He dares not answer, for he dares not dream what Kyle says is true. He can only stare, wide-eyed and silent, begging whatever forces rule his life that this not be a too-real dream or some incomprehensible joke. That it be real. Hesitantly, not daring more, he reaches out to touch the pale cheek, feather-light. Surprise and comprehension soften the dark eyes; Kyle takes his wrist and pulls him close.

The kiss is gentle, and lingering, and tastes of dreams come true.

Finally released, Kyle whispers in his ear: "So what do you say?"

"Yes. Yes. *Yes*."

"I must be a better kisser then I thought." Wicked laughter sparkles in Kyle's eyes, but at the back of them is an answering joy. Connor smiles, and stops his beloved's mouth with a kiss.

{end}

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