Re: Tory & Jamie: the Apartment
So it was clear, abundantly clear, and for a moment Tory was still waffling, caught halfway between a place where he knew he liked Jamie enough in a friendly sort of way that it wouldn't feel like just a casual hookup. And yet not feeling that spark of romance, like he'd be waiting by his phone for texts for hours on end, or need daily updates, or anything like that. Jamie was attractive, he was experienced, willing, and seemed to be into Tory. Tory's tequila-addled brains were really trying to come up with cons in this situation and he kept turning up pros instead. He could science while drunk, you see, and he'd reached a pretty easy conclusion.
Well, there was the one con, like he could throw up during or something, but he put that at a less than five percent probability.
So he bent his head and he kissed Jamie, and their noses bumped and no, it wasn't a great kiss by any means, and in fact it reminded him entirely too much of the first time Colin and tried to kiss him, so he pretty viciously shoved that memory away because he knew this was in no way the same, and it had been on his mind far too much, and was even the whole reason he was here and he was drunk right now and like no, he didn't want any part of that. "Why don't you show me what I've been missing?" He slurred softly against Jamie's cheek as a hand came to rest on his chest, fingers curling just enough to lightly grip the fabric. He took a half-step back, face flushed and eyes hooded, arm unbending at the elbow as he still had hold of the shirt.