He'd known he'd had that thought a minute ago about this only needing to be something brief, something between friends, just something to say thanks. But the moment their lips had touched, Lancelot knew that wasn't going to be the case. He hadn't expected it to feel like this. He hadn't known... hadn't even really begun to consider. But oh, he was considering it now.
For the first few seconds, which seemed to stretch for a much longer time, Lancelot just stayed perfectly still, Merlin's lips under his, lost on what to do next. He was at an impass. He knew he wasn't backing away. But what did it mean to let the kiss flourish? If he moved, if he pressed in farther, if he even let himself breathe... what did it mean?
And was it even alright? Lancelot had always tried to be a gentleman, he tried to be polite and considerate. Was this something Merlin wanted? Was he simply too kind of a friend to magic Lancelot into a wall? The questions pounded through his mind and were impossible to ignore. So finally, slowly, he withdrew enough to look Merlin in the eyes, hoping it was clear that his own were seeking permission. If Merlin wanted to duck away, laugh that ridiculous laugh of his and pass all this off as a little bit of holiday fun, this would be his chance.
But he did no such thing. He only stared back. So Lancelot took that as sign enough to tuck all the questions aside to battle later. Now, he brought his hands up to cradle his friend's flushed cheeks, and leaned in again, hoping to actually let himself feel it this time, without the cacophony of uncertainties.