Ordinarily, Rory hated being carried. He hated it with a passion. There were precious few people Rory trusted with his body; it wasn't that he was particularly heavy (the muscle wasting and general sickliness took care of that), but he was just so frail. He didn't like to think about it, but if anyone ever dropped him, Rory was honestly terrified of how many muscles he would tear, how much more broken it would make him. Except as Eisen picked him up, Rory was not afraid. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around Eisen's frame and he felt the rush of upward movement in his stomach, but Rory neither opened his eyes nor broke the kiss. He was too invested now. The most he did was shift a little in Eisen's arms. It was, without a doubt, the greatest demonstration of trust that Rory had ever shown to Eisen, with the possible exception of ten seconds ago, when he initiated that kiss.
When Eisen laid him on the bed, Rory glanced over at his best friend, his eyes still glazed and dreamy from the contact. His heart was pounding and his mind felt cloudy and far away from everything, but the fact that he was most certainly lying on Eisen's bed brought Rory back to reality, at least a little. "Eisen..." he asked softly, rolling toward him and laying a hand on his cheek. "Are you... sure about this?" It was, perhaps, a stupid question. Had Eisen not just gone out on a limb and told Rory that he loved him? Had he not just picked him up (God, he'd let Eisen carry him--) and taken him to the bedroom? But still. Rory needed to hear him say it. He needed to hear the words. Because if Eisen told him yes... Rory could already feel his skin starting to prickle. Oh God. Control was so hard.