This was fucked up. And Fisher didn't know what to do about it. It was running so hot and cold right now he couldn't keep a thought in his head. First James was all fire, coaxing him out, making him admit to what he wanted but when he did admit to it, when he let himself reveal what was going on in his head, he got shot down. Shot down hard. Watching the transition play out on James' face, watching him turn and walk back to his bed, lay down like he was hiding... Fisher stared a moment. Then the furrowed his brow and stormed over to the bed, grabbing the man's shoulder and pushing him onto his back so he was looking up at Fisher.
"No," he said heatedly, a little too loudly. "No! You don't get to do that! You don't get to touch me and talk to me like that, whisper sweet nothings and force me to admit something I never wanted to admit to, then turn around and tell me that I'm fucking stupid for saying it! Fuck you!" He shoved against James, pushing him against the mattress, then stepped back a few feet. "You want me to tell you I think about you but you don't want to know what I'm thinking?" he scoffed. "Well too fucking bad. Because I think-" He paused, licking his lips, giving himself another moment to decide if he really wanted to go down this path. He didn't. At all. "I think I could like you. A lot. A fucking lot." Arms crossed, he stared James down, stupidly defiant.