"Jesus," Oliver hissed before he could help himself. It hadn't been like him, he'd known that at the time. But to know he'd been manipulated, however mildly, by this God gave him the creeps a little. But then J-S was looking up at him like he was expecting to be kicked, and Oliver felt like someone was pulling at his heart. God, this was a nightmare. He sighed, then leaned in to press his lips to the shorter mans forehead.
"Okay," he agreed, once he'd pulled back again, releasing his grip on Oliver's hands to cross his arms over his own chest, waiting quietly for the conversation to start.