[ Markus affirms the hopes that he hadn't dared to admit he still has for himself, and that's beyond what Fitz expected anyone to give him. He twists his hands in the fabric of Markus' shirt, finding purchase despite the way his right-hand smarts with the movement. Against his instincts, he holds the moment, prolonging their contact. It helps that Markus offers emotional and physical steadiness with his grip, bringing him past the breaking point and into the aftermath. Give him a minute to release the last of his shuddery exhales. ]

Stop being so understanding. [ cry-hiccup-laughed into Markus's shoulder. ] It's — terrible.

[ said in the tone of someone who does not, in fact, think it's terrible, the beginnings of gratitude rising from his side of the bond, tinged with an unabashed fondness for Markus, in this moment. He allows that to linger, too, as his breathing evens out. Finally, Fitz pulls back enough to leave only a hand on Markus' shoulder, the other rubbing at his eyes. ]

God, I'm really. [ he stops himself, bothered by how croaky his voice sounds. ] I'm dragging this out. Hanging off you. Not that you aren't — comfortable. [ When he lifts his head, hand dragged back through his half-curls, he cringes at his own wording. An improvement on his formerly heartbroken, at least. Mm-hmm, there's Fitz, pulling himself together in the messiest way possible, perhaps the only way he knows how. ]

[ in a bit of mumble, though it hardly matters when they're this close. ] Swear I'm not normally this needy, as a [ a brief hesitation, as he wonders if the classification still applies, despite how good Markus has been to him. ] friend.

[ Now that's a lie. He's absolutely needy, across the board, but let him have this shitty joke. ]