Kavinsky looked over at Jack, sort of soft, cautious. But Jack was smiling, soft and speculative maybe, like it could work. And Kavinsky let himself settle with that. He could have that.

He slipping one of his hands out of his pocket, and reached out to snag Jack's sleeve, pulling him close so he could slip his hand into Jack's pocket with him. It was such a small gesture, but it felt like a lot.