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I would not!

[He doesn't move to be helpful. In fact, he decides to be purposefully unhelpful by just flopping dead weight onto Paul as if he could trap him there with his dead weight. (He could with his AT Field but... well, that's cheating of course.)

A mild protest against this slander.]

You're disgusting. What's wrong with you?

[Paul laughs, a low, quiet roll of sound as Kaworu compresses his diaphram. He fans out his shoulderblades underneath him as counterbalance.]

If only it hadn't happened before.

[He taps Kaworu's upper arm, a quick one-two beat.]

Don't you remember when you first learned what allergies were? You were so sad, with your nose all stuffed up and eyes all swollen...

I was miserable. I thought I was dying from a horrible human disease.

[Just a poor little meow meow! Dying from the Leviathan wasn't as bad as allergies (as he made sure to make everyone aware of this fact).

He taps back the beat on Paul's ribs, repeated twice.]

[The most tragic meow meow of all, a fact Paul shows his acceptance of with a gentle squeeze of comfort and a quiet hum. The humor of the situation had alternated with genuine sympathy on his part at Kaworu's distress, even if he tended to exaggerate it.]

In a way, it is a horrible human disease.

[He nuzzles Kaworu's temple, breathing in the salt breeze.]

Although accusing me of giving it to you wasn't very nice.

You took care of me anyway.

[Paul had always been there with a handkerchief up his sleeve, ready to give a gentle massage to relieve stuffy and swollen sinuses. Paul would be there when he woke up after the medication tablets made him sleepy, looking over him or curled up next to him in an unexpected nap.]

You always do. Take care of us.

Because I love you.

[Because, as he is discovering, sifted memory by memory, he loved them all longer than he ever realized, if love is a handkerchief up the sleeve and a blanket tucked closer around a curled up sleeper.

It's still a little thrill to say it. Part of him had wondered if it would grow less precious with use, but it hasn't lost its shine.]

It makes it easy.

And that's why I trust you. And love you in return.

[He nestles in Paul's arms like the many blankets that the other boy has wrapped around his sleeping shoulders. Like nothing's changed. Because nothing has. Not really.]

It doesn't matter what they say. My trust is what matters.

[ They still should get up. Leave Shinji-kun to bask in the sunlight, which seems to do him no harm, for all that he is a sinister and eldritch undead, and preserve Kaworu's delicate sinuses from the onslaught of the outdoors.

But now it's Paul's turn to linger, burying his face into Kaworu's hair in a gesture easy to mistake for embarrassment, overwhelmed by feelings in a way that demands physical manifestation. He presses Kaworu close enough it almost begins to ache, soaking in his presence, and between this and the ice cream - he's all right.

He's better. ]

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