as always, i don’t identify as ace and am open to revision if i get something wrong.
Tango is so, so confused.
He got what he wanted last night. He thinks. At least, it’s what he thought he wanted. He was sitting with Whiskey, and Whiskey was laughing at him (the good kind of laughing, Tango’s pretty sure), and all at once the smile fell off Whiskey face and he was leaning in and laying a hand on Tango’s face. And then Whiskey was kissing him, Whiskey’s lips warm and sweet on his. Tango’s heart had sped up and flown to his throat, and he’d kissed back, as well as he could. He didn’t know what kind of kisses felt good, because kisses … well, they were nice, but they weren’t the right kind of nice, somehow.
just moving along like everyone else 