[And Fugo too, and he hums his agreement. Fugo is more like a brother than a son to him, truth be told-- it's a different dynamic, and with far less snuggling-- but the protective instinct is still there. Polnareff sighs, his fingers tracing idly against Bruno's skin, his eyes locked on his face.]

Me too.

[He shifts upwards, resting his head on Bruno's shoulder, his hand sliding down to creep beneath the other end of his sweater. They're tangled up in one another like this, legs interwoven, and he likes that. He likes the way Bruno curls up against him, seeking out heat (or affection, or both).]

I like it, you know. With them. I like being there for them. Explaining shit and throwing Fugo into the ocean and just letting them be normal kids. And-- [He kisses Bruno's cheek, his fingers tracing just beneath his ribs.] --I like getting to do it with you.