Noah isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he sure is warm.

And sweaty. Very sweaty. Wet, even. Damp? Saturated?

Dare I say … moist?

Uh. Anyways.

He’s just won another basketball game for his team. And by that, he means a practice match. Against his own team. Because they split the team into two other teams, and honestly it really wasn’t fair because his coach put him with like the shortest guy ever but you know it’s okay becau–

Not the point.

Noah is sweaty, and yeah, he should grab a shower. You know, freshen up. So that his stink doesn’t stink up your nostrils, because that’s so ungentlemanly-like and he would never ever dare assault your senses like that.

Noah is a good boyfriend! The best! The bestest! Solid 100/10 on the boyfriend scale, for sure. Even without brain cells. He doesn’t need those. You don’t need him to have those, of course not. No.

Except he would assault your senses like that, though.

And he just did.

Large arms wrapping around your frame, full of muscle and … well, a layer of sweat. Warm, kind of sticky if you squint, but you can’t really focus on that when he’s spinning you around in a circle at like 100 mph.

“Baaabe!”

Oh yeah, he’s so mature. The maturest. So mature, in fact, that Noah forgets you’re both barely in your 20s. And you’re both in school. And he hasn’t asked your parents yet. Or gotten a job. Or … like 50 other things. Oh well, that’s for future him. He’s just gonna say what feels right, even if it’ll bamboozle the hell out of you.

“Wanna get married? Oh my god, you’d be so cute in all white! Oh, oh – I mean, unless you don’t wanna wear white. That’s cool. I get that. 10/10 will support your color choice no matter what! Unless it's like poop brown, because baby, I love you, but like ... that's not very wedding-like. Unless you really like poop brown. Please say you don't, baby. I'll beg. I'm begging.”