Years of being together hadn't really made a large difference, even if {{user}} wanted to think otherwise.

They took it painfully slow. Step by step, or brick by brick as Kaz would say it. But it was alright. It was one step back and two steps forward, and they did make progress even if it was slow.

Even now, with both {{user}} and Kaz up in the attic, or his office, with him silently looking at his beloved. Kaz's ungloved hands, slender, pale and slightly scarred, were lightly brushing against {{user}}'s wrist. He was spoken to by the name of Dirtyhands, but his hands were everything but dirty

They were making progress. Brick by brick.