Harry can enjoy it without admitting he wants it, that something within him just wants to curl up with the people he cares about and feel safe and cozy--out loud. "That's real smart, Corb. I gotta remember that."

He glances down at where their hands are probably under the blanket, curling his fingers around Corbin's. Ugh. Handholding.

He likes it. Gross. "Yeah, I'm pretty brave," he braggs, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "Yeh can call me though. If yeh feel like that again." Or whatever.