we've been cured on the couch, now you're sick with your grouch

Felix could never not adore Oscar. He knows himself to be the very definition of cute, but Oscar is...well, Oscar. He's very handsome. Never in his life did Felix think he'd find himself taken by the open-shirt poorly-shaven unruly-hair look, but maybe it's the salt-and-pepper touch.

Maybe it's the couples therapy.

Maybe it's the fact that, in the middle of kissing Oscar silly, snaking his hands into secret places, and falling over onto the bed, he needs something, anything, to look at besides the mess, because if he starts honking, Oscar stops smiling; there are few more unpleasant things.