"Do you know literally any other songs?” North says, rolling his head back onto the couch cushion. He drops his book on the empty seat next to him, open to preserve his place, and puts his feet on the table.
"What’s wrong with Wonderwall?" York says but he’s grinning and North opens on eye to chuckle at him.
"You’re a dick."
York strums the chord loud enough that they have to be waking up some of their teammates by now, int he wee hours of the morning, and belts out a deliberate and off key, “today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you!”
North’s eyeroll is so enthusiastic that for a moment his pupils disappear behind his half closed lids. “You’re actually going to force me to get up, aren’t you?”
”By now you should’ve somehow realized what you gotta do,” York sings with less yelling but more grinning.
North sighs from deep within his diaphragm and sets his feet firmly on the ground, pushing himself out of the sofa. York continues to strum, taunting, as North drags his bare feet against the cold floor and comes at a stop in front of York’s armchair, leaning down until his hands are resting on either arm and his nose is almost touching York’s, who seems to have gone into autopilot with his plastered grin and slow strums. Quietly and significantly more on key, North adds, “I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.”
York’s hand stops strumming and North gently grabs the neck of the guitar, sliding it out of the way. York’s neck stretches, closing the distance between them, his hands still stuck in the position as if he still had the instrument in his hands.
North stands up, holding the guitar behind him, and York pitches forward still seeking the kiss and almost collides with North’s abs.
"The fuck," York says, looking up at a smug and grinning North.
"Now there's an idea.”