Gansey catches the look that Declan shoots him, and he's typically good at decoding the specifics of a sharp look across a crowded room. It's both a survival skill growing up the Gansey household- when everyone else was fluent in subtlety the only option was to learn to speak the language- and god knows that Adam and Ronan were easier to decode in how they spoke with their bodies than their words half the time.

But Declan is learning a new dialect, not the same sort of anger layered over hurt that was Ronan. And he isn't careless enough to pretend they're the same creature. He can understand thinking he's asking stupid questions, or wanting it to not be a big deal. But Gansey doesn't really know how to be that careless, to not want to do the right thing for Declan.

"Declan.." He was going to say something. Some sort of reassurance, probably. But then the bottle slams down and he half expects anger, that he's pressing too close, and instead he kisses him. And that was not the turn of things Gansey was expecting. There's a gasp, the hitch of his breath, the way that his mouth tilts into the contact, touch-starved, and he thinks he could drown himself in every time he kisses him. He'd wanted a conversation to make sure that things were okay, and this isn't a conversation. But he can't bring himself to stop.

Gansey can't help the way that he presses into it, kissing him back before he even clearly thinks of the desire. Declan's fingers against the back of his neck, lips to lips and he melts. His own fingers sliding against Declan's skin, giving away how much he wants him almost carelessly. His heart skips and he leans into it, threads his other hand into his dark hair.

Something about Declan, about the way that he kisses him, makes him feel almost decadent like this. Greedy.