A/N: part of the Boys and Girls verses
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He liked rowdy boys, all callused and strong hands, skin toasty brown, and sun soaked hair, with eyes like sapphires in the light all flashing and shining, sparking in anxiousness and pranks unplanned.
Rowdy boys with their 'bigger than life' feel and soul searing eyes, with wide grins and fox smiles, lips strong and soft all at once.
Those rowdy boys with 'in your face' attitudes that hide the intelligence and observant eyes, and warm words that make you think twice.
And these rowdy boys with all the strength and none of the anxiety, and always gentle touches and no words, with the understanding and caring, and those accepting smiles.
Yeah the kind of rowdy boys who liked to pretend to know nothing, but seemed to know everything and more, and are like foxes, all cunning and smooth, coming close to observe and wait for soft spots.
The rowdy boys with bold words and hot breath against skin, all strong arms and firm hold strong like a lions heart, the beat steady and familiar.
The rowdy boys that are like the gang boys, but stronger and smarter, all twisting muscle and speed and fighters gait, strong and subtle and peachy keen.
The rowdy boys with great childhood memories of laughing parents and slurring aunts and perverted uncles, tucked into a pocket somewhere to remember later, because new memories are being made at the moment with yells of 'there you are' and 'I'm back'
He likes the rowdy boys with muscled heart, all strong and open to hurt, taking and giving tenfold to show he cares, with empathy and the kindness not to show it.
He likes the rowdy boys with loud shirts and baggy cargo shorts and sunflower hair, blue flame eyes, firm lips, and tawny skin.
He likes the rowdy boys with welcoming eyes and lion hearts, and arms to call 'safe' and 'caring' and when they need it 'home' as well.
He liked the rowdy boys who cursed and laughed and fight and call him best friend, who swaps, swapped lunches because he doesn't like sweets and receives sour in turn, because he know that he like it the best.
He likes the rowdy boys with two best friends, who will turn and kiss your cheek when you're not looking because he knows you like it, because they were the kind he grew in backyards with.
The rowdy boys who sprawled on porches and inhaled the stress of his friends and family and breathed out summer comfort, memories entangled like their fingers.
Those rowdy boys that will hold hands with the same girl, at the same time, who pull vegetation aside, showing back ways to homes not far apart.
The rowdy boys who taught tree climbing and wrestling, who helped little girls, even thought they were older than them because he didn't know how.
The rowdy boys like the one lying next to him on that girl's rug making a mess of chips while trying to play and win at the video game on the screen.
He likes the rowdy boys that were secretly his, even though everyone knew, who wasn't afraid to hold his hand, and opened his arms when a hug and comfort were needed.
The kind with steady heart beats and strong hands, who breathed comforting words into his ear or neck or hair, with burning eyes and names like Naruto, those rowdy boys were his own.
He liked rowdy boys, all callused and strong hands, skin toasty brown, and sun soaked hair, with eyes like sapphires in the light all flashing and shining, sparking in anxiousness and pranks unplanned.
The rowdy boys who were like a warm bed in winter, all soft, pulling away the cold and seeping into your skin and bones, familiar and lulling, with soft warm sun hair, and heavy warm breath puffed against skin, these were the rowdy boys that he liked.