"You should kiss me,"

The room had become awfully quiet after those words left Oz's mouth. Gil could do nothing but gape at him. Completely flabbergasted. The tea he had been pouring overflew and almost burned his hand.

He must have misheard; he must have made it up. Oz's expression hadn't changed the slightest bit. He hadn't even looked up to meet his gaze.

Yet Gilbert hesitated, not sure of what to think of this. What if it wasn't his imagination? What if Oz had really just told Gil to kiss him? And did he really just say it? Or had it been an order. Nevertheless, the young servant didn't' know how to respond.

He awkwardly shuffled closer to his master. Until he stood right before him, his hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt.

And when Oz looked up to meet his gaze, he offered him a small smile. "Ah, I was just reading out loud," he said, then held up the book he was reading.

Gilbert didn't feel disappointed, as a matter of fact. He felt calm and at ease. As if he had been prepared for a moment like this. Oz hands were trembling. He also appeared to have trouble with keeping eye contact.

So when Gil pushed the book down and leaned closer just so that he could smash their lips together, Oz responded in a way no one who was just-joking would respond. Oz gasped softly.

The kiss was quick, nothing too impressive. But Gil did not move, unsure of what to do next. He had just kissed his master. What was he supposed to do now? This had been what Oz wanted after all. He hadn't just misinterpreted something, right?

"I… uhm,…" he managed to utter,

And Oz gently cupped his face, his breath came out a bit different then earlier. His eyes were clouded with something Gilbert had never seen before. His voice barely louder then a whisper when he repeated himself, "Kiss me,"

It's really all Gilbert needed. He placed both hands on Oz's shoulders and kissed him again. Perhaps he should have worried more about his own dry lips against Oz's soft ones. But his master never complained, he kissed back with a certain eagerness Gil had never seen before.

When they finally break apart, they were both out of breath. Gil covered Oz's trembling hands with his own, a small reassuring smile found its way on the raven's smile. And the one Oz offered in return was beautiful and genuine, even though it was so small.

"Again?" Gil asked, for the first time, feeling rather confident in himself to see his master so disoriented. I did this.

Oz nodded, he bit his lip shyly before he said, "Yes," their noses brushed together, and Gil could feel the ghost of Oz's breath against his lips, "Again,"