"I know," S murmurs, nuzzling against J's cheek for a moment, his voice quiet in the emptiness of the room around them. Still in the back of his head is the knowledge that he needs to finish closing up so they can go home, but this has all been far too important to rush, and he's not ready to move away yet. It's not likely anyone will come wandering in when they'd typically be closed, anyway. They can sit here a while longer, like they used to so often, like they haven't in so long, taking in this simple, seismic shift. He knew he missed this, but he didn't know how much.

He's said that, too, he's pretty sure, but the fact and the extent of it keep catching him off-guard. It seemed so impossible that he put it out of his head, but now, being here, he realizes how much difference this alone makes. Even if he never does anything more than occasionally play for fun, at least he can do so now with J beside him. That's all he ever really wanted in the first place.

Brushing the ghost of a kiss against the corner of J's mouth, S leans back just enough to look at him, to meet his gaze. He needs J to know how much he means this, how deeply sincere he is. "I know you are." In the time they've been here, J has been nothing but supportive, and while there may have been a time when that wasn't true, it was ages ago now — in J's case, a literal other lifetime. Whatever he does, J will be here, the way it always should have been. "Me too."