"It dulls my thought processes, I would rather the discomfort than being unable to think." Loren found the greatest comfort in his intelligence, was rather arrogant about it, and prized it as what made him worthwhile as a person. He was not as strong nor handsome as his brother, not so honest or kind as Steve Rogers, not so effervescent as his boyfriend, and not so brave as a wounded soldier. But he was intelligent, more than mostly anyone he knew, and he could not bear to have that dulled.

He reached out to take hold of Anthony's hand once more, long pale fingers winding around tanned ones with callouses from working on engines all day.

"I meant what I said, Anthony, and I do not like repeating myself. If you are not to be running for the hills, then our names should be joined."

Apparently he had been serious about angling for a proposal, and was not subtle or romantic about it.