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Description
Pink released a delicate moan as he flopped over onto his back, breathing in the fresh morning scent of pastries and the ocean breeze. Coffee, he thought instantly, slowly rising up on peach elbows to glance around the room. The walls were painted a soothing cherry blossom, his favorite shade of being, and each curtain, rug, blanket or upholstery matched only slightly lighter or darker.

It drove the other colors mad, being in each other's rooms. They coexisted just fine anywhere else, but as soon as they entered the suffocating presence of somebody else's overpowering hues, it was all a headache and a panic attack.

Pulling himself out of bed, Pink slowly shuffled over to his coral dresser and got himself a tank top and some white jeans. Even they had the slightest touch of his hue, everything in his dresser having looked like somebody stuck a red sock in his load of whites. Not that Pink minded - the color befit him.

Not even bothering to clean up before he got his needed kick of caffeine, the shortest color slipped into a fluffy pair of bunny slippers and shuffled down the hall. Their house was white, a decision made by The Artist when he made them a communal home. Supposedly, because it was the combination of all colors, but it still gave Pink a headache. So bland... He hurried down the hall, hoping that seeing his older brothers would fix his aesthetic problem.

"Morning, sugarpie," Came the unmistakable, deep velvet voice from the kitchen, even before Pink had stepped in all the way. Anyone but him...

Red was sitting at the table, a plate of strawberry shortcake before him and a tall glass of coffee at his side. He was reading The Scarlet Letter and smoking a cigarette, somehow managing to focus on all four activities at once. He would.

"Mmf." Pink greeted, breezing past his superior and over to the coffee pot. He took his mug out of the cupboard and filled it, topping it off with several tablespoons of sugar and a pile of cream. The mug was a nice shade of fuchsia, contrasting nicely with everybody else's. "Where're th' others?" He grumbled, taking a swig before setting his coffee down across from Red and retrieving for himself a strawberry poptart.

Red did not answer until Pink had settled in with his coffee and 'pastry', raising an eyebrow at his subordinate's choice of breakfast. "Attending to their duties already. You overslept. Blue's at the beach, Green's climbing a tree, you know. Preparations for summer." Pink bobbed his head, trying to figure out why Red wasn't out of his hair yet. The other may have been his Primary, but it didn't mean that Pink liked the jerk.

"The Artist wants you and I to take care of the queen's roses, first and foremost. I was going to wake you, but you just looked so cute sleeping there with your little ass in the air.." Pink's cheeks turned even hotter than they normally looked, a bright magenta coming across his face so strong it nearly matched his mug.

"Fuck you." He growled at the backhanded comment, refusing to look at Red as he stood abruptly from the table, coffee in hand, and began to leave.

Before he even made it halfway to the balcony doors, Red's hand was grasping his shoulder, grip tightening hard over the smaller color. Pink squeaked and turned around, finding his superior's scarlet eyes ablaze. He had bright cherry hair, down to his jaw, and it was presently looking fluffier than earlier. Yup, Red was pissed.

That was one of the things Pink hated about his Primary. Not only was Red a pervert, but sometimes he got too furious to even laugh at his own jokes. While he would never - could never - hurt Pink, the fact that he was nearly twice his size meant that he could certainly make life far less pleasant for the lesser color.

"Don't walk away from me, Pinky." He growled, eyes still ablaze. His skin was practically glowing hot, and it was all Pink could do to turn his big watermelon eyes towards the other and catch his glower. "It was a joke."

Pink tightened his lips, neither wanting to submit or anger the other any more. The last time they were alone and he'd pissed Red off, he'd gotten a swirlie.

"I'm sorry." He huffed, placing a delicate, peach hand over the other's rough paw. "But what you said was inappropriate. If we're going to work together today, please make some effort to keep your big mouth shut." He continued to stand there, not wanting to make the same mistake he just had, until Red quickly spun him around and gently smacked him in the ass.
"Inappropriate my left nut. Now go get cleaned up, we're already behind." Pink felt his face flush again and quickly scampered away from the abuse of his behind, climbing up the stairs as quickly as his scrawny legs could take him and finally folding into the sanctuary of his own room.

Red was such a jackass.

Angry as he may have been, Pink was incapable of feeling hate. Especially for his Primary. Hell, he even had trouble being all that angry with him. It was just Red's nature, after all, to be a total and complete jackass.

Pink made quick work of putting on deodorant and combing out his shoulder-length, wavy rose hair. He shuffled into his bathroom and splashed cold water against his face, hoping that it would cool down the magenta blush that still splashed across his cheeks. Naturally, they were simply rosy, no brighter than his rubellite lips and watermellon eyes. Red had him really flustered.

Lacing on a pair of bubblegum converse, Pink slowly stood and tried to collect himself, glaring firmly in the mirror. He had spent his entire life with Red, and there was nothing the other could do to embarrass him further today. And that was that.

--

Red couldn't help a smile from curling across his lips as he saw Pink frolicking happily about the rose bushes, turning his own charges shades of satin and blush, ranging all the way to hot pink. He was practically dancing as he bounced from bush to bush, tickling the petals into submission as he frolicked about. He really was too cute.

Red busied himself with his own roses, painting them cherry and scarlet and all the shades in-between. His actions were more precise, more controlled, as he took his time with each flower. He didn't have the same room for fluidity that Pink did, nor the energy of youth to aid him. He stopped when a timid hand reached up to tap him on the shoulder, turning slowly to see the top of Pink's fluffy head peeking out from behind his arm.

"Yes?" He purred, turning fluidly to address the boy.
"I'm done, but.. What do we do with that one?" Pink was pointing to a bush in the center of the garden, sitting between the red and pink sets of bushes. The petals were outlined slightly in the center, highlighting two separate rings.

"Ah," Red crooned, wrapping a long arm around his secondary's shoulders to lead him to the bizarre flowers. "These," he continued, moving to stand beside the smaller male, "Are a special experiment of the queen's royal gardener. Bright pink in the center, cherry around the edges... Think you're up to it?" The boy bobbed his head enthusiastically, examining one of the flowers as though trying to solve a puzzle.

"Here," Red chuckled, taking a blossom stem between two fingers. "I'll start." He ran his finger around the edges, and each outer petal turned a startling cherry red. "Your turn."

Pink swallowed hard and tried to focus, running his thumb along the inner edge. With an inaudible pop, the entire rose became bubblegum colored. He whined and turned to red with a childish pout, shaking his head. "I can't do it." He sniffed.

"Bullshit." Red smirked, coming up behind him and fixing the outer edge of the rose. He then colored the edges of another one, wrapping an arm around Pink and taking his fingers in his hand. "Now, the trick is letting the color ooze out. Just a little. Focus on holding back." Pink held a whimper that was growing in his throat from escaping, face flushing the same color as his first rose as the other pressed against his back. How was he supposed to focus on anything with Red touching him like this?

Even in the early days, Red was never very touchy with his subordinates. He was a bit grabby, but he did not coddle them the same way that the other Primaries did. Even Orange and Purple had taken to sticking close to Yellow and Blue, respectively, for any kind of loving attention. And Pink, having had no one else, was left alone to be tormented and neglected by his perverted and far too hot-headed superior. Of course, there were friendly touches here and there, but the two had never been as close as the others.

He huffed and closed his eyes, trying hard to focus on the flower and not the warmth that spread through his body when Red touched him. He felt his fingers tingling as the other held them, guiding his thumb gently through the inner circle of the flower.

Pink opened his eyes and gasped, beaming down at the gentle beauty of the rose, a perfect combination of their hues. He felt Red bend down and hug him around the waist, the other's prickly chin settling onto his partially exposed shoulder.
"Good," The other crooned in his ear, still not releasing his waist. Pink felt like crying.
"Just two dozen to go." Pink swallowed a lump and practically gasped as Red released him, quickly bounding to the other side of the bush before Red could see him blushing like mad.

"I can do it on my own now." He squeaked out, desperately trying to avoid the luxury of his Primary's touches. Is this how Green, Purple and Orange felt around theirs?

Pink got about three out of four roses right, and let Red handle fixing the rest. Pink was quick to run off after that, making up a bull excuse for a breast cancer parade as he darted away from his superior, trying hard to figure out just what exactly had happened to him back in the garden.

Why did he suddenly want to be close to his Primary? He hated that guy! Or, rather, did as much as his loving mannerisms would allow. It was close enough to hate.

Pink didn't return to the house until dinner time. He spent the rest of the day sulking in the Sakura gardens, toying with their shades and colors before surrendering to a nap among the branches.

--

"There you are, sugarplum," Red cooed as his Secondary walked through the front door. "Just in time for the sunset... We missed you." Pink faltered at the other's affections, stumbling the rest of the way into the kitchen before snatching a handful of strawberries from the fridge. He stuffed them into his mouth before turning towards Red, feeling his ears burn a hot raspberry.

"So, uh.. Sunset time?" He asked weakly, brushing past the Primary and onto the deck. It faced the ocean to the West, and was adorned by seven chairs, each colored accordingly to its owner. Pink settled himself into his own, right between Red and Purple's chairs. Orange and Yellow were presently seated at the deck, Orange tenderly brushing Yellow's long, sunlight hair as they toyed with the colors of the sky. He watched the open displays of affection removedly, blowing a few pink clouds into the picture, until Red arrived.

"We'll take over from here, guys," he said softly, touching Yellow on the shoulder. The other Primary looked up at him, nodding with a wink, and guided Orange away.

"What was that all about?" Pink asked softly, shifting uncomfortably as Red took his seat beside him and painted his own streaks across the base of the horizon.
"I wanted to speak with you..." Red murmured, glancing at the smaller male as Pink painted his hues across the ocean's reflective surface.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning." Pink turned his delicate head, light strands of rose hair flying into the air with the speed with which he looked to Red.
"I wasn't angry with you. I was angry with me, for angering you. I..." He was cut off as Pink scoffed, erasing his own red clouds with a hot fuchsia in an act of defiance.
"Funny way of showing it." He growled, continuing to wipe away his superior's effects on the world, before Red abruptly stopped the swishing of his delicate hands and turned his chin to him.

Watermelon eyes met crimson, and Red could see the hurt dancing in them. Immediately, guilt flashed into his heart for his Secondary, pulsing red through shameful veins.

"Pink. I'm sorry." He growled, feeling his face paint a deep auburn. "I don't know.. how to show affection, like Blue and Yellow do. I was only trying to show you that I-" He was cut off again by a shout of the other, flinching at his Secondary's harsh words.

"Show me what!?" Pink hollered, standing up from his post now to shove an accusing finger in Red's face, "That you don't care? I'm pretty sure you've been making that clear my entire life!" Without a moment's hesitation, the Primary in question grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled him closer, clasping the shaking color to his chest and pressing a firm kiss to his mussed powder hair.

"No." Red growled, images coming to his mind of Pink's childhood. Red had only been a youth himself, close to the beginning of the world. The Artist had gifted them each with two Secondary's, to keep all the colors linked together. Red, however, had gotten an extra. Pink. An extension of himself, of sorts, a paler version of himself. Lighter and softer, compassionate - everything that Red himself was not, yet undeniably connected to him.

He remembered the conflict that raged in his soul those days. He had loved Pink - loved him more than any Secondary, more than his Primary brothers. But he had been scared, too. Scared that the bizarre runt he had been gifted with would tame him. Distract him. Concerned, he had pushed Pink away, shrugged off his attempts at affection. Not wanting to look unfair, he had pushed his other two Secondaries away as well. Eventually, the then-children had gotten the picture.

"Pink," He murmured into the boy's hair, ignoring the rosewater tears that leaked into his firetruck shirt, "I have loved you since the moment you came to us. Loved you more than the others. Loved you so much that I was afraid of you. But you've always been my favorite."

Pink could feel the connection to his Primary as he was held. He melted into the older male's touch, becoming a puddle of hues in his arms. They all had this connection to theirs, all the Secondaries, but Pink had not been close enough to Red to feel this since he was a small child. For that, he was furious with the other. Yet an unspoken connection forced him to love Red - forced him to forgive him immediately. The Artist would not allow him to remain angry.

"I love you too.." He muttered softly into Red's chest, delicate fingers wrapping around the collar of his polo shirt. Red smiled and rubbed light circles into the paler hue's shoulder blades, nuzzling the boy's soft rose hair.
"I know you do. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." He pressed a tender kiss to Pink's flushing forehead, causing the other to look up in alarm.

The kiss sent a shock right through Pink's body, causing him to melt all the more, clutching onto Red tighter as he stared up at him. He'd all but forgotten how good the other's touches felt to his pre-programmed nervous system. This had to be what perfect harmony felt like.

Red smirked and grabbed the youth's chin, staring into watery melon eyes. Pink simply held his gaze, rubellite lips trembling with want. He would not - could not - make the first move though. He didn't even know if that was appropriate...

Red could feel the want pouring off of the slighter color through an invisible connection. Pulling the boy's chin closer, he pressed his cherry lips into Pink's pastels, feeling his heart tether itself tightly to the other's. No way he was ever neglecting his little one again.

"Come on, my little blossom," He cooed when the kiss finally ended, standing up and taking a dazed Pink with him. "Let's get you into bed, hmm?" Pink bobbed his head, then looked up at Red, beaming a little.
"My bed, or yours?"

Description
Pink released a delicate moan as he flopped over onto his back, breathing in the fresh morning scent of pastries and the ocean breeze. Coffee, he thought instantly, slowly rising up on peach elbows to glance around the room. The walls were painted a soothing cherry blossom, his favorite shade of being, and each curtain, rug, blanket or upholstery matched only slightly lighter or darker.

It drove the other colors mad, being in each other's rooms. They coexisted just fine anywhere else, but as soon as they entered the suffocating presence of somebody else's overpowering hues, it was all a headache and a panic attack.

Pulling himself out of bed, Pink slowly shuffled over to his coral dresser and got himself a tank top and some white jeans. Even they had the slightest touch of his hue, everything in his dresser having looked like somebody stuck a red sock in his load of whites. Not that Pink minded - the color befit him.

Not even bothering to clean up before he got his needed kick of caffeine, the shortest color slipped into a fluffy pair of bunny slippers and shuffled down the hall. Their house was white, a decision made by The Artist when he made them a communal home. Supposedly, because it was the combination of all colors, but it still gave Pink a headache. So bland... He hurried down the hall, hoping that seeing his older brothers would fix his aesthetic problem.

"Morning, sugarpie," Came the unmistakable, deep velvet voice from the kitchen, even before Pink had stepped in all the way. Anyone but him...

Red was sitting at the table, a plate of strawberry shortcake before him and a tall glass of coffee at his side. He was reading The Scarlet Letter and smoking a cigarette, somehow managing to focus on all four activities at once. He would.

"Mmf." Pink greeted, breezing past his superior and over to the coffee pot. He took his mug out of the cupboard and filled it, topping it off with several tablespoons of sugar and a pile of cream. The mug was a nice shade of fuchsia, contrasting nicely with everybody else's. "Where're th' others?" He grumbled, taking a swig before setting his coffee down across from Red and retrieving for himself a strawberry poptart.

Red did not answer until Pink had settled in with his coffee and 'pastry', raising an eyebrow at his subordinate's choice of breakfast. "Attending to their duties already. You overslept. Blue's at the beach, Green's climbing a tree, you know. Preparations for summer." Pink bobbed his head, trying to figure out why Red wasn't out of his hair yet. The other may have been his Primary, but it didn't mean that Pink liked the jerk.

"The Artist wants you and I to take care of the queen's roses, first and foremost. I was going to wake you, but you just looked so cute sleeping there with your little ass in the air.." Pink's cheeks turned even hotter than they normally looked, a bright magenta coming across his face so strong it nearly matched his mug.

"Fuck you." He growled at the backhanded comment, refusing to look at Red as he stood abruptly from the table, coffee in hand, and began to leave.

Before he even made it halfway to the balcony doors, Red's hand was grasping his shoulder, grip tightening hard over the smaller color. Pink squeaked and turned around, finding his superior's scarlet eyes ablaze. He had bright cherry hair, down to his jaw, and it was presently looking fluffier than earlier. Yup, Red was pissed.

That was one of the things Pink hated about his Primary. Not only was Red a pervert, but sometimes he got too furious to even laugh at his own jokes. While he would never - could never - hurt Pink, the fact that he was nearly twice his size meant that he could certainly make life far less pleasant for the lesser color.

"Don't walk away from me, Pinky." He growled, eyes still ablaze. His skin was practically glowing hot, and it was all Pink could do to turn his big watermelon eyes towards the other and catch his glower. "It was a joke."

Pink tightened his lips, neither wanting to submit or anger the other any more. The last time they were alone and he'd pissed Red off, he'd gotten a swirlie.

"I'm sorry." He huffed, placing a delicate, peach hand over the other's rough paw. "But what you said was inappropriate. If we're going to work together today, please make some effort to keep your big mouth shut." He continued to stand there, not wanting to make the same mistake he just had, until Red quickly spun him around and gently smacked him in the ass.
"Inappropriate my left nut. Now go get cleaned up, we're already behind." Pink felt his face flush again and quickly scampered away from the abuse of his behind, climbing up the stairs as quickly as his scrawny legs could take him and finally folding into the sanctuary of his own room.

Red was such a jackass.

Angry as he may have been, Pink was incapable of feeling hate. Especially for his Primary. Hell, he even had trouble being all that angry with him. It was just Red's nature, after all, to be a total and complete jackass.

Pink made quick work of putting on deodorant and combing out his shoulder-length, wavy rose hair. He shuffled into his bathroom and splashed cold water against his face, hoping that it would cool down the magenta blush that still splashed across his cheeks. Naturally, they were simply rosy, no brighter than his rubellite lips and watermellon eyes. Red had him really flustered.

Lacing on a pair of bubblegum converse, Pink slowly stood and tried to collect himself, glaring firmly in the mirror. He had spent his entire life with Red, and there was nothing the other could do to embarrass him further today. And that was that.

--

Red couldn't help a smile from curling across his lips as he saw Pink frolicking happily about the rose bushes, turning his own charges shades of satin and blush, ranging all the way to hot pink. He was practically dancing as he bounced from bush to bush, tickling the petals into submission as he frolicked about. He really was too cute.

Red busied himself with his own roses, painting them cherry and scarlet and all the shades in-between. His actions were more precise, more controlled, as he took his time with each flower. He didn't have the same room for fluidity that Pink did, nor the energy of youth to aid him. He stopped when a timid hand reached up to tap him on the shoulder, turning slowly to see the top of Pink's fluffy head peeking out from behind his arm.

"Yes?" He purred, turning fluidly to address the boy.
"I'm done, but.. What do we do with that one?" Pink was pointing to a bush in the center of the garden, sitting between the red and pink sets of bushes. The petals were outlined slightly in the center, highlighting two separate rings.

"Ah," Red crooned, wrapping a long arm around his secondary's shoulders to lead him to the bizarre flowers. "These," he continued, moving to stand beside the smaller male, "Are a special experiment of the queen's royal gardener. Bright pink in the center, cherry around the edges... Think you're up to it?" The boy bobbed his head enthusiastically, examining one of the flowers as though trying to solve a puzzle.

"Here," Red chuckled, taking a blossom stem between two fingers. "I'll start." He ran his finger around the edges, and each outer petal turned a startling cherry red. "Your turn."

Pink swallowed hard and tried to focus, running his thumb along the inner edge. With an inaudible pop, the entire rose became bubblegum colored. He whined and turned to red with a childish pout, shaking his head. "I can't do it." He sniffed.

"Bullshit." Red smirked, coming up behind him and fixing the outer edge of the rose. He then colored the edges of another one, wrapping an arm around Pink and taking his fingers in his hand. "Now, the trick is letting the color ooze out. Just a little. Focus on holding back." Pink held a whimper that was growing in his throat from escaping, face flushing the same color as his first rose as the other pressed against his back. How was he supposed to focus on anything with Red touching him like this?

Even in the early days, Red was never very touchy with his subordinates. He was a bit grabby, but he did not coddle them the same way that the other Primaries did. Even Orange and Purple had taken to sticking close to Yellow and Blue, respectively, for any kind of loving attention. And Pink, having had no one else, was left alone to be tormented and neglected by his perverted and far too hot-headed superior. Of course, there were friendly touches here and there, but the two had never been as close as the others.

He huffed and closed his eyes, trying hard to focus on the flower and not the warmth that spread through his body when Red touched him. He felt his fingers tingling as the other held them, guiding his thumb gently through the inner circle of the flower.

Pink opened his eyes and gasped, beaming down at the gentle beauty of the rose, a perfect combination of their hues. He felt Red bend down and hug him around the waist, the other's prickly chin settling onto his partially exposed shoulder.
"Good," The other crooned in his ear, still not releasing his waist. Pink felt like crying.
"Just two dozen to go." Pink swallowed a lump and practically gasped as Red released him, quickly bounding to the other side of the bush before Red could see him blushing like mad.

"I can do it on my own now." He squeaked out, desperately trying to avoid the luxury of his Primary's touches. Is this how Green, Purple and Orange felt around theirs?

Pink got about three out of four roses right, and let Red handle fixing the rest. Pink was quick to run off after that, making up a bull excuse for a breast cancer parade as he darted away from his superior, trying hard to figure out just what exactly had happened to him back in the garden.

Why did he suddenly want to be close to his Primary? He hated that guy! Or, rather, did as much as his loving mannerisms would allow. It was close enough to hate.

Pink didn't return to the house until dinner time. He spent the rest of the day sulking in the Sakura gardens, toying with their shades and colors before surrendering to a nap among the branches.

--

"There you are, sugarplum," Red cooed as his Secondary walked through the front door. "Just in time for the sunset... We missed you." Pink faltered at the other's affections, stumbling the rest of the way into the kitchen before snatching a handful of strawberries from the fridge. He stuffed them into his mouth before turning towards Red, feeling his ears burn a hot raspberry.

"So, uh.. Sunset time?" He asked weakly, brushing past the Primary and onto the deck. It faced the ocean to the West, and was adorned by seven chairs, each colored accordingly to its owner. Pink settled himself into his own, right between Red and Purple's chairs. Orange and Yellow were presently seated at the deck, Orange tenderly brushing Yellow's long, sunlight hair as they toyed with the colors of the sky. He watched the open displays of affection removedly, blowing a few pink clouds into the picture, until Red arrived.

"We'll take over from here, guys," he said softly, touching Yellow on the shoulder. The other Primary looked up at him, nodding with a wink, and guided Orange away.

"What was that all about?" Pink asked softly, shifting uncomfortably as Red took his seat beside him and painted his own streaks across the base of the horizon.
"I wanted to speak with you..." Red murmured, glancing at the smaller male as Pink painted his hues across the ocean's reflective surface.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning." Pink turned his delicate head, light strands of rose hair flying into the air with the speed with which he looked to Red.
"I wasn't angry with you. I was angry with me, for angering you. I..." He was cut off as Pink scoffed, erasing his own red clouds with a hot fuchsia in an act of defiance.
"Funny way of showing it." He growled, continuing to wipe away his superior's effects on the world, before Red abruptly stopped the swishing of his delicate hands and turned his chin to him.

Watermelon eyes met crimson, and Red could see the hurt dancing in them. Immediately, guilt flashed into his heart for his Secondary, pulsing red through shameful veins.

"Pink. I'm sorry." He growled, feeling his face paint a deep auburn. "I don't know.. how to show affection, like Blue and Yellow do. I was only trying to show you that I-" He was cut off again by a shout of the other, flinching at his Secondary's harsh words.

"Show me what!?" Pink hollered, standing up from his post now to shove an accusing finger in Red's face, "That you don't care? I'm pretty sure you've been making that clear my entire life!" Without a moment's hesitation, the Primary in question grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled him closer, clasping the shaking color to his chest and pressing a firm kiss to his mussed powder hair.

"No." Red growled, images coming to his mind of Pink's childhood. Red had only been a youth himself, close to the beginning of the world. The Artist had gifted them each with two Secondary's, to keep all the colors linked together. Red, however, had gotten an extra. Pink. An extension of himself, of sorts, a paler version of himself. Lighter and softer, compassionate - everything that Red himself was not, yet undeniably connected to him.

He remembered the conflict that raged in his soul those days. He had loved Pink - loved him more than any Secondary, more than his Primary brothers. But he had been scared, too. Scared that the bizarre runt he had been gifted with would tame him. Distract him. Concerned, he had pushed Pink away, shrugged off his attempts at affection. Not wanting to look unfair, he had pushed his other two Secondaries away as well. Eventually, the then-children had gotten the picture.

"Pink," He murmured into the boy's hair, ignoring the rosewater tears that leaked into his firetruck shirt, "I have loved you since the moment you came to us. Loved you more than the others. Loved you so much that I was afraid of you. But you've always been my favorite."

Pink could feel the connection to his Primary as he was held. He melted into the older male's touch, becoming a puddle of hues in his arms. They all had this connection to theirs, all the Secondaries, but Pink had not been close enough to Red to feel this since he was a small child. For that, he was furious with the other. Yet an unspoken connection forced him to love Red - forced him to forgive him immediately. The Artist would not allow him to remain angry.

"I love you too.." He muttered softly into Red's chest, delicate fingers wrapping around the collar of his polo shirt. Red smiled and rubbed light circles into the paler hue's shoulder blades, nuzzling the boy's soft rose hair.
"I know you do. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." He pressed a tender kiss to Pink's flushing forehead, causing the other to look up in alarm.

The kiss sent a shock right through Pink's body, causing him to melt all the more, clutching onto Red tighter as he stared up at him. He'd all but forgotten how good the other's touches felt to his pre-programmed nervous system. This had to be what perfect harmony felt like.

Red smirked and grabbed the youth's chin, staring into watery melon eyes. Pink simply held his gaze, rubellite lips trembling with want. He would not - could not - make the first move though. He didn't even know if that was appropriate...

Red could feel the want pouring off of the slighter color through an invisible connection. Pulling the boy's chin closer, he pressed his cherry lips into Pink's pastels, feeling his heart tether itself tightly to the other's. No way he was ever neglecting his little one again.

"Come on, my little blossom," He cooed when the kiss finally ended, standing up and taking a dazed Pink with him. "Let's get you into bed, hmm?" Pink bobbed his head, then looked up at Red, beaming a little.
"My bed, or yours?"