[Slowly, he shifts to face D more on the couch. This means that unfortunately they have to stop leaning on one another, but at the very least he can put his hands on D's shoulders.]

...I thought I was imagining things.

[His own feelings, specifically. Any little sparks of them he'd shoved away, but—] Beyond that, how was I supposed to know you felt the same! Give me something solid next time instead of that bullshit about holding hands!

[Imagine if this had lasted a week? A week of handholding and not understanding?? HE'D DIE. He's so red, he has to look down and away.]

Damn it, D, I just thought you were messing with me!