He's back.

A set of hands trailing through white hair.

He's back.

Teeth nibbling a bottom lip.

He's back.

Legs wrapping around a waist. Lips caressing a neck. A set of hands and a back against a wall. A whisper through a gasp, "I'm Back."

He's back.

Blue meeting silver. A sigh that had been secretly waiting to pounce, "You're back."

He's back.

A smile, somewhat teasing, forms on a face and a head tilts to the side with a slight blush.

He's back.

A couple of words -"We're back." - are heard through a boisterous laugh. A confession of sorts that fills the hall and reaches more than twenty sets of ears.

"FUCK!" – He's back.

A pair of footfalls disappearing into the distance, an addictive laugh and an embarrassed groan disappearing with them.