He had no expectation of having the commemorative gift rejected; that does nothing to still the light, fluttering sensation in his stomach when he is kissed. He leans into that soft touch and brings up both hands, now free, to curl gently around Devin's wrists.

"If you're a sentimental fool, what does that make me?"

"Ah, are you fishing for compliments?" he teases, drawing back just enough to regard Devin's eyes. He smiles, the expression warm in his eyes, the corners of his lips. He pauses, and then releases his partner's wrists to instead frame his face.

"You are," he goes on gently, tracing a thumb over Devin's cheekbone, "so dear to me. Which you must know, of course, but on an occasion such as this, how could I not show it?"