"Chainsaw doesn't need to know," Noah whispers, a small, almost-there smile on his face.

His smile widens when Ronan touches him, or at least his shirt. He scoots closer with the tug, wrapping his arm around Ronan's waist and tucking his head under Ronan's chin, face pressed snugly against his chest. Noah hums, a soft, contented sound. If he was Prunam he'd be purring. "I'll try," he says, closing his eyes like he's about to take a nice nap.