"You're fucking with me," Oliver says, biting off his words with sharp, incensed teeth. He gets it now, why they call it "pissed", because he's just about to shit himself, he's so mad.

Marcus doesn't smile, doesn't grin, doesn't react, and that's always the worst part about this; he never gives Oliver the courtesy of getting absolutely furious right back.

"Just, just don't," and Oliver is shoving forward with his shoulder, heading somewhere that isn't here, with Marcus all watching and doing things, like he fucking knows.

"Last time I checked," Marcus drawls, "Kissing isn’t fucking." And does it again.