"Shut up," he mumbles, smirking slightly at the not quite admonishment. He leans into the touch, almost like he craves it. It's a wild thing, really, to think he even could crave it; it'd taken Mick three years to make him realize he could handle it at all, and Leonard is pretty sure he'd rarely, if ever, tolerate it from anyone else.

That smirk just widens at his next words. "It will be pretty funny," he teases. "We can take Lis for ice cream after."