Anduin had been contemplating digging around in the cupboards to find whatever the next thing resembling cookies might be, but the hand on the small of his back stills him. Along with Wrathion's soft words of -- flirtation?

He turns to his companion, his cheeks slightly pinked but certainly not looking displeased by the attention, and offers him the twist of a smile in return.

Setting the now empty pot aside, he reaches up to run a hand through Wrathion's hair -- a different texture than his own, for the curls, but still soft. Tucking it back behind his ear with the motion. He has not forgotten the reason why the pair of them are standing here in this kitchen. Why Wrathion has found himself so in need of his comfort, just now. Wrathion very likely has not himself, for that matter. But Anduin figures he must be doing something right, that Wrathion can find it within himself for soft touches, and softer words.

"You are not so bad yourself," he replies, and gently tugs Wrathion in for a kiss.