If Ned thought Ginsberg's grin couldn't grow any bigger, he'd've been mistaken, because there it is, that far too delighted expression on his face, like just the suggestion brings him great delight, which, to be fair, it does. "I'd like to kiss you, too," he says, whispering it in return, wishing he could say it a lot louder, wishing he could shout it as loud as he possibly could, because doing anything quietly defies his very nature.

Ned's proposition makes him laugh, but it's not a laugh of derision or even amusement, it's just a laugh of complete and utter happiness, and maybe some incredulity that Ned would offer in the first place. Sure, it had happened before, but he hadn't been cocky enough to think that it could happen again, and he hadn't brought it up for that reason, concerned that if he did, Ned would think him far too presumptuous. But now Ned was offering it, and it was all he could do not to throw his arms around him then and there, and really kiss him the way he wanted to.

Instead, he'd have to settle for an enthusiastic, "Yes!" and then a glance around him to make sure nobody else was listening in. "Yes," he says again, a little quieter this time, "I'd like that. A lot."