He didn't need the push, not really. He'd already intended to get his clothes off somehow, he just needed to tell Aoba so the man could either assist or move for a moment. With Declan already wanting his clothes off, the little barely there press of Scrap resulted in those always gentle, strong hands reaching up, gripping the sides of his t-shirt, and tearing the thing right in half with a loud rip.

"Wh--?" Declan made some small sound of distress, looking back and forth between both hands at the shredded fabric - he liked that shirt - before shaking it free and standing to sweep his pants off, kicking them away from his ankles. He wanted skin on skin more than he wanted the shirt, and didn't think about the consequences of his nudity for a second. Not until the pants were off, at least, and he coughed, covering himself with a little strained laugh of horror, cupping himself down as his eyes cast to the side.

He was not acting himself, he thought, closing his eyes tightly and breathing out slowly as he stood there, mildly paralyzed and feeling extraordinarily exposed for someone that had, until Aoba came into his life, been something of a naturalist.