Andrew isn’t tactile? bullshit! at least not when it comes to Neil. I absolutely refuse to believe that the man who, in the very first book, was already brushing his fingers across Neil’s back hard enough to “send goosebumps down his spine,” and who was already fighting the urge to kiss him by the second book, somehow isn’t tactile. I refuse to believe he wouldn’t finish his coffee, toss the mug into the sink, and, on his way past Neil, casually catch him by the waist to steady himself just long enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek. I refuse to believe he wouldn’t stand behind Neil while he washes the dishes, lazily draping an arm around his waist, absentmindedly tapping his fingertips against Neil’s thigh as he waits. or quietly take Neil’s hand into his own, trace the familiar lines of his scars with his thumb, and finish by pressing a few soft kisses against his knuckles. I refuse to believe he wouldn’t pull himself closer before they fall asleep just to bury his face in the crook of Neil’s neck and breathe him in. or idly trace little, meaningless shapes across Neil’s knee with the tip of his finger during yet another team meeting. do I think Andrew is more tactile than Neil? no. not in the way people usually mean it. Neil’s affection is obvious. It’s visible, instinctive, impossible to miss. Andrew’s is quiet. It’s found in barely-there touches, fleeting brushes of his hand, small gestures that almost anyone else would overlook. Neil always notices.
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jacobvanloon
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snowghoul
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