💧
(I use this loosely obvi for the romantic part, basically I’m just dying to see something from your qpr fic)
something sweet it is!!! here's a clip from the two aces qpr fic, loneliness into loneliness:
Dani settles onto the couch beside him, apparently just fine with spending their morning that way. His injured shoulder is closest to Jamie, and so is the folded up sleeve of his shirt. Something about it keeps pulling Jamie’s attention away from the screen, eyes drawn back over and over to the twisted flip of fabric. Eventually, he gives up and reaches over, only to freeze up as soon as his fingertips brush Dani’s sleeve. “Sorry,” he says, blurts out on instinct. “You’re hurt, I shouldn’t have… Sorry. Just, your sleeve is all— Do you mind?” The look on Dani’s face is nothing short of baffled, and Jamie’s cheeks grow hot. It just— it wasn’t a good idea to just go grabbing at an injured part of someone’s body without a warning, right, and he hadn’t wanted to freak Dani out, only realizing what he was doing as he was doing it. Except that Dani hadn’t actually been freaked out at all, at least not yet, and so it just seems like Jamie is freaking out for no reason. “Sure,” Dani says, and after a lag where it was like his brain forgot what he’d just asked, Jamie realizes that was the answer to his question. Now completely ignoring the documentary, which is in its ending voiceover monologue, Jamie shifts on the couch. He’s got his leg up on the coffee table, propped on a pillow, so it’s a little difficult to maneuver too far, but he manages to get turned just enough that he’s facing Dani at an angle. Jamie flexes his hands quickly before he reaches for the twisted fabric again, just to make sure they’re not shaking or something, even though it would be beyond stupid if they were. He reaches out and takes hold of the shirt sleeve, working his fingers carefully, gently under the strap of the sling and tugging at the fabric until it comes free. Even after the twist has come loose, Jamie’s hands linger. One of them grips the sling, keeping it in place, and the other lays against Dani’s upper arm, not quite over the place of the injury but close enough that Jamie thinks he can feel the heat of inflammation through the thin material. His fingers press lightly down, his palm flat and his thumb smoothing slowly over and over the place where the fold had been. It continues on like that, the gentle back and forth, until Jamie abruptly realizes that he’s been doing this for far too long and he’s absolutely crossed the line from helpful and into weird, and he stops. Pulling away is harder than it should be, but he manages it. The strap settles back into place, Dani’s shirt beneath it neat and flat, and Jamie folds his hands together into his own lap. “Thank you.” Dani’s voice is soft and a little amused. Jamie doesn’t look at him, just shrugs. His hands fidget against each other, fingers twisting and untwisting at the hem of his own shirt. “Yeah,” he says, trying to match Dani’s easy tone. “Weren’t nothing.”