Sitting drunkily on the couch after one or two glasses of wine, (Or three or four), I start shifting my leg closer to John's whose leg is also propped on the coffee table. We giggle nonestop, the victory of the last case still lingering in the good mood.
John shifts his leg to, swallowing loudly as he does. The skin of his feet are warmer compared to mine when they touch. This makes me breath in and out rapidly in laughter.
John scolds me, "Je- *hickup* -sus, Sherlock! Your feet are freezing."
I respond to him with a curt hand on the leg, turning to face him in the awkward angle i'm in, but John's face changed colors by just a light hue.
"You're red." I deduce almost immediately. John's turked off voice doesn't reply, it's his calm one. "No, 'mnot."
I smile again, turning my head front and center. Then my feet go again, sliding in next to John's fidgety ones. It seems my hands had that idea to, slipping from holding my weight on a side, to searching blindly for John.
"Yeah- *hickup* - you are." I concure. My hand finally finds John's leg again, gripping his thigh hard until his hand comes to cover my own, "Fine, i'm blushing."