[ yelena is, as she often does in his presence, testing the waters. she doesn't want to push him, except his body language speaks volumes. it means something to her that he hasn't pulled away, not yet anyway, but she can gauge that he doesn't find the idea of her touching his left hand repulsive, to say the least.

her gaze flits over to his face, and she wishes she could run the pad of her thumb across his cheek, or pinch it just because that would be funny and it would probably reassure him all the same, but she settles with slotting her digits in the spaces between his own metal ones. ]

I really don't care, James. It is still part of you.

[ and what she really means is "i like all of you," and she could say it, but she thinks they're enough in tune that he'll be able to read between the lines.

what they have is a little puzzling (especially to an outsider, had an outsider been here in the room with them) and it's weirdly unconventional, but it still makes her insides twist and turn and flutter until it bubbles all the way up to her chest.

it's hilarious to her that they haven't even kissed but they have cuddled (unintentionally, but it still counts), she's in his bed and is still wearing his clothes. they've skipped many steps, and keep having to take one or two back but she doesn't mind. how could she, when he's almost holding her and he's so close she can feel the rise and fall of his chest. and when she finally lets her fingers clasp over his knuckles to actually hold his hand, she thinks it's pretty damn close to kissing. ]

Besides, how are we going to dance if you don't use both hands? [ she shoots him a toothy grin, and then, with her whole chest: ] Dumbass.