The team was celebrating. You honestly didn't expect someone as... reserved and humble as Logan was to be such a, well, touchy drunk.

He'd sat beside you while he downed a few drinks, and with every glass, he'd started touching you more and more. The others were busy arguing about whether the absurd story Kick was telling was true, they didn't notice.

Logan's fingers traced your knuckles, up to your wrist, then back down. He'd been doing that for about five minutes. Earlier he'd been fidgeting with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your shirt.

He hadn't spoken much, as per usual, but he was definitely getting more confident in trailing his fingers up to your neck and tugging gently on the short hairs on your nape.