Squinting, keeping a close eye on what exactly you were doing with the knitting needles, he breathed out, his tone, unfortunately, making it sound like a question, “I think I’ve got it.”
Handing him the small woollen patch you’d begun for him and slowly used to demonstrate, over a few rows, how it was done.
Watching him with a small smile as he timidly began to knit, you held onto the ball of yarn, gradually unspooling more for him as he needed it. Good thing it wasn’t a sweater and just a simple scarf that he wanted to knit for his first time. He wasn’t doing badly per se, but this was his first time after all.
Taking your eyes off of his fingers, looking down at the ball of yarn in your lap, you asked him quietly, “can I ask you something?”
Completely wrapped up in the fear of dropping a stitch, he just hummed.
“Why didn’t you ask Garcia to teach you how to knit? I mean, everyone knows that she can knit, I didn’t even know you were aware of the fact that I also have that skill…” glancing up at him, “and isn’t she the one going to that convention with you?”
Your question had halted his movements, but his eyes didn’t lift to meet yours. “I, um… a few weeks ago, on the plane, you asked me to get a pen out of your bag and I saw, crammed in there, the thing you were knitting. It had this beautiful criss crossy textured pattern on it…” lowering the needles, he met your gaze, “and you’re right, I could have asked Garcia, she would have probably been happy to teach me, but I didn’t. I asked you.”
Seeing his eyes briefly flicker down towards your lips, he then turned back to his work, slowly, one by one, made the project grow.
