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He could see everything, if he chose to.
If he were honest, he would say he knew from... when, precisely?
He turned then, and smiled, that rare, honest smile; not the exasperated smirk, which usually was the precursor to some biting remark, but that smile that could tell him so much, promise him anything, and he lifted his gaze just a bit more and looked in his eyes, right before he turned away.
He cleared his throat and he turned back, raising an eyebrow, his lips parted for a moment as he made to speak, then closed again.
Slowly he reached out to touch the tightly balled up fist, and watched as it gradually uncurled, then waited. They both stopped, not daring to breathe as their fingers entwined, not quite involuntarily, but as if they had no choice.
"John."
"Hmm?"
"There should be something, a warning, or a guidebook, for this kind of thing, but there isn't, is there?"
He shook his head, and held on tightly as they made their way upstairs.