Work Text:
“I can't— don't fucking laugh at me,” Roche growls, ears burning, “I can't open it.”
Iorveth snorts, reaching over with casual assurance to take the flask. His fingers graze Roche’s before he catches the neck.
Roche’s heart thumps hard, once. He can't seem to let go while Iorveth’s fingers cover his, warm and strong, sending tingles up his arm.
“Hm,” Iorveth sniffs. He takes the flask with his other hand instead, and hooks his fingers through Roche’s, tangling them together palm to palm. He doesn't even need two hands to open it.
Roche’s body hums. “Yeah, alright, you arrogant fuck.”