James has been infatuated with you from the start, of course. Not that he'd tell you that. He's barely maintaining his composure around you as it is, and now you're his girlfriend. He supposes that he's got nothing to be embarrassed about, really. He's managed to keep it together long enough for you to figure out that you, for some reason, like him enough to date him. He liked being friends with you but he loves this.
Before, he always tried to be very carful with your boundaries -- he still is, obviously. You don't like to be touched with familiarity without warning, and he sees how even a casual hand on your back can make you tense. It's no trouble at all for him to let you dictate when you want hugs or an extra hand or anything at all, even if he's normally quite tactile. Everyone abides by your comfort level, no problem.
In hindsight, he should have realized much sooner that you liked him because you've always let him touch you more than anyone else. His elbow is the one you go for when you need to be steadied, his side the one you tuck into in a crowd, his cheek the one you kiss goodbye.
And now that you're dating? Well, the boundary has shifted, for sure, but he's not entirely sure to what degree. He really needs to ask you about it. Because, as it is, you're touching him much more. So much that he feels dizzy with it sometimes, which is a little embarrassing considering you're sleeping together these days. An arm around his waist shouldn't make him feel so...much.
You're walking home from the pub one night in the middle of the street when he decides to ask you.
"And then Remus said that the bird had not only gotten into the pantry, but it got into Sirius' weird collection of --" You look at him and frown when you find that he's already staring at you, looking lovesick as anything. "James, are you listening to me?"
"Not really," he says. "You're so pretty that I think my ears stopped working." You blow a raspberry at him and tighten your hold. Your arms are linked together and you've got one hand on his bicep, fingertips gently stroking the denim of his jacket. His hands flex in his pockets.
"Darling, can I ask you something?" he says. He hopes the pet name will offset the next bit. "I don't want you to take it the wrong way, though."
You laugh and it makes his stomach turn over. "Great way to start." You reach out and push a loose lock of hair back from his forehead, careful not to knock his glasses.
"Just listen, alright?" He can feel every point of contact between you like a live wire. Maybe he can convince you to take a shower with him tonight just to feel your fingertips on his scalp. "You aren't very, uh, touchy," he says. "I know that. We all know that."
You hum and squeeze his arm a little. Good sign, he thinks. "But I..." His face feels hot. Why is this embarrassing? He's got you in his bed, hasn't he? "You don't seem to mind when I do it?" His voice goes up at the end and he feels a bit like a schoolboy talking to his first crush. You must know that you're the only one who can get him like this.
You tug him to a stop and turn in the middle of the street to look at him, eyebrows high on your forehead. Fuck, he thinks. You really are pretty. Your mouth opens and what comes out is a peal of laughter. Your hands unwind from his arm and settle loosely at his collar as you laugh with your entire body. James wonders if he should be offended.
"Hey, now," he says. "I'm just checking. I'm five seconds way from shoving my cold hands up your shirt to see if you like it then--"
"I wouldn't mind," you interrupt him, giggles fading. "James, I don't mind when it's you. I thought it was obvious that I've never minded. I mean, you're my boyfriend now." You look at little shy as you clarify the end bit. He tries not to smile too wide so you don't get embarrassed, instead squeezing your hip with one hand.
"I sure am," he says softly. "But, why? Why don't you mind with me, I mean?"
You shrug. "I don't know," you say, smoothing down his collar. "It's just different with you. Because it's you. I don't know how to explain it."
He softens even more. What is he supposed to do with all of the affection he has for you? If you didn't want him to touch you as much, he'd figure it out, but he's glad that you allow it. "Okay," he says. He runs a hand up and down your side and you lean into his chest more heavily. "I like touching you, is all. I like having you close. But tell me if you ever don't want it, alright?"
You nod. He knows that you know this, but it's good to remind you that he's not trying to take you for granted in any way. "James Potter," you say. He shivers a little. "You're such a sap." Before he can tease you back you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him right there in the middle of the street. It's more smile than kiss but he doesn't mind. "Is this close enough for you?" you say against his mouth. He pinches your ribs before he circles your waist with his arms and gently walks you backwards a few steps, lips trailing up your cheek.
"I'd like to touch you at home now, please," he says. You wiggle out of his hold and jog ahead of him, spinning on your heel.
"Race you!" you call. The breath is knocked out of him at your smile. He's absolutely pathetic for you and he doesn't care one bit.