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“Satoru. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you better stop.”
Actually, Suguru knows pretty well what Satoru’s doing. He’s taking advantage of Suguru’s busyness (and the fact that his only hand is holding a book) to braid his hair. In the longest (and certainly stupidest) possible way.
“It’s called art, you uncultured swine.” Satoru retorts, outraged.
“It’s called bullshit. Stop that.”
“I’m making the Eiffel tower of Rome.” Satoru chirps, totally ignoring him.
What on Earth is he talking about? Nevermind. His knuckles brush Suguru’s nape every now and then, it’s quite nice. Suguru slightly tilts his head, following his lover’s touch while pretending he’s not.
“You know I can still kick your ass, even with a missing arm,” he says, pensively.
Satoru chuckles, his fingers never stopping their deliberate movements in Suguru’s hair.
“Oh? That’s kinky, Suguru-sensei.” Satoru hums in his ear, before protesting loudly. “Hey!! Stop shaking your head, the tower will lean because of you! I mean, the original does lean...”
“Will you ever grow up?” Suguru chides.
Some things really never change.
Satoru bends swiftly and drops a kiss on his shoulder, chuckling. Suguru sighs and tries to focus on his book - to no avail.
This all feels unreal.
They’ve been living together for a few months now (since the Parade and the quite improbable turn of events afterwards) and Suguru can’t help feeling a bit odd at how normal things are between them. It strikes him every other week, usually when they are in the midst of some random activity (non-activity, too). With Satoru, everything is always so right, so easy. Domesticity feels like the most natural thing in the world. As if they haven’t been separated for over ten years. As if Suguru wasn’t a death-sentenced criminal. Somehow, it doesn’t matter anymore and all has been pardoned with a kiss. It’s crazy. Well. That’s also what they are, after all.
Maybe they’ll need to get a moral compass. But not today.
Oblivious to his internal hassles, Satoru continues his contestable artwork, humming an annoyingly catchy (and trendy) tune.
“You were talking about the leaning tower of Pisa?” Suguru asks after a while.
“Hm? Did I stutter?”
Suguru takes a deep breath in. Holds it. And almost succeeds in hiding his smile.
“Satoru. I will kick your ass so hard.”
“My, my.” Satoru’s voice trembles with mirth. “You keep saying this and never actually do it, Suguru. Are you trying to scare me or turn me on?”
Suguru throws his book at his face; it bounces on his infinity. Of course.
“Shut up and stop Pisa tower-ing my hair.”
Satoru pouts childishly and drops from the sofa, meeting him on the wooden floor. He settles his head on Suguru’s lap and stretches like a cat.
“You really have no artistic sense, Suguru.”
“I don’t want to hear this from you, of all people.”
Satoru chuckles and caresses his cheek, fingers lingering on his bangs. He’s probably regretting not having braided them. His smile melts something in Suguru’s heart.
“You’re so pretty, Suguru.” His voice is low and velvety.
“Seducing me won’t work, you know.” Suguru even clicks his tongue to make a point.
“Try saying that without smiling.” Satoru chuckles before dragging him into a slow, impossibly sweet kiss.
When they part, Satoru’s cheeks are flushed and Suguru feels a bit lightheaded (and warm) himself. A growling sound suddenly breaks the mood.
“Ah, all this art made me hungry.” Satoru exclaims. “Let’s get pizza for dinner! I want the one with honey, mentaiko and pineapples!”
Suguru rolls his eyes in a mix of annoyance and affection.
“And they say I’m the one who eats disgusting things. God.”
Satoru starts explaining why his pizza topping choice is the best in the world and Suguru shakes his head without really listening. His hand settles in Satoru’s soft, snow-white hair.
This is his life, now. And it is perfect.