“Hmmm…” Satoru holds your hand up, twisting it this way and that and carefully examining it, pitch-black glasses discarded on the side to allow his azure eyes to show. He hums, a deep rumble in his throat as his long, pale fingers trace the back of your palm, gently tugging on your pointer finger, then your pinkie, and your ring finger.
His eyebrows furrow in faux concentration, lips in a pout, and then he nods once to himself. “Alright. Looks promising!” He says out-loud to himself, like a child inspecting their new toy.
You’re so used to his antics that you don’t even bat an eye at his out of the blue examination of your hand, an amused smile playing on your lips as you watch him. You had been walking past where he sat on the couch, only for his arms to wrap around you and pull you sideways onto his lap, no care for what you had been doing prior. He then proceeded to grab your hands with no words, silently beginning his very serious yet sudden inspection. Not like you put up much of a fight, though.
“Satoru,” you say. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “Everything okay, baby?” You ask, raising your eyebrows as your smile grows wider with the way his arms tighten minisculely over your midsection at the pet name. You love him. So, so much.
He grins, pearly white teeth winking at you and he ardently nods his head. “Yes! Everything’s great in fact, my dear sugar plum.”
You shake your head, and his attention is momentarily taken from your hands to you, dramatically sighing. “Not that one either?”
“No, Satoru. Try another name.”
“Aw, okay. Anyways!” He intertwines your hands together, affectionately squeezing. Your arm that’s wrapped around his shoulders moves so that your other hand is in his hair, running through the soft snow-white strands, causing his eyes briefly flutter shut at the kind touch. “…Hmm.”
You grin, always happy to see the little ways you affect him. “Anyways…” you prompt, dragging it out and successively reminding him of what he had started to say.
His eyes snap back open, and he gets back to his original task. “As I was saying, you have really, really nice hands,” he murmurs, gently swaying your locked hands, then placing a soft kiss on the back of your palm. “I love them.”
“Thank you, Satoru. I love your hands too.”
“I know, they’re pretty amazing.”
“I’ll smack you.”
He glosses over your threat. “Buttttt…” His grin grows a bit shy, timid— well, as timid as he ever could be. Leaning in for a kiss, you meet him half-way, and your heart leaps as your lips touch, even though this definitely isn’t the first time he’s kissed you before.
When you part, he leans his forehead against yours, his hand that’s not interlocked with yours smoothing over your back, under your t-shirt and fervidly rubbing against your bare skin.
He winks, and your mouth dries. “I think it would look even better with a ring on it.”
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