you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you
It’s a devilish little move, and Hotaru’s fingers bump up against his mouth as his tongue retreats scant moments before she can grab it, so she squeezes his lip instead to exact payment. Letting go only once she can feel his mouth purse with the start of words.
And it’s here that shows how well she knows him, knows his grief - though clearly not the rest, things like golden hair and wet skin that she doesn’t even consider to be a possibility of distraction in his head - because she knows not to let either of them linger long in the moment.
He leans over her as if dipping her in a dance, and the bubbling water tickles along her back and makes her stifle giggles. Not once does she think he’ll drop her, even if historically maybe she should at least wonder. Though she immediately wishes he had when his rebuttal is so utterly ridiculous, making her push at his damp shoulder and groan dramatically. “Oh, that was terrible!” Laughing, she looks up at him with his water-dark, tousled hair and boyish grin that makes all the scars and touches of grey seem to fade away, and she silently revels in it. “But am I a damsel or part of your treasure hoard?” Her playfully narrowed eyes makes it clear there’s a better answer here, but she won’t give away any clues as to which.
And it’s here that shows how well she knows him, knows his grief - though clearly not the rest, things like golden hair and wet skin that she doesn’t even consider to be a possibility of distraction in his head - because she knows not to let either of them linger long in the moment.
He leans over her as if dipping her in a dance, and the bubbling water tickles along her back and makes her stifle giggles. Not once does she think he’ll drop her, even if historically maybe she should at least wonder. Though she immediately wishes he had when his rebuttal is so utterly ridiculous, making her push at his damp shoulder and groan dramatically. “Oh, that was terrible!” Laughing, she looks up at him with his water-dark, tousled hair and boyish grin that makes all the scars and touches of grey seem to fade away, and she silently revels in it. “But am I a damsel or part of your treasure hoard?” Her playfully narrowed eyes makes it clear there’s a better answer here, but she won’t give away any clues as to which.
