if you were to ask, gojo satoru was indeed a lover and not a fighter.
of course the man would laugh and tilt his head, if you asked him anyway. but if you observed closed enough, one could tell that despite the cold and cool exterior he showcased for all, he loved fiercely with his entire heart.
(but that also meant he grieved just as strongly-
but alas, that was a story waiting to be told another time.)
but satoru wouldnโt be who he was if he didnโt do things in his special gojo way.
whether it was him leaning over and laying his chin on your shoulder, staring as you tapped at your phone screen, nosily watching whatever you were doing. until you open the notes app on your device and type โstop being nosy.โ he huffs. he was not nosy, thank you very much, he was just curious.
or him showing up at your door when he knows youโre finally back from a long assignment, your favorite take out in his hands as he daintily invites himself inside. (but then again, neither of you fussed about it too much, as he even had his own pair of house slippers.)
you knew gojo showed his love in different ways. as he sprawls himself over your couch, his own container of take out in one hand while the other held a pair of chopsticks. his cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed and you sigh, but are not exasperated. rather, youโre for once glad to see heโs still doing his usual satoru-like things. like popping in and out where he wanted and whenever he wanted. (because who could really do anything but tell the strongest no?)
he pats the cushions beside him invitingly, like you had to be invited to sit in your own home!
but you go and sit anyway. because thatโs just how things went. for once your shoulders brush against each otherโs. and despite the commonality, you canโt help but swallow.
neither of you mention it, the only notice is how you adjust accordingly as satoru leans against your form comfortably.
patting his hand gently, you then take the television remote, and the sounds of some random show fill the room as you both eat your meals.