#headpats

“Good job, March,” you teased fondly. “You really nailed those shots.”

She beamed under the attention, leaning in for more.

What you didn’t notice — or rather, didn’t expect — was the faint shadow that fell across the room. Dan Heng was leaning against the doorway, book in hand, though his eyes were nowhere near the pages. His gaze lingered on your hand resting on March’s head far longer than it should have.

When March scampered off to fetch another stack of photos, Dan Heng approached silently, stopping in front of you.

“…You’re generous with your affection today,” he said evenly, though there was a subtle tightness in his voice.

You blinked. “Uh… I guess? March was just—”

Without warning, he sat down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest frown pulling at his lips.

“If you’re going to give out headpats,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that your breath caught, “I’d prefer to be the one receiving them.”

Your face warmed instantly. “Dan Heng—?”

He didn’t wait for you to recover. One of his hands lightly caught yours, guiding it up to rest on his head. The movement was subtle but purposeful, his eyes closing as if committing the moment to memory.

“You… mean a lot to me,” he said quietly. “More than a friend should. I don’t want to share this with anyone else.”

The steady beat of your heart drowned out the train’s rhythm. You couldn’t tell if you were more flustered by his closeness or the blunt confession — maybe both.

When you hesitated, he opened his eyes, expression still calm but tinged with something vulnerable. “…Please. Just me.”

You laughed as you reached up to ruffle Himeko’s hair. “There. Now you’re even more perfect.”

Himeko chuckled, raising a brow at you. “Careful, Caelus might get jealous.”

“Jea—?” you started, but before you could finish, the man in question stepped into the lounge with a strangely serious look.

His usual calm presence felt… different. He crossed the space in a few strides, stopping right beside you, his silver hair catching the warm light. Without a word, he bent slightly so his head was within reach, his eyes meeting yours.

“…I didn’t get one,” he said softly.

“One what?” you asked, heat already creeping up your neck.

“A headpat.” The simplicity of the answer nearly knocked the breath out of you. “If you’re giving them out, I want mine first. Always.”

Before you could reply, his gloved hand found yours, gently but firmly tugging it toward him. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the leather as he pressed your palm to his head, closing his eyes like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You laughed nervously. “You’re really—”

“—Serious,” he finished, opening his eyes. The sincerity there was almost overwhelming. “I love you. I don’t want to just watch from the side while you give your affection to everyone else. Let me have it. All of it.”

The firmness in his tone was softened by the faint blush dusting his cheeks. You didn’t think Caelus could be clingy until now, but the way he stayed close — refusing to let go of your hand — told you he wasn’t about to back down.

It started innocently. You and Topaz were talking in the corner, and she’d made a joke so perfectly ridiculous that you reached out and patted her head with a grin. “You’re unbelievable.”

She laughed, clearly pleased, but the sharp click of shoes approaching cut through your amusement.

“Well, well,” Aventurine drawled, stepping into view with that ever-present smile. “Handouts today, are we?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Handouts?”

“Affection,” he said smoothly, his eyes glinting. “And here I thought I was your favorite investment.”

Before you could fire back, he was already at your side, an arm sliding around your shoulders like it belonged there. The faint scent of his cologne was dizzying, and the closeness made your pulse stutter.

“If you’re giving out headpats,” he continued, tilting his head so the light caught in his glasses, “I’d like my returns immediately. With interest.”

You laughed, flustered. “Aventurine, it’s not—”

“—It is,” he interrupted, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Because I love you, sweetheart. And I’m not in the mood to share. Not with her, not with anyone.”

His words were teasing on the surface, but the steel in his gaze made your breath hitch. He caught your wrist and guided your hand to his hair with almost theatrical flourish, leaning in just enough that his hat nearly brushed your forehead.

“There,” he murmured. “Now, we’re even… though I’ll be expecting regular deposits.”

His smile widened when you tried to look away, clearly enjoying every second of your fluster.