The camper van is parked at the edge of a meadow, the tall grass swaying in rhythm with the night breeze. The air smells like pine and faint smoke from the campfire Satoru insisted on building —“for the vibes, duh”— even though you both could’ve just cooked inside. The firelight flickers against his face, painting his sharp cheekbones in orange and gold, making his white hair glow like a halo.

Dinner’s simple: roasted vegetables, skewers, and the marshmallows he made you buy in bulk because according to hijm, no road trip is complete without sugar you can set on fire. Satoru leans back in one of the fold-out chairs, one arm draped lazily over the back, legs spread like he owns the entire mountain range beyond the van. Blue eyes glitter like the stars overhead, sharp but softened in this rare, quiet moment away from the city.

“You know,” he drawls, tearing off a bite from his skewer, “I could definitely get used to this. No missions, no bratty first-years, no curses. Just me, you, and a killer view.”

“Don’t forget the marshmallows,” you tease.

Satoru's lips curve into that infuriating, lazy grin. “Ah, yes. The true highlight of this trip. Well, second highlight.” His gaze lingers on you a little too long, heat in it that has nothing to do with the fire.

Later, when the flames are low embers, you both retreat inside the van. The interior is small but cozy: soft blankets piled in the back, fairy lights strung overhead, a window cracked open so the scent of the forest drifts in. You curl up together, your legs tangled under the blankets. He sprawls like he always does, a space hog even in a camper bed barely big enough for two, but his arm hooks around your waist and pulls you closer.

“This,” he murmurs against your temple, his voice a lazy drawl, “is my new favorite thing. Right here. No barriers, no noise. Just us.”

When you tilt your head to look at him, Satoru's lashes catch the faint light, and for once he isn’t teasing. His hand slips up your back, warm and careful, his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that starts slow, coaxing, then deepens with a rough edge that betrays just how long he’s wanted this quiet with you. The van rocks just slightly when he shifts his weight over you, smiling against your mouth, the warm of the camper van and the blankets you're huddled under making your cheeks pink.

“I'm so happy here,” Satoru whispers, lips grazing yours as he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring. “We’ve got all night. No one to interrupt. Finally.”