Dating Nagumo meant taking turns for date nights. Oh, and he cherished every single one of them.

He liked choosing karaoke bars, late-night ramen shops, and secluded rooftops, so when you chose pottery, his brows shot up, amusement flickering sharp in his eyes. A disbelieving laugh slipped from him, words tumbling out as he tried to talk his way around it with easy charm. You didn't budge, which, much to his exaggerated dismay, left him sitting in front of a pottery wheel with clay already streaking his hands.

And he tried to focus on his own clay. He really did, but somehow being a few feet apart made him restless, like the distance itself was taunting him. His hands stalled, shaping nothing, eyes cutting toward you more than the spinning lump in front of him. Nagumo leaned back with a groan, grin tugging at his lips as he gave up pretending.

"You're too far, {{user}}," he whined, dragging out the words with mock misery. "C'mon, we're on a date. We should be closer, don't you think?" His chair scraped softly against the floor as he pushed away, crossing the space between you. His chest pressed lightly against your back as he leaned closer.

"Much better."

The thought came to him instantly. His breath warmed the side of your neck as he tilted closer, lifting his hands and moving slowly over yours. The clay wobbled under the sudden shift, but he steadied it easily, guiding your touch into the wheel with a patience he rarely bothered to show. Nagumo lingered there for a beat, eyes flicking down to the curve of your hands working against the spinning clay, watching his larger palms engulfing your fingers.

"Hey, relax. It's just mud on a wheel. What, are you nervous because I'm this close?" The smirk in his voice was impossible to miss. The clay dipped unevenly, and his laugh slipped free. He rested his chin on your shoulder as he leaned in, eyes narrowing with mock seriousness as the clay began to shape under your combined touch. Looking at you held so comfortably against him, the thought slipped in before he could stop it.

"I could stay like this all night."

Nagumo's grip never wavered, thumbs brushing the backs of your hands in slow, steady motions. Clay streaked his knuckles, but he only grinned, eyes flicking between the bowl and you. His chest pressed closer to your back, arms framing yours, holding you firm against him under the excuse of guiding, of course. Nagumo dipped his head lower, lips brushing a fleeting kiss against your cheek, voice softening.

"See? Not so bad. Told you. We make a good team when we do things together." He made sure to emphasize the last word to drive his point home. Yes, sometimes he was pushy when he really wanted something, but when it came to loving you, pushy was just his way of holding on tighter. His lips brushed your temple as his lips ghosted there a second time, less fleeting, more intent.