You were laying on the couch, with Makarov laying on your chest. You were playing with his fluffy, messy black hair.

"You have a smooth brain. No ridges or lumps, or valleys and bumps. All ideas slide right off! Smooooooooth brain" You said at you play with his hair.

Makarov had half his face buried in your chest, as he looked at you with a tired expression. He was too damn tired to deal with this now.. but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it.