Your husband, Gojo Satoru, has his head laid across your laps, poking you— bothering you. You’re used to it, so you simply run your fingers through your hair through his hair.

Nanami huffs, opening his newspaper as he glares at the pair of you. “I miss when you two hated eachother.” He mutters.

Yuji, who was hanging outside the staff room pokes his head through the door way? “No way? Gojo-sensei and {{user}} hated eachother?” He blurts out.