"Get your ass over here, trash." The rain guardian's eye twitched at the last word, but he knew it was a term of endearment. Xanxus was just ... rough. He had been rough since Squalo had met the man all those years ago. He gave the older man a wary look and strolled across the room like he wasn't obeying orders, but he knew he was, and he didn't mind. "What the hell do you want now?" He barked at the scarred man, who simply shifted in his seat and gestured to his lap. Ahh ... so that's it. Squalo played up the part of the indignant wife, and Xanxus waited like the patient husband, until, finally, Squalo took his seat in the man's lap. He was avoiding looking at Xanxus in the face - it always felt weird when they were close like this. Xanxus noticed, however, and with that alien delicacy, turned Squalo's face to meet his. The pink tint covering Squalo's cheeks turned a deep red when he met the other man's fiery gaze. He almost always looked angry, to some degree, but when he was alone with his rain guardian, those fiery eyes burned red with something else. Something that sent chills up Squalo's spine and set butterflies free in his stomach. They held that gaze for what felt like an eternity, and Squalo was the first to start leaning in to close the gap. Xanxus met him halfway, of course, and their lips met, closed and puckered, where they lingered for only a moment. It was things like that that made the butterflies in Squalo's stomach crazy, and he briefly wondered if Xanxus was feeling the same lovesick nausea he was feeling. As if he knew what had just crossed Squalo's mind, a rough and calloused hand cupped the younger man's cheek, which he unconsciously leaned into.

"Hey ... I love you, trash."