He is not a romantic man. But he is an affectionate one.
There is no denying it. He doesn't even try. And honestly, why should he? He is. He knows it.
And she loves it.
She loves when he starts to wrap his arm around her waist when they are in a crowded street and how he won't he let go even when they move past the crowds of people. She loves when he reaches over her small table to curl a strand of her hair around his finger in concentration. She loves when he drapes over her after a long day of killing hollows while she heals him. She loves when he pulls her close so he can nuzzle into her neck. She loves when he kisses her cheek after teasing her about her clumsiness or her eccentricities. She loves when he moves his lips from her cheek to her nose and then finally to her lips.
Well. He thinks she loves it. She never complains. She always leans into his touches, always expectant, always wanting more.
And he's always all too willing to give into her wants.