Pinchers
Soap who loves to hold your hand, he does it so often that you’ve started to call him “crab,” affectionately, of course. And he wears that nickname with pride, he will happily be your grabby handed little sea creature.
It’ll be in passing, celebrating with you on how a mission went, and his fingers will just… Trail to yours. Intertwining without much resistance. He always feels so relaxed whenever he holds your hand, it’s grounding in a way, the tension leaving his body.
It’s only when you notice him drinking twice his body weight, and bawling over something incoherent, drunken babbling so strong his words slur into nothingness, do you truly find out how comforting your hand is to him.
You gently grab his, fingers intertwining in his own with a gentle squeeze, and he squeezes back, to no ones surprise, and you find him instantly calming down over the gesture, his once tear stained cheeks are being willingly wiped away by your other hand, melting into your touch, and his eyes follow suit. Drying like the tears never existed in the first place.
He lets you drag him to bed, practically tossing him onto the mattress where he mindlessly collapses, passing out moments after with your hand still intwined with his, and you don’t have the heart to let go.