choso was absolutely terrible at pretending he wasn't obsessed with you.
like genuinely awful at it.
“you gonna keep starin' at me?” you asked, trying not to laugh as you sat on the couch.
he blinked slowly from where he was practically folded against your side, arms around your waist like he’d somehow die if he let go.
“…'m not staring.”
“choso.”
“…looking respectfully.”
you snorted.
he immediately buried his face into your shoulder with a quiet groan, ears faintly pink. “don't laugh at me…”
“i'm not!” you said, already laughing.
“you are,” he mumbled. “'s mean…”
“baby.”
that one word had him completely melting.
actually melting.
he tilted his head up just enough to look at you, expression all soft and stupidly in love.
“…can i hold your hand.”
“you're literally holding me.”
“…oh.”
a pause.
“…can i hold it anyway?”