I saw those tags on your shouto post pluvi,,,,I AM KINDLY ASKING U TO ELABORATE. please (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
it’s a certain kind of agony to be here in shouto’s fancy high-rise condo, sitting with legs crossed on his couch, watching him quietly prepare dinner while you sit and stew in your questions and insecurities.
it isn't as if this is your first time here. in fact, that's kind of part of the problem; you're beginning to spend more time here than at your own apartment, and while it's not something you're entirely opposed to it does create a number of questions which you can't answer yourself and aren't entirely keen on asking aloud.
you and shouto have something. it's not something you've ever attempted to define before, but you've never much cared for that. he's handsome and attentive and just the right amount of weird, easy too talk to and easy to do more than talking with. you've been more-than-talking with him for many months now so you might consider yourself the foremost expert on more-than-talking with number three pro hero shouto.
but herein lies the issue currently sitting heavy in your heart: for all that more-than-talking you've come to realize you want to be more-than-friends too. and, most terrifying of all, you're not sure he's on the same page.
he's remarkably hard to read, for how candid he generally is. and he doesn't tend to volunteer information like that. so you sit in his fancy living room with eyes on but not seeing him diligently making you food, trying to figure out how to best broach the topic.
“shouto,” you call out finally after your minutes of rumination, and watch as his head pulls up to look at you so he can hum lightly in response, giving you a quiet, content little smile. you feel silly saying it—it's cliche, frankly—but you don’t have the time to think of anything better so the words come tumbling out. “what are we?”
for a moment the words don't seem to register. he blinks at you, once and then twice.
"huh?" is all he seems to manage. he looks almost horrified by your question; the expression on his face is enough to make you wither a little inside.
“i’m sorry,” you rush to say, “i, uh—probably shouldn't have—i’ll go—”
“no!”
he’s even faster, voice frantic like you’ve never heard from him before, eyes wide as he rounds the counter to make for where you’re halfway standing on the couch.
“no?”
“i thought—” he cuts himself off, pauses for a moment. his hands reach out to gently push you back down while he takes the seat next to you. then he says your name. “we’ve been dating since november?”
now you’re mortified for an entirely different reason. “what?”
“this is our six month anniversary?” his brows are furrowed, his nose scrunched-up, his lips pursed.
“it is not,” you say, because you couldn’t have been dating someone without your knowledge. it’s absurd.
"you've met my mother," he points out helpfully, or perhaps desperately.
"i—" he's right, you realize. you've met his mother, and his siblings—including, it's dawning on you, a certain infamous ex-villain who you're quite positive a mere fling would not be given the privilege of being introduced to. "holy shit..."
"you're halfway to moving in."
"i know." you bury your head in your hands. "that's why i asked."
he frowns a little. "did i really not ask you? i could've sworn it was before that gala, you joined me so i figured—"
"you asked me to be your date to the gala."
"is there a difference?" he wrinkles his nose more, shaking his head as you stare in disbelief.
"yes."
"hm." he hums, lost in thought. "i suppose this is on me, then, for not making my intentions clear."
you might be inclined to agree, though it's been far to long to be the fault of either one of you solely. still, his admission soothes the ever-increasing anxiety you'd felt leading up to this conversation, and the mortification of the revelation. you're glad, ultimately, that you've brought it up.
he stands suddenly. you watch quizzically, not moving from your own seat until he holds out a hand for you to take so that he can help you up. then he turns and, without letting go of your hand, heads back towards his bedroom.
"what are you doing?" you're following him despite your question as he leads you.
"making my intentions clear."
he rummages around, digging through his dresser until he finds what he's looking for. it's a velvet clamshell box—a jewelry box, clearly, made all the more obvious as he opens it to show you the dainty, elegant necklace within. you gasp as you stare at it, palm coming up to cover your mouth as your gaze snaps back to him.
"oh, it's gorgeous..."
"i'd intended to give it to you tonight. though i suppose it's a bit much for asking you out properly... i'll do it anyway. will you allow me to date you?"
"yes." you nod enthusiastically. "absolutely."
he's already taking it out of its box with dexterous fingers. soon enough it's dangling in his hold, and he's gesturing for you to turn around. you do as he says, tilting your head down to allow him to put it on you.
"god..." you let yourself giggle, a little breathless, the giddiness of todoroki shouto being your boy friend (for real) getting to you just a tad. "this is gonna be one hell of a wedding story."
"we just started dating and you're already thinking about marrying me? isn't that moving a little fast?"
you hit his chest softly with the back of your hand. "watch it, i'll break up with you on our anniversary."
in response, all he does is press a kiss to the nape of your neck. the smile he's giving you can be felt against your skin.
