Chapter Text
Your couch is small.
Katsuki is not.
Which is probably why you're pressed up against him, as the movie plays.
You're pretty sure neither of you is watching the movie.
Your nerves are still buzzing from the confession, and your cheeks are rosy.
You're warm.
You're flustered.
But you're unbelievably happy.
Katsuki’s ears are still red. And he's close enough that your knuckles brush every few moments.
You swear he's doing it on purpose.
Halfway through the movie, his phone buzzes.
His eyes darken as he glances at the screen.
“... Fucking PR” he mutters.
You snort. “What do they want now?”
He taps his screen, jaw clenching, then hands you the phone so you can see too.
The text reads:
PR Team:
Katsuki, your interview is trending. We think you should use this momentum to build your image. Maybe reach out to that reporter and see if you two could do a fake dating PR move? It could soften your reputation nicely.
You blink.
Katsuki's eyes twitch.
You can't help but laugh. First at the message, then at how offended he looks.
“Are you going to fake date me?” you tease.
He shoots you a look.
“What? Fuck no, I literally just confessed,” he scowls, “the fuck are these idiots–”
Then he pauses, eyes flicking from the phone to where your hand rests by his.
Slowly—boldly—he slides his fingers underneath yours and laces them together.
Your breath catches.
He smirks.
A dangerous, smug Katsuki kind of smirk.
Without breaking eye contact, he lifts his phone, flips the camera, and snaps a photo.
You squeak.
“Katsuki—!”
In the picture, he’s holding your hand. Your fingers are intertwined.
And you—cheeks blazing red, eyes wide—look unmistakably like someone on a date.
He sends it.
Katsuki:
Fake date? What about a real one?
He leans back extremely pleased with himself.
His phone buzzes again.
PR:
I–oh, well continue then.
Your heart practically somersaults.
“Still,” you mumble, hiding your face, “you didn’t have to send a picture…”
“Sure I did.”
“Katsuki.”
“What? They needed visual confirmation.”
His smirk widens. “And you look cute.”
You freeze.
Your brain's stopped functioning.
Your face flushes and you try to cover your face.
But he's smiling.
Soft. Warm. Real.
It melts you.
You drop your hands and lean into him without thinking. His arm immediately slips around your shoulders, pulling you closer.
The movie's playing, but you don't register it.
You're too focused on the slow rise and fall of his chest.
The warmth of his hand.
The fact that he's here—after all these years—with you.