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At first, Idia didn’t notice a pattern.
This was important. Crucial, even. Because if there was a pattern, that implied forethought. Strategy. Careful planning. And his boyfriend - his BOYFRIEND, still new enough that Idia occasionally panicked about it - was definitely not plotting against him.
…Right?
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The first time it happened, Idia barely registered it.
They’d only been dating about a month then. Still awkward, still in the “do we hold hands or will that cause me to log off permanently” phase.
Idia had been pacing in Azul’s office, ranting about a Mostro Lounge policy that made absolutely no logistical sense.
“You can’t just enforce a minimum order and a service fee,” Idia complained. “That’s redundant. It’s literally punishing people for existing.”
Azul had listened politely, nodded, waited for a pause, and then leaned forward and kissed him.
Just a quick one. Soft. Almost shy.
Idia forgot what he was saying.
“Oh,” Azul said calmly. “So you think it’s okay, then?”
Idia, cheeks on fire, nodded without thinking.
He didn’t even remember what he’d agreed to until later.
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The second time, Idia almost noticed.
They were studying together in the library - Azul pretending to read, Idia actually reading but with anxiety at max stats, when Azul casually suggested rearranging their study schedule to better “optimize productivity.”
Idia frowned. “That’s… It’ll cut into my daily gaming time, and right now there’s a rerun of my favourite card so I gotta lock in.”
Azul hummed thoughtfully. “I see.”
Then he leaned over and kissed the corner of Idia’s mouth, lingering just long enough to make Idia’s entire nervous system reboot.
The Ignihyde housewarden watched as his long grey eyelashes fluttered as he slowly pulled back, returning to his position on the chair.
“…okay,” Idia said faintly. “We can try it.”
Azul smiled and went back to his book.
Idia stared at the page in front of him for a full minute before realizing he had, once again, surrendered without resistance.
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The third time, it became routine.
Not suspicious - routine.
Azul would make a suggestion. Idia would object. Azul would close the distance, kiss him gently, sometimes teasingly, sometimes devastatingly soft.
And then suddenly Idia was agreeing. Every time.
He told himself it was coincidence. Or hormones. Or the novelty of affection short-circuiting his brain.
That was normal, right?
He was new to this. Of course he was a little… pliable.
Besides, Azul wasn’t ALWAYS smug about it. Sometimes he looked genuinely fond. Sometimes his ears turned pink. Sometimes he held Idia’s hand afterward like he wasn’t even thinking about contracts or leverage at all.
So Idia didn’t question it.
Not until the fourth time.
They were in Idia’s room, sprawled on the floor amid cables and screens. Azul had asked, very casually, if Idia would consider attending a social event at the Lounge.
Idia recoiled instantly. “Absolutely not. No. I refuse. That’s a boss-level nightmare scenario.”
Azul shifted closer. “Just for a little while.”
“Nope.”
Azul smiled. Leaned in.
And then Idia’s brain caught up.
He leaned back sharply, eyes wide. “-WAIT.”
Azul froze mid-motion.
The silence stretched.
Idia stared at him. Then at the space between them. Then back at Azul.
“…You,” Idia said slowly, horror dawning, “have been doing this on purpose.”
Azul straightened, adjusting his glasses. “Doing what, exactly?”
“The kisses,” Idia said, voice rising. “Every time I disagree with you. Every time. You - oh my god - you’re conditioning me.”
Azul opened his mouth.
“DON’T,” Idia warned. “Do NOT kiss me right now.”
Azul paused. Considered. Then smiled faintly.
Idia gasped. “YOU SEE? THAT FACE. THAT’S THE FACE.”
“Idia,” Azul said gently, “you’re overthinking this.”
“No, I’m not,” Idia insisted. “You wait until I’m mid-rant, or stressed, or vulnerable, and then you - equip max affection - and my brain turns into pudding!”
Azul sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If it helps, I didn’t realize it at first either.”
Idia blinked. “…You didn’t?”
“Well,” Azul admitted, “I noticed you reacted positively. I merely… adapted.”
“That’s WORSE.”
Azul stepped closer anyway, hands raised in mock surrender. “I never forced you to agree. You always had a choice.”
Idia swallowed. “You knew I wouldn’t take it.”
Azul tilted his head, expression softening. “And yet, you noticed now.”
Idia’s resolve wavered. Just a little.
“Don’t,” he muttered. “I’m serious. If you kiss me again I will-“
Azul reached out to take Idia’s hands, gently wrapping them around his own waist as he tip-toed to press their lips together.
Idia melted so instantly it was almost pathetic. The tips of his hair turned the usual soft shade of pink which practically screamed “I love you so much and you make me so giddy!”. He closed his eyes and embraced the feeling of the octomer’s soft, warm lips, fingers curling into the back of Azul’s uniform like muscle memory.
When Azul pulled back, Idia was breathless, furious, and absolutely doomed.
“…I hate you,” Idia whispered.
Azul smiled, warm and unapologetic. “No, you don’t.”
Idia groaned and dropped his forehead onto Azul’s shoulder. “I was right. I knew it. You plotted this. Over weeks.”
“I prefer ‘observed and refined,’” Azul said, arms slipping around him. “And if it’s any consolation, you’re adorable when you finally catch on.”
“…I’m never escaping from this, aren’t I,” Idia mumbled.
Azul pressed a kiss into his hair, slower now, gentler. “Never.”
Idia sighed, defeated - but smiling despite himself. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Azul chuckled. “I remind myself daily.”
And somehow, despite everything, Idia didn’t pull away.