Work Text:
Momo has been noticing something unusual about her wardrobe in recent times.
Specifically, she’s been noticing that she has a lot less clothing than she’s used to seeing. In fact, the clothing she is missing is the majority of her jumpers and cardigans. Soft cashmere pieces that Momo treasures dearly. Of course, Momo knows where her garments have been vanishing off to, and luckily for them, she treasures Kyouka more.
But still, it’s slightly irksome when she’s feeling chilled, or just wants the comfort of warm wool covering her up. As Momo’s eyes drift over to her desk chair, they catch on the folded fabric looped over the backrest.
Kyouka is always leaving jackets behind, in a way she certainly thinks is incredibly sly. Momo always folds them neatly until they come over next, playing innocent when Kyouka says something about ‘forgetting’ it. She always thanks Momo for keeping it safe, or making sure it got washed — with Momo’s detergent, of course.
But Momo’s arms truly are cold, and so maybe it’s about time she gives Kyouka a taste of her own medicine.
Kyouka is lounging in the common room, stolen jumper sleeves pushed up to their elbows so they’re kept out of the way, when Momo walks in.
Kaminari, the bastard, starts jabbing an elbow into Kyouka’s ribs to catch her attention, and only stops when she looks up at him with her jacks raised threateningly. He gestures to look behind them, and Kyouka rolls their eyes as they do. It’ll shut him up, maybe.
All her thoughts grind to a halt when she sees just why he was so frantic, though.
It’s Momo, wearing a cropped hoodie. Kyouka didn’t even know she owned one of them... but then, the design is familiar. They look closer at the design running down the arms — slightly too small on their girlfriend’s arms, recognising the Present Mic decals as the same ones on their own hoodie.
Wait a second, it can’t be, can it?
Momo says nothing as Kyouka’s eyes go wide, and her jaw drops open slightly in an uncharacteristic display of shock.
She says nothing as her girlfriend’s gaze flicks to the sleeves, sleeves that are uncomfortably digging into her armpits, but angled just enough that the design is visible to anyone looking. A smile fights its way onto Momo’s face when Kyouka’s expression goes from startled to overjoyed, at least Kyouka’s equivalent of it.
Seeing the sparkling eyes, uneven toothy grin, and pink flush across her cheeks, Momo is giddy with the contagious emotion. When they stand up suddenly, Momo can see more of the jumper that Kyouka realistically doesn’t intend on ever giving back.
It slouches off one shoulder, baggy enough on Kyouka’s smaller frame that it drapes halfway down her thighs. It makes her look adorable.
Well, maybe Momo won’t give back this hoodie, either. It’ll need a few adjustments and some getting used to the fit, but if it gets this type of reaction every time she walks into Kyouka’s view, then Momo may just have to start taking more.
“Is that my hoodie?” Kyouka asks, with an almost dreamlike tone.
“Well, I don’t know, Kyouka,” Momo teases in response, finally making her way to sit next to her. “Is that my jumper?”
The kiss she gets is unexpected, but more than welcome. Kyouka has never been a fan of public displays of affection, and frankly, neither has Momo, but she’s happy to cooperate.
What they’re both less happy with is the obnoxious wolf-whistling, but that at least is fixed with a sharp jab from Kyouka.