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Saiki Kusuo is an all-powerful psychic who has saved the world on several occasions. So many lives have rested on his shoulders countless times. It’s only understandable they’re so insanely tense. It’s just another side effect of his powers, nothing to worry about.
An even more powerful angel disagrees with him.
“Kusuo.” Her voice hums low against the skin of his neck as she hugs him from behind, and a noise escapes him, one she’d usually tease the hell out of him or call him cute for while he’d pretend not to like it. This time Kokomi just laughs against him and that only intensifies the dizzying, tingling feeling that is currently eating him alive. “You’re so tense.”
“I thought you were above stating the obvious.”
She turns him around slowly in her arms and he lets himself be gently tugged. When they’re face to face she doesn’t reply to him, she just frowns and hugs him and the way he melts into her utterly betrays him. He is so unbelievably soft with her, he really should fix it before it’s too late to live it down. Really, it’s only been a year together and she’s already got him thinking…
Well, never mind what he’s thinking. What about what Kokomi’s thinking?
‘Can’t you let me help?’
“If an ice-pick didn’t work, I highly doubt Divine Angel Touch—”
“Don’t mock me while we’re hugging. And wait a second, did you just say an ice-pick?”
“We also tried a jackhammer and electrocution, which worked but—”
“I’m not going to electrocute my boyfriend!”
“Stop interrupting me.”
(Hmm. Boyfriend. Eugh, best not to linger on how much he likes to hear her say it.)
She’s not hugging him anymore. Great, it was getting way too mushy.
…
Why isn’t she hugging him anymore, exactly?
He only cares because of the sudden change in temperature, of course. Sure, he has pyrokinesis, but it’s been very unreliable as of late. The unpredictable rush of heat to his face every now and then is evidence.
(Sometimes he hears what he says and wonders why he even bothers denying things anymore. He’s gotten so bad at it.)
“Lie down on the couch, Kusuo.”
“There’s no point.”
She smiles and takes his hand and he’s already following her.
Yare yare.
“Look at it this way. Even if it doesn’t work, you’ll have been blessed with my Divine Angel Touch, right?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You love me.”
Her face reddens as soon as she’s said it, and he’s just glad she’s too flustered to realize he can’t quite look her in the eyes.
He lies down on the couch. He might as well just get it over with. It’s not like he’s looking forward to this or anything. (God, he sounds like such a stereotypical tsundere, it’s seriously embarrassing. He can’t end up anything like his grandfather, he really, really can’t.)
He waits, and then he listens.
‘Ahh, I didn’t really think this through. How am I going to…and…agh, I know you can hear me, Kusuo.’
She’s nervous. She can’t stop herself from thinking, ‘What if I…hurt him?’
He’s pretty sure that’s impossible, though if anyone could it would be her.
That…he feels suddenly vulnerable. No matter how much he tries to be vulnerable, he hates it every time.
But it’s fine, because he trusts her.
“Are we doing this or not?”
“Right.”
He can’t see her, but he can easily picture the determination he hears in her voice being reflected in her eyes.
She sets herself down carefully, knees on either side of his body. It’s exactly as awkward as they both expected it to be, but once Kokomi sets her mind to something she doesn’t give up, especially when it comes to the people she cares about.
“You’re sure this is alright?”
“This was your idea, Kokomi. But yes. I would tell you if it wasn’t.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
He can’t help the way his entire body shivers as her hands slip underneath his shirt. She doesn’t mean to brush against his waist but he can hear her take note of the reaction it elicits. Slowly, her elegant hands travel up to his shoulders and before he’s fully prepared for it, her fingers press firmly into the tension there.
He doesn’t…uh, mind the way it feels, but it didn’t work the way she intended. His shoulders are still rock solid.
Of course, she’s not done. “Defeat” has never been in the Teruhashi Kokomi dictionary. This time, her touches are ghostly as she traces heavenly circles on his skin. All he can hear from her mind is care, all he can feel are her feather-light fingertips. He presses his face into a cushion to muffle the offu that rises up his throat. He thinks she probably heard it anyway, going by her thoughts, which only become more adoring. She steadily increases her pressure, and with it increases the fluttering in his stomach, the buzzing building up beneath his skin, the beating of his heart and the speed of his breathing.
He doesn’t know how, doesn’t know if her magic fingertips or sheer willpower have somehow been gradually melting the tension away or what, but when she presses down hard he feels it.
The cushion doesn’t hide his groan so well this time, but at least it mostly hides his blush.
He did not make that noise, there’s no way.
(He’s definitely going to have to check on the toaster later.)
Teruhashi gasps. “Kusuo? Are you alright? I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine,” he mutters.
“It’s not fine!”
Oh, good grief.
“I…it, uh…it didn’t hurt.”
‘It didn’t…oh.’
She clearly doesn’t know what to say to that, so she asks, “Did it work?”
He rolls his shoulders around, at least as much as he can while he’s still lying on his stomach. He feels amazing because of course he does, she can do anything, which includes making him think sappy things like that, apparently.
Instead of answering, he rolls over and pulls her down on top of him. She yelps, but quickly adjusts and snakes her arms beneath him. He won’t even deny that he cuddles into her because he’s in her arms and though certain “friends” of his (Aiura and Toritsuka, mainly) would never let him live it down, there’s no one around to see him but her. He doesn’t have to worry about saving the world or saving anything at all except this moment in his memory, when their eyes meet and she presses a kiss to his forehead and he feels safe.
”Thank you.”