“Dunno why you’re always fightin’ me on shit, you never win,” Toji mutters as he glances out the window, kissing his teeth.

The streetlights outside cast a dim glow through the windshield, painting long shadows across Toji’s face. You’re arguing with your boyfriend in the middle of some parking lot at midnight over god knows what. You roll your eyes as you sink further into the passenger seat. You’re pissed at him. Maybe over something small, maybe over nothing at all — but Toji has this way of pulling it out of you, handling you with ease.

“That eye roll again,” Toji mutters as his eyes narrow on you, relaxed back in his car seat, head rolled back against the headrest, watching you, the way your jaw is clenched slightly, your brows pinched. But he’s calm, like fucking always.

“Lose the attitude,” Toji rumbles and it does something to you — makes your stomach clench slightly. Damn it.

Toji never rise to the bait, doesn’t match your fire with fire. No — he lets you burn yourself out. Lets you snap and glare and throw every sharp edge you have at him, only to drag you back down to earth with nothing but a look, a word, a touch. Calm and goddamn collected. He always is when you get like this — when your words are a little sharper, your glare a little more defiant, when you test the limits of his patience.

And fuck if you don’t like that.

Toji eyes narrow when you shift closer to him, when you lean over to him and he grabs your hand when you try reach for him.

“Back up,” Toji kisses his teeth, confused by the sudden movement but you move undeterred, threading your fingers into his dark hair to tilt his head down.

“What’re you doin’—?” Toji trails off when your lips slot over his. His eyes fall shut, grip on your hand slackening, responding like it’s instinct, mouth moving against yours. And then you move back, leaning back in your seat and he stares at you and absently flicks his tongue over his bottom lip to taste the remnants of your lip balm on him.

Ain’t that fuckin’ interesting?