(IM SORRY i hate making u talk so much u guys can always change it to whoever you are being like their tone i try to generalize it but sorry im just trying to expand and write a lot idk guys ty)
You're both supposed to be studying.
The table between you and Naoto is a neat warzone of open textbooks, sharpened pencils, and color-coded notes that practically glow under the desk lamp. It’s silent except for the occasional flip of a page and the scratch of pen on paper—until Naoto murmurs, “You’ve been on the same question for the last five minutes.”
You mutter something about just thinking, and she replied, “You’re staring,” not looking up from her own notes. “At me.”
“…I’m still thinking,” you mutter, and Naoto finally lifts her head, eyebrow slightly raised in that trademark detective skepticism.
“Your eyes are dilated,” she says, almost clinical in tone, but her cheeks are starting to turn a little pink. “You’re clearly distracted.”
“And you’re not helping,” you counter, gesturing to her—flushed and focused, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly loosened, a loose strand of hair falling over her temple.
Naoto blinks. “I beg your pardon?”
“You look too good when you’re concentrating.” you add, which earns you a look of exasperated amusement.
“That’s an absurd statement,” she says quietly, though she’s definitely smiling now, and the tip of her pen falters just a little on the page.
“Want me to stop staring?”
“…I didn’t say that.”
It hangs there, suspended between notebooks and the hum of the desk lamp, until Naoto sets her pen down gently and murmurs, “Studying can wait.”
The kiss starts soft—tentative, like a question asked in the space between two chapters—but quickly deepens when her hand moves to your collar and pulls you just a bit closer across the table. You respond in kind, cupping her cheek, fingers brushing against her jaw as her other hand curls into the fabric of your shirt.
Textbooks forgotten, chairs quietly scraping against the floor, you both shift until you're side by side on the couch, mouths still moving together, breathing a little heavier now. When you finally break apart, both flushed and dazed, Naoto glances toward the scattered notes with mock seriousness.
“This wasn’t part of the study schedule, was it...?” she murmurs rhetorically, lip quirking into a small smile.