Gojo was draped upside-down on the couch like a forgotten throw blanket, white hair hanging off the edge, sunglasses sliding dangerously down his nose.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined dramatically, stretching the word like a dying cat. “I’m booooored.”

You didn’t even look up from your laptop. Unfazed. As always.

He gasped, placing a hand on his chest.

“Did you just ignore me? Cold. Ice cold.” Still nothing.

He rolled dramatically onto the floor with a thud, limbs splayed like a fallen mannequin.

“…Babe. I think I’m dying. I need affection to survive. I’m like a plant. A very handsome plant.” Silence.

“Okay,” he muttered, sitting up and scooting over until he was just barely within your personal bubble. “I’ll behave.”

You side-eyed him, finally. He beamed instantly, victorious. Leaned in close.

“I win.”

You sighed. “Gojo.” “Yes, my stern goddess?” Another sigh. “You said you were going to let me finish this report.” “I am letting you! I’m just adding romantic ambiance.”

He snapped his fingers. A single rose appeared in his hand. Where he got it? Mystery. “Here. A peace offering from your lovable nuisance.”

You tried not to smile — and failed. Just a little. Gojo caught it instantly, grinning like a kid who got the last cookie.

“See? You do love me.”He leaned his head on your shoulder, surprisingly quiet now.

“…I know I’m a lot,” he mumbled, voice lower now, almost sincere. “But I like that you’re serious. It keeps me grounded. Even if you pretend not to laugh at my jokes.”

He didn’t move, content in the silence he’d previously tried to destroy. “I’ll be good,” he said, eyes closed. “Just for you.”