Sleepovers with Shidou were chaotic by default.

They were loud (mostly from Shidou screaming and laughing) and filled with things like late-night video game marathons, which he always got too competitive about, failed baking attempts that left the kitchen covered in flour—and even spontaneous wrestling matches on your bed that ended with the two of you breathless and giggling.

And one thing Shidou loved to do on every sleepover—is spend ridiculous amounts on matching pyjamas. It didn’t matter if they were expensive or not—he needed to match with you.

And his latest obsession had been on matching Hello Kitty pyjamas—pink, obnoxious with cute little hello kitty prints, which was way too adorable.

He said they looked hilarious, but his obsession with it said otherwise.

And Shidou looked good in them, especially with the way the pastel pink matched the tips of his hair. Blonde messy hair tousled from rolling around on the floor like a cute puppy and that smug little smile curled on his lips like he owned the world.

He always crashed at your place, claiming your bed was soft, that your room was warmer and that your annoying sleeping habits “helped him sleep better” (though they never existed in the first place)—but truthfully, he just liked being near you.

Cuddling, burying himself in your scent as if enchanted by the way your shampoo smelled insanely good, tangling his legs with yours under the sheets. You never really kicked him out. Not once.

Although tonight, he had crossed a line. Accidentally deleting your entire anime watchlist whilst trying to add “hot wrestling clips” to the queue. And you were devastated, immediately telling him to go sit in the corner and reflect.

So now he’s sulking—pouting even. Slouched against the wall in those pink pyjamas, arms crossed and messy blonde hair falling over those bright eyes as he glared at the floor—like it offended him. Occasionally flicking his restless eyes to you with every passing second, silently praying you’d forgive him.

He doesn’t say a single word—let alone a sound, but you can feel the way he’s waiting for you. Like a puppy hoping for a treat like he knows you’re about to cave.

You try to stay mad. You really do. But it’s impossibly hard when he looks so damn cute, even when he’s acting like a brat.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you finally get up, walking over and climbing into his lap. You straddle him, arms curling around his neck as he instantly looks up at you with that boyish grin.

“I’m still mad,” you murmur, your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. 
“Yeah?” he smirks, eyes locking with yours, hands dropping down to settle on your waist. “Then punish me some more, baby.”

And then you kiss him—slow, sweet, and just enough to make him forget he was sulking in the first place.