Midoriya's reluctance to speak plainly is a self-sabotaging oversight. What Paul mistakes for innocence is awkwardness and a complete lack of expectation and experience. The last thing Midoriya wants to do is expect he's being given some permission he hasn't. He wants his friends to feel comfortable around him. He didn't think of what might happen if they patently did.
Unconscious and unbidden, his face turns an impressive shade of fuchsia. He wonders how Paul can be embarrassed about basic sex ed but insist on being--provocative. Knowing how to be safe has no consequences other than being safe. Flirting is communication, potentially an invitation.
We've slept together now... As Kaworu's words repeat in his ears, Midoriya glances down at his own clothes, as if he could forget they're there in one piece. He is painfully aware of how close they're all jumbled together, like on the couch earlier, with too much familiarity. (He doesn't even mind Paul's gross sweat, familiar from sparring.)
"That's--different... Suddenly switching is--You know," he says in exasperation as he lifts his eyes to Kaworu, with whom he shares a language. "Explain to Paul-kun that it sounds like--well--"
Like they've slept together. It's not untrue. Midoriya lets out a strangled sigh and scratches his own bedhead. In the end, it will matter less to him than to the other two.
"You guys can call me whatever, because it's you, Paul-kun... Kaworu-kun." He's going to have so much trouble remembering to call him that. He shifts under Kaworu's legs and against Paul's knee, an unconscious encouragement for them to go ahead and abrade their stupid mouth germs.
no subject
Unconscious and unbidden, his face turns an impressive shade of fuchsia. He wonders how Paul can be embarrassed about basic sex ed but insist on being--provocative. Knowing how to be safe has no consequences other than being safe. Flirting is communication, potentially an invitation.
We've slept together now... As Kaworu's words repeat in his ears, Midoriya glances down at his own clothes, as if he could forget they're there in one piece. He is painfully aware of how close they're all jumbled together, like on the couch earlier, with too much familiarity. (He doesn't even mind Paul's gross sweat, familiar from sparring.)
"That's--different... Suddenly switching is--You know," he says in exasperation as he lifts his eyes to Kaworu, with whom he shares a language. "Explain to Paul-kun that it sounds like--well--"
Like they've slept together. It's not untrue. Midoriya lets out a strangled sigh and scratches his own bedhead. In the end, it will matter less to him than to the other two.
"You guys can call me whatever, because it's you, Paul-kun... Kaworu-kun." He's going to have so much trouble remembering to call him that. He shifts under Kaworu's legs and against Paul's knee, an unconscious encouragement for them to go ahead and abrade their stupid mouth germs.