The first time, Jirou is slightly amused, but mostly sour and annoyed.
She had a rough day. First the noon patrol under the merciless rays of the summer sun, then being called in for help against a long-range fighting villain during the evening. She only arrived home an hour ago, heated up whatever leftovers she could find in her mostly empty fridge- shopping could wait until tomorrow, she doubted her sore feet would even fit in any of the shoes she owned at this point- and dined in her empty apartment.
Plunging into her sofa and tuning the guitar, Jirou thinks she doesn't hate living alone in the least. Yaomomo asked her if she didn't want to move in together and share an apartment and while that would have been more practical from a financial standpoint, Jirou just couldn't accept the offer. Yaomomo was one of the few people Jirou felt comfortable around, but not even her presence allowed Jirou the freedom to plug in her guitar and play a melancholic rock balade, like she does now.
There is something oddly comforting about filling silence with her own notes, overwriting the sound of her heart beating in her ears with music. Because for Jirou, there is never silence in the broadly accepted sense. Jirou's silence is listening to her own heartbeat, courtesy of her quirk, and matching her breaths to the rhythmic pounding in her chest.
She keeps the lights in her living room off, because light in itself is as loud as sound, and all she needs to see the chords is the faint moon rays- although she's pretty sure she doesn't need to look at her guitar to play at this point. Still, she likes being bathed in the gentle silver light of the moonlit sky, and finds solace in the fact that, just as her, the moon has to reflect the sun in order to shine.
So when her phone lights up to disturb the harmonious melody, Jirou clicks her tongue in displeasure. Her brow creases into a frown when she picks up her phone from the coffee table and sees the image of Kaminari's dumb electrocuted face take up her entire screen.
"Pikachu," she states as she picks up, stifling a groan and waiting for him to spout his nonsense. She glances at the clock and decides to give this conversation a maximum of three minutes of her time.
"No, it's me." Kirishima's voice surprises Jirou from the other end of the line and her frown deepens. What has that idiot done this time? She doesn't need to ask, because Kirishima helpfully supplies, "We were out drinking and I'm afraid Kami's wasted." Jirou hears a faint protest in the background, doubtlessly Kaminari, who vehemently- and slurry- proclaims, "No 'ay, dude." "Sure, man," Kirishima peacefully says, and then back to Jirou, "Anyway, I'm afraid to leave this guy home alone, so can I leave him to you?"
"Why don't you let him crash at your place?" Jirou asks not to be mean, but out of genuine curiosity. Kirishima lives closer to the bar they always go to anyway- Kaminari once coerced her into going there: good drinks, but way too loud for her taste.
"Oh." There's a pause and Jirou wonders if Pikachu got himself in trouble or Kirishima dropped his phone but then he stutters, "I-I kinda have someone over and… No more beds," he murmurs.
It takes Jirou a moment to remember Bakugou going crazy earlier in the week about Kirishima and Ashido finally dating, so she spares him the embarrassment. "Sure," she sighs, "bring him over. He's already dumb when he's sober, I fret for his life when he's drunk."
Kirishima laughs good-naturedly. "I'll bring him to you shortly, then. Thanks, Jirou."
"Mhm," she says before cutting off the call. Her phone blinks back to blackness and Jirou looks around her empty and dark apartment and gets off the creaking couch. She has a feeling it's going to become very loud and full of light as soon as Kaminari steps in.
As she cleans around the living room and takes out a pillow for the drunkard, Jirou feels an incoming headache. She and Kaminari are polar opposites by nature: his quirk is electricity, light in and of itself; he's loud and obnoxious, always bubbly and laughing or making the others laugh; hell, even his hair is golden, which, as he highlighted several times in the first week upon their meeting all those years ago, is the contrasting color of purple. Jirou scratches her head defeated and lets out another long sigh: how did she ever become friends with Pikachu?
The answer, she knows, is simple, but the doorbell wakes her up of her contemplation and she opens the front door to a Kirishima holding Kaminari's arm over his shoulder and supporting half of his body weight. "It's spinning!" Kaminari says instead of greeting and Kirishima smiles nervously. "Thank you, Jirou."
She's already regretting her decision when she nods and takes Kaminari from Kirishima's arms. She isn't prepared for him to slump his whole weight on her and staggers, but quickly finds her footing and looks at Kirishima over Kaminari's shoulder. The red haired looks mildly concerned. "Are you sure you…?"
"I'll be fine," she assures him with a wave of her free hand, the other one wrapped around Kaminari's torso so he doesn't slip away from her grip and onto the hard floor- it'd wake the neighbours. "Him though?" she adds, pointing to the drunk man. "Not so sure."
"Sorry," Kirishima rubs the back of his neck apologetically. "Should have kept a better eye on him."
"Nah, it's his own fault for being an idiot." Kaminari mutters muffled protests in her shoulder but she ignores him.
One more concerned look to his friend later, Kirishima bids his goodbyes and leaves. Now alone with the blond, alcohol-reeking mess, Jirou ponders her options. She could simply ditch him on the couch and go to her room, which she is very tempted to do, given how annoyed she is with the situation and how much her feet hurt- carrying the weight of another person does nothing to better the situation in that regard. But judging from the smell alone, he will puke sooner rather than later and she'd rather him not choke on his own vomit or, even worse, dirty her carpet.
So she settles on dragging him to the living room and sitting him down on the couch, which proves to be an adventure as Kaminari either stubs his foot into the wall and yelps in her ears- Jirou considers herself a hero simply for not slapping him- or he almost falls to the floor, giving Jirou a fright for her life. In the end, he remembers that he has arms and circles them around Jirou's waist as she half-lifts-half-drags him to his improvised bed, where he plops livelessly.
She's about to get him a glass of water when he miraculously comes back to life to grab her wrist. "J-jirou," he slurs and she tries really hard not to laugh, because he looks even more stupid than when electrocuted. "You're spinniiiiing!" He talks like an excited four year old, and tries spinning his head but gets dizzy quickly so he stops, frowning at a particular spot in Jirou's carpet. He then whips his head to her too quickly, and narrows his eyes, as if there's too much to take in when he just wants to focus on Jirou's face.
She closes in on him and asks, "Am I still spinning?"
He's squinting, but he manages an uncertain "No" before his face goes back to normal and he happily exclaims, "Jirou, you have beautiful eyes."
She ignores the rapid and out of sync thump of her heart and shakes her head, stating the obvious, "You're drunk." She gets up to head into the kitchen again, but forgets about Kaminari holding her hand. He looks up at her accusingly, as if she's leaving him behind. With another sigh- she's lost count of them tonight- she explains, "I'll get you a glass of water and be right back, so stay here."
She tries leaving again, but there's a tug on her wrist. "Promise you'll come *hiccup* come back?"
She's about to snap with a snarky comeback, but then she meets his puppy dog eyes again and gives in, because there's genuine fear in them. "Yes," she promises. He's still looking doubtful, so she adds "Pinky promise and everything."
He then lets her go then, satisfied with her answer. Jirou walks into her kitchen on autopilot. It's strange, because she can't get the intensity of Kaminari's look out of her mind, and although he's drunk and disheveled and the last word she'd use to describe his chain of thoughts is coherent, there's something raw about his emotions that hits her like a truck, and makes her head pound and her heart rate increase. She searches a pill for Kaminari and decides to swallow one herself.
When Jirou walks into the living room again, she sees Kaminari curled like a real Pikachu on her couch. She doesn't allow herself to think the sight is endearing, because she knows that will open a rabbit hole for her to freefall into, so instead, she drops the pill in his palm and puts the glass of water on the table. After he downs the liquid and ingests the pill, Jirou dares ask, "Why did you get so drunk?"
She expects a Kaminari answer like "Weee" or "Why not?". Actually, she expects anything but what he says.
"Because I was sad."
She feels a weird pang of pain in her chest and the urge to hug him almost makes her get up and smell his aftershave and the beer he had again, but then he quietly adds, "I think I was lonely."
"Lonely?" Jirou repeats, and tries to understand how that word can be linked to the ever-energetic Kaminari.
He simply nods. "Kirishima has Ashido now," he eventually says, staring down at his empty glass of water. "And Bakugou is focused on being the number one hero." Jirou watches his hands and sees that they tremble slightly; he grips the glass tighter. "Sero is in Kyoto now. And I'm… here." His voice breaks with the last word.
Jirou's body reacts before she gets to discuss her actions with her brain, and her hands clasp Kaminari's. His eyes finally lock with hers, glassy and threatening to water. "I'm here too," Jirou says and squeezes Kaminari's hands gently. She's not good at this comforting thing- she's a loner and she's fine with that. Kaminari, on the other hand, is a people's person, and he feeds off the others' love and attention. So she adds, "I may not be the most fun person to have around, but-"
Kaminari cuts her off with a hug, so tight Jirou has to fight for breath for a moment, and wonders when he got this muscular and how he can even use this amount of strength when he's wasted. She doesn't exteriorise any of her thoughts though, and hugs him back, running a hand through his fluffy hair.
"Thanks," Kaminari's breath ghosts over her neck. She hums in return, taming down his unruly hair. "And Jirou?" He raises his head from the crook of her neck to meet her eyes, "You're fun."
/
The second time it happens, Jirou is much less annoyed and much more surprised, because this time, he's sober.
Fittingly, it's nighttime- 2 am, to be exact, because that's when their shift ends and they let Todoroki and Yaomomo take over. Shouto looks sleepy, and Creati's hair is sticking up from her ponytail, but neither of them complain about having to get up at midnight to protect the city. Jirou guesses it's because they're doing it together, and because night shifts give them the privacy they never let others know they long for.
Jirou steals a glance at Kaminari, who's slowed down to walk next to her. It's curious, she thinks- Pikachu is always loud, but for once, they're together in silence- the broadly accepted meaning, of course, but the absence of nonsense spouted out of Blondie's mouth is nonetheless jarring. Jirou decides she enjoys this, and a small part of her is surprised to find this unsurprising. It's comfortable, and simply knowing he's at her side makes her feel safe.
They're in their hero outfits, and to the few people that still lure around on the streets, they're Earphone Jack and ElectroBolt, but to her, they're Jirou and Kaminari, walking together in the light of the moon and enjoying the sort of tranquillity Jirou never thought she could share with anyone.
And then Kaminari just has to ruin everything and ask, "Hey Jirou, can I crash at your place?"
So many responses run through Jirou's head. Can you what now? or I don't know, can you, Pikachu? It's very tempting to ask if he has short circuited himself or was born an idiot. But all she blurts out is, "Huh?"
"Well we're just off the patrol, and your house is nearby and I'm sleepy and hungry and you cook really well. And also your couch is softer than my bed-"
It's like Kaminari broke the dam to the barrel where he stored his words, and Jirou sees herself forced to stab him with her jacks in his chest. He stops and rubs the place where she hit him, but doesn't take his eyes off her. Feeling backed into a corner, Jirou resorts to her ultimate blade: sarcasm. "Did you have a list prepared?"
There's a moment of hesitation before Kaminari asks more than states, "Maybe?" Jirou bites her lower lip to keep in both a sigh and a chuckle, because he's still staring at her. "So can I?" he asks again.
Jirou ignores the blood rushing to her face, probably leaving her brain because she finds herself shrugging and answering, "Oh, fine."
"Really?" His face lights up instantaneously, and he's smiling so widely that Jirou's concerned he'd break his muscles.
"Yeah, whatever," is what she says. What she thinks, though, is that Kaminari's the sun and she's the moon, and she wonders if they can really coexist.
"You suck," Jirou tells Kaminari as he attempts playing her guitar, and fails dramatically. He's sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall, wearing one of her oversized hoodies. Jirou always thought she'd barf at a sight as domestic as this, but with Kaminari, she just feels like laughing, because his pouting face is absolutely ridiculous.
"You do it like this," she says and moves a jack over one of the cords, making them vibrate in the still air surrounding them.
Kaminari tries imitating her, but manages to somehow mess it up. Granted, it's not that bad- he's a decent guitar player and the song is difficult- but Jirou would never pass on the opportunity to pretend her ears are bleeding and make fun of him. He rolls her eyes at her, "You do it then."
She claims back her guitar and confidently states, "Watch and learn, Pikachu."
Jirou hits the first chord and then allows the song to flood the room. Out of her fingers, out of her guitar, the notes pierce through the silence and mingle together into the harmonious Cliffs of Dover. This is Jirou's travel piece, the kind of song she'd listen to while driving (if she had a licence) with the windows down and the wind playing mindlessly with her hair. It's the type of lyricless song Jirou finds herself resonating with, because words aren't the only sounds that can express feelings.
She doesn't know why she chose this song when Kaminari picked up her precious guitar and asked her to teach him something, but then she doesn't know why he made that request or why she's fine with him touching her instruments without feeling the desire to kill him either, so she doesn't question it much. So she just closes her eyes while pinching the chords she has learned by heart and imagines the empty, winding highway driving through bronze forests and the wind whooshing past her ears, swallowing the sound of her heartbeat and the sound of words, and leaving behind just the essential: music.
And then the song comes to a close and Jirou opens her eyes and looks up, and she sees the sun.
The sun is staring back at her with his golden eyes, glimmering in the dim light of the lamp, and Jirou is lost because he's not blinding her. Instead of feeling the need to advert her eyes, Jirou feels like the only thing she can see is him, like the sunset, and she begins to wonder whether toning down is the price he has to pay to be with the moon for a short amount of time.
And then the sun speaks, and it goes back to being Kaminari again. "Can I try that?"
"Sure."
/
The third time Jirou is less surprised and more panicked and worried, because he's not only sober, but also bleeding.
It's evening again when Jirou's stomach growls and she opens up the fridge on her never ending quest to find uneaten food in the depths of the freezer. Surprising even herself, her search is fruitful and she ends up frying tempura and cooking rice. It's basic, but it'll fill her stomach before she sets on the real journey: the supermarket trip.
As she sets down to eat, she acts as a responsible pro hero and turns on the TV to stay up to date with the newest attacks, a decision which she comes to regret not even two minutes after stuffing her face with bland rice.
Jirou immediately drops her fork with a loud sound on the plate, because there, on the screen, is doubtless evidence of the newest raid, with the title: Dangerous Villains?! 3 Heros Gravely Injured, 2 in Critical Condition, playing in yellow letters over a red background over the footage of the fight.
And the unmistakable blond hair of a certain Pikachu is in the foreground.
Jirou feels her head spinning and wastes no time to grab her phone as fast as she can with trembling hands. She wills her hands to cooperate, but they're shaking more with each second that she spends staring at Kaminari's contact and his stupid, dumb face.
A stupid, dumb face she wants to see more than anything right now.
Maybe the gods aren't merciful with Jirou all the time, but they take pity on her now, because the doorbell rings and she knows that's Kaminari before she sprints to open it widely.
"Hi," a ragged voice greets her.
Sure enough, he's there. She'd like to say he's checking her out as he usually does and then finger guns her, but she would be lying, because he's looking at her with the one eye that isn't swollen and purple, and he grimaces when he tries to smile, probably from the pain caused by the deep cut near his mouth. His cheeks are covered in cuts and bruises, and there's an especially nasty injury on his forehead, near the line of his hair, that may scar. The rest of his body is even worse, his hero costume covered in still fresh blood, but he is alive.
And he's here.
"Why are you here?" are the first words that leave her mouth, and they cut her throat like pieces of broken glass. "Why aren't you in the hospital?"
His eyes soften, and he manages a crooked smile with his slightly less covered in bruises cheek. Jirou feels her knees dangerously close to weakening too much, so when Kaminari opens one arm in a tentative invitation, she grabs onto him, hoping he has no broken ribs because she can't control the force of her hug.
"I promised to go to the hospital after I saw you," he whispers in her ear, voice raspy but unmistakably his. "I wasn't as injured as the others, so they let me go if I promised to go for a check-up in the next 24 hours."
"Stop talking, you idiot," Jirou whispers as digs her nails into his back, where she can feel him closer, not caring in the least that blood is rubbing off her favourite sweater or that his shoulder is damp with her worries. "Never scare me like that again," she says. I was worried is left unsaid.
"I'm sorry." She feels him smiling that crooked grin into her hair again, and holds onto the sound of his beating heart. "Can I crash here tonight?"
"Only if you promise to call me next time you need help."
She feels his lips on her forehead and leans into his touch. "I promise."
A shaky smile blooms on her lips and she glimpses up at him through her eyelashes. "Then let me get my first aid kit. You look terrible."
/
The fourth time Jirou isn't so much panicked as she is confused and dumbfounded, because he isn't bleeding and he carries a backpack with him.
"I'm declaring movie night!" is all he says as explanation as he walks past her and into her living room and settles down on the couch as if it were his own house, casually unpacking his backpack.
Jirou follows him after locking the front door, jacks prepared to stab him until he jumps out the window, but they freeze halfway when she sees him pulling DVDs out. "What's that?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow and pointing with her jacks to the case in his hand.
"It's La La Land!" Kaminari beams at her, barely containing his bouncing, just like a kid. "Yaomomo recommended it to me! I thought we could watch it together!"
He proceeds to completely ignore Jirou's gaping mouth as he places two bags of instant popcorn, three bags of chips and a dose of Jirou's favourite Dr. Pepper along with a Fanta on the coffee table- Jirou's coffee table.
"Puzzled" is too mild to describe what Jirou's feeling at the sight of his natural behaviour, but what truly blows her mind is that she herself finds he fits the landscape of her apartment. He shines in a way that doesn't make her want to wear sunglasses, but just bask in the warmth he irradiates.
"You can't just walk into my house and declare movie night!" she protests, not as angry as she has the right to be.. "This could be considered trespassing!" once again, Jirou fails to sound persuasive. If anything, it sounds like she wants to convince herself of the absurdity of the situation.
Kaminari graces her with a sideway glance and one of his electric smiles. "You need to relax every now and again, Jirou," he declares, as if it's her that's being absurd. "Think fast," he shouts and quickly throws her the Dr. Pepper dose before returning his undivided attention to the backpack's content. "Besides, I brought the movie and the food, you provide the accommodation. It sounds only fair to me," he smiles and flickers the TV to life with the press of a button.
Jirou mutters "You could have at least bothered to give me a heads-up" under her breath and is sure it went unheard, until Kaminari replies.
"But then you would have said you were busy or something." He gets up to put the CD into the player, leaving Jirou to blink at him dumbfounded and then stick her tongue out childishly behind his back. "And I even chose a musical," Kaminari says, back still turned to her as he fumbles with the settings. "Figured you'd like it."
More than his barging into her apartment, Jirou is taken aback by this line, nonchalantly thrown in the space between them but hitting her with the impact of a good delivered punch. She could never quite predict Kaminari's moves and words, just like the trajectory of a lightning bolt is unknown until it hits you. When he turns to smile dazzlingly at her and sits down on the couch, patting the place next to him, she sighs and figures the moon also has to make sacrifices to spend time with the sun.
The movie begins just as you'd expect your typical love-hate relationship to, but Kaminari still coes and exclaims "AW!" every now and again, nudging Jirou when something cute happens on screen. "Did you see that? They're dancing Jirou! Dancing!" She just rolls her eyes and bites back a smile at his endearing excitement by eating a fist of popcorn.
She doesn't realise how close they're sitting until Kaminari turns away from the screen to point something out one time and bumps his nose against her forehead, gently brushing his lips over the tip of her nose. Jirou blushes instantaneously, and Kaminari suddenly becomes very engrossed in the movie again, forgetting whatever it was he wanted to tell her. If Jirou wasn't too embarrassed to look anywhere but at his face, she would have noticed a dust of pink matching her blush.
Not even a minute later, though, his fingers find hers and he intertwines them. Jirou jolts and finally looks up at him, but his eyes are glued to the screen, so she gently leans against his shoulder in return and pokes her jacks together. The movie is lost to her for the next ten minutes.
She doesn't remember how the movie ended- perhaps she fell asleep before its end, or she was just too focused on Kaminari's warm hand touching hers to care enough. What she does remember, though, is that she didn't get electrocuted when he touched her, and instead of the immediate rejection she always expected to feel whenever their skin brushed, she felt attraction. Acceptance.
A feeling she doesn't want to name takes over her and she closes her eyes and focuses on Kaminari's presence and the sound of his heartbeat, loud and clear in her ears. It's matching hers.
/
The fifth time Jirou isn't as much confused as she is embarrassed, because he doesn't invite himself to stay over; instead, it's her who launches the suggestion.
Jirou has never liked the press. Heros underwent training for that too, in their third year at UA, but she still feels uncomfortable answering questions with the flashes blinding her and the microphones shoved in her face, fighting for her attention. She holds nothing against the journalists doing their job, but she'd surely appreciate some more personal space and some less shouting.
Kaminari always throws around his "It's just like getting up on stage and singing. You only have to face the music," line with a wide, reassuring smile, but her stomach is still against the whole invasion of privacy deal and clearly states so by making Jirou want to throw up.
She's at least grateful she isn't alone. Kaminari's there- her subconscious snorts: he's always there when she truly needs him. Another flash blinds the both of them and she hears his voice in the back of her head, reminding her to smile, which she does- as much as she can without being creepy, anyway.
She slowly finds her footing on the next questions and has enough confidence to square her shoulders and exchange a glance with her fellow hero, who winks subtly. And then interviewers just have to ask the question she dreads the most.
"You and ElectroBolt are like day and night. How do you maintain such a strong partnership?"
Jirou feels her smile crackle and digs her nails into her palms, trying not to let the impact of the question show on her face. After all, they aren't saying anything she doesn't know, so why does it hurt so much to hear it out loud? She knows Kaminari is her polar opposite, and the fact that their partnership, and somehow friendship, has been lasting up to now is mostly thanks to the efforts he constantly makes to tone down around her.
But when she opens her mouth to deliver a casual "I know, right? How we work together is a mystery to us too," she hears his voice, clear and steady and piercing through all of her fears.
"Is that the impression we leave?" Kaminari chuckles, but it's forced. His tone is playful when he continues, but his eyes sparkle with seriousness, "I always felt we were more like lightning and thunder. We come as a result of the same phenomenon, like a special package. Except that it's actually me who's slower, right, Earphone?"
His lips are peeled into a sheepish smile when he locks focused eyes with her, so she plays along. "True. I could use that lightning speed every now and then."
"I promise to work on it," he laughs jovially. The reporters soon join him, and the interview continues without a hitch.
Kaminari's serious look is imprinted in Jirou's mind for the rest of the reportage, and she smiles naturally when she remembers that Kaminari can't lie, falling into his pace as she picks up where he left off and elaborates on answers.
"Well now, that's done," Kaminari lazily yawns as he stretches his arms behind his back and strolls next to Jirou, taking big, but slow steps. He's like a huge lazy cat, and Jirou pictures him with whiskers, which elicits a giggle out of her. The blond gives her a puzzled look. "You seem to be in high spirits," he notices, confusion painted over his tired features.
"Is that so surprising?" Jirou folds her arms, more out of curiosity than anger.
"A bit. Ouch!" he exclaims when she jabs him with one of her jacks in his side. "I didn't mean that in a bad way! You just don't like being in the public eye that much."
"Oh," is all she can come up with. He's right- but he's also oblivious, because the cause of her good mood is none other than him. She bites her lower lip and mulls over his line for a while longer before the words slip out, "Did you really mean what you said back there?"
"Hmm?" Kaminari looks at her sideways, casually asking, "Oh, you mean the team part? Yeah," he hums, locking his fingers behind his neck and looking up at the evening sky, painted with a dusk of yellow that turns purple towards the margins of the skyline. "I really do think we make a good team," he repeats quietly, eyes glued to the setting sun.
Jirou follows his look and rests her eyes on the sky bleeding purple. "Do you ever feel that we're way too different?" She isn't sure whether she said the question out loud or not, but at this point, she wouldn't be too surprised if Kaminari was reading her mind.
"Sometimes," he admits. She doesn't jab him with her jacks. "But then again, that's not necessarily bad. It means we have more perspectives. And you're always there to save me when I need you." A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, so bright Jirou almost forgets the sun is setting, and he finally looks at her. "So thank you, Jirou."
It's probably him that's saved her, she thinks. Not just during missions or villain raids, but by shedding light on her without her asking, and by barging into her life when she wouldn't even let herself in. She says none of that though, because it's too cheesy for even Pikachu, and she's positive she'd melt into oblivion if she voiced such thoughts.
Instead, she settles for "Do you want to crash at my place?"
/
"Pikachu, what's with this mess?" Jirou groans as she steps into his room. Shirts, buttoned and unbuttoned, on hangers or disheveled, red and blue and yellow are thrown all around his room, and especially all over his bed.
She looks over her shoulder at Kaminari, who scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. "I didn't know what to wear this morning?" he asks more than states.
He's wearing ragged jeans and one of his ACDC T-shirts now, matching Jirou's Guns N' Roses look. Jirou doubts she's imagining the out of place pink on his cheeks and allows herself to find it endearing. One of her jacks extends to grab a shirt that has attracted her attention ever since she entered the room. "Purple?" she questions, a hint of irony in her voice as she quirks an eyebrow.
"Well," Kaminari sheepishly says, "I thought we could match if you own a yellow shirt or something."
Jirou's face matches him with a blush of her own and her hand finds him, intertwining their fingers. "I don't have many yellow clothes. Do you want to go shopping tomorrow?"
Pikachu's face lights up with that smile that lights the star and gives the moon light to reflect and squeezes her hand. "Sounds like a plan."
It's not the first time when Jirou sleeps at his place, neither is it the last. Kaminari still crashes on her couch every now and again, and complains about not being let to sleep on her soft bed; Jirou tells him his house is messy every time she visits and always uses her jacks to give him a hand in cleaning. By now, she isn't surprised or scared or embarrassed when he spends the nights anymore. She simply feels at ease and pulls out her guitar to sing Cliffs of Dover, which he's learnt by heart.
When he asks her to move in together, Jirou remembers why their relationship works: it's because they're both electrons, crashing together to emmit thunder and lightning. And because they both love the storms.
AN: Hello again~
It's my first time writing only KamiJirou, but I hope you enjoyed them, because they're very close to my heart and I love their interactions! I also hope they weren't to OOC, please let me know in the comments! If you enjoyed this, let me know if you'd like me to tackle another pairing in a longer oneshot like this. I have a Christmas TodoMomo prompt already written, and I'll post it here, too, so look forward to that!
Till next time, lovely readers!~