Makoto gasped as if struck. "Wait—wait."
Saiki tensed. That tone never led anywhere sane.
Makoto sat up abruptly, grabbing Saiki by the shoulders with wide, scandalized eyes. "You didn't see me naked, did you?"
Saiki blinked. "No."
"But you could have."
"…Yes?"
Makoto's hands flew to his chest as though trying to protect his modesty from invisible x-ray vision. "So I've been mentally AND physically naked this whole time?!"
Saiki looked skyward. "I said I didn't look."
Makoto wailed, collapsing dramatically into the pillows. "I can never recover from this. This is psychological nudity! Emotional streaking! How am I supposed to live knowing you of all people could've seen everything?"
"I didn't."
"But you could've." He peeked at Saiki, a wicked grin now forming. "You didn't want to peek?"
"I didn't think it was necessary."
Makoto gasped in fake betrayal. "So you didn't want to?"
"I'm going home."
Makoto grabbed his wrist like a desperate soap opera heroine. "You can't go. Not when I'm this emotionally raw. I've been spiritually naked in your psychic presence and you're just gonna walk away?"
Saiki sighed and sat back down.
Makoto beamed, victorious.
Then, with mock seriousness, he whispered, "It's okay, though. If you did see me naked, I forgive you. I mean, who wouldn't peek?"
"I didn't."
Makoto leaned closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Are you sure you're not just trying to preserve my delicate feelings?"
Saiki narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you're not a psychic too?"
Makoto blinked innocently. "Why? Because I know how to push your buttons?"
Saiki didn't respond out loud, but his face flushed faintly—and Makoto caught it immediately.
"Aha!" Makoto crowed, pointing at him. "That's what I wanted to see. Kusuo, you're blushing!"
"I'm overheated."
"From embarrassment!"
Saiki deadpanned. "From proximity to someone whose inner monologue once said, and I quote: 'I bet he'd look hot shirtless and annoyed.'"
Makoto shrieked and dove face-first into the pillows. "I WAS HAVING A MOMENT!!"
Saiki, against his better judgment, allowed the tiniest smirk.
Makoto peeked up from the pillow fortress he'd buried himself in. "So… you're staying, right?"
Saiki looked at him, utterly deadpan. "I was under the impression this was a hostage situation."
Makoto gasped. "You're saying no?"
"I'm saying I never said yes."
"But Kusuo," Makoto whined, dragging out his name in an unnecessarily tragic wail, "we finally opened up to each other. We shared secrets. We're trauma bonded. How can you just leave me here, emotionally exposed and spiritually naked—again—after all that?"
"You've said the word 'naked' six times in the past three minutes."
"Because that's how vulnerable I feel!"
Saiki stared.
Makoto clutched the nearest blanket to his chest like a tragic widow in mourning. "We should have a sleepover. To heal. Emotionally. And so you can't run away the moment I say something embarrassing."
"I can teleport."
Makoto sat up like he'd been shot. "So you are planning to run!"
Saiki exhaled slowly, a migraine blooming behind his eyes.
Makoto tilted his head, eyes wide with faux innocence. "C'mon, we're already in my room. You're already on my bed. What kind of heartless monster denies a sleepover to the person whose mind they've been lurking in like some psychic perv?"
"…'Violated' is still a strong word."
Makoto threw a pillow at him. "Sleepover!"
"I need to tell my mom."
"Fine," Makoto huffed, flopping dramatically back into the pillows. "Let her know you're abandoning a traumatized, emotionally fragile boy in the aftermath of psychic revelations and possible naked sightings—"
Before he could finish the sentence, Saiki closed his eyes and opened the telepathic link.
[Mom.]
Kusuo!! Hi sweetie! Are you okay? Did Makoto break your heart?? Should I bring snacks?? Do you need a hug?!
[I'm staying over at his place.]
OH MY GOD A SLEEPOVER!!! WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND!!!
[Mom—]
Are you bringing protection?! Not that I want grandkids yet, but pink-haired babies with Makoto's blue eyes would be SO—
[Mom. I'm just sleeping over.]
That's what I said at your age. And then your brother happened.
Saiki cut the connection with the mental equivalent of slamming a door.
When he opened his eyes, Makoto was staring at him, eyebrow raised. "You good?"
"…My mother is aggressively supportive."
Makoto snorted. "Bet she ships us harder than I do."
"She said our hypothetical child would have pink hair and blue eyes."
Makoto made a sound somewhere between a gasp, a choke, and a delighted giggle. "That's so specific. Wait—pink-haired babies?! Kusuo, your mom wants grandchildren?!"
"Apparently."
Makoto beamed. "She already loves me, and I haven't even offered her coffee jelly yet."
"You've already made me coffee jelly. Twice."
"And you liked it."
Saiki looked away. "It was… decent."
Makoto grinned. "Kusuo. You finished the whole thing both times and then didn't speak for ten minutes."
"…It was good."
"Boom. Domestic bliss. Confirmed."
Makoto leaned in with a mischievous spark in his eyes. "You should teach me your version. So I can woo you properly. Like a househusband in training."
Saiki gave him a long, blank stare.
Makoto only wiggled his brows. "C'mon. We've already emotionally undressed. Why not bond over desserts and name our hypothetical psychic children?"
Saiki pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "You're the most exhausting person I've ever met."
"But you're not leaving."
Saiki sighed and finally, finally set his bag on the floor. "No. I'm not."
Makoto squealed and tackled him into a hug that was only half for show. "Best. Day. Ever."
Saiki's inner monologue, ever suffering:
God help me, I can't believe I agreed
Later—lights dimmed, snacks raided, blankets and pillows conquered—Makoto had set up a projector against the far wall and was scrolling through movie options while dramatically judging every title.
"No, no, ew, no—ugh, that one made me cry for six hours. I can't emotionally survive that again."
Saiki sat cross-legged beside him, trying not to radiate regret. "Just pick something."
Makoto gasped. "You're so emotionally repressed. What if I need the perfect ambiance to cope with the psychic trauma you inflicted upon me?"
"I gave you mild whiplash. Once."
"And read my thoughts!"
"I'm still recovering."
Makoto rolled onto his back like a dying Victorian maiden. "You're lucky you're cute."
Saiki didn't dignify that with a response, but his eyebrow twitched.
Eventually, Makoto picked a cheesy supernatural romcom, claiming "it's on theme." Twenty minutes in, the protagonists were already arguing in a graveyard, and Makoto was leaning on Saiki's shoulder like it was a moral obligation.
"Kusuo."
"No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You were going to ask about the psychic gene and hypothetical inheritance patterns."
Makoto looked scandalized. "You really are a psychic."
Saiki side-eyed him. "Are you sure you're not one?"
Makoto grinned. "I've been exposed to radiation. Maybe I'm mutating."
"That's not how any of this works."
"Okay but hear me out," Makoto whispered, flopping onto his stomach with his chin on Saiki's arm, "if we had kids—psychic kids—what would we name them?"
Saiki blinked. "We're watching a movie."
Makoto beamed. "Exactly! Perfect background noise for co-parenting discussions."
Saiki sighed, visibly. "I'm not doing this."
Makoto completely ignored him. "We should pick something meaningful. Like… Masuo. M-A from Makoto, S-U-O from Kusuo."
Saiki groaned into his hands. "Please stop."
Makoto rolled over dramatically and clutched a couch pillow. "Or—or! Suoto! Kusuo plus Makoto again but, like, spicy!"
"That's not how naming works."
Makoto pointed a finger at him. "Then what would you name our psychic child?"
"I wouldn't. Because we're not having one."
Makoto gasped like he'd been betrayed. "You don't even want imaginary kids with me?!"
Saiki deadpanned. "I didn't ask for imaginary kids. I didn't even ask to be here."
"And yet here you are. Tucked under my blanket, watching a romcom, hypothetically parenting."
"You kidnapped me with emotional blackmail."
Makoto smiled. "And snacks."
"…The snacks helped."
"Exactly! I'm husband material."
Saiki leaned back and stared at the ceiling like it might deliver divine intervention. "God, if you're listening, now would be a great time to drop a meteor."
Makoto cuddled closer. "If we had a girl, we could name her Suko. Or Makosuo. Makoto, Jr.?"
"We're not naming a child Makoto, Jr.."
"Why not? She'd be gorgeous. Imagine: my looks, your tragic psychic issues. She'd rule the world."
"She'd need therapy."
Makoto patted his arm. "I can pay for it."
Saiki resisted the urge to melt into the floor. "This is worse than when Nendou tried to name a dog after me."
"That dog would've been cute."
"That dog almost got hit by a truck."
Makoto giggled, curled up against his side, and whispered conspiratorially, "If we have twins, can we give them matching outfits?"
"Makoto."
"Too far?"
"Way too far."
Makoto only grinned wider. "So that's a yes on one baby."
Saiki pulled the blanket over his face. "I need noise-canceling powers."
Makoto reached under the blanket, poked his cheek, and whispered, "Suoto's gonna have your hair."
Saiki didn't respond.
Makoto poked him again. "And my flair."
A long silence.
"…Kusuo?"
Saiki exhaled, voice muffled under the blanket. "I'm never having a sleepover with you again."
Makoto gasped, loud and dramatic. "HOW DARE YOU."
But even as he feigned outrage, Makoto was already rattling off more baby name ideas, like he was pitching to a studio exec.
"—and if it's a winter baby we could name them Toki! Or something celestial, like Tsuki. Imagine little psychic star babies—oh! Or we could just name them reinou!"
Saiki blinked. "That just means psychic."
Makoto waved him off. "Yeah, but it sounds cool! And deep. Mysterious. Like their dad."
"Makoto."
"Kusuo."
"We're both boys."
Makoto blinked innocently. "So?"
"So we can't—biologically—have children."
There was a beat.
Makoto turned his gaze upward and mumbled mentally: System, is there no mpreg in this world?
[System: No. This world is governed by standard biological parameters. Male pregnancy is currently unavailable.]
Makoto pouted. Lame. But wait—if Kusuo's such a powerful psychic, can't he, like… manifest it? Rewire the laws of nature or something?
The system buzzed again. [System: yes, it's possible he did rewrite the entire world when he was a child.]
Makoto sat up with a grin like he'd just discovered electricity. "Kusuo."
"No."
"You didn't even let me say anything."
"You were going to ask if I could rewrite the universe so you could get me pregnant."
Makoto clapped his hands. "I knew you were reading my thoughts! That's cheating!"
"I don't need to read your thoughts to know you're insane."
Makoto leaned forward, wide-eyed. "But theoretically… could you?"
"…Could I what?"
"Make mpreg real."
Saiki stared at him, unblinking. "I'm not dignifying that with an answer."
"But Kusuo," Makoto whined, arms flailing, "think about it! We'd be pioneers. History-makers. Our psychic children would have two dads and one of them gave birth in defiance of science and society!"
"Makoto."
"Suoto Kusuo Saiki-Teruhashi deserves to exist."
"Stop giving them surnames!"
Makoto dramatically clutched the blanket to his chest. "I'm just saying, it's the modern world. We have AI girlfriends and flying Roombas, but no mpreg?!"
Saiki gave him the deadliest look he could muster. "I can turn into a girl, you know."
Makoto paused. "...Wait, what?"
"Gender-swap is one of my psychic abilities."
Makoto blinked, stunned.
Then he whispered, "That changes everything."
"No. It doesn't."
Makoto gasped, pointing with newfound purpose. "You could be the one to carry the child."
"I'm not having this conversation."
Makoto flopped onto his back, grinning at the ceiling like he'd just cracked the code of the universe. "This sleepover is so productive."
Saiki resisted the urge to set himself on fire. "I'm calling a meteor. Right now."
Makoto grabbed his arm and beamed. "I'll help raise them. I can make coffee jelly and everything."
Saiki sighed into his soul.
Why me.
The movie finally ended, the credits rolling quietly against the soft glow of the projector.
Saiki stretched and rubbed his eyes. "I'm tired. Where do you want me to sleep?"
Makoto's eyes shot open wide, like Saiki had just declared he was moving out. "What do you mean, 'where'? We're sleeping together, obviously!"
Saiki raised an eyebrow, voice flat but with that unmistakable deadpan edge. "That's… kind of dangerous, considering you were just planning our psychic children a few minutes ago."
Makoto flopped back onto the bed, pouting dramatically. "I promise—no funny business. Just cuddles. Pure, innocent cuddles."
Saiki sighed, but didn't move away.
Makoto scooted closer, resting his head on Saiki's shoulder. "See? Perfectly innocent."
Saiki's expression softened just a bit. "You're really something else."
Makoto smiled against his skin. "So, about those kids… You think they'd get your psychic abilities? Or maybe my flair?"
Saiki shook his head lightly, but the tension in his shoulders eased. "They'd definitely need a lot of therapy."
Makoto chuckled quietly. "I'll pay for it."
Silence settled comfortably between them, broken only by the faint hum of the projector and their slow, steady breaths.
"Hey Kusuo?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you stayed."
Saiki's lips twitched into a rare, small smile. "Me too."