Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

As he settled back onto the bed, he watched her fuss over her food. He needed to break the ice again, but he knew he couldn't just dive back into their earlier banter—he needed a different approach.

"Hey," Don began, keeping his tone casual, "do you want to watch something or maybe play some music while we eat?" He wasn't particularly interested in either, but he figured it might be a good way to learn more about her tastes. After all, if talking wasn't going to get her to open up, maybe her music or show preferences would give him some insight.

Summer paused, folk and knife hovering above her plate as she considered his suggestion. "What kind of music do you want?" she asked, her voice lacking the earlier edge.

Don shrugged, trying to appear as laid-back as possible. "I'm not picky. Why don't you choose? I trust your taste doesn't suck."

Summer shot him a suspicious look, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied his expression. "Are you making fun of me again?" she asked, crossing her arms defensively. "Because if you are, don't think I won't punch you again."

Don held up his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Hey, I'm serious. I just want to try something new. I'm sure whatever you pick will be great."

Summer hesitated, clearly not entirely convinced, but after a moment she rolled her eyes and relented. "Fine, but don't blame me if you don't like it. You're probably just saying that because you know my taste is better than yours."

"That's exactly it," Don replied smoothly, though internally he was relieved she hadn't called his bluff. The truth was, even though he had a general idea of what was popular in this world, he couldn't risk picking something she disliked and blowing his cover. Better to let her take the lead.

Summer gave him one last suspicious look before turning away to grab her phone from the nightstand. Don watched as she tapped the screen a few times. After a moment, the soft strains of a song began to fill the room, the melody light and airy, with a catchy beat that immediately had Don tapping his foot in time.

Summer set her phone down on the bed beside her and glanced over at Don, gauging his reaction. "Not bad," he said, nodding along with the music. "What is this?"

"Just some pop music," Summer replied with a shrug, though there was a hint of pride in her voice. "It's one of my favorite bands. They're pretty popular right now."

"Well, I can see why," Don said honestly. The song was upbeat and catchy, the kind of music that was hard to dislike, even if it wasn't his usual taste. It seemed Summer had good instincts after all.

After they had settled into a more relaxed atmosphere, Don glanced around the room, trying to figure out the best spot for them to sit and enjoy their meal. "So, where should we sit?" he asked, genuinely curious about what Summer preferred.

Summer didn't hesitate. "The floor," she replied, as if it were the most obvious choice.

Don raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "The floor? Really? What, do you think I'm going to spill sauce and crumbs everywhere or something?"

Summer crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look. "Yes, actually. You were always a messy eater, Donnie. Better safe than sorry."

"Come on, I've grown since then," Don protested, though he couldn't help but chuckle. "Isn't it a bit unfair to assume I haven't improved?"

"Better safe than sorry," Summer repeated, but with a smirk that made it clear she wasn't budging.

Resigning himself to her decision, Don watched as Summer gracefully sat down on the floor, using the frame of her bed as a backrest. She looked at ease, like this was something she did often.

With a small shrug, Don joined her, though he left a bit of space between them, giving her room to breathe.

No sooner had he settled down than Summer held out her hand, her expression expectant. "Hand over the sauce."

Don couldn't resist messing with her a little. "I'll put some on your plate for you," he offered, grabbing the bottle. "I don't trust you not to drown your food in it."

Summer rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his reasoning. "You're so petty," she muttered, but she didn't argue, letting him pour the sauce onto her plate.

After he was done, Don added a generous amount to his own plate before setting the bottle aside. They both began eating in silence, the sound of soft music still playing in the background. As Summer took her first bite, her eyes widened in delight.

"Oh my gosh, this is amazing!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with euphoria.

Don couldn't help but smile as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She looked incredibly wholesome in that moment, her usually guarded demeanor replaced by genuine happiness. For a second, he forgot to eat, just distracted by the sight of her enjoying herself.

But then Summer noticed him looking and paused, a piece of chicken still halfway to her mouth. "What are you staring at?" she asked, her voice muffled by the food she had already bitten into.

Don, never one to pass up an opportunity for some light teasing, smirked. "Oh, nothing. Just observing how a sophisticated girl eats."

Summer's eyes narrowed, and before Don could react, she punched his shoulder—though not too hard. "You're still such a jerk," she muttered, but there was no real heat behind her words.

Don pretended to be hurt, clutching his shoulder with an exaggerated wince. "Ow! I'm telling mom."

"Yeah, right, you big baby" Summer scoffed, not buying his act for a second.

Seeing this as a perfect opportunity to escalate their playful banter into something more physical, Don decided to take a risk. Without warning, he reached over and pinched her exposed thigh just above her knee.

Summer yelped in surprise, dropping her piece of chicken onto her plate. She glared at Don, her cheeks flushing slightly as she rubbed the spot he had pinched. "Look what you did!" she protested, clearly more annoyed by the chicken falling than any actual pain.

Don, feeling particularly cheeky, reached over and picked up the fallen piece of chicken. "Still good," he said with a grin before taking a bite.

"Hey!" Summer's voice was filled with indignation as she stared at him in disbelief. "That was mine! Give me one of your pieces to make up for it."

"Nope," Don replied, enjoying the taste of the chicken and the sauce as he licked his fingers.

The words were barely out of his mouth when Summer tackled him, her body crashing into his with unexpected force. The impact sent them both sprawling onto the floor, their plates clattering to the side as they wrestled for dominance.

Don was momentarily caught off guard by her sudden aggression, but he quickly recovered, grabbing hold of her wrists to try and keep her from pinching him back. They rolled together, the plush carpet cushioning their fall as they fought for control.

Despite the roughhousing, Don couldn't help but notice the intimacy of their position. Summer was practically lying on top of him, her face just inches from his, her breath coming in short, angry bursts.

Her hair, which had been neatly in place earlier, now fell around them like a curtain, creating a small, private space where it was just the two of them.

But Summer, too focused on her goal of getting one of Don's pieces of chicken, seemed completely oblivious to the closeness of their situation. "You're such a thief!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and determination. "Give it back!"

Don grinned, knowing full well he wasn't going to make it easy for her. "You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands," he teased, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Summer narrowed her eyes, clearly up for the challenge. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth as she wiggled her wrists free from his grasp and lunged for his plate.

But Don was quicker. He used their tangled position to his advantage, rolling them both over so that he was the one pinning her to the floor this time. Summer let out a small gasp of surprise as her back hit the carpet, but she quickly regained her composure, glaring up at him with fierce determination.

"Not so fast," Don said, his voice low as he held her wrists above her head, making it impossible for her to reach the plate.

For a moment, they were both still, their playful wrestling match giving way to a short silence. Don could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his, the warmth of her body seeping through their clothes.

But then Summer, ever the fighter, broke the silence with a sharp kick to his shin. "Ow!" Don exclaimed, momentarily losing his grip on her wrists as he recoiled from the pain.

Summer took advantage of his distraction, freeing her hands and pushing him off her with a grunt of effort. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing the nearest piece of chicken from his plate and holding it up triumphantly.

"Ha!" she declared, her voice filled with victory. "Serves you right!"

Don couldn't help but laugh as he rolled onto his back, looking up at her with amusement. "Alright, alright, you win," he conceded, having achieved his goal and no longer wanting to fight over a piece of meat.

Summer, now standing over him with her prize in hand, finally seemed to notice the intimate position they had been in just moments before. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she quickly looked away, pretending to inspect the piece of chicken she had claimed.

"Uh… right," she muttered, clearly flustered. "Better eat this before you try to steal it again."

Don grinned as he sat up, rubbing his shin where she had kicked him. "You're lucky I'm too sore to retaliate," he joked, though in truth, he was more than happy to let her have this victory. He knew that in the grand scheme of things, it was the better option.

Summer gave him a half-hearted glare before sitting back down, her earlier bravado now replaced with a slightly embarrassed expression. "Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, still avoiding his gaze.

They both resumed eating, though the atmosphere had shifted once again. The earlier playfulness had given way to a more subdued, almost awkward silence.

Don could tell Summer was still processing what had just happened, and he decided to give her some space, focusing on his food instead. But inwardly, he was already thinking of other ways to engage with her.