If you're looking for kitanishi prompts, how about Natsume thought they were dating and gets worried he's wrong because he thinks he can't understand social cues. Cue kitsnishi pairing realizing they kind of were dating lol
It starts with an invitation.
One of Satoru’s classmates at cram school invites him to go out with her and a few of her friends over the coming weekend—and since some of them would have dates with them, he’s more than welcome to bring his girlfriend along!
Satoru doesn’t have a girlfriend. Satoru is terminally single.
He could cancel, but he wants to go. He could show up alone, but that would be all kinds of awkward—especially if he was the odd man out, especially if they were expecting him to have a date.
So he puts his brilliant mind to work in coming up with a solution.
“Natsumeee, what do I do?” Satoru is sprawled piteously across Natsume’s desk. “I need your advice, man.”
“Go by yourself?”
“Natsume! I need better advice!”
Natsume eyes the book he was reading, trapped under Satoru’s arms, and visibly gives up on the idea of extracting it before the idea can even half form in his eyes. Instead he sighs and leans back in his chair, accepting Satoru’s dilemma as his own. They’ve come a long way as friends.
“Honestly, Nishimura, why ask me?” the heartthrob of year two asks obliviously, pushing dusty blond hair out of his eyes. “I have literally no experience when it comes to this. I’ve never been on a date.”
Satoru narrows his eyes at him. Somehow it’s even more annoying that Natsume is so sincerely clueless about how stupidly popular he is. Satoru has no idea how to verbalize this, so he settles for glaring quietly.
“Besides,” Natsume adds, unmoved by Satoru’s expression, “I figured you’d just go with Kitamoto.”
Satoru sits up slowly, staring. “Uh. Why would I go with Kitamoto?”
Natsume looks uncertainly back at him. “Because you’re dating him?”
There’s an impasse of stark misunderstanding opening between them like a yawning chasm, and Natsume visibly retreats back into his little socially awkward shell like some kind of giant skittish hermit crab. Satoru watches him go, totally bemused.
His face is red, hands tangled anxiously together in his lap, eye contact a thing of the past.
“I just assumed—I’m so sorry—”
“Dude, it’s okay, I just—have no idea where that came from?”
“I’m really, really sorry—”
“Natsume, seriously. Stop apologizing or Tsuji’s gonna think I’m bullying you—oh, great, here he comes now.”
Satoru leans back in his chair when Tsuji stops by the desk, and watches Natsume’s face as the pale boy hurriedly assures their class rep that all’s well. Natsume was wrong, obviously, but it’s not like Satoru's mad about it. Natsume doesn’t have much experience in being sociable or having friends (which is an ugly thought, and Satoru hates that it’s true) so it makes sense that he sort of read the cues wrong. It’s no big deal, not even worth thinking about.
But he’s thinking about it. Tuning out the conversation going on right beside him and staring without seeing out the window.
Thinking about what cues Natsume read, and how he possibly could have read them wrong.
“You’re not wrong,” Tsuji is saying calmly, in stark defiance of Satoru’s innermost thoughts. He tunes back into the conversation sharply, watching Tsuji pat Natsume’s shoulder comfortingly. “You picked up on the same cues everyone else did.”
“Wait, what?” Satoru sits up straight, more than a little gobsmacked, and stares at Tsuji, who stares right back. Natsume is a shade of pink Satoru has never seen on him before, but it doesn’t look like he’s about to die of humiliation or try to crawl under a rock or something. Compared to the Natsume they started with, this is progress.
“Nishimura, come on,” Tsuji says. “It’s obvious.”
Outraged, Satoru squawks, “No it’s not! What are we even talking about!”
Tsuji gives him literally the dryest look ever. Honestly, Satoru has seen his own mother look more enthusiastic than Tsuji does right now. He’d be impressed, if he wasn’t so busy being offended.
“You, my friend,” Tsuji says kindly, even leaning over to put a caring hand on Satoru’s arm, “are an idiot.”