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A. first kiss
Izuku presses his hand to Shouto's chest, steadying himself in a world that's spinning too fast. Shouto peers down at him with his ever sharp eyes and with hair falling down into his face, and Izuku rolls onto the tips of his toes to seal their lips together.
Shouto is receptive, as he is with everything. They move together, lips against lips and Shouto's hands trailing down Izuku's sides, noses bumping and Izuku's arms thrown around Shouto's neck. It's warm and soft, how they kiss, almost careful and tentative.
But then Shouto opens his mouth against Izuku's, and Izuku lets out a surprised squeak, causing Shouto to pull away slowly.
"Too fast?" he questions, head tilted curiously.
Izuku flushes from his the tips of his ears and down, but shakes his head. "I just didn't expect it," he explains, his arms still around Shouto's neck, biceps resting on Shouto's shoulders. They're still so close. "Can we..." he trails off, embarrassed, and clears his throat before he asks, "Can we try again?"
Shouto lets out an amused huff, and Izuku feels the warm breath hit his face before Shouto murmurs, "Sure."
Their lips connect again, this time easier, wetter, and Izuku feels hot, hot, hot. His fingers glide up to tangle in the hair at the base of Shouto's neck.
After this, Izuku doesn't think he'll ever tire of kissing Shouto.
E. first roller coaster
"I don't know about this, Midoriya." Shouto cranes his neck to look up at the roller coaster that towers over them, his hand raised to block his eyes from the sun.
"It's fun, I promise," Izuku stresses, grabbing hold of Shouto's hand and tugging him towards the entrance gate. Shouto staggers after him, gaze still locked on the initial hill of the coaster for a moment before he looks down at how Izuku's dragging him.
"You've done things a million times more scary than this," Izuku assures once they reach the end of the line, and Shouto looks skeptically at him. "I promise!" he insists.
Shouto lets out a sigh, eyes trailing again upwards. A full train of people reach the highest point of the roller coaster, and it sits for a moment at the top before shooting downwards. People scream and it's impossible for Shouto to discern whether it's out of joy or fear.
But Shouto's not usually one to say no to Izuku, and Izuku does have a point—a roller coaster can't be much more scary than a bloodthirsty villain, at the end of the day—so Shouto stays in line beside him as they trudge slowly up to the loading dock.
And once they reach it, Shouto begrudgingly steps into a car beside Izuku, clicking his buckle and pulling down his lap bar. Izuku grins beside him as the intercom tells them to keep their heads pressed to the headrest, and Shouto arches an eyebrow at him.
The train jerks suddenly forward and they begin their climb up the incline. Izuku excitedly drums his hands on his lap bar, and Shouto pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks downward, the ground inching further away by the second.
"Hey," Izuku says, and Shouto looks to him. He's holding out his hand between them. "You can hold it?" he suggests, and Shouto swallows his pride with another glance towards the ground, reaching over to clasp Izuku's hand in his own.
They reach the top, and there's a moment of silent anticipation before the train starts over the hill and suddenly they're flying downwards.
Izuku screams—this, Shouto can discern, is out of joy—but Shouto's grip on Izuku's hand just tightens, as does his grip on his lap bar with his other hand. His toes curl in his shoes and his hair whips out of his face, and he wonders how something like this can fill him with as much momentary adrenaline as a villain confrontation does.
And then the fall is over, and they're quickly climbing a second incline. Izuku turns his head to beam at Shouto and Shouto stares at him, at how his hair's fluffy and windblown and his eyes bright.
"Fun, right?" Izuku asks, and before Shouto gets the chance to answer, they're falling again.
That's all it is, Shouto finds out. Climbing and falling, climbing and falling. He can stand it, but he's not sure he could love it like Izuku does. Though it is a very valid excuse to hold Izuku's hand.
(Not that he really needs an excuse.)
I. first gala
Endeavor hosts an annual gala, and of course Shouto is meant to attend. He's told Izuku about all the galas he's been forced to go to throughout his life, how he's been poked at and prodded by strangers, how he's hid himself in the bathroom for hours on end just to avoid hearing his father talk about him. It makes Izuku's chest hurt.
But Shouto hasn't gone to one of his father's galas since he's been at UA, though this time is different. It's the final gala before they graduate, and even if Endeavor hosts them, Shouto says the publicity is good for their careers. Izuku almost argues against Shouto's decision, but then Shouto invites him along.
("I don't want to go if you're not there with me," he'd said, "And anyway, we can ignore my father the whole night. It won't be that hard.")
So now Izuku stands outside of a dance hall, Shouto's hand resting on the small of his back. He pulls anxiously at his collar, slightly loosens the tie that Shouto had tied for him with a sheepish grin tossed in Shouto's direction.
"Don't be so nervous," Shouto says, stroking up Izuku's back and then down again. "Most of the people in here will have no idea what they're doing, either."
Izuku lets out a sigh. "When you put it that way..." he trails, a nervous chuckle tacked on the end.
"I'm serious. Just... stick by me, don't yell, and don't spill on yourself, and you'll be fine," Shouto assures, and Izuku makes a note not to hold anything he could spill on himself. Then, Shouto takes the first step forward into the ballroom. Izuku follows, focusing on the weight of Shouto's hand on his back rather than on the eyes of other guests glued on them as they walk in.
Of course, many people want to talk to them. A lot has happened since they've entered UA, and just at the brink of graduation, one hot topic is that of future plans and sidekick opportunities.
Shouto is experienced here, and he does most of the talking. He says things without actually telling anything, and no one seems to notice. Izuku almost feels like some sort of trophy, trailing behind Shouto and looking pretty in his dark blue suit. But he's not—he's not some sort of prize; Shouto is sure to insist this to him in low mutters against his ear.
Endeavor does attempt approaching once, but Shouto sweeps Izuku off onto the dance floor before he can catch them, and they're caught in a current of people, Shouto's arms sturdy around Izuku's waist as they sway with the crowd of dancers. Endeavor fumes a little ways away, and Izuku just barely resists flipping him off in case the press here would catch it.
When Izuku tells Shouto this later, they're leaning against each other just behind Shouto dorm room door, and Shouto laughs before he leans down to press a kiss to Izuku's lips.
O. first "i love you"
Shouto has never been good with words. He can fake his way around them, he can act like he knows what he's doing, but when it really comes down to it, he can't express his feelings half as well as he'd like to.
He'd like to tell Izuku what he means to him, but it's impossible to string together the right words. It's impossible, Shouto feels, to pack as much feeling as he has into any number of words.
He used to have an aversion to the word "love." The only person who had ever said I love you to him poured boiling water on his face when he was five, and until he was sixteen, he hadn't heard her voice again. Until he was sixteen, he'd never had those words spoken to him again.
But Izuku—Izuku is so free with the word. (The three words, actually.) He says them to Shouto in the morning, when they meet up to get coffee before going to work, and he says them at night, attached to the end of a good night text. He says them when Shouto surprises him with lunch on his off days, and he says them over the phone when they've been apart for too long.
I love you.
Izuku isn't bothered by the fact Shouto has never said it back, or at least he insists that he isn't bothered. Shouto had explained his aversion to the words to Izuku, and he'd understood—of course he had; Shouto can't think of a time where Izuku didn't understand.
It takes time. Everything with Shouto takes time. He wishes, sometimes, that he were like Izuku, that he could dive head first into anything thrown at him. But he can't. Hero work is different, and Shouto's judgement skills are quick. He can deflect a bullet with a moment's notice, but it's been three years, now, and Shouto's never been able to tell Izuku that he loves him.
But Izuku chipped at Shouto's aversion to the word "love" until it was nothing but rubble lying at their feet, and now, now, he's wide open.
Shouto knows that Izuku knows he loves him, without him even having to say it. But it's the principle of the thing.
So, one morning when Izuku wakes in Shouto's bed, whining a little at the sunlight that shines in his face, Shouto says the words for the first time in his life, and Izuku blooms before his eyes.
U. first home away from home
Izuku's lived in other places besides his childhood home before—the UA dorms, that shitty apartment he rented alone for awhile before he moved into a different shitty apartment alone—but none of them have ever truly felt like a home. They were houses, sure—or a dorm room, in one case—but regardless, they were temporary shelters that Izuku slept in, and otherwise, he didn't spend much time there at all.
This new apartment is nice, if a bit small. There's one bedroom and one bathroom, and there's a kitchen that's attached to the living room. It's all empty now, save for some of the boxes already hauled up from the moving van and set out in the living room.
Izuku casts a glance out of the window—the apartment is on the second story, with another apartment below it—at the moving van parked on the road. He sighs, taking a swig from the water bottle he'd just taken out of the cooler that sits in the kitchen before he wipes the back of his hand against his forehead.
He should get back down there, pick up a few more boxes to haul up the stairs, but it's so hot outside. It's hot outside and the apartment doesn't have air conditioning yet, so it's hot inside, too. Izuku gives into wilting over the countertop, his forearms and head pressing against the cool marble.
This place, Izuku thinks, once they're settled in, might feel like a home. Every door here is made out of a different type of wood, and the flooring looks like it's endured far past its life's worth of treading. The people who had lived here last left hideous drapes behind—they're green and yellow with orange polka dots—but Shouto had said that he liked them, so here they'll stay.
Izuku lifts his head from the counter when he hears the footsteps on the staircase. Shouto hauls yet another box in through the door, his t shirt sleeves rolled up and sweat dripping down the side of his face, and he offers Izuku an exhausted smile. Izuku smiles back and thinks that yeah, this place will definitely feel like home.
(Any place with Shouto would feel like home.)