Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shouto jolted awake when his pencil rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor. He peeled his forehead off of his notebook and frowned when a bright sticky note clung to the lenses of his crooked glasses. He carefully picked it off with two fingers and narrowed his eyes at the scratchy writing, not recognizing his own penmanship. Something about corrosion? Or corruption? Maybe correlation. He dropped the note and pushed his glasses up to press the heels of his hands into his eyes, releasing a sigh he felt with his entire body.

Tea. He needed tea. Or coffee. Whichever he could find and make faster. But that meant he would have to drag himself out of his room and downstairs where the possibility of meeting one of his classmates was very high. He wasn’t sure he could handle any amount of social interaction right now with his brain feeling like mush. He lifted his head to check the time and sighed again, the glowing 15:35PM glaring back at him and making his eyes water a little. He reached out to turn on his lamp and that eased the glare a little.

The additional light also illuminated the disaster his desk had become in the past week. The notebook he had dozed off on wasn’t alone, a stack of similar ones sitting next to it. The two textbooks he had been perusing before his spontaneous nap were spread open as well, scattered with colorful sticky notes and tabs like the one that had accosted his face. Other pieces of paper were littered in random places on the desk, tucked under each other and overlapping, making it near impossible to figure out what was what just by looking. Shouto spied one math worksheet with the scribbling of what looked like chemistry problems in the margins and basic English conjugations squeezed in at the top.

He dragged his hands over his cheeks, closing his eyes to try and block out the clutter, and decided his brain was too over-saturated to fix the mess right now. Tea or coffee. One goal at a time.

Shouto shoved himself away from his desk and stumbled to his feet, wincing when his knees ached in protest. He had enough brain power left to make sure he was decent in appearance, adjusting his sweatpants on his hips and dragging an old All Might hoodie over his head so no one would see the sweat stains on the t-shirt underneath. The hoodie wasn’t much better - the sleeves dotted with the occasional burn hole and the neckline torn - but it didn’t have stains on it which he considered good enough. And he knew it was the cleanest thing in his room at the moment, the full laundry hamper in the corner going fully ignored for the -nth time as he stepped out into the hall.

Satou and Sero’s rooms were both quiet as he walked to the elevator. He guessed they were either downstairs or wallowing in their own personal hell’s of note-taking and cramping hands not so unlike the one he had just left. Shouto pressed the button to summon the elevator and tucked his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie while he waited, pushing the tip of one finger through another burn hole. Their final written exams were nearly over now, but they had been a fresh kind of brutal that no one had been spared from. Even Iida had been seen holed up in the library with stacks upon stacks of books around him, his furious note-taking aggressive enough to make other students give him a wide berth. Momo had held several study groups in preparation and Shouto had passed by said groups seated at the tables in the dorm lounge numerous times, endless amounts of notebooks, stacks of note cards, highlighters and pens and various other note-taking materials scattered around them. It was like a war zone of office supplies. Shouto had seen everyone at one of the groups at least once, himself not excluded, and it struck him now how it had practically become a tradition for their class. Every time a major test or group of tests came around, Momo could be relied on to announce a study group for anyone that needed the extra help and that group would always find itself in the lounge at some point or another.

Shouto stepped into the elevator when the doors finally opened for him, pressing the first floor button and watching the doors slide shut before the elevator lurched into movement. He wondered briefly if he would come across a last minute group when he got down there, but he doubted it. Momo had texted him earlier about how exhausted she was - “My brain is melting as we speak” - and he would bet she was either passed out in her room or Jirou’s. A few of them had tried holding groups without her, but everyone knew it just wasn’t the same without Momo at the head.

He idly picked at his fingernails as the elevator moved down, resisting the itch under his skin that prodded him to pick at his face instead. He refused to look at his reflection in the mirrors that lined the elevator walls, knowing exactly how his own ’I-haven’t-showered-in-five-days-haven’t-slept-in-six’ appearance looked. It wasn’t a new one, after all. His only comfort was he knew he wasn’t the only one in class who had reached their lowest levels of personal hygiene because of the life finals had sucked out of them.

He really should do laundry though. His room was starting to smell… bad.

The elevator came to a halt and Shouto stepped out as the doors parted again. His self-restraint cracked as he walked to the kitchen, one hand inching up to his cheek and hovering over his most recent outbreak of annoying, itchy acne. Despite Kirishima’s - and his fellow classmates - claim that he held the title of class ‘pretty boy,’ he certainly hadn’t felt like it in the past few weeks. Where most of his classmates had already passed through their worst acne phases, he seemed to be just starting his own. His first bad breakout he had chalked up to a one-off thing, just his hormones firing up a little, but then it had happened again. And again, and again, until finals rolled around and he still hadn’t cleared his face of all the little red bumps and pimpled whiteheads and the stress of classes brought a fresh wave of gross, oily skin. Shouto hadn’t cared much about his appearance for the longest time, too caught up in things like leagues of villains and keeping his friends alive, but now that their lives weren’t constantly being threatened, the mundane things started to be more relevant again. Unfortunately, that meant with each new pimple he spotted in the bathroom mirror, his self-consciousness spiked more and more because now he had the head space to worry about that sort of thing. No one had said anything, but he knew it was just common courtesy because it was impossible not to see it.

His self-restraint buckled some more and he was seconds away from giving in and just itching the dry spot on his cheek when he heard a cheery voice call out his name. Shouto turned and just barely stopped himself from recoiling in horror.

Uraraka was walking towards him, dressed in fuzzy pajama pants and a tank top, but he hardly recognized her. Her hair was pulled back in a short tail, bangs held back with hair clips, and pasted across her face was a mask of what looked like black mud. As she stopped in front of him she smiled, the mask shifting with her face, and it only unnerved Shouto further.

“What’s on your face?” he asked immediately, staring at her.

“Oh, this?” Uraraka almost touched her cheek, stopping her hand before it came in contact as if she just remembered what was all over her skin. “It’s a face mask. The girls and I wanted to relax after studying all day.”

Shouto looked past her for a moment and he did see the other girls seated at the couches in front of the TV, all of them with similar masks of goop. He looked back down to Uraraka and raised one eyebrow.

“By pasting mud all over your faces?”

She laughed, undeterred by his incredulous tone. “It’s not mud! It’s a combination of different things, I don’t know exactly, but it helps clean your pores and draws all the gross stuff in your skin to the surface. It’s actually really good for acne and it makes your skin all soft.”

Shouto realized belatedly that his own hand was still hovering over his cheek and quickly dropped it, face warming a little. Uraraka’s eyes flashed with sympathy and she held out her hand to him.

“Do you want to join us?” she offered kindly. “We have tea and snacks. We were going to watch a movie or two after we washed our faces.”

Shouto blinked, surprised by the offer, and looked up again to where the other girls were still chatting with each other. Momo was there leaned up against Jirou on one of the couches, obviously not suffering from any undue brain melting, and Ashido was gesturing enthusiastically as she told some story, almost hitting Asui in the face a few times where they were seated on the opposite sofa. He could see the slightly disturbing outline of Hagakure’s face floating with them as well. There wasn’t a single textbook or page of notes in sight, not even a pen.

While he had come a long way in terms of building relationships with his fellow classmates, there was always a niggling worry in the back of his mind that made him hesitate when someone asked if he wanted to hang out. It made him feel dumbfounded for a few seconds whenever someone smiled at him. It made him struggle to smile back with the same amount of enthusiasm, normally just managing a shaky half-smile that he felt was inadequate but still had his classmates beaming all the same. It was this bothersome worry that made him shift under Uraraka’s gentle eyes, dragging his lower lip between his teeth while his eyes flicked between her and the rest of the group.

“I don’t know,” he demurred.

Uraraka rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist, making the decision for him as she started to pull him to the group. “You’re coming. You’re radiating stress so badly it’s making me want to have an anxiety attack just looking at you.”

Trying not to feel offended, he went along after her without resistance and was met with a chorus of delighted greetings. Momo eyed him with amusement but didn’t say anything as Uraraka ushered him into taking a seat on the couch. Momo was the one that took his glasses for him when Uraraka gestured for him to take them off, reaching for a small container on the table. She brandished it, smiling wide in a way that made her look almost demented with the face mask. Shouto had only a second to wonder what he was getting into before she unscrewed the top, revealing the black stuff that was covering all of their faces.

“First things first!” Uraraka said cheerily. “Tsu, hand me some hair clips, please.”

Shouto thought back to his messy desk and musty room and decided that this was far, far preferable.

The mask itched on his nose. Shouto wanted to scratch at it, but Uraraka kept tugging at his hair like she could read his mind, so he didn’t. The spot on his cheek didn’t itch though and he considered that a win.

It had been almost an hour since he had joined the girls and he was significantly more relaxed than he had been before. They were energetic and the conversation moved faster than he could keep up with, but it was a good kind of energy, one that he could absorb quietly and enjoy. The conversation was centered largely around school gossip and Shouto only half-listened to the words bouncing over his head. He only spoke up when someone talked to him first, content to listen more than participate, and mostly he focused on working his way through a pack of double-stuff Oreo’s with Momo’s - and Jirou’s - help. He passed them each an Oreo whenever Momo nudged his side with her socked foot. He had positioned himself on the floor twenty minutes ago when Uraraka had started messing with his hair, the clips not quite keeping the thin strands in place and making his fringe fall onto his forehead. He sat in front of her now, leaned up against her knees and letting her comb her fingers through his hair even though she had long since fixed the hair clips. His hair was a mess and he knew it was probably greasy, but she hadn’t said anything and he wasn’t about to ask her to stop. He felt eerily like a cat under her platonic affection, eyes half-lidded and a soft warmth pooling in his stomach.

They were all watching Ashido stack Oreo’s on Asui’s outstretched tongue and it was perhaps the slowest and most careful Shouto had ever seen her move. The little display had been spurred on by his own doing, however unintentional. He had been heating Oreo’s in the palm of his hand before eating them, just enough to let the white creme melt a little and have the cookies be warm. Hagakure had noticed him pausing before each cookie and asked what he was doing which had inevitably led to him passing out warmed Oreo’s for everyone to try. The general consensus had been that he was a genius. He knew he couldn’t be the first person to heat up an Oreo, but he had appreciated the compliments he had received all the same. That had led to them all trying to do little tricks with Oreo’s and thus to Asui and Ashido with their Oreo tower.

The tower reached the twelfth Oreo and Ashido cheered when Asui barely wobbled. Shouto pulled an Oreo out of his newly opened pack, requisitioned to his lap, and nibbled at the edge while he watched. Everything was a little blurry around the edges without his glasses, but he could still see well enough and he didn’t want the black mud - it was mud no matter what Uraraka said - on the frames, anyways. He could fall asleep right there, studying so far from his mind he could hardly imagine it. Uraraka’s fingers were gentle in his hair pushing strands this way and that, mindful of the hair clips, and Shouto wondered when the last time had been that someone had touched him like this. Mindless and affectionate, no hidden meaning behind it, just gentle and kind and with the only intent of relaxing him. He thought Uraraka might have started braiding it at one point, reminding him of quiet, stolen moments in small rooms where an even quieter older sister kept her aching younger brother sane by distracting him with the braids in her hair.

He was edging dangerously close to something like a doze, thinking of white hair with dashes of red and shaking hands with chubby, childlike fingers when a familiar name caught his attention.

“Deku-kun definitely has the best glow-up,” Hagakure was saying, gesturing with an Oreo. “I mean, have you seen his face? He’s lost so much baby fat!”

“Have you seen Sero’s hair though?” Uraraka pointed out from behind Shouto. “He looks so good with it long, I never would have guessed!”

Shouto had no clue how the conversation had shifted to their classmates and their appearances, but apparently that’s where they were now. All thoughts of braids fled from his mind, suddenly much more alert. He peeled apart an Oreo in his hands while he listened, trying not to seem too attentive now that he was paying attention.

“You cannot tell me his curls still aren’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen,” Hagakure sighed and Shouto could picture her pressing a hand to her cheek. “Sero does win the hair category though, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you, though I think Todoroki is a good contender, too.” Uraraka hummed and Shouto shivered pleasantly when she dragged her nails against his scalp. Hagakure made a noise of agreement, her face mask moving up and down in a frantic nod. “But you’re right, Deku has grown a lot, too. I’m still surprised he hit that growth spurt.”

“I know!” Ashido chimed in, pausing in her careful Oreo stacking. “He’s, like, as tall as Bakugo now, right?”

“Don’t say that to Bakugo,” Jirou mumbled, the others murmuring in agreement.

“I think he might be a little taller.” Momo mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully with one finger. “He is certainly broader now, and that makes him seem taller than he really is. What do you think, Shouto?”

Shouto startled, almost dropping the Oreo in his hand. “What?”

“I asked what you think about Midoriya-kun and how tall he is now.”

Shouto slowly lifted his eyes up to Momo and was met with her small, knowing smile that made his heart do a nervous flip in his chest. He cleared his throat and quietly said, “He’s grown a lot.”

“He certainly has,” Momo agreed, clearly amused.

“Have you seen him when he’s back from his morning runs?” Hagakure cut in, swinging her Oreo around for emphasis. “My heart can’t take that kind of image.”

Shouto’s relief of having Momo’s attention off of him was short lived as his mind helpfully supplied the image that Hagakure was referencing; and what an image it was. Midoriya was usually one of the first ones awake in the morning due to the fact that he went for a run every day. Shouto had learned that he was usually out by four in the morning and came back around six or seven depending on the day. He had also learned to adjust his sleep schedule so that he was always awake in time to shuffle down to the kitchen and see Midoriya when he returned, ready with a cup of tea for himself and a fresh bottle of water for Midoriya. If that meant he sometimes didn’t get more than a handful of hours or even minutes of sleep, then so be it. He wouldn’t sacrifice those early mornings for anything.

Midoriya would come in with his shirt sticking to his chest with sweat and still panting, cheeks flushed a warm pink that made his freckles blend together more than usual. He would use the edge of his shirt to wipe his face and while his vision was obscured Shouto would stare shamelessly at the sweat that clung to his abs, eyes roving over the sharp V of his hips that led down into his shorts. After dropping his shirt back down, Midoriya would grin brightly at him and take the water bottle that Shouto held out, chilled by his own quirk. He would crack open the lid with crooked fingers and tilt his head back as he swallowed half of it in one go, Adam’s apple bobbing with each mouthful. Shouto would watch over the top of his mug of tea, following the movement of Midoriya’s throat, and sometimes he would risk a glance down to the dip between his pectorals where the sweat had gathered while he ran. Once Midoriya had finished half of the water he would lower it back down and give Shouto his first ‘good morning’ of the day paired with another smile that rivaled the sun. Sometimes they talked for a little bit, voices soft as they murmured to each other across the kitchen counter, but most of the time they simply enjoyed the comfortable silence between them. Eventually, Midoriya would dismiss himself for a shower and Shouto would stare at his back while he walked away, admiring the way the thin fabric would cling to his shoulder blades. That would complete the start of his day; the start of their day. Shouto liked to think that, while he spent much of those mornings feeling inappropriately thirsty, Midoriya still enjoyed them as much as he did. Maybe not for the thirst aspect, but at least for the quiet moments they shared together.

Shouto was busy thinking about the way Midoriya’s hair curled against his neck when he was covered in sweat when Momo jabbed him in the side with her foot, making him jump.

“Todoroki, are you steaming a little over there?” Ashido was asking, looking far too gleeful.

Shouto panicked for a second, realizing that yes, a few wisps of steam had started rising from his fingers. “I’m not-”

“What are you guys doing?”

The familiar, curious voice made Shouto tense, feeling caught. The Oreo stack toppled when Ashido’s elbow knocked into it as she turned to the voice and Asui let out a disappointed croak. Uraraka’s fingers stilled in his hair and he watched as Oreo’s rolled across the floor, one stopping next to his knee.

“Deku-kun!” Hagakure greeted brightly. “We’re relaxing, obviously!”

Shouto didn’t have to turn to know the other boy’s expression, able to picture his amused perplexity with exact detail.

“Relaxing, huh?”

Uraraka spoke up then and Shouto felt her turn in her seat to face Midoriya. “We’ve been studying super hard, so we thought we deserved a little break.”

“Todoroki deserved one, too!” Ashido added, her grin far too mischievous for Shouto’s liking.

“Todoroki?”

Shouto closed his eyes, somehow having escaped Midoriya’s notice until that point. He reluctantly opened them again once he was confident all thoughts of a sweaty Midoriya were gone and turned to look over his shoulder. Midoriya had stepped up to their little circle and was leaning up against the back of the couch, blinking down at Shouto with a look he couldn’t identify without his glasses. He was wearing a tank top with a low dipping collar and his hair was its usual mess of curls and Shouto could basically follow the freckles that started on his cheeks and flowed down his neck to his shoulders and collarbones and then down his exposed, toned, very nice to look at arms and-

He still had the fucking face mask on.

“I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing, Todoroki.” Midoriya commented with a smile, obviously meaning the face mask.

Shouto could only shrug, not trusting his voice to work properly when his heart had started to pound in his chest and his throat felt like it was on fire.

“I invited him,” Uraraka hummed. “He came down looking like death was at his door.”

Midoriya made a sympathetic noise, eyes still on Shouto, and only looked away when Asui asked him a question that Shouto didn’t hear over his own racing heart.

He was suddenly very aware of just how horrible he looked in that moment. He had on a face mask, a black, sludgy face mask, with his messy hair held back by obnoxiously yellow hair clips that had stupid smiling suns stuck on the ends. He had nearly a full pack of Oreo’s on his thighs and a now crushed cookie in his palm, crumbs scattered across his years old All Might hoodie, and Midoriya had seen him like this. Midoriya had seen him looking like a complete piece of trash with his hair unwashed and stuffing his face with food that wasn’t at all part of their strict school regulation diet because he just needed the comfort of sugar when Midoriya himself looked like a perfect, beautiful, handsome, adorably disheveled-

Shouto wanted to melt into the floor. His only saving grace was that the face mask hid the blush on his cheeks.

“Do you want to stay and watch a movie with us?” Momo was offering and Shouto quickly snapped back to attention.

“We just need to wash these off.” Asui said, pointing to her own face.

Midoriya was still smiling, looking amused, and Shouto stared at his exposed arms a little more. “Sure, I can hang out. What movie?”

Shouto looked back down into his lap and brushed cookie crumbs off his hands while Jirou picked up a stack of movies from the table, trying to regulate his internal temperature. “We’ve got some horror, a couple of romcoms, Jurassic Park, and a season of American Idol.”

“That’s an… interesting combination.”

“I offered to bring down some documentaries!” Momo piped up and Jirou patted her arm affectionately.

“We wanted variety,” Uraraka explained. “We were thinking Jurassic Park or a romcom first.”

“Sounds like fun! If you really don’t mind me joining-”

“Not at all! The more the merrier!”

Shouto had occupied himself with carefully lining up the seal on the Oreo’s package while he listened to the conversation and now dared to glance back up. Midoriya was looking at him again with those wide, bright green eyes and Shouto felt his heart leap into his throat, a bit of steam escaping past his lips when he exhaled.

He felt Momo’s foot nudge against his side and just barely stopped himself from swatting it away, knowing without turning his head that she probably had a smug, satisfied look on her face. The traitor.

Shouto washed his face in the boys bathroom and only felt a little better once the face mask was off. His skin felt a little tingly, but in a good, clean way and he understood why they were popular if they always felt like this. He turned off the tap and stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, water dripping off his nose and down his chin.

He could handle watching a movie with Midoriya. He could. It wasn’t a big deal. He just had to keep his heart rate at a regular tempo and not blush like an idiot. Momo would probably give him side-eyed looks, but he could ignore those. It would be fine. Everything would be fine. His ridiculous little crush would control itself and behave. No more thoughts of sweaty Midoriya or otherwise.

Not right now, at least.

Shouto exited the bathroom and walked back over to the group. He sat back down on the floor and retrieved his Oreo’s and glasses from a smirking Jirou, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her. The plan he had formed in the bathroom went flying out the window as soon as he had his glasses in place, bringing everything back to sharp lines and crisp shapes. Uraraka was fiddling with the DVD player with Asui while Momo and Jirou watched, Momo’s legs now positioned in the other girl’s lap. Ashido, Midoriya and Hagakure were just joining them with several bags of popcorn between them, laying the bags out on the table for easy reach. Shouto stared when Midoriya laughed at something Hagakure said and with his glasses he could see how the other’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, a dimple forming at the corner of his mouth. When Midoriya turned towards him, Shouto hurriedly shoved an Oreo into his mouth and looked away, heart racing.

“Thirsty, much?” He heard Jirou mutter and he froze an Oreo solid in his hand before throwing it at her, only a little satisfied by her resulting yelp as she ducked the cookie projectile.

Uraraka crowed in victory as the TV lit up with the menu screen for the movie, high-fiving Asui. Shouto was almost too busy watching Midoriya out of the corner of his eye to notice Uraraka’s sly smile when she turned around, distracted by Midoriya’s tongue cleaning the popcorn butter off his fingers. Almost.

He was halfway through a frantic gesture telling her to stop before she said, “Deku! Take my seat behind Todoroki! I want to sit by Ashido and Tsu!”

“Oh, sure, of course!”

Shouto almost choked, staring wide-eyed at Uraraka. She wiggled her fingers at him, smile wide, and he barely had the time to scowl before Midoriya was turning to him again. There was plenty of space on the couch for them to not have to be touching, but Momo was suddenly sprawling out a lot more than she usually did and Jirou was kicking up one leg onto the couch as well to take up more room than necessary. Shouto could have moved from his spot on the floor, but Midoriya was already stepping towards him and he didn’t want to seem like he was bothered. He automatically leaned forward to let Midoriya step around him and sit down on the couch, mind sputtering along like a car with three flat tires. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but unlike Uraraka, Midoriya spread his legs around Shouto so he could lean against the couch cushions and he was distinctly aware of how that put him directly between Midoriya’s legs.

“Is this okay?” Midoriya asked him and Shouto wasn’t sure his heart could take this, but he nodded anyways and stuffed another Oreo into his mouth.

He realized too late that he hadn’t taken the hair clips out and that Midoriya had the perfect view of them in his hair with all their smiley sun glory. He wanted to pull his hood up and hide them and his awful hair, but then that would seem weird and Midoriya would ask him about it and- well. Shouto didn’t think he could come up with a valid excuse.

“Hey, can I have one of those?”

It took Shouto a second to realize Midoriya was asking about the Oreo’s and he pulled out three cookies, passing them back over his shoulder. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach when their fingers brushed together and Midoriya responded with a cheery, “Thanks!”

Uraraka was seated between Ashido and Asui now, but she looked over at them with a knowing look in her eye that eerily matched Momo’s and Shouto just barely resisted the urge to shock her with a bit of ice out of revenge. Her grin widened, again as if she could read his mind, and hid a giggle behind her hand before turning to face the TV like everyone else. Shouto sighed softly to himself, eyes flicking to the screen as well when the previews started to play and Hagakure got up to turn off the lights.

Resigning himself to his fate, Shouto settled back against the couch and split apart a new Oreo, trying not to focus on Midoriya’s legs or any part of him in general. At least he wasn’t wearing shorts as he often did; Shouto wasn’t sure his heart could survive being that close to Midoriya’s bare skin considering its struggle now.

The movie finally shifted into the opening credits and everyone quieted down, silence settling over the group. Shouto made it through the first cookie of his split Oreo and was starting in on the creme when he felt a hand brush through his hair. He froze, the second half of the Oreo halfway to his mouth, as Midoriya’s fingers gently nudged against the hair clips. His breath stuttered out of him in a rush, making him feel distinctly breathless, but the crooked fingers only stopped for a second before following the center line of his usual split between hair colors. Shouto could have sworn he heard a mumbled, “Cute” from above his head, but he couldn’t be sure when the movie soundtrack was so loud in the opening scene. He swallowed thickly, mouth dry, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything because how could he when Midoriya was touching him, practically petting his hair, and oh, fuck he was digging his fingers in a little deeper now, properly stroking through the mismatched strands and Shouto felt like he might suffocate with how the tightness in his chest was making it near impossible to breathe right.

He barely managed to bite down on a groan of pleasure, digging his teeth hard into his inner cheek. Midoriya hesitated again, hand growing still, but Shouto tilted his head back a little this time and tried to encourage him silently. Seeming to get the message, he heard Midoriya’s soft huff of amusement before the fingers started moving again and Shouto silenced himself with the remainder of his Oreo, thrumming with- with something. Anxiety, maybe, or just sheer joy. Definitely a little bit of arousal, but he didn’t focus on that part.

Shouto didn’t even bother trying to pay attention to the movie, focusing all his attention on how the scars on Midoriya’s hand caught a little in his hair; how his fingers nudged against the hair clips sometimes but he didn’t remove them; how he would adjust the two colors in Shouto’s hair as if fixing the part between them before mussing it all up again just to start all over. It was a million times better than Uraraka’s gentle petting even though that was special in its own way and Shouto knew that very well. This was just better.

At some point he lost his package of Oreo’s, but he didn’t care, curling his legs up against his chest and tipping his head back a little more into Midoriya’s petting. His eyes were closed and, similar to earlier, a warmth was settling in his limbs, heavier than last time but still just as soft. The initial rush of having Midoriya touch him had settled to a gentle hum, still pleasant but not overwhelming, and made his skin prickle whenever those fingers traced the shell of his ear or dipped down to the base of his neck.

Shouto drifted pleasantly, hovering between sleep and consciousness, but he eventually tipped over into a doze and then fell asleep shortly after. He wasn’t sure how long he slept for, dozing off somewhere between the second and third movie, but when he woke up the room was dark and quiet.

He slowly cracked open his eyes, finding that someone had shut off the TV. The room was nearly pitch black, illuminated only by the soft moonlight that spilled in through the windows. His cheek was cushioned against something warm and firm, body slumped somewhat against the couch, and his ass felt numb when he shifted on the floor. He didn’t know what time it was or if he was the last one left in the lounge, but a small voice reassured him that the girls wouldn’t have left him passed out on the floor alone.

He sat in silence for a few moments, feeling barely awake, and only realized there was still a hand in his hair when he turned his head to nuzzle against whatever his cheek was cushioned on. Shouto’s eyes snapped open and he realized with a rising panic that he was still between Midoriya’s legs and that his cheek was resting against the other boy’s thigh. He had fallen asleep while Midoriya was playing with his hair and with his face inches from-

Shouto ever so carefully sat up despite his rising panic, peeling himself away, and could have cried in relief when he turned to look up and saw that Midoriya was asleep. His head was tilted back against the couch and both his hands now rested idly near his thighs, the one in Shouto’s hair slipping free when Shouto moved. The other boy looked peaceful even with the dark circles Shouto could see under his eyes that matched his own, breathing steady and deep. Shouto was distracted for a few seconds by watching the rise and fall of his chest.

He gave himself a light shake, forcing himself to focus. He should wake Midoriya up and let him go back to his own room. Shouto knew from experience that sleeping like that would only result in a neck ache and he didn’t think Midoriya would appreciate it anymore than he did.

He glanced around the room as he got to his feet, adjusting his crooked glasses, and noticed that everyone else was gone. They had all probably retreated to their rooms, making him wonder if Midoriya had been awake when they did so. Had he stayed put just so Shouto could sleep? Shouto felt his heart swoop in his chest at the thought.

He turned back to Midoriya’s sleeping figure and reached out to grasp his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. “Midoriya. Midoriya, wake up.”

Midoriya blinked open his eyes faster than Shouto expected, looking dazed but awake, and Shouto made to withdraw his hand. Midoriya caught his wrist before he could move it away, freezing him on the spot.

“Sho- Todoroki?” Midoriya used his other hand to rub at his eyes, yawning a little. “What time is it?”

Shouto didn't miss the slip of tongue, butterflies starting to flutter in his stomach and make him feel a little sick. “I don’t know. Late.”

“Mm. Guess we dozed off, huh?” Midoriya peered up at him and-

Dear, god, he had the most perfect, sleepy little smile on his face and his eyes were half-lidded and tired but still bright and focused entirely on Shouto and his hand was warm and rough around his wrist, but familiar and comforting and the moonlight was lighting up his face so beautifully-

Shouto couldn’t be blamed for what happened in the next twenty seconds when his mind was completely blank of everything except Midoriya. At least, that’s what he told himself as he leaned in to kiss the corner of that small, sleepy, beautiful smile.

Midoriya froze under him and Shouto immediately withdrew, horror sweeping through him like a storm. They stared at each other wide-eyed for a few seconds that felt like years to Shouto. He desperately wanted to flee right then and there, but Midoriya’s hand tightened around his wrist as if he knew exactly what Shouto was thinking about doing.

“Todoroki-” Midoriya breathed and Shouto felt frost start to creep along his arm as he grew more frantic.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted before Midoriya could continue, stumbling over his words. “I’m sorry, I just- it’s fine, forget it. It wasn’t- I wasn’t thinking, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s-”

-It’s not okay because he had just ruined everything and how was he supposed to make up for kissing his best friend who had supported him and cared about him for the past three years and was now staring at him like he was a foreign object and probably wondering how to let him down easy or maybe how to tell him to kindly never talk to him again because this wasn’t okay-

Midoriya lifted his free hand and Shouto promptly shut his mouth when it came up to rest against his cheek, thoughts screeching to a halt. He exhaled a puff of frosty vapor against the thumb that brushed his lower lip, watching the shiver that shook Midoriya’s arm. He was struck with the inexplicable urge to brush his tongue against the calloused edge, wanting to taste. His heart felt like it might jump out of his chest, the hairs on his arm now completely frozen, and Shouto had to focus hard on keeping the frost from stretching further down.

Midoriya’s hand moved to the back of his neck at the same time he pulled lightly on his wrist. Shouto’s small gasp of surprise was swallowed by Midoriya’s mouth against his own, sealing their lips together in a proper kiss.

Shouto couldn’t hear anything except his own pounding heart in his ears. His eyes were still wide open and Midoriya’s were half-lidded, staring right back at him, and it was perhaps the most intense look the other boy had ever given him. The hand at the back of his neck gently stroked the soft hairs gathered there, one scarred finger dragging down the side of his neck and making him shiver. Midoriya’s other hand was slowly creeping up from around his wrist to interlace their fingers together and all the while he moved his lips gently against Shouto’s, encouraging him to respond.

Shouto was frozen. His mind spun with the various points of contact between them, fragmented and quickly falling apart with each passing second. He didn’t know what to do. Midoriya’s lips were soft against his own and warm and a little chapped, but still perfect in how they brushed against the corner of his mouth, the other’s breath ghosting over his cheek. Shouto wanted to turn his head and have them sealed against his own again, but he couldn’t move, could barely think. The frost on his arm was crackling a little and he felt like he might start steaming again at any second, maybe burst into spontaneous flames, but he knew his control over his quirk was too rigid to let that happen when someone might get hurt - when Midoriya might get hurt.

Midoriya was starting to pull away now, eyebrows furrowing together and looking concerned and worried and Shouto panicked because he hated seeing that look on Midoriya’s face, so he shuttered his mind to the intrusive thoughts threatening to bubble up and quickly lifted his free hand.

He shook the frost off his fingers and hesitantly touched Midoriya’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the freckles scattered there. Midoriya shivered again but didn’t lean away, the furrow in his brow relaxing as he smiled up at Shouto and Shouto’s heart leaped.

This had to be a dream.

Shouto didn’t hesitate the third time when Midoriya kissed him, leaning into it with what he hoped wasn’t too much enthusiasm. Midoriya made a soft sound against his lips and tugged at their entwined fingers, his other hand sliding from Shouto’s neck. He didn’t have the time to mourn the loss because that hand quickly found his hip and pulled him into Midoriya’s lap instead. Shouto broke the kiss, startled, and let out a huff of amusement at the other’s wide-eyed look of innocence, the impish smile on his face giving him away.

“You aren’t subtle,” Shouto mumbled, curling his fingers behind Midoriya’s ear.

“I know.” He whispered before pulling Shouto into another kiss.

They eventually untangled their fingers so they could both use their hands to explore each other, keeping their touches equally light and tender. Shouto pushed his hands into Midoriya’s curls like he had always craved to and was only a little surprised to find his hair as soft as it looked. He felt Midoriya’s hands drag down his chest, sliding along his ribs and making his breath stutter in his throat. Midoriya paused, fingers prodding at his sides curiously, and Shouto squirmed.

“You’re ticklish,” Midoriya whispered gleefully, eyes bright.

“Don’t get any ideas.” Shouto grumbled, pointedly using one hand to shove away Midoriya’s curious fingers.

Midoriya laughed softly and pressed a placating kiss to his nose. “Sorry, sorry.”

Their lips met again and Shouto’s sensitive sides were forgotten quickly much to his own relief. He was just dragging his hands down to properly examine - not grope, definitely not - Midoriya’s biceps when he felt a few warm fingers tuck up under his hoodie. He gasped in surprise against the other’s mouth and quickly pulled back to meet his eyes. Midoriya peered up at him, eyes still oddly bright in the dim lighting, and asked in a whisper, “Is this okay?”

Shouto licked his lips, watching Midoriya’s eyes track the movement, and nodded. Warm hands slowly pushed under his hoodie and brushed against his lower back, touch gentle. He shivered even with the thin layer of his t-shirt still between them, digging his teeth into his lip and trying not to appear overwhelmed. Midoriya was watching him carefully and Shouto wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he knew him well enough to know that he was probably cataloging every single detail he could in that analytical brain of his. Shouto shouldn’t have been so wound up by a simple touch, but something about it was making his heart seize in his chest more than anything else had thus far. His body screamed for more, nearly shaking with his suppressed desire to press even closer and Shouto curled his fingers a little tighter around whatever body part he could find.

Midoriya, perceptive to a fault, dragged his knuckles along Shouto’s spine and Shouto felt like he might break under the delicate touch. A low whine built up in his throat, his chest aching, and Shouto roughly cupped Midoriya’s jaw to pull him forward again, kissing him. He was barely thinking, just following whatever his body pushed him to do, so he barely hesitated when dragging his tongue along Midoriya’s lip. He felt more than heard the other’s gasp and eagerly repeated the action, nipping at the delicate skin with his teeth and sighed when Midoriya’s crooked fingers twisted into the back of his shirt.

The frost had faded from his skin some time ago and Shouto could feel the rivulets of melted water running down his arm now, soaking into the sleeve of his hoodie. He shivered at the cold wetness against his bare arm and was distracted long enough to be startled when Midoriya suddenly pulled him forward. Shouto inhaled sharply when Midoriya’s lips brushed against his jaw, moving down to the rapid pulse of his jugular. He twisted his fingers into Midoriya’s hair and tugged when he felt the barest graze of teeth against his skin, exhaling a small cloud of steam. Midoriya’s lips curled against his neck and Shouto mumbled a half-hearted admonishment, knowing that the other was smirking, but was quickly distracted again when those lips continued dragging across his neck.

He hadn’t thought his neck was very sensitive, but apparently it was because even the barest touch made him tense and just barely suppress a full body shudder. Midoriya’s use of his tongue and teeth were no help in the matter. Shouto buried his face in the other boy’s curls to muffle the noises that threatened to spill past his lips, practically melting with each hot drag of the other’s tongue. Midoriya was hardly shy in his curious perusal of Shouto’s neck, apparently gaining confidence with each response he managed to draw from Shouto.

“Midoriya-” Shouto breathed, freezing a few strands of Midoriya’s curls when he gasped out a cloud of frost. “Midoriya, I-”

“Todoroki-”

“Shouto.”

“Huh?”

Shouto exhaled a warm breath, carefully brushing out the frost in Midoriya’s hair. He cupped the back of his head and pulled him back so they could meet each other’s eyes again. “Call me Shouto.”

Midoriya blinked slowly, a goofy smile slowly spreading across his face. “Can I?”

“No,” Shouto snorted. “I only said that to be cruel. Yes, of course you can.”

Midoriya huffed and made Shouto yelp by swiftly digging a finger into his ribs. “Be nice, Shouto.”

Shouto felt his heart do something funny in his chest at hearing his name come from Midoriya. He swallowed, meeting his eyes and feeling oddly wrecked by the tender affection written across the other’s face.

“Call me Izuku, then,” Midoriya murmured.

“Okay,” Shouto whispered back. “Izuku.”

Midoriya - Izuku - beamed at him and Shouto didn’t think he would ever see something so beautiful as Izuku’s smile.

“Can I kiss you again?” Izuku asked and Shouto nodded immediately, throat tight.

Their lips met again and Shouto looped his arms around Izuku’s neck, one hand sliding back into his dark curls. Izuku’s hands gently caressed the small of his back, not drifting any lower or higher, and Shouto was perfectly fine with that because he wasn’t sure how much more he could handle. He could feel himself trembling a little, the tender brush against his spine still lingering and making his stomach twist. It was barely a touch at all, more of a caress, but it had shaken him to his core and suddenly it was all he could focus on. Izuku kissed him slow and with a tenderness that hadn’t been there before, slowing down their rushed pace from earlier. His tongue delicately traced the roof of Shouto’s mouth and Shouto sighed against him, gently curling his fingers through Izuku’s hair.

He wasn’t sure how much time they spent making out, but Izuku eventually slowed things down again and then they were just sitting in silence together. Izuku kept one hand at his back while the other moved to the back of his neck, keeping him close even as they stopped kissing and simply shared each other’s breaths. Shouto lost himself in the gentle brush of Izuku’s fingers against his skin, closing his eyes and feeling that same hum he had felt when those fingers had stroked through his hair earlier that night.

He surprised them both with a yawn that cracked his jaw and Izuku laughed quietly at the sound. “Maybe we should sleep,” he suggested.

Shouto blinked sleepily at him and considered the idea. It had to be close to two or three in the morning. It was the weekend, technically, so they could afford to sleep in the next morning, but that would mean going to their separate rooms. Shouto really, really didn’t want to go up to the fifth floor alone, especially not when Izuku was warm under his thighs and his fingers were still brushing his neck like that.

“I’m fine,” he tried to say only to cut himself off with another betraying yawn.

Izuku huffed under his breath and pulled his hand out from under Shouto’s hoodie - they both blinked at the low noise of protest he made in response.

“You’re tired, Shouto,” Izuku murmured after a moment. “You looked exhausted earlier and you still do now.”

“I want to stay here.” Shouto mumbled and he leaned in to tuck himself against Izuku’s shoulder. He tried bearing his weight down as much as possible, but he knew the other could move him with ease if he really wanted to with or without his quirk.

Izuku sighed into his hair and Shouto felt a small thrill run through him when his hands moved to run along his spine again. It wasn’t as breathtaking with the hoodie in the way as well, but it still made Shouto shiver.

He closed his eyes, prepared to fight if Izuku so much as tried moving an inch, but was taken off guard when he felt himself tipping over. Izuku pulled them both down to sprawl out on their sides along the couch, shifting them so Shouto was tucked on the inside against the back of the couch. Izuku pressed in close and slotted one leg between his knees, tangling their legs together, and practically cocooned Shouto in his arms. He kept one firm bicep under Shouto’s head while the other arm he slid around his shoulders, pulling him in against Izuku’s chest. Shouto could feel the thump of his heart like this, steady and loud in his ears not unlike his own.

“Sleep,” Izuku told him, stroking his fingers between Shouto’s shoulder blades and he melted.

Shouto pressed his face into Izuku’s chest and slid an arm around his waist in return, tentatively curling his fingers into the soft material of his top. He felt warm and safe with the couch cushions at his back and Izuku in front of him, boxing him into a safe, cozy bubble. Their feet fell over the opposite armrest and it was an extremely tight fit for two basically fully grown teenagers, but Shouto didn’t dare move. He placed his other hand on the bicep serving as his pillow and gave it a light squeeze, chest swelling with emotion. Izuku made a soft noise above him and kissed the top of his head right by one of the stupid hair clips.

Shouto fell asleep with his heart feeling too full and a knot in his throat.

Waking up for the second time was more of a struggle.

Shouto felt groggy, more sluggish than usual, with a crick in his neck and his glasses digging uncomfortably into his face. Of course he had forgotten to take them off. He tried opening his eyes but was met with an offensive amount of light, so he kept them shut and whined low in the back of his throat. Aside from his aching neck and glasses, he was warm and comfortable and a weight was draped across his waist, keeping him securely in place. It definitely wasn’t encouraging movement, so he stayed put, letting his mind slowly piece itself together bit by bit.

He remembered abandoning his studies yesterday. He remembered going to the lounge and having Uraraka rope him into some bonding moment with the other girls in their class. He remembered enjoying himself despite his initial anxiety and remembered short, gentle fingers running through his hair. And then he remembered Midoriya and the movie and the petting and the- making out. That hadn’t been a fever dream.

Shouto tried cracking his eyes open again, this time just a sliver, and was met with a very HD view of Izuku’s freckled collarbones. Definitely not a dream, then.

He might have panicked if he hadn’t felt so deliriously calm. His thoughts still felt slow moving like molasses, dragging and running together in one big jumble. He couldn’t be bothered to feel panicky when drowsiness clung to him like a second skin, keeping him quiet in the gentle air surrounding them. Izuku’s fingers were on his lower back again, tucked under his hoodie but not his t-shirt, and were tracing random patterns along his spine. Shouto wasn’t sure if Izuku was awake or just half-asleep, so he didn’t say anything.

The room was significantly lighter than it had been when they had fallen asleep, morning sunlight spilling in through the windows. Shouto couldn’t see much past Izuku’s chest or where their feet dangled at the end of the couch, but he couldn’t be bothered to prop himself up and look properly either. He only knew it was morning because he could actually see Izuku and the sunlight that backlit him when Shouto tilted his head up to peek at him. Izuku’s eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and peaceful, making him assume the other boy was asleep despite the fingers at his back.

Shouto tilted his head back down and closed his eyes again, content to soak in the quiet moment before their classmates inevitably came ambling downstairs. He didn’t want to think about the sort of teasing they would fall under when they were found, so he focused on listening to Izuku’s heartbeat instead.

He almost fell back asleep just like that, listening to Izuku breathe and counting each strong beat of his heart. His mind was feeling gooey and slow again, losing whatever clarity it had gained when he first woke up when he heard the soft pad of footsteps on the wooden floorboards.

Shouto almost jumped when he felt Izuku shift, flattening his palm against Shouto’s back and curling around him a little more.

“Deku?” A soft voice asked. “Deku, is that you?”

“Hey, Uraraka.”

Shouto listened as the footsteps came closer, Uraraka drifting over to the couch and he heard her soft gasp when she stopped. Izuku shushed her and Shouto realized they thought he was asleep.

“Oh, Deku!” She whispered, tone gleeful.

“Don’t wake him, please,” Izuku murmured.

“I won’t, I won’t! Please, let me take a picture for you, this is so precious.”

Shouto felt Izuku’s chest rise and fall with the little huff he let out, voice rumbling under Shouto’s ear. “Okay, but make it quick. And you better send it to me!”

“Well, duh!”

Shouto just barely stopped himself from smiling, listening to Uraraka fumble with what must have been her phone. There were a few seconds of silence that followed of her obviously taking the picture and Izuku’s fingers started tracing along Shouto’s back again.

“Deku,” Uraraka whispered, apparently done with her pictures. “When we left last night, did you- y’know.”

Shouto imagined her gesturing with her hands and almost snorted aloud.

“No,” Izuku replied, sounding flustered. “Well- okay, we didn’t- We just kissed. A little.”

Uraraka gasped again, muffled a little probably by her hand. “Deku!”

Izuku shushed her again but Shouto could feel the laughter that shook in his chest.

Another few moments of silence passed and Shouto almost considered revealing himself before Uraraka spoke up again, her tone laced with something he couldn’t place.

“Izuku,” she sighed. “I’m really, really happy for you two.”

Izuku’s breath caught in his chest and Shouto only noticed because of their proximity. If he lifted his head he knew he would find the other boy tearing up a little, his voice wavering when he replied with a breathy, “Thank you.”

Uraraka padded away after another few beats and Shouto felt Izuku sigh quietly, felt the kiss that was placed on top of his head just like the night before. Shouto pressed himself infinitesimally closer, his chest aching with the need to comfort this boy curled around him, and he heard Izuku’s breath catch again. He knew he was blowing his pretense of still being asleep, but he didn’t care, twisting his fingers tighter into the other’s shirt and tucking his head under Izuku’s chin. Izuku tightened his arm around Shouto’s waist in return, squeezing him gently.

They didn’t move for a long time, not even when Bakugo stomped past them with an overly aggressive “Fuckin’ gay-ass shitheads” thrown their way. Shouto kept himself tucked into the warm cocoon Izuku provided even as their fellow classmates drifted around them. The quiet atmosphere vanished quickly, but something delicate remained between them even as everything got noisier and everyone started to gradually wake up. Shouto held onto it even as Izuku talked above him, conversing with Sero who had leaned against the back of their chosen couch. Iida and Uraraka he knew were seated on the couch next to theirs and Kaminari had thrown himself onto the floor to dramatically retell a dream he had supposedly had, a few others drifting over to listen to him. Shouto kept the small, delicate thread between them thrumming with a shared energy as he copied the patterns Izuku traced on his back onto the other boy’s chest, feeling lazy and content. It was a thread that kept them tied together even when they finally separated, forced apart by an enthusiastic Kirishima announcing that Bakugo had made - read: been coerced into making - pancakes for everyone. It was a thread that Shouto felt tremble when Izuku smiled at him across the table after everyone was seated and eating, a smile just for him that made his heart skip a beat. The thread was small and barely there, just enough to keep them tethered to each other, but it was enough. Enough to be a start.

Shouto smiled back across the table and Izuku beamed, absolutely radiant in the morning sun, and Shouto looked down at his plate with a funny feeling in his chest. He wouldn’t call it love, but it was something, important enough to hold close and protect as much as possible. He tucked it in right next to his quiet but deep love for his sister and the more complicated tangle that was for his mother, slipping it just behind the bottomless well of care and appreciation for his friends. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it would get there.

“Oi, Half’n’Half,” Bakugo growled at him from the other end of the table. “What the absolute fuck is in your hair?”

Shouto stared at him for a few seconds before realization dawned on him. Uraraka smacked a hand over her mouth while Ashido and Jirou burst into laughter, Momo and Asui struggling valiantly to hold in their own giggles.

Hagakure, seated next to Kaminari, announced to the rest of the room, “Those are his hair clips you absolute ass and he looks uh-ma-zing! I want to see you pull those off, Bakugo!”

Shouto wasn’t bothered by the resulting laughter of his classmates or Bakugo’s growling. He only had eyes for Izuku who laughed delightedly along with them, eyes crinkling at the corners and his mouth dimpling on one side. When Izuku looked at him again, eyes twinkling with merriment, Shouto wondered why the hair clips had bothered him in the first place.

Impulsively, he kept them, but only Izuku had to know about that.