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For the last few years since they finished their degrees and moved out of home, Hizashi has been begging Shouta to move in with him and Nemuri, under the pretence of them being ‘best friends’ and all that. Shouta is of the very strong opinion that he'd slaughter them both within the week if he ever did.
He loves them. Truly. Just...not enough to watch Nemuri stumble out of her room every Sunday morning with a new bedfellow, or deal with Hizashi’s inability to keep a small space tidy for more than an hour.
So as he staggers into their apartment at 8am after a night shift that was, for lack of a better word, pure hell, Shouta figures he can be forgiven for not noticing the handful of changes that had happened to his best friends apartment since the last time he'd visited. The whole place seems...tidier, but he shrugs internally. They probably just had a house inspection.
Nemuri looks up from the book she'd been reading on the couch and raises her eyebrows at his sleep deprived appearance, gaze flitting to one of the closed bedroom doors down the small, cramped hallway before she shuts her book and shifts to lean over the back of the couch, smiling at her best friend as he drags himself toward their coffee machine.
“Shou! It's been a while since we last saw you, hasn't it? What's been happening?”
Shouta grunts to show he’d heard her but doesn’t say a word until he's poured three shots of coffee into the first mug he picked up from the rack - it’s new, he’s never seen this obnoxiously yellow mug in his life - and finally peels himself away with his goods once the machine finished the third espresso pod. “Been busy,” Is all he manages for a moment, blowing into the mug before chugging the lot without hesitation. Nemuri wrinkles her nose, but is cut off before she can open her mouth to tell him he’s disgusting. “There was a break-in at work so they had to up the security - I've been doing extra shifts to try and help, cos’ two of the boys are still recovering.”
He shrugs. Private security paid relatively nicely - and he can continue his weird sleeping habits - but it's been stressful lately and he’s sort of fucking over it.
“Damn. That's shitty, isn't it?” Nemuri adjusts her position on the couch, waving a lazy hand toward the hallway. “We've been okay - Yamada was up all night last night working on his setlist for this weekend, so he won't surface for another hour or so.” She suddenly perks up, remembering something, and points at the mug Shouta’s gently cradling to his chest as he considered the pros and cons of another two shots of coffee against his heart’s ability to keep up in such a sleep deprived state. “Oh! I completely forgot! We-”
“-Tell me when I wake up from my nap, okay? I'm sure it's not that important.” Shouta mumbles as he makes his decision and topples face first into the other couch, smirking at Nemuri’s frustrated noise at being cut off. What she had to tell him was actually important, but she supposes Shou can just have a nice surprise when he wakes up and realises that they actually found another housemate.
—
The shower is running in the bathroom by the time Shouta surfaces from his short nap, coffee making him at least sub-human until he can justify getting his hands on another one. Yamada looks up from where he’s leaning over Nemuri, watching her cook and shoots him a bright grin, far too happy for Shouta’s liking for...he blearily stares at his phone. 9:20 in the morning.
“Shou!! Nice to see ya, sleepy head!” He half-sings, pulling Shouta into a hug so tight that it makes him wheeze. He awkwardly pats Hizashi on the back before pulling away, scrubbing a hand over his face and muffling a yawn.
“Mornin’.” Shouta steps around Nemuri to pick up the mug he’d used before, freshly washed. Upon closer inspection it has some sunflowers up the side, small white lines shaping them and expanding out to cross the whole mug. He side-eyes his friend as he shoves it under the coffee machine, placing another pod in the top and waiting for it to warm up.
“New girlfriend?” Is all he says, wriggling the mug for a second before pressing the button and watching the machine spring to life. Behind him, Nemuri snorts.
“Uhh, no. That’s Yagi’s.”
“Oh, new boyfriend, then. I get it. How long have you had him for?”
Shouta retrieves the mug when the machine finishes and twists to catch her appalled expression, while Hizashi tries really hard to keep a straight face behind her and fails spectacularly.
Weird.
He narrows his eyes at them when the bathroom door creaks open behind him and Shouta pauses, finally beginning to process what her face even means - not a new partner, then, but that could only mean housemate - and twists to look up - and up - into the bluest eyes he's ever fucking seen. Blue-Eyes blinks at him for a second, processing, until his face splits into a huge grin and he laughs brightly, and Shouta realises that whoever this guy is, he’s completely and utterly fucked in regards to him.
“Oh! You must be Aizawa, yeah? Yamada and Kayama have told me all about you!”
He’s only wearing a pair of tight, ass-hugging skinny jeans, for fuck’s sake. Steam rolls off his bare shoulders and the morning light flickers off a handful of water droplets he'd missed while drying himself moments before.
Hell.
“Hi,” Shouta strangles out, sounding choked. Hizashi makes a stupid sound behind him and he extends his hand to shake Blue-Eyes’ outstretched one. Strong grip. “That's me. I didn't know you, uh, lived here.”
“If you checked your phone, idiot, you would've known about it.” Nemuri tuts with a roll of her eyes, stepping around Shouta to slip her arm through Blue-Eyes’, looking exceptionally smug. “Yagi moved in last week!”
That would explain why his face immediately flushed when Nemuri cuddled up to him, then. He’s still not used to her...Nemuri-ness. Yagi chuckles, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I’m new. Saw their ad shortly after moving to the area, proved I wasn’t a serial killer - so did they - and, uh. Well, the rest is history, isn’t it?” Yagi’s smile is bright, and Shouta is half tempted to raise a hand to block it’s aura.
He stares blearily up at him for a moment longer before he shrugs, passes his coffee to Nemuri, and beelines toward Hizashi’s bedroom to pass out for the next five hours.
“Welcome to hell, Yagi. Hope you survive the next month.” Is what he throws over his shoulder and their new housemate laughs brightly in response, before bursting into conversation with Shouta’s two best friends, letting him get some rest.
—
Shouta starts hanging out more after that.
Any excuse works for him, but he finds himself descending upon his friends a lot more than he used to - even if Yagi isn't there, there are still touches of him lying around. The new blanket spread over the back of the couch, some fancy soap in the bathroom that smells good as fuck; protein in the cupboard...Yagi has stuck. He fits in well with the trio and regularly joins them for Friday night drinks after work and before Shouta’s shift, and has started a Sunday morning brunch tradition purely by being the only one awake when he tumbles in the door after his 12 hour Saturday night event-detailing, greeting him with a warm smile and a cup of coffee before hounding him off to the couch to nap until the others wake up.
Yagi is attentive, too.
He asks about Shouta’s work, remembers tiny details that he forgets, and just...cares about him. Remembers how he despises excessive sugary things but will always stare at the cute little cakes in the cafe slightly down the road and then surprise him with his favourite treat the next time he appears. It’s horrifically domestic, especially when he catches himself asking Hizashi and Nemuri on a Tuesday evening when Yagi is at work if there are any treats he likes. Shouta knows how to make his favourite tea, but he sometimes feels like he needs to do more.
Their reactions to his question almost isn’t worth knowing that the man has a weakness for matcha flavoured treats.
—
They're out at their usual bar on a Friday night a month later when Hizashi decides it's about time Yagi sees the actual worst photo of Shouta that's ever been taken. It's two years old - from the midst of their college years - and his best friend looks far too pleased as he passes his phone across to Yagi with no preamble, and Shouta is too late to snatch it out of his hands as he half-lunges across the table.
It's a two year old photo of Shouta sprawled across Nemuri's ugly as hell old couch, at 4 in the morning, wearing hot pink sweatpants with questionable stains and the formal, ill-fitting suit jacket he'd been wearing for the night. In his hands is a bottle of red wine and a cigarette - they still have no idea where it came from - and the look he's shooting the camera is so exhausted and done that Yagi laughs so hard beer shoots out of his nose.
It only sort of makes up for him seeing the photo at all.
—
It’s almost 5 in the morning when Shouta peers into Hizashi’s apartment, opening the door as quietly as he can in order to sneak inside. Work had been boring - a new recruit was finally on the floor learning the rounds, and with her in the midst of the security staff there hadn’t really been a need for all of them to be on, and so Shouta had been sent home. A 5am sleep was better than 8 or 9am, he figured. Slightly more darkness to pass out in, though the downside was choosing whether to crash in someone’s bed or on the couch - at least at a later time at least one bed was usually vacated by the time he staggered in - and he wouldn’t have to put up with Hizashi’s snuffling or Nemuri’s tendency to be a heat seeking little leech.
As he passes through the kitchen toward the fridge - barely visible underneath the acres of photos and memorabilia covering the damn thing - Shouta glances to the side and freezes, staring wide-eyed at Yagi who stares right back at him in equal surprise.
“Oh. Hi.”
It’s probably not the best of ways to greet his best friends excruciatingly hot roommate, what with his hands already pulling open the door to raid the leftovers Nemuri undoubtedly left, but it is what it is; and Shouta sniffs as he tugs a pizza box from the bottom shelf and turns away slightly to study the contents as Yagi laughs softly behind him. He’s bathed in a warm yellow glow from the lamp above him, open book resting in his lap over the ugly as all hell American themed pyjama pants he apparently owns. His blanket is draped over his shoulders, and Shouta eventually turns back around to face him, pizza slice hanging from his mouth.
He’d been planning on sleeping, but uninterrupted time to hang out with Yagi and attempt to prove to the man that he’s an actual, normal, functioning human being is very tempting. Especially if Hizashi can’t butt in and humiliate him at a moments’ notice.
“Hello yourself,” Yagi says with a smile, marking his page and closing the book in his lap to better pay attention to his not-housemate, voice tinged with concern. “You shouldn’t be here for another what, three hours? What happened?”
Shouta clenches his jaw so hard he bites through the slice in his mouth and has to awkwardly fumble with it, only barely managing to grab it before it hits the floor. Yagi laughs in front of him, a light little tinkle, and Shouta wants to fucking devour him on the spot.
Bastard.
Instead, he crams the errant slice into his mouth and dumps his rucksack on the other couch, grunting in response as he pads across the rug to sink down beside Yagi. “Too many people on,” Is all he says, mouth still full, before he side-eyes his friend with narrowed eyes. “You should be sleeping.”
Yagi smiles at him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “My sleep schedule is all messed up from those night shifts, and I, y’know, stared at the ceiling for two hours before giving it up as a lost cause.” He shrugs, and tucks the blanket over Shouta’s shoulder to keep him warm. Shouta angles his head away in a valiant effort to hide how red his face is from such a domestic act.
“Damn, that’s frustrating. I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Eh, it’s fine!” Yagi laughs, reaching over to bump Shouta’s arm with a fist. “Means I can hang out with you, yeah?”
Oh, fuck him.
“By the way,” Yagi makes a vague gesture toward the hallway at Hizashi’s closed bedroom door which is covered in posters and photos, much like the fridge. The fairy lights he used to have draped across the door have been removed, probably because he couldn’t close the damn thing and Nemuri threatened bodily harm if he didn’t take them down before blasting another one of ABBA’s best-of playlists. “Yamada mentioned something about throwing me a late housewarming earlier. Seeing as I’ve been here a few months and there haven’t been too many disasters, they figured I can stay. What do you think?”
“Don’t let him DJ if you know what’s good for you,” Shouta grumbles, folding his arms across his chest and trying to ward off the sleepiness that’s just overtaken him. “His taste in music sucks.”
Yagi snorts, but takes what he says as an affirmative - there wasn’t a no involved, so he’s mostly in the clear - and settles back into the couch again, shoulder brushing Shouta’s. “Good to know! And thanks for not saying no, Aizawa. Very kind of you”
Shouta glances up at him through his fringe, eyebrow raised. “I fucking hate parties, Yagi. But I don’t actually live here, so it’s not as if I have a say in whether you do or not. I’ll just show up, drink as much as I physically can in order to avoid talking to people, and probably pass out in ‘Zashi’s room before midnight.”
“You basically live here, dude. I see you in here more than I see you actually outside, and I’m not entirely convinced that you have an apartment of your own.”
He grins at him with a little too many teeth on display. “That’s primarily because you haven’t actually seen it, yet. Besides, you guys are closer to work, so, after night shifts…” Shouta shrugs, stretching his arms in front of him, and pretends not to notice Yagi noticing his muscles. “It’s easier to just crash here. If I was on day shifts you wouldn’t see me, like I do occasionally.”
Beside him, Yagi chuckles. There’s a faint heat to his cheeks, which is extremely satisfying to see. “I guess you have a point, there. Maybe one day I’ll get to see it, yeah? What’s your apartment like?”
“Too quiet.”
He laughs outright at that - at Shouta’s bland response, at the subtle wrinkle of his nose as he says the words, and at the slightly bewildered look he shoots at him when he breaks down - and swipes at his eye, brushing an imaginary tear away. There’s something cute about the way Shouta loses his wind when Yagi laughs, how his brain stops functioning and focuses only on the way his shoulders quake, at the bright, happy grin on his face, at the sheer aura of pleasure that he emanates. Shouta shakes his head to collect his thoughts and slides further down the couch, shoulder pressed against Yagi’s sculpted bicep, hair falling into his face, and opens his mouth to respond but instead lets out a jaw-cracking yawn, causing Yagi to snort.
“Go to bed, Aizawa,” He murmurs softly, bumping him ever so gently. Shouta grumbles and shifts his position, tucking his knees up underneath him properly and mashing his face into Yagi’s shoulder, who can hopefully feel the way he shakes his head. “You can use my bed? If you don’t want to share with the others.”
It’s probably an afterthought - clearly Yagi doesn’t have any intention of sleeping - but it forces Shouta to open one eye and peer up at him curiously, cheek smushed against the skin of his arm. “Not gonna sleep, then?”
“Nah, probably not.” Yagi rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “I’ll just take it easy today, and I can probably nap in the afternoon if it’s quiet.”
Shouta hums, before settling against him a little more. God, he hopes Yagi doesn’t mind him getting cuddly, but it’s probably somewhere around 5:30 and Shouta is fucking tired, and he doesn’t really want to have his first experience in Yagi’s room being passed out in a dead sleep.
“I’ll keep you company, then.” It’s a blatant lie - he’s seconds away from being completely unconscious, but if Yagi notices he doesn’t say anything - and instead he opens his book again and settles, slipping an arm around Shouta’s shoulders to keep him in place when his breathing slows and his head drops forward, completely out.
—
Shouta has a text from Hizashi when he wakes up at 11 o’clock - tucked in on the couch under the blanket with his head mashed into a pillow - and it turns out to be a photo of him and Yagi, passed out, nestled together in the dull rays of the morning sun. Underneath is a pile of emoji’s and far too many hearts, but Shouta saves the photo anyway.
It’s cute, even if it looks like Yagi is drooling into his hair.
—
A week later Nemuri sends him a photo of Yagi looking absolutely delighted - he looks exhausted, there's ash smeared on his cheek from the (most likely) 24 hour shift he just worked at the fire station - but he's holding the little box of matcha daifuku Shouta had dropped in with the day before like it's solid fucking gold and not cheap, easy to find treats.
He saves that one too.
--
For some stupid, unknown reason, Hizashi has decided that his DJ show name should be Present Mic, and Shouta thinks it's quite possibly the stupidest decision he's ever made. He's even made a shitty banner for the party, one hand pressed to his headphones as he tries to ignore the godawful music blaring through the speakers beside him.
If this is the set he plays at other parties, Shouta feels terribly for his customers.
He escapes onto the balcony an hour after arriving following the fourth person attempting - and failing - to speak with him, nursing a shitty beer and one of the bowls of chips from the table; dumping both onto the railing and letting out a breath he hasn't realised he's been holding.
It's satisfying to know that parties still suck.
Nemuri vanished shortly after the party began with Emi hot on her tail, Yagi’s still on his way home, and with Hizashi playing DJ he'll be unavailable all night, so that basically leaves Shouta friendless and bored. He's starting to zone out after ten minutes of staring across the skyline - after damn near jumping out of his skin a few minutes before when the entire apartment almost rocked with a raucous cheer - when he hears the door sliding open behind him, opening his mouth before he can check to see who's joining him.
“Occupied. You can deal with whatever you need downstairs.”
A soft laugh makes him spin quickly to realise it's Yagi that's found him, fingers lazily holding a beer and his other hand pressed over his mouth to stifle his amusement.
“I’m sorry, Aizawa.” Yagi’s expression is serious but his voice is full of laughter, and his eyes twinkle from the fairy lights strung across the balcony as he tips his head at Shouta, teasing. “I’ll take my sorry self elsewhere.”
Fuck him.
He rolls his eyes and turns back to face the city, shoving his hand into the chip bowl and taking a swig of beer in order to not deem Yagi’s comment worthy of a rebuttal. The other man chuckles and steps up beside him, gently plucking a chip from the top of the pile and following Shouta’s gaze out over the city. Their shoulders are resting against one another and it helps to keep them warm against the chill of the evening.
“Didn’t realise you’d gotten home.” Shouta says after a moment of silence, resting his beer bottle against his lower lip.
Yagi peers at him curiously. “Didn’t you just hear the screaming from inside…? I only just got in.”
And he beelined to find Shouta, huh. Funny.
“Hizashi tends to do that sometimes,” Is his reply with a breezy little shrug. “I’ve learned to tune it out.”
He lets out a soft laugh and Yagi nudges him with his shoulder, glancing across at him with a small smile and very clearly changing the subject. “So.”
Shouta rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can and pushes back. “Yes?”
“Yamada’s an awful DJ.”
That actually manages to startle a proper laugh out of him and when he’s settled - still wheezing - Shouta looks up - and up - at Yagi, who’s staring at him as if he’d hung the stars, or some shit. Awestruck.
“I don’t think,” He begins, looking awkward as hell for the first time in Shouta’s memory, and extremely unsure. “I’ve ever seen you laugh like that.” If Shouta looks closely enough, he’d be able to see the colour that’s risen to Yagi’s cheeks, staining his ears pink. Not that he’s much better; Yagi’s intense gaze always winds up doing funny shit to him and he can feel his face heat.
Shouta opens his mouth to reply when the door slides open again, showing Naomasa - bright eyed and studying Shouta, as if he knows exactly who he is despite him only knowing of the police cadet from Yagi’s vague mentioning - and he peers between the two of them, concern marring his features. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”
Yagi waves him off, and is beckoned inside to see his friends. As he leaves, he shoots Shouta an apologetic look over his shoulder, who waves him off and settles in to pick at the label on his bottle.
It’s going to be a long night.
--
Yagi reappears sporadically over the course of the evening, always bringing another beer for Shouta, and they manage to get snippets of conversation in each time before he’s called back inside.
By the sixth time it’s happened, Shouta takes a vague, smug pleasure in seeing Yagi actually getting frustrated.
He’s ducked inside a few times over the party - mostly to grab food and extra drinks, and to occasionally stand through a boring conversation with one of Hizashi’s friends - but Shouta spends most of the night outside, and by the time it cracks 2am and the party has sort of wound down, he’s feeling pretty buzzed. Not drunk - thank god - but...happier. Lazy. There’s a mess of label scraps in the first chip bowl he brought outside with him, and as he leans over the railing to watch how the city lights have slowly dwindled over the night, he feels someone moving up beside him.
“Hey,” Yagi says, beer in hand, tapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle. “How’re you doing?”
“Hey yourself,” Shouta replies without thinking, and he doesn’t miss how Yagi’s attention immediately snaps to him. He takes another swig to distract himself from the weird feeling in his gut. “I’m alright - getting cold, but I’m waiting for more people to leave before I’m willing to brave inside again.”
Yagi snorts and pulls away for a moment and Shouta is about to turn to look at him when a warm jacket is placed gently over his shoulders, and Yagi’s scent washes over him.
His fucking knees go weak at the gesture, and Shouta claws at the railing with one hand before he can make an ass of himself. Yagi bumps his shoulder good-naturedly, easy smile on his face and now wearing his bright, ugly blanket from the couch around his shoulders.
“Thought you looked cold from where I saw you inside, so I figured you’d appreciate something warm, yeah?”
Shouta doesn’t respond for a moment, hand up to pop the collar a little more on the varsity jacket, and nods mutely. He might actually die, tonight.
They settle into an easy silence, comfortable and not requiring conversation to fill it. It’s one thing Shouta appreciates about Yagi - it’s his acceptance of the quiet, knowing that it doesn’t always require filler - and a soft smile crosses his face at the thought as he takes another swig, humming softly after a moment. Yagi peers down at him curiously, but makes no move to break the quiet further.
“We’re friends, right?”
Probably not the best thing to open with, if Yagi’s choked cough is anything to go by, and Shouta buries his face further into the jacket to hide the furious blush that rushes to his face.
“Um - I-I guess? Yeah? We’re friends, we’re definitely friends,” Yagi’s babbling. It’s stupidly fucking cute to witness. “I mean, we’ve fallen asleep on the couch together, and, like, y-you’ve seen me in my pyjamas? And I’ve seen you after a 14 hour shift looking like shit? Aizawa, we’re absolutely friends by now.” His fingers pick agitatedly at the bottle in his hands and Yagi side-eyes Shouta with concern, brow furrowed. “Why?”
Shouta thinks for a moment, before draining the rest of his beer and placing it on the table behind him without looking. It misses, and the bottle clatters loudly off the tile as it hits the ground - making Yagi jump a fucking mile - but he doesn’t care about any of that. They’ve come this far, he’s definitely more drunk than he thought he’d be, so he might as well take the dive right now, right?
“Cos’ I think,” He pauses, swallows. “I think you should call me Shouta.”
There. He definitely doesn’t look Yagi’s way as he chokes and stares at him, completely floored, and instead focuses on the city skyline again.
The silence that descends is slightly less comfortable than before.
“Shouta, huh?” And hell, doesn't that send a bolt right through him.
Yagi shifts beside him and Shouta can feel him moving closer, his shoulder pressing into his arm, when a gentle hand tips his chin toward him and Yagi smiles that breathtaking, beautiful smile of his. Shouta vaguely thinks that he might be in love.
“You can call me Toshinori, then.”
Fuck.
Yagi’s - Toshinori’s - hand is warm against his face and Shouta swallows, not missing the way his blue eyes follow the motion closely. He can feel his thumb brushing against his stubble, almost as if he's never felt it before, and Shouta murmurs his name quietly - to himself more than anything - and then balks when Toshinori leans down a little.
“Sorry, I didn't quite catch that?” He murmurs, teasing, watching his thumb as it brushes against Shouta’s chin, edging closer to his lip with each pass.
Shouta licks his lips, gaze flitting to the door leading into the apartment, which looks pretty empty by now. “I said,” He looks back up when Toshinori taps his chin with a finger, poking his tongue out at him when their gaze meets. “Toshinori. It's nice to meet you.”
Toshinori shifts suddenly so his back is pressing into the railing and pulls Shouta with him, his breath catching at the change in position, but as his mouth opens to comment on it Toshinori presses his own against it, softly - so fucking softly - and then pulls away, biting his lip. His thumb draws nervous circles on his cheek and his other hand plays with the long black strands of hair that have come free from his bun, and Shouta would close his eyes and melt against him if he hadn't just been kissed.
“I'm so sorry - I just - I really wanted to, um, Shouta, you have no idea how long I've wanted to-”
He's silenced by Shouta pressing his hand to his mouth, brain still short circuiting and unable to form words. He had a plan, for fucks sake. Spill his guts underneath the fairy lights and then kiss Toshinori senseless. His brain is fucking useless once there's kissing involved.
This isn't happening until Shouta tells him how he feels.
“I wanted,” He begins, pulling his hand away from Toshinori’s mouth and leaning against him more when the man exhales, attention completely focused on him, ears slowly staining pink. “To tell you how I felt, before we, you know.”
Shit. This is awkward.
Toshinori laughs softly, thumb brushing the scar that marrs his cheek, and Shouta is momentarily distracted when his eyes slip shut from the gentleness of the gesture.
“Do you have to tell me?” He asks, and Shouta glares at him, pinching his side.
“I do. I have to tell you how much your stupid, pretty face fucks with me, and how I can't form a coherent sentence when you're wearing skin tight clothes - like right fucking now - and how I've actually dreamed about this moment since you mentioned the party weeks ago, and how Hizashi and Nemuri have been busting my balls to just confess, and-”
He's cut off by Toshinori kissing him again, properly, and Shouta’s eyes slip shut and he fists a hand into Toshinori’s shirt, the other sliding into his hair as he melts against his chest. Toshinori is a good kisser - of fucking course he is - but Shouta can feel his dumb smile even as he tries to hide it, even as he angles his head and slides one of his hands into Shouta’s hair to tug gently and lead him a little, even as his tongue slides across his bottom lip and makes Shouta’s knees go weak.
“You're not,” Toshinori pulls away to breathe but keeps close, pressing kisses to the side of Shouta’s mouth and angling for his jaw. He's definitely smiling now, he can feel his teeth lightly pressing against his skin with every little kiss. “Exactly making this easy on me, Shouta. I had a plan, y’know.”
He tugs on Toshinori’s hair gently and lets out a little gasp when teeth slide against his throat, biting his swollen lip and angling his head up to give the blonde better access. “A plan?” Is all he manages, a little weakly and breathily, but at least he manages to say it. Toshinori hums against his skin.
“Yeah. After we fell asleep together - you remember that, right? - I've been thinking about how I’d be able to get you into my room. Wanted to be all romantic, and stuff.”
Shouta snorts at that, and yelps when Toshinori nips him.
Bastard.
“All ‘romantic and stuff,’ huh?” He teases, and snickers when Toshinori pulls back to frown at him, fingers pulling his hair gently in retaliation. Shouta tries very hard not to let him see how much that gets him.
“Yeah, romantic and stuff, asshole. Wanted to ask you out, take you out to a nice dinner, maybe go bowling, or something, cos’ I never see you out doing shit. Wanted to tell you I liked your stupid face and want some equality in this, cos’ you keep losing your goddamn mind when you see me fresh out of the shower but I have never had the pleasure of the reverse.”
They're children. They're fucking children, but Shouta can't stop the terrifying grin that crosses his face even if he tried, and instead cups Toshinori’s face and pulls him into another kiss.
Long fingers brush over the hem of his shirt and Shouta hums into Toshinori’s mouth as they slide against his skin, trying - and failing - to not laugh when he tickles him.
“Stop,” He wriggles away from Toshinori’s prying fingers, almost jumping away when he barks out a laugh and tries to grab him again. There's a stupid, absolutely lovestruck look on the blonde’s face - like he can't believe this is happening - and he holds his hands up when Shouta moves back and presses against him, sneering up at him even as he pulls him down to kiss him again. “Stop making me laugh, asshole. I just want to kiss you.”
Toshinori snickers, sliding a hand underneath his shirt again - but thankfully not to fuck with him - and brushes his hand against his cheek, smiling softly down at him. Shouta presses his face into his palm, twisting to kiss the skin and catching the look Toshinori shoots him.
“Hey.”
Toshinori laughs, but leans forward at Shouta’s gentle poking that isn't all that gentle, and presses his forehead against his own. “Hey yourself,” He murmurs, kissing at the corner of his mouth. “You should stay in my room tonight.”
Shouta couldn't agree more.
--
Shouta stumbles out of Yagi’s room on Sunday morning - shirtless, hair disheveled, his throat and chest covered in little bruises - beelines into the kitchen and abruptly turns and leaves when Nemuri sees him and screams.
—
9 months later, Shouta’s rent needs renewing. Instead of signing the contract, he moves in to their apartment, into Toshinori’s room; who’s a smug bastard about the whole thing, but helps his boyfriend carry his shit up the stairs with minimal complaining.
Hizashi is, of course, over the fucking moon about it.
He reaches across the table one night to shake Toshinori’s hand, who looks at him in utter befuddlement, but takes it nonetheless. Nemuri gently pats his shoulder and beams at him.
“Thank you,” Is what he starts with, and Shouta groans and drops his head to the table with a dull thunk. “For managing to get my stupid asshole of a best friend to finally move in with us. We’ve been trying for years, and it took you less than twelve months to do it.”