Work Text:
“Good morning beautiful”
Hitoshi never thought he'd be one to smile at good morning texts. They were inane, routine, and ultimately kinda thrilling from his kinda maybe boyfriend. He lets the corners of his mouth raise slightly.
Lightning Bug:
SH: “good morning walking power outage”
KD: “Awwww are u still not over that??????”
SH: “i never forget”
KD: “Hey since u never forget things I assume that u remembered we have a date today”
SH: “hmmmmm was that today?”
KD: “Shinsou!!!!!!!!!!!!”
He sets the phone down for a second and snickers into the back of his hand.
SH: “i might recall a certain plan with someone”
KD: “Yeah you'd better”
He puts the phone down and goes to brush his teeth. While he gets ready for the day, he thinks about all the things that led them to this point: the hours spent in the dirt, the chess matches, an amount of flirting that would make even Mina blush. Mostly he thinks about how excited he is to see Kaminari. It really has only been a few hours since he last saw him, but crushes do weird things to your brain: like make you think of something funny they did and end up laughing so hard you choke on the toothpaste. But he wouldn't trade the feeling for anything.
He's really glad Kaminari is so flirty and takes the lead. Hitoshi's not so confident, not so direct. It still takes him a lot of reassurance to know that it's ok to be sweet, that he's not being too much. It's not logical. After all, Kaminari calls him pet names all the time. He had before they'd gone out, but now he'd doubled down, throwing out classics like: beautiful, cutie, babe, even some more creative names like: troll doll, depleted battery pack, and my favourite brand of catnip. But Hitoshi has tried typing “good morning beautiful” at least ten times before deleting it and closing out of the messenger app thinking I am a coward.
He isn’t used to any of this: the affection, someone thinking he's cute, someone being okay when he makes mistakes, like picking a restaurant that gave them both food poisoning. “Hey, at least it's memorable,” Kaminari had said.
He's going to make sure this date is memorable for other reasons, much better ones. He really is trying his best: no food they could get food poisoning from as far as he knows. Just ice cream and roller skating, the first being picked by him, the latter suggested by Mirio.
“What about roller skating?” Mirio had said, picking up Eri. “Tamaki and I go a lot. It's some good exercise and a good excuse to hold hands when the sappy songs come on.”
“Is that really something people like?” he'd asked, scrunching up his nose.
Mirio shrugged. “I don't know. We like it, and others sure seem to from the couples I see there.”
That was all Hitoshi had needed to hear.
The point is: he has a plan in mind, and this date is going to go painfully smooth, with no one needing to rush home for a medical emergency this time. He isn’t going to ruin his second chance.
They’d agreed to meet outside the dorms at noon, so that's where Hitoshi is, sprawled out on a wooden bench, scrolling through the newest issue of his favourite biking magazine, lazily letting his eyes drift over the pages while his mind focuses on other things. After a few minutes of unsuccessful reading, he shoves his phone in his coat pocket and takes a deep breath. It’s going to be okay.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone approaching. He turns his head to see Kaminari walking towards him, eyes already crinkling. He’s slightly more dressed up than Hitoshi usually sees him, wearing a black t shirt with black slim jeans and a vibrant yellow belt. Around his waist is a tied yellow flannel, the only thing even resembling a coat that he seems to have brought. Hitoshi bites back the urge to ask if Kaminari wants to go back inside and grab a jacket for when it inevitably gets cold later. It would probably just come off as rude. I can just offer my jacket if I need to, he thinks, but then again I hate being cold more than anything. He likes to believe he’d be nice and considerate, but he hopes it doesn’t come down to that.
“Where are we going first?” Kaminari asks breathily, and a wave of something hits him right in his gut, something fluttery and confusing.
“I was thinking we could get some ice cream,” he says, avoiding making eye contact. Eye contact just makes talking hard. “As far as I know, ice cream CANNOT cause food poisoning,” he adds quickly, “but I can check!” he finishes, whipping out his phone.
Kaminari laughs brightly. “I'm sure it'll be fine. I love ice cream, especially this time of year.”
“In fall?” he asks, mildly confused. The cool breeze cuts through his coat and over his pink scarf, a gift from his dad. Yeah, he calls Aizawa dad now. It’s still a little weird for the both of them, a nice kind of weird though. The kind of brief, stark pauses between passing coffee cups kind of weird. Never anything he expected to have.
When Hitoshi had been a kid hiding newspaper clippings of Eraserhead in his pillowcases, reading them pressed up against the door to harvest the small glow of hallway light that slipped under the closed door, he had thought in his briefest, most self indulgent moments that maybe they were similar in some ways. Their quirks were maybe a little alike; they both had nonphysical quirks that could be used either for great good or great evil. Eraserhead was clearly using his quirk for great good, and Hitoshi had dared to dream that that could be him some day. It was when he first thought, “I can be a hero.”
Of course, he'd never suspected he would one day be trained by his inspiration, and he’d certainly never thought he’d be adopted by him. Although child Hitoshi had thought their quirks were a little similar, he never would have guessed just how similar himself and Aizawa actually were.
From their sleep patterns to the way they take their coffee to their love of cats-even their attraction to loud blonds who won't leave them alone, they really are alike. So when Aizawa gave him the scarf and said, “I think you'll find it comfortable. It's good for hero work to be able to hide your expressions,” Hitoshi knew he meant, if you don't want to show how you're feeling, this is a good way to hide it .
He's ducked his face into his scarf many times when with Kaminari, but now he's figuring he probably should be a little more obvious with what he's feeling since they're dating. A little.
Right now he's mainly just feeling confused that Kaminari likes eating ice cream now of all times. The air is biting, and the birds have fled, and branches have started to show their twisted wooden appendages. It's cold out. Not exactly prime ice cream weather.
“Yeah, I love eating cold things when it's cold and hot things when it's hot. Catch me drinking hot cocoa in the summer…with rainbow sprinkles of course…ooo, and a dash of cinnamon!” Hitoshi creeps his face into his scarf before catching himself. It's ok if he sees you smiling.
“My mom used to make it with just a pinch, but I like to put a little more in, not Bakubro levels of kick but a little oomph, you know? Do you think Bakugou's done the cinnamon challenge? Seems like something he'd do. Why are you laughing?”
He fights the urge to hide his face in his scarf again. Maybe he shouldn't have even brought it with. Then a gust of wind hits him, and he remembers that his scarf also functions...as a scarf. And it's cold.
“You're just very cute,” he admits, ears scarlet from more than just the wind. Kaminari stares at him blankly, and he starts to wonder if that was the wrong thing to say. “Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt what you were saying. Continue please,” he says quickly.
“I...don't remember what I was saying,” Kaminari replies, looking slightly dazed.
“I'm sorry,” Hitoshi apologizes. He feels like it's only fair for making him feel awkward. He’d tried to be a little more open, and clearly it backfired. You’re coming on too strong. You’re going to scare him.
“No, no, it was fine. Good, actually. Really good,” he says, cheeks red. “I'm just not that used to compliments.”
Hitoshi finds that hard to believe, but he’s not about to call him out on it.
“Where was I?” he asks, voice wandering.
“Cinnamon.”
“Oh yeah! The cinnamon challenge! I don't know if Bakubro has done it, but I know he's bitten through a tin can before just because someone said he couldn't. And he doesn't have quirk-sharp teeth like Kirishima, so how he did it I'll never know-”
They keep walking, the air mostly filled with Kaminari's talking: a bit more erratically than Hitoshi remembers, but he doesn’t mind. They walk along the road so close that their hands brush. If Hitoshi was not a certified coward, he would grab Kaminari’s hand. He’s certainly thought about it enough. But the fact remains that he is a certified coward, so his hand remains very much chilled and alone. Finally, they come into view of their destination, a small wooden booth with picnic tables in front of it.
“Sorry, I know it's outside, but it's really the only ice cream place near the school,” he mutters.
“No, that's totally cool! It's beautiful out today,” Kaminari replies.
For the first time, Hitoshi looks away from the bright shining sun that is Kaminari into his surroundings. He blinks at the pale blue sky and wispy clouds swirling above him. It's sunny but not overbright: really the perfect fall day. A leaf catches on the breeze. Hitoshi watches as it drifts down, twirling gracefully through the air before snacking Kaminari in the face. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before they burst out laughing. “I'm gonna leaf,” Kaminari threatens.
“Why are you like this?” Hitoshi sighs.
“It all stems from my childhood,” he answers in a contemplative voice.
Hitoshi coughs to cover a small laugh. “You're the worst.”
“You laughed! Admit you find them funny!”
“No offense, but I'll never admit that,” he replies with a wide smile.
“You say that now, but I'm told I can be very charming.”
“Who told you that?”
“Hey!” Kaminari yelps.
Hitoshi looks back at the shack and is surprised to see a long line of people in puffer coats. Seriously, how did he not notice that before? Kaminari is dangerously distracting.
“It isn’t usually this crowded,” he mutters apologetically.
Kaminari bounds up to the line, seemingly undeterred. “Hi, me and my friend here were wondering: why’s the line so crowded today?” he asks the nearest people, two older women in buttercream pastel puffer coats. They beam at him.
“It’s a special today! Two ice creams for the price of one,” the brunette answers.
“Oh that's awesome.”
“You picked a good day, young man,” she replies.
“Did you hear that?” Kaminari says, elbowing him slightly, “It’s a good day.” The side of Hitoshi's mouth quirks up before he remembers the line. He frowns.
“If you don’t want to wait, we can go somewhere else,” he mutters.
“No, here seems great!” he replies, “Unless you’re going to get bored of my company.”
Hitoshi smiles a little shyly, “Never.”
“Never? Not even if I were to say…tell you in detail about my rock collection?”
“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he scoffs.
“And if I were to teach you how to solve a rubix cube without a visual demonstration?”
“I’d listen,” he replies, smiling.
“And if I were to sing the crayon song to you on repeat?”
“Well then I’d leave you no question.”
Kaminari snorts. “I don’t blame you.” He places a hand on his hip, “So how’s the whole hobby thing going anyway?”
Hitoshi thinks back to his last therapy session; they’ve been going a lot better by the way, ever since he realized he can speak up when he’s uncomfortable. “We’ve been trying a few things.” He scrunches his nose, “Soap carving isn’t for me. Neither is origami. Right now we’re trying guitar.” He pauses a moment. “I like it. Mic is teaching me on his acoustic, and it’s nice. I like the feeling, but also it’s nice getting to know Mic better,” he admits, slightly embarrassed.
“I actually play a bit of guitar myself,” Kaminari replies, enthusiasm bleeding into his voice.
“Really? I didn’t see a guitar when I was in your room.”
“It’s under the bed actually. I don’t play it as much as I used to. So you’re building up callouses, right?” Kaminari asks casually, grabbing his hand like it’s nothing. He feels his face grow warm as Kaminari runs his fingers along the pads of his fingertips. It’s true, there are slight callouses there where there weren’t before. It feels different when Kaminari's fingers touch his own.
“You just wanted to hold my hand,” he says, a slight smile twisting his mouth.
“Guilty as charged.”
“Was that a pun?”
Kaminari smirks. “Does that shock you?”
“You nerd,” Hitoshi says, shaking his head.
“So when you get better you’re going to serenade me right?”
“Pfft you wish.”
He pouts, dropping Hitoshi's hand. Hitoshi misses the warmth immediately. Because it's cold out. Clearly.
“Aww why not?”
“Isn’t that a bit cheesy?”
“I’d swoon,” Kaminari crows.
“You swoon over everything.”
“I do not!”
“When I ordered food for you because your mouth was full?”
“That was sooo romantic,” Kaminari says, playfully miming a swoon.
He snorts. “That was because you literally could not talk with all that bread in your mouth. I wasn’t about to pull the chair out for you or anything.”
“You’re no fun. You still haven’t given me a real reason why you won’t serenade me,” Kaminari says with a pout.
“I can’t sing,” he replies, smiling.
“Hell if I care. I’ll sing.”
“Well then you’ll be serenading me.”
“We’ll serenade each other then. I mean, it’s either that or a chess rematch,” Kaminari counters, waggling his eyebrows.
“Hell no. If you want to play chess so bad, challenge Mic to a match.”
“Dude, I don’t want to be obliterated.”
“So you understand my point.”
“Serenading it is,” Kaminari replies with confidence.
“Alright it’s a date.”
It's a bit bold to plan your next date when at the start of a date, but Hitoshi knows that no matter what happens, he'll crave that 3rd date. Because Kaminari smiles at him, and his heart flutters. And every time he thinks about him his chest feels tight like he can't breathe. He feels like he should hate it. But he can't bring himself to hate it.
“So what about you?” he asks to compose himself.
“What about me? There’s a lot of things,” Kaminari teases.
He raises an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”
“Pretty good. Mic has been giving me assignments in a different font, and I don’t know-it’s easier to read. Oh, that reminds me! I got a new audiobook!”
“Really? What book?”
A pink tint saturates Kaminari's face.
He blushes a lot, Hitoshi thinks. Pink suits him.
“It’s, um, a Warrior Cats book,” he mumbles.
Hitoshi decides not to tell him that that is one of the hottest things he’s ever heard. He also decides not to tell him that he runs one of the most popular Warrior blogs on the web. He figures that’s more like 3rd date information, or-when he thinks about the roleplays on there from when he was first starting out-maybe no date information.
“Oh that’s…cool. I’ve read a few.”
Note: all of them.
“Oh really? Which ones?”
Shoot. If Kaminari mentions something outside of the books he lists, he's going to have to pretend to not know about it. That's too much deceit for him. He's going to have to come up with a lie so clever that it leaves room for him to know things but also doesn't make him seem like a total nerd-
“Most of them?” he answers sheepishly. Nailed it.
“So you like cats, huh?”
“You’ve known me this long, and you’re only now figuring this out?”
“So do you have a cat?” Kaminari asks instead of answering his question.
“I guess. We have 2: Bagel and Celery. Here.”
He pulls out his phone and opens it to pictures of the cats. Honestly, it’s not hard to find when his phone storage is like 60% cat pics.
“Holy crap, they’re so cute!”
“The fluffy orange one is Celery. The chubby, brown-striped one is Bagel. I have to be hopped up on allergy meds all the time, but it’s worth it.”
“You’re allergic to cats?! And yet you have 2.”
“Yeah,” he snorts, “like I’m going to let anything stop me from petting cats. I’m just allergic to cats and dust mites.” He rubs his finger across his chin thoughtfully. “What about you? Any allergies I should know about?” he teases.
Kaminari opens his mouth to reply when the soft ambience of chatter is broken by a loud whirring noise, a ‘startle Present Mic by making toast in the dark at four in the morning’ screech. Hitoshi immediately covers his ears on instinct. Unfortunately, Kaminari does not have those same battle hardened instincts. The noise stops, and Kaminari wobbles a little. “What was that?” he asks, his voice hopping a few decimals.
“I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good,” Hitoshi replies, glancing at the booth. Behind the counter a man in a red candy-striped hat shakes a large hunk of metal, the ice cream machine. At least that’s what it looks like. He assumes it's an ice cream machine, but to be honest his knowledge on that subject is a bit lacking. After the man whacks, throttles, and tugs at the machine, he finally turns to the expectant crowd. “I’m so sorry. Our ice cream machine appears to be broken. We have some french fries or fried pickles if you’re still interested in buying food,” he says apologetically.
“Oh, come on!” Hitoshi exclaims quietly. Things just can never go right for me can they. He sighs. That's ungenerous.
No, things have actually been going well. You're a hero student now. You have a few people you can call friends. You have a family now, and the guy you like likes you back. This is just a little fluke. Things go wrong sometimes. The universe is NOT out to get you.
“It’s fine Hitoshi. I’m not really that hungry,” he says, smiling, but there's an underlying sadness hiding in the lines of his eyes.
“That’s a lie,” Hitoshi says bluntly because really?-At this point he knows Kaminari, and if there’s one thing he knows about Kaminari, it’s that he’s always hungry.
“Okay, that was a lie, but I’ll be fine,” he says, shooting him a reassuring smile alongside his signature finger guns. But Hitoshi wants him to be happy, not just content.
“I mean, there’s still other food if you want to risk it,” Hitoshi suggests cautiously.
“I could actually really go for a corndog,” he admits.
“Okay, but I’m pretty sure I’ll die from embarrassment if I cause you to get food poisoning twice.”
The two people in front of him have stopped looking at the sign and walk off. They step forward to fill the space.
“I mean that’s not really up to you is it?” he replies cheekily.
“Okay, but you’re taking your life into your own hands,” he warns, paying for a corn dog and hoping beyond hope that this one is safe. They sit down at one of the wooden picnic tables, the least sticky one they can find. He traces circles into the knobs as Kaminari leaves to grab a handful of napkins.
“Um-” Kaminari starts, voice sounding oddly tight as he returns to the table, “Do they use peanut oil to fry here?” The corndog in Kaminari's hand is now drizzled in lazy swirls of ketchup and mustard, almost like condiment lightning bolts. There's already a bite taken out of it.
“I don't know. I've never really thought about it,” he answers.
“Number one, they definitely do. Number two, I may be a tiny bit allergic to peanuts.”
“Oh my God.”
The trip to the hospital is a little blurry, and before he knows it, he’s wedged into one of those uncomfortable waiting room chairs, sitting with his feet dangling over the armrests in a way that can only be explained by how painfully gay he is.
He sits in the waiting room for hours. First, he tries playing games on his phone. He catches up on Neko Atsume. He plays that one string based strategy game Mina convinced him to download. He scrolls through his phone and frees some storage. But he can't quite stop his hands from trembling or his eyes from sliding to the clock face. He opens his messaging app.
There's not many messages there: a few spam messages, some texts from Dad, Mic, and Mirio. There's a few from Mina and Mei. And a long string of annoyed messages from Monoma. And then finally, the name he's looking for: Midoriya.
It's not that they know each other particularly well. But after their last battle before Hitoshi joined the hero course, Midoriya had offered his number almost immediately. He really hadn't intended to text him, but as it turns out, their sleep cycles are pretty compatible. So sometimes, when the night grows long, they talk: about hero work, about school, even about life on occasion. It turns out Hitoshi isn't the only one with insomnia. He's just the only one who looks like he's wearing a Halloween costume year round. Genetics are stupid like that. Some people can not get a wink of sleep and look cheery and energetic all the time, whereas some people miss a few hours and look like their undereyes are lavender tea bags glued to their face instead of skin.
Still, Midoriya was really the only one who knew about the date. Well...and Mina. But he didn't exactly want to be murdered by Mina for accidentally almost murdering her best friend with a corn dog. Not after he'd gotten this far.
Midoriya:
SH: “so i may have killed our classmate”
MI:“What?!!!!!!! This was supposed to be a date! I hope you mean with affection!!”
SH:“no i mean with a peanut allergy”
MI: “Shinsou!! Is he ok???”
SH: “i don't really know but we got to the hospital pretty quickly”
MI: “Do you need me to come down there? I can come down if you need me”
SH: “no it's fine. i just needed a distraction”
MI: “Ok I'm going to link you a ton of hero articles I think you should read ok? There's a new article about pro hero Backdraft and-”
Hitoshi watches his phone fill with text and links. A wave of relief hits him. The waves of text flooding in front of his eyes make it very hard to think of much else. He quickly loses track of time until he spots a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. He looks up to see Kaminari finish signing a form and walk over.
“Shit, are you okay?”
Kaminari looks up at him a little tiredly. He smiles brightly. “Good as new.”
“I am SO sorry for almost killing you.”
He laughs lightly. “Please. That's a typical night with the bakusquad. This is hardly the worst injury I've sustained for the sake of fun. You're coolio,” he says, shooting him finger guns.
“Okay, let's get you home then.”
“Wait wasn't there a second part to our date?” Kaminari asks.
“I mean, yeah, I had planned more, but you really should be-”
“Is it still open?”
“Well yeah but-”
“Please, Shinsou?” he says, pouting slightly, “The doctor said I'm fine to do stuff. I really want to continue this date.”
Hitoshi hesitates. “Well okay, if you're sure you're up for it.”
“Of course. What's the worst that can happen?”
Hitoshi rolls his eyes. “Don't tempt fate like that.”
“Pffft you don't believe in fate,” Kaminari scoffs.
“Well I'm starting to and starting to believe it's against us specifically.”
“Don't be a spoilsport!”
“Fine. Let's go,” he sighs.
They walk there. It turns out, in an odd twist of luck, that the hospital is even closer to the rink than the ice cream shop was. Hitoshi tries to focus on the cold, the bite of the air, the way it scissors through his coat. He tries not to think about what could go wrong. Of course, he doesn't succeed, but trying has to count for something, right?
They reach the rink, and Hitoshi opens the door for Kaminari. It's not something he'd usually do, but he figures with their luck today, Kaminari would probably smash his face in the door or something.
The stark contrast hits him immediately. It's almost surreal how dim the lights are for mid day. The room glows a soft pink in some places, a soft violet in others. The corners tinge blue. Little white circle lights dance across the walls, the floor, the ceiling. The floors themselves are the tackiest thing he's ever seen and he's seen Aizawa's casualwear. His eyes trace the carpet's geometric pattern, chaotic yet ultimately uniform.
The place is almost empty, being that late afternoon is not the most happening time for skating.
“Ooooo, we're going skating,” Kaminari exclaims, clasping his hands together happily, “I've always wanted to go, but I've never been.”
Hitoshi feels a breath he didn't know he'd been holding slip out.
“Yeah, it's some good exercise,” he says and immediately curses how stupid it sounds. Thanks Mirio .
They wriggle out of their shoes and walk up to the counter in their socks. They exchange the shoes for skates in their sizes and sit down to lace them. Kaminari only takes a few seconds, but Hitoshi needs to pull every string tight. The tighter the shoe, the better the control. That's at least one thing he learned from gym class. “Sorry I'm taking so long,” he mutters, hyperaware that Kaminari is sitting beside him on the bench, fully ready to skate, so close he can feel the warmth emulating from his body.
“You're fine, man. I'm not in any rush.”
“Okay,” he says quietly, but he's not sure he believes it. He tries to speed up, but his hands feel clumsy, and his heart is thwacking against his ribs. He takes a deep breath to try and quiet the boxing match going on in his chest.
“Oh fuck, I just realized I have to pee. Guess I should have thought of that before I laced up,’” Kaminari says, reaching down to unlace his boots. Hitoshi watches his fingers fumble with the bright orange laces.
“Do you want me to wait for you?” he asks hesitantly.
“No. You go skate, and I'll catch up.”
“But what about your skates?”
“Don't worry, no one's gonna steal a pair of rented skates. You worry too much.”
Hitoshi watches him slip a foot out of the skates and set his glowing white-socked foot on the carpet. He wiggles out of the other one and starts walking towards the bathroom sign.
Hitoshi sits on the bench for a moment, nervously drumming his fingers against his leg. Should he go? I mean, Kaminari said to start without him. He feels a little weird about it, but he pushes out a skate. There's an odd resistance to the carpet fibers as he skates to the rink entrance. Hesitantly, he steps out.
His first few movements are clumsy, unpracticed, but he soon remembers the right motions. He picks up speed and crosses his leg over as he hits the second turn, thrilled to find no resistance in the turn. His ears fixate on the consistent whirl of skates weaving in and out. He doesn't even have to lift his feet. He suddenly gets why people come here despite the tacky floors and the old music. He feels like he's flying.
After a few laps, he finally notices a bright shock of yellow hair and starts to slow down. It's Kaminari, looking slightly ill and leaning against the wall as if it held Bakugou's cooking, all the pretty geodes, and good math grades. He heads toward Kaminari when he suddenly remembers one very important detail:
he was never that good at stopping.
He crashes into the wall behind Kaminari, grabbing it just enough to keep from falling. He's sure it looks ridiculous. “You sure seemed to be having a blast out there. You sure skate fast. Do you come here often?” he says, waggling his eyebrows for good measure. His teeth glow under the blacklight. I knew his teeth were too blindingly white to be normal.
“I've only skated before in gym.”
“Damn, you're a natural,” he replies with an odd look on his face. If Hitoshi were a more confident person, he'd say it was admiration.
“What about you?” he asks, “First time?”
“Nooooo,” Kaminari says with narrowed eyes. “How did you guess?”
“Well, there's the fact that I thought this date was between you and me, not between you and the wall,” Hitoshi says with a smirk.
“I'm sorry, what can I say, Shinsou? I was just swept off my feet,” Kaminari counters.
“Do I have to fight the wall for your honor?”
“It sounded like you already did, from that twack I heard when you came over.”
“Fuck you,” he says with a smile.
Kaminari gasps dramatically, “It's only our 2nd date. Weren't we just talking about my honor?” Hitoshi knows he's teasing, but it still makes him blush a little.
“What honor?”
“You wound me, Shinsou. At least this wall supports me,” he says, clinging exaggeratedly to the ledge. Either that or he's just that bad at balancing. “You know you could always join me and this wall for a threesome,” he says, stumbling along.
Counterpoint: you hold my hand, and I'll keep you from falling, he wants to say, but what if that's weird? What if Kaminari takes his hand, and he accidently lets him fall? He's not confident in his ability to catch him if he does stumble. So he tries to skate next to Kaminari at a slow stuttering crawl. After a minute or so, his legs start to cramp.
He tries to stumble on, but he's clearly grimacing, and he's sure it shows.
“Oh my god,” Kaminari exclaims suddenly, staring at the rink entrance.
Hitoshi stops in his tracks. Or at least he would have had he any stopping skills on roller skates. Because there, entering the rink, is a mutual classmate of theirs: Bakugou Katsuki.
Bakugou, who unfortunately seems to notice their presence immediately and heads right over.
“What are you doing here, fucks?”
“We're on a date,” Kaminari happily replies.
“Eh?” he says, glaring at them both, “Well, stay out of my way.”
He skates off, leaving the two of them in his wake.
“Friendly,” Hitoshi mutters sarcastically.
“He's really not bad when you get to know him.”
“Really?”
“Well, no, I guess he's that bad, but he has good parts too. It's why he's our friend.”
Hitoshi shrugs and lets his eyes trail the retreating figure.
As soon as Bakugou's skates touch down, Hitoshi realizes he has no idea what skating really is. Bakugou's movements are silken as he rounds a corner and pivots so that he's skating backwards, legs criss crossing smoothly, making lattices with his feet. Both him and Kaminari stare blearily at the sight as Bakugou skates a few laps backwards, then one on one foot. Hitoshi glances at Kaminari in dismay only to find the glare returned. “Do you want to-”
“Yes, please. Get me the fuck outta this rink.”
They remove their skates and sit in one of the wooden pizza booths. Kaminari plays with an abandoned straw wrapper. They try and ignore the balled up napkins and soda rings littering the table, the screams of children from the arcade. Kaminari mumbles something, but Hitoshi's ears are filled with loud machine beeps, the kitchen fan, and children's loud voices.
“What?”
Kaminari tries again louder, but the words still sound muddled. Undeterred, Kaminari gets up and scoots into the side of the booth next to Hitoshi. There's enough room for at least 3 grown humans on that bench, yet Kaminari is close enough that their legs touch. It's nice.
“I asked,” he talks directly into Hitoshi's ear, “if you wanted to talk a little or if you wanted to go over to the arcade since it's so loud here.”
Hitoshi shakes the odd feeling of warm breath ghosting his ear canal and assesses the situation. On one hand he'd love to stay like this, physically close and partially hidden from the rest of the world. On the other hand, his heart is still beating a touch too fast from all the scrapes and blunders from earlier, and talking feels heavy and hard to think about. “I saw a claw machine,” he replies, fiddling with his sleeve, particularly the ace pride pin pinned on the cuff.
They ask the arcade employee for a roll of tokens.
Their first stop is of course the claw machine. Surveying the bright array of cheery stuffed animals for anything that stands out, Hitoshi finds his mark: a small sooty-looking kitten plush. It's smushed against the glass wall, beady plastic eyes staring into his own. He's in love. Forget Kaminari. He looks over at Kaminari who's eyeing him with a smirk.
“The cat, huh?”
“Look, you only found out I like cats a few hours ago,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“And yet, you are predictable nonetheless.”
“Let's hope you're as good at predicting this claw machine as you supposedly are at predicting me.”
“Don't worry, lavender sprig. I've got this in the bag.”
The first time, the claw doesn't latch on to anything. The second try grabs the leg. The third latches around the head before weakly letting go.
“Huh, I must not be used to the controls yet,” he says in a mock serious tone.
“Uh huh.”
He puts in another coin and tries again just as unsuccessfully.
“Let me try,” he laughs, grabbing the joystick.
“Hey!” Kaminari squawks indignantly.
They play too long at the claw machine, each trying to successfully snatch the cat plushie. Logically, Hitoshi knows that the machine is so rigged they'll never manage it. But Kaminari is so cute when he's concentrating that Hitoshi is honestly almost willing to let him spend all the tokens on it. Almost.
He opens his mouth to suggest they try another game when Kaminari interrupts his train of thought.
“C'mon Shinsou, I gotta show you what a skee ball champ I am.”
“Are you really? This isn't like the ‘I've got this in the bag’ of the claw machine is it?” Hitoshi says airily, staring fixedly at his fingernails.
“Watch and learn,” he says, grinning wickedly.
He inserts the token, and the balls roll down the side shoot. He grabs one and gently and precisely lets the skeeball fly. It shoots into the 100 space.
Hitoshi snorts. “A fluke,” he teases.
But the truth is he fully believes Kaminari can do it. After all, he's the same person who can ramble to him about geology, play a good game of chess, solve a rubix cube without paying attention, and recite English poetry off the top of his head. A sudden skeeball skill seems like the least surprising thing out of this whole date.
“I'll prove it,” Kaminari says, “Hand me another.”
“Get it yourself.”
“I do everything in this house,” he grumbles.
“That's not what it seemed like when I was doing the laundry last night.”
“You turned all my shirts pink,” Kaminari says, playing along.
“I made them better. You're welcome.”
“You like pink huh?” he says with a smirk.
Hitoshi rolls his eyes, “Blame my dear old dad.”
“It's still so weird to hear you call Aizawa-sensei dad.”
“Just let me have this.”
Kaminari finishes the game with an almost perfect run, only missing the 100 once. The machine spits out a roll of tickets.
“Your turn, sailor.”
Hitoshi steps up to the machine and grabs the ball, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He rolls it gently, and it lobs into the 10 point slot. The next time he lobs it a little harder...at least, the little part was intended. Instead, the ball banks off the machine and heads straight back at them. They thankfully dodge in time(hero reflex perks). Kaminari runs off to retrieve the ball.
“Oh my gosh you're terrible at this. Here, lemme help you.”
Kaminari steps behind him. Hitoshi can feel his chest pressed against his back through a thick layer of coat. A nervous laugh presses against Hitoshi's throat where he holds it tight. Hitoshi’s date grabs his hand where the next ball is resting. Hitoshi is both amused and terribly flustered which he supposes was Kaminari's goal. He feels his heart pounding in his eardrums.
“There's a joke in here somewhere,” Hitoshi mutters.
“Oh, shut up,” Kaminari says with a snort.
He draws back Hitoshi's arm experimentally and pushes forward.
“Okay, just let go at the lowest part of the swing.”
He nods and lets go as promised. It clambers into the 10 point spot.
“I thought you were supposed to be helping me,” Hitoshi says with a grin.
“Hush, you. That was our warm up shot. Watch the magic happen.”
He rolls it straight into the gutter.
“You're absolutely terrible at this.”
“Hey, it's much harder to guide someone's hand than to use your own,” he argues.
Hitoshi shoots him a look.
“Not like that!” He splutters. He laughs, resting his hands on his neck in an placating gesture, “Fine, I'm not helping.”
“This is why the shirts are pink,” Hitoshi mutters.
Kaminari gasps, “So it was on purpose!”
“It was for your own good. Pink looks good on you.”
He smirks. “Ah, so you did it for yourself then.”
“This was an intervention. You need more color in your wardrobe besides yellow. You have an electric quirk. That's just cliche.”
“This coming from a guy who wears mostly grey and black.”
“Yeah, but I'm expressing myself through my lack of color. You, however, are like a bright ray of fucking sunshine.”
“But pink?”
“I like it. Pink is a happy color.” And you make me happy.
“I actually was thinking of incorporating a bit of purple into my wardrobe,” Kaminari says, smirking. Confidence dances in his eyes.
“Oh? And how were you planning on accomplishing that?”
Hitoshi feels Kaminari's hand curl around his own. He brings it up to his chest. Hitoshi can feel the rhythmic pound of Kaminari's heart. The beat is a little fast. Hitoshi wonders if it's always that fast. After all, Kaminari certainly seems to have the energy of a hummingbird, why not the heartbeat? Then again, Hitoshi selfishly thinks it's possible he's playing a role in how fast it beats against his hand. “I wear it here,” Kaminari states smoothly.
His eyes dart up to meet Hitoshi's. Hitoshi can't help but notice how sweet honey-colored eyes are, tinted by violet and pink fluorescent lights and hopes and dreams hanging suspended in a single gaze. He doesn't know how he manages to hold eye contact with Kaminari without melting into the floor, a puddle of silver spun hope.
“Yeah,” Kaminari says, smiling and biting his lip, “this is definitely my color.”
“You are so cheesy,” he says, looking away with a smile, trying to push away that gnawing raw feeling of affection threatening to swallow him whole. It closes in at the edge of his vision, the powerful way it makes his heart clench. It's overwhelming, like bright lights and loud voices and arcade game beeping, so he pushes it down with a deep breath, focusing on the weight of the skee ball in his hand and the rough way his fingers drag across the surface.
They get bored of skee ball after a while and try some of the other games. Hitoshi and Kaminari both kill at virtual motorbike racing. They’re passable at frogger. (Well, Hitoshi is. Kaminari is too eager a button pusher to be good at timing things properly). They play a few luck games, but luck isn't on their side. In the end they end up with one token left, standing in front of the claw machine.
They stare at the machine in reverence, knowing they only have a single shot left.
“Well this is it,” Kaminari notes, “our final attempt.”
Suddenly, a gruff voice joins them: “Get out of the way.” Hitoshi feels the coin being plucked from his fingers before he even has a chance to react. He moves aside at the sudden presence of elbow in his ribs.
The two stand dumbfounded, watching as Bakugou wraps a hand around the joystick. He expertly maneuvers the claw over to the cat, and miraculously, the claw clings to it this time, dropping it neatly in the slot where Bakugou scoops it up and shoves it into Hitoshi's chest. Hitoshi closes his hands around the cat instinctively.
“Don't say I never gave you anything,” Bakugou grumbles, turning to walk away.
“Wha- how did you do that?!” Hitoshi blurts out before his brain can catch up to his mouth.
“There's a trick to it.”
“What's the trick?” Kaminari pleads, curiosity saturating his tone.
“Ha! Like I'm telling you!”
He stalks off, leaving a confused pair in his wake.
“Well, that was a surprise,” Hitoshi says.
“Bakubro can be nice in his own way,” Kaminari says, shrugging. “This is practically his seal of approval.”
“Do I want his seal of approval?” Hitoshi asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Trust me, it's better than not having his seal of approval,” he answers.
“So what do you want to name them?” Kaminari asks, switching tracks, nodding at the small cat plush.
“I don't know. We don't have the best track record for naming things.”
“Eh, no sweat. We can name them later.”
They head over to the prize counter and give the man their tickets. While he weighs them, they glance through the glass cases, trying to find the best prizes. Kaminari goes for a small rainbow slinky while Hitoshi gets a glow-in-the-dark pair of plastic vampire teeth.
Kaminari glances at them, “kinky.”
Hitoshi immediately sticks them in his mouth and gives Kaminari his most menacing smile. He just laughs.
“Shinsou, you're too cute.”
He tries not to smile too much when he takes off the fangs, folding them neatly into a napkin he'd grabbed earlier. They walk back to where they left their skates, and he gives a brief longing glance to the rink. He wishes he'd gotten to fly more earlier. Kaminari startles him out of his thoughts, “One more lap before we go?”
Sometimes he feels like Kaminari has a secondary quirk for mind reading, or maybe just knowing what to say. He always feels a little at a disadvantage. But what else is new.
“Can I go fast?”
“Faster than Iida in heelys,” he replies, smirking.
“Sounds good.”
They lace up their skates again and stumble into the rink a little less clumsily than earlier. Kaminari immediately locks a death grip on the walls, and Hitoshi is flying within seconds.
He maintains his pace, expertly weaving between skaters all while Kaminari slowly trudges along the wall. Plastic glides along linoleum. He feels his legs settle into the rhythm of skating once again. Once Hitoshi is done drinking in the intoxicating feeling of speed, he moves to the outer part of the rink to check on his date. Unfortunately that seems to be right around when Kaminari decides he can manage without the wall and pushes off a bit: right into Hitoshi's path.
Time slows down, and yet he still doesn't have the precious few seconds needed to get out of Kaminari's way.
He feels his body slam into Kaminari's, knocking them both down. And although this isn't exactly new to them, this time there's no soft soil-lined flower bed. This time there's a hard, unforgiving laminate floor. Hitoshi feels Kaminari's body twist unnaturally under his own and tries to spring up as quickly as possible, only the skates leave him stumbling every time he tries to stand. Finally, he scrambles up. “Fuck! Are you ok? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-” he rambles.
Kaminari twitches a little and then moves as if to stand before letting out a cry of pain and collapsing back down. “My ankle!” he cries.
“Fuck,” Hitoshi curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'll call a car to take you to the hospital again.”
Hitoshi reaches for his phone, but he feels a hand tug his sleeve instead, “Please, I don't want to go to the hospital again.” Kaminari scrunches up his face, tears spilling at the corners of his eyes. “Please-I just want to go home,” he says, lip trembling. Hitoshi scans his eyes for moments that feel like hours.
“Okay, but I should at least call a car,” he says cautiously.
“Please, Shinsou, cars are so expensive, and it's not that far. I can walk.”
“It doesn't seem like it,” he replies, skepticism tingeing his voice.
“Well, assuming you help me,” he says, the tone flirty, but with an underlying weariness.
“Well…okay. But if it's too painful, tell me, and I'll call a car.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively, but Hitoshi figures it's the best he's going to get.
They walk a bit, Kaminari's arm slung across his shoulder. The air, which made for such a temperate day earlier, bites as the night descends. They'd had to stop so Kaminari could shrug on his flannel. The street lights, now flickered on, take the ambience of the city and turn it vivid and unreal, shadows swirling with every step forward. It's a slow journey and a taxing one. There's no talking between them, only intermingling breaths. With every meter they travel, Hitoshi’s fantasies of collapsing into bed grow stronger. He starts mentally counting his steps to distract himself from the strain.
“I need a rest,” Kaminari says breathily. They both collapse onto the nearest bench.
Free from the distraction of counting steps, Hitoshi's brain now has the energy to focus on other things: such as how badly he fucked up. It's not a very productive focus, but he can't help but feel his thoughts spiral. Much like skating earlier, he feels a little like he's flying. Only this feels more like falling, falling through a dark endless pit. Frustrated tears gather in the edges of his eyes. The negative feelings press against his trachea, making their home somewhere between his lungs and his stomach. He feels ready to burst with even the slightest breeze.
“I'm sorry. I fucked up! First the food poisoning and now this? I'm so sorry. I understand if you never want to go out with me again,” he says, blinking back the tears that seem all too eager to fall. He stares at the concrete, the thought of looking at Kaminari's disappointed face too painful to stand.
“Hey, Shinsou?” Kaminari's voice calls gently. Hitoshi glances up.
Kaminari deliberately makes eye contact. When their eyes are locked, he reaches down and grabs a rock from the ground.
Hitoshi doesn't know what to make of it. “But the date was awful!” he exclaims.
Kaminari cocks his head sadly. “Babe, this wasn't about a good time. It was about spending time together. Sure it's nice if things go well, but ultimately dates are for experiencing things together. It may have gone awful, but I still want to remember today because I spent it with you.”
He stands still in shock. When he opens his mouth to answer his voice feels small, weak, “So you're not mad at me?”
“What? Hun, of course not.” He links their hands together. Hitoshi blushes at the contact, feeling warm tingles shoot up his spine. It’s so casual, and yet he feels like he's about to pull a full Todoroki and catch on fire.
“It's just…you seem to know so much more about this than me. I'm scared I'm going to fuck this up,” he admits softly.
Kaminari laughs, a loud barking laugh. “You think I know about dating?” he asks.
“Well you sure have a lot more experience than me,” he admits.
“Shinsou, this is my second date. My first was also with you. I don't have any experience either.
The closest I got was kissing a girl back in middle school and then running away and hiding in the bathroom until she left. We never spoke again.”
He rubs the pad of his thumb against Hitoshi's hand comfortingly. “This is new to me too,” he finishes.
“I'm sorry. I just assumed.”
“Why did you assume?” he asks curiously.
“A lot of people our age have dated already. And you're, well, really pretty.” He looks down as Kaminari turns a bright pink. “And the way you talk, the way you flirt with everyone?”
“Shinsou, who asked who out?” he interjects.
“I asked,” Hitoshi answers.
“I'm a coward,” he admits. “I flirt with the people I like but never let them know when I'm actually interested. I never take the lead. I just hope that they do something about it.”
“But like the pet names,” Hitoshi blurts out.
“I just say them…I'm terrified you actually hate them though.”
Hitoshi turns away. “No. They're…fine,” he says, heat creeping up his neck.
Kaminari gasps. “You like them!”
Hitoshi continues to stare at the streetlamp instead of Kaminari, blushing. “Maybe.”
Kaminari squeezes his hand. “Hey, we'll figure this out together? Pinkie promise.”
“You'd have to let go of my hand for that,” Hitoshi says, a small smile creeping up his face.
“Well that's not happening,” he replies immediately.
“You're ridiculous,” Hitoshi says, letting fondness wash over his voice.
“You love it.”
“Yeah I do,” he admits. There's a moment where he could stop talking, but he forces himself to continue, “There's a lot about you I like?”
There they were. Feelings. Out in the open, ready to be smacked down.
“Care to expand?” Kaminari asks, a playful tone to his voice.
He laughs. “Maybe another time, but I'm not going to lie: all I want to do right now is make it back to the dorms and collapse into bed. It's been a long day.” He rubs a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “The rock did remind me though: I think I have a name for this cat.”
“Yeah?” Kaminari prompts with a smile.
“Mica,” he says, “my version of your rocks.”
Kaminari waggles his eyebrows. “That's gay.”
“You are such a hypocrite,” he laughs.
“Yeah, but I'm your hypocrite.”
He smiles at Kaminari fondly, “Yeah, I guess you are.”
When he finally gets home after dropping Kaminari off at Recovery Girl's office (yes, he did make Hitoshi carry him the rest of the way back), he's so exhausted he's tempted to just flop into bed, pull the covers over his head, and attempt to drift off into a peaceful sleep. However, he forces himself to change into pajamas and brush his teeth first.
After completing his routine, he finally shuts off the light and plugs in his phone. Setting his alarm for the day, he opens his messaging app.
Lightning Bug:
“goodnight sunshine,” he writes, a spike of nerves accompanying the message. He sees the three dots dance at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Kaminari is typing. His stomach twists a little.
KD: “Goodnight bby <3”
And when he thinks about it, looking at the stuffed cat resting in the crook of his arm, it really was.