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To be fair, Denki had been trying to fuck Shinsou Hitoshi since before he found out he was in a band. It was just that sweaty guys on an adrenaline high really did it for Denki, and suddenly he was much, much, much more motivated to talk up the purple-haired man in his English Lit. lecture. Sure okay, maybe Operation Seduce Hitoshi wasn’t super morally ethical, and yeah it might sound a little on the objectifying side, but Denki was a man with needs and what he needed was Hitoshi’s calloused hands literally anywhere on his body. He felt like that was a good enough reason to detail an entire procedure in order to woo the man of his dreams. Ashido was on board. Eijirou said his search for love was manly. Hanta said it was probably a bad idea to plan things like that but otherwise he was supportive. Katsuki told him he was a fucking idiot, which was pretty much par for the course. Denki was ready to play the long game; he was an expert in his field.
From a small poster up in the Student Center, Denki discovered that Hitoshi’s band was a cover band called From Detroit With Love, affectionately shortened to FDWL by a surprisingly devoted fan base. It was strange how despite the fact that the band had almost zero self-promoting, it was still fairly popular on the internet, so Denki did what any normal person would do: he joined a relatively intimate discord server for the band. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the server was fan-made, and there were actually no official statements from the FDWL themselves, but on the bright side, the discord posted regular updates on gigs which is exactly what Denki needed.
To his utter dismay, the first four gigs that were officially listed were all at times when either he or his friends had something else to do. The first one was on the same night as Eijirou and Ashido’s anniversary, the second was scheduled at the same time as Denki’s Statistics exam, the third took place during Hanta’s audition for the university band, and the fourth was at the same time as Katsuki’s Calc 3 Exam. Katsuki who, even though he had bitched and moaned about Denki’s obsession for weeks, had become suddenly very keen on attending the concert. Denki was sure that it was solely because he genuinely wanted to see him embarrass himself. As if he could talk, Bakugou Katsuki was the world’s most eligible bachelor until he opened his mouth. Denki couldn’t remember the last time that the man had been on a date, he hardly had room to judge Denki’s dating skills when he himself seemed to scare off anybody within a five miles radius.
But alas, the fifth time was the charm, and suddenly the entire gang had tickets to see From Detroit With Love live in concert. Denki could hardly focus in Lit. anymore; he was too busy gazing longingly at Hitoshi and wondering what he would look like all sweaty and wild-eyed. Hitoshi played bass, Denki wondered what his guitar looked like, wondered how he would look playing it with those long slender fingers and that aloof bad-boy vibe.
It was Friday morning, the day of the concert when Hitoshi strolled into class tragically late and took one of the only remaining seats near the door, which just so happened to be right next to Denki.
“Is this seat taken?” His voice was low. Low, low. Bottom-of-the-Mariana-Trench-and-then-some kind of low.
“Ha-uh- nope. Not taken. Definitely available.”
Hitoshi smirked and sat down, “Noted.”
Is he- oh god is he flirting with me? This isn’t supposed to happen until like… step 7. Denki just nodded but continued to fidget until the lecture was winding to a close, and he realized that he had been blessed with an opportunity and he was wasting it, “I- well we, me and my friends,” Denki stuttered stupidly, “We’re going to your show tonight.”
This gave Hitoshi pause, “Really?”
Denki nodded quickly, “Yeah, we’re all pretty pumped.” He smiled genuinely because it was true. They were all excited for a night out, even Katsuki seemed to be looking forward to it. Realistically, even if Denki wasn’t specifically trying to seduce the bassist, they were all long overdue for a break and it would be good for them to cut loose a little. Ashido’s classes had made her cry almost every day for the past week and Katsuki was so tightly wound that Denki was pretty sure he was one altercation away from literally exploding.
Hitoshi tilted his head a little bit, considering something, and then he grabbed Denki’s wrist and pulled the cap off his pen with his teeth. He then proceeded to scribble what looked like his phone number on the soft skin of Denki’s forearm in blue ink, “You should text me after the show. I could take you guys backstage.” The apples of his cheeks were painted an endearing shade of pink.
Denki’s breath hitched a little and he swallowed hard, “Y-yeah! Yes, I’ll absolutely do that.”
“Great.” The tiny smirk returned, “I’ll see you tonight then…?”
“Denki.”
“Okay, Denki.” The taller man shot him a smile before making his exit from the lecture hall, leaving behind a frazzled Denki in a slightly catatonic state.
“What the hell just happened?”
Denki burst through the door to Eijirou’s apartment, carrying a duffel bag full of every item needed to transform him into the hottest piece of ass ever to walk this earth. It was 6:00 pm and doors opened tonight at 9:30, which means he had three and a half hours to eat, get dolled up, get drunk enough to ditch his nerves, and shuffle all five of them into an Uber XL. The rest of the group (sans Katsuki, who was usually the last to show) was sitting at the kitchen table chatting idly.
Denki raised up his blue-ink stained wrist, “I got his number and we’re going backstage tonight. So if anyone asks you who your favorite blond whore is and you say Katsuki and not me, I’m never speaking to you again.”
Ashido whooped and threw her hands up, “Backstage! Whatever did you have to do to swing that Denks?” She batted her eyelashes and he batted his back, shrugging innocently.
“Exist. I’m precious.”
Katsuki made his entrance right then, bursting through the door like he had somewhere to be. And shit maybe he did with how he was dressed Jesus.
Eijirou whistled lowly and Ashido gasped, “My STARS!”
Bakugou Katsuki, the same guy who scoffed at Denki’s night-out looks, was dripping in sex appeal. He looked like he had been poured into that pair of black distressed skinny jeans, and the silky floral button-up he was wearing was low cut down between his pecks.
“Is that- Did you French-tuck your shirt?”
“Shut the fuck up. I can look nice.”
Denki squinted harder and then raised his fingers up to Katsuki’s face, dangerously close to biting-range, “Is that eyeliner?”
“YES! Fuck, what’s with the twenty questions Jesus fucking wept.” He batted Denki’s hand away irritably.
Eijirou gave him a shit-eating grin, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Bakugou Katsuki is out to get dick tonight.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Katsuki shouted. The group snorted and giggled, but Denki could have fucking sworn he saw a light blush on Katsuki’s face. “I’m not drunk enough for this.” He heard the other blond mutter, and for once Denki could completely agree.
There was something about being buzzed that made the time pass a lot faster than usual. Before he knew it, Mina was calling an Uber and they were all crowding into some poor bastard’s van. Eijirou sat in the passenger seat because he was the only one Ashido trusted to make good enough small talk that the driver would give her account a good rating even if the rest of them were outrageously obnoxious. Denki was once again distracted by how vastly out of character Katsuki seemed to be. In fact, he would almost deem the other man as… nervous.
Denki distracted himself by pulling out his phone and opening up to Hitoshi’s contact.
Me: Headed your way. Good luck tonight!
Hitoshi: Try to get near the front. Izuku puts on a good show.
Denki hummed, “Izuku?”
Katsuki’s head whipped to the side, “What?”
He blinked owlishly, “Uh, nothing. Hitoshi just said we should try to get to the front. He said ‘Izuku puts on a good show’, I’m guessing that’s the vocalist…”
“You didn’t even look at the rest of the fuckin band members?” Katsuki criticized.
“I- No! What? Did you.”
Katsuki scoffed, “’Course I did.” As if it was obvious.
Denki liked concerts. He would say that he went to more than the average student. He really did think he knew what he was in for when the lights dimmed, and the audience was submerged in near pitch darkness. There was a testing thrum of deep reverberating bass and the crowd went nuts, screaming like banshees at the very first chord. Some pre-recorded, slightly distorted audio echoed through the house, upbeat and a little angsty. The lights shone into the crowd, never settling on one spot and only giving the faintest indication of people situated on the stage.
A single, orange spotlight from backstage backlit a lithe figure, whose voice rang out into the audience.
You know how to keep me waiting
You know there’s a call that you missed
You know that I get impatient
You know that I saw that shit
The lights were still craftily situated, silhouetting the singer’s figure tauntingly. Denki was nearly trembling with anticipation, caught up mercilessly in the excitement of the crowd. The singer tilted his hips side to side with the rhythm.
Got me in my head got me wishing I was with you
God I’m wishing I was with you
The lights shifted- orange, red, yellow, white, and then flash, exposed lighting on lead singer Midoriya Izuku, and the chorus struck like a few thousand volts, jolting the audience up and out. Hitoshi was visible to stage-left, a bemused grin gracing his face as Izuku banged out the chorus animatedly.
I’ll be outside, I’ve been cooped up
Bloodshot eyes need a ride will you pick up
Couldn’t get it right and you’re sleeping on me now
Woke up standing in the middle of the street somehow
Izuku was a beautiful man to the point that Denki (and probably everyone else) was hard-pressed to look away. He was on the shorter side, small and lithe with dark, dark hair that was almost iridescent green under the stage lights. Izuku puts on a good show. Fucking apparently! It had been what? Two minutes and the man had the audience rabid like dogs, screaming lyrics to the song.
Izuku sang with his whole chest like every single word was a part of his body. If you didn’t know better, you would think he wrote the song with how much emphasis he put into it. He sang it with a pointedness that made you think that maybe there was someone out there that he was singing it to.
You’re good at looking at me like I’m see-through
But I gotta see you
I shoulda learned by now
He jumped around the stage, pulling a hand through his slightly gelled back curls and glistening under the stage lights. Who the hell even is this guy? He leaned over the crowd and crouched slightly. He was so close to their stupid little group, who were all going batshit. Katsuki looked like he had just saw God himself, he wasn’t even singing along anymore (did he know this song?). Maybe he did see God himself, where did they even find this guy? Izuku puts on a good show Denki thought to himself once against as he glanced over at Katsuki who might need an air evac by the end of the night.
The song ended and the crowd, once again, went nuts.
There was a faint “I love you, Izuku.” And the singer laughed breathlessly and ran a hand through his hair again, showing a sliver of toned abs under his crop top, showing off what could only be described as a leather BDSM harness. Unreal.
“I love you too! I mean it.” He said easily, and the ladies screamed. Hell, some guys screamed too. Katsuki definitely wheezed, “Thank you for coming, by the way.” The audience chuckled and Izuku smiled sweetly, “Let’s hear it for my band, yeah? Kyouka on guitar-” A girl with dark, cropped hair shredded a candy-apple red Gibson, “Ochako on drums- “He gestured to a small brown-haired girl in a bandana, who hammered out a quick little drum roll, “And Hitoshi on bass, looking bored.” He pouted and Hitoshi flipped him off, earning another chuckle from the crowd. Denki couldn’t help but smile fondly.
Kyouka peeled out a few notes with a much different vibe than the last, guiding them into a slow driving beat of the next song.
I don’t ever wanna pick a slice
One is pretty but the other lies
Chewing on a fat smoke
No filter but you’re puffing
Sucking on a slim Vogue
Dark fingernail polish
Izuku’s mic was back on the mic stand, and he petted up the sides of the metal rod in a way that was borderline indecent. The crowd ate it up and Denki saw Hitoshi roll his eyes.
Shitty old pistola
Shot a bullet through my wallet
Gonna go to Pensacola
Gonna fuck my way through college
Izuku practically groaned the last line and Denki saw Katsuki’s spine straighten like a rod, “Jesus.” He said aloud.
When he wasn’t staring incredulously at the vocalist, his eyes were glued to Hitoshi, who he had never seen so animated before, leaning deep into the chords with his body like he was tearing them out. Izuku would jump around the stage excitedly, interacting closely with both the crown and his fellow band members. Denki couldn’t remember the last time he had screamed so loud that his voice was sore. They flipped from song to song, bringing the crowd up and down and then back again. They showed incredible range, from upbeat alternative rock to low-thrumming folky type songs. Izuku crooned the crowd into submission as he swayed and danced and belted out lyrics with fervor. As the show continued, Denki felt his nerves ebb into something warm and viscous like honey, the kind of chest-trembling experience when you can’t help but take a moment to be glad you exist in that specific moment in those specific circumstances.
Izuku placed a hand on his hips, glistening with sweat and breathing hard, “Well folks.” He panted, “It’s that time of the night.”
There were some boo’s and Izuku just smiled, “I know, I know. But I like this next one a lot so…” He trailed off and the lights went from fiery red and orange to shades of blue and green. Kyouka played a set of chords so crystal clear that Denki could feel it in his lungs.
You’re in the DNA between the molecules
You’re in the bedside place and all else I look
You’re in the subtext and all the overtones
You’re in the telly sales that dominate my phone
Izuku swayed and so did they, leaning into him like he was telling a secret. There was something about the song that made you feel young and in love, which is probably why Eijirou and Ashido were passionately making out behind them. Hanta was swaying contentedly. Katsuki’s eyes were glued to the stage.
We both know that it’s time to go
We both know you’re going to stay
I don’t know why I like you but I do
I don’t know why I like you but I do
Kyouka stepped forward in a brief solo, grimacing slightly like she was concentrating really hard, with Hitoshi behind her grinding out the shady, grittier foundation. Ochako banged out the skeleton of the song with fervor, meanwhile, Izuku looked resplendent, swaying and nodding his head before picking up the vocals again and letting his eyes drift shut, head tilted back and exposing the long column of his neck.
I don’t know why I like you
I don’t know why I like you but I do
Denki was buzzing. Buzzing while the lights faded on, buzzing while the band thanked the audience, and buzzing when the stage was empty, but the crowd was still cheering. He felt like he was listening with cotton balls in his ears through an exceptionally long tunnel. But here he was, finally at step number 10 for seducing Hitoshi. Believe it or not, despite the fact that getting his number earlier that day was not planned, getting backstage to his show was. He was going to see him all sweaty and ripped and hot up close. Weeks of careful planning had led up to this moment: whipping out his phone as soon as the house lights came on.
Me: :o WOW
Hitoshi: Yeah?
Me: Oh yeah, I think I lost my voice
Hitoshi: Still want to come backstage?
Me: Duh!
Hitoshi: Go outside and walk around back, I’ll meet you by the fence.
Denki squeaked, “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. He said to meet him by the fence out back.”
Ashido, who was slightly flushed, pinched his cheek, “Aw! Look at you, all excited.”
Denki glared at all of them, “Be. Cool. This is my life’s work.” He warned.
Katsuki scoffed, “Tch. Why didn’t you just ask him like a regular person?”
“Oh, Katsuki. You dummy. You can’t just ask out a rockstar. These things take time.”
“Whatever. Let’s go find your little boyfriend then.” He muttered, before stalking off, leaving the rest trailing behind him and Denki whining.
“Please, please, please don’t say that in front of him, Katsuki-“
Hitoshi was there, like really right there leaning against the chain-link fence with his hands in his pockets and a leather jacket slung around his shoulders like he was posing for Vogue or something. Denki was damn near vibrating out of his skin, nearly forgetting his mantra of stay cool, stay cool, stay cool. Well, and the rest of the band was there too, except for Izuku for some reason.
“You guys were fucking awesome.” Ashido gushed, waving about her and Eijirou’s interlocked hands.
Hitoshi inclined his head, “Thank you.” He looked over his shoulder, “Izuku is off fucking around somewhere, I’m pretty sure he’s changing or something.” He waved in the general direction of the building, “Uh… a friend of mine is having a little after-party.” Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck, “Uh- If you guys want to go. We have a van and stuff so we could probably all fit.” He almost looked bashful, as if inviting Denki and his friends to a cool after-party wasn’t the essence of his little self-produced college coming of age movie that he was imagining in his head.
Ugh, you’re so cute. How are you allowed to be so hot and so cute at the same time? Denki smiled, elated, “Yeah! We’d love to go.” He looked around to his friends, Hanta gave him a thumbs up, “For sure.”
Ochako tugged on the sleeve of Hitoshi’s jacket, “You guys go ahead and go, Tsu said she would take me and Zuku in a few.” She winked and flounced off towards the dimly lit back door.
“We should go, I only paid for a few hours of parking,” Kyouka commented, hitching her guitar case higher up on her back.
“Let’s head out then.”
Denki, along with the rest of his group, gaped out the front windshield, “Is- this ‘friend of yours’… what does he do to have a house like that?”
“Is he a prince?” Ashido whispered from the backseat.
Kyouka, who was behind the wheel, just hummed, “It’s actually his dad’s house, he likes to do this thing where he throws huge ragers when his old man leaves for business.”
Hitoshi snorted, “Shouto doesn’t really like people. Or parties. He just likes pissing his dad off.”
Hanta whistled, “How did you meet him?”
Hitoshi shrugged, “He used to be in the same major as Izuku, I’m pretty sure they met through class before Shouto changed his major.”
Denki made a thoughtful noise, “Ah, so are Izuku and this Shouto guy like an item?” He watched curiously as Katsuki went rigid in the seat beside him.
Hitoshi just snorted, “No, no. They’re just friends. Besides, Shouto has a boyfriend and Izuku doesn’t usually do that sort of thing.”
Denki blinked at the side of Hitoshi’s face, “Do what sort of thing? Date?”
Hitoshi made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat. Denki was, undoubtedly, surprised. Izuku seemed like a sweet guy, talented too, and it Denki looked like that he wouldn’t even know how to behave. It was a little life-altering to think that the hot lead vocalist didn’t ‘do that sort of thing’.
Kyouka cleared her throat, “He’s not stuck up or anything, he’s just a busy dude. He wears a lot of hats, you know?”
Hitoshi looked almost sheepish, “I didn’t mean to make him sound stuck up, I think you’ll be surprised when you meet him. He’s a lot different in person.”
Katsuki hummed in what sounded like agreement, for some reason.
By now they were parked right in the middle of the lawn for the most offensively expensive looking house that Denki had ever seen with his own two eyes. What kind of guy threw parties just for the sake of pissing off his dad? It was giving him ‘eat the rich’ sort of vibes.
Hitoshi looked back, “You guys ready to go in?”
They all stood in a group mostly, slightly to the left of the throng of dancers on the living room floor. Denki still hadn’t seen the host yet, but Kyouka had very cryptically said that he would know him when he saw him. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but when he looked up at Hitoshi for clarification the other man just nodded sagely as if it made perfect sense.
But when he turned his gaze to the guy walking toward them with a head of half-red and half-white hair, it was like playing the “Spot the main character” game. This was very obviously Todoroki Shouto, leaning on the arm of his very large, very buff, and very excitable boyfriend whose name Denki had already forgotten. Where the fuck do they keep finding these people? It was like someone had went window shopping for models and put them all in one friend group. Shouto was stoic and polite. Not at ALL what he pictured when Hitoshi and Kyouka were describing him as such a rebel. Denki was imagining piercings and black long sleeves and a sneer similar to Katsuki’s. Instead, Shouto was wearing a cream-colored sweater and clinging demurely to the crook of his partner's arm as he welcomed them to his home politely.
Shouto looked around, “Where’s Izuku?”
“He texted me like ten minutes ago and said they were on their way so he should be here soon.”
Shouto nodded, “He probably needed to go change. I don’t think he would want to show up with that Leather Twink aesthetic.” He said, completely deadpan. Katsuki choked on his drink and Shouto spared him a glance.
Hitoshi cringed, “Don’t ever call Izuku a Leather Twink again, I think I’ll have an aneurysm.”
Shouto shrugged and took a drink from his cup, “Whatever you say.”
Denki cleared his throat, “Shinsou says you and Izuku met through class?”
“Yes. We used to be in the same major but he stayed in Engineering because he’s a glutton for punishment.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just being dramatic.” A soft lilting voice commented before Izuku (the man, the myth, the legend) came into view from behind the couple.
“You’re late.”
Dressed in tight, ripped up, acid-washed jeans and a white V-neck, looking so effortlessly attractive that it was distressing, Izuku blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, sorry.” He tucked a hand into his back pocket and smiled at the group, “You must be Hitoshi’s friends.” He said happily, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Katsuki snorted and their eyes locked momentarily. Denki faked a cough.
“Yeah! It was a great show, thanks for letting us come.”
Izuku smiled kindly, “The pleasure is ours, really. We’re glad you came out.”
Izuku was not the sex appeal supernova that he appeared to be on stage. Hitoshi was right, in person he acted much differently. He was kind and very soft-spoken, he also smiled in a way that made you want to squeeze him a little. Denki looked over at Katsuki who was legitimately glaring at the guy.
He elbowed him, “Hey dude, easy on the death glare.” He hissed, trying not to bring too much attention to his friends’ atrocious manners.
Katsuki elbowed him back, “Fuck off. I know what I’m doing.” He muttered back, cracking his knuckles like he was going to fight but he was sort of pink in the face and… oh. OH. Bakugou Katsuki had the hots for Izuku. Well, in his defense everyone did, it was kind of a knee jerk reaction to seeing someone that pretty, but Katsuki was actually going to do it. That crazy bastard. Silly, silly, man. If he wanted to seduce a rockstar he should have spent more time paying attention to Denki’s trials and tribulations and less time shitting on him about it. You know what? Katsuki should crash and burn, serves him right for being so goddamn-
“Deku.” He inclined his head at the other man and Izuku’s eyes widened a little, “Dance?” He said holding out his arm. Denki clucked his tongue. Insulting the guy and then asking him to dance with one word like a caveman? In what world would that-
Izuku blushed and his teeth practically sparkled when he smiled, “Sure, Kachaan.” He replied, slipping his hand into the crook of Katsuki’s elbow like they were headed off for a formal waltz and not some casual grinding on the dance floor.
Denki froze. What? Kachaan? Wait, what? Just like that?? How did he- Izuku just- and then Katsuki- but… What?
He looked around for help, to no avail. All of his friends, Hitoshi and Kyouka included, looked to be in different states of disbelief. The feral chaotic friend of their gang had just swept away the band-sweetheart in literally two words and no preamble. Since when did Katsuki dance? Shouto appeared indifferent as he looked on, taking another long sip from his drink.
The music changed to something a little less grind and a little more caress. Izuku draped his arms over Katsuki’s shoulder, talking animatedly as Katsuki looked on with rapt seriousness. What could they be talking about for Katsuki to look so grave? Politics? He saw Katsuki’s lips move and Izuku threw his head back in a laugh. Katsuki’s hands tightened on his waist and they swayed.
Let’s dance when we're not supposed to be
Can’t stand when you’re not close to me
Damn, can’t believe you notice me, notice me
Hitoshi blinked, “Hmm, that happened.”
“What the fuck,” Denki whispered.
Katsuki leaned forward to murmur into Izuku’s ear as they moved together like it was natural.
Ripped t-shirt, you like the push and the shove
Push harder, ‘cause it fits like a glove
Now I’m angry, ‘cause I’m falling in love
I’m mad, ‘cause I used to hate all this stuff
Hitoshi was splendid, and they talked easily. Yet the night was punctuated with the slow progression of Izuku and Katsuki’s dancing from innocent high-school prom swaying to incredibly intimate grinding off to the side. Katsuki’s hands were poised possessively on either side of Izuku’s rolling hips, and his back was pressed to Katsuki’s chest. They still seemed to be talking but Izuku had leaned his head back onto Katsuki’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
Hitoshi tapped Denki’s glass to get his attention, “Wanna place bets on whether or not they’ll actually go home together tonight?”
Denki smirked, “You’re on, let’s hear it.”
Hitoshi stroked his chin idly and Denki tried valiantly to drag his eyes away from the bulge of the other man’s bicep, “Izuku never takes anyone home. He’s very sensitive and definitely not the one-night stand type of guy.”
“So you’re saying no? I think they will, Katsuki usually gets what he wants.” His face paled when he met Hitoshi’s worried eyes, “Not- Not that he’s a player or anything! He just never does this kind of thing or takes interest in anyone, so I think if he’s in it then he’s in it. You know?”
Hitoshi looked thoughtful and Denki spoke up again, “What’s your prize? What do you win if you’re right?”
Hitoshi smirked but there was still the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks, “If I win? Dinner with you tomorrow night?” Denki’s face broke out into a nearly painful smile and Hitoshi leaned closer, tucking a stray blond lock behind his ear, “And you? What if you win?”
“Dinner and a movie. And you have to hook me up with some free merch.”
Hitoshi hissed through his teeth playfully, “Ah, you drive a hard bargain, Denki. I guess we’ll just have to see.”
Denki cocked his hip and tilted his head, “I guess so.”
All in all, Shinsou Hitoshi couldn’t say he was too upset about losing when Izuku and Katsuki hurried out the door thirty minutes later with nothing but a brief “Bye!” from Izuku and a well-aimed middle finger between Katsuki and his friends. Izuku slapped Katsuki on the chest playfully as they exited, as the blonde threw a casual arm around his shoulders and pulled him snug. Hitoshi had never tasted such sweet defeat.
He cast his gaze over to the captivating blond next to him. He wasn’t sure how many hours in lecture he had spent watching Denki worry his bottom lip between his teeth, but he was lush with the prospect of taking that glistening pink bottom lip for his own. He nudged him with his shoulder.
“So… What kind of movie do you want to see?”