Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shota Aizawa was a professional.

As much as he loved his students and coworkers, he always made sure to keep a strict boundary between his work and his personal life. What he did in his free time was none of his students’ business, even if he took some of that free time in their common space. They’d never asked if he was dating anyone, and he wouldn’t have told them if he had. It was none of their business, and they had an annoying habit of prying into every aspect of his life. Like when they’d figured out his birthday.

So he was a tad annoyed when Hizashi snagged him with a kiss right outside the teacher dorm. And he was even more annoyed when Midoriya walked around the corner right as they were breaking apart.

“O-oh!” Midoriya squeaked. “Sorry, sorry, I can come back later, if, uh, Sensei, I didn’t know, ah, sorry, what’s going—”

Hizashi cut him off with a wave of the hand.

“Don’t worry about it, little listener. Just kissing the homies goodnight.”

Midoriya blinked. His eyes were wide and clueless, like he was actually about to believe that Shota and Hizashi were just friends. “What?”

Shota groaned internally. Joking around wouldn’t help the situation. They should just tell Midoriya and ask him to keep it under wraps. Surely he could manage that, given how long he’d managed to keep One For All hidden even as additional quirks manifested.

“Kissing the homies goodnight,” Hizashi repeated. “It’s an American tradition to make your friends feel loved and safe before they go to sleep.”

Midoriya’s eyes lit up. “Oh! That’s a really nice tradition. And I bet it’s useful for heroes, since good sleep is essential, and of course there’s the high rate of post-traumatic—”

“Did you need something, Midoriya?” Shota interrupted.

“Uh, yeah. The laundry room is flooded and the water is electrified. Luckily, Kaminari was the first one to touch the water, cuz anyone else would have died—”

Shota took off running for 2-A’s dorm.

The rest of the night was occupied with  fixing the laundry room, and Hizashi’s little “kissing the homies” joke was given lowest priority in Shota’s mind. Hopefully, with the evening’s excitement, Midoriya would forget about the whole thing.

Midoriya didn’t wear a watch, and Todoroki didn’t keep a clock in his room, so 11 p.m. snuck up on them every night. They made excellent study partners. Midoriya liked to narrate his notes under his breath and think out loud, and Todoroki liked listening to him.

“I better go to bed,” Midoriya yawned. “Study more in the morning?”

Midoriya was an excellent study buddy, and an excellent person to hang out with in general. He made the tension in Todoroki’s shoulders go away.

“Yes,” Todoroki replied, “that would be nice. And thank you for breakfast this morning.”

“Hey, it’s no problem! My mom used to make American breakfasts all the time, so it was nice to eat one again! I was kinda surprised you liked it, you know, you’re really into Japanese stuff.”

“I like American stuff too. Some of it. I pick and choose.”

He was learning to like things that were unfamiliar to his childhood home. When he got his own place, it wouldn’t just look like where he grew up. He had Midoriya to thank for that and a lot of things.

Midoriya perked up. “Hey, that reminds me. Mic-sensei taught me about an American tradition. Apparently, in America, people kiss their homies good night.”

Todoroki blinked. “That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about America to dispute it.”

“Apparently it’s so your friends feel loved and safe before they go to sleep.”

“That…sounds nice. I don’t remember the last time I went to sleep feeling loved and safe.”

In his family home, the constant presence of his father loomed over him like a building on the verge of collapse. Leaving would probably have been nice if it weren’t for the reason that they moved into dorms. The life of a UA student was a life of vigilance, of fear always lingering on the periphery. It was good practice for being a hero.

“Oh! How about I give you a goodnight kiss!”

“Okay.”

Midoriya leaned over and gave Todoroki a quick peck on the lips. Todoroki felt his cheeks heat up as if he was using his quirk.

“I didn’t know it was on the lips,” Todoroki whispered.

Midoriya shrugged. “That’s what Mic-sensei did, but maybe it varies based on how close you are. I know him and Aizawa-sensei have known each other for fifteen years. Good night, Todoroki!” He gathered up his stuff. “Sleep well!”

“I think I will,” Todoroki replied.

After Midoriya left, Todoroki fell into bed feeling loved and safe, knowing he was counted among Midoriya’s best friends. Only the closest homies got a kiss on the lips.

Momo lay on her bed feeling thoroughly miserable. She’d far overused her quirk in training that week, which had resulted in her body trying desperately to gain back weight, and whenever that happened her period cramps hurt something awful. She was getting better at regulating her own body weight, but it still occasionally resulted in miserable side effects.

She’d already taken some pain medicine, but it hadn’t kicked in yet. She could create a heating pad, but she really didn’t feel like using her quirk. So she settled for the next best thing and texted Todoroki.

>>Could you come to my room and just put your left hand on my stomach?

Todoroki didn’t reply. Instead, he knocked on the door two minutes later.

“The door’s unlocked,” Momo called. No one in Heights Alliance kept their doors locked since Mineta had been expelled. “Come in.”

Todoroki walked in, already in his pajamas and carrying a book. His pajama shirt was just a t-shirt with the words “pajama shirt” written on it. He’d probably borrowed it from Midoriya. Those two practically shared a closet. Either that, or Todoroki kept wearing those All Might hoodies to spite his dad.

“Cramps?” he asked.

Momo nodded. A year ago, it probably would have been weird to talk candidly with Todoroki about period cramps, in her room no less. At this point, though, class 2-A was close enough that the teachers were getting worried about codependency. Not that Aizawa-sensei could say anything about that, considering they all knew Mic-sensei wrote his grocery lists.

Todoroki lay down next to her, throwing one arm over her stomach and opening his book with his free hand. His arm started to heat up, and Momo closed her eyes. It was incredibly relaxing, and she was already getting sleepy.

“I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something,” Momo said. “I’d normally just make a heating pad, but…”

“Quirk overuse,” Todoroki finished for her. “I promise it’s fine. It’s good practice.”

Todoroki had come a long way from giant ice shelves and roaring flames. His precision had grown by leaps and bounds over the past year, so he could heat and cool within a few degrees of a target. He never complained when his friends asked to use his quirk, but Momo still felt a bit guilty for using him like this.

“You shouldn’t push yourself this hard,” Todoroki told her. “Your body is telling you to stop for a reason.”

“I need to get stronger,” she replied. She had to be strong. Her quirk had so much potential, and it would be a waste for her to do any less than her absolute best and more.

“Hurting yourself isn’t worth it,” he replied. “My father used to train me until I threw up when I was just a little kid, and it messed me up. It’s all right for you to put your health over your training.”

“I’m sorry,” Momo said quietly.

“Why? It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize. Just take care of yourself.”

Momo nodded. Mentally, she made a note to get Kirishima to get her in contact with Fatgum, or maybe call up Suneater. Maybe if she could use her quirk more consistently, her body could get more used to the metabolic load.

Todoroki stayed for another hour. At that point, the sun had long since set and Momo’s pain medication had kicked in.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, slipping under the covers. “I think the pain’s gone now. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

And then Todoroki kissed her on the forehead, and Momo squeaked in shock.

“T-Todoroki! That’s terribly forward, and I’m sorry, but I’m—”

Todoroki stared back at her. “It’s a goodnight kiss. For the homies.”

Momo blinked. “W-what?”

“Midoriya says it’s an American custom,” Todoroki explained. “You kiss the homies goodnight to make sure they go to sleep feeling safe and loved. It seemed like a good tradition to adopt, since our class has had trouble feeling safe in the past.”

Momo felt a little foolish. She should have known all about this custom—what use was her international education if she didn’t even know common foreign traditions?

“You’re not having a good night, so I wanted you to feel extra safe and loved,” he continued. “Did I…miscalculate?”

Momo patted him on the hand. “No, not at all. It just took me by surprise a little, but now…yes, I do believe I feel better.”

“That’s good. Good night, Momo.”

“Sleep well, Todoroki.”

Momo went to sleep smiling, pain forgotten. She liked goodnight kisses, she decided.

It was probably against the rules to play J-pop at their preferred volumes, but the girls of 2-A did so anyway. It was fine. Jirou’s room was the ideal place to hang out and blast music, especially since she’d put up noise cancelling panels on some of the walls. If Aizawa-sensei reprimanded them, they’d just go to Mic, who definitely wouldn’t let Aizawa dish out punishment for music.

The boys called it “goofing off” or “girls night,” because they were uncultured idiots. Heroes needed to know how to spend time off for their own mental health, and the girls were quickly becoming experts at fitting the maximum amount of relaxation into the shortest amounts of time. Well, the girls and Aoyama, who served a vital purpose.

“Man, Aoyama, you’re so good at painting nails!” Mina complimented. “I feel guilty, since my acid will probably melt it off tomorrow.”

“It’s about the process,” Aoyama hummed.

“Hey, Momo,” Uraraka said, “how are you feeling? You looked kind of pale yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Momo said. “Todoroki helped me out with his left side.”

“Helped you out, huh?” Mina snickered.

Momo felt her cheeks heat up. “It’s not like that! I’m not interested in Todoroki, not that way!”

“It sounds like he likes you,” Aoyama sang.

“Don’t lie to us, he totally kissed it better,” Mina teased.

“No! Well—yes, actually, he did kiss me—on the forehead! And it’s not like that! It’s an American custom.”

Jirou sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked a little upset, probably because she wasn’t one for relationship drama.

“Todoroki doesn’t seem the type to do American customs,” Jirou said.

“Midoriya told him about it.”

“Yeah,” Uraraka said. “He heard about it from Mic-sensei.”

“Oh. That explains it,” Jirou said.

“Apparently,” Momo said, “in America, people kiss their good friends goodnight to bestow them with safety and love as they sleep.”

Aoyama nodded wisely. “It’s similar in France, but there, we kiss our friends and family good morning.”

“Didn’t you move out of France when you were like, really little?” Uraraka pointed out. Aoyama sniffed and turned up his nose at her.

“That’s so sweet!” Hagakure squealed. “We should totally do that!”

“My parents gave me a goodnight kiss every night when I was still at home,” Tsuyu said. “I miss it a little. It’s hard to believe I haven’t lived at home in over a year.”

Hagakure leaned over and gave Tsuyu a kiss on the cheek. “There you go!”

Tsuyu smiled, and Momo cheered internally. Tsuyu’s smile was so nice.

They concluded the nail-painting, and it was time for them to all head back to their rooms. Before that, though, Hagakure insisted on giving them all goodnight kisses on the cheek before flouncing off to her room. Soon enough, it was just Jirou and Momo.

Before she could lose her nerve, Momo walked over and kissed Jirou on the forehead.

“Sleep well,” she said.

Jirou stared back at her, cheeks red.

“Y-you too,” she stammered.

Momo left with her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t been at all flustered when Hagakure had kissed her, so why was Jirou different?

“Hey, I demand a rematch!”

“Tough, Pikachu. I’m not giving you one.”

“My remote was totally broken!”

“No it wasn’t! I just won! Accept it!”

Jirou grinned triumphantly as she put down the Wii remote. Her and Kaminari were pretty equally matched in quirk training, but at least she could still smoke him in Just Dance.

Midoriya’s focus was unparalleled. He’d been sitting on the couch studying throughout their whole dance battle without looking up once. He was lost in his own little world.

“There have got to be better dancing games out there,” Kaminari grumbled as he reluctantly undid the strap. “Why do we even have a Wii?”

“Considering Mic-sensei bought it and he has a goddamn cassette player in his gear, I’m not surprised.”

He’d found it for ten dollars at a thrift store. Present Mic’s retail decisions were nonsensical and yet always somehow resulted in a good outcome. She’d gone thrift shopping with him a few times, and every time he found some article of clothing that Aizawa-sensei always turned up wearing a few days later. Like the Ganriki Neko crocs. Jirou still didn’t understand those.

Kaminari shrugged. “Well, you’d know better than me.” He looked at the clock. “Oh damn, 11 p.m.” He snickered. “Can you believe Bakugou’s been asleep for like, two hours?”

“Maybe he has the right idea,” Jirou yawned. “We’ve got a test in two days. I’m heading up to bed—that game sure is tiring.”

“Yeah, cuz you have to work really hard to beat me!”

“I could kick your ass in my sleep.”

“Next time, I’m getting the top score!”

“Oh, in your dreams,” Jirou scoffed.

Kaminari laughed. Jirou had a soft spot for him, she had to admit. Not in the way Hagakure kept implying, though. He dragged her out of her comfort zone by the ankles and threw her bodily into doing her best, and they fought side by side like they shared a brain. He was far more than just the dumb kid Jirou had taken him for when they first met.

He was a good friend, and Jirou wanted him to go to bed feeling safe and loved. But she definitely didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

“Hey, Midoriya!”

Midoriya didn’t even look up.

“Midoriya!”

His head snapped up. “Oh, sorry! What do you need?”

“What was that American tradition? The one Todoroki told Momo about?”

“Oh, that! Mic-sensei says over in America they kiss their good friends—their homies—goodnight. To show you care, and that sort of thing. If they’re your best homie, you kiss on the lips, I think.”

Jirou turned back to Kaminari, and was immediately met with a kiss on the cheek. Weirdly, it didn’t fluster her nearly as much as the kiss Momo had given her the previous night.

“Good night!” Kaminari said cheerily. “You’re a great friend, Jirou.”

“I was going to give you a kiss,” Jirou muttered. “Because you’re my homie.”

“Who’s stopping you!”

Good point. Jirou kissed Kaminari on the cheek.

“Finally,” Kaminari sighed, “a kiss from a lovely maiden—”

“Shut up!”

“Hey, wait,” Kaminari said, “I bet Shinsou hasn’t been given his goodnight kiss. I gotta give it to him.”

Midoriya lept to his feet. “Not if I give it to him first!”

The two of them took off at breakneck speed, racing for the fourth floor.

Hitoshi Shinsou didn’t sleep much. He didn’t need much sleep, anyway. He spent many of his nights studying, usually until midnight or later. He had plenty to catch up on if he was ever going to be a good hero. It wasn’t enough to just catch up to the rest of his class. He had to become a hero beyond reproach.

Suddenly, he heard a scuffle outside his dorm, cracking the silence like an egg. It sounded like a stampede of some kind, accompanied with yelling.

“What the hell?” he muttered. At this rate, Bakugou would wake up, and no one wanted that.

He opened his door, and two figures immediately crashed through the open doorway. It took a moment to recognize them.

“Midoriya,” he asked, “why are you here? And why is De—Kaminari in a headlock?”

Midoriya looked up at him with a triumphant smile. “I won the race to give you your goodnight kiss!”

What?

Hitoshi blinked. “That doesn’t explain as much as you seem to think it does.”

“C’mon!” Kaminari complained. “Let me give him the kiss, or I’ll shock you!”

“If you shock me, my muscles will just lock up and you’ll never escape,” Midoriya told him.

Shinsou had never really had two people fight over him, certainly not over a kiss, and certainly not in his room at almost midnight. It was weird. Was this how YA protagonists felt?

“Guys. Why are you here.”

“It’s an American custom that Midoriya told us about,” Kaminari explained. “Giving your homies a goodnight kiss to show that you care about them and want them to go to sleep feeling safe and loved.”

“I’m not even going to bed for a few hours,” Hitoshi told them. “I don’t want a goodnight kiss. You better leave before Bakugou wakes up.” He didn’t even joke about suggesting they give Bakugou a goodnight kiss, because they’d probably try, and then the entire dorm would get blown to kingdom come.

“But you’re my homie!” Midoriya said.

“Yeah!” Kaminari agreed. “C’mon, man. I know you have trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“I think my melatonin will work a lot better than a goodnight kiss.”

“Both won’t hurt!” Midoriya said, turning up the puppy eyes to 11.

Hitoshi sighed. For someone with a control quirk, he sure had a hard time resisting these two. “Fine. One goodnight kiss and then you two are leaving.”

Midoriya immediately shoved Kaminari down, but Kaminari wriggled out of his grip and leapt at his knees, hoping to bring him to the floor.

“Both of you!” Hitoshi declared loudly. “A kiss from both of you. Stop fighting over me.”

“I can’t help it, Hitoshi! I’m not losing you to Midoriya.”

“You make it sound like I’m your husband or something.”

“Do you wanna be?”

Hitoshi pinched the bridge of his nose. It was literally impossible to tell if Kaminari’s flirting was genuine or not. “Just kiss me and go to bed.”

Midoriya got to him first, with a kiss on the forehead.

“Go to bed at a reasonable time, all right?” he said.

Hitoshi rolled his eyes. “Okay, mom.”

“Night!” Kaminari said cheerily. He grabbed Hitoshi by the face and planted a kiss right on his lips. Hitoshi’s eyes widened in surprise, and he was frozen in shock as Kaminari drew back grinning. “You’re my best homie, dude.”

“R-right,” Hitoshi managed to stammer out.

Denki had just kissed him. On the lips. Completely platonically. This was an absolute mess. How the hell was he supposed to parse the flirting now?

“Go to bed,” he told them.

“Night, Shinsou!” Midoriya called as the two of them left.

Hitoshi closed the door behind them and threw himself onto the bed. No more studying was getting done tonight. Denki Kaminari had just kissed him. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. Why did Midoriya have to bring this damn American custom into their class? It was like Midoriya liked making Hitoshi’s life difficult.

He called Aizawa. He’d taken to going to Aizawa for most things. Their relationship was decidedly odd—they were far closer than teacher and student, but Hitoshi wouldn’t go so far as to call him a friend. More like a mentor. Or a weird uncle.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa answered without preamble. “It’s late. You should be asleep.”

“So should you.”

A long pause.

“What do you need.”

“I think Kaminari is flirting with me but I can’t actually tell.”

“I am the wrong person to ask about this. It took me almost five years to realize Hizashi was flirting with me.”

“Which makes you the perfect person to ask. You picked up on it eventually. How did you know he was flirting?”

“Shinsou, you don’t understand. He asked me on three romantic dinner dates without me realizing. Eventually he just told me he’d been flirting. And then I thanked him.”

Shinsou sighed. “He kissed me. On the lips.”

“I’ll be frank with you, that does sound a lot like flirting to me.”

“But it was a platonic goodnight kiss!”

“That’s…not a thing.”

“Apparently it is in America. Midoriya told us about it, it’s called ‘kissing the homies goodnight.’”

To Shinsou’s surprise, Aizawa replied with a vehement and clearly audible “fuck.”

“This is all Hizashi’s fault,” Aizawa told him.

“Uh. How?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Aizawa’s tone was measured, controlled, like he was assessing a crisis. “Is the goodnight kiss tradition causing problems?”

“Actually, no. It’s not his fault I’m a gay disaster.”

“Shinsou, please let me know if the situation gets out of hand or anyone starts feeling uncomfortable.”

“Aw man, I was planning on just hiding any problems from you. Dang.”

“Don’t give me that sass, young man. And go to bed.”

“You also need to go to bed.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ll call Mic,” Hitoshi threatened.

“Fine. We’ll both go to bed. Good night, Shinsou.”

“Good night, sensei.”

Katsuki Bakugou came to breakfast in a bad mood. Eyebags had been a pretty good neighbor until last night, when Katsuki had woken up at 11 fucking p.m. to hear Deku and Sparky crashing around in the hallway. What the fuck? He couldn’t help but glare at the three of them over breakfast. Maybe it was deliberate sabotage. Katsuki needed his sleep if he was going to reach his top potential in training, and they knew that.

Even though Katsuki was always glaring at someone, Kirishima noticed something was wrong right away. Because of course he did.

“What’s got you all angry this morning, Katsuki?” he asked. “It normally takes at least half an hour into the day for someone to piss you off.”

“Deku and Pikachu were stomping around the hallway at ass-o-clock last night,” Katsuki growled. “Outside NyQuil’s door.”

Kirishima immediately joined Katsuki in his glaring. At least he recognized the sanctity of Katsuki’s sleep.

“They were giving me a goodnight kiss,” Shinsou sighed. “Sorry if they woke you up.”

Katsuki blinked. Kaminari and Shinsou—yeah, that tracked, but Shinsou really didn’t seem like Deku’s type, and surely Shinsou could do better.

“I don’t care what you three do in your bedrooms, just keep it down at night!” he said. “I’m not letting your goddamn romantic side plot ruin my sleep.”

Shinsou blanched. “No, no, it’s not like that.”

“Yeah,” Deku agreed. “We’re not dating.”

“It’s just a goodnight kiss for the homies!” Kaminari said in a tone that indicated he thought he was explaining something clearly.

“A goodnight kiss,” Katsuki repeated flatly. “For the homies. What the fuck are you talking about?” He glanced around the table. “This is the stupidest way I’ve ever heard of to cover up a relationship.”

“No, it’s a thing,” Jirou argued.

“Yeah,” Hagakure said. “It’s an American tradition. You kiss your friends goodnight so they go to bed feeling safe and loved.”

A disconcertingly large portion of the table nodded in agreement, and the rest listened with intent interest.

“That’s not a fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki said. “Who told you that? Was it Twinkly? Cuz you know he likes to fuck with you guys—”

“It was Mic-sensei, actually,” Deku told him.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Present Mic was obnoxious and clueless. He definitely didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You know, he spent two years in America early in his career as a pro,” Deku continued. “So he definitely knows what he’s talking about.”

Katsuki sincerely doubted it. There was no way that was an American tradition. Where in America had Mic been, anyway? Probably to the American Virgin Islands or something.

“I’m gonna ask All Might about it,” he said. “He’d know better than Mic.”

“That’s a good point,” Deku said. “Maybe he knows more about the tradition! More stuff we can start doing to support each other!”

“It’s not a real custom, dipshit!”

“Does it even matter if it is?” Kirishima asked. “I mean, kissing the homies goodnight sounds pretty manly whether it’s American or not. I think we should start doing it.”

“It does sound kinda gay,” Sero pointed out.

“We’ve got enough to worry about,” Kirishima said, “without getting all anxious about platonic affection. Besides, we all wear socks so it’s fine.”

“We should totally make it a 2-A tradition!” Mina cheered. “It’ll bring us closer as friends and heroes!”

“It could also help with nightmares, kero,” Tsuyu said. “I know a lot of us have them, and I think it would help if we all feel safe and loved before bed.”

Iida slammed the rest of his glass of orange juice. “So it’s a tactic to cope with the psychological stress of hero work! Part of our education is learning how to manage our mental health, and this could be an excellent lasting strategy!”

“Yeah, you guys get it!” Kirishima said. “From now on, I’m giving all the homies a goodnight kiss!”

“Don’t even think about it,” Katsuki growled. He did not need a goodnight kiss. His sleep schedule was perfect, and he didn’t need to go to bed feeling “safe” and “loved” or whatever the fuck. “I’m going to talk to All Might before class. See you extras later.”

Chapter Text

Katsuki found All Might in the teacher’s lounge, marking some papers. Aizawa and Present Mic were also there, eating matching yogurt cups and talking about some stupid band that Katsuki had never heard of.

“Hey! All Might!”

All Might looked up. “Yes, young Bakugou?”

“Call him ‘sensei’ during school, Bakugo.” Aizawa grunted.

Katsuki ignored him and continued to address All Might. “You know a lot about America, right? Is it true that they kiss their homies goodnight over there?”

Aizawa’s palm met his face at mach speed and Present Mic choked on his yogurt. That was weird. He’d been expecting Present Mic to chime in and insist it was indeed a thing, since he was apparently the one to tell Midoriya about it in the first place. It occurred to Katsuki that maybe Mic was just fucking with them.

All Might stroked his chin contemplatively. “Yes, many Americans do that. It took a bit of getting used to, but I got acclimated pretty quickly to my homie David kissing me every night.” All Might chuckled. “Ah, memories!”

Right. Because All Might and Shield’s relationship had supposedly never been more than platonic.

Aizawa stood up, grabbed Present Mic’s elbow, and dragged him out of the room. Probably to make out or something. They weren’t fooling anyone.

“So it’s a custom?”

“That’s what David told me.”

Katsuki prepared to use his ultimate move, the greatest skill he’d gained in the past year: being patient for like two goddamn minutes. He took a deep breath.

“All Might,” he said through gritted teeth, “have you considered he was hitting on you?”

All Might blinked, dumbfounded.

“W-well, that doesn’t seem like an appropriate discussion to have with a teacher—”

“I know about your deepest secret and your love life is too far? Whatever, it doesn’t matter and I don’t care. Obviously you’re not a reliable source, I don’t know why I even bothered.”

He stormed out of the room.

Midoriya liked to end his nights with a bit of exercise and reading. It helped him sleep, he said—if he didn’t fall into bed absolutely exhausted, he tended to bolt awake from the nightmares. As a consequence, he usually ended up outside on the lawn every night, and his classmates tended to stop by and chat before bed.

When Tsuyu came out onto the lawn, Midoriya was doing push-ups over a textbook. His brow was knit in concentration, and his arms were trembling. He’d probably been exercising for a while.

“Hello, Midoriya,” she greeted him.

Midoriya jumped to his feet, spry as ever, and transitioned into some jumping jacks. “Tsuyu! Are you here to say good night?”

She was homesick. Tsuyu loved her family, and she’d barely seen them for months. There was nothing that could fill that ever-present ache in her chest, but Midoriya had found a temporary fix.

Tsuyu tapped a finger against her lower lip. “I miss my parents, kero. I was wondering if you could give me a goodnight kiss.”

The girls would gladly give her a goodnight kiss, of course, but Midoriya was the undisputed master of the goodnight kiss. Something about the boy just put Tsuyu at ease. Perhaps it was a mix of his terrifying combat skill and overwhelming awkwardness.

“Oh, of course! You’re probably homesick, huh? I’ll race you up the stairs to tuck you in!”

“You’re on, kero!”

Midoriya took off running for the door. Tsuyu didn’t bother with the stairs—her window was on that side of the building, so she simply leaped and started climbing up. She had a keypad lock on her window, since she often entered her room like this. Being a frog had its perks.

Tsuyu vaulted through the window and was waiting on the bed when Midoriya burst through the door. Even Midoriya’s amazing quirk was no match for the power of a frog when it came to getting to the fifth floor.

“I’m pretty sure you could have just made the jump, kero,” Tsuyu remarked. She’d seen Midoriya make some amazing jumps.

Midoriya clapped a palm to his forehead. “I didn’t even think about jumping up the building! I just like to take the stairs too much, I guess. I really should think outside the box more—you use your quirk so naturally to make your way around buildings, which is really amazing, and I should really learn to do that naturally—I’m rambling again, sorry! Anyway. Lie still and I’ll tuck you in.”

Tsuyu lay down on the bed, sleeping cap snug around her ears. Midoriya tucked the sheets around her, then the blankets. He finished off the process with a goodnight kiss to Tsuyu’s forehead. Tsuyu closed her eyes, and for a moment it was like her mom was tucking her in, and she felt at peace.

“Goodnight, Midoriya,” she croaked. “Thank you.”

“Anytime! I always love to tuck in my homies, and you’re one of my best homies. Good night, Tsuyu. Sleep tight!”

“So,” Shota said, deadpan.

“So,” Hizashi repeated. He took a careful sip of his soup. He was pretty sure he knew what this was about when Shota insisted on them having lunch in Shota’s suite, but that didn’t mean he had to speedrun it.

“So my class is convinced that kissing the homies goodnight is an American tradition thanks to you.”

“In my defense,” Hizashi replied, “you were the one who wanted to keep this a secret from the students.”

Shota sighed. “It’s not a problem. Not that big of a problem. I just know that it’s inevitably going to come crashing down and I don’t know what the aftermath will look like.”

“Hey, I think it’s nice! They’ll figure it out. They’re smart kids.”

Katsuki wasn’t sleeping.

His relationship with sleep was a tough one. He kept to a strict schedule, complete with melatonin, because any deviance would cause him to crash back into insomnia and nightmares. Even with all his best efforts, sometimes the past years caught up with him. He did not fear many things, but he did fear his nightmares, because when he was trapped in them he couldn’t fight back. Just like his kidnapping. Just like the sludge villain.

At 22:00, he sighed and sat up. Maybe if he tired himself out, he’d be able to fall asleep.

He could still hear chatter coming from the rooms he passed as he left. Shinsou’s room was silent, but he was definitely still awake. He could hear several voices from Kirishima’s room. His friends often studied late into the night. 22:00 wasn’t that late for them.

Only one person remained in the lobby.

“Are you drinking that straight out of the carton?” he demanded incredulously. “What the fuck, class rep?”

Iida froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I overexerted my engines during training,” he explained. “I would never drink anything straight out of the carton if other people used it.”

“It’s about the principle. You better not let anyone else catch you drinking orange juice out of the carton or they’ll never listen to you again.”

Iida stiffened. “I’m sure I can maintain my authority as class representative even if people know I drink orange juice out of the carton!”

“Whatever.”

“I am surprised that you’re awake. Didn’t you go to bed an hour and a half ago?”

Katsuki knelt down to lace up his running shoes. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m going for a run around campus.”

Iida nodded sagely. “I see you didn’t receive a goodnight kiss.”

“Will you shut the fuck about about the goodnight kisses!” Katsuki yelled. “That’s not a thing!”

“I was also initially suspicious, but everyone seems to be sleeping a lot better since we’ve started distributing goodnight kisses! Perhaps you should give it a try.”

“I’m not letting any of you extras give me a goodnight kiss.”

Katsuki didn’t want a goodnight kiss. He didn’t need a goodnight kiss. He wasn’t like the rest of them. He’d deal with this insomnia himself.

Iida put the carton of orange juice back in the fridge, walked over to the shoe rack, and started putting on his running shoes.

“Do you mind if I join you for your run? I need to run off some of that juice. I may have overindulged.”

“I don’t care.”

How stupid did Iida think he was? Orange juice refueled Iida. He didn’t need to “run off” anything. But the class had a stupid hangup about letting Katsuki go on nightly runs alone. As if he couldn’t take care of himself. Whatever. He didn’t mind the company. Iida would probably outpace him anyway.

The UA campus’s trees were nice and uniform and well-groomed. It was a good thing, too—the fact that it obviously wasn’t a forest kept Katsuki’s hands from shaking as the two of them ran down the running trail that circled campus.

Iida, of course, was faster. And yet he kept pace with Katsuki, slowing down every time he started to get too far away. It wasn’t like they were having a conversation. Katsuki frowned. What was his deal?

“Hey, glasses,” he snapped, “get behind me if you’re going to be a slowass.”

“If you want me behind you,” Iida responded in a tone that Katsuki thought might be teasing, “perhaps you should speed up.”

Katsuki sighed heavily. He wasn’t trying to outpace fucking Ingenium on a run that was just to tire himself out. Besides, the view was nice. He was a secure enough man to admit that their class representative did have a nice ass. Katsuki didn’t spend years violently repressing his sexuality to deny himself watching some nice back muscles.

It was a windy night. The cacophony of the treetops drowned out any sound from the rest of the campus. Not that anyone was making noise this late. But it occurred to Katsuki that, were any other runner to come up behind them on this trail, Katsuki wouldn’t hear them until they were on his heels.

He’d spent years with his quirk as part of his identity, but in that moment, he wished he had Jiro or Shoji’s quirk. Anything to keep someone from sneaking up on him.

It was a stupid thought. No one was going to sneak up on him. UA was one of the most secure places in Japan. So why were his hands shaking?

Iida was getting farther and farther away.

Katsuki had barely a second to yell “Get behind me, asshole!” before it hit. He tripped over his feet as his legs stopped cooperating and caught himself on the dirt with his palms. Two explosions went off, sending him flying backwards, and his back hit the ground.

“Bakugo!”

Katsuki stared at the sky and tried to calm his rapid breathing. It did no good. It was nighttime, and he was in the woods, and he was alone.

No, no, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t alone. Iida was there, by his side, looking down at him with concern.

“Bakugo, are you all right?”

“I’m going to head back,” Katsuki wheezed. “Keep running.”

“I’m sorry,” Iida said. “I should have realized this environment would remind you of the training camp.”

Katsuki’s retort stuck in his throat. His legs were shaking. Fuck. He hadn’t had an attack like this in weeks. Why now? He hated this. He hated that his panic made him weak. In legitimate villain attacks, he would fight until the end, and yet he couldn’t fight back against the ghosts of his trauma.

At least Iida was there. He didn’t want to be alone.

“We should head back to the dorms,” Iida said. “I don’t think it’s good for you to be outside right now.” Iida knelt down next to him. “No one is here but us, Bakugo. You’re safe.”

“I fucking know that,” Katsuki snapped. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Can you stand up?”

“Don’t think so.”

Katsuki expected Iida to keep talking to him, maybe try to calm him down so his goddamn body would actually cooperate with him. Instead, Katsuki squawked in a rather undignified manner as Iida picked him up bridal-style.

“We’re going back to the dorm,” Iida said.

It wasn’t the first time Iida had carried him like this. The previous year, he’d almost gone unconscious in Iida’s arms after fighting Shigaraki. Iida had gotten him out of one of the most dangerous battles of the decade. Katsuki could trust him.

“Just keep breathing, all right? Focus on my voice,” Iida continued.

It was an easy voice to focus on.

“I’m fine,” Katsuki insisted. “It’s just my fuckin’ body that won’t cooperate. You can put me down.”

“I’m sorry, but I won’t do that until we’re in a safe location.”

“This is UA! It’s a safe location!”

“I get the feeling you don’t feel safe.”

Katsuki couldn’t argue with that. The only thing keeping him from spiraling into panic was the fact that he wasn’t alone. Iida was a competent hero who would never leave him behind.

One year ago, he would have pushed himself out of Iida’s arms. But he couldn’t be strong enough alone. For heroes, strength came not just from themselves, but from those they built a bond with. He could have the speed of Ingenium simply by accepting his help.

They ended up back at the dorms rather quickly. Iida didn’t even take off his shoes when they entered. Instead, he set Katsuki down on the couch.

The dorm was safe. It still smelled like cookies from Sato’s baking. The common are was empty, but Katsuki knew that above him was a whole class of heroes that had seen more action than some pros.

He was safe. He had all their strength—they would run down if anything happened.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Iida said.

“Don’t bother,” Katsuki said, toeing off his shoes. “I’m fine now.”

His legs still didn’t feel steady enough to stand, but Iida didn’t need to know that.

“Your hands are shaking.”

Katsuki curled his hands into fists and threw an arm over his eyes. He felt the cushion dip as Iida sat down next to him.

“You know,” Iida said, “I still have trouble going into dark alleyways. My hand starts hurting, and my heart starts racing. There’s no shame in it.”

“Well, you actually almost died,” Katsuki replied. “I wasn’t in any danger. They didn’t even lay a finger on me.”

“It’s still trauma. Helplessness can often be far more scary and traumatic than injury. When I have nightmares about Stain, they’re never about the times he stabbed me. They’re about how it felt to be paralyzed as I watched Midoriya almost die.”

Every pro hero had near-death experiences. But being a student came with a unique set of shared trauma—the trauma of helplessness. Almost all his classmates had experienced a terrifying moment of being unable to help someone else. Kirishima in middle school. Midoriya against the sludge villain. Kaminari when he first faced villains at USJ. Mina against Gigantomachia. Iida in Hosu. Katsuki’s kidnapping. And those were just the ones that Katsuki kept thinking about.

And yet.

Mina and Kirishima had covered each other’s failures. All Might had helped Midoriya. Jirou gave Kaminari the courage to fight. Their classmates had come for Iida and Katsuki, even against the orders of pro heroes.

As long as he had them, Katsuki would never be truly helpless.

That, he realized, was what the goodnight kisses were. Not a tradition, but a promise.

“Hey, Iida?”

“Hm?”

“Never mind.” Katsuki sat upright. His legs were steady. “I’m going to bed.”

Iida perked up. His normally well-combed hair was hanging in endearingly messy waves, and his eyes were tired. “I’m glad you’re feeling all right! Ah, that reminds me. Would you like a goodnight kiss? I do consider you one of my homies.”

“Fine. But if you tell anyone I’ll throw you off this building.” Katsuki had a reputation to uphold. He wanted to refuse the kiss, but he also wanted to get some sleep.

Iida took him by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead.

“Good night, Bakugo. I hope you sleep well. “

“Night, glasses.”

Chapter Text

“Bro,” Tetsutetsu said, “you weren’t lifting that much today. You good?”

Kirishima stretched his arms above his head, holding his fingers and leaning from side to side. Stretching after workouts usually took a full half hour—if he wasn’t vigilant about it, his doctor had warned that he’d lose flexibility over time. His quirk could make him stiffer then Iida.

“Yeah,” he yawned. “Just didn’t sleep well last night. I was out shopping for protein powder and missed the goodnight kisses.”

“Goodnight kisses?” Tetsutetsu repeated. “Bro, you got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Or both?”

Kirishima laughed. “Nah. It’s just an American tradition Midoriya taught us about. Apparently over there, they kiss their homies goodnight.”

“Bro!” Tetsutetsu exclaimed. “Why haven’t you been giving me goodnight kisses?”

Kirishima blinked. “You never asked. I guess I just assumed that Pony would have told you about it last year.”

Tetsutetsu shook his head. “Nah, she never mentioned anything like that. Well, maybe she did—her Japanese wasn’t that great. Yo, you gotta tell me all about it!”

And so Kirishima did. He told Tetsutetsu all about how they’d talked about it over breakfast. Ever since, he had usually been the one to make sure all his friends got goodnight kisses, and he knew Midoriya was doing the same.

“He’s a stand-up dude,” Kirishima told Tetsutetsu. “Bakugo thought it was a prank or something, but Midoriya wouldn’t do that. I believe him, and it’s a great tradition, too.”

Tetsutetsu nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I can totally see that helping everyone get closer as friends and warriors! I gotta tell my class about it. Everyone’s got mad trauma, yo.”

Kirishima nodded in agreement. “Yeah, bro. I’ve had less nightmares since I started giving out goodnight kisses.” He fist bumped Tetsutetsu. “I’m gonna head back to do my math homework. See you tonight.”

That evening, Kirishima received a text from Tetsutetsu:

>>Bro come over and give me a goodnight kiss

Kirishima replied:

>!!!!!omw!!!!!!!!

Yeah, it was an immediate reply, which Mina had informed him was “desperate,” but Kirishima had been waiting for the text.

He leapt out of his bed and ran down the stairs, then burst into the cold night air. His card let him into the 2-B dorm, where several students sat around the common table yelling over a game of Monopoly.

Kendo, who was holding Monoma in a headlock, looked up and smiled at Kirishima as he entered.

“Hey, Kirishima!” she greeted. “How’s it going?”

Kirishima grinned at her as he walked past. Kendo was always friendly to class 2-A, unlike many of her classmates.

“Going great! Just going upstairs to give Tetsutetsu his goodnight kiss.”

“You guys are dating?” Awase blurted. “Man, he never told me that!” He looked pissed.

Kirishima laughed. “Nah, it’s just platonic. It’s an American tradition—apparently, over there, they kiss their homies goodnight. So we decided to start doing it to help bring us closer and help manage the stress of being hero students!”

“Pony never mentioned anything about goodnight kisses,” Yanagi said. “I’ve studied some American culture, and it never came up.”

“Bro, Midoriya told us about it. Would Midoriya lie?”

“That’s a good point,” Yanagi said. “Where’d he hear about it?”

“Mic-sensei.”

“Okay, now, Present Mic would lie,” Honenuki said. “That guy’s an enigma.”

Well, Honenuki had a point. When he first came to UA, Kirishima had seen Present Mic as just some goofball teacher who tried too hard to make class fun—a good teacher, certainly, but not one with a lot of depth. And then the report from the war had come out, and apparently Present Mic had come closer than anyone to killing Shigaraki. When Tokuda leaked the Commission Hero Threat Assessment list, Present Mic had made number five.

Present Mic wouldn’t intentionally lead them astray, or lie during class. But he might make an easily misinterpreted joke, or even just fuck with them. Kirishima, however, did not have the braincells to determine which was which.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kirishima said with a wave of his hand. “It’s still a good tradition, and I like it! I think it helps us!”

“Ha!” Monoma crowed. “So you’re resorting to foreign aid to help you get a leg up on us? You’re practically admitting weakness!”

“Do you want a goodnight kiss?” Kirishima asked. “Cuz I’ll give you one if you want.”

“I don’t need a goodnight kiss from you! I can get a goodnight kiss from anyone I want. Just you wait, Red Riot. Class 2-B is going to become the best at goodnight kissing, and you won’t stand a chance!” He burst into laughter.

Kirishima just shrugged and continued up the stairs. Amid the burning of cities and the eruption of wars, Monoma Nieto’s cackling competitive spirit would at least remain a constant. As he went up to the second floor, he heard Kendo asking Yanagi if she wanted a goodnight kiss. He smiled. He’d love for Class 2-B to start kissing each other goodnight. They’d had a rough time of it—they were right at Class 2-A’s side in the war, and yet were often overshadowed. Kirishima could see why that had resulted in jealousy from Monoma and much of the rest of the class.

He had a feeling that, one day, Class 2-B would be grateful for such a shadow.

Maybe Tetsutetsu would be the gateway to a greater bond between the classes. Maybe 2-A and 2-B could kiss each other goodnight, and Kirishima would gain even more homies. He grinned. Yes, that would be great. He could totally get Midoriya on board—Midoriya wanted to make as many people feel safe and happy as possible, and attracted friends like water attracted ducks.

Tetsutetsu’s room was on the fourth floor, in the same place as Kirishima’s. The door was already open, and Tetsutetsu was in bed with his blanket pulled up to his chin. Kirishima knocked on the doorframe.

“Bro,” Kirishima said, “I’m here to give you a goodnight kiss!”

“Bro!” Tetsutetsu cheered.

Kirishima bounded into the room and planted a kiss on Tetsutetsu’s forehead.

“Sleep tight!” Kirishima said. “We still on for a run tomorrow morning?”

“You got it, bro.” Tetsutetsu leaned up and kissed Kirishima’s cheek. “I’m totally gonna beat you this time.”

“No, I’m totally faster!”

Every single one of their Thursday morning runs escalated into a race, and every single one of them ended in a draw.

There were plenty of places to eat lunch on the UA campus if you looked for them, but Iida and his friends still preferred the cafeteria. It was the buzzing, beating heart of the school, where all the years and classes ate as one, all in good humor thanks to the good food. Even though the tables could be a bit crowded, their table was always empty—they’d sat in the same place for over a year, and Midoriya’s stand against Shigaraki at the end of the previous year, while not enough to make him super popular, did make people leave his spot alone out of respect.

The downside to this was that everyone knew where they were during lunch, and that meant they had to contend with Monoma, who never missed an opportunity to stroll by a 2-A table with some snide jab.

“Uh oh,” Uraraka said, sing-song. “Monoma alert!”

Iida barely had time to swallow his mouthful of rice before Monoma appeared behind Tsuyu with that eternal grin.

“You seem well-rested,” he sneered. “Well, I’m well-rested too! You tried to hoard the secret of the goodnight kiss from us, but we are simply too crafty for you! Ha! This is why class 2-B is so much better than class 2-A!”

Iida looked at Midoriya with a raised eyebrow. Iida had trouble parsing tone, and was still not quite sure if Monoma’s attitude was an extended comedic bit. Usually he counted on Kaminari to interpret social situations for him, but Midoriya would do as well.

“Oh, are you guys doing goodnight kisses now?” Midoriya asked cheerily.

“That’s great!” Uraraka said. “How’s it working out for you?”

“Don’t patronize me!” Monoma ordered. “I can see right through you.”

He rested his elbow on Todoroki’s head. Todoroki didn’t react. Iida wasn’t sure if he’d even noticed. He just kept slurping his noodles. Midoriya gave Todoroki a glance—to him, that slurp probably carried great significance and meaning.

“Monoma, is there a point to this monologue?” Tsuyu asked. “You better leave before Kendo shows up, kero.”

Monoma turned pale and quickly moved on.

“What was that about?” Iida asked.

Midoriya shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t even think to tell Class 2-B about the kisses—man, I should have!”

“I bet it was Kirishima, kero,” Tsuyu said. “2-B was bound to start doing it. Monoma just makes everything weird.”

And thus began the kissing competition.

Over the next week, Monoma would randomly interrogate 2-A students on whether or not they’d received a goodnight kiss the previous night, and laugh maniacally if they hadn’t, crowing that him and Tetsutetsu had personally made sure that every 2-B student who wanted one had received a goodnight kiss.

This, of course, awoke 2-A’s competitive spirit.

Midoriya, Kaminari and Kirishima took over the duty of making sure no forehead went unkissed, and administered goodnight kisses to anyone who didn’t already have a best homie doing so. Jirou dubbed them the “spotlight smooch squad” in a tone that was either affectionate or incredibly derisive. No one could tell except Bakugo, and he certainly wasn’t offering any insights.

Midoriya had commented that Bakugo was receiving a goodnight kiss when Momo asked, but she had no idea who he was letting give him one. Probably Kirishima. Well, maybe not, since Kirishima was Bakugo’s best homie and would therefore go for the lips.

Aoyama, meanwhile, had taken to kissing Midoriya on both cheeks every morning, then looking at a random wall with an enigmatic grin. No one knew what he was looking at.

According to Kendo, who could generally be counted on as a reliable source, 2-B was giving them a run for their money. Apparently Fukidashi had made Tetsutetsu and Monoma little badges that said “Kiss Koordinator”—in English, of course, since it was an American tradition. Shishida was attempting to earn the title of “Deputy Kiss Koordinator,” since he was gifted with spreadsheets. Uraraka tried desperately to maintain a tough image for their rival class, but started giggling every time she envisioned Shishida with his furry beard and big fangs offering a genteel kiss to a classmate.

Ever since they’d fought side by side at the war, though, competition with Class 2-B had been accompanied by camaraderie, and plenty of kisses were swapped between classes. Kuroiro liked to swim through the campus shadows to offer an especially goth kiss to Tokoyami. Kendo and Kodai gave and received goodnight kisses when they accompanied Momo to girls’ nights. Tokage had started using the goodnight kisses as a quirk exercise by levitating her head over to the 2-A dorms to try to sneak up on Bakugo and kiss him on the forehead. It never worked, and it scared the hell out of everyone.

Class 2-B claimed that they were only doing it as part of the competition. They were outshining class 2-A by going Plus Ultra and expanding the goodnight kisses beyond their class.

Some knew better, though.

Naosu Jiyoda felt like a stranger in his class sometimes—they’d had a whole year to bond, fight and learn together while he’d been overseas in America. But that distance also gave him clarity. He hadn’t been mired in the competition between the classes for a year, and so he saw it for what it was—the fledgling steps of trust.

All heroes needed rivals to push them to greater heights, after all.

He called one of his American friends and explained the situation, and after laughing for a solid minute, Raphael informed him that goodnight kisses were not, in fact, a thing in America.

Naosu kept this information to himself.

Chapter Text

While the most dangerous villains from the previous year’s Tartarus breakout had been put back in custody, there was one particularly problematic one still on the use. Her name was Contagion, and while her kill count wasn’t nearly as high as many other villains, she was an absolute pain.

See, Contagion had the power to create diseases. They only lasted two weeks, but in that time they could sweep through a community, bringing people to their knees with what was basically an advanced cold. She’d laid low for the past year, and the heroes had thought that maybe she’d turned over a new leaf in hopes of avoiding recapture.

And then Aoyama ended up with a sniffly nose, congested throat, and telltale purple tinge to the eyes after bumping into a woman in the convenience store. He didn’t start showing symptoms until after he returned, and thankfully, he was enough of a diva that he immediately started self-isolating and called Recovery Girl, who identified Contagion’s quirk.

UA was immediately locked down that Sunday.

The students all sat in their dorms, school-issued computers open to Zoom. Because it was an online class, Aizawa was broadcasting from his couch, wrapped in his sleeping bag. His face was grainy and barely visible in the dim light of his dorm.

“Everyone is to stay on campus,” he said. “Absolutely no interaction with anyone off-campus. We’re delivering masks to your dorms—wear them whenever you leave your rooms. Don’t touch anyone’s bare skin. We don’t know yet how this one spreads. If you feel any symptoms, immediately isolate and call Recovery Girl or the viral response team. Try to interact with as few people as possible.”

“This sucks,” Mina complained. “So we can’t like, hang out in the common room anymore? Sensei, that’s so unfair!”

“Suck it up,” Aizawa deadpanned. “I was in my last year of middle school in 2020 and I made it through. You can handle two weeks. I trust that, as aspiring heroes, you all can have the prudence to keep each other safe.”

The rest of the class, consigned to their little panels of screen, expressed a range of emotion from frustration to excitement. A quarantine was at least something new, even if it was because of a villain attack.

Kaminari, however, was not excited. His class tended to think he was stupid, but he’d made a deduction that no one else seemed to have reached.

He unmuted his mic.

“Sensei,” he said, “if we have to wear masks around each other, and keep in-person interaction down, and stay in our dorms…doesn’t that mean we can’t kiss the homies goodnight?”

The class looked horrified as they caught up to Kaminari’s insight.

“That is correct,” Aizawa confirmed, and every little screen displayed an expression of revolt. If they were all unmuted, Kaminari had no doubt he would hear a lot of yelling. “Absolutely no kisses for the homies under any circumstances until quarantine is lifted.”

Kaminari looked at the faces of his friends. Sero, Mina, and Jirou looked crestfallen. Kirishima seemed like he was about to cry. Shinsou’s expression hadn’t changed. Bakugo was smirking.

“This is worse than Gigantomachia,” Midoriya said. “At least after that we still had the option to kiss the homies.”

“Yo, didn’t you and Bakugo—” Kirishima began.

“I was on so much fuckin’ morphine!” Bakugo yelled so loudly the audio was blurred by his mic. “Nothing I did in the hospital can be held against me!”

He said something else, but that was when Aizawa muted everyone.

“It’s just two weeks,” he said. “No kisses. I’m sure you can find other ways to bond. Plus Ultra or whatever. In the meantime, hero training is on hold and all classroom courses will be online starting tomorrow. Have a nice day.”

The meeting ended, and Kaminari sat in shock, staring at his computer screen. Oh no. All online classes? Kaminari hated online classes. As if it wasn’t hard enough to focus in person, now he had to focus on a screen? And he didn’t even get any kisses from the homies.

Predictably, his phone lit up with notifications from all the groupchats he was in. In the class group chat, Iida had linked several pages of quarantine guidelines and reminded everyone to stay six feet apart. Shinsou had replied with a cat reaction image. In his friend groupchat, Bakugo had said “finally you people won’t be bothering me to give me a fucking goodnight kiss.”

Kaminari groaned and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. It was going to be a rough two weeks.

While Zoom was the application of choice for the teachers to deliver their classes, the students just did everything over Discord. The day that quarantine started, Kaminari made a Discord server for the class, complete with multiple voice channels.

It wasn’t a substitute for human interaction, but it was the only way Midoriya could see Aoyama’s face. He’d kept his camera off during Monday’s classes to keep people from seeing his puffy eyes, runny nose, and death-pale face, but had agreed to a one-on-one video call.

He was nestled in a mound of fluffy-looking pillows and blankets, with just his face peeking out.

“How are you holding up?” Midoriya asked. “Feeling okay?”

Aoyama sighed, a dramatic motion that moved the comforters atop him.

“Just fine, mon cherie. We’ve survived far worse than this.”

Midoriya poised his pencil over a piece of notebook paper. “What are your symptoms?”

He wanted to have a full understanding of Contagion’s quirk—little was known about it, and that information was hard to access. Since they were in such close communication, classmates would likely notice any symptoms before teachers did. Aoyama had likely infected someone before he quarantined, and there was no way to know how far the sickness would reach.

“Ah, not much. Itchy throat, runny nose.” He sneezed delicately to punctuate his point, then looked back at Midoriya. Unlike most people on video calls, he looked directly at the camera, not his own screen. “My eyes are dry. This must be how Sensei feels. And I’m terribly tired.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Midoriya asked.

“A goodnight kiss wouldn’t go amiss, but unfortunately that’s not an option,” Aoyama replied mournfully. “I did not sleep well last night, and I don’t know if it’s because of the sickness or because I didn’t receive a goodnight kiss from you.”

“Hang in there, all right?” Midoriya said. “I promise you’ll get plenty of goodnight kisses in two weeks.”

Kaminari and Iida weren’t particularly close, but on the fifth day of quarantine, Kaminari messaged him asking if they could video chat while Kaminari did his homework.

>You don’t have to say anything or help me

>I just can’t focus alone lmao

Ideally, he’d have a conversation partner and someone to help him with more complex topics, but really he just didn’t want to be alone. He normally went to Bakugo for a study buddy, but Bakugo was so bad at even the most basic aspects of video calls that it caused Kaminari physical pain. Iida responded very quickly.

>>Absolutely! I was just about to search for an online study group. And I’m more than willing to help you if you need it—as long as I can run my English creative essay by you. I still have trouble with tenses.

Kaminari expected Iida to be put-together as ever, all prim and proper in a polo shirt and rectangle glasses. Instead, when Iida joined the video call, he sported eye bags, messy hair, and a faded flannel shirt with a patch for a punk band Kaminari didn’t even recognize.

“Did you just get up?” Kaminari asked incredulously. “Dude, you look exhausted.”

Iida laughed and made a futile attempt at tidying his hair with his hand. “I’ve been up since 8:00.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“Four in the morning,” Iida groaned. “I’m terrible at keeping a schedule when I’m not going to school. But, well, it’s only nine more days. I confess my reasons for accepting a study session with you weren’t selfless—I’m behind on all my classes and I just need someone to talk to.”

Kaminari winced sympathetically. “Is it the lack of structure?”

“Partially, I believe. To be honest, I think I haven’t been sleeping because I haven’t received goodnight kisses.”

Kaminari missed goodnight kisses. He wished he could go over and exchange goodnight kisses with Iida. They were right next to each other—it was odd to have a next-door neighbor that he could only communicate with over the internet.

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah, I feel that. Damn, I wish we had someone who was immune to disease to give out goodnight kisses.”

The group chat had thrown around the idea of having Dark Shadow distribute goodnight kisses, but Tokoyami explained that Dark Shadow couldn’t get sick but could be an asymptomatic carrier of any diseases Tokoyami caught. He said that it was likely that Dark Shadow was safe, but he wasn’t sure. Iida had shut down the idea. Any risk was too much risk, according to him.

“I do appreciate you enforcing the rules, though,” Kaminari said. “Fuck, man, I’m so immune to peer pressure. If you weren’t getting Mina and Sero to keep quarantine I’d probably break it with them.”

He expected Iida to berate him for being so impressionable, but Iida just nodded understandingly.

“The reason I enforce the rules so much,” Iida said, “is partially because if I see anyone breaking quarantine I’ll just crack and start giving out goodnight kisses left and right. Thankfully, we only have nine more days. In any case, shall we get started? I propose we begin with the math worksheet.”

Shinsou still had no idea whether Kaminari was into him or not.

Yeah, sure, he insisted on giving Shinsou a kiss on the lips every night. But he also gave goodnight kisses to Sero and Mina. He constantly called Shinsou “handsome,” but he also was constantly hanging on Jirou and Momo, and he didn’t have any interest in either of them.

Well, it didn’t really matter. Shinsou still enjoyed texting him.

>>Dude

>>Just did some studying with iida

>>He needs goodnight kisses so bad :( wish I could kiss him….

Well, that was a point in favor of Kaminari not liking Shinsou. Unless Kaminari also had a crush on Iida. Which, honestly, would be understandable.

It had only been five days. If Iida was already cracking, the rest of the class would soon follow.

>We have nine days left. We can make it

>>I mis u bro :(:(:(

Shinsou had always been a solitary person. He preferred his own company to that of most other people, and would much rather stay in his room than go out on the town. He wasn’t used to feeling like something was missing while he was spending time in the peace of solitude. But he missed his friends. He had actual friends now.

>I miss you too

>>Aww :D

Shinsou snorted fondly and rolled his eyes. Kaminari was incredibly easy to please and easy to be friends with.

>Is iida like. Actually not doin good. Or are you just exaggerating

>>Dude he was wearing a PUNK FLANNEL

>>And like yeah that would have been really hot but dude has mad eyebags :(

Shinsou hadn’t known Iida for as long as everyone else, but even he knew that if Iida appeared like someone who didn’t frequent country clubs then something was terribly wrong. Fortunately, he had an idea to preserve Iida’s sanity.

>Hm. I’ll see if I can get him a goodnight kiss

>>DUDE DONT BREAK QUARANTINE

>Don’t worry. I have a plan with no risk

>>Aight I trust ur strategy bro

Tenya had no idea what time it was.

He’d gotten all his homework done over Discord with Kaminari, so he didn’t have anything to do. Just books to read. He didn’t even like the book he was reading, but he couldn’t tear himself away from it. He could check his watch. It was right there. He didn’t check his watch.

It felt like 7:30. It was just 7:30. It was 7:30 about fifty pages ago.

Someone knocked on his door, and Tenya jumped out of his skin. He glanced at his watch—10:00. He had to go to bed in an hour at the latest, but an hour wasn’t nearly long enough to wind down, which meant it was basically 11:00 already. But he couldn’t go to bed right now, so he may as well not go to bed.

“Hello?” he called as he walked to the door.

“Open up,” came the muffled response. After a moment of thought, Tenya recognized the voice as that of Jiyoda Naosu. “I’m here to give you a goodnight kiss. Shinsou said you needed one.”

“I cannot allow that!”

“Hey, man, you can relax,” Jiyoda said. His voice was, as always, calming and commanding. “I am immune to all disease. I will not transmit any illness to you.”

Jiyoda’s quirk gave Tenya a headache every time he tried to analyze it. This was made worse by the fact that explaining it or thinking about it made it work less effectively. Midoriya seemed to understand it, but Midoriya’s way of explaining things tended to ramble into incoherence.

The solution was trust. If Tenya wanted a goodnight kiss, he had to trust Jiyoda. He wanted a goodnight kiss very badly. It had become a part of his routine, and Tenya lived by his habits.

Tenya put on a mask and opened the door. Jiyoda wasn’t wearing a mask—to wear a mask would be to sow doubt in his own mind that he was immune to the disease.

Jiyoda clapped Tenya on the arm in a deliberate motion and looked him in the eyes. He was only about half an inch taller than Tenya. He’d started the school year the same height as Tenya—he’d probably hit six feet by the time they graduated. When class 2-A had met Jiyoda, Kaminari had wolf-whistled, nudged Tenya, and said “I guess you got some competition for hero course beef-boy, huh?” and Tenya still had no idea what the hell he meant.

“Your body will not gonna catch the illness from me,” Jiyoda said.

Tenya did his best to believe him, and hoped it would be enough. He felt a weird tingling where his skin touched Jiyoda’s warm palm. Maybe it was Jiyoda’s quirk, or maybe it was his imagination. Well, in this case, there wasn’t actually a meaningful distinction between the two options.

Jiyoda pressed a kiss to Tenya’s forehead, and Tenya knew he would sleep well.

“I dunno,” Ochaco said. “Bakugo was walking down from the direction of security. I think he’s kinda sus.”

“Fuck you, round face!” Bakugo exploded. “I was starting the goddamn reactor! Obviously the imposter vented, idiot!”

“Well,” Shinsou said, “Bakugo was chasing me earlier.”

“Yeah, cuz I think you’re the goddamn imposter! I wanted to catch you!”

“So, we voting Bakugo?” Kaminari proposed.

A little “I voted” sticker popped up on Kaminari’s name, and Ochaco snickered. It was so easy to pin suspicion on Bakugo. She had no other choice, really—Bakugo was smart enough to figure it out, and he’d already pegged Shinsou as suspicious. He was target number two for any imposter—after Midoriya, of course, whose body Iida had discovered in security.

“State your locations again, everyone,” Iida instructed.

“Lower engine,” Bakugo and Ochaco said at the same time.

“I’m in admin,” Kaminari said.

“Electrical,” Shinsou said.

“See? Electrical vents to security!” Bakugo burst out. “He’s the imposter!”

“Calm down, Bakugo!” Iida ordered.

“I was doing garbage in cafeteria, kero,” Tsuyu said, her voice made fuzzy by her laptop mic.

“I don’t know, I’m afraid,” Momo said. “I believe there’s a chair? I’ve been tapping on asteroids.”

“So, weapons,” Iida said.

“I’ve been with Kodai the entire time,” Hanekagi said. “We’re in admin. Kaminari just walked in.”

“All right, and Mina’s with me fixing communications,” Iida said. “Sounds like it has to be Bakugo or Shinsou.”

“It’s obviously Shinsou!” Bakugo insisted.

Ochaco smirked. According to Kaminari, only idiots sabotaged comms, but it had worked out well for them. Midoriya, after all, always camped the cameras.

“We gotta vote Bakugo,” Hanekagi said in a deadpan tone. “He’s been very defensive.”

The incoherent sounds of Bakugo’s apoplectic rage in response made Ochaco mute him. Hanekagi had only come back from China at the beginning of the year, but she’d been part of the hero course long enough to know what Bakugo was like. Which meant she was fucking with him. Ochaco could respect that.

“Vote Bakugo and suspect Shinsou?” Kodai suggested.

“Sounds good to me!” Ochaco said cheerily, tapping the check mark by Bakugo’s name.

Bakugo was ejected. Ochaco cautiously unmuted him, and was met with such a hellish second of audio that she had to mute him again lest her old laptop’s speakers finally give up the ghost.

“So…was he the imposter?” Momo asked.

“We don’t know,” Mina told her. “Confirm ejects are off.”

With Bakugo and Midoriya out of the way, Ochaco and Shinsou swept the rest of the game.

“Ochaco!” Iida cried in a tone of betrayal as the word “victory” appeared on Ochaco’s screen. “I cannot believe you fooled me into voting off Kodai! Kodai, I am so sorry for allowing myself to be tricked by my classmates’s shenanigans.”

“It’s all right,” Kodai said mildly. “I didn’t defend myself well. I honestly thought Hanekagi was marinating me until she turned up dead.”

“I fucking hate this game,” Bakugo announced. “You extras are idiots. It was so goddamn obvious!”

“You did so well, Uraraka! I didn’t even suspect you until after I died,” Midoriya said.

“Yeah, well, you’re a fuckin’ simp,” Bakugo snapped. “I knew.”

“Whatever, we get it, you’re so smart and good at this game,” Hanekagi yawned. “One more round!”

Everyone agreed, even Bakugo, who allegedly thought Among Us was a worthless stupid game for idiots. It was addicting—Ochaco didn’t often have a chance to be a villain.

She wrote a reminder on a sticky note to thank Aizawa for introducing the game to them.

After fifteen days, Nezu finally decided that it was safe to lift the quarantine, and Kaminari was immensely relieved.

As soon as he got the email that they were safe from disease, Kaminari leaped out of his chair, rocketed out of the door, and hammered on Iida’s doorframe.

Iid opened the door, and seemed shocked at Kaminari’s presence.

“Quarantine’s over, dude!” Kaminari told him excitedly.

He enveloped Iida in a hug. Iida was very nice to hug.

“I gotta go hug everyone else! Bye!”

Kaminari went door-to-door, giving every one of his friend a hug. Even Bakugo allowed him to do so—he’d never admit it, but Kaminari suspected that Bakugo was as touch-starved as everyone else.

The best hug award, however, went to Shoji. Kaminari felt incredibly safe in those arms.

For two weeks, everyone had gone to sleep without a goodnight kiss. No more. Never again.

All twenty of them spent the evening in the common room, eating tacos al pastor (courtesy of Bakugo, Sero, and Tsuyu) and playing board games. Even Shinsou, who hated game nights, carved himself a comfortable space on the couch to watch the proceedings with an analytical eye. Kaminari threw himself onto the couch next to him, plate of tacos in hand, and leaned against Shinsou as he ate.

“I miss quarantine,” Shinsou said, his tone mournful and deadpan. “There are too many people here.”

“Don’t be a downer,” Kaminari told him. “I know you missed us.”

“Perhaps,” Shinsou replied begrudgingly. “You know, I really did try my best to not make friends with you people.”

“Bro, that ship sailed as soon as you joined a class with Midoriya Izuku in it. Dude’s got too many quirks and making friends has gotta be one of them,” Kaminari said through a mouthful of pork.

“You’re giving him too much credit,” Shinsou told him. “You’re the first person I made friends with.”

Kaminari turned around excitedly, nearly spilling his tacos off of his plate. “Bro!”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Shinsou muttered. “The isolation just made me sappy.”

That night, no one wanted to go back to their rooms.

Ochaco definitely didn’t want to be alone again, and she could read the same desire on the faces of her classmates. It had been a rough two weeks. Every night, unwanted memories had crept in with nothing to chase them away. The school and their families didn’t have the resources to get everyone therapy, and pro bono hero therapists gave priority to actual working and retired pros, so class 2-A found most of their comfort in each other.

Even after they had brushed their teeth and put on pajamas, the class gravitated back to the common room, hovering around each other awkwardly like moons in orbit.

Hagakure proposed a solution.

“Hey, guys,” she called once the night was winding down, “let’s all drag our blankets and pillows down here and have a sleepover!”

Any potential objections were drowned out by Kirishima and Kaminari leaping up, high-fiving, and yelling “SLEEPOVER!”

“I’ll see if I can create some foam pads,” Momo said. “We can use the couch cushions, as well.”

Iida stood, ready to take control of the situation as always. Even dressed in striped pajamas and a stocking cap, the class rep projected an air of earnest authority.

“Everyone who wishes to participate in the sleepover,” he ordered, “please go upstairs and gather any and all bedding you’re willing to contribute! We can then arrange the bedding into an appropriate sleeping area!”

Once they received Iida’s orders, the class got to work.

Ochaco ferried most of the fourth floor bedding down to the lobby in a floating lump of fabric. Iida put Sato and Momo to work laying out foam pads, couch cushions, and an air mattress into a sleeping area large enough for twenty teenagers. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable surface, but it was serviceable.

“I brought all the bedding from the fourth floor!” Ochaco announced. “Mina had a ton of fuzzy blankets!”

“Excellent!” Iida said. “Everyone take one pillow and one blanket to place wherever you want, and we’ll distribute the other blankets between them.”

Ojiro covered the floor cushions with sheets. Midoriya came downstairs absolutely swamped in a tower of blankets, obviously using some of his quirk to carry the weight. He triumphantly threw the blankets on the floor.

Soon, all of the blankets were downstairs, and then began the process of positioning as they all lay down to go to sleep.

Midoriya was at the center, with Iida next to him. Ochaco was sure that Bakugo would much rather be on the edge, but through a process that no one actually saw, he somehow ended up being spooned by Iida, ensnared in his muscular arm like a rabid raccoon caught in a trapline.

Ochaco chose to sleep between Midoriya and Tsuyu, swaddled in a fuzzy blanket. Above her head was Momo and Jirou, and Bakugo’s friends were below her feet. Shinsou was the farthest from the center, barely clinging to the edge of the air mattress, but Ochaco had a sneaking feeling that he’d end up at Kaminari’s side by the time they all woke up.

She situated herself with her back to Midoriya, allowing Tsuyu to curl up against her chest. Tsuyu liked to sleep curled up and warm. Todoroki slept at Tsuyu’s back, his warm arm thrown over her as her own personal heater.

Ochaco took a picture of herself surrounded by her classmates and sent it to Kodai. A few seconds later, Kodai sent back a picture of the 2-B common room, where an air mattress had been set up and an extremely peeved-looking Monoma was on his back with his arms folded, head resting on Jiyoda’s chest, Kendo asleep on his right side and Tetsutetsu on his left. Ochaco giggled.

“Bro,” Ochaco heard Kirishima say. “Bro, get over here so I can cuddle you.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” came a response from Sero. “Back up, Kaminari. We’re doing a cuddle chain.”

“That’s fuckin’ gay,” Bakugo yelled at them.

“We’re wearing socks, dude!” Kaminari yelled back.

Ochaco was not wearing socks. Perhaps that made cuddling with Tsuyu gay.

“Plus it’s the homies,” noted homosexual (and homiesexual) Kirishima added. “It’s not gay if it’s the homies.”

“What if I want it to be gay, though?” Sero asked.

“Will you shut up?” Bakugo demanded.

“Calm down Kacchan,” Midoriya yawned. “It’s bedtime.”

Bakugo didn’t respond out loud, but Ochaco would bet her limited money that Iida’s strong arm was the only thing keeping him from springing up and straight up biting Midoriya.

“Good night, everyone,” Momo yawned.

“Good night,” the class chorused back.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi did not like Bakugo.

That wasn’t to say he disliked Bakugo. He tolerated him. They could hold a conversation. But Hitoshi held no strong positive feelings toward Bakugo Katsuki.

They didn’t hang out. They generally didn’t train together. However, Hitoshi held one great joy in his life when it came to Bakugo Katsuki: fucking with him.

Hitoshi had long mastered the art of manipulation. Most people didn’t realize it when he was messing with them, and that made it boring. Bakugo, however, was an exciting challenge. If he caught Hitoshi in a deadpan half-truth, he’d be on his guard. If he smelled something suspicious, he’d follow it to the source. It was a high risk and a high reward—Bakugo was extremely smart, but also extremely prone to explosive bouts of toothless fury. Though he was a good partner in 4-D chess, sometimes Hitoshi just said something stupid just to see how Bakugo would react.

Especially after dinner.

“It’s not fucking cannibalism!” Bakugo yelled. “It’s not the literal goddamn body of Christ!”

“I’m gonna have to agree with Bakugo on this one,” Jiyoda said through a mouthful of noodles. He wasn’t really friends with any of 2-A except for Shinsou and Iida, but he liked to perch on top of the breakfast bar and hang out. “Y’all have never actually been around Catholics. It’s symbolic. Also, if it was cannibalism, I think being vegan would be the least of your objections.”

“Jesus literally said ‘this is my body,’ though,” Kaminari said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugo told him. “All of your knowledge about Christianity comes from Neon Genesis Evangelion.”

Kaminari opened his mouth to argue, but then his eyes widened. He’d been struck by a lightning bolt of an idea.

“Yo, yo, Jiyoda,” he said. “If you convinced someone that they were eating human meat, would it be cannibalism?”

That got the attention of the group that was half-listening while playing poker.

“That’s a really good question!” Midoriya said, twisting around on the couch.

“It wouldn’t be human meat,” Jiyoda said.

“But their body would process it as human meat,” Momo said. “You were telling me about the time that you ate something with lactose in it but didn’t experience any adverse effects because you convinced yourself it didn’t. This would be the same, right?”

Jiyoda massaged his temples as if fighting off a migraine. Maybe he was—thinking about Placebo gave Hitoshi headaches, even though it was the quirk most like his own out of the whole hero class. And he wasn’t the one who had to figure out how to use it.

“My quirk doesn’t change the composition of matter,” he said. “It just means that your body is or does whatever I can convince it it is or does. So, yes, it would process it as human meat. But that doesn’t make whatever they ate actual human meat. If you were to kill them and cut open their stomach, it would still be vegetables or whatever, even though they got meat nutrients out of it.”

“But nutrients come from the composition of the food you ate,” Midoriya said. “Where does the change happen?”

Jiyoda shrugged. “Dunno. The more I know about my quirk, the greater the possibility it stops working altogether. Anyway, cannibalism requires you to eat human meat. My quirk does not turn food into human meat. Therefore, not cannibalism.”

“So you could be a priest, give out communion, and convince people they were eating the literal body of Christ? Would they like, get God’s powers?” Sero asked.

“I dunno, Sero, do you get the powers of a cow every time you eat beef?” Jirou snapped. “Dumb fuckin’ question.”

“What are the powers of a cow?” Kaminari asked.

Midoriya perked up. “Oh, actually there was a hero in America during All Might’s Young Age that had the powers of a cow! Her name was Bullrush, and she had enhanced speed, strength, and horns! Plus two stomachs.”

“Okay, but like, what if you gave wine to Toga Himiko, and convinced her it was the blood of Christ?” Kaminari asked. “Would she get Christ’s quirk?”

“You are so fucking stupid,” Bakugo said. “If Christ was real, he didn’t have a quirk! That was literally year zero! Before quirks appeared!”

“But all things are possible through God!” Jiyoda laughed.

Bakugo went red in the face.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU GODDAMN COWARDLY 2-B INTERLOPING EXTRA!” he exploded.

“Wow, Bakugo,” Hitoshi drawled, “projecting much?”

Bakugo turned to him, a look of pure fury on his face.

“I’m just saying,” Hitoshi continued, “it’s awfully hypocritical of you to call someone cowardly when you’re too much of a wuss to kiss the homies goodnight.”

The room went silent like a saloon after the wrong floorboard creaked. Every head turned as one to the confrontation. Energy crackled in the air, and Shinsou could almost feel it. Bakugo’s face had turned from furious red to stony calm—well, calm by Bakugo’s standards. It was an expression that would look positively rabid on anyone else’s face.

“What did you just say?” he snarled.

Hitoshi put his hands up and arranged his face into a very convincing pantomime of surrender. “Hey, hey, sorry, man. I was outta line. If you’re not emotionally mature enough yet to show affection to your friends, that’s okay. I’m sure you’ll get there.”

“It doesn’t have to be kisses,” Kaminari piped up. “You could tell the homies you’re proud of them! Man, it would be really nice if you told your homies you thought they were cool.”

“I’m not gonna waste my breath stating the obvious to you dumbasses!” Bakugo yelled. “I am emotionally mature and in touch with my feelings!”

Midoriya snickered. Kaminari gave a soft “bro…” in response.

Hitoshi patted Bakugo’s shoulder, which was much like playing chicken with a bear trap. “Yeah, sure. Take your time. I’m sure you’ll get to where we are eventually, and be able to kiss the homies.”

“I am perfectly capable of kissing the homies! I choose not to, idiot.”

Hitoshi nodded sagely. “I understand it’s hard for you to participate in something when you know Midoriya is better at it than you. We all have our shortcomings, it’s okay. There’s no shame in being second best to Midoriya. He’s pretty incredible.”

Sparks glinted in Bakugo’s eyes, and Hitoshi knew that he had won. The last holdout against kissing the homies goodnight had fallen.

“Well, I have to do some homework before bed,” Hitoshi said, stretching his arms above his head. “Good night, Bakugo.”

“You better not be expecting a damn kiss,” Bakugo growled.

Hitoshi grinned. “No, I wouldn’t ask that from you. You haven’t even gotten up to kissing your best friends yet, and we’re hardly homies. Baby ste—mmph!”

Bakugo was extremely fast, and Hitoshi had no chance to react before Bakugo grabbed him by the face and kissed him square on the lips.

Jiyoda and Kaminari wolf-whistled.

The kiss was short and incredibly aggressive, and it left Hitoshi stunned.

“Don’t ever doubt me again, you got it?” Bakugo ordered. “I’m going the fuck to bed.”

He kissed Kaminari on the forehead and left the rest of the students in a stunned silence broken only by the scratching of Midoriya’s pencil.

As soon as Hitoshi was fairly sure Bakugo was out of earshot, he let out a low chuckle.

“Comrades,” he said, “the homie kisses have won.”

Chapter Text

It had gotten a lot easier to get permission to go home since Shigaraki and All For One’s defeat at the beginning of their second year. When the dorm system was first established, they had to get a teacher’s permission to even leave campus. Now, Aizawa just nodded when Shoto asked him if he could go home for a week or two.

He had Midoriya to thank for that.

Fuyumi kept insisting that Shoto didn’t have to come back, since the pneumonia wasn’t that bad and she could take care of herself with their mother’s help. Shoto wasn’t hearing any of it. Fuyumi took care of him almost singlehandedly for the better part of his life.

“We’ll miss you!” Uraraka told him.

Shoto stared back at her, blankly.

“You’ll see me tomorrow,” he said. “I’m still going to school.”

“Yeah, but the dorms won’t be the same without you, man!” Kaminari whined.

Shoto smiled. When he first came here, he was determined to not make friends. Now, he was on good terms with all of his classmates. He had made friends with people he never would have dreamed he’d get along with.

“I’ll be back soon,” Shoto said. “Once Fuyumi’s all better. I will miss you guys.”

“Tell Fuyumi we said hi!” Midoriya told him. “Give her a goodnight kiss from me!”

Shoto didn’t sleep very well the first night home.

He couldn’t chalk it up to trauma—Fuyumi and his mother lived in a brand-new house with none of the baggage of the past. No, this was definitely due to lack of a goodnight kiss.

Well, whatever. Shoto was very used to running off of three or four hours of sleep. He had no right to complain when Fuyumi was only able to get out of bed to lay on the couch, despite her insistence that she was okay.

He got up early to make breakfast for all three of them, but neither Fuyumi nor his mother were awake by the time he had to leave for school.

During his first year, he always hid any trace of fatigue. He never let sickness show on his face. Unfortunately, his class had learned to read him, and he didn’t have the heart to try to stop them.

“You look tired, kero,” Tsuyu commented as he sat down. “Did you not sleep well?”

“I’m fine,” Shoto said. “I just tossed and turned for a bit.”

“Did you not get a goodnight kiss?” Mina asked. “But you’re staying with your family, right? Couldn’t you get one from them?”

Shoto blinked. Honestly, the thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. His mother hadn’t been physically affectionate with him in quite some time—fear still showed in her hands, like she was afraid her fingertips would raise burns on his skin wherever they touched. And Fuyumi had developed pneumonia from a case of the flu, so kisses were off the table.

“No,” he replied simply.

He noticed Sero give Mina a meaningful elbow, and she winced.

“Oh, sorry,” she said awkwardly.

Shoto stared back at her. “For what? It’s not your fault that my family is messed up.”

Mina laughed a little, then slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shoto said.

“Did I hear that right?” Kirishima said, leaning over Sero’s shoulder. “Todoroki, you aren’t getting a goodnight kiss?”

“It’s no big deal,” Shoto said, “but that’s correct. I’ll be back soon enough, don’t worry.”

Kirishima nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He sent a text to someone, then put it back.

Shoto thought nothing of it at the time.

Aizawa slammed the door open. “In your seats,” he announced, and everyone complied. He scanned the desks. “Where’s Kaminari?” Kaminari was indeed missing.

Mina’s hand shot up. “Sensei! He’s visiting Class 2-B. He said something about telling Jiyoda he was wrong about Catholics?”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose.

That night, just as Shoto was wrapping up his homework for the night, he heard tapping at his window.

His first assumption, of course, was that it was a villain. Or perhaps a bird. Either way, he’d probably have to use his quirk. Frost started to creep over his hand as he approached the window. He peeked through the curtains—and saw Midoriya outside.

Shoto opened the curtains. Midoriya waved. Shoto’s room was on the second floor, but of course that was no barrier to a boy that could float. At this point, the multiple quirks was the least weird thing about Midoriya, especially considering his brief stint with vigilantism.

Shoto opened the window. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m here to give you a goodnight kiss!” Midoriya announced.

Shoto blinked. “What?”

“Well, Kirishima said you weren’t getting one at home,” Midoriya explained, “and it didn’t look like you slept well last night. Neither did I—I had that nagging feeling that I’d missed something, ya know? So I sped on over here!”

Shoto opened the window all the way, throwing both panes open to let Midoriya in. He took Midoriya’s hand, pulling him through the frame like a lost balloon. Midoriya probably could have pulled himself in using Black Whip, but they liked seeking out excuses to make contact.

“You came all this way just to give me a goodnight kiss?” Shoto said with a small smile. He’d learned so much over the last year or so, but perhaps his favorite lesson was learning the profound joy of being cared about in little ways.

“Well, I can’t let the homies go unkissed,” Midoriya said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He released his quirk and landed solidly on the floor before Shoto. Midoriya leaned in for a quick peck on the lips, which Shoto accepted gratefully—and then heard a little squeak from the open doorway.

Shoto turned, surprised, to see Fuyumi standing there, blanket draped over her shoulders.

“What are you doing up?” he asked. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I woke up,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I was hungry, and I wanted to ask if you could heat up some broth for me? Sorry, I can get it myself, you’re busy—“

“Go back to bed and I’ll bring you some broth,” Shoto told her. “Don’t apologize. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

“Hello, Fuyumi!” Midoriya said cheerily with a wave.

“Hi, Midoriya,” Fuyumi said a bit awkwardly. “It’s nice to see you.”

She looked at Shoto like she wanted to say something, or maybe ask a question, but apparently decided against it.

“I’ll head back to my place, then,” Midoriya said. “Good night, Todoroki!”

“Good night, Midoriya.”

The next morning, Shoto was running late, so when he came downstairs his mother was making breakfast. Fuyumi was nodding off at the table—she really shouldn’t have been up that early, especially since she didn’t sleep well the previous night.

Shoto grabbed a bowl of egg on rice from the counter and dug in.

“Did you put sriracha on this?” he asked.

“You used to love it on your rice bowls,” his mom said. “Do you still?”

“Of course,” he said.

Fuyumi gave him a look. The atmosphere was decidedly weird, like there was an elephant in the room that Shoto couldn’t see. He didn’t have time to ask about it before leaving for school.

“Would you like to have Midoriya over for dinner sometime when I’m better?” Fuyumi asked tentatively as Shoto tied up her trash bag. “I can make something yummy.”

“Sure,” Shoto replied. It was a weird question. Midoriya had been over before a few times, after all.

“Oh, good,” Fuyumi said. “I’d like to get to know him better, if he’s going to come over more often.”

Shoto blinked. Why would he be over more often?

Fuyumi was better within the week—thank God for modern medicine, and Midoriya came over to give a goodnight kiss every night of that week—and Shoto kind of forgot about the dinner until Fuyumi brought it up again.

“I’m making hotpot on Friday night,” she said. “Natsuo has a break that day, too! How about you see if Midoriya’s free?”

“Okay,” Shoto said. “I can do that.”

He had other friends besides Midoriya, and Bakugo loved Fuyumi’s cooking, but he had to admit that Midoriya was the ideal dinner guest.

The dinner started off just fine. Midoriya came over five minutes early, dressed in a nice short-sleeved button-up and shorts. He started asking Natsuo about his motivation for being a doctor, and they quickly got into an animated conversation about medical applications for his freezing quirk.

His mother smiled at them fondly.

“It’s nice that they’re getting along,” she said.

Fuyumi nudged him with her elbow. “Right, Shoto?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I guess.”

They were acting weird. Natsuo and Midoriya first met almost a year ago, and it wasn’t like they’d ever had any conflicts.

“Were you nervous at all?” Fuyumi asked. “I mean, I’d be nervous too, bringing my boyfriend home to meet my family.”

Shoto stared at her. “What?”

Fuyumi looked back at him in confusion, then started to grow flustered. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I must have made a mistake! Were you guys dating the last time he was over, too?”

Midoriya and Natsuo’s conversation had come to a screeching halt. Midoriya was staring at Fuyumi with a furrowed brow.

“Dating?” Shoto repeated blankly.

Midoriya’s face turned flame red. “Oh no, we’re not…”

Fuyumi clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I must have hallucinated or something, I was so feverish!”

“What made you think we’re dating?” Midoriya asked.

“I thought I saw you two kissing in Shoto’s bedroom the second day he was back?”

“Well, yeah,” Midoriya said, “but why would that mean we’re dating?”

Natsuo stared at him like he’d grown a second head, which Shoto thought was a tad unwarranted.

“Generally,” his mother said, “when people kiss, it means they’re dating, but I don’t know if it’s different for your generation.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “I’ve been fairly out of the loop.”

“It’s an American tradition,” Midoriya explained. “Kissing your homies good night to help them sleep well! So our class has been doing it in the dorms.”

“That’s so sweet!” Fuyumi gasped. “So you came all the way over to help Shoto sleep well?” She shook Shoto lightly by the shoulder. “Shoto, you have such good friends!”

Midoriya tapped a finger against his chin. “Now that I think about it, I can see how that might have given you the wrong impression.”

“Might?” Natsuo repeated. He was obviously trying not to laugh.

“You know, Shoto, you can tell us if you two are dating,” his mom said. “Your father doesn’t have to know.”

“We’re not,” Shoto said. “But I…I appreciate it.”

Sexuality wasn’t a subject that Shoto had ever really reflected on. He’d never had time to even think about relationships, and had watched the mundane romantic concerns of his classmates with a certain degree of disinterested bewilderment. But it was nice to have the safety net of knowledge that at least 80% of his family would have his back no matter what. And yes, he was counting Toya in that percentage—Toya would definitely try to burn him alive if they ever crossed paths again, but wouldn’t call him a slur while doing so.

Shoto blinked. “Wait. Is that why you had him over for dinner?”

Fuyumi rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. “Well, I know he’s already been over, but introducing your partner to the family is a thing, right? I wanted to give you the chance to do that formally, at least.”

Shoto smiled fondly. Fuyumi really was the glue keeping their family together—it was unfair that she’d been forced into that role, but she’d taken it on with such grace and competence.

“This is really good hotpot,” Midoriya said with a little laugh. “If I pretend I’m dating Shoto, will you let me eat it again?”

Fuyumi laughed cheerily. “You’re always welcome to eat my cooking, Midoriya!”

“You’re way better at chopping vegetables than Shoto, anyway,” Natsuo remarked.

Midoriya looks modestly downward. “If you want a good sous chef, you’ll have to invite Kacchan. He’s so gifted at cooking, it’s insane.”

Shoto nodded in agreement. Bakugo was certainly an amazing cook, and was constantly making food for the class. He claimed that it was to assert his dominance rather than show any sort of platonic affection, but at this point he wasn’t fooling anyone.

There really was no such thing as making food from others without any degree of love.

Chapter Text

It was about half an hour past Bakugo’s bedtime, Tenya knew. Neither of them had brought it up yet.

“You can go to bed if you wish, Bakugo,” Tenya said. “I don’t want to keep you up late just because I’m late on this assignment.”

Bakugo idly turned a page of his manga, seeming riveted. Tenya knew for a fact he’d reread Kaguya-sama at least three times.

“You hit a block, right?” Bakugo said. “So you’re not gonna finish it if I leave now.”

Tenya sighed and offered no further argument.

Bakugo and him had…the term “arrangement” seemed too formal, but Bakugo certainly wouldn’t be caught dead calling it a “friendship.” In the daytime, tension lingered between them like a taught string, and Tenya’s fiery high-strung personality would only bring disaster if it touched Bakugo’s gasoline.

Things changed, though, when the sun touched the horizon.

The night Bakugo had first had a panic attack in front of him wasn’t the last. It was a matter of course, now, for Bakugo to slam into Tenya’s room and sit on his bed, head in his hands, breaths deep and controlled until he left with a goodnight kiss and without a word. And whenever the mysterious block in Tenya’s head arbitrarily kept him from completing a task, he could count on Bakugo to pass time in his room until the block was gone.

Truth be told, Tenya was scared of what would happen if his classmates learned he didn’t have everything put together. That he fell apart without regimented structure and was barely able to control his own motivation. He’d only ever let that mask slip in front of Kaminari and Bakugo. It made sense to tell Kaminari, a kindred spirit—but he’d never have expected the high-achieving driven-beyond-belief Bakugo to be so helpful and understanding in his own way.

“Thanks for staying,” Tenya said.

Bakugo just scoffed and rolled his eyes. When that first happened, Tenya’s initial reaction was a spike of anxiety and irritation, but he quickly reminded himself of all that Midoriya’s told him—Bakugo’s social signals were completely out of line with anyone else’s, and Bakugo’s mere extended tolerance of Tenya’s presence was a far stronger indicator of approval and kinship than any words. Now, he found those scoffs endearing.

About twenty minutes later, Tenya finally finished his assignment. He gave an exhausted huff and slammed his English book shut.

Conjugation didn’t make any damn sense to him. Having to focus on it was like pulling teeth. Why did the English invent such a stupid language? He never would have been able to finish it if not for Bakugo’s presence.

He knew it wasn’t normal for such a high-achieving student to have such trouble with the most basic aspects of executive function, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Until he figured it out, he hoped Bakugo will continue to help him.

“I finished,” Tenya said tiredly. “Apologies for keeping you up late.”

“You really think you could keep me up if I didn’t want to be here?” Bakugo drawled. “You’re not that important.”

Tenya smiled softly. While he was bad at English, he spoke fluent Bakugo, and received Bakugo’s words as the blatant declaration of undying loyalty that they were.

Tenya stood. “Good night, Bakugo,” he said.

He leaned down to give Bakugo a goodnight kiss on the lips that lasted a little bit longer than necessary. That was another item on the list of things he needed to figure out, because Tenya was fairly certain that their goodnight kisses were backsliding further and further into the entirely nonplatonic.

Tenya knew that his classmates probably assumed Present Mic had held him back after class to dispense praise. He knew better. Before Present Mic even opened his mouth, Tenya dropped into a deep and apologetic bow.

“My sincerest apologies for last night’s homework!” Tenya declared. “I did not spend nearly enough time on it. It’s entirely my fault. It won’t happen again. I’m more than happy to do whatever makeup work is necessary.”

“Cool your jets, dude,” Present Mic said. “I’m not going to give you makeup work.”

Tenya straightened up. “You’re not?” Detention, then. Maybe he was going to have to repeat the class.

“Well, of course not,” Present Mic said. “I know you’re a great hero, and one of the best students in class.” He makes some motion with his hands that probably is intended more for a live studio audience than talking to a student. “So, I know this isn’t because you’re not trying. And I know you’re hard on yourself about your English, but you’re in the top class of an amazing class in an elite school, so chill out!”

“I don’t mean to argue,” Tenya said hesitantly, “but given that I am intelligent, and there were no other commitments keeping me from doing the assignment, so I see no other explanation but my own lack of effort.”

Present Mic, to Tenya’s surprise, laughed. “Man, it’s like looking at first-year me! Hey, man, you ever get tested for ADHD?”

Tenya blinked. “No?” He was familiar with ADHD, but never once considered that he may have it.

Present Mic pulled an already prepared sheet of paper out of his desk. “All right. There’s a psychiatrist who owes me a few favors that can get you tested. Since I’m technically authorized through UA to facilitate medical treatment, you don’t even have to tell your parents if you don’t want to.”

Tenya took the paper and stared at it blankly.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “I mean, I’m…I’m smart. I’m supposed to have everything put together.”

“Just trust me,” Present Mic said. “You can be smart and high-achieving with ADHD.” He grinned. “I’m proof of that.”

Tenya tucked the paper into his backpack, getting the sense that to show his surprise would be rude. “All right,” he said. “I’ll get tested. Thank you.”

One week later, Tenya walked out of the psychiatrist’s office with a fair amount of shock, a folder of papers in his backpack, and a prescription that he had been cautioned very heavily not to lose.

He had ADHD. His lack of executive function wasn’t his fault.

When he got back to the dorms, he felt suddenly hesitant. He didn’t want to tell anyone. That’s normal, the psychiatrist said—there was a stigma against ADHD, and Tenya should work through his own hangups around his diagnosis.

So he didn’t tell anyone.

“You’ve been doing better at homework,” Bakugo said. “Haven’t asked me over lately.”

“You’re here anyway,” Tenya snarked at him. Bakugo had made Tenya’s bed into his official manga reading spot. “Yeah, the meds help.” Then he froze as his brain caught up to his words. Playing it off wasn’t an option—Bakugo was intensely smart and observant.

But Bakugo didn’t pry, didn’t ask him to clarify. Tenya swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I got diagnosed with ADHD,” Tenya admitted. “And I’m…on medication for that.”

“Good,” Bakugo said. “Medication fucks.”

Tenya burst into shocked laughter. Then he started crying. Bakugo just stared at him, looking uncharacteristically out of his depth.

“A-apologies,” Iida muttered. “It’s been a…”

“Don’t apologize,” Bakugo ordered. “I think you’ve earned this.”

As soon as he learned they were doing training in the USJ’s new forest area, Tenya knew that Bakugo would be in his room that night.

During class, Bakugo was the image of a perfect hero. He shone like a star, challenging Midoriya step for step as they completed the rescue simulation. His sandpaper-rough determination drew every eye, and the rest of the class left with the distinct impression that Bakugo practically had hero work figured out already. Tenya knew they were worried about him, as they always were when Bakugo entered forests, but Tenya could see the outline of his mask.

Midoriya could see it too, Tenya knew. Such was apparent in his nervous eyes. But while Bakugo trusted Midoriya with his life on the battlefield, he was far less ready to show weakness.

So when Bakugo barged into Tenya’s room, slamming the door behind him, Tenya wasn’t surprised. He was already ready, sitting on his bed with a pair of thermoses.

“I made tea,” Tenya said.

Bakugo threw himself down on the bed next to Tenya. He wrapped his arms around his knees, looking pissed. His steely face was held in position by the utmost strength, but Tenya could see the cracks.

Bakugo pressed his face against his knees and let out a frustrated half-groan half-scream. Tenya debated whether to pat him on the back in a consoling matter. He decided against it for the same reasons that one does not pet a snarling dog.

Bakugo reached out a trembling hand and took a thermos. He took a steadying sip.

“It’s my favorite,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Tenya said quietly. “You’ve stolen enough of my food for me to know your preferences.”

Bakugo gave Tenya a curious look, but there was something deeper there that Tenya couldn’t identify. He leaned against Tenya’s shoulder, and Tenya finally worked up the courage to put his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder. Bakugo, too tired to protest, relaxed under Tenya’s hand.

They sipped their tea in silence as Bakugo’s ragged breathing and rapid heartbeat evened out.

“This one wasn’t so bad,” Bakugo said quietly. “They’re getting better.”

“I do hope you’ll find another excuse to come over, then,” Tenya said.

Bakugo leaned away from Tenya to place his thermos on the end table.

“Hey, glasses,” Bakugo said. “I don’t want another goodnight kiss tonight. Not like normal.”

Tenya blinked. Has he said something wrong? But then Bakugo looked back at him, and Tenya’s breath caught at his expression.

There was no trace of a mask, and Tenya’s heart skipped seven beats.

Bakugo kissed Tenya with such force that he had to brace an arm against the bed, and he melted against the rough, calloused fingers gripping his pajama shirt. It certainly wasn’t a normal goodnight kiss—no other kiss had ever made Tenya feel like every nerve in his body was alight with gunpowder and honey. Like he was going so much faster than his engines could ever propel him. Tenya pulled Bakugo closer by the waist, and Bakugo gripped his hair to deepen the kiss. His lips were chapped. Tenya tasted tea on his lips.

Bakugo was the one who broke the kiss. He stared Tenya down, mask back on. There was a dare in those eyes, and Tenya didn’t know what it was.

Tenya felt like he should say something, but the language centers of his brain had abandoned language and were now entirely devoted to replaying the kiss in his head.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Tenya finally said, “but I believe that was not a platonic goodnight kiss.”

“There’s no such thing as a platonic goodnight kiss,” Bakugo told him.

“But you’ve been letting me give you goodnight kisses. You’ve even given me some.”

“Yeah, no shit. Dumbass.”

A smile crept unbidden across Tenya’s face.

“I guess you should thank Midoriya, then,” he said, “for giving you an excuse to kiss me.”

Bakugo scowled at him. “Shut up.”

Tenya’s smile turned into a full-blown grin. He’d been wanting to deliver this line to Bakugo for months:

“Make me.”

Bakugo did.

Chapter Text

Jiyoda and Kaminari were arguing about Catholicism again.

Hanta loved it when this happened. It always started with some offhand humorous comment and degenerated into a full-on shouting match—this time, in a WcDonald’s booth.

“Just admit you were wrong!” Kaminari yelled. “It’s the literal body of Christ according to Catholic doctrine! I looked up what transubstantiation is!”

“Where, the Evangelion wiki?” Jirou scoffed.

Kaminari brandished an accusatory finger at her.

“Any true fan knows that Evangelion’s usage of Catholic iconography is entirely aesthetic and skin-deep,” he declared. “I only go to the Evangelion wiki to learn about Jungian theory. Anyway, Jiyoda, you’ve got the denominations mixed up.”

“No, I don’t! Protestantism has no concept of eating the body of Christ.”

“Oh yeah? Then why do they take Communion, wise guy?”

Jiyoda blinked. “The places I went didn’t take Communion.”

“Yeah, and I bet they had rows of fold-out chairs and a guy singing a Christian rewrite of Hallelujah, too. Do you even know what an Episcopal is?”

“Episcopals are the ones that don’t baptize, right?” Ashido asked. “The ones that took over a city in Germany that one time?”

Their friend group knows way too much about Christianity, as a result of Kaminari’s extensive research.

“Episocopals are basically Catholic,” Jiyoda said.

Kaminari pointed at Ashido. “You’re thinking of Anabaptists.” He pointed at Jiyoda. “And you’re wrong too.”

“Episcopals are Anabaptists, I thought,” Jirou said.

“Anglicans,” Kaminari corrected her. “They split off from the Church of England.”

“The Church of England was Catholic!” Jiyoda argued. “That’s why that guy wanted the Pope to annul his marriage or something.”

Kaminari slammed his hands on the table, spilling a few fries. “The Church of England was Protestant! Everybody knows that! They teach you that in like third grade!”

Bakugo took a long and noisy sip of his Coke. Everyone turned to him as he slams down his cup.

“This is a stupid debate,” Bakugo declared. “There are far weirder things in the Bible we could be talking about. Like how Judas kissed Jesus when he could have just pointed at him.”

Hanta grinned. Oh, this was going to get interesting.

“Yeah,” Ashido said. “That does seem kind of fruity.”

“First of all,” Kaminari declared, “it’s more poignant that way. And second of all, Jesus was Judas’s homie, so the kiss wasn’t gay.”

The entire table nodded in agreement.

“That’s true,” Jiyoda said. “I mean, all of us are receiving homie kisses every night, but not in a gay way.”

Bakugo delicately took a bite of his hamburger in a decidedly suspicious manner.

“Yup,” Bakugo said.

“Yo, Blasty,” Hanta said, “you are receiving a goodnight kiss every night, right?”

“None of your business,” Bakugo growled.

“I assumed he was,” Ashido said. “He is, right? Someone was taking care of that. Shinsou said he’d make sure.”

Bakugo finished his hamburger.

“I can manage my own goodnight kisses,” he said.

That evening at dinner, Mina felt the need to make sure.

“Hey, Shinsou,” Mina said, “Bakugo’s been less cranky lately! Thanks for giving him his goodnight kisses.”

Shinsou put a hand up while he finished his bite of noodles, then said, “I can’t take credit for that. I delegated that to Midoriya.”

“I thought Kirishima was in charge of Bakugo,” Midoriya said, baffled.

“No, you said you’d take care of it!” Kirishima argued.

“We were having a nice conversation,” Bakugo snapped, as if he cared about nice conversation. “Tape Face, as I was saying, your twink ass needs to work on your lower body exercises more. That’s your weapon while your elbows are occupied.”

“Twink?” Sero repeated incredulously.

“Don’t change the subject,” Mina said. “We just need to make sure you’re sleeping all right!”

“I am, you horned weirdo! That stick-in-the-mud Sonic is taking care of it!”

The entire table sighed in collective relief. Of course they could count on their class representative.

“I didn’t know you guys were homies,” Mina remarked.

“Of course we’re homies!” Iida argued, chopping his hand. “I pride myself on developing close relationships with everyone in class.”

Bakugo gave a quickly stifled snort.

They’d all gotten stronger since their first day. Eijiro couldn’t be blamed for looking in the locker room, really. It wasn’t a creepy thing. He just liked to take inspiration from his classmates.

“Hey, Tokoyami,” he called. “You really haven’t been skipping leg day! Nice!”

Stone-faced, Tokoyami put his foot up on the locker to show off his leg muscles. Eijiro gave him a grin and a thumbs-up.

“Why are you doing leg exercises?” Ojiro laughs as he folds up his costume. “Can’t you fly?”

“One can only truly know the sky by being acquainted with the Earth,” Tokoyami intoned.

“Keep it up,” Eijiro urged. “Maybe you’ll give Iida a run for his money!”

“No one’s out-legging Iida,” Ojiro scoffed.

Yeah, that was probably true. Iida’s legs were literally strong enough to crumple steel. Seriously, what was in that guy’s bones?

Iida was changing in the corner of the locker room, so no one could really see him but Eijiro. Which means when Eijiro glanced over at him, only his gaze could stick on Iida’s shoulder, right where it met his neck.

There was a small bruise there. And Eijiro wasn’t naive. He knew that wasn’t from a battle.

Iida had a hickey. Holy shit.

Eijiro quickly turned back to buttoning up his shirt. No, there was no way that was a hickey. Dating was forbidden until the third year at UA. It wasn’t like Aizawa would enforce that—he had no credibility ever since Midnight let slip during a simulation that he’d dated during his first year—but Iida would never break a UA rule.

Well, there was that one time when he helped them save Bakugo, but that didn’t count.

Eijiro was overthinking this, he decided. Iida wouldn’t break school rules. Maybe someone just got a little overenthusiastic with the goodnight kisses.

Kyoka had no conceivable idea why people flirted with Bakugo.

He was decent-looking when he smiled, sure, but Kyoka’d only seen that in exactly one fleeting moment that she was fairly sure was a figment of her imagination.

And yet people their age—and some older, which, ew—seemed to think that he was somehow desirable. Even Kyoka’s presence didn’t dissuade them, which was oddly validating, as it demonstrated that they were clearly not a couple.

Usually, no one got further than a greeting, because once Bakugo became aware of their presence he would give them about half of his full attention, which to the uninitiated was rather like being blasted with a fire hose. When they powered past that, Kyoka recorded the interaction to send to the group chat.

Kyoka knew that Bakugo noticed the two girls whispering and giggling at the end of the aisle, but he didn’t acknowledge them. He continued to peruse the CDs of all 13 of Carly Rae Jepsen’s albums.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Kyoka said. “You have admirers.”

“I know,” Bakugo snapped. “It’s been happening since the sports festival. You go flirt with them.”

“What, you think just because I’m bi I’ll flirt with any girl for you?”

He was the only person she’d come out to so far, mostly because she knew he wouldn’t give a shit. He ranked people by strength alone.

“No, I think you’ll do it because we’re friends,” Bakugo said. He said the word “friends” with the utmost sarcasm.

“You go talk to them,” Kyoka ordered. “You could use a girlfriend. Someone’s gotta hold your leash.”

Bakugo glared at her. “Not interested.”

“Really? Not interested in dating someone you can’t fight?”

“Very funny, iPod. I’m taken, anyway.”

He said that last part so casually that it took a moment to sink in, and then Jirou started laughing. It was very rare for Bakugo to make jokes.

Bakugo gave her an irritated glance. “That wasn’t a joke.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jirou repeated incredulously. “Who?”

Bakugo made his selection and gestured that he was ready to leave the store. “Like you said. Someone I can fight. Let’s get outta here—it looks like those idiots are getting up the courage to talk to me.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” Kyoka said, hands folded like Gendo Ikari on the ramen shop table. “I have a mystery, and I want your insight.”

“Oh, a mystery!” Kaminari said excitedly, eager for something to do while they waited for their food. “Detective Denki is on the case! Gimme the facts.”

“Bakugo is seeing someone,” Kyoka said. “As in. Dating someone.”

The collected Bakusquad gasped in shock, and Kyoka smirked. Just the reaction she was looking for.

“Wait, seriously?” Mina demanded. “Oh my gosh, how are you the first person to know about this? Tell me everything!”

“I know just one thing: it’s someone he can fight, whatever that means.”

“That could be anyone,” Sero complained. “This is a hero school!”

Everyone turned as one to look at Kirishima.

“Why are you looking at me?” Kirishima asked.

“Tell it to me straight,” Kyoka ordered. “Are you dating Bakugo?”

Kirishima laughed. “Nah, dude. We’re just homies.”

“Then tell us who it is!” Mina cajoled. “You know who it is, right?”

Kirishima shrugged. “No clue. This is the first I’m hearing about it. I’m surprised more than one student is dating, though, since it’s against the rules.”

“More than one?” Kyoka and Kaminari chorused.

Kirishima blanched. “Ah, forgot what I said. Not your business. Or mine.”

“Ugh!” Mina groaned. “I hate being out of the loop on all the romantic gossip!”

Kaminari took a notebook and pen out of seemingly nowhere. “All right, let’s run through the options. Who does Bakugo spend time with?”

“Us,” Sero said. “For the record, I’m not dating him.”

“Me neither,” Kaminari said.

“Not me,” Mina said. “And I don’t think Jirou would bring it up if it was her.”

“He trains a lot with Midoriya,” Kirishima noted.

“Well, there is the morphine incident,” Kaminari said, followed up by an immediate expression of regret. “Never mind.”

“I keep hearing about this incident,” Kyoka said. “Explain.”

“Uh,” Kaminari said, “I shouldn’t say anything. But, um. It might actually be Midoriya.”

Sero burst out laughing. Mina looked like she’d just been given a pony and a million yen.

“Wait,” Kirishima said, “you could be onto something. Bakugo was the first one to know about One For All, right? And they do spend a lot of time together, and they’ve got that whole performative hostility thing going on.”

“This actually makes so much sense,” Kyoka breathed. “I mean, we can all put up a fight against Bakugo, but Midoriya’s the one he always wants to fight the most.”

“We cannot let on that we know this,” Sero said through giggles. “He’d literally kill us. We’d die.”

Kyoka nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Shoto liked shopping.

He used to hate it. His father was an asshole to customer service representatives. But it wasn’t so bad with his friends. It was rather nice to be the one buying expensive things. Also, when he went with a group, he got to be part of a conversation without having someone’s full attention on him.

Iida and Midoriya were busy studying, so it was just him, Aoyama, Uraraka, and Tsuyu. Aoyama’s diva nature very effectively overrode Uraraka’s reluctance to use the stolen Endeavor credit card. Tsuyu carried many of the bags—her arms were very strong.

They took a break for some ice cream in the food court, and Shoto could tell that Aoyama had some gossip to share.

“My friends,” Aoyama said, peering over his brand-new bedazzled sunglasses, “have you noticed any changes in Iida’s behavior as of late?”

Shoto shook his head. Uraraka and Tsuyu considered the question thoughtfully.

“He does seem a bit less uptight,” Uraraka said.

“Exactly,” Aoyama said. “You see, I’m quite well versed in subterfuge. And I have reason to believe…that he’s dating someone.”

The table gasped, appropriately scandalized.

“Iida? Are you sure?” Uraraka demanded. “But that’s against the rules! Iida never breaks the rules!”

Shoto wouldn’t bet on that, but he didn’t say anything.

Aoyama leaned back in his chair, satisfied at the impact crater of the bombshell he’d dropped.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Tsuyu told him. “I can’t think of anyone Iida would break school rules for.”

“Except Midoriya,” Shoto said.

“Except Midoriya,” Tsuyu agreed, “but other than that—“ she froze mid-sentence as she realized the implications of her words.

“No way,” Uraraka gasped, swept up in the joy of gossip.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tsuyu said. “Aoyama, what’s your evidence?”

“I observed some marks in the locker room,” Aoyama said, “that were absolutely not from sparring. I believe Kirishima saw as well, you can ask him to corroborate.”

“Not Iida!” Uraraka said gleefully. “Oh man!”

“That doesn’t tell us anything,” Shoto said. “Not specific enough.”

There was no way Midoriya wouldn’t have told him. Or, wait, Midoriya did have a history of keeping secrets. Now that he thinks about it, it’s obvious that Iida is dating Midoriya.

“We shouldn’t gossip,” Tsuyu said primly. “If it is Midoriya, they’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

“Kirishima,” Todoroki said without preamble after throwing open Eijiro’s door, “I need to ask you something.”

It wasn’t often that Todoroki expressed curiosity, so Eijiro gave him his full attention while continuing to do sit-ups.

“What’s up, dude?”

Todoroki suddenly glanced surreptitiously around, as if afraid of being overheard, and quietly closed the door.

“Are Iida and Midoriya dating?” Todoroki asked. “Aoyama said you saw evidence that Iida was dating someone, and we couldn’t think of anyone else it could be.”

How had Aoyama seen anything? For all of his sparkling flamboyance, that guy was eerily stealthy.

“Aw man, I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, but I guess the jig is up,” Eijiro said. “Yeah, he’s dating someone, but it’s probably not Midoriya! Yeah, definitely not Midoriya.” Because they were fairly sure that Bakugo was dating Midoriya.

Todoroki nodded seriously, thoughtfully. “I see.”

There really was no such thing as stalking between friends.

Midoriya was easy to follow. His danger sense made him hyperaware of villains, but when it didn’t ping, he tended to assume he wasn’t being watched. And Ochaco and Tsuyu were very good at blending into a crowd.

“He’s going to that flower store,” Tsuyu whispered. “He gets discounts there since he saved the owner’s daughter.”

They watched from across the street as Midoriya exchanged some money for a small bouquet full of red flowers.

“Bingo,” Ochaco said.

They tailed Midoriya down the street to a cafe, but didn’t follow him in. About fifteen minutes later, Iida left. Carrying the bouquet.

“Holy shit,” Ochaco said. “We were right.”

Their quirks, as it turned out, made them quite adept at jumping…to conclusions. Neither would have any way of knowing that the bouquet found its final home on Bakugo’s windowsill.

Mina liked painting people’s nails. She couldn’t paint her own nails, but she loved the colors. Since Aoyama liked having his nails painted, they made good friends.

“So,” Mina hummed as she finished up the last nail before they joined everyone else downstairs, “you got any hot goss?”

“Oh, mon cherie, you know I do,” Aoyama said. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I have it on good authority…that Midoriya and Iida are romantically involved!”

Mina gasped. No, that couldn’t possibly be right!

“But I thought Midoriya was dating Bakugo?” she said, baffled. “Kaminari insisted that they were dating! Midoriya wouldn’t cheat…would he?” Midoriya was surprisingly good at keeping secrets. The guy had hidden depths.

“Our dear friend Midoriya, a two-timer?” Aoyama gasped, scandalized. “Say it isn’t so! We need to get to the bottom of this. How about we find a reasonable way to resolve this?”

“Or we could confront him in front of everyone,” Mina proposed.

“Let’s do that,” Aoyama said. “That sounds far more entertaining.”

“Midoriya!” Aoyama declared, banging the door to the common room open. “How could you?”

Everyone stared blankly at him.

“You two-timing bastard!” Ashido continued from behind him. “I thought you’d be good for Bakugo, and it turns out you’re dating Iida too?”

“What?” Izuku asked blankly.

Iida gasped dramatically. “Is this true, Midoriya? Are you…are you really cheating on me with Bakugo?”

The awkwardness and tension in the room skyrocketed. Everyone waited with bated breath for the inevitable confrontation.

“I’m sorry, what?” Izuku repeated.

There had obviously been some sort of miscommunication.

“What the fuck,” Kacchan asked the room at large, “is going on.”

At least Kacchan seemed to be out of the loop as well.

Iida dramatically pointed at Izuku, who straightened in his seat before he even realized he was doing it.

“You betrayed me,” Iida said accusingly, but Izuku saw a quickly suppressed smile quirk at the corners of his lips. “And with him of all people?”

“Holy shit, Midoriya, is this true?” Kirishima gasped. “How could you do that to my bro?”

“Iida, you bastard!” Kacchan yelled, and only Izuku recognized that he was absolutely doing a bit. “You stole my man!”

“Your man?” Iida repeated incredulously. “I had him first, you…you large-chested harlot!”

Iida and Kacchan stared at each other for a long moment as the whole class froze in anticipation of a fight. Kacchan was the first to crack. He dissolved into hysterical laughter, and Iida immediately followed, laughing so hard that he had to take off his glasses.

“Holy shit,” Kacchan wheezed. He banged his fist on the wall. “Holy shit, oh my God.”

“Will someone please explain to me what’s going on?” Izuku pleaded.

“You’re dating Bakugo, right?” Kaminari asked.

“No, he’s dating Iida!” Uraraka said.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Kacchan cackled. “This guy who can’t order coffee without saying thank you three times is cheating on two guys at once!”

“This is no laughing matter,” Iida insisted through bouts of giggles. “He’s seriously betrayed our trust!”

“Jesus Christ,” Kacchan said to everyone, “you’re all fucking idiots. I don’t even wanna know how this happened.”

“But wait,” Sero said, “you guys are both dating someone, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Iida said, putting his glasses back on. “Do I look like a rule breaker to you, Sero?”

“None of you extras are good enough for me,” Kacchan said.

They grinned at each other.

Izuku looked at Kacchan, then at Iida, and clapped a hand over his mouth. Holy shit.

Kaminari raised his hand. “But what about the morphine incident—“

“SHUT UP ABOUT THE MORPHINE INCIDENT!” Izuku and Kacchan yelled in unison.

“The morphine incident,” Kacchan declared, “has no bearing on my current relationship with that dumbass.”

“What about Iida’s hickey?” Kirishima called from across the room.

“You saw no hickey,” Iida insisted. “I would never have a hickey. You’re imagining things.”

“Cool it with the gaslighting, mon amie,” Aoyama said. “I also saw it.”

“You’re also imagining things.”

“Probably just Midoriya getting a bit too enthusiastic with the goodnight kisses,” Kacchan said.

“And we’re supposed to believe they’re not dating?” Shinsou muttered.

“Guys, guys,” Izuku pleaded. “Come on. I’m single, I promise. This is all just a big misunderstanding that we should just forget about!”

Seriously, how the hell did this happen? How did Izuku get dragged into this? Why did the class make up a love triangle instead of leaping to the obvious conclusion?

“Don’t bullshit us,” Shinsou said, pretending to not be interested in the conversation. “You two both have partners. Spill.”

Iida pushed his glasses up his nose. “I don’t trust you people to be normal about anything. And there’s nothing to say, anyway.”

He was probably right. About the class being normal about things, that is.

“You guys are so fucking stupid,” Kacchan said. This was the most he’d ever laughed in a single sitting, at least while Izuku was there to watch. “Do you honestly think I’d be dating someone?”

“Yeah,” Iida agreed. “Despite his devilishly handsome looks and surprisingly alluring personality, Katsuki doesn’t wash his mugs regularly and has horrible manga opinions. Not exactly boyfriend material.”

“And Tenya’s nice legs are nothing compared to the fact that he drinks orange juice straight out of the goddamn carton,” Kacchan said. “Dude’s face is a 10 but fashion sense is a 2. Who wears khakis to karaoke?”

“Since when are you two on a first name basis?” Kyoka demanded.

“It’s for platonic reasons,” Iida said. “I’m going to bed now, I’m afraid. Bakugo, if you’d care to give me my platonic goodnight kiss?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Shinsou said incredulously. “You two? Really?”

“Don’t be homophobic, Eyebags.”

“Oh my god,” Izuku muttered. “Everyone’s going to be fucking insufferable about this.”

Chapter Text

“Your hair’s getting long,” Hagakure noted. “It looks nice.”

Shoto started in his seat—that girl was really good at being sneaky.

“Thanks,” he said.

It wasn’t quite long enough yet to put all of it into a ponytail, so wisps of hair hung around his face, hitting his chin every time he turned his head. He hadn’t cut it in ages, at least a year. He liked the way it hid his sharpening cheekbones, the sense of softness it gave a face he was afraid would inherit his father’s severity. He was glad to have fireproof hair so it wouldn’t have to be shorn for practical reasons.

“It’s really cute,” Mina agreed. “I’m loving the softboy aesthetic for you.”

Soft boy, huh? Shoto had never thought of himself as particularly soft…though he supposed he was a boy, technically speaking. He’d never put much stock in his gender. He was a boy, sure, but it wasn’t like he had any say in the matter.

If he’d been born a girl, his old-fashioned father likely wouldn’t have put as much pressure on him. Wouldn’t have hurt him as much.

Shoto was a boy, but he’d have been good either way. If he were born a girl, he most likely wouldn’t have minded. It would have made things easier in a lot of ways, too.

Shoto lay awake in the night, one hand on his lips.

Uraraka had kissed him good night, and it made him feel different than all the goodnight kisses.

He couldn’t chalk it up to their closeness, because he was far closer to Midoriya, and Midoriya’s kisses felt just like how one would expect a friend’s kisses to feel. Yet Uraraka’s kisses made him feel funny inside. Light, unburdened, and just a little nervous.

Did he have a crush on her?

It would certainly be a reasonable assumption to make, but he didn’t think that was the case. He was fairly sure he wasn’t straight, even though he’d never had a crush on another guy. It was just a vague feeling of queerness, an alienation at the label of “heterosexual.”

It didn’t feel like he could have a crush on her. Like there was some piece of him missing. When he thought about himself in a relationship with another person, the vision of “Shoto” felt inauthentic. Like it would ultimately be a performance.

Still, he enjoyed being kissed by her. Maybe not at night, though, since it kept him awake with butterflies rather than sending him off to sleep.

Shoto looked at himself in the mirror, his hair undone. It fell down to his chin in a shaggy bob cut. He’d like it to be longer. He thought it might look quite pretty long.

He’d mentioned that to his father, who’d commented on its length.

“Be careful with what you wear,” he’d snorted, “or people will mistake you for a girl.”

He’d said it like it was some sort of media faux pas, a misperception that any good hero must avoid at all costs. As if it would be the end of the world if someone called Shoto a “nice young lady” instead of a “handsome young man.” Shoto didn’t see why it would be such a big deal. It might be kind of fun, to present androgynously enough that people would mistake his gender. Because it would be a mistake, obviously. What else would it be?

He brushed through it with great care. He never used to take good care of his hair, but he didn’t want it to get tangled. Momo had lent him one of her nice brushes, with an apology that it was so obviously feminine. Shoto didn’t mind. He liked elegant things. He just didn’t have very many of them.

Shoto wasn’t sure if he liked fighting against Bakugo.

On one hand, anyone who sparred with Bakugo regularly grew leaps and bounds as a result, because Bakugo was tenacious and an excellent fighter. On the other, the battles left Shoto with bruises and a bone-deep ache that left him unable to do much but sleep afterwards.

After every match, they collapsed together against the wall of the gym, wordlessly grabbing their water bottles and sipping until they regained the capacity to talk, which was usually very shortly before Bakugo regained the capacity to get up and leave, so their conversations were never long.

“You were tired today,” Shoto observed. “You didn’t put your full strength into it.”

“Eh?” Bakugo turned to him aggressively. “The fuck? Did you just accuse me of holding back?”

Shoto blinked. “Just observing. Are you tired?”

“No,” Bakugo scoffed. “But I fought Round Face in class today, and if I don’t rest my muscles after fighting her then Tenya gets on my fuckin’ ass about it.”

“I didn’t know you two were having sex.”

“What the—Jesus Christ, it’s a figure of speech!”

Shoto blinked. “Ah.”

“Anyway, I beat her, but even I can’t—“

“So are you?”

“What?”

“Having sex. With Iida.”

“Will you shut the fuck up? Do you ask these weird-ass questions to everyone, or am I just unlucky? How would you like it if I asked you if you were screwin’ Round Face, you bastard?”

“But there’s no evidence to suggest I am.”

Bakugo stood. “I’m leaving. Figure this shit out on your own.”

As Bakugo left, Shoto wondered what shit to figure out he was referring to.

When Shoto arrived in the common room, several of the guys were gathered around what seemed to be an Amazon package.

“I mean, it was addressed to the dorm,” Kirishima said, “so someone ordered it, right?”

“There’s no name,” Satou noted.

“You probably shouldn’t have opened it,” Midoriya said anxiously.

“Yeah, but dude,” Kaminari said, holding up what seemed to be a piece of clothing, “look at this!”

“Must have been one of the girls,” Midoriya said. “I mean, it’s a dress.”

“Oh, you sweet, summer child,” Kaminari said. “We need to get you a TikTok.”

Midoriya gave him a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I know. I’m just saying that they tailor maid dresses specifically for men nowadays.”

Kaminari spied Shoto and beckoned him over. “Yo, Todoroki! Get over here!”

Shoto complied. It was indeed a maid dress that Kaminari was holding up. It looked sized for someone slender, yet tall.

“Hey,” Kaminari said, “it’s just your size!”

Kirishima snorted in laughter. “Kaminari, oh my God.”

“C’mon!” Kaminari wheedled. “We gotta make sure it’s high quality!”

“Whoever ordered it is gonna be mad,” Midoriya warned, but he was grinning.

Shoto took the maid dress from Kaminari. “All right. It’s been a while since I’ve been dragged into a shenanigan.”

He changed in the bathroom—it fit quite well—and emerged. Kaminari wolf-whistled.

“You make a very pretty maid,” Midoriya commented. Shoto blushed.

“Oh, Ms. Todoroki,” Kaminari said dramatically, and for some reason something flipped in Shoto’s chest, “I’m afraid there’s a stain on my valuable Ming vase! And we’re having a grand dinner tonight, may you please ask the cook to prepare the usual? But clean the vase first, or the dinner is ruined!”

Shoto bowed with a straight face. “Very well, master. Shall I peel you some grapes while I’m at it?”

Kaminari waved his hand. “Yes, yes, quite.”

Satou’s booming, contagious laughter broke Shoto’s flat expression.

“Hey guys,” Momo called from the landing as she came down the stairs, “did a package come in? We’re putting together a game of Clue and—“

She paused as she came into view. Kaminari looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Hi, Yaomomo,” Shoto said. “There haven’t been any packages for you today.”

“I can see that,” Momo replied. “I think it fits you better.”

Shoto brushed a piece of hair behind his ear. “Thanks.”

Shoto wasn’t sure he liked being a boy.

He didn’t know what the alternative was. He didn’t know if there was a version of himself that he would like being perceived as. He used to think this tight feeling of inadequacy, the choking presence of an absence, was due to lack of skill. But he was better at incident response than most pros and well on his way to surpassing his father, and he just felt worse the more famous he got, the more people who called him a “promising young man.”

Things would be easier if he was born a girl. Better, even.

“Could you some on me?” Shoto asked abruptly.

Uraraka’s hand stilled in the process of applying blush. “Huh?”

“Makeup. I’d like to try it.”

“Oh, sure!” Uraraka said cheerily, and Shoto smiled a little for no reason. “I’m happy to! Any requests?”

“Make me look like a girl,” Shoto said.

“Can do. Gimme a sec.”

Uraraka finished her own makeup, then directed Shoto to sit across from her. She leaned in close, so close that Shoto could make out the little flecks of yellow in her wide eyes.

“Close your eyes,” she said, and Shoto didn’t want to, but he did. He felt something ghost over his eyes, depositing powder behind. Then a solid line. Something tugged at his eyelashes. “Okay, you can open them.”

She went on to concealer, then some foundation, then blush, then lipstick.

“I don’t often do a full face,” she confessed, “so this is fun! I can get some practice.” She sat back, and Shoto missed her closeness. “Okay, done.”

Shoto walked over to her mirror.

“Yeah,” he said, “I thought that might be the case.”

“What’s on your mind?” Uraraka asked, like she actually wanted to know.

Shoto still wasn’t used to being asked about his feelings, and he couldn’t quite pin them down. He blinked, and eyes made striking by eyeliner and mascara blinked. His lips parted slightly, and so did the lips of the person in the mirror. It was like seeing a glimpse of a letter in the rearview mirror. He didn’t know what the rest of the word was, but he wanted to read it.

“Uraraka,” Shoto said, “what if I’m not a boy?”

“I dunno,” Uraraka said. “Then what?”

Shoto shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think this far ahead.”

“I think you can be whatever you want,” Uraraka said. “I think you’d make a pretty girl.”

Shoto was glad that Uraraka couldn’t see his blush.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.