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Snow crunches satisfyingly beneath their feet as Denki and Shinsou walk back to the dorms from Gym Gamma. They’re the last to leave the locker rooms today, a coincidence that seems to be occurring more and more often lately. Snowflakes begin to fall lazily from the grey winter sky, too fine and too infrequent for either student to bother tugging up their hoods. Denki’s eyes follow the trajectory of one spiraling flake all the way to its final glorious destination.
Oh, to be a snowflake, Denki pines wistfully like the hopeless sap he is. Shinsou licks the tiny fleck of white off his cupid’s bow where it landed, and Denki dies a little at the sight of Shinsou’s darting pink tongue.
“Your lips are chapped,” Denki comments finally, realising he’s been staring slack jawed at Shinsou’s mouth for longer than what would probably be considered normal.
“Ah? Oh, yeah,” Shinsou agrees quietly, his purple gaze sliding to meet Denki’s before looking back down at the path before them. Their classmates have trekked through the snow ahead of them, leaving the pair to pick their way through deep footprints of varying size and shape. “They get like this every winter. The voice modulator doesn’t help.”
“Doesn’t that get painful?”
“I guess? When they crack. But I have” — Shinsou pulls open the flap of his UA messenger bag and rifles around inside — “some lip balm.”
Shinsou proudly presents the cheap stick of balm and Kaminari tries not to grimace, but it’s a close thing. That shit is awful. Watery crap that glides over your lips without moisturising them at all and then leaves them drier than ever once it wears off, which it quickly will. Shinsou would be better off rubbing the leftover bacon grease from breakfast on his face.
Fortunately, Denki has the perfect solution.
“Wanna come up to my room? I have some really nice stuff you could try.” His cheeks are red from the cold, Denki silently implores Shinsou to believe. From the cold.
“Okay,” Shinsou shrugs, his voice as nonchalant as his expression. He holds open the door to their dorm building and Denki stutters a little as he thanks him. Together, they quickly shuck off their boots in the genkan.
“There you two are!” Uraraka calls out from the kitchen as Denki and Shinsou pass by with a gentle dusting of snow still lingering on their shoulders. Behind Uraraka, Tsuyu-chan pauses with a knife in one hand and a carrot in the other, raising her brows. Sleeves rolled up past her elbows, Uraraka continues to wash rice under running water as she tilts her head quizzically. “Jeez, what took you guys so long?”
An audible snort sounds from the couch and Denki freezes. He shoots a slightly desperate warning glare at Hanta. “Something funny, dude?” Denki asks in a forcefully cheerful tone.
“Ha. Yeah, this game,” Hanta drawls, nodding to the television screen where Mario Kart is loading up a racetrack. He and Todoroki sit elbow to elbow. “Shouto keeps ending up at the back of the pack, neck and neck with Bowser.”
“This is like my second time ever playing—”
“Like, every time! And it’s starting to get suspicious, you know?”
“We could play Smash Brothers again if you prefer—”
“It’s almost like Toad and Bowser are doing it on purpose. ”
“...Is there a component to this game I’m unaware of?”
Denki’s eye twitches. “Ha ha ha that is so funny, dude. Todoroki’s right, you should give Smash Bros a shot instead. ALRIGHT, WELL, come on, Shinsou!”
Thankfully Shinsou allows Denki to drag him up to his room without commenting on the horribly un-subtle conversation he’d just witnessed.
Denki’s trying and failing not to overthink this. Most of his peers would teasingly say Denki’s not at risk of overthinking anything any time soon, but they’d be wrong. Sure, in the moment he’s usually laid back and goofy, starting sentences before he knows where they’ll end, going along with the mood. But even though he doesn’t think before he speaks, that doesn’t stop Denki from turning every word from the day over in his head as he struggles to fall asleep at night. Was he too annoying? Too inappropriate? Too loud? And the person currently entering Denki’s bedroom features heavily in those late night stress sessions.
Shinsou plops down on Denki’s bed while Denki has an internal debate over whether to close the door behind him. Eventually realising enough time has passed that it would definitely be weird for him to shut it now, Denki turns away from the half-open door and walks awkwardly over to his night stand to get the small pot of lip balm.
“Here!” Denki cheerfully proffers it. “This stuff is super nice. It’s got, like, agave in it.”
Shinsou carefully takes the small pot from him and unscrews the lid. “Uh. Do I just dig my finger in it or something?”
“Huh? Oh! Sorry, I guess you’ve always used the stick kind. Here, let me show you.”
It’s only after Denki’s balm-laden finger is pressed to Shinsou’s lips that it occurs to him he could have demonstrated this on his own freaking mouth. Gulping nervously, Denki commits.
Purposefully avoiding Shinsou’s understandably shocked gaze, Denki sweeps the salve over Shinsou’s top and bottom lips. They feel hot under Denki’s fingers, which are still chilled from the snow that still falls outside his window. It’s grown heavier now, darkening Denki’s room despite the early hour. Everything seems quieter now, too. He could believe they were in their own little world, tucked away in a perfect little snowglobe.
As Shinsou continues to permit the intimate contact, Denki can’t find it within himself to pull away. He stretches the pretence of a bro helping a bro with their skincare routine so far past the point of believability that it’s nothing but a forlorn speck on the horizon in the rearview mirror. Heart thrumming along to a beat that would not be out of place at an EDM festival, Denki is rigidly frozen leaning over Shinsou. Only the pointer finger of his left hand moves, steadily massaging the balm into Shinsou’s lips until it has been completely absorbed. After several long moments in which the only sound in Denki’s room is the pair’s matched unsteady breathing, Shinsou’s broken lips are soft and pink from Denki’s ministrations.
It’s only when Shinsou finally moves that Denki realises he’d been frozen, too.
“Thanks,” Shinsou whispers.
“Y-yeah, no problem. Um, do you want to borrow this or— Shit!” Denki fumbles and drops the glass pot of lip balm. Quick as Denki’s lightning, Shinsou snatches it out of the air.
“Don’t you need it?” Shinsou asks.
His eyes are fixed on Denki’s with an intensity he can’t read at all. He may as well be in Present Mic’s advanced English immersion class for all Denki can follow along in this upside-down moment.
“It’s fine, you need it more, and I can buy another, so…”
“Okay.” Shinsou smiles, and those are rare enough already to send an arrow through Denki’s heart. But the devious little twist in it?
That has his knees buckling.
Which makes it easy for Shinsou to suddenly pull Denki down onto the bed next to him. Denki’s body rotates as he falls and a second later he is laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling with a dazed, “Eh?”
“You should use some before I take the rest,” Shinsou explains. Denki watches, breathless, as Shinsou uncaps the balm once more. Is he going to do to Denki what Denki just did to Shinsou?
Indeed, Shinsou lightly presses the tip of his finger to the salve, gently coating it in the sticky substance.
It’s confirmed. Denki is about to die, and die happy.
But to his surprise, Shinsou applies the agave balm to his own thoroughly moisturised lips.
“What are you—”
Denki is silenced as Shinsou bends down to press his glossy lips to Denki’s own.
One long, slow kiss later, Shinsou pulls back a couple inches. “This is more efficient, right?”
“Right,” Denki agrees shakily.
“Also, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now.”
“Right?”
“I’m hoping you feel the same.”
“Ah—”
“I thought you might have figured me out. I mean, I’m always hanging back after class.”
“What? No, that was me? Hanging back?” Denki’s not even sure what he’s saying anymore. What even are words? What’s the point? Everyone should just kiss instead… Except as Shinsou pulls back a little further and anxiety creeps into his expression, it occurs to Denki that there are at least a couple words he needs to come up with before they get back to kissing.
“I like you!” Denki blurts out frantically to reassure him.
“Oh, good.” A tiny sigh of relief. God, Denki’s boyfriend is so cute! Wait, are they boyfriends now?
But that conversation can wait, because then Shinsou asks,
“Want some more lip balm?”
And Denki does.
He really, really does.