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Hitoshi is stupidly happy. The kind of euphoria that puts a skip in your steps and makes you greet strangers on the street. Or more specifically, the kind that makes you leave the house at 8 in the morning to get coffee and breakfast for the boy sleeping in your bed.
Hitoshi can’t remember the last time he willingly woke up so early, but the only edible things in his kitchen right now are dry crackers, a banana and cat food, and he can’t have Izuku starving the first time he sleeps over at his place. He’s gotta make a good impression. Plus, he’s pathologically addicted to the smile that blooms on his pretty face when he eats pastries for breakfast—Hitoshi has seen it a few times barging into his office for a report first thing in the morning. So fuck sleep, Izuku’s getting whatever he wants.
When the barista finally calls for him, Hitoshi thanks her and picks up the order. He’s just a few steps out of the shop when his phone pings with a new message.
Izuku [8:32]: I made a terrible mistake
Shit. Hitoshi’s face drops. There’s not much context to the text, but everything seemed great when they woke up. Legs still tangled under the sheets, he peppered kisses on Izuku’s neck and Izuku hummed sleepily but pleased. He turned around to play with Hitoshi’s hair, told him it smelled good. He looked happy, didn’t he?
Okay—deep breaths. Hitoshi doesn’t want the panic to settle under his skin, not yet.
You [8:34]: What’s wrong?
His feet feel made of lead, but he tries to walk as fast as he can without spilling the coffee, hoping that Izuku didn’t just leave. If he’s still home, Hitoshi probably didn’t fuck up that bad and they can at least talk about it.
Izuku [8:35]: can u come back pls
You [8:35]: be there in 5
Hitoshi actually runs. He unlocks the door, toes off his shoes and doesn’t even bother putting them away properly.
“Izuku?” He calls into the kitchen still with his jacket on. He can’t see him anywhere, but there’s an ‘over here!’ coming from the training room.
Now actually worried, Hitoshi pushes the door open and—what he sees is nowhere near the dozens of possibilities his mind entertained. Not even close.
Izuku is on the floor, trapped in a bundle of limbs by Hitoshi’s capture weapon. Face down and wearing a shirt he must’ve snatched from one of the drawers, his eyes seem to actually water when he spots Hitoshi.
“I think I need help,” Izuku pleads, and Hitoshi really, really tries not to laugh.
“So…bondage huh?”
…He fails.
“This isn’t funny Toshi, let me out!” Izuku says, struggling against the bindings which tighten even more in the process. It makes him look like a kitten stuck in a ball of yarn, and Hitoshi is fighting fits of laughter and bursts of cute aggression with all his strength.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry I’m just—how did you end up like this?!”
“I got curious,” Izuku whines. “It was laying over there and figured I’d kill some time trying it out—I didn’t think I’d get stuck.”
Hitoshi sits cross-legged next to him, pulling Izuku’s body upright so that he can start untangling him. Izuku’s cheeks are red from embarrassment, a few curls stick to his forehead with sweat, no doubt from the exertion of trying to free himself. He looks so adorable, Hitoshi wants to eat him up.
He pulls the binding cloth with ease, expert with endless months of training, and Izuku sighs in relief, sagging against Hitoshi’s chest and resting his head against his shoulder.
“God, I feel so dumb. I really fell into it like a newbie! I put it around my neck like you and Aizawa do, and I thought I’d gotten the hang of it when I managed to wrap it around my own arm—cause there was no one else to capture here, right?”
He gesticulates a lot when he speaks, and Hitoshi follows the movements of his hands just as he usually fixates on the way his lips move. Avid for every drop of knowledge about his quirks and habits.
“But then my arm was stuck, and the more I tried to take it off the more it tightened around my body! I sat on the floor and I tried to use my foot, and then I just couldn’t move anymore?” He turns to face Hitoshi and it’s sickening, really, how pathetically obsessed Hitoshi is with him. Izuku might as well be the one with the brainwashing quirk.
Hitoshi kisses him. Sweet, sucking on his bottom lip in a way that makes Izuku’s body tense up in his arms, his toes curl from the heat. When they part, he brings the binding cloth in front of Izuku and speaks next to his ear, voice low and steady.
“When you throw it, you gotta make sure your arms stay out of the way, like this—” Hitoshi aims for the training bench and the binding cloth wraps neatly around it.
“Ohh, I see!” Izuku follows the explanation with interest, watching how Hitoshi retrieves the weapon and tries again.
“If you put it around them, or let it drop down your torso, it will tighten on you. It’s not easy though, so it’s really not your fault you got stuck,” he says, and he really means it. Doesn’t matter how much you’ve studied someone else’s movements, it won’t work properly until you try it yourself—Hitoshi learned it the hard way.
“You’re amazing, you know?”
Hitoshi shrugs off the compliment. He can’t help it, it’s a knee-jerk reaction that doesn’t go away no matter how many times Izuku does it. “You should’ve seen me the first times, Aizawa-sensei was patient but I’d get stuck like you at least twice a day.”
Izuku grabs Hitoshi’s face in his hands and forces him to look directly into his beautiful eyes. “That doesn’t change the fact that you learned eventually, and that takes an incredible amount of skill.”
Hitoshi scoffs, but kisses the palm of his left hand. “You had to learn how to use seven different quirks and you’re talking to me about skill?”
“Don’t deflect!” Izuku shoves him playfully. “I’m praising you.”
“Praise me all you want, but don’t complain if I trap you again in retaliation,” Hitoshi replies, laying on the floor and dragging Izuku on top of him.
Izuku straddles him like their bodies were always meant to fit, and Hitoshi chases the feeling of his skin tingling anywhere they touch, putting his hands underneath Izuku’s stolen shirt.
“Maybe I should do it anyway. You looked good all wrapped up for me.”
“Hitoshi!” Izuku blushes furiously, and Hitoshi takes the chance to flip them and lay him down on the wooden floor. One of Izuku’s legs wraps around his hips to keep him there, as if Hitoshi had any mind to leave.
“Sweet little thing—” He mouths along Izuku’s collarbone, drinking up the noises he makes like he could get drunk on it.
“Wanna go back to bed?” Izuku whispers, rubbing his cheek against Hitoshi’s unshaven face, and Hitoshi is so fucking gone for him that touch alone is enough to set off sparks of electricity underneath his skin.
All that trouble to get breakfast and now it’s gonna be cold by the time they’re done. Oh well, Hitoshi can’t really bring himself to care.