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These group activities were a bit of an adjustment.
His original class had them too, but no one was ever that adamant about his participation, so Hitoshi made the grand mistake of assuming Class A would be the same.
Well.
He can’t live his life inflexible.
Hitoshi drags himself back to the dorms covered in scrapes and bruises, and he’s pretty sure Aizawa is trying to kill him.
The storm he’s learned to expect when he comes back to this place is nothing more than a gentle breeze, and it would be a little alarming if it weren’t for the fact that all the lights are out.
And that would be a little alarming in itself if it weren’t for the fact that the TV reflection is bouncing off of Iida’s glasses from his place on one of the common room sofas.
This crowd does love a good movie night.
He could pretend like he hates it or at least finds it a great inconvenience, but really, what problem could Hitoshi have with the whole class having a reason to be quiet and chill out for a couple of hours without him having to use his brain.
And that’s definitely the only reason seeing them like this loosens one of the knots in his back.
Absolutely.
Hitoshi keeps his pace steady as he approaches. A sharp right will take him towards the rest of the living area, and he’ll be honest, even if he plans on darting off to his room for the night, he still smells like a wet dog. He still got his ass kicked. He still needs to brush his teeth for no obvious reason.
It almost works.
Denki sits up like a bright yellow dandelion, and even without his quirk, he’s electric. A quick spark travels up Hitoshi’s spine, and thank god for the low light or else someone might actually buy into that pesky rumor that Hitoshi actually does know how to smile.
He’s not sure who started it, but he has a feeling Denki’s behind it. He’s the only one who could have come up with something as ridiculous as that.
Baseless.
Absolutely baseless.
Hitoshi waves, a casual lift of his arm meant for no one as he darts around the corner, and he bites back a wince from the strained muscle in his armpit. Seriously, people aren’t meant to hang in that direction. Aizawa is trying to kill him.
His footsteps hasten because he’s apparently in a hurry, but the pat, pat, pat behind him has him almost dragging his heels across the carpet to slow himself down.
The corners of his mouth tug back back, and he chooses to ignore it
He also chooses to ignore the hey, wait up called out to him because why would he do a thing like that? Why would he purposefully slow down just for someone to catch up with him? He’s not that kind of guy.
Denki trudges a few steps ahead before turning around to walk backwards in front of him, and Hitoshi is pretty sure he’s still looking as cool about it as possible.
Look, this is a lot of attention to get used to on a lot of fronts, and Denki’s always beams straight towards him like Aoyama’s gut ray.
But he’s adjusting well.
Maybe.
His cheeks ache, but he’s not sure that’s Aizawa’s doing.
“How’d it go?” Denki asks, pedaling backwards without an ounce of fear or caution, and Hitoshi is pretty sure this is how people get concussions.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” Denki echoes because bullshit is too easy.
“I got my ass kicked,” Hitoshi amends.
Denki’s smile widens, and there’s a flicker of admiration there that he’s not sure people are supposed to be on the receiving end of after an ass kicking. Actually, he’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be at the bottom of the list. “Sensei’s awesome, right?”
Oh.
Yeah.
That makes sense.
He forgot for a minute that this group is insane and would take an ass kicking like the marker of a good day.
Well. It hasn’t been a bad day.
Classes were easy. Lunch was good. He actually slept for six hours last night. Aizawa kicked his ass. He didn’t come home to a battlefield. Denki is smiling at him.
Mediocre at best.
Maybe.
Okay, fine.
“You’re coming to movie night, right?”
Hitoshi takes a deep breath. That would be a no.
“I’m going to go take a bath and change out of my athletics.”
“After?” Denki asks, letting his voice linger on the word like anything about going back in there with him is supposed to be enticing.
“Does the movie suck,” he asks, and Denki shakes his head.
“Nope!”
Hitoshi squints.
“Oh, come on,” Denki complains. “Would I lie to you?”
“Probably,” he says, earning a Cheshire Cat grin. Hitoshi exhales again. Fine. “I’ll try to catch the end, I guess.”
“Sweet! I’ll save you a seat!”
That’s when Hitoshi realizes they’re at the showers, and Denki may be the kind of guy ready to jump in at a moment’s notice, but he’s pretty sure neither of them want that to mean he’s willing to watch him scrub his armpits.
Nope. Not today.
Denki spares him from having to ask for a little privacy and returns to the movie, and Hitoshi slips into the bath to wash away every trace he can of the last few hours spent training. He can’t do shit about the bruises, but as long as he gets the smell off, that should be good enough.
He gives himself a good thorough scrub down, but as much as he would love to stand under the hot water until his toes prune, he forces himself to leave it at that. If he misses the movie, or the last few minutes of however much of it is left, he’s going to look like a jerk, and Denki will be too busy tomorrow with his own training to bother with him.
Let the record show that washing himself as quickly as possible just to sit in the dark with his classmates does make him feel as stupid as he looks.
He skips any fancy colognes or creams, not wanting to turn himself into a walking perfume swatch and get the attention of every nose in the room, and darts off to his bedroom to switch into a pair of clean pajamas.
There’s no point in dressing up here, but a voice in the back of his head tells him it’s not good enough, that he’s not trying enough, and sooner or later, Denki is going to figure that out. Yeah, his quirk is interesting, but other than that, there’s nothing special about him. He’s not even nice. Denki is nice, and fun to be around, and Hitoshi is pointedly not fun to be around, so the fact that he’s hurrying back like this to go hang out with his class is stupid.
But he’s not going to go hang out with them, is he?
Denki is the one who asked, and as long as Denki is asking, the answer will always be a yes from him. He would be stupid to waste this kind of opportunity.
Hitoshi heads back, pacing himself so he doesn’t show up out of breath, and it’s a little pathetic how relieved he is to see that they’re all still there. That he didn’t miss the movie night.
Come on.
He, as casually as possible, rounds one of the sofas and scans the floor with laser eyes for an opening, but a hand quickly grabs his wrist and tugs him in the dark until he’s squeezed right between Denki and Sero.
He gives Sero a wary look because sorry for dropping on you like that, but Sero is too busy with whatever’s happening on the screen to care.
Right.
This group doesn’t make a big deal out of physical closeness. As long as no one is throwing any stray punches, no one really cares.
It’s been a lot to adjust to, but none of these changes have been a bad thing. Yet.
Denki shuffles next to him, and Hitoshi looks to see him watching him with wide eyes and a small smile he could barely trace the line of, and they’re so close, he can almost see the indentation Denki’s shoulder is going to leave in his side.
He shifts in his seat so they’re not jammed together, and Denki adjusts too, turning at a slight angle so that he’s somehow facing him and the television all at the same time.
Hitoshi almost considers resting his head on his shoulder, tucking himself into the curve of his neck for the rest of the night to recover from his training, but he ultimately decides against it. This group may be okay with touching, but even Denki would have his limits.
Denki leans towards him and whispers in his ear. “You almost missed the good part.”
Right.
They’re supposed to be watching a movie.
Denki lets his head drop down on his shoulder, and Hitoshi’s heart stops.
Just be cool.
Watch the movie, don’t get weird, and don’t make yourself the outsider who still has to be coaxed in. Be a part of this class, train with them, impress the pro’s who give and damn, and be a hero.
Don’t let your heart flutter for pretty blondes, no matter how good it feels.
Don’t lose focus.
Don’t–.
Denki wraps his arm around his, thoroughly settling in, and Hitoshi squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to calm down.
Steady your heart, don’t pant like a caveman, and stop acting like this isn’t what Bakugou and Midoriya are up to, or Kirishima and Todoroki for that matter, or–.
A warm hand slides against his, and Hitoshi blinks down at them locked together in the flickering movie lights.
That’s.
That’s not a Class A bonding activity.
They may all be weird and clingy and a little obsessive, but they’re not–. They don’t–.
Hitoshi lets out a deep breath, Denki gives his palm a squeeze, and the picture on the screen becomes an incoherent blur.
So this is what it’s like to have his mind taken over.
He’s done it to so many people, more lately than he ever imagined thanks to his training, but until this moment, Hitoshi has never experienced losing his head before.
So it’s like this…
No.
Nothing could be like this.
Denki feels good next to him. Hitoshi may be bruised and sore, but instead of focusing on the ache, it’s the warmth at his side and the way the undercurrent within Denki’s palms slightly numbs his skin that holds his attention.
He doesn’t know a lot about his quirk, never thought to ask because electricity is electricity, but here it is, not shocking him or zapping Denki’s brain to a crisp. It buzzes warmly within him, and Hitoshi leans into it and lets it settle into his side.
And maybe it’s a little stupid to think this, but he thinks his muscles on that side don’t hurt as much.
Maybe it’s just because he’s sitting still.
“Commander, the enemy was sighted at the Southern wall! What do we do!”
Oh right.
The movie.
They’re watching a movie with the rest of the class, which is what Hitoshi should be focusing on and not the arm wrapped around his. Denki is just enjoying the movie in a cramped space, and Hitoshi is the one who moved to get the sharpest point of his shoulder off of him. Denki is just compensating for that, so the fact that he’s holding his hand is nothing more than Denki being strategic, and–.
Denki’s thumb traces over his, and Hitoshi holds his breath.
Don’t have any obvious weaknesses.
Well, Sensei, I think I fucked that one up.
This movie isn’t great, but it’s close to becoming his new favorite, and he refuses to think about why that may be more than he has to.
So he watches it with them, giving in to the ominous lure of peer pressure, and it’s not long after he lets his guard down that his body follows quickly behind.
Don’t ask him how it ends, because he has no idea.
When Hitoshi blinks his eyes back open, it’s to a quiet, dark room, not his own, and somehow in the few minutes he drifted off, he and Denki switched their angles.
Hitoshi’s cheek presses against Denki’s shoulder, and the only light now comes from the glow of his phone as he scrolls through a feed of images, liking almost all of them because Denki is like that.
The notable weight of Sero’s presence on his right is gone, and with a quick glance, Hitoshi sees that everyone else in the room is too.
Except for them.
“Morning, sunshine,” Denki says, and Hitoshi doesn’t ask how he knew he was awake.
“Where is everyone?”
“They went to bed,” he says.
Hitoshi frowns, confused. “What?”
“Oh, the movie’s over, and it’s past curfew,” he says. “You missed a real hands in and break moment.”
“Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
“Because we’re not jerks,” he says. “You can take a little nap, we won’t tell.”
Hitoshi hums. Yeah, that checks out, actually.
“Then what are you doing here,” Hitoshi grumbles. “You’re going to get in trouble.”
“Oh no, I got special permission to personally get you back to bed since you’re so important.”
Hitoshi grunts, and he feels Denki laugh next to him more than he hears him. It’s the shake against his side and the puffs of a snort into his hair, and it’s an amusement he doesn’t need to see to know is there.
But he would like to.
Denki has the only smile he can look at directly, and whenever it’s aimed at him, it makes him want to try harder. Try what, exactly? Everything.
Heroics. Socialization. Math.
Just put a picture of Denki’s face on whatever anyone wants him to do, and he’ll get it done.
A year ago he would have called a guy like him pathetic, but here he is, soaking it in like a sponge and loving every minute of it.
He tilts his head up, not leaving his place on his shoulder, and he catches a glimpse of Denki’s teeth in the reflection of his phone.
Smile like that all the time.
Don’t stop for anything.
Be happy.
Let me be someone who makes you smile like that.
He looks kind of weird from this angle.
“Hey.”
Denki looks down at him. “What?”
“That’s better.”
“What,” he asks again, his mouth tugging back into a smile.
Much better.
Hitoshi shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, okay.”
His voice is so soft and raw from the late hour, hushed to keep anyone from hearing them, and it cracks slightly in his throat like water trickling through gravel.
Hitoshi isn’t the only one here who’s exhausted.
“Denks,” he says up at him.
“What is it, ‘Toshi?”
“Go to bed.”
Denki’s smile widens. “You go to bed.”
Hitoshi shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“I’m fine here.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Denki says, so close Hitoshi can feel his breath tickle his lips.
Hitoshi reaches over his lap and grabs his phone, not to take it away, and he turns it over to block out the light, leaving them both in the dark.
“Hey, why’d you–?”
Hitoshi pushes himself up past the few inches of space remaining between them, and he presses a single kiss against his lips in a way that he hopes isn’t too wet or brutish.
There’s a strangle pop of their skin peeling apart when he stops, audible but soft, and he hears it again the second Denki kisses him back.
No matter how quiet he tries to be, he can still hear every peck on top of the roar of the air in the vents and the quick puffs slipping out of both their noses.
He takes Denki’s cheek in his hand, and Denki cradles him, supporting all of his weight like it’s easy, and he kisses him both too quickly and too slowly all at the same time.
It’s like the first glass of water after a day in the scorching heat, and no matter how much he swallows down, he can never really get enough.
He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and he suspects that neither does Denki, but this isn’t about being perfect. This isn’t about being good at something.
This is about him and how much Hitoshi would give to kiss him every day for the rest of his life, and it’s about the way Denki tastes, and smells, and feels, and sounds, and looks. How everything about him is sensory heaven, and it’s about how his lips tingle slightly when Hitoshi takes one into his mouth.
It’s about every gasp of wonder, and surprise, and joy, and it’s about the way Denki kisses him like he needs to too.
He already knew this about himself, but now they both should know that whatever Denki wants, the answer will always be yes. Resounding and shouted from the rooftops.
Hitoshi has never had his feelings read so openly, and he’s never wanted to share them like this before.
Feelings.
Those pesky things.
Those stupid little heart sounds that have plagued him for a good part of his life because having them meant caring, and instead of shoving them away, here he is begging Denki to return them. To feel about him the way he does for him. To want him. To hear him coming down the hall and jump up from his seat. To take his hand. To kiss him.
Just like this.
Just like they are now.
Hitoshi pushes himself up, chasing Denki’s lips the entire time without stopping for a break, and Denki follows the flow without a question.
A fists tightens in his shirt as their heads tilt, moving together with an adapted practice, and he thinks for all of his life, the few very short years he’s lived on this earth, he’s never been happier.
Or at least, excluding his UA acceptance, his mentorship, and being chosen by his hero, but those are all different moments in their own separate category. Having his dream come true means everything to him, but Denki deserves his own special place with his own set of rules and expectations.
Hitoshi has known the joy of victory and accomplishment, but now he knows how it feels to kiss Denki, and he doesn’t see why he can’t have them both as his happiest moments in equal but separate ways.
This is the happiest he’s ever felt in the dark, and that deserves its own rank.
The smile that stretches across his lips must look ugly in comparison to his, but thankfully Denki wouldn’t be able to see it right now anyway.
Feel it, however, is a completely different story.
“What,” Denki asks quietly.
Hitoshi pulls back to catch his breath, tilting their foreheads together, and releases a deep sign. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not,” he says, moving back to his lips with the impatience of an angel. Of a Denki. “Tell me.”
“I’m just happy, I guess.”
Denki smiles, his teeth clipping Hitoshi’s mouth. “Bro, you getting sappy on me?”
Hitoshi scrunches his nose and pulls away. “No.”
Denki laughs and wraps his arms around his neck, and Hitoshi lets him win because this is a fight he would pay to lose. “Liar.”
“Shut up,” he says meaninglessly.
“You like me or something?”
“No,” Hitoshi says, and Denki’s eyebrows raise, and he’s not sure if that’s surprise or accusation, but either way, he immediately wants to take it back. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
Denki hums and looks over him, his arms sliding back to give him that space Hitoshi always needs so much, and like the helpless loser he is, he follows him because he doesn’t want that right now. No space. Don’t do that.
But Denki doesn’t let him kiss him, and Hitoshi’s heart stops.
Oh no.
Oh fuck.
No.
“Denks…”
“I like you,” he says. “I think you’re the best, actually. Like, I’ve always liked you. Ever since we first met, I thought you were so cool. So much cooler than anyone else, and I wanted to be your friend, and I wanted you to like me and think I was cool too, and I thought we could be hero partners maybe, and I thought you did like me because you’re so nice to me, and you don’t get mad when I steal your shirts, and I thought maybe it wasn’t all in my head, and you’re so cool, even Sensei thinks so, and I thought–.”
Hitoshi watches him, speechless, and the more his heart begs his mouth to say something, to stop this, his head keeps him quiet, and stupid, and helpless.
Denki’s lip quivers.
You cold, heartless, asshole.
You don’t deserve him.
Look at him.
“I like you, ‘Toshi,” Denki says again too quietly. “A lot.”
Hitoshi nods either that he knows or he understands, and he’s not sure which one of those two possibilities are true, if either could be.
How could Denki like someone like him?
In what world?
Not when he’s made him feel like this.
Not when he can’t fix it.
Denki takes a breath and turns away. “We should probably go to bed before security comes.”
“Denks.”
“I hope the movie is better next week,” he says. “I’m getting kind of tired of aliens.”
“Denki.”
Denki frowns, and Hitoshi drops his head on his shoulder.
The exhale he manages is so loud it almost sounds like a shout, but thankfully Denki doesn’t shove him off.
“I like you too,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s just hard to say.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
“Liking me is embarrassing?”
“Saying it out loud is,” he says. “Not you.”
“Why?”
“No one wants to hear a love confession from Count Dracula.”
Denki laughs, and it bubbles sweetly out of his throat. “Well, maybe I do.”
“No,” he says, and Denki has to muffle his laughter with his palm to stay quiet. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m sorry, it’s adrenaline.”
“I like you,” he says again. “I’m just stupid. I’ve never had feelings before, how am I supposed to tell you that?”
Denki puts an arm across his back. “I dunno.”
“See.”
“You like me,” he says almost as a question, and Hitoshi nods that he does.
“So much.”
“Really?”
He nods again and gives in to that earlier urge to curl into his neck and hide, but this time, he’s not hiding from his training but from Denki, who has now given him a reason to be mortified.
He wasn’t supposed to tell him like this.
He wasn’t supposed to tell him at all.
He was supposed to live his life cool with being one of his many friends, and now he wants to steal him away and kiss him until his lips crack.
Denki has no idea how deep in it he is, and now Hitoshi has to put it into words.
But this is something Denki needs to hear because it’s the truth, and there might be a part of him that believes it can’t be.
He can do this.
He can.
“So, love, huh?”
That little shit.
Hitoshi groans in distress.
He set himself up for that, and he knows it. He used the love word with his own, big, stupid mouth.
Denki’s not letting that go for a million years.
Fuck.
“That’s one hell of an upgrade,” Denki jokes, wrapping his arms around his neck and holding him tight, and alright, maybe this isn’t that bad.
Does he still want to die?
Yes.
Does he mind if he has to go like this?
Not really.
“Shut up,” he complains, fitting his hands around his waist. “No one asked.”
“I did.”
Hitoshi grunts in response.
“Alright, alright,” Denki says, breezily. “I won’t hunt you down for semantics. Not everyone can be as silver tongued as the rest of us. I won’t hold that against you.”
“Please, shut up,” Hitoshi says. “I’m begging.”
“Make me.”
Hitoshi sits up at that, flabbergasted.
Did he just–?
Really?
“Really?”
Denki’s bastard smile widens, and Hitoshi rolls his eyes before giving him exactly what he wants.
It serves him right for falling for an idiot.
No, Hitoshi is the idiot.
A big, stupid, mopey moron, and he’s going to kiss Denki like he has a debt to pay.
He’s so glad he had sense enough to brush his teeth earlier. That would have been a disaster.
“The Class President will soon walk around this corner to get a bottle of water,” Iida announces, giving them just enough time to break apart before he walks into the room.
Hitoshi moves a hop over on the couch so that they don’t look like two teenagers who just got caught making out on the couch.
God, this is embarrassing.
Not the Denki part.
The rest of it.
The whole situation that isn’t specifically Denki.
“Haha, sorry, Iida,” Denki says. “Hope you didn’t see any face sucking, because that totally isn’t what was going on over here. Not in this house.”
And now it’s Denki.
Iida presses a finger to the center of his frames and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I am not unaware of the allure of romance. I myself have a paramour, one could say, but it would be ungentlemanly of me to name them without their explicit consent.”
“It’s Uraraka, right?”
“Okay, we’re going to bed,” Hitoshi says, shooting up to his feet and strategically covering Denki’s mouth with his palm. “See you tomorrow.”
He gives Denki a nudge to follow him, and they both hurry back to their rooms without inflicting any more psychic damage. It’s probably the least they can do since Iida gave them a free pass to stay up a little longer.
Was that intentional?
Huh.
Guess he probably owes him one then.
Denki takes his hand for the walk back, bringing Hitoshi back like a full body splash of ice water.
Is this a thing they do now?
Can it be?
“Is this okay,” Denki asks, the most perceptive mind reader in existence.
“Yeah,” Hitoshi says and clears his throat. “Yeah, this is good. It’s fine. Yeah.”
He walks Denki back to his room and curses the fact that his is on an entirely different floor. What a sick joke from both the universe and the UA Housing Department.
Oh well. He could probably use the walk back to clear his head anyway.
Denki’s door is a sad sight.
“Hey,” Denki says, reaching out to grab his shirt, and Hitoshi lets himself be pulled to him without much of a fight. He’s never thought about Denki being shorter than him before because the difference isn’t really that much, but now that they’re like this, it’s hard to notice anything else. “Good night.”
He presses another kiss to his lips, one he fully intends to leave him with, and he thinks that– well, he can’t really think of much of anything right now, but he sure is thinking.
Just one more, and he’ll go back to his room.
One more.
Just one.
Denki hums softly, and Hitoshi does take that as his cue to pull back because if he doesn’t, he’ll never leave.
They should probably pace themselves a little.
“Night, Denks.”
Denki smiles at him, cheeks flushed and perfect, and Hitoshi doesn’t think it’ll be long before he can tell him absolutely every feeling he has right to his face.
If anyone could make it easy, it’s Denki.
There’s no way Hitoshi is going to get any sleep tonight.
Maybe tomorrow Aizawa will go easy on him.
Heh.
Yeah, right.
But he’ll make it work.
After all, he can’t live his life inflexible.
Hitoshi gets back to his room and immediately face plants his pillow.
He can’t believe that just happened.
All of it.
Please let it happen again.