Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day after Midoriya’s birthday was warm, dreadfully so, made worse by the fact that their AC was broken and wouldn’t be fixed until Tuesday, leaving them in their thinnest clothes to waste the day watching TV on the couch. Because of it, Shouto had been cooling them off intermittently with his quirk and had taken to lying across Midoriya’s lap, resting his head against the throw pillows on the end of it. It was a sleepy kind of day, and Shouto had been tempted to take a short nap when the show they were watching—reruns of an All Might show they used to watch in high school—was interrupted by a thirty-minute break for the news.

He was doing that, resting his eyes and thinking about whether or not Midoriya would criticize him for eating more cake today—Midoriya liked it, he did every year, but his limits on sweets could not match Shouto’s, and it was so, so good. He wanted more. He didn't want Midoriya to tease him, however.

But notions of a pre-dinner snack were interrupted by Midoriya sighing and then making some other noise of disgust. Shouto cracked open his eyes, expecting to see Midoriya scrolling on his phone or checking a text from one of their friends, probably criticizing him for not taking care of the pile of partially opened presents at the door, which wasn’t completely true, Midoriya had taken out Shouto’s gift to him after dropping the rest of them at the door. 

Midoriya was wearing it now. A dark watch, made with materials so strong it could survive being blasted by 30 missiles, or so Hatsume gleefully said when Shouto picked it up. It also had a compass and a second clock. Completely practical, but also Midoriya had been bemoaning breaking phones and breaking other watches for over the past year and never actually knowing the time when he was on patrol. He had been excited about the compass, pointing his arm this way and that to watch it spin. It had been rather entertaining to watch him run around their home earlier when they first got up. 

Regardless, Midoriya wasn’t on his phone. He wasn’t staring at the mountain of gifts at the door, knowing he needed to get up and put them away, but he was much more comfortable where he was. Shouto was too. He didn’t want Midoriya to move. In case it was the heat, Shouto dropped his temperature down again as Midoriya sometimes ran nearly as warm as him until he heard his name—Hero Deku—from across the room. 

Shouto dropped his gaze to the TV opposite them. Shouto was unsurprised to see the news discussing Midoriya’s birthday party. They weren’t invited, but that didn’t stop them from talking about it. He watched himself and Iida arrive at the venue Uraraka picked out as she could completely reserve the whole place—with her girlfriend's help—and it was an otherwise fun evening. They didn’t have so many chances to just relax around each other’s company like that, and he knew Midoriya enjoyed it, even if he wasn’t such a fan of the news, reserving a whole segment of their program to talk about it. 

Only, as the segment was finishing did Midoriya’s original disgust finally make sense. While the media wasn’t allowed in the venue that hadn't stopped some entrepreneurs from staking the place out to capture a rather bad, grainy photo of Midoriya and Jirou out on the balcony, talking amicably to one another, both with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. It was Midoriya’s “ friend” smile too. The one that was softer around the edges and made him seem all the much more human. Of course, Midoriya had known Jirou for six years, so that sort of ease was expected but that didn’t stop the gushing tv personalities or the headline below them from reading, Is it love? Hero Deku and Earphone Jack seek private company during the Hero’s birthday celebration.

The type of statement one would expect to find in some trashy magazine covers not headlining the afternoon news. They were supposed to talk about important things, hero-like things if it must be about them, like the fact that Midoriya was late to his own party because he was rescuing kittens from a tree. If the picture quality was better, they would see the scratch mark on the underside of his chin or how the first thing Shouto did when he saw him was pluck a leaf out of his hair, earning him a rushed but sincere thanks. But they didn't know that and the picture was poor. The question was unfounded, no matter how much it unsettled Shouto’s stomach every time someone posed it, granted this was the first time Jirou got entangled in the mix.

“I don’t understand why they have to do this,” Midoriya said. “If they want to talk about my birthday, fine, but there were actual things going on yesterday that mattered, far more important than this.” 

He pointed to the tv. Although the picture was gone, the hosts of the news program were still talking about Midoriya’s birthday and the chances that Midoriya and Jirou were dating. A laughable point, considering Jirou was a lesbian, and Midoriya hadn’t asked anyone out on a date in literal years. He had occasional flings, but they never went anywhere, more so an excuse to release pent-up tension, or so Shouto told himself whenever Midoriya came home at 2am, smelling of alcohol among other things, crawling into Shouto's futon because his room was too far. It was next door. Midoriya hadn’t been in a long-term, vested relationship since Uraraka back when they were second years and still kids.

“It is Sunday,” Shouto said. 

The news was always slow on Sundays, and given the weather, most villains were choosing to stay inside. There probably wasn’t much else to report on. Besides, it certainly made Shouto’s life easier when the news decided to run segments such as these. He would come home to their shared apartment, finding Izuku floating upside down from their ceiling because he had been just trying to grab coffee with a friend but now he was trending news. Midoriya, by nature, was a very enthusiastic friend. Shouto blamed Uraraka for that, mostly. Midoriya liked hugs, and Shouto swore he had a unique smile for all of their friends, and he was a fantastic listener, though he could also talk for hours, and sometimes, sometimes, Shouto could convince himself, just as the poor news anchor who once thought they’d be talking about serious breaking news, that Midoriya had indeed fallen in love with someone.

However, the illusion would break as soon as Shouto opened the door, and Midoriya splatted to the ground in a broken whine about how and why his career got to this point. 

Shouto blamed his cheeks. 

And his smile. 

Eyes. 

Midoriya in general. 

Midoriya was more or less the poster child for the perfect boyfriend. It made sense someone would want to snatch him up, and for outsiders to speculate on who that person may be. 

Unfortunately for all of them, though not Shouto, no, Midoriya was painfully single. Therefore, he was perpetually stuck in the loop of being seen outside with an acquaintance and everyone running to the closest tabloids—or app—to post and comment on it. A vicious cycle indeed.

“That’s not the point,” Midoriya said.

Midoriya Izuku didn’t pout because he was the number one hero and all, but his lip was jutting out just a tad, enough that Shouto could feel a smile threatening to undo him, even though he knew that this was, ultimately, bothering his friend.

It wasn’t as if Midoriya was the only hero people speculated about. It could have just as well been Shouto, and it was him often. Weeks ago Sero had taken him fishing, swearing that he’d love it—Shouto marginally did, but he could just as well never go again—and someone had caught the moment his friend pulled a beige bucket hat over his head. There was that time Iida and Uraraka went out, and the frenzy around them got so bad, Uraraka decided that her private relationship would be no more and spent the next year of interviews, gushing about her girlfriend no matter how much hosts and others wanted to talk about different things. These speculators were almost always proven wrong, no matter who was in the spotlight, but that didn’t stop them from doing it. Shouto had long assumed that they would continue to be topics of gossip until they aged more into their roles and a new batch of hotter and marketable young heroes emerged, no matter how annoying it was now. 

Or well, that was Shouto’s perfectly reasonable plan—dutifully ignore it for all time—unless, of course, Midoriya suddenly woke up one day and decided to love him unconditionally, asking to be his husband…boyfriend, boyfriends came first…but as he said, reasonable plan. Not absurdity. 

Leave it to Midoriya to come close to that. 

“I was just talking with Uraraka about this very thing last night and how its never going to stop unless I do something about it.”

Shouto didn’t exactly know what Midoriya could do to circumvent it altogether. Technically, Uraraka’s plan worked, but it still came at the cost of her privacy. It was a shame, despite Shouto's own quandaries about ever dating, he knew Midoriya had serious reservations about ending up alone once they could no longer be heroes. Midoriya believed in finding someone special and loving them most ardently. He wanted it more than either of them could put into words. Shouto saw whenever Midoriya stared after a couple holding hands on the street, or how he cried when Mirio and Tamaki got married two years ago. It was how he put the weight of his job ahead of this want. Because the burden that being the number one was, was not something he wanted someone else to shoulder. 

Or so Shouto thought because the following statements from Midoriya spoke nothing of this unsaid fear, and only about his annoyance at being gossiped about. Perhaps it finally got to the point where the latter outweighed the former. 

“You don’t see Kacchan and Hitoshi on the news since they started dating, and Kacchan was always on the news before” Midoriya said, “and if you see Hagakure-kun it’s only because she’s wedding planning, not because Eijirou-kun was helping her and oh what could that mean. No one wonders if Eijioru-kun is trying to steal someones fiancé.”

Shouto might have miscalculated how bothered by this Midoriya truly was if it as it was coming close to the type of rant that Midoriya got into when someone said Bakugou wasn’t worthy of being a hero, or Uraraka was wasting her time focusing so much on rescue missions. This wasn't real. It was wall rumors and bad pictures. Still, Midoriya was heated, warming their apartment even more. 

“It’s obvious they’re never going to stop unless I start dating someone,” Midoriya said.

Shouto tried to ignore the sideways beat of his heart when Midoriya said it. Shouto had grown too comfortable like this. Too comfortable in knowing he had the most shared secrets with Midoriya. Too comfortable in their shared home where many guests came but only he and Midoriya stayed. Too comfortable indeed—Shouto was currently spread across Midoriya’s lap, Midoriya's hands were over his stomach, a future partner would certainly have issues with that. 

”And despite their many articles, I don’t have suitors lined up outside my door.” If only Midoriya knew. “So, it’s not like I can go out on the street, asking for volunteers. I’d have to do this smart, logically. It couldn’t be anyone. It’d have to be someone I get along with and could see myself with for many years to come, someone I trusted. But trust is earned, and I need to start somewhere, obviously.”

“Is this just a long winded rant to tell me you’ve downloaded a dating app but are too worried about bringing someone home? I have noise canceling headphones. They were a gift from Natsuo. Also Kaminari still has that sock, I think, but you could always just use your own. Maybe not All Might themed if you’re open to suggestions.” 

“Shouto-kun. No.” 

The scandalized note in his voice was a nice touch. It quelled a buddying worry building in Shouto’s chest as he rolled over from facing the tv to facing Midoriya who was blinking up at the ceiling, a deep flush spreading down his neck to his bare shoulders, practically glowing against the white of his tank top. Shouto waited to say more until Midoriya was ready.

Did it? There was that recent issue with that dark-haired guy, but Shouto couldn’t really say he was mad. Annoyed, yes. But angry enough to sympathize with Midoriya’s plea? It would be nice, ultimately, to go out to dinner with a co-worker or walk a city street with a friend and not have it generate conversations about where he may go from here, or how he might be “snatched” up as if Shouto was some object to be won. Further, it was awful to agree to do an interview, thinking they were going to talk about a hard-won battle or rescue, but the only thing people seemed to care about was who might possibly be warming his bed at night. The only person in Shouto’s bed, was himself, and coincidentally, Midoriya, whenever Shouto had nightmares, but that wasn’t what the public wanted to hear, so he never offered it. He only swallowed his own discomfort and worked this way through a five-minute interview, jesting lightly with the host, about how painfully alone he was, still, and forever, if Midoriya was planning on starting to date now. 

Perhaps Shouto should reconsider his life plans for the next forty years. It couldn’t be so hard to pretend to like someone, right? It might not feel the greatest at first but maybe he could learn to love them as he currently loved Midoriya. No, no that was impossible. Shouto was going to die, happily, alone. 

Only, Midoriya was talking again, putting forth more of his plan, which somehow didn’t result in him putting himself out there and trying his hand at dating and convincing Shouto to be his wing-man on the promise that Shouto could find someone too. 

No, of course not, that would be the simple, easy solution, and Midoriya had a knack for avoiding plans such as that. 

“So since we’re both bothered by it, there really is an obvious solution that will help us both out in the end. Simple really. We just need to date each other.” Simple. “Not really, of course,” of course, “ Just pretend, so as long as everyone outside this apartment thinks that we’re in love. It will be a big ruckus at first, I’m sure, but then things will calm down, and everyone can go back to talking about things that actually matter.” 

Like the fact that Shouto was pretty sure he was about to die, perpetually stuck at date each other, and how blasé Midoriya sounded saying it. Like it was something he had thought about before. Only, no, he hadn’t, he had said so himself. Uraraka and him had been talking last night about this. This plan, or whatever it was, was a byproduct of that. It had to be. There was no other way Midoriya would solve the conundrum of I need a boyfriend with I’ll date Shouto-kun to avoid the media of all things.

“And don’t worry,” Midoriya continued, “once you want to start dating seriously, we can call it off. I won’t be mad or hurt by it. Hopefully, by then people will stop caring to speculate about my life, and everyone can be happy about it.”

Shouto wondered what would happen if he just simply never got a partner. Date Midoriya in perpetuity forever? Wasn’t that a thought? 

“You want us to be fake boyfriends, so people stop talking about your non-existent dating life?”

“When you say it, it sounds ridiculous.” 

“It sounded ridiculous when you said it!”

“So that’s a no?” Midoriya frowned. He shook his head. “Just forget I said anything. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

Midoriya might have been just a little idiotic. Unfortunately, Shouto had a penchant for being an idiot too because there was no reasonable reason to think about it further than that. Midoriya was already moving on, pointing out how the show was back on now, and how it was Shouto’s favorite arc, and he really shouldn't miss it. 

However, he was also saying things like, “I can go to my room, too. I should just go. Get up Shouto-kun. I’ll pack a bag and sleep on Ochako’s couch or Kacchan’s or my mother’s. My mom probably needs help moving furniture or something anyways. Come on. Don’t keep me here. I’ll still order dinner for you, so you don’t have to talk on the phone. I’ll do the dishes for the next week. Laundry for the next six months. I’ll move out tomorrow. We never have to talk about this again. Imsosorry.” 

Now, here was a perfect example of why Shouto couldn’t blame all of Midoriya’s ludicrous schemes on him. Because Midoriya might have insane ideas, which oftentimes worked, but Shouto was almost always the first person to agree to them, no matter the scenario. So while Midoriya was contemplating the fastest way out of this room, made difficult by the fact that Shouto had practice in staying put when he didn’t want to move, Shouto was quickly analyzing all the things that could potentially go wrong, stumbling toward a fervent answer.

He, Todoroki Shouto, had the chance to date one best friend and embarrassingly secret crush, Midoriya Izuku, for an unspecified amount of time. There was literally no drawback that would get Shouto to leave this at that. 

“Yes.”

“Excuse me?” 

Midoriya froze where he was, bruising Shouto’s back with his elbow, halfway achieving his goal of sliding out from underneath him. His hair was sticking to his forehead in his exertion to get out from underneath Shouto that didn’t result in him using his quirk or possibly upsetting Shouto further by releasing his unnatural strength—as if getting carried by Midoriya with one hand was a bad thing—but Midoriya already thought he was on thin ice, trying to move without disrupting Shouto’s peace was albeit comical and something Shouto would laugh about in virtually any other scenario. 

“I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” 

Now, it was Midoriya’s plan; he should have been expecting a yes. But his mouth had fallen open, a leg he had been holding up, dropped to his shoulder, and his eyes were wide and saucer-like. 

“Just so long as the media can get to reporting on the things that really matter, right? It is annoying being asked those questions in interviews, and we already know everything there is to know about one another, so it should be easy. I could see why you would choose me out of all of our friends.”

For a brief flicker of a moment, entangled as they were, Midoriya looked as if he was going to argue a point. Instead, he nodded. 

“We do live together, that’ll help too, I think. I’m glad we’re on the same page. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

“You could never make me uncomfortable, Midoriya.” 

Midoriya was slow to nod, taking the opportunity to fully get out from underneath Shouto and sit haphazardly in front of the couch. He looked a mess with his tank top sticking to him in parts and an uneven flush across his cheeks. 

“Okay, so, boyfriends?" Midoriya tried. "I’m going to have to get used to saying it, but we’ll be fine—it’s not like we’re actually dating, so there’s nothing to ruin if we mess up. Not that I think you can mess up pretending to date someone. At least I don’t think? We’re still best friends.”

Shouto nodded because it sounded like a question, and Midoriya breathed out through his mouth, nodding with him. 

“Okay, we’re good. It’s good. Fine even. Okay. I am proud to be your not-real boyfriend, Shouto-kun.”

And maybe, it hurt just a tad, in that piece of Shouto’s heart that harbored any romantic feelings for Midoriya lay. But it had hardened years prior. Shouto had gotten used to ignoring it. It didn’t matter if Midoriya would never see Shouto that way, and it wasn’t like he was using his best friend. It was mutual. They both benefited from it. At the end of the day, this could be something they laughed about with Midoriya’s wife once they were all retired or something. 

Yes, just a silly stupid idea of two, well one, idiotic young adult with a habit of not being able to say no to his best friend. 

Dating Midoriya was ridiculously easy. 

*fake dating Midoriya was ridiculously easy. 

On the first day, Shouto woke up to homemade breakfast. It was not the first time Midoriya had ever thought to make him a meal—they loosely took turns—but it was the first time Midoriya had ever tried to draw him a flower overtop his eggs, which caused Shouto to blink up at him after the plate was set down, and Midoriya to rub the back of his neck and say, “I figured it would be good to have a story or few, and it’s not lying if we actually did it,” which opened up a whole world of new possibilities. 

Shouto had gone to bed last night thinking he’d only be able to pretend to be Midoriya’s boyfriend outside of the apartment. But inside too? 

Shouto decided to help Midoriya into his coat while he spoke quickly with his mom, seeing as their upcoming week was supposed to be busy, and he wouldn’t have another chance at it again. They both said goodbye to the receiver before Midoriya hung up. He abandoned the phone in his pocket, made sure he had his wallet in his other pocket, and did a cursory pat down of himself before he grabbed Shouto’s hand and led them out the door. He held on tight all the way to the train. 

It was easy. 

Shouto didn’t realize how often they were already alone, and how many times that, now, could be construed as two boyfriends in love, who wanted to spend every moment together. Perhaps Shouto wasn’t so perturbed by the switch in pace because he already wanted to spend so much time with Midoriya and fake dating was just the next excuse. Though, he also thought it possible that he had imagined this possibility so many times, it was simply pulling on his favorite sweater and going about his day unencumbered. 

So, they held hands while they walked, and Midoriya stood centimeters closer to him on the train while it jostled back and forth, even grabbing Shouto’s elbow once or twice to steady himself. It was lunch breaks, sometimes entertaining other people in their respective offices, but also, mostly spent alone in content silence or, if Midoriya had a particularly interesting morning, listening to him talk about it. Shouto didn’t try to fight the smile on his face—he used to, a lot, actually—but he figured if anyone walked in on them, it would help sell that they were in love, just a little. It was Shouto’s excuse if Midoriya ever asked. He didn’t. He smiled for Shouto too. 

One night after a later shift, Midoriya changed the path of their walk from the agency to the train, tugging him along to a small restaurant neither of them had ever been to. Midoriya explained that he found it while looking up restaurants for cute dates. The idea of Midoriya thinking of him, thinking of dates, made Shouto’s heart swell. It didn’t matter that this was all fake. Having Midoriya’s attention such as this was enough to last him a lifetime. 

“I get to choose where we go next week,” Shouto said as Midoriya led him inside.

“Weekly dates?”

“Is that too much?”

“No,” Midoriya said, “no, but we can’t just go out to eat. We already do that. We might need more.” 

It was true. Shouto might have to invest in a notebook to begin writing down all his ideas on where and what they could do now. He didn’t think it would be much different than all the stuff they already did, but it would be special because they got to hold hands now—to onlookers that was.

The restaurant was a quiet place where they could sit anywhere. Midoriya chose a booth near the back, away from any other patron, which was fine with Shouto. Too much talking and the sounds of people eating bothered him immensely, and he wanted to enjoy his extra time with Midoriya. Midoriya, who instead of sitting opposite of him once Shouto sat down, pushed Shouto further along the bench, capping it off at the side. Only once comfortable did Midoriya pale somewhat and ask if it was okay. Shouto’s smile threatened to return, so he just slid his hand into his, squeezed, and nodded. More than alright. 

Midoriya didn’t allow himself to be awkward for long. He wanted to go to the video store tomorrow before work to pick up the DVD box set of the All Might show they were watching the other day because they were both now invested, and he wanted to start from the beginning rather than try to catch reruns down the line. Shouto had to remind him that he had a meeting in the morning, but Shouto could stop there instead, earning him high praise and a smile that stretched ear to ear. 

Shouto wondered if it would be rude to take a picture of his non-boyfriend. People might ask, right? It would be good proof. Only, before he could pose this question to Midoriya their waitress arrived, appearing more flustered than either of them, and they were on a date.

“Midoriya-san, Shouto-san,” she said, swallowing her nerves. “It’s an honor to have you here.” 

Midoriya, ever ready to slide into his public persona as a hero, was quick to reassure her that it was no honor whatsoever. He was always happy to try a new place. Further, “Shouto-kun deserves to be taken on a nice date. Don’t you think?”

The girl nodded and stumbled through the question of asking what they wanted to drink. Two teas. Decaf. And Midoriya wanted to start with a salad because he was low on greens for today. She scurried off.

Once she was out of earshot, Shouto leaned closer to him, as this was a secret, “what was that?”

Midoriya turned toward him, causing them to almost bump noses. Shouto pulled back to not accidentally hit him. Midoriya tilted his head regarding the question before saying, “not much use for us to fake date to quell other rumors if people don’t hear about it. How much do you want a bet, she’s tweeting about this right now?” 

“You know better than to try to place bets with anyone other than Uraraka,” Shouto said.

“That’s just because you know I’m right.” 

“No,” Shouto amended, “it’s because we’re going to get an earful tomorrow when our respective PR agents ask why we didn’t talk to them first. They'd have wanted us to schedule an interview or something. Would that have been too hard to do?”

“Absolutely,” Midoriya said, “this is far more fun. Plus, they would have made us wait forever to publicly go out, figuring out interviews and what not, and I wanted to take you on a date now.”

Shouto didn’t point out how Midoriya could have taken him out whenever. Dinner was dinner. It didn’t have to be special. It didn’t have to be a date most certainly. 

And it wasn’t. 

It was not. 

Fake. 

Shouto would be good to remember.

Yet he sat there stupefied through dinner, being fed cake from Midoriya—free cake, no less, since the staff at the restaurant appreciated their work so much—and then Midoriya had the further audacity to lick his thumb, bring it to the corner of Shouto’s lip to wipe the icing there off before sticking his thumb in his mouth, humming around it in content. 

Midoriya was too good at this. He really could have been dating anyone. 

Shouto was pretty sure their whole class had had a crush on him during high school but were content to see him happy with Uraraka, and then all cowards once it was over. However, the number of people who had crushes on Midoriya must have skyrocketed once he became a pro. There was no way, no way in hell, Shouto was the only one who was subjected to a rapidly beating heart at just the brush of Midoriya’s hand against his. How would he survive further once it was clear Midoriya, for the time being, had no intention of ever letting him go?

At least Midoriya was having fun. 

He practically skipped all the way to the train station. When they found a seat, he pressed his whole body, shoulders to heels, against Shouto, so they could watch a video to make the ride go faster, sharing headphones, meaning they couldn't stray far away from one another. The light of the screen reflected Midoriya’s eyes, making them glow teal instead of jade. Beautiful regardless. 

Midoriya made a soft, little noise when Shouto decided it was his turn to grab Midoriya’s hand first when they got to their stop but didn’t give Shouto a chance to lead them out first—always taking charge, he was—but that was okay; Shouto liked following. Midoriya had yet to ever lead him afar. 

It took the news cycles a day and a half to catch wind of what was happening, and they would have been completely naive to it had they not gotten a visitor that day. 

Shouto was sprawled across Midoriya’s lap under two blankets and a hoodie as Shouto used his quirk to warm them up. Their AC was broken, again. Now, stuck perpetually at, “cold as fuck,” as Midoriya had said that morning when he tried to fix the thermostat. Shouto couldn’t complain too much. He much enjoyed winter Midoriya, and this was a special treat, after all, in the middle of summer. 

Across from them, All Might was just about to tell Nana Shimura that he had made up his mind, and he couldn’t be a hero for just Japan, no matter how much she convinced him not to go. She made a compelling argument, but it was apparent in All Might’s eyes, or the cartoon approximation of All Might, that his resolve could not be shaken.

“Nana was always my mom’s favorite character,” Midoriya said above, between bites of popcorn, “she liked how reasonable she was.” Midoriya chewed, “that and the fact Nana absolutely was against going to America when Japan needed good heroes just as well.” 

“Your mom must have been thankful you never considered America then,” Shouto said. 

Midoriya had a list of sponsors greater than the number of people who wanted Shouto to intern for them after his first sports festival. He had his pick of the whole world, yet chose home and then offered to split the rent somewhere with Shouto, so he didn’t have to live at his father’s house again. It would have been fine if Shouto had, but he was never too eager to go back nor did he want to travel too far and be away from his mom and sister.

“I think she was expecting it,” Midoriya said, “All Might fanboy and all. But everything I’ve ever needed was right here in Musutafu. It didn’t make sense to leave.”

“Except for a boyfriend,” Shouto said. He mused, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “or a girlfriend.” 

Midoriya jostled his knees almost causing Shouto to choke, not that Midoriya would intentionally hurt him, though Shouto did grumble as he had to readjust himself on his lap again to get comfortable. 

“Your boyfriend is conveniently missing today, as well, Shouto-kun.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shouto said, reaching up to tap Midoriya on the cheek. “My boyfriend is right here.” 

Midoriya rolled his eyes, and Shouto was ready to fall back into a comfortable silence, paying attention to the show again—Nana and All Might had been interrupted by villains for this episode's fight piece—only, Midoriya did have something more to say.

“Well, then, can you grab my water for me, love ?” 

Shouto did choke that time, hacking his way right off Midoriya’s lap, rolling onto the ground, so he could bury his face. He didn’t know what made his face redder, the coughing fit, or the looping love on repeat in his head. He sensed Midoriya begin to move, even apologize, but Shouto beat him at grabbing the bottle off the table ahead of him, sitting up on his knees before shoving it into his outstretched hands. 

“Here you go, babe,” drawing the word out in one muted note.

Midoriya proceeded to drop the bottle in his rush to say, “don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?”

“You’re making fun of me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You are!”

Shouto’s demeanor cracked, just a little, “I’m sorry, darling, I won’t do it again.” 

“Shouto-kun!”

“Angel? Light of my life? Sugar?”

They both scrunched their noses at that one. Midoriya recovered first, grabbing a throw pillow and swatting him. Shouto deflected it easily enough with his arm, providing Midoriya with additional attempts of sweetie pie and baby, which Midoriya apparently didn’t appreciate, deciding to launch himself at Shouto to smother him into submission instead. Shouto caught his elbow on the table, and he was rather proud of the jab he managed to get to Midoriya’s stomach between being battered by a pillow and fits of giggles.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he said, struggling underneath Midoriya before triumphantly snagging the pillow and whacking it against his shoulder for the attempts on his life, then tossing it out of reach to keep from further retaliation. “You’re the one who started it.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I could add some more romance to our fake dating life.” 

“Is that what it was?” Shouto was rather cocky for having a full-grown number one hero on his lap, glowering at him. “Because no offense, dear , but I’ve known you for years, and not once have I thought of you as being overly romantic.” He pondered it a moment more. “Maybe that’s why Uraraka broke up with you.” 

“Ochako didn’t break up with me because I didn’t use the appropriate pet names. She broke up with me because,” Midoriya frowned, shaking his head and returning to the topic at hand, “I can be romantic and endearments are super fun. All the best boyfriends call their partners something cute and unique. It’s a testament to their love.”

“Prove it.” 

In hindsight, Shouto should never, not once, ever challenge Midoriya to anything. They were both competitive, but whereas Shouto was okay with conceding on most things, Midoriya did everything with victory in mind. It was why on Wednesdays when Midoriya and Bakugou booked their agency's training grounds, Shouto gave the area a wide berth to not get roped into their hijinks, or worse, have to break the inevitable tie that came out of it, or why once when an internet troll claimed he knew more about All Might then Midoriya ever could, Midoriya proceeded to more or less write All Might’s whole autobiography on twitter in under twenty minutes. Whenever there was this special glint in Midoriya’s eyes, Shouto knew the hero had won, and whoever they were facing was about to lose, tragically. 

Unfortunately, the idiot who had decided to challenge Midoriya today was Shouto, who was still rather underneath Midoriya.

Midoriya lowered himself, carrying his whole weight on one hand, now positioned next to Shouto’s head. The universe had only offered to spare Shouto this, the fact that Midoriya was in an oversized hoodie, so Shouto couldn’t ogle at his muscles while they tensed to keep himself upright. Midoriya smirked, and Shouto had to work through some of the breathing exercises his therapist taught him, minutely, so as to not cause a scene while Midoriya got his stupid little nickname out of his system. 

“Be a good boy, Shouto-kun; let me call you love.” 

Only years of training and control spared the couch from going up in flames beside them, though Shouto saw, more than he felt, that part of his body began to glow in warmth, causing Midoriya’s smile to only grow. The bastard.

His tongue was fat in his mouth. Unable to tell him no. Unable to tell him, yes, please, call me whatever you want, as long as you continue to look at me like that, like some sort of middle schooler with a crush, though with Shouto’s history regarding his unsaid feelings for Midoriya, that was rather accurate.

“Well?”

Shouto swallowed. He thought about nodding, but he knew Midoriya would only consider it a win if Shouto said it out loud. Maybe not as desperately as his thoughts were suggesting, but a good nature, sensible response such as why yes, my dearest fakest boyfriend, we most certainly should continue this as it aids in our lie, never mind the fact that I am certain it will kill me.

However, Shouto was saved by an unlikely angel.

“Was that the door?”

“Don’t change the subject, love,” Midoriya said, “tell me what I should call you.”

“Deku-kun! You better open up before I knock this door down.” 

Midoriya’s head snapped up. “Oh shit, it was the door,” quickly jumping off of Shouto and bounding to the door before Uraraka made good on her promise. 

It allowed Shouto precious moments on the floor to recollect himself, allowing his body temperature to find equilibrium. Shouto reached under the couch to save Midoriya’s water bottle from being forever forgotten to the shadows—it it was Midoriya’s favorite one as it was covered in stickers from the whole class, and he would be sad in the morning if he couldn’t find it to bring to work. He set the bottle down and then pulled himself completely off the ground, pilling the blankets on the latter half of the couch, ready to greet their guest, who was currently shoving her finger in Midoriya’s chest, causing him to retreat back into their home. 

“Then when exactly were you going to tell me, Deku-kun. I had to find out via SLY. SLY! And then Momo said she had seen that you were trending the other day, but she had just chalked it up to the usual BS, but you’re telling me it's true.” 

Midoriya spared a glance to Shouto, mouthing, help me. Shouto was almost petty enough to ignore his pleas after the previous ordeal. But he thought it better to spare his idiotic best friend than leave him to Uraraka’s wrath. She might have been small, but she could just as well send them both to the stratosphere for the next couple of weeks. 

“What's true?” Shouto asked, earning Uraraka’s attention, which was not fun. She had no issue glaring at him either. Shouto was just safe enough at being out of reach. “That me and Midoriya are dating? I like him very much.”

Normally, Shouto’s honesty sometimes got him in trouble, but it was blunt enough to wither her glare. At him at least. She turned back to Midoriya. 

“See? How hard was that?”

“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, ‘Chako, we just hadn’t discussed coming out to anyone yet,” the latter half hissed and pointed, though Shouto purposefully ignored it. It served Midoriya right after his little stunt. “And you know how these things are, we didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” 

“But it is a big deal!” Uraraka said, “you’ve been—” She was muffled by two hands overtop her mouth, getting pushed back to the door. Shouto knew a silent conversation when he saw one, so he turned back to the TV, frowning when he saw the credits rolling. They missed the whole finale of the episode. He started to rewind it when Uraraka, free from Midoriya’s hold, said, “Don’t tell me this is all about the bet. I can’t believe that’s what it took for you to finally do something about this.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have bet so much money if you didn’t want to risk losing.”

“It’s not about the money,” Uraraka claimed before getting distracted. “Oh! Is that Prelude ? I had such a crush on Nana when I was kid. She’s so cool. Shouto-kun sit down, so we can cuddle. Your guy’s apartment is freezing.”

Shouto met Midoriya’s gaze over top of her. He shrugged. In terms of coming out to one of their friends, it could have gone worse. Shouto had been of the opinion that they wouldn’t lie to them, but this was easier. The fewer people who knew the truth the better. 

They spent the rest of their day with him and Uraraka smooshed together on the couch, and Midoriya isolated on the far end to make him “think about what he has done” as Uraraka put it. Shouto was thankful she was not upset. He didn’t expect her to be. She had been in her own respective relationship for years now, but if Shouto lost Midoriya, he didn’t think he’d so easily be able to smile around his next future lover. A fact, Shouto knew he would eventually have to get comfortable with. Perhaps, the ache of it wouldn’t hurt as much given the circumstances. Perhaps not. 

Uraraka left after dinner and the conclusion of the first season. Midoriya promised he would make the trip to the video store in the morning, so they could start the second season the next night as long as Shouto stopped after work to get more rice for dinner. It was an easy compromise. The only thing left to do for the night was finish getting ready for bed. However, while Shouto was brushing his teeth he puzzled over what Uraraka had said that he hadn’t taken time to wonder about then but now was simply curious. 

After spitting in the sink and rinsing his toothbrush off, he asked, “What was Uraraka talking about with bets? I thought you two agreed to stop that after the bar incident?”

Midoriya pulled the shower curtain back, pushing back his bangs so he didn’t get suds in his eyes as they dripped down his neck. “What bet?” 

“Uraraka asked if this was all about the bet earlier. You two should really stop that, you know, nothing good ever comes from it.” 

Midoriya’s mouth shrank as he thought. “It wasn’t dangerous.”

“So?”

Midoriya ducked back into the shower to properly rinse off his hair, and avoid Shouto’s question. He didn't properly shut the curtain, so water droplets fanned around the outside of the tub. Shouto dug an extra towel out of the linen closet, so Midoriya didn’t slip and dislocate his shoulder, again, when he stepped out.

Midoriya re-emerged. “On my birthday, Uraraka claimed with the way things were going, that I wouldn’t get a partner until I was thirty. I said I could do it within the year. Please, don’t be mad at me.” 

Shouto wasn’t sure why he would be mad. Compared to the chaos they could have gotten into, this was rather mundane and served Midoriya’s ultimate goal of finding true love, which he deserved. It might have technically been, you know, a lie, but it also didn’t hurt anyone, really. 

“How much money did you win?”

“What?”

“How much did she give you for winning?” 

“Oh, not much, like 5,000, I think, I didn’t count it, though knowing Ochako, maybe I should have. She can be stingy sometimes.”

“Great,” Shouto said, “We’re skipping rice tomorrow. I want soba at that nice place on the west side, and you owe me.”

Midoriya mouthed, you owe me, but then smiled around the steam billowing out from the running shower. “Okay, Shouto-kun, consider it a date.” 

Shouto tossed him the towel, ignoring how airy he felt, again, at the word date. He hoped it wasn’t an affliction. He hoped he could get over it soon, considering the more people knew the less likely they would be breaking up anytime soon. Midoriya had to make good on his bet, after all. 

“Don’t fall when you’re getting out of the shower. I don’t want to waste our hard-earned money on hospital bills.” He started to leave, “I’m heading to bed, see you in the morning.” 

“Sweet dreams, love,” Midoriya called after him.

Shouto most certainly, absolutely did not slam the door shut in his haste to cover up the wisp of fire that escaped his cheek. Judging from the laughter that followed him out of the room, his efforts were in vain. 

Midoriya was in a sullen mood. Sullen was probably not the right word for it. Anxious, rather. It made him quiet. If this hadn’t happened before, Shouto would have almost been scared that it was his fault. But no, Midoriya got stretched thin around Hero Galas and spent the whole week leading up to them a mess. All of his careful plans and regulations and restraint went straight out the window, and if Shouto wasn’t there to drag him out of the gym at the end of his shift, Midoriya was apt to spend the whole week there, perfecting his form, as if Midoriya didn't carry the whole wait of a building that one time.

Shouto got it. He couldn’t stomach most meats for weeks leading up to the event and could curse himself for his favorite meal being noodles and not something more ideally healthy like an apple. He should eat more apples.

Not to mention that kinder weather always meant more work, so if it wasn’t Midoriya rushing to disaster at 4 in the morning, it was Shouto walking through the dark at midnight, dreading having to go home and spend time unrolling his bed. He’d take the couch; however, Midoriya had a nasty habit of carrying Shouto to Midoriya’s own bed when he got up, and Shouto didn’t want to be an unnecessary bother on his friend, though waking up in Midoriya’s bed was one of his top five, or four, experiences in life. It was soft and large, and Midoriya had a weighted blanket that he only broke out on special occasions, and considering their past week, it was probably at the end of the bed, just waiting to be used. 

Nevertheless, they might have been in rough shape, and they hadn’t been publicly showcasing how amazing and impeccable they were as boyfriends. There had been no articles, yet, analyzing all the reasons they had broken up, but Shouto wasn’t confident that they wouldn’t be coming soon. For the most part, however, privately Midoriya was still leaving kind gestures around the house. The bentos Midoriya made always came with a note and after Midoriya was sent to the outskirts, outskirts of town, he brought Shouto home a slice of pie from the bakery Shouto adored but could never justify the trip.

Midoriya really was the perfect boyfriend. Shouto wished he could flawlessly do things for him the way the others did. Instead, he stared listlessly at his office computer at an article of Midoriya stopping a villain, who happened to tear his hero costume to shreds, feeling a bit of misplaced pride at the comments saying, Shouto-kun’s so blessed. The most blessed. 

However, their week was looking up. They just had to survive Saturday evening. At the Hero Commission Headquarters. For a charity event. With a preluding red carpet. Not to mention as the certified Number One Hero, Midoriya would have to give the opening speech, which set the mood for the whole event. Everything would be fine after that. 

To be certain, Midoriya was not bad at public speaking. He did more interviews than the whole class did, and he was a recurring speaker at UA whenever they needed an extra hand. He had spoken in front of audiences of thousands, if not more, and had a certain charisma about him that caused people, whatever they were doing, to stop, look up, and listen to him. 

Still, while they were getting ready, their home was filled with bits and pieces of his upcoming speech with various inflections at different points to test out what worked best. Whenever Midoriya talked, Shouto felt warm. There was such beauty in his voice that made Shouto want to stop whatever he was doing and just listen. When he was younger, he thought about really convincing Midoriya to join that podcast with Sero and Kaminari, just so Shouto could take him with him whenever he actually convinced himself to go on a run in the morning. If Shouto wasn't equally in a rush to get ready that night, he might have slid to the floor of his bedroom and rested his head against the door, taking in everything Midoriya had to say. 

“This tie looks stupid,” Midoriya complained, long after they were on the road—private vehicle, courtesy of the Hero Commission—he was tugging out the knot again and attempting to retie it, but he was clumsy with his movements. Shouto had to shoo his hands away to get him to stop.

“I don’t know why you even bother with ties,” Shouto said, winning at getting Midoriya to drop his hands. “You always end up redoing it fifty times, you might as well forgo them.”

“It’s quite literally a black tie event, Shouto-kun.”

Shouto was careful as he reoriented either side of the tie, saying, “Bakugou never wears his.” 

“That’s because he’s Kacchan . He only wears ties for actual important events and besides, I’m not that bold. I could never pull it off. I have ‘boyish’ charm,” Midoriya quoted. “I’m not sexy.” 

“I’m going to tell Bakugou you think he’s sexy.”

Midoriya flicked his upper arm, though Shouto considered it a win if only because it got him to smile and release some of the tension in his shoulders. Shouto was getting worried he had all of sudden gotten bad at this, calming down and reassuring him that was.  

Shouto studied the tie in his hands. He knew for a fact that Midoriya could wear nothing but a palm leaf, and he’d be the most gorgeous man on the face of the earth. But this wasn’t about Shouto being gay. This was about Midoriya’s self-confidence, and while for the most part, he could fake it, it still bothered Shouto that despite however number of magazines routinely declared him the most handsome, and sexy despite Midoriya’s petulance, hero, Midoriya didn’t see how beautiful he really was.

Shouto pulled the tie loose, ignoring how Midoriya looked at him when he did it. Inquisitive but also dedicated to ruining his lip with how much he was biting it. Shouto took a deep breath. If Midoriya hated it. He could just redo the tie and watch pitifully from the sidelines as Midoriya fixed it eighty more times that evening. He started with the top two buttons but then undid number three and four and then redid number four. Midoriya wasn’t a slut like Bakugou—a man who was in a healthy relationship for around a year but didn’t mind people ogling his chest or something; Shouto wasn’t keen to ask. 

Midoriya was warm when Shouto’s fingers accidentally caught the skin there. He tried not to quickly take his hands back, wondering if they were ice cold and burning. Midoriya didn’t say a word, though. As uncomfortable as Midoriya was, he was willing to be completely silent for Shouto to work his magic. Granted Shouto’s quirk only extended to ice and fire, and he wasn’t sure why he thought this was a good idea. But he pressed forward, pulling the dark fabric this way and that so that it fell over Midoriya's chest naturally. Not that it was a lot of hard work to make Midoriya look effortless.

Shouto was only distracted once, not catching himself before his pointer finger was pressed into Midoriya’s skin, “you have a freckle here.”

It didn’t take him long to catch the smattering of more, darkened with Midoriya’s blessed summer tan. 

“I have freckles everywhere, love.” 

Shouto didn’t immediately retreat at the nickname, pressing his lips together and leaving the freckles to glare up at him. Midoriya only bit the inside of his lip, containing what was really a winning smile—killer smile. It would kill him. One Todoroki Shouto. He was sure. Just not at this very moment when his hand was still placed on the other’s clavicle.

“I, unfortunately, cannot show you more in the back of the company car, and all.” 

“I hate you,” Shouto said, pulling away from Midoriya to properly sit in his seat, crossing his arms and looking out the window. They were close to the venue. A couple of blocks at least. 

“You love me.” If only Midoriya knew. “Now give me back my tie.” 

“No,” Shouto said, turning back to Midoriya and as carefully as he could, as to not reveal true meanings on the matter, said, “you look hot.”

Midoriya blinked and then developed such a flush, he was scrambling to roll down the window behind him.

“You’re being unfair, Shouto-kun.”

“You trust me, right?” Midoriya nodded, still insistent on ruining the inside of his mouth. “I wouldn’t let you step out of this car if you looked foolish.” Shouto said, “But if you want the tie, I’ll come over and fix it, only you better not unknot it in five minutes on the red carpet or so help me.” 

Midoriya studied him, looked down at his lap, then out Shouto’s window. This close to the Hero Commission there were fences, keeping fans to the sidewalk, all clamoring for a chance to see their favorite hero, for a chance to see Midoriya. 

“You think I look good?” 

Shouto took a deep breath. Brutal honesty always worked best with his friend. 

“Midoriya, you’re the hottest man I know.”

Luckily, the bite of it this time didn’t shock Midoriya as much. Shouto still thought it likely that Midoriya didn’t quite believe him, muttering, “It’s unfair how good you are at this,” while he turned away from him to sit properly in his seat, facing the driver.

“Do you want your tie?”

Midoriya spared him a glance, stretching his hands over his knees. “No.” Then, “if they make fun of me, it’s your room I’m crying in over a tub of ice cream.”

People would have to be absolutely insane to make fun of Midoriya dressed the way he was about to step out of this car. His suit was dark blue, deeper than Shouto’s hero costume, matching with the black shirt Shouto had unbuttoned, revealing now a column of golden tan neck. Not to mention, he had pushed some of his hair back, so that his eyes were even more of a draw. He was going to steal far more hearts than Shouto’s murmuring one. 

There were cheers when the car slowed to a stop. Shouto got out first, taking a moment to breathe and ready himself amongst the flashing lights and shouts. This part of the experience always disoriented him. It was too much all at once, and it made him want to turn around and get back in the car and go home and watch a movie, watch TV—they left All Might tied to a nuclear bomb last night. However, unlike most other times, when Midoriya stepped out with him, his hand was large and careful against Shouto’s back. Whatever nervous energy had permeated the car, their home was gone as well. Nothing but big smiles and waves from Japan’s Number One Hero as he led them both to the white tent ahead of them. It was a staging ground before the actual carpeted event. Both of their stylists pulled them apart to work on any last-minute finishing touches before they were sent to the real hounds of the night. A handful of meters ahead of a gold backdrop and then freedom in the form of bubbling champagne and other heroes.

Midoriya was staged first. Set to go out a minute or so before Shouto. Under his breath, he ran through his speech, again. 

“It sounds great,” Shouto reassured as Midoriya found another part of his outfit to pick apart and put back together. Snapping and unsnapping the cuffs of his blazer.

“Thanks, love,” he whispered, snapping the last button closed as the aides and workers around them urged Midoriya forward into the spotlight. The crowd clamored for him, as they always did, and Midoriya reciprocated as much as he could, putting most of his weight on his heels, his hands loose in his pockets, smiling at the various shouts and calls for attention.

Once again, Midoriya was good at this. It was hard to remember him as a nervous kid unable to answer a single question at the head of the class when he was like this. All charm. Not a single shred of palpable worry or doubt. And why would he? He had been their number one hero since graduation as soon as he signed his contract to go pro. The villains they fought were no match for him. The change he pushed in the profession was widely popular and accepted. He was not at a loss for people who adored him, yet Shouto worried still. 

Shouto worried about how despite Midoriya’s hands being in his pockets, he was probably picking at his cuticles. How in the weeks after this, Midoriya would pour or over every criticism, taking them all to heart. The world always wanted so much of Midoriya to applaud, to criticize, to want all as their own. To make sure he belonged to no one, not even himself, but belong to everyone regardless. No respite. 

They didn’t know that this week Midoriya skipped going to the hospital, not because he was petulant, “so him,” un-realizing of his own pain, but because Midoriya understood his own fallacy and failures. He thought the only way to maintain his luster was to ignore any damage outright, growing dimmer in a shadowed officer, working over his computer to coordinate a second strike that ultimately brought the villain down. They were not present when Midoriya’s stubbornness won out, and Shouto’s ceded, at only being able to pick glass out of Midoriya's shoulder over a paper bowl he had stolen from the break room because there was no rest for this position. They did not know that Shouto hated them some days. Hated them most days Midoriya’s head fell against his sternum, at the silence of the radio, and the quiet statement that they could finally go home. 

“Shouto-kun! Over here Shouto!”

Shouto remembered to smile, well close enough to a smile, with his own deluge. He perhaps didn’t care as much about the attention. He had been around cameras and pestering questions far longer than most here tonight. Not that he was meant to answer any questions. They could exist as an ignorable buzz as he worked his way further down the carpet.

Amongst it all, however, he caught Midoriya’s frown, his eyes darting to the crowd ahead of Shouto, before lingering on him. Shouto tilted his head, but Midoriya didn’t offer any silent answer. He went back to chewing on his lip. The inside of it, at least. But just before he completely turned away, Shouto caught the temperature of a burning forest.

Shouto would have done well to stay in his spot. However, Midoriya had grown stiff. His smile was less sure. They would read into it. They would question what made Midoriya change all of a sudden. A villain? A threat? Worry about what was to come next? Midoriya might claim that he didn’t care what they said or wrote, but he clearly did. Not just because he decided the best way to circumvent people talking about him not dating anyone was for him to date Shouto—and all the conversation that brought—but because Midoriya had always been self-conscious about that sort of thing. He’d rewatch old interviews of himself and nitpick all the things he said and should have said to be better. Whereas Midoriya analyzed other heroes because he was fascinated by them, he analyzed himself because—Shouto made up his mind.

It was hardly a thought at all, just an action to close the distance between them. Midoriya had only just passed the midpoint portion of his walk. There was confusion over Shouto rushing his. Midoriya saw him coming—the forest fire extinguishing due to confusion—but Shouto hardly cared about that. He didn’t think much when he placed his left hand on Midoriya's lower back, and his right hand on his arm. Shouto meant to lean over and tell Midoriya a joke, maybe just a light jest, to distract him properly, only in the process of doing so, Midoriya turned to face him, and Shouto’s mouth landed squarely on Midoriya’s cheek.

There was a flurry of movement the moment it happened as Shouto pulled back, ready to apologize, finding that he couldn’t go far because somehow in his trance to get this far, Midoriya had wrapped his own arm around his back, reaching up with his left hand to tuck Shouto’s hair behind his ear. He searched Shouto’s face, and Shouto searched him, though he was uncertain what the other was looking for, what he was silently asking permission for. The cameras continued to go, calling for either of them, calling for both of them. 

“Do you trust me,” Midoriya asked. His eyes were so dark. His expression shifted. Not apprehensive or unwell. Curious if not a bit brave. Shouto nodded. It was caught in Midoriya’s palm, pressing tightly against his cheek so that Shouto could feel the scars and the callouses that spoke to life outside this glamor. Midoriya had been his hero for so long, maybe it was foolish to think Shouto could provide him even a fraction of solace. 

Whatever the case, that wasn’t for them to decide now. 

Now, Midoriya was leaning up slightly. Magnetism, drawing Shouto closer yet. Midoriya’s lips were chapped and rough. They were perfect. Pressed reverently against his own. His eyes were closed. No crease or worry. A part of Shouto reasoned the longer Midoriya lingered, that it was merely for show. For the audience of onlookers that continued to snap and call beyond them. 

It was the most logical assumption. 

Another part of him chose to focus on how Midoriya’s hand was still on his cheek, his thumb, unable to help its caress of the skin there, blocking most of what was transpiring beyond it from being seen. That part of him wanted to believe the kiss had been just for him. Shouto’s.

Midoriya pulled away from him, smiling in the general direction of the first call of his name. Shouto knew that he should have been doing that too. He hoped, at least, he managed to catch a few cameras alright. But it was impossible. How was he supposed to look at anyone ever again after what Midoriya had done?

And Midoriya had accused him of being the one who was good at this. 

Absurd . 

They survived the rest of the red carpet side by side. Whatever hindrance Midoriya had thus far, was replaced with a gentle conversation between camera lights and calls. Shouto certainly felt more comfortable like this but that hadn’t been the point, only a positive consequence to what either of them would have had to do regardless, no longer alone. It was nice. It made the rest of the evening proceed better. When Midoriya spoke to the crowd, it was as if he was speaking to Shouto only, his resting attention to the middle of the room where Shouto was, never wavered. It made Shouto proud. Misplaced pride, perhaps, but proud nonetheless. 

Later, once they were tucked back on the couch, just to unwind before going their separate ways to bed, Midoriya muted the TV when it got to the gala portion of events. Shouto hadn’t been paying much attention, scrolling through his feed and liking his friend’s post, but the absence of sound caught his attention, drawing his eyes up just in time to catch a rather candid photo of their kiss, though not long enough to see the headline for the photo as it disappeared to other, more important, highlights of the night. 

Beside him, Midoriya asked, “did you hate it?”

He didn’t spare Shouto a glance when he asked it, choosing to study the TV he had just muted.

“I understand why you did it,” Shouto said. “We’re okay, you’re still my best friend.”

“You let me get away with too much,” Midoriya sighed. “I didn’t realize how shocked you were by it.”

Shouto was thankful the photo was gone. Right now all that was on the screen was the amount donated this year by the various heroes in attendance. Seeing a picture of himself all wide-eyed and open for the whole world to see was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his Saturday night. His early Sunday morning, maybe, but that was tomorrow’s Shouto to deal with. He couldn’t handle it right now. It was absolutely too much. 

However, Midoriya couldn’t know why exactly it flustered him so. Had Shouto been in a fake relationship with anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared much about how he looked being kissed. Unfortunately, he knew he was always his most honest self when it came to Midoriya. A couple of inquisitive questions here and there, and Shouto would be confessing to him how he had been dreaming about kissing him for eons. He would lose his fake boyfriend and best friend all in one go. 

So, lie. 

But he also couldn’t do that. 

So, the truth. 

But also not. 

“It’s just been a long time since I was kissed, that’s all. Not since Kirishima, I think.” 

Perfect. 

“Shouto-kun that was when we were third years and a dare.” 

Well, Shouto always figured he couldn’t be choosy when it came to that sort of thing, and he wasn’t all that interested in fooling around and kissing other people. He had been asked out here and there and had unfortunately caught quite a few more people in the janitor's closet, panting heavily while he was looking for the mop after another person’s lunch seemingly exploded. But Shouto had never once thought about taking his own trip to the closet with someone else in tow. 

Maybe. He had one or two thoughts about finding Midoriya alone in his office, the last ones on their floor, and pushing all his papers to the side, so he could sit at his desk and have Midoriya’s hands cup either of his cheeks, whisper love against his lips before capturing them—but that wasn’t all the time. It was rare. 

Shouto wasn’t a deviant.

He shrugged, “didn’t quite see much need for it until now.” 

“So you did hate it.”

“I didn’t say that.” 

Midoriya pursed his lips. He unmuted the TV as they started the sports segment. A local baseball team was going to Tokyo to represent Musutafu in some tournament of sorts. 

Shouto thought about calling it a night. He wasn’t sure how long it would take him to fully relax to sleep, but anything would be better than the accidental awkwardness that came to heavily sit above them in their darkened living room. The quiet was only broken by Midoriya clearing his throat. 

“Do you want to practice?” Midoriya asked. “With me, that is. Kissing. I can’t say I really have all that much experience either, and we might have to kiss again, just so everyone keeps buying that we’re really dating, that’s all—I think it’s only luck that Kacchan isn’t on to us already—but I wouldn’t mind kissing you again, Shouto-kun. You kiss people you care about, and I care about you most ardently, so it makes sense if you think about it like that.”

“Just two pals, sucking face,” Shouto couldn’t help but say. 

When did his life become so unserious? First Midoriya offered to be his make-believe boyfriend, and now he was proposing this? It was insane. Outrageous. None of this would end well. Midoriya was already groaning into his shoulder. Steaming. He was about two seconds from taking it all back, Shouto was certain. 

Shouto tentatively carded through Midoriya’s hair. It was a tad greasy and stiff from all the products he had in it earlier in the night. Shouto didn’t mind. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about this. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Midoriya said so himself. Friends kissed. And, while, yeah, sure ideally it would be a different scenario, Shouto wasn’t so strong as to deny his own baser feelings for the man next to him. 

So he heard himself say, “sure, why not. I do need practice.”

Midoriya leaned away from his shoulder. His eyes were glassy. He really was embarrassed then, thinking he had overstepped his boundaries. Shouto could alleviate that some. He took the opportunity to reach up and kiss the corner of Midoriya’s lip. A peck really before he was back in his seat. Midoriya didn’t react much, still spiraling, maybe. 

“Midoriya,” Shouto called, sitting on each syllable. “Teach me how to kiss, please.” 

Again, Midoriya didn’t immediately react. He bit his stupid lip again, aggravated now that Shouto knew the option of kissing him was out there. What more did Midoriya need to think about? He was the one who brought it up. Who kissed Shouto first!—if one didn’t count Shouto’s accidental cheek kiss just prior, which Shouto didn’t. It certainly hadn’t made him breathless like actually kissing Midoriya did. 

“Shouto-kun,” Midoriya, eventually did call back, “you should learn to tell me no, sometimes. You’re allowed to say no. You don’t always have to do what I tell you.” 

“I told you no this morning when you asked me if I wanted green onions in my soup.” 

Midoriya sighed, dropping his head. Shouto couldn’t be sure, but he might have cursed. Shouto blamed Bakugou for the habit. Then Midoriya rolled his head back, resting it against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it would tell him the secrets of the universe, that it was somehow not just simple plaster, cracked in too many spots.

“What the hell,” Midoriya said, pushing himself back up on the couch, so he was properly sitting, his attention falling back on Shouto, “why not? Come here.”

Shouto wasn’t given much of a choice, since Midoriya took the opportunity to grab him, pulling him up and onto his lap. While Shouto flushed, Midoriya’s seriousness was palpable. He didn’t remove his hands from Shouto’s waist, giving Shouto the time to reorient himself in his new position and what was about to happen—holy shit. 

“Before we start, I need you to know that you can stop whenever you want to. You can stop right now. It won’t hurt my feelings nor will it hurt our situation. Okay?”

Shouto nodded. Honestly, Midoriya could say whatever he wanted right now, and Shouto would still kiss him. He knew he had fire in his blood right now, ice in his veins to counter it, but he didn’t care. He did not.

“I need you to say it out loud, love, do you understand, yes or no?”

“I want you to kiss me, Midoriya.” 

It was neither of the options Midoriya provided, but it did have the desirable outcome Shouto wanted. Midoriya’s restraint snapped, and he surged forward. Shouto was only able to steady himself on catching the back of Midoriya’s neck in one hand and his cheek with the other. Midoriya’s mouth was hot. Shouto’s threaten to get hotter. He had to cool down, but his own unbalanced quirk did nothing to slow Midoriya down. Shouto would be a liar to think that he wanted him to. Lost, but also so incredibly present for every changed direction and heated press, to lose count of how many they were at or to decide how many would be considered good enough to end it. 

Shouto knew he was doomed. There would be no going back. No, trying to forget this with the taste of Midoriya right there, actually on his lips. But he could ignore waning worry too busy embracing exhilaration to wonder about what came next. He knew that he would never get enough, twisting his fingers and undoing all the carefully prepared gelled curls from hours prior, to reveal his Midoriya. His. 

It was quite easy to buy the lie then, even if the demonstration was only for them.

August heat came with a lull in crime as even the most ardent villains decided they would rather stay indoors than attempt to rob a bank. On the bright side, their AC magically started working again—Shouto wasn’t sure what he did, save for attempting to turn the thermostat up—Unfortunately, though, since Japan’s numbers were low, other countries were putting out mutual aid requests, and Midoriya wouldn’t be Midoriya if he ignored calls for help. 

The apartment was eerily quiet without him.

It wasn’t like they didn’t talk. Shouto had FaceTimed Midoriya in the morning when he realized they were out of creamer, taking a quick walk to the corner store. Midoriya, meanwhile, was miserable, staring at a greasy hamburger, seconds away from collapsing. Shouto wished he could have gone with him, but he knew they were tempting fate just by having the Number One Hero leave Japan. Any other members of the Top Ten leaving would just court disaster. So, instead, Shouto talked over the merits of which new candy-based creamer they should try while Midoriya tried to convince him he was more than okay with just milk—he didn’t get a vote; he wasn’t there. Shouto chose Twix because he was in a caramel mood, and he updated Midoriya on the rest of his previous afternoon and night and what he was planning on doing the rest of the day while slowly Midoriya nodded off to sleep. 

He hung up the phone, melancholy. 

Midoriya had been gone for six days. It wasn’t the longest stretch of time by any means, but it seemed more noticeable now. When he took lunch at work, there was no smiley face sticky note over his rice, and he had no last-minute visitors to crash his office with chatter. Fake dating Midoriya was always temporary, but this was the first time since it started that he felt a pain at the loss of the distance it would put back between them once they stopped. He liked how they were right now. 

Midoriya had been right about the creamer being too sweet, and Shouto resolved to put less of it in his coffee the next day, checking his emails on his phone as he rode the elevator to his floor. He didn’t glance up as people got on and off, going about their day until he was greeted. 

“Shouchan!” 

Kaminari Denki stood opposite of him, with his arms spread and a beaming smile. 

“Kaminari,” Shouto inclined his head in greeting, but it wasn’t enough for his friend, to close the distance between them and wrap him in a tight hug. 

“What have I told you about calling me that? It’s Denki! I haven’t seen you in forever. You look good.” 

Shouto glanced down at his outfit. He was just wearing a green cardigan today, someone had to take care of the mundane administrative tasks with Midoriya out, and now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure this was Midoriya’s sweater. It must have gotten mixed in with his laundry whenever they did it last. 

Point was, Shouto wasn’t really sure how good one looked on their way to the office at 8 after being up for at least three hours. 

“Thanks,” he said, “you too.” 

Kaminari punched his shoulder. “You’re such a flirt.”

Was he? He’d have to ask Midoriya.

“When did you get back?” Shouto asked, instead of pressing the issue further, “I thought you were in Okinawa until October.” 

Kaminari shrugged. “The mission ended early. I’m on my way to see Momo to see if she has any jobs for me to pick up; otherwise, I’ll be slumming it on the streets. What about you? Anything new in your life?”

“Not particularly,” Shouto said. It wasn’t like Kaminari had been gone that long, just since May. “I bought a new plant, and nearly killed it. It’s Midoriya’s plant now.” 

Kaminari laughed as the elevator door opened. “You’re a hoot, Shouchan.” He started out the door. “We should catch up! I’m free for dinner whenever. Just let me know!” 

Shouto nodded as the doors slipped shut, and Kaminari saluted, disappearing behind them. 

Now, once again, Shouto had been home alone before. He spent much of his formative years all alone with nothing but the koi fish to keep him company—that might have been the issue. They didn’t have a pet to keep him company while he wasted away all alone in their apartment. He couldn’t even watch TV as the only show that had held his attention, he was watching with Midoriya. While his friend might forgive him for getting further ahead, he knew Midoriya really wanted to enjoy the shared experience with one another. Shouto did too. 

Shouto went to the gym on Wednesday to spar with Bakugou, only to find out Bakugou and Uraraka were sent on an emergency rescue mission up north. Momo was taking the end of the week off to see her parents. Iida was working patrol along with Shinsou and Ashido. Shouto was bored. What the hell did he do with his life before Midoriya Izuku entered it? He knew the answer to that: sulk and do nothing, save contemplate all the ways he could ruin his father by only using half his potential. While things might have been mended, it would be a cold day in hell before he willingly went over to his father’s house for some good ole’ father-son bonding.

So when Friday came about, and Shouto was still dreadfully bored, and the idea of going to work and coming home to do nothing saddened him, he texted Kaminari to hold him up to his offer to get dinner. Kaminari answered enthusiastically and sent him a location to a restaurant Shouto hadn’t been to before, but the menu looked promising. Shouto was more than happy to share with Midoriya his adventures when he called later tonight just before bed. 

Kaminari picked him up in his car—Shouto didn’t even know he could drive—and they made their way to the restaurant, which was thankfully not that crowded for the time and day. They were seated, and Shouto feared he missed a lot of Kaminari’s initial conversation, but he swore to himself he would be better, right about when Kaminari said, 

“Dude, I thought you told me nothing new happened with you, but I had to find out from Kyouka that you and Deku are dating. Congratulations. She made fun of me all afternoon. Not cool, man.” 

Shouto wasn’t sure if he was supposed to confirm or apologize to Kaminari. He didn’t seem all that upset by it either way.

“Oh yeah,” Shouto said, “it’s not that big of a deal. It’s only been a few weeks.”

“More like a few years,” Kaminari said, reaching for an onion ring on a plate in the middle of the table. “I think the whole class, save like Deku, remembers your late night drunk rants about his face. Do you still have your notebooks? I bet you could pull together some sick vows with that shit, or emo music.” He pondered it for a moment. “You’d have to ask Fumikage for advice. He’s good with that.”

Only the recent development of dating Midoriya prevented him from developing a fierce blush at being reminded of all of that. Luckily, Shouto had a good handle on his quirks and nipped that right in the bud. If only, poor, 17-year-old Shouto could see him now. 

On second thought, the truth of this would just as well depress him. 

Poor child him. 

“Well, we are dating,” Shouto said, “now.” 

He couldn’t help how robotic he sounded, saying it. He didn't get much practice at it. People sort of just knew, and he hadn’t had to reassure anyone yet that it was the truth with all of Midoriya's "just in case someone asks" tasks, which simply resulted in them spending even more time together. Case in point, Kaminari didn’t seem to doubt him at all. 

“Midoriya was the one who confessed, wasn’t he,” Kaminari asked but it was more a of statement. He wasn’t exactly wrong, so Shouto nodded. “Yeah, no offense, Shouchan, but you were ready to take that shit to the grave, even though Midoriya basically worships you. I’m happy you guys have finally worked it all out, though.” 

Shouto wasn’t really sure what Kaminari meant by worship. Midoriya wasn’t overly religious. Besides, wouldn’t worshiping him be sacrilegious? Shouto wasn’t a deity. If Midoriya did worship anyone, it would be All Might. Despite knowing the man, and him visiting every so often, they did more or less have a shrine dedicated to him in the corner of the living room by the balcony. To Shouto’s knowledge, Midoriya didn’t have a him shrine.

He wasn’t sure what he would ever do if he ever found one. 

Probably start on fire. 

Stupid volatile quirk. 

Only, Shouto was getting ahead of himself, Kaminari was only saying that because he assumed they were dating actually. One year, Sero and Ashido hooked up and everyone said how they all knew, and there was a lot of “it was love at first sight” comments along with other gross, gushy crap. Shouto had been confused because it seemingly came out of nowhere—and ended just as fast—but Midoriya had explained to him later on that it was the kind thing to do in support of your friends. Even if you didn’t think it was the best idea as long as it didn’t hurt anyone it was important to still be happy for them. Besides, the only people who truly knew how deep a relationship went were the people in it.

Shouto could certainly attest to that. 

Though, he thought it would be more fun if Midoriya was here with him now, with maybe a few more of their friends, trading secret looks as everyone told them how great they were as a couple. They could collapse into each other on the trip home, giggling the whole way and maybe sharing a few quick friend kisses. Everyone else none the wiser to the truth of the matter.

“He makes me happy,” Shouto said. 

Dating Midoriya certainly came with the perks of not having to make up a lot of lies about their situation. Kaminari was satisfied to leave it at that, moving on to what he got into in Okinawa. It sounded like a lot of sludge and muck. But he spoke with a grin the whole time. So while it might have been gross, Kaminari had fun, which was good. His eccentric storytelling was a good change of pace to Shouto’s renewed quiet peace. He was sad when the check came and the tables around them began clearing out. Shouto was ready to cover his half, but Kaminari insisted on paying in full, saying that it was the least he could do since Shouto agreed to come out.

They parted at the restaurant doors since Kaminari lived in the opposite direction of Shouto’s own home, and Shouto always did enjoy the quiet hours of the train, though Kaminari was quick to sneak in another hug before he left, making sure to wave with his whole arm at the street corner before Shouto turned the block. 

Shouto meandered down the street. It wasn’t as hot out with the sun, sinking past the buildings. The train ride was dutifully empty, so he didn’t feel too awkward, slipping his headphones in and calling Midoriya. His screen momentarily filled with a picture he had caught of Midoriya when Uraraka and Tsuyu were over and doing face masks with them. A puppy headband, pushed his hair out of his face while he stuck his tongue out at Shouto. 

The picture dissolved, so Shouto was face to face with the real-life Midoriya. Shouto couldn’t quite decide what was better, granted he was rather fond of half-his-face-smooshed-into-a-pillow-Midoriya, yawning around a groggy, “Hello, love.”

Shouto went to bed that night with Midoriya telling him about his previous night and the upcoming day. He fell asleep with a smile. 

He woke up with a headache, not late, but he didn’t have time to sit and contemplate life in the living room before he was forced out the door—or talk to Midoriya. Though, based on a text, it sounded as Midoriya was too busy to chat anyways. With a promised, I’ll be back Monday. Pick me up, please!! Shouto’s response resulted in, thanks, love, and Shouto tried really hard to bite his smile right then and there. There was no use walking into the agency to get assaulted by coworkers, wanting to know what was up with his mood when all he wanted to do was curl under the covers in the dark and hopefully fall back to sleep. 

Unfortunately, for Shouto, the ibuprofen kicked in right around when he was entering the front lobby, and he was too much of a workaholic to go home for the day. Plus, he had patrol in the latter half of his shift, so it meant he would get to be out and about, enjoying the sun and relative peace. 

He was only just setting his thermos down at his desk, getting ready to take his laptop out of his bag, when Kaminari slammed into the door, falling further into the room, with an albeit less frantic but worried Ashido, following him in. Shouto’s pager wasn’t going off, so he assumed it wasn’t work-related. He greeted both of his friends, pulling up a seat. 

“He doesn’t know,” Kaminari hissed. 

“That’s why I said we had to come here first,” Ashido responded. 

Meanwhile, Shouto logged into his office computer to pull up the report he was working on yesterday while setting up the video conference he had at 10 on his laptop. He knew from enough experience it was useless to try and ask for clarifications so early in conversation he was only a tangentially part of. Kaminari and Ashido continued to bicker back and forth, and Shouto wondered whose turn it was to bring muffins to the office. He hoped it was Momo. She always spent too much, and he could probably get away with taking two since Midoriya wasn’t there and Momo hated waste. 

“Shouto-kun,” Ashido said, earning him back his attention, “did you watch the news this morning or even go online at all?”

Shouto had gotten up, pouted at his phone and Midoriya’s apology message, recovered, and then got ready for the day. He did open Instagram just so he could like the daily post of a cat one of the local rescues always posted but that was while waiting at a light to change, and while he sometimes went on his phone on the train, he didn't want to unnecessarily strain his eyes. Besides, Midoriya was generally the one who stayed on top of gossip. It was Shouto’s duty to gasp and fawn over it when Midoriya was especially scandalized over a news story. If something really bad happened or was even moderately interesting, Midoriya would have told him.

He shook his head. 

Kaminari wheezed. Ashido reminded him of his breathing exercises. Shouto wondered if it would be a good idea to give them space. They were in his office and all, but he was sure he could go take a reasonable trip to the water cooler or to muffins. He hoped Momo got chocolate chip. 

“Deku’s going to kill me.”

“Deku’s not going to—

Kaminari grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “He’s going to murder me. I’m going to get my head crushed between his muscular thighs and explode.” He dropped Ashido, putting a hand under his chin. “Though, in terms of going out that’s probably in most people’s top twenty. I take back what I said, Mina, I am okay waiting for Deku to get home and kill me for attempting to steal his man.” 

Ashido hit the back of his head. “You’re insufferable.” 

“You attempted to kidnap someone?” Shouto said, tilting his head. “I think you’ll have a bigger issue with local authorities or Iida. He tries very hard to keep us respectable, you know.”

Both of them snapped their heads in his direction.

“Mina, Shouchan is making fun of me. He doesn’t care at all that I’m going to die.” 

Shouto didn’t betray that truth with a smile as Ashido pushed Kaminari off of her, with a pointed, “maybe you deserve it,” before walking toward Shouto’s desk. She pulled out her phone before handing it to him. Shouto didn’t hide his disgust at seeing the SLY’s website. All garish fonts, bright colors, and rolling ads. Nauseating for sure. It took him a moment to find and read what it was the two people in his office were so concerned about him seeing and reacting to.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, “I could never love Kaminari.”

Behind her, Kaminari cried out, talking about how he wounded him and dramatically falling to the floor in torment as Shouto skimmed the rest of the first few paragraphs of the article. Shouto takes a new lover while boyfriend is away? Accompanied by a photo of him and Kaminari out to eat, and Kaminari and him hugging when they parted. Otherwise, everything else in the article was baseless—he had been morosely awaiting Kaminari’s return from Okinawa, and Midoriya was only meant to be a distraction…They did see his face in the picture, right? That wasn’t his smiling resting face, it was his engaged resting face. Meanwhile, Shouto had to delete too many photos of Midoriya and him because it's so obvious to him that he looked at his friend that way friends weren’t really supposed to. He liked Kaminari, as an actual friend, sure, but it was ridiculous to imply anything else. 

“So, you’re not mad,” Ashido said, pocketing her phone. 

Shouto shrugged. “They’re wrong, and Midoriya will know that if he sees it, or already knows that if he caught it. Nothing I can do about it.” 

Though, it did bring up the question about the strength of their lie going forward. The whole foundation of Midoriya wanting to date him was so people stopped posting about potential lovers for either of them to be taken with. If it evidently didn’t work when Midoriya was out of town, it was feasible that other cracks would start forming as well. He would have to convince Midoriya that they could fix it and be even more obnoxious in public with their affections. Maybe, Shouto should consider uploading various pictures of Midoriya on social media with cheesy quotes attached. It worked when Momo scored her girlfriend. He didn’t see how it would fail in keeping his. He needed to make note of it, unfortunately, when he started for a sticky note, Ashido was blinking owlishly at him. 

Realizing she had his attention again, she asked, “you still call him Midoriya?”

“It’s his name?” 

“Yeah, but,” Ashido leaned forward on the desk, balancing it a little. “Shouldn’t you guys be past all that by now. Couples are supposed to have cutesy nicknames. At the very least you could call him Izuku. I mean most of us call him Deku, but I remember your rant at the Christmas party when we were 19, you don’t have to remind me about it sober. However, only you,” she poked his chest, “have been dedicated to formalities since we graduated.” She paused. “Well, you and Iida, but he called Kirishima, ‘Eijirou,’ the other day in front of god and everyone, so I think you have no excuse not to try. Especially, since the whole world knows you by Shouto, Shouto-kun.”

Ah, yes, Shouto’s Midoriya problem. 

Shouto wasn’t opposed to calling Midoriya by Izuku. However, he didn’t trust himself not to get too attached to it and believe there were emotions there that did not exist. Besides, considering how the public knew him as Deku since his inception at UA, Midoriya could be special too. Lastly, Shouto liked the shape of it on his tongue. It was hard not to get addicted to rolling it over and over at night when he couldn’t sleep, changing the inflection this way and that to see what he liked better. If he did that with Izuku, he wouldn’t be able to help himself, accidentally calling Izuku, Izuku, with no formalities or even having the gall to ask in the first place. Therefore, Midoriya was fine. It was truly perfect.

Ashido didn’t look as though she was going to accept that truth, however, which meant Shouto was going to have to consent to something, unfortunately. 

“Midoriya calls me love.”

“He calls you—” Ashido's eyes got wide.  before she started screeching, the rest of her sentence becoming indistinguishable. Shouto winced, and she started jumping up and down. Even Kaminari seemed more chipper from his place on the ground. “That’s too cute! When did he start saying it? How often does he say it? Does he say out and about, or only when you guys are at home? I can’t believe this! How many other people know?”

“A few weeks ago, often, yes, mostly, no,” Shouto replied, thinking he got all of her questions with that. Ashido didn’t apparently seem to care, squealing some more and whipping her phone out. 

“This is going in the group chat. This is amazing.” She paused. “You don’t mind if we tell others?”

That Shouto’s fake boyfriend called him love, now why would he have a problem with that? 

But alas, Shouto hated making his friends sad even if their current joy was at his behest. He knew he was going to be hearing shit about it in the upcoming days, but honestly, he didn’t really care. Even if the whole thing was artificial, Midoriya calling him love made him feel, well, loved—ironic how that turned out. He just hoped whenever Midoriya got around to checking the group chats, he assumed everyone embellished it on their behalf. 

“I don’t mind,” he said, causing Ashido to hop back and forth between her legs like an excitable kid being told they could have both toys. She lifted Kaminari up and spun him around. The pair of them practically danced their way out of the office. Shouto made sure to silence his phone and throw it in a drawer before he started the rest of his work day. Firstly, starting with an email to his PR Team, asking them to please put out a memo that he was happily taken, and in no need of spoiling his relationship with Midoriya. They agreed. 

Shouto put the whole Kaminari debacle behind him for the rest of the day. Excited to be able to catch Midoriya earlier than usual because he was packing his bag and would be spending most of his day flying between airports and then eventually coming home. His sleep schedule was going to be absolutely destroyed, but then again, Midoriya was known for freaky bouts of insomnia. Even when they were younger, and they would have sleepovers, Shouto could wake up from a nightmare to the soft blue glow from Midoriya’s phone permeating the space and fall asleep again with his head in Midoriya’s lap, who would gently untangle the knots in his hair, before Midoriya even thought about putting the phone down and going to bed. He was a tad insane for it, but people also called Shouto insane for being able to fall asleep anywhere. 

Come Monday, Shouto was up and out the door before sunrise fully hit to avoid traffic coming and going from the international airport. He grabbed a coffee, opened a manga Sero had lent him a few weeks back that he kept forgetting to read, and made himself comfortable, awaiting Midoriya’s arrival, which checking by the list of flights, must have been delayed as he had an hour or two before Midoriya was even set to land and then another hour after that once he got off the plane, found his bag, and made his way through the airport, etc. 

Sero’s recommendation was good, and Shouto found himself reading the other volumes on his phone, after sending his friend a quick text, thanking him for letting him borrow it and asking him if he had more since Shouto preferred to read physical copies. Sero said he did, and they made plans for Shouto to stop over at his apartment after Midoriya was settled and fast asleep in his bed.

As such, when his phone started ringing, he was ready to answer it. Greeted with Midoriya’s bright voice. 

“Where are you? Wait never mind, I think I see you. I swear sometimes you dress like you want me to miss you.” 

“By wearing a hat? You better not be wearing one then.”

“Shut up,” Midoriya said, hopping down the last few steps on the escalator. Indeed he had a periwinkle baseball hat on, though it did absolutely nothing to tame his hair. Further, after hanging up, he was pulling off his face mask to grin, all toothy, in Shouto’s direction, gaining more than a few curious onlooker’s attention, that and the fact that Midoriya had his luggage hanging over his shoulder, causing his arm to bulge where it was bent, stretching the old t-shirt further than it ought to be.

Shouto picked himself out of the chair. The place was starting to get busier and while Shouto wasn’t opposed to hosting an impromptu meet-and-greet, he knew Midoriya really needed to get to bed. He never slept a wink on planes. He was too tense, awaiting disaster, and his flight had been eleven hours, not to mention the many hours he spent in and out of airports. Yet, despite Shouto’s worries. Midoriya certainly had a pep in his step as he divided the sea of people on his walk toward him. 

“How was your flight,” Shouto started, only to be interrupted by Midoriya dropping his suitcase to grip either side of Shouto’s face and pull him into a bruising kiss of which Shouto was not too proud made his knees weak and buckle. It was okay. Midoriya abandoned his left cheek to support his back as he practically bowed into Shouto, refusing to let him go, no matter how off-centered Shouto truly was. 

Distantly, Shouto could make out that the once passive onlookers were now equally engaged. A few shutters and mistaken lights fill his periphery. Not that Shouto could focus on them and what they meant. His eyes were closed. When did he shut them? And Midoriya was still kissing him. Tame, considering. But a kiss was a kiss, and Shouto was a helpless, gay man. 

Midoriya only spared him a few centimeters to pull away and say, “I’ve missed you, love.” 

Shouto could get used to missing this too if Midoriya thought coming back every time warranted such an exchange. He was only partially able not to fall completely over as Midoriya straightened them somewhat, not relinquishing his hold on Shouto’s back, but taking the opportunity to pull off Shouto’s beanie. Shouto’s hair was still damp from the morning—and while he could, he never did find the merits in drying his hair faster than what normal air could accomplish—but Midoriya merely smiled at the frizzy mess before cocking his head. 

“Is that my shampoo?”

“I forgot I was out,” Shouto mumbled. 

Ever since Midoriya upgraded to his extra-fancy-for-my-hair-type shampoo, he was weirdly protective of it and one time cried when he spilled it. Shouto probably shouldn’t have used it without asking, even if it was only a pea-sized amount. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Midoriya shrugged, finally relinquishing his hold on Shouto, not at all sparing any glances to the people who were whispering—well, frankly, speaking at a normal, easy-to-hear level—around them. Instead, Midoriya picked up his bag, threw it back over his shoulder, and then decided that he was not done with this charade, settling his arm around Shouto and leading them to the underground parking garage. The crowd parted for the pair just as easily as they had when it was just Midoriya walking through. 

Midoriya didn’t attempt to separate from him until they reached the elevators and even then it was just so he could press the button to call one to them. Shouto tried his best not to dwell on the fact that he could still feel the imprint of Midoriya on his body. It wasn’t looking well for him, but, luckily, the elevator arrived, and Shouto could focus on entering and making sure they went to the right spot as the doors closed. Midoriya didn’t put his arm around him again, which Shouto was both grateful for and upset by. He really needed to have a strong self-reflection on his disposition because this was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. 

And maybe he would have right then and there as the floors descended and no one got on, but then Midoriya was touching his face again, holding his chin with his thumb and forefinger and saying without warning, “You’re cute when you pout,” which made resolutely no sense because they were alone in a metal carriage, there was no one around for Midoriya to posture to unless he was practicing? like when they kissed in the apartment, practicing in order to be better boyfriends?

Midoriya said, “I missed you a lot, love.” 

Shouto nodded, barely heard himself say, “I missed you, too,” because he was so distracted by how bright Midoriya’s eyes got when he said it. The sparks of gold in them seemingly ignited in elation as if Shouto had said something he couldn’t quite believe, which was silly. Shouto missed Midoriya every time he left, though this one might have been more arduous, considering their situation, leaving him aching, disappointed with each trip down the hall because the room at the end of it would be stale and cold. 

Shouto might have been more prepared at the idea of Midoriya, dropping his thumb from his lower lip, to bring theirs together again, but he was no less floored by the notion. Midoriya’s kiss was softer than the previous ones. A welcome home. Chaste, yes, but Shouto could have just as easily fallen over. 

Midoriya needed to be careful. If he kissed the wrong person, they might assume they had something of him that they did not. They might grow a complex out of it and hoard him from all who wished to see. Midoriya might have been lucky, then, that it was Shouto he kissed. Shouto who knew, and, therefore, wouldn’t take anymore that was allowed of him. Midoriya was always meant to be loved by all, Shouto’s one teardrop in a lake, barely disturbed the peace. 

“What was that for?”

He should have followed the question with distance. Midoriya was still much too close. There was no hand at his back. It would be easy to do so. He didn’t. 

“Am I not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?” 

Shouto wondered if it was more teasing that Midoriya dropped his gaze from his eyes to his lips once more, biting his own lip in return. There was no way this man didn’t know what he was doing. If he wasn’t a successful hero, Shouto would tell him to go become a movie star. It would be a lot better for Shouto’s sanity if there was actual distinct space in seeing Midoriya like this, kept only to a screen, for Shouto to replay, but not get confused by. Not wonder if?

“Fake boyfriend,” Shouto said, patting Midoriya on the shoulder. 

It being the wrong or right answer didn’t shield Shouto completely from when Midoriya’s expression faltered just a bit. It wasn’t as if he forgot—Midoriya wasn’t sloppy like that—but maybe it reminded him of what Shouto already feared to be true; they would be ending this soon. Shouto had proven that it was not a foolproof plan. The websites and news channels wanted clicks and views. Messy celebrity dating profiles gave that to them. 

Only, “you’re right, you are looking a little corporal.” Midoriya poked his cheek. “I can practically see right through you, love. Obviously, there’s only one thing that can be done for it. How many kisses do you think it’ll take for you to become real?”

“How many, what?”

But Midoriya was already pecking him on the cheek over and over again, with a larger grin each time he pulled back, presumably because he could feel the temperature on Shouto’s cheek fluctuate widely back and forth. He was teasing him. It was barely contained in Midoriya’s giggles and snorts as Shouto tried to feebly push him away all the while Midoriya said, “I think it’s working, love, you’re gaining form!”

“I think you’re delirious,” Shouto said, successfully holding Midoriya back by the shoulder, though Shouto knew if Midoriya was really intent on it, he’d break it and restart his attack. However, Midoriya was satisfied with what he had already accomplished. Flushed with his hair disarrayed while he continued to smile. The bastard. 

“Oh, don’t pout, Shouto-kun, I already said how irresistible that is to me,” Midoriya said, as the elevator door behind Shouto opened. “And you said it yourself, you missed me.” 

“I take it back, you’re a menace. I’m moving out. Enjoy your plants.” 

“Nonsense,” Midoriya said, grabbing his bag, which had somehow fallen to the floor. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I wasn’t around.”

A true statement if only Shouto wished that it was less true. There was no reason, really, that Midoriya couldn’t exist in the same sphere that the rest of his friends and colleagues did. But Shouto was drawn to him, had been for years, potentially since their first fight, and he had no wish or desire to try and change that now. So, Midoriya was right, Shouto wouldn’t be going anywhere. He’d forever strive to be right at his side, no matter how annoying, or persistent, Midoriya was. He was his greatest friend. Nothing would change that. 

“Fine, you’re forgiven, honey, ” Shouto frowned, “pudding? bun?”

Shouto could not get how Midoriya could just switch to love like it was nothing. Everything he tried was simply awkward and garish in his mouth.

“Don’t strain yourself now.” Midoriya chuckled, stepping out of the elevator beside him. 

Ultimately, it was Midoriya’s fault. His name was perfect. It shouldn’t be replaced. But Shouto needed a small victory amidst all Midoriya’s large ones. 

Shouto furrowed his brows and pursed his lips before settling on, “sweet pea.” 

“Good try,” Midoriya said. 

“What’s wrong with sweet pea?” 

“My hair is green. Peas are green. It’s not exactly very original, Shouto-kun,” he started walking as if he knew where Shouto parked—he probably did. Shouto tended to park in the same place, just so he didn’t lose the company car surrounded by hundreds. Midoriya continued, “besides, names are important. Even nicknames. Especially nicknames.” Midoriya dropped his voice with the last one and was seemingly lost, somewhere in his head. A rare place for Midoriya to be lost in, at least, not with it also populating around them with his musings. “There should be meaning behind what you call someone, even if it develops outside of your original intentions.”

“But you call me love.” 

Midoriya found him again. Sober and careful. 

“I do.” 

Midoriya offered no more than that. Shouto didn’t think he’d get anywhere if he asked.

When Shouto first started to think about asking others to call him Shouto instead of Todoroki, Midoriya had been the first one in the room to say it and reaffirm his decision. The others in the class were quick to follow. It wasn’t as if it was an unusual task. People were already comfortable with calling Tsuyu by her name, and there were practically 100s of informal nicknames to keep track of. Shouto couldn’t really say he was ever overly attached to any play on his last name. The use of which all but dwindled out when he was in his third year. Even his teachers called him Shouto, and for that he was grateful. He knew that it didn’t conceal who he was by nature—the public had known about him long before he was made to be aware of them—nor was Shouto searching for a way to try and conceal his true identity or outcome of his past. Just, his father had always been Todoroki Enji: flame hero, Endeavor, and Shouto, just wanted to be Shouto, a friend when people needed the reassurance of one. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the public were all that hard to convince. In his official capacity, he was Hero Shouto, so that probably aided in it falling into the public consciousness. Shouto was Shouto, and he was grateful for that.

He did not think further about what Midoriya chose to call him and why that may be. 

Long after Midoriya collapsed in their apartment, Shouto had spent his afternoon with Sero, and it was almost too late to order anything reasonable for dinner, he and Midoriya were sat at their much-neglected kitchen table between stacks of paper—mail, mostly—and other odds and ends, each with a container of rice and chicken. The kitchen light was on, spilling into the main room, but neither of them had rushed to start turning on actual lights when it started getting dark out. Midoriya was still exhausted, resting his head on his wrist while he ate, looking seconds away from just falling asleep right there. While Shouto’s week had been listless and quiet, Midoriya’s had been busy at all hours of the day, on top of two international flights. Shouto was grateful that he had the next day off as well, so he could recover. 

Shouto wasn’t exactly bright-eyed either, though, having been up so early to retrieve Midoriya. He only had enough concentration to scroll through missed messages, remembering to thank Sero, again, for letting him borrow the rest of the series, when the group chat started a flurry of activity. He missed the original screenshot because it was gone so fast as people started reacting to it with unintelligible letters or various emoji’s Shouto only half understood the meaning of. 

“What’s wrong?”

Shouto relaxed his face, not realizing Midoriya had been watching him, as he started to scroll back to the top of the group chat to figure out what Ashido had sent to warrant such an explanation. He couldn’t help but sigh when he saw it. He honestly was surprised by how long it took anyone to talk about it thus far. 

It was a clear picture of Midoriya, dipping him, mid-kiss, at the airport. Midoriya’s eyes were closed, and it was easy to see the smile on his face as he kissed Shouto, more surprising to see Shouto's own smile to greet Midoriya's. Shouto, supposed, he had missed Midoriya no matter how surprised by the very public and spectacle of a kiss Midoriya had to decided to embrace him with. The headline only offered to quell “heated rumors” about the state of their relationship. 

Shouto caught a couple more comments from their friends before turning his phone to face Midoriya, so he could see it for himself since his phone must have still been left in his room from when Shouto urged him out of bed to eat something. 

“We made the news, again.” 

“Oh,” Midoriya said while he squinted to read the headline. He then met Shouto’s eyes over his phone, pointing his chopsticks toward Shouto, “are you going to finish your rice?”

Shouto gave him his container and took his phone back. In terms of a reaction, a non-reaction worked just as well.

“Jirou, Ashido, and Bakugou are both asking Kaminari if he’s left the city yet. They think, for some reason, you’re going to kill him.”

Midoriya had managed to get rice on his cheek, chewing around a mouthful of food as he said, “they’re being dramatic.” He paused. “Though, since Kacchan is out of town this week, Denki-kun did agree to train with me on Wednesday.”

“You’re going to hold back, though, right? You and Bakugou always take training to the extreme.” 

Midoriya didn’t respond, save for a short hum, which could have just as well been gratification for Shouto also giving him his leftover chicken. 

“Midoriya?” Shouto asked again. 

“Relax, love,” Midoriya said, “I’m not going to kill him. We’re just going to have a nice chat to catch up and then we’re going to spar. The results of which will only come about on the merit of who is the better man. You should stop by at the end of your shift. I’ll walk you home.” 

Midoriya, sweaty and out of breath after training, was bad for Shouto’s health. But Shouto also had an affinity for repeatedly doing things that were going to age him prematurely, so alas, he would be going—if only to also offer Kaminari some ice for any bruises that may accidentally come from his sparring session.

“Okay.” 

It was about then that Uraraka sent a message almost as confusing as thinking the Number One Hero would commit homicide over a friend taking Shouto out to eat. Shouto didn't think to measure his face and soon enough Midoriya was asking what else their friends were saying about them. 

“Uraraka says you were staking your claim.” He left out the on me part, but it was implied nevertheless. He was lucky it was dark in the room. He could feel his ears warming as a series of affirmatives came in from their other friends. 

Across from him, Midoriya didn’t even ponder or try to walk it back. He simply shrugged, went back to his food, and said, “She’s not wrong.”

Chapter Text

Midoriya’s shampoo smelled good. Shouto was pretty sure that’s what accounted for roughly 50% of the cost. Perfect parts sweet and buttery. His damp hair was soft in between Shouto’s fingers as he gently brushed and dried it, being mindful of how he laid the curls—a secret tip from Ashido when they were younger. Ahead of him, Midoriya sat crisscrossed, eyes glued on the tv as the final episode to season five was coming close. Throughout the whole episode, Midoriya had been malleable to Shouto moving his head this way and that, but he was no longer easily relaxed Midoriya, but fully engaged, every so often adding his own thoughts and commentary to what was playing out on the screen ahead of him. 

Shouto understood. Once or twice, he had forgotten that he was helping to dry Midoriya’s hair, especially when it got to the point where it seemed like All Might was truly outmatched this time—saved by an invention made by David Shield—and then the twist(ish) ending, as Midoriya said, where the villain of the last two seasons was actually nothing more than a puppet, controlled by All Might’s real nemesis back home in Japan. Aka the one who killed Nana while All Might was away, and who he was arguably running away from in America. For licensing reasons, the show wasn’t a direct one-to-one of All Might’s actual earliest years, which generally didn’t phase Midoriya too much—apparently, he was used to unfaithful storylines featuring his favorite hero—but that didn’t stop him from offering helpful tidbits here and there about what was happening on the scene. 

Currently, All Might and David were having a conversation about what they needed to do next. The answer would be to send All Might back to Japan, but they hadn’t gotten there yet. 

“You know it's a lot harder to root for them, when you know that their relationship was never more than a friends with benefits sort of thing in real life,” Midoriya said, mostly absentmindedly as he checked the time on his phone. It was late. Too late, considering they had to be at work two hours earlier the next day for a mission, and both of them should be in bed. 

“That doesn’t seem like a fact most people know about their old high school teacher. You’re lucky Uraraka isn’t here to bet that you ask him that the next time you see him.” Shouto paused. “Unless you already have asked him.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Midoriya defended, shortly followed by, “only so far as asking him about why he stayed single throughout his hero tenure. Not about,” Midoriya shook. Shouto could picture the accompanying scrunched-up nose and pursed lips in disgust before he was turning his torso and slapping Shouto’s knee, “Don’t make me think about my mentor having sex.” 

“You’re the one who knows he was fuck buddies with his best friend at the time.” 

“Anyone with the internet either knows or suspects it. It’s why their relationship was developed for the show. Just. What I was saying is that it’s kind of a let down, knowing that their real life counterparts never had romantic feelings for one another.” 

“Why’s that?” Shouto laid the final curl down on Midoriya’s head. He knew his time was almost all wasted as Midoriya was a restless sleeper, who would inherently cause it to frizz, but it looked so shiny and perfect now. Shouto couldn’t help but run his hands through it, saying, “they’re still good friends, just because it didn’t develop into romantic feelings, that doesn’t make it any less valid. That would be like saying if they ever made a show about us, and in it we got together, that would be better than the relationship we have now. That’s not exactly fair.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Midoriya said. “I think I’m more upset by the addition in this because All Might should clearly confess right now”—he was saying goodbye to David as if he would never see him again—“but doesn’t, so it caused so many people to accuse other fans of not being real fans or whatever because he didn’t. Not to mention it's just so obvious, I mean look at him.” 

Shouto was. All Might’s eyes were very bright. He was telling David how important he was to him but that Japan needed him, even though he had promised he’d stay until summer was over. They were both upset by this. But Shouto didn’t know if that exactly constituted someone being in love or as obvious as Midoriya implied. Shouto always thought it made perfect sense once All Might did confess his feelings in season eight. 

“I mean, maybe. He put his hand on his shoulder just now.” 

“No offense, love, but you are actually the worst person I know for deciding whether or not someone is romantically interested in someone else.”

“Am not.” 

“Shouto-kun, I watched you get confessed to five times in the span of a week and each time you came into my office, talking about how nice everyone was in financing because they kept giving you chocolate bars. Not to mention that guy from Shiketsu was literally writing you love letters for months, and you had to ask me why he spent so much time looking up poems and whether or not he would be upset if you didn’t bother with your own as it seemed like too much of a hassle.” 

“Poetry is a hassle. People should just say what they mean.”

“People do; you’re just dense.” 

“Name one time.” 

“I would, but it would just embarrass you.” 

“Would not.” 

“Trust me, love, it would.” 

Shouto took his hand out of Midoriya’s hair, falling back into the couch cushion while All Might dropped David’s shoulder and shook his head before David could even ask if he could come with him. 

“If anyone’s obvious, it’s David Shield.” 

The statement got Midoriya to turn from where he was seated to look at him and then back to the tv then back to him again. “What, really? David’s reactions are always so controlled.” 

“He literally couldn’t stop staring at All Might when he got out of the shower three episodes ago.” 

“Okay, well maybe that was a tad obvious.” 

“And, he’s letting All Might walk away right now too.” Shouto continued. “I’m not upset he doesn’t confess here. It’s obvious that if pushed, All Might wouldn’t choose him, and David will survive by letting him go. He knows better than to ask for anything more than that. All Might will always be a hero first.”

Midoriya had settled his rapid back and forth between Shouto and the screen, favoring the screen ad David did just as Shouto said, biting his lip and not saying anything after All Might poses that there was no other way. David could have asked him to stay. He could have asked him to come with him. He could have told him the truth about his feelings. He didn’t. 

Midoriya said, “With the way you’re talking about All Might, it almost sounds like no one would ever risk confessing to him because of his duty. I know Toshinori never had much interest in romantic love, but that doesn’t mean people, heroes, are undeserving of being loved by someone special too.”

It took Shouto a moment to place the defensive tone of Midoriya’s voice. A half a second longer to regret that he hadn’t chosen his words more carefully. Midoriya wasn’t All Might, but people drew comparisons between the two all of the time. Some of it was done innocently enough, Midoriya did inherit his quirk after all, but others did so with malice. Quick to point out all the places Midoriya had fallen short of his mentor or needlessly changed his path. They had come after his dating life too, no matter how nonexistent it was. Just the chatter about Midoriya potentially seeing anyone was enough for people to say he wasn’t focusing on his career and saving those who mattered more. They wanted Midoriya all for themselves. 

Shouto said, “you’re not him, Midoriya. You’re not going to end up alone.” 

He could have left it at that. But he also, thought, maybe, Midoriya didn’t always believe it to be true, that he looked at his life, and all his accomplishments and successes, and it was bittersweet because there was no one there to share them all with. He had friends, sure, amazing ones even. But where Shouto knew he could be satisfied with just this, he knew Midoriya yearned for love. How something so simple and mundane could be the one thing the strongest man in Japan didn’t think he’d ever get to see himself or deserve.

“Soon, someone’s going to catch your eye,” Shouto continued. “Someone special, who you can’t stand to look away from whenever you’re in a room together because they’re everything you’ve ever dreamed of and thought possible. I bet you’ll become a better hero for it. Stronger. Braver. Kinder. They’re going to make you happy. Happier than you ever thought possible. They’re going to make you see what I, and all our other friends already know, how truly incredible you are. And they’re going to love you, not because you’re a hero, but because you’re you, Midoriya Izuku.”

In his impromptu speech, Midoriya had turned back to him. He was stretching the fabric of his pajama pants, but he was staring at Shouto, taking all that he was saying in. 

“You really think I deserve all that?” 

“I think you deserve whatever you want.”

Midoriya glanced back at the TV. Shouto had missed when All Might had left David on the runway. All Might didn’t look back from the plane. Not once while David was standing there. He marched up those stairs as unaffected as he claimed to be. Because of it, however, Shouto could see the sheen in Midoriya’s eyes. He was not crying. He might not have even been close. Simply overwhelmed. Midoriya’s emotions were like that. Always right at the surface, no reason to ever hide them. 

Midoriya didn’t need Shouto to tell him that he was as capable as anyone else of finding love. More capable, probably. Shouto already did. 

Shouto capped down on his own feelings. It wasn’t about him.

However, when Midoriya took a small shaky breath, he asked, instead, “and what about you, Shouto-kun, where will you be?”

“Where I’ve always been. Right here with you, for as long as you want me to be.”

“No matter what?”

“Of course,” Shouto said, “you’re my best friend, nothing will ever change that.”

Midoriya’s resulting smile was one of his quieter ones. It was no less special, though it was more contained, pointed.

“You don’t know how happy that makes me, love.” 

The pet name shook Shouto. While Midoriya did say it all the time nowadays, Shouto thought they were speaking outside of their pretend relationship. What he was saying was important for Midoriya to hear. He would have said it regardless of this.

Just to make sure he said, “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Midoriya stood. Shouto found himself leaning forward to match Midoriya’s raised arm. He brushed through Shouto’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. Midoriya tilted Shouto's head back, so he could properly stare up at him. Between the moonlight, coming through their still open window and the tv on behind him, Midoriya glowed. Angelic. 

“You’re my forever, too,” Midoriya finished. “Sooner or later, you’re going to finally realize what that means.” 

Honestly, Shouto wanted to know what he meant now. There was hidden emotion in Midoriya’s expression that he had been catching more and more every time he looked at him, but it was an expression he didn’t have a name for. A look Midoriya had never given anyone else save for Shouto to base his opinion on. He thought about asking, but while he couldn’t read Midoriya’s face, Midoriya could read his. 

“Not tonight,” he said, “soon, just, I’m not ready tonight. I’m still a coward. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re the bravest person I know.”

Midoriya’s responding smile was lopsided and incomplete. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? I promise. Please just be patient with me. You can be patient with me, right love?”

Shouto found himself nodding, even if he was confused by what Midoriya was saying or implying, voicing, “yes,” in case Midoriya needed words instead. It was the right thing to say Midoriya’s relief was cool, refreshing to see. He brought Shouto’s head to his body, and together they breathed.

Shouto wondered if this was something boyfriends would do, or if it was simply something for them. He closed his eyes. He found he didn’t care to know the truth then and there, anyways.

“Hurry up, Shouto-kun, or we’re going to be late,” Midoriya called from the other room. 

They most certainly were not. 

But Midoriya had woken up with an extra pep in his step, which was annoying as Midoriya always woke, excited for the day. Most of the time, Shouto would just only be thinking of making food while he contemplated life and the merits of a hero calling in and going back to bed, ignoring his responsibilities and the people who counted on him, when Midoriya would burst through the doors from his morning run, sometimes with donuts. Those were good days. 

Shouto did not get donuts today, and he was taking his thermos to go. 

When Shouto came from the kitchen, holding both of their drinks, Midoriya was on the couch. 

"Do you think it's colder in here again? I know you said we didn't have to call maintenance, but with fall coming up, I don't want our pipes to freeze or anything."

Midoriya didn't turn to him, still, presumably, finishing tying his shoes. He said, "I left a window open out here last night. I'm sure it's fine." 

Shouto eyed the device not the wall, but his hands were full, and he was sure if there was an actual issue Midoriya would fix it. Besides, Midoriya was currently jumping over the backside of the couch.

“What do you think,” Midoriya asked, twisting his foot left and right to show off his new shoes. 

They were part of a sponsorship with some shoe company Uraraka could tell him all about, but frankly, Shouto did not care. He didn’t pay attention to most items he was given to wear out in public in order for the agency to make more money and fund the various programs they were sponsors for. Midoriya, generally, didn’t care either—he one time pouted when he was told he couldn’t wear a t-shirt and cargo shorts to the beach, and actually had to wear these extremely overpriced red swim shorts and black sunglasses. Shouto nearly drowned that day for unrelated reasons. 

What Midoriya was wearing now was also red. Trademarked red hightops. The soles of which were white—the last few had been black—and they were completely unblemished and fresh from the box. Midoriya had chattered their whole commute home the previous day about how excited he was to get them in time for the day and how his old ones were really starting to fall apart, but he’d keep them to mow the grass whenever he helped out Toshinori.

“They’re nice,” Shouto said.

Midoriya beamed, straightening up and clasping two hands proudly around the straps of his yellow backpack from high school, which was stuffed full with who knew what. Shouto hadn’t been told they needed to bring anything, and Midoriya wasn’t commenting on the fact that he was missing his own book bag. Or, if he had, Shouto missed it because Midoriya had also decided to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He was so, so tan and freckled. If Shouto didn’t have a quirk that protected him from most things normal people had to worry about regarding the weather, Shouto knew he'd burn if he showed even a bit of skin. He definitely didn’t tan nor were his muscles as pronounced if he decided he wanted to push back his own sleeves. 

However, the worst offender of Midoriya’s outfit today was the fact that he had chosen to wear his glasses—big black things that had no right to make anyone look hot, let alone, hotter. Midoriya was supposed to pick up his new contacts yesterday, but he had told Shouto, he had run out of time, which Shouto knew was a lie, as Midoriya had time to pick up the sixth and seventh season of Prelude, and his eye doctor’s place wasn’t too far from there. Not to mention, Shouto would have picked them up for him if Midoriya had asked. 

Regardless, Midoriya didn’t, and now Shouto had to suffer with Midoriya’s bright green eyes being larger and rounder and prettier.

“You look nice too, love,” Midoriya said, taking his cup from Shouto, “you should wear mint more often. It suits you.” 

Shouto didn’t even remember if he had a thought process in picking out the shirt today save that he wanted to look nice, they were going to be in an air-conditioned room most of the day, and he wanted to be comfortable. However, now, he was holding himself back from opening his phone and ordering ten shirts in a particular shade of green just because. 

“Now, come on,” Midoriya said, looping their arms together, “I don’t want to miss the train, and I want to get there early, so we can surprise everyone.” 

Shouto didn’t bother telling Midoriya that it didn’t matter how early they got there, everyone already knew they were coming. Also, he wasn’t sure if the office would even let them roam the halls beforehand as they were usually strict about random adults showing up at schools. Granted, maybe two top ten pro heroes weren’t exactly who people would consider nefarious, but Shouto was a firm believer that rules and regulations should still apply to them even if they were “famous.” 

Furthermore, he had already texted Fuyumi that they were about out the door, and she knew where they lived and likely how long it would take them to reach her. He hoped it gave her enough time to get some important lessons in before they showed up because whenever he tended to come and sit in on one of her classes, it sort of ruined the whole day for actual learning. Fuyumi insisted that it didn’t and that Shouto was doing a good thing, but he had his doubts. 

However, this was the first time Shouto was bringing Midoriya with him. Shouto had mentioned it offhandedly one night that he needed to schedule a visit with Fuyumi as he usually stopped by each semester and wondered out loud if maybe that was something that both of them could do—as public boyfriends and all—and Midoriya refused to drop it until Fuyumi agreed and go get approval for both of them to be there. Midoriya had been vibrating ever since. 

Midoriya hopped off the bus when it was their stop and was quick to grab Shouto’s hand to pull him to the front door of the elementary school. He also may have scared the receptionist, just a tad, when they were checking in, and Midoriya proceeded to talk about how much he enjoyed going to class when he was little. She had nodded and told him she hoped he enjoyed his experience today to which Midoriya said he absolutely would before asking for directions to Fuyumi’s class. 

Shouto was sure to thank her calmly before reminding Midoriya that he knew where they were going and that Fuyumi was expecting them. 

It was sort of fun seeing Midoriya so enthralled in a place like this, cooing at the small lockers and stopping to be enraptured by class projects hung on the walls. He was an absolute dork, for one, yet, Shouto stopped whenever Midoriya got distracted by anything or anyone. There weren’t many people in the halls, but for those who were, Midoriya signed whatever they wanted and took a picture with them before sending them on their way. He was lucky the whole school didn’t pour out of their classrooms as word got around that the Number One Hero was gifting autographs in the hall. But, eventually, they got to the 1st year hall, and Fuyumi’s room. Shouto had to only knock twice before Fuyumi was opening the door, and they were greeted by a chorus of young children saying hello. 

“Hello!” Midoriya called after them before bowing in the door’s threshold. “Thank you for having us.” 

A few children giggled at that while Fuyumi said, “it’s an honor to get to host you, Deku-san, please come inside.”

It was all Midoriya needed before he was walking straight toward the front of the classroom. 

Once he was out of earshot, Shouto asked, “what? is it not an honor to see me too?” 

Fuyumi rolled her eyes, “I get to see you every Sunday. It’s not every day you get to meet the Number One Hero, though.” 

If Fuyumi was talking about herself, Shouto might have pushed the issue more. But this was about her children, who were all teetering on the edge of their seats while Midoriya introduced himself properly in front of the chalkboard.

“Come on,” she said, “I still plan on teaching today, even with the excitement.”

It might have been true, Fuyumi had made her lesson plan surrounded by the idea that two oversized children were going to overly excite her normal-sized ones; however, apparently, kids weren’t so thrilled about learning about basic addition when they could be staring at Midoriya, sitting in one of those tiny plastic children's chairs, after turning down Fuyumi’s offered real-sized chair He took in everything Fuyumi was saying at the head of the class. When she was done, he offered to help anyone who needed it. Shouto swore he never saw twenty hands shoot up so fast in his life. 

Midoriya went to each and everyone, helping them as best he could, which was really well. Midoriya was always good at understanding the core reason for someone not understanding a topic and then branching out from there without any frustration if the first explanation didn’t stick. It’s what made him such a good study partner back in high school, and Shouto believed that if none of them could be heroes, Midoriya would have made as good of a teacher as Fuyumi.

At story time, Fuyumi suggested that maybe one of their hero guests wouldn’t mind reading one of the books the class had picked out for the day. Midoriya eagerly accepted, which based on Fuyumi’s knowing look was the plan all along as she went back to her desk to grade whatever it was children of this age were graded on—it wasn’t like Shouto would know, he was homeschooled at this age, after all, and generally didn’t remember most of his childhood pre-UA, which his therapist had told him was completely normal, all things considered. 

But Shouto wasn’t about to offer to help grade with Fuyumi when he could just as easily sit crisscrossed on the carpet—immediately surrounded by kids on all sides—and listen to Midoriya tell him, them, all a great story. Midoriya had such a nice reading voice. He really knew how to animate it in spots and create suspense in others. Shouto could listen to him all day. He cursed himself for not even thinking about attempting to record it. 

At recess, Midoriya was practically tackled as the kids decided he made for a better jungle gym than the ones they had, though Midoriya took it in stride, adapting to their games as they went. Shouto was ready to join them all but was stopped when Fuyumi stood next to him. He sensed that she had something to say to him, though it took her a while—half of recess at least—before she did. 

“You know I had to find out from Musutafu Times that you two were dating from some old copy in the break room,” she said. "At first I thought it was fake, but no, it was real, my baby brother just didn’t think to mention it to me.” 

“I’m sorry nee-san, we were trying to keep it under wraps.” 

“Please, anyone with two eyes could tell you both were in love with each other, it was just a matter of time.” She spared him a glance, shaking her head at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Shouto, you’ve never been good at hiding your stronger feelings from anyone.” 

Shouto’s stomach curdled. He knew his sister was right. It took so much effort to do so. He knew to strangers, a lot of the time, he appeared apathetic or nonchalant, but if he knew someone, he didn’t bother as much to try and contain himself. Hell, Shouto couldn’t remember the last time he thought to act like someone he wasn’t in front of Midoriya for his sake. He simply couldn’t. 

Did that mean, Midoriya knew? 

Had known for a while?

But then what was this? A convoluted game where the end was Midoriya telling him that none of it was real and could never be? Shouto already knew that. But it wasn’t in Midoriya’s nature to be cruel. If he did know, he would have never offered to do this with him. He wouldn’t risk hurting him like that. 

Though, it was unfair for Shouto to keep using Midoriya like this. No matter how much Shouto felt like this was the final piece that was missing his whole life: to be loved and to love the most important person in his life. Marching on further, only meant that the truth would eventually get out—Shouto’s truth—and it would hurt Midoriya to know that he couldn’t be that for Shouto. Not in the actuality that was. 

But, Fuyumi had said they love each other. She presumed Midoriya loved him back. Shouto could understand how she could confuse it. 

Midoriya loved everyone. He loved his childhood best friend. He loved their high school teacher. He loved the cashier that always drew rabbit ears on the receipt when she reminded them to take the survey at the end. He loved Uraraka, even after they stopped dating; he probably loved her more now. He loved All Might, his mother, and his father, who always sent his birthday card late, but Midoriya said it was good enough that he remembered to send it at all. Midoriya might have even loved Shouto’s own father, not because he was a good man or anything—Midoriya did hate him, resolutely, Shouto knew that—but because he respected people who tried to change, no matter how horrible their actions were previously. 

So, yes, Midoriya Izuku did love Shouto, but he did not love Shouto, not the way Shouto loved him. 

“Can I tell you when I knew,” Fuyumi asked at Shouto’s silence. Midoriya had three children hanging on either arm with others in line to go next. He was talking to them too. He was probably enlightening them with a bunch of facts about their favorites—one kid was wearing a Dynamight t-shirt—and Midoriya was grinning like he did when he was talking about heroes. 

It had been a while since they had gone to Midoriya’s favorite hero shop. Since they were technically getting done early today, they could easily stop and look around, and maybe get dinner out. Nothing too fancy. Something warm to fill them up and cap off a good day. 

He nodded for his sister. 

“The first time you ever brought him to the family estate for dinner,” she said, “you looked at him like he was your whole world.” Was he? Shouto didn’t need to ask himself that. He knew. “I was a little taken aback, at first, but you had changed a lot since you had started school that year, and partly, I had that boy to thank, though you never failed to amaze me back then too. You’ve always been remarkable.”

It was not the first time a member of his family had stated that. Shouto doubted that it would be the last, though he hoped with time, it would stop feeling so unearned. But she was right, he wouldn’t be who he was today without Midoriya. He might have been able to change on his own, but it would have been small, barely incremental. Midoriya was the one who reminded him what it was like to believe in heroes again, to want to be a hero again, and for that, he would forever be grateful. 

“But it was hard to worry about the scale of your emotions when I could see how fiercely he loved you back. It was in his eyes too as he complimented you. It was in his stance whenever our father spoke, or even me or Natsuo talked, as if was watching us and waiting to intervene if anyone did anything wrong or hurtful. It was looking at you when you weren’t looking back, just because he could, because he wanted to make sure you were safe and that he would keep you safe if he needed to.”

A few nights ago Shouto woke up to a sore throat, uneven breathing, and a shirt that was either frozen stiff or dangerously close to melting off of him. He couldn’t see his room. He had shut his curtains too tightly, so he couldn’t see the succulent Midoriya placed on his dresser that Midoriya then made sure to water monthly so that it didn’t die, and for perilous seconds Shouto couldn’t remember where he was, who he was, what he was doing, only that he was scared and nothing ever good came from being scared. 

But then light flooded his room and instead of the dark imposing figure of his father, who never breached the threshold unless Shouto refused to listen to him, it was Midoriya, who never hesitated at any doorway when he knew there was someone who needed his help, bruising his knees on the floor where he fell, half a meter or so away from Shouto because he had learned long ago that it was better to wait to try to touch before Shouto said anything. While Midoriya might forgive Shouto, blame himself, it used to make Shouto sick in high school to know he had caused the faint injuries on Midoriya’s arms. 

However, they weren’t in high school, they hadn’t been for a while, and they had learned to know what worked and what didn’t work, and Shouto might have been scared, might have been breathless, and shaking and weak, and knew that there really wasn’t much Midoriya could do to combat his demons—Shouto had to heal from them himself—but Midoriya was there and that was enough. Would always be enough. Shouto didn’t even think. He didn’t even try to wrestle the blankets from around his waist before he was throwing himself into Midoriya’s waiting arms. Because this was normal. The nightmares less so, as time went on, but the comfort afterward always was. 

Midoriya didn’t hush him. He didn’t patronize him or remind him where he was because he knew Shouto knew because Shouto had fallen into him. Midoriya simply wrapped his arms around Shouto’s back and held him as tight as he could against him while he whispered about nothing. It was always nothing. A fact or something Midoriya picked up. But it was enough to calm Shouto down so that he didn’t feel as though he was going to break apart at the seams and dissolve into his blankets over shadows he couldn't even remember. 

Only when Shouto’s shakiness recovered and the screaming had stopped, would Midoriya fix his hold on him again. Not to put him back to bed or put him down, but to pick him up, to hold Shouto tightly where Midoriya's beating heart lay, and take him out of his room. 

The trip to Midoriya’s room was short. The lamp beside Midoriya’s bed was on and soft orange either from when he woke up to Shouto’s yelling or left on because Midoriya had yet to fall asleep. He shut it off then once he was close enough. A quick pull at the string before climbing into his bed. 

He’d let Shouto roll off of him if Shouto wanted to. It was always an option. But the unsaid request, and Shouto’s own wishes, kept him where he would eventually fall asleep. Midoriya underneath him, raised slightly by his pillows, and Shouto still on his chest, clutching his nightshirt, with his head pressed firmly against his chest. It didn’t matter that it was slightly uncomfortable for both of them. Shouto was too long for it. It made it so his feet hang off the bed, and while Midoriya was the strongest man alive, it also couldn’t be good to try to sleep with a full-grown man on him such as this. 

But Midoriya never complained. Instead, he wrapped his left arm around Shouto’s back to keep him steady and secure, and with his free hand card through Shouto’s hair, mixing the divide before fixing it again. Over and over. Oftentimes, neither of them would speak, but on certain occasions, perhaps when it was unknowingly worse, Midoriya would whisper into the crown of his head, and say, “it’s okay. I’m here. I will keep you safe.” 

The only addition to it on the previous night was Midoriya finishing with, “my love.” 

It felt a lot more monumental now in a playground surrounded by six-year-olds than it had when Shouto fell asleep and woke up in the same place. Midoriya’s warmth all around him. It was too much for words, to even try to parse out, so he swallowed, and to Fuyumi, he said, “he makes me happy.”

“I know.” Because it was obvious to Fuyumi. Obvious for a reason. “Just,” she said, “when you two get engaged, try to let us all know before the paparazzi do, okay?”

When and not if. It repeatedly thudded in his ears as Fuyumi called for recess to be over and all the kids groaned, including Midoriya, who slowly set the children down before returning to Shouto and squeezing his hand when he didn’t immediately smile back. 

“Are you okay?”

Shouto’s head had too many words. Too many questions to wonder which ones he needed to ask for clarification on. So he nodded instead. It wouldn’t do well to completely appease Midoriya, but it was enough to get them to start walking back to the classroom. For the rest of the middle part of the day, Shouto felt untethered, floating through Fuyumi’s lessons and then lunch. He kept wanting to turn to Midoriya and demand he answer what he asked him. 

You call me love, why? 

And, worse.

If I’m your love, does that make you mine?

Shouto was still too scared of the real answers to pose them, however. His belief about Midoriya’s capacity to love just as true. It could have been Shouto who was confused. Who mistook proper friendship for something more, something deeper when in reality it was not. Midoriya only called him love because they started fake dating. He wouldn’t have otherwise. 

It wasn’t an answer from Midoriya. But it did calm Shouto enough that he could return to the classroom after lunch and not feel like his heart was the wrong size for his chest. 

During arts and crafts, he sat patiently at the table and helped color in the lines with crayons and markers a yellow cape with the rest of the children all around him. All serious about the pictures they would finish coloring and eventually get displayed outside of Fuyumi’s classroom. Midoriya was across the room, no doubt coloring his cape blue and red, as his version of a hero came out to be some sort of version of All Might. When Shouto searched him out near the end of the session, he found Midoriya already there to find him, meeting him with a smile before bending down to whisper to a girl sitting next to him. She nodded before he grabbed something off the table and started his way toward Shouto. 

Shouto returned his attention to his own drawing. He was embarrassing, really. So, so, embarrassing. But he hoped Midoriya only saw it as a harmless joke. The other kids all around him all drew the same hero as him too, so really, it was Midoriya’s fault for coming along on this trip. 

“How is everyone doing over here,” Midoriya asked once he was close enough to their table. 

“Good,” the children replied to him before lifting all their papers up to show him. At the very least, Shouto got to watch Midoriya soften at the sight of seeing himself crayoned over the printed stock image of a hero Fuyumi had found online. It was touching to watch Midoriya kneel beside everyone and point out all the small details they had gotten right in recreating his hero costume. What he had brought with him was a sheet of gold stickers, which he peeled and placed on each piece of artwork that was handed to him, catching every child before reaching Shouto. 

“You too, Shouto-kun?”

“I was inspired,” Shouto said, amending, “though, I hope you forgive me for taking a few creative liberties.”

Midoriya snorted. “Not even Tenya-kun wears his glasses in his hero costume. You know how many times I break or lose my phone. Glasses? I’d be legally blind after every fight.”

“But do you like it?”

Midoriya swayed slightly when he looked back down at him, catching himself only when he took in Shouto’s coloring once more. 

“It’s perfect, love,” Midoriya said, “gold star for you too.” 

Only, instead of placing it in the upper corner like he had all the rest. He put the star on Shouto’s cheek before pecking it. Shouto scoffed and pulled away from Midoriya. They were in front of children. His only course of respite was peeling off a sticker himself and tugging on Midoriya’s arm to get him closer before putting the sticker on his cheek too. He managed to get his kiss in as Midoriya laughed and attempted to push him away, only Shouto was insistent on this. If Midoriya was going to act ridiculous in public, he was too. 

Granted, they weren’t exactly in a public place but a classroom. Fuyumi’s classroom. When Shouto released Midoriya, who ruffled his hair before fully standing, luckily, there was no one paying attention. Most of the kids were over at their friends’ seats to show them what they had done, and Fuyumi was helping a boy finish his coloring as well. At least, most of the children weren’t paying attention to them. The boy in the Dynamight t-shirt was glaring at them, matching the little orange hero he had colored, who, once he realized Shouto had spotted him had dutifully said, “you’re gross,” before going to find his own friends. 

“Midoriya, we’re scarring children.”

“Nonsense. We’re being good role models of what a healthy relationship looks like.” 

Shouto only offered one bemused look over to his friend, who told him to hush—he didn’t say anything—before kissing his raised eyebrow. Shouto wasn’t sure what else Midoriya dared to do on a plastic blue chair in front of twenty, six-year-olds because Fuyumi stood up in the middle of the classroom, telling everyone to clean up their spaces before going to their cubbies to retrieve their blankets for nap time. Midoriya bounced on his toes and then tugged on Shouto’s shoulder. 

“Come on, Shouto-kun, you need to teach me how to nap.” 

To save him from having his shoulder dislocated, he followed Midoriya to his backpack and then around the classroom as Midoriya surveyed the best place for nap time to take place. 

“I don’t think Fuyumi was talking about us, you know,” Shouto said, letting himself get dragged to and fro as Midoriya decided that against the cupboards and mostly hidden by some table and chairs was the perfect spot. “And you hate naps. You yell at me all the time for sleeping during the day.”

“Because I know it’ll ruin your sleep pattern, silly,” Midoriya said, opening his bag and pulling out two blankets that Shouto recognized from their home. “And everyone knows nap time is more of a quiet time. I never fell asleep when I was younger, though that may have just been because I was bothering Kacchan the whole time, so we could talk about All Might more than we did already at recess.” 

Midoriya gave him the option between the two blankets, and Shouto chose the blue one. He dutifully listened to Midoriya when he told him where to lay, making sure to face each other.  Shouto suspected it was because it gave Midoriya the easiest access to Shouto’s hand, though it was Shouto, who started massaging Midoriya’s. Midoriya might have had fun today, but coloring and writing always caused his hands to swell and ache. Shouto was slow when he started to apply heat around the same time Fuyumi shut off the lights in the classroom. 

“This has been nice,” Midoriya whispered. 

Shouto agreed. It was nice to get to things differently than their regular day-to-day. The life of a hero was fulfilling as it was stressful. But they were always offered these excursions to local communities to be more than distant unobtainable pillars. Shouto didn’t really know how much sitting in a classroom did, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

“Do you ever think about having kids, Shouto-kun?”

Shouto continued to massage Midoriya’s scars. He supposed if anything would prompt such a question, hanging out with a bunch of children would do that. He said, “Maybe. I haven’t really given it much thought. What about you?”

Midoriya said, “I’d like to think so one day. However Midoriya father’s don’t really have that great of track record of being good fathers, and I wouldn’t want to be just another absent dad because I’m a hero and all.”

“Who knows, I always liked when my stupid hero father was out of the house. I probably would have benefited more from more absenteeism.”

“Shouto-kun!” Scandalized. Followed by. “I am not stupid.” 

“Then I think you’re good. You’d be a great father, Midoriya, you’ve always been good with children.”

“You really think so?” Shouto nodded, his attention shifting back to Midoriya’s hand, not his glowing adoration for telling him something so obvious. Midoriya was inherently gentle. Understanding. He only wanted what was best for people and supported everyone he came across the best way he knew how. Of course, Midoriya would be a good dad, probably even fall in the top 1% of best fathers of all time if people tracked for such a thing.

“For the record,” Midoriya said, “I think you’d be a good dad, too." Midoriya rested his head against his free arm. He said, "also the favorite, since you’d sneak them treats before bed even after they brushed their teeth, so then we’d all have to go back into the bathroom to redo it, so no one gets cavities, and they all hate on me because I tell them no candy before bed whenever you’re away on a job, and I might cave, but you still win because you decided to get little inexpensive knick knacks that don’t really mean all that much but are super personable because you gave it thought and care for each of our children, and cookies, again, before bed, because you’re a fiend, but I’ll pretend not to notice because I’m so happy you’re back, and we can all read whatever story was picked out for that night before finally all going to bed.” 

Shouto didn’t know when he stopped massaging Midoriya’s hands, allowing him to ramble about his hypothetical family and their adventures, until Midoriya halted and amended, “Well, of course, not with me, but whoever you end up marrying or settling down with or, hell, just do it on your own because if anyone can manage being a single father with a full time job in heroics, it would be you.”

Shouto was sure to drop his attention back to their hands. He didn’t know why the statement flustered him so. Perhaps because he was always a little unwell whenever Midoriya complimented him. But the growing silence was getting to be a tad awkward, and Shouto didn’t want that either. He didn’t want Midoriya to become uncomfortable and risk never speaking about his future wants again. 

“It’s a far time from now for either of us, I think,” Shouto said. 

Midoriya nodded, pressing his lips together, “Yeah, ideally I’d like a husband first.”

“Think you need a boyfriend first,” Shouto reminded. 

“Hey!”

“Don’t hey me,” Shouto said, attempting to blow the fringe out of his eyes as he moved his way to Midoriya’s other hand, which wasn’t as prone to cramping, but Midoriya always said it felt nice, and Shouto wasn’t known for being stingy when it came to Midoriya’s comfort. 

“Your hair is getting pretty long, you’ve been pushing it out of your face all day,” Midoriya commented. “If you want to grow it out again, we should stop and get some hair ties, so it stops annoying you, or when we get home, I can see if the barber you like has any upcoming availabilities. I’m due for a trim too. We could see about going together.” 

Shouto’s hair had been annoying him recently. When he was in high school he had let it grow out to be about shoulder length before he discovered there was a temperature he could go to that started his hair on fire. Not ideal. He had been keeping it shorter ever since, and while a part of him missed having longer hair, shorter hair was easier. He just had to wash it and not think about it for the rest of the day. Perfect. 

“Okay,” Shouto said, “but I was hoping we’d stop by the mall first to see if they had that limited edition Dynamight sweater in stock that you’ve been talking about and then maybe we could go to the hot pot place down the street. I have the coupons for both in my wallet.” 

Midoriya’s eyes sparkled, and he lurched forward in his excitement. He didn’t get far, being on his stomach and all, but he absolutely beamed. “Yes! That sounds perfect. I already asked my management team about the sweater, but it would be more authentic if I could find it out and about—Kacchan’s going to be so mad. I can’t wait.”

Shouto didn’t really know the details about why Bakugou had banned Midoriya from getting any of his merch, but there were certain aspects about the pair that Shouto knew were better left unsaid. 

“However,” Shouto said, “I’m only going out with you if you promise to wear your brace once we leave here today, and before you say you didn’t bring it, I put it in the front pocket of your backpack last night, so you have no excuse.”

“Deal.” Midoriya said, “Ochako also has a new figure coming out and some stores have been displaying it earlier, so if we see it I just have to have it. She looks so cool. They don’t always manage to do the zero gravity thing all that well, but this one really looks like it’s floating. It’s amazing. She has it in her office. I really need to ask her what company she went with. All of our figures should go through them. It was awesome. Oh! I think there was also a sale going on this week for shirts too, so we’ll have to check out those. Just to look. I don’t really need anything, but I know you were sad you didn’t get that strawberry cat shirt last time, so we should probably get that if they have it. Also I was thinking about going hiking with Eijirou and Kacchan, so if we have time, we should run over to the sporting goods store. I swear it will be like five minutes, I know the place gives you hives.”

Midoriya probably would have continued on further about all he wanted to do, only Fuyumi flipped the lights on, telling everyone it was time to get up and put away their mats and blankets. Shouto dropped Midoriya’s hands as various groans came from the children spread out across the room. Shouto was a tad disappointed too, but he didn’t voice it. He was going to tell Midoriya that they could do whatever he wanted, Shouto had no preferences, save for wanting to spend time with him; however, before Shouto could get far, Midoriya took the opportunity to clutch both of Shouto’s hands and then gave himself some serious carpet burn as he closed the distance to kiss him. 

Only after he pulled away, did he say, “thank you for taking care of me, love.” 

Midoriya was tired. He hadn’t gone on a tangent for an hour, and only spoke when someone was directly asking him a question, nor had he gone up to the bar, requesting a refill or allowed any of their many friends to do it either. As the summer season was officially drawing close, Momo always held a party and reserved a hall in a too fancy hotel—this one overlooked the ocean and had a good view of the city—with an open bar, reserved for only heroes and their partners. It was nice. The sunset had been magnificent and getting to talk with all their friends in one spot without the threat of being annihilated was also carefree. Of course, not everyone could make it. Jirou was out of the country, and Shoji was working. Shouto had gotten here late as his patrol had run into an issue that he had to fully take care of before stopping at home to change and freshen up, taking a cab to meet everyone here. 

But it was getting late. Not exactly pushing it, they had all stayed up much later in high school, and Shouto was certain several of his old classmates wouldn’t mind hanging out for several hours after this. Plus, Momo always reserved spaces like these overnight for that reason. But it was dark now, the stars, while mostly obscured by light pollution, had long since dotted the sky, and Midoriya kept rubbing his eye. He had a long week. There was a kidnapping crisis on Monday, a block fire on Tuesday, and then an illegal weapons bust on Thursday. Midoriya wouldn’t have missed this, save a multi-block villain attack, but Shouto knew his limits when he reached them, even though Midoriya always figured he had to push beyond them for others’ sake. 

Shouto had no such qualms. When he was done talking with Tokoyami, he walked toward the couch Midoriya had taken residency. His companions had switched off and on, but it was currently Uraraka, Iida, and Kirishima.

“Hey, love,” Midoriya said as soon as he was close, entangling their fingers, placing a kiss on Shouto’s exposed forearm before resting his head on it and refusing to let him go.

“Hey.” Shouto didn’t quite mind Midoriya using him as a headrest nor that he felt many eyes boring into his back the whole while. He asked, “Can we head home? I’m getting tired,” because he knew if he came at this from the point of view of Midoriya being one to want to go home, Midoriya would deny it and say that Shouto deserved to hang around all their friends longer. 

Shouto saw all of them enough. They had been there for hours already as it was. They could take their leave. 

Shouto wondered, however, if Midoriya knew the truth of it as he stared up at him. He knew, after all, that it was Shouto’s day to sleep in, and if Shouto truly was tired, he’d just fall asleep here, on one of the couches, waiting until Midoriya was ready. 

“Okay, we can head out. Let’s just say goodbye to everyone first.” 

Shouto nodded, dutifully keeping hold of Midoriya’s arm as he led them around to all their friends to say goodbye and earned themselves many well wishes. Not all of them wanted to see them go. If Shouto could, he’d freeze these few solid before they could speak. Perhaps, Shouto was also done with socialization for the day. 

Kaminari claimed it was barely past 10 pm—it was in fact well after 11 pm—and Iida said he actually had wanted to catch up with Shouto about a new patrol route he was thinking about implementing, though Uraraka was quick to jump in and say this wasn’t a work function. Ashido wanted pictures for her timeline, which Uraraka then quickly doubled, apologizing, then for wasting their time. Shouto was pretty sure they were never going to leave at this rate and thought about the merits of accidentally falling off the balcony just to at least get them outside. Midoriya would catch him, and Shouto could at least say he had one drink and that was why his quirk didn’t activate to save himself. It would be good. 

“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, love.” Midoriya poked him in the cheek while their friends were trying to set up a last-minute round of shots to “see them out.” Shouto did not frown deeper, but he did fall into Midoriya’s shoulder to whine because at least he had to understand how ridiculous they had gotten up to this point. Midoriya patted the back of his head, probably seconds away from giving him condolences when he was cut off by the fact that their class could never once ever leave anything alone.

“You guys,” Kirishima said, “maybe, we should just let them go.” 

“Come on!” Sero said, “it’s just one more drink.”

“Or two,” shouted Kaminari with a smattering of support throughout their small crowd. 

“You don’t even like tequila,” Shouto whispered to the crux of Midoriya’s neck, which he had decided he was going to stay until all of this was over. Midoriya smelling good was only an added bonus. Midoriya patted his head, again, in silent agreement. 

“Come on, we can have the drink without them,” Kirishima tried again, and before he could be outvoted by some dedicated partygoers, he finished with, “I’m sure they have their reasons for wanting to be alone, and uh, you know, spend time together.” 

It was certainly the right thing to say because the room went silent, and Shouto got the sense that every pair of eyes was on them. He almost wanted to leave Midoriya to brave them alone, but this was sort of Shouto’s fault for trying to leave before anyone else wanted the night to be over.

“Shouto-kun is just tired and wants to go to bed.” 

“Sure, he just wants to sleep in the bed. Not anything else that a bed might aid in and cause you two to want to get out of here early.” 

Now, Shouto had milliseconds to realize what everyone was suddenly implying, and only moments before Midoriya clarified that, no, they really were just going to bed, what the hell guys? 

From Shouto’s position of being extra clingy, he retook them all.

“You’re right.” Midoriya choked, though Shouto could only tell because he happened to be right next to his neck and could feel it. “I want to go home, so we can fuck. Can we go now?”

Midoriya’s resulting hissed, “ Shouto-kun ,” was drowned out by the cacophony of noise made by Shouto’s statement. Apparently, it wasn’t a completely foolproof plan to admit their sexual escapades because now people had questions and demands. It was all just very loud. Shouto’s idea to fling himself off the balcony was looking better and better. 

Luckily, there was one soul in that room, who had enough of this all and shouted above the rest. 

“Jesus Christ, let them get the hell out of here. I didn’t come here with the intention of having my night ruined by thinking about that,” Bakugou said, which did in turn, silence the room from talking anymore on the topic. 

Shouto felt Midoriya’s shoulders relax as he breathed out a quiet, “Thank you, Kacchan.”

“Don’t thank me, you deviant. Your cutesy shit makes me wanna puke. Get the fuck out of here.” 

Shouto didn’t need to be told twice. He was conveniently already holding Midoriya, so he pushed into him, encouraging him to move backward and then led him out the door. All the while Midoriya called goodbye to their friends, reminding some of them that they still had work tomorrow to which Iida said he’d take good care of them all. The rest of their responses were cut off by the door and subsequent trip to the elevator. 

Once the doors were closed, Midoriya said, “you’re an evil lying menace, Shouto-kun.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did want to go home.” 

Midoriya didn’t entertain that thought, however, turning on him to scold him with a finger. “The next time Ochako sees me, she’s going to press me for details! I told her we were waiting for a special occasion!”

“So, lie?” 

Shouto didn’t understand why Midoriya was so upset by this, they had been doing okay with all their other fabrications. 

“It’s not the same!”

Shouto frowned. “Midoriya, you’ve had sex before. It’s really not that complicated. You just put your dick in—”

"I know how sex works!" Midoriya shouted over him. 

“Okay,” Shouto said a tad surprised by the outburst. Midoriya even stepped further away from him in the confined space. He wrapped his arms around himself and then eyed how many floors they still had to descend. 

Because Shouto apparently couldn’t help himself but also did want to help Midoriya, he said, “When Iida and I are on patrol on Sunday, I’ll be sure to tell him that you left me very sated and satisfied.” 

Midoriya groaned. For a moment Shouto thought he might kneel, but he didn’t. He refused to look at Shouto, bent over himself as he was, eyes dutifully memorizing the checkered pattern on the carpet. Perhaps Shouto should stop. He really should have. But also, interestingly a red flush was developing along the back of Midoriya’s neck and up to his cheeks, and, well, Shouto was nothing if not helpful to Midoriya’s plight at not coming up with a good enough lie here. 

“You can tell Uraraka that you held me through it all and through the night afterward.” Midoriya’s blush deepened, fascinating; however, Shouto realized a conundrum that superseded his desire to tease his friend further. Uraraka was a tad nosy. If she couldn’t have concrete details, she’d want a unique touch that left no room for thinking they were both lying. “You can also tell her that I set the sheets on fire. It shouldn’t be too hard to remember since I’ve done it before, and I don’t see why she would know.”

“You set things on fire when you have sex?”

Midoriya dropped his arms and stood back to full height. In complete analyzation mode as he met Shouto’s gaze. Eyes wide. Shouto could tell he was holding himself back from spewing more questions. Quirks and their many unseen side effects amazed Midoriya. Unfortunately, Shouto didn’t see how this warranted such a visceral response. Midoriya’s eyes had darkened and had took a step back closer to Shouto even. 

“No,” Shouto said, confused as to how Midoriya came to that conclusion. “I set your pillowcase on fire three times in high school because I had a bad dream. You were there.”

Midoriya blinked. Then blinked again. The color drained a bit from his cheeks, leaving him splotchy in places. He opened and closed his mouths without wounds, realizing this, and then spoke with words tumbling one after the other. "

Oh, yeah, of course, high school, I remember now, it just, took me a second there, that’s all. Totally makes zero sense that you would start on fire when you, umm, you know, uh cu—No sense at all.”

“Well, it has to be believable. If it doesn’t make sense, maybe we need to brainstorm a better lie. Does your quirk"—the elevator doors opened, and Midoriya all but bolted out before Shouto could finish his sentence.

The lobby of the high-rise, while populated sparsely, had too many people around for Shouto to feel comfortable continuing the conversation. Not that Midoriya would let him, all but running to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when the cooler nighttime air hit him. 

He was really strange sometimes.

Shouto adored him. 

While Midoriya took in the sky from the street, Shouto frowned, looking up and down the road. It was going to take forever to get a car given the day and time. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of calling a taxi when they were up at the party, using that as a convenient excuse to leave when it arrived. No point in ruminating on that fact now. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. However, Midoriya spoke, seemingly somewhat back to normal. 

“It’s a beautiful night, we should take a walk.” 

The weather was indeed very nice. Comfortable in the clothes they were wearing. Their apartment wasn’t too far away, and they could always call a cab if either of them got too tired. But then again, Shouto only pushed to leave the party because he knew Midoriya was tired. 

“Are you sure? I thought I was going to watch you nod off a couple times in there? I’m sure the wait isn’t going to be too bad.”

Midoriya considered this while the street painted him in gold, red, and a quick smattering of blue. 

Shouto waited quietly. Too often, Midoriya did a terrible job of realizing his own limits either because they were so beyond what normal people were capable of or because he never learned to take himself into account. It was Shouto’s job to do that, to study and wait and watch all the signs that pointed to Midoriya being unwell and intervening however he could. Shouto thought it likely that he failed at this often, no matter how much he tried his best. 

However, Shouto knew he had his successes there too. Quiet, rainy, Sundays after a Saturday injury where they compromised to keep Midoriya from going out there again to worsen the pain. A trip to Midoriya’s favorite store if he followed up on all his physical therapy appointments—there really was a lot, Shouto could invest in a calendar only for them—or how sometimes it was okay to just sit on a bench, stair out at the grassy field ahead of them, and breathe; a technique he developed in school when everything got to be too much, and there was no ending in sight. This too, their fake relationship, was to help Midoriya.

“I’ll be okay with a walk. We’re off tomorrow. I’ll sleep in.” 

Midoriya’s fingers weren’t tapping along his thigh when he said it nor was his right hand anywhere near close to rubbing his nose. He wasn’t lying. But Midoriya was a natural at lying to himself, believing it, and then letting others believe him. It took a real keen eye to search over all other aspects of him, the parts of him that couldn’t lie and showed honest weariness. His eyes were also the biggest give away. However, for the most part, all those signs were absent. 

Shouto must have been giving Midoriya quite a look, though, because he started saying more. 

“I’ll also take the garbage out, make soba for lunch, and wash your bedding because I know you’ve been putting it off for days now.”

“I do like the smell of your detergent,” Shouto muttered. Whenever Midoriya brought his clothes in from the laundry room, it warmed their whole home up. 

Midoriya’s resulting laugh was short and high, catching the rest of it in his smile. “So is that a yes?” 

Midoriya opened and closed his hand, reaching for Shouto’s. 

“If you get out of bed before 9, I’m taking out my duty-issued cuffs and trapping you to the bed.”

“Is that a promise?” 

“Midoriya.”

“Fine. 8.”

“9.”

“8:30?”

“9.” 

“Okay,” Midoriya said, “but you’re staying in bed too. Neither one of us is to get anything done before then. Also, you’re sleeping over tonight. You drank champagne. You always get bad nightmares when you drink that. I really wish Momo would stop serving it.”

“Oh.” Shouto had no idea if that was a true correlation or not, but who was he to turn down being wrapped snugly in Midoriya’s arms? Certainly not him.

Midoriya was successful in getting Shouto’s hand, starting to walk backward to encourage Shouto to follow him. He did.

“And, sorry love, no matter how much you love the smell of my detergent, I’m not going to wash your bedding in it. I actually should just donate what I have left to my mom or Uraraka since all of our laundry generally gets mixed up regardless, or I just do it.”

“Why?” 

“Because you always buy the unscented, dye free kind? In the white bottle. Have you never noticed mine is red?” 

Shouto didn’t even think that when he stood in the aisle at the store, surrounded by all the laundry detergents he’d be able to name which one he used. He usually picked it up with Fuyumi, who bought the same kind, or sort of remembered what the packaging looked like, which Midoriya was right, it was white and also didn’t really have a smell, now that he thought about it. He had just assumed Midoriya bought the red bottle because red was his favorite color. 

“I’m sure it would be fine, you should use whatever’s easier.” 

“Well, what’s easier is not having you break out into a rash, so we’re going with that option. I swear, next you’re going to tell me you don’t remember when Kirishima accidentally washed your gym uniform, and you couldn’t participate in class activities for three days because your reaction to it was so bad.”

Apparently, Shouto’s non-response was enough of a response for Midoriya who said, “ Shouto-kun.” Shouto only shrugged. A lot happened in high school, he didn’t think he was a worse hero for it because he missed a couple of days of practical lessons due to the one time his clothes got washed with scents or whatever. 

“I swear with you sometimes,” Midoriya said. “I cannot contemplate what you would do if I wasn’t around. You’d probably still be melting plastic spoons on hot burners.” 

“That was one time.”

“You iced our whole entire oven. We had to get a new one and replace part of the counter. We’re never seeing our deposit back.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you threw a ball at the wall and it went through it on the first day. You’re lucky I’ve gotten good at slowing down projectiles because you don’t know your own strength.”

“Oh, yeah,” Midoriya said, nodding before he started to swing clasped hands together. “Maybe that just means we both need each other, then.”

Shouto liked that. He always knew he needed Midoriya, in whatever way that may be, though he had come to enjoy this new stage of their relationship. It might have mostly been false, but Shouto felt closer to Midoriya than he had before when they were just friends. It was partially due to all the touching. They had touched before—Midoriya was a big advocate of daily hugs and other small, kind touches—but, looking back on it, there was still hesitation there. For both of them that didn’t exist anymore. He liked holding Midoriya’s hand. It was calloused and rough and his. 

Further, and probably more important, was that ironically, in this lie, Shouto had to pretend less. He didn’t have to hold his tongue as much or wonder about the meaning of a gesture when all of it was in service of the same thing. Midoriya might think all he was doing was bolstering the original agreement, but Shouto knew the truth about it. Somehow, that fact didn’t scare him as much as it should have. It didn’t make him wary of the inevitable change that would eventually happen, that would end it. Shouto didn’t know if he would be able to go back to being “just friends" with Midoriya but that wasn’t a thought for this night to decide. 

He scowled when Midoriya led him off the sidewalk to a small park. One of the ones Midoriya ran through in the morning, depending on what route he was taking. It might have been after hours, but then again, who was going to arrest top pro heroes, taking a peaceful night walk? Shouto did nothing to stop Midoriya from taking them past the sign and down the dirt path, which led to a pond that held sleeping paddle boats. While it was not yet fall, a few leaves had already begun to litter the path. 

Midoriya said, “thank you, by the way, it’s hard for me, sometimes, to disappoint people, and I know so many of our friends wanted to talk to me, and I did too, I really did, just. It’s a lot sometimes. I was ready to go.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for that. You'd do the same thing for me.”

There were plenty of unfortunate dinner parties at his father’s estate in which Midoriya would have an excuse ready the moment the dinner was over. Midoriya had also gotten him out of one or two meetings with people that had too big of personalities for the room or were just rather boring. Midoriya had always been good at just knowing and intervening when he could. 

“It’s not just that,” Midoriya said. “You’re always there. In whatever way I need you. You could spoil someone with that kind of attention.”

Shouto wasn’t sure if he agreed. It wasn’t wrong to pay attention and know things about the person he cared about most. Plus, he had so many thoughts and details that he already knew of Midoriya after years of being his friend, it made sense that they would reference them at various points to make Midoriya’s life easier. 

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to say,” Midoriya continued, “you’re too good for me, maybe?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Midoriya. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for you. I owe you far more than I could ever give.” 

“Is that all this is, then? You paying me back for a debt, you don’t owe, nor I expect?”

Shouto couldn’t meet the inquisitiveness on the other’s face, so he didn’t. The implication of Midoriya’s words sounded crueler than what Shouto knew to be true, that he was just nice to Midoriya because he helped him all those years ago. And, yeah, if he hadn’t, Shouto didn’t know if he would be so drawn to Midoriya now or if he would have faded truly into the background of their class to remain isolated and alone, fostering resentment and hate for all those who weren’t. It wasn’t something Shouto dwelled on often. It wasn’t even a good thought experiment for prosperity. Shouto had changed, and while he didn’t put the whole weight of it on Midoriya—he, as his therapist was keen on reminding him, had done a lot of work himself—but Midoriya helped. He helped nowadays too. 

“You’re my favorite person,” Shouto said as they neared the edge of the pond. A faint breeze disrupted its calm surface. “I think that, more than anything, is why I,” adore, cherish, love, “want to help you where I can. Be there for you if I’m able. I don’t know if that’s me spoiling you, or anything, that’s just how I feel.”

The words made Shouto’s mouth dry, and the hand he was holding Midoriya’s with became clammy and uncomfortable. Midoriya didn’t offer any protests when Shouto slid it out of his to bend down along the rocky bank of the water to dip his fingers in as a welcomed distraction. Shouto drew shapes in the water. Circles, squares, and triangles. All thin enough to splinter when he pressed his finger to the center, sinking them.

Midoriya’s silence was heavy behind him. Weighted. Shouto tried not to focus too much on that, what he just said, and if it was wrong somehow. He kept his attention on the pond and the dark seaweed he could see just below the surface, swaying slightly, and the fish that swam between them. The silence stretched impossibly far and long. But Shouto did not speak. He could not. He knew if he did, he would just say more truths, and they would compound, one over the other, until it was so obvious what his actual feelings were on the matter that it would be impossible to ignore. Granted, Shouto never did think he was hiding from Midoriya. Especially not now. It had just become complicated in his head. Convoluted.

Among all that, and him tracing nonsensical patterns, a few curious ducks, who had been swimming a distance from them, paddled closer, typically expecting food from whoever sat at the bench behind him. They were cautious yet curious, watching his hands as they traced over the water, awaiting a reward for staying near. Shouto dug into his pocket and pulled out a packet of freeze-dried strawberries that Momo was fond of and was making everyone try. He hoped she didn’t mind that he shared his portion with some midnight ducks, breaking the slices into smaller portions and tossing them out for the four of them, who all pounced on the water, eager to try it. Shouto gave them more until the package was empty, apologizing softly to them when everything was gone. 

They were simple. They had gotten their treat, seemed to know that it was gone, and took various paths elsewhere to find another snack for the evening, quacking all the way, save for one, who eyed Shouto accusingly with a tilted head, causing Shouto to laugh, a short huff, as he had saved one piece for himself, but he bit it in half and tossed the last piece into the water. He was about to tell the duck that it was really gone now, but Midoriya spoke first. 

“I love you.” 

There was a quack, but it wasn’t in response to him. The last duck dutifully swam away. Shouto didn’t stand from where he was perched. 

He said, “it’s been awhile since you told me that.”

Shouto glanced over his shoulder to watch Midoriya’s brows furrow and his mouth open and close. 

“You remember when we first moved in together, and you thought you were going to die because you caught that cold? You first told me that then when I brought you some water and medicine to attempt to break your fever. I thought you must have thought I was someone else, but then a month or so later, you ended up in the hospital, and when you were awake between surgeries you said, ‘I love you Shouto-kun.’ It happened more after that until you stopped getting heinously injured, which I’m grateful for. I can’t stand hospitals.”

Midoriya’s hands were in his pockets. He was keeping himself brave. He said, “you never said anything.”

Shouto shrugged, “friends can tell each other they love them. Uraraka and the girls explained it to me once when I was at a sleepover with them, and I didn’t want to embarrass you since you say a lot of silly things in your sleep, or are concussed, or are otherwise not operating in your full capacity. I didn’t want to take advantage of your feelings.” 

Midoriya sat down on the bench. He stared across the pond. He stared at his hands. He fiddled with them, rubbing his scar. The weather wasn’t too cool, yet, but Shouto wondered if it was bothering him.

“And what if I said, it wasn’t because you were my friend?” 

Shouto refused to do anything more than take in a quiet, deep breath, waiting to hear more. Midoriya provided it. 

“You know how a few weeks ago you told me that one day I was going to find someone who made me happier than I’d ever thought possible? So impossibly whole that I would never find the strength not to look away? I realized I’ve known that person for a while now. Figured it out awhile ago too. I don’t remember exactly when. It might have been when we were still in school. But it could have been just afterward. I just sort of woke up and knew one day that this was it. There would be no one else for me, save you. 

“Shouto, I love you .” 

Shouto had to lean back away from the water, so he didn’t fall in. It wouldn’t be a dangerous fall. He’d just get wet and ruin the pants he was wearing, but it would be embarrassing, and he was already feeling the shadow of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. 

He had hoped, wished, and wondered, but he didn’t think that meant he would have ever been prepared to hear it said to him out loud. 

“You love me?”

“More and more each day.”

And wow. Maybe he should take a dive into the pond just to know if this was real or not. At least his arm decided to drop in temperature at the steady rapid pace of his heart, which certainly felt real, pressed right below his skin, threatening to rupture. 

Midoriya was not done. 

“You’re incredibly hard not to love. Everyday you simply exist, going about your day, doing things for others, doing things for me that you don’t even think about; it’s just inherent to be kind, to help others. You’re always there for me. No matter how small or unimportant it may seem. You try to make it better. When we’re apart, it hurts, and when we’re together, I’m more happy than I ever thought I could be. I know you think that you wouldn’t be where you are without me here, but I know the same would be true if I never met you too. You save me day by day. Each day I get to be me, in our home, out and about, wherever, and you don’t want anything more from me in return. It’s incredibly freeing in a way.”

Shouto failed to offer words now that would comfort Midoriya or help him further, as he fell silent, furrowing his brows. Shouto was too busy getting lost in the cacophony of what Midoriya was saying, what he had said. He loved him. He loved him, Shouto. To be loved by someone as incredible as Midoriya Izuku, was something he hardly ever dared to imagine. If it was friendship, he was satisfied with what was. He could exist like that and continue to exist as that. But Midoriya wasn’t speaking of friendship, not anymore, he was speaking to Shouto’s quiet love, which he had largely thought went ignored and giving voice to his own reciprocated feelings. 

Midoriya loved him.

Midoriya’s next words mirrored Shouto’s own thoughts and previous resolve. “I told myself that I was happy with what we had. I could live with the way things were and just be your friend. I’ve never wanted anything more from you than what you were willing to give, and I still don’t, but I’m not so scared anymore about what hearing those words will mean to you. I’m not sure why I ever was.”

Midoriya and being scared didn’t quite make sense in Shouto’s head. Midoriya always acted on feelings, on gut instinct. He charged in and got things done. But he was afraid of Shouto? It almost poisoned the whole thing. But it wasn’t the type of fear Shouto grew up with. It wasn’t cowering in a closet, hoping not to be found, or the vacant expressions on his siblings' faces if he happened to see them. Midoriya’s fear was a reflection of himself, Midoriya's own self-worth, against his wants and wishes. Midoriya said it himself, he wasn’t sure why he hesitated, only he wasn’t hesitating now. He had said it out loud for Shouto to hear and react accordingly. 

“What changed?” 

It wasn’t the most pressing question here nor was it actually the thing Shouto wanted to say to Midoriya immediately after hearing such a confession. But it unglued Shouto’s throat enough that he could attempt to follow up with more important things the longer Midoriya spoke. 

Midoriya said, “you’re going to think it’s stupid, because it is mostly stupid, and I’m dumb and easily confrontational about things that matter to me the most, though I think out of all the pig-headed things I’ve done this really up there. I just,” Midoriya took a deep breath, which was good. Shouto was about to ask him to stop and then maybe finish their walk. They could have this conversation another time if it saved Midoriya from spiraling into a panic attack. But Midoriya had caught himself.

“A couple of months ago Takeda, from admin, and you went out for lunch to talk about grants or something, and I know it was purely business and that if I asked you tomorrow to go and fetch him for a meeting, you’d have to take me with you because you’re terrible with names and faces. Only, it was a slow day. No real crime to report on. No upcoming events to speculate about. Hell, I’m pretty sure Ochako sent me an article about someone finding an opossum in their apartment and moving out because of it—that slow of a news day, so of course, when the media got their hands on some rather tame photos of you two, they ran with it. 

“Normally, I don’t care all that much, outwardly, I suppose. Ochako would say differently, but she exaggerates. Anyways, the next day, I was in a meeting, and I had to get some water, and because of that I overheard Takeda, talking, bragging, to his coworkers around the water cooler about how great you were to take out, how he got to do anything he wanted to you, and that.” 

Midoriya sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Shouto very rarely saw Midoriya get so worked up over something that wasn’t a villain threatening countless lives. He was mad, angry even, at only recounting what this Takeda person had spoken of him after the fact. If Shouto was there, he probably wouldn’t have even realized they were talking about him and only questioned their silence once he got up to the cooler and everyone was staring at him. He would have greeted them all accordingly and then gone back to his meeting or office none the wiser. 

“It wasn’t inherently anything bad, but he was lying and implying things about you that just frustrated me to no end. But I knew if I said anything or intervened it would have just come across as me being the miffed jealous roommate that was unhappy it wasn’t his turn. Takeda was already getting too much mileage over it already, so I just walked away and seethed quietly over the fact that this useless man wasn’t the only one who embellished being with you in order to make themselves seem more important than they were, so they can get further in this business by simply knowing a popular hero. 

“And I wish, more than anything, that fame wasn’t apart of our jobs, that I could cut it out entirely and let us just help save people like we get paid to do, but I can’t change that overnight, only keep supporting narratives that focus on us being heroes than those that care more about our personal life.”

Midoriya picked at a spot in his pants. He was still sort of tense. He still had a lot to say. Shouto had no words himself to think to interrupt.

“On my birthday, Ochako joked that people were going to take a photo of you and Tenya and take it out of context, and I sort of exploded. Not even for a good reason. We all know who Iida actually likes, and just, you’ve never seemed all that interested in dating anyone, so it’s not like I had any space to get upset about it. Even if you did have the gayest massive crush on Tenya, it wouldn’t be my place to get mad. Just, it was the culmination of everything, and I ended up ranting to her far more than sober me probably would have. And Ochako means well most of the time. She doesn’t want any of us to be hurt, and I know it bothers her to know that I’m still holding back, was holding back, so she claimed that the easiest solution to solve the issue would be for me to simply ask you out, so that people would stop speculating about you, about me, about all of it.”

Midoriya sighed, “and we shook on it. But then, I started to worry that you would only think that I wanted to date you because of the press—or another awful bet—and not because it was what I wanted to do. Or worse, that you would agree with me regardless of your own feelings because you always put me first, no matter what, and I just, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to put us in that place. I wanted to date you on my own terms. I wanted you to date me because you loved me. But also the very idea of another Takeda or whomever coming into your office and asking for paperclips because they knew it got people talking angered me so much that I couldn’t just do nothing, so I, umm, I think you know the rest. I figured, at the very least, I could wow you so much by being your temporary fake boyfriend, that when the day came you wouldn’t think to look anywhere else, and want me as your real one, as much as I wanted you to be mine.”

At that Midoriya fell silent, keeping most of his attention on his lap. Impossibly small. 

“Well it worked,” were not the first additional words Shouto wanted out of his mouth, but alas, so it seemed his mouth was not working in full cooperation with him today. “You had an unfair advantage, as I’ve wanted to date you since we were second years, but I mean, I still do, so I suppose you didn’t worsen your prospects. If anything, you made them better.”

While Shouto’s statement wasn’t as poignant as Midoriya’s whole truth, Shouto thought it was a tad unfair Midoriya’s head snapped up when he looked over at him. 

“Shouto-kun, I lied and took advantage of you for the latter half of the summer.”

“I did too.” Shouto tilted his head. Midoriya already implied he knew Shouto's feeling on the matter, he didn’t know where the confusion lay now. “You don’t actually think I would have been anyone’s fake boyfriend, right?”

“You let me get away with too much!”

That might have been true but that was only because he knew Midoriya’s intentions were never with malice or ill intent. No matter what, he always put Shouto’s feelings into account before he did anything. If Midoriya truly had thought Shouto would have been hurt by this, he wouldn’t have seen it to full fruition. Perhaps subconsciously, he had known the truth of both of their intents without actually realizing it fully until now. 

“I think,” Shouto started, “that we’re both a little stupid, but I am able to look passed your stupidity if you can look past mine. It doesn’t matter how we got here, only that we’re here now, and I would like you to say it again.” 

Midoriya had since loosened a bit. He wasn’t so closed in on himself, tightly wound around his core. His legs were spread, open to hearing what Shouto had to say, still seated at the pond, but for not much longer if Shouto was right in suspecting where things might go from here. 

Midoriya asked, “what? The whole thing? Was it not embarrassing enough for me to say it the first time? I freaked out because a rather attractive man lied to a bunch of people and said you spent the night with him when I knew you really spent it with me . I had you in my lap as we watched old reruns of a cartoon and fed each other overly salted popcorn.”

“I was hoping just for another ‘I love you,’ but if you would rather talk about your latent possessiveness and jealousy issues, I can be an impartial third party as well. My therapist says it’s important that I attempt to listen deeply to others.” 

“And me and my therapist are already working on that,” Midoriya said.

“Okay, good,” Shouto said, even though a small, prideful part of him enjoyed the idea of Midoriya announcing to a room that Shouto’s was his, and no one else's. A part of him even liked the idea of Midoriya going down to admin and chewing whoever this man was out for lying and then reiterating that Shouto was his boyfriend. His love. Shouto wasn’t sure if any of that would help the situation at hand, though, and he still needed to verbalize to Midoriya that he wasn’t alone in feeling this way. 

“But, just so you know, you’re the only person that I have ever loved and will ever love. You’re it for me. As friends or as something more. I love you, Midoriya Izuku.” 

Now, Midoriya had said it several times now, and perhaps Shouto had already become greedy, asking for him to say it again before Shouto had even said it out loud once. He had grown too comfortable in saying it without words. The, I love you, when he warmed Midoriya’s coffee back up when he got called out to service before he finished it. The, I love you, when he noticed Midoriya wasn’t all the way tucked in, and he didn’t want him to wake up in the middle of the night cold. The, I love you, when he came home, and Shouto had no need for other cluttered words when it was much more important that he stay strong, so Midoriya could break down and cry in the safety of their home and Shouto's arms because beyond its threshold it was unsafe and cruel. Shouto had learned from a young age that speaking such words out loud was dangerous. It could hurt him. But loving Midoriya wasn’t pain. It wasn’t fear. There was no risk in it, just gentle reciprocity. 

Shouto loved Midoriya. 

Midoriya loved Shouto. 

So he said it again, “I love you,” and Midoriya seemed to come completely undone, slackened, almost, as if he hadn’t prepared himself to come this far. Midoriya must have known by now but sometimes words were just as important. Midoriya couldn’t have saved Shouto with just actions alone back then. It was bolstered with words. Proven true by both. 

“I love you,” Shouto said again. 

He quite liked the feel of them in his mouth. How they rolled on and off his tongue. Like he was meant to say them. He was. With this much depth and feeling, to Midoriya only. 

“I love you.” 

And with each time, Midoriya’s rather careful expression, cracked further, betraying him more. He would cry soon, Shouto could tell, his left eye kept twitching as if he wanted to blink to hold them back, but he didn’t want to look away from Shouto either. 

How many times had Midoriya done that? Forsake his own comfortableness just to see Shouto?

Midoriya was also growing red, unusually paired with unwavering silence. It was so often to see Midoriya attempt to cover up his flustered-ness with words that only made him more anxious until someone else relieved him. It was completely other to see him for a loss of words completely. Shocked still, yet reacting—the tremble in his hands, the small twitches in his mouth, the brightness of his eyes—each time Shouto said it. 

“I love you.”

Shouto thought it was possible he could grow to become a monster with this power alone. What froze their admirable number one? A measly few words. 

Shouto abandoned the pond. The edges of his shoes were muddy. He didn’t care. He’d do it all over again if he could. If it got him here and now, no questions asked. There wasn’t that much distance between them. There never really was. Long had they become accustomed to always gravitating back to each other. It was so obvious now with hindsight how long they could have had this but didn’t. Though, it was equally obvious how much they already had of each other despite their silence on the matter. Shouto might have given Midoriya too much, but Shouto gave Midoriya too much credit too. If it was inevitable, then Shouto was happy they got to grow as they had before bridging whatever minuscule gap existed now. 

He cupped Midoriya’s cheek along his jaw. The skin was not smooth there, rough with both faint scars and the only evidence that Midoriya could grow facial hair but shaved it off before it came of anything. Shouto tilted Midoriya’s head up, so he was looking at him, finding that Midoriya already was. 

“Midoriya.” Shouto paused. He tried again, “Izuku, I love you.” 

It was what finally did Izuku in. He was smiling, oh how, he was smiling, but he didn’t fight his tears anymore. They were large and rolled down ruddy cheeks to get lost in Shouto’s hand or down the side of his neck and face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that, love.”

Shouto's quiet bravado slipped then, just barely.

Love? Love. Izuku’s love: Shouto. 

Of course, at Shouto’s lapse of sheer bewilderment that the phrase was still true—stronger now that they both knew—Izuku took advantage of it. His hand found Shouto's, pressing a kiss to his wrist before he was moving them both. It was Shouto's turn to be at the bench, laying across it with his head pillowed by Izuku's hand, everything else fading to nothingness. There was only Izuku above. Eyes still watery, but happy. Shouto didn't think he had ever seen Izuku smile so wide.

“I love you,” Izuku said.

Shouto knew he would never get enough of hearing it. Knew he was just as wide-eyed and shocked to hear it now as he was before in realizing how deeply Izuku meant it and how Izuku himself reacted to Shouto saying it. Shouto found himself mouthing the words along with Izuku. He could picture them like this for hours, until dawn, repeating it over and over, neither of them falling tired, purely existing as they were. 

He figured Izuku knew this too because his follow-up was just as silent as Shouto’s prior, breathed against Shouto’s mouth, so Shouto could feel it before they were kissing, taking any and all love you’s Shouto or Izuku could provide. While they had kissed before, plenty before now, it was different than any other time. Shouto didn’t feel as though he needed to treasure it as they were rushing to an end that left him with nothing but memories. He knew he could cherish it because there was more to come. It would never end. 

Izuku was over top of him, on him, obscuring his senses to nothing else but him. The way his hand curled into Shouto’s hair, his nails pinching where they dug in to try and get Shouto ever closer. How sometimes Shouto could feel tears on his cheeks as Izuku's emotions bubbled over, though Shouto didn't care, and Izuku didn't try to hid them. How specifically sweet Izuku smelled, especially when his hair tickled Shouto’s forehead whenever Izuku pulled back but wasn't satisfied where he had left off, joining them once more.

Shouto knew he had a lifetime more after this to explore and rediscover everything that came along with loving Izuku now. That there would be nothing that could ever disrupt this euphoria of being loved and in love here and now.

Shouto woke to a wash of bright sunlight from the open curtains they had stumbled through the night prior. Reasonably, they could have walked through the door, but they had both been a tad delirious, exploratory and bold, to think anything through like they should have, and Izuku had asked him if he wanted to fly, and Shouto did not need to tell him that he already could because it was just as well that they not part for any brief period of time.

Shouto reached for the clock, next to Izuku’s bed, switching off his alarm that was mere minutes away. He didn’t remember Izuku setting it, but it was a very Izuku thing to do despite all that transpired that led Shouto to stay in his bed—Izuku had insisted when they were done, that he was still worried about Shouto waking up. Shouto hadn’t slept this well in his life, probably. 

Carefully, as to not disrupt the covers and the mattress below him, he rolled back over so that he could see who exactly had their arm lazily over his waist to make sure completely that Shouto would not go. As if Shouto would. As if Shouto needed a reminder of all that had transpired to lead him to this point. Izuku’s face was pressed into his pillow. The golden light was kind to him, not bright enough to wake him, yet strong enough to give him a healthy glow. 

An unreasonable part of Shouto thought mine. The after-effects of the previous night's joy drowned out all concerns about how that couldn’t completely be the case. For all the people's hero Izuku was, only Shouto got this. Shouto pushed a stray curl around Izuku's ear, trailing his thumb along the freckles on his cheek, watching as Izuku’s nose scrunched, brows furrowed, and he mumbled incoherently in his sleep before pressing his face further into the pillow. 

Very rarely was Izuku ever hard to get up. Very rarely did Shouto ever wish to wake him, knowing a few minutes now, could help the minutes lost later. But Shouto might have been selfish, now, too. A little excited. Today was the first day of the rest of their lives. A new chapter to begin. While, because their own embarrassment, he thought it likely they would never truly tell anyone when they actually started dating, this moment was still important. Monumental.

“Izuku,” he tried. Shouto had been right to be hesitant to try it before. Now that he had said it, he could never go back. “Izuku.” 

Izuku’s nose scrunched further. His eyes moved behind his lids. He leaned into Shouto’s touch and away from his pillow. Sleeping Izuku had always been adorable. It was twice as true now as his eyes fluttered open, but it took him a moment to actually see what lay in front of him. Not that Shouto gave him a lot of time, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth before saying, “Good morning, Izuku.”

At that, Izuku’s smile lazily stretched over his face, as he whispered, voice morning hoarse, “good morning, love.”

Shouto knew he could get used to waking up like this, whenever they could, given their schedules and lives. 

“It’s time to get up.” 

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, pressing back into the pillow as Shouto continued to run his hand through his hair. He said, “what if I rather, we spend the whole day in bed?” 

Shouto had to fight himself real hard to not give in to the temptation outright. A day in bed with Izuku sounded marvelous. Only Shouto might have been a tad overzealous, a bit cheesy, and had one too many dreams about a hundred and one different dates they could go on to celebrate their first day together, none of which they had to do, it would already be special but spoke to his excitement on the matter. 

“You would get bored after five minutes,” Shouto said.

Izuku hummed, pushing himself and putting his weight on his arm so that he was looking down on Shouto, who had to drop his own hand. Midoriya pushed his hair out his face. The shirt he had thrown on the previous night, was obnoxiously two sizes too small. With the blankets spilling down him, Shouto could see how it had ridden up in the night.  

Izuku said, “I think I could find one or two good ways to entertain myself, love.”

Shouto knew his heart wanted to get stuck in his throat somewhere as it threatened to implode. Knew his quirk wanted to react, catch light, and blister orange against Izuku’s cover. Knew that it was ridiculous, after everything, that Izuku’s stupid little endearment still worked to fluster him so.

However, Shouto wasn’t completely helpless to him. Izuku claimed he wanted Shouto to say no to him more. There was no time like the present to start. 

“Yeah, alone, maybe. We might be boyfriends now, but I won’t stop you from whatever you and your hand get up to.

“Shouto!” It worked like a charm. Temporary suave Izuku was replaced with dorky aghast Izuku, who couldn’t hold himself up, falling straight into the mass of pillows beside Shouto to scream. He might have said that Shouto would kill him one day, but Shouto was certain that if it ever got that far, he’d be sure to save him from perishing. At the cost of one or two jokes, however. 

Shouto pulled himself up, rolling out of the bed in the opposite direction and padding around the room, stealing a shirt off the floor, and walking back to Izuku’s side to poke at his back and convince him to get up fully. He only succeeded in getting Izuku to turn his head to look up at him. If he was trying to glare, he was doing an awful job at it. Shouto didn’t even whither. Shouto rolled his eyes, backing up and deciding the next best option to urge his boyfriend out of bed would be food and frying up whatever meat they had in the fridge.

“Hey, wait,” Izuku said before Shouto even took a step back to complete his plan. “Just, let me look at you like this.”

Shouto had zero qualms about continuing to stare at Izuku more, though he had no idea what Izuku found fascinating about staring at him. Ruffled, morning Shouto always looked as though he needed to be in bed an extra five years. Not to mention he wasn't even wearing pants. But whatever Izuku saw, he must have liked because his next words were. 

“Love looks good on you.” 

Shouto refused to blush, and he failed. He did fail. But he refused to concede, advancing back on Izuku and toppling over him with no real goal in mind, save for wrestling him for daring to something that was decidedly too much for the hour of the day. Below him Izuku laughed opened and care free.

"I won!" Izuku declared, getting his hands around Shouto's waist and then up his back to pull Shouto down on top of him. 

Shouto tried to be angrier than he was but found that it didn’t matter much, as he couldn’t remember a time when Izuku laughed so freely before, and if it was at Shouto’s behest, then so be it. Shouto could laugh too. Izuku booped his nosed when Shouto pouted, and Shouto narrowed his eyes at him.

"You know I bed random guy in financing—or admin was it?—wouldn't refuse my reasonable request to get up today," Shouto pointed out. 

It immediately sobered Izuku up. It was his turn to narrow his eyes, again, doing nothing for Shouto to actually fear him. Shouto might have to take a moment to really think about why it was that he enjoyed seeing Izuku get jealous like this on his behalf. It probably wasn't good. Then again, they both knew that the other didn't look anywhere else but at each other. There had only ever been Izuku, and there would only ever be Izuku. 

However, Shouto wanted to do things. He wanted to hold hands and trade kisses and be disgustingly cute out in public so that no one would think otherwise ever again. They could come back to bed later and fulfill Izuku's plans for the day. 

"I wouldn't have to tempt them with the swim shorts I got from my team the other day that I was planning on wearing to the beach today." 

Whatever dark emotion Izuku had over being reminded about the other guy, was quickly forgotten as Izuku sat up with Shouto still in his lap. He asked, "the blue ones? That barely come down mid-thigh?"

Shouto nodded—half nodded—as that was all Izuku needed to hear to get his arm under Shouto's leg before swinging his own legs out of bed. Shouto had only enough time to wrap his arms around his back to clutch onto him in Izuku's haste—Izuku really didn't know his own strength or speed sometimes—but he laughed regardless as Izuku made it his mission to see them to the kitchen for breakfast now, asking quickly what it was Shouto wanted to eat, or if he wanted to shower first, or if they should just throw on some clothes now and head out the door to go wherever the day lead them.

Ultimately, Shouto didn't care what came of their future day—their tomorrows—as long as they stayed like this: together.