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The shuffling. The busy city finally dying down along with the previous bright sunlight. On days like these you would probably be hanging out with Izuku; going to a cheap, underground restaurant or walking along the park as you guys talk about nothing in specific. Those kinds of conversations that let you know little things about a person; like how Izuku only likes some kinds of sweets, those that won’t cloy his taste buds, or the way that when he’s with you he’s suddenly able to enjoy any and all kinds of sweets.
Things are easy and peaceful in his presence.
But not tonight. Because Japan needs their hero, and who are you to deny them of the safety he promises everyone? And you are okay with it. You are. You don’t sulk over the fact that your schedules as a couple are more unstable than others, and you don’t look back at your phone every 2 minutes, and you don’t wear his cologne when he’s not near; because that’s not like you, and there are still responsibilities that call your name like a siren near a ship. At some point you realize that finally doing your homework papers might be a better idea than just yearning a certain someone’s touch, or the way they say your name.
You don’t notice the subtle green lighting by the curtains, or soft knocks on your window balcony, but you perk up when your name is murmured on that tantalizing voice that you so desperately needed to hear. You quickly get up from your cozy layout on the couch, fumbling over blankets and struggling to put down the now cold cup of coffee you had to keep you awake. You stumble your way to the curtains, almost slipping on the process, and hurriedly open them, as if he’d disappear if you weren’t fast enough.
“Hi” Izuku says breathlessly, eyes shinning and shoulders slumping with a sigh as he stares at you, lovingly. Most of his hair pulled back by what you guess was the wind.
“Hello” You breathe out as well “I thought… you’d be back later, I was just…” You trail off as you see him standing in front of you, puppy eyed, then you quickly realize how cold it was outside. his face had faint marks of dirt, but none of that mattered, because he was here now, in front of you, solid, and warm despite the harsh temperatures, and real. He was here. With you.
“hmm?” he hums as a question to your silence
“Oh shit—sorry, come in Izuku, it’s freezing outside” You say, apologetically, stepping aside so he can come inside your apartment.
“Oh no I’m okay, I have to leave in a bit, I just came here since we were close around, so I thought I’d slip on by” He lies, he was half way the other side of the city, but he saw an opening to slip by as his break started and Kacchan’s argument with Kirishima kept getting flared up. He thought maybe, just for a second, he could come back to you, and maybe for a second, things could be normal again. His place of return. “But— I guess I can stay for a bit” he says as he starts taking his shoes off by the balcony’s door.
“I’ll get you some water, and a cloth to clean your face” You state thoughtfully. "Please, let me take care of you” You say softly, almost too softly. Izuku’s eyes water slightly, but unfortunately, it’s not on your line of sight, and Izuku is grateful, it was never like him to worry people he cared about.
As he finishes taking off his shoes and steps into the apartment and he finally faces you, no glass in between. Just you.
“I missed you” He says, longingly, getting closer to you, taking you in with those curious eyes of his
“You saw me two days ago” you laugh lowly, borderline teasing him
“Days are long without you” he answers quickly, you hum
“hmm, I wonder how Japan will react when they find out their number one hero is a needy little princess” you continue to tease him as his eyebrows furrow slightly with a pout and his face starts to faintly color pink. “I missed you too” You say at last, showing that matching craving emotion. “I missed you.”
You don’t know when it happens but you’re suddenly embraced by his strong arms, by his warmth, soaking in his affection like plants under the sun. He buries his face on you neck, reaching for that comfort, that softness that only you can provide him with, squeezing you as if you were his lifeline, his hope, his light. His little light.
You’re the first one to pull away, and he leans into you slightly as you do so.
“Here, you can sit on my couch while I get the cloth and the tea” You direct him to the couch and he follows like a puppy.You push him by his shoulder to sit down “Your legs must be tired from all that walking and running, I’m sure patrols must be exhausting” You don’t give him a chance to answer. Not that he would, if you say it must be tiring for him he’ll get tired on demand, which is probably a stretch, but Izuku loves that way, going further than far is not unlike him, entertaining you might be one of his favorite past times, even if he succumbs to be the victim of your teasing from time to time; deep down he likes it, deep down he wants to be the topic of your conversations, of your teasing, of your thoughts, and he desperately hopes that he can mean to you at least a fraction of what you mean to him.
And you do, of course you do.
He waits on your couch, closing his eyes and breathing in your apartment air, listening to the quiet noises of the TV. It’s comfortable here, he thinks, it’s a place where he can truly let his guard down, where he doesn’t need to *just* be the number one hero, it’s where he can be Izuku, uncensored. He leans back onto his arms followed by his head falling back as he sighs, deeply, letting himself spill in your space.
Similarly to you, he doesn’t notice when you’re back, you just put the warm cup of tea down and he straightens up to look at you, taking all the glances he could get. Burn you into his memory.
“you look pretty under this light” he says mindlessly.
“you look pretty under any light” you counter, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Izuku’s face warms up easily by the comment and the implication of his own.
“A— that’s not what I meant— I mean like I think you’re pretty in every type of light but specially in thi-” he goes off in a rant of course. But you didn’t mind, you could hear him talk for hours. And you have. So long as he’ll have you.
“that’s okay, I didn’t think of it that way, it’s just fun— and well— quite easy to make you flustered” you stop him gently, quietly laughing when he quiets down and looks up at you, standing in front of him, looking down at him. “Close your eyes, I’m going to clean your face, that okay?”
Izuku nods, closes his eyes and faces up to you. You grab the damp towel and bring it up to his face, softly dabbing it over the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. You stand in between his legs, his hands beside him, and you can almost feel how out place he feels, like he doesn’t know what do with his hands.
“It’s okay, you can put your hands on me” You say softly against his face as you continue cleaning it. You feel him quietly panicking before he lands his hands on the sides of your waist, pulling you in slightly. You make an amused noise and he scrunches up his nose in embarrassment. It’s soft, moments like these are soft, like pieces of a puzzle finally fitting in together. Feeling the warmth of his hands beside you cause your face to start heating up too. And it’s soft. Too soft.
You lean further into him. Taking care of his face. Appreciating his features, his slightly furrowed up eyebrows, his freckles, which spread through his face and down to his neck, disappearing in his hero costume, but you know where each one is, and you can point at them with your eyes closed, due to the countless hours of exploring each other’s body. You don’t doubt that he knows yours from head to toe. And he does. He has memorized your body, your face, your mind. You’re imprinted in his brain, having your own place over his heart.
His hands leave your waist, replaced by his solid arms, pulling you in against him, leaving any space or hints of shyness behind. Your chest is now against his collarbone and neck as he places his head above your chest, giving you full access and control to his gentle face. being this close allows you to take him in, his presence, his scent… his scent… this isn’t…
You stop the movement of your hands and Izuku opens his eyes slowly to look up at you, confused.
“you smell—”
“I SMELL?” Izuku says panicked and wide eyed, accidentally interrupting your sentence
“—of my perfume. Are you wearing my perfume?” You continue your sentence, disregarding the fact that he interrupted you, more focused on the fact that he is undoubtedly, wearing your perfume. You look down at him, quirking an eyebrow up.
“I—“ Izuku’s face portrays a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. A deer in headlights. “Are you wearing mine?” and it’s his turn to quirk an eyebrow up.
shit, you curse to yourself. Caught red handed
“you’re—you’re being delusional” You stutter while placing the damp cloth over his eyes, a way for you to escape from his gaze. He always had a way to get to you, even if it wasn’t often him who initiated it.
One of his arms leaves your waist as he takes the cloth off of his face and placing it down by the cup of tea, looking up at you again, almost needy, hungrily searching for any signs of affection in your eyes, searching for his own reflection, and hoping you’d find yours in his eyes too. Just leaving it up to the moment to say the words for you, like if any small disruption would break it like glass.
“I like it better on you” Izuku says smoothly as he places some strands on hair behind you ear. “And I hope… you don’t mind me using yours…?” he asks more hesitantly.
“Of course I don’t” You smile at him, running your hands through his hair, revealing his forehead once again, and planting a soft kiss on it, and pulling back to see him pulling in again. Your hands cup his face, as your thumbs carefully caress his cheeks. “You’re so pretty like this” you lean down to kiss his freckles, one by one, planting kisses all over his face. Then you just stare at him, admiring his features with the comfortable silence between the both of you.
“please— can I please kiss you…?” Izuku asks above a whisper, needily “please?” His other arm stops hugging your waist as it slides up your lower back. He scrunches up his eyebrows and gives you those eyes that you could never deny anything to. He looked like he needed that. He looked like he needed this. He looked like he needed you.
You don’t kiss him, not initially. Seeing him like this is sometimes way more rewarding; the need, the want, the same yearning you had for him. But he’s yours and you’re his. Your thumb ghosts over his lips, appreciating his soft and rough patches all the same, because no matter how cracked or how smooth his lips were, they would still call your name the same way, and they would still feel right against yours.
His hand comes up slowly to grab your wrist, the warmth noticeable to you. His rough hands against your softer skin.
“Please, kiss me” he asks again, this time pleadingly, his lips pouting every so slightly. He craves you. His hand pulling your forearm down, hoping you’ll lean into him. And it’s something you can give him, it’s the only thing you can give him, you think pathetically to yourself. This comfort is something that he, somehow, found in you, and you’d give it to him. You’d give it to him if it was the last thing you would do.
He leans his head up, his whole body trying to reach you, to bring you down to him, and keep you up at the same time. And who are you to deny him of that?
You reach down slightly, until your lips were ghosting his. Your hands cupping his face make the rest of the work until your lips intertwine, familiar to each other. and you linger for split a second longer than you should, so you pull back but Izuku follows your lips, wanting to continue that kiss.
“You gotta go” you say, a hint of sadness painting your voice and your face the same. because you couldn't be selfish. Because Izuku belongs to the people too. And who were you to deny Japan of the safety he promised?
“One more” he whispers back, his breath hot against yours, needing you. And you lean in again, and your lips brush against each other once more, light and fleeting. His hand trembles as he holds onto the sleeve of your shirt, unable to let go. “again” he demands before you even pull away. You can feel the warmth radiating from not only his face but his body as a whole, he was warm, and soft, and malleable. “Last one” he lies. because when he gets up from the couch and towers over you he takes the initiative and leans down to search for your lips once again, softly, slowly. “this— this is the last one—” and he lies again, because your lips draw each other in like magnets as Izuku walks himself backwards to the balcony in order to face you, to capture you for a little longer, keep you in his memory, take you in his pocket. You kiss him one last time as he gets up on the railing, still leaning into you. Then the lies stop.
“I love you” He says like a promise, sparing you that bright, soft smile. Just for you.
“I love you, stay safe” You say, running low on air. Your hair getting caught up in the wind
“I’ll be back. Safe. To you” and his face looks sincere. And for the first time tonight, he pulls away. “Stay safe, bunny” is the last thing he says before you see him take off, onto duty again. And you crawl back to missing him, to missing the way his lips felt against yours. And you realize that 100 times is not enough.
You go back inside, the evidence of Izuku’s small visit was still in the air. Like the way the, now dry, cloth was bundled up on the tea table, or how the couch had a dip just where he was sitting, or the wrinkles on your shirt. And everywhere you looked for him you found his absence. The cold air of the night fluctuates within your apartment, entering and exiting; taking in the cool and lonely, and taking any hints of your lover away from you, the same way he disappeared in the icy night’s air.
There’s an empty feeling in your chest, “he’ll be back” you tell yourself, wanting to reassure yourself the way he does, making you miss him more, wanting him here, selfishly. But Japan needs their hero, and you are you to deny them of the safety he promises?
The cup of tea long forgotten, now cold. You wish it could’ve stayed warm a little longer. Just a little longer.