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“Good!” Mirio beamed as Tamaki slid the paper towards him. He had completed the study sheet quicker than anyone else, and Mirio knew all those answers would be correct.
“This is great, Tama.”
“Th-thanks,” his best friend swallowed, pressing his palms down to his desk. A blush was rising on his cheeks. Hm, Mirio thought, that was curious. What was embarrassing about being praised?
But he filed it away in his mind and went about things.
Later that afternoon, in combat training, he watched in awe as Tamaki’s arm began a tentacle, grabbing their opponent from the air before anyone could think. He turned to his friend, beaming as he always did.
“That was amazing!” he ran over to him, clapping him hard on the back. Tamaki only made a groaning sound, looking away, his lips screwed up. Maybe, Mirio thought, it was simply that no one told Tamaki how wonderful he was. Probably he just needed to hear it more.
It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to study together, typically in Tamaki’s room. He had some of the most comfortable beanbag chairs that Mirio had ever known. But since it was so close to graduation, the two of them really liked to sit around and dream about what the future would hold for them.
They knew that they wanted to go to an agency together. Perhaps Nighteye would take them both? It would be hard for Mirio to leave his mentor. Then again, it would be hard for Tamaki to leave Fatgum. Especially when he felt like he had just gotten to know the ins and outs of working for the man.
Maybe they should make their own agency? After all, they best knew their own strengths. And it wouldn’t be long until Kirishima graduated…
“You always have the best ideas.” Mirio sighed. “You’re so smart, Tama.”
“Stop,” he said softly, his cheeks going pink again. Mirio frowned, tilting his head to the side.
“Why do you look so uncomfortable whenever anyone compliments you? I know you’re shy, but part of being a hero means people are going to compliment you.”
“That’s not exactly it.” he mumbled. Mirio looked confused.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted. Tamaki took in several deep breaths, looking everywhere but at his friend. Several strands of his hair had fallen in his eyes. Mirio reached out and brushed them back. He jumped when Tamaki’s hands flew up, gripping his wrist.
“What–?”
“It isn’t… I don’t… I don’t care when everyone else compliments me! Just you!” he managed, his face on fire.
“And it isn’t compliments, it’s something else.”
“What?” Mirio asked, stunned.
“You praise me.” he looked so ashamed, his lips quivering. “You praise me, and it does something to me. Every time you look at me with your eyes so big and bright, and tell me all the things that I’ve done well. It makes me–.”
“Makes you what?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.” Tamaki let his cheek rest in Mirio’s palm, nuzzling at it. This was new, the blond thought. But it wasn’t unwanted or unpleasant. He felt the warmth of his friend’s face, the silky smoothness of his skin. They sat there together for a few moments in quiet. It was never a good idea to rush, Tama, he’d get there when he was ready.
“I like you, Mirio.” he finally said.
“Well thanks, I like you too!” he beamed.
“No, that’s not… Mirio….” he groaned. “I like you-like you.”
“Oh!” Mirio laughed. Tamaki yanked himself away and threw himself face down into the beanbag chair.
“No, don’t do that,” he said, reaching for the other boy. “It just took me by surprise.”
“You’re only saying that because you pity me.” he accused, his voice muffled.
“Not even a little bit.” he shook his head. “Come here, Tamaki.” Tamaki lifted his head and glanced over. He scooted close to Mirio again.
“Good job.” that blush came back, and Mirio thought he felt a lightbulb flicking on in his head. “You’re so brave for telling me that.”
“Mirio,” he breathed.
“I know that was so hard for you. And you did it!” he took a deep breath himself. “I like you, Tamaki. I was never going to say anything, because I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn’t want to be friends with me anymore. Even if you didn’t–didn’t like me, I still wanted you in my life.”
“You shouldn’t have been afraid.” Tamaki shook his head. “Besides, who could ever say no to you, Mirio?”
Mirio shrugged. He could not verbalize his self doubts any better than Tamaki could. The two of them sat together for a few minutes, absorbing what had been said.
“What now?”
“Anything you want.” Mirio shrugged. “Do you wanna… date, or whatever?” he felt silly asking, but there was very little else he could think of. Tamaki nodded, then buried his face in his hands.
“Don’t,” Mirio said softly. “There’s nothing to hide about.”
The hands came down slowly, and they locked eyes again. Mirio was certain his heart was going to leap out of his chest.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” he shook his head. He took Tamaki’s hands again, gave them a squeeze. The other boy gasped.
“You’re doing so well. But you never answered my question. Do you only like when I say nice things because you like me?”
“In a sense,” Tamaki hedged, clearing his throat. “It makes me feel–something.”
“Something?” he was clearly confused. Tamaki groaned and looked up at the ceiling. Clearly he was unable to elaborate.
“Oh! I get it! It turns you on!” Mirio chuckled.
“Don’t say it like that,” he begged.
“Oh? Why not?” an eyebrow raised. “Does that embarrass you? To know that nice words from me make you feel some kind of way? Hm?”
“Yes,” he squeaked.
“So very brave to tell me.” Mirio was leaning so close to him. He could feel Mirio’s breath blowing against his lips. Tamaki gave the tiniest whimper, his mouth opening. Mirio’s fingers skated down his cheek, and he leaned into the touch, chasing the sensation.
“You’re so good for me.”
“Good for Mirio,” he repeated dully.
“And we’ll see where that goodness leads you another day!” he said brightly. “But it’s almost time for lights out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”