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It smells like funnel cake.
The whole fair grounds do. Or maybe it’s some other amalgamation of fried dough and candy and sugar- Shoto doesn’t know what it is exactly, but it’s making him want funnel cake.
He turns around to grab Hanta’s sleeve and tell him so, but Hanta is suddenly not where he was a moment ago. Shoto turns in a full circle, scanning the lines for the rides and games before spotting him lingering near a food truck.
Shoto ducks his head and smiles before trekking over the beaten-down grass to meet him. Great minds think alike, and all that.
It’s their first date- or at least, Shoto thinks it is. He really hopes it is. It certainly feels like a date, just the two of them sneaking off to a carnival even though it’s something they’d usually do with their friends. And Hanta keeps holding his hand…
Yes, he supposes, it wouldn’t make much sense if this were anything but a date. They’ve been getting a lot closer recently, and Shoto likes Hanta so much. He likes his smile, the way he laughs with his whole body, the way he never lets anyone feel left out when he’s around.
And he likes when they train together, and the bottom of his shirt rises up enough to show his hip bones, when he’s sweaty and panting, complaining even when he wins.
Shoto liked how shy and hopeful Hanta had looked when he’d asked him to come out tonight, and how excited he’d been when Shoto had said, ‘yes, I’d love to.’
“Whaddya want, Sho? They have strawberry lemonade,” Hanta asks when Shoto falls in line next to him. Shoto knows he’s going to insist on paying, because it makes Hanta feel good to spoil people. Shoto’s planning on letting him tonight.
“Do they have funnel cake?” Shoto asks, giving in to his craving easily. “And the strawberry lemonade sounds tasty.”
“Whatever you want,” Hanta smiles, and goes to put in their order.
Shoto waits at a picnic table for a moment before Hanta comes back to him, holding two large strawberry lemonades and one very large funnel cake, topped with powdered sugar and strawberries.
“Mind if we share?” Hanta asks, plopping right next to him on the picnic bench, completely ignoring the open space across from him. “Also, they only had spoons… so I guess we’re eating it with our hands.”
“I think it’s meant to be eaten that way, is it not? People in movies always eat it with their hands,” Shoto asks, wasting no time digging in. It’s warm and soft and sweet and tastes exactly like the air around them. “I’ve never been to a carnival though, so I suppose you’re the expert.”
Hanta laughs, “Dude, I’ve never been to a carnival, either. Some fairs and festivals, sure, but never like this. Never with the rides and stuff.”
“So how’d you know it would be fun? What if we got here and we both hated it?” Shoto can’t help but ask, tilting his head to the side.
“Shoto. I have never once had a bad time with you. The whole place could catch on fire, and I’d still have a nice time saving everyone’s asses with you,” Hanta laughs, and it’s all just so easy with him.
Shoto gives in to the impulse to reach up and give Hanta a swift kiss on the cheek- he’s wanted to do that probably for weeks now, but the impulse was stronger tonight. Hanta’s pink cheeks are well worth it.
“Man,” Hanta muses, his smile soft around the edges, “if first-year Hanta could see us right now, he’d lose his mind.”
“First-year? Really?” Shoto can’t keep from asking, a bit disbelieving. Hanta blushes, but nods without hesitation.
“I’ve liked you for a while , man. Since the first sports festival where you kicked my ass without even trying,” Hanta laughs. He’s so bright, and Shoto can’t even begin to understand what he sees in him, let alone for this long.
“I’ve liked you for a while, too,” Shoto feels compelled to share. “Since the first week we moved into the dorms and you let me borrow the first volume of Fruits Basket , and didn’t even judge me for crying about it when I got to the sad parts.”
“Dude, anyone who doesn’t cry about Fruits Basket is a monster,” Hanta exclaims, quick to defend Shoto even over something as trivial as this.
Hanta grabs his hand before they keep walking, meandering aimlessly through the fairgrounds, both still blushing and pretending they aren’t. Shoto doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but he’s happy. And Hanta’s happy too, if the little humming under his breath and the little smiles he keeps sending his way are anything to judge by.
“Wanna ride that?” Hanta suddenly asks, pointing ahead of them to the ferris wheel. Shoto eyes it a bit distrustingly, but then supposes that even if the rickety thing does fall to the ground, that, between their quirks together, they’d probably be fine.
“Only if you promise to catch me if we fall,” he answers, risking a flirty smile (at least, he thinks it’s flirty- he’s never done this before).
The line is short (Shoto attributes this to the concrete slabs shoddily holding the thing in place), and they’re in their cubby before Shoto was fully ready for it. It would be incredulous for him to have a fear of heights due to how high he regularly gets with his quirk, but for some reason, he isn’t quite comfortable on this steel death machine- and apparently, it shows on his face.
“Dude, are you gonna hurl?” Hanta asks, barely biting back his laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shoto bites, then realizes he’s gripping his hands together so tightly that curls of steam are starting to spill out around them from his quirk, and he blanches.
The air goes silent for all of two seconds before their eyes meet, and Hanta snorts. Like a wire snapping, a laugh bubbles up from Shoto’s throat and suddenly they’re both doubled over, giggling and guffawing like children.
“D-dude,” Hanta huffs through his laughs, “you should see your face!” He’s clutching his sides, nearly sliding off of his seat, and still managing to point at Shoto and laugh.
Shoto’s face is burning, and no amount of rubbing at his eyes is enough to stop the trickle of tears welling up. He doesn’t think he’s ever laughed this hard in his life, and he can’t seem to stop for long enough to even respond to Hanta.
After genuinely way too long, they start to quiet. Shoto feels crazy- like he’s high or something- and he’s happier than he’s ever been.
“Hanta,” he exhales.
“Yeah, Sho?” Hanta answers, pushing his hair away from his forehead.
When Hanta’s eyes land on him, Shoto surges forward and kisses him, square on the mouth. It’s chaste and maybe a bit clunky, but Hanta still looks starry-eyed when he pulls away.
“We should do this again sometime,” Shoto says. Does he mean the kiss, the carnival, the date? He isn’t sure. All of it, hopefully. He just knows that tonight has been perfect and that he would very much like to do all of this a million more times.
“Literally whenever you want,” Hanta promises. “Just say the word.”