Work Text:
Shouto is too close. Too fucking close.
It feels weird to think of him like that, but the moron had already decided to make his hero name his personal name so it. Well, it just made sense to swap. And Shouto had already started calling him Katsuki literally the day they started dating since he was so poorly fucking socialized he thought it was normal and like hell was Katsuki going to let Half and Half win-
So yeah. He’s Shouto, and he’s sitting way too fucking close. He hadn’t thought much of them studying together. Most of the time Katsuki studies with Shitty Hair and Pikachu because he doesn’t want those fuckers to fail, but Yaomomo has decided to take them under her wing this test which is great because that gives Katsuki a fucking break. He’s so goddamn tired of dealing with morons like that and something is broken in Yaomomo’s brain, the way she enjoys it.
Studying with Shouto had made fucking sense. Even if his boyfriend (not that he’s ever called him that out LOUD, because saying something like that would make him fucking spontaneously combust way more than usual) is absolute shit at social crap, Shouto actually gets fucking good grades and also knows how to shut up, unlike Deku. Getting Shouto to say stuff is usually the goddamn challenge.
Great, Katsuki had thought. He’ll pass the stupid fucking test, not have to worry about all the morons he usually does, and he’ll get to spend some time with Shouto. Win-win-win.
He’s too fucking close.
If Katsuki hadn’t known that Shouto was not fucking capable of any kind of higher social thought, he would have thought it was planned. No, no, let’s not sit at the table, let’s sit on the sofa. Fucking fine. Oh, I forgot my book, Katsuki, let me look at yours. Hey, what did you think of this question, no don’t hand me your paper let me lean over and look at it and press myself against your side and sit way too fucking close.
“Have you ever heard of the concept of fucking personal space, Half and Half?” Katsuki barks, his old quiz paper crumpling slightly in the death grip of his hand.
Shouto blinks at him, guilelessly. “Yes,” he says. That’s all he fucking says.
“Ever considered putting that knowledge into practice?”
That seems to take Shouto a second more, but he’s still unphased. “I do,” he says. “Do you mean now, with you? I like touching you.”
Katsuki needs. Katsuki needs a fucking minute.
He drops the paper, getting up stiffly and marching straight to the wall so he can press his forehead against it. It’s cool. Thank god. He’d go out to the kitchens to get water or something but there’s probably other people out there and seeing them sounds like hell. His face is absolutely burning.
Maybe he can make Shouto fucking go out there? No, no, the moron would actually open his mouth and explain why Katsuki banished him and he would never ever live it down.
Not beating the moron allegations, Shouto gets up and follows behind Katsuki, though at least he doesn’t touch him this time. “Katsuki?” he asks. Nobody fucking calls him that, nobody but him, and Katsuki can’t help but jerk a bit. “Katsuki?” Shouto asks again, and this time he touches, puts his hand on Katsuki’s arm and turns him and reluctantly, reluctantly, Katsuki lets him.
Katsuki can’t look at him but he can feel Shouto’s gaze and how it fucking burns, as the slow-as-fucking-molasses social brain of his works. “Oh,” says Shouto. “You’re blushing. Why?”
If both of them were not absurdly flammable, Katsuki would burn his whole room down right now. “Why the fuck do you think!?”
Shouto takes the time to consider it. Katsuki manages to look at his face and catches the thoughtful look – god, why can’t he look at him? Pathetic. He braces himself and manages to look straight at him. “Is it because I said I like to touch you?” Shouto asks. How can one of the smartest people in their class look so fucking clueless. “Is that wrong? Don’t you like to touch me?”
Katsuki needs a fucking minute.
He doesn’t pull back and hide this time. He’s not that pathetic. And he fucking knows that Shouto is like this, that he doesn’t have like an embarrassed bone in his entire body, that he says what he wants no matter how weird it may make him seem and when he likes something or something he isn’t shy about expressing it and his emotions don’t get him working up in steaming knots like Katsuki does. He agreed to fucking date him! He’s not stupid! He knows what his goddamn boyfriend is like!
And he knows that if he stands here and says that he doesn’t like the feeling of Shouto against him, his hand on Katsuki’s arm, heat seeping through their clothes, or the line of his body against him on the sofa, or the way that Shouto had snagged him by the cuff of his uniform yesterday when he wanted to get his attention- If Katsuki says he doesn’t like that, then Shouto will take it at face value and he’ll stop.
That’s… Katsuki doesn’t want that.
“I… do,” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I like it.” It’s hard to spit it out. Katsuki’s never ever been fucking good at being honest with himself. He’s better than he used to be, fucking sure, but he’s not good at it. He’s not good at saying these kinds of things. Shouto seems to grasp that, at least, so he waits for more, and Katsuki is kind of pissed at him for a fleeting moment because if he talked then maybe Katsuki wouldn’t have to keep going but if Katsuki wanted to date a talker, well. Wrong person.
“I wasn’t… expecting that. It’s like you invited me over to study just to fucking flirt with me.” Which is something he would expect from like Pikachu or the creepy runt or racoon eyes, but not-
“I did,” Shouto confirms, and Katsuki’s brain grinds to a halt. He stares at Shouto, feeling like he’s never seen him before, and Shouto shifts a little under his stare. “Is that… bad? Ashido and Kaminari suggested such a date…”
Okay, Katsuki gets why you don’t come out and say that – he’d feel so stupid to be like ‘hey this is a study date but we’re not ACTUALLY going to study’ – but given how straight-forward Shouto usually is, he would have felt a hell of a lot less insane if he had.
“They’re idiots,” Katsuki tells him, finally managing to relax a bit. “Don’t fucking do that again. Let’s just study and then I’ll hold your hand or whatever stupid shit you want afterwards.”
Shouto doesn’t look at Katsuki’s hand. Instead, his gaze drifts towards Katsuki’s mouth. They haven’t- they haven’t done that yet, and Katsuki stiffens. He is suddenly very, very aware of the wall at his back and he swallows sharply. “You-” He actually can’t get words out right now. Just a few inarticulate noises to try to express how much he wants to bash Shouto over the head.
“Can we?” he asks.
Katsuki manages to find his voice. “Once. And then we go back to fucking studying, got it?” He sounds much more brave than he actually feels. Holy shit.
Shouto steps closer, just a tiny step to make it less awkward, and then leans in. Katsuki closes his eyes, stiff. It’s very gentle. Just a press of lips on lips – Shouto’s are chapped – that barely applies any pressure, and then Shouto pulls back. Katsuki opens his eyes.
Both of them are red, which is great because thank god something fucking embarrasses Shouto, and Shouto’s smiling, just a little bit. Katsuki kinda hates how much he likes that smile. “They always closed their eyes in movies, too,” Shouto says. “Why?”
“Were you staring at me the whole fucking time?” Katsuki demands, and Shouto nods. “Don’t do that. Close your eyes next time.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“No, you’re putting it into practice right now.” Katsuki curls a hand into Shouto’s shirt and pulls him close.
Shouto’s smile grows a little bit. “I thought we were just kissing once?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki says, and he leans in for another.