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I: THE NAP
Hanta has been sinking deeper and deeper into the couch for the better part of an hour when his ears prick up. Feather-light footsteps pad across the common room, and suddenly his lap is full of a mess of red-and-white hair.
He blinks. “Well hello to you too.”
A muffled grunt in response.
“I’m sorry Roki, what was that? You’re gonna have to turn around.”
Todoroki rolls over slowly and makes a disgruntled expression. “Tired.”
Oh. It’s been a while since Hanta felt like he couldn’t breathe around Todoroki. He thought he had it under control, but nope, here he his, butterflies and all. It’s impossible to ignore how breathtaking Todoroki is, even in a worn-in pajama shirt with hair so mussed up it looks pink. That might even be drool by the corner of his mouth. God he’s so perfect. It doesn’t help that since becoming friends with Hanta, Todoroki seems to have lost all sense of personal boundaries—but Hanta just can’t bring himself to push him away, even as his heart threatens to burst out of his chest.
“…nta?”
Hanta’s eyes snap back to the boy in his lap. “Sorry, what?”
Todoroki rolls his eyes. (Who knew he has such an attitude when you get to know him? Hanta feels strangely honored.) “I said, are you okay? You look a bit red.”
Hanta blanches. “Oh, haha. I’m fine. Just a little warm.”
Todoroki makes a noncommittal humming sound, like he’s warm too, but makes no move to disentangle himself from Hanta’s lap. In fact, his arms wind around Hanta’s waist as he pouts, “Aren’t you tired too?”
“Me? Nah, not really.”
Todoroki’s eyes narrow. “I saw you nodding off when I walked in.”
“Was not!”
A cold hand pinches his side. “Was too.”
“Ow!” Hanta yelps. “Okay fine, training did kind of kick my ass today. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“You should go to bed.”
Hanta chuckles. “Roki buddy, I am not going to bed right now. It’s 4:00pm! That’d even be putting Bakugo to shame.”
Todoroki half shrugs. “So? Just take a nap.”
Hanta lifts up his hands in exasperation. “Not everyone can nap without fucking up their sleep schedule like you can!”
Todoroki wrinkles his nose. “Just try it,” he implores. His left hand lightly fists in the front of Hanta’s hoodie. Hanta can feel warmth seeping into the fabric, and goddamnit it’s relaxing.
“Wait a minute. You clearly just woke up from a nap. Yes?”
“…yes.”
Hanta gestures vaguely in the air. “And you came down here why, exactly?”
Todoroki actually flushes. “I… just wanted to see what you were up to.” Hanta raises a brow. “…and… I could go for another nap.”
Hanta has died and gone to heaven. That’s the only explanation for this situation. The Todoroki Shouto wants to. To take a nap. With him. It wouldn’t be the first time—they both have a habit of falling asleep during Class A movie nights—but it sure as hell is the first time Todoroki has initiated it, y’know, on purpose.
Hanta fights down his panic and flashes him an unsteady grin. “S’that so?”
Todoroki nods once. Hanta looks to the ceiling briefly and lets out a soft sigh. Lord give me strength.
How is he supposed to say no to those doe eyes? He’s ninety-nine percent sure Todoroki doesn’t even know what he’s doing. It’s all too easy to flop sideways and pull Todoroki along with him. The corners of Todoroki’s lips quirk up as he lays his head on Hanta’s chest. Hanta’s hand is drawn to his hair like a magnet, and he’s running it through the strands before he can think better of it. Even messy like this, his hair is so soft.
Todoroki lets out a pleased hum. “Thank you,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. What the fuck. How is Hanta supposed to sleep with Todoroki curled around him like this, all warm and sleepy and cute?
Apparently, like a rock, because the next thing he knows, he’s waking up to some very unsubtle giggling.
“Dude, shut up, you’re gonna wake them up!” Kirishima whispers furiously.
“Oh please, Todoroki could sleep through a hurricane,” Kaminari deadpans.
“All I need is some blackmail pics and then we can go,” Mina says.
Sero’s eyes shoot open. “Mina plea—”
He looks down. Todoroki is turning away from the source of the noise, burying his face in Hanta’s hoodie.
“Hanta, make them be quiet,” he whines.
Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari’s eyebrows shoot right up to their hairlines. Their identical expressions would actually be funny under any other circumstance. Unfortunately, Hanta can’t really feel anything but mortification at the moment. He’s pretty sure his face looks like a tomato.
Kirishima turns, making a shooing motion to the others. Hanta shoots Mina a pleading look, and she mimes locking her mouth shut and throwing away the key.
Thank you, Hanta mouths.
As they exit the common room, he turns back to Todoroki, whose breathing has already evened back out (of course). There’s no way Hanta’s falling back asleep after that. He presses his fingers to his own cheek, willing his flush to calm down. His other hand cards through Todoroki’s hair on impulse.
His phone vibrates with a text from Kaminari:
“hanta”?? wtf since when r u guys that close????
we’re not, Hanta lies, a smile playing on his lips.
II: THE HOODIE
Shouto braces himself as he steps into the kitchen to the sound of raised voices.
He should’ve known—Midoriya and Bakugo are here, making far too much noise for the late hour. Bakugo is leaning over a cookbook on the counter, eyes squinting. Midoriya sits on the counter next to him, swinging his feet in the air as they argue.
“Damn nerd, I told you to get your fucking hands out of my batter!”
“Kacchan I just washed my hands, promise!”
“I don’t care about your germs, I just don’t want you getting salmonella and then coming to me crying like a baby about it!”
“Aww, Kacchan cares—”
“You shut your damn mouth—”
Shouto clears his throat awkwardly as he heads over to them, picking up Bakugo’s discarded reading glasses off the dining table on his way. He hands them off to the blond, receiving a wordless nod of thanks.
Deku pouts as Bakugo slides the bowl of brownie batter out of his reach, turning to face Shouto instead. “Hey, Todoroki-kun! What’s up?”
“I was just looking for Hanta.”
“Ohhh. Hanta. I can’t say I’ve seen him.” He nudges Bakugo (rather harshly, Shouto thinks). “Have you seen him, Kacchan?”
Bakugo glances up from his cookbook. “Ow—what?” He looks to Shouto. “Oh. Hell if I know where that tape-faced bastard’s run off to.”
Shouto frowns, beginning to turn away.
“Wait. Is that a new hoodie, Todoroki-kun?” Deku asks, eyes narrowed.
Shouto shifts back to face him. He glances down at his chest and blinks in surprise, fiddling with the soft gray fabric. “No,” he replies evasively.
Bakugo snorts, attention turned back to the mixing bowl as he pours in the dry ingredients. “That’s Sero’s hoodie. He used to wear it like every day.”
Shouto feels his face go warm as Midoriya’s big green eyes light up.
“Oh! That’s interesting, why—”
“I was cold. It was the first thing I saw laying around,” Shouto defends.
“You were in his room??” Midoriya questions.
Obviously not. Why would Shouto be in Hanta’s room without him? It would be rude to show up uninvited.
“No,” Shouto replies in an of-course-not tone. “I was in my room.”
Bakugo actually laughs aloud, but stifles it after a sharp glare from Midoriya.
“Does Sero typically leave his, um, clothes in your room, Todoroki-kun?” Deku asks. He seems genuinely curious. Bakugo’s shoulders shake.
“I-“ Shouto pauses. “Sometimes, it—”
“Roki! I’ve been looking all over for you, man!”
Shouto turns as Hanta waltzes into the kitchen. His trademark grin falters slightly as his eyes drop to Shouto’s chest. More specifically, to the faded indie band graphic printed on the fabric that he most surely recognizes. From his own closet.
Hanta’s eyes dance with amusement. He walks up to the trio, slinging his arm around Shouto’s shoulders. Shouto activates his right side to lower his climbing temperature.
“I thought we were gonna continue our Marvel movie marathon tonight?” Hanta continues, leaning into him.
Shouto turns to him. Hanta’s face is too close. He closes his eyes and breathes in. Oh, he must have just showered. He smells like the sandalwood soap he uses. Smells nice.
Shouto blinks his eyes open and smiles warmly. “Yes. That sounds good.”
Hanta’s face falls, and he pulls away a bit. He seems almost flustered. No, that can’t be right… Shouto didn’t even do anything to elicit that kind of reaction.
Hanta scratches the back of his neck. “Okay! Let me just grab some snacks while we’re down here then.” He steps towards the pantry, leaving Shouto standing in front of Midoriya and Bakugo.
Oh goodness. He’d forgotten they were there.
The smug look on Midoriya’s face shows he knows it, too. Thankfully, it seems Bakugo hasn’t been paying much attention.
“Movie night?” Midoriya asks, batting his lashes.
“When Hanta found out I hadn’t seen any of the superhero movies, he said I’d been ‘robbed’ and insisted we watch them all.”
“Not all, just the main MCU timeline!” Hanta hollers from inside the pantry.
Shouto rolls his eyes, but he feels a flutter in his chest. How is everything he does so endearing? “Yeah, that.”
Midoriya hums skeptically. “Right.”
Bakugo turns to Hanta as he exits the pantry clutching an armful of snacks, brandishing a batter-covered spatula at him. “You’re a fucking nerd, you know that?”
“I thought you were into that?” Hanta replies, adeptly sidestepping Bakugo as he attempts to swat him with the spatula. Midoriya snags it from his grasp and immediately starts licking the batter off.
“I- you-“ Bakugo throws his hands up in exasperation. “I hate you all.”
“What did I do?” Shouto wonders genuinely, as he steps out of the kitchen with Hanta.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Hanta chuckles.
Shouto feels tingly. He glances back at the kitchen, where Bakugo has successfully wrestled the spatula out of Midoriya’s grip.
Sweetheart? Midoriya mouths incredulously.
Shouto whips his head back around, deciding to ignore him.
They walk in silence towards Hanta’s room for a bit, until Hanta turns to him, smiling cheekily. “So.”
Shouto feels his face flush. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. “So…?”
“Nice hoodie ya got there.”
Shouto sighs. “To be honest, I didn’t realize it was yours until Midoriya pointed it out to me.”
Hanta hums as they reach his door. “Oh really?”
Shouto knocks shoulders with him. “Yes, really. Sorry, I’ll go grab one of my own from my room—”
Hanta catches him by the elbow and pulls him into the room before he can turn to leave. “No, silly. I don’t mind. It looks cute on you.”
Cute?
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Todoroki shuffles to Hanta’s bed, where the black-haired boy is busy setting up the movie on his laptop.
“Of course, man. Mi casa es su casa and all that.”
“…right.” Shouto doesn’t know what that means.
Hanta pats the bed next to him, passing Shouto a blanket when he sits down shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
Shouto pulls his hood up and over his head, catching a whiff of sandalwood. “Smells good,” he comments mildly.
Hanta turns to him in surprise. “What?”
Shouto just settles in against Hanta’s shoulder. “Your hoodie. It smells like you.”
Hanta doesn’t seem to have a response to that. “Ah,” he says, hitting the spacebar to start the movie.
Shouto glances up at him as they’re bathed in a red light. The front strands of Hanta’s hair are falling into his face. His features are relaxed, although he’s chewing on his bottom lip in thought.
Beautiful, he thinks.
III: THE REUNION
It’s good to be back from his semester abroad. Sure, Hanta got a nice tan going and brushed up on his English while in America, and of course got a ton of fieldwork experience under his belt, but he missed UA.
Missed might be an understatement. He missed hanging out with his friends, but he really missed Todoroki. Their frequent texts just didn’t cut it, and Todoroki’s not much of a caller. Hanta bounces on the balls of his feet in excitement as he steps off the jetway. He can’t wait to see everyone (Todoroki) back at the dorms.
He staggers back, dropping his bag as a sturdy weight barrels into his chest. He hugs back instinctively, squeezing his eyes shut. He knows this body that’s hugging the life force straight out of him. He doesn’t have to check.
“Missed you,” Todoroki says, muffled in his shoulder.
Hanta squeezes his arms tighter around Todoroki’s waist. “Missed you too, doll.”
Todoroki smells amazing—like spices and home and comfort. Hanta misses him all over again, and tucks his face into Todoroki’s neck.
They stand there for a moment, breathing in each other’s air, until Hanta breaks the silence. “Thought I was meeting you at UA?”
“I couldn’t wait,” Todoroki admits softly. Hanta might die. He’s so fucking cute.
“Yeah?" he grins. "How’d you even know where to find me?”
Todoroki looks up at him. “Tracked your flight,” he says shamelessly.
Hanta is touched. He buries his face into Todoroki’s neck again. “It’s good to be home.”
Todoroki hums like he agrees. Hanta can feel the vibration in his chest. “You’re not home yet,” Todoroki chides.
“Yeah, I am.” Hanta pulls back and looks him in the eye, tucking a red strand of hair behind his ear. “Thank you, Shouto.”
Todoroki’s face turns red suddenly. “Say it again,” he says quickly, stubbornly.
“Say what?” Hanta asks, furrowing his brow. “Thank you?”
Todoroki rolls his eyes. “No, idiot.” He looks at him meaningfully, as if Hanta is supposed to somehow know what he’s thinking—
Oh.
Oh.
“Shouto,” Hanta breathes. “Shouto, Shouto, Shouto. Thank you for welcoming me back. Means a lot.” He emphasizes his point with a kiss to his temple.
How cute. That was all he wanted? He could’ve been calling him by his first name for years. After all, Todoroki’s been calling him “Hanta” for a long time now.
Todoroki pulls back, visibly steeling his expression. “Of course,” he replies, diplomatic as ever.
“C’mon, let’s go pick up my suitcase,” Hanta says, rolling his eyes fondly. Who is Todoroki trying to fool? It’s clear as day he’s all warm and gooey under that cold exterior.
As they make their way through the bustling airport, Todoroki turns to him. “Do you think… never mind.”
Hanta quirks his brow. “What? Speak your truth, dude.”
Todoroki nods, inhaling sharply. “Get dinner with me?” he asks, avoiding Hanta’s gaze.
Why is he being so weird? “Of course we can get dinner. We can go after I drop off my stuff at the dorms and say hi to—”
Todoroki shakes his head. “No. I meant before we go back to UA.”
Hanta frowns, moving away from Todoroki to dodge a lady walking with her eyes glued to her phone. “Oh. Well I guess, I’m pretty wiped out though and I could really use a shower before I go anywhere…”
Todoroki turns to him, his expression guilty. “Oh. Of course, you must be exhausted. How could I not think of that?”
“What? Roki, stop, it’s fine. What’s wrong?” Hanta asks, nudging Todoroki with his elbow.
Todoroki mutters something unintelligible.
“Shouto?”
Todoroki’s eyes snap to his. “I just… wanted to spend more time with you. Before… everyone else…”
Thank god Hanta is fluent in awkward-Todoroki-speak. His heart soars. “You want me to yourself before I get bombarded by the idiots,” he asserts with more confidence than he feels.
Todoroki sighs, dropping his head. “…yes,” he affirms quietly.
Hanta’s grin threatens to split his face in two. “Tell you what. I do need to shower. And I should drop my bags off anyway.”
Hanta grabs Todoroki’s arm to manuver him out of the way of a large family waiting in line for fast food.
Todoroki nods sharply, still staring at the floor. “Of course.”
“But, how about we go to bed early tonight? And do a movie night or something?” Todoroki looks up at him hopefully. Hanta hurries on. “And I’m sure Kirishima and Kaminari will want to eat together, and I can’t exactly say no, but how about dinner tomorrow? Just you and me? Or brunch, I don’t care, we can do whatever you w—“
“Yes. That sounds… perfect.” Todoroki’s eyes crinkle, that’s how big his smile is. Hanta doesn’t remember him ever smiling like that. God, he’s missed him.
“You look different,” Todoroki says abruptly as they come to a stop at the baggage carousel.
“I do? Different how?” Hanta asks, curious. He knows he’s changed, but he wants to hear it from Todoroki.
Todoroki actually appears to think on it for a bit. “Taller maybe… your hair’s longer… you’re tanner… you just look… different. Handsome.”
Hanta’s heart skips a beat. “Handsome?” He croaks. Quick, recover, that was so awkward! “You mean I wasn’t handsome before?” Real smooth.
Todoroki smacks his arm lightly, eyes dancing with mirth. “Shut up.”
Hanta gapes, giggling. “Damn, who taught you to swear while I was gone? Bakugo?”
Shouto levels him with a flat glare, crossing his arms. “Please. That’s hardly a swear.”
“And yet, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say it!” Hanta laughs.
Yeah, it’s good to be home.
IV: THE APARTMENT
Shouto should never, ever have agreed to move in with Hanta. He usually makes good decisions. Calculated decisions, so he won’t regret things later.
Well, he’s certainly regretting his life choices now, as Hanta walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Todoroki’s been sitting bundled in a blanket on the couch for the last hour, scrolling the #seroroki Twitter thread. It seems to be documenting his and Hanta’s friendship, and each post makes Todoroki’s heart do a funny flip in his chest. It’s… weird to think about how they’re viewed from an outside perspective. When he’s with Hanta, he usually feels like they’re in their own little bubble. But their Twitter fans seem to think they have a special connection, and they don’t even know that they live together.
Shouto looks back to Hanta. He’s breathtaking—his body is all tanned, toned muscle. There are still some water droplets running down his chest, carving out the strong lines there. His lithe build serves him well for hero work, but Shouto thinks it’s also nice to just… look at. To touch, probably. His waist is just so narrow—
“Shou?” Hanta asks, scrubbing a second towel through his wet hair.
Shouto looks up guiltily. “Yes?”
“What do you wanna do for dinner? Takeout?”
“Takeout is good,” Shouto says. “I’m still getting over my cold from last week, I think. Maybe pho?”
“Aww, really?” Hanta pouts, approaching the couch. Shouto very bravely stays in one place. Hanta peers over the side of the couch, bringing a hand to his forehead. “You don’t feel warm, at least.”
This man. It’s a cold; there was never any fever to begin with. He tells Hanta as much.
Hanta raises his hands in a placating gesture. “No harm in checking, man. Will you order for us please? Lemme go get dressed and I’ll pick it up.” Right. Because he’s still half naked. As if Shouto could forget with him right there.
“Of course.” Shouto pulls up the menu on his phone, leaning into the kiss Hanta presses to his temple before he saunters away.
“Do you need anything else?” Hanta yells from behind the closed door of his room. “Tea, cold medicine, cough syrup?”
Shouto’s chest feels warm. He’ll never get used to being doted on like this. “I’m alright, thank you.”
“‘Kay, just checking!”
Later that evening, they play Mario Kart (Hanta has insisted on showing Shouto all the “classic” games he missed out on growing up), then throw on some background movie as they both fight to stay awake. As Shouto drifts in and out of sleep with his head in Hanta’s lap, Hanta’s long fingers gently combing through his hair, he thinks he couldn’t imagine a life more perfect. (Almost.)
V: THE GALA
Hanta groans as he sees the paparazzi crowding the front entrance. He rests his head against the limousine window with a soft thunk. “Why did I agree to go to this stupid gala again?”
“Because, it’s for a good cause,” Mina drawls.
“And because everyone’s gonna be there!” Kirishima says, pumping his fist in the air.
Not everyone, Hanta wants to say, but doesn’t.
“It’ll be fun!” Kaminari says excitedly. “C’mon, loosen up a little! All that time with Todoroki has turned you into a shut-in.”
“Shouto’s not a shut-in, he just doesn’t like big crowds,” Hanta grumbles defensively.
“Oh my fucking god can you all shut up,” Bakugo growls. “We’re here. Get out.”
Once they make it past the paparazzi and into the ballroom, Kaminari makes a beeline for the bar, dragging Hanta with him. Honestly, he doesn’t mind. He’s going to need something to get through tonight.
It’s not that Hanta hates a party; he just prefers more laid-back events. This kind of social scene—black tie, rich people showing off and pretending to care about some cause—just feels fake.
Kaminari nudges him like he can read his mind. “Trust me, I’d rather be at a house party than this stuffy place, but let’s make the most of it!” He hands Hanta a shot of lord-knows-what. Hanta eyes it suspiciously. “Okay, on three…”
Hanta is teetering on the edge of tipsy, chatting at the bar with some support course alums, when Shouto walks in. He knows he’s arrived because one of the girls next to him quite literally gasps, exclaiming, “Oh my god, it’s Todoroki! I thought he never showed up to events like this!”
Hanta turns, and has to consciously close his jaw. Shouto is dressed in a tux, his hair is slicked back, and he’s drawn up to his full height as he scans the room. He’s beautiful. That girl is right—he never comes to events like this if he can help it. Why is he even here?
The girl to his left lightly touches his forearm, drawing his attention away from Shouto. “I heard you guys moved in together after graduation, right? What’s that like?”
Hanta scratches his cheek in thought. “I mean, we’re both super busy—separate agencies and all—but we usually have dinner together, stuff like that. It’s nice. It’s harder to keep in touch with my other friends from UA.”
The girl blinks, tucking her long brown hair behind her ear. “You guys were friends at UA?”
Hanta resists the urge to roll his eyes. Why does nobody know this? Actually, scratch that, why should this random support course student even know about friendships in Class A to begin with?
“Uh, yeah, we were. We actually bonded over our favorite manga.”
The girl to his right coos, “Aww, that is so sweet!”
Sure, Hanta guesses.
She pales suddenly, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder. “H-hello, can I—”
“I’d like to speak with Hanta.” Shouto has appeared right behind him, apparently. Hanta will blame the alcohol on not noticing him sooner. “Alone.”
Hanta would tell him off for being rude, but he’s too happy to see him. “Roki! Hey, what are you doing here?”
Shouto’s glare is cold. “I was invited,” he replies, as if it were obvious.
Hanta gapes. “Of course you were invited, you’re always invited to these—what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” Shouto says coolly as he slides into the barstool next to him. Hanta didn’t even notice the girls from before leave. “I just felt like attending tonight.”
“Well geez Roki, if you’da told me we could’a come here together! I only went with the four Musketeers since I figured you’d stay home.” Hanta scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.
Shouto’s gaze finally softens. “Hanta, don’t worry. It was… a last-minute decision.”
Hanta’s brows reach his hairline. “‘Last-minute?’” he echoes. “Wow, I must really be a bad influence on you.”
“Not at all,” Shouto smiles, looking down at his lap.
“O-kay, Mr. Mysterious. How about we go socialize? That’s what we’re meant to be here for, anyway,” Hanta says, sliding off his barstool.
Shouto does the same, buttoning his suit jacket as he stands, surveying the crowd. Hanta has a mini internal breakdown all over again.
Shouto brings his hand to the small of Hanta’s back, guiding him to the left. “Midoriya and Iida are over there,” he says, nodding in their general direction.
Hanta just hums his agreement, mainly because he’s having trouble focusing on anything apart from Shouto’s hand, burning like a brand into his suit jacket. Seriously, what is his deal tonight?
“Todoroki-kun! Sero!” Midoriya waves at them excitedly. His face is a bit flushed. “It’s good to see you two!”
Hanta nods in greeting, shoving his hands in his pockets. Shouto’s hand retreats from his lower back as he does the same. Hanta resists a shiver.
“Are you here together?” Midoriya continues, an odd smile on his face.
Shouto stiffens next to him. Why is everyone being so weird?
Hanta replies, “Actually, I came with Bakugo, Mina, Kaminari and Kirishima. I didn’t even realize Shouto was planning to show up.”
Iida frowns. “Yes, I’m surprised to see you here, Todoroki. I thought you had something at the agency—”
Midoriya elbows him, earning a look of confusion from Iida. “We’re just glad you could make it, Todoroki-kun,” he smiles warmly.
“Indeed," Iida concedes. "How are things going at the agency?”
Shouto seems relieved to talk about work. “Very well. My old man’s still pissed at me for starting my own instead of joining his, but that’s exactly why I love it,” he chuckles. Hanta couldn’t look away from him if he tried. His soft skin, his gelled hair—he looks like a painting. “We have some promising sidekick prospects this year. A few of the interns are struggling, but that’s to be expected. We’re working on more individualized training plans for them.”
Hanta smiles, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “That’s my Roki! So thoughtful.”
Iida and Midoriya level him with an odd look, but he chooses to ignore them. It’s far too easy when Shouto’s looking at him like that—with all the affection in the world, like he really means something to him. Careful, Hanta. He can’t afford to go too far down that road.
Shouto clears his throat, turning back to his friends. “Yes, well, I wanted to go say hello to Aizawa. Would you two care to join us?”
“Oh, we already spoke with him, but thanks, Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya waves them off.
Like magic, Shouto’s hand returns to the small of his back, guiding him where he wants him as they walk away.
“Have fun! Drink responsibly!” Iida shouts from behind them.
Hanta snorts, throwing a halfhearted wave over his shoulder in acknowledgement. “Once a class rep, always a class rep, huh?”
Shouto hums in agreement. Then he tips his head close to Hanta’s to speak lowly in his ear. Hanta might actually combust. “I can just picture him chopping his hands in the air,” he says conspiratorially.
A laugh bubbles out of him before he can help it. He shoves at Shouto’s face. “Shouto!” he gasps, scandalized. Shouto just smiles at him mischievously.
Hanta shakes his head fondly. “You’re not wrong.”
Shouto tips his head back and laughs. God, it’s good to see him so happy. If Hanta knew he enjoyed these fancy parties, he’d have dragged him along to more of them.
When he vocalizes this thought, Shouto turns to him, a quizzical expression on his face. “I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Like these parties.”
Oh. Huh.
Hanta must still look confused, because Shouto elaborates for him. “I just wanted to see you,” he says, his warm hand shifting up Hanta’s waist.
Hanta sputters, “B-but we live together! I saw you this morning!”
“That’s true. It just feels like we haven’t been able to spend much quality time together since things ramped up at work.” Shouto hesitates. “Should I… not have—”
Hanta cuts him off before he can doubt himself, leaning heavily into his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Shou. Missed you.”
It was the right thing to say. Shouto beams—not with his whole face, just with his eyes, but Hanta can tell all the same—and straightens up a bit.
As they approach Aizawa, who looks deeply bored (as usual) by his conversation with Fat Gum, Shouto’s hand slides away from his back again. Hanta leans away from him, standing on his own.
As soon as they exit the conversation, Shouto’s hand comes right back to his side, like it was made to fit there. Hanta doesn’t mention it. If Shouto’s a little touchy—possessive, even—for the night, he sure as hell won’t be the one to call him out on it. Not when it makes him feel so warm and gooey. Not when Shouto looks so damn proud of himself.
Hanta knows that some of their friends think they’re too close to not be… well, together. (Wait, was that what Midoriya meant? Ah, well. His brain is too fuzzy to think on it deeply.) But he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, and he knows Shouto certainly doesn’t either. Sure, he’d be over the moon if things turned out… like that, but he knows Shouto doesn’t feel that way. And Hanta would never dream of pushing him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.
What they have now is more than Hanta could’ve ever asked for. They trust each other with everything. It’s more than enough. It has to be enough.
Hanta rests his cheek on Shouto’s shoulder and sighs.
+ I: THE SCARE
Heart racing, Shouto slides to a stop in front of the collapsed office building, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushes to the cluster of heroes gathered ahead of him.
“Red Riot!” he shouts frantically. “Where is he?!”
Kirishima turns to him, eyes wide. “Shouto! He’s trapped under the rubble. Cementoss and Uravity are on their way—”
Shouto attempts to push past him, but Kirishima stops him in his tracks, putting his hands on his shoulders. Shouto meets his eyes angrily.
“Shouto. Take a breath. There’s nothing you can do right now.”
“But—”
“No, I’m serious. If you try to go down there, quirk or no quirk, you risk shifting the debris and injuring him,” Kirishima explains patiently. “Look, as far as we can tell, he’s doing okay. We can’t jeopardize his safety.”
Shouto shoves Kirishima’s hands off of him in frustration. “How could you possibly know that he’s okay?! He could be— he could—”
Kirishima yanks a hidden earpiece out of his ear and thrusts it into Shouto’s palm. “Here.”
His hands are so shaky he can barely fit the damn thing in his ear. “Hello? Hanta?”
A broken laugh. Shouto sags in relief. “Shou? Baby, that’s you, right?”
Shouto lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?”
“Honestly, I’ve been better,” Hanta chirps brightly.
This idiot. Shouto could kill him. “But you’re not hurt?” he pleads.
“Just a couple scrapes, love. I’ll be fine as long as we don’t move anything until Cementoss and Uravity get here.”
“Yeah. Kiri—Red Riot filled me in.” Shouto steadies his voice, urging himself to sound confident. “We’ll get you out of there soon. Don’t worry.”
Soon can’t come soon enough. Shouto keeps Hanta on the line until Uraraka and Cementoss arrive, and it feels like a lifetime of waiting as the rubble is painstakingly excavated. Shouto watches the scene like a hawk until finally, Hanta emerges from the rubble. He’s intact—true to his word, he’s suffered nothing but a few scrapes and bruises.
Shouto still rushes to him anyway. If ice seeps out of his shoe to help him glide to his destination faster, well, he’s too busy wrapping Hanta in his arms to notice.
He buries his face in his hair. There’s a lingering hint of sandalwood beneath the smell of soot, and Shouto clings to it like a lifeline. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he whispers.
Hanta’s answering chuckle is a rumble deep in his chest. “Sweetheart, you know I can’t promise that.”
Shouto pulls away to look at him fiercely. “Don’t joke! I thought—”
Hanta immediately softens. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Look, I’m here, I’m fine.”
Shouto nods. “You’re okay.”
“Yeah, baby, I’m okay,” Hanta breathes. “I got you.”
Shouto shakes his head miserably. “Stop. I should be the one comforting you. I could’ve been there—”
“Shou, there’s no way you could’ve predicted—”
“I could never forgive myself if something happened to you—”
“Nothing happened—”
“Because I love you!”
Hanta’s jaw drops. Shouto slaps a hand over his own mouth.
He lowers his hand and tries to backpedal, but in this moment, all that comes out is the truth. “I’m so sorry Hanta, I just—kept picturing you dead and I couldn’t bear it to think you’d be gone and I’d never have told you, never had the courage to… to say it.” Shouto is rambling. Shouto doesn’t ramble. “But it doesn’t have to mean anything, we can just—just keep things how they were, god I couldn’t stand it if you hated me for it—”
“Hate you?” Hanta gapes. “How could I ever hate you? Shouto, I love you. I’ve been in love with you since high school, I just—I didn’t know—”
Shouto surges forward and kisses him. It’s the only thing to do in that moment—he can’t even think of doing anything else. He just has to. It’s messy—their front teeth go clink and Hanta makes a muffled noise of surprise. Shouto pulls back to apologize, say something, anything, but Hanta’s hand fists in the front of his costume and pulls him in again. And again. Hanta’s other hand slides to the back of his neck, tilting his head. Hanta’s lips are chapped, and there’s ash smeared all over his face, and Shouto wouldn’t have it any other way. Shouto inhales through his nose as their lips brush together over and over again. Hanta gives him a flurry of pecks in quick succession, like he’s happy and doesn’t know where to start. Shouto smiles into it, brings his hands to Hanta’s hair and guides him into a kiss that’s long, slow, and deep. It feels so right. Like they’ve been standing on the precipice of something this whole time, and only just now took the fall together. Shouto is breathless, but he couldn’t care less. Take all my oxygen, I don’t need it. Take everything I have to give you.
A wolf-whistle from Kirishima stops him in his tracks. He turns away from Hanta just in time to see a thick piece of tape slap neatly over his eyes. Kirishima yelps, grabbing at the makeshift blindfold. Shouto turns back to Hanta to chastise him, but is instead met by his lips on his again. Insistent, urgent, sending a message:
I love you.
I love you too, Shouto thinks, his eyes falling closed, melting into the kiss. Always.