Archive of Our Own

Izuku Midoriya is going to die.

Or, well -

He's probably going to die, if not today then maybe tomorrow, or perhaps even the day after that, if he somehow manages to circumvent the media blitz that his (hopeless, adorable, extremely and unfortunately clueless) best friend has just set off. He is going to sputter out like a dying star, maybe even going supernova as he crashes and burns out amidst the remnants of his dignity, and then explode into a thousand tiny little pieces, all at the ripe old age of twenty-six.

Which is fantastic, really. It's wonderful, just great, absolutely smashing news.

His mother will be horrified to hear it.

Not for the first time that afternoon, Izuku shoves his face into the embroidered throw pillow he keeps on the couch in his office; it reads "Keep Calm and Hero On" in very tight, very neat little stitches, and clashes horribly with the rest of the sleek, modern decor of Idaten agency.

It's perfect for muffling his frustrated whisper-screams, and also for hiding his very red, very flustered face.

"Oh, my god," he breathes as he comes up for air. "Oh, my god, this is -"

Not Shouto's fault, he has to remind himself.

He can't blame the guy for not understanding basic social concepts or being up on pop culture; he was raised in an extremely structured, very rigid environment, after all, one where he got maybe one to two hours of media exposure a week and his computer usage was heavily monitored. Their class had had to spend more than one lazy Sunday afternoon explaining things like memes and forums and trolling to one very bewildered Shouto Todoroki back when they were in high school, and adulthood hasn't really made him any more aware.

No.

If anything, it's only made it worse, because Shouto has made it abundantly clear as they've gotten older that he really just doesn't care about these sorts of things.

He doesn't mind if the group chat talks about the latest shows and movies before he gets a chance to see them; he doesn't know any of the top one hundred trending songs on the charts. Izuku's pretty sure he only even owns a television so that he can hook his Switch up to a bigger screen to play Stardew Valley, and the last time he used the internet on his phone for something other than email or watching funny cat videos was that one time when he got lost in Shibuya and decided to make the best of it by looking up the best place nearby to get a haircut.

Honestly, it's kind of impressive -

That someone can be so out of touch these days. It takes real effort.

Which isn't to say that Izuku would ever make fun of him for it - because of course he wouldn't! He never lets his jokes go beyond gentle ribbing, because that's just mean.

He actually finds Shouto's idiosyncrasies rather endearing, if he's being truthful.

He likes him just the way that he is -

And maybe that's the problem.

Maybe that's the reason for his current predicament, because instead of trying to educate Shouto on what the with benefits portion of friends with benefits actually means, he'd just let the guy come to his own conclusions. He'd just trusted that Shouto would come to him and ask if there was something he didn't understand or really wanted to know, confident in the fact that Izuku (unlike the rest of their friends) wouldn't tease him too much for not already knowing, and now, well.

Here they are.

Barricaded together in Izuku's office while the media goes on a fucking field day after the bombshell Shouto has just inadvertently dropped on them at the end of that last interview.

"Okay, so - maybe it isn't that bad," his PR manager, Honda, offers.

Izuku splutters, violently.

Because not that bad?

Not that bad?

Izuku doesn't know whether Honda's being blindly optimistic again - like that time when he thought he could convince the paparazzi to form a single-file line for the meet-and-greet they did with Kacchan and Kirishima a few months ago, or when he'd spent a solid month trying to get Izuku to give up on the bad frozen breakfast burritos he'd taken a liking to in the States - or if this is just plain delusional.

Still, he forces himself to take a deep, calming breath, eyes wet and his cheeks red, as he stares at the man he pays to weed through his emails and streamline his schedule of appearances. Though he tries to keep his cool, he fears all that comes out of his mouth at first is a sound vaguely reminiscent of a goose honking, which he follows up with a very terse, kinda shrill, "Isn't that bad?"

Honda grimaces. "I mean, these things are always up for interpretation."

Across the room, Shouto's agent sighs.

A blunt, no-nonsense sort of woman, Izuku's always liked Kaori; she fits Shouto well, knowing when to call him out when he's being too reclusive for his own good and when to step in when he's trying to do too much. They strike a good balance, and she's done wonders for Shouto's reputation in the aftermath of his very public (very nasty) break with Endeavor's agency a few years ago.

But she also doesn't pull any punches.

She doesn't sugarcoat things, like, at all, and so her voice is resigned but firm as she says, "Honda, I don't think there's any other way to spin this," and Izuku winces.

He cringes, his head ducking back down beneath the pillow like a turtle retreating back into its shell, and beside him, Shouto clears his throat.

"I still don't understand what I did wrong. Can someone explain it to me?"

Kaori and Honda share a look.

Then, with all the patience of a saint, Kaori claps her hands together and takes a deep breath as she turns towards her hapless boss.

"Shouto, that reporter asked you about your relationship with Hero Deku."

"Yes," Shouto agrees, nodding. "I remember. I was there."

Izuku's lips quirk at the hint of irritation he hears in his friend's dry voice, just barely recognizable beneath his normally flat affect. He's so cute when he's annoyed.

"They were trying to fish out some kind of dirt on you," she tells him. "Something to sell to the tabloids. They probably wanted to know whether or not you all are dating, if there's any truth to the rumors that've been circling around you two for years -"

"And I told them we were just friends."

"Well, no," Kaori replies, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "You didn't, actually."

Shouto's eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "I did, too."

"You said, and I am quoting here, Shouto, that you two are friends - with benefits."

Shouto, bless him, just looks mildly perplexed at the correction.

He looks to Izuku for some kind of clarity, and when Izuku just shakes his head and mumbles out a hopeless buhhhhh he looks back to Kaori.

"…but there are benefits," he asserts.

Honda presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and barks out a laugh.

"God, you can't make this stuff up," he murmurs. "You really can't!"

Kaori, meanwhile, keeps it professional.

"Are there?" she asks, clearing her throat. "I hesitate to ask, because it seems rude and I don't want to violate your privacy, but… are you sleeping with your friend and fellow hero? As your publicist, I feel I should probably know. So that I can field any and all questions you may receive more appropriately, you understand."

Shouto blinks at her, long and slow.

"I have a futon," he finally offers.

Kaori frowns. "What does that -"

"It's only big enough for me, so where would Midoriya sleep?"

Honda's crying now.

Like - actually crying, though whether it's because he finds the situation funny or because he's dreading the onslaught of requests for interviews and clarification and pictures that's certain to be coming their way, Izuku can't say.

He does think it's about time he came to his friend's defense, though, and so he reluctantly sets his little pillow aside and taps Shouto's arm to get his attention.

"Hey," he murmurs, smiling to soften the blow. "Shou."

Shouto twists towards him with a hum, giving him his full attention.

"What do you think the term 'friends with benefits' means?"

The other's answer is immediate, sure.

"It's when you're on good enough terms with someone that there are additional benefits to your relationship that aren't present in a normal friendship."

Izuku's mouth opens and closes several times, in rapid succession. Because that's -

Hmm.

Well, Izuku supposes he's not wrong.

That is the operational definition of the phrase, more or less.

But he still doesn't think Shouto really understands what he's saying, or what people will assume they're doing now that Shouto's inadvertently put his foot in his mouth on national television, and so he makes an encouraging sort of gesture, spurring him on, and asks, "Okay, but like… what kind of benefits?"

"Like… you let me use your Netflix account, so that I don't have to get one of my own."

Oh, Izuku thinks, momentarily blinded by cuteness aggression.

"And we have joint custody of that All Might Special Edition chess set that came out last year, because there was only one in stock at the store, and you grabbed it first, but didn't want me to feel left out."

Oh, no, he's so adorable Izuku can't even be upset.

It's a sentiment Honda apparently shares.

"You two have joint custody," he grits out, incredulous. "Of a board game -"

Shouto nods sagely. "The pieces are shaped like other heroes and sidekicks he's paired up with over the years. It's very fun, even though I don't really care for chess."

Kaori waves a hand at her partner, forestalling any further commentary.

"Continue with your explanation please, Shouto."

"Izuku also has the spare key to my apartment in case I need someone to water my plants when I'm out of town, and he knows the passcode to my phone in case of emergencies."

Izuku nods, biting his lip. "I mean - yes. Yes, I do. But that's not -"

"You helped me pick out Toast from the animal shelter, and you don't let me go outside in winter without a coat, even though I don't really need one."

Well, sure, Izuku thinks.

Frostbite is forever.

So is sun damage, which is why people should always wear sunscreen during prolonged outdoor activity, even if (like Shouto) they're practically immune to heatstroke and most sorts of burns due to their quirk. The smell is kinda uniquely awful, but… that's really a small price to pay in exchange for not having to deal with melanoma later in life, and there's a lot of brands now that make formulas without much scent to them at all, so really -

"Deku."

Realizing he's said all this out loud, Izuku cuts himself off with a wince.

"Right!" he croaks, shoving at Shouto's leg when he sees the other's amused smirk. "Priorities, sorry. Bigger fish to fry."

"Bigger than melanoma?" Shouto murmurs.

"Oh, bite me."

Shouto doesn't take the bait.

"I wouldn't let just anyone have access to my life like that," he says instead, his eyes so full of blind trust and admiration Izuku can't help but smile. "I wouldn't let Bakugou or Kaminari anywhere near my plant collection."

"As you shouldn't," Izuku agrees.

"And Uraraka can never post anything on my Instagram again. Kaori forbid it, because she said it makes people too thirsty."

For good reason, Izuku thinks.

The internet's never really recovered from the handful of candid photos of Shouto cuddling with Toast the Tiny Tomcat Uraraka had uploaded to his account back when they'd first picked him up from the shelter; Kaori visibly flinches every take the hashtag "ToastTime" comes up in conversation or trends online, and Izuku has each and every picture saved down on his phone for when he's feeling gloomy and needs a pick-me-up.

Guilty as charged.

"Which means that you and I aren't just friends," Shouto says in summation, like he's presenting his closing arguments in a court of law. "I trust you with things I wouldn't share with other people; I trust you with my life, and also my credit card and the passwords to all my accounts. We are friends with extra benefits."

He's so earnest, Izuku thinks, chewing at his lower lip; he is so very convinced that he's gotten this right.

Izuku almost doesn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, he says, "Shouto, I - I promise I'm not trying to make fun of you here. I'm really not, but - but that absolutely, one hundred percent does not mean what you think it does."

Shouto blinks at him again, so stupidly pretty Izuku kind of hates him for it.

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"Oh."

Shouto takes this news remarkably well in stride, staring down at his lap as he processes the revelation in just a handful of seconds. Then he's looking back up towards Izuku, his gaze tinted with curiosity and a little concern.

"What does it mean, then? What did I say?"

And Izuku doesn't know how to say this.

He really doesn't, he is not qualified for this kind of thing - but Shouto is still looking at him all entreatingly, his eyes big and wide, and he's Izuku's best friend in the whole entire world, so.

Izuku has to speak up.

Fuck.

Shifting around on the couch, Izuku takes a deep breath. "Okay, so… when someone says that, when that's how they describe their relationship, what they really mean is… what they're actually trying to say is that - well." He makes a wholly inadequate gesture with his hands, something crude and crass and also half-aborted when he remembers that A) they're not alone, and B) he's not sure Shouto would understand what he's trying to convey anyways. "You know."

As far as explanations go, it's pretty lame. Sure enough, Shouto does not look impressed.

"I don't think I do," he says flatly.

Izuku whimpers.

"That's the whole reason I'm asking you."

"Well, can't you - can't you figure it out? With, like, context clues?"

"Maybe… if you actually gave me some."

Izuku groans and decides to go for broke.

"Oh, my god, you know what? I'm just say it, I'm gonna rip the band-aid off."

"That would be good, I think -"

"Friends with benefits means that you're friends, yes - but the benefits part suggests that the friends are messing around with each other. It implies that they're hooking up."

Shouto stares.

Steeling himself, Izuku says, "Like, that's the benefit, Shou. It's sex."

He stares, and stares, and stares, the wheels behind his eyes turning impossibly slowly, and when it finally seems to sink in, when he finally looks like he understands the enormity of what he has told the media is happening between him and Izuku, he sinks back into the couch.

"…ah. I see."

Then, a moment later, he follows this assessment up with a resigned, quiet, "Fuck."

Izuku snorts out a laugh and pats his shoulder.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Fuck."

So here's the thing.

Izuku wouldn't exactly mind being friends with benefits with Shouto Todoroki.

Obviously not, because Shouto is both incredibly attractive and everything he's ever wanted, ever since he was a tiny little first year and his dumb, hormonal self first set eyes on the boy who'd quietly sat at the back of the class and stared boredly into the middle distance instead of taking notes. Izuku's had a crush on him ever since that very first sports festival, when Todoroki had declared him his rival and thrown down the gauntlet, and he's been in big love with him for at least the last three or four years.

But while Izuku tries to be optimistic about a lot of things in his life, he isn't stupid.

He understands that people like Shouto Todoroki do not end up with people like him. He knows that there's an order to these sorts of things, that people tend to end up dating people who are more or less at their own level - and while there can be extenuating circumstances, he has neither the wealth nor the social standing to make up for his relatively ordinary appearance and tendency to whip out a pie chart and some datapoints for nearly every topic of conversation he encounters.

He is, for lack of a better term, a nerd.

In contrast, Shouto is kinda like the hero of every shoujo manga ever written.

He's gorgeous, for one thing, stunning and sleek and fashionable; Aoyama's asked him to model in three different fashion campaigns within the last year and a half alone, and Izuku knows at least half of his sponsorship offers are from cosmetic companies looking for the next fresh face. He's also gentle and kind, an incredible hero in his own right, and has Izuku mentioned he smells really, really good?

(He smells, like - so good.

It reminds Izuku of a campfire, but also something clean and crisp, like snowfall.

Izuku's not sure if it's cologne or fabric softener or just how people with fire and ice quirks naturally smell, but holy fucking shit, he kinda wants to bottle it up and take a bath in it.)

Add in the fact that he's been the son of the number two hero his entire life, the heir to a legacy decades in the making, and he's practically famous, even now.

Because while Endeavor's popularity had definitely taken a hit after the war and all his misdeeds had come to light, that sort of notoriety doesn't just go away. Rather, it builds, even if it's infamy instead of good publicity, and so Izuku doubts that there's a single person in Japan who doesn't know Shouto's name.

Izuku's popularity, on the other hand, is still growing.

The publicity he'd gotten over fighting All for One and Shigaraki had been relatively subdued, all things considered, people all too eager to leave that period of time behind. He's had to make a name for himself in other ways, and while he's definitely putting in the work and seeing some good results, he's not quite there yet. He was just outside the top five hero rankings last season, just that tiniest bit behind other, more recognizable household hero names.

He falls just the tiniest bit short, in multiple ways -

And that's not him being down on himself.

Really, it's not!

Sure, that might've been his excuse at the beginning of things, back when he'd had all the confidence of a mouse; but Izuku's come a long way since middle school. He's grown a lot, both in size and in maturity, and he knows what he's capable of and where his strengths lie. He can honestly say that he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and given the kind of questions and positive attention he tends to get at hero cons these days, he's knows he's got something going for him.

He just -

Also recognizes that his reflection is probably a lot less appealing than the one that Shouto sees each morning, that's all. That's the long and short of it.

There is no desperate, teenage angst, no awkward, unrequited confessions.

There's no heartbreak.

But Izuku is also very, very aware that Shouto Todoroki is so incredibly out of his league that it's almost laughable, which is why he hasn't ever said anything to his friend about his feelings.

He's always pushed any romantic desire he has for his friend aside in favor of keeping things the way they are, has contented himself with the rock-solid friendship they already have - mostly because there's no sense in ruining a perfectly good thing by opening his big, fat mouth, but also because he's lucky to have someone like Shouto in his life, yeah? He's lucky to have that kind of person in his corner at all, because so many people don't even have that, and like -

What they already have is enough. More than, even.

It's everything he could have ever asked for in a friendship, back when he'd been quirkless and totally alone and desperate for a helping hand.

But now…

Well.

He supposes the situation's changed.

With a heavy sigh, Izuku flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling; he glares at the ugly, old water stain in the far corner of the room like it holds the answers to all his questions, and when none are forthcoming, huffs out a heavy exhale.

Does he go for it, then?

Does he tell Shouto the truth?

Uraraka would encourage him to speak his mind, and probably point out that Todoroki's not the kind of person who'd hate him for explaining how he really feels, even if those feelings weren't returned. Tsuyu would almost certainly agree, and once those two have voiced a shared opinion, Iida and the rest of their friends from Class A are almost never far behind.

It's a little eerie, actually - how much everyone seems agree on his (rather hopeless) love life.

Though Izuku's not, like, a serial dater, he's managed to get a few relationships under his belt at this point. He knows how to plan a romantic evening and how best to handle all that new relationship energy; he knows what it feels like to kiss someone, to hold them close at night and tuck them under your chin, and he's definitely not a virgin - but he's also not super experienced at making relationships work for any extended period of time, and so his friends like to offer their advice whenever they can in the hopes that something he does will finally stick.

(Personally, Izuku's pretty sure it's not a matter of what he's doing, so much as who -

But every time he points that out, and also mentions that it's not like anyone else in the class really has a lot of room to talk, Kacchan just makes a face and calls him an idiot, which - rude.)

That kinda makes it sound like Izuku's desperate for some kind of relationship, though, like he's so terribly lonely on his own he can't stand it, and that's just not true?

It's really, really not, because he's got so many great things going for him!

Steady work as a hero, a reliable partner to go on patrols with, the support network to help him out when things don't go according to plan… while Izuku had always dreamed of being a hero when he was a little kid, he'd never, not even in his wildest dreams, imagined that this would be in the cards for him, that this would be his life, and so he really doesn't think he's got a whole lot of room to complain.

Because he enjoys what he does, yeah?

He really loves this life he's built, even when things are difficult, and he doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

He isn't out here pining for Shouto.

…but he wouldn't mind getting to see him naked every now and then either, and maybe also kissing him awake every morning and being the last thing he sees at night before he falls asleep.

Like, that would also be nice.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Izuku grabs for his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen, desperate for a distraction; wallowing around in own thoughts is getting him nowhere, and he figures he might as well try to clear out his email inbox while he's ruminating.

There's a handful of new messages waiting for him -

Two invites for interviews that Honda's vetted, one on a villain takedown he'd completed last week, and another on All Might's lasting legacy with today's newest generation of heroes. He quickly agrees to both, adding the little invites to his calendar as soon as the option pops up, and then moves on to the email from their agency detailing the renovations to the third floor locker rooms. Considering he, Shouto, and Iida have their own private bathrooms, that doesn't really affect him - but it's still nice to know about the work order, and so he moves the email to the folder where he keeps similarly worded messages from the team that manages the building.

The email from Kaori is unusual; she doesn't usually work with him.

But considering the circumstances, it's hardly a surprise, and with a bit of a wince, Izuku clicks it open and quickly scans over the contents.

Somehow, it's both better and worse than he expected.

Heroes Deku and Shouto, it reads.

In light of Shouto accidentally implying a sexual relationship between the two of you at the end of your latest joint interview, Honda and I have been brainstorming how best to course correct. So far, we've come up with several options:

1) We issue a joint statement where you both refute the relationship.

2) We issue a joint statement where you both confirm the relationship.

3) We say nothing and attempt to ignore the issue entirely.

Given the speed of the news cycle, this will likely take several weeks to blow over. You two are both incredibly popular young heroes, and as I've mentioned, there has been speculation on the nature of your relationship circling around hero forums for some time now. We have already received multiple calls for clarification, as well as an invitation to cohost from several podcasts, including the one run by your friends Kyouka Jirou and Denki Kaminari.

Should you wish to ignore this incident, some other event will almost certainly take precedence within a few days; doing nothing is always a viable option, and if you aren't certain how to handle the incident, this is the route I would encourage.

By issuing a formal statement, however, our hope is that we may speed the process along and cut back on the number of solicitations from fans to give them what I will politely dub "fan service". I've taken the liberty of not forwarding any of these messages on to you two directly, to preserve your peace of mind.

Please discuss this between yourselves and give us your opinion as soon as possible.

Best,

Kaori Sakamoto

Izuku gives the proposal a grand total of two minutes and forty-three seconds of thought before he caves and facetimes Shouto.

"Izuku," his friend protests, as soon as he accepts the call. "I was taking a nap."

"You're always taking a nap," Izuku retorts. "But whatever, grab some tea or something. We have more important things to discuss than your sleep schedule!"

Shouto barely stifles a yawn, rubbing his face against his pillow. "Do we, though?"

"Have you read Kaori's email?"

Shouto makes another very cute, very sleepy noise, his eyes going distant as his fingers glide across the phone's screen to pull up his inbox. Izuku gives him several minutes to find and read the email, during which time he tries his absolute best not to vibrate right off the bed.

He fears it's a losing battle.

"Okay. I've read the email."

Izuku perks up. "Yeah?"

"What do you want to do?"

"You're… you're asking me?"

Shouto snorts, amused. "You called me, Midoriya. I figured that meant you had a plan worked out."

"Well, I… Kaori's suggestions seem like a pretty good start. Confirming, denying, or ignoring the relationship are pretty much our only options."

"Which would you prefer?"

"…I mean, I don't want to lie to people. And it's not like we're, you know - actually sleeping together, so that takes confirming a relationship off the table." Absentmindedly rubbing at his chin, he adds, "But should we ignore the implications or deny it outright? Denying it would probably just make some of the more hardcore tododeku stans double down -"

Shouts blinks at him rather owlishly. "Tododeku stans…?"

"Our shippers," Izuku supplies.

"Our… what?"

"But then again, completely ignoring what you said kinda looks like an admission of guilt - or maybe like you said it by accident, like we didn't want people to know? I mean, after watching the footage, I don't think it was that bad - we've absolutely had more incriminating moments! But our fans are pretty, um, let's say intense, and some of them have latched onto what you said super hard. I think it's gonna be next to impossible to convince people otherwise at this point, so like, should we even try? Or would that just be fanning the flames or making things worse -"

"Midoriya."

Izuku's mouth snaps shut with an audible click.

"I didn't understand any of that."

"…ah. Well. That's unfortunate. I don't think I can remember everything I said."

"Can you… try to start over? From the beginning?"

Izuku sighs. "That's probably for the best."

In much calmer, more certain terms, Izuku relays their situation to Shouto; he does his best to explain the concept of a ship, and also the idea that the two of them have legions of fans who are hoping that he and Shouto are completely, disgustingly, one hundred percent in love, and while Shouto kind of frowns at this revelation, he also doesn't… seem very concerned?

Like, he doesn't seem terribly put off by the idea of the two of them being secret lovers or people celebrating the two of them being romantically involved, which -

Is a good thing? Maybe?

It's definitely not a bad turn of events, and Izuku files the information away for later, when he's got a little more time to really think on it and isn't quite so deeply entrenched in crisis mode.

For now though, he focuses on finishing up his explanation as succinctly as he can and takes a deep, deep breath to restore the supply of oxygen actually getting to his brain.

"So," he asks, tentative, "what do you think?"

Shouto sighs, pushing the hair back from his forehead; though he'd kept it short for those first few years after high school, it's long since gotten away from him again. His sideswept bangs bleed pink in the center, that stark middle part no longer quite as distinct as it had been when they were younger; the ends just barely brush his shoulders when he lets it all hang loose, and though he complains a lot about needing to get it cut, Izuku's starting to suspect he likes the way his hair frames his face.

To be frank, Izuku does too.

It's absolutely ridiculous how stunning this slightly wilder, messier hairstyle makes him look, even just laying around in bed as he is, and Izuku chokes out a wheeze and tries to pass it off as a cough.

"I agree with you that people are going to believe what they want to believe, regardless of what we say," Shouto murmurs. "And I don't think denying it would really do much good at this point. The magazines all seem… pretty invested."

Izuku snorts and mutters a shaky "You have no idea," under his breath.

"I suppose we should just… ignore it, then? Decline to comment?"

"If you… if that's what you want."

Shouto's gaze goes a little stern. "Izuku."

"Ugh, I know, sorry. I know it's something we need to decide together. I'm just - I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything, and I don't want to make things any worse. I'm kinda frazzled."

"…because of what I said?"

"Um, maybe. Yeah."

Shouto's frown turns into a grimace, the shift so slight that Izuku's certain most people wouldn't even notice the change - just the tiniest bit of tightening around his eyes, his lips.

Izuku is not most people.

"I'm sorry," Shouto says quietly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"That's not - you didn't know."

"That's no excuse."

"It… kinda is, though? I mean, it's not like you were being a jerk about it! It wasn't a bad joke! And I know you were just trying to answer the question -"

"I told the media we were having sex."

Izuku rolls over and promptly buries his head in his blankets, trying to erase the way the word sex sounds in Shouto's mouth from his memory banks.

It does not work.

"Is it… that bad of an idea?"

The question brings Izuku back to his senses.

"What?" he chokes out.

Shouto's not looking at his phone anymore, his gaze somewhere just left of center. Though his expression is very carefully neutral, Izuku can tell from his tone of voice that he's feeling a little uncertain, unsure of whether or not Izuku is trying to tell him something he maybe doesn't want to hear, and that's -

"Is the thought of being with me that way so unappealing?"

For once in his life, Izuku considers his next words very carefully instead of just spitting out whatever comes to mind first.

Because they've never talked about this, yeah?

In all of the time they've spent together, they've never broached the subject of sex and sexuality and relationships - mostly because they were fighting a war the better part of their first year and a half in high school, and then spent the rest of it picking up the pieces and helping to rebuild, but also because he's never actually gotten absolute, verbal confirmation that Shouto was super interested in people that way?

Like, it's not a topic that Shouto's ever brought up on his own, even when the rest of their classmates had started messing around with one another and dating, and so Izuku's always just assumed that Shouto was… asexual, maybe, or perhaps aromantic. Somewhere along that spectrum.

Which is maybe a little presumptuous of him!

Some people are just private, after all, and don't like talking about those sorts of things with other people. It doesn't necessarily mean Shouto's disinterested in sex or romance in general -

And even if he was, there's nothing wrong with that.

There's nothing abnormal about not feeling those sorts of things for other people, and Izuku wants to make sure that Shouto knows that. He wants to respect his orientation, if that's indeed where he sits on that particular bell-shaped curve, which is another reason why he's never really tried to force the issue. He would never want to be insensitive or pushy.

But on the off chance that Shouto does feel those sorts of things for other people, and that his question is driven more by his own insecurities than discomfort with the idea…

"Shouto," he says quietly. "Of course it's not."

Shouto says nothing, eyes stubbornly downcast.

"You know that, right? You know that anyone would be incredibly lucky to date you, or… be with you, in that kind of capacity. You're incredible. You're gentle, and kind, and -"

Shouto inhales sharply, the video shaking a little bit as his hand trembles.

"Anyone would be lucky to have you," Izuku says again, a little quieter.

"You don't want people thinking we're together, though."

"I don't want people to get the wrong impression," Izuku corrects, his voice firm despite the blush that blooms red and hot across his cheeks, "because that isn't fair to you. It makes our relationship seem like something it's not, and if you ever find someone that you do want to date -"

"There isn't."

"What?"

"There isn't anyone else I want to date."

Izuku tries not to think too hard on that - on the fact that Shouto said anyone else and hadn't just left it completely open-ended. He tries, desperately, not to read into it.

"O-okay," he says, nodding. "You don't want to date anyone right now. But if you did -"

"I won't."

"- I wouldn't want people to speak badly of you because they think you've already got something going on with me."

"…ah."

"Do you… understand what I'm trying to say?"

Hesitantly, Shouto nods. His eyes dart very briefly back to the screen before resettling on his blanket, and then he says, "It's the same for you, isn't it?"

Izuku blinks.

"If you wanted to date someone, you wouldn't want people thinking you're with me."

"I… suppose not, no."

"Because it would be misleading."

"Exactly."

Shouto nods again. He looks a little more certain of himself this time, and after a brief interlude where he leans away from the camera to take a drink of water, he clears his throat and looks Izuku right in the eye.

"We ignore it, then," he says. "We pretend that I didn't say anything, and if any interviewers seem like they want to ask about it, we steer the conversation in a different direction."

"Yeah, that's - that's a good strategy, actually. I should write that down."

Shouto huffs out his amusement as Izuku dutifully flips over to his notes app, jotting down the other's suggestion as quickly as he can.

"Okay, so - deflect, deflect, deflect. I can do that, and you're practically an expert."

"I feel like I should be offended by that."

"You aren't."

"You're right. I'm not."

Then, thinking of something else, Shouto frowns.

"And what if they ask us outright?" he asks. "Do we just… ignore the question? Refuse to talk at all? Because I can do that, but it doesn't really fit your image."

"Huh? Oh. Well, yeah, in that case we probably have to give them something." He pauses to think, one hand coming up to cradle his chin as he mumbles his way through his thoughts. "Not anything definitive, obviously, and we don't have to be super serious with it. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer, that sort of thing. Maybe we can just - oh! I've got it!"

Izuku lets all the muscles in his face go slack, and his eyes go dead.

It's with as bored a tone he can possibly muster as he intones, "We have no comment at this time, thank you," very much channeling the standard response Shouto had started parroting for any and all Todoroki family-related questions from the media sometime in their second year, and Shouto's eyes narrow.

"Are you making fun of me?"

Izuku yelps, feigning indignation. "What?! No!"

"You are."

He grins, caught. "Shouto, I would never -"

"I'm hanging up now."

"No, no, no, don't do that!"

"I'm going back to my nap."

"We still need to respond to Kaori's email -"

The call ends with a soft little click.

And sure enough, the world moves on.

Villains and criminals continue to commit misdeeds, heroes continue to catch them and foil their plans, and the news cycle captures and reports on it all.

By the end of the month, the gossip that Shouto Todoroki and Izuku Midoriya are secretly fucking is old news. Izuku goes from seeing the headline on every other tabloid at the newsstand, all the most popular trending videos on HeroTube, to just the ones known for peddling conspiracy theories, and he hasn't gotten shit for it in the class group chat for at least a week, thank goodness -

But he forgets something.

He forgets about the fact that he and Shouto are actually moving in together, because he's been so incredibly busy doing this latest interview series and taking down the slew of petty thefts and crime that always pop up this time of year that he hasn't really stopped to think about the fact that his lease is expiring at the end of the month, and so when Uraraka brings it up one morning over coffee, her brown eyes sly with suggestion, Izuku chokes.

He spits out his latte, spewing hot coffee and milk all over the table, and despairs.

"Oh, my god," he manages to grit out, grabbing hastily for some napkins to clean up the mess. "Oh god, oh fuck, I forgot about that -"

"You two are moving pretty fast, huh?"

"We're not - for the last time, we are just friends!"

"Mmhmm, sure. Friends who work together, spend all their free time together - and also, apparently, even live together."

"He has the extra room," Izuku protests. "Shouto has the space, and - and my apartment is awful, you know it is, that sink has never worked correctly, and his is just closer to the agency!"

Uraraka nods as she follows along. "All fringe benefits."

"We've been planning this for months."

"I'm sure you have."

"Uraraka!"

Uraraka, the traitor, just laughs and swipes up the dirty napkins to toss in the bin, taking pity on him when she reaches over to wipe some stray foam from his cheek.

"I'm just messing with you, Deku," she teases. "I know that you and Todoroki aren't together."

Izuku breathes in deep, relieved to be moving on -

"But you do realize that moving in together isn't going to help the rumors any, right?"

- only to promptly slump back down in his chair as the reality of the situation sinks in.

"…yeah. I know."

Uraraka shakes her head and takes a sip of her cappuccino. "How's Todoroki taking it?"

Izuku groans. "He's… fine, I guess. Honestly, I don't really think he pays that much attention to the rumor mill; he only even notices the way people stop and stare at us when I point it out, and even then, he just - assumes he has food on his face, or something."

"That is… precious."

"Terrible. The word you're looking for is terrible, I can't take it -"

"Does he ask you to wipe it off for him?"

"…sometimes. If he, you know, actually has something on his face."

Uraraka coos at him in delight, clutching her hands together; Izuku doesn't have the heart to tell her to knock it off, not when she looks so excited about the prospect of Izuku brushing stray grains of rice off his best friend's cheeks, and so he just clears his throat and tries to move the conversation along.

"Did I ever tell you that he didn't even know what friends with benefits are?"

Now it's Uraraka's turn to choke on her drink; she hastily beats a fist against her chest to try and clear the scalding liquid from her throat, shooting Izuku an incredulous look as she sets her mug to the side.

"You're kidding me, right? Please, tell me you're joking."

Izuku shakes his head.

"Todoroki didn't know what that means?"

"He, ah… thought it was something else, actually."

"What else could it possibly mean?!"

Izuku's smile is brittle.

"Apparently, it's code for when you share your Netflix password with someone."

"Oh, my god -"

"Or when you trust them enough to keep your plants alive."

Uraraka claps her hands to her cheeks; she emits a shrill sort of whistling noise Izuku is pretty certain only tea kettles are capable of making, and then grabs his hand, excited.

"But you explained it to him, right? You told him what it really means?"

Izuku extracts his hand from her (frankly, crushing) grip as quickly as he can, moving it back beneath the table so she won't get any more brilliant ideas.

His fingers have suffered enough over the years, thank you very much.

"Yeah, we told him what it means. Me and his PR manager, that is."

"Oh, hell, I didn't even think about that - god, can you imagine? What a nightmare!" Still grinning, Uraraka shakes her head and adds, "I hope your agency is paying her well."

"I think Shouto was… kind of embarrassed when we told him the truth."

Uraraka's face falls. "Aw, no!"

"I mean, it's hard to tell, because he'd never come right out and say that, but…" Izuku trails off, recalling how stiff Shouto's shoulders had gone, how he'd been very, very quiet the rest of the day and eventually gone home alone instead of waiting for Izuku like he normally did, so they could take the train together. "I could tell it made him feel pretty stupid."

"Well, sure," Uraraka agrees. "I'd feel pretty stupid, too."

She sits back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Her grin's faded away to something more contemplative, brows furrowing as she works through a thought, and sure enough, after a few moments of quiet, she asks, "Did you guys… talk about it, at all?"

Instantly, Izuku gets a little defensive.

He has to put forth real effort not to hunch his shoulders up as Uraraka's eyes flit back to him, and when he finally answers, it's nothing more than a deflection.

"Talk about what?"

Sure enough, Uraraka's eyes narrow. "Don't play dumb with me, Deku," she snaps. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

And like, yeah.

He does.

He knows what she's getting at, knows that she's asking him whether or not this chat they'd had about the concept of a friend with benefits had led to a deeper, more pertinent conversation on the topic of feelings, and intimacy, and what he's pretty sure is actual, unconditional love.

She's the only one who knows how he really feels about Shouto, after all, the only one who knows that Izuku Midoriya is entirely fucking gone for his best friend -

Or, well.

She's the only person he's actually told about the crush he has on the guy; everyone else in their friend group has just kind of picked up on his feelings and started giving him shit for it in the group chat along the way, and honestly?

That feels kinda mean!

It feels kinda insensitive, not so great of them, and also like he's been singled out for punishment, which - sure, he probably deserves it. At least a little, for keeping all those big, gooey feelings for Todoroki bottled up inside for ten years instead of just talking to him.

He is at least sixty percent to blame for his own problems.

But the other forty percent remains solidly outside of his control, and so he just sighs and says, "Of course we haven't talked about it, Uraraka. He was mortified by the mix-up." Huffing out a breath, he adds, "I mean, what was I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, Shouto, while we're on the subject, I actually wanna kiss you really badly, and maybe also marry you and have your babies, are you game?"

"Sure. That works."

"Uraraka!"

"It's a little on the nose, but hey. Whatever gets your point across."

"I am not asking Shouto to have sex with me."

Uraraka clicks her tongue. "Shame."

"Not in a hundred million years -"

"Then you'll, what, just be lonely the rest of your life? Is that what you want?"

Izuku freezes up a bit at that; he shuffles around in his chair, looking down at his clenched fists to hide the way tears suddenly prick his eyes.

Because it's not anything he hasn't already told himself.

It's not like he hasn't talked himself in circles about his feelings at this point; he's gone over the pro's and con's of confessing so many times now, he could practically recite the list in his sleep, and he is very, very aware of the fact that between him and Shouto, he's gonna have to be the one to make the first move.

Because while he's always been rather blunt, Shouto just isn't the type to blurt his feelings out like that; getting him to express himself is a bit like pulling teeth, even now. It takes a herculean amount of both time and effort, and even if he was in the mood to be forthcoming - well, all of that assumes he feels the same way as Izuku in the first place.

And again, he might not!

He might not like anyone that way, and the last thing Izuku wants to do is make him uncomfortable by bringing it up. That would be incredibly awkward, and could potentially cause irreparable damage to their friendship, and so Izuku doesn't want to take any chances.

But at the same time, Uraraka isn't wrong.

It's not incorrect for her to point out that if he doesn't speak up, he has no room to complain when he doesn't get what he really wants, and like -

Izuku knows that.

He knows, dammit.

That doesn't make it any easier to deal with, though, and it definitely doesn't help with the way his chest kind of starts to ache whenever he looks at Shouto for too long these days.

Izuku takes a deep breath, pleased when it only shakes a little.

"Of course not," he replies. "Of course that isn't what I want."

Uraraka's expression softens. "Deku," she murmurs. "I… man, I really didn't mean for that to sound so harsh. I know you're in a tough spot."

Izuku nods, wiping at his eyes. He does know that.

"I just want you to be happy, you know? I want the best for you, and sometimes… well. Sometimes, you just don't seem very happy. Or at least, not as happy as you could be."

"I'm happy," he disagrees. When Uraraka just stares at him, he adds, "Really, I am! I just…"

"…wish it could be different?"

"Yeah. Fuck."

"Fuck," Uraraka agrees with a sigh. She reaches out and pats his hand, and this time, desperate for some comfort, Izuku doesn't shrink away. Instead, he clutches at her fingers maybe a little harder than he normally would, and lets her clutch him back just as hard.

"It's not all bad, you know," he murmurs after a few minutes of silence.

Uraraka perks up at that. "No?"

"I mean, yeah, moving in together is definitely gonna make the rumors worse, and I don't necessarily think it's gonna be easy living with the guy I'm kinda, sorta in love with -"

Uraraka snorts. "Kinda, sorta?"

"- but think of how much I'll save on energy bills, living with a human thermostat!"

Though she rolls her eyes, Uraraka giggles into her hand.

"Oh, wow. I'm definitely telling him you said that."

"He's so warm, Uraraka. All the time. It's amazing."

"And Todoroki?" she asks. "What's he get out of this arrangement, huh?"

Izuku thinks on it for a minute.

"Well," he finally says. "You know he isn't feeding himself very well, with that addiction to instant noodles he has, so… maybe I'll help bring his iron levels up or something with some home-cooked meals, reduce his sodium intake. Both good things to consider as we get older!"

"Deku. You guys are twenty-six."

"It's never too soon to start taking care of your health!"

Uraraka shakes her head, fond.

"You would see it that way," she sighs.

"Oh, c'mon," he whines. "Let me have this. Is a little optimism such a bad thing?"

"Sometimes, maybe." She smiles at him. "I think you get yourself into a lot of trouble thinking that way. But you know what, Deku?"

Izuku sniffles and looks up. "What?"

"I actually think I've got a good feeling about this."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Like it's definitely a little awkward, and I still think you might end up hurt, if you guys don't talk about this. But somehow…" She pauses and shakes her head. "I don't know. Maybe you're rubbing off on me here, but I just feel like everything's gonna work out for you all."

It's not much, all things considered; were they any less close than they actually are, or if Uraraka was someone else, Izuku might've written off the words as meaningless platitudes.

But Uraraka has always had a way of cheering him up when no one else could.

The way she gives Izuku's hand an encouraging little squeeze is endearing, as is the smile that stretches across her face, and when she leans forward and says, "Things'll get better, Deku - I know they will. Just you wait -"

Izuku believes her.

Sadly, despite Uraraka's predictions, things do not get better.

They get worse, actually, because when Izuku shows up at Shouto's apartment a few weeks later, moving truck in tow, he steps out of Bakugou's car only to find himself surrounded by a sea of reporters, microphones and cameras alike shoved in his face as he fights to make his way up onto the curb.

"Dude, how'd they know we were coming?" Kirishima demands. "How'd they know it was today? Doesn't this violate, like, every hero privacy law on the books?"

Bakugou, who'd taken one look at the crowd and immediately started glaring, huffs out an angry breath. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

"Yeah," he mutters. "It does."

Then, in a much louder, much angrier tone of voice, he yells, "Oy, dipshits!"

The crowd quiets, though the cameras don't stop rolling.

Bakugou takes this as an invitation to start grabbing the devices out of their hands and smashing them to the ground, throwing in an explosion every now and then for good measure, and while most of the reporters are smart enough to start backing away, a few aren't so savvy.

"This is private fucking property! You have no fucking right to be here!"

Iida, who'd hopped out of the moving truck and finally made his way over to the where the rest of them are standing, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, chops his arm through the air, and adds, "It's also a hazard to have more than ten people congregating in front of a fire hydrant like this. Please, step aside and allow us to form a two-meter wide path to the entrance!"

No one likes that.

The reporters grumble, probably because they can sense they're not gonna get much of a story here; they shuffle awkwardly from one foot to another, looking amongst themselves to see if anyone's brave enough to stand up to the wrath of Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

But alas, no one's quite that stupid, and after a few more moments of rather fraught, intense silence, the crowd disperses.

Izuku sighs, relieved. "Thanks, Kacchan. I didn't think they'd intrude like that."

"Fucking vultures," Bakugou spits.

Then, twisting towards Izuku, he snaps, "And you - what do you mean, you didn't think they'd show up? Are you stupid?"

"Well, like Kirishima said, they're not really supposed to be here -"

"Bump that shit. Paparazzi shots of you or Icyhot alone go for fifty thousand yen these days. A shot of the two of you together, especially now that the whole world thinks you're fucking?" Bakugou rolls his eyes, unamused. "Use your brain, Deku. Way too good to resist."

Izuku winces, hard.

But he can't really refute Bakugou's logic there, and so he settles for mumbling out another string of fervent apologies, both for the unexpected visitors and, well.

Everything else.

Predictably, that's when Shouto decides to make an appearance.

The automatic doors to the apartment complex gently swoosh open, the cool air just inside rushing out to meet them. Shouto trots out past the front desk, the (cutest, tiniest) ponytail he's pulled his hair back into bobbing with each step; his eyes dart to the crowd of reporters still fading away in the distance, lips parting in surprise, and when he glances back at Izuku -

"Did something happen?"

Bakugou snorts and grabs for one of the bags littering his car's backseat.

"Nothing unexpected," he says, throwing it over his shoulder and then reaching back inside for another. "Coulda used a little help with crowd control though, Icyhot. You too busy up there to help or something? Get lost in thought taking a shit?"

Shouto, as usual, completely ignores him.

Instead, he moves towards Izuku, putting a tentative hand on his elbow.

"Midoriya?"

The soft touch snaps Izuku to attention, and he shakes off his stupor with a grin.

"Don't worry about it," he advises. "It's just - well, you know how reporters are."

Understanding softens Shouto's features.

"They wanted to see us together," he guesses.

Kirishima, who'd been working on the boxes in the trunk, snorts out a laugh. "That's the money shot, man!" he says. "You and Midoriya, working up a sweat together? Big bucks."

"Fucking disgusting -"

"Katsuki, you really need to expand your vocabulary, if that's the only adjective you know."

"Oh, fuck you, Glasses!"

"Your lexicon of verbs need work too, it seems."

Waiting until the others have made it through the doors and gotten into the elevator, Shouto turns back to Izuku with a slightly pinched expression.

"I didn't think they'd be bold enough to show up to my apartment," he admits.

Not wanting Shouto to blame himself, Izuku waves a dismissive hand and motions him towards the moving truck.

"Neither did I," he replies, smiling up at his friend. "It's really nosy of them, and kinda invasive - but Kacchan's pretty persuasive when he wants to be! It didn't take too much convincing to get them to kick rocks."

Shouto snorts as Izuku hops up into the back, yanking on the lock keeping the door in place.

"Bakugou's good for something, I guess."

Izuku can't really argue with that -

And so he doesn't, reaching for the first box that he sees and hoisting it up into his arms.

"Here," he says, handing it over to Shouto, "take this one."

"Got it."

"It's not too much?"

Shouto shifts the box around in his arms, letting his limbs hang low so that he can still see what Izuku's doing. "I could probably take another."

Izuku nods, trying not to stare at the way the veins in Shouto's forearms stick out with the effort of keeping the box steady, or how big his hands are. Those thoughts are not helpful, not one bit, and frankly, neither is the way he stares up at Izuku, ready for direction; it takes an embarrassingly long time for Izuku's brain to come back online so he can find another box to hand over.

"Okay, um… how about this one? I think it's just clothes."

Shouto grunts as Izuku dumps the second container into his arms. But it doesn't seem like he's struggling with the weight as he heads back over to the apartment's entrance, and so Izuku quickly gets to work apportioning out the next stack of boxes to Kirishima, Bakugou, and Iida, now returned from their first trip up to the fourth floor.

Together, the five of them make short work of it.

Izuku doesn't really have all that much in the way of belongings; most of his hero collectibles are still in storage at his mother's house, and the furniture in his old place had come with the unit. The only big pieces he'd taken with him are his bed and computer desk, neither of which proves to be much of a problem for him and Kirishima to haul up the stairs, and the rest is easily managed by the others.

Still, Izuku buys them all lunch afterwards in thanks.

He takes them all to the little noodle shop down the street after they've put all his boxes in his room and re-assembled his bed, and though he kinda regrets it when he sees the sheer amount of soba Shouto and Kirishima manage to put away, he figures he really can't complain.

What's a hit to his wallet compared to friends like these?

Besides, he thinks, sheepishly ordering up another plate of fried gyoza - it's not like he's much better. They're all healthy young people with really strong quirks, quirks that take hundreds and hundreds of calories to power up, and the dumplings here are - really fucking good.

It's no wonder that Shouto visits three to four times a week, he thinks, and he can hardly complain about the company. He's a little reluctant to leave, actually, waving good-bye to Kirishima and Kacchan when they head out after the food, and Iida when he heads back to drop off the truck. He finds himself kinda apprehensive about being alone with Shouto, which -

Is a little weird, right?

Shouto is one of his oldest friends at this point, his very best friend.

They've spent the night together more times than Izuku can count, and while it's been completely and totally platonic, obviously, more two people crashing after a long assignment or falling asleep halfway through the required paperwork for a difficult mission than getting into bed together out of a desire for real, human connection, it's routine, nothing new.

But he's always had the option to leave before.

He's always had the ability to go home, to go back to a space that's just his. Add in the fact that he's now sharing an apartment with the man he's completely and totally in love with, and it's - well, it's a little fucking strange, he thinks, looking around the living room with a little trepidation.

While it's his throw blankets tossed carelessly across the back of the couch, and his hero posters now tacked up to the opposite wall, the simplistic, modern furniture is Shouto's. The stylish loafers at the door are his as well, as are the various plants lining the windowsill, and Izuku doesn't recognize any of the handful of books stacked on the shelves.

He'll get used to it, he knows.

In no time at all, he's sure that this place will feel like home the same way that the dorms back at school had; it'll stop feeling so foreign to him. He just -

"This is odd, isn't it?"

Izuku startles, looking over his shoulder to see Shouto standing awkwardly in the kitchen. He's got two glasses of water in his hands, one of which is starting to frost over from close contact with his right side, and something about the almost bashful way he's looking at Izuku is ridiculously endearing.

"Um, a little," Izuku allows, smiling.

Shouto snorts and pads across the room, handing over the non-icy glass.

"I don't know why, though."

"Mmm."

"I mean, I've been over here often enough; I know where everything is, and you're not, like - being unwelcoming?" Izuku waves a hand, dismissive. "Whatever! I'm sure I'll get over it eventually."

"Is there anything I can do? To make it seem more like home?"

Izuku smiles. "Eh, give it a few days. I'm sure I'll blend right in."

He takes a sip of water, giving the main living area another once-over; he makes note of a few little things he thinks he'd like to change, jots them down on a mental list to bring up with Shouto another day.

Longer curtains, maybe.

Perhaps a couple of candles, the kind that smell like cookies and happiness, and he definitely thinks that that odd little alcove by the bay window could be turned into a cozy reading nook.

Maybe the simple act of home improvement will be enough to make the space feel more like his, like it's something for both of them instead of just Shouto, and so he twists back around, curious.

"It's not just me, right?" he asks. "Like, you feel it too?"

Shouto nods. "Yeah. Kinda."

"Weird! I wonder why…"

"Is it maybe because the rest of Japan seems to think we're checking off items on the list of things to do before we inevitably get engaged, married, and adopt two-point-five children?"

Izuku chokes on the sip of water he'd taken.

He sprays it all over Shouto's face, and also his shirt, and then, completely mortified, smacks a hand over his mouth so hard it stings.

"You know," Shouto says slowly, blinking water out of his eyes. "I think I deserved that."

Izuku can't help it - he laughs. It just kinda bubbles out of him, quiet little giggles giving way to louder, less contained laughter that has him blinking away tears. It's also contagious, Shouto's soft chuckles joining his a moment later, and by the time they're both finished, the strange tension has broken.

It's evaporated, completely disappearing as they settle onto the couch and Izuku whips out the list of potential house rules he'd spent the better part of the last week or so devising.

"Just so it's not awkward!" he explains, carefully setting his remaining water on the coffee table.

Less likely to be accidentally aspirated that way, he figures.

Bemused, Shouto curls his legs up underneath him. "If you say so."

"I just want to make sure we're on the same page about everything. Just because we lived in the same dorm in high school and we're best friends now doesn't mean this is gonna be easy -"

"Again. If you say so."

"Okay, so, first things first - I do laundry twice a week, because I accidentally spill things a lot and one load just isn't enough, so… oh! And I definitely won't use your stuff; I can't use scented soaps or fabric softeners because they irritate my skin."

"…I don't think I even own fabric softener."

Izuku blinks. "Really? You just… throw your clothes in the washer and hope for the best?"

"I do know about detergent, Izuku."

"Right, right!" Izuku clears his throat. "Okay, well, that's easy enough then. I'll just - yeah."

Shouto takes pity on him and nudges his shin with his foot. "There's a dryer in the main bathroom, but I generally don't bother. Use it whenever. I can dry my own clothes faster with my quirk -"

"Really?! That's - that's so cool!"

"It's hot, actually."

Izuku blinks.

"That was terrible, even for you," he says with a polite cough.

Shouto, bless him, just shrugs. "I liked it."

"Okay, so awful laundry puns aside - I'll just try to find days when you don't need the washer and do my laundry then, and like I said, I always use my own stuff, so I won't touch yours."

"Sounds good."

"What's your normal cleaning routine look like?"

Like this, they spend the next hour or so working through the rest of Izuku's list; they discuss everything from cleaning to cooking to Shouto's opinions on seasonally scented air fresheners (pro) and kitschy little dish towels decorated with dancing spatulas and friendly greetings (strongly against - unless the decorations are cat-themed, and then very much for), and by the time Izuku gets to the last few items on his list, he's starting to feel really good about this. He really feels like this is going to work out well, just as he'd known it would -

Which is probably why the last bullet point on his list hits him so hard, actually.

It's like a punch to the gut, even though he knows it's something they need to discuss, and also that he's purposefully saved this one for last because he's a giant wimp, and so he takes a deep, steadying breath before he glances up and asks, "Okay, so… how do you feel about overnight guests?"

Shouto blinks. "Like family coming in from out of town?"

Izuku winces. "Um, not exactly."

"Who else would want to stay the night here?"

"Ah, well, you know. People."

"…people."

"The kind you encounter out and about, the ones you want to, um - invite in for a cup of coffee?"

"If that's some kind of euphemism, I don't get it."

Izuku groans and buries his face in his hands.

"Oh, for - Shouto," he finally manages. "I'm asking how you want to handle it if either of us wants to bring someone back here to hook up with."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"…well, you could have just said that."

"Oh, my god, I did say that - but you know what? It doesn't matter how we got to this point; what matters is that we're here, and we're gonna discuss this like adults, so -" He waves a hand, completely red in the face. "- how do you want to deal with that sort of thing?"

He says this all in a rush, so quickly it's a miracle Shouto understands him at all.

But Shouto just nods, utterly used to Izuku's tendency towards incoherence when he gets even the slightest bit agitated, and clears his throat. He looks a little pink in the cheeks himself.

"I don't think that will be a problem for me," he murmurs, looking down at the couch cushions.

"…because you don't…mind?" Izuku guesses. "It doesn't bother you?"

"It's your home, too. I want you to be comfortable here."

It's not really an answer to his question.

If anything, it kinda sounds like Shouto is avoiding giving him any kind of meaningful response at all, and the way he won't meet Izuku's gaze doesn't help.

But Izuku doesn't press him on it, too embarrassed to really push.

"Right!" he says instead, nodding furiously. "Of course -"

"And I don't -" Shouto breaks off with a wince. He tries again a moment later, his voice a little rough. "I don't expect you to stop seeing people just because we live together now. That - wouldn't be fair of me."

"Oh. Oh, well, I'm not - I'm not seeing anyone, Shouto."

Shouto peeks up at him through his bangs, looking strangely apprehensive.

"I don't really have all that much time to date, and even if I did… well, I wouldn't necessarily bring people here, not without - not without your consent."

"Then why ask me how I feel about it?" Shouto asks, frowning.

Izuku squints a little. "I mean, it's just common decency, isn't it?" he muses. "You wouldn't want me walking in on you either, right?"

"…I guess not."

"And I wouldn't want you to feel out of place in your home, or like you couldn't be here because I was already - which is why I just wanted to ask! Like, hypothetically speaking, totally just talking hypotheticals here -"

Shouto clears his throat, blushing hard, and saves him from his rambling.

"Doors, they - doors."

Izuku blinks. "Doors?"

"They… close?" Shouto offers.

Then, realizing that doesn't make a lick of sense, he groans and adds, "Maybe we just have a rule where if a door is shut, the other person doesn't come in."

"Oh. Oh! Right, okay, that's - that's a good rule!"

"Add it to your list."

Izuku does, if only to give himself something to do with his hands. He jots it down, and then glances back up at Shouto, who's still got that odd, almost anxious gleam in his eyes.

Something about that strikes Izuku as… not quite right, and so he reaches out a hand, taps at Shouto's ankle.

"Hey," he says, quiet. "I'm sorry."

Shouto blinks. "For what?"

"I know we've never really talked about this sort of thing before, and you - you're obviously kinda uncomfortable, and if it's something that I said, I'm - I'm sorry, Shouto."

Shouto makes a frustrated face, smoothed over so quickly Izuku almost misses it.

"That's not - no."

"No?"

"I'm not uncomfortable."

"Oh! Well, that's - good to hear, I guess -"

"And I want you to be happy, because you're my friend, so if - if bringing people back here would make you happy, I want you to feel like you can do that. I want you to get to have - that with someone, even if I'm not…"

Izuku kinda feels like he can't breathe all of a sudden.

Because is this it, he wonders? Is this when he gets confirmation that no, actually, Shouto isn't interested in that sort of thing - not in romance, generally, or Izuku, specifically?

He thinks it might be, but Shouto's fallen silent again, struggling to put his thoughts to words.

"Even if you're not what?" he eventually prompts, holding very, very still.

Shouto exhales out a shaky breath and says, a little pained, "Not very good at saying it."

Oh.

Oh, that's - that's not the same thing at all, is it?

That's not really an admission of anything, except maybe that Shouto doesn't particularly seem to like the thought of Izuku hooking up with people for some reason, even as he says it's fine, which -

Wow.

Wow, wow, wow, Izuku does not know what to do with that; he doesn't even know how to start -

"Okay," he says slowly, trying his best not to shout. "Okay, that's - thanks, Shou. I appreciate that."

Shouto makes a noncommittal noise and shoves his head in his arms.

"I… want that for you too, you know? I want you to be happy, too." Scooting a little closer, Izuku puts his hand on Shouto's shoulder, gives it a gentle shake. "I want you to have someone you care about, if that's something that you want -"

To his surprise, Shouto looks up.

He stares at Izuku, unflinching, and says, "I care about you."

The words feel heavy.

They feel significant, like Shouto's trying to tell him something.

Izuku's not really certain whether he should read into that or not, still very wary of jumping to conclusions; he flounders longer than he probably should in a desperate bid to not appear too eager, but just as he opens his mouth to ask, to see if he can get some further clarification -

"That's good enough for me," Shouto says, looking away.

The moment breaks.

It splinters, and Izuku kinda deflates like a worn out balloon. He's too tired for this, he thinks; he is both physically and mentally exhausted after a hard week of patrols, moving across the city, and then not-so-subtly asking his best friend and secret crush if he's gonna come home one day to find a sock wrapped around his doorknob, all sorts of indecent noises spilling out from the cracks underneath, and so he just nods and sinks back into the couch cushions, defeated.

Next time, he tells himself. The next chance he gets, he'll speak up.

For now, he just wants to get things back to some kind of equilibrium, some state of calm.

He just wants to enjoy this moment, without his big, pesky feelings getting in the way of what is, objectively, a happy day for the both of them -

Which is probably why when Shouto clears his throat and suggests they watch that new All Might documentary that just came out, he's all for it. He eagerly latches onto the suggestion, pulling down all the throw blankets and making a cozy little nest while Shouto queues everything up and makes some popcorn, and by the time they've settled back down in the couch, pressed close together so they can share theories and excited whispers, the air feels almost normal again.

It feels good, to be sitting right next to Shouto like this, their fingers tangling up every time they reach for a handful of popcorn at the same time, knees and elbows knocking together whenever one of them makes too sudden a movement.

It's perfect, Izuku thinks.

It's so very close to what he's always wanted.

And if this is good enough for Shouto, he thinks, swallowing down the hot lump that forms in his throat whenever he looks sideways and sees Shouto's profile, softened in the dim blue light of the television, then he supposes it'll just have to be good enough for him, too.

It'll just have to do.

"Alright, Deku. Enough's enough."

Izuku looks up at Bakugou, wary, and swallows down the mouthful of noodles he'd just inhaled.

"What's enough?" he asks.

"Tell me what the fuck's going on with you and Icyhot."

Very much against his will, Izuku recalls how Todoroki had shuffled into their kitchen that morning, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a shirt that was three sizes too big for either of them; he remembers the way Shouto had come up behind him and set his chin on Izuku's shoulder, watching sleepily as Izuku made the two of them breakfast, and also how very, very badly Izuku had wanted to twist his head to the side, push his bangs out of the way, and kiss his stupid face.

Instead, he'd handed Shouto a cup of coffee, and the pleased sound that had earned him will stick with him until the end of his days, for sure.

But he's not just about to tell Bakugou that.

Of course not.

Mostly because Kacchan will give him so much shit for it, but also because there really isn't anything going on between them, no matter how much Izuku might wish it otherwise.

There's just nothing to tell, even after two months of living together -

Which he says, obviously, in as firm a tone as he can muster.

It still falls on deaf ears.

"Bullshit. You're in love with the bastard, aren't you?"

Izuku wilts and sets his chopsticks aside.

"If you already knew, why bother asking?" he mutters, unable to resist pouting a bit.

"Because I wanted to hear you say it, and you needed to admit it," Bakugou snaps. "It's good to say difficult shit out loud, you know."

Izuku rolls his eyes. "Your therapist tell you that?"

"Yeah, actually. She fucking did." Bakugou spears his chopsticks through a dumpling, glaring at Izuku as he shoves it into his mouth. Then, looking terribly smug, he adds, "You should tell him, by the way."

"I… I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the fuck not?"

Izuku sighs. "Kacchan -"

"No," Bakugou interjects. "Don't you fucking 'Kacchan' me, Deku - you know I'm right."

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it fucking is."

"I can't just - waltz up to Shouto and tell him I love him! Are you kidding me?!"

"Of course not. You shouldn't waltz up to anybody -"

"Oh, my god, it was just an expression."

"- because it's a weird way to dance, and no one's that fucking gay."

Izuku groans and buries his face in his hands.

"You should tell him you like him, though. Before we all die of old age, preferably."

"Why do you even care?"

Bakugou grunts and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Got a bet going with Shitty Hair," he replies. "I've got five thousand yen on the two of you getting your crap together before we're thirty, and if you make me lose to that shithead -"

"That shithead is literally your boyfriend."

Bakugou blinks at him. "So?"

"So, you should be nicer to the people you care about," Izuku huffs. "And also not bet on their love lives. That's kinda rude, Kacchan, even for you."

Bakugou rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't have to bet, if either of you two idiots would just fess up."

"You know, you seem awfully convinced that Shouto returns my feelings."

"Yeah. Because he does."

"He does not -"

"Excuse you very fucking much, but you haven't seen the two of you in a room together, or had to watch the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention. It's indecent."

Izuku sputters, even though this time, he hasn't so much as looked at his drink.

"Excuse me?" he gasps.

"It's all soft and shit, like you're his favorite everything. Makes me wanna vomit."

Despite himself, Izuku frowns.

Because that…

That can't be right, can it?

If Shouto had ever looked at him that way, Izuku's certain he would have noticed; he's a pretty observant person, after all, and he likes to think he's pretty emotionally intelligent. He's good at reading the room.

But then again, Shouto's maybe his one and only blind spot.

That's maybe the one area where he hasn't paid too much attention, too nervous at what he might (or might not) find written all over his best friend's face, and so maybe…

Maybe Bakugou isn't wrong here.

Tentatively, he looks up; Bakugou's dug out his phone while Izuku was lost in his thoughts, the way he's looking down at the screen almost fond. He taps out a message too fast for Izuku to really track, and when he sets it aside, his expression's gone a little soft around the edges.

"Do you… do you really think he likes me back?" Izuku asks, his voice small.

"Pretty sure he loves you back, nerd," Kacchan says, and oh -

How Izuku wants that to be true.

The only thing he thinks he's ever wanted more was to be a hero, to put on his best smile and help protect people, but since he's already gotten that wish… well, it seems a little rude to ask for more. It seems kinda ungrateful to ask for a second miracle.

"Why are you so convinced he doesn't?" Bakugou asks suddenly, changing tack.

"What?"

Red eyes roll spectacularly. "You heard me."

Izuku makes a vague sort of gesture, hoping Bakugou will somehow understand what he's trying to say. He's smart like that, Izuku thinks, smarter than Izuku himself is a lot of the time, even when he sometimes jumps to the wrong conclusion. If anyone could take a look at him and figure out what he means without him having to verbalize it, it's Kacchan.

But today is not one of those times.

No.

Today, Bakugou is going to make him talk, because he's either fed up with Izuku's inaction or, like he'd said earlier, it's good to say that sort of thing out loud, and so Izuku gives up with a resigned shrug.

"Shouto is… special, I guess," he explains. "He's different than other people. He's been through so much in his life, so much crap that he should never have had to deal with, and yet - you'd never know it, right? Because he's still so kind to other people, so compassionate. He's so good, Kacchan. He is… incredible, one of the absolute best people I know, and don't you dare say that's too fucking gay -"

"Nah. That's just corny."

Izuku sighs. "Sometimes, I look at him and it feels like I can't breathe, like - like if I don't tell him how I really feel, I'm gonna give myself an ulcer or something. I still might, actually, because when I think of someone like that ever wanting to be with someone like me…" He shakes his head. "I mean, look at me."

Bakugou snorts, though it isn't unkind.

"The fuck does that mean?" he demands.

"You know what I mean -"

"Yeah, and it's fucking dumb. You're too hard on yourself, Deku. You always have been."

"I know that," Izuku allows with a wince. "I know it, and I'm - I'm a lot better than I used to be. I'm working on it. But come on, Kacchan - why would he pick me? I mean, what can I possibly offer him that someone else can't?"

"Nothing."

Izuku's brows go sky-high, an incredulous laugh spilling from his lips. "What?"

"You're right," Bakugou admits. "There's nothing you have that a hundred other fucking morons out there couldn't also give him. Your quirk, maybe - but there's new abilities popping up everyday, and you're not gonna have One for All forever. It's gonna fade over time."

"…I thought you were trying to cheer me up. This is doing the opposite of that."

"I'm not fucking finished yet."

"Okay."

Bakugou huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "The point is, Deku, that you're thinking about this all wrong - because yeah, Todoroki could probably date anyone he fucking wanted. He's rich and pretty and really fucking good at being a hero, which we both know is more than enough to have people lining up at the door for a show."

He shifts then, his expression serious. Izuku doesn't dare interrupt.

"None of that matters though," he continues. "It doesn't matter a single fucking bit, and you know why?"

"…why?"

"Because the bastard loves you."

Izuku gets, like, a little choked up at that.

"He wants you, Izuku - because you showed him it was okay to be himself, to be more than just his bastard dad's fucking legacy. And that's worth more than any money or status or fame you could ever give him."

He tears up and starts to quietly sob into his napkin just as their bewildered server comes back by their table with the bill; Bakugou practically shoves his card in her face to get her to go away, and after she's walked back over to the service station to ring them up, he throws a wad of tissues at Izuku.

"Clean your fucking face. We're in public."

"Kacchan," Izuku sobs, overcome.

"Shut up, nerd. I don't wanna hear it."

"That was so nice of you, what the fuck -"

"I said I don't wanna hear it!"

Izuku sniffles, rather grossly, and obediently wipes at his face.

He manages to (mostly) pull himself back together by the time their server comes back with Bakugou's card, and after they gather up their things, he feels a little more in control of his emotions.

Which is good, actually, because true to his word, Kacchan really wasn't finished.

"You know, Icyhot's probably got some hang-ups of his own."

Startled, Izuku nearly trips over the sidewalk. "What?"

"Don't be dense," Bakugou snaps, fisting a hand in the back of his shirt and tugging him back upright. "You saw how fucked up his sense of self-esteem was in high school."

And it hits Izuku like a ton of bricks.

Because that is -

A good point.

It's one that Izuku hadn't really considered, even as he'd had a front-row seat to Shouto's very startled, very unsettling realization that the rest of the class didn't call him pretty boy for nothing. Before that, he'd seemed to be under the impression that no one really found him attractive, which is - patently untrue, Izuku thinks, both then and now. Shouto's always been one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen, and that hasn't changed as he's grown into his looks and experimented with his style.

But just because Izuku thinks that doesn't mean Shouto thinks it of himself.

Combined with his quiet, introverted nature and all of the family baggage practically spilling out of the Todoroki closet, and what Bakugou's saying makes a good deal of sense.

Maybe he doesn't think he'd be a good partner.

Maybe he's convinced he isn't boyfriend material, even if he's one of the gentlest, most genuine people that Izuku knows, and what was that Shouto had asked him all these months ago, back when they'd first found themselves in this messed up situation with the media? If the thought of being with him romantically was such an awful idea?

The thought's a little sad.

It also makes Izuku think on the situation a little harder, if only to try and see it from Shouto's perspective, and what he sees isn't entirely flattering.

Because Kacchan is right, he realizes.

He's only been looking at this from his own side of things, and hasn't really considered any other points of view; he's been so caught up in thinking that he's not good enough for Shouto that he's maybe missed out on the fact that maybe Shouto doesn't think he's good enough for him.

In hindsight, it's almost glaringly obvious.

Like, Izuku knows about all of Shouto's insecurities.

He's been there, time and time again, to help him rebuild his sense of self from the ground up, writing over the framework his father had built for him. He knows better than anyone how poorly Shouto had thought of himself those first few months in high school, and also that he genuinely doesn't seem to have a lot of experience with romance in general, which means...

Maybe it's less that Shouto doesn't like Izuku and more that he doesn't know what to do with all that want, or how to express that to Izuku in a way that makes sense and doesn't leave him feeling entirely out of his depth.

…Huh.

What a thought.

"I'm just saying," Bakugou continues, shoving his hands in his pockets, "You don't think you've got anything to offer him, nerd, but maybe he's thinking the exact same thing about you."

"I… I never thought about it that way before."

"That's because you're an idiot."

"Thank you, Kacchan."

Bakugou huffs out a breath and stops at the end of the road, tugging Izuku off to the side so they can say their good-byes here instead of in the middle of the train station. True to form, he brushes off Izuku's thanks with a glare and a half-hearted shrug, throwing up a hand to forestall the hug he knows is coming.

Unfortunately for him, Izuku's been the stronger of the two of them for at least eight years now.

He breaks through Kacchan's defenses easily, wrapping his arms around those broad shoulders and holding him tight, and though it earns him an ungracious pinch to the side, he laughs it off.

"Alright, alright," he says, backing away. "I'll let you off easy this time. I forgot that you're allergic to affection. I mean it, though - thank you. You've… you've given me a lot to think about."

"Don't thank me for telling you the truth," Bakugou mutters.

"It was something I needed to hear, though," Izuku protests. "You were right about that."

Bakugou clicks his tongue. "I'm always right, nerd."

Izuku's grin is impish, deceptively cheerful.

"Eh," he says. "I'd give you seventy-thirty, at best."

Bakugou prickles, shoulders hunching up towards his ears. "I hope you trip over your stupid shoelaces and eat pavement, shithead," he snaps, withering.

Izuku laughs, feeling lighter than he has all evening.

"Mmm. I hope you have a good night, too, Kacchan."

"Fucking kill me."

Now, Izuku hadn't forgotten about the conference.

How could he, when he's been getting reminder emails and push notifications from the organizers for the better part of the last three months?

Not that he really minds the barrage of messages -

Hero conferences are kind of his bread and butter; he absolutely loves waking up to a new email about vendors and keynote speakers and what time he can be expected to present his latest PowerPoint on hero safety protocols for heroes with strength quirks, and while most people would probably scoff at that and call him a dork, Izuku doesn't care.

He can't, even, because he gets to go to hero conferences as part of his job? Are you kidding?

It's kind of a dream come true, one he wants to experience every single part of, from the big picture items down to the nitty gritty details - which is why he'd taken it upon himself to book all of his and Todoroki's accommodations instead of using the travel agent their agency kept on retainer, obviously. For the experience.

It's not until they arrive at the hotel that he realizes why having his hero name on the reservation is a mistake.

"I'm so sorry," the concierge says repeatedly, her face red as a beet as she looks over his booking. "I am so, so sorry, Deku, sir, I don't - I don't know what happened."

Izuku stifles a groan and puts on his best hero smile.

"It's alright," he soothes, waving a hand. "It's not your fault!"

"I see your original reservation right here - one room, two beds, reserved for three nights." She tap furiously on the computer's keyboard, moves the mouse wildly across the screen as she examines the details. "But it looks like you were upgraded to one of our suites by management?"

That… isn't uncommon, now that Izuku thinks about it.

People are all too willing to give heroes free things, even when they haven't done anything in particular to merit the added expense. He tries to avoid it, when he can; something about accepting gifts like that feels scummy, even if he knows people are just trying to be kind.

Still, he can't exactly stop people from wanting to help him. He can't just yell at them to knock it off, no matter how much Kacchan insists otherwise.

And most of the time, it's fine!

Most of the time, he just grits his teeth, forces a smile, and deals with it, because customer service is a thankless profession, and it really isn't that big of a deal.

This, he fears, is not one of those times.

"That's, um, very nice of them," he says diplomatically. "But I really don't need any special treatment, especially when there's so many fantastic other heroes here! Could you maybe change us back to the original room?"

The woman shoots him an apologetic look, bowing her head in shame.

"That's the thing, sir," she says. "I can't."

Izuku blinks. "Can't?"

"The hotel is completely full for the conference," she explains, very, very glum. "There's nothing left; we're entirely booked up."

"Nothing?"

"I've checked twice," she confirms. "The only available room is the one my managers upgraded you to, and it only has -"

"The one bed," Izuku finishes for her, grim.

The concierge looks up at him in defeat. "Again, I am so, so sorry."

Well, shit.

Izuku fights not to groan as he slowly turns towards Todoroki, who's been standing quietly at his back this entire time. He's got his phone pulled out, absently chewing on his lip as his thumb taps at the screen, but he's quick to shift focus when Izuku clears his throat.

"Problem?" he guesses, eyes flicking between Izuku and the woman at the desk.

"Um, kinda? I mean, they upgraded us from a regular room to a suite, which… is really, really nice of them. I think there's a mini-bar."

"I don't drink hard liquor," Shouto replies. "It tastes bad."

"Oh yeah, well - neither do I," Izuku says quickly. "But that's not the problem! I mean, you don't have to drink the alcohol if you don't want to."

"Then… what's the issue?"

Izuku braces himself, taking a deep breath. "There's only one bed."

To his credit, Shouto doesn't flinch.

He doesn't groan, or sigh, or give any other outward indication of discomfort. Instead, he just shifts from one foot to the other, hefting his bag a little higher on his shoulder, and says, "Ah."

"Probably because they think we're -"

"Right."

Izuku swallows. "Is that… gonna be a problem?"

"We've slept in the same bed before," Shouto replies slowly.

"That - that was a long time ago, though, back when we were in school -"

Shouto's head tilts to the side, a little like a puppy's. "Is it any different now?"

Well, yeah, Izuku thinks. Kinda.

Sharing a bed in school had been innocent, and for the most part, pragmatic. Having an impromptu sleepover was easier than trying to sneak back to their own dorm rooms and risking getting caught out of bed past curfew, and besides - it's not like they were ever alone.

There was an entire group of them that would cram onto Todoroki's futons, or smash themselves together into Izuku's tiny little twin bed. It would be Uraraka spooning Tsuyu on one end, with Izuku and Todoroki curled up on the other, Iida laid alongside them all on the edge of the mattress like some kind of very large, very solid retaining wall.

This, on the other hand…

Well.

Sharing a bed with someone as an adult is a little more intimate, especially if you have feelings for them and there's inadvertent cuddling involved, and since Izuku is a stage-five clinger…

"Midoriya."

He blinks, brought out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by Shouto's gentle hand on his arm.

"It's fine," he murmurs. "I don't mind."

Izuku inhales, sharp. "You don't?"

"It was an honest mistake, and a bed that size will be plenty big enough for both of us."

And like, sure, Izuku knows that.

On some level, he realizes he's probably making a mountain out of a molehill here.

But sharing a bed with Shouto? Sleeping next to him?

Izuku can't help it - he panics.

Because oh, god.

Oh god, oh god, oh fuck, he usually just sleeps in his underwear!

He runs hot, after all, and since waking up all gross and sweaty remains one of the most uncomfortable things he's been forced to experience, ever, he'd really rather not risk it -

And since he refuses to go to bed with Todoroki in nothing but his boxers, he'll have to wear at least a t-shirt and an additional pair of shorts.

That means that Shouto's gonna see how gross he looks when he first rolls out of bed in the morning, the buffer period he normally has at home completely nonexistent here, which - is just the sort of thing one wants their crush to see! Obviously!

God, this is just his luck.

This is just his darn awful, good for nothing, absolutely terrible lot in life, to have to suffer the indignity of Shouto Todoroki seeing his bedhead.

He wonders if flinging himself from the roof of the building would be a good alternative.

But again, that's probably just him being a little dramatic.

He's probably working this up to something way worse than it actually is, and so he forces a smile he doesn't really feel and turns back to the concierge to get the keys.

Thankfully, the bed really is quite large.

There's almost two solid meters of space between their bags when they each go to claim a side, and a mountain of pillows besides; the likelihood of them both rolling all the way over and somehow meeting in the middle is hilariously small, and while Izuku doesn't like to tempt fate, as a general rule, he figures he's pretty safe from making an idiot out of himself.

He looks up at Shouto, a little sheepish.

"Okay," he allows, throwing up his hands. "Maybe this isn't so bad."

Shouto snorts, already tugging out a change of clothes for the opening banquet.

"And it really is a very nice room…"

"There were chocolates on the pillows," Shouto replies, popping one of said confections into his mouth with a happy little hum. "You know it's fancy when they give you free chocolate."

Putting a finger to his lips, Izuku asks, "What do you think the going rate is for a room like this, anyways? Like, if you're not a hero and don't get special rates negotiated by your agency. Ballpark guess."

Looking around the room with interest, Shouto takes a little time to consider.

"Several hundred thousand yen, probably," he says finally.

Izuku yelps. "What?!"

Then, eyes narrowing a bit, he asks, "Wait, that seemed way too easy. How did you do that?"

Shouto shrugs and holds up a shirt to check for wrinkles. "It's exactly the sort of place Endeavor would try to rent, whenever we'd go out of town," he murmurs, and oh, Izuku thinks.

Right.

"He always chose the most expensive place he could find."

"Gross," Izuku mutters, looking down at his own bag.

"Yeah. A little."

The silence that follows is awkward, even if neither of them intend it to be; they get dressed for tonight's dinner in quiet, and Izuku takes a little more time than usual cleaning himself up, dying a little inside at the thought that he's somehow made the situation even more uneasy by putting his foot in his mouth and bringing up Shouto's father.

Shouto, unfortunately, notices.

"Izuku," he murmurs, after he's finished with his tie.

"Yeah?"

"It's fine," Shouto assures him, lips curling up into a small smile Izuku knows is reserved just for him. "I promise."

And here's the thing.

Izuku knows it shouldn't be so easy to settle his nerves; he knows that he is a walking, talking ball of nervous energy, prone to mumbling and fidgeting and a thousand other habits his publicist and therapists alike have tried to gently steer him away from. At this point, he fears there is no easy fix.

But Shouto's low, steady voice is probably the closest he's ever come to true peace, as is the slightly exasperated little huff he makes when he sees Izuku's bowtie is hopelessly skewed.

He snakes a hand up to correct it, tongue poking out of his lips ever so slightly as he works -

Izuku loves him so much it hurts.

"Better?" he asks, once Shouto's taken a step back to give him an appraising sort of look.

"Better," Shouto agrees, nodding. "You look good."

Izuku smiles and tries not to let the compliment go to his head.

"Thanks. You don't look too shabby yourself, Mr. Number Two Hero -"

Shouto's face pinches.

"Don't remind me of that," he mutters. "Not now."

"Why? You deserve it!"

"They're gonna make me give a speech later."

"Oh, no! That sounds terrible!"

"It is, actually. Thanks so much for mocking me, I really appreciate it."

Izuku wraps his hands around one of Shouto's arms with a snicker, ducking in close enough that he can feel the note cards through his breast pocket, just beneath the red silk square he'd stuck there earlier.

"You're gonna do great," he says. "I know it."

Shouto doesn't look convinced, even as Izuku grabs their keys and gently drags him out into the hall.

"I'll be right there beside you if you get stuck, totally ready to step in if you need me to, and hey, even if you mess up - it's not televised and there's an open bar, which means everyone else is gonna be totally drunk by that point anyways! So no worries!"

"Wow," Shouto deadpans. "That's so reassuring."

Izuku laughs all the way to the elevators.

The first night goes fine.

He and Todoroki are both too tired after a full day of traveling and the hours long opening dinner to bother with the niceties, and excuse themselves from the after-dessert drinks to get some sleep. Izuku barely remembers to take out his contacts and plug in his phone before he's falling into bed, and he's out before Shouto's even turned off the light.

He sleeps like a log, too exhausted to toss and turn the way he usually does.

But Friday is different.

On Friday, he isn't feeling at all sleepy as he goes through his usual nighttime routine. He's practically vibrating as he brushes his teeth and washes his face; he runs a comb through his hair so fast it kinda hurts, and when he finally flops down onto the bed, a bit defeated, he's still thrumming with it.

Shouto, on the other hand, seems totally unaffected.

He's not at all bothered as he goes about getting ready for bed, utterly nonchalant as he dabs some kind of cream around the burn scar around his eye.

Izuku envies his equanimity.

It also makes him feel a little dejected, because surely if Shouto were feeling as keyed up about the whole sharing-a-bed-with-my-not-so-secret-crush situation as Izuku does, he'd be acting a bit… anxious? Maybe even a little bit excited? He certainly wouldn't be humming to himself as he walks about their hotel room, that's for sure; he wouldn't be letting Izuku hear his slightly off key rendition of some pop song he's surprised Shouto even knows as he finishes up his nightly routine.

It's so cute Izuku thinks he could die, and he throws an arm over his eyes with a groan.

Shouto's humming stops.

"Long day?" he guesses.

Izuku exhales out a shaky breath and goes back to carefully studying the ceiling.

"Something like that," he says, swallowing. "Lots of panels, lots of questions. How about you?"

He senses more than sees the way Todoroki shrugs.

"I only had to talk once, so it wasn't that bad," he admits.

"Ah."

"Being around so many people is tiring, though. I always feel like everyone's watching me, like they're… judging me, or something."

"You are one of the top five heroes," Izuku points out.

Shouto shakes his head. "It was the same way when I was a kid," he says. "My father couldn't take me anywhere without people stopping and staring."

"You have to admit, candy cane hair isn't super common. Maybe they thought it was pretty."

Todoroki throws a wash rag at him, and Izuku yelps.

"Hilarious," he says, voice flat. "Very funny."

Izuku can't help but grin. "I thought so."

"I expect that out of Bakugou, not you."

"Should I start calling you Icyhot? Half-n-Half?"

"Please don't."

Izuku chuckles. "Fine. But only because I love you."

Then, realizing what he's just said, he squeaks and bolts upright, frantically waving his hands.

"Um, like you! Only because I like you so much, like, as a friend - but a best friend, I guess, one that I really care about and don't want to actually upset if I tease you about something that brings up bad memories, and I - oh, my god, this is ridiculous. You know what I meant. Forget I said anything."

Shouto snorts, the sound fond. "It's fine, Midoriya. I love you, too."

Izuku buries his face in his hands.

"And, for the record, I don't think anything you've ever said has upset me. If it has, it was only because it was something I needed to hear."

Peering up at him out of the cage of his fingers, Izuku asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You didn't really pull any punches that first sports festival."

Izuku winces, the bed dipping a bit as Todoroki slides into the spot opposite him.

"But like I said," he murmurs. "That was something I needed to hear, even if I didn't particularly want you say to it."

"…you were kinda pretentious."

Shouto huffs out a laugh. "Kind of?"

"I will beat you, Midoriya," Izuku mimics, pitching his voice a little lower in imitation of his friend. "From here on out, we're rivals."

Todoroki's nose scrunches up at that.

"Did I really say that?"

"You absolutely did," Izuku giggles. "So serious, too."

Shouto groans and shoves his face in the pillow. "This is why I don't talk to people."

"Aw, I think it's kinda cute! Now, at least - back then, I was pretty terrified."

"I shouldn't be allowed to go out in public."

"I was scared you were gonna freeze me solid after you cornered me in that back hallway."

Shouto's pout turns into more of a glare. "I did not corner you."

"Oh, come on, you did too -"

"I just wanted to talk to you. There was no cornering involved."

Izuku makes a disbelieving noise and clicks his tongue. "I seem to recall you giving me a very stern talking-to when you accused me of being All Might's secret love child -"

"And I'm not still convinced you aren't."

"I almost peed my pants!" Izuku sighs and flops back down onto the mattress. "But I promise, my real dad is much less interesting and definitely not a hero."

Shouto hums and looks away. "Neither is mine."

The way the mood shifts is instant, palpable.

Though he knows he doesn't have to press the issue, the topic of Shouto's family a surefire way to ruin a perfectly good mood, it's the second time in as many days it's come up. It's maybe inevitable, considering the circumstances of the conference, and Shouto's long past the days where he clams up at any and all mention of his father -

But Izuku still wants to make sure he's alright, that he isn't actually upset, and so he twists onto his side, tucking his hands up under his face.

"Did you see him today?" he asks. "Endeavor?"

Shouto hesitates for just a moment before he nods. "He's kinda hard to avoid."

"Yeah, he… doesn't exactly try to blend in."

"He was on the same panel as me, which… in hindsight, I guess I should have expected." Shouto laughs, humorless, and plays with a little string coming off the top blanket. He rolls it around and around between his fingers until it breaks, frayed thin by either heat or friction. Only then does he take a deep breath and add, a little darkly, "Who would know more about flammable objects and how best to avoid them than everyone's favorite retired flame hero?"

"Did he say something to you?"

"At the end, yeah. He tried to talk to me, asked why I hadn't returned any of his calls or texts."

"And what did you tell him?"

For the first time in several moments, Shouto looks up.

"The truth," he says quietly. "That I still have no interest in rejoining his agency, and don't particularly feel like coming around for family dinner, either."

It had been difficult on Shouto, going no-contact.

Nor was it a decision he'd made lightly -

But in the end, he'd decided that that would be what was best for himself going forward. That that was what he needed in order to have closure on everything that happened to him during his childhood.

Those first few years he and Endeavor had spent trying to work together after high school had been nothing short of disastrous, opening up so many old wounds Izuku had truly worried for Shouto's mental health. He'd quit the agency quite suddenly (and very publicly) one day, so upset that Izuku had hurried over to his apartment to find him near catatonic with the grief of it, and while Izuku knows Shouto doesn't begrudge his sister for trying to rekindle that relationship, he also understands it's not something Shouto thinks he can ever have for himself.

It's heartbreaking, Izuku thinks.

Devastating, even, because he knows how hard Shouto had tried to make things work.

But some relationships aren't healthy, no matter how much time you pour into them, and just because you want something to work out doesn't mean that it will; Izuku's awed Shouto even had the guts to try, after everything his father had put him through over the years, and has he mentioned how proud he is of his friend for finally speaking up and setting his own boundaries?

He's so proud, but also very aware of how draining enforcing your own limits can be, which is why he offers up a smile and an easy out, reaching out a hand to curl his fingers around Shouto's wrist.

"Hey. Need a hug?" he offers.

Shouto nods, small. "Yes, please."

Izuku doesn't quite throw himself at Shouto -

But it's a very near thing, the way he springs forward across the mattress to wrap his arms around his friend and press his face into his hair a little more enthusiastic than the situation maybe calls for.

Still, Shouto doesn't complain, burying his face in Izuku's neck and breathing in deep. He clutches at the back of his shirt like it's a lifeline, and when Izuku draws a hand up to rub slow circles between his shoulderblades, he just kinda melts into him with a low, contented sound.

"Thanks," he murmurs, a few moments later.

"Anytime," Izuku says, meaning every word.

"I just… hate the way he makes me feel."

"I get that. There's a lot of history there."

Shouto draws back a little, though he doesn't completely retreat. "I know he's changed," he murmurs, his gaze focused somewhere on the blankets between them. "I know he's not the same man he was when I was a kid. What Touya said ruined him, and Fuyumi insists he really is different now."

"…but?"

He sighs. "I don't know if that matters."

Izuku hums, contemplative.

"That's up to you, I think," he says. "You get to decide whether or not his apology is one you want to accept, and if it's not, well. He doesn't get to complain about it."

"That doesn't mean he won't," Shouto points out.

"It doesn't," Izuku agrees. Then, puffing up his chest a bit, he adds, "But if he's got a problem with it, he's gonna have to take it up with me first!"

Despite himself, Shouto smiles. "Oh, yeah?"

"And Kacchan, and Uraraka, and -"

Shouto, a little bashful, gives him a half-hearted shove and pulls away, even as he grins. "Stop."

"- and the entire rest of Class A, actually!"

"…you all would probably give him hell. Make it a PR disaster for him."

"Considering how many of us are in the top fifty? Bet."

The mood lightens a bit, after that.

Izuku skillfully shifts the conversation away from Endeavor and onto less exciting topics, and by the time he's finished up his recap on all of the presentations he'd sat in on earlier that day, Shouto's practically falling asleep. His eyes slip shut before Izuku even finishes setting an alarm and flipping the switch on the lights, and by the time he's moved back to his side of the mattress, Izuku's pretty sure he can hear him snoring.

"The audacity," he murmurs, shaking his head. "Falling asleep, just like that."

"It's a gift," Shouto shoots back.

Caught, Izuku laughs. "You're like a cat."

"Mmm. I like cats."

Shouto yawns into his fist halfway through the sentence, curling up into a ball; he looks way too adorable for someone who can't even keep his eyes open, and Izuku shakes his head, fond.

"Go to sleep, Shouto," he says. "Good night."

Shouto snuggles down into the blankets even further with a soft huff.

"Good night, Midoriya," he murmurs, and that -

That should have been the end of it.

They'd go to sleep, stick to their respective sides of the bed, and wake up in the morning for another day chock-full of hero activities, of trying out new gear and listening to cutting-edge techniques on rescue and first aid.

Easy. Simple. Safe.

But Izuku can't seem to fall asleep.

He just can't settle, the mattress too soft on his back and Shouto's slow, even breaths too loud and distracting in the stillness of the room; he tosses and turns, trying every position he can think of to try and get comfortable. He cycles through pillows until he finds one that's the perfect balance of firm and soft, kicks off and readjusts the blankets until he's just the right side of too warm - and even then, his mind won't stop.

It's a problem he sometimes has.

Letting his brain rest, getting the thoughts to go quiet; he can't necessarily predict when and where it's going to happen.

Generally speaking, it's easy enough to avoid when he's completely exhausted after a long day's work, which is maybe why he throws himself around a little carelessly.

But if he isn't physically tired…

Well.

Then his thoughts go to bad, restless places.

The war, and its ruinous aftermath. The sheer loneliness of trying to take on everything himself, and also the abject relief he'd felt when his friends had shown him he hadn't had to.

The guilt of coming up so short.

He's not entirely sure why it's happening now, on a random Friday in late October; it's not close to the anniversary of those battles, and nothing they'd talked about tonight is really a trigger for him. Not anymore, not after years of therapy and learning how to manage that visceral, almost instinctual response to the past.

But then again, this is a stressful situation, even if it's not the kind of stress his therapists had probably had in mind when they'd talked to him about coping mechanisms, and maybe that's enough to explain why his thoughts are spiraling so wildly out of control.

Taking in a deep breath, he searches for a distraction - normally, he'd turn on the television, put on a movie or some music. But Shouto is sleeping so peacefully next to him, and he's had a long day himself. He'd looked exhausted when they'd gotten back to the room, and don't think Izuku hadn't noticed how he'd barely touched his dinner!

Izuku can't just ruin the first peace he's had in hours, and so he grabs for a pillow, rolls onto his side, and buries his face into the fabric with a barely audible groan, settling in for a long, sleepless night of trying and failing to count sheep.

…or at least, he thinks it's barely audible.

But then a cool arm slips around his waist, tugging him backwards across the bed, and Izuku yelps as he's pressed bodily into Shouto's side.

"Shouto! What -"

A warm face presses into the back of his neck, strong fingers splayed out across the side of his ribcage. For all that Izuku's bigger than Shouto these days, Shouto is still a very large person, tall enough to wrap his limbs around Izuku completely, and he's so warm.

It's enough to have Izuku choking down the rest of his protest.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Shouto murmurs, his voice sleep-warm and syrupy.

"I… um, couldn't?" Izuku waves a hand, staring resolutely at the wall instead of daring to twist his head to the side. Shouto probably can't even see it. "Too many thoughts going on, too much noise."

Shouto hums and shoves a leg between his thighs, cuddling in close the way he had in the aftermath of the war, when no one in their class could sleep alone at night.

"Bad ones?" he guesses.

Izuku swallows, nodding.

"It's nothing new," he adds quickly. "Nothing you need to worry about. Thinking about the past has me feeling a certain type of way, I guess, and I just…"

He trails off, not finding the words.

But Shouto nods anyways, like he understands.

He probably does, actually, is one of the very few people who can empathize with how Izuku's feeling, how suddenly those bad feelings can creep up on you.

Instead of pressing him to talk he just holds him through the worst of it; he forgoes trying to get Izuku to open up in favor of just breathing with him and rubbing his arm and staying.

It's so gentle, Izuku thinks he could cry.

So soft, so… knowing, that Izuku wonders how many times this has happened to Shouto - how many times he's laid there awake at night, trapped in his own nightmares, and wanted someone to hold him close.

The thought's enough to spur him to action, and he rolls over onto his back.

Beside him, Shouto freezes.

"…Izuku?" he murmurs, uncertain.

Izuku threads an arm between them, dips it underneath Shouto's waist to wrap around his hips; he twists his head to the side, letting his eyes slip closed as he presses his face to Shouto's shoulder, and when he brings his free hand up, linking his fingers together over Shouto's side, it feels like home.

"Is this okay?" he asks. "Is this -"

He feels the way Shouto swallows - just as he feels the way Shouto's hand tightens over the curve of his hip, the way the leg he'd casually shoved between his thighs curls possessively over his knee. The warm side of his body flares red-hot for a moment, enough so that Izuku blinks his eyes back open -

Only to immediately squeeze them back shut when Shouto presses his remaining hand to Izuku's cheek, palming his face with such soft, careful intent that it actually, physically hurts.

"It's okay," he says, pressing his face to Izuku's hair. "It's fine, take what you need -"

Izuku holds him a little tighter.

"I just need this, I think," he admits. "Just for a minute, just - just this. You."

Shouto's answer is immediate, sure.

"You have me, Izuku," he says.

Izuku swallows, hard.

"Yeah?" he breathes. "I do?"

Shouto's thumb brushes across his cheek, feather-light; Izuku can't tell whether it was on purpose or a happy accident, the thought more than a little vexing.

But then Shouto repeats the motion, petting softly at his face.

"Yes," he murmurs, quiet. "Always."

Izuku feels something in his chest twist, the ache to tell Shouto how he really feels stronger than ever; his want is a real thing, something with teeth, and there is no fucking way that Shouto doesn't know, that he doesn't feel the same -

"Go to sleep," Shouto whispers, lips soft against Izuku's hair. "Rest."

Against his will, Izuku listens.

They don't ever really talk about it -

The way Shouto had held Izuku close all night, how his sheer presence had been enough to cut through all of his restless thoughts and make his mind go quiet. How they'd woken up in each other's arms, and instead of immediately crawling out of bed and facing the day, had elected to lie there and take comfort in the still, soft early morning light.

How it had happened again the night after.

Nonetheless, things change.

Izuku finds his touches lingering a little longer as the days go on, the way that Shouto looks at him just that much more intent, almost knowing. He leans into Shouto instead of forcing himself away, and Shouto blooms.

He flourishes, showering Izuku with all sorts of soft, physical affection now that he knows his advances won't be spurned, and while Izuku had always known that his friend was a little touch-starved, craving hugs and physical touch in a way that he'd never, ever ask for, this casual sort of intimacy they're developing is completely new.

It's… overwhelming, honestly.

Mostly because it's everything Izuku's ever wanted, but also because it's just so - easy?

There's no awkwardness to it, their movements unhurried and stilted; there are no weird, half-baked apologies after pushing too close, no uncomfortable silences when one of them follows the other back to the opposite bedroom at the end of the day instead of their own, and the cuddling… Though he'd have thought moving into this sort of territory without discussing their feelings first would have been strange, Izuku is surprised to find it just seems natural to move around Shouto this way.

It just feels right.

In hindsight, that's probably why Shouto eventually grows comfortable enough to bring their relationship up on his own.

"Maybe we should try it out," he muses one Saturday morning in early winter.

Izuku, who's been neck-deep in reports for the past several hours, hums to himself, not quite paying attention. He's only vaguely aware of Shouto shuffling around the kitchen, dumping his leftover coffee in the sink and grabbing for a dishrag to clean up the oil spatters from breakfast. By the time he finishes up and plops down into the seat across from him, Izuku's completely forgotten that his friend had spoken at all; the way Shouto clears his throat and gently taps his foot with his own makes him jump, the pencil slipping from his fingers as he jerks upright.

"What?" he asks, startled.

Shouto huffs out a soft, fond laugh and props his chin up on his hand. "I said, maybe we should try it out."

"Oh, right. Okay."

Then, realizing he doesn't have a clue what's he just agreed to, Izuku asks, "Try what out?"

Shouto looks down at the table. "Dating."

Izuku blinks.

He thinks his brain actually goes offline for a moment, nothing but static filling the space between his ears, and his body flares hot and cold at all once.

Has he -

Has he heard Shouto correctly? He's not imagining things?

It wouldn't be the first time Izuku's mistaken a very vivid dream for reality, and so he raises a hand and smacks himself (gently) across the face, staring at Shouto all the while.

Naturally, Shouto finds this a little odd.

"What are you doing?" he asks, frowning.

Izuku shakes his head, the sting from the slap still smarting a bit. It doesn't seem to have changed any part of this situation, though, and neither does the pinch he administers to his forearm. He feels both pains immediately and acutely, and also the way his chest is starting to ache, which -

Means this is real, maybe?

Maybe Shouto really has just suggested that they start going out?

Oh, wow, he isn't prepared for this.

Izuku isn't prepared for this at all, even with how things have been lately, and so now he doesn't know what to say, or what to do; is he supposed to accept, he wonders? Jump up and down and shout for joy?

Is that what Shouto wants?

Because that's definitely what Izuku wants.

He's wanted this since they were in high school, wanted it more than anything; the want has settled deep into his bones at this point, the feeling desperate and achingly familiar. He doesn't know who he is anymore if he doesn't want Shouto Todoroki in every way he can possibly have him, so -

He should probably respond, yeah?

Before Shouto takes his lack of a reply for hesitance, and assumes he doesn't want to date.

"Nothing!" he says quickly, his voice something of a croak. "Nothing, nothing at all, I just - I guess I just wanted to make sure this is real? That I'm not dreaming?"

Shouto's head tilts to the side in question. "Why would you be dreaming?"

Izuku chokes out a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

"I dunno," he says, and it feels a little bittersweet. "Maybe because I've wanted to date you since we were fifteen, and I didn't think I'd ever actually get a chance to do it? Or that you could ever like me back?"

Now, it's Shouto's turn to blush.

"You have?" he asks. "You… like me?"

"Um, yes?" Izuku groans and buries his face in his hands. "I mean, it's kinda obvious, I think. At least, Uraraka and Ashido tell me it is, and they're generally pretty reliable people about these sorts of things. I don't think I'm very subtle."

"Oh."

Shouto considers this for a moment, brow furrowing.

Izuku can feel his heart in his throat as he waits to hear what else he has to say, growing more and more anxious by the moment; he's desperate to hear what Shouto has to say to his confession.

But he also knows that Shouto often needs time to process.

He knows that Shouto likes to figure out how he feels before he commits to words, and so he waits, as patiently as he can, as his friend works through this latest revelation.

"I didn't know that," he says finally.

It's… not quite the response Izuku had wanted.

Like, sure, it could have been worse; it could have been an outright rejection, a thanks but no thanks, and though that doesn't seem very likely, considering it had been Shouto who'd suggested they try dating in the first place, maybe the fact that Izuku's been crushing on him for close to a decade at this point is a bit fucking much.

Maybe that's enough to have him reconsidering his offer.

But then again, maybe not, because Shouto doesn't seem weirded out.

If anything, he just looks kinda contemplative, like he's slowly putting together the pieces of a puzzle in his head, finally getting an idea of the bigger picture, and that's -

"You like me," he breathes, awed. "You… like me?"

Izuku swallows and decides to be brave.

"Shouto, I love you," he corrects, and oh -

The way Shouto's entire face lights up is a beautiful thing. His eyes go wide, mouth falling open in surprise; Izuku catches the barest hint of a pink, pink tongue as it darts out to wet his lips and barely stifles a groan at how it makes his mouth glisten in the low, mid-morning light.

Izuku wants to kiss him.

He wants to stand up, cradle Shouto's face in his big, scarred hands, and tip his head backwards as he presses their lips together - and judging from the way Shouto is staring at him, entirely unabashed, he thinks the want might just be reciprocal.

But Izuku is tired of maybes.

He's tired of not knowing exactly where they stand with each other, and so he swallows, thick, and tries, "Do you… do you maybe like me that way too, do you -"

"Yes."

Izuku's mouth snaps shut so fast his teeth click. He makes a sound that might be a whimper.

"I think so."

He thinks he's straight-up died and gone to heaven, because is this real life?

Is this actually happening?

It seems almost too good to be true, which is probably why he's able to suppress the instinct to bodily throw himself into Shouto's lap and instead asks, "Wait, you think so? You don't know?"

Shouto makes a low, embarrassed sound, wiping a hand over his face; he threads his fingers through his hair, partially obscuring his line of sight, and says, "I've never dated anyone before."

Izuku freezes.

"I haven't… wanted anyone like that, so I can't be sure, but -" Shouto breaks off, swallowing. "You make me want things I've never wanted before, Midoriya. You drive me crazy."

Izuku finally gives in and stands up, coming round the side of the table to grab Shouto's free hand.

"Is this… a recent development?" he asks, twining their fingers together.

He's immensely gratified when Shouto doesn't pull away.

Shouto shakes his head. "I always wanted to be close to you," he admits. "Ever since our first year, when you helped me realize that my fire is just as much a part of me as my ice."

Izuku nods, encouraging.

"But I don't think it was romantic, then," Shouto continues. "I don't think it was anything like that for a long time, because I had… a lot of things to figure out."

"And now?"

Shouto finally looks up at him, letting his other hand fall from his eyes. Izuku can't help but press a palm to his cheek, and when Shouto all but melts into him, when he leans into the touch like he's starving for it, he lets out a low, shaky breath and fights not to tremble.

"You're all I can think about," Shouto murmurs. "You're all that I want."

Izuku groans. "Shouto -"

"Is that wrong of me?"

"No," he says quickly, petting his thumb across Shouto's cheekbone, the way he's always wanted to. His skin is so, so soft, and Izuku wants to touch him everywhere. "It's not wrong at all, I just - are you sure? You really want to be with me?"

When Shouto frowns, he takes a deep breath and adds, "I mean, I know I'm kinda average, as far as looks go. I'm not really super attractive, and I've got a lot of scars -"

Shouto looks almost hurt at the admission, like Izuku's insulted Shouto instead of himself.

"Midoriya," he says softly. "Izuku."

"I'm just saying! I know they're not exactly nice to look at -"

"You're beautiful," Shouto disagrees, and Izuku just kind of squeaks. "I've always thought so."

"R-really?"

"Really."

"…it's not just the looks, you know. I have it on good authority that I can be overly analytical and a bit of a workaholic, and you know I talk to myself when I don't think anyone's listening."

"I know," Shouto confirms. "It's cute."

"O-oh." Izuku clears his throat. "Well, if you say so."

"I do."

He looks so convinced of this, like Izuku's attractiveness is a universally known truth. It eases some last bit of tension lingering in Izuku's chest, and when he allows himself to step forward a little closer, to let his hand trail down Shouto's face to land on his shoulder, Shouto pulls him in close. He tugs Izuku forward, until he has no choice but to slot himself between Shouto's legs, and then buries his face in his middle, breathing in deep as he slings first one arm, and then the other, around his waist.

"Do you want to try it, then?" he murmurs, his breath warm against Izuku's shirt.

Izuku makes an inquisitive noise, distracted by the fact that Shouto's hair is indeed just as fine and silky beneath his hand as it's always looked.

"Do you want to try dating? Since according to everyone else, we already are?"

Carefully, so that he doesn't startle him, Izuku forces Shouto's head out of his midriff.

"I'd like that," he says. "I'd like it a lot."

A happy sound punches its way out of Shouto's throat at the admission.

"But I'd kind of like to kiss you first. Is that okay? Can I kiss you, Shou?"

Shouto nods, eyes big and wide and blown dark with anticipation.

"Please," he says, a little damning.

And who is Izuku to refuse him?

He brings his palms up, his hands surprisingly steady as he presses them to Shouto's cheeks and tilts his head up and back, and when he leans down to press their lips together -

Shouto inhales, sharp.

He goes absolutely still, frozen in the space where he sits between Izuku's thighs - and then he shudders, lips parting as he relaxes into the kiss and grasps at Izuku's forearms.

It's clumsy, Izuku thinks, and a little stilted.

It's also completely and totally perfect, and he can't help but make a low, desperate little noise as Shouto kisses him back. His lips are so soft, plush; his mouth is warm on one side and cool on the other, just like the rest of him, and though he's a tad bit tentative, he eagerly follows Izuku's lead.

Izuku is instantly smitten, swallowing down the groan Shouto makes when he drags his teeth across his lower lip; it's the prettiest sound he thinks he's ever heard, just barely audible above the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, as is the gasp that escapes him when Izuku brushes a thumb across his cheek, or sweeps his tongue across his lips. Though none of the noises are particularly loud, it's so much more than Izuku would ever have expected of him; each sound has him feeling dizzy, his head swimming -

He needs to know if it's like this for Shouto, too.

He needs to know if he's just as affected, and so he pulls back, just enough that he can blink his eyes open and gauge Shouto's reaction.

"No," Shouto protests, tugging him back in, "Don't stop, I want - more, please."

Izuku doesn't stop.

Instead, he lets Shouto pull him forward, eyes drifting shut once more as he really settles into it; within the span of a few moments, he's all but crawled into his friend's lap, resting his weight a bit more firmly across his legs, and Shouto's arms have drifted up to wrap around his shoulders. Izuku feels so, so warm, acutely aware of every place that their bodies touch; he catalogues each and every sensation, tucks them away into a little corner of his mind for when his thoughts turn languid and gooey, and lets himself get lost in the way they move together, in the feel of Shouto's body beneath his.

Shouto's longer than him, but leaner; though he naturally tends toward bulk more than Izuku does, he's never quite inherited Endeavor's breadth or stature, and Izuku had outpaced him in sheer muscle mass sometime around their twentieth birthdays. His perch on Shouto's lap is kind of a cramped fit.

Still, he feels strong when Izuku runs his hands up and down his chest, when he lets his fingers dance across the width of his shoulders and the trim line of his waist; he feels warm and real and solid.

It's amazing.

It's incredible, better than every version of him in every dream or fantasy he's ever had, and when Shouto wrenches himself backwards, panting, and blows a cloud of steam out into the air -

"Shouto," Izuku moans, kissing at the corner of his mouth, his cheek. "Shouto, baby -"

Shouto whines at the pet name; the side of his face that runs warm flares red hot beneath Izuku's hand, and his hips give an involuntarily little buck, his lips going slack.

"Do you like this?" Izuku asks. "Is this okay, is it good -"

"Yeah," Shouto breathes, nodding. "It's -"

He pulls back then, tilts his head so that he can peer up at Izuku; his eyes are half-lidded and dark, lips kiss-bitten and red as he works out what he wants to say. He looks so, so beautiful, so pretty Izuku thinks he's gone a little stupid with it.

"It's never felt like that before," Shouto admits, glancing away. "I almost lost control."

"What do you mean?" Izuku asks, frowning.

"Kissing. It's never - I didn't know it was supposed to feel that way."

Izuku feels his heart break a little inside his chest at that, at the sheer wistfulness underlying his friend's words; there's a vulnerability there Shouto rarely reveals, an admission that leaves Izuku feeling a little hollow. He has to know what it means, if Shouto's saying what he thinks he's saying, and so he gently taps on Shouto's cheek, making an encouraging sound.

"What way?" he asks.

Shouto swallows, peering up at him through his lashes. "Good."

Izuku thinks he could cry.

He is, actually, as evidenced by the way Shouto's eyes go wide; he brings a hand up to Izuku's face, thumbing at the corners of his eyes, and while Izuku's a little embarrassed, he's mostly just touched, huffing out a breathless little laugh that he hopes doesn't sound mean.

"It's never felt good for you before?" he asks. "It's not - never?"

Wordlessly, Shouto shakes his head.

"But this, this…" Izuku takes a deep breath and soldiers on. "This feels good for you? You want it, you want me to keep going?"

Considering he can feel Shouto's half-hard dick pressing insistently against his hip, Izuku thinks he already knows the answer to his question. But if they're going to do this, if this is going to go any farther, he needs verbal confirmation that Shouto wants it.

He has to have his enthusiastic, whole-hearted consent -

And Shouto gives it, leaning into him with another soft, weak noise that punches straight through Izuku's defenses.

"Yes," he says, pulling Izuku back in for another kiss, and then another. He lets Izuku lick his way into his mouth, groaning when Izuku's tongue rasps across his own, and when he speaks again, the way he presses the words directly into Izuku's mouth is entirely wanton. "It's really good."

Somehow, they make it to the couch.

Izuku lifts them up - or maybe that's Shouto who takes the initiative to carry them into the living room, his strong arms wrapping around Izuku as he keeps kissing him for all he's worth.

It's difficult to tell.

But no sooner have they gotten seated than Izuku feels himself falling forward, hands scrabbling for purchase on Shouto's shoulders as he's quickly yanked down on top of him.

"Kiss me," he pants. "Touch me, Izuku."

"Where?"

Shouto's voice is low, rough. "Everywhere."

"Okay," Izuku says, pulling back just enough to nose Shouto's head to the side. "Okay, that's - I can do that."

He presses his lips to the hollow at the base of Shouto's ear, nips hard enough to sting. He sets his mouth to Shouto's throat again and again and again, drinking down each and every little noise Shouto makes in response, and by the time he's finished, pulling back to look down at his handiwork, Shouto's eyes have gone wet and glassy, his throat stained purple and blue.

"Oh," he breathes, brushing his bangs back from his face. "Oh, Shouto."

Those eyes flit back to him, and Shouto tugs his lower lip between his teeth; Izuku zeroes in on the motion like a hawk, struck with the sudden desire to replace them with his own.

Then, remembering he can, he does just that, using his grip on Shouto's neck to angle his head to the side so he can kiss him.

Shouto exhales out a whine, big hands palming Izuku's face as his mouth falls open, head tipped back; the sound is accompanied by another cloud of steam, and while the puff of air is almost hot enough to sting, forcing Izuku's eyes shut, he can't quite bring himself to complain.

Mostly because Izuku knows Shouto would never actually hurt him, but also because he's starting to lose it a little too, yeah? He's getting just as lost in Shouto as Shouto is in him, and like -

That's kinda hot.

It's really fucking attractive, and so he just kisses his way back into Shouto's mouth and settles his weight atop him a little more firmly. For every sharp plane and jut of him, there's an equally soft part of Shouto that matches. Their bodies fit together so perfectly; it has Izuku feeling more than a little dizzy, and when Shouto lifts a leg to wrap around his thigh, tugging him in close -

Izuku chokes out a moan as his hips buck forward almost of their own volition, his cock pressing into the hard plane of Shouto's leg. It's almost shockingly loud in the quiet of their apartment, and beneath him, Shouto goes still.

Izuku pulls back, ready to apologize if that's too much, if he's pushed it too far - they only just started kissing, after all, and Shouto's admitted to not having a lot of experience here. He might not feel like doing anything more than a good, sloppy make-out session.

But when Shouto pulls back to look at him, there's nothing in his gaze but heat.

There's nothing there but want, so strong it's almost staggering.

"Izuku," he says. "Can I touch you?"

"Um, yes? I mean, yes, god, please," Izuku groans, wiggling around a little to try and give Shouto more room. The movement has his dick brushing up against Shouto's this time, pressing insistently into him as Shouto's grip on his arms goes tight; it rips a moan from both their throats as they press into the feeling.

The sound goes straight to Izuku's head, and also his cock, and so he rolls his hips a couple more times in quick succession, hoping to hear more.

He's lucky.

Shouto's hands on his shoulders are like a vice, hanging on for dear life as he grinds up into him; the one on his right side is dripping in hoarfrost, the one on the left hot as a brand. Izuku doesn't really have the words for how sexy that is, or how he's kinda getting off on Shouto's quirk going a little haywire in the heat of the moment.

Is it like that when he jacks off, he wonders? Has he ever burnt the blankets off his futon when he cums? He's sorely tempted to ask, if only so he can file the information away for later, but right now -

"Izuku," Shouto whines.

He's so sensitive, so responsive; he seems to shudder into every touch, uncertain whether he wants to get closer or pull away. It gives Izuku pause, and he glances up at Shouto, panting as he asks, "You've done this part before, right? I'm not your first?"

Shouto shakes his head. "I've had sex before," he admits. "A couple of times. But I -"

He breaks off with another moan, overcome, and Izuku sits back a little, rubbing a comforting thumb against the strip of skin that's been revealed where Shouto's shirt has ridden up. Shouto jolts at the touch, tossing his head back against the throw pillows piled beneath him even as his dick kicks up against Izuku's hip; when he wrenches his eyes open again, meeting Izuku's gaze in an instant, Izuku's surprised to find him looking a little embarrassed, kinda guilty.

"I never finished."

Izuku leans down to press a gentle kiss to his neck, to the curve of his jaw.

"That's okay," he says, smiling into his skin. "It's more about making each other feel good, about experiencing that kind of thing with someone else. You don't have to cum every time, and sometimes - sometimes, it's nice just to be together!"

Shouto, cheeks burning, doesn't reply.

"As long as you weren't… pressured into anything, that is? As long as that's not the reason you didn't -"

This time, Shouto shakes his head.

"It wasn't like that," he says quickly. "It wasn't bad. I just… wasn't into it, I guess."

Izuku noses at his cheek, the cool skin of Shouto's right side refreshing against the heat roiling through his body. Combined with the way he's still rubbing little circles into Shouto's hip with his thumb, and Shouto relaxes back into the cushions a bit, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as he realizes Izuku isn't going to make fun of him, which -

Would be a pretty shitty thing to do, honestly!

But he can understand Shouto's hesitancy, and so he keeps his movements slow and very obviously telegraphed as he pulls back enough to stare down into Shouto's face.

"You seem into this," he says, pressing a thigh up and between his legs for a moment.

Shouto gives a soft groan, mouth parting.

"I told you, Izuku," he murmurs, and oh, but Izuku loves the way his given name sounds in Shouto's mouth in this sort of context, all low and rough and gravelly. "You make me want things I've never wanted with anyone else."

As if to demonstrate, he grinds down onto Izuku's thigh, sinks into the feeling.

"You make me feel - good."

He ruts against Izuku's leg, biting his lip to stop the noises from spilling from his mouth; it's so incredibly hot Izuku's rendered entirely stupid for a moment, unable to do more than simply stare down at the sight before him and commit it to memory.

Eventually, though, he moves.

He slides forward on Shouto's legs, shifting around a bit so he can meet each of Shouto's thrusts with one of his own, and Shouto -

For all that he might not have a lot of experience of his own, he's not timid.

He's not shy.

Though his touch is a little hesitant, not quite practiced, he slips a hand down between them as they move together, right where their bodies connect. He presses the heel of his palm against Izuku's dick the next time his hips buck forward, lets his fingers trace the long, hard line of him through his shorts.

Izuku sees stars.

"Mmm," he hums, leaning into the touch and chasing more friction. "That's nice."

"Is it?" Shouto asks.

With a sly grin, Izuku leans down and mimics the motion, wrapping a hand around Shouto's cock and giving him a firm stroke through his pants.

"You tell me," he retorts, enjoying the way Shouto's hand goes still, the way his thighs tense up beneath him. "Good?"

Shouto exhales out a shaky breath and nods.

"Good," he breathes, relaxing into the touch as Izuku strokes him again. "Really good."

"Not too much?"

This time, Shouto shakes his head. "I want - can I take your shorts off? Can I see you?"

Izuku doesn't think he's ever gotten undressed so quickly in his life. He rips his shirt off so hard it tears, and the shorts don't fare much better; Shouto lets out a low, quiet laugh at his enthusiasm, the sound appreciative rather than mocking. It quickly transitions to a groan when Izuku is finally bare before him, and when he sits back down atop him, he lets out a rough, broken, "Fuck."

It goes to Izuku's head a little bit.

(Sue him, he's only human.)

The way Shouto stares at his hard cock, with so much hunger in his eyes, has him squirming and preening and panting. He feels absolutely drunk on it, his blood surging through his veins, pure desire -

And it's absolutely nothing compared to when Shouto slips his hands beneath the waistband of his own sweatpants and shoves, letting the fabric sag down to his knees.

"God," Izuku groans. "Shouto."

Shouto flushes at the way Izuku says his name, all high and reverent and choked. He throws an arm across his eyes, just barely peering out at him from the space beneath the limb - but his pretty pink cock jumps a bit at the sudden attention, glistening with arousal at the tip, and so Izuku doesn't think Shouto really minds the way he stares.

When Izuku pushes up at his shirt, he finds him flushed all the way from his chest down to the jut of his hips; he palms appreciatively at the flat span of his stomach, the sharp press of his clavicles. He wants to touch Shouto everywhere, wants to run his fingers across his skin until they go numb from it. He wants to leave no doubt in Shouto's mind how much he adores him -

But not now, he thinks.

Maybe later, when the both of them aren't quite so keyed up and he feels like he can breathe again.

Then, maybe, he can worship Shouto the way he deserves.

For now, he just wants to make him feel good, and so he reaches out and wraps a hand around him, giving him a firm, practiced stroke.

Shouto rolls up into his fist, his free hand darting out to grip at Izuku's arm. He bites his lip as Izuku continues to stroke him, and it takes all of Izuku's considerable strength to keep him pinned to the couch.

"You're so wet, Shouto," Izuku breathes, running his thumb across Shouto's slit. "So wet, so pretty -"

Shouto's cock bobs in his fist at the praise, dripping onto his hand. Izuku can't help but bring the finger back up to his mouth, and when he groans at the taste, at the feel of Shouto on his tongue, Shouto makes a low, broken noise of his own.

"That's obscene," he moans, even as he stares at the way Izuku sucks his thumb into his mouth, rapt.

"I mean, you seem to like it," Izuku points out.

As if to demonstrate, he reaches for Shouto's cock again, his strokes speeding up as Shouto gets used to the feeling of his hand on him, and beneath him, Shouto writhes, his protests long forgotten.

"You can't keep doing that," he pants, even as Izuku does exactly that. "You can't - I'll cum."

Izuku laughs, breathless. "Oh, I really hope you do."

The low curse that slips past Shouto's lips is entirely worth it.

He seems to give into the feeling the harder Izuku tugs at his dick, and within the span of a few short moments, he's working with him, rather than just letting Izuku do whatever he wants. Feet planted on the couch, one hand braced against the back for leverage, he bucks up whenever Izuku twists down; it kinda makes it look like Izuku's riding him, and isn't that a thought?

Izuku files it away for later -

Somewhere in between all the sordid things he wants to do to and with Shouto, all the fantasies he's never allowed himself to look too closely at before.

For now, though, he really, really, really wants to see Shouto's face when he cums, and so he puts a hand on his waist, slowing his movements as he reaches for Shouto's free hand.

"Are you close?" he pants.

"Close," Shouto groans, nodding. "I'm - really close, so don't - don't stop moving, please -"

Izuku gently shushes him, sliding forward a bit so the head of his dick bumps into Shouto's; the touch is all velvety soft and red hot heat, so, so wet from where Shouto's practically dripping. Izuku wraps their linked fingers around both their cocks, the way they slide together so, so good; the friction is incredible, the feel of Shouto against him completely intoxicating, and he quickly teaches Shouto how to move so they're bucking up at the same time.

"Like this," he says. "Together."

"Shit, Izuku -"

"It's good, yeah? God, you've got the nicest cock, it feels so good, Shouto -"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck -"

Izuku darts in to kiss him, unable to help himself.

It's messy, he thinks, and more than a little wet; neither of them really has a whole lot of finesse left at this point, and so it very quickly devolves. But the thought of not kissing Shouto when he looks like that is inconceivable, and so he twists his hand a little tighter, jerks him off just a little bit faster as his lips go slack against Izuku's, the movements of his hips erratic and stilted as he gets closer and closer to the edge -

Shouto jerks suddenly, sucking down a ragged inhale.

Izuku rears back just in time to see his eyes roll, lips parting around a very loud, very uncharacteristic noise that sounds like Izuku's name as he spills over their fists; his release drips hot and sticky across his fingers, splashing up onto his stomach as Izuku works him through it, and while he's got a pretty good imagination, Izuku's pretty sure he'll never see anything more beautiful than Shouto Todoroki laid out beneath him like this, flushed and panting and wrecked.

"Oh, my god," he groans. "That was so -"

For once in his life, he's at a total loss for words.

He has absolutely nothing to say, not a single thought running through his brain other than Shouto, Shouto, Shouto, and so he just grips at his dick and ruts up into his fist, overcome.

Shouto stares up at him, breathing hard; though he still looks a little dazed from the orgasm, his eyes are sharp, entirely focused on what Izuku's doing with his hand. He watches intently, hands lifting up to wrap around Izuku's hips and tug him in close, up higher on his chest, and when Izuku cums, Shouto makes sure it lands right where he wants it.

Namely, all over his face.

"Holy shit, Shouto, baby -"

Shouto groans, his spent cock giving a weak twitch against the hand Izuku's thrown back to hold himself upright as cum hits his cheeks, drips down his jaw; he seems utterly entranced by the way it spurts out of Izuku's cock, which is more than a little unexpected - but Izuku's definitely kinda into it, and so he lets himself get lost in the feeling, moaning and groaning and writhing atop Shouto until he's completely spent and he can tip forward over the arm of the couch.

"Oh, my god," he gasps, breathing hard. "That was -"

"Satisfying?" Shouto offers.

"- the hottest thing I've ever done in my life," Izuku corrects, the image seared into his brain. He still kinda wishes he could take a picture. "Hands down."

Shouto snorts and grabs for the hem of his shirt, wiping his face clean with a grimace; once he's gotten the worst of it off, he quickly tugs the garment up and over his shoulders, tosses it to the floor. Then he's grabbing Izuku round the waist and twisting, rolling them over so that he's on top, and like -

Izuku is game for that!

His body is very, very interested in another round, even though he thinks he probably needs a minute or ten before he can go again, and he'd really like to kiss Shouto a little more first.

But considering they're two big men on a relatively small couch, it doesn't go well.

Instead of simply changing positions, they roll all the way over and then straight off the sofa. Izuku hits the floor with a thud and a gasp, Shouto's knees banging loudly into the coffee table like something out of a bad sitcom. Toast, who's so far been a mostly disinterested observer, yowls and darts from the room.

"Um, ow?" Izuku puts a hand to his head, certain that's gonna leave a mark. "That hurt."

"Sorry," Shouto winces, pushing up onto his hands. He brackets Izuku's hips with his thighs, finally kicks his damn sweatpants the rest of the way off, and -

Oh, wow, Izuku thinks.

A naked Shouto leaning over him and bullying his way between his legs is, like, the best thing that's ever happened to him. Top ten life experiences, for sure.

"I'm sorry," Shouto says again, even as he leans in and kisses Izuku a little desperately, threading his hands into his hair and holding on tight as he presses their lips together. "Are you okay? Is this - too much?"

Izuku whines and drags Shouto down on top of him, curling his legs around thighs that could crush him like a bug, could wrap all the way around him and force the breath from his lungs.

(God, he really hopes they do.)

"I'm good," he pants, kissing Shouto back just as hard. "I'm - Shouto."

"Yeah?"

Izuku grins and laughs into his mouth, his heart so full it feels like it might burst.

"I am so good."

The rest of the day is a total loss.

Izuku's work reports lie abandoned on the kitchen table, the dinner he'd so painstakingly taken the time to prep last night going to waste in the refrigerator when they give in and order take-out. Shouto completely forgets the load of laundry he'd put in after breakfast, and if it weren't for Toast's incessant meowing at the bathroom door, they probably would've stayed in the shower together until the hot water ran out.

(A difficult feat when one of you can reheat water as needed, Izuku is delighted to find out.)

Instead, they dedicate the time to other pursuits -

Such as learning that Shouto is surprisingly ticklish on the backs of his knees, and that what little body hair he has is also split right down the middle into red and white. They determine that Izuku likes getting praised maybe a little too much, and also that Shouto will melt into a literal pile of goo if you pet at his hair and scratch your nails across his scalp, and while they do eventually sit down and hash some things out, they're both quite happy to get lost in one another after what feels like months of unspoken longing.

"We're dating, then," Izuku says sometime after round… he's lost count, honestly. He thinks they might be up to four. "You and I, we're actually…"

"Together?" Shouto suggests.

Izuku's nose scrunches. "I mean, I was gonna say boyfriends, but I dunno. If we start to call each other partner, people are just gonna think we're talking about our work rotations, and lover is just… weird? It feels kinda weird to say."

Shouto makes a contemplative noise as he burrows deeper into the sheet Izuku had thrown over their bodies earlier, more to ward off the chill in the air than out of any sense of modesty. He seems to give the question some good, hard thought, and when he looks back up at Izuku, he's entirely serious when he says, "Love of my life?"

Izuku, like, chokes.

He goes red as a beet and also makes a very undignified sound as he presses his hands to his cheeks, even as something in his chest soars at the term of endearment.

"That's - wow," he finally gets out, his voice pitched way higher than it normally is. "Am I - are you serious?"

Shouto blinks up at him, unbothered.

"I can't imagine myself loving anyone else the way I love you," he says, and Izuku can't help it, he really, really can't - but he bursts into big, happy tears and glomps onto Shouto with all of his strength, hanging on for dear life until he feels like he can talk without sobbing again.

Shouto, graciously, doesn't make fun of him for it.

He does, however, happily accept the term boyfriend when Izuku asks if that's what he wants, and then promptly drags him into yet another heated make-out session.

(Izuku is not complaining.)

It's only later that night, as they're trying to actually go to sleep, that Izuku finally comes clean.

"Ten years?" Shouto asks, staring across the mattress at him with wide eyes. "You've been in love with me for ten years?"

Izuku winces. "Okay, so when you put it like that -"

"Is there another way to put it?"

"Well, it wasn't ten years exactly!" Izuku says quickly. "I mean, I've had a crush on you for like a decade, sure, but I've only been in love with you for like - five years, so. It's definitely not as pathetic as it sounds!"

Shouto looks incredibly guilty for a moment, and also a little dumbfounded.

But then he sighs and shuffles forward to press his face into the side of Izuku's neck, curling his arms around his waist and drawing him in tight, and Izuku relaxes.

"I can't believe it took us so long to figure out," he murmurs.

"Really?" Izuku laughs. "Because, honestly, I feel like it kinda tracks."

Shouto hums as Izuku threads a hand through his hair.

"Maybe," he says slowly. "I think both of us were scared of messing something up. Of ruining everything. I know I was terrified of messing up the first friendship I ever had."

"Aw, no -"

"But I can remember there being at least a few times when I thought you might like me back."

"Yeah?" Izuku shifts a little, putting an encouraging hand on his hip.

Shouto nods.

"What gave me away?"

"You would just… say certain things, or do something that made me think you might care for me - more than you cared for our other friends, that is," he explains. "You were always so much softer with me than everyone else was. So much more focused."

Glancing up at Izuku, he adds, "You saw me," and Izuku has to swallow down the lump in his throat that starts to form from the sheer rawness of the admission.

"…you never said anything, though. You never brought it up."

Shouto snorts, a little wry. "I tried. Ever since I accidentally told everyone we were… fucking, and you said you weren't upset at the thought of being tied to me like that, I'd been trying to be more clear about what I really wanted."

Izuku thinks back to a couple of conversations that had left him wondering, to all of those little almost-maybe-what if moments they'd shared. He recalls them all, in perfect clarity, and then wheezes, because -

"Oh, my god," he interjects, slapping his hands to his face. "Oh, my god, you totally were!"

"When I told you I wasn't interested in dating anyone else; when we moved in together, and you told me you wanted me to have someone I cared about. And then there was that night at the conference, when I said in my speech that I was only able to do the things that I did because of the people supporting me -"

"- the people that you loved," Izuku finishes with a croak.

"Fuyumi, Natsuo, my mother. All of our old classmates, our teachers. You."

"I am - such an idiot, god -"

"I should have said something," Shouto disagrees, shaking his head. "I wanted to tell you so badly sometimes, it hurt. But then I would always talk myself out of bringing it up, convinced it wasn't true. I told myself I was just seeing what I wanted to see, and being quiet is - easy."

"Shouto…"

"I didn't want to lose you."

Izuku's expression softens, and he hugs Shouto a little tighter.

"You wouldn't have," he insists. "You wouldn't have - you'll always have me, Shouto. In whatever capacity you need me." Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he adds, "I promise."

Shouto exhales, a little shaky.

"I know that now," he says. "But sometimes… I think I convince myself you're going to eventually leave me behind. That there will come a day you don't need me anymore."

"Never."

"I know," he sighs. "Momo said as much, and Kyouka."

"She's smart, our Momo."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said that," Shouto snorts. "She's so sick of hearing about it at this point, it's a miracle she hasn't shoved me off a building."

Izuku chokes out a laugh. "What? That doesn't sound like something Momo would do."

"I believe the words 'moratorium' and 'excommunication' were thrown around the last time I tried to use her as a sounding board for my problems. Trust me, she's sick of us."

"Hey! I didn't do anything!"

Shouto pulls back with a nod. "Exactly," he says. "You didn't do anything, either."

Izuku pouts, playfully kicking at Shouto's shin.

He doesn't even make a sound, the bastard, just coolly staring back at Izuku as he huffs and puffs, and when Izuku gives up, admitting defeat, he smiles.

"Besides," he teases. "From when I hear, Uraraka is just as annoyed with you."

"She… what?"

"I, ah… asked her once, whether or not she thought there was someone that you liked," Shouto admits. "I wasn't very subtle. And she wouldn't tell me the truth, because she said that that was your business - but she did go on a pretty lengthy coke rant about how stubborn you are and how you don't think you're good enough for anybody."

"Oh, hey, you used that correctly!"

Shouto perks up. "Did I?"

"Also, Ochako Uraraka is a traitor and completely dead to me."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean it! I'm never speaking to her again!"

"I'll keep that in mind for next week's movie night."

Izuku clicks his tongue.

"Is what she said true, though?"

"Well, I think my stubbornness is pretty well-documented at this point -"

"Not that. The part where she said you don't think you're good enough for anybody."

"…oh. Well." Izuku clears his throat. "About that."

Shouto's expression turns admonishing, his voice soft when he says, "Izuku."

"It's not that I don't think I'm good enough for you," Izuku says quickly. "It's - that really isn't true. It's more that I just… don't understand why someone like you would want to be with me?

"I mean, don't get me wrong, back in high school, you were definitely way outta my league. I was super awkward and very uncool and, um - a genuine train wreck, and you were -" He waves a hand, as if that helps get his point across, "- you know. You."

"…me."

"Perfect," Izuku says, a little pained. "You were perfect and wonderful and cute, especially in our second and third years once you started really coming out of your shell, and every time you opened your mouth I wanted to kiss you so badly, it made me stupid."

He pauses to laugh, running a hand through his hair.

"I still do, honestly. It makes it kinda hard to be around you, sometimes, because you're just so stinking adorable all the time. But I like to think I've got a little more self-control now than I used to, and also a bit more self-confidence, so. It's really not that bad."

Shouto glances down, cheeks turning a little pink.

"You can, you know," he murmurs. "Kiss me. I don't mind."

Izuku's lips twitch. "You don't mind?"

"I want you to," Shouto clarifies, looking back up. "Because I - also want to kiss you all the time, and sometimes feel a little stupid around you."

"You do?"

Shouto lifts a hand, drags his fingers down Izuku's cheek until they're resting at the side of his mouth, his thumb trailing along his jaw; it's the single most intimate way Izuku thinks anyone's ever touched him, so much meaning packed into such a tiny gesture. The warmth of it seeps into his bones and settles in deep.

"I don't think you realize the effect you have on me," Shouto says, lips parting as he slowly leans in, "or how much I want you."

Izuku inhales, sharp.

He thinks back on that afternoon, and how as the hours had worn on, it had been Shouto initiating those casual touches, Shouto asking for more affection. While he'd been a little tentative at first, stiff in his inexperience, he'd more than made up for it with his enthusiasm, and so Izuku nods, his heart in his throat and also leaking out his tear ducts, and says, "I think I'm starting to figure it out."

Then Shouto's kissing him.

He's kissing him, soft and sweet, and cradling his face so gently in his hands that Izuku kind of wants to cry. The way he licks into Izuku's mouth is sensual rather than heated, slow and exploratory; he kisses Izuku like they have all the time in the world, like he wants to spend as much of it as he can right here in Izuku's bed, legs and arms so entangled it's hard to tell where one of them ends and the other begins, and that's -

"Izuku," he murmurs. He says his name over and over again, like it's the best thing he's ever heard - like a mantra, like a prayer. "You've always been good enough for me."

Izuku groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

"If anything, I'm not good enough for you."

"No," Izuku breathes, wrenching them back open as he shakes his head, vehement. "That's not - that's impossible."

"Is it?"

"You're the best person I know."

"And you're the best person I know."

"That's - no. You can't say that," Izuku whines. "You can't use my own arguments against me!"

Bemused, Shouto quirks a brow. "I can't?"

"No."

"And why's that?"

"Honestly? It seems kinda rude! It's also not very creative, so you're not earning very many brownie points here -"

He stops talking as Shouto presses his lips to the hollow at the base of his ear, cold and hot all at the same time; the sharp teeth that nip at his skin quite effectively shut him up, and he forgets the rest of what he was going to say as Shouto works another small, dark mark into his throat.

Izuku's not sure whether it's a punishment or a reward.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Shouto eventually asks, when he finally relinquishes his prize. He leans back so that he can peer down at Izuku, head propped up on a hand, and breathes in deep. "That I want you, that I like you just the way you are?"

He's so imploring, Izuku suddenly realizes, so earnest.

Shouto truly doesn't see things any other way, doesn't think Izuku any less wonderful or beautiful than Izuku thinks Shouto. For all that he'd said Izuku had seen him, Izuku's pretty sure Shouto's just as perceptive, those keen eyes of his cutting through straight to his core, and the emotion Izuku sees reflected there -

Shouto loves him.

He loves Izuku, adores him exactly the way that he is, his eyes mirroring the trust and dedication and want Izuku feels in his own heart.

It's a little overwhelming.

It feels kinda like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat, or maybe flying face-first into a solid concrete wall; the clarity is both sudden and startling in its intensity, but instead of feeling stupid, Izuku is just happy. The knowledge settles over him like a blanket, warm and soft and so, so gentle, and though it's been a long time coming, though acceptance is no easy thing and he knows it's something he'll have to continue to work on, it feels… right.

It feels true, and so he presses his forehead against Shouto's, kisses him again.

"I guess it just felt too easy," he explains, the best he can. "It felt too good to be true."

Shouto's nose is cold against his cheek, but his mouth is warm, warm, warm.

"It's not, Izuku," he breathes, and oh -

But Izuku's starting to believe that might indeed be the case.