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“Would you let me put out my cigarette on you?” Touya asks, he’s laying across his bed, head hanging off the edge while smoking.
Tomura rolls his eyes. “The ashtray is literally in front of you.” He’s nestled into the pile of cushions Touya has tossed into the corner of his room and called a couch. Tomura is pretty sure this is not how couches are made but he is pretty fucking comfortable so he’s never pointed it out.
“Yeah, but like–” Touya says, waving his hands like that means something. It does not explain his point even a little bit.
Tomura feels like he should point out that the cigarette isn’t even halfway done. The smell of it isn’t as bad nowadays, he’s started associating it with Touya despite how unpleasant he usually finds it. Not that he’ll ever say it. At least the wind is somewhat present today through Touya’s open window.
Tomura continues fiddling with his switch. He’s just about to beat the boss when Touya starts talking again. Tomura tunes him out, he only needs a few more hits to beat this level. He’s been stuck on it for the past– however long he’s made himself at home in Touya’s cushion pile. It could have been minutes or hours, time is always weird when he hangs out with Touya. He’s never sure what to make of it.
“–and it’s like, sure, it’s cringe or whatever, and it’s not that I don’t know that I’m an asshole but like, goddamn. What’s a bitch gotta do to hold hands in this century?”
Huh.
Tomura blinks. Clearly he underestimated how much Touya goes on tangents when he’s like this. Restless and tilted. Maybe the fact that he’s kinda upside down isn’t helping. His brain probably isn’t used to having so much blood. Touya wants to hold hands with someone? A specific someone, or a conceptual someone? Actually, does it even matter? Tomura does not need to spend more time thinking about his hands, they are already unfairly nice. Even now, one is holding his cigarette between two fingers while the other moves randomly creating odd but enticing shadows.
“Weren’t we talking about cigarettes?” Tomura asks so that he doesn’t say I’ll hold your hand, you whiny bitch, maybe I’ll even kiss you in the moonlight or something. Also, he does not understand how Touya jumped from asking to put out a cigarette on him, to hand holding.
“That was ages ago, ‘mura, get with it.” Touya snaps, he’s pouting too. It’s endearing from this angle, makes Tomura wanna kiss his forehead or like, play with his hair or something. Ugh. He suppresses a shiver. Gross.
“Sorry we don’t all have brains with fucked up neural pathways.” Tomura rolls his eyes. Seriously, you would think Touya would have grown out of being a brat by now, especially given his whole edgy, emo, daddy issues, brooding thing. But clearly, he’s just decided to channel that all towards Tomura instead.
“Shut the fuck up.” Touya groans, exaggerated as he always is when Tomura starts talking about anything vaguely science or brain related. He even wags his cigarette for good measure. Tomura really does not get how it hasn’t burnt to the filter yet. “You wish your neuroplasticity was as elastic as mine.”
What.
Tomura’s jaw drops. “How do you know those words?” He asks. What the hell? No matter how many lectures Touya dragged him to, he never managed to get Touya to join one of his. So. Either he’s secretly a genius (Tomura has seen him try to fight a garbage bin for being in his way in broad daylight), or he’s suddenly been replaced by a clone who is exactly the same except isn’t allergic to learning anything that isn’t literature.
“Woooooooow.” Touya drawls, clearly unimpressed. He takes a drag from his neverending cigarette. “Not like you don’t talk about this nerd shit nonstop.”
And like. Tomura really doesn’t. Only when something is really bugging him. Or he found something interesting. Or he’s just been thinking of it, and– okay, maybe he does talk about it a lot, but Touya never says anything. Tomura always assumed he just tunes him out, while he does whatever the fuck it is he does.
But this. This is new information. Enlightening information.
Tomura’s grin is wide enough to split his face. “You listen when I speak.” He says. It’s not even a question. Doesn’t need to be.
“Fuck off.” Touya grumbles, it’s not even a denial. There’s a blush on his ears that Tomura is pretty sure isn’t just from the weird position he’s in. Holyshit. Tomura’s life is changing before his eyes.
“But then who will hold your hand?” Tomura teases, if only to see the way Touya turns red as he sends Tomura his nastiest glare. He looks so cute like this. What the hell? Tomura is not okay at all. Who allowed Touya to blush like that? And when Tomura flirts with him?
Tomura’s heart is in his throat and his hands are probably shaking. He’s abandoned his game. Who needs a new record anyway? He has another mission to accomplish now that he’s realising it is something he’s allowed. None of his nerves matter, not if it’s Touya. It’s all worth it for him.
“Touya.” He says, keeping his voice steady, because Touya will flee at any hint of uncertainty. He’s like a rabbit.
Touya looks at him, tense but curious.
“Come here.” Tomura says, putting his switch on the side so Touya knows he’s serious.
“Will you let me put out my cigarette on you?” Touya asks, grinning, even as he rolls off the bed, landing unsteadily on his feet. Fucking– it’s annoying how he’s still hot like this. How hot he is when he’s being a dick.
“Will I–” Tomura rolls his eyes. “Maybe.” He sighs. “Depends.”
Touya stands in front of him, expectant, Tomura has to look up to see him properly. “Depends on what?”
Brat.
Can’t he see that Tomura is trying to do something here. He tugs at Touya’s wrist, hard and fast so that he essentially topples onto Tomura.
“What the fuck ‘mura?” Touya groans, face planted in Tomura’s shoulder in a way that’s probably uncomfortable. Tomura huffs a laugh, serves him right. He’s still holding his cigarette, it’s burnt through a bit, but Tomura is pretty sure they’re not meant to be this slow. But then again, he’s no expert. Touya’s arm is outstretched, so the cigarette isn’t near either of them. He’s being considerate. It’s horrible. Tomura wants to kiss him everyday for the rest of their lives.
“I hate you.” He boldly declares as Touya repositions himself so he’s all but straddling Tomura with a glare. Tomura’s hands find themselves resting on Dabi’s thighs before he could even consciously make the decision.
“You made me come all the way here, just to tell me that?” Touya raises an eyebrow. It’s the pierced one, the silver catches the light. Nonsensically, Tomura thinks he wants to capture the light for himself.
“And if I did?” Tomura snarks back, because he is a bitch first and a bitch who is in love with their best friend second.
“I’ll put this out on your stupid face.” Touya threatens, brandishing the cigarette like a weapon. Not even a speck of ash falls.
“Nah.” Tomura grins, hands gently moving up and down Touya’s thighs, he’s wearing extremely thin sweatpants today. Tomura has never been more thankful. “You like my stupid face too much.”
“I do not–” Touya spits, with not even half of the usual vitriol he carries. Tomura grins, it’s rare to see Touya flustered. Cute. The blush is back and sits high on his cheekbones. Tomura wants to kiss it so badly.
And like, the effort to not has probably taken over his higher functioning. But how is it his fault that when he wets his lips, Touya’s gaze follows his tongue so intently that Tomura feels like he’s being kissed already.
“I think you do, Touya.” Tomura purrs, he leans in, just a little, as Touya’s eyes darken at the sound of his name. “I think you like my stupid face so much that you want to kiss it.”
Abruptly, Touya jerks back. Eyes wide in a way that spells something more akin to horror. Fuck. Did Tomura read it wrong? Fuck. Is he going to lose his best friend?
“Fuck you.” Touya spits, mean and acidic, as he scrambles to get away. Tomura wonders if being stabbed hurts as much as this. “Fuck you, Shigaraki. You don’t get to mock me for this.”
And–
Oh.
Fuck.
Tomura’s hands grip Touya’s waist just before he can escape. Touya freezes, for a split second and it’s enough for Tomura to pull him back onto his lap.
“Touya.” He says, voice sharp as Touya tries to wiggle away. He doesn’t use this voice often, tries not to if he can. It holds too many memories of his sensei and all that he tried to mold Tomura into. But. Desperate times.
“Touya.” He says again, softer. Gentle. Touya slows and looks at Tomura with caution.
Tomura looks him in the eyes, keeps his own open and honest. “I’m not making fun of you.”
Touya scoffs but doesn’t try to move again.
“I’m not.” Tomura says, insistent. “Promise.”
“You don’t need to lie, Shig.” Touya looks to the side. “I’ll get over it and we can pretend none of this ever happened.”
Tomura cannot even begin to explain how much he does not want that. Wants to yell. Wants to shake Touya till he realises that Tomura does actually like him. Wants to go back in time and kill Enji Todoroki for ever making Touya think he’s something unlovable. But he can’t. He can’t change it. Can only focus on Touya now.
“Touya.” Tomura says, barely above a whisper. It sounds like a prayer. Like a plea. Touya is looking at him with too many emotions. “Give me your hand.”
Tomura can’t decipher the expression Touya makes, but he raises his empty hand towards Tomura who takes it in both of his hands. Cradles it, because it’s something precious. Because it’s Touya.
Slowly, he brings it closer to him and places a small kiss to the back of it.
He can feel the way Touya’s breath hitches.
“I’ve been in love with you for years.” Tomura says, eyes flicking back up to see tears well up in Touya’s. They don’t fall.
“That’s not–” Touya breathes, shakily. “You can’t just say that.”
Tomura is still holding his hand. He presses another kiss to it. “It’s true though.”
“But.” Touya tries, Tomura does not know what he’s trying to protest. He kisses Touya’s hand again. “You–” Another kiss. And this is working out to be quite an efficient method of making Touya speechless.
Touya sighs heavily. “Ah. Fuck.” He stretches his hand and puts out his cigarette on his fucking hardwood floor.
Tomura doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before Touya’s hands are both cupping his face with the utmost tenderness, Tomura maybe feels like he’s drowning.
“I love you too.” Touya declares. And. Hm. Tomura’s heart is definitely gonna fall out if he opens his mouth right now. He smiles at Touya instead while he tries not to spontaneously combust. A smile he never thought he would get back, not one so carefree and pure. Ah, shit, love really is embarrassing.
“Enough to start using my name again?” Tomura teases, smile impossibly wider.
Touya rolls his eyes, it’s more fond than anything. “Tomura.” He purrs, “will you let me put out my cigarette on you?” He asks, because he too, is a bitch. Tomura loves him so much.
Tomura can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Later.” He says. “I’ve gotta hold your hand first.”