Archive of Our Own

Shouto Todoroki and Izuku Midoriya finally get married on April 15, 2XXX.

It's a small, intimate ceremony.

The weather is warm enough that people can congregate outside on the open-air patio of the community center they'd rented, but cool enough that it's not uncomfortable, and the rain that had been threatening to fall all week ends up holding off until the next morning. The tables and columns of the event hall are tastefully decorated in banners of cream and gold silk, the centerpieces filled with lovely white flowers that Momo and Uraraka had cut and trimmed themselves, and the food at the reception is excellent.

In other words, it's perfect.

Shouto has absolutely no complaints, is happier than he can ever remember being -

And Izuku, brilliant and happy and radiant as ever as he dances with first his own mother and then Shouto's, in quick succession, is his.

It's… not something he ever thought he'd have, if he's being honest.

Marriage wasn't exactly something he'd aimed for growing up, the only real example of it he'd ever known the disastrous quirk marriage between his mother and father. He hadn't really known what it meant to have a working adult relationship until he'd gotten a glimpse of Aizawa- and Yamada-sensei's quiet companionship in the aftermath of the war, and then again when he'd started getting invited over to his classmates' houses for graduation parties and birthdays, getting glimpses into their lives.

He hadn't understood that not all relationships had to come with warning labels.

He'd foolishly thought that entanglements like that would only slow him down, and had it not been for a certain cheerful, bright-eyed boy who'd - quite literally - torn Shouto's self-imposed walls to bits with his bare hands during that first sports festival, who knows?

Maybe he'd have continued being the class loner, convinced that that was the only way to be.

Maybe he'd have ended up like his brother, so consumed by hate that it burned him alive, or even worse - like his father, obsessed with the pursuit of an ideal to the point that he ruined everything else he had.

He doesn't like to think about that much.

He doesn't particularly care to know how very close he'd come to repeating the mistakes of the past, or how else certain events could have gone - mostly because there's no real use in theorizing like that, nothing to really be gained from flagellating himself, but also because it's just… different? His own life's not at all what he'd thought it would be, and that's -

"Hey, you."

A warm hand wraps around Shouto's hip, pulling him into a broad chest, strong arms. He turns just in time to see the smile work itself across Izuku's face, and then there's lips at his cheek, soft and a little damp from the champagne, the heat of the room.

"Izuku," he murmurs. "Hello."

Izuku laughs. "Hi."

"Did you… need me for something?"

That earns him another laugh, and a knowing little smirk that is - way too attractive for a wedding reception, filling Shouto's head with terrible (wonderful) thoughts.

"What, am I not allowed to kiss my husband at our own wedding?" Izuku teases.

"…I didn't say that."

Izuku clicks his tongue and presses his lips to his cheek again, lingering.

"You're too cute for your own good," he murmurs. "It makes me want to kiss you forever, until you get sick of me and go hide in your bedroom -"

"I do not hide."

"- but it was being, ah… suggested, let's go with that, that I come and find you so your mother can have a dance before her feet start to hurt in those heels, so - here I am! Coming to drag you out of your corner for the traditional mother-son dance." He clears his throat. "Also, Kacchan's starting to get antsy about cutting the cake, and Momo made it clear we can't do that until all the dances have been taken care of, so I really kinda need your help here -"

Shouto snorts, allowing himself to be pulled out of his corner and into the main part of room.

"That seems like a flimsy excuse to make me socialize," he points out, relishing the way Izuku curls their fingers together. "Bakugou doesn't even like cake -"

"He says he doesn't like cake," Izuku interjects. "He's also a dirty, rotten liar who sneaks my sweets from the drawer and eats them when he thinks I'm not looking!"

He raises his voice for that last bit, glancing over to where Bakugou has his arms wrapped around Kirishima's shoulders. Kirishima's hold on him goes a little tight at the outburst, a useful exercise in precaution if Shouto's ever seen one as Bakugou whirls around in his arms, glaring at the two of them as he yells, "Oi! I fucking heard that, Deku!"

"You were meant to, Kacchan!" Izuku throws back.

Then, to Shouto, he adds, "He owes me, like, fifty packs of strawberry Pocky at this point. I've been keeping count over the years."

"Fuck you!"

Izuku giggles into his hand, grinning up at Shouto.

"See? He only acts like that when he's knows I'm right."

"…he acts like that all the time."

"Hmm, must be all that guilt - but hey, here we are!"

He tugs Shouto forward then, hard enough that Shouto stumbles a little on the parquet; he catches himself just in time, sending Izuku a cool sort of look that's brushed off with a wink and a pat on the back as he's forced into his mother's waiting arms, and sighs, long-suffering.

"Shouto," she smiles. "There you are."

"I wasn't hiding."

Rei Todoroki's eyebrows raise.

"I never said you were," she replies. Then, grasping at his hand and adjusting his stiff hold on her shoulder and side, she says, "But it had been a while since I saw you last, and your friend Momo was really quite insistent that we get this over with. The photographers are waiting, she said. Izuku was kind enough to offer to go and fetch you for me."

Shouto snorts. "Was he."

Slowly, they start to sway to the music.

It's not really dancing; that would require rhythm and intent, some predetermined pattern of movements for them to have learned and prepared, and while Shouto probably could have found the time to work it into his schedule, he hadn't particularly cared to.

Instead, they simply move in a circle in the middle of the dance floor, the rest of the crowd giving them a berth wide enough to make Shouto a little self-conscious, and talk.

It's nothing important.

Rei comments on the simplicity of the ceremony, the building's lovely architecture. She says that he looks good in his suit, and that Inko's dress is lovely, and tactfully doesn't mention the glaring absence of a certain retired flame hero. By the time the song's come to an end, they've covered all of the usual topics, checking in with one another in that simple way they've developed over the years, and Shouto steps back to let her go -

But Rei holds him fast.

"Shouto," she murmurs. "My sweet boy."

"…Mom?"

She raises a hand to palm his cheek, her thumb just shy of the scar on his cheek; she's never been able to bring herself to touch it, her fingers trembling even now.

Sometimes, Shouto wonders if it still scares her.

If he scares her, if the sight of his face is sometimes still too much for her to bear. He doesn't think he'd blame her if it was.

But when he forces himself to meet her gaze, there's nothing in her eyes but love; there's nothing there but joy, so happy for him that there's silvery tears swimming against her lower lashes, and Shouto's breath catches in his throat.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile like this," she confesses. "Are you happy, Shouto?"

Shouto glances up, looking to where Izuku is standing across the room.

Though he's absently plucking at his bowtie, running his fingers through his hair and ruining all the work Ashido and Hagakure had done to tame his unruly curls, he looks as handsome as ever. He fills out the dark gray suit Momo had chosen for him wonderfully, wide shoulders stretching the fabric near to bursting, and it's hard to miss the way he's bouncing from one foot to the next in eager anticipation.

He relaxes a bit, when their eyes meet.

His expression softens, movements going still as he raises an eyebrow and motions towards where Shouto and his mother are standing still in the middle of the room; it's a question and an offer all in one, and Shouto nods, his answer already on his lips.

"I'm happy," he says, unable to help the smile that stretches across his face. "I don't always feel I deserve him, or know what I did to catch his eye, but… Izuku chose me anyways. He wants me. He loves me."

Rei shakes her head, patting his cheek one last time before stepping out of his arms.

"Being loved by someone isn't necessarily about what you deserve, Shouto," she says. "It's about how you make them feel, how you make them better just by being there, and this thing you and Izuku share, this bond?" She smiles. "I don't think I've ever seen anything stronger."

She squeezes his hands, politely ignoring the way Shouto's own eyes start to water.

"Take care of each other," she advises. "Talk to each other, and above all else be kind; you have to remember that no one has all the answers, and we all make mistakes."

"I will."

Rei smiles at him. "Good. That's the secret, I think - the only one that means anything. Communication and trust. Take those to heart, and you two will always, always be happy."

The advice is simple, touching.

Coming from his mother, who's suffered through both an unkind marriage and a highly publicized, nasty divorce, it means everything, and Shouto nods, choking on a noise he doesn't mean to make as she makes her way back to her seat.

In the span of the few short moments he has until Izuku comes to take her place, he tries to get ahold of himself. He blinks, furiously, and takes a deep breath -

"Hey. Everything okay?"

Izuku glances up at him, one of his hands finding its way to Shouto's elbow.

The touch is relaxing, grounding in a way that sets most of Shouto's emotions at ease; he finds himself sinking into it with that same overwhelming sense of peace he always gets when Izuku is near, and when he spots the way Izuku's bitten his lip to shreds, how his cheeks are stained a mouth-watering shade of pink he can't possibly blame on the champagne, not with his metabolism, he sighs, fond.

"Maybe I should be asking you that," he muses. "You seem nervous."

"Nervous? Me?" Izuku grins at him. "C'mon, Shou - when have I ever been nervous?"

Shouto blinks at him, rather owlishly.

"This morning, when you got to the coffee shop and realized you'd forgotten your phone, so you'd have to try and remember everyone's order from scratch."

"O-oh." Izuku frowns. "Well, that's - it was a lot of coffee."

"And then again last night, when you spilled tea all over your tie and ran into the bedroom in a panic, worried you wouldn't be able to get the stains out in time."

"Wait, are you keeping track?"

"Only about the important things."

Izuku laughs, shaking his head - but the tension bleeding from his shoulders breaks a bit, softened by Shouto's meager attempts at a joke. He shoots Shouto a grateful look as he pushes up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to Shouto's lips, his smile small but true.

"I guess I just want to make sure you're not having second thoughts about all this," he admits.

"Izuku," Shouto admonishes, wide-eyed.

"I know," Izuku says quickly, throwing his hands up. "I know, we've been over this a hundred times! But… we figured this out kinda late, yeah? Like, we went on exactly two dates before we moved in together and got engaged, for crying out loud, and I'm just, you know - " He makes a slashing motion, catching both of them in the wide span of the gesture. "Me."

"…you," Shouto repeats.

"I'm, um… nothing special, really?"

"You're the new Symbol of Peace. Japan's number one hero." Then, because he likes to tease Izuku whenever he can, he adds, "GQ Japan did a spread devoted to yours abs just last month."

Izuku winces. "You're never gonna let me live that down, huh?"

"It was a very good spread."

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Izuku elects not to comment on the magazine article Shouto has framed in an alcove above their dining room table.

"C'mon, Shou. You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Shouto asks, bemused.

"I have - back pain. My ankles are shot from too many rough landings. I snore, and I need glasses, and my knees pop every time I get out of bed in the morning." He shakes his head, sighing. "It's embarrassing, you should divorce me."

"We haven't even submitted the marriage registration yet," Shouto points out.

"Then maybe you should run away while you still can!"

Shouto blinks. "Because your knees pop?"

"Because I'm - old and worn out!"

Shouto raises an arm at that, leveling Izuku with a very unimpressed stare as he shows off the scars littering his hand and lower arm. Most of them are small, sure, the remnants of cuts and scrapes too small to have the healers bother patching up - but there are a couple of nasty ones, too, and that's saying nothing of the bigger, more serious injuries he's fielded over the years.

"We're heroes, Izuku," he reminds Izuku. "Aches and pains are part of the job, and aging isn't a sin."

"I… I know that."

"And isn't that the whole point of getting married? That we can take care of each other as we get older, and make sure we aren't pushing ourselves too hard?"

Izuku purses his lips.

"The point is that I forced you into a stupid pact in high school about getting married to each other if we didn't marry other people first, and now here we are! Cutting the cake and tossing bouquets!"

Shouto pauses, a little taken aback by the vehemence in the other's voice.

"You know that's not true," he murmurs, gently.

Izuku fights it for another moment or two, stubborn to the very end - but then he gives in, shoulders sagging in defeat as he concedes the point. "Yeah. I know."

Shouto reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together.

"I want this as much as you do," he says. "I want you."

"I know. I know that, I swear, I just - sometimes it's still hard for me to believe this is real, you know? Like, I can't believe this actually worked out and we're really here." He pauses to shake his head, a ghost of his former grin returning to his face. "You're so special, Shouto. You're… amazing, and when I stop and think about the fact that we're getting married? That you picked me? It almost seems too good to be true, like it's straight out of a book or something, so I just -" He bites his lip, adorable even when slightly distressed. "I really, really want to make sure that it's your happily ever after, too."

At this point in their lives, Shouto thinks he should be used to Izuku's earnestness. It shouldn't ever catch him so offguard, or leave him feeling like he can't breathe, and yet…

He feels a little weak at the admission, all the same.

"So, um, just to be sure. It's the last time I'll ever ask, I promise, I swear, but - you're not just doing this because of The Pact, right? I'm not - forcing you into anything?"

Shouto almost snorts at that - because as stubborn as Izuku can sometimes be, he knows he's just as mulish. He can stomp his feet and turn his nose up with the best of them, and once he's put his mind to something, it's not so easily swayed. He does not do things he doesn't want to do.

He's just as sure of his bond with Izuku as he was back when they were third years, still just as certain that there will never come a time when he doesn't want to have Izuku at his side.

This is what he wants.

He knows it, deep in his bones, in the heart of his very soul; he wants to marry his best friend, love of his life, to be his lawfully wedded husband - but he also can't quite resist teasing Izuku a bit, not when he makes it so very easy, the lingering tension the question evokes just begging to be broken, and so he keeps his voice carefully devoid of all emotion as he hums and says, "Actually… I think you're right. This was a mistake."

Izuku freezes, his eyes going wide.

"Shouto!" he chokes. "I was - I was being serious!"

Shouto takes a step closer, using his hold on Izuku's hand to pull him into his arms.

"So was I," he reasons. "What were we thinking, putting Denki in charge of the playlist? Or telling our classmates it's an open bar?" He sighs, shaking his head. "We could have just eloped and given my father an ulcer. Now we're never going to get those security deposits back."

Izuku splutters for a moment, very red in the face - then he chokes out a noise that's half-laughter, half-wheeze, pinching at Shouto's side as all the breath's punched from his lungs.

"Asshole," he grins, once he can talk again. "Shouto, you asshole -"

Shouto catches his hands before they can pinch him again, using his long limbs to great advantage.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?" he counters. "Do you think I'm old and worn out?"

Izuku swallows, thick, and shifts his arm so that Shouto's holding his hand again instead of his waist.

"Of course not," he murmurs. "Of course I want to marry you, I - I love you."

Shouto gives his palm an encouraging little squeeze, chancing a smile.

"Are you certain about that? I may not have back pain, and I don't think I snore - but I did find a few split ends this morning when Momo was helping me with my hair."

Sensing the moment's passed, Izuku sighs.

He shakes his head, pulls Shouto in close, and presses his forehead to his chest, shoulders shaking with what Shouto thinks is silent laughter as they start to dance, swaying gently under the dimming lights.

"Okay, okay - I get it, you can stop now. You've made your point."

"Good."

Izuku clicks his tongue.

"I can't believe no one ever realized how big of a brat you are. It's your greatest accomplishment, that you've kept it to yourself all these years; you are - unbelievable, Shouto Todoroki - "

Shouto shakes his head, his chin settling atop the crown of Izuku's head.

"Shouto Midoriya," he corrects, and oh -

That was a mistake.

A big one, actually, because Izuku promptly bursts into tears, ruining Shouto's tie and turning the crimson of his vest a darker shade of burgundy. It takes him the better part of five songs to regain his composure, and when he finally pulls back enough to look up at Shouto, his eyes are still a little watery.

"I love you," he chokes. "I love you so much, what the fuck -"

Shouto hums, content, and swipes a gentle thumb over his cheekbone.

"I love you too, Izuku."

Truthfully, Shouto's a little embarrassed to remember how it had all started.

He hates to admit that Enji Todoroki was the impetus for the happiest realization of his life, because he doesn't really like giving his father credit for much of anything - but he also can't deny that it was the man's pathologically dogged behavior that had eventually spurred him into action, so.

Credit where credit's due, he supposes.

It all comes to a head one dreary, fall afternoon, after a long day of desk work.

Nearing sixty at this point, and unable to fight on the front lines because of the injuries he'd sustained in the war, Enji Todoroki had long since retired from active hero work. He'd kept to himself for the most part, working with Hawks and the revamped Hero Commission to guide the current generation of heroes while still managing bits and pieces of his old agency along the way; Shouto had thought it surprisingly benign of him to step back like that, to let Midoriya and Bakugou and the others take up the torch of the number one hero -

But it wasn't entirely altruistic, as he's come to find out.

Taking a step back from active work just meant that Enji had more time to devote to his supposed atonement, and so he'd spent the better part of the last ten years trying to make it up to his family, trying to get them to see him as less of a monster and more of a human being.

It… wasn't quite working out for him.

And to be clear, Shouto doesn't begrudge his father for trying to change; while he's not certain everyone deserves a second chance, he's not about to tell him not to try and make it up to them.

But just because Enji wants to change doesn't mean that he can.

Old habits die hard, after all.

It's hard to give up on a dream you've been chasing your entire life, and that's never more apparent than when he's trying to get Shouto to meet people.

"What about Hinoko?" he asks that evening, just after Shouto's finally sat down on his couch. "Have you had a chance to look at the file I emailed you last week? What do you think of her quirk?"

Shouto sighs and switches the phone from one ear to the other.

"I don't know," he admits. "I haven't read over the email."

"Because you're not interested in her?" Enji presses. "Do you find her quirk unsuitable with yours?"

"Because I don't care," Shouto corrects, irritated.

"Shouto."

He grits his teeth at the way his father's voice grates on his nerves; even now, after all these years, it still takes him straight back to that training room. It takes him right back to all those times he'd spent curled up in a ball on the floor as a child, vomiting his guts out as he pushed himself too hard, too fast in order to try and live up to the man's impossible standards.

It's the annoyance that really gets him, he thinks.

It's the idea that Enji's being the reasonable one here, that it's Shouto who should feel bad for throwing his father's attempts at arranging a marriage for him back in his face.

That he was inconveniencing the man.

Unfortunately for him, Shouto's inherited his stubborn streak along with his quirk.

He refuses to do things he doesn't want to do anymore, and after nearly fifteen years of healthy, lasting relationships with his friends, he isn't afraid to advocate for himself.

He isn't afraid to say no.

But neither is Enji about to give up.

"You'll be thirty-four next year," he reminds Shouto. "You're at the point where things start slowing down. They'll move you off the active duty rosters by the time you're forty, encouraged to orchestrate rather than lead the attacks. Then they'll give you desk jobs and talk to you about pension plans, which means it's more than time that you give up on this ridiculous notion of spending the rest of your life alone and find yourself a suitable wife."

Shouto rolls his eyes at the wall and sinks a little farther down into the sofa cushions.

"I'd rather not," he retorts.

"Children are a blessing."

"Is that why you had so many?" Shouto snorts. "Because they're a blessing?"

Enji huffs out a breath, refusing to take Shouto's bait.

Pity.

"That quirk's been passed down along the Todoroki line for decades. I shouldn't have to remind you that letting the gene pool die with you would be the height of insolence, even for you -"

"And I shouldn't have to remind you that you have two other children who can pass on those genes, both of whom already have kids of their own. You don't need me for that."

"Shouto -"

"Aki, Ryotaro, Koji. Hana and Mitsuki. I don't think Natsuo and his wife have picked out a name for their third child just yet… but I'm not certain. I haven't spoken to him in several days."

"You think being a brat will rile me up," Enji accuses. "You think you're being cute."

"I think I'm being reasonable," he retorts. "Being cute is just a bonus."

The sigh that earns him is magnificent, truly. Shouto considers it a small personal victory to have been the one to draw it out, adds it to his mental tally of times where he's deeply exasperated Enji Todoroki.

But then the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

It throws him for a loop and tilts his entire world on its axis.

"You know, I'm beginning to think you don't like women that way."

"…what?"

"Your well-documented tendency to needle me at every given opportunity is one thing - it's expected, even, after everything that I've done. But your outright refusal to let anyone else into your life is another."

Shouto's too startled to speak for a moment. He can't come up with a retort.

Instead, he sits there, a little stupid, and tries to piece together what the old man was really saying.

"Are you… asking if I'm gay?"

"I don't know," Enji drawls. "Are you gay?"

Shouto thinks about it for a moment. He has to sit back and really consider the question, the answer not at all automatic, which… in hindsight, is probably pretty telling.

Because this is the sort of thing he's supposed to be able to rattle off at the drop of a hat, yeah?

This is one of those things he's supposed to just kinda know, by virtue of existing and having a lived experience he could remember and consult; similar to the way that he just knows that he dislikes radishes, and can't hold a tune to save his life, and stands roughly two meters tall, he's supposed to know whether or not he finds other men attractive and wants to date them, and yet -

He doesn't.

He doesn't know whether he likes men that way, because he's never really stopped and thought about anyone that way - not with any recognizable sort of pattern or frequency at least, and now here he sits, having a minor panic attack on his couch as he tries to figure out a way to explain all of that to his very blunt, not at all introspective father.

"I'm… not sure," he finally says.

The sound Enji makes then is short, derisive. It really ticks Shouto off.

"I'm not - not gay."

"For god's sake, Shouto -"

"I think maybe we should consider me both gay and not gay until I figure it out. I am Shrodinger's gay -"

"Most children figure this sort of thing out when they're teenagers."

Well, yeah. Sure.

But when was Shouto's childhood anything approaching normal? When was he supposed to have had the time to figure out who he was and wasn't attracted to?

There's an old psychological hierarchy he remembers Midnight bringing up in one of their classes, this idea that you can't experience higher order wants if your more basic needs aren't being met. If you don't have water, your body doesn't bother prioritizing shelter; if you don't have food, you don't have time to worry about companionship. And if you're being pushed so hard during your training sessions that every quick movement feels like an attack, every glance hot as a brand -

"I'm sorry," he retorts, anything but. "I was a little busy fighting a war at the time, and fixing problems you created. I didn't really have the time for a sexuality crisis."

"Well, maybe you should stop and consider the possibility."

Shouto's mouth snaps shut; he hates how much sense the suggestion makes.

"Maybe you should take a good, hard look at what you want out of life, Shouto - especially with all the free time you must have on your hands from not bothering to take up any of your other responsibilities as a prominent member of this family."

And that's it, Shouto thinks.

They've hit the point of the phone call where they can no longer be civil towards one another, when all attempts at conversation just kinda fall apart, and so he doesn't bother saying good-bye to his father. He just hangs up the phone and tosses it aside, too irritated to bother being polite, and smacks a hand over his tired face to rub at his eyes.

He makes it approximately fifteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds before he picks it back up and video calls Izuku.

"Shou! Hey!" Izuku grins at him, sweaty from some sort of workout. Shouto has to try very, very hard not to focus on the damp ring around the collar of his shirt, or how his hair is starting to stick to his forehead, which - another thought to catalogue away for later. Another confusing bit of information for him to try to parse out once he's worked off his frustration with all this talk of marriage. "What's up?"

"Am I gay?"

Naturally, Izuku's not expecting that question.

He chokes on the gulp of water he's just taken, spewing it all over his hands and the camera both before nearly fumbling it right out of his grasp; honestly, it's a real stroke of luck that he manages to catch the damn thing before it drops to floor and breaks (again).

But Izuku is nothing if not good at rolling with the punches.

He bounces back almost immediately, even if his cheeks are a little pinker than before, and says, "You know, that's kind of a loaded question."

Shouto's eyes narrow. "Is it?"

"I mean… do you think you're gay? Are you having gay thoughts about someone, do I need to show you that PowerPoint I made for Iida back when we were in high school -"

"I'm not - no."

Izuku blinks at him, green eyes very, very wide.

"…was that… about the gay thoughts or the PowerPoint? Because I haven't really updated that one in a while, and honestly? I could use some pointers -"

"I'm not having gay thoughts about anyone."

"Oh. I see. And that's, um… good? Bad?"

"I… don't know."

Izuku takes a moment to wipe his face on his sleeve, his confusion obvious even through the phone. It seems to take him a couple of tries to figure out what to say next, and how best to phrase his thoughts, and even then, his voice is hesitant, soft.

"Shou, you know I would never judge you for something like that… right? I mean - I'm bisexual. I've been with both men and women, and there's not - there isn't really a right or wrong way to love."

Shouto nods, staring down at his lap instead of his phone.

Because he does know that.

This isn't new information to him, and though he can admit that he'd grown up sheltered, Enji had mostly just glossed over these sorts of things. He hadn't ever spoken out against gay rights, or said anything particularly denigrating about being queer - not directly, at least, far more concerned with Shouto being strong than who he was interested in kissing.

But something about the way he'd spoken to Shouto pricks at his feelings.

It stings, makes him feel like a child all over again for not knowing what he does and doesn't like - because that also seems like something he's supposed to know, what he's attracted to in a person something else he's supposed to have figured out at some point between puberty and now. He's supposed to have some kind of list drawn up, a set of bullet points and green flags he looks for whenever he goes out on dates and trawls through profiles and looks for potential partners on the dating apps Denki recommends, except -

There haven't been any dates.

There hasn't been any times where he's swiped right on a suitable profile, because he's always had something more important to do; he doesn't have time to go out and meet people organically, quite often forgetting the apps nearly as soon as he downloads them for the same exact reasons, and he definitely doesn't like going to those terrible hero mixers that Izuku's always offering to sign him up for.

He feels ashamed abruptly, his irritation fading fast.

He kind of wants to go crawl into his bed and hide away for the rest of the night, and judging from the soft, inquisitive noise Izuku makes, it's written all over his face.

"Hey," he murmurs, kind. "Shou, look at me, can you - can you do that for me?"

Shouto glances up.

"Can you tell me what you're feeling right now?"

"…what I'm feeling?" Shouto repeats.

"Yeah. Try to put it into words."

Shouto replies before he can really think about it, even more blunt than usual.

"I feel embarrassed," he says. "I feel - stupid."

Izuku nods at him, encouraging. "Okay. And why are you feeling embarrassed and stupid?"

"Because I'm thirty-three fucking years old."

"So?"

Shouto glances away again. "I'm thirty-three, and had to ask my best friend whether or not I was gay because I don't know. My father's getting tired of my constant refusals to accept a quirk marriage, and today he asked if it was because I like men, and I had to sit there and tell him I don't fucking know -"

Izuku whistles, eyebrows sky high as he comes to some sort of realization.

"Oh," he breathes. "Oh, wow, okay - I think I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I think I understand what's going on better now! And I might even have some answers for you, because you've told me a little about everything with your dad, but - I'd really rather talk about this in person? Face to face? I mean, I just think it might be better that way, and I'm also kinda stuck in between the sweaty yoga mats and the fire extinguishers, because that's the only place I can hear you and get good reception, and I'm starting to get some weird looks, so… can I swing by your apartment later? After I've taken a shower and grabbed us something to eat?"

Shouto hesitates.

He trusts Izuku implicitly, obviously, and is more comfortable around him than anyone else.

But he's not certain he's going to be very good company right now.

He knows how he tends to clam up and withdraw, even now, when he's reminded of how different his childhood was from the way the rest of his classmates grew up, and while he doesn't really ever raise his voice, because yelling without cause reminds him too much of other things from his childhood that he'd much rather forget, he knows he can be - morose, when he gets irritated.

Petulant, as Momo's said. Maybe a little hard to be around.

Again, Izuku seems to sense his worries, the low hum he makes into the phone to remind Shouto he's still on the line comforting rather than pressing. Once he's caught Shouto's attention, he smiles.

"I can bring you so-ba," he sing-songs, teasing. "I mean, assuming you haven't eaten, or if you're even hungry after all that -"

Shouto huffs. "I'm always hungry for soba."

Izuku's grin deepens, like he already knew what Shouto was going to say.

"I know," he says. "That's why it always works as a bribe."

Shouto rolls his eyes, scowling down at the screen - but Izuku's already rattling off his time table, the camera bobbing in his hands as he makes his way towards the locker rooms. He only just remembers to turn it off before he pushes through the doors and causes a minor privacy incident, and then Shouto's alone with his thoughts again, forced to recall his father's words in excruciating, terrible clarity as he slumps over onto his side and curls up into a ball.

Is he gay?

Is he… not straight?

Hmm.

The more he thinks about it, the more Shouto thinks it's maybe not so obvious after all.

Because normally, a person would just look back on the sort of people they'd had crushes on in the past, who had made their hearts start to flutter and given them butterflies in their stomachs. They would have some kind of baseline upon which to judge themselves.

But Shouto had been so isolated as a kid.

He'd been homeschooled for most of his life, the only other children he'd had for companions his brothers and sister, maybe the occasional cousin on certain family trips; he wasn't even allowed to talk to them save for a few scant hours each week, and while he'd been allowed out of the house every now and then, for very specific things, he was always given very strict time allowances, a very stringent set of rules and regulations that he had to follow in order to not invoke his father's wrath.

He hadn't had time to dawdle at the convenience store and talk to the boy combing through the colorful mochi in the freezer.

He hadn't dared ask the girl at the park where she'd gotten her cell phone charm.

The first time he'd really been allowed to interact with people his own age had been when he'd gotten to UA, and hadn't that gone well? He'd frozen nearly half the class solid at one point or another, prideful and angry and all sorts of cold, and after that -

Well.

Things had noticeably improved after the first sports festival, when he'd finally found a group of people that liked him for who he was and not what he could do.

But the League of Villains had kept them on their toes.

They'd hardly ever been given time to recover from one crisis before they were barreling headfirst towards another, and even after they'd started to pick up the pieces, slowly rebuilding the society that Tomura Shigaraki and All for One had tried so very hard to destroy, things had been - difficult. It had been a hard time to be a hero, and their class wasn't spared just because they were teenagers.

Sometimes, Shouto thinks it might have been harder.

He wonders how much that single incident might have set them all back, scarred them - just as he wonders how much suffering people like Izuku and Bakugou had hidden.

A lot, he's willing to bet. As much as it had hurt him, maybe more.

But regardless of how terrible the immediate aftermath of the war had been, it hasn't stopped either of his closest friends from continuing to grow as people. It hasn't kept Bakugou from staking a very broad, very public claim on Kirishima or Izuku from dating around.

In contrast, Shouto has maybe stagnated a bit.

He's kept to himself, focusing on first his hero work and then rebuilding his relationships with his mother and siblings in the wake of Touya's death, and while there's nothing wrong with that, the biweekly sessions he has with Dr. Hoshi probably long overdue, it's also put a definite damper on his attempts to debut into the hero dating scene.

It's taken up a lot of his time and energy, and now, fifteen years later -

He's still alone.

Shouto sighs, snuggling into one of his favorite throw pillows.

Because he's not… opposed to the idea of exploring love and intimacy with another person. He certainly doesn't want to be on his own forever, and so long as it felt right, someone he trusted and felt comfortable with, he thinks he could quite happily share his life with someone else.

But how is he going to find someone like that?

How is he supposed to date someone he doesn't know to build trust with them he doesn't have if he can't bring himself to figure out who he wants to date and is attracted to in the first place?

It just seems a little circular.

It definitely doesn't seem like anything he'd be able to find among the hordes of women his father has attempted to set him up with over the years. Getting a file on their quirk and family history isn't the same thing as getting to know a person, after all, and that's -

That's really important to Shouto.

It's really important that he knows someone before he lets them into his life, that he feels safe around them. He wants to have some sort of assurance that they aren't going to hurt him, and while he's spent a lot of time and effort working on the realization that not everyone he meets is a potential threat, if he can't have even that base level of security, well.

What's the point?

With a frustrated groan, he twists to lay on his back so he can stare up at the ceiling. It offers up very few solutions for his current problem - but looking at the little black spot in the corner reminds him of the little black spot on the bottom of his front door, and thinking about the door has him wondering whether or not he left it unlocked when he got home earlier.

He'll need to get up and check.

He needs to make sure it's open for Izuku, because a quick glance at his phone tells him that he's already spent the better part of the hour wallowing, and his friend will be here soon; he needs to get on with the rest of his evening, and so he pushes up to his feet with a soft, sad sort of sigh, dramatic in his solitude -

But then he remembers that Izuku has a key.

He can let himself into Shouto's apartment at will, because he trusts Izuku with his life and had given him the spare that came with the unit, and isn't that the sort of thing he's looking for in a potential partner? Isn't that what he needs, regardless of gender?

Shouto snorts, wry.

Because this would be so much easier if he could date one of his friends, someone who already knew all of his idiosyncrasies and wouldn't judge him for being quiet or blunt or awkward. If he could just - find someone like that, he thinks, it would solve all of his problems. He could stop having to worry about being on his own for the rest of his life, not to mention how it would shut the old man right up about his stupid marriage arrangements, and like -

Huh.

What a thought.

It sticks with him right up until the moment Izuku barrels his way into the apartment, several bags filled with takeout hanging from his arms and a backpack slung over a broad shoulder. Both come dangerously close to slipping to the floor as he shucks off his shoes and tries to free himself from his jacket.

"Do you… need help?" Shouto offers.

"Nope!" Izuku chirps. "I got it!"

"…you look like you need help."

Izuku rolls his eyes and pads down the hall in a bit of rush, setting the food on the table just as one of the bags rip in half. The contents spill across the wooden surface, a box of dumplings ruining the stack of junk mail Shouto had carelessly tossed aside earlier, and Shouto sighs.

"This is way too much food," he offers, heading into the kitchen to grab their usual drinks - a milk tea for him, and a soda for Izuku. "We can't eat all that."

"You can't," Izuku scoffs, pulling out a couple of chairs. "But I can, because today was bi's, tri's, and thighs, and I am starving."

As if to prove his point, he pulls the lonely box of dumplings towards himself; he digs a pair of chopsticks out of one bag and a wad of napkins out of the other, and after making sure he's not going to make an even bigger mess all over Shouto's dining room table, he fishes five out at once and stuffs them in his mouth.

Shouto snorts at that - but everything smells really good, and Izuku had gone out of his way to get him something that he liked, so.

Best not to let it go to waste.

They work their way through the rest of the food in relatively quiet companionship; Izuku offers up a few stories from his patrol shift the night before, and Shouto tells him about the highlights of the stack of paperwork he'd worked his way through that morning - namely, that he'd managed to sign off on fifteen different copies of the same two reports without giving himself some kind of papercut in the process.

It sounds like less of a triumph than it really is, and he hopes Izuku doesn't think he's mocking him - but Izuku just smiles, as if Shouto's very boring day is just as entertaining as the action-packed take-down of a criminal gang he'd just described. He seems just as invested in Shouto's life as Shouto is in Izuku's, just as interested in hearing the outcome of his final, almost disastrous trip to the front office when he nearly put the completed reports back in the intake bin.

He asks plenty of questions, even when there's not really anything to question, and that's -

Nice.

It's really, really nice, Shouto thinks, soothing in a way he hadn't known he needed. It eases the last bits of irritation clinging to his shoulders, and sets his posture at ease.

But maybe that was the point.

Maybe Izuku had wanted to get him comfortable before he brought out the big guns, which -

"So, your dad's bringing up marriage again, huh?"

Shouto grimaces.

"He never really stopped," he admits.

Izuku whistles, shaking his head. "You know, I'm almost impressed. The guy really doesn't know when to quit, even if we've made quirk marriages all but illegal in the past few years - which isn't to say that he's, like, a role model! That was just an observation, not praise."

"He seems to think if he finds the right woman, I'll just - give in. Accept it."

Izuku hums, considering.

"And will he, you think?" he asks, head tilting to the side. "Find the right woman?"

Shouto knows what he's really asking.

He knows that in giving Shouto an hour to himself, an hour to think this over in a little more detail, Izuku's given him a chance to get a bit closer to the truth.

And when he glances up at his friend and exhales out a shaky breath, his answer feels a little more realistic when he says, "I don't think so. No."

Izuku nods.

"Not that I think he'll find the right man, either," Shouto quickly adds. "I don't think he - I don't think there's anyone he could find that I'd want to marry."

"Because he doesn't know what you like?"

Shouto snorts. "Because I don't know what I like."

Izuku shifts around in his chair a bit, leaning forward. He looks almost eager as he folds in hands together in front of himself, staring up at Shouto with wide eyes.

"You said that earlier," he says. "On the phone, you - said you didn't know what sort of person you'd be interested in dating. Can you… explain what you meant by that?"

Shouto frowns at the question.

Because what else could he possibly explain? How could he be any more clear?

He asks as much, and Izuku makes an understanding noise.

"Well, okay, so like - when you say you don't know what you like, do you mean that you just don't know what your type is? Like, tall, dark, and handsome? Bombshell, athletic, rockstar? Or… did you mean you're not interested in people at all? Those are different things, I think."

"I…"

"And even if it isn't the dating aspect of relationships that makes you uncomfortable, and you do want to find that kind of connection with someone, there's still the whole - you know." Izuku clears his throat, going a little red in the face. "I mean, there's sex."

"…right."

"But we don't have to talk about that if it makes you feel weird! We can - gloss over it a bit, if that's not something you, um… want to talk about. If it's, you know - TMI."

Shouto shoots him a bemused sort of look. "TMI."

"Too much information…? It's an English initialism, sorry -"

"I know what it means," Shouto says, shaking his head. "I just - Izuku."

"…yeah?"

"You've seen me naked."

For some reason, Izuku blushes at that. He squeaks, goes very red in the face, and smooshes his cheek against his folded hands, the same way that he had when they were kids and something even mildly embarrassing or suggestive happened in the dorms.

"Oh, god," he groans.

"You've helped me get undressed, and helped me bathe, and even stood watch outside the damn door while I went to the bathroom that one time when I hurt my back and couldn't be left alone for long."

"I mean - yeah? So?"

Shouto shrugs. "I think we're past the point of TMI when it comes to basic bodily functions."

Izuku wrenches his face up and out of his arms with the same breakneck speed he'd hidden himself away; he glares at Shouto, and though it's not particularly threatening, or even the least bit intimidating, Shouto still finds himself a little taken aback at his vehemence.

"Okay, so - for the record, I'm really glad that you feel that comfortable around me. Because a lot of people wouldn't! A lot of people would think it's really weird that we're talking about this, even though we've been friends for - god, fifteen years now? Sixteen?"

"Eighteen."

"God, eighteen? Really? But no, wait, shoot, I'm getting off topic here - that isn't the point! The point -" Izuku gasps, very red in the face, "- is that there's a world of difference between seeing your best friend naked and talking about all of the things that make him cum!"

"…ah."

"And like, I talk about sex all the time, sure. With lots of people. But you aren't, um… lots of people, and I really want this conversation to be about you, so I just - I want to meet you where you're at, you know, and not… not overstep."

"You… do?"

Shouto frowns - because in all of the conversations he can recall having had with Izuku in the past, sex hasn't featured in any of them. He can't remember a single time they've ever talked about this sort of thing, not one single occurrence, even when they'd been hormonal little shits back in high school and every other problem felt like it all circled back to feelings and urges.

And it's not that Izuku is shy.

Though he blushes and stammers his way through all sorts of conversations, Izuku is an extrovert through and through; he can find something to talk about with just about anyone, even if he does get excited and ramble, and he's really, really good at connecting with people.

It's something Shouto's always admired about him as a hero - that charm, that charisma.

It comes out a lot when he has to talk to people about difficult subjects, his earnestness something that can't really be faked, and so if Izuku's telling him that he's been out here talking to other people about sex and relationships, like it's a perfectly normal facet of human behavior, because it is, Shouto believes him.

He trusts him, knows that he wouldn't ever lead Shouto astray -

Just as he knows that he himself has to be the problem here.

He's the reason they don't talk about sex, something he's said or done has warned Izuku off this particular subject; there's no other explanation for why this wouldn't have come up at some point - any point - in their near twenty years of friendship, nothing else that makes sense.

And Shouto isn't sure how to feel about that.

"Hey," Izuku interjects, not missing the way his shoulders tense. "It's not you, Shouto. There's nothing wrong with you, I'm not - "

Shouto snorts and glances away. "Isn't there?"

"Of course not."

"But you don't feel like you can talk to me about this. You don't think I'd - want that."

Izuku's nose scrunches up as he scratches at the back of his neck, a little sheepish.

"I mean, I didn't, no. Because the only times you've ever brought dating and relationships up in conversation was when you talked about your parents, and so I guess I just assumed you… had bad feelings about that kinda thing? Like, negative connotations? Which is maybe a little presumptuous of me! I shouldn't have assumed, I shouldn't - I'm sorry."

Mollified, Shouto nods.

"I just didn't wanna pry, or make you feel bad. And anyways, we're, um… talking about it now, aren't we?" he points out. "That's what we gonna talk about tonight, because it's long overdue and you've got some questions that need answers."

"…I guess."

Izuku smiles, reaching out to pat his knee.

The touch is more comforting than it probably should be, and Shouto can't help but press in closer, allowing it to linger.

"How do we start, then?" he asks, once he feels brave enough to speak.

Izuku frowns, tapping a finger against his lips.

"That's… a good question. I could… tell you what I like, if that would help? Like, what I'm attracted to in a person, the kinda things that - turn me on."

Not sure what else to say, and thinking that's as a good a starting point as any, Shouto nods.

"Okay, so… what I like." Izuku hums. "I mean, I don't think there's a lot that stands out; I'm attracted to lots of different kinds of people. But… there's muscles, obviously; I'm attracted to people who work out, and I like having sex with people who can throw me around a little, people who're maybe a little bigger than me - but mostly because I like taking care of them, you know? Like, these big, strong people don't have to feel that way when they're with me, because I'm there to do the heavy lifting."

Shouto flushes a little at that. His stomach does something weird.

He's never really thought of himself as someone who needed taking care of, because he's big and strong and incredibly self-sufficient, but if he didn't have to be strong all the time, if he had some kind of choice in the matter -

Well.

He thinks he might like that.

He might - enjoy getting tossed around, or babied; he thinks he might like getting manhandled.

It's a lot to realize. He has to actively fight not to start steaming right then and there, clutching tight at the fabric of his sweatpants and hoping Izuku hasn't notice.

Luckily, his friend is still rambling on, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he says something about a certain hip-to-shoulder ratio and Doritos that doesn't make a lick of sense before he says, quite succinctly, "Oh, and nice legs are always a plus!"

Shouto clears his throat.

"…legs," he says, a little weakly.

"Nice ones," Izuku corrects. "Long, thick - um, a little like yours, I guess?"

Shouto blinks.

"Not that I'm - not that I'm looking!" Izuku hastily clears his throat. "I am not ogling your thighs, oh geez - but you're pretty tall, and it's always been kinda noticeable how toned you are when you glide around town on your ice, so - yes. Nice legs, you - have them."

"…thank you. I think."

"You, um… have a nice face, too, you know. You're really cute."

Again, Shouto isn't sure what to say.

That weird feeling from before is back, a strange sort of weightlessness in his midsection that reminds him of Uraraka's quirk; if he was red before, his face is definitely starting to feel hot now, a blush quickly spreading over his face.

It's… good, he thinks.

It feels good, to be thought of like that, even if he can't quite explain the how's or the why's that might be, and he starts to thank Izuku again -

But Izuku beats him to the punch, making a frustrated sound as he starts to gather up the empty containers from their dinner; he squishes them up into a tiny little ball, despite the fact that everything's made of hard, relatively inflexible plastic, and then tosses the wad at the garbage can with a little more force than necessary in his irritation.

"This isn't helpful," he huffs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not - this was supposed to be about helping you figure out what you like. And here I am, waxing poetic about your thighs, god - I'm the worst! I'm the worst, I must be making you so uncomfortable -"

"You aren't making me uncomfortable."

"Really?" Izuku wonders, uncertain. "I'm not?"

Shouto shakes his head. "Really."

"Oh. That's good."

Then, like he's second-guessing himself, he peers over at Shouto, eyes narrowed, and asks, "Are you sure? I'm not being a creep?"

"I would never think that."

Izuku snorts.

"And I'm - glad you think I'm cute. I… liked that."

"…you did?"

Shouto nods and looks away; he's not sure why he's saying this.

But for some reason, he feels like he needs to, and so he clears his throat, nods, and adds, "It made me feel good. And you are - also cute, I think. Maybe."

Though he half-expects Izuku to blush and laugh him off at that, he doesn't.

He doesn't do anything of the sort, just staring at Shouto with that single-minded focus that makes him so very good at hero work; he seems to come to a set of conclusions very quickly, fingers tapping against Shouto's knee in a burst of nervous energy, and when he's finally ready to share his findings with the class, he wastes no time in getting straight to the point.

"So, you think I'm attractive, then."

"I… yes?"

"You think I'm cute."

Shouto takes the chance to study Izuku for a moment, really looks at him; he glances over the freckled span of his face, the sharp line of his nose and the fullness of his mouth. His eyes are as bright and green as ever, and though age has sharpened his jawline, and given him some of the height and breadth he lacked as a teenager, there's still a roundness there that reminds Shouto of the boy he'd used to know, a softness that speaks a little of his mother.

He's… beautiful, Shouto thinks. Cute doesn't do him justice.

He says as much, and Izuku's lips twitch.

"Okay," he says, putting a hand to his mouth like he's suddenly fighting back laughter. "Okay, um, thank you, Shouto. That's sweet. But moving on - what about Uraraka, then?"

Shouto blinks. "What about her?"

"Do you think she's beautiful, too?"

Almost unbidden, Uraraka's face comes to his mind; like Izuku's, her cheeks are round and full, and there's a loveliness there that can't be denied. She's very cute.

But where Shouto thinks he could stare at Izuku's face for hours, he doesn't feel the same way about Uraraka. He doesn't feel the same need, that impetus to sometimes look and look and never stop, committing every dot and freckle to memory, and that's -

"Oh," he breathes. "I'm gay."

Izuku giggles, unable to hide it any longer.

"Um, probably," he agrees. "I mean, I always kinda suspected… but we can play this out a little longer, just to be sure! We can think up a couple more examples, so… what about Momo?"

"Pretty, I guess. She has very nice hair."

Izuku snorts again. "And Kirishima?"

Shouto thinks about their fellow hero, recalls the last time they'd worked together in the field; his costume's only gotten smaller as they've gotten older, cut with less and less fabric to give him more freedom of movement on the field, and his muscles have gotten - much larger.

Shouto swallows.

"Mirio? Shinsou? Kacchan?"

Each name gives Shouto pause; his face gets redder and redder as he contemplates each of their friends, and at the mention of Bakugou -

"Fuck," he says.

"Much as I'd love to give you shit for thinking Kacchan's hot, it feels kinda mean to rain on someone's gay awakening," Izuku muses. "And he's also, like, objectively hot, so. I'll be nice."

"I don't want to date Bakugou," Shouto asserts.

"Well, that's good! Considering he's married to Eijirou, and all. I don't think they're looking for a third. I'm also pretty sure Mirio's been dating Amajiki since high school, and Shinsou's head over heels for Denki, for some god-awful reason, so they're out too -"

Wide-eyed, Shouto stares at him.

"Is everyone gay?" he demands.

"Well, Uraraka and I are bisexual, and Ojiro and Hagakure are married. I think… Mina mentioned a guy she'd met in Kyoto the last time we all hung out? Oh, but she's pan, which definitely counts as queer, and then Iida's asexual -"

Vaguely, Shouto recognizes all of these things.

He knows that Kirishima and Bakugou have been together for years now, and also that Kyouka and Momo are married and looking to adopt. He's met boyfriends and girlfriends and significant others, and kept up with his friends' social lives as best as he can.

He's not completely oblivious.

But it doesn't feel great to sit back and realize that everyone else has had it figured out for years now; it sucks to sit there and realize he is - once again, maybe forever - years behind his peers.

It makes him feel very, very small, and also kinda shitty, for reasons he can't articulate.

Izuku catches on pretty quick.

He trails off in the middle of an attempt at an explanation about what's going on between All Might and his mother - something Shouto had certainly not seen coming - and stares at him.

"Shouto," he says, quiet. "Are you okay?"

For one very brief moment, Shouto considers lying.

Not that he's any good at it; he's too blunt for subterfuge, and while he's not always very good at saying what he means or explaining how he's feeling, he'd prefer to just say nothing at all.

But this is Izuku.

This is his best friend, the one person who's always seemed to understand him best - which is maybe why he just shakes his head, jaw clenched tight, and says, "No. I don't think so."

Instantly, Izuku's at his side.

He pulls Shouto's face into his chest, wraps his arms around his shoulders and threads a hand through his hair; the way he urges Shouto to lean into him is achingly familiar, as is the way he scratches gently at his scalp. It's so soft Shouto thinks he could cry.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs after a moment. "I'm sorry, I -"

"No," Izuku says, shaking his head. "Don't apologize, this - this is a lot of big picture moments to go through all at once, Shou. It'd be hard for anyone to process, and you've had a long day."

"All I did was paperwork."

"Yeah, for a drug-busting case you spent the better part of the last three months working on," Izuku points out. "You've gotta be exhausted, even if you're finally catching up on sleep, and throwing your shitty dad in to the mix? All this personal stuff?"

When Shouto pauses to stop and stare at him, he grins down at Shouto and winks.

"Don't look so surprised, I listen!"

He nods, slow.

Because he certainly can't argue with that - Izuku is always, always listening, for what Shouto doesn't say as much as what he does.

He's not sure what he's ever done to deserve that kind of care and attention.

"And I can, um… stay, if you want? Like, I went ahead and brought some stuff over, because I'm working from home tomorrow anyway and I wasn't sure how long you were gonna need me, and… it kinda seems like you still might, so…"

He swallows, pulling back enough to give Shouto room to breathe.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks.

Shouto runs a hand over his face - not so much to deliberate as to press his cold fingers into his worn, tired eye sockets, a jaw that's sore from clenching his teeth so often.

Because it's not really much of a question, is it?

Izuku's companionship is something he will always, always choose, again and again, and so he nods and pushes up to his feet, hands itching to start clearing the table.

"Stay," he agrees, his voice a little shaky as he tries to push those bad thoughts away, to focus instead on the good, the here and now. "Please."

Izuku's smile is soft, knowing.

"Of course, Shouto," he says. "Always."

"You know, it's hard for me, too."

Shouto looks up from his bento, surprised at the sudden change in subject.

It's been several weeks since his sudden realization that he was gay, and he and Izuku have stopped in a local park for a bite to eat. Truth be told, it's a little cold to be outside - but Shouto's not exactly bothered by the cool breeze, and Izuku's always running hot. They're crammed together on a bench near the pond in the back, the wooden frame just a tad too small for two men their size, and it's the first thing Izuku's said to him since they stopped in at that convenience store a few blocks back and bought their lunches.

He's afraid he doesn't quite follow.

"What is?" he asks, once he's swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Dating," Izuku says, picking the wrapper off an onigiri. "Connecting with people, finding time to go out… I've never really gotten the hang of it."

Shouto slowly lowers his chopsticks, frowning.

"I find that hard to believe," he admits.

"Why, because I'm chatty?"

"Because you're you," Shouto corrects. Then, realizing how that sounds, he clears his throat and adds, "I don't think you realize how easy it is to talk to you, Izuku. You pull people in. Put them at ease."

Izuku stares at him, surprised. "Did I pull you in?"

"Obviously," Shouto snorts. "I think if you hadn't, we'd be in very different places right now."

"Mmm. Probably."

He pauses to take a bite of his lunch, washing it down with the soda he cracks open; he looks to be rather deep in thought, and sure enough, when he turns back to Shouto, he looks like he's got a point to make.

"But that isn't really what I meant."

"No?"

"I mean - yeah, I guess it's easier for me to talk to strangers than it is for you. Nervous is kinda my baseline state of being, so that never really stopped me, and after a point, you just - get used to it, I think. It just kinda becomes normal. But our schedules don't really allow for much of a social life, you know? I'm always getting called away to a crime scene, or fielding requests from other countries, other people asking for my help. I'm gone a lot some months. Like - a lot. Most people… don't really understand that."

"Someone would… break up with you over that?"

"Over never being around, working odd hours?" Izuku snorts. "Yeah, Shouto. That's kind of a dealbreaker for a lot of people."

"But you're protecting people. You're - it's part of your job."

Izuku shrugs. "That doesn't mean it's a sacrifice they're willing to make."

Shouto considers that for a moment.

He supposes it makes sense; if someone expected you to put them first, to prioritize their wants and needs over everyone else's, and then you didn't because you were busy being a hero, he can see how that would cause friction in a relationship. He understands how that would create tension.

Maybe that was why heroes mostly dated other heroes.

Maybe it was just easier to date other people with the same sort of scheduling conflicts and responsibilities as you, so you didn't have to explain it to them.

…has Izuku dated other heroes?

He's suddenly burning with the need to find out, more curious than is probably appropriate, but when he finally works up the courage to ask, the answer's not quite what he expects.

"Nah," Izuku says, waving a hand. "My agency takes a hard line on relationships between coworkers, and I think I'd have a hard time dating - most of our other classmates. They're more like… family to me, at this point?" He shakes his head. "It's just weird to think about, honestly."

Shouto deflates a little at that.

Though he has no reason to be, he can't help but feel disappointed at the idea of Izuku maybe thinking of him as a brother, and he quickly schools his face into careful neutrality.

"Ah."

Glancing up at Shouto, Izuku bites his lip. "Have you… ever thought about it?"

"Thought about what?"

Izuku swallows.

"Dating one of our classmates. Or a fellow hero, I guess, just - someone we know."

Shouto can't say that he has; he can't say that he's given it much thought at all, other than the occasional stray thought he's always blamed on too little sleep and too much pent-up energy, too many endorphins. He's not really close to anyone like that outside of a select, chosen few, and even then, most of the time when he gets sideswiped with a sudden desire for physical or emotional intimacy, he's thinking about -

Izuku.

The chopsticks in his hands abruptly freeze and snap in two, sending tiny shards of bamboo and ice all over the remnants of his lunch. Shouto barely has time to blink before Izuku's twisting towards him in shock, something like concern written all over his face.

"Shouto?" he asks. "Did those chopsticks, um… do something to offend you?"

Shouto snorts. "No," he replies. "I just… had a thought, and it - surprised me."

Izuku stares at him, thinking hard.

He kind of looks like he wants to say something, to ask as many questions as Shouto will allow.

But he doesn't - not immediately, anyways.

Instead, he leans back against the bench, crossing his arms over his chest and wordlessly handing over the last of his onigiri. Shouto takes it with a small murmur of thanks, setting his own ruined lunch off to the side with the rest of their trash. He'll have to remember to be careful when he throws it away, so he doesn't give himself splinters.

Shouto happily unwraps the onigiri, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Izuku fidgets and squirms and presses his lips together. He waits patiently for Izuku to say what's on his mind - and sure enough, he opens his mouth just as Shouto's taken a bite, at the worst possible time.

"Must have been quite a thought."

Shouto huffs out a laugh, licking a bit of mayonnaise off his thumb. "It was about you, actually."

"Me?"

"Yes, Izuku. It was about you."

"…oh, c'mon, Shouto. You gotta give me more than that!" Izuku leans forward, excitement making him even bouncier than usual. "Did you use to think about dating me? Did you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Shouto flushes and takes another bite.

"Not exactly - not dating, but… the handful of times I thought about getting close to someone, or thinking about who I could possibly see myself sharing a future with when we were kids, it was always you."

Izuku puts a hand over his heart, mouth wobbling. "Shou."

"It wasn't romantic," Shouto warns. "It wasn't - I didn't have a crush on you."

"Of course not."

"You just - understand me," he explains, glancing down at his lap. "I don't have to explain myself when I'm with you, and you've never made me feel small, or - bad."

Izuku's expression softens then, all traces of teasing gone. He leans in close enough that Shouto's heart rate picks up a bit, the heat of him palpable against his cold right side, and presses a hand to his shoulder.

"That's because you're easy to love," he says. "Being friends with you is the best decision I've ever made."

Shouto swallows. "Even better than choosing to be a hero?"

"Mmm. Wow, that's a tough one. Okay, so… maybe you were the second best decision I made -"

With a scoff, Shouto playfully elbows him in the side.

"- but it's a really, really tight race!" Izuku laughs. "Like, it's honestly not even fair, because I'd been dreaming of being a hero my entire life, even after they'd told me I was quirkless, and then here comes All Might! Offering me his quirk and the chance to follow along in his footsteps! It's impossible, really, like you can't compare yourself to that - because that wasn't really my decision, but you, Shouto, trying to get to know you, to get you to use your quirk…" He shakes his head. "That was a choice."

The onigiri's gone now. Shouto's eaten it all.

It means he has nothing to do with his hands, nothing to hide the violent tremble that wracks its way through his body at Izuku's words; his body flares red hot at the admission, breath hitching in his throat -

But then Izuku's sighing, retreating back to his side of the bench.

He smooths a hand over his face and shoots Shouto a lazy grin, kicking gently at his shin with his heavy, steel-toed boot, and says, "I'd pick you over everyone else too, you know."

It's… gratifying, maybe.

Shouto supposes that's the best word for how the admission makes him feel; he's still warm and tingly from what Izuku had said just moments before, such heartfelt statements tossed around with a sort of casualness that it makes Shouto dizzy. It makes him feel stupid -

Which is maybe why what Izuku says next catches him so off-guard.

He's not sure he's operating on all cylinders here, or that his brain hasn't turned to mush between his ears. He's not certain anything up there is working, because he's pretty sure that Izuku tilts his head to the side then and asks, "Hey, so… this is kinda random, but… do you remember that pact we made when we were third years? The marriage one?"

And that doesn't make any sense at all.

"I…" Shouto pauses, swallowing to ease his suddenly dry throat. "I don't know that I do."

Izuku snorts. "I'm not surprised. Pretty sure we made it at, like, three in the morning while we were trying to finish up a couple of essays for Aizawa. Staring at notebook paper that long always makes me feel like I'm going a little silly, and you were doing that thing where you look like you're falling asleep with your eyes open? You know what I'm talking about - Kacchan always said it was creepy, and threatened to shove an eraser up your nose -"

"Izuku," Shouto interrupts. "Marriage?"

"Right, the pact! The Pact," Izuku reiterates, dropping his voice down to a dramatic whisper and making the capitalization clear. "Yeah, so, I don't really know what we were talking about, or why. But we must have been feeling sentimental about graduation, because we agreed that we'd always be friends, that we'd stick by each other's side and work together as heroes, and if… it worked out that neither of us had gotten married by the time we were thirty, we'd just, um… marry each other?

"Platonically, obviously!" he adds, waving a hand. "It wasn't, like - a proposition or anything. We didn't really go into any details, and you only even agreed after I promised you could decorate the tables with ice sculptures of baby kittens and to ask Momo if she could help make us a cake as tall as you, so."

Shouto frowns at this revelation.

"I'm nearly two meters tall," he points out.

"…um, yeah?"

"What would anyone do with a cake two meters tall?"

"Oh! Well, um, you asked if you could be baked in it, like those - those stupid medieval cakes they made in Europe? With the pigeons that fly out when you cut it open? So I guess we figured the cake would have to be your size for that, and - you're laughing. Oh my god, why are you laughing so hard, are you okay -"

"Izuku," Shouto chokes out, once he's gotten his soft, frantic amusement under control. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Well, don't look at me!" Izuku says, grinning. "It was your idea!"

Shouto clicks his tongue. "What a terrible waste of cake."

"I'm sure Momo would agree."

"Did I also ask if we could serve soba? If we could make the ceremony as non-traditional as possible and exclude my entire family from the guest list?"

"Oh no, you wanted to invite Fuyumi and your mom! Like, Endeavor was out, obviously. That's a given. And you were kinda on the fence about Natsuo, because you all were having that stupid argument about work-life balance again -"

"Wow. I genuinely forgot about that. I think I blocked it from my memory."

"- but then you said you'd need help with the ice kittens! You wanted to make tiny little snowflakes for the gift boxes, too, so - I think we ultimately decided to invite him."

"That's fair."

"We, um… also sealed it in writing, if you're interested. Like, we signed it and everything, government names and all. I think I've still got the paper sitting around in my apartment somewhere."

Taken aback, Shouto frowns. "You do?"

"I think so, yeah. I mean, I don't have it framed and hanging over the mantelpiece like a diploma or something - I'm pretty sure it's just in the box with the rest of my old school things. But it was a funny memory! I wanted to keep stuff like that, just in case - well, you know."

In a strange, detached sort of way, Shouto thinks he get it.

Though that kind of sentimentality is something he's only just recently started allowing himself, he can understand why Izuku would treasure keepsakes like that. In the same way that he's kept all of his hero notebooks, even the ones that are close to falling apart with age, he's wanted to hold on to some of the first truly happy memories that he has, memories they share.

It's sweet, he thinks.

It also seems a little incriminating, because - marriage? Really? Izuku had been quick to write it off as a joke, something stupid they'd come up with when they were kids, and yet…

He'd been just as quick to bring it up now.

Of the two of them, he's the only one to even remember such a thing, Shouto's own memory of this so-called pact nothing more than a vague reminiscence, at best.

Does that… mean anything?

Is he supposed to be reading into this, is Izuku trying to tell him something?

Luckily, Izuku seems perfectly willing to explain himself.

"Anyways, what you said just got me thinking about that," he says, clearing his throat. "Like, talking about sharing a future together, picking each other over other people - it just made me think back to that stupid pact, and like… honestly, wouldn't it just be easier? If that were an option?"

"Marriage?" Shouto asks, just to make sure he's got it right.

"Yeah! I mean, think about it - we're already best friends, so we know we'd get along. And we're also both heroes, so we'd understand how that affects each other's schedules. I wouldn't hold it against you if were stuck working long hours to finish up a case, and you'd understand if I had to suddenly drop everything and fly halfway across the world to work an assignment on other continent, you know? We'd just - get it."

"Yes. Probably."

"Also, you're really cute, and your fire side makes you the best cuddler in the entire world, so - I'm gonna be honest here, Shou, I'm really not seeing a downside!"

Shouto's heart does this - this thing, here.

He's pretty sure it stops altogether for a moment, dropping down to his feet and then rocketing back up towards his chest and getting stuck in his throat. It hurts. It feels a little like he's flying -

But again, Izuku's not being serious, he quickly reminds himself. He's not actually proposing.

That would be - ridiculous, and impossible, and a million other things Shouto can't possibly conceive, and so he gives himself a subtle little pinch on the thigh, a reminder not to get ahead of himself here.

"Oh," he says, a little shaky. "I see."

"Yeah? You get me?"

His eyes slide over to Izuku, and he opts for a teasing tone as he says, "You only want me for my body."

Izuku squawks.

It's his turn to blush, clapping both of his hands over his cheeks as Shouto stares him down, and though he'd meant it as a joke, a harmless little quip to help him feel a little more in control of the fizzy little sparks Izuku's words have sent running through his veins, inexplicably, Shouto can't help but feel a little good about himself at how Izuku nearly trips over both his words and his feet as he jumps off the bench.

"That's not - no! Shouto, I wouldn't - I wouldn't use you like that, you can't - oh, my god."

Izuku scowls, putting his hands on his hips as Shouto shakes with silent laughter.

"Oh my god, you asshole - I thought you were serious for a minute!"

"I was serious," Shouto agrees, grinning. "You said it yourself - you only like me because I'm hot."

"I used to like you because you were hot. Now I'm having serious second thoughts!" He shakes his head, glancing down at the watch on his wrist. "And we are seriously late at getting back to patrol, shit -"

Shouto looks down at his phone, tapping the screen to get it to flare to life. Seriously late is maybe a bit dramatic, some attempt on Izuku's part to get out of the conversation - but they do need to resume their patrol, the afternoon block typically one of the more active shifts they get assigned, and so Shouto gives him the easy out. Together, they pick up their trash and make for the exit to the park, working in relative silence as they head back to work. Shouto doesn't think anything of it, the quiet companionable rather than awkward - but Izuku still shoots him a curious look as they make for the nearest intersection, green sparks gathering along the arms of his uniform as he gathers his quirk to him.

"I'm sorry if that brought up bad thoughts," he offers, a little sheepish. "I wasn't trying to be, like - weird."

Shouto blinks, the ice he'd been about to call fading away. "I didn't think that you were."

"It just seemed like something you'd maybe want to know! Like, something funny we did as kids, just to break the tension." He sighs. "Really, I just wanted you to know that I have problems with dating, too, and that you aren't alone in struggling to connect with people -"

Shouto puts a hand on his shoulder, gives him a gentle squeeze.

"Izuku," he murmurs. "I get it."

"You do?"

Shouto nods and lets him go. "Thank you for comforting me."

For some reason, Izuku blushes at that.

Though he nods and takes a couple of steps away, glancing down at his phone to see if they've gotten any calls for help, he keeps sneaking looks at Shouto when he thinks he isn't looking. His mouth is doing that thing where it keeps opening and closing really fast, like he wants to say something but doesn't know if he should, and when Shouto's had enough, when he clears his throat and murmurs his name, again, he seems to steel himself, shoving the phone in his pocket before giving Shouto his full attention.

"I really would pick you, though," he announces. "If it came to that, if we - wanted it."

Shouto is too stunned to reply.

He just stares, his heart thundering against his ribcage as Izuku wraps a hand around his wrist. It's warm, warm, warm, the touch practically dripping with intent -

"I'd choose you, Shouto."

And then Izuku's jumping up into the air, racing down the street at breakneck speed as Shouto tries (and fails) to pick up the pieces of his once routine afternoon patrol.

Try as he might, Shouto can't forget it.

He can't possibly erase what Izuku had said about choosing him from his mind, the confession burned into his memory like a brand, and worse - he's not sure he wants to.

He's not sure he wants to forget their discussion, because wouldn't that be nice?

As he's asked himself numerous times over the past few weeks, wouldn't marrying one of his closest friends get around so many of the issues he has with trust and intimacy?

And again, Shouto knows that Izuku doesn't mean anything by it.

He knows he only even brought the subject up because they'd been having some kind of moment, because Shouto's been in a weird place the last couple of months and Izuku had wanted to make sure that he was doing okay. That's just the sort of person that he is, always looking out for his friends, and so Shouto forces himself not to think too hard on the marriage pact they'd apparently made in high school.

(Izuku shows him the paper, eventually.

He admits to Shouto that he'd gone home that afternoon and practically torn his apartment apart trying to find it, which… is going pretty far to try and prove a point, Shouto thinks.

But the page was filled with Izuku's messy writing, and adorned with so many tiny drawings of cakes and flowers and kitten ice sculptures that there was practically no free space; Shouto's neat little signature at the bottom was the only bit of orderliness on the whole page, and Shouto couldn't help but laugh when Izuku had showed it to him, so.

He thinks Izuku's plan to cheer him up worked pretty well.)

But something between them's changed.

Something is ever slightly off, the way that Izuku looks at him nowadays just that much softer, that much gentler, and then there's the - touching.

Shouto's never been a particularly tactile person, too many negative associations with it from his past to really seek it out with others. There's only a very small handful of people whose touch doesn't feel like an immediate red flag, and while Izuku's always been near the top of that list, from almost the very beginning of their friendship, he's always been very aware of Shouto's boundaries, his limits. He's never pushed for more contact, even if he's ridiculously touchy with other people.

And it's not the frequency that's changed. It's not the intent.

He's as respectful as ever, telegraphing most of his movements and never venturing beyond what he already knows is acceptable to Shouto. He's still so very thoughtful.

But the way his hands linger suddenly leaves Shouto breathless.

The slow drag of his hand across the bare skin of Shouto's arm has him - trembling, barely suppressing the shudders that threaten to wrack his spine, and the way he hugs Shouto, his warm, solid body fitting so perfectly beneath his chin, makes him - want.

Shouto isn't sure what that means.

He isn't sure what he should read into it, when neither of them had really done anything to merit such a momentous shift in their relationship. Combined with Izuku's words from earlier, the thought of it still lingers in his mind, hanging over him like an insistent little cloud whenever he gets a bit of free time.

He can't help but contemplate the what-if's, daydreaming about a future that's probably not his to have and then getting grumpy when he comes back down to earth and remembers that none of it is real, and worse -

His father's doubled down on the arranged marriage thing.

He seems to have taken Shouto's disinterest as a personal challenge, somehow managing to come up with more and more women for him to profile; he even throws a few men in there after Shouto continues to ignore his messages, and while Shouto knows Enji probably sees this as some sort of peace offering, a quiet acceptance that bypasses the need for a fraught, messy conversation about a complicated topic, that doesn't make him any more amenable to the thought of selling himself off to the highest bidder.

That doesn't make a quirk marriage any more palatable.

Rather, it just makes him irritable, cranky; as fall edges into winter and the phone calls from his old man get more and more persistent, the voicemails longer, he grows downright sullen, and more than one of his friends calls him out on it.

"Shouto, dear," Momo says to him one day at lunch, taking a deep breath to steel herself. "I don't want to pry into something that's obviously private -"

"Then don't."

"- and I know you've had a rough go of it lately with your father. But please, for my own sanity - you really must stop glaring at the interns."

Shouto looks up from his noodle bowl, surprised.

"What? I'm not glaring at them."

Kyouka, who's sprawled out on the bench next to Momo, snorts.

"Dude," she says. "You nearly made Minako cry last week."

"I… did?"

"She spent the whole afternoon in the break room after she asked if she could accompany you on the field and you replied, and I quote, 'only if you want to get yourself killed.'"

Shouto winces, ashamed. "I… said that?" he asks, guilty.

"You did."

"To be fair, you weren't wrong," Momo adds. "Cryptic was a dangerous villain, and Minako's quirk was entirely unsuited to that kind of frontal attack. Telling her to stay here probably saved her life."

"Coulda been nicer about it, though," Kyouka says. "Like, just a tad. Maybe."

"I should apologize," he says. "That was - fuck."

Kyouka waves a hand, unbothered. "Hey, man. It happens. You're under a lot of stress, and that guy kinda attacked out of nowhere. We were all on edge for a bit."

Shouto shakes his head, feeling inordinately guilty for having snapped at their intern.

"I don't want to be like that," he says. "I don't want to treat people that way."

"You don't, by and large," Momo says, laying a hand on his arm. "And for what it's worth, Minako understood your hesitation in the debriefings we held afterward. She told me she was grateful you'd kept her back after she saw the footage of the attack."

"Honestly, the fact that you're torn up about it at all means you're definitely not as shitty a person as you seem to think you are," Kyouka adds.

"I still shouldn't take my frustrations out on other people," he snaps. "I shouldn't - do that."

Momo purses her lips, but it's Kyouka who responds.

"Like you're doing now?" she retorts, and Shouto buries his face in his hands and groans. "I mean, don't get me wrong, dude, I can take the heat. I know you don't mean anything by it. But you've been in a bad mood for weeks now. Something going on we should know about?"

Yes, Shouto thinks. No.

He's not sure, because he's not used to using his friends as sounding boards for his problems. He's not certain whether this is something worth bothering them about.

And normally, he would take his frustrations to Izuku to vent -

But Izuku's tied up in the issue now. He knows what Shouto's father is doing, and also helped him realize he was gay, and then there was that whole marriage pact thing that he'd brought up, so -

Shouto's not sure where that line is anymore. He doesn't want to overstep.

…Momo and Kyouka represent a relatively neutral third party, though. Maybe getting their opinion on everything that's happened in the last month and half would be beneficial, providing him with some of the clarity he desperately needs, and if they're offering…

Shouto glances up, half-holding his breath.

But Kyouka's leaned forward over the table at the prospect of getting some good gossip, and though Momo pretends she's much too proper for that sort of thing, he can see the way she's biting at her lower lip, how her fingers are dancing nervously in her lap. She's just as intrigued with what he might or might not say as Kyouka - she just hides it better, and so Shouto sighs and spills the beans.

They take the news well, all things considered.

Neither of them is surprised with the announcement that he's gay -

("Shouto. Darling."

Momo squeezes his hand and offers up the smallest, possibly least condescending smirk known to man.

"Thank you for finally telling us, and we're glad that you're able to come out on your own terms. But -"

"Dude," Kyouka interjects. "Dude."

Maybe he really was just as obvious as Bakugou has always accused him of being.)

- and while they share a commiserating glance when he explains his father's renewed insistence on an arranged marriage, they don't look particularly shocked by that, either.

It's the bit about Midoriya (The Pact) that has them both jumping out of their seats, though.

Momo claps her hands to her mouth when he explains how Izuku had brought up their silly little arrangement, and when he mentions that he still had the piece of notebook paper, Kyouka makes this - this honking sound, vaguely reminiscent of a goose, that has several interns whipping their heads towards them in mild concern.

"Shut up," she snaps, grabbing onto Momo for dear life. "Shut up, that is -"

"Shouto," Momo exclaims, clutching her wife back just as hard. "Do you know what this means?"

"…does it mean anything?" Shouto cautiously replies. "I thought it was just - an anecdote. Topical."

Kyouka scowls at him.

"Don't be dense," she snaps.

"It does… beggar belief a bit, Shouto," Momo adds. "Midoriya just happened to remember a conversation you and he had in high school? About marriage?"

Kyouka's hands smack down onto the table; she shakes her head at him so firmly her earphone jacks come in real danger of hitting in the face. Momo's only spared because of the hand she throws up at the last second, and she quickly puts a hand on Kyouka's shoulder to hold her back from leaping across the table.

Still, Kyouka can't keep the incredulity from her voice.

"He still has the fucking paper," she gasps, gaping at Shouto. "He - Todoroki!"

"…yes?"

"I think what Kyouka's trying to say is that people generally don't hold on to childhood promises like that without reason, Shouto," Momo says. "People don't - take that sort of thing seriously unless they really, truly meant it. And we… aren't saying that Midoriya's been holding some kind of torch for you all these years, or that his feelings for you necessarily go beyond friendship -"

"Speak for yourself," Kyouka snorts, side-eyeing her wife.

"- but he chose to mention it. He decided to bring it up, apropos of almost nothing, when he could very easily have just kept quiet and tried to comfort you some other way. Maybe that means something."

Unbidden, the words Izuku had said to him earlier come to mind.

I really would pick you, though.

I'd choose you, Shouto.

Is it that simple, he wonders? Is it… like that?

The idea of Izuku harboring some kind of romantic feeling for him all these years is mildly distressing, if not because Shouto's bothered by the idea, then because it's something he can't believe he might have missed; he can't possibly have overlooked something as important as that.

But at the same time -

What if he has?

What if Izuku bringing up the pact is an attempt to grab Shouto's attention? What if it's his last ditch effort to clue Shouto in, to draw some kind of response out of him?

Fuck, he thinks, the vaguest beginnings of panic starting to claw at his throat. Fuck.

But Momo's always been good at bringing him out of his thoughts when he starts to spiral.

Tapping at the table to grab his attention, she smiles at him, a little knowing; her voice is careful when she asks, "Do you want it to mean something, Shouto?"

And that's the whole problem, Shouto thinks. That's the crux of the issue.

Because he doesn't know whether or not he wanted Izuku to have meant it; he doesn't know if that's something he could hope for, and if he's someone that Izuku might actually want instead of someone he just - ends up with, because they've both run out of other options.

That sounds less than ideal.

The very thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth as he sits back and tries to explain to them that he wants to be someone's first choice instead of their last, and once he's articulated his thoughts as best as he can, he looks back to Momo with a sigh.

"I don't know if I want it to mean anything," he finally says. "Maybe?"

He shakes his head, clasping his hands together in his lap.

"I think if I was going to marry anyone, I'd want it to be… someone like Izuku. But I really don't think he was being serious," he adds, not missing the way Kyouka's gone back to gripping at the table. "I don't think he - meant it like that. It wasn't an offer."

"Then… what, you think he was just trying to help a guy out?" she demands. "By reminding you - in very explicit detail - about how he agreed to marry you at one point?"

"He agreed to marry me if no one else did first," Shouto corrects. "It's different."

Kyouka groans and slaps a hand to her face.

"You talk to him, babe," she mutters to Momo. "You explain it, because I fucking can't -"

"Explain what to me?"

"Shouto," Momo says softly, maybe a little reprimanding. "You keep mentioning choice, as if Midoriya would be… settling for you, if you pursued this."

Shouto nods. "Right."

"But have you ever considered that in this scenario, as things stand now, you are his first choice? You did mention that he said he has a hard time dating as well, and it's hard to miss the way nothing's ever really worked out for him before." She shrugs, considering. "Maybe he's looking for something different this time - someone different."

Shouto's eyes go very wide at that; he thinks he actually gapes at Momo a little bit.

Because the truth is, he hasn't stopped to consider that all.

It's not something he's allowed himself, that possibility one he's always, always tamped down, pushed back the very moment his traitorous mind conjures it up, because of what it might imply for his and Izuku's relationship. He can't think about that. He won't, because that just isn't what's happening here.

…right?

"Oh, come on," Kyouka sighs, flicking his forehead until he shuts his mouth. "You said that Midoriya's been particularly attentive lately, yeah? Extra touchy-feely, super cuddly?"

"I - guess so. Yes." Shouto swallows to ease his suddenly dry throat. "He's a good friend."

"Yeah, Shouto. Sure. He's a good friend." Reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, Kyouka snorts and adds, "He's also very obviously and totally falling for you, if he wasn't in love with you already, but hey. Whatever. Denial is a river in Egypt."

Momo sighs and shakes her head.

"Ignore her for the moment, Shouto. Kyouka is feeling particularly vicious today because Denki stole her snacks from the office refrigerator and is taking it out on you -"

"Those chocolates were two hundred yen! Each!"

"But I don't think she's entirely off-base. It does sound like Midoriya feels very strongly about you, and if I may be frank, I've always wondered if those feelings went beyond normal friendship."

"You - think he wants to fuck me?"

Kyouka chokes on her drink, sputtering - but Momo is unfazed, her gray eyes firm.

She completely ignores the way her wife is currently aspirating tea, takes Shouto by the hands, and says, in no uncertain terms, "Darling, I think he might actually want to marry you."

Shouto feels a little like he can't breathe.

There's a weird burning sensation in his throat, one that has nothing to do with his quirk, and when he inhales, sharp, it kinda feels like he's sucking down glass.

"And before you tell me that you can't let that happen, because you won't allow Izuku to settle for you, I want to ask you something. I want you to answer a question for me."

Shouto nods, to show he's still listening, and Momo takes a deep breath.

"I know you haven't worked out how you feel towards Midoriya yet. I know that's something you're still trying to figure out. But if Midoriya has decided he wants to be with you, and you realize that you feel similarly towards him - well, how could that possibly be settling?" she asks. "How could it be a marriage of last resort if it's something you both choose over other possibilities?"

"I…"

"That's all marriage is, in the end," she continues. "It's a choice, one that two people make with each other, and so long as it's one you both make sincerely, I don't see how it's any less valid than deciding to be in any other relationship you could seek out."

"…right."

"Besides," she adds, with a delicate little cough. "Until you speak to Midoriya and ask him directly what he wants, you're robbing him of his own agency in this relationship you all may or may not be falling into by assuming he's not being serious about it."

Ah, Shouto thinks, sheepish. Well.

He supposes she's not wrong about that. He really does need to talk to Izuku, in that scenario.

But that's the thing.

Shouto's not particularly good at talking.

Though it's been years since his awkward high school debut, and he's come a long way since that terrible, closed-off person he'd been as a kid, putting his feelings into words is still difficult for him; it's hard, because his tongue gets all tangled up. It's like he can't remember the words he wants to use, or maybe like he's missing half the necessary vocabulary, and more often than not, he just ends up frustrated.

That's… not how he wants this conversation with Izuku to go.

Not if he expects anything to actually come of it, that is, and isn't that annoying? That there's no other way he can get what he wants?

Shouto makes a low, miserable noise and lays his head on the table.

"I can't do this, Momo," he murmurs. "I'm doomed."

Above him, Kyouka sighs.

He doesn't need to look at her to know that she's rolling her eyes, and even Momo seems a little less sympathetic than he'd have hoped when she just pats the side of his head and says, "There, there."

Then, a moment later, "You can do this, and you will."

"Kinda your only option if you want to put a ring on it," Kyouka adds, and like -

Yeah, Shouto thinks, a little petulant. He gets it, geez.

That is, more or less, how it'll have to go down - but continuing to point it out is just rude.

He decides to ignore Kyouka in favor of glancing up at Momo.

"You really think I have a chance?" he asks, tentative. Clearing his throat, he adds, "Assuming I decide that I want this, that I… figure everything out."

Momo smiles. "Yes, Shouto. I think you have a chance."

"And you think I - you wouldn't think it… strange? Midoriya and me?"

"Honestly, Shouto?" Momo sits back in her chair, her expression wry. "I can't say that that would surprise me at all. It's one of those things that just seems inevitable."

"Like gravity," Kyouka interjects. "Or dying."

"…neither of which is a particularly helpful comparison, love."

"Ah. Shit."

Shouto lets out a low, soft breath, nodding.

"Okay," he murmurs. "Okay, I'll - I'll think about it."

Momo perks up. "Yeah? You will?"

"I'll try to figure out my feelings," he says, pushing up from the cafeteria table to get back to work. "I'll figure out what I want to say, and how."

"Good. Good, Shouto, that is - an excellent decision, I think. And I wish you luck!"

Kyouka snorts, not unkindly, and say what the rest of them are surely thinking, saying the quiet part out loud when she announces, "You're gonna need it."

Again, Shouto decides to ignore her.

Naturally, that's when things get busy again.

Shouto doesn't have time to talk to Izuku for what feels like weeks, even though a look at his call log confirms it's only been a handful of days, and though he could text him, or send him an email, he gets the feeling that this conversation would be better face-to-face. He doesn't want to do this through a screen.

So he waits.

He waits until they both finally get a break in their schedules, taking the time they're forced to spend apart to try and pick his way through the tangled, thorny mess that is his feelings, and then pounces at the first opportunity he gets to invite Izuku over, calling him up as soon as he gets a free minute -

Only for Izuku to promptly beat him to the punch.

"You… want to come over?" he asks.

"Yeah! I mean, if that's okay, if you're not, like - busy," Izuku says. "I just had a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about, and you seemed frustrated the last time we talked on the phone, so I thought some company might help."

"Oh," he says, staring blankly. "I didn't realize I'd been so obvious."

"You wouldn't have been, to most people."

"…but you're not most people," Shouto guesses.

"Nope! I told you, Shouto - I pay attention."

Shouto snorts. "Clearly."

"So, um, was that… an affirmative on coming over? Am I in the clear, do you need a minute?"

"I mean, I'd prefer to change out of my uniform first," Shouto replies, glancing down at the change of clothes in his hands, the beloved sweatpants he still hasn't managed to pull on, despite having been home for close to half an hour now. "But I don't have any plans tonight. Anytime after that is fine."

"Oh, good! I'm glad you're free, because I'm… kinda standing outside your door?"

"Izuku."

"I really wanted to see you!" Izuku laughs. "Also, your apartment's on the way back from my agency, and I was already in the neighborhood, so - you can't blame me for just swinging by, I think. There was a roughly eighty percent chance that you'd be down to hang out, and those odds are in my favor -"

"Eighty percent? That's what you calculated?"

"…roughly."

With a fond snort, Shouto hangs up and sets his phone aside.

He quickly peels off his hero uniform, one of several versions that he wears around the office, and tosses it in the hamper with the rest of his dirty clothes; he puts the sweatpants on as quickly as he can, throwing on an old, comfy t-shirt for good measure, and then sweeps into the bathroom to clean up.

Not that he's particularly dirty -

The only bit of grime he's managed to accumulate after a day doing paperwork is the sticky spot on his right hand where he'd accidentally brushed up against the tape on a box in the mailroom. But some instinct tells him to splash water in his face, to run a hand through his hair and freshen up his deodorant. He stares at the bottle of cologne Izuku had bought him for his birthday for a good two minutes before he finally opts to spritz some of that on too, and then, feeling a little silly, he makes for the front door.

It was a good decision, as it turns out.

Izuku draws him into a hug as soon as he sees him, tucking himself underneath his chin. It puts his cheek right at Shouto's collarbones, and when Shouto wraps a tentative arm around his back, he sighs, content.

"God, I needed that," he hums.

"Long day?" Shouto guesses.

"Long week," Izuku corrects, running his nose along the hollow at the base of Shouto's throat. "Feels like I haven't had a moment to myself in forever, and you - smell really nice, Shou."

He breathes in again, with a little more intent.

Shouto fights very, very hard to stay still, even as his hand twitches where it rests against Izuku's back. He barely dares to breathe as Izuku nuzzles at his neck, only relaxing when his friend finally pulls back and starts taking off his shoes, hanging up his coat, and even then, he finds himself - tense. A little nervous.

"Is that the cologne I bought you?"

Shouto nods. "It's the only one I use."

"Oh? You like it, then?"

"It's nice." Then, a little sheepish, he asks, "Do you like it?"

"That's... why I bought it," Izuku grins.

Right. Obviously.

Shouto bites back a wince, stepping to the side to make a bit more room - but Izuku keeps any further teasing to himself, passing off the bag of food he'd brought with him as they make their way to the kitchen. He makes idle chatter as they work to set the table, telling Shouto about all of the little things he hasn't had the time to relay over the past week or so; by the time he's finished, they've eaten nearly everything he's brought, and Shouto's head feels pleasantly fuzzy.

He can't tell if it's from the food or the company.

Maybe it's a little of both.

Whichever is the case, he's perfectly happy to let Izuku clean up the plates, sinking down onto his couch with a low, soft groan that catches his friend's attention from across the room.

"Eat too much?" he teases.

"You shouldn't have brought the tiramisu," Shouto complains, curling up into as tiny a ball as his large frame will allow. "It was too much."

"But you like tiramisu," Izuku points out.

"Izuku. You brought me four pieces."

"And you ate three, so obviously, it wasn't too bad!"

Shouto rolls his eyes, caught - but Izuku grins at him as he vaults over the back of the couch, plopping down beside Shouto and wrapping an arm around his blanketed legs, and Shouto can never be irritated with him for too long. Also, the way he's propped his chin up on Shouto's knees is - distracting, in more ways than one. It's making him feel very, very strange, and also a little hot, and so he clears his throat, quirking his eyebrows at Izuku as he asks, "You said you wanted to talk to me?"

Izuku blinks.

It seems to take him a couple of minutes to catch on, and when he does, his eyes go wide.

"Oh," he breathes, nodding. "Right, I - I did say that, didn't I?"

Shouto frowns. "Were you lying?"

"No! I just - didn't think you'd want to get into so quickly, I guess." He pauses, sits up a little straighter as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "So, um… how are things with your dad?"

"They… could be better."

Izuku winces. "Yeah… I wasn't, like, trying to pry or anything. But Jirou mentioned something about it when we worked that stakeout together last week. She said he keeps, um, calling? And bothering you about marriage?"

"That's putting it lightly," Shouto snorts.

"I'm sorry," Izuku says softly.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. He just…" Shouto shakes his head, resigned. "Like you said a while back. He doesn't know how to take no for an answer."

Izuku tugs at his legs then, urging them up and into his lap. Shouto moves without resistance, snuggling up into the throw pillow in his lap like it's some kind of shield from his father's scrutiny, and when Izuku settles his hands on his shin, he sighs.

"Did I tell you he started sending me files of other men? As well as women?"

"What? He did?"

"I suppose it's his way of telling me he doesn't care if I'm gay, so long as I up and do my family duty," he deadpans.

"You know, I wouldn't have expected it of the man," Izuku muses, one hand coming up to cradle his chin. "I would have thought he'd be more, I dunno - prejudiced? Bigoted?"

"Endeavor doesn't hate gay people, specifically. He hates everyone, generally." With a thoughtful hum, Shouto adds, "I don't know if that's better or worse."

Startled, Izuku chokes out a laugh.

"Sorry," he says again, still giggling. "I shouldn't laugh, but… he does, doesn't he? He's just so mean, all of the time. Super grumpy, like - who hurt him?"

"I don't think he was hugged enough as a child."

"I don't know about that," Izuku counters, smiling at Shouto. "You weren't hugged very much as a child either, and you're one of the kindest people I know."

"…ah. Well, that's - your influence, I suppose."

"Mine?"

"Yours and the rest of the class," Shouto explains. "I think I was well on my way to being just as angry and hot-headed as my father is, back when I started school. You helped me course correct."

Izuku shakes his head at that, flushing.

"You say that, but… all the difficulties you faced, everything you overcame to become the hero you wanted to be? That was you, Shouto. Not me. I just -" He trails off, staring down at his hands. "Pushed you in the right direction, maybe. I nudged."

Shouto smiles. "It was a much-needed nudge, then."

"Maybe," Izuku allows, smiling right back. "But hey, I didn't bring up Endeavor just because your father desperately needs therapy, and maybe also to learn how to read the room."

"No?"

"I promise, there's a point I'm getting to!" Izuku takes a deep breath then, his hand tightening a little around Shouto's ankle. It's not uncomfortable - but it is telling, and Shouto perks up, listening hard. "I was, um, thinking the other day, about what we talked about in the park - about relationships and marriage, how neither of us have ever really gotten it right. I've been thinking it a lot, actually."

Shouto nods, suddenly very, very attentive. "Alright."

"And I kept coming back to how your dad keeps pushing you to settle down, which - it's really invasive. It's not particularly respectful of your boundaries, and you shouldn't ever have to get married or be with someone that you don't want to be with. One hundred percent, I don't think any of us should be pushed into something like that, and quirk marriages are obviously awful."

"Obviously," Shouto murmurs.

"But it also didn't seem like you… were super opposed to the idea? I mean, when I tried to remember it, when I thought about our conversation, it seemed more like you just didn't know how to find someone you'd want to have that kind of relationship with - not like you didn't want to get married at all. And if you did go ahead and get married, you'd shut up him up and get him off your back, probably forever, so…"

Izuku pauses, taking a deep breath.

"I was just thinking - what if there was a way for you to get married and have it be to someone you liked, someone you trusted and maybe might even be attracted to?"

Shouto stills as Izuku twists even further towards him. He freezes, caught in place by both the weight of Izuku's hand on his ankle and the directness of his gaze.

"What if that were a possibility?" he presses. "What if you could… have that?"

"It isn't," Shouto replies, his voice faint to his own ears. "It's a moot point, because I don't think I could find someone like that. I don't - can't have that."

Izuku takes a deep breath and smiles at him, cheeks flushed, eyes fever-bright.

Shouto isn't sure whether the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach is dread or elation; he doesn't know whether he wants to throw up or cry, because he still doesn't know whether or not these big, stupid things he keeps feeling around Izuku of late are actually big, stupid feelings, and even if they are -

Izuku can't be saying what Shouto thinks he's trying to say.

He cannot possibly be trying to make the exact same point that Shouto's spent weeks trying to figure out how to broach - because that would just be too damn easy, a little too much like happily ever after, and Shouto Todoroki's life has only ever been anything but.

And yet…

Izuku is looking at him with stars in his eyes. He's looking at Shouto like he's the only thing in the room, like he's the only thing that matters, and when he speaks, his voice is almost reverent.

"I think you can," he says.

"Izuku," Shouto pleads, begs - for what, he isn't sure. "Please."

"I think you might already have it, actually, because I haven't been able to think about anything other than you in weeks, and so it would be the absolute honor of my life if you would -"

"Izuku."

"Marry me, Shouto," he breathes. "Let me be your husband."

Once Shouto's brain comes online again, he panics.

He yanks his way out of Izuku's grasp, finally giving into the urge to go and hide under the massive pile of blankets and throw pillows on his futon, and hopes against hope that Izuku will take the hint and leave him be for a moment.

Unfortunately for Shouto, Izuku is just as stubborn as he is.

He's just as pig-headed, and twice as strong, and when he can't get past the accidentally iced over lock on Shouto's bedroom door, he just - tears the damn thing from the hinges, picks it up, and settles it neatly against the opposite wall before gently worming his way into Shouto's blanket fort and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Now, call me crazy," he starts, lips pressed against Shouto's hair.

Shouto snorts. "You're crazy."

"But that wasn't the kind of reaction to a proposal that most people hope for."

"That's because it wasn't a proposal," Shouto huffs, moving Izuku's hand from his waist to his back, where it can rub slow, gentle circles against his spine. "That was a - joke."

"It wasn't, actually."

"Izuku."

"I was being serious! I really think we can help each other here! Besides, we made a pact -"

"Stop it."

Now it's Izuku's turn to sigh, leaning back a bit so he can get a good look at Shouto's face. He pushes at Shouto's bangs, brushing the feathery red and white strands out of his eyes, and his thumb lingers on the scar on Shouto's left cheek, gentle.

Shouto has to actively fight not to press up into the touch.

"Do you really think I'd joke about something like that?" he asks.

"…maybe," Shouto says. "If you were trying to make me feel better, if you - thought it would help."

"And does it? Help?"

Shouto pulls away, propping his head up on his elbow as he peers up at Izuku. Though the little bit of distance he's put between them is good for his head, it makes something in his chest twist, unpleasant; even now, he wants nothing more than to bury his head in his best friend's neck, to hold him close until this evening bleeds away into night, the way he had when they were younger and all his problems had seemed so very loud.

But Shouto's not young anymore.

He's not a child, and running away from his problems doesn't mean that they cease to exist - which is why he takes a deep breath, steels himself and says, in no uncertain terms, "You can't just marry me, Izuku. That's - not an option."

Izuku quirks a brow. "Why not?"

"Because we're not - we aren't dating."

"So?"

Shouto snorts. "I'm not an expert here, but I think dating generally precedes most marriages."

"That doesn't mean I don't love you," Izuku points out, stubborn. "It doesn't mean you aren't one of the most important people in my life. I'd do anything to make you happy, Shouto; you know I would -"

Shouto makes a frustrated noise.

"Yes," he agrees. "You would. That's… the whole problem."

Izuku blinks at him, uncomprehending, and he groans.

"I don't want someone to marry me out of obligation," he explains. "I don't want to marry someone who only wants to be with me for the prestige, or because of something they think I could give them, and I'm not - I'm not saying that that's something you would do, but - you don't want me, either."

"Says who?"

Shouto's mouth snaps shut so fast his teeth click.

"Says who, Shouto?" Izuku asks again, more firmly this time. "Because like I said, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I've been trying to figure out what I want, what the rest of my life looks like. Your dad's not wrong about us not getting any younger; we've only got so many years as heroes left, and I want to make sure I'm spending them wisely, with the right people."

"And what does that have to do with me? You said - "

"It has everything to do with you, because the time I spend at home is just as important as the hours I spend out in the field. It's just as precious, and I don't - I'm tired of not having anyone to share it with. I don't want to keep coming home to an empty apartment, especially when I sit back and think about what really matters, and you… you deserve so much, Shouto," Izuku breathes, a little wetly. "You deserve everything, and I care about you so, so much. I want to give you everything I can, because I - I really, really like you Shou. I think maybe I always have, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder…"

He trails off, shaking his head.

"The more I wonder if maybe you like me, too."

When Shouto doesn't say anything, Izuku swallows and wipes at his eyes; it's loud in the quiet of his bedroom, all Shouto can hear.

"I mean… am I wrong? Am I - totally off-base here?"

Shouto shakes his head, glances down. It's about as brave as he can manage.

He can't even bear to look at Izuku, because if he does, he thinks he might do something stupid -

But Izuku's hand catches his chin.

He gently forces Shouto's gaze back up, and then smiles at him like he's the only thing in the world.

"You're wonderful, Shou," he murmurs. "You're kind, and strong, and beautiful, and you wanna know else what I think? You want to know what else I've been thinking?"

Hesitantly, Shouto nods.

"I think maybe it was always meant to be us. I think maybe we were always meant to be together, and that maybe that's why nothing else has ever really felt right for me - and I'm not trying to put that on you!" he says hastily, shaking his head. "I'm not - saying it's your fault no relationship's ever worked out for me, because it's not! That's on me, for not picking the right people. But maybe…"

He swallows then, thumbing absently at Shouto's cheek.

"Maybe I already knew."

The way he's looking at Shouto is so, so soft and yet Shouto feels like he's about to break, like he might come apart at the seams if Izuku moves even a hair closer.

He thinks he kind of wants to.

"Maybe our hearts had it all figured out back in third year, and we just - needed a bit longer for our heads to catch up, you know?"

Shouto's inhale is sharp, ragged.

It frays a little at the edges, and though it's usually Izuku who's the crier between the two of them, Shouto finds his eyes stinging at the rawness of the admission.

"Maybe," he chokes out. "Maybe, I - I don't know."

Izuku cards a gentle hand through his hair, nuzzling even closer.

"Don't you want to try?" he presses.

Yes, Shouto thinks. He's pretty sure he wants that desperately.

Because Izuku's always made him feel better than he really is, like he is something precious; he makes Shouto feel special in a way that's so very different from what his father had always intended for him, like he matters as more than just a quirk vector, and even though he's still not sure exactly how best to describe this particular feeling, the way his chest feels like it's about to split open every time he looks at Izuku of late, that's -

Not something he can really say for anything else.

It's not replicable.

It's not a fluke, and hasn't he always said that Izuku's the person he feels most comfortable with? Hasn't Izuku always been his most trusted, beloved friend?

He's beginning to think that maybe these are feelings after all, that maybe he really does love Izuku, in that way, and though he's frightened by the thought of what could go wrong, of all the various ways he could fuck this up without even trying, he can't help but think of all the ways this could go so very, very right as well, and maybe… maybe -

"How do we -" He pauses, wets his lips. "How do we - do that? We don't -"

Izuku's grip on him goes tight, his breath hitching.

"What if we have terrible chemistry?" Shouto finishes. "You know I'm attracted to you -

"I do?!"

"- but what if you don't want me that way? Are you - do you think you could ever find me -"

Izuku puts a finger to his lips, breathless. His eyes are very, very wide, and a little pained.

"Shouto," he breathes, incredulous. "Do you, um. Do you think I'm not attracted to you?"

"I don't know," Shouto says slowly. "Are you attracted to me?"

"Yes," Izuku says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it is, if the breathless laugh that pushes past his lips is any indication. "Yes, Shou, I am - incredibly attracted to you, like - I've had dreams?" He swallows and goes a little red. "Really embarrassing ones, probably. Ones I will never, ever repeat."

"Oh," Shouto breathes. Then, because he has to know, he asks, "Wait. Did you have a crush on me?"

Izuku runs a hand through his hair, huffing out a breathless laugh.

"I mean, I think I had a crush on everyone in the class at one point," he admits. "Everyone except Mineta, that is - because I had a lot of feelings, and hormones are hard, and you all were - great. But it didn't mean anything. Nothing ever went anywhere, except for that one time Uraraka and I tried to date second year, and even then, I think - I think we both realized pretty quickly that we were better off as friends.

"So no," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't have feelings for you, in that sense, but… Shouto. Baby."

"Izuku, I have no idea what I'm doing," Shouto admits, fighting not to squirm at the way the pet name sounds in Izuku's mouth. He wouldn't have thought he'd be into that kind of thing; he's not certain he'd like it if anyone else thought to call him baby, but when Izuku says it…

God.

He has to suppress a very embarrassing sort of noise and really focus on the matter at hand, pulling back a little so he can shoot Izuku a mildly reproachful look.

"And I'm not always good at telling how people feel about me, because people lie. They don't always tell the truth, and I can't - I think it's a valid concern," he says. "Please don't write it off."

"Shit. Shit, of course it is," Izuku says quickly, wincing. "Of course, I shouldn't - I'm sorry. You're right."

"I can handle not having a partner. I can't handle not having you as a friend."

The noise Izuku makes then is soft, weak.

"You would never lose me as a friend, Shou," he says. "You couldn't - but I get where you're coming from. I think I understand, and I don't want to make light of it, so… what if we - I mean, what if we did, like - " He pauses, thinking hard for a few moments. "Well, what about a trial run?"

Shouto blinks, his mouth going slack with surprise. Because that's -

"What if we went on a couple of dates, just to test it out? Nothing serious, obviously! We can keep it casual, no pressure, the same way we would if we were seeing other people."

- surprisingly reasonable?

"And then after that, we could like - re-assess. See how we're both feeling."

It's considerate of Izuku without being patronizing, giving them both the opportunity to test the waters without committing to something they'll later regret. Shouto thinks it might work.

"A… trial run," Shouto repeats softly.

Izuku nods, his smile tentative. "Yeah, Shou. We could test it out."

After a little more thought, Shouto agrees.

He accepts the offer, both because it makes sense and it's because he really, really wants to, and together, he and Izuku spend the rest of the hour hammering out the details.

Izuku will plan the first date, they decide; it's something he's done before, after all, and that takes some of the pressure off Shouto, who hasn't. Then, assuming that everything goes well and they don't run out of things to talk about before they even get their drinks, Shouto will plan the second.

There aren't really any rules.

It just doesn't seem necessary, and apart from a throwaway comment Shouto makes about not spending too much money on what's ostensibly just a couple of very simple dates, they decide to go with what feels right. They trust their instincts, because that's gotten them this far - and when it's all said and done, Shouto breathes a quiet sigh of relief, dropping his face into Izuku's shoulder and letting his eyes drift shut.

"Im tired," he complains, nuzzling into the fabric of Izuku's shirt. "Why are feelings so hard?"

Above him, Izuku chuckles.

"Well, I'm definitely not a therapist - so take this with a grain of salt," he says, curling a little protectively around Shouto's limp frame. "But I think it's because when you talk about them, you're reliving them? Like, when it's just you experiencing them, it's all internal, and you know exactly how you feel. You don't really have to justify or explain anything. The second you start to talk about it, though, you're making it external, trying to get other people to understand - so you have to know how you feel about something, and then also how to make someone else understand how you feel about it, so like - it's twice as much work, I think."

Shouto hums, thoughtful.

"I guess that makes sense," he murmurs.

"Yeah?"

"I still wish you could just - look at me and know what I'm feeling, though."

Izuku laughs then; the sound's not unkind, and Shouto twists his face towards him, curious.

"You know, most of the time, I think I can," he admits. "I'm not sure if it's because we've been friends for so long now, or if I'm just really, really good at reading body language or something, but… I dunno. I just feel like I can look at you and know what you're thinking. That's, um, kinda why I suggested this, if I'm being totally upfront?"

He pauses, licks his lips.

"Like, every time you look at me lately, you just - you just seem like you want this, like you - want me."

An hour earlier, Shouto would have frozen.

He would have locked up, eyes wide, uncertain whether he should deny, deny, deny or just give in and confirm Izuku's suspicions. He wouldn't have known what to do, and then languished in indecision.

Now, though…

He takes a deep breath, glancing up at Izuku through his lashes.

"I think… I might," he says quietly. Then, with a sigh, he adds, "But I don't have a whole lot to go off. I've never really had - feelings like this for anyone else. I don't know what's normal -"

"Hey. Hey, shhh, it's alright, don't feel bad," Izuku says quietly, picking up on his building distress and immediately moving to quash it. "We'll figure it out, yeah?"

He pulls Shouto in a little closer, rubs a hand along his shoulderblades.

"We'll, figure this out, together - just like we have everything else. I promise."

Shouto exhales out a relieved sigh, taking comfort in Izuku's surety, his certainty that things will work out. He wishes he had that kind of confidence about his feelings.

But that's one of the best things about his relationship with Izuku, he thinks.

Where Shouto is hesitant, when he withdraws into himself and thinks and thinks himself into a corner, Izuku is there to pull him out - and when Izuku gets caught up in the moment, when he tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and gets frustrated that it's too much for any one person to bear, Shouto's the one who sits him down, figures out a plan of attack, and takes over. It's always been give and take with them, reciprocal and supportive in equal parts.

It's why their friendship has lasted so long, even as others have faded away.

It's probably also why they've ended up working together at numerous points throughout their careers, first as sidekicks at Best Jeanist's agency right after graduation, and then, later on, as full-fledged heroes with the agency Kirishima and Bakugou had co-founded.

There's no one he trusts more.

There's no one he loves more, and that's -

"Okay," he says, pressing his nose to Izuku's collarbone with a deep steadying breath. "Alright. We'll do it together."

Their first date is relatively traditional - dinner and a movie.

Izuku picks out a restaurant that's casual but cute, and tells Shouto not to worry about dressing up; he tells him not to worry about much of anything actually, because the evening he's put together is entirely lowkey, nothing they haven't done before as just friends, and though Shouto still decides to take a little extra care with his appearance as he's getting ready, he feels pretty good when he leaves his apartment to catch the train.

He's not nervous, he decides. It's not weird.

But then he spots Izuku outside the restaurant with a bouquet of flowers in his hands; he sees him standing there in a button-down shirt stretched so tight across his chest the buttons seem in real danger of popping right off the stitching, his messy curls combed over to one side to show off the rasp of his undercut, and when he looks up and spots Shouto -

Shouto suddenly regrets wearing this particular sweater.

He regrets wearing something so warm, because his face is so hot -

He has to remind himself to breathe as Izuku bounds over to him, pressing the flowers into his hands and a kiss to his cheek; he has to remind himself not to immediately catch on fire, or ice over the patch of sidewalk they're standing on, and even then, Shouto just sort of - melts.

Because no one's ever bought him flowers before, he thinks.

No one's ever bothered, except for the handful of times he's had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days after an injury. Besides, that doesn't count; those sorts of floral arrangements are entirely different, get well soon rather than I'm so happy to see you, just because, and so Shouto brings the collection of white and red blooms to his face and inhales, sharp.

"Do you like them?" Izuku asks, a little shy.

Not trusting himself to speak, Shouto nods.

"Ah, I wasn't sure if you would! I didn't know where you stood on that - because a lot of people don't, you know. They think flowers are emasculating, or - maybe they're allergic to pollen or something, I don't know, so I knew I was taking a gamble here -"

"Izuku," Shouto finally interjects.

"Yeah?"

"I like them." A moment later, after trying (and failing) to interpret the way Izuku's staring at him, he clears his throat and adds, "Thank you."

Izuku smiles at that; he relaxes, and after a quick glance down at his watch, puts a hand on the small of Shouto's lower back and ushers him into the restaurant.

The table they're seated at is small, cozy; there's more flowers in the center, fragrant blooms spilling across the wooden surface, and the lighting's been turned down low now that it's dark outside. Shouto slots himself into one corner, setting the bouquet down gently on the booth next to him so that it won't get squished by any plates. Expecting Izuku to sit across from him, he looks up to ask if he's ever been here before, if there's any dish he'd recommend getting -

But then Izuku crowds into the seat directly beside his, sliding a menu across the table so that they can both read it, and Shouto's question dies on his lips.

"This okay?" Izuku asks.

Shouto nods, a little dumb.

"I mean, I can sit on the other side if you want me to," he clarifies, scratching at the back of his neck. "But this always felt more intimate to me, like it's just you and me, and this way, I can -" He reaches down, gently pulling Shouto's left hand from where it had been curled up against his thigh; he slowly inches Shouto's clenched fingers loose, slotting his own in between, and then gives his palm a soft, encouraging little squeeze that has Shouto's heart going wild inside his chest. "You know. Do this."

Oh, Shouto thinks. That feels - surprisingly nice. Tentatively, he squeezes back, and based on the way Izuku beams at him, he's made the right choice.

Still, another blush blooms hot and dark across his cheeks.

It has him feeling like he needs to hide, or at the very least go out and buy a decent tube of concealer, and so he glances down at his lap, seen.

But Izuku knows him too well for that.

He knows exactly what Shouto's trying (and failing) to do, and so he ducks his head down a little, peering up into his face and says, "Hey. Don't feel bad. I'm nervous too, you know."

"You are?"

"Are you kidding?" Izuku giggles. "I had to talk myself up for about half an hour in the mirror before I could even leave my apartment this afternoon."

"You don't… seem nervous."

"That's because I'm always nervous, Shou. Trust me, I am definitely feeling it too."

"Because this is a date?"

"I mean, yeah, a little. First dates are always kinda hard that way. But honestly?" He shakes his head, a tendril of green falling into his eyes. "I think it's mostly because it's you."

Shouto swallows, thick, and reaches up to brush it back into place.

Because the simple statement drives home the reality of the situation in a way nothing else has - this is a date, he realizes. He is on a date, his very first one, and it's with Izuku Midoriya, the most important person in his life -

He really, really doesn't want to fuck it up.

"Izuku," he murmurs, a little overcome.

"Yeah?"

"This is a date."

Izuku smiles. "Yeah, Shou. It is," he murmurs, his gaze drifting down Shouto's face and lingering on his mouth, the line of his jaw. "You, um, look really nice tonight. Did I tell you that? Earlier?"

"I… don't think so."

"Hmm. I must have been distracted."

Shouto doesn't really know what to say to that - and so he doesn't say much of anything, looking back down at the menu with a quiet, shaky breath. But Izuku seems to sense that he needs a minute, launching into a very animated little speech about the food here. It sets Shouto's head a little more at ease, has him relaxing back into the leather booth - and by the time their server arrives and they rattle off their orders, he's feeling much more like himself.

It's an ease that lingers throughout the rest of the evening.

The conversation flows easily, never stilted or awkward, and the food is good. He and Izuku end up splitting their dishes in half, each of them taking part of the entrees they'd ordered, and the server insists on giving them dessert for free when she realizes who they are.

Izuku stammers at that, clearly uncertain about whether or not to accept - but Shouto had seen cheesecake on the menu, and he's gotten much, much better about not denying himself the simple pleasure in life that is dessert now that he's older, so.

They get the cheesecake, and the strawberry sauce that comes with it.

Though they walk to the movie theater with their hands still intertwined, and Izuku presses up against him at every other step, it doesn't feel strange. It isn't weird when he ducks in against Shouto's shoulder once they've found their seats, and Shouto isn't embarrassed when he finds himself absently playing with Izuku's hair through the more boring bits of the plot. Izuku fits so perfectly into his side, a little like he was made to be there - and when the movie finally ends, and the credits start to roll across the screen, Shouto's more than a little disappointed he has to let him go.

He's even more put out when the get to the train station and have to go their separate ways.

Because he doesn't want the date to end, he realizes.

He doesn't want this to be the end of the night, the part where he goes home by himself, quietly gets ready to go to sleep, and then falls into his futon, alone, as he waits for sleep to claim him; that's what he does every night, and while he normally likes the silent stillness of his apartment, and is perfectly happy on his own, right now that's not what he wants.

That isn't what he feels like he needs, and so he grabs at Izuku's sleeve, just as he makes to step away.

"Shouto?" Izuku asks, peering up at him with a frown.

Shouto's mouth works furiously for a moment as he tries to think of what to say; he'd kind of acted without thinking there, the way he'd snatched Izuku's arm a little hasty.

"Coffee," he finally settles on. "Do you want - coffee, with me?"

Izuku blinks.

"Shouto," he says slowly. "You don't like coffee."

Well, fuck, he thinks. He doesn't.

"It's also almost eleven."

Fuck, what a stupid thing to say, he should have - he should have come up with something more realistic, or just told the truth and asked Izuku back to his place. He can't help but grimace as he lets go of Izuku, his face falling as says, "Yes, but… isn't that what people say when they don't want a date to end?"

Izuku's eyes go wide. "Wait, you - oh."

"Sorry," Shouto blurts out, glancing away. "I know it's late. You have patrol in the morning, we shouldn't -"

"No, I don't."

Shouto's voice trails off.

"I took the morning off, because I have a couple errands I need to run, so if you - if you want me to come back to your place, I can." Izuku smiles then, again a little shy. "I'd have, um, asked you back to mine actually, but I didn't want to overdo it and make you think I was, like - you know."

Shouto blinks.

"Um, just trying to get into your pants."

Oh.

Oh.

Shouto's face goes red hot, and he clears his throat. "I wouldn't - think that."

"I know that," Izuku says quickly. "I know you wouldn't think that, because you know me, and - we're taking things slow! We're not rushing into anything, because we want to be careful with this, and - wow. I am really making this awkward, huh?"

He laughs, running a hand through his hair, and Shouto relaxes.

"Maybe," he agrees, offering up a smile. Then, once it's clear Izuku isn't going to reject his advances, he says, "I just - didn't want to have to say good-bye. I wanted to keep this going."

Izuku steps forward to take his hand again, his palm a little sweaty.

"Me too, Shou," he says. "I… I'm having a really good time?"

He says it like it's a question, like he's waiting for Shouto to pass some kind of judgment on the date. He's got his lower lip pulled between his teeth, just a flash of white against his soft, pink mouth, and Shouto's possessed with the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him. He wants to press his mouth to Izuku's and breathe him in, to see if his mouth tastes as soft and sweet as it looks -

The desire's so sudden it's almost dizzying, and Shouto inhales, sharp.

"I am, too," he admits, looking away. "I'm really happy."

"Yeah? You are?"

Shouto nods. "Yeah."

Izuku beams at him, wrapping his arm a little more firmly around Shouto's.

"Okay, then," he says. "Okay, let's - let's go back to your place. Let's not have coffee, or -"

Shouto sighs. "Izuku."

"Oh! We can Netflix and not chill!"

Shouto huffs and pretends to tear his arm away, shooting Izuku a reproachful sort of look - but Izuku just laughs and ducks in close against the cool night breeze, not even the slightest bit fazed, and when Shouto's train pulls up a few minutes later, he doesn't hesitate to step on after him.

They don't do anything that night.

Or, well -

They do, but it's mostly restricted to more hand holding on the couch as they talk, and then again in bed once Shouto makes it clear that he has absolutely no qualms about Izuku staying the night. Though Izuku mostly just takes the couch whenever he stays over, he's got several futons in the closet; he's quick enough to pull one out, making it up right next to his on the floor, and when they wake up the next morning, he's entirely unsurprised to find that they've migrated at some point during the night.

Izuku's curled around his back, his face pressed into the warmth of Shouto's neck; he's got one arm wrapped around Shouto's waist and a leg slipped between his thighs, which -

It's a lot, Shouto thinks.

It's a lot for him to process so early in the morning, his foggy mind providing him with absolutely no thoughts on the situation other than good, good, good and then, belatedly - home. He can't think of a single way to extricate himself from Izuku's hold, or even a reason why he'd want to, and so he just exhales out a low, shaky breath and tries to go back to sleep, hoping he doesn't set his pillow on fire.

When he wakes again, it's because Izuku's finally stirring behind him.

He draws a slow hand up Shouto's side as his breath hitches, fingers settling along the divots of his rib cage. He presses in, gently, digging into warm skin and thick muscle - and then he retreats, his palm sliding down against to curl over Shouto's hip, a little possessive.

"Shou?" he asks, voice deliciously raspy with sleep.

It does - things to Shouto, and he swallows, heart kicking furiously in his chest as he rolls over onto his back, blinking up at Izuku.

Izuku smiles down at him, his head propped up on an elbow.

"There you are," he says, leaning in to press his forehead to Shouto's, his nose against his temple. "Good morning, sleepyhead. Sleep well?"

Shouto nods. "Yeah," he replies. "I slept - really well."

It's only as he says it that he's realizes it's true.

Where he normally tosses and turns for at least an hour every night, desperate to find some way to get comfortable, he thinks he'd fallen asleep last night almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow. He hadn't had any nightmares either, his rest dreamless and uninterrupted.

Was that… because Izuku was here?

It's not as surprising as it might have been, all things considered. They'd had a lot of sleepovers in those first years after the war, with both each other and the rest of the class; it was one of the only ways they'd known how to fight off the bad dreams, and easy enough to get approved, once a couple students confessed to Aizawa and the other teachers that they couldn't get any rest. They'd just had to agree to have the group sleepovers in the common rooms and abide by the usual curfew rules.

It was a small enough price to pay for peace of mind, and so Shouto had found himself curled up between Izuku and Iida more times than he could count their second and third years.

This is maybe like that, he thinks. Just a little.

But it's also very, very different, because this time it's just him and Izuku; it's just the two of them alone in his bedroom, with nothing to separate them but the thin cotton of his pajamas. Izuku isn't even wearing a shirt, for god's sake, and that's -

"Me too," Izuku sighs. "I kinda don't even want to get up, but… I think it's already close to ten."

"Is it?" Shouto frowns.

"Yeah, something like that. I woke up a little earlier but, um… I didn't really want to move? And you looked really cute and comfy, like - you were even drooling a bit, so I didn't wanna wake you -"

Shouto groans, wrenching himself away even as Izuku giggles.

"Stop it," he mutters, cheeks pink. "I do not drool."

"Um, you definitely do. And if you don't believe me, your pillow's right there -"

Shouto thwacks him in the face with said pillow, the way Izuku shrieks with laughter and hits him right back with the edge of a blanket warming him from the inside out. It makes him feel light as air as they tussle around in the sheets, neither one of them really having much of an advantage, and when Izuku finally gives up on finesse and just tackles him back down to the futon, settling his weight across Shouto's thighs to trap him, he can't help but smile, curling up into the warmth as his grip on the pillow loosens.

"You've, ah, got something on your face there, Shouto," he teases, tapping a finger against Shouto's jaw. "Something that looks a lot like spit, oh no -"

Unbidden, Shouto's tongue darts out to wet his lips.

He tries in vain for the dried spit that is (apparently) stuck to his chin, and while that doesn't work, because his tongue is neither prehensile nor particularly adept and he can't really see said mess, it does draw Izuku's attention to his mouth.

It makes his breath hitch, green eyes honing in on his lips with uncanny focus, and he leans in, slow.

"Shou," he murmurs, relinquishing his grip on Shouto's wrist to palm his cheek. "Can I…?"

Shouto knows what he's asking.

It'd be nearly impossible not to, what with the way that he's staring, and Shouto's entire body flares hot and cold all at once, a wave of want flooding him. He nods, gives just the barest tilt of his chin -

And then Izuku's kissing him, soft and slow and sweet.

Shouto inhales, sharp; he freezes, forgets to press back for a moment as every thought in his head suddenly up and dies, replaced with a low, steady stream of Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - and then he sighs, all the breath expelled from his lungs in one low, wanton noise as he remembers to kiss back.

Izuku's kind with him, gentle.

He's not demanding, easing their mouths together with a softness that's almost too much as Shouto clumsily kisses him back, and though Shouto clutches at his arms and shudders beneath him, he doesn't try to deepen it. He doesn't push, pulling back after just a few moments to gauge how Shouto's feeling, and runs a callused thumb down his cheek, questioning.

Shouto swallows, hard.

"Again," he murmurs, bringing his hands up to pull at Izuku's face. "Do that again, Izuku, please -"

Izuku is all too happy to oblige.

He presses their mouths together with a happy little hum, adjusting his hands to grip first at Shouto's shoulders, then wrapping carefully around his waist; but the longer they kiss, the more his palms wander, dragging up and down Shouto's sides with slow, reckless intent. Each touch set Shouto's skin afire, lightning skittering down his spine, and while nothing about it is overtly sexual, something about the way Izuku touches him appreciative rather than merely provocative, he feels - raw.

Splayed open, seen.

It's as terrifying as it is exhilarating, and Shouto quickly finds himself getting lost in it.

He lets go, relaxing back into the abandoned sheets of his futon, and when Izuku gets a little bolder and nips at his lower lip, Shouto can't help the way his mouth goes slack.

He's starting to steam a little on his left side.

The fingers on his right hand are dripping with ice crystals, catching in Izuku's hair when he grabs for a fistful of green curls and pulls -

"Shou," Izuku gasps, falling forward a bit. "That -"

"Sorry," Shouto breathes, blinking his eyes wide open. "I didn't mean to -"

Izuku cuts him off with a shake of his head, fingers tapping at his jaw.

"No," he murmurs, pressing his nose into Shouto's cheek. "No, I liked it, I - do it again?"

Tentatively, Shouto runs his fingers through Izuku's hair. He tugs, gently, and watches in real time as Izuku's gaze goes half-lidded and hazy, as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and groans.

"Oh," Shouto murmurs, a little overcome. "You do like it."

Izuku leans down to kiss him again, harder.

The noise that spills from Shouto's lips as Izuku licks into his mouth is entirely unbidden, involuntary; it's like it's been punched out of him, the rasp of Izuku's tongue against his own so, so good.

He's never felt anything like it.

It's too much and not enough all at once, and though he tries to keep up, tries to match Izuku kiss for kiss, to give as good as he gets, it's - a lot.

His head is starting to feel a little fuzzy, core clenched tight with want.

He can't think.

He can barely breathe - and so he wrenches himself away with a gasp after only a few more minutes, throwing an arm over his eyes as he tries desperately to regain some measure of control over his body, and the fire raging in his veins.

Above him, Izuku pauses.

"Shou?" he asks, soft.

He peeks up at Izuku, feeling inexplicably shy.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he replies, a little shaky. "I'm fine, I… that was good."

Izuku risks a grin then, his eyes crinkling at the corners a bit as he pushes up onto his hands. He is so, so beautiful, the sunlight pouring in the window at just the right angle to gild the curve of his jaw, his thick, muscular shoulders, and Shouto wonders how he ever could have mistaken this aching feeling in his chest for anything other than love.

"Good?" he teases, giggling. "Shou, that was - incredible. Are you kidding me?"

Shouto snorts, letting his arm go slack so Izuku can pull it away.

"It was - really good," he amends.

"So much for not having any chemistry," Izuku laughs. "Definitely don't think that's gonna be a problem when we, um - get around to it. If we get there, if that's something you -"

"Izuku."

"Right! Right, I'm going to shut up now and kiss you again."

Shouto accepts the kiss quite graciously, letting it linger rather than build; when he slowly blinks his eyes back open again, Izuku is staring down at him like he's something wondrous, like he's precious.

It warms Shouto up from the inside out, and he smiles, content.

"Hey," Izuku grins, kissing first the tip of his nose and then his forehead. "Can I make you breakfast?"

Shouto pretends to consider it for a moment, screwing his face up in thought.

"That depends," he says slowly. "Are you going to burn it?"

"Oh, come on," Izuku groans. "That was - that happened one time!"

"Omelettes are supposed to be yellow, Izuku. Not black."

"It wasn't black! It was just -" He cuts himself off with a click of his tongue, shaking his head. "- very dark brown, thank you very much. And Iida still ate it!"

"Only because he's too polite to refuse."

Izuku puts a hand to his heart, sliding sideways off Shouto's chest and into the puddle of blankets on the floor. He shoots Shouto a wounded look, lower lip pushed out as far as it will go -

But Shouto holds fast, rolling over onto his side and quirking a brow.

Finally, Izuku sighs.

"Okay," he relents. "Okay, no eggs. Can I make you something else for breakfast, then? Miso? Toast?"

Shouto hums. "You could… if I had anything in the fridge."

"Let me guess," Izuku snorts. "You have exactly two leeks, a carton of orange juice, and some noodles of indeterminable age to your name."

"It's apple juice, but sure. Close enough."

"How about I buy you breakfast, then - I'll order something in, we can eat, and then I can get ready to go the store and pick up my order from the dry cleaners."

That sounds nice, Shouto thinks. Cozy.

It's kinda making his quirk go a little haywire, the pleasant, fuzzy feeling in his stomach threatening to bubble over. He ducks his head as he nods to hide the way his cheeks turn pink, in favor of watching Izuku scrounge around for his shirt, so hastily discarded the night before.

Maybe he'll get to do this again, he muses. Perhaps it'll happen again soon.

If he's really lucky, and this does work out, he might get to watch Izuku roll out of bed and tug on a shirt every day for the rest of his life - or better yet, maybe he won't bother with clothes at all.

That could - also be a thing that happens.

What a thought.

It has his temperature spiking, veering wildly out of control at the thought of Izuku (naked) in his bedroom, and unfortunately, this time Shouto really does set the pillow on fire.

It sparks up in an instant, smoke filling the room as he bats at it with his hand, ice at the ready to dampen the flames. Though the damage has been done, the pillow reduced to a sad little pile of cinders and charred fabric, it takes him only a moment to put out the fire; he looks up once he's got it extinguished, lips parting as he searches for Izuku, to make sure nothing else had burst into flames when he'd lost control -

But of course it hadn't.

It was just the one thing, just the pillow he'd been cradling in his arms in lieu of Izuku, who is… staring at him, eyebrows raised, lips parted. He swallows as Shouto carefully tucks the scraps of fabric behind him, cheeks puffing out with amusement - but then he turns and walks from the room, presumably to order breakfast, and Shouto's left to mourn the loss of his dignity in peace and quiet.

Izuku, bless him, is gracious enough to never bring it up again.

Shouto plans their second date.

He plans it meticulously, very anxious that he gets every single part of this outing right -

And it's not like he thinks Izuku would care.

Of course not, because Izuku would be happy with frozen pizza and a movie marathon in their pajamas. He would be, quite literally, thrilled at anything that Shouto came up with for them to do, because he's both very excitable and very easy to entertain. The bar for making Izuku happy is, as Denki has taught him to say, the floor.

But their first date had been - wonderful.

It had been amazing, everything that Shouto could have wanted; it's something he will never, ever forget, even if this doesn't end up working out, and Shouto wants to return the favor.

He wants to show Izuku that he's serious about this, that he can be a good partner, too.

So he researches.

He studies, painstakingly crawling his way through dating forums and sappy blog posts online for appropriate second-date activities, and exhausts all his resources trying to come up with the perfect set of experiences for them to share. He's very pleased with himself when he finally manages to pull together an itinerary for the afternoon, video calling Izuku with the plans as soon as he's got them finalized.

Naturally, Izuku teases him for it.

"You're excited about this," he notes, laughing.

Shouto frowns into the little screen at the top of his phone. "Should I not be?"

"No, no!" Izuku says, waving his hands. "Of course not, I just -"

"I want to make you happy."

His cheeks flushing bright red, Izuku makes a soft, incredulous noise.

"Shou," he whines, slapping a hand over his eyes. "You can't - oh my god, I can't think when you say things like that."

"Why not?"

Izuku huffs, glaring out from between the cage of his fingers.

"Because it's too cute," he explains. "It makes me want to kiss you, and hug you really tight, and since I'm stuck here doing dishes, it's just - well, it's just rude!"

"You could come over," Shouto offers. "I'm not doing anything else today."

"But then who will wash the plates?"

In the end, Izuku doesn't finish doing the dishes.

Instead, he flies over to Shouto's apartment as quickly as he possibly can and spends the rest of the afternoon kissing him senseless on the couch; he takes him so thoroughly apart with his lips and tongue that by the time Shouto finally pulls away, breathing hard into a nearby throw pillow, he's shaking.

He's trembling with it, literally weak in the knees -

Is this what having a crush feels like, he wonders? Are the feelings always this intense, the sensations this exact brand of overwhelming? He wants to be around Izuku constantly these days; it brightens his morning every time he looks up and sees that mop of green hair across the room, and the things Izuku's smile does to his heart are - probably not safe. His watch keeps checking in to see if it's okay.

And it's not that Shouto's naive.

He's seen enough movies and TV shows to know what comes next; he knows - rationally - how it's supposed to feel when you fall in love with someone.

But experiencing it firsthand is incredible.

It's terrible, the best and worst thing that's ever happened to him, all at once.

He is both happier than he has ever been, even though it's only been a few short weeks since they agreed to give this a try, and lonelier than ever before, because eventually Izuku always has to leave. He has to go, back to his apartment, and while Shouto knows he's only a short train ride away, and also that Izuku will call him as soon as he gets home because he knows Shouto likes to fall asleep to the sound of his voice and appreciates the idea of someone thinking of him before he calls it night, he wishes that he could just stay.

Something about that is terrifying.

He's never let anyone into his life like this; he hasn't dared to be this particular sort of vulnerable with another person, ever, even though he and Izuku have been incredibly close friends for years.

Part of him keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He keeps wondering what will happen if Izuku determines that he's made a mistake about all this, that he doesn't actually want to be with Shouto this way. He curious it'll when it'll start to feel awkward.

But that's the thing.

It never really does.

Their second date comes and goes, Shouto's plans to visit a local pottery shop and teach Izuku how to throw the clay a raving success. They go back a week later to pick up their fired pieces, and though Izuku's bowl is maybe a little wonky, with one edge higher than the other, and the lip curling in a little towards the middle, it's still usable. It'll still look perfectly nice sitting on his desk at the agency, which is where he announces he plans to put it, so he can look at it and think of Shouto when they can't work together.

Naturally, this has Shouto so simultaneously pleased and embarrassed that he ducks into the next aisle over in the convenience store and drops down into a squat, head in his hands as he pretends to look at the things displayed on the bottom shelf.

Izuku eventually comes and finds him once he's checked out, and while he teases Shouto and calls him adorable, he also presses a package of frozen strawberry mochi into his palm, so.

It's an acceptable trade-off.

Later that evening, Izuku's finishing up some reports on his laptop while Shouto quietly rifles through a paperback on the couch; he's got his feet propped up on the coffee table, dressed down in a pair of All Might themed pajama pants that are just a bit tight around his thick thighs, and his green curls are pushed back from his forehead by a fluffy headband he's stolen from Shouto's collection.

Shouto's suddenly struck by how incredibly domestic it is.

He keeps getting distracted from the chapter he's spent the better part of the last hour working his way through, looking up from the pages of his book just to stare at the man using the fancy candles on his end table to prop up his notes, a set of forgotten eye patches sitting on either side of his nose. He keeps - staring, watching Izuku clack away on his keyboard, brow furrowed in concentration, lips moving slightly as he mutters under his breath.

And it's not like it's a particularly titillating picture.

Izuku isn't doing anything out of the ordinary; he's not trying to work Shouto up.

But Shouto wants.

He wants to card his fingers through Izuku's hair, and feel the way their bodies press against one another when Izuku crowds in close. He wants to cradle his freckled cheeks in his hands and watch his eyes light up as he kisses him. The desire to run his hands up and down Izuku's broad back until his fingers go numb with it is almost overwhelming, and the thought of touching him -

Is that something he can just ask for, he wonders?

Intimacy? Sex?

The paperback goes slack in his hands as Shouto inhales, sharp.

Because it's a little embarrassing.

He doesn't know if Izuku's on the same page as him here, after all, and while things have been going - really, really well, they haven't really discussed anything since their second date. They haven't talked about what happens next. He doesn't know if Izuku wants to keep this going, if he's just as desperate for Shouto as Shouto feels for him, and he really doesn't know how he feels about the prospect of jumping into bed together.

Is that why he hasn't initiated anything? Is that why they haven't -

But no.

Shouto pushes that thought aside as soon as it comes to him, because it's ridiculous. It's impossible, because Izuku has gotten even more clingy than he used to be since they started dating, and the way he looks at Shouto now, when he thinks no one else is paying attention…

There's no doubt in Shouto's mind that Izuku wants him back.

He's probably just taking it easy, because he knows Shouto's never really been in a relationship where that was something he could ask for, where that sort of thing was on the table.

He doesn't want to - spook him, maybe. Or make him uncomfortable.

And Shouto appreciates that, he really does. It's considerate, in that way that Izuku so often is, kind without being infantilizing.

But Shouto wants.

He wants Izuku like nothing he's ever wanted before, wishes it were so easy that he could just open his mouth and ask for it. He wants, he wants, he wants -

"Um, Shouto?"

Startled, he blinks.

Izuku is looking over at him, his work abandoned for the moment. He's watching Shouto carefully, his lower lip tugged between his teeth.

"You're, um, staring. I didn't know if you realized. Did you… need something?"

A little tense, Shouto nods.

Izuku waits patiently for an answer, even going to so far as to set his laptop aside in order to give Shouto his full attention. He gives him all the time in the world to voice his desires.

Then, when none is forthcoming, his eyes go wide.

"Oh," he breathes. "Oh, you -"

"Please," Shouto manages to get out. "Can we -"

"Oh my god, yes -"

In two quick moves, Izuku has him splayed out on his back on the couch, his book forgotten.

He picks Shouto up effortlessly, despite his size, drags him down the cushions and slots himself between his thighs, and Shouto's stomach swoops dangerously low, the noise he makes somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

Izuku kisses it right out of his mouth, hands coming up to cradle his face, and Shouto -

This is nothing like the way Izuku's kissed him before.

His lips crash into Shouto's with an intensity that's just short of reckless, almost bruising; they tease and they taste, his teeth nipping hard enough to sting, and he wastes very little time before he deepens it, licking into Shouto's mouth with a moan so filthy it makes Shouto ache.

Shouto, breathless, can barely keep up.

Still, he tries.

He kisses Izuku back just as hard, his hands wandering along strong sides, broad shoulders. He lets his fingers dig into hard muscle and warm, freckled skin, lets himself feel - and nearly drowns in the sensation, in the overwhelming need to get closer.

They are already nearly as close as two people can get, bodies pressed together from torso to hip; the way Izuku's weight is settled atop him is so, so good, warm and heavy and solid, and yet it's not enough.

It's not enough -

"Izuku," he pants, fingers scrabbling at the hem of Izuku's shirt.

Izuku makes an inquisitive noise, too busy sucking bruises into Shouto's collarbones to bother looking up. He's got the collar of his shirt pulled to the side, the fabric hopelessly stretched -

Shouto arches into the touch just the same, groaning when his teeth scrape across bone.

"Please," he begs, fisting a hand in Izuku's hair, letting his hips cant open even wider. "Please, I -"

Izuku relinquishes his prize with a soft, wet noise, pressing his lips against the mark he's just created. The sting makes Shouto's toes curl in his socks, has his body uncertain whether he wants to get closer or pull away.

"What do you want, baby?" Izuku asks. "What do you need?"

Shouto whines at the pet name, involuntary.

The noise rips itself from his throat, and he twists his face away, cheeks burning.

But Izuku gently catches his chin, turning his head back towards him; he smiles down at him, gently, and presses their foreheads together, letting his lips tease Shouto's cheeks, his jaw.

"Hey," he says. "It's just me."

Shouto nods, weak.

"It's just me, and I'm gonna take care of you," Izuku promises. "I'm gonna make you feel good."

Shouto already feels good. He already feels kind of floaty, every nerve in his body singing; he's so hopelessly turned on and in love he doesn't really know what to do with it, and Izuku -

"Is that okay?" he presses, one hand reaching between them for the blanket, and the only barrier still separating them. "Is that alright, can I show you how much I want you?"

"Yes," Shouto rasps, breathing hard. "Please."

And oh, Shouto thinks, a little dazed -

But Izuku does.

Later, as they're lying in bed together, Izuku makes a contemplative noise.

He's sprawled across Shouto's chest, tracing absent patterns into his skin with his fingers as Shouto dozes, utterly sated and content - but something about the sound draws his attention. It seems to demand it, and so he blinks himself awake as best as he can and lifts an eyebrow in question.

"It's just so easy," Izuku murmurs, shaking his head.

"What is?" Shouto asks.

"This. You and me, together… us."

"…were you expecting it to be hard?"

"It's not that," Izuku says quickly. "I didn't - that's not what I thought at all."

His hand stops moving then, stilling where it sits at Shouto's side; Shouto barely has time to mourn the loss before Izuku's leaning down to rest his chin in the divot of Shouto's sternum, which -

Is also acceptable, he decides. It's also nice.

"But I never thought everything would feel this right, either. I didn't think it would be - I mean, you feel it too, yeah? It's not just me?"

Shouto swallows.

"It's not just you," he confirms.

"And I don't want to rush into anything. I don't want to - force this." Izuku pauses for a moment, eyes starting to water. "But I think sometimes you just know."

For once, he doesn't have to elaborate.

Shouto knows exactly what he means, because it's the same exact thought that's been ringing in his mind almost nonstop since they decided to start dating.

This is it, for him.

This is forever.

He doesn't think he could ever feel this way about anyone else, and while he also doesn't want to rush into anything without thinking it through, and marriage might be - a little much, at this stage, he knows he's not very likely to change his mind. He's known and loved Izuku for the better part of twenty years, after all, even if it was mostly as his friend, and if nothing he's seen so far has been enough to make him second guess himself, what else possibly could?

Nothing, he thinks.

There's nothing Izuku could do that make Shouto adore him any less, because Izuku is the very best person that he knows. This relationship, this man, is who and what he wants.

And so he grabs for Izuku's hands, holding them gently within his own, and says, "I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

Predictably, Izuku's face scrunchess up at that.

He sobs, shoving the rest of his face into Shouto's chest with enough force to drive the wind from his lungs as he starts bawling, a stream of just barely coherent praises slipping past his lips.

Shouto lets out a quiet oomph as Izuku clings to him, fond and exasperated in equal measures. He lays there and strokes Izuku's hair until he manages to pull himself back together, and when Izuku finally draws back with a very watery sniffle, wiping at his eyes, he smiles.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Izuku chokes, waving his hands. "No, that was - that was perfect. You're perfect, and I -"

He cuts himself off with a soft sound, lifting a hand to palm Shouto's cheek -

The left one, the one he's always felt a little self-conscious about.

"I love you," Izuku says gently. "You know that… right? I love you so much, I -"

Shouto exhales out a shaky breath, tugging on Izuku's arms until he's close enough to kiss; he steals the words right out of Izuku's mouth, leftover tears and all, and sighs, content.

"Yeah," he breathes, once they break apart. "I know. I…"

"You don't have to say it back," Izuku offers, gentle.

Shouto shakes his head.

"I feel the same, though," he protests. "I care about you, too, and I want - I want you to know that. I need you to understand what you mean to me, Izuku."

"What I mean to you…?"

Shouto kisses him again, harder.

"Everything."

Izuku groans at that, his other hand coming up to clutch at Shouto's neck.

"You can't say things like that," he says. "You'll make me fall in love with you all over again."

Shouto hums and lets Izuku nestle his way back between his thighs, wrapping his arms around Izuku's shoulders and pulling him in tight as they start to move together, bodies intertwined.

"Oh no," he teases, deadpan. "That sounds horrible -"

Izuku shushes him with a kiss, very, very put out, and Shouto laughs until he cries.

"So that's it, then? You and the Midoriya boy, you're -"

Endeavor trails off, leaving the question open-ended. It's almost like he can't bring himself to ask, like if he says it, then it will become real.

Shouto thinks that his father's really gonna have to get over that.

"Izuku and I," he says, putting extra emphasis on the name, "are getting married, yes. In four months."

Then, because he can, he adds, "You aren't invited."

There's a snort from the other end of the line, followed by a muffled sigh.

"I can't say I'm all that surprised," he mutters. "You and Deku always were - oddly close." He pauses then, considers. "Is that it, then? You're just going to give up on passing on your quirk, having a family?"

"I never said I didn't want a family," Shouto replies. When his father starts to protest, he cuts him off and says, "I just wanted it to be one that I chose."

Enji snorts. "So long as you're certain, Shouto. You'll be giving up a lot for this."

"I'm not giving up anything," Shouto corrects.

He glances up from the phone then, to where Izuku is busy sorting through boxes in the kitchen. Though he'd moved in a couple of weeks ago, their engagement officially confirmed and announced to the media last week, after a private dinner where they'd told their friends the happy news, neither of them have had much opportunity to unpack; Izuku's been mostly living out of his suitcases, the bags and boxes that line the hallway to the bedrooms half-empty, and while Shouto told him to take as long as needed, and that they could hire a professional moving company if would be easier, he has to admit it's amusing watching Izuku rediscover all of his own belongings in real time.

It's cute, because he'll hold up some knick-knack that looks like it came from the hundred yen store down the street and try to convince Shouto it's a one-of-a-kind artifact. He'll insist it's incredibly valuable, worth way more than money can buy, and Shouto will have to watch as a veritable piece of junk is hung up on his pristine walls, his carefully organized bookcases and hallway shelves.

He wouldn't have it any other way, he thinks.

He's not giving up a damn thing, because his heart's so full, he thinks it might burst -

But explaining something like to Enji Todoroki is probably a losing battle.

Shouto doesn't really care to try.

"Congratulations, then. For what it's worth."

With a wry snort, Shouto retorts, "Thank you. For what's it worth."

"Am I allowed to send you a card, at least? Or is that too off the table?"

Shouto rolls his eyes, switching his phone from one ear to the other. "I don't need your money," he informs his father. "And I don't really want gifts you only buy out of obligation."

He's met with silence on the other end, as well as Izuku's curious gaze over the back of the couch.

Though he doesn't say anything, the way he's got his lips pursed as he stares at Shouto has him sighing, and so he clears his throat and says, "But if you insist on sending a fruit basket, my address hasn't changed. I like sweet melon and strawberries."

"Noted."

After he hangs up the phone, Shouto groans, sliding down the couch until he's staring up at the ceiling.

He lays there for a couple of moments, feeling very sorry for himself, and then pushes up to his elbows, intrigued that Izuku's normal bumping and thumping around hasn't resumed.

"Something wrong?" he asks, pushing his bangs out of his face as he sits back up.

"No!" Izuku says quickly - too quickly, Shouto thinks. "Nothing's wrong, Shouto, why would - why would you think -"

"Izuku."

Izuku winces. "Okay, so - I know it's not my business to tell you how to handle your relationship with your dad. And I am completely and one hundred percent behind you not inviting him to the wedding, you know I am. I'm glad you feel like you can set your own boundaries with him."

"…but?"

"But I'm, um, proud of you? For letting him send you a card?"

Shouto blinks, uncomprehending, and Izuku hastens to explain.

"It just feels like closure! Like, working up the courage to tell him that we're getting married, and then accepting his congratulations. And I know it doesn't necessarily mean anything, when the congrats is coming from someone like him, someone you don't really care about, but - getting closure on this isn't about him. It's about you, and I think… I hope maybe now you can just, um. Be happy with the life that you've chosen, and the people you love."

Izuku blushes then, like he's said something he shouldn't have.

He squeaks, turning back to the box and unwrapping several All Might themed commemorative cups with a speed that really isn't ideal for glassware; he shoves them in the cabinet with very little grace, his shoulders slowly creeping up towards his ears -

And when Shouto pushes to his feet and pads into the kitchen, curling a cool arm around his waist and drawing him back into his chest, he just takes a deep breath, caught, and tips his head back.

"I am, you know," Shouto tells him. "I haven't been unhappy since I was a child, but now…"

He pauses, using his free hand to push Izuku's curls to the side, so he can press a kiss to his forehead.

"You make my life so much better, Izuku."

Izuku's eyes water; his lips tremble, and he reaches down to tangle their fingers together, his grip on Shouto's arm tight enough to bruise.

"Yeah?" he breathes, a little wet. "I do?"

Shouto nods and kisses him again.

"It makes me want to try and do the same for you," he admits, and he's not - expecting Izuku to start full-on sobbing in their very messy, dimly lit kitchen, standing there in an ensemble of Hero Shouto-themed boxers, his commemorative All Might knee socks and a tank top that is at least two sizes too small at five o'clock in the afternoon on the second Sunday in January.

But then again, maybe he should have been.

Maybe this was how it was always going to end, the two of them clinging to each other as Izuku sobbed his heart out and Shouto kissed his tears away.

Maybe, like Izuku had said, it was always going to be them.

Izuku turns around then, grabbing a fistful of Shouto's sweatshirt and pushing up onto his toes. He kisses Shouto, soft and sweet and lingering, and Shouto's hands settle on his waist with a hum.

"I love you," he breathes. "I love you - so much, Shouto -"

It's not the first time Izuku's said it.

It's not even the first way that Izuku's meant it, and yet the words send a pleasant little frisson of electricity down Shouto's spine, warming him from the inside out. He's not sure he'll ever get used to the almost careless, easy way Izuku doles out affection, or how fiercely he loves.

He's not sure why he'd ever want to.

"I love you, too," he says, his smile soft, and this time -

The words come easily.

A week and a half after their wedding, Shouto wakes up in Okinawa.

It's early yet.

The sun is just barely starting to creep above the horizon, lighting the water up in brilliant shades of yellow and orange. Distantly, he can hear birds calling to one another through the open windows, the wind tugging on the leaves of the trees and the gauzy curtains of their hotel room alike - the island is waking up around them, slowly but surely, and Izuku is a warm, solid weight against his back, arm lazily draped across his waist.

Shouto twists, so that he's lying less on his side and more flat.

It twinges a bit, that now-familiar ache in his lower back pulling a bit with the movement; Izuku is never truly rough with him, not really, always taking him apart so, so carefully - but he is sometimes very thorough, and last night, he'd spent hours doing just that. He'd had Shouto on the edge of falling for what felt like forever, until Shouto's endurance had finally given out and he'd been nothing more than a very large, very sated puddle in the middle of the bed, almost too heavy to move out of the way -

But Izuku was strong enough to pick him up with one arm.

He was also very, very attentive when it came to aftercare, and had made sure to clean him up, get him some water, and then order more sweets from the room service menu for him to nibble on while they watched old movies.

If he's being honest, Shouto's a little sad they have to go back to work the day after tomorrow.

He likes it here; he likes having Izuku all to himself like this, in their own private bubble, without any of the distractions and responsibilities they find in their everyday lives - but he also knows that they're heroes, and that they have people who depend on them. They can't spend the rest of their lives holed up in a private resort cabin on the beach.

After they retire, though…

Hmm.

It's not a bad thought. He'll have to remember to talk to Izuku about it later.

But for now, there's a shifting against his back, Izuku's nose pressing into the warmth of his shoulder and inhaling, deep.

"Shou?"

Shouto hums, watching as a seagull dips down towards the waves to catch something - a bit of seaweed, maybe, or a small fish. The poor bird doesn't quite stick the landing, and his lips twitch with amusement as it splashes beak-first into the ocean.

"You're up early," Izuku muses, propping his chin up on Shouto's arm. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," Shouto replies softly. "I slept well. Just… thinking."

He and Izuku watch the bird for a moment longer - or maybe something else has captured Izuku's attention. Maybe he's watching the resort staff slowly unfolding the umbrellas and beach chairs they'd put away last night, or the early beachcombers walking along the shore.

(He's not, of course.

He's staring at the way the light from the window paints Shouto's bare skin golden, and the way his eyes are still half-lidded with sleep, but that's neither here not there.)

"What are you thinking about?" he finally asks, trailing a hand over Shouto's hip towards his ribs. He likes to settle his hands there, Shouto's noticed, right over his heart. It's like he takes some kind of comfort in the low, steady thrum of it beating, like it's grounding; something about that makes Shouto ache every time he realizes he's doing it. "Anything in particular?"

"Mmm. I was just thinking…"

"Yes?"

"…I never did get a cake as tall as me."

Izuku is quiet for a moment, still. Then -

"Oh, my god," he chokes, collapsing into a fit of giggles at Shouto's back. "Shouto -"

He sighs. "I missed my chance at being baked into a pastry."

"You know, I don't think they actually baked the pigeons into the cake," Izuku points out, still laughing every now and then. "Like, I think they must have cut out part of the middle and added them afterwards, before they frosted it, because I'm pretty sure the oven would, um - not be good for them."

Shouto frowns, glancing up at Izuku.

"I'm fireproof, though," he points out. "My body can withstand temperatures up to -"

"Half of you is fireproof," Izuku interjects. "The other half… not so much."

"…ah."

Izuku snorts, fond. "Did you forget that bit?"

"I suppose it wasn't a very well-thought out plan."

"Aw, babe," Izuku croons, huffing out a laugh when he sees the way Shouto's lower lip juts out a bit in something of a pout. "Noooo, don't make that face - I thought our cake was pretty good!"

It was good.

It had been three layers of chocolate sponge and delicate vanilla buttercream, with spun sugar icicles and fondant snowdrops spilling down the sides. Sato had promised them his very best work, refusing to take any payment other than the cost of the ingredients, and Shouto had had three separate pieces by the time the wedding reception was all said and done. He's pretty sure most of the top layer is sitting safely in their freezer back at home, ready to eat when they get back.

But it hadn't been as tall as he was.

He hadn't been able to burst out of it in a chocolate and frosting explosion, scaring the guests half to death when they unthinkingly went up to grab a slice, and while he knows that was pretty low on the list of things they'd considered as possibilities for their wedding, something Izuku had vetoed almost from the very start of their planning, he's still a little disappointed.

He is a tad bit put out that he didn't get his dream cake.

Izuku sighs, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"You know, there's always our anniversary," he offers, extremely reluctant.

Shouto blinks, brows furrowing.

"And I know it's not the same, because we probably won't have a party for it or anything, but… if you can get Momo or Sato to make you a cake that size, and if you promise to help me clean everything up afterwards - you can, um, try to scare me? In our apartment?"

"Izuku."

"Like, I'm not saying it'll work - because I'll be expecting it, and you, um, can't really miss a cake two meters tall. But you can try! You are - more than welcome to try and frighten me -"

"Izuku," Shouto says again, putting his fingers to the other's lips, for good measure.

Izuku stares at him, bemused.

"Yeah?" he asks, voice a little muffled.

"…you would do that?" Shouto murmurs, oddly touched. "For me?"

Izuku smiles and huffs out a laugh, lifting a hand to brush Shouto's bangs aside.

"Like I said, Shou," he murmurs. "I'm pretty sure I would do anything for you -"

Shouto can't help it.

He melts into the touch, grabbing Izuku's wrist so he can press a kiss to his palm. He is so, so in love with this man, this beautiful, wonderful man he's lucky enough to call his best friend too -

"- even if 'anything' involves cleaning up a cake that weighs as much as I do as it ruins my kitchen and puts me off sweets for the rest of my life. It can be our ten year anniversary surprise."

"One," Shouto counters, smiling. "One year, the first one -"

"Eight."

"Three."

"Five! Five, that's my final offer, take it or leave it -"

Shouto leans forward and kisses him, right on the mouth; he doesn't have to look at Izuku to know he's smiling, and when he pulls back, so, so happy he feels a little silly with it -

"Deal," he murmurs. "I'll hold you to that."

Izuku snorts, the sound so, so fond, and palms his cheek.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I'm sure you will."