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Izuku sleeps on the sofa next to him, his knees tucked to his chest and blanket draped off of one shoulder.
Shouto discovered him like this after dinner and considered moving him to his bed, but instead he found himself sitting next to him in the quiet of their apartment with nowhere better to be.
Izuku is his best friend, and that has never scared him before. If anything it saved him at one point, but here he is, watching him sleep, and his heart is pounding so quickly he isn’t sure if he can survive it.
It’s raining which only makes it worse. Shouto never noticed the weather before, never had a reason to if it wouldn’t affect his quirk, but now every time he hears a roll of thunder in the distance, he wonders if it will be a good day for Izuku or a bad day.
He pretends he doesn’t hurt, but Shouto sees it.
He sees the way he kneads his knuckles while he waits for his coffee to brew, or the way he can’t quite put his weight on either leg for too long, and it’s always worse on days when it rains.
And tonight it’s pouring.
Shouto turned the light off a while ago to give Izuku a little peace, and the TV plays low in the background, but Shouto has spent the entire time he’s been sitting here with him watching him instead.
Izuku’s mouth rests in a pout, and his brow stays furrowed but without the agitation of a bad dream, and if Shouto got any closer, he could count all the freckles on his cheeks before Izuku ever realizes he’s there.
“Do you think you and Izuku will ever get married?”
It was his mom who asked, and Shouto in his surprise sent a wave of ice in one direction and torched part of her garden in the other, and then he dropped to his knees and apologized profusely for ruining his mother’s garden.
Rei knelt down in front of him and took his face in her hands, and it was one of the first times he ever let his mother see him cry.
And he sobbed.
Shouto didn’t even know why it made him so sad when the question itself was only an incorrect assumption about a relationship he didn’t have.
His chest aches again, and his eyes prick with tears, and like a child he almost kicks out at the unfairness of what that is.
The answer to every question about them is always something along the lines of oh, no, it’s not like that, and each and every time, the edge of those misunderstandings cuts deeper and deeper, and it’s just not fair that caring about someone this much hurts more than not caring at all.
But Shouto can’t bring himself to stop.
He’s thought about it. He’s a master of his own emotions, and he knows how to cut himself off better than anyone else, but the thought of taking that hole Izuku carved out with his own bare hands and filling it up with mud and dirt makes his stomach rise into his throat, so no matter how much it hurts, Shouto will never allow himself to turn away from it.
Loving Izuku gave him everything.
Befriending him gave him everything.
Izuku smashed a hole right through the thick carbon husk Shouto had erected for himself, and with it came so many good things that Shouto went from knowing what his purpose looked like from a distance to being someone who gets to be so happy that he knows what it means to cry with a smile across his lips.
Just like Izuku does.
Shouto’s crybaby hero.
No, not his.
But that has never mattered before.
This might be considered pouting, and if it is, so be it. Shouto wraps his hands around one of Izuku’s arms and urges him towards him, and Izuku, with no reason to consider this a threat, goes easily into Shouto’s arms, and Shouto steals him because he’s a selfish child who needs to have his way for once.
There.
That’s better.
He closes his eyes and holds Izuku to his chest, and for the first time in months he can actually breathe.
He’ll pretend this was an accident.
He’ll say they both fell asleep talking, and that he doesn’t remember how they got here, and everything will be fine because Izuku is someone who understands. He’s a good friend, and that’s never once stopped being true. Even if he doesn’t know how much Shouto cares about him, he’ll allow this because they’re friends and that’s reason enough.
Maybe Shouto cares about him too much, if that’s possible.
Maybe he does.
So what?
Izuku is warm in his arms. Shouto doesn’t usually notice the difference between hot and cold, but he imagines this is what people mean when they say something is cozy.
Warm blankets, hot tea, soup.
Oh.
Shouto gets it now.
For him, that’s Izuku.
He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, all the muscles in his body relaxing into the couch, and he thinks it wouldn’t be hard to pretend to be asleep if Izuku were to suddenly wake up and discover them.
He might not have to pretend at all.
Shouto keeps one arm over Izuku’s back, and with the other, his hand trails lazily through a thick cloud of green.
Izuku is soft to the touch, a fact that Shouto has never let himself become too familiar with, but he is undeniably the strongest person Shouto has ever met. It would be nothing for him to pick up this couch with Shouto still on it and carry it away, and like this, asleep and comfortable, he’s almost too delicate.
Never fragile, though.
Nothing about him could be.
Even his tears could cut through mountains.
Izuku shifts in his arms, and Shouto can’t help but frown in disappointment. This wasn’t meant to last, he knows, but it feels like an opportunity he’s waited half his life for, and now it’s over, not that that opportunity was ever really his to begin with.
“Mm, sorry, Shouto,” he says like this is somehow his fault, and he pushes himself up like he means to get up off of him.
Without thinking, Shouto grabs him and holds him in place. “Don’t go.”
“What?” Izuku asks in surprise, his heavy eyes forced open as he looks down at him from his perch on Shouto’s chest.
“Don’t get up,” he says, and it’s one of the first times he’s ever told Izuku what to do, even if it’s only just a forceless request.
Izuku looks over him for a moment and nods. “Alright.”
“Thank you.”
“Is everything okay?”
Shouto nods that it is, and Izuku frowns slightly like he doesn’t believe him. “What?”
“Your eyes are red,” he says, and Shouto turns away.
“No, they’re not.”
“Don’t hide from me,” Izuku says. “What is it?”
“Can you stay here for a few minutes?”
Izuku’s eyebrows raise. “Do you need a hug?”
Shouto shakes his head, but Izuku remains propped up on his chest, staying here like he asked, but watching too closely. Izuku paying too much attention isn’t anything out of the ordinary, but it might make it more difficult for Shouto to hide his thoughts in the moment, thoughts that were always meant to be private and hidden away.
He watches him too closely, and soon enough, watching won’t be enough. He’s always been so persistent with everything he puts his mind to, and when it comes to people, that persistence is limitless. He’ll want to talk about whatever made Shouto’s treacherous eyes red, because talking about feelings is good thing, and he’ll poke and prod until he finally gets Shouto to tell him that he loves him, because saying things like that is a good thing, and he’ll smile at him like Shouto did some wonderful thing by letting himself love him, but the sick joke here is that he didn’t let himself do anything.
Izuku will regard his feelings with kindness and distant appreciation because he’s a good person, but even if Shouto looks at him now and says them out loud, Izuku will never know that he can’t remember ever not feeling this way about him.
This isn’t anything new or special. The only difference between now and all the other years he’s stood by his side is that he now knows how it feels to have Izuku pressed against his chest, and he’s not ready to let that feeling go yet.
Shouto has loved Izuku for a long time, and for just as long, being his friend is all he never needed.
But he thinks that thread has finally run out.
“Shouto?” Izuku asks, and then his thumb is rubbing away a tear from Shouto’s cheek, and Shouto doesn’t remember one slipping out. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says and puts his hand over his, holding it against his cheek right at the edge of his scar. Izuku’s hands are rough because they have to be, but they are the only part of him that is.
Lightning flashes outside, too far away to crash, but the light still reflects over the ceiling behind him like a perfect halo.
He must be an angel or, at least, the closest Shouto will ever get to seeing one.
“What do I feel like to you?”
“Warm,” he says, his palm cupping his cheek. Shouto’s eyes water, and Izuku reaches across to the other side. “Cool here.”
“Didn’t you already know that?”
Izuku shakes his head. “No, but I probably should have guessed.”
“Why?”
“Because your hands are like that,” he says. “One is warm, but the other isn’t.”
“Oh.”
“I guess this means all of you should be like this.”
“That’s probably a reasonable assumption,” he says. “I can’t feel the difference.”
Izuku smiles and presses the back of his hand to the center of Shouto’s forehead.
“Are you checking my temperature?”
“Sort of,” he laughs. “I was wondering if there was a divide in the middle.”
“Is there?”
“Kind of,” he says, touching over his face with a gentle curiosity. “It’s not a line, but it does seem to go from hot to cold so gradually you can barely tell the difference.”
“That’s interesting,” Shouto says, but he doesn’t really think it is. His quirk is just a quirk, but having Izuku’s attention is nice.
Izuku moves to his ear and kneads his lobe, the tips of his fingers brushing along his neck just enough to send a shiver down his spine. “This is warm.”
“What about the other?”
Izuku adjusts his weight over him before taking his other lobe between his fingers. “Ice cold.”
“Oh.”
“It’s colder than your hand on this side is.”
Shouto reaches to take his hand and move it. “What about here?”
“Where–?”
He puts the outer curve of his knuckle to his lips and watches Izuku’s eyes widen in surprise, searching for any sign on his face that this isn’t okay. That even through Izuku’s persistence and infinite understanding, this would be too far even for them.
Because for once Shouto needs it not to be.
Izuku swallows. “Warm.”
“It isn’t both?”
Izuku shakes his head and brushes his thumb over Shouto’s bottom lip from one side to the other.
“Your mouth is so warm, it’s almost like–,” he says before jerking his hand away. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was–.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I shouldn’t touch you like that.”
“Why not?”
Izuku smiles slightly. “Because it’s your mouth.”
“I don’t think that matters.”
“Shouto…”
“You can touch me however you want to,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be for my quirk, but it’s okay if it is.”
“Why else would I–?”
Shouto brings his hand back to his mouth, pressing it flat against the skin, and Izuku’s eyes widen, but through that surprise, Shouto doesn’t see a single flicker of pity or disinterest, and maybe it’s stupid that it gives him hope, and for once, he chases it.
“Izuku,” he says. “I want you to.”
Izuku lets out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering over his face too quickly, a thousand thoughts passing through his mind at once, and all of them come together to create something that looks too much like bewilderment, but how is that possible?
How could he even question why Shouto would want him to?
Was Shouto really that good at hiding it? This entire time?
He pushes himself up towards him, paced enough that if Izuku wanted to move away, he could, and he presses a kiss to his lips, their first, and with the blissful taste of warmth he finds, he refuses to let it be their last.
Izuku doesn’t pull away, only gasps in surprise before Shouto presses another, and then with his third, he feels Izuku’s move, but not towards him. It’s a thought. A question, maybe. A decision or the lack of one.
Shouto pulls away. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I shouldn’t kiss you,” he says. “It’s not right.”
“Why not?”
“Why not,” Shouto echoes.
“Why? Why can’t you–,” Izuku asks and cuts off his own question by moving back to Shouto, pressing a kiss in return without an ounce of hesitation.
If Shouto really did hide his feelings that well, then at least he can be relieved to know that the moment Izuku discovered them, he didn’t lose him. That would have been the only outcome he wouldn’t have been able to accept.
But this is not loss.
No, this feels too good. Too correct.
Izuku sits on his lap now, kissing him earnestly, and at some point between want and have, the dam broke.
Tears fall over his cheeks, and Izuku only kisses him harder, even as his face twists.
Shouto has always known that Izuku loved him, but he never really understood in what way, or he refused to allow himself to look too closely, afraid he would find an answer he would have to learn to live with, the one he believed to be true for all this time.
But he doesn’t kiss him like that.
This isn’t the result of ten years of a careful companionship, but of a wall coming down, one Shouto thought was put up by his own two hands. Could it have been both of them this entire time? Did Izuku–?
No, this is definitely new.
If Izuku returned his feelings at any point, Shouto would have known, and he wouldn’t have waited so damn long.
What was he waiting for?
What could have possibly been worse than not knowing what this feels like?
Thunder rumbles softly in the distance, but Shouto barely hears it, too lost in this comfortable bliss to care about anything else. Too deep into Izuku. Kissing, holding, keeping, wanting, needing, having, enjoying, being, loving.
Shouto makes a small noise in content, and Izuku pulls back with a gasp like this is all suddenly a surprise.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he says, covering his mouth. “Oh my god, Shouto.”
“What?” Shouto asks, pushing himself up to sit, and thankfully Izuku doesn’t get up off of his lap. “What’s wrong?”
“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I got carried away, I’m so–.”
“I’m the one who kissed you.”
Izuku pauses. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate,” he says.
“No, no, it’s not–,” he says, stopping to look down, and swallows. “It’s just a lot.”
Shouto takes a breath. “I see.”
“I’ve just wanted to kiss you for so long that when it happened I kind of lost my mind for a minute there, but are you okay? Are you good?”
Izuku looks at him with so much concern, and yet, Shouto can’t find it within himself to match him. He Should because that’s the decent thing to do, but Izuku is so honest, he’s not sure if he realizes what he just said right then.
He loves him back.
After all this time, Shouto’s feelings were returned.
“I’m good,” he says. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” Izuku nods, almost breathless. “Okay, great. Nice. Awesome. You’re good.”
“Are you good?”
Izuku nods too quickly for that to be true.
Shouto frowns. “Izuku.”
“I’m good! I’m good, I’m just–.”
“Just… what?”
“Overwhelmed?”
Shouto nods and looks off. “I see.”
“I should–,” he says as he moves his leg to leave, and Shouto grabs him, holding him in place. “Shouto.”
“Don’t go,” he says.
“This can’t be comfortable.”
“It is,” he lies. “I could sit here all night.”
“Shouto, please,” he says, and Shouto thinks he might not be buying it.
“I don’t want you to get up,” he says. “I want to kiss you again.”
Izuku looks over him, surprised but not unhappy. “You do?”
Shouto nods that he does, and he moves closer as an invitation, but he lets Izuku make the decision this time.
“Okay,” he says quietly before a quick, experimental peck that immediately gives way to more.
That’s better.
This is what he needed.
The fog in his head and the boulders in his chest all lift away, and Shouto kisses Izuku because Izuku wants to.
He wraps his arms around him and twists the two of them until he has Izuku on his back with himself hovering above, and he enjoys him as much as Izuku will allow.
“My mom–,” Izuku says between kisses, and Shouto knows his persistence isn’t fair, especially when Izuku is trying to speak, but now that they’ve started, stopping has become impossible. “She said–. She asked–. About us.”
Shouto does stop for that. “She did?”
“Mhm,” Izuku nods.
“What did you tell her?”
“I said you’re my best friend,” he says, and Shouto looks over his face. Yes, that is true. They are quite close.
“My mom asked about us too,” he says.
“Oh yeah?” Izuku asks, surprised. “What did you say?”
“I said the same thing you did,” and Izuku smiles like that’s what he wanted to hear.
“Yeah?”
Shouto nods.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he says, reaching for his collar, and Shouto follows him, almost completely fading away into nothing at the content sigh he earns.
Are they on the same page?
He kisses him again over another roll of thunder, and he thinks then that they have to be. It feels less like a question and more like unspoken battle plans when he can just look at him and know what he’s thinking and the enemy can’t.
It’s just like this.
Scarred fingers spread through his hair, and Shouto settles comfortably between Izuku’s legs, both of them content to wait out the rest of the storm just like this.
It’s a relief that they won’t have to stop for one of them to make his way home, but the fact that they will have to stop at all is completely unacceptable.
A yawn comes for him, and Shouto pulls away so he doesn’t blow directly in his mouth, and Izuku smiles at him like there’s something particularly amusing about that.
“Go to sleep, Shou,” he says.
“I’m not tired.”
Izuku smiles and reaches up to brush his hair away. “Liar.”
“I don’t want to move.”
“You don’t have to,” he says, his own eyes heavy, and that’s when Shouto finally understands the appeal of having a couch at all.
“I see.”
Izuku strokes the back of his hair, coaxing him towards him until Shouto is resting on his shoulder with his eyes closing on their own. He’s so much warmer than a bed is. He’s so much warmer than anything Shouto has ever experienced.
The word cozy comes to mind again, and Izuku’s arms settle around him in a way that reminds him of how they were when it was Izuku who slept just a moment ago. If this is what that felt like then he should have no reason to feel guilty for stealing him.
“I want to go to sleep,” he says.
“Oh now you do,” Izuku laughs, and Shouto nods.
“It’s comfortable.”
“Mmmk,” he hums and pets the back of his head.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
“Good,” Shouto mutters, soothed too easily by such a simple touch.
The rise in Izuku’s chest grows steady as the movements of his fingers fade to a stop, and by the time Shouto realizes Izuku has fallen asleep, he’s already halfway there with them.
This must mean they really are on the same page.
This may be the most rested he’s felt in months, and it’s most certainly the happiest.
Shouto has cared for Izuku for a long time, and he will continue to do so for as long as he’s capable. The fact that his feelings were returned only strengthens his endurance, and it solidifies his resolve.
Waiting to kiss him was stupid.
Loving him wasn’t.
Both of them sleeping on the couch together all night might be.
Shouto doesn’t care.