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Heart By Design

Summary:

In all of the time Izuku spent researching how to get his first tattoo, falling for his tattoo artist was never listed as one of the key important steps. That must be because whoever wrote all of those super helpful articles he studied never had the chance to meet Kirishima Eijirou in person.

But it happens, right? People get crushes on nice, pretty strangers all the time. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like he’ll ever see him again.

Notes:

Howdy!

I wrote this fic six months ago, but time isn’t real so it’s fine I think. I debated on posting this as a beefy one shot for the longest time, but decided it might be easier to read if split up into “smaller” bites. I really hope you enjoy this!!! There are cutie pies afoot! :3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Izuku has always been someone who could be described as thorough.

All of his special interests each have their own notebooks (sorted by color), he memorizes restaurant menus before going out with friends so that he doesn’t spend twenty minutes caught in a life or death decision, and even if overtime becomes the running joke of his life, he never leaves a job half completed. 

Izuku is thorough, dedicated, and well-prepared, and it should come as a surprise to no one that this would extend to his decision to get his first tattoo.

He only really told Shouto about his plans. His other friends would either try to talk him out of it or tease him like he’s going to chicken out as soon as he feels the first needle prick, but this is something he’s been wanting to do for a while. It’s always been somewhat of a fantasy for him, being a cool guy covered in fresh ink but like in a quiet Clark Kent kind of way. The office nerd with a secret. Who doesn’t love that?

Shouto was on board, naturally. He’s always been something of a silent rebel himself, so when Izuku finally brought it up, he just nodded easily and asked him what he wanted to get.

That… was the first problem.

Izuku kind of got wrapped up in his own head. He thought he was supposed to get something with meaning, because this is a life changing decision that would be permanently displayed on his body forever, right? His first tattoo has to represent him to the fullest or everyone in the whole world is going to know he’s a fraud. So he spent seven months writing down ideas in a skull printed notebook he swiped from Bakugou—appropriate for a tattoo journal, he thinks—and he still ended up just as lost as when he started.

“Just get what you want.”

“Huh?”

By the looks of him, Hitoshi is either the world’s most open and exhaustive book or no one ever gave him the memo that tattoos are supposed to be biographical. 

He sits across from Izuku, covered head to toe in black and gray tattoos that extend all the way up to the underside of his chin and the sides of his stretched ears. His ultraviolet hair is pulled back into a knot with loose strands hanging around his face, making him look way too much like his adoptive father, but only to people who know them. 

He’s someone who has never had a problem making decisions about himself or his physical appearance in his life. This is a guy who knows exactly who he is and doesn’t care one way or another what anyone else thinks of him. Or it means he cares a lot, but that’s none of Izuku’s business. 

Izuku almost feels naked sitting across from him with his bare, freckled arms and his plain unpierced ears.

“First timers are always like this,” he says over his third cup of coffee. “You can spend three years breaking yourself down to the bare essentials or you can get a fucking mouse playing a banjo. No one gives a shit.”

Izuku sits back in his seat and frowns, the iced lemon tea in his hand leaving a trail of sweat onto the table. “What if I choose wrong?”

“You can get another one.”

He looks up at him as Hitoshi stands up from the table and stretches. “Break’s over. Come by the shop when you figure it out, and I’ll try to work you in if I can get an opening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, unless you found a different artist already. I’m not gonna cry about it.”

“No, I’m not even looking,” Izuku laughs. “I like your work, and I know if I start shopping around–.”

Hitoshi nods. They both know if Izuku adds which artist should I go to to his list of tattoo questions, he’ll never actually go through with it, and Izuku does like his work a lot. Without a doubt, he’s personally seen Hitoshi go from doodling anime characters in his notebooks when he wasn’t sleeping through their classes, to getting a full ride to art school, all the way to his first tattoo apprenticeship when he figured out that the fine art world couldn’t make him happy. Izuku knows he’s good, and he doesn’t have to deal with the anxiety of meeting a new person and then easing them into his personality. It would be stupid of him to look elsewhere.

“Thanks for talking with me.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, mid-stretch. “Oh, if you can’t figure it out on your own, just bring your fifty notebooks to the shop. We’ll figure something out.”

“Who said I have fifty noteb–,” Izuku starts before Hitoshi gives him a tired look. “Okay.”



Izuku cannot make a decision. 

It’s been months, seasons even, and he’s about to cycle through another year without getting his first tattoo. He needs to suck it up and just pick something before he wastes anymore time.

He’s not getting any younger, and maybe Hitoshi was right. It doesn’t matter what he gets, and Hitoshi is the expert here, isn’t he? He does this for a living, and he’s covered in them himself. He would know the difference between a good tattoo and a huge, life ruining mistake. Maybe Izuku’s version of being thorough this time needs to be just actually reaching out to someone who knows what they’re doing for help and letting them take control.

So he gets fed up with waiting and decides to rip off the bandaid without a plan. 

Before he heads out, he packs the essentials. He’s got his two handwritten tattoo notebooks with all of his ideas, complete with their intended meanings, and his three ring binder where he keeps all of the scraps of inspiration he’s printed out over the last five years. (He knows, he knows, but this is a big deal, okay?). He also packs a granola bar just in case since he has absolutely no idea what kind of adventure he’s about to walk into.

The shop Hitoshi works at opens at noon and closes at midnight, but Izuku thinks showing up right as they open might make him seem too eager. He doesn’t want the first impression he makes for his friend’s coworkers to be over achieving first timer. These are tattoo people after all. He doesn’t want them to know he’s an outsider of this super secret club that all tattooed people seem to belong in. He wants to blend in. 

So at 12:25 he walks through the door with his backpack and his determination.

As soon as he walks in, he’s hit by the strong scent of some kind of disinfectant he’s never smelled before, and it almost knocks the wind out of his lungs. It’s more potent than what he smells when he walks into hospitals, but it doesn’t make him think of a public restroom that was just cleaned either. It’s friendly, he thinks. Clean like a strong soap. 

“Hello!”

Izuku jumps slightly, startled by the person behind the desk that he didn’t notice when he walked in. He looks over to see a guy with candy apple red hair pulled out of his face, just as tattooed as Hitoshi, maybe more, but without all the piercings. A receptionist, maybe? Another artist?

“It is soap,” he says. “Green soap, we call it. Oh and Lysol, I guess.”

“What?”

“The smell,” he says. “It’s the soap we use to prep the skin and stuff, and I just wiped down my station a few minutes ago, so it might be a little of the disinfectant too. You get used to it.”

Izuku flushes slightly. “I didn’t know I said that out loud.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your monologue,” he says, and Izuku actually doesn’t think he’s making fun of him. 

“I, uh–,” he sputters. Never mind, he doesn’t need to know he has a muttering problem. “I like it. Smells clean.”

“Safety first!” 

He smiles with all of his teeth, beaming like the sun itself has been dragged down and hidden behind this one specific tattoo shop desk, and Izuku’s embarrassment melts away. It’s certainly not the reaction he’s used to getting out of people who aren’t used to him.

“So how can I help ya?”

“Oh,” Izuku steps forward. Of course, this is a business, and he’s not allowed to stand in the doorway all day sniffing the lobby. He walks over to the desk and tries to not think about the fact that this is a tattoo shop. This is where people get tattoos. Pain exists here. Never mind his inhuman pain tolerance, it’s the principle of the thing. “I’m here to see Hitoshi– uhh, Shinsou Hitoshi, sorry.”

He frowns and looks down at a logbook on the desk and flips through the last few pages. “Did you have an appointment?”

“Oh, no sorry, he just told me to drop by.”

He sucks his teeth and grimaces. “Oh man, sorry dude, but Hitoshi is out this week.”

Izuku pales. “What?”

“He got the flu or something. I dunno, owner doesn’t let us work when we’re sick. No germs in the House of Fatgum!”

“Oh,” he swallows. “I guess I could come back.”

“You getting a tattoo or is this an, umm, social call?”

“A tattoo,” Izuku says quickly, like his life depends on it. “My first. We’re just friends. I mean, we went to school together. He’s a friend.”

“Gotcha,” he nods.

Oh man. 

“Well, uhh,” he looks around. “I am also a person who tattoos people, if you weren’t set on your friend tattooing you, I mean. Right, you probably were, that's like a thing, isn’t it. Wow, stealing customers when I just got here, good going Eijirou. My bad, dude.”

“No, no! I mean yeah, kinda, but–,” Izuku tries to think of what he should say here. Yes, please tattoo me, sunshine boy, my body is yours, or no, I only picked Hitoshi because I didn’t want to freak out over trying to pick an artist. 

Neither reflect too well on his personality at the moment.

Before Izuku can sort out his thoughts, he grabs a black three ring binder like the one in Izuku’s backpack and slides it towards him across the counter. It’s covered in old stickers, but the page slipped inside of the plastic cover says Kirishima Eijirou with a contact number beneath it.

“My portfolio,” he says, gnawing at a hoop through his lip anxiously. “I mean, if you wanna look. If you don’t like what you see, there’s no hard feelings or anything! I’m just like super not booked yet, and I’m kind of a catch ‘em when you see ‘em kinda guy. Anchors away, haha.”

Izuku doesn’t shut him down. He seems nice, and he didn’t act like a jerk when he caught Izuku contemplating the smell of soap, and saying no outright and running out kind of feels like a cardinal sin. Plus, he’s pretty nice to look at, and if Izuku has an excuse to stay for five more minutes, why not take it?

Anchors away, or something.

He flips the cover open to the first flash sheet. Sharks for Shark Week. He can’t help but smile. He turns each page carefully with delicate hands as he picks through a disorganized cluster of drawings, tattoo flash, and pictures of tattoos he’s already done on other people. Kirishima doesn’t hide the fact that he’s watching him, gauging every one of Izuku’s reactions with audible interest. It’s nerve wracking.

He’s good though. Like, really good. 

Where Hitoshi’s work is a catalog of grayscale and realism with a touch of the macabre, Kirishima’s is a saturated library of bright, vibrant hues locked in place between thick bold lines like the cover of a comic book. 

Izuku can’t find anything he doesn’t like.

“So what do you think? It’s cool if my style isn’t your thing. I can leave a note for Hitoshi to give you a call when he gets back, or we have another artist here who should be in tomorrow. Tamaki is awesome, in my opinion.”

“I like your work a lot,” Izuku swallows. “It’s just–.”

“Right, the bond of friendship,” he nods. “Say no more!”

“It’s not anything like that, I mean we’re friends of course, it’s just that he was kind of going to help me figure out what to get,” he says awkwardly. “I don’t know if I could put a stranger through that…”

Kirishima leans forward and puts his chin in his hands, smiling softly but warmly. “You know that’s fifty percent of the job, right?”

“Oh.”

“It’s actually kind of easier if you don’t know, you know? Like it gives us a little breathing room. Artistic freedom or whatever, and then we get to make something awesome together. Like a team! I mean unless it’s like a secret,” he sits up. “A forbidden tattoo.”

Izuku laughs and shakes his hands. “No, no, just an indecisive customer. Really, I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

“That’s okay,” he says kindly. “You should always do what makes you comfortable. Don’t worry about it.”

Izuku nods, eyes glued to his face. He’s just so nice… 

And his work is really good. It made Izuku a little tingly just looking at it, and that’s how a tattoo is supposed to feel, right? Exciting? Something he wants to look at all the time? 

This is his artist. Sorry Hitoshi.

“Can you give me one second,” Izuku says. Kirishima nods, and he pulls out his phone and shoots a quick text to Hitoshi.

Izuku: the red headed artist at your shop

Hitoshi: yeah what about him

Izuku: can he tattoo me

Hitoshi: ????????

Hitoshi: yeah????? 

Izuku: i mean is that okay with you? i don’t wanna step on your toes

Hitoshi: nah eijirou is solid go for it idc

Izuku: thanks

Okay. 

He looks up, and Kirishima is still watching him. Izuku tries to hide how unsettling that is. “I don’t know how to do this tattoo thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“What would you need from me?”

Kirishima sits up, alert and excited. “We doing this?”

“If that’s okay…”

“Hell, yeah, dude! You’re in good hands.”

“I can tell,” he says, and he swears he sees Kirishima’s cheeks flush a light pink. He tries not to think about it. “What do I need to do?”

Kirishima hums in thought and taps his fingers idly on one of the laminated pages of his portfolio. “I have flash sheets, but if you want something custom, some references would help. Pictures or like a list of things you like…”

“Oh! I’ve got both!” Izuku drops his backpack down onto a stool and pulls out his notebooks and his binder. He sets them down on the counter, and Kirishima immediately flips them open without pausing to ask if he can look. Izuku’s own handwriting stares back up at them, and shame pools in his belly. His friends know what a nerd he is, but this guy…

“Nice! This is great dude! It’s gonna take me a while to get through all of this and come up with some sketches. You can leave everything here with me and come back in a few days, or you can hang out here and we can work on it together? I don’t have any bookings, and we usually get our walkins in the afternoon so it wouldn’t be a problem. If you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy,” Izuku says. “Is that really okay? I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Nah, we’ve got couches for a reason. It might be kinda boring watching a dude draw though…”

“I don’t think it would be boring at all,” he says, and Kirishima glances up at him briefly. “I mean if you’re sure it’s okay.”

“Yep! No problem at all!”

Kirishima grabs a sheet of copy paper out of a bin and drops it down between them before swiping a ballpoint pen from the holder. 

Izuku climbs up onto one of the stools and waits for some kind of instructions.

It’s quiet while Kirishima goes through the pictures, a soft frown on his lips.

“Lots of tattoo inspo here,” he says, with the slightest click of his tongue.

“Yeah, I didn’t know what else to look up,” Izuku admits.

“Is there anything here you wanna see on your own body?”

“… not really.”

Kirishima hums and closes the binder. Izuku feels like he just got a big fat F on his report card. Maybe he should have stuck with Hitoshi…

“What do you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything, what kinda stuff do you like,” he asks again. “I like sharks, dragons, anything red, and badass manly shit.”

Izuku can’t help but snort slightly at the last part. “I guess I like–.”

Oh no. He’s gonna find out I’m a loser.

Kirishima scrunches his nose as he smiles. “Dude, I tattooed a tentacle coming out of some guy’s ass last week, I promise this is a judgment free zone.”

“Oh my god.”

“It was purple,” he nods. “I promise, whatever you like is allowed in here.”

Izuku bites his lip and looks down at his hands. “I like tabletop games.”

“What, like Scrabble?” Kirishima blinks.

“No!” Izuku laughs. “Like D&D.”

“Oh! Yeah, that makes more sense. Let me guess, you play a wizard.”

Izuku looks off. “Cleric.”

“That was my second guess,” he smiles as he writes down the words D&D and Cleric. “Okay, what else? Color or black and white?”

“Color, I think.”

Kirishima looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. He pulls out a different binder from behind the desk and opens it up between them. Izuku would recognize these drawings anywhere. “Not a lot of color here, are you sure?”

“Oh! Yeah, I was fine with letting Hitoshi do what he wanted, but I think– I mean I like your colors a lot.”

“Oh,” he says quietly as he closes the binder. “Thank you.”

“I also like rabbits.”

Kirishima looks up at him and pauses. “What?”

“You asked what else I like,” he says shyly. “I like rabbits.”

He points the pen at him and raises one of his little eyebrows. “Now this, I can work with.”

He trades his pen for a pencil and makes a few swooping marks on the page. Messy scratches become shapes, and Izuku thinks he sees what might be bunny ears. He moves to another blank space on the sheet and scribbles something else down, and Izuku watches every pencil stroke carefully. By the time he’s finished, the whole page is covered in pencil marks.

He turns the sheet around and taps one of the drawings with the tip of the pencil. “Do you like the idea of a rabbit head or do you want the whole body? If you want the head we could do something front facing or a side profile, whichever you prefer. Full bodies I think work better from the side, but I can try doing one from the front or back too. It’s no problem.”

Izuku hums and leans forward. Now that he’s pointed out what they are, it’s so obvious, he feels silly for not immediately recognizing the shapes.

“Will it be this size?”

“Nah, I mean not unless you want it to,” Kirishima says. “These are just a few thumbnails for a starting point.”

“Oh.”

Of course they are.

“How big do you want it? And where? Sorry, I should have asked that already, but I got a little carried away.”

“Oh! Umm, I was thinking over my left shoulder, and uhh,” Izuku holds up his hands to make a circle. “I was thinking maybe this big?”

“Awesome! Yeah, any of these should be fine for that. I can do a couple a little bigger if that would help.”

Izuku looks down at the page and twists his mouth. “What do you like?”

Kirishima hums and taps his pencil over one of the ovals. “I think animal heads are kind of badass. I mean they’re so in your face like look at me , you know? It’s like staring at a really intense portrait and feeling like it’s staring back.”

“I wanna do that then,” he nods.

“You sure? This is your tattoo, dude.”

“I know, I just–,” Izuku starts. You just make it sound so amazing, he wants to say, but that might be a little intense for someone he doesn’t know, but it’s true. Kirishima is an excellent salesman, and every idea and suggestion he has feels like it was plucked right from a place inside Izuku’s brain he hasn’t been able to locate. Even if he would have never imagined getting a tattoo of a rabbit head before, isn’t that more him than the busty pinups and demon masks he plucked off of Pinterest? 

Kirishima waits patiently for him to finish, eyes wide and sparkly like he’s hanging onto every word. Like he can hear his thoughts, easily and comfortably–.

Uh oh.

“Did I do it again?”

“‘Fraid so.”

Izuku’s face flushes hot as he turns away in horror, eyes wide and gaping. He could scream. He could actually scream.

“Don’t worry about it, dude! It was really nice! And I don’t have to figure out if you’re just bullshitting me or not!”

“This is so embarrassing, I’m so sorry.”

He pokes him in the arm with the tip of his pencil. “There are worse things you can say to someone than I like your ideas.”

“I guess,” Izuku swallows, still mortified, but trying his best not to show it on his face. Kirishima is undoubtedly the nicest person in the whole world, and Izuku is the number one clown at the circus. “It’s a bad habit.”

“Now who told you that?”

There’s a twinkle to his eye that Izuku thinks might be permanent. He might have to count his lucky stars that he decided to come in today of all days, and he’ll have to remember to drop off some soup and cough drops at Hitoshi’s as a get well soon slash thank you for getting sick present.

“I think I like the head,” Izuku says.

“Me too,” he nods, and then it’s back to business. He grabs a second, clean sheet of paper and taps it a few times in thought before he resumes drawing. “I’m gonna draw a few samples. This might take a while, if you’d be more comfortable on the couch. Those stools suck.”

Izuku bites his lip, eyes locked on the page so that he doesn’t have to look at him when he asks. “Do you mind if I watch? Or will that mess you up?”

“Oh sure! I don’t mind at all! Then you can tell me if I do anything you’re not into.”

Izuku doubts that’ll happen.

Kirishima draws a long oval on the left side of the page and two skinnier ovals at the top and frowns.

“That looks like the Playboy bunny,” he mumbles, unsatisfied. Izuku snorts. “That’s not what you’re going for, right?”

“No thank you,” he laughs.

“Didn’t think so.”

He tries again on the opposite side of the page, and Izuku watches quietly as a circle and a triangle become the melded form of a rabbit head before him.

His heart starts to race as he realizes that this is the foundation for his tattoo. A drawing born from this sketch will be permanently engraved on his body for the rest of his life.

He likes it.

Kirishima’s fingernails are painted red. He likes that too.

He falls into this sort of comfortable, mindless state as he watches Kirishima draw, forgetting that this isn’t someone he knows or is close to. They’re not friends, and he already made a fool of himself twice today, but Izuku is as relaxed as he could be. He can see how people like getting these so much.

Kirishima turns the page towards him and sits up to stretch. “What do you think?”

It’s just a sketch, but Izuku loves it. It feels like the portrait of a guardian deity, his own maybe, but it’s not so aggressive that he thinks it belongs on somebody else. It’s exactly what he wants.

“It’s perfect.”

“Nice! Is this what you wanna go with then?”

“I think so, yes,” he nods. He really can’t see getting anything else right now, but it feels so eager to say.

“Sweet, I’m gonna need like a few days to draw up some options for you, so if you’re sure, we can go ahead and make you an appointment and get you squared away!”

“Right,” he heart pounds with nerves because he’s really about to do this. “Is next week okay? I traded my day off to come here.”

“Yeah, dude, totally. Wednesday at one good, or do you want a later slot?”

“Wednesday is great.”

“If you wanna leave your notebooks and stuff with me so I can get some more ideas, I’ll take good care of ‘em.”

“Is that normal,” Izuku blinks. “For people to do, I mean.”

“Yes,” he smiles.

“Oh, okay then.”

Kirishima grabs one of the business cards off of a stack on the counter and flips it over to the back before writing some stuff down. “Here’s our shop info. I just started here so I don’t have my own cards printed out yet, sorry, but if you need to cancel or reschedule, just call the shop number on the front or send us an email. I put our appointment date and time on the back in case you forget. I always panic about that kind of stuff, haha, anyways if you have any questions or anything, one of us will be sure to help you out. Hitoshi should be back next week anyway, so he’ll probably stick his head in to check on ya, but I’d say you’re in good hands.”

He smiles warmly as he hands over the business card. He also included his name on the back, which Izuku appreciates because he would hate to forget it.

“Thanks, Kirishima.”

“Eijirou,” he corrects.

“Eijirou.”



Izuku: I’M DOING IT

Shouto: what

Izuku: I’M GETTING A TATTOO!!!!!

Shouto: congratulations 

Shouto: do you need me to come hold your hand

Izuku: 😠 no i can handle this by myself

Shouto: i’m very supportive 

Izuku: i know you are but i’m not even nervous

Shouto: 🤨 

Izuku: i’m not!!! it’s going to look so cool you’re gonna be so jealous

Shouto: i’m already planning a skin heist

Izuku: … what does that mean

Shouto: 🔪 

Izuku: 😟 ?

Shouto: 😇 



The next week is absolutely nerve wracking.

Izuku tries to not think about his upcoming appointment too much, but he dreams about getting tattooed almost every night. What’s worse is that it’s not even a vague dream where he sits in a chair and has his sleeve pushed up by some gray blob like he’s about to get vaccinated. It’s just mostly him staring at Eijirou’s face the whole time while he draws but on his skin this time.

He would let him, if he wanted. Draw on him, he means. He could cover Izuku’s untattooed skin with colorful marker strokes to his heart’s content, if that was something that might interest him. 

He wouldn’t mind at all. He would sit very still.

He pinches himself as he walks into the shop, not wanting to lose his head to his Crayola whims before they even get started. 

There’s music this time, and a few other people inside. Hitoshi is on the couch with his signature coffee cup, trying to come back to life no doubt. There’s a woman talking to a different artist, he assumes, at the counter about making an appointment, so Izuku sits next to Hitoshi to wait.

“Are you feeling better?”

Hitoshi nods. “You nervous?”

“A little bit.”

“You’ll be fine. Eijirou knows what he’s doing.”

“Was that a compliment?” Eijirou teases as he walks around from one of the booths in the back. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I give them sparingly,” he says, standing to his feet. “Sorry, Izuku, I’ve got a customer coming in in ten.”

“No problem!” Izuku says to Hitoshi before looking up at Eijirou, who seems to be waiting for him. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yep! Come on back. I’ve got a few samples ready I think you’ll like.”

“Great,” he breathes as he pushes himself up to his feet. He follows Eijirou behind the counter, taking note of the different rooms that belong to each artist. It’s nice that they each have their own space to work in, he thinks. It already makes him feel a little more comfortable that he’ll be in Eijirou’s little bubble and not somewhere that feels like a hospital examination room for this.

He also notices the glaring height difference. Izuku wouldn’t call himself short, but he’s used to some of his friends being just out of reach, but behind Eijirou, he really feels like he missed out in the leg department. He’s probably not that much taller than Shouto, but there’s something about him that just makes Izuku feel shy about it.

“Right in here, please,” he says, stopping at the last booth. He props his arm on the doorway, and Izuku slips by him, careful not to accidentally touch Eijirou going in. “Have a seat, I’ll grab the samples.”

“Great,” Izuku says hopefully, under his breath. He’s seen these big black chairs online before, half normal seat and half massage table. It’s for his comfort, he knows, but the idea of sitting on it is almost intimidating.

You don’t belong here, his brain says. You’re not one of them. But then he sees the pile of rabbit drawings on Eijirou’s desk, and he thinks that maybe he does. This is his start, right? He’s earned his chance to sit in the chair.

“This is the original,” Eijirou says, presenting a cleaned up rabbit head with his signature bold linework. Izuku’s stomach tingles. “I also drew up some others because it turns out drawing rabbits is a lot of fun, haha. Sorry, got a little carried away.”

He hands Izuku a stack of paper cutouts with different rabbits on them. Some look happy and playful and some look dark and occultish. He loves them all.

But then there’s the last one.

It’s bigger than the others, but that’s because the drawing extends out with two antlers coming out of the animal’s face, like a young deer not quite old enough to earn his rack. Or maybe a dryad hiding in the forest behind the disguise of a small bunny.

Small vines twist around the antlers with the tiniest flower buds barely able to bloom. A Guardian of the Forest.

“Oh wow,” he gasps. 

“Yeah, sorry, it’s not really right for a Cleric, but I just–, okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but dude you are like really, really green.”

“What?” Izuku barks a laugh.

“It’s a compliment, I swear! But you’re like a green little forest elf who plays D&D and likes rabbits, what can I say? I was inspired.”

Izuku flushes and looks down at the drawing. So this is how he sees him. This is a stranger’s perception of him based on one conversation and a stack of notebooks.

He likes it a whole lot more than he thought he would. He likes this one the most, actually.

Izuku holds up the page between his fingers. “Let’s do this one then.”

“Sweet! Let me go back some transfers. Actually, while I’m doing that, be thinking of some colors you’re into.”

“Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Is it okay if you take care of those? I trust your opinion, you know what you’re doing more than I do.”

Eijirou laughs. “Be careful, dude, I may get carried away again and slap a rainbow on your back.”

“That would be fine,” Izuku says brightly. It might not be, but he doesn’t know if he could ever actually dislike any of Eijirou’s ideas. This might be a problem.

Eijirou leaves to get his transfers ready, and Izuku waits patiently in the big scary tattoo chair. This still feels like a strange doctor’s appointment, but instead of a tongue compress, he’s in for one hell of a new experience. Oh well, at least his artist is nice. And nice to look at. Not that it matters.

It absolutely does not matter.

He comes back, and Izuku is almost guilty for thinking about him in a way that isn’t strictly professional. Not that he was thinking about anything that would be considered harassment, but this is still a business. This is the guy’s job! He doesn’t need his client musing to himself over how attractive and nice he is!

Well, if he was a florist, you would still have the same thoughts, and then you’d buy your flowers and go home like a normal person.

Right, he’s allowed to admit to himself if he enjoys a person. As long as he doesn’t say or do anything creepy, it’s fine. Who doesn’t go and get themselves a crush on a stranger every now and then anyway? Eijirou might even be flattered!

“Izuku,” he says.

Izuku almost jumps off of his seat in shock. Did he do it again? Did he say that out loud?

Oh please, no, no, no!

“Would you mind going ahead and taking off your shirt?”

“What?”

“For your tattoo,” he blinks. “Or did you want it somewhere else?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Izuku laughs. He doesn’t mention that he’s nervous, but Eijirou probably doesn’t need him to.

He pulls his shirt over his head and folds it neatly in his lap, thankful he worked out last night.

“You ate before coming?”

“What?” Izuku asks, wondering if he’s bloated. He folds his arms over himself just in case.

“You gotta eat before you get tattooed,” Eijirou says. “I probably should've mentioned it last week, but I didn’t think about it.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t pass out. Yeah, yeah, I know you’re a tough guy and all that, but it can happen to anyone, and I don’t want your first time to be the worst time, you know? Especially when you’re in my chair.”

“Oh,” he relaxes. “Yeah, I ate before I came.”

“Cool,” he says. “Stand up for me?”

Izuku stands up to his feet, still clutching his shirt in his hands. This really does feel like a medical examination. Eijirou tells him he can put it in the cubby at the end of his station, and when Izuku comes back, Eijirou is holding a disposable razor in his hands.

He touches Izuku by the shoulder and turns him so he can get to his back, and then he starts shaving his shoulder.

“Is my back hairy?!” Izuku screeches.

“No,” he laughs. “Gotta get the tiny little fuzzy pieces because bacteria can cling to them. But it would be fine if it was.”

“Oh,” he swallows. “I didn’t know that.”

“S’okay,” he says cheerfully. “I said I’d take care of you, right? Can’t have your buddy Hitoshi finding out I skipped any steps. Dude might get mad and glare at me.”

Izuku snorts. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Are you two close?”

“Ah, not really.”

“Oh?”

It would make sense that they would appear to be that way from the outside, considering Izuku was originally planning to get tattooed by him.

“We went to school together,” Izuku explains. “We sat together in a few of our classes. He drew, I took good notes.”

“You do take good notes.”

Izuku winces. He can’t believe he subjected a stranger to his, well, his notebooks. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s awesome,” he says. “Wish my brain was that wrinkly.”

He can’t help but smile to himself at the compliment, endeared and a little shy. He really is one of the nicest people Izuku has ever met, and he’s happy to have met him. “I wish I was as creative as you are.”

Eijirou hums, pleased, and then he presses something cold on Izuku’s back without much of a warning. He grabs them two mirrors, and shows Izuku the reflection of the stencil on his back. “What do you think?”

Izuku’s heart pounds. This is really going to be his tattoo. After today, it’s going to be there forever, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that this tattoo belongs there. Even if there’s no real meaning behind it, and it wasn’t anything he had in mind when he first came into the shop, it’s him.

“I love it.”

“Are you fine with the size and placement?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he says. “You’re a really good artist, Eijirou.”

“Thank you! Let’s get this bad boy on ya for real, eh?”

Izuku nods once in determination. He’s ready.

Eijirou wipes down the chair for him with a disinfectant, and then once it dries, he has Izuku straddle it so he can tattoo his back. 

Izuku sits up to watch him get set up. He sets out a row of tiny paper cups and fills them with an array of brightly colored pigments and a few with just solid black. He then puts a few needle packages down next to them, and Izuku swallows.

“Any questions?” Eijirou asks as he rakes his hair back into a ponytail out of his face, not once breaking eye contact as he does. It’s… nice, Izuku thinks.

“Is this going to hurt?”

“Ahhh, not really! I mean it really depends on your pain tolerance, but it’s more annoying than anything, like, you are not going to like me very much in a little bit.”

“I don’t see that happening.”

Eijirou makes a surprised face.

“I mean, I have a high pain tolerance,” he offers quietly. “Broke a lot of bones when I was kid.”

“Oh man,” he frowns. “That’s not good.”

“It’s fine! Long time ago, right?”

“Right,” he nods. He pulls on a new set of latex gloves with a snap and grabs his machine. With a tap of his foot, it whirs, and it’s the most heart stopping sound Izuku has ever heard. Loud and angry, the needle darts faster than the eye can see, and even if he knows this is something he can handle, he can’t help but turn away. “Okay, I’m gonna start on one of the lines. Tell me if you can’t take it, okay?”

“Okay,” he swallows.

 

Eijirou wasn’t kidding when he said that the feeling of a tattoo is annoying. It burns like a hot iron, stings like a bad ant bite, and aches down to his bones all at the same time. It’s nothing too terrible, but every so often when Eijirou gets into a groove, it grinds down into Izuku’s teeth, and all Izuku can do is try his best to tune it out.

But that rumor about the needles being the worst part was obviously started by someone who has never actually been tattooed before, becauae what no one felt inclined to mention to him—Eijirou and Hitoshi included—was that fucking paper towel.

Every so often when the area he’s tattooing becomes saturated with droplets of blood and pigment smears, Eijirou scrapes it away like he’s been personally tasked with punishing Izuku for being born with skin. 

“I know, hon’, I’m sorry,” Eijirou says after a particularly pathetic whimper escapes out of Izuku’s mouth. “It’s almost over.”

“It’s fine,” he forces.

“You’re doing so well.”

The compliment wasn’t meant to make Izuku blush, but the warmth in his cheeks does an excellent job of distracting him long enough for Eijirou to finish shading the part he’s working on. 

And it’s the last part. 

Eijirou sets his machine down and stretches. It’s finally over.

Now Izuku is raw, tired, a little sore, and he is most importantly, tattooed.

“That it?” Izuku asks hopefully.

“That’s it! You ready to see it?”

Izuku covers his face with his hands and makes a small excited noise. “I don’t know if I can look.”

“I think I did a bang up job, if I do say so myself,” he says, sitting back with a smirk. “Come on, I’m gonna have to wrap you up soon.”

Izuku follows him to the body length mirror outside of the booth and turns around. He angles the hand mirror until he can see himself, and once he does, he gasps.

“It’s gonna be red and swollen for a while,” Eijirou says. “That’s normal, but in a few days you’ll be able to really get a feel for what it looks like.”

“Oh my god, I love it. It’s so cool!”

“Think so?” 

“Yeah! It’s really on me!”

“Yeah it is,” he laughs. “There for life!”

“Thanks, Eijirou!”

“Oh you guys finished,” Hitoshi asks, sticking his head out from inside his own booth. “Let me see.”

Izuku turns his back to him to show off his new awesome tattoo, and Hitoshi nods in approval.

“Nice work, Red.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“Never seen a green rabbit before,” he says, inspecting Eijirou’s work. “Nice choice.”

“Thank ya, thank ya.”

“Green?” Izuku asks, turning so he can see.

“Ah yeah, it’s kinda hard to tell since it’s still angry, but I tried to match the mid-tones to your hair because I like the color, but I went with like an opaly pink and blue thing for the eyes instead because I thought those colors would work with the green for some contrast. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great! I love it, I really do!” Izuku beams. Eijirou folds his arms across his chest, holding back a proud smile.

“I can’t be around you two anymore,” Hitoshi says flatly before turning around and leaving to go back to work. Izuku and Eijirou look at each other, but neither have a clue as to what he meant by it. Maybe he’s still not feeling well.

With that, they return to Eijirou’s booth. He cleans up the finished tattoo for him and finishes by taping on a piece of plastic wrap to his back.

“Here is a list of aftercare instructions,” he says before handing him a piece of paper from a nearby file holder. “Make sure you don’t skip any steps so it can heal good for me, okay? That’s some of my best work right there.”

“You can count on me,” Izuku smiles brightly. He grabs his shirt and pulls it on over his head, wincing at the uncomfortable way it slides over the tattoo. He wonders how long it’ll take before that stops bothering him.

It’s time to pay and leave, but Izuku can’t help but feel like just paying for it isn’t enough. He loves this tattoo. He feels like he owes him more than just money to really show him his appreciation, but what can he give him? Lunch?

Well sure, he can very much offer to buy him lunch. Anything he wants. He took care of Izuku so it’s only right that he return the favor. That’s exactly what he’ll do.

“Eijirou, food’s here,” a different artist says. Oh.

Never mind.

“Alright, you should be set!”

Izuku forces himself to look as cheerful as he can. “Thanks so much!”

“Feel free to come back for your next one!”

“Yeah,” he swallows. “Will do.”

So that’s it then. This little adventure is already over. He tries his best to not look too disappointed, but it sucks that his bittersweet, one-sided, melancholic goodbye is perfumed with french fries.

Oh well.

This is what Izuku gets for getting a crush on a nice stranger, but that happens all the time, doesn’t it? These kinds of things are meant to be fleeting. It’s just unfortunate because Eijirou is kind of perfect and Izuku wouldn’t mind being around him all the time.

His friends are lucky, he thinks. Izuku was lucky enough to be a client.

The rabbit on his back throbs and tells him that it’s time to walk home. He can’t believe he really went through with it and got his first tattoo. He can’t believe he loves it this much. After all that worrying and overthinking about regret and meaning, it turns out Hitoshi was right. It absolutely did not matter.



Izuku gets home a few hours before Shouto does, and it’s not long after Shouto walks through the door that Izuku hands him the sheet of instructions like his life depends on it.

“Will you be my aftercare buddy?”

Shouto takes the paper and gives it a careful look over with a small nod. “I can do this.”

Good, Izuku was worried about trying to get it cleaned and covered in ointment by himself because he picked such a difficult spot, and he doesn’t want to do anything wrong because he can’t see or reach the tattoo that well. Eijirou seemed proud of his work, it would be a shame to ruin it.

“So does this mean you went through with it?”

“Yep! Do you wanna see?” Shouto nods, and Izuku takes off his shirt, not nearly as shy about this in front of his best friend and neighbor as he was in front of his tattoo artist. He turns around and watches from over his shoulder. “Do you mind? Oh, it might be a little gross right now, but I promise it’s good.”

Shouto carefully peels back the tape so that he doesn’t touch the skin and makes a small surprised sound. “You really got a tattoo.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” he says genuinely before his face twists into something curious. “Who did this? Was it Shinsou?”

Izuku may have made Shouto look at Hitoshi's portfolio fifteen hundred times with him before he actually committed to anything. He may have known better than to try to shop for different artists, but that doesn’t mean his decision to go with Hitoshi wasn’t all or nothing. He probably spent two years with Shouto’s help trying to decide if even his own friend was the right choice.

It would make sense that Shouto wasn’t expecting ti find a bright green rabbit on his back.

“No,” Izuku squeaks. “He, uhh, wasn’t there.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you had a backup.”

Izuku winces and turns around to face him. “I didn’t, it was kind of an impulse decision.”

Shouto blinks. “You can’t make those.”

“Do you like it,” he smiles sheepishly.

This man is part fox, part cat, and part bloodhound. Izuku is screwed.

“Yeah, who did it?”

“Ahh, just some guy at the shop, you know,” Izuku laughs and waves him off casually.

“What was his name?”

“Uhhh, Kirishima something something, I don’t know. You know how it is.”

“No, I don’t know how it is,” Shouto says. Uh oh. “Hmmmmm…”

“What,” Izuku asks, horrified. What is this demon up to? 

Shouto takes his phone out of his pocket and gets to work. Izuku really wishes he wouldn’t. “The shop probably follows him if he works there, right?”

“Wait, no.”

“Good, it’s linked in Shinsou’s bio.”

“Shouto!” Izuku cries out. 

Shouto walks away with his phone angled above his head just high enough that Izuku can’t snatch it away without kicking out one of his knees. It may have to come to that. “Hmmm, redxriot. That’s interesting.”

“Wait!”

“Oh he’s cute,” he says with a small smirk. “I can see why you picked him.”

“It’s not like that,” Izuku says, red faced. “I really liked his work!”

“You must have. You didn’t even ask for a second or third opinion.”

“It’s a good tattoo, isn’t it!”

“It’s a great tattoo,” he nods. “Wonder if he’s single.”

Izuku makes a face.

“Not for me,” he adds. “Obviously.”

“I need you and Kacchan to stop avoiding each other so we can be in laws again.”

“You’re not related to either of us for that to be possible, and I’m not avoiding him, he’s avoiding me.”

Izuku groans and makes a pained face. He guesses this means if he wants to see Bakugou and show him what he got, he’ll have to go all the way to his place so that they don’t see each other. 

One day, these two will admit that they’re in love with each other, but until then, Izuku will continue to suffer as the single child of two warring divorced parents.

This feels ominous.

Chapter Text

Sleep is a challenge Izuku didn’t at all anticipate when going into this whole first tattoo business. 

He can’t lay on his back because he doesn’t want to get whatever suspicious Izuku goop is leaking out of his new tattoo on his bedsheets (he googled it, it’s normal), never mind the fact that it would probably hurt if he tried to.

He ends up on his side, careful not to crease the skin, but the distant throb and the itch both make it impossible for him to relax.

So this is what the next few nights are going to look like, he imagines.

But all he has to do is wait himself out long enough that he finally just gives in to the exhaustion, and for that, his phone becomes his new best friend. 

He swipes through a dozen different apps and websites to distract himself, cycling through them so fast he barely has a chance to register any of the content he’s consumed in the last hour, but the one app he keeps finding himself on the most is Instagram.

And that’s the most tempting one of all.

He’s fine, he thinks. As long as he sticks to his own timeline, checks his friends’ stories as they pop up, and maybe, maybe ventures over to his for you page, he’s in the clear. He’s not doing anything wrong by looking at selfies and food pics and vacation photos.

He’s not snooping.

He’s not crossing any lines.

Izuku lets his wandering thumb take him to Hitoshi’s page. They’re friends. They’re been friends for years. Izuku being on his personal page is not at all illegal or frowned upon.

He taps a like on his latest cat update as a payment for the crime he’s about to commit, but in his defense, if Shouto hadn’t done it first, he would have never known he could do this in the first place.

He clicks on the shop link in Hitoshi’s bio. The posts are all advertisements for their artists, special promotions, and some fun little shop photos that Izuku will have to browse through later after he’s done being terrible. He does hit follow on the page, though, as an offering.

Thank you for giving me an easy path towards my own degeneration. 

Izuku goes to the shop following list and holds his breath. There’s nothing wrong with looking at a list of usernames. It’s just data. It’s practically public information.

And then he exhales.

It’s just a little peek.

Izuku clicks on redxriot’s username and goes to his page. Upon first glance, most of the pictures are a scattered mix of tattoos, interesting things he must have seen around here and there, and a few photos of friends that feel too private for Izuku to look at. He doesn’t have a lot of pictures of himself, Izuku notices, focusing more on the world around him, but this is definitely Eijirou.

There’s no doubt about it.

He scrolls through the grid, getting a small glimpse into Eijirou’s life outside of the shop, and it’s almost exciting , snooping and creeping around like this. It might be the worst thing he’s ever done, and one wrong tap of his finger and he’s going to social jail for the rest of his life, but he’s already gone this far…

No, this is wrong. He can’t intrude on him like this, it isn’t right. He closes the app and turns his phone over onto the covers and closes his eyes.

He cannot let his teeny tiny little one day crush turn him into a stalker. 

Izuku is better than that.

He whines into his pillow.

Maybe he isn’t.




Two itchy days later, Izuku is on his way up to his apartment after a long, exhausting work day. The week is over finally, and it turns out he had some extra vacation time—because Izuku has never actually used any of his vacation time before—so he doesn’t have to come into the office tomorrow to make up for his tattoo adventure.

And he couldn’t be happier.

His evening is a blank slate, but that just makes it the perfect night to do nothing more than maybe watch a movie and go to bed early like the tired old man he’s become. The prospect puts an immediate pep in his step.

Finally a chance to unwind.

He wonders if Eijirou likes movies and if he goes to bed early on Friday nights or not.

No, doofus, he works all night. And it’s none of your business if he likes movies or not.

But if he does, Izuku wonders what kind of movies he likes. Probably something exciting, he thinks. He seems like the kind of guy who would like action movies, but he’s so funny and cheerful, he might like comedies instead. Izuku could probably watch anything with him, maybe. Horror movies might take some convincing, but never a flat no. Romance seems too dangerous.

They could sit close to each other, maybe. Wouldn’t that be nice?

His chest aches a little because there are too many nevers and no ways that have to come after every thought, but what’s the harm in just thinking about it? He’s not wrong here to think that Eijirou would be nice to watch a movie with. That statement applies to pretty much everyone in the whole universe.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Izuku is saved from his miserable movie watching fantasies by the familiar chime of the phone in his pocket. The sender’s name gives him a mix of excitement and dread, because on one hand, he wants to see him, and on the other, he is apparently still at war with Shouto.

Kacchan: oi bring ice and beer over my house is full of losers

Izuku does not comment that no part of that message is a request.

Izuku: are you having a party? o.o

Kacchan: nah just a bunch of stray mutts decided to take over and if i make a run to the store they’re gonna break my shit

Izuku: got it no problem ^_^ I’m on my way!

Kacchan: fucking turn off auto correct, grandpa

Izuku: no <3

Kacchan: the asshole is not invited btw

Izuku: i thought no one was invited :)

Kacchan: they weren’t but he can stay his ass at home specifically

Izuku: kacchan….

Kacchan: I’M SERIOUS NERD 

Kacchan: i don’t wanna see his stupid face tonight he’s gonna piss me the fuck off

Izuku: he’s not even home

Kacchan: the fuck you mean he’s not home where is he???

Kacchan: it’s a friday night tf does he think he’s doing????

Kacchan: IS THAT ASSHOLE GOING OUT WITH SOMEBODY ELSE

Kacchan: DEKU I SWEAR TO GOD

Izuku: he’s at his mom’s….. 

Kacchan: oh

Izuku: you’d know that if you’d…. :))))

Kacchan: oh fuck off i’m not calling that bastard until he apologizes 

Izuku: what did he do o.o

Kacchan: NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS THAT’S WHAT

Kacchan: YOU BRINGING THE ICE OR WHAT?

Izuku: yes yes i’m coming fret not dearest kacchan i shan't be late with your refreshments 

Kacchan: [img attached]

Izuku: HEY

Kacchan: AND I MEANT IT

Izuku closes his eyes and exhales. He was so close. He was literally one quick sprint away from his own apartment, and now he has to turn back around and run to the store. To grab ice and beer for a party he doesn’t even want to go to. 

But it’s for Bakugou, and he loves Bakugou, and until his two best friends kiss and make up again, he’s not going to get to see him nearly as much as he would like to, so Izuku turns around and prepares himself for a long night of social stimulation.

He technically never said he had to stay anyway.

 

Izuku grabs a bag of ice, two cases of beer, a box of mini-doughnuts that looks like it could feed a crowd, and hopes for the best. He parks as close to Bakugou’s house as he can get and walks while completing the most impressive (and dangerous) beer balancing act the world has ever seen. A smarter man might have made two trips, but Izuku would rather give his armpit freezer burn than let that happen.

Maybe he spends too much time with Bakugou and Shouto for his own good…

He shakes his head and kicks the base of the door to knock before nudging the bell with the tip of his nose and prays that someone will hear him and come let him in before he drops something.

The door opens, and to his surprise, it’s one of Bakugou’s college friends, and Izuku sighs in relief.

“Midoriya!” Denki cheers. “Glad you could drop by!”

He frees Izuku from his bag of ice and box of doughnuts and leads him into the house.

“Thanks,” Izuku says. “That ice was cold.”

Denki laughs. “Ice is like that, I guess.”

Izuku hears the noise from the inside of the rest of the house and feels himself sweat. “Are you guys… having a party?”

“Nah, just a quiet little get together,” Denki assures him, punctuated by the sound of glass shattering and Bakugou screeching at the top of his lungs. “Or something.”

“Got it,” he laughs. “Guess I’ll put these up then head out then?”

“No, dude, stay! We haven’t seen you in ages!”

Izuku nods, apologetic. “Work sucks.”

“Ain’t it the truth.”

Izuku squats down in front of the refrigerator and tucks the bottles away wherever he can find a place for them between the pizza boxes and protein shakes he didn’t know Bakugou drinks. It’s like a fun little game of beer Tetris, and he’s really glad that none of his friends are secretly mind readers to know he’s thinking that.

As soon as he’s finished, he stands up to his feet and considers sneaking a couple of doughnuts out before anyone notices he brought them.

“Man, I’m so glad you came! It feels like the gang’s all here again!” Denki says before smacking his palm flat against Izuku’s shoulder in the spirit of camaraderie. Izuku’s eyes fly open, and he grabs the countertops, yelping through his teeth in pain as the burn soaks deep into his muscles. That did not feel good. “Whoa, dude, are you okay? I didn’t think I hit you that hard.”

“No,” it’s fine, he turns around, sheepish and sore. “I just have an, umm, new tattoo there.”

“Tattoo?!” Denki shouts, and Izuku tries to hush him before anyone else hears, but his attempts go unnoticed. “Hey guys, get in here! Deku’s got a tattoo!”

Izuku’s whole body sags in defeat, and he drops his face into his palms. Now everyone is going to know what he’s done and make a big deal about it, and he didn’t even get to privately show Bakugou yet. And when he finds out that Shouto not only got to see it first, but has been helping Izuku take care of it, he’s going to consider that Izuku taking sides, which Izuku would never do.

A thunder of hooves through the house marks the sound of the rest of the guests rushing their way into the kitchen to see what Denki is shouting about, and Izuku is just a poor, defenseless creature cornered next to the rice cooker.

Like a rabbit, he thinks.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Bakugou says, elbowing Hanta out of the way. “Deku doesn’t have a tattoo.”

“He does! It’s right there,” Denki says, spinning Izuku around to point at his back. “Sorry, dude I’m not about to strip him down for you, but I swear, Deku got inked.”

“I was planning to tell you,” Izuku pleads over his shoulder to Bakugou and therefore the rest of the group behind him, but then he sees red and all of his thoughts erase themselves from his mind. Izuku’s mouth falls open as he looks up at the person who shouldn’t be here, and all of the panic from before drains out of him, replacing itself with a new, shinier kind of panic. “I got it a few days ago.”

“Oh hey,” Eijirou laughs. “I did that.”

Everyone turns to him, flabbergasted, and he looks at them all, confused.

“I mean, I tattooed him.”

A few resounding oh’s float around once everyone realizes what he meant. Izuku wishes that did anything to help him relax.

“It’s a good tattoo,” Izuku flashes an awkward smile to Bakugou who then marches over, turns Izuku to face the group and then wrangles him so he can look down the collar of his shirt himself. Izuku closes his eyes and prays. For what, he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, fine,” he says, content. “At least you had the sense to go to this idiot and not some cheap ass back alley butcher.”

“You know each other?”

“Yeah, I’m staying on Katsuki’s couch until my apartment is free,” Eijirou says. 

Izuku looks at them both, speechless. Bakugou letting someone stay at his house for more than twenty four hours without killing them? Without griping to Izuku about it? Without being even mildly passive aggressive about it now?

He knows Eijirou’s nice, but he’s not immune.

“We were… roommates… in college,” Eijirou adds carefully. “If that answers any of those questions.”

“Fucker,” Bakugou mutters.

“Sorry, Kacchan.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffs and opens his refrigerator to grab a beer. Izuku winces.

“I mean kinda,” Denki mumbles.

“Wait a minute,” Izuku whips his head around. “Roommate?! I was at his place all the time! I never saw a roommate?!”

“Oh, I was never home,” Eijirou says. “Classes, work, apprenticeship, you know, and my hair was black back then, and I was short, and I didn’t, like, have any tattoos or anything. Plus it’s been, like, years, so even if you did see me back then, you probably wouldn’t remember me, which is totally fine, by the way.”

“Oh,” Izuku blinks. “Wait, short?!”

Aren’t people supposed to stop growing before college?

“Yeah, shithead pissed me the fuck off for that,” Bakugou says. “Do you two need us to give you some alone time, or are we all caught up here.”

“We’re good,” Izuku flushes. “Sorry.”

“So do the rest of us get to see it or is this Kacchan only privileges,” Denki asks.

“It’s not healed yet, but I don’t mind,” Izuku laughs nervously. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this, if he ever did it at all, but these are their friends. It’s fine. They can look at his super secret pseudo-Clark Kent office nerd tattoo before he’s ready. It’s fine. 

They move into the living room so everyone can gather around and see. Izuku carefully pulls up his shirt from the back with Bakugou helping hold the material up over the still raw tattoo, and he looks at them from over his shoulder, a little bashful to be watched like this.

“Please don’t touch it,” he says.

Based on the oohing and ahhing behind him, his tattoo seems to have the group approval, which makes him a little proud, considering the guy who drew it is standing just a few feet away. Like somehow Izuku is worthy of having it.

“Looks like it’s healing well,” Eijirou muses. “You must be following those instructions I gave you, huh.”

“Oh I never skip a step,” Izuku says sincerely.

“Fuckin’ nerd,” Bakugou says, still pinching back his shirt for him. “So you idiots done looking, or do I have to stand here all day?”

Izuku doesn’t say enough how much he appreciates him.

Okay, that might not be true, but he does appreciate him more than words can say, even if he does tell him all the time, but right now he’s just grateful that Bakugou literally got everyone off of his back for him without Izuku having to ask.

Who else could scare off a whole room full of nosy onlookers with only one question?

Well almost the whole room.

“So I take it you’re happy with it?” Eijirou asks, his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, almost nervous and almost hopeful.

“I love it! It itches though,” Izuku frowns. “A lot.”

“Yeah, you get used to it.”

“Do you?”

“Nah, but it’ll stop itching, and then when you get your next one, you can get mad at me twice.”

“Next one?” Izuku raises his eyebrows. A second tattoo was never anything he had considered before. He spent so much time preparing for his big life changing secret that he didn’t stop to think that maybe he might want to do it all over again. Would it take him another three years to commit to a second? Would he need more notebooks?

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he waves. “It’s just most people get hooked after they get their first one, you know? You totally don’t have to get any more, and you definitely don’t have to come to me, I was just kidding.”

Izuku puts his head in his hands. “I don’t even know how to get another one.”

“No worries,” Eijirou laughs. “But you’re a pro now, so if you decide to go back, you’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” he says, the tips of his ears warming to a treacherous pink. “I had a good teacher.”

Eijirou sucks his teeth and looks off with the slightest wrinkle of his nose. He has a nice profile, Izuku thinks. Sharp, but his personality makes him seem so soft to the touch. Kind of reminds him of Shouto if Shouto could smile with his face muscles.

They would get along in a sun and moon kind of way. Izuku has always liked looking at eclipses, even if he’s not supposed to.

“Oh!” Eijirou says suddenly and walks over to the couch. “Can I show you something?”

“Oh, sure,” Izuku blinks.

Eijirou pats the cushion next to him before turning to dig through a backpack on the ground next to him. He pulls out a sketchbook and opens it to a familiar set of rabbits.

“I kind of went crazy over the last week,” he says with a bright smile. “I had to go run to the store and get a new book, and pencils, and everything, but I’ve just been so inspired, you know? I mean it started with your rabbits, and oh man, do I love drawing rabbits apparently, but then I kind of got really into it and went full magical forest friends. I did these last night. Deer, bears, birds, the gang’s all here, but don’t worry, no one is ever gonna get tattoos of these or anything. This is a hundred percent you, I’ve just been entertaining myself and keeping the ole’ engine fired up while work is slow, you know?”

Izuku looks down at the pages in awe, a small gasp on his lips. All of this because of his one rabbit tattoo?

“Here,” he says and puts the book on Izuku’s lap. “Call it my Izuku book.”

Izuku looks at him with wide eyes. No one’s ever had a special notebook just for him before. He doesn’t have the words to say what that means to him, even if it doesn’t mean anything. “These are amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly, and Izuku has to look back at the sketchbook to keep from getting overwhelmed.

They really are amazing. Magical rabbits with vines and leaves swirling around them, deer walking on water with trails of frost under their hooves, big fluffy bears wielding spears and swords, chipmunks hunkered over tomes and scrolls. He really made his own magical kingdom of the forest in just a few days.

Izuku stops on a sparrow with a crown of gold and purple tips to his wings and sucks in a breath. He would rip out the page and run if he could get away with it.

“I love them so much,” he says, soft and reverent. “You’re so talented, Eijirou.”

“Thank you, they were good practice,” he says, humble for absolutely no reason at all. “The next few pages are just trees and mushrooms and like other foresty plant things, but the critters are my favorite.”

“The critters,” Izuku repeats fondly.

“Oh,” he jumps up. “Do you want something to drink? You got ambushed before you could settle in, right?”

“Thanks, but I have to drive back soon,” he admits. No party for him tonight. 

“Water then?”

Izuku shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Oh you really don’t have to, please. You’re the guest here, not me. Kacchan would yell at both of us.”

Eijirou makes a face.

“Water would be great,” he concedes. He’s right, Bakugou will find something else to yell about even if he doesn’t get him a glass of water.

As soon as Eijirou leaves the room, Izuku clutches his chest and doubles over, his poor heart beating too loudly in his chest. 

Why is he here? How is his cute and wonderful tattoo artist here of all places at all times? How could Bakugou know his tattoo artist of all people? When did they become friends? Have they stayed in touch this whole time? How does Bakugou have friends Izuku doesn’t know about, and how did Bakugou live with someone without Izuku knowing about it? Sure Izuku knew he had a roommate, but he was never home, and he kept his door closed, so Izuku just thought he and Bakugou didn’t get along, but Bakugou is fine with him staying in his house? Bakugou hates having people in his house. And why didn’t Bakugou tell him his old college roommate was staying with him? They talk about everything, or at least he thought they did. And did Eijirou know who Izuku was this whole time? Did he just not say anything because he was being professional? Or polite or something? He saw all of his notebooks… he knows all of his inner thoughts and anything Bakugou might have told him… 

Oh no.

“Here you go,” Eijirou chimes as he walks through the door. Izuku tenses in surprise and accepts the glass of water from him. “And no, I did not know who you were or I would have said something. Or offered you a discount.”

“Oh,” Izuku flushes. So he heard that, huh. “I mean you wouldn’t have had to do that…”

“Please, Deku gets special treatment. Them’s the rules,” he says, and Izuku makes a face before he realizes he’s joking. “Heard a lot about you, though. Katsuki never uses your real name so I had no idea, sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” he insists. “Kacchan only used my real name for like a month back when we were in high school, and it kind of weirded us both out too much to keep it up.”

“Kacchan, huh?”

Izuku swallows. “… yeah.”

Old habits are hard to break.

“You seem closer than I realized,” he says calmly.

“Yeah, we grew up together,” Izuku says. “Same playpen and everything.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome,” Eijirou’s eyes widen. “So you…”

Izuku closes his eyes and nods sagely. “Have been trying very hard to get him and my other best friend back together before the end of the year.”

“Oh.”

“I’m kind of invested in their endgame,” he says with a shy smile.

“Got it,” he nods. “What are they fighting about?”

“I don’t know, they won’t tell me.”

Eijrou throws his head back and laughs, a musical sound that Izuku could listen to all night, and when he smiles, he smiles with all of his teeth, and Izuku wonders if someone has ever been lucky enough to get to sit down and count them.

“I commend your dedication,” he says. “Katsuki can be… stubborn.”

“So can Shouto,” Izuku sighs. “They’re meant for each other.”

“If you think so, I’ll have to believe it.”

Izuku puts his hand over his heart and nods. “Oh definitely, I guarantee it.”

“Then consider me invested too,” he grins, and it’s like talking to an old friend.

It shouldn’t be surprising that Eijirou is so easy to talk to, considering how comfortable he made Izuku feel at the tattoo shop, but now that they have this common friend they both apparently love a little too much (Izuku considers this validation, thank you very much), it sort of melts out of them as a constant stream of mutual affection for a friend, a lifetime of unshared history, and the specific kind of energy generated by two people who can talk about anything.

Izuku quickly gets all of the answers he was looking for. Eijirou apparently got a job offer in a different city right after they finished university, and he just recently switched to the shop where he did his apprenticeship here in town so he could be closer to his moms. His apartment isn’t ready to be moved into yet because of construction so Bakugou is letting him stay on his couch. Also he, Denki, and Hanta apparently used to bother Bakugou full time as the designated party squad, which kind of explains why they never ran into each other.

It still feels like there’s a whole different world he never knew about, but maybe it’s okay to uncover it a few years too late. Eijirou is nice and doesn’t seem at all bothered that his whole existence was kept a secret, but maybe he’s just easy going enough that he wouldn’t be.

He asks about Izuku’s job and his hobbies and his notebooks, and Izuku finds a friend in someone who thinks everything he draws has to have a dedicated sketchbook. They’re all in storage except for his Izuku book, and Izuku isn’t sure if he should be flattered or apologize.

Izuku asks him about his art and how got into tattooing, and Eijirou tells him about a scrawny dweeb who got cornered by the wrong kind of people on the way home and the nice man in leather and studs who chased them off for him.

“He was loud and had bright yellow hair like a big banana, but I thought he was so cool, and he was covered in tattoos and stuff, and I thought man it would be awesome to look like that.”

“Was he an artist too?” 

“Nah, singer in a punk band, but his husband is, and I couldn’t sing, but I could draw, kinda! His husband is actually the one who got me the booth at Midnight, the shop I used to work at before now. Went to school with the owner, I think.”

“Amazing,” Izuku says in awe. “That’s so nice.”

“Gave me my start,” he says proudly. “Oh wait! You know Hitoshi’s dads, right?”

“That was them?!” Izuku gasps.

“Yeah! Really nice guys.”

“Yeah, they really are. That’s so amazing.”

“Small world, right?” Eijirou laughs. “Sorry, we are talking about me a lot today, my bad.”

“No, please, you know, like, everything about me, what else is there to talk about,” Izuku jokes, shaking his head.

“I’m sure we could think of something.”

Izuku’s face warms too quickly, and his tongue gets caught in his throat, but he doesn’t get the chance to babble his way through this one because Bakugou comes in and whacks Eijirou on the back of the head.

“Hey!”

“Missed your own goddamn welcome home party, idiot,” Bakugou says. 

“What?”

“Last one just left,” he says. “Except for Deku, but.”

Eijirou sits up and looks around. “Wait, already? What time is it?”

“I dunno. After midnight, I guess.”

“Shit,” Eijirou says, and Izuku gasps.

“I’m so sorry,” Izuku jumps up. “I was just supposed to drop the beer off, I didn’t mean to stay all night.”

“Are they mad?” Eijirou winces.

“Those idiots? Nah. Me? Hell yeah, I’ve gotta clean this shit up for nothing.”

Eijirou puts his hands together and pleads. “Katsuki, best bro of bros, love of my life, I promise I will scrub this whole house down from top to bottom before you get home from work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

“I got it, but food’s on you.”

“Of course, anything you want, I owe you my life.”

“Will you shut the fuck up,” Bakugou rolls his eyes, but even from just this one interaction, Izuku can see how much he adores him. It kind of makes him want to cry, in that proud parent kind of way. Bakugou Katsuki likes another human being enough to sound fond around them. He never thought he’d see the day. “Now what are you looking at.”

Izuku’s eyes well up, and his lip quivers. “Kacchan has a friend.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Okey dokey,” Izuku stands up to his feet.

“Sorry, dude,” Eijirou says to Izuku.

“Sorry to keep you from your party,” he says with an apologetic pout. 

“I can see those guys any day,” he waves. “Thanks for hanging out.”

“Any time,” he says quietly, and then he looks up to see Bakugou in a half it’s four hours past my bedtime snarl and decides to skedaddle before getting his butt kicked. “See ya!”

 

He kind of hates how late it is because Shouto will definitely already be in bed, and this means he won’t be able to go over to his apartment and tell him he spent the whole evening with the cute tattoo artist he was never supposed to see again.

Who he had such a nice time with, he didn’t even realize he was at a party the whole time he was there.

It was just the two of them on that couch with Eijirou’s sketchbook and a lifetime of catching up to do between two people who never knew they needed catching up with each other at all, and Izuku already misses it. He already misses him.

And now Izuku is exhausted, absolutely drained to the bone as he walks into his own apartment, thanks to the million and one emotions he’s cycled through in the last twelve hours.

Izuku grimaces in distress. He forgot to ask him if he likes movies.

He puts his head in his hands and groans. That was his one chance, and now he’ll never know.

But he did see him again, and he’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse because now he wants to see him. He wants to ask him a million more questions, and listen to all of his stories, and hear him laugh again. He wants to feel that warmth that just radiates from Eijirou all the time and keep it all to himself.

And although Izuku has never been someone who could be considered greedy, Eijirou makes him want to be.

But that’s okay. He’s always been great at telling himself no. An expert, even.

Izuku peels himself out of his work clothes, finally gets a hot shower, and doctors his tattoo as best as he can without Shouto’s careful assistance, and crawls into bed with a loud enough sigh to sound like an old man.

It’s not the night he planned for, but he can always do his end of the week wind down tomorrow. He might even convince Shouto to join him this time. It’s been a while since they just lounged around all day with absolutely nothing to do.

It was nice when Saturdays belonged to the three of them. Izuku would make everyone breakfast because he actually makes a darn good breakfast, thank you very much, and Bakugou and Shouto would pile up together on the couch pretending like Izuku couldn’t see them sneaking kisses while he cooked just a few feet away.

Now they’re at war, and Izuku’s apartment is lonely, and he just wants his best friends to admit they love each other again so everything can go back to normal.

It’s not like they’re happy like this.

He exhales and pulls out his phone to distract himself. No point in bumming himself out when he can’t do anything about their relationship at 2:00 in the morning.

Izuku opens Instagram to see what all he missed and scrolls until he sees a picture of the party posted from Bakugou’s account with the caption no losers allowed, obviously meant to be a jab at Shouto, and Izuku fortunately is not in it.

He clicks on Bakugou’s account and scrolls through a collection of pissed off hot boy selfies, random cats on the street, a lot of food pics, and too many candid shots of Shouto either looking cute or ridiculous for someone who claims to hate him, and them he gets to a photo of Bakugou, Denki, Hanta, and Eijirou with a pink haired girl Izuku doesn’t recognize.

They’re at a bar, it looks like, and the photo looks recent. Eijirou has his arm around Bakugou’s neck with his signature bright smile, and Bakugou actually looks happy to be there. Bakugou never looks happy to be anywhere.

Eijirou is tagged in the photo, so Izuku clicks on his page out of pure curiosity, and now that he knows, he sees all the clues from before that he was already there, such as the mirror pic he took of himself in Bakugou’s bathroom that Izuku didn’t allow himself to look at last time and the shot of the steaming coffee mug that says die die die down the front that Hanta got Bakugou for his birthday last year.

He scrolls past years of filter trends until he gets to a picture of a dark, shaggy haired Eijirou in a big red hoodie with the biggest smile on his face seated next to a younger and pricklier Bakugou with his middle finger up and his nails painted. The caption says last night with my best bro, and Izuku’s heart sinks a little.

They were close.

He had no idea.

Izuku tips over onto his back, his heart too full and too strained for this, and he yelps as soon as his shoulder hits the mattress.

He keeps forgetting about that.




“So ask him out,” Shouto says over a cup of tea, still in his pajamas and just recently out of bed. They’re seated at Izuku’s kitchen table with a few slices of toast and some cut up fruit. It’s nothing special, but Izuku just needed someone to talk to, and Shouto doesn’t have much of an appetite these days.

Maybe if he would just talk to someone…

“I can’t do that,” Izuku balks. “He’s just my tattoo artist. And Kacchan’s friend.”

“And you think he’s cute, and you spent all night with him.”

“Yeah, and that was an accident,” he says, slumping into his seat. “I mean, he’s used to talking to people, right? That’s like part of his job, and I’m not, I mean, I talk to you guys all the time, but you’re used to me, so I probably just missed a social cue or something, and he was too nice to blow me off.”

“Yes, that must be why he drew a whole forest for you,” Shouto nods. “He was just being nice.”

“That was for work,” Izuku frowns. “He was practicing.”

“He was thinking about you.”

“What would you know,” he says, his face growing hot. Shouto frowns and sits up, stiff and a little annoyed. Izuku groans. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know that.”

“It’s just… look, if I get my hopes up, I’m gonna make things really awkward for a lot of people, okay? They’re living together.”

Shouto looks up at him then, cheeks hollowing.

“On his couch,” Izuku clarifies. “Eijirou is staying on Kacchan’s couch until he can move into his own apartment.”

“I see,” he relaxes. Jealous. “Then ask him after he moves out.”

Izuku puts his head in his hands and whines. “What if he says no?”

“What if he says yes?”

Izuku looks up at Shouto in time to see the slightest quirk of his lips. “I would die, and you would have to split all of my belongings with Kacchan.”

“Write a will.”

“I can’t afford a lawyer.”

“I can.”

Izuku sits up and frowns, and Shouto sips his tea. “Todoroki-kun.”

Shouto smiles to himself, and Izuku closes his eyes in distress. He absolutely cannot ask Eijirou out, and it might be best if he avoids going over to Bakugou’s apartment for the time being by any means necessary so that he doesn’t say anything life or friendship ruining in front of him.

He doesn’t want to put Eijirou in an uncomfortable position by pushing his own silly little one-sided crush on him, and he doesn’t want Bakugou caught in the middle when Eijirou has to understandably let him down. 

It’s not their fault that Izuku likes him. Why should they have to suffer?

He knows Shouto means well (kind of), but Izuku is sure he’s doing the right thing here. If all he gets out of meeting Eijirou is an amazing tattoo, then he’ll be satisfied. He doesn’t want or need more.

And then maybe one day after Izuku comes to his senses, they can even be friends. That would be nice.

“Or you could just listen to me,” Shouto says.

Izuku looks at him and pouts. “I really can’t.”




Several days pass, and Izuku grows more confident with his decision to secretly shove his feelings aside, the photo of the two friends of the past constantly keeping him in check. It’s been half a decade since those two last saw each other. Izuku doesn’t want to complicate things. 

As Bakugou’s (original) best friend, he owes him that much.

So Izuku minds his business, goes to work, keeps his tattoo taken care of, and spends his evenings after work with Shouto like always. (Except now he doesn’t have to feel like he’s choosing one over the other when he’s not because he knows Bakugou has company over at his house). 

And it’s going well! That is, until he gets a text message from a certain friend living in a certain house he’s trying very hard not to go to.

Kacchan: oi dad baked a shit ton of cookies and said half go to your place

Izuku looks up to the sky in dismay. Why him? Why this week?

Izuku: can you bring them over maybe? i just got home :(

It’s worth a shot.

Kacchan: no way i’m not going over there until the candycane moves away

Well, at least candy cane is an improvement from asshole or bastard, so that’s something.

Izuku: please :(

Kacchan: oh you too good to come over to my place now? is that it? cause i don’t live in your fancy boy shithead apartment building

Izuku sighs. If they don’t make up soon, Shouto’s not going to be the only one here split in half.

Izuku: i’ll be there in a few minutes :3 tell your dad i said thanks for the cookies 

Kacchan: tell him yourself 🙄

 

It’s just a quick errand. It’s not a big deal. He won’t have an excuse to sit down and fall in love for the third time this month. He’ll just grab his cookies and run, and then spend the rest of the night assembling the perfect thank you note for Bakugou’s parents. Perfect.

Izuku drives over to Bakugou’s place, grateful that he has a much easier time parking now that there’s no welcome home party going on for Eijirou, and he marches towards the door with the confidence of a man who came here for cookies.

He knocks on the door and runs over his plans for how he can zip in and zip out before anyone has the chance to see him, but when it opens, it’s not Bakugou who answers.

Oh no.

Eijirou looks at him with his eyebrows raised before his face twists in thirteen different directions. “Izuku?”

Ah yes. Of course he didn’t know Izuku was coming by. Why in the world would Bakugou have told him to expect a visitor? How silly of Izuku to assume.

“Yeah, hi,” he forces a smile. “Kacchan told me to come pick some cookies up. I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure! He’s just not here so I was a little confused for a second,” he laughs. “My bad, dude, come in!”

“He’s not,” Izuku grits. From what he gathered from his messages, Izuku was expected to come over immediately or else risk severing their friendship. “I thought he was, sorry.”

“Nah, he’s on his way though I think,” he says. “Feel free to hang out and wait if you want. I won’t bite.”

“I don’t want to get in the way…,” Izuku says awkwardly.

“Bro, I’m literally just doing laundry in here,” he laughs. “It’s not a problem. I’m just sorry you’re gonna have to watch me fold my socks right now. You just get off work?”

“Ah yeah,” he says. “A few minutes ago, actually.”

“Sweet. You hungry? I know Katsuki is big on feeding people, but I’m kind of not allowed to use the kitchen.”

Izuku can’t help but giggle. “Banned, huh?”

“Indefinitely,” he says with a regretful half smile. “I do order a mean box of chicken, though.”

“It’s fine,” he waves. “I can’t stay anyway.”

Eijirou hums and looks off. “That’s too bad. So do you come around a lot?”

Izuku sucks his teeth and looks down at his feet. “Kind of more lately than usual.”

“Oh?”

“We all used to mostly congregate at my place,” he says, leaning back on his heels. “But lately…”

“All?” Eijirou raises his eyebrows. They’re so tiny, Izuku could cry.

“Oh, the three of us,” he says. “Me, Kacchan, and, umm, he probably calls him the bastard.”

“Ah,” he smiles. “Sometimes.”

“But… since they’re still at war, I’m splitting my time between here and Shouto’s place.”

“Say no more, I completely understand,” he puts his hands up. “Rock and a hard place, got it.”

“Basically,” Izuku laughs. “I can drop by less, though, I mean Kacchan might fuss a little, but I don’t want to–.”

“Hey,” he stops him. “You’re having a hard enough time as it is with the whole best friend divorce settlement. Me being here shouldn’t add any more layers to the shit cake.”

Izuku covers his face to keep from laughing anymore. “It doesn't, I swear, you’re great. You’re amazing, even, I’m just–.”

“Too polite for your own good,” he nods. “And you’re Katsuki’s best friend, and it is really nice to have someone to talk to after sitting around here by myself all day.”

A fond smile sneaks itself out onto Izuku’s face, and this time he doesn’t try to force it back. “You’re probably not getting much of that from Kacchan.”

“I’m really not.”

“I will do my best to keep you entertained while you fold your socks,” Izuku vows.

“You’re an angel, Midoriya Izuku.”

The no, that would be you somehow doesn’t manage to escape his lips.

At least he’s pretty sure it didn’t.

Oh god this is going to be difficult.

Izuku follows him into the living room and plops down onto the floor a few feet away so Eijirou doesn’t have to move his assortment of folded clothes off of the couch. 

“Oh!” Eijirou says suddenly, startling Izuku. “Can I see how your tattoo is healing?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Izuku moves to stand back up.

“No, don’t get up,” he says and drops down to his knees to waddle over to him.

Izuku turns around and carefully untucks his shirt, ignoring how much this feels like he’s undressing for someone. He’s shy to lift up his shirt, and Eijirou doesn’t yank at him the way Bakugou did. No, he’s quiet and patient, and it makes it a little hard to breathe.

“Is that, umm, high enough?”

“Almost,” he says from behind him. “Do you mind?”

“No, please, go ahead,” Izuku says, not looking at him over his shoulder because he really can’t do that right now.

Warm, soft hands slide up his back as he moves Izuku’s shirt out of the way. Izuku closes his eyes and holds his breath, scared of revealing what an absolute disaster he is while Eijirou inspects him. Like just breathing wrong could be considered something close to a confession.

“Good,” he says, the sound distant and stuck in his throat. “I don’t think there’s any scarring or anything that needs to be gone over later.”

“That’s good,” Izuku swallows. “I think.”

“Can I…,” his voice trails off, and Izuku’s chest tightens. “Would you mind if I took a picture?”

“What?” Izuku asks over his shoulder.

“For my portfolio,” he clarifies. “I’d like to add this one, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh! Yeah sure!”

“Great,” he says and waddles towards the couch to grab his phone. “Do you mind turning towards the light?”

“Not a problem,” Izuku chirps before pivoting around. “Is this good?”

“Perfect,” he says, and Izuku hears a number of clicks from behind his back. “You care if I post this on Instagram? It’s good business.”

“Oh sure, go ahead!”

“Sweet,” he says with a click of his teeth. “Thanks, dude.”

“No problem,” Izuku swallows. “Man.”

“The fuck are you two doing?”

Izuku looks up to see Bakugou in the doorway with takeout bags over each arm and an incredulous look on his face. 

“Tattoo promo, bro,” Eijirou says, looking like a small (giant) child propped up on his knees with his phone in his hands.

“It’s good business,” Izuku adds, and Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“Okay, well when you fuckers are done being weird on my floor, come eat. This shit was expensive.”

Izuku watches him walk away in horror. He wasn’t supposed to stay this long, let alone for dinner. How is he supposed to get through a whole meal with them without looking like a total doofus?

“You can put your shirt down now,” Eijirou says.

“Right,” he sucks his teeth. “Thanks.”

Nope, didn’t even have to sit down at the table for that to happen. Wonderful.

Might as well eat then while he’s here.

Thankfully most of the conversation is Bakugou and Eijirou’s roommate stories from when they were in college, and Izuku doesn’t have to say a word to enjoy it.

He listens quietly while they recall how they moved in together, divided the refrigerator, and how Eijirou growing taller than Bakugou absolutely ruined his life.

“This fucker.”

Eijirou laughs, delighted, and his eyes crease as he covers his mouth with his hands. “I apologized for that.”

“He used to spike his hair up real big to compensate for it,” Bakugou says, gesturing above his own head. “Was about eye level to you, probably, I don’t know. Asshole was short back then, anyway. Tiny as shit too and scared of everything.”

Izuku is having a really hard time picturing any of that right now. Especially the tiny part and the hair style.

“Did you ever change your contact name for me?”

“Nope.”

“Bro, it’s been years!”

“And it still applies, Mufasa!”

Eijirou gasps in betrayal. “Damn, dude.”

“What’s the contact name?” Izuku asks, invested.

Eijirou exhales and shakes his head. “I can’t say it.”

“Oh,” he sits up. This must be serious.

“Shut up, crybaby,” Bakugou says to Eijirou before turning back to Izuku. “His number is saved under Shitty Hair.”

Izuku holds back a snort.

“You are literally the meanest dude I have ever met in my entire life.”

“And you still chose to sleep on my couch,” Bakugou says. “Dumbass.”

Eijirou takes a bite of his chicken skewer and grins. “You offered.”

“Yeah, yeah.”



This time when Izuku leaves, he feels at peace with his situation. The trick here is to spend all of his time around Eijirou with Bakugou there to supervise so he can’t make a fool of himself. 

As long as Bakugou’s there with them, Izuku can spread out his fondness into something more manageable, and he won’t have the chance to babble stupidly if they’re the ones carrying the conversation. It’s perfect.

Unfortunately though, seeing how much Bakugou genuinely likes Eijirou is not helping Izuku’s situation at all. If anything, it’s pretty much cemented the fact that he’s absolutely head over hills for him now, and this is not something about himself he’s willing to unpack yet.

No, what’s important here is that when Bakugou asks (tells) him to come back a few days later to hang out after work, Izuku doesn’t fully panic in the office bathroom. No, he only sweats a little, and sweating a little is something he can work with.

He doesn’t bother going home this time, instead deciding to drive directly to Bakugou’s house to save time, and by a miracle, he misses all the traffic on the way there. 

And then Izuku realizes it’s Wednesday, and Izuku has an itchy little rabbit on his back that reminds him that Eijirou tattoos on Wednesday. 

Well that’s disappointing.

Izuku takes a deep breath and regathers himself. He hasn’t had a hang out session alone with Bakugou in weeks, and they’re best friends, so of course Izuku misses him and wants to spend time with him, especially since Bakugou refuses to come to his building until he and Shouto make up. He’s not at all disappointed to be spending the night alone with him! He’s not!

He’s not.

He’s. Not.

Izuku’s eyebrows crease as he knocks on the door, cursing his friend for taking away his key because he thought that Izuku would betray him somehow and bring Shouto here without telling him first. He was only thinking about it, he wasn’t really going to do it, and he never even said he would out loud. An unfair punishment for a man having thoughts is what this is. Izuku is innocent.

The door opens, and Izuku opens his mouth to demand he get his key back because it’s really not right that he should have to knock and wait after all these years when he’s greeted by a flash of red.

That’s… not Bakugou.

“Izuku,” Eijirou says, partially out of breath and hardly surprised. “He’s–.”

“Not here yet,” Izuku finishes for him with a nod. “Got it.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Sorry.”

“He took away my key,” he scowls.

“Oh man, good thing I was here then, huh. Oh! Come in, sorry,” Eijirou steps aside, and Izuku has to turn to keep from brushing against him. He is now one hundred percent sure he could not survive knowing how warm his body would feel against his right now.

“Thanks,” Izuku says quietly and walks into the house.

“I swear to god, I do go to work.”

Izuku looks over his shoulder in surprise. “What?”

“It seems like every time you stop by, I’m playing house husband,” he laughs nervously. “The shop had a bad roof leak so none of us can tattoo right now. Health hazard and stuff. That’s why I’m home. I totally work full time.”

“Oh,” Izuku smiles. “It’s none of my business, really, but I wasn’t thinking anything about it, I swear. I mean I know you work, you tattooed me.”

“Right,” he laughs. “I did do that.”

“You did a great job.”

Eijirou’s cheeks and ears darken as he looks away. “Stop…”

“You did! I love it so much!”

“That means so much, dude,” he says. “God.”

Izuku realizes he’s gushing and tries to play it cool, which is something he definitely knows how to do. “Maybe when you’re done playing house husband over here, you can make some room for me.”

Eijirou chokes. “What?”

Izuku feels his whole body burn hot.

Oh no.

“Oh no! I meant, like, when the shop reopens, maybe I could book a second appointment,” he says quickly, waving his hands in a panic. “Oh god, that came out so weird, I’m so sorry.”

Eijirou’s face cracks into an amused smile before he bursts out into a laugh. “No worries, dude! Yeah sure, if you ever wanna get your second one, I’m your guy.”

Izuku puts his face in hands in distress. “It’s been a long day, that’s so embarrassing.”

“I said no worries,” he waves. “You tired? Can I get you something?”

“Oh no, really, I pretty much also live here,” Izuku says seriously. “Kacchan would kill me if I didn't act like it. I usually have a key.”

“Well,” Eijirou looks off and idly scratches his jaw. “As far as I can tell, Kacchan isn’t here.”

Izuku flushes slightly. “True…”

“It’s just you and me.”

“Yeah,” he swallows. Based on how empty his head is and how heavy his chest feels right now, Izuku thinks that being alone with Eijirou cannot be good for his overall health. “I’m gonna… go grab some water.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs.

Izuku uses these two minutes apart to gather himself. There’s no reason he has to beat himself up for one sentence coming out weird. Eijirou immediately got what he was trying to say and absolutely does not think he was hitting on him.

And Izuku was definitely not hitting on him. Izuku doesn’t know how to hit on people, let alone super nice and hot people who he wants to fireman carry him off into the sunset. The fact that he can talk to Eijirou without screaming is a feat of strength in itself.

And they do talk! They talk all the time, well when they’re around each other, and he’s easy to talk to. Izuku doesn’t have to make this weird by worrying, he just has to talk to Eijirou. Or get him talking, rather. 

That’s it. He just has to get Eijirou talking and then Izuku won’t have the chance to stick his other foot in his mouth. He’s got this.

He chugs the rest of his water and heads back into the living room with his new plan.

“I don’t know how long he’ll be, but I was just watching a movie before you got here, if you wanna join me,” Eijirou says, and then Izuku sees the paused screen on the television. 

Izuku relaxes. This is much better than having to steer a conversation away from his own buffoonery. They don’t have to talk at all!

“That sounds great! What are we watching?”

“The Princess Bride,” he says. “It’s my favorite.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen that one,” Izuku says.

“Really?” Eijirou’s eyes widen. “I’ll start it over then.”

“You don’t have to do that, really,” he says, but Eijirou already has the remote control in his hands tapping away at the back button.

“You’ve gotta see it from the beginning, it’s important,” he says seriously. “Or else it just doesn’t make any sense, and I cannot have you confused by my favorite movie, I just can’t.”

“Understood,” he laughs. 

Eijirou plops down on the couch and pats the spot next to him. Izuku sits with enough space between them to give him room without looking repulsed either, and just being next to him reminds him of that magnetic warmth that makes being around Eijirou so easy.

He smells like fresh laundry and hair conditioner, and it takes everything Izuku has to not lean into him. It might be hard to explain that one away, even if Eijirou is nice.

“Okay, some backstory,” he says, sitting up. “The whole movie is like being told from a storybook by this grandpa to his sick grandson, but it’s, like, the greatest love story of all time, you’re gonna love it, I swear.”

“I trust your opinion,” Izuku nods in determination. 

“Good, ‘cause Katsuki doesn’t.”

Izuku laughs brightly and settles back into the cushion. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t.”

Eijirou grins to himself and glances at Izuku out of the corner of his eye. “You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

 

Izuku was not ready.

One minute, Princess Buttercup is being dragged away by a sketchy band of weirdos, and the next, Izuku is looking at nothing.

It’s pitch black with the sounds of sword fights and epic dialogue all blurring together in the distance, and it doesn’t quite register in his mind that it’s both as real as much as  it isn’t.

Right, they were watching a movie. They are watching a movie.

Izuku blinks himself awake and sees the screen in front of him from a harsh angle, and that’s when he pieces together what kind of mess he’s gotten himself into.

Eijirou’s leg is all muscle and a sturdy cushion for Izuku to rest on. His fingers trail unconsciously through Izuku’s curls as he watches the movie, undisturbed even with Izuku still resting on his lap, and Izuku’s heart pounds in his chest as he finally realizes where he is and what he’s doing.

He must have fallen asleep at some point and tipped over onto Eijirou’s lap, and Eijirou didn’t throw him off. He most certainly should have, he thinks as he sits up in a panic.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Izuku says. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“That boring, huh?” Eijirou laughs.

“No, I just relaxed too much,” he admits, leaving out the part where Eijirou just does that to him. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I was all over you.”

“You looked like you needed the nap. It’s no big deal, really,” he smiles warmly.

Izuku closes his eyes and exhales in defeat. This is so humiliating. “I didn’t realize I was tired.”

“It happens,” he laughs, and then he reaches up and rubs a crease out of Izuku’s cheek with his thumb. “Sorry, dude, looks like my pocket got you.”

“It’s fine,” Izuku swallows, and Eijirou’s eyes trail over him, face softening from the amusement he wears so much to something much quieter and gentler. Izuku leans into the touch until his palm is flat against him.

It’s so warm, he thinks.

“I’ll try not to do it again,” Izuku says.

“I don’t mind.”

He has a small scar under his eye. 

Izuku reaches up to see if it’s rough or soft to the touch. Eijirou doesn’t flinch.

“How did you get that?”

“Fell when I was a kid,” he mutters.

“Oh,” Izuku swallows. “Did it hurt?”

“Don’t remember.”

“You’re missing your movie.”

“I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Izuku’s fingers trail down his cheek and drop to their adjoined knees, and Eijirou moves his hand to Izuku’s jaw, stroking along the curve with his thumb.

“You’re really nice,” Izuku says quietly.

His eyes flicker to Izuku’s mouth, sending a quick shiver down his spine. “Am I?”

“I think so.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“No problem.”

He doesn’t remember reaching out or pinching the fabric of Eijirou’s shirt between his fingers, and the small tug must have been caused by the ghost of someone braver possessing him, but then the hand on his jaw slides past his ear, and Izuku feels Eijirou tugging back.

It burns.

“You fuckers in here?!” Bakugou shouts, and they both come back to their senses.

Eijirou pulls away and straightens himself up, and Izuku hops over to the opposite side of the couch, willing away the fresh color in his cheeks.

He squeezes his eyes shut and balls his hands into fists and begs himself to chill out and look normal in the three seconds he has left before Bakugou comes in here.

Nothing happened. They didn’t do anything. Izuku just fell asleep, and Eijirou was being nice about it, is all.

He glances at him out of the corner of his eye and sees Eijirou slumped over against the armrest, focused on the television screen with his eyebrows furrowed.

It didn’t mean anything.

He repeats that to himself over and over again until it becomes something close to truth, and that seems to be enough to get his stupid, hopeful heart to stop pounding.

Bakugou walks in and sits down between them, and it’s the final jolt they both need to act normal because there’s no reason why they shouldn’t act normal.

“What are we watching?”

“The Princess Bride,” Eijirou says.

“Fucker, do you ever watch anything else?”

“It’s the only movie I didn’t pack up in storage,” he pouts, Bakugou swears, and Izuku sinks into the cushions, his bottom lip already torn to shreds.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Bakugou is a comfortable wall between them and sobering enough as a person to bring Izuku back to the real world.

And in the real world, nothing good can ever come from liking someone this much. That, he’s sure of.

Chapter 3

Notes:

for legal reasons, izuku is a sagittarius here

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Izuku spends the next week hiding alone at his apartment out of fear that the phrase I almost kissed Eijirou will slip out of his mouth to the wrong person.

Shouto might just give him terrible advice such as to actually go through with it the next time he sees him, but he’s sure Bakugou would just save Izuku the trouble and kill Izuku himself. 

And he knows he’s kind of the worst for this, but he hasn’t taken the time to update Ochako, Tenya, or Tsuyu about his trainwreck of a crush at all, so skipping forward to the part where he almost let himself make a move on the nice guy staying on Bakugou’s couch seems like it might be a little confusing.

No, he knows himself. He knows that even if he can somehow keep this a secret until the day he dies, he might just say something ridiculous and telling out loud in a moment of weakness, and he can’t risk that happening. 

So he avoids everyone, making up excuses about being tired (even daring to inform the abandoned group chat so that neither Shouto or Bakugou consider themselves left out of something) until his ability to make good excuses runs out.

Izuku forgot about his own birthday.

Shouto: i can’t make it tonight i’m sick

Izuku: oh no are you okay???

Shouto: it’s probably just a cold

Izuku: omg that’s totally fine please feel better

Shouto: i’m so sorry izuku

If he’s honest, Izuku kind of accepted weeks ago that his birthday dinner wouldn’t happen, considering the circumstances of their little triad at the moment, but he never brought it up because he didn’t want to guilt Shouto or Bakugou for having their own relationship problems. And as much as he wants them back together, if being in the same room would make either of them unhappy, he wouldn’t feel right about it at all, especially if it was for his sake.

So what birthday dinner?

Izuku: it’s no problem at all!!! do you want some soup i can pick you up some soup or maybe ask my mom to make you some she won’t mind at all do you need medicine i can go get medicine is your throat sore nose runny do you have a fever how’s your poop i’m coming over

Shouto: i’m fine don’t cancel 

Izuku: well i have to cancel you’re sick

Shouto: i’m not dying

Izuku: how do you know you’re not a doctor

Shouto: my brother is

Izuku: oh 

Shouto: you and katsuki should go you can’t miss your birthday 

Izuku: it won’t be fun without you :(

Shouto: do you want me to feel bad while i’m already sick

Izuku: … no

Shouto: it’ll be fine

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and exhales. He’s not happy about this, but Shouto is stubborn and canceling would just piss both of them off. Why can’t he just pretend like he doesn’t have a birthday? Maybe it got lost in the mail?

Izuku: i’m coming over right after okay? someone should take care of you 😠 

Shouto: that’s fine i guess

A compromise that makes Shouto happy and makes Izuku feel like a selfish jerk all at the same time. Wonderful.

Izuku: wait are you just avoiding kacchan

Shouto: [img attached]

Izuku: OH GOD D:

Izuku scrunches his face up in disgust and shakes his head. He should have bought stocks for Kleenex earlier this year.

Izuku: are you sure you don’t need me???

Shouto: i’m sure 

Shouto: i’ll be sleeping if you come over later

Izuku: alright :( feel better




Izuku arrives at their favorite restaurant fifteen minutes earlier than the usual time. It’s been over a month since they were all last here, and just seeing the building makes his stomach twist into a painful knot, but things will be back to normal soon, won’t they? Shouto and Bakugou always make up eventually. 

This restaurant has so many memories that it makes his eyes sting. It’s nothing special, really. It’s small, tucked away down a side street across from a laundromat, but it smells like home. Some of his favorite nights with them have been spent here, and they serve all of his favorite food. It’s a good place.

He knows deep down Bakugou won’t come. He didn’t ask or remind him because it would be easier for them all if he just grabbed a quick bite by himself and then went back to Shouto’s. Shouto would complain that he didn’t stay long enough, but Izuku could just blame it on the fever, and he could spend the rest of the night alone on Shouto’s couch and turn one year older.

But Bakugou does come because he’s known Izuku since they were in diapers, and he’s been there for all but maybe a few birthdays somewhere there in the middle when they decided they couldn’t be friends for some stupid reason and hasn’t missed a single one since Izuku turned sixteen.

Bakugou walks towards him down the sidewalk, hands shoved in his jacket pockets and face sour against the wind, and Izuku could cry right now because not only did he remember, he actually came. 

But Bakugou did not come alone, and that makes Izuku choke a little bit.

“Hi guys,” Izuku says, surprised. Eijirou stands a few steps back with a slightly distressed look on his face.

“Car won’t start. Had to get Eijirou to bring me.”

“You won’t even know I’m here, I swear,” Eijirou apologizes. “I can go sit at a different table until you’re done, I’m just the ride.”

“No, please!” Izuku puts his hands up. “This is fine! Great, even! I’m so happy you both came!”

He kicks himself for not inviting Ejirou to come with them in the first place considering the fact that he lives with Bakugou, but in Izuku’s defense, he forgot there was supposed to be a dinner and was banking on the fact that Bakugou might have forgotten too. 

That did not go according to plan.

“See, I told you he wouldn’t care,” Bakugou grumbles and walks inside without them. Eijirou winces, embarrassed, and Izuku can’t help but smile.

“I kind of thought it was canceled anyway,” Izuku admits.

“Your birthday?!”

He closes his eyes and nods his head.

“Ohhh,” Eijirou whispers. “Well that is not allowed.”

“Apparently not,” Izuku pouts.

Eijirou scrunches his nose and gestures towards the door. “After you.”

“After him,” Izuku quips.

“Right,” he laughs.

“Are you two assholes coming or not,” Bakugou barks from inside, getting the attention of half the restaurant, and Izuku and Eijirou hurry to catch up with him before he gets them all kicked out and banned.

They sit at their usual booth, Eijirou and Bakugou on the opposite side, and Shouto’s absence from Izuku’s side is regrettably noticeable. It would have been so much better if the four of them could have come together, but he’ll just have to remember that for next year, if an invitation to Izuku’s birthday dinner wouldn’t make Eijirou uncomfortable, of course.

“So where’s the princess,” Bakugou huffs, slumping down in his seat with a deviant gleam in his eye. “Trying out some fashionably late bullshit pretty boy fuckers always make everybody wait around for?”

“He’s not coming.”

Bakugou’s face twists in confusion as he sits back up. “Oh that’s bullshit, he’s not allowed to bail out on birthday dinners, I don’t care how pissed he is. He can suck that shit right up.”

“He’s sick.”

Bakugou blinks. “What?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” he frowns. “Haven’t talked to him today.”

Izuku can see the worry all over his face, a million worse case scenarios running through his mind faster than Izuku can dispute. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t bother telling Bakugou that Shouto probably just has a cold or maybe whatever Hitoshi had a few weeks ago, if that’s still going around.

Instead he calmly digs into his pocket and pulls out his keys. He takes the one for his own apartment off of the ring and sets the rest down onto the table right in the middle between them with a loud metallic thump.

“The purple key goes to his apartment,” Izuku says. “I told him I would bring him soup and medicine when I get back, but if someone else happens to, I won’t bother going over there.”

Bakugou stares down at the keys, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisting in thought. He looks up at both Izuku and Eijirou, unsure for a moment, and then he makes a nasty kind of face an outsider might confuse for anger. “Yeah, fuck it.”

He swipes the keys off of the table and jogs out of the restaurant before he has the chance to change his mind. The surge of victory coursing through Izuku’s veins is euphoric.

If only this didn’t mean he was left alone with Eijirou, who he almost kissed after falling asleep on his leg. 

Not that he doesn’t want to be alone with Eijirou, but he would at least like to have a few months away from each other so he could start to act a little more normal around him again.

“I’m sorry, this is probably not the birthday you had in mind,” Eijirou grimaces.

“Are you kidding,” Izuku points his thumb back over his own shoulder. “That’s like the best thing to happen to me all month.”

Eijirou laughs. “Is it?”

Izuku looks at his hands, shy. “Maybe not.”

He wills himself to behave, but his mouth does not listen. Liking someone this much is terrible, and he does not recommend it.

“He makes good soup,” Eijirou offers.

“He does,” he nods.

“I’m sure, umm, Shouto? Was it? Will be feeling better soon,” he says with a small knowing smile.

“I think so too.”

Eijirou leans forward and lowers his voice. “We totally don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Oh,” Izuku blinks. “I mean, sure I don’t wanna keep you, right? I mean you probably had other things you wanted to do, that’s fine, yeah, sure, we can go.”

Of course they should leave, Izuku realizes. Now that Bakugou is gone, Eijirou has no other reason to stay here, and he has his own life and his own friends, and he probably has a million things to do with the move and the new job. There’s no reason to make him stay.

“Oh hell no, we’re celebrating your birthday together,” Eijirou sits up. “It’s on me, go crazy.”

“Stop,” Izuku laughs.

He looks around the room, grinning to himself as he openly ignores him. “This place wasn’t open when I used to live here.”

“Yeah, I think the last shop here had prawns.”

“Right,” he nods, eyes wide. “I think I remember that.”

“I never went though.”

“Me neither,” he laughs. “So what’s good here? You’re the expert.”

“Everything.”

Eijirou leans over onto his elbow and sighs. “Everything is a lot of food, Izuku. I’m only one guy.”

Izuku feels his own face light up in delight, but what’s the point in trying to hide it? He’s allowed to enjoy himself at his own birthday dinner. There’s nothing strange about that. “Okay. What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Meat,” he says, confident.

“Meat. Simple. I like it,” Izuku says. “The beef bowl here will put you in a small coma.”

“Great, I love it when food puts me in small comas.”

“I’d go with that then,” he says. “And I’m sorry that you've been deprived of your beer and sake rights for the night. They really make for the whole experience.”

“But you’re not,” Eijirou points. “I’m driving, so drink up, Birthday Boy.”

Izuku’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh no, I couldn’t. You’d have to carry me out.”

“I am more than qualified to do that,” he says, tilting his head, and his bright red ponytail swishes over one of his shoulders, effectively driving a searing hot poker right into Izuku’s chest.

“Nuh uh, no way,” Izuku smiles brightly and shakes his head. “One stray love confession, and I’m toast. I cannot do that to us tonight.”

“I think we could survive it.”

Izuku slumps over onto his elbow and pouts. “Speak for yourself.”

 

They soon order their dinner, Izuku still not quite sure why Eijirou didn’t leave when he had the chance, but the longer he sits here, the happier he is that they stayed. He knows the food here is great. It’s probably his favorite place to eat in the city, and it reminds him of his mom’s cooking, and now that he’s actually seated and waiting, he feels like he’s chained to his seat, unable to even be dragged away.

And Eijirou is nice to be there with. He shows him pictures of the tattoos he did today—two butterflies and one flying piano—and Izuku thinks he might actually have the coolest job in the whole world. He asks Izuku about the work project he mentioned in passing at some point a couple of weeks ago and seems generally pleased to hear that the client didn’t ask Izuku to redo any of it like he worried they would.

He’s so easy to talk to that before Izuku knows it, two piping hot bowls of food are placed right in front of them. Right, this is Izuku’s birthday dinner. They’re eating here together.

He taps the top of his pork cutlet with his chopsticks, pleased at the solid sound. This is the only restaurant in town that doesn’t make it too soggy, which might be why it’s his favorite. He picks up a piece and bites into it, breathing out the steam around his teeth so he doesn’t scorch himself.

“Whoa, you could hear that from over here,” Eijirou says, amazed.

Izuku looks up at him from his bowl sheepishly as he chews. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s awesome! It’s so crunchy.”

Izuku isn’t sure how he ended up recording an impromptu ASMR video of himself biting into a pork cutlet for one of Eijirou’s friends, but he is happy to help whenever he can.

“This is delicious, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I love this place. We used to come here all the time.”

Eijirou looks around with a small smile on his face, and Izuku thinks the warmth swelling around in his belly might not be from the rice bowl. “It’s nice.”

“You should come with us next time,” Izuku says quickly. “I mean after they make up.”

“I wouldn’t want to take over friends’ night.”

“I don’t see that happening,” he smiles. “I mean okay, I know you haven’t met Shouto yet and things are weird right now with them, but you’re gonna love him so much, I swear, and then you’ll see you’d fit right in here, but you’d probably fit in anywhere, sorry…”

“I wouldn’t mind coming back with you guys,” he says. “If it’s okay with them.”

“I’m sure it would be,” Izuku says.

Eijirou watches him for a moment with a small smile on his face before he looks down at his hands, his eyebrows drawing together. “So what does a guy do for a birthday cake around here? Are we supposed to pick something up or is baking it yourself a tradition? I don’t know the rules yet.”

“No cake” he laughs. “We tried one year, but it ended up with icing on the walls and a now banned offset spatula taking out Shouto’s apartment deposit.”

Eijirou gasps. “He didn’t.”

Izuku covers his face and nods. “He did.”

“No…, okay, ice cream then. One birthday cone.”

“How are you still hungry? That beef bowl holds a world record.”

“I’m really not, but I’m trying to be supportive here.”

Izuku hasn’t laughed this much with one person in years. “I don’t think I could handle a birthday cone.”

“Fine. Rain check then.”

“Fine,” Izuku agrees.

“You promise?”

“Do I look like someone who would lie about ice cream?”

“I’m going to tell Katsuki about this so I really hope not.”

Izuku’s mouth falls open. “You would rat me out like that?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my good dude.”

Izuku shakes his head and looks off, amusement twisting his mouth into a skewed smile. “Fine.”

“We have to shake on it,” he says, extending his hand across the table. “It’s the law.”

“Don’t you think this is too much?” Izuku asks as he reaches over and takes his hand.

“Nope,” he flashes a smile. “Good doing business with you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Eijirou’s hand is warm in his palm, larger than his own, and it’s strange to think about how long it’s been since someone last touched Izuku’s at all.

Izuku pulls away and balls his hands into fists in his lap, the warmth fading and yet not really going away at all. He prays that Eijirou doesn’t notice. What kind of person gets that worked up over a playful handshake?

“You ready to go?” Eijirou asks. “You have work in the morning, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure,” he says, and then he frowns. “Wait did you take off for this?”

“Now why would you ask a silly thing like that,” he hums as he stands up to his feet.

“Eijirou, please.”

“Katsuki asked.”

“So?!”

“And then how would he have gotten here, hmm?” Eijirou crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at him.

“I have a car. I could have brought him with me.”

“Oh,” he snaps his mouth shut. “Well you don’t right now, so let’s go.”

Izuku blinks. He guesses he has a point.

“Happy Birthday,” he flashes a smile, Izuku rolls his eyes, and once again he forgets that he hasn’t known him for his entire life.

 

“You really don’t have to take me home,” Izuku says once they get outside. “I can grab the bus or something, it’s really no problem.”

“Pft, no way, dude,” he waves. “The Eijirou Express is open for business, and you’re our first and only customer.”

Izuku makes a face, and Eijirou leans down far enough to whisper. 

“Take the free ride, matchmaker, you earned it.”

He sighs and shakes his head, incredulous. “Alright, just this once.”

“Whatever you say,” he sings, and as Izuku follows him to his car, he’s not sure if his own feet ever really touch the ground.

Eijirou stops at a big black SUV and gestures towards it. “This is me.”

“How am I not surprised,” he laughs.

“Hey, say what you want, but when the bros all wanna go camping, who do you think they call?”

“You go camping?” Izuku asks as he walks towards the passenger door.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” he says. “When I lived in town, Katsuki and I used to go on mountain climbing trips in this bad boy all the time.”

“I had no idea,” he says, amazed. 

Eijirou climbs in next to him and smiles. “You don’t even need a tent. The back seat lets down and everything.”

“Oh wow,” he says, looking at all the space behind him. “Okay, I see the appeal. The big car makes some points.”

“Thanks,” he grins and starts the engine. “Anywhere you need to go before we go back to your place? The Eijirou Express can handle many stops.”

“No, I’m fine,” he laughs. “Thanks, though.”

“Alrighty. You can put in your address if you want.”

“Okay,” he mumbles to himself, and then he reaches towards the GPS and taps his building into the computer. It takes a minute to reroute, the system about as old as the car, but then it takes, and they’re on their way.

There’s a lot of room in here. Izuku can freely stretch his legs and move around without having to worry about elbowing Eijirou, and it’s so high up here, he feels like if it wasn’t the middle of the night, he could see down into everyone else’s cars.

“You good?” Eijirou asks.

“There’s so much room up here!”

He laughs happily and nods. “Right?”

Izuku is so busy being excited about the car that he forgets to be nervous, but his body is sure to remind him of how terrifying being in the same car with Eijirou can be.

As soon as they park, it all comes back at once.

They’re here.

He took him home.

“Thank you for bringing me back,” Izuku says quietly.

He looks at him for a moment, eyes flicking over Izuku’s face and exhales, long and tired. “Anytime, Izuku.”

Izuku looks out of the window and bites at his bottom lip. He’s not ready to go yet, but what is he supposed to do, ask him to circle the block? See if Eijirou wants to sit in the car all night and pretend they’re on a stakeout? Go camping?

He just needs one sign that Eijirou wants anything from him more than just him getting out of the car and going inside and he’ll never get out of this car again.

Just. One. Sign.

“Oh, I didn’t get you anything!” Eijirou says suddenly. “Damn it, I’m sorry, dude, I was supposed to, but I came straight home from the shop so we wouldn’t be late because flying pianos have a shit ton of keys, oh my god, so many lines.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Izuku laughs. “You really didn’t need to, I’m happy with my little birthday dinners.”

“Please, that’s Katsuki and Shouto, this is Eijirou,” he says. “Oh, wait! My mom’s do this thing every year on my birthday as a gift, but like, there’s a real gift after of course, but they always used to say that this way, if they didn’t have something–.”

He stops suddenly, and Izuku turns to him, waiting for him to finish. “What is it?”

And then he kisses him, light and as quick as the strike of a match, and Izuku is left speechless and staring, eyes so wide that they hurt.

Eijirou brought Izuku home on his birthday, and now they’re alone at night in his car, and he kissed him, and Izuku has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

This is where he invites him in, isn’t it? That’s what normal people would do, and maybe Eijirou even expects him to. 

And he likes him! He likes him enough to invite him in, but Izuku isn’t the kind of guy who can pull off that kind of invitation. He’s never been brave enough for it, and he much prefers finding out someone wants to come inside after at least six months of confusing and naive dating. 

But Eijirou is cool, and cool people don’t do relationships. They’re all about the here and now and what feels good, and the last thing Izuku wants is for Eijirou to think that he’s a loser just because he’s not like that.

He can pretend he is though, right?

All he has to do is pretend like he’s cool too and be the kind of guy who knows how to jump right in and seduce and juice, or whatever it is the kids say these days.

He can do this.

He can offer himself up like a big hefty scoop of Izuku ice cream to this man’s big red banana split.

Go get ‘em, tiger.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, that was–,” Eijirou says, and then Izuku has his mouth on him, missing slightly, but with a quick turn of his nose, they’re locked together, mouths open and–.

Bad, it’s so bad. Eijirou is stiff against his face like a deer stuck in headlights, and Izuku thinks he may have just slobbered all over him, but he’s too scared to look, so he just keeps kissing him and trying to cover up how much he botched that, but it doesn’t seem to help whatsoever.

He pulls away with a loud, regretful smack and thinks that maybe it wasn’t that bad for Eijirou. Maybe Eijirou likes kisses like that. Maybe it was a new kind of flavor of kisses the world hasn’t seen yet. Maybe Izuku invented something.

Eijirou grimaces and sits back in his seat.

Oh no.

“Ah…,” he cocks his jaw, half in concern and what Izuku can only guess is half disgust.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Izuku squeaks.

Eijirou’s brows draw together, his eyes focused anywhere else but on Izuku. “I’m… not so sure this is a good idea.”

“Oh,” he freezes, heart falling to the floor. That’s certainly not what he wanted to hear. “Oh yeah, sure, I get it, no worries.”

Izuku opens the door as quickly as he can, forgets there’s a long drop from the seat to the ground, and jerks his ankle as he lands, but the adrenaline pulsing through his veins blocks it out.

“Izuku, wait, hold on.”

“No, it’s fine, I gotta go! Had a great time, thanks for driving me home,” Izuku says quickly before slamming the door, and he rushes away towards his building, never looking back.

A second door slams behind him, but he doesn’t stop, praying it was someone else, literally anyone else, and that Eijirou has already driven off, fueled by contempt and aversion.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go check on Shouto,” Izuku shouts. “I’m so sorry!”

And then he runs, feet carrying his faster than he ever could have managed in gym class, and by the time he makes it to his apartment door, his lungs burn, and his legs throb, but nothing compares to the ache in his chest of waking up from a thousand dreams to find himself in a nightmare.

Izuku gets inside and drops down to his knees, curling up into a ball on his own welcome mat. He misinterpreted the whole thing. Eijirou was just being a nice guy, and Izuku made a fool of himself in the worst way possible.

And the worst part is, he can’t even go to Shouto’s right now because Bakugou is over there, and he can never know about this, and it all happened on Izuku’s birthday.






Bakugou invites him to come over a few days later, and Izuku almost loses his lunch. 

 

It’s not so much of an invitation as it is another gruffly worded demand, but this time, Izuku has a reason to stay home, and that reason is the fact that Izuku can’t risk seeing Eijirou right now. He can’t look him in the eye when he feels this terrible, and apologizing won’t fix anything. He still threw himself at him like a fool, and until either Izuku invents time travel or Eijirou moves away, Izuku has to hide.

Kacchan: come over nerd i won the sake box at work

Izuku: sorry kacchan i can’t i’m sick :/

Kacchan: did you get what half and half had do i need to bring you something

Izuku: no no i’m fine i have medicine it’s just a migraine 

Izuku: i’m going to sleep goodnight

Lying to him sucks more than his feelings do right now, but what else can he do?

But a migraine doesn’t last forever and neither do good excuses, and eventually, Izuku can’t get out of going over there anymore.

Kacchan: are you pissed i bailed

Kacchan: because that was your idea

Izuku: NOOOO i’m happy you went how did that go btw 👀 

Kacchan: none of your damn business that’s how

Izuku: :C 

Kacchan: i’ll fill you in but you gotta bring an offering or something

Kacchan: information aint cheap

Izuku: can’t i just ask shouto?

Kacchan: you avoiding me?

Izuku winces. No, not exactly avoiding him, just his apartment.

Izuku: why don’t you come over here :3 i redecorated 

Kacchan: ????? so????

Kacchan: be here in 20 and bring food

Izuku puts his head in his hands and groans. Even if he wanted to, how is he supposed to get there that fast and with dinner?

Well Bakugou technically didn’t say it had to be any specific kind of dinner, so when Izuku wanders into the convenience store at the corner of his street, he feels absolutely no guilt at all about filling his little basket up with whatever he can find on the shelves. Onigiri, eggs, fruit, sandwiches, basically anything that looks like it could be healthy so that Izuku doesn’t get his butt kicked.

And it’s great, he thinks, because whatever they don’t eat, Katsuki can have for snacks later. He’ll appreciate that, he gets cranky when he’s hungry.

After Izuku is finished clearing out the shelves, he heads to the cooler to grab a dessert. This is a free pass, of course, because not only is dessert essential, it’s delicious. He just has to decide what could suit their different tastes.

He looks at the top shelf and swallows. There are only three cakes left, all strawberry, and all too perfect for someone who can’t stand to look at the color red or strawberries or anything at all that reminds him of Eijirou.

But it’s enough for three people, and that’s who Izuku is really shopping for, so he sets them on the top of the pile and decides that this will have to be his offering.

For everything, it seems.

How could one tiny piece of cake in a plastic box fix anything?

“Is that all?”

“That’s everything, thanks.”

Izuku carries his bags of food and the lump in his throat all the way to Bakugou’s doorstep where he knocks and thinks for once he’s glad he can’t just let himself in.

It’s Bakugou who answers, both to his dismay and his relief, and he doesn’t hold back on the stream of curses and jabs for Izuku’s easy way out. How appropriate.

“Is Eijirou hungry?” Izuku substitutes for here. Surely asking for him would be suspicious, and there’s no telling what would happen if Bakugou turned around and called out for him.

“Nah, he’s never home anymore,” he says. “Started sleeping over at Denki’s place so he wouldn’t wake me, like I give a shit. I barely see him.”

“Oh,” Izuku’s heart sinks, guilt pooling in his stomach like restless bile, and he has to bite his tongue to keep it from coming up.

Is Eijirou avoiding Bakugou’s apartment because he doesn’t want to have to see him? Does he hate him that much? Sure he thought that was a definite possibility, and he wouldn’t blame him if he did, but it still stings.

If Bakugou knows something happened, he’s doing an excellent job of keeping it to himself, but Izuku knows him well enough to know that he would have confronted Izuku days ago if he knew anything. He wouldn’t have just let something like this slide.

No, Eijirou didn’t tell him, which is a relief, but it doesn’t do anything to help the unsettled feeling Izuku has weighing on his chest that he damaged a perfectly innocent friendship.

But why? It was just one bad kiss? 

Izuku’s eyes widen in horror once he realizes he never once stopped to ask Eijirou if he was single. He might very well have a partner somewhere out there and thinks he did something wrong, but Eijirou has never done anything wrong in his life. Maybe Bakugou knows his partner, and that’s why he can’t be here? What has Izuku done? Has he ruined both a perfectly good relationship and a perfectly good friendship all with one sweep of his stupid duckbill mouth?

“Kacchan,” Izuku says quickly.

Bakugou turns around and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Does Eijirou…” his voice trails off. He can’t come right out and ask him if he’s seeing anyone because he might mistake that for interest, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. No, he’ll have to divert it a little bit. “Does Eijirou, umm, have anyone he likes?”

Bakugou laughs. “Nosy fucker, ask him yourself.”

“I can’t do that.”

He sucks his teeth and waves. “You’ve seen that sappy ass look on his face. You tell me.”

“Oh,” Izuku swallows. “Good to know.”

As soon as Bakugou looks away, quickly occupied by his hoard of snacks, Izuku closes his eyes and exhales.

He will do absolutely anything to stop an innocent person from getting hurt by his mistake. Eijirou didn’t do anything he should feel bad about, Izuku did.

He just doesn’t know how to make this right yet.

“You get tuna mayo?”

“It should be in there.”

“Nice.”

At least someone’s happy.





“Just go talk to him.”

Izuku went to Shouto’s apartment once he was feeling better to check on him. He gave him absolutely no information at all about Bakugou’s visit other than the fact that he did come over with soup, medicine, and tea, and that he didn’t go to work the next day.

According to Shouto, that part was unnecessary, but in Izuku’s opinion, it was quite romantic of him to stay with him so long.

He now lies with his head on Shouto’s lap and his knees pulled up to his chest while Shouto rests his head back against the sofa cushion with a sheet mask over his face. He’s sure together they look like a piece of modern art, but Izuku’s crisis is much too important for him to stop and point that out right now.

“I can’t, he’s never home anymore.”

“You know where he works.”

“I can’t just go to the shop for this, are you crazy?! Then everyone he works with is gonna know what happened,” he says up at him.

“Maybe they already do.”

Izuku groans and rolls over into Shouto’s stomach. “No.”

“It’s what you always tell me to do,” Shouto reminds him.

“And since when do you listen to me?”

He hums and adjusts the paper edges around his chin. “I’m just waiting for proof it’s good advice.”

Izuku sits up and frowns. “Now that’s not fair.”

He looks at him, a visage of the ghost of skin care past, expressionless but somehow still an open book. “If you don’t talk to him, I’ll tell Katsuki what you did.”

“Shouto?!”

“I won’t, but wasn’t that a nice incentive?”

Izuku rolls over and puts his forehead on his knee. “Maybe.”

“He likes you,” Shouto says.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Did he say he didn’t?”

“You didn’t see the look on his face.”

“No, I didn’t,” he agrees, and that’s the end of it.




Izuku takes Shouto’s advice, even if it is under duress. He’s pretty sure Shouto was just joking about telling Bakugou, but just in case, he gathers the courage to actually talk to Eijirou himself and resolve this as amicably as he can.

He doesn’t need forgiveness or friendship from him or anything like that. All he wants is for Eijirou to feel comfortable enough here to be around Bakugou again without having to worry about seeing Izuku and to maybe patch up whatever relationship Izuku might have damaged by acting like a one man circus.

So he looks up the shop and finds out when they’re closed and settles on going over on Saturday morning with both of his fingers crossed. 

He gets up bright and early, puts on his nicest, most professional sweater that Bakugou says makes him look like he collects old library books, and heads out the door.

He did forget to tell Bakugou he’s coming, but it might be best if he doesn't give Eijirou a reason to duck out. This is important business, after all. He can’t blow it by leaking information to spies or best friends who have absolutely no idea what’s going on.

So when he gets there and knocks on the door, Bakugou is understandably surprised to see him. He leads him into the rest of the house, still half asleep from being dragged out of bed before noon, but he doesn’t shout at him.

“You want coffee?”

“Thanks, but I won’t be staying long,” Izuku says, leaving out the part where he thinks he won’t be welcome here long. “Where’s Eijirou? I need to talk to him.”

“Moved out already,” he says as he starts configuring the little espresso maker Shouto got him last year. Izuku can’t remember if it was for his birthday or for their anniversary, and he kind of hates how much going over the espresso machine acquisition history is keeping him from crying. “Got in his apartment a few days ago. Bastards sure took their time with it.”

“Oh.”

And just like that, Izuku loses his only chance.

“You sure you don’t want nothin’?”

“Coffee would be great,” Izuku says. He turns to him and forces a smile. “Thanks, Kacchan.”

“You need his number or something?”

“No, I was just going to offer to help move his things if he needed an extra pair of hands,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

Izuku sits down at the table and waits patiently and quietly, pushing back the failure occupying his thoughts until he can squeeze through whatever he needs to seem normal. Bakugou reaches up towards one of the shelves and then sets something down onto the table in front of Izuku.

It’s his house key.

“Don’t wake me up again for useless shit,” he says.

Izuku smiles and pockets the key. “I won’t.”






Two weeks later, Bakugou tells Izuku to meet him outside. Izuku grabs his coat and hurries downstairs, the cold nipping at him like an old friend. He loves this time of year, he just wishes he could will himself to enjoy it these days.

Izuku climbs into Bakugou’s car and warms his hands in front of the air vent. It’s kind of exciting, going out like this. He wonders what kind of adventure they might go on and if he should remind him that Shouto is still upstairs. 

“Where are we going?”

“We gotta go to Eijirou’s house warming bullshit or whatever.”

Izuku’s stomach drops. “What?”

“Loser wants to throw a party for his new apartment or whatever, I don’t know. Let’s go, we’re late, and I don’t wanna hear him whining about it all night.”

“Kacchan, I can’t go to that. I wasn’t invited, it wouldn’t be right.”

“Yeah you were, he just didn’t have your number,” he says. “Told me to tell you.”

“Oh,” Izuku’s eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t like bein’ told what to do.”

Izuku looks away in distress. “Kacchan, please. We’re supposed to bring something right? I can’t show up empty handed, I’m gonna look rude. Can we run by the home store first? I can get him some tongs or something. Everybody likes tongs.”

“Already taken care of,” he points towards the back seat. Izuku turns around and sees the bottle of wine and relaxes. The Todoroki family logo is probably cheating here, but Eijirou won’t care. He’d probably like it even more if he found out it was from Bakugou’s something’s something’s family vineyard. Somehow, it’s the perfect gift. Even if it is cheating.

“Right, okay,” he takes a breath, slightly more calm than he was a minute ago. “But I’m not dressed for it.”

“Oh my god, Deku, shut up. We’re fuckin’ going, no one gives a shit.”

“Okay.”

Okay.

He can do this. He doesn’t know what the guest list looks like, but he’s pretty sure Denki and Hanta will be there, and he knows for a fact that Bakugou will be, so all he has to do is stick with them until Bakugou gets fed up with being around too many extras and decides to go home.

It shouldn’t be too hard, and Eijirou isn’t the kind of guy who would make a public spectacle of Izuku’s bad decision so it doesn’t feel like he’s walking into a trap.

However, he can’t shake the feeling that him being invited here is just a polite formality to avoid telling Bakugou why Izuku wouldn’t be invited, and that makes him a little sick to think about, if he’s honest. How long will it take for them pretending like nothing happened for Bakugou’s sake for one of them to actually start to believe it?

Izuku spends the whole ride there with his arms folded across his stomach, pressing down to relieve himself of the tangle of nerves he’s been fighting for weeks.

It’ll be fine. It’s just one party.

Bakugou stops the car, and Izuku’s hands start to shake. He shoves them in his pockets, letting them tremble uselessly out of sight, and they walk up to Eijirou’s building.

They take the elevator up to the fifth floor, and Izuku follows Bakugou to one of the apartments at the end of the hall. He holds his breath while Bakugou knocks.

Eijirou opens the door, the sound of the party inside spilling out with him, and he looks genuinely surprised to see that they’re there.

“You came!”

Izuku’s nerves keep his greeting tucked away safe in his throat, but he is happy to see him. His sleeves are pushed up over heavily tattooed arms, and Izuku realizes he never stopped to look at any of them before. He kind of never noticed Eijirou had any tattoos at all, if he’s honest, like he got used to them being there the moment they met and spent too much time staring at his face.

“Come in,” he waves. 

Bakugou doesn’t have a problem stepping inside and handing Eijirou the bottle of wine he brought, but Izuku’s feet stay promptly glued to the floor. He could wait outside until they’re done. That wouldn’t be a problem at all.

“You comin’ nerd?”

“Yep,” Izuku surges forward.

He stays glued to Bakugou’s side for the night. The apartment is filled with Eijirou’s friends and coworkers, crowded enough to be busy, but it’s not the elbow to elbow kind of get together that usually ends with someone being tossed through a window.

He will not have anyone calling that an exaggeration when his best friend is Bakugou Katsuki. A simple yeet would be considered a raging success.

There’s a few familiar faces. Hitoshi is leaned up against a wall with a beer in one hand looking about as tired and bored as one can be, but he still watches Denki carefully who’s busy talking his ear off right in front of him. Izuku didn’t know they knew each other, but he doesn’t look the least bit annoyed by him.

The pink haired girl from the photo is there, and she shrieks in delight once she sees Bakugou. She throws her arms around him, Bakugou snarls, and she laughs. Another secret good friend, Izuku thinks. He makes a mental note of that.

“Ashido, fuck off,” Bakugou swats.

“Oh, grumpy ass came,” she coos, poking her lips out into a pout. “Isn’t it past him’s bedtime?”

“I’ll fucking kill you, and no one here would turn me in.”

“I know,” she hums and turns to Izuku. “You brought a date?”

“Oh no,” Izuku says quickly, a shock going up his back that could only be from sensing Shouto waking up out of a dead sleep. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. Eijirou tattooed me once, but I’m one of Ka-Bakugou’s friends.”

Bakugou glances at him with a small heh at Izuku’s little self correction.

“Oh! Izuku! I’ve heard so much about you! Great tattoo by the way. I’ve seen some of the other sketches, but Eijirou is a meanie and won’t share them.”

Izuku laughs nervously and pushes one of the stray clumps of hair out of his face. She’s seen the Izuku book? And is he supposed to apologize that Eijirou won’t let her have any of those drawings? Izuku doesn’t want anyone else to have them.

“Mina, please,” Eijirou groans as he walks towards them. He turns to Izuku and Bakugou with a drink can in each hand. “Who drove?”

“I did,” Bakugou raises an eyebrow.

Eijirou crosses his arms to switch sides and passes them the drinks.

“Thanks,” Izuku says. Bakugou hums the same. He opens his can and slurps the top, tasting a sweet citrus with a small bite behind it. A spiked lemonade, he guesses. He’s never had one before, but it tastes pretty good to him. Easy to drink and won’t make him act like a clown. Bakugou gets soda. Eijirou is a responsible host.

“Quit bullying my clients, you can’t have their tattoos when they’re custom,” Eijirou says. 

Client.

That’s sobering.

“Oh come on,” she whines. “That raccoon was perfect for me.”

Raccoon? Izuku doesn’t remember seeing a raccoon. 

“No,” he says. “Oh, sorry, Katsuki, you know her, but Izuku, this is Mina. We went to middle school together.”

“Oh!” Izuku says, immediately engaged. A childhood friend, how exciting!

“How is it fair that I know everything about him, and he doesn’t even know we went to school together,” Mina frowns.

Izuku winces. He should have spent more time asking Eijirou about himself. He really did not put in enough effort here to be worthy of kissing someone this wonderful. No wonder he was repulsed.

“Next time I’ll just start from the early years and work my way up,” Eijirou says.

“As one should,” she grins. “Have you seen Kyouka? I was looking for her.”

“Oh yeah,” he stretches up over all of their heads and looks around. “Jirou, come here!”

A girl with cropped hair and enough piercings to decorate a small Christmas tree walks over, hands in her hoodie pouch, and Izuku notices the earbud cord dangling out of one of her ears, connecting to it.

“Mina was looking for you,” he says. “Oh, Izuku, this is Jirou Kyouka, our shop piercer.”

“You look very qualified,” Izuku blurts out in lieu of a greeting, face burning a deep red while half the room gets a good laugh out of it. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she smiles, soft spoken but bright beneath the surface. Izuku thinks he would like being her friend very much if he had the opportunity. “Bakugou, when are you going to let me open your ears back up.”

“When my boss gets the stick out of his ass,” he grunts.

Oh right, Izuku recalls. Bakugou used to have his ears pierced. He also has a tattoo on his back and one of his legs. He turns to Eijirou in surprise. “Did you tattoo him?”

“Yeah a couple of times,” he laughs. “Big cry baby gave me hell the whole time. Thought I was gonna have to call his momma for emotional support.”

“Oh I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass,” he says as he reaches for him.

Eijirou steps aside with a playful giggle, easily dodging his hands. “I’m just kidding, he only cried a little.”

“You’re fucking lying.”

“Izuku sat like a champ though,” he says. “You would have never guessed it was his first time.”

“Really?” Mina says, surprised. 

Izuku experiences a surge of pride he’s never felt before. The pride of being a customer worth bragging about.

“Eijirou made it easy,” Izuku admits.

“Wait, you’re the rabbit guy!” Jirou’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, that’s me, I guess,” he laughs nervously.

“That piece was so sick. Eijirou’s portfolio has always been god tier, but now people keep calling the shop all day long for him. He’s basically booked out for the rest of the year.”

“I had no idea,” Izuku says.

“Yeah, after I put the picture up on Instagram, it kinda blew up. I’ve barely had time to catch my breath, but it’s great! I love working, and some of the requests have been so crazy, it’s been really making me push myself into trying new things. I owe you big time, dude.”

Izuku smiles, happy he could help him get started here, even if he didn’t really do anything. “You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Kirishima! Where did you put your mop?”

Eijirou sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. “You guys have fun, make yourselves at home, you know the drill.”

After he leaves, Izuku and Bakugou gravitate towards Denki and Hitoshi. They apparently do not know each other, blowing Izuku’s earlier assumption completely out of the water. Hitoshi must be more social these days than he remembers him being when they were kids, but of course, people change.

They even grow too tall sometimes.

It’s a really nice party. All of Eijirou’s friends and coworkers are as nice as he is, and the only reason Izuku feels at all out of place is his own nagging worry that Eijirou doesn’t want him here. Maybe he invited him before Izuku’s birthday and forgot to cancel?

At least he didn’t seem angry that he was there. He didn’t avoid him, and he didn’t say anything cold or cruel, so Izuku forces himself to block out those thoughts and focus on the conversations around him.

These people, most of them strangers, feel like they could be family. He hopes he gets to see them again sometime, but if there’s never another chance, he won’t be surprised. He’s happy enough that he got to come here tonight, even if he hasn’t seen Eijirou at all ever since he went looking for a mop.

Please don’t be avoiding me.

Izuku ends up searching for a bathroom at some point. It’s occupied, of course, but he is more than happy to wait his turn patiently in the hall, rocking back on his heels as he tries his best to not think about rivers, waterfalls, or crashing waves.

“Izuku?”

Izuku turns around to see Eijirou down the hall behind him. Maybe he needs to use the bathroom too. It’s his apartment, so he should go first.

“Can we, uhh, talk for a minute?”

Izuku’s heart stops, and suddenly he no longer has to go. “Uhhh, sure.”

Eijirou gestures towards his bedroom, which is kind of a terrifying place for Izuku to be, but he follows him in anyway. “Sorry, it’s the only place we can get some privacy.”

“It’s fine,” Izuku swallows, and then Eijirou opens a sliding glass door behind a sheer white curtain and steps outside. “You have a balcony?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “They gave me an upgrade for the extra month I had to wait to move in.”

Izuku looks out in awe, the whole city sparkling like a blanket of stars. It’s not the high rise view some people might shell out the big bucks for, but it’s still so much nicer than just having a window or two. “Oh, wow.”

“Worth sleeping on a couch for a bit, I think.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he says. “I’d sleep on the floor for a balcony.”

Eijirou laughs, a sound Izuku didn’t think he could pull out of him anymore, and it’s almost enough to make Izuku relax.

“So,” Eijirou starts.

Never mind, relaxing is canceled. Izuku is on high alert.

“Listen, ummm, I’m sorry for what happened the other night,” he says, and it’s not what Izuku expected to hear. “I mean, I shouldn’t have reacted like that, but I, uhhh, reacted like that, and it was really not cool of me.”

Izuku looks down at his feet in regret. “No, I would say that reaction was called for. I crossed a line.”

“No, no, it wasn’t,” he says, his voice high and strained. “It’s just… oh man, this sucks. Okay, buckle up, ‘zuku, you’re about to find out how much of a baby I am.”

Izuku shakes his head, a confused line forming between his brows. “I don’t see how–.”

“No really,” he says, putting his hands together. “I, uhhh, have this weird, uhhh, rule? Thing? Where I don’t, like, hook up with dudes I’m not, like, dating even if I really, really, want to.”

Izuku blinks. “What?”

“I hate casual shit so much. I can’t do it, I mean I’m really not cut out for it, and I mean, it’s fine! It’s totally cool that other people like to do it, it’s great! I respect the hustle so much, but like me personally, when I like someone, I tend to get in too deep, and I just can’t really handle getting my feelings hurt like that.”

He takes a deep breath and rubs his face before continuing. “And okay, I mean I know I’m a tough looking dude, but I’m not, okay? I’m really not, and waking up alone because the guy you thought was into you got whatever he wanted and bailed, or, like, that weird awkward moment where you go over to their place and think everything is fine, and then they want you to leave right after? Yeah, I can’t do that, and it's totally fine that that’s, like, how people have a good time and live their best lives or whatever, but I am a crybaby, Izuku.”

“But you’re my best friend in law or whatever, and I didn’t know how I was going to get through seeing myself out and then pretending like it didn’t kind of kill me a little bit or a whole lot, probably, because I–,” he stops and gestures towards Izuku. “Okay, it would really fuck me up if that’s what it turned out what you wanted from me this whole time, I’m not gonna lie, and that’s not on you at all! That’s so normal and fine and awesome, seriously, no big deal at all, but it’s just… I love Katsuki so much, and he loves you so much, and I panicked because I thought if it happened, then Katsuki would end up losing one of us because I made my own feelings everybody else’s problem.”

Izuku lets out a shaky breath, all of the energy in his body draining out of his legs, and he’s sure if he wasn’t holding onto the balcony rail right now, he would fall right over the side.

Eijirou thought he just wanted to fool around a little and pretend like nothing happened, and that’s because Izuku tried to pretend like he could just go and do that with people.

“I wish… I could just like you a normal amount,” Eijirou says with a pained smile. “It’s okay if you think I’m pathetic for that.”

“I don’t! And I wasn’t going to–,” Izuku stops himself because telling him he wouldn’t leave in the morning is just an empty promise to someone who doesn’t know him. He’s probably heard it all before. “I don’t do hookups either. I just can’t, that was really not me at all. God, I know this looks back, you can ask Kacchan, please, he’ll vouch for me, I suck at this stuff! If I had to pick up somebody at a bar or something, I would probably burst into flames. I don’t know what I was doing back there, I think I just wanted to look like someone who could just be one of those guys, but I– I think I wanted you to like me too much so I acted like someone I’m not, I’m sorry.”

Eijirou puts his head in his hands and groans. “Oh man.”

“I shouldn’t have–,” Izuku stops himself because he can’t say he shouldn’t have kissed him. It sucked, and it was terrible, but he can’t say something like that. “I’m sorry I put you in such an uncomfortable position without talking about it with you first.”

“What would we have talked about?”

“If kissing you was okay for me to do,” he says quietly.

“I did it first.”

“To be nice. And then I read it wrong and made it weird,” Izuku says, hating himself more and more by the minute. “I hope I didn’t leave you with a bad impression of me. I feel so terrible, Eijirou. I’ve been sick to my stomach for weeks, but I couldn’t–.”

“No, you really didn’t do anything bad at all, I just hard panicked because I thought I was heading down to heartbreak town, and I’ve been losing my mind wanting to talk to you and explain myself, but I couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to say, and I hate being a coward more than anything, but I am, I’m a coward, and boy did I chicken the fuck out, dude, but then I got so busy at the shop and with moving, and I didn’t have your number, and I– didn’t want to just show up to your apartment or something. That would have been kind of creepy as shit of me.”

Izuku winces and turns away. “Ah yeah, just showing up to someone’s apartment is creepy, isn’t it.”

“I did invite you here,” Eijirou reminds him, and Izuku makes a face. “I’m glad Katsuki actually remembered to bring you. God, I would have never gotten to apologize.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, really, that was all me,” Izuku says. “I pushed myself on you, and I would do anything to make it up to you somehow.”

“No really, I’m sorry,” he says. “If I could go back for a redo of that, like, whole last part of the night, I totally would.”

“A redo,” Izuku swallows. So he wouldn’t have kissed him at all, he thinks, but he doesn’t blame him. Everything would be okay now if they hadn’t–. He exhales.

“Yeah, a redo.”

Izuku bites his lip and frowns, determined to make this count even if it hurts a little. “I want you to know that even if you never want to speak to me again, I wasn’t going to–. I mean I know there’s no reason for you to believe me, but I’m not interested in, umm, leaving after, or not being there when you wake up, or wanting you to be somewhere else, or anything like that. I kind of, umm, wanna be with you all the time, actually. It doesn’t matter to me what that means, I’m just really lucky that I got to meet you.”

Eijirou doesn’t say a word, and the rest all pours out.

“You’re really nice, and you’re easy to talk to, and you make me laugh so much that I get light headed sometimes, and you’re so talented, I would give anything to be able to do what you can do, and I’ve never seen Kacchan so comfortable around anyone before, and you’re so good, and I think I let my own dorky, infatuated tunnel vision make me misinterpret kindness for–.”

“For… what?”

Izuku looks up at him with a pitiful smile, his eyes already starting to water. Only a cruel, mean, evil person would make him say it out loud after all of this.

One of the tears makes its way out onto Izuku’s nose, and Eijirou flicks it away with his thumb. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you were off there at all.”

He turns away and blots his eye on his sleeve. “Careful, I might do it again.”

“That’s okay with me.”

Izuku sniffles and takes a breath. “You have a really nice apartment, and your friends are all so great, I’m really glad I got to meet them.”

When Eijirou doesn’t answer, Izuku looks up to see his eyes pooling too.

“I’m happy you’re here, Izuku.”

“I’m happy Kacchan brought me.”

“You have an open invitation forever,” he says. “If you like loser crybabies who overthink things and panic, I guess.”

Izuku laughs happily, tears in his eyes and heart a little lighter. He has no idea who he’s talking to here, he thinks, and Izuku hopes that one day there will be a chance to really get to know each other. “Is it okay if I do?”

“I sure hope so!”

Izuku pulls himself together and nods, finally able to breathe again. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything.”

“It’s fine, dude, you just being here means the world to me,” he says. “Really.”

“I was going to get you some tongs, but Kacchan wouldn’t take me to the store.”

“Aw man, I love tongs!” 

“That’s what I said!”

“Damn, missed out, huh,” Eijirou sucks his teeth. “Don’t know if they would have topped Denki’s toilet seat warmer though.”

“He got you a toilet seat warmer?”

“Yeah,” he laughs with a pleased nod. “It’s still in the box, but when I figure out how it works, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

“Thanks,” Izuku stifles a laugh. “Appreciate that.”

“Don’t thank me yet!”

Laughter stifling attempt failed.

He really does like Eijirou, and he knows deep down, it’s not a crush. It’s not going to go away no matter how much he tells himself he should let it go, and truthfully, Izuku doesn’t want it to. He wants to laugh like this all time, and maybe it’s worth taking the kind of risk that gets hopeful guys tossed off of balconies.

What’s one more bad decision.

“You know, someone once told me that there’s something you can give someone as a gift sometimes when you don’t have anything else,” Izuku says, hopeful, all his feelings out in the open for Eijirou to take or turn away from.

“Oh?” Eijirou steps forward and pinches Izuku’s sleeve. “And what’s that?”

Izuku raises his arms up to Eijirou’s waist, unable to look up at him anymore. “Please tell me I’m not reading this wrong again.”

And then he takes Izuku’s face in his hands, the touch ice cold from being outside for too long, but yet at the same time, it’s warm enough to soothe Izuku to the bone.

He leans down and kisses him, soft and careful at first before easing into long, warm drags of lips that Izuku pushes himself up on his toes to get more of. 

He could float away like this, light as air and heart heavy with want, but he’s anchored in place by this one person he can’t do more than hold onto. The wind blows through his clothes, but he barely registers the cold, too focused on the way his arms feel around Eijirou’s neck and how the hand pressed into his lower back nudges them both closer together.

His head tilts, and his mouth parts slightly, tasting lemonade and something a little sweeter on the tip of his tongue, and Izuku tries his best to memorize it so when he plays this over and over again in his mind later, he won’t forget a single detail.

Eijirou pulls him closer, hands wandering easily down his back, and Izuku’s heart pounds too loudly in his ears, drowning out the soft, eager puffs coming from both of their noses.

His chest tightens, and a fire builds deep in the bottom of his stomach. This is what a kiss is supposed to feel like.

“Kirishima!”

They separate from each other at once, startled apart with an embarrassed laugh shared between them. A shy gasp escapes Izuku’s lips as he comes back to the real world, lips swollen and face soaked with tears, and he doesn’t miss how Eijirou looks anything but disgusted right now. “Better let you get back to your party.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he pants, cheeks stretched round and blistered with the most blissful smile on his face. “Duty calls.”

“It’s fine.”

“Want me to make them leave?”

“No,” Izuku laughs.

“I’d do it,” he says, fanning himself. Izuku isn’t sure if he should help him or not. Or kiss him again.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he says with a bright smile, and Eijirou scrunches his nose. “You’re a good guy, Eijirou.”

“Yeah, look where that got me,” he winces. 

“That’s on me for not talking to you first.” Izuku pushes himself up on his tiptoes and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to go see what Kacchan’s up to.”

“You do that,” he says, pretending to sound serious.

Izuku smiles to himself and reaches for the handle and pulls.

And the door doesn’t budge.

He scowls and gives it a good jiggle, thinking it might be stuck from a fresh coat of paint or something, but it doesn’t at all seem to loosen.

“Eijirou.”

“What?”

“I think we’re locked out.”

“What?” Eijirou says, walking over. He gives the door a good yank, but it doesn’t move for him either. “Shit. I don’t think we can climb down from here.”

“Do you have your phone to call someone?”

Eijirou pats himself down and shakes his head. “No, I left it inside.”

Izuku digs his out of his pocket and calls Bakugou, forever grateful that he knows at least one person here at this party.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Hey, Kacchan,” Izuku laughs nervously and gives Eijirou an apologetic look. “Can you, umm, go to Eijirou’s bedroom?”

“Why?”

“We’re, ummm, locked out on the balcony.”

“The fuck are you doing out there?” Bakugou asks loud enough to be heard. Eijirou covers his face in distress.

“Uhh, talking?” Izuku tries. They did talk a lot, actually. Izuku’s mouth is raw from all the talking. So much conversation happened. 

“Uh huh.”

“Kacchan, please,” Izuku begs.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin,” Bakugou barks. “Shut up.”

Izuku hangs up the phone and turns to Eijirou seriously. “I don’t think you should close the door when you’re out here by yourself.”

“Yeah, sorry, but I’m really glad we figured that out now and not later,” he laughs.

“Me too,” Izuku says, rubbing his arms. “It’s kind of cold out here, isn’t it?”

Eijirou gives him a look, but then Bakugou opens the door and immediately gives them an earful for getting themselves locked outside.

“New apartment, bro, I’m still figuring shit out.”

“Yeah, yeah, and what’s Deku doing out here?” Bakugou raises an eyebrow.

“Inspecting,” Izuku says. “Looks good to me!”

“You got locked out, dumbass.”

“Which was discovered during my very thorough inspection,” Izuku says.

“Very thorough,” Eijirou nods.

“Can I use your bathroom? I’m gonna go do that,” Izuku says, and then he hurries off to safety. This is so embarrassing, he’s never going to survive it.

Izuku takes a few moments to gather himself before heading back out into the rest of the party. He sticks with Bakugou again, and it’s the right move because Bakugou somehow manages to secure sole custody of the couch.

It’s so nice to sit down and catch his breath, his body still buzzing all over from the best, most wonderful kiss of his life. He’s going to be feeling this for a solid month.

Someone finds a game of Twister in one of the boxes, and Mina and Denki battle to death over their pride and flexibility until someone’s foot almost takes out one of the side tables, and then Twister gets banned, and Izuku says a small prayer for Eijirou’s poor apartment. 

His friends are a vortex of chaos, and it’s the most entertaining event Izuku’s watched in ages.

“I gotta piss,” Bakugou ditches him, and Izuku is left alone and vulnerable to the whims of the rest of the guests. This is where he wishes he knew more than four people, but maybe no one will want to talk him.

“Mind if I sit here?” Eijirou says as he takes Bakugou’s place.

“No, not at all.”

“Playing host is a lot of work,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“Seems like you’re doing a pretty great job to me,” Izuku smiles.

“Does it?” 

His eyes flicker over Izuku’s face, and Izuku’s breath catches. Izuku wants to kiss him again, but it’s probably not a good idea with all of these people around, but god does he really want to. He wants to reach out and touch him, and pull him to his mouth, and keep him all to himself, but he doesn’t think anyone here is interested in seeing that. At least he hopes they’re not.

No, he forces himself to turn away before he breaks, ignoring the pull of Eijirou’s gaze still on him because Midoriya Izuku is a gentleman and will not ravage someone on a couch at a party in front of a room full of people. He has manners or something.

Bakugou comes back to sit down, and with one hop, Eijirou slides himself over to Izuku’s side so Bakugou can’t wedge himself between them again. Izuku tries not to laugh. Subtlety might not be Eijirou’s thing.

The arm around his shoulders is warm and feels like it belongs there. Eijirou continues juggling his host duties, managing to hold three different conversations at once, and Izuku settles in next to him like he belongs there too.

No one gives them any funny looks, if they notice them at all, and Izuku relaxes enough to let his hand rest on Eijirou’s leg, curled up into a tight fist, but still there, nonetheless.

A noise catches his eye on the other side of the apartment, and Izuku turns his head to see what it was, and while he’s not looking, he feels a soft peck placed quickly on his cheek.

He turns back, surprised, but Eijirou is looking in the opposite direction. Izuku clears his throat, and Eijirou glances at him innocently.

“What?”

“Did you–?”

“Did I… what?” Eijirou smiles. Izuku forces back his own amusement and looks away, and Eijirou does it again. “Sorry.”

“You’re gonna make me sick,” Bakugou says from the cushion next to them.

“Sorry,” they both mutter.

“Fuckin’ idiots.”

“That’s on me,” Eijirou half sings and leans over Izuku to reach his drink on the side table. Izuku doesn’t comment on the host having an apple juice box at his own party, but maybe that’s just because he’s actually more Izuku’s type than he realized. So that’s what Izuku tasted earlier. “If you’re thirsty or hungry or anything, help yourself, by the way. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I’m okay where I am,” Izuku says, studying his face from how close he is now. 

He wonders what would happen if they were alone right now, if suddenly everyone went home and left them here for the night. If he could have him all to himself without anyone to pull either of them away.

He could probably ask him to send everyone home, but Izuku isn’t that kind of guy, even if kicking out a full apartment load of people so he can kiss Eijirou again is kind of fun to think about. Exciting even.

It’s funny, but for the first time in his life, Izuku isn’t the least bit nervous or worried, but with Eijirou there’s never been a reason to be.

“I’m happy to hear that, Izuku.”

“Did I say any of that out loud?”

The corner of his mouth tugs slightly, and his nostrils twitch. “I don’t think I should answer that.”

Izuku puts his hands to his mouth in horror. “Oh, shoot.”

“Nah, I told you I like it,” he says with a friendly nudge. “I don’t have to try to figure out if you’re bullshitting me or not.”

“I’m not,” he pouts. “I’m really not.”

“Can you two please go do this anywhere else,” Bakugou huffs. “Like not in front of me, you fuckin’ weirdos.”

“Bro, don’t sit here then,” Eijirou screeches, face burning about as hot as Izuku’s is. 

Bakugou frowns and settles into the sofa and folds his arms over his chest. “It’s comfortable here.”

“Yeah it is,” Izuku says.

It’s really comfortable, actually.




Bakugou and Izuku have to leave soon after, both still expected to go to work early in the morning because it’s still the middle of the week, and Izuku can’t exactly ask Bakugou to stay up any longer past his bedtime than he already has, even if he does want to stay with Eijirou.

But he can’t stay with him. He has to go back home to his own apartment and go back to the real world where snuggling up on the couch with someone wonderful is just something to wish for.

Bakugou’s car is cold tonight.

They pull up to Izuku’s building, and Bakugou cuts the engine. Izuku doesn’t have to guess why.

“Tell Shouto I said we’re doing Saturday breakfast again this weekend,” Izuku says. 

“Tell him yourself,” he says, and Izuku rolls his head over the back of the carseat and gives him a knowing look. Bakugou scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“You two are so good together.”

“Yeah, and what do you know about it,” he barks. 

“You love him don’t you,” he asks, and Bakugou’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Kacchan, I’m serious.”

He looks down and pulls his collar up over his chin. “What’s it matter if I do or not? Doesn't change anything. He’s still a dumbass bastard, and he pisses me off.”

“And he loves you so much. God, you two could have everything if you just let whatever happened go, and it’s stupid right? Like no one really did anything wrong, you’re both just like this, I know you. Do you have any idea how lucky you are,” Izuku says, frustrated. “If two people like each other that much, they should just be together and let themselves be happy. You don’t have to make it suck just because you’re scared.”

“Tch. Who’s scared?!”

“You are,” Izuku says. “Don’t get mad at me, I’ve kept my mouth shut this whole time because I love you both, but you like Shouto so much you keep starting these stupid fights with him so if he decides he doesn’t like you anymore, you get to say you did it on purpose.”

Bakugou’s eyes fly open wide, face red with rage, but Izuku isn’t scared of him. 

“And it’s not going to happen. Shouto doesn’t give a shit about any of it, he’s always liked you just how you are,” he almost shouts. “And you really care about him. Don’t pretend like you don’t when you clearly do, and I want you two to get over whatever this is so we can all be friends again. I miss you both so much, and I want my fucking Saturdays back.”

Bakugou blinks at him a few times, and Izuku sinks into his seat with a huff.

“What?”

“Okay, potty mouth.”

Izuku looks at him and frowns.

“I said okay,” Bakugou says. “But you better not make something shitty if I gotta get out of bed and come all the way over here on my day off. Feast for a king or I’m kicking your fucking loser ass.”

“I won’t let you down,” Izuku grins.

“Now get out of my car.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just walk up together.”

“I said get out, nerd.”

“Fine, fine,” Izuku says, unbuckling himself so he can leave.

“I’m tired as shit and going home to my own house. Alone,” Bakugou grumbles. “Tell Half and Half yourself, I don’t give a shit if he shows up or not.”

“Okay, Kacchan. See you Saturday.”

Notes:

sorry i had to split part three in half, my phone really doesn’t like drafting/editing docs over like 12k :(

Chapter 4

Notes:

SO this is the fluff chapter I tried my best to reel if in so that we wouldn’t all need to go to the dentist, but I can only do so much when it’s the sunshine boys 😭 HOPE YOU ENJOY THO!!!

and if you don’t like fluff i’m sorry this is who i am please forgive me for my soft clown crimes

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Izuku barely slept a wink all night waiting for Saturday morning to come.

It’s been at least a month, maybe two since the three of them were last in the same room together, and honestly this could go either one of two ways. Either Shouto and Bakugou see each other and make up the easy way, or they get it all out of their systems right here in Izuku’s living room.

He’s fully prepared emotionally and mentally for either result.

As long as they both show up…

Izuku gets a head start, fulfilling his promise to Bakugou that he would make a feast for a king, and he’s in the middle of cutting up a stalk of green onions when his front door opens.

Shouto walks in and not in his pajamas. Izuku doesn’t point out the sleek, form fitting turtleneck he’s slipped himself into or the little spritz of cologne he splashed on before coming over, but man does it make him a little too happy to see him here like this again.

“You came,” Izuku says, and maybe his eyes water a little when he says it. Maybe he doesn’t feel like apologizing for that.

“I can’t remember ever turning down one of your invitations,” Shouto says, but Izuku throws his arms around his chest anyway. He tips a little, awkward and stiff and not great with hugs, but he pats Izuku on the back in acceptance all the same, and Izuku squeezes him a little harder. “Izuku.”

“What?”

“I think something’s burning.”

“Right,” Izuku lets go and hurries back to the kitchen. It’s just a couple slices of spam he forgot he was crisping up, but now it seems that his attempt at crisping has become a little bit crematorial. He pulls the smoldering pan off of the eye and blows the smoke off of the top. Oops.

Shouto comes in behind him and peels one of the pieces off with just his fingers. How he never burns himself, Izuku will never know.

“Do you need help?”

“No thanks, I got this,” he says with a bright smile. This may have deducted some of his dependability points for the day, but so what if he’s a little rusty? It’s been ages since he last made more than instant ramen. “I have the show you like recorded.”

Shouto bites off the corner of the charred piece of spam and raises his eyebrows. “The cats?”

“Yep! Got the whole season if you wanna put that on.”

“Okay,” he nods with a small smile. “I’ll go straighten up then.”

“Is my apartment that messy?” Izuku asks as he looks over his shoulder, concerned. Sure there are a few discarded jackets, a couple of stray notebooks, and some plates he hasn’t washed yet, but it’s not anything they haven’t seen before.

“Only lived in.”

Shouto walks away towards the living room and scoops up the clothes from the floor with one hand and the forgotten tea cups with the other.

“Shouto, please do not clean my apartment for me,” he whines, and then he hears the big cats in the wild documentary series turn on and gives up. If that’s how he wants to occupy his time until the food is ready,   Izuku won’t (or can’t) stop him.

“Where is the dusting spray?”

“Please, just be a guest here or something.”

“I cannot.”

“You can try.”

“There’s dust, Izuku.”

Izuku groans and squeezes his eyes shut in defeat. “Under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

Soon the apartment smells like a mixture of burnt spam and citrus surface cleaner, but it’s kind of the best. Saturday mornings have been Izuku’s favorite part of the week for years, and to finally have one again after all this time? How could he find anything to complain about?

There’s a knock at the door, and Izuku frowns because if Bakugou’s not using his key, that means he might be gearing up to make some kind of a scene, like acting like being here is a chore, or pretending like he’s been shoved out of the group for not living in the building with them, or something else absolutely ridiculous and not true, and Izuku really can’t take anymore fighting. 

Even if they stick to opposite sides of the apartment and Izuku has to spend the whole morning walking back and forth between them, Izuku needs them both here. Together. It’s what he deserves after all this waiting.

He pats his hands dry on his daddy’s got buns apron and goes to answer the door, bracing himself for a loud, angry man, who he loves dearly, to shove him out of the way and barrel through the room after Shouto. It’s always good to be prepared.

He opens the door, sees who’s standing on the other side, and then slams it shut as quickly as possible. He yanks the apron up over his neck and tosses it to Shouto.

“Hide this,” he shrieks. Shouto stuffs it between the couch cushions, and Izuku waves his hands in distress. “Not like that!”

“Deku, what the fuck?!”

Izuku opens the door and forces a calm, polite smile even as the scream trapped in his throat makes his ears ring. “Sorry, there was a spider.”

Bakugou gives him one incredulous glare before walking past him into the apartment. At least he remembers how to let himself in, Izuku concedes.

“Whatever,” he says. “What’d you burn?”

“Nothing,” he says before turning back towards the reason he slammed the door shut in the first place. “Hi.”

Eijirou puts his hands together and shrinks himself. “He made me come with him, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s great,” Izuku almost shouts. Or screeches, rather. “I’m really happy you’re here!”

“I can le–.”

“No, no, please! Come in! Stay!”

Izuku grabs him by the arm (oh, that’s nice) and pulls him inside. This is definitely a change from the usual (old?) Saturday morning breakfast routine, but he thinks he can work with this. Yes, this is great, actually. Four is a wonderful number. Now no one will be left out of the conversation!

“Why the fuck are you cleaning,” Bakugou says, and they all turn to see Shouto standing in the middle of the living room with a rag in hand.

“It was dusty.”

Bakugou yanks his coat off and tosses it over the couch. Izuku would have taken that for him… “For fucks sake, Deku, where’s your broom.”

“In the closet, what are you–?”

“I got it,” he says and stomps off.

Izuku turns to Eijirou and looks at him seriously. “Please do not clean my apartment.”

“I’m getting mixed signals here,” he laughs.

“I’m so sorry, my friends are weird.”

“Who the fuck are you calling weird, Daddy,” Bakugou tuts with the broom in hand. “Maybe if you dusted your nasty ass apartment, we wouldn’t have to.”

“Maybe if you came over more, it wouldn’t get dusty,” Izuku says, and Bakugou’s mouth thins. “Yeah, no, I got it, I’ll clean my own apartment from now on. Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes and stalks off, annoyed already. It’s barely 10 o’clock…

But where are Izuku’s manners?

“Sorry, uhh Shouto, this is Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan’s old roommate,” Izuku says, taking care of a couple of necessary and important introductions. “Eijirou, this is Kacchan’s– uhhh…”

“Boyfriend,” Shouto says, like shattering glass wouldn’t have been startling enough for him. Izuku holds his breath, and Eijirou physically tenses, expecting the worst.

Bakugou looks at them all and scowls. “What? Something funny about that?”

“Uhhh, no, that’s great!” Eijirou says. “I didn’t realize you two were back together.”

He then looks at Izuku for confirmation that he didn’t just say something out of line, and Izuku shrugs because he doesn’t know either.

“We’re not,” they both say.

“Oh. Alright. Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, uhhh, I don’t know your family name, sorry.”

“Todoroki, but Shouto is fine.”

“Eijirou,” he nods. “Wow, how did you get your hair split down the middle like that? There’s no bleeding or fading at all.”

“I was struck by lightning when I was a baby.”

“Dude!” Eijirou gasps. “Are you serious?!

“Will you shut the fuck up,” Bakugou says to Shouto before turning to Eijirou, his face twisted up in disbelief. “No, he was not.”

“All of Shouto’s siblings have red and white hair,” Izuku explains. “His is the only one split down the middle like this though.”

“That’s so cool,” he says in awe. “I’ve never seen a family like that before.”

“My parents both have strong genes, I guess,” Shouto says.

“The eye thing is real too,” Izuku offers. “In case you were wondering.”

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “That’s so awesome, dude, what the fuck.”

Shouto offers a small smile, usually not a fan of having his appearance pointed out, but Eijirou’s enthusiasm is infectious. Izuku was right to think that they would get along.

“You just got here and you’re already trying to get bad dye job tips from the local asshole,” Bakugou tuts.

“Do you have any idea how hard red is to keep up, bro? My shower looks like a crime scene,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “How was I supposed to know his was natural?”

“No one told you to go off and do that to yourself.”

“I like it,” Izuku says. “The red, I mean.”

Eijirou smiles brightly, showing off his gorgeous teeth. “See, Izuku likes it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and looks away, pausing once he notices the television. “Is this that cat show?”

“Izuku has the first season recorded.”

“Oh hell yeah,” he says, plopping down on the couch. “Quit cleaning, you’re gonna miss the good stuff.”

Shouto puts his rag on the table and sits down next to him, and the fact that they’re sitting together and not on opposite ends of the furniture makes Izuku want to cry.

Bakugou takes his fingers and flicks Shouto’s hair out of his eyes, a gesture too fond for them in their current state. “You’re so fucking stupid, I swear to god.”

He could watch them like this all day, but this is something that might be considered a private moment.

“I probably need to finish cooking,” Izuku says awkwardly, now that everyone’s inside and watching a cat documentary. “Sorry…”

“No, no! It’s fine! Don’t worry about a thing, I’m cool hanging out with them.”

“If you need a lid or something to use as a shield, please let me know.”

“Will do,” he laughs.

Izuku walks into the kitchen and says a silent thank you to Shouto for straightening up his apartment for him when he came over. A warning might have been nice too, but it’s the thought that counts.

Bakugou must have told him before they came. Maybe they even planned this together.

He’s got good friends. The best in the whole world, actually.

He resumes cooking, grateful that Bakugou threatened him into making a feast because he’s pretty confident that he has plenty of food for four people here. Although, making breakfast for someone who isn’t Shouto and Bakugou is kind of nerve wracking, especially when it’s someone he likes this much, but Izuku thinks he’s up to the task.

But regardless of his nerves and any worries that a fight might break out, the fact that they’re all there behind him makes him happier than he can ever explain. His apartment has been so quiet lately.

“Do you need any help?”

“I think I’ve got it,” Izuku says over his shoulder.

“Oh, alright,” Eijirou says.

“But I would like some company, if you’re available.”

“Oh yeah, all yours,” he laughs, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets and leans forward. “So… Kacchan’s old roommate, huh?”

Izuku looks down at his tomatoes and winces. “I wasn’t sure if friend was specific enough. Shouto likes details.”

Eijirou leans against the counter next to him and cranes his neck to see Izuku’s face. “Not what I was talking about.”

“Oh,” he flushes.

“It’s fine, I get it,” he straightens back up, voice light and casual. “No big deal or anything.”

“I kind of… learned my lesson about making assumptions without talking about them first.”

Eijirou hums and nods. “That’s fair.”

Izuku’s face twists in distress, and he gives Eijirou a pitiful look. He’s never going to get over acting like an idiot in the van, and they’re both just going to have to live with that. He’s going to need more clarity than probably anyone else Eijirou’s ever dated, and that might get annoying for him after a while.

“So how do you wanna talk about this,” he flashes a smile.

Izuku covers his cheeks with his hands and shakes his head. “Oh that’s so scary, I can’t.”

“Yeah, I’m playing it cool right now, but saying that out loud kinda makes me wanna throw up a little bit,” he admits. “And not in a bad way, I mean, but like in a crazy ass roller coaster kinda way.”

Izuku laughs and nods. “No, I get it, me too. Yeah that’s… wow.”

“Yeah,” he takes a breath. “We can be… friends, right?”

Izuku looks up at him to see his face. “We can be.”

“I wanna be your friend, Izuku.”

“You have a lot of friends,” he says. “That would be nice.”

Eijirou looks off and scrunches his nose. “Not that kind.”

“Oh,” Izuku says quietly with a soft smile.

“I wish I was better at this stuff,” he laughs. “I’m trying dude, I swear.”

“It’s fine, me too,” Izuku says, and then he decides that he has to be brave right now. He has to take another risk and hope for the best because clarity for them could mean everything. Not just for himself. “Eijirou?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I buy you lunch?”

“Oh, uhhh,” he blinks in surprise. “Like after this? I kinda have to go to work…”

“No,” Izuku laughs and shakes his head. “I mean some other time, I don’t know. Whenever you’re free or something. If you want.”

Eijiirou makes a confused face and scratches his head. “I mean we usually just eat at the shop whenever someone can go make a food run.”

“He’s trying to ask you out, dumbass,” Bakugou says.

They both turn to see Bakugou and Shouto shoulder to shoulder staring at them from over the back of the couch like a couple of nosy children.

“Go away,” Izuku whispers, mortified.

They do not.

“Lunch sounds great,” Eijirou says.

He turns to him quickly, eyes wide in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“Great,” Izuku says, happy enough to cry.

“They’re still watching us.”

“I know.”

“Are they like this all the time?”

Izuku sighs fondly. “You get used to it.”

“Do you?”

“Nope.”

“You talkin’ shit in there?!”

“No,” they say at the same time.

“I should probably go sit with them so they quit staring, huh,” Eijirou grimaces.

“If you want,” he says. “I mean, I’m fine in here. I can hear you guys and everything, I won’t feel left out or anything.

Eijirou hums and nods. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” Izuku says, determined. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

He kisses Izuku on the temple before leaving, and it sends Izuku’s whole nervous system into disarray. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed, and is really grateful that no one heard the spatula in his hand snap in half. Or land into the crepe mix.

If this is what being Eijirou’s friend is like, he isn’t sure how he’ll survive the full upgrade.

He looks back to see the three of them interacting comfortably and having a great time together and thinks that he is really happy to have his Saturdays back.



Breakfast together is nice. Somehow Izuku pulls off a full meal with only one and a half accidents, and he gets to confidently say that all of his favorite people are happy and fed.

Eijirou stays as long as he can, but he does eventually have to leave to go to the shop. Saturdays are always busy days for them, and Izuku would never want to get in the way of Eijirou’s work, especially now that he’s doing so well here.

They walk down together because maybe those extra five minutes are going to be what Izuku needs to get through a whole day of missing him now that missing him isn’t supposed to hurt, and he makes sure to wish him luck with good customers and fun tattoos and no back pain.

“Oh, I’m like the worst because I just thought about this, but can you get my number out of Katsuki’s phone and text me? It’s under Shitty Hair.”

“I can do that,” he laughs. “See ya!”

Izuku goes back inside with a goofy smile plastered across his face, but luckily neither Shouto nor Bakugou say anything about it.

It’s been a long time since he last had someone to be this happy about, and it really feels good this time. There’s no apprehension at all, and even if this full speed ahead kind of dating he might be tiptoeing towards gets him in trouble, he can’t say he wasn’t prepared for it going in.

He has to go for it, though. It doesn’t take a genius to see when something is once in a lifetime and that he’ll never find a guy quite like Eijirou ever again.

Izuku sits on the chair next to the sofa to give them some room and joins them for the nature show. It’s hard to concentrate on the lions and tigers when his heart is drumming so loud in his ears, but it’s so nice that his distraction this time is from being happy and not from wallowing away in despair.

Bakugou stretches and yawns loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Since he drove me here, one of you idiots has to take me home.”

“Oh,” Izuku sits up. Of course, Eijirou was the ride. He watched him drive away himself.

Shouto turns to him, calm and unreadable, and Izuku holds his breath. “I’ll take you.”

Bakugou’s eyes flicker over him, challenging and appraising. “You sure about that, Half and Half?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

 

Izuku is more than delighted by the fact that he doesn’t hear from either of them for the rest of the weekend. He would like to know where to send flowers though.





Messaging Eijirou is something to get used to, Izuku quickly learns. Replies often come after hours of waiting because he doesn’t stop when he’s working with a client, which Izuku is one hundred percent okay with, don’t get him wrong, but it can make their conversations a tad bit confusing, especially when Izuku has already forgotten what they were talking about by the time he answers.

It’s also strange at first that the goodnight messages he wakes up to sometimes come two or three hours before he wakes up in the morning, but then again it’s nice that when he can’t sleep, Eijirou is often just getting in after work and happy to keep him company, so Izuku doesn’t have any reason to feel guilty for keeping him up.

It’s fun, though. It’s just as fun as being with him in person.

Eijirou sends him pictures of the tattoo sketches he’s working on and asks Izuku for his opinion, but Izuku is useless because he likes everything Eijirou draws, and Izuku gives Eijirou workplace drama updates because Eijirou swears he’s invested, even if there’s no reason for him to be. Today someone took Izuku’s project manager’s lunch and threw it in the trash.

Eijirou: omfg no way

Izuku: 😭 dumped it top down and everything so it couldn’t be saved

Eijirou: nooooo

Eijirou: was it you 👀 

Izuku: PLEASE i’m trying to make a living here

Eijirou: i dunnoooo you look like the kinda guy who would sabotage an authority figure to me 😏 

Izuku: 😭 it wasn’t me!!!!! i swear i’m innocent!!!!

Eijirou: mhmmm that’s what all the criminals say

Izuku: eijiiii :C 💔 

Eijirou: OOF right in the chest meat

Izuku: chest meat 😭 

Eijirou: hey i’ve got someone coming in in five and i still need to clean my station so i gotta make this quick - you busy friday?

Izuku: no i don’t think so why

Eijirou: (*´-`)

Eijirou: i would like to go on a date please

Izuku: OH

Izuku drops his phone and almost flips his chair backwards, but he somehow manages to contain his little heart attack to the confines of his cubicle. 

A date?!

Eijirou: or did i read that wrong 👀 

Izuku: no you didn’t 🙈 

Izuku: are you sure??? 

Eijirou: yeah i mean i was 😭 did you change your mind?

Izuku: NO!!! oh god no way i’m just surprised

Izuku: i wanna go out with you…

Eijirou: nice! :3 what time do you get off i’ll pick you up

Izuku: friday?

Eijirou: yeah o.o

Izuku: isn’t that a big night for you???

Eijirou: yeah but like ok i wanna do one normal date night with you while i can and then we can work out the rest later if that’s ok

Izuku has another small heart attack over the potential for more dates, but he doesn’t bother telling Eijirou that.

Eijirou: tbh i had a cancellation so this is our best shot 😬 

Izuku: are you sure? :s

Eijirou: absolutely you are soooooo gonna hate me when i never take another friday or saturday night off again 😔 

Izuku: i could never i don’t mind not having normal date nights

Izuku: except for this one

Eijirou: thank you you’re the best i’m gonna bake you a cake

Izuku: PLEASE 😭 

Eijirou: shit gotta go client’s here

Izuku: GOOD LUCK!! ❤️ 

Izuku puts his forehead on his desk and muffles a scream into his arm. He has a date with Eijirou this Friday night. A real date. A date. With Eijirou.

How is he supposed to get through this unsupervised?





Before Izuku knows it, it’s Friday night, and that means it's date night, and it kind of hits him that this is really a date and not just a two-man hangout session. It’s been a long time since Izuku went out on one of these, and he’s not quite sure how he’s supposed to do it, but considering how well pretending that he knows how to do these things went for him last time, he decides that it might be best to just enjoy himself and see where the night takes him without any presumptions.

He changes out of his work clothes into something nicer yet more comfortable, wondering if he should have pillaged Shouto’s closet for something more appropriate for a date, but he doesn’t think Eijirou minds his sweaters that much. He’s at least never laughed at them, which is more than Izuku can say about several of his friends.

He brushes his teeth three times because he keeps forgetting if he did it already or not, and he tries his best to tame his hair, but he eventually gives up before he accidentally makes it greasy.

He might not be cut out for this, but there’s no way he’s canceling. He wants this too much, and Eijirou was so nice to ask him and take off of work for this that Izuku couldn’t bear letting him down. No, he’s just going to have to suck it up and try to enjoy himself.

 

Eijirou comes up to his apartment to pick him up. His hair is pulled back tonight, and he has a leather jacket over the red hoodie Izuku saw in the old goodbye photo, and he’s kind of the dream boyfriend, if he was Izuku’s boyfriend, that is.

“Sorry, I, uhhh, just left the shop,” he spreads his arms out for emphasis, like he isn’t perfect. “I didn’t wanna make you wait.”

“Are you tired? Do you just wanna rest for the night?”

“No, no way,” he waves. “We’re going out, I mean, unless you don’t want to…”

“I want to,” Izuku says, feeling shy for saying so. He wonders how long he can keep this up before Eijirou announces that he doesn’t actually like him and that he was just being nice because Izuku is Bakugou’s friend. It doesn’t stop him from hoping that he won’t, though.

“Great!” Eijirou smiles, big and bright. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing! What should we do here, how do normal dates work?”

Izuku laughs, honestly relieved. “Okay, so a normal date night, right? That’s what we’re going for?”

“Yup,” he nods. “Only the best this one time.”

“How does dinner and a movie sound? That’s pretty normal, isn’t it?”

“I would say that that sounds like something that people who go on dates would do, yes,” he nods, and Izuku laughs. It kind of makes him a little happy that Eijirou either doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing either or is just pretending not to for Izuku’s sake. Izuku is kind of a sucker for figuring things out together as a team, or something. “I can do that, but, uhhh, man, useless Eijirou time, but I literally just moved back, and I don’t know what’s good to eat around here anymore. They turned my favorite takoyaki place into a shoe store, so you’re gonna have to be in charge tonight.”

Izuku hums and scratches his chin. Where should they eat? Somewhere expensive and fancy with candles on the table? A street vendor so they can walk around and enjoy the night? One of those Instagram foodie spots so Eijirou can add something cool to his profile? What’s… them?

“Okay, actually I lied. Is that place we went to for your birthday a special events only kind of deal or what?”

Izuku laughs happily. “No, it’s definitely fair game.”

“Just checking,” his eyes shift.

“Hey, why don’t we go to that place we went to for my birthday?”

“Sure, if you insist.”

Eijirou spins on his heels, and Izuku has to take a few quick steps to catch up with him, wondering the whole time where his own surprise growth spurt went. He slows down for him, and when Izuku takes Eijirou’s hand for the walk to the car, he doesn’t stiffen or pull away, and it kind of starts to feel like he’s really on a date with a guy he likes who actually likes him back.

Because he is, isn’t he?

That’s exactly what this is.

Izuku sees Eijirou’s car in the distance and feels a surge of excitement. They’re not really going anywhere, but just seeing it activates Izuku’s little lizard brain that’s now chanting adventure? somewhere in the back of his mind. This is a car that screams potential, and when Izuku climbs into it for the second time, he doesn’t at all think about how he flung himself out of it last time. Nope, not one bit.

Eijirou gets in on the other side and offers him a bright smile. “Ready to go?”

Izuku relaxes. Everything is fine now. There’s no reason to feel bad or to run and hide again. Eijirou wants him here, and he wants to be here.

“I’m ready.”

“Okey dokey,” he says as he starts the engine. “All aboard the Eijirou Express! Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and feel free to come to your conductor for any and all of your transportation requests and needs. I am here for you specifically.”

Izuku covers his mouth and laughs. “I think I’m good, thank you.”

“Oh,” he goes back to a normal voice and Izuku sits up in case this is serious. “Do what you want with the radio or the heater or whatever. I don’t care.”

Nope, not serious. 

“I’m fine, unless you need music to drive.”

“I do not, but thanks for considering me.”

Izuku buckles himself in and settles down into the seat as they drive away. He loves this car. He doesn’t usually enjoy long car rides, but he thinks he could go anywhere in Eijirou’s. Surely the driver has nothing to do with that at all.

He notices an air freshener tree hanging from the mirror and holds back a smile. That’s not something he should probably think is as cute as he does, but he can’t help it. He likes him, and he has yet to come across anything he wouldn’t like that Eijirou does.

Fortunately, Eijirou doesn’t mind being stared at because Izuku doesn’t take his eyes off of him for the whole ride to the restaurant. It’s not his fault. As much as he tries, he just can’t look away from him.

“They made up.”

Eijirou’s eyes widen, still focused on the road ahead, but immediately interested. “What? When?”

“After you left,” he says. “Or maybe before, that part isn’t clear, but they spent the whole weekend together, and Shouto didn’t come by my apartment at all this week.”

He glances at him quickly with a raised brow. “Are things okay with you?”

“Oh! Yeah, I thought the same thing, so I went over there last night, and the apartment was empty,” he says, and Eijirou for some reason finds something about that really funny. “He’s definitely been staying with Kacchan.”

“You sure he’s not just with his family? You said he’s got a lot of siblings or something.”

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “Positive. Not for more than one day. He’s with Kacchan.”

“Amazing,” he smiles. “Dude, I’m so happy for them.

“Me too.”

“Wonder what got them to make up,” he frowns in thought. 

“No idea,” Izuku sighs. “Will probably never know, but that’s okay. Nature is healing.”

Eijirou snorts. “For sure.”

The restaurant is crowded tonight, but they manage to find a small table just big enough for two people next to the kitchen. It’s loud, but Izuku’s never gotten to see how much coordination goes into making donburi before. It’s fascinating.

“I love this place,” Izuku says. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees. “Reminds me of eating at my moms’ house.”

“Right? That’s why it’s my favorite.”

“I’m glad we came then.”

“Maybe on one of your days off, if you’re not too tired, the four of us can come together sometime,” Izuku offers.

“Oh yeah, that would be awesome,” Eijirou sits up. “Is it okay if I join you guys?”

“Please,” he laughs. “It would make me really happy if you did, to be honest. If you want to, of course, but it would be fun, I think.”

“Yeah! We should then, that would be great.”

Every reminder that they’ll be seeing each other more, and going on more dates, and spending time together with their friends, and just kind of acting like they’re together, makes Izuku’s heart swell.

He shouldn’t be surprised that they manage to talk nonstop until their food gets to the table, but he doesn’t think this is something he’ll ever really get used to. He likes it, though. A lot.

They ordered the same exact bowls as they did for Izuku’s birthday, but this time there’s a lot more sharing and tasting and considering if they should try something else the next time they come.

He’s never regretted finishing a meal so fast in his life.

The next stop is the movie theater. Izuku is dangerously full, but he doesn’t say a word about it. He is happy that they’re going to be sitting still for a couple of hours and not going somewhere where he’d be expected to move, though.

He quietly thanks Eijirou for not wanting to go clubbing tonight. He can’t imagine dancing like this. He can’t imagine himself clubbing at all, actually, but that’s neither here nor there.

They step inside, and Izuku is hit with a new surge of excitement because finally, finally he can have his question answered. After all of these weeks of wondering, he finally gets to ask Eijirou the one thing he wants to know the most.

“So what kind of movies do you like?”

Eijirou hums and looks around at all the posters on the walls in thought. Of course this is a question that requires some deep consideration. Izuku is willing to wait. “Anything with a happy ending.”

“Good answer,” Izuku nods. He likes that. That leaves them plenty of options for genres and general variety. He thinks he can work with that. “Okay, do you know if any of these have a happy ending?”

“Nope!”

“Me neither! So I guess we can either look them up online first, or we can guess by the posters?”

“Hmmm, well personally, I think that Kingdom of Skulls: Where The Blood Spills looks promising.”

Izuku holds onto him as he laughs too hard for such a crowded place, but he doesn’t care who looks at them. He’s happy.

Eijirou grabs Izuku’s elbows, not at all bothered by him. “Oh if you think that’s funny, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

He’s never liked someone this much, he realizes. Of everyone he’s ever talked to, or dated, or admired from a distance, he’s never felt anything quite this intense or overwhelming before but in such a wonderful way. He hates that there are so many people here, wishing quietly that they were in a private space just for them instead where he could burst into a million pieces like he’s in danger of doing now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eijirou says.

“Like what?”

“Like you–,” he starts, stopping himself to swallow hard enough for Izuku to see. “Okay, you can keep looking.”

“Thank you.”

He lets out a loud wistful sight and smiles. “God, Izuku.”

“What?”

He pulls him closer and takes his head into his hands. “I’m crazy about you, dude, what the fuck.”

Izuku makes a small noise and hides his face against his chest, sliding his arms around him to keep himself from falling over. He doesn’t think they’ve ever really said it out loud, both preferring to hint and allude, but it’s okay. It’s too hard, too scary.

Eijirou rests his chin on Izuku’s head and exhales, holding him close and not saying a word about Izuku’s overwhelmed state or the fact that he didn’t exactly say it back. “So what do you think? Should we just pick something or would you rather stand here for a couple of hours because I’m totally fine either way.”

“Standing here is good.”

Eijirou laughs brightly and squeezes him. “Alright.”

“Okay,” Izuku takes a breath and pulls away. “My vote is for The Slug Wars.”

“You have questionable taste,” he says proudly.

Izuku nods once. “Why, thank you.”

“Any particular reason? Or are we just going with the first poster we saw when we walked through the door.”

“The first poster we saw when we walked through the door.”

“Sweet,” he says. “Alright let me–.”

“I got it,” Izuku says quickly.

“Wait, no, bro, I asked you–.”

“And,” he says, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls out his wallet and slips out a small black card from behind one of his credit cards. “I work at a company with weird perks I never get to use.”

“Oh?”

“Such as free movie vouchers for people who go on normal dates or something.” Izuku says. “Probably. Maybe with spouses or like kids or something, I don’t think they actually care who I use these on.”

“Oh my god, we’re being sponsored,” Eijirou gasps. “I like it. You sure that’s okay? Using up your sweet ass corporate perks on this?”

“Oh, do you want me to use them with someone else?” Izuku blinks.

“Nope,” he swings his arms around his. “Hook us up, Mr. Movie Card Man.”

“Right this way,” Izuku gestures.



They pretty much have the whole theater to themselves, surprise surprise. How no one else wanted to see The Slug Wars is a complete and total mystery which they are both absolutely baffled by.

“You have excellent taste, Izuku,” he says. “I take back what I said before.”

“I can spot an empty theater a mile away.”

“God, what a gift,” he says. “You go to the movies a lot?”

“Not that much anymore,” he admits. “I mean I used to come by myself when I was younger like every week, but I just don’t have time anymore.”

“Wow,” he says. “Not a bad way to spend a Friday night.”

“Especially when it’s on the company,” he laughs.

“Of course. Is that why you wanted to do this?”

Izuku looks down at his hands and grimaces. “Ahhh, actually, I just didn’t really know what would constitute a date. I mean I’ve gone on plenty, don’t get me wrong, but–.”

“I gotcha,” he says. “Sorry, I’m kinda old school. Walk you to your door and send flowers kinda shit.”

“No, it’s great! Me too, actually. It’s just always been…”

“Yep, me too,” he nods. “Promise me you won’t think I’m weird when I try to bond with your mom.”

Izuku laughs happily and shakes his head. “I think that would be great, actually. I hope I get to meet yours soon.”

“Really?” Eijirou’s eyes widen.

“Yeah! I mean, if that’s okay…”

“Hell yeah, dude, that would mean the world to me, actually.”

“Good, maybe we can meet them for brunch or something one weekend before you go to the shop.”

“Okay,” he smiles warmly. “That would be nice.”

The lights darken, signaling the movie is about to begin, and they both sit back so they can watch. They’re shoulder to shoulder now, and Izuku feels Eijirou lean slightly against him. Should he hold his hand? Should he rest his head on his shoulder? What’s the proper etiquette here? He’s never been on a date to the movies before, he always went alone.

Eijirou leans towards him, and Izuku tries his best not to jump out of his skin. “Don’t fall asleep.”

Izuku looks at him in betrayal. “I’m not!”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles, barely seen in the dark but still enough to make Izuku’s chest seize. “We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, we will,” he nods. “Better pay attention because I’m gonna quiz you after.”

“Oh yeah?” Eijirou whispers.

“Yeah.”

Izuku is allowed to kiss him, right? That’s allowed in movie theaters, isn’t it? They’re in the dark, no one can see them or anything. It wouldn’t be rude.

Eijirou bites his lip and turns towards the screen. “Looking forward to it.”

Izuku exhales and does the same. It looks like they will be watching the movie then wnd not kissing.

But that’s okay, Izuku has a quiz to administer later.

 

“‘Zuku?”

Izuku’s eyes blink open to see Eijirou tugging at his sleeve. “Hmm?”

“You made me face The Slug Wars alone.”

Izuku sits up in horror and sees the end credits rolling on the screen and the theater significantly brighter than it was just a few minutes ago. At least he thought it was only a few minutes ago. 

And then it really hits him. He fell asleep through another movie with Eijirou. How could he do this with him twice? Izuku never falls asleep watching movies, this is his thing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers in distress.

“Ahhh,” Eijirou frowns. “I was only joking earlier, but maybe we shouldn’t have gone out.”

“Oh.”

Oh no.

“If you’re that tired, tell me, okay? I’m cool with just staying in,” he says, taking Izuku’s hand and at the same time, another one of Izuku’s lingering worries. “We both work full time.”

“I swear I wasn’t tired,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“Wanna catch the next one so you can get in another nap?”

“No,” Izuku pouts. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m actually really happy you can sleep around me,” he says. “It’s a compliment. Don’t worry about it.”

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and exhales. He wasted two hours of their date sleeping and made Eijirou sit through the movie all by himself. And it’s not like Eijirou gets to just go off and do stuff at night often… 

He feels terrible.

“Was the movie good?”

“Nope,” Eijirou laughs.

“No ,” Izuku whines pitifully. That just makes it worse.

“Who would have seen that coming, right?”

And he doesn’t seem at all upset about it. He doesn’t seem upset about any of this, actually. Maybe Izuku didn’t ruin the whole night by sleeping. Like an idiot.

“Alright, that’s fair, but let me make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not ice cream,” Izuku says, taking a breath. “But there’s a really good crepe cart by my building. You’re gonna love it.”

“You buying?” Eijirou quirks an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

He hums and looks over his face with a soft smile. “Alright.”

Izuku has never had someone he wanted to stare at this much. He’s so easy to look at, and the more Izuku looks, the more he finds to like. It’s the little scar under his eye, and the wisps of hair that don’t quite fit in the ponytail, and it’s the way when he grins, his canines slip over his bottom lip like a puppy. It’s everything.

And Eijirou looks back easily. He has since they met, actually. He’s fond when he gazes at him, and Izuku feels that fondness deep down in his stomach, and for some reason, it doesn’t make him want to turn away. He’s not embarrassed at all, and even if it makes him feel a little shy, he likes it. He likes him.

“I think the movie’s over,” Izuku manages, because if he doesn’t say anything, his feelings are going to spill out in the form of teardrops again.

“Yeah.”

“They’re gonna kick us out.”

Eijirou breaks out into a bright smile. “That would be really funny.”

 

They do not get crepes because they’re both still full from dinner, and even if he wanted to eat, the butterflies in Izuku’s stomach would never allow it.

But the night doesn’t end yet. They find a nice, unoccupied bench near Izuku’s building and sit, sides pressed together against the cold, but Izuku has never felt warmer.

He could sit here all night, if that was allowed. If there wasn’t a chance one of them could get sick. Although, apparently Bakugou bought half of the pharmacy for Shouto so they’re good on medicine if someone does come down with something.

Izuku leans against Eijirou’s shoulder and sighs. He hopes that doesn’t happen.

“So how did we do,” Eijirou asks. “For normal dates.”

“I had a really good time,” he says. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“So formal,” he teases.

“Sorry,” Izuku laughs. “I’m kinda bad at this.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “Me too.”

“It was a good first date.”

“Oh man,” he says, hanging his head with a smile. “Bro.”

“Sorry,” he nudges him. “I forgot we were calling it normal.”

“First has a good ring to it,” Eijirou says to his hands. “We kinda nailed it, didn’t we.”

“I think we make a good team.”

Eijirou looks at him with wide sparkling eyes, forcing back a smile Izuku would give anything to see.

“Oh man, that’s like–,” he says and takes a breath. “Way to my heart dude.”

“Is it?” Izuku asks. “Is that the secret?”

“Maybe,” he smiles and glances at Izuku’s mouth before his face twists, and then with a sigh, it drops. “Listen, uhh, I’m sorry if I can be a little much.”

Izuku frowns, not understanding where this is coming from at all.

“I mean, I know I’m kind of loud, and I get excited sometimes, and I can be annoying, and I kind of latched onto you pretty hard, bro,” he says with a grimace.

“I can’t agree with any of this.”

“Because you’re nice.”

“Not nice enough to lie,” he says.

“I would just really hate it if I ended up getting on your nerves or something.”

Izuku looks at him and frowns. “I think you’re great. Like you’re really the best, I mean it.”

“Careful,” he says. “I might get attached.”

“That would be okay…”

“I mean it. I mean, I’m not gonna lie to you, dude, any little hint of a green light you give me, and I’m gonna take it,” Eijirou says with a sad smile like he’s asking Izuku to tell him he doesn’t want him, but Izuku meant what he said. He isn’t nice enough to lie.

“I didn’t know that would be something you would be interested in,” Izuku looks down. “A green light from me, I mean.”

“Oh yeah, since like day one. When you first walked into the shop you were so cute and nervous and excited, and you had this determined energy like you were going to do your best even though I was the one who was supposed to do everything,” he says with a fond laugh. Izuku flushes in embarrassment. He really was going to try his best… “I just started working there too. I mean it was my first week, and I didn’t have any customers at all, and I mean sure, a few walkins, but they don’t really care who puts their girlfriends’ names on ‘em, you know? But it was kind of terrifying starting all over again, and swiping another artist’s customer is a huge no no, like I would never, but you were so– you were, like, really green, dude.”

Izuku laughs, delighted. He didn’t expect that to be where he was going with that at all.

“I told Hitoshi, though, like, as soon as you left, I was like dude I am so sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I swear, but your friend–,” Eijirou stops.

“But I… what?” Izuku leans over, and Eijirou only looks at him, a quiet plea to not make him finish, and Izuku doesn’t. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Izuku bites back a smile. He had no idea that his little crush might have been reciprocated, even a little bit. Eijirou is so nice, how could he have?

“I’ve never been so happy to meet one of Katsuki’s friends before.”

“Me neither.”

Eijirou sighs and looks over his face. “Maybe if I had been a little braver…”

“Me too,” Izuku swallows. “Except I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because you were just doing your job and I was hopeless.”

“I appreciate you considering me as a human being,” he jokes. “I mean, it would have been cool because I thought you were the best, but also, it’s nice that you didn’t walk in trying to pick up your tattoo artist.”

“Does that happen a lot,” his eyes widen.

Eijirou winces. “Yeah, kinda. Sorry.”

“Oh my god, that must be so awkward for you,” he says. “What do you do? You’ve still gotta tattoo them.”

“The pain hits and they decide they don’t like me so much anymore,” he laughs, and Izuku does too. 

“Oh.”

“It’s usually for discounts,” he says. “In case you were worried.”

“Are you saying I should have asked for a discount?”

Eijirou throws his head back and laughs. “No! I’m just saying, I don’t want you to think–.”

“I don’t think,” Izuku assures him. 

“I think you think a lot,” he sighs. “You’re so damn smart, it’s unreal.”

Izuku looks off and shakes his head. “You know what I meant.”

“I know,” he says. “But you could have asked for a discount. I would have totally given one.”

“Eijirou, that is not good business.”

“I don’t care,” he smiles. “It’s you. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

Eijirou nods. “Anything.”

“I’ll remember that,” he says, with absolutely no intention of remembering that.

“Can I say something?”

“Sure,” Izuku blinks. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry I panicked,” he says. “In the car, I mean, and I know we talked about it, but Izuku you have absolutely no idea how much I regret that.”

Izuku looks away and frowns, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. “I’m sorry I acted like that. It wasn’t me, and if I hadn’t, then you wouldn’t have thought– well, you know.”

“Yeah,” Eijirou says. “I, umm, told Katsuki about what happened.”

“What?” Izuku sits up in horror.

“I thought you might have told him, and I thought it might have been easier to explain what happened to him since he knows I’m not, like, usually a dick, I guess.”

“What did he say?”

“He punched me.”

Izuku gasps. “What?”

“In the arm, obviously no busted noses here, but dude seriously came this close to kicking my ass,” he says. “Turns out he did not know what happened at all, so my bad there, and said that, umm, you of all people were someone bad things aren’t supposed to happen to. I didn’t know, Izuku. I really didn’t.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Izuku says into his palms. “Oh please, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, this is all my fault.”

“I needed it kinda,” he swallows.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. We both know that, right?”

“I did,” Eijirou says with a pained smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever hurt anyone before in my life, that I’m aware of, I mean. You being the first kinda blows big time.”

“I’m fine,” Izuku turns to him. “Really. Now that I know you–, I’m okay.”

He looks over Izuku’s face carefully, maybe looking for cracks he’ll never find. “Are you sure?”

Izuku nods with an assuring smile. At least he hopes that’s what his face is doing.

“Promise?”

“I’m really good now,” he says. “I’m happy.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

Izuku nods again. “I promise.”

“Good,” he smiles.

“Eijirou?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we go out again?”

“Ahh,” he says, cocking his jaw slightly, and Izuku has a small flash of residual panic from what happened last time he made that face, but now Izuku knows that’s just his uh oh, this is going to hurt me face and not disgust.

“Metaphorically,” he adds.

“Oh yeah, of course! Izuku… are you sure about this?”

“About what?”

“You’re in for a lot of 2 a.m. ramen on the couch nights with me, I’m afraid,” he sighs. “I can’t give you a lot more than just me, and even then, that’s gonna be kinda stretched thin.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“Yeah, I love it,” he blinks.

“Then it’s not a problem.”

Eijirou frowns. “It will be.”

“It’s not,” Izuku insists. “I mean we can figure out the schedule later, but I would rather have a boyfriend I didn’t get to see as much because he was doing what he loved than one I saw all the time who regretted me for taking him away from something. I don’t know, I mean yeah, I’ll miss you, but it’ll be okay, really.”

Eijirou’s mouth twitches, and he leans in towards him. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Izuku covers his mouth in horror, eyes wide open once he realizes what he just implied. “I didn’t mean– I’m so sorry, I was just– oh man.”

“That’s me!” Eijirou cheers before kissing Izuku on the cheek. “Izuku’s boyfriend with shitty work hours.”

Izuku smiles so bright he can’t keep his eyes open, but it’s music to his ears. He wants that so much, he can barely breathe. “Noooo.”

“Mhm, yep,” he nods. “No take backs, my dude.”

Izuku covers his face and wails. “I’m such a dork.”

“Can I be?”

He looks at him from between his fingers, confused. “A dork?” 

“No,” he laughs. “Your boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Izuku flushes. “Yeah, if you want to be.”

“You have to be a part of this decision.”

“Okay,” he looks away. “Yeah, I want you to be.”

“Good,” Eijirou says quietly. He sighs happily and sits back before looking down at his feet kicked out in front of him. “Sorry, cold weather makes me sentimental, I guess.”

Izuku rests his head on his shoulder and exhales. “Me too.”

“Does it?”

“I like you, Eijirou,” he admits. “I don’t think I’ve said it out loud yet.”

“Oh, I see it does get to you too, huh,” he teases.

“Hey!”

“I like you too, Izuku,” he says. “A lot.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Eijirou hums and takes his hand. 

“Are you just saying that because Kacchan punched you?”

“No,” he laughs. “I told you I’ve been in this since day one. You’re kinda it for me. Ideal type, dream guy kinda shit. I just thought it was impossible.”

“Me too,” Izuku says. “Day one, you, everything.”

“Are you just saying that because Katsuki punched me?”

“I can’t believe he did that,” he whines. “He loves you, that’s not right.”

“He really didn’t hit me that hard,” he says. “More like a well aimed swat.”

“I’m still sorry,” Izuku groans and turns into him, resting his chin on Eijirou’s shoulder and stretching his arm across his stomach. 

“Katsuki is a good friend,” he says, and Izuku winces. “Don’t make that face, he’s the one who got me to talk to you. He said he wouldn’t tell me shit, in his words of course, but he said you’re big about that talking shit, again, his words, not mine, and so I went for it.”

Izuku laughs, so relieved he could cry. “I am. I wish he would take my advice sometime.”

“It’s good advice,” he says and kisses Izuku on the forehead, lingering long enough that Izuku’s eyes lull shut, peace taking over him slowly. “Worked out for me.”

“Did it really?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m really happy, Izuku.”

It’s a good feeling, having a heart full with so much warmth and comfort that he could sink into it, fully and all at once, and now that he knows what it truly feels like, he doesn’t feel at all afraid.

Boldness comes easy tonight.

Izuku hums and tilts his head to look at him, smiling softly as his heart pounds almost painfully in his chest. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t notice.”

“We’re pretty close to my place.”

“Oh, yeah kinda,” Eijirou says, the slightest pout of his lip giving him away. “You ready to call it a night?”

Izuku looks over at him and gathers his nerves. His second chance is right here, and tonight he doesn’t have to pretend he’s someone he’s not. No, he’s Eijirou’s boyfriend now, not just some hopeful competing with the rest of the world that neither one of them cares about. They know how each other feels now and what each other has to be afraid of and that it doesn’t exist here. He’s sure he can do this one thing.

“Eijirou, would you… would you like to come inside?”

His eyes widen in surprise, and Izuku continues before he can lose his nerve.

“We don’t have to, uhh, you know. I mean, we can just talk, or I can make us some coffee, or we could put on another movie that I will most definitely watch while standing up, but– would you like to come over?”

Eijirou bites his lip and smiles. “It’s pretty late for coffee.”

“I guess it is,” he says, shy.

“I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Izuku says, his voice soft. 

Whatever happens, he’s sure he made the right choice.

 

“This is where I live,” Izuku gestures at his apartment door, still locked, still terrifying.

“Yeah,” Eijirou swallows, just as nervous as he is. It’s comforting really, that every step is just as daunting for each other and that no one is leaving the other behind. It makes Izuku feel a little braver. Like he can take the lead.

Izuku looks up at him, much too hopeful. “This doesn’t feel like last time.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he smiles. 

Izuku reaches out for him, trailing his fingers down Eijirou’s arm until he finds his hand, and he pulls, not nearly as afraid as he thought he was. This time he takes what he wants.

His back hits the door as they crash into each other, Eijirou’s mouth hot against his. Izuku’s locked fingers ache from being squeezed too hard, but he can’t let go of him.

Finally, he thinks as his lips part and Eijirou’s tongue slips past his teeth. This is what he’s been craving for this whole time. 

His free hand wanders over Eijirou’s body, stopping at his jaw, and he urges him closer, a soft needy noise escaping through his nose.

Eijirou pulls back first, gasping for air and bringing himself back to his senses. Izuku doesn’t want to go back to lucid. He isn’t ready yet. Why can’t they keep going? “We’re gonna get caught out here.”

“Oh.”

Maybe he has a point.

“I mean I don’t mind, but you’ve gotta live here,” he offers.

“No, yeah, you’re right, I got a little carried away.”

“Not a problem,” he says, hovering over him and making it too hard for Izuku to think.

“I should, umm, probably open the door, huh,” Izuku says, eyes locked on his lips and hands flat on his chest. It takes everything he has to resist curling his fists into his shirt.

“If you want,” he says. “No rush.”

“Right,” he hums, licking his lips, and then he realizes. “Oh! Right! Sorry!”

Izuku spins around to let them into his apartment, his hands trembling as he struggles to line his key up to the lock. He can feel the warmth against his back from how close Eijirou is behind him. Any closer and he’d be pinned up against the door like this, and the thought of Eijirou having him like that makes him dizzy.

A click.

He exhales in relief as the door opens, and they’re inside a dark apartment together, and Izuku’s hands won’t stop shaking. 

They remove their shoes, and Izuku moves his hand in time to hit the lights, and the next thing he knows, they’re kissing again, hurried and messy and wonderful. He’s not sure who kissed who this time, but it doesn’t matter.

It’s perfect, and charged, and Izuku’s feet are off the ground.

Izuku’s feet are off the ground.

Eijirou pins Izuku against the wall, using his own body for leverage, and Izuku squeaks in surprise before a pleased gasp escapes him. Eijirou smiles against his mouth and braces him so that he doesn’t fall. Izuku’s never had a tall boyfriend before, never dated anyone who could and would just pick him up before, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it.

He wraps his legs around Eijirou’s hips for support and tangles his arms around his neck, and Eijirou pushes his body against him, finding angles Izuku never knew he wanted, but no matter how he tries, he can’t seem to get close enough.

He hopes Eijirou knows how serious he was about not wanting him to leave after.

Izuku turns his head and finds the corner of Eijirou’s mouth. “I make a good breakfast.”

“Oh yeah?” 

Eijirou’s lips trail over his jaw until he finds Izuku’s mouth again, and every kiss comes as perfectly as the one before it.

“If you want I could learn how to make lunch too,” Izuku says between kisses. “And dinner.”

“That’s a lot of food.”

“I don’t care.”

Stay is what he can’t say. As long as he wants to be, Izuku wants him to be here.

“I order a mean box of chicken.”

“I like chicken,” Izuku says before taking his bottom lip in his mouth. “Am I too heavy?”

“Nah,” he says. “Do I look like I’m having a bad time?”

“No,” he smiles.

“Good,” he says. “This uncomfortable for you? Where should I take you?”

Izuku thinks the couch might be the best option. They could sit, and talk, and spend some time together relaxing. Maybe they could hold hands again, that was nice. Yes, the couch is a great idea. The central hub of Izuku’s apartment.

“Bedroom,” Izuku pants.

Oh okay, that works too.

“Where?”

“Back of the apartment,” he says. “Door on the left.”

“Hold on!” Eijirou says, all too cheerful, and Izuku can’t help but laugh as he’s carried off through his own apartment. 

Izuku nibbles on his ear because it’s a pretty ear so close to his mouth, and he kind of flushes at himself for doing that because he wanted to. It feels like he can do anything he wants with him, and it’s exciting. 

They make it to his bedroom, and Eijirou totes him to the foot on the bed. “You ready?”

“Yep!”

Eijirou drops him, letting Izuku free fall onto his own mattress with an oof, which is definitely not how he expected to be put down, but he supposes it was efficient.

“That was a long drop,” Izuku says, surprised.

“Yeah,” he smiles as he bends over to climb on top of him. “Sorry about that.”

Izuku grabs him by the shirt and pulls him to his mouth, chest on fire as he works for every breath. “It’s great. Sorry for the mess.”

“What mess?” Eijirou mutters.

Izuku turns his head to look for himself and sees that—for once—his room is spotless. Shouto?!

Eijirou anchors his knee between Izuku’s legs, and Izuku gasps as his teeth dig into his neck, wiping away any trace of a thought Izuku might have had in his head at all.

Izuku arches up to get closer to him, and Eijirou rolls his body down, pinning Izuku into the mattress. He feels so good against him, warm and pulsing with so much energy, and Izuku would give anything to have more of him.

His hands trace over Eijrou’s body, itching to find out what waits for him beneath the surface, and finds too many layers of clothes. They’re both wearing too many clothes.

He tugs at Eijirou’s hoodie, and Eijirou stops to pull off his jacket first for him. Izuku sits up to undress himself and fights his own sweater that fits a little too snuggly for a good first date. It’s funny, almost. They can’t even unwrap each other right now because it’s the wrong time of year for spontaneity. Oops.

For his last layer, Eijirou pulls his shirt up over his head, and Izuku gasps once he sees his chest.

“Oh wow,” his jaw drops. He reaches out and traces the red and black dragon swirling across the width and the raging tattooed sea that covers the top half of his torso like an armor plate. He presses his palm flat against the fire spilling out from the dragon’s mouth right over Eijirou’s heart and squeezes. “Oh wow.”

Eijirou laughs, delighted. “Izuku, please!”

“I’m sorry, you’re just so…”

“So… what?”

Izuku stops and looks at him seriously. “I am really not going to survive this.”

He smiles happily and pulls Izuku onto his lap. Izuku adjusts himself so he can straddle him, and it should be illegal to feel this good to sit with someone like this.

“Oh is this okay for you,” Eijirou grins and easily swallows up Izuku’s reply. Izuku doesn’t want to know how much he’s been talking to himself this whole time, but he’s so grateful that Eijirou doesn’t mind it.

Izuku can’t sit still like this. He has to move, and as he moves, their bodies rub together and build a promising rhythm that pushes the air from Izuku’s lungs. His kisses grow as sloppy and desperate as he feels, and the more he kisses him, the more he wants him, but the better it feels, the harder it is to hold on to these dual sensations, and he’s scared if he loses his focus, he won’t be able to remember how good Eijirou’s body feels against him when he’s over.

He’s not going to have his wits for long.

“I feel like it’s important to say that this is not a hookup.”

Eijirou laughs. “Oh it’s not?”

Izuku cups his jaw in his hands and shakes his head. “It’s not.”

“Mmk,” he mumbles as his lips drag over his cheek. “Good to know.”

“Yeah,” Izuku breathes as he slides his arm around Eijirou’s neck. He rocks his hips, grinding against Eijirou and feeling how much he is with only a thin layer of underwear separating them. It feels good to do this with him. It feels good to just do what feels good. Eijirou will never know what that means to him. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

He freezes at the question, his body tensing into almost a flinch. “Yeah.”

“Can you come by after, or will you be too tired?”

“Oh,” he relaxes. “I mean I’m closing tomorrow so it would be like two or three before I could get here.”

“I’ll stay up,” Izuku says quickly.

“Izuku,” he pouts and cradles his cheeks in his hands. “That’s too late. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“I don’t care. We can just go to sleep when you get here, or put on a movie so I can sleep and you can wind down, it really doesn’t matter. I just want you here, I mean if you want to be.”

“Okay,” he says before leaving a soft trail of kisses towards Izuku’s mouth. “I’ll come by after work.”

Izuku closes his eyes, finds Eijirou’s lips again, and he sinks wholly and completely into him with the comfort of knowing that he’ll be here again and that he doesn’t have to worry about forgetting any of this. 

He reaches up and carefully loosens Eijirou’s hair from its tie so that it falls down to his shoulders, and he slides his fingers across his scalp, hoping that it soothes him. Eijirou’s head rolls back with a small smile as Izuku massages him.

He’s never liked anyone this much. It can’t be good to like anyone this much.

“Wait,” he says, pulling away. “Was that too clingy? That was clingy, wasn’t it. We don’t have to–.”

“Izuku,” he says, and he moves to kiss him on his neck, slow and tantalizing. Izuku’s eyes flutter shut. “I am, like, really into you, you know that, right?”

“Oh,” he manages, his voice caught in his throat.

Eijirou slides his hand down his body, and Izuku holds in a gasp as he finds what he’s looking for. “And it would really make me happy if I could make you feel good right now.”

A small, surprised whimper escapes Izuku’s lips, and his body melts in Eijirou’s arms, only supported by the arm across his back.

Eijirou sucks a bruise into Izuku’s collar while he palms him, and Izuku has never felt this good with another person before. The thought of giving himself to someone never quite made sense to him before because wouldn’t he just be taking himself back once they were done? But oh does he get it now, and this time he doesn’t want it to be temporary. He wants Eijirou to take everything he has to give and keep it forever, and the more he touches him, his thumb tracing over Izuku with too much ease, the more Izuku is willing to beg for him to.

Izuku leans back and puts his palms flat against the bed so he can roll his hips over him. He feels just how stiff Eijirou is wedged against his ass and presses down against him, a small preview of what he could have if he wants it. Izuku realizes how much he wants it and has to bite his lip to stifle a moan.

Eijirou kisses down his chest, wet and hungry, while he works him into soft, hushed gasps, and Izuku yelps out as he bites down on one of his nipples. Izuku’s eyes fly open in surprise.

He scrambles to sit back up, finding a new angle to rub against him from as he forces Eijirou back to support him, and it’s good. They can both feel everything like this, and the more he moves like this, the harder Eijirou breathes. Izuku kisses him, rough and awakened, and Eijirou pants against his mouth, slowly coming apart with every thrust.

An intense, wonderful friction builds, and Izuku burns with the heat of two bodies growing hot and needy. Eijirou grabs Izuku by the hips and pulls him against him, and Izuku gnaws at his shoulder, holding on however he can as they rut against each other, every movement quick and eager.

Eijirou’s head falls back, eyes furrowed shut and lips parted in a silent cry. Izuku mouths his jaw, rocking against him in small quick thrusts as shallow, labored breaths fill the room. Just knowing he could unravel him like this brings Izuku closer, and soon he’s on him like an animal, completely given over to this one urge.

They pant and gasp, bodies held tight and flush together as the sensation comes over them both. Eijirou’s chest is soft against his, and when Izuku’s nails find his back, he doesn’t even flinch. 

Izuku’s face twists until his eyes are forced shut, and his toes curl as his body finally seizes. He cries out despite himself, airy and desperate, and with a sharp, stunted huff, Eijirou folds into him, arms caging Izuku in place while he finishes against his spent form.

Their limp bodies rest, barely suspended by invisible strings, and it’s quiet for a while as they hold onto each other, both trying their best to come back to their senses. Izuku waits for his soul to return to his body, but he thinks now with his nose hidden away in the safety of Eijirou’s neck that he could happily stay like this forever.

“Wow, we just– like that, huh?” Eijirou laughs.

“Yeah, I guess we did,” Izuku says out of breath and smiling into his collar.

“Sorry, kinda, uhhh, got into it. Forgot to keep going.”

“No, no, that was great, I love it,” he says with an assuring squeeze. “Felt good.”

“Yeah, me too,” he squeezes him back, and Izuku thinks he might have just heard him sigh in relief. 

He closes his eyes and breathes him in, grateful he’s here with Eijirou and nobody else. Grateful that Eijirou is here with him and not someone else he would have to worry about auditioning with. Clearly Izuku was into it. “You smell like that tattoo soap.”

“Oh my bad.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Want me to bring you a bottle?”

Izuku shakes his head, eyes lulling shut as he comes down while holding onto the most wonderful guy he’s ever been with. “I like it better this way.”

“Oh,” he says quietly and slides his hand into Izuku’s hair to hold him close. Izuku’s never been cradled like this before, especially after being with someone in this way, and if he falls asleep, that’s on Eijirou this time. He wants to sleep next to him. He wants to know what that feels like.

“Can you stay tonight,” Izuku whispers.

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.

“Okay,” Eijirou nods. “I’ll stay.”

“Only if you want to,” Izuku adds. “I won’t get mad or anything if you don’t.”

“I want to.”

“Really?”

He nods and kisses the side of his head with a small hum. Izuku smiles to himself, happy that he gets to keep him.

They fall into a peaceful silence. Izuku sneaks small undetectable pecks onto Eijirou’s collar whenever his emotions get too overwhelming, and Eijirou rocks them back and forth slightly, probably overcome with his own. That makes Izuku happier than he can ever say.

“Izuku,” he sits up suddenly, and Izuku does the same.

“Yup?”

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Across the hall.”

“Cool,” he says and scoops Izuku up as he pushes himself up to his knees. “Hold on.”

“Oh, are we going together,” Izuku laughs.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

It’s a clumsy attempt to get them both off the bed with Izuku still attached to him, but Eijirou manages to pull it off somehow, and as Izuku’s carried off to the bathroom so they can clean themselves up, he’s happier than he can ever remember being.

Once they get into the bathroom, he puts Izuku down, and Izuku really gets a good look at him, half naked, tattooed, hair cascading over his body, and gorgeous. It makes Izuku’s mouth water.

“Hey, Eijirou?”

“What?”

“You think you could handle an, umm, second time?”

“Tonight?” Eijirou asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” he swallows, already sorry he asked.

“Maybe, what do you, umm, what do you need me to do?”

“Nothing! You don’t have to do anything! Except, umm, just wash your hair,” Izuku says, looking at the way it falls around him like a pretty red veil. “I’ll take care of the rest. If that’s okay…”

Eijirou makes a confused face and touches his own head. “You want me to wash my hair?”

“While, I, umm,” Izuku looks off, flushing. This is the first time he’s ever asked a boyfriend for something specific and he doesn’t know how to come right out and ask without it sounding like a business negotiation, but this is something he really wants to do for him. It’s a win win request, he swears.

“Oh…,” his eyes widen. “Really?”

“If that’s okay…”

“Bro, I am literally gonna die, come here,” he says before kissing him. “That’s so awesome, what the fuck.”

Izuku laughs, embarrassed. “Is that weird that I wanna do that? Say no if it is.”

“Hell no, dude, I love it, but how are you gonna, umm, keep the soap out of your eyes. I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep them closed while you rinse.”

“Holy shit,” he says. “Yeah, whatever you want, you got it. I’m all yours, here to serve, or whatever. Fuck, that’s so awesome.”

“Really?” Izuku perks up. “I promise I’ll do a good job.”

“Seriously, dude,” he says, taking his face in his hands. “You’re killing me over here. Fuckin’ do your best attitude, my heart can’t take it.”

“Sorry,” Izuku smiles.

He’s not sorry at all.





The first thing Izuku sees the next morning is Eijirou sleeping soundly on the pillow next to him. They stayed up a little too late last night making up for years of missing out on each other, but Izuku isn’t nearly as tired as he thought he would be.

It’s been a long time since he woke up next to a naked man, he realizes once Eijirou shifts in his sleep and the bedsheet slides just a little bit off of his shoulder.

Never anyone this hot, though, that’s for sure. The bar has been set, and he’s not at all mad about it. But Eijirou is cute too, and he’s even cuter when he sleeps. He kind of reminds him of a big fluffy husky taking a nap in the sun, and Izuku smiles as he fixes the sheet for him. Izuku might be smitten.

But that’s kind of inevitable, isn’t it? He already knew he liked him, but last night… it wasn’t weird or stressful at all, and Eijirou didn’t have to spend the whole night unfolding a stiff and useless Izuku like a card table. It was all as easy as just kissing and touching and being held. 

And for once Izuku could ask for what he wanted.

He reaches out and brushes a finger against his cheek, and Eijirou blinks his eyes open.

“Sorry.”

He mumbles something incoherent as he scoops Izuku up in his arms and pulls him to his chest. Izuku closes his eyes and smiles. Yes, there is very much a naked man in his bed, and he’s warm, and his body is so wonderful and soft when it’s at rest, and Izuku is very much happy they’re both here together.

“Mornin’,” he says into Izuku’s hair.

“Good morning. Go back to sleep.”

“No,” he grumbles and squeezes Izuku closer to him. Big baby.

“Alright,” Izuku smiles. 

Eijirou falls back asleep.

Now that he’s awake, he’s up for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t mind staying here with him. He listens to every sleepy inhale and exhale, counting them for a while until his mind wanders elsewhere. He wonders what time it is.

Eijirou shifts in his sleep and nuzzles his hair. “‘Zuku?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Bathroom, top drawer,” he says. “Take your pick.”

“Sweet,” he pushes himself up. “Be right back.”

Eijirou slips out of the room, and Izuku absolutely does not take a peek at the sweetest, roundest little tush he’s ever seen in his life. He rolls into his pillow and smiles. What a cute butt he has.

The bed is cold without him, he realizes with a small frown. He knows he’s only going to be gone for a few minutes, but he misses him already. He hugs his pillow, but it’s not the same. It’s not Eijirou.

Eijirou comes back and slips under the covers before climbing on top of him. He kisses Izuku, lips sweet from fresh toothpaste and chapped from the morning. Izuku whines and pulls away. “Not fair, I didn’t brush mine.”

“I don’t care,” he says, kissing along his cheek until he finds his mouth.

“I do,” he pouts.

Eijirou exhales and moves to plant a soft peck on his forehead. “Better?”

“Maybe.”

Eijirou hovers above him, and Izuku sees that his own hair taming shampoo left his hair thick and full like a lion’s mane. Izuku reaches up and runs his fingers through it, smiling fondly as the waves hook around his knuckles. It really can’t be good to like someone this much.

“What?”

Izuku smiles and shakes his head, and this time when

Eijirou kisses him, he doesn’t complain.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What is it,” Eijirou asks.

“Your, umm, sketchbook,” Izuku says, and Eijirou’s eyes widen. “You can say no, it’s totally fine, but, umm, the sparrow…”

“What about it?”

“Can I have it?”

Eijirou nods, surprised. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

“Want me to cut it out for you?”

“No! I meant–,” Izuku stops. How is he supposed to ask for this? Drawings are so personal, and that one 

might mean something private to Eijirou. The whole idea was rude of him. He wasn’t thinking. It’s the exhaustion, clearly, he is so very tired.

“Second tattoo?” Eijirou asks, and Izuku nods. “Sure, dude, that’s your book. You’re the only one who can get those, if you want them, I mean.”

“Oh,” he says, shy. “I didn’t know.”

“Never had someone wake my brain up like that before,” he laughs. “I mean yeah, I drew ‘em, but it kinda feels like it belongs to both of us, I guess.”

“I love that sparrow,” Izuku says, his eyes watering. “I mean I love them all, but it’s–.”

Eijirou hums and rubs his thumb over Izuku’s cheek. “You want it, it’s yours. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay,” he smiles up at him. “I’m sorry I can’t give you anything.”

“You don’t have to do anything ever, but being someone I kind of want to spend all my time with is pretty awesome to me,” he says. “And if I say you inspire me out loud, we’re both gonna be embarrassed.”

Izuku’s cheeks flush, and he wrinkles his nose.

“See,” Eijirou laughs. “You inspire me, Izuku.”

He turns away and winces. “Okay, okay, you win.”

“Yeah, awful, right? If I had pants on, I’d run away.”

“You’ve got a great butt, by the way,” Izuku says seriously. “Seriously, best butt award goes to you.”

“You peeked?!” Eijirou gasps, scandalized. 

Izuku shrinks back into his pillow. “Just a little bit.”

“Bad,” he shakes his head. “Izuku, I’m ashamed.”

“I’m not,” he smiles.

“Lord have mercy, what did I get myself into,” he says fondly.

“You want out?”

“Oh hell no.”

Izuku looks up at him, heart too full and too warm, and he reaches up to touch his cheek and the shadow of stubble growing around his mouth. “I’m so happy you’re here with me, Eijirou.”

“Me too,” he says, looking over Izuku’s face. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

Izuku remains silent, waiting for Eijirou to explain at his own pace, but it makes his heart ache a little to think about.

“First after the tattoo because that’s how it works, and that sucked, but then–,” he stops. 

Izuku tucks Eijirou’s hair behind one of his ears for him and exhales. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you either. Both times.”

“Would it be okay with you if I see you a lot from now on?”

Izuku nods. “That would make me really happy.”

Eijirou lies down on his chest, and Izuku pulls the sheet over them and wraps his arms around him. He trails his fingers down his bare back, too content, and Eijirou idly kneads the meat of his thigh, both resigned to fall back asleep until Eijirou has to go back to work.

What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday morning.

He wouldn’t mind doing this every day.

“Oi, Deku! Where the fuck are you?!”

Izuku and Eijirou both flinch. 

It’s Saturday…

Eijirou jumps up, taking the bedsheet with him, and Izuku plunges himself off of the bed in the opposite direction. It's Saturday, and Bakugou is here, and they are both still very much in bed and both very naked.

How could Izuku forget that they were coming over for breakfast? He all but threatened Bakugou to start coming over again!

There’s no time to stop and dig out something nice and clean to wear, so Izuku scrambles to gather the pieces of clothing they discarded the night before while Eijirou searches for his own layers Izuku tossed aside in the throws of passion. He’ll be sure to apologize for that later, but for now, they really have to get some pants on.

“Shit, my underwear,” Eijirou says in distress, and Izuku is pretty sure those are still in the bathroom with Izuku’s. Oh no.

“Do you need some of mine?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to freeball it,” he says. “I can’t find my shirt.”

Izuku looks around until he sees a shirt that most definitely isn’t his and tosses it to him. “Maybe next time we should finish taking our clothes off before we…”

A childish giggle escapes Eijirou’s mouth as he pulls his hoodie over his head. “Next time.”

“Eijirou?!” Izuku squeaks, much too stressed out in their current situation for this.

“Sorry,” he flashes a smile. He’s not sorry at all.

“I would like to live long enough for there to be a next time,” Izuku pleads.

“Right. Found your pants.”

“Thanks,” he says, mid-catch.

He smoothes himself out, and Eijirou joins him at the door, and they kind of look like they’ve been dressed and put together this whole time. Good work, team, mission accomplished.

“Hey,” Eijirou says, and Izuku turns in time for his lips to find his. The kiss is a gentle encouragement that warns him from head to toe. He can do anything now. Even face his best friends.

“Is it too late to pretend we’re not here?”

“Nerd!”

“It might be,” Eijirou winces.

“God, why did I give him a key,” Izuku whines.

“Because you’re a good friend.”

“Maybe,” he says with a half smile. “You ready to go get our butts kicked?”

“Yep! Lead the way!”

Izuku opens his bedroom door and holds his breath. All the lights on the apartment are on, and he’s not sure if that was from last night or from Bakugou, but it’s so bright, it’s almost blinding.

Eijirou follows him out into the hall, hovering especially close behind him like he could possibly hide behind Izuku. Although using him as a human buckler might work…

And then they see them. Bakugou and Shouto on the couch together because they’re good friends who come over for breakfast on Saturday mornings like Izuku asked them to. 

Izuku swallows.

“Hey, guys,” he laughs awkwardly. “Didn’t know you were coming by.”

“Of course we were–,” Bakugou stops mid-bark.

“Howdy,” Eijirou says from behind Izuku, his hands on Izuku’s shoulder most definitely in case he needs to use him as a human buckler. “Fancy seein’ you around these parts.”

“What the fuck did you two do…,” Bakugou sits up.

“I told you we should have waited for an invitation,” Shouto says. Bakugou turns to Shouto in disbelief, who simply stands up and brushes himself off. “If we’re ordering today, I’ll go get my card.”

Eijirou flinches and immediately digs for his wallet that might still be on Izuku’s bedroom floor. “No way, dude! It’s on me! What do you guys want?”

“You’re damn right, it’s on you asshole, you deflowered Deku.”

He what?

Izuku, Eijirou, and Shouto all give Bakugou a confused look.

“Kacchan, I wasn’t a–,” Izuku says before snapping his mouth shut. “Anyone want coffee?”

“Coffee would be great,” Eijirou helps. “Shouto?”

“I’ll take tea,” he says and turns towards the kitchen, steps slightly faster than usual. “Katsuki, would you like tea or coffee?”

Bakugou doesn’t answer, face turning an angry shade of purple, and Izuku bravely steps behind Eijirou. Boy, when the tables, do they turn!

“No wonder he punched me,” Eijirou mutters, casually putting himself between them now that he’s no longer in the hot seat.

“I’m so sorry,” Izuku whispers.

“Deku, you get your ass back over here!”

Izuku flinches and squeezes his eyes shut. “No thank you.”

“Deku!”

Bakugou might want to kill him, but Saturday mornings have been Izuku’s favorite part of the week for years, and to have another one with all four of them together? With Bakugou and Shouto dating again and Izuku with his new, perfect, wonderful sunshine of a boyfriend who Bakugou adored up until about three minutes ago? 

Seems like a pretty good Saturday morning to him, if he’s honest. Why waste it committing Izuku-cide?

What’s important here, he will convince him, is that they are—all of them—here together, and Izuku is happy.  

He’s waited a long time for this.

“Kacchan, before you kick my butt, I need to say something.”

“What,” he frowns.

“Thank you for getting me together with your old roommate,” he says. “I kind of owe you one.”

Bakugou relaxes, the scowl on his face relaxing into something closer to a pout as he glances at Shouto in the kitchen. “Nah. That probably makes us even.”

Eijirou looks at Izuku and back at Shouto. “You used to live together?”

“We were roommates in college,” Izuku says proudly. “Shouto got me a deal on this place, actually.”

“My family owns the building.”

“Holy shit,” Eijirou says.

“Is anyone gonna order food or are we gonna stand around here and fucking catch up again,” Bakugou huffs. “I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, have you seen my wallet?”

“I think I may have knocked it under the bed last night.”

“Sweet, be right back.”

Bakugou puts his head in his head and groans. “Why did we come over here again?”

“It’s Saturday,” Shouto says. “We always come here on Saturdays.”

Izuku forces back a smile. 

Everything is finally as it should be, and it only took the decision to finally step into a tattoo shop to get everything he wanted.

Not bad for a guy with fifty million notebooks who talks to himself and loves his friends a little too much, he thinks. Not bad at all.

Notes:

Ahhhh we’re at the end!!! If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading 🥺 that really means a lot to me.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading!!! I can be found here.