Archive of Our Own ^beta

"How could you be so cruel?"

Izuku can't help but snort in response, even if he feels a little bit rude for it. But he knows that Hitoshi and Shouto will forgive him. After all, it's not every day that he gets the chance to wear an outfit that's just fun, and that will have his partners flushing, and then go out and about like it; he has to take full advantage whilst he can. Doubly so when his Dad is gonna be there.

"I have no idea what you mean."  But his voice is too full of amusement to truly get away with it, judging by how Shouto steps up beside him, slipping his cold hand around Izuku's waist, chilly fingers brushing against his mesh shirt to press against the shorter teen's belly, shifting enough to have him gasping and snickering at the sensation.

"You don't?"

"Nope!" he gasps out, shimmying out of his boyfriend's loose hold to pout at them both,
"I've been nothing but delightful!"

"You're such a little shit, Green bean."

"Only for the people I love," he returns, soft and teasing and fond, smirking at them both in that way that has Shouto's eyebrow flaring up.

"I think you should be illegal," Hitoshi comments, idle and amused and soft all at once.

"I- Wha- Rude."

"You were rude first," Hitoshi returns, even as he drags himself up to come and loom over Izuku in that oh-so familiar way he has, one that Izuku is absolutely comfortable with and in fact has him grinning, all teeth, up at his partner, bending his neck back enough that it's just threatening to be uncomfortable but he really doesn't care. None of it is helped by how Hitoshi brings his arms up then, settling them outstretched upon Izuku's shoulders, drawing him in just that little bit closer with a slight pressure. Izuku just keeps on grinning.

Then Hitoshi is leaning in a little more, or rather down, and he is smirking but he's also waiting, a consideration for Izuku that is appreciated except he's also laughing a little as he tilts his head just enough to be an obvious invitation, and so that their noses don't bump when his boyfriend ducks that final bit down to feather a kiss to his lips once, twice, thrice. Izuku is laughing by the third one.

A pouting Shouto makes himself known, then, sinking in low and close to hook his chin atop Hitoshi's arm, face now inches from both of theirs.

"Where are my kisses?"

"Right here," Izuku returns, managing to shift enough under Hitoshi's arms to stretch and press a kiss to the corner of Shouto's mouth, warm and soft, the taller boy's lips a little chapped, as per usual. If he also reaches up to hook a thumb in a belt loop at the side of Shouto's hip, tugging a little in pure teasing affection, then it gets him a molten-eyed look and the edges of frost along that pretty cheekbone.

"Hito?" The two-tone eyes are still wide and pleading, shifting slightly against Hitoshi's arm.

"Right here, Peppermint," Hitoshi smiles, and leans in to kiss Shouto too. The sight alone has Izuku beaming, soft and sweet and simply delighted.

He adores his partners, he really, really does.

And judging by both of the soft expressions and the fingertips that get trailed along his jaw, Izuku isn't the only one who feels that way. Because even whilst they all draw away from each other a little, Izuku turning around to grab his phone off charge, turning back to his partners again to find their gazes very much on him in a way that might have been uncomfortable for it to be most anyone else, but he knows that they respect his boundaries, and that their looking is pure admiration.

"No, but really Izu, that outfit is... Well, shit, you look good, you know?"  Somehow, when the compliment is so blatantly sincere, so gently spoken, all flushed cheeks and warm eyes, Izuku squirms beneath it all, feeling shy all of a sudden, tugging slightly at the fabric of his skirt. It's pretty, with floral patterns, a green-blue background with sakura upon it, very much similar to his Mum's old skirts, long enough to almost reach where his combat boots will be, and it matches the pastel shirt he has borrowed off of Hagakure. If he also has a long-sleeved fishnet top under the little cropped tank top, then it's partially to help keep some of his more colourful or distinct scars less obvious. Plus he would like his Dad to not have a heart attack.

And, well, it's fun to mix the soft aesthetic with the darker one that he more naturally falls towards.

It's also funny, to him, to be able to hide no less than half a dozen knives under a pastel pink-blue-green-purple crop top with 'Hey Girl!' written on it in cursive. He likes the irony. It's just like how he's managed to get a knife and a baker's dozen of notably sharp hair pins in his pretty braids. There are, of course, more knives on his person, but the ones on his thighs are admittedly far less accessible like this, and he hasn't got his boots on yet.

Well, he isn't planning to need them, hopefully. But he certainly likes to have them with him, and it's only sensible, given both his personal luck and their class' luck as a whole. And, actually, the Aizawa luck too. He's definitely inherited a part of that too, if only through the power of sheer osmosis alone.

And also chaos. The chaos is definitely a shared factor too, actually, reaffirmed by the way that Izuku decides to do a roundoff, legs together, to announce his arrival into the common room, earning him several whoops and claps and cheers that he bows to, even as his Dad steps up behind him, hands coming up to settle at Izuku's waist, picking him up neatly and spinning them both around in something akin to a dance move. Izuku, perfectly happily, leans into it all, pointing his toes and splaying out his arms. Maybe he should get his Dad to do dance with him sometime. The hero used to do tap dance, Izuku is sure, Tsuka told him, and he has yet to take full advantage of the fact.

Well, one day. For now he's being bodily thrown by his father at his partners, both of them scrambling to catch him, even as Izuku cackles wildly, clinging on easily enough. Neither Hitoshi nor Shouto drop him, a fact that is very much appreciated, no matter that Izuku has one leg hitched over a narrow shoulder, his face buried in Shouto's cool side, hands all around him to keep him from face-planting into the floor.

His Dad snorts from somewhere behind Izuku, a verbalised match to the teen's own stupid grin, although he's slightly less impressed by the faint click of a phone camera shuttering.

"Really, Sensei?"  Hitoshi grumbles, although Izuku can hear the softest edges to it even from where he's still hanging sideways in their hold.

"Really, kid. And I've said you don't have to call me Sensei outside of classes and shit."

"Sure, Sensei."

"Of course, Sensei."  Their matching deadpan tones are immaculate and, Izuku thinks, fucking hilarious. He loves the chaos of his family. And, well, maybe his Dad does too, because the man sounds both very fond and absolutely done when he goes on,

"Brat, you found kids to match your level of little shit-ery, you better keep them."

"Already the plan, boss."

Izuku promptly gets dropped out of blatant startlement.

He wasn't prepared, admittedly, but he catches himself anyway, snickering. What, did they think that he wasn't planning to keep them for as long as they would have him? His silly boys, he really does love them ever so much.

Doubly so when they both insist on kissing his forehead in apology. Yes, Izuku loves them a lot indeed.