Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katsuki’s obsession with Icyhot starts – like all the fucking horrible heel realizations in his life do – with the shitty nerd.

Okay, maybe that’s not fucking fair. He’s been kind of obsessed with half and half since the moron refused to use his fire in their first year. But it gets worse when Deku – that fucking sappy shit – starts mooning over him.

Thing is, Izuku went from shitty nerd to hot shitty nerd around the time they turned twenty and Katsuki handled that realization the same way he does everything: he decided to be number fucking one. He wooed the shit out of Deku, thanks, and successfully, and now-

He should be pissed the damn nerd has a crush on Icyhot because ain’t nobody going to compete with the pretty bastard. He’s some bullshit combination of gorgeous, smart, kind, and absolutely deadly on a battlefield, and so when Katsuki catches Izuku making eyes and realises he doesn’t care about sharing as long as he’s in on the action, all he can do is fucking resign himself to his fate.

Had to be Icyhot. The rat bastard. Looking all pretty and shit, unintentionally stealing their clothes, existing near them. It’s downright slutty behaviour as far as Katsuki’s concerned. Except he knows Shouto doesn’t know what he’s doing when he does it, because he’s a goddamn idiot (affectionate) who wouldn’t know flirting if it gave him a lap dance and offered him a happy ending (less affectionate).

Case in fucking point: Thirst Tweets. Jesus fucking Christ what a mistake that is. Shouto should fire his PR agent, except he won’t because she’s as hellbent on causing senseless chaos as Icyhot is, so they get along just fine.

“D’you think he’s actually got ice dick?” Katsuki asks, that night, as Izuku gets into bed.

Stupid nerd flushes pink all the way down his neck. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk about Shou’s, um, equipment that way.”

“Fuck’s sake, just say dick, you nerd. Nobody can hear you. You aren’t gonna burst into flame.” Katsuki rolls onto his side. “So? What? No mumbling about his amazing genetics or whatever?”

Nerd’s done a lot of fucking mumbling about Halfie’s dumbass genetics.

“Well,” Izuku says slowly. “I… don’t think it would be like that all the time. He’s split evenly down the middle everywhere else. So it’s probably half cold, half hot like the rest of him. Although, now that he can circulate his blood and essentially reverse which side of his body does what – and the way he can combine his fire and ice to form Flashfreeze Heatwave or even Phosphor – hmm. It’s entirely possible he could have ice – uh. Equipment. But he’d probably have to make himself cold all over for that, and that would involve some pretty extreme repression of his fire-”

“Yeah, ‘cause what would Icyhot know about repression?” Katsuki asks sarcastically.

“You know,” Izuku says, his eyes lit up with the mania of overthinking the fuck out of Katsuki’s half-rhetorical question, “this is actually really interesting to think about! If Shou-kun can alter his temperature all over or localize it to a body part specifically – wow, I kind wanna ask-”

“Only you could look that fuckin’ excited thinking about the science of someone else’s dick,” Katsuki says flatly. “And I’m the only asshole stupid enough to put up with you talking about another guy’s dick in that much detail.”

“You started it!” Izuku splutters.

Only because Izuku’s apparently too fucking blind to realise he’s in love with Halfie, but he’s not ready to hear that one yet. Figures, though – Katsuki can’t even be mad about it. He’ll die before he admits it aloud but Shou’s really lovable in his own no-thoughts-head-empty way, doing cute ass shit like tilting his head when he doesn’t understand stuff or making people tea when they’re upset.

No point in calling attention to it, though, when they don’t even know what Halfie likes – if he likes anything or anyone. He’s kissed people, Katsuki’s sure of that, but he’s never said fuck all about anything else.

So – no point in the nerd being made aware of his own stupid crush only to panic and tell Halfie, who then hits them with some transcendental I’m-above-the-mortal-act-of-fucking shit. What is he, anyway, a fucking monk? He doesn’t date that Katsuki knows of (not that anyone’s good enough for him anyway, except them, fuck you very much) and it’s not like he’s goddamn short on offers.

How the shit is Halfie getting off?

~*~

He really fucking played himself this time.

He’s still fucking thinking about it the next morning, stomping out into the kitchen to make some waffles because idiots one and two will never forgive him if he doesn’t, only to find stupid Halfie sitting at the breakfast counter, blinking drowsily and his hair all kicked up at the back.

He’s wearing cat pyjama bottoms. Fuzzy socks with sticky grips on the bottom. A t-shirt with that stupid fucking nyan cat on the front.

Christ. He’s fucking tragic.

Katsuki’s heart squeezes the same way it does when Izuku goes on one of his mumble-a-thons about some All Might shit. It’s fondness he’s pretty sure, and it fucking sucks. At least when the nerd does it, Katsuki can squeeze his cheeks until he huffs and squirms.

Shortcake, though-

“Katsuki,” said fucker yawns. “Good morning.”

Katsuki squints at him.

He’s never known this fucker to have sex. To even hook up in the loosest sense of the word. And sure, Katsuki didn’t exactly play hard and fast before Izuku – somehow the damn nerd has the highest body count in the apartment – but fuck, Shou might as well be a monk or something.

Halfie blinks. Looks behind himself a little worriedly.

“I’m lookin’ at you, Icyhot,” Katsuki says, this dumbass. “Fuck are you awake for?”

It’s five-thirty. Katsuki always gets up this early. He likes getting up early. Shouto, the lazy fucker, has to be forcibly peeled out of bed before ten on the days he doesn’t have to work.

Shouto shrugs. There’s a steaming mug of tea in front of him, the teapot sitting close by and piled on some vile tea cozy thing Deku’s mom made them. It’s All-Might coloured. Katsuki would blow it up but he respects Auntie Inko more than he respects anyone, probably.

Shouto can make his own hot water. He doesn’t need a goddamn teapot. He went to the effort, though.

“Nightmare, huh?” Katsuki asks, softening considerably. Shit. He can’t help it. Halfie’s been through enough without feeling like he’s getting judged for having nightmares.

Shou nibbles his lip silently. The teapot tells the whole story though – poor shortcake uses the routine to soothe himself, going through the motions to remind himself he’s awake. The worst nightmares are the ones that are just memories, Katsuki knows that better than anyone, and nights are real fucking long and lonely when they hit and everyone else is asleep.

“How long’ve you been awake?” Katsuki asks shrewdly.

Shouto glances at him – seems to realise he’s not in fucking trouble or whatever – and relaxes by about a fucking hair. “Ah,” he says quietly. “Three, maybe.”

“Jesus, Halfie,” Katsuki sighs. “Told you – if they’re bad, wake us up.”

“I know.”

Shou sounds chastised, not comforted. Katsuki starts making waffles, making sure to add a shitload of chocolate chips to Shouto’s. He looks real tired, like this, cradling his tea and staring off into the steam.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks gruffly.

He’s not good at this shit. It’s Deku’s game, not his, and Deku’s always been better at coaxing Shou out of his cast-iron shell than Katsuki has been. But the nerd’s asleep, and Shou’s not in imminent danger, so Katsuki isn’t gonna wake him up.

Halfie’s gone back to chewing his lip. It’s why he always needs that stupid strawberry lip balm he keeps squirrelled away in about a million places. Does it when he’s nervous or worried – didn’t used to, but the further he gets from his past, the more his face has been melting into actual expressions people can parse out.

Well. Expressions Izuku and Katsuki can parse out, anyway.

“Jaku,” he says eventually.

He means Decay. He means most of the pro heroes injured and unable to assist in the first brutal confrontation between Shigaraki and themselves. Shou nearly watched his old man die, nearly watched him and Deku die, had his family history aired and his brother try to murder him. Katsuki’s not surprised Shouto still has nightmares about it.

Katsuki pulls a tub of strawberries from the fridge and starts chopping. “It’s shit,” he says finally, because Halfie hasn’t exactly given him a lot to work with here.

Shouto nods again. Silent. Staring into his tea.

Katsuki spears a fucking huge strawberry on a skewer. “Looks like Deku,” he says, holding it up, and Shouto blinks at him, startled – but it fucking does; it’s the right shape for his face and has a bunch of bigass green leaves on top of it.

“When he blushes,” he says.

Slowly, a smile spreads across Shouto’s face. “Mn,” he agrees, and Katsuki huffs, pleased with himself, before handing it over so Halfie can nibble on it. Indecent cute-ass motherfucker. The hell’s Katsuki supposed to do with the knowledge that he wants Shou just the same way he wants Deku? That Deku does as well only doesn’t realise it yet?

“Can I have strawberries and melted chocolate?” Shouto asks.

“Hah?” Katsuki demands. “I’m making you chocolate chip waffles-”

“Strawberries are more fun with melted chocolate.”

“Okay, so melt some.”

Shouto pouts. Gives him cow eyes. Brings one foot up to rest on the stool, puts his chin down on his knee. Wiggles the toes on that foot like he’s got a cramp.

This fucker.

“Ruin your teeth, don’t blame me,” Katsuki mutters, grabbing a bowl and dumping the chocolate chips into it. “Using your goddamn eyes to get what you want, should be fuckin’ ashamed of yourself-”

“I’m leveraging my emotional turmoil for sweet treats,” Shouto says idly. “Is it working?”

Katsuki glares at him pointedly as he pours boiling water into a small pot, then puts it on the stove, settling the chocolate chips on top. “The fuck do you think?”

Shouto smiles. “You could just microwave it.”

“You are a fucking microwave. Fucking laziest microwave I’ve seen. And I’m not fucking doing that – ruins the taste and consistency.”

“What’s that called? What you’re doing?”

“A bain-marie, dumbass.”

Bain-marie, Shouto mouths, blinking at the stove. “How does it help with the taste?”

“Melts it slower,” Katsuki says. “So you can stir it and keep it the same consistency. Microwave burns the shit out of it because you’re just, fucking, zapping it with radiation. Sometimes you gotta take time to make something good. Fuck.”

Shouto’s cute-ass little smile widens at that. “Thank you, then, for taking the time to make it good,” he says. “And for the waffles.”

Katsuki groans. It’s too early for Halfie’s earnest bullshit. It was almost easier when he had a mean streak a mile wide – God, he was a fucking bastard to deal with their first year at U.A – but it’s mostly gone now, like he’s fucking mellowing with age or whatever the fuck. Deku thinks he just doesn’t wanna be a prick like his shitty old man, that he’s dealt with some of the trauma of it and he’s softened a little bit as a result.

He can still be a real little dick. Just not often.

Whatever. Katsuki still doesn’t know what to do with it and it makes him fucking itch sometimes. The sincerity of it all. Barely knows what to do with Deku’s and he’s had a literal fucking lifetime of it.

Halfie doesn’t begrudge him that though. He seems to get it, as much as anyone can, as much as anyone does. No secret Katsuki’s – abrasive, that’s what fucking four-eyes called it once. Abrasive.

“Here,” he mutters, when the first batch of waffles is done and Shou’s yawning into his mug of tea. “Don’t blame me when you get cavities.”

“Thank you, Katsuki,” Shouto smiles, and digs in.

Katsuki turns back to the stove, furiously pinked up. Fucking Icyhot and his cute emotionally-vulnerable shit. Downright manipulative, fucking – letting Katsuki care about him, telling him about his nightmares. It’s right up there with stealing their clothes.

He’s gonna have to do something about this.

~*~

Doing something about it didn’t need to be him losing his shit over Halfie getting a date, but here they fucking are.

The apartment after he leaves is dead fucking quiet.

“What the hell was that for?”

Well, until Izuku speaks, anyway.

Katsuki grips the counter in both hands, leans forward, hangs his head. Doesn’t think he’ll ever get that look of absolute betrayal out of his head – Shou looking at him like Katsuki is someone he doesn’t recognise, someone that-

“Didn’t mean to,” Katsuki says quietly. “Shit. I really didn’t fucking mean to.”

-Someone that was gonna hurt him.

There’s a long silence from the nerd. Katsuki replays the door slam about fifty times before Deku speaks.

“When he comes back,” he says quietly, “you owe him an apology.”

“I fucking know that,” Katsuki says tonelessly.

“Yeah.” Damn it, Izuku sounds – fucking kind or some shit, like he understands, and he probably does, and that’s – infuriating in a way that itches his skin; him from five years ago would’ve lost his shit again by now. “I know you didn’t mean it, Kacchan. Are you-?”

“Worried,” Katsuki snaps. “Okay? I’m fuckin’ worried about him.”

Worried and knows that Halfie deserves better than whoever he’s with. It doesn’t even matter who he’s with he just – deserves better.

“Why?” Izuku asks softly.

“He’s gonna get hurt.”

“Kacchan…”

“Don’t Kacchan me, nerd. He’s got no goddamn idea what he’s doing. He asked dunce face and Barbie for advice. He’s gonna get hurt. One of these morons is gonna recognise him and-”

Izuku’s hand lands on his back, gentle in a way that stings, counterintuitively. He straightens – looks his stupid boyfriend in his stupid pretty green eyes, filled with sympathy.

“We don’t know he’s dating multiple people,” Izuku says softly, his hand trailing Katsuki’s arm to grip his hand. “He really doesn’t seem like the type to do that. I think he’ll date one person at a time and-”

Deku swallows. He looks away.

“Shou-kun is pretty good at working out who wants to hurt him,” he says quietly.

Katsuki’s jaw clenches so hard his teeth grind together. Yeah. Halfie fucking would be. Mom ditched him, siblings resented him (hated him, in that goddamn faulty toaster’s case) and his shit-for-brains dad-

“Getting angry won’t help,” Izuku says.

Katsuki lets out a breath. Anger is his default. Anger is familiar. Anger is comforting. Anger-

Just drove Halfie out of the fucking apartment.

“Just – talk to him when he comes back,” Izuku advises. “I’ll give you some space. But he will come back, Kacchan. You know he hates not talking out an argument.”

“Yeah.”

He’s restless, though. Waiting for Halfie to come back. Doesn’t even know where he fucks off to, either, which is disconcerting as shit. Every goddamn time Katsuki lets these two losers out of his sight, one of them gets hurt. Basic ass math. He’s not there, they’re doing some dumb shit like tobogganing down a hill and breaking a leg (Izuku) or giving themselves mild electrical shocks trying to use a fork to save a too-thick slice of brioche bread from the toaster (Shou).

He's the goddamn pillar of sensibility around here. Disgraceful.

He makes soba, does the dishes, showers. Leaves his hearing aids in even though he’s overstimulated as fuck by now (usually is after a long day). Shou is gonna come home and he’s gonna be goddamn ready.

They’re in bed when the door opens and closes quietly. Izuku – sprawled over his chest and playing on his phone – sits up, gives him a comforting smile, and nudges him.

“Go.”

He pads out of bed. Into the kitchen. Halfie’s found the soba, and he’s sitting at their dinky ass breakfast counter, shoulders hunched. Looks fucking – lonely as hell, and Katsuki aches, because it’s the world’s worst kept goddamn secret that Shou hates eating alone.

He’s never told them why. Never even told them that he does. It’s just that goddamn obvious. Idiot Halfie will put off eating for hours in an effort to be able to eat with them. It’s why they have a dining table instead of being normal twenty-somethings happy to eat on the couch.

He’s eating alone now, though. Probably thinks they went to bed without waiting for him.

He opens his mouth – realises his arms are crossed defensively over his chest – double-realises he doesn’t want Shou to misread him, or even get the opportunity to.

He lets them hang limp by his sides, leaves himself exposed.

“Y’okay?”

Probably should’ve started with something else.

Halfie turns in his seat – dumb mochi cheeks full of food as he chews – and Katsuki’s fucking hopelessly gone on the asshole.

“Waited up for you,” he grunts. “Didn’t wanna crowd you as soon as you got back. Figured you’d be nervous.”

Shou blinks, looks away, and eyes his soba like the secrets of the goddamn universe exist inside the hole he’s managed to eat in it already.

Katsuki feels his face twitch and fights to keep a scowl off it. “Where’d you go?” he asks.

Halfie looks sideways then, towards the hallway, like he’s eyeing off an escape route or maybe looking for Deku. “For a walk,” he mumbles.

“A five-hour walk?”

He’s being a dick – recognises it – reigns it back in forcibly. “Fuck,” he says, right as Shou opens his mouth. “Sorry, shortcake.” Goddamn pet names slipping out, but what’s a guy to do when Halfie’s looking all stepped-on like that? “We were worried. Nerd’s all worked up-” Not just Izuku, shit. “And I’m fucking – I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

Not the way it was taken, anyway. It didn’t come out right.

Shouto nibbles his lip. “I’m inexperienced, not stupid,” he says, and he’s fucking – Katsuki can read that minute change in tone a mile away; he hurt shortcake’s fucking feelings.

“Fuck,” he says. “I know, Halfie.” He really fucking does. “I’m really sorry.”

Shouto sighs, a big breath that shudders a little, and lets it go; the foot that had been on the barstool drops so that he can sit more comfortably, less defensively.

“Is this apology soba?”

Thank fuck.

“Yeah. S’fuckin’ apology soba. You gonna eat it?”

Shouto blinks up at him, big ol’ cow-eyes in full effect. “Will you sit with me?”

Fuuuuck.

He storms over to the other barstool and sits down. “Whatever.”

Deku appears at some point, and they all talk about Shou’s sudden weird-ass obsession with his stupid dating life, and they sort of get an explanation. And tell him they’re not gonna kick him out, because what the fuck.

“So it’s not a problem? That I’m dating?”

Katsuki finds himself looking at Izuku – Izuku, who looks momentarily just, fucking devastated. Like he can’t comprehend the idea of Shouto going out and meeting people and falling in love and telling them dumb animal facts and stealing all their best t-shirts.

Like he didn’t just tell Katsuki off for losing his shit over it.

“No problem at all,” Deku says.

What a fucking liar.

Chapter Text

“We can’t keep telling him it’s okay and then making it seem not okay.”

Kacchan glowers at him over his chicken. “It’s not fucking okay.”

Izuku throws his hands up, exasperated. Kacchan’s never, ever cared this much about who Shouto hangs out with – and now, suddenly, he does? Enough to make him feel bad and then make him apology soba?

“You don’t like it either.”

“I,” Izuku says, but he doesn’t lie, and not to them, and Kacchan is – right, he doesn’t, he really doesn’t.

“Knew it,” Kacchan says.

Izuku scowls. “Why are you so hung up on this?” he demands. “Shouto’s gonna suffer for it-”

“You like him,” Kacchan interrupts, a statement, not a question, and Izuku-

“What?” he stammers. Kacchan’s looking at him, gaze steady and immutable the way it gets when he knows beyond reasonable doubt that he’s right about something. Usually it’s about something like specific meat marinades or the exact voltage it takes for Denki to fry himself, but-

“I – I don’t-”

“Icyhot,” Kacchan says, his face drawing into a familiar scowl. “You like him. Don’t deny it, nerd – I see the way you look at him. It fuckin’ bothers you that he’s going out with that extra-”

“His name is Kaito,” Izuku hears himself say.

Like him? Of course he likes Shouto. Shouto is amazing! He’s wonderful really – he’s kind and he listens and he tilts his head when he’s listening really hard or thinking really hard, and he always gives good advice, and he loves to try new things. And he’s smart, and he’s caring, and he’s – really kind of beautiful too (okay, no kind-of about it) and Izuku has eyes, and common sense, so yeah. Of course he likes Shouto!

But that’s not the kind of like Kacchan means, which-

“Like it fuckin’ matters what his stupid name is! It bothers me too, fuck. Halfie’s too good for any of these budget extras and you know it.”

“I don’t-” His ears are ringing. “Kacchan, I love you, I-”

“Fuck me, Deku, I’m not saying you don’t. But you love him too, right?”

Is that what it is? He doesn’t feel the same for Shouto as he does for Kacchan, it’s – different, but the same. He doesn’t like Shouto going out with Kaito. He doesn’t like Shouto going out with anyone who isn’t them and he’s not even possessive, really, he wants Shouto to be happy and healthy and get everything he wants from life because that’s what he deserves, especially after everything-

But he wants Shouto to get it from him. From – them.

He stares up at Kacchan, eyes stinging.

“Yeah,” Kacchan sighs. “S’what I figured.”

“Kacchan,” he says wetly. “I – it’s not like I’m going to leave you for him, I-”

Kacchan frowns. “No shit. I know that.”

Kacchan has been possessive as long as they’ve been alive, and this doesn’t make sense at all, this – that he even brought it up or that he doesn’t seem bothered.

“Why aren’t you mad?” Izuku asks, voice cracking.

Kacchan rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe I love him too or whatever,” he mutters, and Izuku gapes. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, damn it. He’s easy to love. Fucking sue me.”

“You seem really calm about this,” Izuku squeaks, and – and what is this? He’s meant to be the one in tune with his feelings! How does it take Kacchan noticing he’s in love with Shouto for Izuku himself to find out?! He had to be told! By his boyfriend! That he’s in love with their best friend!

“Fucking foregone conclusion isn’t it,” Kacchan says flatly. “Goddamn pretty bastard. Swanning around in his dumbass grippy cat socks and our clothes, pouting when he doesn’t get his own way – it’s fucking slutty behaviour, ‘Zuku, fucking – honey-trap shit.”

“Honey-trap,” Izuku repeats faintly.

“Oi! Are you fucking hearing me on this?! We’re both in love with Icyhot! Fucking Icyhot of all people! Fucking, I-am-a-monk, I-know-not-of-debauchery strawberry shortcake!”

“I mean,” Izuku says, still feeling like, really, really faint, “I guess if – if it was going to be anyone…”

“Yeah, fucking figures,” Kacchan grumbles. “Goddamnit. Shit. What now?”

“What – what do you mean, what now?”

Kacchan glares at him, arms crossed – oh. He’s really self-conscious! “The fuck do you mean, what do you mean? What are we gonna do about it?”

“D-do about it…?”

“Oh for fuck’s – Izuku. Are you really fucking fine with him dating fucking Kazue? Some smarmy bastard we’ve never met who keeps taking him to these goddamn low-effort coffee dates? Seriously?”

“His name is Kaito…”

“What the fuck ever! You’re not fine with it and neither am I. Fuck.”

“Okay, maybe I’m not!” He’s flustered and his heart is pounding anxiously. How did Kacchan figure it out? What was he doing to give it away? It – must have been horrible to realise and then to think – “Kacchan, this doesn’t change anything between us-”

“It changes everything,” Kacchan says. “Izuku. Neither of us are fine with him dating someone else and you know what? He isn’t fuckin’ fine either. I went about it the wrong goddamn way but I was still right – he’s gonna get hurt. Why the fuck should he have to?”

“Because – because we’re together! We can’t just-!”

“Why the fuck not?! We already fuckin’ live with him and deal with his fuckin’ – grippy cat socks and tea and daytime k-drama obsession-”

Izuku shakes his head, taking a careful step back.

He loves Kacchan. He probably always has, and they just – fell into this amazing thing one day and kept going with it. He loves Kacchan, and his childhood friend is always going to be his image of life – of beating the odds. Of victory. He’s never strayed, never thought twice about it-

Shouto, though-

“I can’t,” he says. “That’s – no, Kacchan. We can’t just – and he doesn’t even feel that way about us, I can’t-”

“We don’t know that ‘cause we haven’t fucking asked him-”

“You’re talking about adding him to our relationship but you – you haven’t even thought about what he might want!” Izuku protests. “Or – or what I want.”

Kacchan’s eyes widen. “Thought we just established you fucking love him?”

“I love you,” Izuku says desperately, his throat clogged. “I – I don’t know if – if I can do that. Two people at once. I just – I like things how they are, I…”

Kacchan pulls his hands away, and Izuku feels their loss acutely; he rubs at his eyes. “Yeah, okay,” he says, hollow, a little bitter. “Sure.”

“Kacchan-”

“Don’t. Just – it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, don’t say that-”

“What do you want me to say?! I love him. I know you love him too. I don’t wanna pass him around to a buncha shitty extras who don’t know how fuckin’ great he is and let them hurt him and then get him back!”

“You know he’ll spook-”

“Fuck that, he’s not some weak fucking – forest animal – he didn’t spook from fuckface, he’s not gonna spook from us!”

“Kacchan, I said I can’t!”

His voice cracks. Tears roll down his cheeks, hot and salty, and Kacchan blurs into a white and red smear in his vision. He hates crying. He hates how predisposed he is to it. He hates that when he does it Kacchan feels like the bad guy even though Izuku never wants that, never intends that – he hates that when they fight and he cries Shouto assumes he’s the one who was more hurt when-

“Fine,” Kacchan says tonelessly, and turns to leave.

Izuku wants to chase him because that’s what he’s always done – he’s always chased Kacchan and Kacchan has always run. Their conflict styles are totally different and as much as he needs to push, Kacchan needs to pull.

So Izuku lets him, retreating to the bedroom and mopping uselessly at his eyes. He hears noise in the kitchen – at some point, the sound of their front door opening and closing.

“I’m home,” comes Shouto’s soft, deep voice.

Izuku closes his eyes.

Shouto.

Of course he loves Shouto. Everyone who knows Shouto loves him. It doesn’t make Izuku special to love him and it doesn’t mean that-

No. Kacchan was right. Izuku is a lot of things but he isn’t a liar and he doesn’t hide from his feelings anymore.

Low murmuring in the kitchen. Shouto sounds concerned, Kacchan harried. The kettle clicks.

A soft tap on the door brings his head out of his knees. “Shou?” he croaks, because Kacchan wouldn’t knock and never that gently – but he didn’t hear Shouto approaching the door.

The door creaks open. Shouto peers at him curiously, his blue eye showing more than his grey one. “Yeah,” he says, and holds up a mug. “I made you tea.”

Izuku isn’t sure who put it in Shouto’s head that making tea was the thing to do when people are sad, but he should really thank them, because he already feels a bit better. Shouto picks his way carefully across the room and hands it to him – it’s even in his favourite mug, an All Might one that uses All Might’s arms as the handles.

Even Shouto thinks the mug is creepy, so it means a lot that he chose this particular one. “It stares at me,” he’d said once, arms crossed over the counter and his chin resting on them. “Even when I leave the room.”

A bit dramatic, but Izuku had been in peals of laughter over it. Shouto is so serious – but he can be so silly, and his seriousness only makes it funnier.

“Thank you,” he says, a tiny smile tugging at his face with the memory.

Shouto perches on the edge of the bed. He looks nice in a crisp, maroon button-down shirt and blue jeans, and his hair is pushed slightly off his face – he had a date with Kaito, and that just makes Izuku’s gut clench with the two-fold threat of losing Shouto and fighting with Kacchan over it.

He does love Shouto. He does. He doesn’t want Kaito to have Shouto because there’s no way anyone else in the world knows how special Shouto actually is, except for Kacchan maybe.

But he can’t have Shou because he’s with Kacchan and he can’t expect Shouto to put his life on hold when he’s waited so long to finally take this step. It would be cruel.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shouto asks, his voice quiet.

He drags his hand over his eyes, feels his fingers shaking. “I’m not really sure I can, Shou,” he whispers. “Thanks for offering, though. Do you mind staying?”

He shouldn’t ask that. He’s not a baby. Shouto’s got way better things to do-

“No,” Shouto says truthfully, folding one leg comfortably underneath him and fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, where it’s rolled up to his elbow. “Katsuki is banging around in the kitchen. He decimated a carrot.”

Izuku blinks, unsure of where this might be going. It’s hard to tell with Shouto sometimes. “A carrot?”

“Yeah,” Shouto says, as if it all makes sense (it doesn’t). “I think he was attempting to dice it but he… minced it.”

Probably because he’s angry. Because he figured out that Izuku loves Shouto too. In fairness though! Izuku didn’t know that until it was called out. Until the possibility of Shouto leaving them became a frightening reality. It’s been the three of them since school, since they were fifteen, through everything and anything. They’ve survived more in eight years than most heroes have in a lifetime.

Shouto can’t leave.

Hands take his mug from him, and Izuku finds himself wrapped gently in strong, warm arms. Shouto is really getting so much better with contact – he even lets Izuku cling to him and sniffle grossly into his shoulder, into his nice date shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “That you fought. You always make up eventually. He’ll apologise, and he’ll mean it.”

Oh, this is awful. Shouto thinks Kacchan is at fault and he’s not, not really – they both are. And he hates the idea that Kacchan is chopping vegetables like that because he’s upset. He just – he hates it when they hurt each other.

When the first sob rolls through him, Shouto gives him a soft, sympathetic noise and holds him tighter. “How do you know?” Izuku whimpers.

“He’s making katsudon, I think.”

A true Kacchan apology – someone’s favourite meal, made without fuss or being asked. It took Izuku a long time to see it for what it was – Kacchan isn’t always good with words or feelings, but actions are easy.

Shouto rubs his back soothingly. His hand is really warm, his hair soft against Izuku’s cheek, his skin soft and lightly scented like rain, some fancy cologne that only filthy-rich people like Shouto’s family would ever consider buying.

“Shou?” he asks softly.

“Hmm?”

Izuku smiles a little. Shouto sounds like he’s dozing off. He does that, when he’s warm and feels safe. Izuku loves that he does it with them. Having Shouto’s trust feels like nothing else in the world – except, maybe, the way it feels when Kacchan has a nightmare or is hurt and leans on Izuku and lets Izuku help him.

“Do you think it’s possible to love two people at once?” he whispers. “Romantically?”

“Yes,” Shouto says, and Izuku opens and closes his mouth, surprised. That was – really fast. Shouto didn’t even stop to think about it, which means he’s probably thought about it before, more than once. Kacchan likes to say that Shouto is no-thoughts-head-empty, but really, Shouto spends a lot of his time thinking, and that’s probably why he’s so quiet.

“I think you can,” Shouto adds thoughtfully.

“Do you… think it’s cheating?” Izuku asks tentatively. He’s running a risk here, it feels like, but he – needs to know what Shouto’s thoughts are on it.

He doesn’t want Shouto to think he’s a bad person. Or that Kacchan is.

Shouto withdraws his hug, tilts his head to the side just-so like he does when he’s really thinking about something. “I guess that depends if you act on it,” he settles for, finally.

Izuku makes a face. Neither he or Kacchan have done anything except talk, and does it even count when they both feel the same way about the same person but they’re in a relationship with each other?

“It’s a little complicated,” he hedges.

Shouto frowns at him. It’s particularly noticeable with his hair swept back like a model. “Kaminari’s explanation of strip club etiquette was complicated, and I solved that. I think I can solve this too.”

He chuckles through a few more tears – wipes his eyes, bemoaning silently that he’s this much of a mess when Shouto is trying so hard to be good to him – and then steels himself, deciding to give it a go. Shouto really wants to help, and even talking about it will get it off his chest.

“If Person A had feelings for Person B, but they were already in a relationship with Person C, and they told Person C in the interest of being honest – but they didn’t act on anything – would… that be cheating?”

God. How the hell is Shouto supposed to understand that? Izuku barely understood it and he-

“No,” Shouto says, his tone final.

Izuku blinks. “How come?” And how did he even understand what Izuku was saying?

“Person A didn’t attempt to lie or hide their feelings, and feelings can’t be helped. They were honest with their partner. I think cheating… requires subterfuge.”

“Subterfuge?” Trust Shou-kun to bring a word like that into a conversation like this. It almost makes Izuku smile.

Shouto does that really cute head-tilting thing that tells Izuku he’s thinking hard on something. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “If Person A told Person C and Person C said it was fine, or even fine with them if Person A pursued Person B, I don’t think that’s cheating, because everything is out in the open. I think it’s the lying and potential for sneaking around that constitutes as the cheating.”

Oh. Huh. That’s – really insightful. Especially from someone with no romantic relationship experience – but maybe that just means Shouto can look at it from a really objective angle. And according to this, neither Izuku or Kacchan are cheating, because they’ve been honest with each other.

“Oh. That – actually, that makes a lot of sense, Shou.”

Shouto smiles – something breathtaking that has Izuku staring at him – for the briefest moment before it falls and he says, “Has Katsuki developed feelings for someone else?”

Oh shit. Shouto is – really perceptive sometimes. Really not perceptive in others, but usually spot-on when Izuku doesn’t want him to be.

“Wh-what makes you say that?” he squeaks out.

Calmly, Shouto lays out exactly what made him think that (and he’s half right, damn it! How is he always half right and half completely wrong about things?). “Well, this conversation did happen right after an argument and you were crying… but you said you weren’t sure if you could talk about it, so I’ll respect that,” he says slowly.

At least it’s not like the secret love child debacle where Shouto pushed it until Izuku came up with a lame enough excuse – but Shouto was a really different person then, so it might not be a fair comparison to make.

“Thank you, Shouto,” he sighs.

“But – Izuku?”

Izuku looks up. Shouto’s already watching him, his eyes pinched just a little in concern, his cool right hand still on Izuku’s shoulder.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he admits finally.

Oh. Oh. Shouto is – he’s sweet. He’s unbearably kind sometimes, in a way that someone with his history maybe shouldn’t be able to be, and that’s what makes it so special.

“Oh, Shou…”

He hugs his friend again. Tight. Buries his face in his shoulder and inhales his scent and says, “You’re really sweet,” because Shouto deserves to hear it, a million times. “Kacchan didn’t… hurt me. We just disagreed, that’s all.”

About whether or not I love you like I love him. And he was right. I do.

“This argument was as much my fault as his,” Izuku admits. “And I just don’t want you to get caught in the middle of it.”

Shouto gives him a soft squeeze. “I understand,” he says quietly. “Thank you for considering me that way.”

Izuku tries to smile, but – Kacchan. Oh. Kacchan’s in love with Shouto and Shouto went on a date today. Kacchan – will probably be upset. Izuku is too, a little. He has no right to be. He knows that, so he keeps a tight lid on it and tries to be the best friend he can be.

“How’s, um. How’s Kaito? You were out with him today, right?”

“Yes. He’s good. We saw a movie.”

Izuku wonders if Kaito held his hand. If it was the warm one or cold one. Does he know that Shouto specifically likes the strawberry and lemon Skittles in a packet?

“Is it… going to go anywhere, do you think?”

For Kacchan, he tells himself. I’m asking for Kacchan.

Shoucchan tips his head sideways – he’s thinking hard about it, and Izuku waits patiently for his answer. Sometimes it takes him a little bit longer, but he always gets there, and he’s always, always honest with them. Even if sometimes it hurts.

“I’m not sure,” Shouto says finally. “I haven’t got strong feelings about him, but I usually don’t.”

Relief washes through him. No strong feelings – but it sounds like Shouto hasn’t ruled it out.

“Right. Um – you don’t need to force yourself, y’know? If you find that you’re just not – vibing with him well – it’s okay to stop seeing him. That’s a good enough reason.”

Shouto blinks big, pretty eyes at him. “Vibing,” he parrots, and the word sounds like it’s entirely new to his speech patterns. Which – it probably is.

“Yeah. Like – he’s nice but there’s no sparks or whatever, or you don’t have enough in common.”

“I think it’s too early to tell.”

That’s – that’s good, right? It might end without even beginning-

Oh. He feels horrible, thinking like that. This is important to Shouto, and it’s not like – it’s not like he and Kacchan can have him, and Izuku should – should want it to go well.

“Okay, Shou. As long as you know.”

“I do. Thank you. You’re a really good friend.”

Shou wouldn’t be saying that if he knew what Izuku was thinking. His eyes brim again, and he sniffles, but he manages to drag in a deep, steadying breath and turn his mind to other problems.

Like his actual boyfriend, who’s – probably hurt and simmering alone in the kitchen. And even though Izuku knows that Kacchan prefers it that way – to be given space and left alone to process – he wants to press. To let him know he doesn’t need to be.

“Do you think Kacchan’s ready to talk?”

Shouto gives him a warm, reassuring smile. “He wanted me to check on you.”

Oh, Kacchan. “Right,” he murmurs.

Shouto tilts his head, scratches at his cheek, right where his scar meets smooth, pale flesh. “Do you want me to leave the apartment while you two…?”

“No!” Izuku blurts, lunging forward to grab one of Shouto’s hands – the cold one. “No, Shouto. This is your home. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to leave because Kacchan and I are fighting, I’m sorry.” They really need to stop letting the fighting spill over to Shou – it’s really not fair on him to have to deal with it, and-

“I was referring to the makeup sex, actually-”

Heat floods his face; he puts his hands over it, but not before letting out an embarrassed little wail, and not before Shouto sees. “Will I need my noise cancelling headphones?”

Shou-kun is going to kill him. Unintentionally, even.

“Ah… it might be a good idea, yeah.”

Chapter Text

He apologises to Izu.

And the nerd apologises to him too. It’s out in the open, now – they reach something that looks like a fucking truce: Izuku knows it’s in the open but doesn’t want to do anything about it, and Katsuki is content to not do anything about it yet – huge fucking emphasis on the yet – as long as they don’t shove it under the rug and pretend it’s not fucking there.

The sky is blue, bears shit in the woods, grapehead fuck will never not be a sex pest, and they’re in love with their dumbass best friend. Immutable facts Katsuki can safely build his world on.

“We probably kept him awake last night.”

Izuku’s tracing patterns on his chest – where he’s left bite marks, the little fucker – and looking all fucking abashed. Like he wasn’t the one begging for more. Christ.

“He’s a big boy,” Katsuki mutters. “Got his noise cancelling headphones.”

“Still. I feel bad. Maybe we should get coffee? To make up for it?”

“Fuck off! We didn’t do anything wrong!”

~*~

One miserably cold trip to their local café, three overpriced coffees and a share pack of ludicrously fucking overpriced pastries later, they’re back home.

“Gonna give him diabetes,” Katsuki mutters.

“He’ll love it,” Izuku insists, shedding everything except his boxers. It’s warm inside – they left the thermostat on – and sometimes when Shou is real sleepy and gets cold he heats up the whole place subconsciously.

Halfie appears less than five minutes later, hair all kicked up, eyes half-closed, stumbling around like a goddamn newborn farm animal. Ridiculous. Indecent. Katsuki hates him. Shou just exists like that and Katsuki can’t fucking squeeze his cheeks or wrestle him into a hug-

Halfie’s in his fucking clothes. Shit. Halfie’s in his clothes and they’re too big. This is way fucking worse than him being shirtless, or even naked. Christ. What does he do with this knowledge?

“Coffee?” he asks hopefully, eyes opening fully as he enters the room.

Worst part is, Katsuki can’t tell who likes it more – him, or the fucking nerd. Izu’s practically drooling on the floor, the sight of strawberry goddamn shortcake in Katsuki’s favourite skull t-shirt apparently too much for his tiny, horny brain to deal with.

God, and Katsuki thought he’d managed to fuck it totally out of him last night. Rookie goddamn mistake. He knew he should’ve gone for round three.

Shou slips into the hallway to take a call, and Katsuki rounds on Izuku. “Keep it in your fucking pants!” he hisses.

“This is your fault!” Izuku whispers back, frantic, his hands threaded through his fuck-off curly hair. “I didn’t even know about this until you told me! And it’s your shirt!”

“Laundry is your goddamn chore!”

“I didn’t–! He looks really beautiful in your clothes, Kacchan!”

“Whatever! Just – fucking – get it together! Fuck are you thinking – it ummm looks really good on you please don’t change-”

“I don’t sound like that!”

Footsteps in the hallway. They rearrange themselves – Katsuki flicks Deku with the closest tea towel, and Deku sends Blackwhip back at him, scowling.

Shouto goes straight for the pastry box, mindless of the morning violence. Of course. Katsuki’s skin itches – who the fuck calls this early? Why’d Shou even need to go to the goddamn hallway?

Unless it’s fucking – private. Unless it’s talking date shit with – ugh.

“That whatshisface?” he mutters.

Deku shoots him a look, which – fuck off. Those looks don’t work on him anymore. He’s immune. Twenty years of goddamn Deku being self-righteous in his face will do that.

“Kaito?” Halfie asks, finding a pastry and smiling a little as he does. “No. It was Momo. She wants my help on a case.”

“Case?” he asks. “What kinda case?” Ponytail’s agency is legendary for the truly obscene complex shit they pull off regularly, but she never calls him or the nerd to help – says they “cause too much property damage” and that their quirks “aren’t suited to delicate or sensitive operations”. Like Shouto I-blew-up-an-entire-arena-because-I-was-upset Todoroki is the epitome of delicate or sensitive.

“Oi,” he says, when Halfie doesn’t answer – too busy eating a strawberry tart, cheeks at maximum hamster mode, still wearing his goddamn shirt. “Are you listening to me?”

“No,” Shouto says.

~*~

“I’m going out.”

Halfie’s all dressed up. Looks nice in a crisp button-down shirt – white with blue and purple flowers, black jeans – and he’s – hah? Going out?

Where to?

The fuck?

“Okay,” Deku says, smiling. He’s settled in under Katsuki’s arm, warm and solid, his fingers drumming a beat on Katsuki’s thigh.

“See ya, Halfie,” he mutters, trying for the same level of chill and failing fucking spectacularly.

The door closes. The apartment is silent.

“Where the fuck is he going?” Katsuki demands, lurching off the couch to pace. “It’s night!”

“Kacchan, it’s barely six,” the nerd says patiently.

“Yeah, and Icyhot’s a goddamn old man at heart! He should be in his stupid cat pyjamas drinking hot chocolate!”

“He’s allowed to go out…” Deku, the bastard, looks more amused than anything else. He’s resting his chin on his hand and smiling. “It’s nice you care.”

“Fuck off! Icyhot doesn’t just go out. He needs fuckin’ twenty-four-hour notice and a formal written request to leave the house past dark!”

“I guess it is a little weird,” Deku admits, chewing his lip. “And he looked really nice.”

“That cagey little asshole,” Katsuki realises. “He’s sneaking out to see that Kanta fuckhead-”

“His name is Kaito,” Izuku says tiredly, “and he didn’t exactly sneak, Kacchan, he walked out and told us he was leaving. That’s not very sneaky.”

“He didn’t say where he was going,” Katsuki insists.

“He doesn’t have to,” Izuku laughs. “He’s an adult. Will you please sit down and relax? If it’s that important to you, just message him and ask where he is.”

Katsuki puffs out a breath, little explosions crackling in his hands. “Reckon he’d tell us?”

“Of course he would,” Izuku soothes. “Shou-kun will do anything if you ask him nicely, you know that.”

Damn it. Damn it. He hates caring this much. At least with Izuku it’s fucking fine because they’re together, in a relationship, fucking, whatever you wanna call it. He can’t do anything about it with Halfie. He’s unhinged. He knows he’s fucking unhinged and he doesn’t care enough to stop it.

He messages their group chat, puts his phone down, picks it up when it chimes right away. Shou must have his phone on him and be able to text without feeling rude.

God, asshole isn’t even treating him right, leaving him alone.

“He’s at Manchuria,” Katsuki mutters. Nice place – good cocktails, strong ones, shit. “With whatshisface.”

Izuku must be worried, because he doesn’t pull Katsuki up on not getting whatshisface’s name right. “They sell pretty strong cocktails there,” he frets. “And Shou doesn’t drink much.”

They’re probably both remembering having to peel him out of the shithole he went to with Camie, and the resulting walk up to their apartment, and the hangover.

“He says he’ll be home by eight,” Izuku says, thumbing at his phone.

“Cool,” Katsuki mutters, flinging himself into the couch. “He ain’t home by eight-oh-fucking-one I’m gonna go get him.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

“You can sure as shit try.”

~*~

When eight-oh-fucking-one hits, Katsuki is off the couch and out the door.

Izuku sighs, sounding defeated, but Katsuki would rather go Manchuria and get iced to the floor in retaliation for cockblocking than find out something had happened and he didn’t go. Halfie’s still not good at asking for help, sometimes, is harder on himself than he is others.

So they do what they can to mitigate that. And if he goes and he’s wrong – fucking honest mistake. Halfie will forgive him for an honest mistake. He forgave his shit-for-brains father, after all.

But Shou keeps promises. Even little, stupid ones, like, “I’ll be home by eight”. Which he isn’t.

The guards don’t tell him jack shit, and he has to pay door entry, and then he has to go through every goddamn room and floor of this shitty, overpriced, way-too-tall place, and by the time he’s storming out into a back alley, he’s seething.

Fucking shitty ass guards, not telling him if Halfie is here, like he’s hard to mistake for anyone else-

A noise catches his attention, something small and nervous – his head turns and he sees a shock of red and white hair against the black backdrop of the alleyway, and his heart clenches up in his chest because that’s their Shou kissing some loser extra in an alleyway, and he deserves way fucking better than that-

“Wait,” Shouto mumbles, his head tipped away. He shrinks a little – nowhere to go with the wall – and the fuckhead he’s with, Kazue or some shit, forces himself closer.

“You’re right,” Katsuki hears. “Should go back to my place instead-”

Halfie said wait and this absolute fuckhead human is ignoring him – Halfie said wait and doesn’t look happy and he’s not doing anything about it, not shoving back or using his goddamn quirk or anything, like he’s just a statue, just-

A trauma response. Izuku’s said it before, that Icyhot just shuts down sometimes when he can’t handle things, curls inwards, waits for it to be over. Exactly the way he probably fucking had to when he was a kid and his dad was beating the shit out of him-

“OI!” he bellows.

Kousei or whatever the fuck leaps back like he’s been shocked but not far enough – Icyhot’s head turns towards them, shit, Izuku is gonna fuck him up for not minding his own business here – and then the extra says, “Can we help you-?”

“Yeah you can fuckin’ help me!” Katsuki barks, deciding the hell with Izuku and he’ll deal with it later. “What part of wait didn’t you understand, dumbass?”

Shouto makes a face – something briefly panicked before he gets his shit on lock – Katsuki sees the extra’s hand on his hip – hears him say something but doesn’t give a fuck what.

“Sure as shit does concern me,” he snarls. “He look like he wants to be there?”

The answer is no. Shou looks worried as all shit. It’s almost like he hasn’t registered that Katsuki is here, or thinks Katsuki will be convinced by this fucking loser that he can just leave and it’ll be fine, like hell.

“If Shouto has something to say, I’m sure he can tell me himself,” Kouta (Katsuki is sure that’s not his name as much as he’s sure he doesn’t give a single flying fuck what his name is) insists.

“Fuckin’ tried and you didn’t listen,” Katsuki growls, keeps approaching – this guy just isn’t letting up and Shou still isn’t doing anything, frozen in place.

“This is none of your-”

Katsuki’s extremely fucking thin patience snaps, and he finds himself bellowing, “Fucking scram!” and watching as the asshole, Kenji or whatever, legs it out of the alleyway like some kind of kicked mutt. Fucking good riddance. Maybe he’ll get hit by a bus.

Katsuki almost gives chase – it’s in his blood to do it, seeing fucking criminals getting away with shit and as far as he’s concerned Shou was just assaulted – but then he hears Halfie take a very shaky, very shallow breath, exhale, and then take another.

“Icyhot,” he calls worriedly, approaching him – Shouto looks up at him, eyes all foggy and a million miles away. “Hey.”

He doesn’t say anything back. Just stares.

“Halfie,” Katsuki says softly, and chances putting a hand on his shoulder – Izuku says not to touch him when he’s like this but shortcake is fucking half gone and Katsuki doesn’t know how else to bring him back.

When the hand isn’t rejected, he puts the other on Icyhot’s neck. Feels his pulse hammering away like he’s just fought a villain. “Hey. You alright? Y’okay?”

“Yeah,” Halfie mumbles, voice thick and quiet. “What are you doing here?”

What’s he-? “What am I-? Fuck’s sake, Halfie!”

Shou blinks at him, not seeming to comprehend why Katsuki is losing his shit again. “You said you’d be home by eight and it’s past nine!” he tries, no reaction. “You never deviate from your goddamn sleep schedule!”

Still nothing, Christ. Shou’s still shaking, too, and his breathing is all fucked up. “Goddamn worried something had happened to you – went into that shithole and couldn’t see you, bouncers wouldn’t tell me fuck all because they’re fucking useless-”

What if he’d left already? Gone with fuckface? To another bar, or to his place, like he was suggesting? Would the piece of shit even have stopped if Halfie hadn’t been comfortable?

“What if he fucking did something to you?” Katsuki demands, beyond upset, yeah he’s fucking upset, sue him. “What the fuck would you – this alleyway is shit, fuck, you deserve better than this and that fucking hellhole, princess-”

Shouto blinks again. He’s a thousand miles away, except – there’s something in his eyes, like he’s – glad or some shit. He hasn’t made a move to get away from Katsuki’s hands even though he’s getting yelled at. And fuck, Katsuki shouldn’t yell at him. It’s not gonna help anyone but he was scared.

“Fuck,” he says. Takes a step back, tries to regroup, fails. “Christ! What the fuck was that?”

Shou could’ve been – and Katsuki knew, he fucking knew from the start, he called it, said it wasn’t safe, because Shouto’s got the street smarts of a spoiled indoor cat.

“I was kissing. What did it look like?”

Of all the fucking things Halfie chooses to focus on-

“Looked a hell of a lot like you didn’t wanna be kissing, shortcake.”

A pretty blush starts in Shou’s cheeks, staining down into his neck as well, and Katsuki shouldn’t find it attractive but fuck it – it is. Except then Halfie looks away and mumbles, “I was fine.”

The fucking lies out of this guy – “Bullshit. He was slobbering over you like a fuckin’ pitbull with a bone. What, no one ever taught you how to say no?”

Fuck. He should not have said that. Izuku’ll throw him off a building for that one, if Katsuki doesn’t find an appropriate way to self-flagellate before then. Shit.

He’s expecting kickback from it, because as docile as Shou is usually, he’s got some bite when he feels disrespected – he’ll push back and snap and he’s fucking mean as all hell when he wants to be, really cuts deep.

But shortcake – doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move, doesn’t meet Katsuki’s eyes.

Holy shit.

The relentless researching – turning to the dumbass bird app for advice – turning to dunce-face and Camie for advice of all people – coming out with weird shit at the table – the sudden, stubborn resolution to date, whether or not he actually felt anything for anyone-

Halfie’s a virgin. At least in most ways. And he’s clearly trying not to be.

Nobody’s ever taught him shit. Probably because they, like Katsuki, assumed that Shouto would’ve – well, fucking look at him. He’s drop-dead gorgeous – he’s smart – he’s fucking kind. ‘Course people are gonna assume that he’s done all that shit, because – because who the hell looks at this guy and says no thanks, I’ll pass?

“Fuck,” he says blankly.

Shou looks up at him warily. Can’t seem to decide if he’s scared or angry or a combination of the two. He’s still kind of shaky, but his face is all red.

“I’m fine,” he says suddenly, and Katsuki is forced to back up when he leans away from the wall. “Let’s go home.”

Shit, shit, shit. “Look, Halfie,” he begins awkwardly, “it – it’s not a big deal.” Shou curls in on himself, and Katsuki commits to digging his own grave even deeper. “Fuck, there are so many other things that are more important than fucking-”

There it is – that little flare of defiance Katsuki has wanted to see for the past five minutes, bright and glittering like a warning in Shouto’s eyes. “Easy for you to say,” he says, voice laced with derision, “you’ve done it. It’s easy for you.”

Yeah, okay. That – wasn’t the right thing to say. Fuck, when has “don’t worry” ever made people less worried, after all?

“Okay, fuck, fine!” he says, holding his hands up, and Icyhot relaxes by about a hair. “You’re right. But – Jesus, Icyhot, there are better fucking ways to do it than this. That extra could’ve-”

Katsuki’s throat closes. He went to a rape case two weeks ago, a villain with a pheromone quirk. Remembers how empty and shellshocked the victim had looked. Remembers that it had been eerily similar to how Shouto was looking just now.

He looks away. His heart pounds. He almost didn’t get here on time and then what would’ve happened?

Shouto’s silent, even though his gaze has softened just a little. Katsuki forces himself to keep talking. Shou’s not angry with him anymore.

“Didn’t realise when you said you were inexperienced, you meant – totally inexperienced,” he mumbles lamely, and even if that’s the truth, he’s starting to think he probably should have fucking known. “Was fuckin’ – thought you were in trouble or something, you didn’t come home when you said you would.”

Ugh. He sounds pleading even to his own stupid ears and he’s partially deaf. Even though it’s true – even though Shou was in trouble. Whether or not the pretty moron will admit it.

Shouto’s warm left hand pulls gently on his sleeve, and he forces himself to meet shortcake’s gaze – his eyes have gone back to normal, all soft and sweet like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth (Deku calls them cow eyes and yeah, that’s pretty fucking accurate). Whatever explanation Katsuki just painfully stumbled through, some of it must have hit home, because Shouto definitely isn’t mad at him anymore.

“I’m fine,” Halfie says, his voice soft and too quiet but completely truthful. “Let’s go home. Izuku will be worried about us.”

Izuku is losing his shit at home, worried about Shouto and demanding that Katsuki mind his own business and thank God he didn’t. Thank fucking – if something had happened-

“Tch,” he says, and he follows when Shouto pushes off the wall properly and makes his way back towards the proper street. “Shitty nerd will be worried about you, maybe, I can take care of myself.”

He sees Halfie’s mouth curve up – a smile. Something in his chest relaxes, and he tells himself it’s just the bullshit tension left behind from multiple invasive heart surgeries acting up even when he knows that isn’t it. He hates it – bad enough that Izuku got under the wire and Katsuki worries about him, but now Halfie too?

Unavoidable though. He’s been keeping an eye on this moron ever since his teen angst self trauma-dumped on Deku right before their sports festival match. Halfie was there before the wire even went up. Shit.

“Thank you,” Shouto says, bumping Katsuki’s elbow just slightly.

“The fuck-?” he demands, aghast, that Shou thinks he should be thanked for this. Jesus, is common decency a relic of the fucking past or something? “Don’t thank me, Halfie, just do better!”

~*~

He takes Halfie home.

Damn candy cane is real quiet – still probably shellshocked and Katsuki can’t even really blame him. He’ll respond if Katsuki talks, but otherwise, he’s just-

Yeah. Quiet.

When they get back, he beelines for the shower, giving Katsuki a small, halfhearted smile as he does – Katsuki’s shitty heart does something violent and unpleasant in his chest – and Izuku looks up from the kitchen counter, blinking curiously.

“What happened?” he asks, right as the shower in the main bathroom runs.

Katsuki clenches his jaw. “We need to talk,” he mutters, grabbing the nerd by the waist and hauling him off his barstool.

“Kacchan, I was-! Hmph. Fine.” Izuku squirms free of his grip, but follows him, and Katsuki doesn’t think about what might’ve happened to ‘Zuku out there if they weren’t together. He’s just as trusting as Icyhot is, and doesn’t wanna offend anyone – the idea of either of them in that shitty alleyway-

“Kacchan, what’s wrong?” the nerd asks worriedly. His hands come up to cup Katsuki’s cheeks, warm, and he leans into it, grateful for the little kisses Izuku starts planting over his chin and cheeks. “Why did Shou run off like that?”

He doesn’t wanna say because he knows the stupid nerd is gonna worry, but – fuck. There’s no throwing Izuku off the scent now, and he needs to know. He’s gonna be home with Shouto while Katsuki goes to work, so-

“It was that fucking extra,” he says.

Deku’s bright green eyes turn hard and slate-like. “Kaito?”

“You bet.”

He tells the nerd everything – start to fucking finish – watches as Izuku stills and retreats inwards to process, hopefully planning the loser’s untimely demise like Katsuki has been.

“We gotta get him off those apps,” Katsuki insists. “They’re fuckin’ dangerous.”

“Kacchan-”

“He’s gonna do this again!” Katsuki hisses. “You know he is! He’s gonna chalk this up to a one-off and he’s gonna go out there again with some halfwit extra that isn’t good enough for him and he’s gonna get hurt!”

“Kacchan, he’s not stupid,” Izuku protests angrily. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“When the fuck did I say he was stupid?” Katsuki asks disbelievingly. “I didn’t fucking say that. He’s smart as shit and great in a fight and he’s also way too fucking trusting to be going out with strangers.”

Izuku blinks.

“You weren’t there,” Katsuki snaps, rubbing his face violently with both hands. “Okay? He froze up. Did that thing you said he does. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten involved. If he does it again, if we aren’t there-”

Izuku swallows. “Yeah,” he whispers. “But we can’t – we can’t stop him from dating, Kacchan.”

“Then we go with him,” Katsuki says roughly.

The nerd’s jaw drops. “Kacchan!” he says. “How – how do you think that’s going to work? We can’t chaperone him-”

“We’ll hide. We’ll fucking – disguise ourselves or whatever.”

“Disguise ourselves?!”

“Yeah. Camie can do her illusion bullshit-”

“Kacchan, stop,” Izuku says, putting a hand on his chest, and he does, because the shitty nerd has all the power in the world and then some over his dumb fucked up heart. “Stop.”

He takes a breath. Gnaws at his lower lip.

“We can’t stop him from dating,” he says softly. “That’s not fair of us. Shouto wants the same things as everyone else does – he wants to be loved and he wants to love someone back, and he wants to have sex, to build a family. We can’t stop him from doing that.”

“He’s gonna get hurt-”

“Getting hurt is a part of dating-”

“He’s been hurt enough!” Katsuki explodes, how the fuck does the nerd not fucking get this? “He’s been through enough – like it isn’t bad enough his mom fuckin’ burned him and his shit-for-brains dad abused him and all the other shit, now we’re supposed to let him get hurt because he’s trying to – to love someone or whatever? When we can do something about it? Fuck no! I’m not doing that, ‘Zuku.”

Izuku’s eyes water. He sniffles.

Fuck.

“Sorry,” Katsuki sighs, pulling the nerd into him. “I’m fuckin’ sorry. I didn’t mean to – fuck.”

“I know,” Izuku whimpers into his chest. “You know I don’t like it either right? Everything you just said – I agree, of course I agree. I don’t want him to get hurt. Even if it is meant to be part of life.”

Katsuki clutches the nerd tighter. He’ll admit it on his deathbed, but Izuku’s arms are one of the only places he really feels – safe, or good, or like things aren’t going to hell in a handbasket. It’s the same now, except Halfie is still on dating apps.

It’s nothing they can fight. There’s no villain. Just the fucked-up knowledge that Shou is inevitably gonna get hurt, and there’s nothing they can do about it because it’s not their decision to make.

“We love him, ‘Zuku,” he points out desperately.

An alarm on his phone beeps – a warning to get ready for patrol or his ass is gonna be late. But Shou’s still in the shower, and Katsuki – doesn’t wanna leave him.

“Maybe I should call in,” he mumbles, thumbing at the edge of his phone.

Izuku shakes his head, wiping his eyes. “Don’t,” he says. “He – he’ll wanna feel like things are sort of normal. It’s sweet of you to want to, but I think he’ll just feel crowded.”

Katsuki sighs. Yeah. Nerd is right.

“Besides, I’ll be here,” he says with a faint smile.

“Tch. If anyone can get the ice prince to spill his guts, it’s you, nerd.”

Chapter Text

Kacchan leaves for work, which leaves Izuku alone with Shouto.

It’s important to let Shouto come to him. As much as he’s worried about what Kacchan said, about what happened (Shouto in an alley, a pushy date, looking a little scared, looking like he didn’t want-) Izuku knows he has to let Shouto be the one to approach him.

He makes it a calming environment. He waits on the couch while Shouto takes an unusually long shower, and when his friend does appear, looking much less skittish, he smiles widely and says, “I made you tea!” and almost winces with how enthusiastic he sounds.

Shouto, though – Shouto only gives him a small but genuine smile and says, “Thank you,” before joining him on the couch.

Izuku puts a blanket over his legs. Shouto can self-regulate but Izuku knows he likes to snuggle up under something when he’s had a bad day, and he seems like he’s had a bad day.

(Kacchan was so worried. He never says he’s worried but he was scowling his worried-scowl, not his usual resting-scowl, and he was all quiet when he told Izuku about Shouto’s – night. Some of it, anyway, enough for Izuku to also worry. Everything Kacchan was scared of – happened.)

He respects Shouto’s desire and right to experiment and have sex and love and get it. He knows Shouto is a little delayed socially, experience-wise, because who wouldn’t be when they were born to be a weapon and honed into one from the moment they took a breath, then spent their formative teenage years recovering from that, as well as the horrific abuse they endured? It’s a wonder Shouto is alive and functional and a good person.

So it – distresses him, that someone is taking advantage of Shouto’s yearning for connection. For experience.

“Wanna watch something?” he asks, and Shouto’s smile etches a little more firmly into his face, and Izuku is astounded by how beautiful his friend is when he looks like that.

“Yeah.”

He rambles for a bit. Asks how Shouto is and then goes off on a tangent until Shouto (kindly, gently) interrupts him, and then tells him-

Everything.

Shouto is a virgin. Somehow that comes as a surprise even though it shouldn’t, because until very recently Izuku had never seen him with anyone (and had honestly started to think that maybe Shouto just doesn’t – feel those things or that way about anyone, regardless of what parts are attached to them) and now he’s even more worried because Shouto is going out into a world of people who have years’ worth of experiences on him and he’s too good. Too trusting for his own good.

Izuku doesn’t say any of that of course, because Shouto isn’t a baby and wouldn’t take kindly to being treated like one or made to feel and look like a naïve, hapless kid. So he tries to word it as best he can – as supportively as he can.

Shouto has always given him the benefit of the doubt in that regard, even when he’s irritated at Izuku needling his walls and emotions. His occasional annoyance at being “painfully fucking seen” (thanks, Kacchan) is usually married to his begrudging acceptance of it being necessary and even helpful.

“It’s okay, you know,” he starts, and Shouto blinks into his tea, his throat moving over a swallow. “If you haven’t. It’s – I know it’s an important thing.” Obviously, because Shouto is actively trying to make it happen. “And it must be important to you if you’re, um, trying to do it.” Oh, God. Why is he like this? Why is he so awkward about it? It’s just sex. He and Kacchan do it all the time. “But if you haven’t – that’s okay too. The right person won’t care.” He at least knows he’s right about that. “That guy today – he wasn’t the right person. And if you never want to do it… that’s fine too.”

There’s a pause. Shouto is holding his mug with both hands, and while he looks thoughtful, he doesn’t look annoyed (the way he occasionally does when Izuku digs just a little too deep and a little too hard – but he’s getting better at knowing when to back off! Shouto even said so-) and he heaves a quiet sigh before speaking.

“Thanks,” he says, and Izuku relaxes. Shouto wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. His bluntness makes him easy enough to read when he does actually speak. “Mostly people just say things that… aren’t helpful.”

Oh, Izuku loves helping. Especially Shouto, who’s been through so much and is such a beautiful human being, inside and out. Really, Izuku is surprised he hasn’t – because Shouto is gorgeous: he only got prettier as they grew, his features angling just slightly even when his chubby, bouncy cheeks mostly stuck around, and he’s even more devastatingly handsome when he pushes his hair off his face and to the side.

Shouto has always looked younger than them. He’s always seemed younger in some ways, too. The abuse he suffered and the way he grew up has left him in this odd space of knowing far too much for his age and also not enough in other areas. He’s not an idiot – but he relies on them. He’s said as much.

So it’s not Shou’s looks that are preventing him from having sex. It’s something else. Izuku knows from experience that people are willing to overlook social oddities in the name of beauty, so that probably isn’t it either (and Shouto’s social oddities, after being tempered with age and a little experience, are mostly just endearing now).

He hits on an idea. Bites his lip. Decides to push his luck because pushing his luck is kind of his brand. “Is it – um – stop me if I’m getting too personal!” he blurts, and Shouto does that really cute head-tilt thing that says I’m curious and go on at the same time. “But is it because of the touch thing…?”

Shouto blinks, hums a bit. His eyes slide away, looking at some other point in their apartment. A little uncomfortable, but not in a way that tells Izuku he’s overstepped.

“It never felt right,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Izuku murmurs, and wonders what it would take for it to feel right for Shouto. To make him feel safe. Izuku thinks if anyone could make Shou feel safe it would be him and Kacchan, because even now it’s the three of them. Kacchan will make Shouto okayu after a bad nightmare and Izuku will sit with him until he’s ready to sleep again and he’s fine with being vulnerable around them, and sex is definitely submitting to vulnerability, especially where people like Shouto are concerned – people who have spent more time experiencing touch as pain than not.

“I understand,” Izuku says kindly, and Shouto gives him a small, relieved smile, as if saying I knew you would. “It – it will one day, Shou-kun. I promise.”

Shouto nods – but he doesn’t look comforted.

Not in the way Izuku wants, anyway.

~*~

“I got an idea.”

Oh, Izuku loves Kacchan’s ideas, especially when they’re in bed and it’s not too late that they’ll miss out on sleep.

“Yeah?” he asks, bright, and reaches over to grab Kacchan – manhandles him cheerfully until his gorgeous blond boyfriend is straddling his hips and looking really huffy and annoyed about it. An annoyed Kacchan can be really, really fun.

(Or his worst nightmare, but mostly, he’s fun.)

“It’s about Halfie,” Kacchan says. “Reckon I figured out how to sort his dating life out.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku sighs. “We talked about this. Shouto has the right to-”

“Let’s teach him how to fuck,” Kacchan interrupts.

“What?!”

Kacchan claps a hand over his mouth in a not-sexy way. Not like when he’s driving deep into Izuku’s body (or riding him) and putting a hand over his mouth and murmuring, “Careful, ‘Zuku, walls are thin and Halfie’s gonna hear you come,” because he’s evil and he knows that gets Izuku off-

“Are you seriously hard right now?” Kacchan demands.

Izuku lifts his eyebrows pleadingly. It’s not his fault! His brain signals are all confused.

“Fuckin’ horndog,” Kacchan grumbles, but lets him go. “You heard me.”

“You’re gonna need to explain a little more,” Izuku wheezes feebly.

“He’s fucking – scared or whatever,” Kacchan groans. “I dunno, it’s not fear, just – he’s got it built up to be this huge fucking thing in his head and he’s all worried about it. We know we like him. And he’s – fuck, Izu, seein’ him in that alley with that piece of shit-”

“You’re worried he’ll get hurt,” Izuku blurts out.

Kacchan scowls. “Fuckin’ sue me. You weren’t there. He froze up. I dunno if he would’ve done anything. Not his fault, but he wasn’t safe there, Izu. Just figured we – fuck me. We could make it less scary for him. He knows us. We wouldn’t hurt him.”

Izuku worries at his lip. Holds Kacchan’s hips in both hands. Kacchan sits sort of patiently on top of him – he’s vibrating like he wants to move but he doesn’t.

Teach Shouto how to have sex? To make it less scary for him? He knows people do it. Denki and Jirou did, and he and Ochaco did as well. No feelings, necessarily, but – a safer way to figure things out. With friends.

This is – different. He and Kacchan are together, they have feelings for Shouto, and Shouto – who even knows what he’s thinking? Up until recently, Izuku had been operating under the assumption that Shouto was quite possibly on the asexuality spectrum. He didn’t even know that sexual experiences were something his friend wanted.

He should have asked, instead of assuming. Shouto would have been honest, and Izuku could have helped him, maybe. Now it’s something scary, like Kacchan says. Another thing that sets him apart. Shouto’s always felt a little alienated, and this – this would compound that.

It’s probably going to hurt. But – Kacchan is right. After all, who loves Shouto as much as them? Who cares about him more, knows him better? No one. He’s safest with them. Surely – surely he can put aside his reservations to help Shouto out. They both can. This doesn’t – have to mean changing their relationship at its fundamental core.

He’s lying to himself, and he knows it, but just this once, he lets himself justify it.

“This could hurt,” he points out quietly. “Us, I mean. Are you… going to be okay, getting that close and then… letting him go?”

“Who the fuck said anything about letting him go?” Kacchan demands.

“Kacchan… that’s the idea, right? We teach him how to have sex so he isn’t as scared anymore and then we… let him do his own thing?”

“You want that?”

“No,” Izuku says, his voice cracking. “I never wanna lose him, Kacchan. But that’s probably what would happen. You have to know that.”

Kacchan rubs his face tiredly. His eyes are a thousand miles away. Izuku moves a hand to put it on Kacchan’s lower belly, moves it up, because Kacchan really likes having his chest and stomach stroked when he’s worried (not that he’ll ever admit it).

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I know. More important to me that he’s safe.”

“Me too.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Kacchan huffs and rolls off him, onto the bed, aggressively bullying his way into the little spoon position. If Izuku calls attention to it Kacchan will bark about it, and that would normally be funny but… not tonight.

“What changed your mind?” Kacchan asks.

Izuku sighs; the movement jostles Kacchan a little bit, and he huffs. “Everything you said was going to happen… did,” Izuku says softly. “And I – I don’t necessarily – I’m not ready. For a three-way relationship.”

Kacchan opens his mouth to argue, so Izuku beats him to it. “But I agree that it’s not safe,” he rushes on, “and I don’t want that to happen and – Kacchan, I just need some time. I don’t want him to get hurt. I’m – I’m with you on that. But we don’t know how Shouto feels about any of this because we haven’t asked him, and adding a third person to our relationship is – that’s big. It’ll change things. We have to be ready.”

“It’s just shortcake,” Kacchan argues, and oh, that nickname is – is so cute, and so Kacchan, to give it to Shouto. “He’s basically already part of it. When was the last time we went anywhere without him?”

“That’s different, Kacchan, and you know it,” Izuku chides gently.

Kacchan grumbles, but he doesn’t really argue, so Izuku knows his point has gotten through.

“So,” he mutters, his fingers dancing across Izuku’s scarred hand. “How’re we gonna do this?”

“Delicately,” Izuku hisses. “Kacchan, we can’t just spring this on him. He’s – skittish.”

Kacchan makes the verbal equivalent of a keyboard smash and flicks his nose. “Skittish?” he demands. “He ain’t a damn alley cat and it’s us! He trusts us – you know he fuckin’ trusts us.”

“It’s still a really sensitive topic! And it’ll probably come out of the blue for him. The last thing he needs is to think we’re offering him this because we pity him. He hates being pitied.” He sighs. “He might feel a little high-strung too, after Kaito.”

“Tch.” Kacchan rolls off him, huffing, pretty blond hair splayed on the pillow underneath his head. Kacchan really could have just been a model for his parents’ fashion brand, except then all his rage would have nowhere to go. “I offered to murder him. Halfie turned me down.”

“Kacchan,” he scolds, but he’s trying not to laugh. “That’s not a solution to the problem.”

“Not with that goddamn attitude.”

~*~

So they take Shouto aside.

Izuku has a well thought out script. He’s ready. He rehearsed (shut up Kacchan, this is important). They get Shou when he’s in a good mood, and take him to the kitchen, and Izuku opens his mouth, ready to start with his introduction – a brief history of their relationship, followed by a summary of his main talking points-

“We can teach you how to fuck,” Kacchan says, and Izuku shrieks, because he was getting there! They had a plan! They were going to be gentle! “Take it or leave it, Halfie, but that’s the offer.”

Izuku has never seen Shouto’s eyes so round before, or his expression so openly shocked. He blinks at them, opens his mouth – closes it.

“Kacchan! We said we were going to ease him into the idea-”

“No, you said that, you damn nerd!” Kacchan’s so stressed – Izuku should’ve known this would happen, really. “Princess was sitting there drifting off because you were taking so long to get to the fucking point!”

He rounds on the still-silent Shouto, shoulders all drawn up and defensive, like an angry kitten. “Do you wanna fuck or not?” he demands.

“Kacchan-!” Izuku gasps, reaching for him.

“Uh,” Shouto says, quietly, and then just – keeps blinking at them like they’re a strange mirage he’s trying to get to disappear.

He reassures Shouto it’s okay – he can take his time – to not let Kacchan bully him around or anything-

“Yes,” Shouto says softly.

He looks – hopeful. A little scared, maybe, but determined. The same way he looks whenever he’s trying anything new, and he’s unsure, but willing to try as long as he’s with people he loves, who he trusts.

And he does – trust them, that is, because he says as much, pretty eyes flitting between the two of them, interrupting their argument before it can really get underway (and how is he so good at that anyway?).

“I don’t know how to do this,” he adds tentatively. “I might mess it up.”

Oh, Shouto.

“You won’t,” Izuku reassures him, stepping forward. “You can’t.” That’s true too. They’ll teach him, and it’ll be okay, really. It’s for Shouto, not for them.

“’S the whole point anyway,” Kacchan adds, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. He’s actually done pretty well, considering how much he hates these kinds of talk-no-action conversations. “To teach you and shit. So let us teach you.”

Shouto swallows. Izuku sees it in his throat.

“Okay,” he says.

~*~

He’s thrumming with energy as he climbs the steps to their apartment, three at a time.

Shou finished at the same time as him, maybe a bit earlier, so he should be here, and Kacchan isn’t working. They’re all off at the same time! It rarely happens, and Izuku is excited to see the both of them.

“I’m home,” he calls as he steps into the genkan. Something smells incredible – curry, he thinks – and he sniffs before yelling, “Kacchan, are you cooking?”

There’s a pause, and then Shou’s voice – “He asked if you’re cooking.”

“Tch,” Kacchan grumbles, as Izuku rounds the corner and they come into view and – Kacchan is holding Shouto, really holding him, a tight grip on Shou’s waist with his fingers threaded into the belt loops of Shouto’s pants and Shouto is just letting him, like it’s no big deal. “Nobody else cooks in this fuckin’ house. ‘Course it’s me.”

“Because you won’t let us.” Shouto looks so content where he is, leaning on Kacchan’s side and just letting him hold him upright. Izuku beams at the sight, at both of them so comfortable together. “Ah! You’re cuddling! Kacchan, that’s cute. I told you he’s nice to hug, right?”

He did tell Kacchan that. Shouto is really cuddly now that he’s mostly over his fear of touch – at least with them – and he gives amazing hugs, ones that he either superheats in winter or cools in summer, and he remembers their favourite temperatures and everything and his arms are long, long enough to wrap completely around them.

“Fuck off,” Kacchan says, but it’s not a real threat, Izuku can tell.

“So prickly,” he teases, grinning wider when Kacchan’s temple throbs. He goes over – wraps an arm around both of them, tucks his face in against Shouto’s back and sags. Shouto just smells so good all the time, fancy cologne and laundry detergent and whatever hair stuff he uses to make it that silky.

“You smell good,” he tells Shouto’s shoulder. He wraps an arm over Shouto’s stomach, squeezes affectionately-

Shou goes all stiff and hard like a plank and Kacchan says, “Oi, fuckin’ careful. He hurt his ribs.”

He releases his grip immediately. He didn’t know Shouto got hurt on his patrol. “You’re hurt?” he asks, gnawing his lip. Did Shouto see the healer? Did he need to? “I’m sorry-”

Shou’s really quick to reply. “It’s alright,” he says, giving Izuku a little smile. “It’s not serious.”

But Izuku hates it when Shouto’s hurt. Hates it when anyone is hurt but Shouto has hurt enough for several lifetimes – he wonders if he should check, but before he can act on the impulse, Shouto hums a little and reaches for a towel, abandoned on the counter.

“Oi! Those are the good ones, you fuckin’ menace!” Kacchan really hates it when they confuse the good hand towels with the bad ones, not that it matters, except it does, to Kacchan. “Go clean up in the bathroom like normal people!”

He grabs Shouto’s hand – his warm left hand – feels it close around his own and smiles as he begins to pull Shouto along with him. “Or what?”

Kacchan doesn’t really look all that scary like this, but he tries anyway, waving his spoon at them. “Don’t test me.”

“Me, test you? I would never.”

“You fucking would. Like playing with fire so much, just you wait until tonight, nerd-”

“Promises, promises,” Izuku says, grinning, and pulls Shou into the bathroom and clicks the door shut behind them both.

He turns to Shouto. He’s pink in the face, eyes a little wider than usual, off-guard and so, so cute for it Izuku has to bite down on a happy smile. Shouto being visibly off guard means he feels safe! Safe enough to express it! That’s still a huge win, even now, but-

-but he’s hurt and Izuku is on a mission.

“Can I see?”

Shouto startles, blinks, looks down at where Izuku’s hand is about to tug at his hoodie. He was really off in his own little world.

“Ah,” he says quietly. “Yeah.”

Shouto’s really gorgeous, and the bruise marring his side does nothing to hide that; he’s got a thicker waist than Kacchan, a combination of his mother’s willowy build and Endeavour’s broad, muscular one, and his obliques and abs are in sharp definition, hips sloping into the gentle V leading into his pants. The bruise is wrapped all the way around, almost, and even though Shouto doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it, Izuku still winces.

“Does it hurt?”

“A bit.” He’s grabbing a washcloth and wetting it, pats it to Izuku’s cheek. His hand is really warm, and Izuku sighs, shuffling close to absorb his heat. “The healers did look at it, but it’s not serious.”

Izuku opens his eyes, suddenly aware that he’d closed them. Shouto looks back at him, head slightly tilted as he works at the dirt spot on Izuku’s face.

“You looked cozy with Kacchan,” Izuku whispers. He did – Shou was just leaning into him and Kacchan was letting him, holding him close. He’d worried they wouldn’t find their way to each other because Shou can still be skittish and Kacchan isn’t exactly the best-equipped to deal with skittish people, but-

“I’m sorry if it – I didn’t think,” Shouto is saying, and he’s not sponging at Izuku’s face anymore, he just looks worried, mismatched eyebrows drawn together. “I – thought it was fine, because-”

Oh shit, he thinks Izuku is mad at him or – or mocking him, even worse; he takes Shouto’s wrist and Shouto lets him, which is another huge fat sign of how much he trusts him. “Oh,” he says quickly, just to start the sentence – “No, it’s okay, Shou. Don’t apologise.” There, that’s better. “It was nice seeing you both like that. I mean it.”

To his relief, Shouto nods immediately. Trust, trust, trust. It’s such a precious thing to have, from anyone, but especially from someone who’s been hurt so badly before.

Shouto’s mouth is a little wet. He’s just licked his lips and Izuku is still holding his wrist, feeling his pulse in the pads of his fingers.

“Shou,” he mumbles tentatively, “I wanna kiss you.”

Shouto’s left side superheats until it’s almost scalding, and Izuku dares to press a little closer to the warmth of him, like a cold-blooded creature chasing the sun. Shouto doesn’t say anything; he looks down at Izuku and he’s started to go an adorable shade of pink. He wets his lips again.

“Can I kiss you?” Izuku whispers.

And Shou nods. Twice, even.

Izuku’s gentle about it because he doesn’t want Shouto to spook – he doesn’t think he will but it’s best to be gentle with Shou anyway – and when their lips touch it’s almost chaste, Izuku pulling Shouto’s soft, plump lower lip in between his own, Izuku putting his hands on the counter at Shouto’s hips just to stop himself grabbing Shouto’s hips because that’s what he wants-

Shouto gives a low, quiet moan, and – wow. He’s enjoying it, really actually enjoying it, his mouth moving right back and opening a little, his hand finding its way to Izuku’s shoulder and – Shouto is holding onto him. Holding him and kissing him, oh God.

Patience out the window, Izuku leans down just a little to get his hands under Shouto’s (wonderfully firm, thick, Kacchan has a point) thighs; he lifts and puts Shouto on the counter and slides in between his spread legs, and Shouto is gripping his shoulders tight, a startled sound shocked from his chest.

“Okay?” Izuku whispers, worried he’s pushed too far.

Shouto looks – frazzled. No – not frazzled. This is not the same Shouto who gets irritated about crosswords or ponders over cases in his spare time, looking for the missing link. He’s not frazzled, he’s flustered, cheeks pink and eyes wide and hair looking kind of debauched and his fingers gripped into the muscle of Izuku’s shoulders.

He meets Izuku’s eyes. Blinks.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough but sure.

Beaming, Izuku leans forward to kiss him again – can’t help himself – has to forcibly pull away before he gets carried away. This is about Shouto. Making sure he’s comfortable.

“Still okay?” he asks kindly.

“Yeah,” Shouto whispers, his eyes searching Izuku’s face, and he’s really proud of himself for – reducing Shouto Todoroki, Japan’s prettiest bachelor (voted twice in Vogue!) to a blushing, nervous mess. Oh, he’s so, so beautiful. Izuku will have to thank Kacchan for calling him out later. Now he gets to do this.

He grips Shouto’s waist and marvels at how his hands look there, bracketed near Shouto’s ribs, feeling the ridges of his obliques beneath the skin and the way he breathes, the surge of his quirk on either side as he alternately gets excited and then calms down. When Izuku kisses him again, and then uses his tongue to meet Shouto’s, he realises even Shouto’s mouth is like that. Cold and hot, ice and fire.

The air dampens. Shou is steaming something fierce on his left side, and his thighs are suddenly gripped around Izuku’s hips – if he just presses closer he could-

“Jesus fucking Christ, the bathroom counter?!”

He’s not thanking Kacchan later, not when he’s just been cockblocked, rude – “Kacchan! We were just-”

Shouto shifts towards him as Izuku pulls away, chasing him, still holding onto him. He looks startled. The last five minutes must’ve been pretty tumultuous for him-

“-defiling the fuckin’ – we brush our teeth there-!” Kacchan is yelling.

“I’ll wipe it down-” he starts, and he will, or, well, he intends to anyway-

“-supposed to be cleaning each other up-”

“-we were getting to it-!” He got distracted and can anyone blame him when Shouto just exists looking like that and said Izuku could kiss him?

“-not fuckin’ making it worse, horny ass!”

He squeezes Shouto’s waist reassuringly. “I wanted to kiss him,” he says, a little pathetic even to his own ears. “He’s so pretty, I just wanted to kiss him and he said I could-”

“I wanted to kiss too,” Shouto says suddenly, his voice rough and thick. He sounds as flustered as he looks – which is to say, very.

Kacchan falls silent but glares, mostly at Izuku. They’re all quiet. Shouto’s breathing through his mouth still and the steam is curling the ends of Izuku’s hair, he just knows it.

Then Shouto must decide now is the time to incite violence, because he says, “You look very cute,” and smiles as he does, something private and guileless just for them.

Izuku laughs – knows Kacchan will threaten bodily harm for that – uses Shouto’s shoulder to try and muffle the noise, feels Shou cup the back of his neck, so gentle. He’s seen Shouto bring down entire buildings with these hands, watched him exercise enormous levels of power, turn entire landscapes into flash-frozen wastelands.

And his hands are still so, so gentle.

“Hah?!” Kacchan demands. “Dinner’s fucking ready!”

The door slams. Izuku grins into Shouto’s shoulder and then leans back to kiss him and when he does, Shouto is also smiling.

“That was great,” he says, meaning every word of it. Nobody gets under Kacchan’s skin quite like Shou does, except Izuku himself. “He might even forget about making us disinfect the counter after that.”

“Not fuckin’ likely!”

Chapter Text

Halfie’s got this fucking – thing about Animal Crossing.

He likes manga and he likes baking and he likes crosswords and Sudoku and annoying the fuck out of Katsuki and making shitty Deku moon over him – but he loves Animal Crossing.

Katsuki used to roast him about it a lot fucking more. Doesn’t get it. The whole point of the game is that there’s no point to the game. There’s no winning. Every goddamn time Halfie pays off part of his house, he goes into debt upgrading it again. There’s no goddamn – conclusion.

Katsuki needs closure, damn it.

“You look nice like this.”

Halfie’s comment makes him lose the goddamn fish he’s been gunning for – the controller vibrates as it slips away, and he growls. “Hah? Fuck you talking about?”

“Relaxed,” Shou says. He’s sitting with his legs all sandwiched up underneath him, smile fond as hell as he watches Katsuki. “You look nice.”

God, he’s too fucking pretty not to touch. They swore they’d go slow with him – now that Deku is finally on board about at least teaching him how to fuck – but Katsuki can’t stop himself as he says, “Come here,” meaning his goddamn lap.

Halfie tilts his head curiously. Goddamn – no thoughts, head empty. Fuck.

So Katsuki goes for it. He gets closer, and he puts his hands on Shou’s waist, and Shouto – lets him. Clambers into his lap a little clumsily, unused to the movement, and sits his ass right down on Katsuki’s goddamn thighs, and Katsuki is only human so he’s fucking hard. Of course.

Holy shit, Halfie is on top of him. Halfie is straddling his lap. Halfie’s knees are either side of his hips and he’s all flushed and eager and staring down at Katsuki, tentatively resting his arms on Katsuki’s shoulders, eyes wide, half-hard against him.

Fucking jackpot.

No one’s ever seen him like this because no one’s ever done this with him. Nobody’s had princess sitting pretty on their thighs like this. Nobody’s had those strong, sinewy forearms braced against their shoulders, or a handful of shortcake’s ass gripped in their fingers.

Katsuki is the first motherfucker to experience all of said shit. Holy fuck.

Shou looks goddamned stunned. His pretty eyes are all wide, and he shifts his weight in Katsuki’s lap a little until he relaxes, a bit, backs of his thighs coming down on Katsuki’s. He blinks. Katsuki – can’t fucking tell if this is fine or not, but fuck, Icyhot’s snow-coned his ass for way less.

“This okay?” he asks.

Shouto blinks again. Nods.

Fuck yeah.

“If it’s not okay later, tell me,” Katsuki says. “Whole point of this is to make you feel safe or whatever. So if you don’t, I wanna know about it.”

Thing is, he’s not sure. Shou will tell him he did the laundry wrong (and offer no goddamn insight into how to do it right, fuck you very much) but Katsuki genuinely doesn’t fucking know if he’ll say anything about this. He didn’t with fuckface, but that was different.

He’s safe here, with them. Safe to say yes or no. He’s gotta know that. Right?

Shouto initiates the kiss, this time, and Katsuki arches up to meet him – Shou’s fucking shockingly heavy for someone who isn’t nearly as built as him or the nerd – and he grabs Halfie’s ass and feels him rock forward and feels how goddamn hard he is.

He still doesn’t know if Shou’s got ice dick. Shit.

Shou moves back on him and – Katsuki can feel the second shortcake realises he’s hard, because his movements falter, just a little. He doesn’t seem to know what to do for a moment, frozen with indecision, movement half-aborted.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Shit. Sorry, shortcake, can’t exactly help it.” Fuck, he really can’t. He yells at Deku for popping inappropriate goddamn boners all the time and he can’t get this one under control at all. “S’okay if you wanna stop.”

He might die and his dick might fall off, but he doesn’t care so long as Halfie is okay.

Shouto – the little fuck – grinds back more on him, ass dragging over his engorged dick, and Katsuki gasps, thighs jerking, not enough to dislodge Halfie but enough to move him. Fucking tease.

“Princess,” he groans, a warning.

“I don’t want to stop,” Icyhot says.

Thank everything holy – he tucks his face into Shouto’s collarbone, smells his fancy rich-boy cologne there, the scent of his skin. He smells different on the left and right, and no other fucker would know that – he’s warmer and darker on the left, and the right side is nothing short of a crisp winter morning.

“This feel good for you?” he murmurs, and Shou pulls in a shaky breath. Fuck yes. “You like feeling it when I’m hard?”

“Yes,” comes the exhaled response, and Katsuki grins – feels his hair ruffle when Halfie breathes out a little cloud of steam. “Can – can we-?”

Oh hell yeah. “You wanna get off, huh?” he asks, gripping a little tighter at Halfie’s ass and leaning back just in time to see his pretty eyelashes fluttering shut. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Can we?”

He’d give Shouto anything. Either of them would. He’d bend over backwards, get on his knees, fuck, whatever Shouto wanted – he’d do it, and he says so, getting his thigh between Shouto’s legs so he can grind down and he fucking does; he’s fully hard, now, and Katsuki can feel the mouthwatering length of him against his leg, responds with his own groan, shifting his pelvis up when Shouto moves.

Shouto moans. The noise cuts the air like a fucking knife. Katsuki’s heart pounds in double-time, and he moves his hand out of Shou’s pants, to-

“Won’t take anything off if you don’t want,” he pants, and fuck, princess doesn’t actually have ice dick; it’s warm and heavy in his hand, even through clothes. “Just wanna feel you in my hand, sweetheart, please?”

He’s not sure he’s ever wanted anything more than this, at least not right now. He doesn’t know whether to be mad at the idiot extras who didn’t find Shou worth it, like this, or grateful that he’s the first to be able to do so.

“Yes,” Shouto breathes. “’Suki-”

That fucking nickname-

He grips harder, pulls up, uses his other hand to pull Shouto in closer, so close they’re breathing the same air, that Katsuki can feel the heave of his chest, the flex of his abs.

“Oh,” Shouto moans, holy shit – he’s rocking, now, purposefully, just using Katsuki to get off. “Hah-”

He’s got his lips on Shou’s throat when he comes, his tongue trailing the silky soft skin right under his jaw. He can tell, because Shouto holds still for a moment, breath caught and then punched out of him, and when Katsuki leans back and looks his mouth is open, cheeks flushed, eyes closed.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he blurts, because it’s a goddamn work of art, watching Shouto in the throes of ecstasy. “Fuck-”

Shouto’s done, but Katsuki isn’t. It’s torture, when Shouto eventually lets out a breath and sits down and lets Katsuki’s dick rub against the curve of his ass.

Shouto looks down at him for a moment, fucking, all surprised like he’s not sure how he ended up here. Then-

“Can I touch?”

Teaching Shouto how to fuck will remain the best fucking idea Katsuki’s ever had. “You can do whatever you want, princess,” he encourages, and Shouto gives a nod like he fucking approves of that, as if it was ever a question – he’d give Halfie anything – so would Deku-

He is not fucking expecting Shouto’s whole hand (the right, that icy bastard) to wrap around his cock and stroke confidently, not when he looked all goddamn flustered and – okay, virginal – like, five fucking seconds ago. His eyes are rolling back into his head and he bucks up, but Shou’s no lightweight so he doesn’t even move with it.

God. Halfie’s not just pretty, he’s jacked. Easy to forget, ‘cause he’s not as dense as Izu or broad like Katsuki, but God. Katsuki wants those thighs around his fucking neck, preferably yesterday, thanks.

Shouto squeezes, just right, and Katsuki’s off fucking babbling, begging, he hates begging but he’ll do it for Halfie because he seems fascinated. Makes sense. Hasn’t seen anyone else about to come, unless it’s porn, but-

The cool touch of Shou’s thumb on the head of his cock undoes him; he gets out a warning, but not much of one, and shortcake doesn’t stop stroking him until he’s oversensitive and squirming.

He reels Halfie in for a kiss, after. ‘Cause it was new and he did good and he probably needs some reassurance, and Katsuki knows it was the right thing because Shouto kisses his jaw, fleeting, almost shy considering he’s covered in Katsuki’s come.

“You have fun?” Katsuki breathes, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

God, Shouto nods so firm and so fast it’s cute. “Yes,” he says, all earnest and wide-eyed. “Sometimes I hear you and Izuku through the walls, and I wondered if you’d sound the same with me.”

Holy goddamn – what’s he meant to do with that knowledge? Halfie listens? And-

“You listen?” he asks, and rubs Shouto’s skin, his spine, and feels him shiver.

“I don’t mean to,” Shou says with a little wince. “Sorry.”

Sometimes he says sorry and Katsuki can tell he absolutely fucking isn’t, but sometimes he says it and he means it, and it’s one of those occasions. “Don’t be,” he breathes. “S’fuckin hot. What do you do when you listen?”

He can’t even get hard again this fast, but God, does his dick try when Shou admits to jerking off to it. And again, when the nerd comes back – all red-faced and shy like he doesn’t say some of the filthiest shit you’ve ever heard when they’re alone – and ends up sandwiched between them.

Icyhot might be a rat bastard half the time, but shit, he’s a quick goddamn study. It takes him no time at fucking all to work out what makes Deku tick, which leaves Katsuki the job of getting the nerd’s cock into his mouth.

He looks up, though. How can he not? His goddamn nerd, splayed out, held open, twitching in Shouto’s arms with no way to get away from them, mumbling breathlessly about Icyhot’s hands.

And holy shit – he’s watching Shou’s long arms wrap around Deku’s torso, watching his boyfriend squirm and writhe and beg in them, and he’s never seen anything so fucking hot in his life – Shouto playing curiously with Izuku’s nipples while Izuku’s cock throbs in his mouth. Poor nerd is stuck between them with nowhere to go and no way out anyway.

Fucking jackpot. He has the best ideas, fucking thank you.

It’s only later that they talk about it. Him and Izu, that is. Nerd gets cagey right after Shou’s headed to bed for the night, and Katsuki gives him all of five minutes (very fucking patient if you ask him) before he caves and says, “Alright, the fuck’s going through your head?”

Izuku bites his lip. “You know we’re getting something out of this too, right?” he asks tentatively. “This thing we have going with Shou?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki grumbles, reluctantly, because it’s true but he doesn’t like how it was phrased. Like they fucking – manipulated Shouto into it, or something, and they didn’t. “But we’re making it safer for him. He agreed-”

“And we get to have sex with someone we know we have feelings for,” Izuku adds in, this time fucking gently like that’ll help anything.

“What the fu-? Are you saying we’re fuckin’ – taking advantage of him or-?”

“No!” Izuku says, his eyes widening, and he grabs both of Katsuki’s hands to stop him from leaving, damn it. His shitty heart is racing, because he hadn’t fucking thought of it that way, because that’s not what he fucking meant – take advantage of shortcake? The whole point to this was that he wouldn’t get taken advantage of-

“I’m saying,” Izuku says, “that we like him and we get to have sex with him. He consented, but I… something about this…”

“We didn’t offer to show him how to fuck for ourselves,” Katsuki says, irrationally upset. “We offered because we wanted him safe. It wasn’t – we weren’t fucking tricking him-”

“No, I know that. But you can’t deny we’re getting something out of it.”

“Sex, maybe, but not what we actually fucking – want,” Katsuki protests. “Don’t want him for sex. He could tell us both to stop touching him and I’d still wanna fucking – take him to cat cafes and watch his stupid nature documentaries with him. I’d still wanna date him.”

Izuku nods silently.

“It’s fucking painful,” Katsuki adds on miserably. “Half-having him. And him not fucking knowing.”

Izuku bites his lip and nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I think we um. Maybe didn’t think this through properly. I – we knew it would hurt but… it is painful.”

“Izu, if we quit on him now, he’s gonna think he fucked up,” Katsuki says quietly. “You know that – he’s gonna think, well shit, if my two best friends quit on me, everyone will.”

Izuku presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, sniffling. Aw, fuck. Katsuki hates it when the nerd cries.

“I know,” Izuku chokes. “Oh my God. Kacchan. We didn’t think this through at all. Either we quit now and he feels like he’s failed – and you’re right, he would, no matter what we said – or we keep going and we’re still – benefitting from a situation that – God, he said yes, he – we always ask but it feels like we lied.”

“So we tell him the truth,” Katsuki says softly. “Izuku. We tell him we need to stop because we have feelings for him.”

Izuku nibbles his lip.

“You can’t be serious,” Katsuki says incredulously.

“I’m not-”

“Ready? Izuku-” He searches for the right words, but talking like this has never really been his strong suit. He doesn’t wanna fuck up and make things worse, but also – what the fuck? “We’re already having sex with him. Fucking kissing him. You’re still-?”

“I’m not ready to – I like our relationship like this, Kacchan, and it – it’ll change things, I know I don’t make sense but-”

Katsuki runs a hand through his hair. “So you’re fine with fucking him but not fine with asking him to join the relationship?” he asks. “You like him but not – fuck, I dunno, not enough to want him to be part of this fucking properly?”

“We don’t know how he feels! In fact, we’re pretty sure he doesn’t like us that way! So-”

“We can’t possibly fucking know that because we haven’t asked him,” Katsuki snaps. “You’re right about one thing – we never asked him how he fuckin’ felt. We asked him if he wanted to have sex because that’s what you’re comfy with or whatever but we never asked him how he fucking feels about us.”

“Please give me time,” Izuku whispers, and turns those bright green eyes on him, all welled with tears, a weapon he doesn’t even know he has. “Just give me time. We will – I promise we will. But not yet.”

Katsuki sighs. Leans down. Presses his forehead against Izuku’s.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “Time. We can fucking do that.”

~*~

Problem with fucking time is that it’s a wily bitch and it runs out.

It’s a few days later that it happens. Some piece of shit villain decides to chow down on a metric fuckton of high-grade crystal meth and goes for a goddamn walk through the city, except said piece of shit villain is the side of a small building, so obviously, there are problems with him taking a goddamn jaunt to the shops.

It’s a fucking shitshow. Icyhot’s got one of the best quirks for immobilization – being able to freeze things at will is nifty as shit – but the damage caused by the villain has him on the ground, isolated, using enormous sheets of ice to support damaged and crumbling buildings.

Without him, the people inside die. So that leaves Katsuki and the nerd to try and corral this big bitch somewhere it won’t do as much damage.

Easier said than fucking done.

He glances down to where Halfie’s situated – on the ground like a goddamn sitting duck, and even from here Katsuki can see his backplate spewing clouds of frost and steam. Fuck, Shou’s working overtime to support the buildings – and he’s tough as shit but he’s not gonna be able to keep it up forever, not without risking some serious quirk exhaustion.

The city – surrounded by his ice – glitters. It’s terrifyingly beautiful, what Shouto can do to a landscape with a split second of thought.

“We gotta wrap this up,” Katsuki yells over the wind, watching as Deku bounces off the side of one of the ice supports and wraps himself in full cowl. “Shou can’t hold that much longer-”

He sees it, slow-motion. The widening of Izuku’s eyes, the way he turns in midair towards where Shouto’s body is crouched on the pavement.

“Izu-?”

“Shouto, you have to move!”

Katsuki sees it then. What Deku saw. A tiny black blip, warp-fast, too close to Halfie for comfort and too far away for them to intercept, no matter how fast they move.

“If I stop now,” Shouto’s voice comes, deadly calm, “the hospital is going to collapse.”

And he’s fucking right is the worst part, it will, and ponytail and round cheeks are still inside handling evacuations. Shouto is never gonna leave while people need help, and Katsuki can’t fucking be mad at him for that because none of them would.

“Take over!” he yells, and turns, using a cluster of explosions to propel himself forward even as he knows it’s useless. He’s fast, but he’s not that fast; he’s not gonna intercept in time-

Shouto’s body moves. He sees it: a spray of red, the fray that appears in the shoulder of the jumpsuit, his right shoulder, the side responsible for producing ice-

“He fuckin’ shot Icyhot!” Why he’s screaming he’ll never be able to explain, because everyone else is fucking yelling too because they all saw it – “where is that motherfucker, I’m gonna-”

“-sending medics your way, be ready to-”

“Don’t.”

The word is gasped, and Katsuki’s whole being screams with rage and terror; he recognises that voice. Shouto’s exhausted, probably barely clinging to consciousness, and one word was all he was able to get out.

“They’re still evacuating the hospital,” Shou pants. “I need to stay.”

Kenzo says something about medics – says they can’t send any because they don’t where the shooter-

“Leave the shooter to me,” Katsuki snarls, burning white-hot and ready to Howitzer Impact the next shitty extra villain he sees into nothing more than radioactive paste. “I’m gonna fucking waste him-”

“Kacchan!” Izuku says, and his voice calls Katsuki back, brings him down, just for a second, enough to pay attention. “You with me?”

He grits his teeth. He’s so close to Shou now he can see when Halfie looks up at him, eyes steeled.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, and re-routes to Deku. “I’m with you.”

“I’ve got a plan!”

~*~

One captured meth-raging villain and sorry scrap of coward shooter later, it’s done.

He’s already making his way back to the ground when they get the call that the hospital is stabilized enough for Shouto to stop using his quirk. Katsuki’s arms strain, lactic acid building up rapidly with nowhere to go, but he pushes those last few feet to reach the pavement.

Shouto’s crumpled. On his knees, curled over, right arm wrapped over his belly and left hand pressed over the wound. Katsuki can hear him breathing from here.

“Holy fuck, he’s still conscious,” he says, and almost trips, he lands so hard and fast. “Icyhot!”

He’s not gentle – he’ll regret it later – as he finally, finally gets hands on Shou’s ice-cold body. Yanks him up off the shitty pavement, and – when Shouto sways, knees buckling under his own weight – curses and sweeps him into a princess carry.

Shouto’s hero outfit is fucking saturated with blood. It’s frozen in layers to his right arm, and Katsuki realises that he used the ice to stop the wound from bleeding as much. It’s probably the only reason he’s not fucking dead from exsanguination-

Warm, wet blood seeps from the wound, runs in rivulets over the sheets of bloody ice already on Shouto’s arm. Shouto groans.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Katsuki curses, watching as Shouto’s eyes roll dangerously before fluttering open. “Shit, his quirk’s crapped out-”

“What-?” Deku pants into his earpiece.

“His fucking quirk, shit-”

“Ground Zero! Over here!”

He runs there, awkward as fuck, Shouto’s gangly body near-limp in his arms. “C’mon, princess,” he cajoles, watching Shouto’s white-sheet face, the sliver of gemlike eyes watching him. His eyelashes are frozen; his lips are bloodless. “Stay with me, c’mon-”

“’Suki,” Shouto whispers.

“One and only, baby – c’mon – medics are gonna get you fixed up-”

“Put him here-”

He lowers Shouto to the gurney, cursing when his limbs spill loosely over the edges; he gets the right arm sorted before anything else, uses his body to hem Shouto’s left side in and stop him from falling. Even that’s cold.

Quirk exhaustion, Katsuki thinks, heart pounding. His whole damn body is cold, not just his right side.

“Run an IV,” a medic orders. “We need to get his fluid up stat, and I want him on medication to treat the quirk exhaustion-”

“Get him to hospital,” Katsuki orders, taking a moment to lean on the gurney. He doesn’t know if he’s dizzy from the effort or the fear, but he allows himself to push Shou’s hair back from his forehead and look down at him. “Oi, Halfie, we’ll come get you, yeah? When we’ve cleaned this shit up.”

Shou’s eyelids are drooping, but his left hand twitches on the gurney, his pinky hooking into Katsuki’s index finger and squeezing weakly, clumsily. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment – and then his head lolls to the side.

Unconscious.

“The O.R is prepped,” the medic says briskly. “Ground Zero, we’ll keep you updated.”

“Take care of him,” he demands shakily.

The ambulance is wheeling away, lights and sirens blaring, right as Izuku crashes into the ground next to him, pavement splintering under the force.

“Kacchan!” he calls, jogging over. Got a cut on his face, and it’s bleeding, but he doesn’t seem like he even fucking knows, and his eyes go wide when he takes in Katsuki’s body.

“Is that his?” Izuku asks, his voice warbling.

Katsuki makes the mistake of wiping a hand over his mouth, smearing Shouto’s blood all over his face. He nods. Halfie’s blood clings to the skin of his hands and arms in flakes, and he flashes back to Shouto’s eyes rolling shut, the way he’d gone limp on the stretcher. Will he even remember that?

Hopefully fucking not. Bad enough Katsuki is gonna remember. Another thing to add to the shitshow of his worst hits reel tonight when he tries to sleep.

“Oh, God,” Izuku whispers. “Was he-?”

“He was conscious right up ‘til they left,” Katsuki says, and his own voice shakes. “Deku, he was bleeding so fuckin’ bad.”

He can see it. The guilt, that is, in Deku’s face. Knows exactly what it looks like because he feels exactly the same way. Shouto risked it all saving those civilians, supporting the buildings, and they didn’t cover his ass properly, and now he’s hurt. Real bad.

They failed him.

“Deku, we need you back at the site,” their earpieces say in tandem.

“Received,” Izuku says, and Katsuki watches his Symbol-Of-Peace face slam back into place over the veneer of panic. “Kacchan, can you-?”

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Katsuki says roughly. He’s still covered in fucking blood, Shouto’s blood, but he needs to get to the hospital. “Make sure they’re taking care of him.”

“Okay,” Izuku says, and his lip wobbles, and Katsuki wants so bad to reach out and fucking hug him his hands twitch with it, but they’re in public and they’re not like that in public, no matter how much he hates it – so he doesn’t; besides, if he hugged Izu now the nerd would fly apart at the seams. “Keep me updated?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says. “Will do.”

~*~

“How’s Shouto-kun?”

Katsuki grits his jaw as a sharp pang races up his forearm. Damn quirk exhaustion. Shit ain’t fun at all. Like taking that big bitch down wasn’t enough, now he’s still on demolitions and clean-up duty. He’s suing.

“He’s fine,” he says shortly, and Round-Face blinks at him innocently, her mouth twisted into this stupid smile. “He’s with Deku. Fucker was sleeping when I left.”

Halfie’s been sleeping pretty much since he got home from the hospital. It’s not weird, not really, ‘cause the injury alone would’ve been tiring without Halfie then going through a healing session on an empty stomach and self-discharging to come to the agency. Asshole, wandering in looking all pale and confused in borrowed clothes and Katsuki’s jacket. Asking if they were fine. Jesus.

“It was just his shoulder, right?” Round-Face worries. “It looked really bad. There was a lot of blood.”

There sure fucking was. It’d taken way too long for the shower water to run clear when Katsuki stepped under it – he’d trimmed his nails and spent almost half an hour digging dried blood out from under them. He’s never seen shortcake bleed like that before. Never even seen Izuku bleed like that before.

“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “He’s gonna be fine or whatever. He’ll go back for another healing session and be good as new.”

“That’s great!”

His phone vibrates. He takes a moment to survey their work – he and Ochaco make a kickass demolitions team, the best there is, fuck you very much – and only digs around for his phone when he’s satisfied with their progress.

Izuku, 8:38AM Shou’s awake and eating 😊 he’s really hungry!

Katsuki rubs his face, letting out a quiet breath. Halfie’s fucking notorious for going off his food when he’s sick or hurt – it’s like pulling teeth to get him to eat anything when he’s not feeling good – and knowing that he’s willingly getting some nutrients in is a relief. More of a relief than Katsuki’s comfortable with really but the ship has fucking sailed on that front.

“Is everything okay?” Round-Face asks, peering at his phone.

“Mind your own business,” Katsuki complains, but doesn’t really move away from her – her and Shou are friends or whatever. He puts his phone back in his pocket. “It’s just ‘Zuku. Said Halfie’s up.”

“Oh, that’s great! Tell him I said hi!”

“Tell him yourself, what do I look like, a fucking carrier pigeon?!”

~*~

When he gets home from his godawful demolitions shift, Halfie is asleep again – but this time, on the couch, with Izuku curled around him.

“Bumming hugs off the infirm,” Katsuki says by way of greeting. “You should be fuckin’ arrested.”

Izuku pouts. “We were watching a documentary. And his quirk is still a little wonky, so he can’t thermoregulate right now.”

Katsuki scoffs, tosses his things into their catchall, and sits down on the coffee table. Shortcake doesn’t stir – he’s buried under a blanket and wearing a t-shirt that’s definitely not his, and it’s tugging down a little on his injured side.

“You changed the bandages?” he asks Izuku, reaching out to move the fabric a little more. There’s a fresh gauze pad, expertly taped down. Halfie doesn’t even stir; his warm breath brushes over Katsuki’s knuckles.

“Yeah. He had a shower and everything. He seemed like he was feeling better. He took some pain tablets before he went to sleep, that definitely helped.”

Katsuki frowns, letting his fingertips ghost Halfie’s skin. He doesn’t like this half-healed bullshit, doesn’t like that they’re gonna have to take him back to the hospital for another session, but it can’t be helped. Healers can only do what they can, and Halfie’s injuries were bad enough to impact his stamina. No point in healing him completely if he ends up in shock because of it.

“His skin feels weird,” he mutters, pressing his fingers a bit more firmly into Shouto’s shoulder before moving them up to his forehead. Halfie’s the same temperature all over, which is fucking weird. Even when he’s thermoregulating and at his own freakish baseline, he’s a few degrees cooler than normal on his right and a few hotter on the left. “He’s not hot.”

“Nah, he doesn’t have a fever. He’s just tired. He ate lots, though, that’s good.”

Shouto stirs. Mumbles. Opens his eyes and looks right at Katsuki, and fuck, he looks sleepy as all shit but content, and he gives a tiny little smile.

“Hello, Katsuki.”

God.

“Hey, shortcake,” he says, and Shouto blinks again, tears beading his eyes when he yawns. “You feelin’ better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.” Shou’s eyes close for a moment; Deku squeezes him fondly, all smiles. They’re both so fucking beautiful it makes Katsuki ache. “Thank you for the food. It was delicious.”

Halfie really just gets around like this, huh? Nearly dying, sincerely thanking people. Indecent goddamn behaviour is what it is.

“Kiss ass,” he mumbles lamely.

“He means you’re welcome,” the nerd giggles.

Katsuki settles into the couch. He turns on Halfie’s stupid game, and he trades his stupid turnips, and he absolutely does not go red when Halfie looks at him like he hung the moon and stars, thanks very much.

It’s just because he’s safe, that’s all. And Katsuki’s – grateful, or whatever.

Looks like they’ve got more time after all.

Chapter Text

“This isn’t fair,” Izuku whines.

Kacchan glares at him, hands on hips, covered in pink rubber gloves that come almost all the way up to his elbows. He’s wearing one of Kirishima-kun’s headbands to keep his hair off his face, and he’s got a little squirt bottle of disinfectant hanging from his hand.

“What isn’t fair?” Shoucchan asks softly.

“Me being sick!” Izuku sniffles, burrowing in closer to Shouto’s warm left side. Kacchan is mad at him – maybe mad at the germs actually – but Shouto’s being so sweet, letting him crowd and press to whichever side of his body is more soothing. “I take care of myself-”

“Nn,” Shouto says, doubtfully, right as Kacchan snaps, “The fuck you do, you twitchy little dweeb! Never eat vegetables unless I make you, ignoring your goddamn sleep hygiene, no rest days from the gym-”

“Izuku does his best,” Shou intervenes quickly, a cool hand on the back of Izuku’s neck. Izuku pouts up at Kacchan, eyes wet, nose running a little.

“Kacchan…”

“Don’t fuckin’ Kacchan me looking like that,” Kacchan mutters furiously, but he gets a kiss on the forehead for his troubles, so totally worth it! And he’s pretty sure Shouto is smiling all secretively, too – even more worth it! – “Start takin’ care of yourself, nerd.”

“Or what?” he tries, cheeky, just a little.

“Are you seriously startin’ shit now?!” Kacchan demands, face flushing with anger. “Right now?! You can’t even fight some shitty germs and you’re startin’ shit with-?!”

“I think he’s teasing you,” Shou-kun points out, amused.

Shouto is so good to him – to both of them – but to him especially now. Kacchan has to work, but Shouto stays with him, spending one of his precious days off hovering in the living room. He knows Izuku doesn’t like to be alone when he’s sick – and it’s not needy! Shut up Kacchan! – and so he stays close, even with Izuku coughing miserably and mostly being passed out.

“’Zuku,” Kacchan’s voice murmurs.

He opens his eyes blearily. His head hurts. His skin feels too small. Sweat prickles across his whole body, even though he can feel one of Shouto’s hands on him, the cool right one. Kacchan is crouched down in front of him, and his face is smeared with eyeliner, kind of, and he looks worried.

“Mm?” he mumbles.

“C’mon, nerd,” Kacchan says, no heat. He’s so pretty when he’s not frowning – Izuku loves him so, so much. “Bed.”

He walks, but his legs shake, and Kacchan stays close. He smells like the generic soap from the agency showers, but he doesn’t go to get clean in their own, he just – herds Izuku down the hallway, warm hands grasping at his hips, directing him, keeping him from bumping into walls.

“Shouto?” Izuku asks, when they’re in their bedroom with the door shut.

“He’s in the shower, baby,” Kacchan says quietly.

Oh. Yeah. He can hear it running. “Shower?”

“Looked after your disease-riddled ass all day, and the last thing we need is Icyhot getting a fuckin’ fever.”

He doesn’t want Shouto to get sick. Like, he hardly ever does – but fevers are even more wild for Shouto than they are for him or Kacchan; it makes his quirk go haywire, and sometimes if it gets bad enough he needs quirk suppressants until it passes.

“He’s okay?” he asks blearily. His head still hurts.

Kacchan presses pills onto his tongue. “He’s fine,” he says, soft.

Ah. Kacchan can be nice. Sometimes.

Izuku sleeps. He sleeps and dreams, and in the dream, Shouto is in a burning forest, one alight with blue flames. Shouto is in the burning forest with his brother, walking away, and Izuku is chasing him, but he can’t catch up. The flames choke him, and it’s too hot, and Shouto looks blankly back at him when Izuku screams his name. And Izuku knows – knows with every fibre of his being – that if Shouto follows Touya into the wall of flames, they will never, ever see him again, and-

“Izu, baby, hey-!”

Shouto, Shouto. He has to find-

“Izuku?”

Shouto’s right there. Blurry, worried-looking, hair all kicked up, cat pyjama shirt (that Izuku got him two Christmases ago) askew on his shoulders, showing his collarbones, his neck.

“Shouto,” he sobs, and steps forward to hug Shouto tight, his hot, hot face finding Shouto’s cool right side.

“Izuku,” Shouto says again, softly, his hand petting across Izuku’s shoulders tentatively. His hand is cool, and it feels so, so good on his overheated skin. “What-”

“Please don’t go anywhere I can’t follow you.”

He’s sobbing. He can’t stop. The fire was so real, and Shouto was so very nearly gone, and-

Kacchan is murmuring to him about a shower, and he – knows he needs one, knows he’s bordering on deliriousness, so he tries to go, but his legs are weak, and he doesn’t want to leave Shouto anyway, not that it matters because Shouto leans down to pick him up and Izuku is safe there, in his arms.

“I won’t go where you can’t follow me, Izuku,” Shouto says, his breath cool against Izuku’s face, his skin just the right temperature. Izuku blinks wetly up at him, makes out his jaw, his eyes, the softness of his mouth. “I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t, anyway.”

His mouth wobbles. “You promise?”

He’s being needy. He knows he’s being needy. He shouldn’t-

“Of course,” Shoucchan says, voice still soft and quiet and comforting, reassuring, and he holds Izuku nice and tight until they reach the bathroom, and Kacchan helps him shower off.

“I saw him with Touya,” Izuku whispers under the spray, with Kacchan’s big soft hands scrubbing him clean of the fever sweat. He feels – a bit more clear-headed, now, enough to know that it was just a dream. “There was so much fire, and…”

Kacchan’s lips find his forehead, press gently. “Izu,” he says softly, “even if that matchstick motherfucker was still alive, Shou would never go with him. He wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us.”

“Touya’s his brother,” Izuku whispers uncertainly. It doesn’t matter, because Touya is dead, but – “his family.”

“So are we, nerd,” Kacchan says, and begins to pull at him gently. “C’mon, time to get out, sweetheart.”

Shouto is in their bedroom, with clothes, and the hoodie is one of Shouto’s own. Izuku feels kinda pathetic, getting dressed by his best friend, but he pulls the sleeves over his hands and sniffles until Shouto uses his quirk to dry his hair off for him.

He’s so glad Shouto is here. And he feels really, really bad for waking him up.

“I coulda done it,” he says, a token protest.

“I know,” Shouto says, idly, “I could’ve looked after myself when I was shot, too, but you wouldn’t have let me.”

Izuku smiles. Shouto is right. He wouldn’t have. And it – makes him feel better. It’s give and take. Not just take, not just give. He helps them and they help him and – really, he’s come kind of a long way from someone who didn’t used to ask for help, and wasn’t able to accept it when it was offered.

He knows it feels nicer for him when he’s allowed to help. When he’s asked for it. So he figures – it might be the same for them. Especially for Shouto.

“Take these, nerd,” he hears – Kacchan – and opens his mouth, accepts the tablets and the water, and feels himself being tipped gently to lie on his side, on the mattress.

He wants to thank them, but he’s so tired.

He can wait until morning.

~*~

“Guys, they’re throwing a gala!”

Shoucchan’s head pops up over the edge of the couch and – oh. He’s all sleep-rumpled with his eyes creased and hair askew, and he looks really soft, and really, really cuddly, and he must have been sleeping and – oh. Oh no. Izuku’s yearning.

“Hah?” Kacchan demands from the kitchen. He’s chopping vegetables roughly thirty percent faster than usual – frowning – Kacchan hates galas. “The fuck for this time?”

“Us,” Izuku says excitedly, waving his phone to show the text on the screen. “For our takedown.”

“Nn,” Shouto mumbles, rubbing his face blearily against the All Might blanket over the back of the couch.

“Fuuuck,” Kacchan mutters.

Izuku pouts. They don’t like galas. Shouto because he got dragged to them a lot as a kid, and because he doesn’t like being the centre of attention, and Kacchan because he says it’s “bullshit” and that he’s “paid to catch shitty villains, not parade around like a dress-up doll.”

“It’ll be fun,” Izuku tries. “We can invite whoever we want – we could invite the whole class!”

Shouto yawns. It’s adorable. Izuku unfolds himself from the barstool he’s curled up in and hurries over, beaming wide when Shouto tiredly lifts the corner of his blanket and lets Izuku underneath it with him.

Okay, so they’ve sort of had sex, and Shouto has seen him come. It doesn’t have to be weird! They always did this before anyway – snuggling, that is. Shouto is actually very snuggly when he trusts people enough! It takes time, but it’s so rewarding – the way he just drops his head to Izuku’s shoulder, now, and yawns, curling his bigger frame around Izuku’s like a cat.

Kacchan’s hand clenches around a carrot so hard it snaps, and Izuku sticks his tongue out. This is his reward for being emotionally unconstipated – Shouto hugs on demand. Kacchan can either join the club or – or suffer!

“Our whole class,” Shouto says, after a moment. “That might be nice. To see everyone again.”

Izuku smiles; Shouto loves their classmates so much. Really, he likes most people, even if he’s still a little quiet and a little more socially dense than the average person. He can still be kinda skittish – Izuku still feels bad about asking how he felt sleeping together with them – but mostly, if he feels safe? He’s like this. He loves physical affection, and Izuku will never, ever withdraw it or deny it.

(Izuku liked sleeping with them. With both of them. He was really sick and he was miserable, but he knew Shouto and Kacchan were there, and he was hemmed in and it felt safe.)

Kacchan sighs, glaring down at his vegetables. “So we’re gonna go?” he mutters.

Shouto yawns. “The food is free,” he says, and Izuku bites down on a laugh – typical Shouto. “And it’s a gala thrown for us. I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“Fine. I’m not fuckin’ happy ‘bout it, though!”

~*~

Kacchan and Shouto clean up so, so beautifully.

Izuku is in awe of them, really. In awe of Kacchan in his slim-fit trousers and his hair contrasting with a black shirt that really, really is working unpaid overtime to cling to his chest, and a blood-red vest that matches his eyes, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and-

Kacchan grabs his chin with a warm hand. “Stop fuckin’ drooling,” he says, his eyes flitting over Izuku’s mouth – he knows what that does to him! – before he smirks. “Gotta at least get through the entrees.”

Izuku leans up to kiss him, knowing it’ll either diffuse his irritation or make it way worse – and he’s in for a win as Kacchan melts closer and grabs his waist, not gentle at all, possessive, and drags him in closer.

“Are you ready?”

Shouto is – is mouthwateringly beautiful; tall and statuesque in a crisp black suit with white accents, something that should make him look like a butler but, you know, it’s Shouto, so of course he just looks like a model, and a red shirt to match Kacchan’s vest, and-

And green gems glittering in the beds of gold ear piercings.

Izuku immediately wants to ditch the gala and just stay home and – and spend hours unwrapping them both and pleasing them both, peeling them out of their clothes layer by layer and kissing every inch of bare skin he can touch; Kacchan is intimately familiar to him by now and there’s no part of his gorgeous body Izuku hasn’t kissed, but Shouto? Shouto is a total unknown. There have been hints about how he’d take it, what he’d sound like, what he’d like, what he’d want-

Gay, he tells himself. That’s – really, really gay, Izuku-

“Shit,” Kacchan says, looking Shouto up and down. “Look at you all scrubbed up nice. Pretty asshole.”

Shou goes pink, looking down at his shoes as he does; he’s scratching his cheek, and he’s clearly kinda embarrassed, but he smiles a little bit as he does and says, “Momo helped.”

Shouto likes being called pretty and Izuku can’t believe Kacchan figured it out before him, damn it!

“Your earrings are amazing,” Izuku adds on, not to be beaten, and Shouto’s blush deepens a bit, aw. “Especially with the suit.”

They get finish up with getting ready – Kacchan complaining about inviting Mineta the whole time, of course – and Izuku only pauses when he notices Shouto looking straight ahead, his eyes faraway, distant.

He approaches slowly, because Shouto doesn’t do well with being snuck up on, and touches his arm gently. “Shou?” he asks tentatively.

Shouto blinks and looks at him.

“Sorry,” Izuku says, giving his arm a little squeeze. “You just looked like you were sad. What were you thinking about?”

Shouto surprises him then – by turning and taking his tie in hand, a soft, maybe slightly exasperated smile on his face – it’s not Izuku’s fault that ties are complicated! – and begins to fix it.

“I went to a lot of these galas as a child and as a teenager,” he explains, and his smile slips. “Endeavour would take me. He stopped when I got into U.A and my training intensified.”

Kacchan says something, but Izuku is busy watching Shouto. It’s a good enough reason – of course it is – but it… isn’t all Shouto was thinking about, for sure.

Still, if Shouto didn’t say, it’s because he didn’t want to, and Izuku won’t press him. It won’t help. He’ll just clam up – the trick with Shouto is to let him know you’re there, and then let him come to you. Anything else is treated with mild suspicion.

He takes Shouto’s hands in his own when Shouto’s done fidgeting with his tie. “We don’t have to go,” he says quietly. “We can totally bow out-”

It’s not really an option, which they both point out, but just the offer seems to relax Shouto, and he stays that way as they get into the agency-sent car and head to the venue.

It’s a good thing it’s private. He and Kacchan – sort of start making out? It’s not completely his fault though – Kacchan grabs his face again and kissing him worked before, so he does it again now, promising to be good.

And then, when they break apart, Shouto is – kind of watching them, eyes big and wide. His hair is pushed to the side; he looks beautiful tonight. Izuku knows Kacchan is thinking exactly the same thing, because he sits up straighter and-

“C’mere, princess.”

And Shouto just goes.

He doesn’t even hesitate – Shou-kun really will do anything if you ask him nicely – he just slides across the expensive seats until he’s right next to Kacchan and he lets Kacchan grab his neck and pull him down-

And they kiss. And Izuku watches, heat crawling up his throat and into his face. His boyfriend is kissing their best friend. He should be mad! Furious even! But it’s so hot – it’s so unnecessarily hot – and he’s pretty sure Kacchan is using tongue-

They break apart, and Izuku spares an errant and unhinged thought for all the fangirls who dream of being the wives of either of them one day, because it’s not going to happen.

“Looked lonely over there,” Kacchan smirks, and his eyes dart to Izuku right as Shouto blinks and licks his lips tentatively, a little puff of steam fluffing the hair sitting over his left ear.

Oh, God.

Izuku’s gonna die. He’s gonna die of horny. Is that possible? Can he die of horny? Should he worry about that?

… It doesn’t seem like that bad a way to go-

It’s a better way to go than death by embarrassment, which is what he’s sure is going to happen when they get there; he forgets that galas come with press attendance, and that the press are very, very interested in interviewing all three of them after their takedown.

He stops Kacchan from interfering – at least for a little bit, because he really narrowly avoided a smear campaign after the trash can incident – and lets Shouto take the lead, grateful that for all their friend is a little – eccentric – socially, that includes an amazing lack of nerves where the media, television, or anything remotely related to fame are concerned.

The interview is over as fast as it began – Kacchan is mad because the reporter is flirting with Shouto (and Izuku doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t have to – he gets it, Shouto is gorgeous) and threatens to kill Shou on live camera; Izuku flails in the face of being on live air, and Shouto ends up having to guide them both away.

He doesn’t even look ruffled. Just beautiful, with his white hair swept up and over his red, exposing his big grey eye and his high cheekbones. He’s regal-looking enough to seem bored, even though Izuku knows that’s just his resting expression.

“Never mind resting bitch face,” Denki had said one night. “He’s got resting rich face.”

Izuku hates to admit it, but he’s right.

They ditch their jackets, and Izuku is laughing by the time they head into the main hall – until Shouto sees the sheer amount of noise and people and stops dead where he’s walking, almost backing up until he hits Izuku.

He feels immediately awful. Poor Shouto. He really, really doesn’t like these things, and for all he’s good in front of cameras and the media, he hates crowds.

Izuku’s hand finds Shou’s back, what he’d do for Kacchan if Kacchan was overwhelmed, and when Shouto turns to look at him, he tries to smile. He thinks it must help, because Shouto relaxes just a tiny bit; beyond him, Kacchan stands guard, ready to call the entire thing off and make a scene if he has to.

“We don’t have to stay long,” he tells Shouto softly.

“It’s fine,” Shou-kun says, and straightens up; it’s not, though, and Izuku can tell, and even Kacchan can tell by how he’s standing and glaring, for sure. “I’ll get used to it.”

Izuku hates that Shouto’s knee-jerk response to discomfort or pain is to just get used to it – because he’s never had any other options at his disposal – but he understands. Still, he’s grateful when Kacchan mutters, “You don’t have to get used to it,” looking really mutinous while he does.

It’s even funnier when he hides behind Shouto as they enter – it must be the only time he isn’t mad about the two inches Shouto has on him.

Shouto gets hugs the second they’re close enough to the girls – they all love him so much, and it’s so, so sweet to see; nothing makes Izuku happier than seeing people love on Shouto the way he deserves – and Kacchan manages to shake everyone off (mostly, Mina and Toru are determined) before asking if Mineta has bothered them, and that’s sweet too, isn’t it? That he cares. Kacchan hasn’t… always been good at caring, so it’s nice. That he does. That he shows it, even.

Ah, Izuku loves them all so much.

By the time dinner actually starts, Izuku is – okay he’s kinda drunk but in his defense, Ochaco is a terrible influence! – and he’s content and happy, and they’ve got Shouto sandwiched in between them safely (even though he seems way less nervous) and Izuku is on cloud nine, realizing they’re the ones that get to teach him. To show him intimacy – to make him feel good.

Shouto chose them. Them. Out of everyone – and he could have anyone! – and he accepted it from them.

He sighs, shuffles closer, and rests his hand on Shouto’s knee, watching until those two-toned eyes find him, until the blush works its way up his cheeks, until he’s really focused – and then mouths, “hey,” and smiles wider when Shouto blinks back at him.

He’s so beautiful, and he’s so cute. How is that even possible? Both? At the same time?

“Nerd’s flirting with you, isn’t he?” Kacchan mutters.

Shouto swallows. “I think so,” he says, voice rasping.

Izuku smiles even wider at that.

They’re going to have an amazing night.

Chapter Text

All these fucking years and shortcake still isn’t good with crowds.

They make sure he’s sat in between them – mostly to keep the girls from fawning over him all night, for fuck’s sake – and, when Izuku starts flirting his ass off (fucking indecent, right there, in goddamn public) Katsuki flicks him under the table. The wounded look he gets does jack shit – he’s had two goddamn decades of dealing with the nerd’s bullshit, and he’s had to harden the fuck up. Icyhot, of fucking course, has gone all red and blushy.

Doesn’t take him long to get nervous – always does that around crowds – and slip away from the table; probably already overwhelmed, and fuck, Katsuki gets that. It’s loud as fuck and Halfie’s never been good with big crowds or lots of noise; Katsuki’s with him there, except he has the benefit of hearing aids he can turn off and a dick personality to keep people away from him.

He follows Shou to the bar. He can see him breathe a sigh of relief as he manages to slip away from people, snorts – reaches out and says, “Oi, Halfie.”

Shouto turns to him, right as Katsuki gets his fingers against Shouto’s lower back.

Halfie’s pupils get all big at that, watching him, and Katsuki watches him back. He looks fucking gorgeous tonight, slate-grey suit with a blood-red shirt underneath and pretty-ass earrings in both ears. He’s wearing their colours and Katsuki’s willing to bet good fucking money he doesn’t even realise it. Realise what it does to them to see him like this.

Halfie’s eyes trail down his chest, cheeks tinging pink. Katsuki smirks. Cute, and couldn’t be more fucking obvious about what he’s looking at.

He reaches out, grips Shou’s chin gently, raises his head. “My eyes are up here, asshole,” he says, and Shouto’s meet his, a storm over the ocean. “Like what you see?”

Shou’s eyes slip down his body, lingering on his chest, and Katsuki fucking hates that the stupid beanpole is taller than him – he feels pinned, trapped under a microscope.

“Very much,” Halfie says softly.

The nerve of this fucking guy-!

“Whatever,” he says, coughing to clear his throat. “Where’s the nerd?”

Halfie turns, and the light catches on his jaw, his cheek, making him fucking illegally beautiful in the process. Katsuki’s still staring when he sighs and says, “Ochaco gave him four shots, and then American seventies music came on. I think we’ve lost him for the night.”

That’s enough to break the goddamn spell; Katsuki waves the waiter over, immediately desperate to drink anything that’ll numb the embarrassment he’s about to feel. He loves Deku like nothing else but fuck him, if he has to deal with another repeat of their graduation – the pants haven’t been designed that could withstand Deku’s dancing-

“Four?” Shouto asks dubiously, seeing how many shots he’s ordered.

“Two for you, sweetheart.” He wants to see Shouto’s throat work as he swallows everything down, fucking sue him. “You’re gonna need it.”

Whole damn roof raises, then, with yet another shitty-ass song playing. “Fuck me,” he groans, and promptly downs his first shot, letting it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, relishing in the burn. “What’s he doing?”

Shouto cranes his head back, fishing for his phone. “Moonwalking,” he says.

Oh, for the love of fucking Christ, they take their eyes off him for a goddamn second-

Icyhot’s filming, fucking naturally, posting to that stupid bird app his agents forced him to get – said it’s “good for his internet presence” never mind that Katsuki doesn’t even like fucking talking to people in person – and thank God, he’s reaching for a shot. Finally fucking embarrassed-

“He’s not embarrassing.” The wistful, dopey expression on Halfie’s face makes Katsuki want to maim people. “It’s nice that he has so much fun. I would be too awkward. Izuku doesn’t care.”

Really sees the best in everything, this guy. Used to make Katsuki mad, because where the fuck did he get off being good after a childhood like that, when Katsuki was such a fucking dick? Now he’s just kind of fucking left wondering and – grateful or whatever.

Shou blinks. His cheeks are kinda pink, which is fucking indecently cute. “What?” he asks.

Ah, fuck. He was staring. Too late to pretend he wasn’t either.

“See the best in everything, don’t you?” he asks. He wasn’t expecting to sound so goddamn – pleased about it, like it’s a good thing – it used to annoy the shit out of him, how good Halfie is, after everything that happened to him. He had the right to be pissed, had the right to be nuclear with it, and he wasn’t, and he didn’t fucking – take it out on anyone else. Not like Katsuki with his picture-perfect life did, anyway.

“I try to,” Icyhot says, eyes flitting away. “There’s enough bad in the world. I don’t understand why people would go looking for more.”

Fuck, Katsuki loves him. It’s actually fucking dumb how much he loves him. It was meant to just be Deku, but here he is, staring at Halfie and wishing more than anything they weren’t in this stupid fucking event hall so he could – fucking – take him apart. But slow, so that shortcake doesn’t get scared or nervous.

“Too good for this world, shortcake,” he says, and Shouto swallows, pupils all big and dark like a cat seeing a mouse or some shit. “Take a shot.”

He does – head tilted back, neck on display, and fuck, does Katsuki want to kiss it. Wants to find the pressure points on Halfie that make Izuku moan his name out and leave marks on them, so that everyone would fucking know he was spoken for.

“What?” Halfie asks. His lips are glossed from the booze; his face is flushed. He looks fucking debauched and Katsuki hasn’t even fucking touched him.

“Kacchaaaan! Shou-toooo!”

Oh for fuck’s sake-

The inevitable end to their fucking peace hits Shouto like a tiny-ass, dense-ass Mack truck; poor Icyhot stumbles forward with the motion, and Katsuki’s arm shoots out to grab the nerd by the collar of his shirt just to stop him overcorrecting and falling face-first into the goddamn bar. Fuck, his boyfriend is a disgrace.

And also looks stupidly goddamn hot in that outfit. Why are they fucking here? Why aren’t they at home?

“’Grats, Izu,” he says, strangling his inner monologue with an iron fist. “Nearly took Icyhot out.”

“Oopsie,” Deku laughs breathlessly, and then clings to Icyhot like the shameless sex-crazed koala he really is. “M’sorry, Shoucchan. You just look really gorgeous and I got excited.”

“Fuckin’ flirt,” Katsuki accuses, like he wasn’t just encouraging Shou to drink enough to get all flushed and pretty.

“You too, Kacchan!” Which, fuck no – that shit is not gonna work on him – “That shirt and vest combination, wow.”

Fucking grabby-hands Izu does exactly that, grabbing him by the waist – grip like iron, Jesus Christ, he forgets his stupid strength when he’s been drinking – and then sighing out, “So tiny.”

For the love of Christ, neither of them can just be normal – “Stop feelin’ me up in public, you menace.”

One fucking outrageous comment about his chest (“boobs” according to the nerd, which, fuck him) later, Shouto has been cajoled into fucking selling himself online by shortcircuit, whose sense of self-preservation never did actually return to him, and damn round face has accidentally floated Halfie to the roof. Who lets these clowns out, is what Katsuki wants to know. Thank God Ei is there and catches Halfie right as he falls.

“Fuck me,” Katsuki mutters, takes his second shot, and turns to the bartender. “Hey, can I get a lemonade?”

“Vodka lemonade,” the bartender replies cheerfully.

“Nah, hey,” Katsuki says, tapping the bar urgently as she turns away from him. “Just a lemonade, yeah?” He tips his head at Shou. “Icyhot gets himself into enough damn trouble sober.”

She laughs. “No problem.”

Katsuki leans over the bar for a moment, scanning his surroundings in the mirror across from him. All normal. Nothing out of place – except that pathetic excuse of a shrivelled-up raisin masquerading as a hero – and nobody misbehaving, except his damn boyfriend, who’s waving his arms around wildly enough to hurt someone.

Nobody’s in trouble, though. Or danger. Good.

He shakes his head – who the fuck would be in danger at a damn hero gala? How could any two-bit extra be worse than the shitty edgelords populating the League of Villains? – and reaches out, snagging Izu by the back of the shirt.

“Kacchaaaan,” Izu whines pitifully, wriggling.

“I’m gonna go get Halfie,” he says, and Izuku blinks at him, standing up straight. “Hey, don’t worry, he’s fine. Just looks like he’s getting skittish, you know how he is.”

“Yeah,” Izuku worries. “You?”

“I hate these fuckin’ things,” Katsuki mutters, drumming his fingers on the counter. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” Izuku slips closer to him, close enough that they’re pressed together and Katsuki can feel how warm and solid he is. Built like a tiny brick shithouse, the nerd is, and Katsuki’s mature enough now or whatever to only be mad about it sometimes. “You’re okay though, right?”

Katsuki sighs. Butts his forehead against Izuku’s – kisses his temple as he draws away. “I’m fine,” he promises. “I’m gonna go get Halfie and we’ll go somewhere quiet, yeah? You have fun.”

“I am,” Izu says cheerfully, gives him a quick peck, and bounces off. Menace. Katsuki loves him a completely abnormal amount.

He grabs shortcake’s lemonade, makes his way through the crowd, and finds Ei – well, he finds both of them, but he sees Eiji’s giant-ass frame before he sees Shouto’s – and beelines for them. Icyhot’s nodding along gravely to something that’s being said, and shitty hair is looking a little bereft.

God, they’re talking about fucking pinky again. Gotta be.

He never misses the goddamn mark so of course he was right, in the end – they hustle Ei off to try and talk to pinky, and Katsuki hands the lemonade over to Shouto. It does shit to him, to see the way Halfie smiles when he realises it’s not alcohol, the grateful look he shoots Katsuki. It does shit to him because he knows where Halfie’s gratefulness for simple shit comes from, and that-

He shakes the thought off, takes Icyhot’s arm, drags him away. Too loud – Shou agrees – and he’s been hanging on by a thread all night. Only thing he wants to do is kiss the pretty fucker, but he’s not gonna do it here.

Coat room’s fucking perfect. No one else in there because it’s early and there’s no booze. He’s got Halfie all to himself.

Shouto blinks at him in the low light. He looks ridiculously fucking good – Katsuki wants to strip him buck naked right there, but he doesn’t. Shou’s still gunshy. He has to be careful or whatever. It matters.

“Good thing I know Ei’s as straight as I am gay,” he says lowly, “or I might’ve been jealous before.”

A flush works its way into Shouto’s stupid model cheekbones. “Jealous?” he asks.

Fucking hell. He’s got no clue. Absolutely zero.

“Everyone’s got their eyes on you, shortcake. You got no idea, do you?”

Shou shakes his head, and that’s it – Katsuki can’t just stand there and look; he cages shortcake in with his hands and arms, leans in closer to him.

“I’ve been thinking about you making out with the nerd ever since I caught you,” Katsuki says. “You would’ve let him take you apart right there, huh?”

He sees Halfie swallow. Sees the blush deepen. Sees the way his pupils constrict like pinpricks. Feels – ha, he’s got Shou in the palm of his hand; his dick is swelling up against Katsuki’s hip, and he’s shifting.

“Probably,” Shouto says, and licks his lips. “He’s a very good kisser.”

“He sure is. Wanna know who he learned from?”

Shou’s a fucking enthusiastic learner, Katsuki will give him that much – and he’s making out with Katsuki in the fucking coat room, something even Katsuki and the nerd have never done (no matter how much Izu fucking begs, Katsuki’s got standards for where he’s fucked, and they’re higher than being surrounded by some grannie’s lavender-scented coats).

He pulls back – to catch his breath, ‘cause Shou is turning up the temperature and it’s making the air thick and steamy and hard to breathe in – and doesn’t even get a goddamn second before Icyhot’s gorgeous eyes are on him, wide, pleading.

“More?” he asks, needy – desperate. Learning from the nerd, no fucking doubt. “Please?”

How’s he supposed to say no to that? To either of them? “Yeah,” he murmurs back. “More. Whatever you want.”

Halfie’s head cocks just a little, the way it does when he doesn’t get something fucking conceptually – and Katsuki feels warmth bleeding into his skin at his lower back, Shou’s big hand warmed to the fucking perfect temperature. He can’t help it – slips closer – there are two people in the whole fuckin’ world who care this much about his comfort without considering their own, and that’s why it works. They think about him, and he thinks about them.

It fucking works. If Izuku could just see-

“What do you want, Katsuki?” Shou asks, butter-soft, a little shy even now.

He knows what he fucking wants. He’s known this whole time. Can’t say it, because Izuku isn’t on board yet and they’re going slow, for Shouto, but-

“I wanna take you and ‘Zuku home, away from all these extras,” he says, pressing closer, “and I wanna watch you both get off.”

Halfie’s face is even more flushed than it was to begin with, and he doesn’t say anything, just swallows.

“You okay with that?” Katsuki checks.

Fuck yes, Shou’s nodding. “Isn’t Izuku drunk?”

Katsuki snorts. “He’s not fuckin’ drunk,” he says – Izuku’s gallivanting around on the dancefloor being a shameless fuckin’ flirt, sure, but that’s just him plus a little liquid courage; he’s nowhere near drunk. Katsuki’s seen him drunk, and involves way more crying about Silver Age All Might than anyone wants to fucking deal with, including him. “He’s got a metabolism like a racecar from One For All. He’s an outrageous goddamn flirt, that’s what he is.”

Shouto nods, tongue swiping over his lips. There’s steam rising from his left side. Doesn’t even seem to realise, fuck.

“C’mon,” Katsuki says, stepping away, “we’re gonna go get him.”

~*~

The car ride home is nothing short of fucking hell.

It’s torture in the best damn way – he kisses Halfie again, gets to fluster him, gets to watch the nerd climb into Shouto’s lap and whine about being left out. Greedy ass nerd – Katsuki should discourage it – but fuck, they’re hot together, Izuku’s stupidly tiny dense body dominating Shouto’s lanky ass frame, his confidence, how happy he is.

Izu might have plenty he’s not confident about, but his ability to take Shouto apart and drive Katsuki to insanity while he watches isn’t one of them.

“Everyone else got to touch him,” Izuku’s complaining, rocking idly on Shouto’s lap and more focused on whining to Katsuki than he is on how much of a mess he’s reducing Halfie to. “You made out with him in the coat room!”

“Could’ve joined if you weren’t entertaining the entire fuckin’ peanut gallery.”

It’s kind of a blur after that – leaving the car, hustling inside, getting Halfie into bed (Izuku, the clingy fuck, just grabs him and carries him, and Shouto, because he’s weak as shit where the nerd is concerned, allows it) and realizing they’re here.

Holy shit. They’re here. Halfie in their bed, blinking up at them, suit all ruffled, about two or three well-placed strokes away from coming in his pants.

Katsuki is on him first.

He’s been so fucking patient, is the thing. He’s been so fucking patient and so good and let them both dictate the speed they’re comfortable with, but they’re all here now and on board with what’s happening, and Katsuki’s fucking wanted this. So much. So he sits aside Shouto’s sharp, pretty hips, finds his shirt buttons, and gets to work – reveals the creamy, pale skin of his chest, hairless because Halfie’s never grown any hair for as long as they’ve known him.

Izu mumbles about that sometimes, wondering if it’s got something to do with his quirk. Katsuki just figures he takes more after his mom – in more ways than one.

“Kacchan-”

He turns into Izuku’s kiss, hungry for it, hands pausing as he focusses more on the warm lips, the familiar tongue at the seam, the way Izu’s jaw feels under the rough pads of his fingers as he grabs it to direct him. It only stops when Izuku starts whining that they’re all wearing too much – Katsuki fervently fucking agrees with that assessment – and pulls away.

Halfie’s watching them both, mouth a little open, steam clouding his hair up on the left, pretty ice fractals peppering his skin on the right.

Time to get him involved. Build his confidence or whatever.

“Halfie,” he commands, “tell the nerd what I told you in the coat room.”

Zuku’s eyes dart between them, curious.

He sells Izuku out, then, of course. Nerd’s way too easy to rile up and it’s way too fucking fun to pass up the opportunity when it presents itself; he rats Izu out, watches as Shouto’s fluster worsens, as he squirms, his cock digging into the seat of Katsuki’s pants.

(What he wouldn’t give to have it inside him. Fuck, he wants it so bad but – nah; tonight’s about Shou. This is the furthest they’ve gotten. It’s fucking important.)

“So?” Katsuki prompts, when Izu’s done waxing lyrical about how much he wants to suck Shouto’s cock. “You wanna fuck the nerd’s mouth?”

A few seconds. Shou stares at them both, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual.

“Yeah,” he settles with, quiet, and Katsuki glances sideways just in time to see Izuku’s grin, matching his own.

“Pants off,” he says cheerfully, and then begins to yank them downwards – fuck, but shortcake’s got some gorgeous legs, long and sinewy with muscle with muscular thighs. Be a dream to have those squeezed around his waist, Katsuki just knows it.

So they get him out of his shirt and his pants and it’s still not enough even though he’s just got his underwear on, but he’s-

Gone kinda still.

Katsuki stops, cocking his head to the side. Shou’s not protesting, but he doesn’t seem as enthusiastic, either, and that’s-

“Y’okay?” he checks.

Nerd backs off right away, glancing between them. Shouto takes a breath.

“I’m nervous.”

Ah. Fuck. Probably should’ve seen that one coming. It’s a big deal for shortcake, always has been, that’s why they’re here. To help. Doesn’t matter that it’s them; ‘course he’s nervous.

“We can slow down.” Izuku’s gone low, to whisper into Shouto’s ear; Katsuki puts a hand on his chest, smooths over it. “Or we can stop completely. Anything you want, Shou. If you’re not having fun, neither are we. It’s okay. We can work up to it.”

“Not sexy if you’re scared, shortcake,” Katsuki says, because it isn’t. Fuck, yeah, he wants this bad, this and more, more than he’s ever wanted anything, almost – but nothing’s worth shortcake feeling scared about it.

Shou hesitates. His fingers find Izuku’s hip and dig in a little.

“I – I don’t want to stop.” Katsuki nods; he strokes Shou’s chest, wordless encouragement. “I just want to – slow down. A bit.”

He makes a face after. Like he thinks it’s lame, or expects them to think it’s lame.

“Okay,” Izu murmurs, warm. “What’s the last thing you enjoyed?”

Shou’s pretty head turns a bit – and he looks right at Katsuki, eyes wide, nibbling on his lower lip.

Fuck. He’s looking right at Katsuki. What was the last thing you enjoyed, the nerd said, and shortcake is looking at him and fucking – waiting, or something. Naked underneath them and looking at Katsuki to soothe his nerves.

It’s too fucking much. He’s gonna screw up. Always has. Only – shortcake fucking trusts him, and okay. If Shou trusts him then – they’re on, or whatever. Katsuki won’t make him think it’s misplaced.

“You want something from Kacchan?” nerd asks, soft and fucking sweet, exactly what Halfie needs. Not Katsuki and his rough edges. “He’s a good kisser.”

Shouto’s throat moves – his face tints – his hand twitches like he’s going to reach, but he doesn’t, and – fuck it, okay. Okay.

Katsuki settles in between Shouto’s legs, careful not to hover over him too much – he’s damn sure that’s what the problem was before – and lowers himself carefully, until the skin of their chests touch, until he feels Shouto’s breath shivering through his own ribcage. Gives him plenty of time to signal no, or stop, and he just doesn’t.

God, he cannot fuck this up.

“You want me to kiss you, creampuff?”

Shouto’s mouth twitches into a shy little smile, shit. Katsuki is done for. Gone. Judging by the way Deku pauses, and his breathing hitches, so is he.

“I like that,” Halfie says, shifting a bit.

“What do you like?”

Fuck, he’s glad Izu asked. He’s all tongue tied, just staring down at their pretty-ass best friend, naked and trusting them.

Shou gets redder – glances away. “Creampuff,” he mumbles.

Holy shit. Okay then. He did something right. Did something Halfie liked, and it was simple as some dumbass off-the-cuff nickname, but he commits it to memory now, how much Shou likes it.

“You like that, huh?” Katsuki asks.

Shou nods, decisive even after admitting he was fuckin’ nervous, and when Katsuki leans in to kiss him, it’s reciprocated – Halfie kisses back like he’s worried they’re gonna ditch and this is his last chance, temperature flaring on both sides of his body.

Katsuki keeps it calm. Tries to keep it calm, anyway. Shou said go slow, but his dick is not getting the damn memo.

“Fuck,” Izuku whines. “You’re both so gorgeous.”

He doesn’t get to see them making out, because he’s got bigger fish to fry – namely, getting one of Shou’s stupidly pretty pink nipples into his mouth (and Christ, is everything about this wannabe popsicle gorgeous? How is that fair?) and listening as Shouto gasps, as he arches, as a shiver of pleasure races through his body.

“Oh, do that again, Kacchan,” Izuku’s voice comes – and fuck, Katsuki didn’t need to be told; he has eyes, he can fucking see, damn it. “He loves that.”

“Tch. Figures.” He laves Shouto’s nipple back into his mouth, and when he looks up – fuck. His stomach jolts; Shouto is watching him, flushed pretty pink and helpless, silent until Katsuki teases the other nipple and he moans.

Fuckin’ hell. It should be illegal, how hot that sounded, how much it turns him into a total horndog – he’s rutting against the bed like a goddamn animal, and Izuku is yammering away above him, words Katsuki doesn’t really care enough to understand.

Shouto seems to think it’s fuckin’ hilarious, how done they are for him, because he’s laughing and smiling which is – fucking better than the nerves from before, if actively harmful to their goddamn health.

“I was wondering,” he says, and Katsuki pauses just long enough to listen – “if there’s a way for – for us all to – together?”

Christ on a bike, what-?

“You sure, shortcake?”

“Yeah,” the nerd interjects. “We meant what we said. If you don’t want to, we can slow down or stop. We want it to be good for you.”

“It is good,” Shouto says. “I was nervous, and we slowed down, and now I’m not as nervous. I know we can stop.”

Goddamn but if Shouto isn’t even more stubborn than him and Izuku combined…

“Well okay then,” Izuku says cheerfully. “Sounds good to me. Kacchan?”

Jackpot. “Sounds fuckin’ great. Can I take these off?”

Shouto meets his eyes. Nothing in them wavers; he stares at Katsuki, and Katsuki stares right back. Pretty bastard – should’ve known right from day dot he’d be fucking doomed. All that ice and fire, all that fight. Figures he’d wanna know what it feels like to burn.

“Yes,” Shouto says.

Chapter Text

Shouto wants to keep going.

Shouto wants to keep going, and Kacchan is grinning, lots of teeth, and he’s pulling Shouto’s underwear down and oh – Shouto’s half and half there, as well, except it’s all piebald, patterned like some strangely coloured Dalmatian.

They learn something new about Shoucchan every day. Especially now. Especially when he’s being this trusting of them.

He kind of gets distracted by the patterning of Shouto’s hair, and Shouto goes a little pink but he doesn’t say anything about it, lets Kacchan kiss the sharp jut of his hips and then says, “I don’t want to be the only naked one.”

Oh! That can be arranged-

He strips, quick, and then harasses Kacchan into doing the same, because Shouto wants them naked and Kacchan is being so slow and they have things to do, namely Shouto, who asked them so nicely-

And then they’re both naked, and Izuku could see Kacchan naked every minute of every day and still never get bored of the sight of it: rippling, pale gold skin over a grid of sinew and muscle, his broad shoulders and impressive chest (Kacchan yells at him when he calls them boobs, but seriously!) and his waist, tapering into a V so sharp Izuku could cut himself on the bones of it.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried, in his defense!

Shouto blinks at them both, tongue darting out to wet his pretty, soft lips, and Izuku wants so badly to lean down and chase it, chase him – but no. This isn’t about him and what he wants. He never thought they’d be here, and now-

“Okay?” he asks tentatively.

There’s a moment’s pause. He and Kacchan look at each other, Kacchan wary.

“Yes,” Shouto says firmly. “I’ll tell you if I want to stop.”

Kacchan double checks – good! – and Shouto promises, and then, with the bluntness that Izuku has come to know (and adore) him for, he says, “How do we all get off at the same time?”

Shouto does only have one mouth, and two hands, but – oh. Izuku glances up at Kacchan, whose expression darkens like he’s warning Izuku not to say it, but Shou’s thighs are right there and they’re so pretty and Kacchan has always loved Shouto’s legs-

“I have an idea,” he says brightly, and leans down to touch – to get close – kisses Shouto’s left shoulder, the few freckles he has there, and he’s so soft and so warm, which he says – he pinches Shouto’s nipple a little just to see what happens and almost whines when Shouto gasps and shifts.

“You know Kacchan really loves your thighs?” Izuku asks kindly, watching as Shouto shifts and arches into Kacchan’s touch.

“Rat,” Kacchan mouths at Izuku, and he grins.

“You do?” Shou asks uncertainly. It hurts Izuku, the way he never seems sure of his own worth, of how beautiful he is – but they can fix that. They can teach him otherwise, and it all starts here.

“Yeah,” Kacchan mumbles. “You got a problem with that, princess?”

Shouto smiles, small but sincere. “No,” he says, flushed, pleased. Beautiful. “Do you?”

Izuku laughs. “He gets sassy when you’re embarrassed, Kacchan,” he teases, and is really grateful Shouto is in between them, because that’s Kacchan’s if-looks-could-kill expression.

“Hey,” Izuku says, crawling closer – and Shouto blinks at him, all wide eyes and curiosity and oh, not a shred of doubt anymore – he trusts them so much – and he can’t cry over it yet, or they’ll think something is wrong-

“I was thinking,” he continues, “why don’t you let Kacchan fuck your thighs?”

Shou tints pink, and Kacchan gives him a half-hearted glare, and sure, Izuku knew he wouldn’t be happy about the thigh thing being outed, but it’s not like Izuku is blind; he knows what Kacchan likes, and besides, Shouto looks eager. Curious.

“How would I do that?” he asks, and Izuku beams, reaching for him and ignoring Kacchan’s muttering.

He positions Shouto – and Kacchan slides in behind him, and all Izuku’s blood rushes south, a spectacular evacuation of every other organ in his body, and his head spins; Kacchan, his big hands on Shouto’s waist, the contrast of their skin together, the scent of Kacchan’s sweat on Shouto’s skin. There’s no room between them, not even for light to pass through-

“You smell good,” Shouto croaks, turning his head to look at Kacchan, to breathe his air, “will you-?”

Kacchan kisses him.

It’s not like it was before. It’s deep, possessive, the kind of kiss that always tells Izuku he wants to have control, to steer them both into pleasure and leave him shaking from the comedown. He kisses Shouto and Shouto lets him, his head tilted back, his eyes shut, as Kacchan’s hand slides to the dip of his waist and clamps, just hard enough to be possessive, and his other hand moves enough to keep teasing at Shouto’s nipples, and Shouto is whining. He whines, and his cock visibly engorges at the sensation, and his hips make an aborted half-movement, like he’s searching for friction but doesn’t want to leave the warmth of Kacchan’s body.

“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart.”

And Izuku promptly has an out of body experience as Shouto does exactly what Kacchan is urging him to, lifts his leg forward, and lets Kacchan’s cock slide up in between his thighs.

He’s watching Kacchan and Shouto fuck. Is he supposed to care? Is he supposed to feel jealous? Is he supposed to care that he doesn’t feel jealous? Oh, God. He’s not going to make it to the main event. He’s gonna come just watching Kacchan fucking Shouto’s thighs, listening to Kacchan groan and tell Shouto how good he feels-

He has to do something. Something so that he doesn’t just come on the spot. He can’t come early on the night of their first threesome – it’s lame, and Kacchan would never let him live it down-

When he kisses Shouto’s neck, it tastes like Kacchan, and Shouto’s temperature is flaring wildly on each side; for a moment, Izuku leans close to the icy surface of his skin, hoping it cools the flush from him, even temporarily.

“Can I touch you?” Ah, he’s so needy, but he can’t help it and he doesn’t care anyway. “I want to touch you.”

“I want – please-” Oh, he asks so nicely, he always has-

“Kacchan, you could really learn something from Shou.”

But Kacchan doesn’t really bite back because he’s busy fucking Shouto’s thighs, and wow, he says Izuku is an animal but seriously!

Finally – finally – Izuku reaches down, and his fingers wrap around the base of Shouto’s cock, and Shouto – oh. His head drops back to Kacchan’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, and he pushes into Izuku’s hand desperately, and Izuku is pretty sure he’s drooling at the sight of it, as he strokes Shouto, all the way to the head, feels the beads of moisture there.

Nobody has ever touched Shouto like this. Nobody ever. He and Kacchan are the first.

“Izuku,” he cries, and Izuku’s mouth dries up; he almost pauses, almost, but he keeps going, and Kacchan grunts, pushing closer, says, “you gonna be a crier, sweetheart?”

“I hope so,” Izuku blurts, not even really meaning to, but how is he supposed to just keep that thought to himself? “You’re so pretty, Shou, you’re doing so good-”

It’s a good thing Shouto likes his mumbling because he can’t stop, and it’s pure filth, asking Shouto how Kacchan’s cock feels between his thighs – his thighs, which are slick with sweat and precome, and Kacchan is breathing like a racehorse, sides heaving, fingers digging in, and Shouto reaches for him too – drags Kacchan closer to him with a hand on his hip – and oh, they’re going to-

“Not gonna last,” Kacchan gasps, and Izuku watches, rapt, as his cock jerks between Shouto’s legs.

“’Suki, Katsuki-”

Kacchan groans and tenses, and then he’s coming, hips stuttering as he does, and it’s all over Shouto’s thighs and the bedspread and-

Well, it’s time for Shouto to come too.

He spills into Izuku’s hand, trying to hide his face in Kacchan’s arm, and a split second later a little sheet of ice fans out from his right side, turning his skin to marble, climbing up onto Kacchan’s skin like greedy little vines, and God, he’s so hard, he’s so fucking hard-

“Where d’you want him, ‘Zuku?”

Right, oh, he’s in this too, which means – “I – I kind wanna come on you, is that okay-?”

Of course it’s not, this is Shouto’s first time, what was he thinking-

“Yes,” Shouto breathes, eyelashes fluttering. “Anything.”

And then – and then – Izuku gets to watch Kacchan’s show of brute strength as he tugs Shou over, until Shou is totally braced against his body with his (wet, sticky) thighs apart, just for Izuku. He’s so grateful he leans in to kiss – and Kacchan meets him halfway, always knows what he wants, always anticipates him – and then he kisses Shouto, too, who’s a little more uncertain in it, needs Izuku to take the lead more.

He's the most experienced person here. It’s serious business, being someone’s first everything.

“He’s a mess,” Kacchan criticizes, and Shouto blinks, then turns pink – cute – as Kacchan continues, “look at him. You gonna make it worse?”

Fuck yeah he’s gonna make it worse! Or better, it really depends on how you look at things, and Izuku has always been a glass-half-full kinda guy-

Shouto’s hand closes around him. And Izuku can’t help it; he’s whimpering as he fucks into Shouto’s long, thin fingers, his hand which gets tighter and more sure of itself as time passes, and it’s the only thing he can do: Kacchan is holding him steady, his nose buried in Shouto’s red hair at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, his eyes half-closed, and yeah. Izuku gets it.

And Shouto wants to know if Izuku fucks Kacchan. He looks starved when he says it, like it’ll kill him not to know the answer-

“Yeah, he fucks me,” Kacchan murmurs. “He’s like a machine too. You thought about that, princess? Getting fucked by him? He’s so good. Just wants it to feel good for you.”

“I have.”

Oh God. His fingers dig into the meat of Shouto’s shoulder, but Shouto just continues, mindless to what it’s doing to Izuku’s poor brain – or maybe because he knows exactly what it’s doing. “I thought about both of you.”

Both of you.

Shou can’t be talking about-?

Is he talking about-?

“I thought about taking you both,” he says, and oh shit, that’s – how did he know that’s one of Izuku’s – God, he wants nothing more than to sink into Shouto’s body but he can’t, he can’t – “I wanted you to fuck me first, Katsuki, and finish, and then I wanted to take Izuku as well.”

Oh God. Oh God. Shouto wants both of them to-? How much has he thought about this? Has he heard them through the walls and-?

“Yeah?” Kacchan is saying. “Want us to come in you, then?”

Shouto blinks at him, fucked-out, hazy-eyed, gleaming with sweat and fractals of ice.

“Where else?”

He loses a few seconds from how hard he comes, only dimly aware of the mess he’s making of their best friend, of Kacchan’s heavy breathing next to his ear; his thighs ache, his arms strain, and his only real option is to collapse into Shouto’s arms with a broken whimper, putting his face deep into Shouto’s neck.

They take good care of him, Kacchan outing him as a crier notwithstanding – which, rude! He can’t help it if he gets overwhelmed easily! – brushing kind fingers through his hair and then dragging them off to shower. By the time they get there, Izuku has a new quest on his mind – namely, proving that Shouto’s trust in them isn’t misplaced, and that they’ll take really good care of him.

He scrubs Shouto gently in the shower, feeling the tension drain from his muscles slowly. By the time they get out, Kacchan’s made food, and they eat before Shouto splits off to-

Play Animal Crossing.

Izuku blinks.

He feels like he should’ve seen that coming, given that Shouto’s been on a roll terraforming his town (he still occasionally grumbles about the limits of bridges and waterfalls) but he thought, if anything, Shouto would want to sleep.

Kacchan, when Izuku glances over, rolls his eyes and stands up. He wonders if Kacchan is thinking what he’s thinking – it was a lot, and it was intense, and Shouto seems fine, but Shouto’s impression of a sick animal finding an isolated spot to die is also spot on, so. They should probably check on him.

“How’re you feeling?” Kacchan asks, measured, as they approach him.

Shouto blinks back at them both, momentarily torn between the question and his game, which is emitting the high-pitched noises of one of his villagers – probably angry.

(“Sometimes I think they don’t like my décor choices,” Shouto had said to them, once, when Kacchan confronted him about the noises. “So they get mad.”

“They get what?” Kacchan asks, aghast. “They don’t even have fuckin’ opposable thumbs or goddamn hands to hold tools with, and you’re doing all that fuckin’ work and they don’t like it? Fucking ingrates!”

Kacchan cares a lot about Animal Crossing for someone who claims to not care about Animal Crossing, Izuku reflects.)

“We were a little worried we might’ve overwhelmed you,” Izuku interjects, because he’s sure Kacchan isn’t going to get around to it anytime soon.

Shouto tilts his head thoughtfully, game now lax and quiet in his hands. While it’s nerve wracking to wait for his answer, Izuku has always appreciated that they’re always well thought out and truthful. Shouto is capable of lying to them, sure – but he doesn’t like to.

“At first,” Shouto says, nodding – and sending Izuku’s heart plummeting through his stomach. “But you were both very considerate of that. Thank you.”

Kacchan starts harassing him, tugging the ends of his hair and telling him off for thanking them, but Shouto has clearly already moved onto the next thought as he does, because he’s not reacting. Then-

“Was it good for you?” He sounds scared to know the answer. “I still don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Oh-!

He can’t help himself; his lips find Shouto’s face, his jaw and his cheek, pressing as many little kisses to the soft, warm skin there as he can; Shouto smells so nice. “It was great,” he reassures happily. “You were so good, Shou.”

Then he remembers the end – what Shouto – and well, it’s not Izuku’s fault for hyperfocusing on that, okay! Kacchan doesn’t like it, which is fine and Izuku would never push him, but Shouto-

“Did you mean what you said at the end? A-about?” Oh no, he’s stammering. His face is going pink. Kacchan rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful smirk on his face, because he’s mean and he’s reading Izuku for filth.

“About you coming in me?” Shouto asks, and Izuku squeaks. Trust Shouto to not find it embarrassing at all!

“He’s always wanted to do that,” Kacchan sniggers, because he hates Izuku, actually. “Come inside, that is. I don’t like it, so it’s up to you, princess.”

And then, because Shouto also hates him and wants to end his life, Shouto says, “I think I’ll be fine with it,” and doesn’t get the chance to continue before Izuku kisses him properly – he probably should’ve let Shouto finish the sentenced, but wow! Shouto’s gonna let him-! Shouto, who’s so pretty and so strong-

The kissing dies down, and they’re quiet, until Izuku’s teeth get the better of him and he decides that Shouto’s earlobe is a really good place to bite at, and the reaction he gets makes him want to pin Shouto down and go for round two – but before he can get there, Kacchan is muttering a chastising, “Oi,” and flicking his forehead. “You trying to charm him or something?”

They squabble for a bit – he is not a sexual deviant, no matter what Kacchan says, and he does not appreciate Shouto keeping track of how often he uses bad, not-All-Might-approved words in bed, either! They must be conspiring against him.

“Oi,” Kacchan says, getting Izuku’s attention – Shouto looks like he’s drifted off, worryingly enough. “The fuck’re you thinking about?”

Shouto nibbles his lip. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Izuku, for a moment, thinks this is it – Shouto is going to call and end to everything, because they pushed too hard, made him uncomfortable-

“Neither of you got what you wanted tonight.”

Mostly he and Kacchan have really different brains and think differently, but in that moment, he makes eye contact with Izuku and Izuku can see they’re thinking exactly the same thing, which-

“What?”

“Hah?”

“What do you mean we didn’t – get what we wanted?” Oh, God, have they given Shouto the impression they want more than he’s willing to give? That it’s not moving fast enough for them? He won’t know unless he asks, as much as he fears the answer. “What did you think we wanted?”

Shouto eyes them warily, and Izuku doesn’t miss the tension suffusing into his body where they’re touching. “Katsuki wanted to watch us get each other off,” he says uncertainly. “And you wanted to give me head and neither of those things ended up happening.

Oh. Oh thank God. Izuku has never been more grateful for how literal Shouto is.

“Creampuff,” Katsuki says. “Did you hear me complaining about jacking off using your thighs?”

“… No.” It sounds like he wants to disagree.

“And did ‘Zuku seem upset when he came all over you like a goddamn animal?”

“Hey-!” That was just uncalled for-!

“No…”

“Plans change,” Kacchan says, gentle, and Izuku nods firmly. “We started doing one thing, then we did something else because it was what everyone wanted. Plenty of time for me to watch or ‘Zuku to give you head.”

“The main thing for us is that you’re comfortable, Shou,” Izuku agrees, and it is. He doesn’t care what they do, and he knows Kacchan doesn’t either – they both just want Shouto happy and safe and fulfilled, in whatever way they’re capable of providing. “You weren’t, so we slowed down and we did something else and that’s totally fine. I had a great time! So did Kacchan. It doesn’t matter if the plan changed.”

Poor Shou. He looks like he wants to believe them, desperately, but something is holding him back.

“But… you wanted-”

“You,” Izuku says firmly. “We wanted you and we have you.”

Kacchan gives him a look. The look, even. Oops. Izuku might’ve laid it on too thick – but it’s hard to care when Shouto finally relaxes, smiles a bit, and nods.

“Cool,” Kacchan sighs. Now – can someone tell me why my PR agent has been blowing up my phone?”

“Ah,” Shouto say, looking more than a little guilty. “Oops.”

~*~

Shou and Kacchan have one thing in common: their bedtime.

Izuku waits until they’re both asleep to do any work. One, because Kacchan will yell at him for bringing work home, and two, because he kind of likes the feeling of solitude he gets from being awake when they aren’t.

He loves them both, truly, and he wouldn’t trade them for the world. But nobody gets a lot of alone time around here.

The case he’s helping Shouto with doesn’t have a lot to go on. The file is pathetically thin, and anything he can find has already been found; Momo and Shouto are no slouches when it comes to research and espionage, so if they can’t find anything…

Still. There’s a thought in the back of his mind – this drug, it’s so similar to the one synthesized from Eri. It’s been a long time since they saw anything like it – and, in fact, Izuku thinks this might be unique by itself. It’s too complex to be a street level drug…

Izuku yawns, takes a draw of his coffee, and gets to work.