Chapter Text
It’s probably starting to get weird, that he’s been hugging Shouto for several long moments now.
But it’s been so long since Izuku even saw another person, much less held one, and being able to feel Shouto’s solid presence, the warmth of his body pressed close, the brush of his eyelashes where his face is pressed into Izuku’s neck — his heartbeat… it’s incredible. Like he’s been holding his breath without even realizing it and now suddenly can breathe again.
Still, though. Better not to scare him off before he’s even made it all the way into the house. Besides, Shouto’s shoulder blades had felt bony enough to be concerned about, most likely from weeks of trying to stretch his food as long as possible. Get him some food, some tea, show him his room — Izuku can be a good host.
Izuku loosens his arms and starts to step back, but Shouto makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat and pulls him closer — just for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough to feel it. Izuku smiles and blinks back tears — it’s nice to know Shouto had needed that, too. Rather than drop all contact, he lets one hand slide to the small of Shouto’s back, and takes hold of the suitcase with the other.
“Let’s get you settled,” Izuku says. Shouto nods, and they head inside.
Shouto leaves his shoes beside Izuku’s at the door, the sight of which makes Izuku’s heart thump — he’s being silly, obviously; any guest would have done the same. All the same, there’s something about it that seems right.
“You must be hungry.” Izuku gestures towards the kitchen. “Food first, and then I can give you a tour?”
“I really appreciate this, Izuku,” Shouto says, quietly. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.”
Izuku shakes his head quickly. “Oh, no, you don’t have to— Please don’t worry about that at all! My home is your home.”
“I just—” Shouto turns to him, tension apparent in the set of his shoulders. “You’re giving up your food, space in your home… The school ran out of money to keep paying me, so I can’t offer you much right now, but I could— I could pay you back, once things go back to normal, or if it’s urgent I could reach out to my father—”
Izuku’s eyes widen. Unlike him, Shouto is not prone to rambling — the bizarre situation must be fraying his nerves. Izuku takes both of Shouto’s hands in his and squeezes gently. “Shouto, I don’t even know where to start — I don’t want any money, you’re not ‘taking up space’, I have more than enough food, and you definitely don’t need to talk to your dad for my sake!”
He must be making a comical face, because Shouto lets out a shaky laugh. “Sorry.” Shouto lowers his gaze. “The world is so strange right now, it’s like people are either turning into amoral assholes or demonstrating incredible acts of selflessness.” He looks back up, smiling softly, and something expands in Izuku’s chest. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised which category you fall into.”
Oh, god. He is so far gone over this man, it’s ridiculous.
“Haaahh,” he says, a very cogent response.
“You’re amazing, Izuku.” Shouto sighs and releases one of his hands in order to push a lock of white hair out of his face. “At least promise you’ll let me help however I can as long as I’m staying here.”
Izuku drags his teeth over his lip. Shouto’s voice has always had an effect on him, but in person, after getting to know him, it’s taken to an absurd extreme. He swallows, wills himself to recall how speech works. This isn’t really any different than talking on the phone, even if Shouto is unfairly attractive up close.
“Okay,” he says — he can be funny, he can be charming. “Then you can help me eat all this food I made before you arrived.”
Shouto snorts, and Izuku grins.
The food is devoured within minutes, and Izuku feels a pang of sympathy at how hungry Shouto must have been, and for how long.
“I can make more,” he says, as Shouto stares down at his empty plate, but Shouto shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m okay, really. I was promised a tour?”
Izuku had torn like a whirlwind through his house just an hour ago, tidying everything in sight. Still, he finds himself apologizing for books left out on his couch, his laundry bin overflowing with clean clothes he hasn’t gotten around to folding yet, an empty glass he hadn’t noticed when he’d gathered up all the dishes and thrown them in the dishwasher…
“Izuku, it’s okay,” Shouto says, chuckling quietly. “My place is a mess. I’m amazed that yours is as tidy as it is.”
“Heh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I may have spent the past hour scrambling to get it like this.”
They reach the guest bedroom, and he sets down Shouto’s suitcase inside. “I hope this is okay,” he says, scratching at his cheek — it’s not an especially spacious room. “It occurs to me that if you wanted, you could just come over for meals and otherwise stay at your apartment, but—” He scuffs his foot against the floor. “I think I’d really like having you here. If you want, I mean.”
There’s a touch on his arm, and he looks up, meeting Shouto’s gaze.
Shouto’s teeth worry at his lip for a moment before he speaks, and Izuku can’t help but stare. “I may be a bit introverted, but the isolation was getting to me, too.” He drops his hand, tucks his arms around himself. “Having someone else close by would be— would be nice, I think. Especially, um— especially if it’s you.”
Izuku presses his hands over his face.
“Oh,” Shouto says. “I’m sorry, that was weird—”
Izuku shakes his head so vehemently his brain hurts. “No,” he manages. “Not weird. I just really like you.”
He peeks out between his fingers. Shouto’s lips are parted, eyes wide, cheeks tinged pink.
Izuku groans and leans back against the wall. “I know you said yes when I asked you out — wow, that seems like ages ago — and since then we’ve obviously— I mean, we’ve been talking all the time, we’ve gotten really— well, I’d like to think we’ve gotten really close—”
Shouto makes a noise of agreement, brows drawn slightly together in confusion.
He should get to the point. What was the point, again?
“Um.” He says. “My point is… I don’t know whether you want to be involved, like, romantically, but— no, just— I just want to make sure you know that this whole— I don’t know, this whole thing with you staying with me— it isn’t dependent on that.”
He stops for breath, inhaling deeply, centering himself, looking Shouto straight in the eyes. “I want to make sure you’re safe and healthy whether you want to be with me, or be my friend, or just be a roommate who I see occasionally whenever you’re craving social contact.”
The flush in Shouto’s cheeks has deepened to a red and spread across his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if he can’t decide what to say — but his eyes are flickering between Izuku’s eyes and his lips. He steps closer, and Izuku’s heart jumps into his mouth.
“Can I…?” Shouto swallows.
Yes. Yes you can. Izuku wets his lips, angling himself closer.
“Can we hug again?”
Oh. Well. That’s good too.
He slips his arms easily around Shouto’s waist, and Shouto’s arms come around his shoulders. Shouto is just a little taller than him, and they fit together so, so nicely.
Shouto sighs shakily, and he bends to press his face against Izuku’s neck again. “Mmm.” His voice rumbles through Izuku’s skin, sending a jolt of heat straight down his spine. Holy fuck.
“I do want to,” Shouto murmurs. Want to— want what? Jesus, he can’t think straight. “Be with you, I mean.”
“Oh.” His voice wobbles. “Well, that’s— that’s good.”
Euphoria floods his chest as Shouto tightens his arms around him and makes a tiny, happy noise against his neck. But… things are going to get awkward real quick if they stay pressed so close together for much longer. “Um.” He clears his throat. “How about a board game?”
“Hm?” Shouto pulls back, and Izuku almost cries from the reduced contact. “Oh, sure, if you want.”
They pick out a quick one, and Shouto beats him easily. He’s torn between feeling proud at how much Shouto has improved, or embarrassed at how completely unfocused he’d been all game long — he’d missed what should have been an obvious move, taking three red tiles to complete the red set and another vertical column on his board. The gap in their score is large enough that Shouto probably would have won anyway, but it wouldn’t have been such a trouncing.
Having ‘Why didn’t he kiss me?’ echoing through his mind the entire time hadn’t been especially conducive to developing a cohesive strategy.
“Everything okay?” Shouto asks, tilting his head just slightly. “You seem distracted.”
“Yeah!” He smiles reassuringly. “Just a busy day, I guess.”
Shouto’s eyebrows twitch down a fraction before he blinks and his expression clears. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure,” he says, standing up from the table. “We can actually watch together properly this time.”
At some point through the opening credits, Shouto’s head becomes a comfortable weight on his shoulder. “This okay?” Shouto asks, quietly, and Izuku nods, draping his arm across Shouto’s back.
The movie might as well be static on the screen, because the only thing he can focus on is drawing small circles into the soft skin of Shouto’s arm.
It doesn’t seem like Shouto minds; the soft hums of pleasure periodically emanating from his throat, and the way he keeps shifting to snuggle closer — both arms now tucked around Izuku’s middle — reveal quite the opposite.
“Can I ask you something?” Izuku brings a tentative hand up to stroke through Shouto’s hair — it’s gotten long, over the past few months.
“Mm,” Shouto says, nose pressed to Izuku’s neck.
Izuku takes a breath. “Why didn’t you kiss me, earlier? It seemed like you wanted to.” He bites his lip. It doesn’t seem like anything Shouto has done would indicate a looming rejection — it’s just… confusing.
Shouto laughs, low and soft, and his breath ghosting across Izuku’s skin sends shivers throughout his body. “You’ll think I’m ridiculous.”
“I won’t,” Izuku says, stroking his fingers through Shouto’s hair again.
Shouto hums against his neck, and Izuku bites his lip again for a different reason. “On my way over here all I could think about was kissing you the moment I saw you,” Shouto whispers, lips brushing his ear, and Izuku inhales sharply. “But I thought I was being absurd — that it would be off-putting to go for it right away — so I promised myself I wouldn’t.”
“I’m not put off,” Izuku murmurs, heart racing. “Your promise was just that you wouldn’t go for it, right?”
Shouto nods, and lifts his face, putting a hand on Izuku’s knee. He’s— god, he’s so close—
Izuku rotates to face him squarely, bringing a leg up onto the couch. His hands go to Shouto’s jaw, neck, face, into his hair — he can’t settle on positioning.
“Izuku,” Shouto breathes, and Izuku locks eyes with him.
He leans forward, closing the distance, angling his face against Shouto’s to slide their mouths together. Oh, fuck, it’s been so long—
Shouto’s tongue is hot along his lower lip and Izuku leans back, letting him crawl over him, one knee sliding between his — fuck, fuck, holy fuck—
Izuku groans, pulling Shouto against him, opening his mouth further, letting his tongue in. Holy shit, Shouto’s hands are sliding along his sides, around to his back, up the back of his shirt—
“Okay?” Shouto breaks to ask, and Izuku nods quickly. Fuck yes.
Oh god — when Shouto had hesitated to kiss him, he’d thought maybe he was inexperienced? Uninterested in the physical side of relationships?
But no — there’s no way that’s the case — not with the way his fingernails are digging in with just the perfect amount of pressure on his back — not with the way his other hand has come up to the back of Izuku’s neck, maneuvering him just so — the perfect angle of access for the scorching line of kisses he’s currently pressing along Izuku’s throat—
What is he doing with his hands? God, where is his brain? One of his legs is wrapped around Shouto’s hips, apparently, so at least part of him seems to know what to do, and heat flashes through him at the realization that Shouto is hard against him—
“Izuku.” Shouto stops suddenly and lifts off of him somewhat, cutting through the fog. “Are you okay? You’re hyperventilating, almost. Can you take a deep breath?”
“Huh? No, s’good—” Izuku blinks, and the lightheadedness that he hadn’t even realized he’d been experiencing fades as he finds himself breathing along with Shouto. “Oh,” he says. “I guess I was getting a little overwhelmed.”
“I’m so sorry,” Shouto says quickly. He shifts to move away, but Izuku catches his wrist, shaking his head.
“No — a good overwhelmed — you didn’t do anything wrong.” He strokes his thumb along Shouto’s cheekbone. “It’s just… been a while.”
Shouto nods, breathing hard, face turning towards Izuku’s touch. “For me, too.”
He plants a kiss on Izuku’s palm, and Izuku pauses, taking in the view. The flickering light from the screen illuminates Shouto from the side. His hair is mussed, unusual split coloration blurred down the middle. His shirt has come unbuttoned somehow, exposing the lean muscle of his chest and abs. He is thin, with the outline of his ribs vaguely visible, but he’s also still really fucking hot.
And he’s straddling Izuku, looking down at him like he’s the most important person in the world. Izuku’s breath catches.
Izuku sits up, wrapping one arm around Shouto, and rotates himself so his back is supported by the couch again. He maneuvers Shouto to stay in his lap, knees planted on either side of him.
He tilts his face up, and curls his hand gently under Shouto’s jaw, coaxing him closer. Their lips come together more gently, this time, in a series of soft kisses, and Shouto’s fingers twine in his hair as he sighs against his mouth.
“Do you want to stop?” Shouto’s voice is low and close.
“Mm,” Izuku says, kissing him again. “Not stop, maybe just slow down.” He trails his hand lightly down the outside of Shouto’s thigh.
Shouto nods. “Okay,” he says, a little breathless. “I can do slow.”
It’s probably for the best, but he has to bite back a sigh of disappointment as Shouto shifts his hips back rather than grinding closer against him. Still, though — better to savor the experience of falling for someone. And with the way his feelings for Shouto have developed so far… he could be the last person he gets to go through such an experience with. His heart stutters at the thought.
“You don’t mind?” Izuku cups Shouto’s cheek, scanning his face for signs of disappointment.
Shouto’s eyes are soft, though. “Whatever you want,” he murmurs, lips curved into a fond smile.
That smile was made to be kissed. Izuku tips his mouth upwards and focuses on spending the next indefinite period of time doing exactly that. Low murmurs, fingers brushing skin — at some point he drops his head back against the couch to let Shouto resume his attentions on the sensitive line of his throat — breathy gasps, pleased hums, and his heartbeat loud in his ears fill his consciousness entirely, until eventually—
—He hasn’t been paying any attention whatsoever to the movie, but the sudden lack of sound from the TV has him shifting to look. The movie is over, end credits finished. He drops his forehead to Shouto’s shoulder and laughs.
“I’m not sure if I can even remember what movie we watched.” He giggles, muffled against Shouto’s shirt.
“I think ‘watched’ is a strong word for what we did to that movie.” Shouto says drily, and Izuku only laughs harder.
His laughing fit is cut off suddenly by a yawn, and Shouto shifts off of his lap.
“It’s late,” Shouto says, flashing his phone screen for Izuku to see — well past midnight. “We should call it a night.”
“I guess you’re right,” Izuku says, with a sigh. “I’m really— I’m so happy you’re here, Shouto.”
Shouto stands up and holds a hand out to him, a faint smile on his lips. Izuku lets him help him up, and keeps hold of his hand as they head down the hall to the bedrooms.
Shouto slows to a halt in front of the guest bedroom, eyes flicking to Izuku and away. “This is me,” he says, quietly.
It would be… heaven, to take Shouto the rest of the way down the hall to his room, but— he’s the one who suggested they take things slower, and if Shouto ends up in his bed things will be anything but slow.
Izuku interlaces their fingers and lifts their hands to his mouth, pressing his lips to Shouto’s skin and letting his eyes flutter closed.
“I’m happy I’m here, too, Izuku.” Shouto’s voice is silky, almost a whisper.
Izuku steps closer, lowering their hands but retaining the connection, and Shouto leans down slightly to kiss him once more. It’s a sweet kiss, with Shouto’s hand gently cupping his face, but Izuku can feel the rapid flutter of his pulse through the skin of his wrist.
“Goodnight, Shouto,” he murmurs, after their mouths part again.
“Sweet dreams, Izuku,” Shouto leans in again briefly to brush a kiss to Izuku’s cheek, and Izuku feels himself flush.
Moments later, settling under his covers, feeling his cool sheets slide against his oversensitized skin, he sinks his teeth into his lip and arches his back, eyes closed, letting his hands wander over his body. Sweet is possibly not the most appropriate word to describe the sort of dreams he’ll inevitably have once he slips from consciousness.
His phone buzzes on his nightstand.
He opens his eyes, reaches for it.
TS: miss you
Izuku smiles, exhaling audibly through his nose. He settles onto his back, pillow soft beneath his head.
MI: I’m just a wall away
MI: but I miss you too
It’s true. His heart thuds harder just thinking about having Shouto in here with him. Aches to think of him being all the way over in the adjacent room.
TS: I’ve gotten used to falling asleep to the sound of your breathing
Oh— his heart squeezes. He rolls over and squishes his face into his pillow.
He rolls back, takes a deep breath, and hits the call button.
Shouto answers immediately. “Izuku,” he says, voice low. He can hear him through the wall, too, just muffled tones.
“I’m here.” He manages to keep the tremor out of his voice. Maybe.
“Stay on the line?” Shouto’s voice is hazy, sleepy. Faint, through the wall.
“Always.”