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“Come on, Deku-kun,” Uraraka insisted. “You are definitely our best chance at getting the most tickets and winning that Christmas party!” Her big brown eyes blinked, and she folded her hands at her chest, leaning forward slightly. “Please?” she begged.
Izuku shifted in his seat nervously. The class was debating what it was going to do for its booth for the school’s annual winter festival, and somehow, Ashido-san had come up with the brilliant idea that the class should make a kissing booth. No one else would have that idea, she reasoned, and everyone loved a good kissing booth!
And then Uraraka had looked up kissing at Christmas on her phone, and found out that kissing under the mistletoe was very popular in Europe and America, and she had eagerly sided with Ashido-san, adding that while a winter kissing booth would be fun, a mistletoe kissing booth would be even better.
It hadn’t taken much to convince the rest of the class. Kirishima-kun basically did whatever Ashido-san told him to do, and Kaminari-kun generally fell in line with Kirishima. And Jiro-san giggled and even said she’d be willing to put together a cutesy Christmas-themed playlist for them to use at the booth, and when Iida-kun and Todoroki-kun (the traitors) said that they would be willing to help build the booth, Sato-kun offered to pitch in, and Tokoyami-kun said that he and Dark Shadow would help, too. And then Hagakure-san offered her quirk to make the booth all shiny and sparkly, and Yaoyorozu-san and Asui-san said they would help with decorations, and before Izuku knew it, Iida-kun was taking a vote and the class was voting in favor of the booth.
And then they had realized that someone needed to actually be kissed, and everyone got very silent at that point.
Until Uraraka had the brilliant idea of suggesting Izuku.
“You’re so cute,” she had said, “and sweet, and you have those adorable green curls and green eyes that sparkle just like emeralds. And between them, and your freckles, and your cheeks, and your kissable mouth, who could resist?”
And then she had laughed, and Izuku had said no fucking way, but then all the girls jumped in and agreed that he was clearly the best option. He’d tried to say no, that one of them—Yaoyorozu-san, maybe?—would be better than him, but then Iida-kun had jumped in and agreed that Izuku was the best choice, and Kaminari-kun had said that Yaomomo was too intimidating (which had earned him a scathing look from Yaomomo, that was for sure), and who wouldn’t want to give their little Deku a kiss under the mistletoe?
Uraraka’s comment, though, that he was the best chance they had to win the Christmas party? That he could help his class?
How in the hell could he say no to that?
“Fine.” Izuku said it in a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’ll—I’ll do it.”
The girls all squealed, and Uraraka gave Izuku a huge hug. “We’re gonna make it so cute!” she promised. “No one will be able to resist you, Deku-kun! You just leave it to us!”
“Ooh, Bakugō!” Ashido-san said suddenly, turning to the one person who, through all of the commotion, had sat in his seat, his feet up, a scowl on his face.
His handsome face, Izuku thought. His perfect face.
“The fuck you want, Raccoon Eyes?” he snapped at her, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
“Maybe we could have you shoot off like fireworks every time Midoriya kisses someone!” she said excitedly. “Like it’s true love!”
“Tch,” he scoffed, frowning at her even more (if that was possible). “I ain’t doin’ any bullshit like that. Who would want to kiss that damn nerd, anyway?” The look he shot Izuku was lethal, and Izuku shivered in his seat—
How was it that Kacchan always made Izuku react to everything so viscerally? How was it that he held such power over Izuku? Like if he so much as looked at Izuku, Izuku was ready to melt all over the floor.
“I’ll have you know, Bakugō-kun,” said Uraraka fiercely, “that the lower grades call Deku-kun Prince Midoriya.” She giggled. “He and Todoroki-kun are basically royalty!” She threw out her hands dramatically. “I am telling you, Bakugō-kun, everyone is going to be jumping at the chance to kiss our Deku-kun!”
“Chaco-chan’s right, Bakubro,” Ashido-san piped up, using the name that Izuku knew that Kacchan hated. “You just wait and see. Girls and guys love our Deku, and they’re gonna be lining up all the way down the courtyard to get the chance to kiss him!”
But Kacchan hadn’t bothered to answer her, muttering simply, “Fuck if I’m gonna fucking help with this goddamn mess,” and pushed his chair back. He’d shot Izuku another look—this time, his ruby eyes glinted like heated steel—and stormed out of the room, Kirishima-kun chasing after him, calling, “Hey, Bakugō, wait! You can’t just run out when we’re trying to plan for the festival!” and Uraraka rolling her eyes at Kacchan’s behavior.
“Well, since most of us agree that this is what we should do,” Iida-kun had said, “let’s start planning out the schematics for the booth, so that we all know what we need to work on.”
Izuku sat back in his seat, trying to pay attention to the blueprints that Iida-kun and Yaomomo were drawing on the board, trying to pay attention to the list of materials that Ashido-san was putting together, trying to listen to Uraraka and Asui-san plot out what he should wear, trying to participate in the conversation, but all he could think about was Kacchan.
Why had he been so angry about the idea of doing the kissing booth? Why hadn’t he wanted to help out? When they had done the concert during their first year at UA, he’d groused, but then suddenly whipped out a pair of drumsticks and revealed he was an absolute kickass drummer. (Which…what could he not do? Izuku really wanted to know.) And then the previous year, when they had done a soba cafe, he had grumbled about how “that half-and-half bastard always gets what he wants,” but in the end he had put on a butler suit and been one of the biggest draws of the festival.
Maybe…was Kacchan jealous that Uraraka hadn’t suggested him to be the one who would be kissed? That she was so insistent that it be Izuku? That she called him “Prince Deku?” (He thought she might have been exaggerating…he’d literally never heard anyone call him that, like ever.)
Yes, maybe that was it. Kacchan was used to being the one who was in charge, the one who could handle anything. The one who faced every challenge head-on and enthusiastically. The one who was strong. The one who was powerful. The one who always saved the day.
The one who Izuku admired, with all his heart and soul.
The one who Izuku…maybe felt more than admiration for.
So perhaps, because this time it would be Izuku…maybe Kacchan couldn’t handle that.
Because Kacchan didn’t see Izuku in the way that Izuku saw him. To Kacchan, Izuku was someone who had always trailed after him, and who, now that they were more equal in both quirk and skill, found every moment to make sure that Izuku remembered that, once upon a time, Izuku had had to catch up to him, and always would be behind.
Izuku wished Kacchan saw him as more. With all his heart.
And part of him had definitely hoped that Kacchan would want to participate in building the booth, and maybe even…want to participate in the kissing part of the booth, too.
Because gods, Izuku wanted to kiss him. Badly. Kacchan’s strong jaw, his powerful hands, his expressive lips. Izuku knew he was in the minority, but he found Kacchan beautiful. His spiky blond hair, his fiery eyes, his fierce mouth, his muscular physique…it made Izuku weak. He had long thought about laying in bed with Kacchan, his strong arms holding Izuku close; he had long wondered if Kacchan’s lips were soft, if his tongue was hot, if he was a good kisser.
Izuku wondered many things, and for a desperate, fleeting moment, he’d wondered if a kissing booth might be a way to get his dreams to come true. But Kacchan had stormed out, making his opinions on the kissing booth, on Izuku manning the kissing booth—on all of it—very plain.
“Deku-kun? Deku? You okay?” Uraraka was patting him on the arm, and Izuku blinked.
“Y—yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “What—what’s up?”
She grinned. “Tsuyu-chan and I know just what you should wear for the kissing booth,” she said, her grin becoming a giggle. She leaned forward, and hugged Izuku. “You’re gonna look soooo cute!” she exclaimed. “We’re gonna have the best booth at the winter festival, and that Christmas party is as good as ours! I can just taste it!”
With one more fleeting glance at the classroom door, Izuku turned back to Uraraka and flashed her his brightest smile.
“I’m gonna do my best,” he said, trying hard to be earnest and excited, “so that we can win the Christmas party for our class!”
He wished he felt as excited as he sounded.
The days leading up to the winter festival were full of hustle and noise and lots and lots of work. Aizawa-sensei had refused to let them off their regular training so that they could work on their festival booth, and so they had ended up staying on campus late into the night, sawing, hammering, and making posters advertising their kissing booth. Uraraka and Asui-san had taken over Izuku’s closet one night, going through all of his clothes, making him try on a wide variety of shirts, and pants, only for Izuku to point out (after Uraraka insisted he should wear a tank top that would show off his muscled arms) that it was the end of December, it was cold as fuck outside, and he would be sitting in the booth most of the day. That prompted Uraraka to text Todoroki-kun, asking him if it would be possible to make a little kotatsu or something that Izuku could use to keep himself warm during the day. She relented on the fashion, though, letting him choose a warm sweatshirt, even though she insisted he wear jeans in order to “show off his assets,” whatever that meant. After that, he was so busy prepping and working with Ashido-san to figure out what lines he could say that would draw people to the booth, he nearly forgot about Kacchan’s reaction to the whole thing.
Occasionally, when they would be talking about the booth during class, Izuku would notice Kacchan’s right eyebrow twitch, and his face blanch, and Izuku’s heart would drop as Kacchan shot him a heated glare that could only mean that Kacchan disapproved of the whole thing entirely. He never raised a hand to help the class prep; when Kirishima-kun asked him to help put the actual booth together, Kacchan had simply said, “Fuck off!” and stalked out of the classroom, slamming the sliding door behind him. The rest of the class took Kacchan’s behavior in stride—“typical Bakubro,” as Kaminari-kun had put it—but Izuku still couldn’t help but feel like something was off about him…something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Something that kept him up at night thinking.
But even though Kacchan’s seeming fury was never far from his thoughts, Izuku couldn’t help but be a little bit excited when the day finally arrived. The class worked through the night to finish their decorations; Uraraka and Ashido-san had insisted that Izuku go home early and get a good night’s sleep; when he protested, Asui-san had (rightfully) pointed out that he was going put in more work than anyone else the day of the festival, and he would be doing his part by getting enough rest and being up and at the festival early in the morning. Even though he was a good boy and followed his classmates’ orders, he still lay awake, long into the night, tossing and turning and thinking about fiery eyes holding him steady, about strong hands gripping his cheeks, about soft lips brushing over his.
When he finally did sleep, he dreamed that every person in line was Kacchan, that every person grabbed him and kissed him and devoured him, and he awoke covered in sweat and with Kacchan’s name on his lips. Izuku sighed.
Maybe kissing lots of people would get Bakugō Katsuki out of his mind for good.
He got out of bed, grabbed a towel and a bathing yukata, and made his way down the hall to the showers. It was still early, and his hall was nearly empty, so he was the only one who was in the bathroom, the only one who showered, the only one in the hallway as he headed back to his room. He got dressed, towel-dried his hair, and sprayed some kind of conditioner for curly hair into his dark green locks. Ashido-san had given it to him, said it would make his hair extra curly and shiny, and when he scrunched up his curls like she had shown him, he was pleased to see that his hair was already drying into thick, luscious rings.
Izuku peered at himself in the mirror: his face was shiny, and fresh; his eyes were bright with excitement; and, he had to admit, his outfit was pretty cute. He closed his eyes, opened them, and took a long, deep breath.
He was ready to be the most-kissed man at the UA High School Winter Festival.
Even if he would have much rather been the only-kissed-by-one-person man.
His phone pinged, and he picked it up, and, when he saw who it was, he smiled.
Morning, Deku-kun! Hot tea and a croissant are waiting for you in the lobby. See you at the festival 😘
Uraraka always did think of everything; he was really, really lucky to have her as a friend.
I just got dressed, he typed back. Will pick up breakfast and see you very soon!
He shoved his phone in his back pocket, got his ID and his key, attached them to his lanyard, and slung them around his neck. He tucked them into his sweatshirt, then left his room. It was still quiet—Everyone must have already left, he reasoned, then headed down the stairs to the kitchen, where sure enough, Uraraka had left him a travel mug of tea and a chocolate croissant. He smiled to himself as he grabbed them off the counter, and turned to head out of the dorm.
“All ready to be the class slut, Izuku?”
“Ka—Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, jumping nearly a kilometer at the sound of Kacchan’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing just a black tank top and a pair of gray sweats. His arms were crossed, and he was scowling at Izuku. “You—you startled me!”
“You’re gonna get startled a lot today, nerd,” Kacchan groused. He sauntered over to the counter, opened the cabinet, and took out a mug. “You better be prepared.”
“Pre—prepared?” Izuku stuttered. “For—for what?”
“You’re gonna get kissed the shit out of today,” Kacchan mused, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “And my guess is that none of these fuckers know what they’re doing. So you better be prepared for teeth, and maybe some tongue, and lots of saliva. It’s gonna be fucking gross. You got breath mints?”
“U—Uraraka said she’d bring some for me,” Izuku replied. He was…shocked…that Kacchan was even talking to him about this, let alone that he cared.
“Good.” Kacchan nodded. “You’re gonna need ‘em. Make sure you got plenty of water to rinse your mouth, too—never know what any of those fuckers are gonna want to do.”
“I—I think our rule is cheek or lips only?” Izuku squeaked.
Kacchan’s laugh was deep, and throaty, and fuck Izuku wanted to know what it would be like to have Kacchan moan his name. “Mark my words, Izuku,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and then pointing a finger straight at Izuku, “at least one person is gonna try and slip you the tongue today. So you better be fucking ready.”
Kacchan’s gaze was so heated, Izuku felt himself wilting, felt his knees quaking, felt his whole body aching for one Bakugō Katsuki. But that was stupid. Impossible. Kacchan would never—
“I—I gotta go!” he yelped, gripping his tea and his croissant tightly in his hands. He turned, and fled the kitchen, running through the lobby of the dorm, running out of the building, and not stopping until he was halfway to school.
He paused, leaning over, hands (still with tea and croissant in them) on his knees, gasping for air. How—what—Kacchan—
Oh my god.
“Midoriya!” Izuku squealed, and shot to his feet, looking up to see Kirishima-kun striding towards him. “Come on, dude,” Kirishima added, reaching out to grab Izuku’s arm, “you’re gonna be late! What the hell have you been doing all morning?”
Izuku allowed Kirishima-kun to tug him along the path to school; he was still taking in big gulps of air. “Ka—Kacchan—kitchen—” he managed to get out.
Kirishima frowned. “Bakugō wasn’t tryin’ to talk ya out of doing this, was he?”
“Oh, no!” Izuku shook his head vigorously. “Just that—he wanted to make sure I was—well-prepared?”
Kirishima made a strangled sound. “I—I bet that he did,” Kirishima grunted, then sighed. “Honestly,” he added, “could he be any more annoying about the whole thing?”
“Why—why doesn’t he like the idea of the kissing booth?” Izuku wondered. Kirishima-kun was one of Kacchan’s best friends. Surely he—
“Damned if I know,” Kirishima-kun shrugged. “He’s just a grouchy bastard who doesn’t like it when other people have fun and he’s not the center of attention. Come on,” he continued, “we’re here.”
Izuku looked up, and saw that the entrance to the school courtyard was decorated with a massive sign that read, Welcome to the Annual UA Winter Festival! The sign was painted in blues and golds on a white linen fabric that was held up by two massive poles striped in red and white ribbon. Izuku gaped, but Kirishima-kun didn’t let him dawdle, tugging him through the gate and into the festival itself.
“Uraraka’s gonna have my ass if I don’t get you there like now,” he muttered. “She’s been wondering where you’ve been.”
Izuku gulped; he loved Uraraka with all his heart, but when she was mad about something…
“There you are!” She was standing in front of what Izuku assumed to be their booth, her foot tapping anxiously, her arms crossed, her hair floating around her in frustration. “We’ve been waiting, Deku-kun!”
“Bakugō caught him before he left, Chaco-chan,” Kirishima explained, and Uraraka’s frown deepened.
“Of course he did,” she groused. “He can’t leave you alone for a second, can he, Deku-kun? Well, let’s see.” She held him out at arm’s length and considered him from head to toe. “Yes,” she said, more to herself than to him, “you look adorable, but you need…something more.”
“Something… more?” Izuku asked, but Uraraka was already behind the stand, digging around, looking for something. It gave Izuku a moment to take in the full effect of what his class had done, and he had to admit: he was impressed.
Christmas music played from behind the booth (likely Jiro’s doing), which was painted all white; it had a plain square front, with a full panel of wood at the bottom, and an opening where Izuku assumed the…kissing…would happen. The frame of the opening was decorated with fabric snowflakes and stars in white, gold, and blue; they had been sewn and stuffed so that they were three-dimensional, and they were covered in a light dusting of gold and silver sparkles. In the center of the top of the frame was a large piece of mistletoe, which had been tied to the frame with a large golden bow. The wood panel at the bottom was lined with similar snowflakes and stars, and across the middle was painted in large, blue lettering: Class 3-A Mistletoe Booth: Come Kiss Prince Deku!
Which made him blush like all fuck.
There were two huge banners flying next to their booth that were the same colors as the booth, only the fabric was blue and gold, and the lettering was white and sparkling: on one banner read Class 3-A Mistletoe Booth, and on the other, Kiss Prince Deku! with a little crown over his name.
Izuku groaned. The art was really beautiful, and his classmates had done an amazing job setting up the booth, but…
Prince Deku? Really?
“Here!” Uraraka shouted, holding something red up triumphantly. She scooted back around the booth. “For you.” She reached up, and Izuku realized that she had a Santa hat in her hands, and all he could do was bend his head forward and let her put it on his head. She adjusted it carefully, then pinched his cheeks.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, and Uraraka laughed.
“You need a little flush to those cheeks, Deku-kun,” she said. “Now, get behind that booth, and earn us some tickets with that cute face!” She gave him a shove, and when he started to walk towards the booth, she slapped his ass lightly. “Yup, it’s firm!” she said with a wink.
Izuku rolled his eyes, and took his place behind the booth. He looked down, and saw that there were several bottles of water, a small bento, and a canvas bag. He leaned over, traded his tea for a bottle of water, and opened the bag. Inside, he found mints, breath spray, and mouthwash—all things Kacchan would probably be smug about, Izuku thought with a frown. He took a bite of his croissant and opened the water bottle—it sounded more appealing than tea at the moment, anyway.
“Step right up and get a kiss from the Prince of UA!” Izuku glanced up, and saw that Ashido-san and Uraraka were standing a few meters from the booth, out in the crowd, trying to garner up attention. So far, people were just walking by; some were giving Izuku a smile, some were laughing, but no one had stopped as of yet.
Izuku felt his heart sink. Would anyone want to kiss him, at all?
Wait. WAIT.
Why…why did it matter, if it wasn’t…
“I’ll take a kiss, Midoriya.”
Izuku gasped. “To—Todoroki-kun?”
Todoroki-kun shrugged, then ran his hand through his red and white hair. “If we’re going to attract people,” he reasoned, “might as well give them something to look at, yeah?” He handed Izuku his ticket. “Ready?” he asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“Just—just a minute!” Izuku gasped. He dropped down behind the booth, put away his croissant, took a swig of water, and then sprayed some breath spray into his mouth. He did a quick test; his breath was…mostly minty.
Should be okay.
Slowly, Izuku pulled himself to his feet. With a shock, he realized:
This was going to be his first kiss.
His first kiss.
And it was going to be with Todoroki-kun, and not with…
Todoroki-kun leaned over the booth. Izuku took a breath, closed his eyes, and puckered his lips.
Whatever was going to happen, it was for the good of the class, yes?
For the good of the class.
Izuku felt something soft brush his cheek: once, then twice. He opened his eyes, and saw that Todoroki-kun was already moving away, his eyes dropped, a faint blush blossoming over the bridge of his nose. He offered Izuku a wan smile.
“I hope that didn’t make you too uncomfortable,” he said shyly. “But I think that it got the job done.”
Izuku blinked. “Got—the job—done?”
“Yeah.” Todoroki-kun waved his arm, and Izuku followed it to see that a line of girls had formed, all holding tickets in their hands, all giggling at the sight of Izuku and Todoroki standing together.
“The two princes!” Izuku heard one sigh.
“Wasn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen?” said another girl, whose voice was cracking, as though she were ready to weep.
“How beautiful is Todoroki-senpai?”
“How adorable is Midoriya-senpai?”
On and on the girls prattled; Izuku looked back to Todoroki-kun again, but he merely smiled and said, “Looks like you’re about to earn your keep for the festival, Midoriya,” and stepped out of the way, giving Izuku a mild wave.
Izuku watched him go for a moment, then turned back to the line. The first girl strode forward confidently, a big grin on her face, and Izuku smiled back, relieved that he knew who she was.
“Hatsume-san!” he exclaimed.
“Hey there, Midoriya,” she said, smiling back at him, the targets in her eyes focused completely on him. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time; when I saw Todoroki-san up here, I just knew I had to get in my turn before everyone else, too!” She handed him her ticket, leaned over, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You’re cute, Midoriya,” she added with a giggle. “You were the perfect choice for class 3-A’s kissing booth. Now if I could just get you to wear some of my babies while you’re up here…you’ve got quite the line of girls and guys…imagine what they might do if they saw my babies in action…”
“Thank you, Hatsume-san!” Izuku exclaimed, and she grinned and waved before heading off to join some of the others from the class 3-H support team. Izuku watched her go, then turned back to the long line in front of him, and breathed in, and out.
One after another, girls and guys alike came up to the booth, handed Izuku a ticket, and planted a kiss on his cheek. No one was brave enough to ask for a kiss on the lips, although Monoma tried to lick his face, and was promptly reprimanded by Kendo-san, who had been in line behind him. She helped Izuku clean up, then offered a little kiss to the tip of his nose, blushed, and giggled, before moving out of the way to let Shiozaki-san also have a turn.
Izuku got a break every hour for ten minutes, plus a full hour at lunch, but mostly he was on his feet the entire day. His classmates did their best to look out for him; Kirishima-kun brought him a candy apple, which he surrendered after giving Izuku a (very shy) kiss on the cheek, and Ashido-san brought him a refill on his tea to help him stay warm, and then she gave him his first kiss on the lips—just a light peck, but enough so that he could feel the pressure of her lips on his—which made him gasp and her laugh.
“Come on, Midoriya,” she said playfully, “not everyone around here is a shy little bird!” She handed him his ticket and added, “Your lips are lovely,” which made him gulp and Kirishima-kun shout “Hey!” in exasperation.
“You’re doing a great job, Midoriya,” she added. “Look how many tickets we’ve got! I’m sure we’re going to have enough to win the party!”
Her warm smile, so genuine and earnest and affectionate, heated Izuku better than any cup of tea. He was really glad their booth was working, that it was popular, even if he was the one getting kissed.
There was just one thing that would have made the day perfect, though.
“Snow!” Uraraka called out, pointing up to the sky. Izuku followed her gaze, and sure enough, light snow had started falling from the sky. She came over to the booth, pushing her way through the crowd, and grinned at Izuku. “How about a snowy kiss?” she asked, and she looked so pretty, so wide-eyed, that even though he could only ever think of her as a friend—even though there was only one person he wanted to kiss in the snow—Izuku smiled, and nodded.
“Okay,” he said, and she handed him her ticket. Then, ignoring the protests from the crowd, she grabbed Izuku by the collar of his hoodie, and tugged him in for a kiss.
Her lips were soft, and sweet, and Izuku felt warm. She was his friend, and she loved him, just like he loved her, and he tried to pour all of that into the kiss. It was fast, and when she pulled away, Izuku could see tears in her eyes.
“Uraraka?” he said.
She giggled. “It’s nothing,” she answered, wiping her eyes. “Just that—I wish I had the same nerve to kiss who I really want like I do when kissing you.” Her eyes drifted over to their banners, where Izuku saw Iida-kun and Yaomomo talking, and he smiled.
“You should do it,” he encouraged her. “I know he’s not gonna say no.”
“That’s—kind of what I’m afraid of,” she admitted.
Izuku leaned over the booth and drew his friend into a hug. “It’s Christmas,” he whispered. “Time to take a chance on love.”
He felt her tremble, then she pulled away. “I could say the same for you, Deku-kun,” she countered. “Although…I don’t see the person you want to kiss most here, do I?” He gasped, and she giggled. “I don’t think you’re terribly obvious,” she added, “but I know you, and I know that you should think about making a move.” She shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen, right? Oh Iida-kun !” And Uraraka was dancing away from him, and all Izuku could do was watch, and smile, as she pulled up next to her crush and started talking.
Izuku looked back at the line, trying to push Kacchan out of his head for what felt like the fiftieth time that day.
“Who’s up next for a kiss under the mistletoe?” he said, mustering up his brightest voice and his best smile, all the while watching Uraraka and Iida and wishing he could be as bold as her.
Izuku stood in the booth, washing his face with a warm cloth Kaminari had brought him. The day was finally over, and Izuku was exhausted.
How many people had he kissed? How many lips had brushed his cheeks? No one except Ashido-san and Uraraka had been bold enough to kiss him on the mouth, and for that he was kind of grateful (although he had to admit he really liked when Kendo-san kissed him on the nose).
His thoughts returned to Kacchan, just for a moment. Izuku scoffed. Looked like Kacchan was wrong—no one had tried to “slip him the tongue,” or whatever it was Kacchan had said. It was all very polite, and respectful, even though he could see the giddiness in people’s eyes (especially the first-years) when they got close to him.
“Hey, Deku-kun!” Uraraka, Iida, Asui, and Todoroki came over to him. “We’re gonna head over to the awards ceremony now. Want to come?”
Izuku shook his head. “Thanks,” he replied, “but I’m just gonna finish cleaning up. Can I meet you guys in a few?”
“You should leave it, Midoriya,” Todoroki told him. “We can put everything away later.”
“Ahhhh, I know!” Izuku exclaimed. “It’s just that—I made a mess back here, with all the food wrappers and bags and stuff—and I don’t want anyone to see, and so I want to get it in order before you break down the booth, and…”
“Okay, Deku-kun,” Uraraka laughed. “But come find us soon, okay?”
“Okay!” he replied. “See you in a bit!”
His friends walked off, and Izuku leaned on the front of the booth as heavily as he dared and sighed, hanging his head low.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go with his friends—he was actually really very curious as to who all the award winners were. But he’d been around people all day. People had been in his personal space all day. He just…well?
He really, really, needed a break.
Izuku sighed again, allowing his eyes to momentarily close. Doing the kissing booth, he had to admit, hadn’t been terrible. Sometimes, it had even been kind of fun! And at the end of the day, Izuku thought about the fistfuls of tickets Ashido-san and Uraraka were counting up, and he just hoped that all his hard work (because getting kissed that many times was hard work!) would be worth it.
He reached down, grabbed a mint from the bag, and popped it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, his head still bowed as he took his time to enjoy being alone for the first time since that morning, to enjoy the stillness, the quiet, the peace…
“Oi.”
Izuku snapped his head up, nearly choking on what was left of his mint. His eyes widened as he took in the form of the person before him:
Spiky blond hair. Deep, fiery eyes. Strong jawline; handsome scowl. Black jeans and a cargo green military-style jacket with a fur collar. Hands jammed in his pockets.
“Ka—Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice was no more than a squeak; why did he have to always be so lame around him?
Kacchan looked around the booth. “You idiots did a good job today, I heard,” he said, taking a step closer to Izuku. “Why aren’t you at the awards ceremony with all the other extras?”
Izuku blushed, and twisted his hands together in front of his shirt. “Oh,” he murmured. “I just…it was a lot of people today, you know? And I needed a little time to be alone and be quiet.”
Kacchan chuckled. “I fuckin’ hear ya on that,” he replied, taking another step closer. “So,” he added, jamming his hands even further into his pockets, “how—how’d it go?”
Even though Kacchan was acting cool, Izuku thought he detected a little heat in his voice. “It—it was fine,” he said carefully. “I didn’t—everyone was very nice, and respectful. Although Monoma tried to lick me,” he added with a shudder.
Izuku saw Kacchan’s lips curl into a sneer, but just for a brief second. “Fucking moron,” he muttered.
Izuku had to softly laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed. “He kind of…is.”
“You know,” Kacchan said suddenly, digging around in his pocket, “I’ve got one more.”
“One—one more?” Izuku was confused. What could Kacchan possibly—
Oh. There, in his hand, was a single, solitary, ticket.
Slowly, so slowly Izuku didn’t know if this was real or not, Kacchan held out his hand to Izuku.
“I know you’ve had idiots all over you all day,” Kacchan said, his voice thick, “but if you could stand…”
“God, yes!” Dammit! His damn fucking mouth! “I—I mean,” Izuku stumbled—his face had to be so red— “you…you don’t have to pay if…if that’s what you want to do.”
Commissioned Artwork by kalcia
There. He’d said it. He’d taken his chance.
After all, graduation was in like three months anyway, right? He could totally just hide and only come out of his room for class or spend all his time at his internship or…
He watched through hooded eyes as Kacchan’s face broke out into a slow smile. He held out the ticket—for a second Izuku thought Kacchan was gonna shove it in his face—and tossed it aside.
“Good,” he said. “I don’t wanna have to pay, like all those fucking extras.”
And in a beat he was on Izuku, pulling him forward, the whole booth clanging and groaning as their bodies met. Kacchan held Izuku’s cheeks and gazed at him for a long moment, his eyes deep and dark and unreadable. They flickered up to the mistletoe, then back down to Izuku, before he tugged Izuku into a deep, searing kiss.
Oh, gods. It was everything Izuku could have ever possibly hoped for. Kacchan’s lips were rough, and his hands were strong and greedy, wrapping around Izuku’s shoulders, clasping the back of his neck and tilting his face upwards so Kacchan could deepen the kiss. Izuku moaned, and Kacchan slipped his tongue between Izuku’s teeth, painting the inside of his mouth and wrestling against his own tongue.
Hot. It was hot. Izuku had been trying to stay warm all day, but now?
Now…he was burning.
Kacchan grunted, and yanked Izuku closer, the whole booth creaking now under the force. Izuku wanted to say stop, wait, we’re going to break it, but then Kacchan’s hand slipped up into his curls and tugged, and Izuku thought oh fuck it and leaned into the kiss, his own hands suddenly needing and yearning to gobble up as much of Kacchan as he could.
The booth shook and quaked and rocked between them, but all they knew—all they cared to know—was each other.
And in that moment—in that perfect, glorious moment—Izuku had everything he’d ever wanted.
Kacchan broke the kiss first, his lips swollen and his face flushed and his eyes gleaming. He was so beautiful, standing there in the waning light of day, that Izuku could hardly catch his breath.
“There,” Kacchan said, wiping his mouth and smirking, “I told you that at least one person would try and slip you the tongue today.” He held out his hand. “Come on,” he added, “let’s go see how much you crushed the other classes, nerd.”
Izuku felt his entire body light up at Kacchan’s smirk, at the warmth in his voice, and he dashed out from behind the booth, and, with a broad smile of his own, he took Kacchan’s hand.