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Hitoshi flicks the lighter, shielding the tiny flame from the wind. When the end of the cigarette burns he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the smoky menthol. He looks out over the twinkling city lights, like stars in the two AM night sky. (Momo’s penthouse suite is super swanky, he couldn’t imagine growing up here)
“Those are terrible for you, you know.” A teasing voice floats into the air, and it’s almost like it wheedles its way directly into his chest with the way Hitoshi’s heart starts beating. When Denki leans onto the railing beside him, grinning at him over his shoulder, Hitoshi thinks the cigarette smoke might actually be fucking with his lungs with the way he’s suddenly struggling for breath. He distantly hears Sero’s teasing “You’ve got it bad bro,” floating in the back of his mind.
“That’s rich coming from you, considering I saw you pour three espresso shots into a Red Bull just this morning,” Hitoshi says. Denki laughs and Hitoshi, terribly, embarrassingly, thinks that the sparkle in his eyes compares to the glimmering of the cityscape in front of them.
“Okay, fair,” Denki returns.
“Besides,” Hitoshi continues, “tonight’s the last night we can be a little wild, right?” He takes a deep breath, flicking the ash on his cigarette, and the tiny shaking in his hand is evidence of the nerves he gets every time he thinks about the vast unknown that awaits them tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll be U.A. graduates. They’ll be actual adults with jobs as actual sidekicks. It’s a little terrifying.
“Are you scared,” Denki asks, in a vulnerable way that Denki usually isn’t. Hitoshi can tell he’s not teasing, not joking around as he usually does.
Hitoshi lets out a single humorless chuckle. “Shitless.”
“Oh thank god, me too,” A breath of relief gusts out of Denki and Hitoshi can’t help but laugh as well.
Somewhere distantly a car alarm starts, adding to the comfortable silence between them. “We really did it, huh,” Denki asks, voice quiet and subdued, as if he can’t believe it himself.
Hitoshi hums in agreement. He crushes the cigarette beneath his toe, putting it out. He makes a silent note to himself to retrieve it before he leaves so Momo doesn’t look at him with gentle disapproval in the morning.
They’re silent for a moment, and Hitoshi takes a second to breathe. There’s tension in the air and it makes Hitoshi’s arms prickle with goosebumps. There’s a building, blooming feeling in his chest, like everything is bigger than him and there’s some grand poetic story behind what’s supposed to be happening right now. He knows what he should do, but does he have the courage to do it?
Then, as if Denki’s feeling the same overwhelming sense of itchiness in his bones that Hitoshi is, gently, softly, Denki’s fingers are twining themselves in Hitoshi’s. Squeezing. Holding.
Hitoshi freezes for just a second, body stiffening in shock. Then just as quickly, he sinks into the feeling. The sensation of Denki holding his hand, moving in closer, resting his head against his shoulder, holy shit.
“Toshi?” Denki says quietly into the night air. Hitoshi squeezes his hand in return. “I…” he pauses, takes a deep breath. He stops there, as if the words get caught in his throat. For just a second Hitoshi can see the internal debate Denki’s having, the way he bites his lip while avoiding Hitoshi’s gaze.
“Fuck it,” he exhales, then he’s turning toward Hitoshi, and there’s fingers suddenly running through Hitoshi’s wild hair, Denki looking at him with lidded eyes and still squeezing his hand, and—
“Can I kiss you?”
Hitoshi barely has enough presence of mind to nod jerkily, breath stuttering as the words rattle around in his head, taking front and center. Kiss kiss kiss.
Then Denki’s leaning in and there’s a sharp, quick arc of electricity between their lips before they connect. At least Hitoshi thinks there was, but that could’ve been the overwhelming sensation of Denki’s lips against his. Denki tastes so good, sweet and bright and Hitoshi’s hands move on their own, settling around Denki’s waist. He pulls him closer, and they’re flush together, Denki’s warmth spreading through Hitoshi.
Denki presses in harder, lips molding against Hitoshi’s, for just a quick second, as if he’s savoring everything before they finally break apart. It would be cliche for Hitoshi to say that time stops, like in the climax of a cheesy romance manga, but the would could be crumbling around him right now and the only thing he’d be able to concentrate on would be the way Denki’s looking at him. He leans forward and rests his head on Hitoshi’s chest and Hitoshi wonders if he can hear the way his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. He wraps his arms around him, holding him so close, and when Denki giggles into his chest, he squeezes even tighter.
“Hey guys, we’re going to bed and—” Izuku opens the door to the balcony and stops abruptly when he sees what he’s walked into. He squeaks and blushes up to his ears. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I just—”
“It’s fine, Midoriya,” Denki laughs, stepping away, “what were you saying?”
Hitoshi misses his heat immediately, but it’s easily replaced by the way his face burns. He clears his throat awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head and trying not to look at Izuku while also trying not to look like he’s intentionally trying not to look at Izuku. Hitoshi hates the way Denki looks positively unphased and like they weren’t just caught in the act.
That’s not true, he doesn’t hate anything Denki does ever.
“Uh, just that, everyone’s heading to bed so we can get some sleep before tomorrow and we left you guys blankets on the couch and Momo said you can crash wherever and…” Izuku trails off into rambling but the message is clear.
Before he knows it, Denki’s fingers are wrapping around Hitoshi’s own and he’s being pulled into the house. A warm, giddy feeling settles deep in his ribcage as he thinks of what they’ve got lying ahead of them. A swirling of nervousness, excitement, happiness.
Hitoshi squeezes his fingers in return.
⭐
“What ever happened to you and Denki?” Sero takes a drink of the beer in his hand, nudging Hitoshi as he looks across the room. Hitoshi glances up to where Sero’s nodding and there’s a tightening in his chest when his eyes land on the blond across the room.
He’s seen Denki in the last ten years of course; just last week he watched a post-accident interview where he’d saved an entire sinking ferry of people with a huge smile on his face. But he hasn’t seen him like this in…a long time. Hitoshi doesn’t get into the nightlife a lot, preferring small dinner parties with Izuki and Todoroki, or a hike with Katsuki. Their agencies are in completely different districts so they never really cross paths in work either. So seeing Denki with tight leather pants and a top that accentuates his slim waist and a dazzling smile as he tosses back what looks like a flute of champagne is. Unexpected.
Hitoshi doesn't really know what happened with Denki to be honest. The night before graduation was the highlight of Hitoshi’s entire teenage years, and he remembers being so excited for the future…their future. Then graduation happened and they moved and it was harder to make time for friends while starting careers and before they knew it, it was harder to reach out than either of them seemed to know how to manage.
“I’m not really sure,” Hitoshi says quietly. “We just drifted apart, I guess.”
“Well,” Sero says, cutting his eyes at Hitoshi, “lucky for you I believe in second chances.” Realization washes over Hitoshi just seconds before Sero’s opening his loud mouth. “Denks! Over here!”
Hitoshi wants to clamp his hand over Sero’s mouth but then Denki’s looking over and smiling at Sero, and Hitoshi can see the exact second he realizes who he’s standing beside. Recognition floods over his face and he hits Hitoshi with a dazzling, blinding grin and Hitoshi’s knees go a little weak.
Denki looks really good. Breathtakingly good if the way Hitoshi’s having trouble breathing is evidence of anything. He’s surprised that his tongue is even able to respond to the bright and energetic “Toshi!”
Hitoshi’s old enough to realize, and lean into, the cliche now, but it really does feel like the world stops when Denki turns all his blinding attention on him. It’s been ten years of almost no contact, but Hitoshi’s heart still beats like a nervous and giddy teenager in Denki’s light.
“Did you hear me, dude?” It takes so much effort to turn away from Denki.
“Uh,” Hitoshi says, “No.”
Sero laughs at him and Hitoshi wants to roll his eyes, but when he notices Denki’s giggling as well he’d honestly do anything to keep Denki laughing.
Throughout the night, he splits his time between catching up with Denki and being an adequate host. And maybe it should be awkward, talking to the person you almost had a thing with back in high school, but it’s like they’ve just picked up where they were. Denki’s energy lifts Hitoshi in a way that no one has ever been able to, and he lives for the moments he can make Denki burst into guffawing laughter with his stupid sense of humor. He’d been slightly annoyed that he’d somehow gotten roped into hosting the reunion afterparty, but as he thinks of his soft and comfy bed in his room with blackout curtains waiting for him, he’s glad he doesn’t have to crash on someone’s sofa.
Speaking of crashing, Denki’s curled up on his couch, head on the armrest and feet tucked under Tokoyami’s thighs. He’s a little surprised that Tokoyami hadn’t slipped into the night to his own apartment; they’d had a brief conversation earlier about how this wasn’t usually their speed, both seeking a bit of quiet during the height of the festivities. Still, Hitoshi wants them to be comfortable so he throws a blanket over them both, then makes his way to his room.
He settles into bed now that it’s quiet behind his door, everyone either left or sleeping where they’re going to sleep. There’s a burning flame of anticipation in his chest, a hope that now that he’s reconnected with Denki they won’t lose each other in the rush of adulthood again. It’s a comforting thought as he drifts to sleep.
When Hitoshi next opens his eyes, it’s because there’s a gentle knocking at the door. He squints at his cell phone and sees that it’s barely four in the morning. He gets out of bed slowly and heads toward his door where the knocking is happening again.
Realistically, Hitoshi knows he should be surprised to see Denki there waiting for him, but Denki standing there, looking up into Hitoshi’s eyes, sliding quietly into his room, it’s right. Hitoshi leaning down and pressing his lips softly against Denki’s own just makes sense, as does the way Denki wraps his arms around Hitoshi’s shoulders, the way he sinks against the now closed door, pulling Hitoshi even closer.
He’s aware they should be having some kind of conversation right now, but Hitoshi would be content spending the rest of his life held against Denki. He can’t imagine ever wanting to do anything but lick into Denki’s mouth for the rest of his life.
He flips the lock on the doorknob so they can’t have a repeat performance of their first kiss. Hitoshi wants to indulge in Denki, take his time without worrying about a friend bursting in.
“Toshi,” Denki’s voice is so quiet and still a little scratchy with sleep, “Toshi, I missed you so much,” he murmurs into his lips.
God that sends heat shooting through Hitoshi, and he finds himself pushing Denki into his bed, hovering over him. Hitoshi’s had people in his bed occasionally over the years, but no one has ever felt as right as Denki does in this moment.
Before he realizes it, he’s settled in the cradle of Denki’s knees, gripping Denki’s hips as Denki grinds against him and sucks on his tongue.
“Toshi,” Denki moans, and the sound zings right through Hitoshi and settles warm just under his belly button, “Toshi,” he keeps on, panting, and Hitoshi buries his face into Denki’s shoulder to muffle his groan. “God, Denki, you have to be quiet, there are people literally sleeping right outside.” Still, he grinds forward, his thigh pressed snuggly right at the apex of Denki’s legs. It’s so much better than he’d ever imagined. Those nights he’d spent imagining what would happen in teenage lust fueled fantasies absolutely pale in comparison.
“Please,” Denki whines, “I can be quiet, just please touch me,” and that voice is too much for Hitoshi. He leans back on his knees to shove Denki’s dark pajama pants down his hips so he can get his hand in his underwear. When his hand circles him Denki cries out, Hitoshi dips down to muffle him with his own lips, swallowing the moan down so it bursts in frenetic energy between them. “I’m already so close, Hitoshi,” Denki whispers and Hitoshi shivers atop him. His hand pumps Denki steadily while he grinds his hard cock into Denki’s hip. He knows he should wiggle out of his own bottoms but that would require separating from Denki and that’s just not something he can fathom in this moment.
One of Hitoshi’s favorite things about Denki is that sometimes his mouth runs faster than his brain. When he’s writhing beneath Hitoshi, it’s no different. He thrusts into Hitoshi’s tight fist while holding him to his neck, close enough so his lips tickle against his ear. “You make me feel so good Toshi, so much better than I imagined, all these years just wanted to be close to you, ” and it just keeps going and going and Hitoshi grips the bedspread beside Denki’s head to try to reign himself in.
But then Denki’s rolling forward, digging his fingers into the back of Hitoshi’s head, whispering urgently “coming, coming” and making a mess between them. Hitoshi follows not long after, groaning into Denki’s cheek as he comes into his pajama pants.
Denki holds Hitoshi close as he weathers through aftershocks, and when it’s finally done he finds himself clinging to Denki. Denki kisses him in a way he’s never been kissed before, the urgency for the time before climax settled into a softness Hitoshi didn’t realize he missed from Denki.
They take a second to clean themselves up, Hitoshi changing into clean pants, and when he finds himself held in Denki’s arms, he knows he can never let this slip away again.
“Here’s to second chances, huh?” Denki says quietly, giggling a little and pressing soft kisses on Hitoshi’s cheeks. Hitoshi just laughs tiredly, and pulls him even closer, legs tangled together.
“Mmm,” he hums, content, “and happy endings.”