The Wooing of Todoroki Shouto

Izuku paces the length of his room while he waits for his friends, reading over his notes, mouthing the words to himself.

“-have to be subtle at first and work my way up-”

This is completely crazy. Izuku is completely crazy. This is the worst idea he’s ever had.

“-if I wear the hoodie-”

He thinks about Shouto, smiling gently at him with cookie batter on his cheek.

“-he likes it when I touch his hair so maybe-”

Shouto’s arms around him, his voice rough with sleep in his ear, calling him “Izuku.”

He snaps his notebook closed when he hears a knock on his door.

“I can do this.”

Ten minutes later, with Uraraka, Tsuyu, Iida, and Kirishima squished together on his bed in front of him, Izuku stands with his hands on his hips and says “I can’t do this. This is insane! Why aren’t any of you trying to talk me out of this?” He can hear his voice rising in pitch with every breath coming faster. “I’m on the cusp of ruining my friendship, and you’re all just staring at me like-”

Four pairs of eyes watch him, widening more the longer he talks.

“Wait wait wait, I’m a little behind on all of this. What made you want to do this in the first place?”

Izuku looks out from between his fingers, face heating uncomfortably. “Todoroki-kun kissed me last night…”

“What?!”

“Not… not like a real…” he breaks off and looks anywhere but Kirishima’s sharp toothed grin. “He uhm. He kissed my hair. The- the back of my head? I’m sure of it.”

“Oh man. Yeah that's… a decent indicator.”

“I just… I realized that if he liked me that way, he probably wouldn’t know what to do about it. And I know that I’m scared of losing him. It just occurred to me that if he was feeling those same doubts, there’s no way he would want to risk it. Our friendship means a lot to both of us, and for Shouto, I know that he would prioritize that over his feelings.” If he has feelings, that is. But no, he does, Izuku can’t let himself doubt it at this stage. He cheers himself as best he can, “I heard his heart beating like crazy when we were laying together. He likes me. I know it,” he sighs hopefully, “Well, I’m pretty sure. Sure enough for this next part, at least.”

“So… what are you going to do to him?” Uraraka asks with astonishment.

Izuku deflates a little. “Well, that’s kind of why you’re here? I could really use your help.” He clasps his hands together and presses them to his forehead. “Please teach me how to seduce someone!”

What follows is the most awkward fifteen minutes of his short life. His friends volley suggestions at him, everything from suggestive comments to practically crawling into Shouto’s lap and kissing him. His head is starting to feel a little fuzzy when someone (god damnit Kirishima) suggests a strip tease, and really, he has to draw the line somewhere.

“A-ah… Maybe seduce was too strong a word. I don’t know if I could actually do any of those things… I think a better word would be- woo? I want to woo him. P-please teach me how to woo someone.”

Kirishima bounces forward on his bed, jostling its other inhabitants. “Wait. There’s one more person I think could really help us out here, if we’re going the romantic route with this. Midoriya, you mind if I call Yaomomo in for this?”

“Yaoyorozu?” Izuku asks, surprised.

“Yeah man, she’s great at romance. She’s been trying to woo Jirou for like a month now, I think. It’s going really well, too, I totally saw them holding hands yesterday after class. If anyone knows how to woo, it’s her.”

“I...guess that’s okay.” Izuku hasn’t really spent a lot of time with their class president, though she seems like a really kind hearted girl. He’s a little bit uncomfortable with bringing even more of his classmates into his hairbrained scheme to seduce, woo, whatever, but Kirishima is already dialing her. He reminds himself that he trusts Kirishima’s judgement, and Yaoyorozu has never been anything but kind, if sometimes strict with all of them.

He wonders which one he’ll get to see today...

Yaoyorozu bursts in with stars in her eyes, and Izuku is swept immediately into a strange mix of excited fawning - “I’m so happy you called me, this is going to be wonderful, I’ll teach you all of my moves!” - and intelligent analysis - “As you know a tactical approach would be best suited for Todoroki, can’t come on too strong.” Shining through the haze of bewilderment, though, Izuku can see how much Yaoyorozu really cares for Shouto - “You’ll have to treat him very gently, you’ll be kind to him, won’t you?” He’s filling rapidly with warm appreciation for the girl holding onto his wrists with delicate strength.

It feels a little bit like class, honestly. Izuku, Iida, Kirishima, Uraraka, and Tsuyu all listening intently as Yaoyorozu lectures them on the delicacies of flirting. Hopefully they can get something out of this as well.

“So there are a number of things you can do to make your attraction clear, but not all of these will work for you,” Yaoyorozu tells them. “You have to consider who you’re trying to woo, and the relationship you have with that person.”

“Tell us how you got Jirou to hold your hand!” Crows Kirishima.“I saw it, spill babe!” Izuku is almost startled to see the girl blush, taken aback by the abrupt crack in her graceful demeanor. She stutters a bit over her words, and she somehow seems more approachable like this. Stuttering and heartrending crushes, he can relate to that.

“W-well. Jirou is… special to me, as you know. We aren’t exactly dating yet, but she knows how I feel and she… she said she feels the same.” The giddy joy rolling off of her is contagious, and Izuku feels a happy tingle in the back of his neck.

“What! Yaomomo, you didn’t even tell the club! Todoroki is going to flip, man! I mean, the Todoroki equivalent of flipping,” Kirishima looks ready to burst at the seams.

“Club?” Iida rubs his chin in thought.

Kirishima and Yaoyorozu lock eyes and laugh it off a little awkwardly. “Uhm, anyway, congratulations, Yaomomo!” Kirishima steers the conversation away. “Now how did you get from pining to hand holding?”

Yaoyorozu sighs and perches herself in his desk chair. “It wasn’t easy. Thankfully Jirou is very astute and realized quite quickly that I was flirting. But it took us a while to work out what that meant for us. Really we just started spending more time together, and things started flowing naturally from there. I started with basic flirting, the book I got most of my information on stressed the importance of a few key things…”

The room takes a collective breath.

“To make your affections known,” she schools with patience, “you should start small. Especially you, Midoriya-san.” She gives him a serious look, and he swallows. “Todoroki will not likely respond to ostentatiousness, so pay attention to this.” He nods quickly.

“To begin with, you can enhance your conversations with little things like casual touches. A hand on his arm, lean in a bit when he’s speaking.” Uraraka pulls her phone out and discretely begins taking notes.

The lessons seem to go on forever, cluttering Izuku’s thoughts until he’s sure that he’s losing information out his ears. But the most frustrating part?

“I already do most of these things though!” Izuku interjects when Yaoyorozu takes a breath.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’ve been seducing Todoroki-chan for months now?” Tsuyu croaks, then puts a finger to her wide mouth. “That does pose a problem, though. If you’ve already been doing these things, how do we up the ante and make them seem flirtatious rather than just friendly?”

“Eye contact!” Yaoyorozu announces. “Everything is more intimate with eye contact! A small touch can be quite enough to stir the waters of a heart.”

“Try making a flirty face, Deku!” Uraraka puts him in the spotlight and he immediately feels small. “Oh, not now necessarily, you don’t need to do that,” she comforts. “I just mean you could try to, I don’t know. Wink at him?”

Izuku sputters. “W-wink at him? What? I can’t do that, that’s way too embarrassing!”

“What’s embarrassing is how long you’ve let your feelings go unattended to, Midoriya-kun!” Iida erupts. “Now is the time for action!”

“Bro, just try batting your eyelashes a little bit. It’s adorable, trust me. You’ll definitely win him over if you just act like your cute self.”

Izuku tucks his head into his arms to hide his blush. “It’s not just winning him over, I have to make sure he knows that I like him. I’m trying to get him to realize that I have feelings for him…”

“It would be best to start with something simple. How about a gift? Something thoughtful that shows him that you care for him,” Tsuyu chimes in, the voice of reason and a tether in the storm. A gift isn’t a bad idea, actually.

Izuku’s eyes flick over to his desk.

“Don’t tell me,” Uraraka says with a teasing smile. “You have something already.”

“Well!” Izuku jumps, defensive. “His favorite mug broke last week, so… I’ve been meaning to give it to him for a while.”

“Perfect. It’s simple, thoughtful, and you already know he’ll like it.”

“But- I was going to give it to him anyway! And friends give each other gifts, right? How will this show him that I-” Izuku presses his palms against the heat in his cheeks. “How do I make it mean more than that?”

“It’s all in how you give it to him, man! Eye contact, eyelash batting, the whole shebang! Just make sure he knows that you’re giving it to him because you care about him.”

“I...can do that, probably,” Izuku bolsters himself.

“One more thing,” Yaoyorozu reaches down to rest a hand on his shoulder, and he’s momentarily touched at the reassuring contact from the class president. She looks him in the eye with significance. “Compliments,” she says with finality, but Izuku feels anything but sure about that one.

“Todoroki-kun doesn’t take compliments well, though,” he explains, remembering how his ears went pink at every gentle praise. If Izuku was ever too eager to flatter him, Shouto shut down and cooly changed the subject. “I think it embarrasses him.”

“How do you usually get away with doing things to him that no one else could get away with?”

Izuku sighs. They all know there’s quite a lot of that going on, no use denying it. “I usually just ask, and… and he says yes or no.”

“Has he ever said no?” Uraraka asks dubiously.

“I- uhm. Yeah, I think once or twice.” Surely at least once? Izuku scans his memories of Shouto. Surely he’s not said yes every time, he’s asked for so much in their time together.

“What? What was it? I can’t imagine him telling you no.”

“Uhhh. I think it was-” he scrambles, and is awash in gratitude when Kirishima brings the conversation back around.

“Don’t get side tracked guys. Why not use that method for this?”

“Wha- ask him if I can tell him how amazing I think he is?”

“Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could end up confessing my undying love and devotion to him when I meant to say his hair is pretty?”

The silence that follows rings in his ears like a death bell.

“Bro. You love him?” Kirishima sounds a little choked up, and Izuku is mortified, oh god, he didn’t mean to say it quite that succinctly.

“I-I mean. I don’t know…”

“You sounded pretty certain, Midoriya-kun,” Iida is looking at him gravely.

He looks around at the crowd staring him down, feeling two inches tall. He’d called them here, he’d called them to help and they’re helping, so why is his heart racing like he’s facing down the Villain Alliance?

“Okay!” Izuku bursts to his feet. “Okay, I love him!” It’s the first time he’s said it outloud, and it steals the breath from his lungs. “And- and this is really important because if I do this wrong, I’m going to lose him, and I don’t even know what that would feel like except for maybe a hole in my chest, so just- just please,” his voice is thready, his vision is swimming, Izuku feels exposed and embarrassed with his classmates all staring at him and he wishes suddenly, powerfully, that Shouto were here. Shouto always knew when he was overwhelmed. Maybe he would do that thing where he rests his palm against the back of Izuku’s neck, like he was shielding him, like he was something precious. The thought makes the tears come faster, and he rubs them away quickly.

His room is overflowing with teenagers, spilling from his bed onto the floor and into his desk chair. Izuku feels claustrophobic when he can’t even pace his floor without bumping into Uraraka. He just wants to drink some tea.

“Midoriya-san…”

“Deku, hey, it’s okay, don’t cry,” Uraraka rolls to her feet to cradle his face in her hands, and he feels gross and soggy but it’s nice so he lets her wipe away a stray tear and fold him into a soft hug.

“S-sorry, guys,” he sniffles into her shoulder. “S-sorry. I just don’t want to l-lose him,” his poor attempt at a smile quivers.

“Nonsense!” Iida swipes a hand through the air. “By the time you’re done, Todoroki-kun will be head over heals for you, Midoriya-kun! Your passion is moving! We will do everything we can to help you on this journey!” And he’s so energetic, so eager to help him with his big gay crush, that Izuku can’t help but stifle a watery giggle into Uraraka’s shoulder. Backing away with a thankful smile, Izuku faces the room with a little bit more courage.

“Thank you, everyone. I really appreciate you all being here for me.”

“Midoriya-chan,” Tsuyu soothes and takes his calloused hand into her larger ones. He can feel the slightly rounded pads of her fingers rubbing his encouragingly. “We’re your friends. Of course we would be here for you. I think that as long as you are genuine in your attempts, you will succeed.” She smiles warmly at him. “And if you are anything, you are genuine.” Uraraka comes to rest next to Tsuyu, placing a hand on her shoulder blade with a tender look before beaming up at him.

“You can do it, Deku-kun!”

“Go Deku!”

“We believe in you, Midoriya-san! Please do your best!”

Izuku is caught turning in circles to take in everyone’s encouragement, and feels his smile widen into something much brighter, happy tears springing forward in his still wet eyes.

“I will!”

 “I’m just gonna…. Come right out and say this. We all know that Todoroki is in love with that boy, right?”

A course of agreements fill the hall as they leave Izuku’s room.

“And we’re just going to let him do this?”

Another round of slightly subdued agreement.

“Y’all are despicable.”

“I assure you we have thought about it and come to the conclusion that-”

“You weren’t exactly jumping up to tell him, either!”

“That’s because this is going to be hilarious. Have you ever seen Todoroki’s face when Deku so much as breathes in his direction?”

“Kirishima-chan is just as guilty as the rest of us.”

“Well, I’ve got to live vicariously through them, you know? It’s not like I could waltz over to Bakugou in a hoodie and get whatever I want.”

There’s a long silence, broken only by Iida’s polite cough.

 Izuku is exhausted after everyone files out of his room. It’s midday on a weekend, not their usual day for sparing and far too early for tea, but he wants to see Shouto anyway. He needs to recharge, spend some time with someone who doesn’t know that the name Todoroki Shouto is burned into his heart.

Is it weird to seek comfort from the cause of his emotional roller coaster ride?

Probably.

But he might as well get started on the flirting, right? Izuku takes a deep breath and brings to the surface of his mind every tiny smile Shouto’s ever given him, soft and fragile but full of hope and some unnameable joy, and wraps himself in the warmth it brings him.

He loves him. And hopefully, probably, Shouto likes him too. He owes it to both of them to at least try.

Step One. Flirting.

 Shouto’s still battling his nerves over last night when Izuku invites him to eat lunch together that afternoon, but his anxiety is slightly allayed when the other boy agrees to take their food outside to the field where they usually spar. It’s quiet out here in the grass, and the weather is pleasantly warm.

“About last night,” Shouto begins, ice in his stomach. “Was that really okay? I know I’m more… affectionate first thing in the morning, and I didn’t mean to…” Hold you like I never want to let go? Jesus.

Izuku’s cheeks are alight with color, but his laugh crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Don’t worry so much, Shouto! I didn’t mind. It was nice…” Izuku’s huge green eyes look up at him through the curtain of his dark lashes, fluttering gently against his cheeks. The pink below his freckles darkens when he leans forward and says with a shy grin, “I wouldn't mind doing it again. I get cold, you know."

Shouto’s throat goes dry, heart jack rabbiting against his ribs. He takes a sip from his straw to give himself time before replying, “You just want to use me for my quirk. I’m your human heater, aren’t I?”

And he thinks his brain might actually explode when Izuku winks at him, playful and teasing and curly hair and freckles and pink cheeks and sparkling eyes and grinning lips and oh god.

“You’re good for when it’s hot, too, I’m sure,” Izuku laughs at him.

This is new territory, he thinks warily. Dangerously close to flirting, if he were to put a name to it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says lowly, meeting the humor in his eyes with his own. He loves watching Izuku’s face light up at his challenge.

“Maybe after sparring you can show me. It’s been getting hotter and hotter out, I’ll probably need help cooling down…” Something in the way his voice dips just a bit, the flash of excitement in his eyes sends a thrill through his veins like adrenaline.

He’s not backing down, Shouto realizes, fingers fisting in the grass.

They’re borderline flirting and Izuku isn’t backing down.

“You’ll have to earn my generosity.”

And neither is he.

“Oh really?” Izuku guffaws, delighted by his cheek. “Well, I hope you’ll be kind to me, Todoroki-san,” he teases.

“We’ll have to see how you do.”

“I’m told that I make an excellent underdog.”

“You are… full of surprises,” Shouto says consideringly, but he can’t keep the smile from his voice.

“Do I surprise you?” Izuku tilts his head coyly, an eyebrow raised.

“Always,” Shouto says with feeling, meeting the sparks in his eyes with his own heat. Always. From the very beginning.

Strangely it’s this that seems to break Izuku from his burst of confidence, and he blushes brightly and severs their connection, looking away while chewing on his grin enticingly. He lets out a chilly breath, cut free from Izuku’s stare. He misses the eye contact, but gladly uses the time to watch Izuku’s bottom lip turn red under the worrying of his teeth.

They lapse into a pleasant silence. Their almost flirting, if he’s brave enough to hope, is electrifying, but this is more familiar to them. This is at the crux of their closeness, this quiet companionship and easy comfort. In a rare moment of fantasy, he lets himself imagine what it might be like to actually be with Izuku. There would be heat, certainly, and electric banter, but he thinks that it probably wouldn’t be too different from what they have now. He hopes, anyway.

Maybe one day Shouto will find the courage to ask if Izuku would let him hold his hand. Maybe he’ll even say yes.

Shouto lets his foot bump into Izuku’s where they’re stretched out in front of them in the grass and leans back on his hands. The earth is soft and sun warmed under his palms and he lets himself sink all the way down and feel the cool blades of grass tickle his neck. The sun is soft against his closed eyelids, and the breeze blows a piece of hair across his cheek until it tickles. Izuku’s fingers brush his face, callouses whispering over his skin and pushing his hair back soothingly.

This strange domesticated friendship they’ve tied themselves into is slowly becoming Shouto’s favorite part of every day, and honestly it scares him to consider how much of his happiness is tied to someone else. But then, happiness wasn’t even on his agenda until recently; it was more of a side note, something far in the future to look forward to somewhere between moving out and becoming a hero.

Izuku’s fingers are still in his hair and he thinks he might fall asleep to this, thoughts becoming sluggish in the humid heat and limbs feeling heavy. He’s just about there when Izuku lifts his head up gently and slides his leg underneath him so that he’s lying with his head in his lap. And this… this is even better, more intimate, so comfortable. He turns his face to press into the inside of one thigh and sighs deeply. Izuku’s fingers still in his hair momentarily before starting up again. He thinks he might be braiding it, but can’t find the energy to care when it feels so good.

Shouto drifts in and out of a dreamlike state, each time he surfaces the soft pulling of his hair and rhythmic motions are enough to drag him back under for a while longer. In the end, it’s quiet laughter and the slight jostling of the leg beneath his cheek that rouses him. His eyes are heavy as he squints against the sun, grumbling a bit until Izuku moves his head to lean over his and block the worst of the light blinding him. Now he’s looking into a freckled face and bright smile that are blinding in an entirely different way, something impish in the crinkle of green eyes pricks at his brain with suspicion.

Shouto digs the heels of his palms into his eyes before he sits up, savoring the last few moments of lying in Izuku’s lap. “Are you going to tell me what you did to put that look in your eye, or are you going to make me guess?” he says with gravel in his voice.

Izuku stifles a giggle and Shouto glares over his shoulder at him. He can’t maintain any kind of irritation when faced with the unabashed mirth shining at him, but he can pretend. “What?”

Izuku presses his lips together to smother a grin and opens his phone up. He turns the screen to face him and the camera app shows him that his hair has been done up in dozens of short french braids against his head, red and white woven together across the part in his hair, and he wonders how on earth he’d gotten them to stay without hair ties. His own shocked expression is captured when Izuku clicks a picture.

Shouto blinks owlishly for a moment, sending Izuku into a fit of wild laughter.

“You’ve turned me into a desert topping.” Izuku whoops from the ground next to him. “And then you took a picture….” he looks at the boy rolling in the grass with something between admiration and distaste. “I guess this means you want to die.”

He’s not sure what exactly he plans to do when his arm snaps out to grab Izuku, but the other boy gives a startled yip and rolls away before he can reach him and they both rush to get to their feet.

His legs still halfway asleep, Shouto stumbles a bit over himself, losing his balance and his heart leaps into his throat as the world tilts for a moment. He tries to right himself but then Izuku surges forward to catch him around his waist, supporting his weight easily and they’re nose to nose, both of their wide eyes close enough that he can almost feel his eyelashes brush his. He’s… being dipped… like a dancer.

“Caught you, Shouchan,” Izuku says breathlessly, and he can feel the air displace against his mouth like a suggestion of a kiss.

“S-Shouchan…?” He can’t believe that’s the first thing out of his mouth, and winces.

Izuku just laughs at him. “Yeah, well, you said I could give you a nickname didn’t you?” His sturdy arm tightens around Shouto’s waist. “You’re lighter than I thought you’d be…” His voice is wistful, and Shouto’s heart is in his throat for an entirely different reason now. “I bet I could…”

Shouto absolutely does not yelp when Izuku sweeps him off his feet and scoops him into his arms to hold him in a bridal carry.

“Ah! You are light!” Izuku is grinning from ear to ear, a devilish glint in his eye as he starts to spin around. Shouto tucks his legs and wraps his arms around Izuku’s shoulders as gravity pulls at him until his toes tingle and he feels lightheaded and giddy. spinning faster and faster, his breath bubbles out of him until he’s almost giggling, and their laughter is mixing in the air until Izuku stumbles under their combined weight and tips to the side.

They both give a startled shout as Izuku turns to take the brunt of the fall and Shouto feels the impact through his chest.

He’s dizzy and a little sea sick, but it would take much more than that to stop his belly laugh. Tears prick his eyes and Izuku’s chest is heaving beneath him, panting and shaking with his own hysterical laughter.

“Sorry Shouchan, I couldn't,” he puffs, “I couldn't laugh and hold us up at the same time.”

They take deep breaths, and Shouto drops his head down to rest his forehead against Izuku’s collarbone, trying to catch his breath. The arms around him stay firm, one around the small of his back, the other across his shoulders.

“I was going to ask you,” Izuku says between labored breaths. “If I could hold you like this.”

He huffs a little laugh and keeps his head ducked so that Izuku can’t see him blush. “It’s only fair,” he pants.

Anything, he thinks, as Izuku’s fingers start tugging his hair free from it's braids, combing through the tangles and smoothing it down one piece at a time.

 Izuku gets back to his dorm later that afternoon and immediately flops onto his bed to scream into the pillows.

His plan is still crazy, but it’s also wonderful amazing brilliant because everything that just happened will live in his heart for the rest of his life. He feels like his body is floating, high on the breathless laughter of Shouto’s playful side and the way he laid his head down on Izuku’s chest. He think’s he might be a little punch drunk as he giggles and giggles into his bed spread.

Izuku comes up for air and looks at his phone, scrolling through his most recent pictures to look at the stunned expression on his friend’s face when he woke up to a whole head of french braids that looked like whipped cream and strawberry syrup and his heart is pounding in the best way.

He favorites the photo, and the photo before it too, the one of Shouto’s sleeping face, completely relaxed and open, eyelashes casting shadows across his lovely pale cheeks, the graceful slope of his nose, braids keeping the hair back from his forehead. It’s rare to see this much of Shouto’s face with the way he usually wears his hair, and he can trace the winding edges of the pink skin around his left eye.  

He’ll have to ask Shouto if he can keep the picture. He knows no matter how confident he pretends to be that part of him is still self conscious about the scar, and Izuku would never want to betray his trust.

He hopes he gets the chance to tell Shouto that his face is still beautiful, that the dark skin just makes his blue eye stand out all the more, piercing and cool in contradiction to his warm grey brown eye and utterly captivating. Izuku sighs. This is turning into a very long day, but he’s got one more thing to do before the weekend is over and he’ll have to work the rest of his plans around school.

I’ll give it to him tonight, Izuku thinks as he fidgets and looks over at his desk.

It's been awhile since they parted ways, he should have been asleep hours ago. Shouto has been awake in bed for far too long already. He hasn't stopped thinking about being picked up like he weighs nothing, strong arms holding him so tightly. Izuku could probably bench press him if he wanted. That starts a whole new string of thoughts to keep him up so it’s a relief when his phone pings with a message.

[From: Izuku- 2:48am]

☕️?

Shouto slips out of bed and pads down to the kitchen, and almost walks right into Izuku in the entrance. They come chest to chest- he holds his breath as Izuku grins up at him and grabs his hand to tug him into the kitchen, walking backwards.

“I have something to give you,” Izuku says in a rush, eyes glittering, and Shouto feels like he’s caught in a strong current.

On the table sits a coffee mug and Izuku gestures to it with nervous energy overflowing.

“For… me?” Shouto blinks in surprise. He runs a timid finger down the patterned snowflakes on the dark ceramic surface, then slowly slips his fingers snugly into the handle.

The mug is a perfect size, large enough to cup with two hands and rounded at the bottom to fit into his palm perfectly for how he likes to hold them. Shouto holds it reverently in his hands, feeling unreasonably certain that it will break if he’s not careful. His lips part to speak, but there are no words. It’s just a cup, he tells himself when his heart stutters out an uneven tattoo. It’s just a cup, so why does he have butterflies in his stomach?

“I just, I know that your favorite mug broke a few weeks ago, the one with the round bottom? And you always like to kind of cradle it in both hands and none of the other mugs seemed to be the same so I wanted to get you something.”

“It’s…” he ekes out through the lump in his throat.

“Wait!” Izuku bounces in place, then covers Shouto’s hands with his own, pulling his right hand away until the mug is balanced atop his left palm.

“Give it a little heat,” Izuku whispers like a secret, green eyes looking right through him.

Baffled, he heats his hand just a little, and almost gasps aloud when the ceramic of the cup begins to change. The dark surface brightens, and the snowflakes become cheerful flowers in pastels. It’s practical yet whimsical, and so obviously something Izuku would give him that it plucks at his heart.

It’s probably the best gift he’s ever been given.

“How did you...” It’s not a complete thought. He means to ask how Izuku knows that the cup that broke was his favorite, when he can’t remember ever explicitly saying so. Or maybe he means to ask how Izuku knows that he likes cups with round bottoms best. Like always, despite his reticence, Izuku gets it anyway.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Izuku holds his gaze, but his lips are wobbly. “I’m always watching you, Shouchan.”

And it’s so sweet, he’s so kind , Shouto can hardly swallow around the knot in his throat. Its silly to get so worked up but he’s blinking back moisture anyway. He can’t remember ever being given a gift like this, just because Izuku wanted to make him smile, because he’d noticed that Shouto had a favorite cup and it had broken. He is overwhelmed with the need to do something, he has to do something, he has to somehow communicate how precious Izuku is to him, how meaningful something as small as a cup could be, how everything he does makes him feel like he’s floating, he needs to touch him-

Izuku reaches over and brushes their hands together, and Shouto clutches his fingers in his as tight as he dares. He swallows around the wild tide of emotion surging through him.

“....thank you.”

He’s glad when Izuku doesn’t comment on how his words come out choked.

His second gift of the night is a spine tingling smile that makes his mouth go dry.

Shouto hardly drinks his tea that night, too busy playing with the patterns. He presses his right thumb against a bright green flower and watches it fade into a snowflake. Watches each delicate point round into pretty petals as it heats again. He is enchanted. Izuku’s voice is soft background noise, brushing against him like waves in a tide pool gently lapping at his ankles and he’s never felt so warm. He thinks that if time manipulation was his quirk, he would set this moment on an infinite loop.

“You really like it, then?” Izuku asks, cheek pressed against the wood of the table and looking up at him through his messy hair. Shouto gently pushes back a stray curl and delights in the way Izuku’s eyes flutter shut. Something grips tightly in his chest.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

I love you, he means.

The weekend has passed, and in the following days Izuku’s done everything he can think of to charm his friend at every opportunity. From sitting closer together than usual to batting his eyelashes at him, he’s truly tried everything. And it’s going fairly well, he thinks, there’s definitely an electric edge they’re toeing, flirting with free falling every time they lock eyes. But there’s something getting in the way that he can’t name, something keeping their interactions from tipping the scales towards romantic in Shouto’s eyes, he can tell. Something is holding him back, and Izuku is getting increasingly anxious to shatter it until there’s no denying the chemical attraction between them.

In one such moment of desperation, he makes the call. He needs to bolster his efforts and do something to make it obvious to Shouto how he feels. It’s time to give seduction a shot. Izuku calls for support.

“Alright, let’s take down what we have to work with. Can I borrow that?” Kirishima opens his notebook to a clean page. “What are some of Deku’s best features?”

“Midoriya-chan’s big eyes make him look very innocent.”

“I agree, his eyes are quite enchanting. I would like to add strong shoulders and reliable nature to the list.”

“Bubble butt!”

“Good, good, that’s a good start,” Kirishima chews the end of his pencil, sharp teeth digging into the pink eraser. “I’ll go ahead and add leggings...rippling abdominals… aaaaand hoodie,” he says, writing each one in turn. “Oh! And freckles. Though I’m not really sure how we can capitalize on that one, it’s kind of just a given.”

In the end Izuku holds a complete list of his most favorable qualities (hair? That seems debatable), each one with a small box of text next to it containing suggestions for how to use them in a seductive manner.

He’s going to regret this.

“Okay, so make sure you pop your hip, like this, okay?” Kirishima is wearing his own leggings now, one foot on the floor and the other arched, toes flat. “This will make your butt really stand out. Oh, and arch your back too, yeah like that!”

Izuku regrets it. It hasn’t even happened and he regrets it. His only consolation is that everyone but Kirishima and Uraraka had left to take care of their own business for the day. It’s possible they were trying to be considerate of his discomfort with the whole situation, which he appreciates.

Uraraka has no such hang ups, and giggles from behind her phone as she takes a video. It’s for reference only, to see their progress, both boys had insisted. Izuku has a sinking feeling that Kirishima doesn’t know Ochako like he does; she’s got a mischievous streak a mile wide and is almost certainly going to show Bakugou some choice clips of Kirishima as he teaches him how to do a basic strip tease.

He only hopes his close friendship with her will lead to her editing him out of the video.

At the very least, he really, really hopes she has enough sense to edit him out before showing Kacchan.

It’s little easier to let go and focus when it’s just three of them, and he might actually enjoy himself if not for the tedious work of learning to cock his hips, roll his torso, and otherwise look like an idiot. Kirishima is having a blast, though, and he looks surprisingly natural with his movements.

“I took a belly dancing lesson once in middle school,” he says simply.

Yeah, Uraraka is definitely going to show Kacchan, he thinks as Kirishima rolls his body in an unmistakably sexy move.

After Kirishima shows him some more slightly lewd ways to attract Shouto's attention, they move into some far less subtle territory: taking off his hoodie.

“And don’t unzip it, take it off over your head. That way you can kinda let your shirt ride up. Give him a flash of skin, but just a little!” Kirishima turns to scold him with mock seriousness. “You want to seduce him, don’t give away all the surprises! I won’t let my friend become a hussy, not under my careful tutelage.”

“There’s a five dollar word”

Kirishima pokes his tongue through his sharp toothed grin at her teasing. “Tutelage or hussy?”

The run is supposed to help him stop thinking, but it does exactly the opposite. He’s running through a million different ways to woo, seduce, or otherwise completely destroy his relationship with one of the most amazing people he knows.

He thinks again about Shouto’s arms around him, the warm brush of breath against his neck. He wants that again. Izuku needs to give this his best shot. He can’t stay still anymore, not when they’re on the cusp of something so much better than platonic best friend things. He needs to give this his best shot because if he gets this wrong, chances are that he’s never going to get to tell Shouto that he means everything to him.

And that’s just unacceptable.

He’ll start with the tamest of the suggestions. A picture shouldn’t be too hard. A picture is easy.

He takes twelve different photos and sends them to Uraraka to help him sort through. He would send them into the group chat he has with the others, but he’s a little too shy for that, considering the nature of the pictures. Uraraka he can rely on for encouragement and honesty, and he already knows that Tsuyu will be there with her to keep her from being too pushy.

[From: Uravity XD - 6:32]

What the crust, Deku! I could make a lot of people very happy by posting these into the class group chat!

Before he can begin to process the panic in his brain, Tsuyu comes to his rescue.

[From: Uravity XD -6:33]

Don’t worry Midoriya-chan, I’ve confiscated her phone.

Love, Tsuyu

[From: Uravity XD - 6:35]

P.S.- send him the fourth picture, Ochako agrees.

Now or never.

Shouto is lying on his bed reading when his phone goes off. He picks it up with his attention halved, still skimming his book until he sees from the corner of his eye that the message he received is multimedia.

He opens the text and promptly drops his book on his face.

He stares over the pages resting on his nose. Izuku stares back from his phone, fresh from a run, hoodie half unzipped with a white shirt underneath. The shirt is clinging to the damp creases in his abdominals, sheer enough to hint at the tanned skin beneath, and though the picture is still, he can imagine each fleck of sweat pooling at his collar bones shimmering in the light with every panting breath, can almost see his pulse jumping in his neck. He’s not sure if it’s the lighting or just Izuku but the boy in the picture is glowing, freckles like stardust speckling his nose and cheeks atop the sweet blush high on his cheekbones. Izuku’s eyes are downcast to the side, looking demure and shy, but his grin is almost daring in the gentle curve of his lips, the bottom one caught between a flash of white teeth that gives his expression a feeling of coyness.  

From: Izuku -

Just got back from a run, do you have laundry to do?

His voice comes out sounding not his own. It’s too rough, too quiet. He sounds utterly wrecked when he gives a slow and shaky “Ffffuck…”

He almost doesn't want to go down to the laundry room. But he does have laundry to do, and -

Before he can finish his panic, he’s scooping up his laundry bag and his feet are carrying him to the laundry room. Izuku is waiting for him, feet pulled up into one of the plastic chairs lining the wall. He stands when Shouto comes in, and his leggings mean that he can see every muscle in his legs contract as he moves.

“Did you get my picture?” Izuku asks, just as stunning in real life as he was in the picture that is now saved to his phone. If he lets himself look closely, he thinks he may combust.

“Yes,” he says plainly, heart racing.

Izuku lips quirk into a quiet smile but can’t hold his eyes as he shifts his weight, rolling onto his toes as he stretches his arms over his head and tugging his hoodie off, his spine curving into a graceful arc as it’s exposed inch by inch. Shouto’s eyes are glued to the seam of the white shirt where it meets the black material of the leggings, then lifts just enough to flash a peak of freckled skin stretched taught over hardened muscle. Izuku cocks a hip as his hoodie slips over his head and Shouto can’t breathe. He tries desperately to look anywhere but the perfect swell of his- Uraraka’s voice helpfully supplies- bubble butt.

Shouto needs better friends.

But just as Izuku is slipping out of the hoodie, he fumbles it a bit, and his pockets upturn sending his phone zooming out and across the floor until with a muted thunk it hits the wall behind the dryer.

“Wah!” Izuku scrambles after it. The clumsy moment brings Shouto back to earth, blinking away the after images of freckled skin exposed when Izuku’s shirt rode up. Shouto heaves a sigh and grabs the hoodie from the ground to shove it into the washing machine. He turns around ready to help Izuku get his phone but chokes on nothing at the scene laid out in front of him.

Izuku has climbed atop the machine and is peering over it, bent low with one knee on the machine and the other stretching behind him, toes on point and pressed against the vertical surface of the side of the dyer. Shouto has a perfect moment of clarity looking at his friend’s backside.

“Nghuh,” Shouto says smartly. Fuck, he thinks as he numbly watches the boy slip back down onto the floor and crouch low on hands and knees. Does he know? Does he have any idea what this is doing to him? Heat creeps like smoldering embers under his skin.

“Shouchan, can you help me? I don’t think I can reach it like this, but it’s close to the edge over here!” Please don’t say my name like that while you’re on your knees.

Izuku’s back arches prettily and Shouto nearly has a heart attack.

He tries to slow his rapid breathing and rounds the machine to crouch down where Izuku is pointing. He’s right, it’s close to the edge, and he can see that Izuku’s fingers are just a hair too thick, or perhaps a hair too crooked, to fit in the gap and slide the phone out.

“Do you think you can get it?” And his face is entirely too close, long eyelashes, bright green eyes, pink lips parted sweetly, freckles of varying sizes all over his face, don’t think about his freckles. They’re both on their knees in the laundry room and maybe it’s the dryer running next to them but it’s getting hot.

He clears his throat and nods, better not try to talk just now, and leans in closer to slide his fingers under the machine. Just barely, the tip of his middle finger brushes the phone, and he flicks it back towards him to catch it.

“Thank you!” Izuku shakes his head at himself. “I’m sorry Shouto, that was really dumb. I’m glad you were here, I would have had to move the whole thing otherwise! I didn’t think your hands were smaller than mine, though, that’s a bit surprising. But then, maybe it’s just that your fingers are more slender? I’ve never really studied them or anything, but could it be that you have delicate hands? Your hands don’t look small, or anything! Just, uhm…” Izuku trails off and raises a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

Shouto can’t help but let one side of his mouth tilt up into a half smile at the other boy’s familiar spiraling monologue. He bites his lip for a moment, deliberating, then on a whim holds his hand out to Izuku, whose face is now a cute shade of red.

Despite his initial embarrassment, Izuku reaches forward tentatively and lightly touches Shouto’s offered hand (the right one, in case his quirk acts up). He suppresses a shiver at the feather light touch and Izuku grows just a bit bolder when Shouto splays his fingers and holds his hand out palm up for further inspection.

He knows from years of training that his hands are not dainty, nor especially small. They are calloused and hardened, tiny scars barely visible on his pale skin, but looking at their hands together he thinks for a moment that Izuku’s hands are even more battered than his own, jagged lines a few shades lighter than the sun kissed skin. Of course his hands are scarred. You did that. He pushes the old guilt aside with less difficulty than usual. It’s hard to feel anything but breathless wonder with Izuku holding his hand like it’s something precious.

Izuku runs his fingers over Shouto’s, and he notices that his own fingers actually are longer and more slender compared to the the crooked and broad hand holding his.

“I was only half right about them, then…” Izuku breathes quietly, and he’s glad because he feels like any loud noise would bring this moment to an abrupt halt. Instead, it drags pleasantly on until Izuku turns his hand over and presses their palms together to align their fingers.

Shouto’s heart gives a hard thump. He loves the feeling of Midoriya’s hard and warm hand pressed against his, and he takes a special pleasure in being able to curl the tips of his longer fingers over his. Izuku lets out a high noise and coughs before taking his hand back.

“Yep! Very nice hands,” he sputters, quickly getting to his feet and leaving Shouto feeling cut adrift with one knee still on the hard floor.  Before he can miss the contact for long, though, Izuku holds his hand out to help him up.

Maybe a few months ago he would have stood on his own, brushed the hand aside. But today, he relishes the warm point of contact between them. Izuku holds onto his hand longer than he needs to, and Shouto sees some kind of deliberation on his face before Izuku brings his eyes up to meet his with that same unreadable expression, something soft and warm begging him to understand. Slowly, holding his gaze, he brings Shouto’s hand up, up, up until Izuku can brush his soft lips over his knuckles.

Shouto is frozen. He can’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. His eyes stay locked onto Izuku as he presses a kiss into his skin, squeezes his hand one more time and lets go. His arm drops gracelessly to his side. He can’t think. His hand is burning. Shouto’s legs feel leaden and his head is spinning.

“Thanks again, Shouto,” Izuku says with a blush high on his cheeks, and he can’t look away. Izuku turns and says over his shoulder “I’m going to hit the showers, I’ll see you later!” Shouto tries to feel bad about staring at his ass the entire time it takes him to walk back down the hallway, but can’t form a single coherent thought to scold himself with.

Alone in the laundry room, he collapses into a hard chair when his legs buckle beneath him. His left side is dangerously hot, and he strips out of his shirt just in time for his entire torso to go up in flame. Without the shirt in the way, there’s not much in the way of smoke, so he lets it burn. He’s not sure he could put it out anyway. Shouto drops his head into his hands and relives Izuku arching his back, Izuku on his knees right in front of him, Izuku kissing his hand.

Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.

He’s going to die like this, he knows it.

It only makes sense that it’s Kirishima who finds him. He’s glad, he can help him write out a will.

“Hey man- woooooooah,” Kirishima says with a laundry basket on his hip. “You know you’re on fire, right? Like, for real on fire?”

“I am aware.”

“Cool, cool,” he says, and he knows he’s being watched even as Kirishima puts his laundry in to run, so it’s not a surprise when he plops himself into the chair two down from him, a safe distance from the flames.

“You wanna talk about it, bro?”

Thank god for Kirishima.

“I think he’s trying to kill me…?”

“Is that really what you think it is, though?” Kirishima sounds so serious that he has to turn to look at him. There’s humor dancing in his eyes, like usual, maybe a bit of mischief, but the rest of his face says think about what I’m telling you.

“Is it too much to ask for someone to just be straight about this?”

“You want someone from class 1 A to be straight? Really? You’re just setting me up for these, now.” He looks over at him with faux disdain until Kirishima gives in with a sigh. “Probably. I mean, I could go get Tsuyu, but would you really want us to tell it to you straight?”

Of course I do, he wants to say, but Kirishima is watching him with sharp eyes. And dammit, he hates to admit it but he’s right. Kirishima knows him far better than he gives him credit for.

“That’s what I thought. You’re smart, dude, you’ll get it. Remember when I first tried to tell you that you were in love with him?”

Shouto nods and starts putting out the fires on his left side one at a time. Kirishima takes this as permission to scoot over until he’s in the chair next to his.

“You were all ‘Thank you for your input,’ or something,” he does a terrible impression of his voice and laughs at himself, like a dork. “But it didn’t matter. Not really. Not until you came to the conclusion on your own. I could tell you anything right now. I could tell you that Midoriya came to me and asked me to teach him how to strip for you,” Shouto looks up sharply, but Kirishima’s face gives away nothing but stupid, smug laughter. “But you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I might believe it,” he says unconvincingly. Izuku had been moving with uncharacteristic grace… But that really is ridiculous, even for Kirishima.

Kirishima knows he’s right, and grins at him before catching him in a loose headlock to frizz up his hair “Until it’s pink, dude!” Shouto submits to it with a drawn out sigh.

“Todoroki told me what happened, and I gotta say, extra kudos for the phone thing. I’m proud, my little pupil,” Kirishima pretends to wipe a tear from his eye.

“Dropping my phone was an accident,” Izuku hisses urgently.

“Uh huh. And what about climbing on top of the dryer?”

Izuku flushes down to his neck. He hadn’t meant for any of that to be… seductive. He was just embarrassed, he’d thought for sure that he’d ruined any kind of mood with his clumsiness. But then he’d seen Shouto’s face, from the corner of his eye, pinker than he’d ever seen it, and he’d succumbed to the devil on his shoulder (a devil that was sounding more and more like Kirishima) and arched his back a little more, though it killed him to be so- so shamelessly wanton .

Honestly, he thinks that the best part was the impromptu hand kiss, which was playing on repeat in his brain. He let you kiss him, you felt his skin on your lips, his hands are so-

“I kissed his hand,” he tells him, and he can’t keep the goofy smile off his face.  

“That’s fucking adorable.”

“I can’t believe he let me do it. He looked…” Izuku grabs a pillow and shoves his face into it. Shouto’s face had been more open than he’s ever seen it. His eyes wide, mouth soft, completely unguarded. And he had watched Izuku pull his hand up to his mouth, with not a hint of resistance...

“You’re so gay,” Kirishima pulls the pillow away and whacks him with it until he giggles.

“Yeah, but at least now I’m pretty sure that he is to.”

“What? Was that in doubt? Oh man, I forget sometimes that there are two sides to mutual pining. And don’t ask!” Kirishima points a finger at him when he opens his mouth. “No! I’m his friend too, and if I’m not going to go around spilling your feelings I’m not about to discuss his either.”

Izuku gives a sheepish grin, subdued. That’s fair.

“But he did talk to you about me?” he hedges a bit.

Kirishima gives him a look.

“Okay, okay!” Izuku laughs. It’s okay, he can respect that. And he’s sure that Kirishima wouldn’t let him break his own heart by trying to seduce a boy he had no chance with.

“Loyalty aside, though,” he waves his hand as though to dispel his own hang ups. “I have a present for you.” Kirishima folds himself next to him and pulls out his phone. “I took a picture of your handiwork. Thought maybe you’d like to see.”

Izuku frowns at the screen until his brain makes sense of the bright bursts of orange and yellow. It’s… Shouto, he thinks.

“Is he…?”

“On fire? Hell fucking yeah he is. I told you, babe! It's all in how you work that booty,” Kirishima cheers.

“Is… is this really okay, Kirishima-kun?”

“What do you mean bro, it's working!”

“I want him to know that I like him, not stress him out to the point of catching fire.”

Kirishima runs his chin thoughtfully. “I think… it's time to finish this.”

Izuku waits with bated breath.

“I think it's time for a confession.”

Izuku’s stomach drops.

“But… I don’t know how?”

“Start with a compliment!”

“I don’t know, what if it’s too much?”

“You’re about to tell him that you want to hold his hand forever, you can take a chance and tell him he’s cute first.”

“I, I’ll just start slow. And maybe, if it starts looking like it’s not going anywhere, I’ll take the plunge!”

“Attaboy!”

 Shouto stands outside of Izuku’s dorm, stomach squirming with butterflies.

“Thanks for coming over, Shouchan,” Izuku says with his heart in his eyes. He’s wearing the hoodie- of course he’s wearing the hoodie, looking unbearably cute swamped in soft fabric. He leans against the door jam with a hand twisting the doorknob nervously.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes! Uhm. I wanted to talk to you….”

Izuku trails off, eyes drifting somewhere over his left shoulder to focus on something behind him. Shouto watches his freckled nose scrunch in confusion and turns to look behind him. He catches something pink dart around the corner, a flash of dark hair, a puff of steam trailing across the floor. Confused, he slowly turns back to Izuku to find him red faced and squiggle mouthed, looking anywhere but him.

“Oh...kay…” Shouto says, and it sounds like a question.

“Uh.”

“Do you… need to be somewhere?”

“No!” Izuku jolts, bringing his gaze back. “No, I just, uhm. Here, come in, please.” Shouto is lead by his sleeve into the room, All Might beaming down at them from every wall, but his attention is on the boy in front of him playing with his hoodie’s zipper. “Can I…I was wondering if you’d let me...” he’s panting with stress, Shouto realizes with alarm, and makes an aborted movement to reach out to him.

“Can I tell you something? Like, like a compliment…?”

Shouto is momentarily stunned.

“You want to compliment me?” Izuku nods. “And you're… asking my permission?” Another nod, Izuku twists his hands through his sleeves. “Uhm. I suppose-”

“You’re really pretty!” Izuku blurts out, then covers his mouth with his hands. “I mean,” he squeaks through his fingers. “I mean you’re handsome. I’m sorry- I just wanted to tell you that, uhm, you look nice today?”

Shouto blinks.

“I-your shirt is, long sleeves look really nice on you, I mean you have nice arms! I just, admire your form- oh god stop, that’s enough- ”

As subtle as he can, he moves his left hand behind his back and smothers the tickling tongues of fire that lick his fingers.

“Are you alright?” He asks as carefully as he can with his temperature rising dangerously.

“I’m,” Izuku wheezes, staggering a bit on his feet. “I’m- no. No I’m not okay.” He buries his face in his hands and groans, ears red. They’re still just standing in the middle of the room, and Izuku is looking pale, so Shouto take a moment to regulate the heat radiating from his left before gently running a hand down Izuku’s hard arm to squeeze his elbow and pulls him gently over to his bed.

Izuku plops down and sinks his head into his hands. Shouto sits at the edge of the bed to keep an eye on him.

“I’m sorry, Shouto, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t.” He’s not sure what he’s feeling, other than hot, cold, maybe having a heart attack, but he’s not… uncomfortable would be the wrong word.

Izuku is doubled over on his bed, elbows against his knees, and Shouto recalls the soothing circles Izuku rubs into his back sometimes. It makes him hot all over, but he rests his right hand on the small of his back and traces shapes with his fingers until Izuku starts breathing normally. Finally, he looks up at him, and he looks so tired that Shouto wants to tuck him under the covers immediately.

“Can you just forget that?” Izuku sighs.

He regrets it. He didn't mean it. Izuku is only trying to be nice and he'd let it affect him.

He can feel his stomach drop, blood draining from his face. In his chest somewhere there’s a puppy being kicked and wondering what it did wrong. He does his best to shut it away.

He schools his face and nods tersely. “Of course.”

Izuku makes a low sound in his throat and puts his hand on Shouto’s knee, sending a trail of silvery heat up his leg. “No, don’t… don’t forget what I said, I meant it.” His breath catches in his throat. Shouto’s heart perks up and sits pretty, tail wagging. Too easy. He’s too easy. “Just… can you forget how I said it? Cause that was,” he chuckles self deprecatingly. “That was embarrassing.”

Oh.

Shouto nods again, slower, and resists the urge to bounce his leg on the off chance that Izuku took that to mean that he wanted him to move his hand. Izuku’s hand could stay on any part of him permanently and he’s sure he wouldn’t mind. The image of a puppy trailing after its person makes him want to laugh, or maybe scream because he should know better by now. He can’t help it, though. Izuku brings down all of his walls as though they’re made of sand, and he’s defenseless. He can scarcely even keep his own thoughts in his head, which might be why he asks instead of brooding.

“Why… what were you trying to say, with the,” what does he even call that? “...Flattery,” he finishes flatly.

“Oh,” Izuku says, soft and shy. “I just wanted to tell you, I guess. I-in case you didn’t know. Because you are,” Izuku breathes deeply and meets his eyes with intensity that makes his blood sing. “Beautiful, I mean. I don’t think I said that, but… you are.”

Oh fuck.

“Move your hand,” Shouto chokes out, standing abruptly as wildfire breaks across his skin on one side while the other frosts over simultaneously. He puts as much distance as he dares between them, not wanting to set any part of his room on fire. He doubts Izuku would forgive him if he melted one of his All Might figures, even if he did just call him beautiful.

He called me beautiful.

“Shouto!” Izuku stands but Shouto throws his arm out to keep him from coming closer.

“Uh,” he says with eloquence. “Just give me a minute.”

He leaves a puddle of melted ice on Izuku’s carpet, as well as a small scorch mark on the ceiling before he calms down enough to control his quirk. Shouto closes his eyes against the shame. Unable to control his quirk- he isn’t a toddler anymore. Endeavor would have dragged him into the training room by his hair with a display like that.

“S-Shouto... “ Izuku reaches for him, but he instinctively flinches away from it. He feels awful immediately, Izuku would never hurt him that way and he deserves his trust, why does he feel like his body is not in his control?

“Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Shouto,” Izuku says again, softer. “Shouto can you look at me?”

He tries, he really tries, but he can’t lift his eyes past Izuku’s hood where it sits on his shoulders, suddenly and bizarrely afraid to look at his friend. Beautiful, Izuku says in his head. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

You’re the one that’s beautiful.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he’s talking in his soothing voice, the one he uses in the kitchen at night when Shouto is in a particularly bad mood. It’s a special kind of soothing, no hard edges, all sweet and lilting tones, and it goes on and on about nothing until Shouto finds his way back to earth.

Shouto takes a ragged breath and looks down at himself. His shirt is half charred and half clinging to him in wet clumps. He sighs long and deep, “I’m back, Izuku. I’m sorry-” he begins, but Izuku is having none of it.

“Don’t apologize,” he says firmly. “It was my fault. I knew better, I just…” he trails off while digging through his dresser, knocking his forehead against the drawer in self admonishment. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry about your shirt, Shouchan,” the nickname sends his heart aflutter again. From fire and ice to a puddle of messy feelings. He feels like he’s got whiplash. He’s going to die like this, back and forth and twisted into knots. “It might not be a perfect fit for you, I think your torso is longer than mine, but here,” Izuku says, and hands him a shirt that says SMASH.

Resigned, he pulls off his ruined shirt and slips into the new one. He tugs it down over his head, it’s not a perfect fit, loose in the shoulders and the hem rides a little high. The gap between the shirt and his pants expose the tops of his hip bones, and he’s not body shy, not really, but Izuku is looking right at the hem line with thinly veiled emotion and he feels exposed.

Back and forth, stomach knots, puppy heart, imminent death.

Shouto clears his throat and Izuku’s eyes jump back up to his. That didn’t seem very platonic, he catches himself thinking.

“Thanks for the shirt,” he says awkwardly.

“N-no problem! It was my bad in the first place.”

“No, it’s… fine. I should have better control. I overreacted,” Shouto feels distinctly shy when he admits quietly, “No one’s ever called me that before.”

“That’s a shame,” Izuku says like he really thinks it is, like he believes it, and Shouto can’t help but hope- “You really are,” and he’s looking at him again, eyes burning into his before dipping down to trace his hip bones and he feels heat curl in his gut. That… is definitely not a friend thing, is it?

“I’m still sorry, though.” Shouto smiles at the small pout he wears.  

“Don’t be. I…it’s nice. Thank you,” Shouto swallows his heart. “You… I also think that you’re… an excellent friend.”

Izuku gives him a look that says far too much for how brief it is. It’s blushing and shy, daring and wise, beautiful.

And confusing.

“I know.”

Well. That happened.

Shouto just wants to be alone for a while, but sitting in the large tree behind the dorm building with Tokoyami is almost as good. He appreciates their casual silence and uses his time to think over the odd events of the week. He may also spend a bit of time staring at the picture of Izuku on his phone.

It’s just that, with the way Izuku has been acting… it’s hard not to get his hopes up. He’s not extremely adept at friendly interactions, but he’s not a complete fool either. He can tell when there’s a hidden meaning behind an action or a phrase, even if he doesn’t always get it right away.

No one has ever kissed his hand. Like a princely greeting of old or a suitor come to call for him. It seems impossible that anyone could like him that way, especially Izuku who shines like a supernova and brings out the very best in the people around him.

No one has ever called him beautiful, as though his body is more than a weapon. He's never been picked up and spun around like a child, never been cradled in someone's arms.

The way Izuku’s eyes roved over him, there was no mistaking the heat in that. The facts are staring him in the face, hard to ignore but harder to accept.

And even if Izuku did like him back, what could he possibly do about it?

It’s ridiculous, but the possibility licks at his ribs with hot tongues of flame and something that feels a little like love and lot like nausea.

“May I suggest a written confession?” Tokoyami’s voice floats through the rustling leaves. He raises a feathered brow at his confused expression. “I find it easier to be candid on paper.”

“.....Thanks.” He doesn’t need to ask how Tokoyami knew about his predicament. At this point it was safe to assume it was written all over his face. His stomach turns at the thought of being so transparent.

Tokoyami gives him a regal nod and gracefully lowers himself to the ground, raises a hand in cool dismissal as he leaves.

The sky is looking grayer and grayer, the wind picking up in the branches around him. Hadn’t he overheard someone mention a summer storm? Shouto thinks that he should probably head inside as well, but remembers that he left a scorch mark on Izuku’s ceiling and decides he can do with more time alone.

He has to do something about this, right? Asking his mother for advice is tempting, but her own trauma stemmed from a destructive marriage, and the last thing he wants is to upset her. Fuyumi might help, she’s had boyfriends in the past. But somehow that was more embarrassing.

He’ll ask Kirishima and Yaomomo. They’ve helped him with every other aspect of his pining so far, surely they would be able to guide him in the right direction.

Later.

Shouto rests his eyes and lets his head fall back against the trunk of the tree.

He wakes to the wet plop of rain. His nose twitches as a bead of water slides down. His eyes flutter open when a drop catches in his eyelashes. The wind has picked up into something wicked, howling through the leaves around him and threatening to push him right out of the tree. How long was he sleeping? He tightens his grip on the branch beneath him as the spattering of rain increases until it’s pouring. Shouto slips down as carefully as he can with water rushing down the deep ravines of the bark around his hands

His feet skid in the mud when he meets the earth, and he stumbles forward with his momentum. He squints against the wind, the dorm building is barely visible in front of him, sheets of rain falling in quick succession. He pushes his hair back from where it sticks to his forehead and trudges forward. His shoes make wet suction noises as he unsticks them from the mud with every step, and he’s so preoccupied watching his step and blinking away the water as it runs down his face that he almost doesn’t hear the voice shouting over the thrum of rain slapping the wet ground.

Izuku stumbles over. “Shouto!” He’s completely drenched, wind whipping his drooping curls around his face and Shouto feels his gut clench because it’s pouring and Izuku is wearing shorts and a t shirt and he’s as pale as he’s ever seen him.

“Izuku!” he growls when he’s close enough to hear over the roaring rain. “What are you doing out here in the rain, go inside!” Izuku gives him a guilty grin as Shouto steers him back to the dorm building with his hands on his shoulders.

“I was looking for you! Tokoyami-kun mentioned that you were out here last he saw, and I didn’t want you to get caught in this storm!”

“So you came out here yourself?” he tightens his grip on the boy’s solid shoulders and pushes him the last few steps under the overhang of the building. Water runs in rivers over the concrete where it floods over from the mud, and there are streams falling down over every side of the overhang like curtains of water separating them from the storm, a gray bubble of relief as they wring the worst of the dampness from their clothes. An unseasonably frigid wind makes the waterfalls into wavering trails and a fine mist blows into his face. Shouto shakes the water from his hair as best he can and checks on Izuku, who is wringing out his shirt with shaking hands. Water drips from his hair in a crooked line that seems to connect the freckles on his neck into some unnamed constellation, but it only brings his attention to how clear the speckled marks are against the white of his skin. He can see the fine tremor in his body and feels his chest rumble in a disapproving growl.

Izuku startles when Shouto grabs his hand firmly in his left and tugs him into the building, but Shouto doesn’t slow or stop even as they track mud through the halls. Izuku’s fingers are like ice in his.

“My room is closer,” he says by way of explanation, and pulls him into his dorm. They both struggle out of their muddy shoes at the door and drip water over his tatami mats the whole way in.

Shouto grabs an armful of towels from the adjoined bathroom and drops them onto his bed, throwing one at Izuku. “Dry off. You can borrow clothes.” He doesn’t mean to sound so curt, but he sees Izuku’s spine stiffen anyway as he rifles through his clothes. He watches from the corner of his eye as Izuku towels off, rubbing at his hair with trembling fingers and it shouldn’t affect him this much but he’s… He doesn’t like seeing the boy look so much like a wet kitten, helpless and cold, and -

“Shouchan,” Izuku calls quietly, snapping him from his thoughts. Shouto picks up a pair of boxers and the softest pajamas he can find in his drawer. He hands them to Izuku and pushes him gently into the bathroom to change.

“You can leave your wet clothes in the tub.”

Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose and steams away most of the water until his room grows humid. Get ahold of yourself.

When Izuku comes out, he slides past him into the bathroom. The wet cloth sticks to his skin as he peels them off and plops them into the tub where Izuku’s clothes sit. He folded his wet clothes, Shouto shakes his head. He towels off one more time before stepping into his sweats.

In his room, Izuku stands stiffly, twisting a towel in his hands and looking at the door like he’s not sure if he should leave or not. He jolts when Shouto walks out.

“Shouchan, I’m sorr-”

“Don’t be,” Shouto interjects as kindly as he can. He didn’t mean to make the boy so nervous, he just… “You didn't do anything wrong. I was… worried.” He still is worried. Despite drying off, the color has yet to return to Izuku’s cheeks and he can hear the faint chatter of his teeth. It seems ridiculous that someone so strong is so weak to the cold. 

“Worried?” Izuku asks, tension dropping from his quivering shoulders.

Shouto breathes through his nose and nods. “You’re cold,” he starts forward, but hesitates to close the distance between them. Izuku’s eyes catch his. “You shouldn’t have gone out in this weather.”

“You sound like a mother hen,” Izuku smiles sweetly with colorless lips. “And I was only out there because I was looking for you.”

And that’s what really twists in his gut. “You shouldn’t have.”

I’m not worth that.

“I wanted to.”

Yes you are , Izuku’s eyes tell him.

Shouto swallows thickly and summons the courage to reach out and grab Izuku’s cold hand again, bringing them closer together. He closes his eyes and focuses closely on his temperature. Hot, but not too hot, he warms the air between them and runs his left hand up Izuku’s arm. The other boy sags against him until they’re almost hugging, chest to chest, Izuku’s damp hair tickling Shouto’s chin.

Shouto slowly moves his hand to press against the small of his back, tracing his spine with his thumb. Izuku shivers under his touch and leans in closer, his forehead falling forward onto Shouto’s shoulder.

“Can I put my arms around you, Shouto?” Izuku’s voice is a barely audible whisper against his neck. Shouto nods into his green curls, and his heart slams into his chest when strong arms snake around his middle, latching together in a tight embrace.

Shouto wraps his right arm around Izuku’s shoulders, his arm brushing something slightly plasticy feeling. He frowns and traces them across Izuku’s shoulder blades. Cat-itude, it spells in english. He huffs a tiny laugh into Izuku’s hair.

The boy in his arms hums in question, pressing his nose into Shouto’s neck and making his breath catch on his laughter.

“The pajamas you’re wearing,” he says quietly. “They’re the cat pajamas you picked for me.”

He feels Izuku’s smile against his collarbone, and he comes dangerously close to too hot before reigning it in.

“Does that mean I have a paw print on my butt?” Shouto’s heart stutters in his chest.

Izuku laughs and tightens his hold around his waist, squeezing like a real hug.

He seems to be getting heavier in Shouto’s arms the longer they stand like this, leaning further into him. He takes a deep breath and centers himself before stepping back and wrapping an arm under Izuku’s knees to pull him up into his arms. Izuku lets out a startled sound, eyes snapping open and looking at Shouto with shock.

“What? You can carry me, but I’m not allowed to pick you up?” he grumbles quietly, but watches Izuku’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Green eyes blink at him, he shakes his head, nods, “No! Or- yes! I don’t- it’s okay.”

Shouto gives a small nod and adjusts his grip. Izuku is shorter than him, but they probably weigh about the same with muscle mass taken into account. That being said, Shouto isn’t exactly weak, and carries him with relative ease over to his bed. He sits with his back against the wall and keeps the boy in his lap. Izuku is half facing him, sitting between Shouto’s legs with his own draped over his left thigh. If he minds being cradled this way, he doesn’t mention it, so Shouto lets his head fall back against the wall and focuses on keeping his body temperature steady so Izuku can soak up the heat.

“You’re getting really good at this,” Izuku mumbles into his shoulder, and his ear is chilly where it presses against his skin but warming slowly. “This is a good temperature.”

Shouto hums low in his throat, electing not to mention how badly his left side wants to be on fire or how his right hand is tickling with the itch to frost over. “I don’t want to have to worry about accidentally cooking you every time you’re cold.”

He can feel Izuku laugh. “Every time, huh?”

“I assume you don’t have any other human heaters at your disposal.”

Izuku presses his smile into Shouto’s neck, and he feels electricity race across his skin. “Just you.”

They sit together until Izuku stops shivering, then a while longer. Shouto is struck by the intimacy of this and thinks again that this is nothing like his friendship with Kirishima, or Yaomomo, or any of their classmates. He’s never seen Izuku sit this way with anyone else, never seen him press gentle kisses into anyone else’s hand... Shouto’s arms tighten around him unconsciously. Whatever it is they have, it’s different.

“Hey, Shouto…?” He rubs his thumb over Izuku’s arm to show he’s listening. “There’s something I want to tell you…”

He hopes it’s not another compliment, he’s not sure he could take it.

Izuku turns his head a bit to rub his nose under Shouto’s ear, lips grazing his neck. “I’m sorry, Shouchan. I’ve been keeping secrets.” Shouto holds on for dear life. He can feel Izuku’s hand shake as he winds it into his hair, a firm but gentle hold that makes him feel like a child being soothed, and Shouto’s thoughts are racing but his mind is blank, he’s so confused, he doesn’t understand the building feeling of elation until Izuku presses his lips against his neck, a kiss, a brand, a promise.

The room is filling with snow.

He lifts his head up to face him and Shouto looks down at him with something between terror and excitement. And then Izuku looks up at him through his lashes, eyes wide and shining with something hopeful and vulnerable and Shouto is held captive as Izuku leans forward, slowly, giving him plenty of time to back away. His eyes are dark green and flashing as they dart down to his lips, then back up to meet his.

Shouto’s breath comes out in an icey mist and his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. He’s….

Izuku’s body shivers in his grasp and Shouto is trembling right along with him because Izuku is in his lap and Izuku is leaning in and Izuku is looking at him with emotion and Shouto’s entire body feels hot, cold, numb, electric.

Izuku’s eyes flutter shut just seconds before his soft lips brush the corner of his mouth, a barely there kiss.

He kissed me…

Shouto feels his face go slightly numb as Izuku pulls away and there’s color in his cheeks and the beginnings of tears in his green eyes. He thinks about brushing them away, but can’t move his hand. He can’t move at all. His lips tingle and he’s too hot, too cold, shaking apart at the seams.

Shouto’s heart flutters in his chest, and the moisture in the air is becoming snow, fat fluffy flakes falling into Izuku’s hair and flicking off his eyelashes and it should look absurd but it just makes him more ethereal.

He kissed me.

He’s supposed to be warming him up, he remembers dazedly through the fog of oh my god cycling through his head, he’s supposed to be warm but it’s freezing cold and snowing in his room. Shouto pulls Izuku against him again, holding him tighter than he probably should but Izuku is petting his hair gently and he can feel the boy’s pulse jump from where his face is pressed into his neck.

Shouto takes a ragged breath and tries to remember how his quirk works as he buries his face into Izuku’s hair, snowflakes melting against his skin. He kissed me...

He’s supposed to be warming the smaller boy, but it feels like Izuku is the one holding him. Izuku has one arm wrapped around his shoulders and one around his waist. Shouto can feel his control slipping as his body trembles, overwhelmed, but Izuku doesn’t seem bothered by the fluctuating temperature.

He kissed me… right?

Izuku grins at him with blue lips, teeth chattering, and Shouto balks at the tears streaming from his eyes but his vision is swimming, too. Some hysterical part of him wants to laugh, but it comes out as a choked sob. “Izuku, can I... can I touch you…?”

Izuku nods shyly and Shouto brings his hands up to hold his face, thumbs stroking the freckles on his cheeks.

The touch is familiar and fond, but charged now with something that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The pieces fall into place and Shouto looks with open wonder into his eyes where the tiny pricks of starlight are shining bright for him, and he knows it now, how could he have ever thought otherwise when Izuku looks at him this, with so much warmth...

Izuku’s smile turns wobbly before he leans in, pressing their foreheads together. Shouto’s heart is in his mouth.

“What does this mean…” his voice cracks over the question, but he needs to know. He needs to hear it because he's never been that lucky.

Izuku’s sigh shudders against his lips and Shouto’s right hand is covered in frost where it sits on the bed next to Izuku’s hip. “It means… I’ve been trying to woo you all week,” he admits. “Because I like you, Shouchan,” he gives a watery laugh. “I really, really like you.”

The smile that splits his face is almost painful, and his heart aches with the tenderness of that statement.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he admits, nose brushing against the freckles on his face. Their breaths mingle between them, and he thinks for a moment that maybe he does know what to do, because Izuku’s lips are a fraction of an inch away and he wants…

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he slowly brings his face closer. Just barely, he feels Izuku’s lips brush his, tingling heat zips up his spine and it’s so good but before he can lean in and press them together more firmly, he feels the heat spark and jerks back so fast that the back of his head cracks against the wall behind him as fire flashes across his left cheek.

Izuku blinks at him with wide eyes, and he doesn’t seem to understand that he was almost burned to a crisp because he’s laughing and Shouto has never felt so embarrassed.

He groans and rubs the back of his head, subtly pushing Izuku back with his other hand because he’s still too close and he’s not nearly as worried as he should be with his face inches away from the open flame that is Shouto’s head.

“Ahh, that’s warm,” he says and brings his hand up to heat his fingers. Shouto looks at him like he’s crazy and Izuku breaks off into giggles, grabbing a handful of the rapidly melting flakes from the bed. “Sorry, I mean... You made it snow  Shouchan! I didn’t know that was possible. I knew you could create ice without water but this is- I mean have you ever- could it be the humidity or- ” Izuku stems the flow of his tears with the heel of his palm, but he’s still letting out little hiccuping laughs.

At least he’s not the only one feeling a little hysterical, Shouto thinks and lets himself smile a little as the flames subside. He feels like his head is underwater.

“Is,” Izuku sniffles and looks over at him with a watery smile. “Is hugging okay?”

Shouto’s heart clenches. “Yeah.”

Izuku crawls over and settles himself in his arms and Shouto holds him too tight again. The sudden temperature changes have left him lightheaded and disoriented, so he feels the need to check.

“Izuku,” he says lowly into his neck. “Is this real?”

“I really hope so,” he sighs. “Or else those lessons in seduction were for nothing.”

Shouto’s brain short circuits. Something Kirishima said floats through the haze in his mind. It seems like years ago, but it was just earlier this week.

“Then… Did you really ask Kirishima to teach you how to strip?”

Izuku goes rigid in his arms. “You weren’t supposed to know about that!” His face is red and panicked and so utterly adorable that Shouto can’t help but smile.

“Looks like we both owe him, then.”

Izuku blushes hard and hides his pout in Shouto’s neck and in his head he hears him say I like you… I really like you…

His pulse is racing as he nuzzles his face into Izuku’s hair, neck, shoulder, until the boy squeaks that it’s ticklish and squirms away. Shouto won’t let go, though, he’s never going to let go ever again, and tightens his arms around the solid middle of his friend…

Friend?

Well. They can sort that out later. For now, Izuku likes him, and he’s been in love since the first time he’d seen him drinking tea in the middle of the night wearing his hoodie. Maybe even longer than that. If he’s being honest, he’s been a little in love with him since the sports festival.

The two of them flop over to the side in the struggle so that they lay curled around each other, Izuku’s foot hooks around his calves and he jolts at the shock of cold toes against his skin where his pants have ridden up. He growls playfully into Izuku’s ear and delights in his fiendish giggle.

Foreheads pressed together, sharing the same air, Shouto lets himself breathe everything in. He has questions. A lot of questions. And a few concerns. But none of that can touch the high he’s riding now, not even the slightly congested feeling in his nose.

“Izuku.” The boy hums into his chest. “I really like you too.”

Shouto punctuates his confession with a sneeze that makes Izuku snort.

Kirishima plans to turn in early that night, the sound of rain against the windows of the common room is putting him to sleep and he's honestly exhausted after watching his friends chase each other in circles all week. He hopes, god he hopes, that they figure it out soon because it really makes his heart hurt to see them come so close to something so special.

He heaves an exaggerated sigh when he gets to his dorm and face plants into the pillows. It's been a long day, and he hadn't even been able to hang out with Bakugou. So what if he was pouting a little?

He shifts to get comfortable, and feels something lumpy under his stomach. He grumbles a little to himself and rolls over to find a slightly crumpled folded hoodie.

"Huh?" 

It looks brand new, red with a black hood and pockets - it's pretty rad actually. Kirishima shakes it out and a folded note falls out onto the floor.

'Give it a shot!' it reads.