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It starts on a November night, buried deep in the semester of their second year. It's freezing — the kind of cold that seeps past any layer of clothing, the kind of crisp air that crackles around you and makes you long for a space heater, or a blowtorch, or maybe the ability to light yourself on fire without injury.
Luckily for him, Shouto has that ability.
The evening has stretched on long past the homework due Monday, through the hills of conversations about school and the weekend, and through the valleys and canyons of plans that everybody has, splintering off like rivers do as they stretch towards the sea as the group of friends realize none of their plans can really include each other. But that doesn't mean that now their plans can't include friends – and that means cuddling as physically close to Shouto's left side as possible.
Uraraka and Midoriya have taken residence glued to Shouto's side on the couch, leaning their backs on him so they can share the heat. Tsuyu has pressed the side of her body up against his leg on the floor, and even Iida has shuffled a little closer, almost leaning back against the couch between Shouto's legs. Shouto doesn't really mind – it kind of feels like being with Fuyumi and Nastuo. Ever since he's been allowed to hang out with them again, he's found they're both rather touchy-feely. And Shouto... he likes it.
But he's not going to tell his friends that — he's just going to open his left arm as Uraraka and Midoriya both shiver visibly under a couple blankets and smile to himself as they immediately trip over themselves to fall into his side like little kids to ice cream.
The night wears on, the moon rising in the sky and washing the room in cool light, contrasted with the warm glow from the TV, from the smiles of his classmates. And as it does, one by one the voices start to disappear, heading off to bed in Iida’s case, or falling asleep in the place they've settled in, Uraraka slumping down to the couch, Tsuyu dropping her head to her own chest in a way that's gonna give her some wicked neck-ache when she wakes up.
Soon enough it's just Shouto and Midoriya, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder now, sharing quiet words, trying not to wake up their classmates. On one of the other couches, Ashido has fallen asleep on Kirishima, who has fallen asleep on Bakugou, who is anger-scrolling on his phone, pretending that he's frustrated about his friends falling asleep on him. Shouto knows better than that, Bakugou would have left long ago if he actually cared. He also knows better than to point this out to the loud-mouthed blond.
It feels like a safe place, like the dimmed lights and the quiet snores in the room have turned this into a little bubble of good, like Shouto could say anything here and not have to worry about the consequences.
“I'll probably just study, and head to the gym,” Midoriya murmurs, letting out a content little sigh and leaning his head on Shouto's warm shoulder. “My mom has that meeting, so she won't be home this weekend. Plus, I don't really want to pay the train fare if I don't have to.”
“You could just walk – er, uh, jump,” Shouto suggests, suppressing the urge to shrug, as to not jostle Midoriya's head off of his shoulder. “Good for the muscles – for the quirk.”
Midoriya hums, slumping down a little, and Shouto flares his quirk just a little. The green-haired boy sighs again, a smile in his voice as he says, “I could do that. But she won't even be home, I don't know why I'd bother...”
“Are you going to sleep?”
“No, I like talking to you, Todoroki-kun.”
Shouto hums. He likes talking to Midoriya, too. A lot of the others don't really get him when he talks – he thinks they don't get when he's joking and when he's not. Though he's not sure if they can be blamed for that, he's never been great at changing his expression or his tone when he does so. But Midoriya always seems to get it.
“You didn't say anything about your weekend plans,” Midoriya notes, tilting his head back a little to look up at Shouto. “Do you want to go to the gym with me?”
The familiar annoyance spikes through him, thinking about the weekend. “I can't,” he grumbles. “I have to go to this... this stupid family thing.”
“Family thing?” Midoriya prompts gently. Shouto likes that about him. He never pushes, and Shouto knows that if he doesn't want to tell him, Midoriya won't be mad about it. But still, there are few things that Shouto finds himself not wanting to tell the green-haired boy.
He drops his head back to the back of the couch, blowing air up to muss his own bangs. “Some dinner or whatever,” he explains. “My old man is having guests over, told me I have to be there, and I have to be on my best behavior. I wanna tell him to stick his behavior where the sun don't shine. I don't want to go.”
“But you have to?”
“But I have to,” Shouto sighs.
“Ah,” Midoriya says quietly. “Would it help to... to have somebody there?”
“It's kind of a family thing,” Shouto mumbles back. He'd kill to have somebody there, but he's sure that if he invites somebody, his dad will shut him down before he even gets through the door.
It's quiet for a moment before Midoriya murmurs, “What if I came?”
This makes Shouto pause, staring up at the ceiling, frowning. Midoriya shifts next to him, like he's uncomfortable, and immediately tries to explain himself. “I mean! Well, I mean it'd be nice for you because then you'd have somebody there and I uh... I want to be like family I guess? And plus um,” he chuckles nervously, somehow fitting it in while muttering so fast Shouto struggles to keep up, “it would piss your dad off right? And that's uh, that's what you want. And if I come in right as it's starting he won't be able to tell me to leave without making a scene and we can-”
“Yeah,” Shouto interrupts him before he can talk himself to an aneurysm. “You're onto something here. Who better than All Might's secret love child, that'll piss him off so much,” he muses.
“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya giggles, “you know I'm not-”
“I know,” Shouto waves him off. “But you know what I mean. He doesn't like you, not since the first year sports festival,” Shouto says, and then he smiles to himself. “But I do. I like you. You'll make it so much better.”
The boy at his side mumbles something that Shouto doesn't quite catch, and he dips his quirk a little. Shouto realizes that Midoriya feels pretty warm himself, Shouto must have stopped thinking about his quirk and made it a little too hot.
“It's Saturday night,” Shouto continues. “Do you want to take the train with me?”
Sounding like he's got a huge smile, Midoriya nods against his shoulder. “I'd like that, Todoroki-kun.”
“Okay,” Shouto lets out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding, glad to have some kind of support for this. The evening seems less daunting now that he knows that he'll have Midoriya by his side. “I'd like that too.”
They pull it off without a hitch, really.
Shouto and Midoriya show up just after all of Endeavor's guests do, and Shouto can see the frustration at Midoriya being there burning behind his eyes, but he can't say anything with all of their guests there. Shouto just meets his eyes, cold, blank, like the rigid ice of his right side, until his old man turns away to speak to their guests.
And it's better, it's so much better, to have Midoriya there, to be able to lean over to him and whisper a joke about one of the stupid guests, to hear him try to smother snickers and hiss back “Todoroki-kun that's not very polite.”
To have someone at his side as he holds a cup of juice and suffers his way through conversations with these old people – he's pretty sure he should care about them liking him, it would probably help him in the long run, but it's so hard to care when his dad wants him to so badly. But Midoriya is pretty good at talking to people, so Shouto can use him as a crutch in small talk conversations.
“Yes,” Midoriya says, face arranged politely, just inches from Shouto's side. “I'm also training to be a hero! It's an honor to be training under so many amazing pros, to be learning with so many other strong students. Like Todoroki.”
Endeavor turns from the conversation that he had been engaged in, just behind the two people that Shouto and Midoriya have been talking to. “Sorry,” one of them says to Midoriya, before Shouto's father can say anything. “Remind me why you're here again? Not to be rude, just wondering.”
Shouto opens his mouth to respond, to tell them that he's Shouto's plus one, someone his own age to have along, but he pauses, surprised, as he feels fingers curl into the spaces between his own at his side. “Oh,” Midoriya says, voice squeaking a little, and as Shouto turns to look at him, he notes that the green-haired boy's face is quite red. “We're dating, actually!”
Shouto presses his mouth into a line to fight the laugh that threatens to escape, eyes flicking to his father. Oh man, he thinks, watching the five stages of grief flicker through the old man's eyes. Oh I didn't know he meant fake dating.
But it's too late to say anything, and besides, the look on Endeavor's face is hilarious, and Shouto fights the urge to say suck it old man, instead giving a small smile, squeezing Midoriya's hand. “That's right,” he agrees.
“Oh!” the woman says, a smile hitting her face. “That's so sweet! You two must like each other a whole lot.”
“We do,” Midoriya confirms, and the couple gives them big smiles.
“It's very progressive of you,” the man that's with the woman says, turning to Endeavor. “It's good to see that you're accepting of your son.”
Shouto bites down hard on his own tongue to fight the laugh that really really wants to burst free like a jack-in-the-box wound to the last note, watching the expression on his dad's face waver. “Yes,” the man says, obviously strained, clearly grinding his teeth. “Yes, I shall support my son no matter who he chooses to date.”
Squeezing Midoriya's hand, Shouto takes the longest, slowest breath that he can to keep himself from laughing at the visible sweat on his old man's face, at the vein popping up on his forehead. Midoriya squeezes back, and Shouto can see that the shorter boy is looking up at his father as well. Endeavor stares back at them, and Shouto can see that no matter how angry he is about this, he knows how good it is for his image, he knows that there's nothing he can say about it. So instead he forces a smile that makes Shouto want to kiss Midoriya on the mouth. A genius. He's a genius.
“I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to tell everyone,” he says, just on the edge of pained, and Shouto has to get out of there or he's going to ruin the whole thing by laughing.
“Yes,” he responds, and then tugs a little on Midoriya's hand. “Let's go get something to eat?”
Midoriya hums an agreement, and Shouto tows him away by their interlocked hands, biting on the inside of his cheek to hold in the laugh, until they step out of the building into the cold night air. Only then does he let go of the lock on his jaw, letting the laugh break free as the door clicks shut behind them, squeezing Midoriya's hand to death as he wheezes out an ugly laugh.
Midoriya laughs too, leaning onto Shouto as the taller teen presses his cold hand into his flushed cheeks, the cold air and the cold digits biting into the heat of his blush. He can't remember the last time he laughed this hard. “Did you see his face,” Shouto manages, trying to catch his breath, losing it again as he remembers the way Endeavor actually struggled to keep himself from catching fire. “Did you see his face?”
“I saw it, I saw it,” Midoriya giggles, dropping his forehead to Shouto's shoulder, and Shouto lets go of his hand in favor of wrapping an arm around his shoulders to laugh with him. Midoriya's got a blush high in his cheeks too, lights in his teary eyes from laughing so hard. “I thought he was going to explode.”
“Oh, he considered it,” Shouto chuckles, taking a few deep breaths to calm down, still shaking a little from aftershocks from the laughter. “Oh man. Oh, man.”
Midoriya smiles up at him, and it looks like he can't help it as he leans in to elbow Shouto's side gently. “I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much.”
“I don't know if I have,” Shouto admits, leaning back against the wall, still holding him around the shoulders, but now to stave off the cold of the night air, to be the heater that he always has been. “You've made tonight great, Midoriya.”
“You can call me Izuku,” he chuckles, and Shouto nods.
“And I know I've told you to call me Shouto before,” he says. Izuku ducks his head, still grinning.
“Shouto-kun,” Izuku murmurs, bumping his head against the arm around his shoulders. Shouto chuckles again, giving him a little squeeze.
“When's the last time I mentioned that you're a genius?” he asks, and Izuku chuckles again, tucking a little further into his side. “I never would have thought of that. You've made tonight the best. I never would have thought of pretending to date. You have the biggest brain, thank you.”
Izuku hides his face in Shouto's arm again, but he doesn't respond right away, and Shouto squeezes him a little once more. He flares his quirk, wondering if it's his imagination that there's less heat in Izuku's face. “Yeah,” Izuku murmurs, face still tucked, and there's something different about his voice.
Shouto doesn't push it, he's not really sure what to say anyways, he just holds his friend and breathes out into the quiet, chilly night. He's glad for the temperature regulation quirk, flaring his warm side again to heat Izuku up. He's not entirely sure why – maybe because Izuku has suddenly gone quieter than he had been and Shouto doesn't know the reason – but he wants to change the subject. He leans his head back, looking up at the house. “Do you want to see my room?” he asks. He's never had anybody here before. “I stole one of Endeavor's credit cards last week, we could go order a bunch of All Might merch online.”
Izuku chuckles a little, lifting his face, and Shouto smiles down at him. He doesn't seem as giggly as he had been, and there's something there that Shouto isn't sure he really understands, but he doesn't push it. “Yeah,” the shorter boy says. “There's a limited edition figurine I don't have yet that's super expensive.”
“Okay,” Shouto says, squeezing him once more before releasing him. “I don't want to go back into that stupid dinner anyways.”
Feeling lighter than he has in a long time, with his friend in tow, someone he trusts, Shouto heads up to spend some of his dad’s money.
It's Shouto who suggests it, the second time.
His father told him that he has to go to this stupid event, another 'best behavior' kind of thing. Shouto had looked him dead in the eyes and smiled, just a little bit.
“I'll be there,” he said, and had the satisfaction of watching his dad waver, just a little bit.
But he knows that his dad won't tell him not to bring Izuku, he's just going to have to suffer through it, and Shouto is going to enjoy every moment of the evening, of watching his father squirm.
So he goes to Izuku that night in the common room, taking the seat next to him, waiting for the green-haired boy to look up from his book, blinking. He keeps a finger on the page to hold his place. “Oh, hi Shouto-kun,” he says. “What's up?”
“Um,” Shouto says, wondering why he's suddenly nervous, “I have to go to this... event. I was wondering if you um... would be my plus one? If you know what I mean? Same arrangement that we... that we had before.”
Izuku blinks at him for a moment, before smiling, eyes squinting a little bit. “Sure, I think that would be fun.”
And it is fun, meandering through the room hand-in-hand with Izuku, the other hand in the pocket of his dress pants, leaning in to make fun of the party-goers so only his friend can hear. Izuku giggles at his jokes and sometimes makes his own, and sometimes mutters a whole lot of nonsense about people. Shouto hopes he never has to go toe-to-toe with Izuku in a battle of wits or words. Izuku could annihilate anybody he wanted to, picking them apart word by word and detail by detail. Shouto loves listening to him.
The end of the evening finds them seated at a table in the back corner of the room, leaning onto their arms on the fancy tablecloth, pushing a little fork-boat back and forth between them and just talking. Shouto feels so comfortable, so happy and content, just murmuring words and things about nothing, about class and about the world and about how Izuku wants to paint his room a soft blue color. “I could help with that,” Shouto offers, and Izuku smiles, one cheek squished up underneath his face against his arm.
“I'd like that, Shouto-kun,” Izuku says, smile so bright that Shouto might just go blind.
Oh, Shouto thinks to himself, his stomach tipping, tipping, and flopping over like someone failing to do a handstand. Oh, that's what this feeling is.
Izuku keeps right on smiling, and the fork-boat flops to the side like Shouto's stomach had as Shouto spirals away into the abyss, like he's being dragged down into the depths of the ocean, the deepest and darkest place, the only source of light Izuku's face, his freckles, like stars and constellations and galaxies shining through the water. Shouto can't breathe, not down here with all this water and all of this feeling pressing on him.
Oh son of a bitch, he thinks, dazed. I actually like him, don't I?
He feels like maybe he should have realized this before, as the pressure of the ocean presses on him, compacting his organs and pressing in on his ears, making everything fade away except Izuku. Maybe he should have known a long, long time ago, with a voice screamed from the stands of an arena, heat ripping through him as his fire flickers to life again.
“Hey,” Izuku is saying, the smile fading. Shouto blinks at him, the image of that smile pressed behind his eyelids, like sun-spots, when you look too long at the sky. “Hey, are you okay?”
Swallowing hard, Shouto gives a rather unconvincing nod, and bites the inside of his cheek as Izuku's eyebrows tent over his eyes in worry. “I'm fine,” he says, aiming for more convincing this time. “Really. I'm alright.”
And he is, he is okay, he just hadn't expected to be blindsided by his feelings at that moment, like somebody sneaking up with a baseball bat. He feels kind of winded, but he's freaking Izuku out. He's gotta get a handle on himself.
“If you're sure,” Izuku murmurs, but he doesn't sound like he believes Shouto. Shouto doesn't blame him – he wouldn't if their places were switched.
“Come on,” Shouto manages, blinking and pulling back a little bit. “Let’s go get something to drink?”
Izuku gives him another look that's laced with worry, but he doesn't argue, just offers his hand to Shouto. Nerves swirl in Shouto's stomach – though that's ridiculous, they've been doing this for a while already – and he takes it. It feels so good, even though it's fake. Just getting to hold Izuku's hand...
He squeezes Izuku's fingers a little bit, looking up to give Izuku a small smile. Izuku seems to relax a little bit. “Alright. Let's go.”
With a quirk like his, Shouto knows how dangerous it is to play with fire.
But still, he plays, he brings Izuku to more of these stupid events, these parties, these family functions. It's too easy, it feels too nice, and Shouto can't bring himself to stop. To pretend that maybe these times are real, it's more than just an effort to make his dad angry. Though, that is a plus. Getting to hold Izuku's hand, to wrap an arm around his shoulders, and getting to watch as his dad grinds his teeth? Score.
It's like a sucker punch to heart every night to return to the dorms, to let go of Izuku's hand and remember that it was just fake, to have his breath ripped from his lungs as Izuku smiles but pulls away, bids him goodnight and heads back into his room.
Shouto hates it, he can feel himself sinking deeper into this cold ocean trench, but he doesn't mind. Not as long as he can have this, just a little. As long as he can turn to Izuku as the shorter boy asks if he wants to head home, and ask quietly if maybe they could stay just a little longer.
He feels guilty about it sometimes, afraid he's manipulating his friend, or he's lying by omission. But what is he supposed to say? Sorry, I don't want to do this anymore because I would rather it be real! He doesn't imagine that would go great. He can just keep toeing this line, keep balancing on the edge of this precipice, keep playing with fire. He's okay – he knows fire – he won't get burned. He can manage this.
And then Natsuo ruins it all.
They're sitting outside, taking a break from the party inside, across from Natsuo and Fuyumi, leaned back on the edge of the deck. Izuku leans slightly into Shouto's warm side, and Shouto bumps his temperature up just a little, enough to keep him comfortable. Oh, how he wants to wrap his arm around the smaller boy, pull him in close, close, closer. To just hold him, and have it mean exactly what Shouto wants it to mean.
“I don't buy it.”
Shouto looks up, blinking, at Natsuo. His brother is watching them, eyes narrowed. “What don't you buy?” Shouto asks, immediately a little bit panicked. He had thought they were doing so well.
“There's something off about you two. Can't put my finger on why, but you two aren't actually dating, are you?”
Shouto feels Izuku go stock still at his side, and he starts to sweat a little. “What? Of course we are-”
“I've seen you hold hands like, a little,” Natsuo steamrolls right on. “But past that you never even hug, even when I see the two of you away from everybody else.”
“Shouto just isn't really into PDA,” Izuku says, and Shouto has to hand it to him, he sounds almost normal. Shouto can only barely pick up on the difference in his voice – there's no way that Natsuo will pick up on it, not since he doesn't know Izuku.
“That's a lie,” Natsuo retorts immediately. “Shouto is a clingy bastard. I've seen him in the middle of the night after a movie, making Fuyumi carry him to bed.”
Shouto is really sweating now, smile tight, unsure what to do. They could just man up and tell Natsuo and Fuyumi – it was to get back at dad, what could be a better excuse? They could just be in on the secret, right?
“We just,” Shouto swallows, “we thought PDA wouldn't be great at family functions. We're rubbing it in dad's face enough as it is.”
Snorting, Natsuo raises an unimpressed eyebrow at them. “Since when have you wanted to dial it back when rubbing stuff in dad's face?”
“Natsuo,” Fuyumi chides. “Leave them alone about it, they don't have to explain to us.”
“I just wanna know why,” Natsuo says, and Shouto flounders. He's going to have to tell them. That's okay, that's fine, they'll figure it out. Shouto swallows again, praying that this is going to go better than he expects it to. He's just opening his mouth to spill it, to tell them why, to admit that they're lying, when suddenly there's a sweaty palm on his cheek, and Izuku pulls hard, spinning his head towards him.
And then Izuku is kissing him.
Shouto's been shocked by Denki's quirk a couple of times in training, and he has a brief thought that this feels rather similar as his brain winks out, like he's short-circuiting. Izuku's lips are warm, and oh-so-soft, and surprisingly wet against his as Izuku grips onto his cheek for dear life, the other hand gripping Shouto's leg tight enough that Shouto might have bruises later.
Shouto passes through about ten different dimensions in the short amount of time that he's kissing Izuku, one hand floating up by its own accord to find the collar of Izuku's shirt and hold him steady. Heat flares on one side of his body and the other side threatens to frost over as he loses himself in just kissing Izuku for this minuscule amount of time, unable to think about normal things like relaxing his quirk or opening his eyes. Izuku tastes a little bit like cheesecake and apple cider and chapstick, but mostly overwhelmingly like spit. Shouto figures maybe he should have known, but he hadn't really expected kissing to just taste like, well, to just taste like mouth.
Still, Shouto distantly thinks that maybe, it might be his favorite taste.
Izuku pulls away after only a tiny moment, but Shouto really feels like a changed man. Maybe he's aged twenty years, or maybe he's being crushed at the bottom of the ocean again. He hovers there, just inches from Izuku's face, eyes caught on those lips, feeling a little out of breath. Oh, he wants to do that again. Oh man oh man he wants to do that again.
Izuku's face is bright red, and Shouto can't blame him, he's probably also warmed. Logically, Shouto knows that Izuku is probably just embarrassed to be kissing somebody in front of their siblings, and someone that he's not even dating, at that, but Shouto swallows, letting himself believe for just the shortest moment that it's because Izuku also feels the avalanche of a stomach that Shouto is currently experiencing.
“Okay fine, sorry I doubted you guys, bleh,” Natsuo says, sounding like he's sticking his tongue out. “That was gross, get a room.”
“Natsuo,” Fuyumi chides again, and Shouto pulls back, dragged back to the present, to reality. “You were the one that pushed them!”
“Could you blame me?” Natsuo demands, and they start to bicker back and forth. Shouto drags his eyes away from Izuku's, feeling a little nauseous now. Why did he do that? What are they doing? There's a sharp pain just below Shouto's esophagus, a little off to the side. What am I doing? He demands at himself. Are you masochistic? Are you an idiot?
Yeah, he answers himself as Izuku hesitantly threads his fingers between Shouto's, and the taller teen doesn't pull away. Definitely an idiot.
He can't. He can't. He can't stop this, he's just letting himself fall further and further into this hole, and there's no way he's going to be able to dig himself out. He registers Izuku leaning in a little bit, just hears the whisper.
“Are you okay?”
Shouto just nods, barely perceptible. He knows that it's in no way convincing, but he can come up with an excuse later, when they can actually talk. For now he wants to just relive that moment, that kiss, probably the only time he's going to be able to kiss Izuku. He wants to be able to pull away and see Izuku smile, he wants to pull away only to lean back in and kiss him again.
He can't have any of that. He knows that. But that doesn't stop him from wanting it. And he can have this short moment to daydream about it, holding Izuku's hand just for show, allowing himself to have these thoughts, just for now.
He feels bad brushing Izuku off when he asks him again if he's alright as they head back inside, but he can't do much besides float, stuck in this middle ground where he's just reliving kissing Izuku and feeling guilty about reliving it, wanting to do it again and knowing that he should never do that again.
He's so distracted that he doesn't really see it coming until Izuku has dragged him through a side door, into the hallway down to the dojo, letting the door close behind them, shutting off the party. Shouto blinks as Izuku pulls his hands away, his quirk flaring on both sides as he realizes that Izuku has him alone now, and he's got zero excuse as to why he's been being so weird. Oh no, he's not ready for this. Shit, why hadn't he expected this to happen? What's he supposed to do? He can't run away, not when Izuku is looking up at him with eyes that are almost tearful.
“Shit,” Izuku says, and Shouto blinks again, shocked. He's not actually sure if he's ever heard Izuku swear before. “I'm so sorry,” he starts, and Shouto freezes up completely, lost. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do and I didn't mean to let it get this far,” he explains, and Shouto stares down at him, eyes focused on how fast his mouth is moving. “And I just, I just, it's gone too far and it's out of hand and I'm so sorry, I was just caught up and I know I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't just let it keep going, I panicked, okay?”
Shouto knows what he's saying is important, but he feels like maybe he's passing into the other dimensions again, where colors blended into one singular shade of green and everything was warm and tasted like chapstick and Izuku.
“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Shouto, I don't want to screw up our friendship, okay, you know that our friendship is so important to me, right? You know that, right?” Shouto wonders if he's actually nodding or if the whole world is rocking a little, his resolve crumbling. He can't... he can't... stop himself... “Oh All Might,” Izuku curses, “can you please just say something? I feel like I screwed everything up and I can't stop thinking that-”
Shouto short-circuits again, but this time he's losing control of his body and jerking forward, dipping his head and catching Izuku's mouth with his own.
The momentum knocks them both back into the wall, Shouto accidentally pinning him there, against the cool wood. And it's just as goddamn good as it was the first time only this time it's better, Izuku all warm and soft up against him, the angle allowing Shouto to press their fronts together, allowing the use of both of Shouto's hands, coming up to cage Izuku's little face between them, allowing-
Oh, oh no, Izuku is not kissing him back.
Shouto breaks away as soon as he realizes, stumbling back a step, hands coming up like he's a villain, surrendering to the heroes. “Fuck,” he chokes out. “Holy shit, I'm sorry-”
Izuku's voice doesn't break a whisper as he stares up at Shouto, and Shouto wonders if it's too late to run. “Why did you do that,” Izuku asks, and Shouto wishes vainly for a meteor to crash down, or a natural disaster, or maybe for a villain attack.
“I'm sorry,” he manages, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry-”
There's a crackle in the hallway as Izuku steps forward and grabs Shouto by the front of the shirt, and Shouto holds his hands up to the sides like that's going to help as he sees Izuku's quirk activating. Oh All Might, what have I done, he wails inwardly as Izuku stares at him like he can see right into his soul. “Tell me why you did that,” Izuku demands. “Why did you kiss me, Todoroki Shouto? Why did you put your lips on mine, here where nobody can see us?”
Shouto is starting to sweat through his shirt just at the look in Izuku's eyes – he's seen this boy lift the fridge up with no help from his quirk without batting an eye – though he can't help but think that's it's... it's almost hot. He shuts that thought down as quickly as he can, swallowing his dry throat and choking out, “I wasn't thinking, I just couldn't stop thinking about it since you did it before, I've been so stupid, this was such a bad idea, I'm so sorry, Izuku, I'm so sorry-”
He cuts himself off at the look in Izuku's eyes, holy shit is he going to cry? Shouto made him cry? He wants to set his quirk off and burn the building down with himself inside it as Izuku's voice shrinks a little and he asks, “A bad idea?”
And well, everything is ruined anyways, isn't it? So what's the harm in spilling it all? Besides, any excuse that he'd be able to come up with would fall terrifically flat — he's always been a spectacularly terrible liar. So with his stomach melting and falling out his ass, Shouto forces out, “Well, I think I might have accidentally fallen in love with you, so this whole fake dating thing might not... be the best... idea...”
He trails off as Izuku's hair starts to shift with the wind created from his quirk, wondering if Izuku is going to obliterate him for being manipulative, and these are his last moments, here in this hallway. He probably wouldn't even fight back. He definitely wouldn't even fight back. “You idiot,” Izuku whispers, and Shouto is quick to nod his agreement.
“I know.”
“You idiot,” Izuku says again, louder this time, pushing him back, thumping Shouto's back against the wall.
“I know.”
“You idiot,” Izuku says and it's way too loud in the quiet hallway, but before Shouto can respond this time Izuku surges forward and kisses Shouto again, hands still gripped tight in Shouto's shirt, still crowding him up against the wall.
Shouto's brain decides that it's going to stop working then, and focus more on the way that Izuku is kissing him like it's the last thing he's ever going to do, like whatever Shouto tastes like it's Izuku's favorite taste. Without permission his hands find Izuku's hair, threading into the curls and getting stuck there, holding on tighter and tighter and tighter as Izuku kisses him and kisses him and oh no-
They both make noises of surprise as Shouto's legs give out, but neither of them really cares much to stop kissing the other one as they slide down the wall until they settle out with Shouto sitting, Izuku kneeling over him, kissing Shouto like he needs it more than air.
“You idiot,” Izuku whispers between kisses. “You idiot,” kiss, “you idiot,” kiss, “you idiot...”
“Shush,” Shouto says, bringing Izuku's mouth back to his own, and Izuku hums against him, lips curving up into a smile, wrapping his arms around Shouto's neck and holding him there, as close as can be. Shouto doesn't know if he could break away if he tried – but there's no way he wants to.
After all, what's better than sitting here, kissing the love of his life?
Their breath puffs into the air under the moonlight, and Shouto lets himself crowd just a little bit closer to Izuku, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Izuku's, allowing himself to watch the shorter boy's face flush a little in the cold night like he didn't just spend twenty minutes shoving his tongue down Shouto's throat.
“You know,” Izuku chuckles, ducking his face a little and hiding under the other hand, “I gotta admit something.”
“Yeah?”
“I um... I thought we were actually dating. In the beginning. At the first dinner.”
Shouto frowns, pulling Izuku's hand into his hoodie pocket to keep it warm, thinking back, thinking about what Izuku had said, about the way he had clammed up the first night...
“Ah,” he mumbles. “I guess I really am an idiot, huh?”
“Hey,” Izuku giggles. “I won't stand for anybody talking about my boyfriend that way.”
Flushing a little at the word, that word just for them and for nobody else, Shouto squeezes Izuku's hand in his pocket. “I'll try, but I gotta say, I do some really dumb shit sometimes.”
“Hey hey,” Izuku says, stepping in front of Shouto and forcing him to stop walking or take both of them down. He stretches up on his toes to press a brief kiss to the corner of Shouto's mouth. “Maybe I'll just have to kiss you to shut you up every time.”
“Hmmm,” Shouto hums, leaning down to kiss him again. “You know, I'm not really seeing any incentive to stop.”
“Oh, hush, you dork,” Izuku chuckles, stretching up again. Shouto lets him steal another kiss, two, three.
“Hang on,” he frowns a little, and Izuku raises an eyebrow. “Didn't you just spend like three minutes calling me an idiot? I seem to remember-”
“That wasn't me,” Izuku says into his skin, the cheeky little shit, and Shouto chuckles against his mouth.
“Alright,” he agrees, deadpan, between kisses. “That wasn't you.”
“Shush,” Izuku says, pulling him down, and Shouto couldn't resist him, even if he wanted to. And he doesn't want to, not in a million years. He wants to spend the rest of his life having this – starry nights and breath puffed into the moonlight, this new point of view – and having it for real.