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It had never seemed like the right time. That was Sero’s excuse, anyway — everything about Todoroki was perfect, so their first kiss had to be too, right? He couldn’t afford to mess this up, not when he finally had what he’d longed for ever since they started spending more time together. Now they’re boyfriends — have been for nearly three months at this point — and Sero still hasn’t kissed him.
The worst part is never being able to tell if Todoroki has even noticed or not. It isn’t as though either of them is particularly experienced at romance, but they’ve traded enough books by now for Sero to guess that Todoroki has at least some idea of how the whole thing works. Or at least, how it’s supposed to work. But he’s never given any indication that he’s bothered by Sero’s refusal to make a move, and he’s never even attempted it himself. Maybe he doesn’t want to, Sero thinks, sprawled out haphazardly on the floor, his legs resting on Todoroki’s lap.
His eyes are closed, head leaned back on Sero’s mattress. He had been reading, but maybe he got tired — or maybe he just wanted to take a break and breathe for a little while. Sero wishes he’d open his eyes, though. He loves Todoroki’s eyes.
Maybe some people don’t appreciate the asymmetry, but every time Todoroki looks at him, Sero is transfixed. One gray, one blue. The gray reminds him of fog, of rain, of the ocean on a cloudy day. It makes him think of old movies, of newspapers, of scribbles in notebooks and cigarette smoke that he always thought was pretty but never wanted to breathe. Plenty of people believe Todoroki’s fire is the more dangerous of his two quirks, but Sero knows the strength of his ice. He’d been frozen solid in it at the sports festival, and all Todoroki had said to defend himself was, “Sorry… I overdid it. I was just annoyed.”
Annoyed.
He’d learned later, of course, that annoyance was only a small part of everything he’d been feeling. Complex emotions revolving around his father, his mother, his quirks. Things Sero can never fully understand, not in this lifetime. Not the way Todoroki knows them. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting. That doesn’t stop him from trying.
He thinks of Todoroki’s hands, of the way he sometimes covers up the left half of his face when he looks at himself in the mirror. He thinks of the sharp blue stare Todoroki gives him sometimes, a piercing gaze that few could master.
The blue reminds him of other things. The sky, for one — vast and deep and capable of swallowing him whole. The sky that Sero flings himself through time and time again, desperate to feel the freedom that only flying can grant him, desperate to have the air stolen from his lungs the same way Todoroki manages to simply by existing. It reminds him of blank TV screens, chlorine-filled pool water, lights on skyscrapers in big cities. A fire hotter than red, hotter than orange, hotter than white. Blue like stained glass, like seaglass, like lightning, like paint. Blue like his hero costume. Blue like his veins.
Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s nudging his foot against Todoroki’s thigh. He just wants to look at him, wants to see those eyes. Sero thinks there’s a whole world there.
“Mm?” Todoroki hums, cracking his right eye open to peer down at Sero. Not enough, he thinks. He sits up.
Words aren’t a tool Sero is particularly skilled with all the time. Not like Bakugou. Not like Kaminari. He stumbles over them, tries to fit them into place as best as he can, but it’s never easy to say the things that matter most. That’s why you’re supposed to say them, something whispers in his ear, and he knows, of course he knows, but… don’t actions speak louder? Will Todoroki understand if he says it with his hands instead of his throat? With his eyes instead of his lips?
Or maybe his lips could count anyway. They have more purposes than just speaking.
“What are you doing?” Todoroki asks, opening both eyes as Sero shifts closer to him, tucking his legs underneath his body so he can sit side-by-side and still face him. They’re close now, close enough that Sero can stare right into those perfect eyes and travel the world.
Three months, he thinks. Has he proven he’s worthy of this yet? Has he earned the privilege of pressing his lips to Todoroki’s?
He almost doesn’t want to. Kissing him means he has to close his eyes, and Sero isn’t done looking yet.
“You’re sure taking your time,” Todoroki murmurs, something like an accusation lining his tone. Sero can’t help a grin. Is he getting under his skin that badly? Is this something Todoroki genuinely wants?
“I’m just enjoying the view,” Sero says. He means it, of course, but Todoroki doesn’t seem to understand.
“You’re less than a foot from my face,” Todoroki says. “What view is there to enjoy?”
Sero smiles. “You.” Sappy idiot.
It works, though — Todoroki’s face flushes the slightest bit, and his eyelids flutter with embarrassed want. He’s just as pretty like this, Sero thinks, and leans in closer. Their noses brush, but Sero doesn’t kiss him, not yet. Maybe it’s rude of him, maybe Todoroki is tired of taking it slow, but Sero wants — no, he needs — to savor the moment. If he messes this up, if it isn’t perfect… it might never happen again. He needs to enjoy it while he can. Sero grabs his hands.
Todoroki’s eyes close. He’s waiting for something to happen, Sero knows, and he almost feels bad for his teasing. As a consolation, he presses gentle kisses to Todoroki’s eyelids, heart fluttering with excitement when he feels Todoroki’s left hand heat in his, an unintentional response to intimacy he’s never experienced. Sero feels lucky to be the first.
“Come on,” Todoroki whispers, eyes still closed. His nose brushes Sero’s again, and Sero realizes that he’s leaning closer, seeking out more without looking. It’s sweet. Beyond sweet. “Stop making me wait.”
At least that’s one thing Sero can always count on. Todoroki has never been shy about demanding what he wants. If Sero doesn’t kiss him, he doesn’t doubt that Todoroki will take the lead.
“So impatient,” Sero teases. They’re breathing the same air. He can feel it against his lips when Todoroki exhales. He’s tempted to say more, tempted to drag it out as long as he possibly can, but — no. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’ll just have to save this picture in his mind for as long as he possibly can, the image of Todoroki breathless and waiting just inches in front of him, eyes closed and fingers clenched around Sero’s hands, hot and cold and pleading.
“Hanta,” Todoroki whispers.
Warm lips meet his, over and over and over again in kisses that last less than a second, kisses that last for three or even five. Neither boy makes a sound save for the breaths they steal in the short moments between, the silent demand to kiss him again, to not let it be over yet.
Sero remembers a time when he asked Mina how it felt to kiss somebody, a time before he’d even realized Todoroki was the one he wanted to do it with. Underwhelming, she’d said. It’s not what everyone makes it out to be.
He’ll have to tell her she’s never had a good one. Not like this.
“Hanta,” Todoroki says again, louder this time. His grip on Sero’s hands is almost painful, almost too much. Sero leans back just a bit, just enough to look at Todoroki again as those beautiful eyes flutter open, head tilting back to fall on the mattress again.
Sero wants to ask if he’s alright, ask why he stopped. And then, without the haze of mind-numbing kisses, he finally registers the tingling in his fingers. It is painful, he realizes, not because of how tightly Todoroki is holding him, but because Todoroki is using his quirk. Both of them. “Oh,” Sero manages, stunned and entirely unhelpful.
Todoroki’s chest heaves as he takes in lungfuls of air, blinking up at the ceiling like he’s trying to remember what it is to be human. He loosens his grip on Sero’s hands, but his fingers twitch from how tense his muscles were, and he nearly chokes on his next inhale. His face is flushed red, hot and cold and completely overwhelmed.
“Shit, was I really that good?” Sero asks before he can think to stop himself, a nervous laugh bubbling up inside of him. “You’re not going to have a stroke or something, are you?”
“Too much,” Todoroki manages, trying to get his quirk under control again with visible effort. “I didn’t think — I didn’t know it would be like that.”
Sero’s lips tug into a grin that he can’t quite suppress, and he risks a quick peck to Todoroki’s right cheek. Cold. Worth it. “And that wasn’t even with tongue,” he says. Filter, he thinks, but Todoroki just covers his mouth and laughs. His eyes are open again, blue and gray watching him as he sits back just a little, just to give Todoroki some space to regulate his temperature.
“Does it feel that way every time?” Todoroki asks behind his fingers. Sero pretends for a moment that he’s trying to keep the air away, trying to memorize how it felt to be kissed.
“I don’t know,” he admits, shrugging a little. “I wasn’t expecting you to get so overwhelmed. Guess I overdid it.”
The look in Todoroki’s eyes says he doesn’t miss that reference, but it’s somewhere between embarrassed, eager, and mischievous. “Guess we’ll just have to keep doing it until we have enough data,” he says. “Didn’t we talk about that in science? Having a good sample size?”
Sero grins. “I think I heard somewhere that 200 to 300 participants is a good rule for surveys. You think that applies to kisses?”
Todoroki’s hand drops, and he leans forward to press a short kiss to Sero’s lips. “I think we could afford a few more,” he whispers, his eyes bright in the lighting of the room.
And really, who would Sero be to deny someone so beautiful?