Chapter Text
“This isn’t fair,” Izuku whines.
Kacchan glares at him, hands on hips, covered in pink rubber gloves that come almost all the way up to his elbows. He’s wearing one of Kirishima-kun’s headbands to keep his hair off his face, and he’s got a little squirt bottle of disinfectant hanging from his hand.
“What isn’t fair?” Shoucchan asks softly.
“Me being sick!” Izuku sniffles, burrowing in closer to Shouto’s warm left side. Kacchan is mad at him – maybe mad at the germs actually – but Shouto’s being so sweet, letting him crowd and press to whichever side of his body is more soothing. “I take care of myself-”
“Nn,” Shouto says, doubtfully, right as Kacchan snaps, “The fuck you do, you twitchy little dweeb! Never eat vegetables unless I make you, ignoring your goddamn sleep hygiene, no rest days from the gym-”
“Izuku does his best,” Shou intervenes quickly, a cool hand on the back of Izuku’s neck. Izuku pouts up at Kacchan, eyes wet, nose running a little.
“Kacchan…”
“Don’t fuckin’ Kacchan me looking like that,” Kacchan mutters furiously, but he gets a kiss on the forehead for his troubles, so totally worth it! And he’s pretty sure Shouto is smiling all secretively, too – even more worth it! – “Start takin’ care of yourself, nerd.”
“Or what?” he tries, cheeky, just a little.
“Are you seriously startin’ shit now?!” Kacchan demands, face flushing with anger. “Right now?! You can’t even fight some shitty germs and you’re startin’ shit with-?!”
“I think he’s teasing you,” Shou-kun points out, amused.
Shouto is so good to him – to both of them – but to him especially now. Kacchan has to work, but Shouto stays with him, spending one of his precious days off hovering in the living room. He knows Izuku doesn’t like to be alone when he’s sick – and it’s not needy! Shut up Kacchan! – and so he stays close, even with Izuku coughing miserably and mostly being passed out.
“’Zuku,” Kacchan’s voice murmurs.
He opens his eyes blearily. His head hurts. His skin feels too small. Sweat prickles across his whole body, even though he can feel one of Shouto’s hands on him, the cool right one. Kacchan is crouched down in front of him, and his face is smeared with eyeliner, kind of, and he looks worried.
“Mm?” he mumbles.
“C’mon, nerd,” Kacchan says, no heat. He’s so pretty when he’s not frowning – Izuku loves him so, so much. “Bed.”
He walks, but his legs shake, and Kacchan stays close. He smells like the generic soap from the agency showers, but he doesn’t go to get clean in their own, he just – herds Izuku down the hallway, warm hands grasping at his hips, directing him, keeping him from bumping into walls.
“Shouto?” Izuku asks, when they’re in their bedroom with the door shut.
“He’s in the shower, baby,” Kacchan says quietly.
Oh. Yeah. He can hear it running. “Shower?”
“Looked after your disease-riddled ass all day, and the last thing we need is Icyhot getting a fuckin’ fever.”
He doesn’t want Shouto to get sick. Like, he hardly ever does – but fevers are even more wild for Shouto than they are for him or Kacchan; it makes his quirk go haywire, and sometimes if it gets bad enough he needs quirk suppressants until it passes.
“He’s okay?” he asks blearily. His head still hurts.
Kacchan presses pills onto his tongue. “He’s fine,” he says, soft.
Ah. Kacchan can be nice. Sometimes.
Izuku sleeps. He sleeps and dreams, and in the dream, Shouto is in a burning forest, one alight with blue flames. Shouto is in the burning forest with his brother, walking away, and Izuku is chasing him, but he can’t catch up. The flames choke him, and it’s too hot, and Shouto looks blankly back at him when Izuku screams his name. And Izuku knows – knows with every fibre of his being – that if Shouto follows Touya into the wall of flames, they will never, ever see him again, and-
“Izu, baby, hey-!”
Shouto, Shouto. He has to find-
“Izuku?”
Shouto’s right there. Blurry, worried-looking, hair all kicked up, cat pyjama shirt (that Izuku got him two Christmases ago) askew on his shoulders, showing his collarbones, his neck.
“Shouto,” he sobs, and steps forward to hug Shouto tight, his hot, hot face finding Shouto’s cool right side.
“Izuku,” Shouto says again, softly, his hand petting across Izuku’s shoulders tentatively. His hand is cool, and it feels so, so good on his overheated skin. “What-”
“Please don’t go anywhere I can’t follow you.”
He’s sobbing. He can’t stop. The fire was so real, and Shouto was so very nearly gone, and-
Kacchan is murmuring to him about a shower, and he – knows he needs one, knows he’s bordering on deliriousness, so he tries to go, but his legs are weak, and he doesn’t want to leave Shouto anyway, not that it matters because Shouto leans down to pick him up and Izuku is safe there, in his arms.
“I won’t go where you can’t follow me, Izuku,” Shouto says, his breath cool against Izuku’s face, his skin just the right temperature. Izuku blinks wetly up at him, makes out his jaw, his eyes, the softness of his mouth. “I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t, anyway.”
His mouth wobbles. “You promise?”
He’s being needy. He knows he’s being needy. He shouldn’t-
“Of course,” Shoucchan says, voice still soft and quiet and comforting, reassuring, and he holds Izuku nice and tight until they reach the bathroom, and Kacchan helps him shower off.
“I saw him with Touya,” Izuku whispers under the spray, with Kacchan’s big soft hands scrubbing him clean of the fever sweat. He feels – a bit more clear-headed, now, enough to know that it was just a dream. “There was so much fire, and…”
Kacchan’s lips find his forehead, press gently. “Izu,” he says softly, “even if that matchstick motherfucker was still alive, Shou would never go with him. He wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us.”
“Touya’s his brother,” Izuku whispers uncertainly. It doesn’t matter, because Touya is dead, but – “his family.”
“So are we, nerd,” Kacchan says, and begins to pull at him gently. “C’mon, time to get out, sweetheart.”
Shouto is in their bedroom, with clothes, and the hoodie is one of Shouto’s own. Izuku feels kinda pathetic, getting dressed by his best friend, but he pulls the sleeves over his hands and sniffles until Shouto uses his quirk to dry his hair off for him.
He’s so glad Shouto is here. And he feels really, really bad for waking him up.
“I coulda done it,” he says, a token protest.
“I know,” Shouto says, idly, “I could’ve looked after myself when I was shot, too, but you wouldn’t have let me.”
Izuku smiles. Shouto is right. He wouldn’t have. And it – makes him feel better. It’s give and take. Not just take, not just give. He helps them and they help him and – really, he’s come kind of a long way from someone who didn’t used to ask for help, and wasn’t able to accept it when it was offered.
He knows it feels nicer for him when he’s allowed to help. When he’s asked for it. So he figures – it might be the same for them. Especially for Shouto.
“Take these, nerd,” he hears – Kacchan – and opens his mouth, accepts the tablets and the water, and feels himself being tipped gently to lie on his side, on the mattress.
He wants to thank them, but he’s so tired.
He can wait until morning.
~*~
“Guys, they’re throwing a gala!”
Shoucchan’s head pops up over the edge of the couch and – oh. He’s all sleep-rumpled with his eyes creased and hair askew, and he looks really soft, and really, really cuddly, and he must have been sleeping and – oh. Oh no. Izuku’s yearning.
“Hah?” Kacchan demands from the kitchen. He’s chopping vegetables roughly thirty percent faster than usual – frowning – Kacchan hates galas. “The fuck for this time?”
“Us,” Izuku says excitedly, waving his phone to show the text on the screen. “For our takedown.”
“Nn,” Shouto mumbles, rubbing his face blearily against the All Might blanket over the back of the couch.
“Fuuuck,” Kacchan mutters.
Izuku pouts. They don’t like galas. Shouto because he got dragged to them a lot as a kid, and because he doesn’t like being the centre of attention, and Kacchan because he says it’s “bullshit” and that he’s “paid to catch shitty villains, not parade around like a dress-up doll.”
“It’ll be fun,” Izuku tries. “We can invite whoever we want – we could invite the whole class!”
Shouto yawns. It’s adorable. Izuku unfolds himself from the barstool he’s curled up in and hurries over, beaming wide when Shouto tiredly lifts the corner of his blanket and lets Izuku underneath it with him.
Okay, so they’ve sort of had sex, and Shouto has seen him come. It doesn’t have to be weird! They always did this before anyway – snuggling, that is. Shouto is actually very snuggly when he trusts people enough! It takes time, but it’s so rewarding – the way he just drops his head to Izuku’s shoulder, now, and yawns, curling his bigger frame around Izuku’s like a cat.
Kacchan’s hand clenches around a carrot so hard it snaps, and Izuku sticks his tongue out. This is his reward for being emotionally unconstipated – Shouto hugs on demand. Kacchan can either join the club or – or suffer!
“Our whole class,” Shouto says, after a moment. “That might be nice. To see everyone again.”
Izuku smiles; Shouto loves their classmates so much. Really, he likes most people, even if he’s still a little quiet and a little more socially dense than the average person. He can still be kinda skittish – Izuku still feels bad about asking how he felt sleeping together with them – but mostly, if he feels safe? He’s like this. He loves physical affection, and Izuku will never, ever withdraw it or deny it.
(Izuku liked sleeping with them. With both of them. He was really sick and he was miserable, but he knew Shouto and Kacchan were there, and he was hemmed in and it felt safe.)
Kacchan sighs, glaring down at his vegetables. “So we’re gonna go?” he mutters.
Shouto yawns. “The food is free,” he says, and Izuku bites down on a laugh – typical Shouto. “And it’s a gala thrown for us. I don’t see that we have a choice.”
“Fine. I’m not fuckin’ happy ‘bout it, though!”
~*~
Kacchan and Shouto clean up so, so beautifully.
Izuku is in awe of them, really. In awe of Kacchan in his slim-fit trousers and his hair contrasting with a black shirt that really, really is working unpaid overtime to cling to his chest, and a blood-red vest that matches his eyes, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and-
Kacchan grabs his chin with a warm hand. “Stop fuckin’ drooling,” he says, his eyes flitting over Izuku’s mouth – he knows what that does to him! – before he smirks. “Gotta at least get through the entrees.”
Izuku leans up to kiss him, knowing it’ll either diffuse his irritation or make it way worse – and he’s in for a win as Kacchan melts closer and grabs his waist, not gentle at all, possessive, and drags him in closer.
“Are you ready?”
Shouto is – is mouthwateringly beautiful; tall and statuesque in a crisp black suit with white accents, something that should make him look like a butler but, you know, it’s Shouto, so of course he just looks like a model, and a red shirt to match Kacchan’s vest, and-
And green gems glittering in the beds of gold ear piercings.
Izuku immediately wants to ditch the gala and just stay home and – and spend hours unwrapping them both and pleasing them both, peeling them out of their clothes layer by layer and kissing every inch of bare skin he can touch; Kacchan is intimately familiar to him by now and there’s no part of his gorgeous body Izuku hasn’t kissed, but Shouto? Shouto is a total unknown. There have been hints about how he’d take it, what he’d sound like, what he’d like, what he’d want-
Gay, he tells himself. That’s – really, really gay, Izuku-
“Shit,” Kacchan says, looking Shouto up and down. “Look at you all scrubbed up nice. Pretty asshole.”
Shou goes pink, looking down at his shoes as he does; he’s scratching his cheek, and he’s clearly kinda embarrassed, but he smiles a little bit as he does and says, “Momo helped.”
Shouto likes being called pretty and Izuku can’t believe Kacchan figured it out before him, damn it!
“Your earrings are amazing,” Izuku adds on, not to be beaten, and Shouto’s blush deepens a bit, aw. “Especially with the suit.”
They get finish up with getting ready – Kacchan complaining about inviting Mineta the whole time, of course – and Izuku only pauses when he notices Shouto looking straight ahead, his eyes faraway, distant.
He approaches slowly, because Shouto doesn’t do well with being snuck up on, and touches his arm gently. “Shou?” he asks tentatively.
Shouto blinks and looks at him.
“Sorry,” Izuku says, giving his arm a little squeeze. “You just looked like you were sad. What were you thinking about?”
Shouto surprises him then – by turning and taking his tie in hand, a soft, maybe slightly exasperated smile on his face – it’s not Izuku’s fault that ties are complicated! – and begins to fix it.
“I went to a lot of these galas as a child and as a teenager,” he explains, and his smile slips. “Endeavour would take me. He stopped when I got into U.A and my training intensified.”
Kacchan says something, but Izuku is busy watching Shouto. It’s a good enough reason – of course it is – but it… isn’t all Shouto was thinking about, for sure.
Still, if Shouto didn’t say, it’s because he didn’t want to, and Izuku won’t press him. It won’t help. He’ll just clam up – the trick with Shouto is to let him know you’re there, and then let him come to you. Anything else is treated with mild suspicion.
He takes Shouto’s hands in his own when Shouto’s done fidgeting with his tie. “We don’t have to go,” he says quietly. “We can totally bow out-”
It’s not really an option, which they both point out, but just the offer seems to relax Shouto, and he stays that way as they get into the agency-sent car and head to the venue.
It’s a good thing it’s private. He and Kacchan – sort of start making out? It’s not completely his fault though – Kacchan grabs his face again and kissing him worked before, so he does it again now, promising to be good.
And then, when they break apart, Shouto is – kind of watching them, eyes big and wide. His hair is pushed to the side; he looks beautiful tonight. Izuku knows Kacchan is thinking exactly the same thing, because he sits up straighter and-
“C’mere, princess.”
And Shouto just goes.
He doesn’t even hesitate – Shou-kun really will do anything if you ask him nicely – he just slides across the expensive seats until he’s right next to Kacchan and he lets Kacchan grab his neck and pull him down-
And they kiss. And Izuku watches, heat crawling up his throat and into his face. His boyfriend is kissing their best friend. He should be mad! Furious even! But it’s so hot – it’s so unnecessarily hot – and he’s pretty sure Kacchan is using tongue-
They break apart, and Izuku spares an errant and unhinged thought for all the fangirls who dream of being the wives of either of them one day, because it’s not going to happen.
“Looked lonely over there,” Kacchan smirks, and his eyes dart to Izuku right as Shouto blinks and licks his lips tentatively, a little puff of steam fluffing the hair sitting over his left ear.
Oh, God.
Izuku’s gonna die. He’s gonna die of horny. Is that possible? Can he die of horny? Should he worry about that?
… It doesn’t seem like that bad a way to go-
It’s a better way to go than death by embarrassment, which is what he’s sure is going to happen when they get there; he forgets that galas come with press attendance, and that the press are very, very interested in interviewing all three of them after their takedown.
He stops Kacchan from interfering – at least for a little bit, because he really narrowly avoided a smear campaign after the trash can incident – and lets Shouto take the lead, grateful that for all their friend is a little – eccentric – socially, that includes an amazing lack of nerves where the media, television, or anything remotely related to fame are concerned.
The interview is over as fast as it began – Kacchan is mad because the reporter is flirting with Shouto (and Izuku doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t have to – he gets it, Shouto is gorgeous) and threatens to kill Shou on live camera; Izuku flails in the face of being on live air, and Shouto ends up having to guide them both away.
He doesn’t even look ruffled. Just beautiful, with his white hair swept up and over his red, exposing his big grey eye and his high cheekbones. He’s regal-looking enough to seem bored, even though Izuku knows that’s just his resting expression.
“Never mind resting bitch face,” Denki had said one night. “He’s got resting rich face.”
Izuku hates to admit it, but he’s right.
They ditch their jackets, and Izuku is laughing by the time they head into the main hall – until Shouto sees the sheer amount of noise and people and stops dead where he’s walking, almost backing up until he hits Izuku.
He feels immediately awful. Poor Shouto. He really, really doesn’t like these things, and for all he’s good in front of cameras and the media, he hates crowds.
Izuku’s hand finds Shou’s back, what he’d do for Kacchan if Kacchan was overwhelmed, and when Shouto turns to look at him, he tries to smile. He thinks it must help, because Shouto relaxes just a tiny bit; beyond him, Kacchan stands guard, ready to call the entire thing off and make a scene if he has to.
“We don’t have to stay long,” he tells Shouto softly.
“It’s fine,” Shou-kun says, and straightens up; it’s not, though, and Izuku can tell, and even Kacchan can tell by how he’s standing and glaring, for sure. “I’ll get used to it.”
Izuku hates that Shouto’s knee-jerk response to discomfort or pain is to just get used to it – because he’s never had any other options at his disposal – but he understands. Still, he’s grateful when Kacchan mutters, “You don’t have to get used to it,” looking really mutinous while he does.
It’s even funnier when he hides behind Shouto as they enter – it must be the only time he isn’t mad about the two inches Shouto has on him.
Shouto gets hugs the second they’re close enough to the girls – they all love him so much, and it’s so, so sweet to see; nothing makes Izuku happier than seeing people love on Shouto the way he deserves – and Kacchan manages to shake everyone off (mostly, Mina and Toru are determined) before asking if Mineta has bothered them, and that’s sweet too, isn’t it? That he cares. Kacchan hasn’t… always been good at caring, so it’s nice. That he does. That he shows it, even.
Ah, Izuku loves them all so much.
By the time dinner actually starts, Izuku is – okay he’s kinda drunk but in his defense, Ochaco is a terrible influence! – and he’s content and happy, and they’ve got Shouto sandwiched in between them safely (even though he seems way less nervous) and Izuku is on cloud nine, realizing they’re the ones that get to teach him. To show him intimacy – to make him feel good.
Shouto chose them. Them. Out of everyone – and he could have anyone! – and he accepted it from them.
He sighs, shuffles closer, and rests his hand on Shouto’s knee, watching until those two-toned eyes find him, until the blush works its way up his cheeks, until he’s really focused – and then mouths, “hey,” and smiles wider when Shouto blinks back at him.
He’s so beautiful, and he’s so cute. How is that even possible? Both? At the same time?
“Nerd’s flirting with you, isn’t he?” Kacchan mutters.
Shouto swallows. “I think so,” he says, voice rasping.
Izuku smiles even wider at that.
They’re going to have an amazing night.