numbertwohero | @microwaveable

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@microwaveable

His mother has good days and bad days.

On the good days, she's sweet and kind. She greets him with a hand on his cheek and a smile, she asks him how his classes are going, she remembers the friends he mentions and teases him about being popular with the girls. They go for long walks in the facility grounds and she tells him about the plants she's growing in the little space they've let her have, and he ends the visit with a hug, her thin, fragile form in his careful arms, and he wonders at how much smaller than him she is already. On the good days, he leaves with hope and renewed determination to become the best he can be, to show his father that number two isn't just second place and it's a place and a life to be proud of.

This was not a good day.

This was the kind of day where he opened her door and she looked at him for that first second with fear and hatred and sorrow, where her eyes lingered on his left side too long, no matter how much he tried to keep her on his right. This was the kind of day where every response was distracted and her voice too high-pitched and her laughter sharp and strained. This was the day that, when he reached out to stop her from walking in front of a speeding golf cart full of groundskeepers, she flinched from his touch and slapped him across the face.

She'd apologized, horror on her face and heartbreak in her voice, and he'd said it was fine, and he loved her, but he left soon after, hurrying back towards the school dorms where he could just...shut himself away. It was still early on Sunday. Everyone would still be out, or training, and he could have time to put himself back together. His right cheek is still burning from her slap, stinging and red and almost bruised, and it aches with a pain sharper and more real than the phantom ache of his scarred left side. It's a strange feeling. Normally that side doesn't feel hot. Everything is backwards. Everything is backwards, and his chest is tight, and he can feel the tears trying to burn at his eyes, but it's fine, he's almost there--

--and then he rounds the corner of the stairs heading up towards the fourth floor, and almost runs straight into Midoriya, coming down. Todoroki's eyes are wide, almost glassy, and his heart is racing, and it's only a second before he looks away, not quite flinching but all but vibrating with tension.

"...Sorry. I didn't see you there."

His voice is rough, strained, just as tight as his shoulders, and he waits for Midoriya to keep on going, to be tactful or distracted or whatever it is he needs to be, so he can finally make it up that last flight to his own floor and the safety of his room.

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He's got a funny sort of way he moves, especially when he's strung so tight like he is in that moment. His hands might be shaking, but it's hard to say from how much he's moving them, not really giving them the chance to be still as he taps his way through a small movie collection in slim jewel cases until he finds their desired film. Then it's more quick motions until it's in the player, and he's definitely gripping the remote so the tremor in his hands isn't as obvious. He sniffs roughly and smudges the back of one hand over his face again, waiting for Shouto to respond, and realizing he's... watching him, and that he doesn't mind so much even if it makes him a little self-conscious.

"Um," his ears flush pink as he tries to work out his question, and he finally just reaches his arms out in front of him. "Can I hug you, I know that's weird but, you looked so shaken before, a-and, I guess that's something I've wanted to do for... a long time now."

He's no stranger anyway to the way it sometimes takes Izuku a minute to figure out exactly what he wants to say (or maybe it's that he knows what he wants to say, he just thinks too much about whether or not it's okay to say it, or about how exactly to say it, getting up the courage to say it--maybe all of these things at once, sometimes, and it's no wonder he gets overwhelmed) so he doesn't interrupt, or ask a leading question, or do anything at all, really, besides sit there and wait. And that looks like that might be the right thing to do, at least in this case, as Izuku finally says it.

There's no question at all about his answer. Is it weird? It might be, if you're not used to anyone asking that kind of question at all. It might be weird if you think that two guys aren't supposed to do things like that, if you think it's weird for friends to do things like that, but honestly Shouto's never had enough friends to develop those kinds of ideas and it has been a very, very long time since anyone has hugged him and he thinks that maybe Izuku might also need that hug and he thinks--

"I'd like that. A lot." The words are said almost without thinking, said to finish the wandering thoughts in his head, and he means them, one hundred percent. There's no self-consciousness in them, either. Izuku wants to hug him--has for a long time now, he says, and there's a strange, warm, almost dizzying feeling in his chest at that thought, something he'll ponder over later--and that's all he needs. But he should probably stand up, right? Not just keep sitting here? It'll be awkward for Izuku if he's standing and Shouto is sitting down, he's shorter but he'd still have to bend over a little, right? Right. He should move.

In probably the exact opposite of what Shouto was hoping to garner with his response, Izuku's eyes well right the fuck back up again with how immediate he is in not only conceding, but saying he'd like it. It wasn't something he allowed himself to think about very often, particularly because he feared it would get him teased, but he loved and even often craved physical contact, especially living away from his mother who so readily and regularly provided it.

He sucks in a sharp breath and surges forward before Shouto can decide if he's gonna get up or not, climbing onto the bed on his knees and reaching with his whole upper body, the rest of him following somewhat like an overused slinky. His arms wrap around Shouto's shoulders, his face pressing immediately into the hollow of his neck, and his legs shuffle along after so he's sitting side-saddle in his friend's lap, trying his best to be unobtrusive about it. His legs wind up folded at the knee and tucked against Shouto's thigh, and he just breathes for a moment, trying to keep somewhat level.

"...you're so warm."

Of course he's probably used to hiding things like that, especially with the way Bakugou treats him. If that's at all the kind of behavior he's used to from people, then of course he's going to be uncomfortable doing things like asking for hugs. He must trust me a lot to do this, Shouto suddenly thinks, and the warmth that spreads through him only increases as Izuku throws himself at him.

He doesn't even really have time to react. Suddenly there's a pair of surprisingly muscular arms around his neck, and Izuku's damp face is buried in the join of his shoulder, breath warm and tickling. His arms go around Izuku's waist as the other young man keeps moving in, until eventually they're settled with Izuku in his lap, curled up and pressed against him, and Shouto's arms are holding him close. Holding him. Because yeah, this might be a hug, but--it's more than that, isn't it? It's definitely more. And that's... that's okay.

At his words, one broad palm slides up the length of Izuku's spine, fingers tentatively sliding into his hair as he tilts his head slightly, burying his face in that soft, curly mess and breathing deeply. "So are you," he murmurs after a moment, and the words are bare inches from Izuku's ear.

It's surprisingly comfortable like this. He doesn't feel the urge to move at all, his fingers just slowly and carefully stroking through Izuku's hair. The movie can wait.

Shouto's breath at his ear causes an involuntary shudder to move from one end of Izuku's spine to the other, and he laughs quietly against his collarbone. "That tickles," he breathes, but stays put right where he is, tucked against the heterochromic hero. He's so... secure, and comfortable, and his hands are broad and gentle, and his stomach is squirming with butterflies from their contact and the sheer degree of good it feels.

He can't even wholly blame Bakugou for his skittish behavior, really. He didn't hold the other teen nearly as accountable for his actions as he should, but it just wasn't in his nature to resent anyone (except probably Endeavor, for his crimes against Shouto, and absolutely All For One, but those were separate matters). He knows, dully, that Katsuki's bullying most of their lives had been a hugely contributing factor to his overall concern when it came to how people perceived and reacted to him, but he was still not likely to ever blame him for it. And it didn't really matter now, anyway-- not when he could, even if it had taken him months, ask people like Shouto to help him make up for lost time.

He settles, closing his eyes and just breathing Shouto in, resting comfortably slotted to him like a tiny puzzle piece, and he's surprised by how secure it all feels. He didn't expect to feel unsafe in the care of a close friend as Shouto was, but the degree of safety he felt was startling nonetheless.

He can feel that shudder run up Izuku's spine, with his hands pressed as they are to his back; one flat against the space between his shoulder blades, the other cupping the back of his neck. He can feel it, and there's a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach at knowing he'd done that. A strange feeling, and maybe a little temptation to do it again, especially as he feels Izuku laugh against his collarbone, prompting a shiver of his own. He could do that again, breathe against Izuku's ear, whisper to him just what he's feeling...

But, he's not exactly sure that that's the right thing to do. In fact, probably not, considering how Izuku had even teared up at his agreement, so instead his arms just tighten a little more, and he smiles as he whispers into Izuku's hair. "Sorry." And then a moment later, or two, or three, or five: "I like the way you fit, here."

He hadn't exactly meant to say that one out loud. But then, this is astonishingly comfortable. Just sitting here, matching his breathing to Izuku's, gently stroking his back: he might be starting to drift, just a little.

Behind them, the movie has probably started playing, but Izuku, for one isn't hardly paying it any mind. He might shift to settle so it at least looks like he's watching it over his shoulder, but he's pretty wholly invested in focusing on his friend, instead. If he tilts his head just right, he can hear his heartbeat-- maybe a little quicker than would be normal, for them being at rest, but this is a sort of weird situation. Izuku's own heartbeat was certainly erratic, he wasn't about to fault Shouto for his.

"Mm, you're really comfy," he agrees, and a moment later the rest of Shouto's statement catches up with him, and his ears go red again. "...could probably stay fit here for a long time, actually. Stop apologizing." He closes his eyes over and just breathes, taking in the way Shouto smells-- a bit like ozone, but that specific almost sharp way that comes before snowfall, notes of fire, or maybe burning firewood, mixed in. His Quirk, he was sure, but underneath it was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but liked all the same. He shifted, unconsciously, probably dozing off himself, and tilted his head back enough to brush his lips against his friend's jawline. "I'm really glad you're here, Todoroki-kun."

Honestly, he's not paying much attention to the movie, either. How can he when his arms are full of Izuku, warm and solid and breathing slowly, even if his heartbeat is a little high? It's no different from Shouto's own, the feeling of his pulse in his throat as his palm slides down Izuku's spine, as he memorizes the feel of the boy in his arms.

"You should," he murmurs quietly, not quite drifting, but close to it. Should stay, he means. He can stay as long as he likes, and Shouto's other hand slides down to rest on his hip, keeping him close as they both sink into the dreamy silence.

Except--he doesn't exactly stay there. One moment, he's drifting, and the next...the next Izuku's lips are brushing his jaw, the sensation electric against his skin, and suddenly he's awake again, his heart pounding with... anticipation, maybe? After all, hadn't he been thinking earlier...but the action seems to have been almost unconscious, and Izuku looks so peaceful like this, so Shouto just wills his heartbeat to calm and slow. Tilting his head slightly, carefully, he places a very deliberate, feather-light kiss to Izuku's temple, letting his lips rest a moment as his eyes close.

"Mm. Me, too."

The only bad thing about all of this was that Izuku, for one, would probably struggle to remember this when he woke up. He'd think he'd just been dreaming, and be embarrassed, because dreaming about kissing your friends and being kissed back, even in as innocuous of a way as jawlines and temples, was absolutely not something he should be admitting to. As it stands, he just settles back against Shouto's collarbone, warm and comfortable fitted to him as he was.

Shouto doesn't remember falling asleep.

He remembers the warmth and the weight of Izuku in his arms and in his lap, a comforting presence after his tumultuous morning. Maybe this had all been a surprise. Maybe he wasn't expecting to suddenly realize that he didn't just feel friendly towards the boy he considered his best friend. But he's never been the kind of person to stew in denial and to try to ignore his feelings. He's always faced things head-on. And this...this was a good thing. A thing he wants.

He does remember kissing Izuku. He remembers being kissed. But he doesn't remember how they got here, exactly.

Not that he knows what here is, exactly, or where; he's still mostly asleep, warm and comfortable and happy. There's something solid and comfortable in his arms, and a smell that just makes him want to bury his face in it.

So that's what he does: eyes still closed, he buries his face in the back of Izuku's neck, taking a deep breath and hugging the other boy close to him.

Izuku absolutely doesn't remember falling asleep, seeing as he only barely remembers getting so comfortable in Shouto's lap that he could. But he wakes up in a fog, warm and comfortable and held fast to something warm and solid and burying itself in the back of his neck, and he makes a confused little chirp of a sound at that, turning his head and getting a face full of Todoroki Shouto's mismatched and startlingly silky hair.

...Huh.

It takes him about ten seconds to put together that he's hopelessly tangled in his friend's limbs and that freaking out about it is probably only going to tangle them further, but he can't quite figure how he got to this point. In his half-awake daze, he settles that he doesn't really care, because it's comfortable, but a more pressing part of his brain is rattling his heartbeat in his chest about it.

"Mmn, Todoroki-kun?"

Tangled is a good word for it. Shouto's got one arm pillowed under his head, and the other wrapped firmly around Izuku's waist; one bent knee is pressed to the back of the other young man's, while the other leg is wrapped around his, keeping his feet pinned. He's...well, clinging. Rather like an octopus, really. And he doesn't seem at all inclined to let go.

The sound of his name being called starts to penetrate the fog, but still doesn't get very far. He should probably answer, but words still require so much more than he wants to spend.

Instead, he makes a soft noise, a rumble deep in his throat, as he burrows in closer, lips pressed to the join of Izuku's shoulder and neck, his palm splayed flat against the other's stomach. He doesn't want to move, and he definitely doesn't want to wake up enough to remember he probably shouldn't be doing this.

Scratch this off the list of things Izuku never thought he'd wake up to. He makes another muffled sound, which becomes a startled squeak when Shouto's lips press to his neck, and he squirms in his hold. The hand on his stomach draws a startled gasp, and he wiggles his way to almost face him from his reacharound spooning.

"Todoroki-kun," he repeats, laughing quietly. "Wake up, you're too sleepy..." Gay panic would resume once he stopped being horribly charmed by Shouto's tired cuddling.

This time, his name being called is accompanied by the soft, warm, solid weight in his arms shifting and turning, which in turn calls for another one of those quiet noises in protest. It doesn't go far, at least; just turns, and finally, finally he decides he should probably wake up enough to see what's going on.

Those bicolored eyes part slowly, still hazy from sleep, to find Izuku's only bare inches from his own. Wait.

"Midoriya...?"

His voice is husky from sleep, a little confused, but there's still an affection in it that there's no hiding. As he slowly tries to pull his mind back from unconsciousness, he realizes he's holding Izuku, his arm still wrapped around the other young man. And yet...it's really comfortable, and he doesn't want to stop.

"...Guess we fell asleep?"

Oof, gay panic resumed in full force. How are his eyes so pretty, anyway? The scar on his left side really just makes the teal of his iris brighter, the greyish brown of the other softer in comparison, and Izuku's heart makes a wild bid to escape his chest by way of his mouth. He makes a strangled little chirp of a sound when Shouto groggily mumbles his name, heartbeat trapped in his throat like a tiny bird, beating its wings helplessly against the back of his tongue. He's by no means uncomfortable tangled up in the other, even if he can't remember how they got here hardly at all, but it's A Lot to suddenly wake up to.

He chews on his lower lip. "I don't even remember the weird song all Ariel's sisters sing at the beginning," he admits, but Todoroki is absolutely not imagining him squirming a little closer. Granted, it's in part because he's trying to hide the embarrassed pink darkening his face, but he's still absolutely ducking to hide against his collar again.

How had they gotten here, exactly? He'd been upset, and he'd run into Midoriya, and they'd gone to his room to hang out, and then Izuku had been crying, and--

They'd been holding hands. And then Izuku had asked to hug him, and he'd climbed into his lap, and it had been so comfortable...

It's okay if Izuku buries his face again, even if Shouto thinks his eyes are even prettier. All he does is slide a hand up the length of Izuku's back and down again, tracing the length of his spine, marveling a little both at the shape of the muscles and the fact that he's even here. That they're both here, this close, and it doesn't feel strange at all. In fact, he could just close his eyes and drift right back off, if he wanted to, and part of him really does.

Tucking his face down against Izuku's, Shouto breathes deeply, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck. "You fit like this, too," he says sleepily, and the words don't seem to sound strange at all. "I like it. I've never slept with anyone like this before." And yet, here they are.

Please excuse Izuku as he vibrates into the very stratosphere in gay panic.

"M-me neither!" He's chirping again, voice pitched higher with nerves at how close Shouto is. His hand at his neck, their faces so close, their legs still tangled and bodies fit together. He really did fit comfortably here, but just because it felt right, felt nice, was it, really? "It's embarrassing, you're a lot taller than me. That's probably why I fit well, it's like penguins, their babies are little and sit under them for warmth. Not that I'm a baby, or a penguin, I actually don't like cold weather very much at all." Please help him, he's rambling.

Honestly, Shouto isn't feeling much panic at all. Maybe he should be. After all, this isn't the kind of thing two guys should be doing, right? If he is doing this, he knows most guys his age would rather be with a girl. And yet, here he is. Comfortable. His pulse is maybe a little high, but...there isn't anyone else he'd want to be like this with. No one else, except maybe Iida, makes him feel as comfortable as Izuku does.

Even the chattering is comfortable. He never feels alone, even with his eyes closed, as long as there's that constant stream of words that Izuku is so good at providing, and Shouto does his best to listen, even when he sometimes falls off track. Like now.

"It's not embarrassing, just because you're smaller doesn't mean anything. You're still stronger," he says, and gets distracted all over again by just how muscular the smaller boy is. Again, maybe not the kind of thing he should be noticing, but here he is. Here they are.

And he's fallen off track again, distracted. That chatter is calming, and he's been drifting a little, catching the occasional word--he was talking about penguins, he thinks?--but he comes back in just in time for the end. "You should find me if you ever get too cold. I'll keep you warm," he murmurs, his eyes closing again as his arm slips back down to Izuku's waist. He would keep him warm. Absolutely.

He squirms, not entirely sure what to think of Shouto's continued pawing-- he's flattered, maybe? He keeps saying he likes it, likes how he fits, that he's strong, and the praise is sort of making him anxious, if he's honest, but he likes it. He really likes it, and maybe that's, like he noticed before, the scariest part of it all. He's been so lucky-- given a Quirk, and an amazing one, by his idol, given the chance to attend UA, making it in despite not having good control of himself. Being supported the whole way, helping Shouto learn to use his own power without being stuck thinking of his father.

Getting tangled up in him in his bed, watching a movie, limbs and breath mingling as they discover each other, warm and pliable, comforting one another in ways neither of them really understand, but both gravitate toward anyway. His breath catches in his throat.

"Todoroki-kun," he whispers, craning his neck and pressing his lips to the juncture of his neck and jawline. "...Todoroki-kun." He falls into repetition, saying his name over and over again and kissing his skin, gently, his voice getting thicker as he goes, choked with emotion and something else he can't pinpoint. He's so warm, and they're so close, and he just wants to slot himself flush to his friend's body and really feel him--

--he's reminded of his earlier thought process involving his hands in his pants, and his face and ears flare scarlet, but he stays put, heartbeat stuttering wildly. "I'm not being completely honest with you, and that isn't fair," he breathes, mouth near his earlobe.

Pawing, really? Honestly, he's just comfortable and warm, and he's still kind of in disbelief that he's being permitted to do any of this. What's a little praise compared to that? Aside from clearly being something Izuku is unused to.

He'll just have to say these things more so he has a chance to get used to hearing them, Shouto decides, but that train of thought too is entirely derailed at the way Izuku says his name, and then presses lips to the edge of his jaw in what is unmistakably a kiss. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, one that's magnified as he does it again, and again, and his arm tightens just a little around the other boy's waist as he tilts his head back slightly, inviting more. As many more as he wants, honestly, because he doesn't want this to stop.

Of course, eventually it has to, and he's almost disappointed, except that Izuku is whispering in his ear in a way that does some incredible things all on its own, warmth spreading through the pit of his stomach.

He shouldn't get that distracted. He should focus on those words. They're important, right? I'm not being completely honest with you, Izuku says, and that's confusing enough that he pauses, tilting his own head in turn to murmur against the other's cheek. "You know you can tell me anything," he says, and doesn't even bother trying to resist the urge to kiss the side of his neck, the hollow behind his ear. Whatever it is, Izuku would never lie in a way that hurt him. Shouto's sure of it.

His breath shakes, and soon the rest of him follows, and he's winding his arms tighter around the back of Shouto's shoulders to hold onto him. The lips to his neck pull a startled gasp from him, to the shell of his ear cause a strangled whine of a sound, and the embarrassed flush to his skin blooms scarlet, traveling down and disappearing under the collar of his shirt. He feels like Shouto is slowly catching him on fire, the sensation making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his breath come in short gasps. As an afterthought, he's careful to keep his hips as much detached from their tangle as he can, because at this point he's not sure a boner is out of the question. He holds his shoulders closer, despite himself.

"I've probably liked you, maybe more than just as a friend, for a while now," he admits, and his voice is small. He sounds afraid of the words, pressing his face against the hollow of his shoulder. "Today I was just worried for you, but now... All this, it's not fair unless you know." The shaking to his shoulders becomes constant, like he's cold.

Every single one of those reactions he manages to coax from Izuku just makes him want to do this more. He's trembling, but he's also pressing closer, winding his arms around Shouto's neck; gasping for breath, but leaning in to every touch, although he seems to be very careful about keeping his hips away from their tangle. Which...might be for the best, anyway, as Shouto is beginning to think that he's definitely interested in much more than just a friendly sort of affection from Izuku, and it's probably better to hold off on that until he's heard what the other boy has to say. And what he has to say...

What he has to say makes Shouto's heart pound in his chest. What he has to say makes him wonder if he's still asleep, because he must still be dreaming. Except he couldn't dream this, could he? The warmth of Izuku's breath against his collar bone, the way he's trembling in Shouto's arms like he's freezing, even as his face burns with that flush.

"Oh." Really, oh? Is that all he can manage, a quietly surprised sound? After all of that? Sure, he wasn't expecting to hear something so bold from Izuku, but given what they've been doing, it can't have been that much of a surprise.

He should say something.

"Then...I guess neither one of us has been totally honest," he tries again, voice just as quiet and careful, soft in a way he rarely is. "Because I think I've been feeling the same way. I like being friends with you, but--it's not just that." Nudging Izuku's head with his nose, he pulls back slightly, enough so that he can get a better look at his face, a question on his own. "Do you...want to stop? Because we can. If you aren't comfortable..." He'd never want to pressure Izuku into anything he's not comfortable with, but this...he doesn't want to stop this, either.

His breathing settles into short hitched breaths that border on hyperventilating when all Shouto has to say at first is a quiet oh, because-- That could mean so many things. An oh from Shouto isn't immediately a bad thing, but he can't read him, he can't figure out what oh means in this regard. Was he grossed out? Did he just permanently destroy their friendship? Did he--

He flinches when Shouto starts talking again, quiet as it is, and he's a little startled he didn't just burst into tears, but it's like he's too shaken up to actually cry, because the very real thought that he's just ruined a friendship he's cherished so much makes him so stressed he feels sick. I guess neither one of us has been totally honest, he says, and it's such a mild statement, it could mean anything, and when he shrinks away to look at him his whole expression goes from drawn up in fear to complete slack-faced shock, because did he really hear that right, just now? I think I've been feeling the same way, he said, right? Izuku makes a wordless little croak of a sound, still shaking like his very bones are trying to escape his skin.

"I-- n-no, no, that's... this... this is really nice, if... If you want to, th-then... then I want to."

That glimpse he catches of Izuku's terrified face makes him immediately regret that 'oh,' makes him wish he were better at showing half this stuff. If he was, maybe Izuku wouldn't look so terrified. Maybe he wouldn't be trembling in his arms like he's going to shake apart.

He'll get better at this, too. If it's for Izuku...he'll do it, no question.

But for now, that's not a no, and even if Izuku is having a really strong case of nerves, he's not crying, and he's not pulling away. Shouto studies his face a moment longer, then pulls him close again, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs, as his hand slides down Izuku's back again, the tips of his fingers just barely slipping under Izuku's shirt to brush against bare skin. Whatever it is they're feeling, he isn't going to run from it. It feels too good to run from.

"I don't," he breathes, and it's the first thing he's said with confidence since he first started crying in overwhelm before the movie. He's still shaking, and he's nervous beyond belief, but Todoroki's fingers brushing his skin sends a new shiver up his spine and he smiles, even if the expression is wobbly.

He turns his head, brushing his skin against Shouto's, shyly putting his lips to his cheek.

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