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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On the contrary, Izuku is pretty sure there's everything to be embarrassed about, seeing as they're laying on his bed rubbing their half-hard dicks together through their clothes. It's not that he doesn't trust Shouto-- he's one of maybe five people in the world he trusts implicitly, in fact --it's just... Well, they're rubbing their half-hard dicks together. It's a little embarrassing! But maybe less so because they're both so new and confused. It's a learning experience. Lord knows Izuku loves those.

He sucks in a sharp breath when Shouto takes to mouthing his palm, and then along to his wrist, because it's... so intimate in a way he's stunned by, because it's not even sexual it's just sweet and overwhelmingly gentle, and the look on his face is surely going to make Izuku's heart explode. He blinks several times in rapid succession to keep from getting emotional about it, because they don't need his waterworks right now, not even a little bit. He sniffs carefully, and then makes a confused, wordless sound when Shouto shifts, and-- suddenly, he's sitting on Shouto and he's laying back against his mattress and there's a distinct moment of horror as he realizes they're getting frisky on top of his All Might bedspread.

But it's fine, and the panic only lasts for a second, quickly replaced by warmth that starts in his chest and travels pretty rapidly south at the overall view of Shouto... Well, below him in this particular way. He's startled by how much he likes that, actually, because he's never really considered himself a particularly dominating guy, but here he is, absolutely getting less comfortable in his shorts over straddling Todoroki Shouto's hips and the specific way his hair fans out when he's laid back like that. Ooh, boy but he's in so much trouble.

He bites his lip, squirming for a moment and feeling out the new position, and then he grins, the expression startlingly bashful from the way he hunches his shoulders up and his ears go red. He's still biting his lip, which probably doesn't help, but he's also very specifically rolling his hips against Shouto's before he can really react to his accidentally coy expression. He can't help the sound it draws out of him, either, and he lays one hand over Shouto's against his thigh, twining their fingers.

Well, okay, maybe there's that. But it's definitely hard to stay embarrassed for long, when it feels so nice and when he's got Izuku up there, looking down at him with that look on his face. Sure, he looks startled for a moment--almost panicked--but then he bites his lip and looks down at Shouto, shifting around on top of him, and he grins, and Shouto can feel his heart try to leap straight out of his chest at that expression on his face. This position...well, he's definitely not going to think of it as a mistake, especially not with the pleasant weight of Izuku on top of him, and just how much he likes seeing him from this angle, smiling down at him like that, but it's definitely dangerous. Especially if he's going to be going back to his own room wearing his own pants.

He's about to ask Izuku if everything is okay, what exactly he's thinking, and gets about as far as opening his mouth before Izuku is very deliberately rolling his hips forward like that and every single word just vanishes in favor of a breathy moan, fingers closing around Izuku's thigh as he arches up into the touch. It isn't until he feels fingers sliding over his own that he relinquishes his grip in favor of lacing their fingers together, lifting his other hand to his forehead to shove his hair back out of his face. Normally, he prefers the bangs covering his scar, but in this case, well. He'd much rather be able to see Izuku clearly, especially if he's making sounds like that.

"That feels--" is about all Shouto manages before he's shifting again, experimentally rolling his own hips upwards against Izuku in turn, breath catching and holding in his throat as he lowers his other hand back to Izuku's leg, thumb sliding over his inner thigh and under the hem of his shorts. He's so warm, all over, and Shouto just wants to keep touching him. Although another kiss would be nice, too...but really, this is good. This is very, very good.

Don't worry about your pants, Shouto, Izuku will loan you something if laundry becomes necessary. Which... With the way things are going, laundry is absolutely going to become necessary. His own breath catches at the response from Shouto, and specifically his wandering thumb finding its way under the hem of his shorts, and he bites his lower lip again.

"--yeah?" He makes it a question more than a statement, because he's still pretty sure they're both on the same page of enjoying what they're feeling, but he's still just uncertain enough to want the affirmation. "Um, should... our clothes," He can't, however, quite manage to entirely put together the concept of it probably being a good idea for them to both at least get to their skivvies. It doesn't stop him from continuing to roll his hips, idly falling into some form of rhythm with the motion as Shouto meets him partway for it.

After a second roll of his hips like that, though, he curls his fingers a little tighter around Shouto's and folds in half, bowing over him to seek and find his mouth again, rendering both of them at a loss to figure out the predicament of their pants-- at least verbally. Maybe he's read Shouto's mind a little, there, going for that kiss, but he only actually manages a sort of sloppy half-gesture before he just hovers there, breathing.

"Mm-hm," he manages, a sound of affirmation, although to which part he isn't quite sure. To how it feels, or to the concept of less clothes. Less clothes would mean more feeling, more contact with the frankly gorgeous boy on top of him, and he definitely isn't opposed to that. The only problem is getting rid of more clothing involves stopping this long enough to shed them, and he's not sure he wants that at all. The rhythm they've fallen into is nice, and when Izuku leans forward to kiss him, Shouto is right there to meet it eagerly, lifting a hand and tracing the line of his jaw, fingers sliding back into his hair and holding him close as he rolls his hips upwards again into that touch with a quiet whimper.

"...Hang on--"

Pants might be a little difficult from this angle, but he can at least get rid of his shirt here. Extracting his hand from Izuku's, Shouto reaches down and peels off his own, leaving them both bare from the waist up and his hair slightly mussed. Taking a moment to breathe, he looks up at the other boy, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. His hand drops again to Izuku's thigh, and this time his thumb deliberately skims higher on his thigh under those shorts.

"Do you want...?" He's not sure how much is too much, how far is too far, but he definitely wouldn't mind more.

He's the one that started the idea of-- well, most of this, probably? But particularly shedding their clothes, having taken off his shirt and suggested it, and yet as Shouto peels his way out of his shirt Izuku can't quite figure out how to return air to his lungs. His hands reach out and splay gently against Shouto's ribs the moment he's still again, shifting and exploring with warm fingertips, entirely entranced by the boy's skin. It's not like they've never seen each other shirtless-- or even naked, for that matter. He can't conjure a time he's actively looked prior to now, even if he's absolutely thought about it, but the last few hours have proven to teach them both a lot about themselves and each other. He's biting his lip again, not realizing he's doing it, letting his hands slide upward until they find his shoulders, then his neck, and he's folding forward again to thread his fingers into his hair.

"...this is probaby weird to say, but you're really pretty." He says it without wholly meaning to, and his tone is a little slurred-- he's absolutely high on the drug that is teenage libido and discovering how attracted he is to one of his best friends. He cranes his neck forward to kiss along his jawline as Shouto's thumb skates higher under the leg of his shorts, and he shimmies just enough to let him move farther still. "...'s okay, do what you want." Because he certainly is, just going to town smearing sloppy little kisses all along his jawline and down his neck, scooting along until he gets back to his collarbone, now exposed freely.

He might not have looked actively before now, but going forward it's going to be incredibly difficult to not. Especially now that he's seen as much as he has, felt it under his hands and his mouth. It's definitely going to make things like bathing and certain kinds of training a little awkward. And yet, he definitely wouldn't trade it for anything. Not with the way Izuku is touching him, all reverence and careful exploration, and something in his heart twists and lurches with the way the other boy says those words.

"It's not that weird," he answers, voice breathy and distracted, the ghost of a laugh in the words. "Thanks, I think. So are you--" Maybe he should use different words, he's not sure pretty is the right one for what he thinks about Izuku, but it's hard to think about anything involving words when Izuku is doing that to his neck, and whatever words he's trying to use simply dissolve into a pleased hum as he tilts his head back, rolling his hips and sliding one hand up the back of Izuku's thigh. The other finds the back of the other boy's neck, fingers threading into his hair, and it seems like he does have at least a few words left, after all. "I just want you," he breathes, an echo of Izuku's earlier words. Maybe they should lose the rest of their clothing, but for the moment he doesn't want to lose this closeness.

Izuku manages a strangled little grunt of a sound, burying his face against Shouto's skin and staying there for a moment, laughing in a thin, breathless sort of way. He sits up as much as he can with Shouto's hand on his neck, making a face at him.

"You can't just say stuff like that, jeez..." He puts a hand along his jawline, smudging his thumb across his face. "Um, could..." He bites his lower lip, squirming slightly, and pauses his train of thought enough to make a startled little gasp of a sound and glance at Shouto's hand against the back of his thigh. It's... nice. It's nice, but it's overwhelming, and there's a consistent thought going through his head through it all. "Would it be okay if I called you Shouto? Just-- ...just now, for this. It feels weird to use your family name."

Is he laughing? Shouto makes a faintly quizzical sound, and the look on his face is equally confused when Midoriya pulls back enough to make that face at him. "Why not? It's true," he answers, and while he's a little flushed from their...activity, he's not at all embarrassed about it. Or, well. At least not outwardly embarrassed. Internally, he's maybe a little uncertain. Did he do something wrong? Should he not be touching Izuku there? His hand retreats a little lower, closer to Izuku's knee, while he waits to figure out what he should do next, a kind of stillness that might belie his inner uncertainty.

What comes next isn't a stop or a no, though. Instead, it's something that's so incredibly normal, so easy that he doesn't even have to think about it. Honestly, he's maybe a little surprised that Izuku felt like he needed to ask, and that shows, too. "Of course you can," he answers, no hesitation at all. "You can use my name anyway. I don't mind." Of course, maybe it's a bigger deal for him, and Shouto tilts his head slightly, hair falling over one side of his face as he looks up at Izuku, that hand on the back of his neck shifting to cup his cheek, thumb gently tracing the shape of his lower lip.

"Then...can I call you Izuku?"

It happens before he can think about it-- everything is so utterly much right now, he's already been walking on eggshells most of the entire ordeal, the ease with which Shouto concedes to let him call him by his first name is just the final straw. He sucks in a sharp breath and his whole expression wobbles, his eyes getting hot and misting over. He shuts them, nodding, and moves one hand to cover Shouto's, guiding it back to where it had been.

"I'd like that," he manages, his voice choked and caught up in his throat, and his whole person hitches with another sharp inhale. "I'd-- like that a lot," He sits back from him, then, sitting upright, and smears his hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry, I keep getting all weepy on you, it's-- just." He's glad he doesn't ever quite reach a point of sobbing, but he's sucking in these soggy little hitched breaths that are pretty borderline. "This is a lot, 'n I never... ever thought we'd get here, I've wanted to be close enough to you for so long. You're so important to me, you're so important, I just--" He moves his hand, and his face is a wreck of embarrassed, blotchy red from his outburst, and he's lost his attempt at fighting off tears so he just lets them happen for a moment, and then moves both his arms to reach out, circling his neck so he can press his face into the hollow of his throat.

"Shouto," he breathes his name like he's praying, almost, thick and squashed through his throat like he's waited his whole life just to say his name.

He doesn't panic nearly as much this time when Izuku tears up. If there's anything he's learned, it's to pay attention. To wait, and to listen. If it was something bad, Izuku wouldn't be moving his hand back up his thigh like that, after all; he wouldn't still be on top of Shouto. So while he's still concerned, he can wait for Izuku to explain. And that explanation is more than worth waiting for.

He isn't really much of one for crying. Occasionally, even now, but it's...difficult, for him. Especially in front of other people. And yet, Izuku's words make him feel a certain tightness behind his eyes, make his throat feel full--maybe of all the words he wants to say. He swallows some of them back, but not all of them. Definitely not all of them.

His thumb strokes over Izuku's cheek, gently brushing away a tear, and as the other boy folds forward over him again, Shouto holds him tight, his whispered voice fiercely tender despite the huskiness in it, the sound of emotion clear enough. "Don't ever apologize for being the person I care about." Crying and all, Izuku means so much to him, and to hear that he feels the same...

He takes a deep breath, listens to Izuku say his name, memorizes the feeling of it against his skin. It's the first time, but it's not going to be the last. Shouto presses his lips against Izuku's hair, holds him close. "Izuku," he murmurs in response, and presses another kiss to his hair, and another, and another, breathing in the scent of him and waiting for his tears to stop.

He should have known to expect that Shouto's response would just make it worse, but he didn't, so he absolutely chokes on an attempt to reign himself in. For a long moment after Shouto breathes his name, he's starkly silent and shaking against him until he finally gives in and lets himself sob. He stays that way, curled to his front and burrowed against his throat, turning his face enough so he doesn't get his skin all wet and snotty, and lets himself have a good solid cry. He's long since past the point of being bothered by how overemotional he gets, it's just part of who he is, even if sometimes it's frustrating because he can't usually explain why he dissolves like an alka seltzer tablet sometimes. He winds up shifting, shuffling around so he's slotted beside Todoroki's body instead of straddling him, curled against him until he manages to draw in solid breaths and calm down.

He sits up, then, smiling sheepishly and smudging his hands over his face.

"...'m still gonna apologize when I do that," he says quietly, his voice a croaked grumble. Once his face is at least mostly clear, he reaches out again, framing Shouto's and kissing him, gently. "...I'll try to not burst into tears every time you call me by name, though."

Okay, he's slightly more concerned when Izuku just gives in and bursts into tears, but he isn't going anywhere save to slide off of Shouto and curl up against him instead, so maybe this is just something he needs to do. It's okay. It doesn't require any explanation or apology. As long as Izuku is okay, that's all that matters, he thinks, and just curls up with him, holding the other boy to his chest until he's done.

When Izuku sits up, Shouto props himself up on one elbow, bicolored eyes searching his face as if to be sure that everything's okay. "As long as you don't feel like you have to," he finally accedes, leaning into the touch of Izuku's lips against him. The arm that isn't braced against the bed lifts, a hand gently sliding over Izuku's cheek, helping clear away those streaked trails. It's his opinion that Izuku's learned to apologize for a lot of things that he doesn't need to apologize for. Here, at least, maybe he won't always feel like he has to.

After a moment, he sits up the rest of the way, brushing a kiss against Izuku's forehead. "You should have some water," he says, staying close for a moment before he rolls away, sliding off the bed and moving towards the small fridge to find a bottle. Once it's acquired, he climbs back in bed, handing it to the other boy and sliding in next to him again, pressed against his side. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere," he tells him, and reflects that for not the first time those words have a lot more than one meaning.

It's possibly something to be concerned about, except for the fact that it happens so often it's hard to worry that much. He'll swear up and down he's fine, and most of the time he is-- it's actually usually pretty obvious if he isn't, because it's a different sort of outburst. Regardless, the fact that Shouto just lets him have his fit and sits with him, curled and comfortable, means more than the smaller teenager can verbalize.

He sniffs roughly, smiling in a funny crooked way, and shakes his head. "No, I just want to," he explains, voice still scratchy from crying. He leans into Shouto's hand, closing his eyes and smiling. It's true, he does apologize for more than he needs to, but it's only partially by cause of other things. He's just... needlessly polite, on top of the bullying making him meek.

And meek he stays, to the point that when Shouto sits up and brushes his lips to his forehead, saying something about water before climbing out of bed, he just squeaks softly and folds inward to take up less space. He's... not entirely surprised by the water bottle, his mother would do the same thing, and he'd taken notice of Iida presenting him with water bottles every other hour or so (how did he do that, anyway?), but something about the specific gesture in this case makes his whole body feel warm in a way he doesn't expect. He twists, curling back against him so that their bodies are flush together. "Okay," he says, craning his neck to kiss his jawline. "...sorry, I. We were getting handsy and then I started crying instead." He swallows, hovering near his face. "...can I kiss you again?"

The kiss is met with a soft sigh as Shouto leans into the touch, wrapping an arm around Izuku's waist as the smaller boy leans into him. He's not in any rush, but the contact is so nice, so comfortable, and he thinks that maybe Izuku feels the same way about it. It's reassuring, in a way he's not sure he ever expected. He already wants more of it.

"Handsy?" There's a faint note of something in his voice that could pass for amusement if you squint really hard, and affection that would take more work to miss than it does to notice. "I guess that's one way to put it." He was definitely getting handsy, at least. It's a soft look he gives Izuku as his thumb skims over the other's hip, head tilted a little to one side as he watches his face almost like he's memorizing it. "You can kiss me any time you want," he says after just a moment, eyes dropping to Izuku's mouth. Again, maybe a little too honest, too earnest, but he means it.

He laughs quietly, turning inward to hide from him for a moment, his ears going red. They've been bumping uglies half the evening, and words are what fluster him. "Yes, handsy," he reiterates, turning to look at him finally. His expression is soft, and he shifts to bump his hip into Shouto's hand a bit for emphasis.

"Good, 'cause I might just kiss you all the time," he says, surprisingly shy. "...if that's okay."

Of course words fluster him. Izuku's always full of words, so many words, words he loves hearing. Shouto doesn't have nearly as many of his own, but to know that some of his own words can do something like that--have that kind of power, make him blush--it's a heady feeling.

Part of him wants to say something about how he likes being handsy. About how he'd like to use his hands more, especially as Izuku shifts his hip into his hand like that. But instead, all he can do is feel the way his heart races when he looks at his best friend, the way it feels like there's something warm and glowing inside of him that only Izuku can give him. All he can do is lean in closer, eyes half-closed as he slips a gentle hand over Izuku's jaw to tilt his head a little more. "More than okay," he murmurs, eyes briefly opening to look into Izuku's. "I'd like that a lot. We could start now, even." After all, why wait? Izuku's mouth is right there, soft and warm and he's eager to have that taste on his lips again, now that the tears seem to have passed for the moment.

"Patience is a virtue, Shouto," he says, scrunching his nose from smiling too hard. Despite his words, he's looping his arms up around Shouto's neck again, tangling his fingers in his hair and not giving him a chance to retort before he's kissing him again, slow and gentle. He stays there, just barely touching for a moment, and then turns his head to curiously open his mouth and lay claim to Shouto's lower lip, biting gently.

The rest of him, on the other hand, shifts to curl closer still, slotting himself back to his side and tangling their legs back together-- seems like tangled was the way they'd always start out.

Probably for the best that Izuku goes ahead and kisses him, because he might have something to say about that. He can be patient, after all. Probably. Maybe. Then again, maybe not where Izuku is concerned. Who would want to be patient when they're both right there, still both half-dressed, and no one's likely to interrupt for hours at least?

Fortunately, he doesn't get more than a faint sound out before Izuku's kissing him again, and that sound is followed by a different sound--less grumble and much more moan--when he tilts his head, the sensation of teeth on his lower lip causing that warmth in his chest to thread lower. It's different, feeling it there as opposed to those same teeth light against his collarbone, though both are very good feelings. Ones he wouldn't mind more of.

Like this being tangled together. He likes the feeling of not quite knowing where he ends and Izuku begins, the fuzziness of losing himself in the kiss, and his mouth moves against Izuku's as he leans into the other boy, hand sliding over the small of his back and fingers slipping below the waistband of his shorts as he pulls him closer.

That sound is downright sinful, and there's a sudden pocket of heat behind Izuku's stomach from it, and he easily remembers just how handsy they'd gotten before his outburst. He really needed to stop losing wars with tears and cockteasing himself. He bites just a touch harder on Shouto's lip before releasing it, drawing away enough to smile through half-closed eyes and lean forward at the hand against the small of his back.

He quirks a mischievous eyebrow at the way Shouto's hand finds its way below his waistband. "See? Handsy," he breathes, curling and uncurling his fingers in his hair, lightly scratching blunted fingernails against his scalp a moment, before one travels down the column of his neck and to his shoulder, and then along his side, fingertips skating feather-light over his skin. His hand presses flat against the cinch of his waist, thumb drawing idle patterns at his last rib.

Unconsciously, his hips shift forward and he hooks one leg around Shouto's, rubbing forward and making a quiet sound of his own. "B-but, could always be moreso."

That harder bite gets another sound from Shouto, half surprised but not at all unhappy. In fact, it's even more wanton that the first one, and his hand slips lower as Izuku pulls back, fingers deliberately splaying to grip one surprisingly muscular buttock, leaning into the feeling of fingers against his scalp. "Could be moreso," he agrees, and there's the tiniest smile on his own face as he just outright gropes Izuku, lips brushing the other's as he leans in.

There's the faintest twitch before he kisses Izuku, though; a quick little intake of air, followed by a little huff as Izuku's thumb traces those patterns over his ribs. It feels good, but it also tickles a little, honestly, and there's a trace of something that could be laughter in his voice as he finally kisses the other boy again. "Looks like I'm not the only one getting handsy, either."

The sound Izuku makes is not unlike a squashed squeaktoy, though he exhales a moment later with a much less G-rated sound, skin hot with embarrassment. He's always known Shouto to be rather bold, but he figures he'd never quite expected to be on the receiving end of that. Much less his butt.

Of course, any embarrassment over being groped vanishes the moment he catches that mirth in Shouto's tone, and he hovers barely an inch from him, going slightly cross-eyed to look at him. "...Shouto," he tests carefully, drumming his fingertips lightly in the same spot.

"Are you ticklish?"

The squeak is unbearably adorable, but the sound that follows it is anything but. In fact, it's incredibly hot, and Shouto can almost hear the rush of endorphins as he practically feels it in his bones.

Unfortunately, even his hand down Izuku's pants doesn't seem to be distracting him, and this time that twitch is even more noticeable under the other boy's drumming fingers, Shouto curling slightly and moving his arm inward, an almost defensive gesture. Ticklish? Very, and that husky laughter is even more evident in his voice as he avoids eye contact.

"Maybe a little...?"

Come on, Izuku, don't take advantage!

It's distracting, absolutely, just not quite enough to keep him off the prize of Shouto's laughter. The smile that crosses his features is absolutely melted, right at first, his features scrunching up as his lips pull away from his teeth and he folds forward to bump their foreheads together.

"That's adorable," he breathes, kissing his lips lightly. "And probably dangerous, and I'm going to file it away for later when you least expect it. You have the cutest laugh." Rest in pepperoni, Todoroki Shouto.

"You're adorable." The words are out before he even realizes he's thinking them, but he refuses to take them back, especially with Izuku smiling at him like that. Although there may be a slight flush spreading over his cheeks, anyway. A cute laugh? He thinks Shouto has a cute laugh. Dangerous, though...well, there's worse things than your--hm. Well, whatever Izuku is, right now, learning you're ticklish and delivering the most unintimidating threat you've ever heard. Definitely worse things. Leaning in, he kisses the other boy again, and once more for good measure.

"As long as you keep my secret, it'll be fine, probably."

Hm, indeed. That... was probably a conversation for later, which promised to be full of long-winded stuttered mumbling for them doing what they had without really discussing what they were. They'd expressed there were feelings, at least, but... Gosh, way to do things out of order.

He chitters his own little laugh, the sound something like a windchime, and nods.

"Only if you promise to laugh more."

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