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Local Dumpster Fire Didn't Try, Still Got Laid

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Hizashi always despairs whenever he’s faced with the realities of Shouta’s wardrobe. He's got the means to style himself, now that they're both full-time heroes, but he still wraps himself in rags no matter the occasion.

“It’s such a waste!” he says, gesturing accusingly at Shouta’s everything as he stands in the doorway of said man’s apartment, blocking him from leaving.

Shouta looks down at his body with obvious confusion. “We’re just going to the convenience store to grab drinks.”

“We’re going outside! In public!” Hizashi waves his arms, as though maybe if he flails enough, Shouta will actually get it. “The pants, I could maybe just barely accept if we ignore the fact that the elastic in the waistband died years ago, but that shirt is an affront to every sense that I possess.”

“It’s soft.” Shouta says, frowning in a disgruntled way that makes him look exactly like one of his cats. It’s adorable, but Hizashi has seen it before, and he’s going to stay strong. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his nose up.

“My reputation as a style icon will dive straight into the gutter if I’m seen associating with someone wearing clothing this ratty.”

“What makes this ratty? It's clean, and black doesn't clash with anything. Isn't that enough?”

“It’s older than God, and it’s more hole than material.” Hizashi pokes a finger through one of the many points of ventilation in the hem of the shirt.

Shouta’s eyes narrow. “Well, if holes are the only problem, there’s an easy way to kill two birds with one stone.”

“Wha-” Hizashi starts to ask, but Shouta has already spun on his heel and stalked over to his work desk to snag a pair of scissors. Before Hizashi can say anything, he pulls off his shirt and cuts off the bottom half.

“There.” Shouta pulls it back on with a huff. “Is this okay now?”

“You... “ Hizashi, for once, has no words.

“Unless I misheard you raving about them on your show, crop tops are in at the moment.” Shouta plants his hands on his hips, tipping his chin up with a stubborn set to his jaw. “So, can we leave already? I’m drowning in sweat, and if I don’t get something cold to drink, I’m going to die.”

“Sure?” Hizashi squeaks out.

It’s not that he’s mad at Shouta’s fashion choices, because crop tops are in, and that shirt does look good styled like this, but… that’s the problem, actually.

Shouta looks too good.

Eraserhead’s style of combat is very physical, and Hizashi has always known that Shouta is strong. It’s one thing to know your friend has muscles, though, and quite another to see them, especially when the last time you saw him shirtless was when you were both pale, skinny teenagers in high school gym class. Shouta’s core is rock solid, and Hizashi can't stop staring at the definition of his abs, the sharp cut of his hips, the inviting trail of hair that spreads from his belly-button down below his waistband.

“Lead the way!” Hizashi says with an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. Maybe if he lets Shouta go first, he'll have a chance to clear his head?

Only, that plan doesn't work at all. Shouta's well-worn sweatpants sling low on his hips and, to Hizashi's horror, the swell of his ass makes the view from the back just as attractive as the front.

None of this is supposed to be happening.

This is Shouta, the dumpster fire who once wore the same shirt four days in a row because it “didn't smell too bad”, and he couldn't be bothered to do laundry.

He's never once been classified as hot in an "I wanna hit that" way in Hizashi's mind.

And yet.

Hizashi feels like he's robbed a bank or shoved an old lady into traffic with how looking at Shouta is making him feel. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and fires a frantic text to the one person who he can depend on.




Almost immediately, Kayama replies.


2:05:56 ok whats the emergency


She's a good friend.




Then, the man in question glances at him over his shoulder.

“You all right?”

“Yeah!” Hizashi manages to fake a smile as he waves his phone at Shouta. “Just got some work stuff that I have to take care of real quick!”

“... Okay.”

The moment Shouta turns back around, Hizashi scans his phone for Kayama's response.


2:07:37 lol is that news?


Well, maybe she's not such a good friend.

Hizashi frowns as he texts.




2:13:03 idk why you took so long to notice but yeah your bff is a hot hot tater tot

2:13:24 what are you gonna do about it?


2:14:11 What’s that supposed to mean?


2:15:35 it means: has springtime finally come to the erasermic household?

2:16:03 come on i have money riding on this


Hizashi stares at his phone, then shoves it into his back pocket with force. He doesn't have the ability to deal with this level of betrayal right now.

Only, the alternative is dealing with Shouta’s newly revealed ability to make Hisashi weak in the knees.


At least they've made it to the store.

He and Shouta head to the beverage coolers and, for once, it's a relief when one of the other customers at the store recognises Hizashi as Present Mic. He puts on his “talking to the public” face and happily throws himself into the small crowd that gathers. He signs a few autographs, takes a selfie with a group of giggling middle-schoolers, and lets himself be distracted from his unsettling revelations about his best friend.

The best friend who he’s definitely not still following out of the corner of his eye as he peruses the goods in the store. No, not Hizashi. Hizashi is firmly focussed on pleasing his fanbase.

Well, he is up until there aren’t any more to please.

When his beloved listeners disperse, Shouta is still there, leaning against the store counter with a bored expression on his face.

“Took you long enough,” he says, but there’s a faint upturn to his lips that means that he’s not mad as much as he’s just resigned about the whole thing.

“Sorry, sorry!” Hizashi apologizes anyway, snagging Shouta's unopened drink from his hand. “Here, my treat today.”

“Hn.” Shouta smirks, then slides another one of the store's coolers open. “If you're really feeling bad enough to pay, I'm getting a popsicle too.”

“Brat,” Hizashi says fondly, but hands the money over to the cashier anyway.

It doesn't occur to him how bad of an idea that is until they're three blocks away from the store.

With the exception of hero work, Shouta takes everything at a slow pace, and eating is no exception. As he savours his cold treat, it starts melting in the heat of the summer sun. Hizashi can't help but follow the run-off with his eyes as it slowly trickles down Shouta's wrist.

If he had a hard time not staring at Shouta just walking down the street, it's even harder when the man is sucking on a strawberry ice, lips glossy and red.

“You want some?” Shouta asks abruptly, offering his dessert Hizashi's way in a surprising show of generosity.

“What?” Hizashi waves his hands awkwardly. “No! No, it's ok!”

“Right.” Shouta smirks. After a few more steps, he drawls, “Because it’s just pure coincidence that you look like my cat does when she knows dinnertime is coming up.”

He shouldn’t think that Shouta’s sardonic expression is sexy, but what’s one more uncomfortable revelation on top of the other bombs that have dropped on him today?

“Uh.” Hizashi winces internally when his voice comes out more creaky than normal. “You're just, uh. Dripping?”

“Oh?” Shouta blinks and twists his arm to peer at the melting trail of liquid that's crawled down from his sweet. “Huh.”

And then he licks the entire length of his wrist and palm, tongue a bright flicker of pink against the pale of his skin.

Hizashi feels his soul exit his body, not quite strangling the gut punch of a noise that wrenches out of his throat.

Shouta pauses mid-lick, glancing up at the sound, then narrowing his eyes when their gazes meet. He finishes licking and swallows, all without breaking eye contact.

Despite the oppressive heat, Hizashi feels a cold shiver down his spine.

“Huh.” Shouta says as he wipes himself dry on his pants.

“H-huh?” Hizashi asks, dazed.

“I just noticed something,” Shouta says with a shrug. His eyes flick away, a signal that he's decided to drop the subject.

On one hand, Hizashi really wants to ask. On the other hand, he really doesn’t.

They walk the last few blocks to the apartment in silence as Shouta methodically laps up the rest of his popsicle and Hizashi tries to hold together the shattered pieces of his sanity.

It’s not until they get back to his place that Shouta speaks up again. He's dropping his licked-clean stick in the kitchen trash when he says, “So, now that I’ve finished my treat, I have to ask...”

Abruptly, Hizashi finds himself cornered against the counter and realizes that he’s been outmaneuvered. Shouta is leaning forward with one arm on either side of him in the most casual kabedon Hizashi has ever experienced in his life. He suddenly understands why the move is a staple of romance tropes, because his heart is hammering in his throat as Shouta’s voice lowers to a purr.

"If you didn't want a taste of the popsicle, what did you want?"

“U-um!” It’s fantastically difficult to put a straight thought together when Shouta is right in front of him, lips red-stained and shiny, and Hizashi can’t stop looking at them.

Which Shouta notices, of course. He has a gleam in his eye as he drawls, “Thought so.”

He leans in, and fuck, strawberry has never tasted so good as it does on Shouta’s lips. Hizashi chases the taste, licking at the seam of his mouth, and Shouta opens for him with a sigh, stretching up on his toes to press even closer. Hizashi can feel the heat of Shouta’s body through the thin barrier of their shirts and reaches around to press a hand to the small of his back. Only, instead of fabric, he feels hot, sweat-damp skin under his palm, courtesy of Shouta's new goddamn crop top.

Hizashi whines and lets his knees fall open so that he can urge Shouta into the space between them. Nothing matters more than closing the gap between their bodies, than feeling his pecs flex as they press up against Hizashi's chest. They continue to trade sticky, sugar-sweet kisses, until they're forced to break apart, panting for breath in the humid air.

"Why haven't we done this before?" Hizashi asks with incredulous shock, shoving his hair behind his ears from where it’s fallen into his face as he tries to get his bearings.

Shouta shrugs and looks down, hiding behind his bangs. “You weren't interested before.”

His cheeks are flushed, and Hizashi can tell it's not just from the heat. It only takes a beat to unravel the implication that he's been waiting for Hizashi to be interested, possibly for some time now.

“Wait, have you been pining over me?” Hizashi's grin stretches so wide that the corners of his mouth start to hurt.

Shouta flinches back in alarm, stepping out of Hizashi's embrace. “We're not talking about this.”

“No, hey! Come back here!” Hizashi catches Shouta by the hips and tugs him back. “You had a secret crush on me! That’s so cute!”

“I’m not cute!” Shouta tries to wiggle free out of annoyance, but he's not trying very hard, and he settles when Hizashi nips at his chin.

“Okay, you're not cute,” he says, as he kisses his way up Shouta's jaw, curbing his enthusiasm in order to keep from scaring Shouta away. “But you’re hot as fuck, and I wanna come all over your abs, then smear it in. Can I?”

“Fuck.” Shouta grabs Hizashi’s face and drags him into a kiss as he rolls their hips together, and the friction sets stars off in Hizashi's vision.

“Ah, right ther--!!”

Hizashi cuts off with a hiccup and stares over Shouta’s shoulder.

“Uh.” Shouta glances down. “Did you...?” He makes a vague hand gesture downwards, and when he gets what Shouta’s implying, Hizashi gives him a dirty look.

“Hey! I’m not fourteen!” Hizashi waves behind Shouta. “No, it’s your cat! The white one?”

“Shit, Fuwafuwa?” Truly concerned now, in a way only a cat-dad can be, Shouta cranes his head around to look. “Did she get into the garbage again?”

“No, she’s just … staring.” Hizashi shrinks down, as if to hide behind Shouta. “It’s really weird.”

“Oh. Uh, just ignore her?” Shouta tightens his hands on Hizashi’s hips and leans back in for a kiss. It’s hot, but Hizashi really can’t with this situation. He turns his head so that Shouta’s lips catch his cheek, and frowns.

“Look, voyeurism is not my kink.” He grimaces. “Why won’t she go away?”

Shouta sighs and exasperatedly mouths at Hizashi’s jaw. “Because we’re standing too close to her water dish, and she’s offended. Look, just--”

Without warning, Shouta cuts himself off with a disgruntled noise, grabs two handfuls of Hizashi’s ass, and picks Hizashi up.

“Ack!” Hizashi instinctively wraps his legs around Shouta’s waist as he strangles a probably-too-loud yelp.

“If we get out of her way, she’ll leave us alone.”

And in a few short strides, Shouta has carried Hizashi out of the kitchen and dropped him onto the faded brown cushions of the well-worn living room couch, leaving Hizashi torn between annoyance and arousal.

See, Hizashi is a pro-hero who wears leather and studs, who tops six feet tall even without the spire of his hair adding to his height. His physical stature combined with the force of his personality and his quirk, means that he does not usually feel delicate. Right now, though? Right now, with Shouta manhandling him like he weighs nothing, he feels positively dainty, and that’s a hell of an unexpected turn on.

“There. No more voyeur cat.” Shouta says, and he’s so smug that Hizashi’s brain decides that he can be frustrated and turned on all at once.

“You fucking asshole! Warn me next time you’re going to toss me around like that!” Growling, Hizashi yanks Shouta’s hips to meet his, because there’s no point in dealing with kink revelations when he can be rocking up and grinding their dicks together through their clothes. “Ugh, whatever. Help me undo my pants. My dick is going to have an imprint of my zipper on it if I don't free it.”

Shouta hums into the kiss and tries to pop the button of Hizashi’s shorts one handed. It doesn’t work.

“Why do you have to wear your pants so tight?” he hisses as he pulls away, sitting back on his knees so that he can attack the situation with both hands.

“I wear pants that fit. Just because you can’t undo a button- fuck!” Hizashi cuts off his ranting with a curse when Shouta finally struggles his fly open and pulls his cock out.

“Whatever.” Shouta pumps Hizashi’s cock a few times, seeming to be getting used to the feel of it in his hand before he pulls his own out with an easy tug on his waistband. “Score one for my ratty sweatpants.”

“If we were talking about ease of access, skirts still have them beat, and they’re also more fashionable,” Hizashi grumbles, but his heart isn’t in it. His head is tipped back into the couch cushions and he’s mostly babbling out of instinct, trying to cover how turned on he is by the almost-too-rough rasp of Shouta’s calluses on his cock.

The couch creaks as Shouta shifts his weight, moving forward to stretch out over Hizashi now that he’s finished pushing clothes around.

“Skirts are too fussy. I can wear sweatpants even when it’s windy.”

“Sweatpants aren’t sexy!” Hizashi shoves his hands down the back of said unsexy sweatpants, groping Shouta’s ass with enough force to make him moan. “Hell, how do you have such a perfect butt?”

“It’s called squats, Hizashi. You’d have an ass too, if you stopped skipping leg day.” But Shouta sounds more bashful than frustrated, so Hizashi just rolls his eyes and pulls him down, pulls him closer, then kisses him quiet. He chases the faint trace of strawberry that lingers in Shouta’s mouth, sliding their tongues together first to taste, and then for the sheer pleasure of the sensation.

There’s something inside of him that settles when Shouta sighs against his lips, something small and soft and warm nestled in his chest that starts to purr. He doesn’t want to think too hard about what it is, not right now, but he’s happy to indulge it by spreading his hands over Shouta’s back, digging his fingers into the corded muscle between his shoulder blades.

“You feel so good, Shouta,” he murmurs against Shouta’s mouth, laughing at the pained noise his friend makes when he breaks the kiss. “Again: how the hell did it take us this long to do this?”

“You’re oblivious, and I’m a coward. Didn’t we already go over that?” Shouta gives Hizashi’s lip a scolding nip. “Stop saying unnecessary things.”

“We both know that I’m incapable of shutting up.” Hizashi sticks his tongue out, then pulls it back in quickly when Shouta threatens to bite him again. “Aw, come on! Don’t you wanna hear me moaning your name?” He puts on his very best sex face, biting his lip and tipping his chin so that he can look up at Shouta through his eyelashes. “Oh Shou-chan!” He moans, low and sultry, and he honestly meant it as a joke, but Shouta’s eyes narrow, and his whole body goes completely, utterly still.

“If you do that again,” Shouta growls, “I’m going to wreck you, Hizashi.”

“Yeah? I thought that was the goal from the start?” Hizashi grins, baring his teeth aggressively even as he’s tipping his head back, the arch of his neck a come on of its own. “Come on, Shou-chan.”

He repeats his seductive call of Shouta’s name, then gasps and groans for real when Shouta lunges in and bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to leave a bruise.

“Oh!” Hizashi’s nails dig into Shouta’s back in response, earning him what sounds like a surprised grunt and another bite for his trouble.

Things go a little hazy from there. Hizashi's world narrows to snapshots of Shouta's body moving against his, to big hands pushing his shirt up and rubbing at his nipples, to the silken rub of his cock against Shouta's as he marks up Hizashi's neck with sharp, biting kisses. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath in the humid air, panting as he and Shouta move against each other.

“Fucking hell. Oh hell YEAH!”

Hizashi loses control of his quirk on that last syllable, and the windows rattle ominously in their frames. He doesn't care, but Shouta obviously does, because when they next lock eyes, his gaze is glowing red.

"Don't you dare lose me my security deposit," he hisses, hair rising up around his head in a way that sometimes makes Hizashi think of seaweed caught in the waves when he's not distracted by being desperately turned on.

"If you want me to stop screaming, put your back into it and make me come already!” Instead of being cowed by Shouta's posturing, Hizashi bucks his hips up and snarls a challenge. “I'm so close! Give it to me, Shouta!"

He claws at Shouta's shoulders to emphasize his point, and with a low, hungry sound, Shouta reaches between them to fist both of their cocks in his hand. There's no slow build up here, not with how gone they both are. His hand pumps at a rapid, uneven pace, grip just this side of too tight, but for how slick they both are with precome and sweat.

"Shouta, I'm gonna-" There’s a hitch in Hizashi’s voice as he struggles for air around the thunderclap of arousal that’s paralyzed his lungs. He thinks he manages half of a quivering whine at best, but then he’s startled back down when he feels Shouta’s whole body go tense.

“Hizashi!” He moans and spends himself in hot stripes all over Hizashi's cock and thighs, careless of the mess he’s making. It's disgusting and sticky and so sexy that Hizashi feels like his spine has melted into lava.

"Shit!" Hizashi grabs for his erection, batting Shouta's loosening hand away, and it only takes a few frantic pulls before his eyes roll back and he's coming too, adding to the mess splattered on his skin as a heavy wave of satisfaction crashes through his body.

When his vision comes back into focus, Shouta is still braced over him, staring down at Hizashi with the strangest look on his face. His eyes are soft, lips slack, as if he's looking at something precious, something rare and wonderful. He looks so raw and unguarded that it makes something in Hizashi's chest ache.

"Hey," Hizashi says, pasting on a smile to cover his sudden feelings of vulnerability. He reaches up and arches his back in a languid stretch, just for something to do with his hands. "See something you like?"

Shouta blinks down at him, and then somehow his expression becomes even more tender.

"Yeah, you," he says, blunt as ever. It's such a cliche thing to say, but for some reason Hizashi finds himself blushing even as he scoffs.

"Stop being so cheesy! I can't deal with mushy feelings when I'm a sweaty, filthy mess."

"You always make a big deal out of problems that are so easy to solve," mumbles Shouta as he slides down Hizashi's body. Hizashi's face goes even more hot when Shouta laps up some of the come pooled on his stomach.

"Better?" Shouta raises an eyebrow, and Hizashi's brain is so utterly blank that he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'm still dirty."

A quiet laugh tickles its way over Hizashi's stomach.

"Yeah, ok," Shouta says with a smile, then he sets himself to licking Hizashi clean. It's like all the air in the room has rushed away. Light-headed, Hizashi takes in the wet glide of Shouta's mouth, watches Shouta drag the flat of his tongue over his skin, and does his best to burn the image into his brain.

When Shouta finishes by sucking a kiss on the crest of Hizashi's hip, he looks up, then smirks at the expression on Hizashi's face.


"Yeah," Hizashi says distractedly, more intent on grabbing Shouta to pull him up and kiss him. The lingering echo of sugar is overlaid with the salt-bitter of come, and Hizashi's dick is twitching, doing it's best to rise even though he came moments ago.

Something in his chest settles in a contented, indulgent way when he starts to lean back and Shouta follows him, stealing one last press of lips before he lets Hizashi break the kiss.

It’s too hot to be this close together. Sweat is starting to trickle down the back of Hizashi's neck, soaking into the arm of the couch behind his head. He feels gross, but not enough that he's going to tell Shouta to move. The damp is far outweighed by the tingly flutter in his chest that he feels having Shouta draped over him, already starting to doze.

"You really need to get your air conditioning fixed," he mutters, pushing a sweat-soaked lock of hair off Shouta's forehead. "And I guess we should also talk about this sometime too, maybe."

Shouta doesn't raise his head from Hizashi's shoulder when he grumbles, "Sure, but can I nap for ten minutes or a year or so, first?"

With a snort, Hizashi resigns himself to being comfortably uncomfortable until Shouta's had a nap.

"Geez, Shou-chan," he yawns, then lets his arm dangle off the side of the couch in a vain attempt to help himself stay cool. "You're lucky you're pretty."

Shouta hums, but doesn't respond, already falling asleep. Hizashi huffs and pretends that he's not smiling as he runs his fingers through his hair.