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The trip of the three.
According to Iida and Yaoyorozu, they should have given a better name to that trip, to that group! However, "trip of the three" was what Shōto marked on his phone calendar, and so it stayed. It was the road trip they had planned for a while, but always canceled due to extra work at school or internships supervised by pro heroes. During that month of vacation, however, at the beginning of summer break, they could finally enjoy the long-awaited freedom within a 3-day period, at a safe hotel where Iida could drive them, and where each of their parents was, curiously but not impossibly, a shareholder.
Bags ready and in the convertible car, they got ready to leave. Shōto with a sun hat covering him almost entirely, sunscreen to the extreme, the deliberate use was more than encouraged by Iida, who had remembered to bring some for everyone! Momo wore denim shorts, ballet flats, and a cotton shirt where the neckline was modest but her arms were exposed. She sat up front with Iida, while Shōto threw himself into the back seat, almost lying down with his backpack still between his legs. Momo's backpack served almost as a pillow, and Iida's lay under his feet as he sprawled comfortably there.
"Ready? Did you check the list of what to bring? Didn't forget anything?" Iida was almost a walking checklist. He just needed to pull out a notepad and pen from his pocket to mark off completed tasks. Momo messed up her friend's well-trimmed hair while nodding and telling him to relax.
"Yaoyorozu is right, relax. Besides, if we forget something, we won't be on another continent, Iida. We're just crossing the bridge to a small island. We'll be, literally, just a few hours from home. Anything we might forget, we can buy there if necessary." He was visibly more relaxed, maybe it was the Hawaiian print shirt he had received as a gift that he was now wearing, maybe it was because he knew that getting away a little was healthy, was good.
Iida, like Shōto, wore shorts, but Iida's legs stood out much more due to the jets on his calves, or simply because they were much more muscular than Shōto's. Not that anyone had noticed that yet, but maybe by the end of that little adventure someone would.
Indeed, just a few hours by car was what separated them from home. On the way, Yaoyorozu was not only the co-pilot but also the DJ. The playlist had been put together back home: "vacation&fun," available on Spotify. It would have been a shock if they didn't already know that Jiro and even Uraraka had influenced Momo's classical music taste during those months of living together. The eclectic taste was not a problem: 1- Iida had no musical prejudice; 2- Shōto was not paying the slightest attention to what the radio was echoing, only partially noticing the landscape gradually change from tall buildings to the sea, the bridge, and then the small island covered with coconut trees and other tall trees, an enviable vegetation.
At the hotel, they divided up easily; Yaoyorozu in a room all to herself, on the same hallway, in the door ahead to the left. The boys in a connected suite, the kind where the bathroom was the dividing line between one room and another. Each still had their own privacy.
"Shower and rest itinerary!" Iida commented as he finished placing Momo's suitcase on the sofa at the foot of his friend's bed. Shōto was leaning against the doorframe keeping the door open, not wanting to be intrusive in his friend's privacy.
"Rest itinerary?" His eyebrow arched instinctively, who makes a rest itinerary? Of course! Iida!! "I don't need an itinerary for that, it's a shower and literally, rest. Sitting in those beach chairs that look very uncomfortable and finding out they're actually good. Keeping this hat on my head to hide my face from the sun, and staying there, enjoying the waves with my eyes closed and face covered."
Momo laughed, Iida gestured, as usual, refuting each of Shōto's words, except the claim that the chairs were, surprisingly comfortable, that he kept and affirmed! The rest? Refuted and set aside, in parts. Shower, check, beach chairs, check, walking along the shore with feet in the sand, check to Shōto's despair, but not for giving up on that trip of the three.
He went to the room, Iida entered through the other door, there were those double doors like a closet, when opened they gave access to the other's room, and they were open. That way they could still talk before Iida decided he would shower first and then go out to the hotel reception to rent the jeep for transportation on the island. They closed the double doors and Shōto sat on the bed finally unlocking his phone screen since he had locked it upon getting in the car. Two notifications: Fuyumi was the sender of one, Natsuo the other. They wished him a good trip and good rest; he knew what his siblings meant by that simple act. He agreed with them, although his relationship with his father was improving absurdly, vacation was still something desired. He took off his shoes, sprawled on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, the phone tucked under the pillow on the right side of that large bed. When the sound of the shower ended and he heard the door on the other side being opened, he dragged himself across the bed, opening the bathroom door from his side, still catching a blurred glimpse of Iida wrapped in a towel, he didn't see much, nor did he question why the hot water in that summer, that information was not his concern.
He showered in cold water, there was still a certain fear, all the dread of hot water, boiling... lukewarm. Always avoided.
He came out wrapped in a towel, one over his shoulders to catch the drops dripping from his freshly washed hair. He dried his face with the edge of it, the sunlight streaming through the window near his bed and he sat there for a few minutes appreciating the yellow glow on the water so blue. The knocks on the door brought him back to the moment, as did Iida's voice indicating he was going out to rent the jeep, he would be back soon to pick them up to follow the rest itinerary. He didn't know why, but his lips curled up in a spontaneous smile. He touched his lips aware of what had happened, without yet understanding what had led him to it. He dressed casually as he had dressed for the beginning of that trip, shorts and a ridiculous floral shirt, but comfortable and clearly with a vacation print to get into the mood.
He met Momo in the hallway; a light dress and flip-flops, her hair tied in a casual side braid.
Iida was already waiting for them in the driver's seat of that open jeep; twill shorts, boat shoes and a polo shirt, not much different from usual. Blue as deep as the class representative's hair color. Shōto now noticed more, since he had started noticing him when he came out wrapped and blurred from the shower, not that he should pay attention, but he did for peace of mind now that his friend was properly dressed and clear.
Yaoyorozu went to the back seat, the open jeep was a risk for the dress she was wearing, in the back seat there was more security, more closed parts so the dress wouldn't flutter beyond what was acceptable. Shōto sat in the passenger seat next to Iida. When he started the engine, it was up to Shōto to be poked by Momo to remember to turn on the radio. He stayed attentive after that, his eyes on the dirt road while Tenya took them closer to the seaside on that private hotel beach.
Contrary to the itinerary dictated by Iida, upon arriving at the shore he did come across a trail they should walk, and barefoot! But he noticed it was something like an initiation into that little piece of paradise and peace. They left their shoes in the jeep, Yaoyorozu excitedly closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she buried her toes in the white sand, Iida followed her and Shōto did the same so as not to stand out from his friends. They walked as a trio, side by side on that wide trail adorned with torches to light the way, even with the sun still bathing the light sands warming them in that peaceful summer.
When the trail came to an end, they came across small bar tables here and there, arranged to maintain the privacy of those using them, but keeping the group close and united. Reclining chairs, a large sunshade, there were drinks in coconuts and pineapples, little umbrellas on the straws for decoration, Yaoyorozu helped herself to one, a multicolored glass in shades of orange, red and yellow, like the sunset on the beach. Shōto waited for her to take the first sip, when she commented it was sweet, he decided to try one of the other drinks, he picked something with green leaves and lots of ice, he couldn't go wrong!
He did, but that was a detail to be dealt with later, the reason why.
In fact, everyone's drink had a problem, but they would only find out later. Maybe by the fifth or eighth drink, when Yaoyorozu started to hiccup and Iida instead of intervening with some logical solution, laughed.
"Wait, wait..." she touched the waiter's arm who was serving them, she was curious, although a little forgetful of what she was going to ask. "What is this I'm drinking, that we're drinking?" She pointed first to her little umbrella, then to Shōto's short glass and Iida's in a pineapple.
"The young lady chose well, yours is a sex on the beach; a sweet mix of ice, currant syrup, orange juice and of course, plenty of peach liqueur and lots of vodka." He smiled and then looked at Shōto's glass. "Yours is a mojito, refreshing. Soda, a little sugar, lime, mint leaves and a generous shot of white rum to keep that translucent color." Still smiling he turned to see what Iida was drinking. "And in my opinion, one of the best choices, always: Piña Colada. Pineapple juice, coconut milk, condensed milk and clear, rum."
With a bow, he stepped away leaving new drinks for them, taking the empty glasses and pineapple.
It took half a second for them to look at each other, and for Iida to grab Shōto's wrist as he was already bringing the drink to his mouth, sucking through the straw as if the waiter had informed them they were drinking water or juice instead of those alcoholic bombs.
A look of pure curiosity, his tongue still escaping from the corner of his mouth to suck the little straw, forcing Iida to pull Shōto's arm down even further.
"Hey."
"Didn't you hear what he just said?"
"As if we haven't already drunk plenty of that."
"Exactly, we already drank plenty! Even beyond what we should have, which, in case you didn't know, would be nothing."
Okay, Iida had a point, but when his wrist was free, Shoto took a sip anyway, after all, he was thirsty.
"Shōto!"
"I was thirsty, and Momo also took another sip!"
In the friends' confusion and distraction, Yaoyorozu had indeed drunk a little more of that colorful drink.
"What was the name again?" She asked between a brief hiccup.
"Sex on the beach."
He blushed. He had answered so quickly that he blushed with that sound flowing loudly from his lips, he cleared his throat and, like his friends, leaned back in his chair and took a sip, forgetting what had been raised moments ago; there was alcohol in those drinks!
"What is sex on the bitch?" Shoto commented still looking at his drink.
"BEACH!" Iida corrected as quickly as he could, remembering Present Mic's classes, English flowed well for him, he had ease, Shōto didn't seem so connected to that subject. But he corrected him before anyone there heard him, a wrong pronunciation changed everything!
From Shōto's confused face, he hadn't understood the difference. He didn't want, however, to speak out loud when there was a young lady among them, even if Momo went back to being distracted by the drink in question. He leaned to the side, a little forward, he didn't notice that to get Shōto's attention he needed to touch his knee under the table. He found himself targeted by those eyes of distinct coloration and swallowed hard before wetting his mouth and speaking:
"The name of the drink translated is, Sex on the beach. But you pronounced bitch instead of beach. Beach is praia, bitch... let's just say it's not." He hadn't noticed that his hand was still grazing Shōto's skin, he hadn't noticed that his phalanges had tensed as he squeezed his knee. He could say it was the alcohol's fault in his system, that was it, just that! Surely it was!
"Sex on the beach?" Shōto's eyebrow arched, Iida noticed when he wet his lips, how he looked at the sand behind him and came back with his lower lip bitten. "Who would give a name like that to a drink?"
He shrugged, there were names that sometimes made him embarrassed to think about. Lucky that English classes at school didn't bring such explicit content.
When he did that, he finally noticed that his hand was sweating in contact with Shōto's warm skin, he pulled away as if touching embers, which was equivalent, since Shōto had overheated.
"Sorry" he murmured an apology while taking a good gulp of the remaining drink in his pineapple. At that point, the alcohol seemed like the least of his problems, he hadn't noticed that it was with its help that he had noticed certain peculiarities in Todoroki Shōto.
"I think we should go back." Yaoyorozu stood up, soon pressing her palms on the table, the dizziness from standing up too quickly. "While we still can, and it will have to be on foot, none of us can drive that jeep."
Certainly a person who knew how to make decisions!
On the way, Yaoyorozu linked her arms, one with Iida, and the other with Shōto. The walk was slow, but they arrived safe and sound, although not sober and even the walk didn't bring the necessary oxygenation to the bloodstream bombarded by something they weren't used to.
They said goodbye to her. Shōto opened the door and moved his arm indicating for Iida to enter, even though his friend had in his hands the card that gave access to his room, through his own door, and not through that one of the double room. He didn't even notice that upon entering, of course. He simply entered Shōto's room, saw the made bed, the open suitcase on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, swallowed hard and headed to the double door that would lead to his room.
"Iida..." he waited for him to turn and face him. He closed the door and leaned against it, his bare foot against the door, the sole of his foot against the calf of the other leg. "You didn't tell me what the error of the other word was." There was genuine curiosity, he just hadn't insisted before because his mind had, along with his body, overheated with Iida's large hand on his knee. Which, by the way, shouldn't awaken that kind of reaction, right? He was altered by that rum, that was it. Just as his mind didn't connect the word to the simple translation in his mind. He knew what he had said wrong, normally, without a single drop of alcohol in his system, he would have understood what he had pronounced before.
He stayed close to the double door, brought his right hand to the collar of his polo shirt, pulling it somewhat uncomfortably, apparently not even the alcohol in his system left him free from the discomfort of saying those words out loud, but he would try.
"Bitch means... whore." There was a pause before saying that word, one where his lips were licked by his tongue and nibbled by his teeth briefly, like a mantra to expel that small word so dissonant from his personality.
Shōto laughed.
"Ah, my sentence sounded horrible then."
The smile was beautiful, Iida hadn't seen many of those; smiles, you know?! Not from Shōto, at least. He didn't see his friend so light, maybe the drink had helped, but he had noticed a touch of difference since Shōto got in that car, he knew about the improving situation in the Todoroki family's coexistence.
He approached, forgetting he was heading to his room. Shōto moved away from the door following in his direction, they met in the middle, and sat on the double bed as if it were something customary. His hand landed on top of his, a miscalculation, he was reaching for the bed. He turned his face too quickly, his glasses slipped down his nose a little and Shōto put them back in place, his cold hand in contact with the top of his nose, and then on the side of his face, checking if the glasses leg was well fitted behind his ear. He swallowed hard, his vision was still blurry from the sudden movement and his head was spinning, he knew it was the alcohol.
While one cold hand touched him, his hand clung to the warmth of Shōto's other hand, he felt his fingers intertwine with his, like intruders with a will of their own! His face tilted toward the contact of that hand, that thumb touching his chin, and then his lower lip awakening an absurd desire to open his lips and sip that phalanx with his tongue. And he did it, restrained, but he did it. As he moistened his lips he licked Shōto's thumb, felt the left side, the one closer to his body, since they were sitting side by side on that bed, warm up a little more.
It was the alcohol.
It was the alcohol.
It was the alcohol!
He didn't know the side effects of drinking, but part of him indicated that: doing something he had no desire to do whatsoever, was not among the effects. He heard many stories that alcohol disinhibited people's desires, but forced them willingly into something? Without someone else inducing it? Never!
He slid his hand up Shōto's arm, the hairs standing on end with his touch, when he reached his nape, he didn't know what else to do but pull him into a kiss. So hot and somewhat awkward, lips pressed against his and then a tongue that snaked around his lips wanting passage into his mouth, and he gave in. He moaned half ecstatic, exasperated by what he was doing, although his mind was still spinning, perhaps even more than before the kiss. But it was good, the softness of Shōto's lips. He remembered, like a movie, the time he had seen him come out of the locker room with a towel, he now remembered with rich detail the way his hand had tingled, as if longing to touch something, now he knew what. It was the same tingling he felt now as he pressed his fingers against his nape feeling the hair interlace between his phalanges, pulling it a little as he deepened the kiss, as he leaned over him, laying him almost completely on that bed, were it not for his elbows holding him up to keep from falling.
He pulled away a little, he had crossed all limits!
When he was almost away from Shōto's body, he held him by the shirt, pulling him again until their lips met again, until his body once again weighed over his in that somewhat crooked position, but still comfortable.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself. When his glasses fell again, Shōto set them aside on the bed, one leg around Iida's waist, resting on his back always pulling him closer while the kisses continued on lips and necks, marking, sucking and biting.
Perhaps later they wouldn't know how to explain how they had gotten there, but at that moment they didn't want to know how they got there, they just wanted to continue.
Before, of course, it went further, they separated. The stupor of the alcohol made them act lightly, although still embarrassed when Iida said goodbye, opening the double door and going to his room. He was, again, the first to shower, however, it wasn't quick, and Shōto knew when he used the bathroom afterwards, that the shower had been cold. Just like his. Unfortunately, the cold shower wasn't so effective in lowering his erection, nor his body temperature, the fire side seemed to have centralized and expanded. He had trouble sleeping, he liked to lie on his stomach, but it was unfeasible in the current situation. He turned to his side then, looking at the sea through the bedroom window, knowing that Iida was right next door.
When the sun rose, Iida got up, showered quickly and dressed to run on the beach. Shōto had coffee with Yaoyorozu, she noticed the marks on his neck, but said nothing. However, when she saw Iida return from the beach wet from a dip or several, she noticed similar marks on her other friend's neck.
"Shōto, did you happen to see my..."
"They're on the nightstand on the left side of the bed."
Sitting there, the sea in its fullness in front of the spot they had chosen for breakfast, she only needed to add two plus two, and many drinks, to arrive at the result of that equation. She had always suspected Shōto was gay, but she never thought Iida... well. If she stopped to think, she would notice that Iida's glances at Shōto were sometimes longer, but... and there were also times when they seemed too close, shoulders glued together, or when they exchanged information about subjects, the way Shōto leaned over the table to talk to Iida, the way Iida always licked his lips when looking at Shōto's lips.
Ah!
"Are you going to sit with us for some coffee?" She asked smiling, somewhat trying to push from her mind what they had done with the help of alcohol. To the point of losing his glasses!!!
"No, Momo, thank you. I'm going to take a shower first, get the beach sand off my skin."
His shirt was over his shoulders, his sneakers in his hand, barefoot and in running shorts. Without glasses and disheveled, sweaty... Iida was temptation to the eyes and Shōto didn't know how not to look. There were flashes of lips on that skin, of those lips on his skin, of the weight of Iida's body over his. Flashes too vivid to ignore without that bringing something to the surface inside his pants, luckily there was a table to keep the situation from becoming awkward.
"You know, I honestly think he's going to need help finding his glasses."
"Momo!"
"Well, how is he going to see them on a small table? Tenya's glasses are discreet, simple and thin frames."
He had understood, she was giving him a cue to leave there to, who knows, talk? Find out what happened between them? Clear things up? So many options, but he stayed, he needed to cool his body and blood, he needed a certain part to return to normal.
He went back to his juice, this time they remembered to ask if it contained alcohol before; it didn't.
For the rest of the morning, he didn't find Iida. Nor did Yaoyorozu keep him company. Left with a book, a sun hat and a beach chair, that was how he spent the rest of the morning.
Yaoyorozu, on the other hand, spent her time trying to fish something out of Iida, not literally. She sought to give attention to her friend so he would say something, would indicate something. She noticed he had recovered his glasses, but that was all. The polo shirt hid the marks on his neck better, but he was restless.
"Did Shōto say anything?" she asked while they had lunch together in the absence of the future half-and-half hero.
"About what?"
"Nothing."
"You know, there's nothing wrong with being curious, with experimenting." It took a lot of courage for her to say that to Iida. He looked at her over his glasses which had slid down his nose a little, closer to falling than ever.
"Momo...?"
"Just commenting, we all go through it, I think. I... I... Jiro and I... What I mean is that I understand now, how you looked at Shōto, I had never noticed until... noticing. And I think that's how it was for you two too, from the marks you can see on each other's necks."
Iida didn't focus on the fact that his friend had revealed she had done something similar with Jiro, he only noticed the fact that she wasn't judging him, just talking openly with him, as good old friends did, because that's what it was. They were friends.
The entire afternoon was spent with them talking, Yaoyorozu gave Iida the push of courage, they knew Shōto, they couldn't expect him to take the initiative to find out what that had been, and whether it would repeat or they would sweep it under the rug. When Iida went to meet him on the beach at the end of the afternoon, he found him sleeping, the book on his chest rising and falling peacefully, the hat over part of his face, one leg stretched out on that chair, the other bent, barefoot and his shirt somewhat open and pulled to the side, exposing a little of his waist, enough for Iida to pull the shirt to cover him better before sitting in the chair next to him, not looking at the sky and the sea, but at Shōto.
"Shōto..." he called him, touching his arm, saw him stir, his hand reaching for the book before sitting up better, his feet settled in the soft sand, turned toward Iida. "Did you eat anything today?"
His eyes took a while to meet his, but he expected that, although anxious to see himself in those irises of distinct tones. In the sunlight he noticed everything he had already noticed, that Shōto's eyelashes were long, that his lips were soft and that his tongue always moistened them before he said something after a certain time in silence. He noticed how he moved his fingers, always unsure of what to do. He knew him, and only now saw how much he knew him. How much he observed Todoroki Shōto, and much more than the others, because he was a good observer, but he didn't know half of what he knew about him from others. Did he need alcohol for that? To see him no, to accept that he had been seeing him for a while, yes.
"I had lunch here, and I finished the book" he lifted it, the bookmark placed on the cover, unused at the moment.
They didn't know how to broach the subject, they stayed there, sitting until the sun left them. It was the second day and from the itinerary they had only done the walk, but Iida wouldn't charge anyone for that, not even he had the head for more. When he returned to the room with Shōto, he entered through his door before committing the same madness as last night. He closed it hastily and leaned against the door.
He needed a shower to cool his head, and so occupied was he with chaotic thoughts that he didn't notice there was already someone naked in the shower. It took him longer than usual to notice. He was already shirtless and with his shorts open when he saw him. The bare back, wet hair. The body shaped by training and good genetics. He stammered something, the sound of the shower didn't even let him notice that the door had been opened and he blamed himself for not noticing the shower was running before, he would have spared himself that tempting sight that he wouldn't be able to forget; and it got worse! Because Shōto turned around, running his hand through his hair pushing it back, opening his eyes and letting out a sound of pure surprise. His hand went down to cover his member, which stirred Iida's gaze to follow the movement. Soon looking up almost at the speed of his quirk.
"Shōto... I... sorry, I didn't hear you were in the shower, I'll come back later. When you get out. If you want. I mean, please get out. No, not now, you can take your shower." He stumbled over his words, turned hastily, forgot his shirt on the sink and everything else, slammed the door hard and breathed heavily as he leaned against it. His hands went to his forehead and he quickly took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose with his fingers while letting the air escape through his parted lips. Shit, he wasn't going to forget that scene, not anytime soon, never!
Damn connected suite, damn shared bathroom, damn bathroom door that opened again, now by Shōto who came out of there wearing only a towel and nothing else, wet and tempting. Iida had to put his glasses back on to be sure he was seeing and not imagining.
"Shōto..."
No. No words, not that he didn't want to try using them, but both of them were flawed in that area, maybe that's why Shōto silenced him with a kiss. Maybe that's why Iida wrapped both arms around Shōto's waist, pulling him closer while his tongue entwined with his, while Shōto's wet body seemed to hiss and heat up.
He pulled away to be sure, he was steaming, and he didn't know how not to crack a half-smile at that. But he pulled him back into an eager kiss, it was necessary to do that while both were sober to find out if what they felt last night was something real or created by alcohol.
Spoiler: it was real. So real that it made the body heat up and certain parts of the body harden, grow, gain prominence in clothing or under fluffy white towels.
Of course it was "easy" for both of them there: Iida was with his shorts open and shirtless, literally! Shōto only in a towel, one more rub of pelvis against pelvis and the poor thing was the first to give way, falling at Shōto's feet, once again attracting Iida's attention to the tense member between them.
Shōto seemed so light, so free of any shackles when he touched his hand and brought it to between his legs, the way he bit his lower lip firmly and moaned as he rubbed himself more against his palm. He seemed so different on that long weekend mini-vacation in that summer; maybe it was the sea air, or the certainty that they finally understood why they looked at each other so much before and always tried to get closer, the body already spoke before, they just weren't good at that dialect, yet.
The shaft against his fist, his palm on the length while his fingers reached Shōto's testicles in that unexpected squeeze, but clearly not refused. He moved his hand, the warm skin and tender flesh were tempting, the sound Shōto let escape through his lips in those eager kisses too, but Iida was curious to see him, so he pulled his face away from his while touching him that way again. Shōto was so beautiful, his cheekbones almost the reddish tone of his scar, which Iida never avoided looking at, he saw nothing in Shōto that indicated shame, he knew the story behind that mark on his face, behind his friend's fear of hot baths and his preference for cold soba.
Maybe because he knew him that way, he wanted new facets, he wanted that flushed face and bitten lip while Shōto also used his hands on his body, while he slipped his right hand into his shorts and boxers, while he pulled back the foreskin and played with his thumb against the slit of the glans. It was good to see him like that, it was good to feel free to experiment, as Momo had commented before. Although he was almost certain that the more he experimented with Shōto, the more he would want to. But that was something to think about later, for now it was enough that those touches were exchanged, enough that their lips kissed each other again in a hot, abrasive way. Just as the touches intensified, just as now his shorts and underwear were being kicked away from his legs, his body over his on his bed.
They had progressed quickly, but neither of them seemed to want to stop, not when Shōto reversed, staying over Iida's hip, his pelvis against his in a sensual grind, in a friction that brought shivers.
They reached their peak like that, hands on penises, penis against penis in a double masturbation amidst the frantic friction of bodies seeking relief in orgasm.
"Still planning to take a shower alone, or can I come too?" Shōto asked pressing his lips to Iida's marked neck, a brief and relaxed seal, drawing an unexpected laugh from the taller one.
When Iida got up and extended his hand to him, he accepted gladly, enjoying a cold shower, not that it was so necessary now, with their spirits settled, but Iida knew that hot showers were not Shōto's thing and he wouldn't force that on him.
They still had to talk, to find out where else their hands could go, or what else each part of their bodies could do, or invest in each other. They wouldn't address that, in any case, at the dinner table with Yaoyorozu, despite her face showing that she had a brief idea of what they had been up to that late afternoon before dinner.
They would still have one more day on that island, they would still have one more night alone in that connected suite where they sat on Shōto's bed and, indeed, talked, but not only that. Not when now their hands knew the paths of each other's bodies, and when youthful blood was always easier to arouse with kisses and fresh memories. Not when they could finally satisfy the repressed desire they had kept.
When they left, the following morning, having finally enjoyed the beach together with rights to photos taken with Shōto's phone which had finally come out from under the pillow, with memories recorded and sun marks, even with all the sunscreen insisted upon by Iida, when they left that island in the early morning of the fourth day of that summer vacation, Yaoyorozu sat in the back seat, occasionally seeing her friends' hands on the gear shift in a brief exchange of affection and intimacy.
What happened in the summer, didn't have to stay only in the summer, but certainly it wouldn't be through Yaoyorozu's mouth that their friends would find out about the news. And for now, there was nothing to know, not while they themselves didn't know if that could have a future, even though they knew it wasn't just curiosity that guided them as their fingers intertwined and glances were exchanged with tenderness.