Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaminari’s hands are covered in Cheeto dust when Kirishima calls his name.

He glances up from his attempt to text Bakugo back with his elbows (sure, Bakugo’s sitting on the couch beside his spot on the floor and he could just speak, but Bakugo texting him always felt like a small testament to their friendship, so Kaminari wanted to keep their conversation for himself). He sees Sero rolling the bottle across the table to him. 

“It’s your turn dude!” Kirishima calls. Kaminari glances down at his orange hands in dismay. Jiro laughs beside him.

“Do you want me to spin it for you?” She offers. 

“You’re the love of my life.” Kaminari says in response. Jiro snorts and reaches over him.

It’s a typical Friday night for them, which meant some sort of hang out or party or game night in the common room until everyone was too sleepy to stand. Tonight was one of the rare nights where Ashido and Kaminari had managed to convince a few people to play spin the bottle: battle royal.

The battle royal format was of course the superior way to play. It was a version designed by Sero and Kaminari months ago, in an effort to make the game less overtly sexual so more people would agree to participate. It was simple. One person spins the bottle, and whoever it lands on has three choices: seven minutes in heaven with their match, they could let the person who spun use their quirk on them, or they could take the bottle and respin it themselves. This, of course, creates maximum comfort and maximum drama. No one has to get intimate with anyone they’re not interested in, and with the respin and quirk use options, the game can be weaponized by whoever the bottle lands on. Bakugo was the first one to figure that out. 

So far tonight, Kaminari has received a few gentle kisses from Jiro, (always a treat) a kiss on the cheek at the end of a long chat with Ashido, one very steamy makeout session with Sero, (which was pretty much a weekly tradition for them by now), and a slap across the face from Bakugo, (after he insisted that his quirk would ‘kill the shit out’ of Kaminari, so they had to find a compromise). He was also briefly floated by Uraraka and had Todoroki freeze his foot. His sock was still a little damp.

Now, he tries to get the Cheeto dust off of his hands without being gross about it as Jiro spins the bottle.

“This is for Kaminari,” She clarifies as she sits back. The small circle of them still playing at this hour lean in, all of them watching as it spins and spins, then slows. Kaminari’s heart beats a little faster with anticipation for his next match.

When it finally stops, everyone’s head snaps up in the direction the bottle points. Kaminari’s heart freezes in his chest.

Shinso looks up from his phone. He’s curled up on the couch beside Midoriya and Todoroki, the former of whom has been asleep for the last hour. Shinso’s been half-watching the chaos, but the bottle had never landed on him. Kaminari wasn’t even sure he was playing. 

What he was sure of was that he is going to die. Soon. With any luck, it will happen fast. He knows he’s a great flirt, a pretty good kisser, and a king at keeping things casual, but that was only because he’d never had the misfortune of the bottle landing on someone he actually…well– Shinso .

All of Kaminari’s friends know about his crush on Shinso. Mostly because it’s stuck around for so long. Usually Kaminari’s romantic feelings are a fleeting thing. His friendships stick deep enough to stain, but crushes come and go. He’ll like someone for a couple weeks, until they inevitably say or do something in poor taste and the feeling snaps out of existence. Sometimes someone interested in him will give him a little extra attention and they become all he can think about for months, but eventually time passes and if things don’t go anywhere, Kaminari moves on.

But Shinso. Something about Shinso is different, and it’s always been a sore spot because even Kaminari doesn’t know why. Crushing on Shinso has never been like the others. Kaminari doesn’t obsess or fixate on him, he never has. When Shinso’s not in the room, he doesn’t spend time fantasizing over him or wondering what he’s up to, or if there’s any chance he’s thinking of Kaminari. He doesn’t spend time in class doing calculations on how to get Shinso’s attention or writing his name in his notebooks. It’s never been like that, with him. In fact, when Shinso’s not around, Kaminari almost forgets about his feelings for the boy entirely.

But when he is around...As soon as Shinso’s in the room, it’s hard to look anywhere else. He doesn’t have to do anything or say anything. They don’t even have to make eye contact. Kaminari sees him and remembers he exists and it’s like his heart forgets how to function. Sometimes Kaminari will get obsessive about his most recent crush, or things will get busy, and a few weeks will pass without his mind wandering to Shinso and he’ll think the feelings have finally faded. But sure enough, the next time he ends up standing next to Shinso in heroics or bumps into him in the kitchen, he realizes the feelings haven't even dimmed. 

There’s so much to like about Shinso. He’s pretty, he has a nice voice and a nice laugh, made even more wonderful by its rarity. He’s funny when he wants to be in a dry, serious way. Kaminari likes that he’s strong and dedicated. He’s passionate, though he doesn’t show it outwardly. And he’s careful, gentle in his own way. It’s probably a result of his anxieties about his quirk, but it still manifests as a caution around others that Kaminari finds hopelessly endearing. Plus, there’s a little side of Shinso that only comes out around the few people who have managed to really befriend him. It feels like holding gold every time Kaminari gets to see it.

And he’s probably one of the only members of class A that Kaminari has never, ever tried to make a real move on. He’s not stupid, he won’t waste his time chasing someone he won’t catch. Even at his warmest, Shinso is distant and guarded. Kaminari is open and boisterous, and any attempts to be too much of himself would surely scare the guy off. He treasures their strange half-friendship too much to risk that. So Shinso remains a shooting star, captivating when he passes and vanishing completely when he’s gone. A dream so untouchable Kaminari doesn’t dare reach for it. He’d trip and embarrass himself trying to touch the sky on just his two feet. 

So when everyone’s eyes land on Shinso, Kaminari plasters on the best easy-going smile he can and says, “You don’t have to play. We can respin.”

He fully, entirely, wholeheartedly expects Shinso to instantly accept this out. No one in their class would care, and Kaminari is sure it’d save the guy a lot of social discomfort. So he braces for the disappointment and prepares to tuck it away deep in his chest and let it roll through him. 

Instead, Shinso meets his eyes with no fear or discomfort whatsoever, just a little uncertainty. He considers it for a second, shifts slightly on the couch, then says, “No, I’ll play.”

If Kaminari had any hope of denying those strange feelings tonight, it dies on the spot. His heart hammers wildly, despite him knowing there’s no way this goes where his fantasies want it to. 

Shinso’s eyes dart away from him, roaming over the ground as he tucks his phone into his pocket. “So, uh, what are my options again?”

Sero, the filthy traitor he is, launches into an explanation. “You can either let Denki use his quirk on you, respin the bottle– and if you do that whoever it lands on has to let you use your quirk on them, or you can spend seven minutes in heaven with our lovely Denki.” Sero wiggles his eyebrows. Then, he theatrically raises a hand to his mouth, leaning in Shinso’s direction and stage-whispering, “He’s very good.”

“Hanta.” Kaminari snaps quickly. 

Sero leans back, but he doesn’t look very remorseful. “What? I’m giving you rave reviews over here.”

“Right,” Shinso mumbles slowly. The discomfort is finally starting to show. He looks back at Kaminari, not quite pleading yet, but with uncertainty budding.

Kaminari smiles at him, waving his fingers. “I’ll be gentle.” He says. Then, horrified, he adds, “With my quirk! With my lightning, I mean. I won’t zap you hard.”

“I’m not exactly interested in getting electrocuted today.” Shinso says quietly. Kaminari tenses for a second, but nobody suggests he respin. Shinso had made a lot of progress with his complicated feelings towards his quirk, but his strict rule that he would never use it on friends outside of training was unwavering. It wasn’t a fun dare to him. Thankfully, everyone seems to recognize that.

Kaminari watches Jiro shift beside him. She leans forward and takes a breath like she’s about to say something, probably provide Shinso a second out. But before she makes a sound, Shinso says, “So I guess it’s the closet, right?”

Kaminari freezes. He feels his friends' reactions, like a shift in the air only they can sense. Ashido’s jaw drops. Sero grins wide. Jiro stills completely. And where they’re seated together on the couch, Kirishima and Bakugo snap their heads in Kaminari’s direction with a terrifying synchronization. They’re the only ones Kaminari looks at, even though looking at them is objectively the worst idea. There’s a sharp warning in Bakugo’s glare, and a nervous sympathy in Kirishima’s eyes that’s even worse.

“Sure,” Kaminari says quickly, looking back at Shinso. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

Shinso nods and stands from the couch, already making his way towards the closet. Ashido and Hagakure scramble to their feet to hurry after him, taking their job of guiding people and locking them in very seriously, as if anyone needs their help to find the tiny storage closet they always use.

Kaminari avoids Jiro’s stare with an unwavering determination as he shoves himself to his feet.  He looks down at his Cheeto-covered hands in dismay and hurries over the kitchen to wash them frantically, scraping at the skin until all the stains are gone. He rushes back across the common room. When he passes the couch with Kirishima and Bakugo, a hand gently catches his wrist. He barely even glances at Kirishima as the redhead leans in.

He keeps his voice a low whisper, overly cautious. “Are you sure–”

“Do not ruin this for me.” Kaminari interrupts in a breath. He pulls his hand free. Kirishima lets him go with no resistance.

He tries to talk sense into himself as he approaches the closet. He sees Hagakure chatting animatedly with Shinso as she opens the door. The 7 minutes in heaven thing didn’t have to mean a makeout. Sure, no matter what happened your classmates were going to speculate and tease, but it was all in good fun. When they played, the only hard rule about 7 minutes in heaven was that you had to spend the whole 7 minutes together. No one really cares what you do while you’re in there. Jiro and Kaminari had kissed a few times, but nothing intense. Whenever him and Ashido go in, they just talk. Hagakure was notorious for using closet time with anyone to wring as much gossip out of them as possible. One time, Kaminari had sat on the floor with Koda for 7 minutes straight while he showed him every cat video he had saved to his phone. So really, the kissing was entirely optional. And Shinso knew that. So there’s no reason to assume anything is going to happen, or that any of his fantasies will be even remotely close to coming true. 

Still, no matter how many times Kaminari repeats that, he watches Shinso waiting for him outside the open door and feels a little lightheaded. Like he’s short-circuited from the chest instead of the brain.

He stops just outside the threshold of the tiny closet. It’s made of mostly shelving filled with cleaning supplies, laundry detergent and extra toiletries. Vacuums, brooms and mops line the floor. There’s very little floor space to occupy, and less space for someone's entire body, let alone two people. And of course, the closet didn't have a light. 

Shinso smiles at him, small and now visibly nervous. He’s gorgeous in a disheveled, quiet kind of way. He always looks so tired and placid that when his face softens with real emotion it’s extra noticeable. Kaminari’s chest tightens. He feels it jolt through him, like another bad zap to his system that hasn’t actually occurred. 

Shinso nods to the dim, tiny space. “After you, I guess.” He says with a shrug.

Kaminari’s fucked. He’s so, so fucked. 

“How chivalrous,” He says with a smirk. He slides himself into the closet with a practiced ease, slotting himself against the left wall, shelves pressing into the indents between his vertebrae. He doesn’t remember it feeling like such an acute invasion any of the times before. He tries to squirm into a more comfortable position, but then Shinso’s stepping in after him, and any attempts at readjustment would risk making things intimate fast. He goes still and lets the splinters into his spine as Shino’s shoulder brushes his chest. 

He watches Shinso adjust, pressing himself up against the opposite shelves. His heel hits a vacuum and he curses quietly, staring down at his feet as he tries to determine the best spot to plant them. 

“Have fun boys!” Ashido sings. She shuts the door with one click, and the thunk of the deadbolt follows. 

Kaminari does what he does best. He reverts to flirting, the causal, non-threatening kind that’s too harmless to be interpreted as genuine. It’s practically his fourth language by now.

“Come here often?” He asks.

Shinso’s still tripping over the vacuum at his feet. He kicks it away, his knees bump Kaminari’s as he finally finds a good spot to settle.

“I don’t often need three vacuums, so–” He finally turns to look at Kaminari and stills, sentence cut short abruptly as his eyes widen. Kaminari sees the expression perfectly in the dark because of the exact reason Shinso is staring.

“You glow.” He mutters, a little breathless. 

“Aw, thanks,” Kaminari plays it up, leaning his elbows back on the shelf and ignoring whatever he knocks over when he does it, “Mina’s been helping me with skincare.”

“No, your hair.” Shinso clarifies. “Your hair is glowing. And your eyes, a little. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Oh, this?” Kaminari runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he tries to make it attractive, sue him. “Yeah, it does that sometimes. Actually, it’s always glowing, but you can’t really tell in daylight. And I guess we’ve never been alone in a dark room together before.” He winks. Shinso blushes. He’s so pale it’s brutally obvious. Kaminari’s chest constricts from how adorable it is. He fumbles his words a little bit at the sight, trying desperately to ensure silence has no time to settle. “It also gets brighter under certain situations. Like when I’m using my quirk, obviously. Or when I’m excited,” He realizes that might be too telling and quickly adds, “Or nervous.”

“Oh,” Shinso blinks. He tries to step back into space that doesn’t exist, jostling everything on the shelves behind him. “Sorry.”

“No, not like!” Kaminari throws his hands out, then pulls them back quickly when he realizes that boxes Shinso in. He keeps his gestures close to his chest. “Not because of you.” He hesitates, “I mean, like, yes because of you. But not in a bad way! Just because you’re really attractive and I’m super close to you and everyone thinks we’re in here making out and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and…why are you looking at me like that?”

Shinso’s face still doesn’t reveal much emotion, but it has definitely softened with something. His eyes are wide and warm, brows raised slightly in muted surprise. When Kaminari questions him, he almost smiles. 

“I’ve never seen you flustered.” He says with a little awe, “I didn’t know it could happen. You’re usually so…” He looks away, searching for the words. “Better with the pickup lines.” He cringes at himself after he says it, looking back at Kaminari. “I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“Oh,” Kaminari breathes. “Uh, no offense taken?”

Uncertainty flickers across Shinso’s features again. He hugs himself tightly, words coming out a little stilted. “I’m not uncomfortable. The lack of space is a little awkward, but I’m glad it’s you. I agreed to this because…I knew you wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

That statement does more to Kaminari’s crush on Shinso than anything else he’s ever said. Kaminari had always considered Shinso his friend, but Shinso was never expressive enough for him to be sure the feeling was mutual. Realizing Shinso actually trusts him feels like a knife to the heart, if getting stabbed was somehow suddenly pleasant. Kaminari kind of feels like he aced a test he was expecting to bomb, surprised by his success and high on the excitement. 

A million jokes and flirty responses jump to the tip of his tongue, but he forces them back down his throat. Shinso deserves better than that version of him.

“It means a lot to me that I’ve earned your trust.” Kaminari says. Then, unable to help himself, he smiles. “I’ll be gentle with it.”

Shinso blushes again. He looks pleased. He shrinks in on himself slightly and mutters something that Kaminari doesn’t catch. Which is impressive, considering how little space there is for things to get lost between them.

“Sorry, what was that?” Kaminari asks, leaning a little closer. 

Shinso’s face reddens again, but he holds eye-contact as he says. “I said…But I do. Want to.”

The room brightens. Kaminari is too distracted to be embarrassed about that, he’s too busy dying of shock. He blinks, entirely sure he’s misunderstood something.

“You want to.” He repeats. “You want to…kiss me?”

Shinso’s eyebrows furrow, skin scarlet all the way up to his ears now. “I mean, that’s what you do in here, right?”

Kaminari’s heart sinks a little, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, no, we don’t have to! Lots of people come in here and just talk or–”

“No,” Shinso insists, frowning, “That’s what you do in here.” He says again. “...Right?”

Kaminari goes quiet. He winces, embarrassed. “I guess that’s a reputation of my own making.”

Shinso looks confused for a second before his eyes widen in panic, “I didn’t mean that in as judgment.” He insists quickly, “It’s fine. You like kissing people. That’s fine.” He stammers. “I just don’t usually get the appeal. I don’t really…get those feelings for people.”

“Oh,” Kaminari says quietly. Bitter realization stings the back of his throat. Wouldn’t that be the joke of the century? The one crush he can’t get rid of isn’t attracted to anyone at all. “You’re not into…anyone?”

“No,” Shinso blurts. He stops himself, then huffs, frustration etched into his expression. “Sometimes, I guess. It’s just…rare. It takes a while. But it’s not never . There is– are some…guys.”

“Oh,” Kaminari says again. His heart does another backflip, because it hates him. He belatedly realizes Shinso sort of just came out to him, and he should respond. 

“I like everyone.”

Shinso smiles a little. “I know.”

“Right,” Kaminari cringes. “I guess that was your whole point, wasn’t it? I do this a lot.”

“Yes, but that’s not why–” Shinso struggles with the words again, face pinching, “I think you’d be good– …shit.” He buries his face in his hands, “Just, everyone else makes it seem scary. You don’t.” He says finally. “The bottle landed and I looked at you and realized the idea of this wasn't scary. It doesn’t feel like it’d be scary, with you.”

Kaminari considers that for a long moment, halfway between touched and devastated. It’s hard to tell if Shinso wants to kiss him because he wants him or because he wants to get it over with. It’s hard to tell if Kaminari cares about the why at all. 

“Kissing shouldn’t be scary.” Kaminari agrees, mostly for something to say. “I feel like it’s only scary sometimes because everyone our age makes such a big deal out of it all the time. People act like just because you kiss someone once you owe them something after, or it has to mean something. They miss out on so much because they get in their own heads about perfect timing and finding the one and first times and some made-up ‘right order’ to do things in. Kissing is fun. It makes me feel good. As long as everyone participating knows what they’re signing up for and is having a good time, there’s no reason it has to define your whole relationship. It can just be fun.”

“I think I get that mindset,” Shinso says slowly. “But from outside, I don’t understand the appeal.” Resolve appears in place of shyness. “I want to understand the appeal.”

Kaminari takes a slow breath. “As long as it’s something you actually want, not just something you feel like you have to try.”

Shinso tenses, but his voice is sure. “I actually want to.” He huffs, shoving a hand through his hair, “Shit, Kaminari. Everyone else in the class wants to kiss you half the time, why is it so hard to believe I do too?”

Oh. That’s a pretty blatant confession. Kaminari feels a little dizzy. He’s so focused on holding onto his consciousness or his sanity or whatever it is that’s currently trying to escape his body that he doesn’t respond.

Shinso hesitates, some of his confidence and frustration fizzling out as he shrinks.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…”

Oh, I want to . Kaminari thinks instantly. He stops the words from escaping, figuring it might come out a little too eager. He didn’t want Shinso to feel unsafe, being locked in here with him and all.

“I’d like to.” Kaminari says, the words coming out in a stutter. “Of course we can. I’d love to. I mean, you’re stunning. If this was the 1800’s people would be composing poetry about you. I’d compose poetry about you. I could, tomorrow.”

Shinso exhales in what’s probably a quiet laugh, but could also be confusion. “Or you could…”

“Just kiss you.” Kaminari says quickly. “Yes, you’re right. That’s probably a more generationally appropriate response.”

Shinso nods quickly. He kind of looks like he’s braced for a punch. Kaminari assumes that means they’re really doing this. He can feel his heart in his throat, but he can tell Shinso is waiting for him to take the lead, so he tries to grasp some of his usual casualness, doing his best to make Shinso comfortable.

“Do you want to start?” He asks. He steps a little closer, so his knee slips into the space between Shinso’s legs, careful to not make contact yet.

“Uh,” Shinso stares at him with wide eyes. “I’ve never actually–”

“Oh,” Kaminari breathes. 

“I know,” Shinso looks away. “That’s embarrassing. I’m 18.”

“No, no, that’s not embarrassing!” Kaminari insists quickly. “That’s totally normal. Most people haven’t tried much at our age. Don’t be embarrassed.” He smiles. “I’ll be your first?”

Shinso nods. 

“It’s an honour.” Kaminari says. He gets a little closer and takes in Shinso’s body language. It's nervous, but not uncomfortable. They’re actually doing this. Kaminari should probably stop wasting seconds.

“Alright gorgeous,” He says quietly. “We’ll start slow. If I do anything you don’t like, tell me to stop. You have full permission to push me off of you if you get uncomfortable, or overwhelmed. If speaking is difficult, you can tap me, like this.” He places his hand on Shinso’s arm and taps his index finger against his arm three times. “Three or more quick ones like that and I’ll stop. Does that sound good?”

Shinso’s brows furrow. “It’s just a kiss, right?” He mutters, “Do you usually do all this prep work for a kiss?”

“Only when the people I’m kissing seem nervous.” He says gently. Shinso frowns.

“Just do it.” He begs quietly. 

Kaminari laughs, “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

He raises his hands to hold Shinso’s face. As soon as he’s touching him, Shinso squeezes his eyes shut. Kaminari would giggle if it wasn’t already such a sensitive subject for Shinso. He takes one quick second to process that this is really happening and shoves aside his own insanity. He starts to lean in.

Faintly, he wonders if this makes him a bad person. Is it manipulation to kiss Shinso like this? Should Kaminari feel bad about using him like this, or letting himself be used like this? Shinso doesn’t know how much Kaminari wants this. But if he did, maybe he’d give it to him anyway. They both still want this, just for different reasons. Maybe not telling Shinso about his feelings does make him terrible, but at least he’ll only be a terrible person for seven minutes. Closer to five, by now. And once they leave this closet, Shinso doesn’t ever have to know. Maybe this will even scratch the itch, get Shinso out of his system for good.

Kaminari closes the distance.

The first kiss is simple. Just a press of his lips to Shinso’s. It’s slow with barely any pressure, He hears the quiet inhale Shinso does. He doesn’t really respond, but he doesn’t tell Kaminari to stop, either. Kaminari pulls away, kisses his cheek once before he connects their lips again. This time, Shinso leans in.

From there it’s kind of hard to keep his focus. Because Shinso is kissing him back . There’s still not much movement, but just the pressure of their lips together is enough to send Kaminari’s heart racing, to have him questioning if all of this has been a long, elaborate dream. 

He moves his hands from Shinso’s face to his neck. He tilts his head, adjusting their lips, slotting them together better. He feels the second goosebumps bloom across Shinso’s skin, and the curve of his lips when he smiles. Kaminari smiles too. Experimentally, he pulls Shinso closer. Shinso practically falls into his arms. He can smell the detergent of Shinso’s clothes. It drives him a little mad, knowing they’re close enough for that to be possible. He opens his mouth a little, pushes his lips between Shinso’s and parts them just enough that he could pinch his bottom lip between his teeth if he wasn’t sure that’d short-circuit both of them. 

Something in Shinso snaps. He suddenly turns eager. He hums into the kiss and pushes back harder. He starts getting confident. His movements are still messy, but he’s moving , pushing against Kaminari and tilting his head to match, deepening the kiss on his own. Kaminari trails his hands down Shinso’s chest and rests them on his hips. When Shinso keeps pressing forward, Kaminari relents. He lets him take the lead, lets him push Kaminari backward until he hits the shelves on the other side. They break apart sharply, both breathing heavy. Kaminari glances to the side and almost laughs when he sees the way Shinso’s clutching the shelves on either side of him, knuckles going white from the pressure.

“You can touch me.” Kaminari says.

“Where?” Shinso breathes.

“Anywhere.” Kaminari says, quieter than he intends. 

“Show me,” Shinso pleads. 

Kaminari takes his wrists and places his hands low on his hips, right over the belt loops of his jeans. He meets Shinso’s eyes again as he winds his own arms around Shinso’s neck. For a second, they both still, holding each other and staring. The room is quiet and the air is hot between them. The purple of Shinso’s eyes is so rich in the yellow glow of Kaminari’s hair. He’s stunning, like something out of a movie.

Holy shit . Kaminari thinks. Holy shit . It fully registers for the first time that he’s actually kissing Shinso and Shinso is kissing him. He doesn’t care about their time limit anymore, or what it means to either of them or what they’ll be after they leave the closet. He just wants more.

“Come back.” Kaminari blurts.

They meet in the middle this time, surging together, lips crashing into each other.  Shinso’s hands wander without needing any encouragement from Kaminari, up his chest and back down, grabbing at his hips, pulling him closer until there’s no space left for even the dust in the air between them.

“Stop being gentle,” Shinso grumbles against Kaminari’s lips.  “I’m fine.”

Kaminari has never obeyed an order faster. He fists his hands into the collar of Shinso’s hoodie, presses him back into the corner of the closet. They knock something over and he barely hears it. Everything is Shinso. When Kaminari finally gives in and licks Shinso’s lips open, he’s met with no hesitance or resistance. Shinso just grips at the back of his shirt wildly and does his best to match Kaminari’s energy. It’s clumsy at first, but they find their rhythm fast. 

They break apart again when they’re both gasping for air.

“Fuck,” Shinso says between breaths.

“Good swear?” Kaminari asks. He can barely get the question out. He sort of feels like he’s left his body. He sort of feels like he’s never been more aware of it.

“Good,” Shinso nods, talking like they’ve both kissed the basics of language out of each other. “Is it–” He pants, “Is it always this good?”

“Yes.” Kaminari lies. Kissing is pretty always enjoyable, but to say he’s ever felt this way before is a blatant untruth. But he’s not about to admit that and scare Shinso off. 

“I get it now,” Shinso says as he closes the distance. 

Kaminari’s downright giddy now. He giggles until Shinso kisses him hard enough that he has to stop. Shinso holds his hips so tight that his shirt rides up. Kaminari splays his hands across his skin and lines his fingertips up with all the places on Shinso’s neck where he can feel his racing pulse. 

Shinso presses closer, looking for pressure points they haven’t discovered. Kaminari presses his leg against Shinso’s now, fitting himself against him like a key to a lock. That’s what it feels like, like something has finally clicked and Kaminari feels right. It has to be something like soulmates. It feels like they’re proving fate exists. Kaminari’s crush was right to never fade. He’s not sure it ever will, clearly this was meant to be. Even inexperienced, Shinso kissing him is the best moment of his life. He tugs him closer, shoves his hands beneath his sweater, slots his fingers along his ribs like he can worm his way between them and live there. Shinso kisses him on the lips, the jaw, the lips again. Kaminari presses closer still, thinks about how he wants to do this for the rest of his life. It's hands and lips and heavy breaths and the feeling of Shinso’s cold skin beneath Kaminari’s warm palms. It’s glances of heavy-lidded purple eyes and warm lips again, and again, and again. He doesn’t want it to stop and he knows it never will. Even when he leaves this closet Kaminari knows part of him will be in here for the rest of his life. He kisses Shinso again like he’s trying to make up for every second he’s lived doing something else. Those were clearly mistakes, he was made to be here, doing this. 

And then it ends.

The door swings open and Shinso’s off of Kaminari in a second. They fling to opposite walls, legs still tangled up even with their chests apart. The light from the common room trickles in, making a display of them both. Kaminari only spares Shinso one quick glance. He’s all disheveled hair, sweater rumpled and riding up his stomach, flushed cheeks and swollen lips, chest still heaving as he catches his breath. Their appearance is an obvious reveal of what they’ve been up to. Kaminari turns back and sees Kirishima and Ashido frozen outside the door. 

Shinso stares at him as reality crashes down around them. He looks like he’s waiting for something, like he’s going to say something. Then he glances at the others outside. He looks back at Kaminari like he’s dying, like he’s saying goodbye and they’ll never see each other again. They’re still breathing each other’s air, but in seconds it feels like Shinso is far away. Suddenly he’s out of reach. A shooting star once more. He falls away so fast, Kaminari wonders if he’d truly seen him at all.

He doesn’t say anything in the end. He just turns and leaves. Kirishima quickly moves back to allow him out the door.

All three of them watch Shinso go. Kaminari in the doorway, still a step into the closet. Ashido and Kirishima on either side of him. The silence around them present enough to qualify as a fourth person. Shinso leaves the room entirely. Kirishima watches him go. No one says anything until he’s gone. Then Kirishima turns to Kaminari, visibly surprised.

“Dude,” He says.

Ashido looks him up and down and gives him a crumpled expression that feels a lot like pity. “Oh, Denki.” She says softly. He doesn’t know why her tone is like that. His dream just came true. Why does everyone look so sad about it? “You’re gonna let that boy break your heart, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.” Kaminari whispers.

And true to his word, he never brings up the closet again.

Chapter Text

Kaminari’s hands are covered in blood when Kirishima calls his name.

He glances up from his attempt to contact Bakugo. His phone’s shattered and his fingers are too slick with blood. Even if he could type, he’s not getting service in this tiny space anyway. He lets the device slide off of his leg and clatter to the ground, as useless as the rest of him.

“Chargebolt!” Kirishima’s voice calls again. It comes in crackling through his earpiece, a bad connection, dying faster by the second, “Chargebolt, come in! You still with me?” There’s panic lacing his tone despite his best efforts to hide it. Kaminari laughs and it hurts. He’s gonna miss them. He probably should’ve obeyed orders when Kirishima tried to stop him from running in here. Too bad he won’t live to learn from the mistake.

“ Denki ,” Kirishima’s voice comes through again, a hiss of fear. “C’mon man, say something.”

“‘M still here,” Kaminari rasps. Everything hurts way too much, and he can hear the creaking of the building crumbling outside. Stupid villains and their ground-related quirks, taking entire structures down just to prove their point. 

“We’re going back in for you,” Kirishima says through the static, “Just hold on–”

“Don’t,” Kaminari rasps. There’s a fog in his mind, a blur to his vision that screams time limit . Maybe Kirishima would be fine if the whole building came down on him, but Bakugo definitely wouldn’t, and neither of them would reach Kaminari in time and Kirishima wouldn’t leave without them and all of them would die. Better for it to be just Kaminari. He stares down at the blood. It’s on his hands and across his stomach, soaking his shirt and pooling in his lap. “Won’t make it.” He tries to insist. Bakugo shouts something that’s loud enough to come through Kirishima’s earpiece, but Kaminari can’t make sense of the words as the connection sputters. 

“We can’t just–” Kirishima starts, his voice cracking. Something cuts through their connection, sending an even louder wave of static into Kaminari’s ear. He winces.

“Okay–” Kirishima’s voice comes again. It sounds like he’s responding to someone, but Kaminari can’t figure out who. “Okay. Thank you.” He breathes. His voice steadies, a little less uncertain. “Hang in there, Denki.”

“No promises,” Kaminari whispers. His whole body is getting cold now. There’s so much blood coating him he can’t look down without feeling sick. The hand he holds over the wound is useless with how little strength he has to apply pressure. Really all he’s doing is hiding the injury, trying to cradle some of the agony in an attempt to make it bearable. 

He can hear a voice, distantly. It’s not one he wants to hear because it’s not one he recognizes. It’s accompanied by heavy footsteps getting closer, with the pace of a hunter tracking prey. 

The stranger growls something about a search. He sounds like he’s communicating with someone, by quirk or radio. Who knows. Either way Kaminari is screwed.

Then, another voice, further away but louder somehow.

“Hey, fuckface! Get back here! Thought we caught you with the rest of your shitty friends!”

Kaminari takes a shaky breath, confusion mixing with delirium. His chest lightens instinctively, but he tries to shove the hope out with his blood. Because that was…Bakugo. Which was impossible, because Bakugo was outside with Kirishima. Kaminari had just heard him.

He hears the villain shout, hears the footsteps turn and stomp away on the creaking floors. A few seconds later, there’s a thud outside the door. Kaminari holds his breath and accepts his fate as the door swings open. 

It’s not Bakugo. He knows that instantly. But it’s not a villain, either. In the light that filters in, through the dust in the air, Kaminari makes out a tall silhouette. Black clothes from head to toe and purple hair framing the face. Capture weapon loose around his throat. He looks up and meets purple eyes, and the sense of safety and relief is so overwhelming he almost cries.

Shinso pulls the door shut and drops to his knees in front of him, eyes wide with concern as he hooks a finger over his mask and tugs it down.

“I’ve got him.” He says into his earpiece. 

“Shinso?” Kaminari rasps. He winces when he speaks. He can hear the way his words slur together. “Didn’t even know you were here.”

“Kind of my whole thing,” Shinso mutters, distracted as he reaches for Kaminari’s hands. “You’re going to be okay, Chargebolt. Let me see.” 

He speaks too soon. Kaminari can tell he's thinking it too as soon as he pulls his hand away and sees the wound. It’s not pretty. It’s not survivable. When a section of the building had collapsed, a piece of shrapnel had gone right through him, through his side and out his abdomen. Had it hit his spine or his lungs or any of that stuff, Kaminari would’ve been dead already. As it stood now, he had a hole in him that was killing him slowly instead of all at once. Shinso curses, fear creasing his expression as he tugs Kaminari’s jacket off. It’s easy, because Kaminari couldn’t resist if he wanted to. He flops against Shinso’s chest, ragged breaths splaying across the rough fabric of his costume. Kaminari’s in so much pain it’s hard to revel in how close they are, but his brain finds the time anyway. 

Shinso leans him back against the wall gently and presses the jacket to the wound. Kaminari screams from the pressure. Shinso winces like he felt the hurt too.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” He says quietly, hunched over Kaminari as he uses one hand to steady him, holding his hips in place. “I know it hurts, you just need to stay with me, okay?”

He’s using his hero voice. It’s hot. Kaminari would blush if he had any blood left in his face. How humiliating, to be reminded of all of this now. He’s 24 and still crushing on a boy he’s known since high school, still thinking about how beautiful he is when they’re covered in grime and gore. 

Kaminari’s scared. It hits him as he stares through glassy eyes and the blurred image of Shinso. Maybe it’s because he’s delirious and emotional, or that it’s getting harder to cling to consciousness by the second, or that Shinso is in front of him, and Shinso represents all the chances Kaminari never took. But he suddenly knows he’s dying and it scares him. He doesn’t want to go. At least he isn’t alone. Sort of cruel of the world to taunt him with Shinso one last time on his way out, but it has never leaned towards kindness.

“I’m going to move you.” Shinso says. “I’m going to get you back to Kirishima, okay? It’s going to hurt like hell. You just need to hold on to me, can you do that?”

“Gladly,” Kaminari rasps. Shinso stares at him, a flicker of relief cutting through his panic. He leans forward, gets an arm under Kaminari’s knees and starts to hook his arms around his neck. Then the ground quivers beneath them again. Kaminari hears the loud screech of metal, he feels something shift.

“Shinso–” He starts, voice rising with panic. 

Shinso curses as the building shakes. He lets go of Kaminari’s legs and throws himself over him, shielding him with his body. It hurts when he jostles Kaminari’s wound, but it’s so protective his slowing heart races anyway. Their little closet doesn’t crumble, but everything flies off the shelf. They both hear louder crashes from the hallway outside. 

Shinso stays curled around Kaminari until the shaking stops, one hand holding Kaminari’s head against his chest and wow, it’s attractive, his hand all knotted in Kaminari’s hair. Kaminari smiles into the padding of Shinso’s costume. If he wasn’t in so much physical agony this would be a fantastic way to go. 

But Shinso’s panic is contagious, and it snaps Kaminari back into reality as he throws himself away, crashing into the door.

“No, no, no, no,” He gasps, the last dredges of feigned calm he was clinging to vanishing as he throws his body against the door, fumbling for the knob. It doesn’t budge. He throws his body weight against it two more times, but something from the collapse must be blocking it on the other side. Shinso slams a fist against the wood. It’s the most anger Kaminari’s ever seen from him.

“ Shit! ” He curses. 

Bakugo’s voice comes through the earpiece, ear-splitting in volume.

“Nighthide, you better not have let that shit crush you!”

“We’re fine,” Shinso says, “But rubble is blocking us in and Kami–” He chokes, looking back at Kaminari as he collapses in front of him again.

“I’m on the way,” Kirishima’s voice this time. “Just–” It cracks with emotion, quiets with terror, “Just keep him alive. Please.”

“I’m trying.” Shinso snaps, his own panic making his voice sharp. He yanks his earpiece out, which Kaminari doesn’t think is very smart, but when he tries to make a quip about it he realizes he can’t speak anymore. That’s not ideal. Who is he without his quips?

“Okay,” Shinso takes a breath, “Okay, fuck , we’re doing this here.” He puts his hand over Kaminari’s again, puts pressure that makes spots dance across his vision and tears another scream from his throat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Shinso repeats it on a loop as he fumbles for something in one of his many pockets. He comes up with a roll of gauze and stares at it like it’s another weapon. They both know it’s not enough. Kaminari needs stitches, and probably some kind of surgery to fix everything that’s been torn up inside of him. Shinso just clutches the gauze tighter in his hand and leans closer, like he can yank him out of death’s hands if he just pulls harder. He glances at the shard of bloody metal, gleaming on the ground beside Kaminari, he grits his teeth as he unwinds the gauze.

“Why the hell did you remove it?” He hisses.

“It was freaking me out,” Kaminari mutters. He can talk this time, though even he knows it sounds weak and ridiculous, “Looking at it sticking out of me…couldn’t do it.”

“It would’ve bought you more time.” Shinso snaps.

“Well, hindsight, 20/20, all that.” Kaminari’s head lolls. Shinso’s eyes snap to him. A hand catches his chin in a firm grip, shoves his face up again.

“Hey. Hey ,” Shinso says. Kaminari forces his eyes open wider. God, everything hurts. Can’t he just go to sleep? Shinso’s grip softens, hand shifting to cup the side of Kaminari’s face, like he’s a fragile thing Shinso is afraid of cracking further. “Stay with me. Keep talking.”

He lets Kaminari lean his head back against the wall as he pulls the blond's hands from his stomach. He pulls the jacket, now soaked through with blood, off of his skin and tosses it away. He starts to push Kaminari’s shirt up. It catches under his armpits. Shinso hesitates for only a second before he mutters a curse and curls his fingers into the tear the shrapnel left. In one swift motion he rips the fabric clean off of him. 

Woah . Kaminari thinks, deliriously.

“This was never how you undressing me went in my head.” Kaminari murmurs. Shinso scoffs. He fishes through his pockets for something else and comes out with a few adhesive skin closure strips. He presses the first one above Kaminari’s wound and Kaminari screams. He lurches forward. Shinso steadies him with a hand on his chest. He lets Kaminari drop his sweaty forehead onto his shoulders, gritting his teeth and pressing his twisted expression into Shinso’s body as he starts the grueling process of trying to do his best for an injury they need real stitches for.

Kaminari doesn’t really have the clarity left to be embarrassed as he shakes and screams in Shinso’s hold. Shinso’s as gentle as he can be, but there’s only so much he can do when every brush of air against Kaminari’s skin feels like a hundred needles. Getting the wound half-closed with just the adhesives is a grueling process. And that’s only the front. There’s not much he can do about the entrance wound in the back. He presses a wad of gauze to it and ignores the fresh screams it pulls from Kaminari. Despite his outward focus, Kaminari can feel every muscle coiled beneath Shinso’s skin, tense and terrified, only feeling steady because he’s shaking less comparatively. 

“Talk.” Shinso commands as he starts to wrap the remaining gauze around Kamianri’s midsection. “Talk to me, Kaminari.”

He’s so gentle it makes Kaminari dizzy. More dizzy than he already is. He can feel Shinso’s fingers, warm and wet with his blood, as they dance over his ribs and splay flat across his back to steady him when he needs to reach around. He lets Kaminari stay slumped against him, their legs tangled, basically in each other’s lap, cramped and stuck in a pool of dirt and ash and blood. 

“Kaminari.” Shinso snaps when Kaminari doesn’t respond. He opens his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them.

“M’here.” He mumbles onto Shinso’s shoulder.

“Prove it.” Shinso says, his hands passing over his ribs again. 

“This isn’t as romantic as last time.” Kaminari blurts. “S’probably my bad. Dying kinda kills the mood.”

He feels Shinso’s hands pause, only a second of hesitation before they go back to fluttering around him, winding the gauze tight again and again. “You remember that?” He whispers. “Last time?”

It’s Kaminari’s turn to still. That’s not right. Why would– He fumbles to get control of his limbs again, bloody hands slipping when he tries to grasp for purchase on Shinso’s chest. 

“Don’t move–” Shinso tries to say, but Kaminari manages to push himself off of Shinso’s shoulder so he can look him in the eyes. Or at least see his face. Shinso only glances up at him before his firm stare focuses on his hands again. They go around and around, circling Kaminiari’s body.

“Of course I remember it.” Kaminari mumbles. His head swims. He narrows his eyes as he tries to force them to focus. “How would I forget?”

Even in the dark, in the very dim glow of his hair that’s dying with him, he sees Shinso frown. He watches him swallow his words, hesitate. “I assumed–” He winces, shakes his head. Around and around his hands go. He yanks the gauze tight, Kaminari groans.

“We’re not discussing this here.” 

“Y’wanted me to talk…” Kaminari argues weakly. 

Shinso grits his teeth. Then he leans down, breath ghosting over Kaminari’s ribs when he brings the gauze to his mouth. He rips it off with his teeth and puts all his attention into tying it. “Figured it wasn’t that memorable to you.” 

“What?” Kaminari squeaks. He finds his voice easier this time. “You’re the one who never brought it up again!”

“ You never brought it up again!” Shinso argues. Despite the embarrassment in his voice, his hands are gentle when he places one over the wound on Kaminari’s back, still applying pressure. “No one else seemed to make a big deal of it. And you were–” He cringes, “You were my only frame of reference. You didn't seem to care, I figured I was the weird one for fixating on it.”

“I–” Kaminari halts so quickly it tugs at his wounds. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Well,” Shinso looks away, fingers tracing over the bandages. Kaminari can still feel his touch, muted through the fabric. “It was a big deal. To me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kaminari tries to shout it, but his voice catches. He pulls something and crumples in pain. Shinso catches his shoulders, steadies him. Kaminari fights back nausea and a vision darkening by the second. 

“Stop, you’re straining yourself,” Shinso scolds gently as he squeezes his shoulders. Kaminari just presses forward, tries to cling to the the touch to pull himself back to life. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats.

“I–” He hesitates, glances down at Kaminari’s stomach. “Stop moving . I did, try. I just– it was too embarrassing.”

“It didn’t have to be with me, then! Anyone! You didn’t bring it up with anyone else?” Kaminari wails, a little devastated that in all his attempts to stop Shinso from spiralling, he only ensured it.

“I did.” Shinso says, a defensive edge to his voice. “I talked about it with Kirishima, once.”

“And he didn’t say anything?”

“About what?” Shinso stares at him, “He said my feelings were valid, there was nothing wrong with thinking about it. Something about going after what I wanted and being manly. I don’t know, it didn’t make much sense to me at the time.”

“He didn’t say anything about me?” Kaminari blurts. “He didn’t tell you I liked you?”

“What?” Shinso stills. “...N-no? I asked if I had a shot and he just…smiled. He wouldn’t say anything about how…how you felt. Said it wasn’t his place to share that kind of stuff about you.”

“Holy shit,” Kaminari winces. He drops his head onto Shinso’s shoulder again. Tears brim his eyes, from frustration and pain and exhaustion. “I can’t believe we missed our chance because Kirishima is too good of a friend. He should’ve told you I liked you back!”

“You liked me back?” Shinso whispers. Even in the tiny room, it's quiet. 

“Yes,” Kaminari wheezes. It all feels so trivial now. Too close to the end to matter. A tiny event in the grand scheme of things, the beat of a butterfly’s wings that never rippled the way it was supposed to. He tries to sit up again and finds his head is too heavy to lift. He throws it back until it thuds against the wall. Shinso winces, fingers raised and twitching like he wants to help. Kaminari meets his eye over the bridge of his nose.

“I’d had a crush on you for months when we kissed. I had feelings for you, Shinso.” He exhales, everything aching twice as much with Shinso in front of him. He’s older now and worn and bloody, different but still beautiful. And still, at the sight of him stumbling into the closet, throwing himself forward to save Kaminari, he’s 16 all over again. And the feelings haven’t even dimmed.

“I have feelings for you, Shinso.” Kaminari whispers it, because it feels like the kind of thing you don’t say too loud, “They don’t go away. You don’t go away.”

Shinso stares at him for a long time, disbelief in his eyes, confusion everywhere else. 

“How–” He starts. He takes a quiet breath. “We barely even see each other.”

“Don’t remind me.” Kaminari whispers. 

“Why didn’t you…” Shinso looks him up and down. His expression crumples as he adjusts his palm over Kaminai’s bandages. Red is soaking through now, the time they bought falling through the hourglass. “You should’ve said something.”

Kaminari shrugs, or as much as he can manage. His body is starting to feel cold again, the world is dimming with the last lingering glow of his hair. “Waiting until I was dying in your arms seemed less intrusive, I guess.”

Shinso takes a quiet breath, shaky in the suffocating air of this tiny closet. “We missed our chance…You think we missed our chance?”

Kaminari meets his eye, though it’s difficult to direct his gaze. “I’m…I’m not making it out of here.” He says. It feels like trying to speak through a mouthful of syrup. 

“Yes you are.” Shinso says firmly. He glances at the door, but he can’t hide the uncertainty in his face by looking away. “Kirishima’s on his way. You’re going to be–”

“Hey,” Kaminari says quietly. Shinso stops immediately. He looks at Kaminari. Everything in him aches as he tries to lift his arm, but it always does when Shinso’s around. He puts a bloody hand to Shinso’s jaw, tries not to feel guilty about the mess his touch leaves. “Would you–” He starts. Shinso’s already ducking into it before Kaminari finishes asking.

The kiss is a different kind of electric this time. Shinso’s the one being gentle, being overly cautious. Their lips move against each other with a tender familiarity, as if they never spent years apart. 

Kaminari twists his free hand in Shinso’s capture weapon, tugs him closer with enough strength that Shinso’s hand slips on his abdomen, glides around to his ribs. Kaminari kisses Shinso’s mouth open, until he has the depth of contact he craves. He kisses Shinso hard, he doesn’t care that it hurts. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Shinso gasps as they break apart, “With you–”

“Let me die doing what I love, Hitoshi.” Kaminari pulls him back down. He doesn’t resist.  

There’s a wild few seconds where Kaminari fully intends for this to be it. The dull ache in his side has returned to a throbbing agony. His wound feels like it’s burning while the rest of him shivers. Stars dance across his vision even with his eyes closed. He ignores it all, focuses on the pressure of Shinso’s hands and the feeling of his lips, memorizes how he tastes, even if it’s all a little bloody. He wants this to be his last memory, not the loneliness or the fear or the gore. He wants his mind to die where his mouth is, on Shinso.

Then Shinso breaks away before unconsciousness claims him entirely. Kaminari is pulled back to life when he pulls back from his body. Shinso’s forehead stays pressed against his own. In the dark he can see the blush on his cheeks. A pretty sight to be his last.

“You lied to me, back then,” Shinso whispers. “It isn’t always this nice. It’s never felt like that since.” He traces a thumb over Kaminari’s jaw, “You spoiled me right out of the gate and ruined me for everyone else. I’ve spent a lifetime kissing other lips trying to find yours again.”

“Should I feel sorry about that?” Kaminari mutters, hazy and drifting.

“Maybe. Probably not.” Shinso hums. “You can make it up to me once we’re out of here. We can catch up on all the time we lost.”

Kaminari’s head gets heavy, he leans into Shinso’s hand. “Sorry,” He murmurs, “Think ‘m outta time.”

“No,” Shinso says, a little too sharp. He softens his voice again, “Hey, no. You’ll be fine. Just a little longer.”

“You’ll be my last,” Kaminari whispers, as the dark spots bleed and spread across his vision.

“No. Denki–”

“Pretty poetic.” He murmurs. “...I guess I never did write you that poem.”

“You could,” Shinso’s voice sounds like a sob. “Tomorrow.”

Kaminari’s consciousness slips away, even as Shinso clutches at him like he’s trying to hold it there. Even as he calls his name over and over. He makes out the sound of creaking, wood shattering, a familiar voice shouting, distant. 

“Here!” Shinso’s voice sounds far away now, too. “We’re in here!” 

Kaminari wants it to be the last sound he hears, so he finally lets the darkness take him completely.

Chapter Text

Kaminari’s hands are covered in dish soap and Ashido won’t stop texting his phone.

Kirishima officially hit number 10 in the hero charts today. He hasn’t even gotten off of work yet to tell them himself, but the group chat has done nothing but explode since they saw it on the morning news. Ashido already has a party in the works to celebrate. Which is the thing she won’t stop texting Kaminari about, effectively distracting him from the dishes he’s been trying to do for an hour now. 

He accepts defeat and rinses off his hands, scrubbing them dry quickly on the dishcloth as he scoops up his phone. He darts around Wordsworth and Byron as he heads for the couch. The two persian cats had been circling his feet impatiently the entire time he was in the kitchen. They’re quick to jump onto his back when he flops onto the couch, instantly coating him in fur as Byron nuzzles his shoulder.

“Yes, yes, you’re very pretty.” Kaminari coos, awkwardly reaching over his shoulder to pet him as he tries to answer Ashido’s text with one hand. Wordsworth curls up by his feet. He types out a few rapid-fire responses to all the things Ashido’s asking for opinions on, giggling to himself when Bakugo’s expected “ DON’T YOU FUCKERS HAVE WORK TO DO? STOP BLOWING UP MY DAMN PHONE. ” comes in. Ashido heart reacts to his message then proceeds to ignore it entirely, continuing with the planning unperturbed. 

Kaminari glances up at the time when he hears the click of a key sliding into a lock. He hadn’t realized it was past 10am already. He rolls off the couch, taking Byron with him. The cat doesn’t seem very bothered, just lands on his feet and waits for Wordsworth to join before they follow Kaminari to the door.

It swings open as he crosses the apartment. He practically skips towards the sleepy looking Shinso shuffling in.

“Welcome home!” Kaminari sings, reaching out for him instantly. Some of the exhaustion fades from Shinso’s expression when he looks up. He sets his messenger bag down with one arm as he accepts Kaminari’s hug with the other. He holds him tighter when both arms are free, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Good morning,” He says, voice raspy. 

“Morning!” Kaminari rises onto his toes to press a kiss to Shinso’s lips. He steps away. “Did you hear about Kirishima?”

“How could I not?” Shinso says with a quiet chuckle. He squats down to greet the cats, scratching them both under the chin before he scoops up Wordsworth. “Pretty sure Mina knew before the news did.”

“She wants to throw a party.” Kaminari says.

“I saw.”

“And she wants us to host.”

“I saw,” Shinso kisses Wordsworth on the head. “I’m fine with that.”

“You sure? You’ll take both nights off, right?”

Shinso sighs, but gives in. They’ve been together for years now, he knows not to fight this. “Yeah, yeah. The night before and the night of, don’t worry. Just let me know when you decide the official date. I can’t keep up with that groupchat.”

“Whatever you need, babe.” Kaminari hums. He leans over the cat to press a gentle kiss to Shinso’s lips. His boyfriend draws it out until the cat squirms between them, like he’s annoyed to be trapped between the display of affection. Shinso laughs as he pulls away and sets Wordsworth down. Kaminari reluctantly gives him the space to take his shoes and jacket off. He busies himself by tucking Shinso’s bag onto the coat hook for him.

He turns back as Shinso is ruffling through his pocket. He pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper and holds it out. “Bakugo dropped this off this morning.” 

Kaminari takes it and unfolds it. It has a date and time written on it, and the address of Best Jeanist’s agency. He gasps, crinkling the page in his excitement. 

“To get the suits tailored!” He grins, “I knew he’d pull strings for us.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Shinso groans.

At the top of the paper, in large, sharp handwriting it reads ‘ Times for dunceface. Put this shit on the fridge, Denki. DO NOT FORGET ABOUT IT, IDIOT. ’ 

“He’s so sweet.” Kaminari sighs as he tucks the paper onto the fridge. Shinso steps up behind him with a smile in his tone. 

He reaches over his shoulder, tapping the paper with a hand. “Weird that he scheduled you for two fittings, though. I didn’t think you had anyone who wanted to go with you.”

“You’re so funny,” Kaminari drawls sarcastically. He turns around, still boxed in by Shinso’s outstretched arm. Shinso doesn’t back away to let him leave, just smiles down at him, a little smug. Kaminari sighs, placing his hands on Shinso’s chest.

“It does suck that you can’t get any recognition for these things.” He whispers. 

The event they’re attending is a gala for the top 50 heroes. Shinso, being off the charts, is doomed to be Kaminari’s plus 1 for an eternity.

“I don’t do it for the attention.” He says with an easy shrug.

“I know,” Kaminari traces a circle over Shinso’s hoodie, “But the attention is still nice.”

“I’d hate every second of it.” He says, leaning down to kiss Kaminari again. Kaminari grins into it, fingers curling into the fabric of Shinso’s sweater as he tugs him closer.

“I know you would,” He says onto his lips, “And I love you for it. I love you for putting up with all these events for me.”

“Wouldn’t do it for anyone else.” Shinso mutters. Kaminari grins into their next kiss too.

“I have even better news,” Shinso says when they break away. “When he dropped off the times, Bakugo said we could ride to the gala with him.”

“Oh my god,” Kaminari grins, covering his mouth with his hands. “In his limo?”

Shinso smirks, nodding. 

“Oh my god,” Kaminari repeats, “Dynamight is letting us ride in his limo!” He grips Shinso’s shoulders, shaking him as he jumps up and down. “Oh my god, ‘Toshi. He loves us so much.”

“Yeah, we’ve really softened him up over the years, huh?” He teases. Kaminari snickers. 

“This is so exciting.” 

“I knew you’d love that,” Shinso stops to yawn, trying to talk through it, “That’s probably why Bakugo told me instead.”

Kaminari laughs, tapping Shinso’s nose as he yawns again. “Tired?” He asks. Shinso nods, blinking slowly. Kaminari catches his hand and pulls him towards their bedroom. “Was it a tough night?” He asks over his shoulder.

Shinso shakes his head. “Not busy, just long.” Kaminari lets both cats trail after them before he closes the bedroom door. Shinso tugs his hoodie off, watching Kaminari as he flings himself into bed.

“Didn’t you just wake up?” He asks through another yawn.

“Yeah, but i’ll lay with you. I’m off today.”

“No complaints from me,” Shinso mutters. He tucks himself in and pulls Kaminari a little closer. The cats curl up at their feet as they all settle, a compact unit of comfort and love. Kaminari smiles at Shinso’s chest as Shinso places another kiss on his forehead. His hand dips under Kaminari’s shirt. Kaminari feels his fingertips dance across his abdomen, light as they brush over the long, jagged scar there. It’s a ritual Kaminari doesn’t question anymore, a recognizable repetition. 

“I thought you said it wasn’t a rough shift.” He says quietly.

Shinso hums, “Doesn’t have to be a rough shift for me to appreciate that you’re still here.”

Kaminari feels a swell of fondness so intense it hurts his chest. He peppers kisses across Shinso’s collarbones, a brand new confession in every one.

“I wrote you another poem last night.” He says.

“Oh god, no more,” Shinso groans, “Denki, there’s no space left on my desk.”

“It’s a haiku.” He says.

“You said that about the last one.”

“The last one was a haiku!”

“It just said ‘Hitoshi Shinso / I love you so so so much / Wow! My hot boyfriend.’”

“Aw, you memorized it.” Kaminari whispers, “You’re so sweet.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, but you’re gonna clear a spot on your desk for the next poem anyway, right?”

Shinso sighs, but Kaminari can hear the laughter in it. “Yeah. Of course I am. I’ll find the space.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Kaminari giggles. Shinso ducks his chin to kiss him one more time, readjusting as he shuts his eyes.

“Love you,” Kaminari whispers. 

“Love you too.” Shinso responds, just as quiet. 

Kaminari doesn’t fall asleep, just curls up and watches Shinso breathe. He’s content to spend all day here, like this. He’s content to know that even if he couldn’t, they’re never running out of time.