Chapter Text
“Dude, check this out!”
Those words, coming from Denki, can mean anything. Literally anything. One time, the thing Hitoshi ended up “checking out” was a video of a fly taking off with a strand of soba noodle clutched in its arms. Hitoshi had to admit that it was pretty freaking amazing, but he couldn’t help wondering: Do some bugs have strength enhancing quirks? Another time, the “checking out” consisted of Denki rubbing his hands together then giving Sero a high-five, which resulted in Sero’s hair defying gravity for a record-breaking two days. Denki had laughed and called voltage-d Sero the unofficial official lost twin brother of Hitoshi, which then prompted Todoroki to “glare-think” at him for a week.
So, Hitoshi has a lot to work with.
Okay, don’t panic and do what Dadzawa always tells him to do. First, take in the environment. What about their surroundings would classify a statement such as “check this out”? Hitoshi looks around the hotel room they had been hooked up with. Two twin sized beds (Denki will probably complain about them not being able to live out the “Oh my god there was only one bed!” trope), a plasma screen television (big but not huge), and a variety of free hotel waters and snacks (Hitoshi subtly slips a package of wasabi peas into his pocket)— any of these would warrant an excited Denki wanting him to stop, look, and listen.
But Denki currently isn’t facing any of those things. In fact, Denki had curved a hard right into the bathroom to take a piss the second they entered the room.
Okay then. If Denki was in the bathroom, what kind of cool things could be there?
Travel sized shampoos and soap, two-ply toilet paper, a hair dryer with six different settings on it... Again, the possibilities were endless.
“Toshi!” Denki’s head pops out of the doorway and he grins. “You and your aching muscles are gonna love this!”
Hitoshi’s mind draws a blank— he has no idea what that means. Unless there was a full army of masseurs in there, he and his aching muscles don’t know what to say.
Time for step two: take precautions and follow the source. Usually, this would mean remaining hidden in the shadows and blending into his surrounding background, but Hitoshi can’t exactly “go chameleon” on the brightly colored bed sheets. So, defeated by his lack of a chameleon quirk, he walks over and peeks into the bathroom.
He blinks.
“It’s a bathtub,” he says and even the words sound dull coming out of his mouth. He was honestly expecting something... cooler than this. “Denki, we bathe in a communal one back at U.A.” Though, he has to admit, this one does look a bit different than the ones at the dorms. Unless all hotel had tubs filled with gaping metal holes.
Denki shakes his head.
“No, no, no, my dear purple cabbage patch kid,” he says, shaking his head. “This,” Denki says, sticking out both of his arms, leaning back, and posing in a Celebrity-Presenting-Their-Bae way (a meme that will now never leave Hitoshi’s mind, no matter how many cat videos he watches), “is an American style, jacuzzi.”
Oh. Oh.
Denki’s grin seems to widen as he drops his posing and saunters over to Hitoshi. Wrapping his arms around Hitoshi’s neck, he has the gall to actually wink at him.
“I’m not getting into that with you,” Hitoshi deadpans before Denki can even open his mouth. “Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.” Whatever flirty pick-up line that Denki was about to say evaporates, replaced with a pout.
“Aw, babe why?” he asks, hands resting on the back of Hitoshi’s neck. Hitoshi fights back a whisper of a laugh.
“You know why.”
Denki cracks a small smile and then impishly rubs the tips of his fingers against Hitoshi’s neck, trying to get Hitoshi to smile back. Hitoshi’s neck had always been a weak spot for him (thank god his support weapon is a scarf that is supposed to cover his neck), and it really fucking sucks that Denki is the perfect neck-height of short, but just tall enough to be an irritation. One time (one fucking time), Pikachu had blown a raspberry against Hitoshi’s neck and Hitoshi had (he cringes when he remembers) giggled. Hitoshi will never forget the look on Denki’s face and how quickly it melted from shock to a teasingly malicious grin (followed by a hickie that Hitoshi had to hide for a week).
Hitoshi pushes Denki’s fingers away and frowns.
“Don’t you think this is a high risk, low reward situation?” he asks. He can hear the monotonous tone of his voice, steady and bored, breaking any potential “teasing atmosphere” in the room. So much for being a master of romance. Hitoshi has as much tact as a dressed up janitor’s mop.
He’s lucky that Denki can keep up with his unromantic ass.
“Babe, did you just call snuggling up to my miraculous naked bod a ‘low reward situation’?”
Apparently, Hitoshi’s deadpan voice did nothing to kill the mood as Denki just reignited it with a pair of double finger guns.
“Yes,” Hitoshi quips, “because nothing is lower than having my dick shocked to death.”
Denki rolls his eyes but his expression is playful, used to the jokes that Hitoshi makes.
“Hitoshi~! You know how well I can control my sparks now. I promise: No dick shocking will happen. Just you, me, and a jacuzzi filled with good times.” Denki grins then tips his face up to kiss Hitoshi and Hitoshi takes a tactile (instinctive) step backwards before remembering, Right, kissing. Kissing is something that good boyfriends do with each other. And Denki usually liked to follow up jokes with a smile and a kiss. A one-two punch.
Fuck. Hitoshi messed that one up. Maybe he could fix it?
Nope, too late now.
To his credit, Denki doesn’t look too annoyed at Hitoshi. A quick frown that’s quickly replaced by a mock pout. Denki cocks his head to the side, a sign that he’s determined to be whatever player two Hitoshi wants him to be in this new “game”.
“Babe~,” Denki doesn’t exactly whine but he does hold the word in his throat seconds too long, letting it out with a growl and causing Hitoshi to shiver. “When will we ever get another chance of jacuzzi-related shenanigans? Opportunities like this happen only once in a hundred, thousand years. And no,” he says cheekily, “I’m not exaggerating.”
Well, when he puts it like that…..
“No,” Hitoshi deadpans. Not that he’s against the idea, but it’s really ...intimate. As in, being with Denki in a much smaller tub than he is used to, surrounded by watery bubbles, Denki slipping off his clothes, intentionally showing his body for Hitoshi to run his eyes over, water rushing all around them, Hitoshi’s hair flattening against his head, being closer and more exposed to Denki than he has in the past few months of their dating.
It's a lot to think about, and Hitoshi doesn’t know how he feels about it. He’s not exactly going to blush his pants off in embarrassment like Midoriya does, nor is he going to be as blank-faced as Todoroki. He’s not going to go into scoff-tsundere mode like Bakugo, but he’s also not going to smile and play it off like Kirishima. He just…..doesn’t know. He wants it, yes. He wants to be more intimate with Denki and feels like he has been failing to be the “expected” boyfriend, but he just doesn’t know how. He knows what he wants, but he doesn’t know how to say how he feels about wanting it.
His face must’ve twisted into something less than ideal (less than boyfriend-like) because Denki immediately flinches and the “seductive” look on his face drops. He looks guilty, sheepish even, and Hitoshi feels an uncomfortable thought connected to the look. He’s made Denki feel bad.
“Hey, bro,” Denki says, “Hitoshi, my good dude, my shining beam of purple moonlight.” Hitoshi rolls his eyes. “Aizawa’s secret love child.” Hitoshi snorts and he can feel his face relaxing. He must’ve been unconsciously scrunching it up like a possessed cat. “If you don’t want to, then that’s fine. Just thought I’d put it out there. Shoot for the stars and all that jazz.”
“Shoot for the stars?”
Denki nods. “You know, like that saying? Shoot for the stars because even if you miss you’ll land in the ...stars? Wait, that’s not right.” Denki frowns, and Hitoshi watches as he mouths the phrase over to himself. It’s unfairly cute.
Then, his eyes begin to linger on Denki’s lips, smooth and not chapped as if he moisturized them everyday. How they curved down as Denki kept trying to remember what the hell the quote was about. (“Shoot for the skies? Nah...Shoot for the sun? Nope. If you did that, you’d just burn up. So... not that either.”)
His tongue pokes out of his mouth, and Hitoshi quickly looks away, feeling awkward and a little ashamed for staring too long. His hand goes to his neck and he gingerly touches the spot where the hickie used to be. It’s not there anymore, but Hitoshi can still feel those lips and that tongue teasing him, Denki’s breath tickling his ear, Denki being the perfect neck height.
“It’s ‘shoot for the moon,’” Hitoshi finally says, “‘Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.’”
Denki snaps his fingers together, a thin line of spark slipping between the audible click. “That’s it! The moon!” he says with the confidence and enthusiam of someone who just solved the identity of an undercover graffiti artist.
Hitoshi snorts.
And just like that, Denki’s smiling again, and Hitoshi is trying hard not to smile. But he can feel himself smiling, the uncomfortable muscles, ticking up and up in him, spreading across his face. Smiling feels weird. A good weird, but still weird. He likes doing it, but he’s not used to it. Denki makes him smile and he likes that, he’s just not used to it.
He’s not….. Used to Denki.
He… should be used to Denki right? He’s known Denki for two years and has been dating him for a couple months now. He should be used to him.
But… he’s not. He should be… but he’s not. Every time he tries to be, he can’t do it. It drives Hitoshi crazy.
He just...wants to take that step, but can’t.
Maybe it’s this gut wrenching, dick-punching realization that has Hitoshi saying the words before his brain to mouth filter can switch on.
“Let’s do it.”
It’s in a voice louder and filled with more determination than he expected it to have.
If the words surprised Denki, he would be showing it on his face. But Hitoshi doesn’t know because he’s already brushing past him over to the jacuzzi, blushing be damned. He’s already said the words, so he might as well commit now. He plugs the stop, twists the handles and leans back as the silence is taken up by the sharp noise of gushing water hitting porcelain. He doesn’t look back at Denki, preferring to stare at the back wall in a subtle attempt to blend into his surroundings.
Looks like he skipped Dadzawa steps three through six and went headfirst into step seven: Action.
It’s definitely not helping that Denki isn’t saying anything, shocked into a pikachu-meme worthy silence by Hitoshi’s...everything. And Hitoshi knows he’s still doing this wrong somehow. He should've gone slower, protested more, ducked out of the bathroom when he had the chance. But he already made his bed and now he would lay down and take a fucking power nap in it. As step seven of Aizawa’s seven steps of planning says—Action.
So Hitoshi, still staring at the wall, still ignoring the stare that Denki is lasering into the back of his head asks, “Well, you gonna start stripping or not?”
It’s silent behind him, and Hitoshi takes a deep breath and begins to pull his shirt off. From behind him, he can hear the soft clink and zip of Denki’s belt and pants.
God, he hopes he’s doing this right.
There had been a mutual, silent agreement that full pressing of the nude kind would not happen. The jacuzzi laying (with boyfriend™) would instead be happening with their underwear still on.
Still, Hitoshi wonders if he should’ve just entered the fancy frickin bathtub with his full hero outfit on because he wasn’t ready for Denki to be looking like this. Legs crossed, hands running through the high powered jets of water, a faint blush making his face red, blond hair flattened against his skin. He’s trying to not-so-subtly take up as little space as possible for Hitoshi’s sake and that makes Hitoshi’s heart squeeze.
Hitoshi definitely wasn’t prepared for step seven.
The jacuzzi had ended up being a lot louder than both of them had expected. The gurgling noise of bubbles being farted out at high speeds screeched through their silence, somehow making the whole situation even more awkward (at least for Hitoshi). And although the pressurized water was relaxing and loosening all the tension in his body, it was also annoyingly loud.
Maybe it was because of this volume of noise that prevented any conversation about, well, pretty much anything to come spilling from Denki’s mouth. It makes Hitoshi worried, and he wishes yet again that there was a book or a manual or a set of well written notes that told him he was doing this right. Whatever this was.
If he was doing this right, then wouldn’t Denki be laughing and flirting way too much? Instead, he was quietly enraptured by water, not looking at him. Is he waiting for Hitoshi to speak first? Waiting for him to say something so he could quip back? He hasn't touched Hitoshi either, even scooted away when Hitoshi had first entered the jacuzzi.
So ...is he doing this wrong? Maybe he should just get out. But then, if he does, what if Denki thinks it’s his fault and not Hitoshi’s own mind wrapping itself in confusing circles of thoughts?
“Uh...dude? Bae? My coffee without creamer? My mysterious midnight lily?” Denki finally speaks up.
Hitoshi snorts at the last one and looks up. Denki had to practically yell over the bubbles but Hitoshi can’t deny his boyfriend looks...wet like this. Of course he was wet, but also ...hot? Maybe? Sexy?
Ugh ...words are a pain.
“Mysterious midnight lily?” Hitoshi asks.
“What?” Denki asks back.
“Why did you call me ‘mysterious midnight lily’?”
“What?!”
“Denki, I said why-?”
Denki suddenly slams his fist on the “OFF” button to their two man bath, killing off the annoyingly loud scream-farts that the jacuzzi was producing. The positives to this action? Hitoshi has now re-unlocked the ability to talk to Denki without being interrupted by gaseous bubbles.
The negatives? Hitoshi can see Denki’s nipples and being able to see them reminds him that Denki could probably see his too. That and the silence is suddenly too ...heavy. Like the space between them is asking to be filled up with words now that the sounds are gone. Words that Hitoshi just doesn’t have.
“Why did you call me ‘mysterious midnight lily’?” Hitoshi asks again as he subtly shifts his legs, hugging them and bringing them close to his chest. As casually as he tries to do this though, Hitoshi can't help but imagine how strange he must now look, huddled into himself like some kind of turtle.
Denki lets out a small laugh, and the water moves as he nudges Hitoshi’s legs playfully with his foot. “Because your hair looks like a lily that suddenly went ‘fuck it’, drank a lot of coffee, and bloomed all over the course of a midnight.”
Hitoshi can practically feel the smile that tugs at his lips as the light joking tone of Denki’s voice relaxes him. Relaxes him better than any farting bathtub.
“Impressive back story for my hair you got there,” Hitoshi teases.
“What can I say? I’ve always saw myself as a sexy blonde Hemmingway.”
Hitoshi snorts and peers down at Denki’s continuing flirty kicks while trying to ignore Denki's naked torso and his bare ...everything else. “Sexy blonde Jammingwhey you mean,” he says.
A beat of silence and Hitoshi freezes when Denki stops kicking him, his toes curling against Hitoshi’s leg. Fuck. The foot retracts and Hitoshi looks up to see that the smile had also retracted from Denki’s face.
Double fuck.
Denki then emits a sound that isn’t a sigh but isn't ...happy either. Almost like an annoyed huff but if it was...sad.
Hitoshi messed up… didn’t he?
“Denks-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Brain’s not all there if its fried half the time.” Denki musters up a half-hearted chuckle, and Hitoshi can’t help but grip his legs tighter, shame curling inside of him as he realizes that he fucked up again. Good boyfriends didn’t make fun of the person they’re dating. Well, they did, but not like that. Not with actual cutting words.
“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi says bluntly. Words are hard to get out when your mouth feels like chalk and your heart aches at having hurt someone you care about. “Sorry.”
“Dude it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
But it’s not fine. He should be doing something now. Something big. Something like hugging Denki, kissing the breath out of him, whispering to Denki that he is so, so, so sorry for not caring about how wonderful Denki is.
“Sorry,” is all Hitoshi can say.
“It’s fine let's ...let's just drop it okay? Look, now its dropped, splash, gone forever, bye-bye, sayonara, don’t send a letter.”
But Denki isn’t looking at him.
The silence, so tangible that Hitoshi can almost choke on it, returns. Denki’s previous leg movement had caused waves to brush up against Hitoshi’s body. The blond’s fingers silently tap dance on the porcelain of the jacuzzi.
This....
Good boyfriends wouldn’t let this happen, would they? But Hitoshi doesn’t know how to apologize for this or if apologizing is even the right thing to do now. He wishes that there was a guide or a manual or some type of book to teach him when to put his foot in his mouth.
How ironic. The brainwasher who never spoke having to know when to stop talking for his boyfriend’s sake.
The tap dancing suddenly ends and Denki sighs. He glances at Hitoshi (whose wild violet hair is noticeably less “wild”), and Hitoshi can practically feel those gold eyes trace lines over his unclothed body.
Denki then smiles, and that’s when Hitoshi gets worried. Because Denki wears his heart on his metaphoric sleeves and actual bare arms, and each smile (Hitoshi has come to learn) holds something else. This smile now isn’t a “Wow, I love being in this farting tub” smile. It’s one of those smiles he gets when something should be funny...but isn’t. When it’s just grazing the edge of Denki’s insecurity.
“You’re really pretty Toshi.”
An unreadable expression overtakes Denki’s face, and he pushes his wet hair back. Droplets run down his cheeks, like his hair is crying. “All pretty and cool and awesome, with a badass quirk and stuff. How…..charming. I must be the luckiest guy in the world...being your boyfriend.”
Denki stops and bites his lip before continuing.
“Us dating is ...nice,” Denki says, his voice now softer, as if his vocal chords are curling in on themselves. The sound is almost broken, and Hitoshi can’t help but feel nervous, like if this is the calm before the metaphoric electric storm. “Being your boyfriend is ...nice.”
Hitoshi frowns. “I guess?” he says. Dating Denki is “nice”, but it’s a weird way of saying it. Well, maybe not just “nice”. Dating Denki is an experience. One that turns Hitoshi’s world on his head and makes him dizzy in the best possible way. But...why bring that up here of all places? In a freaking bath tub that farts? Couldn’t Denki wait for a better setting that’s less awkward and more...comfortable? Or did almost nudity make Denki freer with his emotions?
Denki laughs, short and clipped, “Nice…” he repeats. “Yeah ...nice…” Then Denki looks away.
The smile on his face isn’t a good one.
Hitoshi grimaces, feels his hands tighten, and he hates that he has to wait for Denki to say whatever he’s going to say. Hates that he can’t ask him what’s wrong or what’s bothering him.
Once again, words sit hard in Hitoshi’s throat.
“Did you know that ...Our friends actually made bets on us?” Denki says, “On how long we’d...well...”
He tips his head back and closes his eyes,
“Stay together,” he finishes.
….What?
What?
What?