Archive of Our Own ^beta

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You go through a normal routine, takeout aside, logging back on to work while your brother plays some video games in his room. A text pops up from your friend. 

Anna: matchmaker$.com 

Anna: get you and Kaoru a rich sugar daddy

You sigh deeply, glancing over your shoulder when you hear a sound. Your brother has peeked around the corner, tentatively standing at the edge of the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks wide eyes as perceptive as ever. 

“Tired from work.” It’s not a lie, exactly. You lean back on your stool, stretching. “You wanna sit down for a bit, give those eyes a rest?” 

“Sitting close to the tv doesn’t hurt your eyes.” He mutters. “Mom just said that so we’d watch less tv.” You laugh, the memory of your stepmother, half frantic in the kitchen as the two of you had your eyes glued to the series finale of Avatar the last Airbender, so engrossed you didn’t realize you were moving closer, washes over you like a gentle wave. 

“She did, yeah.” You pull a stool out and he joins you, resting his arms on the table. “What’s up?” You ask, sensing the tension rather than noticing it. 

“I have friends.” He says. “Just a couple, but um, I like them. They’re nice to me.” 

“Are kids at school not being nice to you?” You immediately cut in, something simmering near the surface evident in your tone. 

“They are!” He flashes his hands, “Calm down. They’re mostly, mostly pretty nice.” He adjusts his glasses. “I just mean, you don’t have friends.” You swallow. 

“I have Anna.” You offer, and he shakes his head. 

“I know people your age usually have more people than that,” He argues, “And you seem lonely. I dunno.” He looks away. “I just, I wanted to ask if it was my fault.” 

“Oh.” Your mouth drops open. “I’m, first of all,” a smile spreads across your face, you can’t even tell if it’s genuine, “First of all, I’m not lonely, I have you, and you are more than enough for me.” He doesn’t let that lie, squirming away from your attempts to hug him. “But um, you know, I see Anna about once a week, maybe once every two weeks. I um, I know people at work-” 

“I didn’t mean friends like that!” He blurts. “I meant like,” he blows out a long breath. “I just don’t want you not doing things because of me. I don’t um,” he looks like he’s struggling for words, this time, when you reach out to touch him, he takes your hand. His palm is clammy. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do things. The reason your life is different.” You press your lips together. The unspoken hangs heavily in the air, that your parent's death had changed everything, that you’d dropped out of grad school three years ago to take care of him, that you’d left a promising career track, friends, a boyfriend, all in a different city. You wonder if he understands this, or if somehow, he just senses the little ticking clock that haunts your dreams reminding you that you’re not spending your twenties like the girls you see on Instagram. That you’re not drinking wine on an island in Greece, that you’re not dating, let alone engaged, and that you don’t have a gaggle of girlfriends to post pictures with. Your account had laid dormant for so long you’d forgotten the password. 

“My life is different now,” you squeeze his hand. “It’s true. There’s no getting around that, but honestly, I’d rather be hanging with you,” you elbow him, grinning, “than on a date with some loser who probably has stinky socks.” Your brother wrinkles his nose. 

“Ew. Boys don’t grow out of that?” 

“Unfortunately.” You have a vivid flash of the pile of laundry your ex had left in your apartment. “They do not.” 

“Ok but promise,” Kaoru holds out a pinky finger. “Promise you’re not gonna miss things because of me, in specific?” There’s a gap between his front teeth that means occasionally sometimes the s sounds coming out of his mouth have a slight whistle. 

“I promise.” You reach out and link your pinky with his. “I do.” You put him to bed, and offer to read him a story. Kaoru was 9, and technically your stepbrother, with your father having remarried after your mother left him when you were a child. Still, the resemblance was uncanny, the same face shape, same cheekbones, same light in his eyes at the promise of a story. He’d shunned the idea of being read to, recently, though he’d fallen back into it when you’d first moved back home after his parents had passed. You’d spoken with his doctors, it’s natural for trauma to make children regress, they’d told you. He’d wet the bed for a full year, something you’d never spoken to him about, instead, you’d begun to wake up early and change his sheets while he took a sleepy shower. You’d read to him then, and tonight he lets you do it again. 

“Read me the Deku one,” he begs, flopping hard on his mattress. 

“I absolutely cannot again,” you say, eyeing the Deku plush, the Deku posters, and the Deku pajamas he’s wearing. “How about the funny alien one, are we down for that?” 

“Fine,” he sighs deeply. “I guess it is funny.” 

“The True Meaning of Smekday,” you start, “Chapter three.” He scoots under the covers, and he’s fallen fast asleep by the time you’re four pages in, but you finish the chapter before you turn the light off. Smoothing his hair and tucking him in. 

Was it that obvious? You wonder. The lonely ache that tears at your chest start to awaken now as you pad through your empty childhood home. You trace a framed photo of you in your prom dress, your date had gone on to study software engineering, and he was working for some hotshot startup in Silicon Valley. Your ex in New York had moved on painfully quickly when it became obvious you weren’t moving back. You flop hard on the couch and open your texts from Anna. 

Anna: matchmaker$.com 

Anna: get you and Kaoru a rich sugar daddy

You: it looks like an escort site

Anna: it’s not!!! 

Anna: I know someone that works there, she’ll hook you up 

You sigh deeply. Your cousin Anna was a moderately successful influencer, who had on multiple occasions claimed to be taking you out to lunch only to try and haggle a free meal in exchange for clicks. 

Anna: for realsies. You can’t get the signup link from just anyone, it’s exclusive. 

You: aaaaa are you sure?

Anna: ARE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING

Anna: SHUT UP IM FILLING IT OUT FOR YOU RIGHT NOW

You: ANNA NO

You: Anna, please. Let me. 

Anna; You have fifteen minutes. If you haven't submitted it, I’m gonna do it for you.

You sit straight up on the couch. 

You: Deal. 

Anna: AMAZING 

You pull up the application she sent you on your laptop, and rub your eyes, filling out the questions to the best of your ability about your moral leanings, whether you want children, or you smoke, and then pause, hovering over the final question box. 

Is there anything else we should know about you?

You swallow, hands shaking, and text Anna asking for an extension before going to your cabinet and taking a bottle down, pouring yourself a glass of scotch before sitting back on the couch. The cursor blinks. You take a deep breath. 

Is there anything else we should know about you? 

Moved back home to raise my younger brother after his parents died. Don’t know a lot of people in the city. 

You bite your lip and take a huge gulp of your drink. You delete that. 

Is there anything else we should know about you? 

You pause, staring at the screen for a full five minutes, completely paralyzed, torn between hiding your baggage to make yourself palatable and laying it all out on the table. You down the rest of your drink and then type quickly, before you can stop yourself. 

After my father and stepmother died three years ago, I moved back to this city. I left everything I’d built, relationships, a job, and half a graduate degree. I haven't been on a date in three years, if I was ever competent in bed I’d definitely forgotten anything I knew, and from what I remember of sex I probably remember even less about flirting. I know people feel bad for me. I know it’s pitiable, I know that’s how people see me. 

But what you should know is that I don’t regret it. I can’t bring myself to. Not for a single second, and sometimes that makes me feel bad like I’m not mourning the right way, that it’s fucked that I’m happier now than I ever was on my own, that tragedy gave my life purpose. But it’s the truth, and you should know it. 

You hit send then, refusing to let yourself edit anything else, letting your application zoom off into the internet before flopping back on the couch with a loud groan. 

____

You’re spooning ravioli onto your brother’s plate when your phone buzzes loudly. You jump a mile, you only ever got texts from work or Anna, and both of those had their special text tone. You glance at it. 

UNKWN: Hi y/n! This is Zaire, your matchmaker from the MatchMaker$ service! 

You choke on your orange juice. Your brother notices, raising his eyebrows. You cover to the best of your ability waiting until he’s retreated upstairs to answer.

You: Hi Zaire! This is fast I didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly. 

Zaire: well, Anna put in a good word for you

Zaire: But honestly you scored with such a high percentage of answers with this person I couldn’t let a second go to waste! 

Zaire: don’t let this offput you, but he hasn’t had a lot of matches. I’m going to send you his profile, scrubbed of all identifying information, and you let me know if you’d like to meet up, we will arrange it so you know you’re safe. 

You: aaa ok 

You: suppose it couldn’t hurt to read!

Zaire: That’s the spirit!!

Zaire: MI.exe 

You flip through your file after your brother’s gone to bed, family-oriented, absent father, strong value system, intense career, you squirm a little at the idea of going out with someone who’s so much larger than you, 6’4? However, with that being the only potential red flag you feel you have no choice. 

You: I’m in! I’d like to meet him. 

Zaire: Incredible - first dates are usually just one step above casual, feel free to gut-check your outfit with me, that’s what I’m here for! I’ll make sure neither of you is overdressed. 

Zaire sends you details, a restaurant downtown, a dress code, a time, and the menu in advance, and asks if you have any allergies. You float through your week, banging your head on the cabinet when you open it to get cereal for your brother. He asks you a question though, that catches you off guard, a couple of hours before you leave. You’re attempting an eyeliner look when he comes in and sits on your bed. 

“Can I,” He starts, “How um, how do I, can I ask you something?” You nod, glancing over your shoulder with concern. 

“Anything.” You answer, and he nods. 

“I um,” he fidgets. “How do you stand up for someone else, when you’re smaller?” You put your eyeliner pencil down and come to sit with him on the bed. 

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning back on your palms. 

“There’s a kid in my class,” he mumbles, fixing his glasses, “Some of the older kids pick on him, and he’s told the teachers but they don’t care.” He looks away. “I wanna help, but I uh, I dunno.” 

“Hey, squirt,” you elbow him, “I’m proud of you. For wanting to help, even though I can tell you’re scared.” He nods, fidgeting. “You can’t get into a physical fight, alright, that’s not a good idea.” He looks a little dejected, nodding. “But you’d be surprised how many people back down when you stand up for yourself verbally, most kids are all talk. You can also offer the kid they’re picking on comfort and friendship, and that’s ultimately more valuable than any fighting you could do for him.” 

“Yeah?” Your brother lifts his head. 

“Yeah, be nice to the kid.” You stretch a little, “You can do so much by just being sweet to people, listening to them, making them feel less alone, and they’re less likely to pick on you if there’s two of you.” He nods like he’s thinking about it hard. 

“O-okay.” He adjusts his glasses. “I’m gonna think about that.” You watch him leave, struck for the millionth time by how you’re so unsure about anything you tell him, how much of parenting is stumbling around in the dark pretending you know where you’re going. You’re still thinking about it as you wave to Kaoru and his babysitter, as the uber takes you across town, as you find a small patch on your legs you forgot to shave. You’re a few minutes early, heart racing, considering texting Zaire, considering texting Anna, considering running into the woods and changing your name. You take a deep breath, and no matter what happens tonight, you remind yourself that you’d have Kaoru. That you’d have that house, and the stability that comes with monotony. 

Your first surprise is that while the restaurant is fully staffed, it’s empty. Someone takes your jacket, and you’re so surprised you let a hostess lead you across the room to the only occupied table. You don’t notice the softly crackling fires, the way the light gleams off the dark wood accents on the white walls, the way that even though you’re the only people in the restaurant, every place is set with full silverware and water glasses. You don’t see any of those things, because standing at the side of the table, at a stately 6’4, is the number one pro hero Deku. He’s bigger in person than he is on TV, in a mostly buttoned white shirt that’s impeccably tailored, and a gray suit jacket. You stop walking, surprised, and he touches the back of his neck sheepishly before striding over to you. 

“Hi,” he says quickly, “I assume, um, based on the reaction you know who I am.” You nod, swallowing in an attempt to bring more moisture to your mouth. “Is it a problem?” He towers over you. “Because no pressure, no problem, I can call you an uber, my treat, I don’t want you to think-” 

“It’s fine.” You squeak and then reach out a hand to him. He shakes it awkwardly. “I’m sorry, by the way, if that was weird, I haven’t um, well if you got my file,” you feel your face warm, “Then you know I haven’t been on a date in a while.” He laughs, and the sound is physically warming. 

“It’s not in mine.” He says, giving you a soft smile. “But actually, same.” he steps to the side and pulls out a chair for you, “Ah, please, I’m,” he looks nervous again, “Please, sit.” You do, smoothing your dress as he sits down across from you. “So I’m, I’m Midoriya Izuku.” He offers, and your face warms when you realize you haven’t introduced yourself. 

“Oh ah, Ln Fn.” You take a deep breath. “So you’re um, you’re a pro hero.” He nods. “I’m um, I work in marketing.” He nods again, as a waiter comes by and fills each of your water glasses. “Whatever I was expecting,” you laugh a little, stomach twisting with nerves. “It wasn’t this.” Midoriya nods sheepishly, eyes flicking from the way the firelight is reflecting on the high planes of your face, to the perfect double bow of your lips. 

“You seemed so earnest.” He says, taking a sip of his water. “I’ve been um, I’ve been in the database for a while, I guess I’m difficult to match or something.” He runs his fingers through his carefully parted green curls, “I mean, ah, I don’t want to insinuate that I’m difficult, I think I’m, um,” he thinks about it, “I don’t think I’m difficult.” He finishes lamely. 

“No I get it,” you say quickly, feeling your stomach roil with nerves. “This is weird, please, don’t worry we can um, we can be accommodating of each other’s inexperience, or I suppose, in my case, inefficacy.” He laughs again. 

“Ah, okay, cool. Good.” He scoots his chair in. “So you’ve been in this city for three years?” You nod. “What do you think?” 

“It’s much bigger than where I was,” you consider, as a basket of bread is placed in front of you. “I never thought I’d want to live out here, but I like it a lot.” He nods. “A lot changed in my life very quickly, I guess.” 

“Can I ask what made you want to date again?” His eyes are bright and alive, the same deep green color as his hair. “After three years?” 

“Oh gosh,” you fold forward, “So my father and stepmother passed when Kaoru was six, and um, the thing about grieving while caring for a small child is that you can’t be     externalizing those feelings all the time, even if they’re there.” You look down at your hands in your lap. “I think it was a bit freeing, to just stop all self-focus, and focus on him. He needs me, it’s been easy.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t.” He pushes gently. “I was wondering why you decided to meet me, tonight?” You let out a long slow breath. 

“Kaoru said something to me,” your hands fly to your face shyly, “About being worried that he was ruining my life, or taking things away from me because I’ve just been focused on him, and I um, I thought it’s true, I am lonely.” You pick the menu up, feeling self-conscious. “I feel worse that he noticed, I try to keep my problems off his plate.” 

“I’m sure he’d want to help you.” Midoriya offers, “What’s he like?” He asks and gets the pleasure of watching you light up like a firecracker. 

“He is the best kid,” you smile, exuding warmth, “He’s kind and patient, and so, so smart. He’s in advanced math this year.” You dig in your pocket for your phone instinctively. “Would you wanna see a picture?” 

“Yeah,” Midoriya leans forward in his seat, and the chair underneath him groans a little. You select one of him holding his certificate of excellence from coming third in the spelling bee and turn your phone around to show the pro hero. “He looks just like you,” Midoriya breathes, surprised. 

“He is pretty wonderful.” You put your phone away. 

“Did you have to think about it?” He blurts, and you raise your eyebrows, he adds more context, “Sorry if this is rude, I mean, did you have to think about leaving your old life to come here and do this.” 

“No.” The answer is easy. “It was muscle memory. He’s family.” Midoriya nods thoughtfully. 

“Did you always want to be a hero?” You ask and he nods emphatically. 

“From the day I could pronounce the word,” he thinks about it, “Honestly maybe earlier. I um,” he looks self-conscious again. “I had a pretty lonely childhood, I would have killed to have a sister like you.” 

“I am far from perfect,” something crosses your face, just a flash of darkness, a microexpression, but he picks up on it easily. 

“What’s up?”

“Oh, ah,” you lean back in your seat, “He asked about what he should do if he sees another kid being picked on.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I’m not sure I gave good advice.” 

“Can I ask what you said?” Midoriya glances down. “And um, I can order for you, if you’d like.” 

“That would be amazing.” You push the menu across the table. “And I said that sometimes offering the person being picked on comfort, and friendship, can be ultimately more powerful than getting into a physical fight.” Midoriya softens immediately, inching his hand across the table towards yours almost instinctively. 

“I agree.” He says quietly, and the waiter comes over. “We’ll have a bottle of the 2007 Pinot Grigio, and,” He turns to you, “Do you like fish?” You nod. “She’ll do the smoked salmon, and I’ll do the filet mignon.” The waiter bows and then disappears. 

“So tell me about you,” You say, feeling awkward, distracted a little by the way his smile is perfect and dazzling. There’s an odd feeling of comfort that comes with his presence, you find your nerves are slipping away. 

“Oh gosh,” he thinks about it, “Aside from work I have some video games I like, spending time with friends, work kind of bleeds into a lot of other parts of my life.” He shrugs. “Everywhere I go people know who I am.”     

“That sounds exhausting.” You give him a weak smile. “I’m definitely on the introverted side.” 

“Me too!” He blurts excitedly and gives you for the first time, a less practiced, less polished smile. It’s boyish and genuine, your heart does a backflip in your chest. The conversation continues, warmth creeping up your cheeks as food comes and goes, as the bottle of wine empties. His hand inches across the table, and lands less than a centimeter from where yours is resting, but you don’t touch, just sit there millimeters apart for the entire dinner. The light outside dies, and eventually, you sigh and check your phone. 

“I had to pay a babysitter,” you confess reluctantly. “I’ve got to be home before midnight.” Midoriya looks shocked, checking his own phone. 

“It’s so late,” He murmurs, “I hadn’t realized.” He stands then and offers you a helping hand out of your chair. “I’d meant to um,” he shakes his head, “I’d meant to tell you around nine, to ask if you had a sitter, or a friend watching your brother.” You shake your head. “But I lost track of time.” Without thinking, you slip your hand into his, and he pulls you slightly closer so that your shoulders brush. 

“We could share an uber home?” You offer. He looks embarrassed. 

“I have a driver.” He confesses. “If you don’t mind me knowing where you live, I’ll have him drop you off.” 

“Oh gosh, isn’t your apartment in the center of the city? It’s out of your way.” You turn to him, and he laces his fingers in between yours. 

“I really would just love to spend the extra half hour with you.” He says, looking sheepish again, “If that’s alright.” A slow warm smile, the kind of involuntary girlish reaction you hadn’t felt in years, spreads across your face. 

“I’d love that.” He squeezes your hand. 

“Good.” He helps you into your coat, even though it’s summer, the night air is cold. Before you can do anything, he presses some bills into the hand of the woman working coat check, and you’re suddenly struck by the fact that no bill had been presented. As if he can read your mind, Midoriya speaks up. 

“I paid while you used the restroom.” He slips an arm around your waist as the two of you walk out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t want to give you a chance to reach for your wallet.” You laugh. 

“I’ll get you next time.” You offer, and he rubs a circle on your waist. 

“No,” He murmurs, as the car pulls up in front of you and he lets go of you, opening the door. “I don’t think I’ll be letting you do that.” 

“I have to pay some time,” you argue, scooting across the seat and he laughs, getting in after you and closing the door. 

“No.” He says again. “You don’t.” He looks nervous for a single second before reaching a hand out tentatively towards you. Your heart thrums in your chest, and you slide across the expensive leather seat underneath it. He wraps a huge arm around you, and sighs. “It’s nice to be close to someone,” he says, the words falling from his lips before he can stop them, fuck, what an odd thing to say to a person, he probably sounded like some virginal-

“It is,” you sigh, relaxing against him, cutting off his internal monologue. He smells good, like sparkling citrus and pine, and he touches you so gently that your eyes nearly drift shut. “Sorry,” you look up at him, “I’m exhausted, and it’s only Thursday.” He laughs a little at that.

“Thanks for making a weeknight work,” he says, “I have a few things I gotta do for work this weekend.” 

“Oh, like saving the city?” You suggest brightly, “Rescuing damsels in distress?”

“There are a few kittens in trees,” He confirms grimly, “Someone gotta get them down.” You giggle, and the sound knocks the breath from his chest. “Or I’d want to see you again.” He blurts, and you laugh, looking nervous and shy. “Right away, I mean, but I can maybe, I could see you late on Saturday?” You nod. 

“Yeah, I could do that.” You hand him your phone. “Put whatever bat signal I should use to contact you in here.” 

“The bat signal is antiquated.” He tells you, pulling his sleeve back to reveal a silver chain bracelet. “This vibrates if they need me.” You look for a clasp on the bracelet and realize there isn’t one. He must never be able to take it off. 

“They can just call you? Any time?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

“That’s the deal. I don’t get a lot of private time, but uh,” he reaches out and cups your face, thumb sinking into the plush of your cheek. “Maybe we don’t have to talk about work right now?” 

“Maybe.” You whisper, and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours softly. You feel a bundle of nerves burst in your stomach, but he guides you, one hand on your face, one on your hip. It’s soft, and a little sweet, but there’s a needy undercurrent, it’s been a long time since either of you has been touched. You’re not sure who initiates the movement, you’d both deny it if asked, but you slide into his lap, straddling him, and he guides the movement, hands flying to your back, squeezing you against him. 

“Wait,” he lifts you effortlessly, adjusting your weight on his thighs, before kissing you again, it’s tender and deft, and the car moves through the city, panes of light passing over the two of you. Your hands move up to tangle in his hair, and even at the slightest tug, he groans into your mouth, holding you tighter, hands squeezing your thighs, your waist, your hips. You keep kissing, feeling the hum of the engine radiating through your bodies,  you hold him tightly and he reciprocates until the car slows to a stop and he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes closed. You sit like that, in the quiet, for a full five minutes before he releases your thighs. You expect him to be embarrassed, sheepish maybe like he had been in the restaurant, but instead, his eyes sparkle in the darkness in a way that makes you feel very small and soft. He sits up and cups your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Can I give you my number?” You whisper, feeling silly, and he nods. You palm your phone to him and watch him text himself. He glances at your house, at the fence around the yard, at the porch with furniture on it. He struggles with something that it would take you time to understand. 

“Be safe, for me, huh?” He kisses you again. 

“I will.” You promise, not entirely sure what he means. He opens the car door for you, and when your feet hit the pavement it’s a hard rush back to reality. The light in your brother's room flicks off, and you sigh, before turning back to the car. 

“I’d walk you to the door, but uh,” He starts, and you shake your head. 

“It’ll be a bit before I’d want you to meet him, I just-” You manage, and he flashes his palms, cutting you off. 

“Of course.” He grins. “See you Saturday.” 

“See you Saturday,” you repeat, then nearly trip on the uneven sidewalk. Immediately you feel strong arms around your body and feel a strong breeze blow your hair back, as Midoriya catches you, and stands you back up, hands lingering on your waist for a second. 

“Breaking promises already,” He teases. “I said safe.” 

“Yes, yes sir,” you say weakly, opening your gate. “Night, Midoriya.” His cheeks go a little red, it’s been a long time since a woman even called him by his family name. 

“Goodnight.” You float up the walkway and into the house, and check in with the babysitter, getting yourself a glass of water before padding up the stairs to check on Kaoru. His fake sleeping is good, but not perfect, you see the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the stuffed animal that’s always on the floor when you come in to wake him up. 

“Hey squirt,” You say softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, and admire the care he puts into the performance. “How was it?” He rubs his eyes. 

“It was okay.” He mumbles. “I get scared when you go places.” You take his hand, rubbing a tiny circle in it. “I’ve talked to Patrice about it.” 

“Good.” Patrice was the therapist Kaoru spent an hour with twice a week, sometimes they’d talk, and sometimes he’d just color. “Are you anxious right now?” His mouth twists. 

“I don’t want you to think you can’t go out because I’m a baby,” tears, probably exacerbated by the fact that he’s awake well past his bedtime, start to well in his eyes. “But it’s hard.” His voice is small and pinched, you reach around and give him a squeeze, heart racing when you realize he’s in his Deku pajamas. 

“I promise.” You whisper. “I promise to always come home.” He nods, wiping his eyes, scowling. “You want me to read to you?” He nods again, and you get up and take the book off of the shelf. 

______

You’re sitting at your desk the next day when your phone buzzes, again with the generic ringtone that makes you jump. You avoid the odd looks from your coworkers at your borderline theatrical gasp and check to see who it is. 

Midoriya: I’m distracted 

Midoriya: that doesn't happen often, I’m trying to do paperwork and I’m thinking about you. 

You: oh dear 

You: perhaps you shouldn’t see me again

Midoriya: or perhaps I should see you sooner 

Midoriya: all joking aside I had a wonderful time with you. 

You: I did too!

Midoriya: did everything go alright with the babysitter? 

You: ah sort of 

You chew your lip, wondering how honest you could be without turning him off, without revealing more than Kaoru would want you to share with his hero. 

You: if I tell you something you have to promise not to be weird about it. 

Midoriya: deal 

Midoriya: but if this is about press coverage of me I promise I’m never dating whoever the magazine is printing me with 

You: oh oh no

You: it’s about Kaoru

Midoriya: Okay, shoot. 

You: he still freaks out a bit when I go anywhere, especially at night. Because his parents died in a car accident coming home from a date

Midoriya: ahhh

Midoriya: I understand

Midoriya: Can I say something maybe too forward to you? 

You: go ahead haha

Midoriya: you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to be a perfect parent, but not only are you not his parent, but the idea of perfection is also ridiculous 

Midoriya: you’re doing your best. 

You: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

You: that’s very kind of you.

Midoriya: you didn’t internalize a word of what I said, huh?

You: oh absolutely not. 

Midoriya: we’ll work on it. Saturday. I’m 90% sure I’ll have a few hours off. 

You: I’m looking forward to it. 

You put your phone down, hunching over your laptop, when it buzzes again, this time it’s a phone call. You swipe to answer, standing and bringing it to your ear, speaking in a hushed voice as you jog to the stairwell at your office for privacy. 

“Hello,” your voice is hushed. “Can I help you?” 

“Ms. L/n?” The woman at the end sounds bored. “We picked up your brother, this is the District four police station.” 

“Oh, my god.” Fear clutches at your heart. “Is he alive?” Your world shifts and the ground slides out from under you. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman says, “He’s alive, just started a fight with some other kids. You’ll have to come down and see if they wanna press charges.” 

“He’s nine,” you snap, suddenly on the defensive, “I, he’s-” 

“Ma’am you really oughta come down here.” You take a deep breath and hang up the phone. You barely grab your things, forgetting your jacket and clattering down the staircase, unwilling to wait for the elevator. You fly across town, and stammer your way through the front desk, so nervous you’re visibly trembling, but none of the cops will tell you where he is, they just direct you to a waiting area where there are two women already. They’re much older than you, with bleached hair and expensive outfits. 

“Are you his mother?” One of them snaps. “Tachi Momo,” she says, introducing herself angrily, “If your mongrel of a son put his hands on my child-” 

“And I’m Honda Yuki,” the other woman says, standing and turning to you, “And you bet your ass we’ll be pressing charges, there was a pro hero who saw the whole thing, your son antagonized and then hit my son,” she inspects you, you’re frozen, rooted to the spot, so angry speech is failing you. “Typical.” She scoffs. “Of course, have a baby out of wedlock and raise a delinquent.” 

“Shoulda let the state raise it.” The other woman says catlike eyes narrowed. 

“I’m his sister,” you snap, so angry you’re visibly shaking, “First of all, and second of all Kaoru’s the smallest kid in his grade, there’s no fucking way he antagonized your kids, he’s shy and intelligent, he’s,” you search within yourself, “And brilliant and kind.” You take another step towards them. 

“If you come any closer,” one of them says haughtily. “I'll have you charged with assault, my husband works for the mayor, you know, they don’t send siblings to prison together-” 

“No one’s goin’ to prison.” A deep voice cuts through the small room and you turn to see a huge hulking man standing in the doorway. He’s blonde, with a scar on the right side of his face and an extremely recognizable costume. Black and orange, with touches of green. He leans against the door frame and then lumbers forward. “I saw the whole thing.” He touches your shoulder. “Two older kids picked on the little one, he got a good hit in before I jumped in. Their kids are coolin’ off in the holding cell. Kaoru’s in a waiting room.” You whirl around, and he reads the desperation in your face, the fear, and softens. “Let’s go see him, yeah?” 

“Wait just a minute,” One of the women says, “You put my Rindou in a holding-” 

“Yeah,” Pro hero Dynamight turns around, an evil grin on his face, “Ya want a cell of your own, or are ya gonna keep your fuckin’ trap shut?” The woman looks scandalized but backs down immediately. He squeezes your shoulder. “This way.” You wordlessly, still shaking, follow him down a hallway and into a stairwell. He lets the heavy door shut behind you. “You want a second?” He asks quietly. “I can see your hands shakin’.” 

“Oh my god,” you choke out, covering your face with your hands and leaning against the wall. “He’s,” you try to take a deep breath, and find you can’t, your eyes well with hot tears, “He’s all I have.” You manage, before starting to cry, the endorphins of the last half hour breaking over you. “He’s,” you try again, “Please, he’s such a good, a good kid.” Dynamight stands in front of you, unreadable, arms crossed. You give yourself ten good seconds of breathing slowly before looking back at him. “Thank you, I can’t, I’ll never be able to repay you, you’re um,” you wipe your face, “Oh god you’re such a big deal I can’t believe you were there and you cared about some kid, I-” 

“‘S my job to protect people.” He interrupts you. “I was on patrol, just doin’ my job, they pay me enough you don’t owe me shit.” You shake your head, brushing off his words. 

“You don’t understand,” you nearly start crying again. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a mess, I-” he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket and you wipe your face with it. It comes away sooty and stained with your makeup. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, “You uh, you got some,” he gestures to your cheek, where your tears have left a huge black smudge from your eyeliner. You rub at it hard, but it only spreads the makeup around. He takes the handkerchief from you, and holds your chin steady with one hand, wiping delicately at it with the other. He inspects you clinically, wide innocent eyes, pretty even when you were sobbing, and you’d been ready to go toe to toe with the bitchiest woman he’d ever met. He takes his time, feeling your pulse racing under your skin, measuring the way you’re willing to make eye contact, and decides you must not be starstruck at all. Good. “Got it.” He withdraws his hands and you sigh. 

“Thank you.” You take a deep steading breath. “Is he okay?” 

“Little black eye,” Dynamight confirms. “But he’s pretty chilled out, I uh,” he looks a little sheepish, fuck he’d have done more if he’d realized the kid had such a pretty legal guardian, “I got him a coloring book.” You light up like he said he’d handed Kaoru a million dollars. 

“You’re a lot nicer than you seem on TV,” you grant him a dazzling smile, “I’m ready, if you um, if you can show me where to go.” He nods, and leads you out of the stairwell, and further down the hallway to a room filled with kids' toys and books. Kaoru’s alone, sitting at a table. His glasses are gone, and he’s sporting a huge bruise below one eye, but he looks calm, though you can see puffiness in his face, he’d cried hard not too long ago. You push the door open and run inside, he gets up and you swing him off his feet, hugging him tightly. He holds you back, burying his face in your neck. 

“I’m sorry about my glasses,” he says, and you can hear how much he’s been crying in his voice. “They broke, I know you said if I lost them again-” 

“I don’t care.” You cut him off, “I don’t care, I'm just so glad you’re okay.” He nods, and Dynamight turns to leave, cursing himself for not finding a way to get your number. At that moment, a young woman pokes her head into the room. 

“Ms. L/n, we have some paperwork for you to fill out.” You sigh, putting Kaoru on the ground again. 

“Be right back.” You pat his head, and look to Dynamight, “Is it too much to ask you to wait with him for a few minutes, I-” 

“Not at all.” He interrupts you. “Get outta here.” You follow the woman out and spend the next few minutes signing Kaoru out. When you return, you hover at the door, listening to the conversation. 

“So if you’re fightin’ someone bigger than you,” you hear the pro hero say, “First of all ya should run, I don’t want your sister comin’ in and kickin’ my butt for givin’ your ideas.” You hear Kaoru giggle. “But if they got your back against a wall, whatcha gotta do is use their momentum against ‘em. Like this.” There’s some sound of movement, you assume a demonstration occurs. 

“Woah,” You hear Kaoru say. 

“But don’t pick fights or ah, if you do, you didn’t hear anythin’ from me, got it?” Dynamight rasps. 

“Got it,” Kaoru repeats, and that’s when you re-enter the room. You observe the scene, Dynamight is squatting on the rug, even bent like this he’s still taller than Kaoru standing up. 

“Hey,” He says, grinning sheepishly at you. “We were just-” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave to Kaoru, “Got your stuff?” He nods. “How about ice cream?” you watch your brother's face split into a smile. 

“Can Dynamight come?” he asks, tugging on your shirt, “Please, please, he deserves ice cream too.” 

“Ah,” you look over at him nervously. “I’m sure he’s very busy.” 

“My shift ended half an hour ago.” He admits. “I was on my way out when I heard those women talkin’ to you like that.” You swallow and squeeze your brother. “I’ll come with ya little man.” He reaches out and ruffles Kaoru’s hair. “There’s uh,” he says, “There’s a place around the corner, but d’ya mind if I change outta my suit? I don’t wanna attract too much attention. If a villain picks a fight with me you’ll get in the way.” You nod, but a few minutes later when he meets you in the waiting room, tall, broad, and handsome, you can’t imagine he’ll attract any less attention than he did when he was wearing his costume. His shirt is black, as are his pants, and the baseball cap he’s got on backward might obscure his identity, but his hulking silhouette gives him away completely. 

Kaoru chatters happily to him at the ice cream parlor down the street, and you can’t help but watch the way he nods, the way he engages the younger boy, swallowing his hand in a high five when Kaoru starts to talk about the flat teeth apatosauruses have. 

“They like plants,  yeah?” He says, and Kaoru nods, rewarding him with a gap-toothed smile. 

“I gotta pee,” Kaoru announces, darting off to the bathroom gleefully. You let out a long breath. 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, unwilling to make eye contact with the blonde. “I, I understand that you probably have important or cool things to do.” 

“What makes ya think I wanna go back to my empty apartment so bad?” He says, adjusting the baseball cap. “He’s a sweet kid.” 

“I’ll never be able to repay you.” You lean forward, and there’s something in the plainness of the statement that hits him hard. “Not ever.” 

“That’s my job,” he protests and you shake your head. 

“He’s my whole world.” Your lips twitch. “Fuck, and you know what, it’s not your job to stand up for people like me. I know plenty of people who would have let those bitchy moms lay into me.” His chest puffs out a bit. 

“Yeah, well, not on my watch.” He looks down at your melting ice cream. “If ya, If ya want. No pressure. I’d love to take you out sometime.” You couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d thrown the cone in your face. 

“What?” 

“I,” his ears color but he plows forward. “Think you’re really pretty.” He grins, some of his confidence returning. “Plus,” he looks over at Kaoru’s empty seat, “Can’t let spend all your money on Deku merch for the kid.” That makes you giggle. “Think he’d like a Dynamight plush? They’re sold out in most places but,” he grins, leaning back in his chair. “I know a guy.” 

“Do you?” You grin, leaning forward. 

“You got some ice cream on your face.” He informs you slyly, and you feel  your skin burn with embarrassment as he takes the upper hand again, “Nah,” he watches you wipe your mouth, “Not there.” You wipe your cheek. “Not there either.” 

“Where?” You whine, a touch of petulance to your tone. 

“Here.” He reaches out, and flicks a finger in your ice cream, smearing it on your nose. “See, you-” 

“Dynamight!” You giggle, unable to stop yourself from swatting at him. He grins widely, showing off sharp canines and his mean smile. “I can’t believe you just did that!” You swat at him again and he ducks it easily. 

He drives you home, and insists on it, patting Kaoru on the head before leaning against his car door. 

“So what about it?” He says arms crossed in a way he knows makes his muscles bulge. “Gonna let me take you to dinner?” You think about Midoriya, think about his soft smile, his intelligence, his dark, needy kiss. It’s been a few years, though, since anyone has asked you out, and the more you think about it the more you realize there’s no way he’s just seeing you, right, he’s the number one pro hero? 

“Yeah,” you grin, handing him your phone. “I’d like that. I have plans on Saturday, but maybe sometime next week?” He nods, texting himself on your phone as Kaoru dashes inside. “What do you want to do?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin. 

“Bring the kid. I’ll cook.” 

“You want me to bring Kaoru?” You raise your eyebrows. He shrugs, glancing up at the house. 

“I gotta figure you’re getting a babysitter for your plans on Saturday, that’s expensive but what I’m thinking is that Kaoru’s probably not used to you bein’ away, and you won’t be able to focus on me if you’re thinking about him. And I want you focused on me.” You can’t fight the soft smile that spreads across your face, and he’s got one to match, patting your shoulder. “I’ll see ya on Sunday. Cool?” You nod. 

“Yeah,” You feel the weight of the day fall off your shoulders. “Cool.” 

____

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Anna flops on your bed, watching you try on the dress you’d picked up especially for your date on Saturday. “Two pro heroes?” You sigh deeply, twirling a little, inspecting your body in the dress. 

“I am so nervous.” You confess. “For either of them, Anna, they’re tall and handsome and cool and I am this,” you gesture to your body, “The most action I’ve seen in years is from the vibrator in my desk.” 

“Oh god,” She rubs her eyes. “Well don’t say that to them.” 

“I wouldn’t!” You protest. “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, I swear.” You rake your fingers through your hair. “I’m sure I can find a way for this to blow up in my face, like, absolutely positive.” She shrugs. 

“Or you could stop being anxious and enjoy the ride.” 

“I am incapable of that.” You lean into the mirror and blend your under-eye concealer a little more. 

“Shame.” She smirks. Shameful.”

“That I was aware of,”  you giggle, and it’s him who scoots closer to you this time. “No, you look like,” you laugh again, nervousness taking over, “You look like you’re plotting.” 

“I’ve never plotted in my life.” He grins, taking your hand, unable to stop himself from touching you. “I”m a hero, we don’t plot we just show up and save the day.” You close the space between your bodies, leaning against him as he presses your hand over his heart. “I swear on my life you’re gonna have a good time.” 

“Well your life is pretty valuable,” you squeeze his hand, unable to stop yourself from eyeing the glint of his bracelet.

“Mmm, so better take my word for it huh?” He’s radiating warmth as you speed through the city, and you feel him let out a long breath. “I wasn’t sure you’d wanna see me again.” He says quietly. “I know that it’s a lot.” 

“It’s not really.” You blurt, and he looks down at you, a kind skepticism in his eyes. “I mean I put on my dating profile that I’m an orphan and essentially a single mother,” he shakes his head, “I did! And I didn’t think anyone would still want to go out with me knowing that I’ll always have competing priorities.” 

“Well,” Midoriya says, and you watch him mentally recalibrate something, his thought process clear on his handsome face. “I think it would be difficult for me to spend time with someone who didn’t have those.” He’s still holding your hand to his chest, it feels so small in his own, he rubs a circle in your palm with his thumb. “It ah, it hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll get a call while we’re together.” He shrugs. “And I’ll have to go.” You nod, leaning against him. “And I’m sure, if you got a call that Kaoru was scared, or upset, you’d have to go.” You nod again. “But ah,” He laughs, looking sheepish. “How was your week, and stuff, that was pretty intense of me for a second date, I’m so sorry I-” 

“Oh,” You shrug. “It’s alright I don’t mind intense.” You wonder if you should tell him, and decide that honesty would probably best serve you here. “I actually, um,” you pause, shaking your head as if you’re physically shaking off the fear and anxiety you’d felt getting that phone call. “I had a tough moment this week, I almost called you.” 

“I wish you would have!” Midoriya says, eyes wide, the tone so genuine, you feel a pleasurable warmth pooling in your stomach, the feeling of the taught rubber band of your anxiety relaxing a little. “But sorry, sorry for interrupting, please continue.” You nod. 

“Thanks, actually, what happened was some kids were picking on Kaoru, they got into a fight and I guess some people saw and called the cops, but I was lucky one of um, one of your colleagues got there first.” He just looks down at you, listening. “Of course, they took him back to the station, thankfully he’s fine but getting that phone call at work basically stopped my heart.” 

“Of course.” Midoriya says, squeezing your hand, “Of course it would, did you press charges, is Kaoru okay?” 

“No um,” you shrug, “He’s fine, but the other kid's moms kind of laid into me and I just, in the moment I didn’t even think about it,” you shrug again, and he notes the uncomfortable contortion of your body, unable to stop himself from interrupting again. 

“I’m sure you did the best you could in the moment,” he says softly, and he watches your lips involuntarily twitch downwards. “Oh,” he breathes, “I-” 

“It’s just been a really long time,” your voice is tight and pinched, “Since um, anyone’s been around to be supportive of me, and I,” you reach up and wipe your face as fast as possible, “Sorry, fuck, how embarrassing.” 

“It’s not at all,” He says, fully turning his body towards you, letting you nestle against his chest. “Do you want to keep talking about it?” 

“I didn’t even think about pressing charges,” you shake your head, sniffling, “Even though they broke his glasses, I just, caved when they threatened me, if Dynamight hadn’t been there I might have-” You feel him stiffen at the name of the other pro hero, then relax, as if he was practiced in fully controlling his reactions, but not so controlled as to be able to hide it from you. “What’s up? Do you know him?” 

“Ah,” Midoriya says, and in that single syllable he wonders if you can hear the childhood scraps, the rain boots splashing in a stream, the screaming matches, the blood they spilled trying to out-do each other in school, the reverberation of a mutual explosion of friendship, ambition, and anger. “Ah yeah, we both went to U.A.” He says, remembering that you’d just moved to the city a few years ago, that you likely wouldn’t have tabloid context for their fraught relationship. “I’m so sorry, though, that sounds awful.” You nuzzle into him, and his heart flutters. 

“It was, I’ve been looking forward to um,” you glance up at him shyly, driving nearly all thoughts of vague jealousy, annoyance at Dynamight having been even a few feet from you from his mind. “To get to spend time with you and forget about it.” 

“Good.” He gives you a squeeze. “And if you’d like me to look into what happened with Kaoru-” 

“Oh gosh,” You laugh, “Yeah the number one hero taking the time to help out a little kid who’s being knocked around on the playground-” Just that phrase sends his mind spinning back in time, back to his notebook floating in a puddle, to ducking in hallways to hide from the larger kids to the deep bone ache of loneliness, of not being understood by anyone. 

“You’d be surprised,” He says, modulating his tone to be calm with some effort, “What I have time for, now,” He turns to you, “Any guesses as to where we’re going to dinner?” You light up, shaking your head. “You’re going to love it.” He smiles at you. “And seriously, if you need me, I’ll never be annoyed if you call. If I’m busy, I won’t pick up, but I’ll call ya when I’ve tossed the villain of the moment into the back of a van.” That makes you laugh. 

“I have always felt very safe in this city.” You say softly. Some long cold part of himself warms at your words. 

“That’s uh,” He pauses, “Good. Good, I’m glad.” When you arrive, he helps you out of the car onto the sidewalk in front of a gleaming black skyscraper. He nods at the doorman, who pushes the heavy glass door open, ushering you into a warm lobby with huge, lush green plants and marble floors. The woman at the front desk nods a greeting, and someone else presses the up elevator button for you, you examine your distorted reflection in the brass doors. “Hey,” he says quietly, “It’s okay.” You nod a couple of times. “This makes you nervous, that this is fancy.” You nod again. 

“Yeah, you know,” you pause, “before I came back to this city I went out with my friends and tried new restaurants but now those things feel strange.” He reaches out and rests a hand on your hip. 

“If it helps, no one’s gonna say anything about how you fit in in front of me.” He shrugs. “Perks of being the number one hero, no matter what spoon I use it’s the right one.” The doors open. “Plus, no spoons here.” Your mouth drops open, it’s not a restaurant, but instead a warmly lit small lobby. There’s a receptionist at the mahogany desk, and a water fixture in the corner, with the sound of tinkling music being piped in, and a pleasant cedar aroma in the air. “Welcome to the most exclusive spa in this city.” He says, a soft vulnerable smile on his face. “We’re taking the night off together.” You turn to him, eyes wide. 

“You didn’t.” 

“Oh I did,” He strides forward, taking you with him. “I planned a full night for us.” You can’t stop the smile that blooms on your face and he impulsively leans down, kissing you, cupping your face in two huge hands. “You are so pretty when you do that.” He breathes, and you squirm at the praise. 

“This is so deeply thoughtful.” You shake your head a little in disbelief. 

“You haven’t even tried anything yet,” He chirps, dragging you to the receptionist. “Two for Midoriya.” She nods, typing something quickly into her little computer and then handing you each a little key. 

“There are private locker rooms for men and women on the left,” she points, “There are robes in there, and refreshments.” Midoriya squeezes you, leading you down the hallway, shooting you one last longing glance before disappearing behind the heavy mahogany door. The room is warm and pleasant, and the fluffy robe in the perfect size for you hangs on a hook. There are swimsuits in a basket on the marble counter but you hesitate. What would he do? You wonder, you knew what Anna would say. Take the risk. 

Even if it had been years since you’d experienced intimacy you’d not left yourself completely devoid of pleasure, and in the last few weeks, the pro heroes' huge scarred hands had their starring role in your fantasies. You could do this, you decide, peeling your dress off and storing it in a locker. You follow the instructions, reluctantly washing off your makeup as it says on the sign. You slip into the robe, tying it tightly, assuming the night would start with some kind of massage or facial. You take a deep breath and push the door on the other side of the locker room open. 

On the other side, there’s the sound of soft bubbling water, and the cedar smell intensifies. The room is entirely lit with candlelight, the soft golden glow illuminating an artificial mineral hot spring, you read on a little sign that the water is brought in from the mountains in the north of Japan. He’s not here yet, and you briefly wonder if he’s having the same conversation in his head that you did, wondering what “undress to your comfort” meant on a second date. You inhale slowly and slip out of the robe, hanging it on a hook. You step into the water, cell phone still in your palm. You put the ringer on and set it on the side of the pool, luxuriating in the bubbles and warm water, lacing and unlacing your fingers in your lap. It’s another few minutes before he joins you, in his robe, carrying one of the swimsuits but breathing a sigh of relief when he sees you, most of your body still obscured by the jets. 

“Hey,” he manages, the warmth on your face, the glow from the warmth of the room, he wonders if it’s the closest you’ve ever been too relaxed in front of him. 

“Hey,” you sigh, and it’s a beautiful breathy sound that stops his heart in his chest. 

“Is it alright if I,” he pauses, gesturing to the robe, and you nod, looking away as some old instinct takes over. He joins you, sitting about a foot away from you, leaning back, and closing his eyes for a moment. “Is it too much?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“It’s,” you start, and then stop yourself. “You have to understand that before everything happened, I did um, date and the closest thing I got to a romantic gesture have I had a boyfriend who knew I liked pickles so he’d give me his with a sandwich. No one ever, no one’s made this much of an effort for me before.” He nods. 

“I can’t imagine ever letting someone like you slip through my fingers.” He says quietly. “Maybe it’s because I don’t find it easy to connect with your average person, and I promise not to make every date some kind of event or surprise, but I want you to know I’m trying.” Because sometimes, his brain tacks on, I’ll have to put you second. Or third. You nod a couple of times, taking it in. 

“Can I come over there?” You ask, pointing at the space between you - his mouth goes dry, but he nods. You scoot across the little underwater bench until your thighs brush. He slips a huge arm around your shoulders, and you lay your head on his chest. “We did so much talking on that first date.” You yawn. “Silence is nice too.” He leans down and presses his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your shoulder. 

“It’s rare for me.” He says. “To get any peace. It’s nice to have someone to share it with.” You tuck your legs into your chest and lean harder against him. 

“I think um, and bear with me,” you start, “Kaoru is my whole world. He’s everything, I honestly have a hard time caring about things that aren’t about him, but I think in some ways that’s a defense mechanism, it means that other things can’t hurt me.” He thinks about it. 

“My job can be like that for me,” he says slowly, “Hard to care that you’re sleeping alone when the city’s safety is resting on your shoulders.” He squeezes you. “What went through your head, when you got that call?” 

“Oh, my mind went blank.” You look up at him, “Completely whited out, I don’t remember the uber to the station, I don’t remember anything really until I walked in there and those two moms started snapping at me.” 

“I’d be happy to ensure they never come within fifteen feet of you again.” He says, a boyish grin on his face. “Even though I have my masters but I’m sure there’s something I could do about it.” 

“I appreciate it,” you laugh, “You know I never really thought much about heroes before these last few weeks.” 

“Being a hero was the only thing I wanted for so long,” Midoriya’s voice is raw suddenly like he’s treading ground he’s already worn a painful path in. “And here I am,” he shakes his head, “With, everything. I have everything I ever wanted.” You wait for him to speak for a moment and then nuzzle him softly. 

“And it’s not enough, is it?” You say, so quietly the jets nearly cover your words. You feel him swallow hard. 

“No.” He says, voices low. “It isn’t.” He lets out a long breath. “My apartment is so quiet. I barely see my friends. I signed up for this matchmaking service and I didn’t get a call for six months.” You lift your head, looking up at him. “Seriously. Six Months.” 

“Fuck.” You laugh, a little incredulously. “Lucky me.” Some of the exhaustion seeps from his expression. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his heart hammering in his chest. “We only have a few minutes before our massage.” You sigh happily and nod, his hands fly to your waist and you press your lips against him, kissing him tenderly as he exhibits superhuman self-control and keeps his hands on your hips rather than allowing them to slip lower. You wrap your arms around his neck, the steam rises from the water and he groans softly as you press your chest against his. You kiss for a few minutes before he pulls away, tucking your face into his neck and squeezing you tightly. 

“This is so nice.” You whisper. “Thank you, Midoriya, for doing this for me.” He swallows, a lump had formed in his throat. 

“You’re welcome.” You’re shepherded through a couples massage, a deep facial, and then, skin glowing, completely and utterly relaxed, you’re wrapped in soft, warm towels and led down a hallway. Midoriya hovers just behind you, one hand holding onto the sash of your robe. The service worker opens a door and you gasp, the room in front of you is made entirely of glass, except for the floor, the three walls and ceiling lay the city bare, and it glimmers before you, on the top floor of this skyscraper you can see to the ocean. The room has a bed and a couch in it, as well as a table that’s set for dinner. 

“I know you can’t stay overnight,” Midoriya blurts, “This is just for dinner.” You step into the space, face painted with pure, unadulterated delight. The attendant closes the door as she leaves, and twirl in your bare feet, wanting to see all of it. 

“This is incredible,” you laugh as happiness overtakes you. “And actually,” you rock up onto your tiptoes. “I um, Kaoru is having a sleepover tonight. With our cousin.” He raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh, is that right?” He says, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you luxuriate in the view. You nod, leaning against him. “Dinner,” he kisses your cheek. “Dinner and then we’ll see how you feel.” The food is in several courses, each made of fresh farm-to-table ingredients that leave you pleasantly full without being uncomfortable. You’re sipping your second glass of wine after the last plates have been cleared away when a soft smile spreads across your face. “What’s up?” He asks. 

“Nothing, I just like you.” You giggle softly and take another sip of wine. “And I was wondering, um,” you glance at the bed, “I was wondering if you wanted to um,” 

“Oh my god,” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, plucking the wine from your hands and scooping you out of your chair. “Of course,” he tosses you lightly on the mattress and you laugh, scooting under the covers and watching him do the same, rolling on top of him and settling on his chest. You kiss him softly, just below his collarbone and he laughs. “You’re not gonna like this.” You lift your head and look at him, confused. “I can’t sleep with you until you’re sober.” 

“Midoriya,” you groan, rolling away from him on the bed. 

“I am, so serious.” He says, “Two glasses of wine, in an hour we can, ah,” He blushes, “We can talk about it.” You pout visibly but come back to him, resting your face on his arm. “I’ve    got a reputation to protect, unfortunately.” You sigh, snuggling against him and looking out at the city, glittering in the darkness. “I think,” he says quietly, in a different tone of voice, “I think I almost relaxed tonight.” You laugh, initially at what you think is a joke, but then he gives you a little squeeze. “It’s hard for me, to turn off.” 

“There are other heroes,” You sit up, “There’s even the next generation, I don’t pay much attention to sports festivals but I know they have them.” Midoriya nods, the little fire inside of him burns still, but he knows he’ll have to pass it on before it gets too late, that he’ll have to find someone to mentor, to burden. You kneel next to him, take his hand with both of yours, and rub a circle in his palm. 

“I can’t shake the feeling that there are people out there I could be helping,” He murmurs, rolling on his side. “I think about it all the time. Somewhere out there, a kid like Kaoru’s getting his glasses broken, a woman is hiding from her husband, a villain is cornering a man in an alley, and I’m just, too weak to stop it.” 

“You’re not weak at all,” you protest, “Not at all, Midoriya, you do your best, that’s all that you can do, you need to rest and care for yourself or you won’t be able to save anyone.” He swallows. “There are other heroes. I know they’re not you, but there are other heroes.” 

“Sorry,” He laughs, like he realizes the mood change he’s responsible for too late, “That wasn’t very sexy of me to like, trauma-dump in bed with you.” You sigh deeply, flopping next to him. 

“I, I’ll do the best I can to support you, but just out of curiosity, are you in therapy?” You ask, and he laughs. 

“I’m the number one hero.” He says, a good-natured smile on his face. “I can’t go to a doctor for my feelings, what kind of a message does that send?” You recoil lightly from him, but he notices, “There’s nothing wrong with it for normal people.” He says quickly, “I, I just have to present a strong front, any weaknesses I have can be used against me, and people could get hurt.” 

“Doctors can be discreet.” You scoot a little further away from him on the bed. “And you’re a human person, you have to have weaknesses.” 

“I can’t have them.” He says, sitting up, matching your posture. “I can’t have them, 

people will die if I’m not-”  

“I’m just gonna stop you,” you put a hand up. “Because I can’t be responsible for that, I can’t take that on, I’m raising Kaoru, I have a stressful job, I cannot carry the emotional weight of your psyche, I have my priorities aligned. It’s fine if you don’t want to go to therapy,” you say, and Deku swallows nervously, “But you can’t make me your therapist.” 

“It doesn’t sound fine that I don’t want to go therapy.” He says, raising his eyebrows. “It sounds like I made you upset.” You inhale deeply through your nose. 

“I find it troubling that you’ve made yourself an emotional island. I don’t want dating you to be like managing a relationship with an uncontacted tribe.” He presses his lips together. “I’ve worked very hard to be a person who processes emotion in a healthy way, or at least that I demonstrate those healthy behaviors for Kaoru.” You explain, and he nods, understanding. 

“Ah,” He rolls on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “More unrealistic expectations of perfection, I see.” Your lips twitch, but you don’t smile. “Listen, it’s more complicated than me not wanting to go, I promise. When I say weaknesses, I don’t mean I’m not allowed to be sad, because I am, I’m a person, I get sad. It’s more like, if I tell my therapist my ankle hurts, and then later that week a villain swings them over fire until they tell them what my weaknesses are, and that gets revealed, lots of people will get hurt. There are other heroes, but there’s no one else like me.” 

“But, you also don’t want to go.” You counter, and he nods, at least having the grace to look sheepish. 

“People with bad teeth don’t like the dentist.” He says, and you laugh. 

“People with bad teeth need the dentist the most.” You sit up. “I, this has been lovely, Midoriya, it’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.” He looks shocked.

“So don’t leave.” He says, cutting you off. “Lie down with me, and relax a little, I, I never have the night off like this.” 

“I can’t stay if you’re content being like this,” you start, scooting away from him, and his brows knit together. 

“What about me suggests that I’m content?” He says dryly and you don’t laugh at the deflection.

“I,” You slide off the bed and he sits up, surprised. 

“You’re actually going to go because I don’t want to go to therapy.” He says, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Yep.” Your heart aches in your chest. “Sorry, sorry to have wasted your-” He moves so quickly you don’t even see him do it. 

“I’ll go.” He says, standing in front of you, taking your hands. “I’ll go. If it’s that important to you, I’ll, I’ll find a way to make it happen, there uh, there has to be some kind of support group or something.” You take a shaky breath, and he squats in front of you, speaking softly, “Hey, you’re really upset.” You nod. 

“I don’t know why.” You whisper and he shrugs, reaching out and cupping your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

“Can I hold you?” He asks, and you nod, he wraps his arms around you, standing and rubbing your back. He sighs deeply. “So you’re a runner, that’s good to know.” You laugh at that, and he relaxes just a little. “Do you want to lie down with me?” You nod, letting him lead you back to the bed and tuck you against his chest. 

“You’re big on consent.” You murmur, nuzzling into the softness of his robe. He considers it. 

“I went, very quickly, from a guy that basically no girl wanted anything to do with,” you scoff, “Oh god it’s true, you wanna see?” 

“Of course!” You chirp. 

“When I grab my phone I’ll show you.” He says, grinning. “But I went from a nothing and a nobody to a person with a lot of power, both y’know, physically,” he almost smirks, but he’s so sincere it’s still warm. You squeeze his arm muscle. 

“I still don’t know that these aren’t for show.” You sniff petulantly, and he groans, scooting you up on the bed, so that he’s more propped up on the pillows. 

“Don’tcha worry that pretty little head,” He grins, “I have plenty of demonstrations planned, but anyway I’m just,” he pauses, looking serious again, “Hyper conscious of the power dynamic that’s inherent in any romantic situation I’m in, and I never, ever want anyone to do anything for any other reason than they want to.” You take his hand and squeeze it. “I’m really sorry for making you upset.” He says softly. 

“I’m sorry for running.” You whisper. 

“S’alright,” He starts lightly tracing a pattern on your back. “Maybe this was a lot for a second date.” You lift your head and look at him, answer clear on his fce. “Okay,” He laughs, “Okay maybe I knew it was a lot and I like you, so I wanted to show you how much I like you,” he pauses, “This was a lot, wasn’t it, all of this.” He gestures to the room, to the dinner table, to the city sprawled out before you. 

“Is this just occurring to you now?”  you giggle, and the sound rocks him, it’s soft and sweet and beautiful, and he realizes he needs to hear it again, immediately. 

“I,” he laughs sheepishly, “Yeah, it is.” You sit up again, and grab one of the pillows, thwacking him lightly. 

“Midoriya, sorry, what’s your first name?” You ask, and he blinks a few times, remembering you haven’t kept up with hero things for the fortieth time. 

“In bed with a man and you don’t even know his name,” He says, with mock seriousness. You giggle again and he smiles. “Midoriya Izuku.” 

“Okay, well, Midoriya Izuku of course this is too much.” You laugh, running  your fingers through your hair, “Of course it is, but I can tell that it’s so you that I almost don’t mind.” 

“Are you saying I’m a lot?” He says, a facsimile of offense in his expression. 

“Oh my god of course you are,” You laugh, “It’s not bad, it’s not a bad thing I don’t mind, genuinely, but yes, this was a lot.” 

“I just liked you so much immediately,” He says softly, “I think there’s something about the way we both wrote our profiles that enabled us to kind of skip the information discovery phase of dating, and jump right into something a bit more intense.” You nod slowly. 

“You know something interesting about you?” You scoot across the bed and sit on his lap, straddling him as he takes your hips in his hand. 

“No,” He says, drenched in honesty, “When  you’re sitting like that I don’t think I know my own name.” 

“You’re Midoriya Izuku,” You laugh, “And you realize things out loud.” He blinks a couple times, considering. 

“Yeah,” he nods after a minute, “I do tend to process externally.” He looks distracted, hands running the length of your body, settling on your thighs. 

“Can I,” you say, momentarily overtaken by shyness, “Can I kiss you?” He nods, sitting up and cupping your face, kissing you tenderly. You twine your hands around his neck and he hums softly, wrapping an arm around your waist, crushing your body against his. He rolls over, taking you with him and effortlessly supporting his own weight as he lays you down. You feel his lips on your jaw, on your neck in the valley of your collarbone. You sigh softly, he tugs your robe open, palming your chest as you grind your hips against his. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” You feel your face warm, your discomfort at the compliment you hope will go unnoticed and of course, it doesn’t. He pauses, hovering over you. “You okay?” You hesitate. 

“I don’t think of myself like that.” You say softly, and he hums, cupping your face again, stroking your cheek. 

“That’s not gonna work for me.” He murmurs, “You’re still thinking a lot, I can feel it.” You swallow, unsure of how to respond. “If you tell me to stop, I will,” he says, scooting down on the bed, “But if you pull my hair I’m not gonna feel it, you’re not strong enough for it to register.” You cock your head at him as he pushes your legs apart. 

“M-midoriya,” You stammer, but he’s already pressing his face to your cunt, parting your folds with a deft swipe of his tongue, groaning a little as he hooks his thick arms around your thighs. “Oh,” you gasp, as you feel the rough flat of his tongue circling your clit, your back immediately arches off of the cool, white duvet, “Ohmygod,” you slur as his nose nuzzles against it, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. It feels so good that you can’t sit still, can’t regulate your own breathing, his nose pressing against your clit as he slips his tongue inside you, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. And of course, his eyes, watching you, watching the way you fall apart at his touch. 

He hums softly and it pulls another moan from your lips, the vibrations traveling up your spine. He breaks eye contact with you for a second, you’re not moaning loud enough, he wants you fucking shameless, he wants to crack through your exterior, he wants to see you, see who you are. You’re forced into a semi-upright position, hands flying to your face, a harsh shiver running up your spine. 

“C’mon.” He hums. “C’mon, I’m gonna fuckin’ taste it, I wanna fuckin’ feel you cum, come on.” 

“So close,” you get out, your voice coming in short sharp gasps, “I, I, ohmygod,” your orgasm breaks over you like a wave, you keen loudly and tangle your hands in his hair as he eagerly eats you out, carrying you through your high. He waits until you’ve stopped trembling to scoot up on the bed, to kiss you softly and tenderly. You respond, barely, somehow, cutting through the haze and holding onto him with shaking hands. You’re not sure when he took his robe off, but you wrap your arms around his bare neck and cling to him, shivering. “N-never,” for some reason, your legs are trembling, your teeth are chattering, “Never came that hard.” 

“It’s okay,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “It’s okay, relax, I’m holding you, I’m here,” he kisses your cheek and you latch onto him. “It’s okay, you’re my good girl, did such a good job, cumming for me like that.” You hold him tighter and he wraps his arms around you, settling you on his chest. You hold onto him tightly, and the room cools but your bodies stay warm, his hands travel the length of your spine, resting and softly squeezing your ass, massaging your lower back, rubbing your shoulders. “Can you really stay the night?” He breathes after he’s given you a few minutes to float back into your body, to ground yourself again. You nod into him. 

“Feel safe.” You mumble, and he tucks your head under his chin. “How, how did you do that?” He laughs. 

“I make a lot of people feel safe.” He says softly and you shake your head, struggling to lift yourself, looking down at him resting comfortably on the bed. 

“Not,” you rub your eyes sitting up, “Not Deku. Midoriya. I feel safe with you.” His lips twitch downward, he processes the information slowly. 

“That’s uh,” He says lowly, more emotional than he expects to be. “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s a first.” You shrug, nuzzling him and laying back down.  He waits until you fall asleep inspecting your profile, committing it to memory, before reaching over you and taking out his phone from where the robe had been discarded on the bed. 

Midoriya: hey sorry

Bakugou Katsuki: long time no see. 

Midoriya: I did say I was sorry

Bakugou Katsuki: what do you want

Midoriya: I need your help