Mending Old Wounds

Take-out

Thursday July 1st

Midoriya's POV:

I stomped up the stairs, and all the way down the hall to my room, likely grumbling all the way there. I swung open my door and snatched up the shirt I left on my bed. I heard my door close, and started to tug the shirt on over my head, but it was ripped from my hands. I spun on my heal and opened my mouth to retort, only to have two drastically different temperature hands gripping my sides, and cold lips pressed to mine, searing hot tongue sliding into my mouth.

I pushed on his chest, "Sho. Quirk." I hung out my tongue, pitifully fanning it with my hand.

"I'm sorry," Shoto creased his brow and placed a cold hand on my left cheek. "Allow me to fix it?" he asked, searching my eyes.

I just nodded my consent and he leaned in for another kiss. This time everything was cold, as he gently slid over my burnt tongue, soothing it in the best way. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, feeling like I was literally melting into it. I opened my eyes and pulled away, pressing our foreheads together. I let out a soft sigh and could actually see my breath as it left my lips.

"Whoa," I breathed, and Shoto chuckled.

That's so cool. It's just like when you exhale when it's cold outside, and the water vapor in your breath condenses into lots of tiny droplets of liquid water and ice that you can see in the air as a cloud, similar to fog. There's no exact temperature at which condensation will occur, so it makes sense that it would happen in these conditions. I wonder if-

"Izuku," at some point I had completely pulled away from Shoto and was standing with my hand on my chin. Shoto was giving me a very unimpressed look with his arms crossed over his chest. I blinked at him a few times. "You were mumbling."

"Ack. Sorry," I gave him a sheepish grin and stepped closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He placed his hands back on my waist, this time they were just normal body temperature, "You're not going to write this down in one of your notebooks are you?" he teased.

I had an entire notebook dedicated to this man's quirk alone, and I was definitely going to add a few observations to it later, but he did not have to know that.

I just chuckled and shook my head, before leaning in for a chaste kiss, "You going to let me put a shirt on so I can write my essay?"

"You need a shirt to write an essay?"

"I need a shirt so there's no repeat of what just happened downstairs," I groaned, pressing my forehead into his chest. I felt a soft rumble as he quietly laughed at my pain.

He hooked a finger under my chin, and I tilted my head up to look at his face, but his eyes were focused much lower. His other hand was grazing up my side, and ghosting over my abdominals, and it was suddenly very hot in my room.

"You know, they weren't wrong. You've worked hard to sculpt your body to look like this. There's no shame in showing it off," Shoto flicked his half lidded eyes back up to mine, and my breath caught in my throat. I so badly wanted him to keep touching me, and damn if I didn't want to run my hands all over his body, too, but we were still so new. Hell, we'd only been seeing each other for two days, but we'd known each other for two years. We've grown together, pushed each other to be better, cried together, met each other's families, laughed and talked late into the night, and almost died together. Still, it just seemed too soon.

I pulled away from Shoto, clearing my throat, "It's not shame. It's just not... me. It's not how I am." I picked up my shirt off the floor, and tugged it on.