Chapter Text
Izuku didn’t realize he was being herded until it was too late.
He really shouldn’t have been out that late, let alone wandering that area. But stress and anxiety were getting to him, as the date of the UA entrance exam drew closer, and he couldn’t sleep. He’d considered staying in bed, doomscrolling on his phone, but the first news article on his feed had been an opinion piece hardly even bothering to cover its quirk supremacist leanings, advocating hero schools cut down on entrance exam costs by pre-screening for weak and villainous quirks ‘to prevent applicants from wasting everyone’s time.’ His outrage had carried him right out the front door, zipping up his patched winter coat.
He didn’t really have a plan - just a burning desire to walk off some of the sick fury that burned in his gut. He knew it was his own problem, getting so worked up over what was really just rage-bait, but just knowing didn’t ease how he felt. Did he really even have the right to get so upset about it, take it so personally, when in a few short months, All Might had promised to give him his quirk? Izuku knew he’d still think quirkist opinions like that were disgusting, quirk or no quirk, but still…
At some point, he’d wandered out of his neighborhood into the worse part of town, though he really didn’t have to go far - he and his mom didn’t have the means to live in the best neighborhood in the first place. When he realized where he was, though, he’d pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt from underneath his coat and ducked his nose into his scarf. It helped block the smell of cigarettes and stale urine and - more importantly - helped him blend in with the kind of crowd that wandered around the Dagobah neighborhood of Musutafu at - he checked his phone - nearly one in the morning. It was the kind of place where looking suspicious was actually less suspicious than anything else.
It wasn’t far from the beach he was cleaning up as training. He passed boarded up windows and smoke shops, a family dentist - closed - and a number of different bars and taverns. Two women Izuku immediately identified as prostitutes emerged from a building on the opposite corner and Izuku hurried on before they could call out to him. Feeling in his pocket, he found that he’d remembered to grab his wallet on the way out the door, which was a relief, though the trains were undoubtedly no longer running. He’d be walking back, even if he could have afforded a taxi. He wasn’t stupid enough to get into anyone’s car - not in Dagobah.
The hair on the back of his neck pricked up. A quick glance into the tilted window of a storefront revealed that behind him, two figures had just rounded the corner. They were looking at him. He walked a little faster, though he didn’t start running.
Which way, which way - he took a left into an alleyway, walking quickly in the direction that would, hopefully, get him home fast enough. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but as he walked, he was careful to step around any of the murky puddles in the cracked asphalt. His trick paid off, as he heard two pairs of footsteps slosh in the water behind him. They were following him.
There were plenty of things they could want from him, Izuku figured, but none he was willing to give up. If they took his wallet, not only would he lose his meager savings - carefully budgeted for the extra calories he needed to eat to keep up with training, instead of the newest All Might poster - but he’d have to replace his ID, which would mean he’d have to confess to his mom that he got mugged while wandering around like an idiot while she was working the night shift to support them. The same for if they took his phone. And anything worse, well…
Izuku tried not to catastrophize as he turned right, coming out of the alley. A quick glance down the street almost convinced him to make a break down the road - but then three men stepped out of a darkened doorway, one of them on his phone, all looking right at Izuku. Izuku quickly darted his eyes away, pretending he hadn’t seen them, and kept an even pace down the sidewalk. The three men sedately trailed after him.
Izuku fumbled for his phone in his pocket, but didn’t want to pull it out for the same reason he didn’t want to start running - it would tip them off that he knew he was being followed. He wished, briefly, that he still had the ancient flip phone his mom had given him at the beginning of middle school, because at least he’d be able to blindly text 119 on the mechanical keys. Suddenly, his mom upgrading him to a smartphone with her holiday bonus was less a blessing than a curse.
Down to the end of the road, then turn right at the corner. It was the wrong direction if he wanted to go straight home, but it meant he didn’t have to cross the street. The road he turned onto was busier, with more people hanging out, ducking in and out of bars, lit up with neon signs. Not busy enough for Izuku to blend in with the crowd, though. He passed a group of salarymen, huddled around one man puking into the gutter, and absently hoped the guys following him would lock onto them as a new target. Not very heroic of him, maybe, but there were more of them than him, enough that if Izuku got far enough away to call the police, they’d probably hold their own until a hero showed up. For the same reason, he figured his hopes were also in vain. Izuku on his lonesome was an easier target.
At the far end of the block, the two figures that had first started tailing him turned the corner, headed right for him, and Izuku panicked at the proof they’d doubled back to cut him off. Hardly thinking, he dodged into the closest doorway - and right into a dim bar, packed with the same kinds of men who’d been following him in the first place.
I keep making dumber and dumber decisions tonight, Izuku lamented, trying to act natural. It wasn’t like in a movie, where every head turned to follow the obvious newcomer as he stepped inside. In fact, in his patched coat, with his scarf pulled up over his face, Izuku blended in fairly well with the crowd, even if he was easily the youngest-looking person in there. The perks of having a baby face that left people doubting when he swore, honest, that he was actually fifteen. Anyway, from the crowd of rough-looking teenagers heckling each other in the corner, he figured it wasn’t the sort of place to kick him right back out even if they saw his face.
The place was hazy with cigarette smoke and smelled strongly of spilled alcohol and body odor - gross, get out of here, insisted the part of Izuku that very clearly remembered what it was like when his step father would drag him into and then abandon him in similar places when he was little, before his mom got wise and kicked him out - and had clearly reached the hour of the night where most of the patrons were either drunk or well on their way there. A guy in a straight-up villain costume was holding court in one of the corner booths, so Izuku headed for the opposite side of the room, near the bar, scanning for a back entrance. No such luck.
Maybe he could hide out in the bathrooms? But no - that would probably just get him assaulted by someone else, in a room with fewer witnesses -
“Hey there, baby,” someone said in his ear, and Izuku found himself - stiff, tense, uncomfortable - pushed onto a barstool in the corner, a stranger crowding him with an arm around him. A second man sat down on the stool next to him, towering over Izuku, and he knew immediately that these were the same guys who’d been following him on the street.
Izuku shifted, checking that his phone, wallet, and keys were still in the inside pocket of his coat. They were - but it quickly became clear that was because they weren’t what these guys were after.
“You look cold, darling,” the taller man crooned. The first man somehow weaseled in even closer to him, stale, alcohol-scented breath wafting over Izuku’s face. Izuku gripped the sticky surface of the bar, panic rising cold in his gut.
“We can warm you up,” the first guy chuckled. Izuku tried not to make eye contact with either man, but couldn’t help darting them panicked glances, filing away that the first man was probably thirty-something, with dark hair and a face that might have been handsome if he didn’t have the same cold, dead look in his eyes the bullies at school got right before doing something like tripping him down the stairs. The second, taller man had a vaguely reptilian look, face slightly scaled and pointed, with light hair and dangerously sharp clawed fingernails, which he rested over Izuku’s hand on the bar.
“Yeah, we saw you lookin’ at us outside. You interested?” the reptilian man said.
“S-sorry,” Izuku stammered. “Do I know you?”
The two guys laughed like he’d told a joke. Izuku swallowed, scanning the bar, but the only person who’d meet his eyes - or even seemed aware at all of what was happening - was the bartender, a young man who glanced dismissively over him before looking away.
“How about we get to know you, pretty thing,” the first man said. “Aw, don’t look so scared, baby, I promise we’re nice.” He laughed again. Izuku blinked quickly, willing away frightened tears.
Internally, he cursed himself for being so scared. These two morons weren’t that scary - except for the fact that they were, somehow. If he’d passed them on the street in the daylight, Izuku would’ve pegged them for stereotypical low-life thugs, the kind that got their teeth kicked in by heroes while they stood around like idiots and real villains put up a good fight. In-between cleaning up the beach and training, All Might had been teaching Izuku to fight - there was a good chance, had Izuku been alone with one of these guys in a dark alley (preferably with a weapon) he’d have been able to put up a good enough fight that they’d decide he wasn’t worth the effort of assaulting. Perhaps he’d even send them running scared. But he wasn’t alone with just one of them - he’d trapped himself in a bar full of people who quite plainly couldn’t give a shit, with the two of them crowding him into a dark corner that he couldn’t escape from. The second, reptilian man skated a hand down his back, groping his ass through his jeans with clawed fingers.
Izuku was terrified.
“Hey, hey, Ogura,” the reptilian man called. “Can you get us a couple drinks?”
They knew the bartender by name, evidently. The young man looked over at them, not reacting to Izuku’s obvious panic.
“Let me guess, couple’a beers and a whiskey for your new friend?” he asked dispassionately. “You want anything special for him, too?”
What the fuck did that mean, Izuku thought, though he wasn’t destined to find out, as his first assaulter scoffed. “What, you think we need your shit? Just a regular whiskey.”
“You ever had a beer in a place like this? Tastes like shit,” the first guy turned smoothly back to Izuku, crooning like Izuku should be swooning into his arms. “Don’t worry baby, that’s why we’re getting you the good stuff.”
“That’s - uh - nice, but -” Izuku stammered, but was cut off by the reptilian man.
“Ah, don’t worry, darling, s’just a drink.”
The bartender dropped the drinks in front of them. When Izuku didn’t reach out to take the glass of whiskey, the first man forced it into his hands, then reached up, pulling Izuku’s scarf and hood down.
“I knew you were pretty under there,” he said, delighted, though his dead-eyed look remained. When Izuku didn’t respond or drink of his own volition, the man lifted the glass to his lips, while the reptilian man groped him again.
“Have a drink, darling, settle down,” he commanded. Then he tipped the drink into Izuku’s mouth.
It tasted awful. The man poured even more whiskey past his lips and Izuku swallowed instinctively, coughing. The two guys started laughing again.
“This your first time?” the first man laughed, looking thrilled. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll show you a good time - hey, Oguro, can we get another?”
“Relax,” the reptilian man said, grabbing the glass to force the rest of the whiskey into Izuku’s mouth. “Maybe we can talk about how you can pay us back for these drinks, huh?”
Izuku tried to twist away, but the reptilian man had him caught tight in his arms. Izuku felt his claws prick him through his jeans in warning. He was fully trapped.
The reptilian man whispered in Izuku’s ear about the things he could do to ‘repay’ them, while Oguro, the bartender, brought another glass. Izuku started to cry silently, but that only seemed to encourage them. In between being forced to drink from the second glass, Izuku looked desperately around the room.
There, in the corner, the obvious villain was still drinking with his entourage. Not one looked in Izuku’s direction. The bartender kept sending him glances, but they weren’t the kind that made Izuku think he wanted to help. The other people sitting at the bar were a mixture of older guys, drinking alone, a couple salarymen, dead on their feet and looking miserable, and a few other thugs. One caught Izuku’s eye, saw that he was crying, and looked away.
The teenagers in the corner were the rowdiest bunch and were so obviously a gang that Izuku was actively hoping they didn’t notice him. Most everyone else were clustered in groups of two or three, drinking and smoking, while a few hostesses delivered drinks to tables. One man - probably homeless - looked to be asleep in the corner of the room.
These guys were gonna drag Izuku out of there and rape him, weren’t they?
Reptilian-guy was still whispering about how Izuku was gonna have such a good time, but all Izuku could think about was how was he going to be able to tell his mom about what had happened to him? Being a hero nerd involved a certain amount of true-crime enthusiasm, which meant Izuku already knew the statistics on how often rape cases were actually solved. He could picture it already: ‘stupid young teen ventures into the bad side of town hoping to score some illegal alcohol, gets more than he bargained for.’ It would probably hurt his UA application to report this.
He was forced to finish the second glass of whiskey and a third was set in front of him. In an effort to keep that one from being forced down his throat, too, he grabbed it himself, taking a minuscule sip. Sipping did not improve the taste, though Izuku was beginning to feel fuzzy, like his arms were suddenly too heavy.
Maybe if Izuku didn’t fight, they’d let him go once they got what they wanted without hurting him too badly. Hopefully. His mom’s shift at the hospital didn’t end until seven in the morning, which meant if they didn’t, no one would notice him missing until at least seven-thirty, when she usually got home. Except it was a Friday night, which meant he had training with All Might in - give or take - six hours (god, he was so stupid, why did he think a late-night walk was a good idea?), which meant she wouldn’t expect to see him until he got home in the evening. But then All Might would be the first to notice he was missing, which would mean, probably, a manhunt organized by the Number One Hero, which would not only beg the question of why All Might knew to look for one random quirkless teenager, but would also mean his mentor would probably end up finding out that Izuku had been raped. Had been stupid enough to put himself in this situation. (He might be the one finding Izuku’s dead body.)
His hands shook, tears flowing faster. His first assaulter was beginning to look irritated with all his crying, which didn’t bode well for Izuku.
A clawed hand reached up, digging into his jaw. Reptilian-guy turned his head to face him, a scowl spreading on his pointed face. “What’s up with the wet bitch look?” he asked. “You let us buy you all these drinks, then you’re gonna fuckin’ cry about it? I expect a little gratitude.”
“Yeah,” the other guy sneered. He shoved a hand between Izuku’s legs, groping him harshly, and Izuku jumped.
Shouting on the other side of the room interrupted them. Izuku’s head swiveled, just in time to see the homeless guy suddenly jump the obvious villain, sending tables flying and people screaming.
“Oh, fuck,” Reptilian-guy swore, letting go of Izuku in surprise.
Not quite sure where the instinct came from, Izuku whipped the glass of whiskey at him. It didn’t shatter when it hit him in the nose, but it did knock him off his stool. The first guy swore, but cut off, coughing, as Izuku caught him in the throat with a fist. Not waiting around to see their response, Izuku threw himself off the barstool. The bartender shouted, but Izuku solved that by picking up one of the other guys’ glasses of beer and hurling it at him. He dodged, but Izuku was already shoving his way through the confused crowd to the door.
He reached the door at the same time as the villain, who was shouting at the homeless guy - a hero? For once, Izuku wasn’t willing to stick around and find out - with a fistful of what looked like plasma. Cool quirk, except for the fact that he was throwing sizzling handfuls of it at the hero and, incidentally, at one of his buddies, who was standing between them. The minion caught a starbust of the stuff across his back and went down screaming at the same time the homeless-guy-probable-hero kicked him aside, then came up with glowing red eyes. Obvious-villain shrieked as he suddenly seemed to lose control of the plasma and it cascaded down, covering his hand. He was still between Izuku and the door, however, and someone tried to grab Izuku from behind. He threw a blind elbow, knocking them off of him, then swept up a bottle from a table. He hurled it at the villain, still standing there screaming at his ruined hand, and it caught him in the side of the head, knocking him down.
The guy behind him grabbed him again, and Izuku turned to see it was his first assaulter. He decked him as hard as he could, shoving, and then with a shock of cold air, he was out the door, on the street.
He didn’t think, he just started sprinting. Across the street, he caught a glimpse of the gang of three guys who had cut him off earlier - friends of his two assaulters, presumably. Izuku didn’t stop to say hi. He ran in the opposite direction from them, a flood of people following him out of the bar. Someone was shouting - probably at him. Hysterically, he thought to himself that hurling glasses and beer bottles at people was probably the kind of behavior that got a person kicked out of a bar permanently. Well, good - he certainly never wanted to be anywhere near that place or its creepy, probably-roofie-dealing bartender ever again.
He whipped around the corner and nearly crashed into a man that a small part of his brain identified as Kesagiri Man. Holy shit. Perhaps instinctively, Kesagiri Man reached out a hand to grab him, but Izuku ducked him - just in time, too, because the gang of three followed him around the corner, yelling. Izuku kept running. Maybe he should’ve stayed with Kesagiri Man? A hero would probably protect him. Sadly, he didn’t consider it until he was already a block away, and there was no way he was going to turn back around.
He realized something was wrong with him around three blocks later. Suddenly, he was tripping over every crack in the sidewalk, nearly braining himself on a low-hanging sign. People were still shouting behind him, but the sound was getting farther and farther away, which was probably good.
Izuku was going to throw up.
He realized that about half a second before he actually did it. He did manage to aim for the gutter, retching until nothing came up but stomach bile. It was vile. He coughed, spitting, then retched again. Then again, and then one more time, collapsing to his knees.
Someone touched his back and Izuku nearly threw himself into the pile of vomit, trying to get away.
“Woah, woah,” the person said. They caught him by the shoulders before he could truly ruin his clothes.
Izuku looked up and found himself staring up at the homeless man from the bar. He didn’t look quite so homeless anymore, with a pair of bright yellow goggles hanging around his neck, hair mussed from the fight.
“Eraserhead,” Izuku blurted.
“Huh,” Eraserhead said. “Not many people recognize me.”
“You’re - um - I followed your fight with the, uh, the guy - the poison flower villain guy - whatever his name was - I-I’m a big-g-g f-f-fan,” Izuku rambled. He couldn’t shut up. “Worryheart, that’s his name. I’m in a Clamor fanserver for you.” Why the fuck was he still talking?
Eraserhead started to smile, terrifyingly. “Okay,” he drawled. “Well, you look like you need a little help. Can I help you up?”
Izuku allowed himself to be manhandled up, suddenly extremely dizzy. Eraserhead (Eraserhead!) wrapped an arm around him, holding him up.
“That was some pretty good aim back there,” Eraserhead commented as he guided Izuku down the street.
Izuku flushed, eyes watering again. “I didn’t - it’s just - oh god, I hit that guy in the head, what if he died -”
“He didn’t die,” Eraserhead chuckled. “Hand’s pretty well fucked up, but that’s my fault, not yours.”
Izuku shuddered, choking down a half-laugh, half-sob.
“Hey, you look like you’re gonna pass out on me,” Eraserhead said, a little more seriously. Izuku blinked at him, feeling somewhere between numb and out of his mind. “You mind if I bring you someplace you can sit down?”
Izuku shook his head. Eraserhead had just saved his life, he realized - he could do whatever he wanted. The hero half-carried him through a doorway, and it wasn’t until he was sitting down in a booth that he realized they were in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The table was just as scratched up as the bar top had been, he noted absently, but nowhere near as sticky. Eraserhead sat across from him, shoving a glass with a straw sticking out of it at him.
“It’s water,” the hero said. Deciding to trust him, Izuku took a sip. It was water! Delighted, he drank more.
An old lady appeared at their table. Izuku blinked stupidly at her, having missed whatever she said, but apparently that didn’t matter because she set a bowl of miso soup before each of them, then disappeared.
“Eat, you’ll feel better,” Eraserhead told him, so he did.
The soup sloshed in his empty stomach. The old lady brought more food to their table, and Izuku watched as Eraserhead filled up a plate with karaage, greens, pickles, and a little bowl of rice. He pushed it in front of Izuku.
“Oh… thank you,” Izuku muttered. Suddenly ravenous, he practically inhaled his first few bites, before remembering his manners. He looked up to see Eraserhead watching him, amused, with his own plate in front of him.
As he ate, Izuku started feeling less fuzzy. With it came a rush of cold shock. His teeth started to chatter.
“Oh my god, holy shit,” Izuku muttered under his breath. He’d totally thought he was going to die. Somehow, it was worse than the incident with the sludge villain.
“Feeling more with it?” Eraserhead asked. Izuku looked up at him, shivering despite his winter coat. The man looked mildly concerned and dropped another piece of chicken on Izuku’s plate. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“You s-s-saved my life,” Izuku stammered. “They were g-g-gonna rape me then dump me in the - the harbor, I think.” Eraserhead passed him some napkins as tears started streaming from his eyes.
“Wasn’t just me,” the man murmured. “You did pretty good at getting yourself out of there. I jumped that guy a little early because I figured I’d need to pull those two off of you before they did anything else.”
Izuku shook his head. “I only - only m-m-managed that-t-t because y-y-you distracted-d-d them,” he stuttered, still crying. “Sorry, did I - did I mess up your - your, uh, your operation?”
“Don’t apologize for needing saving, that’s irrational,” the hero scolded gently. He passed Izuku another wad of napkins. “Besides, the only thing that got messed up was that guy’s hand, and to be honest, that’s not a big loss.”
Izuku giggled, feeling a little terrible for it. Eraserhead grinned.
“Eat more,” the hero instructed. In between bites, he asked Izuku how he’d ended up in that bar in the first place, seeing as he’d witnessed Izuku’s frantic dash inside.
Izuku stammered out an explanation, trying to describe coherently how his night had gone so awry. He gave up trying to explain how the quirkist article had gotten him so furious in the first place when Eraserhead started squinting at him, skipping ahead to his brain-dead decision to take a walk into the bad part of town in the middle of the night - though it hadn’t been much of a decision, more of an accident - and then how he’d been herded by the two groups until he’d ducked into the bar to try to escape them.
“…and you should probably check out the bartender,” Izuku finished, feeling more settled, “because I’m pretty sure he offered to spike my drink.”
Eraserhead nodded with a deep scowl. Izuku shoved a little more food into his mouth.
A different waitress, younger, came back around with more water for Izuku, also setting a small tray with a bottle of sake in front of Eraserhead.
“Eraser, you didn’t tell me you had a son!” she chirped. Izuku nearly choked. “You want something else to drink?” she asked Izuku, who shook his head, coughing.
Caught off guard, Eraserhead gaped at her, protesting only after a moment: “Wait, he’s not -” But the waitress had already moved on, heading back towards the kitchen.
Later, with hindsight, Izuku would take this as an omen.
They just stared at each other for a moment, bewildered, Izuku turning red from the combination of the minor embarrassment of social-interaction-gone-wrong and partial asphyxiation.
“…Anyway…” Eraserhead said, shaking the interaction off, “do you mind?” He gestured to the sake. “I’m off shift now.” Izuku shook his head.
Eraserhead poured a cup. Izuku leaned his head on his hand, watching the hero swallow as he drank it down. Then he glanced back down at his plate, realizing he was probably being weird. Everyone always said his staring was creepy, except for his mom.
“So did, uh, Kesagiri Man handle taking that guy in?” Izuku asked, making conversation.
“Yeah, he owed me a favor so… clean up duty, you know,” Eraserhead shrugged. “He was pretty impressed by how well you dodged him.”
Izuku laughed, a little shakily. “I wasn’t really, um, thinking. Just kept running.”
“Good instincts.”
More slowly, Izuku set about methodically finishing his food. As he did so, Eraserhead finished his cup, then poured another. The tray the waitress had brought had two cups, and the hero picked up the second, tilting it towards Izuku.
It took Izuku a moment to realize he was offering to pour him a drink.
“Oh! Oh, no, I shouldn’t - those guys made me drink, um, two glasses of whiskey back there -” Also, he was underage, but he was a little more worried about possible alcohol poisoning than that.
“Yeah, but you threw nearly all of it up,” Eraserhead said. “You sure? It… might help you calm down.”
Izuku realized he was still shaking. Even with the water and the meal, he could still taste the sharp, awful taste of the whiskey on his tongue, and he was suddenly quite desperate to replace it with something else. He didn’t feel quite so fuzzy anymore, either, so it was probably fine…
“Yeah… yeah, okay. If you want, I mean… Sorry, I don’t know if I can pay you back…”
He fumbled in his coat for his wallet for a moment, realizing that someone was going to have to pay for all this food, and it would probably be pretty rude to leave that up to Eraserhead. Before he could pull it out, though, the man waved him off.
“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” Eraserhead passed him a cup of rice wine and Izuku took it carefully. He sipped it, suppressing a grimace at the alcohol flavor - but after a moment, found he liked the aftertaste, especially after all the food he’d just eaten. He took another, larger sip.
Eraserhead smiled at him. It went right to Izuku’s head and he looked away, knowing he was blushing.
Holy shit - he was having dinner with an actual, real pro hero!
Well, actually, that wasn’t so unusual. He ate all the time with All Might. But still - Eraserhead! He was hands-down Izuku’s favorite underground hero. He kept his own rankings, in one of his notebooks, of who he thought were the best daylight and underground heroes, and Eraserhead had sat at the top of the underground list ever since Izuku had learned he’d existed, a few years prior.
“You know my stats?” Eraserhead asked, and Izuku went beet red, realizing he’d been mumbling. Mortified, he swallowed the rest of his sake, then covered his face with his hands.
“I’m so sorry! Oh god. I promise I’m not a creep, I just - just - you’re really cool, you know,” Izuku confessed.
Eraserhead was grinning again. It was kind of terrifying, but also made Izuku consider, in the small part of his mind that wasn’t occupied with mortification, the benefits of having a terrifying expression in underground hero work. Eraserhead probably cultivated that smile.
“I think I’m flattered,” the hero said. “You follow me that closely? I don’t think most of those stats are public.”
“Oh, no, they’re not - I just have alerts set up for villain fights, you know, and once I knew you existed, it got a lot easier to figure out which ones were you, opposed to other underground heroes,” Izuku rambled. While he talked, Eraserhead refilled his cup, handing it back to him. “I keep my own hero stats, so it’s probably not super accurate, but there’s a couple other people who publish their own underground hero stats - which, I mean, I think that’s kind of irresponsible, so it’s hard to argue with them when they’re wrong, because I’m not gonna put my calculations out there for any villain to find, you know - and I’m pretty sure your numbers get underreported, even by the guys who know you exist. I mean, I get it, you’re not very recognizable - I didn’t even figure out you were you until I saw the goggles, I just thought you were homeless -”
Izuku cut himself off, mortified. “Oh god! But not, um, homeless in a bad way?” He slapped a hand over his mouth before he could make it worse.
Eraserhead’s shoulders were shaking, and for a moment, Izuku thought he’d really offended him. But then a braying laugh escaped the hero. He leaned back in his seat, laughing delightedly, and slowly, Izuku lowered his hand from his face.
“That’s pretty impressive, kid,” the hero told him, still chuckling. “You’re not far off the official numbers, actually.”
“Really?” Izuku, asked, excited. “Oh, wow. I mean, I thought I’d gotten it mostly right, but I figured I must’ve missed some things, but -” This time, he consciously stopped himself before he could go on a tangent.
“Really,” Eraserhead agreed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met an actual fan, before - not on the streets, at least. How did you even find out about me?”
Izuku happily explained how he’d stumbled upon the mysterious Pro Hero Eraserhead’s existence a few years before while tracking one of Endeavor’s fights, while they finished the bottle of sake together. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed and happy by the time Eraserhead paid the check - a feeling he’d never quite experienced before. Was this why people drank so much? Maybe not, since it was such a different experience than what he’d felt in the bar. Probably Eraserhead sitting with him, giving him his whole attention was doing most of it for him.
“Let me walk you home,” Eraserhead insisted, as they exited the restaurant. Izuku agreed, then nearly tipped right into the man, tripping over the curb.
Eraserhead wrapped a stabilizing arm around him. “Hmm, sorry, the sake’s hitting you a little harder than I thought it would,” he apologized. “Not a drinker?”
“No, no, not really,” Izuku said. “I mean, I’m also just kind of clumsy, too…” Not so much anymore, what with All Might’s training, but that was a little less embarrassing than admitting he was feeling tipsy, he thought. Assuming this was what being tipsy was like. It was his first time drinking any alcohol.
Eraserhead kept that arm wrapped around him on the walk back to his mom’s apartment, which sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He didn’t really need the support, but no way was he going to tell the man to stop. To distract from his rapidly worsening crush, Izuku rambled about his favorites of the hero’s villain captures that he’d heard about, and the few he’d seen security camera footage of. As he did, Eraserhead actually added details Izuku couldn’t have known about, which was just the coolest.
It wasn’t far to Izuku’s apartment, so before long, Izuku was standing before his door, fumbling for his keys. Eraserhead paused outside when Izuku got the door open.
He couldn’t really explain why he offered, except for the fact that his terrifying night had somehow ended up being more like a date than anything else. Eraserhead had bought him dinner, talked with him, walked him home - Izuku had never been on a date before, but he was pretty sure that was how they were supposed to go. So, before the hero could leave, Izuku asked him if he wanted to come in and have a cup of coffee.
“You sure?” Eraserhead asked, concerned. “You shouldn’t feel obligated - I’m just doing my job.”
“Please,” Izuku insisted, and so Eraserhead followed him in, trading his combat boots for their extra pair of house slippers. Izuku directed him to sit on the couch while he made coffee.
“You live alone?” Eraserhead asked.
“Oh - oh, no, my mom just works the nightshift,” Izuku explained. “She’ll be back in the morning. Well, I guess it’s already morning…” He glanced at the clock - nearly three in the morning already; his sleep schedule was fucked - while he brought two mugs of coffee over, sitting next to the hero on his couch.
This was almost as surreal as All Might offering Izuku his quirk. All Might had never been Izuku’s house - seeing Eraserhead there, capture weapon (so cool!) and goggles left on the coffee table, was so strange, Izuku almost thought he was dreaming.
“Sorry, I should’ve asked - I think we’ve got milk in the fridge, if you want some…”
“It’s fine, I usually take my coffee black this time of night. I save the sugar for the morning.” Eraserhead took a sip from his mug, humming appreciatively. Izuku pretended he wasn’t blushing.
Izuku glanced over him, trying to think of something else to say. In the better light of his living room, without his capture weapon hiding his shoulders and face, Izuku could see how Eraserhead’s black jumpsuit clung to his broad shoulders. His scruff did nothing to diminish his sharp jaw, and Izuku could see the slight curl to his hair. He met the hero’s eyes and took a quick sip of his coffee to hide his surprised squeak.
Eraserhead trailed his eyes over Izuku in a way that made his face heat even more. Izuku had taken off his coat and sweatshirt when he came inside, leaving him in just jeans and a t-shirt that read ‘dress shirt’ across the front. Eraserhead’s lips quirked when he saw it. Yes! Someone else thought it was funny!
The hero set his mug down on the coaster on the coffee table. “If I’m reading this wrong, please just say so, and I promise I’ll leave - no hard feelings,” he said, voice an octave lower. He set one hand on Izuku’s thigh. An electric zing shot through him where they touched.
Was this really happening? Izuku knew, theoretically, that sometimes people just… hooked up with strangers. He had, more than once, been mockingly called a ‘hero-chaser’ by the assholes at school, and not in the sense that he liked to chase fights. Some of Kacchan’s hangers-on had implied that Izuku would be lucky to one day beg for his old friend’s attention when they were all grown up and Kacchan was a hero while Izuku was not.
Eraserhead was way cooler than Kacchan. Older, too, though he couldn’t be that old, Izuku figured. And he was nice.
Izuku set his own mug on the table. “No-o,” he stuttered, then firmed his resolve, “you’re not reading me wrong. I mean - I want to -”
Eraserhead leaned in and kissed him.
His breath tasted like coffee, was Izuku’s first thought. Then, that Eraserhead had taken his first kiss. Finally, he remembered that he didn’t know what he was doing, but before he could freak out, he realized it didn’t matter, because the hero had taken control of the kiss from the start. Izuku gasped as he licked at his lower lip, then slid his tongue into Izuku’s mouth.
Izuku twisted closer to him on the couch, a hand on his shoulder to keep from falling over. Eraserhead used one hand to tilt Izuku’s head, while his other pulled him into the man’s lap. They kissed until Izuku was breathless and squirming, the sound of his panting loud in the quiet room.
“Do you want to go to my room?” Izuku asked, when the hero pulled back.
“If you want to,” Eraserhead agreed. Izuku nodded rapidly, then screamed quietly in surprise when Eraserhead picked him up. He wrapped his legs around the man’s waist, clinging to his shoulders as Eraserhead stumbled briefly, before righting himself.
“Sorry, sorry,” Eraserhead chuckled. “The drinks might be hitting me a little harder than usual.”
Izuku giggled, giddy. He leaned in, kissing the man again as he walked down the hall, only pulling back to direct him to Izuku’s bedroom instead of his mom’s.
Eraserhead dropped him on his bed and Izuku had a moment of stunned mortification as he remembered all the hero merch decorating his room. By some kind of providence, though, he’d had to sell off some of his more exclusive All Might merch to pay for his training equipment, so in the past couple months, his room had gone from looking like a hero con exploded over it to something a bit more reasonable. Probably that was why Eraserhead just skimmed his eyes over his poster collection before crawling onto the bed after him. He’d never thought he’d be so grateful for having to give up his limited edition World Hero Con 2236 All Might poster (the one with the Silver Age costume… Okay, maybe avoiding the embarrassment of Actual Pro Hero Eraserhead seeing his hero-merch themed bedroom wasn’t enough to offset the pain of selling that one off. Izuku consoled himself with soon receiving All Might’s quirk - the ultimate hero merch.)
Izuku scooted until he was propped up against the pillows at the head of his bed, while Eraserhead kneeled between his spread legs.
“What are you up for?” the man asked.
Izuku… did not know. He twisted his hands in his bedcovers, giddiness fading into nervousness. “Uh…”
Eraserhead ran a soothing hand over his thigh. “Hey, if you want to stop, we can,” he offered, tone kind.
“No!” Izuku objected. “No, I don’t want to stop… I just - haven’t really done something like this before…”
“That’s alright,” Eraserhead said. “We can take it slow.”
Then he pulled the shirt of his hero costume off, which Izuku didn’t feel was very slow at all, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. The man was built, a light dusting of hair between his pecs and trailing down from his belly button. He had freckles all over his shoulders, just like Izuku did.
Izuku sat up, kneeling so he could kiss him again. Eraserhead’s calloused fingers played with the hem of Izuku’s own shirt. Izuku chased his lips when he pulled back from the kiss, which only made the man laugh as he gently pulled Izuku’s own shirt off. Then he leaned down, pressing kisses from Izuku’s neck, down his sternum, then laving a tongue over Izuku’s nipple.
“Mmh!” Izuku squeaked at the feeling. It sent a jolt of heat between his legs. He was hard, enough so that his jeans were really becoming uncomfortable.
Eraserhead sucked a little harder, flicking his tongue over the bud of his left nipple. At the same time, he reached down, hooking his hands under Izuku’s ass, pulling him up and closer so he was kneeling over the man’s lap, looking down at the top of his head. Izuku twirled a finger in his hair, which was softer than it looked. He couldn’t contain his loud panting. At that time of the morning, without even the distant sounds of traffic, he felt like the sound of his breathing and the wet noise of Eraserhead sucking kisses into his skin was the loudest sound around for miles.
Eraserhead switched to his other nipple just before Izuku became truly overstimulated. Still, he squirmed even harder as the man groped his ass through his jeans, thumbs sneaking under the waistband.
“Mmmh, I want…” Izuku mumbled.
“What?” Eraserhead pulled back to ask, looking up at Izuku with dark eyes.
“Take my pants off, please,” Izuku requested breathily.
The hero was eager to comply. He practically lifted Izuku off the bed, already undoing the button of his pants. Abruptly, Izuku was naked, kicking away his jeans and underwear, cock bobbing between them where Eraserhead still sat on the edge of the bed. Izuku knew if he looked in the mirror, his blush would spread from his face down his chest.
“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” Eraserhead said, and Izuku practically melted, hands coming up involuntarily to cover his face. Eraserhead laughed lowly. Then he grabbed Izuku by the hip, pulling him closer, and closed a calloused hand over Izuku’s cock.
The sound Izuku made was just embarrassing. Eraserhead didn’t seem to mind, though - nor the fact that Izuku practically tipped into his lap, entire body going tense in a valiant effort to keep from coming on the spot.
Eraserhead shoved himself backwards on the bed to make room for Izuku in his lap. Izuku didn’t want to be the only one fully naked, though, and the man lifted up just enough to allow Izuku to undo his belt and pull the bottom half of his hero costume down his hips. They wriggled until Eraserhead had successfully kicked the rest of his clothes away, and then Izuku found himself seated fully in the man’s lap. His erection butted up against the hero’s. Eraserhead was larger than him. Izuku stared down at the man’s cock, hardly believing he was somehow naked in Eraserhead’s lap.
Eraserhead kissed him again, then reached down, taking both of their cocks in one big hand. Izuku moaned as he stroked them together, unable to look away.
“I’d really like to fuck you, sweetheart,” Eraserhead rumbled in his ear. “Can I?”
Izuku went lightheaded. “Yes, yeah, um, yes please!”
Something about his hapless enthusiasm must have been endearing, because Eraserhead smiled at him, pulling Izuku down to press another open-mouthed kiss to him, fucking his tongue into Izuku’s mouth. Izuku clamped his legs around the man’s hips, grinding down onto him until Eraserhead pulled back.
“Do you have lube? Condoms?” he asked.
Izuku blinked stupidly at him, trying to remember what those words meant. “Uh, um, lube - I have - here -” He leaned over to his bedside table, digging through the drawer for a moment, coming up with a mostly-full bottle of lube. He was pretty sure this wasn’t what his mom had in mind when she discreetly left bottle on his bed. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, Izuku figured. “I… don’t have any condoms. Do we need condoms?”
“Yes,” Eraserhead declared. He added, “If anyone ever asks to fuck you without a condom or a clean STD panel, hit them as hard as you can and run far away. Or just stick to handjobs, I guess. Grab my belt.”
Izuku reached for the man’s utility belt, laughing. It was still attached to the pants of his hero costume, and he had to slither off the bed to grab it from the floor. Once he had it in hand, he crawled back into Eraserhead’s lap. The man had shifted backwards until he was sitting up against Izuku’s headboard, where Izuku had been earlier.
“Here,” Izuku said, offering it. Eraserhead flipped it around until he found the pocket he was looking for, reaching in and pulling out a condom. There were a bunch more in there, too, which twigged Izuku’s self-conscious anxiety.
“Uh, do you do this a lot?” he asked, a little unsurely. “That’s… a lot of condoms.”
Eraserhead looked up at him, surprised. “Oh - no, no, uh…”
“It’s okay if you do!” Izuku tried to assure him. But that just seemed to make the hero more uncomfortable. “I mean…”
“No, really - I keep them around to throw at couples I find fucking in public…” Eraserhead said, almost nervously. “I’ve, uh, always thought heroes who use their position to fuck fans were huge creeps, actually…”
“I don’t think you’re a creep!” Izuku insisted immediately. Great job, Izuku, he cursed himself, your big mouth probably just prevented you from losing your virginity to Eraserhead.
The amused smile had fully slipped off Eraserhead’s face, though. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea…” He looked up at Izuku. “You know you don’t have to do this just because I saved you, right? If this is meant as… some kind of ‘thank you’…”
“What? No!” Izuku protested. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am grateful - you saved my life - but -” Eraserhead looked plainly uncomfortable. Izuku steeled himself, forcing himself not to stutter, “I just want you to fuck me because I think you’re hot, and nice, and you bought me dinner and listened to me talk without telling me to shut up and I just think you’re really cool. That’s - um - isn’t that how normal hookups go? I think? That’s not weird, right?”
“Do people usually tell you to shut up when you talk?” Eraserhead asked, concerned. Izuku felt he was dodging the subject at hand. But yes, they did, because he was quirkless and weird and he talked too much and even when he didn’t talk, he was usually mumbling under his breath in a way that got him labeled as a weirdo creep. He didn’t want to get into all the reasons people told him to shut up.
“That’s not - I mean, I just talk a lot, you know?” Izuku tried to wave him off. “But forget that. I like you, and I don’t think you’re a creep, so - I mean - don’t you still want to have sex?”
Eraserhead squinted at him consideringly but evidently decided to let it go. He reached up to clutch lightly at Izuku’s hips, and in return Izuku ground down on him again. “As long as you’re not uncomfortable…” he said, but his earlier desire was becoming apparent again. His eyes traced over Izuku’s chest, down to his cock in a way that was very flattering.
“I am definitely not uncomfortable,” Izuku declared, to the hero’s evident amusement.
“Alright,” Eraserhead acquiesced. Then he reached over the bottle of lube, dripping a good amount onto his fingers. “Can I?”
Izuku wasn’t totally sure what he was asking, but he had a pretty good guess. And anyway, he figured he was down for whatever the hero had in mind, so he nodded quickly. Eraserhead reached behind him to trace a slick finger around the rim of Izuku’s hole. Izuku gasped quietly as he pressed one finger into him.
“Feeling okay?” Eraserhead asked. In answer, Izuku pressed back into his finger, shifting in his lap.
“You can do another.”
Eraserhead watched him, eyes analytical and dark as he fingered Izuku open. With his left hand, he traced soothing circles up and down Izuku’s side. When Izuku started feeling a little too watched, he leaned in and kissed the man again. Eraserhead let him take the lead on the kiss while he fucked him open with his fingers.
“Fuck me, now, please,” Izuku eventually begged. His cock dripped a line of precum, sticky on Eraserhead’s belly.
“You want my cock, pretty boy?” Eraserhead asked lowly. Izuku fumbled for the condom where it had nearly gotten lost in his bedsheets, discarding the wrapper over the side of the bed and rolling it onto the man’s cock. He stroked him once, twice, adding a little lube, before shifting up on his knees to clumsily try and direct the tip to his fluttering hole.
“Let me,” Eraserhead chuckled, as Izuku failed to get his cock inside him. Gratefully, Izuku allowed himself to be manhandled, the hero directing him by the hip as he guided his cock. He giggled quietly when the tip pressed inside, that giddy feeling returning.
Eraserhead looked up at Izuku like he was someone beautiful. It was heady, as Izuku shifted inquisitively, fucking himself down onto the man’s cock. It was a stretch, one he’d never really felt before - different from fucking himself on his fingers, definitely - but it was a good feeling. Eraserhead was inside him!
“Ride me, sweetheart.”
Izuku took to the command enthusiastically. It was hard, at first, to drop down fully onto the man’s thick cock, but Eraserhead kept his guiding hands on Izuku’s hips, helping him work himself down. Soon enough, Izuku bounced in his lap, pushing himself up only to drop back down with a slapping sound. Eraserhead shifted, rolling his hips up to meet him. “You’re gorgeous, pretty boy. So tight for me,” the man groaned. Izuku reached up to cover his bright red blush, but didn’t stop bouncing on him. He moaned as Eraserhead shifted position again, his cock pressing on something inside him that felt really good.
“You love it, don’t you?”
“Uh - uhuh!” Izuku couldn’t do much more than moan breathily in agreement. He dropped down even harder, chasing that feeling inside him.
“Are you gonna come, sweetheart? Come on my cock?”
“Ye-es, sir,” Izuku cried. Eraserhead groaned. He firmed his grip on Izuku’s hips, fucking up into him. Abruptly though, he stopped, holding Izuku still. Izuku whined, “What - no - keep going -”
“I want to see all of you, can I?”
He could do whatever he wanted, so long as he kept fucking him. Moodily, Izuku told him so.
Eraserhead laughed, and then Izuku found himself rolled onto his back, head at the foot of his bed. Eraserhead kneeled between his thighs, holding him up by the waist so his cock didn’t slip out. He adjusted Izuku’s legs, so they were spread wide around him.
“God, you’re so pretty down here. Gorgeous.” He traced his thumb around Izuku’s rim, where it was stretched around his cock, which was really hot. Izuku’s cock twitched all on its own at the feeling. “I wish you could see yourself, sweetheart - you’re gaping for me.”
As if to demonstrate, he pulled out, and Izuku could feel his empty hole flutter, as if trying to hold him inside. Eraserhead didn’t leave him empty long. He shoved his cock back in, then out again, then in - settling into a hard fucking that curled Izuku’s toes and forced little cries out of his mouth with every thrust.
“Eraser - Eraserhead - please -”
The hero shifted again, somehow knowing what he needed to do to hit Izuku’s prostate again. Izuku felt floppy like jello. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t keep himself from sliding down the bed, because the firm grip Eraserhead kept on his hips held him still, right where he wanted him.
Izuku reached for his cock, hoping to come. He was drooling precum from his tip, but Eraserhead only let him jerk himself twice before slapping his hand away.
“Can you come just on my cock, pretty boy? Can you do that for me?”
Izuku didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. “You’re perfect,” Eraserhead groaned.
He kept up a steady pace, abs flexing as he fucked into Izuku. Maybe Izuku really could come just from getting fucked, because there was a pressure building in him every time Eraserhead hammered his prostate. When his orgasm rolled through him, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Izuku moaned loudly as his cock spurted almost lazily onto his stomach. His climax seemed to last for ages, coming in waves. Eraserhead leaned down to lick up a line of cum that had landed high on Izuku’s chest, which was insanely hot. His scruff scraped against Izuku’s skin, and if he hadn’t just come moments before, he probably would have again.
Having fucked Izuku insensate, Eraserhead chased his own orgasm, lifting and pulling Izuku like he was just something to be used. Izuku tried to clench down on him, and Eraserhead groaned loudly. Izuku did it again, and then again after that, and finally Eraserhead came hard in him. He held Izuku still while he did it, grinding into him, and it was like Izuku could feel his cock flex as it spurted inside him.
When he was done, Eraserhead just kneeled there, deep inside Izuku, breathing heavily. Izuku stared up at him, watching the sweat trail down his forehead and chest, unsure if he could even walk after that. Eventually, Eraserhead pulled out, and Izuku worked up the strength to sit up as the man carefully pulled the condom off, tying it.
“You okay?” Eraserhead asked quietly.
“I’m fantastic,” Izuku sighed.
“Oh, good.” The hero chuckled quietly, then asked, “Where should I put this?”
Izuku took the used condom from him, stumbling briefly as he stood up from the bed. “Be right back.”
He wrapped the condom in toilet paper before burying it at the bottom of the trashcan, swearing to take out the trash as soon as possible. Then he wiped himself down with a wet washcloth, realized he was desperately thirsty - which probably meant Eraserhead was, too - and ventured naked out into the main room to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He spotted their barely-drunk cups of coffee on the coffee table and snatched them up as he passed, dumping them down the sink before setting them aside to wash later. He came back to his bedroom with two glasses of water, just to see that Eraserhead had tipped onto his side on the bed at some point and was snoring softly into his pillow.
Izuku giggled quietly. Asleep, Eraserhead didn’t look nearly so fierce - just cuddly. Izuku set both glasses on his bedside table, then carefully worked the blankets out from under the man. There was just enough space between Eraserhead and the edge of the bed for Izuku to lie down, and Izuku told himself he would only rest a minute, before waking the hero up so he could go…
———
Izuku woke with his alarm, hours later. His mouth was dry and tasted like something had died in it and a slight headache throbbed at his temples. He groaned into his pillow, slapping an arm out to find his phone and cancel the alarm before it could get louder.
‘7:00 am, Saturday’ blinked at him from the screen and Izuku sat bolt upright as he realized he was gonna be late for training with All Might. Something shifted in bed behind him, which was when he remembered the previous night.
Eraserhead was still curled in bed with him, one arm wrapped around Izuku’s waist, hair a bird’s nest. Izuku gaped at him, flushed. Holy shit, he’d actually nearly gotten himself killed, and then he’d invited a pro hero he didn’t know back to his apartment and lost his virginity to him!
He sat frozen for a moment, astounded at his own gall. And then he remembered that he had less than half an hour before his mom would get home, and the panic kicked in. Screw being late for training with All Might - if his mom came home to find a random stranger in his bed, pro hero or not, his life was over.
“Eraserhead! Eraserhead!” he hissed, shaking the man. “Eraserhead, wake up!”
The man came awake with a startle reaction that had Izuku dodging off the side of the bed.
“Huh?”
Izuku popped back up, too freaked to even care that they were both still naked. “Listen, Eraserhead, I had a really great time last night, but you gotta go.”
“Kid?” the man asked, still blinking confused sleep out of his eyes.
“Eraserhead, please,” Izuku nearly begged. The man finally seemed to wake up, glancing around as he realized he was still in Izuku’s bed. “My mom’s gonna be home in, like, fifteen minutes, and you cannot be here when she gets back.”
“Oh, shit,” the man cursed. As one, they both scrambled up from the bed. Eraserhead stumbled, shoving his feet into his pants, while Izuku dumped his clothes from the previous night into the hamper, rushing to pull a pair of pajamas from his dresser and get dressed.
Izuku had a brainwave and quickly ducked out into the hall to check that his mom hadn’t returned home early for some reason. Bedroom - empty, bathroom - also empty, no one in the main room… He jogged over to the front door, stuck his head out, didn’t see her on the outdoor walkway, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned his head, saw his winter coat and his sweatshirt both hanging from the coat rack in the entranceway, and realized they both smelled of a combination of alcohol and cigarette smoke.
Eraserhead emerged from the bedroom just in time to see Izuku tossing them both into the kitchen, onto the floor in front of the combination washer-dryer. Izuku snatched up his capture weapon and goggles - wow, the capture weapon didn’t feel like any fabric Izuku had ever felt before, that was pretty cool - and rushed to meet him in the doorway, where he was shoving his feet into his boots.
“Listen, kid - are you gonna be alright?” Eraserhead asked, looking concerned. Or maybe he also had a hangover like Izuku - either way, his brows were drawn and he squinted down at Izuku. His hair was still a mess.
“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine, I had a great time, thank you - it’s just, you know, Mom,” Izuku babbled. The hero took his things from Izuku, draping the capture weapon over his shoulders and shoving the goggles in a pocket.
“Well… okay,” Eraserhead muttered. He was still squinting at Izuku, like something about him looked different in the morning light, though Izuku wasn’t sure what that could be. Izuku didn’t have the time to work out whatever he was thinking. Paranoid, he slipped around the hero, opening the door again to check that his mom hadn’t come up the stairs in the previous minute. If she did, Izuku was gonna make Eraserhead go out the window; he was a hero, it would be fine…
The coast was clear. Izuku opened the door fully, showing the man out. They both squinted against the morning sun.
“Seriously, thank you,” Izuku said. Feeling a little bold, he leaned up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Eraserhead’s cheek, finally getting a smile from the man. Then Izuku rushed back inside, shutting the door, on a mission to get the rest of his clothes from the previous night into the washer before his mom got home.
He fumbled for his phone, dialing. “All Might-sensei? I’m so sorry, I slept through my alarm, I’m gonna be a little late…”
He hoped Eraserhead didn’t regret what they’d done, though Izuku supposed even if he did, there was nothing he could do about it. After all, the chances they’d run into each other again anytime soon were slim…