The first paycheque Akira earns gets plucked by his landlady. The moment Akira returns to his apartment, the lady is already outside and eyeing him up and down like a bloodhound. Akira puts on his best saunter and smile, convinced somewhere in those stale bones was a libido waiting for action.

"Uraraka-san," he reclines against the apartment's staircase. Tone slippery sweet, "Ravishing as ever - "

"Not having it, Akira-chan," she outstretched her hand. "You're two months late, don't try and pull your love-making stunt on me, young man. You're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type," he insists. Startled by the remark.

The hand makes grabby motions.

Knowing when he's beat, Akira abandons the envelope of cash he was looking forward to splurging on a new tea kettle, grumbling.

"Don't make me wait again," Uraraka thwacks the envelope in his direction. When she turns to disappear back into her office under the stairs, Akira bares his canines. Insides growling at being threatened by a bleak old cretin. Molten steam bubbles up his throat.

Whirling in a red-eyed mist, Akira storms up to his floor. Hands fisted in his tight pants pockets and knees bending at crushing angles. He takes five steps at a time and doesn't bother using a key to unlock his door. He twists the doorknob and grins from popping metal. After all, any broken doorknob was the landlady's job to fix.

Not his expense.

.

"I heard the repairmen at your door this afternoon," Aizawa says in greeting at their usual convenience store. "They woke me up from a nap."

Quickly, Akira pretends to slurp down his packaged noodle broth. Out of sight, three index fingers belonging to various ethnic groups slid into his mouth.

"I don't know how you can drink that stuff," an unexpected voice joins them at the convenience bench. Tensei drops into the seat on Akira's other side with a bento box. "Don't you know what's in it?"

Fingers.

"MSG?" Akira says after swallowing. Slightly out of breath after golfing down what consisted of a hand.

"Among other crap," Tensei opens his bento. A bright display of luscious greens and grains. "You should be eating the essential food groups."

Akira doesn't even begin to know how he could explain his food group adhering to a simple rule; that being Tensei's species.

He'd prefer to eat his own hand than experience that conversation.

"I'll keep that in mind," he doesn't dwell on it and puts on a show of slurping noodles. Enzymes in his saliva turning it to tar-like ash.

"By the way," Tensei goes on to say, eye twitching. Pheromones leaping. Akira tries not to inhale too loudly. "That bar you sent me to was bursting its' top off with drag queens."

Aizawa looks up from his instant ramen and drops his chopsticks.

Akira winks. "It's a Thursday night tradition," he says.

Tenei's eyes were alive with expressions Akira could practically taste, "and," Tensei goes on, "You didn't plan on mentioning that? Or the fact that, that place was rambunctiously gay? You said it was boring."

"No. You said that," Akira half-shrugs, "I simply didn't correct you."

Tensei turns sharply at this and focuses on getting out a fancy silk pouch he kept his chopsticks in.

"Aw," Akira cocks his head on a fist, staring at Tensei adoringly. "Should I apologise?"

Silent, Tensei eats his dinner. Gaze fixed on the traffic outside. It surprises Akira, he never took the nerd to inherit such a petty personality.

"Is he always this sensitive?" he asks Aizawa. The man was looking between them. Eyebrows knitted together beneath that mangy hair. Absent in thought, he was stirring his noodles. Having yet to eat.

"You're just troublesome."

"Hah," Akira says. Not taking it to a heart he doesn't own.

.

"Could I get a - oh, it's you."

A friendly demeanor sours in scent the second Akira turns from the espresso machine. Single shot dribbling its delivery into a mini cup for some customer who keeps leaving a number on napkins. One of the cousins from Aizawa's doorstep was there. Ida Corporation tag draped around her neck.

"Glad to be remembered," Akira tongues his bottom lip. Lapping up her bitter disgust like dark chocolate.

"It's," she grips her wallet. Mouth tensing a line. "You made an impression."

Akira smirks deviously . "I'm sure I did."

"Kiko-chan?" Some woman behind her touches 'Kiko's elbow. A plane-faced older lady whose eyebrows arch at the younger girls' sudden blush. "Do you know him?"

"We've met," Kiko busies herself with opening her purple wallet and offering Akira her card. "I'd like a caramel frappuccino and blueberry muffin."

She lingers not long after. Mooning a table for an hour and five blueberry muffins later.

Akira can't concentrate with her buzzing anxiety mocking lust-filled air he's worked to maintain during his shifts. When his work for the afternoon ends and he clocks out, Akira storms over to her table where Kiko was picking at leftover muffin patches on various patty cases. He drags over a chair from another table. Metal legs screeching along tiled floors and drops into it.

He grunts, "What do you want, my number?"

Kiko's eyes go criss-crossed at the napkin he produces under her nose. Flushing, she flaps the generous offer down.

"No, no! Sorry! I want to know about my cousin."

"Vest-boy?" Akira guffaws and tries not to take her rejection to heart. First Uraraka and now muffin-girl. He glances about the cafe and consoles himself with the envious eyes of others at his napkin. "What do you want to know?"

"How is he?" in a rare act of brevity, she meets his gaze. Face stern and hands fisted. "He, he's never been away from home this long. We're all worried."

"You do know the guy fights crime for a living, yeah?" Relaxing into his chair, Akira twirls the napkin. Eyebrows raised. "Pretty sure he can take care of himself."

Kiko's posture droops. "I know, but...he's sensitive."

"Girlfriend, you don't have to tell me that."

Twisting the muffin patty cases, Kiko asks, "He's eating well, right? Taking care of his nutrition? He's got a sensitive stomach."

"As far as I can tell," he sighs. Looking about the cafe and figuring this conversation wasn't as nearly interesting as he had hoped it would be. Kiko was all nerves and high-blood pressure. "If that's all, I'll be going."

"Wait!" Kiko stands with him and roots into her purse to retrieve an odd earpiece. "I can't seem to locate Aizawa-san today, so can you please give this to Tensei?"

Curious, Akira takes the little device and eyes it, "...You know you can just use a phone, yeah?"

"Tenei isn't picking up any of our calls," Kiko unhappily admits. Wringing her hands, eyes big and sincere, she says. "His little brother wants to talk to him so could you...please give it to Tensei?"

"Dammit, I can't say no to a pretty woman," Akira pokes the flushing girl's cheek. She rears back, gawping. Pocketing this earpiece he gives a two fingered salute and waltzes from the cafe. Breathing in the girl's wet scent of attraction.

.

The earpiece bleeps and bloops nonstop on Akira's walk home. Finally, having enough of the noise, he places it in his ear and presses a button, figuring it was an accept.

" Quit. It!"

Silence, then a tiny voice asks, '. ..is this Eraser-san?'

"No," Akira growls, wishing it was. "This is a friend of his."

'How do I know that?! You could be a villain for all I know. Did you hurt Kiko-chan?! Oh my God is Kiko-chan dead ?!'

"I'm going to hang up if you don't stop shouting, brat."

'So…' the tiny voice wavers, 'you're not a villain?'

"I'm a barista."

'Barista's can be villains!'

"Listen, brat," Akira stops at a crosswalk to sigh, "Kiko gave me this earpiece because she couldn't find Eraser. I'm the guy's pal, so as a pal , I'm doing him a favour. I'm sure you can talk to your nerdy-ass brother soon, so shut up. Yeah?"

'Wait Mr. Villain-san! ' the voice shrieks as the device drifts inches from his ear. Against his better judgement, Akira waits, 'I apologise for my unsavory assumptions. I'm sure you're a perfectly well-behaved barista!'

"I wouldn't go that far."

'Do you know my brother? '

"Eee, kinda," he says. Wondering why he was still talking to the little loudmouth.

'Is..is he okay?'

Ah...No wonder Tensei flew the coop , Akira snorts to himself. This guys' family is breathing down his neck about everything he does.

"The nerd's fine. Let him breathe."

' He can breathe fine at home.'

"Yeah? Then why'd he leave?"

There was frustrated high-pitched rumbling on the other end. Making Akira chuckle.

"I'm going to hang up so quit the calls for now. Alright? They're bugging me out."

'One last question, barista-san! Could, you, um, try and convince my brother to come home for dinner sometime...? Dad says it would be nice to know he's doing -'

"No. Bye bye."

Hanging up on the shrieking gave Akira a vindictive sense of relief.

.

Putting his long legs to use; he kicks Aizawas' door. Sole of his foot slamming against the wood in measured thumps.

"Hey! Aizawa!" he shouts, recognising the unwashed kitten smell as the hero. "Where's the nerd?"

Rough grumbles make their way to the door and upon opening, reveals Aizawa's sleep-scrappy bun hair and red eyes. Body basically hanging off the doorknob.

"He's at the laundromat," the man yawns. Jaw cracking, "Why?"

"Got a thing from his brother."

Aizawa's lifeless eyes blink.

Akira scruffs his horned hair.

"Tensei's little brother... you met him. Sheesh. Poor kid."

"No. Hmph. I met that girly cousin of his at the cafe. She damned well cleared the muffin display. It was gnarly," Akira says and bends at the waist to get a better look at his neighbour. "You're not looking so hot, Aizawa. You should sleep."

"I was ," and with that the door slams shut. Muffled, Aizawa spits, "I'm going to UA tomorrow so I'd appreciate peace."

The gruff tone has Akira startle a laugh out of himself. He's never heard Aizawa so grouchy before. Accepting the high-paying job must have strung up his liberal nature.

"I'll pray for you," he jokes and makes his way to the nearest laundromat. In it, he finds Tensei's large, muscular body hunched over a basket of laundry with his phone out. Meaty thumb scrolling with a ferocity that threatened to break. "Oi," he calls.

"Not now, Fudo-san," Tensei says the second he catches sight of him. "I'm in a perilous situation and do not need to be made fun of."

"So I guess you don't want the earpiece your little brother smuggled over," Akira drawls. Rolling the tiny device in-between his fingers like a penny and launching against an assorted dryer.

Tensei stops what he is doing to stare. Phone threatening to slip into underwear. "Tenya did what?"

Shark-like, Akira cocks his head and tosses it. Tensei does drop his phone, catching the earpiece like it was made of glass.

"The brat needs some serious anxiety medication," he feels the need to say. "He thought I was a villain and killed Kiko."

"Kiko gave this to you?" Tensei, curiously enough, drops onto the bench where people sat and waited for their clothes, and doesn't blink. "Kiko, my cousin, actually gave this to you and you accepted it."

"By complete accident," Akira says, "she came into my cafe. I couldn't say no to her. She had muffin crumbs all over her mouth."

"You're a bizarre character, Fudo-san," Tensei chuckles after a moment. Relaxing. He looks at the earpiece, cheeks warm and eyes glassy. "Thank you. I've missed my brother."

Emotions too overwhelming for Akira to swallow splashes all over him.

"Uh huh. Good for you. Be careful when getting back to Aizawas'. The guy's gone nutty from sleep-deprivation and wants silence."

Tensei bites his lip.

Getting caught completely off-guard, Akira is shot a hopeful look too pretty for the world. Cheeks red, eyes large. The lumbering guy rubs his large thighs together and looks downright edible.

"Umm, Fudo-san," Tensei begins, flexing an arm as he scratches the back of his head. Engine exhausts in his elbows puttering.

"Alright," Akira says before he even knows what he's agreeing to.

"You don't even know what i was about to say," flustered, Tensei's expression jiggles.

"Well," Akira scoffs to save himself the embarrassment, "you look downright pathetic. I'm agreeing from sympathy, that's all."

"Right," Tensei doesn't look like he understands, or whether or not he should take offence. "I was going to ask if I could stay at yours tonight so I don't wake Shota up getting in. I...tend to have loud steps..."

Akira only has a single futon - but Tensei doesn't know that.

"That's fine. You know I sleep naked though, right?" he flashes a wicked little grin.

"Right," says Tensei. Caught off guard, but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not after all the crap he's put himself in. "That-that's fine. We're both men."

"We are," says Akira and, taking true pity at the loud gulping, nods his head to the washing basket. "Need help? You look lost."

"Please!" Tensei sags. Shyness of the sleeping arrangement vanishes. He stands and grips the basket handles. Shaking it. "I've never had to wash my own clothes before. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Simple," Akira grabs the basket and puts it down on the bench. From there he upends it, "Sort the pile into whites and blacks. Then by fabric type."

For a second, Tensei hovers. Observing Akira sort through his underwear and dirty clothes before joining to help.

"Thank you," he says again. This time with a big smile.

"No problem," and Akira attempts to bat away the pure emotions. "There was a fly."

.