Athletic Wear was really underappreciated.
The breathable material, the cool, slimming shades. How it allowed movement but was just snug enough in all the right places.

Being slow didn't seem that bad a thing, I thought, trailing behind a dark knot of hair, breath heavy- though from the actual exercise or the fantastic view I was enjoying, I couldn't be sure.

He kept slowing down, trying to keep pace with me. It was monumentally annoying and disruptive of my whole plan.

Beside me, I couldn't do anything but worry about my open-mouthed breathing and the way my thighs lightly slapped together with each jog; in front of me, though, I felt the ease of self-consciousness and was even awarded a sight as delectable as the first taste of birthday cake.

Shota slowed again, this time with a quirked eyebrow. The path proved far more interesting than his face as I quickened my jog with great reluctance.

"You're doing it on purpose."
"What? No I'm not."
A long hum reverberated in his throat, eyes sliding in my direction. He wasn't even sweating, the bastard.
"Funny you know exactly what I'm talking about, then."

Damn it. I reached up to tighten the elastic hold on my hair, stalling. The smugness of his face was both irritating and attractive. I really need to get a grip on the hormones.

"If I did that to you, I'd be a pig. Why's it okay for women to do it?"
"You sound like those people who get pissed off when they don't get blue shells and mushrooms when they're in first place," A second wind stretched my lungs, filled my limbs with invigorated momentum. I fell into step without further complaint. "In Mario Kart, you know?"
"You're faster than before."
"Maybe you're just getting slower in your old age." An obvious lie; if anything I was slowing him down. I threw him a grin and he nudged me, slight enough not to send me tripping into the dirt.

The students- my little Operation Submersion team- were obviously a no-go today and, being the bold new person I was trying to be, had invited Shota instead. I don't know who was more surprised- him when I asked or me when he showed up bandage-less. I guess Recovery Girl really did attack him at the festival.
We had just passed the entryway again, completing our first lap. Yaoyorozu never let me to stop before four now because Come on, that's only two miles.

I was still mildly suspicious they were trying to kill me.

"Have you come to any conclusions about your mom?"
I beat out four or five paces, collecting my thoughts.
"I'm confident she did it to protect me. I don't know if it's because of something she experienced, something that happened to me at a different, younger time, or…"
"Or?" He repeated gently.
"...Or it has something to do with my father." I shook out my arms. "Can we do a twenty second sprint? You can stay with me or leave me in the dust, I don't care."

His dark head nodded and I almost tripped over my own feet, caught in admiring the ruggedness of his face. How could someone walk away with such a large facial scar and come out more attractive? I would've looked like some poser Yakuza thug.
I shook the thought out of my already-sweaty head. The tendons of my legs heated at the sudden overuse, hair whipping in a self-created wind as I propelled forward.

I didn't have a single memory of my father; just a paper doll silhouette, never needing filled because there was simply no need for him. This was the twenty-first century- single parents were nearly as common as children born with quirks these days. My mom was more than enough, and we were happy. No matter how angry or confused I was at her, there was no denying I loved my mom.
But what if there was more of a reason why my father had never been in the picture? Every time I tried to remember how Mom explained his absence hornets entered my brain, loud and distracting, pushing me further away.

Eraser Head really was a stealth hero; when I'd dashed off he'd fallen on the wayside, probably expecting a much slower pace from clutz-o-rama me. Now, though, I could sense him beside me, hanging just slightly behind, as if to give me the space I needed.

The sprinting bursts were another training exercise borne via Yaoyorozu to fine-tune endurance and lung capacity. My muscles were already quaking over what Iida would try and incorporate after joining our merry little group.

Shota fell gracefully in step as I slowed back into an easy jog.

"It's clear Mom doesn't have a water quirk like me. It's not unfathomable to guess my father did. You checked the database and she's not there, so let's go on a limb and say he was a real piece of work and she fled with me, to keep me safe. But the level in which she did it? To lie about her quirk, brainwash me into not using mine or trusting others, to take away my one real friend-" The idea was tilting the earth underneath my feet, moving everything just slightly so I felt in perpetual motion.

"Sometimes people do really stupid things, trying to protect those they love," Shota offered. I nodded, still trying to get over the gumminess in my throat. "We can dig deeper; with UA we have a lot of resources at our feet. But if you keep sidestepping your mom, it's only going to grow worse and worse."

"I know,"
A young couple waved as we passed them, a baby with the face of a peach gnawing on its own fingers happily within the stroller between them. "I've texted her a few times, just giving updates and saying how busy I am. She wants to meet up this weekend for brunch. I can't not go; that'd be so suspicious, but what can I do?"

"Do you want me to go?"

My feet stumbled over themselves in my abrupt halting. Shota, with feline poise, slowed, turned to face me without fault.
If he went, I wouldn't have to worry about her pulling whatever quirk stunt she was capable of. Certainly not with a witness- a quirk-cancelling witness, at that.

"You'd really do that for me?"
"Why wouldn't I?" He looked at me strangely. I shook my head like a dog with a chew toy, feverish in my gratitude.

"You don't- if you don't want to, you definitely don't have to, but I would feel so much better if you did. Wow," I laughed, already lighter. A dimple poked out, just slightly, and we began another slow pace of running. "But how will we explain why you're there?"

I don't think I'd ever seen him stumble before.

"What?" I asked. He had dampened a little after the sprint, but the red crawling up his neck was new. "What is it?"
"Forget it."
He sped up, just slightly, as if to leave the topic behind us. I hurried after him, grabbing his elbow and pulling us to another stop. Shota was having trouble meeting my gaze and I pulled closer, hand still on his arm. "What? Why are you acting all awkward?"

"Remember earlier, when you asked about the label thing and joked about seeing other people?" His voice was weird, like newscasters who tried to remain neutral even when they clearly had their own personal opinions on a matter.

"You mean when you hung up on me?"
He still wouldn't look down at me, ignoring the jab. A hand tried to rake through his tied away hair and I was immediately reminded of Toshinori's similar gesture. This conversation suddenly felt a different color than before.

So, okay- I'd joked about the whole thing earlier. Did the idea of labeling us as actually, officially, dating turn my bones to the consistency of cheesecake? Yes. Did my heart beat just a trifle harder at even thinking of referring to Shota Aizawa as my boyfriend? Absolutely. But I let my logic and self-doubt eat holes through the dessert-like quality of the idea: We'd had one Official Date; he casually saved my life once. There was a handful of cozy naps tucked in between.
He was also a professional hero, with class and suavity and probably a stable bank account. He didn't stumble over his words and forget to breathe in front of crowds like I did. He was confident and mature.
I was the doppelganger version of an adult, barely keeping my head above water.

My brain didn't need the help of others to tear me down to size; I was the professional of the category.
The usual criticisms and self-denials were abruptly silent in this moment.

Because Shota Aizawa was nervous, and at last looking right at me.

"I...Don't want to see other people, Chiyo."

For someone who taught about sensitivities and empathy, I sure sucked at picking up on hints.

"You...want to meet my mom? As my-" I couldn't say the word out loud yet. "As my significant other?"

Maybe rubbing your neck was the universal sign for discomfort. He did it now, looking almost irritated. At himself? The cheesecake feeling wobbled my legs, its sweetness so filling my teeth ached.

"If you don't want-"
"No," I breathed, because speaking normally and taking in oxygen simultaneously was proving suddenly difficult. Shota watched me with unreadable eyes. "I mean, yes. I'd like that very much. If you- if we- you and me, to-"

His reaction was like those stop-frame animations, adding one feature at a time; first the dimple, then the crinkle on either side of his eyes. Heat burned through my body. I covered my face, trying to recollect.

"Are you okay?"
"Mhm."
I probably didn't look it, crouching into a little idiot ball like a love drunk armadillo trying to hide from the world- or in this case, one glowing, smiling Eraser Head. "Just, you know, give me a minute. Maybe don't talk; I don't want to explode anything." Or anyone. Or the planet.

The fabric of those glorious joggers gave away his movement even before he hummed, kneeling down next to me.

"Would this be an inappropriate time to officially ask you to date me, then? Because I would like to date you, Chiyo Tsutomi. For more than just sleeping purposes."

Hands gently pried at my wrists, exposing a face that could make a strawberry envious of such a pallor. My deep breathing exercises weren't slowing down anything at this point.

"Me?"
"Yes."
"Just me?"
Shota's eyes kept crinkling, amused. "Do you...want to date someone else besides me?"

I shook my head against the notion. His shoulders relaxed, just slightly. The ground felt cool against my knees when I moved closer, touching his face and kissing him fully on the mouth. I liked the way he always went still, as if every kiss was a gracious surprise he was never fully prepared for.

"I accept the proposition. Thank you for the consideration," I spoke against his lips, relishing the way his smile moved against my skin. "Guess what?"
"Hm," His expression was muddled, caught in the closeness of the moment. I leaned in just a bit more, running a hand down his chest.
"Loser buys dinner."

Shota grunted, thrown off balance as I pushed him over and bounced to my feet, ripping in the direction of his flat with the devil on my heels.


It was probably, kind of, a shady move on my part.
But it didn't make me feel any less smug when I arrived first, practically sanguine when a tall, grumbling figure approached from the trail, a solid fifteen seconds later.

"I'm feeling generous, so I'll let you pick the restaurant."
He flicked my forehead before entering the apartment, ignoring my answering whines. "There's a local place nearby that delivers. Go look at the kittens and I'll order."

The fuzzy, sleepy-eyed little babies had nearly doubled in size, meowing animatedly as soon as I opened the door. "Cat"- the mother- was nowhere to be seen, but I did notice a partially open window, still too high for the kittens to reach but perfect for a parent needing a break.

"Hello," I cooed, falling to the floor in a puddle. The kittens immediately began an investigation, batting at my fingers and climbing the hills of my horizontal body. Endo expertly clambered up and kneaded at my chest, curing all my ailments with the loudest of kitten purrs.

"They're so big now." I commented as long legs strolled in. The floor creaked slightly and a body appeared parallel to mine. "They're probably old enough to adopt now, huh?"
"Have you mentioned them to anyone?"
"No."
Endo had fallen asleep between my lungs, a pink little nose breathing warm air onto my collar. Shota reached over and nuzzled between her ears, looking uneasy.

"We could just...Keep them all."
He seemed to be having difficulty meeting my eyes. Two kittens had found their way into the crook of his closest arm, another making a nest in his hair. He looked like a mother hen, clucking in annoyance but secretly prideful in their attachment to him.

"You want to keep them. All of them."
"Hizashi can barely take care of himself, and the only version of kitten Nemuri has any knowledge of is the sexual kind-"
"We would have six cats between us, Shota."
"That would just be three per household, if you think about it logically."

'Logically'. 'Logic' dictated three cats a piece between our two apartments- one of which being the near-equivalent of an impressive walk-in closet. I wanted to laugh but his expression was so earnest I nearly felt bad.

"Shota, I think Yamada and Nemuri will be excellent cat parents."
"But they have no experience-"
"We can do impromptu visits, just like real social workers. If they fail an inspection, we'll make them pick up volunteer hours at the shelter or take a training class," I knew they had puppy training classes; surely there was something for kittens, too. I could actually picture Yamada and Kayama in one of those fenced-off circles, surrounded by regularly-dressed cat parents as they sat in full hero uniform, looking out of place but completely dedicated.

Endo bemoaned my sitting up. Holding her with one hand and pulling at the elastic of my sports bra with the other, I tucked her little body in until nothing remained but a fluffy little head poking out. "You're not worried about Toshinori having a kitten?"

"Nah." He followed me reluctantly to the kitchen where I began the search for paper plates. "It might honestly do him some good, having a pet. Give him some normalcy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"

Have you ever had one of those moments where you thought you'd discreetly picked your nose, only to realize someone was watching you the entire time?
That's how Shota looked as I turned to him.

"Working with All Might takes a toll on a person; it's not like All Might's been stationary for very long. Toshinori hasn't been able to take root anywhere since becoming his assistant."
"What does he even do for him?"
"You know. Schedules meetings, appointments. Book signings."
"Book signings?" I laughed. Shota shrugged, passive.
"He enjoys the limelight; I wouldn't be surprised if there's a book floating around out there."

I'd thought he was just jealous, but maybe he really did have a problem with All Might. I hummed, finding a stack of plates in a low cabinet before carrying them back to the small table near the sliding glass door. Why hadn't I ever noticed this table before?

A presence was slowly drifting in this direction, as if reading the apartment numbers outside each household. For the past week I had been practicing feeling outside myself for water sources. At first it was maddening; the drip of a faucet in a nearby bathroom, the hours-long pacing of my apartment neighbor before strangely hovering behind his front door for nearly thirty minutes, the insurmountable number of people within the arena yesterday. With each passing day the submersion became easier; now it was more about drowning out the static while trying to focus on specific targets- namely, a delivery boy with an armful of takeout.

I opened the door, scaring the young man whose fist was raised to knock.

"Er, hi. Are you-"
"Yep! How much?"

He was staring- gaping, really. My eyebrows rose and he blinked to life, relaying the price. Upon reaching down to pull out the few crisp bills I'd placed in my waistband I solved the staring problem: an extra boob was nestled between the genuine articles, Endo's sleeping face still poking out of my shirt. A little pink tongue was just apparent between her teeth.
The staring made a lot more sense now.

"Chiyo," An accusatory voice sounded behind me. I balanced on one foot, stopping Shota from coming closer with the other. The delivery boy looked up from my chest and startled at the sight of the dark, brooding man behind me, moving quicker in counting out my change.

"Thanks!" I called as he all but bolted away. Shota frowned at me like I'd done something inappropriate. I shrugged, handing over the two large paper bags. "I'd honestly forgotten she was in there. Here."
"I lost; I was supposed to pay."
Endo didn't make so much as a whimper when I placed her on the couch, cozied up in a nested blanket. "I'd already planned on paying. You paid for everything on our date; it was the least I can do."
"Then what was the point of racing?" His voice was pained, as if he didn't do stupid antics like this all the time. I grinned, settling in across from him. The containers were filling the room with delicious smells. My stomach growled in anticipation.
"A logical deception."

I hadn't realized Shota could make the scary face without levitating his hair.

"Now, let's get back to business here," I steepled my fingers, letting him dole out the portions for both of us. "How much do I bring up without seeming accusatory? Do I mention bumping into Manami, casually, and when Mom asks what happened I make some off-handed comment about how close we used to be and how nice it was to catch up?"

"So glaze over the whole lying-and-quirking event?"

Hm. "That'd be shady, huh? She might realize I've been cleansed and try to pull me away for…" For what, exactly? A brain-washing? The idea still sounded so silly. And yet…

"What if you just asked her?"
He said it so casually, concentrating on sucking up a cluster of noodles like he'd asked something as basic as the weather forecast. My fish-gaping expression must have burnt his skin; he looked up, refocusing. "What if you just asked her what really happened with Manami? Not in an accusatory way, exactly. Mention the memories that re-emerged after seeing her." He took another bite, chewing slowly. "Let her explain."

"We have to confirm her quirk, by the end of it," I drew a breath, stomach hesitant at the food entering as something tasting like fear quaked its foundation. "If I don't and she does have some sort of mind quirk, she'll just revert me the next chance she gets."

Shota nodded in agreement. I could only give a weak smile when a water bottle slid across the table in my direction.

How would I not vomit before the conversation was over? Hi, mom, this is my boyfriend. By the way, did you brainwash me for nearly twenty years? What if she denied it all? I thought about the notebook tucked away safely at home. Shota, Manami, and Toshinori were all aware of the situation; I wouldn't be alone. Even if she got to me I had back-ups, like an overzealous gamer saving ten times in a row.
It'll be okay. I'll be okay.

Shota didn't interrupt my brain-bake this time. I found one of his legs under the table and intertwined mine around it. He looked up, a smile carving just one segment of his mouth.

"I'm really glad you're coming with me."

My earnestness made him suddenly shy, red tinting the skin of his neck. The reaction made me too bold; I slid the intertwined leg up his, prodding around his lap. A hand abruptly stopped my adventure, two dark eyes dryly watching me. I hissed when his fingers traced the curve of my foot before making a quick retreat back to my side of the table.

"She was pretty bold the first time I met her. Can't wait to see what it'll be like this time around."

"Oh," I'd forgotten they'd- we'd- met before, in the park. That felt like an eternity ago. "She's- I'm not going to lie, she's going to get very personal. Mom doesn't understand boundaries. At all." I leaned closer, eyes wide in emphasis. "Like...At all."

"She accused me of targeting you and questioned what kind of man I was," Humor rang in his tone while embarrassment filled my pores like smog. Evidently I'd forgotten all about this encounter. He went back to casually eating, reaching over for the water bottle we were apparently sharing. "Little did she know, her daughter is a far more volatile creature than she assumed."

With barely an ounce of effort the bottle's content exploded, soaking Shota's stupid-shocked face. He glowered.
I sniffed, returning to my plate.

"Food's really good. Excellent choice."
"That's strike two." The deadly calm of his tone made my heart beat a little nervously.

It didn't stop me from poking the slowly-stirring beast anyway, though.

"Mm. Strike three, then you kick me out? Trap me in that smelly sleeping bag you're always carrying around?"

Shota continued to eat, letting me draw my own conclusions. Which, truth be told, was a good choice- my mind began building worse and worse scenarios. Request more running dates? Take a sudden interest in sports and make me participate? Give Kayama my home address?
I quickly pulled the water from his dripping hair. His interest piqued at the glimmering orb of liquid revolving above my palm.

"How much water can you hold at once?"
I'd never thought about it.
"I've never thought about it," I answered articulately. "I think it's probably somewhat reflective of how much weight I can handle physically. If it's moving, though, I can hold a lot more for a short period."
"Do you get headaches, or any mental drawback like before?"

I shook my head, thoughtful. "I've been working on submersing into my surroundings- a little farther every few days. Mostly I'll get tired, like with any other physical or mental activity."

Reaching out was a lot easier than refiguring the shape of water; fatigue weighed just slightly against my senses as I flattened the orb, creating a disc no thicker than a plate. Basic shapes were the highest level of achievement I could reach. The disc pattered against my cleaned dish like a sudden rainfall upon release. Shota watched with interest, lost in thought.

"Can you balance on top of water? Harden it?"

"Using my quirk outside of regulation is all pretty new to me. I have no idea what I can do," The embarrassment I felt wasn't wholly unfounded; kids half my age were already capable, knew so much more about themselves, than I did. Dark hair nodded again.

"Your ability to control and regulate the aquatic aspects of the human body is remarkable. It means you've basically fine-tuned your quirk. You can either run with that or try and work backwards, to see the scale of your abilities," He seemed almost talking to himself. I blushed nonetheless, unused to any sort of quirk praise. "You were able to explode specific areas of blood vessels, but also able to immobilize an opponent without destroying their blood systems and continue the flow to their brain, incapacitating them without fatality."

Shota trailed off, in his own world. Awkward, I cleared the table, shuffled off to the kitchen. The leftovers sat lonely in his nearly-deserted refrigerator.

Focus on my blood-water abilities, or un-learn the acute sensitivities I'd nursed for decades and start over? There were perks to both, I supposed. One required proximity- the other, simple access to water and physical strength. Shota was still in la la land, arms crossed and day dreaming out the window, so I fell onto the couch. Endo let out a purr, still nestled in the blanket my head rested beside.

"It seems silly to restart, but having at least one powerful, long-range move would be nice. If I could've used the water at the USJ to put distance between the students and the villains, maybe Midoriya wouldn't have had to sacrifice his limbs."

Shota let out a reawakened scoff. He lifted my outstretched legs, settled on the middle cushion. My feet could barely touch the other side of him with the new elevation. "Midoriya is a walking crash dummy- he would've left with broken limbs even if there hadn't been an attack."

"The closer someone is, the better it works," I held a hand up, examining my fingers as if there were instructions written upon them. "I know the body pretty well- I've studied and felt my own for so long- As in, with submersion, " I glared at the peevish look disfiguring Shota's face into a smirk. "I've never...I'd never done what I did to Shigaraki. I don't know if I could do it without physical contact. If I hadn't got the drop on him, he could've easily avoided it."

"So you need to learn your maximum distance of accuracy, and at least the basics of hand-to-hand combat," He surmised, absently caressing my knees as if a cat was perched across his lap rather than two legs. I tried not to tense up every time he brushed up near the scar, veiled by my leggings. He inhaled a long breath.

"What do you want to do?"

"About my quirk, or at this precise moment?" I asked, earning a pointed look. At this moment? Is passionately making out an option? Losing myself in the delirium of being with you? "I don't want to bother you, or anyone else- maybe I could find a martial arts class-"

"Don't be ridiculous," He snorted. Alright then. "I'm never too busy to help you with this. There's no school tomorrow, either- we could go somewhere- the beach, a lake, whatever- and see what you can do, lightly test your limits. See at what distance you can immobilize me."

Startled fear erupted across my face at the idea. Shota chuckled, curving his hand right over the hidden scar on the inside of my leg. "I'm a little tougher than you give me credit for, Tsutomi. Plus I can cancel your quirk at any moment. Then you're just a helpless-"

My leg raised to its own accord, knee bending to allow my bare heel to strike against the top of his dumb eraser head. I expected his usual hurt-baby reaction.

Instead I received cemetery silence, face smooth as a gravestone.

"That-" He began slowly.
Endo perked up, waking at last. In an instant she'd disappeared over the side of the couch, ducking for cover as two red eyes suddenly incinerated the couch to ash, leaving only me to face the flames.

"...Is strike three."

It wasn't the sleeping bag, or baseball viewing- it was much, much worse.

Like an idiot I tried to submerse into his fury, slow him down to near comatose in order to achieve my escape. The act bore no fruit- wisps of obsidian hair were floating around a set jaw and the glowing of his eyes meant my quirk was useless. Hands struck like vipers, finding the soft parts of my stomach, the underside of my thighs. I shrieked in protest, flailing madly.

"No!"
"You've earned this, Tsutomi. Your pleas are futile." There was no time to laugh at his humorless voice that sounded straight out of a video game; he'd caught one writhing leg. With the eyes of the devil Shota sketched the curve of my foot, just like before. I kicked with more force than I even knew I possessed, rolling off the couch with the momentum. He was on me before I could even stand properly, collapsing my legs with a menacing grin.

"Poor Tsutomi, forgetting who she was dealing with." He was partially right- I hadn't realized how weakened he'd been after the USJ attack.
At least in comparison to now, carrying me around without so much as a grunt at my kicks and slaps. Fingers dug into my side again and I jerked with a yelp.

Think think think. I hadn't been blessed with siblings, no matter how I'd begged as a kid. Instead my mind raced through the countless movies Mom and I had watched, looking for retaliations. Why weren't there more scenes like this in films? Tickling wouldn't work from this angle, and my physical attacks were useless. That only leaves…

"Chiyo, damn it."
Shota's neck nearly snapped off, digging his ear in the corner of his shoulder in an attempt to wipe away the slobber. I tried to escape amidst his disgust, only to find the grip around me releasing on its own. I all but flew through the air before landing on the soft comforter of his bed.

"Ah, I didn't know you were one of those bedroom talkers," I teased to his glare. My scuttling backtracking was cut short when one ankle fell to his grip, gentle but firm. I shrieked again as he fell forward, burying me beneath him.

"Shota! Sho-ta get- off!" I emphasized each syllable with a jab into his side, paddling my legs to no avail. An arm snaked around me to limit my movements further, proving quite effective. My traitorous emotions took note of the bedroom and our horizontal position, reading far too much into how his heart sounded against my ear, the smell of his skin, than the fact that he was trying to suffocate the life out of me.

"Shota!"

He gave a noncommittal grunt. I wriggled like a worm until my head popped up from underneath his chest, gasping a dramatic breath of fresh air. Two eyes pretended to sleep, at least meaning erasure wasn't active. Coupled with my own muscle I was able to flop him over, lying him on his back rather than pancaking the life out of me. Shota persisted in the fake slumber. The arm still under me shifted, searching for a more comfortable position. I turned on my side, using the crook of his shoulder as a headrest.

"Why did you stop me, before?"

Grey eyes were open now, looking at my confused face.

"When you started tickling me? Because I hate being tickled; I'm pretty sure everyone does-"
"Saturday night, at your place."
"Oh," On the couch, when I already thought I was going to burst from kissing him, let alone...that. "Um. Because I'm awkward, I guess? And…"
"And?"

I didn't really know how to express my thoughts without sounding stupid or melting into a puddle of embarrassment. Or both.
His arm remained in place as his body turned to face me, neck bent in a broken angle with the movement. I sat up and grabbed a pillow, adjusting it beneath him. The dimple in the corner of his mouth appeared to thank me.

"The guys I dated before- I didn't have a lot of good experiences, in this, er...department." My face felt like I'd just stepped out of a sauna. "I'm better at giving than receiving, I guess."
Shota squinted like I'd given the wrong answer to a simple math equation. "I...don't think that's how it works, Chiyo."
Really? Because that's how it's always worked. "Maybe some people are just harder to please than others. It's okay- I don't mind, really."

Shota sat up so abruptly I nearly tumbled off the bed. Which would've been quite a feat, considering we were situated in the middle of a mattress twice the size of mine at home. He shook his head, looking irritated.

"You should mind, Chiyo. That's bullshit."

This was not the conversation I'd planned on having today. I shrugged, caught between weird sheepishness and the great desire to change subjects.

And then he was looking at me.
Slowly, as if needing to take in every valley and curve.

"Don't," I said quickly. Shota found my face, body already moving towards mine. "We've been out all day, and then we went running-"

"So?" He murmured into my neck. Yeah, so? my body agreed, involuntarily turning my head to give his wandering mouth better access. The objections paused to consider before kicking back harder. I caught the hand roaming around my midriff and he reluctantly halted, expectant brows raised. I bit my lip.

"So, I'm sweaty, and gross." He clearly wasn't convinced but didn't persist, pulling far enough away to let my heart rate return to a more stable pace.

"What are you afraid of, Chiyo?"
Disappointing you. Not being as into it as you think I will be. "I'm not afraid, I just…It's not that important to me, I guess."

He still wasn't buying it. I scratched at his bristly chin for a distraction, smiling when his eyes fell blissfully closed. His jaw turned every which way for thorough coverage.

"What time do you want to go tomorrow?"
"After lunch sound good? Freshwater or the ocean?"
The hand tracing down my spine was buzzing my brain with glowworms. I fought through the warm light, trying to think. "I have more experience with freshwater. Plus, saltwater is heavier."
"I know a place that'll work. I'll pick you up around one."

Wow. Quirk training, with a bona fide professional. Was it stupid to feel so excited? I tried to center myself, calm the buzzing, but a grin askewed my face nonetheless, too much to contain. Shota pushed on my curled-up knees, brow knitted. "How do you sit like this comfortably?"

"Well firstly, I'm laying down, not sitting."

Deft fingers laced between my calves and pinched the inside of my thigh. I yelped, locking my legs together. "Secondly, my legs are shorter than yours, so it's easier. Plus there's no accessories to squish."

Shota laughed; still a wondrous sound. He pulled me closer. I felt like a koala bear, entire figure pressed against nearly just the length of his chest. Without shoes, I had nothing on his height.

There were no lessons to plan for tomorrow, and I had a few hours before the sun fully departed for the night.

A contented sigh mussed my hair as submersion filled the road maps of our systems, lulling us into our favorite shared place.

"Chiyo,"
"Mm?"
"Make sure to bring extra clothes," His words were sluggish, weak against the tide of submersion. "For...Training. Sweaty."

Sweaty?
There was no time to answer- the soft breath confirmed Shota's escape from reality, boyish in his unprotected expression. I snuggled in, leaving his weird suggestion for another time to analyze.


Author's Note: I like to imagine Chiyo never noticed the table before because Aizawa only recently bought it, secretly envisioning cooking her a meal sometime in the future. Men dreaming of date ideas are wholly adorable to me.