After Aizawa had put the suit in his car, he drove the two of them to the nice part of downtown for dinner. Part of him wanted to chastise the younger man for getting in a car with a pseudo-stranger, but a larger part of him preened at the unconditional trust he was being shown.

At the restaurant, they were seated promptly. Aizawa had pulled a few strings, called in a few favors to get a last-minute reservation in the booked-out restaurant. Aizawa was just on the low end of dressy-enough for the restaurant; Izuku was so far below the bar it was nearly laughable. But at the reservation—marked with a star by the restaurant owner, which labeled them as highest-level VIPs (favors are good)—they were let in without even a slight sneer at the t-shirt-and-cargo-shorts combination.

"Your menus, messieurs. Would you like to start with a nice red from our cellar? Or should I fetch the sommelier for you?"

"That won't be necessary," Aizawa told the waiter. "I'll have a coffee, black. And—" the pro hero hummed, looking at Izuku "—a cola with grenadine."

"Very good, sir. I'll be right back with your drinks." "What's grenadine?"

"You'll like it."

"Okay."

They both opened their menus. The menus that were almost entirely in French. Aizawa noticed the younger man's widening eyes. Because Japanese translations weren't the only thing missing from the menu...

"My mom always said," Izuku swallowed heavily, "if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it."

"What did I tell you before?"

"Huh?" The vigilante looked away from the menu, looked into the hero's eyes.

"In the shop. What did I tell you to do?"

"Let you take care of me." Izuku reddened but looked back down at the menu without further complaint.

With rapid service, the drinks were placed in front of them. "Are you ready to order?" "Uh—" Izuku said, floundering.

"Yes. I'll have the coq au vin. And my partner will have the escalopes de porc." Aizawa took the menu from Izuku and handed them both to the waiter.

"Excellent choices, sirs. I'll be out with the salad course momentarily."

"What is—what—y-you—" Izuku took a breath to get his bearings. "You don't need to impress me."

"What?" That hadn't been what Aizawa was expecting.

"The nice clothes, combed hair, shaving. Paying for me. Knowing goddamned French. The restaurant with actual cloth napkins."

"I—"

"L-let me finish. It's not that you don't look good—god do you look good—but you're forgetting that I know you. Normal you. And that I like normal you. I like wild-haired, scruffy you. I like splitting sh-sh-shitty konbini bentos with you on rooftops for dinner. You don't need to impress me, because y-you've already got me."

Aizawa was struck silent for a long moment. "How soon is too soon for you to move in with me?"

"Wouldn't it be you moving in with me? I live above a cat café, and leave the back stairway door open at night."

"Deal. I'll rent a moving truck tomorrow."

"Are you... are you kidding? Or not? I can't tell."

The hero had been half kidding. But now that he was thinking about it... "If you're in, I'm in."

"Is this a stupid idea?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Am I insane for considering it? This is literally our first date."

"We've known each other for five years. We've been friends, or so I'd like to think, for three. We were always heading this direction anyway. If anything, this is entirely logical."

"Fuck it. Yes. Do it." Izuku grinned like a lunatic, matched by a smile even more manic that split Aizawa's face.

The waiter had returned and, understandably terrified by the expressions on the two men's' faces, cautiously placed their salads on the table and scurried away.

Aizawa was the first to move, stretching his legs out so he could twine his ankles around the

younger man's. He placed his napkin in his lap, the movement quickly repeated by his partner. As he started on his salad, Izuku took a sip of the drink he'd been ordered.

"What is this?" The boy held the glass out in wonder. "This is awesome." "Soda with fruit syrup," Aizawa said with a grin.

"Awesome," Izuku repeated. "So, uh, what exactly did you order for me? The, um, esc—esc—uh —"

"Escalopes de porc? It's a breaded pork cutlet." Like katsudon, he thought smugly, remembering from a single conversation years ago that it was the vigilante's favorite. "They were written up in the paper a week ago, with the pork being called out specifically as their signature dish."

"That's why you chose—you remembered—"

"Yes." Much like Izuku, this restaurant wasn't something Aizawa would generally pick. But the chance to see the boy try this dish...

"Oh." Izuku blushed as he started eating his salad. "That's—thank you."

"Always."

"So that," Izuku said, mouth half-full like a cretin. "Always. What exactly are we?"

"Anything you want."

"You said that before. But what does that mean."

"Izuku, we are impulsively moving in together the day after our first date. I even-more-impulsively bought a ring yesterday."

Izuku choked, lettuce flying. A piece landed on Aizawa's sweater; the man calmly picked it off and placed it to the side.

"You—"

"Anything you want."

"So you want—"

"Everything. Everything you're able to offer me. More."

"Well, fuck. That's kind of heavy to lay on me."

"I know."

"It's our first date."

"I know."

"You're moving in after our first date. You apparently bought a f-f-fucking ring before our first date."

"I know." "You're insane."

"And yet you're still sitting here."

"...I'm insane."

Aizawa chuckled. "Yeah, I know."

They ate quietly for a bit, rubbing ankles comfortably. As the waiter took their salads away, Aizawa started a new conversation.

"So, in terms of telling Hizashi how we met, do you have any preference?"

"Oh, um. Eventually, he should probably, uh—" Izuku looked down, drawing a circle with his finger on the spotless white tablecloth. "He should probably know."

"You'd be okay with that?"

"He's important to you, and you trust him."

"Yes, but this is your secret."

"He's important to you, and you trust him, and that's why he needs to know. That's why I want him to know."

"Okay. But for Saturday?"

"Nezu always said that the best lies are just misleading interpretations of the truth." "Sounds like something that rat bastard would say."

"Hey, don't insult your future pseudo-father-in-law."

"Fuck." Aizawa was not looking forward to that conversion.

"Hah. But stick to something true, enough details to flesh it out, but missing all the suspicious parts. We met at a corner-store robbery. You came in to stop it, and hauled the villain off. We didn't talk, but I gave you a wink as you left."

"You were in a handmade spandex costume covered in blood and, if the villain hadn't been struggling so hard, I would have taken you in as well."

"We'll leave that part out."

"Okay. And then—"

"We met a week later. Same corner store, different villain."

"Fuck, that's right. That store is a villain magnet."

"Yeah, I swing by once a week just in case."

They paused their conversation as the waiter refilled their drinks, and again as he delivered their entrees.

"I think I spoke to you for the first time at our fourth meeting, actually," Izuku said. He took his first bite of the pork cutlet and his eyes went hazy. "Well, fuck me."

"Save that for the second date." Aizawa smirked and started eating as well.

The vigilante smiled down at his plate—though whether it was at the pro hero's comment or the quality of the food, Aizawa wasn't sure. "I can't remember what I said to you, though."

"If I recall correctly, it was something like 'fucking shitballs shit shit I'm on fire fuck.'"

"Oh, that was the time Endeavor—yeah, okay. That sounds right."

"Not telling Hizashi that."

"Actually, we can keep that in. A couple civilians got burned too—fucking Endeavor. You did stick around long enough to put me out. Asked if I was okay, and asked me my name."

"And then tried to capture you."

Izuku waved his hand around. "We leave that part out."

"So we just keep randomly meeting like this for five years."

"Yeah." The vigilante paused. "Damn. What took us so long?"

"Don't know." Aizawa leaned over to wipe some crumbs off of Izuku's chin. "At least we're finally getting our heads out of our asses."

"You have a nice ass." The boy frowned. "I didn't mean to say that out loud." "No take-backs." A moment of silent eating. "You have a nice ass too."

With a snicker, the younger man leaned back, barely a crumb left on his plate. Aizawa shortly copied the action.

"Patrolling tonight?" the pro hero asked.

"You're at south side warehouses, right? Meet up at midnight on block seven?" "Yes. Room for dessert?"

"God no. Pretty sure I would die."

"Well, we can't have that."

After the waiter removed the empty plates, promising to come back with the bill, Aizawa stretched his hands across the table, palms up, much as he had at the café two days earlier. This time, he didn't even need to wiggle his fingers; Izuku placed his own in them nearly immediately.

"Naps before patrol?" Izuku asked, corners of his mouth trending up. "Obviously. Do you want a ride home?"

"If it's not a bother."

"For you, problem child, never."

Izuku bit his lip enticingly as Aizawa paid the bill, as the man pulled out his chair so he could get up, as the man held open the car door for him. Izuku bit Aizawa's lip as they made out for several minutes against his café's alley wall, before parting reluctantly.

"I don't want you to leave," Izuku said.

"We're meeting back up in a few hours." "Still."

"I'm moving in tomorrow."

"Still."

"I'll see you soon." Aizawa placed a soft, chaste kiss against the mouth he'd been ravishing only minutes before. "Have a good nap, Izuku."

"Have a good nap, Shouta."