"Hey, Izuku."

"Sho," the younger man said as he absently returned Aizawa's chaste kiss, focused on wiping down the coffee machine.

"Key?"

"Back pocket."

Izuku stuck his butt out towards the pro hero. Aizawa fished the key out with only a slight squeeze, drawing a snort from the otherwise-preoccupied man.

"Where am I going?"

"Pull your truck to the alley out back, green door. There's only the one bedroom, but I cleaned out half the closet for you. Put the rest of your stuff anywhere; I'll help you unpack once I come up."

"Got much more to do down here?" Aizawa felt his lips tilt up as he noticed the fattest cat he'd even seen start winding around his legs. The cat was wearing a collar with a large 'DO NOT FEED' label on it.

"Twenty minutes and I'll meet you up there." "Mmkay. Patrolling tonight?"

"Nope. You?"

"Took the night off. Had dinner yet?"

"No. Want to order delivery once I get up there?"

"Yep." Aizawa paused. "Did we just skip the awkward stages of dating and move straight into a stable relationship?"

"Sho." Izuku put his rag down and actually turned to face the pro hero. To emphasize the seriousness of what he was about to say, he placed his scarred hands on the taller man's shoulders. "Sho," he repeated. "There is nothing remotely straight or stable about either of us."

It was only seconds before the vigilante broke down into giggles, a good-natured chuckle following from Aizawa.

"You're ridiculous." "Pot, kettle."

"Used correctly this time. Very nice."

Izuku grabbed the forgotten rag and flicked it at Aizawa. "Get your nice ass upstairs and stop distracting me."

Putting his hands up in an innocent 'I yield' position, the older man waited until Izuku resumed cleaning before he headed out to pull the rented truck around back.

Aizawa hadn't been exaggerating when he said he had few possessions. He'd left all furniture and kitchen tools at the old apartment for the subletter he'd found and had stored his sleeping bag in his office at UA, so the only things in the truck were schoolwork, clothing, and the random miscellaneous junk a nearly-thirty-year-old collects over his lifetime. Just slightly more than would fit in his small car.

Three boxes. His entire life was three boxes.

No, not anymore. His entire life wasn't possessions. Not when there was an amazing man only a few meters away, on the other side of the external wall.

His clothing made it into the closet, a few pieces ending up in the empty bottom drawer of Izuku's dresser. The schoolwork—mostly loose papers, files, and his laptop—were stacked carefully on the coffee table. The box of junk was relegated to a corner for the time being.

And, just like that, Izuku's apartment became Izuku-and-Aizawa's apartment.

The pro hero had just sat down on the couch and booted up his laptop, trying to figure out the WiFi password, when a calico kitten jumped onto his keyboard. Arms circled his shoulders from behind and a husky voice whispered into his ear, "Endeavor is bastard man, all lowercase, no spaces." The passing-on of the password was accompanied by a temple kiss. "I'm going to change into sweats. Takeout menus are in the top drawer next to the fridge; if you go with Thai do Monsoon East, not Sai-Bai."

After a stunned moment, Aizawa got up from the couch and followed his vigilante into the bedroom. The younger man was shirtless and halfway through taking off his work slacks when the pro hero asked, "Are we an old married couple?"

"How could we be? You haven't even proposed yet." Izuku bent over to pick up the pants and fold them, not feeling uncomfortable standing there in just his underwear.

Aizawa blinked, nodded, and stepped over to the dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, he took something small out and tossed it to Izuku. The vigilante caught it. Stared at it.

"Open it, problem child."

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Probably. You won't know until you open it."

"You're seriously proposing to me while I'm wearing gym socks and Fat Gum boxers?" "Apparently."

"Fuck you." Izuku started crying.

"Hey, hey, Izuku, love," the pro hero said softly, striding forward to comfort his young partner. He

wrapped the boy in a hug. "Save it for the second date."

The crying vigilante hiccuped briefly with a laugh. "Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll marry you. Now put the ring on me so I can finish getting dressed and we can order food; I'm starving."

Aizawa leaned back, his manic toothy grin having receded into an almost-natural-looking smile. He took the velvet ring box from Izuku and opened it, exposing the understated silver band, inset with two gems, one green and one black. He slid the ring on the vigilante's finger and they both stared at it.

"Fat Gum?"

"Sho," Izuku whined, moment broken. "It was a boxed set; came with a t-shirt of Suneater's debut that I really wanted."

"So you're telling me if I opened your dresser right now I wouldn't find more pairs with other heroes' faces on them."

"That's not fair."

"I knew you were a hero fanboy coming into this. As long as you're not wearing Hizashi's face to bed, I can deal with it."

"That, uh. C-c-can we talk about th-that?"

The pro hero narrowed his eyes. He'd heard Izuku's stutter before, but usually only when anxious or nervous. "What is it?"

"I—I know we've joked about, y'know—" the younger man lowered his voice "—bedroom stuff. But is it okay if we, uh, h-hold off on..."

"Yes. As long as you want. As long as you need. And if that ends up being forever, that's fine." "No! I mean, yes, thank you, but not forever. I definitely want—but just not right now?"

"You don't need to thank me, Izuku." The older man looked serious, rubbing his partner's arms. "If I—or anyone else—doesn't respect that boundary, that's not okay."

"Even if—"

"Never. Have you—"

"Not the way you're thinking. But, boundaries, I'm not—"

"I need you to tell me if I ever overstep. I'm—when I'm around you, I'm finding that I'm—" "You haven't overstepped."

"You make me feel possessive and jealous and protective and I want to tear apart everyone in your life who ever looked at you and said you're lesser. I don't want to control your life, but I want to take charge, I want—"

"L-let you take care of me." Izuku looked up at the older man—at his fiancé. "I want to let you take care of me."

Aizawa's hands tightened painfully around the shorter man's biceps as he brought them together for a bruising kiss. Which was interrupted almost as soon as it started by Izuku's stomach growling. Closely followed by a responding gurgle from Aizawa's.

"So. Thai? Which one did you say was good again?"

"Monsoon East." Izuku tugged on a pair of faded green sweatpants and a large white t-shirt and followed Aizawa back into the living room, admiring his new ring. As the pro hero fished the menu out of the drawer, Izuku looked around. "Where did you put all your stuff?"

"Closet, coffee table, corner," Aizawa said absently, flicking through the paper menu. "Anything you won't eat?"

"No shrimp. You c-c-can order for me, again, though," Izuku said, uncharacteristically shy. "I, uh. I liked that."

The pro hero's face split into a wolfish grin. "Good. I liked it too." He sat on the couch and dragged the smaller man into his lap. Izuku curled into the warm body, tucking his green head under Aizawa's chin. The vigilante nuzzled into the scruffy neck while the hero placed a call, only stopping when Aizawa tossed his phone onto the cushions nearby.

"Comfortable?"

"I will be once you change out of this jumpsuit."

"I thought you liked my jumpsuit."

"I like how it looks on you. I do not like cuddling with kevlar-reinforced micro-carbon-fiber fabrics."

"The fact that you know what my jumpsuit is made out of is really fucking sexy."

"Mmm." Izuku pulled back slightly to look his fiancé in the eyes. "Just wait until I give you a full breakdown of the mixed fiber composition of your capture weapon."

"Minx."

"Jumpsuit."

"For you, anything." The pro hero wiggled a bit. "Izuku, darling, love of my life?" "Yes, Shouta, asshole, bane of my existence?"

Aizawa choked out a laugh. "You'll need to let me up."

"Oh. Right. You and your 'logic.'" Izuku rolled bonelessly out of the older man's lap, winding up in a puddle on the floor. Immediately, two matching gray cats climbed up and sprawled across the young man's face. "Nooooo. Save me."

"I've seen you fight. Save yourself." The pro hero escaped into their bedroom to toss on something more comfortable. He was back out quickly.

"You," Izuku said, angrily, accusingly. He pointed at Aizawa with a rigid finger. "You said no

wearing Present Mic to bed."

"I said you can't wear Hizashi's face to bed. These," the hero said, rubbing the flannel pants with the voice hero's radio show logo on them, "don't count."

"So you're fine if I get some pajama pants with Mic's hero logo on them. Or maybe with Hawks's logo, or Endeavor's, or some other hero's?"

Aizawa's back went rigid and he strode up to Izuku. "Are you trying to make me jealous?" "Maybe. Is it working?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"No one has ever gotten jealous over me. No one's ever cared enough. But you—"

"I care."

"You'll take care of me."

"If you let me."

"I'll let you take care of me."

"Thank you." Aizawa plopped back down onto the couch, drawing Izuku onto his lap once more. "But no hero pajamas."

"Recovery Girl themed?"

"...Acceptable." No need to get jealous over the woman who'd been almost a surrogate grandmother during his own time at UA.

"Good. Did you want to watch something while we wait for our food?"

"If we watch the news, are you going to nerd out and give a running commentary on heroes' quirks?"

Izuku shrunk a bit, though Aizawa held him tight. "I—yeah, probably. I'm—" "Then let's do that."

"What?"

"What?"

"You actually want to hear—"

"I'm going to destroy every person who ever told you you weren't worth listening to." "Please don't kill anyone for me."

"Okay. Not tonight, at least."

"That's all I ask." Izuku stretched up to grab the remote and flick on the TV. He leaned back into Aizawa's arms. "That's the Iidas' agency's newest sidekick, Glowstick. I don't know if Ingenium's introduced her to you yet. Her quirk is—"

Forty minutes passed this way, Aizawa never growing bored of Izuku's mumblings. Even adding his own comments, when he had personal interactions with the heroes mentioned. The vigilante's stream of words was cut off by a knocking at the downstairs door.

"I'll get it," Aizawa said, squirming out from underneath Izuku and, after grabbing his wallet from the counter, headed towards the stairs.

Izuku, looking at the coffee table, yelled at his retreating back, "Can I move the—" "—yeah, just be careful with the—"

"—I will. Does it matter what—"

"—no, either will be—"

"—perfect, I'll do that."

By the time Aizawa came back upstairs with the delivery, his schoolwork and laptop had been cleared from the coffee table, in exactly the way he'd wanted. He unpacked the takeout containers onto the table and handed a pair of disposable chopsticks to Izuku.

"Where should I start?"

"Hmm," the pro hero sat down next to the young man before handing over a container. "Here."

The next hour was spent eating—Izuku handing all his mushrooms over to Aizawa, Aizawa directly feeding his broccoli to the broccoli-haired boy—and watching the news. By the time they were full, it was nearing ten p.m.

"What time do you have to wake up for school tomorrow?" Izuku asked.

"I should get up around five." His patrols usually ended at three, which gave him a full two hours of sleep most nights.

"I'm up at four to start the pastries, but I'll let you sleep in. You want to set your own alarm? Otherwise I can wake you up."

"You can do it; that sounds nice."

"Any chance you'd be able to fall asleep this early?" Izuku began cleaning up the containers, placing the leftovers in the fridge. "I try to catch up on sleep on my nights off."

"Contrary to popular belief," Aizawa said, getting up to help his vigilante, "I am capable of sleeping at night."

"Good."

Izuku stood on his toes to give the other man a kiss and sauntered into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The pro hero soon followed, his own toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. They shared the cramped room and small sink, including a very near miss when Aizawa almost spit on Izuku's bent-over head. Eventually, the pair wandered into the bedroom.

"Is that what you're wearing to bed?" the older man asked.

"I usually just wear my boxers. Sometimes a t-shirt if it's cold out."

"Same. That still okay with you?" Aizawa started removing his t-shirt.

"Wait—" Izuku placed a hand on the older man's forearm. "Is that—I mean, I know we said—and I don't want to seem like I'm teasing, and I know we were joking about, y'know, bed stuff, but—"

"Are you comfortable being in the same room with me in only your boxers, knowing that it doesn't represent any actual intent?"

"Yes?"

"And are you comfortable with me being only in my boxer-briefs, knowing that it doesn't represent any actual intent?"

"Also yes?"

"And are you comfortable with over-the-top innuendo, knowing that it doesn't represent any actual intent?"

"Yes."

"And are you comfortable with me absolutely ogling your body, finding you sexy, telling you how hot I think you are and what I want to do to your body, knowing that it doesn't represent any actual current intent?" The pro hero's eyes turned dark and unreadable, the intensity creating a tense aura around the pair.

"F-f-fuck." Izuku blushed. "Yes."

"Then we're on the same page." Aizawa's face smoothed out, a small smirk on his lips, and he continued removing his shirt. "If I'm going to tease you, I'm going to make it explicit that it's teasing. And, to be clear, it will never be done with intent, until we have a nice long conversation about it. Is that okay?"

"I can deal with that." The younger man took a few moments to compose himself before stripping down to his underwear as well.

Which brought the two of them to a conundrum, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the expanse in front of them. The twin-sized bed, probably left over from Izuku's childhood home, already covered in sleeping cats.

"So..." Izuku trailed off. "How do you want to do this?" "How do you normally sleep?"

"Starfished on my stomach. You?"

"On my back."

"How do people normally sleep together in the same bed?"

"I don't know, I've never done it before."

"Never?" Izuku turned to the hero, unreadable expression in his eyes. Maybe the older man wasn't the only one a little possessive over the other. The two men hadn't had the 'previous relationships' talk yet, but Aizawa suspected it was going to be very sparse on both their ends.

"No, wait, that's not true. Hizashi and I used to have sleepovers in high school, before I officially

moved in with the Yamadas and they gave me the guest room. But we always did tops-to-tails." "No thanks."

"How about this," Aizawa said as he plugged his phone charger in near one of the nightstands.

He slowly, carefully moved some of the cats off the bed. Peeling the covers down, Aizawa laid himself on his back, only slightly off-center. He awkwardly moved one arm out, creating a gap under his armpit. With his other hand, he patted the open area he'd made.

Izuku flicked off the light with a goofy grin and launched into bed, slotting his head on the proffered shoulder and splaying out on his stomach, limbs covering the older man. Aizawa tugged the covers up over them and settled with a sigh.

Laying there, with Izuku... it just felt right. Though it also felt like a boney knee pressing sharply into his spleen.

"We're getting a new bed tomorrow," he said sleepily.

"Shut up, pillow." The boy grumbled as he tucked further into the pro hero's armpit. "Goodnight, Izuku."

"Goodnight, Sho."