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Living together as a bunch of teenagers - especially a group of teens who’ve been through hell and back together - gives dorm life a particular dynamic. When you’ve carried your dorm-mate on your back, covered in their blood, then had them stitch up your face, personal space tends to take a back burner to emotional support and comfort.
Which means class 2A is touchy. Even Katsuki, bristling like a feral Pomeranian, seeks out the company of others after a particularly rough day. Cramming his way onto an already crowded couch under the guise of it being ‘his spot’. Which is to say it should have come as no surprise that Hitoshi would end up in the mix somewhere too.
It wasn’t something anyone thought about or even paid attention to. When Mineta left the school, Hitoshi simply slid in to fill the gap. Loud, abrasive purple was replaced with muted, quiet lavender. Hitoshi clicked into the group in a way that made it natural and unconscious, and everyone simply molded around it and went on about their lives.
Mina is the first to notice.
“No fair,” she complains to Ochako and Izuku one night as they stand around the kitchen counter, eating snacks straight out of their packages. She shoves another cracker in her mouth and pouts at the sofa. Izuku and Ochako turn to take in the sight with her, expressions a little startled.
In the half-lit gloom of the common room, Denki is sprawled on the sofa, the TV playing some trash action show on low volume. It’s a typical scene. Denki spends most evenings down on the couch, simply to exist in the circle of others, even tangentially. What’s unexpected is that Hitoshi is sprawled on top of him, half-watching the show too, Denki’s finger hooked adorably around Hitoshi’s ear, fussing idly with his piercing.
“I didn’t know that was allowed. I’ve wanted to hug the crap out of purple boy for weeks.”
“Maybe it’s a Denki-only thing?” Ochako says, looking a little wistful herself. The girls have all taken a quick liking to Hitoshi. His quiet calm presence has settled into their lives with the ease and grace of one who always belonged and finally showed up. “They’ve been close since they first met.”
“I didn’t think Hitoshi was a very… touchy… person.” Izuku muses as he snatches the box of pocky out of Ochako’s hand, dancing out of her reach as she makes a grab for them with a scowl.
“Boom Boom isn’t a touchy person, and he fell asleep on Sero last week.” Mina points out, liberating the pocky and returning them to Ochako.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Ochako advises as she makes a hasty retreat, arms full of snacks, “or you’ll lose your chance.”
Mina sticks her tongue out at her as Izuku snorts into his drink. The two of them spend another few minutes watching the moment on the sofa with shared fond smiles before they say good night and head to bed.
—
It doesn’t surprise Ochako or Izuku that Mina goes after her new mission with the passion of a woman possessed. They spend an amusing week watching her attempt to get Hitoshi to initiate some sort of physical contact and failing utterly. Not that he avoids her. It’s just her enthusiasm makes the whole thing a little odd, and most times, it ends with vaguely confused looks from Hitoshi and hidden snickers on Ochako and Izuku’s part.
Then they have a group movie night, and Mina throws tact straight out the window.
Everyone is beat. Aizawa had run them all ragged that day, and Izuku suggested a re-watch of some classic All Might movie with freakishly fancy popcorn provided by Katsuki. Something he complains about the entire time he's making it, yet everyone still ends up with a bowl featuring their own personal favorite flavor.
Hitoshi’s sitting on one of the couches, waiting for the movie to start and already looking half asleep. Mina snags both her bowl and his from Katsuki, marches straight up to him, and sits in his lap.
He blinks at her in mild amusement.
Mina shoves some popcorn in her mouth and smiles.
He shrugs, wraps an arm around her waist, and drops his head on her shoulder, pulling them both back against the sofa.
Izuku starts the movie and flicks off the lights.
Twenty minutes later, Hitoshi is asleep with Mina curled up on his lap, now sporting his jacket because she was ‘cold’, and she’s victoriously eating both their popcorns.
Mina takes it as an open invitation to use Hitoshi as chair at any given time from here on out, and Hitoshi welcomes the decision with open arms. Literally at times, with wiggling fingers and small pouts when Mina takes too long to sit down.
Like an inevitable avalanche, Hitoshi’s acceptance of Mina’s contact is the beginning nudge that sends the rest of the group tumbling gleefully after.
—
Shouto, surprisingly enough, is the next in line to worm his way into Hitoshi’s bubble. It’s late, nearly three in the morning, the moon long since set. Eijirou doesn’t want to be awake at this time of the night, but he’d woken up unbelievably dehydrated and staggered to the kitchen to drown himself in the kitchen sink.
On the way, a small light filtering out of the common area catches his eye, and he deviates to see if it needs shutting off or if some poor soul needs to be encouraged up to bed. What he finds instead is Shouto sitting on the couch, browsing idly through his phone. Hitoshi is seated next to him, legs in Shouto’s lap, head on his shoulder, Shouto’s hand pressed against his forehead. Hitoshi’s eyes are nearly shut, and he seems to be asleep or at least very, very close to it.
Eijirou freezes, startled to have walked into what feels like a tranquil and personal moment, and his hesitation means Shouto spots him before he can beat a hasty retreat.
“Migraine,” Shouto says quietly by way of explanation. Eijirou just nods with a small smile and leaves them be.
—
Word travels fast in a close-knit group like this, and all the boys are a little in awe of the fact that Shouto and Hitoshi settled so effortlessly into each other’s personal space. The girls are not.
“Shouto has a second career as a human heating pad,” is all Mina says when Eijirou mentions the unusual moment he witnessed. Then, she struts out of the room, leaving him to suss out the meaning behind that all on his own. Katsuki lets him struggle with it for a while before explaining the obvious.
“Cramps, Shitty Hair.”
“Oh! Wow. That’s so manly of him to help out!”
Katsuki just rolls his eyes and goes back to his book.
Eijirou decides if Shouto’s allowed to be in Hitoshi’s bubble, he definitely should be, which in retrospect isn’t logical at all, but gives him the confidence to pursue Hitoshi with the same level of enthusiasm he dedicated to bringing Katsuki into the fold.
He didn’t have to bother trying so hard. Hitoshi is a far easier win than Katsuki was. An arm around the shoulder a couple times is all it takes.
Eijirou is sitting on the sofa, chatting with Sero one day after class, when Hitoshi rolls in, eyes on his phone. He drops onto the arm of the couch Eijirou’s on and proceeds to collapse backward until he’s sprawled on the cushions, legs over the armrest, head in Eijirou’s lap. His eyes never leave his phone.
Eijirou drops an arm across Hitoshi’s chest as the other threads automatically through lavender hair - already pre-trained from a year and a half of life with Katsuki. Sero picks up the thread of the conversation, and the afternoon rolls on.
—
Saturday game night comes around, and everyone finds themselves down in the common area together. These group moments have become not only a tradition as the years progress but a much-needed outlet. Something that doesn’t have to do with quirks and villains and spending your days learning all the ways you might die or watch someone else die.
It’s an unwritten rule that none of that is discussed. Katsuki cooks - begrudgingly. Mina bullies people into participating. Everyone enjoys getting to watch Shouto wallow through yet another game he’s never heard of and doesn’t understand. Izuku always takes pity on him in the end, and they play as a team.
Kyouka and Hitoshi are the only ones immune to Mina’s persuasive abilities. Doubly so as a team, which means they end up planted on a loveseat to watch the arguments that are bound to happen when Katsuki and Izuku face off in a game of scrabble.
When Hitoshi gets up to get a drink, Sero steals his seat, seeking refuge from Mina behind their defenses. When he returns, Hitoshi drops onto the floor in front of Kyouka and wiggles fingers at her unintelligibly. A single earbud drops into his hand, and Kyouka starts flipping through her phone. She shifts her legs from straddling Hitoshi’s back to drape over his shoulders as she finds them something more interesting to listen to than the freakishly upbeat rainbow pop music that Mina and Denki have put on.
Sero sinks lower behind them and hides in his snack, so Mina won’t make him play charades.
—
A freakishly weird cold snap rips through Musutafu the following week, a residual weather anomaly from a villain with a weather quirk who had a little too much fun with it before they were finally taken down and arrested. The HSPC assured the city that the weather would return to normal on its own, but in the meantime, it’s cold, and Tsu is miserable.
She’s never done well with chilly weather, thanks to her amphibian tendencies, but usually, she can manage it with layers and strategic positioning by heating vents. Except the heat is out in the dorms. No one was expecting the temperature to drop so severely, and the entire system has been dismantled for repairs in preparation for the actually chilly season.
So Tsu is on a sofa in the common room, staring wistfully at the heating vent and just enduring. A shudder runs through her, and she folds in on herself, but suddenly a warmth is enveloping her, and her head shoots up in surprise as a hoodie settles around her shoulders.
She blinks up in surprise to find Hitoshi standing over her in just a t-shirt, looking mildly concerned and a little cautious.
“I’m no Shouto, but I run relatively warm,” He says cryptically, and Tsu doesn’t fully understand until he sits down next to her and holds his arms open. She shoves her arms through the sleeves of the soft, warm fabric and immediately throws herself at him, wrapping herself around him. He is warm, and it’s incredible.
She goes limp against his chest, finally feeling like the ice cube that’s been living in her gut has a semi-decent chance of melting. Hitoshi paws around on the table behind him till he manages to drag Denki’s switch into his grasp and settles in.
Izuku finds them there an hour later as he returns from the gym, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as he takes in a happily slumbering Tsu on Hitoshi’s chest. Hitoshi catches him looking and just presses a finger to his lips before he goes back to the game he’s playing.
Izuku waves and heads off to the showers.
—
Izuku has always considered himself one of the more tactile of the group - well, not nearly as much as Eijirou, but who can compete with the human embodiment of a cinnamon roll? Even Katsuki caved nearly immediately under the sheer force of Eijirou’s presence.
Anyways, Izuku is touchy. He likes his friends, and he enjoys showing it through affection. Hugs, fist bumps, hair ruffling, shoulder-rubbing, cuddling. The contact is dished out generously and liberally to those who want it and welcome it. Up until now, Hitoshi had fallen into the same category as Katsuki for Izuku, which was the ‘no touching’ zone.
Izuku respects it. He gets it; not everyone is into physical contact. So Izuku had kept his distance, showed his respect and affection for the newest member of their group in other ways. Stuck to conversation and funny memes. He’d kept it at Hitoshi’s comfort level. The last thing he wanted to do was make the boy feel uncomfortable.
Except Izuku has spent the last few weeks watching Hitoshi warm up to everyone around him, and he’s starting to wonder if maybe he misread the whole thing. Maybe Hitoshi isn’t against physical affection. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to ask for it. It just has to happen. That idea settles in Izuku’s brain and lingers there, working its way subconsciously into his brain until, in a fit of enthusiasm, it overrides his careful self-control and manifests.
A group of them are sitting out on the grass at lunch, chatting about odds and ends, the remains of their meal scattered around them. Izuku is sitting next to Hitoshi, gesturing wildly as he explains the intricacies behind his theory on how Hawks manages to maintain such precise focus on all his feathers.
“It’s all mental, you know? It’s gotta be something so deeply ingrained it’s basically instinct. He can’t actively think about every feather individually. He’d go crazy.” A hand flies out, tangling with Hitoshi’s as he turns to him, cheeks bright with enthusiasm, “yours is probably similar in some ways, right, Hito?! Or do you have to actively maintain it the entire time?”
“Oh, ah,” Hitoshi looks thoughtful, staring down at their entwined hands, but he doesn’t move to extract himself. “It’s instinctive mostly, though I have to focus more based on how many people I’m controlling.”
“See!” Izuku wheels on Ochako, who hadn’t really been arguing but now feels like maybe she lost a disagreement anyways. “It’s just like any physical quirk. It’s about habit and instinct and…”
Izuku chatters on, really on a solid roll now, and Ochako nods along agreeably. Izuku’s train of thought is disrupted momentarily as a weight settles on his shoulder, and he glances down in surprise. Hitoshi is slumped against him, hands still connected as he listens to Izuku talk.
Izuku slips right back into his rant, fingers curling around Hitoshi’s, and Ochako shoves another rice ball in her mouth and tries not to smirk too obviously.
—
Finals are swiftly approaching, and it sends everyone into a tizzy. People are locked in their rooms the moment they leave class, frantically scouring their notes, trying to cram every last piece of information they can into their brains before their teachers demand they regurgitate it.
The common room remains relatively empty and quiet during these times, no one can afford the distractions of a group setting, and that’s why Tenya seeks it out. He’s been locked in his room long enough that he’s starting to forget what sunlight looks like, and that can’t be healthy. So he drags his textbooks downstairs and settles on the floor to work through his notes on the one last essay standing between him and freedom.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was down here.”
Tenya glances up from his book to find Hitoshi hovering at the doorway, a comic tucked under his arm, headphones around his neck.
“Hello Shinsou-san, please, there’s room for the both of us.” Tenya sets his book down, giving Hitoshi a small smile as he pushes his glasses back up his nose.
“Iida,” Hitoshi gives him a lopsided smirk, “you gave me a black eye two days ago, and I gave you stitches last week. You can call me Hitoshi.”
“Oh!” Tenya’s cheeks heat at the informality, but Hitoshi has a point. They’re well beyond acquaintances and fast becoming friends, something Tenya has deeply enjoyed. “Well then, please call me Tenya.”
“With pleasure,” Hitoshi says, taking a hesitant step into the room. “So, it’s okay if I join you? I’ll be quiet. I just needed a break and a view that wasn’t the walls of my room.”
“Of course.” Tenya gestures at the surrounding furniture as he turns back to his textbook. “I’m here for the same reason, and it’s a common room after all.”
“Thanks!” Hitoshi slips into the room and, to Tenya’s utter surprise, drops down behind him.
“Oh, uh-”
“Don’t mind me,” Hitoshi says pleasantly and leans back against Tenya, slipping his headphones on. “You just seemed like you might need a backrest. Don’t want to slouch; you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
“Yes, well, okay.” Tenya stays a little flustered for a moment, but soon the sound of quiet music drifts from Hitoshi’s headphones, accompanied by the occasional turn of a page, and Tenya relaxes into it. It is kind of nice having the weight against his back. Something to lean against as he wades his way through yet another obscure historical event.
Hitoshi is humming along quietly under his breath to his music, but Tenya doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have a little company and companionship. He’d found he’s really started to miss it as everyone disappeared into the chaotic panic of exams. He might not be at the center of the dog piles that regularly manifest on their down-nights, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the comfort and reassurance of being curled up on a sofa with the people he’s quickly grown to trust with his life.
Hitoshi turns the page of his comic, head occasionally bobbing to his music, and Tenya returns to the task of tracking down relevant dates for the theory he’s trying to prove.
—
Ochako is starting to feel a little left out. Granted, it’s not like she’s tried to reach out to Hitoshi, but watching him integrate himself so easily into their group has left her feeling like she’s missing out. She spots multiple opportunities to snuggle up with him, but she just doesn’t have the courage Mina does when initiating affection, so she sticks to the people she knows.
Curls up like a cat with Izuku on movie nights. Throws herself at Mina in between classes. Walks arm in arm with Tsu across campus. But, when it comes to Hitoshi, she resigns herself to simply existing around him and wondering what all the hype is about. Curious why everyone else is so interested in constantly having physical contact with him.
Even Izuku seems to have crossed that invisible threshold - she’s caught them more than once on the sofa, crowded up together watching youtube videos, hands entwined in their lap.
She’s not jealous.
She might be jealous.
Maybe envy is a better word for it.
She’s definitely not thinking about it one night as everyone sits around the communal dinner table chatting after their meal. Chairs have been pushed back, the table cleared away, and everyone is just riding the food coma high until it sends them all packing to bed. Hitoshi wanders away with the last armload of dishes, and Ochako doesn’t watch him and wonder if he’s a good hugger. He probably is. Tsu seems to think so. Mina’s hugged him at least three times in the last two hours alone.
Mina leans forward to catch Ochako’s eye and gives her a sly look that has Ochako narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Mina just winks.
Hitoshi returns to the room, and as he heads for his chair, Mina kicks her feet up onto it, stretching casually.
“Sorry, seat is currently occupado. Find somewhere else to sit.”
Hitoshi frowns down at her, though his expression is more amused than annoyed. “You know I will literally sit on you, right?”
“Oh god, please don’t.” Mina moans, clutching her stomach and sliding lower in her chair till she’s fully sprawled over both seats. “I’ll pop if you sit on me.” She rolls her head, and Ochako sees that damn glint again as Mina flings a sparkly hand in her direction.
“Sit on ‘chako. At least she can make your meat sack tolerably lighter if she’s about to die.”
Ochako wonders if she’s already about to die, but Hitoshi just rolls his eyes and drops into Ochako’s lap like it’s literally nothing. Ochako squeaks in surprise and then wraps startled arms around his waist before he tumbles out of her lap and to the floor.
“Please just tell me to get up if I’m too heavy,” Hitoshi drawls, slinging an arm over her shoulder, “I’m pretty sure I’ll barf if you make me float.”
“Welcome to my life,” Ochako says, and Hitoshi grins, settling more comfortably in her lap before he rolls his head back and has an entire conversation with Eijirou upside-down. Ochako hugs him tight and gives Mina a bright smile, happy to once again feel like a part of the group.
When everyone starts to trail off to bed, Hitoshi stands up and drags Ochako into a lavender-scented hug.
“You’re a great chair!” he says, and then he’s gone, off to his room with a wave over his shoulder.
Ochako just waves vaguely at him and smiles, thrilled to have confirmed that Hitoshi is, in fact, an excellent hugger.
—
Momo’s the first to put a name to what’s going on. Not that it needed a name, but as soon as she says it, it seems impossible that it didn’t before.
“Hitoshi’s a bit like a cat, isn’t he?” She asks, taking a sip of her boba as Mina and Ochako blink at her in startled surprise.
“Oh. My. God.” Mina gasps, completely forgetting the conversation she was just in with Ochako. “He is, isn’t he?”
“He’s not any more affectionate than the rest of us.” Ochako points out, wondering where this is going.
“Which is so cat-like,” Mina replies, popping a mochi in her mouth. “Aloof but affectionate. God, you know his headphones have cat ears on them too, right?”
“You two are just making it weird,” Ochako complains because she’s only just gotten to start to hug Hitoshi regularly. It rivals Izuku’s hugs, and she’s not willing to lose it because people start treating him like the dorm pet.
“I’m not making it weird,” Momo protests, looking offended. “I’ll prove he likes it!”
“I love where this is going,” Mina says delightedly as Ochako groans into her hands and says goodbye to her newest cuddle buddy.
—
On any given day, Momo is about ten times smarter than anyone is expecting. Her quiet grace makes everyone forget that she’s one of a few that got into UA on recommendation alone and then proceeded to prove why that happened every single day. She does the same with her theory on Hitoshi.
It’s a beautiful day out, and most of the class has trooped up to the roof to enjoy it. Denki is attempting to teach Izuku how to kick a hacky sack - it’s going poorly despite Izuku’s impressive coordination. Sero is towing snacks up from the kitchen, where Tsu is attaching them to long strips of tape. Even Katsuki shows up, leaning against a nearby railing to talk to Eijirou, face tilted towards the sun. Mina and Ochako only have eyes for Momo as soon as she appears.
Hitoshi is already sitting nearby, and Momo walks straight over and settles next to him with a quiet hello. Hitoshi gives a vague nod and swipes through something on his phone. Momo glances at Mina and Ochako to make sure they’re watching and Ochako mouths ‘don’t’ in one final attempt to stop what is sure to be a disaster. Instead, Momo just gives her a reassuring smile, and Mina throws herself in Ochako’s lap, seemingly to get comfortable, but Ochako knows it’s to keep her from interfering.
Momo settles more comfortably on her knees, her shoulder brushing Hitoshi’s, and he leans into it immediately, weight settling on her. Momo asks Sero for a drink delivery from down below, and as she’s chatting with him, one graceful hand drifts up, slipping under Hitoshi’s chin. Nails slide up and across skin till they hook behind his ear, and she scratches the spot lightly.
Mina and Ochako watch in complete awe as Hitoshi leans into it, head tilting back as his eyes slide shut and he hums happily.
“Cat-toshi,” Mina whispers with unbridled joy. “Can we keep him forever?”
“I think that’s already happened,” Ochako replies, and then she gives Mina’s head scratches too, nails digging into curly pink hair as Mina makes happy sounds.
—
They’ve been standing in line for about five thousand hours, by Hanta’s estimate. If people don’t move soon, he’s going to tape himself to the wall just to keep himself standing. Hitoshi looks even more exhausted than he does. Probably because they’re the unlucky ones that drew the short sticks on holding a place in the line for everyone on the latest merch release.
Well… Hanta had drawn the short straw, though he’s still partially convinced that it was rigged somehow. Hitoshi’s here voluntarily keeping him company. ‘Wasn’t going to sleep anyways’ is all he says when Hanta gives him a look of bemused confusion at his offer. Hanta’s not about to dig too deep into it because he was not looking forward to standing for hours alone with only his dwindling cellphone battery to keep him company.
So, here they are, five thousand hours later, and about six coffee runs in.
“Don’t pass out on me,” Hanta says, feeling like maybe he might pass out on Hitoshi.
“If I collapse, leave me here, save yourself,” Hitoshi replies, slumping against the wall with a grimace. He rolls his head to give Hanta an amused look. “You know, I’m not even going to buy anything.”
“Are you kidding me?!” Hanta’s jaw drops, and Hitoshi chuckles, scrubbing his face. “Why are you here?!”
“I dunno,” Hitoshi shrugs, “didn’t want you to have to wait alone. Actually, I’m a little surprised Izuku didn’t offer to come with you.”
“He has a standing offer to come with everyone,” Hanta says with a laugh, “but he waited last time. I wasn’t going to make him do it twice in a row.”
The line in front of them finally starts moving, shuffling forward slowly before it comes to a halt again. Hanta glances at Hitoshi, who seems resigned to his spot on the wall.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Hanta asks, frowning at Hitoshi, where he’s starting to doze off.
“Nope, seemed like a waste if I was going to get up at the crack of dawn anyway.”
“Come on, you sleep-deprived idiot.” Hanta grabs an arm and hooks it around his neck, dragging Hitoshi forward with him in the line. They come to a stop again, which means the doors haven’t actually opened, and people are just getting antsy. Great.
Hitoshi wraps himself around Hanta and drops his face in the crook of his neck. “Wake me up when the doors open. Or don’t and just drag me along. I no longer care.”
Hanta snorts in amusement and wraps an arm around Hitoshi’s shoulders, cheek pressed into lavender hair as they use each other to stay standing. The rest of the group rolls up an hour and a half later, minutes before the door is going to open, to find the two of them barely conscious but at least still vertical. Mina whips out her phone, and Hanta’s fast enough to see it coming, giving her a wide grin. Hitoshi just pouts and won’t look at the camera. Mina snaps a picture anyways.
“Remind me never to be nice this early in the morning ever again,” Hitoshi mutters as the line finally finally starts moving. Hanta just lets him cling to him like a human teddy bear as the rest of the group falls into place around them, a press of bodies that keeps the two sleep-deprived boys upright and moving in the right direction.
Hitoshi does end up buying something, thanks to Hanta’s insistence that he should have something to remind him never to do this again. Mina, far more awake and with nails that help the process, attaches the small cat-zawa charm to Hitoshi’s phone.
Aizawa will hate it, and Hanta can’t wait to watch it happen.
—
Katsuki’s not an idiot. He sees what’s happening. He’d just been hoping Hitoshi would turn out to be less of a physical contact freak than the rest of them. Then at least Katsuki wouldn’t be the only one struggling with adjusting to receiving constant affection instead of annoyed smacks to the head or jabs to the arm.
He watches as Denki pries the door open with his electric-bright personality. Watches in resigned horror as Hitoshi welcomes it readily like he’d always been there, and this was always how it’s been. How?! How does he do that? Just step right into the group like they’d been saving him a seat, and he knew it.
He watches the rest descend like a pack of wolves once the door has been opened. Watches as one after the other accepts him into the fold, casual touches becoming more and more common as Hitoshi settles into the rhythm of life in class 2A. He watches and knows it’s only so long until the inevitable conclusion arrives.
What he isn’t expecting is that every person that clicks into place with Hitoshi makes Katsuki feel a little more settled. It feels right to see Hitoshi here with the rest of them. He belongs. And Katsuki finds himself wanting to make that clear to Hitoshi too.
The opportunity presents itself at the premiere of a new movie. Katsuki wasn’t even paying attention to what the film is because Eijirou just shoved a ticket in his hand and said everyone was going. So they’re all packed in the line together, shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the theater to open when Katsuki finds himself standing next to Hitoshi.
“Nice jacket,” Hitoshi observes, and Katsuki scowls at him and then down at the Deku jacket he’s wearing. It’s an exclusive, actually, because none of them are pro heroes yet. However, Auntie Inko made it, and Katsuki respects the shit out of her. Also, it’s a good jacket.
“Fuck off.”
“Yeah, sure.” Hitoshi shrugs, utterly unbothered by Katsuki’s attitude, as he turns to move off to another part of the group. Katsuki grits his teeth and snatches Hitoshi’s hand before he can get far, dragging him back.
“I didn’t mean literally, you asshole. You’re allowed to stand next to me.”
“Oh, cool. Alright.” Hitoshi says, cool as a goddamn cucumber. His fingers twitch, and Katsuki realizes they’re still holding hands. He goes to drop the grip, but Hitoshi beats him to it, shifting till their fingers are threaded together. He stuffs his other hand in his pocket and peers at the line behind them. “I’m surprised the theater will hold this many people. Good thing we got here early.”
“Yep,” is all Katsuki can manage to say because they’re still holding hands, and it should be weird, but Hitoshi makes it seem like something they do all the time. It’s only a matter of time before someone notices, though, probably Mina, and then the shit will really hit the fan.
Except then Mina does notice, eyes flicking back to the pair of them, down to their hands, and then back up to meet Katsuki’s eyes. Instead of the explosion of emotion he’s expecting, she just smiles at him, looking like he just gave the final seal of approval, and maybe he kind of has.
“You alright?” Hitoshi asks as Katsuki lets out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Shut up.” He snaps, but there’s no heat behind the words, and Hitoshi just smirks, leaning into him as they continue to wait for the theater to open.
When people begin to slowly drift into the theater, Eijirou appears behind them, face wedged between them, a heavy arm over each shoulder, and they stagger to the seats Mina and Denki have staked out as a weird jumble of limbs and empty threats.
When the popcorn starts getting passed down the line, and everyone collapses into each other to watch the trailers, Katsuki finally feels like the collection is complete.
This is the group of people he’s going to claw his way to the top with.
The people who will have each other’s backs through everything the world is going to throw at them.
His competition and his comrades.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.