#and I tried to pay cash with my yen like a CHUMP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amaranthinecanicular · 6 years ago

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Jack of all trades. Enough people have called him that over the years, usually with intent to flatter. Maybe they don't know the other half of the phrase. Maybe they just choose to ignore it. Either way, Sero came to terms long ago with how well it fit, like a second skin, like a worn and comfortable uniform: jack of all trades, master of none.

----

“Sero has a crush on his dentist,” says Kaminari.

“Oh, really? Congrats, man!” says Kirishima. “What's his name?”

“Dentists make good money,” says Mina. “Is he cute?”

“Who the fuck cares?” says Bakugou. Then he says nothing else because he's tearing into his burger.

“I don't have a crush on my dentist,” says Sero, not that anyone listens. He tears into his burger too, with more dedication than he affords most burgers. It's just a really good burger. Honestly.

Kaminari elects to answer for him, because Kaminari is a terrible friend. “His name's Skye. He's American. And as for cute--” He digs his phone out of his pocket and opens a picture of Dr. Skye, mid-teeth cleaning. When the hell did he take that? How the hell did he take that?

“I did some reconnaissance,” says Kaminari, guessing at Sero’s question. “My gums bled all over the place but it was totally worth it.”

“Oh my god, I know him!” says Mina, snatching the phone. “He was on all those teeth whitening ads, with the catchy jingle!”

She tilts the screen toward Kirishima, who whistles. “Nice, Sero. He is cute,”

The phone vanishes from both their hands to detonate neatly in Bakugou’s fist.

“Who. The fuck. Cares?” he growls, and Sero has never been more grateful for his jealous streak. Kirishima likes it too, though for different reasons, which he makes known by sprawling backward into Bakugou’s lap and cooing, “Aw, babe, you're so cute when you're jealous!”

Kaminari is not as endeared. “That's the third one this month, Bakugou,” he says, his voice a pitiful mix of mournful and resigned. “At least I've got a warranty this time.”

Mina puts her chin in her hands and bats her eyelashes. It’s exactly as cute as she thinks it is, but Sero has had years to develop immunity. “Have you asked him out yet?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Probably because I don't have a crush on my dentist.” Except how he does. He totally does have a crush on his dentist.

“Dude.” Kaminari stops pouting long enough to level him a flat look. “You get a cleaning every three weeks. Your teeth are fabulous, your wallet is empty, and you have a crush on your dentist. Ask him out.”

There's a very special type of burn in Sero’s chest to hear Kaminari say that. Dry, crackling heat, like an electric fire. He puts his face in his hands and presses the burning back down, away from his eyes.

“I was drunk when I told you all that. It’s more complicated than you think.”

He hears Mina: “How is it complicated? You’re a catch. Just ask him out next time you see him!”

And Kirishima: “Even if he says no--which he shouldn’t, because Mina’s right, you’re a total catch--but even if he does, he’ll appreciate your honesty. Nothing manlier than honesty and respect.”

And Bakugou: “Either way you’ll get to stop wasting your cash like a chump and I’ll get to stop hearing about this bullshit.”

And Kaminari: “So you do like him.”

That’s the one he looks up for. Through his fingers he imagines a strangeness to Kaminari’s expression. A smile, just a little too crooked. Electric-eyed and bright. His normal look, really. It only looks strange for the wearing itself--for the deliberate way he seems to pull it on, less natural, more affected, like a costume and mask. Sero might think Kaminari was displeased with his answer if only he weren’t imagining it all.

“It’s complicated,” Sero says again, because it is. Because he does have a crush on his dentist, sure, but a crush on a near-stranger for the past four months is nothing compared to a crush on one’s best friend. More than a crush. For over a decade.

Kaminari looks like he has something else to say--maybe Sero’s imagining that too--but it's interrupted by a brave gaggle of fans, the first of several to approach. Someone says, “The Ground Zero Agency, here, in our burger joint!” It's one of those days where everyone at the table but Sero is recognized, but hey, that's okay. He's used to it.

Sero finishes his burger.

----

His dentist calls him Jack.

He doesn't know why. He doesn't ask. Jack could mean a lot of things. He's heard that some people use it as a nickname for strangers in America. Or it could be that Dr. Skye honestly forgot his name. That wouldn't be so surprising--it's not like Sero’s very famous, or even particularly recognizable. Nothing like everyone else at the agency. Between plain and forgettable, it's anyone's guess which he's been called more often.

“Hey, Jack!” says Dr. Skye. His smile is something close to blinding, but Sero is self aware enough to know that it’s probably more to do with the man’s quirk than genuine joy at seeing him again. He’s got a ton of other patients and he probably smiles the same way at them.

“Hey there, Doc,” says Sero. One nickname for another. “Fancy meeting you here.”

It's a dumb joke, if it even counts as a joke at all, but Skye snickers the same way he always does. And the way he says, “I missed my favorite patient. How you been?” is the same too. Probably par for the course. Probably Dr. Skye makes everyone feels so special.

But, well. Not everyone makes Sero “Jack of All Trades” Hanta feel special. Just Kaminari and Skye, mostly.

“Fine,” says Sero, even though it hasn't really. He was on a late night talk show a few nights ago with Kaminari, the host of which has it out for him. But Skye doesn't need to know that. “Just fine. You?”

Skye peers into Sero’s mouth and pokes around and hums a little. “Pretty good! Filled in a cavity for Lemillion. Have I told you I'm Lemillion’s dentist?”

Sero’s answer is unintelligible, which is for the better because he doesn't want to tell Skye that he's told him that six times already. Lemillion was actually the one who referred Sero to Skye. Not that Skye knows this, either, and Sero would like to keep it that way.

“But his pearly whites have nothing on yours,” Skye continues. “Which are perfect as always, by the way. Best I've ever seen. Aside from mine, of course.” He likes that joke. Sero doesn't mind because it's objectively true.

On the TV posted in the back corner of the office an ad comes on for a popular late-night talk show. Clips of Kaminari’s face flicker over the screen, and then his own. Sero’s pulse picks up but the TV is muted and Skye has his back to it.

“So, got any plans this weekend?” Skye says, and the ad ends. If Sero is visibly relieved then Skye is too distracted by the inside of his mouth to notice.

“Nuh muh,” says Sero. The ad comes on again. That’s just not fair.

“I don’t either. Usually my schedule is jam packed but it’s nice to have some free time, right?”

Sero makes a croaky, squeaky sort of sound. Skye nods like this is an acceptable human answer, and Sero would be embarrassed if he weren’t kind of freaking out. Something terrible will happen if Skye finds out that he is Cellophane. He knows it. Skye will be disappointed that of all the heroes he works with it’s Sero that has a crush on him, or he’ll make some awful joke about how Jack is an even more fitting nickname than he thought, or he’ll bust out a villain costume and fry Sero in the overstuffed dentist chair. Maybe not that last one so much but he’s panicking and Skye is turning around to nab a paper cup for Sero to spit in and the ad is playing for a third time what the hell is the network that desperate for viewers—

“Do you want to go out with me on Saturday?” someone says. He says. He, Sero Hanta, just said that. Gargled, really.

Skye stops with his body half turned and the ad finally, finally gives way to a commercial for a revolutionary new vacuum cleaner. “Come again?”

“Uh.” Sero reaches past him and plucks the paper cup from his hand. He spits very suavely into it. Except for how that’s a filthy lie because no one on earth can do that. “Um. I was thinking, maybe. Since we’re both free. Maybe we could get dinner on Saturday? Together? Or something?”

He wishes Bakugou were here. Bakugou would put him out of his misery. But to his eternal surprise, Skye does not laugh him out of the office. He does not grimace or lose his temper, which was probably an unreasonable reaction to fear. Instead he says, “Yeah. Yes. That sounds great.”

“Seriously?” Wait. No. That’s. That can’t be right. “That worked? Like. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? That was the least smooth I’ve ever been.”

Skye takes a seat on his work stool and quirks one brow. “Well, maybe not now that you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

Maybe this isn’t as much of a disaster as Sero thought. “Maybe it was a test. Maybe I don’t want to go out with someone who would say yes to such a terrible proposition.”

“That’s too bad. I had the perfect place in mind, I’ve been wanting to take you for a while.”

Sero smiles, big and minty. “Really?”

Skye smiles too, and it is quite literally blinding. Sero doesn’t mind. “Yes.”

Sero has never been so happy to pay twenty two thousand yen. He’s happy. He is. He can’t wait for Saturday.

He can’t think of anything but Kaminari.

----

Listen, it’s not like Sero hasn’t tried to move on. He has. He’s tried. Ten years is longer than he planned to hold a candle for anyone. There was a cute paramedic eight years ago, and a police officer who tried to arrest him because she thought he was a vigilante seven years ago. A fellow hero five years ago. A talented chef three years ago. A museum curator two years ago.

With the exception of the one or two who were trying to use him to get to the rest of the agency, Sero torpedoed those relationships all on his own. He’d like to blame Kaminari, for always showing up at exactly the wrong moment and being charming and dumb and incorrigible and earnest and saying just the right thing to make Sero’s smile real, but when it comes down to it all those people deserved better than what Sero could give them.

He’s tried to move on. He has. That doesn’t mean he was successful.

----

“So you're really giving up on Kaminari?”

Mina is helping him pick an outfit. Her words. Sero would call it lounging on his bed and eating his food and reading his magazines. He never explicitly told her about his feelings for Kaminari, but Mina has always had a way with matters of the heart, and she sniffed it out by their second year at UA. Honestly he's lucky he managed to keep Skye from her for as long as he has.

He pulls out a yellow v-neck and says, “Nothing to give up on. It's not like I ever had a chance.”

“Didn't he kiss you in our third year?” She flips a page in the magazine too casually.

“Yeah, and then he started talking about Jirou.” He thinks about that kiss more often than he'd like to admit. The stuff after that—Jirou’s name in the mouth that had just been on his, Sero’s heart crumbling at the edges—not so much.

“Talk is cheap. A kiss is action.”

“Action from ten years ago. And dating Jirou right after that counts as action too, doesn’t it?”

Mina deigns to give him a flat look over her magazine. “One date, and they never even kissed. Not the same thing.”

“Yeah, well.” He leaves it at that and weighs the v-neck against a dark blue turtleneck. He’s always liked it, but it’s tough to get around his elbows so he doesn’t wear it often. Honestly it would probably look better on Todoroki, which is good because Todoroki isn’t the type to look down his nose at a hand me down gift. “Which one do you think?”

“Hm. Neither.”

“What? That wasn’t one of the options,”

“And you're sure Skye doesn't know you're a hero?”

He gives up on the idea of looking his best with a sigh. “Pretty sure.”

“How does that work? Does he just not care about your life?”

“Sure he does. He asked what I do, I told him that I deal with public safety.”

“And that's it? He never asked you more about it?”

No, he didn’t. Instead he said that he worked in public safety too, plaque can be dangerous, and did Sero know he was Lemillion’s dentist? “What's with the third degree? I thought you were rooting for him. Kaminari is.”

He manages to keep the bitterness from his voice because he isn’t bitter about it. It’s good that Kaminari is in his corner. Sure, it burns a little, but he’s not bitter. Why should he be? It’s for the better.

...He will admit, though, that he’d have preferred Kaminari not know about it at all. Sero hadn't even meant to tell him, is the thing. They were celebrating the interview with tacos and beer, and they were drunk and happy. Leaning on each other in Kaminari’s apartment. Whispering and giggling like teenagers. It was nice. It was so nice. And it could have stayed that way if Sero had just kept his mouth shut, but some stupid self-sabotaging corner of his mind blurted, “So I think I have a crush on my dentist,” and then his mouth blurted it too.

He still doesn't know what he expected to happen. His fool heart was probably hoping Kaminari would get jealous and swoop in for a kiss—they were close enough, could smell the alcohol and Sriracha on each other's breath—but instead Kaminari peeled himself from Sero’s side and said, “Congrats, man. Tell me all about it.”

He doesn’t feel bitter about it. Just stupid. Just sad.

Mina shuts her magazine. She bounces up and throws her arms around Sero’s middle, rests her chin on his shoulder and meets his eyes in the wardrobe mirror. She must be on her tiptoes. “Oh, honey, I just want someone who appreciates you for you.”

He almost says that's why he lied in the first place. It's probably what she thinks anyway. Plenty of heroes are romantically anonymous, trying to make sure they're loved for their personalities instead of their celebrity status. Mina doesn’t need to know that Sero isn’t out to pretend he’s less than Cellophane, professional Jack of All Trades. She doesn’t need to know he’s pretending he’s more.

But he doesn’t like to lie to Mina, so instead he says, “I think he does, really. Thank you, Mina.”

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she’s a good friend, and so she drops it. Plucks both shirts from his hands and pulls out a mossy green button down instead. The cuffs can be unbuttoned and rolled up with ease over his elbows. With one hand he takes the hangar and with the other he pulls Mina close.

“The incomparable Alien Queen, saving the day as always.”

“I hope he deserves you,” she sighs, and squeezes him tight. “The incomparable Cellophane.”

To keep from laughing at the absurdity of that statement Sero drops a kiss on her head and says nothing at all.

----

Sero thinks there are probably better ways to start a date than feeling supremely underdressed.

Skye had said nice but casual, Mina’s outfit seemed perfect. They agreed to meet at the restaurant, a comfortable plan that lets Sero work up his nerve as he makes the short tape swing over. But then he gets there, and Skye is already waiting in a sparkly tux that reminds him of Aoyama but classier, and Sero is struck by a sinking sense of foreboding. They head inside and sure enough there are chandeliers, and suit jackets, and long sweeping gowns. The lighting is low and the balconies are high and there's a beautiful woman crooning into a microphone, with shimmering clones of herself singing backup vocals. The waiters here are the kind that pull out Sero’s seat for him and never smile. Which is made more intimidating by the fact that their table is located on a private balcony, which apparently exists for the sole purpose of overlooking all the extravagance and basking in the knowledge that it's above even that.

Underdressed is. A word. For how he's feeling.

The waiter—is he a waiter? He looks more official than that, white suit instead of black, greeted Skye with groveling familiarity—starts reciting the wines without use of a menu and Sero tries to be positive. There are worse ways to start a date, too. Sure it's a little rich for his blood, but it's not like Skye looks embarrassed to be seen with him. In fact he'd smiled when they met, and told him he looked great. Never mind that no one else is wearing their sleeves rolled up, and his elbows feel clunkier than ever.

“So what do you think?” Skye is watching him expectantly. The maybe-not-a-waiter is watching him expectantly too. Sero can't remember any of the wines because he's pretty sure they were all in French (Aoyama would love it here, really) so he shrugs and says, “They all sound great. Why don't you pick?”

He has the feeling this was the right decision because Skye turns and starts making snappy orders in French that he definitely had prepared. He comes here a lot, is what this says. He's trying to impress.

Once the waiter(?) trots away Skye leans conspiratorially across the table. “It usually takes three months to get a reservation here, but I whiten the manager’s teeth.” The manager, of course, that's who he was. Some appetizers land on the table, evidently on the house. Skye raises his eyebrows and spreads out his hands. “Nice, right?”

Sero has no idea what the appetizer is. It's gray and goopy with one sprig of mint or maybe cilantro on top and it's probably the most expensive bite he's ever going to have in his life. Should that make it more appetizing? Nice right, Skye had said, and Sero has the opportunity to be honest, to lie, or to deflect with a joke.

“Yeah, it's nice, but I think you could have done better. I mean, they didn't even chew my food and feed me like a baby bird.”

Skye laughs, bright and genuine, head thrown back, and relief floods Sero’s insides. He remembers: Skye likes him. Really likes him. And he likes Skye. This is doable. This can work.

And it does, for a while. Sero tells heroic anecdotes (with some of the more heroic details fudged). “So the power’s out, and we need to see in order to… clean up the mess, right? My coworker’s static shock quirk can light things up for a second, but not enough. So he decides the best way, the only way to get the power going is to stick his tongue in an outlet.”

More or less how it happened. Static shock is close enough to electricity and the mess they were cleaning up was actually a villain that thrived in pitch darkness. The generated light from Bakugou and Kaminari’s quirks were enough to hold him back but not enough to beat him, so Kaminari went for it. Overloaded the power for the whole block. Put him in the hospital for two days and completely fried his tongue for two weeks. Later he slurred to Sero that it was worth it because he’d always wanted to do that.

To counter, Skye tells funny stories that might blur the line of patient confidentiality. “I took out Present Mic’s wisdom teeth a few years ago. Couldn’t hear for week after that,” he says, and Sero snorts on his wine. That sounds about right.

Over the main course they debate what materials Skye can bite through. Literally anything, according to Skye, and Sero is halfway to convincing Skye to bite through a fork when someone fancy and expensive looking comes over to rub elbows. With Skye, specifically. She ignores Sero. Which is fine, because it allows Sero to focus on his meal, and what he’s going to do after he finishes these seriously tiny portions. There’s no way he won’t still be hungry. Skye makes him a valiant but ultimately futile effort to include him in the conversation. Hey, it’s the thought that counts.

“I'm surprised she didn’t ask for your autograph,” Skye says, once the woman has given him her card and sauntered away. Sero laughs.

“One of the perks of dating me: you definitely don't have to worry about paparazzi.” He stops laughing. Blinks. “Wait, you know I'm a hero?”

Skye gives him a look that lands squarely between incredulous and amused. “Of course I do. You're kind of a celebrity.”

“Kind of,” Sero emphasizes, but he feels like he's glowing, like a secondary quirk has started up just behind his sternum. Skye knows. He’s known all along and he still wants to be with him. Skye warms too, maybe to see that his comment went over so well, and he continues.

“You're too modest. You're one of the top twenty heroes, and a member of the number one agency in the country. Honestly, I'm a little starstruck by you. Cellophane, Taping Hero, Jack of All Trades. Why do you think I call you Jack?”

That sweet, glowing warmth snuffs out.

“Ah, right,” Sero says. “Right. Thank you,”

Sero thinks of Kaminari. You hate it when they call you that, he'd said on the night of the talk show.

“And you do have the best smile,” Skye continues, oblivious. He winks. “After me, of course.”

“Thank you,” Sero says again. Kaminari once told him he had the best smile. No after me or except for. He was drunk and his cheeks were pink and his hands were sweaty. No matter how many times Sero told himself afterward that it was just sloppy drunken affection, he was never able to convince himself that Kaminari had been anything but sincere.

Sero tries his best to stay present through the rest of the meal, but it's hard. Now that Kaminari has smiled against the back of his eyelids it's more difficult to keep him out. When the waitstaff sweeps back in to check on them and refill their glasses, silent and efficient to the point of being cold, Sero thinks again of how very much he feels out of place. The difference is that now he imagines where Kaminari would have taken him. A local taco place, probably. Crowded and a little too loud. Casual, comfortable, warm.

Dinner winds down. They talk about other things. Sero sees some flaws in Skye’s personality now. Some stains in the white of his teeth. (Metaphorically. He doesn't think Skye’s teeth actually can stain.) He's a little bit arrogant, a little bit self-centered. He likes to flaunt his money. But these are just the natural flaws that come with being human--he's still kind, still funny and charming, and Sero is very suddenly, very starkly aware that he could fall in love with him. He's just not sure if he wants to.

They have coffee, share a dessert. If Sero starts to pull away, Skye doesn't seem to notice. When they leave the manager comes by to see them off and Skye leaves a generous tip. They walk to Skye’s house, which is bigger and fancier than Sero thought Tokyo had room for, and on the doorstep Skye kisses him.

There are sparks. He won't lie about that. The problem is that sparks only make him think of one person.

“Ah,” says Skye, and steps away. Sero opens his eyes.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing from my end.” Skye watches him. He takes another step back. “There's someone else, huh?”

What? “What? That's not--” What? “I don't--”

Skye lets him stutter, but Sero realizes as he does that his heart has been on his sleeve for the past few minutes--maybe for longer--and it's too late to tuck it away now. He falters, then stops. They stand there for a few seconds, both watching the ground.

“I'm sorry,” he says, finally. “I really like you, Skye, I just…”

“You seemed a little distant near the end there. Unfinished business with someone?” Sero hesitates, then nods. “Is it Chargebolt?”

Sero reels. Metaphorically, mostly, but maybe a little bit literally. He opens his mouth but Skye raises a hand, which is good, because he has no idea what he would have said.

“You don't have to answer that. It's just--I told you I've seen you on TV, you're kind of famous, and sometimes the way you look at him--” He shakes his head. “Sorry. It's not really my place.”

“You're really great, Skye,” Sero says, because he feels like garbage and he doesn't think apologizing again will help either of them. “I mean really, really great. I wouldn't have come out tonight if I didn't think so. You… you deserve someone just as great as you, who can appreciate you for how great you are.”

“Yeah. Sounds great.” Skye smiles, though it seems somewhat dampened. He opens the door and steps backward through it into a rectangle of light. “Hey, I hope you end up happy, Jack. You deserve someone great too. Don't forget to floss,”

It's such an unexpected parting shot that Sero can't help but laugh, and Skye laughs too, and the door closes, and Sero is still chuckling but really he just wants to call Kaminari and cry. He thinks about taping his way home, and decides to walk instead. He can’t imagine feeling more awful than he does in this moment.

Then the alert comes in.

----

And he isn't. He knows he isn't. He's a solid pretty good at everything, which is usually enough. He's learned how to use Pretty Good at Everything to his advantage; he works at the top hero agency in the country (though depending on the day, the heroes in Midoriya’s agency beat them out) despite the fact that his individual stats are hands down the least impressive. But he's an excellent support hero, the best there is at backing up the star. He excels as a professional sidekick—the one thing he's best at. Most of the time he can think that without even a little bitterness. A brand's a brand, and he's more than lucky to have cultivated one at all.

This is what happened the night of the talk show:

It's not the first time he's been on this program. It's not even the second or third time. The showrunners have a good rapport with the Ground Zero Agency, so at least one member ends up in these very comfy interview chairs every few months. Even so, he can't bring himself to be surprised when the host asks him to introduce himself. “With us today we have pro heroes Chargebolt and…”

She pauses, tips her head. It's jealousy, he's pretty sure. Her quirk is kind of like his--prehensile hair that can whip out and grab things, she uses it to hold microphones for her guests--and she thinks she could do a better job at the Ground Zero Agency. She’s practically told him as much, though she was delirious with adrenaline and smoke at the time. Those were extenuating circumstances, and awkward as hell, just like this is shaping up to be. Oh well. He's good at smiling through awkward situations.

“Cellophane, the taping hero,” he says, to fill her expectant silence. He winks at the audience, shoots two goofy finger guns.

“Yes, and Cellophane.” Her voice flattens on his name. The applause reflects it, dialing down from enthusiastic to polite. But Kaminari whistles for him, which is silly and gratifying and makes Sero’s smile feel a little more real.

The host raises her eyebrows over her glasses. “And your quirk is…tape?”

“That's right.”

“I see. Ladies and gentlemen, our local Jack of All Trades...”

Sero knows very suddenly that she's going to finish the phrase. He can already feel the eyes on him, the heavy beat of silence, the awkward little laugh bubbling in the back of his throat he'll use to fill it. It's going to be awful. He prepares himself to smile through it.

“Most valuable member of the team, right here,” says Kaminari, and the host is distracted.

“Is he?” She sounds dubious. Sero can understand that. Most valuable? He's valuable, sure, but most?

“Oh, far and away. He's the most versatile, the most rational. We'd be lost without him. But you know that already, huh? Remember that time he rescued you from that fire in the studio?”

A murmur ripples through the crowd. The host's face has gone startlingly pale. This was the incident that won the showrunners’ favor. It was also the incident that revealed the host’s resentment toward Sero. She'd asked them not to talk about it.

“You're selling yourself short, Chargebolt,” she says, evading his question all together. Her smile is tight and thin, lips barely moving. Kaminari’s smile dims. His eyes strike like flint in the light.

“I'm really not. I'm just showing Cellophane the respect he deserves.”

The host stares. Sero stares. Just like that Kaminari’s smile is back, a thousand watts beaming right at the audience.

“So let's show him some respect, huh?”

He starts clapping. The audience joins in, and so does the host, grudgingly. Sero is breathless with an emotion he can't name.

After the show is over and the autographs are signed and the host huffs past them, Sero catches Kaminari’s elbow. “Dude, what was all that?”

“I know, I know, it was petty. Aw man, Bakugou’s going to rip me a new one. Or maybe he’ll say it was about time.”

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have done that,”

They exit the stage, leave the cameras and the oppressive heat of lights behind them. It takes Sero a moment to adjust but even in silhouette he can see the edge to Kaminari’s movements. The anxious flickering of his hands. Blue sparks at his fingertips. Agitation as he whips off the accessories of his costume, his glasses, his earpiece.

“I know, but she always does this, treats you like crap--”

“It's fine--”

“No, it's not fine. You hate it when they call you that.”

Sero stops walking. They're steps away from the changing room. Behind that door are their civilian clothes and their normal lives, and Kaminari’s hand is on the doorknob when he realizes that Sero is not with him. He turns. His face softens. His hand finds Sero’s hand, and for once he doesn't say a single thing as he opens the door and leads Sero through it.

----

The villain was robbing a bank with two accomplices. Technically Sero isn’t on call, but he’s made it a habit to tape his costume to an alley wall or rooftop when he’s out just in case. This was one of those cases--despite detouring back to the restaurant for his costume he’s still the first one on the scene by a long shot. Everyone else is busy or off duty or too far. Sometimes this happens. Sero’s dealt with worse.

Catching the first two was easy enough. There was a man with rubber limbs and another with mouths all over his body, neither of whom struck Sero as the brains of the operation. The last villain nearly got away in the chaos of the evacuation, but Sero caught up with her in the park across the street, trying to flee with a duffel bag full of money. She didn’t seem particularly unhappy that he found her.

She calls herself Amp, though her quirk seems to bear no similarity to Jirou’s. Not that Sero has a clear picture on what that quirk is. He's been holding her off on his own for fifteen minutes now, most of which has entailed them dancing around each other. Every time he tries to restrain her she fists her hands in his tape and a strange tingling sensation shivers up to him. He releases before the tingling turns into something worse, which he's certain it will, and then they’re back to square one.

“Remind me of your name, hero,” she says, bouncing back from a lunge. She unwinds another loose strip of tape from her wrists. “I told you mine, it's only fair.”

“Well, my mom told me not to talk to strangers, but since I really care about playing fair with villains--”

“No wait, don't tell me!” There's something wild in her eyes that makes him uneasy. They've been hopping around nonstop and she's barely winded. “I recognize you. Barely. Has anyone told you you're kind of plain? Don't worry, I'll get it,”

“Aw, you'll hurt my feelings.” He shoots low, yanks her ankles out from under her. Before she can get a hand in his tape he's released it, tries to pin her arms to her sides while she's freeing her legs--

Except she's not distracted. She catches the next string and tries to pull him off balance--pins and needles shoot up his arm, he detatches the tape--she springs for him as soon as she's loose, a hand reaching through his visor--

He tapes a lamppost and rips himself away. The air is sharp and too cold, on his face, in his lungs. Amp is laughing, tossing his helmet from hand to hand.

“I remember now!” she says. “You're from Ground Zero’s agency. You're not bad, but you're not great. Definitely not in the top ten. What do they call you again? Jack of all trades?”

“Got it in one.” Sero stands on the lamppost and he grins, and he catches his breath, and he considers his options. Not many. Kaminari and Mina are off duty. They might get an emergency alert, or see it on the news, but it’ll be a while. On the other hand Kirishima and Bakugou are busy with a villain across the city, though last he saw the HUD in his visor said they were on their way. Other heroes will assume they’ve got it handled, so no help there, but Red Riot and Ground Zero should be here any minute now. He should be relieved.

“There's more than that though, isn't there?” Amp taps her chin with one finger. Her smile is cruel. “Master of none, I think that's it. Figures I'd get the loser of the agency.”

“Pretty embarrassing that a loser’s kept you here for so long, huh?”

Her eyes widen, her smile fixes on her face. She has an ego, he realizes, an exploitable one. He hops down and this time she leaps for him with less grace; he doesn’t manage to catch her as she stumbles past him but he snags the duffel bag. She cries out as he winds it up and sticks it to the top of the lamppost, out of her reach.

“You’re going to regret that,” she says. Her grin promises that much, and he has a sinking feeling she might be right, but he matches her smile tooth for tooth.

“That’s pretty unoriginal. I’m disappointed.”

“Fine. Then how about—”

Sero is spared whatever unsavory threat she was about to make by the explosive entrance of Bakugou and Kirishima. They barely look winded from their own fight; Sero is filled with relief and dread at the sight of them.

“Good job holding her on your own, Cellophane,” Kirishima says, and Bakugou says, “You had twenty minutes, Soy Sauce, why the fuck isn’t she down yet?”

Sero fills them in. “She calls herself Amp. I don't know what her quirk is but I think she needs direct touch to activate it.”

“Ooh, the number five hero and the number one hero, both here for little old me. How flattering!” Amp’s eyes flash. “Or was it number two today? I can never tell if you or Deku are on top.”

Bakugou growls, but Kirishima’s arm across his chest bars him from getting too close.

“Surrender,” Kirishima says. “You can't beat all three of us. Don't make this hard on yourself.”

“Hard on yourself, ha! That's a good one, Hardening Hero. I always liked you.” She winks. Bakugou growls louder. “I like you so much, in fact, that I'll listen to you. There's no way I can take on two top ten heroes.” A sharp little barb, but Sero’s used to the insult. “Take me in. I'll go peacefully.”

She pulls a pair of gloves from her pocket. Puts them on, holds out her hands, palms up.

The heroes share a few searching, suspicious looks; Amp waits patiently. Bakugou nods once in Sero’s direction, but when he lifts his arms and steps toward her--

“I was talking to Red Riot,” Amp snaps. Her hands are bare and facing him--he didn't even see her whip the gloves off. “Back off, Jack. I go peacefully with him or no deal.”

“She's bluffing and she's shitty at it,” says Bakugou. “Let's just knock her out and drag her ass to jail.”

She throws one hand in his direction. “That means you too, Number Two. It's Red Riot or I make your life hell and involve as many bystanders as possible.”

Bakugou looks more than willing to risk it, but Kirishima’s hand stops him again. Sero doesn't hear what he whispers but he can tell Bakugou doesn't like it. Still, he lowers his sparking hands to his sides, and Kirishima gives his shoulder a squeeze. He moves forward.

“Gloves on, Amp. Palms together, fingers folded.” To Sero he says, “Cellophane, some tape?”

Sero frowns between them--Amp’s smirk and Bakugou’s scowl and Kirishima’s private, reassuring smile. He doesn’t feel reassured. He’s not comfortable with this at all. He was fighting her for nearly half an hour and the sudden hairpin turn to docile screams trap. But he trusts Kirishima, and he trusts Bakugou who also trusts Kirishima, and he’s not a top ten hero like either of them, is he? So whose judgment matters more?

He slings Kirishima a long string of tape, who takes it and promptly winds it around Amp’s hands. She’s still smiling. Why won’t she stop smiling? Bakugou’s whole body is still with violent, uncut tension. Kirishima is tying off the tape, and it’s taking him too long, too long, Sero’s insides rattle when she leans forward to whisper something in his ear--

Bite, not whisper.

Kirishima screams, and he hardens, and he screams, and he goes Unbreakable, and he screams, and he--he hardens further, bulks out in geode fractals as he screams and screams and screams--

He's not the only one screaming. “I'll kill you!”

“Ground Zero, don’t--!”

It’s too late. Kirishima’s jagged body slices through the tape and gloves, and by then Bakugou has already exploded into Amp’s range. He's roaring, and she's laughing, and they're reaching for each other. Sero is reaching for them too, but he's not fast enough. He watches it happen in slow motion: Amp’s fingers brush Bakugou’s elbow, Bakugou’s hand detonates, Sero’s tape wraps around their waists, in that order. Bakugou’s hand sails past her ear and the explosion goes off behind her head and it grows, and grows, and grows until it engulfs the whole bank. Sero doesn’t have time to feel horror because the shockwave sends Bakugou and Amp flying. His arms burn to keep up with them, but just as he starts to reel them back in, the strange zing travels through the tape and shivers up all the bones in his right arm. He detatches from her before whatever happened to his teammates can happen to him. Amp hits the ground and lands in a roll, tape puddling around her ankles. Bakugou is a dead weight in Sero’s arms, the force of the explosion and the energy it zapped from him rendering him unconscious. Sero risks a glance over his shoulder: Kirishima is out too, blown back into another building, still monstrous.

But they’re both alive. That’s what Sero focuses on as Amp flashes bloody teeth in a ragged mouth. Hot fear fills up the hollow of his stomach, but they’re alive, and that’s all that matters.

“Looks like it’s just us again,” he says, biding time. The heat of the burning building buffets him, simmers away in his belly. He slings Bakugou a safe distance away; she tracks the motion with her eyes but doesn’t go after him. Good.

“Oh, yippee, just me and Mr. Average.” She rolls her eyes, but her smile turns indulgent. “Honestly, though, I was most impressed with you. Red Riot and Ground Zero were kind of a let down, huh?”

She’s trying to bait him, but he doesn’t have the luxury of being reckless right now. No one is coming to his rescue because no one has reason to believe all three of them couldn’t handle one bank robber. If he’s lucky someone will check out the explosion, but he can’t rely on that. For now it’s just him. Sero, Cellophane, Jack. Master of none.

He keeps his body firmly planted between her and his friends and grins as though his knees aren’t shaking.

“You are a brave one,” she says, sweetly. “For someone so much lower on the totem pole. After what I did to them, what do you think I can do to you?”

“I'll take my chances,” he says, and takes care to keep his tone light and dismissive. Without his helmet she can see all the teeth in his broad smile. “I mean, none of us have ever heard of you. So if I'm an average hero, relatively unknown, then I guess we make a good match.”

That does the trick: she barrels at him, full tilt. Reckless. Her focus is tunneled enough that when she deflects the tape going for her face, she doesn’t see the string going for her ankles. The tape only catches one foot but she’s down, winded and bloody. Both hands on the ground to steady her. This is his chance—if he can tape her hands up before she gets her bearings, he wins. He skids a few steps closer, aims and fires, with both arms.

They are a good match, really. He got her for being reckless. She gets him for being too eager.

Turns out she’s not very winded at all—bloody and wild-eyed, but not down for the count by any means. The tape circles her wrists but she twists one hand in it and tugs, sharply, stronger than he gave her credit for. Stupid. Amateur. He detaches too late. The momentum of her pull carries him through, drags him until they’re on their knees before one another. She snarls a hand in his hair and then—

Then Sero is unraveling. Unwinding. Unbecoming, entirely.

It's like his whole body wakes up and goes into overdrive. Like she just reached inside his chest and cranked some dial up to a thousand and blew a fuse, the machine in him smoking and spitting sparks and overheating and dying, dying, dying. Tape shoots from his arms until they burn, until his whole body burns, until he’s crying and vomiting and there’s nothing left to give. Then it keeps coming anyway.

He doesn’t know how long he’s suspended there, unspooling. His tape is everywhere, piled high around him, boxing him in. All he wants to do fall. Curl up on the floor in the billowing white nest of himself before there’s nothing left. She doesn’t let him--she’s standing now and her grip on his hair is the only thing holding him up. Sero gags, and then he chokes. For one horrific, blinding moment he knows that this is how he's going to die: on his knees, asphyxiating on his own bile, completely undone.

A weak jolt of electricity steals into his body, but for Amp it must be stronger. She yelps and lets go of his hair; he crumples in a heap of tape and bones. On the ground he convulses. He doesn't even have the energy to detatch.

“Cellophane!”

He knows that voice. He opens his eyes without realizing he closed them and the world is sideways now: Sero stares from a distant place at the two figures fast approaching, small but getting bigger. Mina, gliding across the rooftops with Kaminari held tight to her hip. He zaps them between buildings, and even from this distance Sero can read the horror on his face.

No. No, anyone but him. An amplification of Kaminari’s quirk--it would kill him and everyone in a five block radius. Either Amp doesn’t know or doesn’t care, because she’s running straight for him. Kaminari’s going to die. Mina’s going to die. Kirishima and Bakugou and all the civilians are going to die.

He twitches. The streamers of tape still attached to his body rustle just enough to catch the toe of Amp’s boot.

She goes down hard, sprawling, end over end and when she comes back up the blood on her face is bright and angry in the light of the fire. It's the first time he's seen her without a smile. That's a small victory on its own.

“You.” She growls it as he pushes himself to standing. It takes him three tries. “You just don't know when to quit, do you?”

That’s something he has going for him, he supposes. He may not be as determined as Midoriya, or as passionate as Bakugou, but he’s a hero. He’ll persevere all the same.

“You're not in the top ten,” she snarls. “You're barely even in the top twenty. Who do you think you are?”

“I'm Cellophane,” he rasps. “Jack of all trades and the hero who just beat you.”

He snaps all the tape tight tight tight, just once, and Amp shrieks as the avalanche buries her and pins her down. Her quirk is still in effect, Sero knows because tape keeps ribboning out of him like an open faucet, but at least he can't feel it. He can't really feel anything. And then the world is sideways again, because apparently he collapsed at some point when he wasn’t paying attention. From an echoey, greyscale place he watches smoke plume into the sky. Between one blink and the next Kaminari is there. His eyes are big and bright and amber in the glow of the fire, the only spot of color. He's holding Sero’s face in his hands. It might be romantic in a different context.

“Detatch your tape,” Kaminari says again--is it again? How many times has he said it? “Cellophane--Sero, please, you have to--”

“Move,” Mina shoulders him out of the way. Maybe she melts through the tape or maybe she doesn't. He can't tell. He can't tell much of anything anymore. The world winks out, and Sero thinks, finally.

----

Of course it’s disorienting at first, but it doesn’t take too long for Sero to piece together that he’s in a hospital. He’s been in enough of them to know. Everything hurts, but in a drug-dulled kind of way, so it could probably be worse. Tubes and needles everywhere. There’s a blob of yellow at his bedside, and a fuzzy warmth in his hand. He blinks. Kaminari. Kaminari, playing with his fingers. He can’t really feel it, but it does stupid things to his heart to see. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“Hey, dummy,” Kaminari says. His smile looks wobbly and his eyes look damp. Not a dream, but the emotion in Kaminari’s face is probably just Sero’s imagination. “We thought we lost you for a minute there. How are you feeling?”

Sero tries to ask how the others are, Kirishima and Bakugou and Mina, and did they catch Amp, and did they put out the fire, and are the civilians safe, but his throat is too dry and cracked from disuse. Kaminari seems to understand his feeble wheezing anyway, because the wobbly look turns exasperated.

“They’re fine, everyone’s fine. They're grabbing lunch now, but they all want to see you. Can you worry about yourself for once?”

Sero tries for a smile; that feels cracked too. Kaminari watches and something in his face turns fragile, or so it seems to Sero, but he squeezes Sero’s hand and smiles back.

Kaminari fills Sero in on the details: they did catch Amp, Sero’s been out for roughly two days, Bakugou and Kirishima woke up yesterday. Bakugou was furious that an amateur villain got the better of him. The flowers on the side table are a get well gift sent from the office of Dr. Skye, with a toothbrush and floss bundle included. They’re pretty flowers, yellow daubs of cheer in the otherwise drab white room. Kaminari frowns at them, but it's hard to tell what for. “Hey, I’m sorry if this thing with Amp ruined your date, man. At least it looks like he’s still into you. Maybe he’s a keeper.”

“It’s funny that you think I need Amp to ruin my love life,” Sero says. He blinks at the shape his words take in his ear; he imagines an animate cheese grater would sound the same. “Nah, I ruined it all by myself. He just sent those because he’s a nice guy.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Kaminari sounds as though he isn’t sure what else to say. Sero sighs, and remembers that he’s still very tired.

“Don’t be. It was my fault. He realized that I was still hung up on someone else.”

Kaminari’s eyes cut quick, lightning paths to him. Huh. He may have given too much away. Drugs might be stronger than he thought.

“Then,” Kaminari says, and hesitates, a complicated twist of emotions passing over his features. “Then I guess I’m not sorry.”

The moment becomes charged, suddenly. The air between them. Sero licks his lips.

“Thanks for being here,” he says. It's mostly air. Kaminari’s laugh is air too, airy and wet and surprised.

“Of course I'm here. Can't let my best friend wake up alone, can I?”

“Kirishima’s your best friend.” Oh. Oh no. Did he say that out loud? He didn't mean to say that out loud.

Kaminari’s whole body goes kind of slack, and then it tightens up again. He looks annoyed, but not before he looks very, very sad.

“You're an idiot,” he says, and Sero splutters.

“Wh--that's rich, coming from you!”

“Yeah, it is. Is that what this is about? Is that what this is all about? We're twenty seven years old, how was this not made abundantly clear in high school? Kirishima is my best friend, yeah. And so is Bakugou and so is Mina and so is Jirou. And so are you, dumbass.”

Sero blinks, once, sluggishly. “Huh?”

“Sero.” Kaminari looks right at him. The lighting isn’t as romantic as a fancy restaurant or a burning bank but his eyes are still beautiful, and damp and earnest, though Sero is imagining those last two, he has to be. “You’re incredible. We’re all strong on our own but the only reason our agency is the best is because of you, you know that, right? Didn’t I say that? You glue us all together.”

Oh. Oh, shit, Sero isn’t imagining it because if Kaminari weren’t being so earnest he would totally have said tape instead of glue. That can’t be. Can it?

“Stop,” he says.

“And it’s more than that. You’re funny, and you’re nice, and you’re always smiling, even when it’s for everyone else’s sake and not your own. You’re my best friend, Sero, you’re more than that, you’re--”

“Stop.”

Sero’s limbs are still fuzzy-numb but he presses his hands over Kaminari’s mouth as best he can. He ends up sort of mashing his hand over Kaminari’s whole face instead. Pretty good, he thinks. Pretty good at everything. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not that great.” He clears his throat a time or three. “I'm no Ground Zero or Deku. I’m no Red Riot or Alien Queen.”

“I don’t want you to be any of them,” Kaminari says. Sero can feel his lips moving against his fingers and it’s killing him. “You’re perfect just being Sero.”

“Thank you. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

His hand flops back to the bed, and Kaminari—he looks surprised. Then he looks confused. Then he looks suspicious. Then he looks angrily suspicious.

“Do you,” he starts, narrows his eyes and starts again, “Do you not know how I feel about you?”

Sero considers giving up on trying to understand what’s happening. He shrugs a little helplessly. “Well, you just said I was your best friend, which is a hell of a surprise. Good kind, though.” Kaminari does not stop looking angrily suspicious. In fact it looks like anger might be winning out. “I mean. I mean, I think it’s the good kind? Are you okay?”

“Before this. Before all this—ten years ago. You didn’t know how I felt ten years ago?”

“Um. You definitely thought of me as a good friend. Just a friend.” Oh, huh. He hadn’t meant to put that stress on the just. Definitely stronger drugs than he thought, oh.

“Just a—” Suddenly the anger peaks. Sero’s sheets crackle with static and the lights and medical screens flicker. It gives out into something else before sparks start flying. Kaminari presses his forehead to Sero’s knuckles. He looks a little like he's praying. “Do you remember what happened after I kissed you ten years ago?”

Sero blinks once. He blinks a lot. “You started talking about Jirou.”

“No, you started talking about Jirou.”

“What?” says Sero, because what the fuck? “No. No, you kissed me and then you said that you wanted to ask out Jirou and you asked my advice and I said go for it.”

Kaminari sighs with his whole body. He turns his head to meet Sero’s eyes. His voice is patient and exasperated. “No. I kissed you, and then you got this dumb frozen look that you have now, and then you told me you’d had the bright idea that I should ask out Jirou. You said we’d make a good couple. We got along so well. You were rooting for us.”

Sero stares at him. Kaminari’s cheek on the flat of Sero’s hand, an annoyed twist to his mouth. His fringe in danger of falling into his eyes. He's beautiful. It hurts to look at him.

“Oh my god,” says Sero. “I said you should ask out Jirou.”

Kaminari explodes. So does one lightbulb. “You said I should ask out Jirou! The girl who's been in love with YaoMomo since our first year! After I kissed you!”

“Oh my god. I’m an idiot.” The whole world is flipping upside down and Sero has to fist the bed sheets to keep from tumbling ass over teakettle. He forgot that. How did he forget that? “Well—well, why did you do it, then?”

He gets a withering look for that, though Kaminari’s cheeks do seem to pinken a little. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t panic after you bear your soul to a guy and he tells you to date someone else?”

Okay, that’s grounding. Good to know Kaminari is still a lovable dummy. Sero relaxes by degrees. “You didn’t have to actually go on a date with her, though.”

“I panicked. You told me to so I said I would and I didn’t know where to go from there. Jirou is a good friend and she indulged me. And you lost the right to make fun of me when you stomped all over my heart and then forgot about it! I’ve been pining like a sap for ten fucking years, man, I thought you just pitied me!”

Kaminari throws himself across the bed, face down; Sero knows he should feel bad for being the architect of his own romantic angst, and he knows he should feel worse for reinforcing a decade long misunderstanding, and he does, and he will, but Kaminari is too melodramatic to play a very convincing injured party. Sero pets his hair, slides his fingers into it, and Kaminari lets him. It’s kind of tacky with sweat and old gel—he’s been here for a long time. Probably hasn’t even showered, which is gross. Sero loves him so desperately it hurts.

“I've liked you since I was fifteen,” Sero says. “You're my favorite person.”

“I like you a lot, Sero,” Kaminari says to the covers. His voice is muffled, but also it’s quiet, and small. “A lot a lot. Can I kiss you and you not tell me to kiss someone else this time?”

“Wow,” says Sero, because he can’t think of anything else to say. Kaminari peeks up at him; whatever he sees makes him look as vulnerable as Sero feels and then he’s—wow. Wow.

The EKG machine, previously silent and satisfied with Sero’s resting heart rate, starts to chirp in distress. Sero barely hears it. By the time a nurse bustles in the machine is wailing and Kaminari has Sero pressed into the mattress with his full weight, tongue in his mouth, hands in his hair, and Sero thinks, deliriously, helplessly, that if he died like this he could only be so lucky.

----

Three days after being discharged from the hospital and the guilt finally hits him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s holding a button up shirt of dabbing Santas that Kaminari got him for Christmas five years ago. “I think I’m—I get kind of stupid, when it comes to you. It’s hard to imagine that you could really—for me—it’s just. It’s just that you deserve the best.”

Kaminari snorts a little. He plucks the shirt from Sero’s hands and folds it. “You are an idiot.”

Okay, he doesn’t really fold it. He mostly crumples it into a ball and stuffs it in the duffel bag next to the clothes Sero has actually folded. There are two more duffels just like this already waiting by the door. (He should probably invest in a real suitcase.) The picture frames and wall scrolls and floor lamps are in the car. They’ve already moved the big furniture. The place that was his home is disconcertingly bare, suddenly. Bigger and lonelier than it's ever been.

Kaminari singsongs, “Do you really think I’d accept anything less than the best?” and just like that any lingering traces of wistful nostalgia are whisked away.

Now it’s Sero’s turn to snort. “You would accept anything on two legs.”

“Lies and slander. I am a dignified superhero. Very respectable.”

Sero laughs. Guffaws. Hoots, because that’s hysterical. “You, respectable!”

“Shut up, man, I am! I have very high standards.” Kaminari starts to chuck socks at him.

“High standards!”

Once they’re done here they’ll transport the suitcases to Kaminari’s apartment, and then they’ll head for work. Grab some beers with the rest of the agency after that and share the big news. (Mina already knows, because she always knows these things.) Then they’ll go home, together. To their life: goofy posters and classic Japanese wall art. Take out boxes and healthy fruits and vegetables. Clothes folded and crumpled and side by side.

Kaminari abandons balled up clothing projectiles in favor of a direct attack. His hands are staticky and wedged in Sero’s sides and his armpits, but Sero has the advantage of long and wiggly fingers and he’s not about to lose so easily. They roll around. They spill the suitcase. Kaminari kisses him, which isn’t fair at all, and he says, “I have high standards. The highest standards. I only accept the absolute best. Get it?”

He’s not laughing anymore. Sero touches his face and his eyes flutter shut.

“I get it. Hey. I get it, it’s okay.”

“It’s such a—it’s so stupid, jack of all trades, you’re so much more, I wish I could just—”

“If we ever get invited back for another interview, you can rub our relationship in her face. How’s that sound?”

Kaminari’s eyes pop open. He clutches Sero’s hand on his cheek and static dances all over his skin. It feels sweet. That’s probably just in his head but he doesn’t care.

“Oh my god yes. I love you, yes, let’s do it. We’ll be so lovey dovey we’ll knock Kirishima and Bakugou right out of third place on JP’s Best Heroic Couple Billboard.”

“Hell, let's go for first. Eat your heart out, Midoriya.”

It seems this renders Kaminari speechless, because then he’s kissing him again. Sero can’t complain. For the first time in a long time he’s not satisfied with being average, not about this. He wants more. He is more.

Jack of all trades. Ha. Eat your heart out, Jack.

----

[the dabbing santa shirt exists and it’s beautiful. i hope and pray that no one figures out the inspiration for skye]

#boku no hero academia #bnha fic #Sero Hanta #kaminari denki #kamisero #my hero academia #bakusquad #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #mina ashido #listen my son just deserves happiness and love

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yourmomswallet · 6 years ago

Text

Call Girl

I’m reuploading all my stuff. I haven’t written fanfiction in about 6 years, give or take, so Kiryu might be OOC. Not beta read. Here’s my AO3 in case you’d rather read there. Enjoy!

The afternoon sun was blocked out by the shadows of the many buildings of the block, leading wandering eyes to the flashing, marque like lights of Teltel Boys Club. Information on posters surrounded the entrance, listing the building’s phone number and prices. Kiryu walked up the street, determined to get in the telephone club as soon as possible. The pedestrians of Senryo Ave. strolled through past Kiryu, paying no attention to his presence in the seedy location. Triggering the automatic double doors and walking in, the clerk behind the counter greets him warmly.

“Welcome to Teltel Boys Club! Brighten up your day chatting with fun young ladies!” The clerk bows slightly and continues speaking. “We have several deals tailored to your needs!”

The charts behind the clerk are the same as the ones posted on the windows, with the longest course being 3 000 yen and the shortest 1 000 yen, simple chump change for what Kiryu makes.

“The longest course, please,” Kiryu politely orders whilst avoiding eye contact with the man. The clerk still has a friendly smile upon his face as Kiryu orders and tells him how much he owes. His rough hands pull out his wallet and slide the money on the counter, over to the clerk. As Kiryu slips the wallet back into his back pocket, the clerk places the money into the cash register and looks back up to him.

“I’ll show you to your booth. Fingers crossed you meet someone special!” cheers the clerk.

The two men walk into the cramped hallway to a door with a three on it. As they pass by the other booths, Kiryu can hear the many different voices, further fueling his nervousness. The clerk opens the door for Kiryu and wishes him luck. He thanks him and walks into the room. Closing the door, Kiryu takes a deep breath and pulls out the chair to sit down in the small booth. He looks around the wooden table, noticing the paper pad and pencil, as well as an ashtray and, surprisingly, a tissue box.

“... Let’s do this!” Kiryu tries to encourage himself whilst he focused his gaze on the now ringing telephone.

“The karaoke bar was a few blocks down! Where are you taking me?” you question Bianka as she drags you arm in arm down the street.

“Don’t sweat it, honey. Have I ever led you astray?” She rolls her eyes while you look back towards the bar. As you’re about to answer her rhetorical question, she interrupts it.

“Don’t answer that, alright? You know what I meant,” she defends herself, putting up her hand to your face.

Yabuta Bianka, or more known in the office as the busy body. As soon as she met you, you both became connected at the hip, despite not being in the same department. With your great listening skills and her big mouth, it was the perfect beginning for friendship. Walking what she describes as miles to reach your desk became a daily routine, delivering a small snack to share over the latest office scandal while there. It wasn't too long until the two of you were known as the inseparable office twosome.

The last thing you wanted to do was walk miles in your work clothes right after work to get to a mystery destination. Bianka always had her ways of entangling you into her little schemes. As you were guided down the street, your mind could only wonder what exactly she had in store for you. Over the last few weeks, she has been constantly asking about your romantic life. Too many times she had changed the subject to your love life for it to be surface level curiosity. You were always the hard working, quiet person in the workplace, making it difficult to bring about friendships even in your own department. Bianka became worried that your constant working hindered possible close relationships that could be made. In her mind, if you wouldn’t accept one of the employees as a future candidate for significant other, you would need to traverse outside the office. As the only friend she knew you had, she felt it was her obligation to help guide you to someone. And that was exactly what she had planned in the guise of going to the karaoke bar as you two had agreed upon.

You are led by friend into club, unwilling to enter. Your eyes widened as they land on a flashing sign, right above where Bianka had planned on taking you. A terekura.

“No! Absolutely not! You know how I feel about talking to strangers!”

Making a scene while being dragged into a place like a telephone club was not how you imagined your afternoon going. You protest that you both turn back to the bar, offering to even pay for whatever drinks she’d like just so you wouldn’t have to go through with her plan. Much to your demise, she was dead set upon making you meet someone. Bianka was strong enough to drag you towards the automatic doors and push you in. You despised her for dragging you to a terekura without your knowledge. You knew this visit wasn’t for her, considering how she always messaged her girlfriend when she wasn’t working.

“This will be good for you! Trust me! I know how much you’d like a sweetheart to sing karaoke with that isn’t me and go on cute dates with. I get it. I once was a loner, too.” Bianka offered a smile to the clerk behind the counter that welcomes you both.

“I would like the five-minute option, please! For her!” Bianka pulls you closely beside her as she reaches into her purse for her wallet.

“Don’t waste money on this terrible idea! Plus, where are you supposed to go? You have a girlfriend! What would she think if word traveled?” You stammer while she gives the money to the clerk. The older woman told you to follow her to a booth.

“Oh relax. I told Nanka about my plan. I’m going to wait in the lobby for you. And if you come out with no connections, I’ll just pay for another session. Have fun!” She was steadfast on making sure you would meet someone. She pushed you towards the direction the clerk was walking and you had no choice but to follow. The prospect of wasting Bianka’s money and the clerk’s time wasn’t appealing.

“This is your booth, miss. You have five minutes to make a connection. You can do this,” the older lady cheers you on. She must have assumed you were having trouble from what she overheard when you walked in. She begins to walk back to the desk.

“Th-thank you, ma’am.” You turned your head from the door back to Bianka, peering over the clerk to see her waving at you cheekily. Knowing her, by the time you left, the clerk would know everything about you and your love life.

Taking a deep breath, you finally shuffle into the booth and close the door.

You reluctantly sit down and mentally prep yourself, just wishing to just go home. Curse Bianka and her scheming. You knew you shouldn’t have agreed to go with her, even your horoscope warned you, even if it was the vaguest thing you read all day. What you wouldn’t do to just go to your apartment and treat yourself on this Friday afternoon. But you had to make this experience worth your time and Bianka’s money. You wouldn’t get another opportunity like this to make a friend.

Knowing Bianka only wanted the best for you, you dialed the first number you saw. You felt the beginnings of a stomach ache because of your nerves. Rubbing your fingers on your palm made you realize how clammy you were by just talking to someone over the phone. Your hand rubs against your leg to get rid of the moisture on it.

‘Relax. This is just like making a dental appointment, except it’s got nothing to do with your teeth.’ You try to calm yourself down while the other side is ringing. Suddenly, someone picks up.

Kiryu hesitates to interrupt the woman babbling on about her ex-boyfriend. Eventually, he puts the phone back on its receiver. He sighs and wonders if this idea wasn’t well thought out. The thought of anyone finding a real connection here is little to none. From what seems like desperate sex addicts trying to find a fix to somewhat unenthused, one-word responders, finding someone with an interest to have a conversation was quite difficult.

His watch told him his five minutes were almost up, meaning he would either have to pay for another session or leave without speaking to anyone worthwhile. He didn’t want to give up right then and there, though. This might be the last chance he’d get to meet someone before any serious future events occur.

‘I’m able to pick up one more call. Maybe I can try again-’

*RING RING*

His thoughts are interrupted by the phone. Surprised by the rings, he rips the phone off the receiver with such finesse and fervor it would give an onlooker whiplash. He answers, holding the phone to his ear.

“Moshi moshi?”

You find yourself unable to answer after hearing the deep voice greet you. A strong feeling of panic storms over your body, forcing your throat to close up and restrict words from being said. Your mouth opens and closes in an attempt to say something, only to be met with silence.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes! I-I mean yes. Yes, I’m here. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You lightly tap your cheek a few times. You wonder if he can sense your nervousness.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. This whole thing is new to me, too.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Love? A quick fuck?” You cringe at your bluntness, cursing your nerves for making you sound so harsh. He chuckles lightly.

“I’m not here for sex. I’m not sure what exactly I want, but I think I made the wrong decision coming here.” He sounded a bit discouraged.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, my friend forced me into this. She thinks I need a significant other, but I think I’m in an alright spot. I work an office job, I have friends, and I’m happy. I just don’t understand what she wants from me.” You realize you’re rambling too much in the small amount of time allowed.

“S-Sorry, I tend to, uh, ramble when I’m nervous. Please, what about you?”

“Well, since we’re on the subject of work, I work in real estate.”

“Oh, that must be quite exhausting. Having to appeal to people’s tastes and needs must be tiresome.”

“I guess so. I usually don’t get too much time off, so I have to spend it wisely.”

“I hope I’m not interfering in your sacred break. I feel the same. Work’s gotten awfully busy lately, what with the influx of orders coming in. Ah, I just can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not interfering at all. In fact, just from our short conversation, you sound like the perfect person I’d like to spend my free time with.”

You blush at his statement. You don’t think you sound all that interesting. Clearing your throat, you try to change the subject.

“How old are you?”

“20.”

“I’m 20 also. But you sound way more mature than what your voice leads me to believe.”

“I’ve been told I have a voice for acting, but I think they’re exaggerating.”

“Hmph, could’ve fooled me. Your voice is so deep and rich.” You lightly slap your hand over your mouth, surprised by your bluntness. HIs laugh reach your ears and make you blush even more.

“Thank you. You know, hearing you talk has calmed my nerves a bit. Despite my job, I always feel a little on edge when talking to new people.”

“It’s nice to hear that I’m doing something right during this conversation. I usually have trouble talking to strangers on the phone, but much less than talking to someone face to face. I’d much rather speak on the phone.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t like to meet me in person?” You can hear his little smirk through the phone.

“Th-That’s… I mean, it… it doesn’t seem all that terrible to maybe meet you face to face. You know, what the hell? Why not? We’re not really strangers are we?”

“That’s good to hear. Where should we meet?”

“Umm… How about the theatre, maybe? And we, uh, take it from there?” You felt all the pressure being put upon you. What if he didn’t like the way you looked? This was happening too fast for you to understand. You felt a stomach ache coming on.

“Perfect. My name is Kiryu. I’ll be in a white suit and orange shirt.”

You tell him your name and that you’ll be wearing a blue jacket and pencil skirt, with a white blouse and heels.

“Seen you then. Bye.”

“Bye.” You put the phone back onto the receiver and let out a sigh while looking at it.

‘What did I get myself into?’ You rest your head in your hands and close your eyes.

As soon as you told Bianka about your success, she was ecstatic and all over you.

“What did I tell you? God, I’m a genius! My mind is... so powerful!” You both walked out the doors to travel to the theatre’s front while she bragged about being right.

“You don’t have to be so braggadocious about this. Anything could go wrong!”

“Okay, first, I don’t know what that means, so nice try.”

“Maybe your mind isn’t that powerful after all…” You’re cut off by her elbow meeting your shoulder.

“Ouch!” You rub your injury as she continues.

“Second! You need to be more positive about this. I can’t be with you the whole time to be your little angel on your shoulder or whatever.” She stops walking as you arrive at the theatre.

“I’ll be watching from over there,” she says, pointing to a bench in the shade.

Walking down the littered street, Kiryu stops at the theatre.

‘She might be here already.’ he thinks.

A brief scan of the area results in him seeing a blue ensemble and heels from across the street. He walks closer towards the woman before he sees another woman in a similar outfit sitting on a bench scanning him up and down. She then nods at the other woman.

‘Hm? Is this a prank or something?’

Despite his confusion, Kiryu cautiously walks closer to the lady as she stands still.

“Hi! You must be Kiryu-san!” You greet him as you spin around. He looks a bit startled by the surprise acknowledgment. You cringe at how loud you are. Curse your nerves.

“Yeah, that’s me. Y/N, right?” He raises one eyebrow slightly.

“Y-Yes, sorry for being. I’m a little out of my comfort zone.” Your hand finds its way to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear whilst you speak.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m nervous, too,” he admits, thinking it might help you calm down. Whether or not his statement is true, it comforts you to think that he is as nervous as you.

“Not to be rude, but who was that sitting on that bench over there?” Kiryu points to the now empty bench. You turn your head and see Bianka has left.

“Oh! That was just my friend. You know how telekuras can be, full of creeps and all. N-Not that y-you’re a creep! I just need to be cautious is all, yeah?” You want to take your foot out of your mouth, but the words come out too quickly.

“Ha, don’t worry about it. I understand. I promise I’m not here to kidnap you. Other than maybe for a date.” He looks towards you expectantly. You want to jump in the nearby bushes to conceal your flushed face,

“I-I... “ The floor looked very interesting at that moment while you tried to come up with some type of comprehensible response. Damn him and his charisma.

“If you don’t want to, I can leave. I’m fine with what-”

“No! I-I mean yes! I… ugh. I do want to go on a date with you.” You surprise yourself that you can actually speak up before he finishes his statement.

“That’s great. Where would you like to go?” He stands patiently as he awaits your answer. Your hands find your purse strap and play with it as you try to think of a good place to go. He can clearly see how nervous you really are.

“Do you like karaoke? There’s a bar close by.”

“Yes! That’d be great. My friend tricked me into thinking we were going to a bar in the first place when really she wanted to set me up with someone.”

“Well, guess you could say we’re killing two birds with one phone call.” You give him a small smile and roll your eyes.

“Ha ha. Just lead the way, Kiryu-san.”

“Wow, Kiryu-san! I should have guessed a guy with your voice would have a great singing voice.” You ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed at his performance after he took his seat back at the bar. He chuckles and takes a sip of his now watery booze.

“It’s nothing to make a big deal about. I just really like karaoke.” Swirling the liquid around, he stares at his glass as he tries to sound humble, but you know you have hit a sweet spot by complimenting his singing skills.

“Oh please, stop trying to be humble. You have the voice of an idol!” Your hand somehow landed on his forearm on the table. Looking up, he meets your eyes and you blush as you take your hand away as quickly as you placed it.

The two of you conversed for what seemed like a few minutes but was actually a few hours. And whether it was the alcohol or the sense of freedom gained around Kiryu, you somehow came up with your genius plan. You were just glad you had worn stockings to work.

Deft fingers work some of your blouse’s top buttons while you both continue chatting. You wiggle about in your seat, listening intently as he talks about some little car race he was in, all the while hiking your modest skirt up to a somewhat teasing length. As soon as the bartender turned to serve a customer, you started to edge your small purse off the bar. A thud sounds out as the purse falls, only heard by Kiryu and you as the current karaoke track drowns the sound out.

“Oh! I'm so sorry. I guess I’ve had too much to drink.” Giggling, you start to reach down for the purse. Kiryu watches you bend down, eyes following and lowering to your cleavage. He scolded himself for taking advantage of the situation.

Ever the chivalrous gentleman, Kiryu falls right into your trap.

“I’ve got it.”

You straighten back up, and as he bends down, you are careful not to hit him with your feet as you uncross your left leg from on top of your right when he comes back up with the purse. He pauses for the briefest moment to admire what you put on display just for him.

A black matching panty, stocking, and garter set. All for his eyes.

‘I’m going to die.’

Smirking, you slowly put your right leg over your left after you are sure he gets a good look. You look over your glass in time to see him turn his head away. He gets back up, purse in hand, and you hope you did something to make him break face. Looking at him, you drink in his masculine face, his gelled-up hair, his dark, soulful eyes… Damn him.

A blank, but strong face looks back at you.

‘Dammit, nothing.’ You mentally curse yourself out for thinking such a stupid plan would work. ‘Of course, someone as handsome and captivating as him wouldn’t want anything to do with- Wait! Is that? No. It can’t be.’

Red tinted ears.

‘Gotcha. Hmph, what a perv,’ you joke to yourself and take a sip.

“I should get you home. Before you’re unable to tell me where you live.” Money ends up on the table, enough to pay for both drinks. He stands up and holds out his hand for you to take.

“Wow, you really must want me to take you home, huh, Ladykiller-san!” you joke, loud enough for just him to hear. He groans at your new nickname for him as you laugh at his reaction.

Instead of holding his hand, you wrap your arms around his one and grab your purse. You both walk out of the bar into the now darkened city, illuminated by the artificial lights and sparse stars. Before Kiryu can lift his hand to hail the cab, you pull him down by the coat lapel, mouth centimeters away from his ear.

“By the way, I’m not drunk. And if you’re a good boy in the cab, I might let you get a peek at something else,” you offer in coquettish tone while your hand slithers up his chest to cup the back of his neck. He has no response, even as he hails and rushes you into the cab, other than his ears turning an adorable shade of pink.

As you tell the driver what your address is, your hand drifts towards Kiryu’s left leg. He takes his hand and puts it over yours, interlacing your fingers. While he busies himself with your hand, you begin to unbutton your blouse’s top buttons to reveal your lace bra. Treating yourself to lingerie that morning was a blessing in disguise. The lace edge danced across your cleavage, leaving the observer needy for more.

Kiryu’s eyes widen slightly as his gaze falls upon your breasts, your other hand landing on your entwined hands to make your arms press your breasts together even more. He drinks in how playful yet erotic you look in the passing colourful lights of the city. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of you, trying to keep this scene hidden away in his mind forever.

‘I’m in trouble.’

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you can sense the want and need on his face, despite his efforts to not show anything. His eyes glaze over and his ears turn a bit pink. Desire falls upon the back seat of the cab, causing a tension between you and Kiryu. You decide to break it by reaching your hand towards his coat lapel. Not taking your eyes off him, you run your hand up and down one side of his chest. You close the gap between your faces, your lips almost touching his cheek as you move to his ear, hoping the cabbie pays no attention to what is going down in his car.

“Mmmmm, Ladykiller-san, are you flexing just for me?”

Interpreting the situation, he finally makes a move. By putting his hand on you inner right thigh, he receives a giggle from you and a teasing scold.

“What’d I say about being a good boy, Kiryu?” You start to draw circles on his chest, dangerously close to his nipple. You flash him a smirk as he doesn’t say a word, instead choosing to inch his hand up even more, fingers finally meeting the top of your stocking. He takes a risk by squeezing your thigh in his hand. Your little moan slips out as you trace your fingers on his shirt collar.

‘What a tacky print. But somehow, he makes it work.’

A hand gently strokes Kiryu’s neck and a thumb passes back and forth over his slightly stubbled jaw. Taking the hint, he leans down slowly as your hand that cups his jaw guides him towards you. He cannot help but grasp your upper thigh a bit harder as he awaits for what comes next. A pair of soft lips just millimetres away from his somewhat chapped ones, the distance starts to close. Eyes closed, you both prepare for what you have been waiting for.

“Hey, horndogs! This is my cab, not a love hotel. Get out!”

Embarrassed beyond belief, you let go of Kiryu in exchange for your purse. Fishing out some cash, you slip it through the slot of the glass as you utter an apology. The driver snatches the money from your hand and waves you off.

Kiryu had already gotten out, his hand awaiting yours to help you out. You close the door after climbing out of the seat. After his touches, your skirt had ridden up quite a bit, which you straightened out. Turning around, you see him staring at you with a small grin. You respond by lifting a brow and grinning back.

“Is there something on your mind?”

“Yeah, actually. You.”

“Oh, you’re such a lady killer! I might just fall over from swooning too hard!” You express yourself through a melodramatic hand press to your forehead. You giggle from your actions and see Kiryu still smiling at you, eyes filled with laughter.

“Stop that. I’m being serious. And I told you not to call me that.” His voice does not allude to him being serious about his complaint.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What would you rather be called?” You take a few steps closer to him and grab his coat with both hands for the nth time that night. You pull him down a bit to make sure your mouth is close enough to his ear. He can feel your warm breath on his earlobe, then your tongue.

“Good boy?” You bite down gently and give it an experimental tug. Hands snap to your lower back and hip, causing you to gasp. He pulls your hips close to his and buries his nose into your neck, groaning as your hands wrap around his toned torso. With how your bodies are connected, you feel every single part of him as well as how warm he is. You hum in enjoyment, reveling in the fact that you make him feel this way. A small smirk makes its way to your lips.

“How naughty, we’re still in public. How about we go to my apartment? I have even more to show you, Ladykiller-san.”

#yakuza 0 #yakuza #yakuza imagines #reader insert #reader #Kiryu Kazuma x reader #Kiryu Kazuma #long fic #ryu ga gotoku #not sfw

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