#really difficult not to let go of the exes of gran torino club headcanon

[shih-coulda-had-it]

short and fun bit from the OFA band (of vigilantes) AU, wc: ~500

//

“I don’t know why the strategy is just ‘get out there and prevent harm’,” En complains, throwing himself onto a couch. “Why can’t we just follow Sorahiko?”

“Hey,” Sorahiko says, half-threat and half-amusement. He slaps at En’s legs and takes the freed space for himself, easing into the cushions with a sigh. Around them, Hikage and Daigoro are setting down cartons of food, paper plates, disposable chopsticks; Kudou and Bruce have gone to fetch Yoichi, and Nana has dipped into their room to check that Toshinori went to sleep on time.

“You finding a dive bar where villains gather is more of a guarantee than trawling an unlit street for trouble.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s a little true,” Hikage helpfully interjects, kneeling by the coffee table. He’s tall enough that kneeling doesn’t affect his presence. Daigoro steals two pillows and joins his boyfriend on the floor. “Do you remember the one drinking American beer who wanted to—?”

Sorahiko rolls his eyes. “Yumi wasn’t actually going to sell my organs on the black market.”

“No,” Daigoro recalls with a grin, “she was just going to double your organs and sell them on the black market. Some weird-ass Quirks popping out of the woodwork these days. That, or you’re just attracting that shit, Torino. Things weren’t weird until you and Shimura joined up.”

“Sandaime’s told me a few stories…”

The door’s opened silently, but the new voice that travels through the air is a familiar rasp. “Bruce, gossip? I thought he put our origin story under an N.D.A.” Kudou steps further into the room, eyes the couch that En and Sorahiko are taking up, and chooses the loveseat instead. His white-haired lover trails after him; Yoichi beams at En and hoists up a twelve-pack of canned soda.

“They almost forgot this in our room,” he laughs. Sorahiko sees a tendril of Blackwhip wiggle into existence. “Oh, Banjo-kun, would you—?”

“I’ve got it, Shodaime,” says Daigoro, and hooks his Quirk through the thin cardboard, reels it to the table to the sound of a breathless thank-you. “How was the kid? Still antsy about being babysat?”

Yoichi frowns. “He’s not being babysat. If anything, I feel as though Toshinori-kun is babysitting me. Who told him I’m not allowed to drive the bus?”

“Me,” says Sorahiko. Betrayed green eyes lock onto him, but Sorahiko’s too haunted by the memory of Yoichi driving into oncoming traffic to feel any kind of regret. He heaves himself up from the couch and doles out a portion of stir-fried noodles, vegetables, and chicken. “And the N.D.A. doesn’t apply to anecdotes about stupid stunts.”

Bruce, still at the door, admits Nana into the room. Toshinori guiltily shuffles in behind her, a windbreaker thrown over his pajamas; he straightens up with a bright smile as most of the band greets him with a cheer. Sorahiko is not one of them.

“Welcome back!” Toshinori says.

“Why aren’t you passed out,” says Sorahiko, narrowing his eyes. “I made you run three kilometers today.”

En makes a sympathetic sound like he’s dying.