[buncha fucking noise. he's never had a problem sleeping unless his mind's busy with something pissing him off. trained his internal clock to shut off and wake up as needed. but this stupid thumping is keeping him up, dammit! even clogging his ears with plugs hasn't stopped the fucking thing from beating inside his body. he feels it through the walls as much as he hears it in his ears. who the hell thinks a steady pulse is a great way to sleep?! he manages to get rest each night, but... it's not the good kind.
which sucks. this fucking place is forcing him to meet up with touya at less than his best. emerging from the stairwell, one hand scuffing at the back of his neck in irritation, he catches sight of the man's swift ringer into the bin. good on him; he would've blown the fucking thing up.
tch. seeing touya there glows feelings in his chest, a fucking mess of... a lot he isn't gonna focus on. much. enjoy the time they have. anyways, someone else must've wrapped that gift bag. why ask for a surprise when you can ask for something you want?
a dark tanktop with grunge paint-splatter pattern shifts beneath a navy casual button down, both left untucked from his sage cargo pants, sans belt, with sturdy black sneakers for completion.]
You'd already be against the wall, baka. [retorting in similar taunt. as for the meeting place-]
We're by the stairs when we head out. [an equally silent acceptance and he pauses long enough to peek inside. it brings a little twitch up at the corner of his mouth. both items bring a brief rush of home, definitely taken with the gift. now he can make some actual japanese omelettes!] Nice. Gonna watch me break them in later?
[yes, that's an invitation.]
Casino for a few rounds, Red Cardinal for a meal, I need go by the Heron’s Retreat to pick up an order for tonight. [he loops the bag over his wrist before cracking his knuckles.] You wanna hit the arcade for games or cut loose with your Quirk in the training room with me? If we have the energy.
[caveat because he's already going off crap sleep.]
( his brows lift, both curious and judgmental, but that's a typical expression for his face, and already he wants to pull out the cigarettes, put one between his lips like it could be some kind of barrier between the two of them; exhaustion makes it harder to mask his feelings, and with bakugou, he's already alarmingly comfortable, enough that it means more will inevitably slip through. it's why there's a delay to his usual snappy teasing, one hand lifting to rub over his face like that might splash some more venom into it; in the end, his hands sling down into his pockets, now that bakugou's got the bag. )
Heron's Retreat? An order? You a delivery boy now, or do you just like getting facials?
( his lips twist--well, more than one meaning for that, but like hell little virgin boy's gonna pick up on that. )
Arcade over training. ( for more than one reason--he's never been good at holding back, even if he's practiced it a few times here; oddly, it doesn't feel right to shred his skin under the heat of his own quirk and expect bakugou to put up with it. ) You shouldn't have to die on your birthday.
( lips twisting up into a half of a grin, challenging, he takes a step forward, as though ready to lead them: but then hesitates, deciding that he'll follow bakugou rather than casually weaving himself towards the casino. it's the kid's birthday, so, whatever. )
You got me until midnight, so we'll do whatever you want. ( another tease, as he tilts to look down at him. ) Unless you're kicking me out before then. Or did you want to go back to mine later?
( it's a wary test, like he's not sure how long bakugou intended to be with him--like he's not sure if he has other plans, or not. )
[he's used to it. jaded and cynical yet interested and instigating, as if he's ironically drawn towards what he claims to dislike. doesn't tax much brainpower to understand why touya lists that direction. bastard's got some screws loose. the worst part of it is... goddammit, he's starting to find that bullshit face attractive! no, not his normal face, dammit! (he already likes that one.) but his slender brow arched into his choppy bangs, one blue eye narrowed more than the other, half-burnt lips twitched in a tiny show of judgeriosity! why's his face gotta make one half his brain wanna punch it through the wall and the other half wanna fist his ridiculously-low collar and haul touya in for a kiss? he's dragging a palm down his face in irritation and HE'S doing the same to his brain!
*STOMP* ... just stomp all that crap into his brain stem for the time being.]
Haa?! Like I'd ever be some shit store's errand boy! [this asshole. he glares right into the man's smirky face, then flicks his middle finger against touya's lip with a satisfying little plap.] I'll give you a damn facial.
[little virgin boy picked up instantly. he learns fast, and he's not some blushing prude.]
All right. [you know, he would've accepted it without another word. his birthday, yeah, but touya's got his own choices. but someone's gotta open his mouth again and jab words under his skin, earning himself a narrowed nigh-glowing red eye over the shoulder. glare? grin? both. challenge accepted.] I'll make you eat those words.
[he wouldn't put up with it. he'd work with him. do what he could to help learn how to step on those damn brakes. already spent time thinking about training exercises should it ever come up between them. he is a nerd after all. and a hero. who's now on his way to the casino, hands in his pockets as his shirt flutters slightly behind him.]
Midnight, huh? I'll keep you going to the last stroke. [again with the irritating assumption. he's starting to predict it. someone either loves insulting himself, or craves validating reminders he's not hated.] Back to your place. You might get claustrophobic sleeping in my room.
[no plans. he wasn't lying when he said he wanted to spend his birthday with touya. it'll be the villain deciding if the stroke of midnight ends their little "date" or if the now-offered spending the night goes till morning.]
( bakugou heads towards the casino, and with his hands slung down into his pockets, he follows--though the fact that he says to the last stroke makes him choke on a breath, like he's trying not to say something in return. better instead to focus on that little reminder: bakugou's room is still a tiny thing, and here he is, living the high life here in a place that's far too big for one person.
considering, he leaves the silence there to stretch between them--the closer they get to the wide awning of the doorway into the casino, the closer he sticks to bakugou's side, as though not particularly keen on anyone interrupting them. who knows who they might see down here: might come across some of the hero's little friends, after all, to which he'll absolutely sling an arm around his shoulders and declare him occupied for the day.
he highly doubts that anyone who has the eyes for bakugou would enjoy someone like him being around him.
it's louder, too, the closer they get, and with a slight wince, he takes in the familiar atmosphere of all the activity; slot machines pinging, staff at tables calling out bets and wins, high cards and low cards, numbers, encouraging other guests to join in--his gaze goes to a familiar place, one of the bars that's at this end of the room, but he won't taper off from bakugou to get a drink just yet. )
How come you didn't ask for that? ( he speaks just loud enough to be heard over the noise--which isn't too bad, since they're still on the outskirts. still, preemptively, he does decide to lift up the arm closest to bakugou, slinging it lightly over his shoulders. )
A rank up, I mean. I probably could have scraped together the chips for something like that.
( a scuff of a laugh, light and a little bitter. ) Don't tell me you enjoy living like trash down there.
( rather than lean towards the tables, he forces his weight closer to bakugou's side to guide them towards the slot machines. more of a chance there, and less opportunity for bakugou's attention to get pulled away by someone else. )
[what? didn't think he was capable of making a lewd joke? no longer some shitty virgin at the start almost a year ago, even if he's stubbornly kept his own determination of doing things his way. fingers trace the inner seam of his pants pocket, brain caught up in how stupidly surreal this is. touya's following him, they're going out together, back home this would be the dumbest failure of a hero and a moron's risk for a villain. but in this shithole... it's fine.
electronic noise, a showering of coins, splashing fountains, laughter and chatter, beeps rings tilts clatters, jingle tunes and truncated melodies. is it a far stretch to say the casino sometimes sounds like a bunch of pinball machines? way too many people in this palatial den. he slows his steps deliberately until he and touya are side by side rather than trailing behind. red eyes narrowed and body radiating a certain "fuck off" vibe to anyone who might think they can wedge between them. what? touya's got friends, companions, people who'd interrupt. ugly little jade thoughts poke their heads up in his mind and he stomps them back down. again. piss off. he asked for this months ago.
anyone who knows him who might have a problem with him being around touya, also knows not to say it to his face in the guy's presence.
normally he isn't a gambler and stays away from the casino. call him childish, but the arcade is far easier to win at and steady-albeit-smaller payouts suit his foothold here better than risking shit on a stacked house. but every now and then, he tries his luck. he knows how to play cards and did research on improving his odds at the different games.
except roulette. fuck that thing. unless you wanna cover 1/3 of the table's spaces and turn your chance of winning into 33%. it's a damn pricey gamble, but the potential reward is fucking massive.]
Huh? [he crimps his brows in annoyance. "that"? there's a billion "that's" in the casino! whump, goes an arm around his shoulders and he purses his lips to the side slightly in a miffed expression. but there's no attempt to shrug his bony yoke off. touya's one of the rare few he allows in his personal space without needing permission.
oh.]
Che! Hell no! Living down there sucks! [even if he's made it work for him.] I'll reach the top with my own strength!
[relying on someone else to improve his standings (not the sex way that is) would only piss him off. he already paid touya back for the swim trunks from the first month here. though rooming with the flamethrower a few times during the rank swap had been... nice. guh, taut bastard's pushing now! he swerves towards the intended machines, also leaning into the other man to nudge him to a set of slots closer to the bar he noticed touya glance at earlier.
but it also gives him an excuse to lift on his toes slightly and bring his mouth to an overly-pierced ear to growl into it.] And I'm not going for a rank up to get where I want.
( it feels like they work in tandem--that when bakugou lifts up onto his toes, slightly, angling for his ear, he tilts himself down, loosening his shoulders, loosening the arm around bakugou to let him do it. the growled voice there makes him scoff on a laugh: a genuine one, and when he pulls back, it's with an exaggerated expression on his face, brows lifted, mouth quirked up into a grin.
the hand at bakugou's shoulder slides down, giving him a firm pat between his shoulderblades. )
Oh yeah, is that right?
( loftily, amused, but he lets his arm drop all the way--with one covert little smack to bakugou's ass. )
Guess we'll see where your strength gets you here. That's a lot of people to fuck, you know.
( he says it mildly, but the look in his gaze is slightly guarded; he glances towards the machines, and rather than let bakugou approach one, he goes for it first. without even asking, he lifts his wrist, letting the surface of his watch ping against the payment screen: the machine trills to life, all bright flashing lights and music, and he gives a short nod forward for bakugou.
rather than pay for another machine for himself, he puts a hand in his pocket, the other jerking a folded arm back towards the bar. )
You want something to drink? I'm buying.
( as if that weren't obvious, by the slight smirk he's wearing now: he's now made it his mission to pay for as much of this birthday as possible. )
[a strange in sync sensation he's only ever felt with two other people in his life. how the hell did touya become a third one? could be a fluke, maybe, dunno, fuck off. he meets his tilt without mistake, avoiding any awkward bump of his mouth into a slightly-dropped ear or permitting touya's arm to slide too far away from his body. he makes a point not to talk about his plan with anyone he doesn't trust, so offering a dropped hint says enough of his feelings towards the man beside him.
and damn if that genuine laugh (and pat on the back) isn't instantly stored in his head like a proud kid getting validated by someone he likes. PISSES HIM OFF, DAMMIT!! ... but he's unable to tell himself it isn't real.]
Aa. I'm not gonna ask this stupid hotel for this. [indicating their being together right now. he valued asking touya to hang out with him on his birthday over a rank voucher, despite knowing the man could help him with it. the latter he could do on his ow-]
Oy! [he jolts slightly, shoulders hiked and head twitching with a grunt. bastard just smacked his ass! instantly turns a snarl on him despite the heat shooting across his face. a pat on the back wasn't good enough?! dammit, if he were still at touya's ear, he'd bite him!] Che. You can cash in your repeats.
[implying a preference. but he lowers his voice slightly and adds-] I dunno if there's enough of us to even make a full deck.
[how fucking fitting for the house to promise a reward, yet make it impossible to obtain. swinging after touya to the machines, he approaches the one beside him, giving it a look over before turning to... a free game. shoots him a stink eye, but this time doesn't protest. right, birthday favors. fine, he accepts.
*krrck~ krack pop* goes his neck, fingers, and shoulder respectively as he rolls, cracks, and rounds them, warming up in preparation for utterly demolishing a fucking slot machine. yeah, gotta limber up for this kind of action. before abjectly throttling the lever in one fist and yanking it down with all intention of owning it! plus ultra.
music, lights, chimes, and whirling wheels backdrop his narrowed eyes and light up touya's smirk. oh this bastard. he knows what he's doing! ... you know what? a scowl turns into a smirk, red eyes sparking with amusement and challenge. and maybe some affection lacing his rough voice.]
All right, sugar daddy. Get me a fireball. [he's gonna enjoy this.]
( sugar daddy barely makes it past bakugou's lips before he's scoffing at him, mouth opening like he's about to complain--but he's trying to be a little good, trying to be a little more mild, even if he wants to take bakugou in with one arm and choke him with the hard flex of his elbow; it's going to take a lot out of him, trying to keep from killing this kid on his birthday, or so he wants to tell himself. easier to deal with it if he thinks about it like intel, rather than a genuine desire to be around someone else: this resort plays with his loneliness like it's a toy, or maybe it's just harder to be focused, hard-hearted and sure, on something that he can't achieve here. without the distraction of all that, what's left for him to think about?
bakugou's smirk, maybe, as he looks at him from beyond the machines, and he pretends to roll his eyes. his hand lifts into a playful salute, long fingers flicked off from his forehead as though he's been given orders. )
Right away, sir. ( drawling, a little narrowed squint of his gaze, before he turns to face the walk to the bar properly. as expected, there's no one there that he knows or recognizes; not too many patrons drinking this early, either, or spending their time in the casino when there are other things to do during the day.
he leans his arms onto the bar top, flexing up and down on the toes of his boots, until the bartender comes around for his order. as he waits for her to fill up two glasses with fireball--he's not gonna let bakugou punk out of this one, so he's getting at least three fingers worth in each glass--he reaches nimbly behind the counter to snag a maraschino cherry, popping it into his mouth to suck on it. he gets another one before she returns back with the drinks, charges his watch, and he can retreat back.
by the time he makes it to bakugou's side again, he's chewed one of the cherries in his mouth to shreds; swallowing it down leaves the other, tucked into his cheek like a hamster hoarding something tasty. )
Tastes like heaven, burns like hell, they say. ( with a sloping sort of smile, as he hands bakugou a glass: and without clinking, lifts his own, letting a small swallow wash down along the sweetness of the cherries--tastes terrible, but the tingling combination of clashing flavors wakes his nerves up a little.
still, he's squinting like a cat when he looks at the machines, nodding. )
No good, huh? You need another round? Say 'please daddy, please let me play again' and I'll get it for you.
( he can't help it--he's snickering, amused at just the thought, as he lifts his glass for another smaller sip. )
[arched ashen brows twitch, inner corners dipping towards his nose bridge in a daring challenge. don't bitch at him. if he didn't say it, touya would've made a joke about it somewhere down the line. unaware of his partner's inner conflict over choking the life out of him in amused vexation, he lifts his hand, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk contrasting with his brows, and dares to make a "go on" motion with his fingers. not only to get their drinks as offered, but for him to take a moment's breath and wonder why the fuck watching touya walk away from him lances a crawling sensation through his chest he doesn't like. hackles rise across his shoulders, red eyes narrowing at the machine before him. if he could bother seeing him. when reality's his focus completely locked to his peripheral, to making sure the shitty bartender isn't attempting to flirt with touya. dammit, he should be focused on bringing down the peacock and getting everyone back home, and he's sitting here chewing over some random asshole he doesn't know potentially making passes at a man he never should've felt anything more than aggression towards! when the hell had his priorities shifted? when'd he start to care?
about whether touya's sleeping alone at night, about whether he's feeling shit or well... about what the morning "light" would look like glowing through the fainter tips of his spiky hair, which looks so uncannily similar to his own style. unconsciously he lowers his lifted hand, not to his lap, because his thumb takes an uninvited brush of pad across his lips. never once able to forget his two-textured kiss. always scoffed at the notion of "you never forget your first" and now it's such annoying fucking truth.
... he crushes the slot machine's lever in one tough-palmed hand and wrenches down as if his inner war can possibly be solved by jack-potting spinning lights and wheels. below all those flickering thoughts swimming in his mind, a taunting fact sits warm in his chest: right now, he's content. no... happy. being with touya for a little while. ugh. the hell is wrong with him? paying more attention to the man bobbing up and down on his toes at the bar than his slot machine whirls. tch! cute. ...pain! teeth sink into his tongue, sparking his brain and jolting his shoulders. snap out of it, bastard! this isn't the place for fucking feelings! especially towards a man who claims-- falsely --to have none.
ding ding ding! well, it's not a jackpot, but as touya approaches, a few pathetic chips clatter free in the machine's pouch, not even enough for another round to mock him, scooped out a second later before he glances up. and indicates his own cheek, referencing the man's slight puff.] What's in there?
[unless he's got a cherry stem sticking out of his mouth, could be anything round. he accepts with a sideways catch and lifts his glass to his lips. only twice before has he ever had alcohol, and both of those were sips. this? completely mirrors touya, tilting his glass and head enough for a similar swallow. over his tongue, coating his gums, down his throat with a rush of intense cinnamon, melts into sweetness, and leaves with a bite of pepper.]
GUh-! [try as he might to lock his jaws, he fails, and yanks the glass from his mouth with a major face. lips curled halfway, tongues sticking out the side, nose and brows wrinkled in distaste.] The hell?! I'm never gonna get used to this crap!
[yeah, he'll address the round and "daddy" comment in a bit, after he's done likely getting soundly taunted for being an alcohol wuss. he wipes his lips with the back of his hand and glares at the drink as if it's his mortal enemy. oh fuck no, he's gonna finish it and conquer this shitty drink, so no take backs from touya! but damn it for having the same reaction as the last two times!]
Hit me! [okay so it's not the daddy comment wanted, but...]
( his mouth trembles, but it's not with anger, or fear, or the pathetic whimper of someone begging to be seen--it's laughter, too easy to be true, he feels, seeing the way that bakugou's face wrenches up in displeasure. he probably picked the drink for its pretty name; the kid is too straight-laced to be boozing it up in a place like the golden peacock. as if to mute the sound of his laughter, pattered out softly from his lips, he snags his own glass up again for a very quick, and very brutal, swallow. his throat burns a little, pleasurably, as it goes down.
with a slow sigh, as though disappointed, he reaches up with one arm so that he can set his drink on top of the slots machine--his other hand comes in, immediate, reaching first for bakugou's jaw, a cradle of it between thumb and forefinger, before he telegraphs the rest of his hand; he's not going for the back of his neck, or even the front of it, and he doesn't want him to worry, or to jolt with sudden fear. not like he cares, really, of course. that's what he wants to say. but it's bakugou's birthday, and it doesn't feel right to do something so cruel, in the face of nothing back.
rather than answer, he adjusts his hand, twisting bakugou's face up towards his so that he bow down towards him--his thumb runs over the swell of bakugou's lower lip, pushing down on it, forcing his mouth to accommodate it and split open. then it's his mouth, sealed over the open space; his tongue pushes the remains of that second cherry into his mouth whether he wants it or not. )
Just a little something sweet. ( as he draws back, lets his hand drop away; wordless, he lifts his wrist again, pings his watch against the machine until it trills in recognition, and pulls the lever.
two duds, and one cherry. cute. no payout, which means he lifts his wrist again to pay for another round, reaching instead to take his glass back off the machine and down another small swallow. he's got a significant amount of credits, at least, enough to keep funding bakugou's gambling here for as long as he finds it entertaining. )
[sucks no olive or shitty toothpick umbrella makes its home in his glass. could've thrown the fucker at the other fucker and whacked his tremulous grin right off his half-baked face. he chose a drink with a badass name, dammit! didn't expect it to come out tasting like peppery maple-flavored ethanol! what was he expecting? uh... liquid fireball candy? STOP LAUGHING AND DIE, DAMMIT!! herculean effort and stubbornness wrench his lips out of their twisted snarl and back into as straight a growling expression as possible. with unwanted lip smacking and cat-like tongue flicking around his mouth. can't even chase the taste away; it spreads across his teeth and gum instead. touya's getting his shits and giggles over there, making a tempting target for his boot to his butt. yeah, he knows why the dumbass just yeeted his drink down his throat...
expecting more than a muted laugh, he blinks as a hot hand catches his jaw instead. thumb and forefinger pinching shy of his mouth corners as his chin settles on the man's palm between both digits. instinct makes him want to twitch his head back, but he refuses mortal reaction to keep his head right where it's being cradled. touya doesn't go for the small secret shared between them, branded into his psyche by the man's own hand. the hell does he feel like with his grip so close to his throat instead of his nape? fucking ridiculous his pulse picks up, not out of fear, but attraction, interest, excitement. great.
exhale tumbles over his lower lip as a thumb tip presses into his plush and eases it down in a curl. baring teeth and gums only slightly in preparation for a lowered mouth dropping onto his own in a deep settle. a kiss? right here in the goddamn casino where anyone can see (and not give a shit) all because of a stupid question?! red eyes widen, split second panic about getting something puked into his gullet-!! what's in your mouth? transforms into a mixture of touya's saliva, cherry mush, biting alcohol, two-textured lips, and his telltale hint of metal.
just a goddamn cherry.
gone. left sitting on his stood with a faint heat on his face and his tongue doing tricks in his mouth. telling his chest to shut the fuck up, calm the fuck down, and get the fuck back to the casino.]
You hot prick. [grumbled with more positive feeling than he wants before he visibly swallows the entire melange down. so what? he's had his tongue in his mouth before. what's a cherry and some drink? turning back to the machine, he watches touya's roll, eyes focused as he grips the lever and gives it a pull. nothing impressive, only doubling what he put in, but better than nothing.] Now I'm gonna associate cherries with your mouth.
Oh yeah? ( mildly, as though it doesn't bother him--as though he doesn't much care what bakugou associates with his mouth; he already knows what he associates with his hands, or at the very least, his hands when they're close to his neck, his face, his jaw. how many more touches will it take to erase all that away? probably nothing he can do about that one. does shouto still flinch when endeavor lifts a hand for any other reason than to smack him in the face? now there's something funny to think about. something he has in common with the one person he wanted to be like, but for all the wrong reasons.
his lips curl, but its something less than a smile; why does that bother him, a little? it's not like he'd really been on board with the whole kidnapping plan anyway, but he'd done what he'd been tasked to do, if only to keep himself in relatively good graces with the rest of the league--and, of course, to see his dear little brother. it hadn't mattered to him how bakugou felt about it or even if he agreed to switch sides or not. would've been just another annoying yappy teenager like a thorn in his side. )
Cherries are too sweet. My mouth doesn't taste like that all the time.
( is that a problem? rather than watch the machine, he leans his shoulders back against the side of it, glass in hand again; better to nurse it a little slowly, since who knows when the kid will let him have another one.
oddly, it's not boring, even though this is the kind of stuff he and compress might do for a few hours a day just to round up chips by counting cards and using marbles; it just feels--calm, something that he doesn't understand, something that has his free hand slipping down into his pocket to keep from flicking around, hoping for a cigarette. )
You do this every day or something? Figured you'd be drowning in enough money from your extracurriculars.
( a tease, in his voice--and a touch of something sharper, unrecognizable. )
You've got people. ( hard to say whether that's a question or a statement. )
[oy, don't give yourself such credit to his psyche. fire and flame, staples and scars, come to mind with touya's hands. in their past times together, his thumb pulls his lower lip from his teeth, a faint sensation of his tongue flicking the rounded tip and pad. warm fingers catch his jaws, heralding a growling question of kiss or snarl. his mouth finds touya's lips and the taste of his saliva and salt seep into his mouth, while his hands have free roam, bringing a skin-tightening shudder down his spine as bony phalanges caress or cup his nape. the good kind. only when he isn't expecting it do those hands grabbing the back of his neck elicit their mutual negative association. nothing is going to erase those memories or heal his scar. but touya's long since proven his touch otherwise; the man's one of the few who can get into his personal space without a snarl or explosion.
does he still hold a grudge? of course! petty and childish, he chased shigaraki down in the final war determined to make him pay for kidnapping him. bamboo leaves drifted past his head and sako's as they briefly commented on the past within the peacock's facsimile festival. he'd even needle touya about it should conversation levy an entertaining taunt. beyond that, he gives it little thought, not wanting to be defined by a damn kidnapping. he weathered the experience, cussed its branding, and grew from it.]
Never said it did. [association remains. as vivid as he recalls his first kiss amid a beach changing room, knelt over touya's lap with the man's mouth caught on his own. who the hell's gonna forget someone passing a cherry mouth to mouth? and *ka-chunk!* ratchets his slot machine's lever, sending image-stamped wheels whirling behind glass. tch, that drink's gonna stay nearby for occasional sips until he gets used to it.
*ding ding ding!* no jackpot, but a good 50x multiplier spills out a welcome return, and his face splits in a smug grin as if spiting the machine for daring to keep giving him shit returns. chips fall and clatter in a spill and he scoops them out one grip at a time. fuck, he loves winning. there's no better feeling in the world than victory!]
Che! You've gotta be fucking with me. I crush the arcade's high scores every morning! [he'd much rather own the house with skill and ignore playing games of chance with it. with the vouchers he earns that way, he can successfully budget his chips for other things, building up a small nest egg. stacking up the chips he just earned, he shoves a smaller bet into the machine, knowing his chances are lower.] I come here if I feel lucky.
[*sha-kung* goes the wheel again.]
I'm not gonna rely on others to make my way. [gruff pride orefusing to allow someone else the chance to say they helped him get where he was or were part of his victory. he wants it all to himself, so no one can doubt he made it to the top with his own power. one reason he didn't ask touya to help him change rank.]
If I feel like it, I'll make an exception. [he shoots a side-eyed smirk towards the other man. after all, he accepted touya's offer to pay for him throughout the day. sure, totally gonna say it was all his idea and feeling, not cause he kinda maybe sort of doesn't dislike touya, and gives more than a shit about him.] If you wanna smoke, go for it.
[mixing alcohol with cigarette smoke sounds disgusting.]
( a lilting hum of amusement, but there's no real vitriol there--he's never really been one for video games, never quite understood the point of wasting time there, and eventually, he ran out of time to waste, anyway. but it's a little cute when tomura gets invested in something on his stupid game system, and he can imagine that bakugou is also a little cute when he's determined to beat some high score, though he doesn't really want to think about that. better instead to just roll his eyes, a little, as he takes another small swallow from his glass.
who knows about video games, but the kid's not doing too bad at the slot machines. another few rounds and he'll probably have made enough to walk away pleased with himself--his gaze goes down towards the payout, then up to bakugou's face, and then slides away, trying to keep his interest neutral.
still, his mouth creaks into a faint smile: ) Thanks for giving me permission, cupcake.
( as if he needed it. truthfully, he would have held off the whole day if he could, which--probably would have resulted in him being a grumpy asshole come evening, but for his pride, or rather, for some stupid ideal of bakugou's birthday, he would have at least tried. now that he's got blanket permission, what does it matter? his free hand drags itself up from his pocket, bringing it with it a crumpled box--he tugs one out, puts it between his lips, and smothers the box back down.
a flick of his fingers and an inhale to light it, and he--playfully polite--blows the first exhale out towards the other side of the machine, away from bakugou. )
You know what you wanna eat later? ( he'd mentioned the red cardinal, which is one of his preferred places to go anyway, so he doesn't mind that at all. )
Just trying to decide how much I gotta pull out of savings to feed you. ( another faint smile, twisted around the cigarette--it's obviously a tease. ) Growing boy and all that.
Urusei! Gambling's not a challenge. [snarl and pout bred to create what sits on his lips. as a child, he enjoyed video games, swinging by the arcade to play the latest hero fighting game (always picking all might) and winning all the high scores at other games as his friends stared in awe or fell in challenge. childish delights gave way to adolescent focuses, video games left behind for textbooks and skill courses, a boy who raced ahead to his future and a life he expected to bow to his whims. did not go as planned. can he still kick ass and take names at video games? yep! his voucher stockpile attests. too bad bragging about such things to touya will only get taunted. what a jerk.
slot machines and gambling always seemed so foolish to him. why pay for only the chance to win, when skill means nothing to the whims of a machine? and yet, each pull of the golden handle stupidly feels like "adult" entertainment. a dopamine rush whenever colored tiles match up on spinning wheels, lights flare, and chips rattle in the cup. addictive when he wins, red eyes widening and lips curving in an open grin of victory, tongue sneaking a quick slick cross his teeth. frustration when he looses, ashen brows furrowing and mouth twisting in a snarl with a curse spiking under his breath. it'd be easy to get lost in such a glittering yo-yo...]
You weren't because of me, baaaka. [he noted touya holding back from the start, fingers sliding to his pocket, hovering over its curve, and skirting stubbornly away. if he hadn't giving permission, would the man have denied himself all day? he thinks so. whatever kindness fuels his abstinence can be put into something else. it's cute, but he won't force his grumpiness for a dumb cigarette. hmph, that box has seen better days. are the sticks inside still straight? why bother if they're gonna get crushed? ... he's not asking these questions. smokers are weird people.
You do that so easily. [damn, touya has to look cool with a flick of flame off his fingers to light it. deep and gruff, his tone softens to quiet, almost murmured in a lost thought. hard to tell if he's impressed, nostalgic, or both.] I couldn't even light a bunch of fucking sticks for a long time.
[a rare moment of shields down. he spent so much time increasing the size of his explosions during the forest training camp, boiling water baths and arm-rending blasts. yet even harder than that was learning how to control the small sparks and bursts from his palms to manage lighting a stupid campfire without blowing the entire thing away. how much time and effort did it take touya to learn a single "fwoom" for lighting his cigarette without scorching his nose or the air around him? ... anyways.]
Red Cardinal. Ado has sushi and hotpot, but it gets busy in the evening. [he knows the todoroki's are partial to soba, but isn't sure whether touya'd take the meal as too much negative connotation for him. he doesn't wanna end a good day on a sour note.] Ha! Don't worry. [taunting him in return.] I ain't gonna eat you broke.
[*sha-kunk!* ... goddammit! he keeps missing the fucking jackpot! it's spiting him on purpose!]
( there's an appropriate snort of his breath at bakugou's mention, but for once, he doesn't find himself rising to the bait, there. it would be easy to sneer at him and call him weak, or tell him that such simple, small tricks are practically child's play, but for one of the first times in a long time, he just doesn't feel like it. what good would it do? it'd be a lie, anyway, and while he's not against obscuring the truth whenever he feels like it, it just doesn't feel as good to lie to bakugou, here.
instead, he draws his cigarette back, giving it a small glance, before he takes it back to his lips again. )
...He only taught me how to make things hotter, bigger, wilder. ( a soft breath, bemused. ) Obviously, or I wouldn't have fuckin' torched myself.
I had to learn the smaller things alone.
( --which is about as far as his comfort goes, revealing something incriminating like that; he can feel his stomach twisting in displeasure, can feel his face twitching in discontent, and he takes in a slow drag of the cigarette to stop himself from continuing further. the smoke goes out, his stomach settles, the cool, unaffected demeanor slips back down and he tilts his head towards the machine to read the output.
kid's really sucking. well, he's not hitting the jackpot, so-- )
Let me do it. ( mildly, as he pushes away from the side of the machine so that he can come up behind bakugou, pressing them nearly chest to back; his hand lifts, too warm, and shadows itself over the back of bakugou's hand, cupping it to playfully guide it up to the lever again. there, he forces them both to cup around it, giving it a firm yank--the display spins, trills, and lands on triple coins: not the full jackpot, but better than nothing.
with a snuffling laugh, he lets out a little puff of smoke past his lips, easing back, his hand sliding down to give bakugou a gentle push between his shoulders as though to off-balance him. )
Come on. I'm gonna get jealous of this fucking machine. Take your winnings and let's go.
[such a simple thing, offered with a strange mixture of casual overcoating sensitive. who the hell has he ever admitted being unable to do anything to? three people, maybe less. yet he plucked a tiny fragment of his life and passed it over to a man who's entire existence wreathes in flames and bitterness. why? not a scrap for baiting him, he hasn't offered it as a means of inviting touya to taunt or mock him. didn't entice snarling at him for mock sympathy or a lash out at him for attempting to win over some command.
he knows why he spoke. between navigating twisted paths between hero and villain, between privileged life and abused life, they're people. one man to one man. a hand extended. truly, he's impressed by touya's skill, because it took him a lot of effort and time to learn how to manipulate his quirk to such a degree. and he should know it. that's all.
circling around to endeavor again. he's used to his paths now. irritation crawls under his skin and he ratchets the golden lever once more. so much he wants to say, budding on his tongue and mind until he feels it clenching in his lower jaw, all of it combustive and triggering. a step on brittle ground, cracks radiating out in hollow splinters across open surface. one wrong move and they'll go through into the depths roaring below. congratulate him, comfort him, question him, praise him...
he turns his head and looks at him, expression smoothed in a quiet mixture of impressed and acknowledgement. you worked hard, didn't you. good job, touya.
*ka-chunk!*
cigarette smoke clouds the moment and suddenly the slot machine is a lot more interesting. especially as it fucks over another close attempt at making it big.] Fuck! I had it! Stop screwing over my wins, damn machine!
[at best he'd treading water upward, growing his little pot slowly but unable to surge ahead in a glorious rush of victory and chips! it's doing this on purpo-] Oy!
[the hell? suddenly smushed a bit on his back, street-toned chest practically flush with unnatural heat. touya surrounds him like some smoke-scented raven, hand over his own as he reaches for the lever once more. both of them take hold, fingers interlacing around warm metal, and down once more. the hell's this feeling? a rush of shit all a sudden. all might's hand on his head, his father's guiding touch, an older brother's playful presence, a classmate's team-up. FUCK! who invited-?! *ding ding ding* Lights, music, and a clattering of chips.] HA! Cough it up, shit slots!
[he barely needs a nudging shoulder-press, already stuffing his paw into the machine's mouth to sweep out his winnings. no, not the jackpot, but winning feels good. chips clatter in his pockets as he stands up and stretches both arms into the air, popping his shoulders in the process.]
( it's childish. incredibly childish, or so he wants to say, but a part of him thinks that if he had grown up somewhere else, if he had been something else, something better, if he hadn't just been the reject spawn of an experiment gone wrong: hell, maybe he would have ended up like bakugou, someone hellbent on winning, being the best, someone excited to ride to the top.
he'd wanted that, once; he'd wanted to be a hero, he'd wanted to surpass all might, he'd wanted his father to be proud of him. recognition. love. equating them as the same thing is messy, and dangerous, and now he just wants something else: revenge. the eyes that look at him don't have to be laced with pride to have created him, or love for all the talent he has, or the things he can do. he just wants them to look, as he's burning everything down around them--because it's their fault in the first place.
so it's childish, but it's charming, the way he reacts to winning. good thing he's still standing at bakugou's back, mostly, so he can't see the faint smile that gets split apart by the cigarette between his lips again.
the question earns a soft shrug, a glance upward; he doesn't keep track of the numbers, not anymore. )
At the casino? Enough to eat for a week, that's probably the biggest I got. You can troll around the machines and recognize when one's close to payout, but gaming the tables is easier.
( machines are programmed to do one thing, but people are wildcards; compress taught him plenty about card counting and the like. catching drunkards unawares to relieve them of their winnings is his own personal talent.
in the end, it doesn't matter. high ranks get a lot of service items, and it's been a long time since he's been hurting for money--an odd thing to realize. it's more that he's hurting for other things, but that's a recognition he's not going to admit.
still, petulant, he folds his arms against his chest as he takes a step back, leading. )
You gonna fuck the machine, or me? Come on, we're eating. ( a puff of smoke past his lips, amused and leading. ) You're a shit date, you know.
[if he had grown up somewhere else, with someone else... of course he's thought those same damn thoughts! lying awake in bed at night, glaring holes in his ceiling as his brain smashed together touya's villainy with endeavor's bullshit personality. so many villains hinge on "if only" in their lives, a moment where someone should've been there to help. a hero. a friend. a hand reaching to take theirs when they needed it most.
touya could have been an amazing hero.
he wanted to be one originally, right? screw what plans endeavor had for him, touya himself had those dreams. a lot of kids in his class told him his quirk was way more suited to being a villain, teased him over what his villainous origin story would be. before he smashed them into the wall and crowed his intention of being the greatest hero.
how many times has he left touya's presence in this place and found himself staring at his own hand. lingering warmth from the man's touch seeped in his skin as a tattoo. chest throbbing a repaired heart within his ribs, knowing he wants to save him from his hellish insanity... it's too late. skeletal whispers catch his mind, dragging down to regret with no hope. it's never too late. fuck those whispers. he left a fist-shaped hole in the wall.
kind of like how he wants to leave a damn fist in the machine dinging in front of him! whiplashing between rage over loss and elation over winning. a fleeting moment of victory blanks out everything else save for himself and touya. hey, he pulled the stupid lever too. a moment shatters in glass, transformed to memory as he stands up.]
Huh. Damn. [he's never won large, but never left in a negative either. always did "well" on average. then kills the arcade as his personal stomping ground.] Che, of course you know how to count cards.
[sharp blue eyes, walled disposition, poker face of any flavor, smart as fuck. touya has much going for him here. taking advantage of drunk people is one part lame, one part hilarious.
muscle stretches in his arms as he lifts them over his head, one hand gripping his elbow and pulling it down to the side like an excavator digging towards his spine. pull... pull... and pops his shoulder, even if it sounds more akin to a snap from the volume. feel-good sensation runs lava through his arm to his fingers as they go limp for a few seconds. fuck, he'd needed that for several minutes now.]
What? [taunting voice, dropping arm, moving after him as his lips quirk in a half grin.] Ya really were jealous of that machine. [feet careful not to step on his partner's, he invades the taller man's space, leaning in close. a shit date, huh?] Liar. I'm one of the best dates we'll ever have. I'll look only at you for the rest of the night.
[before slowing his steps just enough to put some space between them and avoid tripping all over each other. no more slot machine distractions. touya's his main focus now.]
Oh yeah? ( it's a drawling tease, and one that sounds like he doesn't believe a word coming out of bakugou's mouth--it's hard to say whether that's true, or not. he's sure that compared to a lot of the people in this place, bakugou would make a better date; hell, even with his limited experience, he would probably say the same thing. but the outings and the ways they talk to each other and the things they do with each other are likely far different from whatever bakugou gets up to with the rest of his 'friends' here, whoever they are. they'd probably name him their best date, too.
it's funny, really, to think about. looking at that class of hero students, he knows that bakugou is likely one of the most popular: that he might not call them all friends, but that they'd likely want to call him that all the same. and what is he, compared to that? just some reject in a melting meat sack, too empty to get close to anyone, too jaded to even try. sex is, and always has been, different, but the dates and outings and fun things that bakugou does here probably keeps him busy enough that he feels fulfilled.
it's one of the first times he's really thought about whether it's a good idea, or not: whether he should be putting more space between him and bakugou, as though the kid deserves better opportunities. deserves to be surrounded by good people, people who want him, people who probably light up at the mention of being a hero.
with a faint, lingering smile, he snubs out the cigarette against his arm, flicks the butt away as they walk. )
Don't make promises you can't keep. You're gonna have to look at your video games if you wanna play them.
( besides, it's a little selfish of him to be demanding attention on someone else's birthday--but then he's never really denied being that conceited. even if it's just for their little walk to the restaurant, it feels good to be looked at, even briefly. )
Do you want to learn? Card counting and shit. ( since they're near the restaurant, he doesn't light up again just yet, though both of his hands sink down into his pockets, casual, as they walk. )
I know you probably think it's cheating or whatever, but. If you're ever in a pinch, let me know. Easy way to make some money, and fuck this place, honestly.
( a sniff of breath, almost a bemused laugh, before his gaze slides to bakugou. ) Guessing we can't sit at the bar, huh? Or do they not care about how old you are? Don't think I've ever noticed them kicking anyone out or whatever.
Uh-huh. [he never expects touya to believe anything he says. unless it marches to his own weird preferences. actions speak louder. he's never found pure words too effective. midoriya and uraraka handle them much better. talk is cheap, unless he's able to back it up with doing and prove his talk as gold as his intent. can't say he's been on many dates here, zero back home. but dammit if he's not gonna try to be one of the best-- if not the best --date touya's ever had! minus running around setting the world on fire. (that said, would he care much about wrecking the peacock? not really.) pretty sure such crappy stuff is one big percentage of how touya spends his time with his not-friends in their gilded captivity.
whether the man believes him or not, truth is, touya's a unique experience in his life, no matter what they do together.
walking beside him kicks up thoughts and feeling like disturbed silt in his mind. for as unapproachable and disgusting as touya makes himself out to be, for all his shit attitude, he's liked here. what was his status in the league? some of the members saw him as a friend even if he saw them as nothing more than expendable tools to further his own ambition. a burned and blackened heart still beats no matter how much touya wants to think he's beyond it, or not worth it. people still care about him. in a way, they're similar, neither interested in getting close to other people, but other people don't give a shit about their interest and shove themselves into their lives regardless. has touya found a life worth living here? if he can forget about his revenge for a few minutes... hmph, foolish though. might as well ask if he's content here by forgetting about heroics. this place can't fulfill either of them.
and yet... red eyes linger aside, watching touya's burnt, lanky figure drift next to him... perhaps in another life.
as damning as it is, he realizes he's one of those who put himself in touya's life and refuses to leave. could've left him alone from day one, dismissed him as a villain and irredeemable worthless trash. now he's going on a date with him, he's slept with him, he's spent time with him. hell, an eternal promise to come to touya whenever he needs him was forged by his own words. he can't save him, no one can, not in the way a hero would think of "saving" someone, but he can stand beside him as long as possible. even if it pisses the guy off, his hand's open.]
I don't. [stubborn.] I'll watch your reflection in the glass. [nar har har.]
[selfish? he's the one who wanted touya's presence as his birthday present. demanding attention from someone who wants his attention as well is mutual conceit. yeah, half the promise taunts him for being jealous of a slot machine; doesn't mean a lie followed.]
Aa. [surprising.] This place is a fucking cheat half the time anyways. [should he tell touya he learned some magic tricks and sleight of hand from maho aho atsuhiro before the magician returned home? maybe later. sore subject. considering he swiped stolen purses and credit cards from some shitty villains while obliterating them with explosions at the same time, safe to say he's already got some quick hands and eyes for this kinda sharking. and he has no love for the peacock. plus, knowing how to do it means he can tell if someone else is doing it to him.] Don't regret it later if I kick your ass at cards.
[DAMMIT!! thought they were through with this shitty age mockery! take a knee to your thigh, asshole! aggressive nudging!] I CAN SIT WHEREVER I FUCKING WANT!! [get in the restaurant! he can be his smoking ass he's stomping right up to said bar and plunking his own butt down on a stool out of pure pride/spite!]
( there's a faint roll of his eyes, but oddly, it's a little fond--but more exasperated, as the hostess jumps a little with bakugou's exclamation, and he just jerks a thumb after him as though to say guess we're sitting at the bar. inside, the restaurant is just how it usually is, quiet but still lively, and he enjoys that kind of atmosphere: the kind that makes him feel like they can go unnoticed, that they can just fade into the background. he's gotten used to being stared at here, but as months change to years spent in this place--a fucked up thing to realize--more and more, the regular guests preen at him for his status, and those that come from outside places insult him, and that's just how it seems to go.
he moves up to the stool beside bakugou's, shifting himself up onto the seat--his hand gropes down into his pocket for his cigarettes, dumping the package onto the counter, dragging in one of the nearby ashtrays. )
Order whatever you want and I'll have the same. No fish.
( but rather than give bakugou a moment to think, he lifts the hand nearest him to flag down the bartender, at least--and orders them two more glasses of fireball, because that's what bakugou's decided they're drinking today, so that's all they're going to have.
his lips curve into a smile of amusement, faint, as the bartender returns back with their glasses: he nudges one towards bakugou, and picks up his own to take an immediate swallow. )
You feel like a big boy now? ( teasing, as he tilts to look at him--but his gaze flicks over bakugou's head, and one of his arms slides out over bakugou's shoulders, fingertips sliding down his back, pressing in low as though in possessive fervor; in reality, his chin nudges up, teasing, because: )
She's here to take your order, sweetheart. ( a little smugly, as the other staff behind the bar leans closer to bakugou to do just that. )
[che! play him off as the too young party. would he have picked a booth instead of the bar? probably. but someone had to go push a button and make it a challenge, so bar it is! gonna be harder to keep his eyes on touya while they're side by side; still hasn't forgotten about that. luckily his temper's as fast to go as explosions are, leaving him petulantly smug soon enough. yeah, he's always liked this place the moment he found its no tolerance policy on resort bullshit. a calming ambiance without feeling dead inside. coming here's a relief, squirrel off in a rare as fuck safe zone he doesn't have to deal with anyone or anything he doesn't want. provided no one sets him off. being here on his birthday is... ugh, it's been that long, huh. gross.
no comment to touya's cigarettes. worse part is, some insane sliver in his mind niggles at him to try one. he's breathed in smoke before! during fights, during fires, and it hasn't murdered him. what harm's one or two puffs gonna do? ... yeah shut the fuck up.]
Don't like it? [damn, that's kinda cute.]
[wait- ALL THEY CAN HAVE IS A FIREBALL?! who the hell decided that?! touya! damn right he's slamming down two orders of water in addition because fuck that! ... but he still picks up the glass and lifts it to his lips. this time, at least, he doesn't have such a visceral reaction to it. if those sharp aqua eyes are watching, the corner of his mouth twitches slightly as flavor goes down. nope, not a fan yet.]
Bitch, I'm a man. [eyes right on him as if he's gonna stamp those words on his choppy-banged forehead. he quirks a brow at the arm around his shoulders, and there's no hiding his muscles tensing beneath touya's fingers in a downward trail. a far different tensing than he was while getting dragged into a portal long ago. fuck. his face isn't pink! it's the fireball! shut up! buddy, you bet he's glaring daggers.]
Katsudon. Spices on the side.
[no hesitation there. touya can handle fire well enough, but giving him the lava shits? yeah he'll let his date make the decision for himself. maybe he's being petty, or stubborn, but he keeps his eyes on the other man even as he orders. probably easily passed off as some kind of game or "domestic" issue. or a dare he intends to win.
but two more seconds of his hand on his back and-] Shoulda got a fucking booth. [grumble]
( his brows lift in playful surprise--but rather than keep his eyes focused on bakugou, where that gaze sits, staring at him, he glances over his head again. )
Katsudon, like he said. ( to the staff, who disappears once the order is placed.
glazed with amusement, his eyes slide back to bakugou's stare. no reason to look anywhere else, really, when he has what he wants right here: an idle breath of smoke out from the seam of his mouth, his free hand lifting, elbow digging into the bar to drag the cigarette from his lips and tap a little ash out into the tray.
how many more years are they going to have here, together? even by his worst calculations, bakugou can't be turning more than seventeen, or eighteen if he's being entirely generous; is he going to make it to twenty, locked in this hellhole? a part of him feels agitated by the thought of it, as though he knows just as well as he's sure bakugou knows that they'll both go stir crazy if they're locked in this resort for a few more years. no progress to be made, a stalemate on a war that he doesn't know the end to: more time for his family to live out there, in the real world, without him getting his justified revenge.
with a short swallow, he leaves his cigarette pressed between his knuckles, reaching for his glass for another burning swallow. better to numb out all those feelings before they start to really bother him. )
You really wanna stare at me while I eat that bad? ( teasingly, against bakugou's resolute grumbling about a booth--but firmly, his other hand is still at bakugou's back, fingers splayed, idly brushing up and down at the small of his back. )
It's fucking awkward, you know. Can't tell if it's better or worse when sloppy couples decide to sit side by side in a booth instead. It's all lame, isn't it? ( a breath through his nose, tinged with amusement. ) Cringe.
( yet here they are, side by side, with his arm still curled up around bakugou's back like someone will really come in and take him. )
Maybe I'm just the wrong audience for that kind of shit. Meals were never-- ( --a good time in that hell house, he finds himself wanting to say, but the fact that he's just so easily willing to talk about his former life, with bakugou, makes his stomach clench in displeasure. maybe it's the liquor or something, or the fact that it feels like they're in their own quiet little bubble, here.
either way, he chooses to fill his mouth with downing the rest of his glass. a flick of his fingers to the bartender for a refill. ) Whatever. It's not romantic.
Tch! [look at me when i'm staring at you, bastard! he's not doing this for his own health! yes he is. shut up! he drums his fingers atop the counter's smooth surface, nettling irritation pricking his skin as much as his stupid chest gets all warm inside when a pair of beautiful blue eyes swing back to his face. better. why the hell does it feel so much better when touya looks at him?
lips purse around a silent exhale, punching through his idle serpent of smoke. a different kind of scent. touya always smells a little of smoke, something burning or burnt. leather, skin, hair, cloth, cigarettes, wood. long since used to it, his aggression settles in a growling contentment whenever he breathes it in. touya's unique...
you know why he hates his birthday in this fucking shithole? because it's a tick on the damn calendar of imprisonment, his own weakness and failure rubbed in his face. touya's been here even long, six to eight months before him. pisses him off to see the man trapped in the same state. some part of him should find it hilarious, point and laugh the man who kidnapped and held him prisoner with his band of misfits is locked away inside the same cage. he wants to... he can't. anger flares up instead, as if slamming his fists into a wall that won't move. neither of them can accomplish their goals in this golden crap shot. how long does he have to wait knowing all for one is two seconds from tearing all might in half, knowing he's the only thing keeping a mad child from fusing with another mad child and obliterating everything. sitting here eating and drinking while his world hangs in suspended war.
he's snapped from distraction, red eyes fluttering once as touya's arm moves and shakes his thoughts. hmph, right. think on that shit later. there's something better to focus on right now. his arm drops from his cheek and snags his drink. instead of tilting a peer inside, he lifts the glass to one eye, touya's image inverted and half-submerged.]
Can't decide if I like your pout or smirk better. [smirk. definitely. making no motion to press away from his hand. his palm's heel, his fingers' tips, each slow motion up and down draws lazy patterns on his skin. nerves prickle and definitions flex instinctively, half of him wanting his shirt hiked up so skin on skin takes over, the other half reluctantly stays down.]
Sitting across from someone can feels like a damn war premonition. [especially in his own home, where his mom and he could get into arguments at the spark of a match. his lips quirk, unsure if he's grinning or frowning. be easier to keep his promise of eyes on touya in a booth, but pride keeps him at the bar. part of him wants to scoot his stool closer and lean into him. stupid arm encouraging fuzzy thoughts he stomps down inside.
touya's so caught up in his life before, each new memory and topic dunked in or screened through his blackened past. the past never dies, but to become so saturated in it the future can't exist except within it... fabric shifts, his body moves, one hand dropping to rest over touay's hand and ensuring it stays around his waist as he leans over and presses his lips on his temple. spiky strands of hair poke into his face and cheek, soft despite some brittle ends. i know. he hates it. for all his strength, he can't pull this man from his past or budge him from his damned course. but he doesn't have to let him walk it alone. fight, argue, bitter, confusion, bring it on. childish, yeah, but dammit if he won't make their meals together good times. so long as he can stay with touya until the day they both return home to face their fates.]
Next time, we can eat on the bed like slobs. I'll deal with the crumbs. [murmured into his skin. he nuzzles his mouth to his head in a small "shove" to love on tease him. then sinks back down in his seat. it's not romantic or anything.]
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no subject
Date: 4/23/25 21:30 (UTC)which sucks. this fucking place is forcing him to meet up with touya at less than his best. emerging from the stairwell, one hand scuffing at the back of his neck in irritation, he catches sight of the man's swift ringer into the bin. good on him; he would've blown the fucking thing up.
tch. seeing touya there glows feelings in his chest, a fucking mess of... a lot he isn't gonna focus on. much. enjoy the time they have. anyways, someone else must've wrapped that gift bag. why ask for a surprise when you can ask for something you want?
a dark tanktop with grunge paint-splatter pattern shifts beneath a navy casual button down, both left untucked from his sage cargo pants, sans belt, with sturdy black sneakers for completion.]
You'd already be against the wall, baka. [retorting in similar taunt. as for the meeting place-]
We're by the stairs when we head out. [an equally silent acceptance and he pauses long enough to peek inside. it brings a little twitch up at the corner of his mouth. both items bring a brief rush of home, definitely taken with the gift. now he can make some actual japanese omelettes!] Nice. Gonna watch me break them in later?
[yes, that's an invitation.]
Casino for a few rounds, Red Cardinal for a meal, I need go by the Heron’s Retreat to pick up an order for tonight. [he loops the bag over his wrist before cracking his knuckles.] You wanna hit the arcade for games or cut loose with your Quirk in the training room with me? If we have the energy.
[caveat because he's already going off crap sleep.]
no subject
Date: 4/30/25 18:20 (UTC)Heron's Retreat? An order? You a delivery boy now, or do you just like getting facials?
( his lips twist--well, more than one meaning for that, but like hell little virgin boy's gonna pick up on that. )
Arcade over training. ( for more than one reason--he's never been good at holding back, even if he's practiced it a few times here; oddly, it doesn't feel right to shred his skin under the heat of his own quirk and expect bakugou to put up with it. ) You shouldn't have to die on your birthday.
( lips twisting up into a half of a grin, challenging, he takes a step forward, as though ready to lead them: but then hesitates, deciding that he'll follow bakugou rather than casually weaving himself towards the casino. it's the kid's birthday, so, whatever. )
You got me until midnight, so we'll do whatever you want. ( another tease, as he tilts to look down at him. ) Unless you're kicking me out before then. Or did you want to go back to mine later?
( it's a wary test, like he's not sure how long bakugou intended to be with him--like he's not sure if he has other plans, or not. )
no subject
Date: 5/1/25 04:18 (UTC)*STOMP* ... just stomp all that crap into his brain stem for the time being.]
Haa?! Like I'd ever be some shit store's errand boy! [this asshole. he glares right into the man's smirky face, then flicks his middle finger against touya's lip with a satisfying little plap.] I'll give you a damn facial.
[little virgin boy picked up instantly. he learns fast, and he's not some blushing prude.]
All right. [you know, he would've accepted it without another word. his birthday, yeah, but touya's got his own choices. but someone's gotta open his mouth again and jab words under his skin, earning himself a narrowed nigh-glowing red eye over the shoulder. glare? grin? both. challenge accepted.] I'll make you eat those words.
[he wouldn't put up with it. he'd work with him. do what he could to help learn how to step on those damn brakes. already spent time thinking about training exercises should it ever come up between them. he is a nerd after all. and a hero. who's now on his way to the casino, hands in his pockets as his shirt flutters slightly behind him.]
Midnight, huh? I'll keep you going to the last stroke. [again with the irritating assumption. he's starting to predict it. someone either loves insulting himself, or craves validating reminders he's not hated.] Back to your place. You might get claustrophobic sleeping in my room.
[no plans. he wasn't lying when he said he wanted to spend his birthday with touya. it'll be the villain deciding if the stroke of midnight ends their little "date" or if the now-offered spending the night goes till morning.]
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Date: 5/4/25 21:32 (UTC)considering, he leaves the silence there to stretch between them--the closer they get to the wide awning of the doorway into the casino, the closer he sticks to bakugou's side, as though not particularly keen on anyone interrupting them. who knows who they might see down here: might come across some of the hero's little friends, after all, to which he'll absolutely sling an arm around his shoulders and declare him occupied for the day.
he highly doubts that anyone who has the eyes for bakugou would enjoy someone like him being around him.
it's louder, too, the closer they get, and with a slight wince, he takes in the familiar atmosphere of all the activity; slot machines pinging, staff at tables calling out bets and wins, high cards and low cards, numbers, encouraging other guests to join in--his gaze goes to a familiar place, one of the bars that's at this end of the room, but he won't taper off from bakugou to get a drink just yet. )
How come you didn't ask for that? ( he speaks just loud enough to be heard over the noise--which isn't too bad, since they're still on the outskirts. still, preemptively, he does decide to lift up the arm closest to bakugou, slinging it lightly over his shoulders. )
A rank up, I mean. I probably could have scraped together the chips for something like that.
( a scuff of a laugh, light and a little bitter. ) Don't tell me you enjoy living like trash down there.
( rather than lean towards the tables, he forces his weight closer to bakugou's side to guide them towards the slot machines. more of a chance there, and less opportunity for bakugou's attention to get pulled away by someone else. )
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Date: 5/5/25 18:04 (UTC)electronic noise, a showering of coins, splashing fountains, laughter and chatter, beeps rings tilts clatters, jingle tunes and truncated melodies. is it a far stretch to say the casino sometimes sounds like a bunch of pinball machines? way too many people in this palatial den. he slows his steps deliberately until he and touya are side by side rather than trailing behind. red eyes narrowed and body radiating a certain "fuck off" vibe to anyone who might think they can wedge between them. what? touya's got friends, companions, people who'd interrupt. ugly little jade thoughts poke their heads up in his mind and he stomps them back down. again. piss off. he asked for this months ago.
anyone who knows him who might have a problem with him being around touya, also knows not to say it to his face in the guy's presence.
normally he isn't a gambler and stays away from the casino. call him childish, but the arcade is far easier to win at and steady-albeit-smaller payouts suit his foothold here better than risking shit on a stacked house. but every now and then, he tries his luck. he knows how to play cards and did research on improving his odds at the different games.
except roulette. fuck that thing. unless you wanna cover 1/3 of the table's spaces and turn your chance of winning into 33%. it's a damn pricey gamble, but the potential reward is fucking massive.]
Huh? [he crimps his brows in annoyance. "that"? there's a billion "that's" in the casino! whump, goes an arm around his shoulders and he purses his lips to the side slightly in a miffed expression. but there's no attempt to shrug his bony yoke off. touya's one of the rare few he allows in his personal space without needing permission.
oh.]
Che! Hell no! Living down there sucks! [even if he's made it work for him.] I'll reach the top with my own strength!
[relying on someone else to improve his standings (not the sex way that is) would only piss him off. he already paid touya back for the swim trunks from the first month here. though rooming with the flamethrower a few times during the rank swap had been... nice. guh, taut bastard's pushing now! he swerves towards the intended machines, also leaning into the other man to nudge him to a set of slots closer to the bar he noticed touya glance at earlier.
but it also gives him an excuse to lift on his toes slightly and bring his mouth to an overly-pierced ear to growl into it.] And I'm not going for a rank up to get where I want.
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Date: 5/21/25 20:49 (UTC)the hand at bakugou's shoulder slides down, giving him a firm pat between his shoulderblades. )
Oh yeah, is that right?
( loftily, amused, but he lets his arm drop all the way--with one covert little smack to bakugou's ass. )
Guess we'll see where your strength gets you here. That's a lot of people to fuck, you know.
( he says it mildly, but the look in his gaze is slightly guarded; he glances towards the machines, and rather than let bakugou approach one, he goes for it first. without even asking, he lifts his wrist, letting the surface of his watch ping against the payment screen: the machine trills to life, all bright flashing lights and music, and he gives a short nod forward for bakugou.
rather than pay for another machine for himself, he puts a hand in his pocket, the other jerking a folded arm back towards the bar. )
You want something to drink? I'm buying.
( as if that weren't obvious, by the slight smirk he's wearing now: he's now made it his mission to pay for as much of this birthday as possible. )
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Date: 5/25/25 23:16 (UTC)and damn if that genuine laugh (and pat on the back) isn't instantly stored in his head like a proud kid getting validated by someone he likes. PISSES HIM OFF, DAMMIT!! ... but he's unable to tell himself it isn't real.]
Aa. I'm not gonna ask this stupid hotel for this. [indicating their being together right now. he valued asking touya to hang out with him on his birthday over a rank voucher, despite knowing the man could help him with it. the latter he could do on his ow-]
Oy! [he jolts slightly, shoulders hiked and head twitching with a grunt. bastard just smacked his ass! instantly turns a snarl on him despite the heat shooting across his face. a pat on the back wasn't good enough?! dammit, if he were still at touya's ear, he'd bite him!] Che. You can cash in your repeats.
[implying a preference. but he lowers his voice slightly and adds-] I dunno if there's enough of us to even make a full deck.
[how fucking fitting for the house to promise a reward, yet make it impossible to obtain. swinging after touya to the machines, he approaches the one beside him, giving it a look over before turning to... a free game. shoots him a stink eye, but this time doesn't protest. right, birthday favors. fine, he accepts.
*krrck~ krack pop* goes his neck, fingers, and shoulder respectively as he rolls, cracks, and rounds them, warming up in preparation for utterly demolishing a fucking slot machine. yeah, gotta limber up for this kind of action. before abjectly throttling the lever in one fist and yanking it down with all intention of owning it! plus ultra.
music, lights, chimes, and whirling wheels backdrop his narrowed eyes and light up touya's smirk. oh this bastard. he knows what he's doing! ... you know what? a scowl turns into a smirk, red eyes sparking with amusement and challenge. and maybe some affection lacing his rough voice.]
All right, sugar daddy. Get me a fireball. [he's gonna enjoy this.]
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Date: 5/31/25 22:47 (UTC)bakugou's smirk, maybe, as he looks at him from beyond the machines, and he pretends to roll his eyes. his hand lifts into a playful salute, long fingers flicked off from his forehead as though he's been given orders. )
Right away, sir. ( drawling, a little narrowed squint of his gaze, before he turns to face the walk to the bar properly. as expected, there's no one there that he knows or recognizes; not too many patrons drinking this early, either, or spending their time in the casino when there are other things to do during the day.
he leans his arms onto the bar top, flexing up and down on the toes of his boots, until the bartender comes around for his order. as he waits for her to fill up two glasses with fireball--he's not gonna let bakugou punk out of this one, so he's getting at least three fingers worth in each glass--he reaches nimbly behind the counter to snag a maraschino cherry, popping it into his mouth to suck on it. he gets another one before she returns back with the drinks, charges his watch, and he can retreat back.
by the time he makes it to bakugou's side again, he's chewed one of the cherries in his mouth to shreds; swallowing it down leaves the other, tucked into his cheek like a hamster hoarding something tasty. )
Tastes like heaven, burns like hell, they say. ( with a sloping sort of smile, as he hands bakugou a glass: and without clinking, lifts his own, letting a small swallow wash down along the sweetness of the cherries--tastes terrible, but the tingling combination of clashing flavors wakes his nerves up a little.
still, he's squinting like a cat when he looks at the machines, nodding. )
No good, huh? You need another round? Say 'please daddy, please let me play again' and I'll get it for you.
( he can't help it--he's snickering, amused at just the thought, as he lifts his glass for another smaller sip. )
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Date: 6/3/25 13:31 (UTC)about whether touya's sleeping alone at night, about whether he's feeling shit or well... about what the morning "light" would look like glowing through the fainter tips of his spiky hair, which looks so uncannily similar to his own style. unconsciously he lowers his lifted hand, not to his lap, because his thumb takes an uninvited brush of pad across his lips. never once able to forget his two-textured kiss. always scoffed at the notion of "you never forget your first" and now it's such annoying fucking truth.
... he crushes the slot machine's lever in one tough-palmed hand and wrenches down as if his inner war can possibly be solved by jack-potting spinning lights and wheels. below all those flickering thoughts swimming in his mind, a taunting fact sits warm in his chest: right now, he's content. no... happy. being with touya for a little while. ugh. the hell is wrong with him? paying more attention to the man bobbing up and down on his toes at the bar than his slot machine whirls. tch! cute. ...pain! teeth sink into his tongue, sparking his brain and jolting his shoulders. snap out of it, bastard! this isn't the place for fucking feelings! especially towards a man who claims-- falsely --to have none.
ding ding ding! well, it's not a jackpot, but as touya approaches, a few pathetic chips clatter free in the machine's pouch, not even enough for another round to mock him, scooped out a second later before he glances up. and indicates his own cheek, referencing the man's slight puff.] What's in there?
[unless he's got a cherry stem sticking out of his mouth, could be anything round. he accepts with a sideways catch and lifts his glass to his lips. only twice before has he ever had alcohol, and both of those were sips. this? completely mirrors touya, tilting his glass and head enough for a similar swallow. over his tongue, coating his gums, down his throat with a rush of intense cinnamon, melts into sweetness, and leaves with a bite of pepper.]
GUh-! [try as he might to lock his jaws, he fails, and yanks the glass from his mouth with a major face. lips curled halfway, tongues sticking out the side, nose and brows wrinkled in distaste.] The hell?! I'm never gonna get used to this crap!
[yeah, he'll address the round and "daddy" comment in a bit, after he's done likely getting soundly taunted for being an alcohol wuss. he wipes his lips with the back of his hand and glares at the drink as if it's his mortal enemy. oh fuck no, he's gonna finish it and conquer this shitty drink, so no take backs from touya! but damn it for having the same reaction as the last two times!]
Hit me! [okay so it's not the daddy comment wanted, but...]
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Date: 6/11/25 20:33 (UTC)with a slow sigh, as though disappointed, he reaches up with one arm so that he can set his drink on top of the slots machine--his other hand comes in, immediate, reaching first for bakugou's jaw, a cradle of it between thumb and forefinger, before he telegraphs the rest of his hand; he's not going for the back of his neck, or even the front of it, and he doesn't want him to worry, or to jolt with sudden fear. not like he cares, really, of course. that's what he wants to say. but it's bakugou's birthday, and it doesn't feel right to do something so cruel, in the face of nothing back.
rather than answer, he adjusts his hand, twisting bakugou's face up towards his so that he bow down towards him--his thumb runs over the swell of bakugou's lower lip, pushing down on it, forcing his mouth to accommodate it and split open. then it's his mouth, sealed over the open space; his tongue pushes the remains of that second cherry into his mouth whether he wants it or not. )
Just a little something sweet. ( as he draws back, lets his hand drop away; wordless, he lifts his wrist again, pings his watch against the machine until it trills in recognition, and pulls the lever.
two duds, and one cherry. cute. no payout, which means he lifts his wrist again to pay for another round, reaching instead to take his glass back off the machine and down another small swallow. he's got a significant amount of credits, at least, enough to keep funding bakugou's gambling here for as long as he finds it entertaining. )
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Date: 6/18/25 20:15 (UTC)expecting more than a muted laugh, he blinks as a hot hand catches his jaw instead. thumb and forefinger pinching shy of his mouth corners as his chin settles on the man's palm between both digits. instinct makes him want to twitch his head back, but he refuses mortal reaction to keep his head right where it's being cradled. touya doesn't go for the small secret shared between them, branded into his psyche by the man's own hand. the hell does he feel like with his grip so close to his throat instead of his nape? fucking ridiculous his pulse picks up, not out of fear, but attraction, interest, excitement. great.
exhale tumbles over his lower lip as a thumb tip presses into his plush and eases it down in a curl. baring teeth and gums only slightly in preparation for a lowered mouth dropping onto his own in a deep settle. a kiss? right here in the goddamn casino where anyone can see (and not give a shit) all because of a stupid question?! red eyes widen, split second panic about getting something puked into his gullet-!! what's in your mouth? transforms into a mixture of touya's saliva, cherry mush, biting alcohol, two-textured lips, and his telltale hint of metal.
just a goddamn cherry.
gone. left sitting on his stood with a faint heat on his face and his tongue doing tricks in his mouth. telling his chest to shut the fuck up, calm the fuck down, and get the fuck back to the casino.]
You hot prick. [grumbled with more positive feeling than he wants before he visibly swallows the entire melange down. so what? he's had his tongue in his mouth before. what's a cherry and some drink? turning back to the machine, he watches touya's roll, eyes focused as he grips the lever and gives it a pull. nothing impressive, only doubling what he put in, but better than nothing.] Now I'm gonna associate cherries with your mouth.
[is that a problem?]
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Date: 6/24/25 20:53 (UTC)his lips curl, but its something less than a smile; why does that bother him, a little? it's not like he'd really been on board with the whole kidnapping plan anyway, but he'd done what he'd been tasked to do, if only to keep himself in relatively good graces with the rest of the league--and, of course, to see his dear little brother. it hadn't mattered to him how bakugou felt about it or even if he agreed to switch sides or not. would've been just another annoying yappy teenager like a thorn in his side. )
Cherries are too sweet. My mouth doesn't taste like that all the time.
( is that a problem? rather than watch the machine, he leans his shoulders back against the side of it, glass in hand again; better to nurse it a little slowly, since who knows when the kid will let him have another one.
oddly, it's not boring, even though this is the kind of stuff he and compress might do for a few hours a day just to round up chips by counting cards and using marbles; it just feels--calm, something that he doesn't understand, something that has his free hand slipping down into his pocket to keep from flicking around, hoping for a cigarette. )
You do this every day or something? Figured you'd be drowning in enough money from your extracurriculars.
( a tease, in his voice--and a touch of something sharper, unrecognizable. )
You've got people. ( hard to say whether that's a question or a statement. )
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Date: 6/27/25 23:37 (UTC)does he still hold a grudge? of course! petty and childish, he chased shigaraki down in the final war determined to make him pay for kidnapping him. bamboo leaves drifted past his head and sako's as they briefly commented on the past within the peacock's facsimile festival. he'd even needle touya about it should conversation levy an entertaining taunt. beyond that, he gives it little thought, not wanting to be defined by a damn kidnapping. he weathered the experience, cussed its branding, and grew from it.]
Never said it did. [association remains. as vivid as he recalls his first kiss amid a beach changing room, knelt over touya's lap with the man's mouth caught on his own. who the hell's gonna forget someone passing a cherry mouth to mouth? and *ka-chunk!* ratchets his slot machine's lever, sending image-stamped wheels whirling behind glass. tch, that drink's gonna stay nearby for occasional sips until he gets used to it.
*ding ding ding!* no jackpot, but a good 50x multiplier spills out a welcome return, and his face splits in a smug grin as if spiting the machine for daring to keep giving him shit returns. chips fall and clatter in a spill and he scoops them out one grip at a time. fuck, he loves winning. there's no better feeling in the world than victory!]
Che! You've gotta be fucking with me. I crush the arcade's high scores every morning! [he'd much rather own the house with skill and ignore playing games of chance with it. with the vouchers he earns that way, he can successfully budget his chips for other things, building up a small nest egg. stacking up the chips he just earned, he shoves a smaller bet into the machine, knowing his chances are lower.] I come here if I feel lucky.
[*sha-kung* goes the wheel again.]
I'm not gonna rely on others to make my way. [gruff pride orefusing to allow someone else the chance to say they helped him get where he was or were part of his victory. he wants it all to himself, so no one can doubt he made it to the top with his own power. one reason he didn't ask touya to help him change rank.]
If I feel like it, I'll make an exception. [he shoots a side-eyed smirk towards the other man. after all, he accepted touya's offer to pay for him throughout the day. sure, totally gonna say it was all his idea and feeling, not cause he kinda maybe sort of doesn't dislike touya, and gives more than a shit about him.] If you wanna smoke, go for it.
[mixing alcohol with cigarette smoke sounds disgusting.]
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Date: 7/2/25 19:24 (UTC)( a lilting hum of amusement, but there's no real vitriol there--he's never really been one for video games, never quite understood the point of wasting time there, and eventually, he ran out of time to waste, anyway. but it's a little cute when tomura gets invested in something on his stupid game system, and he can imagine that bakugou is also a little cute when he's determined to beat some high score, though he doesn't really want to think about that. better instead to just roll his eyes, a little, as he takes another small swallow from his glass.
who knows about video games, but the kid's not doing too bad at the slot machines. another few rounds and he'll probably have made enough to walk away pleased with himself--his gaze goes down towards the payout, then up to bakugou's face, and then slides away, trying to keep his interest neutral.
still, his mouth creaks into a faint smile: ) Thanks for giving me permission, cupcake.
( as if he needed it. truthfully, he would have held off the whole day if he could, which--probably would have resulted in him being a grumpy asshole come evening, but for his pride, or rather, for some stupid ideal of bakugou's birthday, he would have at least tried. now that he's got blanket permission, what does it matter? his free hand drags itself up from his pocket, bringing it with it a crumpled box--he tugs one out, puts it between his lips, and smothers the box back down.
a flick of his fingers and an inhale to light it, and he--playfully polite--blows the first exhale out towards the other side of the machine, away from bakugou. )
You know what you wanna eat later? ( he'd mentioned the red cardinal, which is one of his preferred places to go anyway, so he doesn't mind that at all. )
Just trying to decide how much I gotta pull out of savings to feed you. ( another faint smile, twisted around the cigarette--it's obviously a tease. ) Growing boy and all that.
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Date: 7/4/25 03:49 (UTC)slot machines and gambling always seemed so foolish to him. why pay for only the chance to win, when skill means nothing to the whims of a machine? and yet, each pull of the golden handle stupidly feels like "adult" entertainment. a dopamine rush whenever colored tiles match up on spinning wheels, lights flare, and chips rattle in the cup. addictive when he wins, red eyes widening and lips curving in an open grin of victory, tongue sneaking a quick slick cross his teeth. frustration when he looses, ashen brows furrowing and mouth twisting in a snarl with a curse spiking under his breath. it'd be easy to get lost in such a glittering yo-yo...]
You weren't because of me, baaaka. [he noted touya holding back from the start, fingers sliding to his pocket, hovering over its curve, and skirting stubbornly away. if he hadn't giving permission, would the man have denied himself all day? he thinks so. whatever kindness fuels his abstinence can be put into something else. it's cute, but he won't force his grumpiness for a dumb cigarette. hmph, that box has seen better days. are the sticks inside still straight? why bother if they're gonna get crushed? ... he's not asking these questions. smokers are weird people.
You do that so easily. [damn, touya has to look cool with a flick of flame off his fingers to light it. deep and gruff, his tone softens to quiet, almost murmured in a lost thought. hard to tell if he's impressed, nostalgic, or both.] I couldn't even light a bunch of fucking sticks for a long time.
[a rare moment of shields down. he spent so much time increasing the size of his explosions during the forest training camp, boiling water baths and arm-rending blasts. yet even harder than that was learning how to control the small sparks and bursts from his palms to manage lighting a stupid campfire without blowing the entire thing away. how much time and effort did it take touya to learn a single "fwoom" for lighting his cigarette without scorching his nose or the air around him? ... anyways.]
Red Cardinal. Ado has sushi and hotpot, but it gets busy in the evening. [he knows the todoroki's are partial to soba, but isn't sure whether touya'd take the meal as too much negative connotation for him. he doesn't wanna end a good day on a sour note.] Ha! Don't worry. [taunting him in return.] I ain't gonna eat you broke.
[*sha-kunk!* ... goddammit! he keeps missing the fucking jackpot! it's spiting him on purpose!]
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Date: 7/9/25 18:18 (UTC)instead, he draws his cigarette back, giving it a small glance, before he takes it back to his lips again. )
...He only taught me how to make things hotter, bigger, wilder. ( a soft breath, bemused. ) Obviously, or I wouldn't have fuckin' torched myself.
I had to learn the smaller things alone.
( --which is about as far as his comfort goes, revealing something incriminating like that; he can feel his stomach twisting in displeasure, can feel his face twitching in discontent, and he takes in a slow drag of the cigarette to stop himself from continuing further. the smoke goes out, his stomach settles, the cool, unaffected demeanor slips back down and he tilts his head towards the machine to read the output.
kid's really sucking. well, he's not hitting the jackpot, so-- )
Let me do it. ( mildly, as he pushes away from the side of the machine so that he can come up behind bakugou, pressing them nearly chest to back; his hand lifts, too warm, and shadows itself over the back of bakugou's hand, cupping it to playfully guide it up to the lever again. there, he forces them both to cup around it, giving it a firm yank--the display spins, trills, and lands on triple coins: not the full jackpot, but better than nothing.
with a snuffling laugh, he lets out a little puff of smoke past his lips, easing back, his hand sliding down to give bakugou a gentle push between his shoulders as though to off-balance him. )
Come on. I'm gonna get jealous of this fucking machine. Take your winnings and let's go.
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Date: 7/11/25 17:39 (UTC)he knows why he spoke. between navigating twisted paths between hero and villain, between privileged life and abused life, they're people. one man to one man. a hand extended. truly, he's impressed by touya's skill, because it took him a lot of effort and time to learn how to manipulate his quirk to such a degree. and he should know it. that's all.
circling around to endeavor again. he's used to his paths now. irritation crawls under his skin and he ratchets the golden lever once more. so much he wants to say, budding on his tongue and mind until he feels it clenching in his lower jaw, all of it combustive and triggering. a step on brittle ground, cracks radiating out in hollow splinters across open surface. one wrong move and they'll go through into the depths roaring below. congratulate him, comfort him, question him, praise him...
he turns his head and looks at him, expression smoothed in a quiet mixture of impressed and acknowledgement. you worked hard, didn't you. good job, touya.
*ka-chunk!*
cigarette smoke clouds the moment and suddenly the slot machine is a lot more interesting. especially as it fucks over another close attempt at making it big.] Fuck! I had it! Stop screwing over my wins, damn machine!
[at best he'd treading water upward, growing his little pot slowly but unable to surge ahead in a glorious rush of victory and chips! it's doing this on purpo-] Oy!
[the hell? suddenly smushed a bit on his back, street-toned chest practically flush with unnatural heat. touya surrounds him like some smoke-scented raven, hand over his own as he reaches for the lever once more. both of them take hold, fingers interlacing around warm metal, and down once more. the hell's this feeling? a rush of shit all a sudden. all might's hand on his head, his father's guiding touch, an older brother's playful presence, a classmate's team-up. FUCK! who invited-?! *ding ding ding* Lights, music, and a clattering of chips.] HA! Cough it up, shit slots!
[he barely needs a nudging shoulder-press, already stuffing his paw into the machine's mouth to sweep out his winnings. no, not the jackpot, but winning feels good. chips clatter in his pockets as he stands up and stretches both arms into the air, popping his shoulders in the process.]
What's the biggest you've won in the casino?
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Date: 7/16/25 20:05 (UTC)he'd wanted that, once; he'd wanted to be a hero, he'd wanted to surpass all might, he'd wanted his father to be proud of him. recognition. love. equating them as the same thing is messy, and dangerous, and now he just wants something else: revenge. the eyes that look at him don't have to be laced with pride to have created him, or love for all the talent he has, or the things he can do. he just wants them to look, as he's burning everything down around them--because it's their fault in the first place.
so it's childish, but it's charming, the way he reacts to winning. good thing he's still standing at bakugou's back, mostly, so he can't see the faint smile that gets split apart by the cigarette between his lips again.
the question earns a soft shrug, a glance upward; he doesn't keep track of the numbers, not anymore. )
At the casino? Enough to eat for a week, that's probably the biggest I got. You can troll around the machines and recognize when one's close to payout, but gaming the tables is easier.
( machines are programmed to do one thing, but people are wildcards; compress taught him plenty about card counting and the like. catching drunkards unawares to relieve them of their winnings is his own personal talent.
in the end, it doesn't matter. high ranks get a lot of service items, and it's been a long time since he's been hurting for money--an odd thing to realize. it's more that he's hurting for other things, but that's a recognition he's not going to admit.
still, petulant, he folds his arms against his chest as he takes a step back, leading. )
You gonna fuck the machine, or me? Come on, we're eating. ( a puff of smoke past his lips, amused and leading. ) You're a shit date, you know.
no subject
Date: 7/17/25 02:34 (UTC)touya could have been an amazing hero.
he wanted to be one originally, right? screw what plans endeavor had for him, touya himself had those dreams. a lot of kids in his class told him his quirk was way more suited to being a villain, teased him over what his villainous origin story would be. before he smashed them into the wall and crowed his intention of being the greatest hero.
how many times has he left touya's presence in this place and found himself staring at his own hand. lingering warmth from the man's touch seeped in his skin as a tattoo. chest throbbing a repaired heart within his ribs, knowing he wants to save him from his hellish insanity... it's too late. skeletal whispers catch his mind, dragging down to regret with no hope. it's never too late. fuck those whispers. he left a fist-shaped hole in the wall.
kind of like how he wants to leave a damn fist in the machine dinging in front of him! whiplashing between rage over loss and elation over winning. a fleeting moment of victory blanks out everything else save for himself and touya. hey, he pulled the stupid lever too. a moment shatters in glass, transformed to memory as he stands up.]
Huh. Damn. [he's never won large, but never left in a negative either. always did "well" on average. then kills the arcade as his personal stomping ground.] Che, of course you know how to count cards.
[sharp blue eyes, walled disposition, poker face of any flavor, smart as fuck. touya has much going for him here. taking advantage of drunk people is one part lame, one part hilarious.
muscle stretches in his arms as he lifts them over his head, one hand gripping his elbow and pulling it down to the side like an excavator digging towards his spine. pull... pull... and pops his shoulder, even if it sounds more akin to a snap from the volume. feel-good sensation runs lava through his arm to his fingers as they go limp for a few seconds. fuck, he'd needed that for several minutes now.]
What? [taunting voice, dropping arm, moving after him as his lips quirk in a half grin.] Ya really were jealous of that machine. [feet careful not to step on his partner's, he invades the taller man's space, leaning in close. a shit date, huh?] Liar. I'm one of the best dates we'll ever have. I'll look only at you for the rest of the night.
[before slowing his steps just enough to put some space between them and avoid tripping all over each other. no more slot machine distractions. touya's his main focus now.]
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Date: 7/30/25 20:48 (UTC)it's funny, really, to think about. looking at that class of hero students, he knows that bakugou is likely one of the most popular: that he might not call them all friends, but that they'd likely want to call him that all the same. and what is he, compared to that? just some reject in a melting meat sack, too empty to get close to anyone, too jaded to even try. sex is, and always has been, different, but the dates and outings and fun things that bakugou does here probably keeps him busy enough that he feels fulfilled.
it's one of the first times he's really thought about whether it's a good idea, or not: whether he should be putting more space between him and bakugou, as though the kid deserves better opportunities. deserves to be surrounded by good people, people who want him, people who probably light up at the mention of being a hero.
with a faint, lingering smile, he snubs out the cigarette against his arm, flicks the butt away as they walk. )
Don't make promises you can't keep. You're gonna have to look at your video games if you wanna play them.
( besides, it's a little selfish of him to be demanding attention on someone else's birthday--but then he's never really denied being that conceited. even if it's just for their little walk to the restaurant, it feels good to be looked at, even briefly. )
Do you want to learn? Card counting and shit. ( since they're near the restaurant, he doesn't light up again just yet, though both of his hands sink down into his pockets, casual, as they walk. )
I know you probably think it's cheating or whatever, but. If you're ever in a pinch, let me know. Easy way to make some money, and fuck this place, honestly.
( a sniff of breath, almost a bemused laugh, before his gaze slides to bakugou. ) Guessing we can't sit at the bar, huh? Or do they not care about how old you are? Don't think I've ever noticed them kicking anyone out or whatever.
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Date: 8/7/25 14:04 (UTC)whether the man believes him or not, truth is, touya's a unique experience in his life, no matter what they do together.
walking beside him kicks up thoughts and feeling like disturbed silt in his mind. for as unapproachable and disgusting as touya makes himself out to be, for all his shit attitude, he's liked here. what was his status in the league? some of the members saw him as a friend even if he saw them as nothing more than expendable tools to further his own ambition. a burned and blackened heart still beats no matter how much touya wants to think he's beyond it, or not worth it. people still care about him. in a way, they're similar, neither interested in getting close to other people, but other people don't give a shit about their interest and shove themselves into their lives regardless. has touya found a life worth living here? if he can forget about his revenge for a few minutes... hmph, foolish though. might as well ask if he's content here by forgetting about heroics. this place can't fulfill either of them.
and yet... red eyes linger aside, watching touya's burnt, lanky figure drift next to him... perhaps in another life.
as damning as it is, he realizes he's one of those who put himself in touya's life and refuses to leave. could've left him alone from day one, dismissed him as a villain and irredeemable worthless trash. now he's going on a date with him, he's slept with him, he's spent time with him. hell, an eternal promise to come to touya whenever he needs him was forged by his own words. he can't save him, no one can, not in the way a hero would think of "saving" someone, but he can stand beside him as long as possible. even if it pisses the guy off, his hand's open.]
I don't. [stubborn.] I'll watch your reflection in the glass. [nar har har.]
[selfish? he's the one who wanted touya's presence as his birthday present. demanding attention from someone who wants his attention as well is mutual conceit. yeah, half the promise taunts him for being jealous of a slot machine; doesn't mean a lie followed.]
Aa. [surprising.] This place is a fucking cheat half the time anyways. [should he tell touya he learned some magic tricks and sleight of hand from
maho ahoatsuhiro before the magician returned home? maybe later. sore subject. considering he swiped stolen purses and credit cards from some shitty villains while obliterating them with explosions at the same time, safe to say he's already got some quick hands and eyes for this kinda sharking. and he has no love for the peacock. plus, knowing how to do it means he can tell if someone else is doing it to him.] Don't regret it later if I kick your ass at cards.[DAMMIT!! thought they were through with this shitty age mockery! take a knee to your thigh, asshole! aggressive nudging!] I CAN SIT WHEREVER I FUCKING WANT!! [get in the restaurant! he can be his smoking ass he's stomping right up to said bar and plunking his own butt down on a stool out of pure pride/spite!]
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Date: 8/13/25 19:58 (UTC)he moves up to the stool beside bakugou's, shifting himself up onto the seat--his hand gropes down into his pocket for his cigarettes, dumping the package onto the counter, dragging in one of the nearby ashtrays. )
Order whatever you want and I'll have the same. No fish.
( but rather than give bakugou a moment to think, he lifts the hand nearest him to flag down the bartender, at least--and orders them two more glasses of fireball, because that's what bakugou's decided they're drinking today, so that's all they're going to have.
his lips curve into a smile of amusement, faint, as the bartender returns back with their glasses: he nudges one towards bakugou, and picks up his own to take an immediate swallow. )
You feel like a big boy now? ( teasing, as he tilts to look at him--but his gaze flicks over bakugou's head, and one of his arms slides out over bakugou's shoulders, fingertips sliding down his back, pressing in low as though in possessive fervor; in reality, his chin nudges up, teasing, because: )
She's here to take your order, sweetheart. ( a little smugly, as the other staff behind the bar leans closer to bakugou to do just that. )
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Date: 8/14/25 14:28 (UTC)no comment to touya's cigarettes. worse part is, some insane sliver in his mind niggles at him to try one. he's breathed in smoke before! during fights, during fires, and it hasn't murdered him. what harm's one or two puffs gonna do? ... yeah shut the fuck up.]
Don't like it? [damn, that's kinda cute.]
[wait- ALL THEY CAN HAVE IS A FIREBALL?! who the hell decided that?! touya! damn right he's slamming down two orders of water in addition because fuck that! ... but he still picks up the glass and lifts it to his lips. this time, at least, he doesn't have such a visceral reaction to it. if those sharp aqua eyes are watching, the corner of his mouth twitches slightly as flavor goes down. nope, not a fan yet.]
Bitch, I'm a man. [eyes right on him as if he's gonna stamp those words on his choppy-banged forehead. he quirks a brow at the arm around his shoulders, and there's no hiding his muscles tensing beneath touya's fingers in a downward trail. a far different tensing than he was while getting dragged into a portal long ago. fuck. his face isn't pink! it's the fireball! shut up! buddy, you bet he's glaring daggers.]
Katsudon. Spices on the side.
[no hesitation there. touya can handle fire well enough, but giving him the lava shits? yeah he'll let his date make the decision for himself. maybe he's being petty, or stubborn, but he keeps his eyes on the other man even as he orders. probably easily passed off as some kind of game or "domestic" issue. or a dare he intends to win.
but two more seconds of his hand on his back and-] Shoulda got a fucking booth. [grumble]
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Date: 8/20/25 19:57 (UTC)Katsudon, like he said. ( to the staff, who disappears once the order is placed.
glazed with amusement, his eyes slide back to bakugou's stare. no reason to look anywhere else, really, when he has what he wants right here: an idle breath of smoke out from the seam of his mouth, his free hand lifting, elbow digging into the bar to drag the cigarette from his lips and tap a little ash out into the tray.
how many more years are they going to have here, together? even by his worst calculations, bakugou can't be turning more than seventeen, or eighteen if he's being entirely generous; is he going to make it to twenty, locked in this hellhole? a part of him feels agitated by the thought of it, as though he knows just as well as he's sure bakugou knows that they'll both go stir crazy if they're locked in this resort for a few more years. no progress to be made, a stalemate on a war that he doesn't know the end to: more time for his family to live out there, in the real world, without him getting his justified revenge.
with a short swallow, he leaves his cigarette pressed between his knuckles, reaching for his glass for another burning swallow. better to numb out all those feelings before they start to really bother him. )
You really wanna stare at me while I eat that bad? ( teasingly, against bakugou's resolute grumbling about a booth--but firmly, his other hand is still at bakugou's back, fingers splayed, idly brushing up and down at the small of his back. )
It's fucking awkward, you know. Can't tell if it's better or worse when sloppy couples decide to sit side by side in a booth instead. It's all lame, isn't it? ( a breath through his nose, tinged with amusement. ) Cringe.
( yet here they are, side by side, with his arm still curled up around bakugou's back like someone will really come in and take him. )
Maybe I'm just the wrong audience for that kind of shit. Meals were never-- ( --a good time in that hell house, he finds himself wanting to say, but the fact that he's just so easily willing to talk about his former life, with bakugou, makes his stomach clench in displeasure. maybe it's the liquor or something, or the fact that it feels like they're in their own quiet little bubble, here.
either way, he chooses to fill his mouth with downing the rest of his glass. a flick of his fingers to the bartender for a refill. ) Whatever. It's not romantic.
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Date: 8/26/25 15:56 (UTC)lips purse around a silent exhale, punching through his idle serpent of smoke. a different kind of scent. touya always smells a little of smoke, something burning or burnt. leather, skin, hair, cloth, cigarettes, wood. long since used to it, his aggression settles in a growling contentment whenever he breathes it in. touya's unique...
you know why he hates his birthday in this fucking shithole? because it's a tick on the damn calendar of imprisonment, his own weakness and failure rubbed in his face. touya's been here even long, six to eight months before him. pisses him off to see the man trapped in the same state. some part of him should find it hilarious, point and laugh the man who kidnapped and held him prisoner with his band of misfits is locked away inside the same cage. he wants to... he can't. anger flares up instead, as if slamming his fists into a wall that won't move. neither of them can accomplish their goals in this golden crap shot. how long does he have to wait knowing all for one is two seconds from tearing all might in half, knowing he's the only thing keeping a mad child from fusing with another mad child and obliterating everything. sitting here eating and drinking while his world hangs in suspended war.
he's snapped from distraction, red eyes fluttering once as touya's arm moves and shakes his thoughts. hmph, right. think on that shit later. there's something better to focus on right now. his arm drops from his cheek and snags his drink. instead of tilting a peer inside, he lifts the glass to one eye, touya's image inverted and half-submerged.]
Can't decide if I like your pout or smirk better. [smirk. definitely. making no motion to press away from his hand. his palm's heel, his fingers' tips, each slow motion up and down draws lazy patterns on his skin. nerves prickle and definitions flex instinctively, half of him wanting his shirt hiked up so skin on skin takes over, the other half reluctantly stays down.]
Sitting across from someone can feels like a damn war premonition. [especially in his own home, where his mom and he could get into arguments at the spark of a match. his lips quirk, unsure if he's grinning or frowning. be easier to keep his promise of eyes on touya in a booth, but pride keeps him at the bar. part of him wants to scoot his stool closer and lean into him. stupid arm encouraging fuzzy thoughts he stomps down inside.
touya's so caught up in his life before, each new memory and topic dunked in or screened through his blackened past. the past never dies, but to become so saturated in it the future can't exist except within it... fabric shifts, his body moves, one hand dropping to rest over touay's hand and ensuring it stays around his waist as he leans over and presses his lips on his temple. spiky strands of hair poke into his face and cheek, soft despite some brittle ends. i know. he hates it. for all his strength, he can't pull this man from his past or budge him from his damned course. but he doesn't have to let him walk it alone. fight, argue, bitter, confusion, bring it on. childish, yeah, but dammit if he won't make their meals together good times. so long as he can stay with touya until the day they both return home to face their fates.]
Next time, we can eat on the bed like slobs. I'll deal with the crumbs. [murmured into his skin. he nuzzles his mouth to his head in a small "shove" to
love ontease him. then sinks back down in his seat. it's not romantic or anything.](no subject)
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