i’m a bit late, but happy birthday shoto!
🐍 ♡ 🍰
“sho.”
“hm?”
a gentle hand starts carding through his hair. shoto curls further into it, into the solid line of warmth pressed against his entire left side.
he’s drifting, limbs heavy from a rare peaceful night of sleep. the hand in his hair pauses. tugs a little.
“oi. don’t fall back asleep.”
shoto makes a vaguely disgruntled sound. that voice is familiar, dearly so. the kind of voice that sends shivers down shoto’s spine, that he’s spent dreams and nightmares alike chasing.
“touya-nii,” shoto mumbles, and finally opens his eyes.
he sees nothing but fabric, white and blue and pale gray. okay, fine.
it’s awful, as shoto slowly drags himself upright, but at least the door and window are closed, so it’s dim enough. shoji don’t really keep out much light.
the hand, touya’s hand, falls from shoto’s head only to relocate to his nape. shoto hums low and happy at the sensation, blinking the drowsiness from his eyes.
touya’s blurry form solidifies, all pale whites and dark scars. he’s got a subtle smirk on his face as he watches shoto wake up, some mix of amused and fond and exasperated. like he isn’t ten times harder to wake up on a good day.
shoto swallows his building yawn. he’s been a morning person for as long as he can remember, but after the war, he’s indulged more and more in sleeping in. he figures he has that luxury now, that he’s allowed it.
“finally awake?” touya teases.
“yeah.” shoto rubs his eyes, stretches the best he can without dislodging touya’s hand. “good morning.”
he resists the incredible urge to pitch sideways until his forehead butts touya’s shoulder, and settles for rearranging his limbs to sit cross-legged. he doesn’t ask why touya woke him up, reluctant as he was to get up. touya’s still sleep-rumpled and soft, sheets pooled around his thighs; shoto can’t complain.
touya’s hand slides back up into shoto’s hair, petting absently at the back of his dual-toned head. “morning,” he says. his smirk deepens. “come here.”
shoto raises a silent eyebrow but obeys the light guiding pressure of touya’s palm and leans forward. shoto steadies himself on touya’s sweatpant-clad thigh and melts into the kiss his brother pulls him into.
it is, quite honestly, mind blowing every single time. not that their kisses are intense and passion-filled every time, though that’s pretty often, but just… any kind of kiss with touya sets shoto’s blood on fire in a way he never feels from anyone or anything else.
adrenaline is one thing, his quirk is one thing. this is an entirely different feeling. shoto loves it.
shoto shuffles closer, free hand carefully sliding beneath touya’s shirt, feeling all the still-healing skin, the rough texture of it. the familiar heat.
touya sighs against shoto’s lips, goes willingly when shoto gently pushes to settle overtop of him, never once breaking the connection.
shoto tries not to let his surprise show at how docile touya is being, and instead simply lets himself enjoy it. he cradles touya’s bare shoulder blades and kisses him deeper into the pillow when he shivers.
their breaths are both heavier when they pull apart, and shoto immediately turns his head to press their cheeks together, take a deep, steadying breath while his heart rate slows back down.
shoto pulls back, slides one hand away to support himself. touya’s arms are draped over his shoulders, but he slides them down to hold shoto’s waist when their eyes meet. he’s smiling, something small and soft that teases at his eyes, hair fanned out, patched skin flushed a light shade of red.
he’s beautiful.
shoto breathes through the awe, through the ache tightening in his chest at how peaceful touya looks. “what was that for?”
“i wonder,” touya drawls. then, he grins. “happy birthday, shoto.”
shoto blinks. his lips part.
touya looks like he’s really enjoying the fact that shoto forgot about his own birthday.
“oh,” shoto says. swallows. “so, can we keep kissing?”
touya’s grip tightens momentarily at shoto’s hips, something indecipherable flashing across his face. it’s gone in the next second, replaced by lidded, happy eyes.
happy.
“yeah, sure.” dismissive, but he’s relaxed, willing.
their noses brush, and then, softer, against shoto’s lips: “anything for the birthday boy.”
