Chapter Text
Hitoshi jerkily undid his bowtie, as the brown liquid in his glass swirled around a ball of ice. From his seat at the bar, he could see Denki searching the room for where he'd gone. He should probably go back over there, but he really just wanted to watch. The evening had not began smoothly; he'd managed to fuck just about everything up, but this, watching Denki... he couldn't fuck up watching Denki if he tried. He was an expert at it, adept at taking in details quickly when he had to, and living for nights like these when he could really take his time and observe without the other knowing.
Hitoshi knew everything about the blonde and could quite literally read him from across the room. He knew every twitch of his shoulders when he was uncomfortable, every arch of his back when he really laughed at something. Denki was currently dressed in a freshly tailored suit, expensive black fabric hugging his slender frame flatteringly. His bright, usually shaggy hair was pulled partway out of his face his face and secured in back with bobby pins, only a few golden strands left to hang freely. For Denki, it was actually a pretty tame look, other than the bright yellow vest peeking out from under his jacket.
They were at a celebratory banquet to honor Denki and his team's latest success. He had pulled off an extremely tough mission, saving countless lives. He'd taken some time off to recover afterwards, and he looked well-rested and practically radiant tonight. Hitoshi, apparently, wasn't the only one to think so...
He looked on as a short, dark-haired man approached the blonde with something inaudible, his hand outstretched before gesturing to the dancefloor. The other just shook his head with a smile, probably gracefully declining an invitation to dance. Hitoshi smirked over his glass, before downing the whole thing in one go. Denki had asked him to dance earlier in the evening. He'd actually asked that they dance at this event weeks ago. Hell, Denki Kaminari had been trying to dance with him since that first conversation at UA seven years ago, but dancing was something he just didn't do, kind of like banquets.
Hitoshi had almost backed out of the soiree several times, including just as the car had arrived to pick them up from their shared apartment earlier in the evening. After staring at his slightly wrinkled tux and unruly hair in the mirror for entirely too long, he had come into the living room ready to give an excuse and back out. He was an underground hero, after all. He didn't go out to parties. He didn't go out at all. More than anything, he wanted to tell Denki he'd changed his mind, that he was staying home, but when he'd spotted him standing by the doorway, glowing like a thousand volts, it was all he could do to school his face and say, "Let's get this over with."
Despite how petulant he was being about the whole thing, Hitoshi was extremely proud of his best friend/roommate. He'd always known he was a great hero who deserved praise, deserved the whole world. He just didn't know what he had to do with it, a lanky purple shadow struggling to make small talk all night, a stain on the evening, a dark spot on the sun.
Denki had accepted his medal graciously, all eyes on him from the moment he had entered the building. Then, he'd introduced Hitoshi to, what felt like, a thousand people. Drained and frustrated, the mind-hero had snuck away while the other was distracted. He'd needed a minute to recharge, to just watch.
And so, here he was, sipping his second drink and watching the blonde turn down yet another suitor from his seat at the banquet bar. Denki had gotten looks and offers from others all night, and Hitoshi had honestly felt a bit awkward, but Denki just kept politely rejecting everyone else and dragging him along. Even now, he was craning his neck, tiptoeing over others, desperately looking for his violet-haired companion.
Purple eyes studied him as a woman with blue-ish skin and green hair approached. Denki and Hitoshi had been roommates for four years, ever since graduation; and while Hitoshi had never agreed to go to one of the other's work functions before now, Denki had yapped his ear off about his co-workers to the point Hitoshi felt he knew them. That's how he knew this woman's hero name was Jasper. Apparently, she brought really smelly lunches to heat up in the break room. The girl congratulated Denki and moved on, before another, much taller woman approached. Hitoshi considered her: four arms, spiky hair, it was... "Mantra," he mumbled.
"What was that, sir?" the bartender asked.
"I'll have another," he clarified.
"Yes, sir."
Hitoshi continued to observe the electric hero enchant a room full of people, until a certain man approached that seemed to make the blonde stiffen slightly. This man had soft-looking brown hair and tan skin, golden eyes even more vivid than Denki's. Hitoshi knew, even from this distance, that he carried a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, that he liked two sugars in his coffee. He knew all of this because Denki had spoken so much of his man at home. He'd gushed about him, actually... about how sweet he was, how funny he was, how handsome he was. Hitoshi knew exactly who this douche bag was.
He clanked his third glass down a little too heavily. "Arata," he grumbled, before pushing himself away from the bar and standing on slightly unsteady feet. The room jerked and burned away at the edges as he traveled through a sea of glittering gowns and custom suits. He approached Denki and Denki's favorite co-worker as they were laughing about something and came to a stop next to the blonde, mildly attempting to conceal his disgust.
"Oh Hitoshi, there you are!" Denki laugh-yelled, "Where have you been?"
"I was grabbing a drink," he answered casually, before turning to look the other man up and down. He was on the taller side, only a couple inches shorter than Hitoshi. He forced a pained smile and asked, "Who's this?"
"This is Arata," Denki beamed, "from my agency. Arata, this is Hitoshi."
"Hello," Hitoshi greeted dryly, outstretching his hand.
"Oh wow, it's great to meet you, Hitoshi," Arata told him eagerly, as he clasped the offered hand in both hands. I've heard so much about you from Denki here, I feel like I already know you!"
"Is that so?" Hitoshi asked in a dull tone, "and what is it you do at the agency?"
"What are you talking about?" Denki asked, confused, "I talk about my work bestie all the time."
"I'm in Human Resources," the ember-eyed man answered cheerfully.
"Yeah, he knows that," Denki laughed, raising an eyebrow at his friend, "Dude, this is Arata."
Hitoshi suppressed a burp, as he swayed ever so slightly. "Oh."
"He's the guy who brought a fishing pole and an actual jar of earthworms into the office last week, remember?" Denki explained with a huge grin, "Some girl found them in the breakroom fridge. It was so freakin' funny."
"I was going fishing after work," Arata laughed in response, "I didn't want them getting too hot in the car."
"And then you had to go to your own department to get scolded!"
Both men laughed happily, two sunbeams in a room full of gray. Hitoshi grayly glared between them, annoyed frown on his face. "Oh yeah, the worm guy."
Denki stopped laughing to shoot him a look, but Arata just kept on smiling. "I'm happy to hear Denks talks about me outside of work."
Oh, fuck no. Nobody but Hitoshi called him that. "I'm ready to go," he snapped, his voice slurring just the slightest bit.
"Oh, already?" Denki asked, trying to surpress the disappointment in his voice.
"I'm exhausted," he told him honestly. This sort of thing just wasn't for him.
"Alright, we can go," Denki agreed, turning to grin at Arata, "I'll see you at the office tomorrow."
"I'll see you," Arata answered fondly, before wrapping his arm around Denki's shoulders. He dropped his voice lower as he added, "Think about what I said."
Hitoshi was still gritting his teeth as they walked into their apartment almost an hour later. He'd been stewing in silent guilt the entire car ride. "I told you I wouldn't be good at parties," he mumbled as they removed their shoes, "You should've invited someone else."
"Hey, I had a good time," Denki promised him, placing his hand on Hitoshi's shoulder, "and I invited exactly who I wanted to." His honey eyes were vulnerable and open as he promised this, face a little too close.
Hitoshi's shoulder stiffened slightly under the warm hand. "You looked really nice tonight, Denks."
"You really think so?" Denki asked, eyes kind of wide as they darted unconsciously downwards.
Hitoshi chuckled softly, his face only a few inches from the other's. "Is that a rhetorical question? Do you know how many open-mouthed stares you got tonight?"
Denki giggled. "I'll have to take your word for it. I wasn't really paying attention." He leaned in just the tiniest bit closer. "Thank you."
Hitoshi felt his neck tighten at the shrinking distance between them, but he kept his face neutral. He wasn't great with anyone in close proximity, but Denki always set his nerves on fire. He felt the sudden urge to lean away before his inebriated hands did something stupid. "I'm honestly surprised you didn't get any drunken work confessions."
Denki grinned, oblivious to the other's rising tension. "I actually did get asked out tonight.." he commented offhandedly, before taking a bold step forward, putting them basically chest-to-chest. He reached a finger out to the top of Hitoshi's white dress shirt, lightly tracing it where cloth met collarbone. "This shirt is nice," he commented cutely, big eyes feigning innocence.
Hitoshi wasn't surprised that someone had hit on him, but he felt a possessive chill run up his spine all the same. "Who was it?" he asked, ignoring the complement.
The blonde thoughtlessly shivered at the stern tone. "Who was what?" he asked, finger now fiddling with a button.
Hitoshi gently grabbed the other's chin and tilted it upwards. "Who asked you out tonight, Denki?"
"Guess," Denki grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
Hitoshi knew exactly who it was. He rolled his eyes but played along. "Diamond Steel?" he pretended to guess.
"Nope."
"The water chick?"
"God no!"
"Hmm.." Hitoshi noticed a slight blush on the other's cheeks, which inexplicably irritated him further. "Tell me it wasn't worm guy."
Denki's smile dropped, along with his hands, and he took a step back. "His name is Arata. He's actually a really nice guy. He asked me out for this Saturday."
That was only two days away. Hitoshi's heart beat rapidly, as he willed his mouth not to say something he'd regret. He'd been in love with Denki for the entire seven years he'd known him but had never considered that the other could reciprocate. There had been a time, back in UA, when he'd almost let himself believe he had a chance. Then, the blonde had started dating someone. Then, he dated someone else, then another person. He'd gone on a lot of dates over the years, none of them with Hitoshi. "You gonna go?" he asked, "Maybe he'll bring you a bouquet of cockroaches."
"What's your issue with him?" Denki demanded, happy expression completely gone.
"Maybe I just don't like him," Hitoshi replied shortly. He knew he wasn't being very eloquent, or very fair, but he was hurt, he was tired, and he was not in to mood to talk about Mr. Wonderful.
"Yeah, you made that really clear tonight," Denki scolded.
"Think I hurt his feelings?" Hitoshi could feel himself going to that dark, defensive place he desperately tried to avoid.
"Honestly probably not," Denki shot back, "he's a really sweet, happy guy. It'd take more than your bad attitude to ruin his night."
Hitoshi's heart was breaking, but his demeanor remained nonchalant. "Perfect, so why does it matter what I think of him?"
"Because you have no reason to dislike him!" They shared a small silence, both breathing a little hard, until Denki's face suddenly turned suspicious. "I mean, unless you're jealous."
Full panic mode activated, Hitoshi felt his usually schooled face flush hot. Caught off-guard and still kinda drunk, he opened his mouth to respond, then clicked it shut. Denki's smile grew Grinch-like.
"You are, aren't you?" he teased, "You're jealous of me having a date with him."
Hitoshi needed out of this ASAP. "Do I need to be jealous to think he sucks?"
"But you are!" Denki declared in victory, smiling ear-to-ear now.
Hitoshi could feel his pulse in his chest and down the side of his neck, flickering frantically in time with the light behind Denki's eyes. Was he about to laugh at him? Deep down, he knew better, but he still remembered being back in grade school, enduring nonstop rejection and ridicule for his villainous quirk. He swallowed thickly, left at a rare loss for words.
"Look at your cute little red cheeks!" the other continued, seemingly drunk on his newfound knowledge, "You never blush."
Hitoshi was genuinely worried he may pass out, vision blurring as he drown in panic and insecurity. "Denki-..."
"You know," Denki teased in a sing-song voice, "if you wanna confess, you better do it before Saturday." He finished with a dopey wink.
Hitoshi clenched his fists at his sides. "I'm not jealous," he snapped in an ugly tone, "I'm just not interested in your boring co-workers." It felt like he was hearing it come from someone else's mouth, helpless to stop himself. "Last I checked, we were friends and roommates, so don't involve me in your fucking love life."
It was mean and uncalled for, and Hitoshi wanted to take it all back as soon as he'd said it, but it was too late. Denki's eyes were heartbreakingly wet, bottom lip quivering slightly. "Fuck you," he said, voice small and shaky, before retreating quickly to his room, leaving Hitoshi standing in the dimly lit entryway.