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Tenya learns early that Shouto has hangups with touch.
Honestly, he knew that before they started tentatively dating, and it’s not like he’s normal about touch either. But Tenya himself mostly struggles with overthinking his own actions until he’s nauseous with it, and with the fact that his tolerance for it can drop to near-zero if he’s stressed or over-tired.
Shouto, though. Shouto’s relationship with touch can only be described as fraught.
He reaches out for casual ones like it’s water in the desert. He leans into the arm Uraraka throws over his shoulder. He moves easily with Midoriya’s hands as he corrects his stance in training. He lists slowly to the side when he and Tenya are watching movies together and presses their clothed arms together, lets their fingers slide together when Tenya hands him a water bottle or a pencil.
But bare skin, sometimes, sends Shouto flinching. And then he looks so angry at himself about it, and looks to Tenya like he expects him to be angry, too.
One of those movie night ends with them both falling asleep, Tenya slumped over the arm of the couch with his glasses askew and Shouto tucked under his arm with his head on Tenya’s chest. Tenya doesn’t know how much time passes before Shouto is gasping awake and shoving himself upright, frantically away from Tenya, and then off the couch.
Tenya is so surprised he almost cracks his glasses. Shouto smacks the back of his head so hard against the table that it rattles.
They talk, as Tenya wraps an ice pack in cloth and carefully holds it against Shouto’s head.
He says, “It really is alright.”
“It’s not,” Shouto responds, his eyes glued to the floor. “I’m a headcase and it’s not getting better.”
“You aren't a headcase, don't speak about yourself that way. And it is okay, I understand. I’ve already told you that I’m also not interested in—” says Tenya, because that was a conversation they had very early on, but Shouto cuts him off.
“This isn’t like that. This is something I want.” His voice breaks like spun glass. “I just can’t.”
The whole situation does very specific things to Tenya’s chest, and makes him want to do things like place Shouto someplace very soft with a number of things he likes, and also drop kick anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way off of a very high building.
This is not what Tenya’s therapist would classify as “constructive thoughts” for many reasons, not the least of which is that Tenya knows Shouto wouldn’t appreciate it.
So, instead, Tenya does what he does best. He takes notes, and he finds solutions.
(“I like actionable items,” Tenya tells Uraraka, and pretends she isn’t laughing into her hands at him.)
This isn’t a hardship. Tenya loves spending time with Shouto. Shouto is a wonderfully easy person to spend time with. He wants to do it all the time.
He just starts taking special notice of certain things.
Shouto usually likes holding hands, as long as their fingers are actively entwined. He likes it when Tenya puts a hand on his shoulder. He likes putting his chin on Tenya’s shoulder, or on his head, when he’s studying.
He doesn’t like it when Tenya touches his face, or goes anywhere near his scar.
He has a hard time with extended, skin-to-skin contact (he will wiggle his hand away if they’re holding them for more than 10 minutes or so). He doesn’t seem to like it when he thinks someone else could have total control of the touching, or when he's not expecting it. Tenya figure that those two things in combination are why he so often wakes up scared when they doze off together.
It’s not hard to come up with a solution for that.
Tenya begins their next movie night by tossing a blanket around Shouto. Shouto allows this to happen, and then blinks up at him from the burrito. A piece of red hair falls over the part into the white.
It is almost criminally cute. Tenya wishes he could take a picture, but that would probably be disrespectful.
“Why?” asks Shouto, wonderfully blunt as always.
Tenya shrugs. “Maybe you seemed cold.”
He wrinkles his nose, and then makes ice crystalize in his bangs. He doesn’t bother saying anything—just stares up at Tenya.
“Yes, yes, I know, you’re extremely funny.” Tenya rolls his eyes and sits down on the couch next to him. He fiddles with the remote.
They’ve been watching through a series of brainless heist movies from a list Shinsou put together. None of them are particularly cinematic masterpieces, but Shouto’s taste in media leans toward the “fun and mindless” more often than not and Tenya likes making Shouto happy.
They settle in as the opening car chase starts.
Tenya pulls his legs up under him. He really is pretty sure this will work.
He sinks down sideways so that his head is on Shouto’s lap, right over the blanket.
Shouto makes a surprised sound.
“Comfortable?” asks Tenya.
“I—” says Shouto. “Yes.”
“Great. Me, too.”
On the screen, the head thief tells his right hand man that they need to recruit someone with a Copy quirk. Shouto hums, already absorbed again, and murmurs, “Like Monoma.” Tenya snorts.
His hand finds its way to Tenya’s hair and rests there. Tenya leans into it.
It’s not long before they both doze off.
Tenya awakens hours later with Shouto’s fingers tangled gently in his hair.