As they stand together, newly clad in pajamas, over the desk of supplies, Shouto’s eyes are drawn to the face masks. If Uraraka packed them, it would be rude to not at least try them out. He notices that one of them is honey, and he reaches over to tap his fingertips on the packaging. “Honey,” he comments, “You want this one, right?”

Midoriya blinks down at Shouto’s hand that sits atop the face mask. “Why do you think so?”

Shouto blanches. “No reason,” he manages, and then he clears his throat. “Just—your chapstick.”

For a moment Midoriya looks confused, but he quickly puts all the pieces together and takes the honey mask from beneath Shouto’s fingers.

“You’re observant,” Midoriya says with a slight smile, and Shouto’s mouth feels dry. Did Uraraka include any water?

In Shouto’s absent moment, Midoriya picks up the other face mask—green tea—and pushes it into Shouto’s palm. He mumbles a thank you before he glances down at the package, and then looks towards the door to Midoriya’s bathroom.

Midoriya apparently notices his looking and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he speaks, “The bathroom is pretty small, for both of us to be in there at once. We could… uh, we could put them on each other?”

“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “Sure.”

Before long, they’re sat together on Midoriya’s bed again, but this time knee-to-knee. Midoriya holds his hand out, fingers curled for just a moment before he reveals the hair clips that rest in his palm.

“I have these, ‘cause sometimes when I’m studying, my hair gets in my face. Ashido-san gave me them. I figured we could—it would be easier to get our hair out of the way,” Midoriya explains, nudging his hand forward in the air, coaxing Shouto to take one of the clips.

Shouto doesn’t say anything as he takes a clip from Midoriya’s palm; he just wills his fingers not to shake. Midoriya watches as Shouto runs his fingers up through his own hair and secures the clip at the top of his head, but his gaze diverts when Shouto’s eyes flicker up to him.

Shouto’s scar isn’t anything Midoriya hasn’t seen in its entirety before, but still—he feels incredibly vulnerable like this. He’s sure it isn’t pretty to look at.

But Midoriya follows Shouto’s lead and clips his own hair back, smiling tentatively at Shouto after he’s done so. He looks younger, somehow, with his hair out of his face. Shouto just runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he looks from Midoriya and down to his green tea mask.

“Who’s first?” he inquires, flicking absently at the packaging.

“I can—put it on you first?” Midoriya suggests, outstretching his hand before him and prompting Shouto to pass his mask over to him.

Shouto complies easily, though his throat feels tight. Will he shy away from the scar? Is he secretly repulsed by the red, permanently damaged skin? Maybe Shouto should mention just avoiding the scar in general before Midoriya has to worry about it…

And then suddenly, Midoriya is looking at Shouto with soft eyes and he’s saying that it’s a little cold, Todoroki-kun, but Shouto can’t do anything in response but watch Midoriya’s hand as he lifts it up to Shouto’s face, up to the left side of his forehead.

“Do you mind if I…?” Midoriya’s hand hovers just above Shouto’s scarred skin.

Shouto clears his throat. “Yeah, you can—uh, go ahead.”

The skin that Midoriya presses onto is long numb, nerve endings lost years and years ago and never recovered. He’s gentle though, careful as he spreads the mask mixture over Shouto’s forehead and then over his temple and down his cheek. The smell of green tea is pleasant, though tiptoeing the line between overpowering and not.

Shouto watches Midoriya’s face as Midoriya concentrates on layering the cool substance over Shouto’s face, careful not to get any in his eyebrows or too close to his eyes. He traces the curve of Shouto’s jaw and down the bridge of his nose, tapping between his eyebrows and above his upper lip.

This is intimate, Shouto thinks intrusively. Internally, he sputters—tries not to think about how Midoriya might touch him in the same soft, gentle way if the circumstances were just a little different.

“And…” Midoriya trails, swiping his finger over Shouto’s chin. “Done!”

Shouto lets out a breath; the mask feels heavy on his face though not in the same way Midoriya’s fingers had moments before. He’s sure he looks ridiculous, yet for some reason, he doesn’t care.

Midoriya hands his own packaging over to Shouto, and he tears it open to see the pale orangish honey mixture inside. He dips a finger into it before lifting his hand to Midoriya’s face, hesitating for just a moment before smearing it on his cheek. Midoriya inhales sharply at the contact, and Shouto looks at him curiously.

“Cold,” Midoriya supplies sheepishly.

Shouto hums his acknowledgement, low and quietly enough that he can’t be absolutely sure that Midoriya hears it at all.

Soon thereafter, Midoriya’s eyes flutter closed. His eyelashes brush down against his cheeks, and Shouto pays extra attention to avoiding them with the face mask. His freckles disappear under the opaque honey mixture.

And he can’t help but think, as he’s tracing just around Midoriya’s mouth, what would happen if they kissed.

No, Shouto decides.

“Okay,” he says, “All finished.”

Midoriya then reads off of the back of one of the packets that they’re supposed to leave the masks on for fifteen minutes.

The fifteen minutes are spent mundanely, each of the boys scrolling on their phones until Midoriya suggests taking a picture to send to Uraraka.

But then they’re faced with the dilemma of just how they’re going to wash these masks off.

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