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Aizawa watched as Izuku packed, moving between his room and the living room and the kitchen, while Bakugou stood in the dining room obviously holding himself back from glaring. Izuku didn’t look at either of them, his eyes sliding past them as he walked back and forth, unable to pick a single room and just focus his efforts there.
Aizawa looked sharply at Bakugou, at the way he watched Izuku move, at the not-quite-flinch every time Izuku packed something away in a box, at the way his eyes followed Izuku through the house. He’d seen that look before.
In a mirror.
Bakugou watched Izuku like he was losing the most precious thing in the world, and he didn’t dare move or speak because anything he did would just speed up the loss.
In a flash, Aizawa saw Bakugou’s future: Living here, working with Izuku, and coming home to an empty house every night, slowly growing lonely and resentful and bitter until he snapped.
He knew that was Bakugou’s future because, without Eri, it would have been his.
Neither Bakugou nor Izuku could imagine anything different. Aizawa and Izuku were going to be together— were together— and their link was strong, so strong, and Bakugou couldn’t and wouldn’t interfere with that. Izuku obviously didn’t know how Bakugou felt— he’d be a lot more guilty if he did— but it wouldn’t change his actions.
Fortunately, Aizawa had insight borne of experience that they lacked. Fourteen extra years of watching teen romances, some that flourished and some that faded and some that exploded. Fourteen more years of seeing heroes throw their lives into danger… fourteen more years of some of them not coming home. Fourteen years of being the third wheel to his best friends. Fourteen years (twenty-one if he counts the time travel) of longing for something he couldn’t quite name but knew he couldn’t have. Fourteen years (twenty-one years) of loving someone off-limits.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
Aizawa walked to Bakugou’s side and put his hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. Bakugou didn’t flinch or push him away—he won’t risk doing anything that might alienate Izuku, Aizawa thought—but Aizawa could tell he was holding himself back from it. That was okay. Small steps.
“Izuku,” Aizawa said softly.
“Hmm?” For all Izuku’s distracted muttering and random wandering, he must be paying close attention to have heard him.
“I think Bakugou needs a hug,” he said, and Bakugou tensed even more.
But he didn’t say no. He didn’t say anything, which told Aizawa everything he needed to know about how he felt.
Izuku came bounding over, glanced at Bakugou’s face, and threw his arms around him.
“Kacchan! You look so sad! I’m not… I’m not going far.”
Bakugou’s arms tightened around Izuku and he still said nothing.
It’s not that it’s far, thought Aizawa. It’s that you’re going at all.
As they started to separate, Bakugou obviously reluctant to let him go and equally reluctant to try to keep him, Izuku looked up at him, aware of the growing tension between them but unsure of its cause. Aizawa could see the love and devotion and curiosity and the beginnings of want in Izuku’s face, even if Izuku didn’t recognize it yet.
Aizawa looked at Izuku, his Izuku, the one ray of sunshine in his life, who taught him love and patience and family, and… he couldn’t take that away from Bakugou.
He couldn’t give it up, either.
Still holding Bakugou’s shoulder, watching Izuku’s eyes, he found himself saying softly, “You should kiss him.” He didn’t know which of them he was speaking to.
He felt the flinch, an aborted shudder, run through Bakugou; Izuku looked into his friend’s face with confusion, and then surprise, and then determination, as he grabbed Bakugou’s face and pulled him into a deep kiss.
Their first. Aizawa felt rather than heard Bakugou’s breath hitch. Heard Izuku’s soft moan, so familiar now.
And Aizawa suddenly felt like a voyeur; this was something private, something intimate, not his to share. But he was too selfish, too insecure still, to leave.
Suddenly Bakugou broke away from both of them and stepped back, his breath heaving. “Why?” he said in a cracked voice, looking at Aizawa. “Why are you doing this to me? Isn’t it enough that I—”
“That you what?” said Izuku, dazed.
Bakugou looked down. “That I’m giving you up,” he whispered. “I’m letting you go.”
Aizawa heard the order of those two statements, even if they didn’t register for Izuku.
“No,” Aizawa said. “We’re not doing this.”
Both younger men looked at him. “Not doing what?” said Izuku.
“Not leaving someone else to pine for you for years,” he replied.
“But Kacchan doesn’t—” he broke off, one hand reaching up to touch his lips softly. “Kacchan?”
Bakugou wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t—” He swallowed. “You don’t feel the same.”
“I— I—”
Aizawa broke in. “He feels something, and we’re not going to destroy that.”
Bakugou shook his head, first softly, then violently, and backed away until he was pressed against the wall. He almost shouted, “I can’t— I can’t—” and then he slid down, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I can’t…” as he wrapped his arms around his knees and bowed his head.
Aizawa knelt next to him and took his shoulder again—and again, felt the freeze that wasn’t quite a flinch. Izuku, more direct, knelt in front of him, and took both of his hands. Aizawa barely felt the tremor.
“You can,” Aizawa said. “We’ll help you.”
Izuku nodded enthusiastically, which Bakugou couldn’t see but probably felt.
“What do you care?” Bakugou bit out. “You got what you wanted!”
“Hey!” Izuku said, as Aizawa answered more calmly.
“What I want is Izuku’s happiness. He can’t have that if you’re miserable.”
“I’m not—” his voice broke off, and he shook his head without lifting it. “I won’t be, once this is over. I’ll be fine. Just… just go, Deku.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes as Izuku threw his arms around Bakugou’s hunched form.
“Never… never want to leave you, Kacchan,” Izuku was mumbling. “I didn’t know. How could I not have known?”
Aizawa tapped him on the shoulder with his other arm, and Izuku looked at him. “Bakugou was always there for you,” he said. “Even when you fought, you never had to think about what life would be like without him.”
Izuku nodded, apparently filing that away for later as he turned back to his friend. “I don’t want to lose you, Kacchan,” he said.
Bakugou looked up at Aizawa with wild, angry eyes. “So how does this work, huh? You get him Monday through Thursday and I get him on the weekends, like he’s a dog? Got some timeshare scheme planned out, Eraserhead?”
“KACCHAN!” Izuku yelled at him. “STOP IT!”
Bakugou didn’t flinch at that, so that must be normal arguing for them. Good to know.
Aizawa smiled softly, “I don’t know. This is new to me too. We’ll figure something out. We’re pro heroes; I hear we’re very resourceful.”
Bakugou barked a laugh at that. “Right. Because pro heroes all have such stable, healthy private lives.” He stared off to the side, away from them both. “You don’t even want me.”
“I hadn’t particularly considered it, no,” Aizawa admitted. “But,” and he reached over and took Bakugou’s chin, drew his face to meet his eyes, “you are very important to Izuku, and Izuku is very important to me. We’ll figure something out.”
Bakugou snorted, but it was a small sound.
Aizawa smiled, “Besides, I wouldn’t say you’re… without appeal,” and he let his eyes rake down Bakugou’s folded body. Even tense like this, he was attractive—well-built, honed to a physical peak. Aizawa let himself imagine Bakugou and Izuku embracing naked, and took in a sharp breath. That was… an amazing mental image. He looked for traces of jealousy and didn’t find them; Bakugou, apparently, was too close to Izuku in his mind. He had never competed with Bakugou for Izuku’s attention; he and Bakugou owned different parts of Izuku’s heart. The thought of the two of them together, oddly, didn’t set off any anger.
Then he imagined himself in the picture, sliding his hand down Izuku’s back, and… his eyes slid half-shut at the thought. Yeah, they could work something out.
Now he just had to convince his boys.
...When did they both become “his” boys?
~
Aizawa stood, looked around at the half-finished packing, and sighed. “I’d say you could stay here for an extra few days so we can start sorting this out, but we promised Eri you’d be moved in by this weekend.”
“Oh!” Izuku jumped up, and then reached to pull Bakugou up. Bakugou took his hand easily, smoothly, like they’d done this a thousand times. They probably had, in the field. They stood awkwardly, Izuku not as distracted as he had been before, and Bakugou not as tense, but neither of them sure what to do next.
Aizawa sighed. “I can’t pack for you, Izuku; I don’t know which things are yours.”
“R-Right!” He stumbled back, turned around, turned around again, and headed off to his bedroom.
Which left Aizawa alone with Bakugou, who looked like he was vacillating between anger and uncertainty.
“Go ahead and yell at me,” Aizawa invited. “I’m going to have to face it eventually.”
Mutely, Bakugou shook his head. He stomped halfway across the room. Stomped back. Clenched his hands into fists. Aizawa could see sparks crackling through his fingers.
“I can’t— I won’t fuck this up,” Bakugou growled. “If I start yelling at you I’m not gonna stop, and then Deku will hate me.”
Aizawa huffed softly. “I don’t think there’s anything at all you could do to make him hate you.”
Bakugou shook his head. “There is. I could hurt you. He’ll put up with anything for himself, but he won’t tolerate the people he cares about being hurt.”
Aizawa nodded. “That includes you, you know.”
Bakugou kept shaking his head. “It’s not the same.”
“It’s not.” Aizawa agreed. He wasn’t sure what Izuku felt for Bakugou, but it wasn’t the same kind of feelings they shared with each other. If it were, they’d’ve been doing a lot more than just living together. “But it’s not nothing.” Aizawa thought about how Izuku talked about Bakugou, how he looked at him, how he described living with him. “And I’m pretty sure it’s not platonic, either.”
“If it’s not platonic, then he would’ve—” Bakugou stopped short.
“He was waiting for me, I think. He didn’t let himself think about anything else.”
“What, and now we’re gonna be one big happy family? Have three-ways on the living room couch, and then I go home to my empty apartment and you go to sleep with Deku?”
“Of course not. Eri could walk in anytime. Any threesomes need to be in the bedroom.”
“Fuck you, you know what I meant!”
“I did, and I’m sorry for being flippant. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“You don’t know SHIT!”
Ah, there was the Bakugou he knew.
“You fuckin’ come in here, after SEVEN YEARS of not even speaking to him, SEVEN YEARS of him watching every clip of you that shows up on TV, collecting every damn internet article, and you— and you just TAKE him and I was gonna let him go and now you gotta make it all fucking COMPLICATED.” He scowled at the floor. “FUCK YOU.”
Aizawa blinked, trying to take that in.
“Whatever.” Bakugou stomped off to his room and slammed the door.
That was apparently Izuku’s cue to rush out. “What’s wrong? I normally just ignore Kacchan yelling but then I remembered you’re still here and…”
“It’s fine, Izuku. I expect to put up with a lot of Bakugou’s yelling in the future.”
“You shouldn’t have to—”
Aizawa took Izuku’s hands (because he could) and raised them to place a kiss on his knuckles. “It’s okay, Izuku. As I said, he’s important to you. I don’t mind putting up with some yelling to make you happy.”
Izuku looked at him uncertainly. Aizawa, unable to resist, kissed him on the forehead, and then gently pushed him back toward his room. “Go pack.”
~
An hour later, Aizawa interrupted Izuku’s packing frenzy. Once he’d stopped thinking of this as an ending and allowed himself to think of it as moving to something new, he’d sped up, and most of his possessions were loaded into the moving truck. Aizawa saw flickers of green sparks when he lifted heavy items and leaves trailing in his wake when he carried them outside. He used his quirk easily, smoothly; he’d come a long way from the nervous young boy who broke his fingers to prove he was good enough.
He tapped Izuku’s shoulder as he straightened from setting a stack of boxes near the door and spun him around into a hug. Izuku returned it, fiercely, and Aizawa let himself just revel in the wonder that this man was his, that he was loved…
And then he whispered “I have an idea” in Izuku’s ear. He didn’t know how good Bakugou’s hearing was, and besides, whispering always flustered Izuku. “What do you think about…” he described his plan, and then pulled back to watch Izuku’s face.
Izuku’s eyes were wide, and a red flush started in his cheeks and spread downward as he drew a shaky breath. “Th-That would depend on K-Kacchan,” he finally said.
Aizawa felt a smile spread across his face. “Would it, now,” he purred. “In that case, why don’t you go… ask him to join us?” Izuku gulped.
“You’re not… jealous?” Izuku asked.
Aizawa put his hands on Izuku’s face, and shook his head slowly. “Apparently not. I always knew Bakugou was a big part of your life. I think… I think part of me thought you were already with him, since you lived together and you were so close.”
“No, I never— we never—”
“I know that, now. But it seems I’d already accepted the idea of sharing you with him.”
Izuku’s eyes grew wide. “Sh-Sharing?”
“Did you think I meant this to be a one-time thing? I don’t think any of us would be happy with that.”
“But how—”
Aizawa took a step back and waved a hand absently. “I don’t know. None of us knows. The three of us fought against Shigaraki’s team; I’m sure we can figure out how to navigate an unconventional relationship with people we care about.” He really had no idea how this could work, but he had faith in the three of them.
“I… I guess so…” Izuku trailed off, uncertain.
Aizawa took his face again, his thumbs stroking Izuku’s cheeks. “You make miracles possible, problem child. I know it, and Bakugou knows it. It’ll all work out.”
“You seem so sure,” Izuku breathed.
“I won’t lose you again,” Aizawa said. “Not because of some villain’s quirk, not because of nosy reporters, and not because you’re heartbroken that your best friend is unhappy. Whatever it takes to make this work, I will do it,” and oh, that was a vow, he could feel himself committing to it all the way down to his bones.
Of course, if “what it takes to make this work” happened to be “sex with two of the hottest men he’d ever met,” he would make that sacrifice. He would. For Izuku’s sake.
~
Izuku went into Bakugou’s room, and Aizawa could faintly hear his voice through the door, although he couldn’t make out the words. He couldn’t hear Bakugou, which meant he was being damned quiet. After a few minutes, they came out; Izuku was leading Bakugou by the hand, and Bakugou was glaring at the floor.
Izuku stopped when Bakugou was in front of Aizawa, and Bakugou raised his eyes. “What the hell is this about?” he asked, low and resentful. He couldn’t say no to Izuku, didn’t dare risk putting more distance between them, but he obviously hated not knowing what was going on. Hated the feeling that one wrong step would bring the disaster he feared most: a life with no contact at all with Izuku.
Aizawa reassured him the only way he could. “This is about finding out how the three of us fit together.”
“We fuckin’ don’t fit together,” Bakugou shot back. “Deku and I are a top-rated hero team, and you’re underground. We’ve got nothing in common.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Aizawa said. “We— you and I— have Izuku in common.”
“No we fucking don’t!” Bakugou yelled. “I have him at work and you— you have him at—” Bakugou’s voice broke, and Izuku made a wordless, choking sound behind him.
Aizawa spun Bakugou around to face his friend, and spoke to him in a low, even voice, “Look at him. Tell me you don’t see love in his eyes.” Bakugou flinched at that, but he didn’t look away. Shook his head tightly, but said nothing.
Izuku took his hands. “Kacchan…”
Bakugou gripped Izuku like he’d die if he let go. “Deku. You... I can’t…”
Aizawa heard what he couldn’t say, in the catch in his voice, in the tension in his shoulders, in the tiny tremor in his arms. I can’t let you go. I can’t hurt you, can’t force you to stay, but I can’t walk away, either. And he also heard: Anything for you. Everything.
He saw Izuku’s face, saw him shift from apprehensive to analytical as he re-evaluated the relationship that had been with him his whole life. Saw the spark of clarity when Izuku made up his mind. “You’re not going to lose me, Kacchan.”
Bakugou shook his head again, and spoke in a whisper. “I never had you.”
That was Aizawa’s cue. He leaned into Bakugou, pressing himself against his back and murmuring into his ear with a faint smile. “We can fix that.” And he glanced over at Izuku, gave him the tiniest of nods.
Izuku returned the nod, and dropped to his knees.
Bakugou’s gaze snapped down with him and then Bakugou just… froze. Stopped moving.
Aizawa whispered again. “You have to breathe. I promise this will be much better if you’re breathing.”
One shuddery breath. Two. A broken whisper: “Wh-What?”
Izuku spoke. “S-Stop me if I do anything you don’t like, okay, Kacchan?” And he reached for Bakugou’s pants. Slid his hands over the front of them, starting at the knees and moving relentlessly up, spreading his thumbs over the crotch, letting his fingers fold over the beltline to touch Bakugou’s skin.
Bakugou jerked his head to the side, away from Aizawa, so Aizawa reached up to turn it back to facing Izuku. “Don’t look away. I know you want to see this.”
His breath hitched, but he said, “And you’re just gonna watch? Like a pervert?”
Aizawa let his smile fill his voice. “Yes. And I’m going to enjoy watching.” He pressed tighter against Bakugou’s back. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Bakugou’s reply was so quiet, Aizawa could barely hear him. “...No.”
Aizawa chuckled softly and draped one arm over Bakugou’s shoulder, across his chest, bracing him, holding him. He could feel every breath, every shudder, as Izuku ran his thumbs up and down the front of Bakugou’s pants.
Izuku’s thumb traced over Bakugou’s zipper and Bakugou drew in a sharp breath. Izuku palmed him and Bakugou twitched, almost pressed into him but stopped himself. Izuku pressed harder, traced his length with his fingertips, and Aizawa felt a long tremor run through him. It looked like he wasn’t hard yet but he was fast getting there.
Izuku looked up, an unspoken question on his face. Bakugou looked down at him, not moving—and nodded once, small but firm. Izuku grinned (Aizawa loved that smile…) and opened Bakugou’s pants.
Bakugou took in a sharp breath as his cock twitched in Izuku’s hand and Aizawa pressed himself more firmly to Bakugou’s back. He wouldn’t be able to see most of this from over Bakugou’s shoulder and he wanted to feel every bit of it. Bakugou tensed but didn’t twitch, didn’t pull away—Aizawa felt himself start to smile as he realized Bakugou would do nothing that risked Izuku thinking he didn’t want this.
Bakugou’s breath caught when Izuku unbuttoned his jeans, and Aizawa could hear the zipper lower slowly because Bakugou wasn’t breathing. Aizawa couldn’t see Izuku lower his mouth to Bakugou’s dick but he felt the full-body shudder that ran through him, and heard the choked moan he couldn’t keep inside.
“You can grab his hair,” Aizawa murmured into his ear; “just try not to set it on fire.”
“F-Fuck y—” Bakugou’s voice cut off on a whine. Aizawa was sorry he’d missed whatever Izuku had done to cause that. And then Bakugou threaded his fingers into Izuku’s hair, and Aizawa grinned, knowing Bakugou had given up control.
Bakugou kept forcing himself to look down, and then throwing his head back and panting, and then looking down again.
“Relax,” Aizawa said. “Close your eyes and just feel it.”
“You said—” Bakugou swallowed. “You said to watch.”
“Changed my mind. You can look next time.”
“N-Next…?” Bakugou could barely get the word out.
“There’ll be a next time. And another after that. Izuku’s not going to give this up.” Aizawa pressed his own growing hardness against Bakugou’s back. “Neither am I.”
Aizawa heard a slurping sound and Bakugou whined again, twitched forward—
“There’ll be a next time,” Izuku said. “Promise. Just… do what Shouta said. Relax and enjoy,” and Aizawa could hear the smile in his voice before he moved in again.
Aizawa tightened his arm around Bakugou’s shoulder as Bakugou threw his head back and groaned. Felt his arms tighten—ah, must be clenching his fists and trying to keep his quirk under control—and followed him as he thrust—gently, carefully—into Izuku’s mouth. Izuku grabbed Bakugou’s hip and found Aizawa’s hand already bracing there for balance. Izuku spread his own hand over Aizawa’s fingers and pressed in harder, and Bakugou’s breathing was shot.
His hips twitched in erratic little thrusts—wanting more, unwilling to risk too much. (Aizawa didn’t tell him that there probably wasn’t a “too much,” and he hoped to be in the room when Bakugou discovered that.) And then Izuku tightened his hand, pulled Bakugou forward, hard, and hummed loud enough for Aizawa to hear him.
So he put his mouth right over Bakugou’s ear and whispered, “Come for us,” and felt him come apart. He yelled, and Aizawa bit down on his neck, feeling the vibration throb through his lips, hearing his voice crack and stutter into heaving breaths as he stilled.
Izuku stood up on wobbly legs.
“Kacchan—” he got no further before Bakugou pulled him into a kiss, fierce and desperate, pulling him closer so he wrapped his arms around Bakugou, around both of them—
“Help him out,” Aizawa whispered, and he guided Bakugou’s hand to the front of Izuku’s pants. He only needed the nudge; Bakugou reached inside and it was Izuku’s turn to go still, and then shudder and lean into the touch, holding them both tighter while Bakugou worked him off.
“I’m gonna—” he buried his face in Bakugou’s shirt and thrust forward, three times, and then went still, body locked the way he did when he was trying not to use his quirk, as he came.
Izuku held them for a long moment, and neither he nor Bakugou made a move to shift away. Aizawa was throbbing hard, but he could wait; this moment was too fragile to interrupt. He let Bakugou’s breathing slow and settle, waited for Izuku to stop shaking and catch his breath. Then he started to step back—he wasn’t sure what was next, but he knew that the details could wait until they were all a little more stable.
Bakugou spun around and grabbed his wrist. “Where are you going?”
Izuku stepped to his other side, grabbed his other hand. “You can’t leave now.”
“I’m not— I’m not leaving; I’m just—”
Bakugou grabbed his head and dragged him in for a kiss.
He—
He could taste Izuku on Bakugou’s tongue, and he chased the flavor and caught himself moaning before he tore himself away and took a step back. “No, we have to— there’s packing, and—”
“We’re not leaving you like this,” Izuku said.
“Like…” Oh. Like this; his pants jutting out obscenely and his dick throbbing so hard it almost gave him a headache. But. He was the older one here. “I don’t need—”
Bakugou grinned. “I don’t think this is about what you need right now,” and he tilted his head to glance at Izuku, who nodded at him.
The two of them tackled him to the ground, smoothly, quickly, almost gently, like they’d done it a thousand times in the field.
They probably had.
They probably hadn’t followed it with removing someone’s pants, but they were remarkably adept at that, as well.
Aizawa closed his eyes and surrendered to the inevitable.