[A/N]: Slight references to DDLB.

√Smutty Vibes
√Quirkless AU

...

"I think it looks like a balloon."

Hitoshi almost choked on his coffee, audibly sputtering in disbelief at what he'd just heard. His head spun around to locate the source of the comment.

"It's an abstract piece that was meant to capture the essence of the detrimental impact that assault has on the human mind."
He stated.

"It's not just 'a balloon'."

"You can't tell me what to see, man. We interpret it differently, is all."

Denki shrugged, his eyes still quite focused on the framed painting.

Hitoshi and Denki had the same literature assignment, which was to write an essay on a painting.

They just both happened to choose the same one.

The 'Heartache' had a local reputation for it's raw application and technique.

They say the painter was abused and taunted, so they retaliated by putting brush-to-canvas and expressing their thoughts there.

The painter was still completely anonymous, however, so the true meaning never quite came to light.

Hitoshi was just speaking on behalf of the mass--who, in reality, didn't actually have a confirmed theory on the artwork as a whole.

The violet-haired man sighed.
"What are you even doing here?"
He groaned, casting a hand over his exasperated facial features.

"I think you know the answer to that."
Denki chuckled.

"No--I don't mean–ugh. I mean why are you here? Right now? Can't you just...I don't know...Wait for me to leave?"

"And I should put off my assignment for you because?..."
Denki folded his arms, finally breaking his rather long examination of the painting.

"Because I'm actually going to do it."

"Ouch."
Denki playfully clung to the chest of his sweatshirt, making a noticeably forced hurt expression.

"Just...Get a coffee or something."

"We're not supposed to have food or drinks inside the gallery."
Denki glanced that the to-go coffee clung from within the taller man's grasp.

The tips of Hitoshi's ears flushed a deep pink.
"...Y-You!–"

"What? Follow the rules?"
Denki stuck out his tongue.

Hitoshi groaned in aggravation.

"You're a child!"
He exclaimed, before stomping off in the opposite direction.

Denki rolled his eyes, turning his focus back onto the painting.

How stuck up was that guy, invalidating his very plausible theory just because his had 'emotional depth'?

Whatever that means.

"I'm sorry,"
A voice came from behind Denki,
"But are you here to see the Heartache as well?"

Denki smiled.
It was a woman's voice; how lucky could he get?

"Why, yes I–"
He'd begun turning around, before being met with a sudden wave of shrieks and yells.

"Help! This man is trying to assault me!"

Denki paused.
Who?
Someone behind me?

Before he could consider any further possibilities, his wrist was abruptly yanked backward.

He yelped before feeling the tough leather of a purse strap entangling around it.

"And he's trying to rob me! Someone, help!"
She cried.

Denki was blatantly confused.
He glared at the bag that dangled from his now trembling wrist in disbelief.

What was happening?

"Excuse me,"
The bag was swiped from his arm,
"Is there a problem here?"

Denki glanced up, nearly gaping as he saw Hitoshi's back towards him.

He could almost see him smiling as he returned the stranger's handbag, as there was a harmless manner to his actions.

"U-Um..."

"Babe, did you take this nice lady's handbag without asking?"
Denki flinched at the surprisingly soft hands that intertwined with his own,
"What did I tell you about touching other people's things without their permission?"
Hitoshi asked with a calm voice, looking directly into his eyes as he did so.

He swivelled back around, facing the stranger,
"I'm terribly sorry, my boyfriend has a learning imperative, and it makes it hard for him to speak and react appropriately. He never means any harm, though. Isn't that right, baby?"
Hitoshi mused, the warmest smile playing at his lips.

Denki gulped.
"O-O...Orange."
He put on a stutter, pointing at the woman's handbag--which was, indeed, a deep blood-orange.

"Mhm. That's right, dear. It's a lovely colour, isn't it? But stealing is wrong."
Hitoshi leaned closer to Denki, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.

Denki, trying to retain a convincing act, plastered a look of the utmost bewilderment across his face–adding in a quivering lip for dramatic effect.

"W-Wrong?"
He whimpered, before burying his face into the fabric of Hitoshi's dress-shirt.

"Yes, it is. Again, truly sorry, ma'am. As you can see, he's sorry for his inconsideration, and will know better in the future. No hard feelings?"
He forced a smile, pulling Denki by the waist so that he stood closer.

"U-Uh... Sure, whatever."
The woman mumbled, steadily pacing out of there.

The passersby who'd initially diverted their attention to the shrieking woman almost seemed to collectively sigh with relief, each individual catching a breath they didn't know they were holding before going about their business.

Hitoshi didn't have time to object the hand that clamped onto his arm, forcibly dragging him from the art gallery to the alley out back.

"The heck was that, punk?"
Denki spat, face flushed a rosy pink as he basically smacked Hitoshi against the red-brick wall.

Hitoshi was confused with the blonde's sudden discontent, almost curious as to why he'd even bothered to help him in the first place.

But then, the most glorious idea popped into his head.

Why not tease him further?

"What's wrong, baby boy, are you sick?"

He felt a glint of satisfaction when Denki tensed under his touch, as he traced his fingers up lithe arms.
The warmth Denki felt from the action caused the blonde hairs on his neck to stand up.

"Daddy can fix that."

Denki choked out a cough, wondering just who the fuck this dude was, and what happened to the quiet Hitoshi from before.

Was he one of those guys?

Quiet and shy on the outside, but a kinky beast on the inside?

Damn...He didn't mind the sound of that.

The thought of the hot quiet guy from class making a mess of him almost made him drool.

"Fuck..."
Denki whispered, before stealing an almost smothering kiss from Hitoshi's lips.

The latter was caught off-guard by the sudden initiation, unable to fully process the current situation.

When he did recollect his thoughts, he knew that one thing was for sure:
dominance was his.

He abruptly pushed Denki in the opposite direction, pinning him to wall with a surprised mewl escaping the blonde's lips.

He barely gave him a second to breathe, smashing their lips together with an almost greedy anticipation.

"H-Holy fuck,"
He breathed, the taste of Denki's tongue lingering on his own.
The sudden warmth from both the kiss and Hitoshi's grasp on his waist sent Denki over the edge--before he felt the need to go further.

Without warning, he practically leapt at Hitoshi, latching his slim legs around the taller man's fairly masculine build.

Hitoshi wasn't expecting it, but he wasn't going to let it stop him.

He unintentionally slammed Denki into the wall once more, only earning a gasp this time since they were both too invested.

He'd started grinding against Denki, both of their urges to become closer only growing.

The blonde only mewled and whined, the dissatisfaction of not being touched directly driving him crazy.

"Mm, I-I want you...To,"
He gasped between breathy kisses,
"Touch me,"
He groaned, feeling Hitoshi even through the hem of both their jeans.

Hitoshi cracked a cocksure grin,
"Of course, baby boy."

...

Denki squirmed at the discomfort of rough sheeting under his skin, a slight rustle sounding through the room as he stirred.

He subconsciously turned to his side, grunting the soreness that spread throughout his stiff limbs.

"You up?"
A deep voice groggily breathed against his nape.

"Mm...Frickin' hottie."
Denki murmured, lavishing in the warmth that emanated from Hitoshi's body heat; the heavy, lean-muscled arms that latched around his slim figure.

When Denki figured submitting a painting to art gallery was getting him swarmed with ladies, this definitely wasn't what he had in mind.

He should paint balloons more often.