Chapter 4: Pharmacy Run
The pharmacy hummed with a specific, sterile brand of chaos. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, bleaching everything into sharp relief: the rows of brightly colored cough drop boxes, the clinical white of the first-aid aisles, the garish pinks and yellows of the vitamin supplements. The air was a layered cocktail of mint, rubbing alcohol, and the faint, powdery scent of baby products. An old J-pop ballad crackled from tinny speakers, competing with the beep of a register scanner and the murmur of an elderly couple debating fiber supplements.
Izuku, basket hooked over his arm, was examining two small, nearly identical bottles with the intensity usually reserved for Quirk analysis scrolls. His long white hair was tied back in a loose, messy bun, a few escaped curls framing his focused face. Kaito loomed beside him, a solid, warm presence that seemed to absorb the harsh lighting. His wavy black mullet brushed the collar of his leather jacket, and he was leaning against the shelf, grinning down at Izuku with unabashed fondness.
“See, this one says ‘classic smooth,’” Izuku murmured, holding up a bottle with blue lettering. “And this one is ‘strawberry swirl.’ The ingredient lists are almost the same, but the strawberry has added flavoring and a slightly different pH balance. Probably to make it more…”
“Tasty?” Kaito supplied, his voice a low rumble. He plucked the strawberry bottle from Izuku’s hand, his fingers brushing Izuku’s. “You’re overthinking it, ‘Zuku. It’s lube. It’s for fun. Get the one that smells like candy.”
Izuku’s cheeks pinked, but he didn’t look away from the shelves. This was their ritual, their comfortable, shared vulgarity that existed in a bubble away from U.A., from Shiketsu, from prying, misunderstanding eyes. Here, he wasn’t the nervous student; he was just Izuku, who could be blunt with the boy he loved. “I’m not overthinking. I’m being practical. The ‘classic smooth’ has a higher silicone content. It’s thicker. Better for… other things.”
“Other things,” Kaito echoed, his grin widening. He leaned in, his breath warm against Izuku’s ear. “You mean when you ride me so good I see stars? Yeah, that stuff’s fine for that. But I’m talking about the specific, recurring issue of my beautiful, brilliant boyfriend refusing to suck my dick unless it’s coated in synthetic fruit flavoring.”
A woman pushing a cart past them with a toddler in the seat gave them a sharp, disapproving look. Izuku ducked his head, but Kaito just winked at her. She sped up.
“Your cock is dry, Kaito,” Izuku stated, matter-of-factly, putting the ‘classic smooth’ back and taking the strawberry bottle from Kaito’s hand. He dropped it into the basket, which already held a bag of rice crackers, two energy drinks, and a new tube of muscle balm. “And normal lube tastes like someone bottled a robot’s asshole. It’s chemical and bitter. If I’m going to swallow your cum, I’m at least going to make the journey a little more pleasing for my palate. Hence, the strawberry.”
Kaito barked a laugh, loud and unapologetic, causing a stock boy across the aisle to jump. “My god, I love you. You say the filthiest shit with the same face you use to explain capillary action in Quirk ligaments.” He slung an arm around Izuku’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Fine, fine. Strawberry it is. For your palate. You’re such a fucking princess.”
“I’m detail-oriented,” Izuku corrected, a small, real smile playing on his lips as he let himself be tugged against Kaito’s side. This was safety. This was home. “And you love it.”
“I worship it,” Kaito corrected, his tone dipping, losing its teasing edge for a raw, honest second. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to Izuku’s temple. “Now, come on. We need condoms. I’m almost out, and I plan on wrecking you all weekend. We’re getting the ridged ones this time. For your palate.”
Izuku snorted, elbowing him gently in the ribs as they shuffled down the aisle towards the family planning section. The pharmacy felt suddenly smaller, more intimate. The mundanity of the place—the sale on laundry detergent, the display for foot powder—juxtaposed with their quiet, explicit intimacy made his heart thump pleasantly. This was their life. Not just the drama of U.A., but this: shopping for snacks and sex supplies, bickering about flavors.
They turned the corner into the narrower condom and personal care aisle. It was deserted. Kaito immediately went for a specific box on the top shelf, his height making it easy. “Ribbed for her pleasure,” he read aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet. “But, you know, adapted for his pleasure.”
“You’re impossible,” Izuku laughed, shaking his head. He reached for a smaller box of the same brand. “Just get the mixed pack. We might want the sensitive ones later if you’re as… enthusiastic as you’re promising.”
“Oh, I’m promising a lot, baby.” Kaito grabbed the mixed pack and tossed it into the basket. He then turned, crowding Izuku gently against the shelf of pregnancy tests, his hands landing on Izuku’s hips. The leather of his jacket creaked softly. “Three weeks since I’ve had you alone in a real bed. You have no idea the plans I’ve got. I’m gonna take you apart so slow. Gonna make you beg with that pretty voice.”
Izuku’s breath hitched. The clinical surroundings faded away, replaced by the heat of Kaito’s body, the dark promise in his eyes. This was the Kaito only he saw—the fiercely loving, intensely focused one beneath the vulgar humor. Izuku’s own hands came up to rest on Kaito’s chest. “You talk big for a guy who came in his pants last time I just kissed his neck.”
Kaito’s eyes flashed. “That was a tactical vulnerability. And I’ve fortified my defenses since.” He dipped his head, his lips a millimeter from Izuku’s. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. Until all you can say is mine.”
A thrill, hot and liquid, shot down Izuku’s spine. He was about to fire back a retort, to whisper something equally crude and affirming, when a very familiar, deliberately cleared throat sounded from the end of the aisle.
“Ahem.”
It wasn’t a customer’s polite cough. It was a stage-clearing, attention-demanding, microphone-tap of a sound.
Izuku froze. Every muscle in his body locked. He knew that sound. He’d heard it a hundred times in class, in the hallways, right before a particularly loud announcement.
Slowly, mechanically, he turned his head, peering over Kaito’s shoulder.
Standing there, holding a basket containing a single tube of extra-strength headache gel and a pack of throat lozenges, was Hizashi Yamada. His blond hair was down, cascading over his shoulders, and he wore civilian clothes—a graphic tee under an open denim jacket. His yellow sunglasses were perched on his head. His expression was one of profound, unblinking interest. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t scowling. He looked like a scientist who had just stumbled upon a fascinating new species in its natural habitat.
Kaito, feeling Izuku stiffen, turned around, his arm slipping from Izuku’s hips but not moving away entirely. His posture shifted from intimately possessive to casually defensive. He raised an eyebrow at the newcomer.
The silence stretched. The J-pop ballad chorused cheerfully about lost love.
Yamada’s eyes flicked from Izuku’s mortified, blanched face, to the basket looped over his arm, to the box of ribbed condoms sitting blatantly on top of the strawberry lube. His gaze traveled up Kaito’s tall frame, taking in the mullet, the leather, the openly possessive stance.
Then, he smiled. It was his full, Present Mic smile, all teeth and radiant approval.
“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice carefully modulated to a conversational volume that still seemed to ring in the confined space. “If it isn’t my favorite little listener! And you must be the immovable object.”
Izuku made a small, choked noise. He felt the world tilt. The headache gel in Yamada’s basket seemed to mock him. Of course. Of course Aizawa-sensei would send his husband out for headache relief, and of course they would end up in the same pharmacy, in this aisle, at this exact moment. The universe had a truly vicious sense of humor.
“Y-Yamada-sensei,” Izuku stammered, his voice a brittle squeak. He instinctively tried to step away from Kaito, but Kaito’s hand shot out, gently grasping his wrist, holding him in place. A silent message: We’re not hiding.
“Sensei, huh?” Kaito said, his voice easy, relaxed. He offered a short, polite nod. “Kaito Ishikawa. Shiketsu, second year.”
“Hizashi Yamada! U.A. faculty! Voice Hero: Present Mic! At your service!” Yamada gave a little finger-gun pose with his free hand. His eyes were sparkling with uncontained glee. “Shiketsu, you say? Wow! Good program! Very disciplined! I hear the uniforms are stifling, though. Gotta let the personality out somewhere, right?” He gestured vaguely at Kaito’s entire aesthetic.
“Something like that,” Kaito said, a slow smile spreading across his face. He seemed to instantly understand the type of person Yamada was—loud, observant, and strangely non-threatening in his sheer shamelessness. “Izuku’s told me a lot about his teachers.”
“Has he now?” Yamada’s gaze swung back to Izuku, who looked like he wished the shelf of pregnancy tests would swallow him whole. “All good things, I hope! We’re very fond of our problem child. Though he’s been causing some hallway traffic issues lately. Something about… evasion tactics.”
Izuku found his voice, though it was thin and strained. “This… this is Kaito. My, um. The… prior commitment.”
“The classified prior commitment!” Yamada confirmed, nodding sagely. “I can see why you’d want to keep this under wraps. He’s very… visually distracting. In a good way!” He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. “So. Strawberry, huh? Good choice. The classic stuff does taste like a robot’s asshole. Excellent analysis, Midoriya-kun! Very precise!”
If possible, Izuku turned an even deeper shade of red. He’d forgotten how sharp Yamada’s hearing was. He’d heard everything. Everything. The dry cock comment. The swallowing cum comment. All of it.
Kaito, however, threw his head back and laughed, a genuine, roaring sound that filled the aisle. “Oh, I like you. You heard all that, huh?”
“Every. Evocative. Word.” Yamada straightened up, beaming. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me! My lips are sealed! Though, between us?” He winked. “Shouta—that’s Eraserhead, my perpetually tired husband—he’s gonna be so jealous I met the famous Kaito first. He’s been curious. In his own, emotionally constipated way.”
The mention of Aizawa-sensei’s curiosity sparked a new kind of terror in Izuku. “Aizawa-sensei is… curious?”
“Paternally! Paternally curious!” Yamada assured him, waving a hand. “You know him. ‘Assess all variables for potential threats to my homeroom’s GPA and emotional stability.’ I’ll just tell him the variable is tall, handsome, and buys you flavored lubricants. That’ll put his mind at ease.”
Kaito was grinning widely now, clearly enjoying this far more than Izuku was. “You should come by sometime. I’ll make tea. We can talk about the best brands. I’m a fan of the warming gel, myself.”
“Kaito!” Izuku hissed, finally yanking his wrist free to cover his own burning face.
“What? He’s cool! He’s your favorite, right? You said he pinched your cheeks and called you a ‘baby-gay.’ That’s adorable.”
Yamada looked like he’d just been given the best gift of his life. “He told you about that! Oh, that’s precious! See, you communicate! That’s healthy!” He sighed, a happy, wistful sound. “I’m just so glad you have this, Midoriya-kun. Really. It’s wonderful. You deserve nice things. And,” he added, looking pointedly at the basket, “a well-stocked weekend.”
The initial shock was beginning to recede, replaced by a deep, warm embarrassment that was slowly morphing into something like acceptance. Yamada wasn’t disgusted. He wasn’t angry. He was… enthusiastically supportive in the most invasive, mortifying way possible. It was pure, unadulterated Yamada. Izuku lowered his hands from his face, taking a shaky breath. “Thank you, sensei. For, um… not making it weird.”
“Who, me? Make it weird? Never!” Yamada said, his tone indicating he knew he was the architect of all the weirdness in the immediate vicinity. His expression softened, just a fraction, the manic glee giving way to something more genuinely gentle. “Seriously, kid. It’s good. I’m happy for you. Both of you.” He looked at Kaito, and his voice lost its performative edge. “You take care of him. He’s tougher than he looks, but he… he needs people who see him. All of him.”
Kaito’s easygoing demeanor settled into something more serious. He gave a single, firm nod. “I know. I do.”
The moment hung there, sincere and quiet amidst the pharmacy hum.
Then Yamada clapped his hands together, shattering the mood. “Right! Well! I should let you two get back to your very important shopping. I’ve got a grumpy cat-man at home who needs his headache gel before he erases someone’s Quirk out of spite.” He began to back away, still facing them. “Have a fantastic weekend, you crazy kids! Use protection! Hydrate! Midoriya-kun, remember what we talked about—definitive solutions! Immovable objects! You’re doing great!”
And with a final, double thumbs-up, he turned the corner and was gone, his footsteps fading quickly.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The silence he left behind was different now—charged, but not with panic.
Izuku finally let out a huge, shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping. “Oh my god. Oh my god. I want to die. I want to dissolve into the floor and become one with the linoleum.”
Kaito chuckled, pulling him back into his arms, this time in a comforting hug. “Relax. He’s awesome.”
“He’s a force of nature! He heard everything, Kaito! About your… about me… about the… the strawberry…”
“And he approved! Wholeheartedly! Your teacher is a kinky ally, ‘Zuku. That’s a win. A bizarre, traumatizing win, but a win.” Kaito kissed the top of his head. “Besides, now I don’t have to worry about accidentally running into your teachers. I’ve already been vetted by the loudest one. The hard part’s over.”
Izuku buried his face in Kaito’s leather-clad shoulder, the familiar scent calming his racing heart. “Aizawa-sensei knows about you now. Officially. Yamada-sensei will tell him everything. Including the… the product recommendations.”
“So? Let him know.