deercountry | Birthday Party

Birthday Party

Who: Paul Atreides and all his CR
What: Throwing everyone’s favorite Duke a surprise birthday party
When: Forwarded dated to April 1st
Where: Bone House in Gaze

Content Warnings: Drinking, underage drinking, drugs (both fictional and not), drawings of space worms, skeletons, will add further warnings if necessary

When you arrive at the house in Gaze, (affectionately known as Bone House), a skeleton will open the door and offer to take your coat if you have one. No need to take your shoes off or anything!

The large house has been decorated with black streamers and confetti. In the entryway and hung on the railing to the second floor that overlooks the entrance to the great room are large banners that say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL” (though one looks like it used to say “Jaune” but was just painted over? Whatever).

In the Living Room, there is a large board and various colored markers for people to write messages to the birthday boy. There is also a table full of bottled water and various couches, chairs, and beanbags to collapse into if the party gets to be too much and one needs a quiet place to rest or a place to chill if you’ve imbibed too much… well, whatever you had.

It is also where all the food and drinks are.

There’s an extremely large charcuterie board with the usual meats, cheeses, and olives as well as an extremely eccentric collection of snacks ranging from individual sized Cheez-it bags, to humungous bags of Doritos and salty chips, as well as nearly every kind of Oreo one can imagine.

There are also various cakes, all angel food. Some are misshapen, some have an attempt at being frosted with whipped cream and fruit, one even says “Happy Birthday Ka-” before that was hastily covered with a bunch of strawberries jammed really close together.

At the island, a skeleton is playing bartender. Surprisingly, it can seem to take and understand individual orders, but there’s always a constant flow of tequila shots being made and sent out to the great hall to be served by another skeleton.

And, no, of course it’s not going to check your age to see if you’re legal. It’s a skeleton. Why would it care?

The Great Hall is the center of activity and where everyone is encouraged to mingle and have fun. There is a skeleton on the grand piano in the corner gleefully playing piano covers of the hits from the Shrek Soundtrack with the occasional cover of “DaRude’s Sandstorm” when it has another one to help out.

In another corner, on huge piece of paper that spans nearly 6ft wide and 8ft tall is drawing of an Arrakis sandworm and it’s giant maw. The game is Pin the Tooth on the Sandworm and it’s… very easy… because the worm maw is most of the board. Even if the skeleton spins you as you’re blindfolded, it’s pretty hard to lose. If you manage to do it, which is likely, the skeleton running the game will award you a tequila shot! If you lose, the skeletons will award you a tequila shot (but it’s rail).

(It’s a drinking game, isn’t the point to drink?)

There’s also a table that has many candelabras on it, numbering up to seventeen. They’re still lit and burning even though there is a sign that says “make a wish!” even though it almost looks like a shrine for the dead.

…It’s maybe clear that the concept of “birthday candles” was greatly misunderstood.

There is also a skeleton dealing out small doses of “Spice”, a psychoactive drug straight outta the Duneverse. However, you must check in with this Skeleton to get a dose. There will be no “permanently melting your brain with ancestral memories” at this party!

Teacher’s/God’s/Jod’s/The Emperor Undying’s study, adjacent to the main hall, is closed and locked. Though, the lock is fairly easy to break if someone really wanted to get in. There’s not even skeletons guarding.

That said, many things are warded with eerie runes of blood and bone.

So, fuck around and find out.

The upstairs is generally off limits. Party goers can climb up the stairs, and it’s encouraged if they want to look over the Great Room from above, but all of the bedrooms are carefully guarded by more skeletons who will SCREAM VERY LOUDLY if you try to enter and will become hostile if done by force.

Of course, this won’t happen if you are with someone who lives in the house.

Enjoy the party! Mingle away!

((ooc: if you have any questions or anything, please hit me up at

worldtype)) or via PM.))

Birthday Board | At the Party | The Morning After | IC Party Games | Spice Dealer

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I was distracted," Paul admits, which is somewhat stating the obvious. Midoriya wasn't gone that long - or Paul lost more time than he thought he did.

For whatever reason, this demonstration seems very important to him, so Paul helpfully produces one of the condoms before Midoriya accidentally finds the knives tucked along the bed frame. He sets it down next to the eggplant and sinks back down, watching him thoughtfully.

He has a few idle inferences he might make about the cause of Midoriya's shyness, but Paul also guesses this comes down to differing cultural expectations, which means those inferences can't be trusted. He could keep trying to puzzle it out independently, but so far, that hasn't put him at ease.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable," he says, sincerely, "We weren't - nothing was happening." He hesitates, then, running his tongue over still sleep-fuzzed teeth. "Is something wrong?"

Edited 2022-04-26 19:06 (UTC)

"I was the distraction," Kaworu clarifies for no one at all and looking deeply pleased with himself for it too. Though, he too can sense that Midoriya is quite serious about this presentation and he's already learned that one can't easily deny Midoriya when he's serious about something.

So to be helpful, he sits up a little, resting against pillows and Paul's body and takes the glass of water again, sipping it to show that he's getting prepared for... whatever is going to come. Then when he sets it back down, he takes the eggplant and offers it to Midorya.

"...Is something wrong?"

Edited 2022-04-26 19:27 (UTC)

Kaworu is very illuminating, an angel of light. He illuminates exactly nothing Midoriya didn't know already. Even the knives he has not discovered... He'd be surprised if Paul didn't keep a few around where he sleeps. It says something about Midoriya, and Paul, that he thinks it would be more normal to.

He never expects anything, least of all to be admitted to a room where by all rights it looks like he's interrupted something. The two in bed are unflustered by this, not resentful, even helpful. Midoriya concludes, a little desperately in confusion,

"No, actually." He doesn't even punctuate this with one of his false I'm fine smiles, though ironically everything is more fine than he thought. He hands the condom to Kaworu, the one who needs to learn how to put it on. He takes the offered eggplant, falters, unsure of the logistics in case his hands need to be free to help, then hands it to Paul instead.

"I'm just not sure why you let me in when you were busy." He sits on the bed with the familiar closeness of a friend who was just recently in it, but touches neither of them. It's almost laughable, considering the time they spent lounging or sleeping on each other. (On Midoriya, more accurately, like cats jealously guarding a favored seat.)

Paul accepts the eggplant as he twists up to a cross-legged seat, gripping the unwieldy vegetable in both hands. He lets his knee bump against Midoriya's side, then draws it back, uncertain of how much space he wants between them.

"I knew it was you," he offers, apprehension coloring his voice, "I thought..."

What did he think? There had seemed to be an understanding between Midoriya and Kaworu, for one thing, when Kaworu asked if he wanted to be kissed. They had shared the couch, and then this bed. They're comfortable around each other, but perhaps not so much as Paul understood them to be.

Or it's something else. Paul's never done any of this before. He's never navigated these complexities, and certainly never expected to do so without the structures he's used to. He thinks of how it might have felt, to go off to do something generous and coming back to his friends frivolously preoccupied with one another.

"Did you..." Now he's embarrassed, dropping his eyes to the ponderous purple plant he holds. "Did you expect anything else? I'm not sure what the rules are, for things like this. Not here."

"We let you in because it's you."

Kaworu examines the condom in his hand, flipping it over a few times, like he didn't just say something so declarative. In his mind, it's simple: he and Paul like each other and Midoriya is also their friend. He may not know Midoriya as well as he knows Paul or as well as Paul knows Midoriya but that doesn't feel like it particularly matters. They fit easily together in some combination even if their feelings aren't all exactly the same. And it's nice, feeling like things fit together.

He sits up too, pressing his back against Paul's sweaty side (Paul is lucky he's handsome enough that the sweat can be forgiven), and then kicking his legs out over Midoriya's thighs. A hungover rendition of their arrangement last night.

"Why does there have to be rules? Rules are all made up and people the make them up are the ones who think they're important."

Maybe Kaworu wouldn't feel so free to trap him if Midoriya didn't automatically shift his bent knees to be a more comfortable seat. Thus, Midoriya can't give in to the urge to bolt off the bed to save his good friends from the disaster that is himself. Midoriya had chosen not to think about whatever-it-is until later, even in the face of deferring Kaworu's earlier shamelessness. He didn't think later would come so soon.

To have rules, one has to have an inkling of what they're for and when one wants to invoke them. Midoriya can't believe Paul thinks he, a total nerd, knows about such things, much less has rules other than general considerations one might give to any close friend.

Midoriya can feel himself breaking into a nervous sweat, but he's never been one to give in to that when something really needs doing. He only knows how to be a good friend. He needs to tell them soothingly (falteringly),

"I don't even know what rules you're talking about... It's all right, I never expected anything. Don't worry about it."

Paul looks like a mournful parent cradling a sick eggplant baby. Midoriya shifts to reconnect Paul's knee with his side--with slightly more gusto, an acknowledgement of how they spar together.

"You two have been together a while," he explains his (incorrect) assumption garnered from their closeness, "so I was surprised you didn't teach Nagisa-kun this basic safety. I could have just sent a video, but... well... the search results were... I thought this would be easier than sifting through all that," he finishes with a wince.

When partial understanding finally coheres, Paul has the wild and unreasonable impulse of shoving the eggplant into Midoriya's hands and burying himself so deeply into the blankets he's never seen again.

The tips of his ears turn pink instead as he nudges Midoriya back with his knee, a reflexive press of contact that grounds him as much as Kaworu's flung legs across Midoriya's lap grounds him in turn. He absolutely cannot look at either of them as he swallows, the many things that may ensue after kissing passing through his thoughts in rapid succession.

It's not that he's opposed to them, in theory. It's that it's all theory.

"This happened last night," Paul mutters, rotating the eggplant in his hand and painfully aware of - everything, more or less, his flush creeping down the sides of his neck, "And - I mean the rules of what's appropriate. Social parameters. Correct conduct. You know."

There's a plaintive note to his insistence, directed at the both of them.

"As in - you wouldn't show your eggplant to a stranger, would you? Things like that."

Maybe he can pretend to get sick. They wouldn't know any better.

On the other hand, Kaworu has already considered all the things that could happen after kissing. Not that he expects them. But he's a curious creature and of course that means he's considered the things that he wasn't ever expected to be allowed to do. Though, ultimately it leads to a rather innocent perception of such things.

He shifts, leaning his shoulder against Paul and watching him fumble with the eggplant, trying to be a steadying force in his own way as he tries to puzzle everything out with his limited social knowledge.

"Izuku-kun is trying to help us out because we're friends. He said he'd protect us after all and that's more important than rules. It's good he's here."

Red eyes gaze into Midoriya's, trying to convey emotions, trying to build a bridge with just a few sentences and a look.

He wheezes like he's aged several decades in an instant and puts his face in both hands. Eggplant...

When his blush doesn't resemble a tomato, he lowers his hands. He can't look at the pink flush spreading painfully across Paul's skin. He looks at Kaworu, who looks at him, and his eyes are red, of which pink is a tint. He can't look at Kaworu either.

"You really don't have to--do stuff--but just in case... Like these, just in case..." he points to the colorful wrapped thing in Kaworu's hand, "I--I thought it would just be--you know, like class. Not weird. Okay kind of weird, but--" he bites his lip and lets out a breath through his nose. "If there's someone else you'd rather ask, that's all right. I just--well, not a lot of us Sleepers have someone like that. I thought you might be the same. And I'm sorry for assuming you were kissing and stuff for longer."

He looks down contritely. He would like to hide his face in his hands again, but he's no longer the boy who could barely say two words to a girl now. All his friends deserve the Midoriya who can actually communicate like a real person (most of the time).

Kaworu's statement about Midoriya's protection coincides with Paul suddenly choking a little on his own tacky spit, while and stuff nearly wrests a laugh that would be too nervous and high-pitched to be tolerable out of him, hastily transmuted into a clearing of his throat.

Someone has to take control of this situation before they ruin Midoriya's breakfast plans. Paul straightens his back resolutely, pulling back his shoulders, and plucks the foil packet from Kaworu's toying fingers.

"No. Don't apologize. You're right." He takes a bracing breath, firming up his grip on the eggplant. "It's best to be prepared for any eventuality. Pragmatics come first."

He said he knew how to use one of these. He might as well prove it.

"So," he says, briskly, "The first thing is to open the packet."

It's easily torn, a corner anchored between his teeth, and Paul slips the lubricated disk out between finger and thumb. He holds it up for Kaworu's edification, rotating it one way and then the other.

"You want to be sure it's oriented correctly, with the collecting tip protruding in the same direction as your - eggplant -" he's committing to this, apparently "- and you hold the tip between your fingers to prevent an air bubble as you unroll down the body, like so."

He's never been so grateful for having long fingers in his life. They allow him to sheath the bulbous tip of the eggplant in the prophylactic with his three free fingers while still securing the tip between index and thumb, without facing the horrible prospect of bracing it somewhere, or asking one of them to assist. Once started, he releases the end and glides the rest of the slippery thing down the vegetable easily enough.

"This is a fluid barrier," he explains, "It's meant to contain the-" he realizes, helplessly, what he's going to say next "-juices. Of your eggplant. Is that correct, Midoriya-kun?"

He's never making eye contact again. With anyone.

"Oh.

Is that all?"

Thankfully, Kaworu is paying attention, his red eyes usually fixed on Paul but occasionally glancing towards Midoriya, his chin propped up in a hand that rests on his knee. Certain parts like the opening the package with his teeth and watching Paul's long fingers work the eggplant that appeal to him more than the explanation.

He can't really understand why everyone is so put out by this. Do humans really have hang ups over this sort of thing? Even though something like this was invented for them to engage in pleasurable things without fear of consequences? Maybe it's the fear of closeness that still persists despite that.

Kaworu reaches over and picks up the eggplant and tosses it lightly in his hands a few times.

"And here I thought we were talking about sexual intercourse."

Someone needs to have courage here and it might as well be Kaworu because he subsequently has no fear. He was born to be the final messenger and he will continue to live up to that moniker.

Edited 2022-04-27 23:22 (UTC)

He concentrates on what Paul is doing, clinically, instead of looking directly at Paul or Kaworu or his own existential crisis. Paul is barely holding it together as it is, and one wrong look could deal the two of them irreparable psychic damage. (Kaworu is, apparently, immune.) The eggplant has Midoriya's full attention, because looking anywhere else guarantees he will die on the spot. Juices... And in nearly the same breath, Paul says his name like a dread summons.

"Probably shouldn't use your teeth to open it, but yeah... that's... yeah. Good. Great," he mumbles. Good. Great. Wonderful. He wishes Kaworu would stop waving the eggplant around, but, oddly, the ridiculousness of that makes all this a little less excruciating. It's... an eggplant. It looks stupid. He presses his lips tight on something that is not quite a laugh. It makes a strangled sound in his throat instead. He adds more clearly,

"They're single-use only. Put a new one on if you want to keep doing--eggplant stuff. If you two can find them all later, they're really better stored in their original packaging."

What do I... do now...? He didn't have a plan for how he would follow up this lesson and make it less awkward.

"Um..." he starts meekly, "breakfast's about ready. Just have to cook the omelette, but that takes no time. You should wash your hands and come down."

Or the earth could swallow him whole. That works too. He takes the eggplant from Kaworu. This is his mess, he's decided just now, so he'll clean this up.

Midoriya keeps his composure. For a while, it looks like Paul might too, his face fixed in a mask of raised eyebrows and tightly pursed lips as a muscle in his temple twitches. In the ongoing struggle of them just saying things, he can cope with sexual intercourse out of Kaworu, barely. He can even swallow eggplant stuff with a swift bob of his head.

It's hand washing and the attendant unintentional implications that undo him. Paul doubles over, looking very much like he might actually be sick, his back heaving in silent spasms, before he pops back up and drags Kaworu into an embrace, his slicked hands jutting awkwardly from his wrists as he presses a firm kiss to his angel's brow. He grins at Midoriya sidelong, his laughter finally softly audible.

"You're both terrible," he declares, his tension dissolving, "I just woke up. Yes - we'll clean up and come downstairs, if you promise that the omelette doesn't come with an explanation of eggs and where babies come from," he sticks the tip of his tongue in the corner of his mouth, a wicked urge overtaking him, "Izuku-kun."

He flutters his eyelashes, exaggerated to the point of absurdity.

Edited 2022-04-28 00:55 (UTC)

Mostly, Kaworu had just wanted to break through the awkwardness of the entire situation. So when Paul doubles over, he blanches, reaching out to awkwardly rub the other boy's back in a soothing and apologetic manner, and wondering how to fix something that you don't know how you broke.

Then suddenly Paul grabs him and pulls him into an embrace. At first he wiggles around like a cat being picked up against its will before settling in to his grip after a kiss is placed on his forehead.

"You woke up before me!" Is the huffed reply. Then he glances over at Midoriya, a smile on his face. "Ah, is that his role now. Unwilling educator? I suppose a hero needs to do what he can, even if he doesn't want to."

Midoriya knows Paul isn't actually being sick in the same way he knows that he, too, has something is stuck in his throat. It's less the part about washing hands, which he didn't mean, and more the part about making sure they've not got the--slippery stuff on them when they go downstairs, and the fact that he's clutching a well-wrapped vegetable. His previous absurd, untimely amusement at how stupid the eggplant looks escapes through his teeth in a shaking hiss like the delayed release of a broken dam.

The sudden flush of radish pink that colors his face is embarrassment--no, exasperation, as is the accompanying show of teeth--a grimace that immediately turns into a grin. He can think of only one correct response to what seems to be Paul's terrible rendition of how Kaworu insists on calling him by his given name.

He chucks the eggplant at Paul point blank and declares, "You're not ruining eggs for me too!"

He's glad to see Izuku smiling, laughing even. The air in the room feels lighter, a bit closer to something last night, where they were all at ease. Kaworu grins into Paul's collarbone, nuzzling it slightly, before leaning back and watching Izuku's grimace morph into a grin to match.

Then suddenly, Midoriya chucks the eggplant right at Paul. Ever a loyal guardian angel, Kaworu instinctively puts up his AT Field to deflect the projectile. It hits the field and then is violently flug backwards across the room. It hits the wall with a dull "thud" and then slides down, leaving a thin streak of lubricant on the wall.

This will probably get out of hand. Not that Kaworu minds.

"Paul would never do such a thing. We're just asking you to impart more knowledge."

Paul cuts short the raising of his arm to protect his face, dropping back to drape around Kaworu with a softly smug smile. He tucks Kaworu closer, his hesitancy overcome by the relaxed atmosphere.

The affection in his embrace is undeniable, gentle warmth blooming in his lowered eyes as he squeezes Kaworu just a little. If course he wasn't in any danger, not really - but the swift, definitive shielding brushes a sensitive, aching chord in him.

"No, we're not," Paul corrects, a trace of bedevilment still in him all the same, "If anything, we should teach Izuku-kun a thing or two, shouldn't we? It's not fair of us to be so greedy, and give him nothing back in return."

His focus flits back up to Midoriya, glinting challenge back in his expression. He's protected, after all. What does he have to worry about, with Kaworu watching over him?

"We should brush our teeth, now that I think about it."

His chin jerks, following the vegetable's trajectory with interest and fast reflexes. Really, the use of powers in one's own bedroom? What are they, animals? There's no salvaging that eggplant now--not that Midoriya planned to do anything but pitch that thing into the nearest field.

Head still cocked, his shoulders rise with his laugh. Midoriya can't even sigh at Kaworu's teasing, because he's the one making a mess of his own room.

Midoriya faces them properly, drawn like a plant to the sun, because he knows that tone of Paul's and how to answer it without hesitation. (His given name sounds strange in Paul's voice, like a borrowed shirt, odd and warm.)

"It doesn't actually sound threatening to switch names, Paul-kun, it just sounds like you're--" he's not going to say flirting, "being sentimental," he says helpfully with a steely grin. "But thank you for making sure your breath is fresh before we spar. Nagisa-kun, you're coming out with us too?"

Like the eggplant, everything is flying over his head.

"I've always called you Izuku-kun and you've never told me that I'm being sentimental," Kaworu pouts, going limp in Paul's arms as though rendered boneless by the sheer indignity of it all. "We've slept together now, you should call me by my given name."

But he's fine, being held here like this, looking at Midoriya upside down, as Paul bears most of his meager weight. Then he turns his eyes up to Paul, catching onto this playful plan. Or so he thinks.

"We should."

The discrepancy between Midoriya's innocence and his fixation on preparation for sensual acts makes more sense by the moment. Some kind and optimistic soul once inflicted an eggplant demonstration on him, Paul assumes, and he simply incorporated it unthinkingly into his arsenal of Heroic future actions.

"I was aspiring to provocative," Paul says, lightly, his smile positively feline, "I'll take sentimental."

Exchanging a look with Kaworu, he's fairly confident that at least he catches the intent, although they'll have to make sure they're in accord before they head downstairs.

"The sun still isn't up yet," he observes, recalling Kaworu's promise to rise before dawn (Paul's internal clock must have been thrown off, because it feels much later than that, but the edges of the curtains remain dark), "I think you should indulge Kaworu, at least until it does. Look at how tired he is of dealing with us already."

Does that make any sense? Not at all. Does Paul care? Not in the slightest.

"I'll go back to calling you Midoriya-kun if you do," he adds, as one more incentive.

Midoriya's reluctance to speak plainly is a self-sabotaging oversight. What Paul mistakes for innocence is awkwardness and a complete lack of expectation and experience. The last thing Midoriya wants to do is expect he's being given some permission he hasn't. He wants his friends to feel comfortable around him. He didn't think of what might happen if they patently did.

Unconscious and unbidden, his face turns an impressive shade of fuchsia. He wonders how Paul can be embarrassed about basic sex ed but insist on being--provocative. Knowing how to be safe has no consequences other than being safe. Flirting is communication, potentially an invitation.

We've slept together now... As Kaworu's words repeat in his ears, Midoriya glances down at his own clothes, as if he could forget they're there in one piece. He is painfully aware of how close they're all jumbled together, like on the couch earlier, with too much familiarity. (He doesn't even mind Paul's gross sweat, familiar from sparring.)

"That's--different... Suddenly switching is--You know," he says in exasperation as he lifts his eyes to Kaworu, with whom he shares a language. "Explain to Paul-kun that it sounds like--well--"

Like they've slept together. It's not untrue. Midoriya lets out a strangled sigh and scratches his own bedhead. In the end, it will matter less to him than to the other two.

"You guys can call me whatever, because it's you, Paul-kun... Kaworu-kun." He's going to have so much trouble remembering to call him that. He shifts under Kaworu's legs and against Paul's knee, an unconscious encouragement for them to go ahead and abrade their stupid mouth germs.

Hopefully, the delight that sparks in Kaworu's eyes when Midoriya calls him by his given name is enough to commit to memory, not playful or teasing but genuine. He wraps pale fingers around Paul's neck and heaves himself into a sitting position in the Duke's lap.

"It just means we're more intimate with each other than before. Isn't it a good thing, to have your heart open to other people?" He flicks red eyes down to where their legs are all intertwined as they were they night before. It is intimate. A sort of touch that many humans long for but would shy away from.

Still, he takes the encouragement and slides off Paul's lap and subsequently the bed, then offers a hand to Paul to pull him up as well. It's good, Midoriya encouraged them. Brushing his teeth will feel good and he needs to blow his nose as the pollen from March still irritates his system. A lot has changed in a month.

"Wait for us, Izuku-kun, okay?" Is the final request as he disappears into the bathroom.

There's a part of Paul that always looks to the limits of the world around him with an eye to test them. Flirtation is a form of exploration, the responses it garners the raw data for Paul's cartography of himself and others.

Midoriya flushes vividly at the intimacy of his personal name, but doesn't reject it outright. Like with the eggplant, he thinks of others alongside himself, if not indeed first: he seeks to protect Paul from misunderstood implications.

Kaworu's happiness is as vivid as Midoriya's embarrassment, and as authentic. It's rooted in the same positive regard, which Paul notes with increasing absentmindedness as the other boy ends up in his lap - and thing about maps is that they're not the territory. Paul can play with words for hours, but he's finding the reality (for now, he thinks, with unearned confidence) disarming, to say the least.

"So there are rules you know," he says, a declaration he meant to make triumphantly, softened as he brushes by Midoriya at the end of Kaworu's tugging hand, "Appreciated, Midoriya-kun."

He readily follows behind Kaworu, shadowing him to the sink where they may clean out their dirty mouths: "That sounds like exactly the kind of thing he's worried will ruin our reputations."

Midoriya has always been agreeable about his friends' autonomy. A person's reputation is theirs to ruin. To do that properly, it must be ruined in full knowledge.

On their heads be it. Midoriya has historically had a difficult time remembering to call people anything deviating from the usual. Inevitably, as he slips up, he will correct himself, and he will hope to see Kaworu brighten again when he makes this effort. He notes how Kaworu's eyes glance down over him, and it's not the first time. It doesn't necessarily mean anything--until it does. His legs feel electric, as does his side where Paul's knee brushes him.

Even as his face returns to its original color, he can muster no answer to either of them. He blinks at Paul, caught out in a half-lie, a flash of a small confusion and vulnerability in his eyes. Midoriya does somewhat know of rules, even if it's just part of his deep-rooted consideration for others. Sometimes that lends him an air of wisdom, a surprising understanding. He watches others and feels it out. The boy who can overanalyze combat strategies and even the taste of good food can hardly explain this thing.

Though he doesn't advertise it, in moments that he feels someone needs help, or when he feels particularly singled out and challenged, the mild-mannered polite hero-in-training breaks rules with impunity.

He watches them rise, taking their warmth with them but leaving a little behind on the bed and on Midoriya. He's relieved. He's not relieved. He wants--an unfamiliar feeling, wanting--the warmth back. This is all very exhausting. He's tempted to lie down on the bed again if he has to wait. Instead, he retrieves certain small wrappers and looks for a place to dispose of them.

Kaworu moves to the bathroom with a little half-skip walk, hand swinging backwards to brush against Paul's fingers to ensure the other boy is following. Like if he doesn't check, Paul might suddenly have vanished the next time he turns around, just something to be found in a dream.

He shivers a little, missing the warm bed, but his stomach is actually twisting and growling for food which is... highly unusual but spurs further action than he'd normally prefer to take in the mornings. So he lets himself lean against Paul's side, bobbing there slightly as he tries to not let himself collapse back into sleepiness.

A few times, he pokes his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, to be sure that Midoriya hasn't left either. Thankfully, Midoriya is still there, cleaning up bits of condom wrappings, and unaware that he is being checked on.

Good. This is all good.

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cw: sex ed, condom demonstration on produce

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