Chapter Text
“Hey, guys,” Izuku says, collapsing into a chair at the cafeteria table. “Do me a favor?”
“What do you need?” Kirishima asks, practically eager.
“I don’t think you can help,” Izuku responds apologetically, before turning toward Uraraka and Kacchan, who seem a little more suspicious of his sudden urge to actually ask for help with his problems. As they should be. “But with your quirks, it should be a piece of cake,” he reassures, probably not very reassuringly. “Can you just… launch me into the sun?”
***
From the tightening of his eyes, Todoroki Shouto isn’t especially impressed that Izuku has identified him.
To be fair, it isn’t exactly an impressive stunt. Between the bright, flowing hair, the intense, light eyes, and striking scar, Todoroki Shouto is probably one of the most recognizable figures in the city, if not the country.
“Oh my goodness,” Izuku says again. He’s talking to Todoroki Shouto , in his apartment building—in his very shitty apartment building, which he only lives in because he’s working an entry level office job…
“What are you doing here?” Izuku blurts.
Todoroki doesn’t flinch, exactly, but he seems to draw into himself just a little as he responds. “I live here.”
“Why?”
Izuku has lost control over his mouth. He winces as he watches Todoroki expression pulls into a frown; this is the hero known for keeping a blank expression while fighting Moonfish , what has he done…
“Sorry!” he yelps before Todoroki can say anything. “I’m sorry, I was just really surprised, it’s none of my business obviously and I guess you wouldn’t want a stranger in your apartment so I’ll just go—“
He backs away, wishing he could just melt into the floor.
“Wait.” Izuku stops, blinking up at Todoroki, whose eyes suddenly seem even more intense, like he’s glaring into Izuku’s soul. “Don’t tell anyone where I live.”
“O-okay,” Izuku starts, but Todoroki’s already shutting the door.
Izuku runs all the way back into his apartment and falls into his desk chair, heart pounding.
Todoroki Shouto lives directly beneath him, and forgets to water his plants for weeks on end, and probably thinks Izuku is a total creep and impossibly rude to boot.
Though the voices in his head are quiet, Izuku gets very little sleep that night.
***
Of course, Izuku can’t talk about all of this, so instead he gives his friends the short version.
“I noticed that someone had watered my neighbor’s plants last night, so I took your advice and went down to talk to him.”
Kirishima opens his mouth, then takes in Izuku’s expression and hesitates. “Was he that bad?”
“Just ask,” Uraraka says, “and I’ll throw Bakugou through his window.”
Kacchan doesn’t object to being used in Uraraka’s plot, either because he agrees with the sentiment, he wants an excuse to beat someone up, or because she’s developing a rather nasty (if hilarious) habit of throwing him at her problems and he’s gotten used to it. Probably one of the latter two, especially considering their last few fights.
“ He wasn’t bad,” Izuku says. “I, on the other hand, was a mess.”
Kacchan snorts. “More than usual?”
“Bakugou!” Kirishima scolds, and wonder of wonders Kacchan looks abashed.
“I’m sure you were fine,” Uraraka says.
Izuku bites his lip. She’s just… so wrong, but if he told her about any of the times he’d put his foot in his mouth, he’d have to explain why, and the one part of that conversation he has yet to fuck up is the part where Todoroki asked him not to tell anyone about him living there. So he just sighs.
“Your faith in me is extremely misguided, but appreciated,” he sighs, before perking up. “Speaking of extremely misguided, did you end up catching that Hauler guy? The vigilante?”
All three of them groan, and Izuku gives himself a mental pat on the back for a well-executed change of subject.
***
The problem is that Todoroki is suddenly everywhere.
It starts that evening, when the wind practically shoves Izuku through the doorway of the apartment building. He’s pulling a leaf out of his hair when a deep voice calls, “Hey.”
Izuku squeaks, whirling to face Todoroki, who’s leaning casually against the wall of the foyer, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. It’s one of the most surreal things Izuku has seen in his life, both because it’s Todoroki Shouto in casual clothes in Izuku’s terrible apartment building, and because no one in their right mind wears a t-shirt in this weather.
Except if they have a fire quirk, he supposes.
Todoroki tilts his head, his eyebrows twitching just slightly in… disbelief? Izuku realizes with a start that he just squeaked, like a mouse, and feels a blush light up his cheeks which is worse because (as he’s been told several times) he looks like a Christmas ornament when he blushes.
Apparently, Todoroki sees it too, because the way his mouth tightens makes it look like he’s holding in a smirk. Izuku covers his face with his hands, mortified.
“Did you need something?” he asks from between his fingers.
“Will they die?”
Izuku looks up. “What?”
“My plants, are they going to die? Can you tell?” Todoroki asks, and though his tone sounds casual, it somehow seems like a demand anyway.
“Um…” Izuku frowns. “No? Maybe the orchids, they’re pretty fragile,” he adds, somewhat uncharitably, and then he sees Todoroki’s face darken and backtracks. “I mean, they’ll most likely be fine, flowers are big drama queens, really. I think they’ll all probably be okay, as long as you water them consistently from now on?”
He glances at Shouto’s blank face and suddenly realizes how passive-aggressive that could come across. “Not that I’m judging you or anything! I know you’re busy, and it’s completely understandable that hero duties would take precedence, and anyway your plants seem very well taken care of so I’m sure it was a one-time thing. They’re actually very well placed for the appropriate amount of sun, and I guess you must keep your apartment pretty warm? Is that with your quirk, because you never use the fire side but a lot of plants will sort of dry out if you have the heater running all winter, and yours haven’t but they’re really warm, so I figured—“
Izuku suddenly pauses, horrified, and mentally reviews the last couple sentences. Is he incapable of not being creepy?
“Thank you,” Todoroki says, halting and painfully awkward, which is fair because what even is the proper response to that?
“You’re welcome,” Izuku responds, hand covering his face again. “Sorry,” he adds quietly as he heads for the stairs.
***
And then it just… keeps happening.
Mostly it’s just little things-- odd glances as they pass each other on the stairs or a perfectly civil nod when they happen to enter the apartment at the same time. Todoroki seems to be around a lot more, and sure enough, when Izuku checks, his arrest rates have taken a drop characteristic of the periods right after he makes a major bust.
This means the plants get watered regularly, but unfortunately it also means that Izuku finds himself in the basement at nearly midnight waiting for the dryer to finish a cycle and studiously not watching Todoroki load his own clothes into the washing machine. They don’t say a word to each other, but when Izuku can’t help but glance over his shoulder before he starts back up the stairs with his clothes, he finds Todoroki’s inscrutable eyes fixed on his back.
Another time, Izuku is waiting a few minutes in the entrance of the building because he doesn’t want to stand at the bus stop in the rain, and Todoroki comes down, stops, and stares at him unsettlingly for thirty seconds or more before leaving.
A few days later, he’s returning from a grocery run and regretting his decision to take the stairs when he stumbles, sending something tumbling out of his bag and down the stairs. He sighs and listens to it flop on the landing below, trying to psych himself up to go after it while striving not to drop anything else, when suddenly there’s the creak of a door opening. Izuku turns around, already almost knowing what he’s going to see—and sure enough, one flight below him, Todoroki has come through the fifth floor door and is bending to pick up whatever Izuku’s managed to drop.
Even worse, he’s clearly headed to work out, dressed in a tank top that reveals his well-developed shoulders and biceps. Izuku doesn’t know whether to bless or curse the baggy sweatpants that hide Todoroki’s most likely gorgeous legs.
Todoroki looks up at Izuku’s armful of groceries. “Do you need some help?”
“No, thank you,” Izuku rushes out, already turning tail and running up the stairs. He quickly juggles his keys and lets himself into his apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot before dropping the groceries unceremoniously on the kitchen counter.
Then he flops face-first on the bed and screams into his pillow.
Why do things like this happen to him? He happens to have a ridiculously attractive neighbor who’s also an incredible hero, and instead of being at all smooth or even vaguely normal, he just keeps coming off like a clumsy, stuttering creep.
There’s a knock on the door, and Izuku stares at it, horrified, absolutely certain of what he’ll find if he opens it. The knock comes again, more insistent, and finally he trudges over to answer, dread filling his steps.
Sure enough, when he opens the door, Todoroki Shouto is standing on the other side. He has to have run up the stairs to have gotten here so quickly, but he looks as cool and untouchable as ever, and Izuku wants to die .
“I thought you might want this back,” Todoroki says, holding out the thing Izuku had dropped. Looking down, Izuku thinks he can physically feel his soul exiting his body—it’s HeroWatch magazine, and the front cover is a picture of Todoroki, half his shirt torn off from a fight, with the headline Icy Cold and Burning Hot!
(He bought it for the interview with Froppy, but saying that would be worse than useless—besides, he can’t deny that it was the cover that got his attention.)
Mechanically, Izuku takes it. “Thank you.”
Instead of leaving, Todoroki tilts his head. “Were you screaming just now?”
Izuku definitely feels his face redden this time, and he stutters something incomprehensible that ends with a muttered, “Sorry.”
Todoroki doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks down at Izuku—he’s quite tall, especially compared to Izuku, and his eyes are gorgeous and cold, and this is all just completely and totally unfair. Finally, he responds.
“This building has thin walls. I can also hear you singing when you shower.”
This is it, the absolute end. Todoroki Shouto has heard Izuku’s overexuberant screeching in the shower, and he’s offended enough to actually mention it rather than politely ignoring it as Izuku is suddenly, unbearably realizing that all his other neighbors have been doing.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, and then, “I’ll stop.”
Before he or Todoroki can say anything else to make the situation worse, Izuku slams the door shut, and then realizes that he just slammed the door in Todoroki Shouto’s face.
Unable to even groan in frustration for fear he’ll be heard, Izuku settles for staring up at the ceiling and screaming internally.
This is the worst day.
***
A week later, he takes that sentiment back.
The day had started awkwardly enough—darting as fast as he could past the fifth floor door in order to avoid an encounter, only to nearly bowl Todoroki over where he was standing on the next landing—and it had just gone downhill from there.
When he’d gotten to work, he’d found that his more experienced coworkers had once again left for him the most tedious job, reading their press releases for grammatical mistakes. At any other agency, it would be down to the writer to make sure of that, but part of being the best in the country meant that their image had to be perfect too, and that meant every outgoing communication went through an extra pair of eyes—usually Izuku’s.
The problem was that, in order to maintain their image, hero agencies put out a press release anytime a hero or sidekick did anything , even something as simple as trip a purse snatcher. And so he was left reading through pages of the most boring day-to-day account heroes could produce.
Seriously ? he’d managed to chide himself. You’re complaining about reading hero reports? There was a time you would have done a lot to just hear about one of these incidents third hand.
Still, it had been with relief that he’d gone up to lunch—only to slink back down to his own floor a few minutes later after being informed by a condescending sidekick that Gamma Team was out on mission.
As he returns, his coworkers see him and snicker. “Your hero ‘friends’ finally get bored with you, Midoriya?” Kitamura asks.
“Not yet,” Izuku responds flatly, retreating into his own cubicle. He recalls Ito’s advice to hang out with the rest of the department more often, but growing up with Kacchan gave him enough experience as a social pariah to know that the best option to was to minimize interaction.
At least since he was still technically on his lunch break, he could watch the encounter live. Of course, on this day of disasters, even that wasn’t too much of a redeeming factor.
Gamma Team had gone out to ambush a hero killer suspect, Magne, who they’d discovered would be at a lunch meeting with some other unknown criminal.
At first, the fight was going well, Uravity and Ground Zero launching Red Riot straight at Magne in an explosive opening move that was probably trademarked at this point. But the problem with being so well known was that people could plan for you.
As Izuku had watched, Magne had activated her quirk, causing Red Riot to be pulled toward her with great force. Weightless, his speed had increased much faster than he had probably expected, and Magne had quickly darted aside, bringing up her own signature iron bar.
Even with his formidable armor, Kirishima was going far too quickly to take a hit like that and pop right back up. He’d managed to scramble out of the way of any further attacks, but it was clear from his scrambled balance that he wouldn’t be jumping back into the fight anytime soon.
Uravity and Ground Zero were an incredible team on their own, of course, but Magne’s quirk seemed specifically designed to undercut their highly agile approach. The heroes were holding their own, but being constantly yanked toward each other at inopportune moments, or yanked toward some random passerby, was beginning to take its toll, and so it had been with relief that Izuku had noticed Shouto arriving on the scene, at first.
Except for one thing he’d forgotten—not only did Kacchan harbor a grudge against the icy hero, he also hated to share a battlefield.
He’d started shouting almost immediately, although to his credit he hadn’t been so juvenile as to stop fighting Magne during that time. Unfortunately, that might have been the better option. If Magne’s power had been a hindrance to the well-oiled teamwork of Gamma Team, it was deadly to the utter lack of communication between them and Shouto.
When Izuku’s break had ended, he’d been watching as Uraraka was being yanked against a rapidly appearing barrage of ice, Kacchan sliding along the frost coated ground in the opposite direction as Shouto was thrown backwards off of his feet. He’d been almost relieved to close the window and stop watching, even frustrated as he’d been with his work. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, he received a notification on his Hero Watch app: Hero Killer Magne defeats Shouto and three of the city’s most promising sidekicks! Watch now.
And now here he was, walking home and slipping every other step where the sidewalks were frozen from the rain that morning.
The thing was… the whole thing had been completely preventable , Izuku thinks, perhaps a little uncharitably. Besides the obvious animosity Kacchan had for Shouto, there were a million places where the heroes could have avoided mishaps or even captured the villain if only they had all been working together, or there had been someone with the camera’s view coordinating their movements.
Izuku imagines trying to tell Kacchan this and snorts aloud at the image. He was going to be angry enough that the phrasing of the headlines all highlighted that he was only a sidekick while Shouto was a full pro; he’d blow his lid if he found out Izuku thought he knew how to handle the situation better. Really, he doubted any hero would appreciate the suggestion that they needed someone to tell them how to do their job; and they were right, really. Pro heroes spent years training to take down villains, both in competition and cooperation. There was no way that they’d accept the suggestions of some fresh college graduate who’d never fought a villain.
It's at that thought that cruel irony kicks in, and a hand latches onto the back of Izuku’s shirt, pulling him into an alley.
He starts to scream, only for a rough hand to cover his mouth, stifling the sound. He flails for a moment, trying to regain his balance as he’s thrown against the alley wall, only to freeze at the cold press of some sharp object at his throat, tilting his head back.
“Hello, there, sweetheart,” says a rasping voice behind him. Izuku tries not to flinch. “Stay nice and still now.”
“W-what do you want?” he stutters, terrified. If he gets killed here, no one will even notice that he’s gone until tomorrow morning—and his mom , who’s even going to tell her what happened? She’d been so proud of him, getting his dream job in the city and going to live on his own—proud and worried.
“Not much, dear,” says his attacker. As she chuckles, Izuku can feel her breath ruffle his hair, strangely even colder than the winter air around them—some kind of ice quirk, perhaps?
She’s threatening you with a knife, he scolds himself. It’s not her quirk you should be thinking about.
“Just whatever’s in your bag, to start with,” she orders.
Izuku carefully lets his bag slide off his shoulder, suppressing a hysterical laugh. She must have picked him out because of his attire—there weren’t a lot of salarymen in this part of town. Little does she know, his shoes are the second-most expensive thing he owns, and his laptop is back in his apartment.
“Open it,” the robber commands, and Izuku fumbles with the zipper nervously. When he finally gets the main compartment open, everything inside spills out, and he suppresses an irrational wince at hearing his notebook flutter to the floor alongside his water bottle, an empty flash drive he keeps forgetting to leave in his desk, and the container for his lunch.
“I don’t have anything else,” he says, voice coming out high and scared. His attacker tsks.
“How sad,” she croons. “But you’re wrong, you know,” she continues, and is it Izuku’s imagination or is her breath going colder? He can’t suppress a shiver, even as he feels the woman’s blade press against his throat.
“I promise,” he responds desperately. “There’s nothing else there…”
And then a hard fist is jabbing him in the back, by his kidneys. Izuku doubles over, gasping, and can’t comprehend for a moment how he’s not dead, before he realizes that the knife had been pulled away. He has a brief moment of pained incomprehension, and then a hand is grasping at his hair, pulling him up straight, and that breath is definitely colder now.
He puts it together suddenly, feeling like an idiot. This isn’t just any robber—somehow, he’d caught the attention of the freezing villain, Frozen Heart, whose quirk allows her to drastically lower the body temperature of organic material with her breath.
She was wanted not only for theft, but for serial murder.
Izuku struggles violently even as he can feel his nose start to go numb. She’s much stronger than she should be, and his neck is screaming in pain with the force of her pull, but he lashes out with his foot, managing to connect solidly with her shins.
Frozen Heart stumbles back, and Izuku feels a bit of his hair go with her, but it’s a small sacrifice compared to losing his life. He scrambles forward, trying to reorient himself and get out of the secluded alley, but just as he recognizes the lights of the main street, he’s tackled roughly onto his back, a heavy weight falling on his torso and driving the breath out of him.
“That was rude,” the villain purrs, pale eyes glinting like ice crystals in the faint moonlight. Then she holds out her hand, palm flat and fingers together, and breathes out.
As Izuku watches, horrified, frost creeps over the appendage, her fingers bound together by stiff cold. Then ice creeps over them, growing to form stiff points above each fingernail.
She reaches down towards his neck, and he struggles as hard as he can, trying to push her off or even gasp for a breath, but her weight on his chest is like a glacier—
There’s the low, grinding sort of crackle of ice sliding against ice, and then with a glittering impact Frozen Heart is thrown clear and Izuku can breathe.
He scrambles backward, looking around, and there at the mouth of the alley stands a familiar-looking silhouette. As the figure advances, another line of ice rushing past him, Izuku breathes out in wonder.
“Shouto? What are you doing here?” gasps the villain, leaping out of the way of the attack. Her movements are slower now, and when she lands it’s on two feet, but her unfrozen hand is clutched to her ribs in pain. Still, after a moment she sinks into an offensive stance. “Are you sure you want to fight me, icy hero?”
“I’d prefer it if you surrendered,” Todoroki drawls flatly, advancing into the alley. “But I suppose you’re not that intelligent.”
Frozen Heart hisses at him, and a cold wind sweeps from her mouth, above Izuku’s head and across the alley, catching Todoroki full in the face. Despite his plain clothing, jeans and a grey flannel—or perhaps because of it, the way it declares casual defiance of such mortal concepts as cold-- in that moment Todoroki looks absolutely otherworldly, two-toned hair flowing in the unnatural breeze and eyes seeming to glow even more coldly than the villain’s.
Izuku stares, breathless, as the hero tilts his head, frost crawling up his bare forearms and along his cheeks. It spreads evenly for a moment before suddenly beginning to build up on his right side, and then ice skids along the pavement, forcing Frozen Heart to dodge once again.
But… there’s something wrong. Even injured as she is, the villain doesn’t seem winded by the movement, and Izuku realizes with shock that Shouto’s ice had come significantly slower this time. He takes another look and notices the way the hero’s hands shake almost imperceptibly, how his jaw is set as if to keep his teeth from chattering and his steps are deliberate but slow.
Frozen Heart seems to notice it too, grinning before breathing out another wave of cold air. This time, Shouto appears to understand what’s about to happen, and a wall of ice starts to sprout in front of him. But as cold as he already is, he can’t create it fast enough to completely shield himself, and as Izuku watches frost crawls up the hero’s face, covering his right eye completely.
He realizes suddenly that the situation he’d dreaded is before him, now. Shouto has unwittingly walked into a fight with a villain with a near-perfect counter for his ice powers—to use them now could lower his temperature to a dangerous degree, and there was clearly no backup coming. This might be the day that Shouto died, and whether or not Izuku died with him, it would be his fault.
As Frozen Heart lunges toward the hero, Izuku throws himself forward from his place against the wall, his shoulder impacting her legs. There’s a brief moment of triumph before he's kicked in the side, Frozen Heart's unnatural strength sending him off his feet. He manages to turn his momentum into a roll, thanking the self-defense classes he’d taken in college as he returns to his feet. The villain is turning away from him, and Izuku seizes the moment, lunging in for a kick to her injured rib.
But faster than he'd imagined possible, her arm comes around and catches the limb, slowing it until the impact with her side is barely even detectable. Still, she winced before breathing out on his arm, frost crawling up it immediately along with a vague numbness.
He gasps, as much in surprise as in pain, even as the frost creeps further toward his neck. The air he gulps in is so cold it burns, and her freezing wind stings his eyes.
She advances once more, smirking. Izuku stares at her, eyes wide, mind scrambling to push his body back into motion. Then she stops, eyes fluttering shut as she crumples to the ground.
Behind her, hair glowing in the light of the street like a two toned halo, is Todoroki Shouto. His face still glitters with frost, but he’s breathing heavily with exertion, melting ice dripping into his wild eyes.
Feeling suddenly weak, Izuku sits down right where he is, disregarding the grime of the alley.
“Thank you,” he breathes, once he can even find the strength to move his tongue. He looks up at Shouto, forcing a smile even though he feels exhausted. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up when you did.”
“Died, probably,” Shouto responds flatly, and Izuku looks down, feeling tears prick at his eyes. Shouto's right, however insensitive it is—if he hadn’t been there, probably walking home as well, Izuku would probably have died here in this alley, among the dumpsters and broken beer bottles and… whatever else is on the ground back here. He should really get up.
“The police should be here soon,” Shouto says. “I called them using the incident headset I use for work, so they’ll have containment units.”
There’s the sound of footsteps, and Izuku lifts his eyes from the cigarette butt a few inches away from Frozen Heart’s fingers, watching Shouto’s white boots as he goes to lean against the wall. He listens to the warm chords of the mold growing in the dumpster behind him, watching one boot tap-tap-tap against the pavement.
“I’m sorry about this,” he tells that pristine white shoe, biting his lip as it stills in attention. “I know you’re busy, and that you don’t like me…”
“What?” Shouto says, sounding confused enough that Izuku looks up. Blue and red lights flash off his hair, and as he tilts his head sirens almost drown out his next words. “Of course I like you.”
Then he’s turning and waving to get the attention of the policemen climbing out of the cars at the mouth of the alley, and Izuku is left gaping at his back.
***
It takes a matter of minutes for Frozen Heart to be loaded into the back of a police van. An officer with a soft voice and a cat’s head offers Izuku a hand, guiding him to sit on the back bumper of the patrol car and checking him for major injuries before settling a blanket around his shoulders.
“For your arm,” he says, though Izuku knows full well that it’s a shock blanket.
The officer prompts him to describe the incident, and he calmly recalls the events until Frozen Heart had pinned him to the floor.
“Then Shouto came, and knocked her away with some ice,” Izuku finishes, watching as the officer Shouto is talking to flips her notebook shut. The hero walks toward them, nodding slightly as he passes. “He fought her, and I got up and she got distracted, and then he knocked her out.”
“Okay,” the cat-headed officer responds, smiling. He’s not writing anything down. “Well, I’m glad everything turned out alright.”
“Right,” Izuku confirms, feeling like he’s forgotten something.
“You shouldn’t have to testify,” the other officer announces, stepping toward them, “but let me take down your information, just in case.”
So Izuku gives her his name and phone number, looking down at her notepad to make sure she’s copying it down correctly. She has a few pages of notes, clearly detailing the whole incident from Shouto’s perspective. Izuku supposes if they need his story, they won’t have a problem summoning him to appear in court. Frozen Heart has a laundry list of more serious crimes than one random mugging, and in any case Shouto’s testimony for this incident would likely be enough to put her away for a while, but it’s not a bad idea to be cautious.
“Alright, Mr. Midoriya,” the officer finishes. “Would you like us to drive you home?”
“Oh! No,” he responds, lips quirking at her surprised look. “No, I live right over there,” he explains, pointing at his tall apartment building on the next block. “There’s no need to bother over me.”
“I see,” she says, frowning in worry as Izuku stands and hands her the blanket. “Well, I suppose, that’s all, then, if you’re sure.”
“I’m alright,” he assures her. “Thank you, and have a good night.”
He takes a few hesitant steps forward, oddly hesitant even though the likelihood of getting attacked again, especially with an obvious police presence this close, is infinitesimally low. Still, there’s a creeping up his spine, a heaviness in his step, and the niggling thought that he’s forgotten something…
“Midoriya, wait!”
Izuku turns, frowning, to find Todoroki speed-walking towards him, holding a familiar bag.
“Oh,” he says, feeling like an idiot as he takes it and slings it over his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Todoroki stares at him, and Izuku blinks back, too exhausted to let the awkwardness bother him. Finally, Todoroki speaks.
“Would you like to walk together?”
Izuku swallows. “Of course.”
Without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, Todoroki sets off toward their apartment building. After a bemused moment, Izuku darts to catch up, trying to set a pace that matches Todoroki’s longer strides.
He glances up and finds Todoroki eyeing him, though his head is still facing forward. This morning, Izuku would have interpreted the sideways glance as judgmental or even derisive, but now he has an admission that Todoroki not only isn’t disgusted with him, but apparently actively likes him. Perhaps the slight downturn of his lips, then, is from awkwardness or uncertainty, not disgust.
Finally, Todoroki seems to make up his mind about what to say. “Why did you think I didn’t like you?”
By the time Izuku considers holding back his snort it’s too late. Todoroki’s mouth pinches, and is that frustration with Izuku or perhaps with himself for saying something wrong? This man’s body language is so odd .
Still, he should probably explain his reaction before Todoroki actually does take offense.
“It’s just… there’s really no reason for you to like me,” he explains. “I feel like every time we talk, I say or do something embarrassing or creepy or just… rude. And then you’re…” he gestures vaguely, trying to indicate Todoroki’s general incredibleness.
“Socially inept?”
“No!” Izuku protests, then checks himself with a chuckle. “Well, maybe. But that’s not what I meant,” he adds hurriedly. “You’re just very… cool. In every possible sense.”
They’ve reached the door of the building, and Izuku reaches out and holds it open for Todoroki, who steps through with an infinitesimally raised eyebrow.
“So... you think I’m intimidating?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Todoroki hums.
Izuku eyes the door to the stairwell, then the battered grate of the lift. It’s a bad idea, but…
“Fuck it,” he sighs, heading for the elevator. Todoroki follows, quiet once again.
Once inside, Izuku presses the button for the sixth floor, then, with a glance at Todoroki, the fifth. With a steely groan that makes him wince, the mechanism grinds into activity, and the floor jerks up before rising more steadily, though there’s a vaguely ominous clicking noise that doesn’t fade.
It’s as cold outside as it inside, and Izuku’s shirt is wet from the frost that his body heat has melted. Todoroki seems to notice him shivering, eyes narrowing, and Izuku bites back the instinctive embarrassment that surges in his throat.
“Can I…?” Todoroki asks, reaching out with his left hand, and Izuku’s eyes widen.
“O-of course!” he stutters, a little too loud even considering the racket that the elevator gears are putting off. As the number on the elevator clicks to 2, Todoroki lays a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder, and then his entire left side seems to radiate a gentle warmth, like standing next to one of the space heaters on restaurant patios. Izuku involuntarily sighs with contentment, the feeling of security heightening as they pass Ms. Yuko’s apartment, where the herb garden she maintains religiously is slumbering contentedly in a window box.
“I didn’t know you could use your quirk this way,” he comments, letting his eyes flutter shut as the elevator continues to click upward. “I guess I’m not as big of a hero fan as I thought.”
Todoroki doesn’t respond, but his grip on Izuku’s shoulder tightens, and Izuku opens his eyes in confusion. To his surprise, Todoroki is frowning—not the flat expression Izuku has been interpreting as a frown for the last week, but a real one, irritation reaching all the way to his eyes.
Izuku is almost too scared to break the silence. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“The clicking stopped,” Todoroki says, removing his arm to gesture at the wall of the elevator. “I think we’ve stopped moving.”
Above them, the arrow indicating the floor sits halfway between three and four, and Izuku swallows, stomach sinking. “I should have known this would happen.”
Todoroki tilts his head. “It’s never happened to me before.”
“Well, some of us are luckier than others.” Izuku reaches into his pocket, getting out his phone and calling the building manager. “Hey, it’s Midoriya. The elevator’s broken again.”
“Seriously?” asks the manager. “I’m going to ban you from using it, Midoriya.”
Izuku winces. “It’s not just me this time?”
“Even better.” There’s a pause. “I’ll call the maintenance crew; they should be there in twenty minutes or so.”
“Thanks.” Izuku turns to Todoroki. “He says the building maintenance people will be here in about twenty minutes. They should have it sorted out pretty quickly after that.”
“I take it this happens often?”
“Yeah,” Izuku replies, going back to studying his feet. “Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Todoroki asks, stepping closer once again. “It’s not like you were the one who stopped the elevator.”
“No, I guess not.”
“I’m surprised, though. Like I said, this has never happened to me before.”
“You’ve only lived here a few weeks,” Izuku responds. “And I’m sure nothing like this ever happened in the places you used to live.”
Todoroki eyes him sideways. “Why does me living here bother you so much?”
“I just can’t think of any reason you’d want to,” he explains.
“If you think it’s so terrible, why do you live here.”
“It’s what I can afford.”
There’s a long pause as Todoroki stares into the middle distance, and Izuku barely hears when he replies, “Well, me too.”
Izuku has to bite back his immediate disbelief. He’s a dedicated hero fan—he knows what kind of pay Shouto should be raking in, especially given the fairly minimal property damage and sheer number of the fights he gets into. Moreover, Todoroki doesn’t have university debt like Izuku, and Endeavor almost certainly paid his UA tuition. There should be no reason for him to live in a place like this.
But at the same time, Todoroki sounds sincere, if a little ashamed to have to admit it, and Izuku doesn’t have to imagine how mortified he would be at someone prying into his financial situation, given the fight he’d had with Kacchan. So he keeps his mouth shut.
Todoroki is eyeing him, though his gaze darts away nervously as soon as he notices Izuku looking. Heat is still rolling off his left side, though, and Izuku thinks of how awkward Todoroki seems to be socially, how anxious it probably made him to answer Izuku’s questions, and feels something warm uncurl in the left side of his own chest.
“Since the elevator isn’t technically my fault, but it’s never broken with you in it before,” he starts finally, “I guess I’m just apologizing for getting you caught up in my bad luck,” he jokes, smiling up at Todoroki and rubbing the back of his neck. Todoroki blinks, eyes going a little wide, and… is he blushing?
“It’s not a problem,” he mutters, fingers toying with his sleeve. He’s definitely blushing.
A suspicion starts to form in Izuku’s mind, and he shakes his head, feeling ridiculous. There’s no way.
“Well, I’m glad,” he responds instead. “I feel like I’ve inconvenienced you enough today.”
“Saving people is literally my job.”
“Still, you were off duty—“
“Besides,” Shouto cuts off, making Izuku “You saved me too, back there, jumping at the villain like that. And you didn’t even mention it to the police.”
It’s Izuku’s turn to blush now. “I mean, it didn’t really matter, you would have been fine, right?”
Shouto blinks. “If you thought that, why did you jump in?”
“Oh,” Izuku replies. “You had ice all over you, and I know that your body temperature decreases when you use your quirk, and I thought it wouldn’t be safe. I guess I didn’t realize you could do this,” he continues, gesturing around. “I knew your quirk was registered as half-cold half-hot, but there’s no evidence of you using it so I figured it probably didn’t work. That, or it has some severe drawbacks in a fight—and I guess warming up too fast after you got that cold would probably be dangerous. I entertained a theory for a while that just like your ice makes you cold, your fire burns you, but that’s inconsistent with your father’s quirk, and anyway it doesn’t seem like your ice directly affects you, it just lowers the temperature around you in a way that’s harmful, especially in combination with Frozen Heart’s quirk…”
Izuku’s eyes have gone unfocused at this point as he continues to mutter, forgetting that the subject of his interest is right in front of him, so when Shouto snorts he catches himself with a start.
“Are you a… fan of mine?”
“Wha- no!” Izuku yelps, waving his arms, before realizing how his denial could be offensive. “I mean, I think you’re really cool, you’re one of my favorite heroes, but I’m just really into hero analysis in general, actually! And I guess in this case it kind of got away from me—I do that sometimes if you let me theorize, I’m like one of those vines you have to prune so they don’t collapse under their own weight, you know.”
“I can see that,” Shouto responds, and wonder of wonders he seems almost… amused? And not even in the ‘Deku’s such a weirdo’ sort of way that’s always been common among Izuku’s peers, but as if he actually finds Izuku’s muttering interesting and his energetic flailing endearing. “You’re wrong, you know.”
Izuku makes a questioning noise.
“You did save me back there,” Shouto explains, eyes downcast. “And your theories were actually correct—my fire doesn’t hurt me, but I never use it in fights.”
“Why?” Izuku asks.
Todoroki looks up, a little wary. “You ask that a lot.”
“Well, you’re confusing,” Izuku responds defensively. “I obviously offend you every time we talk, and yet you almost seem to seek me out. You have an apartment full of really nice, expensive plants you don’t water, in a neighborhood that’s more suitable for criminals than a pro hero. You have a powerful quirk that you don’t use even though it’s perfect for your job. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Eyes narrowed, Todoroki snaps, “You don’t understand anything about my life or my quirk, so—”
“No, but--” Izuku bites his tongue, forcing himself to unclench his fists as he looks away, watching frost start to crawl the corner of the elevator. “You’re right, I don’t have any right to comment.”
“You might as well say what you’re thinking,” Todoroki replies. “Since you’re clearly upset with me.”
“Fine!” Izuku barks, turning and feeling tears prick at his eyes. “Fine. I’m thinking , what kind of reason could you have for not using your fire?” All the heat has leeched out of the elevator now, but Todoroki asked and he’s damn well getting his answer. “I’m thinking that if it means you have to be helped by the person who’s relying on you to save them, then maybe it’s not that good of a reason.”
“I—“ Todoroki catches his breath, frustrated. “I can reach number one without this power.”
“Number one? You’re not going to break the top three,” Izuku snorts, and he always cries when he’s angry but this time the tears are cold against his cheeks. “You can’t even beat Frozen Heart, and you expect to beat Endeavor? Hawks? Lemillion? ”
Todoroki glares, and a part of Izuku is screaming that this is dangerous, but he’s so exhausted of not being able to change anything, and all he can see is Todoroki covered in ice, nearly murdered in a back alley because he was too proud to use the power he’s been given.
“You need to think about that ego of yours,” he bites out, “before one of those hero killers decides to come up with a plan to take out the idiot who’s trying to half-ass his way to the top to prove a point.”
Todoroki stumbles back, looking horrified, and for a moment there’s a heavy shocked stillness as they both process what Izuku’s said. Then Todoroki’s fists clench and the temperature plummets, frost painting itself across every surface—including Izuku’s body. He has just a moment to glimpse the furious hurt in Todoroki’s eyes and think, irrationally, good, he listened, when the elevator jolts back into motion.
Turning away sharply, Todoroki seems to come back to himself, and a wave of dry heat, not at all gentle as it had been before, evaporates the frost as if it had been no more than a dream. A few seconds later, the door opens to the fourth floor, and Todoroki steps out, shoulders hunched. “Well, if that’s what you think, I’ll stay out of your way.”
If that’s how you’re going to be , Izuku thinks as the doors slide shut, then please do.