Work Text:
Shouto is whisked away as soon as he steps inside the coffee shop. Midoriya manoeuvres him in the sea of people, the barista’s grip unyielding as Shouto’s dragged by the forearm to the counter.
Behind the counter.
“Midoriya, what are you—?”
“You know how a cash machine work, don’t you? Be our cashier.”
Shouto assumes he does know how a cash machine work. It shouldn’t be more complicated than analysing novels.
The Oxymel is crowded, each table drowning under cups and mugs. Some customers are even sitting on the piano stool, sipping their drinks, because of the lack of places. Shouto catches bits of conversations in a language he can’t quite pinpoint.
“It’s been like this since my shift started,” Midoriya informs him as he fumbles with the espresso machine. “I don’t know why coffee shops are like a lighthouse for tourists.”
He tugs harder at the portafilter, his lips twitching into a feral sneer when it doesn’t even budge. Shouto swats Midoriya’s hand away and wrenches the odd tool until it comes unstuck. He hands it to Midoriya who grins at him, grateful.
“See? You have what it takes to be a barista. Now off to the cashier.”
Shouto obeys. It takes him a few seconds to find the good drink option on the dashboard, but it’s the only challenge he encounters. The tourists order in choppy Japanese but at least Shouto understands them. He does grasp a few words as they chat in the line, but still has trouble identifying the mysterious language. For some reason, they all order the same thing.
“Café noisette with a croissant,” they tell him one after one like clones.
And so in three minutes the Oxymel’s entire batches of croissants as well of almond croissants vanish.
Shouto remains as a temporary cashier for half an hour before the tide shifts and the throng ebbs away. The Oxymel becomes quiet and empty but it’s welcomed. Shouto catches a glimpse of Midoriya and Uraraka high-fiving each other, their features drawn albeit cheerful.
“Thank you, Todoroki-kun. We wouldn’t have made it without you.”
Midoriya holds his palm, eager, and Shouto slaps it with his own uncertainly. He was glad he had seen the two baristas exchanging a high five beforehand or else Shouto would’ve been at loss.
“Mineta was supposed to be here today but he didn’t show up,” Uraraka grumbled as she wiped the counter with a clean rag. “I’m definitely telling Aizawa-san.”
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya apologises, even falling in a curt bow. “I can give you my tip if you want—”
Shouto shuts him up with a kiss, murmuring, “There’s my reward.”
“Alright, lovebirds. Now that the rush’s gone, Todoroki can go back to his table.”
“He doesn’t have to,” Midoriya intervened, latching on Shouto’s arm like a koala. “He can stay here if he wants to. Do you want to stay with us, Todoroki-kun?”
How could Shouto refuse such an invitation?
Thus he remains behind the counter with the two baristas, chatting with them and being the cashier once a customer orders. Depending of the drink, it’s either Midoriya or Uraraka who brews it. Shouto examines them like he would’ve done if he still carried his notebook but watching Midoriya from a table isn’t like watching Midoriya inside the counter. With the coffee machines and the pastry displays, Shouto’s vision was blocked and he didn’t realise how bustling Midoriya was, rushing around as he struggled to hold ten empty cups.
Shouto comes up with a pattern deduced from their motions. The two barista had established a system so they could work without hindering the other. Midoriya’s the one making all the teas and everything related to espresso-based drinks. He’s also in charge of frothing and steaming milk as well as the crema. As for Uraraka, she was on the pastries, drip coffee and smoothies.
Even with them functioning like well-oiled gears, they still needed Shouto as their cashier. The tide was rising when the clock hands neared five o’clock. The baristas would’ve been submerged had it not been from Shouto’s gracious volunteering.
Still, he expects lots of kisses as a reward once the day’s over.
Mineta doesn’t show up on the next day, even though his name’s written down in a purple pen and highlighted in yellow on the schedule. This time, Midoriya’s working with Shouto’s least favourite barista: Bakugou Katsuki.
“We really need you as our cashier, Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya tells him when Shouto reaches them to order his red espresso.
“We’re fine without this bastard,” Bakugou scoffs as he pours coffee in a pink mug. “I can be the cashier and make all the drinks just fine.”
“We already said that you can’t be the cashier because you scare people, Kacchan.”
Bakugou’s head whips away and he growls, “Like your boyfriend’s any better?”
Shouto admits he has a point but Midoriya doesn’t think so.
“Todoroki-kun is not scary. He doesn’t yell at people to speak louder, doesn’t glare at them and doesn’t judge their drinks like a certain someone does.”
Bakugou doesn’t deny it, much to Shouto’s surprise. Perhaps he’s misjudged the spiky blond, then, perhaps he has some kind of self-awareness. Bakugou glances over his shoulder to see the line increasing before giving in.
“This better not become a habit.”
In the end, it does.
Each time Mineta’s name appears along with Midoriya’s, it’s Shouto who fills the gap. The other baristas don’t mind, knowing him as a previous regular who got his tongue untied by the newest of them. It’s not far from the truth, actually. Shouto even wears Midoriya’s second apron now, cementing his belongingness to the Oxymel staff.
“I think we should show him how the machines work,” Midoriya ponders aloud, earning a dirty look from Bakugou.
“He doesn’t even work here.”
“He might as well since he’s here three days on seven.”
And so Shouto learns how Midoriya made his first espresso, the day Shouto met him on that cloudy September morning. There are two sizes for portafilters, one for the regular espresso and one for the double espresso, and on that day Midoriya took the regular one. Afterwards he fit the ground coffee snuggly in the grouphead using the tamper. Finally, taking a small cup from the second drawer on the very left, he activated the machine by pressing a few buttons, and the liquid streamed in the cup. This had all been behind the scenes, and Shouto only received the final product along with Midoriya’s warm smile for free.
His smile had been better than the espresso, now that Shouto thinks about it.
“Do you want to try?”
Shouto complies, taking the portafilter from Midoriya’s hand. It’s rather easy. He only has to press a few buttons and place the cup directly underneath the portafilter. Midoriya beams beside him, taking the cup from his hands and bringing it to his lips. Shouto is mesmerised as he watches Midoriya sip his coffee, Midoriya’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
“It’s good,” he hums. “What do you know about espresso-based coffee?”
“Not much.”
What he knows is what Midoriya told him during his daily rambling. He knows about latte, cappuccino and americano, but that’s as far as his knowledge goes.
“Because some drinks require one espresso and others, double espresso. When you get an order, you have to know how many espresso shots you need. For example, if someone orders a café noisette like we had earlier, you need to prepare a double espresso using the double portafilter.”
“What about cups and mugs?”
Midoriya’s eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. “You don’t have to worry about it. Just take smaller cups for espressos and if we need a bigger cup, then I’ll transfer it. For now, we have this sheet to help you memorise the coffee drinks.”
It’s an espresso chart with ingredient ratios, the types of cups to use also illustrated. He didn’t know there were so many drinks deriving from one original espresso. He assumes coffee is like a book. You never in what world you stumble in until you’re buried deep.
“Don’t worry about it,” Midoriya insists, drawing his attention. He’s offering him a sheepish smile, one hand smoothening his apron nervously. “I wanted to apologise. I know you’re here because you want to help and it’s really appreciated but summer will end and then you’ll have to worry about college. I want you to know we’re not going to enslave you and make you work for free and not let you go once summer’s over. It’s my fault, really, because I kind of forced you in the beginning, and now that Mineta’s never there but you always are…”
“I understand, Midoriya, and it’s alright.”
“But you’re not even paid—”
“I don’t care about money,” Shouto interjects, his voice gentle. “Midoriya, I was spending time with you during your breaks. They’re fifteen to thirty minutes long. I adore being with you, but fifteen to thirty minutes is awfully short. Now I can spend my entire day by your side. Isn’t this fantastic?”
“Get a fucking room!” Bakugou snarls, slapping Midoriya with a dry rag.
Instead of distancing himself from Shouto, Midoriya rather steps forward, still fretting, lines creasing his forehead. Shouto doesn’t like those lines. He smoothens them one by one with kisses, his hands rubbing Midoriya’s back in soothing circles. Still, as he pulls away a little, he notices how Midoriya’s lower lip wobbles, a sign he’s on the verge of crying.
“You never bother me, Midoriya. Ask me anything you want.”
Midoriya trembles in his embrace, peeking up, “Then I ask you to kiss me.”
Shouto bends down to answer his request when Bakugou rams into them. Midoriya immediately hugs Shouto so he wouldn’t fall as Shouto’s grip reinforces against him. They stumble backwards, legs tangled, as Bakugou pushes them across the counter until their back meet the wall.
“I told you to get a fucking room so there’s one!” is the last thing they hear before the back store door slams in their face.
Then they hear the sound of the lock.
Both Shouto and Midoriya stare at the door, dumbfounded.
“Don’t tell me he was stupid enough to do this,” Shouto whispers, incredulous.
Midoriya lets go of Shouto, trudging through the boxes to get to the door. He twists the handle but the door doesn’t budge.
“Kacchan!” He shouts, banging his fist on the door. “Kacchan, open the door.”
There’s no sound on the other side, or perhaps Shouto mishears a stifled ‘You’ll thank me later, fuckers’. He isn’t sure what to think so he leans against the wall, folding his arms.
“It’s useless, Midoriya. I think he’s not going to let us out.”
Midoriya keeps on hitting the door, calling for the other barista. He’s frenzied and Shouto knows what he’s thinking about: the customers, on the other side, could arrive all at once and overwhelm Bakugou, who was alone behind the counter. Too many orders would slow him down, which would annoy the customers, and the Oxymel’s reputation would suffer from it. Midoriya was an expert in the slippery slope argument since his mind tended to overwork itself and spin out of logic’s prism.
Shouto catches Midoriya’s wrist before he could bring his fist down once more, inspecting his scraped knuckles. They’re not bleeding, much to his relief, but they’re raw red.
“You’ll hurt yourself at this rate and I don’t want that. Just enjoy your…” He doesn’t quite know how to formulate it, “…your break.”
Midoriya opens his mouth, probably to protest, but Shouto doesn’t give him enough time to make a sound. While pinning Midoriya’s wrist above his head, Shouto captures his lips. Midoriya lets out a squeak of surprise before his body relaxes, the tension he built by himself dissipating. Midoriya’s free hand ghosts over his chest, as if unsure where to settle.
“T-Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya pants when Shouto pulls back to breathe. “We shouldn’t—”
“Oh but we should,” he replies, edging closer to Midoriya to trap him between the wall and himself. “Don’t you think?”
Midoriya avoids his eyes. Shouto frowns but understands Midoriya’s indecision. They’ve never really talked about going further than kissing before. They gave each other pecks when Shouto came in the morning to take his red espresso and at night, they cuddled in Shouto’s cheap flat, watching movies or zapping on the television, before Shouto walked Midoriya home. Their kisses were still chaste for a six-month-old couple.
“We’re in a back store,” Midoriya retorted.
“A locked one,” Shouto added, cupping Midoriya’s face. “And we can’t unlock it from inside.”
“And that’s why Kacchan could walk on us anytime and—”
“And I’m sure he’d be jealous of what I intend to do to you.”
Midoriya’s gaze is surprisingly unwavering and unabashed as it meets his. “And what do you intend to do to me, Shouto?”
Shouto’s breath hitches and all he can think of is, Two can play a game.
“Let me show you, Izuku.”
Truth to be told, he has no idea what he really wants to do because there are so many thoughts crowding his head, so many ways he can make Midoriya feel good and yet so many mistakes Shouto can mess up. It terrifies him a little but he steadies his breathing, fingers roaming on Midoriya’s left hip. They slither under Midoriya’s shirt, snaking on his chest and his palm resting over his heart.
“Are you comfortable with this, Izuku?” He hears himself whisper.
Midoriya’s eyes glow like fireflies. “Are you?”
“I’m not sure what to do,” he confesses, grateful that the penumbra conceals the heat rising to his cheeks. “I… I’ve looked a bit on internet but I’m still unsure.”
“I’ve searched a little as well and I don’t mind if you… experience anything.”
Shouto swallows, his throat dry and Midoriya’s face open and vulnerable. His face always is so open, so trusting, but Shouto’s heart speeds up anyway. He knows it’s different. Midoriya looks at him like he’s the only person in the world and never has he ever stared at a customer like this.
Shouto wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Tell me to stop if I do something wrong,” he murmured.
His hands untie Midoriya’s apron, letting it pool on the floor. He’s not sure what he wants to try first. He’s not sure he’s capable of anything, really, but he decides to bury his worries back in his mind. Somehow, his mind invokes what he wrote about Midoriya.
• Is ticklish
Shouto tries this first, fingers tickling the crook of his neck. Midoriya instantly squealed, his body wriggling as he fails to escape Shouto’s relentless attack. He’s giggling as he pleads him to stop, melting and crumbling on the floor among the boxes. Shouto slides with him, pinning Midoriya on the floor with his tickling, straddling him. There are tears in Midoriya’s crinkling eyes.
• Sensitive around the neck
Shouto wets his lips before aiming for Midoriya’s exposed neck. There’s so much skin he wants to wolf down. He focuses on a small area, nipping tentatively. According to Midoriya’s back arching, he assumes what he’s doing is pleasant. So his assumption had been right. Shouto smirks as he covers Midoriya’s jugular vein with kisses, Midoriya throwing his head back.
• Can be loud
Shouto’s hands slide down Midoriya’s smaller body, exploring every curve and angle there is and drawing shudders. Their bodies press together, responding to the tiniest graze, their skin afire. The entire back store was engulfed in flames. Shouto’s mouth moves to Midoriya, catching the curl of his tongue. He expects the counterattack before he feels Midoriya’s hands roving over his body.
Shouto almost buckles down even though he’s already on his knees. He’s spent time before inspecting Midoriya’s hands. They’re roughened with scars, callous from careless burns he got working in the Oxymel, yet they are fast and lithe as they wander under Shouto’s shirt. They find their way to his nipples without any difficult, thumbs brushing teasingly against the sensitive skin.
“Fuck, Midoriya,” Shouto groans, biting his tongue.
“I’m back to Midoriya now?”
That sly, adorable bastard, whose fingers keep on toying with his nipples.
“Izuku,” he chokes. “Izuku...”
Shouto’s whispers sound like a prayer. Maybe they are. They definitely are.
He’s feeling something hard poking near his thigh and only imagining what it can be makes his heart lurch. Heat is curling low in his stomach, like a high-strung cord waiting to be snapped.
“Shouto,” Midoriya pleads, hips twitching underneath Shouto. “You—”
He never finishes his sentence.
The door opens, almost ramming into them since they’re standing so close to the entrance. Shouto looks up, expecting Bakugou’s irritated features, but instead finds himself staring at a man clad in black, a cream-like scarf wrapped around his neck. The man’s bloodshot eyes widen before narrowing down to slits.
“I don’t remember hiring you,” he drawls, taking in the apron Shouto was wearing.
“Aizawa-san!” Midoriya shrieked, scrambling to his feet. “This is not what it seems!”
But it’s exactly what it seems.
Aizawa Shouta, owner of Oxymel Café, isn’t much scandalised to stumble upon his newest employee snogging a stranger wearing the Oxymel uniform. In fact, he’s more outraged by the fact that Mineta began skipping his shifts a month ago and that nobody bothered to tell him.
“You were unreachable,” Midoriya points out when he’s berated by Aizawa. “So we decided that Shou— that Todoroki could help a little. He’s quite good actually, isn’t he, Kacchan?”
Midoriya’s voice sounds light to anyone not knowing him but both Shouto and Bakugou recognise the threatening edge in his cheerful voice. So Bakugou gulps, nodding.
“He is. Deku started teaching him the basics of the espresso machine.”
Shouto’s eyebrows recede to his hairline. It was the first sentence he’s heard from Bakugou that doesn’t contain any swears or curses of any kind. It’s remarkable what Midoriya is capable of.
“Todoroki,” Aizawa repeats, his eyes drifting to Shouto who meets them without flinching. “Are you Todoroki Enji’s son by any chance?”
He didn’t expect this question. Wary, Shouto nods. There are many people knowing his father’s name but only a few aware of his detestable attitude. Shouto can only hope Aizawa’s part of the former group.
“I see. Are you majoring in Business and Economics to become the next chairman?”
“He can only wish.”
Shouto didn’t mean to sound so harsh but his words came out in a hiss. He must’ve shown his hostility because Midoriya shoots him a confused glance. Aizawa’s lips quirk up, but Shouto can’t be sure because when he blinks Aizawa stands as emotionless as ever.
“Do you want to work here?”
“I… As a barista?”
Aizawa doesn’t miss a beat as he answers, “The only job here is barista.”
“Yes, I want to, but I can’t work a lot once college starts again.”
“Work during summer and we’ll see after that,” Aizawa shrugs.
Shouto swears he’s dreaming but even as he bites his cheek his surroundings don’t change or fade away. Midoriya nudges him, his smile dazzling. Still, Shouto finds this too easy.
“Do I need to pass a test?”
“I don’t see any need to but if it eases your mind then make me an Irish Coffee.”
Shouto gets behind the counter, checking Midoriya’s coffee field guide. Much to his dismay, the drink isn’t in the guide. He looks around for any hint of how to do it when Midoriya speaks up.
“Sir, that’s not a drink we make here.”
“We don’t? Then I’m lucky I brought my own whiskey,” Aizawa declares as he removes a flask from his pocket. “Get the machine working.”
Midoriya rushes next to Shouto, taking it upon himself to make the drink. Shouto learns that Irish Coffee actually is an alcoholic drink combining coffee, whiskey and brown sugar. Midoriya pours it in a glass mug, topping it with cream. He grasps brown sugar package and hands it to Shouto.
“The final touch.”
Tearing it open, Shouto almost floods the drink with sugar. Giving the mug to Aizawa, he waits for his verdict. One of his hands is seeking Midoriya’s and it’s only when their fingers intertwine that Shouto can breathe again.
“Not bad,” Aizawa mumbles. “Better than Mineta’s.”
Shouto doesn’t precise that it’s Midoriya who made the drink. Instead, he allows himself to smile.
Aizawa leaves after downing his drink, leaving a hefty tip to both of them. As soon as Aizawa’s out of sigh, Midoriya leaps to hug him, Shouto’s knees almost yielding as they take the jump’s brunt. A laugh bubbles out of Shouto’s throat.
“I’ll have you with me during my shift!”
“We don’t know that,” Shouto chuckles. “It’s Aizawa who decides.”
“Actually, it’s Iida who does them. Aizawa is the café’s owner but he lets us a lot of free will,” Midoriya explains. “So I’ll make sure he always schedules you with me. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“It wouldn’t be. It will.”
Shouto kisses him, returning Midoriya’s full embrace.
“Do you two want to go back in the fucking back store?”
Shouto wouldn’t mind, actually, so he ignores Bakugou and keeps kissing Midoriya.