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Whether or not Izuku loves Toshi—his dog, that is—is not a question, but that love does not extend nearly far enough to try and bring him along to Christmas at his mother's house, which is precisely why the flier that he hangs in his apartment complex's common area, seeking someone to watch his dog, is bright pink and attention-grabbing.
Toshi is a wonderful dog. He's friendly, obedient (to a point), and loyal. He's smart, too; Izuku has taught him several tricks, and he walks well on a leash, negating how easily excitable he is. He's a good dog, really, but he's a handful, which is why Izuku is so surprised when he gets a text about it the next day.
The one who had offered to watch his dog is Todoroki, and he comes across well enough over text. Izuku wouldn't trust just anybody to watch his dog, but he's getting desperate what with his impending trip, and since no other texts come, Todoroki will have to do.
On the Saturday morning that Izuku is due to leave, he gets woken at the ripe hour of 6:53 by a large, excited dog stepping directly on his chest, and then darting off of his bed and down the hallway.
There's a resounding crash, a skitter of paws, and then a yelp, and Izuku reluctantly heaves himself out of bed, groggy and blinking at the almost offensive brightness of the morning light shining through his window. Slatted blinds cast shards of light onto carpet. Izuku pulls the blinds closed, and then shakes his head.
Blinds drawn and slippers on, Izuku plods down the hallway to see an only mildly guilty-looking Toshi waiting at the door, leash in his mouth and shattered mug mere feet away.
"You're a bad dog!" he coos, and because Toshi is a dog and does not understand, he stands expectantly and wags his tail in response, gaze flittering between Izuku and the door. He cocks his head to the right, and the clasp of the leash in his mouth clanks as it hits tile.
"No walk," says Midoriya, turning on his heel. And then, because he feels guilty, "After I get dressed, okay?"
Behind him, Toshi gives an indignant bark, and then another, and as Izuku shuts the bathroom door, paws skitter once more against the hardwood of the hallway.
He drags out his morning getting-ready activities as long as possible, but no more than three minutes in, Toshi begins whining outside of the bathroom door, and then scratching and barking, and since Izuku doesn't particularly care to irritate all of the building's inhabitants at such an early hour, he gives in to Toshi's request for a walk before he's had a chance to change out of his sweatpants.
Izuku is rather surprised when he steps outside, because even though he'd spared glances out the window, he hadn't quite realized how intensely the snow was coming down, heavy and sticking to the sidewalks and streets. (In his defense, his vision had been blurry after his early wake up call, so he isn't really at fault here.)
Toshi is absolutely delighted, tugging hard on the leash and practically dragging Izuku through the courtyard and jumping up to try and intercept the falling snow. He's not a bad dog, really, but he's a lot , and he's easily two-thirds of Izuku's weight. While Izuku isn't weak by any means, this dog can toss him around like a rag doll.
And, well, he's strong-willed and drags Izuku directly out the gate the moment that he sees something, and Izuku has no choice but to run behind him until Toshi skitters to a halt, jumping up on some innocent bystander with large, snowy paws.
"I'm—I'm so sorry!" Izuku rushes, tugging back on the leash. "Toshi, that's not nice!"
Toshi is decidedly not guilty; he then places his snowy paws on Izuku's thighs, only to be pushed back down once more in a fit of frustration.
The stranger chuckles and then shakes his head, taking a step back. "...Toshi?" he asks, cocking his head. "Do you live in that building?"
Izuku follows the stranger's pointer finger to just behind them, to his building, and then nods.
"Todoroki Shouto," he says, tucking his hand back into the pocket of his peacoat. "You're Midoriya?"
If Midoriya's face flushes an embarrassingly bright shade of red, (it does), neither of them mention it. Bottom lip between his teeth, he nods, and then under his breath, he requests, "heel, Toshi."
Todoroki seems more amused than anything, waving off any apology on Izuku's part in favor of bending down to Toshi's level with a half-smile.
"I'm really sorry, again," Izuku rushes, tugging his hat back over his curls and reddened ears. "He's usually a good dog; he won't give you any trouble while you're watching him—Thank you again, by the way, for offering."
And then, with an embarrassed flush still high on his cheeks, Izuku and Todoroki part ways, excited (and slightly ashamed) dog still at Izuku's heels.
It's a good thing that Izuku had brought Toshi out as early as he did, because the snow is coming down hard , and while a White Christmas may be beautiful on a postcard, Izuku would rather die than deal with one personally, (Or, one of this caliber).
For one, his apartment building is so old that it's freezing due to lack of insulation, and his dog is so, so bored from being cooped up in the small apartment that he's at least ten times more annoying than usual. He's restless, darting back and forth from his couch to his bed to Izuku's, and then back again.
All of this together makes getting ready for his trip nearly impossible; when Izuku has managed to lay out all of his clothes on his bed, Toshi takes the liberty of tramping across all of them with wet paws, and then dashing into the bathroom when Izuku has the audacity to scold him. He takes off, too, with Izuku's hairbrush, and when Izuku retrieves a bone to distract him so that he can pack, Toshi gets so excited that he practically knocks Izuku over.
Izuku is about good and ready to scrap the day, to just call it a day, pass out in his bed, and try again tomorrow, when his phone starts chiming just across the room, his mother’s ringtone.
“Stay,” he commands Toshi even though they both know he won’t listen, and retrieves his phone, Inko’s smiling face lit up bright on the screen.
She has this obsessive tendency to video call Izuku when a plain old call, when any old phone call would suffice, and as he swipes to answer her call, she lights up in a bright grin.
“Hi, mom!” he greets, tired but warming all the same. In the background of his apartment, Toshi rustles with his crinkly toys, pauses, and then takes off down the hallway, skittering to a halt when he reaches the end.
“I’m so glad you’re safe!” Inko coos. “I was worried, what with the snowstorm; on the news, it looked awful .” A mirror image of Izuku, she worries her bottom lip between her front teeth.
The apartment creaks around Midoriya. His upstairs neighbor paces the length of their living room, and Toshi is suspiciously silent. Outside, the storm rages, and when Izuku spares a glance, he can only wince. After all, he hasn’t been out in several hours, and the state of the street below can only be described as treacherous.
There are an impressive zero people outside, and even the trees whip furiously in the wind. It’s all white, white, white, covered in snow, and any of the businesses have closed their doors.
“Looks terrible,” he agrees, shaking his head.
Inko nods, presses her pointer finger to her cheek, and then frowns. “I was thinking—it may not be the best idea for you to come down here, what with all that snow. And the wind . I would hate for anything to happen to you on your way.” Worry lines crease her forehead, and when she tilts her head to the side, Izuku musters a sympathetic frown.
“Is that your way of telling me not to come?” he confirms with a frown of his own. Of course, his safety is important, but if he doesn’t go to his mother’s for her Christmas dinner, they’re both going to be alone, not to mention, Izuku loves her dinner.
“I can’t stop you, but I definitely can’t advise it,” she confirms with a sigh. “But, Izuku, you need to make sure that you stay safe; I won’t have you risking anything to come see me.”
And, if Izuku is disappointed, then he doesn’t say so—half because he can’t bear the thought of making Inko feel guilty, and half because Toshi’s incessant barking both demands his attention and makes it wildly difficult to make out anything that Izuku is saying.
Mere seconds after Izuku has set his phone down, he calls “To—oshi!” and bends to his dog’s level, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing to have the wind knocked out of him as the large dog barrels down the hallway.
For all of the trouble that Toshi has caused him, for the broken mugs and the muddy clothes and the early-morning wake up call, Izuku really, really does love him. There are worse ways to spend Christmas weekend, anyway.
—
Maybe Izuku has prayed enough to the Gods, or maybe the evening has mellowed Toshi out, but Izuku’s dog calms down enough after dinner to allow Izuku to sit on the couch in his pajamas and catch up on television. Granted, he only gets through half of a twenty minute rerun before Toshi is listless, carrying one of his numerous bones in his mouth and pacing the length of the small living room.
Izuku cocks his head, asks, “Who’s a good boy?” and reaches a hand out, to which the dog eagerly trots over, in search of affection or food, or even both.
Scooching right to accomodate for the dog, Izuku pats the couch cushion beside him and offers a warm grin when Toshi obliges, head rested on Izuku’s thigh and tongue lolled out to the side. It’s an absolutely miserable night outside, only further proven by the emergency broadcast that cuts into his television.
Izuku groans, and Toshi simply perks up slightly in interest, only to drop his head a moment later.
“Winter weather advisory warning in effect!” The news reporter says, voice just slightly too singsongy. “Officials are advising that—” And then, a click, and the picture ceases.
It’s almost a domino effect in its entirety: the television stops, and then the light above flickers to a stop. Even the hallway lights shut off, and Izuku groans. He actually, truly groans out loud, so much so that Toshi looks up once more and tilts his head in questioning.
“Power outage,” Izuku informs him, as if he cares—or understands, for that matter, which he most certainly does not.
He has candles in… His kitchen, maybe? He’s only been in this apartment for six months, so it shouldn’t be quite that difficult to remember. Izuku is almost certain that they’re in his kitchen. And, if they’re not there after all, his phone’s flashlight will suffice.
He plods across the living room (in All Might slippers, nonetheless), to the kitchen to rifle through its drawers in search of candles. Being that it is December, the sun disappears practically the moment it has reached its peak, so what fleeting daylight may still be available is certain to be gone within the next fifteen minutes.
“Candles….” mutters Izuku, shaking his head when he comes across a drawer full of tupperware, and then one full of… Coupons? He doesn’t even use coupons.
Izuku is almost ready to give up when he finds a measly two candles and a book of matches; the floor creaks behind him, and he holds them up victoriously, so that Toshi can see.
“Candles!” he proclaims, and then, turns around to face… “ Todoroki! ”
“You’re in your apartment!”
“ You’re in my apartment!” Izuku counters, and then trains his gaze downwards to his All Might slippers and old pajama pants. He’d really taken this snow day thing seriously; he’s even wearing a face mask. Rightfully so, Todoroki mirrors his own, shocked expression.
“I—Was going to check on your dog, what with the power outage,” Todoroki tells him, taking a backwards step. “But, you’re still here, so I… Apologize.”
Face flushed, Izuku crinkles his brows and cocks his head. Meekly, he manages, “My own mistake. My plans got cancelled; I wasn’t planning on staying here.”
If Todoroki flushes, even slightly—and he does, and Izuku’s heart skips half a beat—neither of them mention it. Between beats of silence, Izuku awkwardly rubs at his neck. His feet are all too suddenly uncomfortably warm in his All Might slippers, and he’d place good money on the fact that the tips of his ears are burning red.
There’s silence, and then there’s more silence, and a sudden “Oof—!” as Toshi barrels across the living room and directly into Todoroki’s gut.
“I’m so sorry!” Izuku blurts, as Todoroki wheezes, “Well-behaved, huh?” and then takes a backwards step from Toshi, who obviously wags his tail, gaze darting back and forth from his curly-haired owner to his curly-haired owner’s (cute, apparently?) neighbor, tongue lolling out the right side of his mouth.
“Sometimes,” he mumbles. “Good dog, sometimes. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s just friendly,” Todoroki excuses, a flippant flick of his wrist. “You don’t mean to be trouble, do you?” he inquires of Toshi, head cocked as Izuku watches on, mouth slightly agape; he speaks to Toshi so matter-of-factly, as if this large, over-excitable dog is just another human being in this apartment, a stark contrast to the coos and “aww”s that he typically receives.
What exactly Izuku should make of this, he isn’t certain, but it’s an interesting characteristic, and Toshi seems to like him well enough—he’s tackled Todoroki not once, now, but twice, after all.
And, just then, it dawns on Izuku that he doesn’t need Todoroki to come back and check on Toshi now that he’s going to stay the weekend, but some needy, impulsive part of him calls, don’t let him go , and Izuku is speaking before he even has a chance to think.
“Do you—want a drink?” he says, and then blinks. “Uh. I mean, it’s the least I can do, considering Toshi. I had water on the stove before the power went out, and I have—”
Izuku pauses to scan Todoroki’s facial expression—confused, probably, but then he nods and steps forward, and Izuku grins.
Candlelight flickers, and Izuku leans over it as he grabs the handle of the purple kettle, throwing a backwards glance to Todoroki.
“Mugs,” he says. “They’re in that little cabinet behind you, if you don’t mind.”
And, well, from there, Izuku learns , learns about Todoroki. He learns that he takes his tea with no sugar and just a splash of milk. He learns that he hadn’t had any dogs—or pets, for that matter—while he was growing up, but that he’s always been a dog person. Izuku learns that candlelight frames his white hair in such a way that it gives him the look of having a halo, and Izuku learns that he is absolutely, unconditionally, no match for an attractive, dog-loving, funny downstairs neighbor.
He tells, also. He tells about Toshi, and how he’d never planned on getting a dog, but one day, he’d shown up in Izuku’s mom’s back yard, and since she wasn’t going to keep a dog, the responsibility was his. He tells Todoroki about the vet’s guess that Toshi would be 40 pounds, and that now he’s closing in on 80, still with some growing to do. He tells about why he moved to Tokyo (college, and then because it became home), and he laughs , laughs like he’s never laughed before.
They go through the tea fast, and then two more mugs, and then each half of a mug of cold tea, and by the time they’re halfway through those mugs, the lights flicker and groan back to life.
Snow ravages outside, but the lights are on and Izuku’s candle has melted into a wax pile on its plate, a sad, sad reminder of what it used to be.
He can’t place a finger on exactly when he started to feel so at ease around Todoroki, and he can’t quite place a finger on when the disappointment about missing out on seeing his mother dissipated into excitement to be around Todoroki, but he suspects that the two, if not simultaneous, were close.
“I’m glad you came!” he exclaims when Todoroki stands from the table, and then claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. Curious, Toshi trots over to investigate, and nudges Izuku’s leg ever so slightly, so that he stumbles just a pace closer to Todoroki, eyes wide and hand still clamped tight around his mouth.
How forward.
But then, Todoroki laughs—really, he exhales through his nose, but Izuku takes it as a laugh—and returns the sentiment with a crinkly-eyed half smile of his own.
“Turns out this snowstorm wasn’t quite so bad, huh?” Todoroki asks as he crouches down to Toshi’s level, hand rested on the dog’s neck so that he can keep his balance. Then, slow, he flickers his gaze up to Izuku.
“We should—do this again,” he mumbles, almost… Sheepish? Izuku can’t imagine he’s sheepish, not because of Izuku . And then, after a quick pause, Todoroki tacks on, “you know. For Toshi.”
“Huh. Right,” Izuku agrees, though he replaces the nerve-induced grimace for a grin instead, and then nods. “For Toshi, and Toshi only.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Todoroki says with a nod, and then, “I’ll see you around, Midoriya.”
Izuku hopes so, with all of his heart.