Work Text:
Iida enters the chaos of Valentine's Day prepared.
He's got a bag to store whatever chocolate he might receive, separate from the one where he keeps his school supplies, so that neither gets excessively squished. He's also dedicated a page in his planner to writing down the names of the girls who gift him chocolate, to make sure he remembers to reciprocate on White Day.
It's not that he's expecting to become a recipient of romantic affections, but he's the class president and as such girls may feel obligated to give him chocolate. And indeed, during the first few hours of the day he gets approached by most of the girls from his class. He notes their names (Asui insists he write her down as Tsuyu-chan, so he adds that in parentheses) and assures them he appreciates the gifts as well as their contributions to the class.
Things continue in that vein until the lunch break, with two notable exceptions to the pattern. The first one is Uraraka, who pushes a bag of homemade cookies into his hands and proclaims them to be friend chocolate (not obligation!). The second and more surprising one is a girl from the Support Department.
She approaches him in front of the cafeteria and presents him with a box of chocolates tied up with a red ribbon. Iida didn't expect his status to have any significant influence beyond his class, much less the Hero Department, so he's neglected to memorize the names of all the students in the school — an oversight he's now regretting.
He whips out his notebook. "May I ask for your name and class?"
"Um, I'm Asano Mamiko from 1-H," she says, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger.
"Asano-kun." Iida nods, his pen flying over the paper and then shooting up into the air as he starts to gesticulate. "Thank you very much, both for the chocolate and for dedicating your time and efforts to the Support Department. As aspiring heroes, we benefit greatly from your work."
"Oh, um." She tears her eyes away from the motions of his hand to look up at him again. "You're welcome?"
"Rest assured that I will return your kind gesture in a month. Now I will let you enjoy your lunch and gather the strength for your afternoon classes. Thank you again," Iida says, and heads into the cafeteria.
Midoriya is already at their table when Iida makes his way there with his lunch. He looks up from his food and smiles at Iida, cheeks puffed up like a small rodent. Iida smiles back and sits down on the bench opposite him.
They're soon joined by Todoroki, who slides onto the seat to Iida's right. So close, in fact, that their elbows bump against each other, for which Todoroki apologizes immediately. Iida assures him that no harm has been done and grips his fork a little tighter.
It's become a common occurrence lately — not necessarily the collision of limbs, but the proximity that encourages it — but Iida's still not used to it. Rather, the opposite seems to be true. Each time it's a little more difficult to will his heart rate down to its usual level, and his blood rushes to his face in an ever-darker blush.
But just because he's developed feelings for Todoroki that are no longer strictly platonic, that doesn't mean Todoroki must reciprocate. There are a hundred perfectly innocent reasons to sit close to each other, and Iida values their friendship too highly to dishonor it by reading too much into friendly gestures.
So he steels himself, resolutely puts another bite of food in his mouth, and tries not to contemplate the fact that Todoroki's left side gives off enough heat to make that entire half of Iida's body feel warm.
"Did you guys get any chocolate?" Midoriya asks between bites of his lunch. He doesn't wait for them to respond before he continues, in an awed tone, "I got some."
"Yes, I got a few gifts today," Iida replies.
Todoroki just gives a noncommittal hum and leans to the side to reach into his bag. "Actually," he says, clearing his throat, "this is for you." He places a box on the table between them, the clear cover revealing expensive-looking chocolates lined up neatly in three rows.
Iida stares at it for a moment, allowing his heart one, two, three excited thumps before he wrestles it under control. Determined not to let his crush color their interactions, he says brightly, "Thank you, Todoroki-kun! I appreciate it a great deal. Unfortunately I was not aware that we're exchanging friend chocolate today, so I don't have a gift for you."
Midoriya, who stopped chewing as soon as chocolate made an appearance, swallows hurriedly to say, "I didn't know either."
He's a truly good friend, showing solidarity even when Iida made a social blunder. Iida flashes him a quick smile to show that he appreciates the support.
"If you don't mind waiting," he continues to Todoroki, "I will of course reciprocate in a month."
Todoroki looks at him for a long moment. Finally he says, "That's okay."
Iida nods, relieved that there's no hard feelings. Then Todoroki continues, "But, uh. It's not friend chocolate," and Iida's heart skips at least two beats before starting up again with renewed vigor.
In the ensuing silence Midoriya shovels the rest of his food into his mouth and mumbles something about seeing Uraraka. Normally Iida would remind him not to talk with his mouth full, but now he can only watch as Midoriya dashes away from their table, leaving him alone with Todoroki.
"Oh," Iida says once he's able to form words again. He adjusts his glasses. "Should I take it as a declaration of romantic intent, then?"
"Yeah," Todoroki replies with a small nod.
Iida's heart is racing at full speed now, a Recipro Burst of emotion barely contained in his chest. It leaves him speechless again for long enough that Todoroki apparently takes it the wrong way.
"You don't need to give me anything for White Day, though," he says. "Or take this, I guess. But the filling is orange, so you might like it."
A thoughtful and perfect gift, and Iida inadvertently made him think it's not wanted. "No, I accept!" he blurts quickly to fix it, his hand shooting out to land on the box as if there's a danger of it being taken away.
Todoroki blinks up at him. "You do?"
"Yes." He sits a little straighter. "I gratefully accept your gift, Todoroki-kun, as well as your feelings. They are, in fact, very much reciprocated. I will treasure these chocolates as a token of your affection."
"I think the idea is to just eat them," Todoroki says, smiling now, a small upturn of his lips that nevertheless serves to make Iida feel warm even better than Todoroki's quirk.
Iida nods. "Then I will plan my caloric intake accordingly."
Todoroki stares at him for a moment longer before looking down at the table. Iida carefully puts the chocolate box into his bag and briefly considers reaching for his notebook, but it's extremely unlikely that he'll forget about this particular gift, so it feels safe to forgo the note. Then he follows Todoroki's lead, unsure about the next step.
Before he can decide on a course of action, his attention is caught by some shuffling noises coming from behind them.
"That's it?" Midoriya whispers, not nearly quiet enough not to reach Iida. "Are they done already?"
"I don't know," Uraraka replies, slightly more hushed but still audible. "Are they holding hands? I can't see from here."
Iida clears his throat, which makes his friends shush each other and fall into guilty silence, even though he didn't mean it as a reprimand. On the contrary, he's very grateful for the idea.
"Todoroki-kun, would you like to hold hands with me?" There's barely enough space between the two of them for his hand, but Iida places it on the seat, palm up and open.
"Sure," Todoroki replies, ducking his head. He puts his hand in Iida's, twining their fingers loosely. "If you're not worried about the… Hand Crusher thing…"
"I'm not," Iida says, tightening his hold on Todoroki's hand. It's very warm, which is both a nice feeling and a convenient excuse in case Iida's hand gets overly sweaty.
Midoriya and Uraraka join them at the table, grinning and obviously teeming with questions. Iida has no doubt he'll get accosted by them later, but thankfully he doesn't have to put the way he's feeling into words just yet.
He grabs his fork with his left hand, willing his slightly stiff fingers to cooperate. They do so easily enough and he can bring the next bite of his lunch to his mouth with no problem, if a bit more slowly than normal.
But apparently he's not smooth enough to escape Todoroki's concern. "Oh, you need your hand back," he says, starting to pull back from the hold.
Iida squeezes his hand. "No, this is fine! Training my left side to be as coordinated as my right can only be beneficial in my work as a hero and in life."
"Right." Todoroki looks like he doesn't quite buy the excuse, but he seems amused and maybe pleased. "Okay then." He presses his palm back to Iida's, so it's an unmitigated win.
The only flaw in the most successful lunch break of Iida's life comes in the person of Mineta, who starts a commotion when he realizes he's the only one in their class who didn't get any chocolate. But as soon as Iida makes a twitch in his direction, Todoroki tightens his grip to hold him in place.
"They'll be fine," he says, inclining his head. Indeed, there's Jirou storming over to Mineta's corner, so at the very least the wailing should stop soon.
"Alright," Iida says, offering a smile to Todoroki.
It's very hard to worry about shirking his responsibilities when Todoroki's smiling back at him, his hand warm and tangled with Iida's. Just this once, Iida can let other people handle the trouble.