Work Text:
Surely, there is no justice in the world. It’s probably sacrilegious for Izuku to think so, given his profession, but how else can he explain this? This was supposed Izuku and Shouto’s night to get a decent night’s sleep: the first they’d had since becoming parents. There would be no hero work, no hero forums, no anxiety-ridden nights spent hovering over the baby. Just sleep.
Or, at least, that was the plan. But, while Izuku’s brain is prodigiously good with plans, it’s less adept with plans that involve resting. When he wakes up, it’s to a darkened bedroom and the dawning—horrific—realization that he is not supposed to be conscious right now.
Izuku takes a deep breath, steels himself, and glances at the clock.
2 am.
“Nooo,” he moans into his pillow. “You’re supposed to be asleep…”
Izuku tosses an arm to the side, wondering if he can maneuver Shouto’s—warm, cozy, hopefully sleep-inducing—left side closer without waking him up.
But his hand meets nothing but an empty bed.
“Shouto,” Izuku mumbles. “How could you?”
Izuku’s own husband, the father of his child, has betrayed their sleep pact and also Izuku and also possibly the entirety of Japan.
Even so, it never crosses Izuku’s mind to go back to sleep. If Shouto “Nap or Die” Todoroki has broken their sleep pact, then something probably isn’t right. Izuku’s body moves before he can think, his feet hitting the floor and carrying him to his husband.
Izuku finds him in the baby’s room, of course. Shouto is standing over Amane’s crib, a small smile playing across his face, and, suddenly, Izuku’s frustration dissipates. In fact, everything inside Izuku—his racing thoughts, the anxiety twisting in his stomach, the bitter tinge of his exhaustion—slows and settles inside him at the sight of Shouto caring for Amane. He feels at ease.
“Hey,” Izuku whispers, leaning against the door.
“Hey,” Shouto says. He doesn’t look up from the crib. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Well…” Izuku scratches the back of his head, feeling a bit childish now that he has to voice it aloud. “I woke up, but you weren’t there.”
“Oh. Were you worried?”
“A little.”
Shouto does look up at that. He frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to leave, but I woke up to go to the bathroom and then…”
Shouto trails off, but Izuku still understands. They’re both too anxious and too new at this to successfully resist the pull of Amane’s orbit when they walk by her room.
“It’s okay,” Izuku says.
Shouto shakes his head. “No. I should have gone back to bed. I know you were excited about the sleep thing.”
“I think we both knew it was wishful thinking,” Izuku chuckles. He moves to join Shouto, poking his head over the crib. Of course, Amane hasn’t moved an inch since Izuku last saw her. She’s so still when she sleeps: like she’s already trying to take after Shouto. “How’s she doing?”
Shouto rests his chin against the lip of the crib. He stares at Amane as if, just by looking and observing, he could uncover all the secrets of the universe within her.
“She’s fine,” Shouto decides. “Just sleeping. To nobody’s surprise. It’s not like she’s supposed to do much else.”
“Yeah, I figured she hadn’t woken you up, or else I would have woken up too. But…” Izuku glances at Shouto. “You were still worried about her, weren’t you? That’s why you came in here.”
“Yes.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No need,” Shouto says. “I’m not worried anymore.”
Izuku has to muffle his laughter in his arm; it’s a struggle not to outright snort at Shouto’s words, but he’s not about to be the one to wake up Amane.
“What?” Shouto asks.
“Nothing, really,” Izuku giggles. “It’s just, we’ve been together so long, Shouto. Sometimes I forget how strange you are.”
Shouto raises an eyebrow. “I’m strange?”
“You are!”
“I’m not the one with the bone hurting quirk.”
“I haven’t hurt my bones since high school…!” Izuku leans against the crib. He idly toys with one of the All Might figures on Amane’s mobile: one of Shouto’s many concessions to Izuku’s possibly tacky decorating tastes. “So, did you really just…decide not to worry about her? It can’t be that simple, can it? I feel like I’m always worrying about her, and I know you are too. Maybe you should have woken me up after all? I would’ve liked to have been there when you realized this; it might’ve made this easier for me too…”
Shouto pokes Izuku’s ribs. “Your sleep is more important. Besides, it’s not something that you needed to be there for. I can still show you it now.”
Shouto reaches into the crib and brushes a bit of hair off of Amane’s forehead. If it were anyone else, Izuku would worry about the motion waking her up, but Shouto’s touch is as gentle and precise as always.
Izuku leans into the crib, but…”What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“Amane.”
“Well, yeah, but how does that help with your anxiety about her…?”
“Izuku,” Shouto says. “Isn’t it obvious? She looks like you.”
“M-me?” Izuku pats his hair, frantically trying to smooth it down. “H-how would that not make me worry? I’m so plain looking, she shouldn’t look like that…”
Shouto stands up straight and runs a hand through Izuku’s hair, smiling as his fingers get caught in the knots. He moves his fingers to the nape of Izuku’s neck, where he no doubt bumps into scar tissue and moles and acne. If anything, though, Shouto’s smile only widens when he reaches those areas.
“But I want her to look like you,” Shouto says, his voice soft with wonder: as if nothing could be so miraculous as the prospect of his daughter looking like Izuku.
Izuku hands automatically come up to hide his burning face. He mumbles some incoherent noise, too overwhelmed by Shouto’s sincerity to even speak for a moment.
“I-it’s not even possible for her to look like me,” Izuku finally mumbles into his hands. “We adopted her. How would that even work?”
“I don’t know,” Shouto says thoughtfully. “It’s very strange. Then again, I suppose that’s to be expected when you’re involved. You seem determined to do the impossible, Izuku.”
Izuku grins into his hands. “Shouto…”
Shouto carefully removes Izuku’s hands from his face, instead holding both of them in his own. Then, he reaches out and pokes the dimple on Izuku’s cheek.
“There,” Shouto says. “That’s why I’m not worried. She has that.”
“She does?”
“Yes.” With the hand that’s not holding Izuku’s, Shouto points to the side of Amane’s face. If Izuku squints, he can maybe see a divot there that’s similar to his own. “See? That’s your smile, Izuku.”
“It’s not actually my smile,” Izuku says, though his grin only grows as he speaks. If he looks closely, it does look a little bit like his smile…He shakes his head. “We’re not even related.”
“No,” Shouto muses. “But we shouldn’t be surprised. Your smiles are pretty contagious…”
His assessment of Izuku’s smile is only confirmed when Izuku laughs, and another, small smile blooms across Shouto’s face in response.
Izuku tries to hide his face in his hands again, but—Shouto is still holding his hands. Izuku doesn’t pull away, instead settling for burying his face in Shouto’s shoulder.
“Shoutooo,” Izuku says, his cheeks burning. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“Izuku, we’re married. We have a child.”
“We have a child,” Izuku whispers.
“We do.” Shouto presses a kiss to the top of Izuku’s head. “So, you shouldn’t still get so flustered when I compliment your smile.”
“But I do!” Izuku shakes his head against Shouto’s shoulder. “Complimenting my smile when we should be sleeping right now…I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool, Shouto.”
“Well, you are on my left shoulder.”
“Your dad jokes are only proving my point,” Izuku snorts. He stands up straight so that Shouto can see him raising a skeptical eyebrow.
Shouto’s response, of course, is only to raise an eyebrow back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not,” Izuku laughs. “In school, you were always so serious and aloof, but it was all just a logical ruse, wasn’t it…? An elaborate strategy to seem all mysterious when, in actuality, you’re just the kind of guy who thinks our baby smiles like me. I’m not even sure if she’s old enough to smile; she probably just has gas or something.”
“That’s certainly a possibility.”
“The gas or the ruse?”
“Either.” Shouto frowns, as if trying to determine whether the concept of gas is a villain he needs to defeat on his daughter’s behalf. “Mostly the ruse, I think. But how else was I supposed to woo the cute problem child with all the broken bones?”
“Shhh.”
Shouto chuckles. “So easily flustered.”
“You are too! You just don’t show it.”
“But I do.” Shouto points to the edges of his eyes. “See? Smile lines—completely your doing. I’d never smiled this much before I met you. My cheeks were so sore during that first year of school…” Shouto leans his elbows against the crib and rests his cheek upon his hand. “Maybe that’s why she sleeps all the time. You’re exhausting her with your contagious smiles, Izuku.”
Izuku leans his arms against the crib too. He nudges his shoulder against Shouto’s own.
“I’ve always been honored to be a part of your smiles,” Izuku says. “And I hope you’re right—that I’m a part of Amane’s smiles too. But, Shouto, you’ve had a hand in her smiles too. She loves you.”
Now it’s Shouto’s turn to bury his face in his arms. Izuku can feel Shouto’s left side heating up against his.
“Now who’s easily flustered?” Izuku teases.
“I’m exhausted,” Shouto mumbles. “Of course I don’t have full control right now.”
“That’s what you get for breaking our sleep pact.”
Shouto snorts. He lifts his head so that he can study Amane again.
“Love me…?” he murmurs. “She’s only a few weeks old. She can’t actually…”
“Of course she can. Our daughter can do anything she sets her mind to.”
“…And you really think loving me is one of those things?” Shouto asks softly.
Izuku leans his head against Shouto’s shoulder. They’ve had a lot of conversations like this—of course they have, given their respective fathers—but that’s okay. The two of them are patient people. Izuku is content to keep having these discussions over Amane’s crib until they’re both finally able to sleep through the night again.
“How could she not love you, Shouto?” Izuku murmurs. “If she really does take after me, then of course she loves you.”
“Izuku…” Shouto murmurs, his left side flaring with a cozy sort of heat. Izuku can’t help but burrow into Shouto’s left side to soak more of it up.
Shouto snorts in response—or, he probably means to just snort. But, then, a second snort joins the first, and then a third, until Shouto’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. And, maybe Shouto was right about smiles being a contagion, because Izuku feels warm and dizzy right now, like he’s about to come down with something.
He’s not sure he’ll ever stop feeling that way around Shouto. And he certainly won’t stop feeling that way around Amane, especially if she does maybe look like him.
“I’m serious, you know,” Izuku says, presses a stubborn, forceful kiss to Shouto’s shoulder.
“I know. That’s what’s so amazing about it,” Shouto chuckles. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m so glad she takes after you, Izuku. I always felt like any child I had would just be so…sad. But, if she can smile like you, then I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“I’m glad. Maybe I should stop being worried too, then.”
“Hmm…”
“It could happen,” Izuku protests. He beams. “After all, she takes after you too, right? I know we haven’t had her for long, but…” Izuku huffs out a laugh. “It’s weird. She already feels so calm and steady—just like you.”
Shouto smiles. “If you say so, Izuku.”
“She naps all the time just like you too.”
Shouto idly kicks him, not bothering to chase him when Izuku darts out of the way. “Not for long. She’s due to cry in a few hours. You know, she cries about as often as you do. Between that and the smile…Are you sure you two aren’t biologically related?”
“Shouto!” Izuku sputters. “I only just got you to stop accusing me of being an illegitimate love child—don’t tell me you’re going to start accusing me of having one.”
“Probably not,” Shouto yawns. He leans over to press a kiss to Izuku’s forehead. “Let’s get to bed. I seem to remember that we made a sleep pact. As men of honor, we should sleep.”
“You’re the one who broke the pact in the first place,” Izuku says, his words barely coherent as he nearly cracks his jaw with a yawn of his own. He’d forgotten that those are contagious too.
Izuku follows Shouto back to bed. The sheets have long since gone cold, but it takes Shouto a matter of moments to warm them with his quirk and pull the two of them under the covers.
“Warm enough?” Shouto asks, pulling Izuku close.
“Perfect,” Izuku sighs. He snuggles against Shouto’s chest. “Thank you, Shouto.”
“Thank you, Izuku.”
Izuku doesn’t have to ask what Shouto is thanking him for. He knows that, in Shouto’s mind, the statement is all-encompassing: full of a thousand little gestures and a thousand offhand comments. It’s almost strange to be on the receiving end of so enormous a gratitude when Izuku feels like he should be the grateful one. Shouto is the reason that Izuku has a family onto which to pass on his supposedly contagious smiles.
Izuku yawns again. He rubs his hands against Shouto’s back, chuckling when Shouto immediately relaxes against him, already more than half-asleep. It’s not long before Shouto’s breath evens out into something slower and more restful than Izuku has heard in some time.
Izuku smiles, presses a kiss to Shouto’s chest, and then drifts off to sleep himself.