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No one exactly knows when it becomes a regular occurence until it’s an integral part of dorm life. Half the time, calm cool and collected Todoroki can be seen napping anywhere and everywhere. Perhaps it’s the downward pull of his shoulders at the end of the day that drive some to lower their voices to soft cadences when they find him asleep in the common room. Or perhaps it’s the often repeated phrase of, “I’m sleepy,” and the fact that no one has ever seen Todoroki look so peaceful as he does when he sleeps.
Sometimes, he falls asleep in his classmates’ rooms. It’s never on purpose… usually—it’s usually never on purpose. But there are days when their friend has bags under his eyes that could rival Aizawa’s, and they can’t help but push him towards the nearest place for a nap.
If it’s purely accidental, they let him do it anyways, never questioning it.
1. Tokoyami
Fumikage isn’t exactly sure how the hell this happened.
There was a knock on his door, and he’d made the first mistake of opening it and coming face to face with a grinning Kirishima. Kirishima had shoved his way in, practically dragging a cross Bakugou along with him. The former had babbled about how “Bakugou doesn’t believe that you have a freaking sword in here!” and that “I told you, bro, I freakin’ told you!”
Bakugou had scoffed, commented about how it was “probably a fucking fake,” which prompted Fumikage to tell him it was real… which was his second mistake.
His third mistake was not shutting the door when Kaminari had craned his head in with Ashido in tow… or when Iida stomped in to tell them that they were being too rowdy, a perplexed Midoriya and tired-looking Todoroki behind him.
And now, there were about seven too many people in his room.
“Is this like from that one game?” Ashido asks, poking and prodding at the damn sword that got Fumikage into this mess in the first place.
Fumikage sits shoved up against the wall on his bed, knees pulled to his chest in resignation. Kirishima is wearing one of his cloaks that usually hang above his bed and sitting on the rug alongside Midoriya, who looks at the matching shield with curiosity. Bakugou is eyeing the skull on Fumikage’s dresser, and he’d make a comment about it matching the King of Explosion’s aesthetic if he truly didn’t care about his own personal safety. Iida watches on from the foot of Fumikage’s bed.
“What game?” Kaminari replies, kicking his legs up and rolling onto his back on the floor, because apparently Fumikage’s room is also now where everyone is hanging out for the evening.
Ashido taps her chin in consideration. “Y’know… like that uh—what’s that game with the guy who has pointy ears?”
“ Oh you mean the Zelda games?”
Ashido snaps her fingers. “Yeah yeah! Is this from that?” this is actually directed at Fumikage, and he can tell because everyone—apart from Todoroki, who has taken up residence in Fumikage’s favorite chair shoved in the corner and appears to be daydreaming—looks at him expectantly.
“Uh,” he says, “no, actually. I picked it up at a flea market. There was just something about it that spoke to me—”
“Ahhhh, your Lord of Darkness thing!” Kaminari points out.
Fumikage blanches, “No! L-look—”
“It is quite becoming of you,” Iida points out.
“Yeah it kinda fits with your whole vibe you got goin’ on,” Kirishima adds. “Sorta like Bakugou. In his room he has—”
“Shut up Shitty Hair!”
“Whoa! Don’t blow up the skull, dude!”
“Not the skull!” Kaminari laments. “It’s like from Hamlet , it’s super cool!”
Bakugou lobs the skull towards Kaminari and it veers off course and soars towards Todoroki’s head.
“Bakugou- kun ,” Iida scolds just as Midoriya catches the skull before it can hit anything. “That is Tokoyami-kun’s skull, you could’ve broken it!”
“Whatever. I’m leaving.”
“Noooo Bakugou it was just getting fun!” Kirishima pouts.
“How is this fun? Look, this sucks so much that Half and Half fell asleep.”
Everyone freezes, looking to the gothic desk chair to see that yes, Bakugou is correct. Todoroki lists to one side, his elbow propped haphazardly on one of the arms, his cheek smushing into his palm. His chest rises and falls slowly, and the mood in the room changes.
Midoriya is the first to speak, his voice a whisper, “I think he was on his way to his room before all of this to take a nap.”
Iida matches his volume. “He did look tired after dinner.”
“Should I poke him?” Ashido asks, one hand slowly inching towards the sword resting against the wall.
“ No ,” Fumikage grits. Kaminari brings a finger up to his lips and shushes him.
Bakugou mutters something intelligible under his breath and throws open the door. Todoroki jostles awake just as Bakugou is stomping out of the room, the a faint dusting of pink spreading across the former’s cheeks.
“Bakugou, c’mon! You woke him up!” Kirishima calls, shulking out of the cloak and chasing after the ornery blond.
Todoroki shoots an apologetic look at Fumikage and everyone else seems to get the picture that they’ve overstayed their welcome.
As the last of his classmates trickle out, Todoroki hovers at the door frame, an apology clearly trying to work its way out of him.
“It’s fine,” Fumikage says. “I’ve fallen asleep in that chair more times than I’d like to admit.”
This seems to subdue Todoroki because he ducks his head once, and closes the door.
Tokoyami begins to keep a blanket draped over the back of his desk chair, just in case his classmates decide to barge into his room with a tired Todoroki in tow again.
2. Yaoyorozu.
Research is what Momo likes to think she excels at. That and academics… and being a marvelous host. Hero-ing is something she’s working on—she’s getting better, she is , thanks to Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki and her incredible classmates—but it’s always been a nice confidence boost to work on something she knows she’ll be amazing at.
And if she got to work on a presentation on the history of hero agencies with the hero in training she looked up to the most? Even better.
Momo sits at her desk, humming happily as she affixes a graph of the economic benefits of hero agencies to a tri-fold piece of cardboard. On her bed sits Todoroki, clipping information to be added to their board from pieces of paper, his laptop next to him, their research notes open in a tab.
“I’m glad we had time today to put this together,” she comments. Todoroki hums from her oversized bed. “We actually learned a lot! Who knew that there were so many revisions to policies?” There was another noncommittal hum, quieter, but still there.
It’s a sunny day outside, and she’s pretty sure she can hear some distant explosions and joyful shouting: Bakugou and Kirishima, probably. As much as she loves doing this… a nice cup of tea underneath the shade of her favorite tree in the courtyard is sounding more and more appealing.
Time passes by, and the shouting and the BOOM BOOM BOOM outside is joined by more raucous laughter. Momo does hope that that tree is still there when she goes outside. She sighs, pushing herself up from her desk, her back and legs popping from sitting for so long.
“I think—I think we’re done! What do you think, Todoroki-kun?”
Silence.
“Todoroki-kun?”
Momo blinks and looks to her bed where—ah. Todoroki’s curled up at the foot of it, his face lax and smushed into her plush comforter where she can also see the tip of a pencil poking out.
BOOM BOOM .
Momo sighs, “You’re a heavy sleeper, aren’t you?” Todoroki’s lack of response is answer enough.
She picks her way around the cramped walking space of her room as quietly as she can, gently prodding the pencil from under Todoroki’s cheek where it’s started to leave an indent. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, Todoroki sleeping in odd places, but he’s never done it in her room before.
He must be really tired , Momo ponders, tea of the day in one hand and a book tucked neatly under her arm, Maybe I should pop by later and give him some chamomile… yeah, I’ll do that .
She chances one more glance at her sleeping classmate as she turns the handle before stepping into the hall, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.
3. Kirishima
Eijirou’s shirt is in tatters, and there’s no one to blame but himself. He cradles the shreds of it in his arms. Small strands keep trying to fall to the floor, and he keeps having to readjust his grip.
“Maaaan, this was my favorite shirt!” he whines to Bakugou, the grumpy blonde scowling at a random corner of the elevator they’re on.
“It’s your own fucking fault, idiot.”
Eijirou frowns, “Okay, yeah , but Kaminari scared me, dude!”
“So your quirk activated on its own, right? That’s dumb.”
In Eijirou’s defense, him and Bakugou were watching a scary movie—something about stupid teens and haunted houses in the middle of the night—when Kaminari had been walking by and stubbed his foot on the couch. He had yelled, Eijirou had screamed… and his shirt had been destroyed.
“Don’t rub salt in the wound, Bakubro,” Eijirou sniffs.
Bakugou sputters. “Baku—what kind of a fucking nickname is that?!”
Eijirou bites back a bark of laughter. Bakugou is easy to rile up, Eijirou had discovered that early on into their friendship. Even mentioning the word friend in relation to him and Bakugou sent the latter seething and exploding. It used to be scary, but now Eijirou just thinks it’s funny—maybe even kinda cute, if he allows himself to dwell on it for a while.
“A good one, dude,” he replies innocently.
“It sucks,” Bakugou bites back.
Eijirou grins and the elevator door opens. “Whatever ya say, Bakubro—” Eijirou ducks out of the elevator when his explodey friend takes a swing at him, the tips of his gelled hair just barely missing the tiny explosions that have erupted in Bakugou’s palms. Yep, this is definitely his new favorite hobby.
“Shut up,” Bakugou grumbles and falls back into step with Eijirou.
“How about Explodo-Kills?” he tries.
“Shittyshima, shut up .”
They stop in front of Eijirou’s door and he paws at his pocket, patting around for his key. “Oh yeah, I forgot the King of part.”
“Hurry the fuck up.” Bakugou’s foot taps relentlessly against the ground, the harsh ticking echoing in the deserted hall.
Eijirou fumbles his key out and slides it into the knob, “Y’know, ya didn’t have to come with me.”
Bakugou stops tapping his foot. “You would have fucking jumped at any shadow that moves and accidentally maimed Raccoon Eyes or something,” he says dismissively.
Eijirou snickers and decides it’s best for his health that he doesn’t comment, swinging open the door. “Right! I’ll just be a second!” He tosses the tatters of fabric that used to be a shirt off to the side and begins rifling through his drawers.
“ What the fuck ,” he hears Bakugou whisper.
Eijirou stops, retort already on his tongue when he sees the human-sized lump wrapped in a blanket at his desk. “Oh yeah… forgot to tell you that Todoroki might be in here.” He digs through his drawers again, quiet as he can be when he finally finds a suitable shirt—it’s red and says GET GAINZ in English.
“What the fuck is he—”
“Shhh!”
He thinks he hears Bakugou growl but when he speaks again his voice is quieter, albeit still angry and volatile sounding. “What the fuck is he doing?”
Eijirou tugs on his shirt and turns to face Bakugou with an arched brow. “Sleeping?” he replies because it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“ Why ?” Bakugou seethes.
“Dude,” Eijirou says. “He like, naps everywhere . It’s a thing. Have you not been paying attention?”
Bakugou’s lip pulls down into a marvelous scowl. “But why here ?”
Something clicks in Eijirou’s head and, before he can quite stop himself, there’s a wicked grin spreading on his face. “Ohoho, jealous?”
Bakugou opens his mouth to no doubt yell and Eijirou clamps his hand over it. Bakugou squirms and Eijirou prods him gently into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Bakugou pushes his hand away and Eijirou can see a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.
“Why the fuck would I be jealous?” he grunts.
Eijirou keeps grinning. Too, too easy to rile up . “Oh, I dunno, Katsuki—”
“DIE!”
Eijirou skirts to the side to dodge a half-hearted explosion. “Kidding, kidding,” he says. “Nah, but Todoroki came in to ask where I got my weights and I noticed he kept yawning so I told him that he could nap for a few minutes if he wanted to.”
Bakugou has a look of bewilderment on his face but looks less murdery.
“I’ve seen him asleep in weird places before,” Eijirou explains with a shrug. “I don’t think the guy gets enough sleep, ya know?”
Bakugou narrows his eyes at him before brushing past him to the elevators. Eijirou catches up to him and the two lapse into comfortable silence. As they step into the elevator, Bakugou mumbles, “Katsuki, huh?”
Eijirou blinks, caught off guard briefly before flashing a toothy grin. “Better than Bakubro?”
“I’m literally going to fucking kill you.”
4. Uraraka
Girl’s Night, sometimes known as Spa Night, sometimes known as Junk Food Night, sometimes known as No Sleep Night, but mostly known as Girl’s Night, has been a staple since the first weekend they all moved into the dorms. They all take turns hosting in their rooms, and often times they’ll invite Kendo and some of the girls from 1-B to join them.
Tonight, Ochako has the honor of organizing what is probably a Spa Night, if Yaoyorozu’s insistence on bringing face masks is any indication. Said items are currently laid out on Ochako’s modest coffee table, with every girl from 1-A along with Kendo, Ibara, and an out of place Midoriya and Todoroki gathered around it.
On occasion, they allow some of the boys to partake in Girl’s Night as well.
Some sort of soft rock music plays softly from a portable speaker Jirou brought and the room smells sweetly of a dessert tea Yaoyorozu supplied.
“Are you sure it’s alright we’re here?” Midoriya asks, gnawing at his lip.
Ochako grins and waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. It’s fine!” she chirps.
“We trust you both more than Mineta,” Yaoyorozu adds.
Jirou grimaces. “Don’t taint the sacred place of Girl’s Night with the goblin’s name.”
Todoroki bites back a snort, Midoriya nods solemnly. They are all on the same page.
“Plus,” Ochako adds, eyeing Todoroki. “We figured you could use a quiet place to chill out.” There’s distinct bags under his eyes, have been for quite a few days. Midoriya’s been sticking with him; where one goes, the other usually follows. Todoroki opens his mouth as if to protest, and Jirou tosses a sheet mask at him. It hits his face, falls into his lap to reveal a stunned expression.
“It’s cucumber,” Jirou supplies, her tone one of finality. Todoroki relents, tearing the plastic off and pulling it out. He regards it cautiously as it dangles between two fingers, like it might morph into some sludge monster and attack him.
“Slimey,” he mumbles. Midoriya snorts.
“Todoroki-kun, here,” Yaoyorozu makes a show of unfolding hers, placing it on her own face. It’s designed to look like a tiger, but the nose doesn’t quite match up with her own, so she instead looks like some knock-off tiger that you’d find in a dollar store. It totally clashes with her demeanor. Todoroki grimaces but follows suit. After some tugging (Yaoyorozu), cooing (Mina), and hums of approval (Tsuyu), Todoroki’s face resembles a strange monkey.
“Deku, yours is on backwards!” Tsuyu points out. Midoriya makes distressed noises, peeling the mask off of his face, wrinkling his nose at the offending item. He flips it around so now the cat face on the mask is on display. “Like this?” he asks.
Hagakure squeals with delight.
“Now, class prince, to bed with ya!” Mina is behind Todoroki suddenly, hooking her arms under his armpits and tugging him towards a mound of blankets that Ochako had lied and said was just a pile of laundry. The combination of Todoroki’s surprise and Mina’s tenacity have him deposited firmly into the plush corner, sputtering indignantly.
Midoriya blinks behind his sheet mask. Todoroki tries to get up, and Mina shoves him back down in a surprising display of strength.
“Don’t we need to put cucumbers on his eyes?” Jirou asks. “Y’know, to give him the whole immersive spa experience?”
Todoroki frowns. “I thought you said the mask was cucumber.”
“Aha! So you’re going with it!” Ochako flashes a grin.
“W-what? No, it’s just—isn’t double cucumber bad or something?”
“Look at him, kero , he’s melting into the blankets.”
“Dude, just go with it.” Jirou’s retrieved a nail file from somewhere, rubbing at her own blunt nails with it.
“I can sing to you! I’ll sing a lullaby!” Hagakure clears her throat.
Mina nods fervently. “I’ll sing back up!”
“ No ,” Yaoyorozu pleads.
“That’d be counterproductive, kero .”
Mina scowls, plants her feet shoulder width apart, like doing so would miraculously make her sing like an angel. “Alriiiight, Tooru!”
“And a one, and a two—”
Tsuyu firmly clamps her hands in front of their mouths, nearly missing Hagakure’s. She corrects her mistake when Hagakure gets one note into a song, and the rest is muffled. Everyone else sighs in relief. Midoriya picks at the edge of his face mask and glances at Todoroki. “Oh.”
“Hm?” Ochako’s head swivels around. “Oh! Oh , shhh! Everyone shaddup!”
Todoroki is the pinnacle of relaxation, resting on swaths of Ochako and the rest of the girls’ softest blankets, sheet mask placed delicately on his face, chest rising and falling slowly.
“Ptwahh!” Mina pushes Tsuyu’s hand away. “Gimme my phone, my phone!” The pink device is deposited into her hand by Jirou and she crouches down, snapping more pictures than necessary.
“Now!” Mina tosses her phone onto the coffee table once she’s satisfied. It hits it with a thunk and Ochako lets out a startled squeak. “Midoriya, what product do you use in your hair?”
Midoriya’s hands go into his hair instinctively. “U-uh… shampoo and conditioner—wait, what are you doing—”
Yaoyorozu is brandishing a towel and a comb. Tsuyu has a clear box full of clips of all shapes in colors. Ochako smiles innocently, though there’s a gleam in her eye that makes Midoriya swallow nervously.
“I should probably l-leave—”
“Tooru, restrain him!” Ochako whisper-shouts.
Midoriya watches in restrained horror as the girls descend upon him.
If any of them had looked to the pile of comfort in the corner an hour later, they would have seen Todoroki’s soft smile as they wrestled Midoriya’s hair into french braids. If music had not been playing, they would have heard a quiet snort as well.
5. Midoriya
In Izuku’s completely friendly opinion: Todoroki looks like shit.
He wasn’t expecting to bump into his stoic friend in the kitchen at 2 am, yet here they both are. Izuku had lost track of time studying, and before he could let sleep overtake him his stomach had loudly protested. When he had padded into the kitchen, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw someone else in there, lit only by the light over the stove.
Harsh light casts odd shadows over the coffee maker and the pile of clean dishes drying, as well as deepening the obvious bags under his friend’s eyes. Izuku bites into an apple, wincing as the crunching noise seems louder than normal: a strange side effect of eating food at odd hours of the night. Todoroki hovers in front of the electric kettle, fingers drumming against the counter with nervous energy.
“Can’t sleep?” Izuku tries.
Todoroki grunts in response, one shoulder lifting in a tired shrug. Izuku takes another bite, watches his friend specifically not look at him, sinks his teeth into the apple again. The kettle boils, loud and rumbling, and Todoroki flicks it off, pouring it into a cup with a teabag. Wisps of steam are highlighted in the harsh stove light, looking ethereal and like they don’t quite belong.
Todoroki turns, cradling the hot mug tightly between his hands. The steam wafts over his face, crawls over his hair and dissipates lazily into the air. He takes a sip. Izuku tosses his apple core into the bin and watches him carefully.
“You’re doing it again,” Todoroki suddenly says.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to figure out how to save me.”
Izuku blinks. “Do you need saving again?”
Todoroki’s lip twitches in an almost-smile. He shakes his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes slightly. The two lapse into silence, and the strange noises of the dorm around them come to the forefront. The fridge makes weird gurgling noises every once in a while. Above them, the ceiling creaks with either someone moving, or with the building itself settling. Or both. Izuku knows that they are not the only ones awake at this hour.
But the night has always held a sense of isolation and separation from others.
Izuku leans against the island counter, tilting his head back and breathing in the not-stillness of the night. He can hear Todoroki shift, can hear socks sliding against the smooth kitchen titles. Todoroki exhales softly a few feet to Izuku’s right, leaning against the counter as well.
“It’s just,” Todoroki pauses, takes a slow sip of his tea. From here, Izuku can smell peppermint and chamomile. Useful for fitful sleep. He’d seen Yaoyorozu depositing a box of tea into Todoroki’s hands a few days ago.
Izuku turns his head to Todoroki, watches how the light hits his cheekbones, sinks in underneath his eyes and accentuates the purple of no sleep there.
Todoroki works his jaw, gaze fixated on the single bulb lit, as if it gives him courage. “It’s… a night.”
And in those three words, Izuku understands what he means completely. It’s a night, a night for thoughts that are kept at bay by the light to creep in. A night for sleep to evade you completely, taunting you from just out of your reach. A night for tea and sleep-aids and the otherworldly creaking and groaning of building infrastructure.
Izuku takes in Todoroki’s slouch, how his shoulders slump back, body language betraying his true exhaustion.
“C’mon,” Izuku says. He flicks off the light, plunging them into mostly-darkness. The moonlight flows in from the windows, so they’re not completely blind. “Quiz me for our history test tomorrow.”
“W-wait, what?” Todoroki’s on his heels as he heads into the hall, blinking at the brightness.
Izuku presses the call button on the elevator. “Our history test.”
Todoroki frowns. “You’ve been studying for that all day.”
They step into the elevator. “So I have,” Izuku agrees.
When they step into Izuku’s room, he wastes no time in shoving Todoroki towards the foot of his bed, sitting across from him moments later with his class notes in hand. Todoroki still has his mug of tea, and Izuku plucks it from his hands and deposits it onto his nightstand.
“Quiz me,” Izuku repeats, pushing the notebook at Todoroki. His friend blinks back confusion, staring at Izuku like he doesn’t quite understand. Izuku stares back. Sighing, Todoroki relents, and flips open Izuku’s notebook.
They make it about thirty minutes before Todoroki is leaning against the wall and Izuku has to take over the quizzing. Todoroki’s responses become more and more subdued and muttered, and somehow they wind up resting against one another, Todoroki’s head on Izuku’s shoulder, and Izuku’s face halfway buried into Todoroki’s hair. The notebook lays on the ground, forgotten.
The crick and pain in Izuku’s neck is completely worth it when they wake up, when Todoroki slowly pulls himself from Izuku’s side and murmurs, “Thank you.”
+1 Todoroki
Movie nights are, Shoto is discovering, something he quite enjoys. The space around the TV is barely big enough to fit all 20 members of class 1-A at one given moment, but somehow they make it work. He isn’t quite sure who picked the movie tonight. If he were to venture to guess, probably Ashido or Hagakure. At the end of it, half the class is wiping their eyes ( “A dog… who kills the dog ?!” Kirishima had cried, clutching fiercely onto a less-murdery Bakugou), while the other half pretend to be completely unaffected (Tokoyami’s feathers had not puffed up at the end. Had not ).
Usually, after the initial movie, someone pops in another one at random. No one really pays all that much attention, and about 99% of the time those who didn’t retreat back to their rooms fall asleep in the common room.
Tonight, Shouto revels in the peace of being the only one left awake.
The title screen of the animated movie Kaminari had popped in loops and restarts, soft orchestral music floating from the almost-muted TV. Bright greens and blues highlight his sleeping classmate’s faces who stayed:
Kaminari has his head tilted back at an inhuman angle. Iida has his arms folded across his chest from his perch on the couch, looking watchful even as the tiniest bit of drool forms at the corner of his mouth. Uraraka and Asui sit back to back, leaning against the other couch that Bakugou is occupying, the latter taking up as much space as possible. Midoriya’s fallen asleep on Todoroki’s shoulder, and he considers it payback for the other night (he’s fine with it). Jirou, Yaoyorozu, and Kirishima are splayed across the floor, Kirishima’s face squashed into the carpet.
Shouto sighs, reveling in the peace of it all. The feeling of being surrounded by people that he feels safe with, that make him comfortable enough to doze off from time to time. People that he had zero intention of becoming as close as he is with them now. It’s a new feeling, unknown and somehow an entire entity to get to know. Shoto’s a good learner.
As his classmates, his friends, sleep around him, Shouto relaxes, basking in the quiet of it all.