Chapter Text
Toshinori huffs a sigh, and immediately falls into a coughing fit, his cheeks filling with color. A small hand falls onto his shoulder and he stiffens up.
“All Might, are you okay?” Toshinori groans, he should’ve never accepted young Midoriya’s invitation to dinner. For God’s sake, he’s almost fifty years old. He’s too old to be having crushes of all things. And definitely too old to be crushing on his student and successor’s mother . There were so many things wrong with this. But the soft hand rubbing circles into his shoulder as he hacks up what’s left of his lung has him weighing the pros and cons.
He’s retired now. But young Midoriya’s made a name for himself and he has to do everything in his power to keep him safe, like he promised Midoriya-san he would. Plus he’s too old, washed up, a has been--hell he doesn’t even have half of his organs anymore--
“All Might?” Midoriya-san’s worried voice cuts through his wave of thoughts and he straightens up, pulling the crook of his arm away from his mouth. It’s covered in blood.
He waves her off, “I’m fine, thank you, Midoriya-san.” She sits back on her calves and picks up her chopsticks again, not looking too convinced. Young Midoriya’s already face deep in his bowl of katsudon, used to his coughing spells by now. It’s only when he picks up his chopsticks and starts in on his own much, much smaller bowl that she seems to be satisfied and tucks in herself.
Toshinori’s never had the time to give dating much thought, or even entertain what kind of things he looks for in a man or woman before--well, except for that thing with Nighteye--but Midoriya-san ticks all of his boxes: nurturing, loving, one hell of a cook, and she wears her hair in a half ponytail. He starts coughing again. God, he’s really too old for this shit.
But, he thinks as she cuts her eyes to him again. He takes another small bite of his food and hums in contentment. It’s never too late.