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"Please," Izuku says. His fingers twist in the fabric of Shouto's shirt, eyes wet. "Alpha, please."
Shouto's hand curls around the back of Izuku's neck, holding him firmly. It's enough for Izuku to relax slightly, to even his breathing. They've taken years to get to this point, but now Shouto knows that there's no getting a coherent answer from Izuku unless he's relaxed enough to answer questions and right now he really needs an answer. This behavior is unusual from Izuku outside of a heat, and that's all the more reason why Shouto wants a clear answer as to what's going on before he does anything.
Their relationship isn't fragile, but it is built on trust and Shouto doesn't feel comfortable taking advantage of Izuku if he's been hit by any number of known quirks that can induce heat or rut. They've talked about it before, and there's a protocol.
"What do you need?"
"Please," Izuku repeats. He's actually crying now, but it doesn't answer Shouto's question. "Please, please, please."
"Shh, shhhhhh." Shouto's grip on Izuku tightens, trying to get him lucid enough to answer a question. He doesn't know what happened to make Izuku like this outside of a heat, and he needs an answer to that question before anything else. As much as he generally loves Izuku begging, it's not really helping at the moment. "You need to tell me what you're asking for first."
Izuku sobs, burying his face in Shouto's chest and getting them nowhere. Shouto lets a rumble radiate through his chest, trying to calm Izuku, while he pulls his phone out to call Uraraka. If he can't get an answer from Izuku himself, he'll get an answer from the next best source.
"Hello? Todoroki-kun?" Uraraka sounds vaguely confused, which isn't promising. "Did you need something?"
"Did something happen to Izuku while he was out today? He's -" Izuku is still crying, and Shouto pets his hair gently. "He's acting like he's in heat, but he isn't. I thought - I thought it might have been a quirk."
"I don't think any of the villains we fought today had a quirk like that." She sounds thoughtful, like she's trying to work out if they could be used that way. "But we did encounter someone with a quirk somewhat like Shinsou-kun's. Do you think that could have been it?"
Shouto thinks it over. This is really Izuku's area of expertise, the usage and specifics of quirks. He's never encountered something like this before though and the way Izuku is now nuzzling his neck, right over where their bond mark is, makes it it difficult to concentrate on anything.
"Possibly. Sorry to bother you, but I have to take care of this."
"Of course." Uraraka's voice is bright, but with the edge of worry he's come to associate with how over-protective she can be of Izuku. They all are, really. "Take good care of Midoriya-kun, okay?"
“I will.”
Shouto hangs up and threads his fingers through Izuku's hair and not-quite-gently pulling him away from where he's been scenting. It earns him a whimper, and Shouto mentally apologizes to Izuku, but he knows now that this is likely the result of a quirk and the thing he absolutely needs to know first is that Izuku is coherent enough to recognize him.
“Izuku,” Shouto says gently, but firmly, “do you know my name?”
“Alpha,” Izuku says. His fingers twist in Shouto's shirt. “You're my Alpha.”
“No.” Shouto moves his hand from where he'd tangled it in Izuku's hair to the back of Izuku's neck again, trying to get him to give an actual answer. “What's my name?”
“Alpha,” Izuku tries again. His eyes are wet, and Shouto feels guilt bloom in his chest. “Alpha, please.”
With a sigh, Shouto pulls Izuku to him and pets his hair. It's clear that he's not going to get an answer out of Izuku anytime soon, so instead he leads them into the bedroom and settles Izuku on the bed. Kissing Izuku's temple, Shouto locks him into the restraints they have installed for this exact reason. Most quirks wear off eventually, so when they'd discussed what to do in a situation like this, they'd come up with this solution. Once Izuku realizes that he can't go anywhere, he cries. It's a proper omega cry of the sort Shouto rarely hears from his mate, and it tugs at the alpha inside him but he merely smooths a hand over Izuku's hair.
“I know,” he says. “I know what you think you want, but I can't know you actually want it.”
“Alpha, please.” Izuku cries, tugging against the restraints. “Please. Please.”
There are other ways to soothe an omega in heat—or one that at least thinks they are—so Shouto pins Izuku into place on the bed and tries to cover him as much as possible. The closeness of an alpha helps, Shouto knows, the feeling of being crowed and pinned down. It doesn't stop Izuku from crying, but it does get him to stop thrashing and that's what Shouto wants the most. The restraints are good, but if Izuku tries hard enough? They'll break, and that's the exact opposite of what Shouto wants or needs right now.
“There's my good omega,” Shouto purrs. He nuzzles Izuku's neck, right over where the bond mark is, and tries to get him to settle. “There you go.”
Izuku has mostly calmed, between the scenting and the closeness, but he still says Alpha in a hiccuping sob every few minutes even though he knows that he's lost the battle. It sounds so pathetic, so pleading, that Shouto is absolutely sure that someone with less control would be struggling to deal with this. As it is, his own control is fraying—biology is much like quirks, in that respect. He could give into his alpha instincts right now, but he won't. It would be betraying the trust Izuku placed in him when he'd bared his neck and let Shouto bite down to claim him.
No matter what, Shouto refuses to let that happen.