Work Text:
My son is better than yours (feat. the Todorokis)
Gakushuu steps into his house and hears the boisterous laughter of two men and his face immediately falls. Right, today was that day.
He’d seen it coming. He’d flipped the calendar hanging in the hall to catalogue any events his father had recorded and seen this date, today, and immediately blanched. But knowing this was coming was different from actually experiencing it, and Gakushuu prepares himself for the worst, because if there was anyone in this world more annoyingly self-assured and annoying than Gakuhou Asano, it would be his long-time friend and business associate Enji Todoroki.
“Hello, Gakushuu,” his father says, announcing his presence and ruining chances of Gakushuu making it from the front door to his room without any interaction with both of them whatsoever.
“Father, Mr Todoroki,” Gakushuu greets pleasantly. He suffers through painfully awkward small talk with the two then retreats upstairs. He resigns to his fate of one miserable evening and sulks all the way to his room until he hears a loud bang coming from one of the guest rooms, a very soft “ow”, and his face brightens.
What’s better than one child suffering through his parent’s dick-measuring contest? The answer is two.
“Shouto,” Gakushuu moans dramatically, startling the youngest Todoroki son as he bursts into the guest room.
“Gakushuu? How did you know I was here?” Shouto says.
“I’m attuned to the energy of this house,” Gakushuu explains, “I sensed a disturbance in the aura of this place, and turns out it was affected by your dumbass energy.” He’s clearly spending too much time with Akabane if that was his response, and Shouto probably had his own version of an Akabane if he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by Gakushuu’s dramatics.
Gakushuu all but drags Shouto into his own room, and the two quickly engage in one of their favorite activities: complaining about their fathers. There was a surprisingly large amount of comparability in both of their homelives with their fathers excelling in their respective careers and hoping their sons would do so as well. The two had very quickly bonded on their first meeting at ages 8 and continued correspondence despite distance.
Gakushuu opens his mouth to speak, and whatever words he has dies down on his tongue as Enji’s very agitated voice carries up to his room.
“I forgot how loud your father is,” Gakushuu winces. Shouto makes a face.
“I knew the peace couldn’t last,” Shouto grumbles, and Gakushuu agrees, “why do they always find something stupid to fight about? Why are they still friends?” The last meeting it had been about the most superior brand of tea, which ended up with Gakuhou storming out of the Todoroki complex at 11pm at night and Gakushuu lugging the suitcase he had to hastily re-pack so they could get a hotel for the night. Gakuhou had spent an hour grumbling about Enji’s inferior taste and according to Shouto, Enji had been pissed to all hell that his long-time comrade dared to have a different taste in drinks as he did.
“What is it about this time,” Shouto says, and both of them head out to crouch at the top of the stairs to get a good view of the coffee table that their two fathers were glaring over. They were both drinking coffee, Gakushuu noted, clearly tea was still a sore subject.
Then Gakuhou says, angry and condescending at the same time, “my son is better than yours,” and oh my god, what the fuck is that seriously what they were arguing about this time?
“Shouto got championship at the Taekwondo regionals last summer,” Enji scoffs haughtily, “Gakushuu may be in the basketball school team, but they didn’t even make it to finals this year.”
“Basketball is a team sport and I can guarantee you that the loss was due to the inferior members of the team,” Gakuhou sniffs, “Gakushuu is a phenomenal player. What is Shouto, top ten academically in his cohort? Gakushuu remains as number one, no contest.”
“I hear he’s been slipping,” Enji taunts, “he lost his first place to some other kid last year, didn’t he? On the other hand, Shouto is steadily improving.”
“This is the actual worst argument they’ve ever had in the history of terrible arguments,” Gakushuu deadpans.
“Even worse than the whole paper book versus digital fight?” Shouto says.
Gakushuu thinks for a moment. “My house doesn’t have a physical library to set on fire, so I think we’re good.”
“Why doesn’t your house have a library again?” Shouto asks, “libraries are essential.”
“Because my dad was on the digital book side,” Gakushuu reminds him, “we have a library, and it’s called my kindle.”
Back on the ground floor, Enji slams his hands on the table. “Shouto knows six languages!”
Gakuhou, just as agitated, says back. “So does Gakushuu! And he’s learning two more!”
“This is ridiculous,” Gakushuu mutters. He fishes his phone from his pocket and dials the house landline. The ringing pierces the argument and Enji pauses in his rant, and Gakuhou picks up the phone.
“Asano residence, this is Gakuhou-”
“Both of you need to shut up,” Gakushuu snaps into the phone, “Shouto and I are trying to learn a new language together.”
Shouto snickers beside him. There’s a beat of silence and then Gakuhou says, “which one?”
Gakushuu doesn’t miss a beat. “The language of clear-headed and intelligent adults,” he drawls, “we have to self-learn because it’s clear that there is no grown-up around fluent enough to teach us.”
Gakuhou puts down the phone and blinks a little, and hums consideringly. “On second thought,” he tells Enji, “your son is much more mild-mannered and agreeable with than mine is.”
“Really?” Enji says thoughtfully, “Behind closed doors, perhaps, but Gakushuu is much more charismatic in polite company-”
“That didn’t work out the way I thought it would,” Gakushuu admits.
“Whatever,” Shouto yawns, “let’s take a nap. I’m sleepy.”
“God, you’re always sleepy, Shou.”