Chapter Text
"You know, I've, um." Izuku poked shyly at the strawberry already sinking into the frosting on his slice of cake with his fork. "Never been on a Christmas date before."
"Me either," Shouto said easily. Izuku peeked up at him, across the table, two slices of cake and matching teacups nestled between them. Shouto's expression was its usual serious self, but his eyes were warm as they searched his face. "It's going well, right?"
Blunt as ever, but his question was so earnest that Izuku replied, "Yes," and hid his face in his teacup, gulping down his blush.
They'd been planning their date ever since the reading period before finals, really. Shouto's family lived in the same prefecture as Izuku's, albeit on the other side where all the mansions and private estates were. They met in the middle, right in the busy downtown area, and went shopping, which was an embarrassing series of Izuku pointing out things he liked and Shouto trying to buy them for him. In most instances, Izuku had deterred him ("But you want games that are only on the newest model." "Put it back!"), but they still had a few bags to carry around the crowded streets: notebooks with textured covers and smooth paper, fancy pens, a few books, and a fleece blanket that was the exact shade of green as UA's school color.
"I have to get you something, too," Izuku had insisted.
"How about cake?" Shouto replied.
So here they were, cozied up in the back of a quiet coffee shop, eating ridiculously decadent Christmas cake while soft jazz played over the speakers. It didn't seem to matter if they were on camps or downtown over the break; they always found their way to a coffee shop.
“I’m getting you that PlayStation.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Shouto’s hand found his across the table, fingers tracing over Izuku’s scars. For months, he’d hated the sight of them, the reminder of the injury that ended his competitive cheerleading career. Now every time Izuku looked at his hands, he could feel the memory of Shouto’s lips coasting over the curve of his palm, pressing kisses into his scars as if they were something beautiful.
“The cake is nice,” Izuku managed. It was one thing to steal away to their dorm rooms and sneak kisses between smiles while their roommates were in class, but he couldn’t help the shyness that crept up his spine when Shouto showed affection in public. It was never exactly smooth; Shouto had the looks of a prince but was blunt and shy and awkward in ways that shot through Izuku’s heart like an arrow. If the thought of kissing Izuku popped into Shouto’s head, he did it—in line at the dining hall; while sitting at their favorite table at the Cape, a little café in the center of campus; that one time when Izuku tried to show off his All Might impression and ended up dissolving into giggles. Kissing seemed to pop into Shouto’s head a lot.
“It is,” Shouto agreed, and then, just like Izuku knew he would, he lifted Izuku’s hand to his lips and kissed along his knuckles.
Izuku squirmed in his seat. “We’re in public,” he reminded, voice little more than a strangled hiss.
“I love you.”
Blunt! Oblivious! Izuku melted as Shouto’s smile pressed affection into his wrist. Embarrassing though the PDA might have been…well, Izuku had never had a boyfriend before. He’d never even been on a date before Shouto. Being loved was not an overrated experience.
When Shouto’s grey and blue eyes lifted to catch his gaze, there was a twinkle of victory there that jolted Izuku out of his haze of affection and into flustered indignation. Maybe Shouto wasn’t so oblivious after all.
“We’re in public,” he managed again.
“Should we go?” Shouto asked, and had it been anyone else asking that question, Izuku might have hoped for the floor to swallow him up. In Shouto’s low, serious voice, though, there was no implication, no hidden meaning. To further that point, Shouto was endearingly quick to add, “After we finish our cake.”
“Sweet tooth,” Izuku said. Shouto blinked slowly at him, then pressed one last, slow kiss to the center of his clammy palm.
“Maybe.”
While Shouto finished his cake, Izuku focused on getting his rabbiting heartbeat to calm down. The little coffee shop got more crowded as couples with arms full of bags and packages settled in for cake and coffee. They’d probably have to move soon, to be polite to others waiting for a table.
Shouto’s fork clicked against his clean plate. “Where would you like to go next?”
There was a softness in his voice that blew all embarrassment from Izuku’s mind. He’d come to know that tone of voice. It was almost ten o’clock, and even though they were too old for curfews, this was about the time of night when one or both of them would start yawning, and they’d have to go home. The whole winter break thus far—they saw each other practically daily—Shouto grew antsy around that time, looking for one more activity, one more excuse to stay out late. One more reason not to go home. That reluctance hid in the low, gentle timbre of his voice.
“Oh! Um, let’s see, what’s nearby…?” Izuku would stay out as late as possible tonight. It was Christmas. Their first Christmas together. Neither the tea warming him from the inside and the sudden heaviness in his eyelids, nor the yawn threatening to escape, would end this date too soon.
Shouto perked up, hands all over Izuku’s again. Flushing, Izuku threaded their fingers together. The handsome shade of pink that swept over Shouto’s face rewarded him.
“We could go ice skating,” Shouto suggested. Izuku gave him a wry look. They both knew that Izuku couldn’t skate, and although Shouto had given him a few lessons, he just couldn’t get the hang of gliding on the blades. Every attempt ended with him slipping and sliding into Shouto’s arms, staying upright only with his full body weight resting on his boyfriend. Izuku had a sneaking suspicion that Shouto kept suggesting it for this reason, even though Izuku was more than happy to leave skating to the hockey team.
“Where?” Izuku asked, smirking at his own retort. He was calling Shouto’s bluff.
“There’s a temporary outdoor rink behind the train station,” Shouto said, already standing up. “I saw it this morning. The city must have set it up for Christmas. We can rent skates there.”
Tricked!
Sure enough, there was a big oval artificial rink blocked off behind the shopping center. Barriers like the plexiglass at UA’s Torino Rink rounded a constructed floor but didn’t prevent passers-by from looking in at the skaters. Izuku watched a woman spin around, her back arched, arms arced gracefully overhead. Great. All of these people would have a front-row seat to his wipeouts.
Shouto paid for rental skates before Izuku had a chance, and also got a locker for them to store their bags. While Izuku tied his skates as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable, Shouto did a warmup lap around the rink. Without his hockey gear, or even the bulkier skates that came with the sport, his grace on the ice shone more than ever. His mother was a champion figure skater, and as Izuku’s eyes remained glued to Shouto’s effortless skating, he thought back to every video he’d seen of Rei Todoroki. Shouto skated like his mother, and nothing like his—no. Izuku wasn’t spending a second of his Christmas thinking about Endeavor.
By the time Shouto returned to the entrance, Izuku was laced up and wobbling to his feet like a newborn deer finding its legs. “Go around again,” he said, and the corner of Shouto’s mouth quirked up. “Do a jump.”
“Okay.” Shouto was being generous, giving Izuku more time off the ice. Izuku watched him skate off again, picking up speed as he rounded the oval. Other couples skated together holding mittened hands and leaning into each other. Izuku had to admit, it looked nice. Actually, pretty romantic. Clinging to the barrier, he opened the door onto the ice and struggled on, feet slip-sliding beneath him. He still couldn’t figure out who, once upon a time, thought strapping knives to shoes and hurtling onto slippery ice was a good idea.
When Shouto came around the final turn, he spun so that his back was to Izuku, one leg lifting behind him. One slow rotation on the ice—as slow as he could be, skating backwards at his current speed—and Shouto pushed off, arms crossing over his chest, body spinning almost too fast to count the three rotations before he landed on one foot, arms and remaining leg arcing out like a bird’s wings.
People around him clapped or shouted, and Izuku even caught an inexperienced couple of skaters on the opposite side of the rink stumbling against each other, distracted at those moves. Pride warmed his chest. Shouto was an amazing skater, and all it took was one look to see how much joy it brought him to be on the ice right now. Skating for himself, free.
Izuku clapped as Shouto approached. It took all the power and luck he possessed not to slip and fall with no hands steadying himself against the barrier. Shouto’s arms were already outstretched when he approached, and Izuku grabbed his hands on instinct. Without breaking speed at all, Shouto turned himself around Izuku so that Shouto was both ahead of him and skating backwards, and Izuku’s body followed his lead, gliding forward with zero grace and all awkwardness.
“That was a pretty fancy jump,” Izuku said. If Shouto had wanted to be a figure skater, he could have gone to the Olympics just like his mother, but Izuku was sure his father never would have allowed it.
“I was showing off,” Shouto said seriously. His hands slid up Izuku’s forearms and rested under his elbows, offering his arms as a brace for Izuku as they turned at the corner of the rink. “That’s it. You really are getting better.” As if on cue, Izuku stumbled. It was only a little slip, one even Izuku could have recovered from, but Shouto folded him into his arms anyway, embracing him as they glided along. “Did I impress you?”
“Yeah,” Izuku said. Shouto’s lips curved into a smile against Izuku’s temple. “You always do.” Then, to his horror, he yawned.
Much as he tried to stifle it, he knew that Shouto had felt the reflex. Izuku swallowed that last bit of the gulp for air awkwardly, cheeks puffing out around it. Under his arms, Shouto’s posture shifted.
“You’re tired,” he said gently. “I should take you home.”
“No, I can stay,” Izuku said hurriedly. “You said it yourself that I’m getting better. I should practice.”
Shouto exhaled a breath of laughter against his curls. “Fine. One more lap around the rink, and then I’ll take you home like a good date.”
Izuku knew what that meant, too; Shouto was intent on winning over Izuku’s mother. Izuku wasn’t exactly sure why Shouto was so fixated on this, since Inko adored him the moment they met. Actually, even before they met. Apparently Izuku talked about Shouto a lot whenever he called his mother. It was embarrassing, in retrospect, how shrewd her expression had been when she’d suggested Izuku invite Shouto over for dinner during the break.
“My mom loves you, you know.”
Shouto hesitated, then finally slipped back, giving them some distance and only holding Izuku’s hands while they skated. “You know…” A long pause followed, and Izuku waited, his eyes tracing the solemn expression on his boyfriend’s face. “I’d really like it if you met my mother, too,” Shouto said finally. Izuku’s hands tightened on his instinctively.
“Oh!” He swallowed. “Well, I—I’d like that, too.”
Warmth spread across Shouto’s expression. “Okay. Great. Next time I see her, maybe, if she’s feeling well.”
Shouto’s mother was in a wellness facility. Izuku didn’t ask a lot of questions about it, and Shouto didn’t offer much information. The fact that Shouto wanted to take him there…Izuku knew what a big deal that was.
“You know that you’ve skated all the way around without stumbling once,” Shouto said. Izuku blinked, looked down at his feet, then up again.
“You…sound almost disappointed.”
A hint of teasing amusement flickered in Shouto’s smile. “Not at all. You’re doing great.”
The affection that had his stomach butterflies was too much. Izuku leaned forward too much, knowing from experience that it would throw off his balance and send him falling into Shouto’s dependable arms. The December air chilling the rink around them disappeared into the safety of that embrace.