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“Um,” Izuku said.
“Sorry,” the stranger offered, while making no move to remove himself from where he had plopped down behind Izuku’s counter. “But I’d like to stay here for a bit, if that’s okay.”
Inside, Izuku was screaming. Loudly. As in, coherent thought had shut down because really, the staying on the dirty café floor wasn’t even really the problem here. It wasn’t even the fact that this stranger had come hurtling through the doors not even a minute previous to slide neatly behind the pastries display, or that there was a random guy behind the counter. Rather –
“Um,” Izuku repeated numbly. “But you’re … aren’t you …”
“Ah,” the stranger said. “Right. I’m Todoroki Shouto.”
And he clearly was. Beneath the terribly generic disguise consisting of a slightly frayed baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, the tips of distinctive red and white hair were peeking out. Not to mention, Izuku kept a highly detailed (and highly embarrassing) several pages of notebook on Shouto, rivalled only by his collection on All Might, from the details of his quirk to his recent triumphs to his tabloid appearances. Of course he was going to recognize one of his personal favourite heroes.
One of his personal favourite heroes, who was now trying to look as inconspicuous as possible on the dirty tiling at Izuku’s part-time job.
“Yes, you are,” Izuku responded faintly. “But, more importantly –”
The cheery ringing of a bell rang through the café. He snapped to attention, putting on the best customer service smile his frayed nerves would allow. Shouto attempted to sink deeper into the floor at Izuku’s feet.
“Hi there,” he recited, cursing the ill-timed arrival as a middle-aged man stepped through the door and leisurely made his way up to the counter, “what can I get for you?”
The man was, by all means, completely unassuming. He was dressed in a simple knit sweater and cuffed jeans, with a rather large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He didn’t look particularly nefarious either – he was lacking the arched eyebrows and the sunken cheekbones and all the hallmarks of a usual villain, but rather was just really ordinary.
Usually Izuku wouldn’t even bat an eye at someone like that walking into the café, but with the way Shouto was crouching in Izuku’s peripheral vision, tense and silent, he couldn’t help but feel all the hairs on his neck stand up on end.
“Yes, hi,” the man said, pulling out his wallet as he came, “Just a medium coffee, thank you.”
Hm. So maybe he was really just a customer? “Sure, coming right up!” Izuku chirped, punching the cost into the card machine and sliding it over the counter, then moving to fill the easy order. He watched as the man tapped his card and slid it back into his wallet, before leaning his back casually against the counter.
Izuku wasn’t sure if he was just on edge because he distinctly felt like he was harboring a fugitive, but something about the customer felt like his movements were just a bit too casual, like he was trying too hard to be subtle. He also didn’t love the way the man was surveying the empty tables, eyes hungrily roaming across the café even while his body was still.
Izuku coughed lightly. “Your order’s ready, sir.”
“Thank you,” the man said agreeably, finally turning back to face Izuku. In his head, Izuku was begging for him to leave (please leave please leave just pick up the coffee and leave), then mentally cheered when the man wrapped his spindly fingers around the drink. But as luck would have it, the man paused, appearing to mull something over.
Oh god please leave before you notice me sweating I must be so suspicious please go –
“You wouldn’t happen to have noticed any, ah, professional heroes that came through here, would you?” the man finally asked, eyes fixed directly on Izuku.
Oh my god he saw right through me this is the end – “N-no sir,” Izuku managed. Giving himself a thorough mental shake – get a grip, Izuku! – he added, meeting the man’s gaze, “I haven’t noticed anything.”
A couple seconds ticked by.
The man continued to watch Izuku. Izuku stood, shock still, returning the look back fiercely even as he felt a drop of sweat roll down his neck. The moment couldn’t have possibly lasted longer than just a moment, maybe two, but it felt like eons.
Finally, finally, the man nodded, offering a polite ‘thank you’ before stepping away from the counter. Izuku let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the door, at long last, swung closed behind the man.
“Uuurghhhh,” Izuku groaned.
A pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, but uh,” Izuku rubbed at his face tiredly, “who was that?”
“A reporter.” Shouto paused. “Thank you for not selling me out.”
Izuku peeked through his fingers and watched, mesmerized, as Shouto – Shouto!! – removed his sunglasses with long, sender fingers, sliding them into the front pocket of his jacket. He lifted his cap briefly to ruffle his bangs quickly, sending the strands falling over his forehead with a surprising lack of hat-hair.
Of course, Izuku knew Shouto was a good-looking man. It was kind of hard to miss, what with all the coverage of Shouto in the media lately as an up-and-coming rookie hero, popular for his skill, looks, and quiet demeanour. But seeing him person was a whole other beast. Having Shouto’s mismatched eyes trained on Izuku was arresting at best and downright intimidating at worst. In fact, Izuku completely forgot that he had stopped speaking for several awkward beats until Shouto furrowed his brow slightly, confusion clearly written all over his usually impassive face.
“RIGHT,” Izuku declared, then winced slightly at his own volume, “Yeah, no problem! By the way, I’m, um, Midoriya Izuku, nice to meet you.” He resisted the urge to shake his head to clear it. He didn’t really think he was making a great first impression, and violently shaking his head like a dog emerging from a bath was most definitely not going to help. “But more importantly, why are you, uh …”
“Hiding from reporters here?” Shouto finished wryly.
Izuku nodded. The relief on his face was probably palpable, Izuku noticed with some embarrassment, as Shouto’s lips quirked up in unmistakeable mirth.
“I’m on my day off,” the hero answered. He crossed his legs, as if ready to settle in for a long time. “I got spotted by some tabloid reporters when I came out for a walk.” He shrugged. “And my PR manager would kill me if I said something to them without her permission, so here I am.”
Makes sense. Shouto was pretty notoriously private, for such a popular hero-slash-celebrity. However … “You need permission to say things?” Izuku noted curiously.
“Yeah,” Shouto affirmed. “She thinks I sometimes say the wrong thing.”
“Um, do you?”
Shouto looked up at the ceiling contemplatively. “Probably.”
The admission startled Izuku into a laugh, at which Shouto raised an eyebrow. “But you seem so collected in interviews! I’ve never noticed anything.”
“That’s because my PR manager intercepts anything that doesn’t pass her standards,” Shouto explained rather dryly. “I scared her a year ago when I told HT News that I was good enough to take the spot of number one hero from my old man, and now I’m not allowed to go on air without her making me rehearse my answers for a week prior.”
“That’s … a surprise,” Izuku said honestly. “B-but I mean, not in a bad way! I guess you come off more, um, soft-spoken in interviews, but it’s kind of funny knowing you’re so honest! Ahhh maybe not ‘funny’ per se, more uh, more … nice?” Izuku resisted the urge to bang his head on the counter at his ineloquence. “I mean, I actually think I like that you said something so honest and straightforward on air.”
Shouto looked mildly bemused. “You think it’s nice I said I was going to rip my dad’s standing away from him?”
“Not when you put it that way!” Izuku laughed. “But also, why not? If that’s how you feel.”
His handsome face scrunched up. “But Endeavour’s my father.”
“Ah, I guess,” Izuku said. He rubbed his palm subconsciously, thinking it through. It probably did feel strange for Shouto, who would likely be feeling some sort of pressure to express respect for his highly illustrious father, especially in public. You can’t just say something rude about your own family, especially not one who, even if not universally well-liked as a persona, was undeniably successful as a hero, and one who a lot of people saw as probably being instrumental in Shouto’s own rising success. “But, you’re your own person, right?” At Shouto’s continued bemusement, Izuku hastily added, “It’s just, you’re a professional hero in your own right, with your own quirk and experiences and successes, all completely unrelated to Endeavour. So it’s not like you owe him any special deference, compared to any other hero. And, um, I guess he’s still your dad, but I’m sure it’s probably fine to trash talk other heroes just a little bit on air, right?”
Izuku finished his thought process to silence and a Shouto who was still sitting on the ground, watching Izuku inscrutably through his dual-toned bangs. He nervously wiped his distinctly moist palms on his apron. Oh god, he had to have overstepped here right? What did he think he was doing, talking about Endeavour as if he knew anything about the hero’s relationship with him, especially within ten minutes of meeting him? “So uh, can I help you with your paparazzi situation?” Izuku asked, forcibly wrenching the topic away from what was probably a horrible, draconian, terrible misstep. “Scare them away? Tell them you went the other way? Um, maybe some tea?”
Shouto started slightly. “Scare them away?”
“Yeah!” Izuku said with much more confidence than he felt. “You know, if more come, tell them they’re not allowed to be here, threaten to call the police, pretend I know how to fight … you know, scare them.”
By this point, Izuku was ready to sink into the ground. Oh god, it was a stupid thing to say wasn’t it? Somehow, he just kept putting his foot in his mouth. Who did he think he was, some barista offering to fight reporters on behalf of a literal hero? Why would someone ever offer to protect a literal, professional hero, who he had just met, who has probably now taken offense if he hadn’t already from the Endeavour fiasco –
A quiet laugh broke through Izuku’s thoughts. Startled, he looked down at Shouto, who was – ohmygod he was smiling, an honest to god smile. “Did you know that you’re talking out loud?”
Ack. “Well, no,” Izuku mumbled, burying his face in his hands. How embarrassing. “Though I’ve been told I do that from time to time. Please ignore me.”
Shouto let out another small exhale. “Well,” he said, amusement relaxing his shoulders, as he leaned against a cabinet, “you don’t need to do that, but tea would be nice. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s not!” Izuku promised, absolutely relieved that the other seemed in perfectly good spirits. “It’s nice to have the company anyways. It’s not very busy this time of day, as you can probably see.” He gestured generally at the empty shop. “You can stay until they’re gone. Or uh, whenever.”
“Thank you, Midoriya.”
And so the rest of Izuku’s shift passed, with Shouto with a cup of tea in his hands, and Izuku waxing lyrical about his All Might figurines (while tactfully leaving out the fact that he definitely had at least a few of Shouto and others in his cohort as well). Eventually Shouto migrated onto a stool (from which he dove each time the bell above the door chimed cheerily, announcing the arrival of a customer), and Izuku finally convinced himself out of staring directly into Shouto’s face every time he needed to assure himself he really was just chatting with the real, live Shouto. By the time the sun began to sink into pretty pink and purple hues and the café was settling into a cozy sunset glow, Izuku had fully leaned into the hero’s company, and Shouto himself seemed far more relaxed and human than he ever had in any interview Izuku had seen of him.
Izuku was also pretty sure any possible lingering tabloid representatives had long since dispersed, but he wasn’t going to think too hard about why Shouto hadn’t made any move to leave yet.
“Tell me more about UA,” Izuku finally said, as he popped the final count of bills into their usual Ziploc bag for safekeeping overnight. He asked with some trepidation – as much as he tried to convince himself and others that he had given up his unattainable dreams of UA and heroism years ago, it was very much still a gaping sore. But he couldn’t not ask. He needed to know about the life he missed out on.
Shouto hummed. “Exciting, I guess.”
Izuku laughed despite himself. “You can’t just say it was exciting and not elaborate. How was it exciting? What were classes like? What’s it like participating in Sports Festival?”
“My classmates were a lot more competent than I initially expected,” Shouto offered, after some thought. “Fighting them and alongside them was always exhilarating.” He paused. “We did also get attacked by villains a lot.”
“Ah yeah, I heard about that.” Izuku winced in sympathy. Actually, he’d done a lot more than heard about the incidents. He’d religiously followed each count, combing the repetitive news articles for more information. At least a photo or ten of All Might made it to his notebook collection from the various cases, including one of him straining against the seams of his suit at a short interview on the USJ incident, and another of him emerging tattered and frail from his fight with All for One, with his finger pointing towards the camera. He’d also kept tabs on Kacchan, whose name has cropped up more and more over the years along with the rest of Shouto’s cohort.
“Well, it was probably less exciting and more stressful,” Shouto amended, wrinkling his nose as Izuku unceremoniously dropped a bag of soggy ground coffee beans into a trolley.
“That’s amazing,” Izuku sighed.
“Getting attacked by villains?”
“What? No!” Izuku exclaimed. He waved his hands wildly. “Nonono I’m sure that was terrifying, I don’t mean –” Izuku deflated quickly once he caught sight of Shouto’s face. “Oh, you were kidding.”
“Yes,” Shouto said agreeably. “What did you think was amazing?”
Izuku took a moment to shoot Shouto a half-hearted glare, which was received with a slight eyebrow raise. (But also, imagine being comfortable enough to glare at Shouto! Izuku from two hours ago would have a heart attack if he knew.) “Well, just being surrounded with amazing people with amazing quirks! Imagine sitting in class with all these people who you know are going to be the next generation of heroes, and having Hero Training class with All Might, of all people, even though I guess that wouldn’t have lasted all three years for you. But also just having lunch with your classmates, and facing off with them and learning their quirks and patterns, and just everything about the Sports Festival, but also the School Festival seems like it would be so much fun, and just … being around people who just as deeply want to just – you know – get in there and help – I just think everything sounds so cool,” Izuku finished a little lamely, feeling acutely aware that he was rambling. “Is that weird?”
Shouto, who had been watching Izuku thoughtfully all through Izuku’s mini-rant, shook his head. “No,” he responded easily, “I like your perspective.”
“Huh,” Izuku said, still feeling red stinging his cheeks, “really?”
The hero ran a finger over the lip of his mug absentmindedly. “Yeah. It’s refreshing. You’re very genuine.”
Oh god, Shouto just complimented him. Or at least Izuku was fairly certain it was a compliment. He felt his cheeks flare hotter immediately in response. “Y-yeah?”
Shouto quirked his lips up again in what was definitely a soft smile. “Yeah,” he affirmed, “you should’ve been in our class. You would’ve liked it.”
Ah. That’s the thing – Izuku was certain he would’ve liked it too. Loved it. If not plagued by a pesky condition called “quirklessness”, maybe that would’ve been a reality, but as things stood … “Ah, I didn’t get accepted when I applied,” he admitted, smiling wryly, “but I do still like to think about it sometimes.”
Shouto’s eyebrows knitted together. “What a shame,” he said, a touch softly, “I think you would’ve fit in perfectly.”
And just like that, Izuku’s eyes prickled hotly. It was an age-old hurt that he thought for sure he had managed to stuff it deep into the cobwebby corners of his mind, but here was Shouto, an amazing, professional hero who possessed Half-Cold Half-Hot – a quirk that was by all means one of the most powerful among even all the heroes, who had known Izuku for two hours and hadn’t asked once about what was probably a very conspicuously missing quirk, who thought Izuku would have fit into UA.
“I …” Izuku shook his head, lowering his eyes to land on the ugly yellow cloth in his hands. “That means a lot. Thanks, Shouto.”
Shouto shrugged, looking a little abashed. “I just say what I think.”
“Exactly,” Izuku responded. He smiled at Shouto, who hesitatingly returned it. “That’s why I value what you’re saying.”
Izuku finished his closing routine in relative silence with Shouto, who offered to help only to be immediately shot down by Izuku. It gave him some time to mull over the other’s words a bit more, and Shouto seemed happy to just watch Izuku go about his routine.
Izuku also very charitably did not mention that Shouto had long since stopped peering suspiciously out the windows to spot any particularly stubborn reporters who might be lingering.
“Well, I have to close up now,” he finally said, as he took one last sweeping look across the café. “It really was nice meeting you Shouto, and ohmygod I forgot to ask.” Honestly, it might be kind of weird to ask now, but Izuku made it this far and it would be even weirder to not ask now so – “Um, would it be okay if I got your signature? By any chance? I’m so sorry if this is weird, especially since we’ve been talking for like two hours now, and you can say no if you want –”
Shouto shook his head. “It’s fine. If you have some paper …”
After some extensive rummaging for a scrap of paper and a pen – surprisingly difficult things to find in a café – Shouto scribbled his signature on the scrap as Izuku bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. He handed the paper to Izuku. “Thank you for letting me stay for so long. It was very kind of you.”
“It was nothing at all, really!” Izuku exclaimed, gesticulating wildly to really drive home how much it was not a problem. “Honestly, it was pretty quiet and having the company was nice. I’m more flattered you didn’t mind spending so much of your day off here – though I guess you had to, what with the tabloid and all that,” he amended.
Shouto hesitated, rolling the pen back and forth between his fingers. “I enjoyed this,” he finally said, slow and measured. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind doing this again.”
He.
He wouldn’t mind doing this again?
“What?” Izuku squeaked.
Shouto shifted uncomfortably. “Only if you’re okay with it, of course –”
“Nonono of course that’d be fine!” Izuku interrupted in a panic. “Sorry, I was just surprised, but I’d like that too, really. Although I don’t know if my manager’s going to be too happy if he finds out I’ve been harboring a professional hero in the cabinets during my shifts.”
Shouto gently tugged the paper from Izuku’s hands. In a trance, Izuku watched as Shouto flipped it over and scribbled a series of numbers on the back. “Here,” Shouto said, satisfied, placing the slip back into Izuku’s palm, “I’m sure we can figure something out outside of your work.”
Outside of work. Outside of work. That sounded a lot like an invitation to spend time together. One-on-one. Not to mention he had quite literally just given Izuku what was almost most-definitely his number. In a surge of unprecedented confidence (that he hopefully was not going to regret later), Izuku asked, “Maybe we can do dinner next week?”
The soft crinkling at the edges of Shouto’s eyes told Izuku he had said the right thing. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Izuku beamed.