Work Text:
Shouto didn’t know if he wanted to scream, cry, or take a long, long nap and hope everything was a lucid nightmare. But he knew luck had never been a teammate of his—and thus, he blinked down at the papers he’d received from the official testing center just a few streets away from UA. They’d gone in smaller groups of five to the center a month and a half ago to see what they classified as.
And there, printed right at the margin of the letter, was Shouto’s death sentence.
Congrats! You’re Little!
Shouto twitched with the urge to burn the paper—but, no, the fire alarm would go off, and then questions would be asked, and that’s the last thing Shouto wanted. His phone buzzed with unread messages—the class group chat was going wild, apparently, as everyone updated others on their classification.
He read through the chat log with a pinched brow and forming headache. The class had an even or so amount of Neutrals and Babysitters. There were seven caregivers—Midoriya (no surprise there), Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Asui, Hagakure (which – interesting), Shoji, and, to Shouto’s slight shock, Bakugo. Until, of course, he remembered how Bakugo acted with the other kids at their remedial lessons. It wasn’t surprising after that.
There were two confirmed Littles, though—Shinsou and Aoyama. According to a message Aizawa had sent earlier, there were four Littles in the class. His classmates were discussing the last two.
poison types: ye im wondering who it is
froppy: could be anyone kero
electric types: hhhhh
urararaka: ??
electric types: im the third lololol
rock types: !!!
rock types: awesome bro!!
ghost types: so,,
ghost types: who’s the last [eye emoji]
ghost types: speak now or forever hold your peace bitch
electric types: alkfjgldfgdg
yuuga: im making a group chat for us [star emoji]
fire types: hitoshi.
ghost types: oop
Shouto exited out of the group chat, a mixed tornado of emotions twisting the pit of his stomach. He knew they’d figure out that he was the last Little, especially once everyone discussed their classifications and he was the only one who had yet to speak. His sigh floated in air, eclipsed by the excited murmurs and shouts of his classmates.
The letter came with a box of items, as everyone’s did. Shouto’s contained pamphlets and resources for Littles followed by two plastic bottles, a box of formula, a soft, plush teddy bear, an even softer blanket, and – a pacifier.
Shouto closed the box and decided to ignore his classification until he no longer could. His phone buzzed some more—a few people were already wondering what his classification was. Shouto turned his volume off and decided to take a nap.
He didn’t sleep. Thoughts ran rampant throughout his mind—all he could think about was the age range of his headspace, his fathers’ reaction to his classification, his siblings’ reaction (he knew they had a running bet going on, and Natsuo was about to get just a bit more richer), his classmates’ reaction. His breath stuttered once, twice.
Something uncomfortable pressed against his chest. If Shouto were poetic, he’d say it was the atmosphere. The knowledge that he now needed to reconfigure his entire plan of action. While there was no law that stated Littles couldn’t be Pro Heroes, Shouto knew there were a small number of Little Pros that were considered the ‘enforcers’.
Most Little Pro Heroes were a variant of Support or Stealth Heroes. Shouto didn’t have anything wrong with that—in fact, thinking about all the ways his quirk could be used in a way that wasn’t immediate offense made him feel just a tad bit better—and, of course, he’d be giving a big ‘fuck you’ to his father by completely screwing with the mans’ “plan” for Shouto’s life.
But. Still.
That option was completely closed off to Shouto. He didn’t even get a choice in the matter. Other Heroes would be hesitant to let Shouto front and center of the battle.
Ah, he thought. There were the waterworks.
His bottom lip trembled. He wished it didn’t.
Someone knocked on the door, hesitant and soft. Slight caregiver pheromones floated to Shouto’s nose—a hint of something . . . minty?—before a familiar voice reached his ears. “Todoroki-kun? Are you alright?”
Before Shouto could smother it, a whine, high pitched and, if he were honest, awful sounding, slipped out of his mouth. “Go – Go ‘way.”
Midoriya was the last person Shouto wanted to see right now. On a typical day, he’d welcome his friend’s thoughtful advice and commentary, but Shouto just . . . wanted to be left alone to stew in his thoughts and emotions.
Unfortunately, he forgot that Midoriya wasn’t the type of person to leave people alone.
His door opened slowly, almost hesitantly, and then shut behind Midoriya with a soft click. He heard the soft footfalls of Midoriya’s feet on the tatami flooring, heard him pause by the box of Little items, and the sharp inhale of realization.
Shouto sniffled. Loudly. He hated crying.
“Aw, baby, what’s the matter?” Midoriya said as he kneeled beside Shouto’s bed. His fingers curled through Shouto’s hair, a soft and gentle touch that made him sigh in contentment. “You’re not feeling well?”
Shouto grumbled something unintelligible. Midoriya hummed as if he completely understood what Shouto had said. Shouto doesn’t even know what he said.
“Don’ wanna be Little,” Shouto explained around a heavy tongue. A frustrated sigh blew past his lips as he saw Midoriya frown.
“Why not, baby?” Midoriya asked, still gentle and concerned. It made Shouto feel small. It made him want to squirm. It – wasn’t a bad feeling. Not like how his father would make Shouto feel. “Are you scared?”
Shouto shrugged. He didn’t really know what he was feeling. Well. He knew, but it was too perplexing and complicated to comb through at the moment. “No. Yes.” He blew a raspberry. “Dunno.”
Midoriya hummed and continued carding fingers through Shouto’s hair in a soothing manner. “Wanna cuddle? Or do you want to be alone?”
Shouto took a moment to think. “We – we can cuddle.”
“Want your paci?”
Shouto shrugged and accepted the offered bulb when Midoriya brushed it against his lips. He made a soft squeak of surprise as Midoriya lifted him up briefly and slipped under the covers. Shouto was pressed against his chest, head tucked beneath Midoriya’s chin.
Midoriya’s arms boxed him in, an arm wrapped tight around Shouto’s waist. Shouto sighed with contentment as Midoriya rubbed his arms lightly.
A peace settled in Shouto’s bones. It was – nice. Comfortable. Shouto almost fell asleep cradled in Midoriya’s gentle embrace.
His phone lit up with notifications. He opened the newest one that proclaimed you’ve been added to . . . It was a new group chat, apparently. Titled let’s wrap ua around our baby fingers.
pikachu: youre required by baby law to change ur user to pokemon
insomnicat changed their name to mimikyu.
aoyama changed their name to poplio!
mimikyu: cute
poplio!: i try
pikachu: @shouto ur turn
Shouto rolled his eyes. He might as well. Midoriya read the messages and chuckled at the conversation.
shouto changed their name to rowlett.
rowlett: happy?
mimikyu: very
mimikyu: im guessing mido is your cg?
rowlett: mhm
pikachu: cool cool
pikachu: i think yaomomo + kiri are like . co-parenting me alfjgkadkfgl
mimikyu: rest in pieces.
pikachu: ur caregiver is bakugo,,
pikachu: may YOU rest in pieces
mimikyu: listen.
poplio!: wait aren’t you supposed to be in time out, monsieur?
mimikyu: gotta blallkadfkgadk
rowlett: miss keisha?
poplio!: miss keisha??
pikachu: ohmy gho d she fucking dead!
rowlett has changed the group chat name to may shinsou hitoshi be remembered.
pikachu: STOP IM ADFKJADLF
pikachu: i CHOKED ON YM JIUCE