Work Text:
Shouto knows it’s late- knows that the last trains are running soon and his father doesn’t like it when he isn’t home at nine o’ clock sharp every night, and it’s already coming up on ten. He knows that if he leaves any later than right now without a ride to the station, he’ll be breaking the local curfew and probably be escorted home by an officer or pro-hero or something. He knows that his phone is buzzing over on Izuku’s computer desk, being bombarded with worried messages from Fuyumi and angry ones from his father.
He knows all of this and he knows all of it well. He knows most of all that the sensible thing to do would be to leave right now, even if he had to face the burning anger of his father and the icy disappointment from his sister when he got to his father’s house.
But then the hand in his shirt tightens, and the nose pressing gently against his neck lets out a warm puff of air, and suddenly he remembers that he may live at his fathers house, but right now he feels like he’s home . His father is just a distant thought, and the idea of leaving becomes unfathomable once again. Green eyes that match equally green hair look up at Shouto, and for a moment it scares him how knowing they look, like Izuku could have simply glanced at him and known everything he needed to about Shouto.
“I should probably-” Shouto pauses for a second, his breath gets caught in his throat and he almost stops talking altogether. He keeps speaking even though he wants to stop. “I mean, I want to stay, but-” Shouto doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The words die on his tongue as he went to half-heartedly speak them, and Izuku picks up where he left off effortlessly.
“So stay, Shouto . ” Izuku whispers, and Shouto’s heart almost leaps out of his chest. And he really, really wants to stay . Every part of his heart is yelling at him to just nod his head and snuggle deeper under Izuku’s covers, and under Izuku as well. But that small and traitorous part of his brain, the one that speaks in a barely-there whisper, reminds him how angry his father will be. How he cannot be a failure, that he must surpass All Might as a hero.
But Izuku is smart, and it went so far beyond what they learned in their classes. He is smart and he is also aware of Shouto by now. Really, Shouto shouldn’t have been surprised when Izuku rose slightly on his elbows, a sleepy grin on his face that Shouto would have seared into his memory, if he could. He should have completely expected Izuku to take Shouto’s face in his hands and look at him in a way that made butterflies flutter wildly in his stomach and a blush erupt across his face.
“Screw your dad. For tonight, you don’t have one.” He should have expected Izuku to say something incredible like that to make Shouto forget everything that wasn’t here and now . “For tonight, you’re just Shouto.” Izuku speaks with such conviction that for a moment, he feels his breath stop and he can pretend that he really is just Shouto. That in another few weeks, when summer vacation is over, they won’t have to go back to a school where the threat of death is very real and very terrifying. Where they won’t have to hold hands under the desks and share touches and looks that linger just long enough that they toe the line of friendly and something else entirely. That he and Izuku are something and happy and together, and that the world cannot tear them apart ever.
But Shouto’s phone rings, and suddenly he is Todoroki Shouto again. He is a hero-in-training, and he is not allowed to dream of such a wonderful life without the burden of a name.
Izuku’s hands are still on his face, and Shouto thinks he can feel each individual callus on his hands as they cradle his jaw with a tenderness Shouto would have thought impossible.
If it weren’t Izuku, he’s sure it would have been.
The silence between them is loud as they let Shouto’s phone ring. The distant sound of rain starting to hit the window comes through as well, but if you asked Shouto he would tell you that the only thing in that room was him and Izuku. Izuku and him, as they are allowed to love and be loved by one another with a love never loved before.
“I don’t have an umbrella.” Shouto says softly, arms coming to wrap around Izuku’s middle in an unspoken agreement. Izuku hums his agreement.
“And I don’t want to break curfew.” They both know that this area of town doesn’t have a curfew. Izuku doesn’t call Shouto out on it, instead letting himself lie back down on top of Shouto, face tucked into the crook of his neck.
“And I don’t want to leave.” Shouto whispers the last part into Izuku’s ear, a feeling of contentment settling itself into his chest easily. Izuku grins, and though Shouto can’t see it he can feel it in his heart, how happy Izuku is.
Though they’re both tired- about to pass out, really- Izuku eventually sits up slowly and stretches. Shouto is confused, he had just taken the time to convince him to stay in the bed, only to get up moments later? He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer.
“As much as I want to just fall asleep,” Izuku says, his voice slurring slightly with tiredness, “I’d rather change into actual sleep clothes.” And it’s that which reminds Shouto that, oh yeah, he’s been wearing a button-up this entire time, which is rumpled and looks entirely inappropriate. Izuku doesn’t seem to mind at all, what with the way his clothes are similarly messed up.
Izuku takes a moment to untangle their legs as he gets up slowly. Almost as soon as he stands, his shirt is gone and his pants are riding low. Shouto lets himself admire Izuku for a moment; the way he moves, so effortlessly graceful in his steps. Shouto is sure Izuku would be a wonderful dancer or gymnast, were he not a hero student.
He also admires the muscle that adorns Izuku, a far cry from the semi-scrawny boy he had met on their first day last year. What had once been thin muscles and barely-there abs were now full and strong, and Shouto could have looked at them for hours. (he had, actually. Not that he would admit it to anyone other than Izuku.)
But Izuku turns and looks at him expectantly and amusedly, and Shouto feels no shame in being caught staring. Really, modesty had no room between them any more. Dim light from the street lamps outside the window illuminate the space between them as they both change, stealing glances at one another between pulling on their clothes.
It goes unspoken that Shouto should wear something of Izuku’s- he wasn’t going to go and raid poor Inko’s closet when the woman was away for the evening, and there was nothing to speak of for Izuku’s father. He silences his phone as he searches Izuku’s dresser for clothes, and does not look at the messages or listen to the voicemails his father and sister left him.
Izuku doesn’t even pretend to be apologetic that none of his shirts fit Shouto. In the end, all he’d found was a pair of sweatpants that Inko had bought for Izuku that were two sizes too big. It’s a wonderfully convenient coincidence, but Shouto doesn’t mind at all. They fit him almost perfectly.
When they climb back into bed, they lie back down like they had been before. Izuku fits atop Shouto like he was meant to be there all of his life. Shouto would have believed it too, with how easily Izuku had slotted himself into his life.
A warm hand finds its way into Izuku’s messy curls, just as calloused ones find their way to Shouto’s chest. Izuku’s fingers lazily draw patterns on Shouto’s bare skin, and Shouto’s fingers rub gentle circles into Izuku’s scalp. It is terribly domestic, and Shouto cannot bring himself to feel anything other than adoration at it.
Then there are impossibly soft lips against Shouto’s, and he kisses back without a thought. This time it is his hand that rests against Izuku’s cheek, and everything feels right in that moment.
The kiss is soft and slow, nothing like the desperate kisses they shared in the secrecy of broom closets and dorm rooms. They were tired, but god were they in love. Shouto thought he could melt into Izuku and stay there forever and not ever complain about it. He could wax poetic about just the way Izuku existed.
And then the lips against his are gone, but Shouto is satisfied. A smile pulls against his lips and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Izuku’s mouth. Izuku laughs quietly at that, but doesn’t retaliate.
No, instead he rests his cheek against Shouto’s shoulder, and his nose sits just against the tender skin of his neck. Each warm puff of breath tickles Shouto’s neck, and he feels like melting all over again.
Shouto rests his chin atop Izuku’s head, and his arms around his torso. They are warm and content, and as they both fall asleep to the rain falling in downtown Musutafu, Shouto cannot help but feel that all is right in the world.