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pancakes and salted almonds

Summary:

If Toshinori had to choose his favorite American food, it would be pancakes. He likes salted almonds on top. The salty crunch along with the soft texture of the pancakes is heavenly. But with his stomach unable to digest anything other than nutrition pills and protein shakes, his favorite American food is nothing but a distant memory.

What he wouldn’t do to get a taste of the fluffy goodness once more. 

(or, a stubborn sucessor wants to give his mentor his favorite american food)

Notes:

ahjbvdjfhs so cute literally gushing at this

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

If Toshinori had to choose his favorite American food, it would be pancakes. 

Strange things they are—big and chunky with unhealthy amounts of syrup on top. During his stay abroad, he found some fancied blueberries or chocolate chips to go along with them. Toshinori himself likes salted almonds on top. The salty crunch along with the soft texture of the pancakes is heavenly.

But with his stomach unable to digest anything other than nutrition pills and protein shakes, his favorite American food is nothing but a distant memory. It hurts to be reminded of his greatest failure in such tiny things. 

He remembers being so frustrated one day he’d gone to a local diner and made a custom order for pancakes the way he liked them and puking nonstop into his toilet afterward. 

What he wouldn’t do to get a taste of the fluffy goodness once more. 

He’s with Young Midoriya on a grocery run for his class. They’d run out of pancake batter earlier, so Toshinori offered to go out and buy some. To his surprise, Izuku volunteered, avoiding Toshinori’s questioning gaze with flushed cheeks.

They’re in the pancake aisle, perusing through the different options. “Young Midoriya, it doesn’t matter which brand we buy, does it?” he asks after seeing the boy place down yet another perfectly good box.

Izuku puffs out his cheeks. “I’m looking for a special one,” he says. “But it’s not here—oh!” Izuku rushes over and picks out a box of pancake batter. He holds it above his head, smiling brightly at Toshinori. “I found it! I found it!”

Toshinori is confused as to why it needed to be that specific brand, but nonetheless, he indulges in his boy’s cheer. “That’s good, my boy. Now let’s head to the checkout, shall we?”

 

Izuku knows All Might loves pancakes. Anyone who’s friends with him knows the same. That’s why Izuku feels saddened whenever he remembers the man can’t stomach them anymore.

A week ago, All Might gave Izuku a gift card for a local katsudon restaurant. “It’s your favorite food, my boy!” he’d said. How unfair was it that Izuku got to enjoy his favorite food, but All Might couldn’t?

So he’d harnessed his powers of research and pure determination to find a brand of pancake batter he could eat and digest. For the longest time, there were no results, nothing of the sort. Then Izuku came across an obscure link to a page that advertised a pancake batter people with impaired digestive systems could eat.

It was too good to be true, so Izuku looked for reviews of this product. To his surprise, they were all praising it, sharing their success stories. Still, they might be bots, so Izuku not-so-legally hacked their IP addresses to track down these reviewers for himself. 

(Principal Nezu is rubbing off on him!)

One address led him to the house of an old lady who was missing part of her intestines from an operation. Izuku asked if he could survey her pantry for mold, an excuse to check if she really had the product. 

She did. It was almost empty too. 

“Ma’am, do you eat these?” He’d asked, trying not to get his hopes up in case she had grandkids.

She nodded. “Only pancake batter I’m able to eat without throwing up half my guts. Why, does it have mold?” She had looked genuinely distressed at that, so Izuku was quick to comfort her. 

“No, no, it just took me by surprise, that’s all,” he had said, and after giving her a fake clean bill, he practically dashed back to UA before Aizawa-sensei noticed he was gone. After confirming they were legit, Izuku seized the first opportunity to buy them in the stores for All Might. 

And now that they’re back, Izuku is going to make some for All Might.

(Or, ask All Might to make them, since Izuku is a disaster in the kitchen.)

“All Might!” Izuku chirps, catching his mentor’s attention. “Let’s make pancakes!”

 

“All Might, let’s make pancakes!” Izuku yells, catching Toshinori off guard. Since when was his successor interested in American delicacies? Especially one that happened to be his favorite?

“Sure, my boy.” Toshinori is itching with excitement to make pancakes for the first time in years, but a tang of disappointment lingers under the surface at not being able to stomach them. Still, if he can share his passion with Izuku, it doesn’t matter.

Izuku brings out a large bowl to make the batter in. Although his boy is a mess in the kitchen, making the batter is harmless. “I find pancakes are better when they’re thicker, so add more batter than water.”

“Like this?” Izuku dumps half of the batter inside, turning their almost-perfect mix into a coalesce of powder and hardened dough. Toshinori can’t help but laugh as Izuku blinks and sneezes from the powder on his nose.

He manages to salvage the batter and starts pouring them onto the hot griddle, watching them rise into the fluffy goodness Toshinori so deeply craves. 

(He bans Izuku from this kitchen for this part.)

Soon, all the pancakes are done. 

“Thanks, All Might, you’re the best!” Izuku exclaims. Toshinori tries not to feel jealous when Izuku gulps down his pancake, syrup staining the corner of his mouth. 

After eating two, Izuku pauses. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asks, genuinely confused. Now Toshinori’s confused.

“My boy, you do remember I’m missing my stomach, right?”

“Yeah but, these pancakes you can eat. Did you not read the label?”

Toshinori’s heart swells; it pumps in his ears. There’s no way. But as he turns over the carton, he sees there is a way. Written across the bottom in bold red are the words “ Safe for impaired digestive systems”.

He tries not to cry, but Toshinori’s always been a crybaby deep down. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. Izuku smiles back too, softly giggling. “Thank you, my boy.” 

Izuku flushes, ducking his head. “It was no problem.”

Toshinori sets Izuku down, and for the first time in nine years, bites into a pancake. It’s just as soft and fluffy as he remembered. 

“Say my boy, do we have any almonds?”

Notes:

thanks for reading!!!!!!

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