Work Text:
Todoroki Shoto was a simple man with simple desires. Clean sheets. The sound of waves on pebbles. Cloudy days. Early morning walks. Wait. Now he was beginning to sound like a contestant on the dating show Uraraka had roped him into watching with Midoriya last week. However, Shoto lived for the simple pleasures of life. Midoriya running into a pole while writing in his notebook. Making his father’s blood pressure rise—no, well, yes, but those things alone didn’t sum him up, really, and Shoto liked to think that he enjoyed spite like a fine seasoning these days rather than living for it.
But Shoto couldn’t deny that he was remarkably easy to please in any capacity. So, if he were to boil himself down to two essential components, then it would be this: Cold Soba. And conspiracy theories. One of which he was enjoying now, slurping soba down at a corner table of his favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he’d only discovered because he’d been thrown through the wall of the neighboring laundromat last year during his final work study.
It was wedged between the aforementioned laundromat and a tiny flower shop run by the angriest old lady he’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. The restaurant itself was dimly lit with warm red walls and a bigger room than one might expect from the outside, and it may or may not be a front for one of the smaller yakuza groups in the area; but it would be a crime within itself to shut this place down, so Shoto didn’t question it. Besides, he hadn’t seen any evidence of wrongdoing–just an odd feeling between his shoulder blades when he made eye contact with the oddly buff cook through the kitchen window.
Now, there was another thing Shoto had been informed about himself since he had actually gotten to make friends. He was, according to Uraraka, Midoriya and Ida, “food aggressive.” Once he’d gotten over his confusion about the term (he’d never had any pets, thanks Dad, and the only wild animal he consistently dealt with was his father, again, thanks Dad), he’d not really been able to deny the simple truth. Because it was this: Todoroki Shoto could, would, and had (technically) committed crimes for his favorite meals. He hoarded places to eat like a dragon. Which was why it was a big deal that Midoriya was joining him tonight.
Or at least he was supposed to have joined Shoto twenty-seven minutes ago. Not that Shoto was counting. And he knew Midoriya had been just as excited as he was to catch up–they’d all scattered after graduation to enjoy a few golden weeks, stealing back the last of their childhoods before beginning to accept the mountains of job offers that had flooded Class 3-A, now famous after the events of the past three years.
Shoto himself had spent the last month in an onsen town with his mother and siblings, for the first time in his life enjoying the feeling of being spoiled as the youngest child. His mother had been eager to make up for lost time, and, frankly, Shoto had delighted in making jokes about Natsuo being the middle child while Fuyumi clucked disapprovingly, looking happier than he could remember seeing her.
Endeavor had joined them for a week–the only time he could carve out with how much rebuilding was required after the damage All For One and the league wrought. Shoto was grateful for that. He’d give it to the old man, he was trying–therapy, couples therapy, you name it. But it would be a long time, if ever, before Shoto could consider himself truly comfortable around his father.
He checked his phone. No texts from Midoriya, which was either a very good or a very bad thing and the world was ending again. Then again, Midoriya would probably overcome his phone-call induced anxiety and just call Shoto if that were the case. Probably. The thought made him smile. It still baffled him how Deku , the newly hailed Symbol of Hope, wielder of One For All, and Shoto’s own personal hero would inevitably be defeated by having to call the pizza parlor. Every time.
It was…well…if Shoto was being entirely honest with himself, which he only liked to do in small doses when it came to Midoriya, then he would say that he found it absolutely adorable, and he would gladly shoulder the burden of ordering pizza for Japan’s Symbol of Hope if it meant he got to spend more time around Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya was full of contradictions–gentle to a fault when it came to himself, but fiercely protective of quite literally anyone else. And Midoriya still looked at him and everyone around them like they hung the stars, somehow unaware that he was the moon itself. He still cried at the drop of a hat, one time literally, though to be fair it had been a very nice hat. Shoto wore it whenever he got the chance, assuring Izuku that he didn’t mind the small stain on the side of the beanie.
Yikes, he was getting dangerously close to overdosing on his honest introspection. He really needed to stop watching that dating show. I’m Todoroki Shoto. I like long walks while contemplating how best to make my father’s tea lukewarm without him noticing, have lost count of how many people tried to kill me before I turned eighteen, and I prefer green hair, greener eyes, and a smile that makes me feel like I don’t have to be anyone except Shoto. Nope. Time to stop. No more honesty for the day.
He went back to slurping his soba. It was criminally delicious. His wandering eyes found that of the cook’s, the man’s eyes narrowing in displeasure as they bore into Shoto’s. Wordlessly, Shoto lifted his bowl in a small salute. Another tense moment passed before the cook turned away abruptly, disappearing deeper into the kitchen. Several moments later he was outfitted with three more bowls of deliciously chilled noodles for his sauce.
The bell jingled, announcing the arrival of some poor soul who had fortunately wandered out of the rain and into slightly sketchy soba paradise. Shoto looked up hopefully, his heart jolting a little as he spotted soft looking forest green hair. Finally. He leaned around the corner of his booth, opening his mouth to call out to Midoriya. The words died in his throat.
A tall, gaunt man was helping a short, slightly plump woman with soft green hair in a loose bun out of a coat. A blonde man with piercing blue eyes who was, by all rights, far too tall for his skinny frame. The woman covered her mouth with her fingers to smother a light, musical laugh that Shoto was intimately familiar with by this point–Izuku laughed the exact same way. All Might put an arm around Midoriya Inko’s shoulders almost sheepishly, gently guiding her to a booth directly behind Shoto’s.
Holy shit. He retreated to the corner of his booth, but the couple seemed too absorbed in themselves to notice him as they passed.
Shoto’s mind rapidly kicked into overdrive, a baffled sense of triumph rushing through his veins. He hadn’t brought up his theory that All Might was Midoriya’s dad for years–he’d been serious about it when they were first years. It made perfect sense then with the stupid amount of similarity between All Might and Midoriya’s quirks, and how All Might looked at Midoriya like he was carrying his hopes and dreams, even back then. When he’d first confronted Midoriya before their match, Shoto had thought he might have found someone who would finally understand the pressure he lived with.
But in light of Midoriya’s confession to the class just before their second year, and learning how exactly he’d come by One For All, Shoto had to begrudgingly concede that it also made perfect sense. He’d let the subject drop, only chiming in when Uraraka brought it up to watch Midoriya squirm and he wanted in on the fun. Honestly these days he only staunchly argued for his pet theory for appearances sake.
But this.
Shoto was not fifteen anymore. He was not a lonely boy with no friends and unsupervised access to the internet at 2am. He was a nineteen year old pro hero with unsupervised access to the internet at all hours of the day, and far more information than he’d been privy to previously. Which meant that his theories were far more developed. He had logical conclusions before, strong conjecture…but this was evidence . Evidence of his most cherished theory that was currently debating what to order behind him.
It made so much sense, how could he have forgotten?
All Might touched Midoriya Inko with a familiarity that definitely reached beyond friendship, and he hadn’t missed the pleased blush that had crossed Midoriya-san’s face as they’d passed his table. That blush was a Midoriya signature–a dead giveaway when they felt loved and didn’t know what to do about it. Midoriya mentioned that his father worked overseas. All Might spent time overseas, maybe to escape a broken heart? All Might gave Midoriya One For All after he’d tried to save Bakugo from the sludge villain, but what was All Might doing in that neighborhood in the first place when he didn’t operate in that area? Was he looking for someone? Someone like his long lost flame? Izuku was quirkless…Izuku was quirkless and that was almost unheard of in their generation. Midoriya had confessed to him sometime before that All Might was quirkless before receiving One For All too. Quirks typically ran in families. So did the lack thereof.
“Todoroki-kun, I’m sorry I’m late! Mom was going out tonight and couldn’t choose what to wear–what are you muttering about?” Shoto jolted out of his thoughts to find himself staring at a pair of wide green eyes, sparkling with amusement as Midoriya Izuku plopped down across from him, brushing some raindrops out of his hair. He didn’t seem to notice the couple in the booth behind, separated by a thin paper screen.
Shoto blinked, his runaway train of thoughts grinding to a halt for a second. He knew Midoriya. He was a terrible liar, and given the exact shade of magenta he turned whenever someone brought up the fact that All Might was basically his dad, Shoto could say beyond all certainty that he didn’t know . He didn’t know that All Might was rekindling an old flame approximately three feet behind Shoto’s head. Now Shoto took a lot of joy in sharing his theories–whether or not they were well-founded, he always got a small spark of satisfaction watching people’s reactions. It was one of the reasons he got along so well with Hawks, who begged Shoto to share his latest theories when he got drunk, laughing uproariously and adding a few of his own. But this…he couldn’t do this to Izuku. Not if he didn’t know. That wasn’t his to share.
“Oh. I was just thinking that I should order more noodles.” Midoriya eyed the two remaining bowls of noodles sitting in front of Shoto, clearly debating if it would be rude to point out the fact that they were untouched.
“Right…you do like your soba, Todoroki.” Success. Midoriya wasn’t going to question it further, and Shoto pushed a bowl of noodles across to him, glancing up to find the cook once more glowering out at the patrons from the kitchen. He caught Shoto’s eyes again, and Shoto inclined his head toward Midoriya. After another long moment the cook gave a sharp nod, disappearing to presumably bring Midoriya his own sauce. If he recognized Deku, then he gave no indication of it, or he just did not care, which was probably more likely. That was another reason Shoto had chosen this spot–they could relax without most of the gawking that came at them in other spaces.
“How’s setting up the agency going?” Todoroki had chosen to accept a job with Hawks out of school. While he had plenty of experience fighting villains, he had less having to…well…deal with normal laws while being a hero, and he’d wanted to see what that was like before striking out on his own. Midoriya had opted to join forces with Uraraka and Ida to start their own agency.
“It’s going great! I mean we’ve had some bumps here and there, and just yesterday Uraraka accidentally got Ida’s desk stuck to the ceiling!” Midoriya dove into an amusing story of how exactly Uraraka had managed to get Ida’s desk, then somehow Ida himself stuck to the ceiling, apparently laughing so hard that she’d been unable to let them down for fifteen minutes.
Ten minutes into the first story Midoriya went down a rabbit hole of how combining Uraraka and Ida’s quirks was the perfect match up for removing civilians from disaster zones safely, his words rapidly becoming less and less coherent. A small smile tugged at Shoto’s lips as he listened idly, enjoying the full feeling of having eaten his weight in soba and the musical quality of Midoriya’s voice when he went off on one of his tangents. One of Midoriya’s wild gestures narrowly missed Shoto’s ear, and he rested his chin on his fist, leaning slightly to the right to avoid the danger zone as Midoriya ran out of steam, tapering off with a sheepish chuckle.
“B-but, I’m just glad people are starting to relax enough that they’ll call us again. They’re smiling more.”
You smile more now, too. The thought struck Shoto with sudden clarity, bittersweet in its relief. Midoriya had always smiled when he led civilians and heroes alike, even when it looked like they may lose against Shigaraki’s onslaught. But it was a weapon then–defiant and deadly, beautiful in its own right, but painful for those who’d seen him before. The slightly embarrassed grin across from him held none of the fear they’d all grown far too used to bearing. Now, it felt like Midoriya wasn’t smiling because he had too—he was smiling because he wanted to.
“They are. I think I get it now. What Hawks meant when he said he wanted a world that didn’t need heroes anymore.” Midoriya nodded, gratefully accepting a bowl of dipping sauce from the middle aged waitress who seemed to pride herself in never speaking a single word to any patron. Shoto liked to think the lack of service was part of the charm.
“How is it, working with Hawks?”
“He’s still trying to convince me he migrates every winter.” Midoriya’s bright laugh filtered through the shop.
“That…that sounds about right.” A comfortable silence fell as they tucked into their noodles. Shoto noted with approval that Midoriya seemed to be properly enjoying the food, so bringing him into one of Shoto’s sacred spaces had not been a mistake.
“Toshinori…what is this?” Midoriya froze mid slurp, eyes locking onto Shoto with something remarkably akin to panic.
Shoto blinked back, chopsticks hovering over his noodle bowl. He’d forgotten who was behind them. Midoriya seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion, shock flashing across his face.
“I didn’t…when Mom said…ohmygosh I didn’t realize it would be here! ” He was muttering so quickly that even Shoto, with his years of practice, could barely pick it out.
“I used to think that being a hero was all that I was. I lived for it, and once I couldn’t be that…I felt lost. I spent so long ensuring others’ happiness that I didn’t know what it looked like for me beyond hero work. Then I met Izuku, and teaching him has been the greatest honor of my life.” Midoriya was frozen, steadily turning red, a mortified look on his face as All Might’s voice drifted from the other booth.
“And…and getting to know you has taught me about what joy can look like outside of being All Might. You’ve…Inko you’ve helped me not just rediscover who Yagi Toshinori is, but you’ve taught me to like him, too. The world is safe with the kids. I trust them to rebuild it into something far better than we had before. And I…I want to build a life with you. You’re my hero and my love, and I would be honored if you would let me stand by your side. Inko, will you marry me?”
Sniffles were coming from both behind Shoto’s head and in front of him. He could see Midoriya’s eyes watering, so he could only assume the other set of sniffs was coming from the second Midoriya.
“Oh Toshinori, yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” Shoto glanced about the restaurant–nobody else was close enough to be paying much attention. The cook was wiping away a tear in the kitchen window, scowling at Shoto and disappearing from view again when their eyes met.
He looked back at Midoriya, who was now beginning to smile, looking slightly dazed, tears dripping down his nose. His voice was soft and slow, as if he struggled to find the right words for once.
“Y-you don’t have to look worried, Shoto.” Shoto blinked in surprise, once again unsure how Midoriya always managed to see past his carefully constructed poker face. “Toshinori asked me for permission…I just…hearing it makes me happy. They’ve both worked so hard…I’m just so glad.”
Shoto let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, smiling back now. If Midoriya was happy, then Shoto could properly relax and bask in the warm happiness that now washed over him. Midoriya-san was one of the kindest people he’d ever met, and he both respected and liked All Might. Thinking about them as a couple…it worked, oddly enough.
You’ve helped me not just rediscover who Yagi Toshinori is, but you’ve taught me to like him, too.
It’s your power, isn’t it?
Something clicked.
Midoriya looked at him, a wry spark of humor lighting up his eyes. “Todoroki-kun, I guess have something to tell you–”
“Will you go on a date with me?”
“--All Might’s going to be my dad…W-what?” Midoriya spluttered, meaningless syllables tumbling out of him as he flushed dark crimson…no, burgundy. Shoto tried to ignore the pounding in his chest, his anxiety mounting with every incoherent half-word that came out of Midoriya’s mouth. This was a terrible idea. He was never being honest with himself again. Maybe he could pass it off as a joke? Haha, All Might proposed to your Mom, is probably your biological father and why don’t we all just get together? Funny, right? Wait..he probably still shouldn’t tell Midoriya about the revised All Might Is Your Dad theory.
“Todoroki…S-Shoto?” The sound of his name brought Shoto abruptly back out of his spiraling thoughts to find Midoriya, still burgundy, staring at him with concern.
“What?”
“I’d like that. To go on a date with you.” Midoriya’s soft voice was steady, a small smile playing about his lips. Shoto couldn’t help it. He smiled back.
“I’m going to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.” Midoriya jumped at All Might’s voice, looking around for a second like he was searching for a place to hide. All Might made it three steps past their table before he froze, slowly turning around to meet the gaze of an equally petrified Midoriya. “I–Izuku, my boy!”
“A–All Might!”
“Congratulations.” Shoto slurped his soba to hide his smile as All Might blushed like a school boy.
All Might jumped. “Well, thank you very much young Todoroki!”
“Izuku? Shoto?” Midoriya-san peaked around the edge of the booth, her round eyes lighting up warmly at the sight of them. “Oh, Izuku, did you finally get the courage to ask Todoroki-kun on a date? I’m so happy for the two of you!” Shoto choked on his soba as she stood, bustling to stand next to All Might, a delicate ring flashing on her finger.
“M-mom you can’t just say that–” All Might burst into laughter, clapping an arm onto Midoriya’s shoulder.
“It looks like we’ve all got a reason to celebrate then! Miyazawa-san, could you bring us a round of the good sake!” The cook, who had once more been sulking at the kitchen window gave a single nod and slouched out of view. All Might turned back to Shoto and Midoriya. “This place has been one of my favorites since I was a student. You know, back in the day it used to be a yakuza front before Miyazawa-san decided to go legitimate!”
“I knew it.”