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Midoriya Izuku was a notorious overthinker.
He knew this, had known this, for many years. Because he’d thought about it. Because he thought about everything at least fourteen different times. Because…
Yeah…
But since he had known about his overthinking tendencies for many years, Midoriya Izuku had figured out a coping mechanism. It was much simpler than what he used to do—didn’t involve hitting his head against the sink in agony, at least. Though it wasn’t kinder by much.
“You did what?”
No, not much kinder at all. In fact, Katsuki’s howling laughter nearly split Izuku’s eardrums in half, and the force with which he smacked his back in jubilation would’ve knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t bulked up like a bull on steroids this past year.
Still, he murmured: “I threw my notepad at his head.”
“You threw your notepad at his head!” Katsuki echoed, with more volume and audacious joy than Izuku would have preferred. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms when his friend wiped a fake tear from his eye and snorted: “Priceless. God, you’re such a nerd, nerd.”
“Fuck you,” Izuku muttered, because Katsuki wouldn’t want him to speak to him any differently even if he was being a horrendous pest. He’d want to know it—would take great pride in pissing Izuku off so much that he’d resorted to cussing. Izuku had first noticed this when they were twelve, he had kept it in mind ever since. And while Katsuki was being a horrendous pest, he was also— unfortunately—Izuku’s best friend and he did— miraculously—love him.
No, miraculous didn’t quite cover it, didn’t do their journey to this point in their relationship justice. In fact, if Izuku were to really think about it—
“Oi! No spacing out!”
Right. Coping mechanism. This really was one of Katsuki’s greatest qualities as the devil on Izuku’s shoulder—his uncanny ability to kick him under the ass. It was how he showed he cared. It was how Izuku liked him best.
“Right,” he said, head back in the game. “Sorry, Kacchan.”
“And don’t apologize to me, fuckwad. That’s gross!”
So perhaps Katsuki would never quite admit that he cared. Izuku didn’t mind that much either. It was clear that Katsuki loved him, even if he did act like a child about it sometimes. Luckily for both of them, Izuku had long shed the nervous cloak he used to wear around him.
“Well maybe if you’d done your job—”
“Ha—?! It’s not my job to make sure you don’t do something stupid!”
“You signed a contract!”
“When we were eight!”
Izuku leveled him with a glare so venomous it would have sent anyone else running. Unfortunately, Katsuki wasn’t anyone else and Izuku would never purposely try to frighten anyone but him. Fortunately, however, Izuku knew exactly how to make Bakugou Katsuki do his bidding.
He dropped the glare, adopted a pout instead, let his eyes do the talking.
“Fucking—” Katsuki groaned, huffed an angry breath like he couldn’t quite believed what he was about to say, and averted his gaze. “Fine. Just—stop looking at me like that, jesus.”
Izuku, satisfied to have his hypothesis proven once again, complied.
“Thank you, Kacchan,” he said, just a tinge of smugness in his voice. Katsuki, ears poised like a bat’s, detected it anyway.
He bristled. Murmured. “Shut up.” But didn’t move to reinforce the command. Izuku knew that meant he’d won. He watched, amused, as Katsuki tried to form a sentence without hurling.
“Can’t you just… tell him you—god— like him, or something?” While successful in the not-hurling department, Katsuki did shudder a little. “You’ve never shut up before. Why the fuck start now?”
Izuku blinked, then blinked again, then: “What?! Are you out of your mind? I can’t just—with him! When he’s so—!”
His rambling was cut off by the sting of his cheek, the smarting of his flesh and the smell of something burning. It didn’t hurt, per say, but it was just uncomfortable enough to bring Izuku back to reality. Of course, that had been exactly what Katsuki intended.
“Oh my god, get it together!” he yelled. “Yes he’s kind, and yes he’s handsome from certain angles, but he isn’t everything! You’re Midoriya Izuku, for fucks sake, and if that isn’t enough for him then that’s his loss!”
Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya Izuku had started to cry. Soft sniffles and heavy rainfall. Bakugou Katsuki did not like the rain. He pulled it in for a hug anyway.
“Shh,” he hushed, broad hand stroking down Izuku’s back. “You’re gonna wake up the whole building with your slobbering.”
Izuku laughed, wet against Katsuki’s sweater. “Except Todoroki.”
Katsuki snorted too. “Yeah, except Todoroki. But I guess he’s the only one you really care about, isn’t he?”
Izuku glared at him, still snug between his arms. He supposed that lessened the impact significantly. He’d have to write that down somewhere. As it stood, Katsuki was not deterred.
“Fucking—Prince Charming, sleeping soundly in his bed just waiting for some All Might impersonator to declare his undying love for him— oof.”
“Shut up, Kacchan. It’s not—”
Katsuki raised a brow. “No?”
And Izuku felt all the fight leave him, replaced instead by reluctant acceptance. “Ugh!”
He watched the gears turn in Katsuki’s head as he fought a mental battle he could not come out on top of. Saw him sneer, roll his eyes again, and finally spit out the conclusion of the fight. Izuku listened carefully, felt hope bloom in his chest, then sighed when he realized what Katsuki’s plan entailed.
It was going to be a rough couple of weeks.
Contrary to popular belief, Todoroki Shouto was not stupid.
Oblivious, yes. Dumb, no. He wouldn’t have scored so high on his midterms if he was. As such, he knew he wasn’t the ugliest duckling in the nest, even when he was stained with anger and fear and the grief of a life that was never his to live. Even when he looked in the mirror and didn’t quite understand what others saw that he did not. Even when he wanted to scream that there was more to him than just his face.
Even when no one listened to his pleas.
Still, Todoroki Shouto was not stupid. It was just that he didn’t mind being labeled as such. Didn’t mind being blemished when he was meant to be perfection—divine creation. He’d rather people think he was stupid than flawless, rather dumb than divine. And if that enamored the crowds even more, well then at least they wouldn’t look at his skin and think about the hand that scarred it.
But the thing was, he was not stupid.
And so when Midoriya started to forgo his coat on their daily walks outside, even when the temperature had only started to drop, he knew that something was up. But while Shouto wasn’t stupid, he was cautious, and he would never jump to conclusions when he had barely learned to stand.
“Midoriya,” he said, sudden like a pinprick. “Are you cold?”
Midoriya’s teeth were clattering, he lied through them anyway. “Wha—? No! Nope, I’m not cold at all. I’m—training! Is all. Did you know—”
Shouto hummed, trying to placate when he was not convinced at all, and warmed his side for Midoriya to lean into.
“It’s important to regulate your temperature,” he said, because if anyone knew that it was him. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Not when I’m here to stop it. Not when my fire can finally be useful.
Midoriya’s rambling was effectively cut off, as was Shouto’s breathing when he saw the way his eyes softened. “Oh,” the boy said, and smiled softly. “Thank you, Todoroki. That’s—that’s nice.”
Shouto hummed again, then nodded—satisfied. But something in his chest urged him to delve deeper anyway. Go farther. Try harder to get Midoriya to smile like that again.
And while he didn’t quite understand why he felt something flutter in his stomach, he knew it had nothing to do with his lunch. He knew it had everything to do with a boy who saw beyond the surface, no matter who he looked at. A hero to all, a hero to him.
So Shouto found his courage, as he had done a million times before, and slid his fingers into his friend’s. Safe. Comfortable.
Warm.
The plan was coming along.
And while Izuku felt horrible about not being honest when Todoroki had only ever been pure-hearted, he could not say he regretted it when it had resulted in this: in Todoroki Shouto holding his hand like it would freeze if he let go.
It had started innocently enough, just a way to keep him close—not that Izuku had really had a choice in the matter. Katsuki was the one that hid his coat before his “date with halfie”, which Izuku had explained wasn’t a date, thank you very much. Friends went on walks. Together. Just the two of them. Izuku did that all the time! Granted, he didn’t think about holding his other friends’ hands every hour of the day, but that wasn’t the point!
It wasn’t like Izuku had had the courage to initiate anything in the first place—it was Todoroki who’d activated his quirk, Todoroki who’d looked at him in that contemplative way he looked at everything he encountered, Todoroki who’d reached out and taken Izuku’s hand in his.
Izuku had been innocent then.
He didn’t feel so innocent now.
Because, without knowing when or where it had escalated, he was standing in the common room kitchen—unable to hold a knife because Todoroki was still holding his hand.
“I don’t want you to get cold again,” he’d said, and Izuku had bitten down the urge to reply with “As long as you’re touching me I won’t ever get cold again” or something else embarrassing that he’d lie awake from late at night.
Instead, he’d nodded, smiled, squeezed Todoroki’s hand because apparently he didn’t value his sanity all that much. And now he was here, six days later, with Todoroki holding what little remained of his sanity in the palm of his hand.
And Izuku couldn’t say he hated it.
Sure, it was a little impractical to be dragged wherever Todoroki went, but he liked wherever Todoroki went—he liked Todoroki, period—and all this moving around together meant he’d only managed to learn more about the man.
Case in point:
“Guys, has anyone seen the sugar tin?”
Izuku felt more than saw Todoroki perk up at his voice, arms flexing just barely. When he did eventually look to his right, he found Todoroki’s eyes already stuck on his face, mouth slightly agape, and furrow between his brow. Awed, it seemed. Thinking, perhaps.
“I thought you didn’t like sugar in your tea,” Todoroki stated finally, soft so only Izuku could hear, and Izuku huffed a laugh.
“I don’t. But you like it, don’t you?” He swore he saw Todoroki’s eyes sparkle when he nodded, then smiled widely in return. “Well then I’d like to find the tin.”
It was like the other day:
“Do you see them?”
Izuku looked up to where Todoroki was playing with his hair, cheeks flushed with more than just the warmth coming from his hand. He’d almost dozed off like this, and was having trouble coming back to the land of the living when he was so comfortable where he was.
“Who?” he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Todoroki didn’t seem to see it. Instead, he jerked his head over to the corner of the room, where Jirou and Kaminari were slumped together on the couch, earbuds shared and pinkies linked.
“Them,” he repeated, fondness in his voice when he elaborated. “Momo and I have a bet going on. It looks like she’s winning.”
And Izuku could do nothing but huff a laugh. Todoroki Shouto, a gossip, smiling at the happiness of his classmates. “Hm, they look good together,” Izuku remembered to say, and committed the sight to memory.
But now, standing in the common room kitchen, all eyes had turned to him. Him and Todoroki. Holding hands like they had all week. And Izuku wished they didn’t look so predatory.
In fact:
“Guys? Sugar tin?”
His classmates seemed to jolt from that, but their predatory smiles only grew wider with mirth.
“I don’t know, bro—” Kirishima answered, and Kaminari cut him off. Or maybe finished his thought. Izuku could never tell with those two. Either way: “It looks like you have enough sweetness on your right, if you know what I mean.”
Jirou punched him in the arm, Sero started cackling, Izuku really wished his other friends were there.
“No, no—”
Izuku wished he could rescind that plea.
“—the way he said it was gross,” Bakugou Katsuki was a horrible man, with a smile more dangerous than the others’ combined. “But he’s right. You two have been disgustingly close lately.”
“Disgusting?”
Todoroki looked puzzled, like he couldn’t understand why anyone would question his and Izuku’s actions. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to want to hold your friend’s hand.
“I guess we are really close…” Izuku mumbled, but Todoroki cut him off before he could damn himself to hell.
“I like being close to you, Midoriya,” he said. No hesitation. No room for debate. Just the raw, honest truth. Simple. Clear. Warm, warm, warm.
Izuku gulped, had to find his courage somehow even when he apparently didn’t need it. When this came as easy as breathing. When he hadn’t meant for the plan to go like this, to skip all the steps and land straight on the goal, but he couldn’t complain when it led to this. When it led to Todoroki Shouto holding his hand like it was the most precious thing in the world, and holding his gaze like it held the secrets of the universe.
“You do?” he asked, question redundant, and Todoroki nodded, sure. “Well then—I like being close to you too.”
Todoroki smiled and the world came to a stop. Then he nodded again, more abashed this time, and it jolted forward again. Izuku held it in the palm of his hand, warm from the inside out, and knew.
He would never let it go.
And this was enough for now, for them, clearer than what they really needed it to be. Ready to let nature take its course. And if nature had to be helped along a little… well then no one had to know.