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Izuku tasted blood on his tongue. Not for the first time, but for the first time in a while. The metallic taste hit him before the stinging pain did.
It was his fault for not blocking in time, a rookie mistake, but his attention was divided between the long-haired man with raised fists in front of him and the one sporting a bloodied lip and holding a backpack to his chest behind him.
One of those fists hit him on the side of the face, but instead of retaliating he glanced back at the trembling man. “Are you okay?”
“Eyes on me, Suit.”
Izuku glanced down at himself. Suit? Had the suit been a mistake after all? Sure, Kacchan had laughed when he’d first seen him in it, but Uraraka and Iida had told him it looked good, and he was a teacher now after all and needed to look the part, the way All Might had —
The suit jacked pulled tight at the seams as he raised his arm to block another punch to the face. His cheek throbbed from the last one.
“I don’t want to fight you,” he said.
The long-haired man grinned and spat, “Too bad.”
The other tugged at the back of Izuku’s jacket. “Stob,” he pleaded despite his busted lip. “You shouldn’t —”
Not like Izuku could walk away now if he wanted to. The long-haired attacker only had eyes for him anymore.
He kept the second man safely behind himself with one hand, using the other to catch the next punch thrown at his jaw. His hand closed around his assailant’s fist, squeezed his fingers together. He ignored the ache in his joints and the hot pulse in his face like he’d ignored every other injury he’d ever sustained — self-inflicted or not — and twisted the man’s arm to force him down on his knees.
“I told you —”
A rope around his neck cut off his words. Not a rope, he realized looking down through watering eyes. The man’s long hair coiled like snakes, and vines like class B’s Ibara’s wrapped themselves around Izuku’s arm and neck — seeping strength from the hand holding the man down and cutting off his breath, making his body buzz from head to toe.
Black spots danced in front of his eyes.
“That’s enough.”
He recognized the justified assertiveness in that voice despite his lightheadedness, and had fond memories tied into the crackle of ice that froze the man to the alleyway pavement still on his knees. His stocked breath came out in a white cloud and his hair let go out of shock. Frost covered the ends.
Izuku touched both hands to his bruised neck, gasping for air.
Before his vision cleared enough to see the Pro Hero he knew was there, officers rushed forward to put the long-haired man in handcuffs. One of them put a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, checking in.
“Sir, are you — Oh.” She pulled her hand back. Her eyes went wide. They darted across his face, the scar on his cheek, looked down at his plain black suit and — maybe the suit really was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have talked himself into it, should have just worn — “You’re Deku,” she said finally.
He smiled, hoping it looked true even though there were pained tears in his eyes. “Thank you for your help.”
She flustered. “Oh, no, it’s nothing.” Her colleague, holding the handcuffed man, had also stopped to stare. Even the man who’d tried to suffocate him suddenly stopped thrashing.
“I would have just left him unconscious!” he argued to the officers. “I wasn’t, like, going to kill him or anything, I swear!”
His pants were soaked below the knee. Warmth brushed Izuku’s skin from the fire that melted the ice.
He shook himself. Izuku shouldn’t have been their main concern. He turned to the man behind him, the hands wrapped around his backpack shaking. Blood pooled on his bottom lip. “This person should see a medic,” he said, knowing the officers would recognize the command and take it from there.
The man bowed his head, mumbled thank you’s again and again, and only when he walked away did Izuku finally let his shoulders drop, smile falling. His cheek throbbed and his left eye kept tearing up. His throat ached.
“He’s not the only one who could use a medic.”
“I’m okay,” he said on instinct, wincing because talking hurt, too.
The way Todoroki looked at him was exactly what Izuku expected when he turned around. Arms crossed and the set of his mouth unamused. Looking down on Izuku, because unfairly so he’d had another growth spurt in their final year of high school.
Izuku touched fingers gingerly to his cheek. Bruised, for sure, but probably no broken bones. Should get an ice pack for it though. And he’d definitely bit the inside of his cheek, might have hit a tooth loose. He spat a wad of red on the dirty floor by his feet.
“I don’t need a medic,” he insisted in a bruised voice. This much was nothing, after all.
Todoroki gave him a once-over, taking inventory. He stepped closer and lifted his right hand to Izuku’s face. The instant relief the cold of Todoroki’s knuckles brought to the swelling bruise made Izuku lean his cheek into it. Couldn’t help it. Sought it out.
“My place is just around the corner,” Todoroki said. “Let’s get you cleaned up there.”
And Izuku knew better than to argue.
He’d only visited Todoroki’s new home a handful of times before. Once to help him move in, carrying a bed and shelves and cardboard boxes that they later used for tables to have dinner on. Another time to get ready before a Pro Hero event that Izuku had been reluctant to attend, and looking back later he realized the reason Todoroki had asked him over was to strongarm him into going anyway. Usually they met in the city, for drinks with their friends, or at UA if Todoroki happened to be in the neighborhood.
It was a small apartment, cozy in the way that reminded Izuku of Todoroki’s old dorm room despite the lack of tatami. He knew that Todoroki was on good terms with the neighbors on either side — knew, too, that he didn’t have to settle for a busy apartment block like this on his Pro Hero salary, but that he’d chosen the place with his heart. Whatever that might have meant.
That it was close enough to Izuku’s that they could meet up in the middle and not worry about having to catch the last train home was a nice bonus.
In the entryway, Izuku took off his shoes and kept his eyes down, embarrassed and chastised, even when Todoroki handed him some guest slippers.
“Thanks.”
“No need.”
They were the first words exchanged since Todoroki handed the case over to his Sidekicks to see Izuku home, and their sound lingered in Izuku’s ears.
In the kitchen, Todoroki pulled an ice bag from one of the drawers, filled it up with his own ice, and went to press it against Izuku’s throbbing cheek.
Izuku stopped him, taking the bag from his hand. “I’ve got it.” When he smiled he felt the sting inside his mouth where his teeth had dug into his cheek. “Thank you, Todoroki.” He looked around. “The bathroom is…?”
Todoroki stared at him for a moment, then nodded to his left. “First door.”
Izuku considered locking himself inside. Not to be away from Todoroki himself but to be away from the concern, the worry, the way he couldn’t seem to stop looking at the bruises on Izuku’s neck poking out above the collar of his shirt. The skin was tender, flushed, and his throat still sore. He believed the man’s words, that he wouldn’t have killed him, but the struggle before he’d slowly lost consciousness had felt almost as bad.
He examined his face. His cheek was warm and red, but the skin around his left eye was bruised, purple. It stung when he touched the bone and touching it again, just to check, made tears spring to his eyes. His lip was split near the corner of his mouth. His jaw ached when he set his teeth together.
The man hadn’t even looked that strong. He’d been packing more muscle than Izuku had expected, evidently, when he’d jumped between the two in a dark and mostly quiet alleyway.
Of course that was where Todoroki would find him. As if it’d been built into them.
Todoroki knocked before he opened the bathroom door, even though this was his house and he could do whatever he wanted. Meeting Izuku’s eyes in the mirror, he leaned against the doorframe with his arm crossed over his chest.
“I heard back from the police. The man you were defending is already headed home. He only had a few scratches, and he’s not pressing charges.” He lifted his shoulders. “It seems he had an outstanding debt that that guy had come to collect. So.”
“So he will get away with trying to beat someone up in broad daylight.”
“He barely got a punch in before you showed up.”
“He would have done worse.”
Todoroki stepped into the bathroom. “Midoriya, that man was nothing but a bully.”
Izuku spat into the sink. Still a little pink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, bracing the other on the countertop. “Exactly.”
Todoroki sighed.
But Izuku wasn’t done yet. “And I didn’t do anything wrong! One, it was self-defense from the moment he punched me in the face, and two, well, no one’s going to suspect I used my Quirk.”
“Midoriya…”
“And even if I could, I’m licensed.”
“That’s not —”
“Don’t pity me, I’m fine .”
“You’re a liar.” Todoroki didn’t say it with any malice. Just a fact to be stated with a touch of desperation that made Izuku’s chest ache. “You’re allowed to be frustrated,” he said, “but not with me. Come on. I made some tea.” He took the ice bag and dropped it in Izuku’s hand. “And keep that iced.”
Back in the kitchen, Todoroki took two tea cups from a shelf of mismatched ones. Steam rose from the electric kettle as Izuku took a seat at the table, and the smell wafting off the cup placed in front of him pinched at a memory.
“Have I had this before?”
“Yaoyorozu brought it back from one of her missions. I think she used to make it for us, too.”
The longer Izuku thought about it, the more sure he was that she brewed liters of this once — at the end of their third year, when all of class A had been stressed with final exams.
Todoroki was the type to ask her what effects the tea had, and the type to remember it too.
He was trying to calm Izuku down.
But Izuku didn’t want to calm down. He wanted to feel blood pumping in his muscles the way it was making his cheek throb at regular intervals. He wanted to push back, but Todoroki wasn’t the right person to do that with. He’d just put up a wall of ice. Let Izuku push and push and freeze burns into his skin and never hit back.
“I should go,” Izuku said before he’d taken more than two sips. What would have happened if it’d been anyone else finding him in that fight? What if it’d been Kacchan instead? “Thanks for the help.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere —”
“Not to the gym?” Todoroki challenged. “Or extra training?” Before Izuku could move, he reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He lifted it to the light to reveal fading bruises and scratches littering his skin. “You’re not going to beat yourself up some more?”
If it’d been Kacchan, they’d be sparring right now.
“It’s not like that.” Izuku snatched his hand back. He covered it with the other, fingers feeling the rough skin of his knuckles and the smooth glide of years-old scars along the back. Scars that Todoroki knew all too well, that he was keeping his eyes on now. “I’m just staying fit.”
“By getting into alley brawls.”
Izuku stood, slamming his hands on the table. “You can’t blame me for that! I saw someone in trouble, so I moved. You would have done the same thing because it was the right thing to do! And don’t you want me to be — to be a hero? Don’t you want me to be me ?”
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Todoroki never shouted, but he had this certain tone of voice that had the same effect. It stopped Izuku in his tracks, kept him from arguing, because when he used that tone, he was at his limit. Izuku had pushed enough.
He lowered back into the chair. He kept the ice on his cheek a little while longer, then placed it gently on the table to pick up his teacup instead. He let the nostalgic smell calm him.
“I don’t hurt myself,” he muttered.
Todoroki watched him. “What else would you call it when you deliberately jump in front of someone’s fist? It’s not the first time, Midoriya. It’s a problem.”
Tears pricked his eyes. His throat hurt . “What else am I supposed to do?”
“Have you considered teaching?”
Izuku looked up and startled at the smile on Todoroki’s face — proud and secretive and, eventually, making Izuku blush.
“Shut up,” he said, hiding behind his tea.
“Or,” Todoroki said, “I order us some food and you tell me about your first years.”
Izuku somehow found his own smile, pulling at the cut corner of his mouth. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”
Maybe this was what Izuku missed. Conversation with his friends.
Don’t get him wrong, he missed hero work. He loved teaching, and even though it was all new and he was still finding his bearings, he knew he was going to love it for a long time. His first years kept him busy — and caused him to apologize profusely to Aizawa for what their class put him through.
But discussing teaching with other UA staff was just that, more work. He missed chatting with his classmates on the way to and from school about everything and nothing, missed how their class would sit together and agonize over homework or tests, or telling his friends about internships and hearing all about what they had gotten up to themselves.
And even this wasn’t perfect. Todoroki listened raptly while Izuku talked, but eventually everything he said began to feel inconsequential.
He rubbed the back of his head. “It’s not as exciting as anything you guys are doing, but —”
“That’s not true.”
They’d had their food in the living room, takeout containers pushed to one side of the table now they were done. Izuku stretched his legs out in front of him as he and Todoroki leaned back against the side of the couch. He fidgeted with the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, his jacket draped over the back behind him.
Todoroki continued, “It sounds exciting. You spent an hour just talking about their quirks.”
Izuku glanced at the clock. “I’m sorry —”
“No,” Todoroki said, laughing. “That’s not what I meant. I like hearing you talk about it, because I can tell you like it. Are they going to start working on ultimate moves soon?”
“Yes! And I’ve been writing down some ideas. I mean, I can’t wait to see what they come up with themselves, but just in case they need some help, then — What ?”
Todoroki was smiling again. He had his arm propped on the edge of the couch, and when he dropped his hand his fingers brushed Izuku’s curls. “See?” he said. “You’re excited.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Because Izuku’s fingers itched. Because his legs were restless. Because his body knew exactly what it meant to be pushed to its furthest, utmost limits, and it was desperate for anything to give him that same flood of adrenaline and endorphins. Working out only got him so much. As did sparring. He hadn’t even had much time for himself between preparing lessons plans and grading history tests, and making plans with Pro Hero friends was even more impossible.
So he kept his eyes peeled on his commute, and sometimes he jumped in front of a waiting fist.
“You need more?” Todoroki asked.
Izuku’s scars outlined every important battle he’d gone through, everything he had done to save the people dear to him. When his hands were clean and his body wasn’t in pain, what was he even doing?
He clenched his fists in his lap, watching the scars stretch. Sometimes his bones still ached. The warning that one more push past his limits could render his arms forever unusable echoed faintly in his head, meaningless now that One For All was gone.
“I guess I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Izuku. Deku. Student, hero, teacher. He’d been so many things, he didn’t seem to fit any of them quite right.
Todoroki covered Izuku’s scarred right hand with his own. “You are so much more than scars and bruises, Midoriya.”
He huffed a laugh. Midoriya, huh? Izuku asked, “Have you ever called me Deku?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Todoroki’s fingers slipping between Izuku’s felt natural, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “Because I’m friends with Midoriya Izuku first.”
“Hm.” Maybe being Midoriya Izuku wasn’t so bad. Gran Torino might have thought him to take ownership of his hero name, but it was still how he’d introduced himself to a class of first year hero course students who were as nervous to be taught by him as he was to teach them.
There were parts of him — of student Izuku — he recognized in those kids, too.
Izuku picked at the top button of his shirt. He noticed a drop of red from the split lip that bully had punched him.
He frowned. “Do you think my suit is stupid?”
“Your…?” Todoroki shook his head at the change in subject. Then he looked Izuku up and down with agonizing scrutiny, and smiled — the kind that Izuku wasn’t sure he was supposed to see. “No. I think you look handsome.”
His heart jumped in his throat. “You think — Really? I’m not — I mean, I… Really ?”
Todoroki’s laugh was another thing he didn’t think he deserved — and then he quickly tried to quell that thought because he’d been told he was allowed to have nice things.
And Todoroki was made up of nice things.
“It’s just,” Izuku stumbled onward, “that the guy from earlier said something about it, and now I’m… unsure, I guess, like maybe he was right and —” Izuku bit his cheek when Todoroki leaned over.
His heart lurched. His breath stocked. He tasted blood on his tongue.
Then he tasted Todoroki’s mouth on his.
And it was almost the same rush he got from being punched in the face — only better, so much better when there wasn’t any pain involved.
Because Todoroki was careful. He was gentle. He cupped the side of Izuku’s face that wasn’t bruised and curled fingers cautiously into the front of his shirt.
Izuku didn’t close his eyes. He felt lightheaded when Todoroki leaned back, having forgotten to breathe, and gasped when he lifted a hand to his lips.
They tingled and his heart thrummed and Izuku’s eyes darted back to Todoroki like he was bracing for a second impact.
It never came.
“Your suit isn’t stupid,” Todoroki said.
“Okay.”
His hand stayed resting over Izuku’s heart. Could he feel it trying to escape his chest? He watched it as though he did.
“Should I have asked first? If I could kiss you?”
“If you could…” ‘Kiss you.’ Todoroki had kissed him. Izuku huffed a disbelieving laugh because… okay, maybe the right thing would have been to ask, but when had Izuku ever been asked if the things done to him were okay? His body had always moved on its own. No one had ever thought twice about hitting him with all they’d got.
But his body only moved when provoked, when he saw a quirk gearing up or a hand pulled back to punch. Mostly when someone was about to get hurt. So when Todoroki waited patiently, Izuku didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say.
All he could do was grab Todoroki’s arm, his elbow, reach out to him like he’d done a dozen times before, and pull.
Todoroki was a little less gentle with him the second time. His fingers were demanding, grabbing Izuku’s waist, and he leaned into him, over him, pressed him up against the side of the couch so the edge of the seat dug into his spine.
Izuku gripped back, pushing hands up Todoroki’s arms and around his back. The repeated press — insistently closer until they were chest to chest — of Todoroki’s mouth made his heart thump. The hum vibrating against his lips made his stomach drop as low as if he’d throw himself out of a moving vehicle.
They slowed down and parted when Izuku had Todoroki’s face cupped in his hand. He tucked short red hair unsuccessfully behind his ear. Watched his expression up close.
“What are we doing?” he asked breathlessly.
He wouldn’t have thought Todoroki was nervous before — didn’t think he was capable of it — but now he was close enough to see his throat bob and to see his lips press into a line. To watch eyes dart left and right.
“I’m trying to tell you that…” He swallowed. Pulled his hands back slightly. “Next time you feel like something’s missing, you can come to me. I want you to come to me, if… if that’s what you want, too.”
For more kissing? was what Izuku wanted to ask, but he didn’t think he could get the words past his lips. Lips that had been kissed by Todoroki, his friend, his… Lips that he could feel his own excited heartbeat in.
He leaned in and tilted his head like he might kiss Todoroki again, but fear overtook. The adrenaline had worn off just enough that he could feel the bruise throbbing in his cheek once more.
“I should go,” he said, and Todoroki — painfully — looked like he understood. He helped Izuku to his feet, but Izuku saw him run his hands though his hair with some unspoken emotion while he picked up his suit jacket. He didn’t put it on, felt far too warm for it.
He wondered if Todoroki would try to stop him — he looked like he wanted to.
He wondered if he could be stopped.
He blinked once and found himself standing in the entryway. Should have taken off his slippers and put on his shoes already, but his legs didn’t seem to work. His body wouldn’t move like he wanted it to.
Or maybe he didn’t know how he wanted it to move.
It had found another thrill, and walking away now was…
He fisted his hands against his legs, toes curling over the step before the door. “I think…” Izuku began, but he wasn’t good at asking for the things he wanted.
Todoroki however was a youngest child. Getting what he wanted was almost a given.
Warmth pooled in Izuku’s gut when a hand slipped around his waist. He felt Todoroki’s chest press up against him and his shoulders relaxed.
“Something’s missing,” Izuku whispered, dropping his head back against Todoroki’s chest. He swore then and there he’d never get into another useless fight again if he could have this instead — the tentative press of Todoroki’s lips on his neck, a hand seeking out his own.
It was more than kissing. It was Todoroki finding him when he needed help, and calming tea and takeout food and the way he made Izuku feel like the best version of himself. Made him feel like himself at all.
“I can’t promise I’ll never get hurt again,” Izuku said, fighting back tears because it was the kind of truth he should have told his loved ones years ago. Instead he’d lied and made them sad.
Todoroki wrapped both arms around him. “I know. I know you, Midoriya.”
Knew him through and through and had never tried to change him.
Izuku turned around in his arms. He was high on something, and it made him bold. “But I won’t go inviting it. As long as I can have this.”
He was vaguely aware he was switching out one addiction for another. He absolutely did not care.
Todoroki smiled happily. He hugged Izuku closer than he’d ever held him before and that, too, got Izuku’s heart hammering and his blood pumping. He felt the need to give his muscles a little workout. See if he could pick Todoroki up as easily as he could beat down a villain.
Todoroki brushed their noses together, spoke against Izuku’s lips. “You can have this.”
Izuku grinned before it was kissed off his face.
It was true. He was Midoriya Izuku, Deku, and he was more than scars and bruises. And he could have this.