Work Text:
Shouto dropped onto the grimy bricks of the alley, still strewn with the aftermath of an energetic battle with some villains whose names he couldn’t be bothered to remember. After a while, they all started to look the same.
He had a cannonball-sized bruise on his chest and a slice on his ankle, the bleeding only held at bay by his flame powers. However, he was pristine compared to the man who dropped next to him.
Three of Izuku’s fingers stuck out at odd angles, the skin purpled around them, and his wrist on the other arm jutted at the wrong angle. It wasn’t the worst beating Shouto remembered Izuku taking, but it was certainly the ugliest batch he had seen in years.
“Damn it,” Izuku hissed under his breath, trying to straighten his broken wrist with his sole two intact fingers on the other hand, and neither were faring well.
Swallowing a groan at the ache throbbing in his entire body, Shouto leaned over to assist. “Emergency teams will get here eventually. At least the prisoners are taken care of.” He channeled his ice power into the palm of his hand and hovered it over the injury.
Izuku sighed in relief as the cold numbed his battered wrist. “Thank you. That feels much better.
With a hum, Shouto studied the injury hand, eyes narrowed as he gently probed it. He had battled beside Midoriya Izuku for ten years, and the results of the examination were no mystery to him. “It’s dislocated again.”
“Oh.” Izuku blanched, and Shouto didn’t blame him. His wrist hurt at the moment, but it would pale in comparison to the experience of having it reset.
Having a dislocated joint popped back in place was nothing new to either of them, but Shouto had only done the thing once. It was one of the worst things he had ever experienced. Not because of the feeling of bone and tissue shifting under his grip, or the sound of them cracking reverberating through every nerve.
It caused Izuku pain, and the thought of it made him sick. The action itself certainly had.
Shouto’s cold hand remained wrapped around Izuku’s wrist to offset the swelling, but he couldn’t ignore the pearls of sweat on his forehead or the glisten of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t make a sound, but he never did because that was just how Izuku was. His own suffering was secondary to that of the ordinary citizens he gave his all to protect.
He took a shuddering breath and said, “Brace yourself.”
Izuku’s eyes widened. “Shouto, are you sure? Last time, you —” He swallowed hard. “You know.”
“You’re in pain,” Shouto said. “I can’t leave you like that.”
“Okay,” Izuku choked, screwing his eyes shut to brace for the flash of pain. “I’m ready.” His jaw clenched and he bit his bottom lip.
“Izuku,” Shouto whispered, resting his forehead against Izuku’s. “Listen to my voice.”
Some of the tension leached out of Izuku’s face. “O-okay.”
“There’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you,” Shouto started. It was true enough, though the part he left out was that he was too chicken to go through with it.
One of Izuku’s eyes craned open, and he asked, “There is?”
"Yes, there is.” Shouto flexed his fingers and doused the injury with another wave of chill. “I never told you because I didn’t know how, and there never seemed like a good time to do it.”
Shouto gulped a big breath to beat back the butterflies trying to tickle their way up his throat. He was actually going to do it. “I want you to know I —” Izuku’s wrist cracked loudly as Shouto jolted it back into place.
Izuku’s cry of pain drowned out the rest of the words Shouto never said, and Shouto pulled him close and enveloped Izuku in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Shouto’s cool hand lingered over the area, and slowly the angry heat underneath it began to subside. Izuku relaxed into his embrace, and the churning in Shouto’s stomach began to dwindle in kind.
They sat there nested together until relief teams arrived to deal with collateral damage on the scene. A medic approached them and knelt in front of them. “Do you need assistance?”
Shouto nodded, and the two of them staggered to their feet. “Some hand damage.”
The medic ushered them into the back of an ambulance, and soon they were on their way to a nearby hospital. A couple of blocks into the trip, Izuku turned to Shouto. “You never did finish what you were going to say.”
“No, I guess I didn’t.” Shouto stared at the floor beneath his feet.
He could say it. There was plenty of time and he had Izuku’s undivided attention. His concern was not getting the words out; it was what Izuku would do once he heard them. But earnest eyes studied him intently, bright despite a face smeared with dirt and blood.
It was the face of a friend, the face of a colleague, the face of a fellow survivor. It was also the face of the person he loved with all his heart — the last person he wanted to drive away.
“It’s nothing.” Shouto fixed his gaze on the opposite side of the ambulance. “I just needed to distract you for a minute.”
Izuku’s eyes bored into him, but he sat back and didn’t pursue the matter. Shouto spent the rest of the trip stewing over whatever Izuku’s imagination might have been cooking up about what he was going to say. Shouto was not one for psychology on the best days, but even he would latch onto the statement ‘it’s nothing’ and realize it was, indeed, ‘something’.
Soon they were ushered into the Hero Ward of the hospital. Shouto was quickly discharged with orders for painkillers, bandages, and sleep; Izuku wasn't as lucky. On top of his mangled hands, Izuku was battered virtually head to toe. He was assigned a room for overnight observation, and Shouto followed him in.
“Todoroki-san, Deku-san really needs to rest,” warned the attending physician.
From his gurney, Izuku tugged at the doctor’s sleeve. “Please, I would really feel better if he stayed.” He shot Shouto a pinched smile. “I’m sure you understand.”
The objections dissolved under the power of Izuku’s natural charm, and the doctor sighed. “All right, young man, you can stay. Just remember, you need some rest too.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
With that, they were alone. Shouto sat next to Izuku’s bed, arms crossed and resting under his chin on the edge of the rail to keep himself from scratching at the bandage on his leg. With a stout dose of painkillers, the agony that had twisted Izuku’s face was replaced by weariness.
Izuku’s hand limply tried to raise itself from the bed in Shouto’s direction before it dropped back into place. “I feel like pudding.”
“I know.” Shouto slid his warm hand over Izuku’s and stroked the newly braced wrist with his thumb. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you.”
Head lolling back and forth, Izuku muttered a rough, “Don’t be. I was going to try setting it myself and probably would have made it worse.”
“All right.” Shouto’s gaze wandered up the length of Izuku’s abused body until it settled on his face. It was a baby face, belying the fact they were both twenty-six years old. Genetics had overtaken Shouto’s physique, so he looked every ounce a hero in his prime. Izuku was still on the lean side, despite years of building up muscles to house his incredible quirk. He had never looked so fragile as he did then, with bruises littered all over his body in stark relief against the glaring white sheets.
They sat quietly until Izuku broke the silence with a soft, “There’s something I want to tell you, too.”
Shouto sat up straight. “Really?”
“Yeah, for a long time, really.” Izuku sighed and closed his eyes. “I just didn’t realize how important it was to say until today.”
A shiver that had nothing to do with his quirk raced down Shouto’s spine. “All right.”
Izuku tugged his hand from under Shouto’s and rested it on top. “You set my wrist even though it makes you want to puke because I was in pain. I can‘t stop thinking about it.” His heavy eyelids craned open, and his bright green eyes pinned Shouto in place. “I don’t know how you’re going to react to this, but I need you to know.”
“Whatever it is, it’s okay,” Shouto said honestly.
Whether Izuku wanted to declare them best friends forever or politely ask him to stop making such intimate gestures, Shouto would live with it because he needed to. Knowing where he stood while at Izuku’s side was far preferable to the dull, omnipresent ache of wondering whether his own cowardice was ruining everything or keeping it intact.
“Good.” Despite his swaddled hand, Izuku’s iron grip tightened around Shouto’s with surprising gentleness. “You grew up in a harsh place, and showing emotion other than cold anger or indifference has always been hard for you, but what you did for me was an act of love and compassion and I’m so proud of you for that.”
His gaze faltering, Izuku relaxed his hold on Shouto’s hand and sighed. “But one thing it did you probably didn’t expect was to remind me of something I can’t have, and it hurts. Even if this makes things worse for me, it doesn’t feel right going forward not telling you this.”
A cold weight settled in the bottom of Shouto’s stomach. Here it came, the ‘thank you but your affection makes me uncomfortable’ letdown. He closed his eyes and waited for it.
When Izuku’s limp arm gripped his shoulder and dragged him closer, Shouto’s eyes were agape along with his jaw.
“Shouto, I care about you in ways beyond how I care about my other friends. I don’t really have a reason why.” His trembling fingers traced the puckered outline of Shouto’s scarred face. “You’re usually the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing before I go to sleep.
“Is it that kind of love? I don’t know. What I do know is you’re special to me in ways nobody else is, and after today, I’m thinking maybe I’m the same for you in some way.” Izuku’s hand dropped back onto the bedcovers and he closed his eyes. “Please say something.”
Shouto sat frozen while the words clattered around his skull. Nobody he knew was overflowing with love more than Midoriya Izuku, yet a part of that vast territory was reserved only for him.
Izuku asked for a response, but Shouto wasn’t sure he could give one past the clot of feeling lodged in his throat. He wasn’t a man of many words even when he was thinking clearly; there was no chance in hell he would be able to eke out anything but a few stammered, empty words. Definitely not what Izuku deserved after such a declaration.
Leaning forward, Shouto let his lips hover close to Izuku’s, waiting for a flash of courage to finish the job. The debate lasted a few short seconds before he pulled away.
“Why did you stop?” Izuku whispered, eyes still closed.
Shouto swallowed hard. He didn’t know how to respond to Izuku’s confession, but this one, he did. “It’s not worth the chance if it will ruin our relationship.”
“Okay.” Izuku looked up at him, face strangely impassive for a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. “Then tell me this: did you think about doing it because you wanted to, or because you thought that was what I wanted?”
Shrugging, Shouto admitted, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were sixteen. Today just felt different.”
“Shouto,” Izuku breathed. He sat up abruptly and threw his arms over Shouto’s shoulders. “Make that two of us.”
As tightly as his bruised ribs and Izuku’s battered body would allow, Shouto clutched Izuku to his chest and buried his face in that unruly mop of hair. “I don’t know if we’re noble or just stupid.”
“Both.” Shouto croaked, hands shaking while they smoothed down Izuku’s back.
That was it. The torch Shouto had carried for almost half his life crackled into a full on blaze, and it left him warm all over. He was awake, but the dream that monopolized his fantasies was still there. Izuku clung to him, beaming into his shoulder.
Shouto dragged himself away so he could take in Izuku’s familiar face in a brand new way. “Izuku, I would like to kiss you now.”
“Please.”
Their mouths brushed together in hesitant greeting, but as Izuku’s swaddled fingers dragged down the line of his jaw, Shouto rose from his seat to bring them closer together. Noses and chins bumped together, but every bit of it was glorious.
Both of them had kissed other people, but for Shouto, other casual relationships born solely to chase off the loneliness that permeated their line of work couldn’t compare. He gave his body away every time he stepped on the streets to fight off villains and protect people who needed it, but nobody else ever had his heart.
Almost dizzy, Shouto pulled away so he could gently coax Izuku back onto the bed. “You need to rest.”
“I feel like I could fly.” Izuku tried to sit back up and his aching limbs denied him the motion. “Why do I keep punching things when I know this happens? This isn’t how I pictured this happening.”
Shouto chuckled. “Anyone who knows you can easily picture you looking like you got your ass kicked. It’s just who you are.”
“Thanks.” His brow furrowed in thought. “I think.”
“Do you want me to stay the night with you?”
Izuku shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. Sleeping in a chair is the last thing you need.”
“Then I won’t sleep on the chair.” Izuku watched him wide-eyed while he climbed over the bed rail and nestled on his side, arm open and waiting to invite Izuku in. “I’ll get a lot more rest knowing you’re all right.”
Face red and pasted with a grin, Izuku laid back into Shouto’s chest and hummed when Shouto’s arm wrapped around his waist. “We always did figure out how to make things work.”
“Yes, we have.” With that, Shouto let the weariness of battle and a blanket of contentment lull his senses, and soon they both drifted off so they could wake up to a new dream together.