Chapter Text
“You’re like a princess.”
The 8 year braiding his hair whispers this like a secret, like saying it any louder could make it untrue. Charlie’s braids are loving and sloppy, her little hands not quite gathering enough hair with each twist. She had seemed so hesitant to ask him for even this, as though it was a great inconvenience to him.
Shouto decides then and there that he is not going to fix it, and not going to take it out for the rest of the day no matter how strangely it tugs on his scalp.
“Thank you Charlie. I think you’re a princess too.”
Charlie shrugs. She shifts on the old beanbag trying to get comfortable.
“Maybe. I wish I had hair and powers like yours. You’re like Elsa.”
Todoroki smiles and catches himself from turning, careful not to dislodge her fragile hold.
“When you are done, I’ll braid your hair too,” he says gently, “we’ll put flowers in it. You’ll look like a princess then.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to. There aren’t any flowers now,” Charlie says simply.
Todoroki feels his heart twinge like a cut guitar string. He thinks of her tired eyes, how old she sounds for her age.
For a moment he says nothing, waiting for her to finish. When she holds out her little hand he gives her the scrunchie. She tugs it carefully onto the braid.
“Charlie,” he says gently, scooting himself around to finally face her, “there are still flowers.”
She frowns at him.
“No pretty ones. The poppies just grow on the grave piles. I don’t want any of those in my hair. They absorb dead people.”
The look on his face must really be something, because she tilts her head and shakes it, like she’s meeting a particularly dumb puppy. He’d be offended if she wasn’t 8 and also saying morbid, depressing things with such straightforwardness. He’s at such a loss for words that she eventually continues,
“I guess we have paper ones. You can put those in my hair, if it makes you feel better.”
If it makes me feel better?
“There are still roses. I saw a whole garden of them a few days ago.”
“Did you bring any?”
“Well, no.”
“Then there are no roses. Your words are just nice words.”
Somehow, Shouto finds it in himself to find that funny instead of incredibly sad. He recalls Izuku describing object permanence to him and shakes his head with a small smile.
“Here,” he says, holding up a palm to form a little ball of ice. “Watch.”
Charlie does. She stares curiously as Shouto sculpts petals with his fingertips, forming a little ice flower. He hands it to her, and she cradles it in both palms like treasure.
“My mother could make these better,” Shouto says with a little shrug, “but it’s still a rose.”
They both watch as it begins to melt, wetting her fingers.
“This is…nice,” Charlie decides quietly. She finally looks up at him. “Cold though. It’s melting already.”
Todoroki lays a hand softly atop her head.
“There are still flowers, Charlie,” he whispers.
Charlie looks down at the growing puddle in her palms.
“You’re sure?”
“I swear it.”
——hours earlier——
The large kitten is not cooperating.
It does not respond to headbutts, nor to nudges. A push of the paw does not wake it, nor a tug of its red and white fur. Clementine, mother of all, is displeased.
“Mmmmr?”
Displeased and concerned. Why is this kitten still sleeping? The heavens are shaking apart and the world is ending and she is hungry. The other large kitten needs them. Not to mention the morning meal has not yet commenced but she can smell it hiding in the floating boxes on the walls. A terrible anxiety overtakes her. Is her kitten dead?
“Mmrr!”
“OOf”
The large kitten gasps as she pounces on it. This startled reaction assures her. She makes her concern known immediately and loudly.
“Clementine…” Shouto groans, prying the heavy cat off his chest with difficultly as her claws snag on his t-shirt and she goes limp like a wet noodle. Her paws open and close as she begins purring loudly and kneading. While adorable, this does not dislodge her from the t-shift. After a moment of struggle it seems easier to bring Clementine closer than to remove her. Todoroki sighs. Wrapping his arms around the fuzzy motor engine, he tries to go back to sleep.
Clementine tolerates this for an admirable 10 seconds before squirming out of his grip and attempting to crawl over his face. Her claws are less soft.
Shouto winces and relents.
“Izu?” He calls hoarsely into the pitch dark. It can’t be morning, can it? Sleep clings to his limbs like a heavy blanket. Heavy rain sounds from outside, obscuring any auditory clues. He glances up at the bed and even reaches up to paw at the edge of it, but the sheets are cold to the touch. Confused and exhausted, Shouto drags the blanket around his shoulders and sits there a moment to gather himself.
Clementine, visibly pleased with this development, trots toward the door of the bedroom and cheerfully bats at it until it opens enough for her to squeeze her head through. She pokes her face back into the room after a moment to stare at him accusingly. He wouldn’t know this if her eyes didn’t glint what little moonlight shines through the rain.
“Mm,” Shouto hums inelegantly, rubbing his eyes. He stands up clumsily and shuffles to the door with the blanket draped around him like a cape.
Clementine chirps and pops back into the living room with a dainty stride. Todoroki follows quietly, only to pause in the doorway.
A small shadow sits curled on the couch, knees up, a letter dangling in between his scarred middle and pointer fingers. It’d be too dark to see if not for Blackwhip, which hovers and undulates around him like a set of knarled wings. The soft green glow encases him in a small bubble of light no more than a foot in any direction. A rumble sounds outside. A flash of lightning. He watches as Izuku curls into himself and buries his face in his knees, liquid green curls flashing white in the sudden light.
He’s been trying to use Blackwhip to read, Shouto realizes, eyes flickering to the small pile of letters on the coffee table, some opened. Izuku doesn’t seem to notice him. He just holds the letter and breathes, looking very small. Until another strike of lighting flashes. Thunder hits the apartment a moment later, booming. The sound is so loud that’s the makeshift taping of the window rattles, and Izuku flinches. Shouto can watch this no longer.
He quickly slips back into the bedroom and digs into the closet where he stored the supplies from their picnic. There. White candles. He grabs a pillow.
His friend startles when Shouto sets the first lit candle on the couch side table. Their eyes meet.
Izuku’s are unsurprisingly bloodshot. And if he’s being honest, Shouto is still having trouble keeping his open. Clem woke him at an odd time. He’d very much like to go back to unconsciousness. With an armful of candles, he lazily stacks them around the nearest flat surfaces and lights them with a flick of the hand as he sets each down. Quickly finished, the couch is alight with warm light.
“Don’t strain your eyes,” he whispers. And then, “Scoot over?”
The confused look Izuku is wearing would be very cute if Shouto were at any level of awareness to appreciate it. He unfolds himself.
“Sho, why are you awake?”
“I’m not,” Todoroki corrects, climbing onto the couch and plopping the pillow in the man’s lap. Laying down and situating his head on the pillow, he tugs the blanket over them both and goes limp. “Wake me up when you want to move.”
Midoriya is silent for a moment. And then, quietly, “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.”
“The mattress is more comfortable. You’ll strain your back. I might keep you up.”
“Izu,” Shouto mumbles into the man’s soft shirt, “I don’t ever want to be asleep in the next room when you’re crying. Please.”
Silence. The receding roar of the rain.
A careful hand threads through his hair, and Shouto is lost to oblivion.
—————
Midoriya wakes up slowly in the cool dawn some hours later, the smell of candle smoke and petrichor in his lungs and his cheek pressed to his friend’s warm chest.
He floats halfway in a dream.
Tides. Ocean. The feeling of moss and warm charcoal under his palms. A slow crash of wave against shore, like a heartbeat.
Shouto.
Midoriya realizes where he is long before he opens his eyes, but he lets the thought go just as quickly. It seems perfectly natural to be wrapped in his friend’s cool touch like this. Safe. Perhaps a few years ago he might have panicked and extracted himself the moment he noticed. That version of himself feels like a stranger. Nothing short of the next apocalypse could pry Midoriya away now.
It’s the breeze that finally wakes him.
The shattered window leaks the chill. It smells clean, earthy. Izuku thinks vaguely about air pollution and wonders if this is the cleanest air he’s ever breathed. The thought jolts away as a heavy something lands on his lower back. Something with sharp little claws. Alarm fades to amusement as Clementine finishes kneading him and finally settles down to begin her rumbling purr.
I am in a love sandwhich, Izuku thinks pleasantly. And then, softer, Wow.
The sun is rising. This is an east facing window.
Another him had known that, once. A man who looked to the sky with wonder and had room in his heart to be excited about things like apartment hunting and natural lighting.
Midoriya will never be quite that innocent again. He had watched his world crumble slowly through that window. He had stared through it in despair when the phone rang and rang without end, in fickle harmony with the sirens. When the last artificial light on the horizon went dark. When it all stopped mattering so much.
And now Izuku watches the sunrise through that window’s cracks, and all he can see in that sharpness is beauty. The edges glint and sparkle like lighting where they cast scattered light on the carpet.
Izuku watches the shifting colors of the sky until a drape of Shouto’s red and silver hair falls into his eyes like a troublesome waterfall. He grins. Runs the tips of his fingers along the strand to tuck it behind his own ear. Melts into him. Enjoys Shouto’s cool hand around his waist. Breathes full breaths.
In a few hours, all will shift. Shouto will wake up and cling playfully to him as Izuku slips off to make breakfast. Their bags must then be packed to journey to the children’s shelter. Izuku will think of snacks and toys and old wounds.
They’ll travel. Shouto’s hand will rest on his shoulder like a protective spell, a thin wall between him and the ache of grief.
It will make everything possible again.
—————
They crest the hill before the children’s shelter in the afternoon. It’s in an old corporate office of brick and small windows, which explains a bit why it’s still standing while the glass skyscrapers around it are not. Todoroki watches his footing carefully, but the sharp glass carnage seems to have been largely swept up and contained close to the bases of the buildings. Midoriya explains that they swept the area when he asks, but otherwise makes the journey in silence. The box on his hip makes a dull sound as he walks.
It’s full of All Might action figures. Expensive ones. Collectibles. The kind of thing that children’s hands could twist and break and make mess of. Shouto holds his tongue. Perhaps it’s easier for Izuku like this. To be rid of them, but know they’ll be well-loved. Bearing quiet witness to his friend’s grief is important to him, even as he can do little to soothe it.
“They’ve decorated,” Izuku comments neutrally as they grow closer. It’s the first he’s spoken in a while. He sounds withdrawn.
He’s right. Even from a distance it’s the most colorful thing on the horizon. The closer they get, the more there is to see—chalk butterflies and flowers on the chipped bricks, scraps of colorful paper fluttering on yarn in the wind, a wind chime of scrap metal and dulled glass clinking audibly. It’s pretty. Innocent. An arts and crafts project out of the rubble. Izuku looks at it like he’s walking to his own grave.
“Izuku?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you actually want to do this?”
“What?” Izuku turns towards him, finally making full eye contact. “Of course I do. It’s important to you. I said I would.”
“I believe you, but you seem…off. Is something wrong?”
Midoriya is silent for a long moment then, looking away. Shouto stares at his free hand and thinks very carefully about taking it.
Before he can muster the courage, Izuku exhales briefly and speaks.
“It’s the kid. The teen who punched me. This is where I told him to go.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re worried he’ll try again?”
Izuku snorts then, shooting a rueful gaze at him. There’s a smile tucked under it somewhere.
“You wound me, Sho. Kid just caught me off guard the first time. I’ve blocked my share of punches.“ Izuku sighs properly and runs that free hand through his curls. They bounce and glint in the wind. Shouto itches to touch him. “No. It’s complicated. I’ll be fine. Come on, we’re nearly there.”
Izuku reaches out then and tugs his hand, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for their palms to be entwined. It is. It is so natural that Shouto definitely isn’t thinking about it exclusively the entire rest of the walk.
—————
They breeze through checking in, Izuku having sent notice ahead earlier in the day. A kind-looking middle aged woman with a slight Slavic accent explains that the kids are having lunch, offering to show them to the playroom where everyone will have some free time afterwards.
“It’s a weekend,” she explains, “we try to keep them to a schedule similiar to their previous lives. We have a few teachers who run classes on the weekdays. You’ll largely be playing with the young kids today, helping keep an eye on them. James will help you settle in before the kids arrive.”
James turns out to be a soft spoken young man in a sweater vest. Short and evidently nearsighted with large turtle shell glasses, he shows them the different rooms of the complex, pointing out where arts and crafts are set up, quiet spaces for napping, and a louder area that connects to an outer door with a backyard of sorts.
“Sleeping quarters are downstairs, and this is the playroom.” James finishes, quiet and melodic as is his nature. The children must love him—even Izuku seems to relax as the tour progresses. “Wait here moment please while I fetch the younger ones.”
Their guide glides off.
Shouto sits cross legged on the colorful foam play mat and beckons Izuku to join him. He does. Todoroki lays a warm hand on his inner elbow.
“Thank you,” he whispers, cognizant of the squeals of laughter and bickering down the hallway and how soon they will be overrun.
Izuku just grins a little nervously and squeezes his hand.
That’s about all they manage to say before a sea of small children flood the room.
“Hey! Stop pulling!”
“Dara! Dara! Aren’t they pretty Dara? Mine are the prettiest. Yours are nice too I guess.”
“Race you to the Lego bins, loser builds a cow!!”
“But I want a goat!”
It’s a tumble of color. Most seem to be elementary age, still wide-eyed in their own little world. The din quiets somewhat as they notice Izuku and Shouto sitting. Stranger-shy. Shouto approves.
“As I said, we have guests today,” James says above the quieting chatter. “They are here to play with you and make sure you are safe. Can anyone say hi to Izuku and Shouto?”
A few kids wave, but most just stare at them.
“Shoe-toe, show-toe,” one boy chants quietly under his breath, like he’s trying to memorize the foreign name. “Easy-coo? Easy-coo.”
He’s trying so hard. He’s so off the mark. Shouto loves him immediately.
“Hi, I’m Shouto,” he offers in his thickly accented English, laughing internally at the horde of baffled children. He missed this so much. “I’m happy to be here with you today. I used to be a teacher, in a different country. My favorite color is green.“
It’s stilted, but it does the trick. Another few kids stop cowering long enough to look curious.
“Green is boring,” a different boy with whispers, looking offended. “You have firetruck hair. Red is way cooler.”
He is quickly quieted by a girl in sloppy brown pigtails who stomps on his foot. She gets a warning look from James, to which she pays no heed whatsoever.
“So rude, Darren. You’re always so rude. Can’t you see his pretty friend has green hair? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything.”
She makes a big gesture with her small arms, like the implication should be obvious. Shouto wonders which implication she thinks it is. That Izuku will be offended, or that Shouto will be on his behalf.
His face remains utterly neutral.
He finds this so funny.
“I’m Charlie,” she continues, holding out her right hand like a businessman about to confirm a high stakes deal.
Izuku, for his part, has never been more out of his depth. He looks at Shouto nervously in a silent “help me” that Todoroki finds inconveniently adorable before he reaches out to shake Charlie’s hand with his pointer finger and thumb. She frowns like Izuku has done something very odd, but doesn’t comment on it. He winces internally.
“Um…thank you,” he finally stammers, “Red is actually my favorite too though. I’m Izuku.”
“So you like each other,” someone in the back blurts.
Izuku wishes for a swift death.
Todoroki could watch this like good television for hours.
“She means our hair,” Todoroki offers in Japanese, taking pity on him. And then, because he’s a beautiful, reckless man with no morals, “yes. I like him. He’s kind and exceptionally pretty. Any more questions?”
Some of the kids, deciding that this nonsensical conversation poses no threat and little entertainment, begin splitting off to play across the room. Legos, fabric, and crayons drift out of boxes clutched in small fingers. A few though, the name muttering boy, Charlie, and a second girl behind her, hover in place. The smallest girl steps forward to join Charlie.
“Hi there,” Shouto offers warmly.
“Hi,” she replies immediately. Her fizzy blonde curls reflect light like puffs of spun gold. She can’t be more than 4 or 5, just tall enough to be at Todoroki’s eye level if he leans forward a bit. He does. “Your hair—how did you…?”
“It is natural,” Shouto says, speaking slowly as he thinks through his sentences, “I was born with these colors.”
“And your eyes?” She asks bravely, encouraged by his easy manner, “them too?”
“Yes.”
“Can you see well? Is this one brighter?”
She points to his blue eye eagerly, nearly poking him in the process. Shouto dodges neatly and smiles a little then, his nose scrunching up a with amusement like he’s holding back a giggle.
It surprises Midoriya. The little girl has just pointed right at Shouto’s scar, and the man doesn’t so much as flinch. Midoriya looks around awkwardly for a child to engage with so as not to look like he’s just eavesdropping.
It’s just…
Izuku remembers long nights helping Shouto apply scar cream when the itching and tingling nearly drove him to tears. He had been so quietly embarrassed. So transparently ashamed to meet his eyes, no matter how tender Izuku’s hands on his skin had been.
“Darker,” Shouto answers easily, loud enough to carry to Midoriya’s curious ears, “this one’s a bit damaged. I can see, but colors are hard to tell apart.”
What.
“What happened?” She asks quietly. “Was it scary?”
Izuku freezes. He stops pretending not to watch.
Shouto’s expression does something strange then. His eyes go sharp, but not in a mean way. Just focused, like he’s encountering something he wants to handle with great care. Midoriya watches in confusion as Todoroki reaches his hands out to her, palms up. For a moment she just looks at it. Then she puts her own hands on top of his, also facing upwards.
It’s only then that Izuku sees it, the off-coloration of her tiny palms, the way her skin stretches oddly. Burn scars.
“It was,” Shouto says then, cupping her hands gently. “I was young like you when it happened, and I was very scared. Were you scared too?”
The girl looks at him then, really looks at him, green eyes wide and searching. She ignores the question.
“Are you happy, now?” She asks instead, not pulling away. The answer seems very important to her.
Inexplicably, Shouto looks over his shoulder to meet Izuku’s gaze. When he finds it already fixated on him, his eyes crinkle into a grin. He turns back to the child.
“Yes,” he says simply.
The girl nods, satisfied.
“We are the same,” she observes. “Let’s be friends. I’m Fia.”
“I agree. Thank you Fia.”
“Okay. Bye then.”
Shouto releases her hands. For a moment, it looks as though Fia will turn and go.
She makes a movement to do so, only to abort it and turn quickly back to Shouto to hug him.
Todoroki’s little “oof” at the sudden contact is unbearably adorable.
Midoriya is having feelings about this, which is ridiculous considering the whole conversation had nothing to do with him.
Fia really does run off then, her short legs carrying her over to a group of young boys playing some kind of jumping game. Midoriya envies their ease. He remembers being a child. A happy child, a long time ago, before it became obvious he was different. The memory has a flavor and saturation he can’t quite pinpoint. That kid feels as strange to him now as these ones do.
Children are not judging you. You are here for Shouto.
He catches a pair of brown eyes watching him from across the room. Okay. Maybe more than one pair. Glances. A lot of whispering.
Okay so maybe they are judging you but facing scrutiny from a bunch of 6 year olds is not a threatening experience, he reminds his body, which isn’t listening to him. He can feel himself getting tense.
“Easy…coo?” A small voice startles him. Izuku turns to find that the shy boy from earlier has finally approached him. From the corner of his eye he can see Shouto chatting with Charlie, but their conversation is soft and he makes an effort to pay it no mind. A child has finally approached him. He feels a bizzare anticipation, like this is his chance to redeem himself.
“You’re close,” he says, trying to sound gentle, “it’s Izu-ku.”
“Ee-kazoo?”
“Izuku.”
“Eeeee—“
“Mmhmm, Eee-zoo…”
“Eee-zoo—“
“Coo.”
“Izuku,” the boy says finally, to Midoriya’s great relief.
“Good job! That’s right. Izuku. And what’s your name?”
“Tom-my,” the boy says, pronouncing each syllable distinctly like he did with ‘Izu-ku’, like he’s teaching it back. It’s weirdly endearing.
“Hi Tommy.”
“Hello.”
Tommy says nothing. Tommy stares at him with big green eyes that don’t really meet his. Izuku tries to remember if he was this bad with children before the war. He doesn’t remember being so…useless.
“Do you like action figures?” Midoriya tries, grabbing for the box behind him with the merch he packed. He’s not thrilled to be opening it again, but if he’s going to be feeling this anxious anyways, he might as well face this now. “I have a lot of um. All Might figures.”
If Tommy seemed kind of reserved before, he certainly doesn’t now. The boy zeros in in the box like a homing beacon. His eyes light up.
“All Might??”
“Y-yeah, wanna see?”
Izuku pulls the box out from behind him and opens it, holding out one of the figurines from his original collection. It’s a shiny metallic one with hand painted features. He watches Tommy practically vibrate with excitement as he hands it to him.
“You too?” The boy asks, pointing at the open box. “Play together?”
Feeling heart-soft, Izuku nods. Tommy handles the figurines surprising care, narrating a fantasy battle against an invisible opponent with the sound effects to match. Lost but willing, Izuku wiggles his own figurine around and contributes to the sound effects. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Charlie tug Shouto away by the hand. They retreat to some other corner and he loses sight of them for a while.
It’s not long before he accumulates a gaggle of other children to distribute action figures to. The box grows empty after a while, and Izuku can’t help but feel relieved. Just as he’d hoped, seeing his mentor’s image in the hands of happy children soothes some part of his heart long left to sting. He watches Tommy run on stumbling legs across the room, AllMight held high, and feels something in his chest finally unlock.
This was their original purpose. That joy was in him, so many years ago when the world felt new. He recognizes it even as it slips through his fingers and falls flat now.
Izuku lost that part of himself a long time ago. That’s just going to have to be alright.
I am not completely without joy anymore, he reminds himself.
His eyes seek Shouto in the room naturally, like a compass drawn true north. It’s growing quieter, more kids dispersing to quieter areas for nap time or the outdoors. His hair is braided sloppily and he’s braiding (much neater) plaits into the hair of the girl from earlier. There’s a small group of them actually, girls, boys, all of them hovering with hair accessories clutched to their chests in patient excitement. Shouto has managed to get them in something of an orderly line. His beautiful hands weave the girl’s hair into neat braids with a practiced efficiency so quick that he’s onto the next child within moments.
Something strange and heavy sinks in Izuku’s gut.
Oh. He can braid now after all.
He can braid…really well.
Shouto hasn’t asked. They’re essentially living together now, and still Shouto never comes to him with a hairbrush and that hopeful look he used to wear every morning. Izuku misses the intimacy of it desperately. He wonders if Shouto will ever need him for that again. Wonders if the other man misses it too. What he would say if Izuku offered.
Like he can feel Izuku’s eyes on him, Shouto looks up then, their gazes meeting for what feels like the hundredth time that day. Midoriya manages to offer a tight smile. Shouto sees straight through it with almost irritating intuition, eyebrows scrunching in concern as he begins to look ready to stand up and go to him at any moment. Izuku quickly motions for him to stay put.
I’m fine, he mouths, knowing they’re to close and yet too far to be able to talk without being overhead. Later.
Todoroki nods hesitantly, giving him one last soft look before returning his attention to the little ones in front of him.
Midoriya takes a deep breath—
“Deku?”
—and promptly chokes on it.
“N-Nora?”
The tone of Izuku’s voice catches Shouto’s attention from across the room. Tearing his eyes away from Charlie, he follow’s his friend’s to a doorway that’s just opened. A young woman in pink overalls and big, round gold-frame glasses is looking at his friend with a grin so wide it nearly splits her face.
“Deku! It is you!”
And then suddenly the woman is there, right in front of him, her wavy brown bob swaying suddenly back into place. This would all be quite normal if Shouto had actually seen her move. She hadn’t. She sort of just…appeared.
Speed quirk? Time pause? Teleportation?
“I’m so glad, I almost didn’t believe it when the manager told me, I was so happy to hear you were coming.” Her voice has an oddly rough quality to it even as her tone bounces pleasantly, like her vocal cords are damaged.
Shouto watches a war of complicated emotions cross his friend’s face as Nora speaks. He doesn’t get much, but clearly not all of them are positive.
Shock? Warmth? Sadness. Sadness for sure, Shouto watches the way it swims in his eyes unsaid.
Izuku smiles back at her, and the rest is wiped out by the blinding quality of his joy.
“I didn’t know you’d—” Midoriya says in English, fragmented. “when the school went down I thought—“ he clamps his mouth suddenly shut.
Her smile dims significantly. “Ah.“
“I’m sorry,” Izuku amends immediately, “I shouldn’t have brought it up. We don’t have to talk about that now. I’m just glad to see you too.”
She nods, waving the apology away weakly with one hand.
“It’s fine. You were right to worry, I was there. I just…got lucky. I was eating lunch across the street.”
It sounds painful for her to say it, and a Izuku looks equally as upset. Shouto pieces the rest of the story together quickly and feels a little bit sick. He’s distracted by Charlie shifting against his shoulder as she gets comfortable, having climbed onto his lap to curl up against him. Shouto realizes with a heart wrenching fondness that she’s settling in to sleep.
“Tired, little one?” He murmurs, rubbing her back gently. Charlie just nods.
“Gonna nap here. ‘s warm,” she declares in response, not a request.
Shouto just shrugs her into a position he can sustain without too much effort and accepts it.
Nearby, he watches as Nora clears her throat and tries again for a smile.
“Enough about that. What about you? What have you been doing? We haven’t hung out in so long, I want to know everything.”
“Oh, gods, where do I even start. Um, well—“
Shouto’s startles when Izuku turns to look at him head-on in the middle of the conversation he’s not-so-subtly eavesdropping on.
“There’s someone you should meet first,” Izuku finishes quietly without breaking eye contact. Todoroki can’t look away from him.
Nora follows his gaze with curiosity. Izuku scoots closer to him, then closer still, all the way until the line of their sides press comfortably together. He’s so careful about it, certain but slow, like he’s trying not to jostle Charlie either. Shouto tries his best not to go red at the casual intimacy of the gesture. Charlie doesn’t stir. Shouto nods politely at Nora.
“This is Todoroki Shouto,” Izuku continues more brightly, his voice hushed so as not to wake the child. “Shouto, this is Nora, she taught language arts at the high school near my agency. Our lunch breaks happened to line up a lot, so we became friends.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Her eyes widen a bit, barely noticeable except to those who know her, and Izuku has the embarrassing realization that he may have…told her. About some things. About Shouto. Oh no.
She recovers quickly, her pleasant smile sliding into something coy and harmless.
“The pleasure is mine,” she says, shaking Todoroki’s hand lightly with a kind of firm gentleness. She turns back to Midoriya with narrowed eyes and a smirk. “You’re out of practice, Deku. You’ve told this man our whole story and haven’t shared a lick about his.” Blatantly untrue. They both know it. What is she getting at? When she turns back to Shouto, the playful admonishment disappears from her features in favor of a more friendly look. “So spill, how do you know Deku?”
Relieved to have a clear direction in the conversation, Shouto spares a moment to be grateful she didn’t ask who he is to Deku. He glances at Charlie. Still out like a light.
“We went to highschool together in Japan. This is my first time in San Francisco,” he answers quietly.
“Oh! Welcome! By first time do you mean..?”
“I got here a few days ago,” he answers, thinking nothing of it.
“Oh! Visiting then? Must of been quite the drive with air travel in shards, you live around here?”
“…”
Nora tilts her head in interest when Shouto blushes properly red and fails to answer. Izuku glances between the two. She leans forward, gentle, like she gets with the kids.
“…Not visiting? Are you thinking about moving here? Cause if you are, I know some people who could show you the intact housing, though it’s kinda informal these days—“ Nora ventures eventually, trying and failing to make eye contact with him.
“—Izuku and I haven’t had that conversation yet,” Shouto cuts in, eyes glued somewhere on the floor to her left. His tone is decidedly flat, and Izuku immediately pins it as a nervous tell. “Excuse me, I should get Charlie to bed.”
Midoriya moves to place his hand on his arm, a reassurance, but Todoroki has already stumbled to his feet and made a hasty retreat towards the stairwell. He sighs as the man’s loose, swishing braid disappears around the corner. He must be staring for too long, because a light throat clearing sounds behind him.
“I didn’t offend him, did I? Maybe that was too invasive. Sorry, with the kids I just get used to digging even when they don’t ask for it. Bad habit…Deku?”
“Hm? Oh, no it’s—I’ll go check on him later.” A fond little smile makes its way onto his lips. “I forgot he’s shy.” He murmurs that bit, more to himself than to Nora. He gives her a genuine smile anyway, drawing his knees up and resting his hands and chin on them. It really is good to see her. Another old friend. He’s starting to feel less like he’s alone in the world.
“So. The man. The myth. The legend. That’s Todoroki Shouto?? Damn Deku, you weren’t kidding. He’s handsome. Seems nice, good with the kids…” she prompts easily, adjusting her glasses and mirroring his posture. When she tilts her head, her cheek squishes lightly against the back of her hand, sweet and immediately disarming despite the deep rasp of her voice. “Something you want to tell me?”
“I see you’re still a gossip,” Midoriya teases, seeing right through the innocent act just as he had every afternoon back then. Nora just grins and squints her eyes.
“Where’s he staying, hm?”
“With me,” Izuku answers slowly, “his cat, too.”
Nori’s smile glimmers with mirth. “Geez Midoriya, this isn’t like you. What ever happened to “no blind dates!” “I’m here to work, love isn’t for me!’ ‘You’re never going to find me anyone anyways Nora!’” Izuku rolls his eyes at her dramatic retelling. “You just wanted him, didn’t you. I could tell, the way you talked about him. He got awfully evasive when I asked how he got here. Something you want to tell me?”
Izuku grins and briefly hides his face in his hands. “Oh Nora, you’ll never guess. You really won’t. I’m still kind of in shock about it.”
She takes the challenge immediately, just like he knew she would.
“Neighboring town.”
“Not even close. He lives in Japan.”
“Christ, then how—did he really manage to get on a plane?“
“Yes. That’s not even the shocking part. Guess where that last plane landed.”
She squints at him.
“San José?”
“Farther.”
“…Denver? Heard that one’s still intact. Still, one hell of a drive—“
“Farther.”
Her eyes widen. “You did not just say ‘farther’. Farther than Denver? Deku, even with a transport quirk like mine, that’s already a several days trip! You’re telling me this man took a who-knows-how-long plane ride, which probably wasn’t even direct, and then drove for—you know what, just tell me.”
It’s slightly embarrassing how giddy he feels answering that question. It isn’t his accomplishment, if anyone has a right to be proud it’s Shouto, but…he wants to tell someone. He wants to share this strange beauty that’s suddenly suffused so many of the cracks in his life, if only to confirm somehow that it’s real. That someone really cared so much—needed and loved him so throughly—that they were eager to drop everything and travel the world to find him again.
“Shouto drove here from New York City,” he whispers finally. He just…landed and bought a car. Found a starving cat at a gas station and adopted her, and drove across the country for me. For me, Nora. As far as I can tell, I’m the only reason he’s here. I didn’t even know he was coming. One day I was just walking back from the beach and I saw him, lit in the sunset like a fucking angel. I can’t even describe it. I thought I was hallucinating—definitely ruined his shirt, I was crying so bad.” He laughs a bit, hugging himself.
When he finally looks back up, Nora’s mouth is open. For a good few seconds she doesn’t even attempt words. And then, bluntly,
“Midoriya Izuku, you have just told me that man is in love with you.”
Izuku snorts, ducking back into his arms, shy.
“Maybe. Took me on a date yesterday.”
“You know?? Then you’re together? Deku, if you don’t put a ring on this heartsick idiot, I’m gonna cry. Don’t tell me he cooks too. Tell me about this date!”
“He cooks. Not always well, but he tries. Got a beautiful singing voice too. He threw us a picnic at the rose gardens in Richmond. Candles, wine, letters from home, the whole thing.”
“Okay wow—“
“We’re not…official,” Izuku interrupts quickly, waving his hand in a ‘keep it down’ motion. “We’re taking it slow. We were really close in highschool, but I haven’t seen him in two years, and…well let’s just say those years didn’t treat me very well. He’s been so kind. Probably kinder than I deserve. Clearly tries not to push me, but—“
“—the longing is there?” She offers with a warm look.
Izuku smiles. “The longing is there. On…both sides.”
Nora reaches out with both her hands and squeezes his fingertips gently. “Midoriya? You deserve every second of happiness that man clearly wants to give you. I am so, so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Nora. It’s really good to have you back. I’m sorry I never tried calling. My headspace was pretty messed up by then. I did miss our lunches.”
“Likewise,” she shoots back with a grin, “but hey, you know where to find me now. That heartthrob of yours seemed to be in his element before I slid in and embarrassed him, so you let him know you two are welcome back any time, yeah? From all the chatter around here, the kids are pretty curious about you two.”
“Shouto’s a child magnet,” Izuku laughs, “he spent some time teaching abroad. I think they like how blunt and gentle he is. I’m right there with them.”
“Aww,” she hums fondly. Then her eyes brighten. “Oh! Hey, show this to him, would you? Georgia over there drew a picture of you two but was too shy to hand it over herself. It’s pretty cute too.”
Nora hands him a slip of folded paper, which has clearly been ripped from a notebook and has crayon markings peeking out from the folds. Izuku carefully slips it into his pocket and thanks her.
They talk for a while longer, about the shelter, about Nora’s health, the kids, anything that comes to mind. It’s…nice. Normal. After a while, the conversation begins to die down naturally. They sit in contented silence for a few moments before Nora sighs and meets his eyes intently. Izuku’s nerves alight immediately. He knows his friend. That’s her ‘I have bad news but I’m going to phrase it gently’ look.
“I didn’t want to lead with this, cause I heard it was pretty emotional for both of you, but I got a kid here who says you found his brother. Heard things got a bit ugly. Jacob, does that ring a bell?”
Yep. There it is.
On some level, Midoriya was prepared for this. Or, if not prepared, at least expecting it. He bites his cheek lightly to ground himself before replying.
“It does. Poor kid had to identify the— you know. Wasn’t in good shape. I didn’t…things could have gone better. I didn’t diffuse the situation well enough. Took a punch I probably deserved.”
“Well,” Nora says slowly, “I happen to know he disagrees.”
“What?”
“He’s here, Deku. He wants to apologize.”
Izuku blinks. Hard.
“He—really? But I thought…”
Nora quirks her lips lightly. Not quite a smile, but close.
“People say things they don’t mean when they’re grieving, Deku. You know that. Kid feels terrible about it, told me himself. You gonna run if I bring him over? You need a minute?”
“A minute,” Midoriya echos quickly, overwhelmed by this new development. He’s been bracing for more verbal abuse. Hell, was it abuse if it was true? He sort of believed most of what Jacob had blamed him for. There are things he’s still trying to atone for, and he’s not sure he’s ready to be pardoned for them.
Still. It’s not his feelings he should be worrying about here, he reasons. If this is stressing the kid out, he’ll gladly bear the discomfort to resolve it.
“Okay,” he says finally with a breath, “I’ll hear him out.”
Nora smiles at him.
Izuku tries his best not to take it back, and settles in to wait.