Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7765681.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Midoriya_Izuku/Todoroki_Shouto, Shouji_Mezou/Tokoyami_Fumikage_
      (mentioned), Bakugou_Katsuki/Kirishima_Eijirou_(mentioned), Midoriya
      Izuku_&_Todoroki_Shouto
  Character:
      Class_1-A_(My_Hero_Academia), Todoroki_Shouto, Midoriya_Izuku, Iida_Tenya
  Additional Tags:
      sinful_izuku, wet_dreams, rim_jobs, Birthday, Fluff, Fluff_and_Smut,
      everyone_knows, awkward_gays, Surprises, izuku_overreacts, Pining, izuku
      swears_just_as_much_as_bakugou, Slice_of_Life, kind_of, Food_Sex,
      Flirting, Friends_to_Lovers, Light_Angst, Fluff_and_Angst, Attempt_at
      Humor, Porn_With_Plot, Getting_Together, Canon_Compliant
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-14 Chapters: 1/4 Words: 6647
****** what you want most ******
by meltingpoint
Summary
     “Oh, I’m not finished yet.” Iida smiled. “I’m telling you this
     individually because you have a special role to play that the others
     don’t. We’re dividing up the labor: some people will be in charge of
     decorations, some in charge of food, some in charge of the present,
     so on and so forth, but you, Todoroki, you are going to be the most
     important player of all.”
     Shouto had a premonition.
     Iida leaned in, smiling, and for the first time Shouto recognized the
     universal human capacity for guile in Iida. There was no such thing
     as a truly honest person in this world; he couldn’t believe he let
     Iida fool him.
     “You’re going to be the decoy.”
     (Or the one where planning a birthday party for Izuku wakes two
     idiots up.)
Notes
     Context of time: Class 1-A is finishing up their second year. The
     VA’s gone and done with.
     I’m going to try to make this slow-burn. I can tell I’m already
     failing. These two idiots are so obviously in love.
     This is my first time writing for this fandom and first timing
     writing anything in a very long time. It’s also my first time writing
     porn. Enjoy…?
See the end of the work for more notes
Midoriya Izuku: 166 cm, successor of All Might, bearer of One-for-All, victor
against the Villain Alliance, and soon to be known to the public as Deku.
Also Midoriya Izuku: master chef, baker, and cake-decorator.
Izuku hummed, pouring the flour, salt, and baking powder into a bowl and
pushing a fork through the mixture. After he deemed the ingredients well-
distributed, he walked over to refrigerator and retrieved the metal bowl
chilling inside, placing four egg whites therein and proceeding to beat them
with a whisk. It’s a trick his mother taught him: egg whites fluffed up to
stiff peaks faster when the bowl was cool and clean. Any sane person would have
delegated the egg-white beating to a standing mixer, but lately Izuku found a
preference for doing it by hand—it forced the arms into a vigorous rhythm and
left him with a semblance of post-workout ecstasy. Todoroki once commented that
Izuku was like a machine that violated conservation of energy; he just couldn’t
stop vibrating in his shoes. He’d been like that since the Villain Alliance had
disbanded and things finally returned to normal at Yuuei, always prepared to
battle or flee or do something at a moment’s notice. That had been six months
ago, and when no threat of danger had once reappeared since, Izuku finally
agreed to himself to compromise his defenses and direct his excess energy
elsewhere. That now manifested in making cake.
He thrust the whisk violently through the egg whites, expending as much elbow
grease as he could manage. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Todoroki
walking into the kitchen. Perhaps he imagined it, but Todoroki seemed to sigh
at the sight of Izuku doing manual labor when a mixing machine was sitting 5
feet away from him on a side counter. Even still, Todoroki gave no comment on
it. He understood. They were all restless, and each person in class 1-A needed
a way to drive out their paranoia. This wasn’t the first time Todoroki caught
Izuku making cake so laboriously, after all. And maybe Todoroki understood
better than most people how Izuku felt, having both been special targets of the
VA.
Empathy was one of the things Izuku loved about his relationship with Todoroki.
Todoroki had a prodigious talent for listening and understanding, judging only
when appropriate and when his judgement was constructive. With that, he knew
almost every facet of Izuku’s life, save for the secret behind One-for-All, and
never seemed surprised at Izuku’s antics. And if he were, he’d adapt quickly
and ease them both into their companionable routine again. Todoroki was
dependable, and Izuku liked to believe they coexisted on a higher plane of
empathy that admitted them alone and no other.
Which was why the whisk slipped from Izuku’s fingers when Todoroki went from
standing 10 feet away to having his fingers brush against the back of Izuku’s
waist.
Before his mind could act, Todoroki’s breath filled his ears. “Hungry?”
“Todoro—what—oh—” Izuku inhaled sharply as the fingers on his back slid to his
front and a palm pressed into his side. Another hand snaked around Izuku’s
front, rubbing his hipbone. Izuku couldn’t think, every word sucked out of his
brain by the hands massaging his hips, fingers deviating closer and closer to
where they shouldn’t be.
Todoroki’s breath smothered his lungs. He was so warm, so close. “I asked you a
question, Midoriya.”
Todoroki needed to stop. “I—What was the question again?”
With a soft groan Todoroki shoved Izuku’s body against his, hot lips to his
ear. “I asked you if you were hungry, Midoriya.”
“Ye—yes.” Izuku was on fire, every surface of his skin burning.
“And what are you going to do about that?”
“Make... cake?” That sounded pitiful.
“Hm.”
Suddenly, the pressure of Todoroki’s body against his back, the kneading of his
hands, the hot air by his ear disappeared. A whine escaped Izuku’s mouth as his
disaster of a brain tried to reorient itself, and—steadying himself with a hand
on the counter—Izuku turned around to face Todoroki, unsure whether to feel
betrayed at the abrupt cessation of whatever they were doing or confusion as to
why they stopped. Todoroki returned his level gaze, evidently unfazed when
every atom of Izuku’s being was ready to burst from their conformations.
Todoroki raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you want to make your cake?”
Izuku stared blankly. “What?”
Todoroki made an impatient noise that cut off as a look of alarm passed through
his features. So much for that empathy Izuku thought they had because Izuku had
no fucking idea what Todoroki—or himself, for that matter—was thinking since he
walked into the kitchen. Todoroki gripped Izuku’s head with his right hand,
peering closely into his eyes. “Please tell me I didn’t melt your brain by
accident just now.” What the fuck.
Todoroki seemed taken aback and Izuku realized he swore out loud. Scrambling,
he amended, “I mean—no! No, why would you—no!”
That did negative work to allay Todoroki’s fears. “Okay, I’m actually really
concerned right now. Shit. We should get you to Recovery Girl—”
“No!” Izuku snapped, slapping away Todoroki’s hand. “I’m fine! Jesus, I’m fine.
I just don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”
Todoroki gave him an appraising look and, after a while, let up. Izuku focused
his gaze on him, demanding to know what had gotten into him, but soon all he
found in Todoroki’s eyes was a mixture of ferocity and irritation.
“Make your cake,” Todoroki simply said.
Yet he made no effort to leave. Hell, what was Izuku supposed to do with that?
“Todo—”
“You wanted to make cake, yes?” Todoroki snapped, his blue eye flashing
dangerously. “Well hurry up. I’m hungry too.”
“Oh... kay?” Turning around, Izuku set his attention on the kitchen counter and
not on the boy lurking behind him—or, well, tried to, since it was impossible
to ignore Todoroki’s presence. Sometimes, Izuku wished he could have the same
sort of imprinting force Todoroki exerted by simply being there.
And then there were times like now when Izuku wished Todoroki had the goddamn
ability to fade in the background and not throw Izuku’s heartbeat into chaos.
The minute Izuku lifted the whisk, Todoroki’s hands slid across Izuku’s chest,
giving him an arrhythmia. All air vacated his lungs and he couldn’t
breathe—what the fuck—
“Shh,” Todoroki whispered, breathing hot and heady air into his ear. “You
wanted cake because you were hungry. I’m hungry, but it’s not just cake I
want.” Those hands began kneading into his chest, the left one alighting on a
nipple and swirling inward. Izuku’s hands were shaking, the whisk clanging
frantically against the bowl. “I want you.”
If Izuku’s brain had a cock of its own, it came.
Throwing the whisk down, Izuku tried to spin around but hands quickly locked
him where he was, back against Todoroki’s chest. He ground back against it,
determined to move and to get any of reaction from Todoroki and was rewarded
with a small groan. The arms around him tightened and Todoroki growled,
“Make—the—fucking—cake.”
“Wh—why?” Izuku got out, a mewl following right after as he felt a hardness
slide along the cleft of his ass.
An impatient noise, or maybe a groan. “You want it, don’t you?”
It was so hard to move air past the block in his throat.
“Y—yes—” Todoroki twisted both nipples and grated his length against his ass
again— “OH—oh my God...”
One hand left the nipple and rubbed its way to the top of his shirt buttons,
fisting his shirt there to drag Izuku’s body up and against Todoroki’s. “Do you
want anything more?”
“Yes, please just—”
“Tell me what you want.” The first button popped free. “What you want most.”
Tongue—yes, finally, please, let me feel your mouth—lapped against his neck,
sliding along his collarbone, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.
“Scream it.”
“I want you, Todoroki!” Izuku never felt more like a sinner in his life.
Todoroki growled and ripped open the second button in Izuku’s shirt, his other
hand roaming Izuku’s bare chest. His lips had migrated back to the crook of
Izuku’s neck and was sucking all around the skin there with fervor. Upon the
opening of the third button, his left hand cupped the swell of Izuku’s
pectoral, rough calluses swirling along the skin to pinch the nipple. Izuku
cried out.
The fourth button snapped open, then the last, and Todoroki’s left hand roamed
all over his torso—chest, nipple, abdomen, back, everywhere. Todoroki gripped
the hanging portions of Izuku’s shirt and slid it down his arms to the ground
between their bodies. Then Todoroki’s mouth left the neck and descended
down—slowly, achingly—down Izuku’s back, licking and lapping and sucking and
biting, marking his shoulder-blades and then his spine. Lips and teeth and
tongue drove shards of pleasure through his back as every inch of his chest and
abdomen was subject to the torturous ministrations of Todoroki’s fingers, and
he couldn’t breathe—he couldn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe—God, they were both so
hard—
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Those fingers drew their coarseness along the edge of Izuku’s waistband,
pulling at it and slipping an inch beneath to run along his hips. Then they
slid out and both hands came to rest on his belt buckle, lazily pulling the
leather from the metal as Todoroki’s tongue nested inside the dimples at
Izuku’s waist, dragging lower and lower until they were licking the cotton of
his underwear as much as they were licking skin. The belt came undone and soon
did the button and zipper of jeans.
Todoroki snarled as he ripped down Izuku’s jeans and underwear at the same
time, teeth instantly attacking the flesh of his ass and covering it with
bruises. Izuku’s throat was so dry from all the moans that tore from it but he
couldn’t stop moaning “fuck, please just fuck me—FUCK!”
He almost screamed as Todoroki sank his teeth down so hard, salving the area
with his tongue right after.
“Please, Todoroki,” Izuku begged. “Just do something other than—oh—other than
that—oh, oh fuck—just fuck me Shouto, please!”
At the sound of his name, Todoroki’s fingers dug into his ass, prying the
cheeks apart. “I’m—” Todoroki heaved, sounding winded, “I’m going to fuck you
with my tongue.”
Then he felt the wetness slide into the groove of his ass, deeper and deeper
and then—fuck—circling the rim of his hole before slipping a little in.
The sheer sensation of having the tip of Todoroki’s tongue at the entrance of
his ass sent pleasure rocketing through his throbbing cock, and there was no
way of holding back any longer. “Fuck, Shouto, I’m going to come, I’m going
to—”
In that moment, everything—the world, his brain, his heart, his body, Todoroki,
his whole existence—funneled out of him as he came, ropes of white hot come
discharging from his red, leaking cock, and in the absence of all that he knew
he saw not black but the red of feverish blood and the white of all-consuming
pleasure—
And the vortex of his existence spun out into the conscious world.
Blearily, Izuku opened his eyes, catching the grey wall of his bedroom, lit
softly by the morning light streaming through the curtains, not the marble of
the kitchen downstairs or the blinding white of his orgasm. His breathing was
still shallow and rapid, his blood still racing, and as he finally noticed that
the cotton of his underwear was thoroughly wet and adhering to his skin, the
horror of what transpired in his dream finally dawned upon him.
He just dreamed about being fucked by one of his best friends. Could he even
call Todoroki that? While Izuku did feel an unsurpassable empathetic rapport
with Todoroki, Todoroki wasn’t the type to hierarchize his friends, and
certainly wasn’t sappy enough to do what “best friends” typically did with each
other. Hell, Izuku and Todoroki weren’t actually that close. They just trusted
each other and respected each other more than they did most people, that’s all.
(Though, having thought a bit further, Izuku spent just as much time with
Todoroki as he did with Uraraka and Iida, and the latter two were definitely
senior-ranking on his friends list. Okay, maybe Todoroki did qualify as a “best
friend.”)
Moreover, Izuku needed to get his shit together. The question at hand wasn’t
defining his relationship with Todoroki. The question at hand was why the hell
he dreamt such a dream. It wasn’t his first wet dream—he was a growing teenage
boy after all, and teenage boys had curiosities, which led to confirmations,
which led to indulgences, which led to fantasies—but it was his first involving
any identifiable face from his life. Why Todoroki? Sure, he was plenty hot, but
as much as his wet dream suggested otherwise, Izuku did know boundaries. He
would never lust after someone he knew like that; it felt like a violation to
do so. If Todoroki was the first person he dreamed of getting fucked by, then
who was next? Kacchan? Jesus, have mercy...
That question, albeit important, was not even the most important one (and if
Izuku’s neurons weren’t in such a twist he probably would have arrived at this
next question faster). The real and very urgent question was how the hell he
was going to face Todoroki from now on. He even agreed to practice sparring
with him at 9 today in preparation for the practicals coming up, but Izuku
resolved immediately to cancel. He’d take the coward’s route out and relay the
message through Iida or something; whatever it took, he would not face Todoroki
today. Or ever.
(“Ever” was too much, Izuku knew. He’d probably starting missing his best
friend after a day or two. Speaking of a day or two, Izuku’s own birthday was
arriving in three days. What if Todoroki bought Izuku a hot dog and all Izuku
could see was a dick between two ass cheeks? What if Todoroki ate a hot dog and
slid his tongue between said ass cheeks? What if—)
Izuku lifted his head and slammed it down on his pillow in frustration, cursing
his hormones for ruining everything. Turning, he looked at the clock on his
bedstand, which read 8:34 AM. That meant he had 26 minutes until his scheduled
meeting with Todoroki: 26 minutes to wash out his boxer-briefs, take a shower,
brush his teeth, put on clothes, find Iida—who surely would not be in his room
by this time but in the commons, which happened to be where Izuku told Todoroki
they’d meet, meaning plan A was out and he needed to find someone else to bring
Todoroki the message—, scurry back to his room, secure the lock, and maybe take
another shower to rid himself of the disgust this morning bred for him.
Fucking hormones.
                                     • • •
Midoriya was late. Ten minutes late, to be exact, down to the second. Shouto
stared at the second-hand making its round around the clock on the commons wall
until his name sounded beside him in a voice that did not belong to Midoriya.
Sighing, Shouto twisted his face to look at Iida, whose expression seemed to
dither between being apologetic and triumphant. That was strange.
“Yes, Iida?” He hoped he didn’t sound too irritated. He wasn’t that irritated,
really, but Midoriya had a habit of rebuking Shouto whenever his tone made him
appear more critical than he was being.
Iida nudged his glasses up his nose. That meant he had business. “I went to
Midoriya’s room because I left my textbook there last night and he told me he
had some inescapable business with the toilet bowl. He sent me forth with his
sincerest apologies for being unable to attend your sparring practice this
morning.”
Shouto raised an eyebrow. “How inescapable was that business?”
Only Iida could pull off pity and amusement in total seriousness on the same
face. “Very. The minute he opened the door, he ran into the bathroom and locked
himself in there. The whole encounter was rather odd really, because for
whatever reason he seemed incredibly relieved the moment he saw me but panicked
in the next—an actual 180º rotation.”
Confusion settled in Shouto’s mind, as well as concern. Midoriya was an
oddball, yes, but such erratic behavior from him usually had legitimate roots.
Something had happened to him—or, really, it could have simply been the
diarrhea and Torodoki was over-thinking it too much. Chalking it up to that and
Iida poor face-reading skills for good measure, Shouto pushed himself off the
wall to pay Midoriya a visit. He wasn’t sure what he’d do once he got to
Midoriya’s room other than be there, but that’s what friends did, right? Stay
with each other through health and sickness?
Before he could take a step toward the elevator, though, Iida grabbed his
bicep. Shouto’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“Actually,” Iida’s eyes were slightly downcast. “I was hoping I could talk to
you alone, and Midoriya being out of commission—as painful as that is—provides
me with that opportunity. Now that I know you were supposed to have practice
and don’t anymore, I’m sure you can spare me a few minutes?”
Shouto stared at him, deadpan. Iida knew him well enough by now to interpret
that as “go on.”
Iida cleared his throat and Shouto instinctively poised himself for a grand
speech. “As you know, today is July 12th. Tomorrow will be July 13th, then 14th
after that, and finally, 15th.” Iida moved his face closer to Shouto’s, eyes
radiating almost giddiness. “Do you know what July 15th is?”
“Midoriya’s birthday,” Shouto stated. Surprise crossed Iida’s face as if he
didn’t expect Shouto to remember. Shouto sighed. “What? I remembered because it
was unfortunate that his birthday fell on the first day of exams. That’s all.”
“Oh,” was all Iida said, though the tail-end of the sound seemed to lilt, as
though it were a question. Shouto could read the doubt on his face; some absurd
skepticism that made no sense whatsoever.
“So what,” Shouto continued. “You want to rope me into preparing for his
birthday celebrations?”
The enthusiasm bounced back into Iida. “Yes! You see, Uraraka and I are going
to try getting the whole class to set up a party for him—”
“Iida.”
“Yes, I know Bakugou is going to be a problem, Shouto. I’m hoping Kirishima
could get through to him, but in any case we still risk him reacting loudly and
spoiling the surprise for Midoriya. I’m considering leaving Bakugou out, but
that does seem unfair, and Uraraka agrees with me—”
“Iida.”
“Yes?”
“We have exams to study for. A lot of exams, the first commencing on Midoriya’s
birthday. I would have expected you of all people to remember that.”
Iida stared at him as if he didn’t know him. “I know that. Of course I’m not
telling anyone to stop studying, but I’m not going to let Midoriya’s birthday
pass without the massive celebration it deserves. Think about how the world
would be if Midoriya had never been born. We probably wouldn’t still be alive
to be studying for exams.”
Shouto knew what he would be if Midoriya had never been born. A man just as
vile as his father—a man of hate. It wasn’t the first time Shouto acknowledged
the extent to which he was indebted to Midoriya, but the world seemed
inexhaustible in its supply of reminders of that fact.
Of course, there was no need for Iida to know all that. “Yeah.” Don’t pause,
Shouto, or you make things awkward. “I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t help. I was
just curious if you’d forgotten that most people are in cram mode and will—or
should—not be devoting time to this.”
Iida’s countenance darkened with guilt. “I’m sure I could make them understand.
I’m organizing this as class president, after all. A birthday celebration to
celebrate the class president that would have been and the hero that now is!
But if they really aren’t willing, I won’t push it any further. It’s their
choice.”
That was more like Iida. Shouto nodded. “Alright, I’m in.” He paused,
contemplative. “Though can I ask why you’re telling me alone when there are
other people around here?” He gestured to the people lounging on the chairs,
scribbling hard on their notebooks. “Unless you’ve already told them, you’ll
now have to repeat the same message. Wouldn’t that be inefficient, class
president?”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet.” Iida smiled. “I’m telling you this individually
because you have a special role to play that the others don’t. We’re dividing
up the labor: some people will be in charge of decorations, some in charge of
food, some in charge of the present, so on and so forth, but you, Todoroki, you
are going to be the most important player of all.”
Shouto had a premonition.
Iida leaned in, smiling, and for the first time Shouto recognized the universal
human capacity for guile in Iida. There was no such thing as a truly honest
person in this world; he couldn’t believe he let Iida fool him.
“You’re going to be the decoy.”
“The decoy,” Shouto repeated.
“The decoy,” Iida agreed. “It’s your job to update yourself on all our
plans—don’t worry, you’ll be seeing lots of me over the next three days—and
lead Midoriya away from them. If some of us are out buying goods, make him
believe we’re gone for a different reason. If we’re baking cake, make sure he’s
not in the building to smell it. If we’re putting up decorations, keep him
occupied somewhere else. Just do whatever to keep the surprise a surprise.”
“I—” Shouto didn’t even know how to respond. It wasn’t that being a decoy was
an unpleasant job; it was that it was an peculiar one, and one founded on
deception. “I don’t like lying to Midoriya.”
Iida sighed. “I don’t either, and I don’t like doing something that’s not
studying when exams are this close. Yet here I am, asking you to do this for
him. What kind of best friends are we if we’re not willing to sacrifice
something for him when he’s done so much for us?”
Best friends. Not only did Shouto have friends now, but he had a best friend,
one who upturned Shouto’s life completely. Iida was right; for Midoriya, a
sacrifice this small was hardly a grievance.
“Okay, fine,” Shouto said.
Iida’s face lit up. “Well, I’ll be coming to you with more details later.
Thanks for helping, Todoroki!” He turned to speed away.
“Wait,” Shouto said. “I have another question. About that present... it’s going
to be a group thing? A group is going to determine what Midoriya receives from
the all of us? And why one present, anyway? Isn’t it standard practice to get
him a present each on our own?”
Iida shrugged. “Well, the present we’re thinking of is pretty big, and we’re
pretty sure Midoriya would love it, so we thought it’d suffice on behalf of all
of us. Like you said, it’s exam season, and not all of us have time to think
about what to get him that’s both special and distinguishable from 18 other
gifts. If you want to get your own present for him, that’s totally up to you. I
should get one for him too.” He smiled. “Got any more questions?”
Shouto stared at him, his mind feeling a lot emptier than usual. Something was
off, but so far every question he’d conjured hadn’t aided much in figuring it
out. He decided to lay it to rest for now. “No.”
Iida’s grin did not waver. “Okay, then. See you later!” Then with a boost of
his legs, he was gone.
The premonition was still roiling inside Shouto’s gut and his heart felt heavy
with the ghost of regret he knew he would come anon. Not knowing what to do
now, he made his way to his room to get his books, planning to pay Midoriya a
visit and hopefully get some studying done there. They were of the same caliber
in the class, after all, so what better person could he study with?
                                     • • •
Izuku had woken up this morning feeling like a sinner. When Iida showed up to
collect his textbook, Izuku almost questioned what service he had done humanity
in his past life to receive such a blessing. That benediction imbued the room
with a sense of deep holiness that seemed to cleanse Izuku of all wrong, but
the beatific atmosphere evaporated quite aptly once Izuku realized what a mess
he’d caused himself. Izuku knew the lie about being sick would precipitate
trouble right as it escaped his mouth, but Iida had appeared so soon after
Izuku slid off the bed that he could scarcely gather his wits to explain why he
was in the bathroom praying to all the predecessors of One-For-All that Iida
did not see his soiled boxer-briefs.
So after Iida left and Izuku realized he was in a valley-deep recess of shit,
Izuku agonized—with much muttering—over what to do next. If Iida had noticed
the blot, would he have told Todoroki? Was that something they did, making fun
of him behind his back? Even if he had, Todoroki wouldn’t be able to associate
the stain with himself, and if Izuku were honest with himself, he highly
doubted Iida would tell people that sort of information. Dirty embarrassing
secrets weren’t his trade.
Thus, there was little danger on that front, leaving the more inevitable result
of Izuku’s prevarication: the fact that Todoroki would probably check on Izuku,
because Todoroki was too sweet for his own good sometimes. Izuku wondered if
his real-brain decided to adopt the formation of his dream-brain—the one that
melted—because it had one job: keep Todoroki away. The only noteworthy thing it
did this morning? Guarantee a Todoroki rapping his hand against his door.
And so the minutes crept on, tediously dragging Izuku toward that moment when
he’d be confronted by his best-friend/dream-fuck-friend. Anxiety wore him down
like venom eating at his veins and Izuku was sure blood would shower out of his
gums any time with the way he had been squeezing his jaw tight. If that
happened, he’d truly be like All Might.
At last, the knock came. His stomach felt sick and there was a chance his
diarrhea needn’t be pretend anymore.
Should he pretend no one was home? No. He was supposed to be too sick for
practice; he had no place to be other than his room. He could pretend to be in
the middle of bowel release, but that couldn’t last indefinitely. Todoroki was
patient in situations like this. He’d just have to tell Todoroki that the
attacks came too frequently for him to leave the bathroom.
Walking into the bathroom, Izuku yelled, “Who’s there?” Hopefully Todoroki
could hear.
Sure, enough, Todoroki voice came drifting back, loud with a little rasp from
the force of his lungs. It sounded almost like his growls.
Izuku’s blood stilled, breath caught in his throat, images flashing through his
mind. Hands on his skin, teeth cutting into his flesh—
“Midoriya?” Todoroki called again. Right. There was an legitimate conversation
to be had.
“Oh hey, Todoroki!” Izuku shouted. He needed to end this now, or he’d make
Todoroki look like a fool in the hallway. “Sorry about canceling! I feel really
bad right now and I don’t think I can even come out to open the door for you.
Is there anything you need?”
Man, he really was thick, wasn’t he? Now he just made Todoroki feel out of
place for not actually needing anything.
After a bout of silence, Todoroki’s voice called, “Do you have any medicine?”
Oh, Izuku was not going to make another mistake. “Yep! I’ll be fine tomorrow, I
promise!” Now go, please. He needed to nudge further. “Okay, I’m sorry, but I
can’t really talk right now!”
“Yeah, got it! But do me a favor and unlock the door whenever you feel like
you’re able? I—we’ll make you some plain noodles for dinner tonight so you
don’t starve to death tonight! Get well!”
Oh shit. Abort, abort.
“Actually, that won’t be necessary—”
“Why not? You don’t have food in there; there’s a spare pack of udon in the
kitchen! It’s fine! I’ll see you tonight!”
No, no. “Wait!”
But there was no reply.
This was what Izuku got for trying to open Todoroki up to friends.
                                     • • •
With a heavy sigh, Izuku unlocked the door, crawling into bed immediately
after; it was easier pretending to be sick while in bed. There was no way about
it, Izuku had decided. If he didn’t open the door, he’d worry his friends even
more, make it harder to keep the act going tomorrow, or even lead Todoroki to
think he was avoiding him. It wasn’t like he could avoid Todoroki forever,
anyway. And, with the rumination of a whole afternoon of insolation, Izuku had
finally found some equilibrium with his emotions; there was plenty of dread
stewing in his gut, yes, but most of the frenetic apprehension had bled out of
his system. Now he was just tired, with nostalgia and a wholly different fear
worming in. He’d been with friends for so long he almost forgot what it was
like not to have any, but today was an exercise that summoned some painful
memories of quirkless, useless Deku.
The clock read 6:30 PM. Izuku wondered when Todoroki would come; dinner
preparations usually commenced a little later than 6, so by now the class
should be eating or about to eat. Ten minutes for Todoroki to eat his dinner,
another ten to make Izuku udon—that meant he would probably be arriving at 6:
50. Plenty of time for Izuku to perspire in this totally unnecessary blanket.
Knock.
Fuck. That was not twenty minutes. Not even two.
“Midoriya, if you’re not going to say anything I’m going to assume you have
your pants on and I’m entering,” Todoroki called.
Izuku exhaled. Here went nothing.
The door clicked open and Todoroki came in with a tray. At the sight of him—the
dim lamplight casting his red hair the shade of autumn leaves and his white
that of muted snow, his strong arms covered by that black jacket that rippled
with his movements, entire body lean and sturdy—every inch of Izuku’s skin
flushed with heat.
What was wrong with him?
Todoroki stopped in front of the bed, setting down the tray on the comforter
beside Izuku’s feet. Izuku dared not meet his eyes, but he could feel them
penetrating his skin; blue and charcoal, intense with solicitude. He’d received
that gaze before, and now was not the time to be filled with its flattery.
“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, his voice a gentle breeze. He had come closer than
expected and Izuku fought the urge to shy away. “Midoriya, look at me.”
“I am,” Izuku murmured. It wasn’t a lie. He was looking at Todoroki—just not in
the eye.
“You’re looking at my scar,” Todoroki stated matter-of-factly. Izuku’s gaze
jerked upward and hit Todoroki’s squarely. Air left his lungs.
Todoroki gave a small smile. “Knew that would make you feel bad. Something’s
bothering you, isn’t it? Something more than a stomach ache?”
Izuku looked away. Of course Todoroki would see through his act.
“Midoriya.” The bed sank as Todoroki seated himself next to Izuku, staring
intensely at him.
“I—” Should he lie? If anyone were to understand, it would be Todoroki, but it
would still envelop their relationship with awkwardness for a time.
Furthermore, the real question was could he lie? He’d need an excuse he could
never come up with with the state his brain was in, addled by Todoroki’s sheer
presence and generosity. If he lied and were caught again, he’d fragment their
trust.
And underlying it all was the plain truth that Todoroki was the last person he
wanted to have secrets between.
His voice barely rose above a whisper, words jumbled by his nearly unmoving
lips. “I drem baotyu.”
Todoroki’s expression was blank. “What?”
Izuku swallowed hard, steeling himself. He could do this, he told himself,
aiming his eyes straight at Todoroki’s. “I dreamt about you.”
Todoroki just stared. After a while, all that came out was, “Oh... kay?”
Izuku didn’t know what to say.
“I mean,” Todoroki cleared his throat. It was an endearing sound; he always
tried to do it as softly as possible. “I dream about you too. You’re a part of
my life—the happier part—so why wouldn’t I dream about you?”
Izuku grew even warmer, if possible, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It
didn’t banish the awkwardness though.
“Not like that,” Izuku said, allowing himself to hold Todoroki’s gaze. Maybe
this wouldn’t blow up in his face. “I—I dreamt about you in ways I shouldn’t
have.”
His eyes flitted to his hands. The silence stretched.
“Sexually,” Todoroki deadpanned. “You dreamt about me sexually.”
Izuku wanted to burrow into his sheets and never rise again.
“Midoriya.”
Izuku couldn’t look at Todoroki. He just couldn’t. A set of invisible braces
kept his head locked downward.
And then a hand—no, not a hand, but a mere finger—slid beneath the apex of
Izuku’s chin and tilted it up. Blue and black filled Izuku’s vision, the left
eye piercing and the right eye consuming.
Todoroki’s face betrayed no amusement. “Are you sexually attracted to me,
Midoriya?”
Izuku’s heart stopped beating.
“N—no,” Izuku stammered. “I mean, not that you’re not good-looking! I—shit—I’m
sure there are plenty of girls or guys out there who want you, but—”
“Yes, there are plenty of girls and guys out there who want me,” Todoroki said,
a little snappishly. “I’m quite well aware. But do you want me?”
“N—“ Should he lie? "No.”
Todoroki appraised him for a moment, searching for any deceit on his face.
Truthfully, Izuku wasn’t sure if there was any to show. Just yesterday, he
would have scoffed at the idea of being attracted to his best friend, but
today—as the past few minutes proved—every small detail of Todoroki’s face and
body seemed to seize his whole attention.
At length, Todoroki said but one word: “Good.”
Relief washed over Izuku. At least Todoroki and he were in accord about not
crushing on one’s best friend.
Yet there was a bitter pang of hurt that lingered in the corner of his heart.
“You don’t need to feel awkward about it,” Todoroki said. “Wet dreams are
normal. As long as you’re certain you don’t actually want me like that, there’s
nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Yeah...” Easier said than done. “What about you? Don’t you feel awkward about
it?”
Todoroki looked down. “A little,” he admitted. “But there’s nothing I can do
about it, is there? Maybe I’ll get a wet dream about you tonight so we can
balance it out.”
Izuku stared at him in horror; even Todoroki seemed aghast at his own words.
“That was not the right thing to say.” No shit, Todoroki. “I meant I would have
an anti-wet dream. A dry dream. A dry dream plus Ultra. An evaporative dream.”
Izuku kept staring before bursting into a fit of giggles. Soon Todoroki smiled
softly too and it was as if the stale air between them had completely
dissolved. Shifting, Todoroki grabbed the tray he’d laid down at the foot of
the bed and placed it on top of Izuku’s knees, asking if it was okay; Izuku
almost forgot he was supposed to be ill. At the sight of the udon, his stomach
growled loudly; Todoroki raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Then Izuku noticed there were two bowls of udon, with two sets of chopsticks
and spoons. So Todoroki intended to eat dinner with him rather than with the
others, explaining why he came so early.
Damn him. Izuku was overheating from all the affection.
Todoroki frowned. “So you aren’t sick at all.”
“No.”
“And I did all this for nothing.”
Guilt stabbed at Izuku. “Yes.”
“You condemned us to a plain meal of udon. I purposely kept it clean because
of you.”
“Don’t make it sound like you weren’t planning to eat it just a few minutes
ago.” Izuku grinned coyly. “Besides, you didn’t have to eat the same thing as
me.”
Todoroki grunted, as much a concession as Izuku could get. “I’m going to go
downstairs to get some snacks after this.”
Relief bubbled in Izuku. “Please do.”
“For myself only. Not you.”
“Hey!”
“So you’re going to make me make you noodles and get you snacks? Who are you,
the prime minister?”
“I helped save the world!”
“So did I.”
“I’m a sinner. You must help rinse me of my transgressions, dear saint.”
“This dear saint tells you to repent and serve others.”
Izuku covered his face in his hands. “Ugh, I surrender.”
“Hm.” There was a pause.
Then Todoroki continued, “Were you?”
Izuku lowered his hands. “Was I what?”
“Surrendering to me.”
Izuku choked on his own saliva. “Damn hell, Todoroki! You can’t just ask me
stuff like that.”
Todoroki made the cutest face. “Why not? If you can’t talk about it, then it
means you’re not over it.” His face grew closer. Fuck. “You are over it, aren’t
you?”
“Yes,” Izuku snapped. “Just drop it, for All Might’s sake.”
“Why, are you taken by All Might?”
“Todoroki!” Izuku almost wailed. Todoroki chuckled beside him, ruffling his
hair with his right hand. The cool sensation felt glorious against his scalp.
Until the hand stilled and Todoroki jerked, shocking Izuku. “Midoriya, you’re
hot!”
Izuku gave a confused whimper. “I sincerely hope you don’t mean—”
“Damn it, you’re burning up!” Glancing down, Todoroki’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Are you kidding me? Get these blankets off you!”
Right. In the face of all the new sources of heat, he forgot he was incubating
himself. Todoroki pulled the tray off Izuku's lap and he threw open the
comforter, letting the cool air of the room sweep over his feverish skin.
Immediately, Todoroki placed his right hand on Izuku’s exposed arm, lowering
its temperature. Izuku sucked in a breath.
Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not think about what his hands did this morning
in your head. Do not panic. Do not pani—
“I’m going to encase you in ice if you don’t stop that.”
Izuku started. “What?”
Todoroki made an impatient noise. “Stop freaking out. Please, stop. It’s just
me. You had a wet dream about me. I’m okay with it. You’re okay with it." He
stared intently, gaze penetrating into Izuku's. "We’re back to normal. Say
we’re back to normal.”
Izuku willed his lungs to come to deflation, holding Todoroki’s eyes. They were
back to normal—no, they needed to be. Izuku couldn't have it any other way.
“We’re back to normal.”
Something minute changed in Todoroki, like some unnoticed tension had drained
out of his features. As cool as he’d seemed about this all, Izuku couldn’t help
but wonder if he too were bothered by Izuku’s nocturnal fiasco; it didn’t
matter any more though, because they were back to normal. They were back to
normal.
Todoroki looked at Izuku, eyes warm with—yes, that certainly was—relief. It
made Izuku almost giddy to know that this natural space they shared was
cherished by them both.
“Good,” Todoroki said. "Now mean it."
Izuku nodded, this time with a genuine smile.
And so the night drew on, light and timeless, as it always did with Todoroki.
End Notes
     Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you caught any mistakes.
     Since I’m so out of practice with writing, I’ll be more than happy to
     receive any constructive criticism. It gives me no greater joy than
     to hear from you guys!
     Next chapter: angst. A little bit. Or a lot. Who knows?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!