It starts with a dream, innocent, mostly, about green hair tickling his chest, strong hands gripping his waist, laughter that bubbled happily into the air around them. But there is nothing innocent about the way Midoriya’s lips, pink and slicked and parted, say his name so sweetly.
“Shouto,” he sighs.
“Midoriya,” he stutters over the name, heart pounding, but it’s not the name that this figment, this fragmented image of his classmate is looking for. He pleads with wide green eyes, it’s too much, his heart will burst right out of his chest if this goes on but the image is waiting.
Izuku, Izuku , Izuku.
“Izuku.” He wakes sweating with the name on his lips.
“Ffffuck,” he groans as he swipes a hand down his face, on second thought he leaves it, hiding his hot cheeks and breathing through his fingers.
After that, it’s hard to call him anything else. Inside the confines of his own mind, it’s not much of a problem, he’d caught himself calling him Izuku to himself a few times before. The problem is when he addresses Izuku out loud, and has to fight with himself every time he calls him Midoriya.
He stumbles over his last name twice before giving up on addressing him entirely. He waits to gain his attention, taps him lightly on the shoulder, clears his throat, and does his best to erase both names from his vocabulary.
Eventually, someone is going to notice that you can’t say his name , he thinks with a curse after Kirishima sends him a look over Izuku’s shoulder. Just do it. Just once to erase suspicion, think, plan your words carefully, speak.
Midoriya, Midoriya, M I D O R I Y A.
Izuku smiles softly at something Kirishima says.
“Iz-” fuck. Izuku turns just slightly, but Shouto hurries to cover himself. “Ahem. Is… everything...okay? With you? Today?” Well. That was painful.
Izuku smiles at him anyway, even if he does raise an eyebrow at his halting speech. “Yeah! Everything is great! How are you? Oh, are you worried about the exam on Monday? I’m pretty nervous, I haven’t been doing so well on the practice quizzes and-”
He’s so relieved that he’s lightheaded, and most of Izuku’s words go over his head until “-so do you think you can make it?”
“Uhm.” Kirishima is nodding enthusiastically behind Izuku, so he takes a chance and says “Yes. Of course.”
Izuku positively beams at him, and Shouto locks his knees to keep from wobbling.
“Great! I’ll see you tonight!”
Shouto’s breath leaves him in a hiss as he’s left with just Kirishima, separated a bit from their other classmates. “Kirishima. What did I just agree to?”
Kirishima snickers but it quickly devolves into full on belly laughing and Shouto mentally catalogues everything Kirishima has ever said to him about Bakugou in order from least to most humiliating. He wonders if he could spill something small, harmless really to the explosive blonde without compromising his friendship with Kirishima.
“You mean you don’t know? You just said yes to whatever?” He finally pants through his laughter. Shouto glares because Kirishima knows, he knows exactly what just happened and he’s teasing him goddamn it.
“Ok, ok I’m sorry, I just,” he laughs, “I can’t help it dude. You're so cool about everything it’s just hilarious to see you get worked up like this.” He pretends to wipe a tear from his cheek and Shouto rolls his eyes.
“He asked you to come to our cram session tonight. Like eight or nine of us will be there to study for our test and we need more smart people because Yaomomo will be there but so will Jirou so who knows how much attention she’ll be paying to the rest of us plebs. And Bakugou is smart, but he’s a terrible teacher. We were going to invite you anyway, but I told Midoriya he should be the one to ask you.”
“Why?”
“Because he has the best chance of getting you to say yes, obviously.” Kirishima grins at him. “You should have seen how red his face got when I told him that.”
Shouto’s heart might actually stop beating for a second.
“You told him that?” He pinches the bridge of his nose to fight off an impending headache. “I’m going to find Bakugou and tell him that you want to lick the nitroglycerin off his skin.” He’s only half joking, but Kirishima laughs at him anyway and tugs him back.
“Don’t worry so much! I told you, he was happy! He blushed, dude! Like right down to his neck! It was adorable, I’m sure you’re sorry to have missed it, please don’t tell Bakugou I said that , everything will work out fine! Just come to the study sesh tonight and help us out, it’ll be fun.”
Shouto hesitates for a moment. “Izuku really blushed? When you said…”
“Woah! It’s Izuku now is it? Dang Todoroki, thought you’d never get there.”
Shouto can feel the heat rising in his face and brings his hand up to cover his mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that. I just… I had this dream last week.”
And god he’s so glad that he and Kirishima had struck up their unlikely friendship all those months ago because he would never be able to have this conversation with anyone else.
“Oh no. The dream. That’s stage four my friend. You’re irreversibly gay, now. Once you’ve had the dream, there’s no going back.”
“I thought we had established that when you practically shoved my own feelings down my throat.” He pauses for a moment, "YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM!" echoing painfully in his memory. He pushes it aside. “You sound awfully familiar with this for me not having said anything specific about it.”
“No specifics needed! Everyone’s had The Dream, yo. How do you think I came up with the whole nitro licking thing?”
“Kirishima, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want to talk about my dream and I especially don’t want to talk about your dream about Bakugou ,” he pulls a face. “You should do something about that, by the way. Your sparring sessions with him seem to be winding him up rather than down.”
Kirishima tries unsuccessfully to hide a guilty look. Shouto narrows his eyes at him.
“What are you doing to him?” He asks suspiciously.
“Ah. I may have taken a page from Midoriya’s book and bought myself some spandex. It’s surprisingly breathable.” He looks sheepish. Poor Bakugou. “Back to you though! You’re calling homeboy by his first name, that’s a thing, man. Capital T, Thing.”
You’re a Thing, he childishly wants to say. “If I go to this study session and blow it somehow, I’m going to blame you,” he says in measured tones. “And then Bakugou is going to be very pleased when I cut holes into your leggings because no one should wear leggings.”
He strides away with as much grace as he can muster, listening to Kirishima whine after him.
“They’re spandex!”
It’s so hot out that the cool air of the library should feel like a blessing. Instead, Izuku just feels clammy. He tugs his tie off and stuffs it into his jacket pocket as he makes his way over to his friends, who are trying to push two tables together as quietly as possible.
“Oi, what are these things made of, anyway? Since when are tables so freaking heavy!” Kaminari grunts and manages to lift one corner and slide it about an inch over the thick carpet.
Izuku chuckles and shucks his jacket, dropping it and his bag into a chair and rolling up his cuffed sleeves. “Here, let me help,” Izuku nudges Kaminari over and hefts the table up, propping it against a hip so that it doesn’t drag, and sets it down touching the end of the second table.
“Holy damn, Deku,” Jirou says appreciatively. “Did you even use your quirk for that?”
Izuku feels his cheeks flush a little when Kirishima wolf whistles, and lifts an arm to scratch at the back of his head. He hadn’t used his quirk, actually, and Kaminari was right, the tables were made of thick and solid wood, ornate legs weighing it down. Maybe Izuku felt a little proud that he could do things like that now to help his friends, but in a class full of exceptional people he wasn’t about to start bragging about it.
He hurriedly grabs his things and moves to set up one end of the connected tables, and pauses when he sees red and white flash at the corner of his eye. Todoroki is standing about five paces behind him, expression blank save for slightly wide eyes, the gray one particularly glittering prettily with brownish undertones in the glowing light of late afternoon streaming in through the large windows.
“Are you alright, Todoroki-kun?” Izuku shoots him a worried glance, running the back of his hand over his forehead to wipe away a bead of sweat, and Todoroki seems to blink back into reality.
“I’m fine Iz-” he coughs into his fist suddenly. “Excuse me. I’m fine.”
As they settle in around the table, they break off into smaller groups to tackle the study guide. Bakugou is flanked by Kirishima and Ashido, and looks ready to boil over at the over the top boisterousness of the two of them combined. Kaminari and Sero sit across from them, reading Bakugou’s notes upside down over the table. Jirou and Yaoyorozu sit close, chairs angled so that they can almost face each other, and Izuku thinks that he can see their knees pressed together when he ducks his head under the table to pick up the pencil he dropped.
Izuku is glad that he grabbed the chair at the head of the table, because the only person pressed in close to him is Todoroki, who sits adjacent and is letting Izuku cross his ankles over his.
Todoroki is talking Hagakure through one of the formulas while Ojiro listens attentively from her other side. Izuku should have guessed that Todoroki would be an excellent teacher. He’s brilliant and calm, and waits patiently for Hagakure to consider what he’s said and come up with more questions. He takes it in stride when Ojiro accidentally talks over him to ask his own questions, and gives a small smile to allay the guilty look Ojiro sends him.
Izuku is smitten.
Todoroki has taken off his school jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and Izuku finds himself staring for longer and longer stretches of time as the sun sets and sends warm orange light over him. His eyes look backlit where the sun hits them, and his eyelashes cast long fluttery shadows over his cheeks. As he watches, Todoroki reaches up to tug a white strand of hair between his fingers, an absent habit Izuku noticed he only falls into when he’s completely relaxed.
“Ah!” Hagakure’s voice jars him from his reverie. “I get it! Todoroki-kun, thank you! Ojiro-kun, look, I did it!” Ojiro holds his hand up for a high five, and Izuku watches his hand twitch with a slap from an invisible hand.
Todoroki is smiling like it’s a secret that his classmate’s success makes him happy. Izuku nudges his foot under his until Todoroki glances over at him. Izuku grins and gives him a thumbs up.
Izuku is delighted by pink in Todoroki’s ears. Pure indeed.
They stay in the library for a few hours, shuffling in their groups every now and then. Kaminari comes over at one point to study next to him, but ultimately distracts himself and Izuku with a paper football until Todoroki catches it in his left hand and burns it with a look dangerously close to something devious.
Well then.
Izuku tries not to let on that he thinks its cool, amazing, adorable, or that he find’s Todoroki’s smirk to be just a little bit sexy, is it getting warmer in here? But Kaminari is grinning smugly at him. He tries to give him an intimidating look while Todoroki is occupied with his book, but judging by the way Kaminari just snickers at him, it’s not very effective.
By the time it’s getting dark out, half of them have called it quits until it’s just Kirishima and Bakugou at one end of the table, Ashido, Yaoyorozu, and Jirou sitting three abreast, and Todoroki and Izuku occupying the far end with their notebooks overlapping.
Todoroki has been tapping his pencil against his bottom lip for the past minute and Izuku isn’t sure if he’s even blinked in that time, his eyes tracking the movement so intensely. He really needs to take a breath. He already decided he isn't going to do anything to strain their friendship, and that definitely includes all of the things he wants to do with Todoroki’s mouth. He can still look, though, right? It's a very pretty mouth.
And then, like a gift, Todoroki’s smooth lips curve around-
“Izuku,” he breathes like a sigh, like his name is a relief as it slips from his tongue. He doesn't hear the rest of Todoroki’s words, eyes stuck tracing every shape his lips make, the sound of his name in Todoroki’s soft low voice bounces around in his head.
“Whah- uhm,” Izuku tries to shake loose his thoughts, it feels like his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and he said his name, right? Did he imagine that? “Sorry, I didn’t hear what yo- did you say my name just now?” Smooth , Izuku wishes he could slap himself without drawing more attention to his awful blush.
Todoroki blinks at him in astonishment, uncomprehending for a moment, until all at once his face is turning pink, and oh, no, it’s so cute, Izuku’s heart swells in his chest to contain the feeling.
Todoroki opens his mouth as if to speak, then snaps it shut so fast he can hear his teeth click. He draws his legs away from Izuku’s and there’s a cold spot on the underside of his ankle that misses the contact as Todoroki retreats into himself. Izuku wants to help, reassure him somehow, but he can’t find his voice.
“I’m- oh my god ,” Todoroki murmurs into his palm and looks away. “S-sorry, uhm, Iz-Midoriya!”
Is he… stuttering? Izuku quickly combs through the past year he’s known Todoroki and comes up completely blank for stuttering. Although, that time with the concussion does come to mind.
“Todoroki…? Are you alright?” Izuku tries to catch his eye, hand hovering above his arm but not touching in case it startles him. Todoroki finally looks up and Izuku feels a jolt go through him. He’s never seen Todoroki look so outwardly panicked.
“I-” Todoroki chokes out, breathing hard. Izuku lets his hand rest on his arm soothingly, done with waiting. If Todoroki doesn’t want his touch, he can shove him off, but Izuku is now nearing frantic, what could he do?
“Todoroki-kun, it’s alright. Are you… are you embarrassed about saying my name?” Izuku pitches his voice low, and bites his lip, still flushed with pleasure at the memory despite everything. “I don’t mind, it’s okay if you want to call me that.”
The frenetic energy surrounding Todoroki dissipates a little at that, and he seems to be considering something, some hidden evaluation behind the scenes is happening as his eyes flit over Izuku’s face, as if searching for a lie. It breaks his heart a little, because Todoroki has been more open than usual lately, giving tentative little half smiles even with their other classmates.
“It’s okay, Todoroki-kun. Almost everyone calls me Deku, anyway. And…” Izuku rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s… kind of nice? I don’t get to hear my given name that often any more, since my mom is the only one who really calls me that. So it feels…” Should he really say this? It seems to be toeing the line between what is appropriate to say to your friend. Izuku takes a deep breath and goes for it.
“It feels special. When- to hear you say-” and he’s trying, he is, but it’s embarrassing, he can’t just tell him that he wants to hear his name in Todoroki’s voice forever, that is not cool, platonic, best friend stuff-
“Sorry,” Todoroki says so quiet he barely hears it over his pulse pounding in his ears. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He seems to be gaining back some of his composure, and shifts his eyes down the table to check that Bakugou and Kirishima, the only two left, haven’t overheard them from the opposite end.
Izuku checks too, and a startled laugh breaks free of him. Kirishima really knows how to handle Kacchan, doesn’t he? Bakugou has one arm wrapped around the back of Kirishima’s chair and is leaning into his space to scribble over his study guide, and he thinks for a moment that the muted sounds of his grumbling are familiar to him. Except he can hear it, when he focuses, just a little underneath the frustrated growl of his voice, a note of something fond and exasperated.
Todoroki is looking at the pair too, and Izuku wonders if he can see the softening lines of Kacchan’s scowl the way he can, or if he’s looking at the obvious glow on Kirishima’s face.
“They look happy, don’t they?” Izuku whispers near Todoroki’s ear, like they’re a couple of co conspirators. He feels rather than sees Todoroki smile, the way his shoulders drop half an inch.
“They do,” he whispers back.
Izuku resists the urge to rub his nose on Todoroki’s shoulder while it’s so close to appreciate the cool scent of snow and pine, and sits back in his seat.
Todoroki shifts his attention away from them and Izuku can see uncertainty creep its way back into his posture as he darts his gaze away.
Izuku reaches his foot out to catch his behind the ankle, and is tickled by the memory of bringing him down in sparring that way, hooked above his solid stance, and the surprise he’d seen on his face as he hit the grass. The pleasant thought makes it easy to infuse warmth into his voice when he says “I mean it, Todoroki. You can call me whatever you want. I’m okay with it.”
Todoroki peeks at him once, twice, and nods slightly.
Izuku curls his foot around Todoroki’s and smiles.
From the other end of the table, Bakugou starts up a loud string of expletives that makes him cringe.
They’ve been studying for years, it feels like. Kirishima’s brain is melting in his head. He flops his head down atop his notes and tells Bakugou as much.
“Your brain was mush to begin with.”
Kirishima knows he means it affectionately, and simply rolls his head back and forth until the paper sticks to his forehead when he sits up.
“Tch. Are you here to learn or goof off, dipshit, I’m not a fucking kindergarten teacher, get your ass in gear or get the fuck out,” Bakugou snarls and snatches the paper from his face.
“Dude. You’d be like, the worst kindergarten teacher ever.”
“Fuck off, I’d be good at anything I did, if I wanted to. Even taking care of snot nosed brats like you.”
Kirishima nods, because it’s true, Bakugou would be excellent at just about anything he put his energy towards, but still says “Maybe so, babe, but you’d raise an entire horde of six year olds who speak exclusively in curses. I just don’t think the older generation would stand for that kind of tomfoolery, you know?”
“I’m getting real sick of your tomfoolery, and your shitty excuse for a swear word too, so why don’t you stuff it and get to work!” Bakugou shoves his notes in front of him. “You got this one wrong, use the formula like I fucking told you to or I’m done helping your dumb ass.”
Kirishima heaves an exaggerated sigh and is about to tuck into his work, when Jirou, Yaoyorozu, and Ashido start to pack up their things. On their way out, Ashido smacks a kiss onto his cheek and Jirou ruffles his hair until his gelled style droops.
“Yo! Not cool!” He tries to stick it back up with little success and scowls when Jirous sticks her tongue out at him and throws up a peace sign. “Wait! Can I borrow a hair tie?”
Jirou slips a hairband off of Yaomomo’s wrist (aww, she’s blushing) and shoots it right at him. He scrunches his face and hopes it doesn’t get him in the eye, that would suck, but Bakugou’s hand snatches the tie from the air before it gets to him, fast enough to look like a blur.
“Woah!” He can’t help but gush because that was so cool, oh my gosh, as Bakugou scowls at him and drops the hair tie into his hand. Yaoyorozu gives him a thumbs up on her way out, looking between him and Bakugou, and Kirishima has to tuck his head into his shoulder to hide the heat in his cheeks. Luckily he can pass it off as casual since he’s pulling his hair back into a messy ponytail. It doesn’t keep everything out of his face, but it helps keep it off his neck and it feels nice. He gives a puff of air to shift his bangs from his eyes and twists the tie into place.
When he looks up, he meets Bakugou’s red eyes dead on, and yikes, that’s not a good idea. Kirishima holds his breath to calm the stuttering beat of his heart because Bakugou is staring at him with something smouldering under the surface and if he’s not careful he’s going to end up lighting himself on fire the way Todoroki does.
Kirishima clears his throat, awkwardly locked in place by Bakugou’s eyes, then cut off abruptly.
“Your hair looks less shitty like that.” Was that… Did Bakugou just give him a compliment? Kirishima bounces in his seat and leans into his space to ask, but from the corner of his eye he sees Todoroki’s red and white head jerk.
He snaps his attention to his classmates down the table and he’s pretty sure that he’s not misreading the situation when he thinks that Todoroki looks mightily uncomfortable right now. He leans forward, watching Midoriya reach for him. Todoroki's eyes are looking just a little wild around the edges.
Kirishima puts his hands on the table and starts to push himself up. “I’d better-”Bakugou’s rough hand lands on his shoulder and pushes him back into his seat forcefully.
“Leave ‘em alone, hair for brains.”
Kirishima blinks over at Bakugou.
“If those idiots can’t figure it out on their own, they’re too dumb to be together anyway. You and round face should just mind your own business.” He’s gruff and irritated, but he can see that Bakugou is watching Midoriya carefully calm Todoroki with a look that says he wants to make sure he’s doing it right.
“Bakugou, I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”
“Of course I fucking noticed! They practically have GAY written on their foreheads!” Bakugou’s scowl lightens to a mild glower as Deku finally rests his hand on Todoroki’s arm. He takes a breath. Midoriya has it under control, he doesn’t need to step in, everyone is fine.
“You’re actually good at reading people’s emotions, huh?” Kirishima says appreciatively.
Bakugou looks him in the eye and gives him the driest look he’s ever seen, irritation flashing in his eye. Something about it gives him pause… If he’s so good at reading people then…? Kirishima gulps and wonders if maybe he’s been too obvious. He's not bad at reading Bakugou, as difficult as it is, but he's not an expert either. Was that supposed to be a hint, or...? He considers asking Deku about this, they're childhood friends, right? Midoriya would know if Bakugou was implying something.
Just be cool, dude.
“Well! This problem isn’t going to solve itself, right? So do I use the formula here, or…?” Bakugou rolls his eyes and slings an arm over the back of Kirishima’s chair, reaching over him to cross out his messy calculations and scrawl a new formula next to it.
Kirishima can’t help the happy glow that blooms in his chest when Bakugou's hand brushes his out of the way, more gently than he probably meant it to be. Bakugou may talk like a grump, but at the end of the day, he really is a good friend. He tears his eyes away from the crease between Bakugou’s brows to focus on the equation and sees that thanks to Bakugou’s additional chicken scratch, it has expanded to cover most of the page in what he can only assume is a formula or some kind, though to him it looks more like someone put a bunch of numbers, symbols, and the greek alphabet into the blender. No way he’s ever going to understand this!
Bakugou is trying to explain it to him in his usual caustic tones, and Kirishima feels his frustration build.
“Fuck me in the ass already!” Kirishima spits at his calculus textbook, and Bakugou chokes on his spit next to him. He looks over, concerned, and pats his back with a solid thump, and jeez, he is built. Kirishima shakes his head. Not a good time for a hot flash.
Bakugou shoves him away, still coughing, his face red and Kirishima worries that it’s from lack of oxygen or something, but he starts swearing almost immediately so he’s probably okay, right?
“Get the fuck off! And don’t say shit like that.”
“What? You’re the one who made fun of my tomfoolery! Do you want me to swear like a man or don’t you?” Kirishima pokes a finger into Bakugou’s cheek, and his eyes are murderous as they twitch over to give him the death glare to end all death glares.
“Stop laughing, you piece of shit! I’ll fuckin’ end you right here-"