Shouto is alone in the laundry room, carefully putting his clothes into one of the washing machines lined against the stone walls, when Midoriya comes bounding in holding his hoodie in his hands. He looks almost bereft without it, now, in just pajama pants and a t shirt. It’s still strange to see him in such casual clothing, pajamas even, it seems kind of personal to him. By now he’s seen just about the entire class in their pajamas during their various movie nights, but he’s not sure he’ll ever really get used to it. He himself has yet to participate in the “class bonding experience,” but he’s got a feeling that it won’t last long now that Uraraka has taken Iida’s side in enforcing it.
Midoriya seems surprised to see him. “I didn’t think anyone would be down here this late.”
“I prefer to avoid the weekend rush.” If he had to suffer through Kirishima’s sweaty sock throwing wars one more time….
“Oh. Me too,” Midoriya says with an odd look on his face. It’s then that Shouto notices that he is holding only his hoodie, not a laundry bag in sight, and looking vaguely contrite.
“Are you just washing your hoodie?”
Midoriya looks up guiltily through his long lashes. “I feel bad. Don’t tell Uraraka and Iida, okay? They’d be mad at me for wasting water.”
“Is that why you’re doing laundry at ten o'clock at night?” Shouto keeps the smirk off his face, barely. He feels like a coconspirator, keeping secrets with this adorably innocent boy who feels guilty for doing laundry.
“I have to wash it a lot! Sometimes I like to wear it running in the mornings, and it gets all sweaty,” he says defensively, but he can see his good humor peeking through. Like he knows Shouto would never tell on him. He hopes it’s not too obvious that he’s got him wrapped around his finger.
“You wear it running? Doesn’t it get….heavy, or something?” Shouto valiantly keeps himself from picturing it.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind it that much, and it has a pocket for my phone so I can listen to music while I run if I bring it. My usual running outfit has an unfortunate lack of pockets,” he laughs.
Shouto frowns slightly, thinking of his own exercise sweats. Pants without pockets?
“Midoriya, what kind of pants do you wear running?”
To his surprise, Midoriya flushes. “Oh! Uhm. Just, like, stretchy pants, I guess? Haha, must be a brand thing,” he waves his hands and turns to an open washer at the other end of the laundry room.
“Midoriya,” He calls after him before he gets too far. Watching his curly hair bounce as he turns around makes Shouto’s chest tight, so his offer comes out a little breathless. “If you’d like, if you need your sweatshirt washed so often, you’re welcome to wash it with my clothes whenever you don’t have a full load for the washer.”
“You mean… like, now?”
Shouto nods, heart in his throat.
The shock on his face gives way to a bright smile, and Midoriya’s cheeks are just slightly pink when he says “Sure! That’d be great!”
Shouto stays in the laundry room long after Midoriya has left, listening to the dryer whir and wondering what made him think he could possibly befriend the fucking sun.
When the laundry is done and Shouto is collecting his things from the dryer, he pauses a moment with Midoriya’s hoodie in his hands. It’s still so soft. It feels comfortable and well worn. Something behind his ribs glows knowing that he’s holding the hoodie that he’s seen his friend wear a hundred times, the hoodie that Midoriya told him felt like wearing a hug, and he wishes for a moment, powerfully, that he could hug Midoriya too. Shouto doesn’t know much about hugs, honestly, can’t remember the last time he had hugged anyone, but he imagines that with Midoriya it would be nice.
But squishy feelings like that make him feel a little twitchy still, so he hurriedly folds the jacket and gathers the rest of his clothes. He stops by his own room to drop off his laundry bag and takes a moment to look again at the folded hoodie. This is the article of clothing that started it all. His entire crisis of sexuality hinged upon the existence of one, stupidly oversized hoodie. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of simplicity in his life now that his friend made his heart race.
With a sigh he grabs the hoodie and makes his way to Midoriya’s room. He thinks for a minute that this will be a regular thing, doing his laundry with this jacket, returning it to it’s owner, walking the short path between their rooms. It’s stupid how those thoughts make his stomach flutter, he shakes his head as he knocks on the door.
Midoriya all but falls through the door as he opens it, and Shouto holds an arm out to catch him just in case.
“Todoroki-kun! Hi!” Shouto shivers inwardly at how happy he looks to see him. When was the last time anyone had greeted him with a smile of that wattage?
“I brought your jacket,” he holds it out and smiles just a little at the eagerness with which Midoriya snaggs it from him, pulling it up to his face right away.
“Thank you! Wow it's still warm, even, is that from the dryer or from yo-” Midoriya’s face freezes, folded hoodie pressed over his mouth.
“Midoriya?”
Shouto watches his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath in, and furrows his brow as Midoriya’s face gradually pinkens. Like watching a thermometer.
“Are you…. okay?”
Midoriya’s eyes jump back to Shouto’s face, and if possible his face turns even more red.
“I'm fine,” comes his muffled response as he holds onto the hoodie with both hands over his face up to his eyes. “Thanks for washing it seeyoutomorrow!”
The door slams in his face. Shouto blinks away his surprise.
“Does someone want to explain to me why Deku-kun just threw his hoodie at me and told me to smell it?” Uraraka walks into the common room rubbing her nose.
“Who the fuck cares,” Bakugou grumbles, but it’s an anemic thing since he’s trying not to jostle Kirishima who is using him for a pillow. The room has collectively agreed not to mention the unnatural kindness or the slight flush to his face. For the sake of the common good.
“Well it’s not a big deal, I guess, but the zipper hit my nose,” Uraraka mumbles and takes a seat next to Shouto at the table.
Shouto puzzles over it for a moment. “Maybe he doesn’t like my laundry soap?”
Uraraka swivels her head to shoot him an odd look. “What does laundry soap have to do with anything?”
“I washed his jacket with my laundry tonight,” Shouto tries not to let it embarrass him. There’s nothing strange about about that, he just wanted to help his friend out.
Uraraka seems to think something is strange about it, by the way her eyes are rapidly becoming saucers in her skull. “You did what? No wonder he’s a mess! Todoroki-kun, do you know what you’ve done?!”
Shouto’s feeling distinctly cornered when he answers with a small “No…?”
“You’ve just taken Deku-kun’s precious hoodie, something that he loves and wears all the time, and you’ve made it smell like you!”
Guilt churns his stomach, then shame. “Oh, I… I didn’t realize. Should I apologize? Do I…” he is not about to ask Uraraka if he smells bad. He isn’t.
“Todoroki-kun, you’re really bad at this, aren’t you?” Uraraka turns her worried eyes over him and he resists the urge to slump down in his seat.
“Don’t worry, buddy, it’s not what you think.” Shouto perks up a little as Kirishima stretches languidly across Bakugou’s lap on the couch and ignores his furious exclamations of “I thought you were asleep you asshole! Why the fuck are you laying on me if you’ve been awake this whole fucking time?!”
“Woah, chill babe, I just woke up when Uraraka came in, and you’re comfy, so deal,” Kirishima points his sharp toothed smile at him and Bakugou goes from roaring flame to smouldering irritation and a single twitching eye. A true talent, Shouto considers.
Sitting up fully now he turns to face Shouto over the back of the couch. “Look. I’m your friend, but I’m also Midoriya’s friend and trust me when I say it’s fine. Like hella fine. Don’t give me that look-” Shouto straightens his face, “-if you’re really worried just go talk to him! It’s not a big deal! I guarantee it’s not as bad you think it is. In fact, my love expert senses are telling me that this is very good thing for the future of your relationship.”
Shouto blushes, he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks before he can tamp it down, and quickly scrubs his right hand over his face to cool it before it gets any worse.
Relationship.
Future.
“I’m going to bed,” Shouto rises abruptly.
“Stop by Deku’s room before you do,” Uraraka tugs his sleeve before he can leave. “Kirishima’s right,” she giggles for a second behind her hand. “You should probably see what you’re doing to him.”
Izuku is going crazy. There’s no other explanation, no matter what Uraraka says.
He feels a bit bad about throwing his hoodie at her, he’ll apologize tomorrow when his heart stops trying to jump out of his chest.
With some reluctance, he admits to himself that it’s not exactly a mystery why he’s feeling like someone’s tied his guts into knots and stuffed cotton in his brain. He’s had one or two crushes before, after all.
He just wasn’t expecting this one. Rather, he wasn’t expecting the magnitude of it.
He should have guessed, should have known at the sports festival when he saw Todoroki spark into life for the first time. Should have known when Todoroki had shown up in that alley with fire and ice in his eyes. He should have realized that he’s been wearing his favorite hoodie more frequently after catching Todoroki staring at his long sleeves.
He sits up in bed to glare at the hoodie in question. It’s laying in a heap in front of the door, where he’d thrown it. Izuku really should have known.
It just… it smells so good. Fresh and clean like fresh snow and pine and something a little smokey, some kind of spice maybe? He’d never given much thought to how Todoroki smelled until it was shoved in his face.
The first time he’d caught this scent had been at the hospital in Hosu City. After Iida went home, they spent the night there together. The room was empty save for the two of them, and the silence was crushing him slowly. He sat up in bed and tried to rub the afterimages of blood from his eyes.
“Midoriya?” Izuku had jolted at the low bass of Todoroki’s voice in the darkness. Sniffing quickly he turned and found him sitting up in his own bed. Izuku isn’t sure what the other boy saw on his face, but suddenly Todoroki was sliding out of bed with a furrow in his brow.
They sat shoulder to shoulder in Izuku’s hospital bed all night, not quite talking but understanding just the same. Izuku had finally tamped down the left over fear zinging in his bloodstream with the sound of Todoroki breathing steadily beside him.
He guesses that he must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke just before dawn with his nose pressed into Todoroki’s neck, breathing in the potent mix of his natural scent and the hospital sheets.
Izuku still cringes a little at the leftover embarrassment of backing away so fast that he had slipped off the bed and onto the floor. He remembers the humor glinting in Todoroki’s eyes as he peered over the edge at his prone form.
Todoroki is mostly a quiet and collected person, with his ambition and dedication close to the surface, but not far beneath are his passion, his good natured humor, and his kindness, understated unless you truly look closely. Izuku quietly appreciates these things about him, things that only come out when they’re alone.
Like their midnight meetings.
Izuku loves those quiet moments alone with Todoroki. As much as his heart stutters in his chest to see him look so beautiful as he sips his tea, or watching him move with catlike grace and devastating power, he can never bring himself to feel anxious about it. Nervous, maybe, bashful definitely, but he hasn’t been afraid of Todoroki in a long time. The place where apprehension sat now is still and tranquil, and it’s easy to talk softly into the darkness between them, to watch the tension leave Todoroki’s shoulders the longer they sit together until his soft edges come out.
He’s comfortable with Todoroki. Apparently comfortable enough to do laundry together. He groans morosely into his hands.
Having his scent so near to him makes Izuku feel… safe. Protected. Like the other boy is there with him, ready to stand between him and danger, ready to fight beside him like they had in Hosu. The possibility of having his hoodie smell like him with regularity is heady and he will admit, it’s a little intense. He’s not really sure if he’ll be able to explain why he’s got a permanent blush on his face when he wears his favorite hoodie.
Worse, Izuku thinks. What if he can’t control his body’s natural arousal at having Todoroki’s scent so near? What if he gets a boner every time he gets his hoodie back after washing it?
God, he’s so embarrassed, he had just shut the door in his face without explanation.
Maybe he should just tell Todoroki that he can wash his own jacket.
Before he can think it over, though, there’s a knock at his door. On his way to open it he trips over the hoodie, feels offended for about three seconds before scooping it up and tossing it somewhere in the direction of his bed. He’ll worry about it later.
He opens the door and finds Todoroki. Or, he could worry about it now, Izuku gulps. Todoroki has his hands shoved in his pockets and hair just a little further in his eyes than usual.
“Todoroki-kun,” he pauses to clear his throat when his voice comes out a bit rougher than he meant it to. “What can I help you with?”
The taller boy seems to hesitate, eyes looking just a tad too wide. “Uhm. Uraraka told me you... about the hoodie…” Izuku bites the inside of his cheek. “Are you okay?” Todoroki asks.
Izuku’s heart jumps into his mouth and tries to choke him. “Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uraraka told me you had a problem with… with my laundry soap?” Todoroki looks so uncomfortable, it’s sad. Worse than that, he looks guilty, and Izuku rushes to fix it without thinking.
“No! No that’s not it at all!” And there, that’s perfect, Todoroki relaxes minutely and that should be fine, he should stop there-
“I love it!”
The words come hurtling out of his mouth and he desperately wishes he could grab them from where they hang, limp in the still air between them. Todoroki isn't saying anything, oh god it's weird now he's made it weird he should say something, anything.
“Wait I didn't mean that, I mean you- urk, not you, your soap smells really good-” no not that, abort, ABORT!
“-it’s just that I didn’t expect my hoodie to smell so much like you-”
Somebody kill him.
His face has been growing hotter and hotter until it's not just his face, his entire body has gone up in flames, he’s sweating, he can feel it, and he's still talking what is he even saying Izuku has no idea what's coming out of his mouth as he tries and tries to save the situation.
“-and it'd probably be better if all of Yuei’s students did laundry together, the school would save so many gallons of water-” Izuku trails off, his mouth going slack. Is he…?
“You're laughing at me,” Izuku says, breathless.
And he is, Todoroki’s shoulders are shaking and he’s teetering precariously before his shoulder bumps against Izuku’s door frame. Izuku has seen small, tentative smiles and quiet chuckles but never this. Todoroki is gasping for air behind his hand and his arm is clutching his stomach tightly as he slumps against the wall.
Izuku thinks he might be dead.
“S-sorry, Midoriya, I’m,” he breaks off to smother another fit of muffled laughter and Izuku jolts back into his body as the sound rushes through him down to his toes. “I’m listening, please, go on.”
Izuku couldn’t string two words together if he tried. Todoroki is laughing, and he's so close to him, he could reach out and brush the red and white hair back from his forehead where it’s brushing against his eyelashes.
Instead of growing, the roiling storm in his stomach calms. He feels his lips start to smile and sinks his teeth in to keep it from spreading too far. No matter how much he wants to explode into a million bits, Todoroki has a way of bringing him back to himself. This boy, who he’s seen covered in ice and fire and blood, warmed him like hot tea at midnight, made him burn like a sea of flame coming to lick at every inch of him.
And here he is, standing outside of his dorm laughing like a total dork, and Izuku has never felt so gay in his life.
The warmth in his gut gives him the courage to reach up and tuck a small lock of red hair behind Todoroki’s left ear, thumb skimming lightly against his scarred cheek as he does.
Todoroki freezes, but Izuku can’t bring himself to regret it, not when he could say for certain now that yes his hair is exactly as soft as it looks.
“Midoriya…?” Is Izuku imagining the fine tremor in his voice? He hopes, abruptly and fiercely, that he isn’t misreading the situation.
“I think… I’d like it if we could keep our arrangement. If that’s okay?” He can’t quite keep his voice from shaking any more than he can keep the heat from his cheeks, but he tries to sound more certain than he feels.
Todoroki’s eyes are piercing his, gray and blue and clever, and Izuku has always thought they were pretty but right now they make him burn.
He holds onto the soft feeling filling his chest like a vice, letting it bolster him into not backing down. He meets Todoroki’s gaze and thinks for a moment that he sees frost bloom into a crystalline pattern somewhere beneath his right ear.
Izuku huffs a tiny laugh and averts his eyes when he sees a small flash of Todoroki’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip because that’s just- it’s just a little too much- not fair- he can’t keep his cool much longer if Todoroki is going to look at him like that.
Todoroki nods almost imperceptibly. Izuku smiles in response.
“Goodnight, Todoroki-kun,” Izuku says far too quietly, feeling shy, and backs into his room and pulls the door shut against the wide eyes of his friend.
He doesn’t realize that he’s shaking until he tries to turn around and get to bed, so it takes him by surprise when his legs stagger beneath him. He lowers himself to the floor with his back against the door and takes deep breaths.
He still has no idea what he said when he was spewing nonsense, and he’s sure he’s going to have nightmares about it, but in the moment he feels like he’s walking on air. He’s just seen the prettiest boy in class laugh like an angel, he’d reached out and touched him and gotten away with it.
Izuku knocks his head back into the door to jar his thoughts into order, but can’t wipe the grin from his face. He crawls to his bed sluggishly, suddenly exhausted. Izuku spares the smallest thought towards thanking any god that might be listening that of all the things he said, he’s at least 98% certain that he didn’t mention the thing about feeling safe with Todoroki’s scent so close.
That would have been mortifying.
He flops down into bed and almost screams when his face hits the pillow because his hoodie is right there next to him and it smells so good it should be a crime.
He’s not sure he’ll be able to wear it ever again without thinking about Todoroki. He grips it tightly in his crooked hand, and prays for forgiveness when he can’t stop himself from pulling it into his face.
He dreams that his head rests on Todoroki’s chest as it rises and falls, warm and cool and rumbling with a secret laughter that only he can hear.
Despite the frankly heart stopping events of the night previous, Shouto hopes beyond hope that his friendship with Midoriya will return to normal soon. Midoriya isn't upset with him and that's what’s important. That he now knows that his friend likes the way he smells is…. an unexpected bonus.
Midoriya seems to be having trouble making eye contact, which, understandable considering his vast embarrassment last night. Things should cool between them soon. As endearing as it had been to watch from the outside, Shouto knows with grim clarity how horrific it is to lose track of what stays in your head and what comes spewing out.
And that's why Shouto is never going to mention what Izuku said about feeling safe surrounded by his scent.
Probably.
He's only human.
He is growing increasingly irritated, though, as throughout the day as he catches no less than four of his classmates trying to discreetly sniff him.
If anyone else asks him to do laundry together, he’s going to ice them.
“Oh man, Midoriya’s right he smells great.”
“I thought you were straight bro.”
“Eehh, only mostly.”