The field trip is to a gym of sorts, more extensive than the one on campus and laid out with obstacle courses designed specifically for quirk precision training as well as several stations for quirkless combat. Shouto pauses in the entrance with the rest of the class and thinks for a moment that it’s actually not unsimilar to the USJ facility.
They are split into groups and Shouto is thankful to be separated from Midoriya for the day’s activities. He’s doing his best to come to terms with the implications of his feelings for him, and in the meantime trying very hard not to let it become a distraction.
Friendship is one thing, but not being able to keep his eyes off of his classmate is asking for disaster. At least he didn’t bring his hoodie.
Unfortunately, he’s not that lucky, because his group is at the sparring ring directly opposite of a particularly brutal looking obstacle course where Midoriya and his group are stationed. He grits his teeth and tries not to stare.
Since Hosu, Midoriya seems to have a better grip on his quirk, and he moves with an agile grace and ferocity that flips Shouto’s stomach to watch.
Midoriya executes a particularly high twist through two moving beams, his face focused, green curls sticking to his face and neck, and as beautiful as his form is it’s just a hair too close. The hem of Midoriya’s shirt catches and rips upward. It looks a little painful, actually, as it tugs his body out of the twist and flops him gracelessly into a pile of limbs on the floor.
Shouto bites back a chuckle. There’s no accounting for sheer clumsiness.
He brings his mind back to the task at hand, quirkless sparring against Yaoyorozu. Also in their group is Jirou, watching cooly from the side as they step into the ring together. Shouto swallows a smile at the slightest pink across her nose. Intuition tells him that Yaoyorozu is going to want to make this a good show.
She’s a skilled partner and it takes all of his focus to keep their steady rhythm. It’s going well, and as the exercise is focused more on the motions than the outcome neither party is aggressively trying to end it. Shouto laughs in his head when he notices that she’s trying to be subtle about the way she bends herself almost in half to dodge a high kick.
Maybe he’ll invite her to spar with Kirishima and him. Another member to add to the club.
Block, side step, sweep, he gives himself over to well rehearsed movements and his body warms to the activity until he is moving seamlessly around Yaoyorozu. He’s beginning to enjoy it, and risks egging her on a bit with a glancing blow to the shoulder and a half smile.
Yaoyorozu huffs through her own little smile. “It’s like that, is it?”
And then they are moving much faster around each other, Yaoyorozu’s long legs make it hard to come in close but he manages anyway. She’s not usually one to let loose in a training environment, come to think of it neither is he, but they’re grinning anyway and dancing around each other in furious movements.
Their area has drawn a small crowd, Jirou visible near the front, but he can’t afford to look away too long, not when Yaoyorozu is advancing on him. He slips away when she tries cornering him and counters fluidly when she strikes out with a new combination but he’s ready for it, she steps back and her foundation is solid as she prepares her next move. Shouto waits for it, eyes cataloging his surroundings in the fleeting moment of stillness before the next hit and-
Midoriya is there, at the edge of the training ring. His green eyes are wide as he looks right at him. Shouto startles, he’s watching him, and he’s- Shouto makes a small noise in his throat as he notices-
-Yaoyorozu’s kick meets the side of his head with a clean whack before he can rip his eyes off of-
-Shouto’s body hits the mat like a ton of bricks and his head is swimming-
-His shirt is-
“Todoroki-kun!”
-rippling abdominal muscles, a fine sheen of sweat glittering across his chest-
He tries to blink the blurriness from his vision as the world moves around him. There are hands on his face, Yaoyorozu is shouting (too loud) and something green is coming slowly into focus. He’s flat on his back on the mat and he can feel the soft surface dip where someone is kneeling next to him.
“Todoroki-kun! Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
“Midoriya?” He slurs slightly and frowns. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Why….” he blinks heavily. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Shouto does his best to ask. He has no idea if any part of it was coherent but his vision is clearing now and the face above his is bright red.
“Ahhhaha, uhm, my shirt was caught in the spinning things over there. It uh. It ripped. Are you okay Todoroki-kun?”
“Is this your hand?” Shouto mumbles, reaching for the palm resting against his cheek. Before he can reach it it’s gone in a flurry of stuttered apologies and he’s groaning because he didn’t want that, it felt good.
Slowly the hand returns, and he sighs into it before he can wonder how Midoriya read his mind.
“Uhm. I didn’t… You told me to?”
Ffffuuuuck.
Before he can curse his own stupidity, Yaoyorozu is pushing back through the crowd with a teacher holding a first aid kit. After that it’s a flurry of activity that Shouto struggles to think through. As soon as he sits up his head is pounding but someone’s hand is on his back rubbing soothing circles.
Present Mic shines a light in both his eyes, nnnngh, and talks in his best whisper, not very good, before declaring that he has a mild concussion and will sit out the rest of the training and see Recovery Girl when they get back to school if his symptoms don’t recede.
He sits in a dark corner of the gym and takes small sips from his water bottle and tries not to fall asleep. Midoriya had been called back to his group, as well as the rest of class 1-A, but Yaoyorozu, bless her, stays with him to keep him awake.
His gratefulness for her presence dulls, however, when she asks him what the hell he was thinking not dodging a kick like that.
He grimaces and leans his head against the wall behind him.
“...he wasn’t wearing a shirt…”
Yaoyorozu is still not pleased with him, but that’s alright because he can see that she’s biting the corner of her mouth to hold off a smile.
“I am not, you love struck idiot.”
“You’re one to talk,” he snaps, veritably displeased with his inability to keep his thoughts inside of his head.
“That should get better in a few minutes. Your brain is just a little addled right now. I kicked you pretty hard.”
Shouto hmphs in her direction and closes his eyes briefly, opens them when he gets a slow motion playback of every inch of Midoriya’s naked torso.
“At least Jirou saw you kick my ass. I thought she was going to swoon when you tried that new combination with the-” he rolls his tongue to ease the cotton feeling “-the bendy thing.”
“Hypocrite,” she says without heat. “Like you weren’t showing off just a little for your boyfriend.”
“S’not my anything,” he grouses. “And I wasn’t showing off.”
“Right,” she rolls her eyes and nudges him gently when his eyes close for too long.
After some time Yaoyorozu goes back to join the class and Kirishima takes her place on the bench next to him.
“Bro. Your thirst for Midoriya’s hot bod is understandable and all, but you really screwed yourself over on this one.”
“I noticed.”
“He was really worried, you know?” Kirishima was in Midoriya’s group, he remembers now. “He wanted to come and keep you company but Aizawa wasn’t having it. Told him to run the obstacle course again until he could do it without losing his clothes.”
Shouto groans quietly at the reminder. The bastard has the nerve to laugh at him. “Man, today’s been one bad thing after another. I mean, it really depends on perspective, I guess. Losing his shirt to an obstacle course, that sucks. Shirtless Midoriya, though, is a win. Concussion, not so much. Bakugou wearing a tank top? Yes, good stuff. Bakugou landing on me in the wall climbing thing, well, that’s kind of a mixed bag,” Kirishima rubs his ribs.
“You did say you wanted him to crush you,” Shouto opens one eye to give him a look.
“I was thinking more like between his thighs, actually? Like, in a sexy way.”
“I changed my mind. I can stay awake on my own. Leave me alone.”
“Nah. So did you invite Yaomomo to our Christmas Tree Appreciation club?”
Shouto frowns at him until he laughs.
“You know, because we’re pining?”
When he doesn’t get a reaction he shrugs it off. “It’s a work in progress. Yaomomo definitely needs to get in on our weekly sessions. I should start charging, you know, it’s practically therapy.” Before Shouto can butt in a retort to that he continues on “And if not her then at least Jirou, cause damn.”
Shouto gives a drawn out sigh. “You noticed too, then.”
“Hard not to. I am the resident love expert after all and girl has thirsty written on her forehead. I heard from Kaminari that during the USJ attack, Jirou had full contact with Yaomomo's naked chest.”
Shouto grimaces. “Really not something I needed to know Kirishima.”
“Incoming,” Kirishima whispers and Shouto pries his eyes open to see Midoriya jogging up to them.
“Please don’t let me say anything stupid,” Shouto whispers back tensely.
“I’ve got your back IcyHot.”
“Todoroki-kun!” Midoriya pants slightly as he comes up on them. Someone has given him a new shirt, thank god.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
Midoriya stares at him for a moment, and Shouto tries not to curl away from his apprehensive look. He tilts his head as if to examine the bruise on Shouto’s temple before tutting at him.
“Present Mic gave you an ice pack, didn’t he? You should be icing it, right?” Midoriya frets cutely-
Kirishima elbows him before the thought can complete itself and he clears his throat roughly. He raises his right hand to show Midoriya as he freezes it before pressing it to his face.
“O-oh. Right. I’m glad you were kicked on your right side. Not that I’m glad you were hurt! Just that it would be hard to reach around if it had been your left, right? I mean you’ve got a concussion, that’s pretty bad. I’ve had injuries before but I don’t think I’ve ever been concussed. I read once though that it can throw off your balance so you should probably be careful moving around for a while and-”
Kirishima looks at the freckled boy as he mutters rapidly, as if considering elbowing him, too. Allas, he had chosen his side.
Before it can go on too long, Aizawa is calling them to gather at the entrance for a final head count before they left. Shouto stands too quickly and sways forward for a moment before strong hands press against his chest to help right him.
He thanks Midoriya quietly and hears the boy swallow hard before letting go.
“N-no problem!”
When they board the bus, Kirishima pushes Shouto in front of him and loudly suggests that Midoriya sit next to him to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the way back. He’s not sure if he should thank him or kick him into Bakugou’s lap to see how he likes it.
The trip back is mostly quiet, the class is tired and it’s dark outside the windows. The weather has been mild until now, but the window has rivulets of rain running down the outside of it and the surface is cold when he lays his cheek against it. That in itself turns out to be a bad idea as the bus dips and jerks violently as one tire falls into a pothole.
“Fuck,” he curses as his head throbs.
The engine has stuttered to a stop, and unless his head is in worse shape than he thought, the floor is slanted at an angle.
Present Mic turns sheepishly to meet Aizawa’s glare at the front of the bus, and Shouto gathers that this means they won’t be going anywhere for a bit. The two teachers leave the check out the damage and the class is a mess of muddled voices that he honestly can’t make sense of right now.
“Todoroki-kun, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale-”
“Midoriya!” Aizawa calls shortly. He’s dripping water from his long black hair and he looks like someone has kicked his cat. “We need you to move the bus.”
“Y-yes sir!” he hurries from his seat.
Shouto leans over in his seat to look out the front window and watch Midoriya activate his quirk. Useful. Midoriya is so useful. The bus jostles, rising slowly where it had dipped and shifting over, and Shouto can see the concentration it takes on his friend’s face, rain running prettily down messy locks of green hair and down the slope of his freckled nose. Once it’s level, Aizawa leads Midoriya around the side of the bus to the back and then they are scooting forward slowly. Present Mic steers them to the side of the road behind the wheel.
When they reenter the bus class 1-A is cheering encouragingly and Midoriya grins bashfully before returning to his seat. His shirt is dotted with damp spots from the rain, and his shoes squish wetly. Shouto’s eyebrows furrow looking at his face. His freckles are more pronounced than he’s ever seen them against the pallor of his skin, and his lips are pale.
“You’re cold,” he frowns.
“A little,” Midoriya admits timidly. “I’m really weak when it comes to cold weather, truth be told.”
“Is that why you always wear that hoodie around the dorms?”
“Yeah, actually. You noticed? It’s my favorite. I’ve had it for years, so it’s really comforting. Like wearing a hug,” he laughs shakily through chattering teeth.
“Really wish I had thought to bring it today.” Shouto takes a fuzzy moment to consider the pros and cons of that possibility, but Midoriya is still babbling.
“It used to be worse, I was really small and skinny so I didn’t retain heat very well. I mean I still don’t, but it’s better now that I’m a bit more…” he trails off nervously.
Jacked, Shouto’s brain supplies, and he could kick himself because Midoriya’s freckles are rapidly vanishing under a dark blush that reaches his ears and he said that out loud, god, just act natural.
“T-Thank you, Todoroki-kun! You’re uhm. You are also in very good shape! I mean- I saw you sparring with Yaoyorozu-san and it was… you were really… graceful...You looked strong, I guess I’m trying to say? But also like a dancer-” Shouto raises a hand to stop him before he can spontaneously combust, before either of them combust, jesus, he’d never seen anyone turn that color before. Best to just move on, he thinks, eyeing Midoriya’s still trembling form.
“We’ll be here for a while, probably. If you’re cold, you’re welcome to use me-” shit “-use my body-” fucking hell “-I’m warm.” Finally. “On my left side. Just- here.” Before he can overthink it he wraps his left arm around Midoriya’s shoulders and brings him in with his back against his chest. It’s not hard to call upon the fire, not when he’s fighting off the heat in his cheeks, the real trouble is trying not to set the entire bus on fire when Midoriya melts into his hold.
“Oh my god,” Midoriya moans a little and they both stiffen uncomfortably. “Ah! Sorry, I mean, I got carried away, it’s just, this feels really nice. The warmth! I’m such a weather wimp! This is really nice of you, sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I can just, uhh.”
Shouto pulls him back into his chest before he can get too far. “It’s fine. Just hold still.”
Aizawa announces that the school is sending another bus so pick them up soon. He supposes they’re about an hour and a half away from the school, and the class decides to settle in and get comfortable.
They stay together that way for so long that Shouto forgets to be nervous and just enjoys the feeling of Midoriya pressed against him. Maybe it’s the cotton in his brain, or the way he keeps catching green eyes watching him when he’s not looking, but when Midoriya rubs his hands together, rather than removing his warm arm from around his shoulders to warm his hands, he grabs the boy’s wrist and shoves his frigid fingers under Shouto’s shirt to press against his warm side.
He’s sure that it was a logical move when he did it, Midoriya’s hands were cold, Shouto’s skin is very, very warm right now, it just made sense. But he’s second guessing himself, this is weird isn't it?
For a moment Shouto wonders if Midoriya is going to pass out, he’s been holding his breath for so long. Before he can regret his bold move, though, he feels the cold fingers spread out until his solid feeling palm is pressed firmly against his skin.
This might have been a bad idea. A school bus is not really the place to have your sexual awakening part II. But Midoriya’s hand feels good and it’s mutually beneficial, he tells himself. He can always blame this on the concussion, anyway, though his brain is clearing steadily.
The bus stays broken down for little more than an hour. By that time the class is mostly bundled together in groups under blankets created by Yaomomo. It feels a little selfish to keep the heat of his left side to himself and Midoriya only, so when the class gathers together at the back of the bus to chat and tell stories, he and Midoriya find a place near the center and Shouto creates a small fire in his hand for his classmates to put their frigid fingers in front of.
“Todoroki-kun, you’re a life-saver!” Kaminari gushes embarrassingly.
“It’s not that cold, you fucking losers,” Bakugou grouses, but Kirishima grins at him from under the blanket the two of them share.
He knows, from Kirishima’s long ravings about the boy, that Bakugou runs hot always. He’s glad for a moment that Kirishima seems to be his weak spot and that he’s letting the boy practically in his lap to sap his warmth. He sends subtle thumbs up when no one is looking, and Kirishima’s cheeks turn a little pinker than the cold probably warrants.
Through it all, Midoriya stays pressed closely to his left side, pressing thigh to thigh with his crooked fingered hand on his left knee, and green curls tickle his cheek when Midoriya rests his head on his shoulder and inches closer still.
Overall, the day could have gone a lot worse.
By the time they get back to school and Shouto gets a wet kiss on the cheek for his headache, it’s nearing midnight and he’s craving hot tea. He’s a little surprised to see Midoriya in the kitchens, he had expected him to get warm under his blankets as soon as possible, but there he is with his own cup of tea in his usual dorm attire.
Shouto is, just a little bit, glad to see the dreaded hoodie again.
“You know, Todoroki-kun, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before today,” Midoriya muses while pulling the hood of his sweater down over his curls.
Shouto swallows, glad that he’s capable of holding in his inner dialogue again.
“Must be the concussion.”