numbertwohero | @microwaveable

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@microwaveable

His mother has good days and bad days.

On the good days, she's sweet and kind. She greets him with a hand on his cheek and a smile, she asks him how his classes are going, she remembers the friends he mentions and teases him about being popular with the girls. They go for long walks in the facility grounds and she tells him about the plants she's growing in the little space they've let her have, and he ends the visit with a hug, her thin, fragile form in his careful arms, and he wonders at how much smaller than him she is already. On the good days, he leaves with hope and renewed determination to become the best he can be, to show his father that number two isn't just second place and it's a place and a life to be proud of.

This was not a good day.

This was the kind of day where he opened her door and she looked at him for that first second with fear and hatred and sorrow, where her eyes lingered on his left side too long, no matter how much he tried to keep her on his right. This was the kind of day where every response was distracted and her voice too high-pitched and her laughter sharp and strained. This was the day that, when he reached out to stop her from walking in front of a speeding golf cart full of groundskeepers, she flinched from his touch and slapped him across the face.

She'd apologized, horror on her face and heartbreak in her voice, and he'd said it was fine, and he loved her, but he left soon after, hurrying back towards the school dorms where he could just...shut himself away. It was still early on Sunday. Everyone would still be out, or training, and he could have time to put himself back together. His right cheek is still burning from her slap, stinging and red and almost bruised, and it aches with a pain sharper and more real than the phantom ache of his scarred left side. It's a strange feeling. Normally that side doesn't feel hot. Everything is backwards. Everything is backwards, and his chest is tight, and he can feel the tears trying to burn at his eyes, but it's fine, he's almost there--

--and then he rounds the corner of the stairs heading up towards the fourth floor, and almost runs straight into Midoriya, coming down. Todoroki's eyes are wide, almost glassy, and his heart is racing, and it's only a second before he looks away, not quite flinching but all but vibrating with tension.

"...Sorry. I didn't see you there."

His voice is rough, strained, just as tight as his shoulders, and he waits for Midoriya to keep on going, to be tactful or distracted or whatever it is he needs to be, so he can finally make it up that last flight to his own floor and the safety of his room.

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Izuku isn't the only one who's nervous. After all, what Shouto's just said, what he's done...it's a kind of confession, in its own way, isn't it? And maybe a little in the traditional way, too, despite its abruptness, despite the way he means so much more than just something so trivial and small as 'I like you.' Although it's that, too, he's learning. It's a lot of things. And it's such a risk to just come out and show it like this.

For a moment, when Izuku flinches, he thinks he's messed up terribly, made a huge error in judgement. And then that little whine interrupts his words, and he sees the tears pool in Izuku's eyes, and he knows he's messed up, his heart plummeting like someone's just pulled a rug away to reveal a bottomless pit instead of a floor. "I'm sorry," he says immediately, words he doesn't say very often but means wholeheartedly. "I didn't--please don't cry," he finishes, and there's something very uncharacteristically frantic in those words, something terrified of having ruined everything. He isn't normally this on edge, especially about Izuku crying--he does cry over so many things--but this situation isn't exactly a normal one, is it?

Quickly setting his drink down at the side of the bed, Shouto turns, lifting a hand to Izuku's cheek, not even thinking about what he's doing. He just...wants to help. Wants to fix whatever it is. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nhh--" He can't really talk, not properly, but the immediate shift in Shouto's posture and expression make him want to explain. It's fine, he wants to say, he's just overwhelmed. He's okay. Don't worry, don't apologize, you absolutely did nothing wrong. Instead, the warmth just startles him, radiating from the other in a way that isn't even remotely caused by the left half of his body, and he takes a few deep gulps of air to try and steady himself. It does approximately nothing, and he just shakes his head, waving the hand not held in Shouto's through the air and trying to physically absorb his own leaking.

"You're fine, I-I'm okay," he manages, squeezing Shouto's fingers. "I get-- you know me, crybaby extraordinaire," His whole body is shaking slightly, by then, tremors like he's cold because he does not need to be making this any weirder than it already is. Except then Shouto reaches for his face, and he sucks in a sharp breath and just holds it, because if he didn't freeze his lungs he'd probably just sob, how has anyone on this earth ever hurt Todoroki Shouto he is the sweetest thing.

"Jeez," he repeats, ducking his head and taking measured breaths to regulate his everything, squeezing the hand that is still linked with Shouto's. He's dropped his Pocari at some point, somewhere, and doesn't even care. "Y-you didn't... do anything wrong, you're just really really nice, a-and really important to me, a-and, and I think, maybe, I'm, a little scared of that." It wasn't a lie, and it probably wasn't a very effective way of mollifying him, but it was all he could think to say.

At least he isn't running. At least he isn't making an excuse and making his way to the door. Mostly because he can't bring himself to leave Izuku like this, crying and alone. He won't. So he sits instead, and waits for Izuku to figure it out, resisting the urge to turn a touch into a hug. He's trembling under Shouto's hand, trembling and gasping and still trying to fight off those tears, and it's a little terrifying, but he stays right where he is as Izuku ducks his head and tries to put himself back together.

At least that squeeze to his hand is reassuring. Crybaby extraordinaire, he says, and Shouto doesn't know that he agrees with that, really--it isn't that he's crying over nothing, because obviously he's feeling something, enough to make him like this, and that's...that's part of Midoriya Izuku. That's just who he is. The person who cares so much, and feels so much, that he's just--like this.

I'm a little scared of that. So that's what this is. Strangely, the words help. Maybe because, in a way, he feels them, too. Shouto doesn't move, just leaves his hand on Izuku's cheek, and holds on to the other, and just...waits. Lets Izuku cry it all out. And after a long moment, he finally answers.

"I'm...a little scared, too. I'm not--used to caring about anyone, like this. But--I like being around you more than I'm scared of it. So..." The words are unusually hesitant, but he's figuring this out as he goes. And in that 'so' is so much more, really. So...he'd like to stay. So, he doesn't mind. "So, if you're sure it's okay...I'll stay, and we can watch this movie, and just...sit?" Together. Like this.

It's a blessing that he doesn't choose to hug him, really, more contact than he was already getting would probably turn the faucet on full blast. He's still struggling, trying to calm himself back down, curling his fingers tightly into Shouto's when he admits that he's also a little scared, that he's not used to caring about anyone like this. He sucks in a rough, shaking breath and folds forward further, pressing his forehead into Shouto's knee without really meaning to, and for a moment he just keens, making an awful little sound.

"I'm sorry," he grumbles, tugging Shouto's hand down to curl it close to his chest. "I don't want you to feel weird, but please stay, if it's okay." He can't look at him right now, all snot and tears and angry red blotches on his skin, so he keeps his face hidden.

He isn't exactly expecting the way that Izuku just folds over entirely, his forehead hot and slightly damp against Shouto's knee even through his pants, but it's not entirely a surprise, either. After all, he's still trying to pull himself together, and Shouto's only thought right now is what to do, what will help and not make him cry more.

Of course, all it takes is that noise Izuku makes--one noise--and his heart feels like it's breaking in two. He doesn't even think before freeing whichever hand he can and gently, tentatively stroking the back of Izuku's head, trying to remember the soothing motions of a mother who'd once cared for him more than anything in the world. He just wants to help. He just wants to make Izuku smile. That's all.

"I don't ever feel weird with you," he says, and there's still a softness to his voice, but there's no hesitation at all in the words. "It's more than okay. I just--tell me what to do?" The question is open-ended, a little vague. Can he put the movie on? Can he get Izuku some tissues or a water? Should he just sit here and pet Izuku's hair? They're all valid options and he'd like to do all of them at once, but that's definitely not anywhere within the scope of his quirk.

He makes a warbled little sound, caught in the back of his throat, and shakes his head. He is smiling, despite his tears, and turns his head a little to look sidelong up at Shouto, appreciating the hand in his hair. He's a soggy little disaster of a steamed vegetable, but he's smiling anyway, closing his eyes and smiling a little wider up at him.

"I'm-- I'm okay, really, this is just... I get overwhelmed, and this is..." He shakes his head just slightly, turning his head back against Shouto's knee. This is something he should have talked to him about ages ago. He should have told him, or at least tried to, but did he even really realize how he felt up until this evening? Did he have any idea? He reaches out and curls his fingers around the leg of Shouto's pants, laughing thinly. "This is so much... Here, let me..." He sits up, then, smudging his hand over his face but still keeping his fingers tangled in Shouto's, snuffling wetly. "Lemme put on the movie," he finishes lamely, glancing up.

That smile is all he needs for everything to settle in his chest, watery though it may be. All it takes is that smile, and he knows that everything is going to be fine. It's not exactly like that feeling he'd gotten as a child, watching All Might on TV, but it's similar in a way. They both inspire a sense of certainty.

Though he's definitely never thought about All Might in the way he's thinking about Izuku.

Overwhelmed he understands, though. That's fine. It wasn't that he'd done something wrong, Izuku just felt so much he'd burst into tears. He'll remember that for next time, and try to be more gentle. (Next time? Is he already hoping for a next time, another day of soft touches and shared stories? Yes, of course he is.) "It's okay," he says, as Izuku sits up, and he lets his hand fall from the other boy's hair.

"Here. It's fine. Put on the movie, then come back?" And they can go back to doing this, only maybe with less crying and a tissue or three for Izuku.

He feels like a complete idiot, if he's honest (which really, he has a hard time not being honest?), but he slinks off to find the DVD and put it in the player, setting everything up and shuffling back to the bed with the remote. He pauses when he gets there, face red and damp, and sets it down before he makes any motions to climb back onto it at all.

"Um, do... Can I... ask you something, Todoroki-kun?"

While Izuku's taking care of everything, Shouto just...watches him. Maybe in part a little to see if he really is okay, and in part because...well, he kind of feels like maybe he hasn't been looking closely enough, despite watching Izuku for months now. The way he moves, his hands, his shoulders (surprisingly broad for his size, just like all of him is much more muscular than one might expect).

He's still watching--staring, maybe, a little--when Izuku comes back over to the bed, and Shouto has to resist the urge to reach up and wipe off the rest of those tears. After all, Izuku's asking him a question, or at least a proto-question, and he doesn't want to send him off into more tears again, overwhelmed tears or no. "Of course. You don't have to ask that," he says, but there's no brusqueness in his voice, just a faint surprise. It doesn't matter what it is. If Izuku needs something, he's there, and if there's something he needs to talk about, Shouto will always, always listen. He'd do the same for him, right? So of course.

He's got a funny sort of way he moves, especially when he's strung so tight like he is in that moment. His hands might be shaking, but it's hard to say from how much he's moving them, not really giving them the chance to be still as he taps his way through a small movie collection in slim jewel cases until he finds their desired film. Then it's more quick motions until it's in the player, and he's definitely gripping the remote so the tremor in his hands isn't as obvious. He sniffs roughly and smudges the back of one hand over his face again, waiting for Shouto to respond, and realizing he's... watching him, and that he doesn't mind so much even if it makes him a little self-conscious.

"Um," his ears flush pink as he tries to work out his question, and he finally just reaches his arms out in front of him. "Can I hug you, I know that's weird but, you looked so shaken before, a-and, I guess that's something I've wanted to do for... a long time now."

He's no stranger anyway to the way it sometimes takes Izuku a minute to figure out exactly what he wants to say (or maybe it's that he knows what he wants to say, he just thinks too much about whether or not it's okay to say it, or about how exactly to say it, getting up the courage to say it--maybe all of these things at once, sometimes, and it's no wonder he gets overwhelmed) so he doesn't interrupt, or ask a leading question, or do anything at all, really, besides sit there and wait. And that looks like that might be the right thing to do, at least in this case, as Izuku finally says it.

There's no question at all about his answer. Is it weird? It might be, if you're not used to anyone asking that kind of question at all. It might be weird if you think that two guys aren't supposed to do things like that, if you think it's weird for friends to do things like that, but honestly Shouto's never had enough friends to develop those kinds of ideas and it has been a very, very long time since anyone has hugged him and he thinks that maybe Izuku might also need that hug and he thinks--

"I'd like that. A lot." The words are said almost without thinking, said to finish the wandering thoughts in his head, and he means them, one hundred percent. There's no self-consciousness in them, either. Izuku wants to hug him--has for a long time now, he says, and there's a strange, warm, almost dizzying feeling in his chest at that thought, something he'll ponder over later--and that's all he needs. But he should probably stand up, right? Not just keep sitting here? It'll be awkward for Izuku if he's standing and Shouto is sitting down, he's shorter but he'd still have to bend over a little, right? Right. He should move.

In probably the exact opposite of what Shouto was hoping to garner with his response, Izuku's eyes well right the fuck back up again with how immediate he is in not only conceding, but saying he'd like it. It wasn't something he allowed himself to think about very often, particularly because he feared it would get him teased, but he loved and even often craved physical contact, especially living away from his mother who so readily and regularly provided it.

He sucks in a sharp breath and surges forward before Shouto can decide if he's gonna get up or not, climbing onto the bed on his knees and reaching with his whole upper body, the rest of him following somewhat like an overused slinky. His arms wrap around Shouto's shoulders, his face pressing immediately into the hollow of his neck, and his legs shuffle along after so he's sitting side-saddle in his friend's lap, trying his best to be unobtrusive about it. His legs wind up folded at the knee and tucked against Shouto's thigh, and he just breathes for a moment, trying to keep somewhat level.

"...you're so warm."

Of course he's probably used to hiding things like that, especially with the way Bakugou treats him. If that's at all the kind of behavior he's used to from people, then of course he's going to be uncomfortable doing things like asking for hugs. He must trust me a lot to do this, Shouto suddenly thinks, and the warmth that spreads through him only increases as Izuku throws himself at him.

He doesn't even really have time to react. Suddenly there's a pair of surprisingly muscular arms around his neck, and Izuku's damp face is buried in the join of his shoulder, breath warm and tickling. His arms go around Izuku's waist as the other young man keeps moving in, until eventually they're settled with Izuku in his lap, curled up and pressed against him, and Shouto's arms are holding him close. Holding him. Because yeah, this might be a hug, but--it's more than that, isn't it? It's definitely more. And that's... that's okay.

At his words, one broad palm slides up the length of Izuku's spine, fingers tentatively sliding into his hair as he tilts his head slightly, burying his face in that soft, curly mess and breathing deeply. "So are you," he murmurs after a moment, and the words are bare inches from Izuku's ear.

It's surprisingly comfortable like this. He doesn't feel the urge to move at all, his fingers just slowly and carefully stroking through Izuku's hair. The movie can wait.

Shouto's breath at his ear causes an involuntary shudder to move from one end of Izuku's spine to the other, and he laughs quietly against his collarbone. "That tickles," he breathes, but stays put right where he is, tucked against the heterochromic hero. He's so... secure, and comfortable, and his hands are broad and gentle, and his stomach is squirming with butterflies from their contact and the sheer degree of good it feels.

He can't even wholly blame Bakugou for his skittish behavior, really. He didn't hold the other teen nearly as accountable for his actions as he should, but it just wasn't in his nature to resent anyone (except probably Endeavor, for his crimes against Shouto, and absolutely All For One, but those were separate matters). He knows, dully, that Katsuki's bullying most of their lives had been a hugely contributing factor to his overall concern when it came to how people perceived and reacted to him, but he was still not likely to ever blame him for it. And it didn't really matter now, anyway-- not when he could, even if it had taken him months, ask people like Shouto to help him make up for lost time.

He settles, closing his eyes and just breathing Shouto in, resting comfortably slotted to him like a tiny puzzle piece, and he's surprised by how secure it all feels. He didn't expect to feel unsafe in the care of a close friend as Shouto was, but the degree of safety he felt was startling nonetheless.

He can feel that shudder run up Izuku's spine, with his hands pressed as they are to his back; one flat against the space between his shoulder blades, the other cupping the back of his neck. He can feel it, and there's a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach at knowing he'd done that. A strange feeling, and maybe a little temptation to do it again, especially as he feels Izuku laugh against his collarbone, prompting a shiver of his own. He could do that again, breathe against Izuku's ear, whisper to him just what he's feeling...

But, he's not exactly sure that that's the right thing to do. In fact, probably not, considering how Izuku had even teared up at his agreement, so instead his arms just tighten a little more, and he smiles as he whispers into Izuku's hair. "Sorry." And then a moment later, or two, or three, or five: "I like the way you fit, here."

He hadn't exactly meant to say that one out loud. But then, this is astonishingly comfortable. Just sitting here, matching his breathing to Izuku's, gently stroking his back: he might be starting to drift, just a little.

Behind them, the movie has probably started playing, but Izuku, for one isn't hardly paying it any mind. He might shift to settle so it at least looks like he's watching it over his shoulder, but he's pretty wholly invested in focusing on his friend, instead. If he tilts his head just right, he can hear his heartbeat-- maybe a little quicker than would be normal, for them being at rest, but this is a sort of weird situation. Izuku's own heartbeat was certainly erratic, he wasn't about to fault Shouto for his.

"Mm, you're really comfy," he agrees, and a moment later the rest of Shouto's statement catches up with him, and his ears go red again. "...could probably stay fit here for a long time, actually. Stop apologizing." He closes his eyes over and just breathes, taking in the way Shouto smells-- a bit like ozone, but that specific almost sharp way that comes before snowfall, notes of fire, or maybe burning firewood, mixed in. His Quirk, he was sure, but underneath it was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but liked all the same. He shifted, unconsciously, probably dozing off himself, and tilted his head back enough to brush his lips against his friend's jawline. "I'm really glad you're here, Todoroki-kun."

Honestly, he's not paying much attention to the movie, either. How can he when his arms are full of Izuku, warm and solid and breathing slowly, even if his heartbeat is a little high? It's no different from Shouto's own, the feeling of his pulse in his throat as his palm slides down Izuku's spine, as he memorizes the feel of the boy in his arms.

"You should," he murmurs quietly, not quite drifting, but close to it. Should stay, he means. He can stay as long as he likes, and Shouto's other hand slides down to rest on his hip, keeping him close as they both sink into the dreamy silence.

Except--he doesn't exactly stay there. One moment, he's drifting, and the next...the next Izuku's lips are brushing his jaw, the sensation electric against his skin, and suddenly he's awake again, his heart pounding with... anticipation, maybe? After all, hadn't he been thinking earlier...but the action seems to have been almost unconscious, and Izuku looks so peaceful like this, so Shouto just wills his heartbeat to calm and slow. Tilting his head slightly, carefully, he places a very deliberate, feather-light kiss to Izuku's temple, letting his lips rest a moment as his eyes close.

"Mm. Me, too."

The only bad thing about all of this was that Izuku, for one, would probably struggle to remember this when he woke up. He'd think he'd just been dreaming, and be embarrassed, because dreaming about kissing your friends and being kissed back, even in as innocuous of a way as jawlines and temples, was absolutely not something he should be admitting to. As it stands, he just settles back against Shouto's collarbone, warm and comfortable fitted to him as he was.

Shouto doesn't remember falling asleep.

He remembers the warmth and the weight of Izuku in his arms and in his lap, a comforting presence after his tumultuous morning. Maybe this had all been a surprise. Maybe he wasn't expecting to suddenly realize that he didn't just feel friendly towards the boy he considered his best friend. But he's never been the kind of person to stew in denial and to try to ignore his feelings. He's always faced things head-on. And this...this was a good thing. A thing he wants.

He does remember kissing Izuku. He remembers being kissed. But he doesn't remember how they got here, exactly.

Not that he knows what here is, exactly, or where; he's still mostly asleep, warm and comfortable and happy. There's something solid and comfortable in his arms, and a smell that just makes him want to bury his face in it.

So that's what he does: eyes still closed, he buries his face in the back of Izuku's neck, taking a deep breath and hugging the other boy close to him.

Izuku absolutely doesn't remember falling asleep, seeing as he only barely remembers getting so comfortable in Shouto's lap that he could. But he wakes up in a fog, warm and comfortable and held fast to something warm and solid and burying itself in the back of his neck, and he makes a confused little chirp of a sound at that, turning his head and getting a face full of Todoroki Shouto's mismatched and startlingly silky hair.

...Huh.

It takes him about ten seconds to put together that he's hopelessly tangled in his friend's limbs and that freaking out about it is probably only going to tangle them further, but he can't quite figure how he got to this point. In his half-awake daze, he settles that he doesn't really care, because it's comfortable, but a more pressing part of his brain is rattling his heartbeat in his chest about it.

"Mmn, Todoroki-kun?"

Tangled is a good word for it. Shouto's got one arm pillowed under his head, and the other wrapped firmly around Izuku's waist; one bent knee is pressed to the back of the other young man's, while the other leg is wrapped around his, keeping his feet pinned. He's...well, clinging. Rather like an octopus, really. And he doesn't seem at all inclined to let go.

The sound of his name being called starts to penetrate the fog, but still doesn't get very far. He should probably answer, but words still require so much more than he wants to spend.

Instead, he makes a soft noise, a rumble deep in his throat, as he burrows in closer, lips pressed to the join of Izuku's shoulder and neck, his palm splayed flat against the other's stomach. He doesn't want to move, and he definitely doesn't want to wake up enough to remember he probably shouldn't be doing this.

Scratch this off the list of things Izuku never thought he'd wake up to. He makes another muffled sound, which becomes a startled squeak when Shouto's lips press to his neck, and he squirms in his hold. The hand on his stomach draws a startled gasp, and he wiggles his way to almost face him from his reacharound spooning.

"Todoroki-kun," he repeats, laughing quietly. "Wake up, you're too sleepy..." Gay panic would resume once he stopped being horribly charmed by Shouto's tired cuddling.

This time, his name being called is accompanied by the soft, warm, solid weight in his arms shifting and turning, which in turn calls for another one of those quiet noises in protest. It doesn't go far, at least; just turns, and finally, finally he decides he should probably wake up enough to see what's going on.

Those bicolored eyes part slowly, still hazy from sleep, to find Izuku's only bare inches from his own. Wait.

"Midoriya...?"

His voice is husky from sleep, a little confused, but there's still an affection in it that there's no hiding. As he slowly tries to pull his mind back from unconsciousness, he realizes he's holding Izuku, his arm still wrapped around the other young man. And yet...it's really comfortable, and he doesn't want to stop.

"...Guess we fell asleep?"

Oof, gay panic resumed in full force. How are his eyes so pretty, anyway? The scar on his left side really just makes the teal of his iris brighter, the greyish brown of the other softer in comparison, and Izuku's heart makes a wild bid to escape his chest by way of his mouth. He makes a strangled little chirp of a sound when Shouto groggily mumbles his name, heartbeat trapped in his throat like a tiny bird, beating its wings helplessly against the back of his tongue. He's by no means uncomfortable tangled up in the other, even if he can't remember how they got here hardly at all, but it's A Lot to suddenly wake up to.

He chews on his lower lip. "I don't even remember the weird song all Ariel's sisters sing at the beginning," he admits, but Todoroki is absolutely not imagining him squirming a little closer. Granted, it's in part because he's trying to hide the embarrassed pink darkening his face, but he's still absolutely ducking to hide against his collar again.

How had they gotten here, exactly? He'd been upset, and he'd run into Midoriya, and they'd gone to his room to hang out, and then Izuku had been crying, and--

They'd been holding hands. And then Izuku had asked to hug him, and he'd climbed into his lap, and it had been so comfortable...

It's okay if Izuku buries his face again, even if Shouto thinks his eyes are even prettier. All he does is slide a hand up the length of Izuku's back and down again, tracing the length of his spine, marveling a little both at the shape of the muscles and the fact that he's even here. That they're both here, this close, and it doesn't feel strange at all. In fact, he could just close his eyes and drift right back off, if he wanted to, and part of him really does.

Tucking his face down against Izuku's, Shouto breathes deeply, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck. "You fit like this, too," he says sleepily, and the words don't seem to sound strange at all. "I like it. I've never slept with anyone like this before." And yet, here they are.

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