hold the lonesome
May. 16th, 2023 07:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
softpunkstodoroki shouto/midoriya izuku // ~3k
> written for Icebreaker: A TodoDeku Pro-Hero Zine; SFW piece.
Despite its unassuming appearance, the vibrant violet string tied around Shouto and Midoriya’s wrists was sturdy like steel. It didn’t hurt, at the very least, but no matter how much they tugged their hands away, the string didn’t budge, the back of their wrists knocking together and skin growing warm with the prolonged contact. It had been ten minutes. Shouto didn’t remember the last time he touched someone for that long.
Their Quirks had no effect on the string. For a Quirk that was technically harmless, it manifested its strength in different ways. The intern that accidentally hit them with her Quirk would be effective in detainment, but that was only when she’d have a better grasp of controlling her power.
She was Bakugou’s intern, and Bakugou liked to keep all his interns away from Midoriya and Shouto lest they “corrupt” them—something he had yet to explain to this day—so Shouto didn’t know much about her, barely recalling her name. But he ran into all interns in the agency’s headquarters at some point, and she was no different until she tripped in the busy hallways and grabbed the closest things to her to steady herself, Quirk activating the moment her hands touched him and Midoriya, who were also trying to make their way through the crowded corridor.
She didn’t bind them together on purpose; she’d been terribly sorry for letting it happen to begin with. Shouto was only mildly exasperated with the situation, and even that waned in the face of Midoriya looking so concerned over her distress and reassuring it would be alright.
“I promise I’ll get someone to nullify the effects tomorrow,” she babbled. “God, thank you so much for not firing me for this; and for letting me tell Bakugou myself.”
“It’s fine,” Midoriya told her again. “At least there aren't any ill effects and it didn’t hit anyone else. If anyone can handle Quirk-related mishaps, no matter how innocent or dangerous, it’s us. Right, Todoroki?”
“Mhm,” was all Shouto could say, glancing at the door like it was a hint enough to Midoriya. Midoriya didn’t even look at him, but he did subtly reach for his phone to check the time with his free hand.
“You’re right,” the intern sniffled. “If it had to be anyone in this agency, at least it was two dating heroes.”
“What?” Shouto said.
“Oh,” Midoriya startled. “We’re not—”
They were interrupted by the intern’s phone buzzing, and before Shouto even realized it, she was checking the notification, telling them she had to go, shooting off one last apology, and taking off like enhanced speed had been her Quirk all along.
“What do you think that was about?” Shouto asked.
“I don’t know,” Midoriya shrugged. “Maybe it’s like that time when everyone thought we were dating Kacchan.”
It was because they shared an apartment space on top of setting up an agency together. The former stint didn’t last long—Bakugou moved out two months after, claiming Shouto and Midoriya were unbearable to have as roommates and he wanted his own independence. They let him go, even if they agreed they didn’t have any personal issues with Bakugou as roommates; it hadn’t affected anything about their relationship, and sometimes Shouto wondered if Bakugou’s complaints were really about anything they were doing to him so much as something else entirely.
“Maybe,” Shouto considered. He glanced back down at their hands, still conjoined. “What should we do about tonight?”
Midoriya had reasoned that even if their friends would understand if they canceled because of a Quirk-related mishap, it would be months before they got to see their friends again, and was it really such a big deal, the fact that they didn’t have proper access and use of their right and left hands because they were stuck together by the string, when they could still more or less do everything else normally?
“Not really,” Shouto relented, but he frowned at his right hand for forcing them to attend the dinner in their work clothes. Neither hero could get past the sleeves; they were still working on their coordination skills. “Are we going to tell them?”
“I don’t want to make it into a bigger deal than it already is. If they don’t ask, let’s not.”
“Okay,” Shouto agreed. He was more distracted with the way Midoriya toyed at his bottom lip as he spoke, a sign that he was mulling over something. “Maybe we should hold hands.”
“So it’d look less like this was happening against our will?”
Shouto figured the string tied around their wrists already gave that away, seeing as it was visible to everyone, but Midoriya’s reasoning beat Shouto. He said the real reason why was because holding hands while they were in this position made a lot more sense than letting their hands dangle in the air, unconsciously curled away from the other so that their knuckles were bumping but not entwining. “Yeah?”
Midoriya smiled like he thought it was a good idea too. The string, as tight it was, gave them enough room to twist their wrists so they could slide their hands together, palms pressed against one another, fingers interlocking.
For the first time, Shouto considered the idea that he might get sweaty palms and embarrass himself, before remembering he was holding Midoriya’s hand with his right. Somehow, that didn’t reassure him, but Midoriya was already using their new position to tug him along and resume their journey to the restaurant, so Shouto shoved his thoughts aside.
It was a nice night out, and it occurred to Shouto that the times the two of them had to enjoy them were getting scarcer the busier they became. Bakugou had never joined them for those outings to clear their heads and enjoy meandering around when they still lived together, so it became a thing between him and Midoriya. A part of him almost regretted the fact that they were spending the rare opportunity out to stay indoors, but it was also with friends, and the moment Midoriya’s face brightened as they stepped into the restaurant and spotted their friends clustered around a large table, Shouto realized coming here was still worth it.
No one had asked about the violet string wrapped against their skin, or the fact that they were holding hands. Shouto figured it was because they drew their own assumptions that it was a work-related incident. He wondered idly if they would’ve noticed anything amiss if the string was invisible to anyone but them. It wasn’t exactly odd for them to stick together in gatherings, no matter how familiar. Shouto always tended to gravitate towards Midoriya, sticking to his side simply because Midoriya was the first one who said he could stay there to begin with.
“You’ve been staring at that menu for ten minutes already, Midoriya,” Kaminari remarked, after they spent half an hour roaming about and making small talk with their classmates before finally settling into their seats, ready to order. “Why don’t you just order what Todoroki’s ordering, like always?”
“Like always?” Shouto echoed, but all Midoriya did was shoot Kaminari a strange look before looking at Shouto, who supplied: “I ordered gyudon.”
“Guess I’ll have that too then,” Midoriya told the waiter.
“You got the big size, Todoroki,” Yaoyorozu pointed out. “You never eat as much as Midoriya does.”
“It’s in case he wants some of mine,” Shouto reasoned. “Otherwise, we can just take it out and eat for tomorrow. It’s practical.”
“It’s routine,” Shinsou interjected, not looking up from his phone. “They’ve been doing domestic things for years. No point in questioning it now.”
Shouto didn’t react. It wasn’t unfamiliar for their friends to tease them about their closeness, and besides—he was more distracted with the realization that Midoriya’s hands had yet to sweat since they got in this mess. As surprising as it was, Shouto realized it was a good thing. Midoriya only sweat when he got nervous, and the fact that he hadn’t despite holding Shouto’s hand for so long meant that this didn’t make him feel that way. Shouto liked that. He never wanted Midoriya to feel skittish around him.
It was only when their food finally came that Midoriya turned to Shouto and said, “I don’t remember if you’re ambidextrous or not.”
“Not all of us are like you,” Shouto answered, which meant he wasn’t at all. “I could just ask Yaoyorozu to make a fork.”
“I used to spoon-feed you,” Midoriya said.
The tips of Shouto’s ears turned pink. “When we were in second year.”
“And all the times you’d get sick because you kept on working overtime,” Midoriya added, shaking his head. “You know it’s bad when even I wasn’t like that—”
“Hey, I know you two are one of those sappy couples who love each other a lot and like making a show of it, but you guys can’t hold hands if you want to eat,” Sero cut in, pointing at their plates. “Also, it’s getting cold.”
Shouto and Midoriya stopped talking, and slowly turned their heads to Sero. “We’re not dating,” said Shouto.
“Yeah, and my Quirk lets me fly.” Kaminari snorted. “Of course you two are! You don’t need to hide it from us, you know. We’ve known forever. Wasn’t that the point of the string and the hand holding—some kind of subtle sign to let us take the hint?”
“There is no hint,” Shouto said, eyebrows knitted together. “We’re holding hands because of a Quirk.”
“One of Bakugou’s interns did it to us,” Midoriya supplied. “By accident.”
“What do you mean, you’ve known forever?” Shouto asked.
“Well,” It was Yaoyorozu who spoke up. “You do share a lot of things, and you are always together even if you don’t need to be. Not to mention the fact that you live together. You even share the same room.”
“It’s a small space, and we shared it with Bakugou once too,” Shouto pointed out. “Don’t tell me you think we’re also dating Bakugou, of all people—”
“Of course not. But that was why he moved out in the first place.” She said it like it was something he already knew, except he didn’t. Shouto just stared at her, caught off guard.
“We’re not,” was all he could say.
Kirishima pointed to the string. “But—the string? Isn’t it one of those promise ones…?”
“Kirishima, that’s not a thing,” Midoriya finally said, looking insanely confused and a bit flustered. “The string’s what’s keeping us tied together. It’s not even real. Here.”
Midoriya lifted his arm—and in consequence, Shouto’s. They both hovered it above the table, letting Ochako, who sat across them, reach out to touch the string tying their wrists together. When her fingertips moved to brush against the thread, she passed through it, like it was an illusion. Without another word, they loosened their grip on one another to let Ochako grab each hand to try and tug them apart. Nothing budged.
“Wow, that’s a bit freaky,” she commented.
When she let go, Shouto and Midoriya lowered their hands without another word, but subtly entwined their fingers together again. It felt right. Shouto didn’t know why they did that, but Midoriya looked too distracted to bother explaining why. They’d done it under the table, but Ochako’s eyes narrowed like she caught the gesture anyway. “Are you sure you’re not dating now then?”
“You’re more talkative than you give yourself credit for,” Midoriya said. They were holding hands. Despite how the air was cool and they were alone, Midoriya’s palm had finally begun to sweat. Or maybe that had been happening even before, and Shouto simply hadn’t noticed it, vaguely more conscious of his own palm doing the same, even though that couldn’t happen. “I was just thinking.”
Shouto hummed, prompting Midoriya to continue, just as he slowly let his ice seep through his skin and cool their hands, enough so that the sweating would ease off.
“I—” He stopped and laughed. “How did you know I needed that?”
“I just do.”
“And you don’t think that’s weird.”
In Shouto’s hands was the takeout box with their half-finished gyudon. Neither of them had enough of an appetite to finish their own bowls, so they just shared a single one. Midoriya hadn’t spoon-fed him, but he did waste twenty minutes trying to teach Shouto how to use chopsticks to eat with his left hand. It was something Midoriya had to learn how to do when his Quirk used to injure him. In the end, Yaoyorozu just made them a fork, albeit with great reluctance. It had something to do with how endearing the scene had been, that she didn’t want to interrupt it.
“I think everyone thinks we’re already kind of weird, seeing as they all thought we were dating even though we weren’t. Is that what you’ve been thinking about the whole time?”
“More or less,” Midoriya confessed. “You don’t mind it, do you?”
“Not really,” Shouto said, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what he was answering. Having a boyfriend was the same thing as having a best friend, in his opinion, with some slight additional responsibilities. But he was a hero; he was used to responsibility, and he liked it best when it was a responsibility he shared with Midoriya. “I’m not really looking forward to the idea of sleeping in these clothes though.”
“Good thing the string will be gone by tomorrow then,” Midoriya said. “But even after that, Todoroki—would it be okay if we did this again sometime? The hand holding?”
Shouto glanced at him. Midoriya met his eyes—hopeful and nervous. There was no need for him to look so uncertain though. Shouto never wanted him to feel that way around him. “I’d prefer it if it wasn’t because of a Quirk next time,” he answered. “A date would be better.”
> written for Icebreaker: A TodoDeku Pro-Hero Zine; SFW piece.
Despite its unassuming appearance, the vibrant violet string tied around Shouto and Midoriya’s wrists was sturdy like steel. It didn’t hurt, at the very least, but no matter how much they tugged their hands away, the string didn’t budge, the back of their wrists knocking together and skin growing warm with the prolonged contact. It had been ten minutes. Shouto didn’t remember the last time he touched someone for that long.
Their Quirks had no effect on the string. For a Quirk that was technically harmless, it manifested its strength in different ways. The intern that accidentally hit them with her Quirk would be effective in detainment, but that was only when she’d have a better grasp of controlling her power.
She was Bakugou’s intern, and Bakugou liked to keep all his interns away from Midoriya and Shouto lest they “corrupt” them—something he had yet to explain to this day—so Shouto didn’t know much about her, barely recalling her name. But he ran into all interns in the agency’s headquarters at some point, and she was no different until she tripped in the busy hallways and grabbed the closest things to her to steady herself, Quirk activating the moment her hands touched him and Midoriya, who were also trying to make their way through the crowded corridor.
She didn’t bind them together on purpose; she’d been terribly sorry for letting it happen to begin with. Shouto was only mildly exasperated with the situation, and even that waned in the face of Midoriya looking so concerned over her distress and reassuring it would be alright.
“I promise I’ll get someone to nullify the effects tomorrow,” she babbled. “God, thank you so much for not firing me for this; and for letting me tell Bakugou myself.”
“It’s fine,” Midoriya told her again. “At least there aren't any ill effects and it didn’t hit anyone else. If anyone can handle Quirk-related mishaps, no matter how innocent or dangerous, it’s us. Right, Todoroki?”
“Mhm,” was all Shouto could say, glancing at the door like it was a hint enough to Midoriya. Midoriya didn’t even look at him, but he did subtly reach for his phone to check the time with his free hand.
“You’re right,” the intern sniffled. “If it had to be anyone in this agency, at least it was two dating heroes.”
“What?” Shouto said.
“Oh,” Midoriya startled. “We’re not—”
They were interrupted by the intern’s phone buzzing, and before Shouto even realized it, she was checking the notification, telling them she had to go, shooting off one last apology, and taking off like enhanced speed had been her Quirk all along.
“What do you think that was about?” Shouto asked.
“I don’t know,” Midoriya shrugged. “Maybe it’s like that time when everyone thought we were dating Kacchan.”
It was because they shared an apartment space on top of setting up an agency together. The former stint didn’t last long—Bakugou moved out two months after, claiming Shouto and Midoriya were unbearable to have as roommates and he wanted his own independence. They let him go, even if they agreed they didn’t have any personal issues with Bakugou as roommates; it hadn’t affected anything about their relationship, and sometimes Shouto wondered if Bakugou’s complaints were really about anything they were doing to him so much as something else entirely.
“Maybe,” Shouto considered. He glanced back down at their hands, still conjoined. “What should we do about tonight?”
==
In spite of their unexpected predicament, Shouto and Midoriya decided that they couldn’t cancel on their friends at the last minute and say they couldn’t make it. Yaoyorozu and Iida had been planning for a class reunion for months and finally settled on a time when almost everyone was free. Bakugou not being able to make it would’ve been unforgivable to the point where Kirishima would’ve had to drag his ass to the restaurant where they rented a function room for the night, but Bakugou wasn’t even in the country right now, and begrudgingly promised to make up for his absence by mailing everyone a souvenir by their doorstep.Midoriya had reasoned that even if their friends would understand if they canceled because of a Quirk-related mishap, it would be months before they got to see their friends again, and was it really such a big deal, the fact that they didn’t have proper access and use of their right and left hands because they were stuck together by the string, when they could still more or less do everything else normally?
“Not really,” Shouto relented, but he frowned at his right hand for forcing them to attend the dinner in their work clothes. Neither hero could get past the sleeves; they were still working on their coordination skills. “Are we going to tell them?”
“I don’t want to make it into a bigger deal than it already is. If they don’t ask, let’s not.”
“Okay,” Shouto agreed. He was more distracted with the way Midoriya toyed at his bottom lip as he spoke, a sign that he was mulling over something. “Maybe we should hold hands.”
“So it’d look less like this was happening against our will?”
Shouto figured the string tied around their wrists already gave that away, seeing as it was visible to everyone, but Midoriya’s reasoning beat Shouto. He said the real reason why was because holding hands while they were in this position made a lot more sense than letting their hands dangle in the air, unconsciously curled away from the other so that their knuckles were bumping but not entwining. “Yeah?”
Midoriya smiled like he thought it was a good idea too. The string, as tight it was, gave them enough room to twist their wrists so they could slide their hands together, palms pressed against one another, fingers interlocking.
For the first time, Shouto considered the idea that he might get sweaty palms and embarrass himself, before remembering he was holding Midoriya’s hand with his right. Somehow, that didn’t reassure him, but Midoriya was already using their new position to tug him along and resume their journey to the restaurant, so Shouto shoved his thoughts aside.
It was a nice night out, and it occurred to Shouto that the times the two of them had to enjoy them were getting scarcer the busier they became. Bakugou had never joined them for those outings to clear their heads and enjoy meandering around when they still lived together, so it became a thing between him and Midoriya. A part of him almost regretted the fact that they were spending the rare opportunity out to stay indoors, but it was also with friends, and the moment Midoriya’s face brightened as they stepped into the restaurant and spotted their friends clustered around a large table, Shouto realized coming here was still worth it.
No one had asked about the violet string wrapped against their skin, or the fact that they were holding hands. Shouto figured it was because they drew their own assumptions that it was a work-related incident. He wondered idly if they would’ve noticed anything amiss if the string was invisible to anyone but them. It wasn’t exactly odd for them to stick together in gatherings, no matter how familiar. Shouto always tended to gravitate towards Midoriya, sticking to his side simply because Midoriya was the first one who said he could stay there to begin with.
“You’ve been staring at that menu for ten minutes already, Midoriya,” Kaminari remarked, after they spent half an hour roaming about and making small talk with their classmates before finally settling into their seats, ready to order. “Why don’t you just order what Todoroki’s ordering, like always?”
“Like always?” Shouto echoed, but all Midoriya did was shoot Kaminari a strange look before looking at Shouto, who supplied: “I ordered gyudon.”
“Guess I’ll have that too then,” Midoriya told the waiter.
“You got the big size, Todoroki,” Yaoyorozu pointed out. “You never eat as much as Midoriya does.”
“It’s in case he wants some of mine,” Shouto reasoned. “Otherwise, we can just take it out and eat for tomorrow. It’s practical.”
“It’s routine,” Shinsou interjected, not looking up from his phone. “They’ve been doing domestic things for years. No point in questioning it now.”
Shouto didn’t react. It wasn’t unfamiliar for their friends to tease them about their closeness, and besides—he was more distracted with the realization that Midoriya’s hands had yet to sweat since they got in this mess. As surprising as it was, Shouto realized it was a good thing. Midoriya only sweat when he got nervous, and the fact that he hadn’t despite holding Shouto’s hand for so long meant that this didn’t make him feel that way. Shouto liked that. He never wanted Midoriya to feel skittish around him.
It was only when their food finally came that Midoriya turned to Shouto and said, “I don’t remember if you’re ambidextrous or not.”
“Not all of us are like you,” Shouto answered, which meant he wasn’t at all. “I could just ask Yaoyorozu to make a fork.”
“I used to spoon-feed you,” Midoriya said.
The tips of Shouto’s ears turned pink. “When we were in second year.”
“And all the times you’d get sick because you kept on working overtime,” Midoriya added, shaking his head. “You know it’s bad when even I wasn’t like that—”
“Hey, I know you two are one of those sappy couples who love each other a lot and like making a show of it, but you guys can’t hold hands if you want to eat,” Sero cut in, pointing at their plates. “Also, it’s getting cold.”
Shouto and Midoriya stopped talking, and slowly turned their heads to Sero. “We’re not dating,” said Shouto.
“Yeah, and my Quirk lets me fly.” Kaminari snorted. “Of course you two are! You don’t need to hide it from us, you know. We’ve known forever. Wasn’t that the point of the string and the hand holding—some kind of subtle sign to let us take the hint?”
“There is no hint,” Shouto said, eyebrows knitted together. “We’re holding hands because of a Quirk.”
“One of Bakugou’s interns did it to us,” Midoriya supplied. “By accident.”
“What do you mean, you’ve known forever?” Shouto asked.
“Well,” It was Yaoyorozu who spoke up. “You do share a lot of things, and you are always together even if you don’t need to be. Not to mention the fact that you live together. You even share the same room.”
“It’s a small space, and we shared it with Bakugou once too,” Shouto pointed out. “Don’t tell me you think we’re also dating Bakugou, of all people—”
“Of course not. But that was why he moved out in the first place.” She said it like it was something he already knew, except he didn’t. Shouto just stared at her, caught off guard.
“We’re not,” was all he could say.
Kirishima pointed to the string. “But—the string? Isn’t it one of those promise ones…?”
“Kirishima, that’s not a thing,” Midoriya finally said, looking insanely confused and a bit flustered. “The string’s what’s keeping us tied together. It’s not even real. Here.”
Midoriya lifted his arm—and in consequence, Shouto’s. They both hovered it above the table, letting Ochako, who sat across them, reach out to touch the string tying their wrists together. When her fingertips moved to brush against the thread, she passed through it, like it was an illusion. Without another word, they loosened their grip on one another to let Ochako grab each hand to try and tug them apart. Nothing budged.
“Wow, that’s a bit freaky,” she commented.
When she let go, Shouto and Midoriya lowered their hands without another word, but subtly entwined their fingers together again. It felt right. Shouto didn’t know why they did that, but Midoriya looked too distracted to bother explaining why. They’d done it under the table, but Ochako’s eyes narrowed like she caught the gesture anyway. “Are you sure you’re not dating now then?”
==
“You got quiet for the rest of the evening,” Shouto mentioned an hour after they left the restaurant. It was a few minutes past midnight—they had left later than intended, but they still chose to take a stroll down the streets with a longer route, as if reluctant to head home. Shouto was more than okay with letting Midoriya take the lead; he wanted to enjoy the night air anyway. “I thought that was my job.”“You’re more talkative than you give yourself credit for,” Midoriya said. They were holding hands. Despite how the air was cool and they were alone, Midoriya’s palm had finally begun to sweat. Or maybe that had been happening even before, and Shouto simply hadn’t noticed it, vaguely more conscious of his own palm doing the same, even though that couldn’t happen. “I was just thinking.”
Shouto hummed, prompting Midoriya to continue, just as he slowly let his ice seep through his skin and cool their hands, enough so that the sweating would ease off.
“I—” He stopped and laughed. “How did you know I needed that?”
“I just do.”
“And you don’t think that’s weird.”
In Shouto’s hands was the takeout box with their half-finished gyudon. Neither of them had enough of an appetite to finish their own bowls, so they just shared a single one. Midoriya hadn’t spoon-fed him, but he did waste twenty minutes trying to teach Shouto how to use chopsticks to eat with his left hand. It was something Midoriya had to learn how to do when his Quirk used to injure him. In the end, Yaoyorozu just made them a fork, albeit with great reluctance. It had something to do with how endearing the scene had been, that she didn’t want to interrupt it.
“I think everyone thinks we’re already kind of weird, seeing as they all thought we were dating even though we weren’t. Is that what you’ve been thinking about the whole time?”
“More or less,” Midoriya confessed. “You don’t mind it, do you?”
“Not really,” Shouto said, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what he was answering. Having a boyfriend was the same thing as having a best friend, in his opinion, with some slight additional responsibilities. But he was a hero; he was used to responsibility, and he liked it best when it was a responsibility he shared with Midoriya. “I’m not really looking forward to the idea of sleeping in these clothes though.”
“Good thing the string will be gone by tomorrow then,” Midoriya said. “But even after that, Todoroki—would it be okay if we did this again sometime? The hand holding?”
Shouto glanced at him. Midoriya met his eyes—hopeful and nervous. There was no need for him to look so uncertain though. Shouto never wanted him to feel that way around him. “I’d prefer it if it wasn’t because of a Quirk next time,” he answered. “A date would be better.”