Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all started with the annual Todoroki Christmas party, because of course it did . Allegedly, Touya had snuck him a solo cup spiked with liquor, and Shoto allegedly gulped down the whole thing— again, allegedly unaware of all its contents. The drink hadn’t tasted bitter like how he initially thought alcohol would taste. Nothing about the drink gave indication that it even had alcohol in it to begin with.

Regardless if he consented to a drink practically rationed 1:2 of actual punch and alcohol, Shoto was drunk. At least, he thought he was. Touya and Natsuo had informed him only after he finished the contents of his cup that they had snuck him some liquor for the hell of it. The funny thing was that he hadn’t felt the effects of the alcohol until after they told him. It was strange how intoxication worked.

By the time he had to head back to the dorms, Shoto was tripping over his own feet and clinging onto Touya, who couldn’t seem to stop laughing at God knows what. They made it to the front gates before his eldest brother realized he couldn’t just waltz into a maximum security school for heroes in training.

“Dude, gimme your phone.” Touya said, impatiently feeling around Shoto’s jeans for the device.

Shoto groaned, leaning heavily into his brother's side, and reached for his back pocket, nearly dropping the phone in the process.

Touya snatched it out of his hands. And Usually, that would bother him, because Shoto kept private things on his phone. Like all the corny unsent text messages he didn’t have the courage to actually send to Midoriya, favorited selfies of him and Midoriya— embarrassing little love notes he’d written for Midoriya when he was at his weakest point; 3 am. Regardless, his phone was private, and for him to be okay with Touya having access to it was enough proof that he really was drunk.

“No password?” Touya snickered. Shoto’s eyes fluttered shut. He wondered why he even needed his phone in the first place. “Alright, contacts… phone numbers… ah! There he is .”

After a few minutes of obvious texting — Shoto was too drunk to be bothered to find out who — Touya slipped the phone back into his pocket, and leaned him up against the wall, complaining about the pain he was feeling in his shoulder thanks to him.

Shoto merely groaned. He was oddly aware for a drunk person. Despite his eyes being shut, he could sense everything. Was that an effect of alcohol? Heightened senses?

“Todoroki-kun?”

Shoto’s eyes snapped open wide. Probably the widest they could go. He stared at Touya, who was grinning at Midoriya.

Midoriya!

“No.” He blurted, tripping over his feet to make himself look at least a little presentable. He stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on his face, but of course — of course — Midoriya was fast. He caught his forearm, his arm going around Shoto’s waist acting as a sort of brace.

“A-Are you okay? Touya-kun said you felt sick?” Midoriya’s voice was deliciously close to his ear.

Shoto could feel his face beginning to pulse. This was not good. This was really not good.

“Wh— where’s Touya?” The traitor.

“Oh,” Midoriya’s arm shifted around his waist. Shoto wanted to scream . “He left just now. He asked me to take you to your dorm. Do you need help walking?”

“Midoriya,” he slurred, suddenly feeling guilty. He was a fledgling hero and he had consumed alcohol under the legal age he was allowed to. He had broken the law. He couldn’t risk lying— Midoriya would figure it out sooner or later. He was smart like that. “Midoriya, I’m drunk.” 

He could feel Midoriya’s body flinch against his own. “Y-You— you’re what ?! But I— you don’t smell like… like alcohol.” He murmured towards the end of his sentence.

Shoto frowned. “Why would I smell like it? I drank it.” He patted his abdomen. “It’s here.”

He heard Midoriya choke, and he willed his eyelids open. They felt so heavy.

“O-Okay,” Midoriya finally said after a moment of brief deliberation. “Let’s head over to my room, then. It’s closer, and you need water.”

“Okay, I trust you.” Shoto mumbled, shutting his eyes again, burning the picture of Midoriya’s flushed cheeks and skirting eyes into his brain. Purposefully, he leaned closer into his side. 

“R-Right.” He said, tightening his grip around Shoto’s body and leading him through the gates of U.A.

It took about five minutes to get to Midoriya’s dorm, considering how strong he was without his quirk, it was a surprise they hadn’t gotten there in two.

Midoriya gently deposited him onto his bed, and Shoto was immediately bombarded with his scent. Midoriya’s room was saturated with his choice of shampoo; vanilla and strawberries. A pleasant scent. His bed was warm, and worn in, like he had been previously occupying it. Maybe he had. With that thought in mind, Shoto flipped onto his stomach and buried his face into the duvet, inhaling until his chest expanded to its fullest extent.

It was so deliciously Midoriya. He smelled wonderful. He was wonderful. He loved such a wonderful smelling boy.

“Todoroki-kun? Are you awake? I brought some water— a-and crackers! I, um, I actually don’t know what to do when someone’s drunk. I’m sorry if this doesn’t help.”

Shoto turned to face him, peeled his eyes open, and looked Midoriya right in his beautiful, lovely face. He gave no indication that he would be moving from the bed anytime soon. Midoriya must have taken it as a sign to walk closer to him, grabbing the chair at his desk and pulling it up beside the bed.

“Water?” He offered with a nervous smile.

Shoto sighed, completely enamored. Had Midoriya offered him anything with a smile like that he would have immediately accepted.

Shoto sat up — quite coordinated, might he add — swinging his legs off the side of the bed, and gratefully took the water bottle from Midoriya’s hands, cracking the lid open and taking a few small sips. He figured he’d be thirstier.

“So,” Midoriya said after he put down the bottle. “Um, how exactly did you get drunk? I thought you said you were going to a family Christmas party?”

Ever the investigator. It was a fleeting thought. A fond one, as well.

Shoto simply nodded. “I did. Touya put alcohol in my drink without telling me.”

Midoriya gasped, visibly upset. “Th-That’s awful! Do you feel sick? I-I could get you some pills.”

“No,” Shoto said quickly, grabbing onto his wrist when he had made a move to leave. “I feel fine. I feel better than fine, really. You always make me feel good, Midoriya.”

The aforementioned gradually turned a violent shade of red, his lips falling into a wobbly line and his body going absolutely rigid. Shoto let go of him, afraid he may have crossed a boundary suddenly touching him without his consent first.

“I—! Th-That’s—! A-Are you sure you don’t feel sick? Do you know how much alcohol was in the drink?”

Shoto deliberately blinked. “Um, no. It didn’t really smell like alcohol either. But after my brothers told me they spiked the drink, my body felt heavy and I couldn’t walk in a straight line. And I can’t seem to stop talking.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, taking in all the information he was provided in earnest. His hands were twitching, and Shoto could imagine that they longed for his notebook.

“That’s strange! I’ve never had alcohol before, so I don’t know how it feels to be drunk. Um, is it— is it bad?” He asked, his fingers fidgeting in his laps.

Shoto shook his head. “At first it was. I think it’s starting to wear off now, though. But I don’t think I’ll remember any of this in the morning.”

“Wah, really?” Midoriya frowned, his shoulders sagging. “I suppose that's the downside to getting drunk. Do you think you’ll ever do it again?”

Shoto huffed a fond smile. Midoriya could find a way to analyze anything, could he?

Flustered by the reaction, Midoriya’s face flushed a bright red, spreading down to his neck, and maybe even his shoulders.

“I-I’m sorry! Am I— annoying you? I know I’m asking a lot of questions— I-I just like— knowing stuff, I guess.” He floundered, his eyes going every which way and his hands making big, wild gestures. He was nervous. Had that been his doing? 

“You’re not annoying.” Shoto insisted, gently taking Midoriya’s wrist into his hands and bringing them back down towards his lap. “You know, I really like when you talk. I like your voice, and the things you say. It doesn’t matter what it is, I like hearing it. I like listening to you.”

Midoriya’s face was turning a light shade of purple; he was so red. Shoto was beginning to feel concerned. Maybe he’d said the wrong thing. Maybe he should just keep talking— in his drunken state, it seemed he had no filter. Strangely enough, that didn’t worry him.

“I like your voice, and your hands.” He squeezed around his fingers, and Midoriya let out the smallest squeak. “I like… your hair, and your eyes.” Both beautiful shades of green. The best shade of green, probably. “Your freckles are really cute.” He continued briefly. “Sometimes I count them when you’re not paying attention. Also, you have a really cute smile. And you always smell amazing. Is that weird to say?”

Midoriya’s shoulders were practically covering his ears, his eyes completely wide, and his body frozen in place. His chest was visibly heaving, and his hands were squeezing Shoto’s so tightly they’d gone white. 

“Are… you okay?” Shoto asked, now truly concerned.

As if snapping out of a trance, Midoriya quickly dropped his hands and twisted himself into a pretzel, letting out the softest wheeze of air in the process.

“Y-You—“ He whispered, his face hidden away behind his arms. “T-Todoroki-kun— whydidyousayallthat ?!”

Shoto inhaled, his heart suddenly racing in all his pulse points. Was the alcohol rushing back through his system? If he remembered correctly, Touya had referred to it as liquid courage . He wished he had more of it— he could feel the effects starting to wear off. His tongue felt like lead, and his throat was bone-dry. But he had to say this now— or he never would.

“Because I like you.”

Midoriya twisted himself tighter, his body trembling from the force of it.

“N-No you don’t.” He whispered, his ears were bright red. “T-Todoroki-kun— you don’t know wh-what you’re saying right now! M-Maybe you should drink some more water.”

Shoto frowned at the blunt accusation. “I don’t need water, I’m fine. And I know exactly what I’m saying. Midoriya, I like you.”

Suddenly, he untwisted himself, slapped his palms onto his thighs and desperately fixed a half hearted glare onto Shoto, his face and neck a vibrant shade of red.

“You’re d-drunk!” He warbled.

“Exactly.” Shoto huffed, his chest tightening. “If I weren’t, I’d never say something like that.”

Midoriya’s eyelashes fluttered, his face suddenly fracturing. Shoto quickly backtracked, realizing what he’d said and how it may have sounded. He grabbed his hands again, squeezing them tightly; reassuringly. 

“I only mean— because I won’t remember any of this. If you decide to reject me, I won’t remember. It’s better that way for the both of us. We can still be friends if I don’t remember. But believe me when I say my feelings for you are real.” He swallowed thickly, unable to meet his eyes. “I like you, Midoriya. A lot.”

A sharp intake of air was the only indication that he had heard him. 

“B-But— what if— what if I want you to remember?” Midoriya whispered, his shoulders hunching in on himself again, his eyes were squeezed shut. “What if… what if I didn’t r-reject you?”

Shoto’s eyes bulged, and his heart pounded, and his stomach quivered. It had to be the alcohol— he was fine a moment ago, but now— now it felt like his face might’ve melted off.

“Midoriya, do you… also…?” He muttered, unable to form a coherent response. Truthfully, his head was spinning.

Midoriya groaned weakly, moving to twist himself into another pretzel, but Shoto’s hands were unrelenting.

“I—!” He gasped, his face so red it was almost glowing. “I l-like you too, Todoroki-kun. A lot. And I want you to remember this— s-so I don’t have to say it again because this is really embarrassing!”

Shoto’s face was burning— and his palms were sweaty and his heart was beating too fast. This was definitely the alcohol’s doing. It had to be. The timing was awful— so, so awful. He wanted to tell Midoriya that his feelings were reciprocated a thousand times over. He wanted to hold him, and kiss him— his heart did another flip. 

“Midoriya, d-do you still have those pills?”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, suddenly worried again. “A-Are you okay?”

Shoto’s stomach churned.

“Actually, I feel a little sick.”

Midoriya shot up from his chair.

“I’ll be right back—?!”

Shoto didn’t relinquish the hold he had on him. Not yet. Midoriya stared down at him, obviously puzzled. Shoto pulled him closer by the drawstrings of his sweatpants, his ankles clashing against each other, nearly stumbling right into his chest. Midoriya’s hands perched on his shoulders; their faces were so close.

Shoto was drunk, and he didn’t want their first kiss to taste like alcohol. Midoriya deserved something special— not this .

He pressed his lips fleetingly to his left cheek, and pulled away quickly, his face and neck flaring up again. His lips were tingling, despite the odd sensation, it was welcomed. It was real.

Midoriya’s mouth was wobbly and his fingers ghosted against his cheek, touching the spot where Shoto’s lip had previously been. 

Shoto cleared his throat. It felt swollen.

“Th-Thank you, Midoriya.”

The boy startled at being acknowledged and nodded stiffly, his face and neck flushing with heat. He quickly left the room and bounded towards the kitchen, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated— but still so endearing.

Once he was sure he was out of hearing range, Shoto flopped backwards onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, uncomprehending of what he’d just done. If his heart could sing, it would be at that very moment.

He’d told Midoriya he liked him. And Midoriya liked him, too. And he wanted to remember this; with every fiber in his body, he wanted to remember.

His phone vibrated from his pocket. Shoto quickly reached for it, his movements suddenly much more coordinated.

It was a text from his brother.

Touya

Hey btw your drink didn’t have any alcohol. I just wanted to see how you’d react lol. Can’t believe you thought you were actually drunk

Shoto read the text again, and again, and again, until the words were scrambled and made absolutely zero sense.

Because if there actually hadn’t been any alcohol in his drink, then…

Shoto’s face blossomed with heat.

Then everything that had occurred in the past hour had been him. Everything he had told Midoriya— all him. He wasn’t under the influence of alcohol— he was— an idiot.

He would remember all of this for months, maybe even years. But the humiliation wasn’t even the worst part of it.

How was he supposed to tell Midoriya?