Glasses clink together and the dishwasher is running somewhere behind the bar. The music is just loud enough to be heard over the quiet hum of conversation coming from all directions and Shouto finds it comforting as he sips his beer and looks over the case report on the counter in front of him. The dim light is just enough to make out the words on the paper, but the letters blur in front of Shouto's eyes. Damn, he'd forgotten his glasses in the car.
He sets his half-finished pint on the bar and rubs at his eyes for a moment before getting up from his seat and heading out to grab them. He stops in his tracks at the sound of a gasp from behind him and then there's a voice he hasn't heard in two years, had hoped to never hear again, if he were being honest, calling out to him from the door.
"Todoroki Shouto, as I live and breathe." Shouto schools his expression into a blank stare before looking up to meet wide, emerald green eyes and a smile that somehow still manages to make Shouto's heart drop into his stomach.
"That's a strange thing to say, Midoriya" he gulps, hesitation laced under his usual monotone as he tries to be subtle about searching for an exit route.
Midoriya's smile dims just a little at the use of his family name, then, it's back and bright as ever. "It's an English phrase, Ocha's got me hooked on all these American dramas. It's a great distraction during midterms." Shouto's breath hitches minutely at the mention of Midoriya's wife. He really should just run for the door, he thinks, but the hope in Midoriya's eyes gives him pause and he finds himself responding as though he had never walked away.
"Midterms? Are you still over at Shiketsu?" Midoriya seems to take this as consent to step forward and join Shouto at the bar. Shouto flinches briefly and watches as Midoriya's grin falters.
"Sorry if I'm intruding. Are you busy? Were you leaving? I can go…" Shouto can't help but smile at Midoriya's rambling, same old Midoriya, then.
With a sigh, Shouto sits back down in his seat and gestures to the stool next to him, inviting Midoriya to join him. "No, it's alright," he says and hopes he won't regret it, "I left my glasses in the car. Sit, tell me about Shiketsu." Anything but your home life, probably perfect marriage, how good everything is without me in the picture to muck it up. He bites his tongue as the bitter feeling of jealousy coats his throat.
Midoriya's smile is back, though it's a little more subdued now. "Yuuei is great, I'm the Freshman homeroom teacher and I'm coaching the track team now. It's a lot of work, but I love the kids."
"I'm sure they love you, too," Shouto responds easily because it's true, Midoriya's spirit and determination are magnetic. The man next to him had largely been an inspiration for his own career.
"Well, I don't know about that. I hope they can at least retain something from my lessons, teaching is so much more than repeating facts." Izuku laughs a little as he turns toward Shouto and sets a bent elbow down on the bar. Resting his chin on his hand and looking at Shouto a little sheepishly, he continues, "Anyway, how are you? Finally get that PhD?"
"I did, yes…" and so it begins, or continues really, after a two-year long hiatus. Shouto finds their conversation as easy as they had always been, save the last one. Shouto tells Midoriya about finishing school, his dissertation, largely focused on the negative long-term effects of PTSD relating to childhood trauma. Midoriya lights up at that and Shouto listens as Midoriya ponders the implications of his research.
Shouto talks about his work as a social worker and child psychologist. He's passionate about what he does, the children he helps. It's an emotionally draining career, but it keeps him going and drowns out the emptiness of the rest of his life. He doesn't say as much to Midoriya.
In turn, Midoriya shares stories about teaching and coaching, tells Shouto about his students with a far-off, fond look in his eyes. He talks about his writing, slow-going, but he manages and knows it's going to be published someday. Midoriya gets lost on some tangent about how the school board had voted to cut funding for the theatre department again and Shouto is lost in his words, the brightness of his voice, and the blush on his cheek.
For a moment, everything is perfect, somehow it's slipped Shouto's mind that this was the first conversation the two of them had in ages, this wasn't a usual part of his life as it had once been before Shouto had made a mess and run away without trying to clean it up. Neither seem inclined to mention the night that he had disappeared or what it was that lead him to do so.
At some point shortly after Midoriya arrived, the bartender had come and taken his order. Midoriya ordered whatever Shouto was having and then ordered Shouto another. Shouto is generally a one-beer-to-relax kind of guy, but the alcohol calms his nerves. He finishes his first before the second arrives and then sips it greedily as warmth fills his chest.
They've been here for a few hours, lost in catching up and joking like they'd never stopped. The bartender has come and gone multiple times, always returning with another round.
Shouto is very suddenly aware that he's drunk when he leans into the arm he has propped on the table where his work had once been, put away hours ago in lieu of his current company. His realization comes as he's listening to Midoriya talk about his book, the same one he had been writing since they were eighteen and Midoriya's biggest dream had been broken with the sound of a loud crack that nobody had seen coming. Midoriya's face is mostly veiled in shadow, but a light from behind the bar shines in just the right direction to catch the green in Midoriya's eyes and the freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose, the blush on his right cheek.
It hits him the moment his mind fuzzes over and he almost almost leans across their laps and places his hand on the shining cheek. Midoriya doesn't notice as Shouto starts to lean forward and chooses that moment to lift his glass up to his lips with his left hand, his golden ring catching in the light and serving as a painful reminder that this is not a fantasy, that Midoriya is not his to touch and never really had been. Save for that one night.
Because he is drunk, Shouto yelps and leans far back in his stool, too far, and his stomach leaps into his chest as he tumbles backward, landing on his back with a resounding thud.
Midoriya, it seems, is also drunk. So he cries "Shouto!" in surprise and then attempts to help him, stumbling out of his seat and tripping over the fallen stool at his feet. Before either know what is happening, Midoriya lands on top of Shouto, knocking the wind from his chest and tangling their legs awkwardly with the bar stool. Shouto can feel Midoriya's breath on his face and wills himself to look up, a blush rising to his cheeks as he registers Midoriya's darkened gaze and the way he keeps glancing at Shouto's lips.
"Shouto, I…" Midoriya begins and for a moment Shouto entertains the idea of kissing Midoriya. It would be easy with so little space separating their lips. He could even chalk it up to an accident, maybe. Crazy things happen when you're drunk, like Midoriya lying on top of him in the middle of a bar, staring at him like he's a lake in the middle of the desert.
Before he can make up his mind, someone to his left clears their throat and he looks up to find the bartender already taking away their mostly full glasses and replacing them with water.
As if he has only just realized the precariousness of their predicament, Midoriya blushes deeply and squeaks as he scrambles to his feet and sloppily picks up the bar stool before reaching out his hand and helping Shouto to his feet. Once Shouto is up, Midoriya holds on for a moment too long, staring a little too hard at Shouto.
It's all so intense, the room is spinning and his stomach is starting to turn a little, but Midoriya's hand in his is as warm as the look in his eyes and he wants to savor the moment for as long as he can.
Too soon, the warmth is gone and Midoriya is leaning back on his heels and rubbing at the back of his head. An old habit he's apparently never bothered to break.
"Well, I should probably getting going.. ahhh" he cries as he loses his balance and starts to fall. Without a thought, Shouto lunges forward and catches Midoriya's arm, pulling him upright and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" He asks, surprised he has wits enough about him to form a coherent sentence.
"Y-yeah," Midoriya stutters as Shouto finally takes a step back, "sorry, I don't usually drink so much, I ah-guess I was nervous." He brings his hands to his mouth and the blush on his cheeks darkens in his attempt to explain himself, " I mean I just haven't seen you in forever and I didn't want to embarrass myself or say something that would make you leave again..."
"Midoriya," Shouto says, the words coming out muffled around his lazy tongue, "Me, too. I'm nervous, too."
The apologies stop at that and Midoriya looks at Shouto with surprise. "Oh," he says, "okay."
"Okay," Shouto nods and then looks around at the near-empty bar, surprised to see the clock on the wall read one.
"I really should be getting home, though." Midoriya says, but makes no move to leave.
Shouto merely nods, the contents of his stomach are rising in his throat and his tongue feels swollen in his mouth, he's sure if he opens it everything will come spilling out, especially the things he should absolutely not say right now. They stare at one another for a moment before the tension overwhelms him and Shouto turns to leave. The room spins around him. Neon lights and pool tables blur together in reds and deep greens as Shouto sways a little as he takes a step and then wills himself to take another.
He doesn't even make it to the door before there's a hand on his shoulder and Midoriya's concerned voice ringing in his ear. "Hey, you okay?"
Shouto tries to nod, but his brain is jelly and he can feel the sweat on his brow, his flushed cheeks. He tries to keep walking, but trips on air and nearly finds himself colliding with the floor again. The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip to steady Shouto and then Midoriya is right next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and propping him against his side. "Okayyyy, I think I'm going to help you get home," Midoriya says and Shouto doesn't have the coherency to argue.
"I'm gonna get an Uber, what's your address?" Midoriya asks as he reaches into his pocket for his phone.
The slur of sounds that come out of Shouto's mouth are definitely not words and his eyelids droop as he lets his weight rest on Midoriya.
Midoriya bites his lip and looks from his phone to Shouto and back again. He seems to make a decision as he stares at Shouto with resolve set in his eyes. "Okay, you can stay on my couch," he says, and, even through his drunken stupor, Shouto manages to look hesitant.
"It's okay," Midoriya says quiet and quick, like he shouldn't be saying it at all, "Ocha's at her parents, she's helping her Dad with a project. It's why I was at the bar actually, the house is too quiet these days."
This time, it isn't the alcohol that causes Shouto's stomach to turn. He knows this is a bad idea, especially now that Midoriya has confessed his wife's absence like Shouto's presence in their home is a secret. He's too drunk to say no to himself, though, so instead, he leans further into Midoriya and allows him to lead the way.
The inside of the car smells like artificial pine trees and the music is a little too loud, the bass reverberating in his eardrums and amplifying the pounding in his head. The warmth from the heater is suffocating and Shouto can't bring his heavy limbs to move, so he closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth. Someone reaches across him and rolls down his window; Midoriya, his mind supplies, though he doesn't bother to open his eyes.
The blast of fresh air is soothing on Shouto's flushed face and he turns toward the window, inhaling the cool breeze as he wills the sick in his stomach away.
"Almost there, Shou," Midoriya's words are slurred as they meet Shouto's ears. He isn't aware enough to be embarrassed about his current state, but it is nice to know he isn't the only one who's had too much.
Shouto has a vague awareness of the weight of Midoriya's hand in his as his thumb traces soothing circles over Shouto's knuckles. It doesn't mean anything, the words play on a loop in Shouto's head, over and over until they don't mean anything either.
Just as Shouto's thoughts begin to blur, their repetition lulling him to sleep, the car is pulling over and stopping in Midoriya's driveway. "Wait there," Midoriya says as he opens his door and tumbles out of the car, "I'll come help you."
Then, his door is opening and Midoriya is unbuckling him and pulling him out of the car with clumsy hands. This time, Midoriya wraps his arm around Shouto's waist and puts one of Shouto's arms around his own neck. With a bit of effort, they make it up the porch stairs and into the house.
When they get inside, Midoriya deposits Shouto on the couch and then runs off to find a pillow and blanket. If Shouto were present in this moment, he would be very uncomfortable sitting in the Midoriya's living room, staring up at Izuku and Ochaco's wedding photo. As it is, Shouto is still caught up in the feeling of Midoriya's strong arm around his waist, holding him close and tight and secure. Even after all this time, after everything that had happened, Midoriya is still Midoriya, and, apparently, Shouto's friend.
Yes, friend, Shouto thinks, nothing more. Be grateful he's that much after what you did.
Midoriya rushes back into the room before Shouto can follow that train of thought too far. He doesn't like to dwell on what happened, it's always been easier to keep his feelings at surface level when it comes to Midoriya, otherwise he's certain he would drown in the overwhelming current of his regrets.
"Here," Midoriya says, tossing his armful of bedclothes on the ground and picking up a pillow. He places it on the end of the couch and pats it smooth. "Lay down."
Shouto doesn't have to be told twice. The light of the room is blinding and his thoughts have taken a turn for the worse. Best to sleep it off.
As soon as his head hits the pillow, Shouto closes his eyes and allows his body to relax. He can feel Midoriya draping the blanket over him and Shouto curls into the warmth, already half asleep.
Maybe Midoriya thinks he is asleep, but Shouto doesn't stir when he feels a warm hand smoothing his too-long bangs out of his face, or dry lips brushing his forehead.
It's so brief that Shouto is almost sure he is dreaming, but somewhere far away he can hear Midoriya whispering, "I'm so glad I found you." Behind heavy eyelids, Shouto sees emerald green and fierce determination, a small, pleading smile and a crooked pinky. Midoriya has called the game and Shouto will always accept the challenge.
"Me, too." He whispers into the empty room as the sound of footsteps grows quieter and he finally succumbs to sleep.