Chapter Text
“You look like you hide the soft-boiled eggs you steal from hotel breakfast buffets in your underwear,” Bakugou sneers. He scratches a thin cut into his forehead when he tries to push away a lock of green hair falling into his eyes. Shouto elects not to mention it. He’s realized by now that it makes their friendship stronger in the long run.
“You look the love child of a porcelain doll collector and one of those men who sell knockoff watches in an alleyway,” Midoriya retorts. Blond is an odd color on him, especially when his eyebrows are still their signature green.
“I could literally use you as a toilet brush, you fucking upcycled silver-print-on-black-cardboard price tag.”
“Funny hearing that from the guy who got expelled from ventriloquist school for fourteen cases of suspected arson.”
“Go hide in your Endeavor-themed convertible and spit shine your cryptocurrency collection.”
“Do your grandparents know that you spent all your allowance on Gang Orca body pillows?”
They’re going on minute thirteen of this back-and-forth, and Shouto thinks he’ll have to go take lunch early if he has to listen to it for much longer. By now none of his sidekicks even bother trying to greet them. Their irritation with one another has almost physically manifested into a force field around their two uncomfortable plastic chairs that Midoriya dug out from somewhere in the darkest, dustiest corner of Shouto’s storage room.
The strange part is that neither of them have realized yet that there’s nothing preventing them from going their separate ways; Shouto assumes that the events of the past few days haven’t mentally worn off yet. He probably should have brought it up the moment they stormed into his agency, but it’s about six minutes too late to bring it up now without receiving a brainful of bizarre invective from Bakugou.
“What, you didn’t realize that backup drummers for dive bar techno polka bands don’t actually have any groupies?”
“That’s rich coming from the dumbass who chugged his mom’s entire bottle of fexofenadine before joyriding a mail truck straight into a pond.”
Shouto, sitting at his desk amidst a mountain of forms, raises his hand. “Can one of you go catch the-”
“Dibs,” Bakugou yells, and is out the door before Shouto can tell him where to go. It doesn’t matter. He didn’t have a call anyway. Bakugou will surely hurtle into something to occupy himself soon enough.
It only takes Midoriya twelve seconds to realize this fact, and he smiles sheepishly as he walks over to Shouto’s desk.
“Midoriya,” Shouto says, allowing a fraction of his headache to make itself evident in his voice. “I forgot for a little bit that you could be that vicious.”
Midoriya does at least look ashamed. He scratches at his blond spikes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Shouto-kun. He got me started, and then I couldn’t bring myself to stop.”
“Sometimes I think the closest thing either of you has to impulse control is each other, and then I realize that allowing that thought to come into existence was stupid of me.”
“A little bit,” Midoriya says, making a tiny pinching gesture. They smile at each other for a moment, before Midoriya gestures at the overflowing pile of paperwork on the desk.
“Want me to weed out the ones that a sidekick can sign off on?” He grins, knowing that Shouto still hasn’t completely let go of the notion that he should be responsible for each of the thousands of reports that come through his agency every month. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust his sidekicks; it’s just that they’re just as busy as he is, and he shouldn’t cast off work on his employees that he isn’t willing to do himself. But he and Midoriya are both working on that.
“That would be helpful, thanks.”
“Anytime!”
Their fingers brush against each other when Shouto hands a stack of paperwork over; Midoriya takes the chance to lightly squeeze Shouto’s hand before taking the forms and settling into a more comfortable seat next to Shouto’s desk.
He only has the chance to separate out three millimeter’s worth of forms before Bakugou cyclones back into the room like a flamethrower gone wild and howls a long, screeching mass of noise. He sounds like the animatronic pterodactyl at the science museum Shouto visited last month. This is also something that Shouto decides to keep to himself.
Midoriya regards this display of inhuman despair for a moment before comprehension lights his face. “Oh! Someone thought you were me, didn’t they?”
Bakugou howls again, and Shouto reaches across his desk to sweep all of his writing implements and his precious stapler into the drawer before Bakugou can get his hands on any of it.
They’ve been having a bit of a week.
--
On Monday, Shouto ran into the dynamic duo jumping down from a five story building hand in hand. They landed two meters from him with an impressive thump, and the resulting blast of wind almost knocked his file to the ground. Luckily, he had enough experience with an overexcited Inasa to retain his grip.
Unluckily, he forgot that it was a questionable idea to speak his mind when it came to these two as a paired set. “Is holding hands a new teamwork initiative?”
“My foot and your ass will start a new teamwork initiative if you don’t leave,” Bakugou snapped. Midoriya elbowed him under the ribs right afterward, and dragged Bakugou’s wheezing form along with him as he approached Shouto with a smile.
“Good morning, Shouto! How’s patrol going today?”
“Good. I’m doing some follow-up on the late night attacks that have been happening in this neighborhood,” Shouto responded, gesturing at the street with his papers.
“Oh, I might have some details on that; I’ll have someone send over the file later. Sounds like it might be more than just muggings?”
“It’s starting to look like some kind of quirk gang initiation, but we need to look deeper into it. I’ll take any information you’ve got.”
“Can you two reschedule your fucking PDA to a time when I’m not standing right here?” Bakugou grumbled, and Midoriya smiled at him like a kindergarten teacher might smile at a rowdy student before lifting their clasped hands and waving them at Shouto.
“Kacchan and I are bonding today!”
“That sounds fun,” Shouto replied, wondering what he would have to pay Bakugou for him to tolerate physical contact with Shouto. 5,000,000 yen? A few bags of spicy chips? A month of radio silence? Friendship was an endless and confusing road. But they said that you never knew until you tried, so he extended his left hand toward Bakugou’s empty right one and asked, “Should we bond too?”
Bakugou stared at him for a beat before turning to Midoriya to say, “Deku, tell your dimwit pilot-on-board flag boyfriend that I’m not holding your sweaty-ass hand because I want to.”
“Your hand is much sweatier than mine,” Midoriya countered, but he did turn back to Shouto to explain, “My hand is now magnetically attracted to Kacchan’s-”
“Never say my name and the word ‘attracted’ in the same sentence ever again.”
“-and the pull is very strong. It’s supposed to wear off soon, but until then, we’re making do.”
Shouto took the paperclip from his file folder and held it next to Midoriya’s hand; it stuck easily to his thumb after Shouto released it. Bakugou reached over and flicked it away before Midoriya could stop him.
“Hm,” Shouto said as he watched his paperclip fly into traffic. “Well, you two seem to have a solid handle on it so far. If you want, I can ask Ironsides if she can-”
Shouto didn’t get the chance to finish his offer before someone very large and very orange began thrashing around into a building two blocks away. He was about to take off in that direction to help when Midoriya said, “Sorry, you were in the middle of investigating when we interrupted you. We can go take care of that if you wanna continue here.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“It’ll be fine! I’ll throw him right over-”
“You can’t fucking throw me because I am glued to your hand, dipshit!”
“There’s nothing stopping me from throwing both of us,” Midoriya said as if it were a reasonable suggestion. “Or you from helping.”
“Fine,” Bakugou spat back, as if it were logical to agree. Maybe it was, and Shouto’s idea of normal had become warped over the years, but he suspected that he wasn’t the odd one here.
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea in your current condition,” Shouto mentioned, but Midoriya was already crouching into position, and Bakugou had his free hand extended and ready to blast.
“I’ll see you tonight! Good luck with the search!” Shouto didn’t even have time to lift his hand in a goodbye wave before they rocket-sprang away in a fiery arc across the sky.
The resulting burst of air from their takeoff ruffled the now loose papers in Shouto’s hand, and without his paperclip to hold them together, several sheets fluttered away, leaving Shouto scrambling to reorganize them in the wake of Bakugou and Midoriya’s departure.
--
Tuesday was even more of a headache, at least for them. Shouto was getting coffee at a stand with Sero when Midoriya skidded to a stop in front of them, out of breath and glancing around rapidly.
“Yo, Midoriya!” Sero greeted brightly, reaching out a hand to clap Midoriya on the back. “How’s it hanging?”
Midoriya grinned back in a way that looked both manic and exhausted. His words shot out faster than usual as he responded, “Sorry, Cellophane, I’ll catch up with you guys later! There’s a gas leak that’s about to happen two subway stops away, and I need some of your tape for it.”
“Uh, sure,” Sero said. He tugged out a few meters of tape and handed it over without question. Midoriya wrapped it loosely around his hand before stepping back like he was going to leap away.
But instead of leaving, he reached into one of his pockets to pull out a slip of paper which he handed to Sero.
“This is for Chargebolt when you see him later.”
“Okay,” Sero said gamely, accepting what looked to be a receipt for supplies at a home improvement store.
“Tell him it’s related to the Yamaka family kidnapping-”
“Shit, really?”
“-and that he’ll want to see if Emily is available for backup when he heads over with the police.”
“Um, I’d be happy to but can’t you tell him yourself?” Sero finally asked, his face spelling out the same confusion that Shouto was currently feeling.
“Sorry, I would if I had the time, but I know you’re going to see him at the Jedha parkway in an hour, so it’s more efficient for you to deliver the slip. Oh, don’t forget that there’s a back entrance to the seafood restaurant, okay? Make sure you get the people in the walk-in refrigerator too. And, Shouto, you’re going to get injured if you come in from the left side when you’re facing Noguchi later, so be careful. When you see Ingenium this afternoon, remind him to buy his mom flowers for her promotion.”
Midoriya spat all this information at twice his regular speed, so Shouto put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Given the weird nature of his comments and the urgency in his tone...
“Midoriya...are you stuck in a time loop?” It happened every so often, whenever known vigilante Tempus decided that something needed fixing by someone other than herself. Shouto himself hadn’t experienced it yet, but he had seen the toll it took on Yaoyorozu and Tokage three months ago. The sensation of never getting any rest and driving oneself to the limit trying to correct as many wrongs in a single day usually forced heroes to take a few days rest afterwards.
Midoriya groaned. “Sorry! I forget to tell you each time. Yes, I’m in a time loop and Kacchan is stuck with me, and yes, I think we know what the lynchpin event is. By the way, tell everyone not to buy lettuce today; they announce a recall on the evening news. Oh, and don’t forget to take in any laundry you leave outside; a drizzle starts up around 7:30 tonight. And please let Ketsubutsu know that-”
Bakugou rushed up in a flurry of sparks just then, already yanking Midoriya away. “Six minutes and twenty-two seconds, nerd; let’s move.”
Sero tried to greet him, raising a hand and getting as far as, “Hey, Bakugou, heard you guys were stuck in a-”
“Stuff it, no time, don’t try and swing from the pipe or you’ll get a shitton of lobsters everywhere,” Bakugou barked at him. “Deku, move.”
“Wait, I still have to tell them about the station renovations!”
“That can wait until tomorrow, you wet mothball! I’m not doing this for a thirteenth fucking time! Get your ass in gear!”
“But there’s one more-”
Bakugou extended his foot to kick Midoriya in the butt and out of the way. “Tell Asui not to waste time on the sinkhole; they need her more at the docks. And you,” he said, pointing at Shouto, “don’t let Kirishima donate any money to that damn underground hospital scam. He always falls for shit like that.” And without another word, he blasted away.
Sero held out a belated hand to try and delay his afterimage. “Wait, do you guys like need help or anything? We’re here for you too, you know!”
“The best thing you can do to help is just continue on your day! But thank you!” Midoriya shouted back after righting himself. “We’re going to have a perfect day this time! Good luck!” And then he too was gone.
“You too,” Sero replied to the dust clouds Midoriya left behind. “Lobsters, huh?” he said blankly, looking back at Shouto, who handed him his coffee order. He took a long sip even though it couldn't have cooled enough to be drinkable yet.
“I wouldn’t want them crawling everywhere,” Shouto said with a shrug as he prepared a message to Asui so he didn’t forget.
“You’re not wrong.”
That night, Midoriya showed up at Shouto’s place looking drained but triumphant. Without even a word, Shouto let him in and he immediately crashed into Shouto’s bed and finally fell asleep for the first time in almost two weeks.
--
Shouto thought they would be pleased to get to Wednesday, after reliving Tuesday twelve times in a row, but after Shiozaki dumped the two of them at his agency doorstep with a brief but flowery explanation that their souls had now become entwined, he wasn’t so sure. They would have been better off taking a sick day for once after their time loop, but of course neither of them did. Shiozaki’s explanation alone wasn’t enough to tell Shouto much about the problem, and with Midoriya and Bakugou talking over and around each other, it took about half an hour for him to work out the actual issue.
“You have a psychic connection,” he tried to confirm, and Bakugou tossed his plastic cup of water on him for his trouble. It was kind of hot in the office anyway, so Shouto just shook off what drops he could and froze the rest.
“Kacchan,” Midoriya began to reprimand, and then abruptly stopped talking for the first time since entering Shouto’s office. Bakugou fell silent as well, and they just sat there glaring very intensely into each other’s eyes.
Shouto looked away from their impromptu staring contest to search up their symptoms on the quirk database to see if there was any further information on how he could help. From what he understood, this quirk had rendered the two of them mutually telepathic with one another. Possibly empathetic as well, given the nine minute argument they just had over whether Izuku was allowed to feel so happy when hearing Kirishima’s voice over the phone.
Finally Bakugou broke eye contact to watch Shouto mark down a series of words on a notepad.
“Based on your symptoms and taking into account what I just read, the quirk affecting you could be one of two possibilities, if it’s registered. Can you look at my notepad here and try to transmit the words you see to Midoriya?” He angled his chair so that his paper could only be seen by Bakugou, whose lips pulled back as if he wanted to snarl out something rude but was refraining, possibly because someone else was scolding him in their shared brain space.
Midoriya, meanwhile, was boring a hole into Bakugou’s skull with the force of his stare, but he soon redirected his now softer gaze toward Shouto with a smile. “He’ll gladly do so.”
Shouto was almost impressed that Bakugou didn’t try and slap the notepad out of his hands in retaliation, because the way Bakugou’s fingers were twitching certainly wasn’t a positive indicator of his level of remaining patience.
“I’m sorry if my handwriting isn’t clear-”
“Your stupid fucking garbage-ass loop-de-loop squiggle-kana handwriting is fine, you expired berries and cream yogurt,” Bakugou grumbled at him in one uninterrupted breath at the same time that Midoriya said, “Wow, you really do come up with these right on the spot, don’t you? I guess I thought you, like, brainstormed insults in your downtime, but no, it just comes flowing right out like-”
“-like blood from the massive head wound I’m going to give you if you don’t shut the hell up and tell him what’s written on the goddamn paper!” Bakugou roared.
“I can’t both shut up and talk at the same- okay, okay,” Midoriya said, holding his hands up in a placating manner which only served to make Bakugou’s teeth grind harder. It was a miracle they hadn’t been ground down to sand already. Shouto made sure to keep the notepad turned away from him, but even without seeing it, Midoriya perfectly recited, “Eiffel Tower, Sailor Moon, extra spicy chicken instant noodles, platypus, Ms. Joke.”
“You got them all,” Shouto confirmed.
“Of course he got them all! I’m not fucking illiterate, you over-inflated-”
“-lovely, wonderful human being!” Midoriya said loudly, smiling at Shouto almost strongly enough to counteract the waves of palpable rage flowing out of Bakugou.
“Midoriya, how did Bakugou send the information over to you? Was it in images, or…?”
“It was like Kacchan was speaking directly into my brain.”
Right, then that leaves one option.
“Even the words I drew were transmitted to you by Bakugou via ‘speech,’” he explained, showing Midoriya the picture of Sailor Moon on his pad, “which means you’ve probably been hit with the Telecom type B quirk. That also means it isn’t going to wear off until the quirk user releases the two of you,” Shouto summarized as he glanced through the database article. Their simultaneous groans weren’t at all surprising.
“The asshole slipped away into the sewers,” Bakugou started.
“-while Vine and Kacchan were busy subduing the bigger threat,” Midoriya finished. “And I left to get some civilians out from under the rubble, so I don’t think either of us have a great lead on where he might’ve gone.”
Shouto nodded as he flipped through the preliminary report that Shiozaki’s office sent over. “We’ll see if anyone has any information, then. Meanwhile, do you two want to-”
“Yes, absolutely,” Midoriya said, interrupting him, and Shouto blinked in surprise.
“Can you read my mind too?”
“No, I just know you!” Midoriya’s smile was as bright as Bakugou’s shiny gnashing teeth, and Shouto walked them all over to the door so they could continue this conversation while doing something productive.
Their first order of business was to go buy lunch, since Shouto hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s instant noodles after his agency dealt with that quirk gang that had been terrorizing one of his usual patrol neighborhoods. For some reason they settled on hamburgers, and the process was more or less a smooth one until Shouto made the mistake of carrying the others’ orders to the table for them. Midoriya thanked him warmly as Shouto handed him his meal and Shouto smiled back until he heard the sound of a burger being dropped onto a tray.
“No,” Bakugou breathed, so quietly horrified that Shouto turned to ask him what was wrong, but he scuttled away out of reach. “No no no no absolutely not, you broccoli-top ice cube fucker, stop that right now,” he snarled, pointing at Midoriya, who just looked flustered.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it! Todoroki-kun is just too kind-”
“This is disgusting- it’s morally reprehensible- you are the worst person in existence, Deku- for Todoroki, seriously? You just- fuck!”
“It isn’t as if you weren’t aware of this, Kacchan.”
“‘Being aware’ is not the same as this bullshit- stop emoting so much, damn you! Can’t you tell I’m repressing here?!” Bakugou went through a violent shudder, as if he were physically ill and suffering from chills, but every time Shouto took a step closer to check on him he grew more disturbed and clambered across another table to escape.
“Do you need help, Bakugou? I know some massage techniques, if that would-”
“NO. STAY BACK.”
“Shouto-kun,” Izuku said mildly, putting an arm up to prevent Shouto from advancing any further. “It’s probably best if you don’t talk to him for a little while.”
“But he seems very unwell?”
“Ah. Well, with the bond...it turns out we share more than just our thoughts? I think we share our emotions as well, and since you and I- um, since I have...feelings for you, Kacchan is also experiencing those same...feelings...and I don’t think he’s particularly happy about it.”
Oh. Hm. Shouto looked over at Bakugou building a barricade in front of him out of chairs and took in the way he looked like he was about to begin hemorrhaging behind his eyeballs, and held out his arms. “Would a hug make you feel better?”
The shriek of pure agony that pierced the air made Shouto really appreciate the fact that they were eating outside.
Lunch passed as uneventfully as was possible given the circumstances, and by the time they had finished Shouto had gotten a ping from Utsushimi that she’d like totally seen a mega weirdo matching their description. They successfully left the burger place with no more damage than they had arrived to, and raced off in the direction that Utsushimi had pointed them.
“You don’t have to come with, Shouto-kun,” Midoriya yelled across the rooftop as they ran. “I know your agency’s been swamped recently.”
Bakugou made a derisive noise but kept whatever else he wanted to say to himself and Midoriya as Shouto told them, “That’s alright, we just wrapped up something pretty big, so I’ve given everyone a little down time while we follow up on all the loose ends. Besides, I think it might be good for you to get an extra pair of eyes on this guy.”
They found their man quickly enough, but he had linked up with some allies in the time since they’d last seen him, and were now apparently running a series of fairly successful smash and grabs down a high-end shopping street.
“First to three wins,” Bakugou said, and took off before anyone else could protest.
“It’s always a competition with him,” Izuku sighed, leaping toward the first person he saw with a weapon. Shouto didn’t get the chance to mention that no one fanned the flames of rivalry with Bakugou half as much as Midoriya did.
With Shouto following suit, it was quick work to handle the thieves, until a prison convoy was intentionally upended in the middle of the confusion and someone set fire to half the street. Then it became a slightly bigger production.
Shouto left the other two to handle the fleeing prisoners and screaming civilians while he worked on putting out the fire that covered the block. By the time he finished, almost all the rest of the commotion had been contained, minus one electrified bear-woman and an elastic fellow who was bounding around off buildings and cars. Shouto watched as he flung himself toward Bakugou, who launched away without even looking in his assailant’s direction. Without a word, Bakugou stuck out a hand to be grabbed by Midoriya, who swung him like a shotput right into the bear-woman.
Shouto had wondered if this telepathic connection would cause Bakugou and Midoriya to stumble over all the extra input they were receiving from one another, but they weren’t struggling at all. In fact, they were as in sync as ever, but now with an almost-prescience to their movements, dodging attacks out of their line of sight and remaining comfortably out of each other’s hair as they fought.
While waiting for them to deliver their now restrained culprits to the police, Shouto helped direct emergency services and civilians toward the appropriate places until Midoriya came jogging up. Bakugou was nowhere in sight.
“Did you get your guy?” Shouto asked him, looking up and down the street for their cranky friend.
“Yep! No more Kacchan in my head. Or on this street; he rode off with one of the patrol cars.”
“In a hurry to get back to work?”
“In a hurry to get away from me, probably,” Midoriya laughed.
“I can’t imagine the feeling,” Shouto said plainly, and if possible, Izuku brightened even further.
“Thank god we’re not linked anymore; Kacchan really wouldn’t want to hear what I’m thinking right now.”
Shouto found himself smiling back in response. As the two of them walked over to go debrief with the officers on scene, he hoped this would mark the end of their tortuous week.
--
On Thursday, two very familiar dogs hurtled through the doors of Shouto’s agency while trying to nip each other’s legs. The green and gold fur they left all over every surface was only the beginning of his troubles.
His reports on that day’s canine escapades comprised 259 pages in total.
--
Now it’s Friday, and their latest quirk debacle is this hair swap that leaves the two of them looking grotesquely familiar.
“I’m shaving it off,” Bakugou threatens as he stands on Shouto’s chair in the corner farthest from every other occupant of the room. In his hand is a pair of kiddie scissors, which doesn’t seem like the easiest shaving implement.
“Go right ahead,” Midoriya says. He’s leaning against Shouto’s desk, unimpressed. “It isn’t going to bring your hair back any sooner.”
“Yeah, but at least it’ll be hilarious.”
“You’re the one who’s going to be bald.” Midoriya rolls his eyes. Bakugou opens his mouth to respond and then snaps it closed when he can’t come up with a cutting enough retort.
“It’s supposed to grow back out like normal after a few months,” Shouto tries to reassure them, but Bakugou just makes another dreadful dinosaur noise.
“This is the worst fucking day of my life,” he mutters as he drops down to sit defeated in his chair.
“I thought the worst day of your life was that time your parents had us make White Day gifts together in second grade.”
“I can have a new worst day, you malfunctioning lint trap. It’s called character growth.”
“I don’t think it looks as bad as you think,” Shouto says, both to them and to himself. From their expressions, he doesn’t think they believe him. “You could go to the salon and get it dyed?”
Bakugou jabs a finger in Shouto’s direction. “Garbage ideas like this are why your sister is the only Todoroki with any goddamn sense.”
Shouto frowns. “Natsuo is-”
“Also stupid as hell. And it’s not just the color that’s the problem. I don’t want any part of Deku’s body as a part of my body.” This is punctuated with a rather disgusted gesture toward the mop of green on his head.
“Look, let’s just both shave,” Midoriya suggests, pushing himself off of Shouto’s desk. “Then you won’t have to worry about people mistaking me for you, either. You help me, and then I’ll help you.”
“You think I trust you with a pair of scissors?”
“No one uses scissors to shave, Kacchan!”
Shouto tunes out the next argument bubbling up between them and contacts the most suitable solution to this problem. Then he begins filling out another form. Only three hundred and nine left to go.
Shouto’s savior arrives with his usual high energy after about ten minutes.
“Hey, guys! Todoroki told me that- holy shit, look at you two- wait, let me- let me take a pic for Ashido-”
Everyone waits patiently for Kirishima’s laughing fit to subside. A few chuckles continue to escape him as Shouto explains the situation, but it isn’t long before they have some newspaper laid out on the ground and Kirishima is carefully shearing off locks of Bakugou’s green hair. He does Midoriya too, to be fair, and so that Shouto can actually complete some work for once.
Midoriya and Bakugou must be drained from this morning’s argument, because when Kirishima is finished, and they’re standing there, both bald as an egg, neither of them can scrounge up anything to snipe at the other. They actually don’t look half bad, but Shouto thinks that saying so might light a new fuse that he doesn’t want to put out.
“Well, considering how the rest of the week went, this wasn’t so bad,” Kirishima comments. “You both have, uh, new looks, but it’s better than when you were stuck together, right?”
“...yeah,” Bakugou finally concedes.
“Maybe you two should take the next two days off,” Kirishima says, but they both shoot down this suggestion.
“I haven’t been removed from active duty in over two months, Kirishima-kun; if I take a vacation now, you know they’ll be looking for any excuse to extend it!” Midoriya’s sidekicks are in active cahoots with the area hospitals to force Midoriya into bed rest at the slightest sign of injury or overwork.
“Hero rankings are coming out in three weeks; there’s no damn way I’m going to give Deku the chance to pull ahead now.” Ever since losing the number one spot at the last minute in the previous rankings, Bakugou has been paranoid that he’ll see another upset.
Kirishima looks over at Shouto, no doubt pleading with his eyes to help talk some sense into their wayward partners. Shouto meets his eyes and nods.
“Kirishima’s idea is a solid one. I’m going to be taking the next two days off, starting tonight. Actually, I think I’ll work from home for the rest of today; I trust you three can take care of this neighborhood.”
“Yeah, see, Todoroki- wait. Huh?” Kirishima blinks, stunned, as Shouto begins stuffing his entire pile of paperwork into his bag.
“Oh, good for you, Shouto-kun. I’ll see you on Monday, then! I’ve got my work cut out for me if I want to overtake Kacchan this weekend,” Midoriya says. He dashes over to give Shouto a kiss on the cheek, and then bursts out the door.
“Good luck,” Shouto tells Kirishima seriously as Bakugou drags him toward the door as well while growling about crushing Midoriya for good this year.
“Wait, are you seriously leaving me to handle these two alone?” Kirishima asks, one hand clinging desperately to the doorframe while the other is being tugged out of Shouto’s office and into his agency lobby.
“You have everyone’s number,” Shouto calls to him as his grip finally loosens, and he’s carted away. “Message the group chat if you need somebody. I’ll be back on Monday.”
“C’mon, Todoroki, you can’t…” But Shouto doesn’t catch the end of his sentence as Kirishima vanishes out the agency door.
With one more shove, he gets the remainder of his forms into his bag. After flicking off his office lights, he informs his team about his plan, knowing that they’ll handle any of the weekend’s problems without issue. They’re the best, after all. Anything that they think is beyond their paygrade, he tells them to pass on.
One of the top two heroes can take care of it.