Work Text:
“Midoriya, tha–”
Midoriya’s laugh interrupted Shouto’s voiced gratitude as the freckled man shook his head. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, Todoroki-san. You’re here on your merit alone,” Midoriya assured him, not for the first time, though no exasperation could be inferred in his words.
“It was still your recommendation that brought my resume up, though,” Shouto argued, also not for the first time.
Both friends came to yet another stalemate, Midoriya simply smiling in response to Shouto’s counter and Shouto not pushing for a verbal follow-up.
“Let me know how orientation goes at lunch,” Midoriya requested, branching off from Shouto’s side as the elevator doors opened into the fifth-floor lobby of Plus Ultra Publications. “I’ll meet you here.”
Shouto nodded in agreement and raised his hand in a small wave as Midoriya used the keycard around his neck to enter through the glass doors behind the check-in desk and then veered to the right, toward what Shouto assumed was the offices of the One For All imprint.
Manning the desk in front of Shouto was a young-looking woman with dark eyes but a welcoming smile. Shouto checked his phone, rereading the email that listed his first-day schedule, and then glanced back up and approached.
He took a deep breath before asking, “Are you Kurose-san?”
“Yes!” Kurose confirmed, gaze flitting up and down Shouto once, taking in what Shouto referred to as one of his casual suits: a gray suit jacket over a crisp white button-up and matching gray slacks. No tie, and top button undone, because Midoriya had assured Shouto that the office adopted a “business casual” mindset, proven to Shouto when his friend had greeted him at the front doors to the office earlier that morning wearing dark-wash jeans and a short-sleeve button-up.
“My name is Todoroki Shouto. It’s my,” Shouto stumbled over his words, catching his reflection in the glass doors, “my first day.”
Kurose’s eyes widened a pinch, maybe recognizing Shouto’s surname, maybe just registering his facial scar, or maybe because she had forgotten she was to greet the new hire. Whichever the case, she didn’t give it away when responding, “Ah, great! Give me just one moment. Can I see your ID?”
Shouto handed over his ID a second later, already prepared and having pulled it out of his wallet beforehand. All of his other relevant documents were tucked away in his over-the-shoulder bag to hand off to the HR rep when he met them later that morning to finalize the hiring paperwork.
Kurose examined his ID for a long moment before handing it back and then consulting her computer. After another moment where Shouto was left to fidget, unsure if he could put his ID away or not, she turned back to him with that same comforting smile. “You’re right on time! I’ll page your manager. They’re probably the one who’s supposed to meet you this morning, right?”
“Yes,” Shouto agreed, because that was indeed what the email said. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”
“Alright,” Kurose said over the clacking of keyboard keys. “He said he’d be right on over. Let me grab you your badge,” she added, standing from her seat and shuffling over to the filing cabinets stacked up behind her. “After today, you can use it to get past these doors, just hold it over the sensor,” she indicated to it with the flick of a finger. “You’ll only have to check in with me if you have a guest coming or you need something from me.”
Shouto nodded and then, a beat later, verbally assented when he realized that she had no way of seeing his motion with her back to him.
When she turned back around, she passed him a lanyard just like the one Midoriya had, attached to a nondescript white card with a black bar running along the bottom of the back, the flip side boasting the company’s logo and his name and employee number inked in in the bottom right corner. Shouto exhaled in relief at knowing he had somehow dodged having a photo on his ID. He’d never been a fan of people taking his picture. They always turned out off. Not bad, just not right.
Movement behind the glass doors caught both of their attentions, and a tall and lanky purple-haired man strolled through, propping the door open with one foot as he regarded Shouto. “Todoroki?” Shouto nodded. “Good to meet you. I’m Shinsou. I’ll take it from here Kurose-san,” Shinsou directed toward the woman who offered a single thumbs up before returning back to her seat.
Shouto followed Shinsou past the doors and to the left, the hallway opening into a boisterous office space filled with bookshelves and seemingly randomly scattered lounge chairs, broken into sections by false cubicle walls.
Shinsou talked sparingly as he walked, pointing out where the bathrooms, mail room, supply closet, and kitchen were before stopping at a block of eight desks split into two groups. Half of the desks were occupied by concentrating employees with disheveled hair. One long, dark haired figure was slumped fully over their desk, laptop pushed to the side. Shouto started counting the coffee cups and mugs at each of the occupied stations and then stopped when he crossed ten.
“Sensei!” Shinsou snapped, startling not only Shouto but also everyone around them. But his focus was on the sleeping one who lifted their head very slowly before regarding first Shouto and then Shinsou with narrowed red-rimmed eyes. “Meet the new assistant.”
Shouto ducked into a bow and received some mumbled greetings from the group before they turned back to their work. “Sensei” narrowed his eyes in a glare, but Shinsou didn’t seem intimidated. Shouto wondered how long the man had been working here to be so accustomed.
“This is Aizawa Shouta,” Shinsou introduced to Shouto when it became clear the other man would not do it himself. “He’s the editorial director for Erasure. You’ll be reporting to both me and him. But it’s safer to just report to me until he gets used to you.”
If Shouto was one to show his surprise on his face, he would have. Something must have flickered in his expression enough, however, to cause Shinsou to smirk and huff out a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed to the unstated.
“You used to be an editor at Endeavor,” Aizawa said out of nowhere, drawing the attention of more than a few people. He waved a sheet of paper in his hand which must have been Shouto’s resume.
“Wait, really?” Shinsou asked, turning to Shouto. “You’re coming from Classics translation to manga?”
Shouto hesitated only a second before nodding. “Yes. I like manga.”
Shinsou snorted a laugh. “Well good, because you’ll be seeing so much of it your eyes will just about melt out of your face.”
“Editor to assistant,” Aizawa spoke up again, his unimpressed stare now trained on Shouto. “That’s a demotion.”
“I am aware,” Shouto countered, hoping the strain didn’t register in his voice.
“And you understand you are the least significant member of this team.”
Shouty nodded tersely.
“There is no delegation for you,” Azawad doubled-down. “We’ve no interns, even if we had the budget to hire any. You are willing to do the basic tasks?”
“Yes, sir.”
Shinsou clapped a hand on Shouto’s shoulder, causing him to flinch at the sudden action, and leaned closer to whisper, back turned so that Aizawa couldn’t read his lips, “Aizawa is very protective of the work we do. He built this imprint from the ground up and the seven of us,” he nodded his head toward the desks, “work our asses off to keep it going. That’s why we call him Sensei. He’s not–”
“Hitoshi.”
Shinso sighed and stepped back from Shouto, hand falling back to his side. Aizawa’s voice seemed to reset the tone of the room, and everyone relaxed.
Aizawa pointed to the first desk in the row he sat at, across and one down from his. The space was empty except for a monitor and an ethernet cable. “That’s yours. Once you finish up with HR, go see Kaminari in IT and he’ll get you set up with a computer. You’ll be doing a lot of hands-on work with us here, though, so the computer is a privilege, not a necessity. Don’t try my patience.”
Shouto wondered if Aizawa had ever met his father. It would explain why he had such a bad impression of him. It would certainly explain why he had to give a warning not to “try his patience,” something the eldest Todoroki was fond of doing.
“Understood, Sensei.” Shouto had no plans to piss off his boss ever, let alone within the first thirty minutes of his first day.
Aizawa and Shinsou might see his resume and expect him to feel like he was on the same level as them just because of his past experience. But Shouto was used to being pushed around. And though he wouldn’t let that happen here or to him ever again anywhere, he was more than content to be the one assigned the menial tasks.
He hadn’t said it in his interview, not wanting to risk the recommendation Midoriya had gotten for him or his chance at the position, but Erasure published some of his favorite manga from the past few years. They were always action-packed and exciting, but Shouto’s favorite thing was that it was clear that every mangaka was a skilled and intricate artist. There was never a spread that didn’t make Shouto’s breath catch.
Anything he could do to bring such artistry to life, he would do it, even if it was an underwhelming job (in the eyes of society) for a twenty-six year old.
The rest of the morning was filled with more introductions: Shouto meeting the rest of his co-workers, including the other assistant, strictly editorial, who literally went by the nickname “Manga,” spending a boring twenty minutes filling out paperwork, spending a far less boring twenty minutes getting his laptop set up by the very boisterous IT tech who kept asking about Shinsou, and then finally getting an official tour of the entire office. He spotted Midoriya’s signature green curls as he quickly was led through the other imprints’ offices, and was looking forward to getting the inside company details over lunch.
But before that, he had actual work to get started on, and he was already assigned several tasks including organizing files on the Erasure server and in the physical filing cabinets and prepping mailings to send for promotional and production needs.
“I showed you the supply closet,” Shinsou was saying, and Shouto hummed in assent. “You can find jiffies in there. There’s several sizes. If it’s a mailing of several volumes, go for a box instead, they are in there as well. Use the brown wet tape for any boxes, and that is in the mail room next to where you’ll leave the packages. Sero will let you know which packages go where for each courier service. And there’s packing paper in there as well, so any books going in boxes, use the paper to protect them. If you need lots of labels, talk to him.”
“Sero?” Shouto asked, mind half on the stack of galley copies of the sixth volume of a fantasy series that were to be sent out to the press but were currently taking up all of his desk space, counting the stack to see how many envelopes he’d need. Also, wet tape?
“He runs the mail room, basically. Get on his good side because you’ll be seeing him every day. He’s a chill guy, though, so it’s easy to get on with him.”
“Understood.”
Shouto carefully penned addresses on the fronts of two dozen yellow padded jiffies before slipping an advance reader copy into each and sealing them. He piled them all into a box for easier transport and then took a deep breath before picking it up into his hands and navigating, half blind, through the hall toward the mail room.
During his tour earlier he’d been shown the mail room at a glance, but it had been silent and empty, and hadn’t been much to look at. Now there was a soft melody playing that reached Shouto’s ears as he stepped blindly through the open doorway.
“Woah!” a voice said, momentarily drowning out the music with their exclamation, and Shouto’s load was lightened significantly a second later. The box was lifted from his grip entirely and set on a table next to him that Shouto had failed to spot before. Without the jiffies to obscure his view, Shouto could now see his helper was the same height as him, but that was where their similarities stopped. He had dark hair, long, but not as long as Aizawa’s, tied back from his neck by a rubber band. Strong arms framed a slim torso covered by a yellow and black striped hoodie, sleeves rolled up to expose his elbows.
Shouto forced himself to stop analyzing the stranger who was very likely Sero, the mail room guy he was supposed to get to like him. Shouto usually had a fifty/fifty shot, with his personality, but he knew that staring at a man for too long usually tipped those scales, and not in his favor.
“Thank you,” Shouto said. “I’m new here. Todoroki Shouto.”
“Happy first day! Sero Hanta,” Sero pointed at himself with a thumb to the chest. “Welcome to the mail room. What department are you?”
“I assist the Erasure imprint.”
“That’s awesome!” Sero’s interested expression and genuine smile gave Shouto the hit he could completely relax. “I have to say, that’s a major benefit to working at a place like this. I get early copies of my favorite manga. Erasure has some of the best stuff on the market right now.”
“I agree,” Shouto blurted, surprising himself. He’d never spoken to anyone who so directly enjoyed the same manga as him. “It’s doubly impressive the popularity of it considering none of it gets serialized so there isn’t the weekly reminder of its existence and fans have to wait months for a continuation.”
A lazy grin worked its way across Sero’s face as Shouto spoke, the other man’s gaze darting down and up, blatantly assessing Shouto in his entirety.
“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” Sero drawled. “I think there’s a fair number of people who prefer waiting for the moment. Lets the excitement build, the buzz takes on a life of its own. I guess I don’t see it from a marketing standpoint like you do, though.” Sero laughed, and Shouto noticed the cute way his nose scrunched up ever so slightly as he did. “Slowburn is pretty popular, at least in the shojo I’ve read.”
He’s also read shojo? And admitted it so easily? Shouto needed more time than he had to process everything he had learned about Sero Hanta in the three minutes since he’d entered the room.
Shouto cleared his throat. “Speaking of which,” he pointed at the box, “These need to go out. Um, Shinsou said regular ground is fine for all except for the one on top.” Shouto reached for the envelope and double checked he’d grabbed the correct one. “This needs to be overnighted.”
“Not a problem, ‘roki.” Shouto’s heart skipped a beat as the jiffy slipped out of his fingers by Sero’s grip. Seamlessly, he frisbeed it toward a basket in the corner of the room, a paper sign taped to the wall above it declaring !OVERNIGHT! submit by noon!! When it landed, it rattled the metal container a little, but it ultimately stayed put. Sero pumped his fist in victory.
Once more, Shouto surprised himself by speaking up. Though, if it went horribly wrong, he could always blame Shinsou for telling him Sero would do it. “If you have time, also, could you walk me through where everything goes?” Shouto asked, even though just like with the bin for overnight mail, each basket and pile was carefully labeled. It was always good to be sure.
“Of course!” Sero assured, and with a single arm lifted the box of the rest of the envelopes and carried them across the room.
Shouto quietly listened as Sero walked him through the room, indicating the staff mailboxes and pointing out the one for Erasure, going through the delivery and pick-up schedule that determined his working hours (“Each floor has a mail room, actually, so if I’m not here, I might be on floor four since I cover both. If I’m out and you need me, you can leave a sticky note on my keyboard and I’ll come find you. Or you can email me, whatever is easiest.”), and pointing out where he could find the proper labels for certain shipments.
“For bulk mailings, just send me a spreadsheet of addresses and I’ll print out the labels for you. It’ll be easier on the both of us, trust me. I’ll forward you the template.”
Shouto couldn’t hold back a smile, likely the first genuine one he’d given since he said goodbye to Midoriya that morning that felt like days ago. “I’ll trust you,” he repeated, and Sero met his gaze.
Sero smiled too, though his wasn’t a rare sight.
Shouto’s concentration was diverted, however, when there was a knock at the doorway that Sero had mentioned led up from the loading dock elevator, and Sero stepped away to greet the delivery attendant. Feeling awkward and a little abandoned, Shouto pulled his phone from his pocket and was surprised to see that the day was already half over. There was also a message from Midoriya sent a few minutes before asking if he could be ready in ten minutes to get some lunch or if he needed more time.
Shouto glanced up to see Sero hand a clipboard back to the interloper, three large boxes now stacked in the entrance. Shouto tentatively shuffled closer when the two of them were left alone once again. He spun his phone around in one hand as he said to Sero, “I’ll let you know if I have any more questions. Thanks for helping me out today.”
“Oh, not a problem! That’s what I’m here for!” Sero assured him, eyes caught on Shouto’s fidgeting. “Have you been summoned?” he teased, pointing at Shouto’s phone.
Shouto shrugged his shoulders. “Kind of. I have a friend who works here and he’s taking me to lunch.”
“Ah, sounds nice. There’s lots of good lunch spots around here. Let me know if you ever want recommendations. Have an old friend from high school who owns a cafe two blocks down. Sato’s.”
Shouto jolted. “That’s where Midoriya’s taking us.”
Sero’s eyes widened a pinch. “Midoriya! That makes sense, then.”
“You know him?” Shouto asked.
“Yeah. I mean, tangentially. You know about him and, uh…” Sero trailed off, giving Shouto a heavy stare, and it took a beat for Shouto to catch up.
“Oh, Bakugou. Yes, I know.”
Shouto understood why Sero had been reluctant to say the blond man’s name, just in case Shouto hadn’t been aware of his relationship with Midoriya. It’s uncouth to not only potentially out a person to be in a same-sex relationship, but to also claim the relationship is with one of the top models in the country.
Despite neither Midoriya or Bakugou — now engaged as of a month ago — being very secretive, they did prefer their privacy.
Sero’s expression relaxed at hearing Shouto’s confirmation. “Cool. Yeah, Sato and I were in the same class for most of high school. I met Bakugou at the gym and I guess I was tolerable enough of a spotting partner so we’ve kept in touch, mostly through social media, since then. Then I started working here last year and ran into Midoriya. Such a small world we live in, eh?”
Shouto nodded in agreement. His phone vibrated audibly, and both of them stared down it as another message from Midoriya came though, a sticker of a shoulder being poked: Midoriya requesting a response. He “poked” Shouto often, as he was slow to respond in general.
“Well, enjoy Sato’s lunch sets for me,” Sero said, gently dismissing Shouto.
Shouto shot back a simple thumbs-up to Midoriya before he gave Sero a small smile and replied, “Thanks again.”
“Later, ‘roki!”
Shouto headed back toward his desk, noticing several of his office-mates were missing, likely getting lunch too, so he sent an email to Shinsou confirming the ARCs had been packaged and prepared for pick-up. He jotted down his afternoon’s to-do list on a sticky note, stuck it onto his monitor, and then picked up his suit jacket which he’d taken off earlier on when the heat of the office snuck up on him.
Midoriya was waiting right where he said he would be in the lobby, and he leaned into Shouto’s shoulder as soon as the elevator doors closed. “So, how is it going?” he asked, green eyes wide and curious.
“It’s… good,” Shouto offered.
Midoriya beamed. “I’m glad. I think you’ll also like this lunch place. Kacchan’s friend’s friend owns it or something, and their lunch sets are really good!”
Shouto thought about Sero’s smile and murmured softly, “So I’ve heard.”
It wasn’t something to complain about, as the work was easy, if sometimes long-suffering and occasionally involved people staring at one side of his face for too long, but Shouto had not expected just how much time he would spend packaging materials and sending them out across the country and occasionally internationally.
Shinsou had been right in advising him to make nice with Sero, because besides his direct team, he was the employee Shouto worked with the most in the entire building.
Every day he was assigned mailings, some more complicated or intricate than others. Some included paperwork like press releases, media clippings, or mangaka interviews, which had to be packaged a specific way. Because Shouto’s previous position in editorial was a higher-grade than where he currently sat, he was used to being the one to send any mailing requests to the publicity team who then made it happen. It was a unique perspective to be on the other side of it all, and he fostered a new appreciation for the work.
On top of the physical aspects, Aizawa did not give him a moment’s rest. He was assigned a minimum of two research projects a week, was sent manuscripts to copyedit and reformat (one thing he had never gotten any experience with in his previous work, so it was a steep learning curve), coordinated with the sales team to relay the week’s sales numbers, which he then needed to schedule weekly meetings to analyze the cost effectiveness of each title and volume, which was just one of the meetings he scheduled and booked every week on Aizawa’s behalf. And then, every week, there was always some big disaster that befell them like a missed deadline or an exciting press opportunity but it needed seventeen people’s approval by the end of the day. And that was on top of all of the small things, like daily mailings, that he had to maintain to keep the Erasure machine running, if not smoothly, at least on time. It was exhausting.
And Shouto was having the fucking time of his life. He’d never been happier with his job.
“Good morning, Sero-san,” Shouto greeted as he stepped into the mail room first thing one Wednesday morning, the same pattern he followed every day. He checked the Erasure mailbox, collected the magazines and small envelopes stuffed into it, and turned to see Sero’s sleepy smile.
“Hey ‘roki. Did you have a good evening?”
“It was standard. How was yours?”
Their small talk each morning when Shouto popped in to snag the mail always allowed him to start the day off with a smile. His team was usually too tired to share such pleasantries, and while Shouto was not someone to fake emotions either, he did still like to be acknowledged with unfiltered kindness.
Their morning conversations were always casual, but Shouto secretly enjoyed their spur-of-the-moment conversations more.
The first time Shouto had emailed Sero was to send a spreadsheet of thirty-seven addresses that he needed overnight labels for. He followed Sero’s instructions, reread it and checked for errors, and rewarded himself with a second to bask in the sent email swoosh sound before he opened his To Do inbox and started on to his next assignment while he waited for Sero to deliver the labels. It was less than a minute later that he received an email reply from Sero, a simple thumbs up emoji next to a smiley face sticking its tongue out.
A bit taken aback and baffled by the casual nature of the email — his father would have never allowed such frivolity to happen within a business-sanctioned communications channel — he snorted a laugh, and then quickly covered his face with a hand when Shinsou shot him an odd look.
When Sero came to deliver the printed labels about twenty minutes later, Shouto was so focused on updating his title information grid with a sudden influx of publication date changes that he missed his entrance. It wasn’t until Sero literally waved the labels in front of Shouto’s face, thus blocking his view of the increasingly red-inked Excel spreadsheet, that Shouto could hear him giggling.
“So intense, ‘roki,” Sero teased him as Shouto took the stack of label stickers from Sero’s outstretched hand.
“Sorry,” Shouto apologized.
“Nah, no worries! It’s a good thing. You know, you’re the first one to ever send me a label spreadsheet correctly filled out on the first try?” Sero beamed at him.
Shouto shifted in his seat and willed himself not to blush at such an innocuous compliment. “You sent me clear instructions, I just followed them.”
“Exactly. You read the email I sent you,” Sero explained. “Most of the time my emails get ignored since I’m not as important.”
Shouto frowned.
“Don’t get me wrong!” Sero instantly continued, seeing Shouto’s expression and apparently deciding he needed to enact damage control. “It’s just because everyone is so busy, so they really only have time to skim emails sent by, you know, us.” He gestured to the space between them. “We assist,” Sero explained, when Shouto continued to stare at him blankly, not understanding. “We’re not the boss. So we get skimmed.” Sero shrugged, fists in his jean pockets. “Just how it goes.”
Shouto wondered how many assistants’ emails he’d skimmed over the three years he worked at Endeavor, missing important details because he just didn’t have the time.
“Well, it’s about time for the postal service to pick up,” Sero commented when a long moment of them just staring at each other passed in silence. “I’ll head back. Keep sane, ‘roki!”
Sero was gone before Shouto could properly send him off.
From two desks down, Manga choked on a laugh. Shouto looked back down at the labels and ran his finger over the dried black ink. He decided to finish up his current work and then wait for a quieter moment to finish boxing his mailings. Maybe by then, he could actually formulate a response to Sero.
After that day, Sero didn’t stick around Shouto’s desk whenever dropping off labels, just offering a smile and receiving a thanks. Shouto made sure to plan his visits into the mail room strategically, so that they could get that conversation time without witnesses who laugh at you or spreadsheets to distract.
The first time Shouto had to prepare a box to ship a significantly sized promotional poster to one of their best-selling independent bookstores, he found himself alone in the mail room staring at the poster, a large flattened box, and the infamous wet tape machine.
Sero came up behind him approximately five minutes later to see him frozen still in the same position, completely flummoxed. The dark-haired man laughed at Shouto’s blank expression and graciously offered his help.
He explained the mechanisms to Shouto, pointed at the tub of water on the side that he advised to never let run empty otherwise the tape would not adhere to the cardboard. He worked backwards, taking the top off of the machine and showing Shouto how to load in the wheel of paper tape, what bars to thread it through so that it came in contact with the water that allowed it to become sticky. He even showed Shouto how to take the flattened box and, using the tape, seal the bottom and turn it into a large cardboard envelope that would perfectly fit the poster.
Sero observed Shouto as he took packing paper and wrapped it securely around the poster, taping it down in place (with regular clear adhesive), and offered a hand to hold things in place as Shouto added a layer of bubble wrap to ensure the corners of the poster didn’t get bent in the shipping process.
“I treat each and every package that comes in and out of here like a lover,” Sero commented as Shouto finished shimmying the poster into the box and taped it shut. “But some of those delivery guys can be rough handlers. They don’t care about treating a single box carefully, they’ve got a thousand more to deal with every hour.” Sero caught his eye. “That’s why I make sure to take very good care of everything in this room.”
“You do,” Shouto confirmed without hesitation. After a beat, he offered Sero a smile.
Sero turned his face away to cough, and Shouto frowned, a question regarding his health on the tip of his tongue, though he never got the chance to ask.
“The most important thing,” Sero said, though he didn’t meet Shouto’s eye contact, “is to make sure you don’t forget to add the label. Otherwise, it’s not going anywhere.”
Shouto had become an expert at the wet tape machine, but he liked to take his time when he used it, because occasionally Sero would see him and think he needed help, and then they would get to talking.
Sometimes, if there were a lot of small envelope mailings and a big box mailing in the same day, Shouto was rewarded with two conversations with Sero. They got to learn a lot about each other that way, though most was surface-level.
Shouto learned that Sero lived outside of the city and commuted an hour and a half into the office every day. Sero had two siblings, both with an over five year age difference above and below him. Besides going to the gym — which Sero admitted he’d been slacking off on recently because he was often too tired at the end of the work day to go, and he hated getting up early to factor in another hour of exercise before a long commute — Sero was also pretty health-conscious. He’d started consuming less meat and dairy products since watching a horrific documentary about the food industry, but found himself surprised that he liked the alternatives.
Besides Erasure titles, the two would often talk about their favorite weekly manga releases, and Shouto had even loaned a few of his favorite volumes of an out of print manga to Sero because he’d expressed interest but bemoaned how hard it was to find.
For the first three months, their conversations were light and usually brief, Shouto very aware that he was at work and always had a lot to get done and no time to waste. But it wasn’t much of a surprise when Sero asked on an unassuming Wednesday morning if Shouto wanted to eat lunch together.
Sero wore a mischievous smile as he said, “There’s never any scheduled pickups between one and three, so I usually stop for lunch at one since hardly anyone needs me then anyway because they are at lunch too. But because there are no pickups,” he paused for dramatic effect, “the receiving room is mercifully quiet and empty. It’s a great place to decompress. Or at least eat lunch. Want to join me?”
Shouto had never been into the receiving room before, so he agreed partially out of curiosity. Past the set of double doors in the mail room that Shouto had seen deliveries come in and out of, at three minutes past one in the afternoon, carrying his wrapped bento box (homemade leftovers courtesy of his sister’s visit the night before), Shouto followed Sero down a new hall. It wasn’t well lit, and the walls were painted a smoke gray, which didn’t help, but the creepy passage was short and led to another set of white painted double doors that opened into a room that looked… exactly like the mail room, except half the size. Speckled linoleum floors littered with tire marks from carts that wheeled boxes in and out from the elevator that connected to the loading dock greeted them. Besides some boxes and carts, the room was empty and silent. He couldn’t even hear the radio that Sero had left playing in the mail room.
Without delay, Sero led him to the one wall with a large window that brought in natural light and sat onto the floor. Shouto had flashbacks to eating lunch by himself in school hallways on days when the whispering became too much. He hesitated, but when Sero arched an eyebrow at him in silent question, gingerly lowered himself to the floor.
“This is okay, right?” Sero asked, clearly far too late, but at least he asked. “You don’t have back problems or anything?”
“No, this is fine,” Shouto assured him, almost fully meaning it. “It is really nice in here. Feels so disconnected from the rest of the office. I can’t even hear the copy machine.”
That poor machine was on its last legs and was going to scream until its final breath.
Sero laughed, head thrown back. “You’re funny, ‘roki.” He mimed wiping away a tear.
Shouto blinked. “I am?”
He knew Midoriya laughed at his jokes occasionally, but usually he received deadpan or confused looks whenever he had to explain he’d been joking.
“Yeah,” Sero assured, hungry gaze already set on his lunch. “I mean, you have to have a good sense of humor to read Lunch Rush.”
Lunch Rush was a serialized comedy manga that followed the ridiculous life of an often-silent chef who continuously found himself in perilous situations that he solved by cooking. Much of the humor stemmed from the lack of communication through words and rather through kitchen utensils. It came out bi-weekly in Plus Ultra Production’s magazine HERO which catered primarily to an older male audience.
It was nowhere near the most popular manga serialized even in that magazine, but Shouto had been assisting HERO’s team a while back when half of their department got food poisoning the night before the print deadline, so he became introduced to not only the editor but also the mangaka. He’d been a fan ever since. Turned out, Sero was too.
“That doesn’t mean I’m funny,” Shouto argued.
Clearly changing the subject, Sero asked about Shouto’s lunch, which led to him asking about his sister and what his family was like.
Shouto hesitated. Sero had been open about his family, and Shouto had admitted he had older siblings so they both could relate to being a younger brother. But his family was a difficult conversation to speak about. And the main reason was because it very quickly brought down the mood. It was possible Sero was unaware that Todoroki Shouto was from the Todoroki family, but even if he was, that was only the top layer.
Sero likely sensed his hesitation because he followed up with, “Only if you want to!”
“It’s fine,” Shouto blurted before his brain could catch up with his heart (the traitor). “It’s just not as, um, fun of a story as yours was.”
Sero bumped their shoulders together. “We don’t only have to talk about fun stuff, you know. Like, you can complain to me about work if you want.” He waved a hand above their heads. “This is the safe room. Feel free to, heh,” he elbowed the metal grate attached to the wall on his opposite side, making it rattle, “vent.”
Shouto hid his smile behind a bite. “Okay,” he agreed after he finished chewing. “Like I said, Fuyumi and I have dinner, usually with my one older brother Natsuo, once a month or whenever they’re both in town. Natsuo travels a lot; he doesn’t like to come home much.”
Sero made a noise that meant he was listening, but Shouto didn’t look to see if he was being watched and focused on his food instead.
“Six months ago, I moved out of my family’s house into my own apartment because I quit my job and my father was unhappy.”
“Was he that worried about you being unemployed?”
Shouto took a deep breath. “No, he was mad I quit because I didn’t want to make Endeavor a family business.”
“Endeavor? The publishing house?” Sero asked, and Shouto snuck a glance at his reaction. Sero only looked lightly confused. “Is your dad the owner?”
Shouto was used to people in the publishing world knowing at least the Todoroki name if not his father’s face, and he was giddily happy that Sero seemed completely unaware. He supposed you didn’t have to be a publishing expert to properly run a mail room.
“Yes, he’s the CEO.”
“Damn,” Sero exclaimed. “Are you the only kid who works in the industry?”
Shouto shook his head. “My oldest brother, Touya, was brought up to be my father’s successor. I don’t know all of the details because I was still a baby, but he moved in with my grandparents after getting in trouble with the law in his early teens. I’ve only met him a few times since, and they’ve not gone well. He is a publisher at Blueflame.” Shouto shot Sero a smirk. “Blueflame is Endeavor’s biggest competition.”
“Sounds like a lot,” Sero said.
Shouto hadn’t even mentioned his mother, but that would probably be too heavy to talk about over a single lunch. Also, trauma dumping wasn’t something Shouto enjoyed doing. He preferred to call less attention to his scar rather than more.
“So I don’t talk about my family much outside of my sister,” Shouto concluded. “Who makes great food.”
Sero leaned close so that their shoulders were touching. He eyed the remaining half of Shouto’s leftovers and then raised his pleading gaze to meet Shouto’s.
“Oh. Sure,” Shouto offered without a thought.
They ended up sharing the rest of their lunches, discussing their favorite packed and purchased lunch meals, eliminating any tension between them that Shouto’s story had created. When Shouto’s phone announced that it had been forty-five minutes and he thought about the seventeen unread emails in his inbox, he sighed.
“Can we do this again?” Shouto asked Sero as they entered the mail room.
Sero tripped on the edge of a box that stuck out into the doorway, and Shouto managed to snag his elbow before the other man hit the floor. Sero righted himself with Shouto’s assistance, though he did look pretty embarrassed, his cheeks stained pink. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Shouto replied. After a beat, he let go of Sero’s elbow. Sero had really nice arms, Shouto noted for certainly not the first time.
Sero crossed his arms across his chest and chuckled, thumb rubbing over the bump of his elbow. “But yeah, ‘roki, we can do lunch again.”
Shouto pulled open his calendar app on his phone and scrolled to next week. “Wednesdays are the best day for me. I have a two PM meeting on Thursdays and Mondays, and a 1:30 on Tuesdays. Does that work for you?”
Sero’s thumb stilled, and Shouto averted his eyes from Sero’s hands, because staring was impolite and he did it a lot with Sero. He met his eyes instead.
Sero sucked his lower lip between his teeth, released it with a soft exhale, then mumbled something that Shouto couldn’t hear. “Wednesdays are perfect. Pack me something good for next week,” Sero joked.
“Okay,” Shouto agreed anyway, though he understood it as a tease. He liked the way Sero’s expression froze up before realizing that Shouto was then teasing him and barking out a laugh.
“See?” Sero gestured to Shouto with a hand. “You’re hilarious.”
Shouto couldn’t shake his inner warmth for the rest of the day, even when he got berated by Aizawa for not responding to his urgent email.
One unassuming Wednesday turned into the first of a pattern. Not every Wednesday worked out. Meetings were added to Shouto’s schedule out of the blue, and sometimes the mail room was so packed with deliveries Sero could barely spare ten minutes to eat. But for four months, Shouto thought of Wednesday as his favorite day of the week. He worked from home on Fridays, but Wednesday was still better.
He also was called out to join Midoriya for lunch often, but he never sacrificed a Wednesday for his best friend. He explained the situation to Midoriya after turning him down who took the words in stride and without comment, though he did catch him furiously texting under the table less than a minute later. Any Wednesday lunch invite from then on came with the attached note of, “only if your usual date is indisposed.”
The more settled Shouto got into his role, the easier and tougher it became. He had his routines, he became very fast at packaging, his inbox was highly organized first thing in the morning, and he was pretty sure he’d earned Aizawa’s trust.
But along with trust came not necessarily more but larger responsibilities. Shouto was grateful for the opportunities to learn more about the editorial side of manga publishing, and assisting Shinsou with his mangakas only reinforced his desire to continue with this work in his career. With a reinforced sense of self, Shouto was feeling much more confident that he made the right choice for not just himself but for his career in leaving Endeavor.
Of course, not all days were good. Whenever Shouto needed just five minutes to get away from his desk, he would head for the mail room between the magical 1-3PM hours, ask, “Sero-san, can I borrow the room?” and as long as he received some sign of confirmation, which Sero always gave no matter how busy he was in that second, Shouto would co-opt the receiving room.
Occasionally, after a minute of Shouto staring up at the ceiling, he would feel a silent presence settle onto the floor next to him. Sero would never say anything, and when Shouto was finished with his mental temper-tantrum and stood to leave, Sero would silently follow. Shouto always thanked him in a whisper before heading back to his desk, but Sero always acted like he did nothing worthy of praise.
It wasn’t until Shouto had reached seven months of employment at Erasure that he was able to repay the favor.
It was a rare Tuesday that Shouto didn’t have his 1:30 with the sales team, the meeting having been canceled less than a half an hour ahead of time. He’d had an early lunch to preempt the meeting, so with an empty office — Aizawa gone on vacation for the week and the rest off to lunch — Shouto thought it might be nice to see if Sero was busy. They hadn’t had a chance the day before to discuss the new chapters that dropped over the weekend, and he really wanted Sero’s opinion on the new character introduced in Fierce Wings, a mutual favorite fantasy manga of theirs.
The mail room was empty, which made Shouto hesitate for a moment before he guessed Sero was in the receiving room eating lunch. True, Sero usually took lunch at his actual desk when not with Shouto. And when he went out of the office for lunch, he always taped up the OUT FOR LUNCH! sign on the door. The receiving room was the only other place Sero could be. Unless.
Shouto loitered next to Sero’s desk for a few minutes, in case Sero had gone to the bathroom, but when the mail room doorway stayed empty, Shouto decided to take the short walk to check his first guess.
The hallway was just as dark and creepy as it had been the first day, and the reminder that he walked down it by himself hastened Shouto’s steps. The doors to the receiving room were open, but when Sero wasn’t seated underneath the windows in their usual lunch spot, Shouto came up short in the doorway. Had he been wrong?
“Sero-san?” Shouto called, stepping into the room and surveying a lone trio of boxes, all opened but left unpacked.
Shouto heard some shuffling, and when he grew closer, he realized that behind the three boxes was the slumped figure of Sero. Shouto felt his insides freeze with panic, but then he saw the steady rise and fall of Sero’s chest, he marginally relaxed.
Sero was sleeping.
Sero was not the type of person to sleep on the job, had actually condoned the act in conversation with Shouto before, so Shouto felt he was justified in his concern.
Kneeling at Sero’s side, Shouto pressed a hand to his shoulder and gently shook him. “Sero,” he whispered gently. “Wake up.”
Sero reacted to Shouto’s touch, shoulder rolling as he slowly roused, accidentally brushing off Shouto’s grip. Sero’s lips pursed, forehead furrowing as a loud exhale escaped him.
Shouto watched with slight fascination as Sero’s eyelids fluttered. He had short lashes, but they were as dark as his hair, so they stood out against Sero’s pale skin like a thickened under eye shadow, until his eyes finally peeled open and the shade diminished.
Sero stared up at Shouto who stayed kneeling over him for a long moment. He murmured something, though it sounded like a garbled sleepy groan to Shouto, before Sero blinked again and all the fog disappeared from his dark eyes.
“‘roki?” Sero pushed himself up into his elbows and Shouto sat back on his knees to give him space.
“Hi,” Shouto greeted lamely. “I missed you this morning.”
It was rare that Sero wasn’t in the mail room when Shouto came by in the morning to pick up the day’s mail, but because Sero was in charge of the fifth and fourth floors, it did happen from time to time. Shouto also hadn’t needed to fill any mailings yet that day, caught up with a rush copyediting assignment with an end-of-day deadline, so there had been no reason to stop by after that.
Shouto expected a sly response from Sero along the lines of, “Aw, I missed you too!” But when Sero didn’t say anything and just stared blankly into the distance, Shouto frowned.
“Are you hurt?” Shouto asked, wondering if Sero had gotten a concussion somehow. Maybe he tried lifting too much and passed out?
Sero shook his head and raised a hand to cover his face. “I’m fine.” His words were muffled behind his palm, but at least Shouto understood them.
“Okay. Did you not get any sleep last night?” Sero did look really tired. There were actual shadowed bags under his eyes, now that Shouto was looking for signs of exhaustion. And there was a tenseness to his face that he’d never seen Sero wear before.
“Not much,” Sero admitted, a long silent moment later. “None, actually. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Sero moved to stand, bracing his arms on the boxes to likely gain leverage, but Shouto snagged the sleeve of Sero’s shirt, stopping him from rising farther than a crouch. Sero turned back and looked down at him, eyes wide in surprise.
Shouto let him go, dropping his hand to his lap, and said, “Don’t go.”
Sero immediately sat back down.
“Did you eat?” Shouto asked. Sero nodded. “Do you want to sleep some more?”
“I’m running solely on espresso shots, ‘roki, so yeah. But that was a mistake. I only wanted to rest my eyes before unpacking—”
Shouto interrupted, “You should sleep. If you need to.”
Sero shook his head. “No, it’d be worse if I did and then woke up groggy. I’d be worse than useless for the rest of the day.”
“Why didn’t you sleep last night?”
Sero pursed his lips and ducked his head, avoiding Shouto’s concerned gaze. “It’s nothing big. It’s silly, honestly.”
Shouto shuffled on his knees forward until they bumped into Sero’s, catching his once more wide-eyed stare.
“When I have a bad day, you make it better,” Shouto admitted, feeling a flash of confidence. “Let me help if I can. Even if it is silly, it doesn’t matter.”
Sero ran a hand over his mouth and sighed. “You seriously—” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Promise you won’t laugh.”
Shouto nodded stonily. “I swear.”
Sero cracked a tiny smile, so Shouto was able to relax.
“There’s a park near my apartment building that not a lot of people go to anymore because it’s gotten run down. I cut through it every day because it saves me time. Well, there’s a stray tabby cat that lives there, and she’s super friendly. I’ve even brought her into my apartment a few times to give her a bath, but she’s an outdoor cat so she never wants to stay in for long and tries to jump out the window at the first chance she gets. But yesterday she wasn’t in her normal spot on my way home, and I went back a few hours later to bring her treats and she was still missing. I wandered around the neighborhood for a while looking for her, but she wasn’t anywhere.
“I called the closest shelter to my house to ask if anyone had brought in a tabby in the last day or so, but they said no. I just had this feeling that something bad had happened, so I kept looking. There’s lots of hidden alleys in my neighborhood, and I found her in one but she… Her leg was broken, and it looked like she’d been in a fight. I took her to the emergency vet, and by then it was like two in the morning so the closest one was a thirty minute taxi ride, so I had to pay for that. And the vets said that she would need surgery for her leg and stitches for the bites and would need to get a ton of vaccinations and meds because they looked like dog bites and if the dog was rabid, then she would have likely gotten rabies too. So they sent me to the ER to get a rabies shot just in case since I handled her and she did snap at me before she passed out on the ride to the vet. And by the time I was down there, my arm hurt like a bitch, I’d gotten no sleep, and it was twenty minutes before I was supposed to wake up.
“I called the vet when I got in this morning—late, of course, which is why you missed me. They were able to successfully complete the surgery and suture her up, and she doesn’t have rabies which is such a relief but that means I got the shot for nothing, but she does have hearing loss in one of her ears, likely caused from the fight. So I’m going to pick her up when I get back from work today and take her home, but I don’t really know how to raise a cat, much less an injured one, so I’m… worried.”
Shouto listened to Sero talk, feeling a pang in his heart for the poor cat, and for Sero too. As he spoke, the tension slowly drained from Sero’s body, so by the time he finished, he was slumped against the boxes.
“You have good instincts,” is what Shouto decided to say first.
Sero smiled sleepily at him. “Yeah. I’m glad that I was able to find her.”
“I think you should sleep,” Shouto suggested, and when Sero instantly began to argue, shook his head. “Twenty-five minutes. I’ll wake you.” Shouto then patted his lap, offering his thigh as a pillow.
Sero eyed his leg like it was an explosive but very slowly lowered himself back down so that the back of his head was pressed against both of Shouto’s knees.
“Your pants are really nice,” Sero complimented as his eyes slid shut.
“They were a gift from my father, which is why they cost more than they should but are, admittedly, very comfortable. Sleep.”
Shouto kept his bottom half as still as possible as he watched his twenty-five minute timer tick down and definitely not Sero’s sleeping face.
As Sero napped, Shouto used his phone to compile a list of things Sero might need to prepare before and after bringing the cat into his apartment. Shouto had never owned a pet before, but the internet was full of resources. He sent the list plus a few links he thought would be helpful to Sero’s email, and less than a minute later, the timer went off.
Sero snapped awake immediately, sitting up with a jerk of his torso, and Shouto mourned the loss of warmth. His calves ached a bit, but he wouldn’t have minded staying like that for a while longer.
“Try and relax for the rest of the day,” Shouto suggested, quoting an article on coping with home-life stress while in the office. “The vets know what to do, so when you go to pick her up, get the instructions from them and you should be fine. Before you leave here, check the email I just sent you. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to pick up some wet cat food beforehand because she’ll most likely just be thirsty, hungry, and tired for a few days.” When Sero didn’t say anything to Shouto’s deluge of information, Shouto took a page from Sero’s book and jokingly punched his shoulder. “Just like you.”
Sero blinked slowly. Maybe he wasn't fully awake yet. “Like me?”
“Tired and hungry. You probably didn’t eat much for lunch,” Shouto guessed.
Sero’s answering shrug was confirmation enough.
“I’ll bring you a protein bar from the vending machine,” Shouto offered.
“You d—”
“And while you eat, I want your Fierce Wings opinions.”
At the name drop of one of his favorite manga, Sero seemed to snap to life instantly and nodded eagerly. “I have many,” Sero warned.
Shouto helped him to his feet. “So do I.”
“Thanks, ‘roki,” Sero told him before they both got back to work, and Shouto felt what Sero must have felt when Shouto thanked him for helping him through his bad moments.
Instead of telling the entire truth, that Shouto wanted to help Sero too and that the instinct was an incredibly natural reaction, he offered back, “Anytime.”
For the rest of the week and into the next, anytime Shouto entered the mail room (which became a more frequent occurrence), he and Sero would immediately pick up the conversation where they last left off. They debated and reviewed advice columns for how to treat a cat through an injury, and Shouto suggested hacks that Sero could pull off with items he already had in his apartment, like making a short-sided temporary litter box from a plastic serving tray.
Sero arrived each day looking more tired but happier and delivered the newest Orange (the cat’s not-so-temporary name) Update to Shouto in the most Sero-like fashion.
The following Thursday, Sero told Shouto that he’d talked with one of his neighbors who used to have a cat. They’d graciously offered to take Orange in for the rest of her recovery, as they previously nursed their own late cat’s broken leg and knew the correct processes. So, Shouto had asked, “Are you going to accept?”
Sero looked sad to admit, “Yeah.” But he perked up when he followed it up with, “But just until she’s more healed. My neighbor is retired and can stay with her all day. I’m barely home long enough to eat and sleep, so it’s not fair to Orange to deprive her of so much attention when she needs it most. I talked to my landlord and he said as long as I paid the pet fee, I could keep her. So I will.”
Sero had previously chastised himself in Shouto’s presence for failing to bring Orange into his home sooner. “Stray cats are actually really bad for the ecosystem,” he’d explained. ”I should have kept her inside the first day I bathed her.”
“Orange is lucky to have you,” Shouto assured, admiring Sero’s phone screen where a recent photo of Orange in her little cast and head cone (to stop her from biting her stitches) was displayed.
“I’m the lucky one,” Sero responded, and when Shouto glanced up, Sero’s resolute gaze was locked on him.
When the end of the fiscal year passed, thankfully without too much issue, it was time for employee evaluations. Even though Shouto had not been an employee for a full year, he still went through the same process of doing a self-evaluation followed by a meeting with Shinsou to discuss his strengths and weaknesses. Three weeks later, Aizawa followed up his manager's evaluation by scheduling a one-on-one meeting with Shouto.
Aizawa had been MIA for the last week, locked in meetings that Shouto scheduled for him that were titled ”HNH Update” with no further context. So seeing the man looking downright chipper was a surprise. Usually meetings drained him.
“Todoroki, do you have any hints as to why we’re meeting today?”
Shouto shook his head. “I assumed it was a follow-up evaluation. Is it not?” Oh no, was he getting fired? He thought he’d been doing well; Shinsou at least seemed to think so.
“On paper, yes,” Aizawa said, so Shouto dismissed his sudden pessimistic thought. “But the real reason I wanted to talk with you is regarding a new acquisition.”
Shouto perked up. A new acquisition to Erasure meant that they had purchased the rights to sell a new manga title. Erasure had a pretty packed list already, so adding a new title into the lineup when none of their others were in their final stages, said to Shouto that he was going to be quite busy moving forward.
Still, it was exciting. Shouto read and enjoyed all of Erasure’s titles, and whatever Aizawa was bringing on board would no doubt be a perfect fit for Shouto’s bookshelf.
When Aizawa offered no further explanation, Shouto said, “Oh! Okay. Is that what you’ve been meeting with the executive team about this week?”
Aizawa nodded. He turned to his computer which he’d brought into the meeting room with them and pressed a few keys before turning back to Shouto. “I just forwarded you all of the title information. We want you to take charge of this manga.”
Several emotions hit Shouto at once, but before he could begin to parse them out, Aizawa continued.
“Additionally, though it is untraditional, we want to promote you to Assistant Editor.”
Shouto waited a beat to see if any more news was going to smack him, and when Aizawa stayed silent, Shouto raised both hands to his face to cover his expression. He didn’t know what expression it was, but he definitely didn’t want to show the cocktail of emotions to anyone.
Fear. He knew that emotion, and that was to be expected. Excitement, obviously. Anxiety, also par for the course. Joy intermingled with relief, a wash of warmth through him.
He couldn’t wait to tell Midoriya and Sero. He should invite them out to dinner as thanks for helping keep him sane enough to get to this place.
“We will still need your help assisting the entire imprint until we can hire another team addition, but your main focus will be Half ‘n Half. The university intern starts in two weeks, so you won’t need to take care of the little things for much longer.”
There was another emotion too. Dread. Why did Shouto feel a spike of dread?
“O-okay,” Shouto stumbled to agree, uncovering his face, left feeling off-kilter. Aizawa looked like he was trying not to smirk at causing such a reaction but was simultaneously extremely annoyed by having done so.
“We will need to have you sign a formal agreement to the position change. Your salary will increase, but don’t expect much.”
“Thank you,” Shouto blurted, realizing he hadn’t vocalized his gratitude. “Sensei, thank you very much. I will work hard.”
Aizawa pursed his lips. “Of course you will.”
The rest of the meeting passed with Shouto feeling like his head was in a fog. When he returned to his desk, Shinsou gave him a pat on the back and a sincere nod. Shouto woke his laptop from its sleep and opened the email Aizawa had sent him.
Half ‘n Half was a very recently started online manga that went viral after the third chapter was released. Aizawa must have immediately jumped on the opportunity to turn this into a printed book, because the artist’s website already had a posted apology for the sudden hiatus with a note that they will return with an explanation and good news soon.
Aligned with Erasure’s core values, HNH followed a man who lived his life traveling back and forth between universes. In one, he was a rich, popular high school student with good looks. In the other, he was a cold-hearted office worker that scammed people for a living. Grappling with both of his identities had become a breeze after passing the three-year mark, but he was slowly losing his memory of which of his lives were real. In the third chapter that attracted national attention, the protagonist as a student came face to face with his adult self seconds before the office worker was hit by a truck.
The continuations were plotted to be a race to stop himself from dying in the future as a student and trying to reinvent his life as an adult so that when the fateful day arrived, he would be saved.
Shouto was enraptured by the characterization and the art style, and he couldn’t help scrolling through the provided outline to see how deep the mangaka had gotten in terms of planning.
Oh, Sero was going to love this one. He wondered if Sero had already been reading it. Sero was a really big fan of alternate timelines. The thought only feuded his excitement.
Shouto floated into the receiving room nearly ten minutes late for lunch with Sero because he’d gotten distracted scheduling a meeting with his mangaka. What had secretly been his dream career growing up was now his reality, and Shouto couldn’t wait to share the good news.
Sero beamed at him as Shouto sat to his right and noted, “You look like you’re in a good mood. What’d you bring today?”
Shouto unlaced his plastic bag and showed its convenience store bread offerings to Sero. “Didn’t have time to make anything, sorry.”
“No worries,” Sero assured, snagging a plastic wrapped melon bread and passing Shouto an extra pair of chopsticks. “Feel free to pick out of my box.”
“Thanks.” Shouto curled his fingers around the chopsticks, but Sero didn’t let go on his end, and Shouto pouted at him for teasing.
Instead of letting go, Sero smirked. “If you tell me what you’re so giddy about, I’ll let go.”
Shouto wondered what he looked like right now. He raised his free hand to his cheek and his skin was warm with an excited flush. Sero wiggled the chopsticks back and forth, and said, “Come on, ‘roki. Spill!”
“I was planning on telling you anyway,” Shouto assured, and Sero acquiesced to the truth, relinquishing the utensils.
To build anticipation, and a bit embarrassed by his obvious elation, Shouto glanced down at his lunch offerings and, setting to the side his chopsticks, reached inside to pull out a random cream bread package.
“I was offered a promotion,” Shouto announced, fighting back the smile in his voice and on his face. He heard Sero clack his chopsticks together, and Shouto crinkled the bread’s plastic wrapper between his tense grip. “And I’m going to be an editor for a new Erasure title.”
Shouto raised his head to see Sero’s reaction, but he couldn’t, because at some point Sero had turned his face away to stare out the window.
Sero didn’t say anything for a minute, and Shouto was reminded of his conflicting emotions, the one of which he had yet to understand why he felt. Finally, Sero turned back to Shouto with a huge grin on his face and, unexpectedly, he wrapped an arm around Shouto’s shoulders and squeezed, as much of a hug as they could achieve sitting on the ground.
“That’s awesome, ‘roki. I’m happy for you,” Sero said, lips so close to Shouto’s ear they nearly brushed, before the dark-haired man moved away and dropped his arm. He wrapped them around his knees which he raised to his chest, curling up.
Something was…wrong. Sero’s expression was smiley, his words congratulatory, but his body moving to protect itself triggered alarm bells in Shouto’s mind.
Why would Sero need to protect himself from Shouto?
“Guess I won’t be seeing as much of you anymore,” Sero commented with a small smile, chin propped up on his knees, then tacked on with a joking tone, though the words fell flat, “Except for when I bring you boxes, right?”
His eyes weren’t on Shouto, they were over his shoulder, avoiding his direct gaze. He almost looked guilty.
And then it clicked. That missing puzzle piece of understanding that Shouto had been trying to place snapped into its perfectly shaped hole. The wash of dread that had overcome him earlier finally made sense.
He didn’t dread the new job. He dreaded not having the job he did have.
“I don’t like that.”
Sero startled at Shouto’s sudden loud voiced exclamation. “W-what?” He straightened his spine, one leg unfurling to lay straight.
“I don’t want that,” Shouto continued. ”I want to see you more.” A lot more.
Oh, Midoriya’s “date” jokes made so much more sense now.
Sero’s tensed shoulders slowly relaxed, and he nodded. He still didn’t meet Shouto’s eyes, though. “O-okay. There’s always lunch—”
“Date me.”
That got Sero’s full attention. Shouto would feel victorious if he wasn’t too busy mentally berating himself for demanding rather than asking. But maybe Sero wouldn’t mind.
Sero’s jaw was dropped, eyes wide, and his voice adorably cracked on a, “Huh?”
“I like you,” Shouto confessed. He probably should have started with that, but he just got too excited after figuring it all out.
Sero still looked shocked, but he hadn’t pulled further away from Shouto, which was a good sign. Plus, Shouto was pretty sure the rest of the puzzle was coming together because Sero felt the same.
“Since when?” Sero asked, and his voice had regained its post-puberty status.
Shouto thought about it for a moment, then said, “Maybe... the third day?”
Sero gaped at him, though he recovered more quickly this time. “Holy shit, ‘roki…” Sero choked out a laugh and covered his cheeks with his hands. “What the hell have we been doing all this time?”
“I mean, I liked it,” Shouto said. “Our lunches.”
Sero inched closer, uncovering his face, and he boldly reached for one of Shouto’s hands and cupped it gently between his. “Oh me too,” he assured. “I just mean we could have been, you know, seeing more of each other. Outside of this building.”
“Oh.”
Shouto had, stupidly, never thought about that. His brain was supplying him with about a hundred suggestions all at once, though, like it was making up for lost time.
Sero smirked. “I like you too, by the way.”
This was the greatest day of Shouto’s life.
Sero continued, “I just can’t believe you like me. What impressed you so early on? I’m the mail room guy.”
“Your arms,” Shouto admitted, because he’d never lied to Sero before. And he also knew Sero knew he’d checked out his arms before. “And everything else.”
Sero squeezed their clasped hands and exhaled heavily, eyelids fluttering closed then open on the next, steadier, inhale. “We’re going out for lunch next week. At a table. With chairs and everything.”
Shouto twisted his captured hand’s wrist so that he could twine his fingers with Sero’s. “Chairs would be nice,” Shouto admitted, and then leaned forward with his chopsticks in hand and plucked a teriyaki salmon slice from Sero’s bento.
When he sat back, he met Sero’s gaze, unwavering.
“I was right,” Sero stated, apropos of nothing.
“About what?”
“About slowburns.” Sero dropped his gaze and picked up his utensils, poking at his rice with the points. Even though he didn’t look at Shouto as he ate, he kept their hands intertwined. “They are worth it.”
Shouto wasn’t as smooth as Sero was, recalling their first ever conversation and bringing it up in a moment like this just to fluster Shouto. So it took him the rest of their lunch to formulate a comeback that was equally as flirty and complimentary.
Before Shouto headed back to his desk, he rushed to blurt before he lost his nerve, “Don’t treat those boxes too well. I know you take care of everything here like a lover, but you’ll make me jealous.”
Sero’s startled laughter followed Shouto into the hall, and even though he received odd looks, Shouto kept his head held high as he navigated his phone with one hand.
“Midoriya,” he murmured when the call finally connected. “I really need you to let me thank you for getting me this job.”