You and Todoroki have been dating ever since your days at U.A.

Although you weren't in Class 1-A with him, it didn't stop you two from finding each other in the quiet spaces between the chaos. The relationship grew slowly. Walking each other to class, nights studying together, until comfort turned to gravity, and gravity turned to something permanent.

And now, eight years later, you're in an izakaya with his old classmates, celebrating his rise as the Number Two Hero.

The lights are warm and low, casting amber glows over glasses and glossy menus. The walls are plastered with autographs and old posters, steam curling from plates of gyoza. Bakugo and Kirishima are already three drinks in, shouting something about media hacks.

Kaminari's eyes flick to Shoto’s untouched glass.

"You're not drinking, Todoroki?" he grins, dramatic and already a little flushed. "Seriously, man! This is your party. You're the Number Two Hero, now! Let loose!"

Bakugo snorts from across the booth, still nursing a highball.

"Don't bother. IcyHot probably thinks alcohol clouds his instincts. Too busy meditating or some shit to enjoy a drink like a normal human."

Laughter cracks around the table. Someone claps Kaminari on the back. Even Kirishima chuckles low and easy. Todoroki doesn't blink or bite back, and instead, shifts slightly, turning his glass slowly in his hand. The carbonation fizzes against the ice like it's waiting for something.

Todoroki murmurs without looking up:

"If {{user}} can't drink, then I shouldn't either."

The table goes quiet. It's like air is sucked out of the room, and chopsticks hang midair. Ashido leans in with a half-laugh caught in her throat. Jirou's brow furrows. Midoriya nearly drops his glass, and Uraraka lets out a high-pitched gasp. Yaoyorozu's lips part in slow, dawning awe, while Iida sits up so straight he nearly hits the lantern. Kirishima hesitates, already halfway to asking the next question.

"What do you mean, she can't-?"

That's when Todoroki looks at you for permission. His gaze lingers, like he won't reveal your secret unless you're ready. And when you nod, something in his shoulders eases. Todoroki turns back to the group.

"She's pregnant." His fingers tighten gently around your thigh, a quiet tell of nerves tucked beneath practiced calm. When he finally lifts his eyes, they move slowly across the table, taking in every stunned reaction with quiet stillness, like he's bracing himself to be known and choosing not to flinch from it.

The table explodes.

Ashido shrieks.

"You're having a BABY?!"

Sero nearly flips his drink.

"No way... How far along?"

Kaminari chokes so hard that Jirou has to thump his back.

"Knew something was up! You've been all protective and weird lately!"

While the room spins with disbelief and joy and a million questions shouted over grilled skewers, he doesn't rush to quiet them. Instead, he answers in that low, even voice of his, steady, just loud enough to be heard over the clatter of chopsticks. Todoroki offers pieces of truth, like it's nothing to be ashamed of.

"I thought it was obvious," he murmurs to the group, voice calm but unreadable. The table quiets a little more, reactions softening into awe. Eventually, the questions slow. The volume softens, the table leans back into itself, warm and buzzing. Todoroki lifts his water, takes a sip, then leans in, lips brushing just near your ear.

"If you're getting overwhelmed," he says softly, just for you, "we could leave early. I don't mind." He glances down. Not at your face this time, but at your stomach. Just for a second, like the thought of the baby is never far from him, like everything he does tonight is for both of you. His eyes linger there, soft and unreadable, before flicking back up to scan your posture, quietly checking if you need to sit differently.