Chapter Text
The heart rate monitor spiked momentarily as Izuku seated a butterfly needle into the pale blue vein. He cooed and squeezed the little girl’s hand before placing tape to secure her IV against her forearm and released the line’s valve to start her drip.
“The test results should back within an hour or so, but I suggest you both get some sleep.” Izuku spoke softly in the dark room as he addressed the worried single mother biting her nails to short stubs.
“Is she going to be OK?”
“Well,” Izuku smiled and grabbed his clipboard and the short file at the beds edge. “I'm pretty certain Vivi here is a lot stronger than she looks.” He rested a hand on the girls leg, only for a moment until a smile broke across her sun-kissed face. “I'm not seeing signs of anything serious, but I'll make sure Doctor Soul lets you know the moment the results come in. Can I get you a blanket or water?”
“Please. It's cold, mister.” The girl’s sleepy eyes went wide before she curled in on herself to keep herself warm.
“You got it.” Izuku winked, pulling a blanket from the mobile station and pushed the privacy curtain closed before heading to the desk.
“So,” Hitoshi slid up next to Izuku, his sleep soaked undereyes and wild hair showing proof he slept in an unoccupied room. “Anyone dying in there?”
Izuku chuckled, flipping open the folder to annotate a few notes. “No, so far it just looks like a mild case of food poisoning.”
“That's boring. ”
“Don't you have an L3 to check on?” Izuku jutted a hip, the pair landing at the central station filled with computers.
Hitoshi groaned, his head falling back only further exposing his carotid lined with yellowing hickies. “Fuck off. I don't wanna be around that old racist anymore than I have to be.”
“That's not a professional way to speak of a patient, Shinso.”
“Like you enjoyed her deciding what your ethnicity was the moment you tried to give her an IV.” Hitoshi shot Izuku a sideways glance as he opened his computer to look through his case files.
“Obviously not, but she's non-violent so I can at least ignore it and do my job.” Izuku retorted, setting up Vivi’s intake form and checking for any updates regarding her blood and stool lab results. You can never be too safe when it comes to children vomiting their hearts out.
Hitoshi grunted, his head falling to the desk surface before he grabbed the woman's file and shuffled to her treatment room. He's a good guy, just terrible with bedside manners.
“I-Zu-Ku! My love, my light, I have your results!”
The familiar voice skirted around the other various nurses and doctors in the centralized hub. Himiko bounced around the attending, several nurses, and almost barreled into the 4th year student on her treacherous path towards Izuku.
“Hey, Himi.” Izuku smiled, the dark manilla folder being thrusted into his face by the short blonde. Her smile was feral as she continued to speak.
“I couldn't resist getting to those samples when Touya said you ordered them. And good news! She's not dying! Her bloodwork came back normal! Also, her stool sample didn't show anything Zofran won't cure.” Himiko danced a bit, her messy buns twirling like spider lilies in a harsh wind.
“That's great, I can give these to Rody. ”
“Oh, I can do it! I just wanted to come up here and see your cute face after hearing the good news!” Himiko used her free hand to pinch Izuku's cheek — uncomfortably aggressive but Izuku wouldn't tell her that — and her eyes shifted to something behind Izuku. “Ochako!”
*Well she's a bit early.*
“Hello, baby! I'm here to save your precious Midoriya from his shift!”
Izuku looked over towards the glass doors separating the Emergency Department from the street to see Ochako standing in her black shirt and 5.11 station pants; Ochako was his best friend and Himiko’s soulmate — the thought spiraling a knot in Izuku's stomach, causing his pulse to race and only slightly feeling envy sit on the back of his tongue.
See, as a medical professional, the phenomenon of soulmates was like a disease that drowned the world several centuries ago in a film of muted colors and was one that often made Izuku's mind run into invisible walls. Yes, he could see colors. He could see specific dull shades of yellow, blues, even greens, but the rest of the world was nothing but shades of browns and greys — murky waters that sometimes filtered through pale whispered of things he wasn't allowed to see.
Ochaco could see colors — the color of her uniform, the colors of her firehouse, even the colors of the food she ate. Himiko could tell the vast difference in the pathogens and diseases under her microscope simply by the differing shades of… Well anything. Izuku couldn't. He couldn't tell you the subtle differences between Himiko’s blonde hair to Vivi’s, couldn't tell you what shade of brown Ochako’s eyes were ( if they even were brown to begin with). Hell, he couldn't even tell you if his scrubs were black or a dark red.
He didn't have a soulmate. He wasn't allowed to see the world in all it's wondrous shades. Izuku wasn't chosen.
“Hell-o! Nurse Midoriya, please report back to planet earth.” Ochako snapped her fingers over the desk, the firm snap landing against Fumikage’s ear.
“Unless you plan on being an Angel of Mercy in this dark abyss of a building and ascending to a higher plane, refrain from doing that again Miss Uraraka,” the dark haired man said in a deep monotone. He was the charge nurse. He could do some serious damage.
“Sorry.”
“Let me just take these,” Izuku plucked the manilla folder from Himiko’s hand. “to Doctor Soul and I'll be out.”
“Make it fast, Midoriya. He might want to keep you later than your 18,” Fumikage mumbled, his eyes laser focused on the comm device, the screen showing inventory rather than emergency inpatients.
“OHMIGOD, are you dating Rody?” Ochako leaned over the desk, getting a very displeased glare from Fumikage.
“No, Ocha, I'm not dating a doctor. Besides,” Izuku adjusted his scrub top, “I have higher standards than sleeping with coworkers.”
If Izuku had to describe Rody Soul M.D., he'd tell you the man was nothing more than a flirt with an aggressively cute personality. He liked Rody, in the most unplatonic way. Sue him, he made him laugh and was fun to share meals with.
The bundle of straight hair was always tied up in a high ponytail and frequently— close to once a week— had small plastic hair clips on the underside. Rody’s sister rather loved putting bird clips in his hair.
Today wasn't one of those days.
Rody sat at a computer in the back lounge, x-rays of a patients chest displayed next to patient history records.
“You busy?” Izuku's timid voice filled the quiet room, the soft whirring of the water dispenser spyhoning water filling the cold air otherwise.
“Never too busy for you, angel.” Rody sighed, leaning against the cushioned chair’s back and stretching his arms over his head.
*Angel.* Izuku wasn't sure where it came from, but he never minded that kind voice saying it.
“Labs came back on the young girl in Treatment 7. To quote Himi ‘Good news, she's not dying.’” Izuku smiled, handing over the folder and watching the small strip of exposed skin once again hide under the vague grey of Rody’s doctor scrubs. “I got her on a saline drip about 15 minutes ago, so she should be ready for a check-in soon. I told her and her mom to rest for about an hour.”
“Any pain since she came in?”
Izuku shook his head, watching delicate fingers — some covered in small plasters and minor cuts — flip through report pages while Rody mindfully cataloged the information away. “She's feeling cold, but BP and heartrate are normal.”
“Yeah, I bet she's cold, poor kid. Speaking of cold…” There it was. “…wanna get a cold beer with me after my shift.”
The smile — were it not so blatantly flirtatious — would have made Izuku cave in an instant if his bones didn't hurt from standing the last 17 hours, 58 minutes, and 45 seconds.
“As amazing as that offer sounds,” Izuku made his way to his cubby, pulling his white (maybe off white) cardigan and satchel bag from the hooks, and unlocking his house keys from the lockbox above. “Ochako is taking me to a coffee shop before I become dead to the world in my nice flannel sheets.”
“Next time I should join you -”
“And Fumikage is currently looking at his watch to make sure you don't keep me any later.” Izuku added hastily, leaning over Rody to see the dark haired man eyeing the electric screen on his wrist. “Next time, yeah?”
“There's always a next time with you, angel.” It sounded sad as Rody clicked open an email.
“Don't work too hard.” Izuku said, squeezing the scrub clad shoulder before scanning his badge and officially clocking out for the next 24 hours.
“Izuku,” Himiko materialized and magnatized herself to Izuku's hip as she walked him towards the exit. “You'll really like the place Pumpkin is gonna take you! Get the chocolate éclair with pistachio and walnuts and - oh yes - also get the blood orange bars.”
“Blood orange bars?” Izuku asked, adjusting his satchel so it rested on his hip and jingled the decorative bells.
“Yeah, like lemon bars, but the glorious taste of blood oranges. Ugh, now I'm jealous I can't leave.” Himiko bemoaned as she let Izuku go and replaced her hands on her partners face.
“I'll be sure to bring some home for you.” Ochako cooed, rubbing the tips of their noses together.
“You're the best.”
This was what having a soulmate was like as far as Izuku had seen. People naturally sweet, soft, and completely enraptured in the other. Morphine for broken souls.
The canoodling continued for a while longer, Izuku turning to Fumikage with a supplicative smile before ultimately linking arms with Ochako thusly ripping the lovebirds apart. Either the woman was going to get him caffeine or he wasn't going to make it home before passing out.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Izuku loved the smell of coffee. Not necessarily because of the robust and sometimes creamy waft of air that passed through a café’s threshold, but rather for the small hints of leather, frothed milk, and books that accompanied coffee.
Ochako really did have taste when it came to new places. The shop was decorated in dark wood paneling on the walls, vintage black light fixtures spread between leather booths where parties or isolating book readers occupied. The main floor was covered in an array of carpets varying from deep mustard to rich chocolate and well-lacquered tables sat atop them with dark metal legs. The industrialism of the light fixtures and tables was cut by the gray cushions on every chair.
It felt warm, inviting, and down right peaceful compared to the blue lights and white walls of the ED.
“OK, so,” Ochako laced her arm in Izuku's and led him to the counter where a baritsa was restocking the pastry shelves. “We are gonna sit down, have some coffee, wait for you to start nodding off in that leather sofa, and I'll drive you home!”
“I can walk from here. You know I don't live far from the hospital.” Izuku protested, his arm gripping tighter to lock Ochako’s arm. He was barely standing and they both knew it.
“As if I'd let you walk home lookin like that.”
“Like what? Tired, Exhausted, Sexually frustrated?”
“Something like that. Ooo, what do you want? Their Café au Lait is to die for.”
It was fairly obvious the menu had been written in colored pens — some words were harder to read against the blackboard and some small decorations were drawn on as well. It wasn't a menu displayed on an overhang, it was a small stand in front of the register with a cute twine held sign reading: Menu changes regularly to encourage courageous choices.
Poetic for a coffee shop.
“Can I get a dark chocolate matcha ristretto?” Izuku asked the cashier. The girl behind the counter punched in his order on the touchscreen, her eyes covered by the dark bill of her hat and her name tag covered by a thick braid.
“And for the misses?”
“HAH!” Ochako chortled, spit catching in the back of her throat causing a coughing fit that had her sputtering into her elbow. “Oh man, I'm not his wife, sweetie.”
The cashier blushed and opened her mouth to apologize. Ochako continued, voice as chipper as ever, “I would like a vanilla bean Cafe au Lait with whipped cream and some chestnut shavings, please. And I’d also like to order us a few pastries!”
“I can get my own food.” Izuku grumbled, eyeing the fresh goods and noticing how the world went in and out of a blurry fog.
“And I’m sure your feet are very well equipped for about ten more minutes of standing before they give out, Mister Overtime.” Ochako teased before turning back to the barista.
Izuku focused on the grounding warmth in his arm, tried to not let the smooth scent of steamed milk and leather lull him to sleep on his feet. He wasn’t a damn horse. The barista repeated the order back to them and accepted to split the bill between their cards, at least she didn’t seem to mind the extra hassle of the transaction.
“Go find us a seat, I’ll wait for our orders.” Ochako pushed Izuku off her arm, practically abandoning Izuku where he stood like the cruel woman she was.
“Fine, but if I fall asleep, you’re not abandoning me here.”
“No promises, hun.”
Izuku giggled to himself, hands anchoring on his satchel straps and scanning the cafe for open seats. Most of the space was occupied, morning commuters and early rise students taking up the tables and chairs that could have occupied more than a single body. He wasn’t grumbling under his breath about them being inconsiderate, no way. He would never.
He scanned the booth area of the cafe and saw it was blessedly open, the leather seats and dim lighting perfect for his fluorescent tired eyes. His only task now was to stay upright long enough to skirt around the short line separating him from his destined sleeping corner. Izuku pulled his bag into himself and prepared to squeeze passed a rather tall set of men, when the slightly shorter man backed into Izuku.
“Oh, I’m sorry-" On instinct, Izuku reached out for his arm, an instinct engraved into his being from stabilizing fainting trauma patients and persons experiencing late stage whiplash. That’s when it happened. The dizzying flood of color vibrating from where his fingers wrapped around the thick forearm, he was consumed by unfamiliar shades and vibrancy that assaulted his senses. He could taste the walls that dripped an unfamiliar color and his body quaked as he saw the bright display of the carpets real shades. They weren’t just yellow and brown, they didn’t meld quaintly with the industrial feel of the place.
He could feel his body tremble and, as his mind came reeling back into focus, he could tell he wasn’t the only one shaking. Dark eyes found his and a shared discomfort passed between Izuku and the blond he has accidentally latched onto for dear life.
His soulmate looked less than pleased to share this experience with him.