Chapter Text
Ochako usually found the entire experience of travelling back to her childhood home intensely exhausting. But it turned out to be much better when there was someone to share it with. All of the dumb boring stuff became instantly more fun; they'd pick their snacks out of vending machines at each station and stash them into already stuffed-full pockets, discuss what hot drinks they were going to buy from the convenience cart on each train like it was a life-changing decision, and even finding their seat numbers as they walked down the carriage became a game.
The biggest problem with travelling back into the country (in the middle of nowhere) was that there were no direct train routes, and it meant that they had a significant amount of transfers to get there. The first few were in sleek, speedy trains, and the last few were in smaller, more local rickety things. (Which Ochako secretly loved because she enjoyed the clacking sound of the tracks and the swaying motion of them.)
Ochako even had great fun pointing out her favourite parts of each station they stopped at, as if she were showing off her knowledge of another world. (She took Izuku’s encouraging smile and exclamations of wonder and surprise as a good sign that she wasn’t weird for having favourite parts of train stations in the first place.) She’d visited her hometown enough times from the city to have discovered all the hidden secrets of each station, and she was almost vibrating with her excitement to show them all to Izuku as they killed time waiting at each one for their next connection. She knew all the great photo spots, the comfiest seats, the least busy timetable to stand at, the cleanest toilets, and even that one old vending machine that sometimes spat out two bars of chocolate instead of one. She knew where there were tiny cafés that served the most amazing pastries, and which stations had high bridges over their tracks that connected one side to the other, that made them both jump whenever a high-speed train passed through without stopping, right beneath their feet. She giggled at Izuku's yelp of surprise when it first happened, barely able to hear herself over the noise.
At one of Ochako's favourite stations they sat down in a café she'd discovered by accident one trip, squirrelled away into a small unassuming corner. The place was cosy and sweet, with slow relaxing music drifting out from a hidden speaker that helped to cover the noise from the trains nearby, and it always smelt amazing. (They did the best cheese toasties she'd ever eaten.)
Steam from their lattes curled and swirled into the air between them, their suitcases sat beside their chairs, and only the crumbs remained of their toasties. Izuku even smiled and nodded encouragingly the whole time that she talked about the differences in coffee roasting techniques, which she could never help whenever they went to a café. She stopped mid-sentence when she realised that she was probably being boring and rubbed a finger over the scar in her hairline, that was quickly becoming a nervous habit, but Izuku reached across and held her hand. She squeezed it gently until she looked back up at him, and he was smiling even wider than before, all teeth and freckles, with his green eyes nearly crinkled shut. Ochako felt her heart thump in her chest, as the feeling that she was so lucky to be there with him warmed her head to toe.
He looked around and motioned for her to lean closer. She stood up from her chair a little, tilting towards him, and he quickly leaned across the table to give her a chaste kiss – just a small, sweet press of their lips.
Ochako immediately sat back down and hid her smiling, blushing face in her hands. When she peeked back up, Izuku was smiling widely and the bridge of his nose was so red it nearly hid his freckles.
After they finally took their seats on the biggest train of their journey (that Izuku blurted out looked more like the inside of a plane), Ochako sighed with relief and slipped her shoes straight off. She glanced over at him, expecting judgement and ready to explain that it was just comfier, but he was also leaning down to untie the laces on his favourite red boots. He tried to lean down further, obviously struggling in the small space, and jumped as he bumped his head on the seat in front of him. Ochako smiled and slid off her seat to crouch in the narrow footwell, untying his shoes with increasingly shaking fingers as she realised she’d moved without really thinking about it and that she was now trapped, crouched down between his legs. She kept her eyes firmly on Izuku’s shoes. Once she was done she realised that she had managed to wedge herself in and couldn’t quite pull herself back out again, so he had to reach down and help her up and she practically had to crawl over him to get back into her seat. (Though she was tempted to just roll straight out of it and run away.)
She couldn’t look at him for a while, embarrassed by her burning cheeks, and she wondered if he looked the same.
(When she imagined them in that kind of position it certainly wasn’t in a train, in public, while she was untying his shoelaces and then having to be helped up like a sack of potatoes because she’d gotten stuck.)
Izuku made sure they took it in turns to walk the length of the carriage every once in a while to keep their legs from cramping, and Ochako had even remembered to take her motion sickness medicine (that she usually forgot to bring) so she didn’t mind walking around on a moving train for once.
They sat touching shoulders for a portion of the journey, leaning against each other and sharing the same headphones. She was impressed that he never said anything about her habit of listening to half of a song and then skipping to the next track. Whenever she peeked over at him, he had his eyes closed, but every time a particularly sappy song came on he would squeeze her hand, so she knew he wasn’t asleep. (She was glad he had his eyes closed because then he couldn’t see how lame she was by just that small action making her blush.) (But she couldn’t be blamed when the song lyrics were enough to make her want to cry on their own, but he’d squeeze her hand as if to say, ‘that’s me and you’.)
The last couple of trains were small rickety things at stations with only two platforms and a little wooden desk to buy your tickets. Izuku was just as interested in those as he was in the huge ones, getting more excited at the sprawling fields and hills speeding past the windows, because it was closer to where she had grown up.
It surprised her to learn that he’d never been to the country, and she was excited that her hometown would be his first experience of it. Although she pre-warned him about the number of nosy locals who can’t mind their own business who would be commenting on him and Ochako ‘courting’ – like they’d just stepped out of the eighteen-hundreds.
But that didn’t seem to put him off either.
Ochako didn’t realise she’d fallen asleep on the last leg of their journey until Izuku was gently tapping her cheek and she blinked her sleepy eyes open. She blamed the motion sickness medication for making her drowsy, but the sun had already gone down and she had been leant up against Izuku’s warm body, lulled to sleep by the sway of the rickety carriage and the clack of the old-fashioned tracks.
She leapt up and nearly tripped over her own suitcase (no fancy luggage carts on the local trains) but Izuku put out a steadying hand on her arm. She flashed him a grateful smile and then they both scrambled to make it to the doors as the train stopped. They practically leaped out and pulled their luggage down onto the platform with them, just before the doors slid shut behind them.
Just once she’d like to get off a train like a normal person, instead of barely making it by the skin of her teeth.
Her mom was waiting further down the platform, waving and shouting her name and Ochako waved back with enthusiasm.
She sent out a silent prayer that her parents had taken down the baby photos from the walls like she’d asked, and that they wouldn’t tell embarrassing stories of her youth playing outside with Iida.
As they approached, Izuku introduced himself (with only a touch of his nervous stutter) and held out his hand for her mom to shake – but with his one hand held out for her mom, and the other immediately snapping to his side with his nerves, nothing was holding his suitcase upright, so it fell to the ground with a clatter.
Ochako dove for it, just as he did, so they ended up jumping back before they hit their heads together.
She tried to apologise while he tried to apologise at the same time, and they both ended up laughing. Ochako almost forgot her mom was there until she heard a tiny giggle. When she finally turned back she was smiling tenderly at them both. Izuku picked up his case and tried his introduction again (though it still contained a bit of his stutter) and they shook hands with a smile.
“No need to be so formal, Izuku,” her mom said, with a touch of mischief and a twinkle in her eyes, “please just call me mom.”
Ochako groaned at her awful sense of humour while Izuku squeaked an uncertain, “O-Oh, okay.”
“Sorry, Izuku, you'll get used to my parents - they live to embarrass me. Call them whatever you feel comfortable with.” Ochako stuck her tongue out at her mom and she stuck out hers right back.
Izuku gave a small nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.
Her mom motioned towards her car. “We all ready to go? It’s a little bit of a drive back to the village,” she said in a light tone, as they made their way over.
“It’s a boring drive back to the village,” Ochako huffed.
“Here, M-Mrs Uraraka, I'll get the cases,” Izuku offered, only stumbling slightly over how to address her.
It made both mother and daughter smile at each other as he heaved the cases into the trunk of her mom's car. She mouthed, 'I'm proud of you', while he wasn't watching, pointing at him enthusiastically, and Ochako hid her blushing face in her hands again.
Her mom wasn't put off by the embarrassment she caused, and only smiled wider. “We all set?”
There was a chorus of agreement as Izuku and Ochako climbed into the car - both getting into the back.
“Great! So, while we're on this long drive, why don’t you tell me the story of how you both met?”
Izuku made a choking sound and Ochako tried her best to hold in the hiss of laughter that was threatening to escape. “I’m not sure it’ll fit into the drive actually,” she eventually managed.
“Oh, really?”
“It’s a funny story,” Izuku added.
“Well now I have to hear it!”
“Well...” Ochako began. The engine started and Izuku reached over for her hand. She linked them together and he smiled. “So, there was this guy living below me, who had a really loud alarm clock, that always woke me up at the crack of dawn...”