Work Text:
Dawn peeks from the clouds overhead, the sun’s first rays staining everything lavender. It’s pretty, and Izuku spares the sky a glance as he jogs across the street. A gust of wind tickles at his cheeks and tugs at his hair and coat, and Izuku suppresses a shiver. It’s a brisk morning; he can see his breath in puffs as he walks, and he burrows deeper into his jacket. Luckily, it’s not too cold to walk to work, but it’s cold enough that his face starts to feel tingly.
The morning is calm, quiet, like the city around him is still fast asleep. It’s not unwelcome; Izuku enjoys the quiet. It’s a nice way to wake up before the craziness of the day starts. He crosses another street, the massive aquarium’s building coming into view.
Yueii Aquarium. He gets jitters whenever he thinks about it. He works there. Well. Interns, technically. Though he just got accepted for a paid position there, in the exhibits team, after his internship ends.
The thought has him grinning.
Izuku pulls out his badge and scans his way into the building. Ishiyama, the head property screener, offers a quiet “Hello,” as he inspects Izuku’s lunchbox, and Izuku waves as he fully enters the facility.
The quiet of the morning continues into the unoccupied halls of the administrative portion of the aquarium. The administrators are usually in an hour or so prior to opening, so it’s going to be quiet for awhile. Izuku makes his way to the break room to stow his lunchbox and coat, before clocking in and heading back of house.
He grabs his keys and makes his rounds; water samples from their coverage tanks, and water samples from the cold and warm weather penguin exhibits.
Izuku’s mentor is none other than Toshinori Yagi, the penguin biologist at Yueii. He’s in charge of both the warm and cold weather exhibits, and covers for the shark touch tank and the reptile room. It’s a varied group of animals, and Izuku loves it. Of course, he works primarily with the penguins.
He jiggles the keys and yanks open the back of house door to cold penguin, precariously balancing his water sample tray. Today’s samples are just from the shark touch tank and from the two penguin pools; an easy day. Izuku closes the door behind him with a sigh.
There’s signs of his mentor’s presence; music trickling in from the kitchen, the steaming coffee mug on the desk, surrounded by scattered pages of coverage notes and penguin notes. Izuku chuckles and shakes his head. Maybe he’ll see him, at some point. Toshinori was always busy running around in the morning. All the biologists are, really. Mornings are hectic things. They check pumps, and animals, and meet with the vet tech… There’s a lot to do, and only so much time.
Izuku works his way to the rack of rubber boots, and pulls down a pair. He tugs them on and steps into a bucket filled with Nolvasan, before yanking open another door.
The back of house area for cold penguin is a bit of a maze. First comes the life support for the pool, and all its pipes. Across the way and on the opposite wall sits the desk and an assortment of shelves with books and binders and tools, among other things. There’s also a kitchen, at the sharp right from the first door, and in the back is the hallway that leads to the exhibit space. The hallway is filled with equipment that hangs neatly on the walls; jackets, overalls, scrub brushes, squeegees, nets, and things of the like.
At the end of the hall, lies the door to the cold room. Izuku shivers as he trundles inside. It should come as no surprise that the room is kept cold; it’s a space where the penguins can wander into when they’re working on exhibit, should they choose. And since these penguins are most comfortable in the cold, the room is maintained accordingly. Izuku turns and pulls open the final door; the exhibit door.
Immediately, he’s met with the loud, shrill screams of the macaroni penguins in the loft. Izuku snorts. Dorks. He jogs up the four little steps, water sample tray hugged close to his chest. A few gentoo penguins mill at his feet, heads tilting as they stare up at him. “Morning, Frosty,” he says, reaching down to scratch one on the neck. Frosty blinks and arches his neck, before waddling away.
Izuku shakes his head with a chuckle. Frosty likes attention, but only on his terms. Sometimes, that means standing on Izuku’s feet for three hours while he tries to shovel snow. Other times, it means exactly one scratch before waddling off and jumping into the pool.
Speaking of the pool…
He picks his way carefully around the penguins and fetches the first water sample. Once the cap is screwed on tight, Izuku picks his way back to the door and exits the exhibit space. One switch back to his workboots later, and Izuku’s jogging up the steps to the warm weather penguins.
The Penguin House, their exhibit, lives behind the scenes. It can be partially viewed by guests, if they get close to the gate at the shark tank viewing space. But they can’t get close enough for a proper look unless they purchase a penguin encounter, which is an educational program they use these penguins for. That, and they go out into the community to educate, as well.
Izuku scans his badge and steps into the space. It’s dark, still; their light cycle is a little different than the cold weather penguins.
The birds still rouse themselves, one or two slowly waddling over to the corral gate. Izuku reaches over to give them a scratch before stepping into the main house to collect his water sample. He records temperature, and picks his way quietly and carefully back to the corral.
There, water samples acquired. Now to drop them off at the lab. Izuku hums to himself as he leaves the House, pausing to tug at the door and ensure it’s locked.
Time for things to really swing into gear.
~*~
The day passes in a blur of activity. Izuku spends most of it scrubbing both penguin exhibits; the cleaning rituals for penguins is intense. They spray everything down with a powerful hose, and scrub . Everything. Top to bottom. Which usually means Izuku is quite literally on his hands and knees, especially when he’s in the loft. The hard part, of course, is keeping the penguins from getting too close to his face.
They might be adorable, but they sure can peck an eye out. And Izuku likes his eyes, thank you very much.
Scrubbing up in the Penguin House is a little less difficult, if only because there’s less penguins. And the girls are more polite, somehow, usually staying out of Izuku’s way as he furiously scrubs at the many poop smears on the floor. The cold weather penguins are not as polite. They often get up in his space, as if to say, what are you doing? Some of them even get angry and try to bite Izuku.
He still has a nasty bruise left by Cooper, just last week.
The other half of his day is spent washing and prepping fish. An overabundance of herring. The penguins manage to eat over sixty pounds of fish altogether everyday, which means many, many buckets filled to the brim. That’s not to mention the wild organization that goes into play; there’s a vitamin regimen and some penguins that need medication of varying sorts, thanks to old age conditions like arthritis. So, Izuku pills lots of fish.
It’s only mildly unpleasant. As long as he ignores the glassy, beady eyes of the dead fish he’s holding, he can zone out and pill fifty fish in twenty minutes.
“Alright,” Toshinori says, as he slams an armload of empty metal buckets into the sink, “I think it’s lunch time.”
Izuku hums. They’ve just spent about an hour feeding the birds, and Izuku’s stomach is growling . Food sounds amazing right now. He reaches for the sponge and dish soap. “Yeah, let me just clean-”
“No, no, my boy, please,” Toshinori says. “Go to lunch. I can take care of these.” He waves as if to shoo Izuku, which has Izuku frowning.
“A-are you sure, sensei? I can do them, it’s no problem-”
Toshinori chuckles, his tired eyes gleaming. “I’m sure, young Midoriya. Please, go eat.” He pulls the sponge and soap from Izuku’s grasp and busies himself with turning on the sink. Izuku hesitates, watching his mentor roll up his jacket sleeves and start to scrub. He absolutely hates to abandon Toshinori with a task that needs to be completed. It feels wrong, somehow. But Toshinori is a stubborn man, and he would absolutely carry Izuku upstairs to the breakroom himself, if necessary. Which is a rather scary thought, considering how thin and frail the man appears. But Izuku’s seen him carry boxes of fish that weigh upwards of sixty pounds each. Toshinori may look frail, but he’s strong.
Izuku shakes his head and sighs. Well, lunch it is, he supposes.
~*~
The break room is bustling with activity when Izuku arrives. There’s boisterous laughter from the end of the tables, and people darting to and fro as they jump to the microwaves to prepare their food. Izuku carefully shuffles his way in and heads to one of the two refrigerators. He pulls his lunchbox off the shelf and scans the room in search of an open seat.
There’s one, smack in the middle of the chaos.
Izuku hovers and bites his lip. Should he perhaps go sit in the husbandry office and eat? It’s certainly much quieter, there. Less people, less chance of him tripping his way through social interaction.
See, it’s not that he dislikes people. Quite the contrary, Izuku loves people! He’s just... really bad at interacting with others. Izuku can’t help but feel nervous around new people, and when he’s nervous, he rambles, and when he rambles, he puts people off, and then he feels awkward because now they’re just staring at him like he has three heads, and, and… Izuku cuts off his meandering thoughts.
No, no. Not going down that rabbit hole. So he’s bad at people. So what? He’s good with animals, and that’s all that really matters, right?
Izuku turns to march back to the husbandry office, but he pauses. Well…it might matter a little...he’s going to probably work with some of these people, anyways. Right? So sitting here can’t hurt. He doesn’t even have to talk! Just eat his food. Yeah. Izuku nods to himself and sucks in a breath, before whirling around and claiming the last open seat.
He trembles a bit as he works his lunchbox open, but no one pays him any mind, and Izuku starts to relax. Conversations of all sorts coalesce in the space, filling the air with a sense of joviality. Izuku settles further into his seat and eats, content.
“So, ‘Chako, how’s your first day on your own?”
Why the words snatch Izuku’s focus is lost on him, but he finds himself peeking up over his yogurt cup. His eyes go wide when he takes in the girl sitting directly across the table; she’s perfectly adorable. Short, mousy colored hair that frames her face just so, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. She’s wearing a dark navy polo- guest facing, he presumes- and she shakes her head with a laugh. “Well, it’s certainly interesting, at least.”
“How so?”
The girl- ‘Chako, was it?- sighs and sets her sandwich down. “Well, I had a kid try to grab a stingray. So that was fun.”
Her friend winces. “That’s not good.”
“I might have yelled a little too aggressively at him, too.” She’s got her face in her hands now, her expression collapsing into something pained. Izuku feels something twist inside him at the sight; it’s like the sun vanished behind some storm clouds. He’s hit with a desire to do something, to say something, anything to bring that sunshine back. It burns inside him, and Izuku finds that he’s opening his mouth before he has anything to say.
“It’s okay, Ochako, we’ve all been there.” The other girl beats Izuku to the punch, patting Ochako, or Uraraka Ochako , according to the nametag fixed neatly to her polo, on the shoulder. “You just care about the animals, which is a good thing,” she says, her voice like a croak. Uraraka peeks at her through her fingers.
“You think so?”
The other girl, Asui Tsuyu , according to her nametag, smiles. “Of course. I cannot tell you how often I’ve yelled at guests for attempting to pick up sea stars.”
Izuku resumes eating his yogurt, face warm. He feels as though he’s intruded, somehow, even though all he’s done is eat his yogurt and peek at their nametags. Still, his cheeks burn, and he resolves to finish eating as quickly as possible and make his escape.
No one seems to notice when Izuku rises from his seat and beelines it for the back of house doors, his mind still stuck on a pair of pretty, ochre eyes.
~*~
Shoveling snow is not something Izuku ever expected to do on a frequent basis. At least, not in the context of an internship. There wasn’t an info blurb anywhere online that said, oh by the way, you’re going to shovel snow for an hour every day.
Not that he minds. It can be cathartic, sometimes. When he’s not thinking about numb fingers and slippery footing and trying not to kick Frosty, who insists on sitting practically on his boots while he works.
Okay, so shoveling the snow kind of sucks. A lot.
See, the cold weather penguins have a snow making machine. Which is ultimately pretty cool; it’s accessible for the animal care team upstairs, above the exhibit, and can be turned on and left on for however long is deemed fit. Of course, leave it on too long and the snow machine creates a massive pile that’s a pain in the butt to clean up the next day. Toshinori usually leaves it on for a few hours, and turns it off before the evening feed.
And then Izuku, the lucky intern that he is, gets the honor of shoveling it and spreading the snow around for the birds to share.
Or. Try to, anyway.
The problem arises in that the exhibit is kept at a cool forty degrees air temperature. Which, gets cold after a few minutes for the keepers. But for the snow, it’s just above freezing. So it melts a bit. Or, rather, goes from loose snow to a hard mound of ice. Which is why Izuku is currently perched precariously on said snowpile and using the shovel like a misshapen pick axe, whacking away at the ice to make it more scoopable.
Frosty the gentoo chirrups from his place on the rock to his left, head curled. Izuku huffs and throws him a look. “Sorry, Frosty, I’m a little busy here.”
He just bobs his head and chirrups again, and Izuku caves with a sigh. He reaches over and scratches Frosty’s neck, much to the penguin’s pleasure. “There. Happy?” Izuku asks. Frosty bobs his head and squints his eyes.
Izuku shakes his head and snickers. Silly bird. He turns back to the snowpile and readjusts his grip on the shovel. Time to return to the task at hand. Izuku sucks in a breath and whacks at the icey snowpile, sending some chips loose. After a few rounds of this, he gets bold.
The snowpile sits at a slant against the rocky wall leading up to the loft. There’s some rocks that jut out, so the penguins can utilize their natural ability to climb and hop, and the ones under the snow machine are caked in ice. They always have to try and shave some of the ice off, to keep any of the birds from slipping and falling. Currently, Izuku has to sort of lean to reach it, which. On a slippery slope like this, is less than desirable. He adjusts his grip on the shovel and steps closer.
It’s when he steps down with his left foot that Izuku knows he’s made a mistake. The snow underfoot isn’t as soft as he thought; it’s solid ice, and his foot slides out from under him. Almost in slow motion, Izuku feels himself pitch forward. He drops the shovel and throws his arms out with a yelp. There’s a metallic clatter- the shovel, presumably- and a squawk rang out behind him.
Ow.
He lands hard.
The shock of the impact runs through his nerves like a wildfire in dry brush. He gasps out a groan. Shit , that hurts. Izuku takes a moment to breathe. He wiggles his fingers and toes; nothing seems broken. Which. Good. Sucking in a breath, he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, and carefully stands.
Luckily, the ice holds this time around.
Izuku huffs out a sigh. Well, this is embarrassing. Luckily it’s just him and the penguins- or. Wait. He’s on exhibit right now. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Izuku bites his lip so hard, it stings. Surely, they’re slow today, right? No one would be there, on the other side of the acrylic...right?
He risks a glance over his shoulder.
It’s always hard to see on the other side. The exhibit is bright, like daytime, while the guest side is cast in shadows. But when Izuku looks, he can see someone standing right beside the acrylic, a familiar pair of brown eyes wide with shock. He flushes brightly, his stomach dropping.
It’s the girl from earlier. Uraraka. Oh, god.
Izuku whirls back around and scoops his shovel off the ground. Embarrassment floods him with heat, and Izuku contemplates shoving his face into the snow. Maybe if he just shovels enough, he can bury himself into an icy grave. Forever.
He certainly can’t turn back around, not while people are there. Not while she’s there.
His thoughts are interrupted by a chirrup, and Izuku glances down to see Frosty beside him once more. He sighs.
Well. At least the penguins like him.
~*~
“Alright, here you go.”
Izuku grasps the bag, filled with uniform polos, information pamphlets, among other things needed for his official start day with the exhibits team. It’s after five, now; Toshinori had only just cut him loose twenty minutes prior. So, he’d decided to swing by the HR office and see about picking up his uniform. There’s only a few weeks left of the summer, after all, and that means his paid job starts soon.
“Thank you,” he says. Inui, the HR representative, just grins. His grin is wolfish, somehow, with larger than average canines that give the man a rather intimidating appearance. It’s unnerving, at first. Izuku remembers the first time he met the man; he’d nearly jumped out of his skin when Inui smiled at him, then.
“No prob, kiddo.” He turns back to his computer, Izuku’s signal to leave.
The hallway is quiet as Izuku steps out of the office. Most of the administrators have gone home for the day by now, so the usual bustle of chatter is vacant. Izuku sighs and hefts his stuffed bag over his shoulder. Already, his muscles throb and ache. A full day of scrubbing and running around is starting to catch up with him. Plus, his embarrassing fall earlier left him with quite the bruise on his arm. It hurts a bit when he bumps into things.
Izuku’s mind supplies the image of his couch in all its plush glory, and he bites back a groan. Oh, what he’d give to just teleport home right now.
His mind is a hazy fog as he makes his way towards the exit, so much so that he somehow manages to walk right into something. One moment, he’s watching his scuffed red sneakers, eyelids heavy, and the next, he’s hitting something warm and solid and stumbling back, his arms flying up to regain balance and his belongings flinging into space and hitting the floor.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” a voice squeaks. Izuku blinks, steadying himself.
“I-it’s okay, It’s uh, probably my fault anyway…” He looks up, his gaze crashing into that of a familiar warm one. Izuku’s heart leaps into his throat. Oh. Oh, shit. It’s her . Uraraka Ochako, the pretty girl from lunch, who saw him completely wipe out on exhibit only a mere two hours ago, standing here before him in the flesh.
Izuku feels his face heat. Oh, what he’d give for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, right now. His gaze drops to his feet instantly, and wow, is it hot in here all of a sudden?
“I mean, I was totally not watching where I was going!” Uraraka cries. Izuku peeks up at her through his lashes; she’s cradling a hand on her cheek, her eyes wide and brimming with guilt. His chest squeezes strangely at the sight, and Izuku bites his lip. He watches as she flails, her cropped hair bouncing, and sets about collecting his fallen things. Izuku sucks in a shaky breath. He should move, help her. Those are his things, after all. But he feels frozen to the spot, as though his limbs turned to ice.
“Here!” She thrusts his bag of uniform shirts into his chest. The action seems to stir him out of his stupor, and Izuku reaches up to clutch the bag.
“Th-thanks,” he says, voice wavering. Internally, he cringes. Geeze, he’s bad at this. Uraraka doesn’t seem to notice or really care; she leans back, hands clasped and eyes wide.
“No, it’s okay. Like I said, I totally wasn’t watching where I was going, so it’s my fault.”
It really isn’t, he wasn’t watching either , and Izuku opens his mouth to argue the matter, but his vocal chords don’t seem to want to work right, leaving him gawking awkwardly as Uraraka rambles on.
“It’s just been such a long day, and I guess I’m tired, ya’ know? Really, I’m so sorry, I’m just a bit of a clutz, it seems.” Uraraka laughs, rubbing the back of her neck. Izuku can only make a strangled noise in response. It seems to snag her attention, and she’s tilting her head and peering at him with furrowed brows. His face, already warm, flares even hotter, and Izuku clutches his bags so tight that his fingers start to tingle. What…?
Uraraka gasps, her eyes going wide. “Oh! You’re the guy that slipped and fell in the penguin exhibit!”
Yep. Izuku wants to die, now.
“Gosh, that looked like it hurt,” she says. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
Izuku sighs. He shakes his head. “H-hurt? No…” Not really, anyway. One bruise isn’t anything to worry about, in Izuku’s mind. Embarrassed? So much so. He doesn’t say that though, as words don’t seem to be working very well. Uraraka seems to notice, and takes pity on him.
“That’s good.” There’s a beat of silence. She bites her lip, her rosy cheeks seeming to darken. “Oh! I’m Uraraka, by the way. Uraraka Ochako! And you are?”
Izuku blinks. “Mi-Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku.” He watches, rapt, as she raises a hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s nice to meet you, Midoriya-kun.”
“Yuh-you too.”
She smiles, the sight enough to make his heart stutter in his chest. “Well, I need to go… I hope I’ll see you around…?”
“Yeah! I uh, same.”
That bright, warm grin returns, and Izuku feels like he’s basking in the sun. She waves, then, and steps around him, practically floating down the hallway. Izuku watches her go, awestruck.
Perhaps he’s made a fool of himself, but Izuku can’t think to regret it now. He feels...like he’s made a friend. Maybe. A grin melts across his lips.