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Izuku notices it for the first time in their second year.
Todoroki-kun’s face will twitch just barely when he’s spoken to, when his name is called in class. His smile will falter when someone drops it in a conversation with him.
And it won’t happen when they are out for internships and go by their aliases.
It makes sense, in hindsight, that he’d hate his surname, this glaring association with his father’s legacy something he can never truly escape.
(Endeavor might have gotten better, just barely, but what does that matter compared to years of abuse?)
He wants to ask him about it, but doesn’t know how.
In the end he decides that it’s better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, in cases like this.
“Good morning, Shouto-kun,” he greets him one day before class, hands sweaty and eyes steeled with determination, meeting his shocked gaze head on. “Wanna walk to class together?”
Something unreadable flashes in his eyes, but they are soft around the edges, so it’s probably not something bad. “Sure, I’d like that… Izuku.”
Oh.
Oh shit.
He hadn’t expected that.
Well fuck.
He was such a disaster.
Izuku drops the honorific in their third year, after their first kiss, and Shouto beams.
Izuku hates reporters.
(Aizawa-sensei would be so proud)
“Todoroki-san!” His boyfriend flinches just barely before he turns to the bright purple woman holding out a microphone, teeth like razor edges. “Could we have any comments on your parents’ recent divorce? How do you feel about it?”
“Good for her,” Shouto deadpans and Izuku chokes on his own spit and laughter. “Is that all?”
“Oh, uh-,”
“Great. Bye.”
“Mom changed her name back to her maiden name,” Shouto says that evening. They are lounging on their couch eating takeout and watching cartoons, their cat pressed to Shouto’s left thigh and purring up a storm. He scratches her behind the ears with a soft smile on his face.
“Good,” Izuku mutters, not at all miffed that Catsudon is playing blatant favorites like the traitor she is.
Shouto just hums, a weird look in his eyes.
“Ne, Shouto?”
“Yeah?” He turns to look at him, face open and content the way it always is when he says his first name.
“Your surname sucks, you should take mine instead.”
They are silent for a long moment that should be awkward but isn’t until Shouto breaks it with a sudden snort, finally breaking into breathless laughter that scares Catsudon into abandoning her own personal heater.
“That,” he gasps, holding his stomach with tears running down his cheeks. “Was the worst proposal in the world, Izuku.”
Izuku shrugs. “Is that a no?”
“Of course not, you dork,” Shouto leans in, cupping his cheeks and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, lips lingering for just a moment longer than they need to. “I’d love to take your name.”
The next time they run into a reporter they call him “Midoriya Shouto-san” and Shouto beams.