How I Met Your Mother

 Izuku Midoriya had spent the better part of the past hour sitting in the end seat of one of the many couches littering the common area of the class 1-A dormitory, his head resting in the crook of his arm as he leaned over sleepily on the arm rest. His eyes stared half-lidded at the large TV mounted on the opposite wall, the final inning of a major-league baseball game playing out on the massive screen. Izuku wasn't terribly interested in the outcome of the game, if he was being honest. He'd always been more of a soccer fan anyway. Of course, that didn't mean there weren't others present that were quite a bit more invested.

"C'mon, Yamada! This guy can't hit the broad side of a barn! Pitch it straight over the plate and strike his ass out!" came Kirishima's impassioned cries from the seat just next to Midoriya's, though his speech came out a bit muddled from being locked in a tight headlock, his cheek pressed firmly against Bakugo's chest.

"Fuck that shit! Yamada couldn't pitch his way out of a paper bag! Fuckin' kill that bastard, Rekishiyoma!" the explosive teen bellowed out, almost seeming unaware of how he was crushing his friend's skull between his bicep and pec.

"Jeez, chill out, guys. It's only a game..." Kaminari commented from a safe distance over on one of the other couches, but he was more or less ignored by the two warring hot-heads.

Midoriya couldn't help but smile lightly at the commotion, even though it was the only thing keeping him from drifting off to sleep right there. Kacchan finally seemed to be opening up a little, even if it only seemed to be when Kirishima was present. At least it kept him from brooding all day up in his room. Izuku could be thankful for small victories, at the very least.

Not surprisingly, all of the noise from the common room meant that the sound of the main door opening went mostly unnoticed by all. It was only when Uraraka's startled voice squeaked out that anyone realized that someone had entered the building.

"A-All Might! Wh-what brings you out here so late, sir?"

Midoriya sat bolt upright upon hearing that, not a trace of sleep in his eyes. All Might was there?!

"Oh, it's nothing really. I just stopped by to drop something off. Is young Midoriya around, by any chance?"

Izuku's eyes seemed to widen still when he heard the gentle voice of his mentor drift into the common room. It really was him. But why? If he needed to talk about something that couldn't wait until morning he'd usually send his successor a text to meet him out in the park. Why show up at the dorms like this? Before his classmate could take so much as a step to come get him, Midoriya had already vaulted over the back of the couch and was in front of All Might in an instant.

"Wh-whoah there, kid. Put the brakes on a little, would ya? There's no emergency, so just relax," the skeletal man assured with a peremptory hand raised, clearly a bit startled by his student's urgency. Midoriya couldn't help but blink up at him in confusion.

"There isn't? Then... Why'd you come all the way out here so late? Isn't your apartment like a twenty-minute walk from the school?"

"Oh my god, you know where his apartment is? You're such a fanboy..."

Midoriya tried his best to ignore the teasing comment and subsequent giggling from Ashido somewhere behind him, though he couldn't stop the embarrassed blush that spread across his cheeks because of it. All Might was kind enough not to bring attention to it, merely holding up the small box he'd carried in his off hand. Izuku's brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at it. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he recognized the cloth it was wrapped in...

"Your mother wanted me to drop this off for you. She's worried you're not getting enough to eat in the evenings now that you're here in the dorms," All Might explained with what could only be described as a bashful grin, a hand moving up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. He then passed the wrapped box to the young teen, at which point Midoriya could very distinctly smell the comforting scent of his mom's cooking emanating from within. A bento box?