Chapter Text
It’s a sunny, breezy day in Musutafu when Fumikage gets the phone call.
He’s at home reading an article about observations made regarding Eurasian sparrows in the spring. Keigo is at work, so Fumikage hasn’t bothered with headphones and has simply opted to let music play through his bluetooth speakers as background noise instead, halfway tuning the song out as he reads the article at a leisurely pace. It’s not dull coursework; he’s reading this purely out of his own curiosity and interest, which is why he’s so deeply immersed in it. Enough so that he misses it when his phone buzzes with one text message, then two.
Then his phone starts buzzing in earnest with an incoming phone call, and Fumikage regains awareness of his surroundings again.
He grabs his phone and sees that the caller ID indicates Midoriya, which is strange. They’re friends, but not the kind to contact each other often out of the blue.
Puzzled, Fumikage takes the call. “Yes, Midoriya?”
“Hey, Tokoyami!” Midoriya’s voice is bright and friendly, so it doesn’t seem like anything is wrong. “Are you busy right now?”
“Not particularly.” Fumikage pauses the music playing from his speakers. “Is something the matter?”
“Well.” Midoriya drags the word out, his tone turning a little sheepish and apologetic all at once in a way that is quite suspicious. “Kacchan got injured in an accident—”
Fumikage nearly drops his phone. “He what?”
“It wasn’t too serious!” Midoriya assures him, his words tumbling out in a rush as he continues to explain at maximum speed. “Some debris fell on him while we were at a fire and it dislocated his shoulder and also kinda bruised his ribs, but the shoulder’s been dealt with and he just needs some rest!”
“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on what constitutes as ‘serious’ injuries,” Fumikage says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But why are you calling me?”
Midoriya clears his throat. “Well, um. Kacchan doesn’t need to be kept in a hospital, but he’s pretty out of it and we think that somebody should help him get home. And I’m still in the middle of my shift.”
“What about Kirishima?” Fumikage asks.
“He’s out of town for a family thing.” Midoriya sighs. “And Kacchan’s threatened to throw me off the station roof if I call his parents.”
“So I’m your next best option.” Fumikage stands up and goes to fetch a jacket. It’s a good thing he lives relatively close to the fire station. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Midoriya lets out a sigh with enough relief that it’s audible through the call. “Thanks, Tokoyami.”
It’s only after he’s hung up that it dawns on Fumikage that Kaminari is more familiar to both Bakugou and Midoriya by virtue of being from the same high school. He wonders why Midoriya hadn’t called Kaminari instead. Or even Jirou, whose home is only one block away from Bakugou’s.
Then again, Fumikage lives closer to the fire station, so maybe that’s why. Or maybe Midoriya called the others first but they were busy. Whatever the case, if Midoriya thinks Fumikage can be entrusted with Bakugou’s well-being, then he’s not going to let him down.
-
“Deku, that little shit,” Bakugou groans as soon as Fumikage steps into the infirmary. “I can’t believe he fucking called you.”
Fumikage raises an eyebrow, pausing midway between the door and the bed Bakugou is sitting on. “Well, if you’d rather have somebody else take you home…”
Bakugou grimaces and waves a hand, then winces, presumably from his sore ribs. “No, you’re fine.”
“Are you sure?” Fumikage asks, not entirely convinced. While he usually doesn’t question Bakugou’s decisions, he’s injured and possibly concussed. It can’t hurt to check one more time. “You seem quite unhappy to see me.”
And, well, okay. Fumikage might be a little miffed at Bakugou’s reaction. Nobody has to know that.
“It’s just,” Bakugou says, then cuts himself off. He shrugs with a grumble, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s embarrassing, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing embarrassing about getting injured in the line of duty.” Fumikage sighs and grabs Bakugou’s duffle bag for him. He’s dealt with an injured Keigo enough times to know that Bakugou is probably only still up and alert thanks to his adrenaline boost, and he’s bound to crash soon. He needs to be taken home as soon as possible. There’s no time to waste on coddling Bakugou’s ego. “Now let’s go.”
He doesn’t wait for Bakugou’s response and walks out of the infirmary, where Keigo is waiting in the hallway.
“I’m just going to help him home,” Fumikage says preemptively, before Keigo can express any disapproval or concern. “Don’t sulk about it.”
Keigo holds up both hands, looking oddly amused. “I didn’t say anything, kiddo.”
It seems entirely too much like Keigo is enjoying the situation, which is suspicious. Perhaps Fumikage had come off as needlessly defensive. Still, given Keigo’s track record regarding any interactions between Fumikage and Bakugou, he thinks it’s necessary to add, “And I hope you don’t say anything about it later.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Keigo shrugs and tilts his head towards the fire station’s front entrance. “See you at home.”
Fumikage nods, then glances over his shoulder to check that Bakugou is a few steps behind him. The earlier reluctance at facing Fumikage seems to be gone, though his expression does seem resigned. “We’ll get going now.”
They leave the station together, Bakugou silently trailing behind Fumikage until they come to a stop by the roadside.
Bakugou narrows his eyes at Fumikage and the phone in his hands. “What’re you doing?”
“I called a ride.” Fumikage shows him the app open on his phone, which says a cab is only two minutes away.
“The fuck? I can ride the goddamn bus.”
“I know you can.” Fumikage wonders what Bakugou would think if he knew how similar he sounds to Keigo right now. Injured firefighters are universally stubborn and easily offended by any insinuations that they need to be treated with care, it seems. “But the bus takes too long. There’s no direct route to your place from here anyway.”
Bakugou opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks aggrieved by the fact that he can’t find a good counterargument to Fumikage’s reasoning. “If I was just gonna get in a damn cab, what’s the point of you coming along?”
“I’m just a safety net.” Fumikage pats Bakugou’s duffle bag. It’s not too heavy, but it’s definitely not a light load, either. It’s not something somebody who recently dislocated a shoulder should be lifting. “You could use somebody to carry this, anyway,”
“What are you, a bellboy?” Bakugou looks ready to argue that he can carry his own bag, but the cab rolls up, and Fumikage quickly nips that argument in the bud by opening the car door and gesturing for him to get in. Fumikage doesn’t even bother to say a single word; he simply gives Bakugou a flat stare and points at the cab’s backseat.
It takes Bakugou a grand total of four seconds before he folds.
Grumbling under his breath, Bakugou climbs into the cab, and Fumikage follows suit. The cab starts driving as soon as Fumikage shuts the door, and then it’s only a twenty minute ride to Bakugou’s apartment.
Ten minutes into the cab ride, it becomes abundantly clear that Bakugou is flagging. His shoulders start slumping in the way they do when he’s tired, and he’s staring blankly out the window rather than actually paying attention to his surroundings. His blinking is slowing down, too. Fumikage wouldn’t be surprised if Bakugou started nodding off entirely.
Miraculously, perhaps through sheer willpower, Bakugou stays awake until they pull up to a stop in front of Bakugou’s apartment building. He looks exhausted, but he’s still alert enough to get out of the cab and follow Fumikage on steady feet.
They stop in the hallway outside Bakugou’s apartment door. Bakugou’s apartment has a keypad lock, so Fumikage is about to step to the side for Bakugou to enter his passcode when Bakugou says a series of numbers out loud.
Fumikage freezes. “I’m sorry?”
Bakugou rolls his eyes and repeats the eight digits. “Just open the damn door.”
It takes Fumikage a second to realize that Bakugou has shoved his right hand into his hoodie pocket and hasn’t moved it since Fumikage arrived it at the fire station. It must hurt to move the arm because of the dislocation. Trust Bakugou to give Fumikage his front door’s passcode without warning rather than admit that he’s in pain. “Right, of course.”
He enters the numbers into the keypad and the door unlocks with a series of beeps. Once Fumikage pulls the door open, Bakugou stalks inside, toeing his sneakers off haphazardly as he goes. Fumikage follows, making sure to place Bakugou’s sneakers neatly before he takes off his own.
He straightens up to the sight of Bakugou throwing back two pills and then chugging a bottle of water.
Hmm. Not just one, but two painkillers. Bakugou must be hurting more than he let on. “You are sure that you don’t need to go to a hospital, right?”
“Relax, bird brain.” Bakugou sets down the bottle and indicates one of the dining chairs, where Fumikage obligingly places the duffle bag. “I’m fine. Just need to sleep it off.”
“Do you need my assistance with anything?” Fumikage asks.
Bakugou snorts as he moves toward his bed. “What, you gonna do the dishes for me if I ask you to?“
“I could do that.” Fumikage glances at the kitchen sink. The plate and cutlery and mug suggest that Bakugou didn’t do the dishes after breakfast. It’d take Fumikage only a few minutes to scrub them clean. “It’s not particularly difficult.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Bakugou grumbles, climbing onto the mattress and settling himself gingerly on his back. He’s still in his hoodie and jeans, but he must be too worn out and in pain to bother with taking them off. “You really gonna take me seriously now of all times?”
“I always take you seriously,” Fumikage says, rolling his sleeves up as he moves to the sink.
He can hear Bakugou’s disbelieving scoff. “Right, sure you do.”
Fumikage wonders if he just imagined the hint of resignation in Bakugou’s tone just now, but he can’t can’t see Bakugou’s face from here to read any emotions, so he internally shrugs and gets to work. He surely must have imagined it.
Once he’s done with the dishes and left them in the drying rack, Fumikage approaches Bakugou’s bedside and isn’t too surprised to see Bakugou fast asleep under the covers. The adrenaline must’ve worn off entirely by now.
Fumikage leans over Bakugou’s sleeping form and observes him. With his eyes closed and his expression smoothed out from sleep, he looks hardly intimidating. Not that Fumikage ever found Bakugou intimidating in the first place, but the gruff front he puts up is gone in this moment, and it’s a rare sight that Fumikage can’t help but savor. He’s only actually stayed the whole night at Bakugou’s place a couple times; he usually left for home straight away after the sex. And even when he did sleep over, it was difficult to observe Bakugou asleep during the dead of the night, and impossible in the morning because Bakugou always woke before Fumikage did.
So Fumikage drinks in his fill of the sight. He’s tempted to lean in closer, to perhaps steal a kiss, or to maybe even lay down beside Bakugou and drift asleep.
Fumikage frowns and takes a step back. It’s not a good sign that he wants to initiate physical intimacy with someone who’s asleep and injured. Maybe Fumikage is pent up. It has been a while since he’s slept with Bakugou, so that might be the problem. But Bakugou doesn’t seem interested in sex lately, which means Fumikage’s usual outlet is unavailable.
Maybe Fumikage should find somebody else to let off some steam. He’s not entirely eager to jump into bed with anybody, but…
Pondering the idea, Fumikage quietly lets himself out of the apartment and leaves.
-
“Yo, Tokoyami!”
Fumikage pauses mid-step on his way to the campus library and turns to see Kirishima waving enthusiastically at him as he jogs closer.
“Listen, can you do me a solid?” Kirishima pulls up to a stop and swings his backpack forward to unzip it and rummage inside. “I borrowed this from Bakugou, like, a whole month ago and he’s been pissed about it for a while. I totally thought I’d lost it, but I found it yesterday so I can give it back now.”
“Okay…?” Fumikage blinks, unsure of where this is going.
“But like, if I give it to him, he’s gonna probably kick my ass for taking so long, and I kinda don’t wanna get my ass kicked.” Kirishima finally pulls out a notebook and offers it to Fumikage with a sheepish grin. “So can you pass it along to him? He won’t get mad if you’re the one who gives it back.”
A little bewildered, Fumikage takes the notebook. He has band practice in a few hours anyway, so returning the item to Bakugou wouldn’t be too difficult. But he knows for a fact that Kirishima is roommates with Kaminari. It’s odd that he’s choosing Fumikage to play messenger instead. “I’ll give it to him today.”
Kitishima beams. “Thanks, man! I gotta run now, but I’ll see you later! We can have lunch or something next time.”
“Lunch sounds good,” Fumikage replies as he slides the notebook into his own bag. “Hopefully Bakugou won’t be too annoyed when I give this back.”
“Nah, he’ll let it slide.” Kirishima pats Fumikage’s shoulder, then turns towards the natural sciences building. “See ya!”
Fumikage waves him off, then resumes his walk towards the library. It’s been nearly a full week since Bakugou was injured and Fumikage helped him home. He hasn’t really seen Bakugou since, mostly due to their clashing schedules, but they have been texting. Bakugou says he’s fully recovered, but Fumikage wants to confirm that himself.
That’s the only reason he’s looking forward to seeing Bakugou at band practice. That’s all.
-
“Shitty hair told you to give this to me?” Bakugou asks, raising an eyebrow and looking a little annoyed as he takes the notebook.
Fumikage shrugs. “Yes.”
He’s not sure what to expect from Bakugou. A tirade against Kirishima, perhaps. Or a snarky comment about Fumikage playing messenger pigeon.
But against all expectations, Bakugou simply sighs and drops the notebook on the table over his bag. “Whatever. Fine.”
That was an unexpectedly level-headed response. Fumikage doesn’t let the surprise show, and simply opts to change the subject. “How are your ribs?”
“I told you, they’re fine,” Bakugou grouses, and then Jirou claps her hands so that they can start practice.
-
A couple days later, Bakugou invites Fumikage out for dinner at a burger joint that recently opened downtown. Fumikage has learned in the past year that Bakugou tends to be a bit of a foodie who likes to try out all the new restaurants that have decent early reviews. Bakugou has made a habit of inviting Fumikage along on such excursions; Kirishima and other friends also occasionally accompany them, but generally it’s just Bakugou and Fumikage. These kinds of meals tend to end with Fumikage heading to Bakugou’s place afterwards, so Fumikage wonders if today is going to end the inadvertent dry spell that’s been going on for a couple months now.
“Not too bad,” Bakugou comments as he finishes off his burger. He eats fast; Fumikage is not a slow eater by any means, but he’s still only halfway through his own dinner. “Not a lot of places nail the medium rare beef patty, but this was on point. Fries are kinda mediocre, though.”
Fumikage swallows his mouthful of burger and says, “The medium well-done is good, too. But I agree, their fries are not up to par.”
“Probably because they slice ‘em too thick,” Bakugou says.
Bakugou half-turns in his seat to inspect the menu written across a wide chalkboard one more time, and Fumikage resumes eating his meal. It’s a very nice burger, especially for a relatively reasonable price. He has half a mind to tell Bakugou they should come back here again sometime.
Fumikage is nearly done eating when Bakugou taps the table twice. “I’m gonna hit up the restroom.”
“I think it’s around that corner.” Fumikage indicates the corner across the room, where he can see half of a toilet sign. Bakugou nods and gets up from his seat, then walks in that direction.
While Bakugou is gone, Fumikage finishes his burger and sighs in satisfaction. Visiting new restaurants with Bakugou tends to be an enjoyable exercise, not just because things usually progress into sex, but also because it’s generally pleasant to eat good food and be in Bakugou’s company. Bakugou tends to be fairly less grumpy on these trips; there’s less scowling and more neutral, calm reactions. Not to mention that there’s a higher probability of getting to see the corner of Bakugou’s mouth curl up in a crooked smile.
Bakugou hasn’t quite smiled or even smirked yet today, but he seems overall in a good mood, so Fumikage thinks there’s a high chance that the evening will lead to getting invited to Bakugou’s bed.
Fumikage tries not to dwell on the idea too much; it’s not like he’s desperate to sleep with Bakugou, and there’s no guarantee that it will happen anyway. Still, he feels rather warm under his skin, so he gets up from his seat and goes to the soda fountain to refill his cup.
Just as he’s filled his cup up once more, he senses somebody approaching him from his side, and he turns his head to see a boy with a bright grin aimed his way. He looks to be around Fumikage’s age, but he’s quite taller—to be fair, many people in Fumikage’s age group tend to be taller than him—and his brown hair curls at the ends in a way that softens his overall impression.
“Hi,” the guy says in a friendly tone. “I know this is really out of nowhere, but are you dating anybody right now?’
Fumikage blinks. “Um, sorry, what?”
The stranger scratches his cheek. “Oh, well, I was kinda wondering if I could have your number—”
“The fuck are you doing?”
Fumikage whips around to find Bakugou right behind him. The expression on his face is, for lack of a better way to describe it, murderous. “Bakugou?”
“Who the hell do you think you are,” Bakugou growls.
The stranger quickly puts both hands up in a gesture of surrender with an awkward laugh. “Ah, damn. Should’ve known this might happen.”
“Fuck off,” Bakugou snarls, and the stranger quickly mutters an apology and hurries away.
Fumikage watches the other guy rush off, then turns again towards Bakugou, who still looks faintly furious. He doesn’t scare Fumikage, though. “Bakugou, what was that?”
“He was way out of line,” Bakugou snaps, his gaze shifting to meet Fumikage’s.
“All he did was ask for my number,” Fumikage points out. It’s bizarre and also wildly hypocritical of Bakugou to find this so infuriating when he’s the one who’s so often approached by other people who want his number. “What is your problem?”
Bakugou twitches, the rage from his expression dying down fast at Fumikage’s bewildered words. For a moment, Bakugou just stares at Fumikage, then he looks away, grumbling under his breath. “Your stupid face is the problem, goddamn bird brain.”
Fumikage raises both eyebrows. Bakugou doesn’t often stoop to kindergarten antics in terms of insults, and he’s hardly ever aimed such a childish tantrum in Fumikage’s direction before, but apparently today is a special occasion. It’s quite exasperating, but also aggravating, too. Fumikage chews on his lower lip, repressing the urge to start an argument. Instead, he exhales through his teeth and says, “I should get going.”
For a fleeting moment, an unreadable emotion flickers across Bakugou’s face, but then it’s gone before Fumikage can decipher it. “Yeah, okay.”
Fumikage ends up not taking a single sip of the soda he’d refilled. They split the bill and exit the restaurant, then pause at the roadside. Bakugou’s apartment is close by enough for him to walk back. Fumikage, on the other hand, needs to take the bus to get home.
“I’ll see you later.” Fumikage doesn’t bother to wait for Bakugou’s answer, and he starts walking in the direction of the bus stop.
He doesn’t look back to check the look on Bakugou’s face, even though he very badly wants to.
-
“You seem to be in a bad mood,” Todoroki says the next day.
Todoroki isn’t specifically here at Fumikage’s home for a date with Keigo today; he’s mostly just here to decompress, so the three of them have been playing a rather grueling round of Catan where Fumikage can channel his frustration into the board game. “Perhaps it’s because you just blocked off my route for expansion.”
“You were in a bad mood even before we started playing,” Todoroki points out, which means Fumikage has been doing a very poor job at concealing his emotions, to the point where even Todoroki noticed.
Which means that Keigo probably knew about them from the beginning. Fumikage glances at his brother. “Is it that obvious?”
“Kinda, yeah.” Keigo tilts his head to the side. “I was gonna leave it alone until you were in the mood to talk about it, but I guess we can have this chat right now. What’s going on?”
Fumikage stares down at the board game on the coffee table. Half of him is tempted to not say anything at all, but the other half of him is tired of bottling up his annoyance. “Bakugou was acting irrationally last night.”
Keigo’s gaze sharpens. “What did he do?”
While Fumikage typically avoids giving his brother any more reason to dislike Bakugou, Fumikage doesn’t feel like granting Bakugou such grace this time. So he takes a deep breath and tells Keigo and Todoroki exactly what happened at the burger place the previous night.
When he’s done talking, it’s not Keigo who responds first, but Todoroki. “I told Bakugou to be helpful, not to be an idiot.”
Fumikage stares. “Pardon?”
With a cough, Keigo elbows Todoroki and then says, “Yeah, Bakugou shouldn’t have done that. It totally makes sense that you’re mad at him about it.”
“I just don’t understand what the problem was,” Fumikage says with a sigh.
Keigo and Todoroki share a long glance, which oddly feels like they’re having a silent conversation that Fumikage can’t hear. Like they know something he doesn’t. It makes Fumikage’s annoyance melt into confusion. Is there something obvious that he’s missing?
“I don’t think you need to think too much about it,” Todoroki finally says, breaking eye contact with Keigo to look at Fumikage again. “It’s Bakugou. He can be ridiculous sometimes.”
Keigo rolls his eyes. “If he wants to keep being your friend or whatever, he’ll fess up about it soon enough. Don’t waste your time on trying to figure him out.”
Fumikage frowns. He has a sneaking suspicion that the other two have figured Bakugou out, but if they’re not telling him outright, it means that this is either something he needs to realize for himself, or it’s genuinely something that is wholly Bakugou’s responsibility to communicate. If the latter is true, then there’s no point in Fumikage spending mental energy trying to understand Bakugou’s psyche.
Well, if Bakugou wants to maintain any kind of arrangement with Fumikage…if he wants to keep his friendship with Fumikage, he’ll explain himself eventually.
In the meantime, Fumikage will keep their interactions to a minimum.
-
Fumikage is in the library with Jirou, studying together for their respective upcoming exams when she clears her throat. “Tokoyami, is everything okay with Bakugou?”
That makes Fumikage lift his gaze from his textbook to her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“He’s been real tetchy for the past few days, and you seem kinda down, too.” Jirou furrows her brow in concern as she fiddles with her earphones. “Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“Not exactly.” Fumikage figures there’s no point in elaborating on what happened three days ago. “We can be civil. I promise it won’t affect the band.”
Jirou kicks his foot gently under the desk. “Jeez, don’t sound so serious about it. You guys aren’t breaking up, are you?”
Fumikage blinks. “Why would we break up? It’s not like we’re dating.”
“Wait, what?” Jirou drops her pencil and stares at him, looking faintly scandalized. “You two aren’t dating?!”
It’s not a great secret that Bakugou and Fumikage sleep together, but Fumikage had thought that it was fairly obvious that the arrangement wasn’t a romantic one. He doesn’t quite understand where Jirou got the wrong idea from. “No, of course not. We’re just…friends with benefits.”
Jirou’s jaw drops. It takes her a minute to click it shut again. “I thought you guys made it official ages ago. Like, whenever we go hang out with the others, they move seats so you can sit next to him and stuff.”
Fumikage opens his mouth to refute that, then pauses. He recalls the occasions when he’d come across Bakugou sitting amidst a group, and how somebody would always shift seats without a word and invite Fumikage to sit with them. Right beside Bakugou. It’s been happening for months, now that Fumikage thinks about it.
“Hold on.” Fumikage suddenly recalls the day Kaminari failed to join them on their visit to the music store. Kirishima had vacated his seat to let Fumikage sit there instead. And Kaminari had texted them that day, encouraging them to enjoy the trip without him. As if he were setting them up on a date. “Does everybody think I’m dating Bakugou?”
“I mean, I sure as hell did.” Jirou flushes a little, seemingly embarrassed that she’d been so mistaken. “But everybody acts like you are. Even Bakugou. Actually, especially Bakugou.”
Fumikage thinks back through the past few months. Midoriya calling Fumikage in to escort an injured Bakugou back to his apartment. Kirishima asking Fumikage to pass along Bakugou’s notebook. Bakugou telling a stranger who’d asked for Fumikage’s number to fuck off.
Shit. Jirou is right. Fumikage has been basically treated like Bakugou’s boyfriend for a long time now. And Bakugou has reinforced the misunderstanding all this time.
Fumikage stands up from his seat a little to hastily. “I think I…need to go home and figure things out.”
“Yeah, uh.” Jirou awkwardly pats his hand. “Good luck.”
Fumikage packs his belongings and then practically flees the library. Thankfully, he doesn’t run into anybody he knows on his way back home, and during his bus ride, he has nothing better to do than consider this problem in his head.
People think he’s dating Bakugou. What does Fumikage do now? Does he have to announce that he’s not dating Bakugou? Is this misconception actually harmful? It’s not like being mistaken for Bakugou’s boyfriend is detrimental in any kind of way. But as long as people think they’re dating, then Bakugou will presumably not be able to pursue a relationship with anybody else. And Fumikage can’t, either.
But it’s not like Fumikage wants to date anybody else anyway. He’s happy as he is. Sleeping with Bakugou, going out for meals with Bakugou, studying with Bakugou—
Oh, no. Fumikage apparently is dating Bakugou. And he likes it that way.
Fuck.
-
Fumikage spends a whole week avoiding Bakugou. It’s not that hard; they don’t share any classes and Bakugou isn’t sending any texts or the like anyway. All Fumikage really has to do is just avoid Bakugou’s usual haunts, like certain areas of the library, his favorite on-campus cafe, and the engineering department.
But as the avoidance continues, it becomes more obvious that Bakugou had become a significant fixture in Fumikage’s life. At least half of Fumikage’s social life is gone now that spending time with Bakugou isn’t an option.
Fumikage wonders what will happen once Bakugou realizes he doesn’t want to be dating him. If this is how quiet his life will be, once Bakugou calls everything off. If they won’t even be friends anymore.
He likes to think that they could still be friends; friends who still occasionally hang out and play in a band together.
But is Fumikage going to be content with just that?
He has a sinking feeling that the answer to that question is a no.
-
Fumikage’s avoidance of Bakugou ends the day the band has yet another gig at Midnight Blues. He’d been aware that he couldn’t avoid Bakugou forever anyway, but when the day arrives, Fumikage can’t help but feel the anxiety bubble up inside him. This will literally be the first time he speaks with Bakugou since the burger joint incident. He has no idea how Bakugou will react to any of the things Fumikage has planned to say to him.
So yes, maybe Fumikage is still not entirely prepared when Bakugou corners him in one of the back rooms of the building and says, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Fumikage can’t really deny that. “Well, yes.”
“Is it ‘cause I…” Bakugou trails off, then shakes his head. “No, that doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have done that, back at the burger place.”
It’s such an unexpected statement that Fumikage forgets all the words he meant to say. He’d thought Bakugou would confront him for the avoidance. Or perhaps not address it at all and pretend nothing was wrong. But here Bakugou was, dashing all of Fumikage’s expectations with a contrite expression on his face and a hesitant tone in his voice.
“I overstepped when that guy asked for your number,” Bakugou says, not quite meeting Fumikage’s eyes, but his words sound sincere. “It was none of my business and I shouldn’t have been an asshole about it. I’m sorry.”
“I wouldn’t have,” Fumikage blurts, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them, his internal dam fracturing and crumbling down from the shock of hearing Bakugou apologize. “I wouldn’t have given that guy my number anyway.”
Bakugou relaxes a little, the tension leaving his posture. “…Okay.”
Fumikage hesitates, but forces himself to continue. This is the speech he’d been practicing in his head for a while now. “But don’t do that again. People keep thinking we’re dating and you acting like that doesn’t help.”
There’s a pained look on Bakugou’s face. “People have been doing that, huh.”
“I thought you’d noticed.” Bakugou is smart, and it’s strange that he didn’t catch on earlier, but then again, he’s not the most socially adept person. It’s not like Fumikage was any better. “Anyway, if you want to stop people from mistaking us for dating—”
“You’re killing me here,” Bakugou interrupts with a groan. “Tokoyami, I fucking want to date you.”
Fumikage feels his mind screech to a halt. “What?”
The pained look intensifies. Bakugou rubs a hand over his face with a heavy exhale. “I’ve been trying to make it official for a fucking…wholeass year now.”
Fumikage opens his mouth. Closes it. Then he finally regains enough coherency to say, “Then why didn’t you just ask?”
“Because you didn’t ever seem interested even when I tried taking you out on dates or shit!” Bakugou’s ears are flushing red, which is unexpectedly cute. “And you never made the first move!”
It’s unfair of Bakugou to say that Fumikage never seemed interested in more when he’d never informed Fumikage that they were going on dates in the first place, but there’s no point in arguing over trivial matters. Bakugou’s second point, on the other hand, can be rectified quite easily.
Fumikage grabs the front of Bakugou’s hoodie and hauls him in, going up to his toes to meet him halfway for a kiss. It’s not particularly romantic or soft, but Fumikage thinks it should get the point across.
When they separate, Fumikage tells him, “I’m making the first move now.”
Bakugou doesn’t even hesitate; he pushes Fumikage up against the wall behind him and kisses him again, hard and insistent and with a hint of aggressive possessiveness that Fumikage never quite understood until today. In hindsight, Fumikage thinks as Bakugou tangles their fingers together, he should’ve just realized Bakugou simply wanted to hold his hand.
Bakugou’s voice is husky when he growls, “This better fucking mean we’re dating now.”
“Yes, we are,” Fumikage says, and pulls Bakugou in for another kiss.
-
The concert is a success, and Fumikage is nearly dizzy from the double high of officially having Bakugou as his boyfriend and the end of a very satisfying performance. He’s sitting beside Bakugou in the waiting room as he chats with the other band members when a whole crowd of their friends pile in.
At the forefront of the group, Midoriya and Kirishima pause at the sight of Fumikage and Bakugou holding hands, and then Kirishima whoops. “Oh my god, finally. Congrats, you guys!”
“Took you two long enough,” Sero says with a chuckle.
“Does this mean Kacchan can finally stop pining?” Midoriya says, half-laughing.
“Shut up, Deku,” Bakugou grouses, clearly embarrassed.
Mezou grins. “I had a feeling this would happen.”
“You don’t need my advice anymore, do you?” Todoroki asks. “I was getting worried that it wouldn’t work out.”
“Did everybody know about this except me?” Fumikage groans aloud.
“I told you.” Bakugou squeezes Fumikage’s hand and grumbles, “I was being obvious.”
Keigo clears his throat as he crosses his arms, and Fumikage feels a little nervous at the sharp gaze his brother slants towards Bakugou. He can tell Bakugou is nervous too, going by how he tenses up under Keigo’s unblinking stare.
After a moment, Keigo says, “Fuck up and you’re dead.”
“Noted,” Bakugou grumbles.
“Alright, in celebration of our power couple finally making it official,” Kaminari says as he jumps up from his seat, “let’s get wasted!”
Yaoyorozu sighs, but she’s smiling. “Not too wasted.”
“Just a moderate amount,” Tsuyu says agreeably, and everybody starts piling out of the room.
When Bakugou stands up and tugs on Fumikage’s hand, Fumikage follows him out to the bar, where everybody starts ordering drinks.
Even before the first sip of alcohol, Fumikage feels a little tipsy on happiness, and when Bakugou smiles at him, he thinks that he wouldn’t mind getting drunk on this feeling for the rest of his life.
-
When Fumikage wakes up early in the morning, it takes him a moment to realize that he’s in Bakugou’s apartment.
He jolts up into a sitting position, ready to grab his clothes and head out, but when the knee-jerk reaction dies down, he realizes he doesn’t need to rush back home or tiptoe out. He can stay here, because he’s Bakugou’s boyfriend now, and he has every right—and every blessing—to be in Bakugou’s bed for however long he likes.
Bakugou grumbles softly from where he’s lying down, and he drags Fumikage closer with an arm around Fumikage’s waist. “It’s my day off. I’m getting an extra hour of sleep, so get back here.``’
Fumikage looks down at Bakugou’s face, sleep-soft with only one eye squinting open to look blearily up at him. It’s a sight that Fumikage could get used to.
Without a word, Fumikage settles back down so that he’s laying next to Bakugou, who grunts in satisfaction and pulls him in closer. Fumikage can’t help but grin as he makes himself comfortable against Bakugou’s bare skin, and he falls back asleep like that: warm, smiling, and the happiest he’s ever been.