Chapter Text
Things get a bit blurry between getting his make-up done and walking on the runway, changing out of one set of clothes just to change into another one at the speed of light, getting his make-up and hair touched up again and all of that.
He doesn't really remember the actual walking in front of people and cameras part. usually he'll just empty his head completely and do his job – and doing it good, perfectly even, thank you very much – without giving too much thought about what's happening around him, mostly staring at an imaginary point at the far away wall, because that's just asking for disaster too happen. Like that very real fear he has of tripping over his own feet.
Today Shouto was feeling extra head empty. He had to because his thoughts kept going back to a certain blond, red eyes taking in his appearance, the way the other – Katsuki – had swallowed when he had seen Shouto's finished look, the way his fingers had felt on his skin while he had done hs make-up his voice, god his voice.
Now that his job is done and he is not required to be professional any longer his brain thoughts begin to wander again.
Shouto is currently getting out of the expensive designer clothes and back into the ones he had been wearing when he arrived this morning.
The clothes that had been provided today had had somehow been nice to wear and comfortable, something not many fashion designers manage to pull off. Shouto's had his share of uncomfortable fits to present to the public, making them look fancy and like it was something he'd choose to wear for a cozy night at home.
Nothing better than changing back into your baggy joggers and an oversized hoodie though.(?)
He doesn't bother removing his make-up, he never does. it makes him feel good, makes him feel pretty. But its different this time; his scar is still visible, Katsuki hadn't hidden it behind several layers of make-up to make it disappear and yet– it doesn't bother him. The make-up looks great, Katsuki had done an exceptional job. Shouto looks great but most importantly he still looks like himself, not like the perfect dolled up persona he wears most of the time.
It always feels weird to see himself with his scar hidden by make-up. wrong somehow. Because that's not him, never will be. Which is why Shouto doesn't look at the pictures taken of him at work, doesn't buy or even look at the magazines he's featured in.
The person looking back at himself right now in the mirror though? That's definitely him. And–
“Oh,“ he says, surprised at the realization that he isn't alone in the room.
Red eyes stare at his reflection in the mirror and Shouto turns around to look at Katsuki.
“Sorry, i was just about to leave,“ he mutters and tries to put on the beanie he had been wearing earlier that day. The task ends up being more difficult than he'd imagined, what with his hair being so fluffed up it looks like Shouto has three times the amount of hair he actually has and on top on that Shinsou had done a splendid job of fixing his curls in place so well, Shouto quietly wonders how many showers he will have to take to get back to his normal hair. He decides against wearing the beanie.
Katsuki's bag is still here and so are some of the items he had used on Shouto's face so he steps away from the mirror to make room for the other to gather his things.
Shouto shifts from one foot to the other as he watches Katsuki put several bottles of hairspray into his bag.
“Thank you,“ he says after some consideration, “For the make-up.“
The blond raises an eyebrow.
"'s my job," is all he says as he goes to pack his stuff. Shouto watches him, fascinated by how Katsuki seems to be organizing things inside the bag. Shouto himself is more of a just throw everything inside and hope for the best type of person.
“I know,“ Shouto replies, traces the edge of his scar gently, trying to recall how Katsuki's fingers felt on his skin, “You didn't—You could have—You were really nice, though,so—Thank you." He's stumbling over his own words and sighs audibly at his own inability to express what he means to say. How thankful he is for Katsuki not covering his scar, for making him feel pretty and comfortable while still looking like himself. For treating him like a human being and not just—a job.
Maybe he is overthinking this.
“Nice, huh.“
Katsuki turns around at that, looks at Shouto with eyes so intense Shouto thinks he might have forgotten how to breathe. Red eyes taking in everything, watching, seeing.
“You're really nice to look at, Halfie.“
“It's my job,“ he replies in a half-assed imitation of Katsuki's voice and the other grins in response. It suits him. He is nice to look at, too. Ranking pretty high with cats and sunsets.
“You know that's not what I mean.“
Shouto swallows. He knows what the other means, of course he does. Sees the way Katsuki looks at him. It feels different from how people look at him usually, when they think they stand a chance, when people want him for nothing but his appearance or the fact he is–well, semi-famous. Something like that.
It's weird, funny almost, because they don't really know each other either, had barely spoken to each other before the show. Shouto has been dozing off for most of the time Katsuki had done his make-up.
But something about it, about Katsuki, feels different.
Midoriya had once said that sometimes people just click, when he had met his partner. Shouto doesn't click with people. Although he thinks what he and Shinsou have might be something close to that.
Back then Shouto hadn't really gotten what Midoriya had meant. Maybe he gets it now.
Katsuki takes a few steps towards him then and Shouto is very aware of the fact that he is once again holding his breath, waiting for–something.
But Katsuki just reaches past him to gather his things and Shouto steps to the side, allows himself to breathe again because he feels that whatever moment they had - if it even had been something like that - was lost.
“Your sister is very nice too,“ he says, desperate to say something, to keep the conversation going because he doesn't want Katsuki to leave, wants to keep talking to him. He also can't keep a conversation going for the life of him, answering questions he's asked in interviews is more of his thing but he's trying, that should count for something, right? “She let me keep the first outfit. The lipstick, too,“ he adds but now that he thinks about it, wouldn't that be Katsuki's lipstick?
Katsuki actually drops a bottle of hairspray as he turns around towards Shouto.
“My sis—You mean my fucking mum?!“
Shouto just stares at him, Katsuki staring right back at him and Shouto can't tell which of them is more embarrassed right now, the two of them sporting an incredible shade of red on their faces.
That–well, that explains why he had provided his first name when he'd introduced himself. People had been calling for Bakugou-san all day, Katsuki probably hadn't wanted anything to do with that, he had been busy doing his own job after all, had wanted to avoid confusion or being associated with his parents.
It hadn't been a friendly gesture then, the first name. Oh.
Shouto doesn't get embarrassed easily, he really doesn't. He has said some really dumb things in interviews and only knows because someone had pointed it out to him. But he is really desperate to look good, to impress this stupidly beautiful man that makes his chest clench ridiculously and he feels like he might have missed by a mile.
Katsuki is the first to break the eye contact and Shouto watches as he pinches the bridge of his nose dramatically.
“Don't let the hag hear that, i'll never hear the end of it.“
“I —yeah. Okay,“ he says because he doesn't know what else to say. He wasn't exactly going to walk up to Katsuki's mum telling her he thought she was his sister because of how young she looks.
Katsuki seems to be satisfied enough with his answer though.
Shouto knows he can be awkward with people, doesn't have that much experience socializing but most of the time he can't even tell a situation is awkward. It's always others who have to point it out to him. Right now though, with the way the two of them are staring at each other even he can tell it must be awkward.
Shouto clears his throat.
“Did you watch the show?“
“No," Katsuki says, eyes not meeting his and the corner of Shouto's lips quirk up the tiniest bit in amusement.
“I almost tripped."
"No you didn't, you were fucking perfect out there," he stops in his tracks like he didn't mean to say that. Like he hopes Shouto for some reason, somehow, hasn't heard him when in fact he absorbs every syllable Katsuki breathes.
"So you did watch the show."
"Fuck you," he says but there's no heat behind it.
Shouto watches as Katsuki packs the last of his things and he feels once again desperate to say something. Anything. He doesn't want Katsuki to leave, wants to spend more time with him, wants to get to know him, wants to–everything. Him. He just wants.
“I wanted to thank you. For the make-up." For not covering my face is left unsaid but he can see in Katsuki's eyes that he got the message.
"I said it's my fucking job.“
And yeah, Shouto gets that. It's his job, sure. But he is almost certain Katsuki's job includes hiding a model's imperfections and Shouto's scar is, well. that. An imperfection.
His scar doesn't bother him, not anymore. It's part of him but seeing pictures of himself without it in magazines always reminds him that other people, strangers whose opinion shouldn't matter to him, feel it's necessary to hide it. Because it's ugly. because he would be so pretty if it wasn't for the scar.
"You didn't have to—Others always cover the—“ he starts, then shakes his head. “Thank you.“
He knows he is stalling. He thinks they both are, neither of them wanting their time together to come to an end. Shouto would ask for Katsuki's number, ask to see him again, but part of him is actually terrified he is wildly misinterpreting everything.
Katsuki chews on his bottom lip.
“You know you're beautiful, right? With and without make-up,“ he says and it sounds like the truth coming out of Katsuki's mouth.
It's—a lot, somehow. Shouto gets called handsome or good-looking in magazines. pretty sometimes. Never beautiful. Never by someone who really means it. never by someone whose words mean anything to Shouto.
It's stupid, that Katsuki's words mean so much to him. They barely know each other, only having met today. but it feels like they've known each other longer.
Shouto hopes Katsuki feels it too.
“That's mostly Photoshop," shouto says, averting his gaze and Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance.
“It's not," he says and suddenly his hand is on Shouto's chin, tilting his head towards himself so Shouto is forced to look at him. "You're fucking gorgeous. Stunning. Breathtaking."
Shouto swallows.
He's staring into Katsuki's eyes, and Katsuki stares right back. Searching.
He watches as Katsuki glances down at Shouto's lips, watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows and licks his lips.
There's no way he's misinterpreting anything.
He leans down the tiniest bit, gives Katsuki enough time to pull away if that's what he wants. He doesn't. Instead he pulls Shouto closer by the collar and smashes their lips together in a hungry kiss that leaves Shouto almost breathless in no time.
Katsuki wastes no time in getting their tongues involved and Shouto pretty much whimpers into the kiss when he feels Katsuki's hands at the back of his neck, gripping his hair hard.
His own hands are busy exploring Katsuki's muscular upper arms, needing to touch, to feel, and he shivers slightly at the thought that the other could probably easily pick Shouto up and manhandle him despite their height difference. Maybe even bend him in half and have his way with him right here.
Katsuki pulls on his hair harder then and Shouto can't help the moan that escapes him. Doesn't want to because Katsuki needs to know, needs to hear what he's doing to him.
He feels the way Katsuki's lips curl into a mean grin against his own lips before he pulls away and Shouto looks at Katsuki with wide eyes and Katsuki is looking right back at him, satisfied grin still evident on his face.
Katsuki's lips are tinted slightly red from the lipstick Shouto had forgotten he had still been wearing. It must have been an expensive brand considering Katsuki's mouth isn't smeared red all Buggy the Clown style. Not even close. Katsuki looks breathtaking with lipstick (and without). Drop dead gorgeous. Shouto thinks he should be the one getting paid to have his pictures taken and doing runway shows.
“So you like it a bit rough, Princess,“ Katsuki states and it's not a question, just an observation.
Shouto just nods dumbly at his words, barely processing them and Katsuki makes a humming noise, like he appreciates Shouto's honesty. He isn't quite sure if he generally likes it rough or if that's just with Katsuki – he really likes him, he's more than sure of that - has never given that any thought but now his mind keeps wandering. He wants to find out.
“Who'd have thought,“ Katsuki adds and Shouto's eyes widen when his brain really catches up to what just happened and what Katsuki had said.
“I'm sorry,“ he says and takes a step back, “That was inappropriate.“
“Was it?“
“This is a public space, some could have walked in,“ Shouto says although he's fairly certain he wouldn't have minded. Quite the opposite. “You don't even know me,“ he mutters.
His brain unhelpfully provides him with the knowledge that he would very much like to show Katsuki off, kiss him in front of people so they know they belong to each other, wants him to know Shouto inside and out, wants to know everything about Katsuki, wants the whole world to know they—well.
Oh he's gone for this man.
“Then why don't we change that,“ Katsuki suggests and places his hand on Shouto's waist, pulls him closer. “I'd like to get to know you, pretty boy. The real you.“
“Yeah. Yes, I'd like that,“ he says and places his own hand on top of Katsuki's, squeezing slightly.