Chapter Text
Back in high school, Shouto had his first taste of alcohol when Kaminari had snuck a large bottle of scotch into the dorms. It was right after they all got back from winter break during their second year, and to this day he still has no idea how Kaminari had gotten that past security at UA.
Ignoring that, Shouto—back then—actually had no interest in the “forbidden good” whatsoever, and he couldn’t really comprehend why the other boys were either excited or nervous, but all alike in how they’d wanted to try it so badly. The only reason he ended up doing so was because Bakugou (as always) had been able to turn an activity as dry and uninteresting as dirt to Shouto into yet another one of their numerous games of chicken.
This seems relevant right now, as Shouto continuously draws parallels between that experience and ten years later—wherein his and Bakugou’s unspoken drinking game has been going on for the past half hour.
Let’s go back to the beginning.
The atmosphere was relatively benign, with Shouto and Bakugou taking off their thick coats by the lobby of the resort and being given directions by the chippy receptionist to the event hall where the welcome party was happening. Overall, the building looked nothing like one would expect after hearing the words “cabin resort.” Shouto figured the actual specialty cabins must be elsewhere if the resort hadn’t been using false advertising because the whole place looked exactly like any big hotel in Tokyo: polished marble floors and even more polished walls that were of a material so repetitive in places such as this but which Shouto hadn’t bothered to learn the proper name of before (he simply called them “hotel surface material.”)
They reached the event hall after walking down a long hallway filled with paintings and flower vases and directions to the nearest elevator and restroom, and were greeted by a bustling scene once they’d entered.
“Katsuki! You’re here!” Exclaimed a woman’s voice, not ten seconds after Shouto and Bakugou had entered the hall.
“Oh, great,” Bakugou muttered under his breath as he looked around and subsequently spotted the source of the call.
A beautiful ash blonde-haired woman approached them, wearing a semi-formal lavender dress with embroidered patterns of poppies that gave the effect of the plants springing from the bottom of the dress. She looked absolutely nothing like Bakugou.
As she approached, her eyes flicked to Shouto—and then they widened comically. “No way! You brought a plus one?!”
Bakugou actually blushed, and Shouto had to suppress a chuckle after he decoded it to be a perfect non-verbal translation of “ [DATA LOST]
The woman elbowed Bakugou in the stomach. “Introduce me, you asshole,” she mouthed to him in a low voice. Shouto wondered what the point was since she was most likely fully aware of the fact that he had heard. He was also, frankly, a bit surprised that Bakugou didn’t go berserk right then and there for how blunt she had been.
Bakugou sighed. “Kirae,” he pointedly said, “this is Todoroki Shouto, my boyfriend.” Bakugou turned to him. “Shouto”—damn, it felt disconcerting to hear Bakugou say his given name—“this is Kirae, my cousin and the singular reason for this chaos.” The woman in question shot Bakugou an obvious fake smile, but only for a second before she proceeded to turn her attention to Shouto and grinned, more sincere, wide, and welcoming.
Shouto offered his hand for Kirae to shake. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
“The pleasure’s mine,” she answered cordially as she took the outstretched hand. “You and Katsuki are in the same business, right, Todoroki-kun?”
“Yes, we are,” Shouto replied. He was a bit puzzled at how quickly she was able to guess, given that Shouto has one time too many been mistaken to be of a different career, but he didn’t think anything of it. It must be either Kirae was just sharp or knew Bakugou well.
“Ah, I knew it,” Kirae said triumphantly, the statement more to herself than to the two of them. “I thought I recognized your face from somewhere.”
At Shouto’s even more puzzled expression, she supplied: “You appear on TV rescue missions and status updates after villain attacks and the like, don’t you?”
“Ah, yes,” he’d almost forgotten. He was always rushing to be done with those sorts of things, sometimes even dreading them, depending on context.
There was a dip in the conversation for a moment, Shouto not really certain how to make small talk with someone he wasn’t familiar with at all. Thankfully though, Kirae appeared to be a born hostess—unlike her cousin.
“So you two are not only in the same business, but are totally on par, too!” Kirae clapped her hands together. She turned once again to address Bakugou, this time not trying to be subtle at all. “I like your boyfriend, Katsuki. Let me keep him.”
“Aren’t you getting married tomorrow, Miss Congeniality?” Bakugou replied without missing a beat, all snark and just as unsubtle.
Kirae giggled and shook her head at him. “Oh, come on; you know I’m teasing! But at least now I’m sure you actually like him.” She playfully glanced back to Shouto as she said this.
Bakugou had the audacity to fluster.
Shouto wanted to punch himself. Right in the face. With a hand covered in a thick layer of freshly made ice.
(He still does.)
“You don’t even plan to tell me how long you’ve been dating! Please, do I have to pry everything out of you, Katsuki?”
“Yes—” Kirae scoffed— “and six months.” Bakugou’s voice went down an octave as he said this, and Shouto eyed a waiter passing drinks around, but ultimately suppressed the urge to go for one of those enticing glasses on his tray.
“Why have you never told me about him, Katsuki? You meanie.”
“I’m not fucking obliged to, that's why.”
“You’re no fun! I bet it’s Todoroki-kun here who’s always pushing you to get off your ass and loosen up every once in a while.”
“Well, you’d be wrong on one ‘cause he’s ten fucking times the workaholic that I am.”
“Oh, I see. Perfect match then!” She clapped her hands together again. “So?” Kirae demanded—all bright eyes and pre-wedding glow as she expectantly looked between Bakugou and him—to Bakugou’s clear chagrin. “When’s the wedding?”
“Oh my god.” Bakugou dragged a hand down his face.
Shouto didn’t think either of them even noticed he wasn’t actively participating anymore, but he didn’t really mind. It was much more enjoyable to be the audience, front row seat to Bakugou’s—
Ah, maybe a bit too unfiltered. Thank heavens that hadn’t gone straight to his mouth because it might’ve just spelled the end for him.
And, what the hell? He came to treat himself to witnessing Bakugou be embarrassed and perhaps just a bit vulnerable, not the other way around. And he had barely lasted [DATA LOST] .
Sooner rather than later, there were already calls for Kirae’s attention elsewhere—which made sense, but Shouto was nonetheless a bit unprepared since he never saw Bakugou talk as freely as he did with her.
“Well, I’m off now! Gotta do some more introductions. I’ll find you again later, Katsuki, okay? Bye-bye!” Bakugou shooed her away with a but Kirae only giggled again in amusement, bright and bubbly and completely foreign.
Well. Another way Shouto would describe her is of having a presence. He tried to silence the runaway thought that if she weren’t Bakugou’s cousin, Shouto would surely stand no chance at all if they already knew each other this well. Not that he did in the first place, discounting the fact that he was supposed to be explicitly acting out the opposite. And also discounting the reason they were even here in the first place was because of Kirae’s wedding.
God, Shouto hated being irrational.
“We are... very bad at this,” Shouto told Bakugou instead. He wouldn’t really count the exchange as a definite loss—because they’ve taken none of the “difficult” questions yet, but with how effortlessly Kirae had coaxed and steered the conversation, it still felt like one.
Bakugou grumbled. “Don’t count me into that. If there’s something I’m gonna be bad at, it sure as hell won’t be this kind of shit.”
“Are you saying you’ve done this before?” Shouto asked, teasing. A waiter carrying glasses of sparkly alcoholic drinks catches his eye again. Hmm. Tempting, but still a little too early.
“No,” Bakugou quickly disclaimed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to suck, do I?”
Shouto shrugged. “I guess the results will have to speak for themselves.”
There’s a short moment of silence from the both of them, covered up by the crackle of conversation ringing through the event hall.
“Where to next? Or are we just going to wait until the next person approaches us?”
Bakugou was about to reply—probably with another snarky remark—but apparently he didn’t need to.
“Katsuki! Just when the hell were you planning to show your grumpy ass around here?” Another voice, familiar this time, called out to Bakugou.
Bakugou Mitsuki, looking strangely very similar to when Shouto had last seen her all the way back during their graduation, stepped out from the crowd of unfamiliar faces.
She quickly took notice of Shouto.
“Oh, Todoroki Shouto-kun, huh?” She smirked at her son. “How’d you land this one?”
[DATA LOST]
For a moment, a perfect glimpse of the old Bakugou came back.
“And, for the record, he asked out.” Bakugou was just trying to save face this time—and of course Shouto wasn’t going to have that.
“Ah, but wasn’t it more of me ‘taking the hint?’”
Bakugou scowled and gave him a straight up death glare, and Shouto definitely did not note how his ears had turned red.
“Well, it’s nice to see that you two are happy now, at least,” Mitsuki said, crossing her arms and smiling at the two of them.
Shouto was thrown off by the ‘now,’ but stopped his brain from running in circles before it’d begun. Surely, she was only referring to the rivalry and eventual reluctant friendship Shouto and Bakugou had built up over the course of their high school years.
Now that he thought about it, it might be unlikely for two people who’d had such an established dynamic as Bakugou and himself used to have (and pretty much still had) to suddenly date. Huh. Maybe they hadn’t considered that.
Although, things were working so far—perhaps better than Shouto had expected. He wondered if Bakugou thought the same.
“And just were you planning to tell me you started dating for real, huh?” It was less of a question and more of a scolding. Shouto offhandedly recalled his and Bakugou’s earlier exchange in the car.
“Now,” Bakugou replied, nonchalance back in a flash.
And Shouto was so by the quick switch to the point where he was almost ready to give up his brain to mouth filter for a second—but then something suddenly bumped into him.
“Ouch!” Said a small voice, as small as the owner. A little brunette-haired boy in a baby blue button up and white slacks, who was most likely not older than five or six, stood—well, before him, clutching his forehead.
“Sorry,” Shouto said, a sort of automatic response, which he only realized a second later, but he can’t exactly tell a child off, could he?
“Oh no, mister! I bumped into you. I’m sorry,” The child apologized unexpectedly. Shouto was about to point out how polite he was, before the boy’s eyes widened and he gasped. He stands up and dusts himself off, looking around before yelling: “Onee-chan! Onee-chan!”
This eventually caused him to be found a slightly older girl who bore a close resemblance to the boy and who looks to be in her early teens. She slapped him on the back whilst catching her breath once she’d caught up to him.
“Where were you?” She asked, frustrated and still catching her breath.
“Mister,” the boy completely ignored her and faced Shouto instead. “My sister’s a member of your fanclub. She's always talking about you. Can you please give her your autograph already?” He said, extending the vowels in ‘please’ and putting his hands together in a pleading motion.
The boy’s sister was embarrassed out of her mind.
“Oh, I forgot I have a niece who takes you up as her religion,” Bakugou butted in out of nowhere, sporting a smirk. Mitsuki, meanwhile, appeared to be conversing with a middle aged woman whom she shared a drink with—the same sparkling cocktail Shouto’s been basically craving to get a taste of.
Said niece then proceeded to glare at Bakugou, crossing her arms. “That’s not true—
She’d almost collapsed once her little brother from her side to Bakugou’s in a flat one and a half seconds.
“Uncle Katsuki! You’re here!” The boy exclaimed. “Where’s my birthday present?” He jumps around and tries to look behind Bakugou hoping he’d brought it.
“Oh, shut it, you little shit. I have it and I’ll give it to you your birthday.”
“You swore! Mommy says every time someone swears, they have to put one thousand Yen in the swear jar so no one should swear!”
“Um,” the girl used their distraction to get Shouto’s attention. “Shouto-san—” the mention of his first name rubbed Shouto the wrong way at first before it registered that: oh The number of his days off in winter were probably getting to Shouto and were making his already sub-par interpersonal gauge more than lacking.
“M-my name is Akira, and I’d really love to become a hero like you when I get older!”
She was again almost knocked over by Akemi running past her as she stood still letting the words pass, the boy’s attention caught up in something new as he rushed across the room.
“What? He’s an inspiration to become a hero and I’m not? What a bad niece.” Bakugou clicked his tongue. Of course he made this into a competition.
“How were you even able to convince him to come here?” Akira asked, quite loudly and full of wonder bordering on disbelief. Her eyes darted as she continued, “I-It wasn’t like—”
“Oh, you wish,” Bakugou cut her off. “I invited him because we’re dating.” He took a step closer beside Shouto to drive the point home.
And it have made Shouto’s heart leap because that was the thing he should be prepared for Bakugou to say.
But what happened. It did. Just like Shouto had expected and specifically steeled himself for, [DATA LOST].
Akira gasped, full of malice. “No fair! Just because I’m not old enough!” Then, she became aware of Shouto again and instantly backtracked. “I-I mean…!” She tried to cover her face, and her very visible pink cheeks.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? He’s mine,” Bakugou said smugly.
Shouto wanted to say, his heart tight in his chest. But then what was he here for? If only the waiter passing out drinks walked by right about then, it could delay Shouto’s internal combustion.
“Katsuki, you’re not seriously competing with a kid, right?” Now, embarrassed Bakugou a bit, and wiped the smugness clean off his face. Served him right.
However, it was apparently the wrong thing to say as Akira was even embarrassed and turned an unhealthy looking shade of red.
“I knew it,” Akira mumbled with what sounded like a tone of resignation before she harrumphed at Bakugou and collected her wits enough to speak again, addressing his previous statement. “That doesn’t mean I can’t ask him for [DATA LOST], now can’t I?”
“Advice?” Shouto echoed.
“Oh Christ, here we go,” Bakugou rolled his eyes.
“Y-yes! What advice would you give, uh, young aspiring heroes, Shouto-san?”
He could handle this, at least.
“Well, first off all, you’d have to find out what you want your specialization to be.”
“Pardon?” She asked, a little dumbfounded.
“You need to know which path you want to take because if you don’t, you’ll lose motivation easily or burn out sooner than you’re prepared for. Committing to a specialization can also be a big factor when honing your quirk and deciding which school you’ll pick and which hero agency you’ll eventually work for.”
Akira was even more confused now, and Bakugou was clearly having fun watching Shouto utterly fail at being motivational.
Shouto tried to amend, “For example, you need to have a clear idea what your quirk will be useful for, and aim for a school that will help you nurture your abilities and give you adequate training. There are programs for heroes-in-training who want to specialize in fighting while there are also programs for those who want to specialize in relief and rescue operations. If you aren’t certain or you want to keep your options open, aim for schools like UA where the hero program will be attuned to most types. And—”
“Okay, stop. This is paining me,” Bakugou rubbed his temple as he cut Shouto off. He frowned at the other man, and then looked back at Akira, who looked so utterly [DATA LOST].
“I’m sorry, was that too fast?” Shouto asked her, bashful.
Bakugou sighed and his eyes darted around the room for the few seconds that Akira was composing herself in order to speak. “Ah, n-no. I’m just—”
“Oh please, this girl doesn’t really wanna be a hero,” Bakugou scoffed.
“I do!” Akira asserted, sounding sure of herself for the first time.
“Oh, I’ll believe you once you have a plan.”
She harrumphed again, before her expression softened as she spoke to Shouto, “U-um… Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Shouto-san.” Her face turned red again. “Con-congratulations on your relationship!” She said last before finding an excuse to run off, once again searching for her ever elusive little brother.
“Fair warning: I wouldn’t exclude the possibility of people flirting with you later once everyone’s a bit more drunk.”
Shouto smirked at him. “Aww, worry fueled by jealousy? How sweet, really makes this feel more real.”
He swore he wasn’t a hypocrite.
Bakugou punched him lightly on the shoulder. Shouto snorted.
“So, do you wanna go and do the rounds with me or go for a drink first? Don’t think I didn’t notice you eyeing the champagne.”
He blushed a little at that. “It’s probably expensive.”
Bakugou sent him an accusatory glance.
Shouto cracked. “But it’s probably also good.”
Bakugou let out a breathy chuckle. “I knew it. And yeah, it probably is. The husband-to-be is supposed to be some sort of expert—one of the reasons they get along.”
“Well, you know where to find me,” Shouto said, already heading in the direction of the food and cocktails. Bakugou shook his head with a smile and waved him off.
And things were until then. They were. And everything was [DATA LOST].
But, for some reason, once Bakugou had come back to check on Shouto after greeting some of his other relatives, his demeanor had completely changed.
The food was good, at least. There were lots of pastries, and Shouto mentally saluted Kirae and her husband-to-be’s good taste after discovering they’d included some Hokkaido-unique sweets he found to taste familiar. They also went well with the alcohol while some of the non-sweet snacks paired up nicely with the fruity drinks with no alcohol.
There was also some really good berry-flavored mochi (most likely for the children, but Shouto only felt slightly guilty).
Speaking of the mochi, children come for it.
Two identical little girls—who Shouto would say were about Akemi’s height—came running to the table, one in a yellow dress with little pink sandals while the other, wearing a blue blouse with a white skirt and white ankle boots, was dragged along by her twin. And their eyes were undeniably on the mochi. They both had long, silky black hair and black eyes.
Shouto suddenly felt awkward for sitting so close to the tray of mochi with one of those glasses of fruity cocktails when one of the girls approached the table (helplessly looking up at the tray which she couldn’t reach) and started to say, “Excuse me—”
Only to be cut off while her sister—the one in the dress—stopped several meters from the table and waved her hands in the direction of the mochi, making a few balls of rice cake levitate towards her unsteadily, her face a mask of concentration.
“Isako, no!” The other twin yelled once she noticed. This broke Isako’s concentration, sending the floating mochi tumbling to the floor.
“Oh no! Stupid Yasako! I almost had it!”
“No, you didn’t! I was only trying to stop you before they drop but you never listen!”
“They wouldn’t have dropped if you didn’t break my focus!”
[DATA LOST]
So here he was now, having taken a break from the atmosphere of the event hall by stepping out for a little while. Except, it be a break if it weren’t for the fact that Shouto had brought his (third? fourth?) glass of champagne with him.
He sips the drink slowly, savoring each mouthful and letting the bitter wash of alcohol flow against all the rough edges of his consciousness. He has his back against the fancy wall, looking hazily up at the countless lights on the ceiling and how they bounce and reflect against the walls and flooring, giving the scene a blurry, glowy soft gold quality. Occasionally, he’ll fixate his eyes on the chandelier located at where the forking hallways converge, but he doesn’t stare at it too long because the shine and glitter makes a dull ache settle at his forehead.
[DATA LOST]