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Izuku comes downstairs in search of tea, but finds only chaos.
Bakugou is screaming. That’s not much of a surprise, to be honest, but Kirishima is standing next to the couch with a ripped shirt and his quirk on. Ashido’s hiding behind him, next to a floating nightgown that probably has Hagakure in it. He glances up at the stairs. “Hey, Midoriya.”
“Hey,” says Izuku, watching Bakugou blast a hole in the carpet. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Run while you still can!” Ashido cries. “Quick, before it gets you!”
“They saw a roach,” Kirishima says apologetically. “The girls got scared and Bakugou went ballistic trying to kill it.”
That makes sense. Bakugou tends to fly into a rage when his surroundings aren’t spotless, although Mr Aizawa probably isn’t going to be too pleased when he finds out about all the burns on the wall. “Was Unbreakable really necessary?”
“They insisted,” Kirishima, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d go kill it myself, but they won’t let go of me.”
“Shield us,” Hagakure whines. “Don’t leave us alone to face that awful thing.”
Izuku supposes his tea can wait. Bakugou’s foaming at the mouth and trying to overturn the coffee table, unaware that the roach is behind him, on the wall next to the TV. It’s not even that big. Izuku picks up a slightly singed paper towel and catches it while the others are distracted, grimacing at the feel of its spindly legs scrabbling wildly to escape its tissue prison.
“Let me murder it,” Bakugou roars as the girls clutch onto Kirishima’s back. Izuku tuts and opens a window, tossing the balled-up insect far away where it won’t meet a fiery demise. “No! What the fuck, Deku, why’d you let it go?”
“It wasn’t hurting anyone,” Izuku sighs. Now he can have his tea. “Kouda would be disappointed in you, Kacchan.”
“Kouda doesn’t like bugs either,” Hagakure says, still clinging to Kirishima. “Thank you, Midoriya! You saved us!”
Izuku chuckles. “I used to kill bugs for my mom too. Once in a while they’d get into the apartment and she’d get spooked.”
“Impressive,” says Kirishima. “And sparing its life, man? You’re a saint.”
Bakugou’s stomps over to screech out the open window. Izuku barely suppresses a laugh. “Glad we all made it out in one piece. The life of a hero sure is perilous these days.”
He ends up making tea for everyone just because they all seem so tense. Particularly Bakugou. His jugular looks like it’s about to explode, so Izuku hands him some warm (uncaffeinated) infusion his mother had sent him. Their fingers brush when he hands over the mug. Bakugou doesn’t notice, but Izuku feels his ears go warm.
“We were gonna watch a movie before the roach showed up,” Kirishima calls from where he’s fiddling with the DVD player. He’s wearing Bakugou’s hoodie over his ruined shirt. “Come join us. You can have the seat of honour since you’re the hero of the day.”
“I haven’t finished my homework,” Izuku says but sits down anyway. The so-called honour seat is just the one corner of the couch that doesn’t have nacho dust and popcorn bits on it. Kirishima sits at the other end and Bakugou sits in the middle, and the girls take the loveseat after Ashido dims the lights.
It’s a movie about sharks. Or tornadoes, or maybe both. Izuku doesn’t know, because he spends a lot of time looking at Bakugou out of the corner of his eye. Light plays across his face at interesting angles, reflecting in his eyes and making them look multi-coloured. He snorts whenever someone dies. And he sits with his legs splayed. Izuku could press their knees together, if he so desired.
His gaze wanders to Bakugou’s free hand, the one that’s not nursing his mug. It’s lax on the couch cushions, barely visible from this angle, pinky almost brushing Kirishima’s.
Izuku looks up. Kirishima’s not watching the movie either. Kirishima is staring at his own hand, inching it nervously towards Bakugou’s.
Oh.
Kirishima is nice. Kirishima is very nice, and he’s the only person in class with whom Bakugou consistently gets along. And now he’s trying forlornly to touch Bakugou’s fingers but can’t work up the courage to actually make a move.
Izuku turns back to the movie. Okay. I can make that happen, he thinks, and never does end up doing his homework.
“Kacchan,” says Kaminari.
Bakugou stares at him. Really stares, without blinking, until Kaminari shrinks back in his seat. “What.”
“Ka—Bakugou,” Kaminari says, and then swallows. “Wow. I didn’t think your nickname would bother you.”
“It’s not my nickname.”
“But Midoriya calls you that all the time!”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Bakugou grunts. It’s his version of a sigh, Eijirou’s learnt, and he shifts around on Eijirou’s desk until he’s turned around to face Kaminari properly. Iida’s already told him three times not to sit on the table but Bakugou hasn’t budged. “It just is, chucklehead. He’s been calling me that since we were toddlers, I barely notice it. But it’s weird hearing it from a grown-ass dude.”
“Boo,” says Kaminari, turning around in his seat. Homeroom hasn’t started yet so the class is still abuzz with chatter. “I keep forgetting you guys grew up together, I can’t imagine you being friends. Bet Midoriya was super cute as a kid, though.”
“Bakugou was probably cute too,” says Eijirou without really thinking. Bakugou turns to him and wrinkles his nose. “What? Good-looking kids turn into good-looking adults, right? Shouldn’t that work the other way around too? Like, good-looking adults would have been good-looking kids?”
Kaminari’s grin widens. “Do you think Bakugou’s good-looking?”
Eijirou tries very, very hard to look casual. “Sure. Don’t you?”
“Until he opens his mouth, yeah.”
Bakugou karate-chops Kaminari’s head. “Deku’s face hasn’t changed much. Still had the freckles and stupid doe eyes, he just used to be smaller. And chubbier. Used to cry all the time too for no good reason.”
Eijirou tries to imagine a tiny Bakugou and even tinier Midoriya, hollering and looking for frogs and probably frustrating their mothers. “Got any photos?”
“I’m not giving you my fucking baby photos,” Bakugou snorts. Eijirou’s surprised how disappointed he is at that. “Deku might have some, though, he likes to hold on to stuff. I gave him a leaf once when we were four and he actually kept it. Dried it out in a book and everything like a sentimental little dumbass.”
Kaminari coos. “That’s adorable. He must have really liked you.”
Bakugou steps on Kaminari’s foot and Eijirou’s stomach flips. Subtly he glances to the other side of the classroom where Midoriya’s sitting next to the middle window. He’s got a book open on his desk but he’s not reading it. Instead he’s got his chin in his hand, face turned to the right, gaze following Bakugou’s lazy movements.
Eijirou studies the soft expression and dreamy half-smile and thinks, ah.
“Maybe he still does,” he says. The other two don’t hear him.
Eijirou’s the first to admit he’s not the sharpest bulb in the box, but he understands how to read people. Knows what to look for when Midoriya talks to Bakugou, because now the idea’s in his head it doesn’t quite want to leave.
What he learns is that Midoriya watches. A lot. He’s always been observant but he’s especially interested in Bakugou, even more than in Iida or Uraraka. Even more than All Might. Eijirou doesn’t blame him, because Bakugou’s hard to ignore, but it seems to him there’s something more than a childhood bond involved.
“Bakugou’s handsome, don't you think?” he says at lunch, making Midoriya choke on his milkshake.
Oops. He lives, but just barely, although Eijirou thinks he might have some ice cream in his lungs. “What –augh—what brought that on?”
“Sorry,” Eijirou says sincerely. There are people around but nobody pays them attention, too busy talking to their own friends and getting through their udon. “I mean, I just. We were talking earlier about what you guys looked like as kids. I thought Bakugou must have been cute since he’s handsome now. Not, like, in a gay way. Just a regular way.”
“Uhm,” says Midoriya, which is fair. “I guess he was a cute kid, but kind of a handful. He ran around and got in trouble a lot.”
“Not surprising,” Eijirou says. “You guys were really close, yeah?”
“I guess we were. He used to be my best friend.”
“Did you ever, like, date?”
Midoriya’s ears go pink. Bingo. “No! Oh my god, no, we were only ever friends.”
“Oh, okay,” Eijirou scratches the back of his neck. Midoriya’s wringing his hands, which is honestly kind of cute. “I was just curious, sorry. I remember when I was a kid there was this girl I hung out with a lot ‘cause our moms were friends. She ended up being my first crush. Probably just from proximity, though.”
“Well, Kacchan and I have never dated and never will,” Midoriya says all in one go. “He’s single. In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” Eijirou says equally quickly. “I mean, I don’t care.”
“Me neither.”
“Great.” Red-faced, Eijirou casts around for someone he knows. “I, uh, Kaminari’s calling. Gotta go.”
“Okay,” Izuku says, clutching his milkshake for dear life.
Eijirou high-tails it out of there. Kaminari hadn’t actually even noticed him, but he takes one look at Eijirou’s face, puts down his chopsticks and sighs. “Alright, what is it?”
“Midoriya likes Bakugou,” Eijirou says with conviction. “And I’m gonna get them together.”
“Uraraka!” Izuku bursts through the door the moment he’s done with his homework. “Kirishima likes Kacchan and I have to get them together!”
Sighing, Uraraka lowers her arm. “Deku-kun, you know it’s not a good idea to burst into a girl’s room without knocking, right?”
Izuku clears his throat. She’s in bed and fully dressed, thankfully, but she’d been just about to throw her slipper at him. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just don’t startle me like that, I was in the middle of painting my nails and I almost ruined them. ” She stretches her foot and puts the brush back into the bottle. Her toenails are blue. “Now what’s this about Kirishima?”
“He likes Kacchan so I want them to date.”
“Hold on,” Uraraka says. “I thought you liked Bakugou.”
Izuku looks away. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Irrelevant!” Planting himself on her desk chair, Izuku scoots closer and tries to look serious. “They’d be really good for each other, Uraraka, they get along so well. Kacchan even saved Kirishima’s number, he barely ever does that.”
She frowns. “Is that why he always asks who’s this when I text him? Also how did you even know that?”
“I sit behind him, I can see his phone sometimes when he uses it between lessons,” Izuku says flippantly. “But you have to admit they have great chemistry, right? And Kirishima basically asked me today if Kacchan was single, so he must be interested.”
“I suppose. Can I paint your toenails?”
“Okay. Do you have yellow?”
“No, but I have pink.”
“That’ll do.”
Uraraka lets him peruse her tray of brightly-coloured bottles. He picks a peachy-pink one, and the acrid smell returns when she opens it. “Why are you letting Kirishima have Bakugou when you like him yourself?”
“Kacchan hates me, remember?” Izuku says. “And I don’t like him that way.”
“Sure,” Uraraka hums. “Are you sure this is going to make you happy, though, Deku-kun? I know you’re chronically selfless,” she says, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I just don’t want you to be sad.”
Izuku falters. “What I want doesn’t matter,” he says slowly. “I’ll be okay, Uraraka. But I need your help coming up with a strategy.”
She sighs. “Okay. But only if I get to add glitter after this.”
“Let me get this straight,” says Kaminari in between laboured breaths. “You like Bakugou but you want him to start dating Midoriya.”
Eijirou watches the barbell go up and down. His hands are out and hardened, ready to catch it in case Kaminari loses his grip. They’d agreed to continue this conversation after school, because Ashido had been within earshot at lunch and she’s the biggest gossip they know. Luckily the gym’s generally empty at this time of day. “Basically, yeah.”
“Okay,” says Kaminari, finishing his last set. “Why?”
Eijirou shrugs. Kaminari sits up and takes a gulp of water. His biceps are starting to look really good lately. “Look, they’re childhood besties. They’re basically obsessed with each other and I’m just a third wheel. I don’t stand a chance.”
“So you’re going to actively set them up,” Kaminari says, getting up so they can switch places. Eijirou adds more weights to the bar. “How d’you know they’re not already together?”
“Asked Midoriya today. He says Bakugou’s single.”
“How d’you even know he even likes him? Given Bakugou’s pretty consistently mean to him, I mean.”
“He got all flustered when I suggested it,” Eijirou grunts. Maybe he should have warmed up a little more before starting. “And he’s always watching Bakugou. I just think they’re kind of meant for each other.”
“Sappy, but okay,” Kaminari says. “So what are you gonna do?”
“That’s the question. I’ve never tried to matchmake anyone before.”
“Ashido might know how.”
“She’d tell everyone.”
“True.” Kaminari takes another swig of water and thinks. “Midoriya’s surprisingly ballsy sometimes. I bet you can get him to confess if you play your cards right.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, but I think he has to know there’s a chance first. So he knows it’s a risk worth taking.” Humming, Kaminari parks himself on the next bench even though he’s supposed to be spotting. “But Bakugou’s not exactly affectionate. God, I can’t believe two whole people like him.”
Eijirou huffs a laugh. “I dunno, I like them feisty. Plus he’s really attractive,” he says, ignoring Kaminari’s theatrical retching. “But I can do that. There are so many little hints that Bakugou cares about Midoriya. Maybe I just have to point them out.”
“Be subtle,” Kaminari warns. “Midoriya’s a smart guy, he’ll catch on if you’re laying it on too thick.”
“Gotcha,” Eijirou says. “They’re gonna be the happiest damn couple the hero world ever saw.”
“I noticed Kacchan picked you to be his lab partner,” Izuku says.
“He spent the whole time saying he wanted to beat your quiz score,” Eijirou replies.
“Bakugou tells me that you guys used to go fishing together in summer,” Eijirou tries.
“It’s nice that he’s opening up to you about his childhood. He’s usually so closed-off,” Izuku smiles back.
“You’re smart and really cute. I’m kind of surprised you’re single,” Kirishima says.
“I could say the same.” Izuku’s doesn’t even have to lie about that. Kirishima’s cotton t-shirt is unusually tight, clinging to his torso with unabashed gusto. “You have anyone you like?”
“Nope,” Kirishima says, popping the ‘p’. Izuku knows that’s not true. Doesn’t say it outright because he has some tact, but he only just manages not to smile.
Kirishima’s taken to hanging around him a lot. He asks a lot of questions about Bakugou, which makes sense. Izuku knows him intimately, after all, so he’s the best source of intel around. He gives the information freely, and gleefully notes every longing glance Kirishima shoots Bakugou’s way. They end up chatting a lot, just because they have so much (Bakugou) in common, and Izuku thinks that maybe seeing the two of them together won’t make him so sad after all.
They go to McDonald’s on Sunday. It’s crowded and the air conditioning is on full blast to combat the approaching summer heat. Kirishima had suggested it because he wants to try the new burger, and Izuku gets a happy meal and hopes he’ll get the Kamui Woods figurine he’d been missing.
“What I’m saying is,” Kirishima says through a mouthful of fries, “no teenager doesn’t have acne. Everyone gets zits sometimes, at least until you grow out of it.”
Izuku fights to swallow his soda without laughing. “Kacchan’s not secretly a twenty-year-old. I think I would have noticed.”
“But his face is flawless!”
“I keep telling you that’s the glycerine, his mother has great skin too.”
“That’s nuts. It’s bananas,” Kirishima says. Izuku feeds him a nugget. “Like, bad enough his quirk’s powerful and moisturising. He has to smell good too? Bullshit.”
Izuku knows what he means. The burnt sugar smell is addictive, especially mixed with the black coffee Bakugou likes to drink. “Wish my quirk made my skin look as good.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Scarring. And hyperpigmentation,” Izuku says and points at the bridge of his nose. “Kids used to make fun of me in elementary school. Called me a walking game of connect-the-dots. Pretty mean, but honestly kind of funny.”
“What? Dude,” Kirishima says, grabbing his face. His fingers are a little greasy from the food but Izuku doesn’t truthfully mind. “Freckles are cute as shit, bro. They make you look all sun-kissed and cherubic. I didn’t notice it as much until it started getting hot out, but you have the face of a summer angel.”
Izuku’s ears go very, very warm. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Nah, man,” Kirishima says and lets go so he can eat his burger. “The scars are manly and the freckles are adorable. And with those eyes? ‘S a good combo.”
He ends up thinking about that a lot, long after they get back to campus. Izuku sits at his desk and tries to remember if anyone besides his mother has called him an angel, and if it’s ever made him feel as shy and pleased as he does now.
He comes up empty, of course. Kirishima’s always been forthright with his praises but maybe Izuku’s just never noticed how ready he is to help someone feel good about themselves, or how open and encouraging he is with no guile or insincerity. He’s nice. Nice in the way Kacchan’s never been. Nice in a way nobody’s ever been, maybe, and Izuku goes to look in the mirror and trace his freckles with his fingertips.
Maybe he does look alright. Maybe he has some good features, even if his face is plain. His eyes are a nice colour and his jaw soft and boyish but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
“Kirishima’s great.” Turning red, Izuku covers his face and sinks onto his haunches, smiling like a twelve-year-old to himself on his bathroom floor.
“Please teach me how math works,” Eijirou begs the moment he finds Midoriya alone.
Midoriya smiles at him. “Sure. Doesn’t Kacchan normally tutor you?”
“Yeah, but he has some special training or something so he’s busy. You’re super smart, please help me not fail.”
“Okay,” Midoriya says and pats the spot next to him on the couch. There are a few other people milling about the common room but nobody bothers them as Midoriya patiently walks Eijirou through basic calculus. It takes almost an hour before he gets a question right, but the relief that comes with it makes him want to melt off the couch cushions and lie down on the floor.
“You,” he says sincerely, “are an actual hero.”
Midoriya laughs. “It’s formulaic, so it’s not too hard once you get the hang of it. Math’s just like anything else, I guess. You kind of figure out the pattern and then it starts to make sense.”
“I dunno how you do it. You train like crazy and you’re smart and you’re good at, like, everything.”
“I’m really not. You should watch me try to dance.”
“At least you’re not a dumbass,” Eijirou says. He means it as a joke, but Midoriya tilts his head and pats him gently on the forearm.
“You’re not dumb, Kirishima. Maybe studies aren’t your strong point but the way you think is straightforward and your judgement is good. And reading people comes naturally to you. Some people find social situations hard but you don’t.”
Eijirou blinks. Midoriya looks completely serious even though his tone is light. “You used to get bullied a lot, huh?”
Midoriya’s smile goes crooked. “I did. Back when I didn’t have a quirk.”
And here he is anyway. Successor to All Might and dauntless in his ambition, learning and growing and fearing nothing at all. “You’re tough.”
“Gosh, there are probably lots of people tougher than I am.”
“But not like you,” Eijirou insists, not even stopping to wonder if he’s overstepping his bounds. “Like, you took so much shit and you kept going and not only are you keeping up but you’re one of the best in our year. And you’re still soft and nice and you want to help people. You keep actively choosing to be kind even though you have every reason not to. That’s pretty badass, y’know?”
“Oh,” Midoriya says, wide-eyed. Doe-eyed, Bakugou had said. “I, uhm. Thank you. Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
“I don’t see why not,” Eijirou says truthfully. “It’s true. You’re honestly really cool.”
Midoriya looks down at his hands. They’re scarred but strong, and he toys with the hem of his t-shirt. Eijirou gets the inexplicable urge to link their fingers. “Thank you, Kirishima. Let’s, uhm. Let’s get back to work.”
“I’m fucked,” says Eijirou.
Kaminari doesn’t look up from his manga. “In a good way? Also knock next time. You might see something you don’t want to.”
Eijirou shuts the door behind him and goes to sit on Kaminari’s bed. “I like Midoriya.”
“I thought you liked Bakugou.”
“That’s the thing,” Eijirou says emphatically. “I like them both. I wanna date Bakugou but every time Midoriya opens his mouth I wanna cuddle the heck out of him and smooch his freckly little face. What’s happening to me?”
“Your taste in men is improving, that’s what’s happening,” Kaminari says. “Ask him out.”
“But he likes Bakugou. I like Bakugou.”
“Ask them both out.”
Eijirou considers this. “Huh. That might work.”
Kaminari looks up. “I wasn’t actually being serious.”
“No, but that makes sense,” Eijirou says, the possibilities dawning on him. “Two boyfriends is even better than one boyfriend. And if Bakugou says no I can date Midoriya, and if Midoriya says no then he can date Bakugou and they’ll be happy.”
“But you’ll be sad.”
“A little,” Eijirou admits. “But I’ll be happy because they’ll be happy and I like them both.”
Kaminari sighs, and then pats him on the head like a dog. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will,” Eijirou says and bounces off the bed. “I’ll tell you how it goes, I gotta go write my feelings down so I don’t mess it up. I’m gonna be so fuckin’ romantic.”
Izuku’s in the middle of talking to his All Might plush toy when someone knocks enthusiastically on his door.
He hides All Might behind his back and lets the visitor in. It’s Kirishima, looking flushed and breathing hard as if he’d run all the way here from the third floor. “Midoriya, I like you.”
Izuku parses this. “What?”
“I—can I come in?” Kirishima says and then steps inside without waiting for an answer. “I’ve been thinking a lot which isn’t really my strong suit but you’re really cute and cool and I think I definitely have a crush on you. What’s behind your back?”
“Nothing,” Izuku says, putting aside the toy that he certainly wasn’t telling his darkest, most embarrassing secrets to. “Hold on, what? You like me? I thought you liked Kacchan.”
“What?” Eijirou says. Izuku could swear his face is starting to blend in with his hair. “I, that’s, how did you know?”
“I could just tell!” Izuku says, flustered. “I’ve been trying to set you two up for weeks!”
Eijirou’s jaw slackens. “No. I’ve been trying to set him up with you.”
“Oh my god, why?”
“You like him! You stare at him all the time and you kept that leaf he gave you when you were four!”
“How did you know about the leaf?” Izuku cries and covers his face with his hands. “You mean you knew the whole time? You liked him but you still tried to –oh my god, is this really happening?”
“Midoriya,” Kirishima says, taking his hands and pulling them gently away from his face. “I like you and I like Bakugou. I like you both. A lot. For different reasons and it’s fine if you don’t like me back but I wanted to tell you. I wanted to get it off my chest.”
Izuku’ heart soars. He can’t look Kirishima in the eye because he might actually pass out. “Okay. I, uhm, I like you too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Izuku squeaks, letting Kirishima wrap him in a bone-crushing hug. “You’re so nice and you said you liked my freckles and you’re handsome.”
“Can we date?”
“Okay!”
Kirishima releases him. “What about Bakugou?”
Izuku considers this. “If we both like him, and we both like each other…maybe that means we should try to get him to date us both.”
“Really? Do you think he’ll say yes?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku says giddily. “But we’ll figure it out somehow.”
“Start with little things. Springing anything on Kacchan is a sure-fire way to get your face melted,” Izuku says. “The key to getting him on board is to introduce the idea to him slowly.”
Eijirou listens. Leaves spiced seaweed snacks on Bakugou’s desk one day, and acts casual about sharing his coke the next. He tries hard to be friendly and open and funny and Bakugou takes it in stride. Sometimes he snorts at Eijirou’s jokes and it feels like victory.
“I got Doom,” Eijirou says after school, slinging his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. He allows it, which makes Eijirou feel kind of fuzzy. Their gym routines have synced up so today’s a day off for them both. “Wanna come play?”
Bakugou shrugs. He means yes, probably, because he lets Eijirou steer him to his bedroom instead of Bakugou’s, and Eijirou bustles about setting up his laptop while Bakugou lounges on the bed. Bakugou’s in his room. He’s in his room and he’s making fun of the décor and he doesn’t seem to feel out of place at all, because he’s going through Eijirou’s bookshelf with rude curiosity and it’s honestly kind of great. He can’t really help but grin when he hands Bakugou the controller, and the game starts up with the usual logos and epilepsy warning.
Bakugou frowns. “You’re not playing?”
“It’s single player,” Eijirou says and hugs a pillow. “I’m happy to watch you, though.”
Bakugou clicks his tongue. He stands without saying anything and leaves the room, and Eijirou stares at the door forlornly until he comes back with another controller. “Here, dummy, plug this in.”
“You wanna play together?” Eijirou says, thrilled.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wanted to play alone,” Bakugou says and shoves the extra controller in Eijirou’s face. He might actually cry with delight. “Now shut up and pick something with co-op.”
“Okay,” Eijirou says and loads a platformer.
The bed dips next to him and Bakugou sits on the mattress with his legs crossed. They die three times in a row and Bakugou yells at him, but Eijirou doesn’t even care. Bakugou’s still here, anyway. That basically means Eijirou’s already won.
Halfway through he dares to rest his head on Bakugou’s shoulder. He stiffens for the briefest moment, but lets Eijirou stay even after he makes them lose again.
Izuku’s approach, however, is kind of the opposite.
He stops watching from the sidelines and starts engaging Bakugou head on. He argues and flirts and sasses back when Bakugou’s feeling catty. Sometimes it escalates but sometimes Bakugou’s almost impressed, looking Izuku up and down like he’s appraising him on criteria no one else can see.
“I thought you didn’t like Pocky,” he says on the way back from lunch one day. It’s rare to see Bakugou snacking right after a meal. Even rarer to see him voluntarily eat something sugary, although Izuku suspects this might be one of Eijirou’s gifts. “Can I have one?”
“’S dark chocolate.” Lazily, Bakugou turns to him and holds up the box. Pocky for Men, because of course the unnecessarily macho one would be the only one Bakugou eats. “Also, no, you cannot.”
“Please? It’s rude not to share.”
“Have I ever been polite to you?” Bakugou says, leaning away when Izuku makes grabby hands. “Go get your own.”
Izuku whines. “But chocolate.”
“Mine,” Bakugou says, dangling the little cardboard box just out of Izuku’s reach. It’s a cruel reminder of his vertical handicap; Izuku gets on tip toes to snatch at it, but the Pocky stays elusively above Bakugou’s head. “Midgets don’t get snacks.”
“I’m compact,” Izuku huffs. “You’ll be sorry when I hit my growth spurt, Kacchan.”
Bakugou grins and puts a stick of Pocky in his mouth. Izuku glances at it, then at the box that taunts him from above.
Well, it’s right there. He tugs it out of Bakugou’s mouth and puts it into his own. It’s bittersweet. “Not bad.”
Bakugou stares at him, lips parted slightly in surprise. “Did you just— what the fuck?”
Izuku maintains eye contact. The Pocky goes crunch between his teeth. Bakugou’s eyes follow its demise. He blushes peculiarly, across his nose almost like a sunburn, and Izuku gives him the brightest of smiles.
“Thanks, Kacchan,” he says and heads back to class, and thinks Bakugou’s indignant sputtering is absolutely worth the box he throws at Izuku’s head.
So this becomes the new normal. Spending time with each other and with Bakugou, sometimes separate and sometimes all together. They fit. He slots between them easily like a tetris piece, or like the cherry on top of a proverbial sundae. Casually and quietly they join each other’s routines until being together becomes just another fact of life.
It goes well. Almost unbelievably so, and one day Eijirou very, very gingerly, links his pinky with Bakugou’s.
Bakugou pulls out one earphone. They’re on the way back from class, and Bakugou glances from their hands to Eijirou’s nervous face. “Can I help you?”
“No,” says Eijirou, playing dumb. He’s good at that, unfortunately.
Bakugou rolls his eyes. His hair looks very yellow in the late afternoon sun. “What, are you scared of getting lost?”
“Maybe,” Eijirou says. The quad’s mostly empty because everyone else has already left. Izuku had said he wanted to go back to the dorms together today, so Eijirou stalls in front of the academic building until a pair of red Air Jordans comes thumping out to meet them. “Hey, Izuku.”
A fluffy green head pops into his field of vision. “Hello, Eijirou. Hello, Kacchan.”
Bakugou’s eyebrow goes up. He’s noticed the blatant use of first names but doesn’t comment on it, instead narrowing his eyes at the way Izuku grins at him. “What’s that dumb look for?”
“No reason,” Izuku says. He eyes Eijirou and Bakugou’s linked fingers, and then reaches out almost as an afterthought. “Can I hold your hand?”
“What the fuck? No.”
“You’re holding Eijirou’s,” Izuku points out calmly. “And you have two hands.”
“That doesn’t—why are you holding my hand, you weirdo?” Bakugou says. He tries to pull away but Eijirou refuses to let go of his finger. “Do you want me to arm wrestle you or something? What is this?”
Izuku clasps Bakugou’s other hand while he’s distracted. Bakugou freezes, and Eijirou almost laughs out loud at how offended he looks. “We just want to hold your hands, Bakugou. But we can wrestle later if you want?”
Bakugou’s other earphone falls out of his ear. “I don’t want to wrestle. I want my hands back.”
“Don’t be like that,” Izuku says placidly. A leaf flutters past them in the breeze, and he bends over to pick it up off the ground. “Oh, this one looks like you. It’s spiky and yellow, see?”
“Do I look like a fucking plant to you?” Bakugou says. Both his hands are being held captive so he can’t stop Izuku from putting the leaf into the front pocket of his blazer. “What the hell? I don’t need a dead leaf!”
“You gave me one when we were four,” Izuku tells him. Eijirou admires his freckles. “You gave me a leaf and told me I was your favourite person. It was a dumb gift but I held onto it. I still have it, actually.”
Bakugou’s face scrunches up hilariously. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Kacchan,” says Izuku, extremely patiently. “You gave me a leaf as proof that you liked me. I kept it. Now I’m holding your hand.”
Bakugou stares at him. His face is completely slack, and Eijirou casts around for a nice leaf of his own. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m returning the sentiment, I guess,” Izuku says. Eijirou finds a cute round green one and holds it out to Bakugou proudly. “You’re my favourite. Always were, still are. Aside from Eijirou, I mean.”
Bakugou looks at Izuku, then at him. “So the two of you…”
“Are dating,” says Eijirou, tucking his leaf into Bakugou’s pocket for safekeeping. “Funny story, actually. We kind of started off liking you and then ended up falling for each other.”
“Still like you, though,” Izuku says and grins. His teeth are very white. “Just thought we’d let you know.”
“But take your time,” Eijirou says and squeezes his hand before letting go. “You don’t have to say anything right now. We’ll take things slowly, okay?”
“Huh,” is all Bakugou says. In a moment of daring Izuku presses his lips to his knuckles. It’s kind of romantic, and Eijirou’s stomach flutters when Izuku turns to look at him. They did it. They said what they wanted and Bakugou doesn’t seem offended, and now all they have to do is wait.
Arm in arm, they leave Bakugou to his thoughts and go back to the dorms to cuddle and play video games on Izuku’s computer.
The next day Eijirou comes to class, only to find chaos.
Iida’s yelling. Yaomomo’s frantically handing out brooms and Kaminari’s laughing himself into a coma. Izuku’s hiding his face in his hands and Bakugou’s staring out the window, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.
The classroom’s covered in leaves. They’re all over the floor, Eijirou’s desk and Izuku’s. Some branches have made their way in there too, and Eijirou wades into the mess and wonders how the hell Bakugou got all this stuff in here without anyone noticing. He’ll probably never tell them, either. He’s hunched over in his seat and his arms are crossed. The back of his neck is red. Eijirou makes eye contact with Izuku, and then they both share a very wide grin.
“Who is responsible for this outrage?” Iida bellows, karate-chopping the air for no reason. “Kirishima! What are you smiling about? Hurry up and help!”
“Sorry,” Eijirou says, taking a broom. “Maybe someone left the windows open overnight and the wind blew them in.” Unlikely. The sea of leaves is almost knee-high. The only thing that could have brought them in here is a hurricane.
“Maybe someone blew up a tree outside or something,” Uraraka says innocently. Izuku giggles into his palm. Bakugou shrinks further but says nothing.
“I think it’s kind of pretty,” Izuku says, picking up a dustpan and brushing some off his desk. “Honesty? I like it.”
“Same here,” Eijirou says loud enough for Bakugou to hear. Giddy with happiness, he bends down and snags one from the pile. It’s sturdy and sits perfectly in his hand. “I think I’m going to keep one.”
“I will too,” Izuku says and watches Bakugou try to hide in his collar. “Come to my room later, Eiji. I’ll show you how to dry these, so you can keep them as long as you want.”