Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Practically half a millisecond. That’s the delay- the unforgivable distance of time- that was uselessly taken up before what was definitely Bakugou’s slipped from his fingers.

The boxed Pro Hero Deku figurine was placed in the crook of some dirty punk’s arm, hustling it close to his body. Bakugou’s eye twitched; deep breaths, deep breaths, like his therapist instructed him.

“Hey. That’s mine.” There had to be some calm and rational way to diffuse the situation, he insisted to himself. He already received a stern talking-to from Aizawa (who, by the way, has no authority to do that anymore, but still does?) from the last slugfest he roped himself into with a civilian.

“Bakugou. Nice seeing you here.”

He squinted, eyeing the stranger up and down- taking a few moments to acknowledge his stupid hat- and then the UA uniform, lapels crisp against the teen’s chest. “Do I know you?”

The extra just huffed through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “I called it the summer of Taken 4: Camp Edition.”

“Mandalay’s brat.” Bakugou spat from behind his teeth, schooling his face into something that resembled a not-threat. He nodded to Kota’s uniform, “UA. Nice.”

“Yep.” Kota remarked, popping the ‘p’ and swinging his weight from one foot to the other. Feet, mind you, that were sporting some pretty obnoxious red shoes- not too far off from the pair that the figurine between them was sporting.

Bakugou ran his tongue against his top row of teeth, attempting to come off as casual,

“So, uh, you’re a fan of that shitty nerd, huh?”

The little brat held the box between his hands, turning it towards himself before pressing it his chin. “I always knew he would be a great hero, you know”

It was a sickly sweet gesture, dripping with admiration and other gross fluffy sentiments that colored Bakugou’s world red.

“Oh really? Nothin’ special. Anyone with half a brain would know that. I did too. From since we met...” Rearing up a big blow, Katsuki grinned, “When we were 4.”

“Did you?”  Kota challenged, eyebrow pitched up. “And now you’re the Wonder Duo.”

“And now we’re the Wonder Duo.” Bakugou agreed, chin tilted up in silent defiance. Beat that.

“So you must be so used to seeing his face, then?” Kota pushed the figurine’s boxed under his armpit, angling it away from Bakugou. “So I gotta ask... why’re you here collecting his merchandise?”

“I never said I was collecting his merchandise.” Bakugou bit out, the highs of his cheeks coloring incriminatingly.

“The nerd… his figurine shit is important to him and he’ll get all pathetic and sad and whatever the fuck if I don’t at least pretend to care.”

“How noble of you.” Kota remarked dryly, not making a move to give Bakugou what is rightfully his. “You should have arrived earlier if you didn’t want to run out of stock.”

“ You should have arrived earlier.” Bakugou took a step forward, swinging his big burly weight around.

“I woke up late.” Kouta checked his nails. “Busy studying hard. I’m 5th in my class.”

“Cute. I was 3rd when I was your age.”

“So I heard. Midoriya’s really proud of me, though. Says I’m a fast learner.”

“When did he say that ?” He spits out, bitter on his tongue.

“We spent a lot of time before my entrance exams. We didn’t get to hang out much after that, but my first semester is ending, so I’m hoping the two of us could… catch up.”

‘ The two of us’ , what a nasty concept; Bakugou vomited a little in his mouth.

“Tough luck, fanboy, my partner and I will be pretty busy the following weeks. Press conferences and peace accords and other pro hero duties.” Bakugou not-bragged, stepping even closer to the twerp’s space. Kota didn’t budge.

“Huh. I’ll have to clarify with Midoriya, then... since he already agreed to seeing that new horror movie with me this Saturday.” Kouta smiled widely- a gross bastardization of the signature Deku grin that hung in fine print all over the store.

"Hah? What the fuck are you going on about? Deku's going places with me this Saturday. Pro Hero stuff. Some shitty high schooler like you wouldn't understand." So maybe this 'pro hero stuff' was actually between himself and like 9 other individuals besides Deku- but this guy doesn't have to know that.

"You really enjoy talking down to me, don't you?" Kota grits his teeth, obviously on edge, but voice kept level. "Do you treat Midoriya this shitily too?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Bakugou huffs.

"A lot of people would like to know, actually. A lot of word is going around about more... intimate aspects of your relationship with Midoriya as the Wonder Duo." Kota drums his fingers on the top of the figurine box. "I for one think that Midoriya shouldn't be seeking that kind of relationship with someone with an attitude like yours."

"Well it's a good thing I don't care what you think." Bakugou says as he cares deeply about what he actually thinks. He's rough along the edges, but he can be fucking sweet! He doesn't have to prove that to anyone, much less this asshole right here.

"Oh, so is Midoriya really seeking a relationship like that then?" And for the first time, there's a crack in Kota's impassive stance. Vulnerability. But also a glimmer of something excited- hopeful.

"I don't give a shit, but if Deku were, hypothetically, looking for a relationship," and Bakugou would be the first to know if he was, as well as the first to line up, and also suspiciously the only one alive in line. "He definitely wouldn't be trying anything with some shitty high schooler." Bakugou sneers, not even attempting to mask the distaste in his tone.

"So stick your obvious fanboy crush up someone else's ass, okay?"

The kid seems to consider this at first before looking Bakugou dead in the eyes, "Well in ten years when your pro hero injuries are forcing you into retirement, this shitty high schooler will have graduated med school and then it will be you versus a hot young doctor with a stable income."

With an air of finality, Kota shoulder-checks Bakugou while carefully holding the coveted Deku figurine in his possession.

"...Bitch."

.

.

“AHH! KACCHAN! I had all those papers organized alphabetically and everything…!”  Izuku scrambled to get on his knees.

“What the fuck are you up to this weekend, nerd?” Bakugou demanded, eyes absolutely not fixated on the slope of Deku’s waist.

“Well we’ll arrive from Osaka at 8AM, then get breakfast at that one place you like next to the dock, and then I was gonna visit my mom, maybe get some groceries, and then hang out with someone before we regroup with Todoroki and Uraraka for that summi-HEY!” The tips of Izuku’s fingers were saved from being crushed under Bakugou’s heel with the barest of margins.

Deku reached around Bakugou’s foot for a flyaway piece of paperwork before he balanced himself on his haunches like a lapping dog, “What’s wrong, Kacchan?”

“Going on a date with a kid half your age? Smarmy. Is that what your Aunt Inko taught you to be like?” He seethed, poison coating his words, betrayal peeking around the corners.

Bakugou prays Deku can see into his intentions: If you want to date, why not date within your age range? Why not date someone closer to you? Why not date an equal?

“Going on a-?! Were you listening? I’m just meeting someone up.” Izuku shuffled to stand, red in the face and placing the haphazardly-stacked pile of papers on his otherwise pristine desk.

Why not date me?

“That’s not what I heard from a certain someone.” Bakugou felt something coil in his gut at the thought of that Limited-Edition-Hero-Deku-Figurine-Stealing bitch. “That little twerp made it very clear to me that he’s tryna get fresh with you.”

At the words, it was like someone lit up a match behind Deku’s eyes.

His freckled skin emanates with excitement as he’s moving closer to Katsuki to hound him for information, “You saw Kota? When? How is he? He’s Class 1-A just like us! He’s so cool, isn’t he? I’m so proud! Did you know he went to me for help for the training exam? I was really nervous and I was really busy, but I could tell it meant a lot to him, and it paid off.”

‘ I’m cool too, loser. ’ Katsuki refrains from saying. ‘Twice- no, a hundred times cooler.’

“Are you going deaf? Answer me! What the hell are you doing dating a guy like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kacchan… Kota and I are just meeting up to watch a movie and catch up. Maybe I can give him some pointers- the first year of high school is always the hardest.” Deku reigns his excitement in, seating himself at his desk to organize his reports back to their previous order.

And with that, Bakugou confirms his greatest fear: Deku is a fucking idiot. Expected, but nothing curbs over the panic that worms it’s head in Bakugou’s periphery.

The nerd may not be able to see it, but he can: the cinema dark and hushed, a lull falls over the patrons, building up to the jumpscare from some B-horror garbage. Not a lot of people go to maritime screenings of scary movies, so best believe that the pair would be pretty alone in the dark.

Izuku’s eyes glaze over and, despite being twenty-fucking-five years old, he huddles backwards into the plush of the seats. Then, oh fuck, and then that water-spitting snake shuffles closer, holds out a hand for Izuku to take- and then… and then-!

“You’re not going.”

“I’m sorry?”

Bakugou fumes, attempting to explode those scenarios from his brain internally,

“Yeah, that’s what you tell him. Tell him you’re fucking sorry because plans have changed, then you get your ass to the summit meeting early and go over the keynote cards Four-Eyes prepared for us.”

Deku pouts. Fucking pouts, like he’s 6 or something. Worse. He pouts like he’s a porcelain bust of some Grecian god of twunks. “I’m not cancelling.” Twunkules declares.

“You bet your ass you are-”

“We’re well-prepared, Kacchan!” Izuku reaches into his left-hand drawer and waves the aforementioned keynote cards under Bakugou’s nose, “I don’t see what the big deal is? I go to the movies with my friends all the time; what makes this one so bad?”

Yes, but none of those dorks ever sized me up, stole my purchases before I could purchase them, and then proceeded to communicate ‘I’m going to get a chunk of that Deku ass and you’re not’ with their eyes.

“I don’t trust him.”

“You’re kidding.” Deku notes in disbelief, returning to his files.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Bakugou challenges, smacking his flat palm on Deku’s table. There’s no fucking way he’ll allow these shenanigans to go any longer.

Where the fuck was he at while Deku was canoodling with some teenager on hero ethics 101? How did they study? Did they sit opposite each other in some dingy diner, passing notes? Did it get so loud and stuffy that that twerp slid himself in the same side of the booth and Deku? Did he ghost his fingers on top of Deku’s, feigning stupidity, “tell me how you got that answer again, Midoriya?” like some kind of thot?

“I see what’s going on.” Deku hummed softly, reaching over and placing a calloused palm over Bakugou’s hand.

“...You do?” Bakugou swallowed air, his hands collecting perspiration.

“I do.” Deku nodded, eyes closed, as in contemplating.

“Kota was there at your worst during summer camp and you’re embarrassed having him around. You don’t have any reason to feel insecure, Kacchan. He doesn’t see you as any lesser from what happened then; no one does. Okay?”

With that, Deku squeezed their hands on top of each other before resuming to the work at hand.

“But if the summit-thing really bothers you, I’ll move our get-together tomorrow instead!”

.

.

“This is war, Kirishima.” Bakugou growls, pacing back and forth, effectively further ruining Kirishima’s shitty thrift carpet at his so-called ‘bachelor pad’.

To be fair, only Kirishima himself calls it a ‘bachelor pad’, everyone else just calls it ‘sad’.

Sero once called it ‘Ejirou’s “When-Will-Ashido-Text-Me-Back” Nook” and the entire gang had to sit back and watch Kirishima drink himself into a stupor while vehemently denying that those two events had any correlation to each. He just “felt like getting black-out sloshed that night, okay, guys?”

“He’s a high schooler. You are threatening a high schooler.” Kirishima spoke from behind his hands, fingers pressed together over his lips, in what seemed like a silent prayer.

“ You don'T UNDERSTAND, SHITTY HAIR. THIS IS WAR! DID YOU SEE WHAT THE TAGS FROM HIS INSTAGRAM POST WITH DEKU WERE!? #myhero?! HE'S FUCKING DEAD!”

“Ooh, ‘Shitty Hair’. Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Kirishima noted, genuinely surprised and entirely missing the point.

“You just don’t get it, motherfucker! Watch! Watch as this kid worms himself into Deku’s life as leverage for his own fucking selfish gains and then wrings him dry. And think of what this will do to Pro Hero Deku’s image! Preying on an underage teen? It’ll ruin him! Ruin me by association!”

Ruin us. Any chances of an “us”.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m protecting the fucking nerd!” Bakugou bites out, turning away to land a blow to the punching bag in the dead-fucking-center of the room. His mother would faint at the sight of such horrid interior design.

“Come h- Leave her alone. Dude, come here.” Kirishima fussed, patting neon-colored bean bag next to him.

“Did you just call your punching bag a ‘her’?”

“Let’s not change subjects, Bakubro. I think it’s time for you to tell Deku how you feel.”

“I did tell him how I felt about that bastard! And then what does he do? He moves their date closer! What the fuck is up with that, huh?” Bakugou hates the fucking bean bags, but considering it’s the only furniture he can place his ass on without fear of sitting on a piece of exercise equipment hidden underneath it, he allows himself to sink into the PVC pellets.

“I meant… how you really feel…” Kirishima started patiently, “Katsuki…”

Oh no, he was using that name with that voice, “If you told Midoriya that you were interested in him, maybe-”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t wanna hear this spiel from you of all people!” Bakugou screeches, turning over and burrowing further into the bean bag, hoping to find an escape.

“You harrassed the extra at the information commons over the guy Mina did a magazine spread with; I don’t give a fuck what you have to say to me about dating and relationships.”

“That has nothing to do with the matter at hand!” Kirishima denied, the tips of his ears blending to his hair, “And I never harassed Kuroda-san for information about Cygnus, I just politely as-”

“Unlike Raccoon Eyes, I’m not interested.”

“Don’t hurt me like that, bro.”

With a few moments of silence passing between them, Katsuki actually wondered if he really did hurt his friend’s feelings, all until he felt Kirishima’s full weight envelop him from behind.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

“Shh… You’re lashing out because you’re scared and hurt. I get it.”

“THE ONLY THING YOU’LL GET IS MY FIST IN YOUR FACE IF YOU DON’T FUCK OFF.”

.

.

It fucking astounds Bakugou that Deku could still look so fresh-faced despite the hustle of the day. His suit didn’t match, though- all tired and gray. The pads at the shoulders were ill-fitting, making it look as if his biceps were a slim breadth away from ripping the seams. Hot.

“What are you smiling about, Midoriya?”

“Ah? Todoroki! Hey! Just got here? It’s good to see you.”

“...Sure.” Half-and-half nodded after a few beats. Bakugou actually saw him step inside the private room like 22 minutes ago, awkwardly hovering behind Deku and Round-Face like a loser.

Maybe a few years back, he’d give him hell for it, but since CandyCane Man over there started shacking up with Yaoyorozu and effectively crossing himself out of Bakugou’s hit list (Sero calls it “Katsuki’s Potentially Love Rivals List”), he’ll let it slide this once.

“I heard YaoMomo couldn’t make it! That’s too bad, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” Uraraka huffs, like a blowfish.

“She has an engagement with Kyouka, she told me.”

“Woah, wait a minute, like… plans? General casual plans? Or like…?” Uraraka makes the motion of slipping a ring into her finger. She’s a beacon of gossip nowadays.

“Oh. I’m not sure.” Todoroki hums thoughtfully.

He takes it back, Todoroki is definitely back on Katsuki’s Potenti- Hit List .

“Look at this cute picture Izumi sent me, Todoroki!” Deku waves his phone in front of Todoroki’s face. “He has his own friend group and everything! Kind of like us then, you know?”

“Who is Izumi?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Kota, I mean. Do you remember him?”

“Yeah, he’s Mandalay’s cousin’s son. From our first year summer camp.” Uraraka supplies. She turns to Izuku with a wide, teasing smile on her bubbly face.

“Look at you, being on first-name basis with The Youths.” She nudges him and throws what could be gang signs in an effort to emphasize ‘The Youths’.

Deku just nodded, “He was really adamant about it too. He must really want us to be close; I’m super flattered he wants to get to know me better! I feel like I’m being interviewed sometime- but I think it’s sweet.”

“Oh, like what does he ask?” Ochako muses, picking off the row of pastries they had laid out on the table next to them.

“Well, he asked me if I had a preference on which direction I swing! No one asked me that before, you know? And I never really thought about it. I usually go with my right hand, being right-handed and all, but I am thinking that I am getting too predictable with my opening attack. What do you think?”

Todoroki nodded, ever clueless, “I’ve always thought you swung both ways equally. Or at least I never noticed you favored your right. But predictability is a factor you should consider taking more seriously. Iida sent me this essay last week someone made on the probability if I will use fire or ice as my opening. There was a lot of things I hadn’t realized about myself.”

Uraraka blinked between the both of them, transfixed and in a daze, but mostly stifling laughter.

Bakugou wished he could take such matters as equally light.

Chapter Text

If Bakugou had any morsel of salvation scavenged from this clusterfuck of bullshit circumstances, it lies in that Midoriya himself has fostered a professional distance between himself and that water hose hoe.

It’s in the way Deku says his name, Izumi - it’s hesitant and unfamiliar, foreign on his tongue. The way the name is said is legions away from the casual and intimate nature that Deku had always called for Katsuki.

“Kacchan, can you take a look at this?”

“You made that reporter cry, Kacchan.”

“That collapsing building had nothing to do with me, Kacchan! I swear!”

“Kacchan! On your left!”

“Can you touch me here, Kacchan?”

Granted, maybe that last bit was taken out of context (but boy, does Bakugou wish Deku had said it in reference to something that wasn’t a dark bruise forming at his hip). The point still stands!

For this, the explosion hero may allow himself to be smug.

Some young hotshot can’t contend with years and years of experiences; if Kota thinks he can circumvent what Bakugou has been building on for the past 21 years, then he’s more of a dumbass than Bakugou had given him credit for.

Of course, knowing his competition is undeniably, irrefutably beneath him doesn’t mean that Bakugou can sleep on the matter so soundly.

No, no.

As a great philosopher once said: soon as you wake, you must keep an eye out for the snakes.

( “That’s Nicki Minaj, Kacchan.”

“Did I fucking stutter? I said ‘a great philospher once said’, didn’t I? Are you going senile on me?”)

“All the civilians have been filed out accordingly now.” Deku’s shoulders relaxed, easing the sleeve of his hero costume off with one hand while the other holds his cellphone. “Some 3 or 4 with a couple scrapes, but everyone is A-okay. We did pretty great, Kacchan!”

“We did fucking amazing, Deku. Don’t sell me short.” Don’t sell us short, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

Can’t.

Absolutely not looking at the scared and burnt expanse of skin underneath Deku’s collarbone, Bakugou rattles on,

“Who’s dicking around in the disaster area to tell you that anyway, huh? Is it the frog lesbian? I don’t give a damn how many fans want autographs, the clean-up crew and first aid need us to bolt before they arrive.”

“No, Tsuyu is at her tsunami disaster training workshop in Kanazawa until next month.” Izuku cooly explains, thumb flying across the screen, “K-Izumi passed by on his way home.”

He counts backwards from ten in his head,

“If he’s so fixed on getting good grades and following up with med school, maybe he shouldn’t be wasting his time following your scent like a useless lost puppy.” Bakugou critiques objectively .

Still, like clockwork, Izuku’s eyebrows pull together, “That’s not very nice, Kacchan.” He tuts, “I was like that too when I was his age- there’s nothing quite like first-hand experience to learn from.” He reminisces.

Except Izuku is being clueless, as usual.

A couple of pointed interrogations to his associates ( “We’re your friends, Bakubro.” ) has proven that that horned hat is absent from any of Kirishima, Kaminari, or Sero’s heroic interventions.

Kota’s only there for Deku.

“Whatever. The little twerp will get himself in trouble if he doesn’t stay in his lane.”

“I’m sure Ishum- …uh, Izumi can manage himself.”

Bakugou throws his glove to the back of his locker with much more force than necessary, “Why do you insist on calling him that ? You don’t like to.”

Deku shimmies his hips, his hero suit falling away to reveal faded All Might boxers, “What do you mean?”

“Just say ‘Kota’! It’s so fucking obvious you’re uncomfortable calling him by his first name! It’s not natural for you and it’s annoying to watch you stumble around your words like a dork.” Bakugou berates, scrubbing his ungloved hand over his eyes to communicate his frustration and cover up the flushing of his cheeks.

To his surprise, Deku doesn’t immediately go off with “Oh but Izumi this and Izumi that, and Izumi has feelings, ” and other garbled noise. Instead, he contemplates.

For once in his goddamn life, Deku actually seems to be listening.

Bakugou inwardly sighs.

“I guess… Well, yeah, it’s kinda weird since I’ve been calling him ‘Kota’ for so many years now.” Deku folds up his costume in a neat square.

“See?” Katsuki gloats, peeling his top off and surreptitiously grinning wickedly into the sweat-wicking fabric.

Midoriya sits on the bench in order to smoothly dive his leg into his navy pair of joggers, “But I don’t want to devolve into ‘just Kota ’. That doesn’t feel natural either, you know what I mean?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Bakugou frowns pointedly- frowns even more pointedly when he finds Deku’s eyes transfixed back on his phone.

You’d think two paragons of the male specimen alone and shirtless in a closed environment would be doing something - something at all. Anything!

“Maybe I can give him a nickname!”

It’s doing nothing .

Bakugou stomps his bare foot on the floor, fingers twitching,“And what the fuck would possess you to do that ?!”

“Ko...ta… Kooouuu…. Ta? -Ta. Koko? No. Kota-kun? Ta-kun? Takkun? Tekken? Street Fighter.”

“Just ‘ Kota ’ is fine, nerd! Leave it!” Deku’s mouth and tongue only continue forming different shapes around the syllables. Izuku’s thumb hovers ominously over the screen.

“ Dekkuuu…. ” Bakugou warns, patience waning ever so quickly. This is the complete opposite of his intentions. The last thing he needs is the brat getting all familiar and affectionate with Deku by way of some kind of pet name that-

Deku snaps his fingers, eyes agleam, grin triumphant “Kocchan!”

Bakugou feels his entire world fall apart.

”You know, like Kota-chan? It sounds cute doesn’t it? I’ll ask him if that’s okay.” Izuku rambles, shooting a text over to that Twunkules-devottee.

Un- fucking -believable.

Bakugou turns around and positions his head against the locker’s frame before moving to slam it’s door repeatedly against his temples.

.

.

“Ground Zero.” Cygnus nods in acknowledgement, iridescent white feathers lining his head catching the light that streams from an adjacent window.

“Bird-brain.” Bakugou replies, corners of his eyes a stark red, punching in his usual caffeine fix into the machine next to the water cooler.

“Your arm getting better?” The Swan Song hero gestured to the geometric stitching running up and down the side of Bakugou’s leg. The lengths Katsuki had to go through to haggle the maximum shortness of bottoms he could wear.

He couldn’t stand the hems of his shorts brushing over the healing, itchy skin around his sewed up gash- and no, by the way, he doesn’t give a shit if it’s “inappropriate” or “distracting” to be in cycling shorts in HQ. Aoyama can keep his eyes to himself.

“Barely.” Bakugou blew on the rim of his paper cup.

Cygnus nodded to himself, impassive and cool as ever, “LifeThread ensures perfect recovery- not a speedy one. She’s a great addition to the agency.”

He let the warm coffee sit in his mouth for a moment, “Yeah. I heard she has some kind of fucking crush on you or whatever.”

His workmate’s lips twitch. “Where did you hear that?”

“Around.” Bakugou gestured vaguely, shifting his weight to his good leg. If he’s gonna waste his time doing some chit chat, he might as well do a bro a solid. Never let Kirishima say that Bakugou never done anything for the him.

“She’s… nice. She’s all over you too.” Katsuki attempted to scrounge up even an ounce of believability in his tone.

Cygnus may be the stoic type, but he’s not socially inept. It’ll take a lot more than pussyfooting to get him off of Mina’s tail.

To his benefit, Cygnus seems to take the bait. “I’ll deliberate that with her, then. Thank you for telling me. She does have a pleasant personality.”

“Yeah. Sure. Don’t mention it.” Bakugou tosses his paper cup in the green disposal and hobbles off, intending to never speak of this interaction ever again. “You kids have fun.”

“Mhm. Speaking of kids, when you see him, please tell Hero Deku how touched I am regarding the articles about how close he is to UA’s new batch of freshmen. They seemed to be having so much in the pictures of their training exercise.”

“...What articles?”

.

.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, DEKU? HUH?”

Deku holds his gaze to the offending reading material as he catches his chopsticks before they roll off the cafeteria table. “Oh, you read that, Kacchan? Yeah, Thirteen had invited me over to hold some talks and I decided to join in on their exercise. Thirteen is so amazing, it’s like they haven’t aged a single year! They’re as sharp as ever!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck on the how , Deku! I wanna know why that little twerp is full-on FONDLING YOUR TITS!”

Midoriya has the audacity to let out a little ‘ eep! ’ and bring his hands up to his blushing cheeks as if it’s not the most endearing action ever.

“Kacchan! Don’t be so lewd! It’s nothing like that!” He denies, carefully taking note of his surrounding should any other heroes have overheard their conversation.

Todoroki hadn’t even looked up from his bowl of cold soba.

“A student was absent so I decided to fill in the role of a rescuer and Kocchan played as a victim of a landslide. I carried him on my back to safety. It felt really cool! Everyone was so excited and cheering me on! They added a few more disaster simulations to USJ, did you hear?”

Soon, Bakugou thinks to himself, if the brat continues to place his filthy hands on things that aren’t his, Kota won’t just be pretending to be a victim of a landslide.

“ Dekkuuu… ” He counts all up to 4- which, in this circumstance, is pretty impressive of him. His therapist would be so proud. “He is literally cupping each of your pecs in his grabby little paws.”

He stabs his index finger to the corner spread- Deku looking triumphant and his hair looking fingerfucked by a loving breeze. Kota had grown to be a healthy height, almost surpassing Izuku already.

Kota locked his ankles around the girth of Deku’s torso, while he rounded his thin spaghetti arms underneath Deku’s armpits.

It didn’t take a genius to note how fiercely he held Deku’s chest in his grip.

At the accusation, Midoriya only flushed harder. His face pulled as if he had swallowed something unbelievably sour.

“Tell your stalker to lay the fuck off of you…!” Bakugou bit out, exasperated, almost pleading even. He’s not sure how much more of this torture he can take.

Watching Midoriya check out of the agency early is one thing, seeing Kota’s Instagram posts (the one where the pair is sitting so close that their biceps press against each other makes Bakugou wish there was an un-heart button in the app), but this bullshit takes the fucking cake!

Izuku only continues to pull that ugly face.

When he speaks, his voice is somber, “I don’t like your tone right now, Kacchan.”

By the way the atmosphere turns alarmingly cold, Bakugou has half a mind to glance at IcyHot. Did he suddenly decide to make it winter this June? However, Katsuki only finds the flame and ice hero still engrossed in making out with his noodles.

“I’ve been really patient with you recently,” Izuku begins, emerald eyes glaring into Katsuki, “and I really thought you got past your immaturity... but I guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou swallows. His throat feels like a desert.

Abruptly, Deku stands, the rest of his meal left unfinished, “When you decide to stop being like… like this , and start respecting Kocchan (Bakugou feels like he's been stabbed), find me, why don’t you?”

With a quiet huff, Deku grabs his tray and leaves the cafeteria, only pausing to carefully segregate his biodegradables from his non-biodegradables in the bin next to the doors.

Katsuki stands there, in a trance.

Dispelling his torpor, Todoroki smacked his lips, “You done fucked up, son.”

.

.

He’s not hiding from Deku.

He wants to make that abundantly clear.

That extra that works with robbery investigation from 4/f just looked like he would die if he had to carry those boxes for a second longer. Bakugou’s a hero, isn’t he? He should be helping people or whatever the fuck.

It doesn’t matter that his leg is still healing and the skin looks gross- he’s got things to do.

Official merchandise is overseen by the dickbags in HR; they keep the approved stocks, awaiting shipment, in a dingy storage room in the basement. Bakugou notes that this is actually the first time he’s ever been in here since he joined the agency.

Hauling the last shipment of Serophane’s merchandise, Bakugou bends backwards to stretch his sore muscles.

Sure, the tape dispensers and patterned shoelaces are pretty mediocre, but considering Hanta’s other bright idea was ‘Official Taping Hero:Serophane-Endorsed Bondage Kits’ , the former is definitely better than the later.

To be honest, what the fuck is he even doing here in this dusty basement? His therapist would be so disappointed. Emotional resolve be damned. Bakugou sits himself down on a taped up box after making sure it wouldn’t give under his weight.

What the fuck is he so scared about anyway? Deku is too oblivious- entirely removed from romanticism.

Try as he might, that brat wouldn’t get anywhere with the nerd, not even if he made a powerpoint presentation about it (And yeah, Bakugou had already tried that; that day was apparently the anniversary of their first battle as partners, leading Izuku to get wet in the eyes instead of anywhere else. I mean sure, they went out for dinner later, but Deku had went and invited anyone and everyone to ‘ commemorate the celebration’ and ‘ I can’t believe you remembered the date, Kacchan! It means a lot ’.)

If anything, Kota’s out there barking up the wrong tree. Deku ain’t shit. His pecs aren’t that nice (Deku's ass and thighs are where it’s at). Bakugou’s pecs are far superior! He gropes his chest, feeling for the hard lines of muscle dancing across his upper body.

Katsuki’s a fucking catch. He’s all gorgeous angles and dynamic lines. If Deku ain’t interested, it’s the loser’s fucking loss, not Bakugou’s.

“Oh hey, Bakugou! You… uhm, wha’cha doing?”

Katsuki briefly looks down to find his hand still grasping his left tit tenderly.

“...Checking for breast cancer.” 

Kaminari blinks.

“ What? You think I’d be careless about my health? I maintain perfect wellbeing, thank you very much.” He spits, releasing his breast.

Denki takes a while to process this, but ultimately nods, “That’s a good point.”

“Fuck are you doing here?” He hops off the box, cautious to land on his good leg.

“Just finished signing a bunch of posters! My wrist is all sore!” He whines, gargling in his throat. Kaminari unfurls a copy from the box.“Tell me honestly, does this picture make my head look big?”

“The picture doesn’t make your head look big, your big head makes your head look big.” Bakugou answers, not missing a beat.

“You’re testy, Bakugou~” Kaminari tuts. He turns the poster to himself, sizing up his visage. “Are you still upset about the Deku-thing?”

“There is no ‘ Deku-thing’ to be upset about because there is no ‘ Deku-thing’ .” Katsuki clarifies in a totally not-guilty way. He moves to exit. “And tell Shark Week to keep his dumb bitch mouth shut for once! After all I did for him…”

“Wait, wait!” Kaminari releases the lower half of the poster, allowing it to curl back in on itself. He jogs to stand in front of a seething Bakugou’s way. “Yeah, Kirishima told me about it, but I think you just need to have a conversation with Midoriya. I really do.”

“Not your business.”

“I’m your friend!”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow.

“I’m Midoriya’s friend?” Electric Boogaloo tries again.

“Yeah, I get it, fucking Deku’s got all sorts of friends nowadays. Now fuck off.” He Kaminari pushes aside.

“At least kiss and make up before he takes days off at the end of the week? You know no one can work properly with you fuming all over the place.”

“Oi! What the fuck’s he taking days off for?” Bakugou demanded, wholly caught off-guard.

As partners, they should both be aware of each other’s schedules.

As… friends… or whatever the fuck they’re supposed to be, doubly they should be aware of what goes on in their respective lives.

“It’s the annual UA swimsuit carwash fundraiser event!” Denki hollers with both his fists in the air, “I heard Mount Lady is supervising the entire thing! It's gonna be super hot!”

“Yeah, yeah, your vore fetish- whatever . What does Deku have to do with this?” Bakugou tapped his foot impatiently.

“Uh? Midoriya’s joining? Duh? He told me and Kiri yesterday when we met up for lunch that he never usually joins in on these kinds of things, says it’s too embarrassing, but that Kota kid and even Eri- you remember Eri?- were really persistent and he didn’t want to let them down so he decided to go o- Ba- Bakugou where are you going? Bakugou, come back!”

Chapter Text

“Kacchan?! What are you doing here?”

Had he not called him by his nickname and turned around, Katsuki would never have recognized Gimpy over here to actually be Deku, of all people.

You’d think being in the hero game for so long, there’s nothing left to be unprepared for, right? All the injustices in the world- you’ve had a taste, dipped your toe in it, actually. But this, this is some bullshit.

And it wasn’t just that Deku was sporting a dark green wetsuit with cutouts; it was that those cutouts seemed intentionally crafted by Satan. Bakugou had literally just stepped out here, in the parking lot behind the Support Team’s dorm building, but he’s already run faded.

“...What? Am I not allowed to do charity work too? On top of not being allowed to call snakes out when I see them?” He spat out after composing himself.

Moving forward, making sure to puff out his chest (his pecs are great!), he dropped the 2 pails of soapy water he was carrying onto the tarmac with a disgruntled huff.

As great as they are, Bakugou’s pecs don’t contain a mood-lifting quirk. As if remembering he was supposed to be mad, Deku’s soft features turned hard.

Placing his attention back to the task on hand, Deku turned away and bent over the hood he was supposed to be cleaning for charity. Another soft thing went hard, but that’s not important right now, Bakugou reminded himself.

“Are you really here to harass me? That’s a new low, Kacchan.” Midoriya scrubbed a little too hard on the hood of Best Jeanist’s Ford. It’s big talk for someone whose favorite outdoor activity is going back indoors.

“Get over yourself, shitty nerd. I’m here because I want to help.”

“You told me last week how much you hated these charity events!”

Fuck, Bakugou inwardly cursed. He did say that.

Honestly, the primary invitation to join this shitfest went over his head. It was Uraraka (probably?) who came bouncing up to his and Deku’s shared office space 2 Mondays ago to announce UA’s car-washing event.

But to be fair, that space hasn’t been shared eversince the Great Cafeteria Calamity , as Todoroki had dubbed it when relaying to Kaminari the proceedings of that one Wednesday morning. Midoriya had started operating on a different routine since then and, no matter how Bakugou may attempt to ‘accidentally’ stumble into Deku anywhere, Deku’s just nowhere to be found.

It’s always him exiting a room as soon as Bakugou arrives.

Eyes never meeting over the meeting desk.

Deku’s mug left next to the sink, drying, as if newly washed. Definitely newly washed.

The seat at Deku’s desk is empty more often. The vintage All Might bomber jacket that is usually slung over the back (in case Deku gets chilly) has been absent for a while.

It’s fucking infuriating is what it is. Arriving late. Leaving early.

And very lonely.

But mostly infuriating.

All this nonsensical bullshit for one high schooler. All this for some extra that never even registered on his radar because he was just that unimportant. The fucking waiter at the restaurant across the street had made Bakugou’s Potentially Lo- Hit List ! So why didn’t fucking Kota?

How could he have been so blindsided?

Deku’s still sizing him up. Waiting for a response Bakugou isn’t ready to give.

This is a goddamn interrogation, it feels. The hot sun looming over their heads shines like those lamps that the bad cop shoves in the suspect’s face in the crime dramas they used to play over making dinner whenever Bakugou crashed at Deku’s place.

Used to .

It’s only been a handful of days, Bakugou reminds himself, that Deku has made it his modus operandi to disappear from his life.

He shouldn’t be pining this hard from such a minute separation.

And yet…

.

.

.

Really thinking about it, ever since Deku watched that movie with Kota the first time, he’s just been away more. Bakugou’s heart pulls at that.

It’s not that he’s never realized that Deku is popular. To be fair, as the number 1 pro hero duo, both of their time is always fought over.

Katsuki wouldn’t even glance at a reporter’s way for less than 30,000 yen anymore.

( “Kacchan, don’t be like that. That’s rude! They’re fans of yours, you should be grateful.”

“Haah?? They should be grateful for me! I’m the one busting ass to protect them! Blessing their eyes with my face shouldn’t be free.”

“Hm. I’m looking at you right now and I don’t feel very blessed.”

“What a fucking mouth on you, Deku. Wanna try saying that to my face? He-! Hey! Come back here!)

However, those stipulations had only applied for public appearances, interviews, workshops and keynotes and ceremonies… shit like that. Pro-hero shit like that. Private time has always been for Katsuki and Izuku.

Waiting for each other to pack up.

Kicking shoes off at the door.

Crudely minced carrots.

Fighting over the remote.

But silver linings, right? Deku remembers Bakugou’s mini-rant on UA’s charity events. It was nice to know that even little unimportant ramblings of his took space in Deku’s memories. Comforting. Oh. That felt good.

Now’s the time, is it? To say something sweet about it? ‘You helped change my mind’ and all that rom shit. ‘You helped me become a better man’.

“Fuck off, I’m allowed to change my mind, loser.”

Nice going .

“And what the fuck is going on with your swimsuit, hah? You on a competition to get the dumbest tan lines?” Bakugou supplied, desperate to talk about anything else.

At least they were talking , he inwardly sighed, taking a sponge in his hand and going to town on the grime that collected underneath the spoiler.

Deku fidgets, cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement of his raunchy outfit.

The pro hero moves his scarred arms over his torso, attempting to cover up the little peeks of muscles and curves his get-up exposes. It’s fucking useless, though. Deku’s out here looking like prime beefcake.

When Midoriya shuffles his feet, Katsuki notices the cuts at his hips that frame the sharp lines of his hip bones.

Bakugou scrubs a little harder at the grime. Fucking germs.

“Mt. Lady wouldn’t allow me to participate with my wetsuit…” Deku mumbles, wringing the wet rag between his thick fingers, “She said the skin ratio was unfavorable? Something like that, so-”

“So I decided to come in and save the day!” Mina slides in on her slippery heels. Her white bikini is decorated with ruffles.

The pinkette pulls at the material at Deku’s hip and snaps it back in place. Izuku yelps and swats her hand away.

“Nothing a pair of scissors can’t fix, am I right? Doesn’t he look tasty?” She punctuates her sentence with a smack of her lips.

“He looks like a BDSM playbunny.” Bakugou grumbles, throwing a wet sponge at Mina. “Shitty nerd could be wearing a banana hammock and still be more decent! There are kids here, Raccoon Eyes.”

“What a downer.” Mina pouts, throwing the sponge back at Katsuki.

She turns her attention to Deku, “Don’t worry, Midoriya! I think you look great! Don’t listen to Bakugou.”

I never said he looked bad , Bakugou wants to say. But he’s not privy to the way Deku’s body is practically laid out like a buffet for the eyes. He wants to scream.

Rubbing his face, Katsuki carefully fishes out his phone from his trunks’ back pocket and tries to punch in his security code through the ziplock bag he placed it in.

“Smile over here, losers.”

“K-Kacchan?! What are you doing?” Deku slides himself behind Ashido.

“Making memories, nerd. What the fuck’s your problem?”

“C’mon, Midoriya baby!” Ashido beckons, snaking an arm around Deku’s waist and flashing a peace sign.

A couple camera clicks later, Bakugou sends pictures over to Kirishima’s number.

[10:03 AM] BakuGone for Deku sent a picture

[10:03 AM] Carmine Commotion: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: ASHIDO WHY

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: I didnt know she was gonna be there at the carwashh

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: :( :( :(

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Hhhh i can’t breathe i see the light hello grandma i missed you

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Tell her I said hi ok!!!!!!

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Wait wait no don’t do that that’s weird right?

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Ah waitt nevermind, I want her to know i thinks he looks gr9/ she looks like an angel omg

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: But she probably already knows and i’ll just look creeppyyyyy ,, Baku what do

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Oh dekus there too

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Why does he look like leela from fifth element lmao

[10:04 AM] Carmine Commotion: Did you tell Ashido yet or what?? What did she saaaay :(

“Did you just come over to corner me and then text on your phone?” Deku dips his fingers into the bucket of cold water and flicks little droplets on Baku’s face, unafraid. “Come on, at least pretend to benefit the cause.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you telling me what to do dressed like a leather daddy.” Bakugou pockets his plastic-wrapped phone, watching Deku’s cheeks turn pink.

“You’re the worst. I hate you.” Deku hops on the hood to reach farther along.

“All over one shitty high schooler?” Bakugou sneers, pretending like that didn’t hurt. He looks around for Mina, but finds her elsewhere, wiping the windshield of a Chevy.

“You really think this is just about Kocchan?” Deku sits back and stares Bakugou down. The sun lights up the green tips of his hair like a viridian halo.

Mesmerized, Bakugou just shrugs.

“I finally get new friends who want to genuinely hang out with me f-for fun! Not just for work… and you’re treating it like it’s a bad thing…” Deku holds himself, wet rag laid across his thigh. “I don’t even understand what your problem is, it’s not affecting your life in the least bit.”

Wrong .

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bakugou hops on the hood as well- albeit on the farthest side. “You hang out with Round Face and Glasses and Icy-Hot an-”

“It’s different! We’ve known each other for so long… N-Not that they’re boring now! They’re still wonderful. But Kocchan…” Midoriya gets this dreamy look in his eyes, and it makes Bakugou sick to his stomach, “He always waits on me. He thinks I’m so cool. It’s really… nice.”

Bakugou picks at a stain on the hood’s surface.

“What are you saying? The twerp is your ego boost?” It’s half in jest, but mostly in incredulity.

Upon the terse silence, Bakugou glances up to find Deku glaring at him.

It’s surprisingly paralyzing.

“So what if it is for my ego! I want to feel like I’m worth waiting on and making plans for and-and…” Izuku throws his hands up in exasperation.

Like a glock with it’s safety off, Deku fires.  “What does it even matter to you?”

“What does it even matter to me!? ” Katsuki hops off and stabs Deku in the chest with his index finger.

Hurt. Hurt deeply .

Deku’s words were like bullets that riddled across Bakugou’s ribcage.

“I make plans with you all the time! You telling my time is no big deal or something, hah?” He can feel his lip tremble, but ignores it to stab at Deku’s chest more.

“Kacch- Ka-! Stop! That tickles!” Deku holds Bakugou’s wrist. “That… That’s different.” He speaks softly.

This right here cracks top 5 worst ways he could discover he’s not even in the running for Deku’s heart. The worst part is, Katsuki can feel his phone vibrate his ass from Kirishima’s rapid-fire texts.

“We’re always… It’s convenient.” Deku says with finality.

Katsuki rips his wrist away.

“YOU THINK I HANG OUT WITH YOU JUST BECAUSE IT’S CONVENIENT FOR ME?!” The explosion hero looks around, realizing he may have went an octave or two too high to fall in the parameters of ‘indoor voice’.

Once he glared everyone into submission, Katsuki whipped his attention back to Deku, “Where did you get that stupid fucking idea?”

Affronted, Izuku just curls up on himself, “I don’t know! I mean! You only invite me home when you need something done, o-or there’s paperwork due or something… And whenever you go with me to my place, it’s always just because...”,

Deku drops his pitch in such a begrudgingly cute way that Bakugou needs to really try and stop himself from smothering the shitty nerd with fucking kisses against his soft goddamn cheeks,

“It’s raining and your place is nearer’ or ‘I don’t feel like cooking food in my own kitchen tonight, shitty nerd ” or some other stuff like that…!” The corners of Midoriya’s mouth pulls in an effort to mirror Katsuki’s signature scowl. It’s offensive- but mostly because he’s actually doing a good job.

But no, the worst thing about Deku’s tirade is that he’s not wrong.

While skirting around his feelings and playing it cool… so what? Maybe Bakugou did make it seem like there were always alternative agendas for hanging together.

But it’s not like that, okay! It’s never been like that!

Being with Izuku is… joyful. Carefree.

Which is ironic, considering who they were and what they did for a living.

We’ve spent time doing nothing at all , he wants to argue, just your head in my lap while I try not to pop a boner .

But then again, it’s never planned that way. He’s never said it explicitly- it’s always excuses and rationale ...So maybe Deku’s not completely in the wrong for believe Bakugou only hangs out with him for convenience.

Maybe he should… tell him how he feels.

Fucking Kirishima. It’s always atrocious whenever the little fucker is right.

“Look, Deku,” Bakugou charges in before even setting up a strategy. Izuku looks to him, lip worried between his teeth and body language defensive. Bakugou realizes he’s way in over his head.

“Midoriya-Senpai!”

“Midoriya!”

A pair of students skip over the puddles of soapy water. There’s Kota and-

“Eri?” Bakugou zeroes in on the lone horn half-obscured by her white bangs.

“Bakugou-Senpai!” She greets with a courteous bow. “I didn’t know you were helping out too! We’re very grateful.”

“Yeah, I’m… all about the charity events.” Bakugou hears Deku softly giggle behind his hands as the motherfucker hops off the hood of Best Jeanist’s car.

“Kocchan! Eri! It’s good to see you. Thanks for inviting me again.”

‘ Kocchan ’ is still considering Bakugou with a wary glare before he bodily turns attention to BDSM-hero over there. There are red splotches all over the crests of Kota’s face; if Sero honest-to-God believes that Bakugou is being obvious with his infatuations, he’s clearly never been witness to these motherfucking shenanigans.

Bakugou has half a mind to dump this cold, soapy water all over the twerp and claim he just tripped. With fingers itching at the pail’s handle, he realizes Deku’s not even remotely looking his way to recognize his violent intentions and come stop him.

Izuku’s given his full attention to the two high schoolers who are practically crowing at his feet. Are they serious right now? Is Eri a part of this fuckery too? Fuck this.

Here’s his karma for having his impulse control being the one guy in this whole vicinity who is actively trying to ignore him, Bakugou laments, wiping the sweat that had gathered on his brow with his forearm.

Shit. Bakugou shuts his eyes hard, gathering some bravado in wherever crevice inside his body he can extract it from. He scolds himself inwardly, If Deku wants to be feel wanted, fuck it! I’m going to want him so fucking bad I’ll make everyone in a 30-foot radius uncomfortable with my wanting.

“Hey brats,” he bites. “Let’s, um, we should train together. No, wait, let’s train together. I’m not asking, I’m telling you.” He points his index between Kota and Eri.

Before either of them could get a peep in, his slings his arm around Deku’s broad shoulders, “We’ll show you how great heroes should be like! Since- Since you guys better be looking up to us. Consider this a blessing.”

Deku’s shoulders hike up at the wet, slippery contact; honestly maybe such a cheesy gesture wasn’t in either of their best interests at the moment.

“Wahh! Bakugou-senpai and Midoriya-senpai are going to assess us?” Eri shakes Kota’s arms in her delicate grasp, eyes sparkling. “It would mean a lot to us! Are you sure?”

Kota is clearly jarred. He’s been spending time with Izuku Midoriya, getting glimpses into his professional life, but that inside scoop is nothing compared to the real thing: Deku the pro hero in his athletic glory. Butt looking good in a skintight hero costume. Not that Bakugou would be the one to acknowledge it.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” Katsuki commits to the weird arm-slinging thing and grips at Deku’s exposed bicep. Grips it, okay? He’s not fondling, alright? It might look that way, but he swears he’s just holding it like a casual bro.

“Kacchan, what are you-?”

“Yeah, are you sure?” The water hose ho is caught somewhere between suspicion and awe. It’s a dark haze where he’s lost at. One side of his face keeps twitching. “Is it alright with Izuku?”

Little fucker calls Deku by his first name… What bullshit.

Kota’s gaze turns steely when he catches Bakugou rolls his eyes, “Are you okay with this? I didn’t know you cared so much about teaching… much less anyone but yourself.”

Deku’s posture slumps. “Kocchan, that’s not very nice-”

“I LOVE SPENDING TIME WITH DEKU.”

Oh fuck me , Bakugou hisses when everyone turns to him. Where did all that bravado go? “Yeah, I fucking love being with this piece of shit, and- and when we spar, he gives really good advice. Of course, it’s nothing that I don’t already know, but some wannabes like you two could use it!”

“Kacchan…” Bakugou’s arm feels stiff and he awkwardly pulls it away to glance at Midoriya in his peripheral.

The nerd is blushing. That’s… good, right? Unless it’s because he’s so embarrassed, then that’s not good at all.

“Yes! Eri, Kocchan, please join us for sparring sometime! It would be great to be able to pass on some of the things we learned to better your training to becoming pro heroes!” Deku throws his fist in the air, “Plus Ultra!”

So it was good.

Eri’s god this big dumb smile on, and if Bakugou were a lesser man, he’d find it infectious and start smiling too.

Instead, he settles on giving a tight-lipped smile in Kota’s direction.

.

.

.

“Dickbag.”

“Cocksucker.” Bakugou regards Kota flippantly. Is it weird he feels the need to establish bad-words-dominance over someone practically half his age?

Katsuki Bakugou is honest and heroic, but he’s also definitely petty. “Fuck you want?”

“Just making sure your neck doesn’t hurt, with it having to support your big head.”

“Thanks for the concern, motherfucker. And what about you? How’s your blood pressure with all that salt?”

The teen raises his hat and runs his free hand through his inky locks, seemingly trying to calm himself. They’ve got similar hair, Bakugou notices, and although he’s a little on the slimmer side, he’s sure Kota has a similar build to when Bakugou was his age too.

The comparison makes him release a disgusted noise.

Kota blinks, unaffected. “You better be treating Izuku good, you hear?”

Hold on a minute, alright?

Now, the real question is: is it weird to cherish the approval of someone practically half his age? That’s the million-dollar query right here, right now.

“Haahh? What this? You giving up?” Please be giving up, I felt like I halved my lifespan having to say such cheesy shit in front of so many extras- in front of Deku.

“As if. I’m never giving up.”

“Well neither am I.”

Kota’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ll be Deku’s second husband after you meet an unfortunate and unforeseeable accident in a few years.”

His blood boils at that at first but-

Oh.

Was that the kind of faith Kota had for him and Deku’s future? Husbands?

The shiver that’s recipro-burst’ing up his spine is alienation, but not wholly unpleasant. Moreover, Kota’s threat sounds less like a threat and more like acquiescence: a victory.

Deku’s in the changing room getting decent. They’re going back to his place and Bakugou’s going to make him spicy curry.

It’s friendship curry. It’s I’m-Sorry curry. And maybe if he plays his cards right, it’ll be Let’s-Try-Something curry.

Chin up, Bakugou remains relentless.

“So be it. I’ll have him keep my ashes next to the bed. Good luck tryna get frisky like that, you cuck.”