Work Text:
He doesn’t care who Deku hangs out with: not one bit. Or rather, he shouldn’tcare… but he can’t help it when that does damn nerd is friendly to everyone. He smiles and hugs and is generally pleasant all the time, which drives Bakugou insane. He used to order Deku to keep his distance, but now—even if he hates to admit it—he wants that bastard’s eyes to be on only him.
Of course, he can’t tell him that. He’s built up a wall between them, and to break it down over petty jealousy would be humiliating. He needs to deal with this in another way, but that’s impossible when the gap between them is so wide. Deku doesn’t hate him, but he’ll never approach him on his own.
Bakugou doesn’t hate him, either. He used to think he did, but it’s painfully obvious that he doesn’t—that he never did. But what is he supposed to do now, after pushing him away for so long? He wants to do so many things, but isn’t sure how or where to start. It’s a matter of ignoring his own selfish pride at this point.
Luckily, it becomes easier to act when he’s struck with jealousy—which is often. To make matters even worse, it’s almost too easy to catch Deku off guard. Bakugou feels like a wolf waiting to pounce, constantly watching him with unease brewing in the pit of his stomach. He’ll do something, he tells himself. He’ll eventually act.
As expected, Bakugou catches him alone—sooner than he’s prepared for. It’s been raining all day, and class is letting out early to ensure that everyone gets home safely. They’re the last two out of the classroom, so it’s easy to grab Deku by the collar and pull him into an empty supply closet.
“Kacchan, what’s—“
Bakugou kisses him before he can utter another syllable. Shit. He didn’t mean to do it, but it’s still happening. This isn’t how one is supposed to confess, but his brain is running on jealousy and greed and very little common sense right now—and fuck, it’s absolutely exhilarating.
“Stop it,” Deku gasps, pushing him back with both arms to catch his breath. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, turning his head away stubbornly. “What— what do you think you’re doing?”
He’s actually crying. Fuck. This isn’t how this is supposed to happen at all. Bakugou can’t deal with him when he’s crying. “Shit, I didn’t mean to— Hey, don’t cry.”
“What are you trying to do?” Deku sniffs, wiping away the overflowing tears. “First you yell at and ignore me and… and now this? I don’t understand you at all. What’s wrong with you? Do you hate me?”
“No,” Bakugou says instantly. “No. Jesus, stop crying. I don’t hate you.”
“But you must hate me,” Deku chokes out, breaking into another round of ugly, hiccuping sobs. “You’re… you’re just messing with me. You’re making me think you hate me and then like me and just… just… what do you want from me?” he demands, eyes brimming with desperation. “I can’t understand if you don’t tell me.”
Bakugou’s hand slams against the wall beside his head, but he isn’t angry at him. He’s frustrated about being such a weakling: about being too afraid to take what he wants. What does he want from Deku? It’s simple: he wants everything. He wants to take everything from him until there’s nothing left for anybody else.
“I can’t explain it,” he mutters, letting his forehead drop against Deku’s shoulder. “I don’t… hate you. I can’t stop looking at you. There’s this horrible greed that I can’t stop feeling whenever I look at you.” His fingers clench against the fabric of Deku’s shirt, right over his heart. “I can’t hate you, no matter how much I want to.”
“Then don’t hate me anymore,” he whispers. His arms wrap around Bakugou’s chest, squeezing him in an almost pleading way. It’s too hot when they’re this close, but it’s impossible to pull away. “Don’t hate me, Katsuki.”
He comes undone after that. It’s been forever since he‘s called him by his first name, and the way he whispers it so softly is utterly destructive. It shatters Bakugou’s remaining self-restraint and he kisses him furiously, possessively. He whispers Deku’s first name against his lips a dozen times.
‘Izuku,’ he says over and over again, until it loses all meaning. ‘Izuku, Izuku, Izuku, Izuku…’
It feels relieving to say it. To Bakugou, it almost feels like coming home.