Chapter Text
No matter how much the fantastic hero charity auction is hailed as the most fantastic thing to have happened in this current era of heroes, Bakugou can’t find anything fantastic about it. There’s a tonne of things that deserve to be painted with the same golden brush, illuminated to the public eye.
But instead, sellout pandering events like this take centre stage. Quite literally.
It’d be good for your image , they had said when announcing his involvement. It’s an exciting community event any upcoming hero should take part in, they had emphasised when Bakugou had cast his most incredulous unimpressed look towards his PR team.
All in all, Bakugou can’t think of anything he’d want to less on his day off than sucking up to other people and waiting for random strangers to steal away yet even more of his free time.
But here he is, on his day off, standing up on a stage ready to be auctioned off like a fancy piece of furniture or some antique shit. Well, he is kind of a classic in the making, the boot somewhat fits.
On stage, amidst the flashing lights and merciless heat raining down on skin, Bakugou will never admit out loud he is the furthest thing from comfortable. His spotlight isn’t fickle enough to need an actual spotlight, it’s one he can create on his own terms and wherever the hell he wants. His fame is his legacy, the actions he makes in battle. In comparison, the orchestrated nature of this attention is unsettling.
Distracting, even.
He’s not being watched in his element and fighting. In fact, he’s not being watched at all - he’s being observed. This isn’t a sports festival back in high school or a live televised battle.
It’s just a stage.
Bakugou clenches his fists tight, strives to ignore the compulsive twitch to do something anything other than just stand here like a fucking idiot. This is some kind of weird twilight zone, the absence of normalcy is awkward as hell.
Maybe it’s for the best that the crowd is reduced to a jagged silhouette, because whilst he can pick out the hollers of his dumb friends, it’s some consolation he won’t be able to see their stupid faces. If he could, Bakugou would blast them clean off without hesitation. That would give him something interesting to do, at least.
“So - Ground Zero,” Kendo smoothly takes the reigns, having been roped into taking the role as the host for the evening. She plays it well enough. “What do you have to offer our lovely bidders?”
Bakugou clicks his tongue.
He’s had the misfortune of watching the other heroes on auction prattle on and go through this whole ordeal. It’s even more irritating now the unnecessary spotlight is on him.
He remembers writing all of the shit down before the show for the programmes that every fucker in the audience already has at their disposal to read, has probably read a thousand times over by this point.
If they’re not going to even use that information then what’s the point.
Someone besides Bakugou needs to get in the hot-seat. But right now, it’s unfortunately his turn. Despite how unpleasant this is, how much Bakugou wants to march offstage and go home or spend time productively, he doesn’t back down.
To give up would mean defeat. Technically this is a contest, so he’s going to come out on top.
“Everything. Because I’m the best.”
Born with it bitches. The crowd lap up the words, offering a thunderous applause. That might just be because his dumb friends are amongst the bidders too.
“And with that we will start the bidding - over to you Present Mic!”
Before Present Mic even has the chance to get further than a jovial yell several decibels too loud, hands shoot up lightning fast.
No. Literally.
Green sparks crackle around a hand that is unmistakably Deku’s. The sheer enthusiasm behind it is embarrassing. He’s made a made a bid on every single hero so far, figures he wouldn’t let Bakugou live his life and make it so much worse for him to exist.
They’re partners. They see each other everyday.
A cheery smile dances across his lips, like he’s absolved from all heinous crimes committed this evening. And if Bakugou had the power, he would peel it off Deku’s face and smush it beneath his feet. It belongs on the ground, damn it. Symbolically, he does this with a firm stamp accompanied by a feral grin that probably is several shades too dark for what has been described as a community-friendly event.
Ha. That ought to put the nerd off.
It doesn’t, of course.
The bidding veers into the sort of money most people don’t have to throw around casually, but the ones that do enjoy doing exactly that. Deku drops out a few rounds in, genuinely dismayed he’s lost this fight - which is fucking absurd.
It continues to rise at a rapid pace, escalated further when a new mysterious bidder from the back of the room enters the contest. Higher and higher it climbs - his auction now boasting the largest figures of the night which is both gratifying and kind of morbidly horrifying.
Nobody has this kind of cash to slap around, surely.
Okay, yeah, he’s hot shit but seriously - what the fuck.
“Going once!” President Mic roars, voice quaking with anticipation. “Twice. And… wahoo!! Ground Zero goes to number Forty-three!!”
Bidder forty-three in the shadows steps forward into the light. In that moment, the evening officially devolves into a nightmare.
Honestly, Bakugou should have fucking known. He should have guessed that his life would be this ridiculous and stupid. There stands Todoroki Shouto, a small smile etched into the curve of his lips. The bidding sign is clasped in his hands - proudly, of all things.
Their eyes meet, Bakugou levels the best glare he can muster. It’s Very Difficult because he looks obscenely attractive in the dark polo neck jumper, tight pants and trenchcoat.
Todoroki doesn’t have to know that his heart has accelerated to a frantic pace, that his palms are horribly clammy. It’s Bakugou’s pathetic crush to deal with. He’s only harboured it for five years, four months and twelve days and it’s definitely more than a crush at this point but it’s fine.
This is absolutely fine.
It’s fine.
Storming off stage before Kendo can give him an exit speech, Bakugou sifts through the needless applause. He ignores the inappropriate cheers of their immature friends lurking in the corner. It’s not fate or anything as grand or romantic drawing him to Todoroki’s side.
No. It’s something fierce and frantic.
“Hey.” Bakugou does his best to sound less winded than he feels. Fuck that windswept look splaying his hair prettily across his face. “The fuck you playing at?”
Unfazed, Todoroki stops clapping. Why he joined in the first place Bakugou has no idea and he has resigned to accept some things about this bastard he will probably never understand.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable spending time with me than a stranger.”
There’s a gleam in his eye Bakugou wants to pluck out - it’s too mesmeric when it’s supposed to be annoying.
“We are friends after all.”
That tugs at Bakugou’s chest, coaxes a small pitiful noise from him out into the dwindling space between them. Todoroki is not completely wrong, but he’s also way off.
Bakugou pretends not to think about how much money Todoroki has just spent in the name of friendship. The look on Endeavour’s face should be worth it all: pinched and bitter, as if he’s been forced to swallow a thousand lemons in under a minute.
But pissing off his old man wasn’t Todoroki’s motive here.
It’s a real bonus, but explains nothing.
“How considerate of you.”
With a shrug, Todoroki takes a seat at a nearby table. Whoever it’s reserved for, it clearly doesn’t matter anymore. Todoroki is fiercely enigmatic and powerful in a way no person on earth ever should be. That makes him a little intimidating.
Even after all these years, having gained so much, Bakugou sometimes continues to find himself at a perpetual loss.
“Well you know what they say…”
Bakugou doesn’t know. He has no idea, to be honest. He’s almost too afraid to ask. It’s so vague and ambiguous. More, it only raises more questions that detract attention from the ones he yearns to have answered. What kind of shit are you pulling tonight, is this some stupid joke or-
“Just spit it out already.”
Get it together. Bakugou sighs, slumping into the seat opposite the handsome bastard. Fine. Just this once, he’ll play nice.
“What do they say?”
Todoroki looks him dead in the eye and delivers a sentence that would kill most people on the spot. Fortunately, Bakugou is mostly immune at this point and strong as fuck.
“When you have money you should blow it. Money is for blowing.”
That’s objectively the worst thing Bakugou’s ever heard in his life. There’s no way of telling if Todoroki realises how it sounds or if he just doesn’t give a flying shit. That’s what stirs up the churning inferno the most. Unbelievable.
“Nobody says that you fucking idiot!” Bakugou hisses.
“So.” As if nothing has even happened, Todoroki picks up one of the programmes. He’s catastrophically composed. “According to this, you’d prefer the weekend.”
Todoroki looks over the top of the programme, as if perusing a menu at a fancy restaurant. Bakugou hates it and hates even more he’s imagined it.
“Shall we meet Saturday?”
Fuck yeah.
“Tch, whatever.” I’m looking forward to it. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
“Don’t be rude,” Todoroki chides.
Like he’s the angel of manners, the epitome of deference who has commandeered a reserved table without a shred of remorse. Fucking yeah right. The world may be fooled but Bakugou sure isn’t. If Bakugou has a rusty halo, this icyhot fool has none. It’s an illusion fabricated entirely by the people who crawl up his ass and worship him.
That’s what happens when you’re absurdly beautiful.
As if he somehow heard every single word of that, Todoroki quirks an eyebrow.
“If you don’t behave, then I’ll ask for a refund. Imagine being the cause of a charity losing money.”
God.
“Sometimes you’re really fucking awful.”
"Only sometimes? I’ll consider that a compliment, coming from you.”
Todoroki’s lips twitch, a light flutter of what cannot possibly be laughter carrying the words. Much like the rest of Bakugou's friends, he has become immune to the typical jibes and jaunts. Although, generally speaking, Todoroki has always been relatively unfazed by what he has to say.
From the dawn of time, it’s been written this way. Todoroki is one of the only people capable of throwing him off one game and into another one. Like now, for example. The auction is still going, but Todoroki is already heading towards the door.
Without looking back, cooler than being cool or ice cold and not even trying, he bids farewell.
“See you Saturday, Bakugou.”
Talking to the handsome face is one thing but chasing after his back and the shadow it creates is something he’s very much done with. They’re equals. Todoroki just likes pissing him the fuck off as much as possible.
Todoroki, who just splashed out in the charity auction. Todoroki who placed the highest bid on him. Todoroki who is meeting him on Saturday.
“What the fuck just happened?” Bakugou asks out loud because he needs some kind of clarity outside of the chaos swirling in his head.
He’s not looking for someone to answer. It’s fucking rhetorical. But there’s one hero in the room who could sense even the smallest cry for help a thousand miles off so he’s doomed. In his peripheral, Bakugou catches green darting over towards him.
Meddlesome and ominous.
There is no such thing as peace. That’s even more true when dealing with the symbol of it.
Loh and behold, Deku invites himself to sit at the table that belongs to neither of them.
“You know, I really thought I had a chance to win you, Kacchan!! Out of everyone being auctioned I thought this was my best shot. Especially as most people were quite reluctant to bid on you anyway because of your overall presence so the stakes were theoretically supposed to be lower and less-”
Bakugou’s fingers twitch.
“Oi. Say that again.” I dare you.
Raising a hand, nowhere near as placating as it should be, Deku laughs. He back-peddles, badly but he’s not really trying that hard which is outrageous.
“Ah! I mean… your overall presence is fine, I guess? It’s not that you’re not amazing, Kacchan! You absolutely are a really incredible hero! But people can be a little… you know-”
Deku gestures.
“-You know.”
Pause.
Bakugou leans back in his seat, eyes narrowed. It would be entertaining to see the symbol of peace squirm if he actually put his fucking heart and soul into it. Damn nerd isn’t even trying for damage control. They’re at this point now.
“Um, anyway, whose table is this?? Haha?”
Christ. Bakugou averts his gaze far away from the ‘reserved’ placard Todoroki conveniently knocked over and Deku’s squiggly smile riddled with restless energy. Combined it’s just all too much.
This is the loser he’s officially partnered with as a pro-hero, best friend to the other loser he’s pining over.
Pathetic. But at least Bakugou is self-aware, that requires more brain cells than most of his friends have combined. That counts for something.
“Todoroki was really fired up to win, wasn’t he?”
“What are you trying to say?”
Bakugou knows Deku and his keen eye for prying into everything single thing. But he also knows he’s retaliated far too quickly to not be suspicious. In his defence, he’s not in the mood to be talked around in circles.
“Todoroki didn’t want anyone else to have you.”
There’s no excuse for Bakugou’s heart skipping at those words.
“You said it yourself, he just wanted to win.”
Prodding his chin, Deku hums. The smile on his face has withered away, leaving a more thoughtful expression that is always as dangerous as it is insightful. Those emerald eyes sharpen and this means nothing good, nothing good at all.
The truth bomb Deku is going to drop right here and now is not one Bakugou will ever be ready for.
“I think even more, Kacchan, he didn’t want to lose.”
As if he hasn’t uttered a statement staggering enough to shatter Bakugou’s barely standing composure, Deku saunters off back to the crowd to watch the ongoing auction.
Well.
It takes a day before the clown parade find him and being their torment, which is quite an achievement on Bakugou’s part. He’d made his own exit shortly after Todoroki, carefully extracting himself from the inevitable chaos.
But it couldn’t last long.
Their weekly meet-up had been loitering on the corner of his horizon. Now here they are, sat around a table - a round one of all things. Bakugou is the king, obviously, but these guys sure aren’t the dependable noble knights pledging allegiance to him. They’re traitors who have the audacity to talk about him as if he’s not even in the fucking room.
“So. Guys. Do we think Todoroki realises he like-likes Bakugou yet?”
Mina acts innocent, frames the question with so much sweetness it’s sickening. Her eyes sweep everywhere but Bakugou, who at this point almost spits out his drink. Like-like . What the fuck teenage high-school romcom have they entered. She could warn a guy first maybe before spouting such stupid shit.
To think, the night has barely even started.
Sero is the first to jump in and stab Bakugou in the back first. Unlike Mina, he stares Bakugou straight down with absolutely no shame. But it doesn’t matter because somewhere, somehow, someday, Bakugou will make sure the bastard regrets this moment to his core.
“Nah - it’s been years. I doubt it.” Leaning on his hands, Sero tries to act coy but his stupid face is engulfed by his grin. “Almost as much as I doubt Bakugou is ever going to do something about his big crush.”
Bakugou elects to ignore the taunts directed at him, honing in on something very important that he should probably just ignore because it’s a bad avenue to swing down.
“What do you mean years?”
Kirishima scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. The grin on Sero’s face withers, expression now housing what Bakugou never wants to see in his vicinity: sympathy. Joining in this strange moment of ambiguous consolation, Kaminari leans across the table to pat Bakugou’s hands.
Too bewildered to respond, Bakugou lets him. He’d like to go back to the part where they have no qualms fucking with him.
“You poor unfortunate soul.”
“This young grasshopper has so much to learn.”
“We’re witnessing a real slow burn.”
Or not.
Glaring, he cuts them off before they can evolve into their worst and final form. He’s seen it once and never again - Mina hasn’t had her turn to comment yet so it’s good timing.
“I ain’t gonna listen to another word of this fucking stupid shit. Shut the hell up.”
“Yes, of course. Everyone, let’s be respectful and respect Bakugou’s wishes. We should talk about something else. Something that has nothing to do with what we were just talking about.”
Funny. Sero doesn’t sound respectful at all.
“Bakugou, are you ready for your date with Todoroki on Saturday?”
Well - there it is.
Sero waggles his eyebrows and right in tow is Kaminari. Of course.
His friends ask mostly in jest, but even the press seem more interested in the charity auction than his recent triumphs against Villains.
The world is transfixed.
“Man, I’m kind of jealous you know?” Kirishima admits with a sheepish grin.
“If you liked it then you should’ve put a bid on it…”
“Oh, come on. You guys know what I mean!! The whole world wishes they were you right now Bakugou, and to be honest I don’t blame them - it’s Todoroki. ”
Kirishima’s earnest attempt at conversation is washed away.
“Don’t be mad once you see that the king got it…” Kaminari laments, and Bakugou admits in the darkest recesses of his mind that it’s probably the wittiest he has been this entire decade.
Or ever.
“Cos if you liked it then you should’ve put a bid on it.”
Everyone needs to shut the fuck up right about now, especially Sero because he started this weird freestyle karaoke contest.
Unable to resist, Mina punches the air and sucks in a breath. “Oh, oh, o-mrpugh!”
Bakugou feels her singing into his hand, if the shrill screaming can even be called that. Only once certain it will stop, does he remove his hand.
“Anyway,” Kirishima continues as if uninterrupted. “The fact is that Todoroki is so manly and cool, and you won a date with him.”
What.
“Nah. I didn’t win shit." Bakugou refuses to let this blasphemy linger enough in the air to rouse the others. “I was the one on auction, don’t fucking forget it. He’s the lucky bastard who won a date with me.”
Shit. Shit fucking fuck. Like blood in the fucking water. Here come the sharks.
“So… it is a date then?”
“A date with Todoroki.”
“That he won.”
“That he won,” Kaminari confirms.
“I mean date as in the day you morons. We hang out all the time - quit making it into something it’s not.”
Mina nods in understanding, but still looks mischievous.
“Hey that’s true,” Kirishima muses. “You guys have gotten pretty close since graduation.”
There is nothing genuine in his words, it’s leading. Makes sense, the intermittent porcupine had been sensible for too long. The others follow the cue. Sero whistles, it’s an extremely ominous tune.
“I haven’t heard you admit that before Bakugou, wow. Sounds to me like... you’re friends.”
Kaminari bites his lip, shoulders shaking. Fucker thinks this is funny.
“Your friend,” Mina coos.
“Good friend.”
“A really good friend forever and ever.”
Bakugou would like to think he’s not as emotionally constipated as he was in school, but these assholes really do test him.
“Of course we are you dipshits. Just shut up already.”
For a moment, there’s silence. Bakugou has the audacity to believe maybe he’ll finish his meal and his beer in goddamn peace.
“Are we your friends too, Bakugou?”
Sero grins. “Your best friends.”
“Friends forever and ever.”
“Friends.”
Kirishima smiles knowingly, but joins in regardless. “Friends…”
Bakugou hates all of them. But he doesn’t and they know that. He knows that. They know he knows that which makes it so much more tragic. Averting his eyes, he looks down at the floor.
“Yeah. You’re the worst friends of my fucking life.”
For some reason that lifts the spirits of their entire table.
“I’ll drink to that, bro.”
Bakugou rescinds his affection.
They really are the worst.
Saturday approaches fast, and Todoroki grows only more cryptic and elusive about the details of their day together.
‘It’s a surprise’ soon turns into ‘ wait and see’ to finally a more clipped ‘i’ll never talk’ , as if Todoroki is bound to a chair facing a villain in some kind of abandoned warehouse.
It’s stupidly dramatic and Bakugou will avidly insist he was cackling wildly at his phone for another reason if anyone dared question him.
Not that they do, because he had held it in until he was alone.
So, to surmise this shitshow, Bakugou is left at the mercy of his own imagination which admittedly has been running laps around the most fucking ridiculous ideas.
It doesn’t help that his friends have gone from moderate teasing to placing bets on what the activities will be in the group chat.
To further surmise the shitshow aka this date that is no more than simply the date of the year, when Todoroki meets him Saturday morning in the park, Bakugou still has no clue where in the hell they’re going.
He falls into step with Todoroki, regardless. It’s surreal, considering the context.
“Gonna give me something to work with here?”
Unlikely.
“It’s not far from here,” is what Todoroki settles with.
That tells Bakugou nothing.
He is even more lost when they arrive at an alleyway on the outskirts of town. It’s not a part of the city Bakugou can say he knows too well. But Todoroki looks extremely pleased with himself from bringing them out here.
It makes absolutely no sense.
Whatever realm of sanity he’s entered, Bakugou has yet to reach or experience it in his own life. As if sensing Bakugou’s perpetual confusion, Todoroki smiles his prettiest smile and speaks in that delicious low tone no mere mortal should ever possess.
“The stray cats come around this time everyday. I usually feed them but I don’t have anything on me today. They should still be here to say hello. We should wait for them.”
Bakugou nods, wordless. Speechless - a better fit perhaps.
So they wait. In mutual silence. It should be awkward but it’s not. Todoroki is a creature of the quiet in the best of ways. He doesn’t pluck words out of the air, he doesn’t force a situation.
They’re seldom caught alone together these days, but Bakugou finds more often than not whilst being fucking irritated to the moon and back he can also breathe deeper than ever before. Todoroki is content to exist with him, ask for nothing more or nothing less.
It’s what prompts him to speak first, cut through the comfortable haze.
“You come here often?” Bakugou asks, momentarily chiding himself for using the worst line in the fucking book.
But it’s fine, they’re not at a bar and he definitely isn’t trying to pick Todoroki up.
Much.
Fortunately, Todoroki is as unfazed as ever. His reply is smooth and unaffected, undulating through the alleyway.
“If I’m not on patrol, yes.”
Pft. Loser.
“You’re weird,” Bakugou settles for because he’s truly at a loss and it’s the best insult he has available at this moment in time.
It’s also the only way he knows how to express any form of affection but that’s four therapy sessions worth of time to unpack.
“Why did you bring me here?”
It’s no secret Todoroki is fond of cats. But this feels private, treading on something hidden away from the world.
“I guess they remind me a bit of you.”
Wow. Feral stray cats roaming dingy alleyways. Charming.
“Fuck off.”
Todoroki makes no response to reply, eyes fixed on the trashcan ahead of them. A small white cat pokes its head out, and if people could melt Todoroki would probably be doing that right now based on his expression.
It’s the easiest Bakugou has seen him smile. He can’t blame Todoroki for it. Those big blue eyes are striking.
“Angel.”
Bakugou blinks, once again at a loss.
"Excuse you?"
“Her name is Angel,” Todoroki clarifies after another beat of stilted silence between them. “That’s what I call her anyway. She likes the name and responds to it now.”
“Who’s that fucker, then?” Bakugou points to the sandy tabby stalking closer to them. “Heaven?”
“No, Darling.”
Fuck! Bakugou knows. He knows Todoroki is talking about the cat but his heart still leaps in the most pathetic way at the name.
God.
Todoroki should not be allowed to name anything ever again.
“I first met Angel on a warm night in September on my way home from a patrol. She was a lot smaller and wouldn’t even come close to me at the start. She used to hiss whenever I tried to get close, but over time she gradually began to understand I wanted to be friends and let me a bit closer. The day she let me close enough to scratch her ears is one I will never forget, from that day on I knew I had earned her trust.”
Todoroki pauses, only to take a quick breath, showing absolutely no signs of stopping.
“Darling and I had a bond from the beginning but that’s probably because she is a lot bolder than Angel. She came up to me straight away and even let me pet her fur for as long as I wanted. She purrs a lot more than Angel too, but you can tell Angel really enjoys attention by the way she leans into you.”
Bakugou watches as the cats brush against Todoroki’s leg.
“They like my left side.”
He sounds startled by the revelation, even now. That heat can be wonderful and warm and not something made just to burn. It has meaning, more than Bakugou is supposed to understand.
He doesn’t comment. Just watches this rare sight quietly, drinks in the calm atmosphere.
That goes out the window when a small fluffy head nudges his leg and begins bumping into him. No, not bumping. Nuzzling.
He looks over to Todoroki. Shit.
Animals don’t usually try to get close to him, and Bakugou lets them get on with their own shit. This is new territory.
“Uh.”
There must be something a little helpless and lost in his expression that he can’t control, because Todoroki shuffles close enough for their shoulders to touch.
“She really likes you,” Todoroki says in a hushed voice, like whispering a secret. “I’ve never seen Angel that close to someone before.”
“Yeah.” Pause.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. But he does it anyway. Sucking in a breath, Bakugou crouches down to stroke the cat’s ears. There is no way he can this to Todoroki’s face.
“She likes you too. Obviously.”
Todoroki joins him on the ground. As he reaches for Angel’s head, their hands brush past each other.
“Obviously.”
Oh dear.
Bakugou is in so much trouble.
The warm fuzzy sensation threatening to take Bakugou over and hold him hostage is solely from the cats - it’s a cool story but one that unfortunately lacks any credibility.
“You can’t plan dates for shit,” Bakugou remarks because really, he can’t help it. He’s on the verge of an existential crisis right here and now.
It’s not a date. They both know this.
He should not have said that.
“Have you ever even been on one?”
Or that. Fuck.
“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Todoroki replies, far too calmly.
And yes. Bakugou would actually really like to know. Now that can of worms has been opened he can’t stop fucking thinking about it. The fact this part of Todoroki’s life is even more of a mystery bothers him.
“Does this quality for a date?”
Bakugou is so glad he’s a few steps ahead, because there is absolutely no way to prevent the rush of heat to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. For god’s sake.
“No way. It’s total garbage.”
Despite that, this is the most relaxed he's been in a while.
“Like hell would I date you.”
Bakugou wants nothing more than to date this gorgeous disaster human.
The day is almost over, final dregs of sunlight lazily strewn across the sky.
“Where we going now anyway?”
“My apartment,” Todoroki says over his shoulder.
A surge of curiosity swells in Bakugou’s chest, curbed only by the lingering dread in churning in his stomach.
They work together frequently, they go to the same social events, they drink at the same bar with the same group. They’re friends.
But this, this is all new.
It’s simultaneously a surprise and not a surprise at all that Todoroki’s apartment is pretty darn close to Deku. In fact, a mere two streets away.
It’s every reason to be on guard and expect an impromptu tagteam. Together, the pair of them are a fucking menace.
“He’s out somewhere right now,” Todoroki sounds amused which is indication Bakugou has been caught in the headlights.
That aside, the words pique Bakugou’s interest. He knows the nerd’s schedule almost as well as Deku does. Saturday isn’t ringing any bells for anything in particular - but maybe that’s just because Bakugou has been so preoccupied with the auction.
With this date that isn’t a date.
“Where?” he ventures, mostly to shake the ridiculous thought plaguing him the fuck out his system.
Todoroki unlocks the door, stepping inside.
“Somewhere,” is all he offers enigmatically.
He knows exactly where Deku is.
With a shrug, these idiots can do what they want, Bakugou steps into the hallway. He only has to take a few steps forwards into the next doorway for the pitiful penny to drop.
God damn it.
Just looking at the stacks of paper on the table, the books not on the bookshelf, the lack of coasters, the sagging cushions, the clear inability to work a hoover…
It’s not a complete disaster, but it’s also nowhere near the standard of tidy Bakugou finds acceptable.
“You live like this?”
Todoroki hums, absently.
“It needs cleaning,” he gestures to his living room in a sweeping motion. “I've heard you’re good at that.”
What the fuck.
All Bakugou can do is stare blankly at the room, at the clutter his fingers are already itching to sort out. It takes a moment for it to click: the bastard is actually being serious.
“You gonna help or what?” Bakugou hisses, pulling the hoover out from the cupboard he suspected it would be hiding ashamed in.
“No. Don’t forget this is all for charity.”
Bold, brazen, blunt,
And then, continuing the path of brutal honesty, Todoroki flops down on the couch.
“I’m actually quite sleepy now. Sometimes you’re hard to deal with.”
On instinct, Bakugou nudges Todoroki’s legs enough for him to jolt back into a straighter posture. His eyes sharpen, a pout on his stupid pretty face. It’s a grim reminder that a sleepy Todoroki is not one to be meddled with and best left to his own devices.
Still, Bakugou isn’t having it. He may have been up for a charity auction, he may have also boasted in his bio that he could smash any kind of work or chores into oblivion and beyond.
But that’s besides the point.
“I ain’t doing this unless you help me, you lazy fuck.”
Ten minutes later, Bakugou very much regrets that decision. After witnessing Todoroki almost strangle himself with the hoover, make even more of a mess with the bookshelf, he genuinely questions how Todoroki is even still alive. His absolute lack of skill in housekeeping is abysmal.
Bakugou does the only thing he can possibly do in this situation. He orders Todoroki back to the couch, to stay right there and not get in his way.
Moments later, when Bakugou glances over his shoulder to tell the idiot he can start helping again so long as he follows his instructions, he finds Todoroki fast asleep.
Unbelievable.
Two whole hours pass before Todoroki comes back to the world of the living, startled awake by Bakugou’s loud exclamations at the ridiculous kitchen appliances Todoroki clearly bought for display rather than use.
“Do you have to be so loud?” he grumbles from the couch and fuck if this isn’t domestic as hell.
Bakugou doesn’t think he’s ever heard Todoroki sound so unhinged in his life.
He likes it.
Pointedly looking anywhere but at the sleep-addled Todoroki and his dishevelled hair, Bakugou clears his throat. God. It’s too much.
“Do you have to be so incompetent?” He counters instead.
It’s met with a small indignant huff that Bakugou will deny to grave he finds endearing. Good thing he doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it.
“You’re cooking,” observes Todoroki, sprawled across the top of the couch to get a better look into the kitchen.
When Bakugou had opened the fridge to discover it completely empty besides a few cartons of strawberry milk, he had felt scorned. Personally attacked, even.
Something had to be done about it.
“Yeah. Nice observation skills, genius.”
“My observation skills are second to none as is my ability to rationalise - Aizawa said so himself many times before we graduated.”
Todoroki speaks in his best monotone, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that indicates a mischief that seldom surfaces so openly.
“Rationalise this!” Bakugou barks, chopping a carrot with more force than necessary. Enough to send it flying.
Todoroki blinks, a small sound escaping his lips that is suspiciously close to a breathless laugh.
Fuck.
He’s so, so pretty this way.
“Where did the food come from?”
“Not your stupid apartment, that’s for sure. Do you even eat?”
The question goes ignored. Todoroki moves from the couch to amble closer. He peers into the bags on the table, far too interested in it.
Like he's never seen vegetables in his own kitchen before, like it seemed impossible for them to exist there.
Bakugou doesn’t dare ask.
“You brought me groceries.”
“Don’t get any dumb ideas about this. You blew your money on today so it’s the least I could do.”
Under strict supervision, Todoroki assists in preparing the food and even does the dishes to an adequate standard.
It’s the best worst not-a-date-date-for-a-charity-auction Bakugou has ever had.
The following morning, the streets are quiet, and Bakugou cannot believe his fucking bad luck. There’s not a single villain causing trouble, nobody he can fight and forcefully shove the stupid thoughts out of his body. His own mind is not the only enemy, however.
Deku has decided that they can have a conversation whilst patrolling remains uneventful. And it’s no surprise that the subject swings right back to the weekend.
Or more specifically, the auction bid.
Despite probably knowing every single minute detail, because there’s no way Todoroki hasn’t told him, Deku brings it up as if completely oblivious and unaware.
Just to spite them both, Bakugou gives clipped and concise answers that give a small snapshot of the day. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Wow. He took you to see the cats?!!” Deku sounds extremely excited about that, way more than he should be.
With a weak nod, Bakugou averts his gaze. He barely said a thing but he's said too much, apparently.
“Ahh,” Deku’s eyes are sprinkled with stars, smile growing wider by the second. “They’re so cute I can’t believe he showed you. He always talks about Zaru and Tofu all the time but I’ve never seen them, mostly because we’re often working in different parts of the city and I know they’re extremely shy so I worry maybe that-”
Hold the fucking phone.
The world tilts on its axis, everything trickling down to this one moment of realisation paired with mass hysteria.
“That’s not their names.”
Deku stops mid-rant, head tilted in confusion. “Hm?”
The reaction sends a sharp twist of icy dread jolting through Bakugou. He already knows where this is going but because he needs to claw onto the final shreds of composure, he holds his ground.
Hitching a breath, Bakugou tries again.
“That’s not their names.”
Curious, Deku leans forwards. His voice is quiet, doing his best to coax this terrible truth out into the open.
“What… what do you think their names are, Kacchan?”
Bakugou has the most visceral flashback to the alleyway, to the way Todoroki had caught him off-guard when he opened his mouth and said-
“Motherfucker.”