Archive of Our Own

Antique stores have always been a place of wonder for Todoroki. They are somewhere otherworldly, an intricate labyrinth of memories and history that has withstood the test of time. 

The things collecting dust on shelves have tales to tell just as vivid and interesting as books. More so, even one could argue. You just have to know where to look and how to read them. 

In many respects, these are the libraries of the human soul. Stories upon stories, lives upon lives, compounded and categorised inside all kinds of items that would eclipse the earth if able to speak. 

Some will get to share their secrets, continue their journeys in witnessing the trials of humanity; failure and flight, mediocrity and monotony. 

The soaring exhilaration of love, the jarring sound a heart makes when it splinters, a scream in the darkness-

The quiet loneliness of survival that aches for more. 

Others are fated to remain on a shelf, consigned to ebbing out of fashion and significance. Not by their own design, by something as changeable as people. 

Todoroki finds the poignancy rather beautiful.  

One For All, tucked into the corner of the bustling city street, encompasses all of this. Run by Tashinori Yagi and his enthusiastic assistant Midoriya Izuku, it never lacks charm or sincerity.

Every trip is worthwhile, even if Todoroki leaves with nothing. Midoriya spends most days of the week behind the counter. 

So really, furnishing his new apartment and seeing his best friend at the same time is a no brainer to Todoroki. The bell above the door signals his arrival as he steps inside. He’s greeted to a typical, endearing sight. 

Midoriya is animatedly talking the ears off a customer who is clearly grappling between politely listening and figuring out how to leave the store. 

Todoroki chooses not to intervene. 

From experience, Todoroki knows that if he has any chance of finding things to take home then he needs to focus first. 

The lamp catches his eye the moment it comes into view. 

It’s unashamedly bold, for starters. Black with an orange cross etched into the side of the body, almost like a signature mark. Todoroki can’t think of a single name that matches this explosive style. 

The lampshade is just as striking - continuing the fluorescent orange theme. At two feet high, the lamp would add some variation and well needed character to the table in his living room.

Todoroki lifts it by the slim body, momentarily surprised at the weight. It’s not particularly heavy. The green chord dangles off the shelf, tangling around his feet. 

Overall, the lamp has clearly seen better days. He wonders what story this piece has to tell. 

That is more than enough incentive. 

“Midoriya, is this new? I don’t remember seeing it around before.” 

When he sets the lamp down at the counter, Midoriya is reduced to staring. 

That’s not unusual, because Midoriya often likes to examine what Todoroki has purchased and offer whatever extensive knowledge he has on the object. What is unusual, however, is the way Midoriya snaps back into motion without sharing any of it. 

“Oh…!! Kac- it’s been here a while but it’s usually,um, in the back room. Things get a little noisy sometimes hahaha.” 

Strange. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“Um. You know… because of the airport.” 

Stranger and stranger. 

“There is no airport in the vicinity, Midoriya.” 

“A-ah…that’s true,” the strangled response leaves Midoriya’s mouth, albeit reluctantly if his gawking expression is anything to go by. 

He takes a breath, and out the words tumble.  

“Are you sure about this one, Todoroki-kun? Really? I just- it doesn’t really seem like the right fit for you. There are lots of other lamps here to choose from - don’t you think?! I mean-!! Maybe you should take another look before deciding.” 

Midoriya gestures wildly, arm almost knocking the lamp off the counter. He dashes off in a chaotic whirlwind. Todoroki braces the fall of the lamp smoothly. 

The metal is hotter to the touch than it was before, but there are bigger things to be concerned with right now. 

Like the increasing probability that Midoriya Izuku could trip to his death over one of the many lamps he is now carrying over. Todoroki watches in bemusement as Midoriya sets them onto the counter. 

None of them are remotely in the same league as the chosen one.  

“Sorry, Midoriya.” Todoroki pushes the lamp forwards, for emphasis. “I want this one.” 

At that, Midoriya shuffles back behind the counter. The nervous laugh bubbling past his lips has Todoroki curious once more. 

Something about this lamp has Midoriya a little... unhinged. 

“Anything I should know?” 

Reaching for his glasses, Midoriya leans forwards to examine the lamp one final time. The muttering is indecipherable to Todoroki, but he enjoys the hushed swell of sound regardless. 

Behind those emerald eyes hang a peculiar mix of exasperation and amusement that Todoroki cannot revel in because ultimately he does not understand the source of it.

Sometimes, his friend is so whimsical and eccentric he could be crafted entirely from a storybook. 

Midoriya hums, pushing the frame of his glasses up to sit better on his nose. His eyes flit between Todoroki and the lamp with such speed it’s almost dizzying to watch. 

“It seems kind of angry, doesn’t it?” 

Todoroki shrugs. 

“Looks aren’t everything.” 

The metal of the plug presses against Todoroki’s hand. It’s odd because he doesn’t remember it being there. But there are a lot of lamps on the table and Midoriya is moving so erratically just about anything could be swept into his orbit. 

“R-right!!” 

Midoriya nods his head with so much vigour it might just fall off. The smile on his face is trembling, caught in a chasm of laughter and despair. 

“So Todoroki-kun, you’re really going through with this?” 

The question almost throws Todoroki off. Mostly because it’s far too weighted. 

“I’m happy to take it off your hands.” 

“Okay. But if you change your mind, you can bring him back anytime!” 

Todoroki doesn’t dwell on Midoriya’s words. It’s not uncommon to attach personality and identity to objects, given his profession. Not to mention, he’s caught Midoriya talking to things here numerous times. 

Calling it out would be unnecessary at this stage. 

“Good luck with everything, Todoroki-kun.” 

For some reason, Todoroki gets the distinct impression Midoriya is talking about something other than the apartment. 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

THROWING SOME SHADE 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

As expected, the lamp is a nice fit in the living room. There’s an intensity behind the orange glow it provides, one Todoroki can appreciate. 

Like a fire crackling in the corner of an otherwise bland room.

It’s a promising start to furnishing the apartment. Cardboard boxes dotted around the apartment serve as a constant reminder - that this place is his own. How long it takes to fill this space, to belong in here, he isn’t sure.

For now, Todoroki is settles into a warm cup of herbal tea and a book on the couch. This is when things start to get strange. 

Really strange. 

“What a fucking mess.” 

Looking up from the book, Todoroki glances around. Part of him rationalises that maybe he just has noisy neighbours. The other part of him knows better. Voices don’t carry that well through the walls. 

“Still stuck in cardboard boxes? Fucking disgusting! Have some god damn standards.” 

Todoroki puts the book down again, more than a little irritated by the interruption. A crass one, at that. 

“Do you mind? I’m trying to read,” he manages, aware that there are more pressing issues than his book at this point. 

“And I’m trying to breathe. Would it kill you to clean?” 

“I just moved in,” Todoroki responds defensively because he has every right to be. 

It doesn’t deter his newfound critic in the slightest. 

“Yikes. What the hell are those curtains? Looks like someone took a dump on them. This place is fucking tragic.”  

Honestly, Todoroki just wants to read his book in peace. How that can be too much to ask for in his own home is beyond him. Steeling himself, he takes a breath and stands in the centre of the room.

Todoroki is left with no choice. He takes a breath, and delivers the words with confidence.  

“Be gone, spirit.” 

Silence follows, a kind so prevalent that Todoroki thinks this might just have worked. Maybe it's over and everything is fine. Maybe it's always been fine. 

The illusion of peace shatters when the voice cackles. It’s not malicious, even if an unpleasant, grating sound to the ears. 

At least Todoroki isn’t dealing with something inherently evil. 

“W-What the fuck was that?! Nice try, but that ain’t gonna work on me. You’re the idiot who brought home a cursed object.” 

Oh. Oh. 

Todoroki locks eyes with the lamp on the table. Somehow, it looks rather smug. 

Maybe this is what Midoriya meant, when he wished him luck earlier. 

He takes two steps towards the table, keeping a measured distance. One can never be too careful. Just in case, Todoroki holds the book in front of himself. 

“Yeah. Listen. The only thing that book is gonna do is bore us both to death.”

Todoroki frowns, staring down at the tattered cover. 

“But it’s off to a good start.”

It’s true. 

“Your taste is fucking abysmal. Get some culture - that sure ain’t it.” 

Todoroki puts the book down, eyeing the lamp warily. He’s talking to a lamp. The lamp is talking back. 

They’ve had a whole conversation at this point. 

“Are you sentient?”

A surge of electricity pours into the lamp, plunging the apartment into darkness. 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

DE-LIGHTED TO MEET YOU 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

“Tch. I can’t believe you’re still going with that series,” a familiar voice grunts from the lamp, causing the table to shake at the low vibrations. “It’s complete and utter shit. How the hell are you only on book two?”  

Todoroki keeps his eyes on the book, focus drawn entirely elsewhere. It’s difficult to keep the twitch of lips growing into something that might just give him away. 

The lamp - or rather, the supernatural being attached to it - goes by the name Bakugou Katsuki. Throughout the past week, Todoroki has discovered many things. 

For instance, Bakugou can be quick to blow his fuse. The number of power outages is testament to that. He’s honest to a fault, which Todoroki appreciates, and cares very little for smalltalk. Todoroki also appreciates that. Having to talk to someone about the weather in his own apartment would be a very cruel twist of fate. 

Amongst all of this, Bakugou gets great satisfaction from telling Todoroki how bad his tastes are. Todoroki could sit in another room, leave Bakugou to his own devices. But he never does.

“Well, maybe I would have been able to finish reading sooner if something else wasn’t constantly vying for my attention.” 

Despite pretences, Todoroki is beginning to enjoy Bakugou’s company. Far more than he ever expected. It’s not a bad thing. 

The lampshade moves, reminiscent of someone shaking their head. 

“Look. You clearly ain’t gonna figure this out yourself so here’s a clue,” the bulb in the lamp flickers, and Todoroki gets the sense that Bakugou just might be teasing him about something. 

“Rub the lamp.”

Todoroki looks over, startled. 

“You want me to… rub you?” 

The lamp shakes the table enough for Todoroki’s glass of water to crash to the floor. With a sigh, Todoroki picks up the glass. 

It’s a reminder to stop putting things on Bakugou’s table. 

“I’m trapped in the lamp, I’m not actually the lamp you fucking idiot!!” 

That makes a lot more sense than a sentient lamp yelling expletives at him in his living room. Todoroki can agree with that much. 

“Just do it. Then we won’t ever speak of this shit again.” 

As instructed, Todoroki rubs the lamp. Immediately, things unfold that are definitely not considered normal. Silver smoke pours out from the bottom of the body. Soon after, the lights in the room flicker. In any other circumstance this would probably be ominous. 

But Bakugou isn’t ominous, even if he really wants to be. 

Then it happens. Beside Todoroki, a person materialises. 

His clothes mirror the colour scheme of the lamp: a black tank top with an orange X clinging to his skin paired with baggy pants. The leather boots are excessive and chunky - but they make no noise as he invades Todoroki’s personal space. 

No preamble, no warning. Crimson eyes lock onto Todoroki, a relentless force of nature in their own right. There is no leeway to look anywhere else. But that’s fine - Todoroki finds he doesn’t want to. 

Close up, Bakugou is the epitome of sharpness. So much so that he hardly seems real at all.

His lips are curled, eyebrows creasing his face in all the wrong places. He could be beautiful, if he really wanted to. Instead, he actively chooses this rather ridiculous demeanour that somehow is equally as compelling. 

Todoroki looks between the man in his living room, and the lamp he had to rub to coax him out. 

It comes together, then. 

“You’re a genie.” 

Bakugou clicks his tongue, sculpted arms folding. Todoroki absolutely does not watch the muscles ripple. He does not. 

“Don’t go getting any dumb ideas. People come up with all kinds of self-serving buillshit to make themselves feel high and mighty. But you have no power over me. You’re not my master and wishes sure as hell aren’t guaranteed. Got it?” 

Todoroki is far more distracted than he wants to be. It doesn’t help that Bakugou is still in his proximity, their faces mere inches apart. 

A smarter person wouldn’t linger here. 

“Oi.” Bakugou flicks the top of Todoroki’s head with a finger. “Got it?” 

He’s ready to fight about this, hackles raised. Todoroki brushes past the genie, finally finding his breath and his footing.

“Sure. I’m not particularly interested in anything like that.”

To be honest, he already got more than he bargained for by purchasing the lamp alone.  

Bakugou snaps his fingers, and in an instant cleaning supplies that Todoroki has barely used scatter across the floor. There’s even a vacuum, which is intriguing because Todoroki doesn’t recall owning this particular model. 

Tossing the mop in Todoroki’s direction, Bakugou points to the floor. 

The image of a man dressed like a punk-rock superhero dishing out chores whilst grabbing a feather duster is so jarring. 

As if sensing the confusion plaguing Todoroki, Bakugou throws a glance over his shoulder. His eyes remain deliciously fierce, fires burning in them. 

“Get to it, this place is a dump.”

Todoroki resignedly dips the mop into the bucket. Strange, for a genie to be the one making all the demands. As he starts the task assigned to him, a thought crosses his mind. 

“Bakugou - if you can make all this magically appear, can’t you make the dust disappear too?” 

“I ain’t gonna make things that easy for you. Just be grateful I’m even helping you with this.”  

Todoroki looks over to his book, mourning the unread pages. Undoubtedly, it will be a while before he gets the chance to finish the story. 

Maybe another is already starting, outside the pages and much closer. 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

SHEDDING LIGHT ON 

THE SITUATION 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

Being trapped in a lamp for hundreds of years is decidedly Not-The-Fucking-One. When a handsome stranger with the most tragic taste in the world frees him from this hell that is an antique store, Bakugou almost lets himself feel the relief. 

Almost. 

But Todoroki Shouto is a walking disaster, the most beautiful hot mess Bakugou has ever seen. Honestly, this kind of shit should be illegal. 

The more Bakugou observes, the less he understands how somebody so clueless has made it this far in life. 

They fall into each other’s orbit with so much ease it should have alarm bells ringing. But Bakugou is a genie. There’s not much in the universe that can faze him - as much as it may try.

This tenderness prying open his ribs and clawing at his heart, well. Fuck. 

That just might. 

Because it belongs to something bigger than the both of them.

He’s in the midst of hiding the bestseller Todoroki refuses to accept is trash when the bastard waltzes in and ruins everything. 

Hovering in the doorway, deliberately out of reach because he has a shitty sense of humour, Todoroki offers a small smile. 

“You’ve used that spot before.” 

Defeated by so many things, Bakugou takes the book out of the fireplace and throws it his way. 

He cannot be blamed for trying to burn it. 

Catching the book with smoothness reserved only for handsome protagonists in romantic movies Bakugou wants not part of, Todoroki quirks a brow. 

There’s a gleam skating in those pretty eyes that is too close to amusement to ignore. Bakugou doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s so far gone for this bastard. 

“I had an idea,” Todoroki finally announces, elation blooming over his face. 

He steps aside, revealing the suitcase behind him. Bakugou eyes the item with disgust. 

“So you’re going on vacation. Good for you.” 

At least one of us can go wherever the hell they want. 

“No, no. Bakugou. That’s not it.” 

Todoroki shakes his head, light dancing in his eyes. It throws Bakugou off course, further into this strange hopeful feeling he should not be indulging. 

It makes his heart so weightless. They’re well beyond butterflies at this point. 

“The lamp won’t fit in a backpack, it’s too big. But do you think this will work?” 

Glancing between the lamp and the suitcase, realisation hits Bakugou. 

He stamps out the fierce swell of affection bruising his bones, tries hard to ignore the fact that Todoroki really wants to make this work for him without ulterior motives or misguided intentions. 

Todoroki did this just because he could, because he wanted to. 

They get the lamp inside with surprising ease. For a moment, all Bakugou can do is stare down at the suitcase. Maybe it’s stupid, how much the meaning behind all of this affects him. 

Todoroki picks up the suitcase, nudging Bakugou in the side playfully as he heads to the hallway. 

For the first time since his arrival, Bakugou can follow. 

He steps out the doorway, out of the room he’s spent all his time in, to find his suspicions confirmed. 

The rest of the apartment is a goddamn mess without his meticulous eye and it’s fucking amazing. That he gets to see it. That he can confirm it for himself. 

Bakugou chokes on the crazed laughter caught in his throat. 

“Oi. What the fuck…”

Stood by the front door, Todoroki waits. His eyes are purposefully cast elsewhere, as if acutely aware of the gravity this moment holds for Bakugou. 

“Care to do the honours?” he asks. 

Fuck yes. Bakugou grins in disbelief as he opens the door and steps outside. Onto the street. Outside.

There are no walls surrounding him. 

He can’t help but be excited as hell about this. 

In all his years, he’s never felt this free. All of him pulsates with a restlessness that could take centuries to sate. The horizon is suddenly closer, what is unreachable might just be within grasp and-

“Where to?” Todoroki asks, the most enchanting smile gracing his face. 

The sunlight catches his eyes, bathes his skin in a soft glow. It’s much better than the artificial light of the lamps. He’s so fucking gorgeous it’s devastating. 

Anywhere. Fuck. I’d go anywhere with you- 

“Somewhere awesome. Blow my mind.”

Todoroki hums thoughtfully, lips twitching. 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

CAREFUL WATT YOU

WISH FOR 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

“You can’t be serious.” 

The annoyance simmering under his skin is outweighed by fondness. And that pisses Bakugou off even more, feeding this cataclysmic cycle only Todoroki has coaxed into existence. Sentiment does that, apparently. 

It’s just unacceptable. 

Todoroki throws a pack of noodles into the shopping trolley, pushing it forwards at a leisurely stroll. He seems to have forgotten that alongside the damn suitcase, they will have to carry all this shit back home. 

Like hell is Bakugou using any of his powers to lessen the load.  

“I was running out of food.” 

Peering into the trolley, Bakugou recoils in disgust. Any normal person would. Obviously, most of this is going back on the shelf. Even though he doesn’t need food, he will be the responsible one about this if Todoroki won’t. 

“Fuck. It’s a wonder you’re still alive, your diet is complete shit. Ever heard of fresh vegetables?” 

“Of course. I could name a few examples, if you’d like.”  

Bakugou rolls his eyes. 

What he’d really like is for Todoroki to stop doing stupid shit to his heart on a daily basis. He’d really like for him to take the initiative to clean unprompted, eat a balanced meal, get a better sense of humour. 

Bakugou only laughs because someone has to. That’s all. 

“Would it kill you to quit being a smartass?” 

Todoroki, right on cue, is quick to level each and every one of Bakugou’s remarks. 

“I’m not prepared to take the risk.” 

Unbelievable. 

Just when Bakugou is foolish enough to think he’s probably at the threshold of how ridiculous a day can be, something awful happens. 

As they head down the next aisle, a pair of wide green look up from the shelf to pin Bakugou in his place. 

No fucking way. 

“Oh my -! I can’t believe it. It can’t be that’s impossible but it is I know it, I just know it. It has to be, it-”  

Scurrying forwards, the damn nerd gasps. 

“You let Kacchan out the lamp?!!” he squeaks, eyes wide and frantic. 

“Relax, Midoriya.” Todoroki looks over to Bakugou. “If he was a demon I would know by now. He’s not evil, he’s just a little unrefined.” 

Bakugou resents this. 

He’s the classiest fucker in the whole supermarket right now. Possibly ever. Case in point being Deku is wearing fluorescent board shorts and Todoroki seems to think navy turtlenecks are the answer to everything. 

Centuries of fashion, years and years of inspiration to draw from, they’re both just disappointing. 

It doesn’t matter that Todoroki looks criminally good, that’s beside the point here. The point here is that he is not going to stand here and be roasted by these disasters. 

“I’m a genie, you moron.” 

“Not a very good one,” Todoroki quips and it’s stupid how close he is to sulking in public. “You won’t answer any of my wishes…”

Bakugou takes a breath. How many times does he need to go over this shit. 

“I ain’t giving you a lifetime supply of soba. That’s not healthy, idiot.” 

“But it would make me happy.” 

Bakugou bristles, arms folded as he pointedly looks in any direction but Todoroki. He’ll lose his shit if he does, and not in the way anybody is going to expect. There’s no way he can let that happen. 

“I don’t give a shit.” 

He does. Bakugou really fucking cares and that’s the problem. 

Unfortunately, his eyes land on the damn nerd from the antique store. The knowing quiet look Deku sends his way is unappreciated and unwarranted. 

Todoroki shrugs, as if he also knows something he shouldn’t. 

But before Bakugou can tell them both to shut the hell up, Todoroki wanders further down the aisle. He leaves the suitcase by Bakugou’s side. 

It’s the worst kind of taunt. 

From a distance, Bakugou can only watch him fail to be sneaky. It’s too much, really. In the best fucking way. 

“Hm. I’m glad it’s you, Kacchan.” 

Bakugou looks over to Deku, who is smiling with such sincerity at his friend continuing to shovel canned goods into the trolley with the dexterity of an agent on their most important mission. 

The pensive look cast in Bakugou’s direction should be a warning. Deku can be considerate but he’s also calculating. It’s a dangerous combination. 

“Is there anything you would wish for?” 

God damn this freckled nerd and his ability to read the room in a way that becomes his greatest weapon. Just because he sees too much doesn’t mean he gets to probe it. 

That’s just fucking rude. 

Gathering the final shreds of composure, Bakugou sucks in a hitched breath. 

“Wishes are for losers. If you want something to happen, make it happen yourself.” 

With that, putting his words into action, he marches forwards to chastise Todoroki for the contents of the trolley. 

Or at least he tries to. But he can hardly make it close enough to the handsome bastard. 

For god’s sake. 

Unfortunately, the lamp isn’t something he can move on his own. Of course, Deku seems to know this. Picking up the suitcase, he beams. 

“Come on, Kacchan.” 

Bakugou considers it a small victory that Todoroki doesn’t invite Deku round for dinner. 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

SOONER OR LIGHTER 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

Turns out, lugging a suitcase around is not met with too much suspicion in the right places. Not that Todoroki gives a flying shit about what people think of him. 

Bakugou respects the hell out of that about him. He respects a lot of things about Todoroki, actually. But that’s besides the fucking point. From walks along the river, to quirky little cafes and larger established chains, even trips to visit One For All - nowhere has been off-limits. 

In the same way, no outing has quite felt like an actual date. 

Until now, that is. 

They’re at the movies, tickets brought and a bag of popcorn too fucking large to comprehend in resting Bakugou’s arms. Salted not sweet, bitch. 

Behind Todoroki, the suitcase trails with more noise than desired.

One of the wheels is a little squeaky, another close to falling off. Considering the amount of places they’ve been and how far it’s had to go carrying the lamp, it’s pretty impressive. 

Still, Bakugou could do without the attention the shrill noise garners. 

Todoroki didn’t call it a date, but the way he invited Bakugou out had been different. Almost polite, which is really fucking something. 

Now they’re here, hands brushing occasionally and eyes magnetised, Bakugou is sure this is different. There’s a charged quiet lingering between them, that is as electric as it is horrifying. 

“This better be worth it,” Bakugou says for lack of better things to say. 

“It will be.” 

Bakugou knows that tone far too well. Before he can even begin to unpack that - is the bastard flirting with me? - they’re interrupted at the door to the screen. 

“Uh…like what’s in the case, Sherlock?” 

The steward taps her pouting lips, eyes fixed on the glaring anomaly. 

This is it, Bakugou realises. This is as far pretending to be human can take him. 

Fuck. 

Going to the movies with this handsome idiot is something he didn’t realise he desperately wanted to do until the possibly he can’t slaps him in the face. 

Yeah. Life can be a real bitch. 

Maybe they can just watch a movie at home. Bakugou is halfway there to begrudging acceptance of this cruel twist of fate when Todoroki speaks. 

“Snacks.” 

And then, Todoroki does something ridiculous. He leans down to open the suitcase and reveal the contents. Inside is a mountain of potato chips, sweets and chocolate crammed into it. 

The steward stares blankly. So does Bakugou to be honest.

What the fuck. 

“Woah. So, you’re really gonna eat all of that?” 

Todoroki gestures vaguely towards Bakugou. 

“He’s feral when he’s hungry. I don’t want to take any chances.” 

Wow. Just wow. 

That seems to be enough to weird the fuck out of the steward. As they enter the cinema, Bakugou jabs Todoroki in the side. An unfortunate noise escapes his lips that sounds too much like a laugh to be dignified. 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

Fuck. That really happened. Todoroki really filled the suitcase with snacks. The thought is so stupid but squeezes Bakugou’s chest tight in a way that leaves him breathless. 

“Don’t worry, Bakugou. I would have been willing to talk to the manager if necessary.” 

Bakugou snorts. That, he would have paid to see. 

“Okay, Karen.”

They settle down into their seats, Todoroki pulling out all the snacks and splaying them across his lap. But he doesn’t stop there. Because that would be too much to ask for. Todoroki takes the lamp out of the suitcase, curling his arm around its side so it rests against him. 

“Put that away, idiot!” Bakugou hisses, ignoring the giggles in the rows ahead of them. 

Todoroki raises a brow, taking a slurp of his soda. It’s unfair how attractive he looks in the low light, with a lamp by his side and mountain of snacks on his lap. 

Nobody in such a ridiculous position deserves to ever look this good. 

“This is part of you. Of course I’m attached to it.” 

“Shut up and watch the movie. If we get kicked out, I’ll kill you.” 

Bakugou slumps into his seat, glancing over to the lamp on the other side of Todoroki. If he’s hiding a shaky fucking stupid smile into his hoodie then nobody ever needs to know. 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

WE’RE ON THE 

BRIGHT TRACK 

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

“I can’t believe you fell asleep.” 

“I was sleepy,” Todoroki argues as if that explains everything and absolves him from blame. 

Bakugou recalls the serene expression on Todoroki’s face at the cinema, the movie cascading over his skin. The way his head rested just above Bakugou’s had felt so damn nice and comfortable. 

Peaceful. 

“You barely made it ten minutes.” 

Bakugou flops onto the couch, eyes following Todoroki wearily as he sets the lamp down in its usual position on the table. 

“Was it good?”

“What?”

Todoroki meets his gaze, a small smile nestled in the corner of his mouth. 

“The movie. Was it good?”

It’s unfortunate that this is the moment where words fail. 

The tragic truth is that he spent more time focused on the ethereal, handsome man fast asleep beside him, than the actual events of the movie. 

It’s a whole new embarrassing level of pining. And he’s a fucking genie. God. 

“Yeah,” Bakugou manages. Barely. 

“Shame I missed it, then.” 

Funny. Because Todoroki doesn’t sound like he’s particularly bothered about that. In fact, judging from the lilt of his voice, he’s pleased. 

Realisation hits hard. Somehow, the bastard seems to know. He’s developed a real knack for hearing the things Bakugou can’t bring himself to say. 

He hears, he listens and he sees. A potent trio. 

Now, Bakugou is sure Todoroki sees far too much. 

There’s an intent expression sat there on his face, one Bakugou wants to both sink into and squirm away from as fast as possible. 

He knows now, that he would not have been remotely ready for it if Todoroki had the audacity to do this back at the cinema. 

Fuck. Shit. 

“What the hell you staring at?” he tries for steely composure, but his voice comes out wrangled and airy. 

Damn this. 

“The light of my life.” 

Bakugou blinks. 

Then blinks again, because there is no way he could have heard that correctly. No way. Todoroki is not turning this into a cliche that calls for the backdrop of canned laughter. 

”Fuck off.” 

Bakugou takes a deep calming breath. Sometimes life with Todoroki is really hard. He has to keep a firm hold on his sanity at all times. This man has complete reign over his heart, can render him into this spluttering cackling mess. It’s disgusting and despicable. 

Unfazed, Todoroki inches closer until he’s perched on the edge of the couch. His hands card through Bakugou’s hair, the soft pressure of his nails is fucking delicious. 

Bakugou will never admit to leaning into the touch, encouraging it to continue. It just feels damn nice, anyone would want that. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep earlier,” Todoroki murmurs, eyes gleaming so soft that Bakugou has to look away for his own sake. 

“If it’s any consolation, I wanted to kiss you too.”  

Bakugou hauls himself up to sit eye level with Todoroki. Hold the fucking phone. 

Carefully, he searches those eyes for any signs of teasing that crosses their usual lines. He isn’t surprised to find nothing but hushed sincerity there. 

If anything, he had hoped for it. He hoped for this so goddamn much that now he’s really thinking about it his chest burns. What resides there he dares not name, not yet.

“What’s stopping you this time?” 

It’s posed as a challenge, because it leaves far too much in the open raw and vulnerable as a question. Todoroki never fails to meet his mark, keep him on his toes. He’s not playing this down, he’s just making it a little easier for the both of them. 

The flash of relief on Todoroki’s face proves that it’s the right decision. 

Crowding into what’s left of the space between the pair of them, mismatched eyes down to Bakugou’s mouth. Yet still, he doesn’t do a damn thing about it. Bastard. 

“Nothing, I suppose…” 

Tired of this game, Bakugou yanks Todoroki forwards by his shirt. He stumbles awkwardly, bracing a hand on the couch to avoid a graceless fall. Those pretty eyes widen in surprise, a flush rising up to fill his cheeks. 

He looks so wonderful this way. 

“Then don’t keep me waiting.” 

Lips ghost over Bakugou’s, agonisingly close. Todoroki speaks in a low tone that is completely mesmerising considering he shouldn’t be speaking at all. 

“Your wish is my command...” 

The words drag over Bakguou’s jaw, pressed into his skin. His hands tremble as he brushes the hair out of Todoroki’s eyes. He wants to be unimpressed, he wants to show Todoroki how much he thinks these stupid jokes of his aren’t funny. 

But it’s very difficult to be anything other than a fucking wreck at the sight of the man. He’s brilliant. Gorgeous. Fuck. 

The anticipation is almost overwhelming.

Regardless, Bakugou holds his ground. 

Finally, Todoroki sweeps forwards and melds their mouths together. It starts out playful, the parrying of their words teased into each kiss. But Todoroki is far from merciful, and Bakugou finds the fierce intensity he pours into this is not only welcomed but returned. 

“We should take this upstairs,” Todoroki says between ragged breaths when they part.

Bakugou hums in agreement. He hasn’t been upstairs before. He’s both curious and dreading the goddamn state of it. 

And then, Todoroki picks up the lamp from the table as if that isn’t the biggest mood killer of the century. 

Just the sight of a dishevelled Todoroki holding the two foot lamp in one hand, with the intention of bringing it into his bedroom is utterly devastating. 

God.

Whatever primal desire Bakugou felt is gone. Done. 

In its place is an uncomfortable fluttering he wants to destroy. 

Halfway up the stairs, Todoroki quirks and an eyebrow, as if he has no idea what he has done and how awful this is. 

“Any other bright ideas?” he asks, lamp cradled by his side. 

Bakugou stares in abject horror at this mess, at the words that do not deserve a voice. For god’s sake. 

“Yeah. How about you shut the hell up.” 

Todoroki smiles, eyes teeming with unbridled amusement. 

“I wish you would make me.” 

Finally, a wish Bakugou can grant.