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Of course, Yuga Aoyama knew that people thought he was strange.
In his home country —France — he had stood out in the crowds of chic Parisians like a sore thumb. Mainly because of his sparkling disposition and vibrant fashion sense which even he could admit toyed with the line between unique and gaudy.
But also because of the belt, he wore that kept his quirk at bay. A piece of shiny metal that he had been wearing since he was a child.
And as with anything that stood out anywhere in the world, he often found himself being ostracized.
Adults thought of his overly sparkly personality as a cover for some kind of deviance. And other kids? Kids are always cruel—but especially so when they don’t understand something.
And for as long as he could remember he has been very difficult to understand.
Not the type of difficult that may read as mysterious or exciting or worthwhile – the type that catches someone’s eye for a moment before they decide it’s too much effort trying to figure it out.
So, for most of his childhood, Aoyama just kept to himself.
He spent recess inside drawing and getting overly zealous with the glitter glue while his classmates played outside. When class was over he’d wait in his seat, coloring in the holes in the o’s and a’s of his name until he heard the telltale honk of his father’s SUV.
It was how he kept himself safe.
And sure, he didn’t have many friends but you can’t really have any enemies when you never speak to anyone.
He might not have been living very well that way, but he survived.
And survival soon becomes second nature.
A second quirk even. Another one that hurt him.
Another way that he was defective.
A crutch that his parents had feared would follow him for the rest of his life. Not only because the delicate nature of his quirk made him retreat further into himself— victim to cruel nicknames and relentless teasing— but because as hard as he tried to hide... Aoyama had always been different and would always be different.
He was worlds away from his two older, rougher, and rugged brothers or his mountain of a father. And even then, he was still not quite the same as his demure mother.
He was just... Aoyama.
And while they loved and cherished him precisely for that reason — the world was not as warm as the Yuga household. The world made being himself something to be survived.
But then, middle school happened.
And suddenly Aoyama was faced with the prospect of another few years of pretending to be a shrinking violet — of being painfully alone in a classroom filled with people — and something in him snapped. Something that wasn’t going to be content with hiding in plain sight anymore. So the next morning he jumped into the back of his mother’s car wearing his sparkly belt and shiny silver painted nails with pride.
Head held up, shoulders back.
(People still talk about the confidence in his stride as he sauntered into his first class to this day.)
And, yeah— he was once again the tallest nail.
And yes, people definitely tried to hammer him down to size on more than one occasion, but diamond is tougher than it looks.
So he just learned to sparkle brighter through the cracks and never look back.
And he didn’t. Not once.
And soon he learned that tall nails exist everywhere and one day another very tall nail in the form of a girl with bright blue skin and the kindest eyes he’d ever seen walked into his class. It must have been the winds of his luck finally changing because she was brave enough to say hello when he wasn’t and kind enough to stay.
And after her came a shy boy with crooked horns.
Twin girls who glowed neon colors.
And suddenly he wasn’t alone.
He had friends. The loneliness was gone.
He was part of something now. Something really special.
And together he and his friends lived.
They’d take detours through Westfield staring at the gleaming diamond, rubies, and sapphires and dreaming of futures filled with excess. Spend lazy Sundays on the bank of the Seine. Sit in the back corner of the cafétéria giggling at fashion magazines and gossiping. Walk home together with happy promises of ‘see you tomorrow’.
It was comfortable and safe and everything he’d hoped for as a lonely little boy.
But something changed after the Louvre was attacked by The Atomizer.
He didn’t really see much of the fight until he’d gotten home later that day and watched the news but while evacuating from his middle school with the rest of his class, he’d seen her.
She was a new hero that he’d heard about here and there from some of his classmates. His oldest brother, a policeman, had even mentioned her the other day in passing too — apparently having run into her on a case he was working. She was ambitious, he’d said, borderline cocky seeing as she was just out of her sidekick days but she was good.
Le Héros de L’épée: Battlaillé. The Sword Hero: Battlaille.
And all things considered, she wasn’t all that impressive to look at. Her costume was a dull grey, and sure it was shiny but it was designed to imitate armor so nothing about it really stood out to him.
It just looked... old. Like a dusty, old relic.
He had almost missed her when she’d bounced from ledge to ledge above them if he’s being totally honest, her outfit blending in with some of the buildings. But when she cut down The Atomizer with her Duel Sword: Flèche, something in him had changed.
Suddenly this dull, unimpressive woman... shined.
The sight of her pulling something from him, and he’s not quite sure what it is until he feels the pull of his cheeks and realizes that he was smiling. And everyone around him — they were smiling too.
And whatever that was that she had — that ability to pull smiles out of strangers — he wanted that more than anything he’d ever wanted before. He wanted to be a hero standing in the light of the French sun, shining brighter than any of the diamonds he’d seen in the priciest of jewelry stores. Spreading that light to people he didn’t even know.
She landed on a nearby ledge, as the villain fell in a heap behind her, balancing skillfully with a smile.
And it was at that moment she seemed to notice the middle school and the crowd of awestruck children gawking at her because she rubbed the back of her neck bashfully and waved down to them somewhat awkwardly before leaping away.
And that was it.
Watching her smile with all the intensity of his brightest navel laser was all it took for him to make a decision.
He wanted to shine the brightest of everyone out there. Spread light everywhere he went. To never stop twinkling.
To be a hero.
🦸🏼♂️🦸🏼♂️ 🦸🏼♂️🦸🏼♂️🦸🏼♂️🦸🏼♂️🦸🏼♂️ 🦸🏼♂️🦸🏼♂️ 🦸🏼♂️
With that one chance encounter, the entire trajectory of his life had changed. And as a boy who never did things by halves, Aoyama aimed for the height of heroism.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to do it his way.
“Hey.”
He was surprised she was able to hear him over both the roaring of the wind and the intensity of her thoughts. But then again, his mother had always said he had a loudmouth.
“Hold on! Right now, I’m...”
She looked unsure.
Or... unsure wasn’t quite correct. He was fairly certain she had come to the same conclusion that he had. She wasn’t unsure about the plan.
Was she...
Perhaps she just needed the right push.
“You were thinking about what Izuku Midoriya would do, weren’t you?”
Aoyama wasn’t blind or so completely absorbed by his career goal that he’d been rendered dense to normal high school things like crushes. You would have to be blind – or Izuku – to miss the fact that Ochako had a crush. But social ineptitude was a condition running rampant at U.A. so strongly that it rivaled the winter flu, so maybe even she wasn’t aware of how obvious her crush really was.
Her eyes widened, comically.
And judging in the slight shock and focus she was now giving him, it would seem Aoyama was right — Uraraka Ochako was surrounded by people who were emotionally inept.
Good.
This could work. “Do you...”
He hoped she could forgive him for his lack of tack later. After they passed.
“Do you like him?”
🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇🥇
They passed.
Just as he had expected they would if one of them could manage to get out of the path of Thirteen’s Black Hole and incapacitated her on one side. Leaving the other free to hold down her other hand allowing them to cuff her. It had seemed like the only way they could actually hope to beat someone with a stable, strong quirk like Thirteen’s.
And, okay, maybe he could have just shared that plan with Uraraka instead of outing her crush, but they were on a time limit.
“Aoyama.”
Aoyama stopped.
He had been walking away from the field, fidgeting with his belt again and his tummy was starting to feel icky and he just wanted to head back to the control room and sit down. And, okay – maybe a small part of him was also trying to hide from Uraraka. He saw what she did to Thirteen. He was impressed, for sure, but he was also très délicate.
“Oui?” He replied, stopping a short distance from the doors.
Uraraka walked up to him and for someone who had just taken down a pro hero with her bare hands she looked ... sheepish.
Rage, he’d expected. He was used to pissing people off, even here at UA. But this?
He hesitated slightly. “A-are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer him straight away, staring at her boot with more intensity than the heeled boots deserved.
(Aoyama would know. He‘d made sure to inspected everyone’s costume designs on the first day. Momo’s shoes were by far the most impressive. Followed closely by Bakugou’s — but Aoyama was fairly certain those boots were not U.A. commissioned. And he was pretty sure Bakugou had gotten them made especially to him by his parents which didn’t exactly seem fair but that was neither here nor there.)
“Um, Uraraka?” He was sure Aizawa would be looking for them to return soon. And after his grades on the midterm, he was actually trying his best not to stand out to the sleepy Homeroom teacher for once. “ Do you...”
Suddenly her head snapped up, cheeks puffed, and face determined and for a painful second, he thought he was going to end up handcuffed on the floor.
“Aoyama.” She exhaled, deflating like a balloon back into the bashful teenage girl from the exam as the word left her. “Just... please don’t tell anyone.”
Aoyama blinked. “That you’re in love with Midoriya?”
She spluttered, feet leaving the ground. She covered her face and for a second Aoyama considered grabbing her leg so she wouldn’t float away.
“I don’t...” Her feet touched the ground again. “I don’t love him.”
He blinked again. “You don’t?”
“I...” She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m only fifteen.”
And suddenly Aoyama wondered if maybe she was so obvious on purpose. Maybe... she wanted to be seen too? Wanted to find a way to tell him without saying the words? He guessed loving someone in silence was just as hard as doing it out loud. And with how oblivious Midoriya seemed, he might as well have put her on mute.
Aoyama could sympathize with that.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was exactly known for leaving well enough along so he said, “You know.... there’s no audio in the viewing room for these exams. Right?”
A brief flicker of disappointment gave way to a small smile and what looked like exasperated acceptance.
“It’s probably for the best.” She said.
“Is it?” He asked, toying with the buckle of the belt. “For the best I mean?”
She looked at him then, and he supposed he should have expected the surprise.
He might not have reverted back into that reclused little boy from his childhood but something about being so far from home and his family and his friends ... it dulled him a bit.
Yes, he spoke to his classmates and he would say that he had friends in 1A but then he’d go back home to his little apartment. His childhood had made him used to being alone in a crowd, but it wasn’t until he moved to Japan that he realized how hard being alone really was. And maybe it was counterproductive but that made him a little less likely to go out of his way and spark up a conversation — not that he’d ever really been that way.
So this was probably the longest they had ever spoken.
He expected her to tell him to mind his business — maybe not as rough as someone like Bakugou would have but firmly enough for him to get the drift.
“You’re...” She started, head leaning to the side curiously. “You’re really observant aren’t you, Aoyama?”
Aoyama faltered at that, looking up to give her his full attention. What he finds there is a small smile — it’s a little sad, but it’s definitely real. It reminds him of home. Of another girl who had been brave enough to give him a chance. And he thinks if he were a little braver maybe he could say something that would turn it into a laugh. And maybe he could carry that home with him, and his apartment might not feel so empty.
He knows he should answer because now he’s just staring at her, but he doesn’t get the chance because just as he opens his mouth “URAKAKA! AOYAMA!” rings through the air.
It’s Midoriya, followed closely by Tsuyu. And he’s happy to see them — because they’re his friends — but something glossy goes over Ochako’s eyes and all of a sudden, she’s on mute again.
She sends one last look his way before she bounces over to her friends.
🌪 🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪
Things get easier — but they also get harder. Aoyama is starting to think maybe that’s just life.
He heads back home during the aftermath of the League of Villians to pick up his things.
His mother doesn’t want him to return, which he anticipates. She’s spent half his life worrying that he’d have no friends, she wasn’t prepared to worry that he might not make it home. They talk and yell and argue about it, but eventually, that gives out to understanding.
His father is concerned but he’s always been quieter in his expression that his mother, so all he gets is a pat on the back and a long hug. One that says ‘stay safe, come back home’ and ‘ I love you’ all at once. His brothers check him over even though he wasn’t injured, he tells them, his classmates were much worse off.
On the way to the airport, he tells them all stories about his class and the sports festival and everything they’ve missed. Which might reignite some of his mother’s worry but at least she’s happy that he’s found something he loves so much.
✈️ ✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️
Being with his classmates in the dorms is just what he needs.
He spends his mornings being dragged on runs with Ojiro. He teaches Sato to make mini macaroons he can fit into the pockets of his costume. Koda has a poodle in his room that reminds him of his family dog, Vêtement, and loves belly rubs. And Tokoyami introduces him to a couple mangas and he may or may not be obsessed.
And yeah, things happen.
There are scary challenges and new hurdles but he’s doing well.
He earns his provisional license and passes his exams. And he falls into rhythm with life in the dorms seamlessly and suddenly he feels himself... sparkling again.
Bright enough that even Bakugou’s complaints do very little to harsh his mellow. He even manages to laugh when he drops a pair of gaudy sunglasses on his fellow blondes head after he complains of being blinded and nearly has he face scorched off.
💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥
He notices in the first semester of their second year, but he doesn’t mention it till their second semester.
Ochako doesn’t seem to carry a torch for Midoriya like she used to.
But that’s not what catches his eye.
Non.
What makes that morsel of information more tantalizing is when he stumbles into the gym for the first time that year and walks in on Ochako sending Bakugou onto his ass with a single leg takedown.
It’s an impressive feat. The takedown, the fact that she even dares to touch Bakugou, the fact that Bakugou lets her touch him — all of it is impressive.
But that is still not what gives Aoyama pause, as he fills his water bottle.
But then Ochako spins on her knee, falls into a straddle on top of the most aggressive member of their class, and grabs Bakugou’s hands, locking them above his head.
Again. Another impressive move.
Again. Not the point.
The point — mon chère— being that as soon as Uraraka Ochako slams Bakugou’s hands above his head, her eyes slip – for just one single moment, a fraction of a second – landing squarely on Bakugou Katsuki’s lips. They pause then, suspended in time for the beat of a heart. Him looking up at her. Her looking down at him, a swift bite of her bottom lip.
But as soon as it comes it is over – Bakugou grabs the back of her thigh and in her hesitation, flips her down on to the mat.
Hard.
The blonde smirks, saying something to the brunette that Aoyama can’t quite hear but the smile on her face says enough. He tugs Ochako to her feet, the force of it putting her a little off balance and sends her into his chest, stopping herself with her hand. Bakugou looks down at her and Ochako must remember where she’s at because she jumps back, falling into a fighting stance. She says something that Bakugou must like because all of a sudden, he is cracking his knuckles and smirking and they are back to fighting.
The sight of it is… kinda cute.
In a way that is very specific to U.A. and very specific to those two in particular.
It vaguely reminds him of a scene from that one romance manga Tokoyomi sweats are his sister’s — although how one accidentally brings four volumes of manga with him to the dorms is a question his friend has yet to answer – but this seems more... convoluted.
And suddenly, Aoyama thinks that if Bakugou and Uraraka were characters in a tv show it would probably take four seasons for them to get together. It would probably be drawn out and dramatic and complicated but would make for some really good tv.
Too bad he doesn’t have that kind of time.
So, at lunch that afternoon, when he spots Ochako in line deliberating between a jelly cup and a chocolate cupcake he decides to take the chance he missed with the whole Midoriya thing and talk to her.
See if she needed someone to talk to.
“Uraraka?”
“Ah!” Luckily, all five of her fingers were touching the cupcake and Aoyama manages to catch it as it falls back down. “Aoyama?” He hands it back to her. “Sorry! I didn’t see you there. I was just...”
“The cupcake, ma amie.”
She blinks.
“Oh, yes. Right.” She shakes her head. “Sorry, Aoyama. I’m a little out of it today, I guess.”
“Do you...” He knows it a bit of a dick move but at least he has the decency to whisper this time when he asks, “Do you like Bakugou?”
And he has the wherewithal to preemptively grab onto Ochako’s shoulder as she floats a cm above the ground and pulls her along the line with him. Her face is flushed, and she looks uncomfortable but it also been a year so she manages a glare at him this time now that there is no exam to be passed.
(And he’s toughened up considerably too. So, he’s more capable to handle a punch if she swings. Maybe. Hopefully.)
“How do you always do that?”
Aoyama let us go of her shoulders as she floats back down to the ground. “Do what?”
“You know.” She walks up to the register with her tray, looking at the pudding cup for a moment before leaving it on the side. “Know things. You always leave me feeling so... exposed.”
“I’m just...” He picked up the pudding cup, scanning it with his things. “Observant. Remember?”
She nods and doesn’t fight him as he pushes the pudding cup onto her tray. Something tells him she’s too tired to, and so he decides to see how far he can stretch this luck of his, steering her with a hand on her shoulder away from her usual spot between Izuku and Tsuyu for a table in the corner of the cafeteria. Again, she protests simply following along with nothing more than a raised brow.
They sit down, across from each other. His back is against the wall of the booth while she’s sat on the chair with her back to the rest of the cafeteria — he thinks she’ll feel more comfortable this way.
Less boxed in.
But as she looks up at him, he thinks maybe he was the one who was boxed in. But it doesn’t make him uncomfortable per se — just hyper-aware of himself.
“So?”
Aoyama sipped his mint tea. “Oui?”
“How do you know?”
“Que?”
“What?”
“Exactly. Que.”
Perhaps Ochako is spending too much time with Bakugou already because the glare she gives him makes him hear explosions pop off in his head.
Oh wow.
Two years in the same class with Bakugou and Aoyama may just be traumatized.
“Cut it out, Aoyama.” It would sound more threatening if she didn’t pick up the cupcake first, but he gets the point. “Answer the question.”
He leans forward on his elbows considering it for a moment. “Fine, fine.”
It’s not that he really pays extra attention to Uraraka. Not any more than any of his classmates. Maybe he’s just... spent so much of his childhood playing defense that being this observant is a byproduct.
(Wow. He hopes it's not that — his sad backstory isn’t going to mesh well with his dazzling presence when he goes pro — but that’s probably it.)
“It’s pretty obvious, you know.” Ochako looks at him questioningly, so he continues. “I’ll be honest with you, ma chérie. Love isn’t something you hide very well.”
She scoffs. “Love? Hardly.”
“Infatuation. Adoration. Admiration.” He shrugged, popping a chip into his mouth. “It’s all just one thing in many forms, oui? L’Amoreeee.” She doesn’t hit him, but she does throw a French fry at him, which he supposed is fair. He chuckles. “More than anything I just wanted to know if you needed someone to talk to.”
He expects the furrowed brow because while they may be classmates and friends and he’s well and truly out of his shell ... they haven’t really talked much since the whole Midoriya thing. Haven’t really had the time what with all the villains and exams and life in the way.
But... “I should have said something after the thing at the final exam. But I think we’re similar — you and me.”
“How so?”
“We both know what it’s like to be hiding in plain sight.”
Ochako pauses at that, considering his words.
“You don’t do a lot of hiding.” She says. “You’re pretty ... bright.”
“I used to.”
She looks at him then. Really looks at him. Not with quick glances or the glossy eyes that she used to look at Midoriya with — but with honest eyes looking for the same honestly in someone else. And there is something both sad and familiar about that.
“Hmmm.” She hums. She grabs the cupcake, twisting the top off because — as he would come to learn — she is seventy percent sucrose and offers him the moist cake leftover. He accepts. “So, tell me more about why the twinkling boy would ever want to hide in plain sight.”
🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁
Being friends with Uraraka happens like the birth of a star.
There is no grace period or adjustment, no awkward rumblings like with everyone else.
There is nothing.
And then suddenly there is light.
Following their lunch, Aoyama and Ochako start running into each other more at the gym.
Midnight assigns them to the same group for a project.
They’re paired together for a rescue exercise by Cementoss.
They decide to ride the train together to Momo’s mansion for a study session.
And then, eventually, they start hanging out.
It starts when Aoyama offers to lend Ochako some jewelry for the upcoming heroes gala the school is hosting and what was meant to be a quick trip to his room for a necklace turns into rambunctious laughter and a movie marathon.
Once Aoyama learns that Ochako has been deprived of the opportunity to revel in all the tackiness of early 2000s teen movies — and recovers from the subsequent shock — it becomes his sole mission to get her acquainted with everything from Clueless to John Tucker Must Die before the year is up. Ochako obliges him if only because his commentary is hilarious and drags him to the planetarium with her the next weekend because fair is fair.
And they talk and talk. Sometimes past curfew in one of their rooms giggling like kids up too late at a sleepover or over the phone while they fall asleep.
Sometimes Aoyama will sneak pictures of Bakugou around school to send to Ochako because watching her hover from embarrassment will never stop being hilarious. Sometimes Ochako berates him for it, but most of the time she laughs along and saves the picture to her phone. Sometimes when she’s feeling particularly mischievous she’ll send Aoyama pictures of Ojiro — whom she works at the school welcome desk with occasionally.
(It’s a tit-for-tat trade when Aoyama tells her how he feels about Ojiro and the complete acceptance she gives him is worth the teasing that follows.)
There is something fresh, and young about their friendship that feels like a minty breath of air after all the violence and torment they’ve seen. It seems silly and childish at times, especially after everything they’ve been through – but maybe that’s what makes it worthwhile.
When Ochako makes up one morning before her presentation for Hero Economics with Bakugou with a pimple the size of a small island, it is Aoyama who sits her down in his bathroom armed with concealer and tutorials. It works and Bakugou actually smiles at her when they get their passing grade back and if it makes her heart pound a little then the makeup on her collar is worth it. She finds him later and throws her hands around him, smearing makeup in his shirt and thanks him.
She paints his nails one day because the only color he has is a horrible neon yellow that even she can tell is tragic — and the next morning Ojiro compliments them and Aoyama catches Ochako’s eye in the back of the class where she’s smiling like an idiot.
God. The only way she could be more obvious is if she gave him the ‘supportive-mom’ thumbs up.
But he smiles back anyway.
Because that’s what they do that for each other.
Save each other in all the small, significant ways that mean the world.
🎥🎥🎥🎥🎥🎥🎥🎥🎥🎥
twinkle twinkle
- so? whweb?
7:03 pm
stargirl
- what?
7:04 pm
-is that a french term?
7:04 pm
twinkle twinkle
- no. it’s an accorum.
7:05 pm
stargirl
- acronym. and do you wanna tell me what it means?
7:06 pm
twinkle twinkle
- don’t be coy. did you tell blasty?
7:06 pm
stargirl
- you know he’d kill you if he knew you called him that.
7:06 pm
twinkle twinkle
- you wouldn’t let him do that.
7:07 pm
-right?
7:08 pm
stargirl
- funny you think I could stop him.
7:08 pm
twinkle twinkle
- you could. you have him wrapped around your little finger.
7:09 pm
stargirl
- are we talking about the same boy? the one who was chained to a podium at the sports festival in first and second year?
7:10 pm
twinkle twinkle
- the very same one.
7:10 pm
stargirl
- ...
7:11 pm
twinkle twinkle
- did you tell him?
7:11 pm
stargirl
- [has left the chat]
7:12 pm
twinkle twinkle
- you’ve forced my hand. answer when i knock.
7:12 pm
📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱
Ojiro starts dating Toru at the beginning of their third year.
That night Ochako almost burns the dorm down trying to balance a very expensive long-distance call to France and a mini flamethrower to brûlée some crème. Aoyama appreciates the effort and he’ll be sure to thank her for her consideration in the morning, but being woken up by the fire alarm and sitting on the damp grass at three a.m. isn’t exactly how he wants to spend his night.
Ochako gives him a sheepish grin, from across the lawn where Iida is berating her midnight baking. There is crème on her shirt and some on her shoes and even in her hair.
All things considered, it is pretty hilarious and Aoyama catches himself smiling despite himself.
At least the firefighters are hot.
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Bakugou Katsuki is hot.
They are at the third-year training camp and by some miracle, it isn’t in some desert or swamp or tar pit — it’s at an honest-to-god beach. And other than the grueling training – that means what free time they do get is spent at the beach.
And beaches mean bikinis, trunks, and abs.
Which is lends itself back to the previous statement— Bakugou Katsuki is hot.
Was hot.
Has always had some degree of attractiveness.
But it was almost unfair now.
On the first day, while they did endurance training on the sandy terrain, the sun had warmed his complexion. Giving him a golden glow that complemented the blonde of his hair (while leaving everyone else red and tender).
The second day, they spent the entire afternoon swimming from the shore to a small island in the distance. Ochako and Jirou had puked. Aoyama had been stung by what he realized too late was NOT a jellyfish (turns out Kirishima is an exceptionally good friend, and they will never speak of it again). But Bakugou had been totally fine. Swimming back and forth to the island twice – of his own free will like an honest to god freak – with ease and running to the shower afterward. Apparently, he had forgotten his shampoo and hair products because when he returned to dinner his hair was pulled into a traitorous man bun.
Even Izuku had gasped.
And it was common knowledge that Bakugou’s body was ridiculous — that should not have left an impression on any of them. But combined with what the elements seemed to be gifting him it, the combined sight — hair, skin, abs — left many feeling inadequate or inspired.
If only for the duration of time it took for him to open his mouth.
But that was beside the point.
Point: Bakugou is hot. Almost everyone in their class could attest to that.
Except for Ochako who couldn’t bear to say the words out loud. It was Aoyama’s personal theory that doing so who make her combust – which is why he had Todoroki insight whenever he bugged her about it just in case. Because it couldn't be that Ochako didn’t know Bakugou was hot. (Aoyama had the text messages to prove that she did.) It was more that while Bakugou’s physical appearance had become a topic of casual conversation, Ochako had reserved the right not to comment.
She said it was because she grew up sheltered and was shy.
Truthfully, Aoyama just thought that was code for sexually repressed.
But that did lead to a fun time for him. Mainly seeing how frequently and how intensely he could make Ochako blush during this week.
Anytime Bakugou tossed his shirt off to go for his afternoon swim.
“Baku-tiddies.”
Blush.
When Bakugou was cutting up the vegetables for that night’s stew.
“Baku-Biceps.” Aoyama whispered in her ear, as she not so subtly watched. “Baku-Snack.”
Blush. Blush. Float.
When Aizawa forced them to prove they could “handle the elements” — like a grumpy dad in an old movie complaining about all this damn technology— and Bakugou just happened to set his sleeping bag next to Ochako.
Aoyama had texted, “Use protection.”
She had floated a pillow above his head and dropped it with a snap of her fingers.
🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️🏊🏻♂️
Time flies and before they can even fully comprehend a world outside of U.A. and Class 1A, they find themselves walking across the stage in front of their families with their whole lives ahead of them.
There are tears — most of them from All Might — and laughs. Bakugou gives a shared valedictorian speech with Momo and Tenya. Momo offers the Golden Class words of encouragement and affection and has half of the year falling harder for her. Tenya prescribes good habits — obeying rules, taking care of oneself, living plus Ultra — in the dorky big brother way that they had all come to rely on. And Bakugou... he stakes his claim as the future number one and warns the graduating class that they’d better not fucking embarrass him out there on the field by being fucking weak.
But at least his section of the three-way address doesn’t end with him muzzled and chained to his seat, so, besides a few irritated looks for his use of profanity, everyone is happy.
Aoyama’s parents fly in from France and take up the middle row dressed in the sparkiest suits that he’s ever seen. He can see them clearly and hear them cheering when he walks, and it may have been embarrassing to anyone else but he loves it.
The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur and suddenly they are packing up their dorm rooms and half their class moves across the country.
Midoriya barely waits for graduation to end before he heads out to I Island with All Might in tow. Todoroki, Hagakure, and Tokoyami all accept a secret mission abroad that Thirteen had handpicked the three for during the last week of classes. Yaoyorozu joins Mt. Lady and Kamu Woods on a surveillance mission to track the remnants of the League. Shoji, Sato, Mineta, and Koda head back to their hometowns to regroup and consider the options in front of them.
Much to Bakugou’s annoyance, the Bakugou Squad all pretty much stays together — Kirishima accepts a sidekick role at Genius HQ with Bakugou while Mina and Jiro find work at an independent agency less than an hour away. Sero and Denki decide to work under with Fatgum in a mentorship capacity that sees them filling the gap at various companies.
Aoyama stays close.
He had been bouncing back and forth between staying in Japan or heading back to France. But his decision is pretty much made for him when he finds out that Battlaillé is looking for a building close by. Three weeks of basically stalking the now well-established global hero lead to her finally letting him be her first international sidekick.
He’s a little surprised when he tells Ochako and she suggests they get an apartment together.
He’d assumed that she’d be working with Thirteen to cover the gap her absence would cause but she’s decided to work with Miruko.
The Rabbit Hero has never been afflicted with any agency or taken on any sidekicks so when Bakugou and Ochako had managed to convince her to let them intern with her, everyone had been shocked. It was even more shocking to Ochako when Miruko found her at graduation and offered her a position with her. Not as a sidekick but as an equal — she wanted to mentor the next generation of kickass female heroes and Uravity had impressed her.
She’d jumped at the chance.
And Aoyama jumped at the chance to move in with his best friend.
Apartment hunting was fun and stressful and filled with small stupid fights over countertops and flooring but the finally found it. A two bedroom, two bath apartment ten mins from Aoyama’s agency and fifteen minutes away from Miruko’s current base of operations. Not too cheap and not too pricey — Ochako would be able to send half of her earnings to her parents without living like a peasant. In a trendy part of the city so Aoyama could occasionally force her into something other than sweats and they could get trashed in style.
They loved it, they really did.
It was somewhere they wouldn’t mind calling home.
Something that would be theirs.
And seeing Kirishima toting two large moving boxes into the apartment next door and hearing what was definitely Bakugou screaming about him tracking dirt onto the fucking carpets the day after signing their lease honestly made the place even better.
For Aoyama.
Better for Aoyama.
Ochako dedicates herself to organizing their kitchen only because it needs to be done and not because she doesn’t want Bakugou to see her in her mochi stained sweatpants and musty sports bra. Aoyama cracks open a beer in solidarity with Kirishima (ignoring the shouts from Bakugou about them being underage) who also knows the difficulty of dealing with the emotionally constipated idiots they call friends.
🍺 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺
Adulting is hard.
And while this may not be an original thought, Aoyama likes to think it is one he’s entitled to considering how often he finds himself risking his life. But there are moments — rare though they may be — when he feels like growing up may have been worth it.
It’s the strongest when Friday hits and he waddles back to his and Ochako’s apartment with his costume packed in its case and a whole weekend to himself. Sometimes he walks in and the apartment is silent because Ochako is working on a busy case with Miruko. Sometimes he hears the hum of the tv and her soft snores as she falls asleep on the couch from one of her notorious marathon shifts. On rare occasions, Aoyama comes in not feeling like the walking dead and musters up the strength to pull Ochako out for a night out in the town they protect. Other times, he wanders in and the fire alarm is beeping and Bakugou or Kirishima (or very rarely both) are in their kitchen fanning towels and books at the ceiling — on those nights they all end up eating together and the UA dorms don’t feel so far away.
Before they even know it two whole years pass in a blur of adventures, laughs, tears, fights, and growth. And they are still rookies, but they’re older now. They know things now and, sure, sometimes when the world is extra harsh, they wish they didn’t, but they persevere. They grow and they adapt.
And although their class is scattered across the globe that is something, they all do – together.
And with the passage of time, they gain popularity and renown. And with fame comes rankings. And with rankings comes the competitive nature that underlined the success of every member of the Golden Class.
Bakugou and Deku were never the only ones shooting for the stars and if they thought all they had to worry about was each other? Well, they had another fucking thing coming because none of the former class 1A was just going to give it to them without one hell of a fight.
But one consequence of success that the more one-track-minded of their former class had overlooked was promotions.
Popularity had to maintained.
And while some of them flourished under the attention — ahem, Mina — others shied away from it completely.
Aoyama was more than open to accepting most of the offers — jewelry chains, teeth whitening products, etc — that came his way.
Ochako was a little more selective. She mostly took up fashion shoots and occasionally work with the planetarium. And no matter how much Aoyama encouraged her she shied away from the unsurprising number of lingerie shoots sent her way with a blush and an awkward laugh.
Jirou usually stuck to advertising music streaming apps or audio products. Mina was the queen of the athletic brands. Mineta, strangely, found his calling working with fruit juice companies and was a hit with little kids. Kirishima could be seen shirtless across the covers of various men’s fitness magazines. And one could never forget the shock of seeing Deku dressed in crisp boxers and not much else on a particularly racy spread for Calvin Klein (apparently it was All Might’s idea).
But on rare days the promotion gods graced them with something truly special.
“What’s that?”
“Le Cadeau.” Aoyama said, with a flourish even though he knew she didn’t understand him. That was fine. It was all part of the fun. “A present.”
“Oh.”
She accepts the term ‘present’ loosely because presents — and she may not have gotten many in her life — as far as she knew were wrapped. This box that Aoyama was shaking at her was at best... covered in different scraps of wrapping paper all with different animals carrying birthday cake.
Which leads to her next question.“Why?”
“Why?”
“You realize it’s not my birthday, right?”
“Oui, ma chère.” Aoyama rolls his eyes. He was the one who reminded her last year. “I know.”
“Is it a holiday in France or something? Or did something happen? A promotion or something?”
“Something did happen.”
“What?” She looked at him warily. “Is this gift to soften me up before you tell me my cat died or something?”
“You don’t have a cat.”
“I’m allergic.”
“I know that too, ma amie.” The glitter on the wrapping paper was spreading onto the floor the more he shook the box. “Take it.”
“Okay, okay.” She took the box from him, smiling softly. “Thank you.”
“No, ma chérie.” His eyes twinkled. “Thank Best Jeanist.”
Ochako faltered at that.
She loved Aoyama but he could be a little unrestrained at times, her only respite was that the box was much to small to fit another cosplaying stripper like the one he had ‘gifted’ her on her birthday. She tore into the packaging getting into it after fighting with the insane amount of duct tape holding the whole thing together.
It was a magazine.
She blinked. “Hero Today.”
Aoyama nodded, hands clasped behind his back and excitedly rocking in his heels.
“Heroine, Homemaker, Herbalist: The Green Ivy Story.” Ochako read. “Sounds... riveting.”
“Who cares about that?!” Aoyama grabbed the magazine from her hands, flicking through the pages like a madman before stopping with a squeal. Not that it phased her — Aoyama was often squealing. “I had to wrestle this from a sixteen-year-old girl. I have scratches on my arm.”
She looked at him, blankly.
“Just look.” He handed her back the magazine, “Thank me now. Or later. Whenever your motor functions return.”
Ochako grips the magazine and looks down at its pages.
Her eyes widen.
Aoyama’s grin starts to falter as Ochako's silence goes on a beat too long, but she is having a moment, okay?! And she can't decide if she should be laughing or crying or thanking God for his work. Or maybe swatting Aoyama with the magazine.
Either way, she’s sure she looks dumb as her mouth stays agape as she tries to come up with a response. The best she can muster is a lame, “When did this happen?”
“Two weeks ago.” Aoyama leans in. “I ran into him on the way to meet you for dinner and he was rushing to get to the shoot and may have mentioned how he should fire his publicist for selling him out like this.” He shrugged. “I think she should get a raise.”
A fat raise at that.
From what he’d yelled at Aoyama in passing, the shoot was originally meant to be random ass pictures of him standing there doing nothing in his costume like he was seven years old again modeling for his mom. The spread included an interview written by a famous reporter. And honestly, it was a great opportunity to raise his public approval. Not that Bakugou cared about that. He thought it was fucking bullshit and he’d made sure everyone in the vicinity had known.
And now looking at what had actually come out of the shoot Aoyama was sure that Bakugou was now two things:
- Vastly more popular. And,
- Pissed to a hellish extent.
Spread across three pages are pictures of Bakugou — featuring that delicious undercut that Kirishima had finally convinced him to get — dressed in various stages of his hero costume. Sans shirt. His hand was outstretched and face somewhat relaxed as he faced someone who they assumed was strategically handing him pieces of his costume (shirt for last) as his gauntlets and mask appeared in the next picture.
The final picture was, for lack of a better word, intense.
Bakugo stood there finally directly facing the camera, red eyes in full display, and his characteristic scowl across his face. Mask was on but his gauntlets sat abandoned at his feet, as his arms — those arms — were pulled through his tank top like he was just about to slip it on.
The picture, well, exuded the type of energy that would have stan Twitter talking about Bakugou for a long time to come.
His publicist was some kind of evil genius.
Aoyama just knew that somewhere Bakugou was absolutely fuming — which really just made this whole thing better in his opinion. And Ochako? Well, she had been staring at that picture for a good while not even reacting when Aoyama slipped past her singing “you can keep it!”
Which is what leads to the next few weeks of teasing.
As fun as it was to tease Ochako — those pink cheeks and embarrassed floating really never did get old — Aoyama must have saved a nation in a past life because two weeks later, Bakugou was assigned by Best Jeanist as an assist to the big case that Miruko was working on. And if life could not get any funnier, Battlaillé’s long-standing search for the remnants of a drug cartel intersected with Miruko’s investigation — which meant very suddenly and, as far as Aoyama was concerned, very conveniently they were all coworkers!
And for the first time in too long Aoyama not only had a front-row seat to the hilarity that this arrangement afforded him, but he also had the perfect perch at which to so some honest to god scheming. Something that he had missed his opportunity with back at UA.
But not this time.
This time he would get his best friend her happy ending. And if that happy ending was shaped like an angry, blonde boy with dynamite in his palms — well, who was he to judge?
He just wanted her to be happy. If she wanted him, she’d have him.
Even if he has to force the happiness it down her throat.
Lovingly. Of course.
🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔
What Aoyama did not expect was for Ochako to beat him to the punch.
It wasn't like he hadn't dated. He had.
After facing his first gay heartbreak after the whole Ojiro and Toru thing back in high school - which now the two of them are able to laugh about even teasingly referring to the tailed hero as his high school husband with Toru (his very female, very pregnant wife) - he had tried out the dating scene.
His first pool had been UA, but upon realizing the school had all of five out queer male students - one being a baby faced freshman, two being a couple in Class 1-C who were not looking for a third, him and Monoma - he had started expanding his net. He dated a sidekick who worked at the agency he interned with and kinda loved him before that ended when he went abroad for a long term mission. He had a brief stint in an open relationship with the barista who worked the Monday morning shift at the hipster coffee place by his agency, before deciding that staying up wondering whether or not his not-boyfriend was sleeping with someone else probably meant he wasn't built for it. He'd been on a handful of dates form a handful of dating apps and although he had thoroughly enjoyed his hoe phase (fully supported by Ochako as long as he was safe) he was fully over that.
Alas, real dating - courting dating - was like a full-time job.
And he already had one of those.
So, he had kind of resigned himself to the fact that he would most likely be that old gay on the dance floor of his favorite night club talking to some young twink about the days that he was that young twink getting gorgeous men to buy him drinks. He had accepted that as his fate. A fate that was easier to face once he realized he was blessed with good genes and would, therefore, be the most handsome, shiniest silver fox at any party.
A tragic and lonely, albeit fabulous, fate.
At least that was until Ochako had walked into the office with a treat of a man who looked suspiciously like Hitoshi Shinso in tow one day. If he had been dripped in a vat of Aoyama's wet dreams.
Ochako had given him that weird, almost creepy look she did whenever she was plotting something, and next thing he knew he was being sent to the police station with Hitoshi to interrogate the henchman they'd brought in four days ago.
Which was - mind his french - bullshit.
Aoyama didn't do interrogation. Interrogations were in dimly lit rooms with an audience of one and, sure, he knew heroes worked behind the scenes but that didn't bode well for his protagonist spirit.
But Hitoshi?
They walked into that room and he seemed to wake up. An energy filled the space dancing through the air, as Hitoshi pulled back on of the chairs across from the hired hitman with a cool, calmness that for once Aoyama envied. The air tickled Aoyama's skin to and as his fingers brushed against Hitoshi's as he passed him a chair also, he couldnt help but stare at the other hero.
He was alive in interrogation.
Hitoshi opened the file, legs spread invitingly looking like - excuse his bluntness - sex on legs.
He controlled this room. And everyone in it.
"You planning to cooperate or are we gonna do this the hard way?" God, even his voice was hot.
"You don't fucking scare me you fucki-"
Silence. Compliance.
Damn.
Aoyama looked between the suddenly placated Villian and Hitoshi with thinly contained admiration.
With a hint of arousal if he's being completely honest. And maybe there was something wrong with Aoyama, but he was sure he'd tell Hitoshi anything he wanted to know about anything, quirk or no quirk, and thank him for it.
"So," a soft smile meets Aoyama's eyes, and the mirth in those purple eyes made him think Hitoshi knew just what he was doing to the blonde, "shall we continue?"
👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻👨🏼🤝👨🏻
Halfway through his first full year working with Battlaillé, he had been sent undercover on a reconnaissance mission for a month. He’d been tasked with befriending and infiltrating one of the fringe gangs that Death Skull, the European drug cartel, used to filter illicit drugs into Sweden.
At the time no one really believed he could do it.
He was loud, bright, and sparkly. Worlds away from the hardened world of drugs, gangs, and guns that an organization like Death Skull attracted. Other hero’s from Battlaillé’s France based team offered to go undercover instead, unafraid to question his abilities directly to his face. And yeah, it sucked but he wouldn’t let the naysayers knock his confidence, meeting any condescension and lack of faith with a dazzling smile.
He knew that the change would be hard. Possibly the hardest thing Battlaillé had asked of him.
But he also knew he could do it.
He had to.
If she had seen something in him that made her confident enough to send him into the belly of the beast, he’d be the last person to make her doubt her decision.
Besides other than sparkly things, there are was nothing Aoyama enjoyed more than proving people wrong.
And that’s what he’d done.
He played his part to a tee, stripping himself of the sparkle for leather and tattoos. Soon enough he’d become Louis Fragonard’ main confident and learned that a shipment of illicit quirk suppressing drugs was being delivered to a rookie villains group in the heart of Tokyo, information that he quickly reported back to Battlaillé — saving the entire city from what could have been the biggest disaster since the league.
All that to say, while he loved the shiny, dazzling parts of being a hero, Aoyama knew that information was important. Information saved lives.
And in this case, as he sat next to Ochako who sat next Bakugou who was fuming for whatever reason, he realized that he would need all the information he could gather.
Thus began a two-week endeavor to categorize and compartmentalize all interactions between Ground Zero and Uravity during work. As well as those between Bakugou and Uraraka because although it may have seemed superfluous - there is an important distinction.
For one, Bakugou Katsuki and Uraraka Ochako May have been, to anyone who was paying attention, into each other but Ground Zero and Uravity were staunch professionals.
They had always worked well together even back at school, but now when they are suited and booted on a legitimate patrol as full-fledged sidekicks, there is no time for awkward cracks of attraction to seep through. Their job is too important for that so as Aoyama trails beside them he doesn’t learn much about how they feel. Research and investigation leave room for more fruitful interactions but they are still on the clock so apart from the occasional blush when one of them reaches for the same book or pen, Aoyama doesn't really get much out of it.
What he does learn, however, is that for how aggressive and domineering Ground Zero's persona maybe - he is surprisingly cooperative.
Ground Zero, Uravity and 'Always Keep Twinkling' (a name that, yes, he's stuck with all these years and, yes, the girls and the gays love him) spend anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours together working on their case and patrolling so Aoyama had been expecting Bakugou to blow up at least a couple times.
But he just doesn't. Not really.
Sure, he's still a hot-head and abrasive in his delivery sometimes but he listens when Ochako debriefs them and he even asks Aoyama for his advice on a potential infiltration because of his previous success.
Aoyama almost feels bad for how surprising he finds this grown-up, cooperative Bakugou - but when he tried to apologize by giving the blonde a tearful hug he's met with the popping of an explosion so maybe things haven't changed that much.
But still, it makes him feel better about his friend's infatuation with the explosion hero. He'll treat her right. Not that he had any doubt before, but it helps to see it.
But what he needs to really get the wheels of his scheming turning is the juicy stuff. Some intel.
And that is where he hits the proverbial brick wall.
They may be coworkers now, but outside of work the three of them — Bakugou, Ochako and Aoyama together — have less reason to hang out as a group. Which is strange considering Aoyama does spend a considerable amount of time with the two of them separately. Ochako is his roommate so obviously he sees her all the time. And Kirishima and Aoyama have a long-standing tradition of watching the new episodes of their favorite trashy American reality show on Wednesday— so obviously he sees Bakugou sulking around then.
But he never really sees them together outside of work. And though he knows they are still sparring partners — he has been able to pull the details out of Ochako.
So he relies on what he does see of them.
They live in the same apartment complex so it's not like they don't run into each other. They do.
Sometimes Aoyama and Ochako will see Bakugou walking down the hall with Kirishima. And he quickly learns that even Bakugou gets flustered when he unexpectedly runs into Ochako in the halls (noted) and there was that one time when Bakugou had come out into the hall in just a towel to grab a package just as Ochako had been leaving for the gym and Aoyama swore he heard two distinct, flustered yelps (doubly noted). Sometimes the three of them will walk back to the complex together after work. Sometimes when Ochako is particularly tired but he manages to pull her out for Sunday brunch, Aoyama gets to watch them play a weird game of chicken in front of the elevator as Bakugou comes back from his morning run (something he still does... on purpose). Once in awhile, they all pick up dinner together to eat in their apartment - with Kirishima popping in from next door.
But more often than not the three of them don't really hang out outside of work in any capacity that would help him in matchmaking.
Which is what leads him to Kirishima.
"Aoyama?" Its early in the morning and Aoyama is trying very hard not to look at the hard planes of Kirishima's stomach (Kirishima is another of his friends who has always been hot so whether his appreciation is out of interest or envy is anyone guess). “Is today Wednesday?”
”Non, mon ami.” He’s met with the usual blank expression that sits on Kirishima’s face whenever his French peeks out. Which is stupid considering they’ve known each other for years and he tutored the rock hero for his French final in their third year. “It’s Friday.”
“Oh,” He steps out of the way, ushering Aoyama into the apartment with a wave of his hand. “Thank god! I almost pissed myself man.”
”How much longer are you on house arrest?”
”Two days,” the taller man rolled his shoulders. Kirishima has been hit by a petty thief with a gravity-related quirk, G Plus, which allowed her to increase the gravity of anyone she saw. Luckily, Kirishima was used to handling a little extra weight and managed to subdue her before the full effects rendered him basically immobile. The first day he had t been able to lift his arm. Now he was up and walking but Aoyama could see the slight strain still settled in his shoulders, keeping them somewhat tense and braced. “You know, I would have killed for a vacation before this whole thing but staying at home? It’s kinda the worst.”
”Wouldn’t know.” Aoyama replies. “I’m still willing to pull a homicide if it means I can sleep in past five a.m.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kirishima plopped down on the couch, reaching for the remote and lowering the volume. He was watching a documentary on Red Riot. “You say that now...”
Aoyama rolled his eyes, sitting down on the chaise.
The man in the tv — Red Riot’s old sidekick — leaned towards the interviewer just like he’d done every time since Kirishima ordered this DVD two months ago. This was the seventh time Aoyama had seen it.
“He was like that old Red,” three voices rang out in the apartment in perfect unison, “rushing headfirst into anything. No fear.”
“How many times does that make?”
“A healthy amount.” Kirishima retorted. “Have you been talking to Bakugou? Because he has a trunk of All Might figurines under his bed. And I know he cleans them at least twice a week.”
What?
Aoyama blinked.
Kirishima blinked.
”You did not hear that.”
”I didn’t.” Aoyama couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “At least not until the time is right.”
”Dude....” Kirishima ran a heavy hand over his face. “Seriously, he’ll kill me. Like for real. Dead dead.”
No, he wouldn’t.
”No, he won’t.” Aoyama said.”But I’ll spare you the yelling.”
Kirishima rolled his eyes, leaning further into the couch. “You’re too kind, sir.”
”You can pay me back.” Aoyama crossed his right leg over his left, leaning back. Might as well get comfortable. “I need intel.”
Kirishima looked at him for a moment, sitting up. “Okay. Serious. What’s up?”
“Amore, my friend.” Kirishima looked confused, which was to be expected — his brain was probably turning to goo from the radio wave feast he’s been on. “Uraraka. Bakugou.”
”Oh...!” His face lit up. “Why didn’t you just start with that? I thought this was a 976.”
976...
”The fuck or die protocol?!” Kirishima nodded and Aoyama was overcome with the urge to throw a pillow at him. Quirked out and all. “And why would I be here?”
”Don’t act like you didn’t have a thing for me in high school.” Aoyama didn’t know that Kirishima could wiggle his eyebrows but it was a piece of information he could have lived without. “I’m flattered, obviously. You’re picky.”
"I have a boyfriend."
"He's in China right now, right?" Kirishima shrugged. "I wouldn't judge. I don't know what Hitoshi is into."
"Not that," Aoyama said.
Power play? Maybe.
Cuckholding? No way.
"I'm just staking my claim as the number two of the shiniest, pickiest gay man in the whole city."
”Oh get off it.” Aoyama retorted, the smallest of a blush sitting on his face for the two week period when he’s been entranced by Kirishima sheer mass. “I’m not picky.”
”You are.” Kirishima said. He places his hand on his chest in an act of sincerity, and Aoyama doesn't even feel bad that it requires extra effort. “But that’s okay. It was a pleasure to have once have been considered.”
”Whatever, "Aoyama pouted, "you’re welcome.”
“So what’s this about Uraraka and Bakugou?” He asked, pausing the tv. “You catch them going at it on the staff room table yet?”
”First of all — gross.” Aoyama cringed. “Second of all — I wouldn’t be here if I did. I'd be filing unemployment.”
”I guess that’s true. So what can I do for you?”
“I think we’ve struggled with watching our idiots be bad at relationships for long enough — I, for one, want to finally get to the conclusion of this saga.”
“Don’t let Bakugou hear you call him an idiot. But agreed.”
”So I need information.”
Kirishima looked at him blankly. “Information about what?”
Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d dropped the ball in the best friend meddling department.
”About the elusive White Hippopotamus rampaging through the city.”
“Okay, dude, no need.” Kirishima crossed his arms, an action that was done much to slow to be anything other than comical. “That was one time.”
”Ochako is my best friend. Bakugou is yours.” Aoyama said, tone serious. “Which means I know that under all the faith you have in him being able to make his own decisions in life and all — you want him to be happy. I want Ochako to be happy. They both have great careers, great friends. But she’s been silently yearning after your tacky blonde idiot for the better part of five years now.” He shrugged. “Maybe part of me thought she’d get over it back when we were in high school but she didn’t. I think she loves him. And if she loves him I need to make sure he’s not just going to waste her time or break her heart.”
“And Bakugou?” Kirishima started. “He’s been in love with her since first year when she was mooning over Midoriya. How do I know she won’t hurt him?”
It was Aoyama’s turn to cross his arms, as he leaned back into the chair studying the hard face in the usually cheery redhead.
“I suppose you don’t.”
A beat passed, and they both sat there across from each other like parents talking about unruly children rather than adults talking about adults. But maybe that’s what best friends were for? To parent you and advocate for you when you weren’t even around.
Kirishima sighed. He was gonna get a fucking earful for meddling but...
“What do you wanna know?”
🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝
If one was to look up idiot in the dictionary, you probably wouldn’t expect to see Bakugou’s picture considering the whole valedictorian and secret geek thing. You’d probably expect Denki or Mineta. Hell, if we’re talking Algebra One, Two, or Three you might even expect to see Aoyama’s dazzling face smiling up at you.
But after talking to Kirishima, it was clear that Bakugou trademark smirk belonged right next to the dictionary entry with ‘prime example’ written underneath.
“Kat-suki!” That knowledge filled Aoyama with hope as he walked into the crowded gym, Bakugou’s given name rolling off his tongue with what was probably the confidence of a soon to be dead man. But whatever. He was on a mission. “Katsuuuuuki?”
The sounds of a small explosion rang through the gym. None of the other gym-goers paid it any mind, however, probably used to the sound as background noise but it helps lead Aoyama to the weight rack at the back of the gym where the sweaty blonde awaits.
Bakugou was fuming (but he was always kinda fuming so it didn’t really phase Aoyama anymore than usual).
“Do you want to die, Sparkles?” He whipped his hands on the towel next to him on the bench, weight forgotten at his feet. “Better yet you tryna get everyone else in this shitty gym killed?! If I blow up it’ll be your fault, dumbass.”
Aoyama couldn’t help but stroke the beast.
“Don’t tell me Ground Zero has all the control of a flustered child?” Aoyama faked a gasp, holding a hand to his face for the extra drama of it all. “Quoi qu’on fasse?”
“I’m literally going to kick your sparkly ass into next fucking year,” Bakugou growled, threateningly. A few people looked at him wearily, and Aoyama didn’t blame them. Hell if he wasn’t about to make Bakugou’s whole year he probably would have joined them. “What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want?!”
“Believe it or not, Bakugou. I just want you to be happy.” Aoyama considered that. “Well, actually I want Ochako to be happy — first and foremost — because you still scare me a tad, Bakugou, and honestly you aren’t exactly the nicest man around or the easiest to deal with... although Kirishima seems to manage...” Another growl echoed through the air.”Anyway as a byproduct of Ochako’s happiness I guess you’ll be happy too so...”
”You wanna make some fucking sense before I pummel you with this dumbbell.”
”Très savage.” Aoyama said, “You would never!”
”I wouldn’t?” Bakugou quirked an eyebrow, his whole demeanor reading “Do you know who the fuck I am?” in big bold letters.
”No, you wouldn’t.” Aoyama was confident, standing there in the gym in a fully bedazzled T-shirt and ripped skinny jeans.”For one simple reason. Or two, I suppose.”
”Enlighten me.”
“For one. Ochako wouldn’t stand for it.”
That shut him up. Good.
”And two...” This was the part that could end with him burned to a crisp in his brand new Saint Laurent boots. “You, Bakugou Katsuki, are...”
Aoyama paused. Bakugou looked well and truly fed up.
”An idiot.”
The world moved so quickly that Aoyama would have thought he'd fainted if it wasn't for Bakugou glaring down at him, leg still extended from the sweep he'd used to send Aoyama flat on his ass.
Okay. He had kinda expected that. But still...
Ow.
"Unnecessary," Aoyama didn't bother getting back up, leaning back on his forearms. His belt reflecting the fluorescent lights of the gym. "Is that how you treat your friend, coworker, and the person who will fulfill your high school fantasies?"
Bakugou scoffed. "You're not my type."
"Gorgeous? Stunning? Radiant?" Aoyama teased. "Or do you just have something against blondes, Bakugou? A little self hate to go with your enormous hubris?"
"You ever shut up?"
"Twice a month. Usually while online shopping."
Bakugou moved to leave.
"Okay! Okay!" Aoyama waved frantically. "I was just joking, mon colère ami."
"Get on with it," Bakugou actually sat back down, surprisingly," I ain't got all day."
The sparkly blonde fought the urge to remind Bakugou that, yes, he did in fact have all day because today was Saturday and the first weekend they'd seen since being locked in Miruki's office for a month straight which he was using to work out - again. On purpose.
"Agreed. I don't want to be in here for a second longer than I have to. Three beef heads walked past me and I lost six rhinestones." His face told Aoyama that Bakugou did not give even one singular fuck, so he continued. " What do you think about Ochako?"
"Why?" He furrowed his brow at that. "Is something wrong with, Cheeks?"
If being lovesick but unwilling to do anything about it was a problem then...
"Depends on who you ask." Aoyama said, "But I asked you first. What do you think about her?"
"What is this?" Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, glared back full force. "Some weird show of possession?"
So it was true.
"Bakugou," He was gentle here, "do you think me and Ochako are... together."
The silence tinged with what felt like a dropper of jealousy filled the air. Bakugou was in full glare mood now, and Aoyama would have been scared if the whole thing was a few shades less hilarious.
"Wow," Aoyama was in genuine awe. "You really are stupid."
"What the fuck did yo-"
"No," Aoyama interrupted, one hand stopping the hot head from continuing. "I'm going to tell you why you're stupid, hold on."
Bakugou shut up.
It probably had more to do with the rage he felt leaving him numb - and signaling that Aoyama had very little time left amongst the living - than anything but Aoyama was going to take what he could get. Especially where Bakugou was concerned.
"Bakugou. Look at me. " He started slowly, pointing at himself. Rhinestones shirt. Ripped jeans. Pride pin attached to a pride-themed fanny pack. "I am gay."
"What?"
"I'm gay."
"I fucking heard you. Since the fuck when?"
Aoyama blinked at that. "Birth?"
Once again, Aoyama has managed to leave Bakugou speechless.
"You know Hitoshi and I are dating right?"
"Hitoshi's gay? Since when?!"
God. How did someone so observant on the field end up so blind in everyday life?
Aoyama was starting to wonder is Bakugou even knew that Monoma had the hots for him back at UA.
Not that Aoyama was going to be the one to tell him that.
He had one foot in the grave as it stood now. He wasn't taking a beating for that gremlin.
"Years before we became a thing," Aoyama said. He had to ask. "Why would you think Ochako and I were together?"
Bakugou shrugged, face having fallen out of his usual scowl. He looked like his world had been shifted ninety degrees.
"I don't fucking know. It seems stupid now." It was always stupid, but Aoyama wasn't going to interrupt his breakthrough. "You guys are always together. Laughing and shit. And I know you spent nights in each other's rooms back at school."
"Yeah," Aoyama rolled his eyes. "Painting our nails and talking about the boys we liked. Boys both of us liked."
"Oh my god." Seems he was starting to realize how dumb he was.
Good. Growth, Ochako would like that.
"You do know boys and girls can be in the same room without anything happening right?" Aoyama said, "I mean you and Ochako do it all the time."
"That's fucking work." He said as if that was important and Miruki's building didn't have closets. It did. Toshi and Aoyama would know. "If I was you... And Cheeks..."
"Stop before I get a mental image." Aoyama shuddered.
Bakugou looked at him, seriously.
"You aren't dating her."
"I'm dating him. And only one specific him."
"You never were?"
"Nope."
"Not at the training camp third year?"
He knew Bakugou was being extra salty with him for some reason back then. "Nope."
"All those Valentine days?"
"I like chocolate." Aoyama shrugged. "And she made you chocolate too. Terrible little chilly things - I accidentally had one and couldn't feel my tongue for a week, Bakugou."
"And White day?"
"Friends give friends chocolate, Bakugou. It's not sordid."
"Heart-shaped? Come on."
"Yes, heart-shaped. She's my best friend." He ignored the fact that Bakugou remembered that detail. "And I'm gay."
"...Not even for Ochako."
"Not even for Ochako." Aoyama laughed. Bakugou was really far gone huh? "Though hearing that you think my best friend could turn a gay man straight is a testament to how far gone you are for her. Ten points from me."
Bakugou humphed.
"So, she's single..."
"And," Aoyama nodded, leaning in closer to Bakugou, "you didn't hear this from me but she likes you. Pinched gremlin face and all."
Aoyama feels more than sees Bakugou run past him. He must be out of the door in seconds because there is no retort when he screams "wear protection!" at his retreating figure in front of all the patrons of his gym.
The sound of a boom and the subsequent rattling of equipment confirms it.
Aoyama leans back.
"You’re welcome, Ochako".
🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼🏃🏼 🏃🏼
Aoyama
-there is an orange lingerie set i stashed under your dresser. wear it
1:23 pm
Ochako
-what?
1:23 pm
Aoyama
-you have less than ten minutes. he's airborne.
1:24 pm
Ochako
-you didnt.
1:23 pm
Aoyama
-oh but i did. you're welcome
1:23 pm
-eight minutes
-the apartment is yours tonight and tomorrow. i'll crash at toshi's. see you twinkling and sore on monday.
-1:22 pm
Ochako
-aufglhauef ahefIEFij
-I NEED TO SHAVE
1:22 pm
Aoyama
-fyi the piggy bank in the living room is filled with condoms! don't make me and uncle yet!
1:24 pm
Ochako
-wtf
-i put my change in there. wierdo.
1:24 pm
Aoyama
- just go get laid.
-love you
1:25 pm
Ochako
-love you too
-thank you
1:25 pm
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
Aoyama
-double dates are a go!
1:30 pm
Toshi
-i'm not letting bakugou near my movie night. just know that.
1:31 pm