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"Oh, looks like Todoroki-kun left his English book here!”
“Bakugou-kun, can you return it?”
“The fuck would I do that, Roundface?”
“Don’t be such a difficult child, you’re already going to bed anyways, aren’t you? his room is on the way!”
“I ain’t being difficult and I don’t have to do shit!”
“I think Todoroki will appreciate it, Kacchan, we have that English test tomorrow, maybe he wanted to study some more? Though it’s already evening, perhaps he’s gone to bed... unlikely though, considering these last few weeks...those dark circles under his eyes are really becoming prominent. It could be he’s not getting enough rest. Or it could be mental baggage...lately Todoroki-kun seemed a bit stressed, right? I wonder if it could be related to both factors? Maybe he can consult Shinsou-kun on methods to cope with erratic sleep patte- “
“Gosh, Deku, just hand it the fuck over,” Katsuki scoffed, absolutely unable to listen to the ever growing word-vomit anymore. A lot has changed in their three years in U.A but old habits die hard, or in Deku’s case, refuse to whither altogether.
That’s how Katsuki finds himself in front of Half n’ Half’s door, knocking loudly and successively, to no avail.
“The fuck’re you not answering - “ he rattles the handle and falls inside quite unexpectedly, barely avoiding faceplanting into tatami floor. In his defence, he didn’t predict the door would be unlocked, and upon the look on Todoroki’s rapidly paling face neither did he. Right now, he thinks listening to Deku in the first place and being his rude self might not have been the best methods to apply in this situation.
The situation in which dual colored eyes grow wide and prominent in a shock-frozen face; in which the sight that graces him is one that usually requires locked doors. Locks, bolts, maybe a later hour of the night, a private house and not the goddamn dorms, something. Katsuki is not sure if the other is even stupider than he thought or maybe impossibly braver.
A few moments pass between them, both staring at each other wordlessly, when finally Todoroki seems to snap out of his paralysis. A mask of indifference tries to settle over his features and for once, judging by the tension in his jawline and the flaring nostrils, Katsuki notices just how hard it is for him to try and pull it off.
"Bakugou. It's not what it looks like," he promises in a breathy tone. It does things to Katsuki's stomach but he'll ponder them later. More pressing issues await.
It takes longer than he’d like to admit for his brain to kickstart, trying to work around the syllables that should not say Todoroki in girls' clothes is my new religion and answer accordingly. "This is not you wearing a frilly shirt and a fucking skirt?" is what comes out instead.
Well, he tried.
He lifts one eyebrow, scanning the boy in front of him.
Todoroki being Todoroki keeps trying to pretend not to be affected, but Katsuki detects the involuntary hunch to his shoulders anyways. Shit, Katsuki knows he’s not exactly subtle but Half n’ Half should be accustomed by now to his brash nature, shouldn’t he? Katsuki is incapable of silk-gloving anything.
Annoyed, he huffs.
He just wanted to give him the damn book, not to issue a fucking pep talk, but he was just that generous.
"Why the fuck are you putting green cotton frill with fucking orange velvet? That's nasty," he admonishes in a rough voice and crosses his arms over his chest. There. Now the bastard knows Katsuki doesn’t give a shit about his hobbies, same way he doesn’t give a shit about anything that’s not him getting stronger and better and becoming the best of the best.
Todoroki stares at him with the same stare he levels at Aoyama's French.
God, why are the pretty boys always so dumb?
"You're not...disturbed?" his eyebrows draw together, head tilting slightly. Red hair falls from his messy bun into a blue eye and Katsuki's stomach does not summersault at all.
Instead he barks a laugh. "The only disturbing thing is that fucking abomination of color coordination, Halfy. I don't give a shit about what you do in your free time," he turns to leave - book still in hand - because fuck that...whatever the fuck this is, he’s got better things to do than burn the image of his fellow classmate in a miniskirt into his retinas - but what Todoroki says next stops him.
"I want to compete in the beauty pageant," he mutters quickly, stilted words in a fast staccato.
It's not the first time Katsuki looks at a nervous Todoroki, but this amount of self-consciousness is new to him. This is disturbing, witnessing the stoic boy, undeterred by mostly anything (besides his shitty old man, but Katsuki backs him up 100% on that one), shift his weight from leg to leg, fix him with that scared reindeer look. Why is Katsuki of all people on the receiving end of this?
And all of that, because of the beauty pageant?
Which -
Huh. Todoroki in the beauty pageant - maybe wearing a long dress to compliment his height, his long hair up in a ponytail - or maybe a short dress to show his toned, strong legs, with that messy bun-
"That's-! The hell are you telling me that for?!" he half shouts, eyes jumping over Todoroki's form.
Ultimately it's not the smartest thing to say - the other boy casts his eyes down, turning away from him slightly. Witnessing Half n’ Half go from cautious but truthful to this - Katsuki experiences a jolting moment of clarity. Todoroki was always a mystery in the Feelings and Emotive Faces department, but Katsuki can clearly recognize this particular human emotion. And he doesn’t like it one fucking bit.
Todoroki’s nimble fingers crush the ends of his shirt and he turns to take it off. Yes, his brain supplies shamefully. No, you fucking asshole, he slaps himself mentally. Wrong timing.
"Let's do it."
He takes a deep breath, fixing Todoroki with an unwavering glare.
Why he's doing this and who's going to be accountable for the outcome - a question for when he doesn't have Todoroki in this confusing state, looking at him with his stupidly round, enticing eyes.
"...What?"
"Fucking hell, Icyhot, did your quirk finally fry your brain?! I'm saying," he shouts, "I'm signing you up for the stupid pageant and you're gonna fucking crush all them other bitches!"
This he shouts too. Good thing their idiot classmates are having their dumb movie night downstairs, way out of earshot.
Todoroki does his best impression of the innocent heroin in some b-class Shoujo manga, complete with big round eyes and coloring cheeks. The intended effect does not diminish at all, despite those characteristics appearing on a 5’9 feet tall double-quirk wielding made-to-order bastard of a brat that can end you with literally a flick of his pinky. Either one, really.
Katsuki needs to get the fuck out of there, fast.
"Why would you do that?"
And why would Katsuki do that? did he just offer to help the shithead without being asked to directly?
A momentary lapse of judgment and sanity, obviously.
Barely keeping his temper in check, he delivers the next words without much consideration, too enraged at the bumbling everything this scene is turning out to be.
"’Cause there ain't no one in this damn school who can be prettier than you, you fucking sad excuse of a stale Candy Cane!"
The cat is out of the bag, and Katsuki wasn't even aware he had one to begin with. Oh well, he harrumphs internally, sometimes you just have to roll with it. It's not like he lied.
This time he's walking out of here and nothing will stop him, cause he ain't picking up the collateral damage his outburst must have created.
The blush in his cheeks? Nothing to do with it.
"Bakugou."
God have mercy, what now, he did not sign up to participate in this free fall from hell.
His hands shake minutely. "What."
"Let's do it."
The change of his voice beckons Katsuki to re-establishes eye contact.
Todoroki's hands have stopped fumbling, and now he looks at him directly. This is a much more familiar version of the boy he knows; collected and focused. Just like before an important test or an elaborated hero exercise. Only those events never color his face such a deep red, but whatever.
The effect is somehow lost, though, due to the horrible clothes he’s in. Katsuk is again glaring at his offending outfit, vowing to A.P shoot it into the next fucking century the first chance he’ll get to put his hands on the abominable garments.
For now, though, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“We have a lot of fucking work here, princess.”
______
“Kacchan! you’re here to help too?”
If you get into one more fight with him, I’m kicking you out the hero course, Kid.That’s what Aizawa-sensei had told him at some point in the past; it became his mantra for dealing with the nerd when he felt he was about to burst. Coupled with some much needed breathing exercises, Katsuki can confidently testify he’s now graduated from wanting to strangle the nuisance 95% of the time to 91.5%. Gradual progress, his therapist drilled into him.
“What are you doing here,” he growls and shoulders past him, flinging himself down on Todoroki’s tatami. The Candy Cane asked him to come over to discuss his candidacy in further details, but never did he mention Deku to be a part of this operation too. He sneers at him, but Deku only sends him a small, placating smile.
“Izuku is helping me too,” Todoroki supplies in a strict voice, one that leaves no room for arguing and sits himself graciously on the other side of the low table. He’s wearing That Black Turtleneck, the one that highlights his cheekbones and contrasts nicely with his long hair, that is now pulled back in a high ponytail, leaving chunks of shorter bangs to frame his face.
It’s one of Katsuki’s favourite hairdos, but the bastard and nerd need not know that.
There’s a quiet, tense moment in which Todoroki fixes him with a stern look, like Katsuki’s a fucking dog who needs to keep patient in front of an offered treat; Deku fidgets and looks between them, and he grinds his teeth together. Fine. If the Peppermint Bastard wanted the nerd around, so be it.
“Whatever, idiots, let’s get this going.”
Deku turns his green fucking lanterns at him, a friendly smile on his freckled face. Katsuki rolls his eyes at him, turning to their main issue.
“So. What’s the plan?”
Todoroki fits a disobedient piece of hair back behind his ear. It keeps falling forwards, a rebellious, long, annoyingly shiny white lock that slipped from his ponytail and what’s with all the thick saliva suddenly pooling in his mouth?
“I don’t know,” Todoroki admits, looking between the two of them. As Katsuki tries to convince his eyes to leave Todoroki’s ear and the hair now sitting snuggly behind it, Deku has already whipped a new notebook from thin fucking air and slaps it open on the table.
“If no one has any objections, I think we can work with a step-devised plan leading up to the day of the contest, but in order to get there we should think about the essential steps. Kacchan, what do you - “
“Dress, shoes, makeup, special routine, hair, delivery, sign up,” he rattles off, and Deku starts hastily writing. “Not particularly in this order,” he leans back on his hands, scrutinizing Todoroki. He’s looking at him with big doey eyes, mostly wondrous and completely uncalled for, the way he has done the other night as well. The lock of hair falls into his face once again.
Katsuki swallows and motions to Deku. “Make it two dresses,” he adds, and Deku lifts an eyebrow. Katsuki stands his ground. “We need a backup plan, in case our princess here has an accident,” he leers, though everyone knows Todoroki hasn’t burned any clothes with his left side for over a year now, but it’s best to be safe, right?
“I’m not going to burn anything,” Half n’ Half echoes the truth, eyebrows drawing together. Fuck, why does his throat has to look so long and tempting in that goddamn turtleneck?
“Last night you set the fucking toaster in our kitchen on fire, dickhead. Another dress,” he bites out decisively, and Deku clicks his pen shut.
“The electricity was faulty,” Todoroki mumbles, but at least he has the decency to flush. And fix Katsuki with a glare, like an afterthought, but Katsuki just glares back, nostrils flaring, fists clenching on the table for good measure. Yeah, he has this down to an artform from the age of five, ain't no second-hand strawberry shortcake gonna glare him down.
“Aaaalrighty then,” Deku quips, and snaps his notebook shut. “I’m going to go over these, and we’ll meet here tomorrow at the same time, okay?” he gets up to leave, and soon he’ll be out the door and Katsuki will be left here alone with Todoroki and his stupid fucking face and -
“Yeah, what the fuck ever,” he grumbles and rises too. They filter out before Todoroki can say anything more than a quiet good night, and when they’re by the stairs Katsuki finally lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in.
Shit, it’s already way past his bedtime, right?
Sleep is exactly what he needs to reboot and cleanse his head from all the mental images of Todoroki in various dresses -
“Kacchan, a moment of your time, if you will.”
“What the fuck do you want? And why do you sound like a fucking dad?”
“I know it’s none of my business - “
“If something ain’t your fucking business then why are you - “
“Kacchan,” The nerd repeats, stopping directly in front of him. They’re almost the same height now, with Katsuki towering only a few, meagre, sad inches above, too fucking close to properly glare him down. “I’m telling you this as your friend - don’t bristle, okay? But maybe, just perhaps, you should think about telling Todoroki how you feel?”
His mouth is open mid-curse, but nothing comes out. Why is Deku saying the things he’s saying? What the absolute shit?
His forehead starts to hurt from all the deep scowling. In front of him, green lines start to shine over Deku’s skin.
“Do not use One for All to run away again you piece of trash!”
He’s gone before Katsuki can deliver the explosion heating in the palm of his hand.
“Uhm, Bakubro, can you maybe fight another time? people here are trying to sleep.”
“Shut the fuck up Tape Face before I kick you in the fucking teeth!”
“Sorry, not my thing. Good night,” and he shuts the door before Katsuki can say anything back. Annoyed, confused and maybe a tiny bit overwhelmed, he storms off to the upper floor.
How he feels? What the fuck did Deku mean?
By his door, his phone pings in his pocket.
22:34 [Deku]: just be honest with each other.
Katsuki’s brow furrows. Too baffled and tired to decipher what’s on Deku’s a-hundred-miles-a-minute freak-brain, he texts back a solid, non-conclusive reply.
22:35 [Me]: mind your own fuckn business nerd
22:35 [Deku]: good night to you too, Kacchan.
Sleep. Sleep will sort this whole mess out, and tomorrow he’ll feel like a new person.
______
Apparently, sleep doesn’t sort the mess in his head. In fact, not only does it not help, but it makes the situation worse; because Katsuki wakes up with a raging boner and the thoughts of Todoroki’s smirking face as he -
Nope. Nope, not helping, not fucking helping at all.
He slinks out of bed. 5:27 A.M his clock reads and fuck if that ain’t early even for him.
...But, it means the showers will be empty, and it’s never bad to get an early start and maybe cook a nice breakfast while he’s at it - so Katsuki gathers his things quickly and makes his way down the hall. Better make the most out of this miserable situation.
He really, really doesn’t want to go there, but with a lack of a perfectly awake brain to counter his deviating thoughts he can’t help a specific question from blaring in his mind like an alarm - what the hell was with that dream?
So lost in his thoughts, he misses the sound of a tap turning off.
“Fuck,” he groans as he gets rid of his clothes. His boner has gone down to half mast, but it’s not enough, and he doesn’t feel like blue balling himself at the asscrack of dawn. There’s enough time to jack one off here real quick, right? Nobody else is here -
“Oh. Hello there.”
Except for fucking Half n’ Half, of course, because why wouldn’t he be the only other person awake in their dorms right now, and why wouldn’t he take a shower at five thirty in the fucking morning?
From all the miserable jokes life threw at him until now, this must be one of the worst.
“What are you doing here?” Katsuki stares. And stares, cause there's a naked glistening chest right there and it has two pink buds of nipples and Todoroki’s hair is wet and long, plastered onto his clean, smooth face, trailing over his lithe back and Katsuki can’t stop fucking staring but it’s okay cause Todoroki is also staring and -
Shit.
“Uhm. Bakugou. Is that - “
“Don’t. Don’t fucking say anything.”
“But - “
His mother always yelled at him that he’s even worse-tempered in the mornings and she was right - he can’t keep it in, damnit. Better be the one in control of the situation than let his ears be graced with Todoroki’s next words, God forbid. “What, never seen a boner in your fucking life you fuckwit? Want to take a fucking picture?”
“Can I?”
Katsuki sputters in indignation. The little shit - he’s - he’s -
The blond is too flabbergasted to even add anything and naturally they lapse into a very fitting awkward silence. Was he joking? Did Todoroki Shouto of all people finally find his sense humour on a Tuesday morning in the dorm’s showers thanks to Katsuki’s boner from hell, or was this just his usual self?
Todoroki’s head lolls to the side and he keeps looking and not saying anything else. Katsuki cannot handle this right now, fuck, what is going on, so he marches with a straight back past him, tall and proud, no hunch to his shoulders - he's the first in their class, the best of U.A, no embarrassing encounter with a hard on and the reason for the hard on staring at him will make him quell.
Only problem is, he can't hear Icyhot's footsteps, which means he's still fucking present.
Katsuki reels around, already inside a stall, glare intensifying by a tenfold. Todoroki definitely misses it though, with the way his eyes are still trained on Katsuki’s junk, and if nothing changes soon he might not be able to hold himself together.
"Shouldn't you get the fuck outta here?"
"Hmmm," he hums, but makes no move to leave.
Exasperated, Katsuki half-shouts, "Is there a reason you're still here? Wanna give me a fucking hand?!"
Really, he should have learned his lesson regarding rhetorical questions with this specific freak.
Todoroki’s eyes finally rise from his boner to his face. Katsuki, as usual, cannot read his features but at least he has functioning ears, so when Todoroki says "if you want to," without a hint of mortification or self awareness painting his features, it’s the blond’s turn to give him his best impression of a drowning fish, complete with the bugging eyes.
Katsuki slams the door in his face. Around him the water sizzle; deep breaths help regulate the sparking in his palm, but do nothing to the cacophony in his head. Is he that ignorant or just mental?
Sadly, this is beyond his realm of expertise. Between Deku’s cryptic behaviour from last night, his odd dream and Todoroki’s bluntness and/or plain irrational behaviour, his abilities to cope have dwindled down to none. As always, it’s hard to admit, but...he just might need help to sort this out.
______
Due to their usual load of school, homework and hero practice, finding a free afternoon to go shopping is no easy feat. A whole week after they first sat in Todoroki’s bedroom, under Aizawa’s suspicious glare and exasperated consent, they’re finally getting somewhere.
Or they could be, if the idiot duo would just let him pick Todoroki’s outfit instead of trying to permanently blind him with their heinous suggestions.
“How about this one?”
“That would be a great pick if you intend to make him the loser.”
“So mean, Kacchan!”
They’re by the dress rack of a random store in the open mall, which means Katsuki needs to reign in his shouts and try his best to not get them kicked out. I’m doing this to prevent Todoroki from totally embarrassing himself, he reminds himself, unconcerned at the moment with the nagging fluttering of his heart. He doesn’t want to see that fleeting, self-doubting look crossing Halfy’s features again. They might not be the best of friends (...or friends at all? Are they friends? Since when does he care?) but Todoroki is immensely strong, utterly beautiful in the most infuriating way, and Katsuki would be damned if he felt like anything less.
Todoroki materializes behind him, looking over his shoulder at the dress Deku is holding. “What’s wrong with it?”
It looks like Satan had a bastard child with a fucking peacock, he thinks, eyeing the ugly shiny material blinging at him in purples and greens. But he opts to say something different, because only solid reason will convince Deku and prevent excess conflict; contrary to their belief, Katsuki has other things to do today, and this is getting nowhere.
“The colors won’t be good for you. Green is a complimentary color to red but the purple will just mess everything with your hair,” he points at the mangled pattern. “And it’s way too flashy. I think with your looks we should go more solid, something to accentuate your natural beauty.”
The music in the store is really fucking cheesy, he notices in the silence that follows. Deku eyes him with newfound appreciation, his smile filled with determination. The lifting of his eyebrows, though, might indicate something else.
“What,” He growls while ripping the offending dress from his hands and throwing it on a random counter.
“Ah, nothing,” the nerd mutters behind a conspiring smile like the fucking evil green gnome that he is, turning next to Todoroki. “Did you find anything you like?”
Todoroki blinks twice, gaze still on Katsuki and breath coming out in puffs of - is that steam? what’s gotten his quirk regulation out of balance now of all times?
“Todoroki-kun?”
Breathing back to invisible he looks at Deku and shakes his head. “No, not really.”
It’s Katsuki’s turn to sigh.
“Let’s try another place,” He concludes and slouches away. Behind him there’s a quiet did something happen? But Todorki doesn’t answer Deku’s question. Or maybe he does, Katsuki can’t know, too busy putting distance between them and searching the street for anything relevant.
None of them brought up the shower incident, and it makes his skin crawl with unrest and his eyes to avoid Todoroki’s. Keeping in mind the nature of their useless verbal interactions, Katsuki is applying the preservative ‘if we don’t talk about it it didn’t happen’ method this time, considering he can’t predict the other’s behaviour and simply yelling his ears off proved to conjure the opposite of the desired effect.
Doesn’t mean he can’t try to decipher this incident with visual intel. He only got so far as noticing Todoroki’s eyes on him on more than one occasion, yet it didn’t lend him magical knowledge as to what the fuck was he thinking. Also, he couldn't pin this behaviour to anything out of the ordinary in particular, since from a historical point of view the guy has the tendency to stare; and also it meant Katsuki was looking at him at least as much as Todoroki did, since he caught all those looks, and then what does that mean? (Though Katsuki is doing it for scientific reasons, obviously).
At this point he can’t even imagine Half n’ Half’s reaction if he was to confront him, frankly, considering his abnormal behaviour that morning. He couldn’t rule out the bastard shrugging, saying something ambiguous or unbelievable in his bored tone, and leaving Katsuki baffled yet again.
There should be a solution to this, something he’s missing right now.
And then he sees The Dress. It catches his eye between the passing people from a store on the other side of the street, and all at once the bothersome thoughts are wiped away.
“Kacchan, we were thinking of maybe trying the mall next - “
“That’s it,” he cuts him off, eyes still burning into the dress. The bastard will look perfect in it, he knows it for sure.
“Uhm,” green curls suddenly block his view, “What is?”
Deku squeaks when Katsuki forcefully turns him around, holding him by the shoulders. “That’s the dress,” he points, directing his eyes to the right one.
Todoroki stops by his right shoulder and stares too. “You think?”
“We’re getting it,” he says in his no-nonsense tone, making his way to the store.
“Bakugou, wait!”
But it’s too late, as he’s already inside, asking the overly-polite attendant for the same dress from the window, and she turns to search in the back.
Meanwhile he edges closer, checking the price tag and - oh. That’s a lot of money.
Green eyes turn to saucers as they catch the multiple zeros at the end.
“Isn't it a bit expensive?” Deku starts to sweat, as if just looking at it might cost him money. Katsuki rolls his eyes and tsks. What matters is that Todoroki’s face is trained on the dress, eyes growing big and palms reaching out. Yeah, they're getting the dress.
“Oi, Icyhot, got a credit card on you?”
Deku starts choking but Todoroki just nods, mumbles “my father’s,” fingers touching the garment softly. A minute gasp may or may not leave his lips.
“Perfect,” Katsuki grins a predatory smile.
(They don’t end up buying more than one dress on account of the astronomic price tag, and Deku finally stops looking like he’s going to faint.)
______
“Seems like your old man was finally useful for something,” Katsuki mutters idly while sorting out his makeup. What will look the best with the dress? Definitely some eyeliner to make his dual tones pop out; some light shimmer on his cheeks...and no lipstick, since they aimed for non-extravagant, and Todoroki was already pretty enough without anything added.
Before he has time to think about why his mind keeps tacking the word ‘pretty’ to Todoroki nowadays instead of ‘rival that I would like to ground into dust’, the other teen beckons him to turn around with a call of his name.
It’s breathtaking the second time, just like the first.
When Todoroki walked out of the stall wearing the dress for the first time, Katsuki might have had a tiny, friendly aneurysm, but at least he didn’t outright gasp and flailed pathetically like Deku.
“You look stunning, Todoroki-kun!”
Blue and grey turned to them in what was almost a bashful manner. Katsuki was mostly speechless, but he pulled himself together remarkably fast, patting his own shoulder for the right choice.
Now he’s almost speechless again, and the room becomes just a tad stuffy. Todoroki does look absolutely stunning in the blue and silver dress. It has two layers: a dark blue for the bodice with a heart-shaped cut on his chest, fabric flowing and fluttering from the waist down to the floor. Above it a fine, sheer, see-through layer is attached, covering the whole of the blue part and more, scaling his skin and ending in a sleeveless turtleneck. Intricate silvery embroidery spans most of the dress, concentrating mainly on the center of his chest and then scatters all around. It looks like he’s covered in stars, shining on his fair skin and spilling into a night-blue sky.
Non-extravagant his brain echoes in what is a suspiciously critique voice. Yeah, he doesn’t give a flying fuck. It’s probably more fitting to a much formal event, since Todoroki looks downright regal, but they are aiming for the crown, so it’s probably a good call.
Katsuki just has to learn to control his breathing better around him when he looks like that.
“Spending his money has never felt this satisfying,” Todoroki allows a small smirk, walking over to sit by Katsuki. They’re in the blond’s room this time, aiming to find the best makeup and hair-do for the dress. To Katsuki’s demand, Todoroki swept it out of the way into his messy bun, pulling the front locks behind his ears as much as they’d go, allowing him the most access to his face.
Suddenly his chest feels much tighter. He swallows thickly.
“Good,” he grits. “Sit here.”
Todoroki remains silent as Katsuki works, only occasionally asking about the process or stealing glances in the mirror. Being this close to the bastard’s face is almost surreal; he’s so achingly beautiful, it’s awfully distracting. He feels like he’s looking into his soul, rather than his face. For once the other seems at ease, relaxed under his fingers, the fingers that can summon combustions and bring destruction to life. Todoroki only closes his eyes, breathes a sigh, and Katsuki’s heart leaps to his throat.
When he pulls the last touch, he gestures to the mirror.
“What do you think?”
In his reflection, Todoroki’s mouth forms a little ‘o’, and he stares at himself for a long, long time. A slow smile starts creeping on his face, hands raising as if to touch it, but halting.
“You’re surprisingly good at this,” he breathes airily, eyes jumping over his features.
Katsuki averts his eyes, feeling flushed, but forces his voice to boast a mandatory “Yeah, I know.”
Todoroki snorts. “Modest as always, too.”
He wants to bicker, but his mouth doesn’t seem to be on good terms with his brain right now. It’s more probable he’d spit something embarrassing about how he wants to see Todoroki in a thousand other getups instead of bragging about his skills.
“Why did you start crossdressing?”
The question stumbles out of him, taking them both by surprise. With the heavy silence that follows it seems like Todoroki won’t answer and Katsuki feels rather stupid; he’s just helping the dude, they’re not suddenly best friends and he doesn’t owe him any explanations. But before the bitterness he feels can weigh him down too much, Todoroki opens his mouth.
“I don’t know. I just like it,” he says quietly, eyes far away. “My sister and I used to play dress up when we were little, before Endeavour took my siblings away,” he adds, something acid worming its way between the words. “I don’t remember much of it, but I remember enjoying it. And today I just...I feel free, like this. A bit like I’m someone else for a while, and not Todoroki Shouto.” He didn’t have to elaborate on the burdens that name was saddling him with for Katsuki to understand. “Or maybe this is more me than the Shouto they know.”
Katsuki lets that one sink in, both boys lost in thought.
“I like to put them on, sometimes, to feel different...and pretty,” he continues, rubbing his nape. “It’s mostly for myself. I’ve never felt the need for anyone else to see me like this. And now I’m entering a beauty pageant, though I’m not sure why,” he laughs, almost humourless. “Endeavour will be livid.”
“Fuck him,” Katsuki spits immediately, catching Todoroki’s mismatched stare in the mirror. “Your dad’s facial hair is constantly on fire, Todoroki, I don’t think he gets to call the shots about aesthetics.”
Todoroki snorts, but Katsuki is not done. “Who cares about that bastard, and about what you’re wearing? As long as you feel comfortable and kickass in it, you should do you.”
Icyhot shakes his head in return, mouth turning into a line. “Easier said than done.”
Oh, they were doing the pity routine again today? Fun. “Obviously, smartass,” Katsuki rolls his eyes, but then keeps them locked on the other’s. “It’s not going to be all sunshine and fucking rainbows, but you don’t back out just because it’s hard,” he points at him. “Since when did you start caring what others think? Screw them. You look fucking amazing, and if they won’t see it, then they’re fucking blind.”
Todoroki’s eyes grow wide. Katsuki sighs. This was getting old. “It ain’t the first time I said it, don’t act all fucking surprised.”
Whatever words the half and half boy has to say, they never make it out as Deku enters the room, rushing into a quick apology about extra training with All Might, and stops short as he catches sight of the two.
“Wow,” is his only comment, and the air becomes easier to breathe. Todoroki gives him a genuine smile, muttering a quiet, “thank you.”
Reluctantly, Katsuki forgoes his position by Todoroki’s side to give Deku some space. The nerd insisted he had an idea for a good hairdo, and Katsuki grudgingly lets him try in the beginning since he seems so eager, but hovers close, ready to take over when Deku finally cries and quits.
Which takes longer than expected, he’ll give him that.
“Move aside,” Katsuki barks, looking at the sad attempt of a braid. Sheesh, he had to do everything around here, didn’t he?
“That’s not how you do a messy milkmaid braid, moron,” he untangles the mess, letting the hair loose. Idly, he moves his fingers through the long strands, fishing for knots and untangling them gently. When his fingers skim over the base of Todoroki’s skull, the boy groans under his touch and Katsuki’s pants grow a fraction tighter.
Which leads to him thinking about his dream, and about their shower encounter, and he pulls just a bit too harshly, earning a stilted “Ow” from below.
Deku eyes him slowly, over the edge of the notebook he’s scribbling furiously in (supposedly ideas for Todoroki’s routine), and Katsuki gives him the finger.
He really, really needs to get some answers soon.
______
The confusion doesn’t clear up. On the contrary; after their little heart to heart, Katsuki can detect something more easy-going about Todoroki in regard to himself, so much so that even his idiot squad picks up on it. They pester him and question him until he promises to blast them all to hell; after a while they seem to drop it, but their hungry eyes signal them out.
And “them” happens more often; Todoroki coming over to show Katsuki something Inasa sent (as if he’s not a part of their hellspawned group chat Utsushimi forced him into); to ask him a question about homework or just to hang in the general area that coincidentally surrounds him. At breaks, after school, even in the evenings in the communal space. For reasons unknown, Katsuki tolerates his presence instead of characteristically yelling at him to get the fuck away, and he’s acutely aware of how weird that is of him.
There are no more deep conversations and that’s even worse, because that means there’s nothing to blame the increased beating of his heart for, and it doesn’t help untangle the mess in his head, only contributes to making it messier.
Two weeks later they’re sitting in Katsuki’s room again, working on their English homework when Deku storms in, slapping a formal looking paper on the table between them. Before Katsuki has the chance to chew him out, he blurts a loud “They approved! You’re officially enlisted in the contest, Todoroki-kun!”
A predatory smile unfurls on Katsuki’s lips. They’re not just playing around anymore, now they own a proper approval, and nothing will stop them from first place.
The tension in the room rises, palpable and exciting.
"You heard that, princess? We're gonna turn you into a motherfucking queen."
______
In the end, another Todoroki-related dream is the push he needs in order to finally seek out professional help. A strong push from a jagged cliff at the edge of a lava spitting volcano, but Katsuki is not scared in the face of a challenge.
It’s easy to shove everything out of his head when he’s pouring over chemistry formulas and algebra or sweating his tits off in an intense practice; the nightly dreams and the morning woods that followed, though? Ain’t so nice anymore. Now that Todoroki was somehow a constant presence in his life it also became quite awkward, and he’s still unsure as to what any of that means - besides him being a healthy teenager with an active imagination and a hungry libido. But this doesn’t feel like a purely physical appreciation of a pretty face in the crowd; Katsuki has symptoms. It’s weird and annoying and a general hindrance in the quest of taking over the number one spot.
And they still didn’t bring up the shower incident. Katsuki wasn’t avoiding it per se anymore, but he thought the other boy was in charge of breaching that subject. Naturally, time moved on regardless of their mutual silence, and with it his patience ran out.
And thus -
“K-kachan! what are you doing-!”
Katsuki slams the door behind him shut, eyeing the scene in front of him with obvious distaste, scowl sharpening. “I need your help, idiots.”
Kirishima’s usual grinning mouth is open in horror, mixed with a dash of annoyance, too shocked to even try and mask his stage of undress. “Bakubro, can you maybe knock?”
“That is so uncalled for, Kacchan, there’s this thing called basic respect and privacy, you know - “
“Yeah yeah, you can go back to sucking his dick later, I need your help.”
“I’m not sucking his dick!” he screeches indignantly, cheeks flaring up, while Kirishima loops a comforting arm around his middle. They look good together, if only for how they seem to balance each other; Deku can freak out and embody a tomato while Kirishima just rolls with the situation and calms him down.
“Oh right, you were just playing D&D semi-naked,” he scoffs. And then stops, because he didn’t come here to pick a fight, he came for answers, damnit, and riling up the person you seek is probably not helping the cause.
Instead he diverts the topic without giving them time to react. “What’s up with Todoroki?” he snaps, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. Deku still looks pissed and rattled with his sudden appearance, but at the mention of his best friend’s name he seems to grow calculated.
“What do you mean?”
Katsuk huffs. “Just - “ throws his hands in the air, searching for the right words. They don’t come easily. “Just - his fucking - everything!”
Both boys eye him. He knows he’s not making sense, but none of this does, and he’s getting way too worked up about one person - it’s just Todoroki, the ever-prominent enigma. The real question is why does it get under his skin so badly?
“Can you explain a bit more?”
Shitty Hair finally pulls a shirt on, putting an inch of a distance between him and Deku. While still grossly close they do look attentive at least, so Katsuki tries his utmost despite the turmoil rolling in his guts. How best to explain the situation?
“I don’t fucking know how - did you notice how weird he’s acting? He’s always been a fucking airhead but it’s like it’s gotten worse,” he spits, recalling the last toaster the bastard burned, the second one in two months, while he was watching Katsuki cook his own breakfast. “He’s always aloof, and weird, and just generally - fucking - “
Ugh, this is getting him fucking nowhere, as the confused crease in Kirishima’s brow indicates. Deku on the other hand looks positively scary with his sharp eyes following Katsuki’s body movements.
“What exactly about his behaviour would you consider weird?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he scoffs sarcastically, “Casually offering a fellow classmate a handjob is pretty fucking weird, Deku.”
A silence descends upon the room. Ultimately, it’s Kirishima who breaks it, sucking in a sharp breath.
“He what?”
“Did I not just say he offered me - “
“Yeah, we heard it the first time,” Kirishima looks torn between a grimace and a sharp grin. “But that’s a good th-”
A hand on his arm stops him mid-sentence. Green eyes regard him for a second, communicating something wordlessly, and then settle on the blond once more.
“Kacchan, what do you think about Todoroki-kun?”
Katsuki gives a non-impressed glare. “He’s a fucking idiot, is what I think. He always has this dumb look on his face, and he never makes any sense, he’s infuriatingly talented and strong and pretty but he doesn’t see that - “
Kirishima glances sideways at Izuku, but the boy signals him not to say anything as Katsuki continues grumbling. “And lately he’s gone from, like, being this badass, mysterious ice prince - don’t fucking breathe a word about this to him or I’ll end you - to this awkward, handjob offering pervert,” he breathes, realizing how long he’s been talking non-stop.
Deku fixes him with an unamused look. Katsuki huffs a breath, rolling his eyes. “I don’t mean the crossdressing part, idiot, I mean the handjob stuff. He just stared at my junk for eternity.”
“Why...how did that even happen - “
“That’s not the point,” the blond pinches his nose in agitation.
“Kacchan,” Deku starts again, voice stern yet rational. “How do you feel about Todoroki-kun?”
“Huh? I just answered - “
“How do you feel about him. Not what do you think.”
“What’s the difference? I think he’s an idiot - “
“It’s about channelling your view inwards, use the verb ‘feel’ - “
“What is this? You a local Dr. Phil rip-off now or some shit?”
You came here of your own volition, you ungrateful brat, his unwavering forest glare translates.
He’s right, fuck.
“Fine, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, finally dropping to sit on the floor in front of the bed. “I feel…”
He takes a moment to contemplate.
...How does he feel? He mostly feels hot around the other teen, on varying levels. He feels a nice sort of warmth in his belly when he watches him idle with his friends, a content smile on his face, or when he coos over cute cats on the internet; he feels a spiking heat when they fight and give their all to beat the other, explosions clashing with a roaring fire or blistering ice; he feels a white flame erupt, burning brightly in his lungs when he watches his long hair cascade around him, or when his milky white nape is on view underneath a high ponytail; and lately, there’s been this constant thrum in his limbs, like his blood was simmering, flowing faster when around him.
It isn’t just his looks, although he definitely wasn’t partial to those, as his dreams kindly revealed. He would have felt the same heat seeing him drool on his desk while sleeping during break, as past experience had taught him.
“Uh.”
Deku’s eyebrows rise as he nods slowly, a tentative, gentle half-smile on his face, like Katsuki is an extra slow kid catching up on a topic everyone already memorized by heart.
Shit.
“I like him, don’t I,” he asks, wonderous tone odd and foreign in his ears.
“Bakubro, that’s a good thing!”
He looks to the side, considering the flutter in his chest, the lightness he seems to suddenly feel.
“And why do you think he acts the way he does?”
Another beat of silence.
It’s like somehow he’s granted an outsider’s view, for a millisecond, but just enough to grasp the meaningful part, like someone cast a light that made it all very clear.
“Because…”
...Because he likes me too.
The cheek-splitting grin is enough for Deku, presumably, cause the nerd gives him a little curt nod, his trademark determined aura encouraging, despite Katsuki’s usual aversion to it.
Getting to his feet he nods at them, making his way out. “Sorry I cockblocked you,” he says, only slightly jeering, but mostly grateful.
“We weren’t doing anything!”
“Well don’t forget a condom while ‘not doing anything’,” and this time he turns around, scowling for a second before forcing a clipped “Thank you,” and then he slams the door shut.
Todoroki likes him. Huh.
______
With only three weeks left for the yearly school festival - and by proxy, the beauty contest - Katsuki’s free time vaporizes faster than girls around Mineta, leaving him exhausted by the end of each day. To his chagrin, his class decided yet again to go with their musical-dance performance, and what it means in actuality is a lot of rehearsals for Jirou’s new song, a lot of yelling, and not enough time to unwind.
There’s not enough time to go over Todoroki’s part in the contest as well, and they still don’t agree on the routine he should pick. Deku was, of course, on the bastard’s side even though every call Katsuki has made up until now was perfect and every suggestion they had - from dress to make-up to routine - was utter rubbish.
Tonight though, they decided to try the braid again, since Katsuki hadn’t mastered it yet. In a family of untameable dandelion heads there was no need to braid, tie, or brush; he was only a little out of his depth here, but he was going to give it his all as he promised.
An excuse to run away from another band practice and touch Todoroki’s soft hair? Definitely not.
Todoroki invites him into the room, face lacking any clear emotions. It’s only slightly suspicious, seeing as Katsuki’s pretty sure he can now detect more than ‘aloof’ and ‘dumb’ on his handsome features, but he lets it slide.
They settle on the bed and the floor, respectively. “You’re getting better,” The boy underneath him mutters after a while, eyes closed. There’s this thing Katsuki noticed - Todoroki likes it when he touches his hair, facial muscles smoothening under the attention.
Him, taking advantage of his newfound knowledge and perhaps brushing the long strands double the necessary time? With his calloused fingers rubbing on medically proven erogenous zones? Absolutely wrong.
“Yeah, well, anything’s better than your sad attempts,” he scoffs but it’s not eternity true and Todoroki definitely sees through his bullshit.
“At least I don’t end up looking like a dry crow’s nest on my best days.”
A deep, mediated, nosy breath through clenched teeth. He's not letting his ego get the best of him and sass back about it because he's not a complete jerk anymore, and he's long crossed the line between wanting to punch Todoroki's stupid face with his fist and wanting to punch it with his mouth. Insults might not get him there.
Have you told him yet? Deku had asked a few days ago, and Katsuki gave him the finger. After the contest, he decided. He needs to wait for the right moment with this. There’s no need to add any pressure; if Todoroki didn’t say anything yet, Katsuki could bide his time too.
The braid looks awfully mesmerizing on him. The reds and whites come together like feathers weaving into one another, and the messy look gives him just the right amount of spontaneous air.
He’s done rather quickly, moving his fingers to mess the front fringe, terribly close to the other’s face.
It’s quiet, and Katsuki’s palm hangs mid-air as something hurt and maybe just a tiny bit broken flashes on the other’s face. In a small voice Todoroki mumbles, “Do you think they’ll laugh at me?”
His hand stays suspended in the air.
“What? Who? Why?”
There is no need for these questions, of course. Since word got out that Todoroki Shouto had signed up for the beauty contest, a slew of reactions were thrown around; the girls were very supportive, shouting excitedly and demanding to help. For obvious, non-personal reasons at all Katsuki shut them down. The boys were pretty laid back as far as Katsuki could tell, but he knew what Todoroki meant. Their class was one thing; a closed-knit group, almost a family in their three years of shared hardships.
The other thing was, of course, everyone else. They already got enough shit for being students of the infamous 3-A; other classes and grades were not as supportive. There were glances, and whispers, and sometimes outright mockery; Katsuki made sure to crack his fingers extra loudly whenever those were thrown in the air.
Todoroki shouldered them all in his usual detached manner, a method that was good in dispelling the intended shaming and ultimately even helped put an end to the whispers. If you don’t get riled up, they get bored and cease to try.
But Katsuki understands. Being on the forefront is never easy. While reverse maid-cafe is a recurring event in the school festival, no other guy had ever signed up out of his own will to dress in girls’ clothes and be judged by the student body for his looks and performance. This was unprecedented. And being a third year means the end of school is near; pro-hero life waits around the corner. Todoroki’s decision has more than a local impact inside the school’s grounds.
Still, there is no answer. Katsuki gets up from the bed and plants himself across from Todoroki on the floor, catching his eyes.
“What’s going on? You getting cold feet?”
Those deep, unsettling dual colored eyes stare at him, mouth working around mute words.
“I just - this is - “
His hand shoots up, worrying his fringe between his fingers. Then, slowly, they graze over the scar.
“Don’t you think it’s unsightly?”
Something awfully heavy settles in Katsuki’s stomach, making him feel immensely sad for one, short moment. Then his red eyes narrow, and he grabs both Todoroki’s hands in his own.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He's Shouto, the prettiest guy Katsuki has ever laid eyes on, definitely the prettiest guy to ever walk U.A halls, and if he wants to be crowned the queen of the school then he would. (At this point of time he personally holds the opinion that Todoroki is stupidly pretty beyond vain titles, but he isn't one to talk about modesty when it comes to competitions).
He doesn’t think about how glassy those marble eyes suddenly look.
Katsuki’s been praised his whole life; he guesses by the fucking fiasco Endeavout always throws at the sports festival that Todoroki had been too. But Katsuki was also loved. Hearing you’re going to be the best means nothing under the reign of fists and insults, when you’re less than the perfect expectation. So while these bursts of self-doubt grit on his nerves, under his newfound awareness of his emotions, he’s beginning to understand this doesn’t actually annoy him as much as it hurts. How weird, to feel with this intensity for someone else’s struggle, like someone turned up the dial around Todoroki so now Katsuki feels everything too, to an extent.
And in a small, hidden place, currents of warmth spread throughout his body as Katsuki knows this side of Todoroki is probably only for him to see, for reasons yet to be spoken out loud. Therefore, he does what he knows best; he charges headfirst, heart on his sleeve.
“You know you’re the prettiest person in this whole damn place, right? And much more than that,” It seems only directness and unwavering resolve have the chance to penetrate the hurricane of thoughts that keeps spinning in the other’s head.
Todoroki doesn’t react, only stares at their conjoined hands. They fit awfully well, and to his slight surprise, the other’s palms aren’t as soft as he’d expected them to be. Somewhat calloused, almost like his own.
“No one else deserves that title more than you, you bastard. You worked hard for this. You own this. You’re really fucking brave, get it? And it might seem fucking difficult right now - hell, it is difficult - but once you’re out there it gets easier. Take it from me. My parents were kinda shocked when I came out, but now all my old hag ever talks about is how she’s glad the female population was spared, and who’s gonna be ‘the unfortunate idiot’ that ends up with me,” he scoffs, and suddenly Todoroki’s face does not look so grim anymore. His fingers tighten slightly in his, reminding him how they’re holding fucking hands, and in a panic he wants to pull away, yet he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression.
Katsuki isn’t a fan of personal examples, and maybe this was oversharing but fuck it - insert something about relating personal stories to evoke understanding and indicate empathy, or some other therapeutic bullshit. Besides, everyone pretty much knew by this point which way he swings, it wasn’t a secret anymore.
But it seems he hit the target. Just for good measure, he presses on, redirects Todoroki’s attention to the important matter. “That scar does not make you anything less than beautiful.”
And now Todoroki’s lips wobble, damn it. Please don’t cry, he mentally begs. He’s not sure he can do anything more. Maybe Deku should have been here for this, God knows he's qualified in the waterworks department.
A few heavy breaths between them, and Todoroki clears his throat. His fingers don’t relent.
This is getting pretty weird.
Heat spreads in his face. Katsuki is definitely unused to so much skin on skin contact sans fighting. The gentle touch stirs something foreign in his chest. The room feels smaller and stuffier; the air around them hanging in suspense, as Katsuki waits for Todoroki to do something.
"I didn't know you were gay."
It’s a good thing they ventured out of Sob Land but somehow it seems they crossed the border back into Oblivious Town. He thought they were done with this absentminded bullshit but Half n’ Half never ceases to amaze him. It also raises a serious question regarding the mystical handjob, and frankly all their other we’re-not-sworn-enemies-anymore interactions, and suddenly Katsuki feels very silly and uncharacteristically insecure. Could the nerd have been wrong?
It’s easier to think about other things right now, to negate the apprehension growing between his tonsils by pondering Todoroki’s latest admission regarding Katsuki’s preferences; to welcome the rising blood pressure with open arms.
How had he not noticed? Katsuki had more makeup products than all the girls in the class combined. Utsushimi was always spamming them with pictures of dudes she messaged on Tinder to consult and Katsuki was the one always giving the solid, reliable advice on how to reel them in or weed them out. He was currently wearing his ‘cum at me bro’ birthday shirt turned into pyjamas he got from the squad.
And just like that, something shifts, strange flutters dying out as the familiar exasperation takes over. Two holes should start sizzling on the idiot's face from how hard Katsuki glares at him; un-fuckning-believable.
"Really? Was giving you fashion advice and doing your makeup and hair not enough to clue you in?!"
“That is a rather stereotypical assumption of you to make on what defines one’s sexual orientation.”
He’s mostly right but Katsuki is incapable of giving him the credit right now.
“Bitch, my killer eyeliner wing is not stereotypical.”
"Also, Izuku did it too."
"Exactly, and have you seen Shitty Hair's neck lately? Those hickies aren't godsent!"
Todoroki’s eyes grow wide. So the absent-minded Icyhot was not aware of his best friend’s nocturnal activities. Whoopsie doodie doo, what a great surprise.
Watching him shake the apparently astonishing revelation is quite impressive, and then he wears a contemplating look on his face, followed by a crease between his eyebrows, like he’s trying to solve the biggest puzzle ever made and not realize Katsuki was literally an embodiment of the ‘hardcore’ tag in every possible way, bedroom or not. "You were just praising Momo's boobs the other day," he looks at Katsuki pointedly like he just spelled the winning argument.
Katsuki glares back. "They're great, that's not the point. Obviously I like dicks, what do you think I'm doing here with you?”
That was a great innuendo, he thinks, but at Todoroki's look he starts to pale, and his fingers grow slack. Right, he just admitted his feelings out loud, again, didn't he?
So much for waiting for the right moment.
Maybe the gods have granted Katsuki their favour and will keep Todoroki’s obliviousness intact?
A damage assessment is in due. Judging by the slackening of his jaw, very much reminiscent of the first night Katsuki insulted his velvet-frill combo, Todoroki’s demeanor is not one of denseness, and Katsuki knows he's busted.
"You like me?"
There’s a way out. He can just brush it off, bark something back, make an excuse. But there’s a sheen on his dual colored irises, and his lips lose their color where he bites them. It’s all subtle little signs that go along well with Katuki’s nature; flight is never an option anyways.
Shouldering past the growing heat in his cheeks he looks to the side. "I fucking said that, don't make me say it again," he mutters. And then he thinks about all the times he had to drill the ‘you’re beautiful’ motto into his thick head and his blood pressure rises dangerously high. He can’t go through this again, someone needs to lend him a fucking miracle here. He prays Deku was right after all.
Only one way to know really.
When he musters up enough courage to look back, it’s worth it. He did, supposedly, know that the asshole liked him back; but there was an ever-prominent nagging doubt. One cannot blame a mortal man like himself for failing to gain confidence in anything regarding ‘Todoroki’ and ‘feelings’ in the same sentence.
Now there's the beginning of a wobbly, wondering little smile scaling his lips. It's so minor it could be considered a tick of some sort, but after watching Todoroki for all the long weeks they have spent together, he feels like he knows what to expect - and true to his expectations, it grows, reaching up to light his eyes. And this, he knows, is a rare look, mostly reserved to exceptionally good zaru soba and cute baby animals. Katsuki is immensely, ridiculously happy to be lumped in the same group with those things.
“I like you too,” he says then, and Katsuki refrains from pointing out how he didn’t literally say anything direct about liking Todoroki because his face is turning red and his belly is about to explode with nitroglycerin butterflies and wouldn’t that be awkward.
“Good,” he wheezes instead, ignoring how his heart longs to beat its way out of his body. Todoroki likes him. He likes him. He feels giddy almost as much as when he won the sports festival (the real match of last year, not first year’s pathetic debacle).
They sit in a companionable silence, just Todoroki, Katsuki, and Katsuki’s Taiko-drum heart. He wants to - to keep looking at his face, or maybe put his chapped lips to his -
“That does explain some things,” Todoroki suddenly mutters and side-eyes Katsuki’s shirt, and then moves his gaze to Katsuki’s fingernails (painted today in Mystic Violet) as if he’s some prodigious detective and not the biggest airhead on this planet. Katsuki sighs.
“Congratulations, moron,” he scoffs but squeezes the lithe fingers still nestled in his own for good measure. “Took you long enough.”
Katsuki ignores the embarrassing fact that minus Kirishima and Deku and their awkward revelation party he might have been an oblivious moron too; in doing so he would like to believe that now they can move on to something better, something that will involve tongues and lips in plural but instead of drawing closer Todoroki leans back and stares him in the face.
“Wait. Bakugou, if you’re gay, and you like me - “
Does he have aspirin in his room? He probably doesn’t. Maybe Pikachu with his constant headaches will have some - maybe he has something stronger that can salvage whatever will be left of Katsuki’s brain by the end of this -
“Why did you refuse my aid at the showers that morning?”
He would have been elated that they’re finally talking this shit over, except for how this timing sucks goats’ balls - they could be kissing! he could have tangled his fingers in the mess of white and red and pull, let it cascade down his neck only to be twisted around his fingers and instead - instead -
Katsuki sputters. “Excuse me? Do you think it’s normal behaviour to come onto someone like that? Ever heard of flirting, you unassuming bastard?”
Todoroki does his I’m not amused flat thing with his mouth. Incidentally Katsuki mirrors with his own non-amused combo of flaring nostrils and curling lips.
“How would you go about it, then?”
“First of all, I wouldn’t call it fucking ‘aiding’, it sounds geriatric as hell. And maybe ask a dude out before you offer to rub his dick?”
Which perhaps is not the best terminology either, but he undoubtedly won that round.
Todoroki has the audacity to roll his eyes and harrumph, blowing a bit of his fringe out of his eyes. Katsuki’s face heats by at least ten more degrees. Shit, this is getting dangerous.
“Fine, Mr. Know it all,” he says with a small huff of what could be laughter but could also be normal people’s breathing, reaching to properly hold Katsuki’s hand, tilting his head to the side. The look he sends him is something Katuski wasn’t aware could manifest on the other’s face; it’s playful, knowing, absolutely infuriating. He bats his eyes twice and asks around a small smirk, “Can I take you out?”
The sound that escapes Katsuki is a cross between a dying animal and a squeak toy crushed underneath Mt. Lady’s feet. This is Todoroki, the poster child for lack of social skills, he will not be convinced otherwise and he will not lose to this - this fucking clone. A rip in space and time; he blinked and someone swapped versions with a Half ‘n Half from another dimension. The one where he knows how to flirt, damnit.
“It better be somewhere good,” he settles on, leaning forwards on his free arm. Two can play this game.
Todoorki eyes his bulging biceps and he takes the opportunity to lean closer. He can pinpoint the exact moment Halfy’s brain starts turning into a mindless mush; somewhere between peeking down Katsuki’s cleavage at his pink nipples and Katsuki climbing into his lap, settling his warm palms on the back of his head and threading his fingers into the braid.
Touching with permission, with his intention clear - a spike of excitement bursts in his belly, thighs quivering. Mismatched eyes grow wide, hands reaching out to circle Katsuki’s middle, hot and cold palms sliding up his back.
Fuck but that feels good. Katsuki only ever thought of putting his palms on the other, but this is good, this is really, really good.
“You gonna kiss me today or tomorrow?”
Shutting this sassy mouth would also be good, so Katsuki grants the idiot his impatient wish, not before twisting the strands between his fingers hard enough to wring a grunt out of him.
They battle for the upper hand, just like in everything else they do; and just like everything else, in the end it really doesn’t matter to Katsuki anymore, especially not when a velvety tongue engulfs his own, licks behind his teeth.
“Can I wear a skirt on our date?” Halfy gasps, eyes sparkling and alive. God, he’s so, so beautiful, Katsuki wants to see him like that every morning for - fuck, he’s getting ahead of himself -
“Fuck yes,” he growls and pulls him by his collar, devouring his breathless laughter.
______
They go to the movies and Katsuki recalls absolutely nothing of the flickering images on the screen; all he can remember is the tongue sneaking up the column of his throat, the hand leading his own up a milky thigh and underneath the hem of a skirt.
Katsuki thanks every entity he can think of for skirts and heels, hungrily eyeing his boyfriend’s long, long legs, and he doesn’t even care when the bumbling, zit-faced attendant asks them to kindly leave; Katsuki tells him to kindly fuck off and promptly drags Todoroki after him to the bathroom, revelling in the choked gasp that follows their footsteps.
It’s not the last time they get kicked out of an establishment on a date and Katsuki couldn’t have been more elated.
______
“K-katsuki - “
“Fuck, Shouto, it’s - wait a sec - “
“Ah-mmh! - “
“B-bastard, where the fuck are you aiming - “
“Move a little bit - “
“Fuck no, you’re the one who - “
“But - “
“Kacchan, have you seen my - omigod - !”
“Oh - “
“Ah!! no, oh no - I’m so sorr - “
“The fuck - “
“Izuku, good evening - mm - “
“To-todoroki kun - “
“Shut the fuck up and shut the fucking door!”
______
Midoriya wakes up to his lost notebook on the floor in front of his door, charred with familiar hand prints and topped with an added box of expensive chocolates, the kind Endeavor sends Shouto every Christmas. It’s a good compensation, worth the eternal scarring. The experience also allowed him to understand Kacchan a bit better; Shouto’s legs do look exceptionally good in high stockings. All in all, a third place on the list of Kacchan related misfortunes.
He slams his door shut before his face can heat any further.
______
“Hell no, you and Round Face are not singing that song while recreating that stupid animated scene in real life, so help me God.”
“But - “
“No, Shouto, we’ve gone over this, the similarities in your abilities doesn’t fuckin’ matters, your dress doesn’t even match. We’re going to do something badass, not that sappy capitalistic bullshit.”
______
They end up doing the Frozen number anyways, because Katsuki is a pushover for his boyfriend, and Deku thought it was ‘precious’, and apparently the student body had maybe three collective working brain cells because Shouto wins the competition.
Of course, even while singing that awful song and creating swirls of glittery ice in intricate shapes, Shouto was still the prettiest person he had ever seen. Dumbest, cutest, most endearing idiot; so maybe the students worked their precious peanut brains and saw past the horrid song as well.
“Your shirt doesn’t really make sense, you know that?”
He’s too busy grinning like a fool, watching Shouto descend the stairs of the runway like some sort of a sculpted Hellenistic god, with his big ass sash slung diagonally across his body, eyes alive and cheeks flushed a healthy rosy color.
‘My boyfriend's the no.1 beauty queen’ is fucking correct and ain’t no two-bit perverted low-life was going to change that.
“Jealousy’s a bitch, Grapeshit,” he barks at the general direction of his feet and marches on towards the stage.
Some doey-eyed first years are bumbling over themselves trying to congratulate Shouto on his victory and Katsuki’s first instinct is to mark his territory. He doesn’t get past the bristling, though, as Shouto eyes him from afar, lifting one eyebrow. A small spike of jealousy lodges in his belly; he knows Shouto’s gonna be the catalysator for at least a third of the students who watched. Screw them, he doesn’t wanna share his boyfriend as someone else’s gay revelation.
But then he thinks back to the victory present he has wrapped and ready under his bed, made to order with Shouto’s exact size, and stops giving a fuck about other people. Good for Shouto, being an ambassador of goodwill and compulsory morning woods. As long as he’s got the real version, everyone else can fantasize about whatever the fuck they want.
The heavy thudding of his boots scatters the flock of babies and Katsuki finally picks Shouto up, spins him in the air. His arms wrap around Katsuki’s shoulders and everything feels right.
“I won,” Shouto laughs, breathy and wonderful and Katsuki can feel his heart trying to burst out of his chest with how big it was becoming.
“Of course you did, you absolute doofus.”
“Are you going to cook me a victory dinner?”
“I made you cold soba every night this passing week, you leech,” he groans and buries his head in Shouto’s chest, keeping his feet still dangling in the air.
“Are you calling me a leech because of my sucking ski-”
Katsuki’s biceps are easily his saviours; he delegates one arm from Shouto’s middle to slap a hurried palm over the idiot's blabbering mouth, feeling his face heat. Someone whistles in the background and he refuses to turn around.
“Holy shit, shutthefuckup I’ll make you the damn Soba,” he huffs, making absolutely sure to keep his intense glaring on the other boy’s face. The mischievous twinkle in the school’s no.1 beauty queen’s eyes strengthen his nagging apprehension that Shouto’s already learned what all of Katsuki’s buttons are, where they’re located and how to push all of them at once to get what he wants. Good thing he likes the idiot so much or else he’d have his ass, and not in the way he so lovingly has it now.
Katsuki is not a romantic sap; if he was he’d probably wax poetic shit about the way Shouto’s face rivalled the sun or how he fit perfectly in his arms; as it is, he’d rather keep his mouth shut and let his grin do the work for him. He’d come to the conclusion both of them are not the best with words and emotions (someone worse than the other though), and he’s content like this. He knows Shouto gets it; it’s in the slight crease of his eyes, the bobbing of his throat. Katsuki gets it too, lets his fingers slide down his cheek, caressing his scar.
Katsuki is not a romantic sap, so pretty soon he lets his boyfriend down and snatches the bag of clothes he’d brought with him. They still have some time before the musical show; enough time to hold right to his promise. He takes the ball of fabric out, looks for Aizawa’s nod of consent from the periphery of his vision. They’ve talked this over, so when he’s granted permission, he allows Deku the honour of throwing the green and orange ball up in the air; inexplicably there’s something right about doing it together. He aims his palms to the trajectory of the sphere; it’s high enough for the blast to be surprising, not frightening. In a blink, the explosion hits the target, expanding in the air much like a firework; little confetti of velvet and frill slowly glide down to earth.
“Happy now?” Shouto laughs, reaching a hand to catch tiny pieces of past abominations. Katsuki takes a good look at him, at the sweat slowly mussing his hair to his forehead, at the scar stretching to accommodate his smile and answers honestly, the only way he knows.
“The happiest.”