Archive of Our Own

"I think I have appendicitis."

Doctor Bakugou took one look at him, sharp and concerned, before cackling in Shouto's face. He frowned, offended as he stared at the certificate on the wall and deeply questioned it's validity.

"It's true," Shouto insisted.

It was. When he had typed in 'my stomach hurts and I also have cramps and am also not hungry,' trusty WedMD came to the rescue, leading him to the Appendicitis page. All his current symptoms were there, and now he was here. At a doctor's office. Just like they had suggested.

Bakugou narrowed his red eyes. "You don't look like you're in any pain."

"I am."

"Look, Todoroki-san-"

"Ah, just Todoroki," Shouto cut in, grimace not having anything to do his physical pain.

"Whatever. Quit wasting my precious time!"

"I didn't see anyone else in the waiting room," Shouto pointed out.

Bakugou was silent, but Shouto could see an internal war play out; the scrunched up face, clenched fists and visible steam out of the doctor's ears a dead giveaway. Now that it was silent however, he could finally take in the doctor's appearance. While he had already done his initial look, judging a book by its cover, this time he truly appreciated. There was the blonde hair, spiky tufts that looked soft instead of the gelled up grease that usually were associated with spikes. So, yes. Hair, nice. Rest of face, very nice. Body? Covered in a long doctor's coat that left everything up to imagination but oh well.

"I suppose we can do some tests to make sure," Bakugou conceded, albeit grumpily.

“I’m sure,” Shouto nodded confidently.

(Spoiler: he wasn't.)

He blanched when he saw Bakugou open up a drawer full of syringes. "…what type of tests exactly?"

"A blood test," Bakugou casually said.

"Ah."

Ah. Shouto hated needles.

"I think," Shouto said slowly, subconsciously backing up slightly. "That I don't have it anymore."

"Hah?! This isn't something that just goes away! If you have it, you have it!"

Well. That was new information. Shouto tried to think of an excuse, but Bakugou narrowed his eyes.

"You scared of needles?" Bakugou asked.

No one had ever quite mocked his fear quite like Bakugou did, and Shouto felt indignant. "I'm not."

A smirk, one that made the blond doctor look smug but roguishly handsome in a way. Shouto willed the thought away. Maybe it could come back later, when he was far, far away from said person.

"Alright, Todoroki," he continued, and the smirk grew as Shouto relaxed his shoulders slightly.

Shouto wondered how to proceed from here. Despite what he told the doctor, he wasn’t too sure that this, appendicitis thing had gone away. But he didn't want to do any blood tests either.

Options, options...

"Ya just gonna stand there?" Bakugou drawled.

Well. If standing meant avoiding needles...

"Look, if you ain't got any real problems, the door's right there," Bakugou said, pointing helpfully.

Huh. Shouto had many problems, but what was real and fake often blurred and meshed together in a squiggly line of stuff to deal with later.

"Ah," Shouto settled on saying. "Well, my stomach does hurt."

Bakugou picked up his clipboard as if he was the one in great pain at the moment, eyebrows drawn in tightly. "Do you know anything that might have caused it?"

Shouto thought about it; thought of his yesterday where he had decided to indulge in going to an all-you-can-eat cold soba restaurant for the heck of it. He vaguely remembered ordering round after round after round after round after- ah. Perhaps...

"I had fourteen rounds of cold soba yesterday," Shouto admitted, wilting at the thought of his comfort food being the instigator of his woes.

A hard, long stare penetrated deep into Shouto's soul and made him want to wither away into a small ball, joining the tardigrades in their journey to space as to avoid the deeply unimpressed look. But he didn't grow up with daddy issues to not be able to withstand a condescending stare. He willed his expression to go blank, something Natsuo dubbed as the Classic Fish Stare™.

"Well," Bakugou deadpanned. "You don't have appendicitis. You just need time to digest."

"I see," Shouto said because he did see now, and was tempted to leave a one star rating on WebMD for their dramatics.

He stood some more, engaging in a stare-off for a few seconds longer.

"Is that everything," Bakugou said.

Shouto hummed in agreement. "Yes."

"Ok." Bakugou got out. "Please get out then."

"Ok." Shouto made no move to leave. "It was nice meeting you."

Was that smooth? He hoped it was, hoped he could recover from looking like the jester of the court-

"Bye."

A stake to the heart then. Well, Shouto supposed there was no impressing the grumpy doctor today.

No, not today.

But, perhaps...

...perhaps.

.

"A cute but grumpy doctor?" Momo hummed, pouring tea delicately in the two small cups.

"Yes," Shouto affirmed, and clinked his teacup with hers before drinking it. "I'm not sure what to do."

His old friend looked at him with an amused smile. "He must have left quite an impression for you to be this... smitten."

That was true. Rarely did Shouto find someone interesting enough to think about them long after they left, rarer so that they were still on his mind days later.

"Quite," Shouto said, and she smiled again.

"It's not often that you feel a spark at a chance meeting," she mused, still sipping on her tea. She looked out the window of their tea store, rays of the sun casting a blinding light to glint on the skyscrapers. "Do you want to see him again?"

His thumb ran over the teacup's handle, a fragile thing well cared for over the years. "It feels silly."

Momo hummed but didn't talk, letting him conjure up thoughts at his own pace. "To want to see him again because I think he is..."

A beat. He wondered if the small blush on his face would give away the last word on his mind without having to spell it out verbally.

"Attractive?" Momo offered.

Caught.

"Attractive," he repeated, the word solidifying the image in his head. Dangerous territory. "But. He's quite rude. And impatient. And short-tempered."

"Sounds familiar," she teased, and he frowned at her. She laughed, the sound like the entrance bell indicating the opening of the door. "Kidding. But there's more to a person than the first time you meet them; there's more to a person than you'll ever know, even if you have known them for a very long time. So, I think... for you to think of him even when he has awful bedside manner and a grumpy demeanor, it has to mean something. And it's always worth a shot. Always."

His frown loosened to one more contemplative and he glanced a look at her smiling eyes, so genuine and kind that he looked down again, skirting away.

"Let yourself be happy, Shouto," Momo said. "And if it turns out that all he embodies are what seems to be anger issues, I would advise to perhaps find someone else to pine over."

That drew a laugh from him, snapped him out of his small daze enough for him to smile at her sincerely. "Thank you, Momo."

"These things either work out or they don't," Momo replied, looking into the sun's reflection. "So why not go for it, if you have a fifty percent chance of it being in your favour?"

That was true. He mulled over her words, finishing the last of his tea before starting up the process of opening their store. It felt like there was a crossroad ahead of him; a dramatic fork in the road obstructing the path forwards and making him think and think and think as he worked.

Customers came and went, cups washed and dried, day fell into the arms of night and it clutched the sun away before Shouto decided-

Alright. There wasn’t any harm in visiting the clinic again, he reasoned. Question was.

What was he going for..?

A number? He tried to imagine the texts that would occur, but admittedly, he wasn't the most avid texter so that might not be an ideal method of communication.

A date? He could already imagine the rejection, and the reason why was quite clear. With the only fact the other knew about him was that he managed to eat fourteen rounds of cold soba, it might not have been the best first impression, but.

That was what second impressions were for. Maybe he would wait for another out-of-the-blue illness to spring up on him and leave their next meeting up to fate.

.

(Ah. Forget fate. Why wait for the stars to write your romance when you could walk right up to the clinic and-)

"You again!" Bakugou said, pointed finger and all like Shouto had been on the wanted list. Well. He wouldn't mind that-

"...me again," Shouto repeated, for the lack of better things to say. Then: "hello again."

"What's your problem?!"

Um.

Shouto blinked. "Excuse me?"

"High blood pressure? Indigestion? A headache? Why're you here," Bakugou expanded grumpily.

To see you, Shouto did not say. "Ah, the first one."

A fine eyebrow was raised and lowered accordingly, much like Shouto's heartrate. He was pretty sure his blood pressure was fine, but might as well check anyway and save face in the process. All in a day's work.

"Alright," Bakugou conceded, and vaguely gestured towards the exam table. "Sit."

As Shouto got comfortable on the table and rustled the paper, Bakugou got out some equipment which seemed to be needle free. Good. He didn't think he had ever gotten a blood pressure check before, so it was a mildly exciting experience...

...made even more so when a rubber cuff was strapped around his upper arm which Bakugou paused at.

"Huh. Guess ya don't have noodle arms," Bakugou commented.

Shouto raised an eyebrow, wondering how to interpret that. "You are what you eat doesn't apply in this case."

"Nah, you just have a noodle brain."

The cuff started to expand in size.

"Your bedside manner is pretty awful," Shouto pointed out.

"I'm a goddamn delight," Bakugou boasted breezily.

A hum, neither confirming or denying. Shouto added confident to the list of adjectives to describe Bakugou, a steadily growing list with admittedly more negatives than positives.

The stethoscope was placed on his elbow and Bakugou leaned in slightly closer to listen when-

"Kacchan! I'm super super sorry but my arm got a bit run over and- ahhhhhhhhhhhhh is that you Shouto-kun?!?!"

Shouto felt his upper arm get squeezed to death by the innocuous looking rubber cuff at the appearance of Midoriya. Huh. He looked back and forth at the two, trying to decipher the situation while his circulation was getting cut off.

"What the hell happened this time?!" Bakugou yelled, gripping the bulb attached to the cuff tightly. Ah. Ahhhh. Getting his arm squished by a cuff was definitely not on Shouto’s plan today.

Instead of answering, Midoriya bounded over to Shouto. "Are you ok, Shouto-kun? Are you here for your arm too? It's looking pretty pale actually-"

As if realizing what happened, Bakugou released his death grip, hastily taking off the cuff at the sight of Shouto's lifeless looking arm. Sweet, sweet release.

"I'm doing well," Shouto deadpanned. "I was here for my sugar levels actually."

"Hah?! You said you were here for your high blood pressure," Bakugou said with another one of his intense scrutinizing stares.

"Yes," Shouto nodded. "That. Perhaps the lack of blood flow made me forget my ulterior motive."

He focused on Midoriya's sunny smile instead of the seething blond beside him. "I didn't know you two knew each other!"

"Ah, we don't," Shouto started to say when Bakugou grabbed Midoriya's arm.

"Fucking hell, Deku your arm looks like shit again," Bakugou swore.

Right. More pressing matters were at hand here. In Bakugou's hands really; they were inspecting Midoriya's arm which seemed jelly-like with a red jello-like colour to match. Curiously, Shouto thought that if his arm and Midoriya's were to combine at that moment, it would be like his distinct red and white hair combo.

"Oops," Midoriya offered sheepishly.

"Go to a hospital, jeez," Bakugou ranted.

"I'm giving you... business?"

"Tch, I have tons of business!"

Shouto piped up: "This is your clinic?"

He could see the moment where Bakugou's eyes brightened, as if hearing his achievements out loud were still a nascent dream waiting to happen, only to get validated again.

"Yeah," Bakugou said simply and grinned and wow what a sight-

"Kacchan worked super hard!" Midoriya cut in with a beam on his own, eyes glinting in pride.

"I sure fuckin' did," Bakugou confirmed, then focused back on the arm. "And what the hell were you doing?"

"A bush kind of fell on my arm..."

Now that the source had been identified Shouto spied the familiar scratch marks with a grimace. Bakugou wasn't as sympathetic, cackling as he said: "You let a bush attack you?"

"It came out of nowhere!"

Shouto watched as the familiar camaraderie of the two settled into place; saw that despite Bakugou's grumblings, the level of care he put into helping Midoriya was immaculate and gentle.

Bakugou was like a Kinder Surprise, Shouto concluded. A shell of crudeness with a delightful surprise waiting for whoever managed to melt the outside.

"Ah, I'll see you next time for the sugar levels then," Shouto interjected when there was a lull in conversation. He didn't want to infringe any longer.

Bakugou looked unimpressed, and Midoriya spoke first to avoid the impending yelling. "We'll have to catch up soon, Shouto-kun!"

Shouto smiled. "Well. You know where to find me."

He heard a, "oi, what does he mean by that-" before he closed the door.

His missions of getting a number/date/something was thwarted by Midoriya but there was always a next time. And if he got an ailment, his next destination was already decided.

(Perhaps something about those high sugar levels...)
.

"A headache," Bakugou said in disbelief.

"A headache," Shouto repeated, because his head was indeed hurting and in the need of some aid.

"What, were you watching too many movies? Books?"

"You can never read too many books," Shouto said determinedly. "And I was watching My Neighbour Totoro, if you were curious."

"Tch. I wasn't curious!" Bakugou refuted, but Shouto saw a flash of something in those carmine eyes. "Have you tried taking any headache pills?"

"No."

A pause.

"Where does it hurt?" Bakugou asked, gripping his pen tightly.

"Around my head," Shouto answered simply, but it seemed to be enough. He saw the other nod, scribbling some things down for a while. Then: "do you watch any Ghibli films?"

Where it came from, Shouto did not know. All he knew was that his mouth moved before his brain could sound the alert for 'bad decision' and that Bakugou was now staring at him.

"Yeah," Bakugou eventually said, clearing his throat. "Ponyo is cute as fuck."

Gah. Endearing.

"I've never seen that one," Shouto hummed.

The pen, so tightly clutched from those steady hands, clattered to the floor and with it, all semblance of conservation.

"What." Bakugou uttered.

Ah. Was Bakugou one of those 'I can't believe you've never seen this' people? Shouto shrugged for lack of anything to say. He had said his piece.

"They're doing reruns at the cinema," Bakugou said. "Go watch it."

"It's on Netflix." Well. That just tumbled out.

"Tch. If you've got the chance to watch a fucking fantastic movie in the cinema, why would you watch it in front of a shitty screen?"

Shouto was about to defend his TV which was relatively large in size, but halted. This was...

An opportunity. Without letting his overthinking mind ruin it, he opened his mouth and said: "come with me?"

Bakugou reached to pick up the pen; a reversal of state of shock. It was quiet for a while, just the sound of pen scratching on paper that reverberated in Shouto's ears - the dissonance of rejection.

"Here." Bakugou took out the sheet of paper and handed it to Shouto before pointedly looking at the door.

His eyes scanned the paper miserably, seeing the prescription of headache pills, some instructions to get some sleep and.

And.

The address of the cinema, a date and time, and.

And.

A number.

.

The phone rang once, twice, thrice-

"Momo, it's me. I'm going to the cinema with Bakugou tomorrow so can you please come over and help me-"

"Hello, Shouto, I'm doing quite well thank you for asking. Also, did my ears deceive me or do you have a date-"

"Ah, well it's not a date. We didn't specify the specifics."

"Oh?"

"Well. It all happened so fast."

"Start from the beginning."

"Ok. I went in to inquire about my headache and he asked me if I watched too many movies. And I told him I watched My Neighbour Totoro and later asked him if he watched and Ghibli films."

"I... see where this is going."

"He said he liked Ponyo, which I've never watched before and I told him just that. And he told me they were playing it in the cinema and then..."

"You asked him to go with you?"

"Yes. He didn't say anything for a while but handed me a piece of paper with a prescription for headache medicine and his number and the date and address of the cinema. So. Can you come over-"

"Yes, yes of course! We can head over to yours after work."

"Ok. ...thanks Momo."

"Of course, Shouto. I'm happy for you!"

"...me too."

.

Well. Bakugou wasn’t lying.

Ponyo was an extremely cute film. Shouto would have more to say about it, if he wasn't so distracted by the person beside him. Date or not, the loud beating of his heart spoke what he was feeling: giddy and nervous like a pre-pubescent teen talking to their crush for the first time.

(He supposed the magic of crushes was that it didn't matter if it was the first, second or hundredth time they conversed; the butterflies were always there with their rapidly fluttering wings echoing his heartrate.)

Soon the film was over, vivid colours and joyful songs fading to black. But the night would not be over, not yet, Shouto told himself firmly.

As they got out of the cinema he pointed to the nearest restaurant vaguely. "Are you hungry?"

"Hungry, not thirsty," Bakugou said, lowering Shouto's hand (gah) which was actually pointed at a bar (gahhhhhh). "There's a good sushi place not far from here."

"Sounds good," Shouto shrugged coolly, heart dancing inwardly.

It was surprisingly comfortable, walking with Bakugou. Usually Shouto would be trying to wrack his brain for conversation topics, ultimately lost in society’s expectations of small talk and constant chatter, but here, now, beside the blond, he felt at peace.

"So how do you know Izuku?" Shouto eventually asked.

"Childhood," Bakugou replied, almost fond. Almost. "He’s like a leech."

Huh. Shouto had never envisioned Midoriya as a leech before, the lack of insect features, being the main reason why. He hummed anyway. To each their own, he supposed.

"Must be nice," Shouto surmised. "To still have a childhood friend be with you after so long."

To grow up with someone, both bright-eyed children getting scrapes from falling off the slide to comparing calculus answers to getting coffee for each other during those all-nighters writing papers… He was glad he was able to experience that.

Bakugou pulled a face, but his eyes seemed lost in thought, remembering his own memories. "Yeah."

There were infinite memories behind that word. Speaking of memories...

"I knew him from one of my university classes," Shouto said fondly.

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "It was an intro to business class. It was a bit of a shock to hear that he is now a firefighter."

"Tch. He always did want to be a hero."

Shouto thought to the news article he had skimmed through a few days ago, Midoriya's beaming face plastered on the front and the remains of ashes behind him. "Well, he succeeded."

"Mhm," pride. "So what do you do?"

"I own a tea store with Momo. We just had our one year anniversary a couple days ago."

Shouto could tell the exact moment when he saw Bakugou tense. It wasn't obvious, but the slight tense of the shoulders, taut eyebrows, clenched fists and gleam in the eyes gave it away. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Shouto continued. "It was hard to get business at first, but I'd like to think we're doing pretty well now."

"Oh." Shoulders relaxed. “What’s it called?”

Oh. Did Bakugou think the anniversary was for…

Huh.

"The Jasmine Dragon. …you should drop by some time."

"Huh. Maybe I will."

Warmth tingled from his head to his toes at the thought of having Bakugou in his store. Then he really was warm as they approached the restaurant and got seated, the heat of the tea thawing his cold hands.

When they finished ordering, Shouto decided to pursue his curiosity on how Bakugou managed to start his own clinic.

"I saved a lot from when I modelled at my parents' agency," Bakugou said casually, as if he didn't make Shouto double-take.

"You modelled," Shouto repeated weakly, and something in his tone must have caught the other's attention because soon he was looking directly into those red, red eyes instead of the fish tank behind him.

A smirk. "Yeah."

"Anything in particular?"

"Socks."

"...socks?"

Bakugou laughed. "Nah. Mainly clothes. All that haute couture shit."

"I see," Shouto said neutrally, wondering what this oteh cotture thing was.

Soon there were small wooden platters with arrays of sushi rolls displayed prettily with the flower wasabi Bakugou proceeded to mix in the soy sauce platter. Ah. Well, Shouto knew where not to dip his sushi in now. He added soy sauce to his own little platter, before finally indulging in the food.

It was all fun and games – the shime-saba disappearing in a flurry before the inari was targeted, then the tamago and so on – until the last piece of negitoro sushi lay in front of them innocently, a martyr waiting to be sacrificed. They both looked at it before their chopsticks clashed violently.

"Oi, oi, oi, back off," Bakugou growled, chopsticks snapping like dinosaur teeth.

"I want it," Shouto said, own chopsticks snapping like a cat pawing at a butterfly.

Eventually Bakugou snatched the small roll, smirking before chewing on it obnoxiously. Shouto sulked but wasn't mad, not when Bakugou seemed so content.

"Did you wanna order another thirteen rounds or can we go," Bakugou said when he finished.

"I don't usually eat fourteen rounds of cold soba," Shouto pointed out, ignoring the sinking feeling of despair at the thought of the night ending. "Though I would like to."

Bakugou pulled a face. "It's so bland."

Oh no. Of course the guy he had to have crush on was a hater of cold soba.

"Its not," Shouto felt affronted. This was getting personal.

"There's no spice," Bakugou griped. "It's just carbs upon carbs."

Shouto was ready to defend his favourite food. "There's sauce too. And spring onions."

"Tch. You better get ready for those high as fuck blood sugar levels."

He thought back to his near daily soba dinners and strawberry milks to go with his breakfast (if he had it) and the little wagashi accompanying the cups of tea he would drink everyday.

"I think," Shouto said slowly. "I've accepted the fact already."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed in suspicion, as if squinting could make him read Shouto's thoughts and reveal the other carb-y stuff he delighted in.

"I also think," Shouto continued. "That anything can be eaten, in moderation."

"Ha! Fourteen rounds of soba is beyond moderation," Bakugou barked a laugh, and it was then that Shouto realized that the other was probably never going to let that go.

"Well," Shouto floundered calmly, and did not continue.

Fortunately, the waiter came by with the bill then, and they each paid for their own food before leaving.

"Well," Shouto repeated as they lingered around the outside of the restaurant. He gestured towards the general direction of his apartment. "I'm heading that way."

A stone settled in his stomach; a ten tonne mass plunging into the ocean and sinking, sinking, sinking as Bakugou pointed at the opposite direction. "Bye then."

"Ah, bye," Shouto said, wondering if he should add anything as Bakugou walked away with a short wave and a small smile.

He thought of those romcoms he had seen with Momo, the lead always running after their romantic interest with a spew of 'by the way I like yous' or kisses or hugs. But in the midst of thinking of other people's fantasies, he lost his own reality, and soon enough Bakugou was a blur in the crowd.

Ah.

.

“Life isn’t like the movies,” Shouto said mournfully when he came into work the next day. He hadn’t been able to sleep, thinking of the magic of the beginning of the evening and the flub at the end of it. Thoughts were funny like that; a day could be perfect and the mind would focus on the little thing that ruined its entirety.

“It’s not,” Momo agreed. “Did it not go well yesterday?”

She asked like he hadn’t sent her a text that said ‘gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.’

“It went alright,” Shouto offered, sidling next to her to start drying the dishware she was washing.

A beat.

Two.

“Shouto,” Momo sighed. “Please expand.”

And expand he did: “It really did go alright. We watched Ponyo which was adorable, and after I suggested we go for food-“

“That sounds great-“

“-except I pointed at a bar.”

A beat.

Two.

Three.

Shouto continued. “But then he suggested a sushi place so we walked there. It was mostly quiet… but comfortable.”

He could still recall the moment vividly; all crunching leaves and soft footfalls and the passing of stores and people and time; all dark skies and lit up streets and the brightest presence of all beside him; all fitting like a glove side by side; comfortable.

He snapped out of his stupor at Momo’s soft hum and soft eyes which sparkled. “That’s lovely, Shouto.”

He nodded, stacking the cups on the shelf before picking up the dishcloth and drying the endless stack. “It was. We did talk though, and some more at the restaurant.”

“Hmm. So what’s got you looking upset?”

“Well. That was it.”

She looked bewildered. “What do you mean?”

A shrug. He wasn’t quite sure either. “Hm. I suppose I was expecting more when we parted.”

Momo’s face did a complete 180, concerned eyes crinkling to a smile. “Shouto. Were you expecting a kiss?”

Red creeped onto his cheeks without warning, slithering to his ears and remaining there as he thought about kissing Bakugou. “…no.”

“You were!” She was laughing now, and he was tempted to promote Midoriya to best friend status, taking her place as she grinned at him. “I don’t think you should be disappointed because there wasn’t a kiss, Shouto. Your evening together sounded wonderful as it was.”

“Hmm.”

She nudged his shoulder playfully. “Honestly. Besides, you can see him anytime, it’s not like he’s disappeared.”

“I suppose.”

Now that all the parts lied bare, it did seem like a silly thing to be concerned over. There had been many good moments. He thought of the chopstick battle, light conversation, Bakugou’s reoccurring smiles throughout the evening…

His hands covered his face. Momo patted his back with wet hands that made his shirt wet.

Midoriya was definitely getting promoted.

.

"Hello, my nose is stuffed," Shouto said in greeting. "Is this a sign of Churg-Strauss syndrome?"

Bakugou looked up. "Do you have difficulty breathing? Numbness in your hands or feet? A fever?"

When Shouto shook his head, the other pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then I highly doubt you have it."

"Ah. That's good then. ...my nose is still stuffed though."

No reply.

"Are you going to prescribe any medicine?" Shouto asked curiously. He read that there were cold medicines out there, but apparently Bakugou didn't get the memo.

He watched as the doctor grabbed his coat and walked out the door. What...

"Let's cure your pathetic stuffed nose," Bakugou said with a sneer, as he walked away. "Oi, Pinky, I'm heading out for a lunch break."

"Ooh, have fun~" Ashido said, smiling mischievously.

Bakugou graced the words with a grimace, then looked at Shouto who blinked from afar, still in the hallway. After a few more seconds of staring, he hurried to follow the blond, who just tched when they finally left the building.

It was the first time Shouto had left with someone, and the usual giddiness he felt after leaving the doctor's office increased tenfold as the doctor himself now walked beside him.

"Where are we going?" Shouto asked. He didn't think Bakugou was a surprise person but he supposed you really do learn new things everyday.

"You'll see," Bakugou said, and the mystery intensified.

They kept walking, ducking through suspicious alleyways and under fluorescent lights and over the bridge before they finally stopped at a small hole in the wall.

Spoice, the restaurant greeted in comic sans, an indicator of great things to come.

Shouto followed the other inside to a table for two, and instantly could feel future peppercorns and Sichuan peppers swimming in his noodle bowl as he gazed around at the dishes people were inhaling.

Hmm. Before he could even pick up a menu, Bakugou was flagging down a waitress, speaking words of impending doom: "two of the house specials."

The waitress nodded. "Spice level?"

Impending doom solidified as Bakugou's lip curled up: "Max."

Giving them both a sunny and concerned smile, the waitress nodded and left-

-and came back with two large bowls of lava, steaming and looking like the fiery pits of hell.

Oh no. Shouto stared as the bowl was placed in front of him with a small thud that rang in his ears. As the steam wafted upwards, his stuffy nose was gone instantly, replaced with watering eyes.

"Itadakimasu!"

In the bowl were braised short ribs glazed with a sticky red sauce trickling into the soup which had splotches of chilli oil smattered all over. The greens brought some vibrancy though, nestled on the side with the nori and bamboo shoots. The half boiled egg showed a yellow sun drooling over the flat rice noodles which were all topped with a handful of spring onions that completed the dish.

If it wasn't for the shock of murky red broth and floating chillies, the seeds eyeing him mockingly, Shouto might have been more enthused at eating the dish.

"Eat up," Bakugou said, glomping down on the ribs and chillies in one bite before going for another.

Shouto slurped up some of the noodles.






















"What d'ya think?" Bakugou asked, as if he didn't see Shouto down five glasses of water, another one on its way carried by the harried waitress.

"I think," Shouto said, downing another glass. "That I want ice cream."

Bakugou smirked with teasing eyes. "I've heard their chilli ice cream is pretty popular."

"Ah. ...that's ok then."

Another wicked smile, which thankfully did not lead to any more wicked deeds. Bakugou checked the time before stretching. "Alright, well my break's over."

"Oh. I'll walk you back then," Shouto said.

Bakugou looked surprised for a second, before he smoothed over his features with his usual scowl. "Don't you have other things to do? Better things?"

Shouto shrugged. "Yes. But I'd like to walk with you anyways… this is my better thing."

He swore he could spot a tinge of red in the other's ears in the midst of blond. (He also swore his heart exploded as the other got flustered.)

.

"Momo," Shouto said seriously. "I think I'm allergic to Bakugou."

"Oh?" Momo answered amusedly. She was pouring tea leaves in a container, unlabeled labels in a small stack beside her. "What makes you think that?"

"He makes my heart explode."

"Hmm."

Shouto decided to help her out, and started to write down blueberry tea on the label when-

"I think you’re just deeply infatuated," Momo said, and the letter e he was writing skyrocketed off the page.

He stared at the label that said blue, and thought it was a fitting sentiment to his mood.

"You should tell him your symptoms," Momo continued with a smile. "I think he will get the gist. And if your feelings are not reciprocated, you can play it off as one of your fevers you seem to be having quite often. Delusion is a powerful thing."

It was a genius idea. And terrifying.

Shouto wrote on another label. "What if he laughs in my face?"

"You like his laugh," Momo pointed out. "But, well. Confessions are always terrifying aren't they? You never quite know if your feelings will be returned or not."

She finished pouring the leaves before closing the container and handing it to Shouto to stick the label onto. "But you seem to be extremely happy lately, and I have a good feeling he likes you too."

He felt a blush decorate his face despite himself. "You've never met him."

"You're a good judge of character, Shouto. If you decided that your heart explodes because of him, I think there is something to be said of his personality."

He threw the label saying blue in the trash, and felt invigorated.

“Alright,” he said, an excited nervous energy thrumming through his veins. “How does this plan sound…”

.

It was on a sunny day where he initiated his plan. Perhaps a rainy day could have matched his mood if things went wrong, but he was hoping things would go well.

Ashido gave him a knowing smile as he entered the small clinic, and the small encouragement combined with Momo’s text of ‘You can do it!’ and Midoriya’s ‘wahhhhhh can’t believe kacchan will be dating you soon I still remember when he screamed at pigeons in the playground when he was 5’ gave him the support he needed to make his way to the familiar room.

He opened the door slowly, making it creak obnoxiously loud, before stepping inside.

"I’m sick," Shouto announced, flopping down on the patient bed.

He wasn't usually so floppy around others, but when he was around Bakugou, he felt more carefree and prone to antagonizing the other.

"No the fuck you're not," Bakugou said, not even sparing Shouto a glance.

"I am," Shouto pouted, and felt his own forehead which was warm, much like the rest of him. Whether it was because of nerves or nerves or nerves he wasn’t quite sure. One or the other, surely.

"Tch. Symptoms?" Bakugou humoured him, finally setting aside a bunch of papers and giving the other his full attention.

Mission, start.

"My stomach feels weird and fluttery," Shouto started, feeling ridiculous as he recited the list he repeated to Momo endlessly on their shift. "My heartbeat always speeds up. I can't seem to stop my face from smiling. I sweat and get chills. I can't stop thinking…."

(…of you.)

Shouto stared at Bakugou as he concluded, and saw that the other was staring right back, red eyes gleaming with mirth. He stood up, making his way to the other.

"I think you're on to something," Bakugou said.

Step.

Forward.

Another step.

Forward.

Now that they were only a foot apart, Shouto could see Bakugou clearly. The sun was generous then, and the rays glinted on the blond spikes and made them all blinding beacons of ethereality. Lost in the sight before him, Shouto almost missed when the other started talking.

"You're lovesick," Bakugou concluded, a wicked, pleased grin on his face. "And I think I know how to fuckin' cure it."

Shouto made an inquisitive noise, heart thumping and thumping away as the blond turned to get something. He scrawled on a piece of paper before handing it over.

An address.

A time.

A date.

A doodle of a heart exploding.

A date; official. Shouto spotted the same red tinge on the blond's ears, and he smiled, heart doing flips and flops and jumping jacks and somersaults.

“I’ve got an actual patient to take care of now,” Bakugou said brusquely, before clearing his throat. “But. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Tomorrow,” Shouto confirmed, and left with a dopey smile that Bakugou returned, albeit with less teeth showing.

(let yourself be happy, shouto-)

I am, he thought, and clutched the piece of paper close to his heart.

fin.