Chapter Text
ドキドキ
Bakugou Katsuki is an incredibly observant and surprisingly caring person.
It’s something Todoroki notices gradually and slowly, with small gestures and tiny details piled upon each other.
After knowing each other for a bit more than a year, Todoroki likes to think he gets Bakugou fairly well; although he isn’t that complicated to read once you get to know him, so it's not something that big that he does.
Bakugou is loud, abrasive and downright enthralling—he’s always claiming attention one way or another, with his burning passion, outstanding intelligence and competitive attitude, doing his very best in everything; he’s all kicking-doors-open, loud voice in corridors, sharp, intense crimson eyes and devilish trademark-smirks.
But his care—Todoroki wouldn’t call it loud. It’s endearingly subtle, almost as if he was embarrassed of showing it. It’s often disguised as fake annoyance or irritation, and his worry is, most of the times, shown kind of aggressively, but he’s very… kind-hearted, all the time.
It’s in the long, attentive side-stares; in the way he invites them over McDonalds (even when he hates it) so Kaminari will have his favorite hamburgers when he’s feeling down or insecure about something; in the way he smiles proudly at Kirishima when he gets a better grade in Math than in their last exam, in the way he ruffles Mina’s hair and lets her play in his phone when she’s feeling embarrassed after messing up in a presentation; in the way he bakes a batch of those orange-cookies Sero loves for his birthday; in the way he remembers all of Jirou’s favorite songs even when she keeps adding more to the list; in the way he scolds Midoriya for over two weeks after he breaks his leg practicing volleyball (and aggressively helps him around, all the weeks until he fully recovers); in the way he takes extra notes in Science class for Kaminari (the subject he has more problem with) and puts a bunch of post-it all over his textbook so he will remember the important things; in the way he lends Kirishima his jacket when they all go out to watch a movie because he’s cold; in the way he stays over for hours in an uncomfortable hospital chair and lets Mina cry in his shoulder after her dad got interned, in the way he keeps checking out on her even after her dad gets discharged; in the way he texts Sero to ‘hurry up with the snacks’ just to check out on him when he’s gone for a long time, in the way he makes fun of Jirou for getting a heavy cold in plain spring but also visits her every day for a week to give her the class notes and some of his favorite food; in the way he keeps buying Midoriya nutrition bars when they have big school projects and keeps texting him to 'get his ass up his desk for once, nerd', because he knows he forgets to eat when he gets too focused on something.
It’s in all those meaningful stares he gives Todoroki when he’s thinking about his father, because Bakugou always seems to notice when something is off; in the way he covers Todoroki up with a blanket when he falls asleep during one of their movie-nights in Kaminari’s house (that he keeps getting dragged to, and that he keeps complaining about even when he does stay all night awake, and mildly and begrudgingly participates in whatever Kaminari comes up with this time); in the way he laughs at Todoroki when he gets dizzy after getting up in the roller-coaster of the local festival they all go together in summer, but stays sitting with him until he calms down and buys him a candy-apple just later; in the way he keeps buying Shouto his favorite strawberry drink when they’re studying together; in the way he never pushes when Shouto talks to him about something; in the way he keeps bringing extra onigiris and umeboshi in his bento because he knows Todoroki loves them.
Kaminari often compares Bakugou with a mom because of those things—or a grandpa, considering he doesn’t like loud music, loves shogi, is grumpy and goes to bed at 8 PM if possible—and Bakugou hates it.
Todoroki wouldn’t compare Bakugou with his mom, though. They’re abysmally different. The way Todoroki feels about them both is different. The way they both care about him is different.
That doesn’t mean Todoroki doesn’t care about Bakugou’s awkwardly attempts to show he does, in fact, care about him, though; he finds all of it ridiculously endearing, and he always… reacts to Bakugou’s concern, somehow. He has been reacting to it since the first time he ever noticed it, but it’s getting worse by now, and he’s honestly not sure why. He’s not sure why it affects him so much, but it definitely does.
It makes him feel soft, exposed, and tenderly open. It makes his heart do weird gymnastics inside his chest.
He always gets this… fluttering, light feeling inside him when Bakugou looks out for him, dense, gentle warmth spreading all the way up to his throat; as if he just ate a butterfly and it was flapping its wings inside his ribcage, warming up his body slowly and languid, like the nascent, tepid amber-orange sunrays showering the city of light at dawn.
He wonders why that is.
Why does he feel like his heart might explode when Bakugou cooks soba for him after he loses the finals against Shiketsu in his first year? Why does he feel so warm when Bakugou stops in their way to the station so Todoroki can pet a stray cat? Why does he feel so happy when Bakugou does something as simple as sharing his double-popsicle with him? Why does his face feel so hot when Bakugou, fondly exasperated, rolls his eyes and calls him ‘so messy’ after he finishes it and has a bit of ice cream at the corner of his mouth? Why does he feel so flustered when Bakugou gets down on one knee in front of him to tie his shoelaces, in P.E. while Todoroki is sitting at a bench on the side in a five-minute break, because ‘Todoroki can’t do it right and they keep getting fucking untied’? Why does he feel like his heart is going to rip out his ribcage when Bakugou’s long fingers close around his wrist to pull at him and stop him from getting run over by a car? Why does he feel so incredibly itching and self-aware of his own skin when Bakugou peeks over his shoulder to look at Todoroki’s photos? Why does he keep thinking he’s so close, he’s so close, he’s so close and he smells really nice, really, really nice when Bakugou looks over his messy notes, leaning against Todoroki’s side in the classroom?
They’re just a bunch of things Todoroki doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t get why Bakugou’s presence feels so overwhelming to him at times; why does he keep noticing small things about him—like the way he organizes his notes with different colors, and the way he grins, winning and elated, after playing a particularly difficult piece he’s really proud of, and the way he scrunches up his nose when it’s really cold, and the way he taps his pencil on the desk when he finds something interesting in what he’s reading, or the way he looks at something when he wants it but is embarrassed to say he does (like an All Might limited edition action figure).
He’s accustomed to pay attention to details, but he thinks he’s never done it like this with anyone before.
He wonders if it’s weird. (He hopes it isn’t.)
He wonders why is he even thinking about Bakugou while he changes clothes in the club room.
.
Later, as if summoned, something pokes at Shouto’s back when he’s crouched down changing into his outdoor shoes at the entrance of the school.
“Bakage.”
“Hmm?” Todoroki hums and looks up briefly—not that he needs to confirm who he is because only Bakugou calls him that (and only Bakugou has that voice), but he does anyway.
And there he is.
Bakugou Katsuki is standing in front of him, leaning against the lockers in all his afternoon-glory, arms crossed over his chest and perpetual slight frown printed on his face, already changed into his outdoor shoes and still wearing his uniform.
“Oh, Bakugou, are you still here?” Shouto asks, not so much as a question but as a surprised statement.
“Yeah.” Bakugou answers. “Your club finished already, right?”
“Mmhm,” Todoroki confirms as he stands up to put his indoor shoes inside his locker. “We finished practice early today.”
“Good.” Bakugou says, and points to the big double-doors steps away with his chin. “Let’s go, then.”
He turns around as soon as he says that and walks over the entrance of the school.
Todoroki blinks.
“Huh?”
Bakugou stops and looks over his shoulder to shoot him a look.
“Are you deaf, dumbass?” He drawls. “I said let’s go.”
He pointedly moves his umbrella to make emphasis in the last words, almost poking out the eyes of a girl who’s passing by in the corridor.
“Um.” Todoroki hesitates.
Bakugou sighs when he doesn’t move.
“Why are you looking at me like I’m going to murder you, moron?” He scowls. “It’s raining, idiot.” He adds, as if that explained his offer, and points behind him with his thumb.
Todoroki looks over Bakugou’s shoulder.
Oh. That’s true.
(He didn’t even notice; it must have started just minutes ago. That would explain why Sakamata-sensei allowed them to leave earlier, too.)
Heavy rain pours down behind the school doors, making everything look like a gray-and-white animation film. The school gardens bend over the storm, bright colors striking pretty, soft hues in the silver mantle. Bakugou is standing in the middle of the frame, ash-blonde spiky hair and cherry lips outstandingly gentle in a black-amber ink world. A lightning breaks down the sky and flashes blinding light for a couple of seconds behind him, drawing his silhouette with thick lines, as if the squall was trying to eat him alive but Bakugou stood up defiantly, unmovable on his feet, stubbornly refusing to break with it. Like a flower powerfully and vividly glowing in the middle of a thunderous disaster. Like a knight coming straight out of a Medieval Era story book.
Todoroki blinks. Pretty.
Bakugou opens his mouth.
“Would you—” he says, deep, husky voice cutting off the sound of the rain drops crashing down behind him, “—stop daydreaming and walk, Bakage?” he tilts his head and hurries. “Do you want to miss the train? Hurry up.”
“Ah.” Todoroki utters. Right. The train. He closes his locker and walks up to him. “Sorry.”
Bakugou clicks his tongue when Todoroki finally catches up and opens his umbrella so they can go out under it. Shouto kind of wants to mumble “excuse me for the intrusion” as soon as he takes refuge in the small dry space, but he knows Bakugou would look at him like he was dumb if he said that right now.
“You forgot your umbrella, didn’t you?” Bakugou asks as soon as Todoroki accommodates himself right at his side. “Dumbass.”
“It was sunny in the morning.” Shouto excuses himself.
“Yeah, but the weather forecast heralded rain for all the rest of the afternoon.” Bakugou counters, arching an eyebrow at him. “Do you ever watch the news?”
Todoroki hums. “Not a lot.”
Bakugou gives a small nod. “Figured.”
Todoroki side-eyes him. Bakugou’s umbrella is small, so he has to squeeze out in the tiny space so as to avoid getting soaked. His right side is all pressed up to Bakugou’s left one; he’s really warm, despite the cold wind. Neither of them is wearing a sweater nor the winter uniform given it’s the middle of spring, so the skin of Bakugou’s arm brushes against Todoroki’s with every step. For some strange reason, Shouto becomes disconcertingly aware of every nerve in his body, of every part of him that is currently touching Bakugou.
His throat feels suddenly tight, and his heartbeats become a bit erratic. Is he okay? Does he have a heart problem or something?
It’s not that is uncomfortable—it’s actually quite the opposite. Todoroki thinks he’s enjoying being so close to Bakugou a tad more than what’s probably normal, even when he feels weirdly nervous about it.
"Is it going to be rainy tomorrow, too?” Todoroki asks, trying to get his mind out of wandering around in his messy, confusing thoughts.
Bakugou nods. “For all the rest of the week.”
“Hmm.” Todoroki hums. “I guess it’s not weird for it to rain so late in May.”
“Yeah.” Bakugou agrees, though it sounds kind of contemplative.
“Well,” Todoroki says, and listens to the rain pouring down and hitting the asphalt beneath his feet. The sound is deafening—strident in the middle of an alive street in Musutafu at the late, busy hour of 5 pm. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
“Mhm.” Bakugou hums and then does this kind of face—averting eyes, pressed lips; pretty fingers flexing in the umbrella handle—as if he was trying to make it less of a big deal but his body wasn’t exactly cooperating. “We’re going to the same station anyway, don’t think it too much.”
Todoroki can’t help the small smile curling up in his mouth—maybe because it’s actually endearingly cute that Bakugou is, perhaps, as self-aware of the situation as Todoroki.
They stop at the beginning of a crosswalk and wait while the cars pass by in the avenue; the reduced space is full of people—businessmen with black and brown briefcases; moms with their children playfully bouncing on the balls of their feet, admiring the rain in their cutes cartoonish-stamped raincoats; a few high school students laughing together or college seniors looking at their phones—Bakugou shifts his stand so he’s not poking his umbrella in the woman standing next to them and, in consequence, he presses himself against Todoroki even more, his elbow trapped between the two bodies. Close.
Close, close, close. He’s so close…
Bakugou gives him a side-glance.
“Why are you acting so weird anyway?” He inquires, and bumps their shoulders together. “It’s not like this is the first time we go home together, dumbass.”
And it isn’t, really. It’s not even the first time they share an umbrella—albeit this is only the third. But it’s still kind of surprising.
They haven’t been going home together that much these past weeks—they used to, though, around the middle of their first year, when they started talking a lot more (and around the time Bakugou kept insistently saying they weren’t friends—even after being paired up in a lot of projects, even after months of being in the same group of friends, and even after Bakugou had come to his home for a school project and had Fuyumi’s famous mapo tofu at dinner). He’s not sure if they got used to it after going to each other’s houses together all the time, working on a final project for over two weeks, or if it was just the familiarity of it, or the comfortable company that was having someone walking at your side after a long, tiring day at school, but they suddenly began their routine of going home together around June. They went to the same station after all, and their respective clubs finished around the same hour.
Todoroki remembers it vividly in his mind—Bakugou sitting in the floor outside his club, looking at his phone while waiting for him to finish so they could go home; or maybe sitting cross-legged in front of his locker while doing homework or reading a book. They walking together to the station under the radiant sun of summer, stopping sometimes in the convenience store two blocks from the school to buy some cold snacks or icy drinks, Bakugou complaining about the hot weather and the bright sun while Todoroki looked around for stray cats and took a lot of pictures when he felt like it. They walking together under heavy rain, Bakugou threatening him after Todoroki purposely splashed some water in Bakugou’s shoes, Bakugou grabbing his wrist with warm, steady fingers to stop him from slipping and falling flat on his ass in a puddle. They walking together in winter, gelid wind blowing and making their cotton sweaters flutter with it, Bakugou fixing up Todoroki’s beanie in his head and absentmindedly standing closer to him so he would get a bit warmer, Bakugou scolding Todoroki for not wearing gloves, Todoroki sassily teasing Bakugou about the way he put on a scarf and Bakugou scowling and saying the way Todoroki did just ‘let all the cold wind in’, the puffs of white clouds in the air when they talked.
Although neither of them were very talkative, it was still… comfortable. And nice. And fun. Just them walking together; sitting in the train pressed to each other given the little available space (or squeezing into the tiny space, standing up close to each other, when there weren’t any seats not taken already), sharing Bakugou’s earphones to listen to one of the multiple playlists he had saved on his phone, Todoroki mainly dozing off until Bakugou waked him up when he needed to leave; or Shouto rambling about manga with him for a bit, Bakugou quietly listening to him.
It was all overly comfortable, and unexpectedly nice. The constant bickering, how easy he was to tease, their back-and-forth, and the long, pleasantly silent walks… it was all enjoyable.
So, yes. It wasn’t the first time they did it. It was just that, when their second year started, their schedules after classes overlapped and, overall, didn’t match at all. They were working a lot given they had competitions the next month, too. So it was just… surprising, he guesses. Watching Bakugou wait for him. Walking close to him like they used to before, after weeks of not doing it.
It made him happy—happier than he probably should be over such a simple and ordinary thing. (It didn’t quite feel like that, though. It didn’t feel any close to just ‘a simple and ordinary thing’. It felt like a lot more.)
“Why are you acting so weird anyway?”
He’s not sure. He doesn’t know.
Todoroki makes a low sound at the back of his throat and feigns innocence.
“Am I?”
Bakugou squints at him, like he’s saying I know exactly what you’re doing, Bakage.
“Yeah.” He retorts. “Weirder than usual, which is saying a lot.”
Todoroki hums, but doesn’t give him any more than that.
Bakugou scowls, deep ruby irises fiery and sharp through delicate, thick eyelashes, apparently irritated with his lack of response.
“I’m being serious, idiot.” He grumbles, frowning exasperatedly. “You’ve been quiet today—which in itself isn’t a weird thing, but it’s…”
Bakugou closes his mouth and presses his lips, puckering them up in a frustrated grimace, like he’s struggling with how to say what he wants next.
Todoroki blinks.
“Ah.” He utters, suddenly realizing why Bakugou is still pressing on the topic. “You’re worried.”
Bakugou reacts as he always does when Todoroki as much as implies he’s worried about him: his scowl deepens and he scrunches up his nose like he just had something sour, his mouth wobbling. For some reason, he actually looks cute.
“The fuck I’m worried.”
“That just means you’re super worried.” He shoots back, teasing smile already curling up at the corner of his mouth. It only manages to make Bakugou more embarrassed, though, if the pretty, bewitching light blush coloring the base of his neck is any indication of it.
“Hah? In what language, you dumb ass?”
“In Baku-language.”
“Hah?”
“Yes, I’m fluent in it.”
“You’re—” He kicks Todoroki’s calf, like a petty child. “—fucking what? Stop smiling like an idiot, idiot.”
“Fluent.” Todoroki can’t help the way his smile widens. “Did you forget Japanese already?”
“You fucking jerk.” Bakugou hisses, and tries to kick Todoroki again, but he moves out of the way—and gets attacked by the gelid rain in the process. Ah. Oof. Fuyumi won’t be very pleased when he gets home…
Bakugou curses under his breath and hastily pulls at his arm to get him under the umbrella again.
“You idiot.” He scolds, not looking very pleased either, and flicks at Todoroki’s forehead, “what do you think an umbrella is for, Bakage? Now you’re all soaked. Did you want to catch a cold?”
Looking at Bakugou’s frown, the only thing he wants is reach out and make it disappear with his fingertips. Maybe if he touches it, Bakugou will stop scowling. Maybe he’ll blush, even. Would he?
“I’m not catching a cold.”
Bakugou arches an eyebrow.
“Well, I hope.” He grumbles. “If you do and then get all your germs over me, I’m kicking your fucking ass.”
Todoroki licks his lips, amused.
“You better change your fucking clothes once you get home.”
Todoroki laughs.
“I’m fucking serious, dumbass.” Bakugou hisses, annoyed.
“Okay, okay.” Todoroki agrees, a warm, familiar buzz tenderly lighting up his chest at Bakugou’s worry. Then, he uses his hand to get the wet hair out of his forehead—it doesn’t work perfectly, and some stray strands fall messily over his face. Bakugou blinks and silently follows the movement of Shouto's fingers with his eyes. “I’ll do it.”
Bakugou blinks once again and then looks away, averting eye-contact when Todoroki glances at him questioningly.
“Whatever, idiot.” He clicks his tongue, his voice wavering a bit, sounding oddly breathless. “And stop smiling like a moron.”
“I’m just happy you’re worried about me.” Todoroki says, tilting his head so he can look at Bakugou’s face, who stubbornly tries to ignore him. “Even if you won’t admit it.”
“That’s because I’m not fucking worried, Bakage.”
“Mmm.” Todoroki hums. “You know, Baku-language is really easy to learn, don’t feel bad because I’m fluent in it.”
Bakugou’s right eyebrow twitches, and he narrows his eyes into slits when he side-glances at him, as if saying you’re still with that?
“… That so?” Bakugou mumbles through his teeth.
“Mhm.” Todoroki affirms, a flicker of mischief adorning his eyes. “You see, every time you say you are ‘definitely not fucking worried or embarrassed’ it means you definitely are.”
Bakugou quirks an eyebrow.
“And every time you call me dumbass it means you love me very much.”
Bakugou puffs, though there’s a glimpse of amusement in his eyes.
“You’re pushing it, dipshit.”
Todoroki smiles.
“I’m fine.” he says. “Not only about this,” he points out to his wet uniform. “But I mean in general. I’ve just been inside my head a bit more today, I think. But everything is alright.”
Bakugou obstinately frowns. “I don’t care.”
Todoroki is tempted to counter Bakugou’s words with something like then act like it jokingly, but he really doesn’t want to say that out loud for some reason.
“Also,” he adds instead. “I was just surprised when you showed up while I was changing my shoes. I didn’t expect you to be there.”
“I had club, dumbass.”
“Yeah, but haven’t you been finishing until 6 pm these days? You have an event in June, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.” Bakugou gives him a look, like he’s kind of surprised Todoroki remembers. Which is weird, because of course he does. He never misses one when he can; he loves watching Bakugou play. “But practice finished early today. Kayama had a teachers’ reunion or something.”
“Ah.” Todoroki blinks. “Did you wait until the kyudo club finished, then?”
“I didn’t wait too long, moron.” Bakugou says, like he knows what Todoroki’s face means. “We didn’t finish that early.”
“Oh...”
“Yeah.” Bakugou flicks Todoroki’s forehead, and Shouto scrunches up his nose. “Stop pouting like I just kicked a cat in front of you; I waited for you because I wanted to, dumbass. I don’t do anything I don’t want to. You know that.”
“I know.”
The thing is, though, the most probable thing is that Kayama-sensei did cancel their practice pretty early, and Bakugou waited for him anyway just because he knew Todoroki didn’t bring an umbrella.
Something tugs at his chest—heavy and light at the same time, blossoming in his ribcage and spreading all over his body, like dense, warm honey.
“Thank you.” Todoroki says, voice low and full with crude emotion. “For waiting.”
Bakugou looks at his hand instead of him. “… Yeah.”
Todoroki offers a tentative smile. He’s not sure if he should say it, but he wants to (and he’s never really had a filter if he’s being honest), so he does.
“I missed it, you know?” He admits. “Walking with you to our homes together.”
Bakugou’s face is a whole show—his right eye twitches, his cherry-lips wobble (kind of like… pout, and then tremble to form an unsteady, precarious line) and there’s a faint blush starting to color the base of his neck.
Oh.
“Can you not—” he starts, thick eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings; “—be so blunt?” he messes up his hair, soft golden strands tangling with long, pretty fingers. “Ah,” he huffs, sounding frustrated.
Todoroki chuckles.
“What are you laughing at?” Bakugou grunts, scowling.
“I don’t know. It’s cute that saying that made you flustered.”
Bakugou opens his mouth and then closes it, and then all over again.
“I’m not—!” he gapes, blinking rapidly. “I am not.”
“What?” Todoroki asks, eyes laughing and simpering smile on his mouth. “Flustered or cute?”
“Both, you dick.”
“Hmm.” Todoroki hums. “Very debatable opinion, but go off, I guess.”
“I’m not flustered.” He stubbornly insists. “You’re just really embarrassing sometimes, big idiot.”
“You’re still cute, then.” He shoots back.
“I am fucking not.” Bakugou scowls, annoyed, blush creeping up to his cheeks, making him look (ironic, judging by what he’s claiming) very cute in Todoroki’s opinion. “If that’s what you think you should get your eyes checked. Or your brain.”
Todoroki quirks an eyebrow, throat bubbling up with happiness.
“Stop laughing, asshole.”
Todoroki just laughs more. Bakugou looks at him like he’s a lost cause, but something in his eyes scream fondness, which makes Todoroki feel all weird inside. His stomach is going wild, dancing and doing somersaults every three seconds; and he feels so happy he might explode.
After he calms down, they walk in comfortable silence for a street more.
When they’re about to get to the station, though, Todoroki realizes something.
“Wait.” He frowns. “Where is your violin case?”
Bakugou shoots him a look.
“You just noticed I’m not carrying it?” He inquires, eyebrow quirked. “You sure live inside your head, huh.”
“Well, it’s comfortable there.” Todoroki quips, instead of saying that's because I was busy looking at your face and enjoying the walk, because that might weird him out.
“You moron.” Bakugou huffs, though he does seem amused at his comment. “I left the case in the music room; didn’t want it to get soaked. Kayama said I could.”
“Ohhh.” Shouto utters. “That’s good.”
“Mhm.”
“And—” Todoroki cuts himself when he looks at a little girl carrying her dog, happily standing with his dad outside a veterinarian office at the end of the street. “Ah, Bakugou, look.” He nudges Bakugou’s arm and points at the dog. The white pomeranian blinks at him in return; spiky, soft fur bristling with the cold and something akin to annoyance showing up in his tiny face—which makes everything even better. “It’s you.”
“Hah? Do you want me to kick your fucking ass and leave you to freeze in here?” Bakugou seethes, and the dog barks when they pass by, as if backing him up. Todoroki has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop his smile.
“I can still walk even without your umbrella, Bakugou.” Shouto deadpans. “And we’re just a street away from the station.”
“Shut up, ungrateful bastard.”
“I just said thank you before, though.” Todoroki tilts his head, as if faking confusion. “When you got flustered.”
Bakugou flips him off and sticks out his tongue, like a petty, immature kid.
“Get fucked, Bakage.”
Todoroki snickers.
Ah, he sure missed this. He sure did.