Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Can you pretend to date me to scare off Mineta?”

If Katsuki isn’t well-versed with all kinds of atrocities his class is capable of suggesting, he would choke on his water. It’s a close call though, as he spits it all out, narrowly missing Todoroki’s impassive face by a small margin. He can see their friends peering at them curiously from around the training ground, even Shitty Hair stopped punching through the obstacles he talked Cementoss into forging for him and is openly staring at the pair.

“Excuse me?” He sputters out, wiping away water droplets from his chin with the back of his hand.

The fire and ice user stands in front of him, blinking innocently as if he hasn’t just dropped a fucking bomb on him. “Mineta,” he says slowly as if Katsuki is the one who’s dense.

“I would’ve preferred to live through today without being reminded of his existence, yes.” He prompts roughly, glaring at whoever dared to keep staring at their interaction, namely Earphones, who’s looking at them with a stupid knowing smirk.

“I know, he’s driving me insane. Bakugo, he’s camped outside my room.” He doesn’t think he ever heard this much horror coming out of his rival’s mouth before. Hell, it took a lot to inspire any kind of reaction in his perfectly-crafted stoic mask. Then what he said catches up with Katsuki.

“What the fuck? Why?” He asks with a frown, forgoing his initial disdain at the request in favor of his curiosity.

“Denki says he thinks being gay will get him closer to the girls so he came up with the brilliant plan to court me. He won’t leave me alone no matter how much I stress I’m not interested. Please, you’re the only one who scares him.” If Katsuki isn’t taken aback by Icyhot’s pleading, he definitely is by him admitting Katsuki’s superiority over him in skill, even if that skill is the ability to glare Grapehead out of existence.

Katsuki purses his lips, narrows his eyes at the honest expression currently gracing Icyhot’s pretty face.

Hold on a second, did he just think of Icyhot’s face as pretty?

“I’ll think about it, now get out of my face.” He bites out gruffly to drive attention away from the stupid blush making its way to his face. It works because the dumbass gives him a hopeful grin that he swears makes his face shine before turning away from him, making his way to the girls who, now that Katsuki’s vision isn’t hyperfocused on his rival, all look at him with identical shit-eating grins. Fuck, he’s sure even Hagakure is gracing him with the same expression, even if he can’t see her.

Small explosions flicker from his hands without his notice, coupled with a vicious glare he’s proudly crafted especially for them and they all turn away to look elsewhere, pretending to be busy.

It’s useless, because once Icyhot reaches them they all gather around him, no doubt grilling him for answers. Nosy shits.

Katsuki looks away, eyes scanning the arena fleetingly to catch any lingering gaze. He’s gotten better at controlling his anger around his classmates but that doesn’t mean he’ll allow them to make a spectacle out of him.

If he’s being completely honest, the request isn’t as appalling as he’d like to act.

Katsuki has known he was gay since middle school, he’d never tell anyone about the moment he stopped seeing the freckles on Deku’s face as fucking scattered dots and started regarding them with a little more attention and giving them embarrassing analogies like dubbing them beautiful constellations. That was a period he knows he’d never want to get back to, ever.

Luckily, aside from serving as his sexual awakening, the ship with Deku sank before it had the chance to sail. He’s thankful for that, because even if they’re better now, even if he’s better, the idea of having that kind of attachment with someone he used to torment so much doesn’t sit well with him.

So after the manifestation of his sexuality in middle school, he’s been at ease with whatever his dick decided to get up to. Then came UA with a wide assortment of male species that he couldn’t imagine being acquainted with even in his wildest dreams and Katsuki was set for life. Except, his first year at UA was all his nightmares rolled in one big clusterfuck that derailed him away from any rational thought about having a love life. He couldn’t focus on something so mundane when he had more pressing issues like suppressing his traumas and acting like he didn’t have bad dreams in the shape of an unrelenting hand around his neck or fucking dog muzzles choking him to death. To say UA’s first year was hard would be an understatement, of course, keeping in mind that Katsuki never admits to things being hard.

Second year was relatively calmer and had a significant lack of villain attacks that specifically targeted Katsuki. It went by in a breeze and Katsuki had more time to really look at his classmates, to see them as equals instead of extras. His change of heart was overzealously welcome by them, they approached him more easily and had no qualms teasing him to hell and back. He never really let go of the explosiveness but he made sure it was harmless, not wanting to repeat the same mistakes he made with Deku.

Deku, for his part, was a solid presence during all that time. He made sure to stand at the edge of his vision at all times, watching him with a proud grin, egging him on. It used to infuriate him but after years of enduring it, it only served to warm him up. The idiot just has that effect on people.

Now it’s their third year and Katsuki’s competitive streak mellowed out considerably. Case in point, he doesn’t hate the dense dual-haired Todoroki anymore. Though he’d prefer to die instead of admitting it, he even- rather begrudgingly, mind you- considers him a friend. Fuck it, he likes the idiot. With nothing drastic or life-threatening to distract him from his pathetically empty love life, he gave way to his treacherous thoughts.

Todoroki Shouto was fucking beautiful, okay? He had grace, he was smart- despite how he acts as stupid as Pikachu most of the time- and he was distracting. Katsuki has to thank his lucky stars daily because of the seat arrangement in class because he doesn’t think he, or Aizawa-sensei by extension, can fucking bear it if Todoroki was in his immediate line of vision. He's always prided himself in the impressive hold he has on his self-control but after a few close calls of being noticed staring at the oblivious dumbass, he doesn’t want to risk it. He thinks Shitty Hair has an idea of his inconvenient crush, if his knowing looks are anything to go by. Raccoon Eyes teases him sometimes when they’re alone- thankfully- and it doesn’t help that she’s a mutual friend between him and his crush.

It doesn’t come as much of a surprise when the girls basically adopt Icyhot by their second year. While the first spot for his best friend is still undisputedly Deku’s, much to Katsuki’s dismay, the girls are what one would call his clique. It’s nice, seeing that much girl power. Seeing that power embracing Icyhot so readily, giving him the much-needed confidence he lacked before UA, fills Katsuki with awe. He thinks he should be jealous of how close they are to him, how he wishes he was in their place but all he feels when he sees how relaxed Todoroki is around them is relief.

So, really, he can get why Purple Balls would think the way to the girls’ hearts is through their aloof classmate. Getting it, however, does not stop it from being so fundamentally disgusting and wrong.

With that in mind, Todoroki’s plan starts to appeal to him. He wants to mess with Grapehead and well, if he gets to spend some time with his stupid crush, no one has to know. He clenches his fist, letting the familiar surge of determination wash over him.

Starting now, he’s a man on a mission.

Todoroki Shouto is popular with the girls of his class for a reason he can’t fathom. Mineta thinks it’s because he’s gay which solidifies Shouto’s opinion of Mineta as a raging imbecile. Izuku says it’s because they like him, like spending time with him, he claims Shouto is fun to be around which kind of worries Shouto about his friend and the state of his sanity. Shouto? Fun to be around? Pffft, don’t make him laugh. 

Bakugo once called him a limp noodle, Shouto, not knowing exactly the connotations of that insult, finds that he agrees.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he takes their surprising interest in stride. He loves them, actually, loves to spend time with them too. He loves studying with Momo, who’s always so attentive and smart. She reminds him a little of his mom, the way she looks at him like she’d do anything to see him smile. He loves girl nights with Mina, Ochaco and Tsu, he thinks it should make him feel weird that he’s the only boy invited but it’s nice so he doesn’t let his thoughts dwell much on the matter. They get snacks and camp out in his room because Mina says his layout is relaxing. Sometimes they apply face masks- a habit Ochaco got him into which does wonders to his scar and occasional acne breakouts- and talk shit about the boys in other classes, mostly Monoma. Other times they watch a movie and invite Kyoka, Momo and Toru. Those nights are his favourite, Momo made a spare mattress he keeps in his room just for the occasion and they refuse to go back to their rooms once the movie is over. Their presence in his room always manages to drive his nightmares away. He loves having deep talks with Toru about their childhood. Trauma, as few knew, is an amazing topic to bond over. 

It’s a development he never expected when he first came to UA but a welcome one all the same. What’s not welcome, however, is Mineta’s newfound interest in him. It’s unsettling, being on the receiving end of the purple-headed perverted efforts. A small part of his mind tells him it’s better if it's him on the receiving end rather than the girls. 

Shouto wonders if it should’ve at least started off subtle but then again, Mineta wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit him square in the face.

He first comes up to him in class, demanding that Shouto go out with him. The absurdity of the command surprises a laugh out of Shouto, who quickly brings his hand up to his face to cover it up.

“I beg your pardon?” He asks Mineta, who’s giving him a look of utter malice, too spiteful for someone entirely too small to look the least bit threatening. He sobers up, schooling his expression into one of fake interest.

“Go out with me. On a date. Or whatever.” The shorter boy borderline orders him, wincing as if it’s physically painful to stand here next to Shouto’s desk and talk to him.

“Pass.” He tells him, looking straight ahead. He catches the surprised look on his face out of the corner of his eye, as if he can’t for the life of him figure out why Shouto rejects the offer.

Thankfully, Aizawa-sensei moves in before Mineta can come up with any argument and Shouto considers that the end of whatever pervert conquest he’s on.

It’s not.

He asks again in the common room of their dorms, then asks again while they’re training, and again in the kitchen and again outside Shouto’s room in the middle of the night.

To say Shouto’s desperate would be an understatement. He knows he can easily just freeze him somewhere and let him learn his lesson but he doesn’t want to be the object of Aizawa’s disappointed stare. When Kyoka suggests he asks Bakugo for help, he ignores the leap his heart takes at the mere idea of him and Bakugo in that particular form of a team. He’s desperate, not suicidal.

Kyoka’s knowing smirk when he says exactly that isn’t lost on him. It’s Mina who assures him though, telling him that Bakugo would jump at any chance to mess with Mineta without getting the teachers involved. She has a look identical to Kyoka’s and that’s how Shouto knows he’s screwed.

He may have mentioned, in passing, that he has a minor crush on Bakugo, despite every rational thought in his mind telling him that he shouldn’t . For one, Bakugo’s sexual orientation wasn’t disclosed to Shouto or anyone close to him, really. Then there was, of course, the issue of Bakugo not liking Shouto one bit. The blond’s character development is something that Shouto finds incredibly attractive, even if it doesn’t really have anything to do with him because as far as he knows, he is still Bakugo’s ultimate rival. It’s nice, being the recipient of the explosive hero-to-be’s attention, even if it’s not in the way he really craves. He’ll take Bakugo’s glaring and shouting over his indifference every day. And really, it’s enough watching him with his friends, how attentive he is to their needs, how he acts like he doesn’t care but helps them study, always keeps them fed and takes care of them when they get sick. More often than not, he spends his free time pondering how it would feel to be the one Bakugo likes, to be someone he holds so dear. He’s embarrassed by how much thought he put into this.

So it doesn’t take long for the girls to convince him of enlisting Bakugo’s service. He approaches him during combat training, with Aizawa-sensei curled up in the corner with his sleeping bag, unsurprisingly asleep and Cementoss focusing his attention on Kirishima who keeps hounding him for more cement blocks. He doesn’t have to worry about his teachers’ suspicious eyes watching them.

What he doesn’t expect is Bakugo’s calm reaction. He expected significantly more explosions and shouting yet all he receives is a contemplative look and a promise that he’ll think about it. It’s a welcome change from Bakugo’s natural reaction to him so he doesn’t stop the hopeful grin he throws the blond’s way before practically skipping back to his friends, who are regarding them with a look he can’t explain.

“He said he’ll think about it, that’s good, right?” He asks them with barely-concealed excitement. Ochaco claps her hands together, beaming at him.

“That’s practically a yes!” She tells him, he hopes she’s right.

When a week passes by without Bakugo making any move to indicate he’s agreed to their arrangement, Shouto tries hard to mask his disappointment. He knew not to get his hopes up lest they get crushed but his friends made it sound like Bakugo’s already agreed to marry him.

Shouto, of course, knows better than to show his disgruntlement. He goes on with his life pretending that both Bakugo and Mineta don’t exist, which is hard because Bakugo is the loudest person to ever exist- even louder than Endeavor- and Mineta won’t back off no matter how much the girls antagonize and prank him.

Case in point, Shouto is vibrating in his seat at the kitchen table, too tense to pretend to drink his coffee. The previous night’s nightmares play on an infinite loop behind his eyelids like a bad quality video, sending shots of irritation and irrational fear through his entire body. The early rays of morning light should calm him down, he knows, but not when Mineta is sitting directly opposite to him, staring at him unwaveringly.

He keeps his eyes on his All Might mug, a dumb present from Denki for his birthday, urging the coffee in it to disappear so he can get up, wash it and go somewhere he can pretend the color purple doesn’t exist. 

What he doesn’t anticipate, however, is the slam of ceramic plate right next to his mug. He nearly jumps out of his skin, though he’d deny it to anyone who asks outright, looking at the contents of the plate. 

It’s filled with fluffed out pancakes, drowned in an unhealthy amount of sweet syrup- exactly how he likes it- and on top of the pile, there are a few raspberries decorating it. He blinks, somehow expecting the pancakes to speak and explain why they are suddenly in front of him.

Then he notices the hand still hanging on to the plate.

Crimson eyes meet his and it’s like he’s pinned in place. There’s intensity there, sure, but the intensity he’s used to. What he’s not used to is the playfulness in Bakugo’s intent gaze, like he’s sharing an inside joke that only Shouto has the key to unlock. It’s unfair how much it rattles his heart in his ribcage. 

His breath hitches momentarily, unused to the close proximity the blond is standing at. Their faces are inches apart and suddenly the kitchen beyond him seizes to exist. Shouto thinks it can be on fire right now and he would be none the wiser.

“You need a healthy breakfast, babe. Eat up.”

Huh?

Did Bakugo Katsuki just refer to him as ‘babe’? Did Bakugo Katsuki make pancakes just for Shouto? Nevermind that, did Bakugo Katsuki just plant a tender kiss on Shouto’s forehead? 

Jesus Christ, yesterday’s nightmares were more credible than this.

When Bakugo leans in for that forehead kiss, Shouto instinctually squeezes his eyes shut, like the explosive hero-to-be can somehow spew fire out of his mouth, but when his lips, surprisingly soft, well-kept and entirely unlike his bitten-until-red and cracked ones, come to contact with Shouto’s forehead, he feels an ache so deep in his chest. Yearning for affection all his life can make something as simple as forehead kisses much more complicated than it is, he guesses.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to a smirk that suits Bakugo’s handsome face but somehow doesn’t feel like it’s mocking Shouto. He swallows, then risks a look with the corner of his eyes to Mineta’s last known whereabouts. The purple-headed pile of shit is sitting up straight, his mouth hanging open like his mind can’t compute what just happened.

Well, Shouto thinks,  join the club.

That’s when it comes back to him. The training session a week ago, Jirou’s suggestion, the plan to throw Mineta off. This is Bakugo saying yes, this is Bakugo playing his part. It’s not some poetic change of heart, not what Shouto is desperate for. It’s game on.

He plasters on the warmest smile he can muster with his face red as his hair and his mind in major disarray. Bakugo stares for a second longer than strictly necessary, looking for something that’s lost on Shouto.

It strikes him that he should probably thank his ‘boyfriend’ for this nice gesture.

“Thank you, darling.” He says mechanically, finding no difficulty faking gratefulness because he is grateful. Here he is, being given comfort food that accommodates his sweet tooth after an exhausting night of nightmares and practically no sleep. It’s nice, even if it’s fake. 

“I’ll get dressed and when I’m back, you better have wiped this plate clean so we can get to class, alright?” Bakugo asks, some of his characteristic fire seeping back into his voice, roughening it up a little. Shouto offers him a small smile, real this time.

“Of course.”

Then Bakugo is gone, and the huge dorm kitchen comes into focus again. Izuku is standing by the sink, his hip cocked to the side and his eyes crinkling with mirth. Shouto feels like this pose should mean something, he’s being teased at the very least. He turns to his plate hastily, ignoring the look and the warmness he can already feel creeping on his face. 

Turning, he decides, is not a good course of action because it gets him face to face with Mineta. To say his purple-headed classmate is livid would be a serious understatement. Shouto can practically feel heat radiating from the seat across from his. He doesn’t care, obviously, but the hint that their half-assed plan is working at least to some capacity is gratifying and it makes his beating heart settle in his chest. For now.

Mineta is glaring at him, like Shouto’s cheated on him or something and he does his best to hold his laugh. He keeps his face stoic, his eyes unblinking as he stares back at the bane of his existence head on.

When the grapehead realizes Shouto isn’t messing around and is feeling zero remorse about putting a dent in his perverted plans, he groans loudly, so loud that it must reach all corners of their dormitories before he stumbles out of his chair and stomps out of the kitchen, huffing and muttering under his breath.

Only when he’s out of sight does Shouto dig into his pancakes, stopping the satisfied moan coming out of his mouth at the last second. 

It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. And to think he didn’t even notice Bakugo coming into the kitchen, making this in absolute silence then handing it to him like some sort of attentive mother hen, which is exactly how he is with his real friends, Shouto can’t comprehend it.

“Darling, huh?” This time, he does jump out of his chair, fork clattering on the table. 

“Izuku, you know the plan!” He admonishes the greenette who took the seat next to him with him noticing. The knowing look on his face is embarrassing, Shouto wishes he could wipe it off.

“I do know the plan, I just never knew Kacchan is going through with it.” He says thoughtfully, turning to his bowl of cereals.

Shouto takes another bite, chews slowly then swallows.

“Me neither, but I guess it’s happening now.” He tells his best friend, suddenly feeling the air growing somber. The teasing dies down and in its place is careful pondering.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” Izuku tells him, his eyes unreadable. 

Shouto thinks he understands what his friend is getting at. He likes Bakugo, way more than what’s considered platonic and up until this point, Bakugo has shown no signs of reciprocating. In fact, Shouto is sure there’s no way Bakugo can feel the same way. He gets why Izuku would be worried. Mineta hitting on him is nothing, because Mineta means nothing. Doing something of any romantic nature with Bakugo, however, is everything because Bakugo means everything. He can think of a thousand ways just on the top of his head in which things can go wrong.

Izuku is scared for him, because a blow from Bakugo will not be a soft one, not as the blond delivers it and certainly not when he receives it. His crush right now is only theoretical, as long as he’s far away from the object of his affection he can bear it and move on. Once he gets close though, there’s not a scenario he can think of where he can come out winning, unless, of course, Bakugo decides to like him back which- nope, he will not consider that as a viable option.

The phantom feeling of soft lips pressing against his forehead comes to his mind unsolicited and suddenly he knows, he’s already hooked.

“I will.” He promises, trying to ignore the distant feeling in his chest telling him that it might be too late.

“Oi, Icyhot, are you ready to leave?” They both turn at the loud sound to Bakugo, standing at the kitchen doorway already dressed in UA uniform, except for his jacket which he’s holding over one shoulder.

He looks the same as every day yet Shouto can’t help the blush making its way to his cheeks again. It’s not his fault Bakugo looks like that, he reasons with himself.

“Yes, let me just wash this.” He tells the blond, getting up with his surprisingly empty plate. He doesn’t remember finishing it but he considers it a win, especially since he had no appetite like fifteen minutes ago.

“It’s alright Shouto, I got it.” Izuku tells him kindly, getting up as well and snatching the empty plate from Shouto’s hand.

He looks at him and sees nothing but unwavering support in his best friend’s eyes. He smiles.

“See you in class.” He waves then walks towards Bakugo. “Let’s go.”

Bakugo spares another glance to Izuku, eyes narrowing before he complies, backing out of the kitchen. Shouto follows.

They walk to school in silence that is not entirely comfortable. After all, Bakugo just made him breakfast. And called him ‘babe’. And gave him a kiss on the forehead. A kiss he is never going to stop thinking about now that he had it.

Natsuo would call his standards woefully low.

“Do you think Purple Balls bought it?” Bakugo asks gruffly, looking straight ahead.

“He was really angry after you left so yes, we’re probably doing something right.” He tells him.

A grunt is his only answer.

“You know, I’m glad you agreed.” He tries his hand at normal conversation, expecting an abrupt end followed by unwanted explosions but Bakugo does none of that.

“No way in hell I would’ve passed up a chance to terrorize that fucker.”

“Do you think he’ll back off now?” He asks. He really doesn’t want Mineta to back off, only because it would cut this truce between him and Bakugo very short. Of course, he doesn’t say that.

“I still have a lot of plans in case he doesn’t, I’m gonna fuck him up.” The grin he gives Shouto is absolutely feral and it does awful things to his insides, on the outside, he just nods dutifully.

At this rate, Bakugo is going to fuck him up.

Purple Balls did not back off. 

In fact, he full-on proposed to Icyhot in the cafeteria the next day. Like, actually proposed, with flowers and everything. He even got the school choir to play a blasted wedding theme song, right where everyone fucking eats.

Katsuki’s fists clenched, ready to bash his head in, then the dual-haired future hero said no in this simpleminded manner of his, not caring about the goddamn comedy scene he was starring in. Hysterical laughter filled the building while Trashcan just narrowed his eyes, as if trying to comprehend how he lost this round. 

If it had been anyone else, Katsuki would’ve felt bad but since it was fucking Mineta and since he looked like he couldn’t care less about being the class clown, well, who was Katsuki to care?

Calling for a meeting to decide what to do next is the wisest course of action for aspiring number one heroes like himself, so that’s what he does. 

And that’s how he has a bed full of the fire and ice user in his snowflake-patterned pyjamas. Yes, you heard him right. Snowflakes.

It’s weird, seeing the normally tense and stoic future hero this laid-back and relaxed, especially around him. Granted, Katsuki lost his title as a threat after that embarrassing display with breakfast.

His current pain in the ass is sitting upright in the corner of his bed, chewing at the end of his pen in what should be a disgusting manner but only manages to look adorable. Katsuki has to pinch his arm discreetly to stop thinking such embarrassing thoughts.

“Let’s review the facts.” The pyjama-clad hero breaks the silence quietly, eyes on his notebook. Why he needs a notebook is beyond Katsuki but he doesn’t comment.

“He didn’t buy our act, there’s not much to review here.”

“Denki says he thinks I enlisted your help- which I did but no one’s supposed to know that.” He starts listing the facts using his fingers to count, ignoring Katsuki. “He’s scared of you, you should’ve seen him yesterday morning. And we need to up our game, we can’t just stop at eating together in the cafeteria or sitting next to each other in the common room.”

The blond rolls his eyes, getting up from his desk chair 

Ah, the sacrifices he’s making for this noble cause.

“We need to kiss, Icyhot.”

Mismatched eyes fly up in wild panic and Katsuki would laugh if his heart wasn’t beating so vigorously in his chest. He’d be lying if he said this suggestion isn’t entirely self-serving but he’d also rather die before he admits it out loud. No, on the outside he’s wearing a poker face, pretending that this is just a necessity for their elaborate plan.

When he takes too long to answer, Katsuki turns to find his mouth hanging open and his face tomato red.

“Don’t tell me.” He starts slowly, his crimson eyes narrowed. Candy cane snaps his mouth shut then swallows uneasily.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Of course he hasn’t! Between his isolated childhood and his time at UA, it would make sense that he hasn’t really found anyone to share it with.

Part of Katsuki feels bad, because his classmate’s first kiss should be authentic but another, bigger part of him feels juvenile excitement at the prospect of being his crush’s first kiss, even if it’s for the sake of pretence.

“No?” Said crush answers shakily, looking anywhere but at Katsuki.

“Will that be a problem?” He asks the one question he’s been dreading since he brought it up in the first place. 

It’s common knowledge at this point that Todoroki Shouto is not straight. The exact label remains a mystery, or at least not something divulged to Katsuki, not that he cares. So he knows that Todoroki would not have any issue kissing a boy. Would he have any issues kissing him, that’s what makes his heart beat erratically in his chest.

“No! I’m gay! I don’t mind kissing you! I mean, do you mind? Are you gay? Oh fuck, that’s not what I meant to ask! I mean-” The dual-haired future hero is flailing at this point, blushing up a storm and looking at Katsuki with honest-to-god fear in his eyes.

“Tch, halfie, get a hold of yourself.” He orders gruffly, Todoroki’s breath hitches audibly. “I am gay, and I don’t mind kissing you.”

That has to be, by far, the most embarrassing line he’s ever said since he stepped foot into this school. But the embarrassment and the mortification currently strangling him are worth the timid little smile that flickers on Icyhot’s face.

Making him smile is shaping up to be the greatest achievement Katsuki’s capable of. And he’s capable of a lot.

It’s a few days after their discussion and the kiss has yet to come true. Sure, it’s been a busy week consisting mainly of grueling training sessions and mind-numbing midterms. Yet it feels like the right moment to kiss is never there. It doesn’t escape Shouto’s notice that Bakugo never tries to initiate it with any of their classmates around, like he’s embarrassed. It hurts a little, he admits, but consent is important and he wouldn’t want Bakugo to do anything he isn’t comfortable with. 

Even if he’s the one who suggested kissing in the first place, a traitorous inner voice grumbles in his head. Maybe Bakugo likes to be fashionably late, another voice argues. It would make sense, since it took him a week to be on board with the girls’ plan in the first place. So if his short-tempered classmate is a creature of habit, he should be expecting that kiss anytime soon.

Shouto allows a slither of hope to nestle into his chest that today might be the day. A day off where everyone gets to do whatever they want has to be it. The girls went out, asked him if he’d like to join but he opted for a lie-in in his room and the boys were fooling around in the common room. He was planning to join them once he’s done with… whatever it was he was pretending to be doing right now.

“Shouto?” A knock on his door stops his inner pondering and he jumps up from his futon. “Are you in there?”

“Yes! One second!” He throws away his planning notebook to the side, pats his hair to make sure it’s presentable then hurries to get the door.

It’s Izuku on the other end, hand hanging up in the air like he was about to knock again. He smiles brightly once his eyes fall on Shouto.

“Hey! I was sent by the high and mighty Ramsay Katsuki to escort you to dinner!”

Shouto just stares at his best friend, blinking.

“‘Ramsay’?” He asks dumbly, feeling like he’s missing something.

“Gordon Ramsay? Bakugo Katsuki’s twin separated at birth?” Shouto blinks again, Izuku just smiles bigger. “It’s okay, I’ll send you some links. Now let’s go, Kacchan made soba the way you like it.”

“For me?” He asks weakly, allowing himself to get dragged by the elbow outside his room. He only gets a brief chance to slam his door shut before Izuku bodily hoists him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Shouto lets out an embarrassing yelp as he holds onto his best friend’s shoulder tightly, vaguely noting how tall Izuku’s gotten lately.

“Fuck, you’re tall.” He voices his thoughts airily, wondering if his worn white sweater and black jeans are a look fit for company as Izuku starts descending down the stairs. The green-haired future hero lets out a surprised laugh.

“Drink your milk, Todoroki Shouto. You can be tall too.” He says in his trusty All Might impression and Shouto tries his hardest not to choke on his laughter. He feels a lot better than he did a few minutes ago when his only company was himself. 

“Wait, did you say Bakugo made soba?”

His heart does stupid somersaults, beating so loud in his chest he’s scared it would burst. He squirms a little so Izuku will put him down. His friend complies, carefully lowering him to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Shouto’s shoulders to steady him. It takes him a second to realize they’re already on the first floor, rowdy laughter permeating from around the corner into the common room.

“He’s been in the kitchen since nine in the morning, I think he made it from scratch. It’s actually pretty sweet, Mineta-scheme and all.” The greenette explains energetically but his eyes don’t leave Shouto, like he’s gauging his reaction.

“Oh,” He says for lack of better words. He can’t quite name the feeling in his chest, but he thinks it’s as close to fluttering butterflies as it can get. Ochako would be so proud of him if she heard his inner monologue. 

“That’s… r-really nice.” He surmises eventually, trying his hardest to school his features to mask his excitement at the prospect of tasting Bakugo’s infamous cooking. Izuku’s wide grin in response tells him he’s not really done a good job.

“Let’s go.” He clasps Shouto’s wrist with his hand then drags him in the general direction of the kitchen. They both ignore the ruckus in the sitting area and move straight into the open-plane kitchen. Shouto’s heart stutters when his eyes land on Bakugo, broad chest clad in a taut dark wifebeater and black basketball shorts. He wonders briefly if Momo would still think that a monocolor outfit had no redeeming qualities if she saw Bakugo looking this hot so effortlessly. He’s standing at the kitchen table, adding last touches to the assortment of plates laid out across it.

“Your delivery is here, Kacchan!” Izuku beams at the blond, manhandling Shouto into a seat. 

Bakugo glares at his childhood friend but there’s not much heat behind it. 

“Tch, get out of here.” He orders gruffly, not saying anything to acknowledge Shouto. He can’t see Izuku when he’s seated with his back to him like this but he swears he hears his shit-eating grin get bigger. With one last pat on Shouto’s shoulder, which earns him a disdainful look from Bakugo, he gets out of the kitchen.

Shouto stays silent for another moment, eyeing the plate in front of him with a dazed look. He didn’t notice it earlier but now with food in front of him, he remembers how absolutely starving he is.

“Eat up, we have a show to get rolling.”

Oh! It’s happening, it’s happening now! Shouto swallows in anticipation then picks up the pair of chopsticks sitting neatly next to the bowl of soba.

“Itadakimasu.” He says, voice faint. 

He eats slowly, aware of the crimson eyes watching his every move like a hawk. Maybe Bakugo is waiting for his opinion on the food?

“This is really good, Bakugo, thank you.” He tells him somewhat shyly, aware of the heat in his cheeks.

“Whatever.” Bakugo says not unkindly, turning his head away. Shouto is thrilled to see pink creeping up through his neck to dust his cheeks, he resists the urge to touch.

He eats up the rest of his bowl as fast as he can afford to without choking, excitement thrumming through his veins at the prospect of kissing his heart’s desire, even if it’s all acting.

“Oi Katsuki! Denki’s worried you’re defiling the kitchen, you better not be proving him right!” 

Shouto doesn’t jump but it’s a close call, Bakugo just shakes his head fondly, already used to his best friends’ loud- and rather embarrassing- teasing. Then he turns that fond smile on Shouto and Shouto stops breathing for a second.

For someone who isn’t seen without his significant glare often, or at all really, Bakugo has a rather nice smile. His lips are barely upturned but Shouto suspects it’s the lack of downturn that makes his expression so painfully soft, the space between his eyes uncharacteristically relaxed and flat. He’s staring openly but Bakugo doesn’t seem to notice, still looking at him with contemplation in his eyes.

“Let’s go.” He says mildly, holding out his hand palm-up. Shouto takes it without thinking, shoving all thoughts into the dark caverns of his mind, he can freak out about everything that’s happening later in the confines of his room.

He’s hauled to his feet with one strong tug then together they walk towards the common room. Shouto can’t help but notice how nicely Bakugo’s calloused hand fits against his warmer hand.

“So what if we are, fuckers?” The blond challenges as they emerge to the sitting area, his hold tightening around Shouto’s somewhat reassuringly. 

So what if they’re what? He asks himself before remembering Kirishima’s teasing question a second ago. Pink dusts his cheeks for what must be the hundredth time since this whole thing started but he can’t help but admire Bakugo’s unapologetic attitude. 

“Way to go, Bakubro! We’re proud of you! You too, Shouto!” Hanta congratulates them, voice completely serious, while Denki and Izuku cheer in the background. The three of them are sitting on the sofa opposite the TV. Iida is sitting next to Kirishima on the loveseat, looking deeply disturbed by the concept of his classmates doing it in a public area while Kirishima just gives Shouto a thumbs up when their eyes meet. Shouto smiles involuntarily at their dumb antics.

As Bakugo drags him to the other loveseat in the room, Shouto catches sight of Mineta out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the beanbag at the far corner and looking at both of them with contempt. Shouto’s smile widens. He swears he could see steam coming out of his nose and ears.

Bakugo sits down next to Koda- who startles and starts shaking in honest-to-god fear- on the other loveseat, leaving virtually no space for Shouto to sit. Before he can agonize over where to sit, Bakugo pulls his arm with one strong tug.

When Shouto woke up this morning, the most contact he thought he’d get from the outside world was a fake kiss from his brash crush. Nowhere in his mind did he predict it ever coming to this.

With him splayed in Bakugo’s lap, with the blond’s strong arms wrapped securely around his waist.

Shouto’s brain short circuits in a very Denki fashion, making him blink sluggishly at nothing in particular while his friends wolf-whistle and tease obnoxiously in the background. He knows no one knows about their plan except the girls and Izuku, so he knows that the boys are just being… well, boys. That knowledge, however, does not settle the insistent thumping of his heart.

His chest feels hot. From of one to holy-fuck-can-the-ground-swallow-me-up-right-now, he knows that the warmth across his torso is a sign of a conclusive ten on his embarrassment chart. Just like he knows that his face is absolutely burning right now.

“Is this okay?” Bakugo asks in his ear when the commotion dies down and their classmates’ attention returns to the game they’re playing. The blond’s voice is low and there’s a throaty pulse to it that turns Shouto’s insides to goo, coupled with the sensation of Bakugo’s chest falling and rising against his back, completely calm despite Shouto’s erratic heartbeat opposite to it.

He can’t say anything without squeaking so he gives a disjointed nod, careful not to attract unwanted attention to it.

Yes, Bakugo. He wants to say, this is more than fucking okay.  

He says nothing though, and he doesn’t know if it’s in fear of getting blasted two cities over or for fear of exposing his humiliating weakness to physical affection. Or affection altogether.

He relaxes against Bakugo’s hold after a few minutes, telling himself that this is a chance he may never get again as he nestles his head against the sturdy chest with little hesitance. Bakugo rests his chin on it in response and Shouto can’t help the content sigh escaping his lips.

His gaze travels lazily to the TV screen where Denki is destroying Ojiro in Mario Kart, with the latter cursing up a storm from his position at the foot of the couch. No one’s paying them any mind, everyone too busy fighting over who’s gonna win between the pair of blonds hogging the console.

“Heads up at your 11 o’clock, a big bag of steamy shit is about to do something stupid.” The current bane of his existence husks into his ear, lips brushing lightly against the lope. He would’ve jumped ten feet up if he wasn’t feeling so boneless in the explosive hero’s tender hold.

He turns to where Bakugo alerted him, embarrassed to admit that it takes him a second to determine where his eleven o’clock actually lies, and finds Mineta flailing to get off the beanbag.

It’s a hilarious sight, downplayed by Bakugo’s humourless tone in the warning. Their classmate’s short stature isn’t helping him as he tries to land on his feet after being practically swallowed up by the giant beanbag. A tiny snort escapes him at how utterly furious the purple-head is over something so silly before he schools his face into a somber expression when he’s at the receiving end of said fury.

He’s convinced that the brief tightening of Bakugo’s arm around his slim waist is a figment of his imagination but he’s warm at the thought either way.

Mineta stalks to the loveseat they’re occupying, eyes intent and a little manic if he’s honest, and he faces him with little to no expression. He can feel Bakugo mirroring his look, can feel the heat radiating off his head and it takes all his willpower not to turn.

It turns out he doesn’t need to, because once Mineta comes to a halt in front of the loveseat looking like he’s looming over them but is really standing on his tiptoes to be on the same level as their eyes, two calloused fingers come up to Shouto’s chin and turn him away from the sticky hero towards the face he’s longing to stare at forever.

Crimson irises are shining with a determination he only sees when it comes to academics or hero training and the usual angry scowl is nowhere to be seen, replaced with a soft, almost tentative look that grips his heart and squeezes.

Shouto knows what’s coming, of course he does, he’s been waiting for it since they first talked about it.

He pinches his eyebrows in concentration before thinking ‘oh well, this might as well happen ’.

They both move in at the same time, spurred by mutual agreement and a sense of excited anticipation. With the first press of Shouto’s dry and chapped lips to Bakugo’s well-kept and smooth ones, he finds that, while fireworks and the world tilting off its axis are not really what’s happening right now, thank-you-very-much-Uraraka, there’s a wave of genuine euphoria engulfing his entire body. Like his brain is sending signals to every last one of his nerves, spreading the good news that Shouto is finally, finally kissing the man he loves.

Something about the thought unsettles him so he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid of ruining it with his overthinking and inexperience and letting Bakugo take the lead. 

It comes naturally to the blond, who lets his tongue run smoothly and wetly over Shouto’s bottom lip. 

The sigh Shouto lets out through his nose could be described as content as he allows the probing tongue to go past his lips and into his mouth, paying absolutely no attention to the world outside their little bubble.

Bakugo’s hot tongue catches his own like a panther latching on prey, rolling it over his own over and over until the sounds escaping their lips are utterly obscene. If no one was heeding them any attention before they definitely are now but Shouto can’t find it in him to care.

Not when the wet tongue he’s beginning to fall in love with abandons his own and starts tracing the insides of his mouth, over his teeth and against the inside of his cheeks, like he’s committing it all to memory.

Oh how good it would feel if that were actually true.

He’s acutely aware of his lungs starting to protest at the lack of oxygen but he doesn’t want to give it up, doesn’t want to be the one to pull away.

Thankfully- or not, Shouto hasn’t decided if he prefers to die from a kiss or die because the kiss stopped- Bakugo is the one who pulls away. 

Shouto blinks his eyes open slowly, meeting the blond’s heated gaze and the gulp of breath he just took hitches in his throat at the dangerous proximity, afraid that Bakugo might see something in his eyes, something close to the truth.

The gaze doesn’t linger because the world outside their little bubble comes into focus in a startling burst and the hooting and hollering around them makes it impossible for Shouto to survive the embarrassment.

“Holy shit, man, that was hot!” Sero compliments- is that really a compliment? Shouto has no idea- while Kirishima fake-swoons, laying dramatically over Izuku who’s smiling indulgently at the redhead’s silly antics. Iida looks a curious mix between awkward and proud, which eases a bit of the dual-haired hero’s nerves. The cheering is still going on, Denki wolf whistles with admirable strength, Shouto will have to ask him to teach him that someday, he casts a look behind him to find Koda blushing faintly.

Ah, he must’ve heard a lot of… unwanted noises, being closest to the fake couple.

However, he cracks a timid smile when he catches Shouto’s eyes.

“I’m h-happy for y-you, Todoroki-kun.” The simple statement makes him smile momentarily before his heart drops, the weight of their lie catching up to him.

Here he is, sitting on Bakugo’s lap, lips probably swollen and pink after getting kissed to within an inch of his life in front of most of their friends, all while maintaining the illusion that Bakugo enjoyed this as much as he did. 

The revelation is like getting dumped in ice cold water but Bakugo, who proved to be a knight in shining armor in more ways than one, interrupts his torturous thoughts.

“Tch, shut the fuck up, extras! Let’s go, Icyhot, before these dumbasses embarrass us into an early death.” He grunts in characteristic stiffness but it’s not the truly embarrassed kind that Shouto expects from someone who was forced to kiss his classmate and that little thought gives him hope. 

He scrambles up, letting the blond reclaim his hand and pull him towards the stairs, both of them ignoring the cheers behind them.

It doesn’t occur to Shouto to look back at Mineta or gauge his reaction, not even once.

And well, he can’t help but notice that Bakugo doesn’t look back either.

Maybe this is not as strictly by-the-plan as he imagines.

Sleeping in the same room seemed like the only logical consequence to whatever the fuck happened in the common room. After all, they needed to cement the idea that they were together into their classmates' head and what better way to do that than enter the same room after a heavy- and rather heavenly though Katsuki will never say that out loud- makeout session. 

So Katsuki offers up his own as he tries to bury the memories of eager lips pressed against his own further down. Todoroki remains oddly silent until he’s fast asleep on the spare futon, Katsuki tried offering up his bed but Todoroki was pretty adamant on not ‘inconveniencing’ him any more, whatever the fuck that meant.

Which is why Katsuki is lying in his bed in the dark room illuminated only by the scarce rays of silvery moonlight, staring at his ceiling and wondering if he can ever forget about the delight of having Todoroki Shouto’s timid lips against his.

To say the kiss was nice would be a disservice, because nice couldn’t even begin to describe the warm contentment rushing through him when Icyhot kissed him back. He may have neglected to tell him this but that kiss was his first as well, and it was one hell of a first.

He’s not ashamed to admit that he spent a few minutes every night trying to imagine how a kiss should go, what to do and what to not do to make it enjoyable for them both and well, Katsuki never puts his mind to something without perfecting it.

For him, it was perfect.

He’s aware he’s acting like a love-struck teenager and Pikachu would never let him live it down if he caught a sliver of his thoughts but isn’t that what he essentially is? A love-struck teenager?

He thinks, maybe he does love his classmate. Maybe he went into this knowing full well that he was playing with fire, knowing he could be fueling his already developing crush. This ploy, while being the chance he needed to get closer to Todoroki without having to explain himself, was like jumping off a cliff without a safety net.

The cliff, of course, is Icyhot’s dumbly attractive personality. There was a time when Katsuki thought he was just shallow and arrogant but now, he knows this can’t be further from the truth. These past weeks made the blond aware of a few precious facts.

Todoroki isn’t always silent because he’s brooding, sometimes he wants to speak but can’t find his voice, can’t be sure his input is wanted, so he prefers to just listen. He’s very excitable, quick to smile when confronted with an interesting prospect. He’s incredibly observant, mainly because he’s always silent, eyes darting to every corner, taking in any information he can gather. 

He’s, surprisingly, easy to talk to. It’s insane how good he is at listening, not just to what’s being said but to what’s unsaid. Katsuki would’ve never guessed, considering how awkward he is around any serious conversation. True, he has trouble differentiating between serious and jest but it’s adorable instead of annoying.

Katsuki is so lost in his thoughts he almost misses the inaudible gasp on the floor next to him. When he turns, Todoroki’s eyes are wide open and even with the weak light source, Katsuki can make out the terror in them.

He sits up slowly so he wouldn’t startle him, noting how he follows the movement with his eyes hawkishly. 

“Hey,” He placates slowly, holding his hands up, “nightmare?”

Todoroki blinks a few times, registering what he’s asked. Then he nods shakily, letting out an unsteady exhale. Katsuki drops down on the floor next to him but keeps a safe distance between them, pulling his knees to his chest.

He wracks his brain for something to say. He’s no stranger to nightmares, especially ones so strong they wake you up paralised and scared out of your mind. Katsuki may scream and shout but when his subconscious provides him with unpleasant dreams, he reacts quietly, almost delicately.

He remembers he also wakes up thirsty.

Looking around, he spots his water bottle on the nightstand, snatches it and hands it to his quiet classmate wordlessly. Todoroki takes it but not before giving him a grateful but curt nod.

“Is that why you don’t sleep much?” He asks casually as the older boy takes a sip, trying to hide the underlying tone of concern.

Todoroki contemplates his answer for a second before nodding, placing the water bottle next to the futon. He adjusts the threadbare blanket over his legs then lays down on his back, hands folded over his chest as he stares at the ceiling.

It doesn’t feel like closure for their conversation so Katsuki scoots closer to him then mirrors his position, aware of how their arms are brushing against each other.

“I still have nightmares too.” He admits sheepishly, not sure where the need to reassure him came from. “Not as bad as they were before counseling but you know… They don’t really go away.”

He feels more than sees Todoroki’s gaze on him. He doesn’t turn until that attentive gaze is lifted.

“Some of them are about you.” The quieter boy tells him out of nowhere, Katsuki turns to him mildly.

“I am not that bad.” He teases, voice mellow. He doesn’t know what it is about the atmosphere that makes him so calm and pliant but if it keeps Icyhot from panicking then he’ll live with it.

The dual-haired hero chokes out a low laugh. Katsuki smiles at the ceiling, safe in the knowledge that it probably can’t be seen in the dark.

“Not like that,” He clarifies croakily. “They’re usually about that night…”

He turns his whole body to face Katsuki, fiddling with his hands nervously. He has an idea of the night in question. After all, it haunts him too.

Katsuki turns his body towards him too, keeping his body language open and inviting. 

He remembers the details of that night vividly, the calloused hand around his throat, the cold mist enveloping his body to warp and the look of utter despair on the young traumatized face of his so-called rival. He remembers the last scream of ‘Kacchan’, so guttural and pained it echoed even when they emerged in the dark base he was kept in. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

It’s three years too late, Katsuki doesn’t know how it escaped him to say it until now. In the dim illumination he sees Todoroki’s eyes widen, hears the sharp intake of breath, turning wobbly towards the end and he wonders absently if anyone ever bothered to tell Todoroki this.

“It wasn’t, it took me some time to figure out that it wasn’t mine either.” He states slowly, each word deliberate and strong, as if it will lodge itself into the older boy’s brain.

There was a time before his mandatory therapy sessions when he wouldn’t have said this, or said it and meant none of it. But now, with Todoroki lying so close to him, his mismatched eyes screaming insecurity and doubt, he feels the truth in them.

After all, he knows firsthand the guilt of not being enough. And his stomach churns at the idea that someone so kind and genuine could feel that way too.

Evidently, it’s something Todoroki is longing to hear because all too suddenly he picks up a heart-wrenching whimper and when he meets the mix of gunmetal and cerulean eyes he sees them overflowing with tears.

He tenses, body coiled to act when he starts crying in earnest. His hands hover, not sure where to touch but desperate to offer comfort.

“Can I…” He starts before faltering, not sure if he’s welcome when Todorok’s sniffles then cries harder. “Can I hug you?”

His voice feels foreign coming out of his throat so tender, he feels a sort of disconnection between how he perceives himself and how he wants to be in this moment.

Todoroki stares at him, looking for any sign of hesitation or awkwardness and finding none. He nods weakly.

It’s as easy as muscle memory to open his arms and embrace the shivering body of the boy he loves in his arms. Perhaps it’s how he always fantasized about being one of the people Todoroki feels safe with, perhaps it’s the fire in his chest urging him to never let anyone hurt him again but Katsuki brings him even closer, running his fingers through the soft mismatched strands. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He soothes, rubbing his left hand soothingly up and down the dual-haired boy’s back. Goosebumps break over his collarbone and chest when Todoroki buries his head further against them, sobbing noiselessly. 

He continues to shush him, stroking his back mechanically as he waits for the sobs to subside. It hurts something awful in his chest, listening to the wounded sounds muffled into his neck. He wishes he could take him and hide him somewhere none of this despair and helplessness could reach, not because he loves him, but because he doesn’t deserve to be going through this. He doesn’t deserve sleepless nights filled with guilt over what he should’ve done, he doesn’t deserve to doubt himself when he has none of the flaws he believes exist inside him, and he doesn’t deserve to feel so damn alone when he’s surrounded by people who love him. He deserves love.

And Katsuki loves him. 

Later, when he’s breathing softly into Katsuki’s neck, sleeping wrapped in his arms, only does Katsuki notice that there is no Mineta around to play pretend for.

The farce continues for another week and Shouto tries to ignore the fact  that he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of their purple-haired classmate. Bakugo continues to dote on him, be it in public or in the safety of one of their rooms and Shouto can’t help but feel a shift in the dynamics between them.

He can chalk it up to his overactive imagination but sometimes Bakugo’s voice sounds a little bit softer, his expressions a little less gruff and his eyes a little less sharp, like he doesn’t have to stay on edge when Shouto’s his only company. 

In short, Shouto is so close to believing his own lie.

Ever since he woke in the blond’s room, his ears ringing and his chest aching in that familiar repressed pain, only to be held tightly but his so-called rival and soothed gently when his tears get the better of him, Shouto has to restrain himself from coming clean to Bakugo.

While the thought of rejection physically pains him to the point of panic, he feels like he can’t live through another private smile, another tender touch, or another chaste kiss without making sure the object of his affection knows what it means to him.

Things come to a head in the least expected way.

They’re sitting in the common room with the Bakusquad- he really wants to freeze Mina’s ass for making the name stick- and it’s quiet for a Saturday night, everyone taking the weekend as a chance to visit their families or catch up on sleep before the semester picks up speed again.

They’re watching a movie, Denki’s choice, and Shouto doesn’t pay it any mind, focused on his phone as he texts Izuku, who’s away to spend the day with his mother. He’s conscious of Bakugo’s body splayed right next to him on the loveseat they claimed as theirs; but for once, they’re not cuddling. 

When Shouto steals a glance at his fake boyfriend, he finds him oddly invested in the action going on TV. 

Izuku (21:03): mom says hi btw!!

Izuku (21:03): and congrats, apparently?

Izuku (21:04): auntie mitsuki told her ur dating kacchan?

He stares at the screen for a few seconds, unsure how to respond to such a revelation.

“Oi, Bakubro, tell your boyfriend to put his phone away, this is a respectable hangout sesh.” Denki’s drawl draws his attention away from his phone.

Bakugo doesn’t look away from the TV.

“Tch, I’m not his damn keeper.”

It’s not different from Bakugo’s usual speech but the little excitement he felt at the possibility that Bakugo told his mother they were dating gets snuffed out. What was he even excited about? Can people go from fake-dating to real-dating without having one conversation about it? Seriously, what is Shouto even expecting here?

But Mineta hasn’t bothered him in a week. He hasn’t even seen his purple-haired classmate outside of class in a week. Surely, that has to count for something?

If Bakugo didn’t feel at least something, wouldn’t he have called the thing off when they both realized their plan came to fruition?

“Funny, I thought keepers and boyfriends had the same job description.” Denki teases goodheartedly, attention focused completely on them now.

“We’re not.” Shouto cuts in before Bakugo has the chance to respond. Maybe he was about to say something scathing, maybe he was just about to insult the electricity user without any heat but Shouto can’t let him do it, not when it threatened to shatter his heart. “We’re not boyfriends.”

Now everyone’s looking at him, there’s confusion in Sero and Kiri’s eyes, there’s worry when he catches Mina’s gaze. Denki just stares at him, expression unreadable.

“Are you breaking up? Are we currently witnessing a break up? Because if so, I have bad anxiety and I don’t wanna be here for that.” Sero asks uneasily, fidgeting in his seat.

“We were never together, it was a ploy to get Mineta off my back. Mina knew.” Shouto explains monotonously, wary of the heavy silence following his statement, as if he delivered the news of an actual break up.

He tries to ignore the fast pace of his heart, tries to tell himself that this is just him putting an end to their scheme before Bakugo can do it himself.

He knows he can’t read a room very well but he’s itching to get out of this one, feeling oddly exposed. It doesn’t help that Bakugo isn’t saying anything, and Shouto’s too scared to look at him.

“Well, it was a pretty convincing ploy . I honestly thought it was real, I’m sure Mineta did too.” Denki tells him, his voice void of inflection. He’s staring at him with an unnerving gaze, like he knows something Shouto doesn’t.

“Yeah, Icyhot’s just that talented an actor.”

Shouto’s heart plummets to his feet. It seems he can’t save himself the heartache after all. It’s not even what Bakugo said, it’s the way he spit the word out, poison-laced and dismissive.

Before he has to muster a weak response to save face or pretend that the remark didn’t hurt, Bakugo gets up and storms upstairs, leaving even more awkward silence in his wake.

“Uhh…” Denki stutters out first, looking remorseful. “I probably pushed too hard… I’m gonna… you know…” He gestures around aimlessly before hurrying after Bakugo.

Kirishima exchanges a glance with Mina before poking Sero, “let’s go get some snacks.” They excuse themselves lamely then leave him alone with the pink-haired girl. 

Shouto stares off into space, already feeling the telltale signs of dissociation overtaking him. He knows he’s bothered but the sting left by Bakugo’s words and abrupt departure is dulled, his mind scrambling to file it away in the dark abyss of his mind.

“Shouto.” Mina calls him gently, coming to sit next to him. “Are you okay?”

He should be. Why does he feel so sad all of a sudden?

“Do you wanna go to your room? Wanna come to mine?” She asks so softly, he feels like a lost child.

“You-” He starts saying but his voice is weak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yours.”

“Alright, up we go.” She takes his hand, squeezing it before dragging him up and away from the common room.

“Want me to get the girls or do you wanna talk for now?” She asks as they climb the stairs, not letting go of his hand.

“Talk, I think we should talk.” He stammers out. He knows his friends are always up for a pick-me-up, knows they won’t hesitate to take over Mina’s room with snacks and board games and anything that can give him the distraction he craves. However, something in him wants to hold onto the thread of pain he feels right now, wants to understand what just happened and why it affected him the way it did.

And there’s no one better to bounce off ideas than Mina.

She opens her door then gestures for him to come inside, taking him by the shoulders to sit him at the edge of her bed.

“Okay, let’s talk.” She claps her hands, taking a seat at her desk chair.

Then she waits for him to gather his thoughts.

“I’m stupid.” He surmises dryly.

She doesn’t even crack a smile at his self-deprecation. 

“No, you’re not.” She counters evenly.

“Then why don’t I get it?” He asks, the first traces of frustration leaking into his voice.

“Get what?”

“Bakugo! Why was he so angry? We’re not dating, right?! Mina, are we- were we, possibly, dating? Did I just ruin a perfectly good relationship? Tell me we can’t have been dating!” He spirals in panic and Mina’s eyes narrow in concentration.

“Did Katsuki explicitly say that you were dating?” She asks seriously.

“Of course not! I’m not so fucking dumb I’d miss an actual declaration of us dating!” He throws his hands up indignantly, then he inhales deeply, his shoulders slumping “could he have been hinting at the possibility? I know I’m dumb enough to miss that.”

“Sweetheart, no one’s an expert on social cues. You’re not dumb.” Mina starts gently, before tilting her head to the side, “Katsuki neglected to say anything that may indicate that this isn’t as purely platonic as you both thought it is.”

“You-” He breathes out, “you think he likes me?”

Mina’s whole expression changes, her glare vicious and downright done with him.

“Have you seen Katsuki willingly cook for anyone in the three years you’ve known him?”

“He cooks for you guys all the time.” He argues weakly, Mina looks like she’s about to chuck a shoe at his head.

“We have to pester him for days before the actual meal until he relents. Have you seen him touch anyone, a touch that didn’t immediately warrant a visit to Recovery Girl?”

Well, he had no explanation for that.

“Nevermind that! Have you seen him tolerate anyone’s presence for more than thirty minutes at a time? And I mean anyone!”

No, he hasn’t.

“Have you seen him kiss someone? Have you seen him exert so much effort on a relationship that, for all intents and purposes, is fake?!”

He stares at his friend breathing heavily like she just ran a marathon, looking so sure of something that only felt like a dream to Shouto. 

Now that he thinks about it, Bakugo’s involvement throughout their dumb scheme was way beyond what would be expected of anyone in his place. His initial reasoning for agreeing was to mess with their classmate but was that really it? Did Bakugo do all these things just to piss off Mineta, who wasn’t even around for half of it?

Did he walk with him to school for the past three weeks so Mineta would be angry? Did he make him his favorite food just to make the purple-head jealous? Did he kiss him so damn softly out of spite? Did he hold him tightly at night so that-

No.

None of these things were done with Mineta in mind.

Perhaps that was the hint all along.

His eyes sting before his vision starts blurring.

“No, Shouto, Shouto, why are you crying?” Mina fusses, rolling her chair closer to him so they’re sitting knee-to-knee. She takes his hands in hers and squeezes.

He can’t stop the tears once they’re out, he fumbles, trying to dry his face on his shoulders as to not pull away from Mina.

“Hey,” She says softly, plucking a Kleenex from somewhere behind him and dabbing it at his eyes. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“I-” He tries to explain, his voice choked, “I love him.”

Before she can respond, there’s a dull thud in the direction of her door. His breath hitches as his eyes widen, staring at Mina in mortification when she turns towards the noise.

The widening of her eyes is sign enough.

He doesn’t look, doesn’t need to confirm who’s at the door. It feels too much like a fictional moment anyway.

“How much did you hear of that?” Mina asks the intruder quietly but Shouto still refuses to look. Hey, maybe if he ignores him hard enough, he’ll leave.

“Enough.” Comes the gruff reply, sending a shiver all the way to Shouto’s core.

Mina turns back to him, expression apologetic, as if she’s the reason his choice to confess is taken away from him. It’s not that bad, really, it’s like ripping off a bandage before you’re aware it’s even there.

“I’ll be right outside, okay?” She asks with a small encouraging smile but he can see through it, she won’t leave if he doesn’t want her to.

He musters up enough courage to nod reassuringly, might as well rip the bandage off all the way.

She gets up and leaves, Shouto hears some rustling from the general direction of the door. Maybe she’s giving Bakugo some reassurance too, he is her friend as well.

He still doesn’t look.

The door clicks shut and there’s only a moment of silence before he hears an exaggerated sigh coming from Bakugo’s direction.

Then all of a sudden, Bakugo’s right in front of him. In Mina’s seat, too close yet not close enough.

There’s the tiniest trace of red around his eyes but other than that, his face is as immaculate as ever. His expression is pinched in concentration, like he’s thinking of what to say.

“Just so we’re clear, this conversation is about me, right? I didn’t just walk in on you confessing your love to fucking Deku or something.” The blond asks lowly, his nose scrunched up in uncertainty.

The question surprises a giggle out of Shouto. Bakugo’s just too adorable.

“Yes, Bakugo, it is about you.” He confirms with a sniffle.

“Katsuki.” The blond says. “I want you to call me Katsuki.” 

Shouto can feel the telltale warmth on his cheeks, taken aback by the gentle request.

“Okay, Katsuki.” He complies, trying not to show how much he likes letting the name roll off his tongue. Judging by Baku- Katsuki’s blush, he probably likes it just as much.

“I don’t want you to stew too much in your doubt, so let me put it out there. I love you too.” 

And isn’t that just what he’s been dying to hear?

The look the blond is giving him is so intense he has to look away.

“I came here to make Pinky help me prepare a speech but she was occupied so I’ll just… wing it.” He tells Shouto.

“Dunce Face may have yelled at me for not making my intentions clear, he’s surprisingly brave when he wants to be.”

Shouto giggles again. “Mina yelled at me too.”

“Is that why you were crying? I’ll bomb her ass.”

“Katsuki, that’s not you winging it.” He reminds him playfully.

“Ahh,” the blond realizes, “well, here’s the thing. I thought we were dating.” He looks at Shouto as he says it, his expression coy. “I mean, we started it off as a ruse but I don’t think it ever was, for me.”

It’s disarming how this is exactly what Shouto longed to hear from Katsuki all this time.

“Remember that stupid roadtrip to the fish market in Tokyo when we were in second year?” He changes the subject abruptly, folding his hands in his laps almost shyly.

“You hated it, you picked a fight with the sushi instructor.” Shouto reminisces with a fond smile. Katsuki lets out an affronted scoff. 

“He was rolling it wrong!”

“Whatever you say, Ramsay Katsuki.” He teases the blond, feeling lighter when Katsuki opens and closes his mouth, too taken aback to retort.

“Not you too!” He huffs grumpily, looking away to give Shouto a full-view of his blushing cheek. Then he turns back to him, clearly remembering what he wanted to say.

“Anyway, that day was the day I realized that…” He stutters to a stop, blushing even harder, “that I didn’t hate you as much as I hate everyone else.”

Shouto’s heart soars at the mumbled confession and his mouth involuntarily breaks into a huge smile.

“You called me a comet goldfish.” He reminds him almost in admonishment.

“Yeah, well, you look like one.” Katsuki dismisses with a wave of his hand.

Before they can continue this trail of awkward bickering, a knock on the door cuts them off.

“Is everything okay?” Mina asks warily, voice muffled.

“Yes, Pinky, stay outside!” Katsuki shouts with the usual explosiveness and suddenly Shouto realizes something. Ever since this fake relationship started, Katsuki hasn’t shouted at him, not once. It’s like he has a tone that he only uses to speak with Shouto and then he has his normal tone that he speaks in with everyone else.

Shouto finds himself wondering how he never noticed the blond’s sincerity.

“So,” Katsuki catches his attention, his eyes intent and his posture business-like. “You love me.” 

Shouto’s breath hitches but he takes a deep calming breath, returning Katskuki’s serious gaze.

“I do.”

Katsuki’s serious frown dissolves like it was never there and in its place is a timid smile and the dual-haired future hero wishes he could take a picture of this Katsuki, the Katsuki only he is allowed to see, and keep it in his heart forever.

“And I love you.” He says matter-of-factly. 

It’s only the second time he hears it but Shouto can already tell that his reaction to those three words will always be the same, his heart racing and his face warm.

“Our feelings have nothing to do with the scheme and that purple bag of shit, right?” He asks lastly, as if this is an interrogation. Shouto nods dutifully.

“Where does that leave us?” 

Shouto ponders for a second.

“Do you want to date? For real?” He asks shyly, looking down at his hands.

Frankly, he’s expecting a yes. What he’s not expecting is a tender hand gripping his chin lightly, lifting his face up so he’s confronted with Katsuki’s eyes. His eyes, normally fiery crimson, look like they’re pools of warm wine. Shouto’s never liked the color red but when he looks at the blond like this, he thinks red is his favorite color.

“I do.”