Work Text:
honesty
FT. bakugo katsuki, gn!reader
WC. 0.5k
PROMPT. black coffee + academia
FOR. why-ami-not-dead
TAGS. idiots to lovers, accidental confession, fluff
NOTE. please do not plagiarize, repost, modify, or repost. feedback and rb’s are greatly appreciated! thank you!
“Medically cleaned sheets.”
Bakugo doesn’t know what he had expected—if he expected anything at all—but that was definitely not one of them.
“What?”
There is no ire in his voice, nothing but fondness under a layer of fatigue. His battery flashes red, yet he could not concentrate on anything other than your laugh.
“I bet you ten dollars your sheets are pristine white right now.”
[[MORE]]
You hear shuffling, swiftly followed by a dejected sigh. “I just want my room to look clean, okay?” This time, his laughter mingles with yours. Though crackled through the speaker, it sends a jolt of warmth through your chest.
Bakugo yawns, and your eyes flick towards the tick-tick-ticking clock. “It’s getting late,” you begin, guilt already burrowing into your veins. “Haven’t even told you your aesthetic yet.” His voice is a murmur, a low rumble that betrays how awake he insists he is.
“Careful, Katsuki, or it’ll seem like you miss me.”
The words slip out innocently. Nothing but casually implying that the blond might feel longing like the rest of humankind. It’s a game that you often play, toeing the line between banter, hiding true intentions of romance behind a thin veil of humor.
Bakugo, ever the good sport, usually plays along.
Part of you thinks he feels the same. Part of you believes Sero’s exasperated whispers, telling you to hurry up already through the phone hours prior. It is the same part of you that longs to intertwine your fingers with his, wishing freely that each accidental brush was an attempt at flirtation.
It is a part of you that you resent, knowing that daydreams about kissing your best friend goes against the rules of the words platonic and friendship.
You berate this part of you silently, as the line grows silent. Hovering your finger over the end call button, his voice takes you back to the present.
“And if I do?”
A breach of contract. A sharp intake of breath.
“If I tell you that I miss you—what then?”
His voice is tired. It mirrors the fatigue in your heart of keeping up the stone walls. Vulnerability had never been your strong suit, and casting iron against a fragile heart seemed the best course in the beginning.
“If I tell you that I miss you,” he trails off, and you lean in closer. Bakugo hears the shuffle of clothes and he wonders if the microphone picks up his erratic heartbeat.
“If I tell you that I miss you… will you let me?”
The final cord snaps, and all inhibition comes crashing down. The tenderness in his voice is enough to open the floodgates. Only then do you realize how much you had longed for his reciprocation. Only then do you realize you wanted this too.
You do not realize you are nodding until he prompts for your voice. “Please tell me you’re nodding.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, the ghost of a smile dancing on your lips. He mirrors it, a long sigh of relief and a weight lifted off his longing heart.
“Great. ‘Cause I was going to say you’re a mix of espresso and 7-11 noodles—and if you were free to grab either sometime.”