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Midoriya and Bakugo grew up together. This was a fact most of the class was aware off with the rivalry and all around weird dynamic the two had, but most of them forgot what it entailed to grow up with someone.
You see, Midoriya and Bakugo didn’t just grow up together, they grew up together.
The ‘they knew each other from diapers, spend most of their time together, called each other’s mom auntie’- grew up together.
It had only been recently that the bullying had really picked up steam. Around the time when they got into a bigger Middle School where just having a flashy quirk wasn’t enough to be the best in the school and Bakugo started to feel threatened.
That didn’t excuse anything he’d done, but that wasn’t currently the point. The point was that they knew each other incredibly well, even if they would deny it.
And the denying it meant others forgot. Sometimes, however, a little comment or action would remind everyone just how long of a history they had together.
Today was such a day. The class was fighting in an open field to practice in different environments and stealth. It was hot and all were tired and ready for a break, groaning in relief when Aizawa finally announced it.
Bakugo was also about to plop down somewhere, when Midoriya said: “Kacchan, ant hill,” as he pointed to a spot near Bakugo.
“Hm,” Bakugo just hummed in acknowledgment, not thanking the other, before deciding to sit somewhere else.
“What just happened, bro?” Kirishima asked.
“Ant hill,” Bakugo replied as explanation.
Kirishima still looked confused, so Midoriya explained: “The nitroglycerin smells sweet and attracts insects like ants. If he isn’t careful, he’ll be crawling with them. That happe-”
“That’s enough, nerd. I think he gets it,” Bakugo interrupted, before going back to ignoring them when Midoriya shut his mouth and turned to his own friends.
Uraraka said: “I always forget you two know each other.”
“Wha?” Midoriya replied, “We don’t know each other that well. I mean, we barely interacted constructively in Middle School.”
“You have your moments,” Momo said, “Just here and there, but it’s hard to miss and you’re probably right that it petered out with time. I mean, it barely happens now.”
“Yeah, Bakugo could glare anything you know about him away,” Uraraka giggled and the conversation moved on.
It didn’t particularly stick with Midoriya, nor anyone else for that matter and life moved on. Of course, it popped back up a few weeks or so later, when it happened again.
Midoriya wasn’t usually late for class, or just the morning in general. He liked getting up early and was usually the first one outside.
Today, however, had not been his day. He had a nightmare during the night, barely fallen asleep only to sleep through his alarm and nearly missing his station by almost falling asleep on the train ride over. All of this was topped off by the fact that he had forgotten a goddamn pen.
“Uhm, does anyone have a pen?” he asked softly.
A few people nearby held out a pen to him and he sighed. There wasn’t anything wrong with the pens, of course not, and it was real nice of them to offer at all. It was just- It was just that Midoriya wrote a lot, so he had done research into what the best pens were.
He was a pen snob! There, he said it.
He was a pen snob and he really liked the one specific sort of pen and none of his classmates had it, so he would have to make due with another pen for one day. That wasn’t even that bad, he was just being dramatic.
But his night had already been so shit and all he wanted was his nice little pen, but apparently that was too much to ask.
“Midoriya?” Fumikage asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
He was one of the few holding out a pen and Midoriya sighed, before plastering on a smile to thank the other for the pen. However, his hand never reached the pen, because Bakugo sighed before turning around and shoving a pen in his hand while he grumbled: “I don’t even know why you think these write nice. They don’t.”
In his hand there was now a pen, his pen. Well, not his pen, but one like his and he nearly teared up over it.
“Thank you, Kacchan!” he bowed.
“Tsk, don’t mention it, it’s stupid,” Bakugo huffed, turning back to the front of the class.
Later, during lunch Iida and Uraraka asked what was up with that interaction and Midoriya shrugged as he explained: “I like the ways those pens write. It’s a bit embarrassing that I’d prefer to write with them, but I do. I guess, Kacchan must have remembered.”
It was at that point that Midoriya remembered the conversation from a few weeks ago and he hummed thoughtfully to himself. For as much as he knew of Kacchan, it seemed the other still remembered a lot of him as well.
He started to pay more attention to it afterwards. While he still walked on Bakugo’s right side since the hearing in his left ear was slightly damaged, Bakugo still took the same train as him even though there was a station closer to his house, just because Midoriya used to be scared of taking the train by himself.
When they walked, they unconsciously matched paces and even when they weren’t near each other, they were aware of the others position. Midoriya thought the latter one had only been him, but then Kirishima had said: “Oh, I still have Midoriya’s notebook.”
After which Bakugo had snatched it out of his hands and thrown it directly at Midoriya, even though he was on the other side of the room and Bakugo hadn’t paid him any attention. He’d caught it, only because Bakugo had thrown a lot of stuff at him during their childhood.
More small stuff like that stacked up.
Naturally there was also bigger stuff that others in the class caught onto, like with the muttering. He knew he muttered and no one could follow him, but he couldn’t help it. It always happened when they had to give each other feedback.
“Of course if he’s up against someone with a water quirk, they could render him practically useless by using the conductivity of the water against him, so he would have to invest in hand to hand combat, because there are probably more with conductivity quirks and he would have to be able to defend himself against them and know which materials are conduc-” Midoriya muttered.
“Oi, Deku, shut up, he gets it,” Bakugo interrupted him.
“Oh, sorry, Kaminari,” Midoriya apologized.
“It’s- It’s okay, don’t worry, Midoriya,” Kaminari quickly said, “I- uhm, I just didn’t quite catch that, sorry.”
“He says your useless against conductivity quirks and you need to work on your hand to hand combat, you idiot,” Bakugo said, before Midoriya could go on a tangent again.
“You can understand that?” Kaminari asked.
“What? Of course,” Bakugo frowned, “You should have heard him when he was little, I swear aun- his mom was going to pull her hair out for a while there.”
Midoriya blushed and said: “It wasn’t that bad.”
“You failed public speaking in 7th grade, because the teacher thought you were swearing under your breath the entire time,” Bakugo raised a brow.
Some people in the class snorted as Midoriya got even redder, luckily Aizawa saved him by moving on to the next person giving feedback.
When they were walking between classes Kirishima bumped shoulders with Bakugo and said: “I always forget that you already knew Midoriya.”
“I don’t.”
“So, you understanding him and knowing in which grade he failed public speaking for mumbling, was just a freak accident?” Sero grinned.
Bakugo glared at him, but most of class 1-A had become immune to it, so he just raised a brow in return. He looked away and grumbled: “Shut the fuck up.”
“Ahw, come on, don’t be like that, bro. I think it’s very manly of you to remember stuff about your friends,” Kirishima said, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m not Deku’s friend,” Bakugo replied, shrugging off the arm before storming off.
He wasn’t that goddamned nerds friend, alright. They just used to be and the dumbass was always following him, it was almost impossible not the know things about him. And his mom was friends with auntie and it was boring to be the only two kids at gatherings, so they spend time actually talking to one another even after they stopped being close friends.
Sue Bakugo for being observant, which was a useful skill as a hero, mind you. So no, he wasn’t the nerds friend, the other had just been a constant.
Nevertheless, he hated how he noticed the other still had the stupid granola bars Bakugo used to enjoy as a kid, because he shared with the nerd and then he liked them as well or how he found himself looking in Deku’s eyes after he had managed to get himself hurt, because he would always say he was fine while his eyes would betray him.
Neither said anything about it of course, they were content to live with the truth that their lives had been interlocked and they knew each other well, without ever speaking a word about it. Well, until they had to move into the dorms that was.
Apparently all the years of familiarity got more obvious when living together.
They didn’t even get time to ease into that realization. It didn’t creep up on them like it had done before, but just happened on the first morning when Midoriya was up first and put on the kettle to make tea.
When Bakugo got up, he saw the tea Midoriya was making and just put a cup next to it with a small grumble that could be considered questioning, before he ambled off to make breakfast.
Midoriya just hummed in acknowledgment and made two cups of tea exactly like his mom used to make, because he and Bakugo had stood next to her with wonder in their eyes as she showed them how and neither had ever taken their tea differently.
Bakugo was making pancakes for everyone, like his dad used to do, because he was on the roster to make breakfast. He plated it for everyone, leaving it blank so that their could figure out their own topics, except for two. One he drenched in syrup and the other he put butter on to melt.
A few other were just in time to see them exchange a cup of tea for a plate of pancakes, while Bakugo grumbled: “All that syrup is going to rot your teeth.”
“Butter is boring though,” Midoriya mumbled back, both were tired and the whole interaction hadn’t caught up to them yet.
It did when Mina slid onto the breakfast table next to them and yawned: “You could have put butter on my pancakes too, Bakugo. Now it didn’t melt as much.”
“How the fuck would I know how you eat your pancakes, raccoon,” Bakugo asked.
“You knew Midoriya’s pancake order,” Mina pouted.
At that both were quiet for a moment, then they quickly looked away, a faint blush coloring their cheeks as they desperately ignored the others eyes. More people came to the table and Tsu asked: “Why are they looking like that, kero?”
“They realized that Bakugo knew Midoriya’s pancake order and Midoriya made Bakugo tea like he always takes it,” Mina informed her gleefully, having realized why her words made the two boys react like that.
“Ahw, how cute,” Hagakure said.
“I’m not cute,” Bakugo growled, before stuffing the last of his pancakes in his mouth and stomping off.
“Someone’s touchy,” Kaminari said. He was just walking up and had missed the conversation, luckily both Mina and Hagakure were there to inform him and he laughed at what had made his friend so touchy.
Before anyone else could be told as well, a still blushing Midoriya squeaked: “Can we please not make a big deal out of this.”
“Why?” Mina pouted.
“Yeah, it’s sweet that you two still know things about each other,” Hagakure agreed.
“It’s a bit embarrassing after so long,” Midoriya confessed, “It’s better now, but we kind of didn’t talk for a long while and Bakugo was kind of mean back then. So, it’s still weird to know that sort of stuff when we feel like we’re just getting to know the other again. And having it pointed out is a bit embarrassing because of it.”
It was quiet for a moment and Midoriya said: “Ah, sorry, it’s too early for rants like that and it’s not a big deal really, sorry-”
“Stop it, Midoriya,” Mina cut him off, “We’ll stop, or at least try.”
“Really?”
“Of course, it’s still funny, but we’re not going to be rude about it,” Kaminari said, “Though no promises.”
“Thank you,” Midoriya bowed before finishing his breakfast too and going to get ready for the day as well.
The others did try to keep that promise and it seemed even people who hadn’t been there caught onto it pretty quickly, because no one commented when Bakugo unthinkingly wrote down a snack Midoriya liked on the shopping list because it had become commonplace in the Bakugo household after Midoriya became a regular guest, nor when Midoriya knew which piece Bakugo wanted to be in a board game.
It was just something that happened and no one commented on.
Time went on and Midoriya and Bakugo leveled a big part of a fake city and solved a bit of their issues as they got on the road to friendship again.
They had mostly been just friendly with each other, but they hadn’t made an effort to spend time with each other one on one when circumstance made the time for them. It was late, probably already 3 AM and Midoriya was in the kitchen.
A nightmare had woken him and he felt too jittery to truly try and sleep again, so he went downstairs and made himself some tea. He was just about to pour it when a rough soft voice started him: “Can I have a cup too?”
He turned around and saw Bakugo, who was looking worse for wear. Midoriya smiled: “Of course, Kacchan,” and put down another cup to pour.
It was quiet in the kitchen after that. They stood near the counter and sipped their tea, not really making eye contact while still being comfortable.
When he was nearly halfway done with his tea, Midoriya asked: “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really much to talk about,” Bakugo shrugged.
“Happens often?”
“Enough.”
“Never seen you down here before.”
“I usually stay in my room, felt a bit trapped today,” Bakugo explained, “I take it you’re down here often.”
“The tea helps,” Midoriya nodded.
They fell silent again, sipping their tea and not feeling the need to talk. Maybe talking about what woke them up would be good, but neither felt the need to relive what had shaken them enough to keep them from sleeping.
Before they were done with their tea, Bakugo put on the kettle again and poured them a new cup when they were done. Instead of staying quiet and just drinking the tea, however, he said: “Wanna watch something? I think I still have the All Might cartoons in my room.”
Midoriya grinned as he remembered all the sleepovers where they tried to stay awake, but ultimately fell asleep watching those cartoons. He nodded: “Lead the way.”
And so they ended up on Bakugo’s bed, with Midoriya on his right side so that the earbuds they shared could be in Bakugo’s right ear. Midoriya leaned on his shoulder and neither said more as they watched the drawn All Might beat up fake villains.
They woke early from Midoriya’s alarm, who always got up way too early for Bakugo’s taste. He groaned: “Why do you always do that?”
“Carpe diem, Kacchan,” Midoriya grinned.
“Go carpe fucking diem somewhere else, Zuku,” Bakugo told him as he turned around in his bed.
Midoriya grinned with the return of the nickname that had been long before Deku. He slipped out of the bed and smiled: “I will, Kacchan. Oh, and Kacchan?”
“What.”
“The next time, feel free to come downstairs again. It was better with you there.”
Bakugo lifted his head to look at Midoriya. It was a vulnerable look that he still managed to make judgmental and surprised, before he burrowed his head into his pillow again and said: “Sure, whatever.”
“Bye, Kacchan,” Midoriya left the room sneakily, not minding that Bakugo hadn’t replied.
Neither spoke of the night with anyone, nor each other. At least, not during the day. At night they drank their tea and watched cartoons, usually ending in either one of their rooms, to fall asleep next to one another and to be woken by Midoriya’s alarm.
Sometimes they talked about what kept them awake, about the memories that haunted them. But mostly they were quiet, knowing the other understood and they didn’t have to talk about it, that they could be them for a moment and it would be fine.
They had seen the other at their lowest points, they didn’t have to pretend to be strong.
Their nightly tea sessions didn’t really bleed over into their day to day interaction, since it was kind of their secret. They hadn’t planned on it, but it wasn’t something you easily shared, so they kept it to themselves.
The only difference was that they got more familiar with each other again.
Respected rivals making way for friends.
Some others in the class caught onto it. It was hard to miss how they weren’t at each others throats anymore and how they sat next to each other when making homework, or how they didn’t get embarrassed about the fact that they knew how the other ate certain foods.
None, however, had realized how much closer the two had gotten again until Bakugo was annoying Midoriya. He was bored and Midoriya was doing homework. He started just saying: “Are you done yet?”
“No, I just started, Kacchan. Maybe you should start to,” Midoriya told him.
“Don’t want to.”
“Not my problem.”
A few of their fellow classmates raised their brow at Bakugo’s behavior. He always tried to be stoic and uncaring, but that had never been truly him. He just wanted attention and would be annoying to get it, especially with Midoriya, who had always given him attention freely.
Midoriya wasn’t giving him attention now. He had lost the fear for Bakugo and the starry eyed admiration also wasn’t so strong anymore, so he was writing down answers and ignoring Bakugo.
So, he poked him.
Midoriya stopped writing for a second and looked at him with a raised brow, he just looked back with a look that screamed ‘what you gonna do about it?’ and poked again. This time he got a tried sigh and look, before Midoriya went back to writing.
Poking didn’t work, so he turned to the thing he knew would work, the thing he had always done that annoyed Midoriya to no end.
When Midoriya put his pen down to write again, Bakugo smacked the top of the pen, causing him to scribble down something illegible. Midoriya exhaled annoyed, but was determined to ignore Bakugo as he attempted to write again, only for the same to happen again.
“Will you stop that, Kacchan.”
“Stop what?”
“Are you serious? Really?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re smacking my pen. It’s annoying, you know I find that annoying.”
“My hand must have slipped.”
“Just stop.”
“I won’t do it anymore, promise.”
“Hmm, okay,” Midoriya said, still suspicious, before turning back to his notebook, eyeing Bakugo as he put down his pen again.
True to his word, Bakugo didn’t hit the pen again. No, instead he pulled Midoriya’s notebook out from under his pen. A stripe crossed over the page and Midoriya whipped his head towards him, fuming.
“Are you a child? Give that back, you dick.”
“What? This?” Bakugo asked, holding the notebook above his head as he got out of his chair, “Why don’t you come get it.”
Midoriya was out of his chair, before Bakugo could even finish the sentence and running towards him with a battle cry. Bakugo, however, had seen it coming and was already running too.
“No fighting in the dorms,” Iida yelled after them, but was ignored by both.
Bakugo ran around the tables and couches with Midoriya on his heels. Bakugo was laughing, which was weird in itself, but Midoriya was cursing at him, which might be even weirder. Anyone who had been attempting to do their homework was now just watching intrigued as the two chased each other.
“Should we try to split them up?” Iida asked Momo, “Or get a teacher?”
“They’re not using their quirks, so I don’t think any of the teachers will have more success than us,” Momo responded.
“So you want to break them up?” he asked.
Momo looked at the two again. Midoriya was attempting to grab the notebook, while Bakugo stopped him with a hand on his forehead. She sighed: “I don’t know if we can. Maybe wait until they’ve calmed down a bit?”
Right at point Midoriya screamed: “I will lick your hand, Kacchan, don’t test me.”
It was a weird threat to make, but it seemed effective, because Bakugo’s eyes got big and he snatched his hand back as he replied: “Don’t you fucking dare, Zuku.”
Midoriya quickly grabbed his notebook back, before he said: “Of course I’m not going to do that, I’m not stupid, Kacchan. That’s poisonous.”
There was a little pause and everyone thought it was over, but then Bakugo glared: “You little shit,” and the chase was on again.
Uraraka asked: “Was it just me or did Bakugo call Midoriya Zuku?”
“He probably said Deku,” Sero replied.
“No, I heard Zuku too,” Hagakure said.
They discussed whether or not Bakugo had called Midoriya Zuku while the two ran around the room. Before anyone could ask, it was answered for them. Bakugo had managed to tackle Midoriya, but the other had twisted them around and had set in a tickle attack.
He knew all of Bakugo’s ticklish spots and he was showing no mercy. It had been sort of fun to roughhouse with Kacchan again, but he was also determined to win, so he didn’t yield when Bakugo pleaded: “Zuku, let me go. Zuku, please.”
“What? I don’t hear you, Kacchan,” Midoriya said the innocence in his voice not fitting the situation.
“Zuku, don’t- don’t do-hohoho this t- to me-he,” Bakugo managed through the giggles.
“I thought you wanted me to pay attention to you? This not attention?” Midoriya asked, pressing into Bakugo’s ribs, which he knew the other hated.
They were interrupted by Iida, who took pity on Bakugo. As a younger sibling he had been in that position many times before and he felt that as a responsible class president, he should step in. He said: “Okay, that’s enough, both of you.”
Midoriya blinked almost as if he’d forgotten other were there, before he smiled and let Bakugo go as he said: “Of course, sorry.”
Bakugo rubbed his sore ribs and groaned: “I forgot you were a little shit, Zuku.”
“According to auntie, you’re the little shit,” Midoriya countered.
“Mom didn’t know you were also responsible for the shit we did,” Bakugo huffed.
“Will you ever forgive me for the cake incident?” Midoriya asked.
“No.”
“But Kacchan,” he whined.
“No, I got grounded for that, you know how much it takes for the old hag to ground me,” Bakugo replied.
“To be fair, you didn’t disagree with it and I got a stern talking too as well,” Midoriya countered.
“Auntie couldn’t give a stern talking too if her life depended on it. It can’t have been that bad, Zuku.”
“You obviously have never had a talking to from her.”
“We both know I did, she just does the sad thing that makes you feel guilty, it’s not stern.”
“But you feel bad after!”
Bakugo thought for a second then gave in: “Yeah, okay, it does make you feel bad.”
“See, we both had consequences.”
“I’m still mad about it.”
“Okay, so I am not following any of this,” Mina interrupted, “But since when do you call Midoriya Zuku?”
“I don’t.”
“You literally just did. It’s not manly to lie, bro,” Kirishima backed Mina up.
Midoriya burst out laughing when Bakugo didn’t reply and just looked away as if not seeing them would make the question disappear. Midoriya was more than willing to throw his friend under the bus and answered for him: “Kacchan has always called my Zuku, I think he stopped in Middle School.”
“I started calling you Deku when we were eight, dumbass,” Bakugo corrected.
“Yeah, but you called me Zuku at gatherings with auntie and uncle until Middle School,” Midoriya said.
“Whatever,” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “The fact is that I stopped and don’t call him that.”
“You know that lying doesn’t work if everyone just saw you do something else, right?” Midoriya grinned.
“Shut the fuck up, they must have misheard,” Bakugo insisted.
“Why would you be embarrassed about this, kero?” Tsu asked.
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Then why are you denying it?”
“Why are you all so interested?” Bakugo countered, not answering the question.
“Come on, Bakugo,” Mina whined, “You and Midoriya hardly talked up until recently and now you have a nickname for him and you bicker like you’ve always done it. Can’t we be curious what happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Bakugo groused and everyone turned to Midoriya.
“Wha? Oh, uh, nothing happened,” he stumbled over his words to back Bakugo up, “We got over our differences. It would be weird for him to still call me Deku.”
No one reacted to that, though some shrugged in a ‘that’s fair’-manner.
When it seemed nobody was about to move, Iida clapped his hands: “That was enough excitement, we were making homework.”
People groaned, but everyone ambled back to the table, some stopping to get themselves a snack or tea or something. As everyone left, Midoriya hauled Bakugo onto his feet as he asked: “Going to annoy me again?”
“Nah, made enough of a spectacle out of myself today,” Bakugo grumbled.
“Ahw, are you embarrassed?” Midoriya teased.
“Shut up, Zuku.”
“You are!”
“I said shut up.”
“Rude, Kacchan.”
“Leave me alone.”
“So you don’t want tea? I was going to make some for myself and ask if you wanted any, but since you want me to leave you alone...”
“… Make me tea.”
Midoriya giggled, but said nothing as he went to make them both tea. They studied silently afterwards, only breaking their silence to check something with the other.
They had come full circle from friends to strangers to friends once more. The fact that they had known the other so well - it couldn’t be erased even if they tried - had been the thing that rebuild their relationship.
Kacchan and Zuku grew up together, they knew each other and that was something constant.