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There is very little that fazes Shouto except perhaps that people keep assuming he’s a vampire.
He’s not.
Yes, he’s paler than the moon, but only because he would rather whittle away the hours reading manga than playing outside. And sure, he’s insanely strong, but only because his dictator father had him training and working out since he was six-years-old. And yeah, okay, so he doesn’t like silver. Or garlic. Or crucifixes. But, come on. All that doesn’t make him a vampire.
“So, how old are you?”
Shouto blinks. Mina has been ogling him for a good ten minutes, which he normally wouldn’t mind because he’s so used to people just staring, but he would have said something if he realized she was going to ask that question.
“You’re sitting in Tokoyami’s seat,” he decides to point out instead of answering.
“Come on, dude, tell us,” Eijirou says, leaning over the back of his chair. The rest of Class 1A turns in their direction, much to Shouto’s dismay. There have been rumors spreading around the school about a vampire among the first years, which Shouto expected would happen when he entered UA. However, he didn’t quite expect his peers to (falsely) identify him so quickly.
“I’m fifteen,” Shouto answers plainly. “Just like all of you.”
“But how old are you really?” Denki asks with his arms crossed.
This is getting tiring. Shouto sighs.
“I’m 932 years old,” Shouto drawls. It’s an easy, practiced lie that the class readily believes. They gasp and quickly rush to him.
“Oh my god, does that mean you have family who are, like, thousands of years old?” Ochaco asks with wide, round eyes.
“I believe the preferred term is coven, Uraraka,” Tsuyu corrects.
“Wait, ‘Roki, wait. Are you telling me you lived through the Edo Period?” Hanta asks, getting increasingly louder and more excited. “And the Meiji Period? And the Taisho Period?”
Shouto shrinks in his chair. Great. More shit he has to make up. He wonders if he should backtrack now, before they start quizzing him on medieval Japan.
“You idiots,” a gruff voice calls from the front of the classroom. “Icyhot isn’t a vampire.”
Everyone glances at Katsuki, who’s sitting on top of his desk, looking more composed than usual. Shouto would shoot him a deadpanned remark about how “calm” was a good look for him if he didn’t secretly find Katsuki’s feral side to be a huge turn on.
“Yeah, Bakugou?” Eijirou asks, laughing. “How do you figure?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Vampires wouldn’t be so damn obvious.”
Shouto feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. Hah. It isn’t everyday that Bakugou Katsuki becomes the voice of reason, especially when it’s in someone’s defense. Since day one, they’ve regarded each other as nothing more than rivals, despite Shouto’s growing crush on him. Katsuki had a one-track mind and it was about beating him. Besting him.
Not once did Shouto think Katsuki was capable of actually caring about him.
“Bakugou’s right.” Shouto gulps. “It’s not what—”
“Oh yeah, you’ve got a thing for vampires, don’t you?” Eijirou grins at Katsuki knowingly. Katsuki grins back. “I totally forgot.”
Well, shit.
“Are you for real?” Hanta asks incredulously. “Is that the only reason you went on that date with Shinsou? Because you thought he was a vampire?”
Shit. Shit, shit.
“Just to clarify, Shinsou is not a vampire,” Eijirou announces, making eye contact with everyone in the room. “It was just his quirk that made him seem like one.”
“Big fucking disappointment,” Katsuki mumbles, sliding into his chair.
“I am a vampire!” Shouto blurts out. He pauses.
The room is silent. Everyone gawks at him.
Don’t do it, Shouto, you’re going to make things so complicated.
“That’s right,” Shouto says, going against all rationale. “Yes. It’s true. I’m a vampire. Hear me roar.”
---
The flowchart is rudimentary at best, but given he only had three hours to slap it together, it does the job in teaching his siblings the fundamentals.
Or at least what he assumes to be the fundamentals. Half the time he’s just talking out of his ass.
“Wait, so how old am I?” Fuyumi asks, scratching her head. The Todoroki siblings are sitting around the kitchen table after having been lectured by Shouto for the last 40 minutes.
“Twelve hundred years old,” Shouto replies.
“And Fuyumi turned me?” Natsuo asks, squinting at the chart. “So we aren't blood related? Or are we?”
“No, Touya turned all of us,” Shouto corrects. “He’s the leader of the coven.”
“The coven?” Fuyumi asks, tilting her head.
“It’s just a term to describe a family of vampires,” Shouto says, circling the word coven on the flowchart.
“Oh, I got a question,” Touya asks, raising his hand.
Shouto nods to him. “Yes, nii-chan?”
“What in the fuck has gotten into you?”
It’s a valid question, one that Shouto didn’t have time to explain when he dragged his siblings into the kitchen and began his presentation.
“I invited the guy I like over to dinner,” Shouto says.
“Yes, we saw your mayday in the group text,” Touya says, leaning on his elbows.
“He thinks I’m a vampire.”
His siblings gape at him in disbelief. He thinks perhaps further explanation is warranted.
“He’ll only date me if I’m a vampire,” Shouto clarifies.
Touya is the first to double over laughing. Natsuo joins in, although Shouto is pretty sure he’s also half-crying. Fuyumi resorts to rubbing her face furiously in her hands, mumbling what Shouto can only surmise is a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
“Shouto, what the actually fuck, dude?” Natsuo asks, wiping his tears away. “Why do you always have to go for the weird ones?”
“He’s not weird,” Shouto defends, his cheeks turning pink. “He just, um—”
“Wants someone to suck his big, fat—”
Fuyumi slaps Touya in the arm. “Nii-chan!”
“Blood vessel!” Touya finishes, laughing. “Fuyumi, what did you think I was going to say?”
Shouto is a deep shade of red now and he wonders briefly if he should call the whole thing off. He’s 82 percent sure that his siblings will do whatever they can to make sure he doesn’t blow it in front of Katsuki, but the remaining 18 percent depends on whether or not Touya can resist pulling on a very loose thread.
“What if this kid is, like, a vampire hunter?” Natsuo asks suddenly and Shouto desperately wishes he hadn’t. “What if this is all a ruse?”
“The irony,” Touya says.
“Shouto, did that even cross your mind?” Natsuo asks, bug-eyed. Shouto has no clue if he’s joking or being completely serious. “He could be plotting to kill us.”
No, it most certainly didn’t cross his mind. Shouto anxiously wipes his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He’s sweating cold, icy buckets, which means he’ll have to shower and change again before Katsuki—
Ding-dong.
Shit.
“Oh, god, he’s here,” Natsuo says, panicked, but not really because Shouto catches Touya grinning at him like an idiot. “We’re gonna die!”
“We can’t die,” Touya points out. “We’re undead.”
“In any case, I’m going to jump off a bridge now,” Shouto says because he’s screwed, so freaking screwed.
“Children,” Fuyumi says firmly. She stands and ties her hair in a high ponytail. “We have company now and this is obviously really important to our baby brother, so let’s just do our best, okay?”
The brothers exchange looks and in an instant the mood shifts. Shouto’s grateful that he can always rely on Fuyumi when things go to shit.
“You got it, sis,” Touya says.
“What do you need us to do?” Natsuo asks.
“Natsu, you help me finish up dinner,” Fuyumi instructs, rounding the table to peel the flowchart off the wall. She rolls it up expertly and tucks it under her arm. “Touya, let Bakugou in and try not to scare him off with your lame dad jokes?” She turns to Shouto. “Do you want to change into a new shirt?”
Shouto nods. He throws himself into Fuyumi’s arms in a somewhat awkward hug before running to his bedroom to avoid the teasing remarks from his older brothers.
Maybe this will be fine. His siblings are indulging him even though he’s acting slightly ridiculous. And Enji won’t be home until late tonight, so maybe it’ll all work out.
Yes. By the end of the night, Katsuki is going to have himself a vampire boyfriend. And Shouto will have himself a sexy, animalistic, human boyfriend.
All will be fine.
---
All is not fine.
The night is one big cringey trainwreck. Shouto has tried dropping hint after hint, but his siblings have absolutely no self-control. Natsuo continues to ask not-so-discreet questions about slaying vampires (“Stake through the heart or decapitation?”), Touya insists on inserting cheesy vampire jokes at every opportune moment (“A vampire in a mafia is called a fangster”), and Fuyumi won’t keep her thoughts to herself (“Shoot, did I put garlic in the stirfry? We die if we eat garlic, right?”).
Luckily, Katsuki doesn’t seem to mind any of it. He answers Natsuo’s questions with candor (“Chill, I ain’t a vampire hunter”), supplies a witty response to all of Touya’s jokes (“Don’t be a pain in the neck, Touya”), and treats Fuyumi with the utmost deference (“I’m okay with whatever you serve”).
On more than one occasion, Shouto catches Katsuki carefully studying him from across the room. When that happens, Katsuki immediately turns away and smiles, and it makes Shouto’s heart melt to the ground.
“Alright, dinner is ready,” Fuyumi says, poking her head out of the kitchen. “Touya, I forgot to ask, what would you like to drink?”
“What do we have?” Touya asks.
“Drink?” Katsuki questions, raising an eyebrow. “I thought vampires only drank blood.”
Fuyumi glances at Shouto with a horrified look on her face. Shouto shakes his head. “Er, she means, um, blood type.” Shouto would praise himself for the save if it didn’t sound so absurd. “What blood type would you like, nii-chan? We have types O, A, and AB.”
“Hmm,” Touya says, rubbing his chin. “Type AB is pretty rare, isn’t it? I remember it being cloyingly sweet though.” Shouto resists rolling his eyes. At least he’s trying to sell it.
“Fuck it, I’ll have that!” Touya says cheerfully. “Fang you very much.”
Fuyumi narrows her eyes at him before turning to Katsuki. “We have barley tea, if you’d like that.”
“That’s fine,” Katsuki says. “Thank you.”
They quickly follow Fuyumi to the kitchen and assemble around the dining table, which Fuyumi has filled with all of Shouto’s favorite dishes including at least five different soba dishes. Katsuki unknowingly opens up a can of worms by asking what the differences are between the soba dishes and Shouto is grateful to finally talk about something he knows inside out.
“I like the mouthfeel of cold soba noodles,” Shouto rambles on between slurping. “Feels kinda like gummy worms but with soy sauce.”
Katsuki chuckles, a sound Shouto seldom hears, but now cherishes with all his heart. Shouto finds that he loves everything about Katsuki, from the way his nose crinkles when he smiles to the way he plays with the food on his plate with his chopsticks.
“You sure know a lot about soba, Icyhot,” Katsuki says after Shouto’s monologue.
“Yep, our brother is a walking encyclopedia of buckwheat noodles,” Natsuo teases.
“I thought vampires only needed blood to sustain themselves,” Katsuki says.
Shouto almost chokes as he slurps. Well, shit. He didn’t think about that.
“Eating is more cultural than anything,” Touya replies to Shouto’s utter shock. “Sometimes I like to eat and remember what a dish used to taste like even though it’s been centuries. But, really it’s just a force of habit.”
Katsuki nods. Shouto can’t tell if he’s buying it, but at least he’s not pressing the matter further. If Shouto’s being honest with himself, he’s not sure how much longer he can stretch this lie. It’s taking everything he has just to survive one night.
He also doesn’t want to continue deceiving Katsuki. He likes Katsuki. He wants to be with him. Hell, he has half a mind to hunt down a vampire and beg them to turn him into one.
Wait. Can he do that?
Shouto is still lost in thought when he presses his glass to his lips and takes a long swig of his drink.
“Hey, Shouto.”
Katsuki’s voice snaps him back to reality. He turns his head. “Hmm?”
“Can I try?” Katsuki asks.
Shouto furrows his eyebrows, totally at a loss. “Er, try what?”
Katsuki gestures to his glass of fake blood. “That. I just want a sip.”
Shouto’s eyes widen, his mind going in all different directions. Firstly, who is this guy who wants to try blood? And why can’t Shouto decide whether that makes Katsuki crazy or so unbelievably cool? (Both? Possibly both.). Also, there’s no way, absolutely no way, Shouto can fool Katsuki if he lets him have a sip. But, denying him might also raise suspicion.
Damnit.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Shouto says slowly.
Katsuki frowns. “Why not?”
“Er, because it’s blood?” Shouto attempts exasperation but is unconvincing. “Ingesting it is dangerous for humans.”
“I just want to see what it’s like,” Katsuki says, reaching for the glass.
Shouto swats his hand away. “Bakugou, I’m serious. This blood could be infected with, like, leprosy or something.”
“Leprosy?” More than one person at the table questions.
“Or Leukemia—something!” Shouto says, trying to push Katsuki away who keeps going for the glass.
“C’mon, Icyhot, let me at least stick my tongue in it.”
“Stick your tongue somewhere else,” Shouto says, raising his glass up in the air. He has suggestions of where that ‘somewhere else’ could be, but he decides not to share them in front of family.
Katsuki huffs. “Don’t be stingy.”
“Here, Bakugou, have mine,” Touya says, extending his nearly full glass across the table.
Katsuki reaches for it before Shouto can react. “Thanks, Touya—”
“Nii-chan!” Shouto yells and lunges for the glass.
“Shouto, no—”
“Touya, stop—”
“Hey, watch it! Ugh.”
The entire dining area is suddenly painted a bright red. The remnants of their drinks are scattered across the table, some on the ceiling, and most definitely all over Katsuki.
“Oh, god, Shouto, look what you did to our guest,” Fuyumi says, rushing to Katsuki with a napkin.
Katsuki licks the back of his hand and winces. “This ain’t blood. It’s tomato juice.”
“It’s blood laced with tomato juice,” Touya exclaims, winking at Shouto and not at all trying to hide the fact that they’ve been caught red handed (almost literally).
Shouto pulls the collar of his shirt over his face. This is mortifying. So mortifying. At least it can’t get any worse than this.
“What in the world are you kids up to?”
Well, the universe sure loves to prove him wrong.
Shouto pulls his shirt down and turns toward the deep, low voice that entered the room. Enji, who takes up the majority of the doorway, stands menacingly, looking Touya dead in the eye.
Shouto finds it so funny (and convenient) that Enji’s initial reaction is to blame Touya. It’s not like he’s a mass murderer or anything.
“What did you kids do to all the mirrors in the house?” Enji demands. “And why is the thermostat set to ten degrees celsius?”
Officially busted.
“We wanted our skin to be nice and brisk!” Touya replies gleefully. Shouto groans. At least someone is having fun.
“Why, I’m afraid to ask?” Enji asks, switching over to Fuyumi, likely hoping for a sensible answer.
“Because we’re vampires?” Fuyumi replies hesitantly.
Okay, that’s it. Even Shouto can’t take that much cringe. “Sorry, I’m—” he turns to Katsuki, his voice urgent and shaky and ready to break. “Can I talk to you in private?”
“Um, yeah?” Katsuki says and immediately yelps out when Shouto snatches his wrist and hauls him out of the room. Shouto tries to ignore the searing heat behind Enji’s eyes as they follow the two out. He’s going to hate having to explain all this to his dad later. Maybe there’s still a way for Touya to take the fall.
The only place that Shouto can think of taking Katsuki is his room, so he drags Katsuki to the other side of the house, shoves him into his private domain (his private domain!!!), and closes the door. He wishes circumstances were different and that Shouto was dragging Katsuki into his room for steamier reasons, but it’s already been made known that the universe hates him.
“Bakugou, I’m sorry,” Shouto croaks, his whole body quivering with humiliation. He clenches his fists, his gaze glued to Katsuki’s feet. “You can hate me. It’s fine.”
Katsuki sighs loudly. “I don’t hate you, Half-and-Half.”
“I lied to you,” Shouto says quietly.
“What? About the tomato juice? I don’t care about that.”
Shouto looks up, his brows knitted together. “No, about—”
“—you not being a vampire?” Katsuki finishes, waving his hand dismissively. “Do I look like an idiot? I knew you weren’t a vampire from the get-go.”
What.
What????
Shouto rubs his temples. There are too many questions whirling in his brain, it practically renders him dizzy. He can’t believe it. All this time, Katsuki knew the truth.
Shouto can’t decide whether to laugh or sob uncontrollably.
“Why did you go along with it?” he asks.
Katsuki shrugs and takes a few steps forward, narrowing the gap between them. “Because I thought it was funny?”
“Funny?” Shouto repeats.
“And cute?” Katsuki scratches the back of his neck and shyly turns away. “I dunno, you went through all this fucking trouble just to try to impress me and, well. Yeah. It worked.”
Shouto blushes. Something warm and bubbly brews in his chest, sending a funny, tingling feeling all over his body. It makes him crazy brave, enough to close the gap between them and slip his hand in Katsuki’s open palm.
Katsuki’s skin is frigid.
“You’re cold,” Shouto says absently, too preoccupied with the way Katsuki is intertwining their fingers together.
“Yeah,” Katsuki whispers.
“Probably because we set the thermostat to arctic weather,” Shouto says.
“Maybe.” Katsuki places his free hand on Shouto’s neck, his fingers gently cradling the back of his head. “Or maybe because I’m the vampire.”
It's a well-timed joke that makes Shouto burst into peals of laughter.
Except he’s the only one laughing.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Art by the wonderful @BeachBeibi
