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hanta sero waltzes into the 1a dorm building with all the confidence and nonchalance (yes, somehow both at once) a boy with a secret could possibly muster. he hides this secret easily, like he’s got practice (he doesn’t). he makes it past iida without raising suspicion, gets past momo without sounding an alarm. he slips through uraraka and jirou, flashing a smile, then midoriya and todoroki, sending a wink their way.
he struggles the tiniest bit with mina and kaminari, who cling to him like koalas and demand to know where his stash of snacks are. they tease and prod and he smiles through it all, breezy and grinning the whole time. the final obstacle seems to be kirishima, but not even he has an eye for sero’s mildly nervous tiptoeing, for his eyes that dart between the floor and the elevator.
bakugo sees it, though. bakugo sees it from halfway across the room, eyes narrowed and fists slowly clenching at his sides.
something isn’t right.
sero slips up the elevator. bakugo follows shortly after, of course.
when bakugo gets off the elevator on sero’s floor, he sees the boy at his door, digging in his pocket with one hand. the other hand is dipped in his hoodie pocket.
bakugo frowns. “oi, tape face.”
he sees sero freeze for a moment before thawing, turning on his heel and giving bakugo that placating grin of his, the same one he’d used on everyone else, the one he’d used to redirect their attention to his brightness instead of the minor anxiety pulling at his edges. “what’s up, bakugo?”
“the fuck are you doing?” bakugo rolls his eyes, strolling closer still. “your goons are all downstairs.”
sero’s grin takes a feral turn. “you mean your goons.”
“you’re hiding something.” if bakugo hates anything at all, it’s small talk and wasting time.
sero finally gets his door open, scoffing lightly. the tips of his ears are pink. “what are you talking about, man?”
“i fuckin’ saw you come in with that look at your face,” bakugo huffs, watching sero push the door open with his hip. he doesn’t enter. “you look bothered—“ guilty, almost , “—as all hell. so what are you hiding?”
visibly deflating, sero’s blinding grin starts to fade. the hand in his hoodie pocket buries deeper. he says, “i can't tell you.”
bakugo stands up straighter at that, affronted. “like hell you can’t.”
sero redirects and trains his gaze on bakugo. there’s an upward tick to the corner of his mouth, a daring squint to his eyes. “so nosy,” he drawls. deflecting again. “since when did you pay attention to what i get up to?”
since always. bakugo glares right back, refusing to answer because he’s not a liar but he can’t afford to tell the truth.
sero holds out long enough for the silence to get awkward. “fine,” he sighs finally. “you wanna know? you have to promise not to tell a soul , blasty.”
bakugo’s initial thought is oh shit what have i gotten myself into. his second thought is if i don't find out in the next two seconds i’m gonna flip my shit.
instead, he grits out, “you think i can't keep a secret?”
“you have to promise ,” sero insists, ignoring him. it stings more than it ought to. “i wanna hear you say it.”
bakugo crosses his arms, fighting off the heat crawling up his cheeks and the back of his neck. he stares, indignant but wearing by the second, pinned under sero’s gaze. he rolls his eyes once more, just to be like that. “fucking fine . i promise.”
“promise what?” sero tilts his head.
“you bastard—“
“ say it .”
and that’s it. that’s all it takes.
bakugo throws his hands up in surrender. “i fucking promise i won’t tell anyone your stupid secret,” he hisses, face warm.
as a result, sero’s grin turns smug, satisfied. it makes bakugo’s heart do a funny thing. “there we go,” he says, straightening. “now, was that so hard?”
oh, now he’s just being an ass.
“spit it out already!”
sero glances down at his hand on the doorknob, down the empty hall. then, without warning, he snatches bakugo’s forearm, ignoring his snappy retort and his flustered complaints, ignoring the way bakugo doesnt yank his arm out of his grip. he all but shoves bakugo into his dorm room before firmly shutting the door, leaning against it like he’s trying to keep something from shoving it back open.
“what—“ bakugo starts, wheeling around toward sero with his palms snapping.
then, irritatingly slow, sero pulls his hand out of his hoodie pocket. in that hand, that lovely, callused hand, is a fucking kitten.
“—the fuck. ”
sero doesn’t say anything, instead pulling the tiny thing closer to his chest. it’s solid black, so small bakugo isn’t even sure how it’s still… well, alive. that cat should be thankful for sero, bakugo supposes. he doesn’t say that out loud. fuck no.
intelligently, he scrambles for a proper response. “where the—how did you—“
“cat got your tongue?” sero asks, sparing a sneaky glance at bakugo, the corner of his mouth upturned again in that teasing way of his. it makes bakugo wanna blast it or kiss it right off his stupid face. he still hasn’t decided which one he’d prefer.
he snaps at him instead. “shut the fuck up.”
and then sero has the audacity to cover the kittens ears . “language, blasty,” he tuts, like a doting grandmother. “not in front of the children.”
“answer my question, asshole ,” bakugo seethes, taking a deep breath. is it warm in here? “and don’t tell me what to fucking do.”
sero clicks his tongue, shrugging. “i found it on the way back from picking up snacks.”
that’s… it? that’s really it?
bakugo narrows his eyes. “you found it.”
“in the bushes right outside the grounds,” sero begins, lowering his voice as he brings the furball closer to his face. “it just kinda… stumbled out of the bushes and i didn’t see any other babies or the momma around.” he dips his nose into the fur on top of the kitten’s head. even quieter, he adds, “i even, uh—waited around to see if she would show up.”
momma. bakugo purses his lips. stupid, endearing sero.
he doesn’t wait for bakugo to retort. “that’s why it took me forever to come back. well, that, and—“ sero pulls out a baggy from his pocket, half way full of a strange white, powdery substance. there might also be a… syringe? but there doesn’t seem to be an actual needle , but bakugo can hardly tell from this distance.
it looks suspicious as fuck. sero can tell he’s wary.
“kitten formula.”
bakugo blinks. of fucking course. “where the hell did you get that ?”
“ah, a magician never reveals his secrets,” sero looks up from the kitten toward the simmering blonde. “happy now?”
then bakugo crosses his arms. again. “no.”
“no?” sero’s tilts his head. again . that makes bakugo’s heart do a funny thing, too.
a muscle jumps in his jaw, his mind already made up before he’s allowed a chance to second guess his decision. “you’ll get caught if you do this shit on your own,” he says, like it’s obvious. “i’m gonna help.”
“you’re gonna—“ sero’s eyes go comically wide. “you’re gonna what? what was that? did you say… help ? did the great king explosion murder—“
“oh, fuck off!” bakugo’s palms pop with yet another warning. it startles the kitten more than sero, someone who’s used to bakugo’s empty threats. “see if i ever offer to help you again, tape face. you can do it all on your own!”
sero allows himself a few moments of mocking laughter before he sobers up a bit, stands up straight. he meets bakugo’s eye and, as usual, doesn't back down when those crimson eyes narrow at him. it’s one of the best things about him, bakugo thinks. then he crushes the thought.
the kitten squeaks quietly. with that crooked grin of his, sero says, “i never said i didn't want your help, blasty.”
well, shit. bakugo feels the blood rush to his cheeks and ears before he can do much to prevent it. when sero doesn’t say anything else, he sighs, heavy and irritated, before stomping across the room to snatch up the suspicious ass bag of kitten formula. “give me that, you bastard.”
inside the bag is a small syringe type thing, and a—scoop? bakugo wants to laugh, really, but he doesn’t allow himself to. “tell me where you got this.”
sero has his nose in the kitten's fur again. it probably needs a damn bath and here sero was, burying his face in its possibly nasty, flea-ridden fur. it mews and squeaks and wiggles like a furry worm. bakugo watches out of the corner of his eye, but not longer than half a second.
sero answers, “went knocking on doors and asking for kitten formula. some sweet old lady gave it to me.”
bakugo’s brows pinch. he looks up from the weird bag. sero is unperturbed. of course he went door to door asking for stupid kitten formula. of course he did. stupid sero.
then bakugo remembers why sero left in the first place. “did you even get the damn snacks you went out to buy?”
sero hums softly, petting the kitten ever so delicately. he doesn’t answer.
“i’ll take that as a no… ” bakugo mutters, his voice gruff, already pulling out his phone to look up how the hell you're supposed to take care of a kitten this young and this small.
stupid sero. stupid cat. stupid feelings.
—
“makes me hungry.”
bakugo stirs. he’s sat on the floor near sero with his legs criss-crossed. his phone and google searching had been abandoned about ten minutes ago to supervise the kitten’s first feeding. the kitten who needs to eat every two goddamn hours.
sero holds the kitten close to his chest as he tries to share his warmth. with the knuckle of his pointer finger tucked under the kitten’s chin, he feeds it the formula slowly, with more care than bakugo’s ever seen, which is really saying something because bakugo knows sero is always careful. not like bakugo is paying closer attention to sero than usual, than the average person or—or whatever.
wait.
“the fuck did you just say?”
sero looks up at him. his lip quirks like he’s caught bakugo doing something he shouldn’t be. in truth, bakugo had been staring at sero’s hands but like hell he’d ever admit to it.
“i said it makes me hungry,” sero repeats, like that’s not one of the most absurd things he’s ever said, considering he’s currently feeding this tiny ass, random ass kitten formula out of the smallest damn syringe bakugo has ever seen. he coos at the thing, small, nearly incoherent words of encouragement as it eats like it hasn’t eaten in days.
bakugo swears his mind has gone muddy from sitting well over an hour—too long—in the quiet comfort of sero’s dorm. the sun is setting and his room is flooding in red, oranges, pinks. it highlights sero’s face in a way that makes him look so— lovely, holy —bakugo shakes his head.
“yeah, well,” he snorts instead, looking away from sero and his stupid hands. “it’s fuckin’ dinner time, that’s why.”
the kitten mews, a wet, high pitched sound. sero clicks his tongue at it, smiling softly as it finally finishes eating. bakugo looks on, pining and yearning and lamenting all at the same time.
—
several hours later finds bakugo showered and in pajamas, grumbling outside of sero’s dorm room, debating whether he should go through with his promise and just fucking knock , or if he should just choke on the lump in his throat, turn around and pretend he hadn’t even made such an attempt.
but that’d be bitching out.
and bakugo’s not a fucking bitch.
inside, sero busies himself with another tiny bottle to feed his tiny stray. he hums to himself, though no one can hear him, and jumps nearly sky high at the sound of a knock on his door, repetitive and abrasive.
he very nearly calls out its open, catching himself at the last second. gently, sero departs from his tiny stray, crossing to his door and pulling it open just a little. just enough to seem as not suspicious as possible.
“hey—“ sero starts, coming face to face—okay, not face to face; bakugo’s short whether he wants to admit it or not—with the explosive blonde himself. “oh, bakugo. what’s up, man?”
he’s not entirely sure, but it’s gotta be close to eleven o’clock. and yet the king of sleeping early and getting a full night's rest like he’s some kind of old man is here , outside sero’s dorm room with damp blonde hair, drying in spikes with a few tufts sticking to his forehead, in his comfiest pajamas with his hands shoved into his pockets. and, is that—sero narrows his eyes, just barely.
the tips of bakugo’s ears are pink. sero tells himself it’s leftover heat from his shower. probably. definitely.
“it’s time to—“ bakugo inhales sharply, his shoulders tending. frustration pulls at the edges of his all too clear skin. “every two hours, remember?” he huffs. “time to feed the damn cat again.”
sero’s face dissolves into a gentle smile. “i know. i was just getting ready to do that actually,” he says quietly, tipping his chin over his shoulder. somewhere within the room, bakugo hears that damn kitten meowing.
“well,” bakugo scuffs the floor with his heel as heat spreads across his chest, suddenly feeling both really fucking stupid and really fucking out of place. “don’t fuckin’ forget, dumbass.” he stiffens like he might be getting ready to leave.
“i won't,” sero replies quickly. ruby eyes widen just a fraction at the latter boy’s rushed earnesty. then, sero adds quietly, like it’s only for his ears, “all night long…”
bakugo’s resolve hardens right then. “you gonna let me in or what?” he asks now, tone grated and laced with false confidence, like he hadn’t been ready to turn tail and leave just two seconds ago. the edge of his voice, sero has learned, is a tell-tale sign that the every so stoic and bold katsuki bakugo feels just a tiny bit awkward.
“you—“ sero blinks. computing. “wha?”
“i said i was gonna help, didn't i?”
the boy continues to stare for a moment, lost in disbelief. bakugo feels those dark eyes dart over every piece of his face, as sero searches for answers or an explanation or a crack in this illusion his exhausted brain has conjured up to play tricks on his weak little heart.
katsuki bakugo… in his room? past his bedtime, no less. sero almost wants to tease him just for that but he really, really doesn’t want to risk running the pretty blonde off.
and he really, really wouldn’t mind the company.
sero pinches his thigh. not a dream.
bakugo doesn't budge. wears the truth on his sleeve.
“come on in.” sero swings his door wide open.
bakugo follows, his steps light. not that hed ever admit it out loud, but he’s trying his best not to disturb the kitten in case it might be sleeping. that damn cat. he wonders if tape face has a name for it yet, or a plan for when classes start back up on monday when the needy thing still has to eat every two hours.
already, without intending to, bakugo’s brain rifles theough potential plans of action when sero plops down in the same place he'd been sitting earlier in the day, legs crossing, shirt resting just so, a strand of dark hair coming out of its tuck from behind his ear.
he gets back to where bakugo assumes he left off.
bakugo allows himself half a second to watch as sero gets settled, soaking up the unfiltered gentleness, the unadulterated softness resonating from the boy on the floor.
sero’s lips rise into the kindest smile as he dips his hand into his homemade nest, pulling out the stray and huddling it close to his chest.
what the fuck.
“sorry about the wait,” he whispers, like bakugo isn't present. like he’s genuinely sorry for making the tiny thing wait. the whole thing, from his voice to the careful way he holds the kitten, all the way down to fucking lighting in the room, is completely soft. innocent. tender.
bakugo’s gonna go fucking insane. in the best way.
maybe.
he sits next to sero. snatches the syringe from his hand. when he opens his mouth to question him, to protest, bakugo just holds it between his heating palms. slowly, he drags his eyes up to meet sero’s. holds the contact. relishes in the way the apples of sero’s pretty cheeks turn an even prettier shade of pink.
“warming it up, idiot,” bakugo mumbles. “relax.”
“oh,” sero replies less than smoothly. “thanks.”
the feeding process is surprisingly slow considering the kitten was close to starving when sero had found it. bakugo never imagined starved kittens could be such slow eaters, but whatever. he finds, after a bit, he doesn’t mind it. sero’s room is quiet, lulling. he absolutely could go to sleep right here, criss-crossed on the floor.
the pair sit with their backs to the bed, sero’s blankets haphazardly thrown across the mattress and brushing the floor, beneath bakugo’s shoulder blades and under his palms. there’s this, and then there’s the lighting. colored string lights line the ceiling, washing the room in a lovely purple hue that somehow isn't too dark that they can’t see. bakugo ever could’ve guessed sero would be the type to have purple lights in his room, but whatever. the more you know.
sero’s undying curiosity breaks the silence. “what made you wanna help me?”
after coming back to his senses, bakugo finds himself mildly offended by this question. “i already told you,” he scoffs. “you’d get caught without me. when you snuck up right after dinner i made sure all those damn extras didn’t think you were puking your guts out or dying or something .”
he doesn’t add that he really just wanted an excuse to be around sero.
sero makes a noise of acknowledgement, his hair tossed to the side and out of the way as he leans forward to examine the fuzzy thing in his hand. bakugo watches closely, very nearly leaning forward, completely enamored because everything about hanta sero is enamoring even if bakugo doesn’t understand why.
“thought we could—“ he starts before he can think better of it. “fuckin’ take turns or whatever.”
bakugo is watching sero’s hands. then sero stills, and he looks away as fast as he can, before the other boy can catch him in the act. even while looking away, bakugo feels the burn of sero’s gaze boring into the side of his head. searching. curious. he can bet the bastard is smiling that sickly sweet, horribly tender smile of his.
sero’s fucking infectious.
“are you sure?” he asks, and bakugo is once again taken aback by the sheer softness of the way he talks, not like he’s walking on eggshells, but like he’s— just —
bakugo blinks and that smile is gone, replaced by a sly smirk.
“you sure you’re up for this, blasty?” sero prods, a dark brow raised and sending all the blood rushing to bakugo’s neck and ears. “last time i checked your bedtime was nine o’clock,” he adds, checking an invisible watch on his wrist. the kitten squeaks as it’s placed back in the box, the syringe now empty.
a challenge is written clearly on sero’s face.
bakugo’s never been one to back down from a challenge.
“you bet your sweet ass i can do it.” bakugo smirks right back, pointed and evil and knowing. two can play at this game, and he’ll be damned if he backs out now. he’s not a bitch . bakugo doesn’t even bother biting back at the bedtime comment; he’s gotten better , okay? it’s not like this is his first time staying up late or getting inconsistent sleep. he’ll be fucking fine.
sero’s smirk is a knife’s edge. bakugo’s heart picks up the pace, just a little bit.
—
the next two hours are spent in the same spot, the air full of quieting voices discussing training, their friends ( goons ), and potential names for the kitten sleeping in a box next to sero’s legs.
“call it murder god.”
“no.”
“king explosion.”
“ no. ”
“lord murder, then.”
“bakugo, no. ”
“fuckin’ fine! what have you got, then?”
“i don't know , just—“
“—“fuckin cellophane. ”
“oh, so you’re coming for my hero name now, i see.”
“ you came for mine !”
“did not.”
“you did. ”
“i just don’t want my cat to be named king explosion murder god , dummy.”
“don’t call me dummy!” bakugo snaps. “wait, you’re keeping it?
sero turns to give him an incredulous look. “of course i’m keeping it!” he snaps back, the ending fading into light laughter. “why else would i be waking up every two hours to feed it?”
bakugo gapes at him for a moment. sero marvels at it; it’s not often one is able to catch katsuki bakugo off guard. “i—god. god , tape face.”
“what?”
“nothing.”
“ what ?
“nothing!”
after a long while, sero pulls out his nintendo switch. he shows bakugo his animal crossing island, talking quietly with fingers dancing over buttons and thumb sticks. next to him, bakugo sits with his legs crossed underneath him, leaning just a little into sero’s arm. bakugo lets himself lean, lets their arms brush and lets sero’s honey smooth voice fill his head.
he’s not tired, he swears, but bakugo is very nearly asleep when the next two hour alarm goes off. the sound startles them both, enough to make sero curse jump and bakugo curse under his breath.
well, not under his breath. his curses are always loud.
“scare you?” sero side eyes bakugo, his switch turned off. he gathers his limbs, starts to get up.
“shut up and sit down,” bakugo bites, thrusting a hand out to grab sero by his forearm, pull him back down to the floor.
“wait—“
“i’ve got it.” he does.
sero’s eyes widen. bakugo ignores it.
he feeds the kitten without a word. feels sero’s eyes on him every now and then, burning into the back of his neck. it has soft fur , he thinks to himself. it squeaks and his heart does a funny thing.
after the feeding, bakugo shuffles right back to sero’s side, all casual. sero lets him scoot closer, all casual, still playing his switch with his face washed in pale colored light. the room is quiet save for game sounds and sero’s humming, the tapping of his feet. the sun has long since set.
it doesn’t take long for bakugo’s eyes to get blurry, for his mind to get hazy. sero doesn’t say a word when bakugo’s head tips onto his shoulder, doesn’t move, nor does he ask the boy to move.
at the next two hour mark, sero is seriously struggling to keep his eyes open. the violent sound of his phone alarm is enough to wake him all the way back up, and to startle bakugo out of his slumber. his blond head pops up quickly, eyes searching frantically for the source of sound.
sero stands and bakugo can already feel the boy’s warmth leaving with him.
“hey,” the brunette says softly, already crouched next to the box where his kitten lay, squirming and squeaking for food. bakugo isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or that damn cat. god, what time is it?
then, sero murmurs, “you can rest on my bed if you want.” his voice has gone all raspy. he spares a glance over his shoulder, and bakugo’s sleep-addled mind can hardly stand the tender look on sero’s face. he can’t help it when his cheeks heat up. “or in the hammock. your neck’ll hurt if you stay on the floor.” then he turns back to his treasure.
the bed. the hammock. right.
right .
“yeah, yeah, i hear you,” bakugo grumbles in reply. as sero preps the formula once again, he sneaks yet another look at bakugo, unable to help himself. he’s rubbing the heels of his explosive palms into his eyes, the hair on the right side of his face where he’d had his head pressed to sero’s shoulder flattened a bit. his shirt hangs when he leans up, collarbones on display, washed in sero’s purple bedroom light. sero’s never seen him this… worn down before. tired, yes, but never so vulnerable.
sero thinks bakugo looks sweet. less prickly and more touchable. human.
he pretends not to watch when bakugo climbs into his bed, his movements sluggish and a bit hesitant. he ignores the hammering of his heartbeat when bakugo takes his pillow and rearranges it, tucking his arm under it as his hair splays across it. sero swallows his heart as it tries crawling right out of his throat, giving at least a third of his remaining attention to the kitten in his hand.
the pair are very good at convincing themselves they’re not absolutely obsessed with each other while simultaneously being so obsessed with one another than they can hardly stand it.
that said, bakugo watches him feed the kitten the entire time, eyelids, limbs, and heart weighing heavy.
when sero finishes, bakugo’s eyes follow as he goes back to the same place on the floor they’d been sitting just minutes before.
on the floor.
in his own room.
while bakugo rests.
on sero’s bed.
absolutely unacceptable.
after a moment of internal arguing, bakugo finally moves. shifting until his head hangs over the side of the bed, bakugo pokes the crown of sero’s head with his pointer finger.
“what the hell are you doing?”
when sero turns, he finds blond hair hanging down in front of him, finds the boy of which the hair belongs to which his cheek squished to the mattress, crimson eyes narrowed. “what do you mean?” sero replies in a whisper.
bakugo’s voice is a little slurred from his lips being a little bit smushed. he’s never looked so kissable in all the time sero’s known him. “get your ass up here,” he says right back. “it’s your bed.”
oh.
“ oh .” sero’s eyes widen just a bit. “i just—uh, i didnt wanna make you uncomfortable or someth—“
bakugo’s eyes narrow even further, his finger poking sero’s head again. “get up here,” he interrupts, voice laced with finality. sero can’t argue, can’t oppose him.
as if he’d say no.
sero gets up there.
at first, he’s sitting with his back to the headboard, rigged with a leg tucked up underneath him. bakugo had scooted backward to make room for him, resting on his side to face sero. they’d both be lying if they tried saying it wasn’t a little bit awkward.
bakugo knows he could slice the tension in sero’s shoulders with a goddamn knife. steeling himself, he asks, “this alright, tape face?” punctuated with yet another uncharacteristic poke to sero’s person, to his ankle this time.
not that sero minds.
“it’s alright,” he answers.
and it’s not convincing.
bakugo doesn’t give up. “i cant get in the hammock in you want,” he says, his voice slurred a bit with sleep.
“you might not wake up at the next alarm if you sleep there,” sero teases, his laughter airy and quiet. he’s got his switch back in his hands, staring blankly at the dark screen, even if he’s only got it to have a place to put his hands. “it’s pretty comfortable.”
“if you say so,” bakugo mumbles, his voice fading out, getting softer. his cheek must be squished again.
sero’s eyes travel over to him, on his stomach with all his limbs tucked in tight like he’s afraid if he stretches out he might stretch too far, take up more space than he’s been permitted, which is endearing, because bakugo has never been one to be conscious of how much space he’s taking up, let alone to care if he’s taking more than he’s been granted.
but it could also be because he’s afraid to touch sero my accident.
he’s tucked in neat, save for his hand. it rests between them, so obviously spaced apart sero has no choice but to acknowledge it. it really rests, relaxed fingers and all.
sero resigns himself to bakugo just… sleeping. in his bed. right beside him. all night long. he heaves a heavy sigh, and bakugo probably doesn’t even hear it. wrenching his eyes from the blond, sero peeks over the edge of his bed into the box housing his little ball of fur.
the kitten is sound asleep, too.
i can't believe i just unintentionally became a parent.
actually—no, he can certainly believe it. he can’t even be mad about it, because the damn thing is so cute and tiny. he’d feel worse if he hadn’t picked it up, knowing it’d have been left out there all alone to fend for itself.
he could potentially get in a lot of trouble for this, but—sero’s eyes find bakugo again. of course they do. bakugo’s got his own gravitational force, his own orbit. sero couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to.
he won’t get in trouble, because he’s got bakugo.
that what he tells himself anyway. he flips his switch on, the light nearly blinding him, to distract himself from whatever cheesy poetic nonsense is beginning to—no, has been swirling around in his brain.
beside him, blond brows cinch together. “rest,” bakugo insists.
his voice started sero a little. “i’m fine,” he answers softly. too softly, but it’s too quiet to clear his throat and—
a calloused hand wraps around his forearm for a brief, electrifying moment. the hand climbs further until it finds its target, and then bakugo’s lovely hand is smacking the screen of sero’s switch. “‘s late,” he grouses. “you need to rest.”
“bakugo—“
and then bakugo peels the switch from sero and hides it behind his back. like a child.
sero’s hands have nowhere to go.
“two more hours is my turn,” the blond continues. “rest for now. til your next…”
his voice fades again, tapering off into an unfinished sentence, but sero can’t even focus on that completely because that hand has come to rest next to sero’s leg, closer now than it had been before.
fuck.
sero tries to takes a deep breath, but that quickly turns into a yawn. fuck. bakugo. in his room. asleep. helping him. beside him. touching him. bakugo.
katsuki.
fucking katsuki bakugo. stupid katsuki motherfucking bakugo.
there’s nothing he can do but get comfortable, so he shuffles down until he’s flat on his back, crossing his ankles and keeping his arms completely still, flat and awkward, at his sides. bakugo makes a noise—a noise of acknowledgement, a sleep noise, sero doesn’t know. he’s tired, of course, but he’s wired up. bakugo is right there. how can he sleep with a boy like him right next to him, resting? looking gentle and sweeter than ever? all his hard edges softened and the angry pinch of his brows smoothed flat?
curious sero steals yet another glance at him. it’s like he’s looking at bakugo in high definition, because he can see a tiny scar on his cheekbone, a freckle beside his nose. he can see a split in his lip. even his hair, naturally chaotic and spiky—sero can see that it looks soft. so soft his sleepy brain nearly convinces him to dip his fingers right into it, just to feel it—but he doesn’t.
sero shakes his head. i’m going insane.
he leans up and over to check on the kitten again, just to have something to do that isn’t fucking staring at katsuki bakugo —and a warm palm finds the center of his chest.
presses down.
“sero.” bakugo’s rock salt voice. “cat’s fine. sleep.”
he keeps pressing until sero is back flat against the bed. and then his hand doesn’t move.
of course it doesn’t.
and of course sero can’t keep his eyes away.
like everything else about him, bakugo’s hands are lovely. up close, sero can see calluses and scars and small nicks from kitchen knives and paper cuts. it didn’t matter than these hands were capable of mass destruction, creating violent explosions of every degree, because in sero’s mind, they were just so damn lovely. even bakugo’s nails are well taken care of. his palm is warm as it lay across sero’s chest.
slowly, carefully, sero lifts his own hand. he touches bakugo’s pointer finger, which seems to alert the blond. he starts to snatch his hand back.
bakugo mutters, “sorry.”
“oh, uh, no—it’s okay,” sero stumbles, nearly choking on his words. “i was just, uh—“
one searing red eye peeks open. bakugo’s hand freezes.
an invitation.
who would sero be to deny it?
sero grabs it, thumb on bakugo’s knuckles, gentle as he would be with a newborn kitten. he leads it back to his chest, sets it down. he doesn’t realize bakugo can hardly breathe, can hardly see straight, as he allows his hand to be taken, led, placed back onto sero’s lovely, broad chest. he closes his eyes, because maybe, just maybe, he’s a little bit afraid.
nervous.
“this alright?” sero’s voice echoes in his head.
like he needs to ask.
in lieu of answering, bakugo flips his hand over, revealing his open palm.
another invitation.
sero gladly takes bakugo’s hand with both of his own. he takes his hand, his fingers, his palm, even his wrist. sero runs his thumbs over the roughness on his palm, drags his pointer over every one of bakugo’s fingers from the base to the end, over all his knuckles.
it’s intimacy like bakugo’s never experienced before.
like neither of them have experienced before.
it makes sero feel dizzy. when his eyelids start to droop, the anxiety melts out of him. the nerves. he places his palm on top of bakugo’s, fingers dancing over his wrist. he taps the boy’s pulse with his middle finger, and then bakugo’s hand wraps around his own.
without another word, they sleep.
—
the next alarm, bakugo is not ready for, but he bolts awake anyway and shuts it off as fast as he can without sero stirring.
sero, on his back. sero, with his lips parted. sero, who held his hand. more or less.
bakugo feeds the cat with minimum complications. sero doesn’t stir at all. he’s glad for that. makes getting back in bed and—maybe, just maybe—shifting closer just a little bit easier.
sero makes everything easy, simple.
bakugo likes him so goddamn much.
it was so goddamn late. all the mushy gushy nonsense bakugo is so expertly talented at ignoring comes flying to the forefront of his mind. feeling these feelings came terrifyingly easy when there was no one around to witness hin crumble and fall like this.
bakugo finds himself staring at sero’s sleeping face just a little bit longer than necessary. there’s a piece out of place, and he—he certainly hesitates, but bakugo swipes a stray piece of hair away from sero’s closed eye. his hair is so soft, strewn across the pillow, wavy and—
“baku-go…?” sero mumbles, his face scrunching together.
bakugo freezes. he doesn’t move a single muscle. “go back to sleep,” he says, quieter than ever. god, his fucking brain has turned to mush.
sero grumbles some more, shifts around a bit. after a moment, bakugo realizes that he’s tapping his hand, like he’s looking for something.
and then he finds his target.
“gimme.” he’s got bakugo’s forearm in hand and it takes every ounce of bakugo’s willpower not to squeak as sero actively pulls him down, so they’re right next to one another. sharing the same pillow.
oh, fuck.
sero pulls his arm closer, hugging it to his chest. his stupid, lovely chest. “warm.”
oh, fuck.
bakugo doesn’t even dare to breathe until sero goes still again. then, and only then, does he allow himself a moment to catch his breath. sero’s got his arm hugged so tightly that bakugo can feel his steady heartbeat, holding him like a precious treasure, like a hard won prize.
bakugo is hopeless in the same way sero is, and this closeness does not help his case. he’s close enough for sero’s breath to hit his neck, to be able to see the way his lashes fan over his cheeks. he can see his summer freckles, dashed over the bridge of his nose, beginning to fade, a pale scar on his forehead. dark hair falls and frames his face like it’s just begging to be touched, asking for bakugo to bury his hands there.
he wants to. so badly.
he stares until his eyes burn, until his eyes simply cannot stay open any longer.
when sero’s slender fingers ghost down bakugo’s forearm, he’s a goner. he touches him with just the pads of his fingertips, so slowly and lightly that it tickles at first. it’s the rhythm that pulls bakugo under and into dreamland completely.
there are no secrets to be had in this envelope of warmth they’ve created together. the moon lays their hearts bare, even with their eyes closed. in the morning, when the sun kissed them awake, the truth would be out there in the open, undeniable and wholly accepted.
all because of an accidental kitten acquisition.