Work Text:
Give me all your love now
‘Cause for all we know
We might be dead by tomorrow
Iida is the first to leave, not before he frantically lets Shouto know he can message him anytime and he’ll come rushing. Shouto appreciates it, deeply and truthfully. It makes him feel all warm inside despite the insistent ache that has settled in his heart whenever he so much as thinks about his brother’s name.
Kirishima still stays for a while longer, but soon he’s excusing himself and Shouto watches as Bakugou is about to follow him. He doesn’t know what possesses him as he catches Bakugou’s wrist just as he’s at the door. Shouto’s mind stalls and reboots in those agonizing seconds where a set of vermilion eyes burn brightly and fiercely into his own. Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but he’s always so expressive, even through his silence.
Shouto gathers his bearings, what else does he have to lose, really? He still soldiers on even as his voice sounds strained and almost too small as he asks if Bakugou can stay a bit more because there’s something he would like to discuss with him.
Kirishima looks over his shoulder with a concerned expression, and Shouto appreciates him as dearly as he has appreciated Iida for caring so much about him. Kirishima asks if he should also stay, and Shouto can tell it comes from the unparalleled kindness of his heart. Shouto smiles, a tiny pull at the corners of his lips that might not be the most genuine, but he doesn’t want to worry him, or anyone, any further. They’ve done more than enough already. Shouto shakes his head and thanks Kirishima for coming to see him, offering a curt, polite bow as ways of apology as he tells him that it’s best that he and Bakugou have this talk in private.
Kirishima nods his agreement as something like understanding flashes in his eyes. Shouto is glad he caught on quickly. Kirishima isn’t dumb, he’s been there, after all, for the rescue — Bakugou’s rescue.
He wasn’t there when it happened, though.
He wasn’t there when that villain trapped him inside a marble. He wasn’t there when his brother grabbed Bakugou by the back of his neck and took him away.
Shouto knows Kirishima felt it deep in his bones when Bakugou was taken away, but the anguish and powerlessness Shouto had experienced that day was his own. Perhaps Midoriya could relate, but he doubts it.
The moment Dabi had blurted out “ Touya” back on the battlefield, it changed everything.
This new truth created a sickly bond between the three of them. Bakugou had unknowingly become woven into his family affairs.
That day has always been haunting him at night, the copious nightmares never stopped. It’s almost always the same, the purple mist and the charred, bony fingers curling around Bakugou’s throat like a vise, squeezing, squeezing, and squeezing until—
The guilt of it all will probably torment Shouto forever. Though it’s worse than before now. Before, his failure to save Bakugou was all that it was. Dabi was just another villain, the kidnapping was just another incident as many of those he and his classmates faced throughout the year.
(It comes with the job, his father would say. As the complete hypocrite he is because Shouto knows Endeavor has lost his shit multiple times whenever he was in danger, even though this is the life he has bred him to pursue.)
It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they got to Bakugou in time, and he was brought back, and he’s safe. At least for now, they don’t know what’s awaiting them outside these walls in the next few days. A war, that’s for sure. That’s just about all they know. It’s such a vague notion. Everything might end, suddenly. Their lives, all that they’ve built.
Even this tentative friendship he’s forged with the blond might be turned into ashes soon.
Shouto has the silly urge to apologize to him before it’s too late, even though he knows how futile it is at this point. Bakugou is here, after all. Safe. Full of light, shining as brightly as his majestic explosions that sparkle up like fireworks. So full of life.
Bakugou is here. He came to his room of his own free will to check on Shouto. In the same vein of concern as Kirishima and Iida came. Bakugou cracked a silly joke that only made sense to the two of them.
They’ve been growing closer and closer ever since Midoriya left. He thought things would go back to normal once Midoriya got back, but they didn’t.
Bakugou came to his room. To comfort him.
Shouto knows there isn’t any bad blood between them, that he doesn’t need to apologize for anything. Bakugou might even find it offensive, take it as a personal attack to his pride.
However, the guilt is like poison spreading through his veins.
So he did something about it. Grabbed Bakugou’s wrist, and told him they needed to talk alone.
Kirishima closes the door behind him as he leaves, and Shouto realizes he’s still clutching to Bakugou’s wrist even as Kirishima’s out. Bakugou’s warm, Shouto can feel it seeping through the thick layer of his winter costume. He lets go, too quickly.
Bakugou has stayed.
All because Shouto had asked him to.
Shouto’s mind reels. It’s now or never, he thinks.
His mouth is incredibly dry. Shouto feels like he’s about to die a premature death before he gets to fight any real battle. Surely, definitely will, if he doesn’t say or do something—anything.
For fuck’s sake, they might be dead by tomorrow. Now is not the time to be wallowing in doubt and hesitating. There are stupid little words he wishes to say and perhaps only one last chance to get them out.
There is no time to ponder over anything anymore, to consider if it’s right or wrong because he has a better grasp of his feelings by now, he knows what’s there, deep inside his heart.
It’s been going on for a while now anyway. Since their remedial classes together. Feelings. All tangled up inside his chest. Overwhelming and confusing. A fuckload of them, as Bakugou would say.
It doesn’t matter. There is no time to contemplate further. All they’ve got now are those precious seconds that keep ticking by. He doesn’t know how much they’ve got left, and he’s tired of regretting things in his life for being too afraid to open his mouth.
When Bakugou levels Shouto with a questioning glare, it’s surprising that he doesn’t bark at him the way he usually would. There’s a slight crease between his brows, but even that is subdued. Shouto can see he’s tired, saving up whatever energy he can store for the battle. Bakugou’s been a lot different lately, he has matured some. Maybe a lot, even.
They all have. They’ve been forced to.
And Shouto feels like it’s probably tougher on the lot of them, worse than it is for him. He’s been trained to be a soldier from the cradle, after all. Molded to be here and play a part in all of this.
Shouto suddenly feels a thousand years older. There’s so much weight and sorrow hanging over their shoulders, and it’s all so tiring. He doesn’t have to wonder if Bakugou feels it too, it’s obvious in the tiniest details he can catch—the hard set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, his stiff posture.
Here, inside this room, surrounded by those walls, they’re safe. Shouto wishes he could freeze this moment and just stay here. He wishes he could snatch Bakugou’s hand and run, far, far away from all of this.
But they have duties. Shouto has a brother to stop and a broken family to mend. Bakugou has a friend to protect.
Friend.
He wonders if that’s what they are now. If Bakugou’s ready to admit it. Shouto might ask him after he says the other important thing he needs to tell him.
“Sorry,” mutters Shouto, tentatively and apologetically. “I—uhm. I wanted to—Bakugou, I wanted to tell you—t-that. I wanted to say—shit. Sorry.”
Suddenly, facing him becomes too hard of a task. Shouto feels cornered and hushed, trapped by his own ineptitude to voice his feelings, let them pour out.
“Jesus fuck, what’s gotten into you? You’re acting worse than Deku, Icyhot!”
Bakugou steps forward and places a firm hand on his shoulder. It’s grounding.
This isn’t the first time he’s done that. The first time was when he stepped in and confronted his father. Not a lot of people have the gall to talk to Endeavor that way. But this is Bakugou Katsuki, he’s just built differently.
“Whatever it is, just fucking out with it, dumbass.”
Shouto lifts his head and is caught by surprise by how close they are now. Bakugou has his brows pinched and a downward turn on his lips, but he doesn’t look angry. He looks eager as if he genuinely wants to hear what Shouto has to say.
It does the trick. Shouto feels the tiniest bit braver.
“I wanted to apologize.”
Bakugou peels his hand from Shouto’s shoulder far too quickly. He misses his touch immediately. Wonders if he’s said something wrong.
“The fuck?” Bakugou blinks, flabbergasted. “Have you managed to fry the last of your damned brain cells, Icyhot?”
“No, it’s not that.” Shouto shakes his head, clenching his fists. “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while. My… my brother. Dabi, no, Touya, he—he kidnapped you, Bakugou. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Why this all of a sudden?”
“I just figured we might not get another chance. Tomorrow, or the day after, we might be—we might—yeah. So I wanted to tell you that. I’m really sorry, Bakugou. On my brother’s behalf, too. I’ll take the blame. I wish I could’ve done something that day, but I was too slow and he ended up taking you.”
Bakugou’s quiet for a while, scrutinizing him. The silence is too damn loud.
Then, suddenly, he blurts out, “Do you think I ever blamed you for that shit your fucking brother pulled?” And he does sound angry now.
“It would be justified if you did. I would—”
“Shut the fuck up, Icyhot,” he cuts him off. “I don’t fucking blame you. This shit is stupid and fucking pointless.”
Bakugou huffs, annoyed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and takes a step forward, ready to leave when Shouto gets a hold of his arm right before he can walk past him.
He can’t let him walk away before telling him.
“That’s not everything, I—”
Bakugou doesn’t try to yank his arm back. Instead, he takes a step forward, yanks Shouto down by the collar of his costume, and smashes their lips together, clumsily. Shouto’s eyes go wide and he feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe.
“Bakugou?” Shouto blinks as Bakugou pulls away.
“I know, okay?” he says, his voice just above a whisper. He lifts his hand and places it on the back of Shouto’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “Save it.”
Shouto places his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders, tentatively, and looks into his eyes. Those beautiful vermilion eyes, full of life, burning like hot coals.
“But what if we don’t get another—”
“Shut it.” Bakugou brings his other hand up and presses a finger over Shouto’s lips, shutting him up. “Listen, moron, this is what we’re going to do.” The hand on the back of his neck keeping him in place is firm and warm. “We’re gonna step out there, I’m gonna kick Shigaraki’s ass, and you’re gonna do whatever the fuck you need to do. Go. Save your stupid fucking brother. Give him a nice punch for my sake, since I can’t do it myself yet, and we’re good.”
Shouto’s breath gets stuck in his throat. He’s too stunned to say anything coherent.
“Then, you come back to me,” Bakugou continues. “You fucking come back, Shouto . I swear, if you dare die out there, I’m gonna bring your ass back just so I can kill you myself.”
Shouto’s eyes widen when he hears Bakugou call him by his name. His lips inevitably quirk up, even if it’s only slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough.
“And then you’ll tell me, okay? And I’ll give you a fucking answer.”
“But what if we can’t—what if we—”
Bakugou leans in and shuts him up with another kiss. This one is more sure, more Bakugou’s brand of confidence. This time, Shouto closes his eyes and lets himself melt into it, tasting it, enjoying it. Bakugou’s lips are a bit chapped from the cold, but the touch is surprisingly soft.
“Have you ever seen me half-ass anything, Icyhot?” he asks as he pulls away once again and Shouto shakes his head, still half-lidded and a little astonished at what’s happened between them a second ago. “I’m gonna fucking come back. I, no, fuck. We—we’ll fucking win this. Flawless fucking victory and shit. All of us.”
Shouto throws himself at Bakugou and wraps his arms around his shoulders, taking advantage of those few small inches he has over him. He hides his face in the crook of Bakugou’s neck, sniffing his sweet-scented sweat. Relief washes over him as Bakugou winds his arms around him, hugging him back.
A hug. They’re hugging.
This feels even more impossible than Bakugou kissing him.
“You have to promise,” Shouto mutters against Bakugou’s shoulder. “Promise you’ll come back.”
“I’ll never lose. You should know this, fucking half-and-half.”
Shouto squeezes him tighter. His heart feels like it’s being squished as if someone has grabbed it and is squeezing, tighter and tighter. He never wants to let go of Bakugou.
Eventually, however, he has to. Bakugou goes back to his room and Shouto is left staring at his door, thinking it over. What has just happened. What they’ve promised. Shouto’s feeling more confident now.
Katsuki said they were going to win. Shouto trusts him.