Chapter Text
Izuku was a busy college student. It came with the career, nothing to be done about that, but the internship after school and the part-time job every other day was seriously killing him. He wasn’t prideful, exactly, but his flaw of trying to do everything himself was starting to catch up to him, shamefully pointed out to him by his boss Mr. Nighteye when he slammed the stack of papers onto his desk. Mirio had tried to cheer him up, but Izuku knew he had reached the end of his rope. Something had to give, he just didn’t know what.
Maybe quitting his part-time would help for a while. Money, thankfully, wasn’t an immediate concern since college was fully paid off with his scholarships, and he’d been working his ass off since high school, mostly to help his single mom but also because he just liked keeping busy.
His thoughts were eating his mind, and it all came crashing down when he got to his apartment. It was a disaster. The only time he was home now was to eat dinner and sleep, but somehow the couple of socks at the edge of his bed had piled up to a heap of clothes he had to climb over, the few cups on his coffee table turned to his whole kitchen island being suffocated with days old dishes. And that was the straw on the camel’s back.
Izuku’s breath were jagged, the panic and anxiety that had been stacking up for months finally toppling over. Something had to give, and he knew where to start.
“I wouldn’t mind doing it, really!”
“Honestly, it’s way too embarrassing to even think about.”
Uraraka and him were sitting at their usual lunch table, the huge dinner hall of their university windows showering them with bright spring sunshine. Their table was usually filled to the edges with their group, but today Izuku had stolen his friend away to vent. Uraraka had a way of dissolving his problems, of making them simply float away.
“But that’s what I do! Believe me, there’s nothing hiding at your place that could scare me away,” Uraraka giggled. “You’re my friend, but I can be professional.”
Izuku huffed out a laugh. “I know, it’s just… feels weird paying a friend to clean my apartment.” Just as she was about to start arguing back, Izuku placed his hand on top of hers gently. “I really appreciate it, but I’m okay.”
Uraraka smiled softly and nodded in understanding. “Fine, can I at least refer you to someone else? Everyone at our service is great, and I can- “
“I’ll be okay ‘Chaco!” Izuku laughed. Really, he would take anyone that had no connection to him, just to save the embarrassment of having someone who normally saw him as a hard-working guy as a slob instead.
Now Uraraka was frowning. “God you’re annoying.” Izuku nodded. “Well, you can probably find something on the internet. People are always selling their services there.”
“Seems sketchy.”
“Only if you look up sketchy stuff.” Fair.
So, when he got home later that night, he opened his computer, and stared dumbly at the Google home page. What the hell would he even look for? He tried Maid Service first and a lot of promising websites came on, but the more links he clicked, the more uncomfortable he got.
Izuku, FOR THE RECORD, is not a sexist. In fact, he’s the opposite. He knew that he was looking for a service that they were all willingly providing, like his very good friend Uraraka, but damn did it feel weird thinking of paying a woman to clean his apartment. He was also very aware that he was overthinking this too much.
Too wrapped up in his own thoughts of whether or not it was fucked up to have that thought to begin with, he mindlessly typed in Man Maid Service.
He had spent what felt like ages looking through websites and profiles but it just kept getting weirder and weirder. Did maids typically promote their business with such skimpy outfits? Just as he was about to call it a night, he found a profile that looked promising. The company’s name was simply DynaMight Inc. and the picture was of a blonde man that could’ve easily passed as a headshot for any modelling agency. It was the first profile in a while where the guy was wearing a simple black shirt, straight-faced with his arms crossed. Seemed good enough.
After some formal back and forth, they had agreed to meet at Izuku’s place to make it a done deal. He was an anxious mess and was so glad he’d asked him to come before his classes, so he could simply introduce himself, show him the apartment, and bolt.
Right at 9:30, soft knocks echoed throughout his apartment.
Shit.
Maybe Izuku can pretend not to be home. Maybe he could apologize through messenger later and say it was a mistake. Hell, when confronted he could even say that the guy knocked at the wrong door and ghost. A million options rattled through his mind but when more knocks, a little louder now, reached him, his feet moved forward.
Bakugo was the guy’s name. He was wearing a black turtle neck underneath a heavy black coat that had orange detailing throughout. Izuku stood to the side of his door as he walked past, feeling like a guest in his own home, but not in any way Izuku cared negatively for. Bakugo felt… bigger than Izuku’s dirty four walls. It was only the two of them, but it could’ve been hundreds of people and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Bakugo commanded attention, and Izuku willingly gave it.
He started to apologize for the mess, but once he saw Bakugo’s annoyed raised eyebrows, he laughed the last of his words away, bashfully placing his hand behind his head.
“You said once a week would be good, right?” Izuku was awestruck by the deep roughness of the guy’s voice. Of course, he’d imagined it behind the toneless text messages but it was so different hearing it.
“Ye-yeah, I thought that’d be okay.” His eyes did a quick sweep of the living room and kitchen. “But if you think an extra day works better that’s fine with me.”
Bakugo made his way through the kitchen, surveying the countertops carefully. He treated the living room with the same care, not removing his hands from his jacket’s pockets, just taking everything in. With a familiarity Izuku found surprising, Bakugo made his way into the hallway that lead to the single other room occupying the apartment. Izuku awkwardly waited by the front door, suddenly not sure how to act in his own home. He quietly walked to the living room (why quietly?) and started taking in his own space as if he was looking at it through a stranger’s eyes. God, he really was a mess.
Just before the embarrassment could settle in, Bakugo came back to meet Izuku. His face was unreadable, almost uninterested. Izuku took that as a win. Rather uninterested that judgmental.
“I could do two, three hours the first couple of weeks until I get this place under control.” Ouch. “Once it’s livable again, I probably won’t need more than an hour.”
A sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding escaped his chest. “That sounds great!”
Bakugo simply nodded, satisfied with Izuku’s response. “And the hourly pay works?”
“I mean, you’ve seen this place. The fact that you want to take it on at all is amazing, so the price is no problem.” Another nod. “Does this time work for you? I know we kind of talked about the time frame but you’d say you’d let me know?”
Bakugo was taking his jacket off, and Izuku started to choke on his own spit like a fucking loser. Bakugo’s turtleneck was missing sleeves, revealing tanned muscular arms that seemed to be made from marble. He could feel his face grow red and was only saved by the chiming of his phone indicating the fifteen-minute mark.
“Uh,” he shuffled towards the kitchen where he had an envelope ready, “I’m gonna be heading out now, if that’s okay, but this is for you.” He was jumping the gun a bit, but he was really hoping this would work out. And Bakugo seemed trustworthy enough. If it ended up biting Izuku in the ass, he had no one to blame but himself.
Bakugo eyed the contents, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re not gonna be here?”
Shit. Izuku started to panic a little. “N-no, no, I actually have class around this time so I’m not gonna be around.”
“Hence the key,” Bakugo said as he held the copy up.
“I didn’t think I’d have to be around-“ Izuku started to explain himself but Bakugo was already pocketing the key.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. My clients like to stick around but this isn’t a problem.”
“Oh, well, you seem like a good guy. Just knowing you’re here helping me out, that’s all I need.”
Bakugo huffed out a chuckle, and Izuku once again tried to hide his blushing cheeks. He reached into his backpack, doing quick math before giving Bakugo the amount for the day. Another skeptical look from the blonde, but this time he didn’t say a word when he reached for the money.
More chiming startled Izuku into reality.
“Um, okay. I also left my number in the envelope in case you need anything,” he said as he threw his yellow backpack on and grabbed his coffee cup. “I can answer texts so feel free to reach out. Is there anything you need from me?”
Izuku met Bakugo’s eyes and had to actively try to maintain eye contact. In between admiring his mere presence and getting distracted with his impressive muscles, Izuku hadn’t really looked at his guest’s face, but now he was able to do so freely he started kicking himself for not doing it sooner. Bakugo’s eyes were permanently creased in the center from all the frowning he probably did but it didn’t distract from his bright almond eyes. Maybe it was the lighting, but Izuku could swear that they were almost crimson. An amused smile played on Bakugo’s lips as he sized Izuku up, who was standing with his puffy red-yellow-blue stripped coat and feeling more and more like an idiot.
“I should be good,” Bakugo said with an air of humor. Probably at Izuku’s expense.
Izuku started shuffling towards the door, but as he was about to step out, he turned to face the blonde again, whose eyes were still laser focused on Izuku. “Um, I left coffee on the pot. I don’t have a lot of food but you can help yourself for whatever!”
When the door shut, he took a minute to regain his composure. Having a hot guy at his place cleaning wasn’t a terrible deal, but he’d have to come to terms with never having a chance with the guy who’d have to clean after him.
The sharp March air snapped him into focus, and the hot blonde was nothing but an after thought he was able to wash down with his milked down coffee.
The stars had aligned themselves today just for Izuku and he was so grateful he could have cried.
He had requested today off from his internship because he had scheduled a meeting with his professor but she had apologetically cancelled last minute and rescheduled for a later day, and after having cut his hours at the school library he worked part-time at, that meant his day ended right at 12 pm. It was heaven sent, the universe smiling down upon him and rewarding him but a long over due day off.
Izuku had a spring in his step as he made his way home, mentally planning the rest of his day – play video games, watch tv, and sleep. Three luxuries he’d been deprived of since starting college in August.
Only half way home did he remember that he wasn’t going home to an empty house.
Today marked the fourth Monday since Bakugo had started working, and unmistakably being the reason Izuku had been so much more stress-free at work. Even Mr. Nighteye said his work was adequate, which had been the highest compliment he’d gotten from the guy.
It had been going smoothly, Bakugo getting there just before Izuku left for class, seemingly having memorized the chiming from when they’d first met. They exchanged simple greetings, Izuku always commenting about the coffee pot being full for Bakugo and Bakugo always watching him leave.
He considered texting him to let him know that he’d be home early but he was only 5 minutes walking distance. Bakugo had been doing such a great job, he’d tell him to go home early today and take the full three hours pay. The sun was bright and even the brisk April air filled his lungs sweetly. It seemed like things were finally looking up.
Music was spilling into the silent hallway, and as Izuku got closer to his apartment door, the more apparent it became that it was coming from his place. It wasn’t loud or offensive music, so Izuku didn’t think much of it as he opened his door and let it wash over him.
The balcony doors were open to let the smell of cleaner wash out but Izuku wasn’t a fan of the cold, so he swiftly went to close the doors. As he made his way through the living room, the music was turned down, footsteps approaching from his room.
“Hey, you’re back early,” Bakugo said, more as a statement than an accusation.
“Yeah, one of my lucky days,” Izuku laughed as he drew the curtains. He wanted his home to be a cave for the next 18 hours to maximize the laziness. He turned to face Bakugo, “so you can actua- “
The coffee cup he had still been holding spilled from his hand onto the ground. Thankfully it was empty, but even if it’d been full to the brim, Izuku wouldn’t have given a fuck.
Standing in front of him stood Bakugo, bare chest staring Izuku dead in the eyes. The tan he’d admired that first day spread throughout Bakugo’s massive pecks, abs resting comfortably on his stomach that had the beginnings of a happy trail that was covered by incredibly snug fitting orange underwear. Unmistakably sitting on the upper part of his right thigh sat the biggest, soft –
“What the hell are you doing?!” Izuku pulled his coat up to cover his sweating face.
“You okay?” Bakugo was closing the distance, and Izuku was able to see the spiky hair leaning down, getting dangerously close to-
He retreated in a hurry, his legs hitting the sofa and sprawling him on top. In a hurry, Izuku grabbed one of the cushions and buried his face in it, not wanting to take in any more of the mesmerizing sight.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Bakugo asked, annoyed. Izuku heard the coffee cup hit the surface of the coffee table. “Are you having a meltdown?”
“I could ask you the same thing!” Izuku didn’t even care about the squeak in his voice.
“What are you talking about?”
“WhY Are YoU NakED?!”
Bakugo heaved out a heavy sigh, the frustration behind it swimming underneath the cushion Izuku still held firmly onto his face. He heard the soft slapping of feet against floor as Bakugo retreated, but Izuku still didn’t remove the cushion from his face even when Bakugo came back to the room.
“Hey.” Izuku stayed as still as a statue. Maybe this would all get resolved if he did. “HEY.” That’s what I get, Izuku thought, for jinxing myself. Now, I’m going to jail for forcing someone to clean naked for me.
The pillow was roughly pulled from his hands. Izuku didn’t have his eyes closed, mostly from shock (partly because he was a young man that hadn’t gotten laid in months and this was practically placed on his lap) and was greeted with a fully clothed Bakugo. You truly only miss things once they’re gone.
Bakugo was pissed, the crease in between his eyebrows burning into Izuku. “What the fuck is your deal, dude?”
Izuku sat up, avoiding eye contact. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, “let me have a more appropriate response to seeing a naked guy cleaning my apartment.”
“You never told me what you wanted me to wear so I went with my usual fit,” Bakugo said, in a tone that implied Izuku was the stupid one for not getting it.
“Because I assumed ‘regular clothes’ went unsaid!”
“Why are you being such a bitch?” Bakugo sat at the other end of the couch. Izuku jumped, walking to the other side of the coffee table, back against the balcony doors. “Honestly, what the fuck is your deal?”
“Answer my question first!”
Bakugo looked confused for a second, then angry, and then something dawned on him. He slowly got up, as if he was approaching a wounded animal he didn’t want to spook. Which, honestly, Izuku felt like.
“That’s my job,” Bakugo said, slowly, trying to get Izuku to understand. “I clean either naked or in outfits for clients that like to watch.”
Izuku’s face had been red since he’d first seen Bakugo, but now he actually felt the blood rushing to his head dangerously fast. How the fuck did this happen? How did he hire someone like this with no knowledge? He was seriously at a loss for words, unable to come to terms with his own stupidity.
“Did you really not know?” Bakugo was awestruck, just as amazed with Izuku’s stupidity as he was.
“I really didn’t,” he squeaked.
Bakugo stared at him for a minute before starting to laugh, softly at first but then getting more and more hysterical, until he was holding his stomach and wiping a tear from his eye. Without a word, he started to gather his belongings, in the process doing finishing touches to the apartment like straightening Izuku’s shoes by the door and hanging his keys on the key holder. Izuku was still stuck in place, just watching the blonde go about his business.
When he seemed satisfied with his work, Bakugo carefully walked over to Izuku again. He still had a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
“Here, for the mix up.” Bakugo held the envelope that Izuku had given him in the morning.
“No, no, it’s yours.”
“Come on, just take it, it feels wrong to take it.”
“It’s yours. Consider it my fee for being a dumbass.” Bakugo seemed content with that answer. He shoved the envelope into an inner pocket in his jacket. “I really am sorry for the confusion.”
“Can’t say that it’s happened before, but no sweat.” They stood there for a minute. Bakugo’s face was now that same unreadable expression he usually wore and Izuku could feel his face’s heat level returning to normal. Izuku opened his mouth to say something – anything – but Bakugo beat him to the punch. “You have my number. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Izuku flapped his mouth a couple of times, trying but failing to say even a single thing. What could he even say in a situation like this. In defeat, he simply nodded.
Bakugo sized him up one more time, amusement flashing across his features when his eyes reach Izuku’s waist.
“I’ll see you around.”
The apartment sat quietly while Izuku tried to come to terms with everything that had just happened. He would have stood there all day, but his jeans were digging into his groin and he couldn’t wait any longer. In a flash, he jumped into the shower, letting the hot water caress his body while his hand worked fast strokes, the imagine of Bakugo’s bare chest and resting groin against his tight boxers burned into his eyelids.
If that was the fastest he’s ever come, that was his business. If he spent the rest of his day off intermediately jacking off, that was also his business.