Work Text:
Midoriya walked up to the podium, an excited smile on his lips. He looked at his class, all seated accordingly.
He began drawing characters on the blackboard behind him to build suspense.
“For today's hero training, we’re going to do something a bit special.” He finished with the chalk, stepping out of the way grandly with a smile.
Large bold letters read:
Anti-Villain Training, Organization Takedown.
He began to pace in front of the class, each slow click of his expensive shoes commanding and carrying a sense of finality.
“Everyone here is working under various hero agencies across Japan. You’ve all been called together to disband and capture a newfound Villain organization. The police have been investigating this group for quite a while, and they’ve finally gotten a permit to search their property. it is your job to bring it down before any Civilian casualties, as well as secure the Villains as quickly and nonviolently as possible.”
“Hah!” A boy with light blonde spiky hair crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. Midoriya knew him as the most prominent figure in his class, Tamashiro. He steered conversations with his boisterous personality. “Nonviolently? Don’t Villains just want to kill us?”
Midoriya smiled, it was their first month. They had much to learn.
“It’s important to realize villains always have a reason for their actions. Understanding this is key in taking them down for good. Most villains you face will be able to be reasoned with, and reformed.” He thought of La Brava and Gentle. “Though, it’s important to keep in mind, occasionally force is the only way to prevent civilian casualties.”
He paused to look over his class, who all seemed to be marveling in the wisdom.
“Listen to your moral code. Most villains are simply misunderstood. We are all human, after all.”
He cleared his throat, dress shoes sharply clacking on the linoleum as he turned back to the board, drawing a quick map of a building.
“I digress. This is the map you were shown in the conference. Remember it now, because there won’t be paper copies in battle.” He gestured. “Here, in the center of the underground labyrinth, is your main objective. It’s rumored this Organization is creating an illegal drug, and this is where they store their lab equipment as well as their samples.
Apprehend the sample, and secure it outside the facility. Attempt to preserve the lab for evidence, but deconstruct its systems as you see fit”
The vagueness got him a few confused mumbles, and Midoriya continued to cheerfully explain, switching papers on the podium.
“You also have tasks, which are your ability to earn extra points.
Number 1, support. You are to support your teammates as well as yourself.”
Number 2, communication. How well do you communicate your plans?”
Number 3, execution. How do you carry these out?”
“You will lose if, and only if:” he put a finger up with each reason, “the villains escape with the source, you all are apprehended, or time runs out. Do anything you possibly can to prevent these three outcomes. I’lll say it plainly, you will get a higher grade if you complete the objective and tasks hand in hand.”
“Simple enough, really.” He smiled at the charts he made on the board as he spoke. Dumbing everything down. “Please, tread carefully.” He looked up, cooly, a dangerous smile on his lips.
“There’s no telling who’s beyond the front door.”
Everyone shivered.
“Now, change out and head to ground beta!” Midoriya said, chipper. Excited to see his students in action.
He bit the skin of his thumb. His students needed a reality check, fast . He was actually banking on the fact they would make mistakes. They were powerful heroes in the making, sure, but were way too overzealous in their work. He needed to teach them general planning skills. None of his more peaceful approaches were working.
The main consequence of their impatience was going to be Bakugou in the corridors, guarding the fake drugs. His students never came face to face with the hero like this, and he was really hoping Bakugou would beat some sense into their asses, somewhat. He did this out of affection, really. His teaching habits were leaning too far into “throwing caution into the wind” rather than “cool laid back teacher who was only strict if you pushed.” And he really didn’t want to get fired.
So here he was, his saving grace, Katsuki Bakugou. He was smart with kids, even if he didn’t act like it. He’d know what to do.
I really should’ve gotten my bachelors in education. I think this is totally illegal.
Even if the whole class went at him, Bakugou would come out victorious. In order to defeat him, they would need a plan. Unknowingly falling into Midoriya’s true lesson plan.
“You have the backbone of a donut.” Aizawa crossed his arms, hovering as he watched the screen from their observation box. A few screens showed his students confidently working against a sea of bots, allowing a third of the class to slip through the front door while the other group fought the D-listers.
“I admit, it’s cruel.”
“You’re having Bakugou clean up your dirty work instead of herding the class yourself.”
“He said he would do it.”
“And how’d you convince him?” Aizawa lifted his voice at the end, curiously in his tone.
A well placed shower.
But Midoriya didn’t bear to say it, as he never was that bold, especially to the face of a teacher he looked up to for the last 9 years. He looked at the screens instead, a small, worried smile on his face. not saying a word.
He stared at the image of Bakugou, arms poised on his hips and a manic grin on his face. 25 pound weights on each limb.
Yeah. This would work.
“Ah!? G-great- DYNAMIGHT!?”
“Hey, Masegaki brat. I never forget a quirk.” He rammed one of the projectiles into the wall, jaw first, hearing it crack before he blew it up.
Tamashiro whirled back around the corner, back to the edge, narrowly avoiding a huge gauntlet blast.
“What’s he thinking!?” Midoriya heard a crackle through the com line. “He’s going to kill us! We’re going to be killed by the number 2, sometimes number 1 hero.”
Midoriya calmly smiled, having been waiting for this. He pressed a button on the receiver. “Kacchan. escape.”
“Come out, little brats! Are you planning on staying down there forever?” Despite his taunting words, Bakugou turned to the end of the hall, running towards the drug-room. Grabbing the “samples” and such.
“Hey! What are you idiots doing!?” Yuriko Suzuki, a standoffish brunette with an incredible plant-type power, shouted at the meager group that had gotten this far. Her and Tamashiro were the only heavy hitters of the team, the other two were supportive characters. One, with discs that manifested from his hair, the other with a glue type solvent. “He’s getting away with the objective!”
“We’ll lose!” Atsushi Tanaka, the disc thrower, exclaimed. He only shifted his stance, though, eyebrows furrowing with the weight of his ideas.
Chiaki Ishioka, the solvent creator, waited for further instruction.
Tamashiro, not thinking twice, swiveled and ran from the corner, head first at Bakugou.
“Tamashiro!” Tanaka called after him, frustrated, even after he was long gone. “We need a plan!”
Midoriya winced from where he was watching, unfortunately docking points on his computer due to the lack of communication.
He sort of lied at the start. Each student started out with 50 points. He would dock a few depending on the misdemeanor.
Bakugou allowed him to get close before he swiveled on the brat, nailing him with a calf to the stomach and kicking him into the wall with a speed that was downright scary.
“Charging in, hah!?” He shook his head bitterly. “Izuku’s got his hands full this year. Maybe he should adopt some of Aizawa’s techniques if he wants hero society to have a chance.”
Bakugou turned suddenly, punching one of the strange mouthed monstrosities that tried to get the jump on him.
“Sorry, Kacchan.”
Goop enveloped his arm, slick and gray.
It began to harden.
“Oh, brat.”
He aimed the gauntlet of his covered arm towards the rest of the group that was still beyond the wall, pulling the pin while the formula was still wet.
His arm enveloped in heat, the explosion ringing down the hall and charring the ceiling. It blew the solution off of his arm successfully.
Tamashiro pushed from the wall, coughing, falling to his knees. The blast narrowly avoided him, Bakugou made sure of it.
Tamashiro looked up at him with a glare that was almost predatory.
“You only have two of those, don’t you?”
It was a respectful effort of trying to combine the glue, vines, and discs, but Bakugou was a machine. Every inch of his fiber was knitted to accommodate war, violence, and speed. He reshaped his body the entire 25 years of his life, making it into a single, pointed spark. He was a harbinger of mitigation, destruction, and discipline. The controlled fire that ignited underbush, preventing an inferno. He was a body created to destroy, so others could rebuild on fertile soil.
Bakugou was a hardened veteran at 25. It was safe to say he knew his shit, and he knew it well.
He would break these shitty habits these kids had, and set seeds of growth they could actually benefit from. Despite what he told himself, Midoriya was a good teacher. He’d just gotten some awry sprouts he couldn’t quite straighten out with his non-confrontational personality.
That’s what Bakugou was here for, anyway.
He ended up wrapping the four in Suzuki’s own vines and escaping down a side tunnel. Leaving the first years bruised, hurt, and with crushed ego’s.
He didn’t escape unscathed, though, the weights slowing him down enough to where half of his torso was covered in gray hardened sludge. He frowned as he met Midoriya, placing the jar that represented the drugs on the table.
It held a small Dynamight figurine.
Midoriya leaned back, having just finished his announcement of the class’s failure.
“You aren’t funny for that.” He stated, shedding the weights. “And, how do I wash this off?”
“Hydrogen peroxide.”
“Thanks.”
“Uh, Kacchan?” He swiveled in his chair to face him completely. He paused, sending Midoriya a curious look. “Thanks for this.”
Bakugou, dreadfully aware of Aizawa in the room, remained gruff.
“Yeah, whatever.”
He left through a backdoor.
“You had pro hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight be the big Villain!?” One of his students bemoaned, now all bruised from their own battles as they all both broke down the battle. “That isn’t fair!”
“No, you all just suck.”
“Kacchan, do not fight with my class right now.” He tugged on his rat tails, making Bakugou seeth.
He turned to his students, now gravely serious, like his hand was not currently forcing the Number 2, sometimes 1 , hero’s face skyward. “Yes. I did. I hope you understand why.”
“Everyone was overconfident with their ability.” Kota spoke up for the first time that day, arms crossed and head tilted slightly downcast. “Better it be a Pro hero with somewhat of a filter, instead of a genuine threat.”
Midoriya nodded, smiling warmly, releasing Bakugou, who bounced right back into shouting again.
“You think this exercise was unfair!? Crawl into a hole and die!!” Bakugou shouted passionately from where he was standing in front of the class. “Becoming a hero means facing threats that are more powerful than you daily. There is always a bigger fish. I get that you think your abilities are powerful, and they are to a fault, but without a plan, you will be useless against someone stronger.” He put his hands on his hips, eyes sharp. “Am I understood!?”
The class was quick with their affirmation, most likely out of fear.
“Good, 'cause if I see you all fighting some useless D listers in five years, I’ll hunt you down myself for wasting Deku’s time. Do you understand!!?”
The class agreed again, this time quicker.
He swiveled on his heel, facing the still-smiling teacher of the class.
“Deku, your class is royally stupid. Expel all of them.” Bakugou said, not quiet whatsoever.
The class, seemingly shocked he would say this so to-their-faces after he gave them a somewhat motivational speech, went into hysterics.
Midoriya sighed in the face of the frantic teenagers, dismissing them to the locker rooms vaguely.
It was another two weeks until they made a gap in their schedules to see each other again. It was annoyingly suspenseful, and by the end of it, Bakugou found himself not being able to focus on any of his work for more than thirty minutes.
Call it codependency, call it clingy, he didn’t care. He just wanted Midoriya by his side again.
Bakugou propped his socked feet on Midoriya’s lap, resting them on his laptop keyboard. The flurry of typing stopped with the action.
“Kacchan.”
Bakugou peaked up over the top of his book, grinning behind the pages playfully. “What?”
“I’m trying to work.”
“On what?”
“Lesson plans. I’m going to have them research our textbooks on situational apprehension and execution.”
“Oh, those sucked.”
“I know, right? I hate grading research papers, but I need them to read these things and understand.” Midoriya sighed. “I know I can technically teach how I want to, but I really wouldn’t want to stray too far from the formula since it’s only my second year.”
“Alright, sensei,” Midoriya wrinkled his nose at that. “come here.”
“Don’t embarrass yourself.”
Still, after removing Bakugou’s feet from his keyboard, he stood and walked to his cushion, flopping down right between Bakugou’s splayed legs. Purposely narrow in avoiding a world of hurt for him.
He ripped open his laptop again, back to Bakugou as he sat in between his legs.
Bakugou set off a few small pops in his palms, containing them closely, then slid his warmed hands underneath his shirt and over the peak of his shoulder blades.
Midoriya stopped typing briefly, sighing into the touch, content in the moment.
Bakugou worked the knots from his back slowly and Midoriya began typing again, less frantic. Bakugou found himself absentmindedly reading the words from over his shoulder.
He didn’t know when they had reached this level of casual intimacy, but everything just seemed to.. work.
Katsuki was selfish to a fault. This was ineffably true, but he supposed he could find the spare room in his heart to cram Midoriya in there, too.
He ignored the fact he had been there his whole life. That he was just trying to fit their new relationship dynamic into his daily life. But, he was continuously misguided by the fact Midoriya wanted to touch him. And that the desire was real, and went far deeper than the thin veil of cheap sex. Midoriya simply touched him, not showing expectation for it to go further, and that was just.. nice.
His little pool of other partners simply couldn’t compare. The people who occupied the period where Midoriya was taking up the mantle of teaching and Bakugou was building his own Agency, where he and Midoriya’s meetings were sparse, far and few in-between. When they were across Japan from each other, swamped with an impossible amount of work and no free time to visit one another.
As far as he knew, Midoriya hadn’t dated in the timeframe. He couldn’t say the same about himself.
Curious, young, recently famous, and exposed to a wide charcuterie board of connections and substances, Bakugou had his fair share of fake romance.
Maybe they all failed due to the fact he couldn’t stop imagining their bodies were Midoriya’s. How he closed his eyes as soon as they all got close to touch. Sure his actions were selfish, but he wasn’t going to pretend these people weren’t taking advantage of him, too.
He wasn’t loyal to a fault like Midoriya had been, and he regretted it. He regretted it horribly.
But what was he to do, then? Sexually driven up a wall and mad . Barely legal for alcohol, and longing for a touch so far away. He wasn’t sure how Midoriya had shouldered it.
He hugged him around the waist and rested his ear on the dime of his back, smelling Midoriya’s shampoo. Fuck it. He was clingy and tired and regretful. Maybe Midoriya could feel his love and, likewise, guilt through his fingertips.
He’d let a stranger see his weakness to avoid facing Midoriya with it, and that felt particularly cowardly and thick on his throat.
Midoriya reached back, stroking a hand through his hair a few times over, like he could hear his worrying thoughts.
“You can stop reminiscing, you know. I’m still here.”
Bakugou held him tighter, tears spilling onto Midoriya’s white shirt. He was possessive to a fault, and curled around Midoriya like a bratty kid would a beloved toy.
Figuratively, Bakugou would never be able to let go again. He was lucky Midoriya was such a pure person, cause they both knew he had Bakugou wrapped tightly around his fingers. He’d, disgustingly, do anything Midoriya asked. And sure, Midoriya would be nice about it, stroking the flames of his desire before asking for something, but it was all the same.
They could not stay separate for long.
“I’m not reminiscing.” He said, voice wobbly.
“Oh. dwelling .”
Midoriya had a small smile to his voice, but sounded unbearably concerned.
“I’m not dwelling, either. Shut up.” He dug his nose into the fabric. Midoriya seemed unconvinced, still stroking his hair comfortingly.
“You always dwell.”
“I do not.” He sniffled, pathetically, looking past Midoriya’s shoulders through tears.
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
Midoriya sighed at his indifference. Both of them were equally tired, and Bakugou would not give himself permission to sleep until Midoriya was right there beside him.
“Go to bed.” Midoriya sounded defeated, and Bakugou clung tighter, shaking his head once. “You get stupid when you’re tired.”
“Come with me.”
“I have to work, Kacchan.”
“Then I’ll work with you.”
“Stubborn.”
Bakugou bit him through his shirt, softly.
“Hey-! Ow? Stop!”
He sniffed again, grossly. Now, using crocodile tears. “Come to bed. It’s Sunday tomorrow, you can work then.”
“Kacchan.”
“I don’t sleep well when you’re not there.” He grumbled, these words for Midoriya and Midoriya alone. He wouldn’t dare be this clingy and whiny towards anyone else.
“Kacchan.”
“Lay with me.”
“Fine.” He shut his computer softly, with a sort of finality. Bakugou slid from the couch.
Then, he hoisted Midoriya into an eased bridal carry, much to Izuku’s surprise.
“Hey!”
“Shush.” Bakugou sleepily stumbled through his apartment, having Midoriya turn off all the lights, before heaving him onto his bed dramatically.
He flopped down on top of him, using his chest as a pillow and pinning him onto the bed.
“Shush .” He repeated, sleepily.
He slid a hand up to rest near Midoriya’s jaw, and sleep came quickly.
Small moats of dust clung to the morning sunbeams that slipped through his curtains, framing Izuku’s jaw with a soft glow. The AC hummed on the opposite wall to them, softly making the room colder so they could comfortably huddle closer.
The light didn’t shine into Midoriya’s eyes, but it yellowed a fourth of his face. Gentle. Calm.
Bakugou wanted to kiss him, but adhering to the tea example and also having morning breath, he fought against the urge. Instead, he stared at a sleeping Midoriya. He looked so tired, still. Even when he was asleep. Bakugou didn’t like it one bit.
He traced his collarbones absentmindedly. Bold. Strong. Supportive. Seriously, Midoriya’s build getting stockier as he reached adulthood was probably the best thing that’s happened to Katsuki.
Okay, that was probably a lie, but still. He really likes the newer muscles. Midoriya was never one to show off, either, which left Bakugou reeling every time he took his shirt off.
Right now, he only got a promiscuous peak from beyond Midoriya’s stretched collar. It was enough, for now. He could play the long game.
It was deep into the morning, and really bordered afternoon. It was terribly rare for either of them to have a free period like this, so Bakugou soaked it up while he could. This nice, tender moment.
Before Midoriya sleepily patted his shoulder three or so times, fluttering his eyes open for a second, before aborting the action entirely.
“I needta work.” He groaned, voice groggy. Bakugou made a disappointed noise, but slid off of him anyway, detangling the mess that was their legs.
He had a patrol at 1, then some paperwork to fill out. It felt fleeting, the night and morning he had spent with Midoriya. He mourned the loss, even if he had squeezed everything he could out of the short time period.
Living in different apartments had its pros and cons.
Bakugou pulled on the black wife beater undershirt of his costume, slipping into the pants. It was a single bodysuit for convenience in battle, so he let the back part hang around the back of his waist like it was a jacket.
Midoriya was hanging back on the bed, still waking up, Bakugou was painfully aware of his gaze.
“I washed your suit yesterday. You’ll need to iron it, though.”
“Thanks, Kacchan.”
Bakugou spared a look at him, finding Midoriya’s eyes shamelessly trailing his body. He didn’t have the nerve to be embarrassed about it, and Bakugou didn’t have the nerve to be uncomfortable by it. Instead, he snorted.
Midoriya followed him to his bathroom, and they both picked up their separate toothbrushes. Bakugou squared his shoulders to prepare for the day, and Midoriya looked disheveled by his side in comparison, slouching and eyes half shut.
Bakugou ended up fretting over Midoriya’s hair, forcing him to wear a protective gel in order to save face. Midoriya was half-heartedly not having any of it, fighting him away weakly and complaining the entire time.
Bakugou, hands covered in gel, pulled his trump card by softly passing his nails across the back of Midoriya’s head, massaging the soft spot he knew resided there. As expected, Midoriya turned jelly-like into his arms, relaxing into the touch.
He won that one.
“Boiled or scrambled?”
“Hmm. Sunny side up?”
“You’re spoiled.” Bakugou set four slices of whole grain and his toaster oven, gliding to the stovetop to crack four eggs.
Midoriya set his jaw on his shoulder, overlooking. He handed Bakugou a glass lid from behind, which he accepted gratefully.
“Don’t act like you don’t encourage it.” Midoriya wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his neck. The action was carried out so naturally it left Bakugou red.
He recounted the past, and wondered, wholeheartedly, how this came to be the new normal.
Bakugou ended up ironing Midoriya’s suit. This was in no way weaponized incompetence on Midoriya’s end, but rather, him realizing what time it was and immediately panicking. He was gathering and organizing papers spread out around Bakugou’s apartment, flushed and frantic with worry.
Currently, he was looking for his laptop. How do you lose an entire computer?
Idiot.
Bakugou quickly ironed the tie, also. Flattening it across the board.
“I have to be there in thirty minutes and it’s a twenty-minute drive. Oh gosh. I'm going to be late.” Midoriya shoved the laptop into his bag. “Sorry for making you do this-“
He snatched the clothes from where Bakugou had folded them, changing right there. “I don’t mind, Izuku.”
Then, he flipped up Midoriya’s collar, quickly doing his tie. They worked together to pull on his suit jacket, too.
“I’ll drive you there.” He stated, because Midoriya had gotten to his apartment by metro.
“Thanks.”
Bakugou took his hand and headed to the door, using his free hand to zip up his Hero uniform.
They arrived at the building where they were holding an Annual Conference, one where Midoriya had a minor speaking. He had told Bakugou about it a month in advance, expressing his worries about it, Bakugou had forgotten until now.
“Good luck, Izuku.” He grumbled as he opened the door in a rush. Midoriya turned to him, wide-eyed, and smiled.
Allowing the moment to sweep him up, Bakugou took his tie into his hand, pulling Midoriya into a chaste kiss. He felt Midoriya’s hand trail down his face, pressing his high collar down. He was suddenly glad he had tinted windows.
“Thanks, Kacchan.” He said when they parted, smiling. Taking up his bag as Bakugou fixed the tie of his mess.
“Now go! You have five minutes.”
Midoriya checked the clock on the dashboard and instantly started to panic again. He rushed from the car, this time with a grin.