Chapter Text
"This one goes out to all the fucking nerds with sparkly eyes who make my life a fucking nightmare parade of freckles and sweater-weather vibes," Katsuki growled into the mic.
Beside him, Hanta had a hand a hand slapped over his mouth to contain his laughter.
"If any of you were wondering," Mina snickered into her own mic. "That's exactly one nerd."
"Shut the fuck up, Pinky," he snapped. He shut both their mics down and turned on the song, scraping his hand through pale blonde locks. Mina looked at the little notebook beside her.
"That's thirty songs in two weeks, Kats," she said, Cheshire smile curling her perfectly glossed lips.
"I'm gonna light your dumbass pink hair on fire," he warned.
"I'm just sayin'," she shrugged. "Wouldn't it be more productive to...ask him out instead of openly simping for the entire campus to hear?"
"Over my dead body," he replied. "Little shit hates me."
"Maybe because you called him a useless bitch boy ten minutes after meeting him," Hanta wheezed, still barely restraining his laughter. Katsuki bared his teeth at him, but didn't punch him.
His therapist was pretty damn sure punching was bad.
Besides—unlike Katsuki, Hanta had a goddamn date tonight and he'd look stupid as hell if Katsuki roughed him up.
"If he hadn't been acting like a bitch boy, I wouldn't have called him a fucking bitch boy," he hissed, dropping his head into his hands. How was he supposed to know that the nerd's adorable freckles mimicked constellations, and his passionate rambling would keep Katsuki up at night?
He talked so much. Katsuki could listen to him for hours. Days. Months. Lifetimes.
Except when it kept him from focusing on their OChem lectures, which is how Deku had made his first impression. He'd kept Katsuki from focusing in class with his endless muttering. He might have been a little nasty about it—more concerned with his grades than Deku's feelings. In his defense, it was way before Deku had become the sun to his whole fucking solar system.
But yeah, he' d made a fucking horrible first impression. By making the nerd cry in class, then calling him a useless bitch boy.
"I still think asking him out would be better than hopelessly pining during our radio hour," Mina said. He flipped her off.
Her phone chimed, and she smirked at him. "What?" he barked.
"That's Twitter," she said, as though explaining it to a baby. "Probably a comment about how we're not playing what our listeners want."
"Because it's a pining parade instead of hard rock and metal," Hanta agreed. "People are talking shit."
Katsuki flipped them both off this time—two hands held aloft like a fucking champion.
"If they have a fucking problem they can call in and say it to my goddamn face!"
Mina gave him a deadpan stare. "We stopped taking call-ins after you made that freshman wet himself in the library," she reminded him. He grimaced. He'd forgotten about that shit.
"Whatever. It doesn't fuckin' matter. I'll play something better for the next one."
Hanta and Mina exchanged doubtful glances. Then, Hanta hesitantly opened his mouth to say some shit that Katsuki didn't want to hear.
"You...said that five songs ago, dude. And you've played Mercy by Shawn Mendez twice since then."
Honestly? Fuck them both for keeping count.
Izuku could feel Kacchan's eyes on him, glaring holes in the back of his head as though somehow this was his fault. He hated group assignments, too. He was always left with all the hard work, and his group members would act like they'd been there the whole time, and he was too horrified by the notion of social pressure and shaming to turn them in for feeding off his work like it was theirs.
People were academic vampires. He would never ask for group work.
That didn't stop Katsuki from trying to light him on fire with his stare alone.
At least working with Katsuki meant that he wouldn't be working on the entire project alone. Katsuki was...the smartest person he'd ever met. Arguing with him made Izuku's heart race, and he usually had to strain to keep up.
Kacchan was amazing. Brilliant and spectacular. And hot, but his massive crush wasn't the point. He wasn't thrilled about having a group project but to him, the blow was softer because it was Kacchan.
Katsuki, on the other hand, was clearly enraged. The energy in the room was stifling, and he was honestly a little scared for his life.
"Remember to do the reading and problem set for next class," their professor drawled. "Or don't, and fail. Not really my problem."
He slouched out of the room a moment later, and Izuku could feel Kacchan prowling toward him. Maybe he should be formal and call him Bakugou today. Katsuki was for non-debate discussions. Bakugou was for when he wanted to maintain professional distance.
Kacchan was for when he wanted to rile the blonde up. It made his face all red and Izuku could pretend he was blushing. It was cute.
"Nerd," the blond spat, slamming his hand down on Izuku's desk.
"H-hi!" Izuku stuttered, giving him a wobbly smile. "Should we figure out when we're gonna work on our project?"
"Fucking obviously," he growled. Izuku repressed a shudder. He had...such a deep voice. "Why else would I be here, shithead?"
Izuku couldn't help himself. Challenging Katsuki was just too tempting. "To spend time with me, obviously," he said, smiling for real this time.
Katsuki scowled at him, face turning pink with anger. "You're a fucking turd. Focus, Deku."
Somehow, even when he spat his mean nickname for Izuku like a curse word, it gave him butterflies.
"Sorry," he chuckled. "I know working with me isn't ideal, but I'm sure we can work it out."
"Working with you isn't the problem," he grunted, pulling out his planner.
Izuku blinked. "It's not?"
"You're a cheeky little shit and all your opinions suck but at least you know your shit when it comes to straight up facts," he huffed. "Group work sucks ass in general."
"Huh, something we agree on," Izuku muttered, leafing through his own planner.
He looked up when Katsuki stayed silent. The blonde was giving him a weird look, eyes narrowed and flitting over his face. Examining him. "What?"
"Nothing," he muttered. "When're you free?"
Izuku studied him for a moment, unsure if he was really okay. He kinda had to take his word for it, though. They weren't exactly on emotional support terms. "I'm kinda jammed up this week, but I'm free around 8 on Tuesday or 6 on Wednesday?"
Katsuki pulled a face, and his heart sank. "Can't," he grunted. "Got work until nine on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday."
That itch—the need to know everything about him—overcame him. "Oh? What do you do?"
"None of your fucking business!" Katsuki barked, face going brick red. Izuku flinched back, face falling. Up until then, the conversation had been going pretty well.
"Sorry," he muttered. He looked back down at his planner, looking for a spare gap where they could plan out their project. Suddenly, he wanted to get this over with.
Katsuki let out a sigh. "Fuck, sorry. Don't wanna start shit if we're stuck together."
Izuku grimaced. That wasn't exactly flattering. Stuck together made him sound like the proverbial poop on the bottom of his shoe.
"It's fine, I shouldn't have pried," he said, pursing his lips in a thin smile. "It's not like we're friends, right? Didn't mean to be invasive."
"Jesus, it's not like I eat the dean's ass for a living, it's not that big a deal. I work for campus radio. Thought you'd make fun of it. It's not exactly rigorous."
Izuku gaped at him and Katsuki shifted uncomfortably.
"Are you kidding me? Kacchan, that's so cool!" he cried.
Katsuki flinched back, eyes widening dramatically.
"It's just a fucking job," he uttered, eyeing him like he'd explode.
In all fairness, Izuku was probably giving him his starry-eyed gaze—the one that was reserved for when Kacchan wasn't looking.
"It's cooler than mine!" he breathed. "Is it like a talk show? What's it about—"
"Calm the hell down, it's music. Hard rock and metal, six hours on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, like I said."
"I didn't know you liked music," Izuku grinned. Katsuki was getting redder, and he figured it was because he hated to admit he had a passion for something other than being a butthead. "Do you like it?"
Katsuki swallowed. He seemed a little shell-shocked, honestly. Maybe he should dial back the enthusiasm.
"Yeah, it's fine. Pays tuition, the people don't suck."
"The hours sound tough though," he said. It may have come out a little breathy. "And you still have such a good GPA, that's really...you're amazing."
Katsuki cleared his throat, ducking his head. "S'whatever. I can get work done between sets. That's why it works. But shit like group work makes it harder. Hard to schedule shit around it when it sucks up all the free time during my week."
Izuku's lips parted in understanding. "That makes sense," he murmured. He glanced back down at his planner. "I tutor twenty hours a week, but my students are pretty flexible. This week, why don't I get in touch with my Thursday students and see if they'd be willing to take some weekend slots until we're done?"
"Don't be a fuckin' martyr—"
"I'm not!" he promised. "It wouldn't be too bad. You can't switch your schedule as easily as I can," he said. His heart felt warm as he watched Katsuki's shoulders drop from around his ears.
He was relaxing. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Kacchan relax before.
"Thanks, Deku," he muttered. "If it doesn't fuck shit up for you, I'd appreciate it."
Izuku might honestly throw up the butterflies in his stomach. They were rioting, fluttering wildly with the possibility that he'd earned some goodwill. That wasn't why he'd offered, but he was thrilled with the outcome.
"No problem," he squeaked.
"Wanna meet this Thursday after classes? We can each bring a couple research topics and pick one."
"Sure," Kacchan replied. It was the most docile he'd ever been in Izuku's presence. Then, the telltale smirk spread across his face. "Even though we're gonna go with mine."
His jaw dropped, affronted. "We might go with mine!"
"Nah," he snickered, reaching out and ruffling Izuku's hair. His stomach free-fell to his knees. Katsuki must have realized what he was doing because he snatched his hand back. "My ideas are better."
That was a challenge.
Izuku grinned, sharp and competitive. A matching gleam entered Katsuki's eyes.
This is what Izuku loved about him. The thrill he got when he was being provoked. This was friendlier than usual, but it ignited that same spark. It felt like he was burning.
"You're on, Kacchan."
Katsuki was a fucking sucker.
That was the only explanation for why he'd caved so goddamn fast. The second Deku had given him that kicked-puppy look, he'd spilled the beans about his job all over the nerd's desk.
It had been worth it for the hero worship in his eyes. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. But goddamn, the way his eyes fucking sparkled. Stuff of dreams. Made his dumb heart flutter like a lil bitch. He was whipped as hell, and he knew it.
And Deku thought his shitty campus DJ job was cool. God, if that wasn't a stroke to his ego's dick, what was? It took all of his goddamn energy to not strut around like a fuckin' peacock.
"What the hell are you so happy about?" Hanta asked. Mina was chewing on a Red Vine, smirking at him from across the booth.
"None of your fuckin' business," he huffed.
"Bet it has to do with the sparkly-eyed nerd," she grinned. He rolled his eyes, but his stomach swooped. "It doooooes," she sang.
"You finally nut up and have a polite conversation with him?" Hanta asked. "Damn, if that's a major milestone, you'll be single till you're eighty."
"Fuck you, shitstain," Katsuki huffed, kicking his chair. "You're still simping over the first tool you laid your eyes on in freshman year."
"And he's still the most beautiful human I've ever seen," Hanta agreed. "At least I can talk to him without insulting him."
"Not when I knock your fuckin' teeth out," he growled. "Then you won't be able to talk at all."
"Violent," he said idly, completely unconcerned.
"You made him all cranky again," Mina pouted. "He looked like he was about to twirl his hair, and now he's grouchy. Dammit, Hanta!"
"My bad," he shrugged.
"You two suck ass," he told them. "Why the fuck do I let you in my booth?"
"It's...our show, too, dude."
"Bullshit," he scoffed. And that was true. He'd hooked them up with the jobs as co-hosts. Mostly so that Mina and Hanta could deal with people and he could just focus on the music. It didn't work well, since they constantly pissed him off and he'd bark at them mid-call.
They were waiting for Jirou and Yaomomo's show to finish—a study vibes music show that people could fall asleep in the library to. They had ten more minutes of potential relentless needling, and Katsuki was considering firing them both before they could press any harder.
He was like 95% sure that he had that power.
"Come oooooon," Mina whined. "We're your friends, Kats!" she pouted.
He sighed.
"We're working on a group project together," he grumbled. He felt the tips of his ears go hot, and he slouched his seat—hunching his shoulders in a weak attempt to hide them. It turned out to be a good move, since he needed to protect himself from Mina's ungodly squeal.
"THAT'S SO CUTE!!!" she screamed in their tiny, tiny booth. Her voice ricocheted off the walls and made his ears ring. "Are you gonna woo him? Are you gonna seduce him with your big, fat—"
"BRAIN!" Hanta yelled. "Your big, fat brain."
She scowled at him. "I was gonna say that!"
He couldn't tell if she was telling the truth, and he didn't care to look into it further.
"I'm not," he said, rolling his eyes. "I should get on speaking terms with him first, for fuck's sake."
"Hey, he's learning!" Hanta cheered. Katsuki kicked his ankle this time. Hard.
In fact, he kept kicking Hanta in the ankle every time the shithead opened his mouth, all the way through the start of their set.
"Heeey everyone," Mina crooned. "We're here to blow out your eardrums with the best noise on the charts!"
"And it's—OW dude, stop kicking me!"
"DJ Cellophane is currently in trouble with DJ Dynamight for poking the bear too many times, so you probably won't be hearing from him much tonight," she giggled. "But our fearless leader has a killer lineup for you tonight."
"We promise there's no Kelly Clarkson this time—OW!"
"Listen up, fuckers," he snarled into his mic. "You'll listen to what I play and you'll fuckin' like it. If you don't, keep that shit to yourself and invest in Sp0tify instead of wasting my time with your shitty opinions."
"If you're our boss, he's kidding," Mina added.
"No, I'm fuckin' not," he huffed. "Alright losers, gonna start with some old-school Paramore."
"Dude, no."
"Fuck you, it's rock and they kick ass—and I can dedicate it to gorgeous nerd who haunts my every waking hour with his soft smiles and huge—"
"BRAIN!" Hanta yelled again.
"I was gonna say heart, but whatever," he sneered.
"You two are gonna give me a heart attack, stop talking about people's girthy organs!" Hanta demanded.
"Well, I think that's the worst thing you could have said to discourage us," Mina cackled.
"He's talking shit because his organs are average at best," Katsuki scoffed.
"Bigger than yours, Blasty."
"God, shut up so I can start the song, asshole," he said, kicking Hanta in the ankle again. He ignored his hiss of pain and leaned into the mic, scowling.
"This is crushcrushcrush, which is exactly what I have on that adorable curly-haired, freckle faced dork. Fuck him and his heart of gold, I want him to have my babies."
He shut their mics down and slumped back into his seat, rubbing his hands over his face, visions of Deku's blinding smile dancing through his head like a conga line.
"God, he offered to change his work schedule to work with me," he finally told them. Mina fucking cooed, eyes all soft and gross.
"That's so sweet," she sighed. "He's gotta like you."
"Doubt it," he muttered. "I'm still an asshole and he's basically a fuckin' saint, but goddamn. Lil bitch sure knows how to make a guy hope."
"Maybe you should start with not calling him a 'lil bitch,'" Hanta suggested. Katsuki rolled his eyes.
He was working on it.
First, he had to not panic and lash out whenever Deku looked in his direction. It was a slow process. The song came to an end and Katsuki flicked his mic back on.
"That was our first song, crushcrushcrush, and it's setting the mood for the rest of the night—kick-ass songs that you shits will like that I'd also put on a mixtape for my dreamy little nerd if we didn't live in the digital age."
"You're such a fucking simp," Hanta crowed, risking another ankle kick. "Didn't you say he only listens to top-40 pop?"
Mina frowned. "Hey now—"
"He's worth simping for, no matter what he listens to," Katsuki said, completely unapologetic. "He could listen to the fuckin' Teletubbies theme song on repeat and he'd still be perfect."
"Whipped," Mina snickered. "Good lord."
"Now you're just repeating yourself," he huffed.
"I'd stop if you got less whipped!" she laughed. "But seriously, no shame if top-40 is your vibe—it's catchy for a reason!"
"Yeah, I just hate on them because they're loaded and Nick Jonas won't DM me back," Hanta agreed.
"Shut up, we're fucking working!"
"So you can talk about your pretty freckled starry-eyed nerd but I can't talk about Nick Jonas ignoring me?"
"At least I talk to my nerd!"
"Barely! And it's mostly in insults!"
"I don't insult him! Anymore, I mean—fuck you! Why are we talking about this! This is for music!"
"You start every song with a love declaration!"
"GREAT idea. Let's fuckin' do that," he sneered. "We're starting the next block with AC/DC, 'You Shook Me All Night Long.' Because...I want him to shake me all night long. If you didn't get that, there's no helping you."
Izuku gaped at his laptop—headphones in his ears with the campus radio's website pulled up on stream.
His heart raced, eyes bugging out of his skull. That was definitely Katsuki's voice. This was definitely his station.
Was...Kacchan talking about him?!