Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Todoroki Shouto is not scared. Maybe nervous, at the very least lacking the bare minimum of confidence required to hold a meeting with the top performing marketing generalist in the division. He’s only been working as the human resources representative for this division for about three months, which also summarizes all of his career experience after college thus far. Not that anyone else on the team seems remotely aware of his nervousness or inexperience. He thought his inexperience would be written all over his face but the rest of the division has seemed intimidated by him this entire time. Or at the very least uninterested in casual talk or any level of socializing with him so far, or maybe that’s what the title “human resources” does to your coworkers. Or his last name…

Focus, Shouto. This isn’t the time to worry about personal relationships with your coworkers, he takes a deep breath to calm his racing mind.

He’s suddenly aware of how barren his office looks, especially for a marketing agency office. This is the first time someone else will be visiting since Iida had stopped by on his first day. While his friend was always well-intentioned, Shouto harbored suspicions that it was more of a wellness check to ensure Shouto hadn’t disappeared on his first day. Understandable that his strongest reference would want him to display commitment to the company, especially given Tenya’s serious tendencies. He supposes he should add a little personalization to his office, if only to ease his friends worries if he stops by again. After all, while it feels like he’s a world away as a data analyst, he’s only a few floors above him right now.

Maybe a cat plushie would make the chair across from him more welcoming. It would certainly tip the scales from small, would be hall closet to a cozy space.

He's on his feet and crossing the room the instant he hears the sharp knock inflicted on his office door. With a quick swipe of his palms on his pants, he opens the door graciously with his best half-smile.

“Hello, Bakugou. I appreciate your promptness,” Shouto smoothly shakes his hand while the other man offers an annoyed grunt.

“It would be pretty embarrassing if I was late from down the hall,” Bakugou Katsuki eyes him a little warily.

Shouto tries to stifle his slightly amused reaction before it crosses his face, he can definitely imagine running late himself in that situation. Instead of offering clues to his own time management issues, he nods in agreement and moves to allow both of them to settle into his office. 

“Yes, well, I would like to start the conversation by assuring you that this is not a disciplinary meeting,” Shouto feels his natural expression settle after assuring that fact, or his natural lack of expression.

“Is that something you could even do on your own?” Bakugou’s tone is sarcastic, but Shouto can see his body language relax a fraction.

“Depending on the situation, I could,” Shouto finds himself defending his position. He chooses not to mention that the situation would need to be pretty extreme. This mans abrasive attitude is quickly unnerving for Shouto’s temper.

Bakugou has a glint in his eye as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. Shouto bristles in return, how does this man look so good in a suit yet so clearly, ridiculously unprofessional? Shouto was liking him less with every interaction— both professionally and personally.

“What I wanted to talk about is much more mild but still of concern,” Shouto holds his gaze to ensure some level of attention is given before continuing, “Do you know what’s essential to a safe and efficient work environment, Bakugou?”

“Tch - Probably more than you, Todoroki. I put in overtime nearly every week to keep my division going. Most of them couldn’t even wipe their own ass without me and we still outperform our competitors- you want it to be better than that?” Bakugou narrows his eyes, his tone barely staying below outright contempt. It was a much stronger reaction than what Shouto was expecting. While he had been on the defensive, it was still an open question intended as a conversation starter.

“I don’t appreciate your language or tone, which is exactly what we’re here to discuss. No one in the company is questioning the success of your division as a team or your effectiveness in your role,” Shouto’s voice is ice. Bakugou raises his eyebrows slightly, clearly not backing down.

“If you’re feeling overworked then that can be a separate conversation but right now I have a concern over how you conduct yourself with others, especially those under your management,” Shouto continues.

“All seems pretty connected to me -“ Bakugou stops himself with a huff, “Whatever, I don’t have a problem with how much I work. Are you saying there’s an issue with how I lead?” He’s clearly only compromising to cut to the point.

“I think it sounds like there is room for improvement. For example, it seems you rarely use your coworkers names. Going so far as to opt for blatant insults instead, do you think that is appropriate or encouraging to your team?” Shouto tries to soften his tone. Taking a breath and reminding himself that the goal is to help, not argue with an abrasive employee.

“You really think they care? Look, that might seem important in the big corporate marketing agency you’re used to but it doesn’t here,” Bakugou argued.

“I assure you, that’s not the issue. You can forget my last name when you enter this room if it’s going to matter more than my words,” Shouto unclenches his jaw and takes a breath. This is not how he should be handling the situation, he is certainly too old to let references of his father allow him to lose his temper. Especially a reference that was so laughably misguided.

Bakugou stares at him through his brows for a second before letting a small - laugh? - out under his breath and sitting up a little straighter.

“Fine, but my point still stands. Most of my division has been together since college, if not earlier. So, I can assure you that it’s not a problem,” Bakugou mocks, a small smirk crossing his lips.

“You’re not in college, this is a professional environment where everyone needs to feel safe and comfortable in order to do their jobs. This isn’t a personal disagreement, it’s a policy in place for a reason. How would you feel if one of your college friends actually disliked the nicknames at work?”

“First of all, they’re not nicknames-“

“So, they’re insults then?” The corners of Shouto’s mouth twitches into a fleeting, victorious smile.

Bakugou’s face reddens in response, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for an answer.

“I can use their damn names at work,” Bakugou sighs with his eyes tightly closed.

Shouto decides to allow his profanity in return, it would feel hypocritical to comment on it after winning an argument in such a childish manner. None of this should have escalated into an argument in the first place.

“Thank you, Bakugou,” Shouto slightly enjoys how Bakugou seems to bristle when he says his name now, “I really think that will help improve morale. Not everyone feels comfortable enough to communicate those issues directly.”

Bakugou huffs a little in response, glaring to communicate how much he doubts that.

“Is there anything else you think could help improve things for your team?” Shouto asks, genuinely intending to check in but Bakugou’s continuous glare brings tension into his tone regardless.

“Yeah, not from you. Are we done here?” Bakugou snaps, standing up before receiving a response.

“Yes, we’re done. Hopefully we can meet on better terms next time,” Shouto smiles tightly. He hopes they never need to meet alone in his office again, but he has a feeling that will be impossible.

Bakugou lets out a sound, something between a laugh and a grunt, before unceremoniously exiting.

Chapter Text

Everything feels smaller than college. His route to his office is short and the commute forgettable; there’s no roadmap between classes to memorize, no peer activities to distract him on his route, and no excusable way to get lost in the building. But the eyes feel the same.

Judgement and curiosity had bore into his back even on his first day of work, all likely based on assumptions caused by his last name. Shouto had nodded politely as he passed his new coworkers on his way to his desk. He felt like he should introduce himself, but it’s awkward to invite himself into their zone and interrupt their busy morning. Besides, none of them made a move to welcome him either. 

They probably don’t want to involve themselves with a Todoroki, much less make the first move, he faced forward with more determination.

Most people expect petty drama to end when they enter the workforce, left behind in college or even high school if they’re lucky. Shouto Todoroki is not that lucky.

Maybe it’s unfair to call himself unlucky. He could have chosen self-preservation over his own stubborn vendetta and entered an industry where Endeavor Advertising, or more specifically the shadow of his aggressively accomplished father, wouldn’t haunt his entire career.

Shouto sighed at his small “office” when he finally reached it. It’s… humble, to say the least. There’s barely enough room to fit his desk with an additional chair sitting across from him. It’s sure to be uncomfortable for anyone who needs to meet with him. Exactly the opposite of the message he would like to send. At least he was granted privacy, in exchange for a lack of windows or sunlight. 

He was finishing setting up his computer when a brisk knock interrupted him.

“C-come in,” Shouto’s shaky voice exposed his nerves at the thought of his first coworker. 

“Hello, Shouto. I thought I would come welcome you on your first day,” Iida Tenya gave a stiff wave from the doorway before squeezing himself into the extra chair.

“Hi Tenya, thank you for stopping by,” Shouto quirked his lips into a small, tense smile, “You’re actually the first person I’ve spoken to.”

Tenya’s polite smile froze a little, eyes squinting slightly as he calculated the situation.

“That’s a little… unexpected. How did you find your office then?” Tenya’s asked hesitantly, mindful of his words.

“I received an email yesterday with instructions and all of my onboarding paperwork, do you think I should find someone still?” Shouto found it a little strange, but he trusted his friends “corporate fluency” in this situation more than his formal degree.

“Hmm, no, I think it’s fine then. After all, this will be your area of expertise here eventually,” Tenya nodded thoughtfully.

“Right,” Shouto agreed, but his voice faltered with uncertainty.

“Did you introduce yourself to the team yet?”

Shouto shook his head slowly, betraying his nerves.

“Well, would you like me to introduce you? It’s not my department but I do know quite a few of them a little through a mutual friend,” his friend smiled encouragingly, clearly happy he’s found something he could assist with.

“Oh, thank you but it should be fine. I’m not sure having someone from a completely separate area introduce me would give the right impression,” Shouto declined politely, knowing Tenya can hear the unspoken truth beneath his reasoning. That having his reference from a higher floor who helped him get a job through his connections would only further confirm his privilege.

“Right, I understand. They’re a little bit of a tight knit group though so I recommend introducing yourself soon,” Tenya’s warm smile softened into something bordering sympathy.

“Thank you, I understand. I could tell they were close when I passed by this morning but I wasn’t sure…” Shouto let his voice trail off, leaving Tenya to guess the rest of his meaning. That he wasn’t sure if they were close to each other or just put off by his family name.

“I don’t think they care about those things, Shouto. This division specifically focuses on local businesses, there’s virtually no competition with Endeavor Advertising like the rest of the company,” Tenya reassured him. 

His friend is a pragmatic person, he wasn’t the type to understand that those judgements would extend beyond business relations; that people would judge him as a person for his father’s unfavorable business dealings as well.

~

He had been right, this room is too small for comfort during meetings like these.

His office feels emptier this morning. Yesterday, it had felt like the tension from his meeting with Bakugou was going to linger forever, it had continued to fill the small room until there was nowhere left to breathe, but it had dissipated overnight. Now the room was almost too empty. 

Luckily, Shouto came prepared to battle both the emptiness and the possibility of future tension. He props his calico weapon of war up on the chair across from his desk. Purrfect. His office was already several degrees more welcoming than before, the half-orange and half-black kitty face was the perfect addition to the drab closet he lives works in all day.

Maybe the cat would serve as a comfort to whoever has to sit there, as well as a reminder to himself of the environment he wants to create. An acceptable buffer to prevent a repeat of the events from yesterday. Shouto is less than pleased with how that “meeting” went, it feels like everything that could have went wrong was somehow worse than even his anxiety had anticipated. He never expected to have an argument with what appeared to be a lighter incarnation of his father’s business standards.

Shouto is directing his annoyance at the endless stream of emails that people have decided concern him when there’s a light knock at the door. Shouto opens the door to find the pink, bubbly digital strategist from the small business division he’s working with.

“Hello, Ashido,” Shouto hopes none of his surprise shows in his voice, a rather unlikely worry.

“Hi, Todoroki. Do you have a minute?” Ashido’s smile is big and bright, a distraction from the nervous fidgeting of her hands. 

Shouto squeezes himself back, motioning for her to come in and take a seat. She hesitates over the chair for a moment before settling down as Shouto joins her from his side of the desk.

Shouto hadn’t considered that people would need to hold the cat rather than sit with it somehow. He struggles to suppress a small smile, the stuffed cat was a little goofy looking like this. He feels like an amateur therapist.

“Ah, sorry about that. That’s a new addition actually, I was hoping it would make things a little warmer in here, I can place it elsewhere if you’d like” Shouto hopes his candor makes up for his flat tone. It’s a method he expects he’ll need to take advantage of in this position.

“No, it’s okay! It definitely works, I just wasn’t expecting it,” she reassures, her voice trailing off at the end.

He doesn’t need to consider for long why it might be so unexpected of him.

“How can I help you?” Shouto’s lips attempt a tight smile, letting his eyes briefly trail over the fluffy reminder that those assumptions don’t matter here.

“So, I wanted to explain a misunderstanding that I think happened with Bakugou,” Ashido’s hands are fidgeting with the stuffed cat now.

Shouto nods encouragingly, trying his best not to fold his mouth into a full frown at the reminder of yesterday’s incident.

“I never meant to complain about Bakugou’s, uh, nicknames. It’s really fine, it was more of a joke and I would really hate for him to get into any trouble for it. We’re all friends, that’s how we ended up in this division together in the first place, and I’m not sure that kind of restriction lets his brain work properly,” Ashido’s words are spilling out now, a hint of relief in her voice from simply admitting her worries out loud.

“I promise you, he didn’t get in any trouble. I won’t say more about our conversation than that since it’s private but it was intended as a casual conversation, off the record so to speak,” Shouto’s voice is brighter now, after having to stifle a small laugh from Ashido’s description of Bakugou’s impairment.

Ashido relaxes, relief written into her features as she lightly hugs the small stuffed cat instead of fiddling with it’s ears.

“That’s real? I thought that was just a thing in movies to trick people,” she quirks her eyebrows suspiciously, maybe a little playfully.

“Well, it can be. There’s limits, of course, but I would rather try to talk to people and help rather than ‘punish’ unwanted behavior,” Shouto lets his excitement take over, leaving out the fact that that’s no where near what happened yesterday.

“That’s good then, Bakugou probably wouldn’t survive otherwise,” Ashido laughs, completely loosening from her previous tension.

“Is that so?” Shouto raises his eyebrows, a faint smile playing on his lips. Petty curiosity playing a more powerful motivator than he’d like to admit.

“Oh, the amount of times yesterday he had to pause and breathe before saying our names was freaky. He was like a different person, I think that discomfort should count as a hostile work environment,” Ashido’s laughing again, her pink curls bouncing along with her. It’s impressive how quickly she switched from a nervous meeting with her HR representative to gossiping carelessly with a coworker.

“Was it that bad for just half a day?” He hadn’t quite realized how extensive the lack of using names was for Bakugou.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think he’s built to change his habits so quickly. I mean, it’s just unnatural for him. And the thing is, I would never admit it to his face, but if he breaks from something so small then we’ll all be pretty hopeless anyways,” Ashido discloses this information like a well-known secret, the stuffed cat now in a firm chokehold under an arm while she expresses with her hands.

“I see, well I’ll try to be patient with him then. I hadn’t realized he was so important for your operation,” Shouto tries his best to sound thoughtful, trying to cover the dry sarcasm that the thought of Bakugou brings out of him.

“Yeah, I mean we wouldn’t actually be hopeless but he’s kind of the loud, brash glue that keeps things together. If someone needs help then he’s done it before we can even ask. It’s his job to cover all of the bases as needed but he definitely takes it to another level, we couldn’t have half the clients we do without him,” Ashido explains with a hint of annoyance, she almost sounds like she wishes he was worse at his job.

Shouto wants to believe she’s trying to build Bakugou up to atone for her previous complaints in some way, but her genuine affection is difficult to doubt. That doesn’t exactly make Shouto’s job easier. It looks like he should be more prepared for a challenge.

“I suppose that explains how he gets away with it,” Shouto barely stops himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth as Ashido lets out a surprisingly loud laugh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-"

“You’re not wrong,” Ashido interrupts him, still laughing a little. She pauses, giving him a thoughtful, maybe even calculating, look.

“I’m glad to know you’ll be treating the office gremlin with some undeserved patience, Todoroki,” Ashido smiles, with a glint of mischief hiding in her features, getting up to leave his office. She set the stuffed cat back on the chair properly with a small head pat.

Shouto stares at the cat after she leaves, contemplating how it somehow looks a little softer than this morning. He would like to deny the fact that his impression of Bakugou might be a bit softer as well.

He’s even more sure in his gut that he’s not going to have an easy job here.

Chapter Text

Bakugou lets himself into Shouto’s office this time, only after forcing his door to suffer from his rough knock once again. It’s another one of his traits that bothers Shouto, there’s something irritating in the way Bakugou just insists on being louder than the rest of the room.

Shouto can’t help but notice his more relaxed appearance today, deep red sleeves rolled up to highlight his forearms. The button up suits him, letting the dark red of his eyes shine in the closeness of this room. Shouto suspects the color is intended as a warning of the fiery attitude radiating from this blond more than aesthetics.

“Hello, Bakugou,” Shouto attempts to let warmth into his tone but it’s dry even to his own ears.

“Is that a cat?” His bright eyes were incredulous now, eyebrows knitting together as if it was a real cat sitting in the office instead of a round pillow with ears.

“A stuffed one, yes,” Shouto answers, letting the indifference settle into his tone.

“F-Obviously- I can tell it’s not a real cat,” Bakugou’s face flushes light pink now, perfectly tying together his red theme for the day.

The embarrassment over the cat that he felt with Ashido is overwhelmed by stubbornness now. There’s a crack of tension in the room, a challenge between them, that Shouto will not be the first to break.

“Please take a seat,” Shouto motions to the cat chair.

Bakugou narrows his eyes at Shouto before awkwardly picking up the stuffed cat to sit down, holding the stuffed animal out to him across the desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry but there’s nowhere else for her to go.”

“The floor? Or are you a child?” Bakugou holds his ground with the stuffed cat hanging above the desk.

Bakugou is not going to dictate how his office is decorated, especially not with petty insults. Maybe he wouldn’t have such an issue with the stuffed animal if he had owned them growing up; he doesn’t seem like the type of person to have allowed softness in his life even as a child.

Not that my childhood was any better.

“The floor is dirty and the cat is meant to be welcoming, not childish,” Shouto explains flatly, folding his arms across his chest in a childish refusal of the orange and black offering.

“Sure, more of a wannabe therapist then,” Bakugou huffs, letting the cat sit to the side of his lap, awkwardly under one arm. A surprisingly fast surrender.

Shouto isn’t sure if he suppresses a smile from their terribly similar observation or from his equally terrible newfound amusement for pressing Bakugou’s buttons. Maybe both.

“Well, thank you for your punctuality again,” Shouto pauses for a response, observing the impatience etched into his features.

“It’s not like I want to be here,” Bakugou’s eyes burn into him, Shouto finds himself returning his stare with equal intensity.

A sharp smile flashes across Bakugou’s face, reminding Shouto of a predator more than a man. Shouto knows he needs to be the one to make the first move or he’ll lose all semblance of control in this room.

“The pens,” Shouto held him with his sharp gaze while the words settled.

“The pens?”

“Yes, the pens,” Shouto clears his throat, he isn’t sure why he’s dragging this out so immaturely.

“Is it true that you took all of the pens from Kaminari’s desk?” Shouto tries his best to leave his bewilderment out of his tone.

“Oh, for fu- really? Yeah, so what?” Bakugou’s frustration is astounding, as if this was a normal thing to do.

“Even though the supply closet is two feet away from his desk?” Shouto presses, unable to stop himself from exposing his judgement with raised eyebrows.

“I was in a rush,” he defends himself while he further straightens his posture with defiance.

The stuffed cat is now suffering a full, awkward chokehold.

“Why would you need an entire cups worth of pens in a rush?” 

“I needed to stock up,” Bakugou answer, it’s impressive how factually he justifies this ridiculousness.

“Then go to the supply closet two feet away.”

“The pens in the cup are already a good mix of what I want.”

“Because your coworker took time out of his day to organize his collection from the supply closet two feet away,” Shouto’s astonishment is clear now, his voice dripping judgement at the end.

“Dun-Kaminari,” he closes his eyes for a deep breath, “has plenty of time to organize them again instead of goofing off.”

Shouto levels him with his most pinning gaze, daring Bakugou to continue his ridiculous justifications, “Is that really an issue or just an excuse?” To avoid the supply closet two feet away.

Bakugou’s clenches his jaw, tension outlining his features before standing up and dropping the stuffed cat from her chokehold.

“Fine, I get it. We good now?” Bakugou is already out the door when Shouto says yes.

Shouto relaxes back in his seat, eyes resting on the slightly ruffled calico cat in the chair.

Shouto takes a deep, calming breath, “Hello, Baku-“

“What is it this time?” Bakugou forcefully sits down with an intensity that threatens the chair’s structural integrity. The chairs ability to survive is only rivaled by Bakugou’s ability to maintain such an abrasive aura while cuddling the calico stuffed cat.

Shouto briefly wonders if Bakugou’s ruffled, spiked hair is intentional or if his hair is battling his styling products in a natural rebellion against professionalism. The curls on the edges of his hair look too soft to be purposeful.

A piercing gaze stops his curiosity, flashing like a stop light.

“While you are the manager of your division, you can’t evict your coworkers,” Shouto deadpans.

It’s childish to describe each of these incidents in the most nondescript way, to take all of Bakugou’s ridiculous behavior at face value. But he can’t stop himself. Not when Bakugou bristles with such seriousness, as if these were normal problems for other working adults.

“Are those idiots-“ he pauses for a deep breath, an increasing occurrence, “Are they reporting everything to you now? This is a waste of time,” he crosses his arms, trapping the calico to his chest.

“You could save the time by not engaging in these antics,” Shouto’s voice is laced with humor.

“I would save time if no one sat near me,” the cat is choked a little tighter in Bakugou’s defiance.

“Would you like to discuss more acceptable ways to ask for space than leaving eviction notices taped to other peoples computers?”

This is his strategy to victory, treating these offenses seriously but balanced with the childish logic that Bakugou has earned. The stubborn man is cornered beyond real argument.

Bakugou huffs, defeat evident on his face. Shouto should not be thinking how much it looks like a pout, especially with the cat right below his chin. He definitely should not be thinking about how the stark contrast from his usual empty aggression is rather cute.

“What? You want me to send a passive aggressive email instead?”

“That’s certainly an option, minus the aggression. But isn’t there also a private office you could be using?” Shouto’s flat tone doesn’t quite hide his genuine curiosity.

Bakugou’s face clouds in guilt for a brief moment before being washed away in annoyance, “That office is just fine being empty.”

“But it is yours, right?” Shouto could taste the victory of catching this bizarre man admitting to… well, nothing in particular, anything would do.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be mine,” he eyes Shouto with skepticism, “but a private office seems a little isolating.”

Shouto feels frozen under his sharp gaze, for a brief moment he feels the exposure of having his walls crumbling down. For just a moment.

“I don’t think those idi-people would bother to tell me what I need to know if I was locked away like I’m better than them,” Bakugou corrects himself, barely stumbling over his humanization of his coworkers (friends?). A small improvement.

“Hm, it almost sounds like you choose to spend time with them,” the teasing lilt in Shouto’s voice is not missed.

Bakugou performs a very off-putting display of rolling his eyes in response, “Yeah yeah, I ask for it. Anything else?”

“That’s all, Bakugou,” Shouto dismisses him coolly.

Bakugou has reduced his entrances into his office to a singular, sharp knock before letting himself in. Shouto understands that their meetings have become routine and Bakugou is perfectly punctual so it’s no surprise, but still. Shouto finds his grip on his mouse tighter, his entire body tightens a fraction in response each time Bakugou enters the room. He just sits on the chair and stares. Expectantly.

Shouto continues responding to his worthless emails while Bakugou watches him. It’s not a difficult task to continue and it does nothing to improve his mood. It feels petty at this point, how many emails the other departments include him in. It could be a clerical error, his name existing where it shouldn’t be, but that wouldn’t explain how much administrative work is pushed on him from other departments as a result.

It isn’t surprising, these corporate assholes gave the “Todoroki” son a nice official title so they could push their intern level work on him.

“Did you just want company? Because I have way more important things to do than babysit you here,” Bakugou’s condescending tone doesn’t match his bored demeanor.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here. You were so quiet,” Shouto is confident his tone and expression don’t reveal the pettiness of his words.

Which will only bother Bakugou more.

Bakugou sharpens like a knife in response, “Right, I’ll just knock louder next time. Should I also announce the time when I come in?”

He smirks confidently, like he knows that what he said is exactly what would bother Shouto the most. Shouto hates that he’s learned that already.

“Hm, words would be an improvement. That’s how most people communicate after all,” it’s a small victory that Shouto can keep his voice so neutral.

He’s quickly rewarded with the sight of Bakugou immaturely throwing his head back in irritation. 

“Is that what this is about?” He keeps his head back on the chair, like a middle schooler whining in the principal’s office.

“You can’t just point to a sign that says “No” when people try to talk to you, Bakugou,” his voice sounds a little tired, a hint of the cycle they’ve thrown themselves into.

“It’s efficient,” Bakugou returns his stare now, matching Shouto’s tiredness with the stubbornness of a child who doesn’t want to lose a new toy.

“It’s un-"

“Unprofessional? Tch- why does that matter?” He interrupts Shouto with a steely tone.

“It’s a waste of time. Why should we pretend things are different than they are?” Bakugou presses with unexpected determination.

“It matters because that’s how you make sure people are treated fairly, you can’t just walk all over people at work because you’re their supervisor,” Shouto catches his voice rising in emotion against his will.

A hint of Bakugou’s predatory smile dances on his lips in response, it seems like he enjoys getting a rise out of Shouto.

“I’m not walking all over anyone. If these corporate assholes can’t tell the difference between this performative ‘professional’ bullshit and an actually shitty manager then that ain’t my problem,” Bakugou holds his ground, his body relaxed while everything in his face is begging Shouto to challenge him.

The tension in the air is tangible, there’s something different about Bakugou. It’s like a mask slipped off of him. There’s nothing pointless in his argument or an added layer of aggression, this is likely the most genuine Shouto has seen him.

He says “these corporate assholes” as if Shouto isn’t one of them, as if he wants Shouto to see him for who he is in this moment. He sees that but it doesn’t matter, Shouto is one of those “assholes”.

“If you ignore all protocol because you see it as performative then you’re going to make mistakes and step on people anyways,” Shouto rises with determination in response.

Bakugou starts to open his mouth to reply but Shouto continues, “If you don’t talk to your team to tell them why you don’t have time or it’s a no or whatever, then how will they know? How many times do you think it will take until they don’t communicate with you at all?”

Shouto expects an immediate rude response like ‘That’s the point’ but Bakugou looks thoughtful for a moment instead. His face is relaxed, vulnerable, while he considers the question. He sits up, taking his head off of his hand, signaling that he’s come to a decision.

“I doubt they would ever leave me alone,” Bakugou pauses to study Shouto for a moment before continuing, “But I get it, fine. I’ll take down the sign, but only because it makes sense to me.”

Shouto should feel accomplished, maybe even a greater sense of understanding toward Bakugou. His attitude about professionalism certainly has more depth now, but still. Still, something about Bakugou’s words, or maybe the way he says them, leaves Shouto with tension in response. It’s like Bakugou’s a splintered piece of wood that he can’t quite hold right, there’s no angle that saves him from stabbing or itching.

“I’m glad you understand,” Shouto concludes.

Ending their conversation how it started, he studies Shouto like a puzzle where he can’t quite put the final pieces together.

Shouto is still staring at the calico cat when Bakugou closes the door, left frozen in that moment of time where only his walls existed.

It becomes a sort of routine over the next few months. Shouto receives ‘anonymous’ notes on his desk or quick talks from Ashido with varying ‘complaints’ about Bakugou. There’s never anything serious, there’s nothing that’s legally amiss without a real formal complaint. It would all read like an office clown if he had never had a conversation with the “office gremlin” before. 

Shouto knows he should break the cycle at this point, it’s not as if he’s accomplishing anything meaningful with these meetings. The line between real complaints and jokes were originally blurred, but lately they’re too ridiculous to feign concern over.

However, Shouto isn’t ready for it to end. There’s something indescribable that he enjoys in their meetings, even if it amounts to just arguing in his cramped office. Maybe it’s just better than being alone all day.

“Hey, got a minute?” Bakugou lets himself in through the cracked office door.

“Of course, is something wrong?” Shouto hopes the surprise isn’t evident in his voice.

“No, it’s just-“ he pauses over the chair, “Do I have to sit with this moldy looking thing still?”

“She is not moldy, she’s nearly brand new,” Shouto’s more bewildered than offended.

“Yeah, she is,” Bakugou gazes past him in thought for a moment, “She’s like a moldy piece of bread.”

“Do you mean like a loaf?” Shouto deadpans.

“Whatever, either way it’s spotted with mold,” Bakugou dismisses him, sitting down with the stuffed cat anyways.

“I think she’s too orange to be bread,” Shouto hums thoughtfully.

“This isn’t that serious,” Bakugou’s irritation doesn’t reach his face as he taps his fingers on the armrest impatiently, “Fine, a moldy, rotting pumpkin then. Happy?”

“Did you come here just to insult my stuffed animal?” Shouto fights the small smile on his lips.

“What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”

“I’ll probably walk to the soba shop down the block,” Shouto swallows the defenses his mind prepares in advance.

“Alone?” Bakugou sounds surprisingly neutral, only curiosity bubbling right below the surface.

Shouto catches himself huffing in response, “Does that matter?”

Bakugou pins him with a thoughtful gaze, lips pressed together, before grunting and heading back to the door.

“We’re all going out for lunch tomorrow at 1, if you want to come,” he relays the offer like it was a pain to ask and leaves without waiting for a response.

Shouto’s only left with Pumpkin (the Cat) staring back at him, placed back in the chair a little too neatly for someone who called her “moldy”.

Chapter Text

The vending machine echoes through the break room. It’s 1:15.

There’s still time. Shouto could toss this tea into his office and meet the group for lunch a little late. 

He would surely look ridiculous though, jogging down the street just so he can catch up to these people who don’t even like him. It could even be seen as rude, arriving late and throwing off the routine with a late lunch order. Forcing everyone to either apologetically leave him alone to finish his lunch or straggle behind with him out of pity at the end.

It wouldn’t be much better to risk walking past them to get to a different restaurant, give everyone an opportunity to talk about how conceited he is for getting lunch somewhere else. 

He has paperwork due within grey areas of his jurisdiction to finish anyways, lunch at his desk would be better. Smarter. Safer. 

Microwave noodles and vending machine tea was an inescapable experience in a corporate office like this anyways.

The walk back to his office is slow, every muscle in his body feels like it’s being pulled both ways. His body is begging to run to lunch despite his excuses, to try to break this lonely cycle he’s found himself in. But, still.

It’s more than anxiety. It’s alarm bells sounding off in his chest that taking things outside of this grey building is dangerous. Something won’t be the same anymore.

“You’re late, asshole,” Bakugou’s irritated voice echoes across the hall before he even sees him. Risky.

“Why are you here?” Shouto asks icily, muscles now tense for an entirely new reason.

Bakugou’s eyebrows are knit together, his eyes instantly locking onto Shouto as he rounds the corner.

“Did you forget or do you actually prefer eating shitty food alone?” 

Shouto feels frozen under his judgmental glare. 

It’s more intense than when Bakugou's defending himself in his office- more personal. Shouto finds himself on the defensive as he clutches his styrofoam cup of noodles in guilt.

“Whatever,” Bakugou huffs, “I waited this long so you’re not slinking away into your office with that slop. Come on.”

“I have work to do still,” Shouto protectively holds his noodles closer to his chest.

He steps forward to reach his office door but Bakugou doesn’t even flinch. Despite being shorter than Shouto, his body insists on filling the space— the noodles cup feels like nothing between them. Suddenly it’s too close, even a risk to be caught in, but he refuses to back down.

“Oh, yeah?” Bakugou scoffs, unimpressed, “Stay late tonight then. Doubt you’re much good locked in your cell another hour.”

Shouto’s grip loosens on his cup, Bakugou isn’t exactly wrong. He’s going to be staying late tonight regardless of if he takes lunch- still, he doesn’t want this bulldozer in a suit deciding that for him. It’s difficult to argue, he can barely even think with this man mere inches away from him.

His cup of noodles is out of his grip before he can formulate a rebuttal.

“Oi, how are they cold already?” Bakugou reacts as if the cold noodles burned him somehow, “These are barely edible when they’re hot- disgusting,”

“I prefer them this way,” Shouto intends to sound indifferent, maybe even angry, but what escapes him is only a whine.

Bakugou’s eyes narrow on his tea with scrutiny, lips turning down with near equal disgust before stepping back into the hallway- letting Shouto breathe again.

“You can keep that,” he allows Shouto begrudgingly, “but this is going in the trash. Let’s go.”

Shouto’s lips part slightly as he searches for a suitable response before pressing together in defeat. He tosses his tea into his office before turning back to Bakugou, only to find him already down the hallway.

It’s a quiet hustle out of the building, Bakugou always staying a few steps ahead of him no matter how much he speeds up. An impressive feat against his longer legs.

“Why were you waiting for me? It’s not like I can’t walk there myself,” Shouto holds on to the last shreds of his hostility. Focusing on the image of his cold noodles down the sink.

“Yeah, sure seems like you could,” Bakugou mocks, eyeing him carefully for a moment.

Shouto says nothing, knowing in his gut that none of his reasons for skipping lunch were going to hold up against Bakugou’s criticism. Especially his anxiety.

“I didn’t even tell you where to go,” Bakugou continues, is that a hint of embarrassment in his voice?, “and you seem like the type to get lost anyways.”

Shouto hums in response, he’s not really sure how to feel. Bakugou isn’t exactly wrong and he’s even being nice, almost, but it’s still irritating.

It’s different seeing him outside, the way he stands out even walking down the sidewalk is.. different than the office. Just different.

Bakugou looks straight ahead as he walks, stepping forward without hesitation. People make room for him when they pass, they usually do the same for Shouto as well but it’s.. different for Bakugou.

It suddenly makes Shouto feel like a puppy, just trotting behind him like this. 

Shouto speeds up little by little, concentrating only on the gap maintained between them. Bakugou never looks back at him but he’s maintaining their distance regardless, it’s unnerving and incredibly frustrating. Shouto tries to use his height to his advantage— he knows he likely looks ridiculous as he practically does lunges behind Bakugou but it’s physically impossible for Bakugou to stay ahead of him like this. His face gives nothing away- as if this isn’t some ridiculous ego stunt.

He wonders if he could get Bakugou to run in his suit at this rate.

“Having fun, dickhead?” Bakugou shoots him a look over his shoulder, smirking without a hint of apology.

Oh, he’s not even pretending to be unaware. What’s wrong with this man?

“Fragile ego?” Shouto says coolly, careful to keep his breath even on this wretched trot. He doesn’t exercise as diligently as he used to, at least not as diligently as Bakugou clearly does.

“Hah! Hardly,” Bakugou nearly barks, something darker crossing his smile for a moment as he turns. Interesting.

(Not that Shouto’s interested.)

“I’m just leading the way. You’re the one pushing yourself to catch up right now, Todoroki,” Bakugou continues, challenge lacing his words more than any defense.

“I’m not pushing myself,” Shouto asserts, grateful his tone is as indifferent as ever.

“And besides,” Shouto continues before Bakugou can argue, “it’s normal to walk next to each other-"

“Luckily for you, we’re here,” Bakugou interrupts, he almost looks - triumphant - that he got to the restaurant fractions of a second before him. So childish.

Shouto’s silent in response, smoothing his clothes down as they walk in. It’s quite busy in here but their coworkers are definitely still the loudest. It looks like they shoved an extra chair to the table to fit everyone, with Kaminari ignoring the empty chair to stand behind the group and lean on the back of Sero’s chair.

“You guys look like assholes, you could’ve at least sat at different tables,” Bakugou loudly admonishes the group.

Bakugou is already across the room while Shouto hovers at the door, still feeling uninvited somehow. Sure, Bakugou nearly dragged him here but the most the rest of the group has ever given him are curious looks at best.

“What, are you too good to be seen with these assholes?” Bakugou scolds Shouto from across the room, taking Kaminari by the head and sitting him in a chair as he does so.

Shouto tries not to look at the rest of the room as he makes his way across it.

“Of course not, thank you for the invite,” Shouto responds politely, directing his response to the table.

He’s somewhat aware that he interrupted Kaminari giving excuses to Bakugou, something about half of them ordering to-go anyways, but the irritation on Bakugou’s face lets him know he’s probably doing Kaminari a favor.

“Nah, we’re glad you’re here, man,” Kirishima gives such a genuine smile, it’s hard to believe he was going to skip this.

Shouto gives a small smile in response, a little overwhelmed by the kindness in his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s too bad we don’t have enough chairs though,” Ashido interrupts cheerfully, “Maybe you two can get your own booth or something?”

Shouto doesn’t miss the daggers Bakugou shoots at her, or the drop in his own stomach in response.

“Oh, yeah? I thought half of you ordered to-go?” Bakugou counters, it’s impressive that Ashido doesn’t physically crumble under his glare.

“Are you just going to kick us out?” Jirou sounds bored, but her smirk is brave as she fiddles with her takeout box.

Bakugou continues to glare at Ashido, irritation radiating off of him as he chooses his words.

“Bakugou’s just embarrassed by how much he gets sent to HR,” Sero adds to the fire, armed with a smile to rival the Cheshire Cat.

Shouto feels like an audience member in this, he’d prefer not to sit alone with Bakugou but it’s hard to feel like he has an actual say in this conversation. There’s something being said underneath their words, leaving him an outsider to the dynamic.

“Aw come on, guys. Todoroki isn’t used to us yet so this isn’t very nice,” Kirishima defuses, smiling even as discomfort fills his voice.

“Fine, you’re right,” Ashido pouts in defeat before adding, “Sorry, Todoroki, it’s Bakugou we want to make sit somewhere else- not you.”

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Shouto can’t help the look he sends Bakugou.

Jirou, Sero, and Kaminari end up heading back to the office with their lunch. It sounds like they have some sort of deadline to meet in the creative realm— a little hypocritical of what Bakugou had to say about “cells” and “staying late instead” earlier, Shouto thinks bitterly.

It doesn’t take long for Shouto to get quietly lost in the buzz of their banter. Bakugou doesn’t initiate conversation any more than Shouto but it feels like he’s still so involved in all of it. The others are so skilled at teasing him into a response, Bakugou’s included whether he likes it or not. It seems his sharp edges are worn down at this table. 

Shouto is left sitting across from only Bakugou, an increasingly familiar sight, when their food arrives. It’s similar to what his anxiety predicted, straggling behind everyone else and barely engaging in any conversation after being so late. There’s only one difference.

“Why are you looking at me instead of eating?” Bakugou nearly growls. Ah, his sharp edges have returned.

Shouto raises his eyebrows slightly as he eats, Bakugou has been oddly fixated on Shouto’s lunch. It might not have been noticeable on someone else but everything about Bakugou so far is a little different. He seems to have such a low baseline of interest in other people, it’s unusual he would ask any questions at all— much less about what Shouto was going to eat.

“Your preoccupation with my food is weirder than my eye contact,” Shouto counters.

“I don’t care about what you eat- or don’t eat,” Bakugou stabs his food as he adds the last part. He’s noticeably refined with how he eats, like he insists on eating his food in the correct way, so it looks rather forced as he stabs his chopsticks.

Shouto barely stops himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of it, Bakugou is so transparent— it’s difficult to believe he’s actually trying to hide something.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll say something warranting a real HR complaint,” Shouto lightly threatens, allowing himself a small smirk as he leans back in his chair.

At least he’s learned it only takes the smallest spark for this man to explode.

Shouto’s expecting anger, at the very least irritation at the threat, but instead Bakugou smiles. It’s quick- shorter and softer than any of the other smiles Shouto has seen cross his face.

“You seem like the type to get scurvy,” Bakugou deadpans, so serious in the way he locks Shouto in his stare.

Shouto can’t suppress the incredulousness that takes over his face, this is the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. 

“I seem like a pirate from a different century to you?” Shouto questions, attempting to return to a serious composure— as if this was as real as the possibility of scurvy.

“If they were eating fuckin’ soba everyday, yeah,” Bakugou continues to eye him as if he’s the one being ridiculous.

“I- I don’t eat it everyday. Besides, soba has plenty of nutrients,” Shouto defends himself, disappointed to find himself stuttering under Bakugou’s accusation. 

Bakugou is more like a concerned, angry grandmother right now than his inhumanly illogical, angry coworker.

They eat in silence after that, not entirely uncomfortable but certainly rushing to end it. Bakugou’s already out of his seat when Shouto takes his last bite, probably trying to get a few steps ahead already.

Chapter Text

Shouto’s desk drawer rattles as he tosses another empty can of tea into the pile. It vaguely reminds him of all of the ways he used to hide things in every corner as a child. It’s not the most responsible set up, but it’s somehow less embarrassing than bringing the tea out of his office.

Every other morning or so for the past couple of weeks, there’s been a tea on his desk when he comes in. The exact melon flavored bubble tea that he gets from the vending machine.

At first he had thought it might be Tenya; it would have been unusual for him to not leave a note of some kind but the thoughtfulness would be on brand. However, Tenya had denied it when he thanked him. 

Which leaves him stuck in a loop. It only makes sense that it’s one of his coworkers, but he tends to avoid the break room when it’s busy. The only person who’s seen the specific tea he gets is Bakugou.

It doesn’t make any sense. He only saw the tea one time. And it seems incredibly out of character for him to be gifting things like this. 

Shouto should theoretically thank him, but how? It would be impossible to live down if he’s wrong about it, and still leave him completely lost if he’s correct and it is Bakugou.

So now Shouto is left with a drawer of piling tea cans.

Shouto is setting up the conference room for today. It’s still a small room but there’s more availability to share a workspace without as much hierarchy here. It should help.

He’s optimistic for this meeting. He’s trying to venture into the ‘professional development’ side of HR and give their division some additional resources and guidance. He had been nervous when he first reached out to Bakugou —he expected a corporate version of ‘fuck off’— but he had agreed to have the meeting.

Shouto had let himself into the conference room a little early -partially to avoid running late- and now all of the paperwork he has collected is lined up a little too perfectly.

When there’s a rap on the door, Shouto is quick to open it. Bakugou nearly walks into him when the door opens, surprise evident on his face. Right, this isn’t his office. That was just a warning knock as Bakugou opened the door.

Shouto freezes, it’s the closest he’s been to Bakugou before. It’s the closest he’s stood to anyone for some time, leaving him unsure of what to do. The lack of space allows his cartoonish coworker to appear so human— soft lines in his skin where his anger would normally be apparent, a softness to his spiky hair, and flecks in his bright eyes.

“Alright, I’m not supposed to shove HR so move it,” Bakugou threatens.

“You’re not allowed to shove anyone,” Shouto reminds him as he steps aside.

Bakugou shoots him a wicked smile as he sits down— no, maybe that’s amusement? It’s surprising, but he seems to find Shouto’s HR jokes entertaining. 

Shouto sits down as well, careful to pull his chair further from Bakugou to give them more personal space.

The rest of the meeting starts smoothly enough, Bakugou has a deep well of ideas for improvements for everyone on his team. It’s endearing, despite his harsh exterior, Bakugou clearly puts a lot of thought into how to help his coworkers. There’s a lot more care happening beneath the surface than he thought, not the competitive evil that Shouto has grown to expect in this business. 

He’s happier than Shouto’s ever seen him as well. There’s a new light in his eyes as he talks about how much potential his friends have if they were given more room to grow. His smile is soft when he talks about how the entire group could easily be the best in the business together if they were given the right tools. He doesn’t just want to win for himself, he truly wants to lift everyone else along with him.

The conference room was the right call, it didn’t take long for their combined papers to spread across the entire table. In their excitement, they’ve moved almost as close together as they were at the door. Bakugou’s hand even brushes against his own as he reaches across the table, leaving Shouto blushing like an embarrassed teenager. It goes unnoticed by Bakugou, who has continuously pressed his chair closer as he becomes more lost in his focus.

It’s distracting.

Bakugou is talking about which programs for digital outreach would be most beneficial for Ashido and Shouto is lost in his goddamn eyes.

What the hell are in those teas?

They’re no closer than Shouto would sit next to any of his friends, but it feels like they’re breathing the same air. Why is everything about this man so aggravating? Why can’t it ever be normal?

Shouto takes a deep breath, pulling up the information for the best program on his laptop. Before Shouto can slide his laptop down the table to show him, Bakugou has already rolled his chair right next to Shouto to see for himself.

Their arms are nearly brushing as Bakugou scrolls down the website on his own. They’re too close, Shouto is very sure that he can already feel the fabric of Bakugou’s pants touching his own. Bakugou is completely unaffected by this closeness, his eyebrows knitted in concentration as he reads on Shouto’s laptop.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Bakugou doesn’t know the definition of personal space but it should not be affecting Shouto like this. He should be the last person to be so distracted by his mere proximity. 

Shouto isn’t sure which explanation for his distraction is more mortifying— that he’s either absolutely awful at HR or that he’s so starved for connection. Or maybe he’s just losing his mind.

When Bakugou turns to relay his opinions to Shouto, he can see flecks of brown in his dark eyes. It almost forms a ring in the middle, balancing out the brightness of his unusual red into something softer.

No, he is not romanticizing the red of this mans eyes. Surely the crimson is a sign of chronic conjunctivitis or a stop sign; not a reflection of the fire burning in his core by being near him.

As Shouto answers Bakugou’s question, he catches Bakugou flexing his hands against his pants before shifting his chair a little further away.

Good. Some self awareness.

Shouto tries to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest in response as he continues talking. It’s a mild relief that he’s not the only one effected by their closeness. Although it could also be a bad thing, he shouldn’t want his coworkers to be nervous when they’re alone with him. Wait- what did all of those sexual harassment videos show? Almost this exact same situation— he’s one wrong move away from committing quid pro quo harassment in his sudden nervousness.

“O-okay, well I’ll let you know when Ashido and Kaminari can enroll in the program,” Shouto announces, gathering his papers rather abruptly before adding, “In an email.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Bakugou coughs, scooping up his paperwork quickly.

Shouto doesn’t look up from organizing the table to see Bakugou leave.

Chapter Text

The teas continue to appear on his desk, a confusing remnant of the casual friendliness that he had built with Bakugou that’s begun to crumble away.

It’s not as if they had been making small talk at the water cooler, but the occasional acknowledgement of each others existence had been nice. It had been something.

Although, it’s not completely one-sided, Shouto’s in no rush to put himself in the same predicament with Bakugou again.

It’s a relief to be out with someone who has nothing to do with work, even if work remains their main topic.

“If you don’t open up on your own, then I’ll have to leverage my intel against you,” Momo teases him, smiling as she sips her drink.

It’s much lighter than how Shouto has grown to expect her to act. Yaoyorozu Momo has definitely relaxed since he’d seen her last, at least for the weekend— even letting her signature tight ponytail down for the night.

“There’s really nothing interesting or even notable. they have me trapped in a closet most of the time. I’m making some progress though,” Shouto updates her. 

It’s hard to resist complaining about his tiny office, but other than that… it’s best if he just forgets about work.

“Aw, Shouto,” Momo pats him on the shoulder, trying to decide on the best approach forward.

“Really, it’s not that bad. It’s good mainly,” Shouto reassures her, trailing off at the end.

It’s hard not to spill everything to Momo, it’s been so long since he’s seen someone he can relax with like this. She’s always had such a warm energy, even when he was an arrogant disaster his freshman year.

Out of all of his friends, Momo and Izuku are the ones he can be the most unapologetically himself around.

But this many drinks in… rambling about his gremlin of a coworker that he nearly sexually harassed wouldn’t be a good look. Definitely not in public.

Momo gives him a sympathetic look before ordering another round of drinks for the both of them. 

“Usually people drink more during college and then slow down when they enter the workforce, but you seem to be doing it backwards,” Shouto points out curiously.

“With how much overtime they give me, I think it evens out,” she laughs nervously, “It’s basically in the job description for a lawyer anyway.”

Shouto just listens quietly, knowing that she’ll continue if she has more to share. 

Momo sips the last of her drink that’s mixed with melted ice before continuing, “Or more accurately, I think it’s time to enjoy more. I worked so hard in college just to work even harder in my career. It’s worth it, I truly enjoy my job, but if I don’t have a bit of fun now then when will I?”

“That’s rather… pragmatic,” Shouto can’t help but laugh at his friend’s logic.

It seems like mostly fine rationale, especially for someone as levelheaded as her, and it’s not like she’s drinking excessively. But it’s still strange. Maybe starting a career produces difficulties for everyone, even if their plan goes perfectly. Still, he’d be a pretty bad friend not to inspect the red flag.

“I assume you have other ways of relaxing as well?” Shouto inquires.

“Of course! I’ve also started rock climbing in my free time,” Momo laughs nervously again.

Shouto can only stare at the stranger across from him. It seems that stress from work can create a new person entirely.

Momo is already giving a few too many explanations for the new hobby but it’s unnecessary. Shouto can’t help but think it’s a good thing. She seems happy and apparently everyone needs to take some risks now and again.

“Shouto!”

The excited voice of his friend reaches Shouto before he mutters apologies to those around him for the disruption. It’s impossible not to smile back at Izuku’s beaming face as he makes his way across the room.

“And Yaomomo!”

It feels like a blur as Izuku hugs both of them, it’s been so long since he’s been able to see both of his best friends at once. It’s another downside to falling behind when he switched majors in university. That one year left behind really managed to make him feel so out of step with his friends.

On the bright side, maybe he’s only one year away from partying and rock climbing.

“I’m here with another group, but you two can definitely join us. Well, if you want to, I get it if you don’t want to join a group of new people. They are a little rowdy but they’re really nice so-" Izuku offers, then rambles.

“I’m sure they’re great, Izuku. I’m happy to join so long as it’s okay with Shouto,” Momo reassures their friend with a warm smile.

Shouto nods his agreement to both of them. It would’ve been nice to see just the two of them, but new friends couldn’t hurt. Momo’s certainly started them off with enough alcohol to help him be sociable. Maybe.

Still, it’s more than he could’ve asked for to spend the night with two of his best friends in the world. It fills him with a deep happiness that’s unmatched— until he sees the spiky blond hair of his crush right behind Izuku. Wait, crush? Bakugou is not his crush.

He’s his coworker. Of course he doesn’t want to see his coworker on the weekend.

Shouto quickly ducks his head down, out of sight and low to the table, a ridiculous and sloppy movement earning Momo’s confusion. 

Here are the downsides to Momo’s new perspective on alcohol- clumsy movements and sloppy thinking.

Luckily, Izuku is too enamored with his rambling to notice, but Shouto wishes he had a trick to cool the blush off of his cheeks. 

God, he’s even embarrassing himself in his own head. He does not have a crush.

There’s a hundred other reasons to be nervous around Bakugou and especially to never want to see him outside-

“Oi, what are you doing? Kirishima-" the familiar irritated voice stops when his eyes land on Shouto.

The surprise is clear on Bakugou’s face, before his lips twitch upward subtly.

All of these emotions are happening beneath an indescribable layer of anger that seems to be Bakugou’s signature aura everywhere he goes.

The lip twitch that could almost be compared to a smile is enough to make Shouto remember that he’s currently hunched into the table like an ostrich without access to sand.

“Oh, I’m sorry I should’ve invited you over with me, Kacchan,” Izuku apologizes.

Kacchan?

“Why would you need to do that, nerd? It’s not me who’s looking for you anyways. It’s not like I’m the one who invited-"

Their bickering is interrupted by a familiar ball of pink curls popping up between the two of them, a hand placed on both of their shoulders.

“Ooh, Todoroki’s here! You should come join us,” Ashido enthuses, masterfully ignoring the terrifying glare directed by Bakugou.

Ashido is already explaining their connection to the surprised Izuku and Momo, leaving him with nothing to do except burn beneath Bakugou’s glare- which is now aimed directly at him. He can barely hear the rest of the conversation as they set things up with the server— does Bakugou actually hate him? And why does it sound like he’s closer to his own best friend than him? The new and life altering information is difficult to process- Bakugou is Kacchan.

An enigma from Izuku’s childhood stories that has left Shouto confused with Izuku’s concept of friendship for years.

Sadly, it’s all starting to make sense. This prickly, brash asshole is strangely difficult to hate. There’s something admirable beneath it all, even to Shouto. It’s not difficult to imagine how Izuku’s endless well of patience and kindness led to such a strange, yet strong, friendship between them.

Even worse, Shouto might not have any escape from Kacchan ever. His coworker, Bakugou, left him many escape routes if he wanted it. But his best friend’s childhood friend is much less simple to avoid.

It would be a comfortable quiet on his part, listening to his friends catch up and chipping in when necessary— if he didn’t feel Bakugou’s eyes burning into him the entire time.

Shouto’s sitting toward the end of the table, next to Izuku and across from Momo, with Kirishima, Ashido, Kaminari, and Bakugou siting further away. 

Bakugou is sitting as far away as possible across the table, but still perfectly in sight.

It’s torturous really.

This should be a good thing, making friends with his coworkers. Small world and everything.

Yet Shouto barely registers Ashido inviting Midoriya and Kaminari to go pick music out together before he’s left alone. Well, almost alone. Momo and Kirishima are engaged in conversation across from him that he doesn’t quite have the capacity to insert himself into.

And Bakugou…

He isn’t looking at Bakugou.

Instead, he fixates on his drink and the array of food at the table. It’s a good balance, surprisingly more responsible than he and Momo had been on their own. The buzz of the room around him is enough to drown out the rest.

Pretend that there’s no chance that any of the clinking silverware, glasses scraping the table, or chairs brushing the floor could be made by Bakugou. At least it’s certain that no one else’s laughter could be his, any sound that came out of his foul mouth would surely fill the entire room. And it’s more likely to be a sound of an angrier variety. The mans determination to be as abrasive as possible is ridiculous. Asinine. Fake.

No, not fake. But still like a mask.

No, that’s not right. It’s definitely who he is.

Distinctly purposeful. That’s it.

Or maybe not. Who is he to try to understand him?

The last sounds of chairs moving and steps with too much thumping are definitely Bakugou. The shadow of his coworker that he should not be near right now is heavy as he sits down in the empty chair next to him.

“Hey,” Bakugou’s voice is sharp, demanding to be heard.

Shouto keeps his eyes on the drink in front of him, still feeling unsure how much he should acknowledge Bakugou’s presence.

“Why did you hide? When you were talking with Deku,” he asks, there’s something beneath the irritation that Shouto hasn’t heard before.

Deku? That must mean Izuku. Great, they both have nicknames for each other.

“I didn’t hide from anyone,” Shouto answers passively.

“Really? So, you usually hang out with your head pressed to the table like a dumbass?” Bakugou scoffs.

Ah, that’s what it is. He sounds unsure of himself. Maybe even nervous. If that’s an emotion that’s possible for Bakugou Katsuki.

“The table’s quite cool against your cheek,” Shouto presents the only defense that comes to mind.

“You’re an idiot,” he insults him, but there’s no malice behind the words.

Maybe he’s imagining things, or even worse hoping for it, but there’s seems to be a bit of fondness behind the words. 

Shouto forces himself to look away from the table and face Bakugou for the first time since he had his head on the table earlier. His spiky hair still looks ridiculous, even with his casual clothes. His hair seems to stick out with such determination that it convinces Shouto that it must be more natural than gelled. He is once again tempted to test it.

Making himself look away from Bakugou’s distracting hair is a mistake. 

Eye contact with him is how a rat must feel looking into a snakes eyes.

“You’re really rude,” is all that he can say.

Bakugou’s smile is prideful, he’s definitely not ashamed of how abrasive he is.

“Yeah, well we’re not at work so you can’t say jack shit,” Bakugou sounds pleased with himself. 

He wants to disagree, he has as much right to complain as Bakugou has the right to be an asshole after all, but all he hears is: we’re not at work.

It’s all that he’s thought about since seeing Bakugou tonight.

There’s more space between them at this table than any of the times that Shouto felt so wrong at work. He knows that, but they still seem so much closer. Everything between them feels condensed by the lack of rules and restrictions.

There’s no rules here dictating how they act or how they feel.

It would be so different if their arms brushed here instead, if their thighs pressed together from their chairs. It wouldn’t immediately be wrong. Perhaps that would remove the temptations altogether.

Not that he was tempted.

“Why don’t you work at your father’s office?”

Bakugou’s question slams shut the doors of possibilities playing through his mind.

Of course, the rules exist for them everywhere. The restrictions of his career will follow him everywhere, just like his last name. 

“Because he’s an asshole,” Shouto answers with more anger and honesty than even he expected of himself.

It’s impossible to ignore the resentment being pushed to the surface when he’s just trying to enjoy himself.

He expects Bakugou to laugh or taunt him even, the humor of the childish answer coming from who’s likely the most privileged person in the room doesn’t escape him.

Instead, Bakugou just nods.

“So, why HR? You’re in marketing anyways, wouldn’t it piss that asshole off more if you outperformed him in his own game,” Bakugou asks.

He’s quick to suggest a method for vengeance without needing any further context. Lovely.

“I’m not trying to compete with my father,” Shouto can feel how obvious the lie is as it leaves his lips, “I want to help people, be part of a better work environment than what his firm is.”

The words still feel a little untrue after being spoken aloud. It’s not wrong, he does want those things. But is that why he’s in marketing? Isn’t that still competing?

“Marketing is all I really know,” Shouto adds unbidden, the depth of the truth is more than he could, or should, ever say.

Maybe it’s another side effect of the alcohol, or a result of feeling like he’s come so far only to feel like the same person he’s always been tonight. No matter the cause, memories of his childhood pass through his mind. Being raised to be the advertisement- until his face was scarred. It wasn’t until he was older that his father decided the scar was definitely too ugly for anything important, that Shouto needed to learn everything about running his business instead. That Shouto needs to learn to be the best. He needs to be clever. He needs to be cutthroat. It’s his duty to take over someday.

“You could do a hell of a lot of good in whatever industry you wanted,” Bakugou tells him like it’s nothing. 

No, not nothing. It’s kinder than the Bakugou he usually knows.

“Are you implying you’d like me to leave?” Shouto pokes, unable to resist.

It’s easier to escape the memories that just trapped him by pressing his buttons rather than further opening up.

“Fuck, you’re difficult,” Bakugou groans, “It’s just a damn compliment.”

The reassurance makes him smile. Despite the endless difficulties of talking to Bakugou, it’s reassuring that he can trust his words. He will always say what he thinks instead of what people want to hear.

“What should I do then?” Shouto wonders, asking himself as much as Bakugou.

It’s a question that’s never stopped looming over him. 

“What the hell kind of question is that? Whatever you want, why the fuck should I know,” Bakugou sounds like his normal angry self again, pointedly looking away from him.

Shouto knows he’s right, why should he be asking Bakugou of all people. But he can’t help but feel dejected, even a little sad. The frown he can feel crossing his face is probably closer to a pout, Izuku would always describe it that way in college anyways.

“Look, you can’t spend your entire life competing to prove some asshole wrong,” Bakugou continues, still avoiding eye contact with Shouto, “It’s just a job, not your entire life.”
Bakugou adds the last part like it’s obvious before finishing his drink— small talk meant to drag them out of the hole that Shouto’s dug.

He can’t help but smile at Bakugou. The person who’s filled his past four months with petty arguments and debate is now scrambling so hard to reassure him.

He nearly laughs when Bakugou begins to choke on his drink, quite possibly a result of seeing him smile.

Before he can ask if Bakugou is okay, Izuku is back at their table.

“Why are you so red, Kacchan? Are you okay?” Izuku asks with concern.

“None of your business-“

“He was just choking on his drink,” Shouto accidentally cuts him off.

“Right,” Izuku sounds unsure. 

The smile Izuku gives Bakugou is enough to shoo him back to his own seat without another look at either of them.

Shouto finds his cocktail suspiciously replaced with water.