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If someone asked what Katsuki was doing here, here, at Shinsou, Hitoshi Shinsou’s door at 3 in the morning, they would probably sustain some serious bodily injuries. Katsuki would struggle to answer, of course, but he knows. He knows that he is exhausted, and afraid, and that the stress is getting to him. He knows Shinsou is the only one of his classmates that’s awake right now.
Katsuki doesn’t like Shinsou. He is rude, snide, unpleasant. He clearly doesn’t take care of himself, which is a cardinal sin for heroes who have to always be their best. This, Katsuki also knows. Their interactions are limited, a mutual understanding that the two would not work well together, let alone be friends. But here he is, desperate, and after a long moment of shuffling from bare foot to foot, he knocks on the door three times, firmly.
Katsuki bites his lip. He waits. He turns to leave, just shy of relieved.
“ What? ” scowls a voice behind Katsuki, causing him to jump in his skin. Katsuki swivels to see the door cracked open, a disheveled Shinsou trying and failing to keep his face neutral. But Katsuki, nervous, vigilant, of course notices Shinsou’s eyes slightly widened. “Bakugo. What?”.
A beat. Katsuki questions his life’s decisions. “Let me in,” he glares. He wants to say more, to justify himself, but his tongue sits thick in his mouth. Shinsou’s eyes linger, suspicious, mouth slightly agape. Katsuki squares his shoulders. Again, “Let me in”.
Shinsou blinks before stepping back from the doorway, gesturing vaguely towards the bed. Katsuki notes the room is surprisingly sparse—a pale gray duvet, some papers scattered on the desk, piles of laundry (dirty, Katsuki is sure). A single purple lamp sits by the window, shades open to the night sky.
Because he is not a coward, Katsuki strides in and drops unceremoniously onto the bed, back against the wall and calves lying half off the side. Shinsou hesitates before sitting beside him, a few tense inches between their shoulders. Neither speaks for a moment, and Katsuki knows he regrets his life decisions.
Passive as ever, Shinsou turns his gaze, “Dude, are you okay?”.
Quickly, “Can’t sleep”.
This seems to click with Shinsou, and he lies his head back against the wall, exhaling a soft laugh through his nose. “Welcome to the club”.
The two shift easily into silence, and while it wouldn’t be accurate to name the quiet as comfortable, Katsuki can’t help but appreciate having a body beside him. Even if that body is someone he decidedly does not like. He has an underlying sense that this is dumb. Dumb and deeply embarrassing. He hates to be seen in this light, and his every instinct tells him to leave, to suffer alone instead. But after so many nights of sweating through his sheets, waking up gasping, images flashing, skin burning, unable to breathe… He decides to stay. He decides it's okay. He’s not a bitch. Katsuki Bakugo can sit on this dumb freaking bed and not feel like he’s dying, just for a few minutes at least.
Shinsou’s hands are wringing together, his right foot rubbing at his left ankle. Katsuki keeps his eyes on Shinsou’s shuffling feet, finding the movement surprisingly meditative.
Katsuki doesn’t move his gaze when he asks, too quietly, “Why don’t you sleep?”.
“Huh?” Shinsou’s feet keep moving.
Katsuki finds a surge of frustrated energy, remembering who he is speaking to, “Everyone knows you’re up practically all hours, which is fucking dumb if you’re trying to become a hero, so you must not be doing it on purpose”. He pauses and lifts his eyes to the other boy’s, “Or you're an idiot”.
Shinsou blinks at what could almost be a compliment coming from Katsuki, who, at the lack of response, promptly hunches into himself and looks away. Shinsou sighs, “Insomnia, I guess. Nightmares sometimes. Mostly insomnia”. Katsuki can’t help but whip his head around, once again meeting their gazes. Shinsou’s face is hard to read, but Katsuki notes his slightly furrowed eyebrows, the soft downturn of his lips.
“I guess every kid in this goddamn class is fucked up in the head,” Katsuki balks. Shinsou huffs out a soft laugh, genuine, which the blond finds disarming enough to press.
“What do you do?”
“What do I do?”
“Like, about the nightmares,” Katsuki clarifies. Shinsou just stares, mouth once again falling just slightly agape. Katsuki thinks that this keeps happening, since when does he make people stare, is he being so weird? He shifts, with a half-assed glare, “What, fuckhead?”
Shinsou smirks just a little bit, again huffing out of his nose, “I can’t believe you actually showed up at my door at 3am, to look for advice , about bad dreams ”. He laughs, low, quiet, mostly breath. And that’s too much for Katsuki. Shinsou, Shinsou is judging him. Katsuki wipes his palms on his thighs, his mouth getting sticky. What is he doing? Why is he here?
And before he can panic, he musters a glare and kicks up off the bed. “Fuck off,” he spits, but before he can take a step, he feels cool spindly fingers wrap around his wrist. If his mind didn’t cut entirely blank, Katsuki could almost admire Shinsou’s bravery, damn, he’s got balls. Katsuki doesn’t turn, but he doesn’t tug away either, to both boys’ surprise.
“No, wait, I'm sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I'm just a bit out of my element.” If Shinsou’s tone wasn’t so casual, Katsuki would almost think that was a plea. But that would be ridiculous. He turns half around. Shinsou’s eyes are on his wrist, expressionless except for his lips pressed together, considering. But before Katsuki can react, Shinsou’s eyes fly wide. Shinsou quickly pulls his hand into his lap.
This silence is decidedly awkward. Terribly awkward. Katsuki’s heart is pounding, he notices, but he can’t move. He needs to leave. He should leave. If he just took three steps towards the door, he could leave, and they would never discuss this again. He stares at Shinsou’s hands.
He almost misses Shinsou’s voice over the blood rushing in his ears. Softly, “Music”. Katsuki looks up. Again, with slightly more force, “Music, sometimes. Weed too. Distractions”. And Katsuki can’t help but raise an eyebrow in question. “You asked how I cope, with nightmares and stuff”.
All Katsuki can bring himself to say is a weak, “ Oh ”.
Shinsou speaks again, “We could smoke a joint if you want? Sero has surprisingly good—”.
“I don’t do that shit. I actually care about my lungs unlike you and Soy Sauce,” Katsuki scoffs, remembering why he hates this guy. This is wrong. This is frustrating. He isn’t going to start self-medicating just because he’s too weak and messed up to get a decent night’s sleep. He glares at the ground.
Shinsou hums lightly and turns to look out the window. There aren’t many stars out, but the street lights illuminate the sharp turn of his nose just so slightly. “Music, then?” he suggests.
With this, Katsuki makes his way back to his spot on the bed, huffs and crosses his arms, looking away. Shinsou laughs lightly. “Dude, sorry I'm not better at this. You should’ve gone to Mina or Kirishima. Kirishima, probably. Seems like he’s the only person here who’s on your wavelength..” He opens the laptop at his desk and taps around. “I’m assuming you want Skrillex, or you’d prefer thrash metal?”
“Fuck you. You're a dick”. Katsuki can’t help but linger on Shinsou’s smug smile. “I couldn’t wake Kirishima up. He needs the sleep with how hard he pushes himself”.
Shinsou spins around, grin widening, laptop forgotten, “Aw, almost sounds like you care about him.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Katsuki snaps and looks away, face in his shoulder. He feels the tips of his ears growing warm. He wants to die. Now. He can feel Shinsou’s horrible, evil face next to him.
Shinsou cheers, “Holy shit! You actually like him!”. Katsuki’s heart plummets into his gut while he launches up onto his knees, towering over Shinsou as intimidating as possible while on a twin bed.
“You better shut the fuck up before I blast your face off, fuckass. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he screeches, face flushed.
Shinsou drags his eyes down Katsuki’s kneeling body, lazy smirk not leaving his face, “Hey, hey, dude. It’s okay. I actually…”. He trails off. Katsuki doesn’t move. Quieter, Shinsou glances at the pile of dirty laundry by his feet, smile faltering slightly. “I like someone too”.
God, God . Katsuki knows he must be hallucinating. Katsuki is frozen, kneeling on Hitoshi Shinsou’s bed, and somehow Shinsou now has feelings. Feelings, of all things? Katsuki’s mind is reeling. It is way too late (early?) for this.
Genuinely, Katsuki is surprised. Shinsou always comes off apathetic, cocky, better than the rest of them. Apparently, he has noticed the people around him, noticed them enough to find someone he likes , likes in that way. Katsuki scrunches his face as he attempts to recall a time he’s seen Shinsou show an emotion that wasn’t annoyance, distaste, or conceited pride. He hesitates, “You gonna tell me who it is, eyebags?” Katsuki has revealed way too much about himself tonight. He decides it is only fair to ask.
Shinsou shrinks into himself, a movement Katsuki finds dissonant with Shinsou’s broad frame and casual demeanor. He opens his mouth, closes it, hesitation clear on his face. He then speaks, voice scratchy, blush rising to match Katsuki’s, “It might be.. Kaminari?” Once again, the thought that Shinsou is actually impressively brave crosses Katsuki’s mind before he registers what was just said.
“ No way , that dunceface?” Katsuki can't help but let his jaw drop, but his eyebrows slowly come together as he considers. He tries to imagine bored, edgy, Shinsou next to sunny, energetic Kaminari. He can’t help but think of Aizawa and Mic-sensei, who seem a bit too close for comfort. Huh, maybe opposites do attract . Katsuki realizes he is still kneeling and lowers down onto his ankles. When he looks up to Shinsou’s face, Katsuki reels at how flustered the boy looks, so unfamiliar.
“Fuck off. He’s cute, happy. And did you see him take out Ojiro in training yesterday? Dude’s strong as hell”. Shinsou shrugs meekly, a weak smile tugging at his mouth. Katsuki can’t argue with that, because, as much of an idiot Sparky is, he’s clearly earned his spot in 1A the past few months. Katsuki feels a strange sense of solidarity come over him; he can respect Shinsou for seeing strength in his classmates. Shinsou continues, “So, clearly Kirishima likes you— why don’t you ask him out?”
“NO fucking.. no fucking way,” Katsuki starts, “I can’t. I don’t do that sort of thing.” He glares at the floor like the wooden planks had personally wronged him.
Shinsou snorts, but it’s light and non-judgemental, “Of course you don’t, but I doubt Kirishima gives a shit about grand romantic gestures or getting swept off his feet. For fucks sake, he likes you , he’d probably be over the moon if you kissed him over weight lifting or something”. Katsuki can’t say he doesn’t hate the thought of that, stealing a kiss while Kirishima’s lying back on the bench press, beads of sweat down his biceps. Those biceps… Katsuki’s blush sets in deeper, if that’s even possible.
But.. I haven’t.. I can’t,” Katsuki stumbles, stuck and frustrated. “I’ve never kissed anyone or anything like that, because I don’t have time for sappy bullshit if I’m gonna be number one.” Maybe it’s the low, warm light from the little purple desk lamp, the late hour, or the heavy exhaustion (wasn’t he here to solve his sleep problem?), but Katsuki cracks just a bit more. “I-I don’t want him to be disappointed by me”. Katsuki thinks of all the ways he could die at this moment. He could strangle himself with Shinsou’s dirty shirts strewn on the floor (gross). Perhaps a villain could crash through the window right now, killing him instantly (better). That would be convenient.
Shinsou gazes at him for a moment before his face shifts, determined. “Katsuki, there’s no way he’d be disappointed by you. We’ve all seen the way he trails after you.” Of the countless ways Katsuki’s been surprised this evening, this, this statement takes the cake. Shinsou seems… earnest? Katsuki gapes while Shinsou sits back on the bed, nonchalant. Shinsou speaks again, “But… I can show you how to kiss, so you feel better about it?”.
Scrambling to the far edge of the bed, Katsuki’s ever sweaty hands grip the duvet. “What the fuck??” he squeaks, “Are you fucking stupid?? Were you not listening when I told you I like someone else? Why the fuck would I be into you?” The roar in his ears has returned. Why did he come here? What is he doing? Everything is wrong?
Despite the blond’s outburst, Shinsou keeps his face still with his usual vague disinterest, but his hands twisting together suggest otherwise. He shakes his head slowly, “Not like that, dude. I’m not into you, I like Kaminari,” he takes a breath, “It’s just platonic, practice”. He wavers a bit, perhaps remembering that this is Katsuki he is speaking with here, and that he apparently has a death wish.
Katsuki settles slightly. He shuffles back against the wall, matching Shinsou’s position. His shoulders remain tense. He scoffs, incredulous, “how the fuck can kissing be platonic?”
Despite the tension in the air, Shinsou answers easily, “Dude, people kiss platonically all the time. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I was just offering you a favor, but it’s up to you. I’m not gonna force you to do anything”. Katsuki wonders if Shinsou is referring to his mind-controlling.
“You can’t force me to do shit,” and they both know that’s not true, but, for some reason, Katsuki finds he can trust the insomniac sitting next to him. They sit for a moment. Katsuki would like to say he’s level-headed, but his mind is disturbingly blank.
Shinsou turns his head to look at him. His hands haven't stopped fidgeting. “..So?”
Katsuki wants to leave. He wants to punch a wall or go to bed or yell at someone. He breathes in. “Fine”.
“Heh, alright,” Shinsou’s voice is low. It is always low. His calm exterior is… pervasive, like he knew Katsuki would crack all along. Katsuki is certain that Shinsou did not, in fact, know this. “Well, you’ll have to get closer to me, first”.
Shinsou plants his palm in the bed and shifts no more than an inch. Before Katsuki can overthink it, he slides over, bringing their shoulders a hair apart. Katsuki refuses to make eye contact, glowering at his lap, until he feels Shinsou’s long fingers rest on his jaw. His fingertips are cool, smooth, a stark contrast to Katsuki’s, calloused, burning. Shinsou gently guides him forward before pausing just a breath away. “This okay?” Katsuki feels the words hot on his lips. He shivers.
Katsuki doesn’t answer, because he’s gonna be a pro-hero goddamnit, and he’s not a fucking sissy. He closes the gap.
Shinsou is… warm. Warm and close. Katsuki can’t think of a time he has ever let someone this close to his face, maybe besides his mother when she would clean up his cuts and bruises as a kid. They stay pressed together for a moment, Katsuki tense and unmoving, before Shinsou pulls away, looking at him expectantly.
“That was shit,” Katsuki balks, but the words come out quieter and breathier than intended. If Shinsou notices, he chooses not to comment.
“You have to relax, and you can move your lips, you know.”
Katsuki grumbles before bringing their lips back together. The kiss is still tense, but… different as their lips begin to move against each other. Shinsou brings his hands to Katsuki’s shoulders, pressing them down lightly, encouraging him to relax. The touch causes something to click in Katsuki’s brain, which doesn’t seem to be providing thoughts rather than vague waves of sensation . Shinsou’s hands, big, there , are tender but firm, knowing. Katsuki can’t help but slowly, slowly lower his shoulders, loosening, and he finds himself pushing more force into the kiss. Katsuki can feel where Shinsou’s lips are chapped, cracked, but soft and sure. Shinsou then slides his hands down Katsuki’s arms (Katsuki can’t help but hope, fleetingly, that Shinsou notices his firm muscles, cause goddamn he’s worked hard for that). When Shinsou’s hands reach Katsuki’s, their fingers tangle gently, and Shinsou flips Kasuki’s hands to skim his palms. Katsuki sighs.
With the sound, Katsuki becomes aware of how disgustingly sweaty his palms are, and without breaking the kiss, he takes his hands one by one to wipe on his sweats, before returning to Shinsou’s hands. Shinsou, with a light laugh, mumbles against the other’s lips “You better not blow me up”. The warm air against Katsuki’s lips causes something to tug in his stomach.
Katsuki pulls back briefly for a strangled, but needed, “Shut the fuck up”. For the first time, he sees the other boy. Shinsou’s cheeks are flushed deep, and his pupils are blown out. Katsuki reels at the strangeness of the sight, but is unable to tear his gaze away.
Shinsou breaks his slack expression to quirk an eyebrow, “Alright?”
Katsuki dives back into the kiss, perhaps too aggressively, because their teeth clash together in a way that, embarrassingly, makes Katsuki’s toes curl. He is determined to take charge, now that he knows what to do. He will win this kiss, because Shinsou is a dick. A weirdly, unsettlingly, unexpectedly talented-with-his-mouth dick, but a dick nonetheless.
And Katsuki wants to be in charge, but then Shinsou guides Katsuki’s hands to his waist and brushes his teeth against Katsuki’s lip, and Kasuki is man enough to admit that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. Shinsou bites down on Kasuki’s bottom lip, this time, with force.
Katsuki flies back, to which Shinsou lets out a frustrated exhale. Katsuki scrunches his nose, “Why did you bite me?”
Shinsou is impatient, “Did you not like it?”
Katsuki’s expression doesn’t change, but his voice is determined, “Show me how to do that”.
Shinsou grins and pitches forward, biting and nipping between laughter and breath, and it’s.. fun? This is fun, Katsuki decides, upset that this is true, and that he’s been missing out. Mostly, he’s excited to show Kirishima. Kirishima deserves fun. That, he knows.
It’s not long before they find a rhythm. Katsuki has always prided himself in being a quick learner, and he’ll be damned if this is any different. Biting comes naturally, gentle tongue following to soothe the sting. Katsuki feels a heavy hum in his chest as their tongues slide together, messy, aimless, exploring. Before long, the two are breathless and sweaty and half-hard, and Katsuki could almost smile. Slowly, the two pull back.
Shinsou leans back against the wall, scratching a hand at his opposite shoulder. “That was… good,” he breathes. Katsuki brings a hand to his lips, notes the swollen feeling, tender, hot. Like his thighs after a particularly difficult workout, but infinitely softer. Katsuki can feel Shinsou’s eyes on him, but it doesn’t feel judging this time. It feels relaxed, tired.
“I am going to sleep,” Katsuki announces, catching Shinsou’s gaze. Katsuki doesn’t smile, but he hopes his eyes communicate enough, I’m not mad. I liked that. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m calm. I am calm.
Shinsou smiles, and for the first time, Katsuki is not surprised to see a genuine expression on the other boy’s face. He nods, “Come over next time you can’t sleep?” Katsuki, stiffly, honestly, nods back.
“Goodnight, eyebags”.
“Hah, get out of my room,” Shinsou waves him off lightly and turns to get into his bed.
As Katsuki steps out into the hallway, he hears Shinsou’s teasing voice after him, “Kirishima’s not ready for this stud”. Katsuki slams the door behind him with way too much force for this hour of night— God, what time is it —, but he can’t hide the smirk that creeps on his face.
~
As Katsuki climbs into bed, he feels exhaustion wash over his body. He is warm, not like his usual sweating palms, but like he just spent a day in the sun. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll ask Kirishima out.
He doesn’t dream that night.