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Shouto didn’t think it was such a big deal.
So he’s seventeen and he hasn’t had his first kiss. He was waiting. He wanted it to be special.
(Which sounds silly if he tries to say it out loud, but so much of his life has been not his, and he figured he could at least get to pick his first kiss, and that could be just for him.)
But now Bakugou is laughing at him.
They’re on the roof, and he smells a little like cheap beer, and he made fun of Shouto for taking one that read peach infused out of the cooler, and now he’s laughing, and he’s—he’s still handsome enough to make something swoop low in Shouto’s belly, and that’s really not fair.
“Stop being mean,” he says. “Why is that funny?”
“Because,” Bakugou huffs. “You’re, like, the prettiest thing in the world.”
Oh, Shouto thinks.
Maybe Bakugou drank more than he saw. Maybe that’s why—
Or—or maybe he just. What? Means it?
“You think I’m pretty?” Shouto asks.
He feels silly. He feels like those omegas in the books nee-san lends him. The ones who swoon over rugged alphas and fan themselves at the first sight of abs.
Which is—
That really is silly. He’s seen Bakugou’s abs plenty, and he’s never once swooned.
(Even if he did rush back to his dorm after a quick shower and bit his lip to keep quiet with a pillow between his thighs, once or twice, but his heat was probably due back then. So. He can’t be blamed for that.)
“Come on, princess,” Bakugou says. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”
“No,” Shouto blurts. “I do.”
And then—
And then Bakugou is closer, and Shouto can’t really smell the alcohol on him anymore. Just—alpha. Just that comforting campfire scent, so much sharper when it curls around him like this.
(Almost like Bakugou is staking a claim.)
“Yeah?” he asks, cupping Shouto’s cheek. “You sure about that?”
A rough thumb presses down on the swell of Shouto’s lower lip. Shouto can’t breathe, all of a sudden. He looks up at Bakugou.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure.”
It feels a little like when they spar, and Bakugou’s fingers end up digging a little too hard into his waist, and Shouto has to pretend he didn’t forget it was supposed to be a fight, just for a breath or two.
It feels like that, except—
This time they aren’t fighting.
This time, Bakugou doesn’t have a convenient excuse for his hands ending up on Shouto. And he’s touching him anyway.
“You know,” he says, “if I was a real asshole, I’d ask if you were saving it for me.”
Shouto blinks. It’s funny, but he doesn’t think about Bakugou like this. Like—like self-preservation, or something. When Bakugou isn’t touching him, when Bakugou isn’t talking to him, he’s fine. The painfully omega bit of him doesn’t ache and yearn and imagine dumb things like alpha calling him pretty.
God, that’s—
Bakugou’s fault. It’s Bakugou’s fault.
“I just—,” Shouto says, but the words won’t come out properly.
“Let me guess,” Bakugou says. “You wanted it to be special, didn’t you? Had little notes in your diary about it? Even went and told Ponytail?”
Shouto swats at his chest. “I don’t have a diary,” he says. “And I already told you to stop being mean to me.”
(He has a journal, which is clearly an entirely separate thing, not that Bakugou would know.)
“Or what?” Bakugou asks. “I can’t kiss you?”
He’s so close. He smells good. Like—like it’s really okay for Shouto to press a little closer and let him take care of him forever and ever and ever and then after, too, if there is an after.
“Do you want to?” Shouto asks. And then, “Is it just because you think I’m pretty? Or, um, because I’m an omega?”
Not that either of those would be bad, not really, not if Bakugou kisses him, not if he means it, because Bakugou is always good at the things he means, but—
Still.
Some small part of Shouto wants it to be more than that, even if he’s seventeen and he hasn’t had his first kiss yet, and Bakugou is potentially under the influence of distinctly non-peach-flavored beer?
(Maybe because of that, even.)
“It’s because you’re you,” Bakugou says, like he’s offended. “Because you’re always in my head, you pretty menace.”
“Oh,” says Shouto.
And then Bakugou is swallowing down his surprise like he wants to find out how it tastes, and Shouto finds out that his mouth is soft.
He’s warm. What a thing to think about a boy who can make things explode, but Bakugou is really, really warm. And he parts Shouto’s mouth and slips inside, and it only gets warmer from there, and Shouto doesn’t know what to do with himself except clutch tighter at Bakugou’s shirt and hold on.
“There,” Bakugou says. “Was that so bad?”
“I don’t know,” Shouto says. “You might have to do it again so I can double-check.”
He feels dizzy, even with Bakugou keeping him steady.
“Yeah?” Bakugou asks.
“Mm,” says Shouto. “For, um, experimental integrity?”
Bakugou laughs again. Shouto decides it’s a really good sound. Especially when they’re this close.
“You running an experiment here, half ‘n half?” he asks. “Need my help collecting data?”
“Well,” Shouto says, batting his eyelashes. “I can’t very well do it alone. I hear you need an alpha for this sort of thing.”
“Guess that’s fair,” Bakugou says. “So, what do you want?”
Shouto blinks.
“What do you want?” Bakugou repeats. “Heard you talking about some cat cafe with Ponytail a couple days ago?”
“And boba,” Shouto says, throat dry. “They had a lot of flavors. I saw it online.”
“So? You want me to take you?”
Does he want—
“Like a date?” Shouto blurts. “Like—together?”
And he could smother himself with a pillow, because he’s pretty sure he’s gone traffic light red, and they’re so close Bakugou can spot it even if there’s nothing except stars and the night sky behind him, and—
And is this always how it goes, after your first kiss?
In nee-san's romance novels, either the chapter conveniently ends or the omega gets scooped up and carried to bed and then there’s, um, more than kissing, and now Shouto is thinking about more than kissing with Bakugou, and that’s definitely not helping the traffic light situation, and—
“Yeah,” Bakugou says. “Together. What, do you think I kiss every omega who chases after me on the roof?”
“Do a lot of omegas chase after you on the roof?” Shouto asks.
Besides, it got loud inside. He didn’t come up here so Bakugou would tip his chin up and kiss him slow like Shouto’s precious to him. Even if that happened anyway.
“Only the really pretty ones,” Bakugou teases. “Just my luck that they’re spoiled too.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Shouto asks. “Can’t you handle it?”
Bakugou is stubborn, and he’s determined, and he buys Shouto’s favorite kind of strawberry milk when he’s about to run out without Shouto having to ask or remind him. So. He can probably handle this part.
“Oh,” Bakugou says, running his tongue over his canines. “I can handle you just fine, princess.”
Suddenly, Shouto doesn’t know what to do about the urge to hide. So he just. Does it. He presses his face into the curve of Bakugou’s neck, and he hides.
“Um,” he mumbles, breath probably tickling Bakugou’s neck. “I live here now, okay?”
Which—
Is kind of the worst thing he could possibly say, actually, but Bakugou just laughs.
“Sure,” he says. “You cozy, princess?”
“Mm,” Shouto says. “Good alpha.”
And it turns out that that’s actually the worst thing he could say, because Bakugou goes still, and his fingers dig into Shouto’s waist, and then he says, “So I’m your alpha now?” right into Shouto’s ear.
He could be, says Shouto’s traitorous heart.
He could be, and he’d be good at it, and Shouto would probably never have to worry about going without strawberry milk or kisses again. Or, you know, the bigger stuff too.
And it wouldn’t be so bad to tell him that, but what Shouto ends up saying instead is—
“Only if we can try out some of the things from nee-san's books. Can we do that?”
Bakugou pulls back. “Those dirty romance novels with the shirtless alphas on the cover you’re always reading curled up in your little nest on the couch when you can’t sleep?” he says incredulously, even while he tips Shouto’s chin up all soft. “Really? And here I thought you’d be a fair maiden.”
“Your fault,” Shouto whines. “I get to see you shirtless a lot.”
Bakugou’s smile turns so smug Shouto would hit him if he wasn’t so handsome. “I see,” he says. “So I’m guessing you should return the favor? In the spirit of fairness and equality and further empirical testing for your data?”
“Boba first,” Shouto says. “I have some standards, you know.”
“Right, right,” says Bakugou, mouth twitching. “My bad, princess.”
“It’s okay,” Shouto says. “I like your scent.”
And they could stay out here a little longer, because it’s nice and quiet, and the stars are pretty, and Bakugou is warm, and Shouto decides he’d like his second kiss too, now that he’s had his first.
And maybe a few more. But, you know, not all of them out on the roof.
(But, ideally, all of them with Bakugou.)