Work Text:
“You finally gonna stop being a pussy?” murmured a black-clad, made-up Shinsou Hitoshi. He loomed briefly over Katsuki before sliding his way into the only other seat at the tiny table Katsuki had been slumped over, nursing his drink, before jerking upright at the intrusion.
“What the hell are you yammering about?” growled Katsuki, but it was Katsuki’s heart that was yammering, galloping along like a herd of wild buffalo. For Shinsou’s eyes were gleaming with what could only be malicious intent, and Katsuki was hit with a sudden sinking feeling that this was due entirely to the fact that he had given himself away.
Impossible!
Or was it?
True, he had indulged in some brief glances (he never could seem to stop himself from doing so). Had one of them been longer than brief? Had he been caught staring?
No. Katsuki was sure he hadn’t. He was too careful to do something that buttfuck stupid. Nor had he done anything else to reveal the cards he kept so close to his chest. Therefore, Shinsou didn’t – couldn’t – know. Maybe he’d seen a quick flick of Katsuki’s gaze in that direction and decided to make something of it. Poke at Katsuki and see if it flustered him. Which meant that all Katsuki had to do was keep cool and wait it out and his secret would remain just that – a secret he would (at this rate) carry to his grave.
He willed his heart to slow down and deepened the scowl on his face. He could do this. He could out-Shinsou Shinsou any day.
“Nice try,” scoffed Shinsou (somehow managing to ooze maximal internal amusement by intonation alone), “but I’ve been watching you make heart eyes at him since high school, dude. That genie is out of the bottle.”
Katsuki held his face still with painful difficulty.
Since high school?
There was no way! Katsuki himself had barely known in high school – and then he’d thought it a mere flash-in-the-pan-type crush. It was only two years post-graduation (a date now far too many years ago) when he caught himself replaying a televised clip four times in a row to catch the swish of that fucking lightning bolt hair that he’d realized the depths to which he’d sunk.
Shinsou was full of shit.
“I said, what the hell are you yammering about?” Katsuki did his best to growl in an intimidating manner.
Shinsou rolled his eyes. “You can play pretend as much as you want, but it won’t do any good. I know all about your feelings for our resident golden boy.”
It was pretty hard to keep the scowl up in the face of such a direct hit.
Katsuki tried to take a deep breath and found that his ribcage had tightened around his lungs.
Because… if Shinsou knew, did that mean Denki knew?
His palms grew immediately clammy (never a good thing off the battlefield) and sweat gathered at the back of his neck.
He clawed himself from the edge of absolute panic and forced a deep breath through the constricting prison of his thorax.
A quick glance told him that there were no imminent threats (aside from the one sitting across from him). No one else had taken note of their conversation. Denki was still leaning against the wall being hit on by a well-endowed brunette wearing what essentially amounted to a bustier and a skirt so small Katsuki could see the electric pink edge of her thong disappear between smooth-looking thighs. He sure as hell wasn’t eyeing Katsuki suspiciously. He wasn’t paying any attention at all to Katsuki (that, ultimately, being the problem).
Katsuki automatically gnashed his teeth at the reminder and returned his attention to the man sitting before him, whereupon his eyes narrowed. If Shinsou hadn’t spilled the beans to Denki (after holding onto that secret longer than Katsuki, apparently), then what was he waiting for? The perfect blackmail opportunity? Or a very showy (and, probably from his standpoint, exceedingly entertaining) public reveal?
It had to be the latter.
Which meant Katsuki better cut out of there pronto and avoid Shinsou for the next decade. If Shinsou couldn’t find him, he couldn’t have the satisfaction, could he?
Problem solved.
Go on, then, Katsuki urged himself. Time to leap out of his seat and blow Shinsou’s hair off for good measure as he went so he didn’t come running after Katsuki anytime soon. That asshole had grown it way too long, anyway. Plus it would be a good test of Katsuki’s skill; he could probably get most of it off without hitting (too much of) that obnoxious face.
And yet, he didn’t budge an inch.
Why? he demanded of himself. Because Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t run away, was the obvious answer.
Except… that wasn’t really why. He knew it, and he could admit it to himself because he wasn’t a coward (except about one thing). He was still parked on his butt because, on some level, he was stupidly grateful that someone else knew. He wasn’t alone anymore. Even if it had to be Mindfuck, and even if Mindfuck wanted to humiliate him in the most public way imaginable, that didn’t take away from the relief of having someone else bear the weight of this lodestone that had been hanging around his neck for years.
(Fuck the human need for socialization. Fuck being human altogether.)
His eyes crept once more to Denki and that harpy of a woman molding her overlarge breasts to his chest.
“Yep, he’s a tits man,” said Shinsou, plainly following the line of both Katsuki’s sight and his thoughts. He added with an annoying degree of reassuring condescension, “But that’s okay, because yours are nothing to sneeze at. And you know he likes boys, too.”
Katsuki’s head swung back around. Caught in the act a second time in the space of five minutes. He was losing it. But the battle wasn’t over yet. He was grateful that Shinsou knew, but the fact remained that, until he offered genuine confirmation, Shinsou didn’t have proof. Katsuki still had plausible deniability on his side.
Although Shinsou didn’t seem to think so because he was yammering away, wasn’t he? “Make your move, and it’ll work out just fine."
“It will?” The words shot out of Katsuki all on their own, and there went his plausible deniability, right down the drain.
A flash of triumph crossed Shinsou’s face. He’d gotten it, the confirmation he’d needed. The jig was fully up. Now Katsuki could only wait (because he was still glued to this chair, dammit) and see what Shinsou was going to do with that information.
He was a little surprised that what he did was answer Katsuki's question.
“Because you’re Bakugou Katsuki, number four Pro Hero, and half of Japan wants to jump you.”
Katsuki grimaced. Should have known not to get his hopes up. What a dumb thing to say – as if Katsuki would ever date some starry-eyed fan. One of the things he liked about Denki was how un-starry-eyed he was.
“Just messin’ with you,” said Shinsou with a soft chuckle.
And that was – even worse. If it wasn’t blackmail, and it wasn’t a big public reveal, it was playing around with Katsuki like a cat playing with a mouse? Well, Katsuki was ending this conversation now.
He slammed a hand on the table and started to rise, making sure to lean forward as he did so (Shinsou wasn’t the only one who could loom).
Before he was halfway up, Shinsou had laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. Forcefully.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding, if not genuinely apologetic, at least slightly contrite. “Can’t help teasing you, it's too much fun.” Then he looked Katsuki directly in the eye, and with all the solemnity of a pastor presiding over a funeral, said, “I meant what I said earlier. It’ll work out because Denki’s a good guy, and he’s respected you since day one. Even if he’s not interested, he won’t respect you any less. And if you make your move, you’ll finally know. It’s way past time to fish or cut bait.”
“Easy for you to say,” grumbled Katsuki, because the thought of doing it – actually doing it – had his neck prickling in fear.
Shinsou shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe it’s not so easy to watch you looking like a kicked puppy, and if I have to do it for another second, I’ll literally hurl.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, thanks. I’m more of an ass man myself – not that you’re lacking in that department either. But I have a hunch Denki will appreciate all parts of you.” He lowered his voice. “Bakugou, I have a really good feeling about you two.”
“You do?” Once again, the words slipped out of their own accord – and annoyingly earnestly, too.
Shinsou didn’t even smile: no cheshire grin, no drawling jeer, no more gleaming triumph. Just a solemn nod and a little shooing motion with his hand indicating Katsuki should get a move on, but done low enough not to be noticed by anyone else. In fact, nothing of this song and dance of his was for show: it was all for Katsuki and Katsuki alone.
“Given the chance, I think he’ll see the light. Just give him a little bit of time after you drop the bomb on him. He may need an adjustment period. I don’t think he’s ever allowed himself to think of you like that. You’re an intimidating guy, you know.”
“You’re not intimidated.”
“Nope. That’s my superpower. Now, go.” Another shooing motion, more exaggerated. “Come on. Go get your man.” This was followed by a quiet but high-pitched whistle and a “Git,” as though Katsuki were an obstinate nag.
Katsuki scowled but he didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He was an obstinate nag – if not an outright slacker – in this regard. “I – “ he started to say, not even sure what was going to come after, before Shinsou cut him off.
“Nope, don’t want to hear any excuses. The time for talk is over. You know what you gotta do, big boy.”
“I – “ Katsuki croaked again.
Shinsou held a hand up. “Shut up. I’m all pep talked out.”
Katsuki glowered, his stomach a writhing ball of nerves.
“Just do it, man.” When Katsuki proceeded to take no action whatsoever, Shinsou rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll buy you some time. But only a little, so get that chin up and pull yourself together, Mr. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight! And you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you shit!”
“That’s the spirit,” said Shinsou with a grin. “And you do owe me.” He stood up. Maybe Katsuki had forgotten how big he’d gotten because he sure as hell looked big now, once again looming over the table with his too-long hair, his tight black shirt, black eyeliner, black nail polish – goth poser asshole.
And then he was gone, leaving Katsuki simmering in dreadful anticipation – what was he going to do now?
When the woman, with a little breathy giggle, ran back to her friends (how had Shinsou predicted she would do that right at this moment? Damn, he was good!) Shinsou slid up and put an arm around her, smiling his creepy lizard smile right at her.
He was buying Katsuki time.
Which meant that it was now or never.
Katsuki stood up in a surge of adrenaline. He wasn’t a fucking pussy. He was going to do it. One way or another, today was going to end with him knowing whether or not he had a chance.
His heart beat a machine-gun rhythm in his chest as he walked up to Denki. He got right in his face, as close as that woman had been.
“Don’t go home with her," he spat out.
Denki gave him a confused look.
“Don’t go home with her," Katsuki repeated. "Go on a date with me instead."
These words were met with frank bewilderment. Denki looked almost dazed, as though he were back in high school after discharging his highest voltage, about to go dizzy and cross-eyed.
“Wh-what?” he stuttered out.
“Go on a date with me,” repeated Katsuki, gritting his teeth. His temples throbbed. This wasn't an auspicious start. Was he going to get anywhere? He didn't know. He couldn't give up now, though. He had committed.
“You’re kidding... right?” asked Denki.
“I'm not kidding.” The sweat was about to start dripping down Katsuki’s hands, and he surreptitiously rubbed them on his jeans. That is, it was supposed to be surreptitious, but Denki caught the movement.
His eyes widened in astonishment. “Are you nervous? Why are you nervous?" Then he frowned. "Are you quirked? Or is this a prank?”
“Shut up,” hissed Katsuki. “I’m not quirked and it’s not a prank. I like you, you idiot. I wanna take you out.”
“Out?” repeated Denki dumbly. He was obviously having difficulty making sense of Katsuki's words. Katsuki had not thought it possible for him to get cuter than he already was, but apparently this pure befuddlement was seriously doing it for him. He was so gone for this jerk. His heart swelled with both affection and determination. He had to make it happen.
“Yeah. The best fuckin’ date of your life," he said, with as much bravado as he ever had.
“You’re serious,” said Denki blankly.
“I am,” affirmed Katsuki. He wondered when he was going to stop sweating. There was something trickling down the left side of his face. Maybe this was Shinsou’s revenge after all. Yeah, it definitely was. He better not be filming, the bastard.
Denki's eyes searched his. “This isn’t a joke?”
“Would you stop asking that? Why would I joke about this?”
“That’s true," said Denki slowly, like he was trying to work his way through a very difficult puzzle. "It's not really your thing."
“Stop thinking so hard. I like you, moron, that’s it.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Denki snorted. “If you like me that much, consider ditching the insults?”
“I like you," said Katsuki, obliging him.
There was that astonishment again. How could Denki be so adorable?
“Wow, dude," he said. "I’m starting to believe you.”
“You better believe me because it’s true. I like you.” Each time Katsuki said it, he felt better, stronger. It was like a dam was breaking inside of him. He wanted to say it over and over – to shout it from the rooftops, or the clouds. He wanted the whole world to know.
“You do?” said Denki, but his eyes were dancing now, one brow quirking up in amusement; he was laughing at Katsuki.
Katsuki didn’t care. Denki could laugh all he wanted, as long as he said yes. Which meant Katsuki should probably up the ante, as merely repeating himself didn’t seem to be doing the trick.
“Yeah. I like you. A lot." When he got another flash of disbelief, he crossed his hands over his chest. "I like so many things about you. I like your stupid smartass personality. I like how fucking hard you work. I like how strong you’ve become.” Denki’s mouth opened in surprise, but Katsuki was rolling on that wave coursing out of the broken dam and nothing was going to stop him. “I like it when you laugh, even when you’re laughing at your own dumb jokes. I like it so much. I want to make you laugh, too.” He was gratified to see how still Denki was, how he was drinking in every word. “I like being around you, and I want to be around you more. I want to make you dinner at night and breakfast the next morning because you're still there. I like seeing you, looking at you, I could look at you all day, at your pretty fucking face. Every minute of every day. I even like that you never know when to shut up.”
He stopped, breathless and lightheaded, the reality of what he’d just said smacking him between the eyes. It was exhilarating and frightening, like when he climbed too high into air that was too thin without an oxygen tank.
Denki seemed to be having his own struggles, visibly working his jaw for a good twenty seconds before any words came out.
“You like me?" He held up one finger. "You like my stupid, smartass personality?" Up came a second finger. "You like how hard I work?" A third finger joined the other two, and Katsuki had had enough. He was not about to listen to any more of the shit that had come out of his own mouth repeated out of Denki’s. Once had been bad enough. And since Denki could never be relied on to shut himself up, Katsuki did it for him.
He was trembling and sweaty as hell, but that didn't stop him from stepping abruptly forward and pressing his mouth to Denki’s.
There was a muffled gasp from Denki (so close to Katsuki's ear!) coupled with the extreme shock of doing it, of kissing Denki. This was it! After all this time, it was finally happening. Caught up in the awe of it, and, frankly, too afraid to move, Katsuki stood rigid as a statue.
Denki, also, stood stock still for a good, long moment, giving Katsuki's anxiety plenty of time to skyrocket. But seconds before he hurled himself backwards and out into the night in a paroxysm of humiliated embarrassment (not to mention the blasted ruins of his hopes and dreams), Denki stood up to the plate. He carefully, deliberately, pressed his lips against Katsuki's. Kissing him back! Carefully, deliberately, moved a hand to Katsuki’s waist, fingers curling lightly around it. Holding him, too! And carefully, deliberately, shifted a half-step forward, so their chests were nearly touching.
Denki was reciprocating!
And, oh, Katsuki wanted this so bad. He wanted to pull Denki in closer and wrap sweaty arms around him and inhale his scent and fucking pick him up and carry him home.
There came a soft lone whistle, piercing this reverie. Katsuki knew full well who it was, that purple-haired freak. It broke the spell, enough for the two of them to break apart. Katsuki, however, was stopped from turning around to give Shinsou the finger he deserved.
Because Denki was looking straight into his eyes and saying, through a smile as wide as the one Katsuki realized he was wearing, “Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you.”