Chapter Text
Shinsou knows that he’s not exactly the most well adjusted person on the planet. Being given up for adoption and then bouncing from foster home to foster home while being bullied and ostracized for his quirk did not a healthy adult make. He’s a little obsessive, a lot anxious, has extremely confused self esteem issues, and an instinct to hoard. But he’s been to therapy about it. Well...he’s been to extracurricular training with Aizawa about it. That’s basically the same thing, he assumes. And he almost finished a self help book once so he knows he’s got attachment issues. And he knows that trying to date Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, will do nothing to help them. But Bakugou is so pretty and so mean and Shinsou just wants, ok? He’s allowed to have nice things even if they are bad for him.
And Bakugou is such a nice thing. Well, not nice nice. But he’s prickly and snarky and loud and so fucking lethal it’s unreal. Watching him work is a thing of beauty. There’s been a few times, late at night, when the loneliness is a little closer than Shinsou would like, that’s he’s seriously considered sticking a toe across the line of legality just to be on the receiving end of that intense focus.
And, on top of all that, he’s so stupid pretty it makes Shinsou want to bite something. Preferably Bakugou. So basically what he’s saying is that all he really wants out of life now is the chance to pet Bakugou’s hair and tell him how pretty he is, maybe find out if he really will turn as red and get as stuttery as Shinsou thinks he will. He’s good at reading people. He’s pretty sure that Bakugou is the type to get flustered by that sort of thing. He also really wants to see how many pet names he can call him before Bakugou snaps and murders him. Possibly finger him until he cries. He’s got a list, ok.
So he considers the day Bakugou agrees to go on a date with him the best day of his life up to that point. Pathetic maybe but then again so was his childhood. And then their first date goes so incredibly well that it becomes the best day of his life. Bakugou had even gotten to yell at someone which he seemed to enjoy immensely and Shinsou had gotten to watch, which he also enjoyed immensely. It was a success all around so he’s fairly confident that Bakugou will agree to a second date.
There’s just one teeny, tiny problem.
Not insurmountable, of course. It’s just that their communication needs work. Specifically, the way Bakugou texts him back. By that Shinsou means that he doesn’t. Well, he does but the time frame definitely needs adjustment.
Look, Shinsou doesn’t mean to start following Bakugou regularly or anything. It’s just that it takes him so long to respond to texts sometimes (all the time) which activates Shinsou’s anxiety and then the bees in his brain start buzzing incessantly and he can’t focus or breathe and then he spends his whole day twisting himself up in agonizing knots about it until Bakugou deigns to text back. It’s a lot and it’s unpleasant, is what he’s trying to say.
Spending eight hours handcuffed in a sewer waiting for an extraction team that has no idea where he is? No problem. Going out on missions with an ‘eh just get out there and see how it goes’ sort of timeline. He’s your man. Waiting an hour for a cute boy to text him back? Horrific. He’s a wreck. It’s disgraceful.
So it makes sense to just...drop by his apartment one evening to see why he takes forever to respond. He’s not going to bother him or anything. He just wants to know.
So maybe one evening finds Shinsou on the roof of the building opposite Bakugou’s with a lawn chair and some binoculars. He’s wearing a hero costume to avoid suspicion. Not his own, obviously, that would be stupid. But….someone else’s. Anyone who happens to glance up and notice him with just think he’s a hero doing a job. Its foolproof. Bakugou’s lights are on and the blinds are wide open so Shinsou can see him and his entire living room perfectly. God, it’s like he’s asking to be spied on. Bakugou is sitting on his couch, reading a book, wearing an over sized hoodie and fluffy slippers. Shinsou looks closer. Slippers that have little tassels shaped like explosions on them. He looks so soft and so cute that Shinsou kind of wants to throw himself off the building.
He loses a little bit of time like that, just staring, enraptured by the sheer fact of Bakugou’s existence. He is entirely unaware of how his fingers keep curling and uncurling. What he is aware of is how much he wants to sink his hands into all that spiky hair and pull. A car backfiring down the street startles him and he shakes his head. Focus, he tells himself. You’re here to do a job.
So Shinsou settles down comfortably in his chair, adjusts his binoculars for maximum clarity, and sends a text. A harmless, innocent little text that’s going to tell him everything he needs to know about how Bakugou feels.
‘hi kitten :) I miss your face when can I see you again?’
He then carefully selects a gif of an irate pomeranian wearing a sweater and sends it, along with the caption ‘look how cute and fluffy you are ;)’ because he likes to live dangerously. Seconds after he sends the messages he watches Bakugou pick up his phone, stare at it—presumably reading Shinsou’s message—and then he turns bright red and flings his phone across the room. Shinsou’s mouth drops open and then even further when Bakugou buries his face in one of the tasteful throw pillows on his couch and looks, for all the world, like he’s screaming into it. For, like, a solid five minutes.
He then throws the pillow across the room and stomps over to get his phone and yep, those are sparks flashing at his fingertips. Shinsou watches him typing for several long minutes but nothing ever comes through on his end. Across the street, Bakugou is clearly seething about something, pacing back and forth across his living room, typing and typing. Then he drops his phone on the table and continues pacing, waving his arms wildly and ranting and Shinsou would happily give all of the money in someone else’s bank account to hear what he’s saying. Not his own though. He needs that. For Bakugou related reasons.
Shinsou watches him alternate stomping around and typing but he never gets a response and after about eleven and a half minutes—but who’s counting—Bakugou throws his phone at the couch and storms out of the room, leaving Shinsou a little unsure and a lot anxious. But he’s not a bitch so he cracks open his bag of chips and sits back to wait as long as he has to.
Bakugou returns forty five minutes later with wet hair and a determined expression. He snatches up his phone, types ferociously, then hits the send button like it owes him money. And then he sits down on his couch, eyes glued to his phone, and chewing on his lower lip. Shinsou’s phone chimes and he has no shame or reputation to uphold so he opens it immediately.
‘Fuck you and your stupid dog.’ immediately followed by another text that reads ‘I’m off at 1pm tomorrow if you want to get lunch or something.’
A third message pops up as he reads the first two. ‘And I’m picking where we go because you eat like a fucking toddler. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are not a valid lunch.’
‘Dumbass’ arrives shortly thereafter. Which, rude. Bakugou definitely enjoyed the restaurant Shinsou took him to on their first date. But he’ll let it slide. This time. And also probably all future times because he’s a weak, weak man where explosive rage gremlins are concerned. Also the dig about the peanut butter sandwiches was right on the mark. That had, in fact, been his lunch today. And yesterday. Possibly also the day before that too.
But whatever. He’s smiling so widely his cheeks hurt. He’s on night shift this month so 1pm is basically the crack of dawn for him but Bakugou is absolutely worth the lost sleep. He texts back immediately because, as he mentioned before, he has no shame or pride. At least when it comes to explosively beautiful human bombs.
‘it’s a date ;)’ He adds a gif of a cat wearing a sombrero and waving maracas, just for spice. And then glues his eyes to the binoculars for Bakugou’s reaction. He doesn’t disappoint. Bakugou snatches up his phone as soon as the text goes through which is gratifying. He turns tomato red again and then falls over sideways on to his couch and screams into the cushions. God, Shinsou can’t wait to fucking wreck him.
He doesn’t even mind that Bakugou leaves him on read. Not when he can watch him come apart in real time over a single pet name and a couple of emojis. After a while, Bakugou composes himself and marches over to close the blinds and Shinsou takes that as his cue to leave. He’s tempted to watch his apartment all night but that would be crazy and Shinsou isn’t crazy. He’s not sane, obviously. But not crazy. Slightly unhinged at worst.
He smiles the whole way home.
*****
Bakugou takes him to a neat little place that oozes cozy vibes even from the street. A large front window with a deep green awning and wrought iron tables and chairs out front. There’s two large, well cared for ferns on either side of the door and the lighting is warm and inviting as they step into the dimly lit shop. It feels kind of like walking into someone’s grandmother’s house. Well, he assumes. Shinsou as never had a grandmother or a house so he’s mostly basing the assumption on what he’s seen in the movies.
Bakugou’s photo is hanging under a prominently displayed BANNED FOR LIFE sign.
“Get out,” the little old lady at the counter snaps as soon as he walks in.
“Are you still living,” Bakugou shoots back and drags Shinsou up to the counter with a loud order not to get the dumplings. Shinsou is having a thrilling time already.
“Why are you banned,” he asks with interest as he peruses the menu.
Bakugou scoffs. “The old bat can’t handle constructive criticism--”
Unfortunately, its at that moment that a sedan goes through through the front wall. Brakes squeal, glass shatters and flies everywhere. Bakugou grabs Shinsou’s collar and hauls him behind the counter for cover.
“Not again,” the little old lady sighs, having not moved an inch.
Fortunately its not the sign of an impending villain attack, just your garden variety distracted driver trying to text, change the radio station, and fix their tie at the same time. Bakugou is apoplectic with rage and Shinsou thoroughly enjoys the extended period of time he spends watching him insult everything from the driver’s intelligence down to his choice in music.
“Do you need to call your agency to get this cleaned up,” Shinsou asks, “We can always reschedule.” He’ll be completely crushed of course but such is the life of the hero and he wants to show that he’s supportive and understanding. Mainly because he’s hoping Bakugou will be equally understanding of his own insane underground schedule. His eyes avidly track a bead of sweat as it slide down Bakugou’s throat and over his collarbone. What he wouldn’t give to lick it.
Bakugou looks affronted. “What? Fuck no. This is my day off and he’s not even a fucking villain. Some other extra can handle this shit.”
He rounds on the old lady. “Oi, old bat, I want two orders of the gyoza and two orders of the scallion pancakes to go. Make it fast.”
She brandishes a broom and glares. “There’s a car in my restaurant in case you hadn’t noticed, you insufferable brat!”
Bakugou sneers. “It’s not like it’s in your fucking kitchen.”
The old lady looks like she wishes the car had hit Bakugou instead. “I wish that goddamn car had hit you instead,” she mutters under her breath but disappears in to the kitchen anyway and a short while later Shinsou hears the sound of sizzling oil and a mouthwatering scent drifts from the back.
Fifteen minutes later they walk—well, climb over the car—outside with a box of food neatly wrapped in a cartoon food patterned handkerchief. It smells quite frankly incredible.
“So…..seems like she knows you pretty well…..,” Shinsou prompts with deep interest. He has a deep interest in everything about Bakugou’s life, actually.
Bakugou scowls. “She’s friends with my mom. Used to babysit me when I was little.”
“Ooooh, so she has valid reasons to hate you then.”
Shinsou isn’t even surprised when Bakugou punches him in the shoulder at that. “Shut the fuck up,” he grouses.
“No, you’re right,” Shinsou says, “I’m sure you were a delightful child and people should’ve counted themselves lucky to be screamed at by you.”
Shinsou would certainly enjoy being screamed at by Bakugou. Seems like it would be hot.
Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off but restrains himself from further violence in favor of leading him to a small, nearby park and they sit down on a nicely shaded bench with the food spread out between. It’s just as good as it smells and Shinsou informs Bakugou that he would happily risk getting hit by a car anytime for the scallion pancakes.
Bakugou sighs and says, “It’s happened about four times now. That intersection is cursed or some shit.”
When the food is gone, Shinsou buys them ice cream from a nearby cart. It’s adorable and picturesque and Shinsou gets an extremely cute picture of Bakugou glaring cross eyed at a smear of ice cream on the end of his nose and takes great satisfaction in setting it as his phone wallpaper with one hand as he fends off an irate Bakugou with the other.
It devolves fully into a scuffle and Bakugou gets Shinsou in a head lock while cackling triumphantly, until he catches sight of a little girl in a Dynamight tshirt approaching from the other direction with her mother. She watches them with wide eyes as she clutches her mother with one hand and a bright yellow dandelion with another. Shinsou waves cheerily from the headlock he’s made no effort to break out of. Why would he? Have you seen Bakugou’s biceps? Shinsou knows what he’s about.
Disappointingly, Bakugou lets him go almost immediately and does his best to look like the upstanding, ideal role model of a pro hero that he absolutely is not. As they pass, the little girl breaks away from her mother to run up, shove the dandelion at Bakugou, and then run back to hide behind her mother’s legs.
The gobsmacked look on Bakugou’s face is adorable and Shinsou is forced to take another picture and set that as his lock screen.
**********
Bakugou knows he has some issues with interpersonal relationships. He knows, okay. He’s even considered doing something about them. Kirishima won’t stop suggesting therapy but Bakugou isn’t prepared to go that far yet. He’s got a job and he’s got friends now somehow, despite himself, and he can have a whole five minute long conversation with his mother without resorting to shouting at each other so he thinks he’s doing pretty okay despite the issues.
Sure, he’s never dated anyone before. A fact that Mina will not shut the fuck up about. Just because she’s a romance junkie doesn’t mean everyone is, god. And Bakugou is busy. He’s a pro hero, he’s moving up the rankings, he has hobbies. He doesn’t have time for a relationship and that’s fine. And he’s absolutely not still hung up on a guy he might have sort of, maybe had a tiny crush on in high school. That would be stupid and Bakugou is the smartest person he knows.
Well….not emotionally. As Mina tells him all the time. But that’s not his fault. You try living with his mother full time for fifteen years and see how emotionally literate you turn out to be.
Anyway, the point is, Shinsou asked him out and it’s going fine. Bakugou is being so mature and emotionally regulated about it. Yes, he does know what emotional regulation is, despite popular belief to the contrary. Kirishima told him about it like three years ago and he’s been making real progress on figuring out how to apply it to his own life.
But he’s getting sidetracked now. The crux of the matter is that Bakugou didn’t mean to start stalking Shinsou. He really didn’t. It’s just that, a few days after their second date—which was extremely successful despite the initial ‘car through the restaurant’ incident because he is, in fact, the best—Shinsou cancels a date at the last minute (48 hours prior) and says its ‘because of work’. Said he “forgot” that he agreed to cover a coworker’s shift. Bull fucking shit. Bakugou didn’t get where he is in life by just believing what other people told him. Words are utterly useless. Actions are the only thing that means anything. So that’s what he pays attention to and last minute cancellations are definitely a red flag.
Besides, the man broke multiple laws to get his phone number but now suddenly a little thing like his fucking job is going to get in the way of spending time together? Fat fucking chance. The only possible explanation is that he’s hiding something and Bakugou is going to find out what it is or kill someone trying. Which is how he finds himself slouching behind a coffee cup, wearing khakis and a goddamn sweater vest—attire he normally wouldn’t be caught dead in, he looks like Icy Hot for fuck’s sake—trying desperately not to scratch at his wig, trailing several yards behind Shinsou as he walks down the street.
Work his fine fucking ass, Bakugou thinks scathingly when Shinsou stops in at a coffee shop and spends way longer than necessary (a whole 60 seconds) chatting with the barista after he hands over his drink.
Bakugou does feel a little awkward following Shinsou into the train station and then onto the train. And even more so when he watches him walk into what is clearly an undercover agency building masquerading as a generic office building. Generic office building tends to be the most common front, outside of tiny little hole in the wall restaurants that serve amazing food.
However he considers all of that and the time he spends watching the building worthwhile when he sees Shinsou exit the building only five hours later when he had told Bakugou that he would be working most of the night too. Hah. Bakugou knew he was up to something. But somehow being right about this doesn’t feel as great as it usually does. Shinsou appears completely oblivious to his shadow as he ambles down the sidewalk and after a few blocks, Bakugou watches him duck into a florist. A florist. Who the actual fuck is he buying buying flowers for? Bakugou’s fists clench and he has to do some serious deep breathing to stop himself from marching in there and publicly strangling Shinsou.
After what is definitely an unnecessary length of time, Shinsou exits the florist carrying an attractive, moderately sized pot containing a miniature rose bush covered in tiny orange blooms. Bakugou’s chest goes tight. Orange roses are his favorite flower because he’s a total fucking cliché and has also never told another living soul about this fact so clearly these aren’t for him.
Why exactly is Shinsou already seeing someone else? Is it because Bakugou hasn’t let him kiss him yet? Because that’s a privilege that has to be earned through hard work and dedication. Bakugou is a fucking catch. He deserves to be wooed for as long as he wants, goddamn it. And two measly dates, no matter how good they were, are not nearly enough to earn a kiss.
He wonders if he’s finally ranked high enough to be able to get away with one, possibly two, murders.
The awkwardness does return, somewhat, when Bakugou realizes that he is, in fact, following Shinsou and his stupid rose bush to Bakugou’s own apartment. Particularly since he now has to find a way to beat Shinsou to his apartment without looking like he’s spent the day giving in to his insecurities and fucking stalking him like an insane person, Jesus fucking Christ. What is wrong with him? What if Shinsou finds out and dumps him because he’s apparently an insane freak who decided that following his own potential boyfriend was, in fact, a first resort to his problem. Goddamn it. This is why he’s been single his whole life, isn’t it?
He can’t even fly to his apartment because his explosions are so goddamn loud. So he ends up ducking into an alley and running like his life depends on it, climbing a fire escape, and risking a couple tiny explosions to propel himself across two rooftops. His next door neighbor is hanging laundry on her balcony when he’s climbing over the edge of his own balcony and they make uncomfortable eye contact for moment.
“I forgot my key,” he blurts. Which doesn’t explain the disguise at all but she still nods slowly albeit with a suspicious squint to her eyes like she doesn’t really believe him but goes back to her laundry anyway. His hero credibility with her is probably shot now.
He has to break the lock to get in which is going to be fun to explain to his landlord but that’s a problem for future Katsuki. He tries desperately to get his breathing under control as he dashes into his bedroom, stripping off his disguise, and throwing it into the depths of his closet to deal with later. He checks himself in the mirror. His face is red and there’s sweat dripping down his hairline. He definitely looks like he just ran a couple blocks. Fuck. How much longer does he have?
His doorbell rings. He swears under his breathing, dashes out to his living room, throws a yoga mat in the general direction of his living room—maybe he can pass the breathlessness off as working out?--and skids over to yank his front door open.
“What?” he demands with a snarl and internally cringes. Why is he so himself?
He knew it was coming but it still makes something in his chest go all warm and liquidy when Shinsou breaks into a soft smile as soon as he sees him and says, “Hi, angel, I got you an apology gift” then hands him the pot.
The roses are even prettier up close. Vibrant orange with buttery soft petals and a delicate fragrance. Bakugou doesn’t really know what to do with the feeling creeping up his throat as he stares down at the flowers. It kind of makes him want to punch Shinsou in the face and then maybe kiss him until he forgets his own name.
But even he knows that punching your sort of maybe boyfriend when he brings you flowers is a bad look.
“What the fuck is this,” is what he demands instead. Damn it.
“Flowers, because I had to cancel our date,” Shinsou replies promptly, “Orange is your color right? And you seem like a rose person, because you’re so pretty and you always smell nice.”
The urge to throttle him grows stronger. Or is that the urge to kiss him? Bakugou can’t really tell. All he knows is that he can feel his face going up in flames. He hates that he blushes so easily. Its embarrassing.
“I thought you had to work all night,” he says gruffly, to cover his embarrassment.
“I was supposed to but apparently there was a scheduling mix up and someone else had already been assigned to cover the shift so I got to leave early. I figured I’d stop by just in case you were home and still wanted to hang out.”
Shinsou looks so hopeful and he really does have such a stupidly nice face that Bakugou can’t help but zone out for a second staring at him. Then he realizes he’s been standing there, dumbfounded and probably with a stupid look on his own face, while Shinsou waits patiently in the hall just outside his doorway. He pulls the door open further and covers his awkwardness by barking at him to come in already. Shinsou looks around his apartment curiously and Bakugou realizes abruptly that this is the first time he’s been in his apartment and immediately regrets not slamming the door in his face.
He wasn’t prepared for visitors and it shows. The whole apartment is a wreck. There’s a blanket tangled up on his couch and half falling onto the floor. He left a mug of tea his side table last night because he was too lazy to put it away before he went to bed. His work bag is in a heap on the floor next to the door instead of hung neatly on its hook and he doesn’t even want to think about the state of his kitchen with its chopsticks in the sink and his second best cutting board left out on the counter.
What if Shinsou notices that he hasn’t dusted all week? And there’s a pile of unopened mail on his coffee table. Ugh, he’s a fucking disaster.
“It’s so neat,” Shinsou says after a moment, “you must clean all the time.”
Bakugou despairs to think about what that comment implies about the state of Shinsou’s own apartment. He’s probably got a sinkful of dirty dishes and flat surfaces covered in clutter. Bakugou bets Shinsou doesn’t even dust the blades of his ceiling fan. It’s a sobering thought.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou manages and stomps away to find somewhere to put the plant. He leaves Shinsou in his disgrace of a living room because apparently the man’s sense of household cleanliness is subpar at best so he’s not going to be casting any judgment. Which is fine. Bakugou can judge enough for the both of them.
He ends up putting it with all the other plants on his balcony, although it is kind of hard to find a clear space. There are a lot of plants. He surveys it critically. If he moves the fern to the chair and the begonia under the tiny little table then he can probably squeeze the rose in next to the herb pot.
“Wow,” Shinsou says, coming up behind him—and Bakugou does not jump, thank you very much—and peering out the door. “You have your own personal jungle out there.” He steps out on the balcony which put him right up in Bakugou’s space because there’s not exactly enough room for two full grown men out there and puts a hand on Bakugou’s back to steady himself as he leans around him to look at the herb pot closer. Bakugou freezes.
Shinsou is touching him. What does he do?
An answer fails entirely to present itself so he just stands there, like an idiot, unable to focus on anything except the hand currently burning into his spine.
Shinsou stands there for a minute, inspecting the plants. He reaches out a hand and rubs it over a leaf on his lavender plant and sniffs appreciatively at the soothing fragrance it leaves behind. Bakugou himself likes to do the same thing when he gets especially stressed. He has a sudden wild thought of rubbing the scent into the hollow of Shinsou’s throat and then shoving his face in there.
He’s losing it. That’s the only explanation. The stress of surviving a war and being a pro hero has finally gotten to him and he’s lost his mind for good.
Shinsou turns back to him. “So did you still want to go see a movie or no? There’s that new documentary about forests across Japan out that you’d probably like.”
Bakugou does really want to see that, as a matter of fact, but a movie opens up the thorny new scenario of sitting next to Shinsou in a dark theater for roughly an hour and a half where he’ll stress about whether or not he’s supposed to hold his hand so much that he misses the movie.
“Or we could go to the park?” Shinsou suggests when the silence goes on a little too long. Like he can sense Bakugou’s conflict.
Bakugou does consider it for a few minutes but then he thinks that if Shinsou tries to hold his hand while they take that scenic route around the pond that he likes, there’s a good possibility that Bakugou will freak out and push him into the pond. Which leads him to the thought of Shinsou soaking wet and how he might fail to handle that reasonably as well.
Shinsou knocks gently on his head with his knuckles and peers down at his face. “Um, hello? Are you still in there?”
Bakugou yanks his head away, cheeks coloring. “Shut up,” he says gruffly, “We’ll go to the movies.”
In the end, Shinsou doesn’t hold his hand in the theater because, in order to avoid dealing with his very confused and conflicted feelings about it, Bakugou keeps his hands busy with the popcorn bucket the whole time. Shinsou does however, hook their ankles together and move the armrest so he can lean into Bakugou’s side and some of the popcorn does get a little extra crispy when Bakugou can’t stop his hands from sparking, just a tiny bit, at the contact.
If Shinsou notices, he’s kind enough not to say anything about it.
**********
A few days after their movie date, Shinsou is assigned a mission that should last approximately a week and half but has the potential to stretch to two weeks. Not very long in the grand scheme of things. He’s been undercover for months before. But its the first mission of any length since he and Bakugou started dating and he’s worried.
What if Bakugou forgets about him? What if he finds someone else? What if he meets someone sane and they hit it off and start dating and get married and, by the time Shinsou gets back, they’re living in a split level in the suburbs with a white picket fence and 2.5 cats?
“Do you think maybe you’re catastrophizing a little bit?” his partner, Slither, asks around her cigarette. Shinsou doesn’t know her real name and he would put money on anyone whoever did being dead. She’s been working the underground scene for over fifteen years, chain smokes like the world is ending, has the most classified record in the whole agency, and wouldn’t care if he dropped dead right in front of her. So obviously he goes to her with all of the problems Aizawa tells him he’s old enough to deal with himself.
“When have I ever catastrophized anything?!”
“Right now.” He tries to snag the pack of cigarettes from her pants pocket and she shoves him over in the dirt. He accepts it as his lot in life and moves on. Face down on dirty concrete is really the ideal place to have a crisis.
“What should I do,” he whines.
She prods him with her boot until he flops over on his back. “Stop talking to me like I care, mainly.”
Shinsou gives her his best, most pathetic, beseeching eyes. “Can you watch him for me,” he asks hopefully, “Just let me know if anyone starts sniffing around so I can swing by and kill them. It probably wouldn’t take that long. I’d be back before anyone noticed I was gone.”
She snorts. “Fuck no. Unlike you, I actually have a life outside of this shit.”
That shocks him out of his spiral a little. “Really?” This is the most personal information that he’s ever gotten out of her in their three years of working together. He’s fascinated. “Doing what?”
She blows a lungful of smoke at his face. “You’re not old enough to know.”
“I’m twenty two!”
“Yeah, an infant, like I said.”
“Are you a dominatrix in your off time?” He could totally see that. If he didn’t have Bakugou, he’d probably be asking to see that. They’d never find his body, of course, if he did. But he thinks it might be worth it.
She waves a hand dismissively, “As if. I take pain seriously.”
“Wow, Slither, you’re sooo hard core. I hope I can be as cool as you one day.”
She flicks her cigarette ashes onto his bare arm. “Go give that lip to someone who wants it, Nightbitch.”
As if on cue, his phone rings with the tone he picked out special for Bakugou. If the man himself ever hears it then Shinsou is probably dead but what the hell, dancing with death is his favorite hobby. He scrapes his elbow in his haste to get his phone out of his back pocket and Slither laughs meanly. He flips her off….but only in his head. He doesn’t actually have a death wish. Well, not now that he’s got Bakugou, he doesn’t.
“Sweetheart,” he croons.
“Eat shit,” Bakugou replies. Shinsou is unfazed.
“But I’d much rather eat you.” Slither makes retching noises in the background.
He can imagine the look on Bakugou’s face. They haven’t done anything more than hug once—well, Shinsou had wrapped his arms around him and squeezed and Bakugou had patted him tentatively on the back and then turned a shade of red hitherto unseen in nature—which is fine, he’s happy to move at Bakugou’s pace, but Shinsou thinks its important that Bakugou know how much he wants him at all times. And not just because he looks delicious when he’s flustered. He’s beginning to suspect that there’s a lot of insecurities there.
“You leave tomorrow, right?”
“Unfortunately, angel. I promise I’ll miss you terribly.” He hopes his tone conveys how much he wants to be petting Bakugou’s hair and feeding him grapes instead of doing literally anything else right now. Slither mimes choking herself.
He can picture the look on Bakugou’s face at the endearment and really wishes he was there to lick it off his face. Or at least staring longingly at him while he thinks about licking it off.
“Come over after your shift tonight.”
“Anything you say, incandescently enraged light of my life.” Bakugou hangs up on him.
Shinsou stares dreamily down at his phone. “He’s so perfect,” he sighs and then snaps back to the problem at hand. “Help me,” he begs, “you know I’m pathetic. What if I lose him?”
“Ugggggghhhh,” she groans loud and long but squats down next to him. “What would you do if this was a work problem?” And then flicks her cigarette ashes onto his bare arm. Again.
“Set up a network of surveillance cameras and microphones to monitor from a remote location until it was time to kill someone,” he recites promptly, brushing the ashes off. She didn’t even put it out on his skin this time. He’s definitely growing on her.
She nods once emphatically, “There you have it.”
He sighs in relief. He knew she’d help him find a solution. “You’re so right. I should always just go with what I know.”
She rolls her eyes and mutters something about the idiocy of the youth then she drags him up by the hair and shoves him towards to stairs. “Now go finish your paperwork before you leave or you won’t live long enough to kill your competition.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says obediently because he knows that drives her insane.
He retrieves his cup of coffee from by the door on his way down and she drops her cigarette butt in it. He watches it bob to the surface sadly. Thank god he has Bakugou or he’d probably do something stupid like ask her to step on him.
That evening, Bakugou actually lets him get as far as holding his hand so he waltzes off to his mission feeling extremely at peace with life in general. And when he gets back he’s relieved to see that Bakugou has found neither someone new nor the camera he’d planted in his kitchen. He’d wanted to put one in his living room as well but was worried that would be too forward. He didn’t want to seem like he was trying to move too fast, after all. They’re still very new.