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Shouto doesn’t want to kiss Katsuki.
That would be—
That would be stupid. And ridiculous. And absurd. And—and if he did want to kiss Katsuki, that would mean he’s acting like an omega.
Which—
To be fair, he is.
But he doesn’t understand it. He can’t figure it out. He didn’t even grow up around nee-san, so she could teach him. So she could show him all about scent patches and how to handle heat cramps and how to pick out the right kind of chocolate so his cravings don’t make him all puffy from the sugar and end up making his cramps hurt worse.
He didn’t have anyone around when he presented.
He just had himself.
Himself, and whatever scant luck having a handy little quirk got him.
At least he could heat up his palms when the heat cramps hurt too much. And making ice would help with the fever. And a small part of him was glad. At least he wasn’t an alpha like Endeavor.
At least he had a chip, shiny masterpiece that he was.
But now—
Now the world is quiet, and Shouto’s heart isn’t.
Mina was just teasing him, he knows. They were all passing around those mildly disgusting low-alcohol beers with fruit flavors, because apparently the salesgirl squinted a little too hard at Denki’s fake ID and that was all she would sell him, so Shouto isn’t even sure what the actual alcohol percentage on them was, or if they had any to begin with, but—
They were just hanging out.
So he really doesn’t think Mina meant to make his heart leap out of his chest when she poked his cheek and said, “You want to kiss Bakugou, don’t you?”
(He doesn’t think she meant to, but she did.)
Because—
Because for one second—for one stupid and inadvisable and delirious second—Shouto did think yes. He did think I do. He did think, ridiculously, isn’t he supposed to kiss me, since I’m the omega?
And now he’s up in his dorm room, sulking with the door locked.
Like Katsuki was going to chase after him. Like they’re in one of those lighthearted, cheeesy romantic comedies he and Momo watch curled up together on the common room couch Friday nights after everyone else goes to bed. The ones where the pretty omegas are all unreasonably kind and impossibly down on their luck and also struggling with employment—almost always in journalism, for some reason—and then they meet the Perfect Alpha and that Perfect Alpha is handsome and a great kisser and a great cook and a great—uh. Everything, really, so they kiss, and sometimes get married, and they always, always drive off into the sunset.
(That part seems nice. The sunset. And having somewhere to drive to. A reason to leave the only home you’ve ever known behind so you can try something new.)
They’re not.
They’re definitely not in a romantic comedy.
Shouto knows that much.
He and Katsuki aren’t anything. They’re nothing at all, and whatever strange, silly omega things Shouto’s heart keeps doing around him wouldn’t justify marching up to kiss him.
Even under the influence of 0.5% strawberry beer.
So.
Now, Shouto is, admittedly, sulking.
And then there’s a knock on his door.
“Go away,” Shouto says. “I’m fine.”
It’s probably Momo, anyway. Or Ochako. They don’t take his sulking personally, rare and mostly Katsuki-motivated as it is. Besides, isn’t seventeen the right age to sulk, anyway? And, uh, be a dancing queen?
“No,” says a voice much deeper than Momo’s. “You’re not. So open the door, half ‘n half.”
“Go away,” Shouto says. He sulks harder. Katsuki can’t see it, so there’s really no point, but— “I told you. I’m fine.”
He does it anyway. Maybe he’s just stubborn. Bad at being an omega, or whatever.
“Open this door before sensei has to send my parents a bill for property damage, candy cane princess.”
Shouto shivers.
It’s so stupid. But Katsuki sounds so alpha. And whatever is made up of raw, primal instinct inside him—his ancient brain wiring or whatever it actually is—responds to it. Evolution. Adaptation. Or maybe just—some big red X in some dark corner where nobody is supposed to step foot, and Katsuki has already made a home.
Is that stupid?
Or is it just an omega thing?
Handing yourself over without being asked?
Either way, Shouto opens the door.
“Hi,” he says. And then, stupidly, “You don’t have to kiss me.”
The tips of Katsuki’s ears go red. He’s close enough for Shouto to notice, even in the dim hallway light. (He could come closer, if he wanted.)
“That’s my line,” Katsuki says. “I heard what Mina said. I don’t—fuck. She knows, okay, and I’m trying not to be a creep about it, because I can take a fucking hint, sweetheart, but I just. I just look at you sometimes, and I feel like I’m losing my mind, you know?”
“Mm.” Shouto nods. “I thought that was just an omega thing,” he says. “I think about you biting me a lot. About your teeth. How they’d feel on my neck. On my mating gland. Breaking skin. I think about you during my heats. When it hurts a lot. I think you’d make it better. I think you’d make it good. I—um, sometimes I think about giving you pups. About you coming home and telling me how much worked sucked and how everyone’s an idiot, and then I’d smile and tell you the pup kicked a lot today, alpha or something like that, and we’d—ah. It’s silly.”
“We’d what?”
“We’d be happy, I think. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m any good at being an omega.”
“You’re perfect,” Katsuki blurts. And then, “You’re all I want, you stupid pretty boy.”
“You’ll have to teach me,” Shouto says. “Okay? So I can be a good omega for you.”
Katsuki shakes his head. “You already are,” he says. And then—oh. And then he puts a hand on the back of Shouto’s neck and tugs him closecloseclose.
It’s warm.
And a little wet.
But mostly warm.
Shouto’s stomach flutters. But his heart, for once, is quiet. It’s warm here, in Katsuki’s arms. Comfortable. Shouto wants to stay forever.
“Sure.” Katsuki laughs. “You can, you know.”
Oh.
He said that out loud.
“I think I like kissing,” Shouto blurts, face warm. “Can we do it more? Inside? With the door locked?”
“Anything you want, sweetheart,” Katsuki says. “I’ll give you anything you want. It’s real easy when it’s you.”
Well—
That sounds pretty nice.
“Even pups?” Shouto asks. “When we’re a little older?”
“Sure,” Katsuki says. “But we gotta start practicing now. I’m sure as hell not gonna half-ass it.”
Shouto laughs. And he keeps laughing when Katsuki pushes him back inside and kicks the door closed and tosses him onto his own bed. Because it’s Katsuki, so it’s okay.
And Shouto wants to kiss him.
He wants to kiss him again. He wants to kiss him more. He wants to kiss him forever and ever and ever.
(You know, like in the movies.
Except better.)
“Hey,” Shouto says, “you didn’t actually like that pineapple beer, did you?”
“Halfie,” Katsuki says. “Shut up.”
And then he nips at Shouto’s throat, so Shouto does.