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Hitoshi is silently seething. Badly. He's gritting his teeth, his fists are clenched and he's contemplating murder as he watches hands touch what is his.
Murder is the only way, Hitoshi is certain of it, and he'll make it hurt. He'll make it brutal. And if those hands don't stop right the fuck now, then he'll add in at least three days of torture, just to really drive the point home before he dismembers the offending body part into as many pieces as he can.
It'll be violent and vicious and absolutely inhumane and it will get him a spot on the front page of every news paper and his stint in prison will be for life, but it will all be worth it.
Because Bakugou is touching what is his and jealousy burns on his skin, with an undercurrent of pure, cold hatred running right underneath and going by the smirk Bakugou gives him, he knows exactly what he's doing.
"You good there, eyebags?" Bakugou asks, as if nothing at all is wrong, as if his hands aren't still touching what is Hitoshi's, as if he's not still holding what Hitoshi has longed to hold for weeks now, and there's so much rage inside of him it's hard to speak.
"Peachy," he still presses out, because he kind of has to with Bakugou's knowing gaze on him and there's a desperate part of Hitoshi that wonders what the fuck he did wrong.
Because Garbage is laid out on Bakugou's lap, stretched as long as she can get, purring up a storm as Bakugou pets her and Hitoshi is so fucking jealous, he's going to vibrate right out of his skin.
He's had Garbage for close to a month now; picked up the shivering, thin bundle right out of an alleyway only to realise at home that she's half feral and then he had dedicated his entire time to get her to trust him.
Only to get nowhere. She hides from him, she looks at him with distrust, she barely even takes food he offers directly from his hands and he definitely has not been allowed to touch her at all.
And here comes Bakugou, sitting down on his usual spot on the couch after having been banned from the apartment for weeks to give Garbage time to settle, and to Hitoshi's absolute despair, Garbage had gone right up to him and cuddled up to Bakugou as if she never did anything else.
Hitoshi wants to strangle him and his fingers twitch with the need.
Bakugou's smirk only widens.
"It would make her sad," he says with a pointed look at the cat as if he can read the hostile intent right off Hitoshi's posture and Hitoshi forces himself to relax.
"Fuck off," he still grumbles out and tears his gaze away from Bakugou and the way he still pets Garbage so sweetly. "I hate you."
"Yeah, yeah, tell that to someone who cares," Bakugou replies and he must be petting a particularly good spot because Garbage's purring doubles in intensity.
And just like that, all that hate turns into despair.
"What did I do wrong?" Hitoshi whines out and flops himself over on the couch. "I tried everything but she hates me!"
It's not even an exaggeration—his arms are littered with scratch marks because every time he manages to get close to her and tries to touch her she swipes at him and despite his occupation his reflexes don't seem to work when it comes to cats.
"Have you considered that maybe you're just not likeable?" Bakugou mildly asks and Hitoshi pouts harder at him.
He knows it's not true—Hitoshi is very likeable, thank you very much. Every visit at the local cat café proves it, because he can barely save himself from all the cats trying to climb over him and besides—
"You're here, aren't you?" he asks, because Bakugou likes hardly anyone and he's even more particular about where he spends his free time and the fact that he's practically a permanent resident in Hitoshi's apartment, so much so that their friends come looking for Bakugou here first before trying his own damn apartment, speaks for itself anyway.
His only reply is a roll of eyes, and Hitoshi grins because he knows there's nothing Bakugou can really say to that anyway.
The couch basically holds an imprint of his ass these days, with how often he's over.
"Maybe you traumatised her when you took her," Bakugou muses, scratching at Garbage's ear and Hitoshi whines high in his throat.
He wants to do that, too.
"I took her out of the garbage," he reminds Bakugou, who gives him a look for it.
"And then you named her exactly that. Ever consider that she might be mad at you?"
"I saved her," Hitoshi reiterates and Bakugou snorts out a laugh.
"Quit your whining, she'll come around," he chastises Hitoshi and then consideringly tilts his head.
"You're thinking. I don't like it when you think," Hitoshi grumbles, because Bakugou thinking is dangerous.
He's too smart for his own good and no matter what is going to come out of his mouth next it's sure to fuck with Hitoshi, because Bakugou takes pleasure in fucking with him on purpose.
Bastard.
Hitoshi loves him dearly.
"I hate to even say this but gimme a change of your clothes. Worn, if it's not reeking too much," Bakugou says, his lip twitching up in distaste and Hitoshi can't help it, he simply has to laugh at how displeased he seems even by the idea of it.
Still, he pushes himself up and does as Bakugou asked, because why the fuck not and when he throws a worn shirt and his oldest sweatpants right into Bakugou's face, he immensely enjoys his sputtering.
"Fucker," Bakugou grumbles, but gently dislodges Garbage and vanishes into the bathroom.
Hitoshi busies himself with trying to get Garbage's attention, but she sniffs at him once and then promptly swipes at him for good measure, too, and so when Bakugou steps out of the bathroom again, clad in Hitoshi's clothes, he finds him hunched on the floor, sucking on a sluggishly bleeding cut on his hand and immediately, he hunches over with his laughter.
"I left you alone for five minutes," he finally gets out, amusement so clearly etched into his face as Hitoshi pouts at him and tries not to think too much about the fact that Bakugou is wearing his clothes.
That way lies madness after all.
"Took me two to make a dumb decision," he finally gives back, dejectedly watching how new beads of blood well up and Bakugou sighs before he goes right back into the bathroom, only to come back with disinfectant spray and a band-aid.
"Hand," he demands and Hitoshi obediently holds it out, watching how Bakugou cleans the cut and then places the band-aid over it with more care than one would expect.
Hitoshi decides to focus on Garbage instead on how fast his heart is beating.
"Now what?" he demands to know, trying to forget how warm Bakugou's hands had felt on his and Bakugou sighs.
"And now we see if this works," he says and then holds his hand out to Garbage.
She comes closer with much less hesitation than she usually does for Hitoshi, but as soon as she's close enough to be touched she tenses and then swipes at Bakugou, too.
Except he's quick enough to yank his hand back so he comes out unscathed.
"Mh," Bakugou hums and gets back up. "I'll be back," he then declares and marches right out of Hitoshi's apartment, clothes and all.
Hitoshi can do nothing but stare dumbly after him because what the fuck just happened?
He has half a mind bombarding Bakugou's phone with message after message but he left it laying on Hitoshi's table, so there would be no use to that.
It means he will be back though, so Hitoshi settles back onto the couch, glaring at Garbage when she moves around him in a wide arch and even though it takes Bakugou barely forty minutes to come back, it feels like the longest stretch of time of Hitoshi's life.
"Wear this," Bakugou says as soon as he lets himself into Hitoshi's apartment again and then he's being hit with a face full of clothes.
"What the fuck," Hitoshi grumbles and glares at Bakugou. "I could have just worn your old shit," he says with a nod to the bathroom, because Bakugou is still very much in Hitoshi's clothes, which means there's a set of Bakugou’s clothes laying around anyway.
"I like that shirt and you're just going to stretch it out with your freakishly broad shoulders, so no thank you," Bakugou almost haughtily replies and Hitoshi hunches his shoulders on instinct.
They are not even that broad—it's not his fault that Bakugou barely grew since high-school and that Hitoshi had a late growing spurt.
"Rude," he huffs out, before he vanishes into his bedroom to get changed and he does not think about the fact that he's suddenly, somehow, wearing Bakugou's clothes, while Bakugou is still wearing Hitoshi's clothes because that way lays madness and Hitoshi fought too hard for his mental health to throw it all out of the window like this.
When he comes back out of his room, sanity still intact, he finds Bakugou in a staring match with Garbage.
"Serves you right," Hitoshi mutters, because Garbage seems hell-bent on no longer coming close to Bakugou but to Hitoshi's surprise, Bakugou only smiles at him.
"Sit," he orders him and Hitoshi lowers himself down with a groan.
And then he instantly freezes when Garbage comes up to him and climbs into his lap before she turns three times and then makes herself at home.
"What the fuck is happening?" he whispers out, completely still and too afraid to scare her off. "What. The actual. Fuck. Is happening."
"You need to change your detergent. And all of your shower stuff that comes with a scent," Bakugou says and Hitoshi's gaze flits over to him.
"What?"
"You're stuff has lavender in it, right?" Bakugou guesses as if he doesn't know that and still, Hitoshi nods. "It's toxic for cats and I guess she doesn't like the smell of it because of that. You have to change it out."
Hitoshi blinks.
"That's it? That's the solution?"
"Probably," Bakugou shrugs and nods towards Garbage, who is purring in Hitoshi's lap. "I mean, look at her."
Hitoshi is. He very much is and for one stupid moment he feels like crying because Garbage doesn't hate him but he swallows it all down.
"I'll get unscented stuff," he mutters and carefully pets Garbage.
"I know you like your lavender, but—" Bakugou trails off with a wry smile. "You gotta choose here."
"Yeah, I guess I do," Hitoshi gives back, no longer meeting Bakugou's eyes, because in all honesty, he couldn't care less about what his stuff is smelling like.
He's still using the lavender scented everything because once, Bakugou commented that he likes that scent and Hitoshi is nothing but stupid and hopeless and so desperately in love that it hurts some days.
But Bakugou can never know about it and by now Hitoshi is reasonably sure that they are good enough friends that Bakugou will still come over even though Hitoshi is no longer smelling like lavender and if it gets him Garbage's love then maybe it will cancel out.
"Thank you," he finally says, because without Bakugou he would probably never have figured this out but to his surprise, Bakugou isn't quite meeting his gaze anymore.
"Yeah, whatever, troll doll, I was sick and tired of seeing you mope around," he grumbles but his voice lacks his usual bite and Hitoshi doesn't know what to do with that. "I better get changed," he then adds and moves to get up, but Hitoshi speaks before he can stop himself.
"You don't have to," he blurts out and Bakugou freezes right where he is.
"You want me—to keep wearing your stinky clothes?" he wants to know and Hitoshi can feel himself flush to the roots of his hair.
"I just—it's—"
He can't help the way his gaze goes over Bakugou, taking in how he looks in Hitoshi's clothes and it makes him stupid so no more words come out of his mouth.
"Oh," Bakugou breathes out and then—to Hitoshi's absolute surprise—he spots a faint blush on Bakugou's cheeks. "You just don't want me to steal her attention away again," Bakugou says after a moment and it's as good an explanation as any, so Hitoshi nods, biting his lip so he doesn't blurt out anything else stupid and Bakugou settles himself back down with a sigh.
"Idiot," he mumbles and he's so close that their sides are pressed together and Hitoshi goes hot all over because Bakugou is not moving away.
So he must have done that intentionally.
So he must want to be this close to Hitoshi.
So that must mean—
"You said lavender is your favourite," Hitoshi blurts out, like the stupid idiot he is and Garbage blinks up at him with the most judging look of all times.
Bakugou flushes even more at that but he also presses closer and Hitoshi fears he understood exactly what Hitoshi was trying to tell him.
"It is," Bakugou finally admits. "Just like purple is."
"Oh," Hitoshi breathes out and, well.
Maybe it's as easy as this.
"Mine's red. And blond. And orange. And explosions," Hitoshi stammers out and for a moment, Bakugou freezes before he starts to chuckle.
"You're so stupid," he gives back but it sounds so fond that Hitoshi doesn't even mind. "And Garbage is judging you hard," Bakugou mutters and leans even further into Hitoshi's side.
Well, yes. Garbage is judging Hitoshi, but she's doing so from her spot in his lap and Bakugou is pressed to his side with a very fond look on his face even as he reaches out to scratch Garbage's tiny little head and Hitoshi.
Well, he doesn't mind this one bit.