Work Text:
Bakugo Katsuki hated Christmas decorations.
They were everywhere, lights strung too low, garlands taped crookedly, and mistletoe hung in places it had absolutely no business being. He didn’t care about the holiday. He cared even less about Mina’s enthusiasm for it.
So when he rounded the corner of the dorm hallway and nearly collided with Izuku Midoriya, he was already in a bad mood.
“Tch. Watch it,” Bakugo snapped.
Izuku stopped short, clutching his notebook. “S–sorry, Kacchan.”
That should have been it.
Izuku stepped aside without argument, like he always did now. No yelling. No snapping back. Just that calm, earnest acceptance that somehow irritated
Bakugo more than if he’d fought him.
Bakugo paused.
“You were talking to Aizawa earlier,” he said, more sharply than necessary.
Izuku blinked. “Uh, yeah. About patrol rotations.”
“Figures,” Bakugo muttered. “You always doing that. Acting like everyone needs you to manage things.”
Izuku frowned slightly, not defensive, just confused. “I was just passing on information.”
“Yeah,” Bakugo shot back. “That’s what you always say.”
Izuku hesitated, then spoke quietly. “If I did something wrong… just tell me.”
The words weren’t challenging.
They were open.
Bakugo’s jaw clenched. He stepped closer before he consciously decided to.
“You don’t get it,” he growled. “You never do.”
Izuku didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t step away either. He just looked at Bakugo with that infuriating concern that made his chest feel tight.
“…Then explain it to me,” Izuku said.
They stopped beneath the beam at the entrance to the common room.
Bakugo noticed it immediately.
Mistletoe.
Green leaves. White berries. Red ribbon.
Of course.
Izuku hadn’t seen it yet.
Bakugo’s thoughts tangled, irritation, frustration, and something sharper underneath that he refused to name. Words crowded his throat, useless and wrong. He didn’t know how to explain anything. He never had.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
Before Izuku could ask what he meant, Bakugo grabbed the front of his hoodie and yanked him forward.
“K–Kacchan?!”
Bakugo kissed him.
It was abrupt. Messy. All heat and impulse, like he was trying to force the feeling out of his system instead of naming it. No finesse. No warning. Just a snap decision fueled by too many things he’d never sorted through.
Izuku froze.
For half a second, Bakugo thought he’d crossed a line he couldn’t come back from.
Then Izuku’s hands came up, not pushing him away, just gripping
Bakugo’s sleeves, startled and unsteady.
That was enough.
Bakugo broke the kiss just as suddenly, breath sharp, eyes wide.
“…Forget that,” he snapped.
Izuku stared at him, stunned, face burning red. He didn’t yell. Didn’t accuse. Just stood there, trying to process what had just happened.
Bakugo pointed at him like it was a threat. “You didn’t see anything. You didn’t feel anything. You don’t talk about it. Ever.”
Izuku swallowed. “…Kacchan-”
Bakugo’s glare sharpened. “I’m serious.”
He stepped back, jaw tight, clearly already regretting everything except the one thing he couldn’t take back.
“Stupid decorations,” he muttered, shoving past Izuku.
Bakugo stormed down the hallway without looking back, shoulders tense like he was bracing for an explosion that never came.
Izuku stayed where he was.
Under the mistletoe.
Heart racing. Thoughts colliding. Lips still warm in a way he absolutely was not prepared to think about.
Slowly, he looked up.
“…Oh,” he whispered.
The mistletoe swayed gently above him, smug and unapologetic.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway again.
Izuku flinched.
“Hey,” Eijiro Kirishima said. “You okay, man?”
Izuku looked up to see Kirishima standing a few paces away, towel slung over his shoulder, hair still damp from a shower. His eyes flicked between Izuku’s face and the empty hallway
Bakugo had disappeared down.
“He just blasted past me,” Kirishima added. “Looked like he was about to punch a wall.”
Izuku nodded weakly. “H–he was just annoyed.”
Kirishima hummed, unconvinced, then followed Izuku’s gaze upward.
“…Oh,” he said slowly. “That explains a lot.”
Izuku flushed. “Nothing happened.”
Kirishima gave him a look that was kind, but knowing. “Midoriya. When Bakugo’s just mad, he yells. When he’s embarrassed, he explodes at something random.” He shrugged. “When he panics? He runs.”
Izuku’s chest tightened. “…Oh.”
“I’m not asking,” Kirishima said quickly.
“You don’t have to tell me anything.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But he doesn’t lose control like that unless something important hits him sideways.”
Important.
The word lodged itself somewhere uncomfortable.
“I should go check he doesn’t break something,” Kirishima added.
Izuku managed a small, nervous laugh.
“Y-yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”
Kirishima turned to leave, then paused.
“Hey. Whatever that was, don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He jogged off after Bakugo.
Izuku was alone again.
The hallway felt too quiet now, until voices drifted from the common room.
“Did Bakugo just-?”
“Shh.”
“Don’t start.”
Izuku exhaled, grateful for the restraint.
Class 1-A noticed everything, but sometimes, rarely, they chose not to push.
Another set of footsteps approached, lighter this time.
“…Midoriya?” Tsuyu Asui asked from the corner.
Izuku startled. “A–Asui?”
She stopped a few steps away, eyes observant as ever. Her gaze flicked to the mistletoe, then back to him.
“You look shaken,” she said calmly.
“Ribbit.”
“I’m fine,” Izuku replied automatically.
Tsuyu tilted her head. “You don’t sound fine.”
Izuku hesitated, then shook his head.
“I-I’m just tired.”
She studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay. I won’t pry.”
Relief loosened his shoulders.
As she turned to leave, Tsuyu added quietly, “Bakugo doesn’t panic often.”
Izuku’s heart thudded.
She walked away without another word.
Izuku stayed where he was for a long moment, staring down the hallway where Bakugo had disappeared. He replayed the second, just one second, when Bakugo had hesitated before pulling away. The way his grip had tightened, then let go like it hurt to keep holding on.
Slowly, Izuku reached up and tugged the mistletoe down.
He turned it over in his fingers, leaves cool and waxy, ribbon slightly frayed where it had been tied too tight.
A door slammed somewhere distant.
Izuku closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and tucked the mistletoe into his pocket instead of throwing it away.
Because whatever Bakugo said-
Whatever he threatened-
This wasn’t something either of them were forgetting.
Not tonight.