Chapter Text
To say Katsuki is annoyed is the understatement of the century. He’s fucking pissed.
He is in class, trying to mind his own business when Todoroki approaches Deku and instead of greeting the guy like a normal person would, he goes and asks, “Midoriya, can I please have your scarf?”
Confused, the nerd blinks a few times and goes, “Huh, what?”
“Your scarf, can I have it?”
Todoroki holds out his hand, palm up, as if he’s demanding the thing. Deku automatically starts taking it off, then hesitates.
“Wait, why? You have one already.” He gestures to said scarf wrapped around Todoroki’s neck. “Ah, is it wet because of the rain? Is that why you need a new one?”
“No, it’s fine. I want yours for another reason.”
“What reason?”
“My nest.”
Deku’s breath hitches and he gasps, and Katsuki kind of wants to punch him.
“You… Y-You want my scent… on your nest?” he asks, now a shit ton of shades of red.
“Yes, please.” Todoroki deadpans, eyes moving briefly to his palm still placed up, impatiently.
“Sure, Shou-chan! Here!” He scrambles awkwardly to unroll the scarf from around his neck. “Do you need something else? I can–”
“No, that’s all. Thanks.”
And just like that, the omega goes back to the end of class, where he carefully wraps the scarf in a plastic bag from a random-ass konbini, and puts it in his bag, ignoring all the inquiring eyes on him.
“Damn, Midoriya, I didn’t know you guys were that close. Well, congratulations, man!” Fucking Sero says and taps Deku in the shoulder, as if this was his most valuable achievement so far.
Deku can only gape like a fish, still comically red in the face.
And Katsuki is fucking pissed.
He just doesn’t understand why.
The problem, Katsuki decides, is that Todoroki is fucking weird.
That's not news. Everyone knows that. The guy once asked if the school cafeteria served raw eggs because he'd heard that cooking them destroyed their nutritional value, and he'd said it with such a straight face that half the class had spent the next ten minutes wondering if that was actually true.
But this? This is a new level of weird.
The scarf incident happens on a Tuesday, and Katsuki spends the rest of the day thinking about it. Not on purpose, obviously. He's got better things to do than think about half and half's stupid fucking scarf collection, or his nest, or the fact that he'd apparently decided Midoriya's beta scent belonged in it.
It's just that every time Katsuki closes his eyes, he sees that stupid little exchange.
My nest.
The dumbass said this in front of everyone, as if asking for a personal item from someone wasn’t a big deal. Like he was asking to borrow a pencil. And Katsuki may not know much about omegas, but even he knows having a scented piece of cloth in an omega’s nest is a huge deal.
And Midoriya, the fucking idiot, had practically melted into a puddle on the spot.
Katsuki grinds his teeth.
And then Wednesday happens.
Katsuki is halfway through his breakfast when Todoroki approaches Iida at the table next to him.
“Class Representative.”
Iida straightens immediately. “Yes, Todoroki?”
“Can I have an item of yours?”
“Oh, like what?”
“Something you've used recently would be preferable. A handkerchief, perhaps.”
Iida blinks. “You want my handkerchief?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose, may I ask?”
“It’s for my nest.”
Iida's entire face turns pink. “O-Oh! I see! Well, if it's for a practical purpose, I’ll be honored to offer you my handkerchief.”
The alpha proceeds to take the item from a hidden pocket inside his top uniform and gives it to Todoroki, who accepts it with both hands, folds it neatly, and puts it in his front pocket.
“Thank you.”
Katsuki watches the exchange, then looks at Iida, who still looks as though someone has informed him he’s been selected for a prestigious government position. Then he looks down at his breakfast.
Suddenly, he isn't hungry anymore.
On Thursday, it's Yaoyorozu.
Of course it's fucking Yaoyorozu.
She's sitting at her desk, reviewing something on her tablet, when Todoroki approaches her with that blank expression of his.
“Yaoyorozu, could you make me a small cloth pouch?”
“Yeah, sure! What would you like it made of?”
“Something that retains scent well.”
Katsuki freezes.
Across the room, Yaoyorozu asks Todoroki what size he'd like the pouch to be. He answers that a small one would be okay and then she offers to make two, just in case.
Then, because the universe apparently hates Katsuki personally, Todoroki says, “Could you scent one of them first?”
Katsuki's pencil snaps.
Ashido, seated beside him, slowly turns her head.
“Interesting,” she whispers.
Katsuki ignores her.
Ashido makes a sound like a kettle reaching boiling point.
Ignorant of their exchange, Todoroki asks again, “Your scent,” he clarifies. “If you don't mind.”
“Of course!” Yaoyorozu squeaks.
Katsuki stands up so abruptly his chair screeches against the floor.
Every head turns to him, startled.
“What?” he snaps, and people avoid his angry gaze, returning to what they were doing before.
“Hm, very, very interesting,” Ashido says again.
“Shut up.”
“He's building his nest, you know?”
“I KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING.”
Ashido's grin widens. “You seem really invested in this. I wonder why.”
Katsuki considers shoving her head through the desk, but sits back down as Aizawa enters the room, asking everyone to take their places.
He is going to kill someone.
Possibly himself.
By Friday, the entire class has caught on.
Not to the fact that Katsuki is slowly losing his mind, obviously. He's the only one who hasn't figured that part out. No, they've caught on to Todoroki's little project.
“Who do you think he's asking next?” Ashido wonders aloud during lunch.
“Uraraka,” Jirou answers immediately.
“Why?”
“Because they're friends, right?”
“But he's friends with everyone,” Sero points out.
“Maybe he'll ask Mineta, then,” Kirishima suggests.
Everyone laughs. Katsuki doesn't. Because right on time Todoroki is, in fact, approaching Uraraka.
He watches the entire thing unfold with the horrified fascination of someone witnessing a natural disaster in slow motion.
“Uraraka.”
“Hi, Todoroki-kun!”
“Could I have your cardigan?”
Uraraka blinks. “My cardigan?”
“The one you wore yesterday, if you haven't washed it yet.”
“Oh!” Uraraka looks delighted. “Sure! Is it for your nest?”
“Yes.”
“That's so cute! Of course you can have it! It’s really soft, I’m sure you will like it!”
Todoroki smiles at that. Actually smiles. It's small, barely there, but it's enough to make Katsuki's stomach do something deeply unpleasant.
Katsuki looks at the fork in his hand. The metal is bent nearly in half.
"Bakubro," Kirishima says carefully, “perhaps you should consider taking a few deep breaths, man.”
“Perhaps you should consider shutting the fuck up.”
Ashido leans across the table, eyes glittering with the kind of malicious joy that makes Katsuki genuinely question whether their friendship is worth the trouble.
“Told you guys,” Jirou says. “Uraraka is an omega too. Of course Todoroki would go for her.”
Then, Ashido says. “Sooo, who’s next now?”
“Who gives a shit?” Katsuki snaps, regretting it immediately as everyone at the table turns back to him.
“Right. Not you, of course,” Ashido replies. Then she lowers her voice, directing the next words mostly at him. “I wonder when he'll ask you.”
Katsuki's head snaps up.
“What?”
Ashido's smile is positively evil.
“Nothing, nothing,” she dismisses, far too innocently.
He spends the rest of lunch angrily munching and snapping at every attempt his friends make to include him in the conversation.
The weekend is the worst.
Not because Todoroki asks anyone else for anything. He doesn't. It's the worst because Katsuki has time to think. Which is, in retrospect, the real problem.
He thinks about it while training. While showering. While eating. While trying to sleep and discovering that his brain has apparently decided to replay every single interaction between Todoroki and his unfortunate collection of scented belongings.
Midoriya's scarf. Iida's handkerchief. Yaoyorozu's pouch. Uraraka's cardigan.
Four people. Four pieces of clothing. Four scents that will apparently be surrounding Todoroki while he sleeps.
Katsuki rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling.
He thinks about the day he discovered Todoroki was an omega, right after the school tournament, and how shocked he’d been. Not that he thinks omegas are weak or less capable of anything. Fuck that. But because the boy was, you know, he.
Besides his own dad, Katsuki hasn’t met many omegas in his life, and there were only a small portion in UA–their class only had three of them: pink face, round cheeks and half and half. But compared to common knowledge, Todoroki’s actions and overall personality were nothing like the traditional omega.
Taking Uraraka and Ashido for example, the girls were always hugging and scenting their classmates, talking freely about nesting and stuff like that. Katsuki learned at home that omegas seeked that kind of contact, that it was healthy for them. But he never saw Todoroki doing any of this shit. He actually can’t even remember seeing him shaking hands with anyone.
So why now?
More importantly, why the fuck does Katsuki care?
Todoroki can build whatever nest he wants, with whatever stupid things he wants. Katsuki doesn’t give a single shit.
Katsuki yanks his pillow over his face.
“Fuck.”
He needs to get a grip.
By Monday, he has.
Mostly.
He's decided the entire thing is none of his business. He's going to stop watching Todoroki. He's going to stop keeping track of who the omega talks to. He's going to stop feeling personally offended every time someone mentions Todoroki’s nest.
He's going to be normal.
Then Todoroki doesn't ask anyone for anything. Not on Monday. Not on Tuesday. Not on Wednesday. And, somehow, that makes everything worse. Because Katsuki had gotten used to it. He'd gotten used to Todoroki walking up to someone every day, making his polite little request, and wandering off with another piece of clothing tucked away in a damn plastic bag.
He'd gotten used to knowing who was next. He'd even gotten used to the class's ridiculous betting pool, although he would rather swallow a live grenade than admit he'd been keeping track of the odds.
Now there's nothing. Todoroki just sits in class, takes notes, answers questions when called upon, and occasionally talks to Midoriya or Iida about homework.
Everything goes back to normal. Perfectly fucking normal.
Katsuki hates it.
“Maybe he's finished,” Kirishima says on Wednesday afternoon.
They're in the common room, sprawled across the couches after training. Kaminari is playing some stupid game on his phone, and Ashido has her feet in Sero's lap.
“Finished with what?” Katsuki asks.
Ashido looks at him with a smartass smirk.
“The nest, Bakugou.”
“Maybe he has everything he needs,” Kirishima continues, mercifully pretending not to notice the way Ashido is looking at Katsuki. “Building a nest takes a while, right? Maybe he's just putting it together now.”
Katsuki grunts.
“Or maybe,” Ashido says, “he's saving the best for last.”
“What do you mean?” Sero asks.
“You know, every omega has a particular way they build their nest, and most of the time there’s a specific order to follow, with different materials and different scents. My guess is that our little Shouto is still trying to figure out what works best for him.”
“And how do you know that?” Katsuki asks before he can stop himself.
Ashido taps her chin with one finger. “Hm. Maybe he came to me asking for a scented item as well and a little advice on how to build a nest. But who knows?”
Katsuki scowls, but before he can ask anything, Ashido is gone.
That night, lying in bed, he thinks about it again.
Saving the best for last.
What the fuck does that mean?
It's almost ten when someone knocks on his door.
Katsuki is in the middle of pulling a clean shirt over his head, his hair still damp from his shower, when he hears it.
Three neat knocks.
Not Kirishima then, who tends to pound on the door like he's trying to break it down. Not Kaminari, who usually yells his name from the hallway. And definitely not Ashido, who doesn't believe in knocking at all.
Katsuki opens the door, and there stands Todoroki, in his pajamas, holding an empty canvas tote bag, with cartoon cats all over it.
“What the fuck?”
“Oh, thank god you’re still awake.”
“What are you doing here, halfie?”
“Hm, I need something,” he answers, looking down.
“What is it?”
Todoroki shifts in place and Katsuki sees him hesitating a little, avoiding his gaze.
“Your sweater,” he finally whispers.
Katsuki stares at the omega, who is still looking anywhere but him.
The hallway is quiet, though a few distant voices drift up from the common room downstairs. Katsuki had been about to get ready for bed, but most of the others are still hanging around.
“My what?” he asks, just to make sure he heard correctly.
“Your sweater.” Todoroki takes a deep breath. “Five sweaters, actually.”
Katsuki’s brain takes a few seconds to catch up.
“Five.”
“Yes.”
“Of my sweaters.”
“Correct.”
Katsuki opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“What the fuck do you need five of my sweaters for?”
Todoroki finally looks at him, tilting his head slightly.
“My nest.”
There it is, that fucking word.
Except this time, it lands differently.
Because Todoroki is standing in front of his door, asking for his clothes, with an empty bag in his hands. And there’s this look on his face that Katsuki hasn’t ever seen in him. Something akin to anxiousness. Not that calm, almost numb demeanor the omega always carries with a blank face.
“Why mine?” he asks, more carefully this time, searching Todoroki’s face.
Todoroki considers the question as though Katsuki has asked him to solve a particularly complicated math problem.
“Because I like your scent,” he answers softly.
His gaze drops to his feet, and his fingers tighten around the tote bag.
Katsuki swallows. His heart is suddenly beating much too fast.
He takes a discreet whiff, catching the faint trace of anxiety in Todoroki’s scent.
So the omega really is nervous.
For a moment, Katsuki doesn’t know what to say. He’d spent the better part of the past week getting worked up over the idea of Todoroki collecting everyone else’s scent. He’d convinced himself it was none of his business. He’d told himself he didn’t care.
And now Todoroki is standing right in front of him, asking for five of his sweaters because he likes the way Katsuki smells.
Katsuki doesn’t know what the hell to do with that.
So he takes a step to the side and opens the door wider.
“Come in.”
Todoroki’s head snaps up, surprise flickering across his face that soon gives way to relief. Then, he smiles. An open smile, teeth and all. One Katsuki wasn’t sure the omega was capable of.
And as the omega excuses himself, stepping into his room, Katsuki knows he is screwed.
So, so screwed.