Work Text:
It all started as the best things do.
“THIS IS CHEATING!”
With a videogame in the early hours of a rainy Sunday, more Monday than weekend and much closer to the start of school than the time a hero in training should be in bed.
Shouto had always been an early riser, much to the doctors' dismay. Perhaps this was his rebellion form, staying up past curfew just to keep the eyes glued to the cracks in the ceiling and count and recount them every morning until sleep came. Sometimes he'd watch kitten videos until fell asleep; other ones, he'd go downstairs for a snack. This was one of those nights.
The shouting greeted him as soon as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor. Until that moment, he still had some trace of sleep in his body: the slow, lazy eyes blinking, a sigh muffled by the soft teeth grinding, and the anxiousness of the hands alternating between massaging his temples and rubbing his drooping eyes. The massaging stops halfway down his face, however. So many voices. Why are so many people still awake?
Small, shuffling footsteps, silent through the fluffy cat-shaped slippers, lead him to the hallway that leads directly to the common room. Despite the lights being off, the room is subtly illuminated from the television set on its highest brightness setting.
Noises were the biggest fluctuations. Sound effects were kept to a minimum, just enough to be audible to the group kneeling in front of the television, and still low enough not to disturb anyone. Squeaks quickly became screams as the frustration of defeat overcame the memory of good company. Hands slapped shoulders and feet slammed against feet. Giggles, some quiet, some too loud.
Comforting. Shouto even sighs. Ironic or not, he liked it: this noise. This kind of noise. The hubbub brought on by adolescent joy, by victory and healthy defeat. Too loud or too soft, the noise was still good. Familiar. Safe.
"What's… Hey, Todobroki!" Kirishima is the first to see him. He doesn't mind jumping up from the couch to greet Shouto appropriately with a pat on the shoulder, always gentle so as not to startle him with an overly intrusive touch.
"What about Roki?" Sero pauses whatever cacophony of vibrant colors was on the screen and turns around. His smile is wide and distinctive, a bit triangular. "Roki!"
"Todoroki!" Mina and Kaminari are more casual with their greetings, though equally loud. The latter's, in particular, is muffled by the constant crunching of the cheese chips he's snatched from the bowl clutched in his lap. "Cheetos?"
"No, thanks." Shouto finds these snacks strange. They're crumbly and leave stinky dust on his hands. Popcorn and cookies are better. "Is this energy drink?"
There's a handful of colorful cans at Kaminari's feet. Jirou, who'd been quiet until now as if she were about to fall asleep, bends down to pick one up. Vibrant purple. Her shoulders tremble with the first sip. The wrapper says Bizarre Grape Extra Spicy.
"We have class in a few hours." Despite the energy sip, her voice is groggy. She takes another and sighs. "Neither of us wants to fall asleep in the middle of Mic-sensei's class."
The other four share a shudder, each grabbing a different colored energy drink and downing nearly half the can in one go. When someone fell asleep in the middle of Aizawa's class, the teacher rarely noticed—he often fell asleep too—and did nothing but continue writing on the board as if it were nothing. Present Mic, however, would shut the rest of the class up, tiptoe over to the sleeper's chair, gasp for air, and let out the loudest scream ever right into the kid's ear, so their next five generations of children would continue to hear that shrill sound in the back of their ears every night before bed.
It's a terrible feeling. Shouto got two screams from that before accidentally froze half of Mic's body to the ground, so the teacher opted to just furiously poke him in the back of the neck the next few times until he woke up—less effective, less freezing.
Shouto blinks. "Doesn't look very healthy to me."
“Cause it’s not.” Mina chuckles softly, her teeth pink from the Interstellar Hypnotic Raspberry energy drink. “Bakugou tells us the same thing.”
"We can only enjoy these treats when Bakubro isn't around, so, man, keep your mouth shut." Kirishima whispers as if sharing state secrets. "Keeping your friends' secrets is a manly hero's job."
"Besides, heroes don't need to be healthy all the time." Sero winks and offers a sip of his own drink. "Wanna try?"
The vibrant green liquid stares back at him, and Shouto feels his stomach churn with veiled offense. Looks radioactive.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“We also have strawberry milk,” Kaminari offers.
“This one I like.”
With a strawberry milk frozen to resemble ice cream in hand, Shouto finds himself squeezed on the couch between Kirishima and Sero, Mina and Kaminari sprawled on the floor, and Jirou occupying the empty seat. There's plenty of human contact, but not the kind that's excessive or uncomfortable. Kirishima has the hands in his lap, and Sero keeps the elbows protruding as far away from him as possible.
They're very helpful. Besides sharing their snacks and space, they also share their gaming with him.
"It's called Split Fiction." Kaminari, the spokesperson for video game nights, returns to the game's opening scene only to integrate Shouto into the cast. "This is a new release! Shima bought it for us almost a month ago, but none of us could even touch the joystick cause of the tests barrage. Dude, I almost cried during my math exam and…"
"Everyone saw you crying, Kami." Sero chuckles. His long fingers point to each joystick part, almost forced it into Shouto's hands. "There was even snot coming out of your nose."
“I didn’t!”
“You did,” Jirou retorts, her voice smiling. “And was disgusting.”
"I'm sorry about your test, Kaminari. There's nothing wrong with crying."
“This is why Todoroki is my favorite, guys. You can have the joystick for the rest of the night! We've played this level like four times already!”
The game is beautiful, colorful, and full of detail. Shouto spends more time rotating the camera to see the graphics than actually completing the level. None of them complain or seem bothered. Quite the opposite. Mina comments on how beautiful the characters' outfits are, Kirishima repeats all the dubbed lines—in broken but effortful English—and Sero says he has one of the background songs saved on his phone to listen while reading manga.
“This character… What’s her name again? The one with short hair.”
Jirou steals one of the snacks from Kaminari's bowl. "Zoe."
“That’s it. Zoe. She reminds me of Bakugou.”
She chokes on the snack with a laugh too loud for her profile.
“We said the same thing.” Mina has to stifle her laughter with a pillow or she’ll wake up an entire floor.
“We were brutally blown up, Todobroki. I wouldn't say that to his face if I were you.”
It's a shame. Because that's exactly what Shouto was thinking of doing on the way to their afternoon practice class.
Shouto finishes two more levels until his blinking slows down. The joystick is left on the coffee table next to the empty energy drink cans. The clock on the wall reads almost three in the morning.
“We should sleep.”
"But you seemed to be enjoying the game so much, dude! What's one more little level?" Kaminari bats his eyelashes and pouts. He looks like a bratty kid.
"I'm sleepy." Shouto stands up. "And so are you. There no more energy drinks to hide your tiredness."
"It's just we've been awake for so long there's no point in sleep." Sero sinks into the remaining space on the couch. "It will be what? Two hours of sleep?"
"And I still had morning gym with Bakubro." Kirishima's face contorted in pain. "I think if I lift even a single weight, I'll vomit."
Shouto wrappers the empty cans into his arms. "I'm going to sleep."
“But…” Comes in a chorus.
“You too.”
"Us?"
Even with the hands full of plastic and metal trash, Shouto was frightening. He's not the type to shout or threaten. His mouth remains closed, and his eyes narrow so slightly it's almost imperceptible. It's this inexpressiveness that makes him machiavellian. He's serious and honest in every single word that comes out of his mouth.
Neither of them are willing to find out what Shouto might do if they don't get up to go to bed right now.
“The console…”
"I'll turn it off." Shouto knows how to turn off a console. Midoriya taught him at the beginning of second year. "Come up."
And that's when, at that very moment, things begin.
The following sentence comes out of Kaminari's mouth, laden with irony and a hint of laughter. Two words.
“Yes, dad.”
[ . . . ]
“What is this half and half doing here?”
“We invited him, bro!”
“Without my fucking permission?”
“We took a vote.” Mina crosses her arms on the table, in the way that makes Bakugou frown like a 70-year-old lady. “It’s democracy!”
“It’s not democracy if I’m not in the fucking vote too!”
"You'd lose even if you were there, Kac- Bakugou." Kaminari chuckles. The next second, he's dodging a piece of tempura. Too bad. The corn tempura was delicious.
“How can I lose if my vote is worth five? We’ve agreed this shit before, you suckers.”
“Cause we all voted in favor.” Sero makes an annoying ticking sound with the tapping of his chopsticks. “Even Jirou!”
Bakugou snorts, full of disgust.
“Traitor.”
She just shrugs as chews her food.
“Todoroki is cool.”
The commotion seems to calm down from there, and it’s only at that moment Shouto deems it safe to sit in the empty seat at the table, to Sero's left and in front of Bakugou.
It's the first time he's sat at a different table in the cafeteria in a long time, perhaps since he and Midoriya became friends—or perhaps since Midoriya's extroverted nature adopted Shouto's introverted one. This unusual change in routine is due to two main reasons:
- Iida, Uraraka, Momo, Midoriya, and Tsuyu are all absent today, all at once. The first three went on a joint mission from their internship agencies and were formally granted leave for a week (Shouto was sorting out notes for each of them). Midoriya went to the hospital to check his arm muscles. And Tsuyu asked—begged Aizawa with sad cries—for leave during the lunch break to eat with her family.
- Sero invited him to sit with them at lunch. He was quite blunt when he said none of the group would complain, "not even a grumpy Bakugou."
Shouto already knew the second half of the second point was questionable. He doesn't mind. On the contrary, he even hides a flicker of a smile behind a handful of rice.
“I apologize for bothering you so much with my presence, Bakugou.”
A choking sound. Not too far, not too close. Shrill. A little phlegmy. It was Kaminari.
Hiss. Someone bite their tongue. Kirishima.
"Bro…"
A snort. A strange mix of laughter and disbelief. Right in front of him. Shouto doesn't need to look up from his food to know who it was.
“I know you can do worse. Get better, Elsa.”
“Oh, I will, thank you.”
There's been much debate about the relationship between Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto, third-year students in UA's Hero Course. It began, like all the worst—and best—things, with a fake death threat, a half-baked fight, and a lot of resentment.
Things have changed since the first year. In their second, the Sports Festival was postponed until the end of the year due to the war and the damage caused to private property at the school, the city of Musutafu, and other locations. Subject grading was replaced by fieldwork, volunteering, therapy sessions, and numerous discussion groups. So much so when the Festival finally took place, half the class was already considered of age.
(Bakugou and Shouto didn't face each other in this one, though. In fact, they barely made to the finals. They fell in the qualifying round. It was a capture-the-flag tournament, and their team was depleted by a trio of General Studies students whose leader had the peculiarity of, believe it or not, conjuring feathers from his fingertips. Shouto still feels the tickle poking his neck sometimes.
They implicitly agree this event should be scrapped and their third—and final—Sports Festival will be the final rematch.)
Their second and third years were and continue to be marked by hospitalizations. At the end of the last war, Shouto's room was two doors down from Bakugou's. They would meet frequently in the middle of the night, long after the blond's normal bedtime. Again, Shouto was used to being awake. And being woken up.
(“Nightmare?”
“Why would I have a damn nightmare?”
Shouto barely moved his neck to look at Bakugou. Partly because it was unnecessary; partly because half of his body was bandaged and it hurt to move too much.
“Why wouldn’t?”
“Cause I’m a fucking hero.” The answer came minutes later, so late Shouto had almost forgotten the question who prompted it. “The kind who saves people.”
“I’m a hero too. And you’re a person.”
“God, you’re fucking insufferable.”
"Thank you."
Bakugou shared his nightmares next night.)
At this point, Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto are friends. Good friends. Not friends who walk around with their legs and arms stuck together, but the kind who share nightmares during sleepless nights, who keep a tally of victories in training together that only they know the numbers—30 for Bakugou, 29 for Shouto, six technical draws, and one half-finished fight—and who know each other's favorite ice cream flavor.
(“Not that one, shortcake.” Bakugou slaps his hand away on his way to one of the ice cream tubs. “That one’s from Baldy. It’s coconut.”
Shouto hates coconut ice cream. The texture of the coconut pieces lost in the roof of his mouth is quite unpleasant.
"And that?"
"Only that fancy Illusionist would like some shit like that." Bubblegum flavor. Disgusting. "Use your brain cells, IcyHot, it's not that hard."
"Then…"
Bakugou sighs. “Nuts for me.” There’s only one left.
Yogurt with berries. Shouto's favorite.)
So, yes, Shouto is entitled to a seat at Bakugou's friends' table every now and then. The initial awkwardness subsides after the first two minutes, when Shouto realizes there's more food on his tray than he'd originally put in.
"Carrot?"
"Your food is the most nutrient-poor I've ever seen." Bakugou purses his lips. He pulls out another of his vegetables and tosses it toward Shouto's bowl of soba noodles. The aim is unerring. "And I eat with those idiots every single day."
“Hey, I always ate all my vegetables!” Kaminari whines.
“So what’s that over there?” Mina points a finger at a handful of red cubes piled in the corner of the tray.
“Tomato. But tomatoes are fruits. Right, Shima?”
“He’s right. Kamibro promised to eat the vegetables, not the fruits.”
“Yeah, and Jirou didn’t agree to trade my tomatoes for her beans.”
“Beans are much tastier than tomatoes,” she retorts.
“I like tomatoes.” Sero looks offended on behalf of the plump red fruits.
"If you eat your tomatoes, Kaminari," Shouto makes himself heard. His chopsticks hold a generous piece of beetroot. "I'll eat my vegetables."
Kaminari's eyes glow so brightly Shouto swears he sees a tiny spark of electricity dancing across his eyelashes.
“You would do that for me, dude?”
Shouto chews on the beetroot as a vote of confidence.
The tomatoes disappear in seconds, eaten after being mixed into a generous sauce (stolen from Sero) and in the middle of the omelet (stolen from Mina), but eaten nonetheless. The encouragement helps others eat their own neglected vegetables, and Bakugou didn't even have to yell or shove chopsticks into anyone's mouth this time!
A pair of ruby eyes travel to Shouto's quiet figure with a narrowed slit that could mean threat, curiosity, or approval.
(Shouto knows it's the third option. If he were threatening, Bakugou would be gritting his teeth. When curious, he can't contain the small snorts that slip through his parted lips. Approval, unlike these, is silent, but no less genuine.
Not everything with Bakugou has to be loud to be real.)
“Where's Roki on our list?”
List?
"What…"
"The list is a ranking of all the extras who get the honor of sitting at our table," Bakugou says between rough chews. "Your nerd table doesn’t have one?"
"No?"
Shouto even frowns in surprise. Not only do they not have such a list, but it would be a real hassle to make one. His friends are very popular, the kind who have several other friends inside and outside the school. Their table welcomes a new person at least once a week! Uraraka and Tsuyu have gotten used to squeezing into the corner to accommodate visitors, Momo bought twice as much tea as last year, and Iida always acts as host—even when no one asked him to.
"Not everyone has a rabid dog for a leader like you, Bakugou." Mina laughs. It seems reckless, but it's a safe bet now that Bakugou has already eaten all the small throwable items, and he would never waste a spoonful of hot curry on anyone, no matter how annoying they were. "The list was his idea."
“I'm not surprised.”
“It’s a matter of damn good coexistence! Isn’t it, Ears?”
“The list is cool.”
Kirishima mutters. "But some positions are a lil questionable."
"We're not gonna lower Monoma's position just cause you don't like him, Shima." Kaminari pats his back. "That's not kinda manly of you."
The sentence struck him. Kirishima's eyes widened and his shoulders slumped like a wounded dog. He pouted. "I still don't like him."
“He brought us snacks at the hospital.” Todoroki says.
At some point during his hospital stay, the flow of people in and out of the medical wards was so heavy the vending machine was empty for a whole week. It was a shame for Shouto, who would sneak from the nurses every night to buy strawberry milk.
(“You look miserable, Halfie.”
“The emptiness of the vending machine matches the one in my heart.”
“All this drama over a carton of pink industrial milk?”
"It's not just any milk, Bakugou. It's strawberry." Just the right amount of sweetness. A divine delicacy encapsulated in a cardboard box. And when frozen with a twist of the wrist, it practically becomes ice cream!
“Disgusting.”)
Starting the following afternoon, Shouto began receiving visits from Monoma Neito. To say this surprised him is an understatement. Shouto wasn't particularly close to anyone from Class B, perhaps only Tokage and Honenuki, and their closest interactions were during the series of recommendation exams just before first year. He'd also spoken to Kendo through Momo's influence.
But never with Monoma.
(“I think you got the wrong room.”
“Nah. Bakugou made me repeat your coordinates about three times before letting me out.”
Shouto doesn't know what surprised him most about that conversation, whether it was discovering these two were now friends, or whether it was because Monoma was only there on Bakugou's orders.
“Bakugou?”
"Strawberry milk, right?" Monoma holds out a grocery bag. Lots of little boxes. "’Only the pink boxes, maybe blue ones if they don't have any pink ones, but fucking never pick the green ones’. You gave very specific instructions."
Forget the previous questions. This was the point which resonated with him most.
That’s his favorites. “But I didn’t instruct anything.”
Monoma Neito's little smile said more than a thousand words.)
That's how Shouto discovered Monoma, released from the hospital weeks earlier after plenty of rest and half a dozen prescriptions for eye drops, regularly came to visit Bakugou with bags full of spicy snacks hidden in the pockets of his backpack. The weight became a bit heavier after he started carrying Bakugou's snacks along with Shouto's strawberry milk.
One of the first things Shouto did after leaving the hospital was order Monoma a nice bottle of wine as a thanks. One of those with three zeros on the label.
“And who else is on the list?”
“Tetsubro! One position below Monoma, which makes no sense at all…”
Bakugou snorts. "You guys fucking scream and yell and spit and pound on the table like two shitty animals when in the same space."
It's a fact. When Tetsutetsu and Kirishima share a table in the cafeteria, they're separated from their group's. It's always very, very loud. And it involves some form of arm wrestling 80% of the time.
"Yaomomo is already part of the family." Mina sips the juice box as if it were a cup of tea, pinky finger down and all. "She helps us study calmly, unlike some people..."
“It's just your stupidity drive me fucking crazy.”
"Tokoyami also comes over when we discuss band matters." Jirou wraps the right earbud around her finger. "He has great music taste."
“Fact.” Bakugou nods.
“Kinda dark.” Kaminari shrugs. “But cool.”
"And Sato, cause he always brings delicious sweets." Sero ticks off the names on his long fingers. "Shinsou, cause Bakugou likes he doesn't talk too much and Kaminari likes to bother him. And Uraraka, cause it always ends with her and Bakugou threatening each other like two medieval warriors."
“The girl is a good spar.”
Other minor mentions include Ojiro, who, curiously, is called upon whenever Bakugou gets beaten in one-on-one combat during practical classes, and Midoriya, who everyone agreed is "too popular" and "always fills the table with a bunch of fucking nosey people none of us wanted to call." Shouto has to stifle a laugh when he realizes one of those is Iida. A great friend, but a bit controlling.
(And whenever Midoriya and Bakugou are at the same table, anything becomes a reason for an argument. And any argument between these two causes the rest of the group to kick them to their own table just like a Kirishima and Tetsutetsu incident 2.0.)
"If every member of the list comes with a reason for being on it," Shouto, ever so observant. "What's mine?"
“You, Roki, meet all our requirements.”
“I do?”
"Obviously! Look, we have our manga thing, so we can share theories and recs just turning around in our chairs," Sero argues. "You're not too loud, score with Jirou. Good, loyal, and manly friend, score with Kirishima. And Mina and Kaminari approve of anyone who’s handsome."
"Hey!" They both complain. Seconds later, Kaminari adds: "And with you, our drinks will never be too hot or too cold."
“And that too.”
“And most importantly, man.” Kirishima gives one of his widest smiles. “Bakubro adores you!”
“I what?”
“You adore Todobroki, man.”
“Adore is a very strong word.”
“Like?” Mina takes a bold guess.
“It’s supposed to be better?”
“Supports?” Jirou ventures.
He shrugs.
"Decent."
“Bakugou, you hurt my feelings.” Shouto declares without moving a facial muscle.
“Be careful or you will fall into the unbearable category."
“Like these five?”
“Hey!”
A laughter—loud and sincere—fills the cafeteria. It's ironic that someone as loud as Bakugou has rarely been seen laughing. Snorts behind the palm of the hand? Yes. High-pitched wheezes quickly masked by embarrassed throat clearings? Definitely. Laughter so booming you lift your face to breathe? Very rare.
A nudge comes from the right. "I think you just gained some points from our leader, Roki."
[ . . . ]
Shouto visits the squad table a few more times during the week; and during the month; and during the semester; and, if you will, during the entire senior year. Not often, sometimes once or twice a week. He still prefers the company of his old friends. But the warmth, closeness, and comfortable noise of those six is always welcome.
It's funny how it never gets too suffocating. If Kirishima and Kaminari are getting rowdy, Jirou will take him aside, share her headphones with the calmest playlist she has, and they'll sit in silence, mumbling emo lyrics. And if things get too quiet, Shouto will be squeezed into some random video game competition while Mina paints his toenails.
And in the calm and the chaos, in the silence and the hustle and bustle, there is Bakugou.
Bakugou became a kind of constant. Somehow, he was always there. Half the songs on Jirou's playlist were his recs. The console was Kirishima's, but one of the joysticks (the one with the limited-edition All Might Heroes logo) belonged to Bakugou, and only he—and Shouto, when he wasn't eating snacks—could use it. Every dinner night, there would be an extra plate of food already waiting for Shouto at the counter.
And in the sleepless nights…
"Nightmare?"
Shouto was hovering on the edge between sleep and lucidity when the elevator doors opened. It was a strange sound in the silent room, filled only with the ticking of the clock and his own breathing. He blinked. His eyes were dry. How long had he kept them open? He swore he'd dozed off.
"Yeah," he answers, more a murmur than a voice. His mouth is dry, too. He could use a sip of water. "You?"
He doesn't turn to look, but he hears the frown in Bakugou's voice. A clap of thunder precedes the answer.
“Something like that.”
The footsteps move away toward the kitchen. Shouto gets up and follows.
"War?"
The cupboards are rummaged through. Bakugou holds up a kettle seconds before shaking his head and switching to a milk jug.
"War."
“War.” Shouto repeats.
The war changed everything. Social relations, the economy, the way we think and act. Normalcy was unsullied by fear, and the nights were invaded by the whispers of distant ghosts. Shouto was used to waking up in the middle of a nightmare—or having a nightmare wake him in the middle of sleep. The good thing is his fear is usually contained by the unshakable security of the cold. Better to wake up in the middle of the night with half the futon frozen than to consider burning down the room, full of wooden furniture, in the middle of his sleep.
“Milk or tea?”
“Milk with tea.”
“It's tea with milk.”
“No.” He pounds. “Milk with tea.”
A snort. “Weird.”
In the first few weeks back in the dorm, after months of structural reconstruction of the school and the student body, the early mornings were hectic, to say the least. The first week of classes was formally canceled because students showed up tired and with bags under their eyes. In the morning, Class A was the quietest of all; by dawn, it was all chaos.
How sleep? Knowing that months ago, one of them could have been killed.
Knowing that one of them was, in fact, killed.
(“I know how to hold a fucking knife.”
“I know, Bakubro, but I swear I saw the blade touch your finger and…”
“PUSHING against my finger, not TWISTING it in the fucking middle. You don't even know how to heat water properly, Shittyhair, don't get involved. And you, Pikachu, get away from the stove. I can handle myself, I don't need you stupid empty brains hanging around me.”
"But…"
“One more but I hear and I’ll have you all blown out of this fucking kitchen. Go. NOW!”)
Every little mumble, heavy breathing, and crooked blink was cause for concern. There were times when Shouto couldn't get close to a television because people were crowding in front of it. He didn't even need to look to know it was another news report about his imprisoned brother, his retired father, or his hospitalized mother.
“I heard you’ve been taking care of them.”
"Who?"
"My idiots," Bakugou replies in a whisper, almost so low they're lost in the crackling of the stove flames. "They've developed this habit of playing until sunrise or whatever."
“They said there was a new game they really wanted to play. Split something.”
"Split Fiction? They've played that shit so many times I know half the lines by heart." He chuckled softly. "They've beaten all those games to every possible ending, with each joystick in hand. I've even played several ones."
"Then…"
“It’s not about the game. Never is.”
It's about the time they spend together. Shouto searches for the unspoken words. Because curling up on the same couch during a night previously haunted by nightmares helps them remember they're okay. That they're together.
“They drank energy drinks.”
“They did? ”
“About two cans each.”
“Motherfuckers. They know this shit destroys the body?”
The milk boils in huge bubbles inside the small pot. On the counter, two cups rest with tea bags hanging over the edge.
“I told them it wasn’t healthy.”
“As any sane and lucid being would say.”
“They said that was something you would say. And that I should never tell they were doing this to you.”
Bakugou arches an eyebrow. Shouto swears he sees a smile. "Is that so?"
“Kirishima said it’s manly to keep other people’s secrets.”
“That you just told.”
Shouto shrugs.
"Opsie."
A giggle. Definitely audible this time. Bakugou massages the frown line between his temples and sighs.
“You just moved up a spot on the list, Halfie. Congratulations.”
"Good to know I'm not in Monoma's shoes anymore. I'd hate to lose to someone from B."
Another laugh. The stove timer beeps. The milk has boiled.
“Two positions now, idiot.”
“Can I get three up by the end of tea?”
“Don’t abuse the sacred tea time, Todoroki.”
[ . . . ]
“Well, well, what do we have here…”
“B-Bakubro! You shouldn’t be…”
"Sleeping? I was, but I remembered a little bird told me it'd been hearing the sound of cans opening during the night, so I came to check it out. I'd hate to know my sweetie idiots are taking things they shouldn't be taking without me knowing…"
“We would never do that, Kac-”
“The cans. Now.”
“How did you know? Todoroki didn’t rat us out, did he? A boy with such a pretty face would never do something like that.”
"He may have a tiny brain, Raccoon Eyes, but he's still no bird. Now give me what you're hiding under that shitty pillow or I'll make a fuss in the middle of the night."
“Just one can, Bakugou…”
“Not even a single one, Ears.”
"But…"
“I’ll count the seconds. One.Two… ”
Ten colorful cans, half of them half-full, landed in Bakugou's arms in a matter of seconds. Shouto, who'd just stopped by for a drink of water, hid a laughter behind the counter.
[ . . . ]
You have been added to CAPTIVITY 🧱
?
Kaminari : 9h05
WELCOME YOU
Jirou : 9h05
wtf is this name?
Bakugou : 9h06
who the fucker brainless who changed the gc name????
Sero : 9h06
ME :D yall like it?
Kirishima : 9h07
Man you’re gonna scare Todobroki
What captivity?
Mina : 9h07
omg hes so precious 😭
Bakugou : 9h07
you guys have a fetish for embarrassing yourself.
Jirou : 9h08
rt
Kaminari changed the group name to Family 👨❤️👨👶👶👶👶👶
Kaminari : 9h15
here i slAY
Sero : 9h15
Why there a lot of babies
wait
FUUUUUUUCK
Mina : 9h15
HELPPP
Jirou : 9h16
i bet an ice cream bakugou changes the chat name in 5 minutes
Kirishima : 9h16
I bet two it's in 3
What happened to us being promoted from captivity to family group?
Emojis of a gay couple and their five babies?
Mina : 9h17
DEAR GOD
Bakugou : 9h18
.
(#+@8#727;29$(
WHAT THE FUCK
IS THIS SHIT
??????????
Bakugou changed the group name to Squad 💥 WHOEVER CHANGES THE FUCKING NAME AGAIN DIES
Bakugou removed Kaminari
You added Kaminari
Jirou : 9h19
OH MY.
Sero : 9h20
GOD.
Bakugou : 9h20
????????????????
I found it rude
Bakugou, stop starting to type and then stopping. It's going to give me anxiety
Bakugou : 9h24
you even UNDERSTAND the SHIT this DEMON did????
A family group
Two dads and five babies
We are the dads and they are the babies
Kaminari : 9h25
its the happiest day of my life
Bakugou : 9h27
AND HOW DID YOU COME TO THE CONCLUSION WE’RE DADS?
IM NOBODY'S DAD
MUCH LESS WITH YOU
?!?!!?!
Because parents are supposed to be more rational than their children
Bakugou : 9h28
.
Kirishima : 9h28
Todobroki just call us irrational animals?
Bro 💔
Mina : 9h28
i can't believe it 💔💔
Bakugou : 9h29
HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHSHSHSHSHSHA
Kaminari : 9h30
im opening a formal petition to remove todoroki from this gc
one vote in favor
Mina : 9h30
two in favor
Jirou : 9h30
three votes in favor
Kirishima : 9h30
Four votes in favor
Bakugou : 9h30
five votes against
Sero, if this vote is tied, the Spider-Man collector's edition comic will suffer the consequences.
Kaminari : 9h31
HE SHOWING HIS CLAWS?????
Mina : 9h31
i was FOOLED BY A PRETTY FACE
Sero : 9h32
Six against
It's Spider-Man guys there's no way
Bakugou : 9h32
long live democracy
You changed the group name to Family 👨❤️👨👶👶👶👶👶
Bakugou : 9h33
WHAT
Democracy
Bakugou : 9h33
i reopen the fuckin petition.
five votes in favor.
One vote against
Sero : 9h33
Two against
Kaminari : 9h33
three votes against
Mina : 9h33
four against
Kirishima : 9h33
Five votes against!
Jirou : 9h33
six votes against
Bakugou : 9h34
kys
[ . . . ]
Many side effects arise from being added—suddenly—to the squad chat.
First, his vocabulary grows at an extraordinary rate. Yes, Bakugou writes and speaks—because he sends a lot of audio messages when he's angry and words aren't enough to express his displeasure—a lot of swear words in different dialects and languages. But that's not all. Shouto discovered Kaminari is a true linguistic scholar, to the point of telling big, learned words he'd only seen recited in old romance novels straight from Momo's bookshelf.
Second, his own repertoire is staggered. Books? Kaminari reads a lot—and very quickly. Comics? Sero takes care of that. Music? Jirou has a playlist for every seasonal mood. Television and reality shows? Let Mina introduce you to even portuguese programs. Series? Kirishima is a fanatic about them. Cooking shows? From barbecue to cupcakes, Bakugou has half the lines memorized from every episode of past seasons.
(On television, the guy has just picked up a stalk of cooked green plants—the name of which Shouto has already forgotten—and hastily tosses them into a bowl full of ice.
"Why…"
“To keep the green color. It’ll stop cooking.”
“If it’s to keep the green, why did he just put it all in a pot of thick brown broth?”
"Cause he's the DUMBEST I've ever seen." Bakugou growls as the judge comments on the stupid decision. "Even you were able to spot the mistake and you don't even know how to cut a bunch of green onions.")
Third, his schedule suddenly becomes increasingly tighter and less free. He's had to learn to balance. On Tuesdays, Shouto either goes shopping or catches up on old TV shows with snacks and manicures with Mina; sometimes the other girls show up too, which may or may not include Jirou. On Thursdays, he's invited to watch the band practice—his job is to hand out water and regulate the room temperature. Fridays, gym afternoons with Kirishima and manga nights with Sero. Saturdays, movie night. Sundays, gaming sessions—minus Bakugou, if it's late at night.
And every weekday morning set aside for a walk with Bakugou. It wasn't a decision made voluntarily—although, despite so much time in this routine, Shouto never missed a single one.
(A furious knock on the porch wakes him in the morning. He doesn't need to check the watch. It's five fifty-five. Period.
“Five more minutes….”
Another, even angrier knock. It translates to: no five minutes.
Shouto snorts loudly and sits down on the futon. He swears he hears a giggle coming from outside.)
Oh, and fourth. But not least. Perhaps the most routine of them all.
He starts to worry and think about them almost twenty-four hours a day.
"Todoroki, what do you need…" Midoriya's wide eyes wander over the exorbitant amount of products in the shopping basket. There are so many he doesn't even know where to begin. "Oh, is that buckwheat flour?"
“Yes. A packet of Indigo Blue brand buckwheat flour.” He rereads the list.
Shouto has a digital list containing all the items he should buy. The list is in a pinned message in Bakugou chat. It wasn't sent to the group because Bakugou says it "keeps his spaced-out mind from missing the important things amidst all that crap those kids are talking about." It was a smart choice. Shouto has to open the chat every minute to check if it was a) the right item, b) the right quantity, and c) the right brand. Apparently, the quality of the orange-packaged flour is much lower than the green one, which is ridiculous compared to the indigo one.
Midoriya taps his fingernails against the basket handle. He'd offered to go shopping with him. He probably figured Shouto wouldn't be buying much. Maybe half a dozen industrial soba noodles and a carton of strawberry milk, at most. But there are even vegetables in the basket!
“You’re cooking?”
“Midoriya, I don’t know how to cook.”
“I know you don’t! That’s why I asked! You know, the last time you were left in the kitchen unsupervised, Aizawa-sensei got really upset and…”
“I won’t burn down the kitchen cabinets again, don’t worry.”
Midoriya sighs in relief. He follows him through two more sections of healthy, preservative-free products before opening his mouth.
“Who’s gonna cook?”
“Bakugou.”
“You guys have been really close lately, you and Kacchan.” Midoriya drawls awkwardly.
Shouto arches an eyebrow. “We’re friends.”
"And I'm really happy about that, you know, that my friends are friends too. But the other day I caught you smiling listening to an angry audio of Kacchan complaining about Kaminari as if he were a child and you guys the parents with shared custody, so then I started wondering if..."
“Kaminari called me dad once.”
“Something is happening with… HE WHAT?”
"Actually, he constantly calls Bakugou and me dads," he points out. Shouto is the type to set the record straight. "I believe Mina and Sero have made similar insinuations, too."
“And Kacchan didn’t explode?”
"He stopped complaining after the second time. Bakugou even makes jokes calling them kids or brats, depending on the mood. It sounds funny, but I think it's seriously changing the way I handle my interpersonal relationships. I almost freaked out when Kaminari choked on his own water during the last training session and even accidentally called him son. Is it weird?"
“I, un, I don’t know…? Maybe?”
“Bakugou said something similar. While laughing a lot.”
“Is that so?”
"He's been laughing a lot lately, hasn't he? I think it's nice. He has a beautiful laugh and a sweet smile."
“Todoroki, you like Kacchan?”
You like Kacchan?
He stares at his own slightly askew reflection in the glossy paper of the bag of spicy chips. The one with teal accents, not blue. The label read Spicy. The brand also has an Extra-Spicy line, which isn't as spicy as the Spicy, which is not only tastier but also has five fewer calories per chip.
It wasn't on the list. Shouto doesn't even like spicy potatoes. But it was Bakugou's favorite.
“Of course.” The chips is placed on top of the basket. “He’s my friend.”
“Not that kind of liking.”
“What kind of?”
“Oh, how do I explain this…" Midoriya bites the tip of his thumb. "The kind you'd like to marry, have two tabby cats and lots of kids?"
Now, this is a more specific question. Shouto has a lot of friends, but he wouldn't marry them all. Marriage is a sensitive topic for any Todoroki, and besides being someone he would have to trust deeply, it would have to be someone he would be comfortable with. It would be good if they knew how to cook, because Shouto is still learning to cut vegetables. They would have to like cats, because Shouto would like one or two. And they would have to get along with his mother and siblings; that's also an important point.
Other than that, Shouto doesn't have many requirements. Which is odd, because even with many friends who meet several or all of the necessary criteria, he still doesn't see himself marrying them.
But he closes his eyes. And thinks. A peaceful house, whose decor ranges from traditional Japanese to a more colorful and comfortable contemporary style. A beautiful kitchen, even though he wasn't allowed in it much. Gardens with a variety of flowers. A training room. A balcony area for the cats. A large backyard filled with well-kept green grass.
(“We need a yard.”
“Cats do not require as large play areas as dogs.”
"It's not for the cats, Halfie." It's a made-up memory. A utopia. A very vivid dream; the flick he receives hits him as if it were real. "It's for the kids.)
Slowly, Shouto opens his eyes. He blinks twice. Deep in his mind, he vows to revisit the dream. To feel the flick. To hear his voice again.
"They wouldn't be tabby," he says. "One of them would be, yes. The other would be orange. We'd make stupid jokes about their fur and our hair." His lips part in a sweet smile. "I don't know how many children. More than one, because the firstborn needs a sibling so they don't feel alone. Maybe three. Three is a good number."
A shaky sigh leaves Midoriya's lips.
“That's a…much more complete answer than I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
"Yes or no."
“Oh…”
“Todoroki…”
"So it's a yes," he repeats. Quieter, but no less certain. "I like him. I like Bakugou." His heart feels like it's being squeezed by three pairs of hands. "I would marry him."
“I think I’m gonna cry…”
“Did I say something wrong?”
“NO! It’s just so beautiful and kind and… My All Might, I need some tissues… Oh My God, my best friends are getting married!”
“We’re not getting married.” But I would like to.
“I wanna be a godfather!”
“You would be my first choice for godfather… Don’t tell Iida.”
"I’m not!"
[ . . . ]
Family 👨❤️👨👶👶👶👶👶
Bakugou : 7h30
@todorokishouto
[Photo of a trio of screws of different sizes and thicknesses]
Nice screws
Bakugou : 7h30
i need the fucking wrench that tightens these stupid things
you has?
Course
Bakugou : 7h31
the door is open
[3 people reacted to this message with 🔥]
Kaminari : 07:32
7am and already flirting guys
Sero : 7h32
I feel like a child watching my parents kiss for the first time
Kirishima : 07h32
I WAS TYPING THIS BRO
Sero : 07h33
BROOOOOO
Bakugou : 07h33
you. re. weird.
icyhot?
I'll be there in 2 minutes
Being alone in the same space as Bakugou Katsuki is dangerous — being in the same space with him is dangerous, in general.
Every time he sees him, a dizzying agony dances through his body like a constant, tingling cramp. His dry mouth falls open, and he has to cover it with his hand or abruptly clear his throat to keep from saying things he shouldn't. Which is difficult. Shouto almost never reprimands his thoughts, but even he understands that you don't just walk up to a friend and propose.
Even if you want to.
Shouto asked for advice. Midoriya, excited about the idea of being godfather, cried more than said anything. Uraraka, after floating in fright and hitting her head on the common room ceiling, showed him three romantic movies to inspire; good movies, but Shouto isn't sure declaring himself to Bakugou in the rain will do anything other than make them sick. Jirou said she had a song that represented his feelings well—it was true. Kirishima fainted with emotion—and asked to be godfather when he woke up. He didn't tell Kaminari; the risk of him electrocuting the entire building was too big.
The best ended up coming from Iida.
(“Todoroki, you can’t propose to Bakugou.”
"Why not?" declared Shouto, the hurted man. "Don't tell me you're homophobic, Iida. This is the 21st century."
“I’m not… That’s not the point!” He blushed like a shrimp. “But you can’t propose to someone you don’t date. It’s inelegant!”)
Just to be sure, he also asked Momo. Not to discredit Iida and his other friends, but out of all of them, Momo is the only one who's taken, so there must be a reason.
(“Have you ever thought about getting married?”
"With Itsuka? Well, I think so. We really like each other." She smiles between sips of tea. "But not now. Marriage takes time. We've only been dating for a few months, we need to take it slow. Dating, engagement... And then marriage. Maybe kids... Oh, Shouto, do you think I'd be a good mother?"
“If you promise that I will be your godfather, I say yes.”
Momo laughs.)
So, dating first. But how do you ask someone out? Certainly not like this, carrying a toolbox on the way to your object of affection's bedroom.
And even less so when the aforementioned person's room looks like a war zone.
“What villain broke into your room?”
“The hell you say…” Bakugou rolls his eyes until they turn white. “Smartass.”
Bakugou's room is, as Kaminari would describe it, the final boss room you only unlock under specific, special, and often unique conditions. Squad encounters never take place there; Bakugou didn't show the room in the first-year room preview; he always keeps the balcony curtains closed and locks the door very early. It almost seems like he's hiding forbidden or evil things.
But it's not. In fact, it's a normal room. Besides the climbing gear propped up next to the wardrobe, the most striking feature is the wall-mounted shelf displaying medals and awards earned during the last three school years, along with many—many—pro hero collectibles, mostly from All Might, Best Jeanist, and Edgeshot. It's small compared to Midoriya's, but any collection is small compared to his.
Below that, there's another, smaller, niche-shaped shelf. Mangas. Shouto counts two complete collections and three more in progress. He once recalls discovering Bakugou's taste in manga during one of his own weekly meetings with Sero.
(“What are you reading?”
"I got a rec from Bakugou. It's a different style, but the story is really cool, check it out." He flips the manga. On the cover, a couple walks under a shower of cherry blossoms. "It's shoujo!"
"Interesting."
When Shouto asks Bakugou if he can read the volume after Sero finishes, the blond's face flushes so red smoke escapes his nostrils. It was the closest Bakugou had come to exploding since the first year.)
“Did you complete the collection? The one I read?”
"Nah, the spin-off is missing. It's expected to arrive in five days. After I finish, if you want…"
“I will… Oh, is that your bed?”
“It should be, that shit. This stupid manual makes no fucking sense!”
About a week ago, an explosion was heard from the fourth floor in the early hours of the morning. Self-explanatory. No less embarrassing for Bakugou, however, to have to explain to a sleepless and worried Aizawa he accidentally blew up his own bed after waking up from a "shitty nightmare."
Bakugou had been sleeping the last few days on a leftover futon borrowed from Shouto. He'd used it the first year, so it was a much less plush model and much smaller for his current body. The height wasn't a problem for the blond, who, with a variety of clever sleeping positions in his arsenal, doesn't usually stretch out across the entire length of the mattress. But he still preferred a bed. And also…
(He squeezes the top right corner of the futon. Soft, well-used, slightly charred at the end. “Why…”
“Oh, that? I ended up burning out in the first semester.” Shouto shrugs. “Bad dream.”
Bakugou hums.
"At least yours is still usable. Mine's a mess of foam and burnt wood."
“And smelly.”
“Holy fucking smelly.”)
The manual was—brutally—tossed among the various boards that formed the bed frame. The drawings were grouped together on a single thin sheet, no written instructions or part specifications. In fact, he's certain three identical screws are being labeled as if they were different types. If that weren't enough, some steps are clearly missing.
“It’s the worst manual I’ve ever seen.”
"I said !"
“Where are the screws?”
“Here. Separated by type and size.”
He points to a corner of the floor. The screws, dowels, and angle irons have been sorted into their proper places. The screws are distributed in six piles of varying sizes. Some are as big as a thumb, and others are the size of a thumbnail.
“It came with a shitty thing.”
“Allen wrench?”
“Alien what ?”
“It looks like a skinny L.”
“Yeah, yeah, that shit.” He angrily throws the wrench into the pile. “Useless. It won’t even screw in a single screw.”
“It depends on what you tried to screw in.”
“Those big ones at the bottom.”
“The big ones will be used to fit the headboard to the bottom, not to assemble the bed frame.”
“That’s what the manual said.”
“Which you already said is shit.”
“Good to know we agree on at least one thing, Halfie.”
Shouto decides the manual is an insult to society and throws it in a crumpled ball toward the trash can. Three points!
“I don’t need a manual.”
“Uh, and what are you? A professional carpenter?”
“I like assembling furniture."
“That’s cause you have the spirit of a seventy-year-old man.”
“You’re the one who sleeps at eight and I’m the old man?” he retorts, indignant.
“Yes?”
He pulls the screwdriver out of the toolbox. It's large enough to hold his collection of wrenches of various makes and types—including a small bag full of Allen wrenches left over from assembled furniture.
The first screw is attached to the chuck key.
“That’s a terrible way to treat the person who’s going to make the bed you’re sleeping in for the next three months, Bakugou.”
"I just asked for one thing." He crosses his arms. There's that smirk he tries so hard to hide. It's a direct hit to Shouto's weak, shaken heart. "You're the one who brought a free assembler."
Shouto doesn't do any better at hiding his smile as he fits the screw.
“It's the hero's job to help helpless people.”
“I'll show you the helpless against my fists, you little neapolitan shit.”
"Now I understand why you can't assemble a bed. You need to use a wrench to fasten the screws, Bakugou, not your fists."
“Todoroki.”
It takes about sixty-two minutes to assemble the bed frame, and another fifteen minutes to fit the mattress on it. Half of that time is spent between minor discussions about the English assignment, the group's latest arm wrestling competition—Kirishima won for the fifth time in a row—and messing up the room.
“Fuck, Halfie, stop dirtying the damn floor! I cleaned it yesterday.”
A fine sand of wood shavings formed around Shouto. Understandable, since he was drilling into wooden boards to fit screws.
“I can’t screw without drilling holes in the wood, Bakugou.”
“Then drill without making such a mess, candycane.”
“It’s not a simple thing to do.”
“God. I’ll get a cloth.”
Shouto grimaces.
“The cloth will get dirty.”
Bakugou responds with an even more terrifying grimace.
“Better the cloth than my floor.”
“The floor is already dirty, why dirty the cloth too?”
“Cause it will make the floor dirtier.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Go on, get up so I can put the cloth on.”
“You’ll just give yourself more to clean…”
“My floor, my cloth. I'll dirty and clean whatever I want. C'mon, get up.”
He gets up. Now, Bakugou's cleaning issues constantly scare him with the sound of the handheld vacuum cleaner turning on every five minutes.
“Bakugou.”
"What?"
“You sound like a bitter old woman.”
A sigh.
“This might be a good time for me to test the power of my vacuum cleaner by sucking the shit out of your head.”
“I doubt my brain will fit in that little thing.”
“It will fit if I grind you into little pieces first.”
“Then you’ll have more carnage to clean up besides the wood dust.”
The vacuum cleaner is turned off. At the same time, the twentieth screw is driven in.
“You're lucky you have good arguments, half and half.”
Shouto avoids a smart-ass retort. He's been testing Bakugou's patience for the past few minutes, and it's incredibly dangerous. Each new barb he receives makes him want to get down on one knee and propose to him with two stupid nuts.
And it would be horrible. Because none of the nuts he has would fit on any of their fingers—not even the little finger.
Sometimes, Bakugou would spend a good few minutes in silence. When Shouto peeked through the strands of his bangs—which were too long, he'd have to cut them soon—he'd catch him watching closely. Bakugou's red eyes lingered on the way Shouto's hand held the screwdriver steady until the bit stopped rotating with each new screw; the way his long fingers fitted the screws into the chuck with a single twist; the way he switched bits for each type of screw; the way he cracked his knuckles to relieve the pressure of holding his hand in the same position for so long.
"I finished."
“Eh?”
“The bed.” Shouto squeaks as he stands. His back hurts. “Just put the mattress back in.”
Bakugou blinks and clears his throat. He's too distracted for someone who was so intently analyzing his work just a minute ago.
“I’m gonna vacuum this shitty mattress.”
That's where the other fifteen minutes are wasted. Unlike the bed frame, purchased on sale at the local store who delivered faster, the queen-size mattress traveled at least twelve hours before being delivered to the bedrooms, high, smelling good, soft in the hands, and firm under the back, perfect for a good night's sleep and maintaining spinal health.
Shouto almost asks if he can sleep in Bakugou's bed. Almost.
Instead, he asks a better— worse— question:
“Have you ever thought about marriage?”
Bakugou had set aside a protective cover to wrap around the mattress. It's elastic and zippered, the kind you're supposed to hug the mattress with. He was just beginning the process when he heard it. The thing was released with such force that it retracted with an abrupt jerk into a ball of fluffy elastic.
“Marri-what? ”
He had already made a move. He couldn't go back.
“Marriage. Have you ever thought about getting married?”
“I… why this out of nowhere?”
"I talked about it with Momo recently and it got me thinking." It's a half-truth. Revealing he started thinking about it because Midoriya made him consider marrying Bakugou might be too direct.
"To marry her? Cause as far as I remember, not only she’s a lesbian, but also engaged." Bakugou snorts and pouts. "What a nasty thing to do, Halfie."
"Actually, I was blackmailing her into being the best man at her wedding with Kendo. I'm not a swindler."
“Who taught you that word… Ah, Kaminari.”
“Yeah, him. Now, marriage.”
The cover, when shrunken, is twice as difficult to open. Bakugou purses his lips in frustration as he wrestles with the elastic, a fluffy pink tuft at the tips of his ears.
"I thought about it more when I was a kid, I think." He spoke softly, like someone revealing secrets. Thinking about it, it's almost like one. "I had a life plan in my head: graduate from school, get into UA, be the best, go pro, surpass All Might, get married between 25 and 30, have kids, maybe a pet or two, retire, and enjoy my old age. But that was before."
"Before?"
"After a war, a near-death experience and a death, you change your way of seeing things. I mean, it's not like I didn't think about having my own family one day, but before I felt like I needed it, not that I wanted it. It's kind of, un, the natural cycle of things? I don't know, you get the idea."
"I got it."
“Then why you keep looking at me with that dead fish face?”
“Because I still don’t get if that allows me to ask you to marry me or not.”
The cover turns back into a ball. The elastic springs back with such force it creates a red mark on Bakugou's wrist, which squeaks and bounces as if he's stepping on Lego bricks—or playing "The Floor Is Lava !"
“What ?”
“Your hearing isn’t that bad, Bakugou.”
"Of course it isn't, I take very good care of my hearing health and... Don't change the subject, Halfie. What's this story about asking me to marry?"
“It’s exactly what it sounds like.”
“Why would you wanna that?”
"It's the plan after dating, of course. But there's something about marriage that makes it performative—all that beautiful setting, wedding food, and tender speeches. Do you want to hear my vows? I was thinking about them last night when I couldn't sleep thinking about you."
"You…"
Bakugou gives up on covering the mattress and sits on it anyway. The blush around his ears is now so visible that some of it has spread to his cheekbones. Red suits him very well.
“You serious? This isn’t a joke, is it?”
“I'm very honest about feelings.”
"You're honest about everything, Halfie." He laughs softly. Those little chuckles of his, so quiet you lost if not paying attention, are rare, no less precious. "It's one of the things I like most about you."
Things I like most about you.
I like most.
About you.
A discreet bit of cold air escapes through Shouto's parted lips.
“Do you like me?”
“You’ll need to be more specific, IcyHot. There are many like meanings.”
“Would you marry me?”
"What's your thing with marriage…" Shouto's serious expression makes him choke and look away for a second. His blush deepens. "Yeah, maybe. I guess. I mean, I wouldn't mind. It would be nice. Would it? Yeah, it would… But only after dating! I'm a complex person, Todoroki, you need to win me over…"
"I'll do my best. I really like you, Bakugou."
Bakugou reaches for an abandoned pillow on the floor, presses it against his face, throws himself onto the bare mattress, and screams, in that order.
“Baku…”
An index finger is raised out of the pillow.
"Give me a fucking second." He takes a deep breath. Bad decision. He has to throw the pillow away after feeling breathless. "Fuck, you…" Bakugou puts his hand against his chest. Fast, out of sync, crazy. "You're gonna gimme a heart attack."
By all accounts, Shouto kneels beside the mattress with a look of someone who's just fallen out of the moving house, his eyebrows drooping and his lips pursed.
“I apologize, I forgot about your heart problems.”
If Bakugou didn't know him better, he'd almost miss the simple curve of Shouto's hidden smile. But he does, of course, and rolls his eyes sky-high when notices, turning and resting the face in his hands to observe his features with those ruby-red orbs, so intense and vibrant.
“Besides marrying and giving me a heart attack,” he whispers hoarsely. Shouto’s face is scrutinized: eyelashes (bicolored); eyebrows (the right one is thinner than the left); nose (cute); ears (is that a piercing in the lobe?); lips… “What else you interested in doing with me, pretty boy?”
Everyone knows Bakugou's fondness for nicknames. Not only does everyone in Class A have one, but so do the teachers, other staff, and students from other classes. Even people from other schools! Nicknames vary, and may have backup nicknames depending on the situation—like Inasa, the Baldy, who became Bleach after bleaching his little hair at the beginning of third year—and are always related to the nicknamed's characteristics, whether mental or physical.
And pretty boy is self-explanatory. It's not like Shouto has never been called handsome; on the contrary, he gets called that almost every day.
But it's different when it comes out of Bakugou. When it comes out of his mouth. The mouth so, so close to his.
“Kiss you.”
The mouth that dances in a beautiful smile.
"Yeah?" He leans in. Bakugou's eyelashes are even blonder when his eyes aren't lined with that favorite eyeliner pen of his. "Where?"
The whisper is a breeze. Very low. A little warm. Directly against the mouth Shouto had half-opened without realizing it.
“The lips.”
Bakugou hummed. “My lips?”
“On yours.”
“No one else’s?”
“Not when I can have yours.”
"What a hopeless romantic, Shouto." Saying words, even whispered, requires opening and closing the mouth. Bakugou's so close their lips brushing. "I'd kiss you right now if I weren't sweating as fuck so I'd probably blow up both of us and the brand new bed you so carefully and skillfully assembled."
“You speak as if it were a difficult task.”
"You made it look easy. Truth be told, princess, you looked delicious with a screwdriver in hand. I stared at you like a lion wanting a piece of meat, sweetie pie."
“You’ll have plenty of entertainment when I set up the furniture for the house we’ll share when we’re married, then.”
“Holy shit. I'm gonna kiss you right now and I swear if this room explodes it's your fault.”
“I take full responsibility.”
It's of general interest to know the room didn't explode. Just the pillow.
[ . . . ]
Todoroki pauses the television. It was his turn to choose what they would watch on Saturday night at the movies. The power of owning the remote control is surreal.
“I have some very important news to share.”
“On movie time?” Kaminari whines around a mouthful of snacks.
“Yes. The news can’t wait.”
“You scare us like that, Roki.”
“I would like to inform you Bakugou and I are no longer friends.”
A chain reaction: Kaminari chokes on his snacks, Jirou chokes on his choking, Mina smudges her toenail polish, Kirishima freezes like a living statue, and Sero has a five-second delay to process until he hisses like a wild animal.
"WHAT? WHEN? WHERE? WHY?”
"We…"
“You chosen yet?”
Bakugou chooses this moment to return from the kitchen with two jugs of natural juice, a much healthier and cheaper substitute for radioactive energy drink cans. He plops down in the free seat next to Shouto, seemingly unconcerned by the rest of the group's catatonic state. Equally calm, he grabs one of Kaminari's snacks and stares at the screen.
“All Might in the Silver Age?” He turns to Shouto with shining eyes.
“It was my favorite as a kid.”
“When I was a kid, I memorized all the lines.”
"Me too." Shouto loved watching this one with mom. She saved the episode so he could easily access it through his favorites shortcut.
“In Japanese and in English.”
“I’ve never watched it in English.”
"Weak."
“But I watched it in Spanish.”
"Shit."
The documentary is unpaused. At the end of the opening song, Kaminari recovers from his shock at the exact moment Bakugou has already stolen more than ten of his snacks.
“That… is a different way of being at odds.”
“Who odds?” Bakugou chews.
“You guys…?” Mina ventures.
“And why? He’s the most bearable of all of you.”
“It’s just Todobroki said…
“You two weren’t friends anymore.” Jirou’s eyes widened.
Bakugou stifles a laugh too loud for the volume allowed at so many hours of the night.
“Damn, Halfie, what a shitty way to say we’re dating.”
“You WHAT?”
“You said I could talk however I wanted.”
“And you chose drama?”
“Their reaction was priceless.”
“You should have taken a picture.”
“I was going to, but you arrived and ruined my plans and…” His mouth is covered by a palm.
“Shhh, the scene where All Might crushes the fucking World Destroyer's head is about to start.”
Ah, this scene is great! Almost as good as the still-shocked faces of the other five seeing that the weight of Shouto's votes will surely be brutally multiplied in the next votes.
Kirishima bites back a smile. "So, we're not children of divorce?"
“No, but you might get sent to the adoption queue if you don’t shut up in the middle of my movie.”
“Our movie, Katsuki.”
The other five need to slap themselves and hiss as quietly as they can in celebration. He said Kat-su-ki! Forget the weights, Shouto has the Casting Vote for life.