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In the aftermath of the war, class A is closer than ever. Fighting on the frontlines does that to a group of traumatized teenagers after all. By the start of the third year, Shouto has no problem admitting that all of his classmates are very important to him and that he is important to them as well.
Most of his classmates would say the same in a heartbeat, except, well-
Shouto’s eyes stray back to Bakugou in the locker room, who’s currently yelling in Kirishima’s face about his new failed test.
“Whoa,” Kirishima steps forward and pokes Bakugou’s chest, “Have you been working out more? You look extra manly today!”
Bakugou stops in his spluttering tirade, “What did you say, shitty hair?”
Kirishima gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, “Nothing, just that you look good, Bakugou!”
Shouto isn’t sure if he imagines what happens next, but Bakugou’s lips wobble, as if he’s unsure whether to smile or frown. His eyebrows pinch together, but not in his usual angry scowl. His ears are crusted red.
“W-Whatever! Just don’t fail again next time, bastard!” Bakugou declares before he puts his shirt on at lightning speed. Kirishima just smiles as if he’s used to it.
Shouto stares at Bakugou, slightly perplexed. Was Bakugou flustered? It made sense for someone to be embarrassed about a straightforward compliment, especially someone like Bakugou, yet…
Shouto’s mind recounts Bakugou’s red ears and his stammer. Somehow out of character but totally fitting at once. For no reason at all, he wants to see it again.
***
The next time this happens, it’s a total accident.
Shouto had been trying to figure out this math problem for the better part of ten minutes. He’s been extra slow about his calculations and double-checking his work, yet the answer he gets still doesn’t make sense at all.
Midoriya is next to him, working on the same thing. His quiet mumbles mixed with the scratch of his pencil are a bit distracting, but Shouto doesn’t mind much. Bakugou is sitting across the both of them. Midoriya had asked for his help originally, and despite loudly complaining, he still pulled up a chair.
“You still haven’t gotten it, Izuku?” Bakugou snaps, “Or you, Icyhot?”
Shouto shakes his head as Midoriya blurts out something akin to an apology.
“Ugh, look,” Bakugou snatches Shouto’s workbook and pencil straight from his hands. He proceeds to explain the entire question from head to toe, while showing his work in the space given.
Bakugou’s words are smooth and sure, confident in his answer and his ability to teach it. Shouto remembers back in his first year when he was surprised that Bakugou, of all people, had ranked higher than him on their written midterm. He hadn’t known that, below all his rage and ego, Bakugou worked hard in school and deserved pretty much every accolade he received.
Shouto just watches Bakugou’s neat handwriting print out the answer step by step, and the small smirk that spreads across his face as Midoriya gasps in gratefulness.
So, logically, Shouto says: “Thank you, Bakugou. You’re really smart. I can see why Kirishima always asks you to tutor him.”
Bakugou turns his head away, “Of course I am! Way smarter than you for sure, Icyhot!”
This time, Shouto watches carefully as a trail of pink ignites Bakugou’s cheeks and how he purposefully tries to hide it by jabbing his pencil towards the next question.
***
In the following weeks, Shouto sticks to Bakugou a bit more than usual. Nothing too obvious, but he may or may not inch closer every time they stand next to each other. Bakugou doesn’t seem to mind or notice, at least not yet.
They were supposed to be sparring right now with no quirks. It’s one of Shouto’s least favourite practices. He’s well aware that he’s more dependent on his quirk than some of the others, but his quirk has a use in most situations anyway.
Bakugou clearly does not feel the same, as he charges at Shouto with no mercy. His eyes blazing and fierce as Shouto narrowly dodges his punch. Bakugou had always been slightly better in raw hand-to-hand, and Shouto’s not surprised when Bakugou sweeps his legs out from underneath him and practically jumps on him to prevent him from getting up.
Bakugou’s always been incredibly serious about winning in literally every scenario, so Shouto just let him have this one after he realizes there’s no way to get out within five seconds.
“Ha! I win again, half n’ half bastard!” Bakugou sits up a bit so that his legs are straddling Shouto’s waist, his hands pressing down on his chest.
He can feel the line of heat radiating from the warm body above him, seeping past his clothes and into his skin. He can feel Bakugou’s weight on his thighs, can feel the firm muscle shifting on top of him. As Bakugou talks, his gym shirt rides up just a bit, flashing Shouto with a strip of pale skin.
It’s all so distracting as Shouto’s eyes trail back towards his face, lingering on the bead of sweat trickling down his neck. Bakugou still has a fierce expression, eyes sharp as he spits out something about Shouto’s combat skill that he should probably listen to.
Shouto realizes that Bakugou’s eyes are very red, ruby and scarlet mixed into a colour that Shouto can recognize anywhere. His eyelashes stand out too, long and thick, as they fan over his cheek when he blinks.
“Hey!” Bakugou flicks his forehead, “Are you even listening?”
“You have pretty eyes.” Shouto blurts out.
They just stare at each other for a moment, Bakugou’s eyes widening as he shifts back. Shouto can feel his legs tense up on top of him.
“What the hell are you saying?!”
“You have pretty eyes,” Shouto repeats, “And eyelashes too. They’re very long.”
Okay, the second part came out of nowhere, but he can’t take it back now. Bakugou’s face freezes up, and his aforementioned eyes blink aggressively. His face flushes, a shade too pink to be blamed on the exercise as he leaps off Shouto’s body.
“Don’t say shit like that, you weirdo!” Bakugou shouts at him, “And listen when I speak to you next time, dammit!”
True. Shouto was being bad-mannered. “Okay, I will.” A pause before something urges Shouto to tack on, “But I do think your eyes-”
“Just shut up already!”
When Bakugou storms off, his face is still flushed.
***
If Shouto thinks about it, it makes perfect sense that Bakugou would react this way to compliments. He’s tried–and failed–to build a facade that didn’t allow anyone to see his weaknesses before. His walls were never as thick as he seemed to think. Midoriya got through to him first with a lot of genuine patience and compassion that Shouto doesn’t think he has himself.
Nowadays, Bakugou is a lot better. He acknowledges his friends as friends and cares for them all in his own aggressively helpful ways.
But Shouto is not one of his friends.
He thinks they’re somewhere along the cusp of friend and rival. Not someone Bakugou would include in his little friend group, but definitely familiar and friendly (?) with.
They don’t talk alone much, and Shouto thinks that’s a real shame. Maybe Bakugou blushed all the time around his friends, and he just isn’t around to see it.
Shouto doesn’t know exactly why he wants to see Bakugou flustered. He is curious about how red he can get and how far someone can push it before he literally explodes. Isn’t it normal to wonder things about your classmate?
Regardless, his next opportunity presents itself when the whole class goes to the mall again. Bakugou complains, but he tags along anyway.
Halfway through, when everyone meets up for lunch again, Bakugou loudly declares, “I’m going to that new ramen place!” He turns and starts walking away, shoulders slouched like usual.
“Got it!” Kirishima calls back. He seems to be heading somewhere with Kaminari and Mina.
Wait, isn’t this the perfect opportunity to get close and talk alone with Bakugou? None of their other classmates seems to be following.
Shouto reaches forward and grabs Bakugou’s wrist, “Wait, Bakugou, let me come too.”
Bakugou snatches his hand away in an instant, “Hah?”
“I’m coming with you. To the new ramen place,” Shouto then realizes he forgot to frame it as a question, “Is that okay?”
Somehow, that seems to piss him off, “Why are you asking me if it’s okay? You can do whatever you want, half-and-half.”
“But I don’t want to tag along if you want to be alone.”
Bakugou grits his teeth before he starts walking away again. Shouto deflates and starts to look for Midoriya’s green head before:
“Are you coming or not, idiot?”
Shouto almost feels childishly giddy as he follows Bakugou, two steps behind, like how he likes everyone to walk while they’re with him.
“I didn’t know you liked spicy food,” Bakugou says after a minute of silence.
“I’m not the best with spice,” Shouto admits. He prefers things with lighter and milder flavours like soba and soup.
Bakugou gives him a weird look before he cackles, “What? You do know the place we’re going to is known for its spice levels, right?”
Shouto only stops his steps for a second, but Bakugou caught it anyway, “No way! You didn’t know?”
Shouto admittedly did not know. Maybe he could just order a drink or a mild side.
“You gonna chicken out?” Bakugou smirks gleefully; something sparkles in his irises that makes Shouto want to rise to whatever challenge he’s offering.
“Of course not.”
Shouto eats his words pretty much the second his order is placed in front of him. Bakugou looks nothing short of thrilled, not only excited at his noodles but at the hesitance that must be plastered all over Shotuo’s face. Bakugou had forced them to order the same thing. The spiciest ramen bowl on the menu sits in front of him, and Bakugou is seriously expecting him to eat it.
“So?” Bakugou goads, “Scared now, Icyhot?”
Shouto shakes his head, but the broth just seems way too red for him to say anything. Just the scent alone is a bit overwhelming.
“How about whoever loses has to buy the winner whatever they want?”
Shouto frowns, “Loses? We aren’t competing.”
“We are!” Bakugou insists, “Whoever stops eating it first loses, obviously. And no using your quirk to cool you down!”
Shouto’s going to lose. They both know it. But he must sacrifice some comforts for friendship. “Okay. Deal.”
The bowl is too spicy. Way too spicy.
Shouto regrets it after his second bite; Bakugou is halfway through the bowl before he slows down even a little.
“Had enough yet?” Bakugou chides.
Shouto’s tongue feels numb from the heat, the neckline of his shirt is dampening with sweat, and he can’t register anything aside from the painful spice burning his taste buds. But Bakugou is looking at him, his face is red now too, but it’s not as satisfying as the flustered look Shouto’s seen before. Bakugou’s grin is wide and shameless, chilli oil stains his mouth, and Shouto wants to wipe it off and taste it.
(Wait, what?)
Bakugou slurps around another mouthful, leaving only a little left. Shouto wants to see him smile at him again.
“I give up.”
As he thought, Bakugou smiled. It’s a vicious one, tinged with the aftermath of victory, showing his dimples and perfect teeth.
“I know exactly what you’re buying me,” Bakugou says, standing up, already reaching for his wallet.
Shouto follows, asking: “Aren’t you going to finish it?”
Bakugou scoffs, “No, it’s a bit too spicy for me, too. But I can’t lose to a mild idiot like you.”
“Mild?”
“You like soba, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” Shouto confirms, “I didn’t know you knew that.”
Bakugou shrugs, but he walks a little faster so Shouto can’t see his face. Bakugou leads him to the hero merch store, where the new All Might figurine has just been released. Shouto always thought Bakugou’s fanboy side was surprising, but he likes Bakugou’s small smile as he browses the large All Might collection in the store.
He really likes Bakugou’s smile, Shouto confirms. He likes the way it lights up his entire face and softens the harsh lines of his mouth. He likes how Bakugou is shamelessly abashed about his joy, bigger than life itself in his laughter. It also makes Shouto look at his lips more, staring at the soft curve of them when he’s happy.
“Just kidding, you don’t have to get it. That shit’s expensive,” Bakugou says, though his eyes linger on the new figurine, “You can buy me something else-”
Shouto walks up to the checkout line with the All Might figurine in hand without a second thought.
“Wait,” Bakugou stops him, “You’re not buying me that.”
Shouto tilts his head, “I am.”
Bakugou shakes his head furiously, “That’s, like, 40,000 yen!”
“You said I had to buy you whatever you wanted.”
“I didn’t mean for you to blow your money like that, dumbass!”
“It’s okay, Bakugou,” Shouto reassures, “I can afford it. My old man gives me a large allowance every month.”
That seems to convince Bakugou a little, but he’s still disgruntled, “That’s a lot of money for a random bet.”
“I don’t mind,” Shouto places a hand on Bakugou’s arm, “I like seeing you smile.”
A strangled sound comes from Bakugou’s throat, and his arm jerks away as he rubs his nape. His eyes dart furiously around the store, looking everywhere but Shouto. His cheeks redden as he digs his shoe into the ground. He doesn’t say anything until they’re leaving the store, and he lightly tugs on Shouto’s shirt.
“T-Thanks, I guess,” Bakugou mutters. He ducks his head before slowly peering up at Shouto through those goddamn eyelashes. “For the money you spent on me.”
He looks…really-
“No problem,” Shouto replies, “I’m just glad you’re happy.” Bakugou’s cheeks darken even more.
-cute.
***
Finding Bakugou Katsuki cute would’ve been an impossible task for Shouto two years ago, and Bakugou’s only become slightly less outwardly hostile since. It’s not too strange to acknowledge someone’s attractiveness, right? Even if Shouto has the weirdest urge to reach out and pinch Bakugou’s red cheeks randomly throughout the day.
Ever since that day at the mall, Bakugou seems to be more comfortable with him. He’s no longer asking why Shouto wants to sit with him and is willing to make small talk—the thing he usually despises. Their new closeness has Shouto feeling all kinds of unexplainable sensations.
Shouto wouldn’t mind, but these new feelings are starting to disrupt school life. He’s had to reteach himself the lesson or ask Yaoyorozu for help because he couldn’t pay attention. Whenever he’s on the cusp of daydreaming, his eyes stray back to the head of spiky blonde hair hunched over in his seat. His side profile when he’s concentrating is actually very nice, with a tall nose and his scar dotted over his tanned cheek.
He considers it a problem when he zones out and thinks about the mole on Bakugou’s neck for the majority of the class. He decides to get advice from Midoriya, who’s a good guy and also knows Bakugou the longest. Surely he can offer Shouto some of his wisdom.
When he asks, though, Midoriya just gapes at him. His bright green eyes are getting impossibly larger.
“Midoriya, are you alright?” Shouto is getting a little concerned at Midoriya’s wide-eyed speechlessness. Is he having some sort of seizure?
Midoriya’s mouth opens and closes a few more times, “Uh, y-yes, Todoroki-kun. Uhm, do you want my help to confess to Kacchan?”
Shouto frowns, “Confess what?”
“Your feelings?” Midoriya asks, puzzled, “Your crush on him?”
He has a crush on Bakugou?
When Shouto doesn’t say anything, Midoriya rubs his temple the way he does whenever he’s tiredly exasperated. “Todoroki-kun. You do know it’s not normal to think about licking oil off Kacchan’s mouth?”
Well, when he put it like that.
“I guess,” Shouto agrees slowly, “I don’t know if I would describe it as a crush.”
“I would,” Midoriya says bluntly.
“I wouldn’t. I think.”
Midoriya sighs, clasping a hand on Shouto’s shoulder, “Look, just think about it, okay? If you do like Kacchan, I can help you tell him. Or help you forget about it, maybe.”
“Alright. I’ll do that. Thanks, Midoriya,” Shouto nods. He leaves the conversation more confused than he was at the start.
A crush means that he likes Bakugou romantically. A crush means that he wants to date him, to be a couple. Shouto has no experience with crushing or dating, so he’s basing his knowledge on the rom-coms they’ve watched as a class.
Couples hold hands and cuddle. Couples are intimate. Couples are special to each other. Couples are in love.
So, theoretically, if Shouto wants to do all these things with Bakugou, then he must like him. Which is why he likes to see Bakugou’s red face and lick his mouth.
Okay. Shouto concludes, lying on his bed while staring at the ceiling. That’s easy enough.
***
Shouto doesn’t know if he’s ever held Bakugou’s hand before. He’s surely grabbed his arm or wrist, maybe he even did it recently, but his hand? Not really.
Shouto doesn’t spend a lot of time with Bakugou over the next week as schoolwork piles up for both of them. He puts this logical experiment with his emotions at the back of his mind until they’re alone in the locker room after training. Shouto took an extra-long shower, and Bakugou came in late due to his usual incessant need to prove his victory even over the time limit.
They keep to themselves as Shouto towels off the water dripping from his hair, and Bakugou aggressively shoves his gym clothes into his bag. However, Shouto is not a saint, and his gaze does linger when he catches the familiar sight of Bakugou’s sculpted torso and sinfully small waist. He also catches the droplets of blood trickling down Bakugou’s wrist.
“Are you bleeding?” Shouto asks, his voice echoing in the mostly empty locker room.
Bakugou’s head whips towards him, “Stop staring at me, half-and-half!”
Shouto ignores this, “You’re bleeding.”
“So what?” Bakugou tucks his hand behind his back as Shouto begins to walk closer, “Hey, what are you doing?!”
“I just want to see if you’re really injured,” Shouto says. He thinks it’s a valid request.
“Stop worrying about me, what the hell?” Bakugou backs away, but Shouto snatches his wrist in time. There is a thin, bloody cut slicing down Bakugou’s palm. Nothing severe, but blood is still welling up.
“Oh. It’s not too bad.”
Bakugou yanks his hand back like he just touched Shouto’s fire, “Obviously. I can handle a fucking papercut.”
“I never said you couldn’t,” Shouto points out as he rummages through his own bag for the stack of Band-Aids he knew he kept tucked away, “But I have a Band-Aid.”
Bakugou glares at him with the force of a thousand suns, “Are you trying to play nurse now? I don’t need your damn help. The cut will heal on its own anyway!”
“It could get infected,” Shouto couldn’t understand why Bakugou was so averse to basic assistance when he was in his first year. He still can’t really grasp it now, “I would hate for you to be in more pain.”
“I’ve literally died.”
“Yes, I know,” Shouto pauses, “You probably shouldn’t mention it so casually, though. Midoriya still gets-”
Bakugou shoves at his shoulder aggressively, “I know that, you airhead!”
Taking his outburst as his chance, Shouto grabs Bakugou’s wrist again, tightening his grip so he can’t pull away. “Stay still.”
Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t twist his arm away like a child getting their first vaccine shot. He stays put, eyes glued to where Shouto’s thumb rests just a centimetre below the bleeding cut. In the time they spent arguing, the blood hadn’t stopped. Bakugou remains quiet as Shouto peels open the bandaid, and he twists his head upwards to avoid eye contact. As Shouto places the bandaid, he presses down gently.
“Okay,” He states once he’s finished, “You shouldn’t get infected now.”
Bakugou’s hand was still in his. His skin is smooth and warm as Shouto gives it a gentle squeeze. He swipes his thumb over Bakugou’s knuckles, suddenly possessed with the urge to bring it up to his lips as if he’s some noble prince asking him to dance. He might have imagined Bakugou’s flushed shiver.
All too soon, it’s ripped away.
“Don’t just stand there, Icyhot,” Bakugou grumbles, already swinging his bag over his shoulder.
Shouto does, in fact, stand there for moments even after Bakugou’s long gone. He stares at his hand, the same hand that just touched Bakugou’s bare palm.
***
Holding Bakugou’s hand wasn’t bad. Shouto kind of wants to do it again.
Not that he can see it happening again anytime soon anyway. Even Kirishima and Midoriya don’t grab his hand casually, much less someone like Shouto. He imagines a world where he could. He can just reach over the table and intertwine their fingers together.
He goes to bed that night with a head full of questions and awakes a mere three hours later with a start. His clock flashes 1:30 AM. His hands are white from forcefully clutching his covers as he gasps out large gulps of air.
It’s been getting better lately, but Shouto still sees the blazing blue of Touya’s fire sometimes. The crisp, burning heat stares him in the face, a sharp contrast to how cold it was when it finally ended. The way Touya’s face was nothing more than a frozen, weeping skull. How Natsuo and Fuyumi couldn’t do anything but watch as they crumbled into each other’s arms. How his mother’s tears froze before they touched the ground.
Shouto has a routine whenever this happens. He knows it’s futile to go to sleep now, so he gets up and changes out of his shirt, damp with sweat and goes downstairs for some water.
The quiet calms him. It makes him remember that this was two years ago. His mother was doing much better now. Fuyumi was engaged, and Natsuo came over for dinner just last week. Everything is okay.
He blames his flighty mood for jumping when the lights turn on.
Bakugou stands there, shirt slipping off the side of his shoulder and equally as shocked as Shouto.
“What are you doing here, Halfie?” Bakugou asks. His voice lacks any of its usual bite, sounding weary instead.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Shouto answers truthfully.
Bakugou snorts, bare shoulder brushing against him as he passed, “Turn on a damn light then. I thought there was an intruder or something. I was preparing to beat you up.”
“Of course you were,” Shouto sounds weirdly fond, “No worries, I’m only here for water.”
“I know, not that I couldn’t beat you even if you were an intruder,” Bakugou replies as he starts digging in the pantry.
“What are you doing?” Shouto wonders aloud, coming up behind him.
Bakugou stiffens for just a second before answering: “Don’t stand so close, dumbass. And I’m looking for tea leaves.”
Shouto raises an eyebrow. “You like tea?”
“It helps with sleeping and stuff,” Bakugou mumbles, already walking towards the kettle, “Which is what you’re down here for too, so I don’t wanna hear it.”
Shouto isn’t a huge tea drinker, but his mother is. Thinking about his family now, though, only makes his chest ache. “I’ve heard of tea being beneficial for those with trouble sleeping. I don’t know if tea can get rid of nightmares, though.”
Bakugou pauses in his movements, turning around to face him once more, “You had a nightmare?”
Shouto nods slowly. Nightmares were commonplace after the war. In their second year, it was nearly impossible in the first few weeks to go one night without startled screams or muffled cries. Most of the class still have them; they just got better at hiding the aftereffects.
Bakugou simply hums, his red eyes casting downwards, “Me too.”
Shouto frowns. He knew Bakugou’s nightmares were particularly bad last year. It got to the point where he was regularly exploding things in the dead of night in a fit of panic. Midoriya had helped him, and Shouto hadn’t heard much about it since. “Oh. Are you okay?”
Bakugou shoots him a glare devoid of all malice, “Don’t worry about me. A dream is nothing.”
“Nightmares aren’t an indication of weakness, Bakugou.”
“I never said they were, damnit!” Bakugou scowls, “Neither of us is fucking weak!”
They stand in silence for a moment, and the low night air makes the distance between them feel smaller.
“I guess you’re right,” Shouto admits quietly, looking down at his feet, “It’s unfortunate that I have to dream about the worst of my family when they’re so much better now.” Shouto wonders if he’s too honest. He’s not used to keeping harmless thoughts to himself, but would Bakugou feel uncomfortable? Shouto is technically trauma dumping on him.
“Well,” Bakugou is next to him now, his bare shoulder brushing up against Shouto’s, “I dream about my death, and I’m clearly alive. That’s stupider if you ask me.”
Shouto remembers when he was told that Bakugou had died. Sure, he came back, but his heart is unstable, and his right arm is almost unusable. Just the idea of Bakugou’s death had been so overwhelming for him to hear and think about, much less the idea that it had already happened. He saw the footage later, the sight of Bakugou’s pale body, mouth dotted with blood and ferocious eyes uncannily lifeless.
Bakugou is looking at him now, his ruby eyes bright with something akin to concern. He flicks Shouto’s forehead, “You still there, Todoroki?”
Bakugou doesn’t use his name a lot, so Shouto savours the syllables falling from his lips.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Shouto tilts his head back, staring at the dim light of the kitchen, “I just can’t believe you really…”
Bakugou snorts, “Died?”
“Yeah.” Shouto lets out a breath, “You might not even be here right now if Edgeshot was a second late.”
He looks at Bakugou’s face. His defined nose and skin glistening under the dense lighting, his tuft of spiky blond hair looks extra fluffy and mussed. His eyes are aware, alert, alive. There’s a thick scar on the side of his cheek now, jagged and dark against his flawless face.
That scar is not like his own. It comes from Bakugou’s acts of courage, not from neglect and shame.
“Hey,” Bakugou pokes at his chest, “You’re staring again.”
“I’m sorry about your death, Bakugou.” Shouto blurts out. Bakugou splutters.
“Huh? You’re not the one who fucking killed me, bastard. Not that you could even if you wanted to,” Bakugou folds his arms indignantly, “You were doing some crazy shit too.”
“I suppose.”
“Yeah, you suppose,” Bakugou scoffs, “I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Icyhot.”
Shouto smiles; it feels natural. He smiles a lot around Bakugou lately. “Thanks.” And then, “I’m happy you’re alive.”
“Stop saying that as if I was gonna let myself die while losing! I’m not gonna drop dead again.” Bakugou growls, grabbing Shouto's hand in a rough grip, “Look for yourself how fucking alive I am, Half-and-half!”
Bakugou brings two of Shouto’s fingers below the junction of his jaw and presses down. Immediately, Shouto can feel the steady beat drumming beneath his fingertips, rhythmic and thrumming with life. He leans closer and stares intently at his fingers, as if trying to commit the rhythm to his memory. Bakugou starts to lean back, so Shouto uses his other hand to keep him still by the hip.
“S-See?” Bakugou chokes out, tense under Shouto’s touch, “I’m alive and well, bastard.”
“Yeah, I see,” Shouto breathes softly. Their faces were merely inches apart. Everything was still except for the pounding of Bakugou’s heart and the travelling blush over his face.
Feeling bold, Shouto lets his thumb glide over Bakugou’s chin, tilting his head up to properly see him. Bakugou is red from his collarbones to his hairline, lips quivering as if he wants to curse but thinks better of it.
(Shouto entertains the idea of closing the gap between them.)
“You’re flustered,” Shouto says gently. It feels intimate to speak so close to each other in whispers, especially with Bakugou’s face so hot it looks a shade away from steaming.
“I’m not!” Bakugou lurches away, ears crimson. He reminds Shouto of a jumpy kitten.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Shouto reassures, “You look very cute.”
Bakugou looks like he is about to explode. He looks uncharacteristically frazzled and uncertain. His gaze darts all over the room. He reaches out with a shaky hand to weakly push Shouto away. “Don’t say stuff you don’t even mean!”
Shouto tilts his head, “I’m simply being honest, Bakugou. I really think you’re cute.”
Bakugou’s shoulder trembles. His mouth opens and closes around nothing. His expression is a mix of embarrassment and aghast.
“G-Go back to your room and sleep, you weirdo!”
With that, Bakugou walks towards the forgotten kettle on the table. Shouto is strangely satisfied. He likes that he can pry down Bakugou’s walls and see the awkward, fumbling teenager below. He leans against the counter, “Can I have a cup of tea before I go?”
“Do whatever you want!”
***
Class A has been having movie nights for the past two years. Once every two weeks, most of the class settles down on the couches and takes turns picking a movie. Shouto really likes movie nights, not only for the film, but for the sense of community as well.
Shouto always sits in the back on a huge beanbag chair. It’s big enough for two, but most of his classmates like to sit closer to the screen. Though sometimes, Midoriya and Sero join him.
Midoriya is next to Iida today on the couch, and Sero is sitting in the very front next to Kirishima and Kaminari.
“Hey.”
Shouto turns to his right. He sees Bakugou slouching with his hands in his pockets, a conflicted expression on his face. Bakugou has been showing up for more movie nights lately compared to the past, but he always sticks with Kirishima.
“Hi, Bakugou.”
“I’m sitting with you today.” And with that, Bakugou settles down, knocking their elbows together and slouching down even further. Kirishima passes by them and flashes Bakugou a thumbs-up. Bakugou flips him off. Before Shouto can question the exchange of gestures, Bakugou is suddenly so close. Their shoulders smashed together, and the tips of their shoes inch closer every time Bakugou manspreads further.
“Oh, okay,” Shouto nods. The movie starts playing. “Why?”
Bakugou looked offended that Shouto would even ask, “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Icyhot!”
Shouto has noticed Bakugou’s tendency not to communicate his feelings properly and to let others do the job for him. It’s often that Kirishima would explain Bakugou’s true intentions behind his string of angry curses. Bakugou likes to show his care for his friends through subtle but kind gestures. Perhaps he prefers others to do the talking when it comes to the better side of him.
“That’s fine,” Shouto tries to sound encouraging, “I enjoy your company too, Bakugou.”
Bakugou splutters, completely appalled. “That is not what I said.”
“We’ve known each other long enough to the point that I can tell what you’re trying to say with your actions.”
“Don’t go assuming anything about me, you fucking candycane,” Bakugou jabs his finger into Shouto’s shoulder.
“So you don’t enjoy my company?” Shouto deepens the knit of his brows, trying to appear distressed. He likes to use his supposed airhead nature to his advantage sometimes.
Bakugou coughs, pushing him hard, “Fuck you.”
That’s pretty much a confirmation that Bakugou likes to be around him. Shouto considers this a win.
For the next hour, Shouto watches the movie and occasionally Bakugou. Bakugou glares at the screen.
The clock had just turned 11:00 pm, which is usually when Shouto tries to go to bed. The beanie he’s sitting on isn’t helping either. The material is so soft and comfortable, letting him sink and relax his sore limbs from a long day of training.
Shouto could feel his eyelids getting heavier, almost closing them completely, before something flops against his shoulder.
It’s Bakugou. Asleep. His neck had started to tilt toward Shouto, and he was leaning on him heavily. Bakugou’s brows were furrowed as he shifted restlessly. The angle of his neck looks painfully awkward. Shouto gently reaches out and props his head back up in its original position. Of course, Bakugou isn’t so compliant even asleep. His head drops back down again at full force, falling directly on him.
Shouto is suddenly very still. He shuffles around a bit more, letting Bakugo basically invade the entire right side of his arm. Bakugou’s head rests on his shoulder, spiky blond hair tickling Shouto’s chin, his arm sprawled over and loosely wrapping around Shouto’s wrist.
Bakugou is sleeping on him.
What is going on?
Strangely, Shouto feels as if a poisonous python were crawling up his arm, and any sudden movements would have him killed.
But Bakugou wasn’t poisonous at the moment. He looked much more at peace now. His face relaxed as it burrows against Shouto. The dim light from the movie cast shadows from his eyelashes on his cheek, his pink lips open just a hint for him to breathe in and out.
Shouto sits as still as he physically can, yet Bakugou somehow takes this as an invitation to get even closer. His head drops from Shouto’s shoulder to his chest, shifting so that his leg is over Shouto’s knee. Bakugou’s pressing close enough that Shouto’s arm, which was stuck between them, was starting to get numb, so he snakes it around Bakugou’s waist.
“Hey, Todoroki. Do you have a charger?”
Shouto almost jolts at the sound of Mina’s voice as she peeks over her seat. She freezes, stares, and then screams:
“Oh my god, Bakugou is cuddling with Todoroki!”
It’s almost funny how the whole class whips their head around.
“Woah,” Kirishima blinks, “He’s really going for it.”
“It’s about time, dude,” Sero jeers, but he sounds surprised too. Shouto feels comforted knowing that Bakugou doesn’t do this with all his friends.
Midoriya’s mouth is gaping wide, his eyes as wide as saucers, “Why is Kacchan c-cuddling with you, Todoroki-kun?” He sounds like he’s about to faint.
“I don’t know,” Shouto admits, “I think he just fell asleep.”
“Fell asleep on you? Yeah, sure,” Mina giggles.
Someone whom Shouto thinks is Hagakure says, “Are you guys dating?”
Shouto shakes his head, “No, we’re not.”
Hagakure tilts to the side, “Are you guys fucking?”
Shouto shakes his head more rapidly, “No, we’re not.”
Shouto is sure he would see a smirk on her face if she weren’t invisible. “Would you like to be?”
It’s a straightforward question, Shouto’s favourite. He thinks about it for just a second. What would it be like to date Bakugou and cuddle with him like this every day? What would it be like to kiss him? Not just on his pouty mouth but on his forehead, his tuft of spiky hair, his flushed cheek, or his pale neck?
Shouto furrows his brows and tries to picture the scenario. Kissing away Bakugou’s scowl, wrapping his arms around him, pushing him down on the bed and-
With a start, he sets the couch on fire.
***
Obviously, everyone started freaking out. Obviously, Bakugou woke up and leaped off him like an angry cat. Obviously, Bakugou slapped him on the head and stomped away like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Obviously, everyone in the class knows that Shouto likes Bakugou.
He still can’t wrap his head around it. Him? Liking anyone? Bakugou of all people? Romance is bothersome and bound to cause trouble.
Regardless, he decides to sit next to his classmates in the common area and wordlessly sulk while staring at the side of Bakugou’s beautiful face. He’s currently cooking. Bakugou always looks so concentrated on anything he does; his steely determination looks wonderful against his angelic features.
“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya doesn’t even look away from his homework, “This is getting a little pathetic now.”
Shouto doesn’t look away from Bakugou either, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sero groans. “Come on, dude! It’s been nearly a month of this weird staring thing going on between the two of you!”
Shouto hums and drops his head down on the table. Bakugou’s biceps look even bigger from this angle.
Midoriya puts down his pencil and fixes Shouto with the most deadpan expression he’s ever seen, “As a close friend of both of you, I think you should just tell him. I think it’ll go really well.”
“Mhm.” Bakugou is licking sauce off a spoon. He seems to like what he tasted because his lips quirked upwards with a cute, victorious grin.
Midoriya doesn’t bother with advice anymore as he turns back to his work.
***
The next time they’re alone, a couple of their classmates make Shouto crash in Bakugou’s room for some video games. It was strange how all of them seemed to leave in a hurry after an hour or two. But throughout the whole hangout, Shouto can sense that Bakugou is acting differently.
He’s not as snappy or grumpy as he usually is, he keeps clearing his throat as he loses his train of thought, and he refuses to look Shouto in the eyes for long.
“Bakugou,” Shouto asks after Midoriya just left, “Are you alright?”
Bakugou’s head snaps towards him, “Why wouldn’t I be, Icyhot?”
“You’ve been acting fidgety and avoidant.”
“No, I haven’t!”
“You’ve been distracted and haven’t looked at me this entire time.”
Bakugou scowls, “How do you even know that, dumbass? Did you spend the whole time fucking staring at me or something?”
“Yes,” Shouto says truthfully.
Bakugou’s mouth slams shut with an audible snap. His eye twitches violently. “What?”
Shouto can hear his breathing pick up in speed. He inches closer on the bed, their fingertips a few centimetres away.
This close, Shouto can smell the faint hint of Bakugou’s shampoo from his shower earlier. “I like looking at you.”
The familiar crawl of red began spreading across Bakugou’s cheek. His ears are practically steaming. “You weirdo, w-why?”
Shouto’s chest feels constricted, tight with emotions he doesn’t know what to do with. So instead of overthinking his response, he opts for honesty.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
And wow, if Shouto thought Bakugou had been red before, it was nothing compared to his blush now. It nearly matched the shade of his eyes. Bakugou’s breath hitched loudly, his gaze darting to the side. He’s almost…shy.
Shouto’s heart is pounding. Each beat resonates loudly in his ears. For a moment, the two of them just sat there and stared.
Then Bakugou said, “You better not be lying to me, Todoroki.”
He sounds so hesitant, voice soft and meek. It’s so unlike his usual gruff persona that Shouto freezes up for a second. His face has now faded into a pretty pink, plump lips bitten with nerves.
“I’m not lying,” Shouto says without thinking. His voice is closer to a hush, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
Before Shouto can even begin to process the statement that he just said, Bakugou silences him by smashing their mouths together.
Shouto freezes for barely a second before he surges forward, looping Bakugou by the waist and pulling him in. This is his first kiss, yet all his frustrations and worries over the past few months culminate in a kiss that leaves him light-headed and out of breath.
Bakugou’s lips feel so soft, and he’s so eager. He kisses him with bruising force, opening his mouth and latching onto Shouto’s lips like it's a lifeline. Tongues slide into mouths, and Bakugou makes this amazing whiny sound. Bakugou tugs him in by the neck, forcing him closer and closer-
When they part, Shouto takes in Bakugou’s dishevelled appearance. The quiet panting from red, swollen lips, the fluttering of his eyelashes, and his sweet, warm scent overtaking all of Shouto’s senses.
It’s Bakugou who breaks the silence again, “Don’t you have something to ask me?”
Shouto blinks, “Something to ask you?”
Bakugou’s pissed again, but he isn’t pulling away, “Yes, you idiot! Anything at all?”
Frankly, Shouto finds it hard to think when Bakugou’s halfway on his lap, and Shouto just shoved his tongue down his throat.
At his confusion, Bakugou pinches him, “Come on, Icyhot! You think I would initiate the first kiss and do this too?”
Wait, Shouto’s seen this scenario in a movie once. This is the perfect chance to ask Bakugou out. Granted, he probably should’ve done so before they started making out.
“Of course,” Shouto nods, “Would you like to be my boyfriend?”
Bakugou kisses him again. It’s less frantic this time, tinged by a slow fondness dripping all over Shouto’s ribs. He can really get used to this.
“So, is that a yes?”
Bakugou flushes again, and Shouto can’t decide if it’s out of impatience or embarrassment. “Yes, I’ll be your fucking boyfriend! You think I go around kissing anybody?”
Shouto doesn’t really like the thought of Bakugou kissing anyone but him: “You shouldn’t kiss anyone else.”
“Obviously-”
Shouto cuts him off with their third kiss. Bakugou usually hates it when anything interrupts him, but judging by the ruby flush on his face, he doesn’t mind it at all this time.