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Togata Mirio’s—one of the few of Bakugou’s seniors Katsuki actually respects enough to remember his name—house is a fucking disaster.
College house parties are far less chaotic than the ridiculousness, preposterousness American movies tend to exaggerate in flashy scenes. It's not that everyone is drunk or high, or that there are people kissing and making out in every corner of the house about to have sex, or that they have music at a volume that can be heard ten blocks away. No. But even so, the music they have in the room bounces off the speakers at a volume considerably louder than Bakugou's ears find pleasant, and the lively aura of all those people talking and chatting and laughing piles up inside his brain like big jenga towers of excessive, overwhelming noise. It is fucking annoying. And to add to his misery, college students are also, apparently, animals who definitely don't know basic hygiene rules and manners when they're in a home that isn't theirs. There are half-filled glasses everywhere, drinks scattered on furniture, snacks thrown on the floor (and is that a shirt and a pair of shoes?), and when Bakugou enters the kitchen for water moments later, he sees the zero respect they have for the poor room.
Togata Mirio's house is a fucking mess.
Bakugou almost feels sorry for him and everything he'll have to clean up afterwards, once everyone goes home.
He sits there, squeezed into a couch that is not at all comfortable, sandwiched between the incessant and relentless mutter of a half-drunk Deku and a cackling Sero, chortling along Kirishima of the poorly done comedic imitation that a drunk Kaminari does, standing in front of them. It's of some weird character in a movie Bakugou can't remember right now, and he knows the blonde is doing it just because it always makes Jirou laugh—and it works, the girl is holding her side on the floor, laughing hard of the goofy faces Denki keeps personifying.
It's not much different from the casual get-togethers they do with each other in their dorms on some weekends, but it's definitely a lot louder and there are a lot more people, and it's ridiculously hot. Bakugou hates being hot.
So after Bakugou is pushed onto the sofa by Sero's back when he rolls back laughing for the fifth time in 10 minutes, Bakugou gets up, irritated, and goes to the kitchen in search of water without giving any explanation to his friends.
He skips over Jirou, who is still cracking up on the floor, makes a vague gesture to Kirishima, who calls out to him from the other armchair between wheezes, and passes by Mina, who is showing off some dance moves in front of a group of senior girls.
He sneaks into the small room, is horrified at the messy way it looks, and when he's on his way back to the "great, mighty couch" (as Kaminari dumbly calls it), someone has the nerve (and great stupidity) to whistle at him and comment about how his ass looks amazing in those jeans, and about other things he would like to do with him, in such a lewd way it's actually disgusting.
Bakugou turns around and grabs the idiot by the collar of his shirt in a second, slamming him against the wall in the other, so hard that the sound his back makes against the surface attracts the attention of some people around them, even with all the loud noise. He glares at him with all the repulsion and contempt he can muster, tilts his head up in a murderous way (because he won't let the fact that the jerk is taller than him intimidate him) and hisses, menacingly.
“Oi. What the fuck did you say, fucking creep?”
The fucking asshole dares to smirk at him.
“Oh, nothing, I was just saying that your ass—”
“That’s it.” Bakugou steps back, and before the asshole can say anything more, Bakugou raises his knee and bam, there against his crotch. The extra doubles over in pain in front of him, and Bakugou lets him fall on his knees to the ground. He glares at him, still feeling deeply irritated, "fuck you," he spits to the pathetic bent down form trembling on the ground. “Next time you talk about someone’s ass like that I’ll rip your dick off. Fucking idiot.”
He turns around and stomps over his place on the sofa again, feeling a bit the elate sensation of victory of having hit a jerk rushing in his veins, until someone running to the kitchen bumps into him and spills his soda on Bakugou's shirt.
Fucking. Great.
“Ahhh,” the guy goes, “sorry, man.”
Bakugou stares at him while trying not to blow him off (if only he could make things explode—). His eye twitches.
“Ahhh,” the guy goes again. “Do you want a—”
“Forget it.” Bakugou growls, flips him off, and stomps over the opposite direction.
The boy calls out to him from behind, but Bakugou ignores him.
“I fucking hate parties.” He mumbles under his breath, feeling his shirt cling and stick to his skin in a disgustingly clammy way.
Ahhh. He shouldn't have let the good humor he was in after the amazing competition they had at the end of the year influence his good, reasonable jugdment. He should have heard his common sense and shouldn't have let himself be convinced to go with these idiots. It will be fun, they said. Hah. Fun, my ass.
He moves through the mass of people, easily avoiding unwanted conversations by the scowl in his face. (His team, that bunch of dumbasses he calls friends, and many seniors who know him already are apparently immune to it after a year, but it still serves to ward off a lot of unwanted annoyance, thank you very fucking much).
He goes up the stairs and manages to slip into a dark corridor away from the bustle; barely lit by the wall lamp at the very end of the hallway. The girl in the middle of the corridor spares him a single look before continuing her quiet conversation with her companion, not paying much more attention to him. Thank God.
He's only been there twice, but Mirio's house is small enough for Bakugou to remember it like the back of his hand.
There can be seen light iluminating the floor under the door of what should be the bathroom, but before Bakugou can curse everyone, he knocks and no one answers. He turns the knob and it isn't locked.
When he peeks over the open space, there is no one inside the room.
Well. Perfect. Finally something good.
He stretches once inside and searches in the cupboard above the sink. There is a small towel on the top shelf, as he guessed. Well. Another good thing. Bakugou puts it under the freezing water in the faucet and, when it's wet enough, he holds his shirt, pulls it away from his cold skin, and starts to scrub.
“I hate parties.” He grumbles, the stain continuing to stare back at him with disdain from over one of his favorite shirts. God fucking dammit. “Disgusting.”
Afterwards, he leans back to try to see the lame, poor result in the small mirror over the sink, and his shoe slips on something.
“Ugh, fucking disgusting.” Someone has a fucking shitty, shitty aim. “I hate parties so much.”
Parties are the scum of society.
Ugh.
“I want to go to bed.” He mumbles, irritated, as he sits on the edge of the bathtub that's resting on the side, because he is, by no means, in no way, going to sit on that dirty toilet. “Stupid parties.”
It's a lot past ten at night (a good two hours after his designated bedtime), it's hot—it's probably the hottest night in March so far, his shirt sticks to him in an icy sugary puddle of soda, and Bakugou just wants to go to his bedroom and sleep.
He sighs, cursing parties for the twelfth time that same night, throwing an arm over his eyes.
He leans back and...
“Ow.”
“What the fuck!”
What the fuck?!
He startles, jumping away in a feat that would have been hilarious to anyone. Maybe even him if he didn't feel like his heart was going to leap out of his chest.
What the actual fuck.
When someone pulls at the blue curtain that separates the bathtub from the rest of the room, Bakugou looks at them as if he's witnessing that girl from The Ring slip through the bathroom's pipes, with her dirty nails, her messy hair, and the manic smile.
“What the—”
The boy sitting in the bathtub looks at him in the most normal possible way in the world, as if they had just met in a cafeteria at noon.
Then, he glances back at the door and frowns slightly.
“Oh”, he mumbles, looking at Bakugou again. “I forgot to lock the door.”
Bakugou blinks, still a bit traumatized.
“What the fuck?”
The guy tilts his head to the side, and it's in that moment that the part inside Bakugou's brain that isn't making a ruckus trying to reason out what the fuck just happened recognizes him. The two-toned hair, the heterochromia, the scar covering his left eye, the dainty, delicate, attractive features that define the pretty face that 98% of their college population drools over.
“Are you okay?” He asks, blinking up at him, looking confused when Bakugou doesn't say anything else.
Bakugou can see the cell phone in his hands, the earphones hanging around his neck, over one of his classic V-neck shirts that, firstly, reveal way more skin and clavicle than is surely necessary and, secondly, make him look unfairly distracting.
“The fuck?” He repeats, oh so eloquently, “Are you—” Did Bakugou actually hit his head and is dreaming right now?
Why would he dream with Mr. Greenland Flag, though?
“... Yes?”
“Are you,” Bakugou repeats, glancing back at the phone resting on the guy's lap, with the screen paused; is that... “—watching anime on your phone, on a fucking bathtub?”
Todoroki Shouto.
Todoroki fucking Shouto—ace of the university soccer team, Mr. Popularity, Designated Pretty Boy from U.A. College—is sitting in a bathtub. Watching anime. On Netflix.
Todoroki blinks twice. “Oh,” he goes, and looks at his phone and then back at Bakugou. “It’s Death Note.”
“I don’t care what it is, why are you—” Bakugou stops. “Forget it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes.
What the fuck.
“Just to be clear.” Bakugou says, opening his eyes again and staring intently at the guy sitting in front of him before closing them again. Maybe he's really hallucinating. Maybe he fell asleep without realizing. “I didn’t hit my head.”
“I don’t know that—”
“Let me finish, idiot.”
“Ah.”
“I’m not dreaming, right? You’re right here, watching Netflix on your phone in a bathtub, instead of being back there at the party?”
“I’m confused. Have you dreamed of me before?”
Bakugou snaps his eyes open. “Of course not! What the fuck!”
He tilts his head again, and there's some small, small, small—and absurd—part of Katsuki's mind that actually thinks he's cute. “Then why do you ask that?”
Bakugou holds back from fucking. Gawking at him, because he doesn't want to look stupid. “Because you’re Todoroki fucking Shouto? And instead of being at the party like a normal person you’re lamely sitting your ass here like some pathetic extra?”
Todoroki looks at him, slightly wide eyes, apparently surprised. “Do you know me?”
Bakugou quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back. “Like 98% of the whole university does? Don’t be so full of yourself.”
Todoroki stares at him.
Bakugou arches both eyebrows. “Are you not fucking aware of that?” By the look on Candy Cane’s eyes, he is not. “Holy fucking shit.” Bakugou can’t believe this. “How oblivious are you, actually.”
“Uh—”
“You’re the fucking soccer team ace. Everyone knows you at college, you dumbass.”
Todoroki looks like Bakugou just told him that the sky is actually green instead of blue. Holy shit.
“But you’re the cheerleading vice-captain.” He retorts, “Aren’t you popular, too?”
Bakugou blinks, not really expecting that kind of an answer.
That is, Bakugou knows he's popular. He’s very well known around all the college, not only on his faculty, and he's aware. Some people hate him to death, some people love him to death, but everyone seems to know who he is. He shouldn’t be that surprised that this idiot recognizes him, they’ve even crossed paths sometimes, but still—
This is the first proper conversation they have.
(What an introduction, his brain supplies.)
“And you’re here too.” Todoroki points out, as if Bakugou himself wasn't aware of that fact. “Instead of being back at the party, I mean,” he adds.
Hah? Bakugou thinks, easily shaking off the initial vague surprise at the fact that the guy knows him. Is this fucker trying to make fun of him?
“Yeah, but just because some fucking idiot bumped into me and spilled his drink all over my shirt.”
Todoroki eyes the stain that runs all the way down the center of his shirt, but he hums reflexively, as if he doesn't quite believe his story despite the evidence.
“I see.” He muses. His eyes go back to Bakugou’s face, as if he was looking for something there, and then, as if he was offering him a simple cup of coffee, he asks, “Do you want to get in and sit here with me?”
As if to emphasize his invitation, Todoroki pulls the shower curtain aside, in a polite and educated manner, as if he were opening the door of his house to a guest.
Bakugou blinks. A part of him actually wants to laugh at that, because this guy is so fucking ridiculous that it ends up being funny; the other just screams in his head no, no, no.
“Ugh, no." He says, listening to his common sense. "Fucking disgusting. Do you have any idea of how many bacteria can be in there?” He shudders just thinking about it.
Todoroki doesn’t seem to mind at all, though; he just shrugs. “Okay.”
Bakugou watches him as he settles into a position that he assumes is more comfortable for him. He observes him put his earphones back on and touch the phone screen to resume the video playing, while Katsuki's brain reproduces what just happened inside like some kind of bizarre movie Kaminari likes.
Todoroki Shouto just invited to watch Death Note with him. On a fucking bathtub.
Jesus fucking Christ. He might actually be dreaming. It’s way too weird, it feels surreal.
Did Kaminari just gave him one of his famous brownies again?
He looks at his phone, at the door, and hears someone's uproarious, annoying laughter bounce upstairs without restrain or pity for his ears.
“Ugh, whatever.” He says, and Todoroki looks up at him when he pulls the curtain aside with one hand. “Move.”
The guy raises an eyebrow at his command, but besides that, he doesn't say anything.
“Don’t think so good of yourself,” Bakugou scoffs. “And don’t get me wrong. I know most people on campus would lost a leg or an arm to be here with you, but I’m not that idiotic.”
The way Todoroki's face subtly transforms; the change and glint in his eyes, the slight twitch of his mouth, as if Bakugou's ranting amused him deeply makes Katsuki want to punch him. Maybe that way he'd look less pretty. But, at least, Todoroki has the decency (and wisdom) of not commenting anything out loud, so Katsuki tells himself the punch can wait until later.
“I just don’t want to get back,” Bakugou clarifies uselessly, “because there’s like 50 more annoying people like you back there. And you’re quiet, at least.”
And that’s the only reason. Period.
Todoroki hums and the corner of his mouth tugs. He smiles at him, so small but still noticeable. “I see.”
Bakugou glares, because Todoroki’s smile is making him feel kind of… uneasy. Or something.
He clicks his tongue and nudges Todoroki’s leg with his foot, feeling annoyed. “Just hurry up and move, asshole, or I’m going.”
Todoroki quirks an eyebrow at him, and if Bakugou didn't know any better, he would say he actually looks a bit... sassy.
“I thought you didn’t want to get back?” he asks, a teasing edge in his voice.
Bakugou glares at him. “Shut up, bastard.”
Todoroki's small smile doesn't go away as he draws his knees close to his chest to make Bakugou room, so he can sit in front of him, and despite how much he still feels a little disgusted (and how much he wants to kick the idiot), Bakugou puts a foot inside the tub, then the other, and sits in the small space.
The surface of the bathtub is cold, icy against his back and his bottom when he leans back, and even in the middle of this hellish waveheat, Bakugou can't understand how this is comfortable at all.
“This is fucking freezing, holy shit.”
Todoroki shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know, I’m not that sensitive with cold.”
“Yeah, I see that,” Bakugou hisses, and then tries to stretch his legs in an attempt to get comfortable. The toes of his shoes almost touch the edge of the tub, resting next to Todoroki's hip. “Why are you here instead of looking out for a bed in a room, though? Warmer and definitely more comfortable if you ask me.”
Todoroki clicks something on his phone. “It’s quieter in here.” Well, Bakugou definitely agrees, but still. “And cold really doesn’t bother me, like I said.”
Bakugou ponders this. Yeah, but still— “Are you aware that people can get in and fucking… I don’t know, pee while you are in here?” Then, Bakugou remembers That One Incident months back, when Kaminari was drunk as fuck on his birthday. He shudders. “There’re actually drunk people who pee on the bathtub, oh my fucking God.”
Todoroki looks at him; he seems actually amused at his freaking out. Like sitting on a bathtub is normal and people getting in wouldn’t find it weird as hell. Like someone peeing on him isn’t that much big of a deal. What is this guy, even.
“You can lock the door,” he says, the side of his mouth barely quirked up. “If it makes you feel comfier.”
“Don’t treat me like a fucking kid, asshole.” Bakugou scowls. “You should be more concerned of someone pissing on you, you know?”
“I’m not saying I want that. I actually forgot to lock the door, but I was planning to.”
“Ugh, whatever.” Bakugou gets up and goes to actually lock it. And before he can change his mind and go back to the loud chaos downstairs, he goes into the bathtub again.
Todoroki glances at the way he moves to get comfortable and get his phone out of his jeans, and before he can start playing some dumb game Kaminari downloaded on it, he talks again: “You know, this is the first time someone has insulted me like 20 times in 10 minutes.”
“Yeah?” Bakugou says, very pleased.
Todoroki stares at him for a moment.
“You actually look proud of that.” He points out, but he doesn’t look bothered by it.
Bakugou smirks. “I am, Mr. Greenland Flag, I am.”
He tilts his head to the side. He honestly should stop doing that before Katsuki's mind wanders with weird thoughts. “Greenland Flag?”
Bakugou raises an eyebrow and points at Todoroki's head with his index finger. “Your hair? It’s ridiculous.”
He actually looks great, though—impossibly so for someone with such unnatural hair colors, but Bakugou is not saying that out loud.
“It’s a message.”
Bakugou scoffs. “That you’re out of hair dye?”
Todoroki shakes his head. He absentmindedly touches the white side of his hair. “It’s because my father is an asshole and he’s a redhead, so when I was 16 I dyed half of my hair the day before going into his office for work and tried to say something along ‘you may be a part of me, but I can erase you of my life this easy’.” He glances at his hands and then looks up at Bakugou again. He shrugs. “Something like that.”
Bakugou doesn’t know what kind of expression is he holding, but he’s equally impressed at what Todoroki did, equally stunned at the fact that Todoroki just overshared that his old man is a jerk (vaguely, but still) on their very first proper conversation, and equally bewildered at the itch on his hands. He kinda wants to… pat Todoroki’s head, feel his hair between his fingers, tell him he looks cool as hell. Fucking weird.
He doesn’t know what to say, so he just leans back and looks at him straight in the eyes. He decides to go for honesty:
“Well, I’ve seen your old man on TV before. He sure looks like a prick.” He says, because it's true. He does. Katsuki has thought about it before. “And he has a dickface. Is he always smelling shit or is that his actual, real face?”
Todoroki blinks. Once, twice, three times. Then, he chuckles cheerfully and snorts in a way that shouldn’t look… casually elegant, but actually does. What the fuck. Does he even do something not gracefully?
Bakugou only blinks back, taken aback for a bit at the gentle sound of Todoroki's laughing.
“Yes, that’s his real face.” He answers finally, between fits of soft laughter.
“Dickface.” Katsuki corrects, almost out of reflex.
Todoroki laughs again, low at the back of his throat, vibrating in the tender echo of the bathroom. So barely there, but there.
What a surreal thing.
“Anyway,” Bakugou tries to distract himself to not look at Todoroki’s gentle, somewhat alluring little smile; drifting his attention to his own phone instead. He leans back on the cold wall and pokes at Todoroki’s side with his foot. “Don’t bother me anymore, dumbass. Keep watching your stupid things.”
“I differ; Death Note is a classic.”
Bakugou shoots him a look. “Holy fucking shit.”
Todoroki looks confused. “What?”
“Todoroki Shouto is an anime freak.” Bakugou says. It’s not even a bad thing. Sero is one, too. And Kirishima is pretty obsessed with Naruto and Sailor Moon, because he thinks both protagonists are ‘so freaking manly’. But still. This is Mr. Mystery, Mr. Popular, Mr. Handsome. Oh my fucking god. “You’re doing a shitty poor job being a cliché jock, you know.”
Todoroki furrows his eyebrows. “Is that a bad thing?” He asks.
“Not exactly.” Bakugou shrugs. “I hate jocks. Their assholery and stupidity is immensely annoying.”
Todoroki hums.
“I get why you and Tape Elbow get along so well now, though.”
“Tape Elbow?”
Bakugou shoots him a look, like he’s completely stupid. “Sero? That guy always has tape stick to his elbows. I don’t know why.”
“You seem to have a nickname for everyone…”
“It’s called being witty.”
Todoroki seems pretty amused by that answer. The asshole.
“What would you call yourself then?” Todoroki leans in, crosses his arms over his lifted knees, and rests his chin on them. He looks up at him through his long reddish lashes with big, pretty eyes, and Bakugou is having a bit of trouble trying to figure out how such a simple move is making his stomach feel uneasy again.
Maybe he’s getting sick. Fuck no.
“Clean freak?” Todoroki tilts his head a bit to the side. “Hygiene freak?”
It takes Bakugou 0.5 seconds to know what the jerk is talking about. He explodes, making Todoroki’s little smile come alive to his face again. He sure is smiling a lot more than Bakugou had imagined he did.
“HAH? I’m not an hygiene freak, you cheeky bastard!” Bakugou pushes Todoroki's face away his hand, trying to ignore how soft his skin actually is. “And stop smirking! Do you want me to punch it out of your face?!”
“Sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t look like he is. Jerk.
“I am not a clean freak nor an hygiene one either.” Bakugou says again, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Todoroki’s pretty face, that's currently filled with joy and amusement. He looks like he's having the time of his life, the fucking ass. “I just don’t understand how people can’t do basic hygiene. They don’t have manners, fucking animals.”
Todoroki hums again, eyes sparkling prettily. “I see.”
“Shut up already, would you.” Bakugou scowls and goes back to his phone, typing aggressively on it. “You’re pissing me off.”
Asshole.
“Stop smirking.” Bakugou mumbles just after.
“You’re not even watching me; how can you know I’m smirking?”
“I don’t need to; I can feel the smug asshole vibes coming from you.”
“Hmmm.”
Bakugou kicks him on the side, not enough to hurt but enough. Instead of getting angry, Todoroki just seems very pleased with himself.
Idiot.
Todoroki doesn’t say anything more, though. He clicks something on his phone and lets Bakugou be on his own while he puts on his earphones again.
Despite the initial vague annoyance and the cold-as-fuck surface where he’s sitting, somehow being there is a lot better than being on that sofa back on the first floor.
Apparently, Todoroki is incredibly silent while watching something, hyper-focused on the screen and just occasionally humming or mumbling something. Bakugou enjoys the comfortable silence, the loud conversations just a background noise seemingly much far away than between those four walls.
He steals a few glances at the guy sitting in front of him, now that he's finally silent. He's wearing expensive-looking jeans, and a black V-neck that looks ridiculously good on him, and some comfortable sport shoes. Now that he's distracted, Bakugou can actually pay attention to some more details about him, like the way his bangs are a bit too long, and the way his lashes flutter and make his eyes look big, and the way he's so pretty it shouldn't be allowed.
Of fucking course, he's, in no way, saying that out loud. He's bringing that thought to his grave.
Bakugou glances at the bare column of his neck, and then at his long fingers, and then realizes he's being pretty fucking weird and focuses hard on his phone instead.
What the fuck, Katsuki. Don't be a creep.
Yeah, okay, the guy is hot. You have eyes. It's not your first time seeing a hot guy.
It's your first time seeing someone this hot and cute, too, though. His mind supplies like an afterthought.
Shut up. Katsuki tells himself, and then opens an app in his phone and starts playing at something randomly so he can stop being weird as fuck.
At the end, Bakugou actually gets carried away in the game. He plays on his phone for a few rounds, scrolls through a book he hasn’t been able to finish all month, and is half-way asleep when Kaminari finally sends him a text.
Dead battery: kacchan!!!! 2here are uuuu???? u didnt cme back after gping tothe kithen and whenn iwent to loook out for u i didnt find u!!! u werent anyhwere!!!! are u dead?!?!? izu is going t kiLL me if u are!! i AM gonnaaa kill myslf if u re!!! dont be dead!!!! pls! !!!!!! ! !
Bakugou blinks his sleepy eyes at his phone’s screen. Judging by all the typos, Kaminari must be drunk. Not-quite-there-yet-but-getting-there shit-faced probably. The message is practically unreadable, but Bakugou had mastered understanding drunk texts like the professional he is on everything.
A minute later.
Shitty Hair: are u okay man??? where are u?? mido is dead asleep and denki is crying bc we cant find u, sos.
Pink Alien: BAKUGOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! DID YOU ACTUALLY LEAVE US HERE AND LEFT ALONE??????? NOT COOL.
Pink Alien: You weren’t kidnapped, right??????
Pink Alien: Oh my god, were you???????
Jesus fucking Christ.
He types a fast reply so they stop freaking out.
(It kind of moves him how deeply worried they are, though.)
Bakugou, to “Bakusquad” group chat: I’m fine, idiots. Just in the bathroom. I’m getting back now, stop flooding me with texts.
The answers are immediate. And annoying.
Earphones: Mina was about to call the police
Pink Alien: I WAS WORRIED!!! And ahahaha, everything alright, bakuking? you were there for like two hours HAHAHA
Anime freak: you were in the bathroom? LMAO
Shitty Hair: oh, sorry to interrupt bro
Earphones: what did you eat, though LOL
Bakuking: I hate you all so much. I wasn’t IN the bathroom, assholes, I was just trying to escape hell down there!
Earphones: Sure, sure
Anime freak: i bet it was the pizza from before
Earphones: maybe the breakfast he took in the morning? He didn’t look that great
Bakuking: you fucking—
Bakuking: .I. fuck you all. I’m not doing breakfast ever again
Shitty Hair: I didn’t say anything!!!
Anime freak: kirishima, you traitor
Shitty hair: sorry bro, i love his omelets
Anime freak: oh shit, you’re right. sorry bakugou!!!
Bakuking: stfu already or I’m not giving any of you a ride back.
(He actually wouldn’t do that, and the idiots know it, but they have the decency to actually stop texting after that, except for a simple answer.)
Shitty Hair: okay okay. we’ll be waiting at the front door!!!
He sighs.
“Well, that’s it.” He says as he gets up. Todoroki looks up at him when he sees the movement and takes his earphones off. “Idiots finally wanted to get back so I’m going now.” Bakugou clarifies, putting his phone back on his jeans pocket.
“Oh.” It's the only response.
Bakugou nods. “I’m falling asleep, too, and my ass is fucking freezing. If I didn’t get up soon, I’m sure it would have fallen off.”
Todoroki’s little smile comes back to his face. Ah, shit. “Okay. Have a safe trip.”
Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment.
He steps out the tub and shoots him a last long look. It'll be kind of hard to get that smile off his head, but he won't think about that right now.
“You too, anime dumbass.”
Just as he’s about to close the door behind him, he hears Todoroki talking again, “Goodnight, Bakugou.”