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“Do the two of you normally have fun training together?” the interviewer lady asks. She seems nice enough to Shouto. She’s come all this way to ask them about their first successful outing as heroes, that can only be good. This is what Shouto wants to be, a hero who makes people feel safe, and that’s what they did.
Bakugou is much less calm about this.
“Does it look that way to you? You should get your brain checked!” Bakugou says, somewhat off-put, clearly.
“We’re friends,” Shouto says, because to him, it’s obvious and it’s true.
Bakugou doesn’t seem to agree though, “Huh? Don’t just say random stuff! Since when have we been friends?”
“We spent a lot of time together because of the supplementary classes, right?” Shouto says, calmly. He still doesn’t see what the big deal is. All that time, all that working together. They’re friends.
“What kind of system is that?” Bakugou snaps. “Spending time together doesn’t mean that we’re friends.”
Oh, Shouto notes, keeping the expression on his face impassive. He still sort of thinks that they’re friends. But that’s fine. He’ll remember that. If something like this ever comes up again.
*
13 months later
When Bakugou said, “Oi halfie, c’mere” forty-five minutes ago, Shouto really thought this meant they were going to go up to his room and kiss each other senseless.
That’s what it meant the last many times, and just when he thought he had nailed down a pattern...rude.
He even borrowed Ashido's strawberry chapstick this morning. Just in case.
This time it just means sitting on Bakugou’s bed with their books open on their knees. Him watching Bakugou tap the end of a pencil against his own mouth. It would be nice to be that pencil.
“Hey! You haven’t turned a page in five minutes,” Bakugou glares. His eyes get so big when he’s mad. A little scary. Maybe. But scary and pretty. You can see all of his teeth when he snarls like that. Sometimes he spits when he talks like this too, but Shouto’s gotten used to it.
He tilts his head to consider Bakugou’s face even more. So much golden pink, ashen blonde, and there's red in the eyes. Pretty, catlike eyes. So red. Shouto's never liked red. Even, and especially his own, but red with blonde is as good as red has ever looked to him. Oh. Soft, golden dandelion hair.
“Half and half bastard! Are you in there?! I’m talking to you,” Bakugou snaps his fingers in front of Shouto’s face. “Don’t ignore me.”
“I’m taking my time.” With what I cannot (or will not) say.
“Yeah?! What have you written down from this chapter?”
“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell,” Shouto offers. That’s in this chapter. It’s in this chapter a lot. For some reason, the author of the chapter thought it was very important.
“Fine. Okay. What’s an endoplasmic reticulum? Can ya tell me that?”
Shouto flips to the textbook index, since Bakugou never said not to use the book, “If you really want to know.”
He’s running his finger down the list of words when Bakugou rolls his eyes, “That’s cheating. You’re impossible.”
“You’re worse.”
They’ve had this stalemate before, Shouto knows how it ends. Neither of them break eye contact, they just wait to see who cracks first. Shouto wets his lips. He waits another few seconds. He pulls at the collar of his own shirt to expose more of his collarbones, just an inch. He loosens his tie, just a bit. (These are all things he had once done without knowing what it does to Bakugou, but he’s since been told explicitly that they ‘drive him crazy’. Later he had clarified with a sigh, ‘it makes me want you, in that way, Icyhot, that kind of crazy’. So then...why not use what he’s got? Bakugou himself told him to never hold back in a fight. Didn’t he?)
The other boy takes a breath and exhales. Shouto’s been staring at him so hard he can watch his chest rise and fall. He’s so well-built...around those places. His chest, the stuff of dreams. Almost there.
“Fuck it,” Bakugou throws his own book aside, grabs Shouto by his shirt and pulls him into his lap. Yes. Hot and cold hands find firm shoulders and the two of them finally get to kiss on the mouth. He sighs against the other boy's lips. Sweet. Victory.
The sounds Bakugou makes back to him are indelicate and pretty. Somehow these days everything to do with Bakugou is pretty.
Right now is good. Right now Bakugou's content and satisfied while he's normally barely a notch above simmering and frustrated. They should make a book about just right now and print the way Bakugou looks right now on every page in full color.
He sinks into Shouto like he's been waiting for it all day. Chases the feel of him, his mouth, and his hands. Like he couldn’t survive without it. More and more. Like they'll never have enough time even though every second of kissing him seems to last several sunlit days. At least to Shouto, who isn't used to this kind of sunshine.
Studying can wait until sometime later. Mmm, it feels good to want. Shouto slips his tongue into his not-boyfriend’s mouth, warming it to make it good.
It feels good that you want me too. At least, right now. Like this.
*
It's hard to stop. At least for Shouto, since once he's gotten his hands on that chest. Fingers in that fluffy blonde hair. That mouth wet and hot against his, gasping pieces of his name (his real name, which Katsuki never says otherwise and has about a million alternatives for). Would it even make sense to stop? No. Of course not.
They do though. Coasting and slowing until Shouto does the novel thing that is resting his cheek against Bakugou's chest. Tucking his head under the other boy's chin. It feels right and he wants to. He wonders why he's never tried it before.
Bakugou stiffens for a second. Then he relaxes. He doesn't throw him off. Or yell about it.
"Later," he says gruffly instead.
It takes a second for Shouto to process this. Though he still doesn't get shoved off. Which interests him. Bakugou actually waits for him to sit up, then pushes him back towards the other side of the bed, his hand pressing firmly back against Shouto's chest. As if keeping him closer is a risk that they'll just do it all over again (it is).
Shouto just scratches at the back of his neck like he's seen Izuku do when he's nervous (living all together now, they pick up each other's ticks).
Okay. He's never been a great conversationalist. Especially after they do that. It makes his head cloud with memories and pictures of it. He can't stop thinking about it and replaying it over in his brain. About how he liked the way it felt. Whether or not Bakugou liked it that much too and for the same reasons.
“So now can we study?!” Bakugou demands, regaining his bearings a little quicker, though still visibly flustered.
“I never said we couldn’t study. You’re the one who jumped me.”
“As if. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on me,” Bakugou scoffs. His mouth is red and kiss-swollen. That was me, Shouto thinks happily, victoriously.
(It's okay with him if Katsuki wants to claim that it was Shouto that gave in. More than okay when he looks like that and makes Shouto feel like this. )
"You're more appealing than the assigned reading."
He leans in to give him another kiss, just a peck this time. Then runs his fingers over the bruise he sucked onto Bakugou's lower neck before sitting back and picking up his book again. He's feeling giddy and it has nothing to do with the page open on cellular organelles below him. I actually left my mark on him.
“So damn handsy,” Bakugou looks away, but Shouto can tell that he’s blushing, even as he violently starts making notes again. “Brought you here to read. Don’t come crying to me when you fail! Expecting sympathy or some shit!”
“I won’t.”
“Why?” Bakugou narrows his eyes, suddenly suspicious.
“I went over most of this chapter already, yesterday. With Izuku.”
"What??"
"I feel prepared enough. We spent hours on it. He made us memorize all of the charts. He really wants to do his best on this."
Bakugou facepalms and groans. He tends to do that a lot, Shouto wonders if it’s a habit he picked up as a child, and has an image flash in his mind of a small Bakugou facepalming at his mom. Huh. “Of course you were with that shitty nerd earlier.”
“Don’t worry,” Shouto clarifies quickly, “I didn’t kiss him like I kissed you. Or at all.”
“I wasn’t worried about that! No one kisses me and goes around looking for better.”
“Who else have you even kissed?” He asks. Not at all jealous. Not in the slightest. After all, Bakugou is sure to have kissed other people. People that are probably better than Shouto, who picked up everything he knows about romance from the Internet, Fuyumi’s soap operas, and their last few encounters.
“Hah. Wouldn’t you like to know!”
“Yes, that’s why I asked.”
“Well, no one...I just know that Deku couldn’t possibly do better!”
That first part seemed to have been hard for him to say. And the second pretty easy.
Shouto is really tempted to come back with: you can’t know that, if you haven’t kissed anyone except me, then you haven’t kissed him. But he thinks better of it. Just this one time. Saying that is the kind of thing that might lead to no more kisses for him. That’s a risk he won’t take for anything.
“Don't worry about it. You are the best I’ve ever had.”
"I'm not worried! Stop saying that!"
As usual Katsuki doesn’t respond to genuine compliments by doing anything but seeming deeply offended. If this were a cartoon or anime there would be literal steam coming out of his ears. He’s also the human equivalent of: (ง'̀-'́)ง. Shouto likes him more for it.
He doesn’t mind the lack of an overtly warm reaction either. He’s come this far with Bakugou. He can keep following his gut instinct. Instinct tells him to call it like he sees it, and let Bakugou come to him in his own time and in his own way. He will, he has. Shouto doesn’t like or need these types of things particularly fast. He’s grateful for whatever it is they have.
Except when it comes to kissing Bakugou, for which he’s (clearly) particularly impatient. For anything else, especially for this, he’s willing to wait and let things work themselves out.
“If you’ve already gone over the biology, you can use my math textbook to do the math stuff! Don’t just sit there and look at me.”
“Thank you,” Shouto goes over to his desk and takes the blue textbook out. It’s a nice hardcover copy. Katsuki always keeps all of his school stuff so nice and organized. He never makes notes in the margins (Izuku does) or folds down the tips of pages to mark his spot (Kirishima does that). He owns proper bookmarks and doesn't shove random objects between pages when he walks away (Kaminari, all the time). He treats books so properly, other than turning the pages a little aggressively. It's sort of cute of him to be such a stickler about it.
They’re studying advanced algebra now. Which is fine. Math follows a lot of predictable rules and Shouto doesn’t mind it. He actually studies for a good twenty minutes. Before he looks up at his totally-platonic-makeout-partner again. Bakugou looks different. Oh.
He’s wearing glasses. Shouto has never seen him wear glasses. They’re rounded, and black rimmed. Matching the little bit of black eyeliner he also wears. He hasn’t noticed Shouto’s staring, he’s focusing so hard. Shouto reads his notes from upside down. He’s drawing a diagram of a cell. He’s shading it.
He’s cute like this. He’s adorable. The axis of the earth shifts at that moment. 404 Shouto.exe is nowhere to be seen.
“I didn’t notice that you wear glasses.”
“Yeah, and nothing gets past you, does it?” Bakugou snaps. But he also looks at Shouto and waits. Holding onto any further verbal snipes until Shouto can finish his own complete thought.
“Are you keeping it a secret?”
Shouto racks his brain for other instances where he’s worn them. Nothing. This is a secret. Secret. Cute glasses. Secret.
“It’s not a secret! I usually wear contacts, but my eyes get dry sometimes. Happy?”
But you’ve never worn them outside of this room. Maybe not for anyone...but me.
“I’m not happy that your eyes get dry, maybe you could use eye drops like Mr. Aizawa uses.”
“Stop talking about my eyes!”
“I like the glasses.” They’re cute. You’re cute in them. You would be cute in anything. You would be cute in nothing. You. Glasses. Cute. He’s not sure why seeing them makes him stop being able to focus on anything else, could that be, teenage hormones or something?
“Go back to your...equations or whatever.”
Hmm. Alright. That’s that conversation finished. The glasses however live in his head rent-free from that moment, for the rest of eternity. No, really.
*
Shouto doesn’t ask Izuku directly. Because he isn’t that dense. He could easily get found out this way. If Bakugou’s glasses are a secret, then it’s not his secret to give away.
“Do you know if anyone in our class other than Iida wears glasses?”
“No, I don’t think anyone does.”
If anyone would know it would be him, right? If he doesn’t know then that means that Bakugou took specific care to not wear glasses even one time during all of middle school. Assuming he didn’t wear glasses as a kid.
He phrases the same question to Kirishima slightly differently. But still trying to stay subtle, adding nothing that could tie this back to Katsuki.
“So. Do you think wearing glasses is manly?”
“I guess so, yeah? Actually, sure.”
If Kirishima did know and had seen it, he would have answered a lot more strongly and affirmatively. Right? Unless he was one step ahead of Shouto, and just that good at keeping the secret. Shouto wouldn’t put it past him. Kirishima is an amazing friend. Either way, that means it is a secret.
It’s such a small thing. It doesn’t even mean much, really. Most people wouldn’t bother to hide it. It’s almost unreasonable to. But Katsuki did. He went that far to hide the most minor weakness. And he showed it to me.
*
They’re not dating. Or are they? Shouto considers it every single day. They’re two people who can't even admit to being friends for one televised interview (Bakugou's fault). But they sometimes kiss on the mouth, and get involved in rapidly evolving over and under the clothes action. Where is the line, exactly.
A long time ago Bakugou had said that he couldn’t just assume they were friends because of how much time they spent together. Going by that, he can’t assume that they’re dating just because they kiss.
Does the invitation to go (kiss? again???) in Bakugou’s room at night make a difference?
It’s hard to tell. Yeah, he texted Shouto directly, and asked him to come. But he was a mystery over the phone too.
>> come over
<<Why?
>> dont then, its not a test or anything
<<No, I want to come.
>> then hurry up
When Shouto showed up, he was already in sleeping clothes. He opened the door for Shouto but then just went back to the bed and checked his own phone. There was a space left empty, next to him, given how unnaturally scooched close to one side of the bed he was.
Now Shouto's just standing there straight as a rod, which should’ve been more awkward. But he finds himself doing this a lot in life. He’s used to it.
Katsuki looks up, after a second, “You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it or anything. I just thought...because of earlier.”
He doesn’t say it too loudly, like he does almost anything else. No obvious grimace, just subtle frustration or difficulty of some kind. Like the quiet, and the dark, and the night is muffling him so all he’s left with is low and raspy. He couldn’t possibly be nervous, could he?
Empty space. Empty space on the bed. Empty space. EMPTY SPACE.
The second Shouto figures it out he moves faster than he’s ever moved before in his life. Like Katsuki’s nerves and his nerves came together and made a new fast-moving heart-beating quirk...If he’s honest, he’s not sure how permanent his being allowed to call him Katsuki even is. He was corrected only once, when they were making out the very first time, when he exhaled ‘Bakugou’. Does that still apply? He keeps going back and forth in his head. Bakugou or Katsuki. What he wants is to call him Katsuki. Could he do that?
Earlier today he wanted to cuddle with Katsuki. He seems close to getting that now, as he’s sitting down together on his bed, side-by-side. What should come next is a mystery to him. They’re already so close that Shouto can breathe in his familiar sweet smell. Their legs are under the same, cool blue sheets. He thinks about it. Intently.
It probably wasn’t easy for Katsuki to invite him up here. No. It definitely wasn't. He's probably sitting there now and regretting it. Because of the way Shouto's acting cold. No. Shouto doesn’t want to be the one that ruins this.
Okay. So Shouto closes his eyes and leans in, aiming for where he thinks Katsuki's mouth might be, his left hand coming up to graze his jaw. Which is warm, even in the cold of the night. He presses one kiss there, aims true after all, then draws back, an inch or two, before doing it again. The light smacking sounds of it feels so loud in the quiet of the room. But the feeling is good. It’s nice and slow. Their earlier kisses were always so frantic. And honestly a little rough. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just. This is nice too.
“I like kissing you,” he says, because he feels like it. No other reasoning required.
“Fucking good,” the other boy replies.
Oh, is he going to do it now?
Bakugou throws himself against Shouto's middle. His eyes closed tight and his face pressed into Shouto’s neck. It's a big move, done in one clean motion. Not several, timid, small ones. Just his style. No room for interpretation.
There's no demand. No threat. No "hold me back, idiot". Even though Shouto wouldn't have minded. The other boy just exhales, and Shouto can feel his warm breath. The rustle of the fabric, their shirts and the sheets as Katsuki adjusts himself over Shouto.
That means when he said ‘later’ before, he meant it.
Shouto adjusts to the weight on him and the feeling it gives him before holding him back. His right arm comes up to wrap around Katsuki's back. His left resting in layers of fluffy blonde hair.
"Katsuki, it’s only eight thirty. Are you really going to go to sleep?” (He uses the question to also confirm whether or not he’s still allowed to call him Katsuki )
“Yeah. Why, have some place to be?!”
“No, I just always assumed when you went up by yourself so early, you were doing something.”
“Hell would I be doing?” he grumbles, as if Shouto is the most unreasonable person in the world.
“Anything, reading, sudoku, calligraphy. Origami.”
He has the fun little image of Katsuki, aggressively folding down corners of paper and making a paper crane. It’s not that out of the question, is it? It requires a lot of precision and training. He lowers his hand that’s stroking through Katsuki’s hair onto his back, maybe it’s distracting, the way he keeps rubbing circles into his scalp. He is trying to sleep.
“Put it back.”
Oh. You liked it. The thought makes him happy. The giddiness of that, plus the relaxed nature of this position, with Katsuki’s rhythmic breathing from on top of him. It lulls him into sleep right away. He’s never had his arms full of someone else. He’s never had a problem with temperature. But this is warm in a different way.
Shouto’s also never had a problem with sleep in general. He goes to bed, closes his eyes, and it comes. There are nightmares sometimes that wake him up, but they never stop him from actually falling asleep. When they do happen, he shakes them off and falls asleep again.
The boy in his arms seems to fall asleep quickly too, so he doesn’t suspect it.
They do this three more times before he figures out that it’s not quite the same for Bakugou. Not quite as easy.
It’s because the third time he gets invited up it’s an hour late. 9:30 instead of 8:30. Even though as long as he’s known him, and stayed in the dorms with him, Bakugou has always aimed for 8:30 when he could control it. Why the change, now?
“I was wondering. How long does it usually take you to fall asleep?”
“Takes longer when you’re talking,” he grumbles.
“Sorry.” Shouto backs off. If there is something, he doesn’t want to make him talk. Or force it out. It’s not like you could get very far with Katsuki by forcing anyway. It’s also not his thing.
There’s a beat of silence, then another during which Katsuki presses his face into Shouto’s shirt, muffling his sound, though the bite in it is unmistakable. Obviously, he hates how long this takes him. “Hour. Give or take a couple minutes.”
...So you really sleep at 9:30, closer to ten. The extra hour is just to build up to it. You just don’t need it, when you sleep with me.
He tries not to think of what it could be that might keep him awake. Even though the thoughts and theories come anyway. Are you faced by the things that have happened to you? To us? It would be fair, if you were. They were awful, horrible things…
“Then I’ll try not to keep you awake.”
It’s nice to be able to take care of someone who knows him, and maybe likes him. Someone whose trust is hard to win, and it’s given to Shouto of all people. He knows there’s nothing about him that would suggest that he could be good at this, or even knows how to do it.
They’re not dating, but if he could be with somebody like that...Shouto would want something just like this.
*
It’s him that starts off all the texting. At first Katsuki used to text him to tell him when to come over. Then it started to become the default that he came over, and he started to text him when not to come over.
Shouto’s the one that starts updating Katsuki about his day. It’s a little silly, since they take the same classes and live in the same dorm. It’s just that it’s a lot easier for him to talk over text than in words, he likes sending candid photos of what’s going on around him. Sporadic insights into his latest thoughts and theories. The replies aren’t even that encouraging.
>> do i wanna know?
>> stay away from that
>> im deleting ur number
He considers stopping, until one day he does it when Katsuki is in the same room. He’s just come downstairs, and he remembers a picture of himself he took right when he woke up that morning. With his hair sticking up weird. He took it specifically for Katsuki, who always seems to find his bed hair particularly funny.
It’s not often that Shouto gets to see what it actually looks like when Katsuki reads his texts. He’s across the room, in the middle of a conversation with Kirishima and Kaminari. But he stops mid-rant to check the notification and his hand comes up over his mouth. He’s covering up a wheeze or a giggle.
“Seriously, dude who keeps texting you?” Kaminari asks. “You keep checking your phone and smiling.”
“I’m not smiling.”
<<No response. Should I be offended?
>> nah ur ‘beauty’ made me speechless
<<You can’t talk anymore?
>> (...sarcasm, Icyhot)
<<Oh. I thought nothing could shut you up
>> shows how much u know. im full of surprises
Is this flirting? Shouto wonders. Certainly, no one else but him seems to make Katsuki laugh like that. If they did, he might have to ice them. This is his territory.
*
At one point, Bakugou texts him to come to his for their nightly sleepovers a few hours early. This makes no sense. Since he’s not sleepy just yet. There’s also no studying to do. They just got done with a round of exams. They’re in the clear. What is this? Are they finally going to have it out so that Katsuki can exorcise whatever pent-up frustration he’s had about their matchup in the sports festival all that time ago? Shouto’s willing. But that’s not really an inside activity.
<<Is something wrong?
>> with me? yeah, but its too late to fix it now
<<Can I help?
>> nah, like i said, beyond help, specially urs, r u coming or not
<<On my way.
The second he comes through the door (it’s unlocked for him these days) he gets a book chucked in his face.
“Ow,” he says, a little delayed after the impact, because he’s had much worse, then he picks the book up off the ground. This is a volume of a manga that he owns. It might even be his copy.
“Did you steal my book?”
“You like this shit, right?” Katsuki asks, “Do you wanna see the anime together or something?”
“I didn’t know you like anime.”
“I don’t, do you wanna watch this with me or not?”
“Yes,” he says, even though he’s seen the entire thing before. This kind of invitation might not come his way again.
Once he sits down on the bed Katsuki maneuvers him so he’s sitting in the vee of his legs. He leans back and rests his back against the other boy’s chest. The laptop is already queued up to episode one. Shouto holds it on his lap so they can both see. Then hits play.
He falls asleep like that six episodes later. In the middle of a boss fight no less. He doesn’t remember the laptop having been taken from his lap. Or being moved so that they’re lying down on the bed chest to chest. Just that he wakes up like that. To Katsuki’s face just an inch from his own. His fluffy golden hair touchably close and visibly soft.
It takes a lot of self-control not to kiss him awake or something else that he might find too sappy. Plus, while Katsuki is asleep, Shouto can pretend that this is his boyfriend holding onto him so tight. Mine, my Katsuki. If only.
*
The not-relationship they have is not a secret. At least, it isn’t a secret from Izuku. Shouto tells him everything (well, almost everything), and briefly has a panic when he realizes that Izuku is exactly the person Katsuki would not want to know about this. Given their...history.
A breach of trust like that might exactly be the thing to end the not-exactly-relationship they’re having. So he just bursts into Katsuki’s room and confesses.
“I told Izuku that I kiss you sometimes.”
Something flickers on Katsuki’s face, but it’s not anger, it almost looks like amusement.
“WHY WOULD YOU fucking do that?!” Katsuki starts, he stands up, and starts waving a finger at him, then pokes it hard into Shouto’s chest, “You never should have told him!”
Something is weird about this. The way Katsuki is yelling at him is...inorganic. It doesn’t have the usual fire or spunk.
“I understand if you’re upset with me.”
“Yeah, I’m so fucking upset,” Katsuki repeats, fixing him with an intense stare. Then his face crumbles, and he laughs, he laughs and he kisses Shouto and he laughs again, “I...damn...sorry I can’t keep that going…”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re always with that shitty nerd, I knew it was going to slip out of you. I never told you not to, did I? You’re always out there...just saying what’s on your mind. It’s fine. I don’t care.”
“You ...don’t care.”
“Yeah, that’s what I just said! Fucking listen for once. I don’t care. Don’t go around advertising it, but I knew you were going to tell him anyway. I’ve had time to...make my peace with it. You and him being all...that.”
“You’ve made your peace with something.”
“Did you just come here to repeat everything I say or what?!”
“I came to be with you.”
“Then sit down, be with me or whatever the fuck. Don’t just stand there and wait for me to be mad about something I don’t even care about.”
Shouto sits down, “Do your friends know?”
He doesn’t know exactly what there is to know. He just knows there’s something.
“‘Course those nosy shitheads know.”
“Are we friends?” Shouto asks. This one he’s sure about, but it would still be nice to hear it. Just to confirm. (It’s been more than a year. Maybe almost two since it was explicitly denied). Also, he wants to explicitly be Katsuki’s friend so bad he’s about ready to combust with it. Maybe literally.
Katsuki tilts his head at him, he looks so confused, “Yeah, ‘course we’re friends. We’re—What the hell, Icyhot?”
He almost looks hurt. Or the Katsuki expression for hurt, moist eyes, narrowed gaze and a thin veneer of hurt anger. Which doesn’t make sense. Why would Katsuki be hurt by this?
When Shouto considers the whole situation with them, he does get why ‘what the hell’ would come into the equation. Especially since they’ve cuddled together and fallen asleep together almost every single night, and Katsuki still reaches out so cautiously now, in the light of day, to pull Shouto into his arms. When they do crash together though, Katsuki’s grip on him is firm. Assuring.
His fingers feel so good in Shouto’s hair. He feels so secure and steady and Shouto wants to be able to hug him all the time. Whenever he wants. Mine.
Katsuki is still talking, but not really to him, more like thinking out loud maybe, “So perceptive but so dense...I thought...fucking fine.”
Shouto’s not sure what he’s talking about. It doesn’t matter though, as long as he keeps stroking Shouto’s hair and rubbing at his back like this. He can say whatever he wants. He can call Shouto every name in the book. As long as he keeps holding him and doesn't let go for anything.
*
Holding hands feels like it would be a big step. At least that’s what Shouto thinks before it happens. He doesn’t expect it to happen during a random outdoor mall outing. Normally when they go out as a class, he’s with Izuku and their friends and his cuddle-in-the-night-partner has his own group of people he likes to hangout with. But this time, Bakugou takes his hand the second they arrive there and yanks him to his side. He’s walking so fast he’s practically dragging Shouto along.
Shouto barely has a moment to shoot an apologetic look at Izuku, before he realizes that Bakugou’s normal group isn’t following them either. What.
“Ice cream, wanna treat you,” is all he gets as an explanation. “They’ve got their own shit.”
Then Katsuki holds his hand the entire way to the ice cream place. It’s a warm day, so it’s sweaty but it’s hard to mind. It’s hard to mind anything with the way his heart is going. A meteor could hit the Earth and he might not even mind it as long as he’s still holding Katsuki’s hand when it makes contact and brings armageddon.
When they’re right in front of the store, he shoves Shouto towards the sign up front, “What do you like?”
“Anything is fine.”
“Decide.”
“Strawberry,” he says, then he gets hit with a spark of genius, “Let’s share it.”
“Fine.”
Two scoops of pink ice cream with two spoons. Shouto may have died and gone to heaven. Is this a date? It’s bad to assume. He assumed once, a long time ago, that they’re friends because of how much time they spend together. Katsuki had said no then. Maybe it’s better not to assume.
“Well? How is it?!” his friend-whom-he-kisses-sometimes demands.
“Cold.”
Katsuki sighs at him exasperatedly. He takes a bite using the wrong spoon. It doesn’t matter, Shouto supposes, since they’ve kissed.
“Hey halfie, can you even get ice cream headache?” he wonders out loud.
“I don’t know, I could try,” Shouto says, and he takes a way too large bite, because that’s how it happens right. Too cold, too much. “Nothing.”
He waits a second, maybe it takes a little while, “Still nothing.”
“Hah? Maybe you didn’t have enough,” Katsuki takes an equivalent size bite, then Shouto observes his features freeze.
Katsuki just grimaces, then puts his index finger to Shouto’s mouth to indicate that he not speak. Oh. He has the ice cream headache.
“Sorry,” Shouto tries to say, even as Katsuki’s remaining fingers close over his mouth.
“Shuddup, s’fine, m’fine!”
(In his mind, even though he doesn’t know it for sure, Shouto counts this as their first real date.)
*
He doesn’t know why he tells Katsuki about watching his siblings playing ball in the courtyard. It’s just easy to, with the way they’re folded together so close. They’ve just finished an episode of an anime Shouto chose specifically for Katsuki’s taste. Food Wars. He liked it.
Bakugou doesn’t say anything back, not at first, so Shouto keeps going. He talks about his mom and the things he saw his dad say and do to her. He talks about his dead brother that he never really knew. Being punched and hit because he couldn’t control his quirk as well as he should have been, when he was a kid. When he’s done talking he doesn’t even have it in him to cry. He just feels so empty of all of it.
It’s nice to have someone just listen to him. Without making too big a deal out of it.
“You didn’t deserve any of that, Shou. You—you know that, right?”
He nods against Katsuki’s chest in answer. He does know that. Mostly.
“It made me feel like I was cursed,” he says, releasing an icy breath.
“Bullshit. You’re the best thing there is.”
The best thing? How could he be the best thing? Even if it feels good to think about being the best thing to Katsuki.
“I’m sure there are a lot of better things, like penicillin. It’s saved millions.”
“Huh. That’s you then isn’t it, Icyhot?” Katsuki laughs, and he presses a kiss to Shouto’s forehead, “Second only to,” he laughs again, “Penicillin.”
A few days later Sero calls him downstairs. They’re supposed to meet up at a nearby hard court or something. Though he isn’t aware of any such plans, or who made them.
“We’re always training, Bak—we all thought we could try something new. Basketball, maybe some keep-away, are you coming?”
“Sure.”
Unlike their usual class outside of school activities, when he and Sero reach the court Bakugou is already there. Normally, he’s the last to arrive, goaded into coming by Kirishima.
Shouto says as much, “Huh. He’s here.”
Sero doesn’t give anything away, just catches a throw from Kirishima and tosses the ball to Shouto, “Yeah I guess he is.”
*
The strawberry ice cream becomes somewhat their thing. Though Katsuki always takes manageable bites now, unlike that first time. At times Shouto considers branching out, to chocolate, vanilla, or butter pecan. He wants to try matcha ice cream too, he’s heard a lot about it. Izuku likes it, and that’s what they get whenever they come here as friends. Katsuki can’t seem to part with strawberry though, and Shouto wonders (briefly) if it’s because of the taste or the memory that comes with it. Of course it has to be the taste. They always share, no matter what, and even when a little bit of ice cream drips onto Shouto’s face, Katsuki takes his thumb to wipe it off and licks it, sharing that bit too. It’s delicious. The...ice cream.
It’s not the only thing they like to do though. Especially now that it seems like their thing, whatever it is, all of their other friends are in on it. They can be together in the common areas now. Katsuki holds on to his hand while he yells at other people. He gives it a reassuring squeeze every now and again, even while he’s telling Kaminari (with love, Shouto thinks) that if he doesn’t quit his latest hare-brained scheme he will rearrange his face.
People gravitate to Katsuki like they never gravitated to Shouto. Their friends press up against and talk to him easily, despite his outwardly caustic attitude. Now that Shouto’s in that orbit he’s in the circle too. In with Bakugou’s friends more than he was before.
He really cares for Izuku, of course, Iida, Ochako and them. It’s nice to have more close friends though. When he came here he didn’t really have a single friend at all. Now he’s surrounded by them. It’s harder to stand off to the side, aloof from the action, when the powder keg of the class is your exclusive-ice-cream-outing-associate and he yanks you down on the sofa and puts an arm around you. Everyone else then comes to bother them.
Shouto only really loses his shit when Katsuki brings him into the conversation casually one day, “Shou, baby, back me up here, dunce face thinks we should be pen pals with those Shiketsu extras. Tell ‘em having baldy and whats-her-name text us three times a week is torture enough.”
Baby. (Leaving off for the moment that he likes writing letters, and wouldn’t mind writing some more to Inasa and Camie. Come on, he’s having a crisis). They can do that now??
“You called me baby,” he says, instead of answering. Kaminari just bursts out laughing. Ashido and Sero are snickering too. He fails to see why. This is new for him.
“Oi, idiots, shut up,” Katsuki says to them, and then to him, softer but still raspy, turning to look into his eyes so only Shouto can see, “Problem with that?”
“No,” Shouto inhales deeply, and pulls out what he’s been wanting to call him for weeks and weeks, “‘Suki.”
“Can you two get a room?” Ashido asks. Hmm...they don’t need a third room, they have one each.
The color of Katsuki’s face. Heavenly pink to red. That means he liked it, right?
“Back to the topic!” Katsuki swerves back to face her, “I’m not wasting my time writing notes. If you all want to go ahead.”
“I want to,” Shouto says, turning to Ashido himself, “I like writing letters. If you set something up with them, I can help.”
Just to make sure it’s okay, he asks him later, “Can I call you that? What I said downstairs?”
“Part of my damn name isn’t it?” Katsuki huffs, but he’s still flushing. So maybe he really likes it.
“Baby,” Shouto tries saying. “Baby.”
“Did I break you or something?! I’m right here.”
“I know that, I just like to say it. I didn’t know you were going to say it.”
“Oi, get used to it.”
*
It’s hard when he realizes they’ll graduate in a few weeks. That’s why Shouto spends a lot of time in Katsuki’s room, alone. Maybe he does it because it might be a while before their paths cross again. Maybe by now he just can’t stay away.
Katsuki rolls his eyes at Shouto and acts like everything that comes out of his mouth is a travesty. Or a crime against people who talk, everywhere. But his tone is something Shouto’s come to recognize as fond. So he likes to be here. He’s wanted here. Not just for his quirk, just for him. Not that he’d never actually directly accuse Katsuki of liking his personality. (Why confirm something that you already know? He’s lazy that way.)
Since they’ve still never actually talked about what they are, it’s hard to know what might happen next with them. So Shouto settles for just...collecting things about him. To have for the road and a life ahead that might not have him.
The glasses. The way he can’t fall asleep as well without me...with him. All of our talks. Strawberry ice cream. Holding my hand. Even the way he lines his eyes.
It takes a very fine hand to apply eyeliner the way that Katsuki does. So subtle, where you really have to be close to him to tell. From a distance you can’t tell at all. It takes practice to even get it symmetrical on either side. In inexperienced hands it just smears and makes you look like a raccoon or a creature of the night.
Shouto discovers this the hard way. He expects to be fully chastised for having picked up the eyeliner pencil from Katsuki’s desk while he was out of the room. ‘Five minutes, Shouto, I was gone for five fucking minutes.’
He tries it. Just tracing his own eyes. The side with his scar should be harder, for obvious reasons. Somehow he defies logic and does a worse job on the side where the skin around his eye is smooth. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass case on one of Katsuki’s shelves. (Like Izuku, Katsuki too has All Might figurines, just not as many on display, he suspects there are more in his room at home but that’s a case for another day).
So he tries to rub it away, because it looks bad. Rubbing it just spreads it more though, and that looks worse.
“Icyhot, you wouldn’t believe—” Katsuki walks in, then stops speaking abruptly, his jaw drops, and he closes the door with a click. Then bursts out laughing.
“Is it really that funny?”
“Yeah, it—” laugh, “Shou”, laugh, “Oh,” Katsuki fishes around in his desk drawer for something. A wet wipe looking thing.
Then he holds Shouto’s face in one hand and starts wiping the black smudges off of his face with the other. “If you wanted to do it right, I could have shown you.”
“I didn’t think it would be that hard,” he pauses, “I was wrong.”
“You don’t need this shit, anyway,” Katsuki mutters, as he gets to a spot right near Shouto’s tear ducts. “Tell me if it stings.”
“Why do you wear it, then?”
“Uh, my mom put it on me once for a thing, and I liked it so I stole her shit and figured it out.”
“Okay?” Katsuki asks briefly, waiting for Shouto to nod before he gets the smudges of the scarred side, pressing even more gently here than he was even before.
“Yeah. You make it look good.”
“Shut up.”
Katsuki steps back, and looks him over, “I know I just took it off, and you’re too damn pre—But since you bothered. Can I do it right? Just so you know what it’s actually supposed to look like on you if you ever try it again.”
“Okay go ahead.”
It shouldn’t excite him this much, the prospect of Katsuki touching him like this, given everything else they’ve done. But it does.
“Then close your eyes, again,” Katsuki orders.
Unlike when he was holding the pencil, Shouto can barely feel Katsuki drawing on his eyelids. He’s precise, and light-handed and he knows exactly what he’s doing. He must have done this every day for years. Just to get that look right for his hero costume?
“How does it look?” Shouto asks.
“Your fucking bangs are in the way.”
“I can’t do anything about that.”
Katsuki grits his teeth, “I can. Sit down.”
Shouto sits down between the vee of his legs, as Katsuki braids the front part of his hair back.
“Your hair is so too sil—, it barely holds any shape at all.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t tell anyone I did any of this to you.”
“Believe me, I never tell anyone about the things you do to me.”
“Jeez. We also need to work on you saying things that are dirty without knowing that they are.”
“I have a secret too.”
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes I do know, and I say it anyway. I like the look you get on your face.”
“There’s no look!”
“The one you have right now is pretty close.”
“Keep facing front or you’ll mess this up!”
“Sorry.”
“Why do you apologize all the time, anyway?” Katsuki wonders, he’s done with whatever he’s doing to Shouto’s hair. He’s just running his hands through it for fun at this point. Even after everything they’ve done, just the pads of Katsuki’s fingers brushing against his hair and his skin feels good, so good.
“I do? I’ve never thought about it.”
“As long as it’s not because you think you’ve done something wrong, because you haven’t. Believe me, I’ll let you know when you have.”
He runs his hands through the back of Shouto’s hair, the part that’s still loose, one more time, then comes around to his front. Sits down on his knees on the ground while Shouto is still cross legged in front of him. Then he looks, really looks at Shouto’s face. Under the guise, obviously of observing his own handiwork. Shouto can make out each one of his blonde eyelashes.
Shouto stays still, but Katsuki keeps looking. He grasps his face again, with one hand, and runs his thumb along Shouto’s cheek. There’s something about him. The way he keeps blinking, slowly. Raking his eyes over Shouto’s face like he can’t get enough. Like he’s mesmerized. Or in love. This is a moment Shouto will want to keep forever, just for remembering.
“How does it look?” Shouto asks, pressing his mouth against the palm of the hand cupping his face. Warm. He hears a sharp intake of breath right when he makes the contact.
I don’t want to give this up. He thinks all of a sudden. He wants to say it.
“Perfect,” Katsuki says, then, "I mean I did it, didn't I?"
*
His dad texts him to say that he’s coming to their graduation. This was expected, obviously. The dates of the graduation are more or less public knowledge. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he wouldn’t be there. Sure, he’s changed, or trying to, or whatever. It’s just that him being there means that he can’t get special permission so that mom could come see him graduate instead. The two of them still don’t see each other. The doctors say it’s not a good idea.
Shouto walks around the dorms a final time the day before. They’ve mostly moved their stuff out by now. He hasn’t seen much of his not-boyfriend these days. He does the final round around campus, Ground Beta, and the rest of the training buildings with Izuku and Iida. Sometimes, walking around and seeing all those empty desks, it’s hard to believe that it’s really going to be over.
He should be happier about this. Starting a new chapter. He’s going to be a hero like he always wanted. He’s happy about that.
He doesn’t see Katsuki again until that night. There’s a final dinner back at the dorms, with them, and the teachers. Some of the heroes they’ve worked with over the years are invited too. Like Jeanist, and the Pussycats. When he comes downstairs though, she’s there.
She’s wearing a light blue dress with a white shawl, and he wonders for a second if he’s dreaming. He used to think about it a lot, as a kid, little fantasies about her coming home and everything being better. She’s real though this time.
He closes the distance as fast as he can.
“Mom, you came.” You came, you came, you came, you came.
“I wanted to celebrate your graduation,” she says, cupping his cheek with her hand, “I’m so proud of you.”
He’s quite a bit taller than her now, and she has to look up to face him. “I didn’t know you were going to come.”
“Your friend called me a few weeks back, I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Which friend?”
She gestures to the other corner of the room, where Katsuki is standing with Kirishima, “He was very insistent on the phone. He talks very loudly, your friend.”
What. He. For me? He remembers mentioning it to him once, that she couldn’t come to the real graduation but he never thought...and mom’s here...he’s never been so happy about so many things at once…
He can show her his room, and the campus and introduce her to more of his friends. One evening out of the hospital with just them.
He grabs her hand, “Come on. I want to show you everything.”
*
That night Shouto crowds him against the wall in his room and kisses him like it’ll be the last time they’ll ever touch.
“Oi, halfie, what’s gotten into you?”
Maybe a tad over-excitedly, he hoists him up so Katsuki’s legs come up around his waist and his back slams against the wall. Then he leans in to kiss him again, just trying to memorize the taste of him. It’s a little exciting too, that these days Katsuki lets him handle his body like that. However he likes. Whatever he wants he can just reach out and take.
And sometimes, he gets things without even asking.
“That was a good surprise,” he pulls away from his mouth, to kiss along his jaw, nibble on his ear. Suck on the sensitive spots of his neck like he’s done hundreds of times before. All that flushed pink skin, just for him. Oh. Honestly, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. He doesn’t have any thoughts. He just wants to reward him. Show him how happy he is. On pure, filthy instinct.
“Dunno,” the other boy smirks, “What you’re talking about.”
It’s fine, they can have a good time. They deserve to have a good time. Katsuki doesn’t have to admit to it.
They might not be dating but...Shouto’s heart swells at the thought of it. He thinks about how much he wanted this and how little he expressed it and still. He wanted to make me happy.
He'll make him happy right back, tonight.
*
They’re still not dating. Or at least, no one’s said anything to Shouto.
The shared apartment is a complete accident as far as he’s concerned. Shouto doesn’t know how Katsuki even figured out where his agency assignment was before Shouto himself knew it. How they managed to get it in the same locale, without working out in advance is another mystery.
Shouto’s just sitting there one day, after graduation and he sees the text.
>> look at this place, not bad [link attached]
<<This is near where I’m going to work.
>> yeah i know that
<<Why are you showing this to me?
>> ill wait
<<They allow cats. I like the balcony. I would need a roommate.
>> were u dropped on the head as a child
<<Bold of you to assume I was held.
>> if u wanna live with fucking deku or something just say it, i dont have time for this
<<Don’t you want to live with Kirishima?
>> why do i do this to myself
<<You want to live with me.
>> do u like the damn place, or not
<<I like it
*
Move-in day is chaotic. Even though he doesn’t have a lot of stuff, and neither does Katsuki. They get a two bedroom place, and Katsuki says something about how they’ll end up the default place where their stupid friends would have to crash. Which doesn’t make sense to Shouto, two bedrooms means obviously one for him and one for Katsuki.
He’s corrected, sort of, after a long day of moving everything in, and rearranging the furniture. (The kitchen, and pantry organization will wait until tomorrow). They’ve set up both bedrooms for sleeping, and he goes towards the one that Katsuki doesn’t go to. In a minute though, Katsuki throws the door open, and looks at him completely confused.
“What do you think you’re doing?! Thought we’d sleep in the East side one. This one’s smaller.”
“Just for tonight?” Shouto wonders, they did move in, maybe they’re celebrating. He wouldn’t mind.
“I don’t get it. You want us to sleep here?” Katsuki asks, he’s way less easily worked up when he’s sleepy. Way less loud. He just stands there looking like he’s calculating something in his head. Eyes wide and looking at Shouto with one eyebrow raised. Grumbling and mystified by what he’s dealing with.
“I didn’t think we would be sleeping together.”
“Do you not...want to?” Katsuki pauses, “Wait. Are we—in a fight? Ugh. I’m tired, whatever it is, I’m fucking sorry okay.”
“I want to,” Shouto nods. “You’re right. That one’s bigger.”
Maybe things won’t change from how they were at U.A. after all. It’s a nice room, the East side one. They have sheets with a high thread count, and the window has a nice view onto an alleyway rather than a crowded street. They can see a bunch of powerlines, and the outline of a tree in the blue light of the moon.
“You picked a good place,” Shouto says, as he gets in the bed.
“I’m good, what can I say?”
“I think I still deserve some credit,” Shouto turns towards him, and is pleased when Katsuki turns towards him too. He likes their talks like this. Curved together like parentheses at night when the whole world is asleep. It feels like they’re the only ones alive.
“Yeah, for what?”
“I picked you.”
“Mm. Don’t be such a sap,” Katsuki slaps at his wrist half-heartedly. “Shut up and hold me.”
That I can do. When Katsuki’s in his arms like this it’s easy not to worry too much about labels and names. This is perfect. He can live with this for a very long time, maybe forever, he thinks. He likes the way Katsuki seems to dip his head into the crook of Shouto’s neck and just breathe him in. Maybe he smells a certain way, and after all this time, it’s comforting.
He likes being close enough to feel his heartbeat. Katsuki’s so peaceful like this. Like he often does, Katsuki snakes his fingers under Shouto’s shirt, and holds onto the bare skin of his back. He presses his nose into the soft fabric of Shouto’s shirt and he whispers something that Shouto can’t hear. His skin is so soft, and Shouto knows he’s the only one who’s ever touched it like this.
I’m in love with you, he thinks, silently. I’ll never fall out of it.
*
When it rains in the summer, it rains hard. There are always warm things to eat though. Shouto doesn’t know where Katsuki even gets the time. He works more hours than most pros straight out of school. More than Shouto himself. He never forgets though. Breakfast for Shouto, and breakfast for him. Sometimes a packed lunch. Sometimes even dinner too.
Shouto honestly wonders what it is that he brings to this relationship. That’s what they must have right, some kind of a relationship. Nebulously defined as it is by actions and not by words. He wouldn’t call just anyone Baby, and Kitkat.
They have shows they watch together, Shouto’s in charge of doing their laundry and doing their dishes. They share a bed. On the rare days when they’re apart Shouto shoots him a ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ text and always gets a response.
Sure they still squabble like teenagers, and can’t keep their hands off each other like teenagers, but they have to be more than what they were back then. Shouto just can’t stop thinking of the interview they gave, years ago now, right after their joint hero debut.
He doesn’t exactly remember the exact words that Katsuki had said, just something like, 'We’re not friends just because we spend a lot of time together. Get your eyes checked.'
Shouto never told him how much that stuck with him, all this time. How much it’s made him not want to put a name to this thing they have now. Even though it makes him happy even without a name.
It doesn’t help that Katsuki calls him ‘roomie’ all the time. ‘Halfie’ has gotten old apparently. Shouto knows for a fact however, that not everyone sleeps with their ‘roomies’ all the time. Izuku and Tenya don’t and never have (he asked, and wow, that was embarrassing).
Katsuki still wears those glasses around the apartment. Shouto wonders if they’re the same pair. They look similar enough. He still looks cute in them. Boyfriend. Want you to be my boyfriend. Feels like we are but I want to say it. He stares at him really hard sometimes and tries to communicate telepathically.
*
“...So that’s why I don’t think we’re dating, officially,” Shouto explains to Izuku, who is standing there with his mouth open, just blinking at him.
“Whaaat?” Izuku squeaks. “Because of the...because of the interview...back at U.A.? In our first year? When he said that you weren’t friends...and because he said that then you won’t assume anything now?...Are you feeling okay? Does Kacchan know that you think you’re not dating? This is terrible. I’m pretty sure Kacchan thinks you two are going to get married. Not now obviously, but some day. You’re too young now, of course. You really...don’t think that you two are. Have you ever asked him?”
“No, we’ve never...talked about it.”
Izuku might faint, so Shouto stops talking then. “I’m fine with it.”
*
It might have been a great cinematic parallel if the truth came out in another joint interview. Or even at the hospital, one of them near-dead, or having nearly died. Shouto’s seen those types of scenes a lot in Fuyumi’s soap operas. People get amnesia, and head injuries a lot it seems. They also have a lot of trouble staying monogamous.
Shouto gets to put a name to it on just a normal day. It’s unseasonably humid. Katsuki’s been in the shower for way too long and Shouto needs to use it.
“Are you done, yet?” he knocks on the door. It’s locked, they usually don’t lock doors for showering, when it’s just them at home. He wonders what Katsuki might be doing to require privacy. Pulling out grey hairs, maybe? That’s a sore subject with some people, he supposes. Since he was born with half a head of white hair, he doesn’t really get it.
“Can’t come out like this,” Katsuki says. Shouto wonders what it could possibly be, his Kitkat isn’t typically vain. All through high school he actually did his best not to appear pretty. Making faces and growling all the time.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Shouto says, sinking down to sit against the door. “You can show me.”
“The hell is this?!” he hears Katsuki exclaim from the other side of the door.
Shouto sighs, “Let me see, how bad could it be?”
The door bumps into his back as it opens, and he jumps back. Katsuki’s shirtless and his hair is... oh. The humidity. A human puffball. He’s actually…
“Shut up!” Katsuki says. “Don’t say anything! It’s not like it bothers me, either, but if I see one more kid yell for me as the Dandelion hero I’m gonna lose it.”
Shouto raises his right hand, “Maybe if I cool it down a bit. It’s really not that bad though,” he wonders if it’s safe to say this before he adds, “It’s cute.”
“Kay,” Katsuki says, and he goes for it. Both hands, seeing which works better. He’s not really up on the science of it, humidity.
“Gonna kill you if you made it worse, I have to leave in five minutes.”
“You’re safe in my hands.”
He tries his best to flatten it down as much as he can, until it looks somewhat like normal. “There. I’ll be home late by the way, don’t wait up for me.”
“Fine, don’t forget to eat though,” Katsuki says.
Shouto traipses through their closet and finds Katsuki’s hero costume. Well, one copy of it. He has a spare too, around here somewhere. He helps him out of his pants as Katsuki puts on the top bit. It’s one of his favorite little things that he gets to do, helping dress Katsuki up like this. The mask and the headpiece are always the last thing.
“Three minutes,” Shouto checks his watch. “Enough for tea.”
He’d gotten some tea ready in the kitchen while Katsuki was hogging the bathroom, so he fills a cup and hands it to him so he can take a few sips. For energy.
One minute.
“Bye,” Katsuki says, handing him back the cup, and giving him a quick kiss.
“Love you,” Shouto says, when they probably only have thirty seconds left before he’ll be late. Of all the times he could have said it.
“Yeah, love you too,” Katsuki says, without missing a beat. Then he’s out the door, wearing everything in his kit except the gauntlets, and Shouto’s more than confused than ever about all of this.
*
They don’t get a chance to talk about it again until the next morning. When it’s Shouto that’s running late for work. Because that’s the cruelty of fate. Thankfully his costume is actually easier to put on, except for all of the moving pieces that he attaches to it every time, the fabled ‘five weenies’ that he’s never been able to escape.
“Are we boyfriends?” he asks, as Katsuki is on his knees, yanking boots onto Shouto’s feet while they’re across from each other in the hall.
“Huh? What kind of question is that?”
“Last time, you told me not to assume, so I didn’t know. Yesterday you said you loved me.”
“Last time?! The hell are you talking about?”
“The interview,” Shouto says evenly, “After our hero debut, when we got our provisional licenses. You said we weren’t friends. That I shouldn’t think that we were just because we spent time together. So I didn’t. I didn’t assume again.”
Katsuki looks like his life is flashing before his eyes. He comes up to stand and he just stares, and stares and stares, “Hah?!”
Then he holds Shouto’s face in his hands, the look in his eyes is hard to read. It’s like he’s steeling himself for something but can’t say it.
“I never called you that to your face, maybe, boyfriend or anything,” Katsuki says, still in disbelief, “Must have said it to other people though. I met your fucking mom, what did you think that was? Did you really think I didn’t care?!”
“Obviously you did, I just didn’t want to assume that…” he trails off, even as he says it, it sounds so stupid.
“Since when do you ever listen to what I say, huh?! You remember that? What about all the other shit I said to you. ‘Course I loved you, idiot. Way before I said it yesterday.”
“I’m stupid,” Shouto says. His voice is small.
“We,” Katsuki corrects, forcefully, “We are stupid. Useless, actually.”
“When did you know?” Shouto asks, “That we were dating.”
“I thought that much was clear when I took you out the first time, didn’t know you needed it in fucking writing or something,” Katsuki says, his voice breaking slightly. “Just to be totally clear, if I had known, you would have gotten it in writing. Anything you wanted. I thought...thought I showed you.”
“You did, you did show me, I felt loved, I just didn’t know what to call it.”
“‘Guess that makes me feel somewhat better at least.” He doesn't look like he's feeling better to Shouto, not at all actually.
“I never wanted to make you feel bad, I was happy. I am happy.”
“Call in sick, say you're not gonna come,” Katsuki says. He never says that. Work is number one. Work is life. Life is work. They’ve got a ranking chart to climb and ass to kick. Sometimes in the opposite order.
“Why?”
“If you walk out that door now I’m gonna be sick.”
*
So Shouto stays. He stays the entire day and he tries the word boyfriend on his tongue. He tries to reassure that he’s loved what they’ve had, he’s felt so happy through it. Katsuki’s still hurt though, Shouto can tell. There’s something he’s obviously dying to say that he doesn’t get to until they’re in the kitchen, just before lunch. An hour or so after Shouto was supposed to leave.
“I was a stupid kid when I said those things,” Katsuki starts to say, “I wish I could go back in time and grab that kid by the ankles and shake him.”
“That’s my future boyfriend you’re talking about, careful there.”
“I wouldn’t do any permanent damage, just knock some sense into him, we were friends then. I didn’t wanna admit it.”
“Are you sure you could take him?” Shouto asks. This whole idea of teenage Katsuki fighting adult Katsuki has taken off in his mind way more than he could have anticipated.
“Fucking of course I could take him, don’t be ridiculous, anyway. Like I was saying. You were right.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Shouto asks, because he hasn’t heard those three words from his boyfriend’s mouth in a very long time, maybe he’s never heard them. Katsuki’s so stubborn when he wants to be. They’re the three little words every man wants to hear.
“I said you were right,” Katsuki huffs. “We were friends.”
A burden seems to lift off of him as he says it. Shouto's relieved. He's relieved just to hear it. They were friends. They are friends. They got to be more.
“Since we’re travelling back in time, teenage me will be glad to hear it.”
“Oi, shut up, you were right about this one thing. If we’re keeping a running tally though it’s still about a thousand to one. Teenage you, and you you can suck it.”
“I don’t have a problem with the way you show love, by the way, despite the fact that I was confused about this,” he says, because it’s important that he knows. “I actually really like it.”
This seems to clear the storm in Katsuki's eyes even more and he reaches out to hold Shouto's hand, stroking his thumb along the back of it.
“You don’t think I can do both? I’ll tell you I love you every day now, asshole.”
"As many times as it takes. Until you get it."
That would be nice. That might even be perfect.
There's just one more thing he wants though. Something he's never been able to resist. Katsuki always showed his love through his actions. He wants to feel it now. Now that he knows that Katsuki is his.
“Can I kiss you now? I’ve never kissed my boyfriend before? I want to.” he asks, the barest hint of smugness on his face. He knows now that Katsuki can’t resist it.
“Who says you get whatever you want?” Katsuki snaps.
Oh. A stalemate, it’s been a while. Shouto wets his lips. He waits another few seconds. He pulls at the top of his hero costume and pulls down the zip to show some skin, just a bit. He breathes out a visible burst of frosty air. (He’s always found it kind of funny that moves like this, straight from softcore porn, seem to work on Katsuki. Though he’s never one to question results.)
The other man takes a breath and exhales. Shouto’s been staring at him so hard he can watch his chest rise and fall. He’s so well-built...around those places. His chest, the stuff of dreams. Almost there.
“Fuck it,” Katsuki says, then considers, “Fuck you.”
“Please do.”
Then Katsuki jumps his bones, as is his right, and they fade to black.