Work Text:
The sun accosts Shouto’s eyes while he’s still determined to sleep. He groans in reply, which does nothing to ease the throbbing pain between his eyes. Why are the curtains open? The curtains in his room are never open. What kind of psychopath leaves their curtains open? And why does his head hurt so much?
Wait… That’s right. Shouto went out drinking last night. Not the brightest thing to do the night before starting his residency, but he was nervous and needed some way to loosen up, or he never would’ve been able to sleep.
Oh, shit. His residency.
Shouto forces his eyes open and sits up, keeping a hand braced against the floor as his head spins. He set an alarm, so there’s no way he slept in, but how is he supposed to sober up in—
Oh no.
There’s a stranger sleeping on his living room floor, tangled up in a pile of wrinkled clothes but clearly naked. Shouto soon realizes that he is, too, and his hips are aching. Each throb of pain accentuates his headache. No wonder—the guy’s dick is impressive. So is the rest of him. Shouto allows himself a moment to stare—this man is incredibly good-looking for a random one-night stand—before he forces himself into action.
Stumbling to his feet, he maneuvers around the couch and into the hall. His scrubs are in a box in the bedroom, not yet unpacked. This is his father’s house, and he’s meant to be selling it, but in the meantime it’s his only place to live. It’s hard finding apartments in Tokyo. The house is closer to the hospital, anyway, so he figured there’s no harm in it for now.
Ugh. Shouto’s mouth tastes like shit—like alcohol and cum—and his hair is a complete mess. There’s no time to shower, so he ignores it in favor of brushing his teeth. He can’t have patients smelling dick on his breath. He’d have to kill himself on the spot.
When he returns to the living room, the hot stranger is awake, still naked but obviously significantly more coherent than Shouto feels. He’s slightly terrified about this entire experience. He’s not the type for one-night stands. What was he thinking last night? For now, he’ll have to kick this guy out.
“Morning,” the blond says with a sexy smirk that screams trouble. He gives Shouto a slow once-over and whistles. “You a doctor?”
“Yes.” Shouto pauses. He’s not really sure how to deal with this. “And I’m about to be late to my first day, so you need to leave.”
“You’re seriously gonna kick me out?”
The stranger lifts a muscular arm to scratch the back of his neck. Shouto forces his eyes away from his naked body, a flush creeping up his neck. This is ungodly embarrassing. Definitely the last time he’ll ever get blackout drunk at a bar.
“Sorry,” Shouto mutters lamely, unsure what else to say. “Last night was—well, it was a lapse in judgement.”
“A long one,” the stranger interjects, his lips twitching. “Several rounds long.”
Shouto ignores him. “As good as it might’ve been, it’s over now. I really need to get to work, so you need to go. Goodbye…” He pauses. “I don’t know your name.” He doesn’t even know his name. God.
“Katsuki.”
“Katsuki, then. Please make it quick.”
Shouto turns away and retreats into the kitchen, both to escape and to scrounge up a hangover cure. He’s almost too tired to be humiliated. Almost.
When he passes through the living room to reach the front door, half of the clothes are gone, and so is Shouto’s hookup. He’s relieved and ready to shove last night into his subconscious where it can wither and die.
Today is the first day of the rest of his life. A fresh start. He’s already made one huge mistake, so he’ll have to make sure today goes smoothly. He can deal with a little headache as long as he doesn’t screw up again.
And he won’t. He can’t. Not after everything that happened. Not after going through the hellscape of med school. He isn’t going to let a single bad decision alter his course. Shouto will never have to see that sexy blond mistake ever again. Out of sight, out of mind.
Everything will be fine.
—•—
The hangover cure doesn’t help his head much, but Shouto feels less like a walking corpse when he arrives at orientation. Among the five other residents there, he still undoubtedly looks the worst. One of them is actually smiling. Who has the energy to smile at seven in the morning? Shouto is offended on principle.
“Welcome to Yuuei Hospital,” the chief of surgery, Aizawa, says in a quiet yet authoritative voice. He’s a lanky man with long black hair pulled into a messy knot at the nape of his neck. The dark circles under his eyes look like smears of purple paint. All in all, he’s reminiscent of the color gray.
“This is so surreal,” one of the other residents whispers. “I never thought I’d be here.”
It takes Shouto a minute to realize he’s talking to him. He glances at the guy sidelong. Tan, buff, peaked red hair that definitely doesn’t spike like that naturally, and a friendly smile. The opposite of Shouto’s ideal company. He doesn’t get along well with extroverted people—especially not ones who smile at seven A.M. That’s this guy. The smiler.
“Mm,” Shouto mumbles noncommittally. He’s not in the mood to make conversation. Besides, he might get infected with enthusiasm if he spends too much time around this guy. Kirishima Eijirou, the name tag on his white coat reads.
Instead of paying attention to the likely important speech the chief is giving them, Kirishima edges closer to Shouto. Apparently he didn’t get the hint.
“What’s your specialty? Mine’s peds, although I also thought about cardio at one point. You’re neuro, I bet. Aren’t you? I can just tell. Neuro guys have this aura.”
Shouto closes his eyes against the verbal barrage. It’s too early for this. It’s his last year of residency. He just wants to get this final first day over with.
“You in the back! Quit talking!”
Aizawa glares at Kirishima, and Shouto shifts away from him to avoid association. He didn’t catch 90% of the introductory speech. That’s probably bad. Maybe he can ask someone else to summarize later.
“Now that I’ve gone over the expectations, it’s time to get started.”
Aizawa jerks his head at them, and they rush to follow him down the hall. Yuuei is bigger than any of the other hospitals Shouto has worked in. It’s fifteen floors with about a million different ways to get lost. Shouto can already tell he’s going to forget where everything is.
“I expect you to be able to find your attending on your own. Part of working in the medical field is dealing with new people.” Aizawa stops in front of an enormous, bustling cafeteria and crosses his arms. “Check name tags until you find them. Once you do find them, do not separate from them. From today on, you are their shadow. Stick to them like glue. Understood?”
There’s a general rumble of assent. Aizawa doesn’t bother with parting remarks. He nods and disappears, leaving Shouto and the other residents to the mercy of the crowded cafeteria.
Shouto separates from the group first. He’s not here to waste time. He’ll find his attending quickly and get started—or so he planned. The cafeteria is full of doctors, and Shouto becomes more discouraged the more name tags he gets uncomfortably close to read.
After his fifteenth failed guess, Shouto steps back to survey the room. The other residents are awkwardly weaving among the crowd. It seems they also have yet to find their attendings. Shouto has to wonder about Aizawa’s methods…
And then he spots him.
He’s leaning against the counter of the pocket coffee shop in the corner of the cafeteria, talking comfortably to two other doctors. It’s such a commonplace scene that Shouto’s eyes skim over it, and then he has to do a double-take. His eyes aren’t lying: There stands the beautiful stranger who fucked his brains out on his living room floor last night. His gaze finds the name tag clipped to his coat.
Bakugou Katsuki. Neurosurgery. Attending Physician.
An attending. Shouto’s attending.
They inevitably lock eyes, because Shouto is staring and has been for several seconds. A flicker of recognition passes over the blond’s face. His eyes narrow, and the beginning of a smile twitches across his lips, equal parts surprise and amusement. Dangerous, Shouto thinks.
He does the only thing he can think to do in a situation like this. He turns and runs.
—•—
“This cannot be a thing.”
Bakugou crosses his arms, his annoying smirk pushing Shouto into a very sexually-frustrated corner. “But it already is, in case you forgot.”
Shouto paces past him in the tiny stairwell, tearing a hand through his hair. Bakugou tracked him down after he ran, and he’s been struggling not to die of embarrassment ever since. He slept with the superior of a brand new job he hadn’t even started yet. What kind of terrible luck is that?
“No,” Shouto says forcefully, whirling on Bakugou and his annoyingly smug grin. “This is so— If I had known you w— I never would’ve—“ His words fracture into a groan of frustration. “Just forget about it. It never happened, okay? This is our first time meeting each other.”
“I definitely can’t forget about it,” Bakugou refuses, leaning closer. He smells like cinnamon. Shouto hates that he realizes that. “Besides, you’re overreacting. It’s not like anybody would really care that we’re hooking up.”
“Hooked up,” Shouto corrects. “Once. One time. A singularity.”
“You’re being difficult,” Bakugou points out. He crosses his arms, muscles straining under his white coat. Shouto doesn’t have to wonder what he looks like underneath. He’s seen everything. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make things any easier.
“I’m not being difficult. You are.” Shouto frowns at him. “Can’t you just agree to be professional? I don’t understand why you’re refusing in the first place.”
“I’ve never been very good at being professional.” Bakugou lifts an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it unprofessional of you to run away like that? I’m your attending.”
Shouto isn’t sure what to say to that, and Bakugou seems pleased by this. His personality is incredibly annoying. Shouto clearly didn’t realize that last night, or maybe he was too drunk to care.
“I won’t go easy on you or anything like that,” Bakugou sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair. “But I’m not going to ignore this, either. I like you.” His lips twitch into an unfair smile. “This is kind of like fate, don’t you think?”
“I absolutely do not,” Shouto objects, turning away before his knees can get any weaker. “I don’t care what you do. I’ll keep ignoring it. I’m here to work.” He pauses at the stairwell door. “And you don’t like me. You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet,” Bakugou calls after him.
Ignoring the stares of the people in the hall, Shouto forces himself to stop. Storming off again will accomplish nothing. Aizawa said to stick to his attending like glue. As unfortunate as it is, Shouto will have to put up with Bakugou Katsuki. He’s got no choice in the matter.
“Did you come to your senses?” Bakugou asks directly into his ear. He truly has zero sense of boundaries.
Shouto pretends his heart isn’t pounding. Last night never happened, dammit. He’s a professional. He can’t let Bakugou’s immaturity affect him. If he wants to be difficult about it, fine. He’s underestimating Shouto’s willpower. He’ll ignore Bakugou Katsuki into obscurity.
“Let’s get to work.” Shouto puts some distance between them before glancing back at Bakugou. “If you like me, then surely you can respect that I’m here to learn. So teach me.”
“Sure.”
Bakugou is grinning, and Shouto doesn’t like the implications behind it. But he’s determined not to let this bother him. So what if Bakugou is insanely hot, has a huge dick, is great in bed, and says he likes him? Shouto’s here for work, and work alone.
Love wasn’t on the agenda, and he isn’t about to clear a space for it.
—•—
“I’m so tired I could die.” Ashido collapses face-first beside Shouto with a groan. “It smells like several people died on here,” she complains, her voice muffled by the gurney.
“Mm.” Shouto closes his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs. Or anything else.”
“Lucky. I’ve been trying not to feel anything all day,” Sero groans. “Have you guys seen the attendings? Insane.”
“Crazy,” Kirishima concurs. “How is it even possible for so many hot people to be in one place? I don’t get it.”
This is a dangerous topic. Shouto is still reeling over the Bakugou Katsuki situation. He’s been dealing with his stupid flirting all day, and it’s starting to piss him off. Bakugou never promised to be professional, but Shouto thought surely even he would understand that there’s a limit to what you can say and do at work. Unfortunately not. After the fifth time Bakugou whispered something dirty to him in the hallway, Shouto ran away and busied himself with any task the nurses would give him. Now he’s hiding out with the other residents, but he can’t escape Bakugou here, either.
“The things I’d let Dr. Kaminari do to me… ” Sero lets out a tense sigh and hugs his bottle of water to his chest. “Damn. I know we aren’t supposed to date attendings, but would a tiny fling really be so bad?”
“No!” Shouto says a bit too forcefully. When everyone looks at him, he clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean… It’d be bad. You wouldn’t know whether or not your conquests are your own. If you got a surgery just because of a relationship with an attending, wouldn’t you feel unfulfilled?”
Sero frowns. “Ugh. Yeah, I know you’re right, but still…” He groans and slides down the wall to a sitting position. “It’s so hard when they’re right in front of us all the time, like forbidden fruit.” He lifts his bottle slightly. “Y’know, it reminds me of this teacher I had a crush on in high school. All of the guys in my class played this game: Anyone caught staring at her got punched in the arm as hard as possible. It was pretty stupid, in retrospect.”
Huh. He might actually be onto something there. Honestly, Shouto isn’t sure he can keep himself in check with Bakugou’s constant advances, but if he had some way to keep himself from slipping, then…
“I have an idea.” Shouto sits up a little straighter. “What if we make a bet? Anyone caught flirting with an attending gives up their surgery privileges for a week. It’s a good way to keep ourselves in line.”
“It could be fun,” Ashido mumbles, still slumped over on the gurney beside him. “I mean, I don’t care that much about the rules, but I would be pretty pissed if I got ahead just because of screwing someone. And I love drama. So I’m in.”
“I guess I am, too,” Sero sighs. “The second my residency is over, though? Oh man. I’ll be on my knees begging.”
“I don’t really like the idea, but if it means more surgeries will be up for grabs, why not.” From the corner, Jirou flashes a thumbs up—although Shouto isn’t sure how she heard them with her headphones in. She hasn’t taken them off a single time. (Honestly, he forgot she was even here.)
“Sounds like it could be fun.” Kirishima grins and smacks Shouto on the leg. “Good idea, man. It’ll be a little extra friendly competition.”
Shouto flashes him a brief half-smile—the best he can do. As long as this stupid game is in play, he stands a better chance of keeping his sanity when faced with Bakugou’s advances. As much as he hates relying on others, it could also be nice to get a little closer to his fellow residents. Not that he’s interested in making friends, but a tense work environment makes things difficult. And honestly, Shouto could use a few allies right now.
“Expect to lose,” Jirou warns them, removing one of her earbuds. “I’m not as desperate as you guys. Especially you, Sero. Have some dignity.”
Sero shrugs. “Dignity? Never heard of it.”
As of this morning, Shouto can most definitely relate.
“I’ll be the one winning this,” Ashido counters, flipping herself into an upright position. “Mostly because I’m way too scared to talk to hot women. I made eye contact with Dr. Uraraka earlier and when she smiled at me I think I peed a little.”
Sero gives her a high-five. He looks at Shouto. “You’ve been awfully quiet for someone who suggested this. Who’s your doctor of choice?”
Shouto crosses his arms and leans his head against the wall, attempting nonchalance. “I don’t have one.”
“Oho, so it’s multiple? You’re a beast.”
Before Shouto can defend himself, his pager buzzes. So does everyone else’s. They groan cumulatively.
“Duty calls,” Ashido grumbles, hopping down from the gurney.
“Hell of a first day,” Sero sighs, getting up to follow her.
‘Hell of a first day’ is an understatement.
—•—
“You were the first to lose again this week.”
Sero flips Ashido off with a smile. “Who needs surgeries when I have dick?”
Jirou makes a face. “You whore. You’re literally gross.” She looks at the rest of the group in trepidation. “Should he even be allowed to play if he’s just going to lose every week right away?”
Kirishima shrugs. “That’s his choice. He’s the one losing out, so if he wants to keep playing, let him play.”
“That was downright sexy, Red. You’re so supportive.” Sero blows him a kiss.
Kirishima rolls his eyes. Shouto grimaces. Jirou mimes throwing up, and Ashido cackles.
Over the course of the last three weeks, Shouto has come to grow slightly fond of them all. It’s a little bit fun—just a little—to hang out with them like this on breaks, poking fun and lightening the exhausting atmosphere of hospital work. It helps him take his mind off Bakugou.
Although Shouto has yet to lose, he’s gotten close several times. Yesterday, when Bakugou’s hand happened to brush against his hip in passing, Shouto nearly groaned right there in the hallway. He wanted to die right after, and he forced himself to gargle several cups of salt water as punishment.
Today was better. He came to work feeling incredibly restrained, and had no Bakugou Incidents before the group’s usual mid-morning meetup. They all smuggle their meager breakfasts to the empty corridor by the forgotten vending machines, which they unequivocally made their hide-out after that first time they stumbled upon it. The hum of the generators from the nearby utility closet is insanely loud, but nobody ever passes by. It’s a blissful iota of calm within an endless storm.
“Did you guys hear about the new guy?” Ashido asks around a mouthful of one of the cafeteria’s painfully dry blueberry muffins. “He’s transferring in today. Apparently he’s taking over as the head of plastic surgery.”
“He’s some big-shot from Kyoto, right?” Sero asks, shooting his empty bottle of tea at the nearby trash bin. He pumps his fist in silent victory when it sails in.
“That’s what I hear,” Kirishima confirms, finishing off his apple. He gets up to throw away the core, turning to Shouto where he’s sequestered himself between two of the vending machines. “Do you know anything, Todoroki?”
Shouto shrugs, grateful for the change in topic. “I haven’t heard anything. You said he’s a plastic surgeon?”
“I overheard something at the nurse’s station,” Jirou supplies. She’s got her headphones in, but Shouto has learned that her hearing is impeccable enough that she can listen to them and music with no issue. “Apparently the guy is a notorious playboy. That’s why he’s transferring here. He’s a genius when it comes to surgery, but he can’t keep it in his pants. A real HR nightmare.”
“And they think sending him here will help?” Ashido laughs. “This hospital has, like, probably the hottest doctors in the country.”
Jirou shrugs. “That’s just what I heard. You can ask him yourself if you want to know more.” She blows a gum bubble and pops it with finality. “Like Kirishima said, he’s starting today.”
“I heard Chief Aizawa will be introducing him at the two o’clock surgery briefing,” Kirishima adds. “I don’t know what to expect, but this guy definitely sounds like he’s got a reputation.”
Shouto keeps his words in mind as they pack up their food and part ways. He’s so caught up in thinking about it that he isn’t even bothered by Bakugou’s typical antics. In fact, when the meeting rolls around, he’s brimming with curiosity. Although his specialty is neuro, he’s always had an interest in plastics—it’d be hard not to keep it in mind with a facial scar like his. If this new head of plastic surgery is some kind of genius, maybe Shouto could learn something from him. Something to take his mind off Bakugou. He’s been so focused on ignoring his incessant flirting that he hasn’t been paying as much attention to work as he probably should.
He needs to focus on his goals—and this is the perfect opportunity. Or so he thought.
When Shouto arrives at the surgery briefing, he’s met with a well-built, clearly confident man, with freckles and dimples that don’t match his somewhat-mischievous-looking grin. Shouto catches Ashido fake-swooning in the opposite corner of the room, Kirishima standing open-mouthed beside her. Honestly, he gets it. The guy is hot—go figure. All of the hospital’s attendings seem to be. But Bakugou is hotter, and Shouto has dealt with him for a month after seeing him naked. This guy is nothing.
“Everyone, this is our new head of plastic surgery,” Aizawa introduces with no enthusiasm. He takes a sip of coffee and sighs. “I don’t particularly care if you give him a warm welcome, and I’ll let him introduce himself.” He turns and leaves without a farewell—pretty typical behavior. (Shouto doesn’t mind. He can respect the straightforward approach.)
Unfazed by the chief’s dismissive words, the new attending gives the room what Shouto is sure is intended to be a heart-stopping smile.
“Hi. I’m Midoriya Izuku. As your very friendly chief just mentioned, I’m the new head of plastics starting today.” Everyone laughs. Midoriya’s green eyes find Shouto’s, seemingly by chance, and seem to linger before he concludes with, “I look forward to working with you.”
There’s a brief round of applause, and Shouto shakes off the slightly chilly feeling he got from their brief staring contest. The surgery is all that should be on his mind right now. He wants to see if this guy is worth the hype.
“Oi, candy cane.”
Shouto jumps when Bakugou’s hand brushes against his shoulder. He turns, and the blond has a scowl ready for him.
“Spacing off?”
“I wasn’t.” Shouto frowns at him; glances at the door over his shoulder. “When did… When did you get here? I didn’t see you come in.”
“Because you were spacing off.” Bakugou flicks him on the forehead, lightly enough that it’s a minor annoyance. “You’re in for this surgery. Scrub up.”
Shouto nearly chokes on his next inhale. “Wh—what? You’re serious?”
It’s a complicated surgery. He was prepared to watch from the viewing room. Why is Bakugou letting him scrub in? He’s never nice like this. The last time Shouto asked to get in on an advanced surgery, he said, “Suck my dick and we can talk. Now go do your damn rounds.”
Needless to say, it’s out of character. Moreover… He’s glaring at Dr. Midoriya. Right? Yes. He definitely is. Shouto glances between them several times, and he realizes that it’s mutual—the glaring, that is. Although Midoriya is smiling while Bakugou looks primed to kill. Which isn’t a great way to enter a surgery, in Shouto’s opinion.
“Do you two know—“ Shouto begins.
He’s cut off by a heavy hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. Dr. Midoriya is between them, his charming smile directed at Shouto even though he’s speaking to Bakugou. “Long time no see, Kacchan.”
Shouto nearly snorts. Bakugou’s glaring has reached incendiary levels. He clenches his fists, then crosses his arms—a self-restraining gesture.
“Don’t call me that, you man-whore.” Bakugou smirks, which puts Shouto slightly at ease. He wasn’t sure what to make of the cocktail of hatred twisting his face before. Contempt is much easier to make sense of.
“Same old sparkling personality. And this is your resident, I’m assuming?”
Midoriya’s hand brushes across Shouto’s shoulder and down his arm before releasing him. Shouto had forgotten it was there during his analysis of Bakugou’s expression, but now he shifts to put some distance between them. This guy might be bad news, after all. Bakugou may hit on him, but he never touches Shouto in a sleazy way like that.
“Yeah, he’s mine.” Bakugou is staring at Midoriya in such a way that Shouto is concerned he’ll actually get cut if he steps between them. “And he’s in on this surgery. You better get your head in the game. Don’t want a newbie embarrassing you on your first day.”
“Oh, that’s great.” Midoriya smiles in a way that’s too friendly to be genuine, given their conversation. “I hope you’ve been teaching him well. Or maybe I should take over?”
“Ha. You wouldn’t know good teaching if it throat-fucked you and came on your face.”
“Wow. That is incredibly vivid, and also unprofessional. You really haven’t changed at all.”
“Fuck you. You haven’t changed, either. Just as annoying as ever. No— more annoying. My bad.”
Shouto feels like he’s missing something here. And he doesn’t like it. But seeing Bakugou get so worked up is new. Kind of funny, actually. Shouto figures these two must know each other. There’s definitely some history here. Bad history, if their current interaction is anything to go off. Shouto would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about it.
Perhaps he can learn something from Dr. Midoriya, after all.
—•—
Midoriya has a reputation for a reason. Shouto has come to that conclusion within a matter of days. During his time spent avoiding Bakugou, he’s had several encounters with the plastic surgeon, and all of them have been nerve-wracking. The guy flirts with everyone. Shouto saw him give seven different nurses—male and female— his number yesterday alone. God only knows how many people are walking around with it. Shouto himself is no exception.
“Will you finally take my number today, peppermint?” Midoriya asks, holding out a slip of paper between his index and middle finger.
“Don’t call me that.” Without looking up from his tablet, Shouto takes the slip from him and runs it through the paper shredder at the nurse’s station. “Unless you’re here for a consultation please get back to work.”
“Ugh, so hard-to-get. I love it.” Midoriya leans against the counter beside him, ignoring the nurses ogling him. “If you’re free you should come to my next surgery.”
“I’ll pass.” Shouto hands the tablet to the nearest drooling, brain-dead nurse and levels Midoriya with an impassive stare. “Is there something you actually need from me?”
“Oh, I need a lot of things from—“
Something smacks him in the back of the head. Shouto nearly snorts, biting his tongue to hold back a laugh. Bakugou retrieves the rolled-up magazine he just threw with a self-satisfied smirk.
“My bad. I didn’t see you there.”
Midoriya gives him a smile with an underlying twinge of irritation. “Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”
“Funny. I was just on my way to ophthalmology.” Bakugou shoves his way between them, giving Shouto his usual scowl of greeting. “You’re supposed to be doing rounds.”
Shouto sighs. “I was in the middle of them before I was interrupted.” He shoots a meaningful glance at Midoriya.
Bakugou turns to him and crosses his arms. “Stop bothering my resident, you broccoli-headed fuckwit. How many times do I have to tell you? Go get your own.”
“That’s not very professional of you,” Midoriya says in a sickly-sweet tone that drips with concealed hatred. “Residents don’t belong to you.”
“This one does.” Bakugou turns back to Shouto and shoos him away. “Go. Go back to your rounds. Now, before you piss me off.”
Shouto doesn’t waste the opportunity to escape and retreats down the hall, waiting until he’s a safe distance away to collapse into a wall and scream internally. His face is exploding with heat, and his palms are slick with sweat.
My resident, Bakugou said. Although he meant it in the literal sense—that Shouto is a neurosurgical resident, and therefore technically his —it still makes his stupid traitorous heart race. Bakugou has been weirdly protective since Midoriya arrived, and it’s making Shouto’s resolve waver. He swore he wouldn’t catch feelings, but Bakugou is kind of the ideal man. Other than his offensive personality, anyway; but Shouto kind of likes that part, too. He has questionable taste, he’s discovered.
“Todoroki!” Sero comes jogging down the hall, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He greets Shouto with a grin and a smack on the shoulder. “Guess who just lost the bet again this week?”
Shouto rolls his eyes, but the words help him come back to his senses. He straightens up and releases a steadying breath.
“How’d you sexually harass Dr. Kaminari this time?”
“I’ll have you know we mutually took advantage of each other,” Sero huffs, leaning against the wall beside him. “I might have to lock it down for real.”
That’s been a common topic lately. Both Sero and Ashido seem to be getting tired of the bet, and if they drop out for good, Shouto is sure Jirou and Kirishima will follow. They’re already less invested than the others. The biggest problem is, of course, that Shouto will have no excuse to keep turning down Bakugou if two other residents have relationships with attendings.
“Todoroki!”
Sero and Shouto both turn to Midoriya, who’s coming toward them with a stupidly charming smile. Shouto nearly gags. Sero does gag, backpedaling in the opposite direction. “Sorry dude, I literally hate this guy. Talk to you later!”
Ugh. This is troublesome. If Bakugou sees Shouto talking to Midoriya again right after he told him to go back to work, he’ll snap. Although Shouto hasn’t found out what history they have, the mutual hatred between them is obvious. This translates to something akin to possessiveness on Bakugou’s part. It’s kind of amusing to see how upset he gets when Shouto pays Midoriya even an ounce of attention.
Actually… What would Bakugou do if he thought Shouto was getting close to him? Would he finally back off if Shouto consistently hung around the guy he hates? Even if he didn’t, it’d certainly make him mad, which is something Shouto would love to see. He really should’ve thought of this before.
“Can I ask you something a little strange?” Shouto asks as Midoriya reaches him.
He isn’t totally sure he should do this, but the idea of paying Bakugou back for all his harassment is too good to pass up—even if it requires some questionable help.
“You can ask me anything you want.”
Ugh. No. This is fine. Shouto can handle this guy. Compared to Bakugou, simplistic fuckboys like this are easy to deal with. This is all for the sake of revenge.
“Will you flirt with me to make Bakugou angry?” Shouto pauses. “Oh. Sorry. Saying it like that sounds…”
“Sure.”
“Oh.” Shouto looks at him in surprise. “Really? You’ll agree just like that?”
Midoriya shrugs. “Why not?” He’s still got that unflinching smile on his face as he leans in closer. “It’s because you realized, right? That the two of us don’t get along. And that’s why you’re asking me.”
“I guess.” Shouto shifts away slightly. “So… you’ll help me because you hate Bakugou?”
“Yep.”
“Honestly, I was expecting some resistance. For the sake of professionalism.” Although Midoriya isn’t exactly professional. He’s a raging playboy. “Are you sure you’re fine with this?” Shouto asks anyway.
“Of course.” Midoriya’s grin twists into a somewhat worrying smirk. “I haven’t been able to get under his skin in a long time. In reality, you’re the one helping me.”
Shouto isn’t sure he likes that look, but he just nods. “Alright, then. If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.” Midoriya holds out a hand. “I look forward to working with you.”
Although this was his idea, Shouto feels a bit like he’s made a contract with the devil as he shakes it.
—•—
“Since when are you and Dr. Slut a thing?” Sero demands the very second Shouto arrives at their hideout.
He blinks; scratches at his wrist nervously. The coat sleeves get itchy sometimes. And also if he doesn’t do something with his hands they’ll shake, which will give away how nervous he is. Convincing the other residents is a crucial part of his scheme.
“Uh…”
“No, because this is literally shocking,” Ashido stresses, placing her hands together in a gesture of criticism. “I knew he was hitting on you, but—“
“Have some standards,” Jirou interrupts without looking up from her phone.
“See?” Sero exclaims. “Even Jirou agrees. That just shows how strongly we all feel about him.”
“Strongly in a bad way,” Kirishima clarifies. “A very bad way.”
“That guy is the worst.”
“A dumpster full of used condoms.”
“A wad of gross tissues from a circle-jerk.”
“Someone’s winning pro-choice argument.”
Shouto grimaces. He expected this kind of reaction once the others found out, and he’s been debating about telling them the situation for a while. He’s known them for long enough now that he’s sure they won’t spread rumors, and he’s kind of tired of keeping it to himself.
“There’s a reason.” Shouto takes a steadying breath. “I never told you guys, but before work started, I—“
“You slept with Bakugou?” Jirou interrupts. “Yeah, we know.”
“What?” Shouto blinks at her, then at the others. “You… What?”
“Dude, it was so obvious,” Sero scoffs.
“Yeah,” Kirishima confirms sheepishly. “I mean…”
“Every time you look at each other it’s obvious you’ve seen each other naked,” Ashido jumps in. “Like, we didn’t mention it because it’s your choice to keep it quiet, but I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”
“I mean, he does hit on you literally all the time.” Sero raises an eyebrow. “Were you actually even trying to hide it?”
“I was,” Shouto sighs. “That’s the problem. We met in a bar, slept together once, and that was supposed to be the end of it. A singular mistake.”
“But then he turned out to be your attending.” Ashido winces. “Ooh, that’s so awkward. I can’t even imagine.”
“And he’s certainly not gracious about it,” Shouto grumbles. “I asked him to be professional and forget it ever happened, but he refused. That’s why I’m using Midoriya to get back at him.”
“Because they hate each other,” Sero surmises. “I get it. But are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I’m all for your personal revenge plot or whatever, but that guy is bad news.”
Ashido nods her agreement. “At least Bakugou isn’t sleazy and handsy.”
“I know it’s immature and not a very good idea,” Shouto admits. “I just want to see him squirm a little. I’ll distance myself from Midoriya as soon as that happens.”
They all give him the same look of skepticism, but nobody argues.
“I’m on your side.” Sero pats Shouto on the shoulder. “But yeah, it’s a stupid idea.”
“I also think it’s a terrible plan, but you guys know I love drama,” Ashido says happily.
“We’ll back you up should anything bad happen,” Kirishima adds, shooting him a double thumbs-up.
“I’m a pacifist, but I’d love to punch Dr. Midoriya given the chance,” Jirou concludes. She looks up from her screen and makes an “okay” sign with her fingers.
Shouto smiles; barely, but it’s genuine. He’s never had people be so supportive of him before—especially not of his bad ideas. But that’s what friends are, it seems: People who support both your wonderful and your terrible ideas. Even though this is definitely a terrible idea, Shouto feels a little better knowing he has them to back him up.
“Can we use this topic as a springboard real quick,” Ashido starts, “because I would love to end the attendings-are-a-no-no bet entirely. Dr. Uraraka is definitely making eyes at me lately, and it would be a literal crime for me to keep ignoring it. Plus Sero is already like balls-deep in Dr. Kaminari, anyway.”
“Yeah, no, to be honest, I fully ignored the bet from day one,” Sero says without an ounce of remorse. “A man has needs.”
“You’re weak. Truly weak.”
“As if you’re one to talk.”
“I’ll call it off,” Shouto says before they can argue any more. “It was merely my poor attempt to distract myself in the first place.”
“Wait… Did you catch feelings?” Ashido presses her hands to either side of her cheeky grin. “And then make the bet as an excuse to ignore them?”
“What? Did you really? Dude, that’s straight out of a manga,” Sero cackles. “How’d you think that’d work?”
Kirishima smacks him on the arm. “Don’t be rude, guys. Sometimes people don't want to come to terms with their feelings.” He hesitates. “Well. We’ve all met Bakugou. Can anyone really blame him?”
Shouto frowns. “I feel like that’s insulting.”
“But Kiri’s got a point,” Ashido mentions. “I mean, the guy is always angry about something, and he swears more than a Reddit post.”
“Yeah, but he’s…” Shouto pauses. “Well, he’s pushy, but he’s also hard-working. He never does anything halfway, and although he isn’t very professional, he’s good at what he does.”
“And he’s super hot,” Sero adds.
“And he’s super hot,” Shouto reluctantly confirms. “I’m not sure I even know why I started to like him, or when, or if I even do actually like him—but now he’s always on my mind.”
“Love is like that,” Ashido sighs heavily. “It messes you up, my friend.”
“We’ll all get messed up for real if we don’t get back to work.” Kirishima lifts his buzzing pager as evidence.
“I just want sex and drama,” Sero laments. “Why does work have to come first?”
“Something is seriously wrong with you.”
—•—
Bakugou has the expected reaction to Shouto’s scheme: He’s incredibly annoyed. This is obvious every time Midoriya is near Shouto, no matter what he’s doing—although the look on Bakugou’s face whenever Midoriya touches him is especially murderous. He’s going to get a wrinkle between his eyes at this rate, Shouto thinks.
What makes things difficult is Bakugou’s lack of action. Shouto was expecting a confrontation, wherein he could finally force Bakugou to agree to stop pursuing him and get rid of these feelings before they make him do something stupid. But Bakugou never says anything. He just glares at them silently and occasionally snaps at Shouto to get back to work.
Another problem has also begun to surface. Midoriya seems to be forgetting that this is all a fabrication. Or, at least, it’s supposed to be. Shouto should’ve expected things to go wrong given Midoriya’s reputation. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have asked a playboy to flirt with him expecting no consequences.
“You look tired.”
Shouto jumps. Who knows how long he stood here staring at the coffee machine before Jirou arrived.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” he murmurs, finally grabbing a cup. “My father’s house is old and creepy.”
Jirou raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow incredulously. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”
“Yes.” Shouto pauses. “No. I don’t know.” He takes his coffee cup from the machine with a sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“Is it trouble with your whore sidekick?”
“That’s… a unique way to describe him; but yes, I suppose.” Shouto takes a sip of coffee to calm himself down. “Bakugou hasn’t done anything about him. And it’s not like I wanted him to do anything. Originally, I just wanted to make him angry.”
“But you’re unhappy that he’s not doing anything,” Jirou guesses. “And I’m sure Midoriya is reveling in this chance to be extra creepy toward you.”
“You’re right about that.” Shouto closes his eyes for a moment. “I don’t really know what I should do anymore.”
“What do you want to do?”
Shouto glances at her sidelong. “I don’t know that, either.”
“Well. Think about it.” She waves at him, collecting her own cup of coffee—black; no cream and sugar like Shouto loads his with. A pretty reliable mirror of their personalities, he thinks.
“As if it’s that easy,” Shouto murmurs after she’s gone.
He has no idea what he really wants. He’s always had trouble with that—doing what he wants. He lacks individuality. He’s aware of that after so many years of doing what others told him to do. Only now that his father is dead and he has no one left to order him around has Shouto realized he doesn’t know how to make his own choices.
Feelings are convoluted things. Shouto doesn’t like them. If he reflects on how he feels about Bakugou, he’ll have to reflect on other feelings; things he’d rather not think about. Everything is connected in the brain. That’s obvious, even to those without a medical degree. Thoughts, feelings, memories—they’re inseparable.
“Todoroki.”
Shouto jumps. When he turns, Bakugou is standing directly behind him with his typical scowl and a tablet tucked under one arm.
“Hi.” He cringes at the way his voice cracks but manages to forge ahead. “Did you need something?”
“You’re in the way.” Bakugou glances at the coffee machine behind him pointedly.
“Oh.” Shouto scurries out of the way, nearly dropping his cup.
Bakugou puts a paper cup in the machine. The hiss of boiling water as the coffee brews fills the thick silence between them, but not enough to make it any less awkward.
“Where’s Deku?” Bakugou asks, his tone nonchalant despite his sour expression. “Doesn’t that bastard usually stick to you?”
“I don’t know.” Shouto shifts. This is the first time Bakugou has directly addressed Midoriya to him. “I haven’t seen him around today.”
“Good.” Bakugou retrieves his cup and turns to face Shouto, startling him with the intensity of his gaze. “There’s a Neuroendoscopy today. You want in?”
“What? Yes.” Shouto blinks; adjusts his hold on his coffee. “Uh… Yes.”
“Mm.” Bakugou studies him for a moment. He leans closer, smelling faintly of caramel. “You look pale.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Shouto manages, although he feels like he’s not breathing. “That’s what the coffee is for.”
“Mm,” Bakugou mumbles again, his eyes drilling into Shouto’s in a way that makes him self conscious. “If you need to rest, go to an on-call room. I won’t have a liability on my surgical team.”
“Understood.” Shouto licks his dry lips and coughs. “I’ll… I’ll see you later, then.”
“Mm,” Bakugou says one final time. He turns, pausing to level Shouto with an intimidatory stare. “Keep away from that guy. Focus on your work.”
He turns and leaves the cafeteria, stride lazy yet purposeful. Shouto releases a bated breath, steadying himself with a hand on the countertop. The coffee machine is still thrumming; background clamor to his skittering pulse. Every interaction with Bakugou is like an injection of epinephrine. He doesn’t make any sense. He’s possessive one moment and apathetic the next.
“Annoying,” Shouto murmurs, turning to leave the cafeteria. He’d rather focus on his work, like Bakugou said. At least work is simple. Treating patients feels much easier than dealing with any of this.
Shouto stops at the nurse’s station to get a tablet and start his rounds, keeping an eye out for Midoriya. He’s been subconsciously avoiding him lately, and now he’s going to do it consciously because he doesn’t feel like dealing with him today. He just wants to get through this shift and go home. He’s had a headache for several days now, and the nausea is getting hard to bear.
After the third patient in his rotation, Shouto pauses to check the time. Bakugou’s surgery begins at three. There’s still an hour left. He should be able to finish his rounds within that time if he hurries.
“Todoroki!”
Shit, Shouto almost swears aloud. He collects himself and turns to Midoriya with the most impassive look he can muster. “Hello.”
“I’ve been searching for you.” Midoriya leans his arm against the wall, boxing Shouto in with a provocative grin. “Are you doing rounds?”
“I was.” Shouto coughs into his hand. “And I have to finish quickly, so…”
“You don’t have a moment for me?” Midoriya presses, tilting his head closer. His hot breath ghosts over Shouto’s lips, making him flinch. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“I…I should get back to work.” Shouto presses the back of his hand into the wall to steady himself. His head is pounding, and he’s starting to feel a bit dizzy.
“It won’t take long,” Midoriya assures him.
Shouto doesn’t hear the rest of his words. The pain in his head overwhelms him, and when he closes his eyes to fight it, he finds himself unable to open them again.
—•—
Shouto’s head is full of cotton. When he forces his heavy eyelids open, it takes him a moment to focus. The underside of a wooden bed frame over his head. A thin cotton blanket. The gentle whir of an electric fan. It’s an on-call room.
“You’re awake.”
For a second, Shouto’s heart leaps. But when he turns, it isn’t Bakugou sitting beside him. It’s Midoriya.
“What happened?” Shouto mumbles, his tongue clumsy in his dry mouth.
“You fainted.”
“Oh.” Shouto closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, his head is clearer. “The time. What time is it?”
“Nearly five.” Midoriya presses a hand to Shouto’s chest when he tries to get up. “Hey, take it easy.”
“The surgery. I missed it.” Shouto rubs at his eyes. “I—I missed it,” he mutters again. “Bakugou will be mad.”
Midoriya clicks his tongue. “Well, he isn’t the one who’s here right now. Don’t worry about him.”
“What?” Shouto looks at him, still fighting off fatigue. “What… do you mean?”
“I’m sick of this.” In one unbroken motion, Midoriya straddles Shouto’s hips, grabs his wrists, and pins him to the narrow mattress.
“What are you doing?” Shouto tries to push him away. “Get off me.”
A kernel of panic lodges itself in his throat when his struggles fail. This asshole is much stronger than him. His grip is painful on Shouto’s wrists. He can tell it’ll leave bruises. He can't believe he let himself get into this situation. He’s beyond stupid. He should’ve listened to Bakugou.
“You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” Midoriya licks his lips. His predatory gaze makes Shouto shudder. “You’ve been playing hard-to-get, but I know how you really feel.”
Air hisses between Shouto’s teeth as Midoriya’s icy hand forces its way under his scrubs. “Get off. I’m serious.” He kicks his legs in a futile struggle to wriggle free. “Don’t touch me!”
“Stop being so coy.” Midoriya’s tongue slips over Shouto’s neck, teeth digging in at his trapezius. His hand covers Shouto’s mouth to keep him from screaming.
Shouto clenches his jaw and finally manages to wrench one of his arms free with a surge of adrenaline. He drives his palm into Midoriya’s throat.
He chokes, and Shouto takes the opportunity to kick him off. He presses his back into the wall for stability, ready to kick the bastard if he comes close again.
“Get out,” Shouto orders as calmly as he can. His whole body is shaking, but he manages to keep the tremor out of his voice. “Now.”
Clutching at his Adam’s apple, Midoriya shoots him a glare, but he doesn’t try anything else. He stumbles to his feet and leaves, not fully closing the door on his way out. Shouto deflates, releasing a gasp of air that leaves him trembling uncontrollably. He knows why this happens medically, but that doesn’t help him put a stop to it. He’ll just have to wait for the trauma response to wear off.
Shouto curls onto his side and focuses on taking deep breaths.
Shit. This isn’t how anything was supposed to happen. He’s supposed to be in surgery assisting Bakugou right now. Midoriya was supposed to be a means to an end. He wanted…
What? What did he want? What did he want out of all of this? Why did he do it? He turned Bakugou down—he shouldn’t want or need anything from him—so why?
“Oi, Todoroki, you in here?”
Shouto flinches, but this time it really is Bakugou. As if he was summoned through thought alone, he appears in the doorway, the warm artificial light from the hallway beyond casting his outline in soft gold. Shouto can still faintly imagine it even after he’s stepped inside and closed the door.
“Wait.” Shouto is shocked by the quality of his voice. Uneven, fragile; like heat-warped glass. “Just… just wait.”
Bakugou doesn’t listen, of course. He never does. He kneels beside the bed, his elbows pressing into the mattress. Shouto exhales weakly, and the sting of salt in his eyes alerts him to the tears there.
“What happened?” Bakugou demands. He’s incapable of being considerate, it seems. “Let me take a look at you if you’re not feeling well, dumbass.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto murmurs, but he doesn’t fight him.
Bakugou pulls him into a sitting position, his calloused fingers brushing over Shouto’s face, touching the vulnerable parts of him and leaving behind their warmth. They pause where Shouto expects them to: the bite on his neck and his wrists, which have likely begun to bruise already.
“What is this?” Bakugou asks in a tone Shouto is unfamiliar with. Quiet, measured, dripping with something cold and dangerous.
“I fainted earlier.”
Bakugou’s shoulders tense.
“It was from exhaustion,” Shouto continues quickly. “I think it was from exhaustion. I—I hadn’t been feeling well. Anyway, Midoriya brought me here afterwards. When I woke up, he pushed me down…“
“Fuck.” Bakugou slams his fist into the small bedside table. It cracks, but he doesn’t spare it a second glance. “Fuck,” he says again, the grit of his teeth audible in the tense quiet between his words. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Bakugou.” Shouto catches him by the wrist. “No. It’s my fault. I was careless. I knew he was—“
“It’s not your fault,” Bakugou interrupts harshly, his unflinching gaze catching Shouto off guard. “It’s not your fault,” he repeats more softly, his hands settling on Shouto’s shoulders. Maybe he can be considerate, after all.
“It is my fault.” Shouto doesn’t try to stop the tears that slip unbidden down his cheeks. “I… I did all this just because—because I wanted you to—“
“It doesn’t matter,” Bakugou insists, forcing Shouto to meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what happened. You are not at fault. Do you understand?”
After a moment, Shouto nods weakly. He wipes his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry. About everything.”
“We’ll talk more about this when I get back.” Bakugou stands, his touch lingering for a second before he opens the door, his shoulders set in an aggressive forward tilt.
Oh no. No, no. Shouto already knows what he’s planning to do. He scrambles to his feet to follow him, not bothering to worry about the disarrayed state of the on-call room or the definitely visible, still-bleeding bite mark on his neck. He sees Bakugou ask a startled nurse something before turning to storm toward the cafeteria with violent purpose.
Shouto stumbles in mere seconds after Bakugou does, but he’s already several feet ahead of him. Midoriya is standing in line for coffee, smiling flirtatiously at a nurse, as if nothing happened. It makes Shouto’s stomach turn.
“You bastard!”
Midoriya turns directly into Bakugou’s left hook. Shouto would be lying if he said it wasn’t a bit cathartic.
Midoriya stumbles, throwing his arm out to keep from falling. It knocks over a shelf of chips and they scatter across the cafeteria, crunching under people’s feet. Chip fragments ricochet in every direction, coating the floor in crumbs.
Great. As if the punch itself didn’t draw enough attention.
“What’s your problem?!” Midoriya yells. His lip is split. Blood drips onto the floor as he talks, and he lifts a hand to staunch it.
Bakugou grabs him by the collar of his scrubs and yanks him closer. “My problem? You’re the one who keeps going after things that don’t belong to you.” He shoves Midoriya away hard enough to knock him off balance. “Maybe you should stop thinking with your dick and you won’t get punched, you fucking asshole.”
Midoriya narrows his eyes. “It’s been months now and you haven’t staked your claim on anything, so don’t get cocky.” He smirks; a gesture that makes Shouto’s skin crawl. “Oh, I get it. Are you mad I made a move before you could?”
“Made a move?” Bakugou repeats through gritted teeth.
Oh, shit.
Before Shouto can step in, Bakugou launches himself at Midoriya and tackles him to the ground. Several people have to jump out of the way of their flailing limbs. Someone drops their coffee, and there’s soon a wide berth around the fight.
“You and your tiny dick are getting on my fucking nerves!” Bakugou throws another punch, and Midoriya blocks it with his arm. “Dammit. Why are you so obsessed with me, huh? Go do your own thing, you fucking psycho! Does it make you feel better trying to copy me? Does it? You’ve been like this since you were six. Stop taking my shit!”
“My dick is huge, asshole!” Midoriya catches Bakugou in the face with his elbow, reversing their positions. “I’m not obsessed with you, and he doesn’t belong to you! You’re just jealous I got to him first!”
”Shut your whore mouth.” Bakugou knees Midoriya in the groin and roughly throws him to the side. He grabs him by the hair, shoving his face into a pile of broken chips. “I got to him before you even started working here, you bag of saggy dick tips. And you know what? I fucked him! You didn’t even get past a kiss because you’re that fucking disgusting!”
“This is amazing,” Sero stage-whispers, zooming in on his phone camera. He gives Shouto an apologetic smile when he glares at him. “Sorry, dude. I’m totally on your side, but I seriously need this on film.”
Several other people are filming, too. This is a nightmare. Shouto’s legs are shaking, and the bite on his neck is starting to sting. But if he’s being honest, it’s kind of satisfying to watch two hot guys fight over him—even if one of them is a creep and the other has some serious anger issues.
“ROCK HIS SHIT DR. BAKUGOU!” Ashido cheers at the top of her lungs. She downs an entire cup of coffee in one gulp and throws the empty cup at Midoriya’s head. “FINISH HIM! I NEVER LIKED THAT FRECKLED TWUNK!”
Shouto chokes on a laugh. Kirishima fumbles for his shoulder, and his expression—trying to hold it together because he’s a good person, but he’s clearly on the verge of losing it—finally pushes Shouto over the edge himself. He bursts out laughing, and Kirishima joins in as if he was merely waiting for permission.
Jirou, with her ever-present headphones in, locks eyes with him. Karma, she mouths with a satisfied smile.
It feels good to laugh. This is kind of hilarious, Shouto relents. He might as well enjoy watching the guy he’s probably in love with beat the shit out of a guy who really deserves it. Although they have a lot to talk about after this, and Shouto is still pissed about what happened back in that on-call room, he figures it’s okay to let loose and laugh at the absurdity of his own life once in a while.
He might ask Sero for the video of this later.
—•—
Needless to say, Midoriya and Bakugou are both punished. Bakugou is suspended for a week, and Midoriya is put under review given the other allegations raised against him. Apparently several nurses weren’t very happy about his unwanted advances, either.
Shouto doesn’t take any time off work. He spends the week of Bakugou’s absence treating patients and handling his workload as usual. It’s better for him than sitting in his father’s creepy old house dwelling on everything. Shouto is the type that prefers to move past things as quickly as possible.
He hasn’t been ignoring his feelings, though. On the contrary, he’s been working through them—literally. Work helps him collect his thoughts. Between diagnoses and treatments, Shouto has formulated a loose strategy of what to do once Bakugou returns.
He likes him. That’s unavoidable to admit at this point. And now that the bet with the other residents is off, he can’t use that as an excuse. Bakugou also said they needed to talk, so Shouto is steeling himself. Although he isn’t sure what he wants, he doesn’t care about being professional with Bakugou anymore. They’re past that. Even if they weren’t, Shouto is tired of pretending he doesn’t feel anything for him.
The other residents—alright, so they’re probably his friends by now—are vicariously enjoying the end of the bet.
“Spring has sprung,” Sero proclaims happily, falling into Kirishima’s shoulder with a lovesick sigh. “It’s official, guys. We’re exclusive.”
“That’s great, man,” Kirishima congratulates. “I’m almost impressed. You and Mina sure do work fast.”
“What?” Sero shoots Ashido a scandalized look. “You’re shitting me right now. You already made a move?”
“I asked Uraraka out for drinks.” Ashido flashes a cheeky grin and a peace sign. “We’re going this Saturday.”
Sero pouts. “Whatever. I still win since I got into an attending’s pants first.”
“No you didn’t,” Ashido, Kirishima, and Jirou say all at once. They look at Shouto, and he flushes.
“Leave me out of this, please.”
“I hate all of you.” Sero flips them off one at a time, stopping when he reaches Shouto. “Not you, buddy. You’re a victim. But the rest of you can suck my entire ass.”
“Kaminari’s already got that covered,” Jirou drones dryly.
Ashido snorts. Shouto has to fight off a smile. Kirishima rolls his eyes.
“You’re all so immature.”
“And you’re such a virgin, Kiri.” Sero sniffs indignantly. “Go whore yourself out like us and then come talk shit.”
“I’d rather not.” Kirishima glances at Shouto. “Speaking of whores… Any news on what they’re doing with that creep Midoriya?”
“He’s still under review, but I heard he’ll be transferring to a different hospital,” Ashido supplies. She studies her perfectly manicured pink nails with pursed lips. “He’s lucky I didn’t get my hands on him. I know how to pass a polygraph test”
“You’re terrifying,” Sero says cheerfully. “But good riddance to that guy.” He claps Shouto on the shoulder. “I’m rooting for you and Bakugou.”
“Thanks?” Shouto frowns. “To tell the truth, I don’t know what to say to him when he comes back.”
“I’ll demonstrate. Sero, assist me.” Ashido waits until Sero is in front of her and clears her throat, taking him by the shoulders. “Bakugou. I’m sorry for ignoring you for so long. I want you to fuck my brains out.”
“Oh, finally! I thought you’d never ask.”
“Take me now, daddy~”
“Shut up.” Jirou throws an empty cab of juice at them. “Don’t listen to them, Todoroki. Just be honest with him.”
Shouto hopes it’ll be that easy.
—•—
When Bakugou returns, Shouto isn’t really sure how to act around him. They don’t see each other in the morning. Shouto has rounds to do, and Bakugou probably had to meet with Chief Aizawa before starting work again. Not running into him was almost worse than having to face him right away. It gave Shouto more time to second-guess himself.
After Shouto finishes his rounds, he finally spots Bakugou. He’s loitering by the vending machines on the hospital’s topmost floor. He must’ve looked at Shouto’s schedule and waited here. When they lock eyes across the hall, he approaches with obvious purpose.
“Todoroki.” He gives Shouto a slow once-over, as if he’s absorbing the sight of him. It has been a while, Shouto supposes, so he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Bakugou.” He hugs his arm to his chest; shifts his weight. It fails to make him any less nervous. “We still have to talk, don’t we?”
“Mm.” Bakugou glances around, as if searching for a place. He seems displeased with the options. “Not here. Come with me.”
Shouto follows him wordlessly. He has to save his courage for what he wants to say. He’s never been good at confessing his feelings. Hell, he’s never even done it before. Thought about it, but never actually done it. He didn’t have the guts back in high school. He barely has them now.
Bakugou leads him to a staff lounge two floors below, clearing it with a few harsh glares and locking the door once they’re alone. Shouto’s heart somersaults. His stomach is doing backflips. Shit. This is a hospital, not the Olympics. Why is he panicking so much?
“I wanted to apologize,” Bakugou says, startling him.
“What?” Shouto squints at him. “Why… What are you apologizing for?”
“Deku. All that shit that happened.” Bakugou drags a hand through his hair with a sigh. “It’s my fault. That guy… He always tries to mess with me, and this time you were caught in the crossfire.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” Shouto sighs, shaking his head softly. “I mean… Shouldn’t we both be blaming Midoriya himself instead of saying things like that?”
Bakugou slowly cracks a smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He leans against the counter at his back, spreading his hands out on either side of his hips. “If that’s out of the way, then we have something else to talk about.”
“I know.” Shouto takes a deep breath. He holds Bakugou’s gaze, ignoring his racing heart. He can do this. He has to do this. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. About you. And this. Us.” He pauses. “You said you liked me before, and I didn’t… I didn’t really know what to do. After everything that’s happened, I guess I realized that I—well, I’ve actually been thinking for a while—“
“Todoroki.” Bakugou’s lips twitch into an amused smile. “You’re really bad at this.”
Shouto flushes. “You don’t have to say it to my face like that.”
“Sorry. It’s kinda cute.”
“Saying that is just insulting…”
“You really are too sensitive.” Bakugou moves toward him, lifting his hand to the small of Shouto’s back. He pulls him close, his breath ghosting over Shouto’s lips. “Am I right in assuming you changed your mind?”
Shouto nods, just barely. “I want to start over. Can we do that?”
“Sure.” Bakugou’s grin widens ever so slightly. “In that case, I’ll give you another chance to reply.” He touches Shouto’s face, running his thumb across his bottom lip. “I like you.”
Shouto breathes in the smell of him; lifts a hand to cover his. He exhales all of his remaining hesitation with the words, “Me, too.”
Bakugou kisses him, then, in a way that literally takes Shouto’s breath away. Bakugou’s tongue steals the air from him as it interlocks with his own, warming his mouth like the sun warms skin on a hot day. Shouto’s body aches for more. He remembers this feeling even though months have passed since they last touched like this, and he was drunk when it happened.
“Wait,” Shouto mumbles when Bakugou’s hands slip beneath his scrubs. “Hold on. We can’t… do this here.”
“It’s fine. I locked the door.”
“That’s not—“
Shouto bites back a groan as Bakugou's teeth dig softly into the skin above his collarbone. He moves his tongue up Shouto’s neck, slipping it back into his mouth for another dizzying kiss. Shouto exhales weakly, grinding against the knee pressing between his legs.
Bakugou pauses with his hand on Shouto’s inner thigh and meets his eyes. “Is it okay?”
After everything that’s happened, Shouto doesn’t see the sense in saying no anymore. He wants this. He has for a while.
“It’s okay,” he breathes, pressing his fingertips into Bakugou’s shoulders. “I want you.”
“Then I won’t make you wait anymore.”
His fingers are hot, melting Shouto from the inside. He presses toward him, pulling him closer, eventually picking him up as if he weighs nothing. There are no beds in the staff lounge, so Bakugou sits on the sofa with Shouto on his lap.
Shouto strips off his clothes himself, then tears at Bakugou’s impatiently. His heart hammers in his throat, almost like it’s trying to claw its way out. Everywhere Bakugou touches him is hot. Shouto can barely breathe from the overflow of stimulation.
“I don’t have a condom,” Bakugou mutters in Shouto’s ear.
“It’s fine,” Shouto breathes. He can barely think. “Don’t need one. Hurry.”
“No lube, either. Will you be okay?”
“There’s gotta be something here,” Shouto mumbles impatiently. “Vaseline? Aloe?”
Bakugou reaches for the cabinet next to the sofa and digs around in a drawer with one hand. He swears softly, his breath warm on Shouto’s neck. He tilts his head back with a sigh, desire rumbling from the pit of his stomach through his throat.
“Got it.”
Shouto doesn’t pay attention to what he uses. He holds onto Bakugou’s shoulders as he penetrates him, releasing a shuddering breath. It’s been so long that he almost forgot this sensation. His grip loosens, and he leans back to let Bakugou go even deeper.
“Hold onto me,” Bakugou says, his voice rumbling against Shouto’s throat. The muscles of his shoulders strain under Shouto’s hands as he moves his hips.
“Harder,” Shouto moans. “Do it harder.”
Bakugou lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”
Shouto kisses him to shut him up. He tastes like coffee, and his hair is soft against Shouto’s fingers as he runs his hands through it. Perfect. His body, too. His muscles flex under his sunny skin, and it’s like magic. Everything about him seems perfect, other than his sometimes abrasive personality. Shouto is glad he fell for him nevertheless.
He can’t believe it took him so long to realize that.
—•—
“I heard Dr. Dickbag transferred to Yokohama. Not as far as I’d like, but at least he’s finally gone.”
Shouto looks up from his tablet to meet Ashido’s eyes. “That’s the first good news I’ve heard all day.”
“Wish they would’ve just taken his license,” Jirou mutters, picking at one of her chipped black nails with a curled lip. “There’s no way men like that can take medicine seriously.”
Kirishima nods. “At least he won’t ever come back here. Oh, and I heard Bakugou broke his nose.”
“Is that so?” Shouto conceals a smile. He already knew, of course. Bakugou told him very proudly as soon as he heard. “How tragic.”
While the others chatter on about Midoriya’s fate, Shouto looks across the nurse’s station at the hallway leading to the emergency room. Bakugou is talking to the ortho attending, Yaoyorozu. They lock eyes, and Shouto’s heart pounds in reaction to the faint twitch of his lips, and the way he tilts his head in discreet greeting. When Shouto turns away from him, he holds up three fingers.
After saying goodbye to the other residents and dropping his tablet at the nurse’s station, Shouto heads to the third on-call room and waits. He doesn’t wait long. Bakugou lets himself in, locks the door, and pulls Shouto against him. His kiss is hot and impatient, tasting of peppermint toothpaste. He must’ve not had any coffee yet.
Shouto slips his hands under Bakugou’s shirt, tracing the line of his spine. His muscles flex under Shouto’s hands, and he releases a breath against his lips.
“How much time do you have?” he murmurs.
“Enough.” Shouto presses their hips together. “You already seem ready to go, anyway.”
“You’re such a bastard.” Bakugou flips Shouto around and presses him into the door, running a finger along the waistband of his pants. “You better take these off yourself.”
Shouto complies, his fingers trembling in their hurry. He’s barely got them off when Bakugou thrusts into him. His dick hits the back of Shouto’s stomach, and he lets out a shuddering moan. With each of his movements, Bakugou kisses the back of Shouto’s neck. He sucks on the skin below his ear, teeth nipping lightly.
Holding a hand to his mouth, Shouto rests his forehead against the door and tries to hold back his voice. Katsuki’s hand slides under his scrubs and up his stomach, teasing his chest. The other moves along Shouto’s cock from base to tip, slower than his thrusts. He’s doing it on purpose. If he had his way, the whole hospital would hear them every time they do this.
“Don’t…touch.” Shouto bites the end of his finger. “Cumming—“
“It’s fine,” Bakugou murmurs in his ear. “Go ahead.”
Shouto is about to protest when there’s a knock at the door. The handle turns, and Shouto’s pulse skyrockets as a voice calls, “Dr. Todoroki? Are you in there? You’re being paged.”
“I’m sleeping,” Shouto replies without thinking. He inhales sharply, and then stifles another moan as Bakugou thrusts deeper into him. “I—I mean…I was. Give me ten—ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
The footsteps recede, and Shouto nearly collapses from relief. He lets out a weak groan and curls his hands into fists against the door. When he cums, his legs lose all their strength. If Bakugou wasn’t holding him up, he’d probably fall.
Bakugou exhales and pulls out, moving one hand to Shouto’s waist. He reaches for a tissue box with the other, and Shouto leans back against his chest as he wipes him off.
“You’ll make the five minute cutoff,” Bakugou says, kissing the length of Shouto’s neck. “I’ll wait ten minutes. If anybody asks, tell them you haven’t seen me.”
“Mm.” Shouto closes his eyes. “I wish we didn’t have to keep it a secret.”
“Only from the nurses. They like to gossip.” Bakugou dumps the used condom and tissues in the trash. “Can you stand?”
“I’m fine.” Shouto moves away from him, fixing his clothes with slightly shaky hands. After a deep breath, he’s steady again. He turns to pull Bakugou in for a final kiss, wishing it could last longer.
Bakugou pulls him back by the sleeve of his coat before he can reach the door. “We on for dinner tonight?”
Shouto smiles. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “Sure. Page me.” He unlocks the door. “I’ll see you soon.” He slips out into the hall, taking an extra moment to make sure he looks put together.
“There you are!” A nurse pounces on him as soon as she spots him, shoving a tablet into his hand and ushering him down the hall. “They need you in room five.”
Work has been easier to deal with in the sense that Shouto no longer has a lot on his mind all the time. But it’s also harder, because he’s having somewhat of a sexual awakening now that he can do it with Bakugou whenever he wants. It’s not affecting his performance, but he’s afraid people will start to notice just how close he and Bakugou have become, and how often they’re missing at the same time. If anyone looks closely, they’ll see that their relationship goes beyond the typical relationship of a resident and attending. They’re not very good at being discreet.
Although, Shouto isn’t sure they’ll face any serious repercussions if they’re found out. He’s come to this conclusion through observation of the other attendings, as well as his fellow residents. He was too stressed about Bakugou and Midoriya to realize, but now he’s noticing a lot of things he didn’t before.
For example, Jirou and the head of ortho seem to spend a lot of time together. Shouto rarely sees Jirou smile, but she’s almost always glowing with happiness when Dr. Yaoyorozu is near. He already knew about Sero and Kaminari, obviously, but he’s starting to wonder if Jirou was also losing the bet since the first day. The way they act together is certainly suspicious, but Jirou never got caught; Shouto supposes that lets her off the hook.
Kirishima is the only one who hasn’t shown much interest in dating. He only seemed to participate in the bet for social purposes in the first place. Things worked out for him, then, because they’ve all become much closer by sharing their love drama. In fact, much to Shouto’s disbelief, his fellow residents have almost started to feel like family.
At lunch, Ashido finds Shouto before he can reach the cafeteria. “Todoroki! There’s an empty patient room that Biohazard blocked off. You wanna sneak in and watch TV with us?”
A few months ago, Shouto would’ve wrinkled his nose at the idea. Now, he just shrugs and says, “Sure.”
“Excellent.” Ashido smacks him on the shoulder with a grin. “Get your lunch and bring it. The others are already there.”
Shouto salutes her, watching her run off back down the hallway. He’s been struggling not to smile too much lest he ruin his icy reputation. He doesn’t mind doing it around his friends and Bakugou, but keeping up appearances around the others is important to him. He can’t have more people thinking they should approach him. The friends he inadvertently made already are enough.
“Todoroki.” A hand settles around his wrist, warm and familiar. Bakugou’s lips twitch when they lock eyes. “I overheard your conversation. Mind if I join?”
“Sure.” Shouto stares at him for a moment longer than necessary before refocusing on the mission at hand. “Let’s get food quickly.”
They order their lunches and find the sequestered room, where Shouto’s fellow residents are busy channel-surfing. Ashido is the first to notice Shouto’s guest, and she cracks a shit-eating grin.
“Dr. Bakugou. I hope you’re a willing accomplice?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Jirou snorts. Ashido claps her hands.
“That’s the attitude I like to see. Take a seat.”
Bakugou accepts the empty spot on the bed she offers, pulling Shouto along to sit beside him. Kirishima shifts on the end to make room for them, giving Shouto a less obnoxious smile.
“Yes!” Sero exclaims, entirely absorbed in combing through the TV channels. “They’re showing Akira.”
“Ugh, no anime. I wanna watch Hanzawa Naoki.”
“That’s so cliché. Let's see if we can find Kounodori.”
“Talk about cliché. We are not watching a medical drama in a hospital. As doctors.”
Shouto laughs softly, quiet enough that nobody can hear him. Bakugou wraps an arm around his waist, but he’s still watching the TV. He’s smiling; a rare, relaxed smile that Shouto tries to commit to memory.
A lot has happened in the past several months. Drama, heartache, anxiety, and more. But right now, Shouto feels content. He feels at ease. As he thought before, he’s really glad he fell in love. He’s glad it was with Bakugou.
For what might be the first time in his life, Shouto is incredibly happy. It’s a feeling he could stand to get used to.