Bakugou Katsuki didn't know what was fucking happening anymore.

Aside from finally coming to school after a whole year of nothing, he is rigorously confused about everything. Like, fuck, he should have been a full-fledged Pro Hero at this point, but no, fucking villains have to make his whole life difficult and attack UA again and again until the school was so wrecked that it had to close for a year.

Now he's here, he's twenty, and ready to finish his last year already so his life can really begin. Moving back into the dorms made everything more real. Seeing the faces of all his friends after months of just talking through text with some of them, already being done with their shit, and having homework for classes; it's something that makes him almost preen.

And if that was really it, he would have been pleased as fuck. His last year of UA would have been relatively peaceful. Almost too peaceful. Yea, he reckons that the villains are not done with them, because most of them are still moving freely like the rotten bastards they are, but UA seems so changed and secure this time around that maybe they won't go after it a second time without being too fucking stupid.

But that is not the current problem, for the first time in forever. No. Not fucking villains. It’s actually students.

"I... I like you."

Katsuki stares, and then stares some more without an ounce of shame. Here she is, a bit shorter than him, blush on cheeks, lips red-bitten, with peach-hued hair that is shorter than Uraraka's, and orange eyes that aren't even able to stare back at him while she does this whole confession thing.

He's been called outside the door of their classroom for a goddamn confession. Again.

It doesn't help that there are students all around them, again, and his own shitty classmates behind him, snickering and groaning like it's his fault that these people are coming almost every day to tell him they have all sorts of crushes on him.

Bakugou Katsuki really doesn't fucking know what is going on.

A year ago, all of these students would have run at the sight of him and his grumpy expression. They wouldn't even dare to be in the same vicinity as him, always cautious whenever he's around or throwing him looks. It was expected. He had liked it. Liked being intimidating, being left alone to his own shit.

Now, it's like a damn barrage burst open, because it's been just a year. No big difference except for the fact that he grew in height and has a subtle undercut. He's the same as ever, or he thinks he is, but now they are actually seeking him out and talking to him and telling him they'd like to hold hands, kiss, go on dates with him.

It's a whole shitshow that's giving him migraines, and the fact that he actually does have a boyfriend and no one listens to that is even more maddening.

"You like me." He finds himself saying, voice neutral and fists clenching from inside his pockets, where he forcefully shoved them when he saw another girl with a shy posture waiting for him. "Why?"

She looks lost at that, and he hears what can possibly be only Mina actually bursting a goddamn lung laughing from somewhere inside the classroom, but before he can yell at everyone, the peach-haired girl takes a step closer with a somewhat determined look on her red face.

"You're handsome," she says, making him grit his teeth. "And- And powerful, and really smart. And I like that you're really straightforward... and... "

Oh, he's heard that before. Many, many times these past weeks. It doesn't even baffle him anymore - the way they admit they love to hear the truth when he knows in the past years most of them were mostly offended whenever he opened his mouth to say exactly what he was thinking. And not to mention the sudden, spectacular fancy many have taken over his looks - this still kind of baffles him. Three years of almost nothing, and all of a sudden they think he’s the tits? Katsuki doesn’t even want to mull over this one. It just feels - useless, shallow. Maybe they do think he’s handsome now, for their own reasons, but at the end of it all, it doesn’t really matter. 

"Look," he sighs, not even angry anymore. The fact that Yaoyorozu is holding the back of his shirt in a warning that wasn't needed didn't make it better. He’s just tired at the moment. Maybe a bit irritated. "I can't accept your feelings."

"But..." Her lips tremble, which makes it ten times worse. "Why?"

His eyebrow twitches. Damnit all. "I'm not interested. And like I told that girl a few days ago, and the guy a week ago, I'm taken. "

She looks completely floored. Which makes no goddamn sense because he had said it so many times in the past weeks, you'd think the whole school knew by now that Bakugou fucking Katsuki isn't interested and is taken. What does he have to do for them to get it? Write it with a permanent marker on his forehead? Put on a shirt that says "if lost, return to my actual fucking boyfriend"?

But of course, it's not his fault that they don't believe it, not when his friends, his shitty, idiotic friends, have the nerve to groan right in his ears, right in front of this girl, and begin to complain yet again.

"Dude, you need to stop saying that." Kaminari, the dumb fuck, rests his forehead against Kirishima's shoulder like he's truly exasperated. "The lie is so old, no one even wants to hear it anymore, let alone believe it."

"Yea.” Frog girl, Tsu, shakes her head from beside him. "Really, it's okay to just say that you're not interested, Bakugou-kun."

"No one faults you for having a heart of stone, bro." Kirishima grins at him, raising his eyebrows. "Don't worry about it."

Katsuki gives them the meanest of glares while peach-haired girl excuses herself with a trembling bow, before running with her glaring friends on her tail. The rest of the students watching begin to whisper among themselves while they also empty the hall, but fuck if he even cares about rumors anymore.

Katsuki closes the door forcefully, turning around with his teeth bared and palms ready to sweat and explode. "Didn't I fucking tell you to stop saying I'm lying, you damn morons?"

Yaoyorozu lets go of his shirt, sighing like she just prevented a whole damn war. "Don't fight, guys. Aizawa-sensei will be here in five minutes."

" Stop giving them excuses to keep coming!" Katsuki goes on, uncaring of Ponytail's glare. He just needs to be done with this once and for all. "I don't fucking need confessions being thrown at me every day!"

"We're not giving them excuses," Mineta, the little fucking shit, rolls his eyes. "We're just tired of you lying about getting laid. You should be grateful that you have so many people looking your way."

Stepping closer, Katsuki relishes in the little shudder that goes through Mineta's whole body at his glare. He slaps his hands on his desk, not bothering to hide the smoke from his palms. "Grateful? Didn't you fucking hear me say that I don't want their attention? And who the fuck is getting laid, huh?"

"Not you," Sero mutters, earning a few more snickers from their classmates.

"Yea, that's like, the fifteenth time you turned down a chance at getting laid, dude." Mineta crosses his arms, looking petty.

Katsuki is really ready to blow this fucking school; fuck graduating.

"Hey now," Kirishima steps in, earning a thundering growl from the blond when he just smiles, full of mischief. "He might be getting laid, but he sure as fuck isn't in a relationship."

These fucking-

"Guys," Iida says from his seat, a dutiful frown already locked on his stern face. "Stop teasing Bakugou-san. Aizawa-sensei could come in any second now."

"I'm already here." Aizawa materializes in front of the teacher's desk, enveloped in his yellow sleeping back. Most of the extras around Katsuki startle with looks of horror. "Now, if you can stop making Bakugou lose his mind, I'd like to start the class already."

Everyone hurries to sit at their desks, leaving Katsuki fuming in his own seat, hands already drenched in sweat. He wipes them on his pants, exhaling with a grimace of anger. The pulsing in his temples is not fucking helping with this shit.

Someone clears their throat when Aizawa turns around to write something on the chalkboard. Katsuki turns around, observing the curious way in which Todoroki looks at him. It's maddening.

"You could just show them a picture of your lover and they'll stop," Icyhot mumbles, and it's even more maddening. He almost looks amused. Fucking amused. "If you really have one, of course."

Katsuki stares at him, half full of anger, half-frozen in disbelief, because this blank fucker just teased him.

Really, what the fuck is even happening anymore?

On other days - hell, on most days, you wouldn't catch Katsuki slipping about anything, but right now he doesn't care, so he plops down onto the sofa in their common area, groans all his misery out, and remains there.

Not even when his infuriating friends come to just sit all around him, does he move. He's tired. He feels like his damn sensei; all he needs is the horrifying bags under his eyes and the non-bullshit expression on his face.

But he doesn't even get that. Instead, he gets even more annoyance, because that's just how life works these days.

"I can't believe you went from one confession once a few days to three confessions in a single day. What the fuck did you do, dude?" Sero makes himself comfortable on the floor next to the other coach, not even flinching when Katsuki growls in warning. "Like, I get it. You're hot, and cool. But how? You can't even speak for a minute without screaming! How is that attractive?"

"It's not about that." Uraraka suddenly appears as well, looking ready for bed with her whole pajama outfit, despite the bounciness of her steps. "I mean, yea, he's the biggest hot-head. But he's also really witty, and kind of calm when you leave him alone. I guess that works for a lot of people."

"Some people love the aspect of taming the untamed," Frog girl ribbits from the open kitchen, cup of tea in her hands.

"He’s good at everything," Jiro says next, eyeing him with some kind of mysterious glint in her eyes. "Maybe some of them were charmed when they saw you play the drums at the Festival two years ago. You were kinda amazing."

"His face is not unpleasant, either," Mina peeps from her whatever magazine to give him a sly grin. "You're pretty when you don't scowl, Bakugo. With the whole unruly blond, narrow eyes, bad boy thing going on. And muscles. "

"Shut up," Katsuki says. It's not a moan of despair. It's fucking not. "Shut the fuck up."

"You're so attractive," Kaminari mocks, voice going high-pitch like the confident chick that strolled towards them in Rush Lunch Cafeteria, ready to take Katsuki and wine and dine him. "I've been watching you train these days. So hot. How about you go on a date with me, handsome?"

"Not interested," Ojiro plays his game, of all people, lowering his voice in something that doesn't even fucking sound like Katsuki. "I'm taken. "

" Taken," Kirishima repeats in the same gruff tonality. Katsuki grits his teeth for the hundredth time today, feeling his gums ache with the force of it. "So taken, my ass is tattooed with it."

"I will roast all of you, fuckers," he warns, but doesn't lift his head from the cushion. It's too damn comfortable, and his temples are still pulsing.

"You just gotta admit." Katsuki doesn't even want to hear what Mineta has to say, but the purple little shit doesn't get the message of his snarl, so he continues. "At least to us, dude. No one else is in a relationship either. It's okay."

"Todoroki-kun just lets them down with a simple I'm not interested, " Invisible chick says, somewhere from his left. She sounds a bit too close, like she's looming over him. "And let's be real, he has a bigger chance to enter a relationship first. No offense."

That gets on his nerves. Hard. Fuck no offense. Fuck them. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he glares at everyone who murmurs in agreement, teeth clicking like a feral dog. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

No one startles at his outburst. Todoroki has the nerve to merely glance at him, like Katsuki is some goddamn hissing kitten. After three years, maybe the fucking asshole actually sees him like that.

"He's calmer than you," Iida says gently, not lifting his gaze from the book he's reading. "I feel like being calm would benefit a relationship for the better. Being a level-head."

Katsuki stares at him, unimpressed. "I can be a damn level-head when I want to."

"He doesn't curse in every sentence." Ojiro shrugs.

"What the fuck- "

"He's less emotionally constipated than you," Kirishima says as he sits next to him, spiky hair down, and that actually leaves Katsuki dumbfounded. Actually speechless. "And that says a lot, bro."

They nod all around him, and Katsuki can't fucking believe it. This is going too far. Has gone too far for too damn long. This shouldn't be included in his path of becoming a Pro Hero. When did all these damn losers become so interested in his love life, or rather become obsessed with denying it?

Not even once did they say that he lied about anything else, in all these years. And they have to know, the assholes, that Katsuki doesn't do lies. He hates them. Loathes it when someone lies to him or to those around him. Why the fuck would he lie about being with someone? And why does he care so much about them thinking he is lying?

Fuck, he just does.

"I have a boyfriend," Katsuki says, leaving the I'm taken behind because, at this point, it makes him sick to even think those words. This time, he says it gruffly, a quiet thing from his throat, resting his forehead on the armrest while his fists clench. There's a surprising silence around him. "I have a fucking boyfriend, alright?"

The silence extends, which weirdly brings an uncomfortable churning in his stomach. Goddamn nerves. He thought he left them behind a long time ago. It seems not.

"What's he like?"

Every head, including Katsuki's, whips around towards Tokoyami, who is calmly sipping tea on one of the single sofas. Even him? What the fuck? But Bird Brain just lowers his steaming cup, lifting a surprisingly elegant eyebrow his way, looking patient.

"What?" Katsuki blinks.

"Your boyfriend," Bird Brain repeats, unaffected. "What is he like?"

The urge to yell It's none of your fucking business is swallowed completely by his shock, and the startling sound Mina lets as she jumps from the other couch.

She looks at him with an unsettling glimmer in her eyes. "I bet you're into cute ones!"

"Nah," Kirishima is grinning like a goddamn all-knowing fool. "Baku likes a challenge, people who don't tolerate bullshit. People who push back. He'd like a fiery one."

"I feel like someone who is his opposite will compliment him well." Iida. Tenya fucking Iida joins the conversation of What's Bakugou's type without even blinking an eye from his bland book. "A calm person, perhaps."

"Bakugou's a softie." Urara offers him the sharpest of grins. "He would fall in love with a sweetheart. I can feel it."

"Someone tall!" 

"Don't think so. He's the type to like someone shorter than him."

"No, no, for sure someone tall. And a pretty face." 

"Of course he'll like a pretty face. Who doesn't like a pretty face?"

"I bet they like to curse as much as him."

The situation took such a turn that he's left the most confused he's been in forever. Really. What the fucking fuck.

"So now you believe it," he says, strangely calm, even though he's really not. He feels like a leaf floating on water; helpless with his movements and the path he's taking.

He lifts himself on his butt, the headache in his temples not as bad as it was. This conversation isn't the most pleasant either, but he'll take it over the whole denying shit.

"Show us pics of him, dude." Kaminari sits down on the sofa with a leg over the other in a boyish way, putting his arm around Kirishima's neck, who's still grinning at him. "You have to have some with him."

Stifling the itching impulse to glare at Icyhot, who is most likely feeling smug in his own Todoroki Shoto way, Katsuki crosses his arms, feeling swiftly awkward. There's this strange pull at his chest that's telling him something is not quite right about what he's about to say.

"I actually don't."

"You don't?" Yaoyorozu comes out from their open kitchen, two mugs of fresh tea in her hands. She looks at him uncertainly. "Really? Not even one? The contact picture?"

Shrugging, Katsuki falls against the backrest, rolling his eyes when they all stare at him, both expectant and reluctant. "Look. I don't, ok? Who the fuck thinks about taking pictures when you're with your significant other?"

Several hands are raised, like they are in goddamn class, and Katsuki decides, once and for all, that he's had enough of this shit. He had tolerated enough, and doesn't need to prove anything.

He flips them the bird and goes to fucking sleep, more grumpy than ever.

Eijiro 11:35 a.m:

bro

where the fck are u. we were supposed to have some manly training today?

Katsuki 11:35 a.m:

fuck off

i'm busy with something else

Eijiro 11:36 a.m:

outside ua?

Katsuki 11:37 a.m:

yea

Eijiro 11:37 a.m:

oooh

wait no way

are u with boyfie

tell him ur bestest friend said hi :D

Katsuki 11:39 a.m:

suck my fucking dick, asshole

Eijiro 11:39 a.m:

ah

i don't think mr boyfriend would like that tho

Katsuki groans, throwing the phone back on the cluttered coffee table, before he buries his face into the nice decorative pillow next to his head. In the past, talking through text was sometimes a more bearable experience than having to face his idiotic friends; now, he is not so sure anymore.

Really, how did he think it was a good idea to give these shits more teasing material? Maybe he really should have kept his mouth shut about this whole ordeal. Just let them think whatever, or even better, let them know nothing at all.

But for some reason, it bothered him to the point of this situation.

It's fucking Sunday. At least Sunday should be a peaceful, relaxing day without him having to think about punching smug little shits in the face or ignoring the curious texts about where he is. Sometimes they sure act more like overbearing mothers instead of friends. Can he really call them friends right now? No, he decides. They are just damn morons at the moment.

"You've been pouting the whole morning."

The voice floats all around him, smooth to the ear and sounding a little curious, maybe bemused, and Katsuki feels his muscles uncoil immediately, sinking into the comfortable sofa with an involuntary sigh.

"I don't pout," he grunts for the sake of it, even though his lips tug into one.

The sofa gives in to another weight, creaking just the tiniest bit, before Katsuki hears that familiar hum of amusement, the one that just slides all over him like sun-hot honey, sweet and overwhelming. A rough hand sneaks under the pant leg of his sweatpants, touching along his shin until it finds the back of his knee and stops there.

Katsuki feels like he's melting. Literally. He parts his legs on instinct, letting the hand trail up towards his thigh; the sweatpants strain with the movement, and the feeling of it has his stomach fluttering like mad.

"Did something happen?" The voice is towering over him, tone light, a little husky; too charming for its own damn good. "You barely spoke a word to me today. It rather seems like you came to make friends with my couch, not to see me."

"Nothing," he mumbles. He doesn't feel like explaining the shit that's going on in UA. It's the weekend. Really, he just wants to take a good nap on his boyfriend's expensive couch.

The hand stops again, squeezing his inner thigh before Katsuki feels it, the force of a tug that has him gasping, breathless. He slides over the couch, shirt riling up from the friction with the leather, and looks up to see the subject of all the discussions that gave him nothing but headaches this past week.

Izuku parts his legs even more, taking his hand out of Katsuki's pantleg to lean over him. He is raising that goddamn left eyebrow, all questioning and entertained, while staring at him with sharp, green eyes.

And Katsuki shouldn't find this so damn hot. Should be annoyed at Izuku's habit of just manhandling him all over the place whenever he feels like it, just because he can. But he isn't. He isn't annoyed and a blush sits at the top of his cheeks, bright pink and noticeable.

His boyfriend smiles down at him, endeared, and fuck him for that. For being so pretty with his freckled cheeks and the forest green of his curly hair. 

Katsuki traps Izuku’s torso in between his legs, huffing. "What?"

"Who made you sulk like this?" Izuku lowers himself on his elbows, nuzzling the tip of his nose along Katsuki's warm cheek, over his nose, his lips, before leaving a gentle kiss on them; no more than a simple peck that has the blond craving more. "Don't get me wrong, you're adorable-"

Katsuki doesn't let him finish. Catching freckled cheeks between his palms to keep him still, he lifts his head a little to leave tiny, hurried pecks on Izuku's lips, petulantly ignoring the knowing smile that curves there. Izuku lets him, of course, responding occasionally with soft, pleased hums that send hazy vibrations throughout his whole body.

This is how his weekend should go; with Izuku's warm weight between his legs, those soft lips sliding against his with no effort whatsoever, and his minty scent all around Katsuki until he feels stupidly drunk on it. 

“You’re trying to distract me,” Izuku mumbles, lips slick and warm as they move over Katsuki’s without parting much even for a second. He leans forward more, crushing their noses together as he takes Katsuki’s lower lip between his teeth and bites without mercy, sending a tingle through his whole body. “It’s not going to work.”

Katsuki groans, letting his head fall back against the pillow, mindful of the scarred hand fisting at the strands of blond hair at his nape. It stings just a little bit, which might not be enough to have him trembling properly, like Izuku’s habit of tugging sharply does, but his belly is warm, fluttery.  

He lowers his lashes into a sleepy look, trying to will away any searing heat of temptation, because if Izuku wanted to fuck today, he would have already made a move towards it, before he began cooking. Now the whole smell of chicken traveling through the apartment is a tad unsuitable for any sort of sexual matters.

Letting his hand map under Izuku’s shirt in a thoughtful manner, he trails the tips of his fingers over flexing abs, making a throaty sound. “Answer something for me. What do you think of receiving confessions?”

Izuku tilts his head, blinking at him with round eyes that don’t fit with the whole, red-bruised mouth situation, or the tight hold he has of Katsuki’s hip, his hair. “Receiving confessions? Mine, or as a general idea?”

Thinking it over, Katsuki finally mutters, “Mine.”

“Yours,” the green-haired man repeats slowly, keen gaze latching onto his face with assessment sharpened within a second. It has such an influence on him, having Izuku so avidly observing him. They always have, those green eyes. “Having problems with some admirers, Kacchan?”

It’s said in the most impish way, with no distaste or disquiet present; Izuku’s smooth voice curls around the words like they’re a delight to mutter. He would have snorted, or pushed Izuku with his feet towards the other end of the couch with a scoff and a loud, foul-mouthed redirect of conversation, perhaps a denial, because this isn’t the type of conversation he wants to have with Izuku. It isn’t the type of thing they do. Izuku might have his moments of jealousy, as does Katsuki, but it isn’t a problem for them. It’s not over the edge, it’s not insistent. And flimsy confessions sure as fuck aren’t something they will have a word over. 

But there’s this frustration boiling underneath his skin, itching to the point of nothing else being able to distract him, not even Izuku Midoriya. And he doesn’t like it, because being distracted by Izuku and his mushiness, his mouth, his touch, his love is something that Katsuki has learned to accept and cherish. Being able to love Izuku is something he looks forward to in the few moments they spend together these days.

So he decides that his boyfriend, the one that has this teasing, amused smile on his lips, is going to help him and end this shit once and for all. 

There is no need for plentiful explanations, but he indulges in a huff, and narrows his eyes with resolution, “It’s annoying as fuck. You get that, right?”

Izuku’s thumb is drawing dainty lines all over the contour of his pelvic bone, makes the skin there so sensitive. “I’m sure it’s harmless, though. You’re bound to have some people fawning over you.”

“No,” he says, stubborn even if he doesn’t know for what , exactly. Choosing to ignore Izuku’s growing smile of entertainment, he catches freckled cheeks between his palms yet again, mumbling, “Give me a shit tone of hickeys. Right now.”

The snort Izuku lets out would have been offensive, if it wasn’t puffed against Katsuki’s lips. The green-haired man plants a cute peck on them right after, humming in faux thought. “And when Aizawa sees them and gives you one headache of a detention and gives me a lecture about it when he sees me, what will we do?”

“Like I give a fuck. Bite me.”

Izuku’s laughing face always begins with a flush that sits prettily on the high of his cheeks, skin glowing like glee. The sound he lets out through his throat is muted, but Katsuki squints at him provokingly anyway, baring his pale throat with a pointed gesture of his head that has his boyfriend staring down at it swiftly. 

He doesn’t respond for a while, stare growing so heavy that Katsuki has to stop himself from squirming like a goddamn virgin under him. Izuku has always had a way with his expression, and it’s truthfully maddening, as is addicting, to not know what he’s thinking, to see him so nonchalant as he trails that effervescent gaze all over Katsuki with the slowness of a patient man that knows more than he lets on.

He should have seen it coming, because Izuku is a goddamn little shit.

The moment a hot mouth closes over his nipple and bites, his back arches completely off the couch, mouth parted in a breathy gasp that has Izuku grinning against the damp shirt. Katsuki fists at his curly strands with a weak grit of his teeth, keeping his curse stuck in his throat when he feels a rough hand lift his shirt slowly, playfully, until his heaving chest is out in the open. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he groans softly, shivering all over when Izuku blows cold air on his nipples, making them perk up more than they already were. 

“You asked me to bite,” Izuku hums, before giving each nipple a small kiss that has Katsuki’s cock twitching, growing heavy. “I’m doing it, Kacchan.”

Right as it’s said, he leans down and takes one into his mouth, sucking it gently, while he plays with the other one, thumb sliding over it roughly until Katsuki gives into a hushed whine. His chest aches, even after so little teasing, but that’s exactly why Izuku does it, he bets. Because he knows just how sensitive Katsuki is when it comes to his chest. How many times he took advantage of it, in how many ways he made the blond come just from teasing until it was raw and red, bruised with bite marks. 

Katsuki exhales with a tremble, peeking under his lashes only to meet Izuku’s amused stare as he bites softly at the other nipple, before taking it into his mouth to suck hard. The blond twitches, wrapping his legs around Izuku’s waist, and moans when the asshole grinds down on his erection with a fluid movement-

The smell of burnt chicken bursts him out of his hazy bubble, making his nose wrinkle, but before he can even say a word about it, slight electricity crackles against his sensitive skin as Izuku dives off the couch in a panic, cursing roughly when he realizes the mistake of letting the stove unsupervised. Katsuki lets himself fall completely against the couch with an amused smirk, lowering his creased shirt with a cathartic sigh. 

There’s a thump, then a grumble, followed by, “I think we’re going to have to depend on takeout tonight. Can you call a restaurant?”

Yea, alright, this is a pretty peaceful Sunday, after all. Katsuki stretches towards the coffee table for his phone with a short laugh, already prepared to kiss the gloom off Izuku’s pretty face. 

There's a certain amount of surprise and satisfaction when he realizes that no one has been teasing or asking him about his relationship for two weeks now. Maybe it's because their last year truly began, piling homework and training regimes over their heads in a way that didn't even leave weekends open for them to enjoy some sort of freedom.

Katsuki has no complaint about it. This should have been last year; they had enough freedom for a lifetime last year.

And really, this is why he wished for U.A., so he can grow to be the best, work himself to the bone. Nothing is hard when you long for it. When you truly want it. Kirishima may whine about the ache of his body after a long day, but Katsuki sees the excited glint in those red eyes, same as his, just glowing with every minute spent getting results.

They were so close to their dreams, to a full-fledged Pro Hero career. Getting to the top.

The top, where Izuku has been for a few years now. These weeks they haven't seen each other at all because of course, for a Hero like Deku, long-lasting missions were something usual. Katsuki should have seen it coming; the inevitable crash from seeing each other almost every week to nothing more than a few texts and throaty phone calls that make him squirm in his bed with annoyingly pure yearning. But they can't do shit about it. Between Katsuki and his schoolwork and Izuku and his duty to the world, they really can do nothing.

And it's fine. It's fine. He learned not long ago that it's ok to miss someone as much as he misses his damn boyfriend. And it's fine to keep it to himself because even though he doesn't say it when Izuku mutters soft I miss you's through the phone like the true sweetheart he is, Katsuki knows that Izuku knows. He knows.

So these weeks are good ones. No teasing, no interrogations. He is at the top of his class, he is working hard and avoiding all sorts of confessions because of the amazingly busy schedule, and Izuku spamming him with all sorts of pictures and voice messages do wonders to his stupid yearning.

So it's all fine.

Until it's not.

Of fucking course it doesn't last. When has something good ever lasted when it comes to his life? He hopes some things, some people will last, but that is another thing for another time. Right now, Katsuki just really wants to question his decisions and choices when it comes to friends. Again.

"You can't tell me Pro Hero Delirium isn't hot. Fuck off."

Someone groans from the other coach, and Katsuki feels the frustration of it in his own chest, vibrating like the throbbing of his bones. He doesn't shift his half-lidded gaze from the TV screen, despite not hearing a thing from the lady that is presenting the news with fervour. Something about a building collapsing, Delirium, and some other faceless Pro Hero.

Mina scoffs from beside him, legs thrown over the backrest and head upside down. He feels her feet wiggling close to his head, and it’s annoying. "He is hot, but he's kinda sloppy. And overconfident. He does too much. I swear, the news showed him all week."

"Nothing you just said made sense," Ochako mutters, speaking as if one of her cheeks was smashed against something. Probably against an armrest of the sofa, he concludes absently. "Is he sloppy or does he do too much? Which one?"

Mina doesn't respond, and when he thinks that there's finally some peace and quiet, Invisible chick speaks out of nowhere, as usual.

"I think Pro Hero Stareye is the hottest hero of their generation. And he's really efficient as well."

"Debatable," Mina whispers in his direction. Katsuki grunts uselessly in response.

He doesn't get how they can still find energy in themselves to talk about this when it's almost midnight. If he wasn't so hungry, he would have said fuck it all and went to bed before they even opened this box of stupidity right in front of him, but sadly dinner is still not fucking ready and he's stuck.

"He certainly loves the camera," Kaminari says from his spot on the floor, expression dull with exhaustion.

Delirium's stupid masked face appears on TV, white teeth showing in a smile as he answers all the dumb questions of the press with that entertained tilt in his voice; something to show just how much enjoyment exists in a job that's supposed to be treated as serious as the lives you have in the palms of your hands. There's something shallow in those silver eyes of his, and Katsuki just- doesn't like this dude.

He's hot, sure, he's powerful, sure. He has the charm, you could say. But he doesn't have the spark that many great and true heroes have. He doesn't have the glint of winning in his gaze, he doesn't have the conviction set over the tense line of his broad shoulders. He's just... there.

Just there.

"He's not gonna last."

He doesn't know what enchants him to say it when the majority of the evening no one succeeded in getting more than grunts out of him. But the sight of this supposed hero getting the attention yet another night, perhaps the fifth in a row, where usually there would be a distinctive number of deeds and different Pro Heroes being seen on the screens all around the world, is boiling the words past his cracked lips, like mute resentment he doesn't actually feel.

"You're right. He is careless," Iida mutters, brows creasing and gaze frighteningly knowing. A shade of a memory, a piece of the past he is reliving in his head. "That won't get him too far."

Delirium lets out a pleasing laugh at the right time, through the right words and a nice, spot-on expression of charm, and something in Katsuki's chest cracks like a thick window.

"Wasn't talking about that."

“Huh?" Kaminari says, looking utterly lost.

Katuski turns towards them, detects the queries floating in the air and the sourness on his tongue feels a little bit more stupid because they are all so bone-tired and yet he feels the urge to just -

Suddenly, exhaustion doesn't thunder at the marrow of his bones, not like the quality of being offended does. The shadows of his own past loom all over the dark corners, the golden flutter of All Might's cape, the grittiness of Crimson Riot, the realness of everything that a Hero was in those days, what it actually is right now. "What the fuck is a hero? Huh?"

A broad silence falls over them for a few seconds, moments in which they gape at his provocation until Iida finds his endless wit to adjust his glasses and parrot:

"A person who saves people, who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities-"

Ochako groans, a little bit exasperated, but more so endeared. "I don't he's asking about the textbook definition, Iida-kun."

"Where is this going?" Mina sounds tired, even through her unsurprising curiosity.

The armrest to his right shifts with an invisible weight, and Katsuki realizes swiftly that Hagakure is actually really close and not on the other end of the sofa, where she originally was sitting when he collapsed on it half an hour ago. Eerily enough, he can actually sense her gaze on him, watching with interest.

"He may have become one legally," Katsuki spits out, not paying attention to Iida's sputter at being interrupted so rudely. "But Delirium is no fucking hero."

Kaminari's slim brows wrinkle with effort. "But-"

"Why do you think he is so fucking adored by the press and media?" Bakugo turns his scowl towards him, because suddenly making Kaminari Denki understand completely why Delirium is nothing more than just there is his first priority as a human being. "He doesn't have a flashy quirk that stirs some sort of amazement, so that's why he relies on his saves, making them bold enough to attract the attention, but not bold enough to show that it matters. "

"He plays that game," Mina gasps, twisting around to sit on her knees beside him, everything forgotten in the face of revelation. The golden of her eyes glows creepily with a sick essence of excitement. "Fuck, of course. It's obvious."

"That... Game?" Ochako lifts her head, hazel eyes blank. "What?"

"This is too complicated," Kaminari mutters, leaning against the coffee table like an overcooked noodle. "I'm too tired for games, guys."

Katsuki snorts in exasperation. "You fucking idiot, in a few months you're gonna be a Pro Hero yourself. You better fucking learn how things work if you want to make it on the Top 10 in the Hero Billboard Charts."

"But what does a game have to do with-"

"They are not talking about a certain game, Kaminari-san," Iida intervenes, surprisingly soft. His tone is almost soothing, something completely distinct from his usual firm corrections. "Mina-san just implied that Pro Hero Delirium is using his profession more so for publicity, and not because he wants to be a Hero, which may I add, is a really presumptuous assumption -"

"How many times did Derilium deny the media, huh? How many times have you seen him battered enough to not be able to answer their shitty questions like his life depends on it?" Katsuki leans towards Iida's direction, bringing one knee to his chest so he can squeeze his ankle, frustration coiling at his twitchy fingers. They are warm with sugary sweat. "He and his agency know what the fuck they are doing. All his saves are safe for him in that regard, because he knows what to take as his rescue and what to leave to others, because he knows that the more attention he gives them, the sweeter the smiles, the more they will eat out of the palm of his fucking hand."

"I..." Iida frowns, lips twisting as he takes in the words offered to him in a rather aggressive tone, but that's just how Katsuki is when he gets really into it, and they are all enough familiar with it by now to be able to just listen and understand. "I guess you are right in some aspects, but also a good reputation is important for a Pro Hero. Public Approval is one of the factors that get you on top in the Hero Billboard Charts, after all."

"What Bakugo is trying to say is that Delirium wouldn't be someone to trust in a really serious situation, because he plays it safe," Mina says, a crinkle sitting at the bridge of her nose. "You could say that he's doing that because he's still a rookie, but if you look closely you can see that many of his generation have already evolved while he's still at base ground level. "

"Playing the game," Ochako breathes, looking at the smiling Pro Hero on the screen in a new light. " Of course. It may look like he's hesitant to do more, but that's why he’s in the field daily, to cover the fact that he has no interest in getting out of his comfort zone."

"That seems rather... shallow," Invisible chick mumbles. She doesn't sound as chirp as she was when they first began talking about the Pro Heroes of this generation.

"It is." Mina yawns, stretching like a cat. "But that's the game all about. People who become Heroes for the sake of fame, or another shallow motive. Shit like that."

"He will secure his spot in the Top 20 by the end of this year, because that's how fucking much PR matters," Bakugo mutters, something sour settling at the tip of his tongue. "And I fucking bet he will be able to keep it for two or three years before his methods become stale and some other fucker takes his place."

Kaminari groans, "What the fuck."

"That's how it works," Ochako sighs, expression crumbling in frustration. "Well, I guess that will be our life in a few months. People like that are going to be our co-workers."

“But not everyone is like that, right?” Hagakure asks softly. “There are true Pro Heroes out there.”

“Of course,” Iida nods, expression set with a conviction of steel. “There is no dispute in that. We should not forget about the Pro Heroes that would gladly give their lives to save people in need, and we should be grateful to be able to work with them one day.”

There are a few grunts of acknowledgment and Katsuki joins for the sake of doing it. It’s true. Of course, Glasses is right; there are some awesome people out there who would do everything in their power to save, fight, win, be a hero, but with so many fakes fogging all the attention, it’s getting hard to look at things in a positive way. 

A moment of silence washes over them as the news go on, Delirium’s face still leering at them all, words sounding like a well-practiced song. Katsuki closes his eyes after another minute of that perfect fucking smile, feeling his thighs and arms strain with tension. God, he wants to sleep.

“Pro Hero Deku just came back from America after helping with the infamous Shatter Ruin case in New York-”

Katsuki startles, sleepiness evaporating alarmingly fast. He feels his spine straighten, eyes opening wide in time to see a very familiar face fixing an exhausted but hard stare on all of them. Izuku is still wearing his Pro Hero costume, mask never really over his face. His dark hair is tousled like he can’t care enough to look new and shiny on TV, the corner of his lips red with blood, and that alone makes Katsuki’s heart beat faster. 

“I don’t have anything else to say that I didn’t to the press in America,” Izuku says, voice steady despite the little side-glance he offers the news girl, who is sharp enough to stay at a decent distance from the Pro Hero, hesitation all over her wide smile. “If you want to find out more, I’m sure my agency will be glad to announce a private interview.”

Before anyone else can utter another word, Izuku offers a small nod towards the camera, and simply walks away, steps assured and shoulders straight. The muscles of his back flex with every movement, and Katsuki can’t help it. He groans, loud and unabashed, and completely inappropriate. He slumps against the couch and stares straight ahead, ignoring the gawks he’s getting from his friends all around him.

“Did you just…” Kaminari looks baffled. “Did you just moan because of Pro Hero Deku?”

That prompts, almost immediately, a huge sputter out of Iida, who is hurriedly cleaning his glasses, blush growing on his offended face. 

“Shut it,” Katsuki mutters, closing his eyes as a trickle of regret travels through him, but Mina is already buzzing next to him, staring like she can extract more from him with those golden, haunting eyes of hers. 

“Well,” Ochako mumbles, still blinking at him. “He is hot. Um, and-”

“Our current freaking Symbol of Peace! And so hot, you’re right Ochako-chan. It’s okay, Bakugo-kun, you actually have taste-”

Katsuki turns his face in the direction he thinks he hears the voice coming from and musters one of his biggest glares toward Hagakure. He doesn’t need to know he actually has taste when he’s actually dating the fucking guy. Not that they would know that. Not that they need to. His head is buzzing with the sudden urge to just call Izuku and stay with him on the phone, tease the shit out of him for being so edge-cut on TV, hear his groggy voice comment about annoying press and then about the exhaustion dripping from his bones. But no, instead he decided he needed to eat at fuck o’clock, let his own tiredness get the better of him, and now he has several shocked and swiftly delighted eyes on him, drinking everything just because his stupid ass reacted to his boyfriend so viscerally.

“I can’t believe you actually like another Hero that is not All Might, holy crap. Wait ‘till Kiri hears about this.” Kaminari’s weariness melts off him like his intelligence when he goes nuts on his quirk, and Katsuki doesn’t know whether to blow his ass up, or blow his own ass up. “No, wait, I’m still not over this. You fucking moaned -”

“Pro Hero Deku and All Might are a lot similar in several aspects,” Iida clears his throat with some effort, looking like he doesn’t want to go where Kaminari is heading, either. Katsuki almost thanks him, before the asshole continues. “But I got to admit, Bakugou-san, it is shocking to see you so… loud over another Hero that is not tethered to your childhood, or the majority’s choice of favorite-”

“ Guys. ” Mina’s voice, while accentuated, feels like a laugh on its own. “He looks ready to explode on all of us. I think we should let it go.”

There’s a lengthy pause, but Katsuki doesn’t even bother to close his eyes and let his limbs relax, because Mina and Kaminaru burst a lung together laughing soon after. He knows these assholes. Their line of thinking. Especially since they so love to fuck with him at every opportunity that presents itself. He doesn’t even think twice about getting up from the couch with the blandest of expressions.

“No, Bakugo, don’t leave . I need to know more! Tell me what got that sound out of you! His muscles? Voice? He has a nice voice. And a heavenly back. That costume does him justice. Wait, I think I have some pictures in my phone from that shitty magazine that caught him buying some groceries in only a tank top and some shorts- Wait, Bakugo-”

Mina reaches after him using the whole length of the couch, but Katsuki continues to walk away even after she tugs at his sweatpants so hard that they ride low on his ass. Not even a word out of him. Not even a fuck, and damn it , he knows why. He knows that the burning feeling at the base of his neck, over his ears and cheeks has everything to do with the slight mortification he feels. Has to do with the fact that now his friends know this little detail about him, and they won’t forget any time soon. The period of no-teasing is out the fucking door, and now they have a name to attach to it, without even knowing the whole thing. Because yes, he likes Pro Hero Deku, but fuck he loves Midoryia Izuku, and they’re the same person through and through.

The kitchen is full of other blabbering idiots, but at least these ones are doing it over the food that’s being cooked. So Katsuki goes straight towards the sink, mulling over the thought of going to bed with a growling stomach as he’s getting himself a glass of water. His palms are unusually hot, but it’s not from exploding sweat, and his nose betrays him by sensing the tasty smell of whatever Yaoyorozu has sizzling in three different pans.

“Does your boyfriend know about your appreciation for Pro Hero Deku?” Mineta’s shitty voice stops everything going around in his mind, and all the other noises from around them. 

Katsuki slowly closes the water tap, exhaling through his nostrils carefully, before looking at all the faces that are actually trying to avoid his gaze. “You fucking heard, huh?”

Mineta doesn’t even know how to cook, yet he’s sitting on the kitchen counter next to Yaoyorozu like it’s a sit of royalty, grinning at Katsuki like the little fiend he fucking is, and will always be. “Denki’s voice traveled all over the dorm, dude. I think even Jiro heard it over all her instrument playing-”

Sero makes quick work of slapping his hand over Mineta’s mouth, smile going nervous just as Katsuki’s face goes from vacant to thoroughly frightening in a second. “Bro, it’s alright! We all have our soft spots for some Heroes-”

“I personally enjoy Pro Hero Mirko’s work a lot!” Yaoyorozu’s hair seems to be bouncing with her whole jittery body, just as her face becomes swiftly red. She swishes a fork in the air like she doesn’t find the right words. “And, um, uh, her thighs-”

Out of shock, Katsuki lets out a groan. He doesn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. Ever. “For fuck’s sake-”

“I’m just-!” Yaoyorozu exhales for a second, all trembly, before smiling uncertainly in Katsuki’s direction. “Just trying to tell you that it’s normal. And… and your boyfriend doesn’t have the right to say anything, because I’m sure he has some Pro Hero he fawns over, as well.”

He fawns over almost fucking everyone, the thought seeps into his mind pretty easily, but Katsuki only lets out the weakest of grunts, not even able to think about what to say to all that. He didn’t think he’d ever get to the point where his friend will try to assure him about his boyfriend being okay with Katsuki thirsting over, well, his fucking boyfriend. It’s almost as funny as it’s ridiculous. Even sleep is going away from him with all this shit happening. He nearly lets out a laugh out of sheer stupidity.

“I think Pro Hero Deku is attractive as well.”

Time stops, just like Yaoyorozu’s awkward but well-intended ramble, and they all direct their wide gazes over Todoroki’s casual stance against the kitchen island. Katsuki almost feels like he didn’t hear correctly, but then Todoroki takes a sip of his tea, before raising an eyebrow at him. 

“His hands are particularly hot,” the fucker goes on, and now Katsuki knows for sure that those words are really getting out of him as calmly as basically everything he does. “Scarred. They look nice. Strong. I think you know what I’m saying-”

Before he knows it, a growl rips out of him with minimal effort. He recognizes the buzzing in his chest as what it is, and perhaps the exhaustion around his muscles are what helps it grow. Suddenly, he’s in front of Todoroki, digging the spilling glass of water into his chest as he glares fiercely, meeting controlled, mismatched eyes.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to shove your hands so far up your ass you’re gonna feel them in that fucking mouth of yours,” he says it so lowly, so chaotic, he almost fears for his own vocal cords for a second. The hand around his glass brightens so hard, it makes the water inside it bubble furiously. “Got it?”

Their friends are gaping all around him, but Katsuki only has tolerance for the way Todoroki calmly raises his hands above his head in mock surrender, smiling a smile he can’t even decipher through the fog of aggression he’s surrounding himself with at the moment.  

Todoroki hums in what seems to be agreement, but Katsuki already grunts with a yank of his body, feeling completely out of it, completely done with it, completely fucked over. Hunger is but a foreign feeling, replaced by the itchiness he calls discomfort. He gets out of the stuffy room with nothing more than a slam of his glass on the kitchen counter. Not even the assholes in the common room let out a word, and Katsuki has a feeling they heard everything as well, because in this fucking household nothing is unheard or ignored. He doesn’t even waste time glancing at them so he can confirm. He just goes up to his room with the ferocity of a clumsy, hurried man.

That night's sleep takes him not out of necessity for his sore body, or anything of the sort, but because Katsuki is stubborn enough to declare this day over, and ready to get himself into even more training the next day, without any annoying people around him. 

But when he wakes up at five o’clock, he can’t help the harsh slap he plants all over his face, stomach clenching powerfully as he goes over all the stuff that went down last night. 

And one thing he involuntary learned throughout four years of knowing that emotionally unavailable fucknut, is that Shouto Todoroki only smiles when he gets something satisfying out of the situation. 

Katsuki takes a towel out of his closet and yanks his dorm door open.

“You fucking know, don’t you?”

Another bland hum, “Good morning, Bakugo. Know what?”

“Don’t play this game with me, Icyhot,” Katsuki hisses, slapping his hand on the closest surface he can grasp at. “Just say it. I know you fucking know. Save me the time.”

A small pause. “You’re dating Pro Hero Deku.”

The phrase comes with the shock of hearing someone else acknowledge it, after almost a year of no one but Best Jeanist and his old folks knowing, on his part. Katsuki has half a mind to relentlessly deny it as soon as it’s in the air, out of habit’s sake of thinking that he should, but he takes one look at Todoroki’s calm gaze, and he just deflates instantly. 

“How?” He croaks out, meeker than he intended to. Todoroki doesn’t comment on it.

He just shrugs. “I had some suspicions of this being the case. Last night just confirmed it.”

“Suspicions?” He can’t help the snort, resting against the wall beside his right. Lips curve up, ironically. “Fucking really, now? You thought about it, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Todoroki’s nod is as ridiculous as is spluttering-worthy, but Katsuki succeeds in only narrowing his red gaze at him, urging a continuation. “It was one of the most plausible reasons for you to be so closed off about it. Having a lover who’s a Pro Hero. Him being the Symbol of Peace makes even more sense.”

“Makes sense,” Katsuki repeats, like a broken record stuck on the weirdest part, before he thinks about it all more. “And didn’t you fucking think for a second that maybe I’m closed off because it’s none of y’all fucking business, huh?”

“You care too much for it to be like that.” The casual way he says it doesn’t match the soft curl of his lips, and Katsuki can’t stop staring at him like Todoroki just froze him, whole and vulnerable. “First I thought that maybe… maybe you’re in an abusive relationship-”

The aggressive splutter he lets out is stopped by Todoroki just nonchalantly going on.

“All the signs that you were giving kind of led me to that kind of thinking. You repeating over and over that you have someone, but never really elaborating more to make them truly believe it. You not having one single picture with him, even though we all know you do like to take some now and then. And why wouldn’t you have some with your significant other? You put too much soul into everything you do, a relationship should not be any different. I thought that maybe you were in a tough situation, but you were too uncertain as to talk about it, to face it-”

“When will I ever,” Katsuki begins, and feels the words sticking to his throat like they’re the hardest thing to spit out with venom. They are. His voice cracks like it’s been yanked open and exposed. “When will I fucking ever let someone put me in a toxic relationship for even a second?”

“That’s the conclusion I got to after a few days.” Todoroki’s response is given with a piercing look that almost gets Katsuki breathless. “Because if I know something, Bakugo, is that you don’t hesitate about giving people the treatment you think they deserve. Even if you like them in some way. So after all, it didn’t make sense. The second natural guess was that you’re in a relationship with someone who has enough enemies to worry about. A Pro Hero. The fact that it’s Deku just clicked everything into place. You’re a hard man to impress. It just made sense that the one who gets you interested is our current Symbol of Peace.”

“What the fuck,” Katsuki says slowly, almost in disbelief. Is this what this fucker does when he’s in his head for half a day? Dissecting the situations his classmates have going on? “What-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I recognize the situation as it is.” A drop of sweat slides off his temple, going along his jawline. “But I just want to say… Our friends wouldn’t either. Never.”

Deciding not to open up that can of worms, Katsuki just wrinkles his nose, snorting. “I’m not worried about anything, fuckface.”

“Right.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Katsuki grits out, one hand already clawing with anger. 

“We’re in the bathroom,” Todoroki deadpans, looking at Katsuki with a blink. “I’m completely naked, the shower has been going on for half an hour. You just barged in here-”

“Fuck, okay, go take your fucking shower,” he groans out, rubbing at his eyes when the dumbassery of the situation really hits him. Now he’s in the middle of it, and it’s acknowledged, his only thought is that he can’t fucking believe that Todoroki’s pubic hair is double-colored as well. Fuck, no, that’s just vile for his entire existence. “I apologize for invading your privacy, or what-fucking-ever.”

Todoroki has the audacity to snort like Katsuki has said the best joke in all four years of their bizarre friendship. 

Maybe he has. 

Nothing really changes, honestly, aside from the weird and rare times when Todoroki shoves his phone under Katsuki’s nose to show him a cute or funny headline that contains Izuku in it. It’s a weirdly adorable gesture, and he won’t admit it for the love of him, but it had made Katsuki grin more than he should have. Even the other fuckheads don’t make a single comment about his slip in front of them, which is suspicious, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

So they don’t talk about it, don’t ever let it float into the air again, and he’s grateful, he’s almost too relieved. Not that he really worried about Todoroki spewing anything out to anyone, but alas, some concerns did raise in him, even if it was just out of unfamiliarity. 

Because now someone else knows, and Katsuki is aware of how the chain goes, he knows how it can break ever so easily just from the heaviness of the number of people knowing. The chain’s a fragile thing. This is why he’s just so comfortable with his relationship being a thing only four people know - well, now five. The more people know, the easier it is to be found out. It’s not out of betrayal, it’s just how it goes.  

In this world, nothing stays uncovered, especially for the people putting their lives on the line to protect it. And Pro Hero Deku is at the top of it, he’s a symbol for it. If there’s ever someone the world wants to expose to be bone, it’s Izuku Midoriya. That’s why he has people guarding his mother 24/7, that’s why his house changes locations with the help of a rare, special-based quirk paid to do so. That’s why he can’t afford to really take Katsuki on dates, outside of the careful privacy of his home, and their extra-protected phone calls and text chats, or buy something as incriminating as flowers without doing some overly complicated paperwork at his agency. They’ve never been seen outside together, save from the unusual beginning of their relationship. 

Sometimes, he thinks about the future, about what it will be or how this whole shitshow will develop. Especially since he’s on his path to becoming a Pro Hero himself. Will it be more difficult? Will it not be enough anymore? He knows. He’s not fucking stupid, he’s not as afraid of it as to not admit that a relationship needs to grow, and will need even more. He already feels it, in the way his chest grows heavy when he sees people holding hands on the streets, the openly way some can show emotions, can show love, and not think twice about its consequences. 

He thinks Izuku craves more, for sure. Thinks about the way their kisses and touches have limitations, even if he’s being kissed and touched like the world has no edges. Sometimes, he thinks he truly wants to just announce to the world that his boyfriend has a name, and one that gives chills on the spines of many scums of the earth. Because he’s proud, because he’s in love, for fuck’s sake. His love deserves to exist just like any other.

But then he thinks about the hardships of Izuku’s life. How carefully he lives it at the scrutiny of the souls he vowed to protect and defeat, and Katsuki thinks his pride and love can be quiet as well, as long as he can make it so much easier. He knew from the beginning what he signed up for. Even if he sometimes wants Izuku to just sneak into his dorm so they can spend time together when he’s not able to leave U.A. Even if he wants, shockingly, to be able to talk to his closest friends about it, openly, without any ambiguity. 

Even if he wants, unabashedly and loud, so loud that sometimes it spills out of him without any warning.

Like tonight. 

The edges are blurry. That should be the first alarm going off in his head, but of course, everything is muted. Alcohol has this type of power. Leaning his head against the couch, he grasps harder at his cup of whatever the fuck Kirishima poured into it, swallowing at the aftertaste in his mouth. His eyes need an extra blink every once in a while, and there’s a pounding in his temples that annoys him, pulsing with every giggle and nonsense his friends blabber all around him.

“Alright, alright!” Sero gasps out between laughs, clutching at his stomach. “You need to fucking stop, Denki! Too much information, man!”

“You ask’d!” Kaminari slurs out, before he falls face-first into Jiro’s shoulder with a snort. Out of all of them, of course alcohol takes over the dumbass the most. He’s completely shit-faced.

“This truth or dare transformed into a nightmare,” Mineta mutters out darkly, splayed out on the floor like a sea star. “I will never be able to get the image of Kaminari’s chocolate-covered asshole out of my head.”

“It was your idea, dumbass,” Kirishima says, tilting his head with a mean grin. His drunkenness is something aggressive, and Katsuki can say he’s almost impressed at some of the things his best friend dares to say when he’s intoxicated. “So shut the fuck up and take it like a big boy.”

“The girls are barely playing! I wanted to find out about their assholes, not yours!” Mineta wails, of course, and promptly gets kicked in the nuts by a giggly Mina. 

“We’re playing ,” Ochako mumbles out, a sort of forceful attitude attached to her as well now that she’s seven cups into Aoyama’s weird yet fancy concoction of a punch. “We’re just not shameless perverts. Be careful what you dare me, Minoru Mineta. I can make you float into non-existence.”

Katsuki can’t stop the snort from getting out, or the grin at the corners of his mouth when Ochako dares to give him a playful shove. He likes this side of her, honestly. It reminds him of their early fight in their first year. The day she reached into his chest with fierce stubbornness and yanked respect out of it. 

“You all need to go to bed!” Is heard from somewhere above, and Katsuki lifts his gaze, only to blink at Iida’s jittery movement of hand right over the backrest of the couch. “Tomorrow may be Sunday, but Aizawa-sensei announced we may receive authorization to visit Ketsubutsu’s Academy special training grounds in only a few days. We need to be prepared, our bodies need-”

“Here,” Ojiro shoves a cup full of pink liquid into his hands, patting his sputtering friend on his back. “Try it, Iida. It’s mind-blowingly good. I bet you never tasted something like it.”

“I choose dare!” Hagakure yells right over Iida’s incredulous protest, and Katsuki squints in a failing attempt to find her. “Dare! Mina, c’mon, stop playing with Kirishima-kun’s hair. I choose dare.”

Mina laughs, says something that goes over Katsuki’s buzzing head before the whole room explodes with laughter and challenging ooh’s. Minutes pass where he thinks Invisible Chick tried to make most of her dare, but like fuck if he understood anything of it.

“Alright, all right, fuck.” Sero rubs a quick hand over his face, before his sharp eyes land on an amusingly calm blond. “Bakugo. Truth or dare?”

“Fuck off,” is all Katsuki says, low and growled, and of course his shitty friends groan in misery. He wrinkles his nose. “I told you I’m only here for booze. Play your kiddy game and leave me in fucking peace.”

“Nothing is kiddy about this game,” Yaoyorozu mutters from where she’s curled in one of the love seats, a cup of steaming tea in her hands and a fluffy blanket over her shoulders. Her obviously sober eyes glint, and he doesn’t like it one fucking bit. “I really think you should just give in to them, Bakugo-san. It’s the tenth time they asked you, and I think they have no intention of stopping anytime soon.”

“ Broo,” Kaminari drapes himself over his lap so suddenly, Katsuki almost explodes his dumb face off. He glares down at someone who clearly doesn’t recognize danger anymore. “C’mon, truth or dare. ‘t least once. C’mon. ”

There’s a chorus of c’mons that join in, and when Katsuki receives yet another shove, this time from Mina’s stupidly powerful leg, he lets out a tsk and crushes the almost empty cup in his hand, exhaling loudly.

“Fuck, okay. Truth, you fucking dipshits. Be careful what you ask for-”

“Aw, c’mon. Not fun, Bakugo!”

“Shh! He’s at least playing-”

Kirishima is almost buzzing out of his seat between Mina’s legs. “Sero, bro, let me ask him something I’ve been wanting to know since first yea-!”

“I dare you to call your boyfriend right now and ask him what he thinks about you wanting to fuck Pro Hero Deku. On speaker.”

Time seems to stop along with everyone’s movements. No one is breathing, he can tell. Even Kaminari feels like he just became a statue over his thighs, looking up at Katsuki with such wide eyes they’re almost popping out. Katsuki, on the other hand, glances right at Mineta’s provoking, smug expression, studying his proud posture with numb serenity. Nothing comes out of anyone, Yaoyorozu even seems to be holding out from choking on the gulp of tea she was just taking, before it all goes out like a supernova and Kirishima is slapping the little shit upside the head with a panicked expression. 

“He said truth. Truth,” the redhead spits out, shark teeth glinting in the dim light of the common room. “That’s nowhere near a fucking question, you fucknut-”

Strangely enough, something warm and fluttery bubbles in his tummy, and Katsuki can’t abstain from snorting out a loud laugh. He covers his mouth with a hand, but just the image of Izuku’s speechless face at such a dumb-fucking question is enough to get a stupid giggle out of him. He closes his eyes, knowing everyone is staring at him like he just lost his marbles completely, before inhaling. 

“Bakugo-” Ochako begins, sounding overly concerned. 

“Jiro.” He glances at the stupefied-looking girl, flicking two fingers towards her. “My phone’s next to you, on the table. Toss it here.”

There are a few sharp inhales, and really, Katsuki doesn’t know why, but he just feels like grinning. A stupid fucking grin, too. Silly to the core.

“You’re doing it?” Kirishima’s gaping expression contrasts greatly with the way Mineta glows as if Christmas came early for him. “Like, like actually calling him to-”

Catching the phone mid-air, Katsuki busies himself with unlocking it, just as he pushes a wildly curious Kaminari off himself. “Yea, I am. Calm your fucking tits, fuckface. ‘zuku’s in another country right now. He might not even answer.”

No one comments on the way he spoke out a name for the first time in existence. A bit of a careless gamble, keeping in mind that everyone and their dog know what Pro Hero Deku’s real name is, but he just bets no one can make such a connection at this shocking moment in time. Perhaps there are no words to express what’s happening right now. Not when almost all of his classmates save for a few are around him, watching his every move like they could blink and lose it all.

He feels just like that, as well, for some reason. Yea. For some strange fucking reason, the urge to call Izuku covers all the little, but insistent whispers in his head about how stupid this could be. How bad it could go. How much of a stupid and bigger gamble this is, aside from slurring a mere name out.

Maybe if Todoroki wasn’t sleeping, he would have stopped it. Stopped Katsuki’s drunk, longing ass that just wants. He wants a lot. To let go for once, be a reckless moron, to hear his boyfriend’s voice, his reaction to all this stupidity. 

But that’s not the case right now, and Katsuki can’t ignore the anticipation as the phone rings in his hand, for the first time on speaker and not in the privacy of his bedroom. It goes on, and on, like the buzzing in his temples, and for a flick of a second, he truly thinks that Izuku will not respond. And it’s as much a relief as it makes his stomach constrict painfully with mute disappointment-

The line crackles, breaks out into deafening silence, and before anyone has the ability to breathe normally again, there’s a gruff exhale of comforting sleep slipping away. 

“Kacchan,” resounds with sluggish roughness, perhaps a bit of a questioning lilt, and Katsuki swears he feels his whole body melt into nothingness, even if instinct tenses every muscle he has when Mina’s whole body begins buzzing with the squeal she visibly wants to let out.

He doesn’t even want to acknowledge Kirishima mouthing Kacchan incredulously over and over again until Uraraka slaps a hand over his mouth, staring a bit too intense at Katsuki’s face. Or Kaminari’s flushed cheeks, his wide eyes. Or the dumbfounding way in which Iida hovers over the couch, equally as interested as any other.

What the fucking fuck are you doing? His head is filled with reasonable screams of panic, as is floating with the sound of Izuku’s sleep-warmed voice, like spicy honey, and how people may recognize it, how they will know, and he’s a fucking idiot. He’s goddamn fucking stupid. This- 

He almost hurls the phone at the wall, almost hurls himself at the stairs to find the solitude of his bedroom, but instead - after a second, he closes his eyes, only to see the vivid picture of Izuku in a foreign bed, shirtless with sleep pants low on his hips and no blanket over him because he’s always been a goddamn furnace that accepts nothing more than the heat of Katsuki’s body; his heavy-lidded eyes and the dim light of the phone pressing against his ear, waiting for Katsuki to speak, and he-

He-

“I’ve been thinking,” Katsuki begins casually, despite the marathon his heart is doing against his ribs. He hopes his drunkenness is as visible as fucking day, because then this will explain everything. Or not. What-fucking-ever. “Of what your reaction would be if I just called you at ass o’clock to tell you that I honest to fuck want to be railed really hard by Pro Hero Deku. Like, pinned against a wall and fucked three ways to Sunday hard. Get my ass destroyed for three whole days. You get me?”

He doesn’t continue with any other nonsense, maybe because so many people around him are jumping around and flailing their arms in the I-can’t-believe-this-is-truly-fucking-happening way, or because fucking Mineta is blushing so hard he almost looks like the purple grapes on his head, staring at Katsuki like he just shat gold and called it diamonds. It’s somewhat gratifying.

But then silence follows his words, pure silence. Everyone freezes with unsure anticipation, and Katsuki’s whole body begins tingling. As if the panic in his mind truly began spreading all over, made more sense than before. Really, what the fucking fuck are you doing? The hand holding the phone over his lap begins itching with the urge to explode, and he can’t breathe-

There’s a snort. Powerful, so much so that it slides into a smooth laugh immediately. It’s muted, clear that Izuku’s drowsiness didn’t subdue very much, and maybe that’s why he isn’t so sharp with what he’s hearing, because Katsuki is sure his friend’s whispered and faux sounds of giddiness and attempts at shushing each other aren’t that subtle. He inhales, ready to tell him to shut up, when he’s interrupted by one of Izuku’s slow, dragged hums. Slurred. Assured. His entire body freezes. 

The voice that greets him is slowed with a roguish lilt. Like a nimble scratching to the scalp. “Big dreams you have there, love.” 

Katsuki feels it. Feels his whole face spark into a powerful flame, just as he imagines Izuku’s low tilt of his head to the side, the tension in his neck that accentuates the seductive curve of it, the lazy arching of his back like he usually does when he finds Katsuki kneeling between his legs, ready to shove his pants down and let the blonde have his way with his cock-

He ends the call with a quick flick of his finger, throwing the phone beside him. At the affronted yells of his friends, he just lets out a small tsk and covers his face with a palm. He can’t will the raging blush to go down, not when the situation is so fresh, when Izuku is still so vivid in his mind, but the people around him seem in their own bubble either way. 

“Why did you do that? ” Kaminari wails, falling dramatically to his knees as he fists his strands of hair between flexing fingers. His face is properly anguished at the apparent loss. Katsuki throws him a mean glare from behind his hand. “Bro, it was getting so good. Why did you end it? Bakugo! Kacchan!”

Embarrassment gets forgotten in an instant, and Katsuki doesn’t even strain to kick Kaminari face down into the floor, a growl reverberating deeply in his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that-”

“Kacchan,” Mina breathes out, and she goes down onto the floor as well, but of her own volition. She is but a mere puddle of giggles and sparkles as she wiggles next to a groaning Kaminari, eyes fixed on Katsuki’s scowl. “Kacchan. Oh, my God. He calls you- Oh, God, how? How did that man survive finding a nickname for you? And one so fucking cute. Bakugo, it’s so cute !”

“Kacchan,” gushes Ochako, covering her bubbling smile with bashful fingers. “It kind of fits you.”

Kirishima laughs, short and loud, showing a row of sharp teeth curved by a smile. “He sounds mainly, dude.”

“ Cool. He sounded freaking cool. No wonder he charmed your hot-headed ass.” Sero intervenes, tugging Kirishima closer to him by the neck with a similar grin. His eyebrows are doing that stupid dance of suggestive connotations. “Is he a student from another Academy? You should invite him here sometimes. We’re totally as cool as him-”

“Yes!” Invisible chick screams, and Katsuki swears it was like she was directly by his ear. He winces. “Yes, please. He sounds so hot, Bakugo! This is so exciting! No one ever brought their lovers around before. I have so many questions, oh gosh!”

“He could come next weekend?” Koda murmurs, giving a shy smile. “Sato plans to try new recipes.”

“Imagine playing video games with the guy who gets to call Bakugo pet names without a worry in the world,” Kaminari wonders, looking at the ceiling like it could give him all the answers. He still has a petulant twist on his mouth. “That is, if Bakugo actually lets him-”

“Guys,” Yaoyorozu says, unsurprisingly soft. Yet she is smiling, amused at all the excited faces around them. “Bakugo-san repeatedly stated that his romantic life is private. Don’t push more than you are allowed to.”

“Respect the boundaries!” Iida adds with vehemence, hand already in the air.

“Leave that!” Cries Mineta, finally out of his bombshell reaction. His expression gives off only upset. The fucking audacity of it pisses Katsuki off in an instant. “Why did you end the call? We didn’t even hear his reaction properly!”

Katsuki tugs at the light bangs covering his forehead as he stands up, teeth grinding into a sound so disturbing, his mouth hurts. Mineta backs away from his towering figure with nothing more than an audible gulp. “The dare was to call him and tell him some shit. Nothing more. Count your blessings, fuckface, and stop screaming in my fucking face.”

No one says anything after that, seeming to finally get the picture, and Katsuki does nothing more than huff softly, before he steps over both the skeptic figures of Mina and Kaminari to get out of the suffocating circle of unwanted questions and exclamations that make his soul hurt. Kirishima seems to make a move to touch him, but appears to give up on it, and Katsuki doesn’t say anything more than a muttered goodnight as he heads up to his room. 

Once his door is closed, a barrier between him and the evident whispers coming from downstairs, he thrusts his back against it and heaves a breath out with difficulty. Nothing but the wretched regret of doing all that remains, and he is utterly furious with it. He doesn’t want to feel like it was a mistake, like he just added fuel to a fire that was finally simmering. And yet it seemed that it was exactly what he did, with all the intention behind it. And now, all that is in his mind assembles a weird picture of the things his friends want, the same things he wants: the familiarity of getting Izuku to come here and just be with them, and the image of his confused boyfriend somewhere in a country miles away from him.

Sliding down on his butt, Katsuki takes his phone from where he shoved it in his pocket in his hasty retreat, thumbing it until his finger is yet again on the call option, right under the pictureless icon of the contact named Izuku. He bites the edge of his lower lip, staring with burning coals of burgundy, before he tsks and just does it.

Really, he should be preparing to take a shower and finally go to bed, calm the insistent buzzing under his skin, but he finds himself waiting a second time for his boyfriend, and doesn’t feel the same ignited feeling, so forceful last time, so addicting, when Izuku picks up again. 

“I’m lost.” Is what he gets right as the call connects, along with a softly charming laugh that can’t help but put a little smile on Katsuki’s lips.

“Me too,” the blond admits, more subdued than he wanted. He doesn’t know what he means by that, but the mere little hum Izuku gives him in exchange melts all the tension from his muscles. “It was a dare. It was stupid. I-”

He bites his lip, this time fully and with enough force for it to sting. Sorry would be the more appropriate word to say in this moment, because he just risked outing their relationship without even consulting Izuku about it, he risked it for longing. What was he thinking, really? He wasn’t. Even now, the alcohol in his body announces its presence by giving him a dizziness powerful enough to knock his head back against the door. 

Izuku, instead of being upset or a little bothered, like a normal person would be when their lover does ridiculous shit at ass o’clock, just gives a little huff, before it dissolves in a startling chuckle. Katsuki admits, within himself, that he didn’t call again just to explain the situation. He confesses, in the pits of his heart, that he just wanted to hear Izuku’s voice just like this; a little sleepy and so, so fond, even when it shouldn’t be. He’s a selfish bastard, and nothing can take it away from him except the man that makes him be so. 

“Well,” his boyfriend clears his throat, but the amusement doesn’t go away for a second. “Can’t really say I didn’t suspect something of the sort. Your friends are not exactly discreet, Kacchan. My wonder lays on your actual cooperation, though.”

“They’re fucking annoying. Persistent,” he grunts out, digging his socked toes into the cold floor. “But… don’ worry. No one knows who you are.”

“I figured,” comes the calm reply. Mellow and sweet. Katsuki closes his eyes, and pictures what it would be like, to sit in the same bed as Izuku right now, and have the man play with his strands of hair, talk right in his ear, like the walls would be listening and whispers are a must. He lets out a trembling breath at the sudden ache of Izuku’s absence. “Your words gave it away, love. You wanna fuck Pro Hero Deku, eh?”

“Shut it,” Katsuki grumbles, resisting the urge to cover his face from the entertained expression that Izuku has definitely plastered on his face. “I heard your fucking arousal from miles away. Literally, ‘zuku.  Even when you know people are listening, you still pull shit like that.”

“ Hm. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fuckin’ tease,” Katsuki mumbles, clutching the phone tighter when Izuku’s voice bubbles with a laugh. “I need to go shower.”

I miss you. My friends want to meet you. I want-

“I can stay a bit more with you. Kinda hard to fall asleep right now. And I want to talk about something-” 

“You need it, dumbass,” Katsuki retorts, but there’s no heat behind his words. Not like usual, when he scolds Izuku on his mindless habits. He knows why, and he thinks Izuku does too. There’s a short pause, before he opens his mouth again. “Go to sleep.” 

It’s not what he wants. Not what he needs. Izuku’s sigh is pliant and still full of humor, but there’s nothing added to that. “Love you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki swallows all the other words ready to flow out of him like a restricted stream, and blinks rapidly at the ceiling. “Love you too. I promise to call at a normal hour tomorrow, we can talk about whatever you want then.” 

Izuku hums in response, and Katsuki takes it as a sign, ending the call with nothing more than a frail sigh. He stands there for a second, with nothing in particular floating in his mind.

Nothing except the ache that still persists. He wishes he could explode the fuck out of it. 

The next day he doesn’t come in contact with any of his friends until noon, not with the training he threw himself into, as if he’s planning to beat these stupid wants into submission, and the homework he needed to complete. He’s not worried about it, though. Even though last night things didn’t go exactly smoothly at the end, it does happen. All is going to calm down. Things are going back to how they usually are. 

The same, however, could not be said for certain others. 

When the sun is starting to go down, and the sky is turning a pleasant orange, Katsuki simply takes the necessaries for a quick shower, in hopes that after he can get to call Izuku before it’s too late where he is, but bumps straight into Kirishima’s hard chest and stupid face right as he opens the door. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Katsuki unimpressed and Kirishima like a deer caught in the headlights, and before he can pass by him like nothing is goddamn wrong, because it isn’t, Kirishima begins to clear his throat and shuffle his feet in a ridiculously meek way, as if embarrassed and uncertain.

Katsuki’s brow twitches. “Stop that. Spit it out.” 

That seems to be enough to break whatever trance that was. Kirishima’s eyes steel. “We should talk.”

He lets himself be pushed back into his room simply for Kirishima’s dumb, guilty expression that just doesn’t sit well with him. Doesn’t say anything when he is sat on the edge of the bed like a kid ready to be told by his parents that they’re getting a divorce, and bites the inside of his lip at the stupid way Kirishima pushes the desk chair closer to him and sits carefully on it. 

“So,” his friend begins, playing with his thumbs. “I wanted to apologize. Please listen to me- Don’t open your mouth to cuss me out yet!”

Katsuki, narrowing his eyes, does actually close his mouth back, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do at this moment. This is all useless. There is nothing to be sorry for-

“Listen to me,” Kirishima enunciates it slowly, not like you’d do to a kid, but more like he really needs Katsuki to hear it edge to edge. “I haven’t been the best friend that you need, and that is unacceptable. I shouldn’t have egged you on like the others, I should have been on your side, telling others to stop this. Everyone has the right to keep to themselves whatever they want. And as your best friend, I should have-” 

Without any refrain, Katsuki smashes his palms against Kirishima’s rough cheeks, squishing his mouth into absolute, shocked silence. There would have been a time when the red-head would, maybe, most of the time, avoid a touch from Katsuki, or at least flinch a little in anticipation of an angry explosion, but that was in their first year, when they barely became friends and Katsuki didn’t know a thing about how to contain his anger, and how not to be a stupid, violent kid. Now, though, Kirishima only leans into the touch like Katsuki’s hands are heat pads and gives a little frown at the interruption. 

“Now you listen to me,” Katsuki says, voice raspy. He looks straight into wide, red eyes. “You fucking dumbass. You don’t have anything to apologize for-”

With that rugged strength of his that Katsuki is sometimes struggling to keep up with, Kirishima yanks his head out of his hold with a protesting noise, “No, I do! Bakugo, you don’t under-”

“I understand fucking perfectly,” he butts in again, not before pointing a warning finger at his frustrated friend. “How many times do I have to say that I will always tell any of you fuckers if something bothers me? You would’ve known for sure if something was wrong. No one crossed a line, no one got on my nerves. You did nothing wrong. Got it?”

Kirishima opens and closes his mouth, yet he doesn’t have conviction behind his gaze. Finally, he says something, albeit resigned. “You’ve been walking out on us fuming a lot more recently. Just… it made me think.”

Truth be said, Katsuki didn’t even realize it until now. He mulls over all the inner conflicts he’s had in the past weeks, and sighs softly, resting a spread palm on his right knee with a bowed head for a few seconds, before glazing up at a fretful Kirishima with a difficult expression.

“I have some things to figure out,” he grunts, and it’s soft. “It has nothing to do with any of you.” 

It’s still hard, even after years, to admit some things. Even to the people he feels most comfortable with. 

Kirishima gives a slight frown. “Are you sure? Bro, I would hate to ever create problems in your relationship-”

“Nothing like that,” Katsuki shuts it down, blunt and simple, before standing up to reach for his towels. “Now get out. I need to go shower.”

“Wait, wait, wait-” Before he gets to the door, two big hands grab onto his shoulders, and Katsuki turns towards his sheepish friend with an annoyed click of his tongue. “Dude, don’t be upset with me. It’s just - we’ve not spent much time together for a while, and I have this new game-”

“I need to shower, dipshit,” Katsuki growls out. “And it’s late as fuck on a weekday. You should go the fuck to sleep-”

“It’s a really hard one, and it’s based on teamwork,” Kirishima goes on, completely undeterred by the warning sparkles in Katsuki’s eyes. In fact, his expression goes fully taunting in that playful, shitty way of his. “But I know you still have some problems with that. It’s alright, I can ask Kaminari-” 

“If the game isn’t on when I finish the shower,” Katsuki grits his teeth, blaming his stubbornness and pride for the way Kirishima grins at him victoriously with his entire row of sharp teeth. “I’m going to blow you up, Kirishima. Without fucking remorse.” 

His bedroom door is yanked open by a way-too-cheerful red-head. “Yup! I’ll have it on and ready in ten, so hurry.” 

Katsuki watches him weirdly skip toward his bedroom, like a spoiled child ready to receive his hundredth gift this year. Somehow, this feels like he just lost a battle.

Eijiro 09:15 a.m:

keep me and denki a seat

please?

Katsuki 09:16 a.m:

Burn in fucking hell.

Eijiro 09:16 a.m:

cmon brooooo

how did you want me to know that we were gonna

get caught up in the story line like that? you wanted

to stay up as much as me

at least we finished the game

bakugo

bro

broooo

please keep us a seat

and buy some apple juice before its sold out

bakugoooooo

The goddamn apple juice boxes rattled as they make contact with the table, and Katsuki grunts in response, throwing them an annoyed look when he sits down. He shouldn’t have bought anything at all, really, and shouldn't have kept any seat open for those two dumbasses, but the exhaustion in his bones speaks louder than his pettiness today. No wonder, he wasted a whole night beside Kirishima on the floor, punching buttons on the joystick and yelling out profanities like his life depended on beating a shitty game. Well, they beat it, and the satisfaction wasn’t as good as a goodnight's sleep usually is.

Or a call with Izuku. 

Katsuki rubs at his scowl repeatedly. Of all times to forget his phone in his bedroom, to forget that he told his boyfriend he will call him - all for a game. Admittedly, when Kirishima goads him like that, Katsuki seldom resists. But still. He feels so much shame that it burns in his gut, almost doesn’t let him eat the lunch he bought. He does get some bites in, though. No sleep and no food is the most fucked up combination he could try. He won’t be any more stupid than he proved himself to be in the last hours.

And really, Mina and Ochako should know to not be stupid either, but they clearly haven’t been paying attention to his deep grumpiness the whole morning, for they sit in front of him with a shit ton of papers in their hands and prepared grins that make his stomach churn unpleasantly.

Katsuki swallows what he was chewing slowly. “No.”

Ochako’s narrow shoulders drop immediately - bless her - but Mina, of course, doesn’t give a shit, and actually kicks him in the shin under the table. Katsuki barely grunts. He just glares. Strongly.

She clears her throat like she’s about to enter a very important meeting, and taps the papers on the table. “Someone, we won’t give names for the sake of anonymity, has been shamed pretty badly these days about a kink of theirs. Our class along with some others will do a survey of just how normal a lot of kinks are to show some assholes that they’re the shameful weirdos around here. You’re going to help, Bakugo.” 

He looks at them for a second, serious looks and straight shoulders, and sneers at no one in particular, feeling exasperated and irritated at the same time. “Whatever.” 

The smile Ochako gifts him is almost too sweet for this whole ordeal, and he can’t help but give her a grimace in exchange. It’s a softer one, though. She glances at the shadows under his eyes for a second, before starting softly. “What do you think about possessiveness?” 

“Hot,” he says simply, and by Mina’s unimpressed look, he already understands that he can’t get out of this so easily. With a roll of his eyes, he gives in. “When it’s consensual. Non-consensual possessiveness is not a kink. It’s attempted assault. There’s a big difference that people should be aware of, and distinguish.”

“Good,” Mina says, all proper. It’s surprising to have her like this, with no smile on her pretty face, or a teasing remark on her lips. Katsuki realizes just how important this is for her, and almost smiles. It’s worth feeling pride, when your friends are heroes for others without even realizing it truly. “We’ve come to ask you about this because we know that you’re in a relationship and you may be able to give more descriptive answers. It’s alright if you don’t want to answer certain things. It’s your right to say no. Now, do you like to be the possessive one, or do you like your boyfriend to be?” 

Katsuki inhales, and reaches forward. “Give it to me.”

He takes Mina’s pen and one of her papers, ignoring her spluttered objection. He chews his fries nonchalantly while he scribbles down whatever needs to be said, lifting one eyebrow occasionally at what he reads, before he pushes them towards the blinking girls, a blank expression on his face. 

“Hope it’s descriptive enough,” he mutters, and one corner of his mouth twitches ever so softly, making Mina narrow her golden eyes at him.

She doesn’t have time to retort something, because Ochako is already stuttering with a flaming cheeks beside her, seemingly having read what Katsuki completed on the survey. 

“I- I think it’s enough,” Ochako meeps behind her clumsy fingers, where she’s hiding her red face. “Thank… you?” 

Mina peers over the paper, then promptly grabs her horns as if she needs to hold onto something. The pinkness of her skin goes a shade darker. “Did you just write a short smut scenes for every question that specified descriptiveness?”

“They are instances of consensual kinks. Very normal. Very common. There is no actual penetrative sex written, and no cuss words.” Katsuki bites into a long fry, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

“Are they even taken from your personal experience?” Mina asks, seemingly aggravated, but the arch of her often-curious brows says otherwise. She doesn’t even pay mind to Ochako’s little bump of protest at the intrusive question. 

Katsuki snorts, and gives her a stare. “You’ll have to wonder, Pinky. I sure as fuck won’t tell you. You’ll have to figure out if I like to get my thighs grabbed in public or if choking is my normal Saturday activity. I’m sure you’ll crack the code.” 

He’s met with a big scoff, but the betraying grin at the edge of her lips speaks of her amusement, and Katsuki doesn’t need anything more than that. She’s less tense, and his tiredness is not a constant pulse in his limbs after this little interaction. He thinks that’s a win-win situation, in its own way. 

Kacchan; 10:07 a.m: 

I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday.

I got caught with Kirishima and his stupid games.

Call me whenever you’re free, and I’ll drop everything for you.

Love you.

Kacchan; 10:29 a.m:

And fuck, I miss you.

Real hard.

Izuku doesn’t respond to his texts, even after a few days go by. Katsuki is not worried, though. Ghosting is not a method in which his boyfriend expresses his upset or concerns. He’s the type of guy that tackles them head-on, and that is something that Katsuki has always found charming. Which means, of course, that Izuku must be on heavy-duty, or too tired to check texts - which is not uncommon in this particular line of work. Especially when he’s not in their own country. 

So Katsuki doesn’t fret, or overthink. He just goes on about his goals and how to achieve them, uses that weekend to go and visit his old folk instead of spending it at his boyfriend’s apartment like he does when Izuku is in Japan and available. They’ve been nagging him about not coming home the whole semester, so he finally does. 

Of course, that only results in days full of bickering with his old hag about a haircut, and in the end gives in and schedules one - which ends with him getting the exact same undercut he’s been getting for the past year and even more bickering with his mother. It all feels like reassuring familiarity, especially when his old man just sighs and lets them figure it out without trying to diffuse the situation anymore. They don’t ask him more than a casual how are classes? Training? Because they know that he will tell them the important things, if need be. That’s how it always has been. 

He appeases his hag by letting her put some modeling clothes on him for her next line of winter, but not without some scornful commentary about how some of them feel more fit for summer. 

Despite it, he does take one of the sweaters with him, loving the texture and the nuance of color. When his mother puts it in a brown bag with furrowed brows and muttering comments about the shoulders being way too broad to keep him any real warmth, Katsuki can only stay quiet because of the images of a happy, blushing Izuku wearing it instead of him. It will fit the green-head like a glove, he knows, and that’s what is important.

In orderly manner, he also ignores all the annoying group chat spams about Pro Heroes coming this week to give U.A. slight lessons or words of advice and assistance throughout classes, and not because he is a petty child and doesn’t think it will help him, but simply for the fact that Invisible Chick so chaotically revealed that the one assigned to their class will be fucking Delirium of all people - Katsuki doesn’t want anything to do with that. He doesn’t even want to know which Pro Heroes will be assigned to the other classes, not when it won’t have any shit to do with him. If he wasn’t so careful with keeping his attendance check perfect, he would have gladly skipped the shitshow that was about to unfold. 

Though, of course, Monday morning at the crack of dawn, after an ass o’clock run and a shower, when he’s ready to put on whatever and head towards the dorms so he can properly get ready for classes, he doesn’t exactly do it. Instead, when he spots with the corner of his eye the brown bag sitting quietly by his backpack, he yanks the sweater out and puts it on, not even slightly annoyed at slight looseness of it like he usually would be.

He knows why, even when he doesn’t want to properly admit it -  he halts and lets the compelling crave pulse in his chest even when he’s out of his childhood house, on the road. He stretches the sleeves over his hands and just lets it. Even embraces it, after years of thinking that such craves are the fragility of all. Young Katsuki doesn’t know what fragility is, just like he’d never imagine truly feeling a longing like this. 

To miss a person. A soul. 

The sun is not up properly when he enters the silent dorm. The fools he calls friends are surely still snoring away, scratching at their butts under their covers. Katsuki snorts and quickly climbs to his room to put his stuff down, before coming back down to prepare a plentiful breakfast as a start of the week. That’s all they get from him as an apology for ignoring all their texts. Nothing more. 

He’s in the middle of cutting up some side dishes and thinking about what seafood is left for him to prepare while constantly scrunching the large sleeves up, and if maybe he should do some pancakes as well because they warm the belly and outside is a shit ton of cold-

Sneaky hands slither around his waist in a loose manner, and for a split-second, he freezes completely, wondering how someone can sneak behind him so easily, how did he not hear anything- 

But then, cheeky lips and the tip of a cold nose nuzzle behind his ear, and before he can make the instinctual decision of letting his sweaty palms do the warning, a familiar chuckle resounds softly. 

“What’s got you so spacy today, darling?” 

Truth to be said, it kind of makes him freeze again. For a delirious second, he thinks he’s daydreaming about this kind of possible scenario, and that almost makes him pinch himself, but then the warm hands tighten on his hips like a struggling breath, and a gentle kiss is placed behind his ear like it was so many times before, and Katsuki drops the knife on the cutting board, before turning sharply to face an amused Izuku. 

An amused Izuku dressed in full-on Pro Hero costume, except for his characteristic mask. 

The chaotic questions must be pretty clear on his face, but Izuku just smiles like a man high on happiness, and crowds him harder against the countertop, bringing their noses together in an adorable eskimo kiss that would make even the scums of the earth melt on the spot. 

“You’re real,” he blurts out; one of the fewest stupid things he’s not ashamed of letting out, not when it makes Izuku burst into a small, attractive laugh that warms him to his toes. He nearly lets himself close his eyes, ready to be assaulted with kisses because Izuku looks ready to launch them, but then he realizes where they’re sitting exactly, and startles with a wide look over Izuku’s shoulder. “Wait. Fuck, what are you doing here? ”

Izuku leans slightly back at the hissing quality of his voice, and Katsuki almost yanks him back against him, if not for the panic he feels at the possibility of being walked on any moment now. It’s too early for any assured walk-in, but Katsuki will never underestimate his shitty friends and their unpredictability. Though, Izuku doesn’t let him peer toward the kitchen door for too long, because he faces Katsuki yet again, this time looking calculating and a little puzzled.

“You should’ve known,” the green-head mumbles softly, resting his hands by Katsuki’s hips against the countertop. When the blond frowns, ready to spit fire back at the cryptic words, mixed with the irritating confusion he feels, Izuku continues. “I’m one of the Pro Heroes assigned to come and counsel a class at U.A.” 

The confusion doesn’t leave right away, even after that, but then it clicks, and Katsuki almost wants to punch himself at the stupidity of his own ass. He inhales, biting at the inside of his cheek. “I knew Delirium was coming to counsel ours. I had no idea who the other Pros were, or are.” 

“You’re usually so set on knowing all the details possible.” Izuku’s teasing expression is not welcome right now. 

The scowl on Katsuki’s part, however, is fully deserved. “Why would I give a shit about another’s class counselor, huh?”

Izuku gives him a second-lasting pout of playful contemplation, before he smiles again with that charm of his, a bit rough around the edges, but totally and completely assertive. He takes a step closer, if possible, and rubs their noses together again. “I don’t know, maybe you thought your one and only was going to be one of them. Not too far-fetched, hm? I’m not that bad of a hero to ask advice from.” 

“Not when I know you’re in another country,” Katsuki fires back, albeit a bit softer than he’d like. It’s hard to maintain a look of irk on his face when Izuku trails his grinning lips across his right cheek, promising a kiss but not quite there yet. 

“I was,” Izuku mumbles distractedly. “Until yesterday. My phone broke again.” 

Katsuki snorts. Of course. He doesn’t even want to think about the number of phones Izuku’s fucked in this last year since they’ve been dating, or the years prior. With how reckless the man is with his own body, is not even surprising. Inhaling the familiar scent of mint and something more, he mutters, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here. In this dorm.”

That smart mouth settles against his ear, breathing teasingly into it. “Wanted to see you, Kacchan. Missed you so hard. Give me attention, please.” 

This - is one big temptation. A damning one. Completely. No doubts about it. But Katsuki has learned restraint about many things in his life. Without it you don’t go far. That’s the only thing making him capable of resisting Izuku’s voice saying things like that right now, the only thing capable of making him push his boyfriend back with a little frown.

“The others could wake up any moment now,” he says softly, tries not to stare at Izuku’s mouth, his gentle, fond gaze. Instead, he pokes him sharply in his contoured pectoral. Fuck. Don’t give in. “You and your shitty, attractive expression need to go right now, Deku.” 

“Damn,” his boyfriend gives a little chuckle, and Katsuki really wants to push him and his enchanting ass out of this building, before he climbs him like a tree. “Not even first name basis, after weeks of not seeing each other.”

Izuku doesn’t do as he’s told - of course. He doesn’t go back to the main building to meet with the other Pro Heroes, doesn’t make himself scarce in any other way. No, instead he begins taking his white gloves off, slowly, while maintaining eye contact with Katsuki. He would kick his ass out, he really would, but goddamn it if he’s not entranced with the slow, almost sensual action, with the way every scarred finger comes out into view one by one. He likes those fingers a lot, alright? He wants them everywhere on him, wants to feel their bruising force. But. But-

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, voice rougher than he wanted it to be. 

That grants him a quirked eyebrow. Fully amused. Only amused. “Me? I don’t think so. I’m not the one doing risky dares with actual people around.”

He swallows. It’s not enough. “This is more risky than anything else. If they come and see you with me-” 

“What?” Izuku has a way with his gaze - when it sharpens, you know he has you as his full focus. It’s a cut-edge danger that some can’t even resist. It’s addicting. Katsuki couldn’t resist it either, and look where it got him. “What do you think is going to happen? I’m not doing anything. We’re just talking.” 

He looks down at the way their bodies are pressed against each other, then looks back up, utterly unimpressed. 

The grin he receives in return is fully shameless, sharp with fangs. Izuku puts the gloves on the counter behind him, and leans into one arm, looking a little down at him. The warmth of their shared air is enchanting. “We’re still just talking. Just a little closer, so we don’t wake anyone up.”

“Your bullshit won’t go over anyone’s head,” Katsuki mutters, then by the result of some weakness he can’t ever put down, defeat at last, he leans in and nuzzles softly at the hollow of Izuku’s throat, smiling in subtlety when he feels it twitch under his touch. Izuku smells like the hard-earned sweat of a fight, but also like he properly showered before coming here. Hm. 

A presumptuous mouth lowers into his hair, and mimics a familiar smile against his scalp, making all the little hairs at his nape rise in awareness. Naked, rough hands succeed in sneaking underneath the loose sweater, feeling like a mark on his skin. “Don’t underestimate my acting skills so easily, Kacchan. I could totally make your friends believe I’m a stranger to you.” 

Katsuki thinks about the absurdity of that, the randomness of it. A childish provocation that won’t get them anywhere. He snorts against Izuku’s throat, before burying his nose against the rugged collar of his costume. Maybe it won’t hurt to sit like this for a few minutes, before shoving his stubborn boyfriend out-

Nimble fingers pinch at the soft skin of his left hip in playful punishment for his silence, and Katsuki lifts his gaze a little to give his boyfriend a cranky glare that, of course, doesn’t last long, because soft lips catch his by surprise in a wet, short kiss, and Katsuki is only human, alright? He sighs into it, and goes for a second that he’s illegally denied. Izuku only gives him an expectant look. The pretty asshole.

“This is fucking stupid,” Katsuki says after tucking his lips with petulance, putting his sleeve-covered hands around Izuku’s neck to shove him closer so he can mutter a bit callously against his amused mouth. “You couldn’t lie for the life of you, ‘zuku.”

“Yea?” The low spoken word is accompanied by the sharpest of grins. He feels it like a blade to his throat. Something behind him clatters, and Katsuki blinks at the sound. “Alright, let me show you.” 

Before he’s aware of what’s going on entirely, strong hands grab his thighs under his ass and lift him up on the countertop in one swoop. Katsuki feels the breath knocked out of him for a hot second, and then it escapes his lungs again when his legs are parted carelessly and an entertained Izuku goes between them, checking Katsuki up and down casually, head tilted, and dark red mouth twisted with mischief. All the side dishes he was preparing were pushed around them as if in a hurry. Cheeky fuck-

Something catches at the collar of his loose sweater - curious fingers tugging, and he blinks at the way Izuku observes it with a nearly laid-back glance, as if it’s not a thing of importance. But he knows - they both know, that this is not something Katsuki would usually wear. Not this baggy. Unless, of course, it’s owned by the man between his legs. 

That shitty, mischievous glint is back in those dark green eyes, and something between them crackles like the lightning kickstart of Izuku’s quirk.

“Pretty,” Izuku speaks slowly, voice a throaty hum, and rests his whole weight on his hand by Katsuki's hip, practically caging him in. “This is for me?”

Ignoring all the treacherous shivers at the way Izuku smiles at him, all warm and seeming satisfied, Katsuki lifts his chin and gives him a slanted gaze, stubborn to the core. 

“Why would it be for you? I don’t fucking know you, right?” He says, and it’s so snooty. A high-and-mighty that might have worked on an actual goddamn stranger. This is absurd, yet Katsuki can’t help but indulge. Can’t help but play right in it. Izuku’s little games. 

Because it makes his boyfriend grin with an animalistic quality, eyes crinkling at the edges like they do when he’s profusely entertained, lined with lewd gratification because Katsuki is the one giving in. It happens sometimes, when they tease each other, and it only brings shivers down Katsuki’s spine. 

“Ah,” Izuku says, then wets his lower lip slowly, softly, looking Katsuki up and down like a goddamn wolf eyeing a deer, and Katsuki can’t help but try to kick him with a foot, only to half-scowl when it’s caught in a warm hand. Fingers dig into his ankle with demure attention. “I think you know exactly who I am. Hm?”

The hand yanks him closer, and Katsuki can only hold his breath as Izuku cradles his waist with his other hand, while looking him down with delight. They’re practically sharing a breath. 

“I told you,” Katsuki snorts softly, and doesn’t even think twice about leaving a small peck on those grinning lips. “You’re fucking horrible at this.” 

Izuku doesn’t seem in the least offended, he just hums in his throat, low and intuitive.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. I could just do this,” the tips of Izuku’s fingers trail over his jawline with flutter-inducing precision, before they take hold of his chin and tip his head back. Katsuki swallows, suddenly engulfed in Izuku’s burning stare. “And I could ask- What’s your name, mm? You’re mesmerizing. Your fucking eyes, God. One look from them and I’m undone. Let me get to know you. Let me show you how I worship such a pretty thing like you.” 

His lips part, but no words get out. Instead, Katsuki feels all the air in his lung leave him, mouth trembling with it, with the way Izuku’s thump digs into his plush bottom lip, a little mean, a little foreign. Maybe it’s the raspy quality of those words, and they are such a sham and yet, Izuku’s face reflects all the want of someone who’d devour without a single name exchange, nothing more than carnal intention. It’s not something he’s experienced before, and he’s almost ashamed to admit that it’s working wonders on him right now. It’s making a low, greedy warm pool at his lower abdomen. It’s dizzying. It’s- 

“What the fuck -”

Jumping with a thigh clench around Izuku’s middle, Katsuki whips his head to stare in horror at the kitchen door, where an utterly flabbergasted Kirishima just slapped a heavy hand on Mineta’s whole face and is also holding onto a completely petrified Kaminari. 

Shocked silence follows for a second. Izuku’s hand slips from his hold on Katsuki’s chin, landing on his thigh with a slapping sound. 

“Huh?” Is heard behind them, among other voices that seem to be coming from the bedrooms, and Mina’s sleepy figure joins the shit show. “Why are you guys making a ruckus so early in the- Holy fucking shit-!”

Oh. Oh, no. There’s a squeal, Mina’s whole figure buzzing with a frequency worthy of concern, and that may be the only thing that makes Katsuki push himself away from the whole compromising position by jumping off the counter, legs unstable and tingly as he lands. His brain is blaring, panic surely on his features, and he doesn’t even want to know what Izuku looks like right now. He needs to find a solution in about a second, find an excuse. How do you excuse this? How? How?

“Listen-” He croaks, and that should be followed by a series of perfectly reasonable explanations about what they had just witnessed, even though he doesn’t know them yet - he’s good at improvising in situations like this.

But of course it doesn’t go his way, not even for a bit.

“Dude,” Kirishima steps closer; it’s stomped, just like his voice is loud with outrage, and Katsuki can only take a step back, completely taken aback at the sudden fury on his best friend’s face. “How could you?”

How could I? Katsuki thinks blankly, just for a second, but it still doesn’t come to him. It still doesn’t click: the reasons he’s blamed for. 

He parts his lips, finds himself speechless, and yet his instinctual brain-to-mouth filter is missing right at this moment as well. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

If it’s even possible, in all the silence of the others staring in stilted shock and more joining to look through the doorway with blinks of dumbfounded shock, Kirishima seems to be even more infuriated by his words. He clenches his hardened fists, and glares at-

“Are you really doing this? With him ?” He demands - a holler, more like, and his aggressive gesticulation towards Izuku has Katsuki goddamn flinching. “It was funny when it was just for shits and fucking giggles, Bakugo, but I never pegged you for one to actually give in to his lust when you have a damn boyfriend !”

There’s just - a moment of total silence, in which Katsuki stares at Kirishima like he just announced that he’s hated him all these years, this whole time, with finality. Suddenly, he feels like a four-year child again, shocked to his core by the effects of his exploding hands, lost and confused and not at all exalted at the manifestation of his Quirk. Not at first. It’s like a literal blow to the face, searing in its awakening pain. Kirishima’s words match that experience, they burn a hole in Katsuki’s soul for a while.

But then, anger and incredulity take its place, trying to pathetically seal that hole like it can be repaired, and he takes a step toward his friend - all his friends with a scorching growl in his throat, palms already sweating profusely in response to his animosity. 

“Are you fucking out of your mind ?” Katsuki roars, swears he sees Uraraka flinch somewhere at the back, behind the ones at the doorway. Smoke is already frizzling around his palms, and if he didn’t have words for these shits, now he has all the vocabulary at the tip of his tongue just to make them understand that this is the most idiotic conclusion-

There’s a laugh, short but unrestrained, before arms come around his middle and yank him back into Izuku’s chest. It makes Kirishima’s left eye twitch, and he almost looks ready to lounge himself at the Pro Hero without a thought about the consequences. 

But Izuku speaks, his chin already set on Katsuki’s shoulder. His tone, the graceful lilt in it, almost loosens Katsuki’s tension. “He’s ready to murder the both of us, Kacchan. What were you saying about my bullshit again?” 

Before anyone can do or say something else about that, Mina pushes at Mineta and Kirishima with forceful hands, hopping next to Kirishima. Her whole expression seems to be glowing, eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, Kacchan? Holy fucking shit. Wait, fuck, Kirishima, he’s-”

Kirishima, on his part, seems to blink out of his fury at the violent shake Mina gives him, face going slack like he finally understood, for the most part, and Katsuki’s whole body is beginning to sweat, cold and clammy. He’s not even able to look at Izuku like he had lost his mind because he’s being held against his chest. 

“But- But-!” Mineta jumps in, appearing to have burst the bubble of shock around him. “He’s Pro Hero Deku! Bakugo called his boyfriend and told him about-! He can’t be!” 

“What is going on here?” Iida storms in, pajamas a little askew as if he just woke up. The glasses, though, are perfectly positioned on his annoyed face. “It’s five in the morning, for Lord’s sake-”

“Bakugo’s boyfriend is here!” Mina yells in his face, barely containing all her ridiculous excitement. She takes a tense Iida by the shoulders, and gives him a vigorous shake. “He’s fucking here, and he’s Pro Hero Deku, Iida! Can you believe this?” 

“You’ve played us all,” Kaminari breathes out, but his mouth is already curling into a smile that is too proud for this whole thing. “Holy shit, I knew that something was fishy the moment you moaned when you saw him on the news!”

“He what ?” Izuku asks with incredulity, a laugh already in his throat. Katsuki can’t help it - he sputters in indignation, red as a fucking tomato, when his boyfriend begins giggling into the side of his neck. “Oh my God, you’re so cute -”

Mina squeals yet again, as chaos descends even more, because now all his classmates are coming in, staring like complete fools at how a blushing Katsuki is spooned from the back by a chuckling Pro Hero Deku. Kirishima is trying to butt in, face looking like he’s ready to spew all sorts of apologies for his outburst, and Mineta is tearing his grape-hair out in disbelief, screaming it out loud, and Kaminari still looks shocked out of his mind, and-

What happened to keeping it all a secret for the sake of protection? He thinks weakly to himself in the midst of it all while Iida and a flustered Yayorozu are trying to calm the situation down. So many months, so many times, he’s been so careful, and now it’s all out. Everyone knows.

“Hey.” Soft hands turn him around a bit, and Katsuki’s blank stare clears to make Izuku’s gentle face visible. He’s looking at Katsuki like he knows what’s going through his mind, like he wants to endearingly sigh at all the overthinking going on in there, and it’s as infuriating as is comforting. “It’s alright, love. I wanted this.”

“You did?” Katsuki asks, throat feeling raw, whole body feeling vulnerable. For some reason. There are jitters in him, for Izuku’s knowing little smile, for the answer he, deep within, knows he’s about to receive. Why? That would be the logical question, but the expression he’s shown already answers it, without any words needed. 

Because you wanted it. 

Instead, Izuku simply leans a bit in a gives him the softest, most careful peck. It’s made of velvet. Mindful. Sweet. Katsuki closes his eyes, and almost heaves a small sob when he feels it against his lips, if not for the repetitive squeal Mina gives in their direction, one that makes Izuku grin mirthfully against his mouth. That in itself feels like another kiss, and Katsuki can’t help but smile a little as well, just for Izuku to feel.

And that’s how he found himself, half an hour later, in the middle of their shared living room, with most of his classmates sitting in various places - on the couch and around it - stares varying from looking at him like he’s a Saint ready to preach, to at an amused Izuku leaning against a piece of furniture somewhere close to Katsuki. 

“Obviously, you already fucking know him and all,” Katsuki deadpans as a start, totally a scheme to hide the urge to fidget with his hands like he’s a kid ready to do a demonstration. From somewhere on the left, Todoroki is giving him such a self-satisfied smile, the fucker. “But whatever. This is Izuku Midoriya, my boyfriend. Izuku, these are my shitty fucking friends. Never ever talk to them after this.” 

Izuku snorts immediately in the silence that follows. It doesn’t last, though. 

“Told you guys he would be into sweethearts,” Uraraka pipes up, round cheeks bunching with the swift smile she is directing at him. There’s playfulness in her downy eyes. “The best of all, eh, Bakugo? Didn’t expect anything less.” 

“And he’s tall,” Sero adds with a smirk.

There are muffled giggles at that, along with some grumbles from Mineta.

“Don’t inflate his ego more than it needs to be,” Katsuki snarks, already knowing that Izuku’s cheeks are getting a tad pink at the words. It’s seriously endearing, how he scratches at his nape and looks like never received a compliment in his life, yet the grin on his lips tells otherwise. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything else, before something grabs him by the shoulders with surprising force.

“You need to tell us how you two got together!” Invisible chick gushes right in his face. Katsuki blinks, then scowls. “We need to know, Bakugo. This is so juicy!”

The others already look ready to assist her demand. 

“No fucking way,” he responds, before putting his hand somewhere he thinks her face is, and shoving her away. 

“That’s a long story,” Izuku chimes in with a smile, he takes out a small device from somewhere in his back, checks it. “Maybe some other time. I need to head back and meet the others.”

“No other time,” Katsuki repeats, glowering harder, this time at his entertained boyfriend. “Don’t fucking indulge them.” 

Without responding, Izuku takes the necessary steps to thread his gloved hand in the hair at the back of Katsuki's head, just to lean in and whisper softly. 

“I’m indulging you. No one else.” And goddamn if it doesn’t make Katsuki shiver.

He leaves just like that, with a wink and his shitty, charming smile directed at all his friends, and Katsuki swears he’s already red from the tips of his ears to his collarbones, and it’s very visible. He can do nothing but glare at Izuku’s retreating figure, already fuming when the barely concealed laughs of his friends reach him. 

“You’re so whipped,” Todoroki comments casually, but his smile is unwavering. More giggles come from that. 

In orderly fashion, Katsuki looks at him straight on, face betraying nothing, and gives him the middle finger. 

He doesn’t deny it though. He can’t, because it would be a lie, and Bakugo Katsuki doesn’t do lies. The happiness that he feels buzzing along his limbs, in his chest, his soul, is a welcome feeling that he couldn’t deny even if he did lie. 

Katsuki lets it spread, lets it make a home where longing once stood.

It feels damn great, even with all the teasing he’s sure to receive from now on.