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It all starts on a Wednesday.
It starts when Bakugou Katsuki, resident explosive expert and the human embodiment of Fuck it, stumbles into the common room area, eyes half closed with a dazed horrified expression on his face, before face planting into the conveniently empty sofa.
There is a moment of silence where Uraraka, Iida, and Izuku stare frozen in place on the adjacent sofa quietly contemplating what they were seeing. Their musing broken only when Yaoyorozu Momo, resident best girl and genius, stumbles in after with an equally dazed and horrified expression painted across her face before falling onto the conveniently placed Bakugou with a quiet omph .
Uraraka, Iida, and Izuku stare.
“I’ll call Kirishima.”
.
Kirishima isn’t sure when this became his life.
Listen… he loves his bros. He does. Bakugou, being one of his best bros, is definitely up there on the list of people he would die for and is currently the only member of “I’d commit crimes for” list. (Kamino had been an eye opener in a lot of ways.)
But he misses when his classmates didn’t consider him the Bakugou-wranglers. First, because they’re all young adults and should be able to deal with their own problems and second because he has a life that doesn’t always revolve around Bakugou thank you very much.
Still he’s not angry enough to refuse when Midoriya calls him downstairs to the common room to “move Bakugou.” When the elevator doors slide open, he expects screaming and explosions and the occasional curse word thrown in for good measure.
What he gets is pleasant silence, a peaceful common room, and eight of his classmates currently grouped around the sofa like they were witnessing a rare well-rested Aizawa.
“Kirishima,” Izuku calls before Uraraka hushes him with a finger pressed firmly against her lip. “Hi,” Izuku whispers as he gets closer.
Slowly the crowd parts like the red sea before their messiah.
Kirishima pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. “I deserve this,” he hisses when Iida throws him a disapproving glance. He stares down at the small screen before backup at the two lying fast asleep on the sofa. Bakugou with his fierce expression softened by sleep and Momo whose face is hidden in Bakugou’s neck but whose hands could be seen curled around Bakugou’s biceps.
It is adorable. It is precious. It is the best damn thing Kirishima has seen all week.
“What’s the problem?” Kirishima asks after a moment when no one moves or speaks up.
“We don’t know how to wake Bakugou up,” Uraraka admits.
“Then leave them,” Kirishima says, already scrolling through his line to forward the message to the group chat.
“It is not appropriate…” Iida starts.
“They’re not hurting anyone or themselves. They’re already asleep and it’s completely platonic,” Kirishima cuts him off, carefully dodging his flying hands. “It’s late anyway and we should all be in bed.”
“But...”
“Get them a blanket or something,” Kirishima dismisses with a wave of his hand. For the first time, he’s honestly happy to be considered den mother. Not even Iida could overpower him within the dorms.
Mina had responded with a series of heart emojis.
Kirishima chuckles quietly to himself as he walks away.
.
Izuku decides he’s not going to think about it.
Easier said than done of course, but when has difficulty ever stopped him before? He is Deku the persistent hero! Deku, the future symbol of hope! Deku, the quirkless boy who’d become achieved the unachievable! If he sets his mind to something, he’s sure to get it done.
This is what he tells himself as he brushes his teeth and slips into his uniform. This is what he chants as he happily skips his way to class.
Nothing , he decides as he opens the classroom door, is going to ruin this day.
“Fuck you!”
It takes a moment for Izuku to place it. Because in front of him is a strangely somber looking Kacchan, head cradled in his hand as he looks listlessly out the window. Worse, his lips are not moving.
Izuku takes a deep breath and slowly turns his head.
Yaomomo stands next to her desk with a large purple ball clasped tightly in her fist. “If I ever catch you near the hem of my skirt again I will crush you!” she snarls, tossing the ball onto the opposite desk with a loud smack. “Do you understand me, diaper boy?”
Mineta looks close to tears.
For a moment Yaomomo seems to hesitate before she sharply glances up at the front of the class and then back down to the purple-haired boy before her. “This is your last warning. If you fuck up…” she lets the sentence trail off before nodding, satisfied.
The class is deathly quiet, all eyes trained on her as she takes her seat.
It’s only then does Aizawa Sensei arrives.
.
“Maybe it’s a quirk thing,” Kaminari offers as everyone finishes pushing their desks into the circle. Izuku finds himself squashed between Iida and Uraraka with Kirishima across. Only some had elected to stay in the lunch room while other, less nosy folk like Jirou, Tsuyu, Koda, Sato, Shoji, and Todoroki had elected to go to the cafeteria as usual.
Most notably, Kacchan and Yaomomo have made themselves scarce as soon as the bell had rang.
“I doubt it,” Ashido laughs, setting down her phone to take a bite of rice. “I mean…” she says around a mouthful. “Wouldn’t the teachers tell us like that time Sero-”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Sero cuts her off, cheeks aflame just from the memory of it.
Next to him, Uraraka does her best to muffle her snickers and fails.
Mineta grumbles quietly to himself as he had been all day. Izuku decides for the sake of his sanity to ignore his squeal of pain when Hagakure smacks him. Not even Iida speaks up.
Instead Kirishima says, “I think they’re good for each other.”
“Good?” Iida cries, standing up. “I don’t see how encouraging foul mouthed behavior can be considered a good thing!”
“Well she stood up for herself,” Kirishima grins, tilting his head just so that he reminds Izuku of a rather loving rottweiler. “Personally I thought it was totally manly!”
“Mineta’s gross,” Mina adds. “Telling him off is just doing the universe a favor.”
Mineta wisely does not speak up in his defense.
“There are ways…” Iida tries to argue before Uraraka pats him quietly on the hip. It’s enough to make him fall silent and sit down.
Personally, Izuku is still convinced they were dating no matter how much Iida denies it.
“Maybe it’s love!” Aoyoma cries, sitting up to let out a flutter of sparkles.
Hagakure squeals from her seat next to him. The arms of her uniform flailing up and down in agreement. “Like a fairy tale!”
“Beauty and the Beast!” Mina agrees, getting swept up in the sparkles as the three of them start talking over each other, painting a beautiful picture of a fair maiden calming the ravaging hurting beast within.
“But Kacchan is already very handsome,” Izuku mutters, taking it all in as he considers the ending of the acclaimed Disney movie he and Kacchan used to binge watch with subtitles (because sometimes the dubbing was cringy at best).
Uraraka laughs as she finishes off the last of her sandwich. “I don’t think that’s what they mean by beast.”
“I want to observe where it goes,” Tokoyami speaks up for the first time since lunch started. His deep voice cutting through the clutter. “I don’t see we have any right to keep them from being friends anyway.”
Iida goes to protest before falling quiet. “You’re right.”
Izuku stares up at his friend’s strangely flushed cheeks and chooses to keep quiet.
The rest of lunch is spent discussing the upcoming English exam.
.
Shouto finds them talking, huddled close together under the awning by the track field.
He’d escaped before the gossip and rumors of his classmates could draw him in. For all that Midoriya insisted he was a gossip, Shouto prided himself on basing his assumptions on facts.
So far they had no facts.
Still it had been jarring to hear Yaoyorozu curse, loud and fierce and so similar to Bakugou. It had been stranger even to hear that Bakugou and Yaoyorozu had spent the night cuddling on the sofa.
(And if his stomach twists when he thinks about it well… he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.)
As he turns the corner looking for a quiet place to eat, he sees them. Yaoyorozu has her back turned to him, her face bowed into Bakugou’s chest. Bakugou spies him for a moment before looking away, unconcerned.
He isn’t used to being ignored by Bakugou. It takes a moment to react.
He wants to walk over, to ask what's wrong. But the scene is too intimate to disturb, too personal. Instead he nods in acknowledgement (though he does not know if Bakugou sees it) and turns right, entering the gymnasium which is blessedly empty. Maybe after he eats he’ll do a few reps.
Surprisingly the walls are rather thin. As he takes a seat under the windows he hears Yaoyorozu speak.
“Maybe it was too much.”
“Stuff it Ponytail. Remember what she said.”
“How can I not?” There is a moment of silence where Shouto strains to hear clearer before she speaks again. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about…”
“... me too.”
“Have you…”
“I keep thinking what she meant?” Bakugou says. There is a smack against the wall like he’d punched it. “I get it that it’s important but I don't’... I don’t understand why it has to matter this much.”
“I care too much. You care too little.” Yaoyorozu says as if referencing something else.
There is another moment of silence.
“Lets try it for now.” Yaoyorozu says. “At least we can say we tried.”
Bakugou snorts, “Whatever.”
They leave shortly after. Shouto finds himself more confused than ever.
.
Bakugou corners Kirishima in the locker room before hero class.
“Hey bro!” Kirishima grins as he tugs on his undershirt. Behind Bakugou, Kirishima spies Sero sending him a thumbs up and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. His friends were ridiculous. “What’s up?”
Bakugou stays quiet for a moment, gaze boring into Kirishima’s eyes and he tries not to fidget under the weight. Bakubro has always been an intense guy. It is part of why he’s so manly. But he’s never been under such heavy scrutiny.
Perhaps this is what it meant to be the sole focus of Bakugou’s attention? No wonder Midoriya is such a jumpy guy.
“Thank you.”
“... huh?”
“Thank you,” Bakugou spits out, hands clasped in front of him so tight his knuckles are white.
Kirishima blinks at him in confusion. “Bakugou…”
“I- I,” Bakugou bites his lip like he’s at war with himself and for a moment Kirishima imagines he is. He knows his friend’s pride, both good and bad. He gestures for his their friends to go on before turning back to Bakugou. He waits.
“I appreciate our friendship,” Bakugou finally says after he collects himself. “I know I’m not-”
“Stop,” Kirishima holds up a hand and Bakugou stops. “I’m not your friend because I want your gratitude.”
“I know that,” Bakugou pout-scowls in that way he does. “I just--”
“I don’t know who put you up to this,” Kirishima continues as if he doesn’t hear him. In the emptiness of the locker room his voice seems to carry. “But I don’t need it.”
“No one put me up to this!” Bakugou cries, pout transforming into a proper scowl as he crosses his arms. He stands straight so he towers just an inch about Kirishima and steps closer. “No one can make me do what I don’t want to do, Shitty Hair. I’m doing this because you deserve it.”
Kirishima opens his mouth to argue but falls silent under the intensity of Bakugou’s resolve. Bakugou stops for a moment, a slight flush making its way across his cheeks as he glances away for a moment.
“Before I didn’t really have… friends. There was Deku but that’s… complicate.” Bakugou sighs, looking back down at Kirishima. “You’re a good person and I’m glad I know you.”
Kirishima doesn’t bother to fight the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. To just come right out and say it… Kirishima isn’t foolish enough to think Bakugou doesn’t mean it, either. He takes a deep breath and opens his arms. “I’m going to hug you now.”
“Shitty hair!” Bakugou cries, holding up his hands as if he can ward off the inevitable.
“It’s too late!” Kirishima cries, closing the distance between them in one large step. “We’re hugging!”
“God damn it, Kirishima!” Bakugou groans, twitching for a moment before finally settling. Going so far as to hug back. “... whatever.”
“I love you too, buddy,” Kirishima laughs, graciously not mentioning the burning red that has colored Bakugou’s ears.
.
Things become stranger once Aizawa sensei pairs Kacchan and Yaomomo during free spar. It’s not rare for Aizawa sensei to pit his students against each other. UA’s curriculum was made to breed friendly competition.
It is rare, however, for Yaomomo and Kacchan to fight against each other. Aizawa sensei must have noticed their growing closeness. Izuku takes a seat on the perimeter along with most of the class, some like Todoroki prefering to continue their warm ups.
It’s like watching strangers.
Izuku had watched Yaomomo spar with Uraraka last week. Her strength in strategy and creativity just enough to edge out a victory against Uraraka’s brute force and fighting spirit. But there had been hesitation bogging her limbs down and thoughtfulness that defined her choices, like watching an uncertain chess master attempting to direct a board.
Now there is no hesitation. Her movements are swift if not jerky. Her footwork impressive. She creates weapon after weapon, pistols and knives, and at one point a bazooka aimed at Kacchan’s face.
She does not care for property damage. Her strategy is not subtle. Raw force defines her fighting style. In this she is not the chess master but the queen slaughtering the board.
And Kacchan… Izuku knows Kacchan, has known him since his mother placed him next to Kacchan in the crib, only six weeks old. He’d been crying, according to his mother. His parents hadn’t been able to sooth him and they’d gone to the Bakugou’s in search of advice.
It had been Uncle Masaru’s suggestion to lie them next to each other. The minute Izuku’s palm had touched Kacchan’s hand, he’d stopped crying. It was also the first time Kacchan laughed.
Izuku does not know this Kacchan. Certainly, he recognizes most of his moves. The precision and control that defines Kacchan’s fighting style is still there, but instead of being hidden away under smoke and fire it is up front and present. Kacchan keeps his distance instead of rushing in. Half of the fight he spends in the air, maneuvering out of the way of Yaomomo’s projectiles and sending explosive shots from afar.
He keeps her dancing, keeps her on her toes while he puppeteers from above. If Yaomomo is the Queen then Kacchan is the clever horse, dancing just out of attack range. He sends her tripping over debris of her own making and ends the fight with a gauntlet aimed at her face.
She surrenders.
.
If anyone was hoping it was a one off, a strange mix up day, they are poorly mistaken. A week later and the newly founded best friends have yet to be explained.
Izuku doesn’t get a break.
Between Yaoyorozu and Bakugou, and Aizawa sensei’s pop quizzes, the gossip mill has been churning hard at UA. It helps that Yaoyorozu and Bakugou seem to be attached at the hip these days, sneaking off together during lunch and having to excuse themselves in class for mysterious phone calls.
And now this…
After class, Kacchan usually makes his way upstairs to complete his homework. If he’d decided to take pity on anyone and beat some necessary tutoring into their head, it’s in the privacy of his or their room.
Now Izuku watches Kacchan yell at Kaminari as Yaomomo directs Tooru through her history assignment.
“It’s very strange,” Iida comments from his seat next to Izuku in the kitchen.
Izuku slurps on his ramen forlornly. Besides him Todoroki eats a ham sandwich.
“You’re all being over dramatic.” Uraraka rolls her eyes. She’s made tea. A handful of crackers are scattered over the counter. So distracted, Iida doesn’t seem to have the heart to complain about crumbs.
“They are very different,” Todoroki comments, his first opinion about the situation.
“You know something,” Izuku accuses, green eyes narrowed as he scans his friend’s face for clues.
Todoroki says nothing and takes a large bite of ham.
Izuku lets his eyes drift back to the study group. Kacchan has stopped yelling. Kaminari shows him his work. Kacchan smiles.
There is a sharp crack and he looks down at his now broken chopsticks. “I’m losing him.”
“Oh dear,” Uraraka sighs.
“My first friend and I’m losing him,” Izuku wails, dropping his chopsticks to stare longingly into his instant ramen like it could hold the answers to his problem
“Who died?”
Izuku looks up and sees red hair before anything else. In his hand, Kirishima was holding Kacchan’s favorite sports drink.
“Izuku,” Uraraka jokes. Todoroki, the traitor, snickers.
Iida sighs.
“Is it Bakugou?” Kirishima asks, eyes knowing. Izuku pouts. What does he know? Izuku had seen them hugging in the locker room, lucky bastard.
He still remembers when Kacchan used to hug him. Elementary school had been so much more bearable than middle school.
“You should talk to him, dude,” Kirishima grins. “Take it from me, you might be surprised.”
Izuku snorts, bitter. Whatever good mood he’d started the day with had long disappeared. He is in mourning. “Kacchan is more likely to tell me to fuck off than talk to me.”
Kirishima stares at him for a moment in thoughtful silence and Izuku fights not to fidget. What is it with red-eyes and intense, knowing gazes?
“I’m gonna only tell you once as a bro,” Kirishima says, leaning forward as if to impart a great secret. Izuku notices Todoroki watching them carefully, the gossip. “Ask him for lunch.”
“Kirishima…”
“Trust me,” Kirishima urges, grabbing Izuku’s shoulder. “You won’t regret it.”
Izuku says nothing. Across the room, Kacchan lets Sero sling an arm around his shoulders.
By the time he gets a new pair of chopsticks, his instant ramen is cold.
.
Shouto doesn’t expect anyone else to be up when he comes down for a glass of water at half-past three in the morning.
Honestly, he could have just gotten something from the bathroom, but he’d needed the walk to clear his head. The lingering remnants of his nightmare like strands of cobwebs sticking to his skin.
“Bakugou,” he greets once his eyes adjust to the partial darkness to realize who is standing besides the microwave. His silhouette almost completely hidden if it were not for the spark in his crimson-red eyes that seemed to contain a light of their own.
He’s never really had a chance to look at Bakugou. Between the taunts and the fight and Shouto’s own desire to avoid unnecessary confrontation, he realizes he spends most of his time watching Bakugou’s hands, expressive and dangerous. Now he watches Bakugou lean against the fridge with his arms crossed; the microwave steadily humming besides him.
His eyes are a deeper red than Kirishima’s. Almost crimson.
“Todoroki,” Bakugou replies, head tilting to the side in greeting before returning to neutral. Shouto opens the lights but sets them to dim, afraid to break the ambiance, the feeling of peace they’ve found.
He doesn’t know if he’s ever spent this much time with Bakugou without fighting.
He has a rather handsome face when it is not twisted by a sneer or smirk (and even then, Shouto would be lying if there wasn’t a sort of appeal to all that confidence…).
Shouto gestures to the fridge and Bakugou shifts, moving to the otherside of the microwave before pressing his hip against the counter. “Don’t pretty boys need their beauty rest?”
It’s a backhanded way to ask if he’s alright, Shouto realizes. If he had the energy to maintain his guard as he usually does he might have missed it. But half asleep and shaken from the nightmare he cannot remember, it is hard to remember to be defensive. Now he looks at Bakugou as he pulls out his chocolate milk from the fridge and smiles, “I’m alright.”
Bakugou snorts and looks away, but in his profile Shouto can read the pleased little smile on his lips. “Not what I asked, Halfie.”
“And you? Someone as pretty as you must need as much sleep as possible,” Shouto teases, unsure where he finds the bravery but knows he wants to keep the conversation going.
The blush that paints Bakugou’s cheeks is too satisfying.
“Wha- I!” Bakugou cries, arms tightening across his chest. “Listen here! If you’re trying to pick a fight--”
“Are you okay?” Shouto asks, cutting him off. No. The last thing he wants is a fight. Their bubble is delicate and new. He wants to keep it.
For a moment, Bakugou seems to be at war with himself as he breathes slowly and audible. Shouto can practically hear him counting to ten in his mind.
“I’m fine,” Bakugou says, finally. The tension in his shoulders has fled and when he looks at Shouto his blush has gone down. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”
Shouto nods in understanding. “Nightmare,” he offers like an olive branch, potential for common ground.
Bakugou nods in return. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
The microwave beeps and Bakugou pulls out a bowl of what looks like stew. It smells heavenly. Shouto is sure he cooked it.
He bites his lip, debating, but really he’s already decided. “Want to watch a movie?” Shouto asks.
Bakugou doesn’t hesitate before agreeing. “Nothing crappy,” he says before gliding towards the living room.
Shouto is quick to follow.
.
Tooru doesn’t mean to interrupt their date night. She’d just needed homework help and Yaoyorozu has always been willing to help in the past.
When she’d seen the door slightly ajar, she’d been about to knock politely (and she had no matter what Bakugou insisted later) when she’d heard another voice, male and gravelly and definitely not Yaoyorozu through the crack.
“I know. I know. Get off my dick.”
Laughter. High and feminine. Apparently Yaoyorozu likes dick jokes. Tooru peers carefully through the crack. Being invisible only took you so far. Moving without making a sound or moving an object took a lot more body awareness than people realized.
Yaoyorozu was kneeling on her bed, head tipped back and her hair pulled away from her face. She couldn’t see Bakugou, but she could see his legs resting on either side of Yaoyorozu’s hips.
She bites her lip to keep quiet. Yuuga is never going to believe this!
“You promised,” Yaoyorozu says as a braid appears over her shoulder, tied off in a cheerful pusheen scrunchy. “I thought Bakugous didn’t lie.”
“We don’t,” Bakugou says, voice gruff and annoyed but not angry. Tooru realizes she hasn’t heard him scream all day. “I’ll do it. It’s just…”
“I know,” Yaoyorozu turns around, her back now facing the door. Tooru watches with baited breath as Bakugou’s arms come up to rest around Yaoyorozu’s shoulders.
She’s screaming Yuuga’s name the minute she enters the living room.
“You’re never going to believe what I just saw!” she cries, grabbing the other’s hands.
“Paint! Paint!” he cries as specks of freshly applied nail polish stain her fingers.
“Is everything alright?” Iida cries, marching forward.
“Everything is wonderful!” Tooru smiles, waving her arms energetically in the air to convey her joy. “Love is in the air!”
“Oh ho ho?” Yuuga laughs. “Have you stumbled upon something you shouldn’t have?”
“I might or might not have spied Yaoyorozu and Bakugou snuggling upstairs,” Tooru smirks, shrugging innocently.
“That is an invasion of privacy…” the class rep starts but Tooru is too high to be brought down by rules.
“Their door was open,” Tooru defends. “And besides! It’s love!”
“What’s this about love?” Midoriya asks, walking over to probably calm his friend. He had the patience of a saint as far as Tooru is concerned.
“Bakugou and Yaoyorozu are snuggling,” Todoroki says. When did he get here?
Midoriya’s face turns an unfortunate white. His green freckles starting to look more and more like the paint dying Tooru’s hands.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Uraraka decides. When did she get here?
“Does the lady protest too much?” Yuuga teases. “Perhaps Yaoyorozu is not the only one whose fallen for our gruffy beast?”
Uraraka scowls and rolls her eyes. Tooru hums thoughtfully. What a Bakugou thing to do?
“Bakubro is a surprisingly touchy guy,” Kirishima says arriving just as suddenly as the others. Honestly, Tooru sighs, maybe Aizawa sensei was right about her awareness… “He’s way more open to hugs lately.”
Midoriya launches into a unintelligible tangent that Tooru finds easy to block out. “But they’re cuddling!”
“According to you,” Todoroki sighs.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re biased,” Todoroki says, face carefully neutral. But she can see the way he fidgets with the edge of his sleeve just so. Anyone had a tell if you looked hard enough. “You want them to be dating.”
“I don’t think Yaoyorozu is Kacchan’s type,” Midoriya pipes in. Someone must have snapped him out of it. “I think Todoroki-kun is right. You want them to be dating.”
Tooru huffs, crossing her arms. “They’re dating and I’ll prove it.”
“Privacy…” the class prez starts.
“Yeah, yeah!” Tooru cuts him off with a dramatic wave of his hand. Beside her, Yuuga stares up at her knowingly. “My intel is never wrong. I’ll prove they’re dating. Just you see!”
And with a dramatic and unfortunately invisible hair flip, she walks away.
.
“Are you okay?”
Shouto freezes, heartbeat picking up speed as he feels Uraraka’s breath along the back of his neck. Where Izuku was intelligent, Uraraka was too observant. He had a feeling he wasn’t getting out of this one unscathed.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Shouto says, feigning ignorance.
Uraraka steps around him, eyes narrow. “You seemed awfully defensive back there.”
Shouto flushes, “I just thought she was wrong.”
“Thought or wanted?” Uraraka asks.
Shouto shrugs.
“It’s kind of cool that Momo has started to stand up for herself isn’t it?” Uraraka smirks. “Seems Bakugou is a good influence on her.”
Shouto nods, fingers tensing. He feels like he’s under interrogation. That had been a hard week of classes.
“It seems she’s finally gaining that confidence she needed,” Uraraka continues. “Seems Bakugou was just the sort of partner she needed.”
Shouto scowls, “You’re being mean.”
Uraraka pause and then deflates. “I’m just worried.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Todoroki defends, opening up the textbooks he’d brought with him. They had an exam in english coming up.
“It wouldn’t kill you to talk about your emotions,” she reminds him as if they hadn’t had this conversation a thousand times before.
“Can’t you talk to Iida?” Shouto pouts. “I’m sure he’s having a great time.”
“He’s not the one who told me they have a crush on Yaoyorozu Momo,” Uraraka reminds him. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
He sighs. “I heard them talking over lunch by accident. Apparently, they’re trying something new.”
“Trying something new?”
“Someone gave them advice,” Shouto shrugs, keeping his eyes trained on his textbooks, unable to read anything. “Yaoyorozu cares too much. Bakugou cares too little.”
“So you don’t think they’re together?” Uraraka asks.
Shouto shakes his head. “No they’re friends. No matter what Aoyama insists.”
“So then why are you upset?” she asks.
He bites his lip and shrugs.
Uraraka waits.
Finally he sighs and looks up at her big brown eyes. “I think I like Yaoyorozu.”
Uraraka raises an eyebrow. “I know that…”
“And Bakugou,” Todoroki continues. “I think I like them both.”
“... Really?”
“He’s very handsome when he smiles,” Shouto admits. “And she’s beautiful when she’s confident.”
Uraraka sighs and pats him consolingly on the back. “Oh dear.”
That felt about right.
.
In the end Kacchan comes to him before he can work up the nerve.
He’d thought about what Kirishima had said, he’d considered it. But he’s scared.
After their fight in Ground Beta and the conversation with All Might, Izuku has been enjoying the steady peace they’ve found, the almost friendship they’d been inching towards. Izuku isn’t a fool. No matter what he’d dreamed of as a child, no matter how much he might long for it now, he doubts he and Kacchan can ever find the closeness they had as children before quirks and misunderstanding tore them apart.
But now that Kacchan is changing again, this time with Izuku only capable of watching from a distance, he can feel that almost friendship starting to crumble. Kacchan is leaving him, finding new people (Kirishima and Yaomomo and Ashido and more) who can keep up. He doesn’t need to wait for Deku to catch up.
All Might had claimed them rivals, had insisted they needed each other to become better. But maybe Kacchan has found that in Yaomomo. Maybe… So lost in thought he doesn’t notice someone screaming his name until Kacchan has a fiery hand gripping his shoulder.
“Deku!” Kacchan cries, face inches from his own.
Deku squeaks, throwing himself backwards as he tries to regain control of his flailing limbs. “Kacchan! Don’t sneak up on people.”
“Sneak up… Shitty nerd I’ve been calling you name. Did you not hear me?” Kacchan pouts, a barely there pruse of his lower lip as he narrows his eyes. “What were you thinking about?”
Deku shrugs, rubbing his hot shoulder. His clothes aren’t burnt, not even smoking.
“You were muttering and I heard my name,” Kacchan says, stepping forward.
Deku is not the same middle schooler who would flinch away from Kacchan’s assessing stare. He looks up and shrugs. “Lost in thought.”
“I’ve noticed you watching me,” Kacchan says.
Deku can feel the back of his neck getting clammy. “Lots of people have been,” he defends. “No one thought you and Yaomomo would become friends.” I hadn’t thought…
Kacchan rolls his eyes and looks away first. Kacchan never looks away first, not if it’s a competition. He hates losing.
Unless he didn’t think it was a competition. Is Izuku not worth fighting against anymore?
Izuku feels his shoulder’s slump as he curls in on himself, mind racing. What is his relationship with Kacchan if they no longer had their rivalry to cling to? What if…
“Nerd!” Kacchan claps his hands together, bringing Izuku back to the present. “Damn it, is that what this is all about?”
Izuku groans. What did he say out loud?
“...She was right,” Kacchan mumbles before an arm reaches out and Izuku finds himself wrapped in a semi-awkward one-armed hug.
“Yaomomo?” Izuku asks as he waits for his brain to reboot. The arm around his shoulder tightens and he lets himself be dragged closer, trying and failing not to melt into the heat against his side. Kacchan had always run a little hot.
“No, someone else,” Kacchan says, voice oddly distant as Izuku dares to wrap an arm around his lower back.
It’s the first hug they’ve shared since they were probably eight.
“I’m not leaving you,” Kacchan says after a moment of letting Izuku bask in their shared physical contact. “I’m just trying out some advice.”
“Why Yaomomo?” Izuku asks because he has to.
“We’re in the same boat,” Izuku feels more than sees Kacchan shrug. “I don’t care enough. She cares too much. We’re trying something new.”
Izuku thinks about it for a moment, making sure to keep his mouth shut. “Is it working?”
“... yeah,” Kacchan says. Izuku feels the arm fall away and mourns for the briefest of seconds before turning to the side to meet Kacchan’s eyes dead on. “We’re still… something.”
Izuku nods, grinning. Something . He can work with that.
“We okay?” Kacchan asks, the faintest of pinks dusting his cheeks.
Izuku’s grin grows wider. “We’re okay.”
.
Shouto walks quietly besides Yaoyorozu as they head towards the train. She’s chewing bubble gum. It’s not something particularly interesting, but it stands out.
It’s a loud chew. The constant clenching of her jaw interrupted by the few times she blows a bubble big enough to pop.
It’s not the only loud thing about her today.
Her wardrobe, usually bordering on the professional with conservative blouses and fashionable shorts, screams color today. A bright yellow shirt and tight fitted jeans. Her cardigan is covered in bold saturated flowers. Feminine and almost childish. Playful.
Even her walk seems to have a skip in it.
“A good day?” he asks, shifting the box he’s carrying. In her own arms she held the shopping bags from the dorm’s latest grocery run while Shouto carried the new humidifier.
She hums in agreement, tilting to the right to look back at him. Her shoes are black, mid-calf with red laces. They wouldn’t look out of place in Bakugou’s wardrobe.
He wonders when they had a chance to go shopping together.
“I think so,” she smiles, wide and bright. He thought he knew her smiles. The delicate pull of lips, the humorous smirk she sometimes dared to show. It is only looking at her now that he realizes she was holding back.
Expressive. That is what Bakugou has helped her find. She has made him calm (Shouto’s mind wanders to their frequent late-night movie marathons). He has made her expressive.
“I’m happy you two became friends,” Shouto says, jogging forward until he is walking side by side next to her. His own smile grows to match hers. “You have a very beautiful smile.”
She does not blush or stutter. She does not turn away. Instead she straightens to her full height and walks with her head held high. “I know.”
.
Shouta knows something strange has happened to his kids. It’s easy to see the tension in the air and the way everyone’s attention seems to gravitate to his top two students.
Still he doesn’t expect Bakugou and Yaoyorozu to stand up halfway through math class, walk to the front of the class, and make an announcement.
“Because you extras won’t lay off,” Bakugou starts, voice harsh and boarding on a scream, before Yaoyorozu gently jabs him in the side. When he speaks again his voice is noticably calmer. “We have an announcement to make.”
Shouta has half a mind to demand they take their seats before thinking better of it. He sits down at his desk and waits to see where this goes.
“We are just friends,” Yaoyorozu says, standing to her full height, a good two inches about Bakugou. “So please stop asking us invasive questions or spying on us during lunch or passing notes to us in class.”
“We’re not going to tutor you if you’re not trying,” Bakugou threatens.
“But why!” Tooru cries from her seat. Arms raised above her head. “Since when?”
“Are you lovers?” Ashido cries.
“Hell no!” Bakugou snears. “Momo is just cool. We don’t have to explain ourselves to you.”
“Katsuki is a very good person and someone I admire,” Yaoyorozu adds. “His friendship is valuable to me.”
“Yeah! You’re just afraid of our team up because we’ll crush you,” Bakugou grins, feral.
Yaoyorozu holds her hand out for a high five and Bakugou happily complies.
Shouta can feel his classroom about to explode and stands up. “If that is all,” he says, keeping his voice and expression as bored as possible despite the amusement he feels. “Can we return to our lesson? Or does anyone else want to waste more time?”
Wisely no one speaks up. Bakugou shoots him a smirk and Yaoyorozu nods her head in thanks.
His kids can work off their excess energy in PE anyway.
.
Later that day Katsuki joins her at their spot behind the gym,
“So are we ever going to thank her?” Momo asks, punching a hole in her juice box before taking a loud, noisy sip. First thing she’d learned after she started sharing lunch with Katsuki, fastest way to let him know she’d like what he’d backed is to eat as noisy and quickly as possible.
“I’m not thanking a villain.” Bakugou snaps, taking his half of the egg roll. “Even if she was right.”
Momo shrugs, “Fair. Maybe just a fruit basket in prison?”
“An anonymous fruit basket,” Katsuki grins, clipping his chopsticks at her in mock threat before returning to his egg.
“Look at us,” Momo giggles. “Compromising.”
“A fucking miracle,” Katsuki laughs.