Work Text:
The Hero Course was fucking exhausting, in all the best ways.
Don’t get him wrong, Hitoshi was not complaining. He was exactly where he wanted to be, working toward the dream he had always had and, after months of being trained by Aizawa-sensei (Eraserhead!!!), he was running beside the 1-A (now 2-A) kids instead of stumbling behind them. Although he guesses he can’t really say ‘those 2-A kids’ anymore, considering he was now one of them.
The Hero Course worked him just as hard as he thought it would and then some; every Heroics class left him sore, sweaty, and satisfied in a way that only progress and hard work could. Unlike some of the others, he never breathed a word of complaint about being run ragged by training. He had worked way too fucking hard just to get here; he wasn’t about to bitch about putting in the work.
One would think that with relentless days of training, plus his own individual workouts that he wasn’t planning on cutting out anytime soon, he should be tired enough to collapse in his dorm and sleep through the night every night. And he’s sure that if it were anyone but him, he would. But Hitoshi had had horrific insomnia since before he even stepped foot in UA, and it didn’t look like training was going to be helping him sleep, despite how tired he was.
All of this led to him leaning against the kitchen counters at somewhere around 3 am, watching the water for his hot chocolate heat up with dull eyes. It was Friday night and, given that he never wanted to spend a minute more with his foster parents than was required by law, he had elected to stay the weekend at the dorms. Just like the weekend before, and the weekend before that, all the way from the start of joining Class A. He was probably going to get some questions about that at some point, if the way Aizawa-sensei side-eyed him when he signed his name in the ‘staying’ portion of the sign-out sheet this week again said anything, but whatever.
He’d deal with that problem when he had to, and not a second before. He honestly couldn’t be bothered right now.
He was one of the two students who had stayed this weekend, though if his eavesdropping the day before was sound, Bakugou stayed weekends frequently because his super-rich parents took a lot of business trips. He’s almost sure he would rather just stay at his house alone, but given that Class A attracts villains like flies to honey, UA wouldn’t allow anyone to stay home alone on weekends. It’s not like he had to worry about him anyway; they both either stayed in their rooms or out of the dorm if they were there alone, so they barely ever even saw each other. Besides, it’s not like Grandpa Bakugou would be up at 3 am.
Or so he thought.
He was proven wrong by the sound of stomping footsteps from the stairway, because he was sure that Bakugou couldn’t do anything quietly, and muttered cursing all the way to the kitchen entrance. Hitoshi slowly turned his gaze from the kettle to the hothead of Class A, standing there in all his angry, sleep-mussed glory. He didn’t see what Bakugou had to be irritated about, because he knew he wasn’t being loud and even if he was, Bakugou was three floors above and couldn’t possibly hear him.
He couldn’t say he minded his sudden appearance, though. Bakugou was wearing nothing but low-hung sweatpants and the motherfucker was way too attractive for his own good.
“Enjoying the view, Mindfuck?” He sneered, shoving past him none-too-gently to get to the fridge. Hitoshi was, in fact, enjoying the view, but he had a feeling that saying that would just set off a fight that he did not have the energy for at 3:30 in the morning, so he just shrugged, saved from answering by the beep of the kettle.
He made his hot chocolate silently, ignoring the quiet scoff that seemed as loud as thunder in the empty building when Bakugou saw he was using instant, and retreated to sit on a stool while the blonde made his own hot drink of choice, which turned out to be tea. Huh. He didn’t really take him as a tea drinker but what did he really know about the guy? It wasn’t like their friend circles ever really interacted besides sharing living space, and since he mainly hung out with Midoriya and Bakugou made it his personal mission to be as far as he could from Midoriya at all times, they never had a chance to interact.
You couldn’t blame him for taking a chance to observe the guy. All he knew about him before joining the Hero Course was from what he saw during the Sports Festival (and let’s not open that can of worms right now), but the Bakugou then compared to the Bakugou now was almost entirely different, if you could notice the subtleties. He was still loud and obnoxious, but he was...calmer now, halfway into their second year. He still worked just as hard as the rest of them, and a little bit harder sometimes because he was nothing if not a perfectionist, but he wasn’t chomping at the bit to prove he was the best and leaving everyone in the dirt behind him. Hitoshi remembered hearing through the grapevine at one point that he had started going to therapy. Good for him.
Still, he can’t remember ever actually talking to the guy outside of training, so he wasn’t quite familiar with this new Bakugou. He considered himself good at reading people; practically had to be if he was ever planning on using his quirk effectively, so he could tell that while Bakugou wasn’t angry right now he did seem...frustrated. His shoulders were tense where he was making his tea with slightly jerky movements, and Hitoshi could see the tight line of his jaw even from where he was sitting.
“Can’t sleep?” He asked, rather redundantly, but the thick silence between them was starting to grate on him. Bakugou scoffed, turning around and leaning against the counter with his tea in hand. “Fuckin’ obviously.” He grunted, taking a sip and not seeming to care that it was still steaming.
“Same.”
Wow, Hitoshi. Your social skills never fail to amaze.
Bakugou raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, as if he couldn’t understand his stupidity, before looking back at his tea. He looked tired, which was odd since Bakugou never really looked anything other than perfect, sloppy school uniform notwithstanding. He couldn’t ever remember seeing him with eyebags like he had right now, sluggishness dragging every movement as he tapped his finger incessantly against the side of his cup. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look energized and exhausted at the same time, but Bakugou seemed to be pulling it off.
“What’s keeping you up?” He asked. Bakugou shot him a glare but it didn’t look like his heart was in it, turning away to glare out at the dark common room instead. He thought that he would eventually tell him to fuck off and stomp back up to his own room, but there was something weird about the space they were in right now, alone in a silent building with the clock creeping towards 4 am. Some sort of liminal space that made everything shift just slightly to the left, including the people in it.
“Fuckin’,” He started, cutting himself off with a frustrated sigh. “Can’t calm down. M’ just keyed up.” Hitoshi could believe that, could see the manic energy in the way he tapped his cup and his leg jiggled silently against the counters. He wondered if it was some sort of side effect of his quirk, if that’s why he seemed so worked up all day every day. Or maybe it was just a bout of restlessness that sometimes hits in the middle of the night, that kinda mood where you wanna run or laugh or scream at the top of your lungs. He didn’t get those very often, thank god, but Bakugou seemed like the type to.
“I’d usually go for a run, but I know hobo-fucker has motion sensors on the front door.” He grumbled. ‘Hobo-fucker’ he mouthed to himself, hiding his snicker in his mug, knowing Bakugou would probably take it the wrong way. He wondered if he ever called anyone by their given name.
Bakugou looked back at him, cocking a brow but not bothering to verbally ask him. Hitoshi shrugged. “Just regular insomnia. Had it all my life.”
Bakugou snorted, draining the rest of his tea. “That why you look like a fucking zombie half the time?”
Hitoshi gave him a proper Aizawa grin, reveling in the raspy chuckle he got in return, and somewhere in his mind a distant alarm started going off. As they continued bantering over the dregs of his hot chocolate, he got the vague notion that he should turn back and flee upstairs, an inkling that something was going to happen soon that he couldn’t take back.
Maybe it was his exhaustion or the general recklessness that all of Class A seemed to share, but he elected to ignore it.
That reason, along with a slew of other tiny decisions over the next few minutes, led to him pressing Bakugou down into his sheets while the other did his best to kiss the life out of him. He vaguely remembered the conversation that brought them here, something about “blowing off steam” and “tiring him out”, but he couldn’t find himself caring that much as he slipped a hand up Bakugou’s shirt, ghosting over muscles and hard nipples and practically devouring the gasp that was wrenched from his partner in return.
Bakugou, or Katsuki as he insisted when Hitoshi was two fingers deep in him, seemed utterly enthusiastic about where the night had gone, so he didn’t worry too much about it. He wasn’t going to complain about getting to fuck a hot guy and who knows? It might actually do as intended and let him sleep some tonight.
Katsuki’s loudness transferred into the bedroom, to Hitoshi’s delight and a bit of smug satisfaction. He was glad the dorm was empty tonight, since he was keen on keeping all of Katsuki’s moans and pretty whines to himself, even though he lived on what he deemed the “mind your own business” floor. Hitoshi’s dorm was between Satou and the wall, so the only ones who might hear would be him, Todoroki, or Sero. The only one who might say something would be Todoroki since he loved to piss off Bakugou in any way possible, but he spent most of his nights in Midoriya’s room so Hitoshi didn’t think he had any room to talk.
Or maybe Shouji with the room under him, but he was honorably included in the “mind your business” club.
Thankfully the surrounding rooms were empty tonight, and there was no one else to hear as Hitoshi fucked Katsuki into the mattress.
Once they both finished (Katsuki first, he made sure), they flopped down on Hitoshi’s twin bed, pressed sticky together since they were both too big to be sharing without some measure of cuddling. They were both silent as they caught their breath, and he was starting to feel the barest beginnings of awkwardness before Katsuki (or was he Bakugou now? Was Katsuki only allowed when they were fucking?) stumbled to his feet and yanked his boxers and sweats back on. He hobbled to the door, pausing long enough for Hitoshi to admire the hickeys dotting his neck before he turned back.
“Thanks.” He said, and left without another word.
He could do nothing but laugh and shove his face back into his pillow, barely a few minutes before he passed out and slept until late morning.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the weekend, despite how the lingering ache in the scratches on his back made him want to seek Bakugou out again. It was probably only a one-time thing, one fantastic fuck to blow off steam. It probably wouldn’t happen again.
Until it did.
It was Wednesday night of the following week, and most of the class was gathered in the common room to watch a movie. Hitoshi had tried joining them at first, but found he wasn’t in the mood for a big group and retreated to the kitchen to grab water before heading up to his dorm. He’d probably work ahead on some homework before attempting to sleep.
He was just about to head out of the kitchen when Bakugou stumbled in, that same tension in his shoulders as last time, having opted out of movie night to go to sleep early like he usually did. It didn’t seem to have worked. He locked eyes with Hitoshi and just stared for a long minute, before raising a brow and jerking his chin at the elevator. They left the kitchen silently, unnoticed by their classmates wrapped up in their shitty rom-com of choice.
They had to be quieter this time with the rest of the class in the dorm, so Katsuki laid on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and his hands in the sheets as Hitoshi fucked him in a steady rhythm that had him biting the pillow. Hitoshi latched his mouth onto the back of Katsuki’s neck, muffling his own moans in the hickeys he was refreshing and adding to from the last time.
Katsuki came with a whine, Hitoshi with a groan, and Bakugou walked out without another word.
Just like that, it became a thing. Bakugou always sought him out on the nights he couldn’t sleep or when he had trouble falling asleep or, on one memorable occasion, when his early morning run wasn’t enough to sate him. He woke Hitoshi up before six just so he could ride his dick until he was crying, biting his lip bloody to stay quiet and not wake anyone else on Hitoshi’s floor.
It got to the point where he was sure Katsuki was getting more out of this than he was; it was a little hard to ignore when he dragged Hitoshi into a janitor's closet during lunch to suck him off and left before he could return the favor. He knew the sex was good but he didn’t think it was that good, but fuck if he was going to complain. He was sleeping better than he had in years and he was getting mind-blowing orgasms as a bonus.
It was an honest-to-god miracle that no one had noticed yet. They weren’t going around shouting it from the rooftops or anything, but neither he nor Bakugou bothers to hide the hickeys and scratches and bite marks when they were in the locker room, and with them all packed into the dorms like sardines there was no way at least one person hadn’t heard them yet, no matter how quiet they tried to be.
Shouji could make extra ears and lived under him. He probably heard a lot of shit in the dorms though, and he wasn’t the type to gossip, so he probably hadn’t told anyone. (Except Tokoyami. Maybe. He didn’t really know what was going on there but it was definitely something.)
But no one said anything, so neither did he, content to let this new part of his life slip into the same routine as anything else. He goes to class, trains, eats, sleeps, and sometimes he fucks Bakugou. It became as normal, as familiar, as his morning coffee, so he lets it be.
Until Bakugou knocks on his door at 2 am, shaking and face streaked with tears. Something told him that Bakugou probably wished he hadn’t managed to get to sleep tonight.
He fists his hands into Hitoshi’s shirt, pushing him backward and closing the door with his foot. He didn't stop until he was sitting on the edge of his bed with Bakugou practically scrambling into his lap. He was trembling, breath hitching on sobs as he tucked his face into Hitoshi’s neck, fists tight in his shirt and pulling him closer, closer, closer.
“Please.” He whispered, soft and desperate and ragged. ”Please.”
He didn’t say anything more, and he didn’t need to. Hitoshi knew what he needed.
It was different that night. Sex between them was usually fast, rough, passionate, scratching and sucking and biting, but tonight was different. It had to be because that was what Katsuki needed, and Hitoshi didn’t have a second thought about giving it to him. He laid him on his back like he was precious, irreplaceable, sliding his clothes off with reverence and working him open gently, a symphony of gasps and whines in his ear as he did.
He stroked his face with soft hands as he slid inside, brushing away tears and holding him as he started moving. There was not an inch of them that wasn’t touching, locked together by Katsuki’s legs tight around his waist, heavy arms around his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from watery red eyes, at some point his own tearing up to match. They rocked together, hungry and grasping, and he kissed the whine right out of Katsuki’s mouth as he brought them both over the edge.
Katsuki was still shaking after they caught their breath, and he barely managed to convince him to let go long enough for Hitoshi to clean them up before he was yanking him back in with greedy hands, tucking his face into Hitoshi’s neck like it belonged there. He slung an arm and leg over him, clutching tight like he was trying to burrow into his skin, and Hitoshi held him back just as hard, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, lulling him to sleep.
Katsuki made no move to leave. Hitoshi wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to let him.
And when he woke up to a head of blonde hair laying over his heart, entwined so tightly that he didn’t dream of trying to separate them, Hitoshi knew that he was in trouble.
~
Things shifted after that, like a thunderstorm shifts to summer rain. Katsuki refused to meet his eyes the day after that night, but he seemed to be over it two days later, softly knocking on his door that Saturday and throwing himself back into their usual passionate affair. They were both out of breath by the end, and Hitoshi took his mumbled excuse of being too tired to go back to his own room without a word, simply looping his arms around Katsuki’s waist and tucking his face into his back.
There was a whole slew of new things in their….relationship? Situationship? Absolute clusterfuck of a mess? Staying the night became the norm, so much so that Katsuki started bringing his phone so he could keep up with his morning run (and sneaking out of Hitoshi’s room undetected). Hitoshi never breathed a word about the change, too afraid of scaring Katsuki away and losing the new intimacy. He’d never admit it, but waking up with Katsuki tucked under his chin was becoming his new favorite feeling.
The sex changed too. It was still hot and hard sometimes, on those restless and sleepless nights especially, but sometimes it was tender and slow, like the night Katsuki had a nightmare. Sleeping over led to sleepy morning sex, hazy eyes and heavy fingers, fumbling with the lube and making Katsuki laugh in a low, rough purr that set all his nerves alight. There was happy sex, angry sex, desperate sex, laughing sex, lazy sex…
And after all of it, Katsuki would always curl into him like he was pointing True North, like his head over Hitoshi’s heart was home.
Hitoshi wasn’t falling at this point. He had already jumped.
If anything confirmed it, it was the night Hitoshi had a nightmare instead of his bedmate. He had come to learn that Katsuki had a lot of nightmares, even though he’d told him that they had gotten a lot better since they started sharing a bed, but honestly, that only made him more worried. If Katsuki was having nightmares at least three times a week (and he was not keeping track, shut the fuck up) and that was better, how bad was it before?
Hitoshi rarely had nightmares (thank gods, he barely got enough sleep as is) but whenever he did they were bad. By the time he was fully conscious he was already clawing at his face, desperately trying to yank off the muzzle he knew, logically, wasn’t there. He still couldn’t pry his lips apart anyway, locked together with fear, and breathing through his nose wasn’t enough to calm him down.
He was just about to break skin when rough palms grabbed his hands, gently but firmly keeping them away from his face. He wanted to say something, apologize for waking Katsuki or make some weak quip about the tears streaking down his face, but he still couldn’t open his fucking mouth oh gods he can’t breathe-
A hand came up to turn his head, and in the next second Katsuki was sealing their lips in a soft, insistent kiss. His mouth opened on instinct, baring every part of himself for Katsuki, always, placing his very breath in his hands. Katsuki kept the pace slow, languidly kissing him and letting him gasp his breath back, putting one of the hands he was still holding over his chest to feel a steady heartbeat, only breaking away when Hitoshi’s breath was somewhat steady.
Katsuki kept their foreheads pressed together, one hand holding Hitoshi’s over his heart and the other stroking his cheek, soothing and repetitive. He let himself lean into it, let Katsuki wrap an arm around him and lower them both back into bed. It seemed like ages before he could open his mouth again. “Katsuki.” He said, ragged and worn.
“Sleep.” And he did.
He woke up what felt like minutes later, heart sinking at the familiar tone for Katsuki’s morning run alarm. They had shifted to spooning in their sleep, his face buried in Katsuki’s hair, and he was half-tempted to lock his arms around the blond’s waist and not let him go. He felt raw and...needy, in a way that made him want to simultaneously shove Katsuki away and pull him impossibly closer. Barring either of those, he just didn’t want to let him go.
Turns out he didn’t need to worry, because the alarm only got to its fourth ring before Katsuki’s arm shot out and turned it off, turning around huffily to shove his face into Hitoshi’s collarbone. Hitoshi, sleep-heavy and touch-starved, merely tucked him closer and said, “Don’t you need to go?”
“No.” Katsuki didn’t seem keen on elaborating, just slipping his arms under Hitoshi’s tank and up his back. He let his lips curl into a sleepy smile, pushed away all the incessant thoughts about what the hell they were doing, and pressed a barely-there kiss to Katsuki’s brow.
“Thanks, baby.” Katsuki shuddered, and he thought he might’ve pushed it too far, but then he just wormed himself closer, hands gripping his back and shirt, breath hot on his neck.
“Sleep, dumbass.” He said, not a hint of malice or insult in his voice, and Hitoshi let himself fall back into it.
Oh yeah. He was completely fucked.
~Bonus~
He didn’t know what time it was when he came back, only that he was laid out on Katsuki’s chest, this time, and there was a soothing hand running through his hair. Hitoshi thought he’d rather die than move right now so he stayed where he was, in Katsuki’s arms, in Katsuki’s bed, in Katsuki’s room. He could hear their classmates rising and shuffling around in their rooms, everyone having stayed the weekend for stealth training that night, and wondered if the thought of the Bakusquad bursting into the room (as they often did, one of the main reasons they usually stayed in Hitoshi’s room) freaked Katsuki out, even a little.
That same “what are we” question came floating back up in the hazy morning sunlight, curled under the covers with the boy he was pretty sure he was in love with, and he let his mind run away with it. Hitoshi always thought actions spoke louder than words, and people love to lie, and he was pretty sure Katsuki agreed. There had been no declarations of feelings between them, no attempt to define what was happening. He knew how they started, stress relief and sleep and restlessness-what was the term? Fuckbuddies?
He was pretty sure fuckbuddies didn’t call each other sweet names, or cuddle in the afterglow and fall asleep together, or hold each other through nightmares. He was sure that fuckbuddies didn’t spend nearly every night in the same bed, and didn't purposefully not go home on the weekends just to stay with each other. He was sure fuckbuddies didn’t stroke each other's hair back and whisper reassurances in the dark nights.
He was pretty sure, at this point, they weren’t fuckbuddies. The question still remained of what they actually were, though.
He got his answer soon enough, hearing the pounding of feet outside Katsuki’s door just before it swung open, what sounded like the entirety of the Bakusquad piling in with it. “Hey, Bakubro-” Kirishima was cut off with an almost violent hiss from the blond he was laying on, and Hitoshi couldn’t resist the urge to crack his eyes open enough to spy.
Mina was absolutely grinning, the gossipmonger that she was, with Kaminari covering his mouth and Sero smirking behind her. Kirishima seemed to be in shock, mouth falling open and silently pointing to Hitoshi’s lanky body sprawled atop the class hothead.
“He had a bad nightmare last night and I swear if you feral fucks wake him up I will end you.”
Mina let out a hysterical giggle, quickly cutting herself off after whatever look Katsuki sent her. Kirishima closed his mouth, opened it, and shut it again, either unsure of what to say or unwilling to tempt Katsuki’s temper. Kaminari had no such reservations.
“What is going on here, Kacchan? Having a sneaky little weekend hook-up?” He looked like he had just gotten the best news of his life, and Mina was trying to subtly fish her phone out of her back pocket.
He felt Katsuki’s breath hitch before he seemed to steel himself, arms tightening around Hitoshi’s waist and back.
“What I do with my boyfriend is none of your fucking business, sparky.”
“Boyfriend?” Sero wheezed, choking on his spit. Kaminari whistled lowly as Kirishima sputtered, all of them intent on testing the ‘quiet’ rule Katsuki had put in place, and he could feel the tension in the air that preceded a million questions before the silence was broken by the unmistakable ‘click’ of a camera shutter.
“So help me god, raccoon eyes, if you don’t delete that-”
“Make sure you come down for breakfast!” Kirishima said, louder than he probably meant to before he shoved the group out the door and closed it behind them. Katsuki let out a massive sigh, part aggravated and part resigned before a ping went off on both their phones. He had no doubt the picture of them cuddling and their new relationship status was just sent to the group chat, and the resulting influx of pings from their phones caused Katsuki to reach over and mute both of them.
By the time he turned back, Hitoshi had already propped his head up on Katsuki’s chest, looking at him with sleepy eyes and a disgustingly soft smile. “We should go eat.” He rasped. Katsuki grunted in agreement, running a hand mindlessly through Hitoshi’s hair. He pushed into the touch with a sigh, closing his eyes and basking in it before cracking one of them back open. “Gotta make sure my boyfriend starts out the day with a full stomach.”
He gave him a look reminiscent of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, wide-eyed and face flushed, before he let it fall into a cocky smirk. Hitoshi couldn’t stop himself from returning it if he wanted to, which he didn’t, so he settled for reaching up and stealing a kiss instead.