Work Text:
Hitoshi was a practiced kind of quiet when he reentered the dark bedroom, having just swapped his sweatshirt and shorts for his hero suit and his Invisalign for his Persona Chords.
He spent the night at Bakugo’s again- third time this week.
It was definitely becoming a thing, to the point where even Kaminari was starting to make fun of him for it (and Aizawa was definitely getting suspicious, but Hitoshi didn’t want to talk about that right now).
He took a seat on the edge of the bed, and he couldn’t suppress his grin when Bakugo reached an unsteady hand out when he felt the mattress dip.
“Katsuki,” Hitoshi whispered into his ear. Then he puffed his cheeks when Bakugo immediately scrunched his shoulders up to his neck like he was trying to get Hitoshi away from him (rude), mumbling nonsense under his breath.
“Kats, babe, I need you to wake up for me,” he said a little more insistently, sliding his fingers into the blonde’s hair. “Just for a minute.”
Bakugo made a frustrated noise that ended up just sounding kind of pathetic, but he still uncoordinatedly pushed himself up onto an elbow, rubbing at his eye with a closed fist as he yawned and glared up at Hitoshi.
It was bold of Bakugo to act irritated as if the deranged man weren’t the one always demanding Hitoshi to wake him before he left.
“Work?” Bakugo asked roughly, his voice clotted and slow.
“Unfortunately,” Hitoshi murmured back, smiling a little.
He knew he had an unhealthy obsession with antagonizing his boyfriend when he found himself in situations like this one. Ones where Bakugo was tired, or upset, or sick, and he needed a slightly lighter touch.
Because these were the same times when Bakugo was being all pouty and pitiful and so infuriatingly adorable that Hitoshi felt like he had to be annoying just to piss the blonde off and have him knock Hitoshi’s brain back into place- back from wherever the sight of Bakugo’s soft, squishy face had punted it.
Ugh, Hitoshi wanted to pinch his cheeks so badly.
Bakugo rested his head on his bent arm, reaching the other out to paw at Hitoshi’s. He mumbled, “You comin’ over tonight?” as he laced their fingers together.
Hitoshi didn’t even have to think about it- Kaminari could tease him as much as he wants.
“Should be,” Hitoshi murmured, tilting his head as he ran his nails over Bakugo’s scalp- the way that made the blonde breathe out a sigh and nuzzle his face into the pillows. “I might make it before dinner, but don’t count on it.”
And Hitoshi would never verbally describe the sound Bakugo made when he was tired and disappointed as a whine (even though it totally was, he just couldn’t risk saying so out loud).
Bakugo rolled onto his side, pining Hitoshi’s arm beneath his neck and pulling the purple-hair down to lay next to him.
“You avoiding me or something?” Bakugo asked quietly, brushing their noses together and lazily hitching a thigh over Hitoshi’s hip.
“Now, why would I ever go and do something crazy like that?” Hitoshi breathed back, running his hand over the blonde’s ass to grip at his thigh.
Hitoshi literally couldn’t think of a single situation where he’d ever actually avoid Bakugo. Even when they were fighting, they were still drawn to each other in the mildly unhealthy way where they’d meet just to argue, make out, argue some more (much more physically this time), and then rivals-to-lovers style hate-fuck until they were actually talking while they sat in the bath afterwards.
Sex just made them both soft for each other- it might not be healthy, but it worked for them.
“Dunno,” Bakugo mumbled, kissing Hitoshi once. “Maybe you hate me or something.”
“Perish the thought,” Hitoshi laughed. “Pro hero Dynamight- in my bed?” He wrapped his arms around Bakugo tightly, causing the blonde to squirm uncomfortably in his hold. “I’m living the dream of every 16-year-old girl that hates their dad.”
Bakugo huffed out a small laugh at that, rolling his eyes as he pushed his elbows out to try and loosen Hitoshi’s grip on him. “Are you a teenage girl with daddy issues now?”
Hitoshi smirked, looking down at him. “Would you like me like that, Katsuki?” he asked lowly. And he knew he was pushing it, but he still tacked on, “Is it the skirt that you want?”
Bakugo shoved at him very roughly. “Don’t go pissing me off so early in the damn morning!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Hitoshi said in defeat, letting his arms fall from around him. He pressed a kiss into the blonde’s hair before pulling away. “I’m stopping.”
But then Bakugo’s arm was tightly wound around Hitoshi’s waist, his hand gripped into the back of Hitoshi’s tactical belt to hold the purple-hair in place.
“I didn’t tell you to leave,” he grumbled, giving Hitoshi a very weak glare. “Just stop being so fucking irritating.”
Hitoshi relented instantly, because he’s weak like that. So he pulled Bakugo more firmly against his chest, wrapping an arm around him in return.
“You have a few minutes, right?” Bakugo mumbled into Hitoshi’s neck- all soft and nestling himself as close as he could get.
Hitoshi hummed, trailing his nails up Bakugo’s back and into his hair. “Just a few.”
Bakugo kept his fist clenched tightly in the back of his belt, and Hitoshi chuckled softly as he carded his fingers through the blonde’s hair.
“Can you keep doin’ that?” Bakugo slurred, face firmly pressed into Hitoshi’s neck.
Hitoshi huffed a laugh at the fact that Bakugo even felt the need to ask, as if they didn’t go through this every time.
He figured it’s pretty sweet either way.
Bakugo fell asleep almost instantly, just like he always did. But Hitoshi still stayed laying with him for those last few minutes he had to spare, and then a few minutes more- because he was weak and it was like, really nice.
Hitoshi glanced back at him one more time as he stood in the doorway, insanely jealous that Bakugo got to sleep for a few more hours. He murmured out a quiet, “I’ll see you tonight,” as he made to pull the door shut.
He swore he heard a soft, muffled, “Mhm,” float through the air- but honestly, Hitoshi might’ve just imagined it.
But then, possibly in an instance of legitimate madness, Hitoshi heard it.
“Love you.”
It was very quiet, and slurred- so much so that Hitoshi instantly doubted whether he actually heard it to begin with.
And Bakugo had very much been completely fucking asleep minutes before Hitoshi even stood from the bed.
But still…
He looked at Bakugo again, still curled up and entirely asleep.
He hadn’t meant that.
It was just a mistake. Bakugo was probably dreaming about All Might or that brand of chili oil he really liked.
Hitoshi quickly exited the room and carefully closed the door behind him.
He stood in the hallway for a moment, pensive.
But then it all got to be a little too much and Hitoshi suddenly found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back pressed to the bedroom door in intense thought.
Hitoshi only stayed sitting like that for a minute, but he still felt… different when he finally stood and went to put his boots on at the door.
It felt like all of his everything just tilted a bare degree on its axis- everything remaining exactly the same in appearance, but all garbled and jumbled in his head.
Because now there were those tiny little words to deal with.
The exact moment that the sound of the bedroom door latching shut echoed through the silent room, Katsuki felt his entire body coil up with tension, his knees pulling up to hit his chest and his arms wrapping tightly around them.
He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a steadying breath and willing himself to do something useful- like fall back asleep, or pass out, or just fucking die already.
Katsuki worried his lower lip between his teeth, thoughts so loud he was afraid they’d start echoing against the bedroom walls.
Had he actually said that?
Like, out fucking loud?
Shinso hadn’t reacted to it at all, but then again, that’s sort of his entire brand.
The unflappable fucking bastard.
It was sort of infuriating, especially in moments like these where there were no indications as to whether or not Shinso had fucking heard him!
Fuck !
What if he played the whole thing off like he’d been mumbling nonsense in his sleep?
Would Shinso believe that?
The sound of the balcony door suddenly sliding shut nearly had Katsuki jumping out of his fucking skin. He chanced a look at the bedroom window that bordered the balcony, and he could see Shinso’s silhouette starkly from the city lights below against the dark backdrop of night.
Then Shinso did that dumb thing he always did where he bounced on the balls of his feet and pumped his arms to get his limbs warmed up. And Katsuki definitely did not find it cute, but he did always have trouble tearing his eyes away from the sight.
Katsuki ducked like a fucking idiot when Shinso suddenly looked directly at the window, almost like he could feel Katsuki’s gaze on him. He knew Shinso couldn’t see him through the one-way glass, but he still felt like he had to hold his breath to keep from getting caught at something.
He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.
But it felt dishonest to say it had been an accident.
Because- okay, yes. Katsuki had been thinking about saying it, but he hadn’t actually planned to. But having Shinso’s blunt nails scraping over his skin and him pressing kisses into Katsuki’s hair had muddled his brain enough to have him mumbling his psychotic, half-asleep mental ramblings out loud.
That was all it was.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Katsuki really tried to convince himself of that. And he continued to do so as he stuffed his feet into his shoes at the door and set off in a panicked sprint into the dark hours of the morning.
Eijiro considers himself a good friend.
Ask him to help you move? He’s there in a second. Eijiro is excellent at moving things. He will legit move so many things for you.
But suddenly appear without warning, banging on his apartment door like an absolute maniac at 4:30 on a Thursday morning?
Well, Eijiro has some reservations about that.
He stumbled through the living room to the front door, struggling to yank his shirt over his head amidst Kaminari’s half-conscious cry of, “Are we being burgled?” and the sounds of the blonde definitely eating shit falling out of his bed.
And Eijiro is a very good friend, so when he opened the door to see Bakugo standing there, panting with his body and face wrought with nerves, all of Eijiro’s irritation at the situation kind of dissipated in a single instant.
“Hey, man,” he said slowly- cautiously as he took in the blonde’s ragged breathing. “Do you… want to come inside?”
Bakugo didn’t say a single word, just passing silently through the open door and making a distressing dragging motion to move his feet along.
Something was clearly wrong.
Judging by the time, Eijiro would guess that Shinso probably just left for work, so… maybe they had fought beforehand?
He watched Bakugo sullenly toe off his untied sneakers as the door latched shut behind them. And then they were both just standing there in the foyer and Eijiro kind of felt at a loss for what to do.
It wasn’t often that Bakugo was ever so upset that he was this quiet- and that, plus the time of morning, was sort of freaking Eijiro out.
Should he ask what happened?
Wait until Bakugo wanted to talk about it, maybe?
He didn’t know the right course of action here.
“I think I fucked up,” Bakugo blurted suddenly, wringing his hands in the hem of the oversized sweatshirt that was definitely Shinso’s. “Or- I may have.” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t really know.”
“Is it…” Eijiro started. And then, trying to be delicate, he tentatively asked, “Did something happen with Shinso?”
Bakugo looked straight down at the floor at that. “Yeah,” he affirmed quietly.
Eijiro licked his lips, thinking hard. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
Bakugo looked over at Eijiro immediately, and it was the second that Bakugo nodded hesitantly that the redhead realized that something had to be horribly wrong to have him acting so… meek.
He set a light hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, gesturing towards the living room next to them. “Why don’t we sit down?”
Bakugo nodded again, tiredly rubbing at his eyes as he did. He glanced at Eijiro, then down at his sweatshirt, then back to Eijiro, opening his mouth and-
There was a sudden triumphant yell, and then Kaminari’s torso was flopping out of his now-open bedroom door and onto the hall floor. “I did it!” he said victoriously, panting in effort. “Burglar?” he asked, whipping his head around as he searched for Eijiro. He pursed his lips when he saw the strangely tender scene unfolding in the foyer, and he cocked his head as he confusedly voiced, “Wait- Bakugo?”
Eijiro turned quickly, holding his free hand up in timeout to Kaminari with the other squeezing Bakugo’s tense shoulder. “Hold on a sec, Kami.”
Kaminari made a face, like his brain couldn’t take in all the information around him. He looked at Eijiro, then at Bakugo, then back at Eijiro, asking, “Why would Bakugo burgle us?”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Bakugo shouted suddenly, voice almost shrill as he yanked himself from Eijiro’s hold and stormed up to Kaminari.
“Whoa, whoa!” Kaminari said quickly, frantically squirming on the floor. “My legs are tangled in my blankets!” He looked to Eijiro in a panic. “Kiri, I’m easy prey here!”
And Bakugo just stood there for a second over Kaminari, fists clenched and smoking at his sides. He took a sudden step back, and then another, and then he was quickly backpedaling until his back hit the wall of the hallway and he was sliding to sit cross-legged on the floor.
The most concerning part was when he then started laughing- like, really hard.
“Oh, my fucking God!” he cackled, doubled-over. He pounded his fist against the floor a single time. “You’d really fucking die because you got trapped in your blankets? You thought you were being robbed, for fuck’s sake.”
Bakugo stood shakily, and then he was stepping over Kaminari and into his bedroom. “How’ve you even lived this long?” he asked, stuffing his hands into the wound fabric to work it loose enough to free Kaminari’s legs.
By the time Kaminari’s legs were unbound, Bakugo was just crouching there at his feet, holding the mass of blankets in his arms.
He cleared his throat, staring down at the blankets as he asked, “Has Hitoshi texted you?”
Kaminari blinked at him multiple times. “I don’t think so,” he responded slowly. “But I haven’t really checked.” He suddenly looked directly at Bakugo. “Why? Did you do something?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Bakugo shouted back defensively. “Or I- I don’t think I did.” Then he plopped down onto his butt, squeezing the blankets to his chest as he confusedly grumbled, “Did I?”
And then Bakugo was staring down at the floor in apparent misery, and Kaminari was staring at Eijiro, seemingly asking him what they should do.
So Eijiro lightly clapped his hands together, drawing both the blondes’ attention as he announced, “Let’s move this party into the living room- I’ll make some coffee!”
Hitoshi honestly had no conscious intention of avoiding Bakugo. But then his coworker knocked on his office door promptly at 7 am just as he was finishing up one of too fucking many stacks of backlogged paperwork. She had a hesitant little apologetic smile on her face, and Hitoshi instantly knew he had an out.
But did he want an out?
Did he need one?
He hadn’t even considered it before now.
Upon nodding at her in acknowledgement and setting down his pen to show he was listening, she awkwardly side-stepped into his office.
See, underground heroes weren’t always completely socially inept, but the stereotype existed for a good reason.
For some people, like Hitoshi, he preferred being out of the public eye because he genuinely didn’t want to deal with other people- with all their feelings and opinions and- Christ, he was getting exhausted just thinking about it.
But then there were the other kind of undergrounds, like Firefly here, whose Quirk was rad enough to let her emit and control multiple balls of glowing light at will- crucial for both rescue missions and stealth ops- yet she acted like she had never spoken to another person before in her entire life.
Aizawa happened to fall into the center of this Venn diagram.
“Silver! Hi, good morning!” Firefly called too happily, bouncing on her heels as she approached his desk. “Lucky that you’re here,” she started before suddenly pulling a face. “Or- lucky for me, not really all that lucky for you, honestly.”
Hitoshi waited patiently, knowing she’d get there eventually. She was an absolute travesty to have a conversation with, but she really was an excellent hero, so he wouldn’t fault her for it.
She cleared her throat, making a rolling motion with her hands like she was winding herself up. She clapped once. “So!” she said. “I’m supposed to start my shift at…” She checked her watch. “Yikes- two minutes ago!” she concluded, laughing nervously. “But as for my second shift- well, see, I was wondering if you maybe wouldn’t mind too much to-”
“Fire,” he interrupted, holding up his hand to get her to quiet. “Please get to the point.”
She nodded once, taking a deep breath before dropping into a formal bow. “Please cover my second shift! I’ll owe you bigtime!”
Hitoshi hated how much she reminded him of Kaminari in moments like these. He wasn’t particularly good at refusing that type of personality (Ashido wasn’t his best match-up either).
He complained, but Firefly was honestly kind of a delight to have around. Their agency was full of the gloomy kind of socially-inept, so having her in-your-face, blinding rush of word-vomit was sort of refreshing.
In very small doses.
“Bigtime, huh?” he voiced, clicking his pen in hand.
Her eyes rapidly darted from side-to-side, like she hadn’t ever planned to get this far and was now at a loss for what to do next.
“Uh, um,” she stuttered. “I’ll owe you super bigtime! And, um-” She suddenly straightened, produced a lidded paper cup out of seemingly fucking nowhere, and then she announced, “Coffee!” like that solved anything.
But Hitoshi was not a man easily swayed, so he immediately accepted the cup from her, took a critical sip, and when he realized it wasn’t the shitty breakroom coffee, he finally dropped the act and shot her a small grin.
“I’ll cover your shift,” he said simply. And when she started giving him gratuitous thanks in the shrillest fucking cooing voice possible, Hitoshi was very insistent about her needing to go start planning for whatever the hell she needed off for to begin with.
He did the mental math as he grabbed his phone from the desk. Originally, he should’ve been off his second patrol around 6 pm. But now, he’d have to work an extra four hours to cover her patrol.
Hitoshi briefly considered the legality of such a schedule and then was forced to wonder why exactly he agreed to it to begin with.
He heard a raspy whisper of “Love you” bounce around the back of his brain and he flinched, ducking his head and scratching at the back of his flushed neck.
Hitoshi was not avoiding Bakugo.
He wasn’t.
But he still knew he was doing something underhanded when he felt a tiny stab of guilt while typing out his message to the blonde.
Hitoshi [7:14 am]
Hey, I’m covering a shift for a coworker
I’ll probably crash at my agency for a bit after, but I should be finished sometime late tonight
And the speed at which Bakugo texted him back told Hitoshi that the blonde must already be prepped at his agency and waiting to be paired-off and dispatched on his own patrol, otherwise he wouldn’t have his phone so handy.
That made Hitoshi feel sort of worse- like he was ruining Bakugo’s day before it even began.
He quickly shoved down the feeling, because it wasn’t as if this exact situation hadn’t happened before (minus those little words whispered into the silence of the bedroom).
He unlocked his phone, and the second his eyes caught the message in his peripheral, all the air whooshed out of Hitoshi’s lungs in instant relief.
Kats [7:16 am]
Okay.
Bordering on rude and straight to the point- exactly the way Bakugo usually texted.
Hitoshi was being fucking crazy. He probably just imagined the whole thing in his initial startled panic.
He was half-way through typing out his usual offer of grabbing something from the store on his way to Bakugo’s later when those three little typing dots started up beneath the blonde’s most recent message. They stopped for a moment before reappearing, then stopping again, and then they just trailed on and on and on, and Hitoshi groaned aloud when he felt the sting of panic grip at his chest again.
His phone buzzed softly in his hand as the message popped up on the screen.
Kats [7:18 am]
Did I do something wrong?
Oh, fuck.
No no no!
This was the very fucking last thing that Hitoshi wanted.
He frantically typed a message and sent it. Then the second he reread it, he felt like he needed to be more insistent in his assurance.
Hitoshi [7:18 am]
No, not at all
We’re 100% good, I promise
And Hitoshi was being completely honest when he said that.
Because nothing was wrong between them- there was absolutely zero ill-will, they weren’t fighting over this, and Bakugo really wasn’t even acting weird.
Hitoshi was just being stupid about it, and he thinks that if Bakugo was aware of what happened, he’d be being pretty stupid about it too.
Bakugo acted as if he were being forced against his will with the way he haltingly explained what happened that morning to Eijiro and Kaminari, constantly stuffing his hands into his hair and groaning, “Can y’all not fucking infer?” whenever they asked him to give details or to stop mumbling.
They’ve gone over it four times now and honestly, Eijiro doesn’t think they’ve gotten anywhere at all.
And Eijiro really is trying to be sensitive about this, but his first instinct when Bakugo finally managed to grumble into his smoking hands, “I told him I love him,” was to stare at the blonde incredulously in confusion and ask, “That’s all?”
But luckily, Eijiro knew when to give Bakugo time, so he kept his confusion to himself, and instead he offered for them to all take a nap so that they could be calm and refreshed when they started the conversation back up again.
That, and it was literally five in the morning and Eijiro was so damn tired.
It was a solid plan that worked swimmingly up until the trio was startled awake from their spots sprawled across the sectional by Bakugo's phone chirping on the table.
Eijiro thinks that the ensuing disaster was more-or-less unavoidable.
Hitoshi [7:14 am]
Hey, I’m covering a shift for a coworker
I’ll probably crash at my agency for a bit after, but I should be finished sometime late tonight
“That is not suspicious!” Eijiro said with feeling, looking to Bakugo’s tense face. “Doesn’t he fall asleep at work all the time?”
“But does he ever preemptively plan to sleep at work?” Kaminari asked from his spot rotting on the sofa, pointedly raising his spoon from his 7 am pint of electric-blue Cookie Monster ice cream. “That’s the real question.”
Eijiro immediately shot Kaminari the most vicious glare he could muster. “You are not helping!”
And either Kaminari wasn’t even remotely afraid of him, Eijiro wasn’t threatening at all, or he was just really into that ice cream.
Eijiro stormed up to the sofa, snatched the pint and spoon from Kaminari’s sticky hands, and stuffed a huge spoonful into his mouth.
Dammit, it was really good ice cream. Eijiro couldn’t even blame him.
He took another bite, solemnly this time.
“Are you two being fucking forreal right now?!” Bakugo yelled, springing to his feet and forcibly yanking the pint from Eijiro’s hand before slamming it onto the coffee table. “I’m having a crisis and you’re supposed to be my friends!”
That was fair- that was actually totally fair.
Eijiro considers himself a good friend.
He’d like to make a slight retraction to that statement.
Because Eijiro and Kaminari were now both staring at the pint of ice cream. Then they sighed longingly in tandem and twin explosions burst from Bakugo’s palms a moment later.
“What the actual fuck, you guys?!”
“Sorry, man, I dunno!” Eijiro cried, throwing his hands up. “Morning ice cream hits different, I don’t know what to tell you!” He could feel Bakugo’s furious gaze on him but for the life of him, Eijiro could not tear his eyes away from that fucking ice cream!
“It’s because you know you shouldn’t, dude,” Kaminari voiced softly. He licked his lips. “And that just makes you want it more.”
“Dammit!” Bakugo cursed, his eyes also now zeroed in on the pint. “Give me the fucking ice cream!”
“Uh, my dudes,” Kaminari started tentatively, like he was about to break some bad news to them. “Not to be that guy, but that ice cream literally has my name written on it in Sharpie.”
“Pikachu!” Bakugo shouted. “Do you not know what crisis means? Give me the ice cream!”
Eijiro quickly handed the pint and spoon to Bakugo, who immediately took a small scoop and tasted it. Then he pouted, sat down heavily on the sofa, and drew his knees up to his chest as he took another bite.
With Bakugo seemingly momentarily placated by how hard morning ice cream apparently hits (Eijiro never had the pleasure before), Eijiro gathered their coffee mugs to refill them. And as he was passing behind Kaminari, he whispered, “Do we have any more ice cream?”
Kaminari made an offended sound. “Um, I think you mean do I have any more-”
His glares seemed to be getting better as the morning wore on, because Kaminari cut himself off before quietly saying, “No, that’s the last of it.” Then he earned his spot as resident sunshine-boy when he quickly produced his phone and added, “But Instacart can have more here in… thirty-four minutes.”
“Order some Pedialyte too,” Eijiro said, and at Kaminari’s almost horrified face, he tacked on, “I have a bad feeling.”
Grocery bag filled to the brim with ice cream and electrolyte drinks in hand, the boys shuffled into the kitchen.
Bakugo made exceptionally quick work of Kaminari's cookie ice cream as they waited for their order, and the blonde had blushed shamefully as he asked if there was more immediately afterwards.
Apparently, Bakugo wasn’t above eating his feelings.
Which sort of worked in Eijiro and Kaminari’s favor.
They ordered four pints of the same ice cream. One for each of them, along with an extra just in case there was, as Kaminari put it, an ‘ice cream emergency’.
“It’s better this way,” Kaminari whispered as he plopped a heaping spoonful of marshmallow fluff onto the ice cream’s surface before handing it off to Bakugo. He set a tender hand on Bakugo’s arm, softly saying, “It’s a texture thing.”
“You’re making it real damn hard not to beat you up right now,” Bakugo grumbled, staring down at the ice cream in mild disgust.
“Say that to me again when you want more fluff, Sparky,” Kaminari replied cheekily, hip-checking Bakugo out of the way to start dressing his own pint.
They all called their bosses in tandem, ice cream sat in preparation on the coffee table in front of them.
“Jeanist, I need off today,” Bakugo grunted into the phone at the same moment that Eijiro’s line clicked active and he tentatively said, “Fat, man, so I have a favor to ask you?”
Meanwhile Kaminari, who was a brand new addition to the just-established Lemillion Agency, was already sat gabbing on the phone with Togata. The blonde had greeted his boss with a chipper, “I’m not coming in today!” before launching into a dramatic retelling of “the tea you missed in the mess-hall on Tuesday”.
Luckily, most agencies were overstaffed these days, so it didn’t take much convincing.
Eijiro watched out of the corner of his eye as Bakugo took a small scoop of marshmallow, tasted it, sunk back deeper into the sofa, and then proceeded to gouge out an enormous spoonful of marshmallow fluff and lick it.
“Dude,” Eijiro said with feeling.
“No, he’s got the right idea,” Kaminari garbled around the spoon in his mouth before removing it. “Like I said, it’s a texture thing.”
Bakugo suddenly released a heavy sigh, and then his body was coiling with tension again as he said, “Okay, so about Hitoshi-”
“Here,” Kaminari instructed to the room at large, making a performance of wrapping his blanket around his left hand before placing the pint of ice cream into it. He held it up to them like a trophy he worked very hard to earn. “So your hand doesn’t get cold.”
“Oh, damn,” Eijiro said, impressed. He mimicked the motion and grinned when his hand remained warm and comfortable even when holding the ice cream. “That’s genius, dude!”
“Guys!” Bakugo shouted, fists sparking.
“So!” Kaminari said, smacking his free hand against his knee and turning his attention to Bakugo fully. He briefly fanned his hand at the fresh plume of smoke dissipating around them but thankfully made no mention of it. “Hitoshi’s sleeping at work- what do we say back to that?”
“I dunno who the fuck we is, but I already responded to him.”
Kaminari looked downright scandalized. “Without me?!” he asked frantically, throwing himself across the sofa to grab at Bakugo’s shoulder. “What did you say?”
Bakugo made an irritated face at that, but still flipped his phone around to show Kaminari regardless.
Katsuki [7:16 am]
Okay.
“What?!” Kaminari yelled shrilly, cross-eyed with his face an inch away from Bakugo’s phone screen. “What the hell even is this? Do you always text him like that?”
“Like fucking what?” Bakugo demanded, shoulders defensively hunched up to his ears and face flushed dark. “That’s normal!”
Kaminari looked to Eijiro, eyes literally pleading with the redhead to back him up. Eijiro cleared his throat, taking a reluctant pause in eating his ice cream as he asked, “Well… what does it say?”
“Okay,” Kaminari recited blankly before leveling Eijiro with a look. “Just ‘okay’, spelled out, and then a period.”
Eijiro made a wounded noise. “Ouch.”
“You all’re acting like I called him a fucking slur or something!”
“Alright,” Kaminari started. “This would be an entirely different conversation if that had happened.” He pointed his spoon at Bakugo, giving him a disapproving look. “You’re just being dense.”
The second Kaminari said that, Bakugo’s feet hit the floor and Eijiro quickly interrupted before they could make any of this worse. “Okay, word and punctuation choice aside- was there anything else?”
“Yeah,” Bakugo grunted, glaring at Kaminari out of the corner of his eye as he pulled the messages back up.
“There’s more?” Kaminari voiced aimlessly. “Why the hell are you showing us this in stages?”
Bakugo groaned aloud. “Because there’s nothing fucking here!” he ranted, tossing his phone at Kaminari’s chest. “I asked if I did something wrong and he told me I didn’t! That’s it!”
“Okay, well…” Kaminari said, eyes now locked onto Bakugo’s phone and clearly scrolling way back in the conversation. His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, wow- you guys sext a lot.”
The next two minutes were a flurry of shouting, pleading, actual slurs, and a few punches thrown with the force of an explosion behind them.
Eijiro said a painful goodbye to the throw blanket that had been across Kaminari’s lap as the blonde went to his room to change his singed shirt.
Not long after, Kaminari strode back into the living room with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Just so you know, that was like, my favorite shirt,” he said, taking a stiff seat on the sofa and pointedly folding one leg over the other in a huff.
Bakugo snarled at him. “It was a tie-dyed monstrosity and the world is better off without it here!”
“Okay!” Eijiro snapped, clapping his hands. “We’re not talking about the shirt or the blanket,” he said, forcing down his instinctive sob at the thought of that blanket.
He turned to face Bakugo. “What information is it you need from Shinso to feel better about this? What are you so worried about?”
“I, so-” he began, visibly cringing. He glanced between the boys and then stared down at his hands as he quietly said, “I want to know if he heard me.”
“Dude, just ask him,” Eijiro suggested, shrugging. “He’s your boyfriend, yeah? What’s the harm?”
“Yeah,” Kaminari agreed, tilting his head. “Hitoshi won’t make a big deal out of it if you don’t want him to.”
“I cannot just ask him!” Bakugo shouted suddenly, winding frantic fingers into his hair. “Because what if he didn’t fucking hear me, huh? What about then?” A cloud of smoke plumed from the blonde’s hand. “And then, what if he’s like, ‘Why would you ask that?’ in that stupid fucking-” He made an aggressive motion of wringing something suspiciously throat-sized in his hands. “That fucking way he does- and I can’t fucking just- not answer him?” Bakugo’s wildly waving his hands around now, literally tirading, and then he sharply clapped. “So then- boom!- I fucking tell him, and then he knows and so then I’m the fucking weirdo whispering shit to him in the early hours of the fucking morning and-”
“Whoa, whoa!” Eijiro interrupted, holding his hands up in front of him as if trying to calm a spooked animal. “Okay, I think you may be…” He trailed off hesitantly before flashing Bakugo an apologetic smile. “I think you’re blowing this way out of proportion, man.”
Kaminari nodded once. “I agree.”
“You guys aren’t helpful at all!” Bakugo yelled, dropping his head into his lap and narrowly avoiding face-planting directly into his ice cream.
Kaminari poked his foot out from beneath the blanket he brought from his room and nudged at the mass that was Bakugo’s body. “Eat your ice cream- it’ll help.”
Bakugo shot Kaminari a very weak glare after he lifted his head up. But even if it’d been at full rage, the mess of Bakugo’s hair and the blue smeared across his mouth definitely took some of the bite out of it.
Eijiro pursed his lips. There was one thing he hadn’t asked yet, mostly for fear of igniting the powder-keg that is Bakugo Katsuki.
But it seemed crucial at this point.
“I mean, did you lie?” he asked tentatively.
The blonde blinked once, eyed firmly trained on the coffee table in front of him. “What?”
Eijiro took a deep breath. He had to be strong. “Do you love him?”
Then Bakugo was fiddling with his string of his sweatpants so aggressively that the braided fabric started fraying to bits in his smoldering hands.
He groaned and pushed his face back into his knees after that.
“Okay,” Eijiro said patiently. “Well, in the event that you do love him, is it really so bad that he knows?”
From his spot curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the sofa, Bakugo grumbled out a short, “No.”
“Then there’s no problem!” Kaminari said, laughing lightly.
“But it wasn’t on purpose!” Bakugo yelled, his face still mushed into his knees as he pounded his fist against the sofa cushion next to him. “I can’t say it for the first time again! I fucking- I ruined it!” he concluded miserably, having to choke out the words.
Kaminari had already caught his eye before Eijiro even thought to glance at the blonde. And Eijiro really was going to say something to try to calm Bakugo down as best as he could, but now that the dam had broken, it didn’t seem like it was going to stop until Bakugo was finished.
“And it wasn’t even a proper fucking ‘I love you’,” he spat furiously. “It was one of those half-hearted, chincy-ass ‘Love you’s that doesn’t mean shit!” He had his hand clutching at the fabric over his heart now, and his next words sounded so shaky that Eijiro worried he may actually be about to cry. “It was fucking weak and disrespectful and Hitoshi doesn’t deserve that!”
Ah.
Okay, Eijiro thinks he gets it now.
They finally got there.
“So,” Eijiro started haltingly. He glanced at Kaminari. “It’s not that you didn’t mean it…”
Then Kaminari piped in with, “It’s that you didn’t say it the way you wanted to.”
They stared at each other for a moment, spoons raised in consideration before simultaneously saying, “That’s fair!”
“No, that’s actually totally fair,” Kaminari added, looking thoughtful. “At first I honestly thought you were being ridiculous,” - cue growl from Bakugo- “Hey, you made it seem like you were mad that you said it at all.” He looked at Eijiro. “But now…”
Eijiro smiled at Bakugo fondly, but not too fondly- the ice cream could only quell so much of the blonde’s passive rage. “But now it’s actually really understandable.”
He realized that wasn’t really helpful, so he quickly tacked on, “I think if you told him what you just told us, you guys would be golden.”
“Yeah,” Kaminari agreed, resuming his ice cream eating now that he sensed the crisis was more-or-less diverted. “Hitoshi will act like he doesn’t care about it, probably for your sake,” -an unintentional jab of guilt directly at Bakugo’s heart- “But he really does eat up that sweet stuff.”
Then Kaminari laughed aloud, looking proud of himself as he gestured at his ice cream and said, “Just like us!” Then a moment later and he was looking between Bakugo and Eijiro, excitedly asking, “Sick pun- right, guys?”
Both boys shoveled massive spoonfuls of ice cream into their mouths, pointedly not saying a word.
Kaminari pouted, still looking between them. “Right?” he asked again, softer this time.
Eijiro took a quick sip of coffee. “It was a great-”
“I don’t know why the fuck Hitoshi likes you so much.”
There was a brief moment of silence as Kaminari gaped at Bakugo, who only continued eating his ice cream, seemingly not bothered by the tension he just manifested into the room.
Kaminari suddenly stood, hair frizzing with rampant static as he pointed his spoon at Bakugo in accusation. “You were having a crisis and we helped and you guys ate my ice cream and now you’re being mean to me?!”
“Eiji’s the only one being even slightly helpful,” Bakugo said pointedly, gesturing to the redhead with his spoon.
“Oh, screw you,” Kaminari chastised, grumbling to himself.
And Eijiro knew how Kaminari felt, because even though Bakugo was roughly a thousand times better nowadays in terms of temperament when compared to their time at UA, when he was in a bad mood and needed to get the aggression out somehow, he still tended to get snappy with the “easiest” people around him.
Unfortunately for Kaminari, of the three present that person happened to be him.
But even so, Eijiro is proud to say that he thinks the blonde handled it with grace.
Kaminari sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling when he realized he wasn’t going to win this. Then he turned towards the kitchen, idly asking, “Anyone want a top-off?”
Bakugo quirked a brow at that. “Of?”
Kaminari raised his empty ice cream in explanation and pouted. “Coffee.”
They all handed their mugs over, and Eijiro was glad to see that Bakugo offered Kaminari a nod in thanks as he took his refilled mug from the blonde a few minutes later.
“I can feel my blood coagulating in my veins,” Bakugo huffed, sinking back into the sofa and pulling his knees up. He took a sip of coffee, and then he set his mug down before reaching out to grab his pint of ice cream from where he had left it many minutes beforehand.
There was a moment of silence as Kaminari and Eijiro both held their breath.
“It’s melted!” Bakugo said suddenly, slamming his pint down onto the table. He dropped his face into his hands. “Guys, I’m gonna fucking kill myself!”
Eijiro and Kaminari instantly locked eyes at that. Then they both sighed before standing- Kaminari to retrieve the emergency pint from the freezer, and Eijiro to tuck a fresh blanket around Bakugo’s hunched form.
Around 3 pm, when their bodies had long-since fused with the sofa, they were startled into sudden awareness when Katsuki’s phone started ringing from where it was sat on the table.
It was so loud.
They all groaned.
Katsuki reached an uncoordinated hand out from underneath the blankets, blindly pawing at the edge of the table before successfully managing to get his phone in hand.
He dazedly blinked his eyes open, squinting at the screen of his ringing phone.
Then his eyes shot open wide and he quickly stood from the sofa, stumbling when his foot caught in the loop of the blanket that’d been tucked around him.
“See!” Kaminari said triumphantly, gesturing at Katsuki. “It can happen to anyone!”
“Everyone shut up!” Katsuki snapped, running an unsteady hand up the side of his face. “Hitoshi’s calling me.”
Katsuki tried to clear the roughness from his throat, unable to decide if it was from sleep or from the fact that all he’s ingested today is pure sugar, coffee, and Pedialyte.
He groaned. He has to have collected up thirteen reasons by now.
Katsuki tapped to answer the call and held the phone up to his ear. “Yeah?”
“Oh, hey!” Shinso said in surprise. He laughed a little. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to pick up- are you still on patrol?”
Oh.
Oh, right.
He was supposed to be on patrol right now.
This was… wait, was this bad?
“Am I still on patrol…?” Katsuki repeated softly, and Kirishima and Kaminari’s eyes snapped to him at that.
He grabbed the blanket from the floor and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders. “One sec,” he murmured into the phone, quickly pacing the room to step out onto the balcony.
He closed the door behind him, careful not to make eye contact with either of the two boys currently staring him down through the window.
Katsuki raised his phone back up to his ear. “Hey, uh,” he began, feeling something close to shame roil in his stomach. He cleared his throat. “I called out today. I’ve been at Eijiro’s.”
There was a second of silence before Shinso was repeating, “You called out today,” and then he asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said, not knowing if it was a lie or not. “I just needed, um…”
Katsuki glanced back at the windows where he could see Kaminari and Kirishima now lounging on opposite ends of the sofa. They were aggressively knocking their knees together, trying to throw each other off balance as they took turns tossing entire handfuls of Goldfish crackers into the other’s mouth.
Idiots.
“I needed this,” he concluded hoarsely, looking down at his feet. “A-and, uh,” he stuttered, sighing heavily before saying, “I, uh- I’m… sorry- for not telling you earlier, I mean. I… think I probably should have.”
The apology was broken and awkward, just like they always are when they come from Katsuki. But Shinso had assured him early on that effort matters more to him than the delivery. So even though Katsuki’s neck was starting to burn and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, he still felt an instant kind of relief when Shinso murmured out a quiet, “That’s okay.”
And then the purple-hair laughed lightly, and that knot in Katsuki’s chest almost completely vanished.
“How’s work going for you?” Katsuki asked, taking a seat on the floor of the balcony (the boys never bothered to get patio furniture, citing that one could never be too good to sit on the floor).
“Bleh,” Shinso complained. “It’s been a day, for sure.” There were the jarring sounds of chair legs scraping against concrete as Shinso heavily sat down. “But I’m finally on break, so only… eight more hours to go after I finish this coffee.”
“You are eating actual food too, right?”
Shinso hesitated for a second too long.
“Hitoshi!”
“Hey, I ate an entire banana this morning and there’s ample half-and-half in my coffee. My calorie needs are being met, Katsuki. Please do not fret.”
My calories needs are being met- a bald-faced fucking lie if Katsuki ever heard one.
Katsuki pushed his face into his knees, irritably groaning, “You’ve been working for ten hours and you haven’t even eaten a whole meal.”
It wasn’t a question, Katsuki just needed to say it out loud to make sure it sounded just as absolutely fucking ridiculous as it did in his head.
“Where are you?” Katsuki asked quickly. Then he tacked on, “I’ll bring you something,” in rushed explanation.
And Shinso could very well be extremely far away from him right now, but Katsuki didn’t fucking care. Because the idiot only seemed to eat when he was “in the mood to”- whatever the fuck that meant- and it drove Katsuki up the fucking wall!
“No need,” Shinso said offhandedly. “I’ll grab something before I head back.” Then when Katsuki immediately released a dramatic sigh at that, Shinso added an insistent, “I promise.”
They were both quiet for a moment, and then Shinso was hesitantly saying, “So,“ before lowering his voice. “I wanted to talk to you real quick. Just about-”
Katsuki’s heart stopped.
“I’m serious!” Katsuki interrupted, his stomach flip-flopping uncomfortably. “I-I’ll- fuck- I mean, I can bring something, if you want me to.”
He wanted to scream. He wanted to die.
Katsuki really thought he had more time.
There was a brief silence before Shinso released a heavy breath, audible even over the phone. “That’s real sweet of you, Katsuki,” he said with forced patience. “But we should really-”
“But, ‘Toshi, I-”
“Katsuki,” Shinso interrupted sharply, making Katsuki instantly quiet. “I’m not sure if you’re stalling, or deflecting, or what- but I’m on the brink of actually getting irritated with you, so can we get back to the reason I called?” Then he cleared his throat, voice a little softer as he added a pointed, “Please?”
Katsuki muttered out a rough, “Yeah,” but he still buried his face into his knees and yanked the blanket over his head in preparation. He suddenly felt very exposed and he had a feeling it was about to get so much worse.
Because… fuck. Was Shinso expecting to do this now?
“Do we have to do this right now?” he asked suddenly- and it felt rude coming out, but fucking Christ he just needed to know!
“What?” Shinso asked, and then a second passed and he was blurting, “Oh, God no. I’m literally working.” Then he cleared his throat before lightly adding, “I didn’t get the memo everyone was calling out today, so you’ll have to wait.”
And Katsuki did offer a tense chuckle in response to that, but then a sudden realization slammed into his brain like a fucking truck.
Do we have to do this now?
Do we have to do this now?
This.
Katsuki wound his fingers into his hair.
Oh, fucking Christ! He just admitted that something happened! And then Shinso hadn’t asked him to clarify which means that Shinso fucking knows!
Oooooooh, Katsuki is going to throw up. He’s going to throw up and then he’ll bash his skull apart against the balcony railing.
He took a moment to consider that. He wouldn’t have much time before Kaminari and Eijiro inevitably rushed out to stop him. He’d have to get the job done in the first whack.
Maybe it’d be easier to just jump?
“Katsuki.”
Shinso’s voice cut sharply through his head and Katsuki instantly knew he had just used his Quirk. Katsuki knew he couldn’t take control of him like this even if the purple-hair wanted to, but that hypnotic layer added to his voice definitely begged Katsuki’s full attention.
He cleared his throat roughly. “Yes?”
Shinso huffed out a small laugh. “You back with me? Seems like you went somewhere for a minute.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki grumbled, embarrassed. He scrubbed a hand up his face. “Just thinking of how to kill myself the quickest.”
And if he’d been talking to most other people- Midoriya for certain, or even Kirishima or Kaminari- they probably would’ve responded with a hesitant, “Like, as a joke, right?”
But not Shinso- never Shinso.
The purple-hair was always able to gauge his tone, so it was almost refreshing when Shinso immediately gave him a soft chuckle in response and said, “I take it you’re kinda worrying about this?”
This.
Katsuki groaned, tugging the loose fabric of his sweatshirt over his bent knees and then pushing his face into them. He grunted out a short, “No,” that wasn’t even remotely believable, and he couldn’t restrain his grin when that made Shinso laugh again.
Shinso blessedly changed the topic after that, idly asking, “So what’ve you guys been up to?”
Katsuki instantly made a face. “Can I, uh- can I tell you later?“ He scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s not weird or anything, I just-”
He replayed the last few hours in his head- his initial panic, his conversation with Kirishima and Kaminari, his second panic, all the damn ice cream, then them vegetating on the sofa watching fucking Ouran reruns for five hours straight.
Dammit, Shinso would pout at him so hard if he knew Katsuki watched it without him.
Katsuki groaned aloud and Shinso immediately laughed, knowingly murmuring, “That bad, huh?” Then he hummed. “Alright then, send me a picture instead.”
Katsuki hesitated for a second, squinting suspiciously. “Of what?”
“Your beautiful face, stupid,” Shinso laughed. “Though I mean, you could stand to show some skin if you’re feeling generous.” And Katsuki could tell the asshole was smirking as he added, “But I’ll leave that up to your discretion.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes but still pulled the phone from his ear and snapped a quick selfie- then he thanked whatever fucked-up god was looking out for him when he decided to actually look at the photo for once before hitting send.
His mouth was smeared with ice cream.
Like, halfway up his fucking face.
Katsuki mumbled a, “Hold on,” into the phone before he strategically rested his chin in his hand, barely managing to cover the mess on his face with the help of the wadded up edge of the blanket.
He still looked like a fucking idiot, but he hit send anyways- because Shinso asked him to.
Shinso immediately asked, “Is that my sweater?” And then he added an amused, “Wait, what the fuck is on your head?” that he had to choke out through a laugh.
Katsuki huffed out a breath, flushing. “Yes, it’s your fucking sweater- and it’s a blanket, dumbass- and also, it’s been a fucking day like you said, okay? Cut me some slack.” Katsuki hid his face in his knees at every crack of his voice as he spoke, so when Shinso fucking giggled throughout the entire thing, Katsuki pounded his fist against the floor and yelled, “And send me a picture of you eating actual fucking food, dipshit!”
“Or else what?” Shinso asked, and Katsuki can hear the dumb fucking smile in his voice again, and Katsuki wanted to hate him for it, solely on principle.
But instead he just found himself smiling like an idiot instead.
“Or else I’ll beat you up!” he shouted in response.
It was a bold lie, and Katsuki was extremely aware of that- because they both knew Katsuki would never seriously put hands on him.
But Shinso still sighed dramatically anyways, laughing out a pointed, “Okay, mom.”
There was the telltale sound of Shinso’s sad little sigh when the purple-hair finished his coffee. Then the grating noise of chair legs scraping against the ground echoed through the phone speaker as he stood.
“Well, I’ve only got a few minutes before I’ve gotta get back to my route, so.”
Katsuki startled slightly, suddenly checking his phone screen and realizing they’d been talking for nearly half an hour- Shinso’s entire lunch break.
He literally spent every second of the free time he had talking to Katsuki.
It was way too satisfying- Katsuki really shouldn’t take so much pleasure in it.
“You promised me you’d eat something,” Katsuki pointedly reminded him.
“Rats,” Shinso said, clicking his tongue the way he always did when he said that. “You and your spectacular short-term memory.”
There was a beat of quiet.
“And Katsuki?” Shinso prompted softly. “Try not to freak out about it, okay? We’re good.”
“I’m not freaking out,” he grumbled, fully knowing he was about ten hours into the most continuous freak-out of his life. And he’d even made the mistake of enlisting help, which means that now there were witnesses.
He glared at the two boys through the window, cursing to himself.
Kaminari was definitely going to blab.
Dammit.
“Are we actually good?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Shinso replied- and he sounded pretty sure of himself up until he added on a painfully self-conscious, “So long as you don’t say it was a joke or a prank or something, we’re fine.”
Katsuki made a scandalized noise at that before huffing, “It was not a joke!” and quickly following up with an insistent, “I wouldn’t do that!”
“Then we’re good, Kats,” Shinso assured lightly. “Come on, did you think I was gonna make it weird or something?”
“Well,” Katsuki grumbled, finally willing to ask the hours-standing question. “It sorta feels like you’re fucking avoiding me.”
“Okay, so I’m not gonna lie to you,” Shinso started quickly, and Katsuki could hear him scuffing his boot against the pavement at his feet. “Me agreeing to cover that shift was a moment of weakness that was only half me avoiding you.”
And even though Katsuki expected it, it still hurt a little bit- hearing that from Shinso.
But then the purple-hair tacked on a mumbled, “But in my defense, I didn’t know if… like, if it was on purpose?”
“Yeah, that’s-” Katsuki began, quickly cutting himself off as he lowered his voice and muttered, “I didn’t know if you had heard me, so.” He roughly cleared his throat. “It’s fine. We’re- we’re good.”
God, they were so close to talking about it.
“We’ll, uh- we’ll talk later then?” Katsuki suggested tentatively. “You’ll still come over after your shift?”
And it all just felt sort of tense all of a sudden- like whatever Shinso said in response to that was going to make or break Katsuki’s entire psyche.
But then Shinso was murmuring out a soft, “Yeah,” and then clarifying with, “Yeah, of course. So long as you’re not busy.”
“I’m not!” Katsuki blurted in relief. And then he flushed, immediately irritated at his own eagerness. “Or, like- I can… make time.”
Shinso laughed brightly. “Nice save, Kats.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbled.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Shinso said. There were the sounds of bells chiming and a door closing and then the purple-hair was adding, “And don’t wait up, it’ll probably be pretty late.”
“I’ll wait up if I fucking want to.”
Shinso hummed at that. “I’ll text you- I still owe you a picture.”
“Damn right,” Katsuki grumbled, internally way too pleased that Shinso planned to follow through with that. He cleared his throat, muttering, “Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I lo-"
There was a moment of deafening silence after Katsuki cut himself off, and it made him briefly wonder if Shinso’s heart had stopped too or if it was only his own.
Shinso laughed once- and it was definitely a little uncomfortable, or overwhelmed, or something- something about it was weird and wrong and Katsuki’s tongue was useless in his mouth and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do and-
“Oh, wow,” Shinso murmured, sounding equal parts amused and thoughtful. “You’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”
“Bye!” Katsuki snapped, not even sparing a thought before he pulled the phone from his ear and hung up the call.
It took a few very long minutes for Katsuki to finally pull his head out from beneath the blanket he’d come close to choking himself out with the moment the call dropped.
He walked tensely back into the living room, and he wanted to appreciate how warm it was and how inviting the couch looked, but his skin prickled uncomfortably from the undivided attention he received the second he opened the door.
“So?!” Kaminari yelled, jumping directly onto his back.
And Katsuki thinks that Kaminari should be really fucking grateful to Kirishima, because the moment that the blonde’s weight plowed into Katsuki, the redhead was wrapping his arms around Kaminari’s waist and throwing the blonde over his shoulder.
Kirishima offered him a tense apology as he bodily tossed Kaminari onto the couch.
“Hey, Kiri?” Kaminari prompted. When the redhead glanced over at him, he asked, “How far do you think you could throw me? Like, full-force.”
“Huh,” Kirishima voiced, scratching at his chin in thought. “Dunno. How much do you weigh?”
Katsuki’s phone chimed in his pocket and he didn’t spare a single glance at the two boys who were currently debating how tightly a human body could be curled into a ball.
He sat down on the sofa, pulling his phone back out.
Hitoshi [3:40 pm]
Lunch date 🐟
[picture description: a selfie of Shinso, sat cross-legged on the rain-dampened sidewalk. He had an open can of tuna precariously perched on his bent leg, pinching some of the fish between his fingers as he held it up in front of him. There’s a skinny calico frantically climbing up his chest, pupils blown wide as it stared at the offered food in interest]
Katsuki had to willfully ignore almost every aspect of the damn photo just to stay focused on the extremely large thing that was fucking wrong with it.
He quickly saved it before typing out his response.
Katsuki [3:41 pm]
A single can of tuna? Are you serious?
Hitoshi [3:41 pm]
I had to get something we could both eat 🥺
Katsuki [3:42 pm]
I’m gonna hurt you
Hitoshi [3:44 pm]
Sorry can’t hear you over the cat I don’t have stuffed down my shirt
Katsuki [3:44 pm]
Hitoshi don’t you fucking dare!
He hated the fact that it was almost impossible to tell when Shinso was being serious or when he was just acting like a fucking dork.
Especially when it came to his weird-ass obsession with cats.
There have been more than a few times where Shinso called him minutes before the purple-hair was supposed to come over, asking very concerning questions like, “You get lonely in that big apartment all by yourself, right?” which always gave Katsuki a split-second thrill deluding himself that Shinso might be about to ask to move in with him.
That is, up until the moment the purple-hair appeared at Katsuki’s door with a suspiciously fucking cat-shaped lump in his hoodie.
He’d hold his hands together in prayer, give Katsuki that awkward, absolutely fucking damning little smile of his, and murmur, “Please, Kats? It’d really mean a lot if you did this for me.”
And how the fuck else was Katsuki supposed to respond to that besides giving him an immediate yes?
Shinso’s reasoning for them staying at Katsuki’s apartment was that, as a direct quote, “Sugar’s not motherly- she’ll eat them.” And as he said that, he’d pout like it was just an unfortunate little thing as opposed to being one of the most unsettling unsolicited cat-facts Shinso had ever given him.
So yeah, occasionally Katsuki had to share his apartment with some skittish, fucked-up little cat. But it was never for long, and Shinso took care of everything and was always very appreciative to Katsuki afterwards.
He didn’t mind it too much.
But he still felt like he had the right to be pissed off about something!
Katsuki [3:46 pm]
If you come over reeking of tuna I’m gonna be pissed
Hitoshi [3:49 pm]
I really wish you said that before I dumped it on the ground and rolled around in it 😔
Katsuki couldn’t help it, he immediately snorted out a laugh at that. Then he covered his mouth with his hand, hating himself a little bit for it.
The asshole was not fucking funny.
But he was sort of… goofy, maybe? Cute? Stupid?
Katsuki didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it is he’s worried that he might really like it.
He was broken out of his internal rambling when Kaminari was suddenly tapping at his shoulder and excitedly saying, “Bakugo! Bakugo!”
Katsuki was almost a little irritated at the contact, but Kaminari’s eyes were surface-of-the-fucking-sun bright, and he was laughing as he said, “You know how you used to shot-put Mineta?”
He laughed in surprise once, and then he was grinning back at the blonde. “Yeah,” Katsuki said, his interest suddenly piqued as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Me and Cheeks almost got him through the uprights once before Aizawa caught us.”
Kaminari happily clapped his hands together, sparks zipping between his palms as he looked Katsuki in the eye and asked, “Think you could do that to me?”
A second later and Kaminari was being thrown over Kirishima’s shoulders in a fireman carry. The redhead looked directly at Katsuki and said, “Bet I can throw him farther than you,” before giving him a wild grin that rivaled the one Katsuki could feel on his own face.
One more second later and they were both racing to the door. And right after they stuffed their feet into their shoes, Katsuki yanked the door open and then barked out a laugh when Kirishima accidentally whacked the side of Kaminari’s head against the doorframe.
Hitoshi edged on caution when he knocked on Bakugo’s apartment door instead of just walking in unannounced like he usually did. It was almost two in the morning, which means that Bakugo should be fast asleep.
But Hitoshi knew him better than that, and the, “I’ll wait up if I fucking want to,” that Bakugo had given him might as well have been a direct promise.
So he knocked softly, wanting to give the blonde a little forewarning in case he needed it.
But the door opened before Hitoshi’s hand even had time to fall.
And there was Bakugo, breathing hard as if he had frantically run to answer the door. He gave Hitoshi a quick onceover before tensely looking him in the face. “Is there anything you need to do first?” he asked quickly.
“Um,” Hitoshi replied with eloquence. “What?
Bakugo rolled his eyes to the ceiling. And he’s wearing Hitoshi’s sweatshirt again, and the sleeves are flopping over his hands, and his arms are crossed tightly over the coffee shop logo on the front as he impatiently tapped his foot.
“Do you need to shower?” he asked irritably. “Are you hungry? Tired?” He suddenly planted his tapping foot flat on the floor, pointedly asking, “Are you good?”
Hitoshi’s eyes widened.
So Bakugo wanted to do this first thing.
Okay.
He took a deep breath, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “No, I’m all good.”
Then Hitoshi was being yanked into the apartment by the hand Bakugo roughly fisted in the front of his hoodie. The blonde slammed the door shut behind him, then promptly shoved him up against it.
“Jeez,” Hitoshi murmured breathlessly, huffing out a small laugh. “Not even gonna let me take my shoes off, huh?”
And was Hitoshi a tiny bit afraid of whatever the fuck was going on right now? Sure- but he considered it refreshing to find his survival instincts were still well intact by the rapid-fire thudding of his pulse in his ears.
But then Bakugo was bringing his arms up to drape them around Hitoshi’s neck and pull them close. He leaned a little further into Hitoshi, pushing his face into the purple-hair’s neck.
“I’m… sorry, I think,” he mumbled, his hands clenching into the back of Hitoshi’s hoodie.
Hitoshi blinked owlishly for a moment, sliding his hand into the blonde’s hair. “For what?” he asked softly, trying to keep his voice steady.
Because he hadn’t meant it, after all.
It had been a mistake, just like Hitoshi thought.
“For saying it the way that I did,” Bakugo spat, sounding irritated with himself. “I wanted it to… mean something, I guess.”
Hitoshi may have short-circuited for a moment.
Because this wasn’t at all what Hitoshi had expected, and he’s actually really mad at himself for not having more faith in Bakugo- the person who would do anything Hitoshi asked of him and then even more that he didn’t ask for.
So he squeezed the blonde in his arms a little tighter, resting his head against Bakugo’s as the blonde continued with, “But I fucked it up and ended up stressing us both out.” Bakugo stubbornly hid his face as he quietly added, “I wanted to make it… better for you.”
Sweet.
Bakugo is so fucking sweet to him.
“Because I do,” Bakugo blurted suddenly- insistently, like he was on the verge of outright begging Hitoshi to understand. “Love you, I mean.”
Then before Hitoshi could even get a word out- or say it back- Bakugo wound his hands into his hair in frustration. “Dammit! I did it again!”
He took a quick step away from Hitoshi, huffing and wringing his hands in the hem of his stolen sweater. Bakugo took a deep breath, and then he whipped his head up to sternly look Hitoshi in the eye.
And Hitoshi doesn’t think he’ll ever become accustomed to having Bakugo’s undivided attention on him. He’d be embarrassed about the effect it had on him if he wasn’t aware of how much Bakugo liked his reaction to it.
Because Hitoshi swallowed heavily, and Bakugo’s eyes tracked the action with a fervent intensity.
“Hitoshi,” Bakugo started lowly, staring right at him- watching him closely. He cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact as he firmly said, “I’m in love with you.”
Then he crossed the space separating them in a single step, and Hitoshi was crowded against the door again. Bakugo leaned into him, reaching to cradle the purple-hair’s face in his hands.
Bakugo swiped his thumbs over Hitoshi’s flushed cheeks, licking his lips before quietly saying, “I think I have for a long time- too long- embarrassingly fucking long.” And he sounded irritated, but Hitoshi knew better than to believe that. “I didn’t… mean to say it this morning, but-” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking to the side as he admitted, “But I was thinking about it.”
He cleared his throat again, firm as he said, “It wasn’t a mistake- and it definitely wasn’t a fucking joke.” Bakugo looked like he was thinking hard for a moment, licking his lips again before continuing with, “I just- in that moment I… felt it? Like, I really fucking felt it.
“So…” he murmured, now flushed red and scratching at the back of his neck. He glanced up at Hitoshi again as he said, “So, just- I love you.”
And now Bakugo’s staring down at his feet, and he just looked so unsure- like he didn’t know what he was doing- like that particular sequence of words were foreign on his tongue, unnatural in his mouth as if he’d never said them before.
It was probably annoying, but Hitoshi felt the need to quietly ask, “Have you ever told anyone that?”
Bakugo made a face. “My fucking mom makes me say it sometimes, but-” His voice broke off and he pointedly looked back down at the floor. He cleared his throat, softly saying, “But no, not in this… this context.”
And Hitoshi did not have a god complex- he's certain that his own self-deprecation kept his ego well in check.
But being told that he’s the first person Bakugo’s fallen in love with?
Like, ever?
Well, if anything was going to punt Hitoshi's self-confidence into overdrive, it was definitely that.
Because Hitoshi knows that Bakugo isn’t all that good at things like this- the required vulnerability made him more skittish than anything.
Which is why what happened that morning was so shocking- to them both, apparently.
Hitoshi didn’t need Bakugo to spell everything out for him. He was well aware that Bakugo loved him, he just never expected to hear him to say so out loud. And Hitoshi never said it because they’ve been dating for half a year and Bakugo still blushed like a virgin whenever Hitoshi gave him any kind of genuine praise.
Like, Hitoshi was pretty sure that Bakugo might actually full-force uppercut him on pure instinct if he ever heard Hitoshi say, “I love you,” to his face unprompted.
And Hitoshi needed his jaw to remain not wired shut in order to use his Quirk.
So Bakugo wasn’t good at things like this, but he more than made up for it. He was a physical person- he did things to show he cared.
Constantly.
When Hitoshi was off work and spent the night, the coffee maker was always preset for the time he woke up. Bakugo irritably explained to him once that all he does is some mental math about how Hitoshi had been sleeping lately, when he’d gone to bed, and what his workday had been like to guesstimate when he’d naturally wake up that day.
Bakugo always said stuff like that as if it was just a passive thing he was doing, like it didn’t really matter- but it was the effort, the thought and the care.
He learned to make Hitoshi’s favorite foods, and he dried his hair and fostered fucking cats for him- Bakugo just took it upon himself to make all these aspects of Hitoshi’s life a little bit easier.
And doing so seemed to make the blonde really happy.
Which was what made Hitoshi fall in love with him to begin with.
“Katsuki?” he prompted- and his voice sounded too low and too rough, even for him. But he was sure of this, now more than ever, and so he really wanted to-
“Don’t say it back!” Bakugo blurted sharply. Then his eyes widened in recognition of his phrasing and he quickly added a lame, “Like, not if you don’t mean it. D-don’t say it just because I said it.”
What a fucking wild concept that is to Hitoshi.
Oh, to be in Bakugo’s mind, the person who somehow thought he wasn’t able to be loved.
“Are you crazy?” Hitoshi asked, laughing in genuine disbelief. “Of fucking course I love you, Katsuki.”
Then he took Bakugo’s startled face in hand like the blonde had done to him. Hitoshi softly knocked their noses together, taking an indulgent moment to appreciate the blonde’s heated blush up close.
Hitoshi kissed him once, murmuring, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?”
Bakugo’s face darkened considerably, and now he’s hunching his shoulders up and fidgeting in Hitoshi’s hold.
And Hitoshi didn’t often get chances to say things like that, so even though he knew it was too much, he just needed to add this last little thing.
Consider it payback for the shock he’d given Hitoshi that morning.
So Hitoshi smiled, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just beneath Bakugo’s ear. He firmly gripped the back of the blonde’s neck before whispering, “I’m gonna marry you someday,” directly into his ear.
The actual squawk Bakugo let out before frantically trying to yank himself from Hitoshi’s hold was definitely going to be a core memory for them both- Hitoshi could already tell.
“You can’t just say shit like that to me!” Bakugo shouted, indignant as he rubbed his ear against his own shoulder like he was trying to wipe the feel of Hitoshi from his skin.
And that probably would’ve been kind of offensive if it had been anyone besides Bakugo doing it. But because it was Bakugo- the incredible person Hitoshi loved who loved him back- the action just ended up making Hitoshi smile instead.
“What?” Hitoshi said softly. He tilted Bakugo’s chin up to pointedly meet his eye, lowering his voice as he asked, “You’d rather I lie?”
“Of fucking course not!” Bakugo yelled- right in Hitoshi’s face. He tried to yank himself away again and Hitoshi decided to be merciful and let him go this time without much fuss.
The blonde continued rubbing at his ear with his hand, glaring at him like Hitoshi had done something crazy like jammed his finger into it.
“Marry you someday,” Bakugo repeated, sounding almost disgusted. But he was blushing so hard, and the awkward little quirk at the edges of his mouth told Hitoshi he might really like the idea of that.
Hitoshi filed that away to think about heavily later on.
Then Bakugo suddenly looked over at Hitoshi again, and now he was starting to grin- looking as equally hesitant as he did shamelessly pleased. “You’re a fucking psychopath for that.”
And Bakugo didn’t sound irritated at all anymore, now he just sounded plain old fucking happy. And not in the wild, crazed way that he did normally, but in the kind of way that was so soft and boyish that the mere sound of it punted Hitoshi’s brain right out of his head.
So Hitoshi just smiled back at him, making sure to sound as clear and sure as possible as he simply said, “I really do love you, Katsuki.”
Bakugo blushed, trying and failing to appear casual as he pointedly stared at the wall and grumbled, “Yeah, well, I fucking love you more, so how about that?”
That was such a Bakugo thing to say that Hitoshi couldn’t help laughing. He murmured, “It’s not a competition,” as he slid his hands beneath the back of the blonde’s shirt.
And Hitoshi knew exactly what Bakugo was going to say in response to that, because it was always the same thing every time. So when they both yelled, “Dumbass, everything’s a competition!” in each other’s faces, Hitoshi couldn’t restrain his ensuing laughter as Bakugo punched him directly in the chest.
Hitoshi passed out mere minutes after that conversation ended. He knew Bakugo wouldn’t hold it against him, but he still felt a tiny bit of regret at not taking advantage of the moment that happened between them.
He spent the night again, and so he woke up in Bakugo’s bed to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the clothes he shed the night before lying clean and folded on the empty space next to him on the mattress.
Hitoshi rolled over until he was face-down on Bakugo’s pillow. And he did feel like a fucking creep when he inhaled deeply, but he knew if Bakugo caught him doing it the blonde would just blush and call Hitoshi a dork, so he kind of didn’t care.
After struggling to unplug his phone from its charger, Hitoshi was unsurprised to see that Kaminari had texted him only an hour prior.
Denki [11:26 am]
I’d say “dear god please don’t tell Bakugo I sent you this”
But I know you get your best fun when tearing others down so
Do with this what you will ❤️
Hitoshi felt absolutely stupid at the giddiness bubbling up in his chest as he quickly maximized the photo beneath the messages.
Occasionally, Kaminari would send him embarrassing- but infuriatingly, never unflattering- pictures of Bakugo. Sometimes it was to get back at the blonde for something, other times it was to cheer Hitoshi up after a rough day.
He didn’t know which of those times this was, but Hitoshi won either way because the sight that met him when he opened the photo almost made him drop his phone in shock.
Because it was fucking pitiful.
It was of Bakugo, of course, wearing Hitoshi’s favorite sweater and melded into the corner of the sofa with his knees protectively pulled up to his chest. His hand was covered with a huge mess of bulky fabric, and inside of it was an ice cream container. He had marshmallow fluff and blue smeared across his mouth, and he had his entire spoon stuffed between his lips as he gazed in absolute misery down at his empty pint.
Hitoshi could scream, throw up, and kiss Kaminari on the mouth- in that order, because it was downright treacherous that Kaminari took this photo to begin with.
Hitoshi [12:32 pm]
Marry me right now
Denki [12:34 pm]
I knew you’d love it
What do you think, is it blackmail worthy?
Hitoshi [12:35 am]
Let me ask him
It wasn’t often that Hitoshi found himself excited enough after just waking up to voluntarily forego coffee in chase of a surprise adventure.
He found Bakugo in the spare room, more notably known for being his office. The blonde was sat with a leg drawn up in his computer chair, face too close to the monitor as he mumbled something under his breath, tapping at his chin.
Dammit, Bakugo was wearing his glasses- it was going to be harder for Hitoshi to focus on teasing him now.
Hitoshi lightly knocked on the frame of the open door. “Hey, are you busy?”
He didn’t actually want to bother Bakugo if he was working on something important, but he did have an objective here.
Bakugo turned towards him distractedly, then he pushed his glasses up on his nose (a direct attack). “Not really,” he replied, his voice hoarse from disuse. He cleared his throat then, tearing his eyes from the computer fully and swiveling his chair to face Hitoshi. “You sleep okay?”
That made Hitoshi smile a little- and because of it, he took that as an unfair attack too.
He needed to focus.
“Pretty good,” he murmured, taking slow steps to approach the blonde. He stopped directly in front of Bakugo, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning over him. He tilted his head, quietly asking, “How’d you sleep, love?”
And Hitoshi had never called him that before, as he worried such emotionally charged language would make Bakugo skittish.
Unsurprisingly, he was absolutely correct.
“No!” Bakugo shouted, pushing his heels against the floor to try and scoot the chair away from Hitoshi. “No- nope! We are not doing that so fucking casually!”
Hitoshi’s grip on the chair arms tightened. “What is it?” he asked, unable to restrain his shit-eating grin. “You don’t love me anymore?”
Bakugo’s responding glare would’ve been sort of terrifying is he wasn’t already blushing so hard. He clicked his tongue in irritation, growling, “Keep this up and we might fucking get there.”
An empty threat if Hitoshi ever heard one, but the purple-hair was more than pleased to change the subject.
So he grinned, idly asking, “How would you describe your mood right now?
That had Bakugo squinting at him critically. “Why?” he asked slowly- and there was so much distrust in his voice, like he thought Hitoshi was up to something.
Which like, Hitoshi was.
But he still pouted in response because he knew it’d work in his favor.
“Always so suspicious,” Hitoshi murmured as he made to slowly climb onto Bakugo’s lap- difficult in a computer chair, but Hitoshi was a practiced professional. He pinched the arm of Bakugo’s glasses between his fingers as he settled in, gently pushing them up to rest messily in the blonde’s bangs.
“I like these on you,” he said, tapping their foreheads together.
Bakugo rolled his eyes at that, but he still grumbled, “I know,” as his cheeks dusted with pink and he firmly wrapped his arms around Hitoshi’s waist.
“Hey, babe?” Hitoshi voiced quietly, running his fingers through the blonde’s hair. He leaned in a bit closer to whisper, “I love you,” into Bakugo’s ear, and then relished the immediate shudder it earned him.
And it was still new for the both of them, so when Bakugo rasped out an overwhelmed, “Dammit, I love you too,” in return and nuzzled his face into Hitoshi’s neck, Hitoshi could feel the words resonating through his whole body.
It was highly effective.
But Hitoshi’s brain was chanting, “The goal, the goal!” over and over again. So he tried desperately not to pinch Bakugo’s cheeks as he took a deep breath in preparation for what he was about to do.
“I need you to explain something to me real quick,” Hitoshi said, pulling his phone from the pocket of his sweats.
Bakugo rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I fucking knew you were up to something,” he muttered, but he still waited, impatiently tapping his fingers against Hitoshi’s waist as the purple-hair opened the photo from the folder he had it saved in.
Hitoshi took a steadying breath, reciting continuous prayers for his own safety in his head as he turned his phone around to show Bakugo.
And as Bakugo’s eyes actually bulged out of his head as he took in the details of the photo, Hitoshi instinctively tightened his grip on his phone.
That ended up being a good call, because Bakugo immediately made a grab at the device, shouting, “Give that to me right fucking now!”
“Over my dead body,” Hitoshi laughed. “What’s the problem?” he asked, feigning innocence even though his grin was devious at best. He tensed his thighs to hold the blonde in place, holding his phone away. “It’s a candid shot- a Kacchan in his truest form.”
“It looks like shit!” Bakugo shouted back, furious blush climbing his neck.
“Katsuki,” Hitoshi said with feeling, holding a tender hand to his heart. “I want to wallpaper every single surface of my apartment with this photo.”
He held his phone way over Bakugo’s head then, where the blonde had no hope of reaching it when he was pinned down like this.
That, of course, did nothing to stop Bakugo’s efforts as he frantically reached for the phone. “You piece of shit with your long, gangly-ass arms!”
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Kats,” Hitoshi said. “I’ll get things out of the high cabinets so you don’t have to climb all the way up onto the counter.”
“It happened one time!” Bakugo shouted indignantly, leaning as far forwards as possible to grab at Hitoshi’s raised arm.
They both knew Bakugo put a little too much gumption into it when the computer chair suddenly tilted onto two wheels.
Hitoshi’s free hand flew out to hold the edge of the desk in a death-grip, but it wasn’t necessary in the slightest. Because Bakugo had already firmly planted both of his feet onto the floor in preparation, instantly righting the chair the moment after it started tipping.
Hitoshi let out a slow breath. “That was quick work you did there,” he said, looking back to Bakugo. “I swear I saw my whole life flash before my eyes.”
“You literally jump off of buildings like, daily,” Bakugo grumbled, rolling his eyes. Then he made a face, suddenly looking right at Hitoshi. He had an insistent little crinkle between his eyebrows as he demanded, “You think I’d let you fucking fall?”
“I’m allowed to be impressed by you even though I expect it, right?” Hitoshi asked, smiling a little as he tilted his head. He tapped Bakugo on the nose. “I know you’d never let me get hurt.”
And that was one of the very few lies Hitoshi was willing to tell his boyfriend. Hitoshi got hurt all the time- they both did, as their jobs begged it. But he knew how protective Bakugo was, and how much it bothered the blonde whenever he caught Hitoshi wincing.
So in a situation like this, Bakugo really wouldn’t let Hitoshi get hurt. And even though Hitoshi’s certain he’d be fine after a topple from such a low height, it made him happy that Bakugo was so attentive to it.
Bakugo seemed… placated by his words, but Hitoshi wasn’t finished just yet.
All he had to do was raise his phone and Bakugo’s shoulders immediately hunched up again.
“Give me that!” he shouted, again reaching for the phone.
“Oh, Kats, you’ve just gotta let me keep it,” Hitoshi insisted, acting like he’d ever be willing to give in. He wrapped his arms around the blonde tightly. “Please, please, please?”
Then Bakugo looked right at him, big, goofy grin suddenly on his face as he asked, “Does it make you feel better to beg for it before I tell you no?” He squeezed Hitoshi in his arms, smirked at him, and said, “You poor fucking thing,” before dissolving into a fit of boyish laughter that made Hitoshi’s breath stutter in his lungs.
Because… cute, right?
Hitoshi shook his head.
They needed to get back on track, because if Bakugo grinned at him like that again Hitoshi was going to lose.
So Hitoshi carefully shifted off of Bakugo’s lap and back onto his feet. He took a moment to zoom way into the photo- right onto Bakugo’s sad, sticky face before he turned his phone to the blonde, pouted and mocked, “Poor little guy.”
Bakugo was on his feet in an instant.
“Delete that!” he yelled, futilely jumping up to reach at Hitoshi’s phone. “Delete it right now!”
Hitoshi hopped back a step, holding his free hand out against Bakugo’s chest. “You’re crazy if you think I haven’t sent this to myself on like, five different platforms already.”
“I look like a fucking idiot!”
“I think you look really cute.” Then Hitoshi held his hand up in front of him when Bakugo immediately growled at him. “I’m being absolutely serious. It’s adorable in like, the most pathetic way possible.”
Just the sound of the word pathetic being used to describe him definitely broke something in Bakugo’s brain. He looked like he couldn’t decide whether he should be embarrassed or furious, so he asked for clarity, likely to base his decision off of.
“How the fuck is something like that cute?”
“Kats, I have never seen you look so, just…” And he would not say pathetic or pitiful, even though those were definitely the most accurate words to use. “You just look really upset, but in the kind of way where nothing is actually wrong, so it doesn’t hurt my chest to look at it.
“So I’m able to appreciate it,” he added, looking over at the blonde. “And I think that makes me love you more.”
And Hitoshi was fully aware of how manipulative his phrasing was, but it’s not like he was lying either. Bakugo was clearly an objectively attractive person- but it almost seemed unfair that he remained attractive even when he was sick, or upset, or even when the blonde was absolutely sloppy drunk.
He was hot and adorable and Hitoshi was very grateful for that.
But this photo was fucking hilarious and Hitoshi would let nothing dampen his fun.
He needed to plead his case.
“A few weeks ago,” Hitoshi continued quickly in explanation. “When I came over after the most shit day at work, I was so tired I couldn’t get my boots untied- and then I got so pissed off about it that I started crying.” He looked at Bakugo. “You started laughing right in my face, and when that made me cry harder, you apologized and said something like, ‘I don’t think you’ve ever looked cuter’.”
And Hitoshi phrased it like he thought that’s what Bakugo said, but it had rang in his head often enough since that he knows he recited it perfectly, huffy little laugh at the end and everything.
Hitoshi cleared his throat. “And then you asked to take a picture of me, and I agreed.”
Bakugo grinned a little at that, definitely reliving the memory. “Why’d you agree to that, anyways?”
A bold question considering they both already knew the answer to it.
“Well, how else can I respond when you ask me for something?” he asked quietly as he looked at the blonde. “Have I ever told you no?”
The “And have you ever told me no?’ remained unspoken, but Hitoshi was certain they both heard it.
Granted, the craziest thing either of them had ever asked the other for was definitely Hitoshi asking Bakugo to foster random cats he procured, which he had honestly been super surprised that the blonde agreed to it (and continued doing so).
Hitoshi figured if Bakugo was willing to do that for him, then Hitoshi could allow a fucking horrific picture of himself to exist in the world, so long as Bakugo was the only one who ever saw it.
So Hitoshi pocketed his phone, noticing the way Bakugo’s eyes stayed locked onto the pocket he slid it into. He held his hands together in front of him, smiling a little as he asked, “Please let me keep it, Kats. I absolutely 100% fucking promise that I’ll never show it to anyone.”
The look on Bakugo’s face couldn’t even be considered a glare anymore, now he was just pouting as he grumbled, “Why do you wanna keep it so bad?”
“It makes me wanna wrap you up in a blanket and carry you around in my pocket,” Hitoshi said, watching the way Bakugo’s face dropped into petulant disapproval at that. “And it honestly kinda makes me wanna just beat the shit out of you.”
He could tell by the indignant purse of Bakugo’s lips that the blonde hated the idea of being thought of in such a way, but that he also understood exactly what Hitoshi was talking about.
“Fucking fine!” he yelled, rubbing his hands up the sides of his face. “But you better not show anyone!”
Hitoshi was glad that Bakugo hadn’t yet realized that obviously either Kaminari or Kirishima had to have sent him the photo, so it already existed outside of Hitoshi’s phone.
They’d cover that if it ever got brought up- but Bakugo would have to do some really fucked up shit to have Kaminari mad enough with him that he’d share the photo with anyone besides Hitoshi.
Maybe Hitoshi would ask him not to.
“At least I’m not crying like a fucking baby in mine,” Bakugo suddenly added with a teasing grin, looking very much like that thought alone made him feel completely better about it.
Hitoshi grinned back at him.
“You know,” Hitoshi started slowly. “My promise was phrased in a very particular way on purpose.”
It hadn’t been. Hitoshi had absolutely no desire to let anyone else lay their eyes on Bakugo looking so… low. But Hitoshi also knew how to have his fun.
Bakugo rose to the bait spectacularly, same as he always did.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he asked insistently, jabbing Hitoshi in the chest.
“Aww,” Hitoshi cooed at him, knowing it would promise him deliciously rough treatment at the very least. He again produced his phone, picture already displayed as he turned it around. Then he pouted at the blonde as he said, “He doesn’t look like he understands either,” and trailed his fingertip down his own cheek to outline the path of the tear he wasn’t even close to shedding.
Hitoshi was flat on his back before his brain even had time to register that Bakugo just leg-swept him. Bakugo, of course, had cushioned the back of Hitoshi’s head with his hand before the purple-hair could whack it against the hard floor.
Hitoshi looked up at Bakugo and he grinned, tilting his head and saying, “I love you, Katsuki,” as seriously as he could muster before dissolving into giggles behind his hands.
“I hate your fucking guts,” Bakugo spat back, climbing on top of him and pinning Hitoshi’s wrists above his head as he sat on his chest. “Disrespectful little shit.”
“Oh, you want respect?” Hitoshi asked, unable to keep himself from smirking. He seamlessly slipped his hands from the blonde’s grip, running them up his legs and digging his thumbs into the meat of Bakugo’s inner thighs. “Why don’t you make me, Katsuki?”
Bakugo was dragging Hitoshi to his bedroom a moment later, hand clenched tightly around the back of Hitoshi’s neck as he walked him down the hallway, leaving the work on his computer sitting open and forgotten in the spare room.
Hitoshi [3:19 pm]
Definitely blackmail worthy
Denki [3:22 pm]
I’ll add it to the folder 👍