Chapter Text
Every now and then, Todoroki Shouto is reminded that he does not understand girls.
“Ugh, I cannot deal. Too hot.”
He side-eyes his companion where she lies flopped on the ground of the training arena, then returns to fighting with the bandage he’s trying to wrap around his wrist. “It’s winter, Camie. Why are you hot?”
The older girl waves him off with a limp flick of her wrist. “Pshhyeah, no durr I’m hot af, but I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout me this time, pookie.”
Shouto finally secures the bandage in place and peers at her owlishly, nonplussed. “Oh. You meant attractive hot, not temperature hot.”
“Yep yep, you got it.” In one smooth movement, Camie flips over and props up her chin in her palms. “Y’know, Shouto-babe, you’re a real hottie yourself—”
“So you’ve said. Many times.”
“—but like, you know I’m just playin’ a good ole rousing game of make-the-hotties-have-a-mental-breakdown with ya, right?” Shouto opens his mouth to respond, but Camie steamrolls right over him. “Cuz I’m a girl’s gay, the they’s bae, the femme’s girlfriend, the biggest gal pal around! I might talk the talk with the bros and hoes, but I don’t walk the walk; it’s just for funsies, y’know? Not my #LifeGoals.”
Shouto stares at her blankly, lost in the rapid-fire rhyming washing over his ears. He has no idea what she’s on about now. “…Sure?”
Camie puffs out her cheeks and kicks her feet back and forth in the air. “Ugh, I’m talkin’ about giiiiiirls, dee-de-dee. And femmes. And—argh, the deets are, like, suuuuper none of your beeswax, but ya get the idea.”
Oh. That makes much more sense to Shouto. He nods thoughtfully. “Good for you. And you’re telling me this because…?”
She blinks at him like he’s an idiot, drumming her manicured nails on her jaw. “I want you to gimme the digits for those babes. Duh.”
Every conversation he has with this strange woman leaves Shouto reeling from whiplash. Wasn’t she just talking about girls? But she’s also been asking after his number at the start and end of every remedial lesson for weeks now? He furrows his brows at Camie for a moment or two, hoping she’ll give more clarity, but she only sticks out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. Finally, Shouto says, “…I’m not a lesbian.”
Camie snickers at him. “You’d make a good one, trust.”
“Thank you? I think?”
The older girl outright cackles at the look of total incomprehension on his face. “So pretty, but sooooo dumb. But anygays!” She leans forward on her elbows, giving him an intense stare. “Girls. Women. Flipping their hair and smiling. I need those hotties to smile at me.”
Shouto is almost afraid to ask, but… “Which hotties?”
Camie’s eyes light up. She squeals, “Oh em gee! That means you’re totes gonna help me, right? Right?!” She doesn’t wait for an answer, simply wriggling around like some kind of worm to grab her phone from…somewhere. Shouto isn’t quite sure where the pockets in her skintight bodysuit are, but he’s definitely not going to ask. Finally, she retrieves it with a triumphant “Hah!” and heaves herself upright, blowing a messy strand of sandy hair out of her face as she does.
The back of Shouto’s neck prickles with wariness as Camie’s practiced fingers fly across the screen. What kind of hellish video is she pulling up? What is he in for? Last time a girl showed him a video of someone she thought was attractive, there were far too many tentacles, all doing…things. It seemed very overwhelming, in Shouto’s opinion. He’s still half-convinced that Ashido was just trolling him.
Still, at Camie’s insistence, he reluctantly leans closer to watch the video. Within seconds, his bi-colored brows lift in mild surprise. “Oh. You could’ve just said Yaomomo and Kendou.” Honestly, he approves. Her taste in women is better than he thought.
Camie gasps, tearing her eyes away from the familiar commercial. “So you do know them!”
“…Yes.”
She grabs Shouto’s shoulders and shakes him back and forth like a rag doll. ”WHY DO YOU HURT ME LIKE THIS, PRETTY BOY?! INTRODUCE MEEEEEE!!!”
“F-f-fine,” Shouto says, teeth rattling from the rapid movement.
Sparkles dance eagerly around Camie’s head as she squeals, “Yesssss, thankyouthankyouthankyou!! I owe you my life, babes!” Unable to contain her excitement, she flings her arms around Shouto’s neck and pulls him face-first into her bosom. The boy takes to being smothered like a long-suffering former stray, hissing and desperately attempting to remove himself from his friend’s unyielding grasp.
Finally, Camie notices and lets him go with a giggle. “Ooooops! Sorry, my dude, I’ll ix-nay on the urder-may.”
Red-faced, Shouto shoots her a half-hearted glare while he pats his hair back into place. “Now I almost don’t want to help you out.”
“Ohmigod, no! Pleaaaaaase?” the older girl gasps, clasping her hands together in a desperate plea. Shouto looks at her, taking in the puppy dog eyes, the so-excited-she’s-vibrating-in-place aura, the hope, and finds that he can’t refuse her. He quirks a small grin and watches her whole countenance light up. “Alright,” he says with a nod, “I’ll help.”
“YES!” Camie punches the air. Tiny fireworks explode above her head, forming a series of multicolored hearts in illusory smoke. Before they can dissipate, she turns to Shouto with wild eyes and holds out her hand. “Gimme your phone. Hotties wait for no man to get over his gay number gatekeeping.”
Shouto is horribly confused. Again. “What?”
Camie snatches his phone from where it dangles precariously between his fingertips and rolls her eyes, snarking, “You’ve been keepin’ your number so secret, it’s practically in the closet, Shouto-babe. Let those digits’ freak flag fly.” She finishes punching in her number and sends a text, presumably to herself.
Shouto stands by what he said before. He doesn’t understand girls at all.