Chapter Text
[11:24 PM]
Katsu:
come get me
right now
Katsu:
seriously
hurry
Katsu:
denki poisoned me
Katsu:
not in the murder way
in the gummy way
Katsu:
i can feel colors in my teeth
Katsu:
TODOROKI SHOTO
ANSWER UR FUCKIN PHONE
Katsu:
ur my boyfriend
do something
Katsu:
im gonna die probably
Katsu:
unless ur fast
*
Todoroki stared at the screen.
Then stared some more.
Then blinked very slowly, thumb hovering over the message bubble as his brain ran a diagnostic.
So either Katsuki is being held hostage by psychedelic candy… or he's drunk-texting me from a nightclub in Shibuya again.
That had only happened once.
And to be fair, Bakugo had not known it was a gay club.
Though Todoroki remained unconvinced that was an accident.
A second buzz lit up his phone:
Katsu:
dont tell eiji
hes complicit
Katsu:
bring soup
Right.
That did it.
Todoroki grabbed his keys and wallet, slipping into his shoes with all the urgency of a man whose boyfriend was probably just being dramatic.
He paused long enough to throw on a hoodie—Bakugo’s, because he liked the way it smelled—and pocketed a granola bar on his way out.
No soup, unfortunately. Soup would have to wait.
The drive was only fifteen minutes, and Todoroki set his phone in the cup holder, glancing at it now and then like it might provide more clues.
None came. Just the glow of his favorite message thus far:
ur my boyfriend. do something.
It was stupid. And soft.
And so very Katsuki.
They’d been together for a while now—three years and change, living together for two, and in love for what felt like a century.
Todoroki had never been one for loud declarations, but Bakugo didn’t need them.
He knew.
And on nights like this—nights when Bakugo called instead of soldiering through whatever fresh hell Kaminari had unleashed—it made Todoroki feel… needed.
Trusted.
He kind of liked it.
Not that he’d admit that to anyone but the steering wheel.
*
The city rolled by outside his window, headlights sweeping across rain covered pavement and the occasional drunk couple arguing outside a ramen bar.
His GPS glowed softly, directing him toward Kirishima’s apartment complex like he hadn’t already memorized the route.
He’d been there a hundred times, usually dragging Bakugo out of post-mission bro hangouts where “one drink” somehow became six shots and a karaoke battle.
But this felt different.
Weirder.
Possibly weed-related.
Todoroki pulled up to the curb and killed the engine.
His eyes lifted toward the second floor window—lights on, music thumping faintly through the glass.
He swore he saw someone’s shadow doing a dance against the curtain.
It was probably Kaminari. Or a poltergeist. Hard to say.
He took a deep breath, and got out of the car.
*
The door opened before Todoroki even knocked.
Kirishima stood in the frame, smiling way too hard. Like, way too hard.
His eyes were glassy, his pupils dilated, and he was sweating slightly despite wearing gym shorts and a tank top that said “Suns Out, Guns Out” with a little smiley face sun in sunglasses.
“Shoto!” he greeted, cheerful and loud. “Hey, bro. Great to see you. Nothing’s wrong. Come in.”
Todoroki blinked. “You just said nothing’s wrong before I even asked.”
“I did?” Kirishima’s grin wobbled. “No I didn’t.”
Todoroki stepped inside.
There was a bowl of what looked like melted ice cream on the coffee table. A single sock on the ceiling fan.
Kaminari was face-down on the rug, muttering something.
And Bakugo was sitting on the couch like a grumpy kid, arms folded, jacket zipped all the way up to his chin.
Todoroki stared.
Everyone stared back.
“Hey,” Todoroki said, cautiously.
“Hey babe,” Bakugo mumbled. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Todoroki said.
“You say that like someone who’s definitely mad,” Kaminari mumbled into the carpet.
“I’m not mad,” Todoroki repeated.
There was a long pause.
Bakugo cracked first.
“They were gummies, okay,” he yelled, pointing at Kaminari like he was identifying a perp in a lineup. “I thought they were regular gummies. Like sour gummy worms. But they tasted like ass.”
“I told you they tasted weird,” Kirishima said, throwing his hands up.
“Yeah but you kept eating them,” Bakugo snapped.
“So did you!”
“They were infused,” Kaminari said helpfully from the floor. “Cannabis. THC.”
Todoroki sighed. “How many did you guys eat?”
There was a beat.
“Define ‘many,’” Kirishima said.
“Why,” Todoroki asked slowly, “would you eat gummies from Kaminari?”
“Okay rude,” Kaminari said, flipping onto his back. “They were from my cousin. He said they were ‘life-changing.’ How was I supposed to know he meant like actually reality altering?”
“I think I astral projected,” Kirishima whispered.
“I haven’t blinked in an hour,” Bakugo added, eyes wide.
Todoroki ran a hand down his face. “Okay. Okay. This is fine.”
Bakugo clutched the pillow beside him like a lifeline. “What if it’s not fine. What if I get fired? What if I die. What if my heart explodes and my Quirk goes off and I take out half the block and the agency fires me and I have to become a bartender—”
“You’d be a great bartender,” Kaminari said, pointing at him.
Bakugo turned to Todoroki, eyes big and desperate. “Sho. Sho. Am I breathing weird? Can I borrow your pee if I get drug tested?”
“You’re fine,” Todoroki said gently, sitting beside him and pressing a cool hand to his forehead. “Your breathing is fine. Your face is doing a lot, though.”
“Because I can feel time, Shoto. It’s so heavy. We gotta get married soon.”
Kirishima snorted.
“Okay. That’s it,” Todoroki said, standing. “Everyone hydrate. Suki, you’re coming home. Kirishima, you’re in charge of Kaminari. Kaminari, stop pretending the rug is talking to you.”
“It’s whispering secrets,” Kaminari muttered.
“Tell it to write them down.”
*
Todoroki filled two glasses with water and shoved them into Kirishima and Kaminari’s hands.
They both blinked at them like they’d never seen water before.
“Is this... tap?” Kaminari asked.
“Drink it or perish,” Todoroki said, already disappearing into Kaminari’s room and pulling out clean clothes from drawers like he lived there.
“How do you know where my clothes live?”
“You’re a creature of habit, Denki,” Todoroki replied, tossing them both sweatpants and oversized T-shirts. “Now change. Slowly. No more gummies, I confiscated them. Call me if it gets weird.”
“You mean weirder?” Kirishima asked, voice muffled as he peeled off his tank top.
Todoroki didn’t dignify that with an answer.
He simply pressed a remote into Kaminari’s hand and gestured to the TV mounted on the wall. “Watch something relaxing. Nature documentary. No action, no horror, no hentai.”
“I wasn’t gonna—!”
“Uh-huh.”
He turned to adjust the pillows, fluffing them like he hadn’t already saved the city six times this week, and gestured for them to lie down.
Kirishima did. Immediately.
Kaminari dropped his pants next, right there in the middle of the room.
Bakugo, who’d been silently clinging to Todoroki’s arm like a kid, suddenly surged forward like a bodyguard reacting to a threat.
“Hey!” Bakugo barked, shoving Todoroki behind him with a hand to the chest. “You don’t just drop your shit in front of people, you animal.”
Kaminari blinked. “Bro. We’ve all showered together.”
“Not the point! Sho doesn’t wanna see your junk, dude.”
“How do you know?!”
Todoroki pressed two fingers to his temple, sighing as he gently pried Bakugo’s hand off his chest. “He’s just changing, baby. Go wait by the door.”
Bakugo sulked, muttering about decency, but obeyed.
Todoroki turned back one last time to Kirishima and Kaminari, now dressed, flopped side-by-side on the bed.
“Call me if anything feels off,” he said.
“We love you,” Kaminari whispered, already halfway to dreaming.
Todoroki paused. “I know.”
He clicked off the light, pulled the door gently shut, and turned to find Bakugo standing guard at the apartment entrance.
“You good now?”
“No,” Bakugo said. “You almost saw his dick.”
Todoroki nodded solemnly. “A tragedy narrowly avoided.”
Todoroki took Bakugo’s wrist, lacing their fingers together, and guided him out the door.
And because he was him, because he couldn’t not—he turned, locked it behind them with his spare key, and triple-checked it was secure.
Because those idiots needed protection from the world.
And possibly from themselves.
*
“I’ll help you down the stairs,” Todoroki said, already reaching out.
“I’m fine,” Bakugo snapped, slapping his hand away. “I can walk.”
He took one defiant step forward.
Then another.
Then paused on the third.
Unfortunately, the fourth step betrayed him.
His balance teetered. His knees did something wobbly.
He grabbed the banister with both hands.
“…You good?” Todoroki asked.
Bakugo didn’t answer. He was too busy squinting down the stairs and trying to focus.
Todoroki took a slow step forward. “I’m just going to stand near you. Not helping. Just... observing.”
Bakugo grunted.
It took a full five minutes to descend one flight of stairs.
At one point, Bakugo barked “Don’t rush me!” even though Todoroki hadn’t moved.
By the time they got to the sidewalk, Bakugo exhaled like he’d just scaled Mt. Fuji.
Todoroki pointed to their car across the street.
Bakugo immediately started walking toward the wrong one. A silver sedan. Not even close.
“Katsuki.”
“What,” Bakugo said, hand already yanking the door handle. “Why’s it locked?”
“That’s not our car, baby.”
Bakugo turned around, scandalized. “Well, whose car is it, and why is it copying ours?!”
“It’s a Honda Civic. I drive a black Range.”
Bakugo stared at him.
Then stared at the car.
Then back at Todoroki. “…You’re not being helpful.”
Todoroki led him gently across the street, ignoring the way Bakugo whispered traitor car under his breath.
When they finally reached the right vehicle, Todoroki clicked the unlock button.
“Took you long enough,” Bakugo huffed, flinging himself into the passenger seat.
Todoroki got in, buckled up, and turned the engine on.
Bakugo immediately reclined the seat to maximum tilt. “I think my spine is full of bees,” he said.
Todoroki glanced over. “Do you want to lay down in the back instead?”
Bakugo gasped. “Are you trying to get me car sick?”
“No,” Todoroki said patiently. “Just offering options.”
Bakugo shifted dramatically, tucking his jacket up over his chin. “I’m never eating candy again. Candy betrayed me. Candy’s a liar. Candy used me.”
Todoroki smiled a little as he pulled onto the road. “That’s unfortunate. You like candy.”
“I liked candy,” Bakugo muttered bitterly. “Past tense. I’ve evolved. I’m a new man. Stronger. Wiser. Hornier, somehow.”
Todoroki didn’t even blink. “Thanks for the update.”
Bakugo sighed and flopped a hand onto Todoroki’s knee. “Babe.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let me fall out.”
“You’re wearing a seatbelt.”
“I’m serious.”
“I won’t let you fall out.”
“Promise.”
“I promise,” Todoroki said, squeezing his hand. “No window ejection. Not on my watch.”
Bakugo exhaled, clearly comforted, and let himself sink a little deeper into the seat.
His fingers twitched once, twice, before curling tighter into Todoroki’s knee.
“I love you,” Bakugo mumbled.
“I know.”
“I would die for you.”
“You almost did. On the stairs.”
“I’m serious,” Bakugo said, head rolling slightly to look at him. “You’re so sweet. You’re like… like a sexy glacier.”
Todoroki blinked. “Thank you?”
“Anytime, big boy.”
Todoroki glanced at him fondly, then back at the road. “Do you want some food before we get home?”
Bakugo perked up. “What kind?”
“Anything. I’ll even let you pick.”
Bakugo sat up a little straighter. “Chicken nuggets.”
“You got it, baby.”
“With honey mustard.”
“Of course.”
Bakugo stared at him for a second longer, eyes wide and shiny. “God, you’re perfect.”
Todoroki just smiled, thumb rubbing little circles on Bakugo’s knuckles.
“You’re a lot when you’re high,” Todoroki said softly. “But I don’t mind.”
*
The drive-thru speaker crackled to life. “Welcome to MegaBite Chicken. Can I take your order?”
Bakugo rolled down his window, even though he was on the wrong side of the car. “Yeah—uh. Hi.”
Todoroki glanced over.
Bakugo was sitting straighter now, eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration.
“Can I get a ten piece chicken nugget meal?” he asked, loud and slow, like the employee was two cities away. “With honey mustard. And curly fries. And—wait.” He turned dramatically to Todoroki. “You want?”
“I’m driving,” Todoroki replied.
“So?”
“I’ll eat something at home.”
Bakugo squinted at him. “Get the wrap.”
“I don’t want the wrap, sweetheart.”
“You love the wrap.”
“Suki.”
The drive-thru speaker crackled again. “Sir?”
“Fine,” Todoroki sighed. “One grilled wrap, please. No tomatoes.”
“And a second fry,” Bakugo shouted. “I mean, please. Or whatever.”
*
They pulled up to the window, where the teenage employee looked at them like he’d just seen God and He was stoned out of his mind in the passenger seat.
“$19.82,” the kid said.
Bakugo attempted to pay with his hero agency ID card.
Todoroki stepped in with an apologetic smile and his actual debit card.
As they waited for the food, Bakugo reached for Todoroki’s hand and said in a deadly serious voice, “Don’t let them forget my sauce.”
“I reminded him, baby.”
“Good. Sauce security is key.”
When the bag was finally passed through the window, Bakugo checked it for his sauce packets, and then cradled it.
*
Once they reached their apartment complex, Todoroki parked the car and let Bakugo climb out on his own, which—after a short argument with the seatbelt—he managed to do.
Then came the door.
Oh, the door.
Bakugo stood before it. He pulled out his key ring. Flipped through it.
Tried the car key.
“Doesn’t work,” he muttered.
Then the mailbox key.
Then his Pro Hero office keycard, which he tapped against the doorknob.
Behind him, Todoroki said nothing.
Just watched, fighting the urge to smile.
Watched his very powerful, very smart, very high boyfriend attempt to seduce their front door into opening.
Bakugo growled in frustration. “Why are there so many keys, Roki. This system is flawed.”
“I agree,” Todoroki said gently, stepping closer. “Want me to try?”
“I can do it, damn it.”
Todoroki hummed.
Then leaned forward. Because he was powerful too.
Bakugo stilled when warm lips brushed against his cheek—soft, sweet, a distraction spell cast with perfect timing.
While Bakugo stood blinking, stunned, Todoroki plucked the correct key from his hand and unlocked the door in one smooth motion.
He guided Bakugo inside with a hand at the small of his back.
Inside the apartment, Todoroki set the keys down, slipped off his shoes, and headed to the living room.
Bakugo followed, flopping onto the couch and tearing into the bag like a raccoon.
Todoroki opened the wrap container.
It was empty.
He blinked, then looked over at Bakugo.
Who was already halfway through chewing something suspiciously leafy.
“…Suki.”
Bakugo looked up mid-chew, eyes wide. “What.”
“I think that one was mine, baby.”
Bakugo froze.
Looked down at the food in his lap.
Then back up. “I thought you got nuggets.”
“No. That was you.”
“Oh.”
Pause.
“…Oops?”
Todoroki sighed.
Bakugo reached into the bag, pulled out the last nugget, and offered it solemnly. “For you. My love.”
*
Todoroki had just finished wiping honey mustard off the coffee table when he heard it.
A soft rustling.
A dramatic thud.
And, “Shooo…”
Todoroki turned slowly.
Bakugo was standing in the hallway, shirt halfway off, arms tangled above his head like he’d been attacked mid-strip.
His hair was a mess. His eyes were low lidded and glassy.
And yet—
He smirked.
“You want me,” Bakugo said, swaying slightly.
Todoroki blinked. “You’re stuck.”
Bakugo wiggled his hips. “I’m available.”
“You’re stuck inside your shirt.”
“I’m stuck inside your fantasies.”
“Your elbow is at a weird angle.”
“I’m doing interpretive seduction,” Bakugo announced, straining to get the shirt over his head. “Shut up and be dazzled.”
Todoroki walked over slowly. Composed.
A man who had pulled his partner out of villain battles, burning buildings, and now… whatever this was.
He gently peeled the shirt up, freeing Bakugo’s arms. “There.”
“Thanks,” Bakugo said. “Now take off your pants.”
Todoroki arched a brow. “I thought you were doing the seducing.”
“I am.” Bakugo stepped closer, pressing his chest against Todoroki’s, looking up at him with wild confidence. “I’m irresistible. I’m an apex predator. I’m literally so hot it’s criminal.”
“You’re sticky with nugget sauce,” Todoroki murmured, brushing a smear off his collarbone.
Bakugo growled. “It’s called flavor.”
Todoroki kissed his cheek. “You wanna take a shower first?”
“I want you to take a shower with me.”
Todoroki considered. “Okay.”
Bakugo gasped. “Wait—really?”
“You asked nicely.”
Bakugo immediately grabbed his hand. “Let’s go before the high wears off and I get embarrassed.”
“You won’t,” Todoroki said, letting himself be pulled along. “You’ll just pretend this never happened and act like I imagined it.”
“I will not,” Bakugo insisted, pulling him toward the bathroom with renewed purpose. “I’m gonna own this seduction. I’m gonna be legendary. I’m gonna—”
He tripped over his own pants and nearly faceplanted into the bedroom carpet.
Todoroki stopped.
From the floor, Bakugo muttered, “…I’m still dangerous.”
Todoroki smiled softly and crouched beside him, brushing his wild hair back from his forehead. “I know,” he said. “You’re terrifying.”
Bakugo rolled over dramatically. “I could fight a bear right now.”
“You can’t even fight gravity, baby.”
“Gravity is a bitch.”
Todoroki kissed him. Slow, warm, and patient.
Bakugo sighed into it, finally relaxing, finally melting. And then mumbled, “…Shower. Then sex. Then nuggets.”
Todoroki snorted. “Deal.”
*
The bathroom was already full of steam by the time Todoroki tugged Bakugo toward the shower, fingers warm around his wrist, careful not to yank too hard.
Bakugo followed with all the coordination of a shopping cart with one busted wheel, muttering seductive threats and nearly slipping on the bathmat.
“I’m gonna put my mouth on you in so many places,” Bakugo promised, trying to sound dangerous while pulling his socks off.
Todoroki nodded solemnly. “You can do that after I rinse the nugget grease off you.”
Bakugo squinted. “You don’t respect my vision.”
“I respect your hygiene.”
The water was hot and glorious, filling the space with a foggy sort of warmth that softened everything.
Bakugo stepped in first and groaned as the water hit his back. “Oh my god,” he moaned. “I think this is what heaven feels like. Except I bet heaven doesn’t have hard water buildup.”
Todoroki stepped in behind him, gently nudging Bakugo under the spray. “Head down.”
“What—why—”
But then Todoroki was massaging shampoo into his hair. Fingers pressing into his scalp like it was a love language.
Bakugo forgot how to speak.
He leaned forward with a low, dazed sigh, letting his forehead thunk gently against the shower wall.
Todoroki smiled. “Still gonna seduce me?” he murmured.
Todoroki rinsed his hair with the same quiet care, letting the water run down his back.
Bakugo hummed. “I love your hands,” he declared.
“Thanks,” Todoroki said softly, reaching for the conditioner. “You’re adorable.”
“Rude.”
Todoroki gently applied conditioner to the ends of his hair. “You want me to use your scrubby soap next, or mine?”
“…Yours. Mine smells like anger.”
Todoroki chuckled and reached for the bottle.
Bakugo let him—stood still while Todoroki lathered up the washcloth and started at his shoulders, working in small, circular motions.
Chest. Back. Arms. Every inch met with soft attention and focused affection.
By the time Todoroki knelt to wash his legs, Bakugo was slumped against the tile, sighing dreamily. “Is this what it’s like to be a princess?”
“Yes,” Todoroki said, rinsing the cloth. “You’re my beautiful, spicy princess.”
“Damn right I am.”
*
A few minutes after the shower, they were dry, clean, and wrapped in sweatpants—both shirtless, both still a little damp-haired and flushed from the heat.
Bakugo flopped onto the couch almost immediately. He dragged the blanket over them, tucked Todoroki in under his arm, and immediately reached for the takeout bag.
Todoroki let him. He was curled up beside Bakugo with his knees tucked under him, remote in hand, scrolling through their usual comfort shows.
“I’m picking something we’ve seen before,” Todoroki said. “In case you fall asleep.”
“I’m not gonna fall asleep,” Bakugo replied, mouth full of cold curly fry.
Famous last words.
Five minutes later, he was blinking hard and muttering, “Why is this fry so good? Is this the final fry? It deserves respect.”
Todoroki pressed his face into Bakugo’s shoulder to hide a smile.
They landed on some nature documentary with British narration and soothing orchestral background music.
It lasted exactly three minutes before Bakugo spoke up again.
“Wait—what’s that animal?”
“It just said. It’s a snow leopard, baby.”
“Oh. Right. Sexy name. Keep going.”
Another minute passed.
“Wait—is this the same cat?”
“No,” Todoroki said calmly, feeding him another fry. “This one’s a jaguar.”
“Jaguar,” Bakugo whispered curiously. “That's the coolest name I’ve ever heard. Should we name our kid that?”
“We don’t have a kid.”
“Yet.”
Todoroki blinked slowly. “Okay.”
They watched in relative peace for thirty seconds. “…Wait is this the same show?”
Todoroki turned his head, pressing a kiss to Bakugo’s temple. “Yes, baby.”
Bakugo leaned into it. “Fuck, you smell nice.”
“You told me that already.”
“I meant it then. I mean it more now. You’re so hot, it’s actually so fucking distracting.”
Todoroki glanced down. “Is that why you’ve been staring at my chest for like ten minutes?”
“That’s because it’s art, Sho. You’ve got art pecs.”
“Thank you?”
Todoroki laughed quietly, gently running his fingers through Bakugo’s damp hair.
Bakugo tilted his head into the touch with a soft sigh, eyes half open. “I love you,” he mumbled.
“I know,” Todoroki said, resting his chin atop Bakugo’s head. “I love you too.”
They fell into a rare moment of silence.
Then, “…Wait. Where’s my food?”
Todoroki raised a brow. “You ate it.”
Bakugo looked down at the empty container in his lap like it had personally betrayed him. “...Bullshit.”
“I can make you something else.”
Bakugo gasped. “You would cook for me?”
Todoroki kissed his cheek. “Always.”
Bakugo turned his whole body and curled into him, muttering something about loyalty and hot men and how the British narrator’s voice made him sleepy.
Todoroki just held him.
*
It had been quiet for a few minutes.
Too quiet.
Todoroki looked up from the couch, where he’d been halfway to dozing, and realized Bakugo was no longer beside him.
He waited another thirty seconds.
Still no sign of life.
Then, a faint bang. Followed by a suspicious click. And what sounded like a growl.
Todoroki got up with the calm of a man used to this, padding toward the kitchen.
And there he was.
Shirtless. Barefoot. Fuming.
Glaring at the electric kettle.
He didn’t even notice Todoroki at first. His fists were on his hips, his head tilted slightly.
The kettle was plugged in. Water inside. Nothing happening.
Todoroki cleared his throat gently.
Bakugo flinched. “I knew it,” he snapped. “You were spying.”
“I thought you fell asleep on the floor or something.”
“I was trying to make you tea, idiot.”
Todoroki blinked. “Oh.”
“I wanted to surprise you. But this piece of shit doesn’t work. I pressed the thing and everything.”
Todoroki stepped forward. Looked down.
And flipped the tiny switch that Bakugo had just missed.
The kettle light clicked on with a soft, smug glow.
Bakugo stared at it, betrayed.
Todoroki, wise in the ways of love and ego, said nothing to tease him.
Just reached out, ran a soothing hand along Bakugo’s back, and murmured, “Thank you. That was really thoughtful of you.”
“…Yeah. I’m thoughtful as fuck.”
“I’m lucky.”
“You are.”
Todoroki reached into the cabinet, pulled down their usual tea blend—Earl Grey, Bakugo’s favorite when he didn’t want to admit he liked nice things—and got to work.
Bakugo stood beside him and just watched.
When the mugs were ready, Todoroki handed one over and said, “You did great.”
Bakugo puffed his chest a little. “Damn right I did.”
*
Snack selection was a ten minute adventure that involved Bakugo opening every cupboard, dismissing every option, and then declaring that saltines were “the thinking man’s cookie.”
Whatever the fuck that means.
They returned to the couch: Bakugo with a mug of tea and an aggressively large handful of plain crackers, Todoroki with quiet patience and the last surviving granola bar from earlier.
But after just one minute of the snow leopard documentary, Bakugo whined, “I’m bored.”
Todoroki turned his head. “You just said you loved this show.”
“I loved the cat, Sho. The cat.” Bakugo poked him in the ribs. “Let’s play a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“I don’t know. Something with no rules.”
“So… improv?”
Bakugo smirked. “Strip improv.”
“No.”
“Hide and seek.”
“In a one-bedroom apartment?”
Bakugo gasped when he got his next idea.
Todoroki gave him such a look.
*
The Uno deck lay scattered across the coffee table.
Bakugo had passed out in the middle of yelling about reverse cards being bullshit.
Todoroki smiled softly.
He stood up, stretched, and began tidying the room like a man moving through ritual.
The half empty water glasses went to the sink. The kettle was unplugged. The remote returned to its rightful home.
He folded the blanket Bakugo had kicked off mid-rant and draped it neatly over the armrest.
Then he walked to the door, checked the lock with a practiced click, and stood in the quiet for a moment—watching the soft rise and fall of Bakugo’s chest in the low lamplight.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured.
Todoroki stepped forward and slipped an arm beneath Bakugo’s knees, another under his back, lifting him gently off the couch.
Bakugo stirred a little, brows furrowing, but didn’t wake. Just curled closer, instinctively, like he knew Todoroki was there.
Todoroki carried him down the hallway with steady steps, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot.
He laid Bakugo down on the mattress carefully, adjusting the pillows, tucking the blanket up to his chest.
Then he flicked off the overhead light, crawled in beside him, and pulled him close.
Bakugo blinked awake. His voice was low and dreamy. “Babe?”
“Hey,” Todoroki said softly, brushing his knuckles over Bakugo’s cheek.
Bakugo stared at him with those glazed, love-drunk eyes. “Teleport?”
“You fell asleep on the couch. I brought you in.”
Bakugo groaned, throwing an arm over Todoroki’s waist. “You’re so strong. So gentle. I’d let you carry me into any room.”
“Noted.”
Bakugo leaned in closer. “Let’s make out.”
“You were asleep thirty seconds ago.”
“I woke up for romance.”
Todoroki laughed under his breath, sliding a hand along Bakugo’s hip. “Okay. Romance.”
He leaned in and kissed him.
It started soft— a gentle brush of lips, slow inhale, exhale, warmth shared in the dark.
But Bakugo was hungry for it, chasing after Todoroki’s mouth like he couldn’t get enough, sighing into every kiss like it tasted better than air.
Todoroki kissed his way down—over his jaw, his throat, to the place just under his collarbone that always made Bakugo twitch.
Bakugo arched a little, whispering, “Shit, that feels so good. I love your mouth. I love your face.”
Todoroki smiled against his skin. “You’re really in your feelings right now.”
“I have so many feelings,” Bakugo groaned. “They’re all horny. And loving.”
Todoroki kissed lower, trailing his mouth down Bakugo’s chest, letting his hands move slow—thumbs stroking over ribs, palms smoothing along his sides.
Just touch. Just presence. Just adoration.
Bakugo melted under it, breath shaky, muttering non-stop, “You’re gonna kill me. This is how I die. Fuckin’ smothered in boyfriend love—”
Todoroki pressed a kiss right over his heart. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Bakugo whimpered, curling both arms around him. “I love you so goddamn much it’s unfair.”
Todoroki leaned up, kissed his temple. “I know,” he whispered back. “I love you too. Now shut up and let me spoil you.”
*
Bakugo was breathless beneath him.
“I’m gonna kiss every inch of you,” Todoroki whispered, mouth brushing the slope of Bakugo’s shoulder.
Bakugo blinked up at him, pupils blown, lips parted. “You gonna stop at every freckle?”
“I was thinking about it.”
“That’s excessive,” he breathed, even as he tilted his head to give Todoroki more neck to kiss.
“You’re excessive,” Todoroki murmured, smiling against his skin.
He kissed him once, just below the ear.
Then again, slower, at the hollow of his throat.
Then again, over the sharp line of his collarbone, tongue tracing bone.
Bakugo let out a shaky exhale. “I’m gonna die.”
“No you’re not,” Todoroki said, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “You’re probably gonna float.”
And he meant it.
He was kissing along his ribs, slow and loving. Kissing his hips. His sides. His thighs. His scars.
And everywhere Todoroki touched, Bakugo felt himself letting go. Softening. Unraveling in the safest hands he knew.
“Sho,” he gasped, fingers twitching against the sheets.
Todoroki looked up immediately. “Too much?” he asked softly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Bakugo met his eyes. “No. I just—” He swallowed hard. “Don’t stop touching me, okay?”
Todoroki reached up without hesitation and laced their fingers together. “Love you.”
“I know,” Bakugo whispered.
Todoroki kissed his knuckles, then moved slowly back down, resuming his slow, loving descent.
He kissed Bakugo’s stomach. The inside of his wrist. The top of his knee.
He didn’t skip anything. Not one inch. Not one mark.
Not one part that had ever been hurt, or ignored, or forced to harden.
Because tonight, Bakugo didn’t have to be strong.
He just had to be loved.
And Todoroki made sure of it.
“You’re shaking,” Todoroki murmured, lips grazing over his heart.
“‘Cause it’s a lot,” Bakugo whispered. “Feels too good with my head this foggy.”
“Want me to stop?”
“No. Just—fuck, just don’t go far.”
“I’m right here,” Todoroki said, kissing his hand again. “Always.”
Bakugo’s breath hitched. His hand tightened in Todoroki’s.
And Todoroki never once let go.
*
Bakugo woke up slow.
That was the first suspicious thing.
He was a morning person. A very loud morning person.
He usually woke up before the alarm, cursed the sun, and launched directly into breakfast and yelling.
But today? Today was not that day.
His eyes cracked open, lids heavy. The sheets were warm. The bed smelled like Todoroki. His muscles felt loose, pliant, used in the best possible way.
And he was wrapped around Todoroki.
One leg slung over his hips. One arm pinned under his back.
His face pressed into Todoroki’s chest like a pillow made of abs and devotion.
Todoroki was already awake.
Of course he was. Smug bastard.
He was brushing lazy fingers up and down Bakugo’s spine, lips curled in the smallest, smuggest smile. “…You good?” he murmured.
Bakugo groaned. “No.”
“No?”
Bakugo peeked out from between his fingers. “I said a lot of shit last night.”
“You were very honest.”
“I think I tried to propose.”
“You did,” Todoroki said serenely. “Twice. Once to me. Once to the kettle.”
Bakugo groaned again and rolled onto his back, dragging the blanket up over his face. “Fuck the kettle.”
Todoroki sat up, the sheet sliding down his bare torso.
“Put your damn shirt on,” Bakugo grumbled, covering his eyes again. “I’m compromised right now.”
“You were licking my collarbone last night.”
“I was vulnerable.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘smother me with your love and your thighs.’”
Bakugo let out an embarrassed gasp and rolled out of bed, dragging the blanket with him. “I’m making the damn tea.”
“You don’t know how.”
“I do know, you fucker.”
*
Todoroki found him in the kitchen a few minutes later—blanket draped over his shoulders, hair everywhere, staring suspiciously at the kettle again.
But this time?
It was steaming.
Two mugs sat on the counter.
Todoroki stepped closer.
Bakugo looked up at him, sleepy but proud. “I did it.”
“You did,” Todoroki said, kissing his cheek. “I’m impressed.”
Bakugo shoved one mug toward him. “It might taste like shit. I used a weird packet.”
“I’ll love it anyway.”
Bakugo snorted. “You’re such a sap.”
They drank their tea together in the morning light.
And neither of them said anything for a while.
Because love, it turns out, is quiet sometimes.
***