Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, I know a game!” Pinky squealed.

Katsuki watched as she did a little dance in her seat—some noxiously sweet concoction spilling out of her red cup and adding to the already alarming number of stains on the common room sofa.

“We can take a shot every time Deku mentions All Might!”

The nerd paled at her suggestion and Katsuki couldn’t keep in his snort, the beer in his hand sloshing dangerously in the can. 

“I-I’m not that bad!”

Halfie patted his shoulder in a disgusting display of solidarity. “I’m sorry, Midoriya.”

His annoyingly wide eyes went even wider. “What!? Are you agreeing with them?”

Icyhot looked away and took a drink.

The room erupted. 

Well, what was left of it. Most of their classmates had already retired to their rooms for the night. Tape arms was passed out on the floor with his head in Halfie’s lap, and Round Face was tucked into Pinky’s side snoring. It was only six of them left awake, finishing off the last of the sake, beer, and bright pink punch sitting on the coffee table. 

Katsuki himself wasn’t immune to the infectious laughter, brought about by Halfie’s refusal to answer and the alcohol sitting comfortably in his veins. Deku was gaping like a fish, staring at the bastard who was now hiding behind his cup and trying pitifully to stifle his own amusement.

Todoroki had never been one to drink with the rest of the group. It was a little strange to have him there, even more so that he was smiling. But it turned out that three shots of sake and half a cup of whatever toxic thing Pinky had mixed was all it took for class 3-A’s ice prince to show an expression other than the visual embodiment of ‘meh.’

“It’s—“ a hiccup, “it’s not necessarily a bad thing, Midoriya.”

Deku scrunched his brow and flicked Icyhot on the forehead. “Friendship ended with Todoroki-kun. Iida-kun is my best friend now.”

“Damn, I’m glad we did this.” Pikachu leaned back, melting further into the loveseat next to Shitty Hair. “I’ve been so stressed out with graduation coming up, not even sex is enough to relieve all of it.” 

Everyone went quiet. Deku sputtered into his drink and flushed a shade that would rival Pinky. Halfie’s eyes were round in surprise and Katsuki was sure his own face reflected a hint of shock. 

“Where’d the mood go, brotatoes? Was it s’mthin I said?”

His words were a little slurred and he took another drink, looking around the small circle. Everyone remained silent. Well, most everyone.

“I think it was the thing you said about… the sex.”

Katsuki snorted. The alcohol definitely didn’t help Halfie’s bluntness. 

“What?” Pikachu laughed. “It’s just sex, everybody has it. Me and Ei ‘v been fuckin since, what? Second year?”

Shitty hair nodded, and Pinky’s squeal was enough to almost wake the entire dorm. Katsuki winced and took another swig of his beer.

“You guys never told me you were gay!”

Sparky blinked and Shitty Hair laughed.

“What? We’re not gay—we’re just bros helping each other out.”

“Yeah, it’s only gay if you both come. If only one person does then it’s not.” Pikachu nodded sagely at his own words.

What a load of absolute horse shit. Those two are gayer than an entire fucking pride parade. 

“Well that dumbassery is my fucking cue to leave.” 

Katsuki stood up from his spot at the foot of the couch, putting his beer on the low table with a metallic thunk and grabbing his discarded hoodie. 

“Wait, Bakugou.” Icyhot downed the rest of his drink in one go and tossed the empty cup. “If you’re going to bed, will you help me get Sero back to his room?”

Katsuki didn’t even try to stifle his groan. It was exactly why he hated little parties like this. It typically ended with someone getting too drunk and passing out, and of course he was always roped into helping. He was one of the very few capable of holding his liquor, after all. At best, it took a few extra minutes to get to bed; at worst, he wound up covered in vomit.

“Fucking fine. Hurry your ass up.”

He was expecting some kind of sarcastic remark or cold retort like normal, so the resulting smile caught him slightly off guard. Only slightly. And if Katsuki swayed a little on his feet, he fully blamed the slew of empty cans littering the floor and coffee table. 

Katsuki didn’t even realize he’d been staring until the bastard’s smile morphed more into a smirk. 

“‘S the matter, Blasty? Am I gonna have to carry you, too?”

“Fuck off!” 

He lifted Tape Arms up off the floor with more force than was admittedly necessary, and the drunk fucker groaned. 

“Easy there, Bakugou, I’d like to avoid being barfed on.” 

Icyhot stumbled to his feet and gave everyone a stupid, endearing little wave before grabbing Sero’s legs. Together they made their way to the fifth floor, managing only to run him into something twice if you didn’t count the time they dropped him, or the time the elevator tried to close on him. 

They laid him down on the bed none too gently, and Halfie grabbed him a cup of water to set on the bedside table like his fucking mother or something.

“Kaminari was right.” Todoroki turned back around, still swaying slightly. “I’m glad we did this.” 

He scrunched his nose a little like some fucking type of cat, and then smiled at Katsuki in that way that had him feeling like he’d downed at least three more beers. 

“I guess... I just mean that I’m glad I joined in this time. School has been pretty stressful. Especially with graduation looming and agencies seriously scouting us.”

“Tsk. Like you’re not just gonna go running off to daddy’s agency.” Katsuki looked away in an attempt to hold onto some of his sanity. 

He wasn’t sure what it was about standing there with a tipsy Icyhot in the stillness of Sero’s dorm, but it had him feeling lighter on his feet somehow. It was like using his quirk, or more specifically the moment he stopped using it—that split second of free fall before he was sending off another explosion to keep himself airborne. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Half-n-half tilt his head. It was like he was trying to solve a complex puzzle, and it unnerved Katsuki on some fundamental level.

“True…” His voice was cautious, measured. “That doesn’t mean it’s not stressful.”

Katsuki made eye contact and then immediately broke it, heading for the door and groaning under his breath when the bastard followed him out. He wasn’t so out of touch with social cues that he couldn't see the precipice they were on. The two of them were most definitely teetering on a razor’s edge; Katsuki just wished he knew what the hell was on the other side. 

“Yeah, whatever. Night or something.”

He tried to make a quick getaway, determining it to be the most wise choice in his less than sober state, but he only made it a fraction of the way to the elevator before cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

Katsuki had gotten better over the past three years. He’d traded his reputation as an unparalleled hot head for the image of someone who would only blow your head off with good reason. And being stopped in a hallway by his drunk classmate didn’t constitute a good enough reason to explode his face in… sadly. 

So Katsuki stamped down the urge to jerk away, instead turning calmly. Still, he wasn’t so agreeable as to be nice about being stopped, and he cocked his head impatiently, waiting for whatever was so important that he wasn’t allowed to leave. 

“What about you?”

“What do you mean, what about me?”

“Are you stressed out? It seems like all of this has to be weighing on you as much as anyone.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard he made himself dizzy. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Icyhot.” This time he did jerk his hand away. “We’re not friends. I don’t know when you got it into that thick fucking skull of yours that we were, but I’m not gonna sit around and fucking chit chat with you all about my goddamn feelings or some bullshit. They make us see a therapist for that, so just fuck off and let me go to bed!”

“Hmm.” Mismatched brows came together and he nodded. “That was a strange way to say ‘ why yes, I am stressed out, Shouto’. ”

And then, as if to seal his fate, the fucker let out a self-satisfied little laugh. 

Katsuki grabbed hold of his wrist this time—the left one, the one he still occasionally hesitated to use—pressing into his space, bringing them just inches apart.

The air tended to change when you got close to a person like that. It became thicker, more charged. There was a subtle shift of body language, a flutter under Katsuki’s calloused fingertips, a near inaudible hitch of breath. Todoroki’s pupils were blown wide from the alcohol or from something else entirely, his left cheek dusted with pink. 

“Why you wanna know if I’m stressed, Icyhot?” Katsuki spoke low, barely more than a whisper. “You offering something?”

His lips formed a surprised little ‘o’ and Katsuki laughed internally. That would get the fucker to back off—

“What if I am?”

Wait, what?

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “Stop fucking around, I was being serious.”

“So was I.” 

His fingers slipped from Todoroki’s wrist and the bastard blinked at the loss of contact.

“I could—that is, I meant to say— we could be… each other’s stress relief?”

By the time he got it all out, the flush extended to his right cheek too, and Katsuki watched the way he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darting back and forth between Katsuki’s. 

“Are you…” Joking? Serious? Delusional? On crack? “Listen, Halfie, I’m not fucking gay.”

“Neither am I!” He cleared his throat. “I-I don’t think.” 

Halfie scrunched his brows again, staring down at the carpet as if it had some fascinating pattern embroidered within it. “But you heard Kaminari and Kirishima. It’s only gay if both parties orgasm.”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that. What the fuck?” 

He looked up and his face was too open and vulnerable for Katsuki’s liking. It was like he was lost, like he’d just asked Katsuki the way home and he’d been told to go fuck himself.

“Oh okay… is that a no?”

Of course it was a no. Katsuki wanted to laugh, he wanted to throw the ridiculousness back in Halfie’s face and stumble off to bed. And maybe in the morning he could laugh about it some more.

So why couldn’t he bring himself to do so? Was it really a no? What if it did help with the stress? What if it took even the barest hint of the edge off? What if it let him sleep peacefully for the first time in months?

“I—“ he breathed in deeply, letting it out through his nose. “I didn’t say that, you fucker. It’s just that they’re both dumbasses. You know that.”

He nodded solemnly. “I understand. So you do think fucking me would make us gay.”

“Jesus fucking— don’t say it out in the open like that!”

Katsuki grabbed him and stormed back the opposite direction, throwing open Halfie’s door and shoving him inside. 

“Goddamit, I have to be drunk to even be considering this.” He rubbed his hands over his face and slid down the door, his knees pushed up close to his body. 

He could hear a plop that told him Icyhot had sat down on his futon. 

“If you’re too inebriated to consent, Bakugou—“

“What?” He dragged his hands away from his face. “You’re drunker than I am!”

“Oh. Um,” Icyhot looked around at his room as if waiting for something. Katsuki sat still, letting the silence envelope them and trying to wrap his brain around what the fuck was happening. 

“I don’t feel too inebriated to consent. But Aizawa sensei always says that consent is—“

“No, don’t—“ Katsuki groaned and rested his forehead on his knees. “If we’re gonna do this, don’t be bringing up our fucking teacher.” 

“Right.”

The silence stretched on, exceedingly awkward but still somehow charged. Icyhot finally broke it, a rustling of fabric that caught Katsuki’s attention.

With shaking hands, Todoroki reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and leaving it in a discarded pile next to him. His pale chest was rippled with smooth muscle and dusted with the occasional scar. It did very little to detract from his appeal. If anything it made him look less pretty and more fuckable , and Katsuki swore under his breath. 

“I don’t really know how to do this, Bakugou. I’ve never—“

“And you think I have!?”

He flushed again, shaking his head. This time the pink bloomed across his chest too, and Katsuki blinked dumbly from his spot on the floor. 

His pulse had sped up. Halfie was leaning back on his elbows, shirt forgotten in that wrinkled pile. There was a long stripe across his chest that Katsuki remembered. They’d been together for that villain attack. 

The fucker had lashed out with some sort of sharp tendril and Todoroki had taken the brunt of the impact, hissing and jumping back into the fray like it was little more than a paper cut. And what was a paper cut to a force of nature? 

But right now that enigma was laid out before him, offering himself up like a human stress ball if stress balls were made for sticking your dick into. To what end though? 

Well, sex, obviously. 

But Katsuki had never really envisioned this part of his life—of losing his virginity in some guy’s dorm room when he wasn’t even gay. Sure he’d watched porn, and jacked off when he needed to, but sex was different. He didn’t even know how it was supposed to work between two guys and he spent no short amount of time berating himself for not paying attention to Midnight’s sex ed talk.

“So… who the fuck’s gonna… you know?”

Todoroki wiped a palm on his jeans, looking—not for the first time that night—like a man completely out of his element. “Umm, you can… stick it inside of me if you want. I don’t mind. Midnight sensei said if you prepare enough it shouldn’t hurt.”

“That…” Katsuki blinked a few times, processing the words that had just left Todoroki fucking Shouto’s mouth. “I meant, who gets to blow their load!?”

“Oh.” 

His face flushed deeply and he looked away to hide his embarrassment, and Katsuki cursed whatever fates had decided to make this dense, annoying, unbearable mess so fucking cute.

“You seem stressed. If you’d like—“

“You just said you were stressed too! How is that fucking fair?”

Halfie hummed. “We could… flip a coin?”

“Nobody has loose change lying around, idiot. Let’s just play rock, paper, scissors or something.”

Mismatched eyes lit up a little and he leaned forward as Katsuki crawled ungracefully toward the futon. 

“That’s smart.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know. Who do you think I am?”

Icyhot smiled faintly and it was like the slightest bit of tension and awkwardness melted away, leaving them what they were—two rivals, acquaintances, classmates, whatever you wanted to call them, having a bit of friendly competition in the form of the childhood game.

Katsuki lifted his fist, watching Todoroki do the same. 

“On three.”

One.

Two.

Three.

They played their hands. Halfie picked scissors. Katsuki picked rock.

It took a few beats for the two of them to realize what it meant, but when they did, Todoroki nodded resolutely and started looking around the room. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Oh.” He stood up, still shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips. “I don’t have any lube. I’m looking for something we can use.”

“Hah?” Katsuki tilted his head, trying to work out what the fuck he was talking about.

“Midnight sensei said not to use lotion or soap. There are certain things that people try to use but shouldn’t. She said we can substitute certain oils, but I don’t—“

His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers, rushing to the small bathroom attached to his room, and Katsuki stayed on the floor, calling after him.

“How the fuck do you remember all of this shit?”

When he emerged from the bathroom, he was holding a cylindrical orange bottle. “I paid attention. Midnight sensei said it was important and could come in handy later.”

“Yeah, and she also tried to fit her leg inside of a condom and the thing snapped during her demonstration.”

“Oh shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes again. “Well since you can’t get pregnant and neither one of us is sleeping around, Halfie, I’m gonna say we’re fine.” He gestured toward the bottle. “The fuck’s that?”

“Oh!” He looked down like he’d forgotten he was holding it and started reading the label, eyes darting back and forth a moment. Eventually, he must have found what he was looking for, because he looked up with a pleased little hum. 

“Perfect! It doesn’t say external use only.” 

He held the bottle much too close to Katsuki’s face for him to actually read, and he snatched it away with the most venomous look he could muster. 

Moroccan Argan Oil. 

“Why do you have this?”

Todoroki plopped back down on the futon. “It’s for my hair.”

As if reminded of its presence, he tucked a lock of red behind his ear, and Katsuki resisted the urge to swallow. His hair did look soft, one could almost say silky. He’d been growing it out since second year, probably as some act of rebellion against Endeavor, but it really did suit him.

It was currently the perfect length to hold onto. Katsuki wondered what it would feel like sliding between his fingers, how it would hold up to being yanked and tugged on. He could vividly imagine wrapping it around his fist and shoving Halfie down into the—

“Bakugou? Are you okay?”

“M fine. We gonna do this, or what?” He snapped acerbically. 

Todoroki shakily nodded, taking the bottle back. He set it down before unbuttoning his jeans, sliding them down his legs and throwing them on top of his shirt. His boxers were fitted and clung to him like a second skin, and Katsuki could see the outline of his swollen cock, straining against the stretchy fabric and leaving a wet patch where the head was pressed. 

The sight had his own cock twitching with interest and he watched as Halfie flushed deeply and slid them off too, letting his arousal bob freely and refusing to make eye contact. 

He poured the oil onto his hand, reaching down between his legs. He let them fall apart and brought his fingers to his puckered opening and Katsuki swore he could feel the moment his soul left his body—it just so happened to coincide with the first finger pressing in and the breathy little gasp that left Todoroki’s parted lips. 

The oil glistened wetly, accentuating the perfect pinkness of his tight hole and flushed length, and Katsuki watched with rapt attention as he sunk that single finger in past the second knuckle. 

Todoroki ‘Mr.-Threw-The-Match’ Shouto was currently laying on his futon in front of him, fingering himself open so that Katsuki could stick his cock inside of him. The absurdity of it hit him, and he had to bite down a laugh. Laughing might cause Halfie to stop and then Katsuki would be left sitting with the most uncomfortable and confusing boner of his life. 

Todoroki added a second finger and bit his lip. His eyes were clenched shut tightly and he let out another little noise that had Katsuki’s dick twitching involuntarily. 

“I-I’m ready, Bakguou.”

“I don’t know Halfie—“

“Shouto, call me Shouto, please...” There was something pleading and verging on frantic in his voice and Katsuki nodded without even thinking to argue.

“Shouto, I don’t know if that’s enough. Just, um, keep going; add another finger.”

Katsuki reached behind himself and tugged his shirt off before stuffing his hand down his pants, roughly palming his own cock to the visual of Shouto’s hole stretched wide around three fingers. 

It wasn’t nearly enough. Katsuki tugged his pants down around his knees and fisted his cock and Shouto gasped. He thought that maybe he’d stretched himself too quickly, but then Katsuki was looking up and mismatched eyes were trained on his cock and he knew what the gasp had been for.

“What pretty boy? Think it’s too thick for ya?”

Shouto pulled his fingers out and shook his head. He was looking at Katsuki’s cock like he wanted nothing more than to drag his tongue across the silky tip and fuck if that wasn’t just then most stunning visual. 

“What have we learned from training, Katsuki?” His given name rolled off of Shouto’s tongue like sticky caramel, and Katsuki pulsed in his own hand. “You know that I can take anything you throw at me.” 

With that, Shouto turned over on his knees, bracing himself on his elbows with his ass raised in the air, and Katsuki didn’t even try to hold in the slew of curses. 

“Mary mother of a fucking slut—“

His hole still seemed so tiny, but there was a pliant look to it now and a slick coating that promised entrance. 

He came up onto his knees and grabbed the bottle, pouring a generous amount of oil onto his cock and slicking himself before lining up. Even the press of his head to Shouto’s opening was more intense than anything he was capable of emulating himself. 

Katsuki bore down against the resistance, watching with rapt attention the muscles give way, the tip sliding in slowly and then all at once, his cock head sucked into the overwhelmingly tight heat of Shouto’s body. 

He let out a pitiful whine and jerked back against Katsuki, and the movement sent another inch or so of his cock sliding in. Katsuki swore again and grabbed Shouto’s hips with brushing force, holding him still. 

Much more stimulation and he was going to come on the spot. It wasn’t like that wasn’t the goal, but he refused to be known as the guy who prematurely came while losing his virginity. 

Shouto let out a shaky breath through his nose and Katsuki gathered his bearings—sliding in another inch and then another, further and further until his pelvis met the soft cushion of Shouto’s ass. He groaned long and low, draping himself over his smooth back and resting his forehead between his shoulder blades.

Katsuki was just about to move out when Shouto began breathing heavily, almost as if panicked. 

“No! Don’t move!”

“Fuck, does it hurt?” He resisted the urge to pull out immediately. Shouto hadn’t said anything about pain as he was sliding in, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any.

“No…” it was strangled and barely intelligible, grit out through clenched teeth. “Just… give me a… second.”

Shouto was gripping at the sheets with white knuckles, his eyes clamped shut. Katsuki felt mildly guilty that Shouto could be suffering and here he was, feeling like he was going to blow his load at any second.

Even the slightest movement was sure to tip him over the edge, and Shouto’s slutty body—however it must be feeling—was holding him like a vise. 

“Oh-okay. You can move now.” His breathing had evened out, but Katsuki didn’t know if he trusted it.

“Are you sure Halfie?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Please move...”

“I don’t want to hurt—“

“I said you can fuck me!”

As obediently as if Mind Fuck had commanded it, Katsuki pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained inside and then slammed back in. 

He was thankful that Tape Arms was drunkenly passed out next door, because the noise that left Shouto’s mouth could only be described as a wail. He arched up off of the bed and clawed at the sheets, and Katsuki repeated the motion, chasing that overwhelming friction and euphoric tightness of Shouto’s body. 

He quickly found a brutal, albeit steady rhythm, trying to think of anything to keep himself from coming. It would have worked too—the image of Four Eyes telling him to get his feet off of his desk was almost a perfect choice. Except nothing could have counteracted the absolute filth that Shouto was chanting into the sheets. 

“Fuck! Fuck, Kat… it feels so good, holy shit—I-I didn’t know… nobody says it feels like this, fuck…” his voice was high and needy and a form of sex in its own right. “Why haven’t we-we always been doing this? Please, harder, I need—“

Katsuki’s head was spinning and his vision was starting to blur. That painful itch deep in his core was building, getting more and more intense with each trust and every sinful plea. 

“I-I’m gonna—“

“Yes! Fuck do it… in—inside! Holyfuckjustlikethatfillme —” 

That was all it took for Katsuki to go hurtling over the edge with the force of his quirk. The coil that had been wound so tightly snapped and he unloaded himself inside of Shouto with a near shout. His cock pulsed and pumped him full just like he wanted.

Of course Shouto groaned and writhed through it, milking him—his own cock still fully hard and leaking on the bedding between his legs. Katsuki was sure he’d never come so hard or so much in his life. The aftershocks ripped through him, each pulse still releasing cum from his spent cock.

When he finally pulled out, he watched his sated arousal slide from where they were joined. Shouto’s hole stayed open when he was gone, and a trickle of white flooded out after him, causing Katsuki to sway on his knees. 

“That was—“ 

Katsuki leaned back on his heels, steadying himself and catching his breath. Shouto had collapsed into the futon and rolled onto his back, his cock still flushed and dripping onto his stomach. 

“Yeah.”

It was a little breathless and hoarse and dazed, and Katsuki’s mouth ticked up into a smirk.

“That good, pretty boy?”

“Don’t go getting a bigger ego.”

Katsuki breathed out a snort and heaved himself up off the floor, grabbing his clothes and tugging them back on. Halfie watched him from his spot on the futon—mismatched eyes following every movement, the room having plunged into a silence that was just shy of comfortable.

He wondered if he should say anything, even as he reached the door and Shouto made no move to stop him. Was this a recurring thing? Should they establish rules? Did he even want it to happen again?

Katsuki turned back around, his hand on the doorknob. There was something on Shouto’s face, and even through the haze of lust and exhaustion Katsuki could see his answer before he even asked. 

Of course it was going to happen again.

Katsuki opened the door and snuck back to his room without a word, collapsing into bed and finally allowing himself the disbelieving laugh he’d been keeping in. 

He’d just had sex—losing his virginity to the school’s resident pretty boy—which apparently didn’t automatically make him gay. 

Shutting his eyes, he settled further into the mattress, letting the way Shouto looked and felt and sounded underneath him occupy his mind as he drifted off.

And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki slept soundly.

Shouto stared at the ceiling long enough for his breathing to even out. 

He didn’t know how long it had been since Katsuki left, but his cock was still painfully hard and he could feel the wetness between his legs, dripping out from his stretched hole and coating his thighs.

His rim clamped down around nothing and he groaned, biting his lip and waiting for the intense heat of his arousal to subside. 

Shouto wasn’t sure at what point it was supposed to go away. His classmates had neglected to mention that little fact. And maybe it would be easier if cold showers actually worked on him, or if he could quiet his mind, but the only thing he could think about was the way Katsuki had felt inside of him.

Shouto had no idea that something could feel so good—could make him feel so complete. There was something so inherently sinful about the whole thing, but when Katsuki bottomed out and his cock—fuck, his cock— settled snugly in Shouto’s stomach it was like coming home. 

Except it wasn’t the home that he had grown up in, a vessel of turbulence and trauma that still clung to him like cheap perfume. It was more like what people said sometimes, about home being a person and not a place. But in this case it was a feeling—fullness with every slam of powerful hips.

That wasn’t to say it hadn’t been painful at first, Shouto hadn’t done nearly enough to prepare himself for that intense stretch. But by the time the burning melted away, he was telling Katsuki not to move for a different reason, because it hadn’t been Shouto’s turn to come.

Goddamit, he wished it had though. 

It was so tempting just to let go, to clamp down around Katsuki’s length and chase their releases in tandem. At some point Shouto had started to beg, because any longer and he would have been painting his sheets with cum and then that would make him gay. 

Shouto’s ass throbbed again and he let out a whine, shifting his hips on the bed and willing his cock to go down. 

He was no stranger to masturbation, but the whole arrangement was only for one person to orgasm. Katsuki was gone now. So did that make it okay? 

Why hadn’t they explained more, dammit!? 

Shouto leaned over and reached for his phone, more cum trailing out and sliding down his balls. His cock was now pressed to his sheets and he resisted the urge to buck his hips, unlocking his phone and typing out a quick message.

Today 00:46

How does the person who doesn’t get to come take care of their problem?

You know.

Hypothetically.

Shouto waited a few minutes in an uncomfortable state of horniness before his phone buzzed and he saw the text from Kirishima.

Today 00:53

Oh hey bro! The other guy’s totally allowed to cum as long as he waits till his bro is gone!
😁👌😜🥵💪💦

…

He was still typing but Shouto wasted no time. He threw his phone back down, snaking his hand between his body and futon to fist his aching cock. He bucked into his hand, biting his lip harder to keep from making noise.

The stimulation felt all at once too much and not enough. He could see lights floating in his vision and his cock leaked heavily onto the bed, but Shouto still needed more. 

He reached around with the other hand and shoved two fingers inside of himself. He could feel Katsuki’s come coating his insides and he moaned into his pillow, fucking the fingers in and out of himself. 

It still wasn’t enough, goddammit! It didn’t at all emulate Katsuki’s thickness—didn’t fill him up the same way. 

A flash of orange caught his attention and Shouto grabbed the bottle of oil with slick fingers, turning it around and shoving it inside of himself with no small amount of effort. 

He kept his grip as firm as he could and began slamming it inside, fucking into his used hole the way Katsuki had done. Shouto was sobbing and drooling, chanting out a string of fuck and yes and Katsuki. 

He plowed into his overstimulated channel with enough force to almost lose his grip, finally hitting that spot that made him choke out Katsuki’s name once again and paint the sheets with his own cum.

Shouto pulled the bottle out with a gasp, rolling onto his back and groaning at how sticky and gross he felt. He would definitely have to change his sheets and take a shower, but it had been more than worth it.

Shouto couldn’t remember masturbating ever feeling so good. That had been the single most earth shattering orgasm of his life and it had been all because of Katsuki. He could only imagine what it would feel like to come around his cock. 

Maybe next time he would win rock, paper, scissors and he would get to find out. 

Shouto grabbed his phone again to plug it in, pausing when he saw another message. Kirishima had been typing earlier. He wiped his hand on the sheet and set his thumb on the scanner, watching their conversation pop back onto the screen.

Today 00:54

Just make sure you don’t think about your bro when you do cum. That would be super gay!

🤭😬😖💪👅

Shouto immediately felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath him—the last vestiges of his orgasm stripped away and replaced by one single, earth shattering realization.

Shouto had thought about Katsuki fucking into him, hands on his waist, hips stuttering as he filled him, the smooth glide of their bodies, the way he had wanted to come so badly around Katsuki’s cock…

“Fuck.” 

Shouto’s voice filled the room, taking up the space with resounding confirmation. 

“I might be gay.” 

Chapter Text

“FUCK!” 

Shouto slammed the locker shut and resisted the urge to connect his already bruised knuckles with the painted metal surface. 

The sidekicks of his father’s agency scattered out of the locker room like mice, and Shouto bit out a bitter laugh, tearing off his grime covered cuffs and kicking off his boots. 

His costume was sticky and smelled of copper, and he peeled it off like a film once he was standing barefoot in the showers. 

Shouto jerked the faucet completely to the left, the initially icy water drenching his hair and quickly heating to well past scalding. 

Shouto didn’t care. Normally he would take a cool shower, let himself relax after an uneventful patrol, but this was different. He needed to feel the boiling water etch away at the dirt and layer of soot. He grabbed a bottle of soap and pumped it into his hand, scrubbing away until his skin was pink and raw.

The sound of footsteps echoed off of the tiled walls and Shouto hung his head, letting the water rain over his body and swirl around the drain in a pinkish brown vortex.

“Shouto.”

Shouto ignored his father, trying to clean the blood from under his nails.

“Shouto, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” Shouto spat the words with venom, keeping his back to Endeavor. “I didn’t see the other villain, and by the time I did…” he looked back down at his hands. “I couldn’t save her.”

“You did save her though, Shouto. She’s going to live. I just received the call.”

Shouto tried not to sway on his feet. His stomach had been twisted into knots since the woman’s limp body had been prised out of his hands and loaded into the ambulance. 

“She’s never going to walk again.” He stayed turned, hoping to wash more of his guilt down the drain. “I didn’t save shit.”

“There’s more to life than walking. We can’t always save everything.” His father’s voice was soft and sympathetic and Shouto hated it with every fiber of his being. He spun around, his long hair plastered to his forehead and sticking to his shoulders. 

“Can’t we? You used to spout bullshit about being the number one hero and parallel processing—about pushing past my limits. What are we if we can’t save those who need it? What good do heroes do then?”

“Shouto…” he opened his mouth and then closed it, rubbing his jaw. “Finish your shower. We’ll discuss this over dinner.”

Shouto made to protest but his father shook his head, walking out of the room and leaving him to his thoughts. He cursed and went back to his too hot shower, trying not to think of the woman now lying in a hospital bed. 

He was barely three weeks away from graduation, from being a fully licensed hero, but never had he felt less deserving of it.

He shut the water off with more force than was necessary and wrung the excess water from his hair. Haphazardly slinging a towel around his hips, Shouto stepped over his ruined costume, making his way back into the empty locker room. 

It was early in the evening and normally he would be itching to get back to his dorm, but his current displeasure with himself made Shouto hesitant to leave the quiet of the room. 

He didn’t think he could deal with Midoriya’s questions or Yaoyurozu’s concerned looks. He didn't even want to know what Katsuki—

Katsuki. 

Shouto opened his locker and pulled out a bottle of Moroccan Argan Oil, staring at it blankly. 

It had been close to a month since their game of rock, paper, scissors, and Shouto’s subsequent revelation. They hadn’t talked about it the next day, or the day after, or any day since, really.

They had gone back to acting like nothing had ever occurred, and Shouto was left wondering where in the ever loving fuck that left them. 

He couldn’t really blame Katsuki, because to him it had probably been a one-off, drunken experiment that he never planned on repeating—it wasn’t his fault that Shouto had been in a constant state of gay panic since realizing that holy fucking shit, he liked cock.

Well , cock and the dick it was attached to. 

So Shouto definitely couldn't be the one to bring it up, or suggest that it happen again, lest he appear too eager or—god forbid—too gay. 

He popped open the cap and poured a small amount into his hands, rubbing them together and working it into his damp hair. It had the thick aroma of orange blossoms and zest, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the scent as it combined with the rosemary and mint of his shampoo.

He pushed all thoughts of the villain attack out of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the memories of Katsuki moving behind him, cock sliding inside of him in a warm glide of intense pleasure. 

Shouto heated his left hand and continued running it through his hair, letting the moisture evaporate off slowly as he worked out the tangles.

He kept his eyes tightly closed, remembering the way it had felt to clean himself out—to stretch himself open in the shower after, letting Katsuki’s cum wash down the drain like the hazy remnants of the alcohol in his veins.

Shouto entertained the idea of having talked the next day, of having the balls to confess his feelings. Because in his personal little fantasy, Katsuki returned them in kind. And maybe he would be just as eager for it as Shouto had been since that night. 

Maybe Shouto wouldn’t have had to stealthily order a dildo with his father’s credit card just to recreate a poor imitation of the life-changing euphoria that sex with Katsuki had been.

His cock twitched under the towel and he snapped his eyes open, face flushing at the realization of where he was. Shouto let himself burst into flames momentarily to burn off the rest of the water, and he took a perverse sense of satisfaction as the white square of terrycloth was reduced to a ring of ash around his feet—his previous anger and general annoyance trickling back in like a hairline fracture at the base of a dam.

True to his word, Endeavor was waiting for Shouto in the lobby, leading him to his personal car and instructing the driver to take them to a restaurant instead of back to the dorms. 

Shouto made sure to emit his displeasure in the slump of his shoulders and thin line of his mouth along with a well timed series of heavy sighs. 

A wide-eyed woman led them to a private table away from the main dining portion of the upscale establishment, and they didn’t have to wait long to be served—including a gifted bottle of their finest sake on the house for Endeavor’s unparalleled service as a beacon of hope and goodness. 

Shouto was just petulant enough to physically gag, earning him a glare from his father and a concerned look from the server. 

“I know you’re in a mood, Shouto, but you could have at least waited until the poor woman had walked away.”

Shouto rolled his eyes, glancing at the bottle of sake as his father poured himself a shot.

“So,” he downed the hot rice wine in a single gulp like it would give him courage and set the cup down. “How is school going? Graduation is coming up.” 

His voice was stilted and forced, and Shouto grabbed the bottle of sake, taking a swig directly from it and daring his father to say anything. 

“It’s wonderful.” He deadpanned.

Endeavor was apparently a sucker for pain and determined to make ridiculous small talk, because he squared his shoulders and prised the bottle from Shouto’s fingers.

“And what about your friends?” He poured another shot. “Are their internships going well?”

Shouto shrugged and leaned back, eyeing his father distastefully and pilfering the bottle again. The server came by with their dinner, noticing Shouto with the bottle and quickly schooling her look of shock and disapproval. No one was dumb enough to scold the number one hero for letting his eighteen year old son drink at dinner. 

She shuffled away and Endeavor eyed his dinner but made no move to begin eating. Shouto on the other hand, stuffed the largest bite of soba into his mouth he was capable of, slurping loudly and internally laughing at his father’s face. 

“A-and do you have a girlfriend? I remember Natsuo started dating around—“

“I’m gay.” His mouth was still full, but the words were intelligible, nonetheless. 

Endeavor snapped his mouth shut and Shouto finished the bite. 

There, that’ll get him to shut the hell up. 

“I see…” he looked mildly uncomfortable for a beat before pouring himself another shot. “A boyfriend perhaps?”

“I—excuse me?”

His father shifted in his seat. “I’m asking if you have a boyfriend, Shouto.”

“Yes, I got that. I’m just shocked that you’re not lecturing me about finding a nice woman with a good quirk to have children with. Let me guess, you’re figuring out the right way to word it and I’ll get to listen over mochi?”

Endeavor shook his head and downed another shot. “I wasn’t sure if you even wanted children. You’re good with them to be sure, but you’re still a bit young to be thinking about that.”

Shouto paused and grabbed the bottle, ignoring his soba in favor of taking another gulp. 

“Well I’m gay so it doesn’t matter.”

“There’s always adoption.”

Shouto took an even bigger drink. 

“Son, maybe you should slow down with—“

“No. Hold up.” Shouto tilted his head and watched his father for a moment. “What about my precious genes?”

“A surrogate then. If that’s what you want.”

Shouto slammed the bottle down on the table, the loud clanging and his shaking fingers acting as a sign that the conversation was over. 

They spent the rest of dinner and the majority of the drive back to the dorms in complete silence. Shouto’s stomach was churning menacingly from the alcohol or from the caustic quality of his own feelings.

He should be happy. He should feel overwhelmingly grateful that the woman from earlier was alive, that his father hadn’t disowned him for coming out in such an indelicate fashion. He should be thanking whatever gods he didn’t believe in that his path had changed so much from when he was just a child lying in a puddle of his own sick at Endeavor’s feet. 

So why was it that all he felt was disappointment and confusion and a white hot rage that threatened the raze the earth at his feet? 

He hadn’t even realized they had pulled up to his dorm until the blinding lights of the front porch flooded his vision and Endeavor opened the car door to fetch Shouto’s suitcase like he wasn’t fully capable of doing it himself. 

“I—“ he handed it over once Shouto stumbled out of the car, looking down with that goddamn pity in his eyes. “I’m trying to be better, Shouto. I’ve been trying for over two years. I want to be a father to you and your siblings. I want to make an effort.” 

Shouto huffed out a laugh that was low and bitter, turning toward the front door and tossing his response over his shoulder like a dirty tissue. 

“I needed a father when I was five. I don’t need one now.”

“Goddammit Shitty hair! This is the fucking unit circle all over again, I swear to shit—low d high, minus high d low, over low squared! It’s not that fucking hard!”

“Okay, but what’s d high again?”

Katsuki was two seconds away from screaming it’s the motherfucking derivative of the numerator and blasting Shitty Hair in the face, but movement near the front doors caught his eye. 

“Katsuki!”

He turned his head to see Todoroki motherfucking Shouto storming toward him in a sloppy zig zag with a raised fist using his given fucking name. 

The congregated students all turned to witness the scene, some of them readying themselves for a fight—whether it be to film (in Pikachu’s case) or drag them apart (in Deku’s).

Katsuki himself didn’t really believe Todoroki so stupid as to actually pick a fight with him, so it didn’t come as as big of a shock when the bastard stopped in front of him with his fist still raised. 

“On three.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but lifted a fist all the same, counting down with three rhythmic shakes.

One.

Two.

Three.

They both played scissors.

Todoroki looked down at their hands in obvious offense, his tone blunt and decisive. “Again.”

The onlookers sat in various states of bewildered confusion and Katsuki scoffed. 

Obviously the fucker isn’t going to pick scissors ag—

Katsuki played paper, Todoroki picked scissors.

Katsuki blinked at their hands from his spot at the table and glanced up in time to see Todoroki’s infuriating little smirk. And before Katsuki could say anything he turned around, storming with silent purpose toward the elevators. 

“What the hell just happ—wait, Bakubro!”

Katsuki ignored Shitty Hair in favor of chasing after the infuriating asshole, rushing to make it into the slowly closing elevator. He slid inside just in time, turning around and leaning against the back wall as they ascended, but not before smashing the button for the fourth floor.

Todoroki continued to stare straight ahead at the doors, his jaw set and lips drawn together. Katsuki could pick up on the faint, sharp scent of sake and noted how strange it was for the halfie bastard to have shown up after his internship drunk. 

Must have been a rough day. 

The elevator dinged and opened on Katsuki’s floor and he tried grabbing Todoroki by the wrist to pull him out, but the asshole stayed plastered to the back wall and Katsuki slammed his fist on the emergency button to keep the elevator still. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Todoroki tilted his head and squared his shoulders like he would before a spar. There was a slight tremor that got worse the further down his arms Katsuki looked and his pulse was fluttering in his neck. 

It was like something sat barely contained just beneath his skin—a sort of raw energy that made the steel box seem too small. 

“You drunk Icyhot?”

“Shouto.”

“Tsk. You drunk, Shouto?”

“Not too drunk to consent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Katsuki stepped in close, ignoring the way his own breathing quickened and placing his palms on either side of Shouto’s head. It may not have been the wisest move, what with Shouto looking closer to a caged animal than a fuck buddy, but Katsuki had always had a good arm when it came to throwing caution to the wind.

“What I’m asking is why you stormed up to me, demanding to be wrecked as soon as you got back like you haven’t been pretending that nothing happened between us for a fucking month.” 

Shouto leaned forward like he wasn’t afraid of the contact, like he knew exactly how many nights Katsuki had spent lying awake, wishing he had the balls to initiate whatever the hell this was again. 

“I won Rock, Paper, Scissors, Kat. Who said I’m the one who’s getting wrecked?”

Katsuki forced himself not to kiss the look off of the bastard’s smug face, because that might be gay, and instead grabbed him by the wrist again. 

This time, Shouto didn’t protest to being dragged to his room, and Katsuki threw him down on his bed as soon as they were inside. 

Shouto wasted little time stripping himself, and Katsuki divested himself of his clothing too, grabbing the already half used bottle of lube from his dresser that he’d secretly bought after their last encounter.

Katsuki grunted when Shouto grabbed him and pulled him down onto the bed, flipping them and pinning him to the mattress. 

“Gimme the lube, Blasty—I’ll make it quick.” Hands no longer shaking, Shouto leaned up and slicked his fingers, bringing them back to stretch himself open. 

Katsuki wanted nothing more than to let him, to witness Shouto fingering himself wide and to experience the pretty bastard coming around his cock, but this whole goddamned arrangement was about fairness, wasn’t it? And right now it wasn’t difficult to tell that there was something Shouto needed. 

“Wait!”

Mismatched eyes blinked open and he released his lip from porcelain teeth. “I’m a little busy here, Kat. What?” 

“I just— fuck, we should...” Katsuki tried not to let his face go red and he stamped down his embarrassment. “Stretch me instead, you asshole.”

His brows came together and he blinked down at Katsuki with a confused expression. 

“Don’t give me that. You’re obviously pent up or some shit.”

“What are you saying?” Shouto’s shoulders dropped and Katsuki would have said he looked disappointed if he were well enough versed in the subtleties of Shouto’s facial expressions.  

‘I’m saying you can fuck me, you dense son of a b—“

Katsuki yelped at the abrupt feeling of his legs being spread apart and the cool, wet fingers circling his entrance. 

Shouto draped himself over him, carding one hand through blond spikes and bringing their faces so close that he only needed to whisper to be heard. 

“Care to finish that thought, Katsuki?”

He tugged at Katsuki’s hair sharply, eliciting a startled gasp that devolved into the most embarrassing moan of his life—not that Katsuki was in the business of moaning. 

Katsuki unclenched his teeth and forced words out of his mouth, trying to distract from his shame. 

“You dense son of a barely tolerable sack of flaming garbage!” He spat. 

Shouto’s entire body froze as if he were using his quirk, his eyes wide and searching. 

“You-you… weren’t talking about… my mother.”

“What?”

His face went a soft shade of pink. “You didn’t say son of a bitch.”

“Well, yeah…” Katsuki shifted under the weight of his gaze, feeling—for the first time that evening—the awkwardness of their situation. “Your dad’s a fuck-face. I don’t really know shit about your mom; at least not enough to imply that your general fuck-facery comes from her side of the family.”

Shouto breathed out a laugh that was more of an exhale, his breath ghosting over Katsuki’s face. His grip had softened in Katsuki’s hair, but the cool fingers of his other hand had yet to return to his unstretched opening.

“It doesn’t. I get that from him.” He grimaced as he said it and glanced away, tension returning in the hard set line of his shoulders. 

“So what do you need from me, asshole?”

His lips thinned.

“Fine. What do you need from me, Shouto?”

He blinked in that same lost way, like he’d been asking the same question since entering the dorms and storming up to Katsuki.

“I don’t—” Shouto shook his head, trying very hard to find the right words. “...it was a rough patrol.”

“What happened?”

Shouto flinched—his muscles tensing all at once and it caused him to tug at Katsuki’s hair painfully.

“Jesus, fucking shit! Okay, don’t talk about it, goddamn!” 

Shouto released him as if he’d been the one hurt and sat up on his heels at the end of the bed. His cock had softened considerably, and it hung heavily between his muscled thighs, the fingers on his right hand still glistening with lube. Shouto sat frozen in contemplation, looking like he could decide to run at any second.

Katsuki breathed out a curse that probably should have been more subtle, but he’d been trying to work out a way to initiate this for the past month, and now that they were here, Shouto was on the verge of nope-ing the fuck out.

And Katsuki wasn’t dumb. All it had taken was a sober mental recap of that night’s activities for him to understand that there was something more between them than a stupid arrangment, and that him not giving Shouto an orgasm had nothing to do with Katsuki’s sexuality.

But Shouto was that dumb, and probably very much in denial about the entire situation. And that was if he was even gay at all. Which was the kicker—because how could Katsuki have even hoped to approach him without giving away that fuck, he might actually be gay for the halfie bastard?

Even now he was struck with that question, knowing in his mind that one wrong move could have Shouto drunkenly yeeting himself out of the balcony window, naked as the day he was born. 

It had to be approached delicately. The only problem was that delicacy was about as far from Katsuki’s forte as the Spanish opera. But if he could give Shouto an avenue—some way to relieve his stress without talking about it— or them— then he was fully confident things could go his way for the time being. 

At least maybe long enough to figure out if Shouto was interested in anything past getting his dick wet. 

“Just—whatever you need to do, do it. It’s only gay if one of us comes, right?”

Shouto hesitated a moment before gently lowering himself back down, slotting between Katsuki’s thighs and bringing his clean hand up to cup Katsuki’s jaw. 

“Is it gay if I kiss you?”

Katsuki felt his face heat and Shouto’s eyes stayed wide, darting back and forth in an obvious display of nervousness—his cheeks dusted with that pretty, virginal flush. 

Katsuki was sure his own heartbeat was fully audible, but he forced a modicum of composure, shaking his head in a quick movement that he hoped would be interpreted as consent. 

Shouto leaned in hesitantly, eyes still searching for any flicker of protest, but Katsuki gave him none, and with the faintest brush of their lips, the mood shifted from inexperienced vacillation to an intense hunger bordering on desperation.

It was like the closing of a circuit—raw electricity flooding Katsuki’s mind and causing him to pull Shouto down harder. Their mouths slid together in a frantic collision of heat and want, and Katsuki let his lips part, inviting Shouto’s tongue to dip inside. 

Katsuki felt the renewed touch of those slick fingers on him—the heady feeling as the first pressed in slowly. He wrapped his arms around Shouto’s shoulders and took it along with the deepening kiss, digging his nails into soft flesh like a brand. 

It felt foreign and mildly uncomfortable, but mismatched eyes bore into him and the all consuming heat Katsuki found there had him spreading his legs winder and melting into the mattress. 

They were panting into the same space, Shouto taking his time stretching Katsuki on one finger. He slid in fully and curled it up and Katsuki moaned into his mouth, long and low, feeling the beginning of pleasure coil low in his stomach.

“F-fuck, that’s…”

There was a laugh mere millimeters above his lips, and Katsuki could smell some intoxicating combination of citrus, rosemary, and rice wine, as Shouto prodded his rim with a second finger and slid it in alongside the other. 

“You’re opening up so well for me, Katsuki.”

Shouto punctuated the praise by scissoring his fingers and Katsuki bucked his hips involuntarily, feeling Shouto’s dripping cock against the back of his thigh. 

He needed more, so much more. It was like some intense hunger pooled inside of him, and his head fell back, exposing the column of his throat. Shouto wasted no time taking advantage of the newly available skin, and he dragged his tongue from Katsuki’s Adam’s apple to his ear, sucking the lobe into his hot mouth. 

Shouto’s tongue, lips, teeth, and hands left Katsuki an incoherent puddle of sinful need, and he bit down on his hand to keep from begging as the third slick finger split him open so sweetly. 

When Shouto finally lined his cock up and began pressing inside, it was with unhurried movements—a languidly sensual task like they had all the time in the world. 

Shouto tasted like alcohol, smelled like winter, and felt like Katsuki’s dirtiest wet dreams. He was somehow the embodiment of everything Katsuki admired about the world: strength, power, morality, tenacity. It made him dangerous in a way, had him slithering under Katsuki’s skin since the day they’d met. 

He felt Shouto bottom out and pause, letting him adjust to that intense feeling, and it was like Katsuki was falling again—that heartbeat between explosions—except this time, he let himself enjoy the descent, pulling him in deeper and grinding their hips together.

But falling was a hazard, and falling for someone who may not even be into guys was the kind of unparalleled stupidity Katsuki always chastised others for. 

“You feel— fuck, Katsuki. Please let me fuck you, I don’t think I can wait...”

Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded frantically, his body holding enough tension to make his muscles ache. Shouto’s pupils were blown wide and he poured gratitude into another kiss as he pulled out. His cock slid in a wet glide against Katsuki’s walls, and they moaned in unison. 

“You’re so tight, Kat, so good for me. I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

His skin was hot to the touch, sweat beading on his forehead and Katsuki’s body reacted to the praise by clenching around him. Shouto gasped at the sensation and bucked his hips, causing him to slam back into that agonizing spot.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to move before you were ready, are you—“

“Do that again… Shouto, goddammit, do it again!”

It took a few seconds for the words to register, but by the time they did, it was all over—for Katsuki at least. 

Shouto pulled out and slammed back in with enough force to lift Katsuki’s ass off of the bed. The intense, blinding pleasure rippled through his body like a string of firecrackers, and it tore a scream from Katsuki’s throat that broke half way through. 

Shouto continued pounding into him with quick, brutal strokes. It was like he was ripping apart at the seams, coming undone around the cock buried in his stomach. Katsuki was so close, so incredibly dangerously near that invisible line of demarcation.

Shouto snapped his hips once, twice more, letting out a low moan, and Katsuki felt the hot burst of Shouto’s release inside of him. His movements slowed and Katsuki was thankful for the reprieve as he was filled with hot seed. Any longer and he would have been the one coming. 

“Fuck, halfie, that was—“

He yelped when Shouto pulled out and flipped him onto his stomach, and then let out a lewd wail when Shouto shoved his still hard cock back inside with a wet squelching noise. 

Katsuki could feel the cum leak out from where they were renewely joined and he fisted the sheets, writhing on the bed as Shouto went back to fucking him—this time using his own cum as lube.

It was filthy and unbearable and so fucking hot that Katsuki had to dig his nails into his palms to stave off his impending orgasm. 

Shouto was no less vocal when topping, pressing him into the bed by the back of his neck and gritting out all manner of devilish and drunken praise for how tight and wet and slutty Katsuki’s ass was. 

It was too much. Any longer and Katsuki would come and Shouto might not speak to him again, because this was just stress relief—just Shouto taking out the day’s frustrations on his body like a willing punching bag. 

“Stop, Sho! I’m gonna—“

Shouto pulled out and groaned, and Katsuki gasped at the loss, watching over his shoulder as Shouto stroked himself and aimed. The first jet of scalding hot cum hit Katsuki’s winking entrance and he whimpered, feeling the second and third and every pump after as Shouto came over his gaping ass. 

They were both breathing heavily, coming down from the intense high, and Katsuki flopped back over, glaring up at the man over him. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“The rule doesn’t say I only get to come once.”

“Fucking hell, warn me next time.”

“Next time?”

Katsuki blinked up at him. Shouto’s tone was unsure, a different question hidden behind the one he’d asked, but it was too obscured to make out.

“Yeah,” he grunted, looking down at his own hard cock where it twitched over his stomach. “We’ve got this whole thing going on, right? Rock, paper, scissors, and shit.”

Shouto nodded resolutely, his face twisted into something unreadable. “Right. Thank you by the way. I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

“Tsk. Like I couldn’t handle it.”

He got up with a little laugh and redressed, the alcohol obviously still governing his sloppy movements. 

When Shouto reached the door he turned back around, eyeing Katsuki warily. “I talked to Kirishima. You’re allowed to take care of it after I leave.” He gestured to Katsuki’s still hard cock. 

Thank fuck. “Is that so? Did he say anything else?”

Shouto’s eyes widened minutely and he flushed, looking away and shaking his head. He was obviously debating something, because his hand was still frozen on the doorknob. 

“Actually…” he turned back, face carefully masked. “You’re not allowed to think of me when you do. That would be super gay.”

“Hah. Weren’t gonna mention that one, Halfie?”

He scoffed but otherwise maintained a perfectly blank facade. “I forgot.”

Katsuki laughed and shooed him away, wasting no time in wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking himself to completion. 

And if he thought about Shouto the entire time, moaning his name as he dirtied his fist and stomach, then nobody had to know.

After all, Shouto might not be gay, but Katsuki definitely was. 

Chapter Text

“And if you visualize it, then you can take it. And that’s the sixth step in the twelve step process of achieving the ultimate self actualization.” 

Katsuki looked down at his phone and groaned. 

When he had been sent on this protection detail by Best Jeanist’s agency, he had been assured that the conference would be over by 16:00 sharp, but the glaring 17:42 staring back at him determined that was a fucking lie. 

It was fine though. Katsuki definitely didn’t care that the asshole was only halfway done with this goddamn self help bullshit. It wasn’t like he had better things to do anyway—like sleep, or studying for fucking finals. 

And Katsuki couldn’t just up and blow the place to shit. His therapist always told him that if he got too angry or upset that he should do math in his head—that it would switch the portion of his brain he was using and help him to calm down. But currently all it did was remind him about school and the series of exams that would invariably decide his future. 

He needed another distraction, something to keep him from ripping his hair out, soaking the hall in nitroglycerin, and lighting a motherfucking match. Katsuki pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages, looking for someone to yell at. 

He was in the middle of searching for his most recent conversation with Shitty Hair when he noticed a text from some contact labeled only with the scissors emoji. He didn’t remember ever receiving it, but it was opened, and buried behind two weeks worth of messages.  

Katsuki clicked on it, brows furrowing at the single direction.

Text me when you notice.

Katsuki scowled and went to type out who the fuck do you think you are!? But he paused with his finger on send.

He had been looking for a distraction, right? He wasn’t sure who had somehow gotten ahold of his phone to put the contact in, but something in his gut told him the stunt was more harmless than sinister.

Katsuki deleted the message, quickly typing out two words and pressing send before he could think better of it.

End me

He stared at the screen for a few minutes with no luck before stuffing the phone back into his pocket. Katsuki wasn’t sure why he was feeling disappointed by the lack of response. It wasn’t like he had expected anything.

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.

He jolted a little at the vibrations from his pocket and looked around before pulling his phone back out.

Oof mood.

I agree, but only if you end me first.

Wait. Why do you want me to end you?

Katsuki snorted in amusement at the three messages in quick succession.

How the fuck do you expect to end me if I’ve already ended you?

He didn’t have to wait nearly as long for a response this time, and Katsuki kept his phone out, briefly glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to him in the back of the hall.

Good point.

You spartan kick me off of my balcony and I pull you down with me.

I’m fourth floor

let’s make it my balcony.

Hmmm a fall from four floors may just piss us off.

But fifth? We’d never survive. 

We can totally switch it to yours if you don’t want guarantees, though 🙃

Katsuki rolled his eyes. The scissors emoji, fifth floor, two week old message. 

Of-fucking-course.

You talk like you’ve thought about this, Halfie.

It’s finals, Blasty. We’ve all thought about it.

Ugh

Don’t fucking remind me.

Shouto started typing and stopped several times before another message popped up.

You never answered my question.

Why do you want me to end you?

Finals?

In a manner of speaking.

Oh good. 

I was worried you weren’t going to be vague enough.

Tsk.
Stuck at internship.
No end in sight.

Did you really just take the time to type out ‘tsk’?

I’m both appalled and impressed.

Fuck off.

You texted me, Katsuki.

Where are you? Patrol?

Protection detail.

Some annoying as fuck motivational speaker.

Drop me a pin. I’ll be there in 20.

What?

Make it 30.

You’re fucking joking, right?

Right?

Halfie?

Shouto!?

ANSWER ME, ASSHOLE!

Katsuki stared at his phone for a solid five minutes before realizing that the bastard wasn’t planning on texting back. 

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket with an annoyed huff. He obviously wasn’t going to actually send a pin. If Shouto was serious, he was going to have to work for it...

Of course, he made it an entire 5 minutes before sending the pin—convincing himself he only did so out of morbid curiosity. 

Katsuki put his phone away for the last time and went back to scanning the crowd. He had no idea why it was important for this specific speaker to have a protection detail when Katsuki was sure that nobody could want more harm to come to the asshole than he did personally. 

The self help bullshit continued to drag on and Katsuki found himself fidgeting as the clock ticked closer to Shouto’s 30 minute mark. He didn’t know why it made him nervous, but there was something unpredictable about Shouto’s behavior that he couldn’t quite pin down. 

Anyone else was simple—they were all extras who could be read like picture books for really dumb people, but not Shouto. Shouto was one of those hundred year old anthologies tucked away in a used bookstore. He was filled with poems and proverbs and notes that didn’t make sense, and just when Katsuki thought he could grasp what the book was about, it always changed. 

Commotion from the lobby drew Katsuki’s attention away from his thoughts, and he started preparing himself for a fight when the doors burst open, and in stormed the chaotic enigma himself. 

His hair was a mess of flyaways that fell out of a braid to frame his face in a wild tangle, and it looked like he ran the entire way from their dorms. Which he very well could have.

Katsuki opened his mouth to ask ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ But Shouto was paying him very little attention as he breathed heavily and pointed up at the speaker with a shaky finger. 

“H-HOW DARE YOU—“ his voice reverberated around the hall and he broke off on a pant to suck in more air, straightening his back and keeping his eyes on the speaker who was now frozen in shock. “HOW DARE YOU FUCK MY FATHER, HE IS MARRIED!”

The room erupted into shocked gasps as people took their phones out to start recording. Katsuki was too busy blinking dumbly to register that Shouto was running his way until the asshole grabbed his wrist with a shit-eating grin and devilish glee painted on his flushed face. 

“Run.”

And then the rest of security was rushing into the room and Katsuki was being tugged along behind Shouto in an all out sprint. 

They burst through the double doors out onto the busy street, narrowly missing a group of passers by. Katsuki’s phone was vibrating incessantly from it’s hidden pocket, but he didn’t dare stop to see who the fuck kept calling. 

He was still dressed in his hero costume, but Shouto was wearing civilian clothing—a thin V-neck with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a tight pair of jeans that had Katsuki periodically checking out his ass as they ran. 

They were able to lose the security team in the bustle of evening foot traffic, and Katsuki finally tugged Shouto down an alley so they could catch their breath and he could answer his damn phone. 

“What?” He snapped out into the mic as soon as the line connected. 

Best Jeanist sighed heavily and muttered something that was too quiet to make out. “Did you by any chance just cause a scene and run from the protection detail that you were supposed to be part of?”

Katsuki scoffed and leaned against the brick building, watching Shouto slide down the wall opposite him, as they both came down off of the adrenaline high. 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ did. The bastard was taking too long and I’ve got shit to do—finals to study for.”

There was another defeated sigh and Jeanist cleared his throat. “Fine. I’ll smooth this over.”

“Tsk. Good.” Katsuki went to hang up, but was stopped by Jeanist’s voice. 

“Oh, and Bakugou?”

“ What?”

“You’re my intern. Shouto is not. His father will want to have words with him.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. He was going to question how the asshole knew about Shouto’s involvement, but then he remembered the cameras and flashes of light when Icyhot had burst into the hall in a breathless flurry. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

The line went dead and Katsuki put his phone back, returning his attention to the pretty bastard who was silently watching him. 

“Your old man’s gonna be pissed at you, you know that?”

Shouto snorted and tilted his head. “When have I ever cared what he thought?”

“What the fuck was that back there, by the way?”

Shouto’s look morphed into one of confusion. “A rescue mission, duh. You said it was taking too long. Finals start tomorrow... you may be top of the class, but you need time to study just like the rest of us.”

Shouto staggered to his feet while using the building to lean on. His hair was somehow even messier now, but it suited him in a way. It matched every contradictory image that Katsuki had in his head. 

His face was still pink and Katsuki felt heat in his cheeks too, but it didn’t stop his feet from moving toward Shouto, pulling Katsuki forward like some magnet. 

He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to move in the first place but one second he was boxing Shouto in and the next moment their mouths crashed together in a collision of a kiss. 

Shouto groaned into his mouth and carded his fingers through Katsuki’s hair, hooking a leg around his waist and grinding their hips together. Katsuki picked him up with ease and pinned him to the wall, gripping his ass firmly and rolling his hardness against Shouto’s.

They continued in that clothed simulation of sex, rocking and fucking against each other, breathing the same air and swallowing every sound. Katsuki felt dizzy, intoxicated by the feeling of Shouto against him. 

“F-fuck… Katsuki.” 

Katsuki whined and bit down on the junction of Shouto’s throat—his name having never sounded so sweet as it did falling from Shouto’s kiss swollen lips. 

“We—we should get back…”

“What, Shouto? Don’t want me anymore?” He smirked and rolled his hips again, drawing a lewd moan from the pretty bastard. 

“Ah—shit… I meant we should get back because I need you inside of me and we can’t fuck in this alley.” 

Katsuki dropped him and Shouto yelped, barely catching himself on unsteady legs. 

“Should’ve said that sooner, let’s fucking go.”

“Asshole.” Shouto grumbled with a fake pout. 

They made it back to the dorms a little over an hour later due to traffic and the fact that they kept tugging one another down empty streets to make out. By the time they stumbled through Katsuki’s door, his cock was angry and leaking. 

Shouto shoved him down and stripped his pants off like he hadn’t been exaggerating about needing him, and quickly peeled his own clothes off as well before raising a fist for their normal game. 

Katsuki’s breath hitched at the reminder of what this was. They weren’t two lovers, boyfriends, giggling and running hand in hand down the street in a youthful display of chaos and romance. They were part of an arrangement—catharsis in the form of a warm hole to fill. 

He lifted his own hand in a daze. 

Katsuki picked paper, Shouto picked scissors.

Again. 

Shouto grinned and jumped on top of him, pulling him into a single, forceful kiss and pulling away. 

“Sit on my face.”

Katsuki’s face flushed hot and his brain stopped working. “Uh—I, wh-what?”

Shouto slid off of him to lie on his back. “I want you to sit on my face—I’m going to eat you out.”

“But… what the fuck… it’s your turn to come and you said you wanted—“

“Just because I get to come doesn’t mean I can’t make it good for you too.”

He fixed Katsuki with that endearing stare that said trust me , and Katsuki groaned before shakily getting on his knees. 

“H-how the fuck do I do this?”

“Come here, face that way, I’ll guide you.” 

Katsuki did as he was directed, throwing one leg over Shouto’s chest and sliding back as hands came to knead his ass. Katsuki’s breathing was shallow and uneven and he looked down at where Shouto’s flush cock was bobbing over his stomach. 

The first swipe of Shouto’s tongue against his hole had his body tensing instantly, and he felt one cool and one warm hand spreading him wider—another broad stroke eliciting a gasp from him. 

Katsuki steadied himself against Shouto’s thighs, bending over as the warm tongue circled his entrance. It felt… new and foreign, but addicting at the same time and before long, the licks went from tentative to eager. 

Shouto breached him with the tip on his tongue and Katsuki moaned, falling forward more and realizing how close he was to Shouto’s cock. 

He took it into one of his hands and rolled his hips against the tongue fucking him open. Katsuki could see the bead of precum forming at the tip and he swiped his tongue over the slit experimentally, causing Shouto’s fingers to dig into his skin and his hot breath to ghost out against Katsuki’s wet entrance. 

The taste was salty and the texture strange, but he continued his ministrations, sucking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue. Shouto must have liked it, because he gasped and bucked his hips, before plunging his tongue deep into Katsuki’s ass. 

Shouto’s cock slid back toward Katsuki’s throat and he felt himself choke, but the feeling of the wet muscle fucking him open had his mind forgoing the need for oxygen and his body bearing down harder. 

Katsuki’s eyes rolled back when Shouto did something with his tongue—Shouto’s cock popping into his throat. He pulled off with a gag, gasping for air, his lips still connected by a string of saliva and precum. 

Shouto continued feasting on him, sinking a finger in alongside his tongue, and Katsuki felt his whole body tighten. He went back down for more, swallowing Shouto’s cock and bobbing his head in time with each trust of the finger and flick of his tongue. 

Shouto started thrusting up into his mouth and Katsuki tried to relax his jaw, but the pleasure was slowly building and he wasn’t supposed to get to come. 

“F-fuck, Shouto… Stop, or I’ll…”

Shouto stopped eating him out and slapped his ass, letting out a breathless little laugh. 

“Okay lay down, I’m gonna ride you.”

Katsuki’s head was spinning but he did what he was told, watching him move. Shouto straddled him and lined Katsuki up, sinking down onto his thick cock without so much as spit. 

Katsuki was in the middle of protesting, of saying ‘Jesus fucking Christ grab some lube,’ when Shouto’s puffy rim opened to him without resistance, sucking him to the hilt in an easy glide. 

They groaned in unison at the moment of joining. Shouto rolled his hips, and his body was warm and wet — as wet as any creamy slit Katsuki had ever seen in porn. 

He should have been thankful that he wasn’t hurting him, but the only thing that flashed through his lust filled mind was that Shouto had already been prepped.

Was it lube coating his insides? Was it cum? Katsuki grabbed onto his hips and handled him roughly, tugging him down while fucking his hips up. Shouto let his eyes flutter shut and braced himself as best he could, and Katsuki used him—used his slutty body the way someone else might have used it that very same day. 

Like this, he could see the barely visible bulge of Shouto’s normally flat stomach with each thrust and Katsuki longed to fill him to the brim, to coat his guts with enough cum that he was leaking for days. 

But sadly, it wasn’t his turn, and Katsuki instead focused on slamming into the spot in brutal strokes in hopes of tipping Shouto over the edge and feeling him quiver around him.

After their first two times, Katsuki had thought he’d worked up a tolerance to Shouto. He’d been so sure that nothing could affect him in this way, least of all this specific bastard.

But Shouto coming apart on his cock was a whole new method of delivery, like he’d said fuck that gradual high of extended release, fuck the blood-brain barrier altogether. 

Katsuki was taking lines straight to his synapses, a different kind of drug with an instant high and a cataclysmic crash. 

Shouto writhed on top of him, needy— so fucking needy —hips grinding and bouncing in a practiced rhythm that had Katsuki soaking him in through a haze of red. 

He was struck by how good Shouto had gotten at this. This was only their third time, so was the bastard fucking other people? Did he have this arrangement with someone else? Was that why he was already slick?

Katsuki dug his fingers into Shouto’s waist in a fit of possessiveness, hoping to leave some evidence of his impact on his beautifully lithe body. 

The poisonous jealousy coursed through his veins and Katsuki flipped them, pinning Shouto under him and folding him in half. He made sure to fuck him hard, to shove his fingers into soft flesh and sink his teeth into any available skin. 

Whatever fucker Shouto was seeing wouldn’t be able to miss Katsuki’s marks. Nobody would be able to. 

He shoved his fingers into Shouto’s mouth, holding it open and spitting in it like he’d seen in porn and Shouto convulsed, his orgasm ripped from his body by Katsuki’s rough hands.

The last time, Katsuki had been too caught up in being railed to see Shouto come—but now?

He had never been one for faith, but there was something about the way Shouto’s  body fell apart underneath him. Katsuki found religion in the curve of his spine—saw god in the parting of kiss swollen lips hung open on a silent prayer. 

It was with every modicum of restraint he had that Katsuki didn’t fill him instantly, even as his tight heat spasmed with the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

There were tears at the corners of Shouto’s eyes, and Katsuki bent down, pulling him into a kiss and languidly fucking him through it until he had to pull out. 

Shouto was laid in a sated and sticky mess. His breath slowly evening out. 

“Holy shit, Kat.”

Katsuki stared at the ceiling, mind still reeling with jealousy and sex.

“Kat…?”

Shouto leaned up on an elbow, looking down at him. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Fuckin’ peachy.”

Shouto scowled and flicked him on the cheek and Katsuki slapped his hand away. He wasn’t going to say anything, but his stupid, treacherous mouth was opening before he could stop it.

“Who else are you fucking, pretty boy?”

His eyes went wide but his brows pinched, and Katsuki resisted the urge to hide. 

“Umm, I’m not fucking anyone else… why would you ask that?”

“You were prepped, you fucking liar.”

Shouto blinked twice before burying his face against Katsuki’s bare chest—his shoulders shaking with mirth. He mumbled something but it was too muffled to make out, and Katsuki shoved him till he leaned back up and wiped his eyes.

“I was… preoccupied when you first texted me.”

Katsuki tilted his head and Shouto sighed.

“I was fucking myself on a dildo, Katsuki.” His smile was a little sleepy and a lot fond and it did something weird and abso-fucking-lutely unwelcomed to Katsuki’s chest. 

“You’re already such a handful, I don’t think I could juggle anyone else on top of you and school.”

“But we’re not gonna be in school much longer, are we, pretty boy?”

Shouto’s smile fell a little and something unreadable flickered through his mismatched eyes. 

“No… we’re not.”

Katsuki thought about it. He wondered if it meant their arrangement was over. Would they have room between hero work and everything that came with it? 

It didn’t feel like they had had enough time. Katsuki was supposed to be figuring out if Shouto was actually gay, but he was no closer to having it answered than he had been that first time. 

And now here they were, just days before graduation and life long careers. And it was the last chance to just be with each other. Time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand, and all Katsuki could do was internally curse himself for not fucking confessing. 

Shouto brought a hand—the warm one—up to his cheek, holding him like he was something fragile and precious, like he didn’t know he was a fucking powder keg. Or maybe Shouto did know, maybe that’s why he was gentle. He wasn’t underestimating Katsuki any more, he hadn’t for a long time. 

And he was looking. He was finally looking.

“Katsuki, I…”

Katsuki carded calloused fingers into his hair, pulling him down into a lazy kiss. When they finally broke apart, it was with hesitation, like they couldn’t bear the distance between them. Shouto stayed close, and Katsuki stared up at him expectantly, waiting for the pretty bastard to say what he obviously wanted to.

“About the arrangement,” Shouto’s eyes were wide and beautiful and hopeful, his face framed with sex-tousled hair and set with something like resolve. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Chapter Text

“Fuck! Katsuki, harder—just like that…”

Shouto let out a near growl and slammed his hips down, taking the fake cock to the base and seeing stars. He lifted back up in a frantic desire to be ruined and repeated the motion, again and again, chasing his release with the single-minded drive to come and be filled. 

He was so close, teetering on the edge of his orgasm. His entire body felt hot—fire rippling under his skin and extending to his right half. Shouto’s thighs ached after bouncing for so long, but the euphoric stretch and lube assisted glide were like a drug. 

“Just a little more, Kat—“

Bzzzzt, bzzzzt.

Shouto stopped on the downswing, sitting fully on the dildo and huffing in annoyance at his phone. 

As much as he would have loved to ignore it and continue with his ‘study break,’ he was well aware of Midoriya’s habit of texting ‘be over in a few minutes’ and then excitedly throwing open his door to show him his latest figure or poster—and Shouto wasn’t confident that the flimsy dorm locks would hold up to the guy who sometimes didn’t know his own strength.

Shouto came up off of the thick silicone cock and gasped at the loss as it left the warmth of his body. His muscles tightened around nothing and he felt excess lube trickle down his inner thighs in a sticky stream. 

The text notification was labeled with Katsuki’s name when his screen lit up, and Shouto almost fell on his face, fumbling to unlock his phone as quickly as humanly possible. 

End me. 

It was the first message Katsuki had ever sent him, and it was just two words—two beautiful, albeit morbid, words. 

Shouto snorted out a laugh, excitedly typing out three responses in quick succession.

Katsuki replied to his messages with common sense, of all things, and Shouto tried to think of a compromise, like working out a way to end each other was a perfectly normal ice-breaker. 

He hit send and flopped onto his stomach, absentmindedly biting his lip to get rid of the stupid grin on his face. 

He knew it was ridiculous, and he’d be the first to admit that his initial crush on Katsuki had grown into something of dastardly proportions—well, he wouldn’t admit it aloud— but he was absolutely certain that his classmate didn’t feel the same way.

And why would he? 

Regardless of Katsuki’s sexuality, he deserved someone perfect and strong and beautiful, a person without all of the baggage and trauma. 

Shouto currently likened himself to a placeholder. Which he surprisingly didn’t consider a bad thing. He was exceedingly grateful to have even a portion of Katsuki’s attention, but he also wasn’t above stealing more of it in the form of witty text conversations if he could; because, any second that Katsuki was talking to him was a second he wasn’t talking to other people. 

So he’d borrow more time for now, and watch the clocks as they ticked down to graduation and a potential end to their arrangement, and when Katsuki finally realized that there were better people out there…

Well, he’d burn that bridge when they came to it.

You never answered my question.

Why do you want me to end you?

Finals?

In a manner of speaking.

Oh good. 

I was worried you weren’t going to be vague enough.

Tsk. Stuck at internship. No end in sight.

Internship? 

Shouto looked at the time, eyes widening. It was the night before finals started and Katsuki was still stuck at his internship? 

What’s the point of practical hero training if he isn’t given time to study the theory!?

Shouto kept the conversation going, trying not to let his temper flare. That never helped anybody. Instead he focused on coming up with a solution. 

He could always call Best Jeanist’s agency, but he wasn’t the most trusting or respectful when it came to authority figures, so that might not be his best option. 

There was something though. He looked down at the time again, and did a mental tally of how much material he still needed to review for exams. Shouto was relatively confident that he could extend his little ‘study break’ to include a rescue mission. 

It’s basically studying, isn’t it?

Drop me a pin. I’ll be there in 20.

Katsuki’s response came quickly.

What?

Shouto got up from his spot on the floor, his still slick dildo catching his attention.

Make it 30.

Shouto threw the phone down and lined back up, sinking onto the thick toy and teasing his nipples. He let his cock bob untouched as he went back to the same punishing rhythm as before, moaning and internally giving thanks that Sero was watching some Spanish soap opera too loudly in his room. 

The warm silicone was splitting him open so well, stretching him out and reaching the deepest most satisfying spots. He’d gotten exceedingly good at riding the thing—at knowing when to bounce and when to rock his hips. He knew what a difference in angle would do and how leaning back caused the silky head to abuse his prostate in the most delicious way. 

He threw his head back, bracing himself on his arms and repeatedly sitting on the toy. His body continued to clamp down around it like a perfectly formed cock sleeve, but there was no resistance given the amount of lube he’d squeezed into himself. 

He could almost imagine it was Katsuki’s cum leaking out from where they were joined, coating his plush thighs in sticky release. 

Every molded vein and ridge was extra friction to his overstimulated walls and Shouto brought himself down harder, the near painful heat building to an extreme. His muscles ached and there was a hint of pain behind each slam of his ass against the silicone balls, but his body was strung tight. 

He came without a modicum of subtlety or pride, screaming Katsuki’s name and spurting onto his stomach untouched. His thighs came together and he ground against the toy, writhing through each aftershock and jolt that washed over him.

Shouto fell back with a soft thud, squirming until the dildo slid out and breathing out a sigh.

As much as I’d love to stay and wallow in the crushing, post-orgasmic stint of shame, I have a not-boyfriend to save.

He grabbed his discarded boxers and used them to wipe his stomach, stumbling to the small bathroom and cleaning himself more thoroughly, before quickly throwing on some clothes. 

Knock, knock.

Shouto’s eyes narrowed and he threw open his door, watching Sero’s look morph from surprise to something like mortification, his hand still raised from knocking.

“Sero?”

Sero’s eyes kept flicking behind Shouto and he glanced back, face heating as he realized that his generously sized dildo and half-used bottle of lube were still sitting conspicuously in the middle of his room. 

Shouto spun back around, shuffling out into the hall and closing his door behind him.

“Umm… what… did you need some help with something?”

Sero’s eyes widened and he shook his head, his gaze flickering back to Shouto and then darting away.

“N-no. I was just going to see if you wanted to-to study…”

Shouto leaned back against his door, trying to shake off the embarrassment. It had already been seven minutes since he texted Katsuki; he needed to get a move on. 

“Study… is that what you call watching those shows?” Shouto tried to smirk, but it felt strained. “You keep the volume too loud.”

Sero sputtered, this time for a different reason. “OH-oh those… heh they just remind me of home, you know? My Tia always watches them, they’re kinda entertaining...”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously and Shouto snorted.

“They sound it. What was the whole thing with that woman yelling earlier? I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Oh! Maria was livid cause she found out Aarón was sleeping with her sister! So she burst in during Maureen’s quinceanera pointing at him and yelling. It was wild.”

They both laughed and Shouto glanced back down at his phone. 

“Um, I-I’m sorry I have to go... do something… but maybe we can study later? If you’re still awake?”

Sero smiled wide and nodded. “Sure thing! I’ll probably be up all night, this stoichiometry stuff for chem is killing me.”

“Oh, yeah I can help, it’s all just math.”

“ Yeah , that’s my problem.”

Shouto snorted again and shook his head, offering Sero a wave before racing to the elevator. 

He pulled out his phone to make sure that Katsuki had sent the pin—which he had, though not before his five message mini-meltdown. Shouto breathed out a little laugh, unable to keep the fond smile from his face as he exited the dorms. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would rescue him, just that Katsuki deserved study time like the rest of them. 

The pin wasn’t very far, but the traffic was heavy, and he was better off on foot than taking the bus.  

And not just because the bus stop was covered in posters celebrating the number one hero.

Shouto rolled his eyes and raced past the many pictures of his father, trying to decide how to get Katsuki out of there. If he was stealthy, he could convince Katsuki to slip out a side entrance, but there was no way he’d willingly agree to abandon the protection detail while the conference was still going.

Hmm… so I have to end the conference. 

Shouto narrowly avoided running over an elderly couple, leaping out of the way just in time and vaulting an outdoor sign for a cat cafe. 

Okay, how do I end a conference? Fire alarms? Anonymous tipoff about a perceived threat? No, Katsuki would get roped into helping on both of those. 

He jumped off of the sidewalk to pass a group of tourists, and immediately leapt back to safety just in time to not be hit by a motorcycle. 

So it has to be enough to end the thing, but innocuous enough to not pull Katsuki in. I need something big, something dramatic, something—

Shouto came to an ungraceful stop in front of the convention hall. His chest was tight and his hair had come loose from its braid to tickle his cheeks and ears in a tangled mixture of red and white.

There was another poster of Endeavor on the door and Shouto smirked, his brilliant—and admittedly batshit insane—plan falling into place.

Shouto’s lungs burned.

He was running again. They were running—hand in hand down the streets and through the bustle of foot traffic. 

His muscles protested as his feet repeatedly met concrete, but Katsuki’s warm fingers were interlocked with his and it made him feel so wholly alive that nothing could have slowed his pace. 

Well, not until Katsuki dragged him down an alley and pulled out his phone in an angry flurry. 

Shouto slid down the brick wall across from him, tuning out the one sided conversation and trying to catch his breath. He let his eyes flutter closed, his pulse thrumming in his ears, adrenaline seeping out by the second.

Katsuki continued talking and Shouto opened his eyes to watch him. He was wearing his hero suit. It was less appealing than its winter counterpart, but by far more appealing than anything Shouto had ever worn in his life.

Katsuki’s heavily muscled arms glistened with the thinnest layer of sweat, and his broad chest heaved as he fought to calm his breathing. His pants were baggy, but held up by a wide belt that accentuated his ridiculously tapered waist. Shouto’s fingers twitched with the urge to wrap around it. 

“Your old man’s gonna be pissed at you, you know that?”

Shouto hadn’t realized that Katsuki’d hung up the phone, but he snorted and tilted his head all the same. 

“When have I ever cared what he thought?”

“What the fuck was that back there, by the way?” His brows were pinched, but his cursing seemed to lack its usual heat.

“A rescue mission, duh. You said it was taking too long. Finals start tomorrow… you may be top of the class, but you need time to study just like the rest of us.”

He leaned against the building and slowly stood, his legs screaming at him to stay down. 

There was something unreadable on Katsuki’s face, and he was walking toward him. Shouto stayed still, not sure what it meant. 

Was he mad? Disappointed? 

Katsuki didn't stop until he was pressing Shouto into the brick, hands coming to rest on either side of his head, carmine eyes dropping to Shouto’s parted lips.

Oh…

Katsuki’s lips on his felt like the sweetest form of torture, like having everything and nothing at all.

It was rough, and hungry—a haphazard joining of tongues and teeth. 

Shouto couldn’t stop himself from groaning and tugging at Katsuki’s hair. He lifted a leg and used it to pull him closer, deepening the kiss and throwing his entire body into it. 

Katsuki wasted no time in picking him up, shoving him back into the wall and squeezing his ass as they ground their hardening cocks together. 

It was heady and thrilling and more intense than riding that dildo had been—and they weren’t even fucking. 

Shouto wondered if the reason was because he was falling so hard. Maybe it wasn’t always like this. To Katsuki it was probably no more cathartic than a good workout or sinking his fist into an unsuspecting sheet of drywall. But to Shouto it was dizzying and intoxicating. 

“F-fuck… Katsuki.” He tried to suck in air, but his body was screaming to reconnect their lips.

Instead, Katsuki bent down, making a high noise and sinking his teeth into the base of his throat. Shouto’s eyes rolled back and he could have come on the spot, but they were still in public, and he wasn’t sure how much he could get away with after having already pulled his earlier stunt.

“We—we should get back…”

“What, Shouto? Don’t want me anymore?” 

Katsuki punctuated it by rolling his hips and Shouto keened.

Holy fucking soba noodles, he’s going to kill me.

Well, two can play that game.

“Ah—shit...I meant we should get back because I need you inside of me and we can’t fuck in this alley.”

Shouto felt the immediate sensation of falling as Katsuki dropped him, and he bit out a curse as he fought to stay off his ass. 

“Should’ve said that sooner, let’s fucking go.”

“Asshole.” 

They may have made it back more quickly if they could have kept their hands off of one another. Shouto was so wound up by the time they burst through the door to Katsuki’s room that it felt like he’d been edged. 

Katsuki discarded his gauntlets by the door and Shouto shoved him down on the bed before unclipping his belt and tugging his pants roughly down his legs. He quickly stripped himself and then, of course, lifted his fist like he wasn’t just planning on playing scissors again.

Much to his surprise, Katsuki played paper and Shouto briefly wondered how long it would take for Katsuki to catch on, but he was too busy jumping on top of him and crashing their lips together again.

“Sit on my face.”

Shouto’s mouth moved before he could stop it, but he was too turned on at the prospect of eating Katsuki out to take it back. 

Katsuki’s face flushed a beautiful shade of pink and it made him look younger and less experienced, which Shouto supposed was understandable. 

“Uh—I, wh-what?”

Shouto flopped over on his back, shooting him a heated look. “I want you to sit on my face—I’m going to eat you out.”

“But… what the fuck… it’s your turn to come and you said you wanted—“

“Just because I get to come doesn’t mean I can’t make it good for you too.”

Shouto didn’t really know why it was so important to him, but he needed Katsuki to remember this. Even if this was the last time—if they were somehow pulled apart by graduation and hero work—he wanted to make certain that he had as many of Katsuki’s firsts as possible. And then maybe, if he was lucky, he could exist in Katsuki’s memories long after whatever this was ended. 

He directed Katsuki over him, sliding his hands over smooth skin and feeling him shake above him, whether from nerves or anticipation.

He spread Katsuki wide, taking in the irresistible sight of his perfect pink hole. Shouto flicked his tongue out experimentally, swiping it over the rim and causing Katsuki to stiffen and gasp. 

He did it again. He could feel the way the muscle tightened before giving way under his tongue and he pressed the tip inside, pulling him wider and kneading the firm flesh of his ass. 

Katsuki had leaned forward and fisted his cock, and Shouto breathed out a low curse when his hot tongue flicked out to slide along his slit. Shouto went back to licking and kissing at his perfect entrance as Katsuki sucked the head of his cock into his small mouth. 

Shouto couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up and he felt the velvety resistance of Katsuki’s throat. He increased his ministrations, spreading him impossibly wide and shoving his tongue deep into his tightness. 

He almost wished—however lewd it was—that he had done this before, after filling Katsuki. What would it be like to clean him out? To savor his fucked out little noises as Shouto feasted on his used, overstimulated hole. 

Shouto curled his tongue and Katsuki bore down on him, causing his cock to plunge into his throat. His wet muscles spasmed around the length and Katsuki gagged beautifully before coming up and gasping for air. 

Shouto didn’t let up though, and he added a finger, eating him out like a starving man. It wasn’t long before Katsuki dove back down, swallowing his cock once more and bobbing his head in time with each thrust and flick of his tongue. 

Eventually it must have been too much because Katsuki was begging him to stop. 

Shouto laughed and slapped his pert ass. “Okay lay down, I’m gonna ride you.”

He was exceedingly grateful that he’d already fucked himself open. There was still lube steadily trickling out and slicking his thighs and ass, and Shouto lined up, lowering himself immediately. 

But no matter how many times he’d bounced on that dildo, it would never be enough to emulate the ecstasy that was sinking down onto Katsuki’s cock. 

They groaned in unison and Shouto ground his hips, feeling the buzzing beneath his skin and overwhelmingly hot thickness buried to the hilt inside of him. 

Shouto lifted himself with practiced ease, coming back down and rolling his hips at the same time, feeling every delicious inch of Katsuki’s generous cock. 

It was painful yet hedonistic in the best way, like the sharp punch of wasabi or the warming burn of sake sliding down his throat. 

Rough hands came to rest on his hips, and Katsuki moved against him, pulling him down and fucking up into his body at the same time. Shouto threw his head back and closed his eyes, trying to brace himself as best as he could. 

He was sinfully aware of how deliciously sore his hole already was, but no toy would ever compare to Katsuki slamming inside of him with rough strokes. 

Shouto lost himself to it, bouncing and rolling his hips, trying to take more with every powerful thrust. Katsuki’s fingers were digging into his waist with bruising force and Shouto hoped that it would leave a mark. He wanted to trace the lines of Katsuki’s claim, to be reminded that he’d ever had him in this way. 

Katsuki flipped them, holding Shouto down and hitching his legs up until he was folded nearly in half. The new angle knocked the breath out of him and had Katsuki sliding into Shouto’s prostate with every slam of his hips. 

Katsuki was biting him, marking him over and over and Shouto writhed, his second orgasm of the day building to a crescendo.

Shouto wanted to hold on, to savor every bit of faux intimacy he could, but then Katsuki’s fingers were sliding against his tongue and he was spitting into Shouto’s mouth and it was all over.

Shouto came instantly, body shuddering and pulsing, his cock pumping his release between them. Katsuki fucked him through it, letting him ride out the waves before leaning down for one last kiss.

He was panting by the time Katsuki pulled out and collapsed next to him, and Shouto fought to catch his breath, head still spinning.

“Holy shit, Kat.”

Katsuki stayed silent, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable look on his face. He didn’t even attempt to make any of his usual cocky comments, and Shouto propped himself up on his elbow. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Fuckin’ peachy.”

Shouto flicked him on the cheek and scowled, and Katsuki slapped his hand away, his red eyes meeting blue and grey.

“Who else are you fucking, pretty boy?”

Wait, what?

Shouto was so thrown off by the question that for a moment all he could do was blink and scrunch his brows. 

“Umm, I’m not fucking anyone else… why would you ask that?”

“You were prepped, you fucking liar.”

Oh… oh no. 

Shouto fell down against Katsuki’s chest, muffling his laughter. He hadn’t even considered the implications of already being stretched and ready to sink down on Katsuki’s cock. 

“I was… preoccupied when you first texted me.”

He had to wipe his eyes and hope that Katsuki didn't need clarification, but of course his confused look told Shouto he couldn’t be so lucky. 

“I was fucking myself on a dildo, Katsuki.” He smiled, finally feeling the exhaustion of the day settle deep into his bones. “You’re already such a handful, I don’t think I could juggle anyone else on top of you and school.”

“But we’re not gonna be in school much longer, are we, pretty boy?”

Shouto was once again reminded of how temporary this was. Everything from the bite marks on his neck to the feeling of Katsuki’s sweat slick skin under his fingertips was fleeting, and it caused a sinking feeling in his gut.

“No… we’re not.”

He didn’t want it to end. Shouto’s hand moved on its own, cupping Katsuki’s cheek. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt like throwing up, but Shouto was sure it would tear him apart if this were the last time, and he had never been one to back down from a challenge.

“Katsuki, I—”

Katsuki slid a hand into his hair and tugged him down, and Shouto melted into the kiss—clamping his eyes shut and allowing himself to feel. He could almost let himself believe the intimacy of it, to venture to hope that Katsuki felt the same. And maybe it was that glimmer, or the way that they stayed so close, that gave him the courage to finally confess his feelings.

“About the arrangement… there’s something I need to tell you.”

It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. I’m in love—

“Oh, fuck! Just like that!”

Kaminari’s muffled voice traveled through the thin walls and Katsuki and Shouto jumped at the sound of Kirishima’s headboard hitting drywall... repeatedly… and in a very specific rhythm.

Their eyes went wide as the banging got closer together and the grunts and cries got steadily louder, and Katsuki’s look morphed from confusion to disgust before they both burst into mortified laughter. 

“Oh… oh my god, no!” 

Shouto scrambled up and clamped his hands over his ears, and Katsuki hid his face, his shoulders shaking.

“Holy fucking shit…” He dragged his hands away from his face with a stern look and pointed at Shouto.

“The only reason my cock is hard is because I was fucking you! This has nothing to do with it!”

Shouto noticed his very obvious arousal and bust out laughing again, earning him a swat over the head. 

“Wh-Who do you think gets to come?” Shouto choked it out between giggles and Katsuki snorted in amusement. 

“From how loud Pikachu is being? I’d say he’s the lucky bastard this time… ugh, I don’t even want to think about it…”

Shouto’s cock twitched, which didn’t go unnoticed, and his entire face flushed hot at Katsuki’s renewed laughter. 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting turned on by this, Icyhot?”

He shook his head vehemently, and Katsuki pulled him back down with a smirk. 

“Not sure I can help you with this one, wouldn’t want to give you any ideas about me being gay.”

Shouto tried not to flinch—really he did—but the words hit him like a slap in the face. 

How could he have forgotten? How could he ever have thought he had a chance with Katsuki besides being the latest flavor of stress relief?

Shouto let his expression ice over, uncaring of the confused look on Katsuki’s face. He tried to pull away, but Katsuki was wrapping a hand around his arm and tilting his head.

“Hey, what the fuck’s wrong? What were you gonna say a second ago? About the arrangement?”

Right, his confession. His failed confession. 

“Just… if hero work gets stressful,” Shouto swallowed, and his tongue tasted a lot like cowardice. “You have my number.”

Katsuki’s fingers slipped off of his arm and Shouto stood, dressing without a word, and ignoring the way red eyes followed his movements.

It was all he could do to maintain some semblance of his pride—to keep the icy facade from shattering like that tiny sliver of hope. 

He reached for the door without so much as a goodbye, swinging it open, slamming it shut, and racing to the stairwell. 

Shouto had asked Midoriya once how he kept smiling, how he was able to emulate All Might during those times when the world seemed to fall apart around him. 

Midoriya explained that it was about silver linings, about finding even the barest hint of hope and clinging to it like a lifeline. 

But right now Shouto didn’t feel very hopeful, and the only silver lining he could come up with was that he was back in his room before the first tear fell. 

Chapter Text

Dynamight! Over here! Dynamight!

Katsuki stepped out of the gala and shielded his eyes against the barrage of camera flashes, scowling as he made his way to the orange Acura NSX parked out front. 

He always hated these sorts of stuffy affairs, and he wanted nothing more than to drive home to his penthouse and sleep off the combination of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, but his agent would kill him if he didn’t give the press at least one statement about his title. 

So Katsuki turned back around, not yet sliding into the sports car. He flicked open the button on his stupidly expensive suit jacket and pointed at a small woman toward the front who was holding a microphone in her shaking fingers. 

“You get one question, eyebrows, make it count.”

“I—Mr. Dynamight, sir. How does it feel to be named America’s Number One Hero for the fifth year in a row when you’ve only been in the states for seven?” 

His lips ticked up into ‘the smirk that sold’ according to his agent—the one that showed off his pearly white teeth and gave him the reputation of America’s favorite bad boy.

“It feels like winning.”

Katsuki loved driving. 

He’d never had the chance to learn while living in Japan, but there was no shortage of curving mountain roads or scenic oceanic highways on America’s West coast.

It was one of the earliest things he’d picked up after moving, too. Something about sliding behind the wheel, feeling the hum of the engine and the way the vehicle hugged the road kept him grounded.

When hero work got stressful, when he was feeling homesick, when he started questioning his decision to move shortly after graduation—it was always the drive that cleared his head. 

Katsuki pulled into the underground garage of his building, begrudgingly turning off the car and making his way up to the penthouse, where he’d spend yet another night alone.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t find anyone to warm his bed, but no matter how many people he brought home, he was never able to go through with it. 

It was almost enough to make him wonder if he was even interested in sex, but then he started thinking about Yuuei and those few weeks he and Shouto had spent together. 

It was probably considered excessive to still be hung up on someone he slept with four times, seven years ago, but for some inexplicable reason, it was that bastard’s perfect face burned behind his eyelids on those nights he drove to forget his mistakes. 

And he didn’t have many of those— mistakes . Moving to America hadn’t been a mistake. It allowed him to grow, and get stronger, away from the influence of his family and Deku. But not talking to Shouto? Not admitting to himself and to the pretty bastard that he actually meant something to him? 

He definitely drove to forget that. 

Katsuki hung his keys on the magnetic strip in his entryway, kicking off his leather shoes and padding past his expansive kitchen toward the floor-to-ceiling windows in his living room. 

The glittering lights of the city reflected off of Elliott Bay, and Katsuki watched in the silence of his apartment, his faint reflection staring back at him. 

He jolted when his phone rang out in the otherwise quiet apartment, and he pulled it from his inner pocket, snorting at Shitty Hair’s dumb picture and bringing it to his ear. 

“What’s up, dumbass?”

“Ah! Bakubro! I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake, the time difference always throws me off.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, Shitty Hair. And it’s only a seven hour difference.” 

Kirishima laughed into the speaker and Katsuki found himself smiling. It had been a while since they’d last spoken and he could admit that he missed all of his idiots. 

“So what did you need that you’re calling? Want to congratulate me?”

He hummed and then gasped, letting out a little victory woop. “Did you win again!? That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!”

“Tsk, ‘course I won.”

“I’m really sorry I forgot it was today. I guess you could say I’ve had a lot on my plate…”

His voice trailed off and he laughed nervously. 

“Is that so? What’s on your plate, Shitty Hair?”

“Well, you see… I kinda… how do I put this?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and headed toward the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water and setting his phone on the counter in speaker mode. 

“I left Fat’s agency.”

Katsuki scrunched his brows and tilted his head. “So who’s agency are you moving to? I thought you were liking it there.”

“Well, I was! Fat’s great, and it was fine… I’m just kinda… starting my own agency?”

Katsuki spit the drink he had been taking over his marble counter, coughing and patting his own chest. 

“Oh my god, man, what happened?”

“Shitty hair.”

“Are you okay?”

“Kirishima!”

The line went silent and Katsuki wiped his mouth, planting his palms on the counter and staring at the phone with narrowed eyes. 

“Why exactly are you calling me?”

“Well…”

“Spit it out!”

“Remember that favor? Graduation night...“

Katsuki’s eyes widened. 

No. 

“You said as long as I didn’t tell him, I could ask for any one thing. Well, I’m calling it in: I want you to start the agency with me.”

And even though it had been seven years since Katsuki had offered him the favor, they both knew he’d never go back on his word, which meant one thing:

Katsuki was moving back to Japan.

“Bro… did you just call me Katsuki?”

The large hands on his hips halted his ministrations and Shouto’s face glazed over with a blank look. 

“No.”

The guy under him snorted. “Uhh… really? Cause it sounded like you did.”

Shouto shifted on the cock buried inside of him, hoping futilely that they could go back to what they had been doing. “You’re imagining things. I said your name.”

The grip tightened and Shouto hissed, throwing a look over his shoulder at the nameless himbo. 

“My name doesn’t sound anything like Katsuki. Do you even remember it?”

Shouto turned back away, scowling at the wall. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten what to call the guy, more that he’d never listened for a name in the first place. 

“Of course I do,” he tried to bounce his hips again to distract the guy, but his hands held strong. 

Shit.

“It’s… you told me it was… wait, I remember—“

The guy shoved him off, throwing Shouto’s clothes at him. 

“Some fucking hero you are. I’m not having sex with someone just so they can turn away and imagine I’m someone else.”

Shouto shot him a venomous look, throwing on his outfit from the night before and grabbing his wallet and keys. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

“Just get out of my apartment...”

The morning sun was annoyingly bright, and Shouto threw on an oversized pair of shades, pointedly ignoring every person who recognized him as the number two hero in favor of power walking to the nearest cafe and ordering the largest black cold brew they would sell him. 

It was too late in the day to make it home before his patrol, so he sauntered into Endeavor’s agency and headed toward the showers, hoping to wash of the smell of sex and alcohol from the night before. 

He’d almost made it unnoticed, too, but for some god forsaken reason, it was as if Todoroki Enji had the supernatural ability to know his location at all times. 

“Shouto.”

Shouto turned around, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Dad.”

Enji’s eyes flickered from his glasses to his wrinkled outfit and then back up to his face. 

“Rough night?”

“I’ll be ready in time for patrol, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I was saying. I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, Shouto. Did you even go home last night?”

“I’m twenty five years old, you can stop worrying about me.” 

Aqua eyes flickered with something unreadable, and he rubbed his neck. “A new soba place opened up nearby. We could grab dinner later?”

“Can’t.” Enji’s hopeful look fell and Shouto sighed. “Kirishima invited a bunch of us out to dinner to announce something. Personally, I think he and Izuku stopped skirting around one another and finally fucked.”

“O-oh . ”

Dammit, he’s like a kicked puppy...

“The wedding is on Saturday, and we have the rehearsal dinner on Friday, so make the reservation for tomorrow night. We can go after patrol.” 

His face lit up and Shouto rolled his eyes. “Now can I go? I smell like cum.”

Shouto laughed when Enji went a shade of red to rival his hair, and he turned around toward the showers, quickly stripping and sliding down the wall of the nearest tiled alcove. 

The scalding water didn’t quite sting, but it was close. Shouto was pretty sure that someone without a fire quirk would be screaming and nursing burns, but it had become his preferred way to rid himself of the grime of a night out. 

He felt some of the evidence of last night’s activities trickle out of his sore hole and Shouto bit out a curse, wishing the nameless asshole had finished the job that morning. 

He wrapped a fist around his cock, stroking slowly and leaning his head back against the wall. He was not longer in the business of not getting to come during sex—that may have been okay for his high school self, who had fallen so madly in love with one Bakugou Katsuki that he would do anything to have even a portion of his attention—but he was an adult now, and damned if he wasn’t going to have a fucking orgasm. 

Shouto reached down between his legs, teasing his puffy entrance and dipping a finger inside to slick it with cum. He pulled it out and spread it around before inserting two fingers and stroking his cock more quickly. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that he wasn’t alone, that he had some lover there to sate his need—

On three, Shouto. 

Shouto gasped and shook his head, willing his inner fantasy to use a different voice, any other voice. 

What’s wrong? Don’t miss me? I’ll pick paper again, just for you.

“Fuck off— ah…”

Shouto’s body reacted to the deep rumble of Katsuki’s voice. He hadn’t heard it in person in almost seven years, but it had still been tattooed onto his brain like a hellish brand. 

Fuck, you look so good stretched on my fingers, I bet you want another one…

Shouto bit his lip and shook his head again, but added a third finger all the same, groaning and working them at an unsteady rhythm. 

That’s it, stroke yourself harder, like that. 

“H-ha, K-Kat—“

Saying my name again? I get that I was the best fuck you’ve ever had, but that extra didn’t seem too happy that you were moaning it like a whore while riding his cock.

Shouto snorted and curled his fingers. “D-don’t be g-getting a bigger head…”

You denying it, pretty boy? Just go ahead and keep pretending that you don’t think about me after all this time. 

“F-fuck you,” his hips stuttered and he tried to maintain his pace. “You’re the asshole that-that left without a word…”

Oh, baby...

Shouto whined and fucked his fingers into himself more forcefully, hoping to block out the voice in his head. 

I think about you too, you know, wrapped around me like a gorgeous little cocksleeve. Add another finger, Sho. Let me see you fall apart.

His head was spinning, his body flushing hot. Shouto wasn’t sure if it was from the boiling spray or the near painful stretch, but he did what he was told, thumbing his slit and working a fourth finger inside. 

He wished so badly that it was true, that Katsuki missed him. Hell, he wished the selfish fucker hadn’t left in the first place, but for now he’d allow himself this fantasy. 

Shouto came with Katsuki’s name on his lips, body shaking, his fingers slipping from his used hole and his release washing down the drain. 

He slid down the wall the rest of the way, lying in the centimeter of water on the shower floor and breathing out through his nose. 

“I’m pathetic…”

He didn’t mean it for anyone in particular. The shower was empty, filled only by the patter of water on skin and ceramic. 

Shouto wasn’t sure how he had tricked the world into believing he had his shit figured out. To everyone else, he was the number two hero—a shining beacon of hope, calm in the face of a storm. 

And maybe that was okay. As long as it reassured people, he could continue to emit that composed and admittedly fearsome image to the public, and in private he could have this: a too hot shower, a terrible hangover, and the crushing post-nut clarity that came from missing his not-quite-ex. 

“Bro, You made it!”

Kirishima stood up and patted him on the shoulder as he approached the table, and Shouto gave a small wave to his friends, pulling off his jacket and scarf and sliding into an empty seat. 

Sero leaned in close, pushing a cocktail his way and squeezing his arm. “I’m glad you came, Sho, it’s been a while since we’ve had time to just chill.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m always working.” 

Sero’s broad smile was genuine, and he titled his head a little. “Don’t be, it’s what makes you a good hero. I just wish you took more time for yourself, y’know?”

Shouto nodded and looked down at the drink, absentmindedly running his fingers over the cold surface. Izuku was sitting at the other end of the table next to Kirishima, and he beamed at Shouto from his seat. 

He was actually pretty shocked that it had taken this long for his two friends to realize their feelings for one another. Kirishima may have denied being gay back in Yuuei, but so had Kaminari, and he was currently sitting so close to his fiancé that he was almost in his lap, not that Shinsou minded. 

And Izuku? Needless to say, he and Kirishima were made of the same stuff: resolve, tenacity, and no small amount of sunshine. But regardless of what had finally brought them together, it had been a long time coming. 

Shouto was excited for them, really he was. He liked seeing his friends happy, it wasn’t their fault that he was always alone. 

Kirishima stood up, grabbing his beer. 

“So, I’m really glad all of you could join! I’ve got a bit of an announcement to make, and I wanted to tell everyone in person.”

Shouto and Sero exchanged a knowing look and grabbed their own drinks, readying themselves for the toast.

“I’m starting my own agency! And I’ve found a partner to run it with me!” He grinned down at Izuku conspiratorially, and a few people whistled suggestively. 

“Partner, sure…” Mina winked exaggeratedly and the table laughed, even Shouto couldn’t stop himself from snorting into his drink.

Kirishima’s brows furrowed and his head whipped around. “Why are you guys making it sexual, I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“It’s okay,” Shouto raised his voice to be heard over the giggles. “We’re happy for you and Izuku’s partnership. When should we expect the wedding invites?” 

Kirishima blanched and Izuku sputtered into his beer, grabbing a napkin to keep it from dripping down his chin and onto his limited edition All Might letterman. 

“B-bro, no-no! We’re not… it’s not—“

“Y-yeah, Shouchan, we’re just fr-friends…” Izuku’s eyes went a little sad and Shouto’s chest clenched for him. “Besides, I’m still running All Might’s old agency. I’m not the person Ei got!” 

“Well then who is it?” Shinsou spoke from beside Kaminari, and Kirishima lit back up at the question. 

It reminded Shouto of how excited he used to get at Yuuei, back when he’d get to spar with Kat—

Shouto stopped breathing, his grip tightening around the drink in his hand. 

“Bakubro’s moving back to Japan!” 

Everyone gasped, some cheered, and the glass in Shouto’s hand shattered. 

Chapter Text

“We’re preparing to land, sir.”

Katsuki pulled his headphones off, glaring at the flight attendant and shoving his tray back up as they shuffled away. 

Ten hour flights were not his forte, and he reminded himself why he had never come back to visit during his stint in America. He wasn’t in the business of confining himself to a pressurized aluminum tube in the sky, and like fuck was he going to sleep through it when there was so much that could go wrong. 

The flight had him traveling seven hours back and a day forward, and it was nearing eight in the morning, meaning that by the time they touched down in Japan, he was very jet lagged and very very tired. 

It certainly hadn’t helped that he’d spent the last two weeks in a frenzy of getting his shit together so that he could complete the whirlwind move back home.

Katsuki grabbed his carry-on bag and slung it over his shoulder, stepping off of the jet and cursing at how cold it was. There weren’t enough layers in the world to make him hate winter any less, but he still could have gone for a scarf at the moment.

He absentmindedly wondered how long it would take him to be accosted by familiar faces. Not many people knew of his return yet, so he was hoping to get settled in before—

“All Flight, for when you need to Go Beyond!” 

Deku’s dumb mug was staring at him from one of the large electronic airport screens, the ad playing on loop. 

Katsuki scoffed and rolled his eyes, finding the neighboring screen with arrivals and locating which baggage claim he needed. He had to shove his way through the crowds, ignoring the whispers of recognition as he shot straight toward customs. 

He flashed his hero license and security directed him to an express line where they pulled up his transfer documents and verified his identity—which was admittedly more convenient than waiting in the regular line. 

Hell, as long as he could get out of the airport without seeing anyone else from Yuuei, he’d be happy. 

Katsuki was released and handed back his papers, and he turned toward the baggage claims, pushing through a set of glass doors and immediately gaping at the even larger electronic screen that sat in front of him.

“From myself and everyone at the Hero Public Safety Commission, welcome to Japan.”

Katsuki stood frozen in front of the five meter tall screen, taking in the face of both the first and last person he wanted to see.

Shouto’s hair had grown more, and it was secured into a high ponytail that exposed his aristocratic cheekbones and strong jaw. 

Gone were any traces of the baby fat that still clung to him as a teenager, and his mismatched eyes held years worth of memories that Katsuki had missed.

He’d also traded that navy plumber’s excuse for a costume for a form-fitting black suit interwoven with veins of icy blue and fiery red that—given their placement—likely acted as temperature regulators, and the combined changes sent a jolt of something painful through him that Katsuki wasn’t sure he wanted to put a name to.

“BAKUBRO!”

Katsuki turned to the side just in time to be swept up in a crushing hug by the bastard who had dragged him back to Japan. 

Kirishima picked him up and Katsuki fought to squirm out of his hold, a feat that was unsuccessful given Red Riot’s infuriating fucking strength. 

“People are staring Shitty Hair!” He hissed. 

He finally set Katsuki down and beamed at him, fists resting on his hips in a manly pose.

“It’s so good to have you back, bro!”

“Tsk. Whatever.” 

Katsuki’s eyes flickered back to the screen, something that did not go unnoticed by Shitty Hair. 

“What are you…” Kirishima looked up. “Oh.”

Katsuki didn’t think he was ready for that conversation just yet, so he shoved past him, resuming his search for the baggage claim. 

“Bakubro,“ Kirishima chased after, catching up and falling into step. “This isn’t gonna be a problem is it? I didn’t recruit him for the agency, he’s still working with his dad.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got that look on your face.”

Katsuki stopped and turned. “What look?” He bit out.

Shitty Hair laughed nervously. “You know… the one that says you're on a mission and you’re not gonna stop till you win whatever you’ve decided the prize is.”

He snorted and resumed walking, leaving Kirishima to chase after him again.

“Bro, just—you’ve been back for like four minutes, please don’t do something stupid like stalk him.”

Katsuki came to a screeching halt in front of his claim. “Who the fuck said I was going to stalk him!?”

“Listen. I just don’t want to see—“

“I’m not gonna get hurt, asshole.”

“—either of you get hurt.” Kirishima shook his head and crossed his arms. 

“He’s my friend too, you know?” He let out a breath. “I just thought that after so long you’d be over it.”

“I am.”

“Like hell you are.”

Katsuki scowled and grabbed his suitcase as it came around, turning back in an annoyed little half circle. 

“There was nothing to get over! We fucked—” A woman nearby gasped and covered her child’s ears and Katsuki lowered his voice. 

“We fucked four times, and then graduation night happened and I was perfectly content with living out the rest of my career in America. You pulled me back here.”

“I don’t know, man. I know you, and I just think you’ve convinced yourself everything is fine and then here in two days I’ll pick up my phone and you’ll be trending on twitter for doing something dumb.”

“When do I ever do anything dumb, Shitty Hair?”

“You moved, didn’t you?”

“Low blow, asshole.”

“C’mon, just…” He exhaled and it sounded a tad defeated. “Nevermind. I’ve got a driver waiting to take you to your new place, then I have to bail to have lunch with Midobro.”

“Ugh, you and that damn nerd fucked yet?”

They headed toward the exit and Kirishima sputtered. “Wh-why does everyone keep asking that!?”

Katsuki didn’t even feel bad for turning the conversation around, and they fell into a comfortable conversation about everything that had changed as the driver took them to his apartment. 

The tall building sat in a central location within the city, not too far from where the new agency was located, which explained the price tag. Katsuki’s place was on one of the uppermost floors, not quite the penthouse, but the elevator ride was lengthy enough, and Kirishima rambled about his ideas for their venture.

“So you plannin’ on showing me this dump you bought?”

Shitty Hair followed him down the hall and handed him the keys. 

“Nah, take a rest day man. You deserve it. Go see your parents, sleep, whatever.” 

He clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got a thing tomorrow afternoon, but if you meet me at my place at 7, we should have enough time for a full tour beforehand. I’ll send you my address.”

“Sure, whatever Shitty Hair. Tell the shit nerd I said to stay away from me till I’ve had a nap.”

Kirishima laughed and smiled broadly, sharp teeth doing very little to detract from his sunny disposition.

“I’ll tell him you missed him. It’s good to have you back, bro.”

Katsuki snorted and waved him away, unlocking the door to his new apartment and throwing his suitcase down in the entryway. 

It was decent enough for such short notice, the Spartan interior suiting his minimalistic tastes. Deku had said as much when he’d helped him to secure the place, and while Katsuki hated to admit it, the nerd had done his job well. 

Katsuki had traded his bay view for one of the ever bustling city, and he looked out at the glittering behemoths of glass and steel, willing the fact that he was back in Musutafu to sink in. 

The shiver he’d been suppressing since landing finally rattled through his body, and he shrugged off his leather jacket to go search for the bathroom which—much to his relief—was equipped with a low rectangular tub and had already been stocked with a variety of soaps. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes at Deku’s methodical planning, but took full advantage of the setup, quickly turning the tap to just shy of scalding and stripping fully. 

The contrast of hot water on his chilled skin caused him to hiss out a curse, but he continued lowering himself into the tub, letting his limbs tingle and ache as his blood vessels dilated and the nitroglycerin in his sweat thawed. 

He had always hated the cold with the burning, flaming passion of a thousand suns, but his hatred came with the knowledge that baths were his preferred way to warm up. 

Katsuki flicked open a green bottle of shampoo, inhaling and scrunching his brows. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Not terrible, I guess...”

He grabbed the matching bottle of conditioner next, and popped the cap before immediately cursing whatever sadistic fucking fates had decided that scent, emotion, and memory should be connected in the brain, because that was obviously a big fucking mistake.

The heady and overwhelming combination of rosemary and mint slammed into him like a punch to the gut, and his mind’s eye supplied him with a very vivid, very lewd vision of Shouto pinned under him. 

“FUCKING DEKU!” 

Katsuki closed the bottle and tossed it across the room, ready to strangle the damn nerd for stocking his bath with the shit Shouto used to use back at Yuuei.

Or does he still use it?

Crimson eyes flickered over to the conditioner on the floor, and he shook his head vehemently.

“Nope. No way. You just got back, don’t even fucking think about it you goddamn masochist.”

Of course, his body didn’t quite feel like listening to his mouth, because he was crawling out of the tub and fetching the discarded bottle before he could stop it. 

He slid back into the tub with a little huff, making a mental note to clean the water up off of the floor later. 

Katsuki stared at the conditioner for an uncomfortable amount of time before opening it again and inhaling tentatively. 

This time he forced his eyes to stay open to prevent another vision, but it did not keep his cock from twitching in interest. 

“You’re not going to masturbate in a tub like a damn preteen to the smell of your high school fuck buddy.”

The command was issued to his hand—which he had full control over—but he still felt as though it needed to be voiced. 

He took another smell, finally allowing his eyelids to flutter closed as he relaxed further into the tub.

On three, Katsuki. 

Katsuki jolted bodily, eyes flying open. 

He was still alone in the bathroom, the water sloshing and flirting with the edge of the tub. 

He glanced at the open bottle warily, brows furrowing. There was no way he was that jet lagged that Shouto’s voice would be so clear in his mind after years, but Katsuki’s urge to see him again overwhelmed all reason. 

He squeezed the bottle to expel more fragrance and breathed in through his nose, trying to focus on graduation and the last time they’d seen one another. 

Don’t even get me started on graduation, Blasty.

Shouto wasn’t in the room with him, but if he closed his eyes and settled into the steaming water, he could almost imagine that he was. 

Except it wasn’t the Shouto from Yuuei that was now lounging at the other end of the tub, foot sliding languidly up Katsuki’s leg toward his groin. It was now the newer version of him, the one with longer hair and sharper features whose face had stared through him from an airport screen. 

Shouto smiled and it was more feline than innocent, tilting his head and leaning forward in the tub. 

Imagining things now, are we? 

Katsuki kept his eyes firmly closed, intent on staying in the fantasy. His lips felt heavy and his tongue was dry, and for a moment he was content to just stare, to bask in the presence of his most prominent ‘what if?’

“It-It’s been awhile.”

That’s putting it mildly, don’t you think?  

He batted his pretty, mismatched eyes, and it was like their first time all over again, Katsuki blinking dumbly across from him. 

Did you miss me while you were away? 

“Tsk. You wish, Peppermint.”

Katsuki… 

Shouto clicked his tongue and slid forward, pouring himself into Katsuki’s lap. 

“Fine. You wish, Shouto.” 

That’s better. 

He smiled and brushed a lock of steam dampened hair off of Katsuki’s forehead. 

Are we going to play now? Or drop the pretenses? You know I’ll just pick scissors...

Katsuki huffed out a laugh, letting one hand settle on Shouto’s waist and using the other to cup his jaw. 

“No more pretenses, pretty boy.”

Their lips came together and it finally sunk in that Katsuki was home. He pulled Shouto in closer, sliding his hands up to tangle in mismatched hair. 

Shouto gasped and flicked his tongue against the seam of his lips, and Katsuki let them part, inviting him inside and rocking their hips together. 

Shouto was riding him now—when had that happened? But it didn’t matter because it was Katsuki’s fantasy and the only thing that mattered was that Shouto was bouncing on his cock, sucking him in and holding him there as the water splashed out of the tub and onto the floor. 

“F-fuck, I missed you…”

I missed you too… not a day went by that I didn’t regret not telling you how I felt. 

Katsuki’s chest ached and he held onto Shouto tighter, fucking up into his scalding heat and burying his face in his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Shouto, fuck I’m so—“

Katsuki’s body slipped against the ceramic tub and he slid down into the water, eyes flying open. He surfaced and gasped like a drowning man, wiping his face and grabbing the bottle of conditioner again.

“No! Fuck!” 

His cock was still painfully hard and he inhaled deeply, clamping his eyes shut and willing Shouto to return. But of course, several minutes passed to no avail, and he groaned miserably, knowing that the shock of being dunked had ruined his perfect fantasy. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to finish masturbating, so he grabbed a towel and dried off before fetching a clean set of clothes from his bag. 

It was still relatively early in the day, and he didn’t have any plans set, so he plopped down on the low couch, looking out at the city with every intent of relaxing. 

Katsuki made it approximately twenty-seven minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore. 

His Acura wouldn’t be arriving in Japan for another week, and there was no way he was going to be caught dead on public transportation, so he did a quick search for the closest dealer of import cars and paid cash for a Ferrari 812 Superfast in his signature shade of orange. 

It felt good to be behind the wheel again, and although he’d learned to drive in America, the shifters were conveniently located on the steering wheel, which simplified the transition to a right hand drive. 

It wasn’t necessarily the type of car one wanted to drive in the city—with its hair trigger steering and tight suspension—but he was able to waste a few hours in a neighboring prefecture, driving along curving mountain roads and opening it up on the straightaways.

The unique purr of the powerful engine had him giddy by the time he made it back to Musutafu, and Katsuki headed to one of his old favorite restaurants where he knew he could get a generous portion of spicy tofu, even if it meant dealing with a talkative server. 

“It’s wonderful to have you here, sir! I can’t believe we have the honor of hosting the number one hero in America the same week we hosted three of the top five Japanese heroes!”

Katsuki took his seat and squinted up at the guy. “Which three?”

His face went red like he hadn’t been expected to be acknowledged. “Well Mr. Dynamight, sir. Just two days ago the number five hero, Red Riot, hosted a dinner party here. Many heroes were in attendance, including the number one, Deku, and his close second, Shouto.”

Katsuki’s stomach did a strange flip and he dug his nails into his palms to distract himself from recalling his earlier fantasy. 

Now is not the fucking time for a boner!

“How’d that go? The place is still here so I’m guessing those heathens weren’t too bad.”

“Oh no, Sir, they were wonderful, and the glass cleanup was a small price to pay to see… him.” 

His face flushed again and he looked away. 

“Tsk. That damned Deku’s nothin’ special.”

“Oh-oh, no. I—don’t get me wrong, I love Deku, he’s a wonderful symbol, but I… well, Hero Shouto is so popular on social media, it’s just different seeing him in person.”

Something poisonous coiled low in Katsuki’s gut and he grit out his order angrily enough that the server had taken to responding with shaky nods rather than verbal answers.

It wasn’t like Shitty Hair’s words from earlier weren’t fresh in his mind, but still, as soon as the server was gone, Katsuki did something he’d told himself he’d never do…

He googled Shouto’s name. 

Popular—as it turned out—didn’t quite begin to cover Halfie’s social media presence. 

His Twitter alone had over fifteen million followers. And it wasn’t even like he posted constantly, but every single photo was littered with likes and comments. 

Of course there was the occasional article spreading shit about NDAs and secret sexual escapades, but every hero dealt with those rumors, and there were no shortage of fans willing to come to his defense. 

Because somewhere in the last seven years, Shouto had managed to become a national fucking treasure. 

Katsuki knew it was probably unhealthy, but he kept his phone open throughout dinner, scrolling through post after post on instagram.

He’d heard that saying before, about a picture being worth a thousand words, but there were only a select few that flashed through his mind as he took in photos of Shouto all over the city—smiling, laughing, thinking, eating, lounging at home.

For all the world, Shouto looked happy. He looked like he hadn’t thought of Katsuki in years, like he was just another bump in the road of his life. Except maybe Katsuki had never been a bump at all, more like a dust mote floating through the air, landing—for the sweetest and briefest of moments—on Shouto’s shoulder, only to be brushed off.

And that stung on some fundamental level. Because obviously Katsuki was over him, he wasn’t some love sick teenager, but it was almost like he’d never made any permanent mark on him at all, only those fleeting purple bruises and temporary love bites of their few short weeks.

Katsuki paid for dinner and slid back into his car, finding himself driving to a nearby park, one that he’d recognized from Shouto’s pictures. 

He ignored the bitter cold of the evening and glanced back and forth between the benches, trying to work out which one Shouto had been sitting on in the most recent post there. It was hard to tell without the cherry blossoms in full bloom, but he managed it, and he plopped down in the same location, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them.

He tried to think about him there in the spring, a paper cup of coffee in his hands and a healthy flush to his cheeks as he snapped a picture of himself—

Wait.

Katsuki pulled his phone out and scrolled through the images he’d saved, and Kirishima could go fuck himself, because this still didn’t count as stalking, but he was looking for any and all clues. 

Because the thing he’d missed—that was now glaringly obvious—was that Shouto had taken none of the photos himself. Even the ones where he was presumably at home, curled in a blanket with a well read book in his hands, someone else was still behind the camera.

Was it a girlfriend? A boyfriend? Fiancé? Did Shouto have an arrangement with someone else? Someone who spared no opportunity to capture his beauty?

Katsuki cursed and paced back and forth, noticing all the things he hadn’t before, like the fondness of his smile and the pink dusting his cheeks. 

He drove from the park to a soba shop further south. Shouto had checked in there a few days prior, and Katsuki waited outside with no luck until they were flicking the open sign off and locking the doors for the night. 

From there, the pictures showed another park, then a movie theater, and a karaoke bar, and by the time Katsuki realized that this definitely counted as stalking, it was nearing four in the morning.

He was more tired now than he had been, which was fucking saying something, but he knew his mind well enough to know that he’d be getting no sleep if he went home.

So Katsuki drove to the Izu Peninsula, seeking the Jogasaki Coast where he could hike to the cliff's edge and think, as the first light of day came peeking up over the horizon. 

He had technically spent all night looking, but Shouto was nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t help but feel that the chaos of the city was a greater distance between them than the ocean had ever been. 

It was strange to think that a day earlier he had been at the other side of the Pacific, the sun setting on the chapter of his life in America. 

The chilly predawn wind whistled through the trees as waves broke over the rock face, and Katsuki braved the creaking suspension bridge as he braved any other danger in his life. 

(Besides feelings, but he’d forgive his teenage self that fleeting moment of cowardice.)

He could feel the rhythmic movement beneath his feet that reminded him of youthful trysts in long forgotten alleyways and words left unsaid. The jagged volcanic cliffs stood in monolithic contrast to the pastel sky and foaming waves, and Katsuki closed his eyes—breathing in the sharp February air. There in the stillness of dawn, he allowed himself the time to breathe and to exist, free from the questionable turns on the roadmap of his life.

Katsuki didn’t even look at his phone again until it was almost ten in the morning, and the text message from Shitty Hair asking where he was reminded him of their plans. 

He took one last look at the ocean before begrudgingly walking back to his car and making the drive to Kirishima’s place. He could hear noise from behind the door, and he knocked a few times before the familiar voice called out that it was unlocked.

The apartment wasn’t the largest, but it was well lived in, and his eyes instinctively flicked to the photos on the walls before landing on Shitty Hair, whose hair was...well, not shitty. 

His red spikes were slicked back into a simple and classic style, and he was fumbling with the buttons on a crisp white shirt, darting around his apartment in a small frenzy. 

“What lit a fire under your ass?”

His eyes snapped up at Katsuki and he huffed in a very uncharacteristic manner. 

“You were supposed to be here five hours ago! Where were you?”

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Lost track of time.”

“I told you I had to be somewhere,” he grabbed a slim burgundy tie from where it hung over a chair and slung it around his neck. “Shouto’s gonna kill me...” 

Katsuki’s breath caught. “Wait, what?”

“I’m the worst friend alive, I promised him I’d make it to the wedding and now I only have thirty minutes to get to the venue.” 

“What wedding!?”

Kirishima threw an invitation at him and Katsuki swore time stopped as he looked down at the delicate scrawl.

‘The Todoroki Family Invites you to join them in celebrating the wedding of—‘

Katsuki scrambled to flip the card, ignoring everything else in his search for the venue address and then blowing past a yelling Kirishima.

Because even as sleep deprived as he was, two things had still managed to process in his mind:

Shouto was getting married, and Katsuki had to stop it.

Katsuki was driving again. 

He didn’t really have an idea of how he’d made it from Kirishima’s apartment and onto the road, but the steering wheel vibrated under his fingertips and he flicked the paddles to shift another gear. 

The roar of the engine was muffled by his heartbeat in his ears, and he swerved around another car, blowing a stoplight and praying to whatever god was listening that there were no cops around. 

His eyes caught a glimpse of the intricate sign reading ‘Todoroki Wedding’ and he veered sharply to the right, racing down a long drive lined with peonies and plum blossoms. 

It wasn’t even the type of place he would have expected Shouto to want to get married at, and he didn’t know why the idea made him so mad. 

He left the car running out front and sprinted through the maze of garden paths and alcoves, sucking in scorching lungfuls of winter air and trying to listen for any signs of a ceremony.

“..Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

It came muffled through the surrounding trees and Katsuki gasped, turning toward the voice and running on pure adrenaline, which in hindsight was not his best fucking idea, but he was tired, okay?

Katsuki burst into the garden alcove in a breathless flurry, lips forming a booming protest before he could stop it. 

“WAIT!” 

There were no walls, but his voice still seemed to echo off of the winter blooming flora, causing all of the guests and the entire wedding party to turn and gape at him in shock. 

There, standing on the steps of the altar, was Shouto—mismatched eyes wide and two toned hair dancing around his shoulders in the chilly breeze. 

Time seemed to stop, and Katsuki was only aware of the two of them, making eye contact across a span of just twenty meters. 

It was like eternities had passed since they’d last seen one another, and Katsuki couldn’t help but think that Shouto was more beautiful than the bride, his toned body clad in an impressively trailored suit and his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink. 

But that realization sparked another, more startling one. Because Shouto was also more beautiful than the groom, who was standing several paces away, fingers interlocked with his soon to be wife. 

Fuck. 

Shouto wasn’t the one getting married. 

Natsuo was. 

Chapter Text

62 hours before Katsuki’s colossal fuck up

“Keep it elevated Shouchan! Keep it elevated!”

“It’s not that bad—“

“Where’s the first aid kit bro?!”

“I said it’s not that—“

“Bathroom! First door on the right!”

“You’re all making a bigger deal—“

Sero shoved him down onto the sofa and Shouto huffed, watching Kirishima and Izuku run around in search of wipes and gauze. 

Sero went to help them, and the three came barreling out of the bathroom with the first aid kit in hand, ignoring Shouto’s protests and fussing over him like he wasn’t a grown ass adult. 

“Take the napkin off of it, let us have a look.”

Shouto rolled his eyes at Izuku but extended his hand all the same, letting Kirishima remove the no-longer-so-white cloth from his bleeding hand. He’d definitely have to send some kind of compensation to the restaurant for the glass and for pilfering the napkin. 

“Sero, grab me some tweezers, I think there’s still some glass in here…”

“There is not—MOTHERFUCKER!”

Izuku prodded at his palm and Shouto swore, trying to jerk his hand away to no avail. Izuku was the much stronger of the two, and his hold on Shouto’s wrist didn’t even budge. 

“Hold still, Todobro, we’re just trying to help.” 

Shouto glared at Kirishima, and Sero came back with the tweezers, handing them to Izuku before plopping down next to Shouto on the couch. 

“We wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t shatter that glass, man. What were you thinking?”

He’s moving back…

“I wasn’t.”

He winced when Izuku pulled out several small shards of glass, and then grit his teeth as his cuts were methodically cleaned and bandaged. 

“This will work for now, but you should go see Recovery Girl before your patrol tomorrow.” 

“Sure, whatever.”

Izuku flicked him on the nose. 

“Don’t be like that, Shouchan.”

Shouto scrunched his face up and fought the urge to sneeze, which earned him the sound of a camera shutter.

“ Sero Hanta, I’m giving you one chance to delete that.” 

“No can do,” he snickered behind his phone and took another picture of Shouto’s angry face. “This one’s going on the gram for sure.” 

“Get those photos anywhere near social media and we’ll see what happens to your precious phone—“

Shouto tried to lunge off of the couch but Kirishima caught him and laughed. 

“Calm down man, I didn’t think I’d have to deal with any property damage till Bakubro gets in Friday morning.”

Shouto froze and slipped out of his hold, falling onto the floor and groaning. 

“Ow…”

There was another sound of a picture being taken, and Sero whistled. “Damn, you’re on a roll tonight.” 

“Come on, leave him alone,” Deku admonished them and helped him up, gently shoving him back into the cushions and draping a blanket over him. “I’ll make some tea.”

Shouto nodded and glared at Sero, who only laughed and put his phone away.

“So, Friday? That’s… soon.” 

Kirishima nodded. 

“Yeah I gotta pick him up at the airport and show him his new place. Hey Midobro, please tell me it's ready for him to move in. I don’t think I’ll have time after patrol tomorrow to stock his kitchen and buy sheets for the bed.”

Izuku came around the corner holding a steaming cup and nodded.

“Yep, I finished everything this morning. I even stocked his bathroom.”

Kirishima gave him a little love struck smile and Shouto rolled his eyes at the fact that they weren’t dating already.

“You think of everything, that’s super manly!”

Izuku blushed and sputtered out his gratitude, and Shouto grabbed the tea and kicked them out of the apartment under the guise of wanting rest.

“Hey man, you sure you’re good?”

Sero stepped out of the kitchen with his own cup of tea and frowned. His brows pinched in concern. 

“I know this Bakugou stuff—“

“I’m fine. I,” he took a breath. “Seriously. I’ll be good.”

“If you're sure…” Sero bit his lip and stared down at his cup. 

“Just make sure you don’t—what I mean is, you already work too much. If you threw yourself into work more, I don’t…” Sero cleared his throat. “Just, please take care of yourself.”

“Received and understood.” 

Sero snorted. “But not guaranteed, right?”

Shouto got back up from the couch to pat his shoulder.

“I make no promises… and also if you don’t delete those photos I’m coming for you.”

He gasped in offense and laughed. “Hey, not very heroic of you, Mr. Number Two Hero.”

Shouto rolled his eyes and headed toward his room. “Just remember, Hanta, I know where you live.”

Once he was safely in his room, Shouto slid down the closed door, pulling his knees in close to his chest and resting his forehead against his crossed arms. 

Friday. It didn’t quite feel real. 

Katsuki had been gone for almost seven years—a full 2,493 days, not that Shouto was counting —and just like that he was coming back. 

Of course he shouldn’t have expected advanced notice. Shouto wasn’t given any when Katsuki had moved in the first place. And who were they to each other anymore, anyway? A hazy and alarmingly brief series of memories that held no weight when compared to the chaos that was their high school experience? 

His bandaged hand twinged with pain, and he made a mental note to visit Recovery Girl first thing in the morning before undressing and crawling into bed. 

Although, with his mind full of memories and his bed empty, there was no way he was falling asleep, and by the time his five thirty alarm rang, he was no closer to drifting off than he had been when he laid down. 

But he was a hero, a responsible hero, and so he forced himself up for the day—hoping beyond all hope that it was an easy patrol.

43 hours until the most embarrassing moment of Katsuki’s life

“Please tell me there’s no paperwork…”

Shouto dragged his feet toward his father’s desk, and Enji looked up from the document he was signing. 

“I just finished the last of it. I see it was an eventful patrol.” 

He motioned toward the stack of files and Shouto groaned before plopping down into a chair. 

“That’s an egregious understatement.” 

“Well, there were no civilian injuries, and you kept the property damage to a minimum, which makes my job easier. I’m expecting some good publicity from the fish market arrest. Have you seen the photos yet?”

Shouto’s stomach growled loudly at the mention of food and he groaned, sinking further into the chair. “Ugh, please tell me we’re still getting soba...”

“Of course we are,” Enji scooted his chair back and grabbed his jacket. “Our reservation is in an hour. I suggest you shower quickly.” 

Shouto sighed and dragged himself out of the office, getting ready to leave in record time.

The elevator dinged and he stepped out onto the ground floor, honing in on his father’s imposing form instantly. 

Enji had been retired from hero work for several years, but he continued to run the agency. Shouto was just thankful that he had someone to handle all of the mundane paperwork and phone calls that came from each villain encounter. Otherwise he’d be sitting for at least another two hours wading through the monotony of forms and statements. 

“You’re buying.”

Enji turned from his spot in the lobby, huffing out a laugh. 

“I always buy, don’t I?”

Shouto smirked. “Just making sure, old man.”

The drive to the new restaurant was quick, and Shouto was privately excited that he had a potentially good soba place so close to the agency. 

The atmosphere was nice as well, and the staff were pleasant. It would almost have been perfect if not for Enji and his exhausting supportive prodding. 

“Okay, what’s wrong, Shouto?” 

Shouto hummed in question and took a sip of water.

“Don’t give me that. You’re thinking about something, I can tell.” 

“It’s nothing.”

He scowled. “It’s something.”

“Fine, it’s something, but it’s stupid,” Shouto crossed his arms. 

“I highly doubt that’s the case.” 

He rolled his eyes, somehow feeling eighteen again, having another petty argument with his father over dinner. 

Enji’s face was set with resolve, and Shouto could tell he wasn’t going to drop it.

Goddammit. 

“Fine…” he signed in resignation. “Bakugou is moving back.”

Red brows slowly raised toward his hairline. “Bakugou, as in—“

“Yep.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh.”

Enji waved down their server. “A bottle of sake, for the table.”

The server nodded and shuffled away quickly, and Enji turned back toward Shouto, looking much more uncomfortable than before. 

“Shouto, I—“

“Please don’t.”

“No, I need to apologize. I never would have referred him to that American agency if I had known—“

Shouto scowled and leaned forward. “I told you then, and I’m telling you again now: you offered him the transfer, you didn’t force him to take it.” 

“I know, but—“

“But nothing,” Shouto cut him off again. “Leaving was on him.”

Enji looked like he wanted to continue protesting, but he closed his mouth and nodded. “So… he’s moving back. Is that not a good thing?”

“I told you, I’m just being stupid.” 

“If you’re upset, then it’s not stupid.” 

The server brought them the bottle of sake with two small cups, setting them down and bowing slightly before walking away. 

“Stop parroting your therapist. Also, I’m not sure this,” he motioned toward the bottle. “Is a good idea.”

“I’m allowed to parrot my therapist when it’s true, Shouto. And this wouldn’t have anything to do with why you went to see Recovery Girl this morning, would it?”

Shouto blinked. 

“No… that was from patrol.”

“You went before patrol. Try again.”

Fuck. 

“I tripped on the way to work.”

“Mhmm. I believe you.” His tone said he most certainly did not believe him. 

Shouto grabbed the bottle and poured them each a shot. “I meant it’s not a good idea because Hana will kill me if I show up to the wedding with eyebags.”

Enji laughed and took his shot, shuddering slightly and pouring himself another. “Scared of your soon to be sister-in-law?” 

“Yes, I am. You should be too.”

Shouto grabbed his own glass and downed it, motioning for his father to refill it. 

“I never said I wasn't. And the wedding isn’t till the day after tomorrow, just don’t drink during the rehearsal dinner and you’ll be fine.” 

Shouto let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. Our family all in a room together and you expect me not to drink?”

“Fair point well made.”

The server brought them their food and Shouto thanked them as an afterthought, already digging into the bed of cold noodles and nearly moaning. 

“So what are you going to do?”

Shouto hummed around his mouthful of soba, slurping loudly and tilting his head. 

“I’m talking about Bakugou. What are you going to do when he gets back to Japan?”

Oh. That. 

Shouto finished his bite and poured them each another shot. 

“I’m going to do what any sane, rational, and mature adult would do.”

They raised their cups in unison and Shouto clinked them together like a toast. 

“I’m going to avoid him like the plague,” Shouto downed the sake in one swallow. “It’s called self care.”

Yeah, here in 3 hours Katsuki’s gonna embody idiocy

“Please don’t talk to me right now.” 

“Ah, come on, gonna be like that towards your big bro on his wedding day?” 

Natsuo smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, and Shouto winced, rubbing his temples as they navigated the garden maze to the main building. 

“I told you that that second glass of wine at dinner was a bad idea, Sho.”

“The wine wasn’t the problem. It was very much the solution to dealing with Hawks flirting with everyone in the family. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t called himself a Todosexual and told Hana he was excited for her to be part of the family.”

Natsuo laughed. 

“That’s just how he is. And if it wasn’t the wine then please don’t tell me you’re gonna have to have that flaming garbage can keep another sex scandal of yours quiet. You can’t keep owing him, and it’s his fault in the first place that you’re not out to the public.”

Shouto glared at him and swatted Natsuo’s hand off of his shoulder. 

“If I wanted the public to know I was gay, I would have told them, he has nothing to do with that.”

“Fine...” Natsuo was chewing on his bottom lip, his pale brows scrunched. “But still, who was it this time? Some rando from a club that you picked up on the way home from the rehearsal dinner?”

Shouto rolled his eyes—which happened to be a mistake with his splitting headache—and they paused outside of the entrance, turning toward one another before facing the chaos of the impending wedding.

“No. And I’m frankly hurt you would think that of me.”

“So then why are you hungover?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Most people count sheep, not shots, Sho.”

“Bold of you to assume I counted them.” 

Natsuo snorted and opened the door, heading toward the groom’s dressing quarters, and Shouto followed him.

“Nope, you’re the other way. Hana’s gonna want those dark circles taken care of—hey, don’t give me that look! You brought this on yourself! Now shoo, they have all the makeup down there.”

“Seriously?”

He leveled Shouto with a look that said he was definitely being serious, and Shouto groaned before turning and heading for the bride’s room.

“Todoroki Shouto! What did I say!?”

As soon as he opened the door he was accosted and thrown into a chair.

“I want the pictures to look nice,” Hana whined. “Do you have any idea how much concealer this is going to take?”

Shouto hissed and shielded his face from the bright lights of the vanity, and Fuyumi patted his shoulder gently, grabbing some pain pills and water. 

“Rough night, Sho?”

Shouto accepted the offering gratefully, and before long he was resignedly letting them paint his face with whatever they deemed necessary.

Hana was still wearing a silk robe, not yet in her ridiculously expensive gown, but her hair and makeup had already been done up to her perfectionistic standards.

“So is my new baby brother going to tell me why he decided to show up to my wedding looking like a rice ball that someone dropped on the floor?”

Ouch. 

He huffed a stray lock of hair out of his face and Fuyumi grabbed another pin to keep it at bay. 

“I thought brides were supposed to want everyone to look bad at their wedding, doesn’t that make them look better?”

She gasped and swatted him. “That’s only for the bridesmaids! And that’s assuming I need any help looking gorgeous.”

He snorted but otherwise remained quiet, letting them move from his makeup to his hair, and by the time he spoke again, they were working on the ‘ finishing touches.’

“I drank too much because my ex b—um, ex something flew back in yesterday after being gone for seven years.”

Hana and Fuyumi exchanged a look.

“Well that’s a good thing, right?” Hana smirked. “It means you can show him how amazing you're doing and how gorgeous you are and that you’ve completely moved on. Make him feel like an afterthought, like—“

“I still moan his name during sex sometimes…”

Her face fell. 

“Goddammit Sho... I did hear you correctly that it’s been seven years, right?”

He nodded miserably. “You can say it. I’m pathetic.”

Fuyumi’s eyes were soft and she rubbed his head carefully to keep their work intact. “You’re not pathetic, Shouto. This person obviously meant a lot to you.”

Hana nodded in agreement. “Have you talked with him since he got back?”

“No… I was kinda planning on ignoring and evading.”

Fuyumi breathed out a little laugh and Hana shook her head, pulling him into a hug and then stepping away so he could take in their handiwork in the mirror. 

Shouto’s hair was cascading over his shoulders in shiny waves and the circles under his eyes were long gone. The medicine had started to do its job, a healthy rush of color returning to his face, and Shouto wondered what they had used on his eyes to make them stand out so brilliantly against his skin.

“Well fuck… maybe you were right,” Hana cocked her hip and tapped her chin. “No one prettier than the bride should extend to the groomsmen too.”

‘Shut up,” he snorted and rolled his eyes. 

Rei and the bridesmaids returned from whatever errand they had been sent on, and Shouto was once again shooed out, but this time he was feeling lighter on his feet. 

He still had to deal with Katsuki returning—there was no way he could hide forever—but for now he was content to push it out of his mind, focusing instead on his brother and the wedding.

And if he wanted to brood and sulk and lament the fact that Katsuki had left before Shouto could confess that night… well, there would be plenty of time for it.

After all, Katsuki had only been back a day.

Present

Wow he really did it. That absolute madman.

“WAIT!”

Shouto flinched.

Years of hero work had driven into his muscles a specific set of responses to certain stimuli, but nothing in his training could have prepared him for this.

Katsuki was standing at the entrance of the garden alcove—hunched over, panting, eyes wild and rimmed, his face twisted into a look of… awe? Shock? Realization?

Shouto didn’t know him well enough to tell anymore. All he knew was that Katsuki was here, and it was his brother’s wedding, and the absolute malevolence that Hana was radiating was palpable.

He stumbled forward and down a step. Katsuki was looking at him; Shouto’s chest was uncomfortably tight. 

There was so much he wanted to say, so much there was to say, but it was all he could do to lift a shaking hand and point behind Katsuki, toward the exit.

Red eyes flickered, and he turned, looking to where Shouto was pointing, and with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, Katsuki held his hands up in surrender, and backed out of the garden without a word.

And maybe it was the shock—or the guests were all too polite—because no one uttered a sound, and the rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch; not that the ringing in Shouto’s ears let him hear any of it. 

“Sho, are you okay?”

He jumped and turned toward the happy couple who were giving him concerned looks. The guests had been led into the reception area, the wedding party staying behind for photos. 

He hadn’t noticed.

“I… yeah. C-congratulations, you two.”

He tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure if his lips moved.

“Darling, give me a moment with your brother, won't you?” Hana batted her eyes prettily and Natsuo nodded, leaving them alone to go speak with the photographer.

“Let me guess… that was your ex something?” 

Shouto ran his hands through his hair and resisted the urge to pull it out. 

“Mmhmm.”

She sighed heavily and looked up at the sky like she was preparing herself to say something absolutely ridiculous.

“Well, if he’s smart, he’ll leave Japan again to avoid my wrath. But something tells me he is not, in fact, smart.”

Shouto laughed but it was more of a nose exhale as he nodded his agreement.

“Go.”

“Wait, what? What are you—“

She cocked a brow and crossed her arms, leveling him with an unimpressed glare. 

“Go after him.”

His breath caught in his throat, wind whistling through the garden and tossing his hair about. Shouto’s pulse sped at the mere thought, childish fantasies of romanticism and longing and rock—paper—fucking scissors flooding his veins like sunrise. 

But life was often unkind and came with shit timing, and there was no way he could go after Katsuki then of all moments. 

“I-I can’t just… and the wedding… and there are pictures—“

“Listen, Shouto,” Hana was craning her neck to look up at him, something serious in her eyes. “You’re in love with him, right?”

His lips parted and he blinked, but he couldn't for the life of him force himself to contradict her.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I… it doesn’t matter how I feel,” Shouto dug his nails into his palms, feeling a knot forming in his throat. “Whatever is left between us… I still don’t know if I can ever forgive him for leaving.”

She smiled, sparing a brief glance toward her new husband who was laughing at something Hawks had said. When Hana turned back the smile was still there, but it was softer, a little sad.

“You’ll never know—you’ll never let anyone else in—if you don’t at least try… so go, I’m giving you a pass.”

Shouto’s feet shifted. He really wanted to go. 

“What about the pictures?”

“Ehh, we’ll just guilt Enji into hiring that insanely expensive image editor whose quirk lets them add anyone to photos,” she said with a shrug. 

Shouto found his eyes flickering to the alcove entrance, his bottom lip stinging from being pulled between his teeth.

“Just go!”

Shouto jolted a little and then nodded, taking one last look at his new sister. 

He was happy for Natsuo. He was scared, of course, because there was no way Hana fully understood what she was getting herself into with their fucked up family, but there was a resolve there. He didn’t know if it came from being born quirkless in a world of the extraordinary, or if she’d faced the darkness before; either way, he had hope for them.

“Oh, and Shouto?” She smirked and crossed her arms again. “If you don’t punch the shit out of him, I will.”

Oh yeah. She’s going to make it in this family just fine.

Running, Shouto thought, reminded him of Katsuki.

A lot of things reminded him of Katsuki, actually. 

The smell of smoke, the smell of caramel. Explosions, sunsets, the color orange. There was anger and longing and sex. 

But running? 

He could almost feel the phantom heat from Katsuki’s fingers tangled with his own. The garden paths weren’t at all the same as the city, and they were a little older, and there was no alley at the end of the maze, but nostalgia didn’t care for such trivial differences.

Katsuki was leaning against an ostentatious car; his hair was a mess, he was a mess. He was talking with Kirishima and they both turned, noticing Shouto and going quiet as if caught in the middle of an argument that they didn’t want him to hear.

“Todobro, I…” Kirishima’s eyes darted from Katsuki to Shouto. “I’m sorry I was late, I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s okay.” Shouto cut him off. “C-could you do me a favor, though? Um… they’re about to take pictures… would you stand in for me? It’ll make editing the photos easier.”

Kirishima nodded emphatically. “Yeah! Absolutely! I’m sorry, again, please don’t be mad!” 

Shouto went to say he wasn’t mad, but Kirishima was already rushing past him and into the garden, which just left the two of them.

Great.

He turned back toward Katsuki, unsure of what to say or do. He had never quite made it that far in his head.

Should he say hey? 

No, too informal.

Curse him out and punch him in the face?

Hmm, a little more satisfying, but a bit too brash.

Ask him why?

Like I’m ready for the fucking answer…

They were both frozen, standing there like time had been paused, like the Earth had stopped spinning. 

The silence was deafening, and begged to be broken—to be shattered like a window, or maybe a mirror.

Just say something, you idiot! Anything!

Shouto’s mouth opened. His tongue was dry and heavy like lead and it wasn’t quite connected to his brain, but he was speaking, and that’s all that mattered, wasn’t it?

But then Katsuki’s eyes widened in shock, his cheeks flushing and lips parting, and Shouto put two and fucking two together to realize what the fuck he’d just said. 

‘On three,’ was nowhere near what he had meant to say—it wasn’t even in the same galaxy, but it was too late to take it back, because Katsuki was already grinning and raising his fist.

And when all was said and done, even with the distance of so many years and an entire ocean between them, it was like they were back in the dorms, and all Shouto could do was raise his own hand, and prepare for the fall.

Katsuki played rock.

Shouto played scissors. 

Chapter Text

“On three.”

If anyone asked, Katsuki most assuredly smirked, leaning against his car like James Dean incarnate before giving Shouto a not-so-subtle once over and easily winning at rock, paper, scissors like a pro.

While he was in the process of lying, he would definitely add that this sequence of events had preceded a long and heavy make out session—which Katsuki had initiated—on the hood of his Ferrari 812 Superfast. 

That was the story at least, because no way in hell did Katsuki want anyone to know for how many seconds he just blinked like a dumbass or how hot his cheeks got when those two words finally sunk in. 

Seven whole goddamn years, and the first thing Shouto does is pick back up where they left off like time was just a construct and that nothing had changed aside from Katsuki growing several inches and Shouto going from an eleven to a fifteen out of ten on a scale of attractiveness. 

It felt a little like losing the upper hand—not that mistakenly interrupting Natsuo’s wedding hadn’t already done so—but the hole he’d dug for himself was getting deeper with every passing moment. 

So Katsuki did what he could, donning a smirk despite his combination of mortification and unease, and he raised a fist to play. 

He’d never given much thought to their games back in high school. Katsuki had tried to work out a strategy, but there wasn’t really a point when Shouto always picked scissors. 

It was different now, though. 

This time if Shouto played scissors, it would be like an olive branch—a confirmation that everything was the same. Or maybe that wasn’t so much an olive branch as a warning, like something highly colorful and toxic. Katsuki could never be sure which way was up with Shouto, even when they had lived in the dorms together.

Now... well, all he could do was play into it. Pick rock and it’s as good as saying ‘I don’t want things to have changed, either.’ Pick paper and what kind of a statement would he be making then?

Was that an apology? Would Shouto take it as Katsuki’s version of saying ‘sorry I ran away,’ or was that more like rolling over? Admitting defeat?

In the end, Katsuki won, because Shouto was still playing scissors after all this time, and Katsuki could never admit defeat. 

For a few moments, neither of them moved. 

They just stood there in the chilly February air, tension thick like the last cord holding together a suspension bridge worth of unspoken sentiments. And Katsuki could pull out a dictionary and look up all of the words to say, but no book would explain to him how to string them together into anything Shouto deserved, much less wanted to hear. 

“You look great...” Fuck, that was lame. 

Katsuki bit down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything else idiotic and glaringly obvious.

Shouto’s browns came together, his mouth in a thin line. 

“Thanks.” And then he added as an afterthought, “It’s the makeup...”

Katsuki arched a brow. “Since when do you wear makeup, pretty boy?”

Shouto blanched, but the look he shot back was bordering on venomous. 

“Since I decided to show up hungover to my brother’s wedding—which you barged in on, by the way, in case you forgot. What the fuck was that about?”

“Oh yeah… heh, well I heard there was gonna be a villain attack, so you’re welcome for stopping it.”

Shouto gave him the driest, most deadpan look he was capable of, shoulders slumping.

Fuck, he sees right through me.

“A villain? That’s what you’re going to go with? Really, Bakugou?”

Katsuki forced himself not to falter. 

Just gotta derail the conversation.

“You know, you used to call me by my given name, Shouto . And why the fuck you hungover? I leave and you become some kind of party boy, or something?”

Shouto flinched and okay, maybe not the best idea to bring up leaving, but now Shouto would drop the wedding thing.

“Don’t think I’ve dropped the wedding thing. Hana wants your head on a pike.”

“Tsk, she does or you do?”

“What are you doing here, Bakugou?”

Shouto had obviously given up on sidestepping. His voice sounded exasperated, tired. 

Katsuki looked away, pushing off of his car and glancing around the garden before turning back. 

“Want to get out of here?”

Shouto crossed his arms. “Cashing in on that rock/paper/scissors win already?” 

“Your fault for always playing scissors.”

Shouto’s left cheek flushed and he turned away, but Katsuki could see the slight uptick to his lips. 

“C’mon, we can grab some food. I’ll drive.”

Shouto turned back around and eyed the car warily like he’d only just noticed it. “This is yours?” He gestured to the car and Katsuki smirked. 

“Yep. Impressed yet?”

Shouto scoffed. “I’m not getting in that death trap.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes and once again it was like they were back in high school.

“I’m not escaping death at the hands of villains just to die due to your reckless driving.”

“Excuse you, I am not a goddamned reckless driver!”

Shouto tilted his head and crossed his arms again, his face set with resolve.

So fucking stubborn...

Katsuki pulled open the passenger door, standing to the side and motioning for Shouto to get in, but the bastard sliced his head side to side sharply and didn’t move an inch. 

“Why won’t you just get in the fucking car?” Katsuki muttered defeatedly. 

Shouto kept his tone flat like they were discussing the weather. “Because I’m nauseous, and I don’t trust you.”

“You used to trust me…” Katsuki muttered under his breath. He was thankful that the wind caught it, carrying it away to be obscured and then forgotten. 

“I’ll buy you soba. You still like that bland shit, right?”

Shouto perked up but then masked it, still playing hard to get.

“C’mon, you gotta eat, right? Especially if you’re skipping out on the reception. There’s this new place downtown.”

Shouto uncrossed his arms and approached the car much like someone would approach the edge of a cliff. He circled around it, ghosting his fingers over the rear spoiler and taking in the masterpiece of modern engineering. 

“When did you learn to drive?”

“Hop in and I might tell you.” 

Their eyes met over the roof of the car. Shouto opened the driver door, taking in the dark interior. 

“Tell you what, pretty boy: get in and I’ll answer anything you wanna know.”

Shouto’s fingers stilled against the steering wheel, something flickering on his face. He stayed like that for a few more seconds before coming around to the other side and sliding into the passenger seat. 

Katsuki could hardly believe that Shouto was there, sitting gracefully in the front seat of the egregiously expensive car. 

“It suits you.”

Katsuki didn’t wait for a response, closing the door and walking around to the driver’s seat.

The car purred to life, vibrating under his finger tips. Shouto took in the dashboard and controls before glancing at the passenger display.

“What is this for?”

Katsuki turned to where he was pointing. “Shows you RPMs, how fast we’re going, G force, shit like that.”

Shouto crossed his arms again. “You’re dumb for paying this much for a car.”

“And how would you know what I paid for it?”

He snorted and looked out of the window. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and pulled out of the parking lot, taking much more care than he had coming in. The drive was lined with the same winter blooming flora as the gardens, and it made Katsuki think of the wedding.

“So Shitty Hair’s the only one from Yuuei that gets an invite to your brother’s wedding?’

Shouto didn’t even turn. “He was my date…”

Katsuki hit the brakes too hard, the car coming to a much more abrupt stop than he’d planned and Shouto glared at him like he could set him on fire.

“I thought you said you knew how to drive!”

“I do! You just… caught me off guard, fucking hell!” 

Katsuki gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked under his white knuckles. “So, you and shitty hair, huh? He didn’t tell me you two were—“

“We’re not,” Shouto snapped. “If you must know, I invited him because he’s not interested in sleeping with me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a plus one, halfie? It’s called a wedding ‘ date’ for a reason.”

“Why the hell would I bring an actual date to a wedding? So they can spend the entire time dreamy sighing and saying ‘ aren’t weddings so romantic’ like I don’t know they’re asking for commitment I’m not willing to give?” 

“Well goddamn, pretty boy. Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“Fuyumi got married last year, “ he bit out. 

They fell into an uncomfortable silence as Katsuki weaved through traffic, and he clicked on the radio, the system syncing to his phone.

‘ I wish I’d known how much you loved me. I wish I’d cared enough to know. I’m sorry—‘

Click. 

The car plunged back into silence as Katsuki turned the music off. 

They were at a stoplight, neither of them talking, the air thick and suffocating.

“So… you gonna ask those questions or what?”

“I’m thinking.”

Katsuki scoffed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

The light turned green and traffic began to move again. 

“I learned to drive the fall after I moved, by the way. The Pacific Northwest kinda sucks because of the weather, but I mostly got the hang of it before it got cold, so I just had to deal with rain instead of ice.”

Shouto hummed. “Pacific Northwest… is that where you lived?”

“Yeah. They originally wanted to send me to New York, but the agency said I’d end up fighting too many civilians, so they transferred me to Seattle.”

Shouto laughed but then cut himself off, turning back to the window. 

“Did you like it? America?”

“It was... different.” You weren’t there. 

“Good different, or bad different?”

“Different, different.”

“Oh.”

Katsuki made a turn, heading toward the restaurant. 

“What about now? Are you living in the city?”

“Yeah, Shitty Hair and the Nerd set me up downtown.”

Shouto turned back toward him, his face blank.

“So it’s close?”

“Hmm?” Katsuki stopped at another light and threw him a sideways glance. “Yeah, it’s just a couple blocks North of here, why?”

‘I’m not hungry.”

Katsuki’s brows came together. “Well then why the fuck am I taking you to get soba?”

“You could just give me a tour of your place, instead.” Shouto’s voice was even, expression unreadable.

“Tsk. You that eager to cash in on your loss, Icyhot?”

Katsuki expected Shouto to tell him to fuck off and back out, but he only scoffed and leaned his head against the rest. 

“So what if I am? Like it doesn’t benefit you.”

Fuck we’re really doing this, aren’t we?

Katsuki stopped heading toward the restaurant and drove them to his building, parking in the underground garage and leading Shouto to his flat. 

It felt strange to unlock the door and let Shouto inside. It wasn’t like Katsuki was any more familiar with the place than Shouto was. 

“It’s nice… minimalist.”

“You sound surprised, pretty boy.”

“Yes well, I half expected a giant painting of your face in the entryway.”

Katsuki glared at him and started going through the cabinets, looking for wine glasses. 

“You think I’m that self centered?”

Shouto laughed. “I’m hero Dynamight… I’m god’s gift to the world… oh how does it feel? It feels like winning…” 

“I don’t sound like that motherfucker!”

“Are you sure? Are you really sure?” Shouto stripped his suit jacket off and leaned against the kitchen counter, his hair spilling over his shoulder. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and grabbed two glasses before pulling a bottle of wine from the rack. 

“Okay, asshole. My turn for the questions.”

Shouto arched a brow and tilted his head. “I don’t remember saying I’d answer questions.”

“It was in the fine print of the ‘ you talking shit’ agreement.”

“There was an agreement? So you agree that you sound like that?”

“Shut up,” Katsuki poured them both a glass. “You still working with that flaming shit stick?”

Shouto eyed the drink distastefully, and Katsuki belatedly remembered that he’d mentioned a hangover.

“He’s not so bad anymore. I still give him hell, but there are worse places I could be working.” He swirled the glass and smelled it before setting it back down. “Next question.”

Katsuki took a swig of wine, shuddering and smacking his lips together. “You have a lot of pictures. Online, I mean.”

“That wasn’t a question, Bakugou.”

“Tsk. You got a girlfriend?”

“Kirishima was my plus one for the wedding, what do you think?”

“I think that’s not an answer. I think you’re evading.”

Shouto leaned in and grabbed Katsuki’s glass, sliding it out of reach. “And I think you're stalling.”

“The fuck are you talking—“

“Are you going to fuck me or not, Katsuki?”

The first thing Katsuki learned about his new apartment, was that he could make it from the kitchen to the bedroom in twenty-seven seconds while carrying a person. Maybe quicker if said person hadn't been distracting him. 

He dropped Shouto once they’d passed the threshold of his room, and Shouto ripped his shirt open before moving to his pants. Katsuki had just enough time to get his shirt off before Shouto was shoving him onto the bed. 

Katsuki hit the mattress with a grunt, feeling his pants being tugged down his legs in a way that reminded him much too much of being back at Yuuei.

He was trying to tell Shouto to slow down—to take back some semblance of control, but there was nothing about the current situation that said Katsuki was the one calling the shots. 

Shouto crawled over him and shit, they’d gotten naked fast. The light was catching on the planes of his toned chest and individual stands of his long hair. It made him look both sinful and angelic, the hedonist and the saint. 

Katsuki supposed that much hadn’t changed. Shouto had always occupied the space in his mind that was reserved for paradoxes and other oddities. 

He lined himself up and Katsuki grabbed hold of his waist in an effort to still him, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from sliding down—enveloping Katsuki’s cock in the perfect, and already prepped heat of his body. 

Katsuki gasped but it devolved into a groan as Shouto rolled his hips. The friction was like a live wire, Katsuki’s nerves screaming out in a symphony of euphoria and torture. The heat in his core bubbled over, that wave of pleasure building. 

Katsuki knew it was going to happen only a split second before it did, and he was powerless to stop it.

Shouto lifted himself so that only the tip of Katsuki’s cock remained inside, and then he slammed back down, and that impact—the sudden jolt of the first actual thrust —sent him hurting over the edge of his orgasm. 

Katsuki spilled his release inside of Shouto, filling him almost instantly in the second most embarrassing moment of his life.

“Did… did you just…”

Shouto pulled off and reached behind, dipping a finger into himself, his mismatch eyes widening in surprise. 

Katsuki laid in a state of mortification, realizing in hindsight that he maybe should have done more than jerking off once a month, and that years of pent up sexual frustration would come around to bite him in the ass. 

“And here I thought I was in for a decent fuck.”

Katsuki scowled. “Fuck you! It’s been a while…” 

His face heated and he looked away, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Want to go ahead and define a while for me? You lasted longer in high school.”

Katsuki most certainly did not want to define awhile, because then Shouto might be blatantly aware of the fact that he was the only person Katsuki had ever had sex with. 

“I mean really, it’s like the last time you got laid was graduation.”

Katsuki tried to keep his face neutral, but there must have been some flicker, because Shouto went quiet for a beat. 

“No.” He shook his head and turned Katsuki’s flushed face towards him. “No way, Kat.” 

Katsuki glared up at him, wishing to be anywhere else. 

“There had to have been people in America. Women were probably throwing themselves at you.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, leaning up and shoving Shouto off of him. “Didn’t have the time to whore around like you. Sorry to disappoint, princess, I’ll be going—“

“Like hell you will.” Shouto pulled him back onto the bed, pinning him and smirking. “You’re telling me that I’m the only person you’ve ever fucked?”

Katsuki hated the conversation with every fiber of his being, but he forced himself to nod. 

“Oh, Kat…” Shouto leaned down, his breath ghosting over Katsuki’s ear. It sent a chill down his spine, the heat combining with his saccharine tone to have blood rushing back to Katsuki’s cock.

“I am going to ruin you.” 

Katsuki didn’t have enough time to explain that Shouto had already ruined him for other people before his cock was being stroked back to full hardness. He gasped and bit his lip hard enough to flood his mouth with the metallic tang of blood—back arching into Shouto’s fist with every cruel stroke.

“Think you can just bring me home, get your dick wet, and run away?” He punctuated each word with a flick of his wrist and Katsuki swore. 

“Wh-what the f —holyfuckingshit— what are you—“

Shouto tightened his hold and Katsuki’s vision swam. “Always so selfish… only thinking about what you want.”

“I-I don’t…”

He could barely think past the thumb sliding along his dripping slit. The dry friction of each stroke stung and Shouto spit on his cock, working it around for some blessed relief. 

“You’re so responsive...” His tone was unimpressed, but there was something privately satisfied behind his eyes. “You really haven’t fucked anyone else, have you?”

He smirked and then crawled back on top of him, carding scalding fingers through his hair. 

“Throw me off if you need me to stop, Bakugou.”

“Why the fuck would I need to st—“ Katsuki gasped as Shouto sat down on his cock again, taking the entire length to the base with a sigh like it was nothing. 

“You might need to, because overstimulation can be very real, and I don’t want to push you further than you can take.”

“Of course I can fucking take it!”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” He snapped and picked himself up, coming back down slowly. 

His thighs flexed with the effort of each measured bounce, and he looked down at Katsuki expectantly, almost like he was studying him. 

Katsuki grit his teeth. The slow slide of Shouto’s slick walls around his cock was maddening, a hellish combination of too much and not enough. 

“The fuck are you staring at?”

Shouto hummed and braced his hands on Katsuki’s chest. “Just making sure you’re not going to come again before I’ve had my fun.” 

Something like rage burst through Katsuki’s veins, his palms crackling against the sheets. The smell of smoke and burnt sugar filled the space and it was a miracle that the sprinkler system didn’t activate. 

Shouto let out an exasperated sign. “You haven’t changed much, have you?” 

He batted his pretty eyes and increased his pace, putting more of his weight into his arms and shooting Katsuki a look that promised the most delectable type of destruction. 

Shouto’s legs flexed as he lifted himself, muscles rippling below the surface of pale skin that begged to be dusted with red and purple. Katsuki leaned up and this time he wasn’t a passive participant, letting his hands roam over planes that he’d long since forgotten, each curve coming back to him like the lyrics to an old favorite song. 

Katsuki thrust up into his tight heat, cum leaking out from where they were joined to fill the room with wet noises. He focused on the anger and all of the more complicated emotions. 

It was rough and hungry, and Katsuki’s second orgasm bubbled up more quickly than he would have liked. 

Shouto continued to bring his hips down even as Katsuki filled him again, and the incessant friction on his throbbing cock had his muscles spasming and his head spinning.

“F-fuck, Sho… hnnggg st-stop…”

Shouto smirked and slid his hands around his throat, pressing into the sides of his neck with only a slight amount of pressure. 

“Throw me off, then.”

He slammed himself down again, his ass gripping Katsuki’s spent cock like a vise. Katsuki shook his head vehemently and dug his fingertips into Shouto’s waist, meeting him thrust for thrust in spite of his screaming nerves. 

His vision was blurring at the edges, and Katsuki flipped them and pulled Shouto’s hands away from his throat, pinning them above his head. His mismatched hair fanned out on the pillow and for a second Katsuki couldn’t breathe for a different reason altogether. 

Shouto blinked up at him, his face was finally flushed, his chest heaving with each panted breath. It satisfied Katsuki to see that Shouto was still affected by him. 

Katsuki hitched one of Shouto’s legs up, staring down at his puffy entrance. White leaked out onto the sheets, and Katsuki ran a finger through his own cum, collecting it and shoving it back inside of him in a daze. 

Shouto bit his lip, his brows pinched. His body clenched around the digits and Katsuki smirked down at him, feeling the control shift back his way. 

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” He squeezed Shouto’s wrists more forcefully and stilled his other hand, two fingers seated deep inside of him. “You only got fight in you when you’re on top?” 

Shouto scowled and tried to jerk his hands away, but the movement had Katsuki’s fingers brushing against his prostate and his struggle devolved into a full body shudder. 

“What was it that you always play?” Katsuki tilted his head like he was thinking. “Oh, right. Scissors…”

He spread his fingers and Shouto yelped, his cock twitching and leaking onto his toned stomach. 

“A-ah Kat… don’t—“

“Throw me off if you need me to stop.” 

Katsuki curled his fingers at a relentless pace, unraveling Shouto with his hand and giving himself time to recover. 

Shouto’s bottom lip was a deep red from being sucked between his teeth, and there was fire in his eyes, but he’d stopped trying to free his arms, and his hips were rolling steadily against Katsuki’s hand.

“C’mon, just fuck me already…” red eyes flicked to his face just in time to see Shouto’s cunning smile. “Or are you too afraid to embarrass yourself? Scared you’ll come the second you slide inside like a—“

He shut Shouto up with his cock, trusting it back inside his sloppy hole before he could even register that Katsuki’d removed his fingers. 

With his hands free, Shouto clawed at his back, dragging his blunt nails against sweat covered skin. Katsuki fucked into him without restraint, pressing their foreheads together, getting lost in the sharp smell of smoke and sweat and another scent that was so inherently Shouto that Katsuki choked on nostalgia. 

It was frantic and messy—cum leaking out with every slam of hips, sweat beading on their skin, saliva intermingling and trailing from parted lips. 

Katsuki tried to say with his hips all of the words he couldn’t find, letting each word manifest as a new bruise or bite mark. He had always been more invested in actions, after all, and the absence of space between their bodies said more than ‘ I’ve missed you’ ever could. 

Shouto dragged him down into a wet kiss, biting, sucking, pulling him deeper, spreading his legs wider. Katsuki thought there might be tears on Shouto’s cheeks, but he could have been mistaken.

Katsuki felt his release building once again, and he buried himself to the hilt, gasping into the juncture of Shouto’s neck as he filled him for the third time. 

They were both panting, chests moving against each other with every rhythmic breath. Katsuki absentmindedly rubbed his fingers through long, mismatched hair, pushing himself up on his elbows to brush damp locks off of Shouto’s forehead. 

Shouto’s brows were furrowed, his lips in a little pout. 

“Again.”

Katsuki shifted and breathed out a small laugh. “Spoiled brat.“

“I said, again.” 

“What happened to only one of us gets to come, pretty boy? No way you can go another round.”

Shouto snorted and rolled his eyes, sealing his fate with one snarky retort. 

“Like you could even make me come.” 

Katsuki grabbed hold of one of his wrists and flipped him, manhandling him onto his knees before plunging back inside. 

Shouto’s voice broke on a loud curse and he fell onto his chest, but Katsuki kept his hips raised with the force of his thrusts, scooting them closer to the headboard with every slam of hips. 

He had no idea how he was still going, his cock kept hard only by spite and sheer force of will. 

Katsuki half expected Shouto to beg him to stop, because there was no way Shouto wasn’t close to his first orgasm. But he had to remind himself that this wasn’t the same Shouto from high school. He had to stop relying so much on expectations, to start anticipating the unexpected.

Shouto braced a hand against the headboard and fucked back against Katsuki like he needed it to breathe, like it was just as important as the air in his lungs. 

There was smoke coming from where his fingers met the wood, and Katsuki felt a confusing tinge of jealousy for a moment, envious that his headboard would bear more permanent evidence of their activities than either of their bodies would.

Shouto’s cock was leaking heavily, but he hadn’t come yet, and he wasn’t asking Katsuki to stop, so Katsuki gripped his hips harder and slammed into him with brutal strokes. And in a perverse moment of unbridled possessiveness, he activated his quirk and fired off several small explosions against Shouto’s hips.

Shouto jolted and screamed, the broken noise dragging Katsuki back to his senses. He stopped immediately and ripped his hands away from fresh burn marks, pulling his cock out with a gasp. 

“I-I’m sorry, fuck, I shouldn’t—“

Shouto shoved him and stumbled to the bathroom, slamming the door. Katsuki stared after him for what felt like an eternity, but soon enough Shouto was back out and storming toward the bed.

I’m gonna get punched in the face and I’m gonna deserve it. 

He braced himself for the impact of a fist to the cheek, or maybe the stomach, but the only thing that clashed were their lips as Shouto tackled him onto the bed. 

Katsuki’s hands slid down and he brushed the pink handprints of Shouto’s hips, causing him to hiss and then groan into Katsuki’s mouth. 

Shouto bit down on his lip and fisted their cocks together, and Katsuki had to grab a hand full of his hair and tug him away from the kiss.

“Hey, fuckin’ wait a sec! Just… fuck.”

Shouto stopped his ministrations and gave him an unreadable look. His skin was flushed, pupils blown so wide his eyes looked the same color. 

“What was that? Are you okay?”

Shouto’s eyes flickered and he tried to nod, but Katsuki’s fingers were still tangled in his hair. 

“I’m fine. Can we get back to it?”

His voice was all huffy, and impatient, and admittedly kinda cute, and Katsuki kissed the pout off of his lips, cupping his face and letting Shouto work their cocks side by side. 

Katsuki felt like an exposed nerve when Shouto took him back into his body, but by then he was little more than an addict, a man wholly possessed with the need to own and be owned by the drug on top of him. 

He let Shouto use him in the way someone would let the riptide pull them out to sea. It was both drowning and being shocked back to life, and by the time he came for the last time, he felt like he’d been brought back from the edge of death.

Shouto collapsed onto the bed next to him, his previously unmarred body now littered with the evidence of their tryst. His hair was damp and sticking to his shoulders, red and white tangled together in an endearing mess, and Katsuki watched him take in lungfuls of air, his flushed cock still hard.

It was a wonder he hadn’t come. Katsuki thought about how many people Shouto had to have been with to have that kind of stamina—how recently and frequently he must have people in his bed. Women had to have been lining up by the dozen to get a chance with him. 

He wanted to ask Shouto why he’d agreed to this, why pick back up with their game now that he was Mr. Popular, but his skin felt disgusting and he smelled like a badly burnt cream brûlée. 

Katsuki staggered to his feet and headed toward the shower that was calling his name. He needed to be clean. He needed to sleep, but no matter how tired he was, there were more important things to think about. Like how Katsuki could ever talk about his decision to leave, and where the fuck this left them now.

Shouto watched Katsuki get out of bed with all of the grace of a newborn giraffe. 

His back was heavily marked, deep red lines cutting up and down the planes of muscle. Shouto wondered how much of Katsuki’s flesh was now beneath his fingernails, and it left him privately satisfied in a sadistic way.

Katsuki turned around and looked at him, and his front wasn’t much better, his throat littered with hickies and the evidence of Shouto’s hands around his neck. 

His mouth was opening and closing, and he just stared back at Shouto before he found words. 

“I’m taking a shower, then I’m coming out here and we’re gonna talk. Got it?”

Shouto sat up against the headboard and winced, nodding silently before pulling the covers up over his naked body and melting further into the pillows. 

Katsuki grunted his approval and closed the bathroom door behind him, and Shouto stared at the door for several moments, taking in the events of the past several hours. 

His cock softened as he sat. It would have taken longer had he not slipped off to the bathroom to come before—which admittedly was cheating with their little deal—but the alternative was painting the sheets while Katsuki was inside of him. 

At least this way it was a secret. 

But now Katsuki wanted to talk, and there was no telling what he was going to say. 

Shouto wasn’t naive enough to think it was going to be some kind of apology or love confession—he’d given up hope on those a long time ago. And all that left was a slew of possibilities in varying shades of I really don’t want to hear this.

So Shouto took a page out of his own book, and decided to practice a little self care.

He cast a cursory glance at the door and crawled out of bed, grabbing his discarded clothes and sliding into them silently. 

Then he waited for the sound of running water and left the apartment without so much as a note. 

Chapter Text

The first emotion Katsuki had felt after getting out of the shower was confusion. The second one was betrayal. The third was anger. The fourth was…

Was understanding an emotion?

He had sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the wrinkled sheets and charred headboard—the handprint there the only real proof that it hadn’t all been a construct of his sleep deprived mind. 

Well, that and the marks littering his body. 

It had taken him longer to fall asleep than it should have, given the events of the previous days, but he must have passed out at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was being jerked awake by some asshole knocking on his door. 

Katsuki groaned and stomped to the door, opening it and then promptly trying to close it again. 

“Kacchan! I’m so happy you’re back!”

Deku stuck his foot in the door and pushed his way inside, smiling broadly.

“You, out. I’m trying to get some fucking sleep.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m here to take you to lunch!” 

Deku patted him on the shoulder and continued ignoring his protests, heading to the kitchen and milling about with more familiarity than Katsuki had with the place.

“Do you drink coffee? I stocked it just in case.” He didn’t wait for an answer before shoving Katsuki down into one of the barstools and filling a pot with water. 

Katsuki was heavily inclined to make a break for it and throw himself out of the nearest window, but the rich smell of freshly ground arabica and the promise of caffeine kept him planted firmly in his seat.

“I can’t believe we’re both number one heroes! Me in Japan, you in America,” Deku smiled over the kitchen island, and Katsuki’s scowl deepened. “Isn’t it amazing, Kacchan? How do you think your popularity ratings will translate to—“

“Can we not fucking talk about this till I’ve had some of that goddamned coffee?”

Deku hummed and tapped his chin. “Okay, well we can talk about other things.”

Katsuki opened his mouth to say ‘like what?’ but apparently he didn’t need to, because Deku kept going. 

“Like why you decided it was a good idea to have sex with Shouto again.”

For a second, all Katsuki could do was blink dumbly and try to process the words; after which, he spent a moment of silence questioning the unparalleled audacity of the fucker in his kitchen. 

“How the fuck would you know anything about that!?”

Deku gave him a dry look. “He’s my best friend, Kacchan. You think he didn’t tell me?”

“Well, did he tell you he ran off before we could talk? Don’t go talking to me about stupid ideas.”

His shoulders slumped and he sighed, fetching two mugs from a nearby cabinet. “Can you blame him? You did kind of break his heart...”

“I didn't break shit,” Katsuki leaned over the counter and grabbed his cup of coffee before the nerd could do anything unforgivable, like adding sugar. “We were never even a thing.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, Kacchan, but if that were the case, then why did you stalk him as soon as you got back?”

“I did no such thing, you nosy fucking—“

“Ei says you stalked him.” 

The nerve, the sheer fucking utter betrayal!

“That shitty fucking excuse for a—“ he growled and took a gulp of coffee before counting to ten in his head. 

“It wasn’t stalking.”

Deku’s look could only be described as pitying. “Kacchan… you crashed his brother’s wedding…”

“How do you—“ Katsuki snapped his mouth shut and huffed. “That was your fault.”

Green brows pinched in confusion and he tilted his head. “I’m sorry… I don’t quite see how I played into that?”

“You’re the one who gave me his fucking soap!”

“Hmm, that’s interesting.” He took another drink and Katsuki felt the renewed urge to blast his face off.

“The fuck do you mean interesting?” He grit out.

“You still remembered his scent after seven years. You must associate him with strong feelings of—” 

Oh this self-important fucking bastard…

“Fuck off, shit stick! I didn’t ask for you to waltz in here like you own the place and flaunt your weird fucking psychoanalysis. And I didn’t ask for him to run off like a coward because he couldn't just talk with me like an actual adult.”

“That’s not fair and you know it, Kacchan.” His face and tone were stern and it left Katsuki feeling like a scolded child. “You left first. You can’t fault him for trying to protect himself when you left for the same reason.” 

“You don’t know shit about why I left,” Katsuki snapped. “And if Kirishima said shit to you about the reason, I’ll stuff my fist so far down his throat he’s shitting nitro—“

“No, he wouldn’t tell me, even when I asked. But I know you, and you had probably convinced yourself that leaving was the right thing to do. But even you have to realize you were just running away.”

Katsuki grit his teeth, wishing he had some way to prove the shit nerd wrong, but no amount of denying would change the truth.

Which left evasion as his only option.

“Well now he’s the one running, so what the fuck am I supposed to do about that, genius?”

Deku ran his finger around the edge of his mug and hummed. “He didn’t exactly run far. He’s still in Japan; you still know where to find him. What you do about it depends on you, but I think you owe him some honesty. Maybe start with admitting you’re gay.”

“How bout I start, by kicking you out of my goddamned apartment and going back to bed.”

“But Kacchan…” he whined. “We have so much to talk about! Shinsou and Kaminari are getting married in two weeks and you’re invited on the condition you don’t object during the ceremony.”

“That’s it!”

Katsuki shoved the stool back, ignoring the scrape of metal on hardwood, and grabbed Deku by the arm, dragging him to the front door.

“Oh come on, I was joking! I know you won’t object. Not when Shouto’s not the one getting—“

Katsuki slammed the door in his face. He paced exactly three circles around his living room, and then double checked that Endeavor’s hero agency was still located in the same place. 

Deku might be an annoying fucker, but he did have a point, and Katsuki was going to make sure he talked to Shouto if it was the last thing he did. 

Despite the shitty weather, Katsuki decided that walking would be less annoying than fighting traffic, and he bundled up to stay warm and to keep himself from being recognized.

He wasn’t sure when Shouto would be getting done with his patrol, but it was already late afternoon, so he commandeered a table at the cafe across the street and spent the next two hours with his eyes glued to the front entrance while taking full advantage of free refills on coffee.

The sun was low on the horizon by the time it crossed his mind that Shouto might not be working that day, but he was more determined now then he had been while stalking him two nights before. 

“Sir would you like another re—“

A flash of red and white caught his attention out on the street, and Katsuki threw down more money than was necessary, vaulting out of his seat and bursting through the doors of the cafe. 

He had to dodge a motorcycle and shove through the evening crowds to get across the street, and the commotion was enough to stop Shouto before he could enter the agency. 

He turned with his fingers on the door handle. His long hair was swept up into a high ponytail, his sleek black suit impeccably fitted and clean enough that it had obviously been an uneventful patrol. 

For a second they just stared at one another. The chilly breeze was sweeping through the street, the surrounding buildings and passersby fading away around them. 

Katsuki was acutely aware of his own heartbeat as it accompanied the ringing in his ears, and he forced his body to move—muscles contracting and releasing, his foot lifting to close the gap between them.

Shouto took one look at that first step. There was a flicker of his eyes, a split second for his brain to vacillate between fight or flight. His hand slipped from the door, his feet shifted, and then he turned around—away from Katsuki—and bolted. 

“What the…? WAIT!”

Katsuki took off after him. His feet were pounding against the pavement as he shoved through the crowds, trying not to lose sight of the flighty asshole in front of him.

He didn't have any time to wonder how it looked, the number two hero running from some guy in a black Burberry coat and oversized scarf. He was too focused on the chase, and the scorching lungfuls of icy air. 

They passed building after building, both trying to avoid injuring anyone. Katsuki had to jump off of the sidewalk to avoid plowing into an old lady; Shouto had to freeze the ground and slide under an outside cafe table. 

Katsuki’s throat burned, but there was no way he was going to let Shouto outrun him. 

The bastard veered down an alley, and Katsuki had to slow his momentum with a small blast. The crowds had thinned out the further away from the city center they ran, and there was hardly anyone around to hurt, especially with such a small explosion.

He rounded the corner and then stopped behind Shouto who was staring at the alley’s dead end.

Gotcha. 

Katsuki allowed himself a second to lean on his knees and breathe. He did not allow himself to take his eyes off of Shouto, however. There was no telling what the asshole would do given another opening.

“Okay fucker,” Katsuki righted himself, and Shouto slowly turned around, his cheeks flushed and his chest still heaving. “We’re gonna talk. No more running away.”

Mismatched eyes flickered past Katsuki to the street like he was weighing his options, but otherwise he stayed put.

“Fine, so talk.”

He sounded impatient... and mad. Very, very mad.

Shit, I didn’t think I’d get this far. 

The silence enveloped them, broken only by the whistling of the wind down the alley. Katsuki suppressed a shiver and squared his shoulder. 

Time to open my mouth and see what the fuck my brain comes up with…

“What do you want?”

Oh good. That was articulate.

Shouto squinted, regarding Katsuki like he was something on the bottom of his shoe.

“I’m not playing this game, Katsuki. No open-ended questions. If you want to talk, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I mean…” Katsuki growled and ran his hands through his hair, resisting the urge to pull it out. “What the hell do you want?”

He hadn’t meant to yell, but it definitely came out at a louder than necessary volume. 

“This… this deal? This rock/paper/scissors fuck all. Do you want to start it back up? Do you want something more? Want me to fuck off back to America? What. Do. You. Want!?”

“I wanted you to stay!”

Shouto choked. Not like he was surprised, more like he was drowning—like the admission was an agonizing one. 

“I wanted to confess to you that night during finals! I wanted to tell you that…” he closed his eyes and shook his head. When he looked back at Katsuki his eyes were wet, his voice small. 

“I’m gay.”

Katsuki felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I-I knew after that first time, but I thought that if I said anything, you’d hate me. I thought that lying about it would make things easier. And I tricked myself into believing… no, hoping that you could ever feel the same way about me as I felt about you.”

Shouto breathed out a bitter laugh, something cold and hollow that cut through the evening air like a knife.

“It didn’t matter in the end though, did it? You still left.” 

Katsuki wanted to stop him, to scream apologies at the top of his lungs but it was like a train wreck, something he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from.

“You know… at first I was confused. I didn’t know what I was feeling. It was all so sudden and out of the blue and everything in my mind was twisted up into this ball and I couldn’t even begin to talk about it.

I stopped eating, stopped sleeping. I threw myself into work as a distraction, because the silence was louder than any scream or explosion or collapsing building could ever be. Do you know how many middle of the night breakdowns it took for me to understand that what I was feeling was hurt and anger and betrayal?”

The last rays of sun fizzled out as it dropped below the city skyline, but Katsuki was pretty sure that the sudden drop in temperature had more to do with the man in front of him.

Katsuki almost wished he could take back his demand to talk, rewind and never chase after him—or go back even further, back to graduation, never leave in the first place. 

“You didn’t even have to break down my walls. I gave you a door with a goddamned welcome mat and you still fucking left! And that told me all I needed to know. You didn’t care about me, how could you? I wasn’t worth the time it took to say ‘hey by the way I’m moving to another fucking country .’ No goodbye, nothing. Hell, I would have settled for a fucking text!”

Katsuki shook his head, his stomach churning with every new revelation. He wanted to beg for Shouto to stop talking, but his tongue was lead in his mouth.

“And what hurt worst of all was that I felt like I couldn’t be mad… you were never mine in the first place. You didn’t owe me shit. Who was I to go on hating you? So I didn’t. I tried to let it go, tried to fill that empty space with other things, other people.”

Shouto clenched his fists, his voice shaking slightly.

“I had moved on… and now you come waltzing back in, almost seven years later like you have some kind of claim to me?”

Shouto took a step toward him and then another, and Katsuki forced himself to stay planted. 

“You ask what I want?” His eyes flickered up and down Katsuki’s body. “I wanted to matter to you. I wanted what we had to mean something. Now? I don’t want anything from you now.”

They were close together now, close enough that Katsuki could see the flecks of green in Shouto’s left iris, could smell that intoxicating combination of juniper and mint. His mind was fuzzy, overwhelmed by all of the things Shouto had been holding in. 

There was nothing Katsuki could say to it. No explanation or excuse that would take away the pain. He’d asked for Shouto to talk, and now that he had, Katsuki was the one who didn’t know how to respond.

“Was that a good enough answer for you?” 

Shouto didn’t even wait for a response, brushing past him to leave, but the last remaining clear thought in Katsuki’s mind was screaming for him to stay.

“I’m gay too!”

Katsuki spun around to stop him, but Shouto was already stopped, frozen dead in his tracks by the admission.

“It… doesn’t matter why I left.” His throat felt raw like he’d been screaming, but he forced himself to keep going. “I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you but… fuck! I thought I was protecting you—“

Shouto whirled around, flames dancing in his hair, and Katsuki held up his hands in a defensive gesture. 

“Okay! Okay… I convinced myself I was doing it to protect you, but the only one I was protecting was myself.”

Katsuki could see the flash of his eyes, tension melting away from Shouto’s shoulders. 

“You have every right to be pissed as hell at me. Nothing I could say is gonna change shit. But I want to make this right.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his lips parting. Katsuki closed the distance between them, cupping the back of his neck and willing him to listen.

“No more running. No more lying about shit and dancing around our feelings. Whatever this is between us? I want to make it fucking work. I don’t work for shit I don’t want, you got that? And if I have to spend the next seven years making it up to you then you can bet your ass I’m gonna fucking do it.”

Shouto’s ponytail danced in the frigid air, wild strands tickling Katsuki’s fingers. For the briefest of moments they just stayed like that—occupying the same space, breathing the same air.

“Scissors.”

It was a whisper, and if they hadn’t been so close, Katsuki was sure he would have missed it.

“What?”

Shouto’s eyes flickered. “I pick scissors. Now you pick.”

“I—have we been having the same conversation?”

Shouto blinked and nodded. “Now you pick.”

“We’re both gay, what’s the point—“

Shouto moved so quickly it caught Katsuki off guard, and he grunted as his back hit the brick wall next to them.

“You said you’d work for it... you’re going to fucking work for it. ”

“When I said I’d fucking work for it I meant like taking you on dates and shit, not—“

Shouto gave him a look and Katsuki snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

“Pick.”

Oh you’ve gotta being fucking with me.

Katsuki breathed through his nose, preparing himself for the sting of losing.

“Fucking paper I guess...”

Shouto’s lips ticked up so briefly that Katsuki could almost convince himself he’d imagined it. He pulled away from the wall, straightening his ponytail and regarding Katsuki with an unreadable look.

“It’s cold. I live close.”

Katsuki nodded, staying against the wall and waiting for him to continue.

“We’re going to have sex, but I’m still very mad at you.”

“Blunt as ever, halfie.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

“Tsk. Blunt as ever, Shouto.” Katsuki pushed away from the cold brick and blew into his hands. “You gotta go back to the agency? You kinda bolted earlier.”

Shouto shrugged and lifted his left arm. It took an embarrassing amount of time for Katsuki to realize what he was offering, but when he did, he didn’t hesitate to plaster himself to Shouto’s side.

“Nah, the old man will take care of the paperwork, and I can shower at home.”

Katsuki melted further into him as Shouto used his quirk to heat them, and they fell into step, painting—in some ways—a stranger picture than they had racing through the city. 

Shouto’s apartment wasn’t far from his own, and Katsuki immediately recognized bits here and there from the photos he’d poured over, like a jigsaw puzzle that he could piece together. 

There was the worn chair Shouto liked to curl up and read in, his favorite mug on the counter. The furin chimes that hung from the window in summer were dangling from a stand next to a wall of plants, and there were pictures hanging up that Katsuki had only caught glimpses of through the narrow lens of social media.

The apartment was welcoming and well lived in, not in the same way as Kirishima’s was, but in a way that was both calming and eclectic and so inherently Shouto that Katsuki had to suppress a laugh. 

“What?” Shouto pulled the tie out of his hair and ran his fingers through the long strands. “Not what you expected? I’ve come a little ways since Yuuei.”

Katsuki scoffed and pulled his coat off, hanging it in the entryway and kicking off his shoes. “It’s somehow exactly what I expected… you even have tatami flooring. How long did it take to put in?”

“Well, I convinced Hanta to help me, so a day for the whole apartment?”  

Hanta.

Katsuki’s smile fell a bit. He didn’t know when Shouto had gotten on a first name basis with tape arms, but the thought had his possessiveness flaring back to life. 

“Where’s the bedroom?”

Shouto’s eyes flickered with heat and he pointed to the long hallway. “Last door on the left.”

Katsuki followed his directions, tugging his shirt over his head as he went. Shouto followed behind him, but before Katsuki could make it to the end of the hall, Shouto was pulling him into a different room.

“What the—“

Shouto flicked on the light to the bathroom—because that’s apparently what it was—and made his way over to the shower while reaching for the hidden zipper in his suit.

The shower was a decent size, smaller than his own, but impressive nonetheless. Shouto turned the handle all the way to the left and steam quickly filled the room as he peeled his suit over his shoulders like he was shedding a second skin.

Katsuki’s breath caught when Shouto turned back around. His scarred chest and impeccably toned stomach were covered in marks and bruises, and there were two pink burns on his hips that matched the shape of Katsuki’s palms. 

Shouto’s eyes were alight with enough fire to rival his quirk as he slid his suit lower, down over the swell of his ass, his hardened cock springing free.

Katsuki felt his soul leave his body at the sight before him, though he was mildly confused at the lack of anything under the hero costume.

“Wh-why are you naked?”

Shouto blinked and finished stepping out of the suit, leaving it in a discarded pile. 

“I’m naked because we’re going to take a shower. Was that not obvious?”

“No! I mean, yes… fuck, where are your underwear? A jockstrap maybe? Were you just fully free balling it?”

Mismatched brows came together. “Um… yes? Why, what do you wear?”

“Compression shorts! What the fuck? How can you just go commando like that in spandex!?”

“It’s not spandex. It’s a special blend of meta- and para-aramid polymers. Combining them allows for a high tensile strength while also maintaining a level of fire resistance—“

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I know why they blend them, pretty boy. Don’t play chemistry trivia with me or you’ll lose. That doesn’t explain why you spend your entire patrol alfresco!” 

Shouto snorted and walked toward him, gently nudging him down. Katsuki’s knees hit the tile and he blinked at the change in atmosphere, Shouto’s cock bobbing in front of his face.

“Don’t question it, Blasty. It’s just one less layer.”

Katsuki swallowed at the change in his tone and shifted, his boxers becoming uncomfortably tight. 

Shouto was looking down at him, working his lip between his teeth and carding his fingers through blond spikes in an attempt to pull Katsuki closer.

Katsuki licked his lips and took Shouto into his hand. He stroked him slowly, reaching out with his tongue to catch the salty drop of precum that leaked from the deeply flushed head of his cock. A brilliant flush dusted Shouto’s cheeks, his eyes intense and pupils blown wide. 

Shouto’s cock twitched in his hand, and Katsuki ran his tongue over the tip, dipping into the slit and wetting the velvety skin. Shouto’s breathing was becoming more labored by the second, and Katsuki smirked against the underside of his shaft before licking a long stripe along his entire length.

“F-fuck, Kat…”

The grip on his hair tightened, and Katsuki finally gave in, taking Shouto into his mouth and bobbing his head experimentally. He felt tears sting the corners of his eyes as Shouto’s cock hit his throat, and he pulled off with a gasp, forcing down the urge to gag.

It had been much too long since the last time he’d sucked Shouto’s cock, and it wasn’t like he’d had practice in the time since, but Katsuki never was one to back down from a challenge. 

“Shh…” Shouto pet his head gently and fisted himself, running the tip of his cock over Katsuki’s swollen lips. “Relax baby, breathe through your nose.”

This time Katsuki loosened his jaw and let Shouto enter his mouth slowly, the hand in his hair guiding him further. He focused on breathing, and Shouto groaned as he pressed into Katsuki’s throat. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good…” Shouto pulled out and slid back in, further this time, forcing Katsuki to take more of him with every languid thrust. 

“Is this what you meant by making it up to me?” He punctuated the question with a particularly hard jab and Katsuki nearly doubled over, tears spilling over his cheeks. “The great Dynamight on his knees,” another harsh thrust, “begging for forgiveness.”

Katsuki’s urge to hold Shouto down and fuck him till he was the one begging for forgiveness was only barely overshadowed by the heat pooling low in his gut and the feeling of his throat being stretched open.

He grabbed Shouto’s hips and used the leverage to take him to the base, choking and gagging around the intrusion. Shouto hissed and tugged his hair hard enough to hurt—Katsuki’s fingers digging into the recent burn marks he’d left there. 

The first hot burst of cum was a surprise given how long Shouto had held off the previous night. Katsuki refused to pull off and spit like a fucking quitter, so he swallowed everything he was given, letting it slide down his willing throat in bursts. 

For a few moments after, Shouto continued to lazily fuck into his mouth, and Katsuki humored him, blinking and palming himself through his jeans.

Shouto finally pulled out, allowing him to breathe, and Katsuki staggered to his feet in an ungraceful display. His own cock was painfully hair and leaking, but he knew there was no way he would be able to hold off on coming long enough to give Shouto another orgasm if he fucked him.

Katsuki wasn't finished though. He grabbed Shouto and shoved him into the wall, swallowing his surprised grunt.

Katsuki had him pinned, lifting him against the door and groping at his exposed thighs and ass. He thought about all of the delicious little marks that had been covered by his costume, and Katsuki buried his face against Shouto’s neck, rolling their hips together and sucking a fresh mark just below his ear.

Good luck covering that up. 

For his part, Shouto gave as good as he got, tugging Katsuki’s hair, dragging fresh lines across his back with blunt nails as he kissed back. 

They eventually made it under the hot spray of water, pulling away from one another just long enough for Katsuki to finish stripping. 

When he was fully naked, he grabbed a fist full of Shouto’s now wet hair and shoved him down onto his hands and knees, wishing he had the stamina to slam inside of him and fuck him till morning without coming. But as it stood, Katsuki was already dangerously close just from sucking the bastard’s cock and grinding against him.

Katsuki dropped to his knees behind him and circled his pink hole with a thumb, feeling the still pliant muscles flutter and give way under his touch. His thumb slid easily into Shouto’s ass, and Katsuki spread his cheeks to lick a stripe across his opening.

Shouto moaned and leaned back into it, and Katsuki flicked his tongue again, tasting him before breaching him, the delicate skin giving way to slick walls. 

Katsuki went to work eating him. He wasn’t terribly confident in his ability, but the noises bouncing against the tile were getting higher and louder and more strained, so he supposed he was doing okay. 

He worked his fingers in one by one using saliva and the bottle of gel-based lube Shouto had stashed in the shower—twisting and scissoring and rubbing against the bundle of nerves inside of him. 

Shouto was leaning on his crossed arms, his ass in the air, begging and whimpering as he fucked back against his hand. Katsuki smirked and added a fourth finger. He watched the way Shouto’s body accommodated the stretch, his rim flushed red as it strained to take more of him.

“Ahh—I can’t…” Shouto braced his hand against the wall and choked on what sounded like a sob, his body clamping down around Katsuki’s hand. “P-please…”

“Please what, pretty boy?” Katsuki reached between his quivering thighs to fist his cock, almost causing Shouto’s legs to buckle. “Want more?”

Shouto groaned out an incoherent string that sounded vaguely like yesfuckyespleaseIneedit, so Katsuki decided to oblige him, pouring more lube onto his ass and pressing in with his thumb.

Katsuki let his own cock go neglected as he stroked Shouto and applied more force. 

Shouto slapped the tile and let out a guttural scream that was sure to disturb the neighbors as Katsuki’s hand was finally sucked inside, and his cock pulsed in Katsuki’s fist, Shouto’s second orgasm rippling through his body instantly. 

Katsuki had to sink his teeth into his lip to keep himself from coming at the sight, and he waited until Shouto’s breathing regulated before pulling his hand out. Shouto hissed at the stimulation, his ass clamping down around nothing. 

Katsuki leaned against the shower wall and pulled Shouto into his lap, laughing a little when Shouto haphazardly punched him in the chest.

“Asshole… you didn’t have to fucking fist me…”

“Yeah but you liked it.” He carded his fingers through Shouto’s wet hair, breathing and letting the hot water wash over both of them.

“That’s beside the point,” Shouto buried his head against Katsuki’s neck and groaned. “My ass hurts and I’m so fucking tired, please tell me I don’t have to stand up.”

“Tsk, spoiled…”

Katsuki repositioned Shouto to be out of the direct spray and grabbed his shampoo, pouring it into his hands and methodically lathering Shouto’s hair. 

Shouto closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, letting out pleased little hums as Katsuki rinsed his hair and massaged his scalp. He gave no complaints when Katsuki helped him clean his body as well, and Shouto stayed on the floor, watching silently when Katsuki finally showered himself.

The water went cold before they were done, but Katsuki couldn't really bring himself to care, not when Shouto was being so docile and affectionate. It probably had more to do with him being tired and sated than anything else, but he’d take what he could get for now.

He helped Shouto to his feet and wrapped a towel around his head, trying to soak up the excess water before heading to the cabinet.

“What are you looking for?”

Katsuki opened it and smiled, pulling out an orange bottle and waving it. “Helping you with your hair, princess.”

Shouto laughed and stayed still while Katsuki worked the oil into his damp locks, taking more time than was admittedly necessary. 

He was definitely stalling, they both knew it, but he made it longer than he expected before Shouto finally broke the silence.

“You should go.”

He was wrapped in an oversized robe, hair mostly dry and untangled from Katsuki brushing it. 

“I know.” Katsuki untied the towel from his waist and redressed, feeling exhaustion settle into his bones as well. “Am I gonna actually get to see you soon?”

Shouto hummed and walked out into the hall. “There’s not really a point in me ghosting you, since Izuku says you’ll just stalk me.”

That motherfucker!

“That nerd doesn’t know shit, tell him to keep his mouth shut!”

Shouto laughed and raised a brow, opening the front door as if to say ‘get the fuck out,’ in the most subtle way possible.

“Sure he doesn’t,” he smirked. “I’m working all this week but I’m usually off by dinner time. Shoot me a text if you get bored and feel like groveling some more.”

“How am I supposed to do that without your number, sweet cheeks?”

Shouto huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, babe.”

Katsuki finished putting on his coat and shoes and turned back around in the doorway, running a hand through his hair.

“So,” he kept his voice measured. “How long you gonna make me suffer?”

Shouto gave him a gentle shove out into the hallway and threw his scarf at him, leaning against the doorframe with a sly smile.

“Haven’t really decided yet.”  He tried to punctuate it with what was more of a blink than a wink, but before Katsuki could laugh at him for it, he shut the door.

Tsk. He’s lucky he’s pretty.

Katsuki pulled his phone out and unlocked it to call an Uber, but his attention was pulled to his messages and the little icon denoting one was unread.

“I swear to god if this is Deku—“

He opened the app and paused before his exasperated grumbling devolved into a disbelieving laugh.

When the fuck did he...

Text me when you notice.

Was the only thing it said. There was no name, no indication who it was from.

Nothing aside from the suspiciously new contact in his phone, labeled only with the scissors emoji.

Chapter Text

“He did not.”

“He did.”

“In the shower? And you just let him?”

“Well he didn’t exactly announce he was going to do it…”

“HE DID IT WITHOUT ASKING YOU?”

“Shhh… no. I mean, I kinda asked for more, and he was already pretty close to it, so it’s not like he went straight from one finger to shoving his entire fist in my—“

“Oh my god can we please stop talking about this!?”

Natsuo’s mortified voice cut through their conversation, and Hana and Shouto turned toward him.

“Oh come on, you’re the one who wanted to tag along, babe. I’m just trying to get the juicy details.”

“You said you were just gonna be spilling the tea, not that my baby brother getting fisted was a topic of discussion!”

Shouto took a sip of his blackberry gin & tonic. “He’s right, Hana, we can drop it. It’s not really a riveting brunch conversation.”

“But you said you’d give me full details! Did it at least feel good?”

Shouto shrugged and swept his hair off of his shoulder. “I came instantly.”

“Alright!” Natsuo shoved his chair back and grabbed his empty glass. “I’m gonna need another Bloody Mary for this.”

Hana rolled her eyes at him and slapped his ass as he walked away before turning back to Shouto. 

“Okay but you two talked though, right?”

Shouto thought back to the alley, to the seven years of pent up feelings he’d spewed and Katsuki’s subsequent vow to make it right. 

Did that count as talking?

“We kind of did?”

She stopped taking a drink of her mimosa and glared from the seat next to him. “What do you mean, kind of?”

“Well, I put all of my feelings out there, and he said he wanted to make it work between us, but he wouldn’t tell me why he left in the first place. He said it didn’t matter.”

“Of course it fucking matters! Why didn’t you make him tell you?”

Shouto signed, stirring his drink with the small straw. “I panicked... It was so much emotional bullshit all at once and he was so close to me and he said he wanted me, and I just instinctively resorted to sex, okay?”

“You’re such a slut, Sho.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He grumbled.

“Oh I know you know it. I just thought it needed voiced.” She smiled and gave him a little punch on the shoulder. “So what now? Are you actually going to make him work for it?”

“Of course I am.” He shot back defensively. “He’s been coming over nonstop for the past two weeks—bringing me gifts, rubbing my shoulders and feet after patrol. And he’s been playing paper every time, which I know means nothing to you, but basically I’m the only one of us who gets to come.”

Her jaw dropped. Natsuo was heading back from the bar, new drink in hand, and Shouto could tell he was curious about what Shouto could have said to stun her so much.

“You’re punishing him with orgasm denial!?”

Natsuo promptly turned on his heel and walked away from the table again, causing Shouto to roll his eyes. 

“I mean, I guess? But it’s not like it’s new for us.”

“That is both the best and worst thing I’ve heard all week. Well… as long as you don’t let him off too easily.”

“I’m not letting him off at all, that’s the point.” 

Hana snorted. Shouto could definitely see the humor in the situation, but in reality he just didn’t know another way to make Katsuki work for it. 

“And you don’t think that’s gonna scare him off again? He’s left the country before for less.”

Shouto paused to consider it. He knew better than to think things were suddenly sunshine and rainbows between them. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop, or maybe for another mirror to shatter. Anything to precede another seven years of bad luck for his love life, if it could even be called that.

But Hana’s question had merit, because there was only so long he could get away with keeping up their little game and edging the fuck out of Katsuki before it caused him to run away again.

Every day—every second—was another step. They were ascending toward a summit. Shouto knew there was something at the top, and soon they’d be there; soon they’d reach that culmination of tension and pent up energy, and when they fell from that precipice it was either going to be into ruin or, well... 

He was too much of a realist to say love, but maybe something close to it. 

Infatuation perhaps. 

He downed the rest of his drink and contemplated ordering another. Maybe Natsuo had the right idea. 

Hana’s question kept him company for the rest of the day. That single seed of realization which festered and grew through the rest of brunch and the farmer’s market and tea and visiting his mother. It was there when he picked up paperwork from the agency, flirting with the edges of his mind as he signed autographs and posed for pictures and made his way back home while night descended upon the city once again.

You’re going to lose him again if you keep this up. He’s going to run again. He’s going to resent you. 

Shouto shuffled into his apartment and took a deep breath, feeling the tell-tale tightness in his temples that spoke of an oncoming headache. 

He changed into sweats and dragged himself to the medicine cabinet to take as much pain medicine as was advisable, before plopping down into his favorite chair with a cup of coffee in hand. Fully caffeinated, of course, because he wasn’t above saying a decided fuck off to any chance of sleep that night. Though, he didn't make it very far into his self imposed wallowing before a familiar knock was at the door.

Familiar, because it was a very angry knock, if knocks could even be described as such. 

Shouto set his mug down and got up to let him in, blinking at the sight of a disgruntled Katsuki in front of him. 

“How was it?”

Katsuki pushed past him and huffed, banging his head against the wall in the entryway. Shouto watched him for a moment. He could work out the answer for himself in the line of Katsuki’s mouth and the slump of his shoulders.

So he’s doing about as well as I am.

“Fucking awful.”

He kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket, before dragging his feet all the way to the couch and collapsing face first into the cushions. 

Shouto closed the front door and went back to his spot, tucking his feet under himself and grabbing his coffee.

“What happened?”

Katsuki propped himself up on his elbows and huffed. 

“Shitty Hair somehow thought it was a good idea to make it a full fucking spectacle. So not only did half of our old fucking classmates show up, but the press did too. It took me a full fucking hour just to get from the front doors to my goddamned car.”

“Well that was bound to happen eventually, right? You’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding them till now, but it was only a matter of time before they found out you were back in Japan.”

Katsuki chose not to respond in favor of burying his face into one of the couch pillows and screaming out a slew of curses that would make Gordon Ramsey blush.

Despite his sour mood, Shouto found his lips ticking up at the corners. 

“Well that’s not dramatic at all.” 

Katsuki’s head popped back up with a glare, but there wasn’t as much heat behind it as there would have been back in high school, and the overall effect was much cuter than he intended. 

“What about you, peppermint? Your brother and his wife got back from their honeymoon today, right?”

Shouto warmed his coffee back up with his left hand and took a sip before nodding. 

“It was nice to see them. Hana’s still out to get you though.” 

Katsuki scowled. “Tell her to get in line behind the press. And Deku. And Shitty Hair, apparently.”

His stomach growled loudly and he pushed himself up from his heap of self-pity, heading toward the kitchen. 

“Tell me you went grocery shopping, pretty boy.”

Shouto set his mug down and walked over to the counter. “You know you don’t live here, right? Go get your own food.”

“Tsk,” Katsuki opened the fridge and began rummaging. “I’m just keeping you company, peppermint. Think of how lonely you’d be without me.”

Shouto rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to slam the refrigerator door shut on him. 

“I have a roommate for that.” 

Katsuki jumped and hit his head on the top shelf, cursing and falling back on his ass.

“The fuck you mean, you got a roommate!?”

“I meant what I said. I have a roommate. Or do you really think all of those shoes in the entryway are mine, or that I need a two bedroom apartment to myself?”

Katsuki seemed to be considering it, his brows pinched. He pulled out a container of rice balls and sniffed them before closing the lid again. 

“Well why the fuck have I not seen the asshole?”

Shouto sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because we work different schedules and I always kick you out before his patrol is over?” 

Katsuki squinted at him and pushed himself up off of the kitchen floor, throwing the container back before shutting the door.

“So he’s a pro hero, huh? You telling me I got competition? Tell me what agency he’s at, I just wanna talk.” He stalked forward, around the counter—coming face to face with Shouto.

He’s hot when he’s jealous...

Wait! No, shit. You’re not supposed to find that hot, Shouto. You’re allowed to have a roommate.

“Green isn’t your color, Katsuki.”

Except it really is.

“Fuck off. I’m not jealous of some extra.” 

He hooked a finger in the waistband of Shouto’s sweatpants and tugged him forward a little, squinting and tilting his head.

“Oi, who pissed in your soba? You seem off.”

“I’m waiting for—“ you to get tired of me. You to leave again. You to decide you don’t want me. “You to realize you have your own apartment, with your own food.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, his hands coming to rest on Shouto’s waist. His voice dropped to a gravelly purr, the kind of tone that had Shouto’s pupils dilating and his blood running hot. 

“What if I want you to be my food, sweetheart?” He looked at Shouto like he could devour him, like he wanted to devour him. “I still got seven years to make up for, don’t I?”

He lifted his hand between them, fingers curled into a fist. Shouto knew he was just planning on playing paper, the same way Shouto always played scissors. But Shouto could see it clearly now—that summit—and he knew they were there, if only because being so close to Katsuki always made him feel like he was falling.

You’re going to push him too far. You’re going to lose him.

Are you willing to let that happen?

Shouto placed his hand over Katsuki’s raised fist, gently nudging it down.  

“What are you—“

“Shh…” 

He slid his fingers to Katsuki’s wrist, feeling the thrumming of his pulse. Shouto then dragged them further—his delicate touch ghosting over toned muscles and across his cut collarbone, coming to rest behind Katsuki’s neck.

Katsuki shivered under his touch, eyes widening the closer Shouto got. 

The thoughts were back, Shouto’s own possessiveness making him want to lay claim to Katsuki, to make certain that he wouldn’t leave again. 

Shouto dropped his voice as well, letting his breathy words fan out over Katsuki’s slowly parting lips—a precursor to a kiss.

“You’re stressed. Let me take care of you.”

When Shouto finally pressed their lips together it was slow and measured. 

Unlike the other times, he wasn’t thinking about his anger or the sting of Katsuki leaving. The only thing he was focused on were the seven years of sexual experiences leading up to this moment, and damned if he wasn’t going to use every last trick he’d learned to keep Katsuki coming back for more.

Are you willing to let that happen?

Fuck no.

Katsuki melted at his touch, his body both willing and pliant.

Shouto guided him to the couch, gently shoving him down when the backs of his knees hit the cushions. He took his time stripping, putting on a show, feeling the weight of Katsuki’s gaze on his body. 

He fell to his knees and nudged Katsuki’s legs apart, slotting between them to unbutton his pants, dragging the zipper down with his teeth. 

He just barely made out Katsuki’s muttered ‘show off’ but he didn’t pay it any mind. 

Of course he was showing off. 

Shouto knew what to do, what men liked. He knew that Katsuki’s breath would hitch when he took him into his hand—could envision the widening of crimson eyes and the string of curses that would flow from his lips when Shouto swallowed down his half hard cock, lapping at his sack as he allowed Katsuki’s length to grown into his throat. 

“Holy f-fuck, that’s…”

Shouto swirled his tongue around the head, sucking and bobbing and loosening his jaw with practiced ease. He hollowed his cheeks and let his teeth lightly graze the delicate skin of his cock, taking pleasure in the little hisses and jolts he could elicit from Katsuki. 

He fisted his cool hand around the base of Katsuki’s length, pulling off with a wet pop and stroking him. A thin string of saliva connected him to the flushed head of Katsuki’s cock, and he ran his tongue over his swollen lips, maintaining scorching eye contact while slicking Katsuki’s velvety skin in a mixture of spit and precum. 

Before Shouto could bring him too close to the edge, he released him in favor of peeling Katsuki’s pants off the rest of the way. Shouto poured himself into his lap and tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Katsuki tore it over his head as if he couldn’t bear for his fingers to be touching anything other than Shouto’s exposed skin.

He slid them up his toned chest, to the column of his throat—calloused palms acting with more care and reverence than should have been possible given their nature. 

Shouto was grinding down against his spit-slick cock, sucking a line of marks into his neck like a collar or a tattoo. It was frantic and possessive, an overflowing of sensation that begged reciprocation.

Katsuki reached around and dipped a finger into Shouto’s tight heat, curling it and pumping in time with every roll of Shouto’s hips. Before long they were gasping against each other’s lips, three of Katsuki’s fingers splitting him open, preparing him for what was to come. 

Katsuki was holding him like he was delicate, like he was afraid to do more damage than he already had, like Shouto was the one in danger of running. His touch was searing against Shouto’s jaw, boiling inside of his body—a burst of overwhelming heat just below the surface of their skin.

Neither of them was a stranger to flame, but this was a different kind of inferno. It was basal and animalistic—friction and pressure and the slide of their bodies bathing them in ecstasy.

Shouto felt drunk off of it. Katsuki’s body was already quivering under his touch, the curl of his fingers becoming less controlled with every second. Their chests slid against one another, hearts pounding in unison as they approached that edge of combustion. 

It was always what they were. No matter how they changed, they would always be incendiary—less fire and gasoline, and more fire and a barrel of gunpowder—deflagration meets detonation. 

Sweat was beading on their skin by the time Shouto lined himself up and sunk down, taking Katsuki into his body as if the heat wasn’t already unbearable. 

Shouto’s thighs flexed as he lifted himself and then slammed back down, his chest heaving. He splayed his fingers over his own abdomen, looking at Katsuki through heavy lidded eyes.

“Fuck, it-it’s like you’re in my stomach, you feel so good...”

Katsuki’s grip on his hips tightened, his lips forming a devilish smirk. His cheeks and chest and the tips of his ears were painted the same red as his eyes.

“Yeah, you like it? Like me in your guts, baby?” 

He punctuated the question by trusting up into him like a punch. Shouto gasped and choked, his blunt nails digging into Katsuki’s shoulders as he repeated the motion, wet noises filling the room. 

“Love the way you sound... love the way your slutty little body takes me.” 

Shouto buried his face against Katsuki’s neck and rolled his hips, taking him to the hilt each time and focusing on the praise.

“I can never get it out of my head, you taking my cock, whining and begging like you need it.”

“I-I do… I’ve always needed it, Kat…” 

Katsuki growled and lifted him without pulling out. They stumbled through the hall, getting sidetracked periodically as Katsuki found furniture to fuck him over, walls to fuck him into. 

They were both panting and soaked in sweat by the time they fell into the bed, but Shouto wasn’t done with his mission quite yet. 

He flipped over onto his hands and knees, much like he had on the floor of the shower those few weeks prior, except this time he squeezed his thighs together, his cock pulled back and on full display.

Katsuki didn’t have to be begged to slam inside of him, but it didn’t stop Shouto from whining out a string of every filthy thing he needed Katsuki to use him for. 

Katsuki gathered his hair into one fist and tugged him back, fucking into him roughly, the sound of his hips meeting Shouto’s ass filling the room and spurring him on more. 

“Harder, fuck me, holy fucking shit, just like that!”

Katsuki did as he was told, each thrust more vicious than the last. Shouto couldn't get enough of it. 

“You just love it when I use you, huh? Fuck, tell me who you belong to!”

“You, sh-shit, Kat—only you!”

Katsuki cursed and grunted, as he continued to fuck the same way he fought.

The pleasure was blinding, Shouto’s hole wide open and slick to accommodate every inch of Katsuki’s thickness. His muscles were strung tight, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“D-dammit! You’re still so fuckin’ tight… ‘M close.”

“Come in me, please! Fuck, fill me up, fill my hole, make me yours!”

It was all Shouto could do to stop himself from coming too, even when Katsuki shoved his face into the mattress and pulsed inside of him. 

Shouto writhed under him as Katsuki rode out the waves of his orgasm, his cock pumping so deep that Shouto felt a fresh wave of heat in his core. 

The room was thick with the smell of smoke by the time they collapsed in bed next to one another. Shouto’s head was still spinning, his vision blurry and his length still rock hard and leaking.

Katsuki on the other hand looked to be blissed out and fully sated, his softened cock resting against his thigh, still slick from the remnants of his release. 

“That was fucking amazing,” Katsuki turned his head, a playful smile on his face. “Definitely in the list of top ten greatest fucks.”

Shouto turned over and swatted him. “Are you always this annoying after you come? I should have let you play paper.”

Katsuki lunged for him, rolling on top of Shouto and pinning his wrists. 

“Careful, pretty boy, or I’ll make you suffer and I won't take care of this little problem for ya.”

He reached between them to fist Shouto’s cock, and Shouto bit his lip, trying to force himself not to fuck into Katsuki’s hand.

“S-stop…” Shouto shook his head and Katsuki released him. “Don’t worry about me.”

Katsuki blinked down at him in confusion

“It… I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but when we do both get to come, I want it to…”

He felt his face heat, and he tried to look away, but Katsuki laughed and turned his head back. 

“No way. You gotta tell me now.”

“It’s embarrassing,” he deadpanned.

“Five minutes ago you were moaning about me using your sloppy little hole as a cum dump—“

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Shouto shoved him off and rolled on top of him, his hair hanging down like a curtain. “I cannot control the things horny Shouto says during sex, you have to live with that. And, I guess I just wanted the first time to mean something? I told you it’s stupid...”

“Hey!” Katsuki cupped his face. “That’s not fuckin’ stupid at all. And I’m willing to wait for as long as it takes you to feel like it’s time.”

“You mean you’re not gonna leave again if I don’t let you come?”

Shouto realized it was out of his mouth just a second too late, and Katsuki moved them again—this time so that they laid on their sides, face to face.

“So that’s what was bothering you.” Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear, and Shouto melted into the touch. “I told you I’m gonna work for this shit. You’re not gonna run me off that easily, asshole.”

Oh.

Shouto opened his mouth to respond but yawned instead, earning another laugh from Katsuki.

“I know, I know, time for me to get out. Get some sleep, pretty boy.”

“Wait.” Shouto grabbed his arm before he could finish getting up from the bed. “I’m not gonna kick you out this time. Stay or don’t. It’s up to you.”

“Is that so?”

Shouto nodded, blinking at him from his spot on the bed.

“Well then, I’m taking a shower. Wanna join me?” Katsuki smirked.

“I’ll only fist you if you want me to.”

Katsuki woke up slowly, his muscles aching and his arm numb as he blinked open tired eyes. 

Shouto was fast asleep, the sky still dark. The clock on the bedside table read just after four in the morning. 

Katsuki knew he needed to get home. Kirishima had plans to start setting up the offices at their new agency, but he wanted nothing more than to pull Shouto closer into his side and fall back asleep.

Arm circulation be damned; they could amputate for all he cared. 

Fucking adult shit… Shitty hair owes me.

Katsuki slid his arm free and stumbled out of bed quietly, borrowing a pair of baggy sweats and a T-shirt that barely fit over his chest and shoulders. He really hoped Shouto wasn’t partial to it; there was no way it was ever returning to the same size again.

Katsuki closed the bedroom door quietly, thankful for the tatami floor that muffled his footsteps. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Shouto, because one look from sleepy mismatched eyes is all it would take for Katsuki to say fuck setting up the office that day.

He was planning on grabbing his jacket and shoes and making a straight shot for the door, but a sound from the kitchen caught his attention.

The roommate.

Katsuki scowled and ran a hand through his hair, puffing his chest at the expense of Shouto’s shirt and readying himself to confront the fucker living with his… his… his something. 

He continued to silently pad down the hall, finally reaching the kitchen and standing in the doorway, waiting—in all his imposing glory—for the fucker to close the refrigerator.

Okay, think of something cool and intimidating to say. Make sure this asshole knows—

“Bakugou?”

Hold up...

“Tape arms?”

Sero stood up, closing the refrigerator door and setting the container of rice balls down on the counter.

“Huh… so you’re the new mystery guy.”

“What the…” Katsuki blinked and tilted his head. “The fuck you mean mystery guy?”

Sero took a bite of one of the rice balls and started to pour himself a cup of coffee. He was still wearing his hero suit, minus the helmet and boots. Katsuki remembered something about him being on graveyard patrols. It’s why he hadn’t been at the agency tour the previous day. 

“I’m not really a stranger to him having random hookups over, but I suspected it had been the same one the last two weeks. He doesn’t normally keep them around long enough for them to steal my food.”

Katsuki ignored the harsh sting of jealousy at the thought of Shouto having other guys in his bed in favor of the more harsh sting of Sero being his fucking roommate. 

“Tsk. Yeah it’s me. Some fucking mystery.”

Tape arms leaned against the counter and regarded him warily. It was strange to think they had been decently close back at Yuuei. 

It was less strange to think that they weren’t anymore.

But Katsuki could vividly recall carrying the fucker to bed on the night that he and Shouto began their arrangement. In a way, Sero had always been part of it, intertwined in all of the bullshit and drama whether he liked it or not.

“Everyone said you were back. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I think the last time we saw each other was—“

“Graduation.”

“Right…” Sero glanced away, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Graduation. We talked at the after party.”

Katsuki nodded. He could feel something poisonous coil in his chest, his tongue begging to be free from the chains of his brain-to-mouth filter.

“And how’d it go for you?” He bit out. “After we talked, I mean.” 

Sero’s responding laugh was strained, and he glanced at Katsuki’s neck, no doubt noticing the marks there. 

“I think you know how it went. I think you knew then how it was gonna go.” And then, as if an afterthought, “you tried to stop me, after all.”

He finally looked back up, something serious on his face that seemed so out of place from his normal, care-free demeanor. 

“I told myself the next time I saw you, I’d hit you.”

Katsuki thought—not for the first time—that the compulsion was mutual. 

“The fuck you waiting for then?”

Sero shook his head, eyes flickering to the hall. “Nah. Sho’d be pissed if I hurt his latest toy.”

“Why you fucking—“ He stalked forward, but Sero didn’t budge. He just sat there, leaning against the counter, his fingers flexing, muscles tense. 

It would have made it easier if Sero took a swing. It would have maybe made Katsuki feel more justified in his anger. 

“Go ahead, blast me if you’re gonna do it.” Katsuki felt his palms heat, itching to release his quirk, but they both knew he wouldn’t. Not without Sero making the first move. 

Not with Shouto down the hall. 

“I don’t really know what you did to get back on his good side, but I do know that you hurt him. You hurt him and then you fucking left and it was up to me and the others to pick up the pieces. Think long and hard about what you’re doing back, and what you want with him.”

Katsuki had to swallow down the bile in his throat, but he covered it with a scoff. 

“Did you really just give me the ‘what are your intentions?’ Speech, soy sauce face?”

“Call it what you want.” 

Sero shrugged, grabbing the container of rice balls and his coffee. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that if you hurt him again, I’ll string you up by your ankles and leave you hanging off of Skytree.”

Sero brushed past him toward the hall, shutting himself in his room, and Katsuki had to bite back a string of curses and threats if only to keep from waking Shouto.

He walked toward the front door to stop himself from doing something stupid. His jacket was still hanging up, and he fished his phone out of the pocket, noticing a text from Shitty Hair.

Hey man! We still on for office stuff at the agency today?? 🙏🥺💪🤜🤛

Katsuki looked back at the hallway, thinking about the shit Sero was spewing. He thought about the threat, about what his intentions really were. He thought about the cold shower they’d taken and washing Shouto’s hair again. He thought about falling asleep in each other’s arms.

He thought about graduation.

He thought about Shouto waking up alone.

You owe me a fucking rest day for dealing with the press. We’ll take care of it on Monday.

Katsuki hit send and threw his phone on the coffee table before walking to the room and crawling back into bed.

Shouto was back to crushing his arm before he even had time to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

“You stayed.”

Katsuki groaned and blinked against the sunlight spilling in from the window. He could feel the last vestiges of sleep still clinging to his brain like a slowly dissipating fog as the bed shifted, and Shouto’s disbelieving voice roused him from whatever dream he’d been having. 

Shouto leaned over him, his long hair falling in a messy curtain around them both. Katsuki gave him a sleepy smirk.

“You said it was my choice, gorgeous.”

Shouto’s cheeks flushed pink, the left slightly deeper than the right. 

Heh, cute.

“But you stayed… I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I said I’d work for it, didn't I? I said you mattered to me, and that I wanted this.”

Shouto’s eyes went wide and he buried his face against Katsuki’s chest.

“Oh my god, you’re not allowed to say stuff like that!”

“Why not?” He poked Shouto in the side. “Afraid you’ll fall for my fucking awesome personality and unparalleled good looks?”

Shouto picked his head up and shook it. 

“No, I’m definitely more worried about your unquestionable humility.”

His lips were curled up at the corners—eyes glittering like he had just woken up on Christmas morning. The sunlight caught his sleep-tousled hair at the edges, lighting it like a halo around his head, and Katsuki took in every little detail like a breath.

He ran the backs of his fingers up Shouto’s arm, tracing the porcelain skin all the way to his neck before pulling him down into a lazy kiss. He felt warmth flood his body when Shouto laughed against his lips and shifted to lie on top of him. Warmth like those first, precious days of summer and sweat beading on sun-kissed skin. 

Katsuki applauded himself for his decision to stay. He was certain that nothing would ever rival the feeling of waking up next to Shouto in the morning—to have his toned body so close, so attainable, that he could simply reach out and hold him. He almost wondered how he had gone so long without it.

Shouto pulled back a little to breathe, running his fingers through Katsuki’s hair and gazing down at him with a little pout.

“I really need to get to work…”

Katsuki shook his head and pulled Shouto back down, nipping his bottom lip and sliding a hand to his waist.

“No. Tell ‘em you’re fuckin’ sick or something.”

“I can’t, I never call in sick,” Shouto groaned.

“So that means you’re entitled to do it!”

Mismatched brows pinched together. “But what if something happens? Something I could have stopped?”

“Tsk, you really saying all the other heroes are that worthless?”

Shouto chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, no…”

“Good. Now call your old man and fake a cough—you’re mine for the day.”

Something unreadable flashed through Shouto’s eyes, but it was the only sliver of hesitance before he pulled his phone from the nightstand and began scrolling through his contacts. He laid his head back down on Katsuki’s chest with the phone on speaker, peppermint tendrils of hair tangling over Katsuki’s skin. 

Katsuki lazily sorted through the strands as they both listened to the phone ring.

“Shouto! Are you okay? You never call like this—“ Endeavor’s frantic voice burst from the speaker. Katsuki could practically feel Shouto roll his eyes. 

“Yes, I’m fine…”

Katsuki poked him in the ribs, and Shouto popped up from his chest. 

“I mean, no I’m not fine!” 

Katsuki had to suppress his snort as Shouto attempted a weird version of a cough. 

“I-I’m sick.”

“Sick? You never get sick! Let me make a call to Recovery Girl. You should go into the doctor, Shouto. It’s concerning that you were able to catch something with your temperature extremes. Have you been suppressing your left side again? Please tell me you’re taking care of yourself. Could it be a hangover? What other symptoms are you having? Call you sister, she’ll bring you some—“

“OH MY FUCK, I TAKE IT BACK, I’M NOT SICK!” 

The last shred of Katsuki’s composure snapped. Shouto shot him a venomous look, but even he wasn’t immune to the laughter, and soon they were both gasping for air to the tune of Endeavor’s very confused voice.

“Shouto, what’s going on? Is this some kind of a joke?”

“It’s—“ Shouto tried to suck in a breath. “This-this is your fault!” He wheezed, while poking Katsuki in the chest. 

“Why would it be my fault, Shouto? Are you with someone? What is the meaning of this?”

“Sup, old man? Long time no talk.”

Shouto’s eyes widened at Katsuki before he burst back into laughter. Katsuki could barely hear the resigned sigh over the sound of their combined amusement. 

“Shouto, are you truly sick or are you pretending to be sick so that you can spend the day with your boyfriend?”

Katsuki went still. His heart thudded against the confines of his chest. He was still a little dizzy from laughing as he waited with baited breath for Shouto’s answer—fully expecting something painful like a vehement protest. 

Instead Shouto hummed. 

It wasn’t an answer. 

“Which option gets me out of work today?”

Endeavor snorted. “Fine. Play your games, Shouto. I expect you back in on Sunday.”

Shouto scrambled for the phone, hanging up and doing a little victory dance. Or maybe it was a wiggle. Whatever it was, it was victorious and had Katsuki’s lips curling against his will.

“I had to get off the phone before he changed his mind.” He smiled at Katsuki and it was like sunshine and a shot of whiskey—warmth flowing through his veins, burning in all of the best ways. 

Shouto flopped back down on the bed, craning his neck to look up at Katsuki. His smile fell a little, brows coming together again like he’d never expected to make it that far.

“So… what do we do now?”

Katsuki smirked, rolling over on top of him and pinning his wrists. “Oh, I know exactly what we’re doing.”

“Stop! Fuck, Kat, holyshiiiiiiii—“

Shouto was going to die. He couldn’t take it. He was going to die and it was all Katsuki’s fault.

“Don’t be such a baby!”

“How about you don’t—LOOK OUT!”

Katsuki cackled and made the hairpin turn with ease as if the tail end wasn’t slipping over the pavement like a stone on still water. 

Shouto braced one hand against the dashboard and the other against the roof of the car, and grit his teeth as Katsuki accelerated into the next curve. 

I’m going to freeze myself to the seat, it’s the ultimate oh-shit handle—

“If you freeze yourself to the seat and ruin my leather, I’ll take it out on your ass!” Katsuki yelled over the throaty purr of the engine. 

Shouto clamped his eyes shut, which turned out to be a massive mistake with the way Katsuki was accosting the innocent mountain road with his driving. It was like a shot of gin directly into his bloodstream, making his skin flush and head spin.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to freeze myself to the seat if you stopped using the turbo every two seconds!”

Katsuki gasped and made another turn. “This engine is naturally aspirated, how dare you!”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!”

Katsuki made the last curve coming off of the mountain, rocketing out onto the straightaway leading back toward Musutafu. His hair was a mess, a feral smile cut across his face as his fingers flicked against the paddles on the steering wheel. Shouto hated how endearing it was. 

“Are you done driving like a psychopath? It’s time to eat.” 

Shouto was able to relax a bit into his seat now that his life wasn’t flashing before his eyes. They’d been at it since after breakfast—Katsuki taking them on every curving mountain road west of the city—and the day was creeping along in the unyielding way that only time could. 

“I’m an amazing driver, ice princess. It’s called being fucking assertive!”

“It’s called: you almost drove us off the side of a mountain,” Shouto grumbled, despite the fact that he’d been having a fair amount of fun. That is, as much fun as a person could have while flirting with certain death. 

“Tsk, that’s hurtful, peppermint. Now whaddaya want for food?”

Shouto’s stomach growled, his mind filled with the mouthwatering image of cool, buckwheat noodles. 

“S—“

“And don’t say fucking soba, I swear to shit.”

Shouto glared. “I wasn’t going to say soba,” he lied.

Katsuki snorted and lifted a single brow, his eyes still on the road. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really.” He crossed his arms. “I was going to say sushi.”

It was the first ‘s’ food that popped into his head. 

“Ughh, I don’t want sushi. What about steak?”

“Hmm. No… I want sushi now.”

“Steak.”

“Sushi.”

“Steak!”

“Scissors.”

“Rock,” Katsuki snapped without pause. 

Shouto huffed and turned to hide his smile, looking out the window as they cut across the landscape, the frozen countryside giving way to bustling city streets. 

“After we eat there’s somewhere I want to take you. It’s less shitty at sunrise, but sunset will have to do for now.”

Shouto hummed out a response. He didn’t know where Katsuki could possibly be planning on taking him, but as they pulled up to a small noodle shop that served neither steak nor sushi, Shouto thought that he didn’t quite mind where they went, so long as Katsuki was behind the wheel.

“How much longer?” Shouto asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Katsuki rolled his eyes and wrapped his fingers around the lazy bastard’s wrist without answering him. They both knew it was more of a childish complaint than a question, anyway.

“You know,” Shouto stepped over a rock and huffed like the hike was somehow more strenuous than fighting literal fucking villains day after day. “When I decided to take the day off, this isn’t how I pictured spending it.”

“What’s the matter, Strawberry Shortcake? You can run a marathon through the city if it means avoiding me, but I want to show you something, and suddenly you’re allergic to cardio?”

“I just fail to see the point in it. You made it seem like we were gonna spend all day in bed, and instead we’re god knows where—”

“I know where we are.”

“It’s freezing cold out.”

“You can regulate your body temperature, you fucking drama queen.”

“It’s going to be dark soon.”

“Yeah, so hurry the fuck up or we’ll miss it!”

“I don’t even know what we’re going to miss— ”

“Knees to chest, Peppermint!” Katsuki yanked Shouto forward. “You’re goddamned lucky I’m not dragging you out here for sunrise—which is better, by the way.”

“I’m taking Hanta’s advice next time and spending the day by myself...”

Katsuki snorted and threw a look over his shoulder. “He only said that at breakfast cause he was hoping you’d tell me to fuck off. What the hell’s up with you and tape arms, anyway?”

Shouto blinked and came to a stop. “What do you mean?” He asked warily.

“I mean, you didn’t tell me he was your roommate.”

“Oh.”

Katsuki turned around fully. It was getting dangerously close to sunset, but they were almost there, so they could spare a few moments. “And what the fuck’s up with you and not answering questions?”

“I just don’t know how to answer such an open ended question.”

Katsuki sighed and counted to ten in his head. “He’s in love with you, you know? I get that you’re about as dense as a block of osmium on your best day, but you gotta see it.”

Shouto’s cheeks flushed and he tore his eyes away from Katsuki. It was a few seconds before he spoke again, but when he did it caught Katsuki off guard.

“I know.” 

Shouto’s voice was soft, just barely audible above the gentle rustle of wind through surrounding trees. Katsuki couldn’t make sense of it. But then again, he’d long since given up on making sense of Shouto’s actions.

“So if you know, then why are you living with the guy?”

The look on Shouto’s face could almost be described as a grimace, but he masked it quickly. 

“It’s not like we ever see each other with our work schedules, but he’s still my friend.”

“He wants to be an awful lot more than friends, Sho.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed and he brushed past Katsuki like he was suddenly interested in the hike and knew where the hell they were going.

“You don’t know that.” Shouto didn’t look back at Katsuki when he said it. “I’m sure Hanta got over me a long time ago,” he added. 

Like a liar. 

“Really? Cause he gave me the shovel talk last night.”

Shouto’s steps faltered. It gave Katsuki time to catch up and take the lead. 

“I’m sorry. I can tell him to back off if—“

Katsuki grabbed Shouto’s wrist and dragged him down the path leading to the bridge, leaving no room for arguments. The last time he’d been here, it had been after a chaotic night of sleep-deprived pseudo-stalking, but it wasn’t difficult to remember the way.  

They reached the mouth of the suspension bridge just as the sun began to dip below the tree line. The frigid wind whistled through the ravine, skidding across ocean waves and bathing them in salty air. Katsuki didn’t have to drag him any longer. Shouto pulled away, brushing past the few lingering hikers to make it to the center of the bridge without Katsuki’s guidance. 

It wasn’t as spectacular as it was at sunrise—Katsuki thought—but the awestruck look on Shouto’s face and his slight breathless flush as he took in the view were more breathtaking than any sky could ever be. 

Katsuki didn’t watch the sunset. He couldn’t care less about the way the atmosphere scattered those final, lingering rays. Even after the sun had dipped well below the horizon, and the indigo sky illuminated them in starlight, he was loath to tear his eyes away from Shouto’s face.

Shouto let his eyelids flutter closed and breathed deeply. Foaming waves crested and crashed against the rock face below, swaying with the same lazy rhythm as the swinging suspension bridge. 

Shouto wasn’t complaining anymore. Katsuki hoped it had been worth it in his eyes. He wanted it to mean something. He wasn’t sure what, but he wanted this to be a memory. Something special and liminal, like a fissure in time and space reserved for the two of them that they could look back on. 

Like this it was easy to pretend that Katsuki had stayed, that he’d never let childish fears dictate his actions or make life altering decisions for the both of them. He wondered what they would have been had he stayed. Friends? Lovers? More? The imprints of those lost lives echoed off of the cliff sides, charging the air between them. 

Katsuki wondered if Shouto felt it to, the subtle hum of electricity. Something more intense than driving or falling or crashing ever could be. 

“Don’t tell him to back off,” Katsuki said, finally. “Tape Arms, I mean. I’m glad you had someone there for you when you needed them.” 

Their eyes met. Shouto was looking at him like Katsuki was a puzzle, something he wanted to understand but couldn't quite figure out. 

“Thank you.” Shouto’s voice broke the silence that had stretched back out between them. “For today. For staying the night, for convincing me to take off from work. For the soba, for dragging me out here.” He paused. “For not driving off a cliff…”

Katsuki swatted him but moved closer into the bubble of heat Shouto was radiating. 

“I mean it, thought. I had fun today. It makes me feel like...“

“—Like I never left?” Katsuki finished. 

Shouto slipped his hand into Katsuki’s, smiling down at their interlocking fingers. 

“Yeah, that.” 

They stayed on the bridge until the sky was an inky black and the temperature became unbearable, for one of them at least. 

“C’mon, pretty boy. S’late, time to get back.”

“Right… we have Shinsou and Kaminari’s wedding tomorrow.” 

Katsuki had nearly forgotten about the wedding, which was hard to do considering that the shitty fucking nerd wouldn’t stop texting him about not objecting during the ceremony. Katsuki was one more text away from storming to Deku’s agency and throwing him out of the nearest window. 

They turned to head back toward the car, but neither one made to pull their hands away. 

“You taking Shitty Hair as your date, again?”

Shouto hummed. “Ei is going with Izuku, so I was just planning on going solo. We’re all groomsmen anyway, so it’s not a big deal. What about you?”

“Tsk. Do I look like the type to bring a fucking date to a wedding?”

“Touché.”

The walk back seemed to take more time than the hike there, but Katsuki blamed it on the late February chill. Surprisingly, Shouto was rushing to get in the car just as quickly as Katsuki was, despite his inability to get cold. And as soon as the door was shut, he began sliding out of his jeans, much to Katsuki’s confusion.

“What are you—“

“Shh…” Shouto grinned and pulled them off the rest of the way before climbing over the center console, moving to straddle him. He brought his finger to Katsuki’s lips as he settled into his lap. “I want you. I want this. No more games.”

The air around them was quickly heating, the windows blurring at the edges. Shouto cupped the back of Katsuki’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, letting the heat build as their tongues tangled together. Katsuki’s cock swelled against the cleft of Shouto’s ass, and Shouto moaned into his mouth, rolling his hips in search of more friction. 

“Sh-Sho—fuck, wait!” Katsuki pulled back. They were both breathing heavily, the window already fogged over completely. “You said you wanted it to be special, but we’re in a fucking car!”

Shouto sat up straight, his hair a wild tangle. “What? You don’t want me to come around your cock while you come inside of me?” He leaned down and traced the shell of Katsuki’s ear with his tongue. “I’m still slick from this morning… I bet you could slide right in, Katsuki.”

Katsuki didn’t need to be begged. He growled and freed his cock, tugging Shouto’s underwear down just far enough to expose his entrance. Katsuki sank inside with a lewd squelch, the remnants of his earlier release leaking out from where they were joined. Shouto was hot, so impossibly hot. It was almost too much, but the way his greedy ass gripped Katsuki’s cock was like it needed to be filled.

Shouto braced one leg on the center console, the other between the driver’s seat and the door, and used it to lift himself and slam back down. Katsuki reached around to feel where his length disappeared into the wet cavern of Shouto’s body, his fingers tracing the stretched muscle, causing them to moan in unison. 

“I want to see you,” Katsuki breathed out. He pulled Shouto away from his neck, taking in the pretty flush that dusted from his cheeks and ears, disappearing into his shirt. 

This time, Katsuki didn’t leave any words unspoken—he didn't trust his body to say what needed to be voiced between them.

“I’m sorry…” Katsuki kissed him again and thrust up into him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Shouto’s breathing was shaky. His body sung under his fingertips like the finest instrument, but there was pain in his eyes, and Katsuki whispered apologies until it unraveled completely, replaced instead by euphoria. 

Their manic pace slowed until they were sliding together, a sensual joining, pressed close in the confines of the car like they couldn't bear being two separate entities. Katsuki held him to his chest and fucked into him, running his hands under Shouto’s shirt, tracing the fading marks like a roadmap of his possessiveness. 

His hands found the healing burns at Shouto’s waist, and he helped him rock his hips.

“K-Katsuki… please…” 

Shouto was fully crying now, his lips swollen and hair tangled. His body was gripping Katsuki so tightly it was almost painful, but there was a neediness in his tone.

“Do it… I need…”

His hands found Katsuki’s own, pressing them down against the burn marks and choking on another sob. Katsuki knew what he was asking for.

“I—fuck, are you sure?”

Shouto nodded vehemently and bit his lip, his muscles tensing, fingers flexing instinctively. He was close, Katsuki could tell from the way his hips stuttered and eyes rolled back. 

Katsuki groaned low in his throat and let his palms spark, diving forward to capture the scream that left Shouto’s lips as he shuddered and painted their stomachs with his release. There was no stopping it. Shouto’s body milked him, and Katsuki came like he was seeing god—spilling inside of him while the aftershocks of Shouto’s orgasm ebbed and flowed. 

The air was sticky and thick with the smell of sex and burnt caramel and mint and goddamned Moroccan Argan oil. It made Katsuki’s head spin like he was drunk off of his ass, and he pulled Shouto into another kiss, laughing against his lips at the absurdity of it all.

They’d always been like this, hadn’t they? Losing their virginities becasue of some dumb thing their drunk friends had said. Playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who got to come. Running though the city, hand in hand. Running away. Coming together for the first time in the driver’s seat of Katsuki’s Ferrari. 

“Hey,” Shouto said like an admonishment he didn’t quite mean. “Are you laughing at me?”

Smiles had never come easily to Katsuki, but the one that split his lips felt as effortless as breathing. 

“Nah. I’m laughing at us, Peppermint.”

The corner of Shouto’s lips twitched, and he looked down like he was taking them in: two horny twenty-five year olds covered in sweat and cum in a very public place. 

“Why do I feel like we were always going to end up here?” Shouto asked. His tone was fond, his mismatched eyes soft in the moonlight that penetrated the foggy windows. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe there was such a thing as destiny or soulmates or whatever the fuck else people wanted to call it. And maybe Katsuki first needed to run away to have something to run toward. 

“It feels a little like that, doesn’t it?” He answered with a sincerity he’d never before felt.

Shouto shifted in his lap. Katsuki’s softening cock was still inside of him, but neither made any move to pull away.

“Katsuki,” Shouto spoke his name like a benediction. “Let’s go together tomorrow.”

For a moment, Katsuki just blinked, trying to process the words. 

Tomorrow…?

“You mean like, drive together to the wedding?”

Katsuki vividly recalled Shouto’s attitude toward weddings. It was why he’d asked Shitty Hair to be his date to his brother’s. Katsuki remembered the words, as well. 

‘Why the hell would I bring an actual date to a wedding? So they can spend the entire time dreamy sighing and saying ‘aren’t weddings so romantic’ like I don’t know they’re asking for commitment I’m not willing to give?’

It had been a blunt way to put it, to say the least. Katsuki had thought it cold, but looking back, it had been just one more impact that his leaving had had on Shouto’s life. 

Could a few short weeks really be enough to mend those kinds of commitment issues? Surely, Shouto couldn’t be asking—

“I mean, go to the wedding with me,” Shouto repeated, and Katsuki felt his breath catch. “As my date.”

Chapter Text

“Your hair looks fuckin’ fine.”

Shouto glared at Katsuki from across the car and slammed his pocket mirror shut. 

“It does not look fine! It’s basically in a ponytail and there are already strands coming loose… the fashion magazines will have a field day with this.”

Katsuki snorted and sped through the yellow light. “You and I both know they’ll call it a new style. Next thing you know, everybody and their shitty fuckin’ mothers are gonna be wearing their hair like this until the next time they call you an unprecedented trendsetter.” 

Shouto’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

Katsuki nodded. “I did see that article, sweetheart. I was in America, not under a rock.”

Shouto groaned and resisted the urge to slam his head against the dashboard. “That was a bad hair day…”

“Tsk. I could tell. The press? Not so much. I swear people in Seattle were rocking frizzy buns for a month.” 

“Please stop talking. I don’t want to hear another word till we get to the wedding. Whose idea was it to go together, anyway?”

“That would be yours, Sugar Dick. And don’t blame me for telling it like it is.”

Shouto groaned as they pulled up to the front of the venue. The darkly tinted windows weren‘t nearly enough to ease the blinding pop of a hundred camera flashes. By then the press had caught on to exactly whose orange sports car was sitting outside of the ‘ Wedding of the Year’ according to Hero Weekly. 

He couldn‘t really say it hadn‘t been expected. Shinsou was an underground hero, but Kaminari well known, and had very extravagantly and very publically come out as pansexual by announcing their engagement three years prior. Since then, the couple had been pushing back the date periodically—hoping that the tabloids would lose interest in their impending nuptials. 

No such luck. Shouto thought with a grimace. 

“I don’t want to get out of the car,” Katsuki said after a beat.

“We’re going to have to.”

“But I really don’t want to get out of the car.”

Katsuki’s eyes were narrowed, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel tightening. No doubt he was remembering his recent run in with the press and practicing whatever calming techniques his therapist had taught him in his head. 

Shouto sighed and lifted his fist for show. They both knew what he was going to play, anyway. 

Katsuki blinked for a moment in confusion. “How are you even fucking thinking about sex right now, you—“

“Just shut up and play, Blasty.”

Katsuki scowled but did as he was told. 

Rock—once again—beat scissors. 

Shouto took a calming breath. “Okay, you win. Give me the keys and make a break for the door. I’ll distract them.”

Crimson eyes went wide. “You are not driving my fucking car! It can take years to become comfortable driving something with this much power. I’m not gonna fucking let you wrap yourself around a goddamned tree just because—“

Shouto rolled his eyes and cut him off by snatching the keys. 

“I’m not driving it, you drama queen; I’m checking it in with the valet! For the love of All Might, just trust me for two fucking seconds!”

Katsuki snapped his mouth shut with an audible click before mumbling something that sounded like fine.

They exchanged a look and reached for the door handles.

“On three.”

One.

Two.

Three.

Katsuki burst through the door and made it inside so quickly that Shouto could have sworn he used his quirk. Of course, it helped that the crowd of parasites stopped pursuing him once they noticed the number two hero standing by the car, making no move to escape. 

And then they swarmed.

“Hero Shouto! Hero Shouto!”

“Can you comment on Hero Dynamight being back in Japan?”

“Are you worried that he’ll threaten your spot on the hero charts?”

“Can you comment on the rumors that you were seen entering a love hotel with hero Creati?”

“Hero Shouto! Over here!”

Shouto forced his lips into something that halfway felt like a smile. He could immediately sense the oncoming headache. He turned in a circle, putting his back to the venue door and pointing toward a stocky man with a face like a badger. He’d been the one to mention the Yaomomo rumor. 

“Let’s start with you.”

The man smiled and straightened up, holding the microphone to his lips. 

“Can you confirm the rumors that you’ve been secretly dating Hero Creati?”

Simple and to the point. Works for me. 

Shouto looked around. There was a cold breeze through his hair, no doubt pulling more strands loose and tangling it till it appeared nearly pink. The crowd seemed to fade away around him, leaving only the microphone in his face.

There had been moments in his life—lines of demarcation. Shouto could always map the years out in terms of before and after. 

Before and after he was born.

Before and after his quirk had manifested.

Before and after the scar.

Before and after Yuuei.

Before and after Katsuki left.

He couldn’t help but think this was one of those moments. 

“I can confirm that I’ve been secretly dating someone,” the crowd went as silent as a still winter. “But it is not the hero Creati.”

Shouto cleared his throat. The press was crowding around to his front, all holding the microphones close. His path to the valet stand and door was free.

“Because,” Shouto stopped to breathe in the last few seconds of before. “I’m gay.”

The crowd exploded into an immediate—and frankly expected—frenzy. Shouto shushed them with a wave of his hands.

“Now if you will excuse me, I have a wedding to attend.” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Any and all questions regarding this announcement can be directed toward my secretary: the retired hero Endeavor.”

And then he ran.

“Where were you? I was starting to get worried.” Katsuki pushed himself away from the wall outside of Shinsou’s dressing room. 

Shouto smirked and slipped the valet ticket into his pocket. “I told you, I was orchestrating a distraction.”

“Tsk. I remember how good you are at those. How’d you make your old man’s life miserable this time?”

Shouto breathed a laugh and opened the dressing room door. “Let’s just say he should be expecting quite a few calls.”

Shinsou caught sight of them in the mirror as he shrugged on his suit jacket. “Well if it isn’t the wedding crasher himself. You here to preemptively object?”

“Fuck off, mind freak!”

“That’s not a very nice way to talk to me on my wedding day,” Shinsou shot back. 

“That’s enough, children.” Shouto patted Katsuki on the shoulder and motioned toward the door. “I need to get into my suit. Go grab a seat and I’ll see you after the ceremony.” 

Katsuki grumbled out his response and stormed off to the tune of Izuku’s “Bye, Kacchan!” 

“So,” Shinsou started once Katsuki was gone. “Is Nitro-princess the secret boyfriend you just mentioned to the press?”

Shouto paled and reached for his phone.

“No use,” Izuku said. “You’re already trending.”

His shoulders slumped. “That was fast… Kat’s gonna kill me when he finds out.”

“Thanks for putting those rumors to bed though,” Jirou swatted Izuku’s hands away from his tie and began fixing it for him. “I was getting super tired of people thinking my girlfriend was sneaking off to fuck you.”

“Yeah well, they’ve always been leeches. It was only a matter of time before they found out, right?” Shouto said.

He looked in the mirror and sighed. Even more strands had fallen out of his high ponytail. Shouto eyed his surroundings for scissors. He was only half serious about chopping it all off.

“Are you sure you’re okay, though?” Shinsou finished smoothing his hair and turned back toward Shouto. “I mean, when Denki came out it was pretty hard on both of us. Not just the attention, but the backlash. Not everyone is so progressive.”

“I’m fine,” Shouto answered honestly. “I’ve been dodging it for years. You all know I’m a private person, so it’s not really something I ever envision myself admitting publically, but…”

Shouto looked down at his left hand, curling his fingers into a fist as he’d done many times. “I want to be a hero that puts people at ease. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And if people like you and Kaminari, and Jirou and Yaomomo can use your platforms to foster a culture of acceptance and diversity then it’s about time I stepped the fuck up, too.” 

Shouto looked up. Shinsou and Jirou were smirking. Izuku was absolutely beaming.

Which left only one person...

“What a cute little speech.”

“Shut up, Monoma,” they all said in unison.

It was a beautiful ceremony. 

Kaminari cried, as did Izuku and Mina. Eijirou managed to forget the rings, but lucky for him, Hanta had noticed them in their dressing room. Monoma kept his mouth shut... for the most part. 

Katsuki didn’t protest, either; Shouto was privately convinced he’d do it out of spite when their eyes all slid to him during the objections part of the ceremony. 

And the pictures went well enough. The group photos did, at least. Kaminari and Shinsou were still dealing with the photographer and their exhaustive list of poses while the rest of them had been directed to the reception.

Katsuki and Shouto on the other hand...

“What the fuck are you—“ 

Shouto cut him off by shoving him into the small janitor’s closet outside of the reception hall and crashing their lips together. For all of his confusion, Katsuki gave as good as he got, sucking Shouto’s bottom lip between his teeth and then gently biting down. 

They could hear the music pumping from the DJ booth that Jirou must have commandeered from Present Mic given the song choice. It would provide some noise coverage for a clandestine quickie. 

“C’mon, Blasty… we have a few minutes before anyone notices we’re missing.” 

Katsuki cupped Shouto’s ass through his slacks and squeezed while trailing his tongue from his neck to his ear. “Let me guess, you orchestrated another distraction?” Katsuki whispered. 

Shouto bared more of his throat and breathed a laugh. “Didn’t h-hah have too… Monoma is a big enough distraction by himself.”

Katsuki responded with a snort and dropped to his knees, tugging Shouto’s pants down as he went.

“Fair enough.” 

There wasn’t enough light for Shouto to see what Katsuki was doing. He felt his cock spring free as his underwear were also pulled off and discarded. He half expected to feel hot, wet lips wrap around him, so when Katsuki threw one of Shouto’s legs over his shoulder and then the other, he yelped. 

“What are you— oh fuuuuuck….”

Katsuki pinned him to the wall and buried his face in the cleft of his ass. Shouto moaned out a long string of curses as Katsuki licked a stripe across his hole, keeping him raised by sheer strength alone. Shouto let his eyes flutter closed and carded his fingers through Katsuki’s hair, getting lost in the feeling of his skilled tongue thrusting inside. 

He took his time prepping Shouto, making sure his ass was slick and pliant, working his fingers in and twirling his tongue. Shouto nearly came like that, his cock neglected and Katsuki’s tongue buried inside of him, but Katsuki must have known he was close, because he pulled away to nip at his inner thigh.

“Don’t come yet, Sho. I wanna take you apart on my cock.”

Katsuki gently lowered him to the floor. Shouto’s legs wobbled, and he had to brace his hand on a shelf when Katsuki spun him to face the wall. Shouto’s cock twitched with anticipation at the sound of Katsuki’s buckle being undone. He felt empty, so fucking empty. Shouto didn’t think he would ever get enough of Katsuki. It was no mystery as to why he’d chased after that same high for so many years—spreading his legs for poor imitations of everything Katsuki could give to him.

Katsuki spit into his hand and slicked his cock. The blunt head pressed to Shouto’s rim, dipping in slightly before sliding past to nestle between his thighs. Shouto let out an impatient huff. 

“C’mon, Kat, stop teasing...”

“Then tell me how bad you want it, princess.”

A muscle worked in Shouto’s jaw. Katsuki slid the tip of his cock back across his waiting entrance. 

“I need it,” Shouto said in the most monotone voice he was capable of. 

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Not good enough.”

This time, he put more pressure as he glided over his spit-slick rim, and Shouto had to bite back a moan. He cursed and tried to fuck his hips back, only succeeding in burying Katsuki’s cock back between his thighs. 

“Just fuck me already, we’re running out of time!” 

Katsuki grabbed hold of Shouto’s ponytail, yanking his head back and forcing his neck into a painful arch. “Is that how you talk to the guy you’re secretly dating?”

Oh shit.

Looking back, Shouto might have said it out loud. It was hard to focus on anything else when Katsuki’s thick cock was splitting him open without warning. Shouto felt the hot sting of tears at the corners of his eyes as Katsuki bottomed out and tugged him back by the hair. It was perfect. 

Shouto’s body quivered around him, his hole dilating to accommodate the new intrusion. This was the part Shouto would never get tired of. Well , this and the way heat bloomed deep in his stomach whenever he was filled with cum. 

Katsuki pulled out entirely and Shouto’s muscles contracted like he hadn’t just been stretched to the limit. A bottle of cleaning solution fell off of the shelf he was clinging to when Katsuki slammed back inside. It was all Shouto could do to remain upright as he was fucked into oblivion. 

Shouto’s body sung with every powerful thrust, his mouth hung open on a silent cry. He arched his back so that Katsuki could fuck him harder, deeper. Shouto wanted to feel Katsuki between his hips for days, and he told him as much—breathing out a ragged plea that may or may not have been coherent. 

Katsuki let go of his hair and wrapped an arm around his waist, using his free hand to cover his mouth so he could continue fucking him into the wall of the small closet. 

Shouto felt wide open, his body stretched around Katsuki’s cock. Ever minuscule movement, from the repeated abuse of his prostate to the shelf edge cutting into his palm had him hurtling toward his orgasm like he had a goddamned speed quirk. 

Shouto gasped against Katsuki’s hand and braced his foot on the lowest part of the shelf, opening himself up wider to take Katsuki to the base. Shouto knew he’d be sore afterwards, but Katsuki’s cock filled him so perfectly that he welcomed it, begged for it even. 

Katsuki stopped covering his mouth and squeezed his hips with bruising force, fucking into him as he tugged Shouto back. The slapping sound of skin, Katsuki’s harsh grunts, and Shouto’s choked moans were deafening in the tiny space. Shouto was sure that anyone walking by the supply closet would be completely aware of what they were doing and who was doing it despite the loud music.

The smell of sweat and sex was intoxicating. Everything about it was frantic and rough and almost clumsy. It reminded Shouto of their earlier trysts—reminded him of being young and dumb and consumed by one another. 

“Fuck, I’m close…” Katsuki buried his face in Shouto’s neck, fucking into him more shallowly so that the fat head of his cock rolled back and forth across that bundle of nerves inside of him. 

“I-in… inside…” Shouto begged. He was close too. He needed to be filled, for Katsuki to lay claim to him. He always needed it. 

Katsuki groaned and came inside of him, warmth flooding Shouto’s stomach as he was pumped full. Katsuki reached around, stroking Shouto until he was painting the wall and spilling over Katsuki’s knuckles with a broken whimper. 

They stayed like that until their breathing evened out. Katsuki pulled out with a groan and fumbled for the light switch.

“Shit, this was a terrible idea. We’re fuckin’ filthy,” he said after their eyes adjusted. 

Like it wasn’t glaringly obvious.

Shouto grabbed his underwear from where they were hanging on a mop. “Good thing we’re surrounded by cleaning supplies, then.” 

Katsuki shot him a look but took advantage of their surroundings, grabbing a hand towel to wipe his fingers and then using it to dab at Shouto’s soiled suit jacket. 

“Forget about it, I’ll take it off at the reception anyway.”

Together, they rushed to get clean and work Shouto’s hair into something passable. When they were done Shouto reached for the door and cautioned a look outside. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just fuck in that closet,” Shinsou said in a tone that suggested he was prepared to be dissapointed. 

Shouto’s cheeks heated at the sight of the happy couple. From the looks of it, they had just finished with photos and were getting ready to enter the reception hall.

Kaminari laughed and tugged the door open to reveal Katsuki. 

“Not cool man, we had claimed this closet for ourselves!” 

Katsuki and Shinsou flushed a shade of red to rival Eijirou’s hair.

“Oh relax,” he added. “I was joking. C’mon it’s not a good wedding if nobody sneaks off to have a quickie. This means our wedding is already a hit!” 

Shinsou scratched his neck and looked down at his husband. “I don’t think that’s what that means, Kitten...” 

Kaminari leaned in conspiratorially. “Pssst. Use our entrance as a distraction to sneak back in. Nobody will notice!”

Shinsou wrapped an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “He’s right. We’re supposed to go in the southeast entrance. If the two of you sneak in the southwest entrance at the same time, nobody will notice.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” yellow brows came together. “I thought we were supposed to go in the southwest entrance?”

“Nope,” Shinsou popped the P like gum and shook his head. “Southeast. I’m sure of it. There’s gonna be a spotlight and everything.”

Shouto exchanged a look with Katsuki. Katsuki nodded.

“Okay, we’ll follow your lead, then.”

They split off at the end of the hallway, Kaminari and Shinsou going right, Shouto and Katsuki going left. They reached for the handles together. Shouto smoothed his hair one last time.

Katsuki turned the knob at the same time Shinsou did. The doors opened. The music stopped. The spotlight flared to life.

Landing directly on the southwest entrance—illuminating Katsuki and Shouto in all of their post-sex glory. 

Shinsou was the first to laugh.

“I hate him so fucking much,” Katsuki seethed as he plopped down at the table. 

Shouto was vacillating strangely between the need to laugh and the need to crawl out of his skin. He settled on pilfering an entire bottle of champagne and chugging half of it in one go. 

“Oh come on, Kacchan. You brought that on yourselves.” 

Izuku laughed and slapped him on the back. Shouto half expected to hear the sound of an explosion. Or maybe several. Instead, Katsuki grabbed the bottle from him and took a swig. 

Eijirou and Hanta came to sit them at the table, too. Likely to join in on what had morphed from a wedding to a roast. 

“That was brutal, my dudes,” Ei said with a wince. 

“Yeah, I fucking know. Thanks for pointing it out, Shitty Hair.”

“Hey man!” Eijirou threw his hands up. “Don’t go snapping at me. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it in your pants till you got home.”

Katsuki turned his scowl on Shouto. “This is your fault.”

“Takes two to fuck in a closet, Blasty. Don’t blame me for this.”

Hanta spit his drink back into the glass. Izuku and Eijirou burst back into laughter. Shouto found himself joining in and finishing the bottle. The champagne was doing wonders to ease the sting of embarrassment. For him at least. Katsuki still seemed as prickly and acidic as ever… 

“You’re like a pineapple,” he said without meaning to.

Katsuki squinted and leaned in. The dancing had started, drawing everyone’s attention away from them, finally. Shouto was grateful for it. 

“Are you drunk already, princess?”

Shouto didn’t answer. He didn’t really feel drunk. Just lighter. He turned to look at where the happy—and devious—couple were fumbling through their first dance. They looked sweet.

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Shouto asked.

Something unreadable passed over Katsuki’s face. Shouto may have called it surprise if he didn’t know any better.

“I—“

“Hey Bakubro, I wanna talk to you for a sec!” 

Katsuki closed his mouth and looked from Shouto to Eijirou and back again.

“Umm,” he fidgeted in his seat. When did Katsuki start fidgeting? “I’m gonna go see what Shitty Hair wants. You just… stay put. Okay?”

Shouto nodded and watched him go. He stared at the door long after they’d left, no longer paying attention to the couple or the other guests. His stomach was churning with something caustic. It got worse the longer he sat. 

He couldn’t quite place what he was feeling. Loneliness? Fear? Dread? It didn’t make sense, but it was familiar. Shouto tried to think back on the last time he felt this way. It had been months, no... years, actually. Back before hero work, it must have been—

Graduation.

Shouto shot up from his chair, nearly knocking the empty champagne bottle off of the table. Izuku gave him a confused look. 

“Are you okay, Shochan?”

“I—“ 

Am I okay?

“I’m fine,” he reassured. “I just need some air.”

Shouto made his way out of the reception hall. He was about to head toward the exit when he felt a slight chill. There were glass doorways lining the hall, leading out to balconies that were closed off due to the late winter chill. One of them must have been opened.

He turned toward the source of the cold, walking slowly to keep his head from spinning. There were hushed voices that got louder the closer he crept. 

“I don’t know man…”

It was Eijirou, which meant—

“You don’t have to fucking know. I already told you, it’s not happening.”

Katsuki sounded mad. Or maybe just annoyed. It was hard to tell from his voice alone.

“Don’t be like that, bro. I’m telling you this as a friend. If you care about him, I think you should tell him.”

“And I’m telling you this as someone who doesn’t give a fuck! The Peppermint and I are finally fucking good. I’m not gonna bring up the past and ruin shit.”

“But Shouto’s always gonna wonder why you left. If you’re serious about him like you say you are, then he deserves to know.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, and he plastered himself to the wall just out of sight. His heart was hammering in his chest, his breathing shallow. They were talking about graduation. They were talking about him.

“And what happens if he finds out from someone other than you?”

“The only way he’s gonna find out is if you fucking tell him! That’s what the goddamned favor was about. You know, the one you used to drag me back to this fuck-fest?”

“Just…” Eijirou sighed. “Consider it okay? I think being honest with him will go a long way.”

“Honest? And how honest should I fucking be? ‘Oh sorry, Halfie, you’re the reason I left in the first fucking place?’ Or should I just straight up say it’s cause I couldn’t stand the sight of him—“

Shouto ripped himself away from the wall and out of earshot. His stomach lurched, threatening to spill champagne all over the expensive carpet. He stumbled toward the exit, feeling for the first time just how sober he wasn’t.

All this time it had been him. All of those nights he has spent awake, wondering if the fault had lied with him. If he had been the reason Katsuki left. 

It was all true. Every doubt. Every insecurity. How could he have allowed himself to trust? To hope that things could be different? 

Shouto wiped his cheeks. His hands came away wet. 

Katsuki left for no other reason than he couldn’t stand the sight of him. 

Shouto felt his chest tighten. It was like he was drowning. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. There was the whistling of a kettle. 

His left side is unbearable to me. 

Sir? Sir!

Shouto was pulled back into the present by a hand on his back. He was outside on the front steps of the venue. There was a man standing next to him. The valet from earlier, he recognized.

“Sir, are you okay?”

“I… yes, I’m fine,” he lied. “It was just an emotional ceremony.”

The man gave him a soft smile. “Understandable. Will you be going home now?”

He held up a set of keys. 

Katsuki’s keys.

“It’s the orange 812 Superfast, correct? I remember you checking it in.”

Katsuki’s precious fucking car.

Shouto nodded.

Driving, as it turned out, was both easier and more difficult than he thought it would be. 

It wasn’t necessarily that shifting was all that bad—Shouto was good at parallel processing, and he’d paid attention when Katsuki was doing it—it was just that the controls were touchy. A mere whisper against the pedal had the car racing forward. A twitch of the steering wheel could force it into a hairpin turn. 

He could almost hear Katsuki telling him to pull over. Shouto rolled the windows down and sped up just to drown out his voice. 

The wind was biting cold, even to Shouto’s standards. It didn’t help that he wasn’t warming himself. Shouto didn’t feel like there was any room for warmth. He wished that he could ice himself over, to numb all of those confusing and painful emotions clouding his head and stabbing him in the chest. 

The city was slipping by. The wedding was a distant reflection in his rear view mirror. The sky was inky black and blanketed in clouds. How fitting that the stars would abandon him too.

Shouto noticed the sharp turn coming up and he sped into it like Katsuki had done the day before. The wind howled in his ears, the engine was deafening. 

There was always before and after. 

Time slowed down. Fragments of memories flooded his vision.

A dorm room. A bottle of oil. Running through the city. Katsuki staying the night.

‘You are not driving my fucking car…’

He saw the patch of ice before he felt the wheels slide. 

Shouto really should have listened to Katsuki.

Chapter Text

A cool breeze rippled through the stadium, the last vestiges of winter still clinging to the air. Katsuki tuned out the speaker, looking around at the thousands of people watching, thinking about how many more were sitting at home—eyes trained on their screens, witnessing the newest generation of heroes take flight. 

Class 3-A stood in a series of four lines in front of the raised podium. It reminded him of the way they sat in school, with invisi-chick in front of him and the damn nerd behind him. Which meant that, if Katsuki turned his head and strained his eyes, he could just catch Shouto in his periphery. 

Uncertain, ever-changing, mischievous, stunning Shouto. 

Katsuki’s stomach did an infuriating little flip and he cursed his own ability to keep his feelings in check. It wasn’t like he was some love-struck lead in a shoujo manga, it was just that… sometimes , Katsuki thought, looking at Shouto felt like water.

Which didn’t make sense when he tried to rationalize it in his mind, but Katsuki was so oftenly rational that he could maybe forgive his hormonal teenage brain for this one, tiny slip up. 

He would not, however, forgive his heart. The stupid fucking thing. 

“—And with that, congratulations graduates!”

Cheers erupted around the stadium, pulling Katsuki’s attention away from Shouto’s stoic frame. 

He looked down at the diploma in his hands. A sheet of paper; his entire high school experience—from being targeted by the League of Villains, to kidnapped, to almost killed—reduced down to a singular symbol of accomplishment. 

How underwhelming.

Afterwards, Katsuki and all of his classmates crowded about the dorms with their families, celebrating being real heroes as if they hadn’t been already. His own parents wandered off in search of auntie Inko, and Katsuki took the opportunity to slip out of the common area and head back up to what had been his room for the past three years. 

It was strange to think that it would be his last time in the dorms. He’d already moved his belongings out the day before, but it hadn’t truly sunk in until that moment. The door was innocuous, the walls bare, the sheets meticulously tucked with hospital folds. Unlike some of the rooms, it didn’t look lived in at all, but Katsuki knew better. 

He sat down on the bed, remembering the way Shouto had fucked him into the very same mattress just weeks before—how he hadn’t been able to come through two of Shouto’s orgasms, and then again, later, a hot tongue pressed to his entrance, a cock in his throat. Future generations of hero hopefuls may not know what had transpired within those four walls, but Katsuki would always have the memories. 

“Congratulations.”

Katsuki looked up in confusion at the familiar voice. Endeavor stood in his doorway, glancing around the room with mild disinterest. Katsuki narrowed his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said, if only because he didn’t know what else to say.

Endeavor stared down at where carpet met hardwood: the separation of Katsuki’s room from the hallway. “May I come in?”

For a second, Katsuki wondered if the bastard was there to talk about Shouto, but he quickly discarded the thought. If Endeavor knew anything about Katsuki fucking his son, he surely wouldn’t be calmly asking to enter his dorm.

“Do what you want.”

“It was a nice ceremony—“

“What’s this about?” Katsuki interrupted. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. Least of all from the number one hero. He would have stayed downstairs otherwise, resigned to mingling with his parents and people he didn’t give a shit about. 

Endeavor looked taken aback for a moment before he recovered. “I came to ask about your plans for work. I know you interned under Best Jeanist this last year, but I spoke with him, and he suggested you hadn’t made a commitment to his agency.”

“Is this you offering a job, hot stuff?”

Crimson brows drew into a line. 

“In a manner of speaking.” He sat down next to Katsuki on the bed, and it creaked under his weight. “I have some contacts in America who are looking to take on another hero. No sidekick work. This is the big leagues.”

“Not gonna offer it to your son?”

It was out of Katsuki’s mouth before he thought about it. Endeavor gave him a look.

“…Shouto will be taking over at my agency,” he said, after a pause. 

“So why not offer it to Deku?” 

“Because, I’m offering it to you.”

Katsuki stared at him for a moment. 

An act of kindness, or a way to get me out of Japan? Maybe the bastard does know about me and his son…

“America, huh? It’s a big place last I checked.”

“That it is,” Endeavor conceded. “You’ll be operating out of one of the major cities. NYC most likely, but they’ll assign you on arrival.”

“Which is…?”

It wasn’t that Katsuki was actually considering it. He was just curious is all. 

“That’s… flexible. You can leave as early as you’d like, but I’ll need an answer by the end of the month.” 

Katsuki opened his mouth to turn it down when another, even more familiar voice interrupted. 

“Katsuki? You up here? Everyone is looking for—“

Shouto stopped in the doorway and looked between the two of them in confusion. 

“What’re you doing up here?” He asked his father. 

“Just congratulating your friend,” Endeavor said easily and then stood up. 

“I’ll see you at home this evening, Shouto.” Then he turned back toward Katsuki. “Give it a thought, I’ll be awaiting your response.” 

Neither Shouto nor Katsuki made a sound until Endeavor had left the room. 

“What was that about?” Shouto said at the same time Katsuki asked: “So, you’re done avoiding me?”

Shouto looked away. Katsuki snapped his mouth shut. 

Things between them had been… weird to say the least. He couldn’t help but think it had started the night they’d heard Pikachu and Shitty Hair fucking, and Shouto had raced out of his room. But if Katsuki had had any doubts the weirdness he was feeling was indeed Shouto keeping his distance, then the guilty look on the bastard’s face would have stamped them out. 

“I’m sorry,” Shouto eventually muttered out. His left cheek was dusted with pink that hadn’t yet worked its way to his cooler half. “I’ve been sorting through some things. Didn’t really want to drag you into any bullshit.”

Katsuki looked down and picked at a piece of lint on his pants. “Isn’t that the point of this-this thing we have going on, though?” He looked up at Shouto, then. “If you were stressed about shit, you should have come to me.”

Shouto bit his lip and looked down at the entrance to Katsuki’s room. The gesture reminded Katsuki of Endeavor, but he’d never say that to Shouto’s face. 

“Can I come in?”

“You know you don’t have to ask, asshole.”

The tension between them was thick and sticky. Katsuki could almost feel the resistance as Shouto forced his way into the room and shut the door behind him, leaning against the wood like he couldn’t bear to be any closer. 

“You say that like any of this is simple, Kat.”

No, Katsuki agreed privately. That it is not. 

“Don’t think you can trust me?” He prodded, instead. 

Shouto shook his head. He was still plastered to Katsuki’s door. “I think maybe I trust you a little too much.”

“And…?” Katsuki fished. “Is that what all this shit is about?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Shouto clipped. 

“You’re so fucking frustrating sometimes, princess.” 

“I could say the same about you.”

Katsuki shook his head and stood up. The increased tension did not go unnoticed by either of them.

“What are you doing here, Peppermint?”

“Why was my father here?” Shouto asked instead of answering the question. 

Katsuki thought about the job offer and what it would mean for their… whatever they had going on. Something inside of him soured at the idea of it. Dammit, he wanted more. No matter how their arrangement started, it didn’t change the fact that his feelings had evolved well past a desire to release stress, and were now firmly in the zone of Katsuki you fucking idiot, you weren’t supposed to catch feelings for the guy. 

He shrugged.

“Your old man said it,” he lied. “Congratulating me or some shit. Thinks cause I interned with him once, he gets to treat me like a protege.”

Shouto gave him a look like he didn’t believe it for a second, but the skepticism in his mismatched eyes quickly gave way to panic as Katsuki stepped toward him. 

Shit, maybe Shouto didn’t want this. Were Katsuki’s feelings really so one-sided? Or did Shouto’s sudden apprehension stem from the same insecurities Katsuki was feeling? He wished it wasn’t so fucking hard to tell. 

I could always just say fuck it and confess… treat this like I treat any other challenge, like a wall that needs reduced to dust. 

Katsuki turned the idea over in his mind. Best case scenario? Shouto was into him too. They kissed and fucked and held hands and went on dates and whatever other sappy shit you were supposed to do when you were dating.

Worst case?

Shouto laughed, or looked on in disgust. ‘Me? Want to be with someone like you? I always knew you were full of yourself, but I didn’t think you were also delusional. Don’t make me sick.’

Katsuki swallowed. 

They were close now. Shouto stared at him like he couldn’t decide between bolting or melting into the floor— always such a flighty bastard— and Katsuki boxed him in against the door with his arms, shoving any ideas about confessing back into a closet next to every other truth that would never see the light of day.

“Tell me you don’t want this arrangement,” he breathed into Shouto’s space. Eyes like glaciers under a cloudy sky widened; his breath caught. Katsuki saw the fluttering of his pulse in his neck and the way the pink finally bloomed across his right cheek. 

Katsuki tilted his head and closed the space between their lips to no more than a centimeter. This was, in some ways, the easiest part: giving himself over to physicality. He didn’t have to think about why Shouto reminded him of water when he was focusing on heat around his cock or the stretch of being fucked open. 

He brought one hand to Shouto’s neck, feeling the jump of his pulse beneath his fingertips. 

“Tell me it’s not why you’re here, and I’ll leave you alone,” Katsuki finished.

“I-I can’t…” he whispered back. Neither of them was breathing. For the briefest of moments, Katsuki thought that this was the moment Shouto would see through him and reject him.

“I can’t tell you that, and you know it,” Shouto finished. 

If asked later, Katsuki wouldn’t be able to say which of them initiated the kiss. He tightened his grip on Shouto’s throat and pressed into it. There was a hand in his hair, a tongue sliding along the seam of his lips. Katsuki lifted Shouto and pulled him away from the door, throwing him onto the bed and tugging his own shirt open. 

Shouto stripped quickly as well, kicking his pants down around his ankles and taking little care with the buttons on his shirt. Katsuki dove down, flattening his tongue and running it from Shouto’s stomach to one of his pert nipples. He sucked the pink bud into his mouth, gasping and flicking his tongue as Shouto’s hands found purchase in his hair again. 

They slid together in a mess of hunger and want and need . Chests heaving, sweat beading, pupils blown wide. Katsuki’s cock strained against his boxers, leaving a damp patch against the fabric. Shouto groaned and pulled Katsuki up until he was straddling his hips. He dug his fingers into the cushion of Katsuki’s ass and spread him, rutting up against his cloth covered entrance. 

They pulled apart just long enough for Shouto to play scissors and Katsuki to play rock, and then Shouto was flipping them and pinning Katsuki to the bed, spreading his legs the way he had the night Katsuki had bottomed for the first and only time. 

Shouto tugged Katsuki’s boxers down past his ass and teased his opening with a cool hand, his eyes dark with promise. 

“Lube?” He asked between desperate kisses. 

Katsuki shook his head.

“Packed it already…” 

Shouto pressed against his perineum and Katsuki cursed. 

“F-fuck me dry,” he demanded. 

“Kat, I can’t—“

“Use spit or something, fuck, just—“ Katsuki moaned and pressed into his hand. “Just fucking fuck me!”

Shouto didn’t have to be told twice. He spit on his hand and then circled Katsuki’s rim—one long finger sliding inside. Katsuki’s back arched, and he hooked an arm under his knee, spreading himself wider.

“You know,” Shouto said in the same voice he might use to discuss the weather. “I was thinking I prefer taking cock to giving it, but seeing you like this…”

He curled the finger, and Katsuki choked on a moan. “Seeing you like this makes me wonder.”

Katsuki’s head spun; the room was growing hotter by the second—the air made thick and humid from the steam ribboning out of Shouto’s lips. 

“M-more,” he rasped, and Shouto obliged by diving down and shoving his tongue in alongside another finger. 

Katsuki tangled his hands in Shouto’s hair and rolled his hips against his face in a rhythmic motion. Shiny drops of precum beaded at his slit and dripped onto his stomach, his cock bobbing with impatience while Shouto prepared him with his tongue and fingers. 

The world shifted on its axis, as Shouto curled them against his prostate. Katsuki felt his balls tighten and his muscles tense. He wanted to come so badly, but Shouto pulled away, removing his fingers and spitting on his cock instead of pushing him over that invisible edge. 

Shouto lined up and began pressing in, holding Katsuki’s knees to his shoulders. There was a slight burning stretch as it split him open, but Katsuki was so desperate for it that he welcomed the sting. 

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

Shouto folded him further in half and rocked forward, punching the breath from Katsuki’s lungs as he bottomed out. Katsuki reached for anything he could to brace himself—the sheets, the headboard, Shouto’s shoulders. Shouto pulled out slowly, every vein and ridge teasing Katsuki’s walls. 

“Holy fuck, that’s… shit…”

“If you don’t control yourself, everyone downstairs might hear,” Shouto taunted. He slammed back in with a single, rough thrust and Katsuki clung to him, letting out an obscene moan. 

“Or do you want them to hear you? Do you want them to know what I’m doing to you?”

Katsuki most certainly did not want his parents and Endeavor and everyone else knowing what they were up to, but the only reply he was capable of was a strangled noise as Shouto pulled out completely and plunged back inside. 

Shouto braced himself against the back of Katsuki’s knees, leaning in with his body weight to force him in half. Katsuki could barely breathe, and the position let Shouto’s cock reach deep into his stomach with every thrust. 

The bed creaked at the strain and pounded against the wall, and Shouto had to slap his hand over Katsuki’s mouth to muffle his cries of ‘fuck’ and ‘harder’ and ‘Shouto’  and ‘don’t stop, don’t you dare stop I’m gonna, you’regonnamakeme—‘

Katsuki gasped against his hand, every unspoken confession kept at bay only by the strength of Shouto’s palm against his lips. It was too much. The cord tightened and snapped. Shouto fucked him through his orgasm with unrelenting brutality—every thrust punching another aftershock out of him. He pulled out once Katsuki was spent, leaving him wide open and empty, but he wasn’t done yet. 

Shouto used the mess between them to stroke Katsuki back to hardness, climbing on top and sinking down with a contented moan like the insatiable little slut he was. Katsuki would have laughed had his overstimulated nerves not been screaming at the sudden heat enveloping his cock. 

Shouto rode him, and Katsuki pulled him down by the hair, their lips meeting in the same frantic rhythm as their hips. Katsuki chased another release in the wetness of his body, cursing how perfect his insides felt gripping his cock like a vise and how sinful he looked as he sat up and rolled his hips to the time of each ragged breath.

More than once Shouto had to fist the base of his cock to stave off his own release. But Katsuki wanted to slap his hand away, to replace it with his own, to bring him to climax like the proverbial nail in their lovers coffin: here lies any hope of slinking back into the familiar comfort of denial.

Katsuki wasn’t sure he could turn back if his life depended on it. 

Their sex was frantic and hurried like they’d been bursting at the seams to fall back into bed together. Katsuki knew he had been, and from the way Shouto responded to every new reach of Katsuki cock, he supposed he could have been too. 

Shouto bounced once more, kissing him and clenching as he did so, and Katsuki burst inside of him, his cock pulsing with each new jet of cum. Shouto took all of it, keeping his ass firmly planted in Katsuki’s lap and moaning against his lips like he couldn’t get enough. Were Katsuki less spent, he’d gladly fuck another load into him, just to hear those noises for a few seconds more. 

Shouto sat up after his breathing evened out, looking down at Katsuki with ruddy cheeks. His cock was still hard, unlike Katsuki’s, which regretfully slipped out of his warm body, bringing with it a trickle of cum. 

“That was…” Shouto looked around the room and exhaled in amusement. “A proper goodbye to the dorms.”

Katsuki threw an arm over his face and laughed too, the disbelief of graduating settling in once again. 

Shouto pulled Katsuki’s arm arm away from his face and smiled down at him like water— stupid fucking water— and Katsuki’s chest stilled, because there was no goddamn way he could forgive himself for not confessing his feelings, for not telling Shouto that he l—

“I need some air,” Katsuki blurted, and then pushed Shouto off of him.

Shouto looked up at him from the bed with that same look he had when he’d bolted a week before, but Katsuki’s plan wasn’t for the asshole to go avoiding him again, so he threw his pants back on and tried to plaster on a reassuring look. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Katsuki said, and Shouto narrowed his eyes. “There’s just… I want to tell you something, but I need some air first. Meet me out front in like twenty minutes.”

The wary look transformed into confusion and then—perhaps because Shouto had said he trusted Katsuki a little too much—into a soft smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at,” he grabbed his phone from the floor and looked at the time. “I’ll see you out there at a quarter till?”

Katsuki finished up the last button on his shirt and opened the door. “See you out there, peppermint.”

The hallway was clear as he shut the door behind him and bolted for the elevator, tapping his foot while it dropped to the ground floor. 

He wasn’t really thinking about confessing, was he? How many nights had he berated himself, lamenting about his stupidity? He was supposed to be making rational decisions—not an infinitely more stupid one, not a decision so brash and unplanned that it made every other choice he’d ever made seem Nobel Prize worthy. 

The elevator opened on the ground floor, and Katsuki made for the front doors. It looked like most of the stray family members had filtered out, but he was still in no mood to talk to anyone. Much to his displeasure, there was something—or more accurately: someone—standing in the way of his sought-after isolation.

“Oh hey, bro. You missed the cake earlier,” Sero said once he noticed Katsuki. He was standing out on the deck, shoulder resting against one of the pillars with a cigarette between his fingers. 

Katsuki took a look at his classmate and the death-stick between his lips. They were friends in a weird sort of way. Second-hand friends maybe? They’d spent the last three years running in the same circle, but were never close. It may have struck Katsuki as odd, but even if he were the type to have close friends, he and Sero were as different as they could be.

“Those things’ll kill you.”

Sero looked down at the cigarette and huffed a laugh. “Better to die from this later than to die from nerves now.” 

“You? Nervous?” Katsuki snorted. “Let me guess, you lost a bet to Sparky and have to streak across campus.”

Tape arms looked up at the sky and then back at Katsuki with a lopsided smile. “I’m gonna confess to my crush tonight. Get it all out there before we’re off doing our own thing, you know? This is just to calm me down a bit.”

Maybe not so different, after all.

Katsuki leaned against the next pillar over and looked down at his hands. He supposed there were worse people he could be listening to at the moment, like fucking Deku. 

“Up side is,” Sero continued. “If he doesn’t return my feelings, he’s not gonna make me feel shitty about it.” He took another drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nose. “Todoroki’s not like that.”

Katsuki’s head snapped up so quickly his neck popped. 

“What?”

Sero looked at him and hummed. “I said Todoroki’s not—“

“No, I fucking heard you, I just—“ Katsuki forced himself to take a breath. “How do you know?” He managed to get the words out like trudging through quicksand. 

Tape arms gave him a quizzical glance, seemingly oblivious to Katsuki’s impending meltdown.

“Know what? That he’s not gonna—”

“How do you know you like him?” Katsuki blurted.

Sero’s brows furrowed.

“Umm… I don’t know, man. I guess I just,” he turned his back to the pillar and blinked down at his cigarette. “I guess he just makes me feel weird? Like good weird. But still weird. Butterflies maybe. And-and we always hang out and it’s just relaxing. I don’t really feel like I have to pretend to be anything when I’m with him.”

“And what if he’s not gay?” 

Sero snorted. “Yeah… I umm, somehow don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, but I’ll never know until I ask, right?”

Katsuki was going to be sick, he was sure of it. It was so dumb. So fucking stupid that he’d let himself fall so fucking hard for a guy who was either not gay or had an entire slew of people lining up to be with him. Shouto could do better than Katsuki, surely. 

But was Sero the better choice? Some would say so. Hell, most of their class would probably say so, but his feelings were wrong. Katsuki couldn’t shake it. What Sero felt for Shouto was nothing like what Katsuki felt for Shouto. They were completely different things—an unlit match next to a nuclear bomb. 

That’s not enough!

Sero stopped talking and gave him a look. Shit, Katsuki had said it out loud.

“What do you mean, it’s not enough?”

Katsuki should have walked away. He should have kept his mouth shut, gone back inside and dragged Shouto back to his room to confess there.

Katsuki should have done a lot of fucking things.

“Fuck butterflies, that’s not enough to confess.”

Sero flinched. “W-what?”

“You’re really gonna walk in there and tell him that you, what? Have some kind of a crush?”

“Uhh… yeah? What other reason could I have to confess if not to tell him I have a crush—“

“To tell him you fucking love him!” Katsuki shouted. He dug his fingers into his palms to keep them from sparking, letting his voice drop to a semi-normal volume. “To tell him you want to fucking be with him.”

Sero stared at him and blinked. Like an idiot.

“Listen man, I’m not sure what this is about, but I do want to be with him. What more could I possibly need? If there’s some foolproof, cosmic guide to how I should feel about the guy I’m into, I’d love to—“

“Water,” he said decisively, and Sero stopped talking. 

Katsuki turned back to lean against the pillar, looking out over the commons. “…love’s like water.”

He thought about Shouto, and their few short weeks together. 

Katsuki had never meant to fall in love.

“It’s like… it’s like drowning. You can’t fucking breathe because it’s everywhere—your nose, your mouth, throat, lungs… it fills you up and just when you think it’s killed you, you wash up on shore.”

Sero stayed silent beside him. Katsuki felt the weight of his eyes. 

“But you don’t run from it. Sure, you almost died, but you still need water. You drink it, you bathe in it. It’s always fucking there. You can’t escape it. Even if you wanted to, it would always be part of you.”

Katsuki breathed out a laugh.

“And water… it’s a paradox. It can be solid and icy and unforgiving. It can boil and splash and steam. It’s everything from a gentle drizzle in the springtime to a fucking hurricane. The smallest stream can carve its way through mountains, the largest wave can wipe out entire coasts. Water is uncertain and changing and mischievous and powerful and stunning… so fucking stunning… and we need it. Just like the air we breathe.”

Katsuki looked up finally, crimson eyes meeting deep brown. “Love is like water.”

Sero was silent for a moment.

“That sounds, umm, ” he was staring at Katsuki like he’d grown two heads. “… terrifying? Why would anyone want that?”

Katsuki opened his mouth but Sero interrupted.

“We’re talking about the same Todoroki, right? About this tall, half and half genes?” He held out his hand to demonstrate Shouto’s height and then gestured to his hair. 

“The guy’s had a rough life, Bakugou. We all know what he’s been through. You really think that’s what he deserves? You think he’d choose someone who makes him feel like he’s drowning? Cause I think everyone in there right now can agree the guy deserves someone who isn’t gonna hurt him like that.” 

Katsuki felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He could barely breathe, and there was a weight pressing on his chest. Sero stared at him and shook his head, dropping the cigarette and putting it out with his shoe. 

“Water,” he laughed. “I mean, thanks for the great pep talk man, but I’m gonna take my chances.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and went inside. 

For a few seconds, Katsuki just blinked. His heart hammered in his chest, his ears ringing. He couldn’t even think to breathe, let alone chase after him and speak. 

Sero was going to confess. He was going to confess to Shouto and Shouto was going to—

What was Shouto going to do? 

Accept him? Tell him he wasn’t gay?

Katsuki’s head was spinning, his mind tangling with the possibilities, each a shade darker than the last. He opened his mouth, trying to breathe, but his lungs refused to inflate. 

This can’t be happening… this isn’t supposed to be happening.

His eyes were stinging, his vision blurring. He hated that Sero was right. Why the hell did he have to be right?

Shouto didn’t want love that was destructive. Hell, he didn’t deserve it. He deserved those goddamned butterflies and comfort and someone he didn’t have to pretend around. And as much as the thought sent a stabbing pain through his chest, Katsuki could admit that if anyone deserved Shouto, it was someone like Sero. 

He looked at the door, the windows glowing with the warm light of a dorm building he’d never stay in again. 

Katsuki’s hands shook as he took out his phone. It was a quarter till. Shouto would be meeting him soon.

He unlocked it in a daze and scrolled through his contacts, looking for Endeavor’s name and pressing ‘call’ with only the barest hint of hesitation.

Each ring of the phone was an eternity. 

“Hello?” Endeavor’s voice greeted him. “Bakugou, is that you?”

A warm breeze rippled through campus, bringing with it the first signs of spring. A hot tear escaped to roll down his cheek. Katsuki took a breath. 

“How soon can I leave?”

Chapter Text

“How soon can I leave?” Katsuki rushed out in one breath.

Endeavor made a sound of consideration. “Well, that depends—”

“How soon can I leave, old man?” Katsuki snapped again, roughly wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. There were a few noises on the other end of the line, followed by steady voices. Endeavor must have gone back to his agency after leaving the dorms. 

“I can have you on a plane in the morning. That’s the earliest I can do,” he replied after a time.

“Book it and have someone pick me up from these damn dorms asap.”

Katsuki squatted down and waited for his response, all the while gripping his phone so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. 

“Very well. I’ll have a car there in fifteen minutes.”

Katsuki grunted in response and hung up before sending a text to his parents. 

America. 

He plopped down onto his ass and leaned back against the pillar, bringing his knees up to his chest and dropping his phone beside himself. America could be good, he tried to convince himself. It would allow him some independence. It would give him time to think and to breathe. 

Katsuki ground his teeth together and inhaled sharply through his nose. His throat felt raw, his stomach rolling like a Ferris wheel off its hinges. He thought about what it would mean to stay, to see Shouto out on the streets and in magazines day after day, to have him so close yet so unbearably out of reach. Katsuki thought about fighting with him, side by side as heroes, as partners, before Shouto invariably went home to someone else warming his bed.

He thought about Shouto choosing Sero. Katsuki had experienced being run through by Shigaraki once before. He imagined the sight of them together would feel much the same.

This is a good thing. Leaving is best.

“Hey man, there you are!” 

Katsuki crossed his arms over his knees and turned his head away from Shitty Hair, hoping the asshole would take the hint and leave. 

Kirishima didn’t take the hint. 

“You okay, man? What’s up?”

He dropped down against the other pillar facing Katsuki and tilted his head like a fucking puppy that couldn’t figure out why its owner was sad. Katsuki pointedly refused to look at him, lest the dumbass put two and fucking two together and realize he’d been crying. 

“Seriously, bro. What are you—” Kirishima went silent. “Have you been…” crying? He didn’t finish. 

Damn it all to hell; he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. 

“Fuck off.”

Katsuki’s voice came out shaky and raw. He could practically feel Shitty Hair’s look of pity. It was disgusting. Katsuki wasn’t one to be pitied. It made him want to explode the asshole’s face—to erase every last shred of sympathy until Katsuki was finally as alone as he felt.

“Is…” Kirishima shifted and cleared his throat. “Is this about the Seroroki thing?”

“The what?” Katsuki snapped, finally turning his head to look at the bastard. 

Kirishima looked uncomfortable for a beat. His shoulders were slouched, and he rubbed his neck before gesturing to the dorms with his tumb. 

“You know, Sero confessing to Roki?”

Katsuki gaped at him. Did everyone fucking know? Was Katsuki the last to get the fucking memo about his entire life crashing down around him?

Kirishima’s pity transformed into something else, and he dropped his hands into his lap. 

“Listen, man. I’m not an idiot. I know you and Todo have a thing. You’re not exactly subtle. Or quiet.”

Katsuki grit his teeth and turned back away, looking down the road and willing his ride to get there quicker. 

“Then you know what’s wrong,” he snapped. “Don’t ask dumb fucking questions.”

“Bro, chill.” Kirishima held up his hands in mock surrender. “As soon as Sero’s done, you can go in there and shoot your shot.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes and glared at Shitty Hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s pretty obvious that Todo isn’t into him like that. But, I mean, if you’re planning on waiting till Sero isn’t so sad about being rejected, that’s manly too, I guess.”

“Obvious to who, Shitty Hair? How the fuck would you know the first thing about what Peppermint wants? How do you know he’s even into guys?”

Kirishima looked up and to the side like he was trying to remember the unit circle again. “Uhhh, haven’t you guys been fucking?”

“That doesn’t mean shit! It’s only gay if both guys come. That’s what you said. I was stress relief to him. That’s it,” Katsuki spat, finally admitting the truth aloud. 

Shitty Hair blinked and then barked out a laugh that he promptly tried to hide with a cough, and now Katsuki really wanted to blast his face off. 

“Bro! Never listen to me or Denks. Especially when we’re drunk. I’m gay as hell and he’s pan. We were fucking with you guys, I can’t believe you actually bought that…”

Katsuki flexed his fingers, feeling a vein pop in his neck. “Well, Shouto thinks it’s fucking true, you goddamn asswipe!” 

“Oh shit. So, you’re totally into him, but you’re not sure if he’s into you, so you’re just gonna let Sero confess while you hide out here to protect yourself. That’s…” he slumped back against the pillar. “Much less manly, but more on brand, I guess.”

Katsuki nearly jumped across the distance to strangle him, but a car was now coming up the drive. Shitty Hair noticed it too, and he did a double take when Katsuki pushed up to stand. 

“Who is that? Did you call an Uber or something?”

“Fuck off and have a nice life or whatever,” Katsuki waved dismissively and hopped down off of the porch, foregoing the stairs altogether. 

“Wait, what the hell?”

Kirishima jumped after him and grabbed him by the arm, but Katsuki tugged out of his grip as the car came to a halt and the driver got out.

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight? Endeavor sent me to collect you.” The driver opened the back door of the car. “Is your luggage here, or will we be making a stop before the airport?”

“The airport?” Kirishima asked, as he looked between them. “What’s going on, Bakubro? Where are you going?”

“I can’t stay here, Shitty Hair. I’m taking a hero gig in America.” Katsuki dug his nails into his palms and refused to face his friend, because then maybe he’d think about all of the things he was leaving behind.

Better to cling to the bitterness and pain. Better not to look back.

“I gotta make a stop at my house to get my shit,” he told the driver. “I’ll tell you the address on the way.”

“Tell me you’re joking,” Kirishima said disbelievingly. “This isn’t funny, man. Tell me you’re just being dramatic right now.”

“Do I look like I’m fucking laughing, asshole?” Katsuki grabbed the top of the open car door, keeping his back to Shitty Hair. “This is for the best. ‘Seroroki’ can be fucking happy now.”

“No,” Kirishima grabbed him again and spun him, keeping the car door propped open with his stupidly muscular body. “You can’t just run like this. Especially when you don’t know that he doesn’t like you back!”

“Watch me, fuck face.”

“Fine. I won’t let you run like this. I’ll go in there right now and tell him you’re into him. So, you can either stop being a coward and do it yourself, or you can sit out here and wait.”

“You’re not telling him shit,” Katsuki spat. He tried to shove Shitty Hair out of the way, but the bastard stayed planted and looked down at him like he was no more menacing than a fucking fly. 

“Watch me,” he parroted. 

Kirishima finally moved, heading back toward the dorms, but this time it was Katsuki’s turn to grab his arm.

“Wait! Fucking hell, you can’t!”

“One of us has to tell him, man.”

“No,” Katsuki protested. Bile rose up in his throat, and he swallowed against the bitterness. “You don’t fucking get it. Shouto, he… he deserves someone like Tape Arms, okay? It’s the smart choice—picking Sero over me. I’m not gonna get in the way of that.”

“That’s bullshit,” Kirishima snapped. “You really think you get to make that decision for him? Who the hell are you to say what he deserves? Todo’s not like that! He’s not gonna choose to be with someone just cause someone says they’re the smartest choice. He deserves to pick for himself.”

He pulled out of Katsuki’s grasp and turned, and the ground shifted under Katsuki’s feet. Shitty Hair couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t. Katsuki felt like he was going to pass out and throw up, not necessarily in that order. His skin prickled; his eyes stung. Kirishima was walking up the steps. Katsuki set off several small explosions just to be in control of something.

Shitty Hair froze. For a moment, Katsuki was sure he was going to keep walking, but he stayed on the second step and turned around. Katsuki took a step forward, willing himself not to cry again. 

“Please,” his voice sounded fucking pathetic. Katsuki cursed himself for being so fucking weak. “I’ll do anything. Any one favor. You name it and I’ll do it. Today? Tomorrow? Ten years from now? Anything, anything other than confessing to Shouto.”

Kirishima’s look transformed back into pity, his brows pinched, and his shoulders slumped. Katsuki’s cheeks felt wet, and he bit the side of his tongue to keep himself grounded. 

“I want this. I want him to be happy. That’s what it means to love someone, isn’t it? Even if I have to move halfway across the world, I just… I just want him to be happy.” Katsuki stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up. “Please.”

Kirishima looked from him to the car, then to the driver who had been wisely silent, before his red eyes dropped back down to Katsuki’s own. 

Five minutes later, as the driver pulled away from Kirishima and the dorms, Katsuki felt a pull. He wanted to turn back around, to soak in one last snapshot of everything he knew and everything he was leaving behind. Maybe then he could look back on it someday and know he’d made the right choice. 

But he couldn’t face it. He couldn’t bear to see the tears in Shitty Hair’s eyes or the lit windows and the ghost-like memories they held. And so, despite the ache in his chest and every nerve screaming at him to turn around, Katsuki kept his eyes on what was in front of him and drove on into the night—far away from the boy who deserved so much more than love like water.

7 YEARS LATER

“That was brutal, my dudes,” Shitty Hair and the Flex Tape menace plopped down at their table, joining in on the peachy fucking pastime of making weddings unbearable. 

Katsuki scowled at Kirishima. “Yeah, I fucking know. Thanks for pointing it out, Shitty Hair.”

“Hey man!” Eijirou threw his hands up. “Don’t go snapping at me. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it in your pants till you got home.”

Katsuki turned to scowl at Shouto who was nursing a near-empty bottle of champagne that he was pretty sure had been full when they sat down. “This is your fault.”

“Takes two to fuck in a closet, Blasty,” he said flippantly. “Don’t blame me for this.”

Sero spit his drink into his glass and Deku and Shitty Hair burst back into laughter. Katsuki tried to set all of them on fire with his eyes, and then turned back to Shouto who was finishing off the rest of the bottle. 

“You’re like a pineapple,” Shouto slurred at him and swayed in his seat slightly. 

Fucking lightweight. 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes and leaned in. Like this, he could smell the champagne on Shouto’s lips. It made him want to taste it on his tongue, but the other wedding guests had finally stopped laughing at them, so maybe it was better not to cause another scene. 

“You drunk already, princess?”

Mismatched brows furrowed, and he scrunched his nose a little while looking out at the dance floor. It shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. 

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?” He turned back and blinked at Katsuki with wide eyes, and Katsuki felt his heart do a stupid little flip. 

For a second, all Katsuki could do was stare at him. Was it really only a few short weeks ago that Shouto was proclaiming his hatred for weddings and commitment? Hadn’t he been against the very idea of bringing a date because of the implications? And now here they were, together, at their friends’ wedding, having just fucked in a closet, and Shouto was talking about romance like he could finally trust Katsuki again.

Katsuki felt warm all over, and it had nothing to do with alcohol or his quirk or anything of the sort. It made him want to drag Shouto back home. Hell, they could go back to the closet for all he cared, as long as they were together. Katsuki could show Shouto fucking romantic. He’d whisper sonnets across every plane of his body and watch pink bloom over his skin like a bouquet of a thousand roses. While they were at it, they could lock fingers and gazes as Katsuki moved inside of him and proclaimed his love, and Shouto could say it back, because things were finally fucking okay. 

“I—“

“Hey Bakubro, I wanna talk to you for a sec!”

Katsuki closed his mouth and turned toward Shitty Hair, bristling with annoyance at having been interrupted. Couldn’t the fucker read the room? Katsuki had just been about to whisk Shouto off of his feet and back to the fucking car so they could leave and spend the rest of the night holed up in Katsuki’s bed. 

“Umm,” he breathed out through his nose and shifted in his seat, considering telling Kirishima to go fuck himself but thinking differently. He looked back at Shouto with his wide eyes and handsome face and drunken posture. “I’m gonna go see what Shitty Hair wants. You just… stay put. Okay?”

Shouto nodded, watching him leave as he got up to follow Kirishima from the reception hall. 

The frigid night air hit Katsuki in the face as soon as they were outside, and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the bastard who’d dragged him away.

“You wanted to talk, so talk. ‘S fucking cold.”

Katsuki blew into his hands, and Shitty Hair laughed at him like an asshole.

“So… you and Sho seem to be doing good?”

“Was that a question, or a statement?” Katsuki bit out.

“Both, kinda? I mean to say that I’m happy for you. I remember our talk after graduation. I just didn’t know if I’d ever see the day.”

Katsuki leaned against the balcony railing and regarded him warily. “What’s this about, Shitty Hair? You didn’t drag me out here just to chit chat.”

Kirishima gave a half smile and then looked down over the railing. “Have you guys talked yet?” He glanced back at Katsuki. “About graduation? About you leaving?”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but the chill could no longer be solely attributed to the weather.

“I apologized. I told him I’d work to earn his forgiveness. That’s all that matters.”

“But you didn’t tell him why you left?”

“Who cares why I left? An explanation isn’t gonna take it back.”

Kirishima tilted his head. “It may not take it back, but it could help rebuild some of the trust you two used to have.”

“What are you, my fucking therapist?” Katsuki gagged. “I’m doing just fine rebuilding trust on my own, mom.”

“Don’t give me that, man. I’m just trying to help.” He turned away from Katsuki again and looked out over the city. “You weren’t here, so you didn’t really see how he got when he found out you’d left… it was bad. Really fucked with him, you know? We all tried to help, but he still has trust issues. I just want both of you to be okay.”

Katsuki leaned against the balcony railing next to him, breathing in the frigid night air as it burned his lungs. They were okay, weren’t they? Being at the wedding together was a testament to that.

“I’m only going to say this once, Shitty Hair, so listen the fuck up.” Katsuki turned his head to look him in the eye and took a deep breath. “Back at graduation, I should have listened to you. But now?”

Katsuki looked back over his shoulder to the glass double doors and gauzy curtains obscuring the hallway. “We’re good. I get it, I know you want to help, cause that’s the kind of guy you are, manly or whatever. But I’ve been rebuilding his trust. It’s working. I don’t need your help.”

“I don’t know man…”

“You don’t have to fucking know. I already told you, it’s not happening.”

“Don’t be like that, bro. I’m telling you this as a friend. If you care about him, I think you should tell him.”

“And I’m telling you this as someone who doesn’t give a fuck! The Peppermint and I are finally fucking good. I’m not gonna bring up the past and ruin shit.”

“But Shouto’s always gonna wonder why you left. If you’re serious about him like you say you are, then he deserves to know,” Kirishima said definitively. “And what happens if he finds out from someone other than you?” he added.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes and poked him in the chest, which he would never admit actually fucking hurt.

“The only way he’s gonna find out is if you fucking tell him! That’s what the goddamned favor was about. You know, the one you used to drag me back to this fuck-fest?”

“Just…” Eijirou sighed. “Consider it okay? I think being honest with him will go a long way.”

“Honest? And how honest should I fucking be?” Katsuki shouted. “Oh sorry, Halfie, you’re the reason I left in the first fucking place? Or should I just straight up say it’s cause I couldn’t stand the sight of him with someone else?”

“Tell him you were scared of losing him! Tell him you were young and stupid and in love and tried to do what you thought would make him happy. That’s why you did it, right? If you love someone you should let them go. Just… how many of the issues between you two could have been solved with, like, two seconds of communication? Anything else is like slapping a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound and calling it healed.”

Katsuki set his elbows on the rail and massaged at his temples. Dammit, he had a point. But Katsuki was scared. He didn’t want to risk ruining this fragile thing he’d spent weeks building between himself and Shouto. It felt like a house of cards that could topple at any moment, and not confronting any of the shit that happened graduation night would keep it from toppling over long enough for Katsuki to frame it with brick and mortar.

They stayed out on the balcony until well after his fingers had gone numb. Katsuki opened his eyes and exhaled a visible puff of air.

“Listen, Shitty Hair. Maybe you’re—”

The screeching sound of rubber on pavement cut him off, and Katsuki looked down in time to see an orange Ferrari—his orange Ferrari—speed away from the venue.

“What the…?”

“There you are!” Deku burst through the curtains. His eyes were wide as he looked between the two of them. “Where’s Shouto? I thought he was with you?”

“What? Why the fuck would he be with us? I told him to stay put!”

Kirishima made a face of realization at the same moment it clicked into place in Katsuki’s mind.

“Uhh… does Todobro know how to drive your car?”

Katsuki swayed on his feet. The balcony seemed to shift under him, his stomach plummeting like he was falling several stories to the ground.

“Drive?” Deku said. “It doesn’t matter if he knows how to drive, he was drinking!”

He’s going to get himself killed…

Katsuki ripped his tie off and jumped over the railing, catching himself in the air with an explosion. The tell-tale flash of green light behind him said that Deku was following closely. Katsuki headed in the direction that the car had been going before disappearing. He didn’t know where Shouto was heading, but from the air, he’d be able to cover more ground.

The path led them away from the city, toward those mountain roads where Katsuki had taken Shouto before. The sky was dark, the moon obscured by a wispy layer of clouds so that the roads looked no more than grey snakes winding through black trees. The occasional pair of headlights caught his attention, but the only orange in sight were the explosions he used to keep himself airborne.

“Kacchan!” Deku shouted and pointed down.

There, at one of those hairpin turns, with a solid rock face on one side and a straight drop on the other, was a car. Katsuki knew immediately that it was his, not because it was visibly orange while flipped over and crumpled against the side of the mountain. He knew, because the whole of the wreckage, as well as a good portion of the road and rock face, were covered in jutting shards of ice.

Chapter Text

Everything was cold.

Shouto’s body felt heavy, his arms hanging like weights above his head. Above his head? Maybe below. He couldn’t really tell, but that’s were arms were supposed to be.

Every breath he forced in and out was a feat, one that was achieved despite the sharp pain in his side and the frigid air burning his lungs. His skull felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and the ringing in his ears—wait, no, not ringing. It was something else, something louder. An explosion? A voice?

SHOUTO!

SHOU—

SH—

Shouto’s head began to spin again, and the darkness consumed him once more.

“We gonna do this or what?” Bakugou snapped acerbically.

Shouto blinked the remaining fog from the edges of his vision, looking around to see where he was. That was right, they were back at the dorms. Shouto knew this memory well.

Bakugou was sitting in front of his futon with the bottle of Moroccan Argan Oil in his hand, looking—for perhaps the first time in his life—less than confident.

Shouto couldn’t help but feel the same hint of uncertainty in his own shaky movements as he took the bottle back and began the process of undressing. The flick of a button on his jeans, a zipper being undone, the rustle of denim as he peeled them down his legs and discarded them onto the floor with his shirt. There was thick, heavy tension with every miniscule movement and each passing second.

He was going to lose his virginity, and he was going to lose it to Bakugou Katsuki. Shouto might have laughed had he not been so focused on remembering their single sex-ed course and not fucking this up.

He reached for the waistband of his boxers. His cock strained against the stretchy fabric, already hard and leaking into the fitted material. Shouto’s cheeks heated in embarrassment as he slid them down, and his cock sprung free. It wasn’t that he was insecure about size; he’d just never been so acutely aware of his own body before.

What does Bakugou think about it? Shouto couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze and find out.

He slipped the embarrassment into the pocket of his discarded jeans, pouring oil into his hand and reaching down between his legs. Shouto passed his hardened cock, trailing his fingers down to where he was about to let Bakugou enter him. He circled the opening with a single, oiled finger, his muscles strung taut as he began pressing it inside.

Shouto gasped at the foreign sensation. It wasn’t like he’d never played with himself before, but this…fingering himself open in front of a classmate, a male classmate, so that said classmate could fuck him? It was obscene and perverted and lewd and… and really fucking hot. Like, so hot that Shouto was adding a second finger before he even knew what he was doing.

He sunk his teeth into his lip, keeping his eyes closed tightly. Otherwise, he might make eye contact with Bakugou and then loose his nerve, and by this point Shouto was determined to get fucked, dammit. 

“I-I’m ready, Bakugou.”

“I don’t know Halfie—“

“Shouto, call me Shouto, please...” he pleaded.

“Shouto, I don’t know if that’s enough. Just, um, keep going; add another finger.”

Shouto groaned in frustration and stuffed a third, oiled finger inside of himself. The stretch was bordering on painful, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t take. He heard a rustling of fabric and opened his eyes in time to see Katsuki shove his pants down to his knees, his cock bobbing in the open air before he fisted it roughly.

Wait. When had he started thinking of him as Katsuki?

Shouto’s head began to spin again, his lungs burning like he was gulping down winter air. His nose felt wet, dripping down over his lips and tasting of iron—

“What pretty boy? Think it’s too thick for ya?”

They were in the dorms. That was right. Shouto wiped his upper lip, but his hand came away clean.

Strange…

“What have we learned from training, Katsuki?” Shouto said in a daze. “You know that I can take anything you throw at me.” 

He turned over on his knees exactly like he remembered doing and braced himself on his elbows with his ass raised in the air. Katsuki breathed out a curse.

There was the pop of a cap as Katsuki poured oil onto his cock, and then he was lining up, the blunt head positioned directly against Shouto’s willing entrance. This was the point of no return—a clearly defined ‘you are here’ on a map marking his seven-year journey through figurative hell.

Shouto’s body thrummed in anticipation. He could feel the hot press of Katsuki’s arousal and the way his body protested entry. There was pressure, pressure, more pressure still. Every millisecond was a lifetime waiting with bated breath, until Shouto’s body finally, blessedly accepted him.

Katsuki’s cock slid inside in the kind of sudden way an avalanche might begin. That’s what it felt like to Shouto at least—fissures slicing through a mountain’s summit, the weight of a lifetime of winters bearing down on him. It was painful. He should have stretched himself more, he realized in hindsight. But there was something just beyond the horizon, something not quite wholly differentiable. Shouto clung to it the same way he clung to his sheets, white-knuckled and with barely contained fire.

The stretch was extreme, the pain not subsiding as he thought it would. Shouto whined and shifted his hips in search of comfort, but the movement was stilted and only succeeded in sucking him inside further. Katsuki grabbed his hips with a whispered “fuck,” holding him steady. Shouto was grateful for it. The bruising hold was grounding, it gave him something to focus on other than the intense burning stretch and foreign sensation of being full.

Katsuki breathed, long and low, before sliding in further. Something else rushed through Shouto then, sharp and searing like a blade, but it wasn’t pain. His balls tightened and his cock twitched, leaking a gleaming drop of precum down onto the sheets. Shouto fisted the sheets harder.

This was nothing like masturbating. Shouto’s entire body felt like a lit fuse, dwindling down as Katsuki bottomed out and draped himself over his back. The balance shifted, the pain now almost fully eclipsed.

Shouto felt lightheaded and he was pretty sure it wasn’t due to the alcohol. Katsuki was inside of him, his thick cock stretching him open and filling him in the most intimate way. Every contact point between their bodies was smoldering, threatening to ignite and consume them.

Katsuki shifted and molten pleasure coursed through Shouto’s veins, his balls tightening, and his cock throbbing.

Fuck, no no no no…

Much more and Shouto would come on the spot. His breathing quickened, and he clamped his eyes shut.

“No! Don’t move!” Shouto begged.

Katsuki misinterpreted it. “Fuck, does it hurt?”

He sounded so worried. Shouto would have found it sweet if he weren’t currently two seconds from nutting all over his sheets.

“No…” he gritted. “Just… give me a… second.”

This was going to be the end of him, he was sure of it: death by cock. They should write that on his headstone.

Shouto clenched the sheets so tightly he could feel his nails digging into his palms through the fabric. It took an uncomfortable amount of time, but he was finally able to get control over his body, and stave off his orgasm for the time being.

“Oh-okay. You can move now.”

“Are you sure Halfie?” Katsuki asked warily.

“Yes, I’m sure. Please move…” before I have to start begging.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“I said you can fuck me!”

And damned if Katsuki didn’t comply.

Shouto cried out when Katsuki pulled out and slammed back in. The force of it caused him to lurch forward and Shouto braced himself on the futon as Katsuki fucked him like a machine.

It was too much—searing, scorching, blazing. A million words in the dictionary and none could quite do justice to the brutality with which Katsuki pounded into him. It was pleasure and bliss and pain and static and combustion in the way they were both combustion. It was feeling complete for the first time in his life.

“Fuck!” Shouto shouted, his cock bobbing between his legs. “Fuck, Kat… it feels so good, holy shit—I-I didn’t know… nobody says it feels like this, fuck… Why haven’t we-we always been doing this? Please, harder, I need—"

“I-I’m gonna—”

The slapping sound of skin echoed off the walls. Shouto was so fucking close, just a little more…

“Yes! Fuck do it… in—inside! Holyfuckjustlikethatfillme—”

The first hot burst inside of him almost sent Shouto hurtling over the edge of his own orgasm. He could feel Katsuki’s cock pulse and throb as it pumped him full, and Shouto writhed, feeling even fuller still, letting Katsuki paint his insides like a good boy.

They collapsed next to one another on the futon, panting from the exertion. Shouto felt the sticky mess between his thighs, a combination of oil and Katsuki’s release leaking out.

“That was—”

“Yeah,” Shouto finished for him. It felt different than he remembered, like he wasn’t so much reliving the memory as watching from a distance. The pleasant warmth began to dissipate. A chill ran down his spine.

“What do you want?”

Shouto turned toward Katsuki and blinked.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if it was that good, pretty boy?”

A sharp pain shot through Shouto’s side and he winced.

“What. Do. You. Want!?”

It sounded like thunder and explosions and an echo off alleyway walls. Shouto clamped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes. His feet hit solid ground. Cold air burned his lungs.

“This… this deal? This rock/paper/scissors fuck all. Do you want to start it back up? Do you want something more? Want me to fuck off back to America? What. Do. You. Want!?” Katsuki shouted, and Shouto opened his eyes.

They were in an alleyway. Shouto’s chest was heaving from having run through the city. The sudden shift made his stomach knot.

“I wanted you to stay,” he whispered, and it was carried away by the wind.

No. That wasn’t right. Shouto had yelled last time. This memory was confrontation shouted from a place of pain—not a whisper, not a gentle murmur against the nape of a lover.

“I wanted to confess to you that night during finals!” That’s more like it. “I wanted to tell you that…”

Before and after. Always before and after.

“I’m gay.”

The temperature was dropping, frost creeping along the pavement. Had it really been that cold back then? Shouto’s breath was a visible thing, billowing out of his chest like the words he no longer wished to hold back. He could faintly hear the crackling of ice.

“I-I knew after that first time, but I thought that if I said anything, you’d hate me. I thought that lying about it would make things easier. And I tricked myself into believing… no, hoping that you could ever feel the same way about me as I felt about you.”

Shouto laughed then, like he was reciting it all from a cue card.

“It didn’t matter in the end though, did it? You still left.”

What do you mean he left?

“I’m confused,” wait, no that’s not what I said. “At first I was confused,” better. “I didn’t know what I was feeling. It was all so sudden and out of the blue and everything in my mind was twisted up into this ball and I couldn’t even begin to talk about it. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping…”

The ice was spreading, crawling up Katsuki’s legs and turning his skin blue. Shouto could smell blood again. He couldn’t remember the rest of the speech.

Blackness. Shouto was surrounded by it, floating through a starless sky. He landed on his feet—water like ink rippling over the surface of a still lake. There was no light to reflect his image, but he could hear his own voice. A fragmented memory from a time long past.

“What do you mean he left?”

Once more, Shouto felt the pain. Once more, he allowed the darkness to take him.

Shouto came to to his own reflection.

He was standing in front of a bathroom mirror, arms braced on the sink as water dripped down over his face. Vacant, bloodshot eyes stared back at him, glazed over from a combination of alcohol and whatever the fuck had been in those pills.

What a scandal it would be if the public could see him: freshly graduated, eighteen-year-old hero Shouto, standing in some stranger’s bathroom, under the influence of god knows what.

He splashed more water on his face and rinsed his mouth with the half-empty bottle of vodka he’d brought with him. There was a knock at the door, heavy and impatient.

“Yo, you sneak out the window or something?”

Shouto turned and stared at the cheap wooden door like an obstacle that needed passing.

This is normal. Normal people do this.

Another knock. Shouto took a swig from the bottle and straightened his shoulders, opening the door.

The stranger’s fist was raised to knock again, and he looked down at Shouto with a smirk.

“For a sec I thought you chickened out. S’not everyday a pro hero lets a guy like me take him home.”

Shouto looked up at him. Now that they were out of the harsh, neon light of the club, he could see that the stranger’s eyes were red. It made Shouto feel like throwing up again.

Shouto brushed past him silently, undressing as he went. The stranger gave an appreciative hum as Shouto’s knees hit the bed. It would make it easier if he couldn’t see those fucking eyes. The guy put his hands on Shouto’s waist, and it made his skin crawl. He gritted his teeth to bear it.

You can’t keep holding onto him.

Shouto placed his hands over the stranger’s and leaned back into his chest, breathing through his nose, smelling menthols and cheap cologne. The guy nuzzled into his hair and inhaled deeply.

“You’re not talkative, are ya, pretty boy?”

The nickname stung like acid, and Shouto pulled away, bracing himself on his hands and knees against the mattress.

“Just shut up and fuck me till I forget,” he replied in a daze.

The guy hesitated before kneeling behind him.

“Forget what?” he asked, even as he lined up and began pressing inside.

“Everything…” Shouto whispered.

The stranger wasn’t gentle. Shouto was grateful for the pain. It was easy to get lost in it. It was easy for everything to fade back to darkness.

“Meet me out front in like twenty minutes,” Katsuki said, and Shouto blinked, realizing he was back in the dorms again.

This was… graduation? He shifted and felt cum coating his thighs. That’s right. He looked back up at Katsuki. Twenty minutes? Shouto was confused, but Katsuki had assured him nothing was wrong, so he should trust him, right?

Shouto gave him a soft smile. “Okay, I’ll see you at,” he looked at the time on his phone. “I’ll see you out there at a quarter till?”

Katsuki finished dressing and opened the door. “See you out there, peppermint.”

Shouto looked around the room after he was gone. He stared at the bare walls and now crumpled bedsheets, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. He ignored it and the faint, lingering scent of blood as he redressed and made his way downstairs. He didn’t remember blood being part of this memory.

Izuku was sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of tea while their remaining classmates roamed about, grabbing last minute items from their rooms. He spotted Shouto and waved him over with a smile, and Shouto went willingly. He still had a few minutes to kill before meeting Katsuki outside.

“Shouchan,” Izuku greeted warmly. “For a second I thought you’d left without saying goodbye.”

Dropping down next to him, Shouto huffed and pulled his knees up to his chin. For a moment, he was content to just stare at his friend. His first real friend.

“It’s your power,” Shouto said after a beat. “That’s what you said to me. I don’t know if I ever properly thanked you for saving me back then.”

Green eyes widened slightly, and Izuku sat up straight. “You know you don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same thing for me.”

“Well, I would now. But back then… I was lost. I don’t think anyone else would have thought me worth finding.”

“I don’t know,” Izuku looked down at his tea. “Kacchan might have. He’s more heroic than a lot of people give him credit for.”

Shouto smiled at the mention of Katsuki. “He’s more everything than people give him credit for,” Shouto amended.

“What’s this about, Shouchan? Are you okay?”

Shouto leaned his head on his knees and looked back at Izuku. 

“If… if you had something important to say to someone, but you didn’t know how they would react, would you still say it? Even if it meant that you could get hurt, or that things may never be the same again. Would you still risk it?”

Izuku set his tea down on the coffee table and chewed on his bottom lip. He was quiet for so long, that Shouto wasn’t sure he was going to respond.

“I think,” Izuku started and then trailed off like he was thinking better of it. When he finally met Shouto’s eyes, it was with a look of soft sincerity. “I think you should tell him. Kacchan might surprise you.”

Shouto didn’t even try to hide his shock. In a way, it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Izuku knew them both better than anyone, which was a comfort by itself, because if Izuku was telling him to go for it, then he had to have a reason.

“You’re right,” Shouto said with renewed determination. “I’m going to go out there and tell him I love him.”

Izuku sputtered, his face flushing scarlet like he hadn’t expected for Shouto to admit it aloud. Shouto patted him on the back and stood up, and Izuku’s momentary surprise morphed into a smile.

“Go get him. I believe in you.”

Shouto returned his smile in kind, heading off in the direction of the front door. This was it. He was finally going to confess. Screw insecurities and wondering where they stood. Screw all those nights spent lying awake, wondering if Katsuki was gay or not. Shouto was a hero, goddammit. If he could face down people who wanted him dead, he could tell Katsuki he was in love with him.

He reached for the door, preparing the speech in his mind, but it swung open before he could reach the handle.

Sero almost ran into him on his way in, his dark eyes going wide and his mouth forming a little o.

“Hey! Just the guy I wanted to see,” Sero said in a higher pitch than normal.

Shouto tried to look around him to see where Katsuki had gone. It was creeping closer and closer to their meeting time.

 “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Shouto stopped trying to find Katsuki and brought his gaze back to Sero.

“Can it wait for a bit? I’m supposed to be meeting—”

“Actually, it can’t,” he interrupted.

Shouto paused. Sero was breathing steadily, but he was rubbing his hands together like he always did when he got nervous. Shouto looked down at his phone and the time. Katsuki could wait for a second, he supposed.

“Okay, yeah. Is everything okay?”

Sero looked around and then gave him a wobbly half smile. “Do you maybe wanna go somewhere else? Like… even just the hallway?”

Shouto nodded and headed for the hallway leading to the elevators, away from the remaining students hanging out in the common area. Sero was close behind him, looking down and muttering something to himself that sounded like ‘you can do this.’

“So,” Shouto stopped once they had rounded the corner. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

For a moment, Sero looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Shouto was getting more worried by the second. This wasn’t like him—the nervous ticks, the barely concealed fear. Things had always been relaxed between them, so what was with the sudden change?

“We’re close, right?” Sero asked.

Shouto’s brows furrowed, and he nodded slowly, wondering what had gotten into his friend.

“Okay, um, so… I know like, at the beginning we weren’t close, and you kinda actually really scared me if I’m being totally honest…” He trailed off and laughed nervously, and Shouto blinked.

“Oh. Um, I’m sorry?”

“Wait, no! Don’t be! It-it’s totally cool. Cause like, now we’re good, and we hang out, and these past three years have been… I-I’ve enjoyed them. It’s just that, we’re about to go be heroes and… well, things are gonna be different, aren’t they?”

Shouto looked at the clock on the wall. He was supposed to be meeting Katsuki.

“Sero… where is this going?” Shouto turned back to him.

Sero looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, shit. I just gotta say it don’t I…”

“Say what?”

“Ilikeyou,” he rushed out in one breath.

Shouto tilted his head like it would help him make sense of the words.

“I… I like you,” he repeated slowly. “Like, more than a friend like you. And, I wanted to see, to ask, if you’d consider maybe… dating me?”

Sero finally looked back up, but he was no longer the one caught in the headlights.

Shouto opened his mouth and closed it several times, trying to work out what the hell to say to that. Honestly, his first instinct was to laugh, but that was probably a dick move if Sero was being serious. Was it also a dick move to ask if he was being serious?

No words were coming out of his mouth, but the longer he stayed silent, the more terrified Sero looked, so it was probably better to say something than to stay quiet—no matter how indelicate that something may be.

“H-how do you know?” Shouto could manage no more than a whisper, but Sero must have heard him well enough.

“I don’t know, man. I just… I just like being around you. It’s easy and comfortable. Whenever I was stressed because of school? Whenever internships had sucked or I was just feeling down, you were always there. And I told myself it was just friend stuff, that what I felt for you was just because you were nice to me, but I guess… I guess somewhere along the way I had to stop lying to myself. And I’m telling you now because I had to get it off my chest before we’re off working as heroes.”

Shouto’s lips parted. How was he supposed to respond to that?

I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way?

I see you as a friend?

Please don’t like me; I promise you deserve better?

I’m actually in love with Katsuki?

Shouto swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Sero breathed a laugh. “Y-yeah, sorry for kinda springing it on you. So, do… do you want to give me a shot?”

“I—” Shouto stopped himself.

Shouto took a moment to look at him. Then he thought about Katsuki, about how words like easy and comfortable were nowhere near how he would describe their relationship, and it hurt. It hurt because Sero deserved the world. He deserved to have those feelings reciprocated, and Shouto would never be able to give that to him, because love to Shouto had always been the antithesis to comfort.

Shouto wanted chaos and passion. He wanted to fight villains and run hand in hand down the street after the latest plot to annoy his father. He wanted sloppy make out sessions against alley walls, and to feel like he couldn’t breathe without it. The very idea of it made him feel like a moth drawn to the very flame that would kill him.

“Someday,” he said, and his eyes began to sting. “Someday you’re going to find someone. And it will be comfortable and simple and relaxing. It’ll be manga nights on Saturdays and watching those soap operas you love in bed. And when you tell them you like them—when you tell them that you… you love them, they’re going to say it back.”

Sero looked at him with a mixture of sadness and pain. He knew what was coming. It didn’t make it easier.

“I am so, so sorry, Hanta,” Shouto wiped his face and his hand came away wet. “I wish I wanted that, but, I can’t. I-I don’t want simple and easy. It sounds terrible, I get that, but there’s something else out there for both of us. And someday, hopefully, we both find what we’re looking for.”

Shouto turned around and rubbed his eyes. He was already late to meet Katsuki—

“Wait!”

Shouto stopped before reaching the corner. Sero was staring it him with an unreadable expression, his hands balled into fists. It almost looked like he was debating something.

“What are you—“ Shouto began.

“Water,” Sero said in a quiet voice. “It’s umm, my feelings for you are like water.”

Water…

Shouto heard a distant dripping. He wiped his nose. This time it came away red. The room began to spin. Room? No, that wasn’t right. He was standing on the front steps of the dorms, watching a car drive away.

“Where’s Katsuki?” Shouto asked shakily.

Kirishima was standing next to him with tears in his eyes. He looked as lost as Shouto felt. 

“He left,” he said, and it sounded like glass shattering.

“What do you mean he left?”

The sky was dark. The lights in the windows began to fade, and Shouto looked around frantically, trying to hold onto the edges of the memory before the blackness returned.

“He’s going to America.”

Kirishima’s body was fading, red hair and eyes desaturating against a black backdrop.

“When is he coming back?” Shouto asked, even though he already knew the answer.

He already knew dammit.

Kirishima was gone now. The world continued to spin.

“He’s not,” the void replied.

Shouto closed his eyes and floated again.

Chapter Text

Katsuki’s therapist had once tried talking to him about trauma.

It was pointless, he’d thought at the time. Trauma wasn’t something that affected heroes. It couldn’t be something they let affect them. Because to be a hero was to push past that basal part of the brain. To be a hero was to refuse to be affected by the horrors and to do something about them.

She had argued that there was no escape from it, that there was no possible way Katsuki could continue being a hero and remain unfazed by the things he saw every day. Worst case is that he was eventually crushed by the weight of it all. Best case, he learned to cope in a healthy manner.

Katsuki had said that coping was for cowards, and she gave him a look.

‘Being a hero and being human aren’t two different things, Mr. Bakugou. The trauma you face on the job can only do so much to desensitize you, but someday, that trauma will hit closer to home, and you will be woefully unequipped to deal with it.’

Fuck her for always being right.

“Kacchan! Kacchan, we have to get him out of the car!”

Katsuki stood several paces away, frozen and as pale as his breath hanging in the air.

“The door is frozen shut,” Deku was saying, his voice frantic. “I can’t get to him!”

The world slowed around them. Katsuki’s lungs burned. It was so cold, colder than it had any reason to be, even in late winter. Deku’s voice faded in and out, drowned out almost completely by the pounding of Katsuki’s pulse in his ears.

“Kacchan, I need you to use your quirk; you have to blast the door off, it’s the only way!”

But Katsuki couldn’t. He couldn’t force his legs to move. He couldn’t make himself take a single step toward the wreckage. Because if he stayed still, then none of it was real. If he didn’t get close to the car then Shouto was alive and okay, and Katsuki hadn’t lost the only person he cared about. The only person he—

“Shouto!” Deku slammed his fist against the side of the car, causing shards of ice to spray outwards. “Shouto! Can you hear me?”

“Hnnngg….”

A low, strangled noise came from inside the car, and Katsuki let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I hear him! He’s alive!” Deku said with a relieved sob.

All at once, the world began to spin again, and Katsuki ran. He ran until he crashed into the door panel, catching himself against it and trying to form words around the emotions that were choking him.

“F-fuck, we-we’re here pretty boy, we’re gonna get you out…”

He splayed his palms against the ice-covered façade, and Deku nodded frantically.

“Okay, Kacchan, we don’t know how badly he’s injured, so don’t let off a full explosion. Start with a few microbursts and we’ll see how the car holds.”

“I-I don’t…”

Katsuki gritted his teeth and curled his shaking fingers against the ice. Nitroglycerine was combustible, not flammable, so explosions were the only way Katsuki could produce heat, but what Deku was asking for required ultra-fine control over such a destructive quirk.

Don’t get him wrong, he had the control to do it. He’d been training his entire career for that kind of finesse. He’d exercised it flawlessly during hero work and rescue efforts, but… this was different. The cold fucked with his quirk to begin with, but it wasn’t just that. It was colder than normal, and this was Shouto and no matter how hard he tried, Katsuki couldn’t get his hands to stop fucking shaking.

‘Someday, that trauma will hit closer to home…’

“I don’t think I can do it,” he shook his head. “I… fuck, I don’t think I have that much control right now.”

Deku gave a sympathetic look that almost got himself hit and then started chewing his lip.

“Okay, okay we just need to work out something else. Shouto, can you hear me? Shouchan, it’s Izuku, I need you to thaw yourself out a bit, okay?”

Katsuki knelt down next to Deku and nodded. “There’s too much ice, pretty boy, you gotta thaw it for us.”

“Th-thaw…?” Shouto rasped quietly.

“Yeah! Yeah, use your left side and then we can get you out, you just gotta make sure not to overdo it, because—”

Because the car might explode, he didn’t get to add.

Before Shouto had even opened his eyes, he knew where he was.

He let his ears adjust to the steady beep of his heart monitor and the low voices in the hall as nurses strolled past. And then he focused beyond that, on the gentle patter of rain against glass and the distant roll of thunder.

Shouto was no stranger to hospitals.

He opened his eyes, thankful that the lights were off, the room illuminated only by what little grey light filtered in from the windows. His limbs felt heavy, but he wasn’t covered in bandages, so they must have brought in Recovery Girl or Eri.

With a little effort, he was able to reach for the pitcher of water next to his bed and pour himself a glass. Shouto tried to remember exactly what had landed him here in the first place. He didn’t recall patrol or any villain fights. In fact, he was pretty sure he had been off duty because of the wedding…

His eyes widened a fraction as the memories began to flood back in. He remembered the cold, remembered sitting in an icy cocoon of his own making, and before that, he remembered the patch of black ice that sent him sliding off the road.

He remembered the wedding and the press and a bright spotlight, and he remembered taking the car—Katsuki’s car—and all of the things Katsuki said, and then Shouto took a break from remembering to stumble to the bathroom and retch into the sink until his muscles ached.

“Shouchan, are you in there?”

Shouto groaned and splashed water on his face before opening the bathroom door. Izuku was standing by his hospital bed, concern and relief etched on his face in equal measure.

“I just left to grab some lunch, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“It’s okay.”

Fuck, Shouto’s voice sounded terrible. He cleared his throat and sat down on the edge of the bed to grab another glass of water.

“What happened?” He asked when his throat stopped feeling so raw. “I mean, I know what happened. I just… how did I end up here?”

Izuku sat on the bench lining the windows and sighed. “We saw you leaving the wedding and followed. We found you after the wreck, but you’d frozen yourself in the car. Which was a good idea, by the way. The doctors think the ice absorbed a lot of energy from the impact.”

Izuku leaned forward to pour him more water and Shouto accepted it silently.

“But we couldn’t get to you with the door frozen. Then when I told you that we needed you to thaw yourself out, you went a little overboard.”

“Overboard?”

Izuku exhaled sharply. “You set yourself on fire and the gas tank exploded.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Izuku gave him a look then. It gave Shouto the impression that he was about to hear the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ speech, and he briefly thought that maybe staying in the car would have been preferable.

“What were you thinking, Sho? Stealing Kacchan’s car like that? Driving drunk?”

Shouto looked down at his hands. “I know… I know it was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t get it. You spent years after Kacchan left doing stupid, self-destructive shit, and I forgave you. I forgave you every time because the only person you were putting in danger was yourself. But this? You could have died! You could have killed someone! You’re lucky your quirk burned off the alcohol in your blood, or you would be losing your hero license.”

Shouto winced.

“Izuku… I don’t know what to tell you. I-I just…” Shouto curled his hands in his lap and sighed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter why I did it.”

“Oh no, please continue,” a familiar and not at all welcomed voice came from the door. “Fucking enlighten us as to why you stole my car and tried to off yourself.”

“Okay, first of all, it was an accident, and second,” Shouto grit his teeth and bit back a cough. “It—it doesn’t concern you. Now get out.”

Izuku widened his eyes, and Shouto clenched his fist.

“Izuku can stay,” he added quietly. “But you,” he pointed to Katsuki. “Get out.”

Katsuki stiffened for a moment and then narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Your boyfriend doesn’t wanna coddle you after the stupid shit you pulled, so you kick him out? Make it make sense, peppermint.”

“We’re not boyfriends, Bakugou,” Shouto hissed. “We never were.”

“Am I fucking missing something here? The doc didn’t say anything about memory loss.”

Shouto scowled. “Oh, I remember everything perfectly. The wedding, stealing your dumb car, wrecking it. Why are you even here, Bakugou? You said it yourself, you can’t stand the sight of me, so why don’t you just fuck off back to America?”

Katsuki took a step forward. “I don’t know what this is about, but obviously you’re not thinking—"

“I was fine! I was happy… well, I wasn’t happy, but I was going to be happy, and you came back, and you made me think you fucking cared, you asshole!”

Katsuki threw his hands up. “Shouto, what the fuck are you on about? I do care! What the fuck else have I been trying to prove to you these past weeks?”

“I heard you, Bakugou. I heard you talking with Eijirou. You left because you couldn’t stand the sight of me, you said it yourself.”

Red eyes widened, and Shouto laughed bitterly. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d hear that part, did you, you fucking asshole!”

Beside him, Deku inhaled and glared at Katsuki accusingly. Katsuki ignored him, keeping his eyes on Shouto.

“And let me guess, you fucking drama queen, you didn’t stick around to hear the rest of it?”

Shouto blinked at him, feeling a fraction of anger fizzle out, replaced with confusion. “W-what?”

“Because what I said,” Katsuki snapped. “Was that I couldn’t stand the sight of you with someone else. What I meant was that I ran because I knew Sero was going to confess, and I thought you’d finally see that I didn’t deserve you. I thought you’d accept him and break my fucking heart, so I ran! I ran because I was young and in love, and I was a fucking coward who knew that seeing you happy with someone else would rip me apart. And that was the final nail in the coffin, wasn’t it? The last shred of proof that I never deserved you in the first place.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Shouto was—well, he was an idiot, for starters—but wrong and reckless also came to mind. In desperate need of therapy was also a contender.

“Excuse me, this is a hospital. If you don’t lower your voices, we will have to ask you to leave.”

The three heroes turned to the nurse in the doorway, their faces colored with embarrassment.

“Y-yes, sorry,” Izuku sputtered out. He turned to Katsuki and Shouto with wide eyes and then pointed at the door. “Well, I’m just going to let you two talk. Good? Good.” And then he was chasing the nurse out of the room and slamming the door before anyone could protest.

Silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating like drowning in oil. Shouto couldn’t bring himself to look Katsuki in the eyes, because he wasn’t quite ready to admit aloud how wrong he had been or how dumb he was. Hell, he wouldn’t blame Katsuki for wanting to break up with him after the stunt with his car. Izuku had said it exploded, so it was definitely totaled. Maybe he could buy Katsuki another one? How much could a car cost, anyway? Maybe if he bought him two cars…

“I can hear you thinking, idiot.”

“No, you can’t. I mean… I’m not. That’s… my head is… empty.”

“Wow, eloquent.”

Katsuki huffed and sat down next to Shouto on the small hospital bed, their shoulders brushing. Shouto stiffened at the contact, unable to tear his eyes away from the wall. They were teetering on a razor’s edge, as they so often had been in their time together, and this was one of those moments. Katsuki could run again, and Shouto wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. Or they could talk. They could finally admit all of the things they’d been keeping in and agree to be open and honest and to have some damn communication every once in a while. It was a terrifying prospect, but it was preferable, wasn’t it? He would do a lot to make Katsuki stay.

“Are… are you going to leave?” He whispered.

Katsuki didn’t answer at first, and Shouto held his breath for those few terrible seconds. When Katsuki finally spoke, his voice was softer than Shouto was sure it had ever been.

“No. I’m not gonna leave, dumbass.”

Katsuki moved his hand to hover over Shouto’s thigh. He kept it there, held aloft until slowly, tentatively he let it fall. Shouto felt the warmth of his palm through the hospital gown, and his eyes began to sting.

“I’m sorry about your car.”

“I don’t give a shit about the car.”

“I’m sorry for eavesdropping.”

Katsuki sighed. “I don’t care about that either.”

“I’m sorry for almost getting myself killed.”

“Yeah, I’m still pretty fucking pissed about that if we’re being honest.”

Shouto grimaced and tugged at the hem of his hospital gown. He could feel those red eyes boring into him. It made him feel like crawling into a hole and never leaving.

“What is it, Sho? Spit it out.”

“You… you said you were young and in love… back at Yuuei. Did you really mean that?”

Katsuki moved his hand to cup Shouto’s cheek, forcing him to turn and finally meet his gaze. Shouto felt like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, wanting to run but frozen save for his heart hammering in his chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did. And somehow,” he paused and took a breath, his eyes intense. “I still fucking do, even when you do reckless, dramatic shit.”

Shouto’s face reddened. “Y-you still love me?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” The corner of his mouth ticked up and he stroked his thumb over Shouto’s cheekbone. “Been in love with you since you accused that motivational speaker of fucking your dad. Not much you could do after that to make me stop.”

Shouto laughed at that, despite himself, finally setting loose a tear that rolled down his face.

“I-I think,” he started, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “We should work on our communication skills.”

“Yeah, no shit, ice princess.”

Shouto placed his hand over Katsuki’s where it still rested on his cheek and leaned into his touch. “I promise to listen from now on… and to work on trusting you. And to always let you drive; I told you that thing was a death trap.”

“Hey, watch it! It’s not the car’s fault you don’t know how to fucking drive,” he said with a grin.

Shouto smiled back at him, feeling—for the first time since the wedding—something other than pain. But it didn’t make everything sunshine and rainbows.

“I… also think I should talk to the Hero Commission, let them know what happened. Izuku was right, I was reckless and put people in danger. I should have my license suspended at the very least.”

“Deku already looked into it. They can’t do anything since your blood alcohol was too low by the time they tested, and the wreck was ruled an accident. You’re off the hook for now, but if you ever drink and drive again, the Hero Commission ain’t gonna be the one to rain fucking hell down on you.”

Shouto nodded. “Good. I’ll hold you to that. Now…” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think we can get out of here before my dad shows up?”

Katsuki snorted inelegantly and stood, pulling Shouto to his feet and turning toward the door.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill. I’ll grab the damn paperwork.”

“Katsuki?”

Katsuki hummed and turned back toward him.

“Can you… say it again? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Tsk. I love you, pretty boy. Nothin’s gonna change—”

Shouto didn’t let him finish. He surged forward, cutting him off with a forceful kiss. Katsuki let out a sound of shock at the way their lips collided, and then he was kissing Shouto back with an equal amount of fervor. The world faded around them. There was no hospital. No threat named Enji looming over them. No games. It was just them, as they always should have been, two people who were painfully in love. Two idiots who had taken seven damn years to figure it out.

Shouto pulled away just far enough to breathe. “Say it again,” he urged. He just needed to be sure.

“I love you.”

Another kiss.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again…”

“I love you.”

“Just one more time…”

Katsuki pulled away from where he was sucking another mark into Shouto’s neck.

“I love you, you insatiable little slut.”

“Hey—haa oh…” Shouto swatted him softly, and then broke off onto a moan.

They’d finally made it back to Katsuki’s apartment after the whirlwind that the hospital had been. Which admittedly took much longer than planned after Endeavor had shown up.

As soon as they had made it past the threshold, Katsuki promptly carried Shouto to bed. He had been hesitant at first at the idea of sex following Shouto’s injuries, but all thoughts of taking things slow had flown out the window with the way Shouto tore at his clothing and demanded more.

Katsuki couldn’t blame him though. His pulse was racing, hands and lips unable to keep off of Shouto’s body. It felt good to finally say it, to admit to his feelings for fucking once. Maybe it had been seeing Shouto in that wreckage, thinking that he may have lost his chance to tell the bastard he loved him, but Katsuki would say it as many times as Shouto needed to hear it. He’d never stop letting him know.

Shouto wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s neck and kissed him deeply, their tongues tangling together. Katsuki’s cock was painfully hard, leaking against Shouto’s thigh, his fingers already slick with lube and buried in Shouto’s tight heat.

Katsuki curled his fingers and Shouto gasped into his mouth, clutching at his neck and rocking against his hand.

“Please, Kat… I’m ready, just give it to me.”

“Ah ah ah, you gotta tell me what you want, pretty boy.”

“Please,” he begged. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

Katsuki smirked. “But I am inside of you,” he said, scissoring his fingers for good measure.

“Your cock,” he whined. “Need your cock in me…”

“That’s better.”

Katsuki pulled his fingers free and sat up between Shouto’s legs. The bottle of lube conveniently rolled toward him with the movement, and he used it to thoroughly coat his cock.

Shouto looked up at him with his lust drunk gaze, skin pinkened from his cheeks to his chest. Katsuki could spend hours admiring him, taking in the enticing view of him resting against tousled sheets.

A smirk unfurled on Shouto’s face, and he pushed himself to his elbows.

“What are you waiting for? Want to play rock, paper, scissors for old time’s sake?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and leaned forward to take his lips. With a contented sigh, Shouto returned the kiss, falling back onto the bed. His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gently tugging at Katsuki’s bottom lip. Ahh, it was so easy to distract him.

Taking his momentary lapse of concentration as an opportunity, Katsuki positioned himself with one hand and entered him in a single thrust.

Shouto cried out against his lips, eyes flying open in shock. Blue and grey rolled back in response, his back arching against the bed. Katsuki swore at the way his ass gripped him, the sublime heat and pressure enveloping his cock, twitching around him as Shouto’s body struggled to adjust.

He buried his face against Shouto’s neck, whispering praises against his pulse point.

“Fuck baby, you feel so fuckin’ good, I could stay like this for hours. Let your slutty little hole keep my cock warm for me.”

Shouto wrapped his legs around Katsuki’s hips, his abdomen flexing as he lifted his ass off the bed. Like this, Katsuki felt impossibly deep, the angle allowing him to reach parts of Shouto that made both of them see stars.

“C’mon, Kat,” he whined. “Stop teasing and fuck me, already...”

Katsuki’s resulting smile was all teeth, and he nodded. “With pleasure, princess.”

He sat up and hooked his hands behind Shouto’s knees, pressing down, forcing him nearly in half. Shouto no longer had to work to keep his hips off of the bed, Katsuki would make sure of it. He slid out until the head of his cock began to pull at Shouto’s rim, and then slammed back inside, setting a brutal rhythm at once.

Shouto came almost instantly, his pretty cock shooting thick ropes of cum out over his chest, some reaching as far as his chin. Katsuki fucked him through it, pushing harder, holding his knees by his ears until Shouto’s spend dripped down his neck and onto the pillows beneath him.

Katsuki dove forward, dragging his tongue out over the mess and then forcing it into Shouto’s mouth. Shouto’s hole tightened around him in response. No surprise that he enjoyed it, the pervert. Not that Katsuki had room to judge him for it.

Their kiss was bitter and salty. He slowed his hips to savor it, switching to deep, steady strokes. Shouto moaned each time Katsuki’s cock slid past his prostate, his nails digging lines into his back. They’d fucking sting for days, but Katsuki welcomed the reminder of Shouto falling apart beneath him.

“Kat… Katsuki,” Shouto gasped, his voice broken and desperate. There were tears at the corners of his eyes already. How fucking gorgeous. “I c-can’t, you’re going to make me…”

Katsuki leaned back onto his knees and let Shouto’s legs rest on his shoulders. Then, with a perverse kind of sadism that he knew Shouto secretly enjoyed, he wrapped his fingers around Shouto’s cock and began pumping in time with his hips.

Shouto keened and shook his head, the tears falling freely now.

“It’s too much… too much, Kat, I can’t take it—“

“You can, baby boy, you can take it.”

Shouto blinked up at him with watery eyes, his cheeks red and splotchy. Katsuki stilled his movements, fingers still loosely wrapped around his twitching cock.

“I love you, Sho. Let me take care of you.”

It seemed that it was all the reassurance Shouto needed. He nodded shakily, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Katsuki rolled his hips and continued stroking him. His entire body was strung tight, an instrument in Katsuki’s hold, playing the most beautiful music.

Shouto cried, gasped, moaned, his breath hitching over and over to match each wet slap of skin. Katsuki’s balls ached as they bounced against his ass, his cock hardening almost imperceptibly.

A particularly harsh thrust caused Shouto to cry out, and then his body went rigid, squeezing Katsuki so tightly that he could scarcely move.

“So fucking good… that’s it, come for me...”

Without another word, Shouto came, his cock pulsing in Katsuki’s hand, release dripping down his knuckles. Katsuki followed immediately, burying himself one last time, riding the waves of Shouto’s orgasm, letting the rhythmic spasms milk every last drop of cum from him.

Katsuki pulled out with a wince, watching in mesmerization as his spend dripped out of Shouto’s winking hole. Damn, he really wanted to fuck him again, but exhaustion seemed to have other ideas.

He collapsed next to Shouto in bed, chest heaving. Shouto too attempted to catch his breath.

“Katsuki?”

Shouto wiped his eyes and propped himself up on his side. Katsuki turned toward him and hummed.

“I love you, too,” he said with an earnest look. “Think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Katsuki’s chest swelled with warmth, and he fought the urge to do something sappy like kiss his stupidly pretty face.

“Back in school?”

Shouto nodded and curled into his side, resting his head on his chest. Katsuki carded his fingers through his hair, playing with the silken strands absentmindedly.

“Then too,” Shouto said against him. “I was going to tell you at graduation. And then Hanta confessed…” Shouto pushed himself up from Katsuki’s chest and nibbled at his bottom lip. “When he did, he gave me this speech. And it was super romantic and poetic and… and through the entire thing, I couldn’t help but think… I wished it was you giving it. I had thought it before then, but I think… that’s when I knew for sure.”

Katsuki huffed, lips twisted into a pout. Tape Arms, that asshole. “I had a romantic speech too, you know?”

Shouto smiled, a small, shy thing that made Katsuki really want to kiss him. “Really?”

“Yep. It was a whole thing. Super fucking romantic. Stuff of movies.”

Shouto breathed a laugh and flicked Katsuki on the chest. “I think I’d like to hear it someday.”

“Eh, you will… soon as I can remember what the fuck it was about.”

Shouto dropped his head and laughed against Katsuki’s chest, laying back down for Katsuki to continue playing with his hair.

“It was about water…” Katsuki said after a while. He wasn’t even sure if Shouto was still awake. “The speech. I was gonna tell you that I loved you like water.”

Shouto went still and slowly looked up at him with a confused expression. “Like…Water?”

“Yeah, I think I can remember it, if you wanna hear what I was gonna say.”

Something flashed across Shouto’s eyes, something Katsuki couldn’t quite get a read on, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Instead, Shouto smiled, something content in his sleepy gaze.

“No need,” he said softly as he laid his head back down on Katsuki’s chest. “Something tells me I already know.”

Chapter Text

3 years later

“You know you don’t have to come, right? Two events in one day is a bit much, and this isn’t really a big deal.”

Katsuki sighed heavily and looked down, trying to remember how to tie a goddamned Windsor. “It is a big deal, Sho, I’m coming.”

“Are you sure?” Shouto asked, peeking his head out from their room. “You can always skip the award ceremony and go to the venue early…”

“Don’t say it.”

“You know, if you wanted to—”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“—Object early, get it out of your system before the grooms and guests arrive.”

“Fuck off!”

Shouto laughed and walked over, swatting his hands out of the way and fixing his tie for him. “You know I’m kidding. I just promised Hana I’d never let you live that down.”

“Stop trying to change the subject, I’m coming with you and that’s final.”

Shouto huffed. “I’m only going because they’re unveiling the memorial for the ten-year anniversary of the attack. I don’t care about the award. I didn’t do it for any kind of recognition. I… remember being really upset about it, actually.”

“Upset, huh? Ten years… that woulda been just after graduation, right?”

“We were still at Yuuei, actually.” Shouto leaned against their dresser and stared out the window. “Do you remember that time I barged into the dorms after patrol and challenged you to rock, paper, scissors? If I remember correctly, I had been drinking.”

“I remember you being bent out of shape about something, all you would say is that patrol was rough. Damn, it’s hard to believe that it’s been that long.”

Shouto laughed quietly. “Yeah…”

“So…?” Katsuki prodded.

Shouto turned toward him with a small frown. “During the fight, I made a mistake. I assumed there was only one villain. By the time I realized there was an accomplice, it was too late. The second bomb went off and one of the civilians I had been protecting was partially crushed by the rubble.”

Katsuki winced. He knew the feeling. The debilitating weight of responsibility felt for every innocent life lost. Lying awake at night wondering what he could have done differently. Each small mistake adding up, choking him with regret.

“I get it, Sho, I do. But they wouldn’t be acknowledging you publicly if they really thought you’d fucked up that day.”

“Yeah… I guess. Support hadn’t had enough time to fully evacuate the building across the street after the first blast, and then the second explosion damaged structural supports in the underground garage. I… used my ice to stabilize the building till they could finish evacuation efforts. I also found out later that the woman who had been crushed survived. Although, she’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

“I don’t know, Peppermint, that sounds like a major win to me.”

Shouto leaned into him, resting his head against Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki shifted a little, moving in with his right side, hoping Shouto wouldn’t feel the pressure of the small box in his left pocket.

“I know,” Shouto said. “In hindsight, it seems like a big accomplishment. At the time, I thought it was a loss. But now I’ve got more experience. I’ve grown up a little, been through some things, experienced life. The world is messy and imperfect, and people will always get hurt, but through the pain and loss and suffering there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. If only we hold on long enough to see it.”

“Well said,” Katsuki whispered into his hair. “I love you, Pretty Boy.”

Shouto laughed and pulled away to give him a chaste kiss. “I love you too, Blasty. Now let’s get going, we can’t be late.”

Katsuki and Shouto broke apart once they were in the plaza. Shouto left to greet the commissioners on stage, and Katsuki eyed the small section of seating, gauging where he should sit.

“Bakugou, over here!”

He turned, scowling a little but walking to sit next to the fucker anyway. Better to be next to someone he knew than a random extra.

“Long time no see,” Sero said, patting Katsuki on the shoulder. “Excited about the wedding later?”

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t wait to listen to the vows, it’s gonna be wonderful.”

Tape Arms laughed. “Ahh man, I bet Midoriya’s vows are ten minutes long at least.”

“Fifteen if he talks fast,” Katsuki corrected. “Why I had to listen to him practice when I’m Shitty Hair’s best man is beyond me.”

“Hah, he probably had to read to you cause Sho would have spaced after the first two minutes.” Sero paused for a beat, and then smirked. “Speaking of weddings and you and Shouto…”

“I swear to fuck if you make a joke about me objecting, I will make this plaza look like it did ten years ago!”

Sero held his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax, bro. I was just gonna ask when it was your turn!”

Katsuki glanced at the stage momentarily, ensuring that Shouto wasn’t paying attention, and then he stealthily pulled the small velvet box out of his pocket and flashed it to Sero.

Sero’s eyes widened. “BRO! You’re actually gonna propose?”

“Shh! Keep it down!” Katsuki slipped the ring back in his pocket. There were more people sitting around them now, and he didn’t want to risk Shouto finding out from the fucking press. “But yeah, I’m gonna ask the fucker to marry me.”

Sero looked back at the stage where an official of the Hero Commission had begun speaking, and then he turned back to Katsuki with a whisper.

“Listen, man. I’m super happy for you, and you know Sho’s gonna say yes. There’s just… something I need to tell you. To apologize for, really.” He looked down at his lap and flexed his fingers, and Katsuki eyed him warily.

“It’s about graduation… back when you gave that whole speech about what I should feel for him, and I said it was stupid.”

Realization dawned on him, and Katsuki shook his head. “Nope, stop it.”

“What I want to say is that your speech—”

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I need to say this—”

“You really don’t.”

“When I went to confess to him—”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Your speech—”

“Shutyourfuckingmouth.”

“I told Sho—”

“I know! Okay? Just-just stop fucking talking, fuck,” Katsuki said.

“Wait, you… know? Like, you… you know know?” Sero asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah, fucking Christ, haven’t I been telling you to drop it for the last hour?”

Tape Arms laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… think it’s only been like a minute.”

“I cannot remember a time before you started running your mouth.”

They both fell into silence for a few moments, listening to the first speaker wrap up. Katsuki was just beginning to think the asshole had dropped the subject when he leaned in again.

“So… how long have you known?” Sero whispered.

“I don’t fucking know,” Katsuki groaned and watched a woman in a wheelchair cross the stage toward Shouto with the award. “Like three years?”

“THREE—”

Katsuki clapped him on the shoulder roughly and grit his teeth. “Watch your fucking volume!” He hissed.

With a little whimper, Sero nodded. He winced when Katsuki pulled his hand away, rubbing his shoulder like a drama queen.

“S-so… you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Shouto told you?”

“Yep.”

“And… and I’m not dead?”

“Nope.”

Shouto accepted the award and knelt down next to the woman for a picture.

“But…” Sero continued, like Katsuki hadn’t been done with this conversation before it even started. “You spent seven years gone because of me? Shouto got his heart broken—”

Katsuki glared at him and let out a huff. “Listen up Tape Arms, cause I’m only gonna say this once. I spent seven years gone because of me. I left because of my own damn insecurities, and no plagiarized fucking confession of yours did anything to sway me. Was it a dick move? Yeah, sure, whatever. But Sho made his choice, and so did I. Now can you shut the fuck up so we can listen to his speech?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Cool. Cool.”

The silence lasted all of two seconds before Tape Arms leaned back in.

“You know, if it’s any consolation, I didn’t know your speech was about him when I used it. I mean, I figured it out after he rejected me for the second time. But then you left, and he was heartbroken, and I felt like such a fucking jackass for it.”

Katsuki snorted at that. “Second time? You mean he said no, you used my speech, and then he had to say no to your ass again?”

“Yeah, laugh it up. Get it out of your system, I deserve it.”

Katsuki did laugh—as quietly as possible—and then he turned to smirk at Sero.

“Were they at least nice rejections? You were pretty sure he wasn’t gonna be a dick about it.”

“Yeah… he was nice, let me down real easy. And he was right about some things. But then again, so were you.”

“Hmm?”

“I umm…” he cleared his throat. “I met someone. He works at that used bookshop across from Denki’s agency. He slipped his number into a manga volume I bought, and we’ve kinda sorta been seeing each other ever since.”

“Kinda sorta?” Katsuki asked with a raised brow.

“Okay, not just kinda sorta. I’m head over heels for him. But, what I mean is that… being together is comfortable and sweet and natural. And we do manga nights and movie dates, and when I confessed, when I told him I loved him… he said it back.”

“Hey, good for you, dick.”

Katsuki punched him lightly on the shoulder, and Sero laughed. On stage, Shouto was pulling away a sheet to reveal a beautifully carved marble monument, the names of lives lost engraved across the front.

“And you know what else?” Sero whispered.

“What?” Katsuki asked, even though he knew. He could see it in Sero’s eyes: the glint, that small spark of passion, of chaos, when he spoke about this new guy. It was the same way Katsuki and Shouto had always looked at one another. Good for him.

“Loving him feels a little bit like water.”

“To the grooms!”

Everyone held up their glasses to toast, the room devolving into cheers and whistles as Shitty Hair pulled Deku into another kiss.

It had been a good wedding, one without objections, or otherwise embarrassing incidents, he might add. Not that several jokes hadn’t been made at Katsuki’s expense. It was after one such joke that Katsuki had less-than-politely excused himself from the table, looking around the room in search of Shouto.

“Kacchan!” Deku slid next to him with a drink in hand and a knowing smile on his face. “He’s out on the west balcony.”

“Thanks, nerd. Congrats by the way.”

Deku bumped his shoulder. “Aww, Kacchan. It almost sounds like you care.”

“Shut up before I regret coming to this stupid thing.”

“Don’t lie. You care a lot more than you let on. If not for me, then for Eiji and Sho.”

Katsuki snorted, not really able to argue. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m leaving.”

“You do that,” he said. “Oh, and Kacchan? Break his heart again, and I’ll break your kneecaps.”

Heh, for once I don’t think he’s joking, Katsuki thought.

“Did you give him the same speech?”

Deku laughed. “More or less,” he said to Katsuki’s surprise.

Katsuki left the conversation there, walking toward the balcony and ignoring what sounded suspiciously like good luck from Deku behind him.

Katsuki pushed past the curtains and opened the glass door, sliding outside and taking in the peaceful silence of the balcony. Shouto was leaning against the railing, staring out over the city, draped in an array of pinks and oranges to match the sky.

“Hey Pretty Boy,” Katsuki said.

Shouto grinned over his shoulder. “Hey Blasty.”

Katsuki came to stand next to him. “Good wedding,” he said. “Took ‘em long enough, didn’t it?”

“We have no room to talk,” Shouto said with a laugh.

“Heh, guess you’re right.”

There was muffled music coming from inside, the sounds of voices and laughter. Katsuki looked down with a small smile.

“Hey, Kat?”

Katsuki hummed, turning to look at him.

“One last game for old time’s sake?”

Katsuki laughed in surprise. “What’s the point? We both know you’ll just play scissors.”

“Nope,” Shouto said, shaking his head. “I won’t. I promise.”

The sun was setting behind him, lighting his silhouette. Katsuki couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight. It felt like they were on the verge of something, sitting in a waiting room. In the next few hours, Katsuki would propose, and Shouto would say yes, and they’d start the next chapter of their lives together. But here, on this balcony, Shouto’s fist outstretched, everything felt a touch more simple.

“Okay, fine,” Katsuki said with a huff. “But if you play scissors, I’m leaving.”

Shouto’s smile held something in it, like a secret Katsuki couldn’t quite figure out.

One.

Ten years they’d been at this dumb game.

Two.

All because of one drunken night.

Three.

And it had all culminated in this exact moment.

Katsuki played paper.

Shouto played rock.

“Wh…” Katsuki blinked down at his hand.

“Look at that,” Shouto said. “You win.”

And then, before Katsuki could even begin to process that Shouto had played anything other than scissors, Shouto knelt down on one knee and opened his hand.

This fucking bastard.

In the middle of his palm was a ring, a simple band with a single diamond embedded in it—a rock—how fucking funny.

“Katsuki,” Shouto started. “Will—”

“No,” Katsuki interrupted. “No!”

“N-no…?”

Shouto’s eyes were wide, expressions shifting from confusion to hurt and back again.

“No, no, no!” Katsuki groaned.

He reached in his pocket, pulling out the small box and opening it.

“I was supposed to be the one to propose first, dumbass!”

Shouto blinked at the ring, and after a few moments of processing, both of them lost it. Shouto fell back onto his ass, Katsuki collapsing next to him as they devolved into laughter.

God, they were both so fucking absurd.

“I thought you were rejecting me!” Shouto said between fits of laughter.

"As if I'd fucking do that!"

“You snooze, you lose, Kat.”

“Shut up! You’re not supposed to propose at a wedding! I was waiting till after, like a normal person,” Katsuki said.

Shouto grinned. “Well, like a normal person, I asked to make sure Izu and Eiji were both fine with it, and they said yes.”

“Oh, fuck no, that means everyone knows.”

“Yep,” Shouto said.

“There’s gonna be another spotlight when we walk in, isn’t there?”

Shouto nodded with a mischievous grin.

“Fuck, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, you want to marry me.”

Katsuki paused, taking a breath just to look at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I really fucking do.”

He pushed himself up, grabbing Shouto’s hand and hauling him to his feet.

Thankfully, both rings fit. The weight of his own felt strange on his finger, but not in any way that was bad. He wanted to stay out here, to maintain this small bubble where he could pretend that no one else existed in the world. But when it came to their friends, it was better to rip the bandage off early.

Shouto walked toward the door, like he could read Katsuki’s mind.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Not really, but…” Katsuki took a breath and laced their fingers together.

It hardly felt real, these past ten years. Going from not-quite-friends to not-quite-lovers and back again, and it had all started with that first game of rock, paper, scissors. But when it was all said and done, it was fitting for them, wasn’t it? To find each other by chance. To come back to one another by choice.

Shouto paused with one hand in Katsuki’s and the other on the door handle, silver ring glinting in the setting sunlight. And then, before they could go inside and be accosted by friends and family alike, he looked over his shoulder at Katsuki and smiled.

“On three.”