Bakugou isn’t exactly subtle when it comes to crushes. He’s straightforward like that—if he likes someone, he goes out of his way to tell them. If they like him, then cool. If they don’t, then…
Fuck, what if Deku doesn’t like him?
He yanks at his hair and gnaws on the end of his mechanical pencil like a rabid animal while Kirishima looks very concerned for him from his workbook. Whether it's because he's stuck on another math problem or because he genuinely cares, Bakugou doesn't want to know (except he knows it's the latter, because Kirishima is a good fucking person) because he's too busy with whatever's swirling around his head. Why was he getting cold feet now? He never had cold feet about this stuff before!
Then again, he never had a crush either.
He drops his pencil on the table and decides fuck it. If he doesn’t confess now, he’ll never confess ever and he can’t have that happen because he’s not some cowardly bitch.
“Kirishima,” Bakugou growls and the redhead next to him perks up.
“What’s up, bro?”
“Hype me up.”
Kirishima doesn’t even ask why. He’s a good friend like that—those go-getter types that spread positivity at the gym and compliment you all the time, that’s Kirishima. “You can do it, Baku-bro,” he cheers. “You’re the coolest! The manliest! Yesterday you killed the spider in the bathroom and saved us! You aced our English test! You are super man! ”
“It’s super manly,” Bakugou corrects in English as he gets up. He claps a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder, deciding he’s hyped as fuck now. “Thanks. Wish me luck.”
“Yeah! Super manly!” Kirishima echoes as Bakugou leaves the common room, “Wishing you luck, bro! I’m throwing you all the luck!”
“What’s he doing?” he hears Kaminari ask.
“Who knows,” Kirishima replies. “But you know how it is, when a bro needs a hype, you gotta hype.”
“What if you hyped him up for murder, though?”
Bakugou jumps on the balls of his feet as he tries to catch his breath. He only jogged up three flights, but it’s easier for him to say that the stairs took the wind out of his sails and not the crippling doubt bubbling in his stomach. He inhales, then exhales. Eats a mint, just in case the twenty minutes he spent brushing his teeth wasn’t enough. Inhales and exhales again. Sniffs his armpit—it’s alright, he doesn’t have bad BO.
“I don’t have bad BO,” he tells himself firmly.
“Thanks for telling me that?” Midoriya replies awkwardly and Bakugou nearly jumps at his sudden appearance. The other boy is shuffles awkwardly as he's notably blocked from leaving his room and Bakugou catches sight of some notebooks and pencils in Midoriya's hand. He was probably going to go study with his friends, Bakugou thinks as his eyes drift upwards, drawn to the customary text that plagues Midoriya’s t-shirt collection. It says Sorry in English with zero explanation as to what’s being apologized for. It’s stupid, but at least Sorry is easier to look at than Midoriya’s face.
“Do you need something, Kacchan?” Midoriya eyes him suspiciously. His eyes are squinted and wrinkled, making his freckles are more prominent than ever. Bakugou wants to kiss each and every single one of those dots. This is what that stupid shirt should be apologizing for, for making Bakugou into a fucking idiot who can’t think about anything normal. For making him want dumb shit like kisses and hand holding and late nights at the dinner table, drinking hot tea that goes cold because they’re too busy bickering to remember the tea. For wanting to spend an eternity with another human being.
His stomach does a backflip and then a front flip and then it pirouettes. He feels like he’s going to throw up. Why did he feel like he was going to throw up?
“Your face makes me want to throw up,” he tells Midoriya instead and then punches him.
God, why did he say that. Who let him say that?
Midoriya understandably blocks the punch with his entire hand because he fucking better, Bakugou didn’t fall in love with some two-bit trash who can’t defend himself . “Sorry, but this is the only face I have, so you’re going to have to deal with it, Kacchan.”
“I can cure it,” Bakugou says as he locks their fingers together and puts his other hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “I have a great face. So if I punch your face with my face, you’ll get a reasonably good face.”
That didn’t make any fucking sense, god he was so fucking stupid.
“You’re so fucking stupid,” he tells himself as he headbutts Midoriya.
“I’m stupid?” Midoriya yells as he shoves Bakugou backwards and pins him to the wall. “You’re stupid!”
Iida grounds them for wrestling on the thirdfloor because it’s against “regulations” or some shit. God, it’s like he doesn’t even go to hero-school, Bakugou thinks bitterly as he slams the door to his room and flops onto his bed, seething the entire time he thinks about Deku and how his holds have improved since their last spar. The loser could probably smash him against the training mat and-
He stops thinking, his entire body going into overload before he shoves his entire face into his pillow and screams, the smell of burnt cloth slips past his fingers, but the smell's better than the memory of Deku's face and the way his sweat dripped down his chin. When he feels his brain rearrange itself back into working condition, Bakugou throws his smoking pillow across the room and grabs another one to shove his face into. He's too tired to scream out his frustrations again and he can't burn another one because he likes sleeping with pillows, so he takes in the mixed scent of dry-cleaning and his own BO and thinks maybe.
He needs a new gameplan.
“Hey, Pikachu-humansona, c’mere.”
“I don’t like this new name at all,” Kaminari complains as he reaches Bakugou’s side. “Can we change it?”
Bakugou makes a show of thinking. He hums and he haws. He makes Kaminari sweat in fear because there were only two ways this could go and none of them were favorable. Either he’d be stuck as Pikachu-humansona or he’d have a much worst name.
“Alright, Pikachu-humansona, I’ll change it,” Bakugou sneers. “For a price.”
He’d only been called Pikachu-humansona twice, but Kaminari was already on his knees, begging like a pathetic worm. “Anything you want, dude. Just don’t call me that ever again.”
“I like Deku.”
“Help me hit on him.”
Jirou, being the nosy bitch she is, pops up from the woodwork and pulls Bakugou aside. “Are you sure?” she asks him. “Are you really, really sure you want this guy’s help?”
“Jirou, no,” Kaminari hisses from his place on the ground. “I can’t be Pikachu-humansona anymore. I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough.”
Bakugou pauses. “You’re right.”
He puts a hand on Jirou’s shoulder. “You can help.”
“Okay, so the first step to flirting,” Kaminari begins, “is the delivery.”
Bakugou nods and takes notes on his phone. Their place of operation is obviously his room because he'd sooner die than go near the garbage heap that was Kaminari's room and the closest they got to using Jirou's room as a base was when she led them to her door, slammed it in their faces, and came back out with a bag of chips. Bakugou's pretty bitter she led them on like that—it would have been easier for them to just meet up at his room if they weren't gonna use hers, but Jirou has good taste in spicy chips, so he lets her off with a bribe.
“If you’re confident, then it doesn’t matter," Kaminari continues over the sound of crackled chewing. He sounds pretty wise when he gives love advice, Bakugou thinks. Like a love guru or something. He's pretty much hanging on every word with a grain of salt. “Your tone and emotions will carry through and Midoriya will totally catch your drift.”
Would he though? Bakugou wasn’t so sure. Midoriya was a fucking cabbage with less than three braincells when it came to this kind of shit. It was fine though, because Bakugou was more than willing to carry their partnership with his more superior brain that contained over five braincells.
“...okay, now lay it on me.”
Kaminari gives him a look and flops his hand like a come-hither gesture. “Hit me.”
Bakugou raises his fist and immediately, his delivery is interrupted by a, “No-no! Not like that! I mean hit on me! Flirt!”
“Oh.” He drops his fist.
“Yeah, oh.” Kaminari bristles. “Geez, would you hit Midoriya?”
“If he asked me to, hell yeah.”
“You know, if this was any other couple, I’d call the police,” Jirou says as she shovels a handful of chips into her mouth, “but since it’s you guys, I feel it.”
“You feel domestic abuse?” Kaminari asked.
“I feel love-taps,” Jirou replied. “And hate-fucking. Fight sex.”
Bakugou wants to argue that she’s wrong and that he’d treat Deku right because he’s not a villain and domestic abuse is fucked up, but at the same time, his stupid brain’s locked onto fight-sex and he's intrigued.
“What is it, Kacchan?”
They’re in the gym right now. It’s part of their routine to spar with each other—a little bit of them time, if you will. The only time they can be true to each other outside of wrestling in the dorm living room and every other public space they make eye contact in.
The gym is their only sanctum. It’s practically their right to christen it however they wanted. Bakugou very much wanted to make that fight-sex happen.
He breaks out of his reverie and glares heatedly at the boy across from him. “I hope you’re ready for the smackdown of a lifetime,” he declares with the utmost confidence. “‘Cause I’m about to take your ass to Pound Town.”
Midoriya meets his gaze and says, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” before he pounces Bakugou with the ferocity of a wild animal.
“You know, when I said ‘break a leg,’ I didn’t mean it like this,” Kaminari says as Bakugou limps out of the nurse’s office. Jirou looks like she’s nodding in agreement, but a second glance proves that no. She’s just headbanging to a sick-beat. She has no clue what's going on.
When she catches sight of Bakugou, she stops her music and stares at his bandaged leg blankly. “You were supposed to break your ass,” she tells him. “Or break Midoriya’s ass. I don’t know how you live your lives. But it looks like you messed up big time.”
“Shut up,” he growls halfheartedly. “This is your fault. It was your idea for me to hit on him during our spar.”
“Is it?” She asks. “Because I could have sworn I told you to grab some flowers and give them to Midoriya before you did anything. Which you didn’t, considering Midoriya doesn't have any flowers and you have a broken leg. Not a broken dick.”
Did she? Bakugou thinks back to their conversation. His brain kind of turned off after he heard “fight-sex” but he vaguely recalled Jirou mouthing something like ‘flowers’ before he went back to hyper-focusing on the idea of beating the shit out of Deku.
Jirou crosses her arms and looks at him expectantly. Bakugou wonders what she’s expecting.
“What line did you use?” Kaminari asks, eager to get things over with and to finally rid himself of being known as Pikachu-humansona.
“I used two lines,” Bakugou counts them off. “‘Hope you’re ready for a smackdown’ and ‘I’m gonna take you to PoundTown’- why are you looking at me like that?”
“Those are bad,” Kaminari whispers as he drags his hand down his face. “You’re really bad at this.”
“I’d like to see you try better,” Bakugou retorts.
“You should have added something about your penis in there,” Jirou advises. “Or your ass. Like ‘I’m gonna spank your ass into PoundTown with my massive dong.’ But you know, Midoriya might not be into BDSM so maybe it’s for the best.”
“That’s also really bad,” Kaminari tells them. “Don’t use any of those lines. And never ever use 'dong' to unironically describe your penis.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
Jirou raises her hand and when Bakugou lets her speak, she drops the most amazing pick-up line he’s ever heard in his entire life.
“No,” Kaminari says. “That’s bad. Don’t even think of-”
Midoriya looks positively gleeful to see Bakugou when the blond steps into the living room, ditching his friends and bouncing towards the blond like a puppy on crack.
“Kacchan! I’m so sorry about your leg—how is it? Did Recovery Girl fix it up?”
“You’re trash, Deku.” Bakugou tells him and Midoriya immediately adopts a sour face. It’s adorable. Usually people liked Midoriya’s ‘cute’ faces but Bakugou found himself reveling in the broccoli-brain’s disgust. His absolute repulsion. The way his face wrinkled up like an old prune? Spectacular. Like sure, Midoriya’s default face was cute. But the rare expressions that stained his face? Bakugou felt like they were for him and only him. Only he, armed with weaponized childhood memories and internal knowledge of Deku's buttons, was capable of making and breaking him. It was kind of a power trip, really.
“Thanks for telling me that,” Midoriya replies and just when he’s about to turn away, Bakugou grabs him.
“I’m gonna take you out,” Bakugou declares before he lets go and watches Midoriya walk back to his friends.
Halfway through, he realizes that he didn't take Midoriya anywhere.
God, he's a fucking idiot.
“What’d he say?” Uraraka asks excitedly.
“Uuh, that I was trash and he was going to take me out,” Midoriya replies awkwardly.
“Huh. Sounds like a threat,” Todoroki drones. He looks across the room and makes deliberate eye-contact with Bakugou. He then takes Midoriya’s hand in an attempt to soothe him before he makes an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Bakugou.
Of course, Half-and-Half isn’t very subtle when it comes to this shit, so Midoriya immediately turns around to see Bakugou still hanging out by the stairs.
Quickly, in an effort to look cool, he makes some finger guns and clicks his tongue suavely before walking up the stairs backwards. It's on the third step that his baggy pants and incredible fashion sense betray him as his foot gets caught on his pant leg and falls to his death.
Bakugou wakes up to the face of an angel.
“Kacchan! Are you okay? Do you need to see Recovery Girl again? Oh geez, she’s gonna be so mad—quick! Check for concussion! How many fingers am I holding up?” Midoriya asks.
Delirious, Bakugou responds with, “I dunno man, how big’s your dick? I’ll take a whole hand up there for you.”
Midoriya’s face turns an interesting shade of red before he looks over to Todoroki, “Oh god, he’s dying. We have to get him to the ER.”
“Is the ER short for your ER-ection?” Bakugou slurs.
“Todoroki, we have to get Recovery Girl. Please get Recovery Girl.”
“Can she recover this dick, though?”
Todoroki looks down on Bakugou with disdain. “He’s fine,” he says over Midoriya’s frantic worries. “Men like these don’t need brains. They run purely on horny energy. Kaminari told me so.”
“And you trust Kaminari?” Midoriya shrills.
“He’s got a PHD,” Todoroki replies stoically. He nudges Bakugou with his toe and Bakugou immediately slaps at it. “It means Pretty Huge Dick. And he’s got a Doctorate in Love. Did you know Love Doctors are real? Kaminari has pretty good credentials.”
“Okay, so that didn’t work out,” Kaminari tells Bakugou when he comes to.
He’s back in his room and in his bed. If he slams his head against the wall hard enough, he’s pretty sure he can give himself retrograde amnesia.
Jirou stops him though. Actually wait—belay that. She just raised her hand because she was pretending to play air-guitar. God, Bakugou wants to know what kind of music she listens to while he makes a fool of himself. Maybe her playlist would be loud enough to just completely deafen him to reality. Just replace his feelings for Deku with Bon Jovi.
“You’re absolutely no help,” Kaminari tells her. “So we’re gonna follow my plan, alright?”
“I dunno if I can trust someone who says PHD stands for Pretty Huge Dick and calls himself a Love Doctor,” Bakugou tells him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Kacchan, did you get a date with Midoriya yet? No? Then let this Love Doctor show you how it’s done.”
“Alright, alright, alright,” Kaminari’s voice thrums against Bakugou’s inner ear like an annoying fly and he resists the urge to go to Kaminari’s room and strangle him. “Let’s do this! Onwards, Kacchan!”
Like a shitty mecha in a Saturday cartoon, Bakugou moves forward. The downside of this plan is that Kaminari and Jirou get to be upstairs playing videogames while Bakugou is left to the wolves. They can hear him through the earbuds and he can talk to them, but that’s as far as they wanted to go because neither of them wanted to watch him crash through his lovelife like a rhino in a china shop.
It’s fine though because fuck them.
Bakugou’s gonna do great. He’s good at this shit. He’s the definition of “grace under pressure.” He’s gonna—
“Fuck, what do I do?” He hisses.
“Don’t worry about it, bro," Kaminari’s voice, Bakugou decides, is less like an annoying fly and more like…he wants to say soothing, but that would deny the shrillness of Kaminari’s voice that makes Bakugou want to hit something. “Just call Midoriya over. It’ll be fine.”
Bakugou calls Midoriya over.
Midoriya comes over. He’s wary this time.
He better fucking be.
Wait—no, Bakugou was trying to score. He shouldn’t want Midoriya to be wary.
“Hey, Bakugou. Hit yourself.”
Bakugou’s hand meets his face.
“Holy shit, he actually did it. What an absolute madman-”
“Aw, hell—Jirou, really? You’re really gonna do this to him?”
“Are you okay, Kacchan?” Midoriya asks. “You haven’t been yourself for a while.”
“Tell him he’s fine as hell.” Jirou hisses excitedly, but Bakugou’s not particularly inclined to listen to her after she told him to hit himself. God, it’s like he’s given up all agency to his fucking asshole friends.
“Tell him he makes you feel—oh, hey Kirishima. What’s up?”
“You make me feel like…Kirishima?”
Midoriya blinks, “What?”
When Kaminari doesn’t say anything else, Bakugou figures this is one of those ad-lib kind of pick-up lines and because Bakugou positively thrives off of improv, he finishes the sentence with a flourishing, “Hard.”
Jirou is screaming in his ear. So is Kaminari actually.
Their screaming is interrupted by Kirishima yelling, “Tell him you love him!” over the radio.
“What the fuck? That’s nasty,” Bakugou retorts loudly, “Why would I tell Deku I love him?”
“You love me?”
“Fuck yeah I do. I wanna rail you, but also have your probably massive dick up my ass-”
Bakugou pauses and makes awkward eye-contact with Midoriya who’s looking pretty flustered.
“My dick’s bigger,” he says very carefully. “But we could also measure just to make sure. In my room. With your ass.”
“This is the worst thing I’ve ever had to witness on a Saturday morning,” Todoroki interrupts. He’s talking with his mouthful of cheap cereal so it comes out kind of muffled, but his disgust is pretty apparent by the way he opens his mouth and lets his half-chewed cereal spill out of his mouth to repeat his words with absolute clarity.
“That’s gross,” Bakugou growls and Midoriya nods in agreement.
“Not as gross as the two idiots flirting in the living room, where I do my living,” Todoroki replies. “Why don’t you get a room? Far from here. A hotel probably. A love hotel. On the other side of Japan."
“I’ll help you pay for it if you need me,” Kirishima whispers in his ear. He sounds like he’s crying. “I’m so proud of you, you know that bro? You did it. This is what I hype you up for, you know that? This is what makes life worth living. You’re a better love story than-than- I’ve never actually seen any love story but you’re one for the books, bro.”
“Thanks, Kirishima.” Bakugou says out loud.
“I’m not Kirishima,” Todoroki picks at his breakfast and proceeds to put his chewed cereal back into his mouth. “But you’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t talking to you-”
“Oh, good. I didn’t want your thanks, anyways. Now, are you going to get a room?”
“How about I get you a room? At the morgue. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” Bakugou winds up to throw some hands, but Midoriya grabs him and drags him up the stairs before he can cause undue harm and property damage.
“Kacchan, you love me?” Midoriya asks once they’re safely nestled in his bedroom, his collection of AllMights gazing upon them with judgmental plastic eyes as they hold what could be the romantic equivalent to a Catholic confession, except the priest is AllMight and the two of them are confessing their love, not their sins.
“I…tolerate you,” Bakugou says slowly before speeding up. “And your hot bod. And your cute face.”
“You fill me with both unbridled rage, but also lust. But you can replace that all with jizz, if you know what I’m saying. I’m free of STDs and I’m pretty sure your virgin dick-ass is also fine, just like you.”
“I’m kind of scared,” Midoriya says. “Are you sure you’re alright, Kacchan? Did you get hit with a quirk or something?”
Immediately, Bakugou’s eyes narrow and he jabs a finger against Midoriya’s sternum. “No, I didn’t get hit by a quirk—just what’s your obsession with that? Just ‘cause your smile gives me butterflies and your tenacity to rise to the challenge like some Ernest Hemingway bullshit makes my dick hard doesn’t mean I need a quirk to give me the self-awareness to know that every time I think of you I turn into Horny-thoughts dot com.”
“Alright, Kacchan.” Midoriya says it all with a smile and it steals Bakugou’s breath away like a vacuum.
“I wanna,” Bakugou takes a deep breath—fuck, air is hard. Romance is so hard. “I wanna stop being Horny-thoughts dot com every time I think of you. I want to walk back with you after class. I want to be one-on-one in the gym, no quirks, or maybe yes quirks. We already do that shit, but I want to do it more. Like detours to the beach after class as the sun sets like a shitty romcom anime, sparring in the sand and kissing you as the waves crash and our lips crash and maybe our dicks-”
Midoriya presses his hand against Bakugou’s chest.
“So it’s not love?” Midoriya asks, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “What you’re feeling right now. It’s not love?”
Bakugou swallows. “I don’t want it to be.”
“What do you want it to be then?”
That draws a pause and Midoriya looks at him inquisitively. “Like…body horror, Kacchan? Do… Do we have to take you to the counselor again?”
“No, shut up! The counselors here suck and you know it—I just.” Words fail him. His brain was failing him. Fuck. “Everyone feels it, you know? Your heart beats fast, you can’t breathe, you sweat, and—that’s just adrenaline. It’s just a stupid body thing that happens over the dumbest things. It’s not special. And I want it to be—special. Like, every time I see you, I want to go-”
“Horny-thoughts dot com?” Midoriya teases and it’s like the butterflies are back. They’re fluttering around his stomach, making him feel bloated. It’d be fucking gross to barf butterflies, so Bakugou swallows it all down with an ugly, audible gulp as Midoriya leans in closely. So close that Bakugou can smell his breath.
“So it’s not love,” Midoriya hadn’t eaten breakfast yet—his breath still smells like generic toothpaste. “What is it then?”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Bakugou breathes deeply again, inhaling the minty-fresh scent and trying ignore the thumping against his ribcage. “It’s you. Love. Like. That shit doesn’t matter to me. Just every time I see you and I hear you—even just think of you, I feel something.”
“And you’re sure it’s not love?”
“You’re pretty insistent about it being love,” Bakugou grumbles before conceding. “Alright. Fine. I’ll let you win this. It’s love. I love you. I’ve been hitting on you for the past week. What’re you gonna do about it, asshole?”
“You’re kidding me, right? You don’t know?”
“Didn’t think I’d get this far.” Is the response. “It kind of feels like a dream.”
Bakugou makes a show of huffing and spinning on his heel as he heads for Midoriya’s bed. “We didn’t even get to get anywhere,” he says mockingly, “‘Feels like a dream’ he says. How dare you grab my tits and feel my heartbeat and call this a fucking dream. What’s a guy to do? Confess again?”
There’s a hum and then a soft, “Maybe,” as Midoriya climbs onto the bed. The mattress creaks a bit under their combined weight and it feels weird sharing such a small space between two growing teenagers, but Bakugou looks at the other boy’s face and sees the way the sun hits his face and goes, huh.
“I’m confessing to you.”
“Catch ya later, nerd.”
“This is a confession,” Bakugou states hours later as he scatters a bunch of coins across Midoriya’s table. In an amazing fit of skill, the fallen coins form a perfectly shaped heart. “This is from me to you.”
Midoriya feels his heart skip a beat, but before he can say, “Oh, wow, thank you, Kacchan!” The blond is gathering up the coins and shoving them back in his pocket.
“He’s really bad at this, isn’t he,” Uraraka whispers as Bakugou leaves their lunch table to buy an energy drink with the money he gave and then took from Midoriya.
“He’s doing his best,” Midoriya replies and smiles fondly when he sees that Bakugou bought two energy drinks—one of which is Midoriya’s favorite flavor. Bakugou doesn’t come back immediately to give him the drink, but he doesn’t drink his, either. The two bottles are shoved into the blond’s backpack and Midoriya remembers that it’s Saturday.
Kacchan was going to treat him to drinks after the sparred, Midoriya thinks giddily.
“His best is pretty awful,” Uraraka says. “At least you’ll have his nice fat-”
“Uraraka! There are children-”
“-wallet. I was going to say wallet, Iida. Izuku’s going to have a stable income when they get out of school and maybe tax-benefits if they get married, but who knows-”
“Who are the children?” Todoroki asks. “Where are the children? No one ever sits next to us during lunch. There is so much space between us and the rest of the cafeteria. They probably can’t even hear us because there’s just, so much space-”
Midoriya closes his eyes and pats Todoroki’s shoulder awkwardly because the other boy tends to get depressed whenever he realizes how isolated he is while Uraraka and Iida bicker in the background. He wonders briefly, why he got friends like these.
At the other side of the cafeteria, Bakugou wonders just what did he do in his past life to end up with—he doesn’t want to call them friends—like these. After telling Kaminari he was fired as his romantic-consultant on the grounds that Midoriya didn’t believe Bakugou was in love with him, Mina had…
“Wait, wait, wait. Okay, so tell me again. You asked Kaminari? Mister PHD stands for Pretty Hard Dick, Love Doctor Kaminari? For love advice?” Mina’s hand slaps against the plastic table rhythmically as she cackles. It’s no wonder she and Jirou were dating, Bakugou thinks. They were made for each other. Someone out there, decided that the two nosiest people in his life deserved to get together, and got them together. Ridiculous.
“Ears helped,” he adds petulantly, red eyes darting over to where said girl was. Unfortunately, Jirou didn't give a shit about Bakugou throwing her under the bus in front of her girlfriend because she's confident in the fact that Mina believes she can do no wrong (which is true) and is also several tables away from them, chatting merrily with the other girls from 1A.
“Did she give good advice?” Sero asks.
“She told me to hit myself.”
“And you listened?” Sero asks, this time sounding like a gradeschool teacher trying not to crack up over schoolyard drama.
Bakugou crosses his arms and slouches even further into his seat. Immediately, Sero shoves his face into Kirishima’s chest and starts to guffaw.
“It’s okay,” Kirishima tells Bakugou as he pats Sero’s shaking body. “I hear love makes people stupid. Do you think you can handle the quiz on Monday or should I ask Yaomomo for help?”
“Oh no! We can’t do that,” Mina gasps. “Kyouka texted me earlier and said Momo's gonna be on the phone with her parents and can’t help us study for the quiz this week!”
Kirishima pauses. Then reaches across the table to grab Bakugou’s shoulder, “Put all your focus in your tutoring, not in your dick. We need you, bro. I need you.”
“You guys are the absolute worst. I’m not helping you with shit now. You’re all gonna be humansonas now.”
“God, please no. No more,” Kaminari whimpers. Immediately, he clasps his hands together and throws his body on the ground. “Just give me another chance, Bakugou! I won’t fail you this time, I swear!”
“I’ll help you too,” Kirishima declares alongside Mina and Sero because their grades are on the line, not because they're concerned about Bakugou's crisis or anything. Assholes. He takes back every good thing he's ever said and thought about them. “I might not know a lot about true love, but bro. I got you. I know you, bro—you and Midoriya? You’re no lovestory… You’re a Die Hard. You gotta do something cool. Dramatic. Manly .”
“What? Like die for him?”
“Kacchan, what’s this supposed to be?”
“Love,” is the answer.
Midoriya stares at the bowl of bittermelon soup in front of him with suspicion. He hates bittermelon. Bakugou knows he does, so why-
Bakugou takes the bowl of soup and proceeds to eat it in front of him.
Bakugou hates bittermelon just as much, if not more than Midoriya does.
“Are you really trying to show your love to each other by eating my soup,” Todoroki asks, interrupting whatever romantic sequence they were having as he claps his hands together and takes a deep, exasperated breath. “Do you know how long it took me to cook that? It was a lot longer than Minh-ai on AllRecipes told me it would take, I assure you.”
“Shut up Half-and-Half, I’m doing this for love!”
“If you loved him, you wouldn’t give him food he hates,” Todoroki points out bitterly. “And you wouldn't eat other people's food.”
“I’m trying to show him I’ll suffer for him so he won’t have to suffer,” Bakugou hisses.
“Oh, that’s really sweet.” Todoroki replies. “I feel like you really melted my heart with that. If it wasn’t, you know. My food. That I spent over two hours learning how to make.”
“Should’ve found a Youtube video and followed the instructions then, dumbass. Your seasoning’s so weak that a baby could beat it in a fight.”
“That doesn’t make any sense and you know they never translate their videos into Japanese—it’s always in English-”
“Good. You need the practice. Your English presentation last week was atrocious. Like, Hello I am Mister Frozen-Roaring, nice to interact with you? Stop using Google translate to help you with your problems and get fucking good, scrub.”
“Kacchan, you shouldn’t suffer for me,” Midoriya interrupts. “If anything, we should…” he eyes the bowl of bittermelon soup with trepidation before swiping the spoon from Bakugou’s grasp and taking a bite.
“Really?” Todoroki asks. “Midoriya, I thought we were friends. We could have been on first-name basis. We could have been what was it? Bakugou, what did Camie call us? Fam? Yes. We could have been fam, but it seems we are less than passing acquaintances, Midoriya-san.”
“Damn, that’s harsh,” Bakugou whispers to Midoriya. “You okay, Deku? You’re crying.”
“Yeah,” Midoriya wiped his eyes. “I just really hate bittermelon. I know I said we should suffer together, but that was for fights and stuff. This is food—we could have avoided food.”
Bakugou takes the spoon out of Midoriya’s hands and slides the bowl back in Todoroki’s direction.
“Don’t give me back my food after you infected it. Just dump it if you’re done.”
He ignores Todoroki’s indigence, too focused on Midoriya’s face. His lips pulled in a pout as he was, with no doubt, trying to rid his tastebuds of bittermelon.
“Bittermelon’s fucking gross, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Midoriya sighs. “It really is.”
“Need help fixing that?”
“How would you fix this?”
“Well,” Bakugou starts. “If I kissed your tastebuds, with my tastebuds, then they’d cancel each other out, right? Two negatives make a positive.”
The expectation of fireworks and waves crashing as their lips crashed felt like a lie as Bakugou’s lips made contact with Midoriya’s. His brain’s moving five-hundred kilometers an hour. What was he thinking? Kissing wasn’t math and tastebuds are not integers. In the background, he can hear Jirou play “Baby I’m Yours” and Kaminari say “Ladies and gentlemen, we got him” in terrible English. Kirishima is wiping his tears with Sero’s hand and Sero is being strangled by an overenthusiastic Mina. Todoroki is throwing his hands in the air and looking at the ceiling in disdain.
There’s honestly a lot going on, but as Midoriya pulls away to breathe, Bakugou finds that he’s not as far away as he feels. He’s right here, living this moment with his childhood friend-turned enemy-turned friend-turned boner creator-turned love interest-turned whatever Midoriya will let them be because Bakugou could care less what they are as long as they’re together.
“It still tastes like bittermelon,” Midoriya mumbles. His cheeks are a soft red and his tongue darts out to lick his lips and Bakugou can’t help but rest his hand against the other boy’s cheek.
“Then keep kissing me ‘til it stops, nerd.”
“Where are you right now?” Midoriya asks.
“In bed? With you?”
“No, I mean—are you still on Horny-thoughts dot com?”
Bakugou scoffs, “Nah, I told you, didn’t I? I’m done.”
“What are you thinking about then?”
“You.” Bakugou stretches his arms overhead. “Deku-thoughts dot net.”
Midoriya makes a face turns his back on the other boy, showing the back of his Sorry t-shirt. “I can't look at you anymore, Kacchan.” he says, but Bakugou's too distracted trying to read just what Deku's shirt is apologizing for. The text is a bit stretched, but Bakugou can barely make out the English and he can’t help but chuff when he sees what it says.
“What’s so funny this time?”
Sorry You’re Thinking About Me :P
“Nothing. You’re forgiven.”
Midoriya turns back around, “For what?”
“Nothing. C’mere, nerd. Your chapped lips look like they’re missing some Vitamin Me.”
The corner of Midoriya’s lip perk up, his freckles displaced and his eyes crinkle as he smiles cheekily. “You sure it’s not Vitamin D?”
“Vitamin D deficiency is a real issue and I won’t be making innuendos with it, but if that’s your way of wanting an anal injection then I won’t be opposed to giving you the shot with my dick-”
“Aw-ew! Kacchan, no! Why!?”
“'Cause I want some Vitamin You, Deku.”