Work Text:
BAKUSQUAD 4E
YOU
where the fuck are you fucks???????
Katsuki frowns at his unanswered, unread text and then pockets his phone angrily.
Foreign hip-hop music blares in the bar, making his temples throb with every thumping bass. He pushes past a couple making out, feeling like exploding the entire place to bits when he just ends up bumping into another one.
Still no sign of any of the extras anywhere.
Impatient, he glances down at his smart watch. 1:41 AM, it reads in cheerful, bright characters. It only adds to his blooming headache.
Katsuki is pretty fucking sure he’s indulged his shitty friends enough as it is, being out this late on a work night, especially given his infamous rigorous sleeping schedule. He also thinks celebrating Tape Arms closing a case could’ve waited for the weekend, but he guesses it’s a big deal for losers who aren’t as amazing and talented as Katsuki is – solving cases and catching villains is sort of a daily routine for him, after all.
(Deep down, he’s proud. Tape Arms has worked on it for months. But still, his bed is calling his name. The boyfriend currently occupying it is calling it even louder).
Katsuki just wants to find one of the extras before he dips and crawls home, straight into Shouto’s arms. He’s probably been sleeping for hours by now, warm and cozy. Katsuki’s annoyed – maybe he’ll push him out of bed when he gets back, out of spite. The motherfucker has been pardoned for skipping drinks because he has the earliest shift in the morning (and because he’s Shouto, and he gets away with virtually anything).
He's about to give up and leave without saying goodbye when he finally spots Racoon Eyes by the counter.
“Oi, Pinky!” he yells, because saying ‘Racoon Eyes’ usually gets him elbowed in the solar plexus.
“Bakugou!” she says cheerfully when Katsuki reaches her, straightening up her slouch. “You look handsome. And angry, as per usual. But mostly handsome.”
“Thanks?” Katsuki says, eyeing her suspiciously. Is she drunk or high? Both? Her complexion makes it hard to tell, especially in the dim light of the bar, but he thinks she looks flushed. “You okay?”
“Mhm!” she nods, a touch too enthusiastic. “I got hit by a truth quirk of sorts,” she blurts out before Katsuki can press further. “Shit!” she groans, like she thought she could avoid giving it away.
“What happened? A villain?”
She sighs and gives Katsuki a look, like she’d rather not tell him but alas – truth quirk.
“I was about to leave with a girl when she hit me with her quirk. She said it happens sometimes when she gets, uh, worked up. Should wear off after a couple of hours, she says.”
Katsuki scoffs – he has little to no tolerance for people who can’t navigate their own quirks. “So where is she now?”
“She left.”
“Hah? Bitch. Why?”
“Bakugou, why would you—Ugh! She—She asked me if I wanted to, uh, go home with her and I said—No.” Ashido runs a hand through her short hair. She looks frustrated that she’s unwillingly showcasing her vulnerability in a shitty bar with a sticky floor on a Tuesday night, and Katsuki can empathize with that, wants to offer her a ride home so she can sleep it off. Except it seems like now she can’t stop talking. “I said no! Like a fool! She was hot, Bakugou, like, insanely so. Okay, maybe not Todoroki-level hot because we all suspect he’s been made in a lab but, you know, real people hot—Fuck I’m starting to sound like Deku—anyway I said no, b-because I’m waiting for Ochako to texts me back. I’m so pathetic.”
“Pinky—”
“I don’t want to keep talking,” she bangs a fist on the counter, almost startling Katsuki. “Not to you, shit, with your perfect relationship and your perfect boyfriend and your—your complete lack of emotional intelligence.”
“By all means, tell me how you really feel, Pinky!” Katsuki snaps, sarcastic. “Is this a truth quirk or a ‘no fucking filter’ one?”
“I don’t know! I’m sorry!”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but lets it go because well, at least she means the apology. He’s also incredibly tired.
“Come on, let’s go. I’ll take you home, you idiot.”
“Thank you,” she says, relief palpable in her voice.
Katsuki doesn’t speak while he drives, wary of triggering another rant out of her. He feels like he’s just one question away from having her curse his entire bloodline. On her part, Ashido keeps to herself, looking at the city landscape out of the window. Her hands fiddle nervously in her lap.
He doesn’t exactly know what the deal is between her, Uraraka and Asui, and he doesn’t particularly want to investigate the sick incestuous inclination of former Class 1-A, what with everybody fucking, well, everybody. Kaminari and Kirishima probably have the sleepover talk covered anyway. Hell, they probably have had real sleepovers, maybe even braided each other’s hair and shit.
It feels wrong to let her go like this, though, so when he parks in front of Ashido’s building, he clears his throat, trying to think of something nice to say.
Ashido looks at him, one hand on the handle of the car door. “Thank y—”
“You’re not pathetic,” Katsuki says, a touch too loud, looking straight ahead.
Silence.
She’s smiling when Katsuki glances at her, thankfully. “Thank you,” she says, obviously genuine. “And I’m sorry for what I said. You’ve gotten better with the feelings stuff, you know.”
Katsuki snorts and relaxes a little. “Hell yeah. Being Halfie’s boyfriend forces that shit on you, so.”
“You’re good for each other. I wish—I wish I found something like that in high school.”
“We’ve gotten lucky,” Katsuki says, shrugging. “I mean, it was hard fucking work, don’t get me wrong. But we’ve been lucky to, uh. Be each other’s first, I guess.”
“Be each other’s firsts, huh?” Ashido laughs and Katsuki flips her off, feeling his face heat up lightly.
“Fuck you, I meant first relationship,” Katsuki says. “But so fucking what?” He doesn’t think it’s a big secret that neither him nor Shouto had been with anybody else before (not like their stellar personalities helped). They were 17 when they got together, for fuck’s sake.
“Didn’t mean anything by it, silly,” Ashido says lightly, waving him off. Then, slowly, her smile fades and a frown takes its place instead, like something is just dawning on her. “No, nothing. Nothing. Fuck!”
“The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t wanna say!”
Katsuki frowns right back at Ashido, who’s pursing her lips ridiculously. Physically trying not to speak, Katsuki realizes. He wouldn’t normally pry, but if it’s something that involves him or Shouto, it’s only natural for him to be curious.
“Just tell me,” Katsuki demands, undoing his seatbelt and turning to face Ashido better. He squints at her with suspicion. “What aren’t you saying, Pinky? Why won’t you speak?”
“You’re not gonna like it, Blasty.”
“I don’t fucking care! Say it!”
“Baku—”
“C’mon!”
“You’re not Todoroki’s first—Fuck! Fuck! You’re really, really making me hate you right now,” Ashido whines and covers her mouth.
Katsuki clenches his fists real tight, and it’s only thanks to the years he’s spent working on himself and going to fucking therapy that he doesn’t blow up the car they’re in. Also, it’s new and Shouto quite likes it.
Shouto, who was apparently hiding something from him. Not only that, but Racoon Eyes was as well.
“Elaborate.”
Ashido looks pissed and doesn’t do what asked. The quirk must be getting weaker if she can fight it off this long. Katsuki needs to ask a lot of questions, and quickly.
“Don’t you dare dissolve the car with your stupid acid,” Katsuki warns when he sees her stall like she does on the battlefield and dangerous ideas start forming in her head. He frowns. “Huh. You say you’re my friend, but you won’t tell me? What’s up with that, Pinky?” Ashido gives him an unimpressed look for his poor attempt at manipulation. Why is she so unwilling to speak? “C’mon, who the fuck is it? I don’t get why… Wait. Is it—Is it fucking Deku?!”
Katsuki knows he’s working himself up. Logically speaking, nothing earth-shattering has happened. So Shouto had had someone (most probably) before Katsuki and him had gotten together… Whatever! Big fucking deal! Except, well – he can’t think straight, because what if it is Deku?
Katsuki has fleeting, crazed thoughts of maybe Shouto’s cheating on me and maybe Deku is with him right now, which is entirely impossible because Deku is in the US of fucking A, and Katsuki really needs to get a grip, pronto.
“It’s not—It’s not Midoriya!” Ashido rolls her black eyes. Kastuki glares at her. “God, I thought you were done being up his ass, don’t you have Todoroki for that? Do you really think he would ever—Never mind, of course you’d think so, you’re insane.”
Katsuki’s been called worse. Yes, he’s insane(-ly jealous). They’re working on that, somewhat. “So who fucking was it, then?” he insists, leaning closer to her.
“Bakugou,” Ashido groans. “Don’t do this. It was years ago. And, and it was a one-time thing. Ask Todoroki, please. I didn’t even mean to tell you, it wasn’t my place!”
“Well, he hasn’t deigned to tell me in five motherfucking years, so, Pinky. Fucking. Speak.”
“Bakugou, come on—”
“I can assume is that it’s someone from Yuuei, because Shouto hardly spoke to anyone else. Given your reluctance to just spit it out I can safely say it’s someone close to us. That’s what’s driving me crazy. It means that not only did Shouto not tell me, but also one of you extras. Now, if it’s not Deku, and before I go knocking on doors at 2 AM, on a Tuesday,” Katsuki takes a deep breath, menacingly leans closer to a shrinking Ashido. “Tell me Mina, who did Shouto sleep with before me?”
Ashido gasps, eyes going wide at the use of her first name. It’s a low blow, but Katsuki will feel ashamed for it another time.
“It was— fuck, fuck, no, I don’t want to—Kaminari.”
“Hah?!”
“Shit!”
Ashido fumbles behind her and the car door clicks open. She stumbles out of the vehicle and braces for an explosion—that doesn’t come.
Katsuki is frozen in his seat. Ashido wills herself to absolutely not compare it to the way Kaminari gets dumbstruck after using too much of his power.
“Blasty?” Ashido asks timidly, worried.
“You’re lying.”
“Uh, I—I physically can’t right now.”
“Okay,” Katsuki says and starts the car. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Todoroki?!”
“Huh? Fuck no. Unfortunately, I fucking love the idiot. Dunce Face however…” Katsuki grunts, fastening his seatbelt. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Oh, no! No, no, no,” Ashido murmurs, climbing back inside and engaging in a ridiculous hand-batting fight to snatch the car key from the ignition. She was not going to be the cause of Kaminari’s brutal murder. The snitch label just doesn’t become her.
After a particularly hard shove at Katsuki’s face, victorious, she holds the key out of his reach.
“Give it back, Pinky,” Katsuki says with barely contained rage, face still smushed under Ashido’s palm. “I have something gruesome in mind.”
“Yeah, you gotta work on your pitch, man,” Ashido says deadpan, moves back when Katsuki slaps her away. “Also, you need to get home. Sleep on it, then talk to Todoroki.”
Katsuki grimaces. The last thing he wanted right now was having a fucking feelings talk. “Murder sounds far better.”
“Murder is actually a hassle. You’ll get caught and end up in prison.”
“As if,” Katsuki says, cocky as ever.
“Well, Todoroki will go after you. Midoriya too. Kirishima. It’s gonna be a joint effort.”
“Whatever, I’ll break out then. Revive Dunce Face, then kill him again.”
“Bakugou,” Ashido whines, deflating. “Just go home.”
“Sure, I’ll fucking go home,” Katsuki concedes. “If you agree to tell me everything you know about this.”
“Wh—”
“I have to know if he’s lying when I ask him about it. And you can’t lie right now. It’s a no-brainer, Pinky.”
“Do you tell your therapist about your trust issues?”
Katsuki waves her off. “She says I have paranoid thoughts, but I don’t believe her.”
“O-of course.”
“Wake up, asshat. Oi, wake the fuck up!”
Katsuki nudges his boyfriend unceremoniously, then shakes him by the shoulder when that proves to be unsuccessful. Normally he would’ve found the way he stirs in his sleep, all cat-like, endearing, but not tonight.
“Halfie, you fucker,” Katsuki huffs, sparks him lightly on the bare foot that slipped out of the covers.
“Wh—?! Katsuki?” Shouto startles awake, looks at him with bleary, barely focused eyes. “What time is it?”
“2:44 AM, sweetheart,” Katsuki says in a faux nice voice. He flicks the nightstand lamp on so he can look at Shouto properly. Shouto squints at him. “Rise and shine.”
“Two—What? I have to wake up in two hours, Katsuki,” Shouto mutters, voice deep and tinged with sleep. “Come here, cuddle me,” he adds, about to bury his face in the pillow again.
“You’re awake now,” Katsuki says, tugs the duvet off him like the petty bitch he is. Shouto hardly reacts, thermoregulation quirk in action.
“Are you drunk?” he asks instead, rubbing his eye tiredly as he assesses Katsuki’s general well-being. He looks terribly cute in his stupid cat-paw print pajama pants. Katsuki takes the offensive before he can be coaxed into a sleepy cuddle session.
“You fucked Kaminari Denki.”
There, short and to the point.
“I’ve been here all night,” Shouto says with the utmost honesty.
“No—You absolute idiot—You have fucked him. In the past,” Katsuki clarifies, in the mood to do something irrational. Flip the bed, maybe. Kiss Shouto silly, probably.
“Have not,” Shouto huffs, annoyed at the accusation. “I don’t know what’s happening here. Did you have another weird dream again? For the last time, I don’t—I don’t control what your subconscious makes up, Katsuki. Go back to sleep.”
“Dumbass, I’ll refresh your memory. Yuuei days. You’ve hooked up, isn’t that right?”
“Oh... that.”
“Yeah, that, you—you absolute—”
“How do you know about that?”
Katsuki quirks an eyebrow up. “What, no denying it?”
Shouto slowly sits up, rubs his idiotic, pretty face with his hands to fend off sleep. “This can’t wait till tomorrow?”
“No.”
“You’re upset.”
“Take a wild fucking guess, half-and-half.”
“It was—before us. Obviously,” Shouto says, looking into Katsuki’s eyes with a serious expression.
“I know that. It’s not—it’s not about that,” Katsuki mumbles, feelings his ears go hot. He hates that Shouto knows the extent of his insecurity. Not that the constant jealousy and the waking up accusing Shouto of seeing someone else in his dreams do him any favors. Underneath it all he knows Shouto loves him. It’s just hard to understand why.
Shouto nods. “Okay, good! Then, um, what is this about?”
“Where to start… Maybe it’s about you fucking keeping it from me!”
“I see,” Shouto hums, thoughtfully. His hair is sticking in a funny way, but Katsuki refuses to fix it yet. He must stand his ground. “Do you want to sit down?”
“No.” Katsuki quite likes the height advantage, actually.
“Okay.”
“Well?!”
“I don’t—I don’t know what to say,” Shouto says, looking a little out of it still. “I just woke up.”
“You’re so infuriating. What if you start by apologizing?”
“I’m sorry, Katsuki. I really am,” Shouto says right away, probably thankful for the prompt. He still sounds sincere, which is a relief. “I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed.”
Katsuki nods and considers this. Understandable: he would be too if he had hooked up with Dunce Face.
“I—I didn’t think it mattered, it was once. Did Kaminari tell you about it?”
“Am I covered in blood and guts?”
Shouto frowns, just slightly. “No.”
“Then no. I didn’t see him after finding out about it.”
“I… wasn’t aware anybody else knew.”
Katsuki sighs, decides to give Shouto some context. “He spilled to Racoon Eyes. She told me earlier tonight. Got hit by a truth quirk and this came up, somehow. I know what she knows, which isn’t a lot.”
“If you know—”
“I want your version of it.”
Shouto’s cheeks redden a little and he breaks eye contact with Katsuki. “It was so… juvenile,” he says. “I’m—I don’t like thinking about it.”
Katsuki groans. He’s not in the habit of making Shouto uncomfortable but— “Ashido doesn’t know details and if you don’t tell me—I won’t stop thinking about it, it’s gonna drive me insane. Gonna keep asking myself shit like, did you fuck in your room? Where we did? Or in his? Or—”
“Katsuki—God, we didn’t fuck,” Shouto interrupts, reaches out to tug at Katsuki’s sleeve. “We—Okay, sit down. I’m telling you, alright?”
Katsuki complies slowly, gears working in his head—hooking up has a broad meaning, admittedly. You didn’t— he mouths while Shouto straightens up next to him, stiff in the same way he gets with journalists when he goes to report a villain attack. He even goes as far as clearing his throat, like Katsuki isn’t right beside him.
“The night it happened we snuck off school grounds,” Shouto starts, all business-like. Katsuki’s eyebrows go up in surprise. Ashido wasn’t aware of that part, and weirdly enough no one else caught wind of it either. “Kaminari said he knew a konbini that sold alcohol without checking for IDs. It was stupid, but I was feeling really down because—well. Okay, because of you. I thought—it’s silly to say now—but I thought you might have had, uh, sexual relations with Ashido. It’s kind of ironic that she’s the one that told you, maybe.”
“Racoon Eyes?!” Katsuki cries, skeptical, because yeah, she might be very flirty at times but it’s not like Katsuki ever paid her any mind. “Wait, you were, what… jealous?”
“I didn’t know you weren’t into girls,” Shouto defends himself with a slight pout. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Katsuki. You’re the most—ow! Okay, so, we got a little drunk. It was the first time for me, and Kaminari is a lightweight, so it wasn’t ideal.”
Katsuki nods along, running his thumb over where he had just pinched Shouto. A recipe for disaster, is what that was. He knows from experience now that Shouto gets impossibly clingy when tipsy and Kaminari—well, his horniness comes second only to the purple smurf.
Shouto continues, seemingly pleased that Katsuki was touching him. He exploits it to take the blonde’s hand in his. “We managed to sneak back into Yuuei without a hitch—I remember feeling really proud of that. I wanted to head straight to bed because my head was spinning, but Kaminari asked to hang outside the dorm a little more to sober up—anyway we ended up kissing—”
“Woah—”
“I really don’t remember how that happened, so don’t ask,” Shouto says, then he adds, thoughtful: “I wonder… Kaminari’s blond and loud, maybe my intoxicated brain thought it was you—”
“Oh, fuck all the way off.”
“No, no, you have to remember ‘tsuki, that I’ve loved you longer than you—”
“You said it wasn’t a competition!”
“It’s not,” Shouto agrees, placating, squeezing Katsuki’s hand. “But you still have to keep it in mind.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but squeezes Shouto’s hand back, like the lovesick fool he is. “Fucking fine, so is that all? You morons made out?”
“Well, no. See, this is the part where you keep it in mind,” Shouto clarifies. “After—well—There is no good way of saying this, but we had, uh. Oral sex. I mean I did the—”
“You sucked Kaminari off?” Katsuki’s voice goes up an octave and he suddenly feels faint. He also feels slightly homicidal again – he had cooked meals for Dunce Face, saved his ass more times than he can count, and the dumbass never thought of coming clean?
“Only a little—”
“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense—”
“It does, because he—”
“No, stop speaking, I shouldn’t have fucking asked,” Katsuki groans, lets himself fall backwards on the bed and stares at the ceiling. Then he groans again and covers his face with his hands. Maybe he’ll just explode his own face off. “I’ll never get rid of the goddamn visual.”
“Katsuki,” Shouto sighs, looking down at him. He takes advantage of Katsuki wallowing in despair to straddle his legs, looming over him. “I think you’re making this a bigger deal than what it was. I do apologize for not telling you, but it’s not like I was aware of your feelings. And I don’t—I don’t necessarily regret it. It made me understand some things about myself.”
“You said you were embarrassed,” Katsuki accuses, cracking his fingers apart to glare at Shouto, who obviously looks like some sort of angel above him. Stupid, pretty man, with stupid, pretty, mismatched eyes. So fucking unfair.
Shouto snorts and pries Katsuki’s hands from his face. He twines their fingers together, the sap. “Okay, I’ll say this once and never again. Us loitering around the dorm set off some motion sensors we weren’t aware of. Probably planted there after the attacks at school. Anyway, Aizawa walked in on us. Or, I guess, walked out on us? Regardless, I was—I was still on my knees, Katsuki. It was the most mortified I ever felt in my life,” Shouto’s eyes widen as he speaks, like he’s reliving the memory. Katsuki cringes in sympathy. “It was worse than that time Midoriya walked in on us, or when Iida did—Actually why did that happen so much?”
“Coincidence, Halfie. Don’t ask stupid questions, go on,” Katsuki immediately waves him off, before Shouto’s three braincells figure out a kink Katsuki isn’t yet willing to acknowledge.
“Well, Aizawa would’ve notified our parents, had Kaminari not cried his eyes out,” Shouto sighs, a full body shiver going through him. Katsuki places his hands on Shouto’s hips, distractedly. “My father would’ve—I can’t even think about that. Aizawa did give us a book on safe sex, though. Almost equally mortifying.”
Katsuki bites back a snicker and rubs comforting circles on Shouto’s hips, just under his sleep shirt, as he mulls over what Shouto told him. Maybe he did overreact.
“Feel better now?” Shouto asks softly, without malice or sarcasm, and Katsuki makes a show of sighing. He pulls himself up in a fluid motion – he has the strongest core and Deku can cry about it – and pulls Shouto closer to press a soft kiss on his lips.
“I guess.” Having a lapful of Shouto helps anyway.
Shouto gives him a little smile and kisses him a couple of times more, loud and wet, just to be annoying. “It didn’t mean anything, and nothing happened after that. Never kept anything else from you. I promise, okay?”
“Okay,” Katsuki says. He probably shouldn’t have woken Shouto up for this. “It’s just—Sure, you didn’t know I liked you, but Sparky knew,” Katsuki huffs, dodging another sloppy kiss from Shouto. “They all knew I was into you.”
Shouto hums, stopping his onslaught of kisses. “He did beg me to never tell anybody.”
“And you didn’t ask yourself why?” Katsuki scoffs. “That dumbass would’ve told the entire school you got your mouth on him, and happily, Aizawa be damned.”
“I thought I knew the reason,” Shouto says simply, shrugs.
“Yeah? Care to share?”
“Well, it’s not nice to speak ill of the dead.”
“He isn’t dead,” Katsuki grumbles.
“So you’re not going to kill him?”
“Jury’s still out. Don’t change the subject, Halfie.”
Shouto rolls his eyes. “He—” he gestures vaguely. “He finished quite early. I figured he didn’t want anybody to know.”
Katsuki blinks at him, then bursts out in a loud cackle when it clicks. Shouto watches him, doesn’t even reprimand him for being mean, because it’s not often that he sees him laugh so freely. Figures it’d be at the expense of someone else. He does however get off Katsuki’s lap when the laughing doesn’t appear to be dying down anytime soon.
“Are you done? I’d like to sleep.”
“I’m gonna bully the shit out of him,” Katsuki grins, grabs Shouto for a smiley kiss before he manages to go too far.
“That’s so rich coming from you, Katsuki, need I remind you the time when—”
“Whose side are you on, huh?” Katsuki whispers, without any real heat, squeezing Shouto in a crushing hug. “You fucker.”
“I don’t care, ugh. Just let me sleep, I have barely an hour and a half because you’re a jealous maniac,” Shouto says in Katsuki’s neck, not really doing much to detangle himself from the solid embrace.
“I’m gonna make it up to you,” Katsuki promises, pulling them both down in a lying position.
“Wake me up with a blowjob?”
“You had that one ready to go, Halfie?” Katsuki huffs, amused, reaching for the duvet behind Shouto. He switches the lamp off blindly, almost knocking it down in the process.
Shouto whines at all the jostling. “It’s either that or a verbal apology,” he threatens.
Katsuki pauses. “Alright, fuck, deal.”
“Romance isn’t dead, huh?” Shouto sighs, wraps his long limbs around Katsuki to keep him close.
“Gonna fucking light a candle for you, how’s that sound, princess?”
Shouto yawns. “Perfect,” he hums. Then, he kisses Katsuki in the dark, just a quick peck. “I love you, you know?”
“I know,” Katsuki whispers. “I love you, too.”
He swallows his stupid pride.
“And I’m sorry. About everything.”
“I know,” Shouto replies, sounding vaguely amused. “You still owe me that blowjob, though.”
Katsuki scoffs, looks down at his watch. 3:26 AM. He owes him a lot more than that.