Chapter Text
The first time Kaminari suggests the idea, Deku is totally against it. He can’t even imagine pulling it off for fifteen minutes, never mind an entire day.
“Oh, come on, Deku. I know you’ve got it in you.” Kaminari makes his serious face, which quickly gives way to his wrinkled, squealing-with-laughter face, and he squeezes Deku’s shoulder in an effort to calm down. It doesn’t work—apparently, his imagined version of Katsuki’s reaction is so hilarious that he bursts into another fit of hysterics. "It'll be great, I swear."
“No way , Denki. I’m not doing that. I'll dress up as a moth if you want, or, hell, even a dinosaur. But not that." He shudders. "Just thinking about it makes me feel awkward.”
“How about this? If you make it through the whole day, I’ll get you a copy of the All Might Greatest Hits album when it comes out next month. You know I’m cool with Jirou, and I can ask her to pull a few strings. Think of the ~bundle pack~, Deku.”
Kaminari has a mission. The gang—excepting Katsuki, of course—is fed up with the shitty mixed messages these two have slung at each other all these years. These two idiots are so stuck in their own heads that they can’t realize the nature of the thing between them or see how it's cramping everyone's style, and it’s obvious that nothing will happen if the squad doesn't stage an intervention. They’ve collectively decided that some magic needs to happen before graduation, and there's an entire folder of backup plans just in case this one fails. That's how fucking committed they are to these shitheads.
For whatever reason, he’s in charge of bringing the idea up with Deku. Not that Kaminari minds, really—playing Cupid for them is fun. “All Might Greatest Hits album,” he croons in a singsong voice. “All Might. Singing his heart out. Like that movie, y'know, with that Hugh Jackman hero character."
Deku’s eyes widen at the thought. According to rumors on the fan forums, the limited edition bundle pack is expected to sell out within seconds, and he’s been worrying about whether or not he’ll be able to snag a copy. This is a a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one he might never get otherwise.. No need to wait in lines or constantly refresh the pre-order page, no need to save his pocket money… It sounds pretty nice, actually… Hmm.. And all he has to do to guarantee this bundle is... tease Katsuki?
“Denki,” he says firmly. “I’ll do it.”
-----
Katsuki has kitchen duty with Yaomomo this week. Normally they start preparing dinner right after class ends, but they’ve got joint training with Class B until 6 PM today, and there won’t be any time to whip something up once evening falls. It’s the only reason Katsuki is up at this ungodly hour. Let no one say he's irresponsible. He takes his duties damn seriously, and he’s not about to let his fucking class starve to death tonight because he was too lazy to set an alarm.
He holds the knife in his hands like a Michelin-level chef, working so quickly that he runs out of potatoes to chop before she’s finished seasoning the beef. “Hey, Yaomomo.”
“Yeah?” She wipes the sweat off her forehead and looks up at him.
He’s not sure what he should say, so he just points dumbly at the vegetables.
“Oh, come get the carrots then, you big doofus." In a stern voice, she says to him, "I've washed them already, but make sure you peel them. I don't want any brown spots like last time."
"Yeah, yeah. Blah blah blah."
Dinner tonight is curry, just like it is every time they have kitchen duty together. He kneels down in front of the small garbage bin—it's empty—and starts peeling away.
She peers over at the cubed potatoes on the counter and frowns. " Bakugou. You didn't peel those?”
"Tch. No. The potato skin is the best fucking part, Momo."
"Did you at least wash them?"
The fuck? Does she think he's some kind of cave troll who eats dirt for dinner? "Yes, mom-o, I did fucking wash them, thank you very much. Do you really think so fuckin' lowly of me?"
It's no use arguing with Katsuki, not when he gets into one of these moods, and she nods and turns her attention back to the beef.
Before long, Katsuki's thoughts drift to Deku. He never intends for it to happen, of course—it's just... the past three years have basically revolved around the kid, and he's gotten used to obsessing over how he's doing, whether or not he's fighting, if he's gotten even better with his powers... Whenever his mind has bandwidth to spare, his thoughts automatically run right to him.
Recently he's been thinking back to all of their tense middle school moments. Sure, Deku was a glutton for punishment, but telling him to go kill himself was, he admits, real fucking low. Should he apologize? Would Deku even accept it? The idiot would probably scrunch up his nose and scratch the back of his head and say something like, "Oh, it's okay! It wasn't a big deal!!"
He knows Deku isn’t the scared little kid anymore from way back when, and that he doesn't need anyone watching over him. He understands this better than anyone, that there's unreal strength hidden behind those green eyes. After all, this is the future he's foreseen from the beginning, the one where Deku gets stronger than him and becomes the number one hero and proves to everyone that a quirkless upstart was born with the biggest fucking heart in the world. Now that it’s come, Katsuki no longer has to dread or fear it, but on some days, when he's alone in his room and struggling with his shaky sense of self-worth, it still leaves his chest feeling winded.
But today is a good day, and he can happily admit to himself that seeing Deku grow has been incredible, regardless of how anxiety-inducing the journey's been. (Katsuki’s kept track of every single sprain and fracture he’s gotten since then, and secretly, he thinks the number is too fucking high).
Tch. He's just the type of fool All Might would love, the one to stand up after every beatdown, even if it kills him.
But Deku's newfound strength still doesn't excuse how shitty he was for so many years. They were both raised on the idea that Quirks—especially strong ones—were what determined a person's value. The better the Quirk, the better the person, right? And according to that logic, Katsuki was supposed to be the one at the top, doing great things and crushing villains and winning medals. "You're a gold-ribbon, A+ winner, Katsuki! You're so talented!" He can still remember all of the things they said.
It did feel good being the big fish in their small fucking pond. Getting praise without doing anything made him feel like he deserved to succeed—the hero equivalent of a participation prize, maybe? For a long time, Deku was the only person who really challenged those ideas. If Quirks were what made people great, then why was Deku's heart still so much better than his? If his Quirk was what made him strong, then why'd that Quirkless freak keep extending a hand to him, acting as if he needed to be saved? If Quirks were what made people heroes, then why did the one kid who had no fucking Quirk keep trying to save him? It had to be subterfuge. There was no way the look in Deku's eyes wasn't condescension. He was just... worming his way in again and waiting for the chance to destroy his ego plus everything else he’d worked for.
The idea that Deku saw how much he needed to be saved really messed with his head. Was Deku privy to all of the insecurities and doubts he was trying so hard to hide beneath his layers of bravado and bluster? Did Deku see how rotten he was?
If so, then Katsuki needed to get rid of him.
But then came their fight, goddamnit, the one All Might had to stop. The revelations from that night left him reeling for a couple of months. Him? Deku's hero? "I looked up to you all this time," the punk had said. Explained in the middle of their brawl that the reason he kept coming back was because Katsuki was his fucking image of victory. Came right out and said that it was never condescension, that it was just awe and admiration. All this time, Deku's opinion of him was sky-fucking-high, and that made him feel even worse. He was Deku's image of victory, but Deku was all of his own negative self-thoughts come to life, sculpted in flesh and made adorable to boot.
"You were my image of victory!!". That image of Deku's earnest face screeching at him keeps looping in his head and jeez, it's making him blush.
But Deku isn't the only reason he's changed so drastically. Take Yaomomo, for example—she's been an unexpected solace during these few years. She gave him some great advice about his imposter syndrome—turns out there’s a name for his fucking complex--even though for so long, he wrote Yaomomo off as a spoiled brat who had everything handed to her. Looks, money, an OP fuckin' quirk... Special acceptance to Yuuei, the bravery to open up to a close group of friends...
He would never have thought that she was fighting her own battles with insecurity and self-doubt, but he's glad she shared all that with him.
And take his squad (god, he hates that word). They've never been afraid to talk back to him when his attitude gets out of hand. These three years he's been beat down by teachers and villains and classmates and even tiny fuckin' kids, but they've always been there to pull him back up. A long time ago, he would've dismissed them simply on account of their "boring" Quirks—but they gave him sincerity, reached out to him when he was starin' out the window and trying his hardest to ignore them. Loving him when he couldn't do it himself, promising to him that he's not a fraud.
So yeah.
Bakugou fucking Katsuki does have weaknesses. A lot of them. And he's learning to be okay with that.
And this time around, he isn't afraid of being the person that Deku sees when he looks at him. He just hopes that the hero he's becoming is worthy of all that awe.
"You're doing it again," Yaomomo says. Her clear voice pierces right through his hazy thoughts.
"Yeah."
"You're sparkling," she teases. "Look at you. I can see the corners of your mouth twitching."
Oh, yeah, he thinks. He's so lucky that he came to Yuuei, made all these lame-ass friends. "Fuck off, Momo."
"Fuck off, Momo," she parrots. He shoots her the dirtiest stink face he can muster, but all it does is make her laugh.
"Say it with me now, Bakugou!"
God, not this fucking drill again. But he mumbles it with her anyways: "My self-worth doesn't depend on how much I win..."
"Good boy," she hums.
"Shut up, bitch."
The sound of sizzling beef fills the room and he takes a second to shut his eyes, enjoy the scent. The fuzzies in his stomach are making it hard for him to keep that signature grimace on his face; bolstered by his fond memories and Yaomomo’s encouragement, Katsuki makes clean work of the carrots.
-----
Deku sneaks downstairs and pauses once he’s at the last step. It’s way too early—half-past-five in the morning—but he hasn’t been able to sleep a wink. He and Katsuki have never really been on “good” terms, and he’s not sure how this prank will go over—or if it’ll work at all. Sure, he could rely on Kaminari’s reassurances that Mr. Lord Explosion Murder will definitely notice, but how can he know for sure? It's true that the past three years have been good to Deku—he’s gained height on Katsuki, and he can say with confidence that they’re definitely equals in the ring, as Heroes. He hasn’t been "afraid" of Katsuki for a long time now.
Despite all that development, though, the idea of prolonged physical contact with that guy—outside of the realm of training sessions—spooks him. He’s fine with literally anyone else—Shinsou or Iida or even Mineta—but for some reason, he just can’t handle himself around Katsuki. Like, at all.
Okay, the thought of getting close and riling him up is exciting; he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t. It's the sort of thing he's thought about for ages, like, at night, alone in his bed, under the covers. But actually reaching for Katsuki is dangerous; there’s always the chance that he’ll get a hole blown through his brain if he pushes too far.
This prank could test all of that, but then again—what about the possibility that Katsuki won't notice at all? What if all that tension between them is purely imagined? What if the looks they share are just normal, best-buddy-slash-rival looks? What if he's reading into normal cues and twisting them with his own ridiculous hopes? What if—
Kaminari brushes past Deku, jolting him out of his thoughts. He slinks to the sofa in the common room with a gleeful smirk that Deku's sure belongs more on a villain's face, then sinks into the faux leather cushions, pressing a finger to his lips. Great. Now he has an audience for the show he's about to put on. Two, including Yaomomo...
The gigawatt smile that Kaminari flashes towards him is supposed to be encouraging, Deku thinks, but it's completely fucking useless. And wow! Now Kaminari's flashing two thumbs up at him, grinning like a fucking moron. Thanks!! So!! Much!! Denki!!!
Hhhhhh. Okay, you can do this. Deku squares his shoulders and strides into the kitchen. It's easy to locate that mess of hair—Katsuki's standing at the far counter, facing away from him. You gonna do this, Deku?, he asks himself. Now or never . He pulls his gut in, just like All Might told him so long ago when he first began training his Quirk, and marches to his side. Mr. Ground Zero's upper arms are large and toned after years of weightlifting, and the idea of touching them is equal parts tempting and terrifying.
He scooches closer, then clasps his hands behind his back and leans in. “Wow, Katsuki-san,” he beams.
"Huh? The fuck you want, you ugly green bug?"
“Uhh... tell me, Bakugou. How’d you manage to chop those… carrots... so... well?” Shit, what the fuck was that? Chopping carrots? Really, Deku? If this were a real assignment out in the field, you’d be fucking dead by now!
He snakes his right arm around Katsuki’s left, then filches a cube of carrot from the cutting mat. When he sees Katsuki’s fingers twitch, he immediately pulls his hand back out of reach, wary of the blade. “Screw you,” Katsuki mumbles. Deku inspects the carrot by holding it up to the light, his arm still firmly looped around Katsuki’s.
Kaminari’s face is visible from the sofa. He’s trying to cover it up with the book in his hands, but it’s obviously not working, and Deku’s sure that behind those pages, he’s cackling like a hyena.
"Wow," he continues, voice husky. "It's really uniform. The height and width and length all seem about the same. But I wouldn't expect anything less than perfection from Ground Zero."
Oookay. Something is definitely wrong here. Katsuki narrows his eyes and sniffs, then finishes chopping the last of the carrots. Deku's arm is a minor inconvenience, one that he can handle just fine.
Yaomomo shoots a derisive look their way, one that either says Go get it!!!! or What the fuck?, and it takes all of Katsuki’s strength not to mouth "H-E-L-P" at her. Whatever Deku is trying, he wants it to stop.
By the time he realizes that this isn’t some sort of waking nightmare, Deku’s face is even closer to his own, and it's spouting bullshit, and he's punctuating every half-sentence with random variations of his name. Katsuki. Bakugo. Lord Explosion Murder. Anything and everything—except that one.
He briefly considers the consequences of punching Deku in the face, then decides he’d rather not deal with Recovery Girl today.
“Bakugou-san,” whispers Deku under his breath. Holy shit. The fucking bastard adds a wink for emphasis. “Thanks for the carrot.” He slips it into his mouth and licks his lips, lets his fingers linger there for a few seconds. Katsuki wonders what Deku's tongue would feel like wrapped around his own fingers, and, choking on his own spit, descends into a coughing fit.
Deku's at his limit. Katsuki’s got the strangest expression on his face, and it’s making him feel weird too. He turns on his heels and hightails it back to Kaminari’s room.