Chapter Text
“Izuku?”
He blinks up at him at the mention of his name, still tousled with sleep and half awake at most. He’s been in that state for at least half an hour now, stubbornly clinging to his internal snooze button. And with good reason too. Why expose yourself to the first hours of daylight when you don’t have to? Their shift doesn’t start until noon, and it’s only because his own snooze button has been just as stubbornly refusing to cooperate that instead of joining him in his snore solo, he’s been staring out the window for longer than he cares to know.
There were no answers out there, though. Nothing to add to the ones he already has.
“I’m mad that you didn’t tell me. I understand why, but I’m still mad.”
“I know.” He says it evenly, like he’s fully awake after all. And like he really did know. Expected it, maybe. Todoroki forgets it sometimes, how well Izuku knows him too. That once he does notice, he sees more than most people. He might have known before Todoroki did, and Todoroki has known for a while, in that shapeless way before words enter the scene. “I understand why too. And I am sorry. I’ll—”
He shakes his head, smiling not so much at Izuku or himself but at some place further to the inside that he can’t quite name, floating just out of reach and waiting for him to catch up. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve apologised enough, there’s no point in going over it again and again. I don’t want to yell and argue and—”
“It’s ok if you need to!”
“I know.” It takes him a second. “I think. But I don’t think it would help.” You can’t argue away a feeling. Not when logic has already won but still failed. You can’t yell it away either, but maybe Bakugou had a point nonetheless. Maybe they’ve been moving down two opposing slides only to meet in the middle. It’s not exactly a thought that should make you smile but somehow, it does. “I don’t think that’s who I am. And I really do understand why you kept it a secret. How difficult it was for you. But it still feels like you didn’t trust me, like… like you didn’t believe in us.”
“That’s not true!”
Now, he’s not just awake but upright, fast enough to make you wonder if he used his quirk. His eyes are blazing, and they’re not letting go.
“I know it’s not true, it only feels that way. And it probably will for a while, doesn’t matter how stupid it is. I know you want to fix it,” he can’t keep himself from adding because he hates seeing him on edge like this. He has too many memories of it, too many moments that now need a new frame. “But there’s nothing you need to do. It’ll pass. I just don’t want to pretend.”
Not this time. Not anymore. Something along those lines.
There’s a pause, and it’s too long, too absolute. Izuku’s fingers are moving frantically, the way they always do when he tries to keep his lips in check, when the rapid firing of thoughts and their implications only happens on the inside. It’s a rare sight, and it feels odd to see him do it around him. Off, even when he does it for him.
“Alright,” Izuku nods at last. “I deserve that. More than that, actually. And it’s not stupid,” he adds, barely audible now.
“It’s not to punish you. I don’t want to punish you.” He doesn’t. “It’s just how it is.”
Another nod, slow at first then suddenly, decisive. He swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go make breakfast.”
“You really don’t need to do anything to—”
“It’s not about that.” His voice has joined in on the decisiveness. “It doesn’t matter that I can’t fix it, I can make you waffles. And I want to, so I will.” He gets up, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead as he shuffles off towards the kitchen. In the doorway, he hesitates. Turns around. “And if you want to argue after all, I’m here. I don’t mind if it gets loud. I just want us to be ok again.”
“We will be. We are, I just need to…feel how I feel for a while.”
Izuku nods again before he leaves, as if that’s all he can do and he knows it. It’s a familiar feeling. And it doesn’t hurt any less from the other side.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yes.” Izuku’s head pops back into the room. His smile is brighter now. Genuine, although it wavers a little around the edges when he adds, “And you know I love you too? Because I really, really do.”
“I know it too.”
It takes Izuku a while to return and when he does, his tray is so full it’s a balancing act for him not to drop half its contents. Not just a pile of waffles that almost reaches up to his face, but just about anything you could think to put on them. Their kitchen is a lot better stocked than it used to be these days – kind of like Bakugou’s still making them breakfast even when he isn’t here to make them breakfast.
He should tease him about that sometime. It’ll make him all huffy and gruffy and secretly pleased again.
It’s going to be a while until he gets the chance to though. While Bakugou has been coming over to visit more often than the other way around lately, he can hardly get out of every weekend shift (Todoroki has a feeling they owe Ashido and Kirishima a gift basket as it is), and even less so now that a couple of his ‘lazy-ass colleagues’ (his words) are out sick; so after today’s shift, Izuku will grab his bag and head out of town. And Todoroki will have the place to himself, all empty and quiet with the absence of now not just one but two people. From a whole collage of weekend sounds, both old and new, to none at all.
Maybe that's not a bad thing; maybe missing him for a bit is exactly what he needs. Maybe he's even looking forward to it. Or not. He can't quite tell. Once again, he’s not so much stuck between two things as feeling both of them at once. With varying degrees of intensity and not all the time, but still enough so to make him feel like he took a wrong turn somewhere, stepped out of himself into some in-between state where he’s looking at the world through Plexiglas. He wants to be closer but it highlights the distance. He wants quiet and time to think but he can’t stand the silence and he hates his thoughts. All they do is repeat things that he knows are not true; they’re nothing but a waste of time. But they’re persistent. A little less so than last week, though. More so than the next one, hopefully.
And now that they're having breakfast in bed, they remain mostly quiet. Izuku’s snuggled up against his side; they’re both leaving crumbs and stickiness all around them as they stuff their faces and it feels… good. Soft, even with all the jagged edges still hiding in the fractures, lingering in the air, that carpet of uncertainty that remembers every step, every imprint. There's anger still, yes, but there's lightness too, familiar jokes and laughter, smiles that poke their heads around the corner for just one, perfect second. There's the desire to hold him, to kiss it better. All those things he thought were too heavy to share. That urge is a little stronger than it was last week too. That’s something, right?
He knows it is. He should know all about this, inside and out. He’s been here before, many times but somehow, knowing never seems to have the power to skip the process.
“Day went ok?” Bakugou calls over from the couch, barely looking up from his phone to acknowledge his presence. Izuku’s nowhere to be seen. He must be taking a shower; Todoroki can hear the water running.
“You’re not in there with him?” He inclines his head in the general direction of the bathroom, finishing with a little nod. It’s just way too much fun to make him blush. And way too easy too. “And it was fine, thanks.”
Blush or not, Bakugou staunchly refuses to react, scrolling along as if he didn’t even hear him and there’s nothing at all to ignore there. The sight of him sitting in that exact spot in that exact position has become so familiar since he first grumbled back into their lives, it’s strange to think there ever was a time when he wasn’t there.
Granted, he’s actually been not there for quite a while. Almost three weeks.
As he plops down next to him, Todoroki keeps just slightly more distance than usual.
“Bakugou?”
He looks up, startled, or maybe just wary. A natural part of the ecosystem that has fully blended into its surroundings and yet, he’s somehow still looking over his shoulder at all times, still watching out for predators that aren’t there.
The way he’s staring at him doesn’t exactly make it easier, but he needs to do this. He should have already done this. Doesn’t matter how close to the spirit of it he may have gotten, he never actually said the words and for some things, Bakugou can be the densest of them all. No excuses left now. Izuku’s gonna be a while; he only just started to wash his hair. Todoroki knows the sounds of that process by heart.
“Sorry.” One deep breath, and he pushes through. “I’m sorry, for stomping on you like I did back then. I already knew you weren’t that same kid anymore, and I still made you feel like everything was your fault and you had to beg just to—”
“It’s fine,” Bakugou cuts him off. He might even mean it. Todoroki’s just not so sure that makes it better. “And it was my fault.”
He tries not to roll his eyes. He does try.
“You want me to ask Iida to prepare you another lecture? Properly detailed this time, so it finally sinks in?” There’s actual surprise on Bakugou’s face. Did he really think he wouldn’t have heard about that? ...Does that mean Izuku also forgot to tell him about the private thank-you dinner he threw for Iida, at their place? “I get it, but you’ve done enough. You’ve worked on yourself, you’ve owned up to it. You… you need to forgive yourself already. Everyone else has, and even if they hadn’t, you still could.” It takes him a moment. He’s never really put it into words before and he’d still rather not, but it might help, and if there’s any chance it does… “I haven’t forgiven Endeavour. I don’t think I ever will. No matter what Izuku thinks, I—”
“Makes sense.”
“Thanks.” It means more than he knows. More than he can know. “But my point is, even if I don’t, if there comes a day when he’s done enough, when he’s actually changed… If that day comes,”—the biggest if in the history of mankind—“he can still forgive himself. He doesn't have to spend his whole life hating himself for it and never moving on from it. There… there’s a part of me that wants him to, but that’s between me and myself. And in your case, I don't think there's anyone who even feels that way. Or wonders if you really are sorry. No one still thinks that way about you. No one. It’s time for you to finally catch up.” He tries for a grin. It doesn’t quite land but maybe it’s close enough. “Or are you telling me you’ve given up on aiming for the top for everything?”
Now that’s a silence you really could cut with a knife. Stack it up, sell it as neat little cubes of ‘well, what now?’
“Easier said than done.”
“Yeah.” No argument there. Unfortunately. “But I think it can help just to make the choice. It’s a start. And we’re here for you. All of us, not just Izuku.”
Bakugou nods, repeatedly and slowly, but it seems more like an internal conversation than anything else. Todoroki lets him be. This silence isn’t nearly as sliceable; they don’t have to fall over themselves to fill it.
Which is why it startles him a little when Bakugou speaks up after all, much sooner than he expected him to. Not that he really expected anything at all.
“I get it. About Endeavour. He’s full of words but they’re as bloated as he is. If I was in your place, I wouldn’t believe him either.”
“And in your place?”
“He pisses me off.” He aims a strongly-footed kick at their carpet. “I guess I can’t judge and blah because I don’t know all the details, but he pisses me off.”
No, not everything about him has changed. But who would want it to?
“Have you thought about finding someone to talk to yet?” his mouth decides to ask without any prior consultation.
It earns him a scoff, which is pretty deserved, all things considered. “Take your big nose out of people’s business.”
“Fair. But I can recommend it, so do with that as you will.”
“This”—Bakugou shrugs, entirely too casually as he makes a lacklustre gesture to indicate himself—“is probably not fixable anyway, so…”
“It’s not about fixing, it’s about helping you. We all need help sometimes. I did too.”
“Past tense, eh?”
“I meant when I first started going. After UA… things weren’t easy. And this”—he mimics Bakugou’s gesture, along with his tone and shrug—“should be all the proof you need that there’s no ‘fixing’ taking place.”
Why is it always so satisfying to get a chuckle out of him? It kind of always was, even back at UA. And he’s still as quick to snap out of it and be all blank-faced again as he was then too.
“Guess I’ll give it some thought then.” A pause so short it barely counts as one. “You still going?”
“It’s been a while. You know how it is with work and everything.”
“Tough as shit to find time for anything else, yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you should take your own advice then. What with everything lately.”
“Maybe.” He was thinking about it, but he didn’t feel like talking about their whole situation. And he still doesn’t. Even less so, actually. How long has it been, really…
“Still as bad?”
“It’s… getting there.”
“It wasn’t because he didn’t—”
“I know.” That part isn’t difficult because it’s true, but then the “Thanks for making it clear” is true too, and that’s a lot harder to get out.
Bakugou waves him off. “Should have been clear from the start.”
“It was, it... It’s taking a while for things to fall back into place. That’s all.”
“If you need it made clear again, just call or something,” Bakugou says, half sigh, half eye roll. “I get it though. Once your mind gets stuck on something, it doesn’t just stop because you want it to.”
“Yeah.”
More silence. Not uncomfortable, but it feels somewhat…final. Which is fine. It’s high time for him to go make himself a snack of boundless gluttony and then reclaim the couch for his post-work nap as soon as the door closes behind them. He said what he had to say, and kind of more than he planned to say, and Izuku’s bound to be done any minute now anyway. When it comes to getting Bakugou to open up about what’s blocking the gears in his mind, he’s the better candidate for sure. The only candidate.
Although Kaminari does seem to have a way of getting things out of him too and—
“It was jealousy, simple as that. Nothing to make a fuss about.”
The words come so out of nowhere that they don’t even register until after at least a second, and their meaning takes even longer to sink in. He’s left to just stare at him blankly, one cheek already in the air.
“When I first came back,” Bakugou takes pity on either him or his own patience. “You were acting the way you were because you were jealous. And you had reason to.”
There’s a brief flash of irritation, of sharpness and venom, but it’s swept away almost as quickly as it came by the wave of laughter that grips him. Sinking back down, he makes a sweeping gesture that includes them, the room and… well, everything. “You think?”
It might not be the same kind of tidal wave for Bakugou, more like a countryside brook flowing its way around a stone in its path, but those lips are wobbling too, no matter how hard he’s trying to keep them in a closed, straight line.
“And yes, I was,” Todoroki says once he’s calmed down enough, not that this shouldn’t have been obvious from the start. “But that doesn’t make it ok.”
“We all do stuff that’s not ok sometimes, I can show you the slides on that one too. He had some interesting examples on there, but you’d already know all about that, huh? I didn’t expect to just waltz back in here and be welcomed with open arms. You were pretty decent, under the circumstances. And you were worried about him, that part was true too.” He cocks an eyebrow at him, perfectly arched and perfectly calculated. "Can’t give lectures on not beating yourself up if you keep beating yourself up.”
“Then I guess we should both stop. All three of us, actually. Izuku too.”
“Nah, “Bakugou waves him off with an impressive yawn. Where did that even come from? He didn’t have to work today. “He fucked up, let him keep at it for another week.”
There’s no real reason to. No need to. There isn’t much left of that sticky feeling, and as for the anger… Maybe it hasn’t fully vanished yet, but forgiveness is more than just a concept now. It’s something within reach, something he can feel, something that paired up with understanding and started filling in the cracks.
But then again…
“… it is nice to get breakfast in bed every day.”
“Not the word I’d use for the last time I had his breakfast. Well,” he adds with a strange little half-smile, “the day itself was but that had nothing to do with that goo-fest.”
“I’ll ask him to make his waffles for all of us tomorrow – in the kitchen, I’m not sure I want to see how you react to crumbs on your sheets. Then you can see for yourself.” He tries very hard (and fails harder) not to laugh at the dubious look on Bakugou’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hair out of the way if you throw up.”
Not that it’s not already defying gravity on its own.
“I’m more worried about who’s gonna clean the bathroom after.”
“You said I should let Izuku suffer for another week so…”
“Fine. But if he poisons me with burnt lumps of flour clumps again, you’ll pay for my lunch next time.”
“You had to pay for a lot of drinks that one time, so I guess that’s only fair.” Well, in theory. He does kinda owe him for that, but it’s highly unlikely that any poisoning is going to happen in the first place, and it’s even more unlikely that Bakugou would ever not insist on cooking for them himself the next time Izuku isn’t around for lunch. “Unless you’re planning on getting yourself blackout drunk too.”
“Nah,” he harrumphs. “That just gives you a headache and makes you act like an idiot. I don’t need help with the latter, and I have Deku for the former.”
Ok, he did get him there, so he might as well see it. It’s too late to stuff that giggle back in anyway.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook though.” Bakugou looks way too pleased with himself. “I’ll eat enough to get my money’s worth.”
“Did you forget I’m dating Izuku too? My credit card’s got calluses when it comes to food. And you’re acting like—”
“Shouto!” Izuku still has that way of beaming all over when he sees you, like it’s happening for the very first time. He only just stepped into the room, fully dried and dressed and fluffy-haired. “You’re back!”
Even after all these years, it makes his face smile back all on its own. “I got off on time for once. And you”—he points at Bakugou—“are acting like it’s already a certainty he’s gonna poison us.”
“Poison? Who’s gonna poison us???” Izuku looks between them with wide eyes.
“You.”
“I won’t????”
“Of course not. We’ve just decided you’re in charge of breakfast tomorrow, and Bakugou’s being his usual optimistic self.”
“For all of us?” There’s that beaming again. “Kacchan too?”
“It’s an experience-based assumption,” Bakugou talks over him.
“New experiences, new assumptions.” Todoroki shrugs as he turns back to Izuku, who’s been standing there blinking in patient confusion. Probably also because of experience-based assumptions. “And yes, for Kacchan too. He’s been dying to finally try your waffles, he’s just too shy to ask.”
He has his doubts as to whether that last part was in any way convincing (it might have helped if he hadn’t grinned as much or if Bakugou hadn’t huffed up a storm), but Izuku nods excitedly nonetheless. “Of course! Should I make them spicy? For Kacchan?”
He can hear Bakugou mutter under his breath, just low enough that it doesn’t carry beyond their spot on the couch.
“Yes. Experiments. That’s what we need.”
“The usual ones are fine.”
“Alright – oh, but I could put some chillies in the chocolate sauce and—”
“Wear gloves while you cut them, and wash your hands before you touch anything else!”
Todoroki has to roll his eyes at him for that (it’s the law), but in all honesty, it’s kind of cute how protective he gets, and how terrible he is at hiding it.
Or maybe more like, endearing.
Izuku rolls his eyes only half a second after he did. Too bad. Could have timed that right and made it that much more annoying. “I know that, Kacchan. And it happened to you too!”
“Whatever, just get your ass in gear so we can get going.”
“I’ve been ready this entire time,” Izuku says a little too sweetly.
“Yeah, that’s why I had to sit through a whole fucking beauty routine.” Bakugou pushes himself up, turning around to point at him as they make for the door. “Your ass better be ready too.”
“Mine?”
“Of course. You’ll just go straight back to moping if you stay here.”
“Yes, I will.” He aims for faux-dignified and potentially even succeeds, going by the way Bakugou’s lip twitches. He’s either on a roll today or Bakugou is in an exceptionally good mood. “But that is none of your concern.”
“Except I’m the one who has to mop up your mope and all the crumbs and wrappers that come with it, so get going.”
“You should come!” Midoriya’s head and torso slide out from behind Bakugou at around chest-level like they’re some kind of contortionist duo. “We’re getting cake!”
“New place. You’ll like it.”
“Fine.”
There goes his snack, and his nap. Granted, Bakugou has a point, but it’s usually better not to acknowledge that too quickly. He tends to get smug otherwise.
It takes them a little under an hour to get to the café Bakugou picked and as expected, the ride was worth it. Figures that he’d be better at discovering new and interesting locations even in their city but somehow, Todoroki can’t find it in himself to be annoyed by it. After all, it’s not like Bakugou just happens to have some magical knack for it (thought that might play a part too). He’s simply willing to put in the time and research and they are… less so. For a special event or surprise date, sure, but Bakugou probably scoped out even this random café for a random afternoon meticulously. If you ask him, that’s not something to get jealous of; it’s something to simply enjoy and be quiet about.
Compared to most cafés he’s been to, this one is rather spacious. Technically, it’s one big room, but it looks like it might have once been two with most of the separating wall removed, rendering it the shape of a smaller rectangle sitting atop a big one. While the front part is covered wall to wall in nearly floor-length windows, the smaller part at the back only has one, medium-sized and made of frosted glass. Most of the soft, orange-tinted light is provided by floor lamps in seemingly random places and unlike in the front, there are no chairs or dining tables in this section either. Instead, there’s an assortment of sofas of all kinds of different types and sizes scattered around equally mismatched coffee tables. Old paintings and carpets on the walls, a chandelier made of wood that seems to be purely decorative, an ancient record player, a wooden cabinet darkened with age in the corner, potted plants dangling from the ceiling… Chaotic, in some ways, but it’s cosy too. A comfortable kind of crammed, and the ‘secluded’ aspect only adds to its charm: thanks to the remaining chunks of wall and its smaller size, it’s shielded from view from both the street and all but a handful of tables at the front.
It’s crammed in more than one sense, though. There are fewer seats than in the front to begin with, and every single one of them is occupied. Not that he can claim to be surprised that this little ‘grandma’s living room’ nook (well, not his grandma or that of anyone he knows, but someone’s grandma in some different place and time for sure) would be popular. They should probably count themselves lucky they managed to snatch the last sofa, even if it’s the smallest one by far. An old-fashioned, frilly thing like straight out of an opulent Yaoyorozu-would-know-which-period painting (Bakugou was right; she’d like it here too), it just barely offers enough space for two people. There is a third seat on the other side of the coffee table, though, in the form of a – by comparison – plain and somewhat wobbly rattan chair.
That’s where Todoroki was headed. It only made sense since he's kind of crashing their date and all (does it still count as crashing if you were explicitly invited and didn't even ask?), but Bakugou shushes him out of the way, insisting Izuku should be the one to “balance his nerd ass on it”, since he’s “still in the dog house for now”.
“I said that to him once after a fight, when we were 17,” Izuku sighs as he watches them sink into the sofa’s plush cushions. “I didn't know I’d be having it thrown back at me for the rest of my life.”
“To be fair, you should have,” Todoroki can't keep himself from pointing out. And to be fair to him, Izuku is the designated Kacchan-expert of at the very least this generation, and probably all of those to come as well.
“You’re right,” he sighs again, only to add, with a pout that knows of its own futility, “I didn't even fight with him though.”
“Pah, you still dragged me into it for months. And just because he”—Todoroki gets a half-lifted finger pointed at him—“is too nice doesn't mean you don't deserve it.”
“No, I know I do.” Izuku nods earnestly. “And Shouto does too, he's still mad at me. But the chair isn't actually bad. It means I get to look at both of you at once.”
The worst part? He isn't even being smooth. He's simply being sincere and going by the huffed “Shut up and eat your cake” to his right, Bakugou is just as defenceless against it as he is. Todoroki can't blame him. He'll never understand how anyone could not be charmed by it.
Izuku has a point that there’s something to be said for sitting face to face like this, but they’ll still have to come here again sometime, just the two of them. Because this couch just screams cuddle session. It's impossible to share it with someone without your legs touching, and its position in the corner at the very back of the room makes it one of the most secluded, if not the most secluded spot in the whole place. At a less busy time, on a weekday perhaps, things could get quite a bit cosier here.
He’d better wait a few weeks, though, so Bakugou can get a shot at it first, having discovered the place and all. And it’s fun like this too. Better than moping for sure, not that he can't multitask when it comes to that. Izuku’s gifting smiles all around as he tries his best to get bits of cake into his mouth without dropping them on their wobbly way, and Bakugou’s about as ideal as it gets when it comes to sharing a small space. He doesn’t fidget or change position too much; his leg is basically just resting there, touching but not bumping, and his shoulder only occasionally gets in the way when he reaches for his fork or cup. Hardly his fault, considering his build, and easily solvable by twisting a little to the side and into the backrest. Cradling his cup – it's tea for him and Bakugou and coffee for Izuku, who seems to be able to burn it off with no problem no matter what time of day, and now he knows why – he leans back and lets the conversation wash over him.
Izuku can recount their week just fine; there's no need for more than the occasional clarifying comment on his part, and he's tired from work anyway. It wasn't a long shift, but an especially tedious one. Not only did nothing happen, it not-happened during boring tasks and around boring people, and it didn't help that Izuku wasn't around. Things are always more boring without him. That didn't change even during those first days when it stung to look at him.
That sting, at least, is mostly gone. There's still this warped layer, like melting asphalt or a stomach that hasn't yet settled after a bug, an uneven surface that bops up to shake him every now and again, but it doesn't burn or bite like it used to. Now, when Izuku smiles at him, all he wants to do, and all he does, is smile back. Doghouse or not.
Once Izuku’s done filling Bakugou in about their week, and Bakugou’s done doing the same about his, Todoroki also gets a brief account of their day so far. Not so much brief in terms of how they're telling it, but in the sense of there simply not being much to tell. Bakugou arrived later than expected because Kirishima needed help with “something manly” (that's all he wrote in his apology text to Izuku and all Bakugou is willing to divulge as well), and “somehow the nerd still hadn't managed to take a shower even with all that extra time”.
“It wasn't that much, Kacchan.”
“We're talking hours.”
“Yes, but it didn't take as long as you said it would, so I thought I had more time.”
“How much time could you possibly need to get your ass into the shower?”
They go back and forth like that until Todoroki loses track and interest (not necessarily in that order) of who said what and when or what exactly they did in the time they must have had before the shower in question took place. He already knows it wasn't yet dealt with by the time he returned from his shift, so apparently, their day was about as eventful as his.
They want to catch a movie later, though, and Bakugou is adamant he accompany them so he “doesn't have to suffer alone for once”, a suggestion Izuku is simultaneously cheering for and muttering under his breath about. Which shouldn't be possible but he makes it work, and he makes it cute.
“You will team up and make fun of it the entire time, just like when we watch a movie at home, won't you?”
“I don't know about him but I have manners and keep my mouth shut during public screenings. And,” Bakugou throws in a huff for good measure, “we hardly ever do that.”
“That's because 90% of what he picks is All Might-themed, and you're a good boy who would never commit blasphemy.” Neither would he, of course, except for some very strongly worded strong words a certain mentor will be hearing about his mentoring techniques the next time he sees him. “And chances are I'll just fall asleep as soon as the lights go out anyway.”
And he'll definitely head home afterwards. He knows about Izuku’s special and secret dinner plans (which he has an inkling might have had something to do with the shower delay as well), and he's not going to ruin them just because they're being nice. Plus, he has special plans for his duvet.
“I'll wake you if you start snoring,” Izuku promises with an eager nod and an only slightly teasing grin.
“See, we have manners too.”
Bakugou makes a show of rolling his eyes, once more half-lifting that lazy finger to point at him.
“Don’t drool on my shoulder again.”
“No promises.”