Chapter Text
Compress walks in with shopping bags weighing down his arms, more than Kastuki would have thought possible considering his slimmer physique. He still manages to push the metal door open nimbly with the sole of a shoe, and slide through the small opening.
Katsuki, who is rearranging gin bottles according to Kurogiri’s guidance, catches a glimpse of the outdoors - a sliver of light peeking through and, in the reflection cast upon the jukebox beside the door, Katsuki sees clouds.
It’s daytime, he realizes. This whole time, he has been operating based off the League’s schedule but technically he hasn’t seen a clock nor the sun since he got here.
That confirms it, then. The metal door leads to escape.
He begins to plan. Sometime really late at night, when even the late-night stragglers who are typically up far past the rest have gone to their rooms, is his best bet. He already knows their schedules fairly well, had been operating around them for since a little bit ago with his cleaning.
It would be easy to make a break for it when they were unprepared, and he has a chance if he uses his explosions to propel himself faster than they would be able to run.
However, Magne’s quirk. If the door was facing the North, she would be able to pull Katsuki back South the moment he left. It was a gamble, a one in four chance. Although, even if they weren’t facing South, she could still send him flying sideways, or even forward into something, depending on the surroundings.
Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek more strongly than necessary, thinking. After the time they’ve spent talking, after Katsuki’s got to know her… would she do that to him?
What’s worse yet, he feels the smallest, most infinitesimal bit of apprehension bubbling up, regardless of how much he tries to suppress it.
Does he want to leave without her? Toga, Twice, and even Compress too, for that matter?
It’s ridiculous, insane, even! He was kidnapped, for god’s sake, and has been holed up in this bar for what must be weeks by this point. Despite this, it’s hard to rationalize or amass any fear towards Magne, Twice, and Compress nowadays. He’s even warming up to Toga, as hard as he tries to distance himself from all of them.
The League is evil, he tries to tell himself, They’ve killed people! Hurt his teachers, his friends!
They are all cogs in a machine. The League doesn’t define them.
Katsuki has killed too.
Killed their people, just as they have killed heroes.
He had aimed explosions at more than a few of the League’s recruits at USJ. It was frantic, an effort to survive and work with Kirishima in the bloody and hostile battlefield after being transported away from safety so abruptly. It had felt never-ending at the time, a swarm of villains so dense that it was incapacitate, rinse, repeat. He never stopped to see the damage, see what he was doing. Pausing meant drowning in the swarm.
“-Bakugou...” Compress’s voice fades in, “Bakugou!”
He’s waving a hand up and down across Katsuki’s vision, a few meters in front of him.
“What?” he snaps at Compress.
“I’ve brought back your paints. Sorry I couldn’t get them last time, I didn’t realize they wouldn’t have them at the store I typically go to,” Compress gestures to the bags, which had been deposited onto the counter at some point while Katsuki had been staring at the door. Katsuki tries not to let his surprise show that Compress had gone to the trouble. “I hope those work alright with you, I wasn’t entirely sure which ones to get but upon speaking to one of the employees they informed me these might be a good pick. Oh, and they said you would probably need heavier paper with it? There’s also a sketchbook in there.”
Recovering a little, Katsuki grabs the bag that Compress had directed him to. “Wow, you two speak alike. ‘Upon’? Who even says that anymore?”
Kurogiri huffs out a laugh, seemingly without meaning to, and after a moment Compress does too.
“Oh, no!” Compress says through the laughter, “Now there’s two of them!”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow, and by that point Kurogiri has stopped his attempt to hide his own amusement, “Spinner always teases us for our manner of speech. Says it’s overly formal.”
“I can see why, when you use words like ‘manner’ and structure your sentences like that,” Katsuki retorts.
“Not my fault I have extensive vocabulary. It simply signifies that Kurogiri and I are able to articulate our thoughts with greater efficiency.”
“Okay, now you’re doing it on purpose,” Katsuki accuses, pointing a finger at Compress, “And it totally just sounds pretentious!”
It’s not even that funny, but something about their joy is contagious, and Katsuki finds himself smiling along with them.
After calming down, Compress takes note of the disarray that is the bar.
“Twice happened again?” He asks Kurogiri, and Kurogiri lifts his arm toward the shelf that he and Katsuki have just barely begun to place the items back on in a way that must confirm it to Compress. “Hm. Well, I guess I’ll have company while I put away the groceries, then.”
Compress sets to work placing food in the cabinets and fridge.
“I’m just gonna go put this in my room,” Katsuki says, and sets down the hallway. Halfway there, he realizes that he isn’t sure when he had begun to think of it as ‘his’ so naturally. He’s becoming complacent.
He catches sight of the paint box as he sets down the bag again.
Blinks.
Pulls the paints out.
They’re good quality. Fantastic quality. He knows the brand, has been imaging trying it out for a long time but has never been able to justify spending such a sum of money on a hobby.
He turns the box over in his hands slowly, running a thumb over the embossed letters and printed leafage patterns that line the sides, inhaling shakily.
He asked his dad for these once, when he was younger and didn’t fully appreciate the value of money in the world. Masaru had been quick to deny it, and his mom had scolded him harshly for asking him and not her.
As gently as he was capable, he pulled open the desk drawer and placed them and the sketchbook inside.
Katsuki returns to the main room as though he didn’t feel that his world had been tipped upside down.
He picks up a rag and uses it to clear the dust off one of the shelves. Kurogiri and Compress have lapsed into conversation about buying a dartboard for the room, and Katsuki is content to listen to them. They draw him in for opinions on which wall to hang it on, and he learns that Spinner, apparently, has the best aim out of them. Katsuki would have guessed it would be Compress.
Of course, this leads to Katsuki wondering whether he would be able to beat Spinner, with all the high praise that Kurogiri was singing.
In the times when Kurogiri and Compress entertain less interesting topics, Katsuki zones out and imagines the paints, waiting in his room.
With the three of them working (Compress had moved on to helping after he’d finished unpacking) the bar was perfect in no time.
Compress leans over the counter, a grin on his face. “Fantastic! Nice and prepared for Twice again.”
Kurogiri makes a noise close to a groan, or at least Katsuki interprets it to be similar considering the context. It’s hard to get a read on Kurogiri considering the lack of facial expressions, but Katsuki’s managing.
“He’s going to start moving things again in a few hours, just watch. Anyways, thank you for helping,” Kurogiri says to Katsuki, “I appreciate it. And you cleaning the rest of the place, for that matter. I’d like you to know that you don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. Just in case nobody else has made it clear.”
“I don't do anything I don't want to,” Katsuki tells him, “I like things neat. I do the same at my house.”
“Regardless, thank you,” Compress adds.
“No, thank you,” Katsuki says, the words slipping out before he can stop them, completely serious. He surprises himself with it. It’s out of character for him, but he finds that he means them, “For the paints, I mean.”
It’s off topic, and completely disrupts the direction the conversation was going, but he can’t get it off his mind. Although he didn’t realize it before now, he’d been waiting to say it.
“Of course,” Compress tells him simply, “You had to have been getting bored around here. Not much to do after all.”
“A little,” Katsuki admits, tapping his hand against the counter, “But you lot are… interesting, so I’m not entirely bored out of my mind.”
“Good to hear,” Kurogiri laughs again.
With sudden conviction, Katsuki decides that really, he’s not bored at all. They're nice. He likes to spend time around all of the League members he’s met so far. His decision solidifies in his head.
His fate is tied.
He isn’t going to escape.
He’s going to save them.
At that exact moment, there is a knock at the door, two short noises.
“Hello, this is Pizza-La, Camino store,” a recognizable voice calls out from behind the wall.
No. Not yet.
“SMASH!” All Might yells as the wall shatters as though it were glass.