A/N: Thanks from the bottom of my heart to DramaDragon2 and drummergirl101 for the lovely reviews :3 and big shout-out to all the silent readers who are enjoying this at least a bit.
Day 2 of summer camp goes more like Bakugou had expected. The training to improve on his Quirk leaves him red-palmed and frustrated beyond belief, but that, too, is part of becoming number one. Or so he keeps telling himself, as he sneaks hateful looks to where Deku is doing squats, huffing in that overzealous way of his that sets off all kinds of alarms in Bakugou's head. That shitty nerd had better stop trying so hard. Not very wise to trigger Bakugou's murder mode first thing in the morning.
As usual, Todoroki's particular brand of training stands out for its ridiculous grandeur. That dual Quirk never fails to draw eyes to its wielder, although Bakugou for one is less stricken by the wide circle of ice and flames than he is by the sight of a shirtless Todoroki panting and sweating in that wash tub.
What's with this guy and pools anyway? It's getting hard to recall the last time Bakugou has seen him fully clothed, for fuck's sake.
Afternoon comes and goes and, before they know it, they're heading for the dining tables, which look suspiciously non-laid. Pussycat #1 cheerily announces that they'll be making their own food tonight, something only Four Eyes sounds equally enthusiastic about. The rest of Class A trudges pitifully toward the stoves, too exhausted to voice much of a protest.
However, as to be expected from a teenagers getaway, it's not long before excitement takes over. Bakugou reluctantly takes up his share of chores, though it doesn't feel like his contribution is as valued as someone's.
"Hey, Todoroki! Can we get some fire over here too?" Black Eyes asks chirpily, hope filling her voice as she beholds the crackling flames beneath Pony Tail's cooking pot.
"Bakugou, use an explosion to light that!" The sticky idiot with the large mouth looks at him expectantly, which instantly wins him a spot on the bomber's to-kill list.
Ok, so here's the thing.
Bakugou hasn't exactly mastered the art of tuning down the destructive potential of his explosions as of yet. A fact he is acutely aware of, and has worked to change all goddamn day, so far with less than promising results. He doesn't need a reminder, least of all in front of -
You're dead to me, Tape.
"This is so beneath me." Bakugou spits in contempt, but tries his hand with the stupid fireplace nonetheless – with predictable outcomes.
"Too much!"
Oh go to hell, Bird Boy.
Footsteps on the ground, a faint rustling of fabric. "Here. Let me…"
Bakugou reflexively stiffens as a thankfully dressed Todoroki crouches by his side to fix the fire. His scarred face looks softer in the warm light, the blonde can't help but notice, and the odd gentleness reaches his eyes as he gets praised by his classmates.
It's possibly the first time he's seen a genuinely content smile on Todoroki's lips.
Bakugou springs up, heat radiating off his cheeks in a way he hopes any bystander would put down to the blazing fire. He shoves his hands down the pockets of his cargo pants and walks away, resolving to put his time to better use since the bunch of idiots and their human torch have got it all covered.
He strolls off to the woods, kicking pebbles along the way. When he's far enough that he no longer hears ominous laughter coming from the camp, Bakugou stretches his abused palms and takes a sharp breath.
Let's do this.
His skin prickling with the familiar feeling of nitroglycerin reacting to his Quirk, he concentrates on conjuring the tiniest possible spark. It still results in an outright blast that sets a couple twigs and branches by his feet aflame.
No good. Crap.
Bakugou frowns and gives it another go.
He soon loses all sense of time, oblivious to the sun setting around him and the night wind rising, the growing numbness in his arms the only indication of just how long his little impromptu training session has been going on. Bakugou scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through his nose, the pungent smell of gunpowder surrounding him. This scent has been part of his life since he was a child, and he lets himself being cradled for a moment, bittersweet memories flooding his brain – memories of a playground and a school and a stream, and a little kid with green hair and a heart too big for his own good. Memories of a golden hero whose broad back would always stand against all hardship, and whose bright smile would bring hope to the hearts of the good, and torment to those of the evil.
"Bakugou?"
Anyone will tell you he's not easily startled, but he sure as hell jumps out of his skin now.
"Holy…!" Bakugou spins around, ready to blast a hole in the stomach of whoever it is that – but of course, none other than Todoroki fucking everywhere I turn Shouto stands before his eyes. "Fuck you, Half-'n-Half! The hell you think you're doing, sneaking up on people like that?"
"Sorry."
That word again. Bakugou snorts to conceal his frantic heartbeat. "You sure seem full of bullshit apologies these days."
He can tell from the way Todoroki straightens his back that the allusion is not lost on him. The dual hero takes it in stride though, composure intact as he steps forward – Bakugou has to will himself to stand his ground and not back off like a frightened rabbit.
"Your Quirk is based off of your sweat, right?" Todoroki asks conversationally.
Just how long had the icyhot been standing there to know what Bakugou had been up to? For there's no way he would say something so random unless he knew the other had been training. Well, fuck me. To have a Quirk like that and the stealth to boot? Life is one unfair bitch.
Blissfully unaware of Bakugou's resentful musings, Todoroki presses on. "That means if you could regulate your body temperature, you should also be able to control the power of your explosions." Pensive eyes bore into Bakugou's, seeking approval. "Am I wrong?"
What's the deal with this guy?
Why does he even care?
Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou decides there and then, is a goddamn riddle.
"No shit, genius." He grunts out eventually, somehow knowing that rhetorical questions are not in the half-'n-half's vocabulary. "Easy for you to say."
Todoroki hesitates visibly, mulling who knows what in that pretty two-tone head of his. Bakugou lets out an irritated sigh. He may have kind of a huge, pansy thing for the guy, but so help him, if Todoroki intends to embark on a lecture on thermoregulation, he will crack his skull open.
"Let's test my theory." Is what the icyhot says instead, before taking Bakugou's hands in his own.
The bomber's knuckles come to rest against the softer skin of Todoroki's palms as the taller boy holds Bakugou firmly by the wrists. It should come as no surprise that the half-'n-half's hands are the perfect temperature, not cold nor too hot -
- it should, but it doesn't, because nothing in the world could have prepared Bakugou for this. Their hands are fucking spooning, and he is expected to process this, how?
When Todoroki activates his Quirk, Bakugou's whole body tingles. Heat seeps through the dual hero's left hand, while cold seizes his right side and transfers straight to Bakugou's palm. The blonde finds himself shivering as the opposite vibes mingle inside of him, stirring up to the very last blood cell.
And then Todoroki presses his thumbs into Bakugou's palms, right against a bundle of sensitized nerves, and it's all the shorter boy can do not to whimper.
Bakugou looks up.
Todoroki's eyes are half-lidded, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. If he were not so engrossed in balancing his Quirk to perfection, he would probably notice the look of naked need in his classmate's eyes.
Don't.
Please.
I…
Bakugou has no idea what he's begging for in his mind, but he's soon biting his lips to keep it a silent prayer, because Todoroki starts rubbing tiny circles in his palms, and suddenly it's too fucking much.
When those soothing hands let go, Bakugou feels his legs give away.
"There, try to light a spark now." Todoroki urges him quietly, no trace of turmoil on his perfectly collected face. "You should feel it's a lot easier to tame."
It's a good thing that he's been using his Quirk on autopilot for years, because Bakugou knows damn well he wouldn't be able to do it now if it required him even an ounce of lucidity. Nitro crackles on his fingertips, ever thirsty for action. Bakugou aims for the ground beneath, bracing himself for the detonation he knows will –
"What the…?"
This must be a joke. Nothing came out of his palms other than a small, pathetic spark.
Bakugou hasn't felt so utterly helpless since he first experienced Eraser Head's Quirk.
"The hell have you done to me?" Forgetting all of his unresolved Todoroki issues, he lashes out at the boy, eyes flashing dangerously. "If your stupid Quirk broke mine, I swear I'll – "
"You can definitely start a small fire with that little blasting power." Todoroki replies unfazed, the tiniest tinge of smugness in his tone Bakugou only picks up on belatedly. "Being a hero is not just about raw strength. You need to learn to control yourself."
These last words ring in his ears.
Surely he's not hinting at…
Since when does Todoroki fucking hint?
"Don't you patronize me!" Bakugou barks out his frustration, which only dies down the moment a decent explosion finally detonates from his still shaken hands. Todoroki looks vaguely amused when the blonde sighs in relief – something that Bakugou would take great offense at, if the smile in the other's voice hadn't turned his brain to mush.
"Anyway, I just came to say dinner's ready." The icyhot turns around swiftly, though not so fast that Bakugou can't make out what he's muttering. "No thanks to you."
"I fucking heard that!"
Todoroki shoots him a not nearly apologetic enough glance over his shoulder and starts walking in the direction of camp. "It's fine if you're bad at cooking, but you could still have helped with the rest."
Bakugou finds himself tagging along and hollering after the other boy like a man possessed. "Fyi, I'm fucking great in the kitchen! Those dumbasses out there got no clue how to make decent curry. I only stood back so I wouldn't humiliate their sorry asses!"
"How noble of you." Is it just him, or Todoroki actually slows down a tad so that Bakugou can catch up? "I can't wait to taste your cooking tomorrow."
And if that sounds too much like a date for Bakugou not to get butterflies in his stomach all through dinner, well, at least he's not missing out on anything.
He wasn't lying – Class A's curry is really fucking disgusting.
Breakfast is uncannily peaceful this morning, due to some of the loudest dumbasses in his class being too distraught to be annoying.
"If I have to keep this up the whole week, I'm gonna kill myself." The lightning idiot declares dramatically, banging his head on the table for effect.
Well, so much for peace and quiet.
Pinky groans in agreement, her own head wobbling with sleep. "Who knew Aizawa-sensei could be so meeeeeean?"
Try, literally everyone? Bakugou snorts to himself, but knows better than to instigate his idiot classmates.
Sitting next to him, Shitty Hair stares with glassy eyes at his cereal bowl and mumbles tentatively, "We sort of brought this upon ourselves by failing our finals. Besides, it's good that we're getting used to a tight schedule. I don't see pro heroes catching much shuteye either."
His spurt of self-awareness is met with indignant cries of protest – "Oh, shut it, Kirishima!" – and Drooly's clumsy attempt at leaning over Bakugou to smack the redhead two seats down.
Bakugou makes a mental note to never sit in the middle again and hits the lightning moron back. "Sit still and eat your fucking breakfast, assholes!"
Todoroki picks that moment to make his entrance. Teal and hazel eyes, instantly drawn to the source of the commotion, meet Bakugou's across the dining hall. The two-tone head hesitates a fraction, then tilts his chin hello. Too stunned to remember he doesn't give a shit about Todoroki anyway, Bakugou nods back, the hairs on his forearms standing up with goosebumps.
Ok, so apparently they're doing this now. Saying hello. Sure. Why not. Bakugou can live with that.
What he can't do is suppress the faint sense of nausea that comes over him as Todoroki takes a seat at Deku's table, two hundred and seven bloody fucks away.
"I can't wait to taste your cooking."
Tonight, Bakugou tells himself, and waits.
"Whoa, Bakugou, you're so good with that knife! It's weird."
"What do you mean it's weird? How can you people be so damn bad at everything?!"
Class A is once again at the stove, getting over a day worth of exertion by passing veggies around and rinsing dishes. His fairly disappointing training having sort of killed his determination to blow Todoroki away with his culinary skills, Bakugou chops carrots mechanically, not taking as much pleasure in the action as he used to when he'd make dinner at home with his folks.
Either he's getting homesick, which is simply not Bakugou, or…
"Look at that. He's not blowing stuff up."
He kicks Drooly in the shin for daring cut off his train of thought, then casts a furtive glance over his shoulder.
They're still there. Todoroki and the goddamn nerd, chatting by the sinks for what feels like an eternity now. Looking perfectly at ease with each other, not engaging in weird stuff like kissing and grinding and holding hands and being fucking half naked all the time.
Which is for the best, because Bakugou would rather not have to kill Deku in front of this many witnesses.
He grits his teeth and chops faster.
(Later, when the goddamn stew is served and everyone's stuffing their faces, Bakugou catches Todoroki flashing him what may be his very bland version of an approving smile. It's so small you wouldn't know it's there unless you were looking for it, so the fact that Bakugou blushes to the roots of his hair must have everything to do with that pinch of turmeric he added to the stew when Kirishima wasn't looking.
His ridiculously high tolerance for spicy food is a secret no one needs to be let in on for now.)
"Alright! Everyone draw to see who your partner will be!"
Sometimes it's the smallest things that send your world tumbling.
As small as, say, a shitty piece of paper.
"Huh?" Bakugou looks obtusely at the matching numbers on his strip and –
No way.
There is just no fucking way.
Todoroki pops up out of goddamn nowhere and peeks over Bakugou's stiff shoulder, his face predictably neutral. "Looks like we're together."
Don't fucking say things like that, you unbelievable –
"Like hell we are." The blonde grunts, not willing to go down without a fight. Maybe fate thinks it's cool to mess with Bakugou Katsuki, but fate's got another thing coming.
For in no universe fictional or real is he ever going into the woods at night for a test of courage with the one person that makes him question his bravery day in day out.
"Listen up, Tail. Trade with me."
It doesn't even matter that Tail got the fucking pervy midget, who is most likely the last person you'd want to be partnered with for anything remotely associated with courage. Right now, anyone Bakugou can feel comfortable bossing around will do the trick.
But of course, hoping for some kind of cooperation in this goddamn school would be shooting for the moon. And they say Bakugou is a shitty teamplayer.
He briefly considers making stupid Deku swap with him – he can totally see himself going solo through this lame ass test – but the implication of that particular trade leaves a bitter taste under his tongue he doesn't like one bit.
It's not that he's jealous, for fuck's sake.
He just makes it a rule to never do anything that might please Deku in any way.
So he sucks it up and follows that denim-clad back into the woods, sweaty hands buried down his pockets and heavy soles trudging on the dirt.
The forest is quiet but for the deafening thumping of Bakugou's heart. Which Todoroki can probably hear loud and clear, given his luck.
"According to this sketch Ragdoll made, Class B should be lurking along the outer ring of the forest. There will be checkpoints down the way so we don't lose track of – "
For shit's sake, just stop talking.
"Gimme that." Bakugou snatches the poor excuse for a map out of the taller boy's hands.
Todoroki doesn't look cross – Bakugou wonders if he's even capable of such an expression – but his lips twitch in a less than happy scowl. "You just don't ask, do you. Ever."
A chill runs up Bakugou's spine. One he has felt before, and has come to refer to as his double meaning alert. He shies away from the other's glance, but manages to sound smug enough as he bites back. "Why ask when I can take?"
If their little incident at the pool hadn't been the big fat ass elephant in the room before, it sure as hell is now. Bakugou can feel it hanging over their heads as Todoroki stops dead in his tracks, the air surrounding him going colder.
He adamantly refuses to address the shift in atmosphere and keeps walking. It's not like they must stick together to get this shit done, so he might as well go on ahead and not be caught in the midst of any girly drama the half-'n-half may want to –
"You are so strong, and yet completely oblivious to what your real strength is."
Bakugou's breath hitches.
He can't not turn now, dammit.
Fallen leaves creak under his sneakers as he spins around, feeling dangerously off-balance from just a quick look at the taller boy. Todoroki's eyes are more intense than Bakugou ever recalls them being, though it might be just the moonlight playing tricks on him. The pale light brings out the sharp contrast of the ice hero's two sides, which should probably look kind of eerie, but Todoroki pulls it off just like he does everything else. It would be infuriating, were it not so disarmingly beautiful.
Bakugou doesn't do beautiful.
"Ya ever shut your face, icyhot?" He growls, because that is what he does. "Damn, you really get off on pulling this holier-than-thou shit all the time. You know riding daddy's coattails doesn't make you a pro hero just yet, don't you?"
Todoroki quirks an eyebrow, which is his personal equivalent of an eyeroll. "Here you go again, just like last night. You'd sooner lash out than take a friendly advice."
"I don't know if you got the memo, but we're not fucking friends."
"No, you're right." Todoroki deadpans quietly. "But I don't hate what we are."
Bakugou's insides churn.
What?
What is this?
He demands a fucking manual to read this guy.
And then, before Bakugou gets a chance to speak, a goddamn head pops out of the ground, and it's so fucking random and unforeseen both of them actually flinch, which gives those idiots from Class B a field day and probably has them fail the test.
Even in his eternal striving for victory, Bakugou stops caring when, amidst the emotional haze he's drowning in, he makes out Todoroki saying, a tinge of worry lacing his tone:
"What's this smell?"
Sometimes it really is the smallest things that send your world tumbling.
"We've discovered one of the villains' target. Kacchan, you should try to avoid combat and stick to a group. I hope you can hear me."
"I can focus, if you get out of my damn head." Bakugou grunts, dodging a tooth spear by a hair's breadth. "I can take care of myself."
The ice wall that shields him from a devastatingly quick side attack begs to differ. Todoroki actually glares at him. "Don't rush into this fight carelessly! Weren't you listening to Mandalay? They're here because they're after you."
After me.
Why in the world would they – ?
"What do I care what anyone says?"
As the toothy villain stabs through the ice and steadies himself, Bakugou's palms crackle in anticipation of his next move.
Todoroki notices straight away. "We can't start fires around here because the flames would spread. Everyone could die if we aren't careful. Do you understand me?" His tone clearly suggests he'd be tackling Bakugou to physically stop him from being a jerk, were it not for the dead weight on his shoulders.
"Yeah, I get it, I'm not stupid."
"Then don't act like it." Mismatched eyes flash with a fierce emotion Bakugou can't put a name to. "Right now, our top priority is your safety."
These last words leave Bakugou feeling tingly all over. "This scum is throwing teeth at us. I think you need to reassess your priorities, half-wit."
"Bakugou." Todoroki pins him down with a simple glance, those goddamn stunning eyes holding him in place like he was hypnotized. "Let me have your back. Just this once."
He can never say no to those eyes.
"I'll be fine by myself!"
"We'll surround you as we walk."
"I don't need any of your protection, dammit!"
"Just make sure you keep up."
"Don't tell me what to do!"
It all sounds so… distant, now. Like a dream long gone.
When Bakugou comes to, there's a stitched hand holding him by the neck. He sees Deku reaching out to him, hears him cry out his name –
"Stay back, Deku."
– that too feels unreal, his own voice coming from the pit of his soul, which is trapped in a very dark place.
(Bakugou vaguely remembers wishing that the half-'n-half bastard wasn't so expressionless all the time.
But that makes no sense, for the way he looks now –
down on his knees, wide-eyed and broken,
– is not something Bakugou could ever have wished for.)