A/N: **SPOILERS for the manga starting from this chapter. There's only a few hints here and there in this update, I guess, but the story will follow the manga storyline from now on, so, you've been warned.
Also, I am terribly sorry for the long wait, and for the fact that I don't feel like this chapter does a great job of making up for it. On a brighter note, next chapter will be - well, very much BakuTodo-centric, let's just say that.
Thanks so much for sticking around, please receive all my love and devotion :3 **
If Bakugou said he never expected pro heroes to take an interest in his little mishap with the League of Villains (seriously, what kind of fucker comes up with a name like that…?), he would be flat-out bullshitting. After all, they are living in the heroes galore society, and he is a motherfucking Yuuei student. Not just any student either: Bakugou Katsuki, ranked 1st in this year's entry test, winner of the sports festival – as much as he resents the title with every living fiber in his body – was quite the celebrity even before the whole kidnapping shit came about.
That his idiot classmates would risk being expelled for, as they'd put it, rescuing him (a notion Bakugou is still struggling with), now that's a whole different story.
Deku he can understand. The goddamn nerd's got a hero complex the size of Canada, revels in the spotlight and clings to their childhood memories for dear life. He also has the maddening tendency to completely ignore Bakugou's every attempt at keeping him at bay, which is why the blonde had practically signed up for the flea's oh-so-chivalrous appearance the moment he'd told him to stay the fuck away.
Kirishima is enough of a dickhead to pride himself on the (self-awarded) title of Bakugou's main man, which entails an inhuman amount of nagging and a wide range of preposterous (again, self-imposed) duties – saving his best bro from kidnappers being only the latest addition to an ongoing list.
Even Four Eyes has some business being here, in Kamino fucking Ward, going along with this lame ass rescue plan. Invested with the class president holy mission and determined to fulfil his crippled brother's ambition to become the hero of the ordinary folk, or whatever, he claims he couldn't stay back and watch his friends jeopardize their future for – here he stops and bites his tongue, but Bakugou can easily figure how that thought goes on. It's only fair. He doesn't like the uptight nitwit either.
As they take off under the disbelieving eyes of Shigaraki Tomura and his cohort of worthless sidekicks, Bakugou takes one last look at the icy slab sprouting from the ground, an unvoiced question carving its way into his adrenaline-addled brain.
There is no easy answer.
In fact, there's no answer at all, for days on end.
When classes resume, Aizawa-sensei's little reprimanding speech tells Bakugou part of the story, though not near enough to sate him. He already knows Todoroki had been there with Shitty Hair and the rest. There is still no indication as to why the half-'n-half would even bother though.
At least now he can pay Kirishima back for the goddamn night goggles he bought for the sole purpose of rescuing him. Bakugou has no idea why the redhead couldn't just ask Ponytail to make shit for him – then again, chances are he's too much of a rash, selfless idiot to even have thought of it.
"Huh? Money?!" Kirishima looks down at the outstretched hand, dumbfounded. "What the hell, man, you're scaring me…"
"Yeah, well, I'm cheap as shit, so this is painful for me too."
Blessed with a rare moment of awareness, the hardening hero holds Bakugou's stare, blinking slowly. "Ah… wait! Where did you hear how much I'd…?"
A gibberish-muttering Drooly waltzes past them right on cue, earning Bakugou's dismissive snort. "The dumbfuck always spills."
The sheer gratitude painted on Kirishima's face causes a pang of – guilt? shame? affection? – to seize Bakugou's stomach, to the point he has to physically vacate the scene before embarrassing himself (he might just have been on the verge of smiling right there).
As he saunters off, head buried in his neck, he still picks up on Hair for Brain cheerfully announcing: "Guys, I'm so sorry! It could never make up for it or anything, but… let's go out for some yakiniku tonight with this money!"
Sentimental morons will be sentimental morons, Bakugou scoffs to himself.
He wonders if the goddamn half-'n-half is going all the same.
The day All Might retires is also the day Bakugou realizes something's up with Todoroki.
They have all gathered together in the lounge room to watch the news, everyone from Class A secretly knowing that today shit was going to get real. Regardless of personal preference and devotion when it came pro heroes, there was no denying that a part of their lives would end with All Might's career.
That was all the more true for some of them, Bakugou muses, far from unaffected himself, taking in the sight of a shamelessly sobbing Deku. The goddamn flea is downright shaking, his not-as-puny-as-they-used-to-be shoulders quaking in Round Face's tentative yet gentle embrace.
Crimson red eyes drift back to the tv. The scrawny, beat-up figure of what used to be the symbol of peace fills up the screen as the fight against All For One is broadcasted for what feels like the hundredth time this week. Bakugou wishes people were not so damn nosy, taking morbid pleasure in watching All Might's legend crumble before their eyes again and again.
"Man, I still can't believe this is really happening." Low and uncertain, Kirishima's voice breaks the long drawn out silence, hence triggering an endless stream of lame ass comments Bakugou tries hard to shut out.
"You can say that again."
"Who knew All Might's true form was like that? I mean, I wouldn't even recognize him on the street now, and we've been having classes with the guy the whole year…"
"The tv said that the bulk was like a side-effect of his Quirk, and with that gone, his body just… shrank."
"Can you really lose a Quirk like that, though?"
"What, did it just… disappear?"
"How's that even possible?"
Any doubt Bakugou might have had on the true meaning of All Might's words dissipate the moment he sees Deku squirm in his seat, teary eyes downcast and wide.
"You're next."
People in Kamino Ward took that as the n.1 hero's last stand, a warning, a threat to all villains out there. But Bakugou is no fool.
He always knew Deku's moves reminded him of someone – he just hadn't wanted to face the truth, because the truth fucking stung.
His skin prickles right then, and he is suddenly aware of mismatched eyes boring a hole in his skull.
Todoroki is standing right behind him, bending over the couch where Bakugou is sitting, his arms poised on the headrest. He's close enough that Bakugou could straighten his back a little and his hair would brush against the icy hero's hands – those gentle, slender hands that felt so strong and comforting in his.
They haven't spoken a word to each other since Bakugou has been back. Truth be told, they haven't really had a chance to, what with Recovery Girl practically hogging him to run all sorts of tests to assess his mental state in the aftermath of his traumatic experience – even though Bakugou kicking and screaming throughout the whole thing should have been enough reassurance that he was in no way traumatized. Sure, Hair for Brain and some other dumbasses who had apparently decided they liked Bakugou's company (Drooly, Tape and Black Eyes – if they thought their newly blossomed friendship would make Bakugou commit their names to memory, they could think again) had stopped by to see how he was doing, but Bakugou could never blame Todoroki for not tagging along. They are not friends, goddammit. They are -
"I don't hate what we are."
Bakugou breathes sharply through his nose, a sound Todoroki must take the wrong fucking way, for he shifts a bit to the side, putting more distance between them, and forcibly looks away.
Jeez, this guy.
It drives Bakugou insane, how it feels like any tiny, minuscule thing can bring the two of them closer or draw them further apart. It's exhausting on a good day.
The newsreader's voice somehow catches his ear then, the metallic sound working its way into Bakugou's brain with an imperativeness that almost startles him.
As the era of All Might's undisputed supremacy draws to a close, the world salutes its new n.1 hero, Hellflame wielder Endeavor!
"Huh? Endeavor is n.1 now? Just like that?"
"Wait, isn't that Todoroki-kun's dad?"
"Well, congratulations I guess, Tod – where'd he go?"
Bakugou doesn't need to turn around to know that the presence behind him is gone. The dark emptiness that has settled in the farthest depth of his soul since he got sucked in that goddamn warp grows just that little bit bleaker.
(He dreams of Todoroki again that night. Except there's no naked flesh writhing in pleasure under him, no glimpses of snow-white skin gleaming with sweat, no dilated pupils fixed on him conveying the raw evidence of a brutal desire.
There's a bar, and a chair, and bruises on pale wrists where those perfect hands were rope-bound.
Todoroki looks up at him through red and white locks, ashen lips moving to form words his hoarse throat can't let out.
Bakugou sees it all, but he can't do what he's asked.
Even in dreams, he's weak.)
"I'll be very straightforward with you, Bakugou-kun. We need you to make a statement."
Principal Nezu had sat across from him in the faculty lounge, furry white hands (paws?) entwined on the desk, Eraser Head and Vlad King on his two sides.
"Thought I'd said everything I knew to the police already?"
"This is not about the investigation. I'm fairly sure you realize that Yuuei's position right now is quite… delicate." The principal had leant over the desk, those black round eyes of his that made him look like a fucking stuffed toy sparkling with – was that mischief? "To put it in words that might be more familiar to you, we're in a bit of a shitstorm at the moment."
Class B homeroom teacher Vlad King had looked positively astonished at the crude phrasing, Aizawa-sensei barely lifting an eyebrow in moderate surprise beside him.
Dumber kids than Bakugou would have caught on at that point. "What do you need me to say?" He'd asked, a sense of dread he was powerless to fight back seeping right through his words.
"Nothing you wouldn't be comfortable claiming to be true, my boy."
So here he is, sitting at the conference table, stuffed in a fucking suit one size too small for his broadening shoulders, stiffly tugging at his collar every two other seconds and wondering how good an impression would it make if the excess of sweat on his palms caused him to accidentally blast this shitface journalist's head off his neck.
"The images from the broadcast of your heroic rescuing in Kamino Ward clearly show that some young heroes-to-be, your fellow classmates, are actually to be thanked for you being here today, safe and sound back with the rest of us." Shitface is saying, his self-pleased tone riling Bakugou up to no end.
Are these dumbfucks really trying to take the credit away from All Might?, the blonde asks himself, nails digging into his palms as his fists clench under the table. "That's not what – "
"And it didn't go unnoticed that one of the Yuuei students taking part in your rescuing was promising young hero Todoroki Shouto, son of current n.1 hero Endeavor." The journalist presses on, seemingly undeterred by the murderous look on Bakugou's face. "Have you finally become friends with him, after you two clashed at the sports festival?"
So this is how it's gonna be, huh?
There are white crescent moons on the back of Bakugou's hands where his nails have been denting the skin. As fucking ridiculous though the mere thought may be, it's plain to see that the press is wanting to make this about the Todorokis just to go with the latest trend and kiss Endeavor's majestic ass. Well, Bakugou is having none of this crap.
"I'm not friends with him, nor with any of those dumbasses you saw on tv." He bites his tongue hard to prevent any worse cuss words from escaping his lips, very much aware of Principal Nezu's benign eyes on him. "And I didn't need rescuing in the first place…", he hesitates, briefly wondering whether he's willing to cross this line for the school's sake, before deciding that yes, whatever, he can cradle his pride some other day, "… but if I did, that would be All Might's doing, and no one else's."
Flashes go off as snapshots of Bakugou's feral scowl are taken, low murmurs breaking out across the conference room. Shitface thankfully shuts the fuck up, Bakugou notices, the livid look on his dull features bringing a smug smile on the blonde's face. Before he dares consider himself off the hook, a female reporter butts in.
"How do you feel about All Might retiring from the hero scene? Did it come as a shock to you, as it did to all of us, to find out what his true form was all along?"
Bakugou can practically hear the motherfuckers holding their stinky breaths, sitting on the edge of their seats, their pens and recording devices midair, lusting for declarations to twist however they'd see fit in tomorrow's newspapers.
Good luck tryna twist this.
"If you people think All Might's less of a hero because he's thinner, then you don't even have the goddamn right to be asking questions on the matter." He replies, leaning into the microphones to make sure he gets his message across loud and fucking clear. His eyes meet Principal Nezu's across the room, and the fluffy hero gives him a thumb-up Bakugou takes as his cue to conclude this goddamn joke of a conference. "That's all you'll be getting from me," and there's a not-quite inaudible 'assholes' leaving his lips as he pulls back from the microphones that earns him a half snort from Aizawa-sensei's general direction.
Kirishima's pestering begins remarkably late in the afternoon, Bakugou will concede. He has a nagging suspicion the redhead is being more considerate around him because of the whole 'my best bud got kidnapped and possibly tortured while I was doodling penises on the edges on my notebooks in remedial class' thing, which should really piss him off, except Bakugou is inclined to feel grateful for anything that can get idiots off his back.
"You totally kicked ass at the conference, man!" The hardening hero beams at him, one arm swung casually around Bakugou's neck as the touchy-feely moron can hardly keep his paws off any unfortunate human being he happens to be talking to. His voice takes on a mock hurt tone as Kirshima adds, only half-jokingly: "Even though you were kinda cold to the rest of us."
Bakugou jerks the other off his shoulders as he does every fucking time, because, seriously, what's a man gotta do to be left alone around here?, a dangerous glare plastered across his face. "The hell did you expect, Hair for Brain? I didn't ask you to do shit, did I?"
"That's not it. All I'm saying is, you could at least have acknowledged Todoroki's role in this story."
"And that would be…?"
The expression of utter disbelief on Bakugou's face throws Kirishima off nearly as much as realizing his potty-mouthed friend has just got to the end of an – admittedly short – sentence without swearing once. "Um, I dunno? You mean, beside planning the whole rescue mission to begin with?"
Suddenly the ground feels horribly shaky under Bakugou's feet. "You're shitting me, right. Why the fuck would he…?"
"Caught me by surprise too, If I gotta be honest, but Todoroki was worried sick about you, man." Kirishima fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt, looking somewhat uneasy as he carries on, his words dripping with what Bakugou detects as guilt. "I didn't feel like staying back and twiddling my thumbs any more than he did, so I was on board straight away, but he came to me with the plan first." Red bangs flutter against shark-like features as his head shoots up to give Bakugou a piercing look. "He didn't tell you?"
There's a deep stillness in Bakugou's world, an unearthly silence muffling his ears, his entire being clasped in a freezing vice.
He knows this feeling. It has stayed with him since that goddamn warp.
Bakugou doesn't like not knowing.
"Where is he?" He manages to choke out eventually, Kirishima eyeing him warily. "Haven't seen his stupid shortcake head all day."
"Been packing, I guess. I think Midoriya said he's going home for a while." The knowing grin stretching Kirishima's lips suggests the obnoxious redhead understands a hell of a lot more than he lets on. "You may still be able to catch him before he leaves, if you go now."
Bakugou puts a commendable amount of energy into glaring back at his shitty friend, but it comes off as pretty empty since the next thing he knows he's storming up the couple flights of stairs leading to Todoroki's room, skipping every few steps, heart pounding in his throat like a blasted yearning teenager.
Which he kinda is, in a way, alright, goddamnit.
When banging on the half-'n-half's door spewing threats through his teeth and hissing at any student who has the misfortune to pass him by proves futile, Bakugou finally convinces himself that Todoroki is gone.
He staggers down the stairs, reaching for the handrail to steady himself on wobbly legs, his feet dragging him blindly around. It matters shit where he's going, as long as he keeps walking. He doesn't think he could trust himself to school his face if he stayed in one place long enough for someone to approach him, to be honest.
It shouldn't be surprising, really. Overreaction is Bakugou's second name. Shame on him for thinking that would only apply to anger.
"Believe it or not, I could care less what happens to you."
Everything had been clear at the time. Todoroki wanted nothing to do with him, was grossed out by Bakugou kissing him and wouldn't give a damn if the guy dropped dead before his very eyes. Hurtful though that might have been – and it's not to say that Bakugou had hurt over something so trivial, mind you – it had made sense. And Bakugou could do that. He likes things that make sense.
Todoroki teasing him, smiling at him, touching him, helping him with his Quirk, wanting to keep him safe, saving him, only to go back to ignoring him, shying away from his gaze, never speaking, never telling – none of this makes sense anymore. True, the guy has hot and cold in his fucking name, but that is no reason to act like he was bloody bipolar.
And maybe it's just his post-traumatic bullshit talking, but Bakugou is not sure how much more of the emotional rollercoaster he can take.
His feet come to an abrupt halt as he finds himself at the very bottom of the dorm staircase. Feeling like a colossal nitwit for losing track of his surroundings like that, he pokes his head out to peek inside the lounge. He isn't just going to turn on his heels and go back where he came from with no apparent reason for getting down here in the first place if there are witnesses. Things have been awkward as fuck at school since he's become 'the kid who got snatched by villains'; god knows he doesn't need people whispering behind his back for any more reason.
Peppermint hair and alabaster skin hit him like a punch in the teeth.
He's marching into the common room before he can think better of it. "Oi, Half-'n-Half!"
Todoroki is standing by the entrance door, a small suitcase at his feet. He's wearing the same faded blue jacket he had on that night in the woods, Bakugou can't help but notice, only it seems to hang loosely off his sagging shoulders now. He didn't know it was physically possible for a healthy teenager to lose that much mass in less than two weeks, yet the icyhot somehow has.
How the fuck did I not notice before?
"Bakugou." Todoroki's voice betrays his surprise for a second, but regains confidence in a flash. A barely-there smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I saw you at the conference today."
Bakugou makes a show of rolling his eyes in mock exasperation – which conveniently gives him the chance to break eye contact and possibly get his fucking shit together. "If you're gonna give me the whole 'you coulda said thank you' speech, I'm warnin' ya, just save your breath."
"That was not my intention." Todoroki adjusts the backpack strap on his left shoulder to keep it from sliding down his bent arm (Bakugou thinks the damn thing wouldn't be falling in the first place if the half-'n-half hadn't gotten so fucking rawboned). "What that journalist tried to pull was awful. You really put him in his place."
"Of fucking course I did, 'm not an idiot." The blonde spits quite hatefully, before doing a verbal double-take. "Wait, you mean you noticed?"
"It was kind of hard to miss how he was going out of his way to make it look like father and I did all the work, just because we're the next hot thing."
Some twisted part of him has Bakugou laugh internally knowing that, if Todoroki had the slightest idea what the word 'hot' coming out of his mouth sounds like to the blonde's ears, he would rip off his own vocal chords. "Fucking hypocrites, all of them." He agrees on the outside, a scornful smirk arching his lips. "Your old man must be overjoyed."
"That's hardly the word I would use." The dual hero shrugs half-heartedly, the sorry-not tone to his voice openly at odds with the token sympathy in his words. "To become n.1 down to All Might retiring, and not because he got to prove his superiority, was a terrible blow to his ego." Mismatched eyes give Bakugou a wistful, almost shy look. "You of all people should understand that."
Biting back the 'yea, you would know something' that begs to come out, Bakugou lets his gaze travel down Todoroki's figure – not like that, jesus – and ultimately land on the boy's suitcase. He could make an educated guess about how long the icyhot is going to be away based on the size of his luggage, but he suspects it would make him a complete creep to even try, so he takes the casual route instead. "Heard you're going home for a while."
"I am. Father does not approve of how Yuuei handled the situation with the League of Villains barging in on our training camp, so he decided I should train for the provisional license exam at home, under his supervision."
"What about you? Do you agree you'll be better off with him?"
Todoroki's previously neutral expression falters. "I just think maybe he has a point this time. If I were stronger, better… if I had been faster that time with… nothing would have happened to you."
Bakugou can't – won't – believe his goddamn ears. "Don't fucking give me this shit. You can't seriously be so self-centered as to blame yourself for that."
"That's not just it." Todoroki deadpans quietly, his voice steady in spite of the way he fiddles with the nametag attached to his suitcase telling a different story. "What All Might did… how he was exposed, and how this led to the end of his career… I saw your face when the news got out he was going to step down."
He saw my – he was looking at me?
Even amid what sounds like a full-fledged admission of guilt, Todoroki's eyes never leave Bakugou's, never retreat, serious and proud in that way that makes Bakugou's blood seethe. "I'm aware of how much All Might means to you… and to Midoriya, and everyone else, I suppose. None of this would have happened if I were a better hero. That's why I have train harder and do everything in my power so that I don't ever fail anyone else the way I failed you."
There's no evidence of true bitterness in the statement, but the underlying matter-of-factness of the whole speech has Bakugou shake like an autumn leaf – a very angry, very emotional leaf. "This failing crap is a load of bullshit. If anyone should have been stronger, that's me. I let myself get fucking snatched away like a goddamn damsel, and all I could do was get in All Might's way and almost get him killed, all because of how fucking weak I was." His voice rises gradually to the point of a hoarse shout, before going down again to barely above a whisper. "If you and Hair for Brain hadn't come for me, shit would have really hit the fan." Bakugou sums up, positively sulking. "Don't think I'm fucking happier about this than you are."
The ghost of a startled expression crosses Todoroki's unfairly attractive features for a second. It's gone soon enough, the well-practiced poker face slipping back in place effortlessly. "I guess we're both going to have to train harder and become better versions of ourselves."
"Damn straight, half-ass."
"I'll see you at the provisional license exam then."
"You'd fucking better."
Silence. Hating every inch of his skin as a telltale blush creeps up his neck, Bakugou shuffles his feet, eyes darting in all directions to spare him the further embarrassment of having to hold the taller boy's stare. Much to his dismay, Todoroki doesn't seem to be having the same problem, hazel and teal eyes fixed unabashedly on a very specific point of Bakugou's face, somewhere between his nose and -
Todoroki motherfucking Shouto is staring at his lips.
Bakugou's cheeks flare up right on cue, blood pumping faster in his veins.
The hell is this guy's deal?
Why can't I tell?
Why can't I ever tell?
At least the deafening beat of his heart muffles the sound of his shameful stutter as Bakugou blurts out: "Y-Y'know, I don't see how you plan on becoming a hero if you're not gonna take credit for those you save." He clears his throat, hoping that will help him sound haughty as intended. "You don't reach the top by being humble, half-brain."
"I wasn't being humble." Todoroki replies almost instantly, looking totally unfazed at being caught staring. All that ice in his system got him nerves of steel, Bakugou will have to give him that. "I just didn't want you to think I'd save you out of guilt."
Tch. A full-toothed grin stretches the blonde's lips. "That's good to hear. 'Cause I'd beat the shit out of you if that was your reason."
When Todoroki gives no sign of having caught on to the unvoiced request, Bakugou curses under his breath and barks out. "Well? You really need me to ask, dumbass?"
That pretty mouth opens in a silent 'o' that makes something tighten in the shorter boy's chest. "Based on your answer just now, I thought you would know why."
Bakugou thinks he might just be beating his personal record of number of eyerolls in a single conversation. "Just indulge me, will you?"
"I couldn't… stand it."
It's the hands that give him away. Even though his voice is firm and his eyes never waver, Todoroki's hands clench around the backpack strap and the suitcase handle respectively, the whitening of his knuckles speaking volumes to a watchful observer – which Bakugou very much is right now.
"Stand what?"
Todoroki's phone picks that moment to buzz alive. The half-'n-half reaches into his pocket, casts a quick look at the screen and presses the end call button with less than steady hands. "I have to go."
Later, Bakugou will be grateful for whatever desperate force drives him to lunge forward and grab Todoroki's wrist. "Not so fucking fast, icyhot!"
Later.
For right now, he has no fucking clue what he'd wanted to do.
Panic crosses his face as Todoroki's quizzical, vaguely alarmed gaze falls on him.
Think.
Kiss goodbye?
C'mon, say it. What's so fucking hard about this. Kiss goodbye?
He was staring at your lips.
Just say it. Kiss goodbye?
It's two goddamn words. C'mon.
But he's a fucking coward, again and again.
Relief washes over him with almost painful intensity as Todoroki makes the decision for both of them. The half-'n-half's wrist rotates gently in Bakugou's vice-like grip, his hand closing around the blonde's, long, deft fingers trailing down the other's wrist. It's feather-light, yet so breathtakingly intense that Bakugou's breath catches in his throat.
His voice sounds awfully strained when he grumbles: "Be sure to work your ass out and eat some real food, halfwit. Dun fucking waste away on me, ya hear me?"
Todoroki's hand squeezes his briefly, the gesture closer to a promise than the words themselves. "You got it."
Then he's off, waving casually in the air with that same hand that held Bakugou's with impossible, inexplicable care.
Todoroki kisses him for the first time in his dreams that night.
