"Bakubro, who are you taking to prom?" Kirishima, his meathead best friend asks from across the weight room. Cumulatively, Katsuki has probably spent most of his high school career in this small, sweat-damp room, whether it be from mandatory soccer conditioning, or from his penchant to overachieve. Kirishima is a beefy football star, and they might've never spoken to each other if not for their mornings spent here.

Katsuki grumbles, grunting under the weight of the leg press. He finishes his set of reps, and locks the machine in place before he answers.

"Prom is fucking stupid. I ain't going."

"What! You have to go," Kirishima bellows, waving gigantic free weights around like they weigh nothing.

"Last I checked, shitty school dances aren't mandatory."

"But! The memories!"

"Memories of sweating in a cheap rental tux and eating shitty chicken? Pass."

"You never go to school dances, and prom is the big dance," he says, like he's making a good argument. He wipes sweat from his face, and puts the free weights down. Apparently, their workout is done. "Bet you just don't want to go alone, and you know you won't find a date in time."

Katsuki sneers. He knows Kirishima is baiting him, but he's literally incapable of not rising to it.

"Hah? I could have anyone I want in this shitty school! I just don't want to go!"

"Is that so? Wanna make this interesting then?" Kirishima smirks. Katsuki's fallen for his bullshit, hook, line, and sinker. He doesn't back down from a challenge, especially not a challenge he can win something from. Kirishima continues.

"I pick your prom date, and you make it happen. The limo, the tux, the kiss at midnight—all of it."

Katsuki mouth moves faster than his brain. He hardly thinks of anything before he's emphatically agreeing.

"You're on, Shitty Hair," he says, pushing himself off the bench to clap Kirishima's hand in a gentleman's agreement. "And fuck you for making me go to the goddamn prom."

"I didn't make you do anything!"

—

"A guy?" Katsuki stares at the person on the other end of Kirishima's pointed finger. He's baffled. "No fucking way! Pick someone else."

Not only is it a guy, but it's the nerdiest fucking guy in school. It's lunch time and he's entirely alone, sitting dangerously close to the overflowing dumpster. He's one of those social pariahs that everyone either avoids or accosts, depending on how they're feeling that day. Katsuki doesn't even know how that unspoken rule came to be. Katsuki doesn't even know his name. Well, his real name, anyway. Everyone calls him Deku. They've been classmates since primary school, and he's always been Deku. He's always been weird. He's always been skinny, in loose hand me down clothes. He's a walking cliche—all he's missing are an obnoxiously big pair of glasses and a kick me sign on his back.

"Why? You like guys!"

"I'm not exactly out. Who comes out in high school?"

"This is the twenty-first century! And you're not exactly in the closet, either. Remember Camie's party last year? Shindo?" Kirishima gives him a knowing, pointed look, complete with raised eyebrows and something that could maybe pass for a wink.

"I could never forget Shindo," Katsuki says, an uncharacteristically dreamy lilt to his usual gruff baritone.

"Yeah, neither can anyone else. You were very loud."

"Fuck all the way off," Katsuki says, beet red and shoving Kirishima away as he snickers at Katsuki's expense. He falls off the bench, and Katsuki feels vindicated. That is, until he doubles down on his choice for the bet.

"Shine up your dancing shoes, Bakubro. You're taking Deku to the prom." Kirishima picks himself up off the asphalt and dusts off his pristine letterman jacket.

Katsuki groans. It's not that he really gives a shit what people think—it's that he can't fathom spending an evening in the company of someone like Deku. They probably have nothing in common. Katsuki can't even think of a time he's ever heard Deku speak.

"This is going to fucking blow."

"Honestly, bro, I'm going easy on you. You think that guy's not going to jump at the attention? It'll probably be the highlight of his year."

He has a point. The poor bastard can't have much going for him. There's just… one problem.

Katsuki knows fuck all about dating, flirting, and generally being nice.

"How the fuck do you ask someone out?" Katsuki blurts. Kirishima splutters, guffaws, and breaks into obnoxious laughter. Katsuki shoves him off the bench again.

"Try being nice!"

"Be serious," Katsuki says, anger burbling under the surface of his skin. Maybe he was too hasty in taking this bet.

"I am serious! Mina likes being complimented. Go tell him his eyes are pretty."

"Fuck you," Katsuki says, mostly as a knee jerk response.

—

Katsuki spends most of the lunch hour psyching himself up—inflating his ego to dangerous proportions. It doesn't take much to remind himself of all the things he has going for him: a 4.0 GPA, captain of the soccer team, a pretty face, and a brooding bad boy image.

Who wouldn't want to date me?

Katsuki marches up to Deku's slightly rancid lunch spot just before the bell rings. He's got his history textbook in his hands, but Katsuki can see that he's actually hiding a comic book in there. Odd. He's hunched over it like Gollum—or is it Smeagol? Katsuki only half-watched those movies.

"Hi," he barks. Deku nearly jumps a foot in the air, his book clattering to the blacktop. He scrambled to grab it and put it in his bag, like he got caught with contraband. He says nothing—he just stares up at Katsuki, and it's more than a little unnerving.

"You have pretty eyes."

Katsuki notes, briefly, that his eyes are pretty—in a mossy, deep kind of way. He's too skinny and his eyes take up his whole face, like a goddamn bushbaby, but he's not ugly. He's got a sweet dusting of freckles across his cheeks, and curly, dark hair that'd probably work for him if he ran a brush through it.

Deku still says nothing. The only sign that he even heard Katsuki is that his mouth puckers in a little grimace. And then, the little shit has the audacity to pull a pair of sunglasses out of his bag and slowly put them on. It'd be funny if it wasn't clearly meant as a fuck off.

The bell rings, and Deku vacates the premises at an impressive speed. Katsuki almost smiles.

Maybe this will be more fun than he thought. It definitely won't be easy, but Katsuki likes a challenge.