Shouto would like to think he's pretty experienced at avoiding his problems.
He avoided uncomfortable phone calls. He avoided the police. He avoided speaking to his family (even before, when he was on the right side of the law, he hadn't spoken to his mother since she'd given him his scar). He'd avoided using his right side – even though it was a reactive quirk, deeply affected by his emotions - up until the very end of his final year at U.A., when he'd used it to commit patricide.
He is good at it.
It's not that Shouto wants to be alone. (He sticks to Izuku's side like glue.) It's not that he hates him. (He doesn't think he does.) It's not even that he's particularly uncomfortable with opening up to him, about his past, and being vulnerable – he honestly hadn't minded, at all.
In fact, paradoxically, his utter comfort with it was the problem. In no part of the life he had built up for himself (or rather broken down, deliberately and with purpose, into tiny pieces like so many shards of his ice) would there ever be room for attachment or trust.
Shouto kept even Izuku, the person closest to what he would consider a friend now, at arms lenght. Katsuki was not an exception. And neither was Shouto, to him. They both knew this.
Still, he avoids him. He does a good job of it.
He specifically takes on hours he knows he doesn't work, and routes he knows he doesn't walk. (He's not sure when or how he picked up Katsuki's schedule so well, but it's been useful to him in this case and he doesn't want to analyze it further.) He goes on a mission with Toga, of all people.
(Toga spends the entire time either laughing at him for being boring, which he doesn't mind, or speculating on secrets she thinks he has, which is annoying. He wonders if his brother gets the same treatment from her, with how often they seem to be together, and how he, with a violent streak a million times worse than Shouto's, possibly manages to hold off on strangling her.)
He balances his schedule so that his lab shift can coincide with Izuku or even Touya instead of him. It occurs to him that being so diligent in avoiding Katsuki had the unfortunate side effect of making him think about him a lot more than usual.
It's a losing game, he knows it is. Katsuki passes by him in the hallway without so much as a word, only indication he notices him is bumping into his shoulder hard as he walks by him, whatever sort of message he was supposed to get out of that. "Stop ignoring me"? "Ignore me harder"? "Fuck off and die in a ditch"?
(He thinks he might be getting somewhere with that last one.)
"Todoroki-kun."
Izuku. He glances up from his drink (lukewarm water, which had ice in it 5 minutes ago, but drinks never lasted their proper temperature for long around him) as reply. Izuku looks uncomfortable, moreso than usual, hands clasped behind his back and shuffling his feet.
"Todoroki-kun," he says again, punctuating his words with a nervous glance towards the door, "are you and Kacchan... okay?"
Shouto frowns, because drawing attention to himself was the last thing he'd wanted to do. How much does Izuku know? He doesn't think Kacchan – Katsuki, would have said anything to him. What did they even talk bout?
"Why? Is there a reason we shouldn't be?" Izuku grimaces.
"Todoroki-kun, you've turned down every mission with him Tomura's given you since last Tuesday at the very least, and probably for a while before then but that's the first time I know of personally because I had to join Kacchan on that mission as backup and he kept talking about how much better you were as a partner than me and calling you an asshole which is his way of saying he's been thinking about you and Kacchan doesn't think about a lot of people and I think you were with him in the lab that first time but you've always come with me instead after that and I'm flattered but –" Shouto holds up a hand to stop him and pinches his temple between his thumb and forefinger, trying vainly to fight off the tell-tale throb of an incoming migraine.
"I'm not – there's nothing. It's just coincidence." He downs the entire unpleasantly warm glass of water down in one go, then stands up abrubtly. "Aren't there new shipments arriving today?"
Izuku narrows his big, round eyes, clearly not buying it – he's way too perceptive for his own good – but allows him to change the subject.
"They are," he says slowly, "they should have by now actually – I wanted to call you to help set them up."
"Let's go, then," he says, starting briskly down the hallway before the interrogation resumes. Izuku trots after him, mouth clamped suspiciously shut.
They had only just finished carrying the last of the vats and containers in through the rear entry when the metal door that led to the hallway shrieks open, and Katsuki is there. He stops dead in his tracks, then crosses his arms, glare switching between Izuku and Shouto as if he can't decide who deserves his scorn more.
He looks slightly winded, as if he'd run down there from doing something else – which explained his lateness, because Katsuki was never late if he could help it. Bloody murder drips off of every deep breath he takes, and Shouto wants him so bad he aches.
Shouto's fighting a losing game, and he knows it.
Of course Katsuki is too neurotic to leave the setting up of 'his' lab to mere mortals such as Izuku and Shouto. He mentally kicks himself, and he's fairly certain something shows in his expression, because he catches Izuku trying to hide a small smile behind his hand out of the corner of his eye. Katsuki zeroes in on him, and Shouto is almost disappointed.
"Deku... tell Todoroki what to fucking do, I'm not dealing with his shit," he growls, and stalks past them to wrestle his lab coat on.
"We've got it more or less covered, actually," he says before he can catch himself. Katsuki scoffs, pulling his arm through the sleeve and looking more like he was trying to rip a new hole in an opponents body than putting on a piece of clothing. Izuku gives Shouto a look, and Shouto pretends not to see.
They spend the next 45 minutes going through the chemicals from the truck, Izuku quietly whispering to Shouto with instructions where he wasn't sure what to do, and Katsuki fuming as far away from them as possible while still being in the same room.
Whenever he has to ask Shouto for something, or notices some flaw in what he's doing that Izuku doesn't point out (because they're inconsequental flaws, and Izuku is not as big of a perfectionist as Katsuki) he addresses Izuku instead, using him as a messenger between the two. Izuku looks steadily more regretful as it goes on, trying valiantly to catch Shouto's gaze and being carefully avoided.
"Deku, tell Todoroki to stop fucking up my fucking shelves."
"I can hear you, Bakugou."
"Deku, tell him to shut the fuck up."
"Kacchan..."
Really, this is just childish. Shouto had been ignoring him out of nowhere, yes, but they weren't even friends or close in any way besides physical – Shouto knew Katsuki had been under no delusions otherwise. He couldn't be that starved for physical contact.
It reminds him, faintly, of how he had been when they were both still teenagers, and Shouto had refused to use his fire against him in the tournament on their first year. They'd been even less close then, of course, but Katsuki had been the same way then, straddling the line between ignoring him and going out of his way to bump into or otherwise sneer at Shouto whenever they'd been in the same room together.
He'd been baffled at the time, at how personally he'd taken it, but Katsuki was expelled before the end of the year and Shouto was quickly consumed by more important matters than a sulky teenager to give it much more thought.
"Deku, tell Todoroki he's slow as shit and that I'd like to finish this sometime this century so I can stop staring at his ugly mug."
He's honestly way too old for this.
Shouto opens his mouth to retort drily ("you don't have to keep staring at it"), but before he can get anything out, Izuku throws his hands up with a noise of frustration.
They both turn to stare at him.
"I'm fucking done being your messenger pigeon, work it out or have sex or whatever you two do – I'm out!" Izuku says shrilly, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with uncharacteristic anger. Shouto hadn't been aware this was a volume his voice could reach. "Deal with it yourselves!"
He walks right out the door then, and the metal slam echoes deafeningly behind.
Shouto and Katsuki are left in stunned silence. Izuku was shy, polite, puppy-like even. It was rare of Shouto to witness him to showing even visible impatience.
Katsuki is the first to recover. "Useless fuck," he mutters under his breath, kicking over an empty barrel. He then walks over to Shouto, glowering, and forces him out of the way of the shelves he's supposed to be organising.
"Alphabetized, top to bottom, compounds first. Is that too fucking hard for you to grasp, Icyhot, or do I need to teach you English too now?" Katsuki smells so sweet, up close, like the burnt caramel he used to eat scraped of the bottom of the pan as a kid. It's both familiar and overwhelming.
"I can read English just fine. Katsuki."
Katsuki doesn't reply, instead making a low, vaguely threatening sound in his throat as he meticulously rearranges Shouto's handiwork. He puts it back in almost the same positions they were in already. Shouto frowns.
"I'm sorry for avoiding you. It wasn't personal. Just – "
"I don't give a shit," Katsuki grits out. "Stop talking to me."
"Let me explain myself."
"Fucking stop."
"You were like this in UA too," Shouto snaps, patience running thin. Katsuki turns to him then, knuckles white around the plastic container in his hands, face stony. "I tried talking to you, after the tournament. I was going to apologise. But you – "
BANG.
A small explosion – like a firecracker – shoots out of Katsukis's palms, the container bursting apart in his hands. The shelves around them tremble dangerously. From the expression of wide-eyed horror on Katsuki's face, he hadn't meant to do that.
The container was empty. It could have had anything in it. There's only the smell of burnt plastic and smoke, now, both of them frozen in place.
Katsuki's face is ashen and drained of his anger from moments before. He's taken several steps back from the shelf, holding his arms away from himself as if worried they would – well.
"Get the fuck out of my lab, Shouto."
Katsuki's voice trembles as he says it. Shouto closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again to find Katsuki staring at a spot behind him, avoiding his face. He licks his lips.
"I didn't know you had a reactive quirk," Shouto says, making no move to leave.
"I fucking don't," he hisses. "You're a safety hazard. If that container wasn't empty –"
"How is it my fault that you can't control your own – "
"If you would shut the fuck up and do your fucking job right – "
"You're the one acting like a goddamn child – "
Shouto grits his teeth, cutting off his own raised voice. They'd both been shouting. Katsuki snarls and rips his coat off, throwing it on a shelf along with the small bits of plastic blown onto the rows of neatly arranged containers, then stomps past Shouto towards the door. Shouto doesn't turn back.
"Leaving, then?" Shouto calls out coolly, ignoring the strange sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Yep."
"Good."
The door opens, there's a long pause, and then it slams shut, leaving Shouto to clean the mess himself.
But –
The footsteps return. Shouto glances back and barely has time to face and steel himself when Katsuki assaults him, slamming him into the wall with enough force to make the shelf quiver. Shouto blinks at him in alarm, arm up and ready to defend himself necessary, then Katsuki grabs it and pushes him back and then –
And then his mouth is on him, and his hands, everywhere, and Shouto's head drops back against the wall, and he doesn't push him off. His breathing comes out harshes than he likes, but so does Katsuki's and its okay because Katsuki's breath is sweet and warm and – Shouto had been kidding himself, thinking he could avoid him for long, because all it's done is make him want more.
"What -" Katsuki growls, between feverish kisses to his jaw, and neck, and collar, "– the fuck –" he fumbles with his shirt, but it feels like he should be ripping apart his flesh, "– is your problem?"
Shouto thinks it's a hilariously hypocritical question, coming from Katsuki, and he wants to laugh, but then Katsuki sucks sharply on the hollow of his neck exactly how he likes it and it comes out a breathy gasp instead. He runs his hands down Katsuki's beautifully-built shoulder muscles, tracing around the curve of his arm and relishing in the skin bared in his sleeveless black shirt.
"I hate your fucking guts," says Katsuki, and Shouto doesn't think that's true but he would probably not have minded, if it were.
Katsuki's given up on his shirt, or simply too impatient to bother, and he's moved on to tugging at his belt instead, glaring as if it was a sentient being that was in his way. Shouto moves to help him but he smacks his hand away (hard enough to sting) and wraps a palm around the metal clasp. Theres a small crack, and the putrid smell of burning metal, and when Katsuki lets go it falls off limply, broken. That was expensive, he should say, but in all honesty he couldn't give less of a shit, not when Katsuki sinks down in front of him, leaning back on his feet and parting his mouth, ready and waiting and eager to -
Katsuki could break everything Shouto owned, if he wanted.
They both stand there, collapsed against each other on the wall, breathing heavily. The room comes back around them, slowly. Shouto doesn't let go of his grip on his hair, and after half heartedly struggling his head away from him for a short while Katsuki gives up and sags back against him, allowing Shouto to hold him up while they both catch their breath. Shouto runs a hand through the sweat soaked blond hair.
"I thought you were going to blow my face off," Shouto says, once he's got his breathing somewhat under control.
"Blew something else."
"Didn't you say we weren't going to have sex in here?"
"Fuck you." Katsuki's voice is muffled against Shouto's shirt, and he sounds very drained, and very hoarse. Shouto glances once again at the pieces of plastic container scattered around them.
"I didn't know you had a reactive quirk," Shouto says again. Katsuki stiffens against him, and doesn't reply, pretending to be very interested in fixing their pants back properly. He messes with the broken belt buckle some, twisting it around as if a different angle would clasp together.
"Mine is too," says Shouto. Katsuki knows, he's seen his control waver with his flared emotions plenty. "Obviously. But you – keep better control of it than me. I've never seen you accidentally blow something up before."
Katsuki sighs, frustration apparent in his voice. "I told you, it's fucking not. It's just – in very specific situations." Shouto raises a brow.
"Like what? How does your quirk work?" Katsuki twists in his grip, turning his (vicious, vicious) glare up at Shouto. When he speaks, every word sounds like he's insulting him. Shouto really doesn't mind.
"The sweat glands in my hands," he says, as if he was speaking to a particularly stupid child, "they can make nitroglycerin. I can control it, usually, but if I'm sweating for real because it's hot or I'm nervous or whatever it's – harder."
The room wasn't hot.
"You were nervous?" Shouto asks, tilting his head. Katsuki does pull away then, scowling as he pushes himself out of Shouto's arms with force.
"No."
Shouto lets his head fall backwards, resting on the wall, watching Katsuki search his pockets for something – god knows what. He looks surprisingly well composed for someone who'd violently shoved Shouto against a wall, violently made out with him, and had his throat fucked like a whore within the last 20 minutes.
Compared to Shouto, with his stained shirt and broken belt and his undoubtedly tousled hair (to be fair, though, Katsuki's hair was messy as default), he looked practically pristine. Shouto always did get the brunt of the property damage between them.
"We're even now," he tells him. Katsuki snorts derisively, continuing to dig into his pockets.
"A handjob isn't equal to sucking you off."
"That's not what I meant, but duly noted."
He stills his movement then, glancing sharply up at him. "What the fuck are you on about."
"Personal information. We've both exchanged." Shouto shifts under Katsuki's gaze.
"Is that what this is about," he mutters, sounding – Shouto's not sure what that tone conveys, but he doesn't look too angry. He finally fishes out what he's been looking for; a small, bent up pack of cigarettes.
"I need a fucking smoke," he says, as if it needed explanation, and heads towards the back door where Shouto and Izuku had carried the tanks in through earlier, out to the alley beyond. Shouto watches his back, expecting the door to shut again, but Katsuki holds the door open and turns his profile to him. Cool air blows inside.
"Coming, Icy?"
Shouto follows, of course.
The air outside is chillier than Katsuki generally prefers, especially in a tank top, but he's got a killer headache and really needs to calm the fuck down before going back to finish his job – his job that he's been distressingly distracted from.
He's in a better mood now, at least.
He leans against the wall, shivering slightly, and pulls out a cigarette from the packet, lighting it up with a small explosion – a spark, really – from the tips of his fingers. Shouto watches him with an impassive expression, contrasting oddly with his otherwise wrecked appearance. Katsuki likes seeing him wrecked.
"Oi, space heater," he says, placing the cig in his mouth, "why don't you make yourself fucking useful for a change, it's cold as shit."
It takes him a second to catch on, then realisation dawns and his mouth quirks almost imperceptably. "I like the cold," he tells Katsuki, but the air around them heats up anyway, and Katsuki hums low in his throat. "Why not just put the coat on?"
He stares at him. "I'm not going to smoke in a fucking lab coat, Shouto."
Shouto rolls his (pretty, pretty) eyes. Katsuki wants to jam his fingers in their sockets. He blows smoke at Shouto's face instead, hoping to make him cough. He doesn't.
"So, tell me again," Katsuki says, loud, "what the fuck's been going on in your tiny head."
Shouto regards him warily.
"I don't think we're in any position to freely exchange personal details about ourselves."
"Who gives a shit? I can take anyone on, doesn't matter if they know my fucking bloodtype or whatever the fuck," he scoffs, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Hell, Deku's known me since we were babies. What's he gonna do, call the fucking cops on me?"
The air gets just a little bit cooler. Shouto stands in silence, studying him inscrutably.
"You know how stupid it is for people like us to get attached," he finally mutters.
Of course Katsuki does. He's never been worried about the possibility, and its hilarious to him that Shouto thinks it could be a problem. He's almost charmed. He would be, were he not losing IQ by even considering the idea.
"Who the fuck's getting attached?" he says, blowing more smoke at Shouto's face. It earns him a glare, this time. "I just like your dick."
Shouto slowly nods.
"Right."
"I don't give a shit if your mom beat you every day," Katsuki continues.
"That was a – it was the one time. My mother was fine otherwise," Shouto says, and grimaces. Right, daddy issues. Katsuki grins at him lazily.
"Yeah, see, I don't care, so you can tell me whatever the fuck you want," he says, because he really doesn't, and Shouto's expression inexplicably softens.
"I don't care about you either," Shouto tells him, quietly.
"Good."
"You can tell me, too," he says.
"Fine."
Shouto raises his hand between them, the warm one (warm, not hot), almost touching Katsuki's face, then stops. Katsuki stares at it, and Shouto stares too, and then it falls back as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to do in the first place. Katsuki spits the cigarette out of his mouth, and crushes it under his heavy boot.
"Come on," he says, suddenly feeling restless. He makes towards the door back into the warehouse. "We're not done with these bitches."
Shouto makes a quiet sound, like an exhale, but shorter. Katsuki realises its his approximation of a laugh.
"And you're going to stop avoiding the fucking missions, yeah? I'm tired of having to drag Deku's useless ass with me."
"I'll think about it," Shouto says.
"I swear to fuck I'll take Dabi with me if you don't," Katsuki threathens, opening the door. "And I'll suck his dick." Shouto makes a face.
"Ew. Don't. I'll come."
and here's the chapter uncensored, lol. thanks for readin!