It was a Friday night, and Bakugou Katsuki was Suffering.
“Get the fuck off of me, angel face,” he growled, giving Ochako a shove in an attempt to dislodge her hold on him. She barely budged, damn her.
“Please, Bakugou. I—I need a wingman, ok. I’m begging you here,” Ochako said, clinging to his arm like she might fall over otherwise.
Which she might. She was drunk as hell. To be fair, so was he, but still. Bakugou was the only one allowed to be drunk as far as he was concerned.
“That doesn’t look like begging to me,” he grumbled, hauling her along with him as he went to the bar for another drink. Of water. Mostly for her.
Jesus christ, how did this even happen.
She launched herself bodily onto him the moment he let his guard down, her dress riding up and likely flashing her fucking panties at anyone who wanted to look. “PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU. HELP ME GET LAID,” she yelled, her arms around his neck and nearly choking the air out of him.
Bakugou squawked, scrambling to attempt to preserve her dignity by angrily peeling her off and pulling her dress back down, though he probably wasn’t too successful, if the sudden stares of about eight different people were anything to go by.
“Fucking fine, jesus christ you are the literal worst drunk I have ever met in my life,” he hissed, grabbing the water the bartender handed him wordlessly and thrusting it at her. “Fucking drink this entire thing right the fuck now or I’m not doing shit, got it?”
Her eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. She grabbed the cup from his hand and started chugging the contents immediately.
He took the brief reprieve to glance across the room and size up his target. Or, well, their targets, he supposed. Ochako was after a short boy with a mop of unruly green hair, his freckled face split with a grin that was open and inviting in a way that made Bakugou sick to his stomach. He hated the guy on sight. Bakugou was meant to be suffering for this? Fuck.
He sighed, looking at the man standing next to the idiot Ochako wanted in her pants. Now this Bakugou would have understood, if that was who Ochako had been after. He was tall, broad in the shoulders and slim in the waist. His hair was dyed in a way that reminded Bakugou of Harley Quinn, one half of it a brilliant white and the other a deep blood red—cute in that way that said ‘I’m trying but not too hard because I don’t really need to’, which Bakugou found relatable. His expression seemed more aloof and reserved than the sparkly-eyed idiot, though he turned to smile at something the annoying guy said or did every so often.
He had a very bad-boy look about him that Bakugou couldn’t deny he was into.
From across the room, Bakugou could see his eyes were two different colors when they caught in the passing strobe lights above the dance floor. He wondered if they were like that naturally or if the effect was due to contacts.
He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
Ochako handed him the empty cup of water with a grin when she was finished, bouncing on the balls of her toes. “Ok, so here’s the plan, you’re going to come with me and we’re gonna start—“
“Nope. Shut the fuck up. If I’m being wingman, we’re doing this my way or no way at all,” he cut in, glaring at her. She puffed up her cheeks as if she meant to argue but nodded after a moment.
Wise even when drunk, Bakugou noted with a small amount of pride.
“Alright. We’re gonna go over there,” Bakugou gestured to the dance floor, “and dance until he can’t not look at you. And THEN we’re gonna stop and say something like wow we need a break, and we’re gonna go stand next to them. And after that it’s up to you to do the talking, because you and I both know I can’t fucking talk to anyone without ruining shit.”
Normally he would never admit to such a thing, but Drunk Bakugou was a lot more honest than Sober Bakugou, truth be told.
“That was exactly what I was going to say,” she nodded sagely.
Bakugou snorted. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I’m not stupid.”
She grinned, raising her hands as if caught. “Ok, but before we dance, we’re doing one more thing.”
“SHOTS!” she cried, turning to the bartender and ordering two shots of straight rum.
Bakugou sighed, feeling his Suffering increase with every second.
Once she turned to him with both in hand, he groaned, looking at the contents of the glasses and feeling regret already. “Remind me why I have to play wingman tonight and not Kirishima?”
“Because he currently has his tongue down Kaminari’s throat, obviously.”
They both turned to look, where up against one of the walls of the club in a very conspicuous and not at all subtle spot stood two of his best friends. Who were currently making out with no small amount of drama. Kirishima had somehow lost his shirt.
“What the fuck,” Bakugou sighed, picking up the shot glass from Ochako with resignation. “Why do I even hang out with any of you.”
“Because we love you!” she replied, before tapping their glasses together. “And you love us.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
They both downed their shots wordlessly, neither of them even grimacing. Bakugou would never admit it, but Ochako was a pro at holding her liquor, unlike two other drunk idiots he knew.
“Alright. Let’s fucking dance,” he growled, grabbing her arm and dragging her out onto the dance floor as she laughed along behind him. Her laugh sounded more sinister than it was probably supposed to. Bakugou found it endearing, though he kept that to himself.
They took their place in the crowd, Bakugou noting that the music that was playing was definitely good for his style of dancing. Ochako’s, too.
They were gonna fucking kill it.
While they all went out together somewhat regularly, Kirishima and Kaminari were basically useless as far as dancing was concerned. The two of them could talk their way out of just about any problem and into just about anyone’s pants. It was a skill to be envied, and Ochako often complained about it at great length.
But Bakugou and Ochako? They could dance like few could, and their claim to fame was much more impressive as a result.
In front of him, Ochako did a little twirl, sticking her ass out just enough to hint at what was beneath the hem of her skirt as she did so. If Bakugou wasn’t gay as hell, he’d be falling over himself.
As it was, she was just competition right now, so he spun around and did the same move but better, goddammit, his back arched and hips swaying exactly how he meant for them to, following the beat precisely on point.
They very rapidly had a crowd forming around them, people watching with envious and lustful gazes alike. Their targets were no exception.
Bakugou thrived on the attention, on knowing no one here was quiet as hot as he was when on the dance floor.
He spun around, grinding back against Ochako lewdly, his hands running down the front of his chest suggestively. Behind him, Ochako grabbed his hips, throwing her head back on a loud laugh as she ground back, one arm raised above her head as she did so.
They were drunk as hell and Bakugou wasn’t sure he’d ever had more fun. Kirishima and Kaminari were going to be jealous of this later.
After several songs had passed, Bakugou tapped her on the shoulder, gesturing to the sidelines of the dance floor. She glanced sideways, seeing the two boys still staring at them, the shorter one’s mouth hanging open in abject awe.
Bakugou grinned, though it was all sharp points and feral triumph. Ochako returned the look in kind.
They were already halfway there, he guessed. Too easy.
As they came to a standstill against the wall of the club beside the two of them, Bakugou wiped at his brow, looking out on the crowd dispassionately and waiting for Ochako to do her thing.
“Hey! Have you guys danced tonight?” she asked brightly, all smiles. Bakugou knew better, but they didn’t.
The taller one blinked as though confused, turning to the other with a questioning gaze.
“We—we have, but not for a while now. I’m, ah. I’m thinking about dancing again soon, though. If you’d like to maybe join me?” he asked, clearly nervous.
Ochako grinned like Bakugou imagined a cat might once it had sunk its claws into a particularly delicious canary. “I would love to!”
“I’m—I’m Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku,” the guy rushed to say. “This is my friend Todoroki Shouto. We, ah. We were very impressed with your dancing.”
Ochako smiled up at them both, brown eyes gleaming in the dim lighting. “Ah, thank you! We certainly try. It’s so nice to meet you both though! I’m Uraraka Ochako, and this is my best friend, Bakugou Katsuki. He’s gay,” she finished sweetly.
Bakugou gave her a shove. “Shut the fuck up, angel face. No one cares.”
“On the contrary,” Midoriya began. “Todoroki probably cares a lot. After all, he’s also—“
He broke off when Todoroki elbowed him sharply in the side.
“S-Sorry Shouto! I didn’t mean to, ah, I—I’ll buy you a drink!” he shouted.
“It’s fine, Izuku,” the taller man mumbled. Todoroki, Bakugou’s inebriated brain helpfully supplied.
Ochako seemed to sense the tension, grabbing Midoriya by the hand suddenly to diffuse things. “Let’s dance, ok?”
Midoriya spluttered but followed eagerly.
This left Bakugou with Todoroki. Bakugou grinned.
“So you’re into guys, huh?” he asked, cheeky and going in for the kill, his face split in a smirk.
Todoroki shot him an unreadable look, though it did appear to be mildly pained. “I am,” he acknowledged.
“What’d you think of my dancing?” Bakugou asked, leaning closer. He wanted a better look at Todoroki’s eyes. Upon further examination, they were definitely natural, one eye a dark brown and the other a very vibrant blue.
Heterochromia, Bakugou thought to himself. That’s kind of hot, actually.
“I thought you were pretty good,” Todoroki said, nodding at him before his lips quirked up to one side. “I’m better, though.”
Something angry flared to life in Bakugou’s chest. “Excuse me?”
“I said, I’m a better dancer.”
Bakugou breathed in deeply, hating the guy instantly. Fuck being a wingman, this was officially now a competition. “Oh really, asshole? Fucking prove it then, if you’re so sure.”
Todoroki’s mouth split in a grin, his teeth flashing in the dark for only a second as his hand wrapped loosely around Bakugou’s wrist, dragging him onto the dance floor.
Bakugou followed eagerly, ready to show this fucking guy that he was dead-ass wrong.
The song playing was fun, lighthearted and carefree and very much pop with a club twist. Bakugou threw himself into it, head thrown back, his rhythm perfection in motion.
Across from him, Todoroki did the same, his hair swaying enticingly, which only served to piss Bakugou off even more.
The song changed abruptly, the beat deepening into something low and sensual. Bakugou immediately turned, flashing his back to Todoroki, knowing how his ass looked in his jeans, how his pale arms gleamed, muscular and broad in the dim lighting of the club. It outfit was calculated to play up all his best features, and Bakugou was ready to capitalize on it as much as was necessary.
He turned to throw a dark look over his shoulder, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he did so.
Todoroki froze, eyes wide. Bakugou was prepared to declare victory right then and there, but before he was able to, Todoroki stepped up to him, aligning their bodies so that Bakugou’s ass in his too-tight jeans sat comfortably snug against Todoroki’s crotch.
“You’re very good at that,” Todoroki breathed into his ear, just barely audible over the pulsating thrum of the music. “But still not as good as me.”
Before Bakugou could protest, Todoroki’s hands were on him, arms wrapping around Bakugou’s hips and pulling him flush against him to grind together, his body rolling lewdly behind him to the beat of the music. Bakugou threw his head back, resting it along the curve of Todoroki’s shoulder, one hand rising to fist in his hair as he arched his spine, pressing back into the touch, his other hand coming to cover one of Todoroki’s own where it lay against him.
Maybe he’d end up being a wingman after all.
Bakugou felt like he was in control of the dance until Todoroki’s mouth dropped to the line of his neck, breathing hotly against him, his lips ghosting along the exposed skin of his collar bone.
Bakugou’s eyes flew open, a strangely conflicted feeling rising in him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to try and control the dance again or not. He was kind of enjoying being manhandled for once. Most people weren’t even brave enough to try.
He spun around after a moment, but moved in close again before Todoroki could pull away, lining their bodies up. Bakugou pressed his leg between Todoroki’s, Todoroki doing the same in turn, so that with every roll of their hips they ended up grinding against one another’s thigh.
Todoroki’s left hand tangled in his hair, his right finding its way up Bakugou’s shirt to dance along the expanse of his ribs. Bakugou groaned, hoping it couldn’t be heard over the noise, his breath coming out in hot gasps against Todoroki’s neck and shoulder. He bit into the material of Todoroki’s shirt on impulse, his teeth pulling the fabric back as he moved just far enough to look him in the eyes, his gaze sharp with challenge and dark promise.
Todoroki only broke eye contact long enough to stare at Bakugou’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Bakugou’s own unconsciously mirrored the action.
“See something you like?” Bakugou asked smugly over the din of the music, enjoying the power that came with the question.
Todoroki’s eyes narrowed, something mischievous lingering in their depths that Bakugou wasn’t necessarily sure he liked. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet,” he replied.
Bakugou felt a growl stick in his throat, anger and something else equally hot coursing through him in waves. All at once, he was done with playing this game. Todoroki was too fucking good at it for it to be any fun. Bakugou just wanted to win.
So he pulled out his trump card, the only thing he could think to do given the situation.
He pulled Todoroki down in front of god and fucking everyone at the club, pressing his mouth against his right there on the dance floor and grinding up against him fully.
Todoroki kissed him back without any hesitation, stopping all pretense of dancing in favor of simply grinding against Bakugou to the beat. Bakugou wasn’t about to complain.
He could feel people around them staring, which he supposed he couldn’t begrudge them for. They had been garnering a lot of attention with their dancing, after all. It only made sense that people would want to stare at the two hottest guys in the room anyway, particularly when they were making out.
Bakugou promptly forgot about the rest of the room, and fuck, the club in general, when Todoroki’s tongue brushed hesitantly against his lips. Bakugou couldn’t decide if he was losing his mind due to alcohol or lust or both. All he knew was that he didn’t care.
Todoroki’s tongue was downright sinful, and Bakugou wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything else besides feel it against his own ever again.
They stood there making out for all the world for so long Bakugou completely lost track of time, but when he came to his senses it was to realize an entirely different song was playing and that several may have passed without his noticing.
And also that someone was screeching obnoxiously above the chaos around them in a voice he knew all too well.
“WOO, BAKUGOU, MY MAN! GET IT!” someone screamed. And by someone, Bakugou meant Kirishima, because no one else was that fucking stupid.
A wolf-whistle promptly accompanied this, which Bakugou also knew to be Kaminari. Not a single fucking night out on the town went by when he didn’t do that at least eight goddamn times.
Bakugou Katsuki was suffering.
He broke away from Todoroki with an aggravated sigh. “Look, can we maybe take this somewhere else?”
Todoroki leveled him with a look of genuine confusion.
“We’re in the middle of the dance floor,” Bakugou added, in a tone that implied this should be blatantly obvious.
Todoroki blinked, looking around them as if noticing the room for the first time. “Oh. So we are,” he said, sounding unsure of what to do next.
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m feeling fucking generous, alright? If you want to get off, I’d be willing to help you accomplish that goal. That’s not something I offer people very often, by the way. So either take it or leave it and stop wasting my time.”
“But not here?” Todoroki asked.
“Obviously not, asshole. We’re in the middle of a public fucking room right now. I don’t feel like getting arrested today.”
The wolf whistling continued, broken here and there by the most obnoxious laughter Bakugou had ever heard in his life. God he hated Kaminari sometimes.
Todoroki was looking over in the direction of the noise as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “Friends of yours?”
“Friends my ass,” Bakugou bit, shooting them a glare and flipping them all off, which only caused them to start cheering.
A moment later, he heard Ochako give a pleased shriek as well, and Bakugou sighed the sigh of the deeply aggrieved.
He was suffering, dammit.
“Are you… embarrassed?” Todoroki asked, slowly pulling Bakugou closer again.
Bakugou grabbed one of his wrists tight enough to hurt, glaring at him in and watching as the light played off his unfairly attractive hair. “I’m not fucking embarrassed, dickwad, I’m just—“
“Then how about we go over to that corner of the room there in the dark and you can make good on that offer?” Todoroki replied reasonably. He could have been suggesting they take a nice stroll in the park on a sunny afternoon if it weren’t for the fact that he spoke against the shell of Bakugou’s ear, his teeth grazing the skin there suggestively.
Bakugou felt like he’d been out-maneuvered somehow. As much as Todoroki appeared innocent, he had a suspicion the way this conversation had gone was entirely in Todoroki’s favor.
Was Bakugou willing to give up his dignity in a crowded club, in plain view of his friends, in order to get with a random hot guy he’d just met an hour ago?
He felt like the answer to that question should have been a no, but found it was in fact an emphatic yes.
Jesus christ, he hated literally everything.
“Why do I fucking put up with this shit, for fucks sake,” he hissed, grabbing Todoroki firmly by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him off the dance floor in the direction of the aforementioned dark corner with no small amount of shame.
His determination to get laid was far greater, sadly.
Once they’d pushed their way through the crowd, Bakugou shoved Todoroki up against the wall. He looked a lot more like he meant to fight him than continue where they left off, truth be told.
Todoroki didn’t look put off in the slightest, damn him.
“You’d better make this worth my while,” Bakugou said in a low voice.
Todoroki titled his head, his hair falling across his eyes in a way that had to be calculated. No one was that fucking attractive on accident. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?” he asked.
Bakugou opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly rude because he had plenty of reason to think this asshole wouldn’t exactly be cooperative by this point, but before he got the chance to get in a word edgewise, Todoroki reached out to grab him by the waist, pulling Bakugou closer with a tenderness that shocked him into silence.
Heat crept up his neck, his eyes wide with surprise. He was honestly more embarrassed by this than he was by what they’d been doing on the dancefloor earlier. People just weren’t affectionate with Bakugou—at least, not like this. Bakugou didn’t even know how to feel, let alone respond.
Todoroki took advantage of his compliance, breaching the space between them to give Bakugou a kiss that was chaste and sweet and what the fuck, this was not what Bakugou signed up for. He signed up for passionate and rough, not tender and gentle.
His heart clenched painfully in his chest, but for some reason he didn’t pull away.
He was too drunk, probably. That was the only logical explanation.
Two strong hands made their way slowly up his sides, slipping beneath his arms to wrap around him, Todoroki’s arms caging him in a warm embrace that was almost reverent.
Bakugou felt dizzy, Todoroki’s mouth moving against his own languidly, as if they had all the time in the world for what they were doing, as if Bakugou was worth taking his time with in the first place.
He had no idea how to respond to this. None. Part of him wanted to be angry and pissed off, because this was not going at all how he had expected it to. Most of him was left reeling, too distracted to be properly mad, feeling weak to this kind of affection in a way that shocked him to his core.
He didn’t like the implication that he was more susceptible to emotional affection than he was to physical affection. It made him feel like he had a weakness he hadn’t even known about.
Bakugou’s hands gripped onto Todoroki’s shoulders like a lifeline as Todoroki sighed against his mouth, something about the softness of the sound making the hairs on the back of Bakugou’s neck stand on end. Jesus, how in the hell was he turned on by this?
But he was. Bakugou was so hard he was borderline desperate at that point.
Todoroki was the one with his back against the wall, and yet Bakugou felt like he was the one who had been thoroughly pinned in place.
“Why are you—why are you being so fucking—“ Bakugou started, annoyed at his voice for sounding so hoarse when they hadn’t even done anything yet, fuck.
Todoroki sealed his mouth over Bakugou’s again, stopping him from finishing his question. He pulled back after a moment to look him in the eye. “So. About that promise,” he prompted.
This felt somewhat more familiar. “I didn’t promise anything, asshole,” Bakugou said, horrified with himself when he didn’t manage his usual bite. He sounded too goddamn kind, and what the fuck? Bakugou was a lot of things, but gentle had definitely never been one of them.
Todoroki hummed, his hands sliding lower to cup at Bakugou’s ass through his jeans. Bakugou took the hint, grinding against him, tilting his head back to watch the lights play off of Todoroki’s hair, his eyes gleaming in the dark with something dangerously close to fondness.
“You’re too fucking pretty,” Bakugou blurted, because this was Drunk Bakugou, and he couldn’t really keep his mouth shut at the best of times anyway. Drunk Bakugou was just unfailingly honest, if still somewhat abrasive.
Todoroki’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open slightly. Bakugou saw his mouth move but couldn’t hear the “what” over the sound of the music. Still, he knew what he’d asked.
“I said, you’re too fucking pretty, ok?” Bakugou repeated, louder this time. “Everything about you is too goddamn attractive, what the fuck. It’s like you were made to hit all my weak points. Broad shoulders, pretty eyes, gorgeous hair, blah blah blah. It’s unfair.”
Todoroki’s face flushed a very, very interesting shade of red, Bakugou noted. He also pulled Bakugou down to grind against him more fully, looking almost as lost as Bakugou felt.
Well. Alright then. If that evened the playing field, Bakugou could work with that.
“What, you didn’t know?” Bakugou asked, his hands skating up higher to tangle loosely in Todoroki’s hair. “Or do you like hearing me tell you how good you look?”
Todoroki made a choked off noise, his eyes falling shut as his head fell back against the wall, hips straining forward against Bakugou’s, and Bakugou knew he had his answer.
He let his head fall forward, mouthing at the side of Todoroki’s neck. “You do like it,” Bakugou said aloud, but his tone wasn’t mocking for once. “Like hearing how good you are.”
Todoroki whined, his hips rolling against Bakugou’s, his hands tracing Bakugou’s lower back with distracted sweetness and fuck there was something about it that was driving Bakugou wild.
Could tenderness even be a kink? Bakugou wasn’t sure, but it definitely applied to him.
He ground down against Todoroki, feeling how hard he was, wondering if he could make Todoroki come like this. Wondering if he himself could come like this.
When Todoroki’s hands dipped beneath the hem of his jeans, fingers teasing against his skin in that slow and methodical way that Todoroki seemed to have, Bakugou was pretty certain he would come like this in fairly short order.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Bakugou babbled, his filter completely gone. “Love the way you touch me, shit,” he cursed, biting down against Todoroki’s neck suddenly.
Todoroki moaned, long and loud. If there wasn’t so much background noise, Bakugou would’ve been concerned other people might have heard. He wondered if anyone noticed what they were doing. Wondered if anyone was staring.
He realized he didn’t give a single fuck either way.
One of Todoroki’s hands was suddenly under his shirt, stretching open-palmed between Bakugou’s shoulders along the curve of his spine, pressing him up and into Todoroki with a sort of gentle firmness that made him feel like he was being fucking held in some kind of loving embrace—
Bakugou threw his head back, eyes flying wide to lock with Todoroki’s just long enough to see how fucking lost he looked.
And then they were a mess of lips and tongue, Bakugou not even sure who had initiated the kiss again but frankly not giving a shit either way.
Todoroki’s tongue moved against his own in a way that made Bakugou forget about things like air and breathing altogether, convinced he could live off of nothing but the wet glide of his mouth against his own. Todoroki kissed like he did everything else, slow and precise and far, far too fucking sweet –nothing Bakugou had ever experienced was even close to this, fuck, fuck—and his hands never once stopped working affectionate touches into every inch of Bakugou’s skin they could find.
Bakugou fisted both of his hands in Todoroki’s hair, desperation turning the roll of his hips erratic, his breath coming to him in gasps. He was mumbling complete and utter nonsense against Todoroki’s mouth between kisses, somehow unable to stop the litany of praise that just kept coming out of him like it was in endless supply. Todoroki trembled against him at every word, falling apart piece by piece, and Bakugou couldn’t get enough of it, never wanted it to stop, never wanted this feeling to end—
Todoroki’s right hand came to cup the side of Bakugou’s face lovingly as he kissed him for all he was worth, and Bakugou lost it, coming with a broken moan, Todoroki’s name on his lips as his vision flashed white.
Todoroki held him through it, swallowing up the sounds he made like a drowning man searching out air.
When Bakugou finally opened his eyes, he pulled back to look Todoroki in the face. Todoroki was the picture of thoroughly debauched, his hair an absolute mess, lips swollen and red, color riding high on his face.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Bakugou whispered, unable to look away.
Todoroki’s eyes widened, grinding hard into Bakugou, his head falling back on a silent scream as he came apart, shaking in Bakugou’s arms.
Bakugou had never seen anything more beautiful.
Todoroki nearly collapsed beneath him once he finished, Bakugou somehow managing to hold him up despite that he felt like his own legs were about to give out. He leaned heavily against Todoroki, letting his head fall into the crook of his shoulder as they both gasped for air, willing their heartbeats to slow down again.
Bakugou felt like he wanted to say something. Something like “that was the best fuck of my life and we didn’t even get naked, can we do it again but maybe without clothes?” but he couldn’t manage the words.
“Please come on a date with me,” Todoroki suddenly said, and Bakugou jolted against him, suddenly wide-fucking-awake.
He pulled back to look at Todoroki fully, shocked and convinced he’d misheard. “The fuck?”
“Come on a date with me,” Todoroki repeated. “After tonight. Please.”
Bakugou’s heart sped right the fuck back up, which was entirely counterproductive in his opinion.
“I—why?” was all he could manage, still stuck on the fact that anyone would want to go on a date with him. He knew he was hot as all hell, sure, but his personality tended to put people off after more than one conversation.
“I know you,” Todoroki replied. “You go to U.A. You’re an explosives engineering major. I’m in thermonuclear engineering. We don’t have any classes together, but I’ve seen you around a lot,” he confessed.
Bakugou was absolutely stunned into silence.
“I’ve wanted to date you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”
“You knew who I was.” Bakugou couldn’t get over this fact.
“Yeah. I, um. My friend, Midoriya. He agreed to play wingman so I could try and dance with you. But this went a lot better than I expected it to.”
What the fuck. There was no fucking way.
“A lot better, actually,” he said, a smile in his voice before turning unsure. “Unless you didn’t enjoy…?”
Bakugou shot him a glare. “I fucking enjoyed it, asshole. Best fuck of my life, ok? I’m just—“ Overwhelmed? Shocked? You’re too good to be true? “—I’m thinking, alright. Christ. Give me a minute here.”
Todoroki swallowed but nodded, waiting patiently.
Bakugou wanted to argue. Wanted to ask if Todoroki was really sure about what he was getting himself into here, because if he really knew Bakugou, surely he wouldn’t want to date him at all.
Then Bakugou promptly realized how fucking stupid it was to try and convince the guy he wanted to keep around that he wasn’t worth keeping around in the first place. He groaned at his own bullshit, shaking his head.
Todoroki could make his own fucking decisions. He was a goddamn adult, and Bakugou wasn’t stupid enough to turn a chance like this down.
“You know what? I am not drunk enough for this right now,” he said, finger jabbing Todoroki in the chest. “You are gonna buy me a drink. And then you’re gonna to tell me about yourself because I’m kind of fucking weirded out that you know me but I know fuck-all about you. And then I will give you my phone number, and we can maybe like… I don’t know. Get coffee or something, I guess.”
Todoroki’s face split into a smile, his eyes catching the light in a way Bakugou instinctively tried to memorize. “I think I can agree to that.”
Bakugou grinned in return, though it was more teeth than anything else. He grabbed Todoroki by the hand, pulling him toward the bar. “Good. Because I’m picking the most expensive thing they have, just so you know.”
He heard Todoroki huff a quiet laugh behind him.
He had no idea how things had turned out like this, but Bakugou wasn’t about to complain.
“So he’s been trying to get with Bakugou for months?” Ochako asked, holding Midoriya’s hand and bouncing excitedly.
He nodded, eyes wide and gleaming. “Yes! I couldn’t believe it when we saw you two dancing, like wow, what luck, huh?”
“And you agreed to be wingman so he could have his chance?” Ochako asked, giggling, her grin growing even wider.
Midoriya nodded. “Of course! I mean you’re very pretty and I would be lucky if you ever even considered me attractive to be honest, but there’s no way I wouldn’t at least try to help my friend out even if it meant making a fool of myself in front of you as a result, but then you agreed to dance with me right away and it was like WOW how I am so lucky right now? I didn’t even have to sacrifice my pride, you just came right over to me and started talking and—“
Ochako leaned over, planting a kiss firmly on his mouth and halting his monologue instantly. “Yep! What luck, huh. So would you actually want to sleep with me, or?”
Midoriya’s face turned a violent shade of red, which looked even more interesting when contrasted with his green hair. “M-me? You’d really want to?”
“I most certainly would!” Ochako announced, smiling beatifically and not at all like she was propositioning someone for a one night stand.
Midoriya looked like he might burst into tears of joy. “I—I have a car? I could drive us back to my place, if you, uh. If you’re ok with that?”
She linked her arm in his, giving a squeeze. “Lead the way!”
They made their way towards the exit, passing by a table where Bakugou and Todoroki were currently sat, looking deep in conversation.
“I’m just saying, Aizawa’s classes are a fucking nightmare. You should be lucky thermonuclear engineers don’t have to put up with this shit. They don’t call him fucking Eraserhead for nothing, alright. He’s horrible when it comes to grading.”
Todoroki looked like he was trying not to laugh, nodding along and listening avidly.
“Bakugouuuu!” Ochako sang, pausing beside the table to give him a big kiss on the cheek. “I’m going home with Midoriya, so don’t worry about giving me a ride back, ok?”
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “I kind of figured, angel face. Congratulations. Wait, where the fuck are Kirishima and Kaminari?”
“Oh, they went home a while ago and caught an Uber. They got thrown out.”
“The fuck? How?”
“Well, remember how Kaminari kept talking about wanting to do body shots? And you know how Kirishima kept mysteriously having less and less clothing throughout the night?”
“For fucks sake,” Bakugou cursed, rubbing his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yeah. But they’re fine now! They texted me when they got home, so no need to worry.”
“Alright, well be careful driving home and shit,” Bakugou mumbled before rounding on Midoriya suddenly. “And you.”
Midoriya froze, looking mildly terrified. “Um, y-yes?”
“You’re in charge of preserving her dignity now, alright?”
Midoriya tilted his head slightly to one side. “Oh, no. That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Hah?” Bakugou asked, squinting. “And why the fuck not?”
“I plan to wreck her, you see.”
Beside him, Ochako squealed delightedly.
Bakugou blinked, eyes wide and mouth falling open.
Todoroki snorted into his drink, hiding his face from view.
“Ok, we’re going now! Bye, Bakugouuu! It was nice meeting you Todoroki!” Ochakok sang, pulling Midoriya towards the door with increasing impatience.
Bakugou watched them leave, awe-struck.
“What the fuck kind of night even is this,” he wondered aloud.
Bakugou Katsuki was still suffering, dammit.
“The best?” Todoroki replied, smiling.
But only slightly.