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Teenage Rebellion

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“Has anyone seen Midoriya?”

Bakugou doesn’t even look up from where he’s absolutely slaughtering his stupid friends at Mario Kart. Kaminari is all but yelling at the TV, and Kirishima’s smiling good-naturedly but Bakugou can sense the crushing defeat rolling off of him in waves as they enter the third lap and the music picks up. Kirishima and Kaminari are in second and third place respectively so the chances of them getting a blue shell are low and Bakugou’s victory is all but assured.

He’s just the best in abso-fucking-lutely everything and these losers deserve their defeat for challenging him to a contest of skills.

“Nah, man, what’s up?” Kirishima is genuinely concerned about why Satou has just come into the room uncharacteristically looking for Midoriya, not enough to stop playing Mario Kart and trying to beat Bakugou just once, but enough to at least answer the question. And that is why he is always going to lose, you have to keep your eye on the prize, motherfuckers. No distractions.

“Todoroki’s been in the bathroom for like two hours, and I think I heard him yelling on the phone before. I figured I should find Midoriya, you know?” He pauses, watching their game for a minute. “Hearing Todoroki yell was weird, man. I’m not going in there.”

Kirishima cuts his eyes from the TV to Satou’s face. “I’ll text him and the others and see if we can find him, okay?”

Fucking soft. Kaminari zips past him, but he’s nowhere near close enough to catch Bakugou, who nets an easy victory.

“Bow down losers!” His fist pump and taunting are slightly half-hearted. Kirishima’s texting furiously on his phone and Satou’s mouth is twisted into a concerned frown. Even Kaminari looks a little worried.

Jesus Christ.

“If you idiots aren’t going to take this seriously, I’m out. The walking thermometer is a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

“See you later, Bakugou!” Kirishima calls distractedly over one shoulder, still typing away on his phone as Bakugou disappears down the hall towards the elevator.

Kaminari waits until he’s sure Bakugou is out of earshot. “You still texting Midoriya?”

Kirishima snorts. “I was never texting Midoriya.”

Satou frowns and his eyebrows knit together. “Please take this seriously, I think something’s really wrong. I thought you were going to help, if you aren’t I’ll go find him myself.”

Kaminari offers him the controller Bakugou had been using. “Chill out, man, Blasty’s got it.”

He shares a meaningful look with Kirishima and they try to stifle their giggles as they queue up for another match.

Satou isn’t 100% sure how adding Bakugou to the current Todoroki situation is going to do anything but make things indescribably worse, but whatever. Mario Kart is a ton of fun.


He runs into Sero walking down the hall towards the bathroom. “Be careful, dude, he sounded really pissed.”

“I can handle fucking Strawberry Shortcake.”

Sero grins and lightly jogs until he’s out of blasting-range. “You know, I’ve heard that about you!”

By the time Bakugou whips around to murder him, Sero’s already gone, taking the stairs two at a time. His instinct to murder and his weird need to go check on his not-boyfriend war for a moment, and shockingly, nurture wins out. He’s going to have to punch something later to stop feeling so damn soft.

He doesn’t bother knocking, just shoves the door open a little more forcefully that is strictly necessary, judging by the way it slams against the wall. At least Todoroki will know who it is. He makes his way past the toilet and shower stalls to the small bathtub at the back and leans casually against the wall.

Todoroki doesn’t look up, he’s kneeling on a towel with his head over the tub, rubbing something that Bakugou suspects is bleach into the red half of his hair. Idiot isn’t even wearing gloves and his shirt is ruined from where the bleach has dripped onto it.

“You’re a fucking drama queen.”

“It’s called,” he grits his teeth, “teenage rebellion.”

Bakugou doesn’t bother hiding his grin, Todoroki’s not looking at him anyway, and steps up behind him, fishing the plastic gloves out of the little box. He swats Todoroki’s hands away from his hair and carefully and methodically works the bleach evenly down to his roots. Todoroki sighs and rinses his hands under the bathtub tap before using the right one to prop his chin up.

“How did you even know I was in here?”

“I have a radar for whenever you do anything stupid. It goes off a lot.”

“Oh, ha-ha. You’re so witty.” He's pouting and Bakugou has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He tilts Todoroki’s head to the side for a better angle.

“Not gonna ask how I know how to do this?” He regularly helps Kirishima with his hair. There’s just something weirdly relaxing about methodically stripping the color and reapplying that he would never admit to enjoying, but secretly does.

Todoroki just sighs. “I’m kind of just starting to assume you innately know how to do everything. Except refrain from using profanity.” His lips purse back up into a pout that Bakugou refuses to acknowledge as adorable. “You’re a good son.”

There it is. Bakugou hums lightly. “Bet your ass I’m good at everything. ‘S why I’m gonna be number one.” He nudges Todoroki lightly with his knee. “If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll let you be number two.”

“How uncharacteristically generous of you.” He monotones, but his lips quirk up the slightest bit. He tips his head back as much as he can without messing up Bakugou’s angle, but far enough he can look him in the eye and give him a shy smile. “Thanks for helping.”

Bakugou’s traitorous heart pounds too-fast and he pointedly looks away. ‘Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it. They just couldn’t find Deku.”

“Too late, I’m already used to it.” Todoroki quips back as he turns his head and resettles it on his hand to give Bakugou a better angle. Bakugou feels his chest swell the tiniest bit. Damn right you better get used to it. Your ass is mine now. Fuck Deku.

“Alright, take your shirt off and lean forward so I can rinse you.” He pulls the plastic gloves off his hands and wraps them so that the bleach residue is safely contained.

“It’s already ruined, I may as well leave it on.” Something in his voice is just the tiniest bit off and Bakugou does his level best not to over-analyze what it could mean. But, god, he wants to.

“Noticed that, did you?” He snarks to distract himself.

“I didn’t want the bleach to get on my skin.”

“You can’t get any paler, Snow White.”

“Snow White? That’s not a mean thing to call someone, you’re getting soft.”

“Licked Candy Cane sounded too suggestive.”

Todoroki’s eyebrows shoot up and he turns his head to face Bakugou, the slightest tint of red on his cheeks that is definitely not mirrored on Bakugou’s. No sir. Definitely not.

“Just take off your fucking shirt, Frosty the Snow-Moron.”

There’s the smallest pause before Todoroki’s lips slowly spread out into a smile and he honest to god laughs, and holy hell, that’s a sound that is burned into Bakugou’s chest. His cheeks burn, but Todoroki isn’t showing signs of stopping, delicately pressing his knuckles against his lips. Bakugou huffs and grabs the hem of Todoroki’s tee shirt and roughly yanks it over his head, smearing more bleach into it if the way Todoroki’s freshly bleached hair stands straight up from the contact is anything to go by.

Bakugou suppresses a laugh of his own and corrals Todoroki’s head back over the edge of the tub, flicks the tap, and works the water through his hair with the same meticulous care he does everything else. Todoroki stops laughing, but his shoulders shake a little occasionally, and oh god those are nice shoulders he really should have let him keep his shirt on, this is really distracting. Bakugou’s just noticing how low Todoroki’s dark sweatpants are sitting on his hips, barely obstructing the long, smooth planes of his very muscular back. He’s got very little scarring, but there are a few puckered lines Bakugou wouldn’t mind running his fingers over. Or, you know, his tongue. Whichever.

He rests on knee on the ground to give his tired legs a break from squatting, and steadies himself with a hand on Todoroki’s left shoulder. It’s warm. Bakugou shakes his head the barest bit, of course his damn shoulder is warm, pleasantly so, Todoroki’s packing the power of a damn volcano in there.

The right side is cooler, right? He can’t think of a smooth and excusable reason to slide his hand over those broad shoulders and find out, but resolves to in the future. Back and front. Maybe a little lower than his shoulders.

He forcefully clears his throat and tries to focus on working the water and shampoo through Todoroki’s hair and not the slightly suggestive position they’re in as he leans across Todoroki to do it. Todoroki closes his eyes and hums a little from the feel of Bakugou’s strong fingers working at his scalp. Teenage rebellion was a great plan.

“Alright.” Bakugou’s finally satisfied that all the bleach is out. He grabs one of the towels and settles on the edge of the tub with his legs spread. Todoroki takes the hint without having to be told, thank god, because Bakugou’s pretty sure his heart couldn’t handle saying the actual words, and sits with his back towards Bakugou, head within toweling range.

Neither one of them mentions that it would have been much more time-effective for Todoroki to just use his quirk. They’ve always needed a reason for closeness and this is too good to pass up. He works Todoroki’s hair until its damp and cracks open the box of toner, donning gloves, and trying to ignore the way Todoroki’s leaning back against his leg, a solid, content weight.

He swallows hard, grateful Todoroki’s eyes are closed. He’s not even sure how long he’s wanted this, but it’s been a long ass time.

He takes an extra second to indulge before starting to work the toner through Todoroki’s hair. And if he spends a little extra time rubbing his scalp or stroking his soon-to-be-white locks, then Todoroki sure as hell isn’t going to tell anyone. Bakugou high-key wants to murder Endeavour a little more every day, but he can’t deny that the man gave him this. Shouto being sad sucks, but Bakugou doesn’t mind picking up the pieces.

“He’s a piece of shit, you know. Whatever the fuck he said, it was a goddamn lie and he said it to fucking hurt you.” He sucks air through his teeth. He’s not good with this mushy stuff, but for Shouto… “You’re a good fucking person, Shouto. You’re going to be a great number two hero.”

Shouto stiffens a little, breath visibly catching in his chest, before turning his head to look up at him, smiling- and oh look now Bakugou’s heart AND his dick are traitors. “Thanks, Katsuki.” He waits for a beat. “But I’m definitely going to be number one, you can be my cute number two.”

“Look here, you snowball fuck!”


Todoroki is better than he should be at Mario Kart, and it really pisses Bakugou off, but he’s feeling extra charitable today.

“Thanks for lending me your shirt, Bakugou.”

Bakugou’s possessive nature is crowing with pride that Todoroki’s in his shirt, but he’s also half dying of laughter because in huge white letting across the dark black of the tee shirt is “Fuck you Dad”

And if anyone thinks that Bakugou hasn’t already sent photos to Endeavour they’d be wrong.

“Keep the hairstyle and I’ll give it to you.” He manages through barely suppressed laughter.

Kaminari and Kirishima give him knowing looks from their seat on the ground in front of the couch, and he just smirks in return.

“This isn’t really what I thought you meant when you said Bakugou would handle it.” Satou mutters, still playing Mario Kart with them four hours later.

Todoroki quirks his lips up in a smile that is rapidly making Bakugou weak in the knees, but he just rolls his eyes and drops his hand on Todorok’s completely snow-white hair. And if Todoroki stoops a little so Bakugou can reach and leans in a little closer then no one has to know.