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sticky note crushes

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Katsuki hates his roommate. The green-haired, freckled, artsy son of a bitch with his dumb pun t-shirts and paint-stained hands he can’t fucking keep to himself. Katsuki can’t leave a single assignment or paper out in his room because that idiot will just grab anything to draw on it. He’s like a shark that can’t stop swimming else it’ll die – he can’t stop drawing. Ever.

And sometimes he does it in pen. Right in the margins of the essay Katsuki left on his own desk to flip through and edit later. Eyes or noses or hands on his paper on Virginia Woolf, doodles of talking dogs on his Animal Farm essay, a gesture drawing on the back of a printout, and every time Katsuki sees them he wants to punch a hole in a wall because the worst thing of all is that they’re good. The annoying little shit has talent, and it’s driving Katsuki insane.

Especially when he draws hands. The loser is obsessed with damn hands to the point of a damn fetish if Katsuki was thinking in that direction, but fuck him if they aren’t impressive – and he’s not impressed by much. Katsuki doesn’t know a lot about art, but something about his roommate’s hands are…expressive. How the fuck a hand can be expressive, he doesn’t know, but they just are.

The current predicament is not another hand, but a long Japanese dragon slithering its way through the second page of the first draft of the paper Katsuki just printed out that morning to turn in for his least favorite part of class, peer feedback. This time, the drawing is in color instead of normal grayscale pencil or flat ballpoint pen black, lightly drawn pinks, yellows, and greens giving the dragon an almost shimmering, rainbow effect like it’s been refracted through a diamond. The body curls through the margins of the page, sometimes disappearing off the edge then returning.

Katsuki stares down at the drawing. “I’m going to murder him.”

Mina and Kirishima glance over at him from the other side of the table where they’re getting some studying done in between classes. “Who, your classmate?” Mina asks, referring to whatever idiot got assigned Katsuki’s work to give feedback on – said classmate made a note by the drawing that just says ‘wow!’ as if Katsuki’s scribbling all over his own homework.

“No,” Katsuki growls, “Deku.”

“Oh, your artsy roommate!” Kirishima says, grinning, “What did he do this time?”

“This,” Katsuki answers, flipping his paper around to show them the dragon. Their eyes widen and Mina pulls the paper closer to her.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing!” she gasps, like Katsuki hadn’t fucking noticed. Yeah, it’s amazing, that’s part of the fucking problem.

“He’s an art student, right?” Kirishima asks.

“He’s fucking annoying is what he is,” Katsuki grumbles, snatching his paper back from his friends and glaring at the dragon.

“Well, I want to meet him,” Mina smiles, “see what’s got dear ‘ol Bakugou all hot and bothered.”

Katsuki freezes, halfway to flipping to the next page of his essay. “What,” he snaps, looking back up to glare at Mina, “the fuck.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Mina shrugs, taking a long sip of her iced coffee through her straw, “you never throw the drawings away.”

“You don’t know that,” Katsuki protests, but she’s right. He always just ends up leaving them where they are or shoving them in his desk drawer.

And,” Mina continues, raising an eyebrow like she’s readying for a ‘gotcha moment’, “your pupils dilate when you talk about him. And you blush.” Kirishima poorly hides his snort of laughter, and Katsuki grips the pen in his hand so tightly it might snap.

“What the hell?” he splutters, “How the fuck would you-why would you even look for that shit?” Katsuki decides to ignore that that is his main complaint about her statement, not the implications that he’s got a thing for the annoying ass, talented, cute shitty nerd he lives with. Because, yeah, maybe he’s got pretty green eyes, or his wild curls sometimes seem like they’re begging to have a hand run through them, or his stupid freckles stick around in Katsuki’s head for a little too long after he sees them. Not like he’s in love or some shit. The nerd’s cute face is probably the only thing besides his talent keeping Katsuki from murdering him.

“I know these things, Bakugou,” Mina says, with that feral grin she gets whenever romance or matchmaking makes an appearance – but that is not happening here.

“I’m not interested in a fucking Deku,” Katsuki snaps, trying to turn back to his work but knowing that Mina might as well be a hunting dog who’s caught scent of a deer nearby. She’s not letting this shit go.

“But do you think he’s cute?” she sing-songs, leaning over the table towards him.

Katsuki groans at her and continues to read through the marks on his paper. “So what if I do,” he snaps, “he’s just some guy.”

“You do!” Mina squeals. Dammit, Katsuki should’ve know better and kept his mouth shut. Now she’s really not letting this go. “Now I really gotta meet him! I’m coming to your room later.”

“Me too,” Kirishima grins.

“No you fucking are not,” Katsuki snaps threateningly, but he’s known these two idiots long enough to know his threatening aura does not deter them in the slightest. In fact, it usually only serves to egg them on.

“What was your room number again? 890?” Kirishima muses, undeterred. Mina rubs her hands together like a damn raccoon. Fuck this and fuck them.

“Go fuck yourselves.”

 

Katsuki’s evening class lets out almost a half an hour late because his damn professor droned on for a whole hour about the hidden innuendos of Kayama Nemuri’s writing – yeah, right, they’re about as hidden as Shakespeare plays and 50 fucking Shades of Grey. Sometimes Katsuki swears teachers at this school just don’t know what the hell they’re even doing, and he knows he could teach the classes better if given the chance.

Anyways, he’s tired as hell when he swings open the door to his dorm room, and far too tired to find damn Deku sitting on the floor in the middle of what looks like the destructive powers of a rainbow papier mache bomb. Which is to say there’s colorful fucking paper everywhere. It should be illegal to room art students with anything but their own kind.

“Deku-”

“WAH-” Deku whirls around, bright green eyes blown wide like he’s some googly-eyed cartoon character, “-cchan!” He lets out a phew, placing his hand over his chest like Katsuki just jumped out at him in a haunted house instead of literally walking into the room he also lives in. “Kacchan, you scared me!”

“You’re skittish as hell, then,” Katsuki says, trying to ignore the way his heart flutters at that stupid nickname Deku insisted on giving him as a rebuke to ‘Deku’. Katsuki didn’t understand how insults = pet names, but he might’ve preferred an insult to hearing ‘Kacchan!’ chirped at him all day long. “What the hell did you do to my room?”

Our room, Kacchan,” Deku hums like a song, turning back to whatever he was doing on the floor, “and I’m doing art!”

“Right, art,” Katsuki grumbles, closing the door behind him and stepping around a posterboard covered in sketches of more fucking hands. He doesn’t know why he tries, it’s not like Deku pays that much respect to Katsuki’s shit. “Speaking of your ‘art’, you realize you’re supposed to draw in sketchbooks or some shit, right?’ he says, making his way through the room until he’s right behind Deku and drops his paper to the ground in front of him, open to the dragon, “And not my fucking homework?”

“Oh!” Deku chirps, grabbing the papers, “I remember this!” He tilts his head back to look up at Katsuki, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes only to have it fall right back into place. “What do you think?”

Katsuki glares down at his stupid vibrant eyes and charming smile and gets dangerously close to complimenting him. “I think you could’ve drawn it on your own fucking paper,” is what he settles on.

Deku at least has the manners to look a bit ashamed. “Ah, yeah, okay. Sorry, I just draw on whatever I find!”

“I fucking noticed,” Katsuki grumbles, tossing his bag onto his desk chair then sitting on his bed, the one place that’s safe from the paper bomb, and pulling his feet up to a criss-crossed position. “Pretty sure my classmates think I’m some fuckin’ art prodigy at this point.”

Deku blinks at him with his dumb bambi-eyes. “You think I’m an art prodigy?”

Katsuki’s brain is momentarily a Windows Error Code sound effect as he tries to think what the hell gave him that idea, then what he just said echoes in his head again. Oh, fuck. “Whatever,” he says, averting his eyes from Deku’s face to avoid letting anymore compliments slip. “I don’t give a shit about your hand obsession as long as you keep it off my damn essays.”

Deku giggles and Katsuki’s eyes snap back to his face without a conscious decision made. Fuck. “My hand obsession?” he snickers.

“Yeah, you…” Katsuki trails off for a second and coughs in the back of his throat, “uh, you draw hands on everything.” Deku snickers again and Katsuki’s defensive instincts kick in, not because Deku’s laughing at him but because he likes Deku’s laugh and he doesn’t want to. “Weirdo,” he tacks on to the end of his previous statement, then mentally curses himself for fucking falling apart because some cute guy is laughing. What the hell.

“I didn’t think I did it that much,” Deku says, smiling, “but I do really like drawing them, so I’m not surprised.”

Katsuki, who’s rarely interested in anyone outside of himself, for some reason asks, “Why?”

Deku stares at him for a second, seemingly surprised by the question, then he smiles and Katsuki resists the urge to slam his own head into the wall, yell at Deku, or doing literally any of the other stupid ideas that pop into his head at the sight of a thoroughly genuine, soft smile from Deku. “No one’s really asked that before.”

Katsuki just grunts in response and lays back on his bed so he doesn’t have to look at stupid Deku anymore.

“I guess I like because of how much emotion they can convey,” Deku says, “like faces but less obvious. I think the smallest parts of people can sometimes speak the loudest about them.”

Katsuki’s got no fucking idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Deku doesn’t seem to mind.

 

The next morning, Katsuki opens his laptop at the beginning of a class to find a small green sticky note on his keyboard, ‘hi kacchan!’ scribbled in some of the worst handwriting he’s ever seen above a doodle of a rabbit with a flower in its mouth. What the hell, Deku.

This was different than the random drawings on his assignments. This was on purpose, and Deku snuck it into his damn computer at some point. How the hell is he supposed to feel about that?

Well, he knows how he doesn’t want to feel about it, and it’s how he’s feeling right now, but despite the fact that the best course of action would be to crumple the note up and throw it in the trash, Katsuki finds himself sticking it to the corner of his laptop screen and going about the rest of class as usual.

 

The next note is on an assignment, specifically a copy of a Jane Austen book he printed out to annotate. Deku got ahold of it somehow and sketched another realistic rabbit, this time in a period-accurate suit, holding a paw out and asking him for a dance. Katsuki wrote ‘not with that thing’ below the drawing and left it out for Deku to find. He added a frowny face, then made sure to leave a sketch of two rabbits dancing on Katsuki’s desk.

Deku seems to take Katsuki’s response, however negative, as an invite to start harassing him with doodle upon doodle. Another rabbit on his notebook, a sticky note dragon on his essay, a sleepy dog slipped into his computer again, and what feels like hundred more, ranging from cartoonish scribbles to full-blown sketches. And, to his own dismay, Katsuki keeps every single one of them. Just right there in his desk drawer, diverted from the trash can at the last second.

 

Things escalate again when, as he’s studying in the library with Kirishima and Mina, for once the three of them actually getting some real work done, something glances off the side of his head and bounces to the table before him. His friends glance up, staring at the small, crumpled ball of paper with confusion, and the fact that they’re in a public library is the only thing that keeps Katsuki from yelling about it.

“What the fuck,” he grumbles quietly instead, but Mina grabs the trash thing before he can throw it back at whatever asshole is littering on his fucking head. And then Mina un-crumples the paper and her eyes go wide.

“Anyone know a Kacchan?” she says, turning the paper around and making Katsuki’s heart skip a beat. Sure as the sky is fucking blue, there’s a ballpoint pen doodle of another damn bunny, this time with a pencil in it’s mouth, and that now-annoyingly-familiar shitty handwriting that reads ‘hey kacchan!’ at the top and ‘I am here!’ at the bottom. A fucking All Might reference – Katsuki had seen the nerd drawing All Might and made the mistake of mentioning that he read the comics too. A mistake because it set him off on far too long of a ramble and added another thing to the growing list of Things Katsuki Actually Likes About This Asshole.

Katsuki reaches across the table to snatch the drawing from Mina’s hand, then whips his head around to search for said asshole. Wild green hair and an unfiltered grin catch his eye, and the second he makes eye contact Deku lifts a hand and waves at him. He’s sitting next to a girl with poofy brown hair and a round face, who’s also looking over at Katsuki like she’s sizing him up.

Katsuki lifts his hand in a half-hearted attempt at a wave back that he abandoned halfway through.

“Wait wait wait,” Mina says, sounding way too excited, “Is that him? Is that our mysterious cute roommate?”

“He calls you Kacchan?”

Katsuki feels his face heat up and inwardly curses himself for it, then turns back around and grabs his pen. “Shut up,” he snaps, writing ‘nerd’ on the paper with an arrow pointing to the All Might reference.

“Oh my god, it totally is,” Mina squeals, “He is cute!”

Katsuki glances up from folding the note into a paper airplane and ignoring how stupid he feels, then twists around in his seat to throw it over the few tables separating him and Deku. He turns around immediately after, wondering why the fuck he just did that but subconsciously knowing the answer.

Deku’s weird snort-giggle laugh can be heard from Katsuki’s seat and he resists the urge to smile and/or slam his head into the table. Then Kirishima gasps, “He’s coming over here!” and he freezes like a fucking dumbass. Deku is what now.

“You call me a nerd,” Deku says, suddenly slapping the drawing down on the table next to Katsuki and leaning over a bit to grin at him, “but you’ve understood every single niche reference I’ve ever made.”

“Doesn’t make me a nerd,” Katsuki responds, resting an arm up on the back of the chair and forcing his expression into one of nonchalance because no this fucking nerdy art kid is not making him flustered.

“Agree to disagree,” Deku says, then turns to Katsuki’s friends, “Hi, by the way! Pardon my manners, I’m Midoriya Izuku!”

“Hi!” Mina chirps, equally cheerful with a slightly predatory look in her eyes, “I’m Ashido Mina.”

“Kirishima Eijirou,” Kirishima says, “We’re Bakugou’s friends. You’re his roommate, right?”

“Yeah, I am!” Deku answers, glancing between Katsuki and his friends, “Has he mentioned me before?”

Kirishima grins. “Sure has.”

“Only because they see the shit you draw all over my stuff,” Katsuki cuts in, attempting to stop whatever the two of them are definitely thinking about right now. “Like on my damn quarter final,” he adds, glaring at Deku.

Deku blinks at him, them crinkles up his eyebrows and nose like he’s thinking back to the multitude of Katsuki assignments he’s drawn all over. Fuck, he’s adorable. His eyes widen in realization. “Oh god, that was your quarter final?”

“Yeah, I had to re-print the first page thanks to your ass,” Katsuki grumbles, not admitting that he probably could’ve erased the drawing but he elected to keep it and replace the page instead.

“Sorry…” Deku says, but Katsuki just waves him off. “Well, I gotta go to class, but it was nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too, dude!” Kirishima says.

“Hope we see you again,” Mina grins.

“Bye Kacchan,” Deku says before he leaves, making a point to slide the paper back in front of Katsuki as he does. He added a tiny All Might doodle next to ‘nerd’. Katsuki suppresses a smirk and folds the paper in to quarters, tossing it in his bag before glancing up to find the idiot duo staring at him with wide eyes and grins.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” he snaps.

“You totally like him,” Mina says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Shut it,” Katsuki scoffs, far past denying that now. He still has the first green sticky note on his laptop screen. He’s in too deep.

 

When Katsuki gets back to his room later that evening, before Deku, he realizes just how fucking deep as he opens his desk drawer to toss in that day’s Deku-doodle. He didn’t even think about throwing it away this time, and he’s faced with so many random things he can’t count them all at once.

Fine, he’s really into Deku. And he’s not some loser who’s going to sit around pining forever, he’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki and he’s going to do something about it.

That something ends up being the cheesiest thing he’s ever done, but he doesn’t chicken out of it out of spite towards himself and the gut feeling that Deku is a cheesy fucking nerd. He writes a fucking mini-essay titled ‘Reasons to Ask Out Deku’s Dumb Ass’ and leaves it on his desk, because it’s somehow his equivalent of the shitty doodles Deku leaves everywhere. The reasons include his eyes, his freckles, his laugh, everything about his personality, and Katsuki ends it off with ‘all the smallest parts about him that speak the loudest’.

Because apparently he’s a fucking sap. Gross.

 

When Katsuki wakes up the next morning, it’s to a happily muttering Deku scribbling away in his sketchbook on the floor and an addition to the front page of his essay: the words ‘reasons to say yes to Kacchan’ with an arrow pointing to a detailed drawing of his face. Katsuki grins.

Deku stops his muttering and clears his throat. “I was thinking coffee?”