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Bakugou didn’t find himself thinking about other people very often.
Why would he? He’s focused on his own shit, his own progress to become number one, there’s no room in his mind for superfluous nonsense involving other people. Sometimes his mom floated her way into his mind, the occasional negative comment she would needle at him while he was home making its way into his thoughts.
The phrase “not good enough” seemed to be a permanent resident in his brain, suspiciously using his mother’s tone of voice, but Bakugou doesn’t dwell on it.
Sometimes his stupid groupies occupied his thoughts. Not often, but sometimes. He’d have a passing thought about needing to spar with Shitty Hair, or about how he had to tutor Sparky and Raccoon Eyes. Small, inconsequential thoughts, not enough to derail his focus from his one and only goal. He couldn’t even bother to remember their names, he told himself.
And there was that tall, tape-armed bastard. Bakugou found himself thinking about that fucker a lot lately. Tape Arms, or whatever. Sero, Bakugou’s mind said, against his will.
This… distraction, if Bakugou was to name it, started, like most of his problems, with the Sports Festival. Bakugou wanted to die just thinking about it. Such a monumental waste of his time, compounded with the myriad of issues he’s now having to deal with because of it. And top of the damn list, just below having “won” the damn thing, is that Sero bastard.
Bakugou made a point not to remember the specifics of the Festival for his own sanity, but his mind seemed to always circle back to the cavalry battle.
It was right after he had launched himself at stupid Deku and his team, in an attempt to get that ten million point headband. That Bird asshat had his stupid shadow demon thing blocked Bakugou, sending him hurling toward the ground. Before Bakugou even had a chance to react, he felt a tight band around his abdomen, pulling him in a linear direction downward.
He felt his back hit something solid, less so than the ground would have been, and realized that someone had caught him from his fall. He looked around, noticing that neither Pinky or Weird Hair had caught him, meaning that—
Bakugou looked to his right, seeing a wide, shit-eating grin, and one of that bastard’s stupid tape elbows up in the air, retracting the rest of his tape. Ah, Bakugou thinks, his tape caught me, huh.
Wait.
Bakugou’s brain, still mildly reeling from adrenaline, catches up to him. If one of his arms is free, then that would mean that he managed to catch Bakugou, and cradle him against his stupidly solid chest, with one arm.
One arm. One… arm.
Oh.
Bakugou felt his face warm, his jaw slightly slack, and Sero’s—Tape Arms, Bakugou reminded himself— stupid grin grew wider at the sight.
“Gotcha, Blasty Boy.” Bakugou tried to school his face into a scowl, but the intended effect was diminished by the bright red blush on his damn face. He could feel Sero’s hand splayed across his back, the heat like a brand against his skin. Fuck this fuck this holy shit.
With a smug smirk still plastered onto his stupid fucking face, and his free arm now under Bakugou’s knees hoisting him in a bridal carry— no, Bakugou’s heart did not skip a beat, fuck you— Sero quickly manuvered Bakugou back onto the cavalry horse without so much as a grunt of exertion.
Bakugou felt himself shudder, before quickly attempting to regain his composure. He tightened his hands on Shitty Hair’s head, yelling at him to get moving. He had a festival to win after all.
The feeling of Sero’s hand, warm against his back, didn’t leave him for the rest of the week.
***
So that’s where it started, this annoying distraction taking up most of Bakugou’s active thoughts. He could be doing literally anything, and he’d remember glimpses of that moment in the festival weeks prior.
Cooking curry, he’d feel a phantom heat against his back. Doing laundry, he’d remember the solid press of Sero’s front against his side. He could be pissing, and somehow that bastard would worm his way into Bakugou’s stream of consciousness. It was stupid, idiotic, and Bakugou couldn’t get that tall fucker out of his head.
And, realistically, it shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it is. He went to a hero school, almost all of them had a physical training regimen. Hell, even Frenchy had to do core workouts on the regular, and Invisi-Bitch had recently picked up martial arts, so Sero being strong shouldn’t even have registered as something abnormal.
But being able to hold up an entire person, especially someone like Bakugou, who wasn’t heavy but still dense with muscle? Just the reminder of that level of physicality made Bakugou’s arm hair rise on end. How the hell did he even get strong, that asshole is hardly ever in the gym!
In an attempt to shake off these idiotic thoughts plauging him, Bakugou dove headfirst into working on his Howitzer during a free training hour. Can’t think about useless shit if he just focuses on the burn in his muscles, the sweat building up on his callouses.
He specifically made sure to avoid whatever Cirque du Soleil bullshit Tape Arms was doing, contorted in all sorts of odd positions that made Bakugou want to punch himself in the face.
Training was one of the few things that made Bakugou’s mind quiet down for once, entirely focused on getting stronger and better than everyone around him. The only other thing being his pet snake, Bam-Bam, which he would rather die than have anyone know about. He blasted rocks and boulders to pieces, feeling the lactic acid and his arms and legs aching from exertion, until the hour ran out.
Taking off his hero costume was ritualistic, letting him ruminate on the things he needed to work on, on whatever badass move he had practiced that day. He never let himself linger on the other people in the locker room, existing in his own small bubble as he stripped off his cargo pants and gauntlets.
It seemed the universe would not be so kind to him today.
Bakugou was almost fully dressed, sans his uniform jacket, making quick work of taking off the eyeliner he used to cover the gaps in his mask. In the middle of wiping down his left eye, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Unused to being interrupted in this way, Bakugou quickly spun around to bark out an insult and a command to not be bothered, before his eyes landed on the most chiseled set of abs he’s ever seen in his life. Whatever insult he had prepared died on the tip of his tongue.
“Yo, eyes up here Blasty.” Bakugou sputtered, before looking up and realizing those abs belonged to fucking Sero. What the fuck.
Sero had a brow raised in confusion, before his expression twisted into that lazy, smug grin he always wore around Bakugou. “Didn’t know you wore eyeliner, Bakugou.”
Bakugou felt his eye twitch. As he was the picture of eloquent speech, he responded with a “hngh”, trying his best not to let his eyes wander back down to Sero’s abdomen. He was unsuccessful. He angrily wiped at his eyes, turning back around to face his locker.
“Just thought I’d let you know, you’re gonna be late to class if you don’t hurry, Bakubro! Might as well leave it on.” Bakugou, now pissed, whipped back around to yell at the tall fucker, as he should have the first time.
“Says the asshole still not wearing a goddamn shirt!” Not an insult, you goddamn moron. Much to Bakugou’s chagrin, Sero had suddenly decided to put a shirt on, making Bakugou feel like an idiot. Bastard. Sero responded with a lazy grin and a wave, before walking out of the room right as the bell rang.
“See ya in class, pretty boy!” Bakugou slammed his locker shut, a shiver going down his spine.
Bakugou was three minutes late to class, eyeliner still rimming his eyes. He tried to convince himself he imagined Sero staring at him as he went to his seat.
***
One of the smaller things Bakugou prided himself on was not getting stupid injuries during combat training. It happens, of course, but not to Bakugou. Dunce Face tended to go stupid after everything, Raccoon Eyes would bruise her shins by sliding into things while riding her acid, but Bakugou didn’t let himself get dumb injuries.
Which is why, when he managed to sprain his fucking ankle during a spar with Sero, he felt he had the right to be angry over it, especially when it was that asshole’s fault.
Okay, well, maybe not entirely. Bakugou and Sero had been paired up for combat training that week, and for the most part it had been smooth sailing. Bakugou refused to allow himself to get distracted by whatever Sero-related thoughts were still bouncing around his head, with his desire to win outweighing any lingering thoughts about Sero’s abs (though there were many).
At first, he found it stupid that Aizawa would pair him with Tape Arms. Bakugou was clearly at an advantage, since Sero almost always had to fight long range. However, after their first two matches ended in a draw, with Sero’s tape having become something akin to a rope dart, Bakugou found himself really wanting to finally beat that bastard into the ground.
So, walking into Ground Beta today, Bakugou was fully prepared to win their match as quickly as possible. What he was not prepared for, however, was for Sero to start playing dirty.
Bakugou was preparing to fire off a few AP shots, trying to blast through Sero’s tape before he had a chance to get caught in it. He was partially mid-air from an earlier blast, preparing to propel himself backward from the kickback of the AP shot, when Sero decided to be more of a bastard than usual.
“I’ve gotcha now, pretty boy!”
For some idiotic, godforsaken reason, the phrase “pretty boy” had taken up residence in Bakugou’s subconcious, the mix of teasing and minor praise tearing Bakugou’s focus away from winning, and back towards Sero, all of the stupid, stupid thoughts related to him forcing their way back to the front of Bakugou’s mind.
In his stupor, Bakugou was mere seconds too late on the AP shots, missing Sero’s tape almost entirely, and the kickback now shooting him toward the ground. Before he could properly react, Sero had shot his tape around Bakugou’s left ankle, his fall changing from downwards to a diagonal angle. As he was pulled closer to the floor, and Sero by extension, Bakugou attempted to dig his foot into the ground to prevent being pulled in, inadvertently getting his foot caught in a minor ditch.
Sero yanked the tape to the side to try and gain more momentum, causing Bakugou’s ankle to sharply twist, making him shout out in pain.
“Fuck!” Sero had finished retracting his tape, and Bakugou, having reached the ground, attempted to get up, putting too much pressure on his injured ankle. He let out a pained grunt. “God… fucking dammit.”
“Shit, Bakugou, are you alright?” Sero jogged over, distress clear in his eyes.
“Fucking… I’m fine, Tape Face. I don’t need your goddamn help.” Sero didn’t buy his answer, kneeling by Bakugou’s side.
“Sure, Blasty. Let me go get Aizawa.” Bakugou wanted to yell at him, but as he tried to stand up again, his ankle flared in pain, causing him to cry out slightly. “Dude, stop trying to stand, you’re making it worse.”
He ran for Aizawa before Bakugou could say “fuck off.”
In his usual fashion, Aizawa blankly told Bakugou to head to Recovery Girl to deal with his ankle, and had Sero go with him, much to Bakugou’s dismay, since Sero was partially at fault for his injury. Aizawa did chastise Bakugou for letting himself get distracted, causing Bakugou to scowl.
Bakugou attempted to walk to Recovery Girl’s office by himself, but after three steps, he was struggling even to hobble his way there. Suddenly, Bakugou felt hands on his back and by his knees, and was swept up into a bridal carry, courtesy of Bakugou’s worst nightmare, Sero Hanta. He scrambled a bit at the sudden shift, latching his arms around Sero’s neck. He made a point to ignore the curious whispers of his classmates, willing himself not to think about Sero’s stupidly abnormal strength.
“Put me down, Soy Sauce, you prick! I can walk just fine! I don’t need you to fucking carry me like some girl.” At Bakugou’s complaints, Sero just rolled his eyes.
“Dude, you almost fell over twice just getting out of the gym. Let me do this for you, yeah?” Bakugou refused to let himself blush over this, he wasn’t some swooning shoujo protagonist.
“Fuck you, it’s your fault I’m even—!” Before Bakugou could finish, he saw Sero’s face fall into something apologetic, like he fuckin’ felt bad or some shit. Bakugou bit his tongue, changing the subject. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal. Now stop looking like a kicked puppy, you tall bastard.”
Sero’s eyes lit up at Bakugou’s words, a teasing smile making its way onto his face. “Whatever you say, pretty boy.” If Bakugou wasn’t red before, he without a doubt was now. Damn this stupid, stupid bastard. He muttered a half-hearted “don’t call me that”, but the usual venom was missing.
They had been walking in silence for a few minutes, Bakugou not trusting his voice for the majority of that time. He realized that Sero didn’t even seem tired after carrying Bakugou for this long, a thought that made Bakugou’s stomach feel weird.
“... Do I even weigh anything to you, asshole?” Bakugou’s mouth mumbled without his consent, praying to whatever god was out there that Sero didn’t hear him.
“Not really, it’s like carrying a couple of grapes.” Fuck me. Sero’s smug smile was back on his face. This idiot was going to be the death of him.
Once they had made it to her office, Sero gently placing Bakugou on the bed— again, fuck you, his heart didn’t skip at that—, Recovery Girl made quick work of his injury, the pain pretty quickly subsiding.
“Thank you for bringing him, Sero. Bakugou, you’ll rest here for the rest of class, and then you should be fine to go back. You can head back to training, sweetie.” Sero nodded.
“I’ll see you later, Blasty. Sorry, again.” He gave an apologetic smile and a wave, before making his way out of the office. Bakugou found himself wishing for “pretty boy” again, a little disappointed Sero had listened to his weak command, before mentally berating himself.
“You two are quite cute together!” Recovery Girl teased. Bakugou burned the bedsheets in lieu of a response.
***
While Bakugou loved getting to be away from his parents while living in the dorms, one major issue that came alongside that was having to be social. He had friends now, people who actually wanted to hang out with him and talk to him. It was an adjustment, but Bakugou refused to be bad at anything, and having friends was included in that.
He and Kirishima hung out a lot, usually studying or sparring together if they weren’t with the rest of the so-called “Bakusquad”, a name Bakugou despised. Today was a sparring day, since Bakugou found himself wanting to ignore all of his thoughts regarding one specific member of their “squad”.
He and Kirishima were on their third round of sparring, each of them having a win under their belts. This round would decide the winner, and Bakugou was laser focused on winning this. Kirishima counted them down, and Bakugou immediatly sprinted toward Kirishima, prepared to feint a frontal attack.
“So, what’s up with you and Sero, huh?” Bakugou’s brain stuttered, but he never makes the same mistake twice. He doesn’t falter, ducking around Kirishima to try and catch him off guard.
“Nothing, now shut up and focus, Shitty-Hair!” Kirishima is unfazed, dodging Bakugou’s attack.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing, bro. There’s sexual tension everytime the two of you are in the same room nowadays!” Bakugou releases an explosion by Kirishima’s hair. “Dude, we said no quirks!”
“Then shut the fuck up!” Bakugou seethes. Kirishima side steps Bakugou’s uppercut, attempting to sweep kick his legs, but Bakugou dodges.
“Alright man, I’m just saying! Just looks like Sero’s kinda into you, is all.” At that, Bakugou finally does falter, giving Kirishima just enough time to pin Bakugou to the ground. “Huh, you usually react faster than that.”
Bakugou attempts to wriggle out of Kirishima’s hold, but the asshole’s hardened his arms so Bakugou can’t blast them away. “Thought we said no quirks, you dick.”
“You did it first, my guy. Now, talk to me. We’re bros, you can tell me if you’ve got a crush on our buddy!” Bakugou attempts another escape, but it’s in vain.
“We aren’t bros, and that fucker isn’t my ‘buddy’. Now let me go, I want a damn shower.” Kirishima, the asshole, decided to sit on Bakugou’s back.
“Give me an honest answer, and I’ll get off you bro!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, about to rattle out one of his usual threats, before he remembered what Kirishima said moments earlier.
“... What did you mean earlier.”
“About what?” Bakugou huffed in frustration, hating having to explain himself.
“About fuckin’... Tape Arms. You know what I mean, dick!” Kirishima hummed.
“Oh, about him being kinda into you?” Bakugou felt his ears flush, but nodded. “I mean, it’s self-explanatory isn’t it?”
“It isn’t, fucker. Explain it.”
“Well, you two tend to do that weird thing where it looks like you’re undressing each other with your eyes? He does it a bit more than you do though. Especially when you have like, a bit of eyeliner left on from your costume.” Bakugou felt steam coming out of his ears.
“Fucking what Shitty-Hair?!” Kirishima rolled his eyes at Bakugou.
“Dude, come on. The other day, when he was walking around the common room without a shirt on, you burned your curry rice. You literally never burn food like, ever.” Bakugou grumbled in annoyance, but didn’t deny it. Soy Sauce did make him burn his curry. Often.
“He also calls you pet names, dude. And you let him.” Bakugou didn’t have a rebuttal for that.
“Fucking, whatever, but that doesn’t mean he’s-” Bakugou’s face went hot. “Y-y’know. Whatever the fuck.” Bakugou was suddenly twisted, so he was on his back and Kirishima pinned his arms against the ground, still not letting him up. Kirishima had a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Oh my god, dude! You just stuttered!”
“Fuck off, no I didn’t!” Deny it, denial is safe.
“Yes you did dude, oh my god! Are you embarrassed?” Bakugou sputtered in response.
“No, fucking get off me! I don’t get embarrassed, ass-face!” Bakugou grimaced at the shitty insult, what the hell was that?
“Dude, even your insults are getting weaker!” Goddammit. “Come on, admit it, you like him too!” Bakugou started thrashing harder to escape, his mouth getting dry. How did Kirishima always see through him this easily?
“If I say yes will you get the hell off of me? Your ass is fucking heavy.” Kirishima grinned, in that sunshine-puppy way he always does.
“You got it, Bakubro!” He groaned at the nickname, its usage having spread to the entire squad. He steeled himself, knowing he was going to get teased to hell and back for this, but he really wanted a shower right now.
“Whatever. Fine, I might have a… thing. For Tape Face. Maybe.” Kirishima sighed, clearly a little disappointed, but relented and got up from where he was holding Bakugou down.
“Alright, sorry about that Bakugou!” Bakugou grunted. “I just want you to feel like you can talk to me about this kinda stuff! It always helps to have someone you can talk to about a crush.” Bakugou stared at him, affronted.
“I absolutely will not come to you about my… crush.” He spit out the word crush like it tasted bitter.
“Sure, Bakugou.” Why did none of these extras believe him when he said shit? Sarcastic pricks. “Come on, dinner’s starting soon. Momo had yakisoba catered!” The two made their way over to the showers, Bakugou grumbling “my yakisoba is better, fuckers” under his breath.
After a quick shower, Kirishima rambled about that steel bastard and something about protein shakes on the way back to the dorms. Bakugou was only half listening, still ruminating on what Kirishima had said earlier.
Just looks like Sero’s kinda into you, is all.
For some reason, that statement didn’t feel as… frightening as it should have. Bakugou didn’t do emotions, he didn’t have time for that kinda mushy bullshit. The idea of having fuckin’ romantic feelings for one of his only friends, as loathe as he was to admit he had any? The fact that it wasn’t alarming Bakugou was concerning in itself.
Having to admit to Kirishima that his fixation on Sero was slightly more than platonic was embarrassing, obviously, but also kind of freeing. Maybe he could finally get over whatever weird hang-up he had over Sero and his stupid amount of strength.
He and Kirishima had made it to the dorms just in time for dinner, the entire class crowding around the plates of yakisoba in the kitchen. Iida and Momo were desperately trying to organize a line, but it was clearly failing as people just plated themselves haphazardly.
Bakugou told Kirishima to grab him a plate, since he needed to go drop off his workout bag in his room. Bakugou hated leaving anything in the common room, even for a brief moment. He was about to start climbing the stairs up to his room, before he came face-to-face with a naked chest. He didn’t even have to guess who it belonged to.
“Aw, leaving us so soon Blasty?” Bakugou tried not to get flustered at Sero’s teasing, but his newfound realization about his feelings made that incredibly difficult.
“Would it fucking kill you to put a shirt on? Do you even own any?” Sero had moved out of Bakugou’s way on the steps, but had side stepped so he was now slightly crowding Bakugou’s space.
“Maybe I don’t. You wouldn’t mind, right?” Bakugou sputtered, Sero leaning in closer.
“F-fuck off, you’re so damn annoying.” Sero’s grin widened at Bakugou’s stutter, why in the fuck could he not stop stuttering all of a sudden?
“Oh, you’re looking a bit red there, Bakugou. You got a fever?” Sero, the bane of Bakugou’s existence, pressed the back of his hand against Bakugou’s cheek. “You’re warm, too.” Your fault, asshole. Bakugou felt the sudden need to escape before he did something stupid.
“Just… put a fucking shirt on! I’m fine!” Iida yelled something about swearing, but Bakugou didn’t listen. He stomped up the stairs.
“Don’t be gone too long, pretty boy!” He shot a glare back at Sero, looking just long enough to catch Kirishima’s sympathetic gaze.
He didn’t take up Kirishima’s offer to talk. Bam-Bam was a good enough listener.
***
With the realization that he did, unfortunately, have a thing for Sero, came with a new lens on a lot of things that happened between the two of them. Bakugou noticed that Sero seemed to “misplace” his shirt more often during Bakusquad hangouts. He noticed that Sero seemed to stretch more, so the hem of his shirt would always rise a bit. Bakugou still found himself flushing like a schoolgirl when he did this kinda shit.
What was really annoying, though, was Sero’s new habit of bench pressing all of class 1-A.
Bakugou always had the lingering thought in the back of his brain that Sero was stupidly jacked, but he hadn’t been so clearly reminded of this fact in a while. So, when it seemed like every time he walked into the gym, Sero was benching another member of their class, Bakugou made sure to get a water bottle that could withstand his explosions.
Especially when he had managed to bench press Kirishima, who even unhardened was built like a brick shithouse, and weighed about as much.
Bakugou wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t. Even when it looked like Sero had benched almost the entire class, with few exceptions. It would be unfair to expect him to bench Shoji, each arm added an extra six pounds, and he was already heavy as shit. But he wasn’t jealous, not even a little bit.
Not even when he saw Sero benching fucking Deku of all people. Absolutely not. If his new water bottle suddenly had soot and nitro residue on it, that was his business.
While Bakugou couldn’t just avoid going to the gym, he wasn’t about to let Sero derail his focus that much, and he could at least try and avoid it whenever Sero was there. There were more late night gym sessions, going on days when he knew Sero wouldn’t be there, things like that.
It worked for a while, up until the Bakusquad (he hated that the name had stuck) wanted to do a group workout session.
Bakugou tried to refuse many, many times, but somehow those fuckers got their puppy dog eyes to start working on him because he cared about them or something. Gross. Whatever, Bakugou could endure Sero possibly bench pressing someone for an hour.
Bakugou had commandeered a corner of the gym for himself, doing his warm-up stretches without any interruptions. He looked up from a toe touch, noticing that the idiot crew had crowded around the weight bench.
“Hey Bakugou! Come over here, we wanna try something!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, ignoring Kirishima entirely. He refused to watch Sero effortlessly bench press someone, he was busy. “Bakugou! Come on, man!”
“Quiet, Shitty-Hair! Leave me alone!” Bakugou yelled. The idiot crew spoke amongst themselves, leaving Bakugou to focus on stretching out his legs.
“Guess you’re too worried about Sero showing you up, huh Blasty?” He heard Ashido’s teasing voice, knowing full well he was being baited.
“Bullshit, that bastard won’t show me up in anything!” Hook, line, and sinker.
Bakugou grumbled to himself at being so easily goaded, but made no move to stop himself. He dragged his feet over to the weight bench, slightly shoving Kaminari and Ashido out of the way. Sero was sitting upright on the bench, shirtless for some godforsaken reason, and with a light sheen of sweat on his skin. Bakugou swallowed.
“What the hell did you idiots want, again?” Kirishima, Kaminari, and Ashido all leered at him with mischievous grins plastered onto their faces.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that Sero has yet to bench press a few people in our class?” Bakugou, suspicious of what Ashido was insinuating, nods. “Like… you! He hasn’t tried to bench you yet!”
“Yeah, what about it?” Bakugou huffs, trying to mask the waver in his voice.
“Come on, Bakubro! He’s benched all of us, you have to go next!” Bakugou, trying to avoid his idiot friends, made the mistake of locking eyes with Sero. He had since crossed his arms over his chest, causing his arm muscles to flex slightly. Bakugou’s mouth watered.
“Aww, Kacchan, are you feeling left out?” Kaminari jeered. Bakugou felt his hackles rise, holy shit when did he get so easy to read?
“Fuck off, Sparky!” Sero had leaned forward slightly, causing a single bead of sweat to trail down his neck and chest. The air in the room suddenly felt stifling.
“Come on guys, lay off him. I bet he doesn’t even believe I can do it, do you Bakugou?” Bakugou could feel the game that Sero was playing, but something inside of him didn’t want to stop. Bakugou took a step closer to the bench.
“I’d like to see you try it, Soy Sauce.” Sero’s typical lazy grin turned into something else, something that made Bakugou’s insides feel mushy. The fact that this asshole had such an effect on him was nothing short of astonishing. He could hear the groupies whispering behind him, but his mind had laser focus on whatever was happening between him and Sero.
“Your wish is my command, pretty boy.” Sero’s voice was low enough that no one but Bakugou would have been able to hear it. His breath hitched in his throat. “Come to my left side, it’ll be easier for me to lift you.”
“What, you need a handicap to do this shit right?” Sero chuckled, laying back on the bench.
“No, I don’t. But you wouldn’t want to make my job harder, do you?” Bakugou huffed. “Come on, lay your back against my right hand and your thighs on my left.”
Bakugou complied, with some hesitation. He turned so his back was to the bench, laying himself over Sero so he could get a grip on Bakugou’s body. At the first point of contact, Sero’s hand pressing against his upper back, Bakugou stiffened. Sero then gripped tightly around his thighs, and Bakugou had to repress a shiver.
“You better not fucking drop me, bastard.” Sero chuckled again, but his grip on Bakugou only got more firm.
“Relax, Bakugou. I’ve got you.” Sero’s low voice reverberated around Bakugou’s ear, causing his heart to stutter in his chest. The words I’ve got you knocked around his skull on repeat. He wasn’t going to make it out of this unscathed.
Once Sero had adjusted, he lowered Bakugou slightly so his back almost touched Sero’s chest. Bakugou found himself reminded of the sports festival, even if for a brief moment.
“You good?” Bakugou grunted in affirmation. “Alright. Up you go!”
Without much ceremony, Bakugou felt himself being lifted up into the air, Sero’s hands pressing warmly into him. Sero’s arms didn’t even shake from the strain, his breath steady. Bakugou could feel a heat pooling in his gut, his mouth somehow watering and dry at the same time. A deep feeling of want overtook him, wanting Sero’s hands on him, his strength on display without the extras around to see.
He was quickly brought back down, back to chest with Sero once more. Before he could catch his breath, Sero began repping him without so much as a huff of exertion. Bakugou would feel embarrassed of how easy it is to lift him if he wasn’t so focused on the burning warmth on his back and thighs.
He needed to escape, which was becoming something of a pattern whenever Sero was involved.
“Alright, you proved your point. Let me down.” Bakugou masked the waver in his voice with his usual gruffness. Sero finished his rep, quickly hefting Bakugou back onto his feet. Bakugou flipped off his friends, who teased him up until he had collected his gym bag and was quickly speeding out of the building. Before he could open the front door, though, Sero called out to him.
“Bakugou!” Bakugou didn’t turn around, for fear his reddening face would give him away. “We should do this again, pretty boy! You make a good weight bar.”
Bakugou stomped out of the gym, sending a text to Kirishima to meet him in his bedroom. He took up his offer, yelling about Sero’s “dumb, stupid, shit face muscles” until he passed out.
***
Bakugou could feel his patience wearing thin. He knew he and Sero had something happening, but the fucker hadn’t actually done anything except act like a damn tease for weeks on end. The lack of shirts, the bench pressing, the goddamn nicknames, all of it was driving Bakugou up the wall.
But today? His patience snapped in two.
He was meal prepping for dinner, since he had unofficially became the main cook of the dorms, minding his own business. Mounds of chopped vegetables were on the counters, the smell of beef and chili wafting throughout the kitchen. Bakugou genuinely loved cooking, and he was damn good at it too.
He was in his own world, in the kitchen, that he barely paid attention to the voices coming from the common room, and the shuffling of furniture. All he could focus on was the tofu in his skillet, and the ground up peppercorns in his blender.
Then, Bakugou made the mistake of looking up from the green onion he was cutting, looking out towards the common room.
There was Sero, clad in skin-tight black leggings and nothing else, body contorted in a handstand scorpion. He was holding himself up only on his hands, his back bent backwards, feet dangling over his head. His hair was tied back in a loose bun, but strands were escaping, framing his profile. Bakugou was lucky he had taken his pan off the stove.
Suddenly feeling thirsty, Bakugou filled a glass with tap water and chugged it down, water dripping onto his shirt messily. He quickly swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, trying desperately to regain his composure.
He yelled out that dinner was ready, but as the crowd of people began swaming the counter, Bakugou yanked Sero aside before he had a chance to grab a plate.
“Evening, Bakugou! What’s up? Don’t keep us too long, I’m already starving.” Sero played the perfect picture of nonchalance, causing Bakugou to seethe.
“After dinner. You’re coming to my room.” Sero’s eyebrows raised, before his grin widened.
“Oh? Leaving me in such suspense, and during dinner, too! So cruel.” Bakugou clicked his tongue, turning his back to Sero.
“Whatever, just don’t be late, asshole. Come on, don’t let my food get cold.”
Dinner was genuine torture. Bakugou was badgered into sitting with his friends, and somehow ended up sitting next to Sero. He suspected conspiracy. On its own, sitting next to Sero wasn’t the issue, if you ignored the fact that he was still shirtless. Bakugou tried to convince himself he was desensitized to the sight, but was unsuccessful.
No, the problem was how Sero kept tracing his foot up and down Bakugou’s calf.
He knew Sero was a massive tease, but the feeling of skin to skin contact was enough to make Bakugou’s brain malfunction. The bastard had the audacity to look smug and unbothered on top of that.
Bakugou scarfed down his mapo tofu, quickly dumping his plate into the sink. He made eye contact with Sero as he passed the table, and Sero fucking winked at him.
Bakugou couldn’t head to his room faster.
He shut his bedroom door behind him, quickly checking his appearance in the mirror by his dresser. He quickly ruffled his hair into its usual artful mess, checking his teeth for any food that might’ve gotten stuck.
Man, since when did he preen himself for other people?
No, it was for Sero, not for other people.
Before he could give it much thought, there was a knock at the door. He almost scrambled to open the door, before steeling himself, he refused to look stupid right now.
He waited a couple seconds before opening the door, greeted by the tall, strong bastard who started this whole thing. Sero smiled widely, leaning on the doorframe.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, pretty boy.” Bakugou looked away, failing to hide his red cheeks.
“Get the fuck in here, Tape Face.” Sero laughed, shutting the door behind him as he stepped into the room.
“Such a mean nickname, especially when I gave you such a nice one! At least use my name, since it’s just us.” Sero stepped into Bakugou’s space, causing his knees to hit the edge of his bed.
“Sero—” Sero stopped him, cradling Bakugou’s chin with his hand.
“Not what I meant. You know my name, right Katsuki?” The use of his first name, combined with the dark edge in Sero’s voice, made Bakugou shiver.
“Who said you could call me that?” Bakugou tried to act annoyed, but his voice came out slightly breathless. Sero placed his free hand on Bakugou’s waist, stroking his side.
“I think we’re well past the need for formalities, pretty boy.” Bakugou threw his arms around Sero’s neck, so their noses were just barely touching.
“Kiss me, fucker.” Sero nudged their noses together.
“Ask nicely, and use my name.”
“... Kiss me, Hanta.”
Sero, without a moment’s hesitation, brought their lips together.
Sero kissed like Bakugou was something to be cherished, going slow even when Bakugou wanted to speed things up. He didn’t let Bakugou take over, instead gently guiding him to match Sero’s lazy rhythm. His hands left Bakugou’s face and waist, sliding down to hold firmly onto his hips. Bakugou tangled one of his hands in Sero’s hair, pulling at the messy bun and pulling it loose.
Bakugou felt Sero’s hands traveling lower, squeezing his ass slightly before moving down to his thighs. Suddenly, he was being hoisted up, and yelped in surprise. Bakugou quickly locked his ankles around Sero’s torso, glaring as Sero laughed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook ya.” Bakugou swatted at him, but it was weak. Bakugou was too focused on keeping his breathing level, because this was infinitely better than being bench pressed.
“Don’t stop kissing me, dick.” Sero rolled his eyes, but it was almost… fond.
“As you wish, princess.” Sero earned himself another swat. Bakugou tried to pick up the pace, kissing with more passion and fervor, his hands moving all around, from Sero’s hair down to his shoulders and back. Sero didn’t relent, keeping his lazy tempo. Sero broke the kiss, Bakugou trying to chase after his lips.
“Hey, angel, mind if we talk for a minute? I want us to be on the same page.” Bakugou rolled his eyes.
“About what, asshole? You want me, I want you, done.” Sero sighed softly, before gently tossing Bakugou onto his bed. Sero sits down at the edge.
“No, not done. How far are we going? Also, I need to know if this is… a one time deal.” Bakugou cocked his eyebrow. “Dammit, I like you, okay? Like, for real. Tell me now if you don’t feel the same, and I’ll dip.” Bakugou’s eyes widened. Sero’s confident persona was waning.
Bakugou was silent for a minute. What did he want out of this? He had a thing for Sero, but…
He was reminded of his conversation with Kirishima, and his entire history of interacting with Sero. He remembered how even beyond the teasing, the displays of strength, Sero seemed to actually care about Bakugou. The phrase I’ve got you starts ringing a few bells.
Yeah, Sero does have him.
“Hey, uh, mind answering me? I’m getting nervous since you’re so… quiet.” Bakugou makes eye contact, scooting closer to Sero before kissing him softly on the side of the mouth.
“I fuckin’... like you too, bastard. Can we get back to kissing? Emotions just make me tired as hell.” Sero chuckled against Bakugou’s lips.
“Sure. Seriously though, how far do you wanna go? Cuz I’d love nothing more than you hoist you against the doorframe and fuck you into next Tuesday. But it’s up to you.” A shudder traveled all the way up Bakugou’s back. That sounded great, actually, but Bakugou didn’t want to move too fast, and fuck everything up. Not when he just got something great.
“Can we just... “ He ducked his face into Sero’s shoulder. “Make out and… cuddle. For now.” He could feel Sero’s smile widened. Sero pushed him back so he could cup Bakugou’s face in his hands, stroking at his cheeks with his thumbs like he was something to be revered.
“Of course, pretty boy.”
Bakugou backed up against his headboard, Sero following suit, tangling their legs together under the sheets. Bakugou’s hands took their rightful place back in Sero’s hair, and Sero’s lived at their spot on Bakugou’s waist.
“I think I’m falling for you, Katsuki.” Bakugou felt his face heat, but allowed a small smile onto his face.
“I think I already have.”
“How long?” Sero let one of his hands wander into Bakugou’s hair, petting gently. Bakugou let out a pleased hum.
“Sports Festival.” Bakugou said, slightly embarrassed. Sero smiled fondly at him.
“It was a little after that, for me. Remember when I first called you pretty?”
“You made me late, asshole.” There was no bite. Sero buried his face in Bakugou’s fluffy hair.
“You love me for it.” Bakugou looked Sero in the eyes.
“Yeah. I do.”
If they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Bam-Bam being their only witness, that was their business.