Chapter Text
"Thank you so much, sir," the shopkeeper sniveled. Katsuki 'smiled'—stretching his pursed lips in a way that he hoped didn't look like a grimace.
He'd just stopped a minor robbery—barbecuing the jackass who had been knocking over corner stores for the last week.
Once he'd taken the idiot out (causing...a little more damage than was strictly necessary), he'd brought back the...fifty-two copies of 'Tangled' that the idiot had stolen from the store on the corner of 5th.
And the shopkeeper was elated.
He'd grabbed onto Katsuki's hand and shaken it vigorously before latching onto him and dragging him inside—offering him a free steam bun from their little (nasty-looking) hot food display case.
He had accepted to be polite, but would absolutely be pawning it off on one of the iron-stomach idiots at school.
Denki would probably love it.
"Oh, I'm sorry," a high voice interrupted as they bumped into his leg. He turned to raise an eyebrow at the little girl who'd used him as a roadblock.
"No problem," he grunted. "Jus' look where you're going. Don't wanna get hurt," he said, ruffling her hair. She beamed up at him, and the old-ass shopkeeper (who, upon reflection, was probably her grandfather) looked at him like he'd hung the moon.
"She's a little clumsy, but she's a big fan of yours, son! You and your little green partner."
Katsuki flushed.
"She's got good taste if she likes Deku," he said, squatting to look her in the eye. "I'll let him know to come by on his next patrol, so keep something handy that he can autograph, okay kiddo?"
She blushed furiously and nodded so hard that he thought her head might pop off.
"Will you sign something too, Mr. Dynamight?" she asked, big brown eyes pleading.
He chuckled. Of course she wanted him to sign something. He was the fucking best. "Sure, squirt."
Her grandpa scurried away and back, holding an (unofficial, unlicensed) debut poster of Class A.
They'd started popping up all over the place after Deku had kicked Shigaraki into the fucking sun. All sorts of unlicensed merch—from plushies to action figures to posters.
Now, just three weeks away from graduation, the business course professors were encouraging them to crack down on trademark infringement. He wasn't gonna do that.
Unlicensed merch meant that people thought he was badass. Besides...he'd bought a fair amount of it himself. Not that he'd ever tell anyone.
He could barely tell his friends that he liked them.
How the hell could he tell them he bought their merch? He obviously couldn't. They'd be disgusting and sappy about it and then he'd have to kill them.
He scrawled his autograph across his chest, grinning manically when the little girl squealed in excitement and hugged his leg.
"I gotta head out. If you have any trouble or need to file an insurance claim, make sure you get a claim number through Miruko so that I can sign off on it."
"Thanks, son," the old man grinned. "Enjoy the bun!"
He escaped before his grimace gave away the fact that he would not be eating that meat bun. He was abrasive but he wasn't a complete jackass.
He had to meet with law enforcement before he could go back to Miruko's to fill out his paperwork and sign out for the day. In any case, his patrol time was over and frankly, he was glad.
He was fucking exhausted, both from the villain chase and from...
Fuck.
From his sleep deprivation.
Because for the last three months, his useless gay ass had been spending his nights dreaming about Deku, or lying awake at night thinking about Deku, or trying to figure out how to ask Deku to spend time with him without seeming needy, or slamming his head into the wall thinking about the last idiotic rude-ass thing he'd said to Deku, or wondering if Deku's stupid green hair was as soft and fluffy as it looked.
You might say Deku was on the brain.
"Nice job with that robbery string, Dynamight," Miruko grinned at him. His stomach swooped. He admired the fuck out his boss-slash-mentor, and every time she complimented him he took -27 damage.
"Thanks," he replied. "And thanks for the tip on how to track patterns."
That had been ten more words than he meant to say. But then, he was always a little idiotic and flustered around Miruko.
Her eyes widened in surprise at his sincerity, then softened. "No problem, kid. You're kicking ass. Now go home and get some rest, you look like the undead."
He, predictably, bristled. "I'm hot as fuck, Carrot Fucker!" Not his best insult, but fuck you he was tired.
She snorted. "Tell it to your eyebags, Pipe Bomb." He flipped her off and stomped away. "I mean it, kid! Come back with those Eyebags and I'm sending you home next time!”
He was tempted to take a cab back to campus so that he could snooze in the back. It was Saturday night and he'd promised Deku a movie marathon when he'd won their last sparring session.
And, because he was dick-whipped for him, he'd agreed to have it after a seven-hour patrol.
But the nerd's birthday was coming up in a few months, and he had to save money if he wanted to get the adorable little asshole the All Might Debut Commemorative Pin collection he'd been eyeing. Shit was expensive.
So instead of the cab he desperately desired, he took the train.
The first few stops were peaceful. Sure, it was crowded—Saturday night meant that people were going out, having fun, and wasting their time and lives on disappointing dates.
Thankfully, despite the recognition he saw in some people's eyes, they decided to leave him alone.
The trouble started at the fifth stop—six stops away from the closest station to UA.
"Heyyyyy, Bakugou!" Katsuki closed his eyes and prayed for patience as Denki shouldered through the crowded train car to stand beside him. "Just finish up patrol?"
"Yeah," he grunted in reply.
"Niiiiiiice," he replied, drawing his words out like he was some sort of shitty sports announcer.
"You want this? Some grandpa gave it to me for stopping a robbery," Katsuki said, holding up the little plastic corner-store bag. "Thought you'd like it."
Denki's eyes widened.
He took the bag carefully, like it was made of gold not plastic. "Thanks, dude," he said looking inside. "Aw man, pork buns! You're the best," he crowed, grabbing one out of the bag.
"Obviously," he muttered. "If they're actually good, I'll show you where I got 'em."
He shifted as Denki stared at him in awe. "What?" he snapped.
"Just...that's really nice, man. Thanks."
"I'm nice to you all the time, fuckhead!" he barked.
"Yeah, but you're not like...hiding it. It's nice," he shrugged.
"Fuck you," he hissed. "You're my friend, jackass. I just suck at shit like affection. I'm shit at showing it but I appreciate you."
Both of their eyes widened and they stared at each other with their mouths hanging open. Katsuki had expressed affection and appreciation.
This time it was official. Something was wrong.