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Getting hit with a fuck-or-die quirk is annoying, but not as annoying as Deku. He makes the whole death thing seem a lot more approachable.
A lot of things seem more or less important when you’re working with a short timeline. On that note, Katsuki drops his phone in the toilet. It buzzes five more times while he’s peeing, but finally shuts up.
It’s only ten minutes after the last message that Katsuki’s startled out of his thoughts by aggressive pounding at his door and the voices of two assholes, neither of which he wants to hear with his precious last hours on earth. If Katsuki had left his phone intact, he might have gotten a heads up that Deku and Todoroki were planning to storm his apartment. It was a tactical mistake.
“Kacchan!”
“Bakugou, are you there?”
A curl of absolute fury forms in his chest. He’s already had to talk to three doctors, Aizawa, Recovery Girl, two nurses, and a very difficult orderly about this. He came home for privacy, and now he has to deal with these two?
Fuck. No.
“Don’t worry! We’re going to help you!”
Those words, from Deku, in this situation, are the scariest thing Katsuki’s ever heard. He needs to get out of here, now.
Katsuki burns five seconds shoving his couch in front of the door and then dashes onto his balcony. The best plan would be to find some quiet way to escape, but that option vanishes when Deku yells “Kacchan, I’m coming in!” and fucking splits his front door down the middle like a maniac.
Katsuki points both hands at the door, already splintering under blows from two pro-idiots, and fires himself backwards into the air with an explosion, breaking out most of the windows in his apartment.
The glass will slow them down, but Deku’s going to be hard to shake. Katsuki falls the ten stories to the street, picks a direction, and sprints. There’s no time to look back over his shoulder, he’s gotta put some distance between them. Before he even turns the first corner he hears Deku’s voice, far above him.
“There!”
Katsuki risks a glance back and sees Deku and Todoroki coming at him like missiles. Todoroki’s doing his ice glaze thing down the side of the building and Deku's flickering green through the sky.
Katsuki takes to the air, leading them in a noisy, icy arc over his neighborhood. The next time he looks back, Deku’s so close Katsuki can see the grim look on his face.
“Fuck OFF I’d rather DIE!” he yells, sending back an explosion to make him swerve. Ah fuck, Todoroki’s managed to get to the side of him and is launching off a building on an ice ramp. Katsuki tries to duck him, but while he’s not looking, Deku snakes blackwhip around his wrist and they all go tumbling down into the grass of a local park, ducks squawking everywhere, parents hustling children away.
Deku lands on top of him and wastes no time getting both wrists pinned to the turf. Katsuki knees him in the balls and bites his shoulder bloody before he’s pinned flat.
In a total panic, Katsuki falls back on deception. “Get off me, you piece of shit! I was waiting for my boyfriend before you and double dipshit broke into my apartment!”
Deku sits back on his hips looking stunned. “What? You have a boyfriend? Since when?”
“Who is it?” Shouto asks suspiciously, walking up behind him.
Looking him straight in the eye, Katsuki says the first name that comes to mind. “Shindo Yo.”
Aw shit, nobody’s gonna believe that. Katsuki hates that overrated sex toy. Deku and Shouto look at each other in confusion, mouthing “Shindo Yo?” and then Katsuki gets really lucky because Deku loses just enough focus that his blackwhip shibari-thing loosens around Katsuki’s wrists.
While the idiots are staring at each other, Katsuki jerks his hands free, blows them off their feet with a point-blank explosion, and sprints into the trees laughing joylessly and yelling, “See you in hell, asswipes!”
This is a losing game, but Katsuki’s in too deep to give up now. Any explosions would give his location away in an instant, which is an unfortunate handicap, but this park has twenty-ish acres of walking path, winding through the trees and scrubby bushes. Deku and Todoroki can’t monitor every exit.
He needs to put space between them, so Katsuki runs as far as he can, taking turns at random, trying to stick to the middle of the woods. Then he creeps off the path where the underbrush looks thickest and lets his heartbeat slow.
They can’t fuck him if they can’t find him. Then again, staying here forever won’t work either. Trust Deku to requisition thermal imaging goggles or something from his agency. Katsuki skulks towards the western edge of the park, but he halts with a prickle of fear when he sees a black form in the distance.
Aizawa.
Katsuki only spots him because his jumpsuit stands out like a black smudge on the bright green baseball field. He’s still far, but coming this direction, towards the woods.
Shouldn’t he be teaching right now??
Katsuki drops to his knees and clambers backwards into the bushes, blood running cold as Aizawa shades his eyes and gazes towards the treeline. Shit, shit, shit. He holds his breath until Aizawa pauses and touches his ear.
Well fuck. He’s got a headset.
Headsets mean coordination. Means there could be an entire battalion of heroes headed to this park, right now. Who else would Aizawa drag into this?? Mic? Hound Dog? Vlad? BJ?
Whoever it is, Katsuki would rather face anyone than Sensei.
He slides down the back side of a small hill on his ass and books it in the opposite direction, chancing the dirt path for a few hundred yards to put some distance between them.
A snapping tree branch twenty meters to the north sends him diving under a bush.
A holly, with thick, dark leaves. He army-crawls into the center of it, ignoring the scratches along his arms and the tugs at his hair. He settles and peers out just in time to feel stupid as a fluffy tanuki runs across the path.
He breathes a sigh of relief before cutting it off sharply as Deku’s feet appear, dipping into view from the sky. Of course that asshole is floating silently above the forest floor while Katsuki’s down here wiping dirt on his forearms and cheeks.
It’s hard not to blast him out of the air. Katsuki could get him good, but he doesn’t. He stays quiet and listens as Deku murmurs almost silently into his headset. He catches only the words “Yes, Sensei,” and “South, copy” and then holds his breath and waits as long as he dares.
A count of one hundred. Long enough for Deku to clear out, not so long that Aizawa can get every hero in the city stationed in this park.
Katsuki slithers out and runs due north, keeping his head down. He’s got to get out of here. Best option is to sneak out somehow and let them keep focus on the park, but if he needs to, he’ll take to the sky. It’ll be noisy, but that’ll shake at least the half that can’t fly. As long as he’s out of sight of Aizawa. Ugh.
His steps slow as the path widens and turns. There’s a playground ahead. A huge structure with towers and slides. Swings on the right. A picnic pavilion on the left. It looks empty.
Katsuki steps to the side, stops, and listens. Only birdsong, but something seems off. He creeps onto the woodchips, sidling toward the cover of the pavilion when a familiar voice says...
“Up here.”
Katsuki freezes. Looks up. Shinsou Hitoshi is sitting at the top of one of the climbing towers, legs swinging over the edge.
Katsuki’s jaw drops in horror, but he snaps it shut before he can so much as gasp in reply. He backs up, scanning the playground for anything he can use to incapacitate Shinsou quietly.
If he talks, it’s over. If he uses an explosion, every hero in the park will zero in on them. If Shinsou calls in, same deal.
Katsuki can probably beat him hand-to-hand, but why would Shinsou even risk that when he could alert Aizawa from his cozy perch?
“Oh, chill out,” Shinsou says, dropping down into the wood chips. He’s not wearing his capture weapon or his suit, but none of that helps Katsuki feel “chill” because Shinsou is wearing an earpiece, and there’s only one reason he’d be in the park right now.
“This whole thing is idiotic,” Shinsou continues, holding up his empty hands, as if that’s where the threat lies. “I dunno why they couldn’t let you die at home, if that’s what you want.”
Fucking right, although the uninterested way Shinsou tosses that out there seems kinda rude.
“But no. Sensei says that’s irrational, and you know how he is. Called me out of bed to come here and be a part of this circus.” He rolls his eyes and twirls a finger around. “He never really lets go, does he?”
Katsuki tries not to listen so he won’t be tempted to reply.
“But Sensei isn’t here right now, and I don’t really feel great about this ‘plan’ of theirs, so...”
Katsuki has every muscle tensed. Is Shinsou delaying him? Did he already alert everyone? Katsuki should just run for it, but as he’s planning his route, Shinsou says, “Two choices. If you want, I’ll brainwash you. I’ll make it so that you don’t remember anything and you can wake up safe and sound at home and forget anything ever happened. Or, if you’re really set on riding this out, I won’t stop you, but you gotta punch me or something, so Sensei doesn’t suspect I let you go.”
He will, huh? Katsuki doesn’t trust it. Mouth still sealed shut, Katsuki darts forward, and decks Shinsou in the face. The smart move would be to get him in the temple and knock him unconscious but Katsuki can't bring himself to follow through.
Shinsou doesn’t so much as flinch and the blow lands solidly across his cheekbone. He wipes a little blood from his nose with the back of his hand and sniffs.
“You always choose the hard way, don’t you? Fine, give me one more then,” he says. “But it would be awesome if you could avoid breaking my nose.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and scoffs in annoyance.
Apparently, that’s enough.
The world goes glassy and violet like someone slipped a tinted bell jar over him. Katsuki’s arms fall to his sides and his anger flares white-hot before it’s smothered down to coals by the heavy fog of Shinsou’s quirk. The asshole brainwashed him.
In the slow way that he’s able to, Katsuki begins planning a series of murders.
In front of him, Shinsou sighs and slouches. “I’m sure you’re mad now, but you’re going to thank me for this later.”
With dismemberment, maybe.
“Go ahead and hit me again. Don’t break my nose.”
At least Katsuki’s brain approves while his fist smashes into Shinsou’s face. Same side. He’ll have a shiner.
Shinsou straightens up and runs a hand through his hair. Katsuki’s second punch left his mouth and cheek smeared with blood. He touches his left ear.
“Got him, Sensei. Playground on the north side. Come quick, he’s pretty fucking pissed. He’s fighting my quirk.”
Vaguely, Katsuki notes to himself that ‘pissed’ is a very mild description for a person who will spend the rest of their life hunting you.
Shinsou tips his chin up to peer into his eyes. “I hope you appreciate how much trouble everyone’s going to for you.” Strangely, he follows that up with, “Climb inside the twisty slide, brace yourself halfway up, and stay quiet.”
Katsuki’s body moves before his brain is able to start working on the sentence.
Circling down from the tower where Shinsou was perched is one of those enclosed spiral tube slides. Katsuki walks to it, ducks down, and crawls inside the thick green plastic.
It’s not very steep and made for someone much smaller than Katsuki, so he has no trouble bracing his hands and knees to climb up one rotation and sit with his knees to his chest, the tread of his shoes holding him steady.
The plastic tunnel blocks a lot of sound, and distorts the bits that do reach his quirk-muffled brain, but he hears some wood chip scuffles. At some point later, Aizawa calling Shinsou’s name. Then there’s conversation, too fast and indistinct. Deku must have shown up, too, because his annoying chirp comes through the clearest.
Katsuki gets a little shimmer of satisfaction when he hears “Dammit!” and the slide shakes under him like Deku hit the structure in frustration.
Everything blurs together, but at some point, there’s quiet again. It lingers until someone bangs twice on the slide and Shinsou’s voice tugs at him, “All clear. Come down here.”
Katsuki lifts his feet and slides down until he’s sitting at the end of the slide. Shinsou squats down in front of him. “All right, psycho, it’s just us. So what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”
The world is still fuzzy and indigo-tinted, so the question isn’t for him. Katsuki tries to focus on Shinsou. There’s now blood smeared down his neck and wood shavings clinging to the crew neck of his t-shirt. Katsuki isn’t able to line up the events in a way that makes sense.
Shinsou frowns at him, elbows on his knees. “Guess there aren’t a lotta choices.” He pulls out his phone and stares at himself in the camera. Licks the hem of his black t-shirt and tries to wipe away the blood from his skin. He does the same for Katsuki, wiping dirt from his face.
“Okay, that’ll do. Come with me. Walk at my side and look happy.”
He puts his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders and they walk together, matching a brisk gait. Everything’s blurry for Katsuki, other than Shinsou’s voice.
He laughs as they pass out of the woods and says, “Okay, not happy—that’s just bizarre. Try for content.”
Katsuki has no idea what his face is doing right now. He’s trying to track where they’re going. Trees change to grass and grass to sidewalk. Shinsou’s arm curls, half-hiding Katsuki’s face as they walk down blurry, unfamiliar streets. Everything slides by like it’s on a conveyor belt until they reach a building so odd Katsuki’s able to focus on it.
The outside is garishly painted—green patterned, with pink window awnings. They pass by a fiberglass panda holding a heart. Katsuki’s shoes scuff on a smooth, hard floor and Shinsou draws to a stop in front of a big screen, surrounded by pink halogen.
Shit. It’s a love hotel.
“Ooohkay,” Shinsou mutters, swiping through the room selection pictures. “The businessmen in this district must take long lunches. We got four choices... Hello Kitty, Neon Pink Strawberry, this one where the bed looks like Santa’s Sleigh, and Underwater Adventure.
Katsuki’s eyes can’t see the room pictures. They’re moving too fast in blurs of bright color. Shinsou looks sideways at him, then back at the screen. “Underwater Adventure it is. Maybe the blues will be calming.”
He must pay, because soon they’re moving again, Katsuki’s body continuing to “walk next to Shinsou and look content” without any direction from him. The next time things settle enough for his eyes to focus, he’s in a dimly lit room with midnight blue walls.
“Shoes off. Sit on the bed.”
Katsuki looks around the small room and finds a round bed in the middle, covered in a light-blue comforter, ruffled and gathered like waves.
He sits and floats while Shinsou moves in and out of his vision.
The light flickers strangely and Shinsou says, “Wow, that’s cooler than I expected.” He reappears in front of Katsuki again. Not kneeling, he’s pulled a chair to the bed so they’re facing each other, knees almost brushing.
His voice rings like a bell in Katsuki’s head. “Bakugou… I’m going to let you go.” The fog is already clearing and Katsuki’s brain spins up with alarm and confusion, eyes roving around the room. Shinsou’s face is clean, his hair curling damp on his forehead. Behind him, the walls shimmer with... bubbles?
“But if you blast me, I’m gonna be so, so pissed.”
Katsuki’s fingers twitch at the suggestion, but he’s not free yet, and it makes Shinsou’s voice impossible to ignore.
“I spent like eighty thousand yen on this room and lied to Sensei, so you owe me at least a conversation. And you hit me twice.”
Katsuki tries to say that he asked for both of those, but he isn’t able to do more than grunt.
“I’m assuming that’s agreement,” Shinsou says. “Now I’m going to do this nice and gentle. Three, two, please don’t hit me... one.”
The last cobwebs of his hold dissolve.
The second he can move again, Katsuki draws a gasping, relieved breath and throws a hand out at Shinsou’s chest.
Shinsou startles back, rocking his chair onto two legs, but Katsuki doesn’t blast him, not yet, and it clunks forward again.
“Really?” Shinsou says, exasperated.
“You want me to talk to you? After you’ve already brainwashed me once?” Katsuki is so relieved to hear the sound of his own voice again.
Shinsou slouches back in his chair. “Yeah. Me. The guy who saved you from six pro heroes and brought you to a safehouse.”
Safehouse. Sure. Hand still raised, Katsuki looks around the room. There’s a projector hidden somewhere, and it’s painting the walls with undulating purple-blue light and scenes of coral and anemones. A whale swims across the wall to his right.
Shinsou cracks a grin as a quiet whale call sounds over the background of bubbles and waves.
“Look,” he continues. “I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to explain the whole thing to your feral ass while Midoriya was closing in on us, but it worked. Now, I learned a long time ago just how bad it can get when you force people to do shit they don’t wanna do, so I’m not into that. I’m not gonna do that. But I have to ask... what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Katsuki lets his arm fall and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. God, there are fish up there, too, somehow.
“Nothing is wrong with me, other than a bunch of shitheads who can’t mind their own business. You think I’m actually planning to die?”
Shinsou tilts his head. “Well, as I understand it, you left the hospital against doctors' orders saying, ‘Thanks but fuck you, I think I’d rather die.’“
Katsuki leans forward, “They wanted to bring someone to the hospital and monitor me during the act!”
“Yes, because of your heart condition.”
Katsuki flips him off.
“You repeated the same thing to Aizawa and Recovery Girl, and then stopped answering your phone.”
“I dropped it in the toilet because Deku texted me ten thousand times.”
“I see,” Shinsou says evenly. “No reason for anyone to be worried at all.”
“Maybe,” Katsuki spits, “Everyone could just step the fuck off and let me handle this. If there’s anything I hate, it’s a bunch of nosy know-it-alls sticking their big noses into my business!”
“Uhuh.” Shinsou nods agreeably. “So you had a plan, then?”
Katsuki opens his mouth and then closes it. Shinsou waits as the whale passes behind him again.
“I had a plan to make a plan,” Katsuki says.
“I see,” Shinsou says again.
“Oh shut up,” Katsuki says. “It’s not that hard to have sex, right? I could have handled it! It’s just... that then... I didn’t have a phone.”
Shinsou bursts out laughing.
For whatever reason, maybe it’s the giant clam on the wall, it does seem slightly funny right now. Katsuki rubs his face with both hands. “So I was going to download zoom on my laptop, but I realized I didn’t know anyone’s phone number.”
Shinsou laugh-snorts obnoxiously.
“And suddenly there’s Deku, kicking in my front door like he’s on the emergency sex squad or something? Like he gets to pick for me? Fuck him.”
Shinsou straightens and wipes the tears from his eyes. “You could have explained it to him?”
“I don’t owe him an explanation,” Katsuki says. “Him or anyone. It’s my business who I fuck and when and how and if I’d rather die. Not anybody else’s.”
Shinsou holds up a hand. “Fine. That’s fair. Maybe you could have de-escalated things, I know you took that class at UA, but whatever.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it out. “Here.”
Katsuki stares at it, but doesn’t take it.
“Well?” Shinsou asks. He probably already suspects, so Katsuki just says it.
“I didn’t decide who to call.”
Shinsou doesn’t look surprised. He sets the phone down on the bed next to Katsuki. “Maybe it’s time to make that plan, then. Your grand escape ate up some time.”
Katsuki looks at the phone, then at Shinsou. His wavy purple hair almost blends in with the wall behind him. His eyes are patient, shoulders relaxed. No one knows where they are. This is the safest Katsuki has felt all day.
He says something he wouldn’t, in almost any other situation. “I couldn't decide who to call… because I haven't slept with anyone.”
“Oh obviously,” Shinsou says, shrugging. “Otherwise you’d have settled this hours ago.”
Katsuki glowers at him, but Shinsou points at the phone. “So, who are we calling? Kirishima?”
Ugh. No. They’re too close—see each other all the time. Katsuki shakes his head, turning away from Shinsou’s expectant gaze. This feels a lot harder, actually, than leading a manhunt. There might have been a bit of self-distraction there.
“Sero?” Shinsou asks. “He was my first, back at UA. It went okay.”
Katsuki groans and flops back on the bed. He tries to pull a pillow over his face but he ends up with a stuffed seashell and, now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t want to rub it on his face.
“He’s probably a lot better in bed now,” Shinsou adds thoughtfully.
Katsuki grunts and a minute passes with nothing but the ambient ocean noise.
“So... not Sero. Okay.” Shinsou grabs his phone and starts swiping at it. “I mean, I can just read you all my contacts?”
Katsuki makes a retching sound. He can’t help it. Maybe he can spend his last hours watching the whale.
“Uhhh huh. So, okay, I know Aizawa has an escort service he likes. I’d have to text him for the number, but I’m sure he’d give it to me.”
Katsuki rolls himself facedown on the bed. That’s not enough, so he rolls twice more until he plummets over the edge and thuds onto the floor, getting a faceful of shag carpeting.
Behind, above, or wherever, Shinsou clears his throat. “Look, I get that you’re not into this, but I’m starting to feel a little stressed here. Can you consider for a second how bad I’m gonna feel for like... forever? If I saved you just for you to die in a love hotel? Not to mention how short forever will be, since Midoriya will murder me. So, really, there are two lives on the line.”
This isn’t a big deal, Katsuki repeats to himself. It doesn’t need to be a big deal. He forces himself to roll over again.
Shinsou’s standing over him, backlit by shifting ocean light. He holds out a hand. “C’mon champ,” he says. “It’s no big deal. You can totally get fucked.”
He’s right. Katsuki needs to stop making things harder. He reaches up and clasps Shinsou’s hand. “Fine,” he says as Shinsou hauls him up. “Can you do it?”
Shinsou stumbles forward and they topple to the edge of the bed.
“Shit, sorry,” Shinsou says, shoving back so his elbow isn’t digging into Katsuki’s chest. “I… yeah? I mean, yeah. Yes. But like, do what exactly?”
“What the fuck do you think?” This feels a lot more like asking for a favor than Katsuki had hoped.
Shinsou sits up and drags a hand through his hair, pulling himself together. “I mean, how. Do you want me to use my quirk?”
Katsuki recoils. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, just checking. So like… regular sex? Or should I…” his nose wrinkles up. “Do it differently?”
The floor is calling to him again, but Katsuki forces himself to sit still and ask. “Differently how?”
Shinsou presses his lips together. “I mean, I could not touch you that much. Just sort of… cum in you. Actually, I don’t know, I didn’t get a full briefing on the quirk. Would that do the trick?”
Katsuki did get a full briefing on the quirk, which was scarring, but not quite as bad as this moment right now. He closes his eyes. “Apparently sex quirks are difficult to test safely, but the guidance is that…” he repeats the words as tonelessly as he can, “penetrative sex where both partners climax is the gold standard.”
“Ah,” Shinsou says. “No pressure, then.”
“Raw,” Katsuki adds, remembering that part and immediately wishing he hadn’t.
Shinsou blinks at him.
Katsuki buries his face in his hands. “Nevermind, find me a hooker. Wait. No. I think dying is best, actually.”
“Okay, alright. Calm down.” The amusement in Shinsou’s voice is not helping. Katsuki scowls as Shinsou takes him by the wrists and tugs his hands away from his face. Shinsou’s chest is shaking with suppressed laughter. “Stop it. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.”
“I’m not laughing,” Katsuki snaps.
“Well try it.” He pokes Katsuki lightly in the ribs. “We’re not gonna get anywhere with you this tense.”
Katsuki grinds his teeth until his jaw aches. “You know, it hasn’t been such a relaxing day.”
“Yeah, that sucks. Really shitty, I get that.” Shinsou sits back and stares at him thoughtfully. “But you asked for my help, right?”
Katsuki shrugs, unwilling to double down when death is right there and easy.
“You did,” Shinsou says firmly. “And I agreed, so now you can stop worrying and relax.”
That logic doesn’t quite flow from Katsuki’s point of view. “How’s that?” he asks.
“I’m a pro hero, you know?”
Katsuki knows that. They graduated together. “And?”
“I’ve saved lives. I’ve worked under pressure. I’ve done weirder shit than this. You asked me to help, so let me do my hero thing. Let this whole situation be my responsibility, not yours.”
Sitting up straight, speaking clearly, suddenly Shinsou does seem like a hero more than a doofus. They’ve never worked together since Shinsou works covert exclusively, but everything he’s said is probably true.
The offer sits between them, and Katsuki imagines—briefly—letting Shinsou be the one who has to deal with this. No more indecision twisting in his gut. No more planning awkward conversations. No more tracking the minutes as they tick past. Everyone else was trying to take this decision from him, and he held on tooth and nail, but he’s the one who asked Shinsou, so maybe it’s still his decision. Maybe it’s smarter to hand it off so he can stop feeling sick about it.
“Fine,” he says, meeting Shinsou’s steady gaze. A surprising wash of relief hits him as one word lifts the pressure from his shoulders. “Do your hero thing.”
“Okay. Good.” Shinsou nods, eyes going distant like he’s forming a plan. A plan that’s going to involve Katsuki intimately. The uncertainty of it already grates at him, but Katsuki waits sullenly as Shinsou climbs off the bed and walks over to something like a mini-fridge.
“Do you want to imagine I’m someone else?” Shinsou asks as he messes with it. Oh god, he’s getting supplies.
Katsuki doesn’t watch. “No.” Who would he even imagine?
“Cool.” Shinsou returns to the bed and lays smack in the middle. He stretches out one arm and beckons with his fingers. “C’mere. Lie back.”
Too tired to think anymore, Katsuki eases backward until his head falls on Shinsou’s bicep. They’re lying on the bed next to each other.
“We’re going to tell a story together. I’ll need you to help a bit.”
Katsuki watches a trail of bubbles shimmer up the wall and onto the ceiling, strangely zen. Shinsou’s hero thing is certainly different than his own, although Katsuki can hear the calm control in his voice. They were all trained on how to speak to agitated civilians. Katsuki’s not usually on this side of it. “Okay,” he says.
“It’s the story of how we came to be in this love hotel. A nicer one. And it starts when you asked me out in high school.”
Katsuki snorts.
“Okay,” Shinsou says easily, like he was expecting that and ready to admit the truth. “It was me who asked you out. Red roses, expensive chocolate, the whole deal. I wrote a poem.”
Katsuki huffs and rolls his eyes. He’s going to have trouble with such an unrealistic story.
“But you turned me down flat,” Shinsou finishes, and Katsuki snickers. “You were so stuck up.”
“I was busy,” Katsuki says, grinning. “I tried to be nice about it.”
“Mmhm. Sure.” Shinsou stretches and jostles Katsuki a bit closer, flush against his side. “So I figured it wouldn’t happen. Resigned myself to never knowing the hidden pleasures of Bakugou Katsuki.” He waves a hand above them dramatically. “But then there was a party, couple years after graduation. Everyone was drinking, even you. You were kinda chill, for once.”
Katsuki listens to the moody ocean sounds. He could be chill.
“We ended up alone on someone’s balcony together… and you thought…”
He trails off like it’s a prompt and Katsuki lets the current of the story tug on him. He can play along. “I thought… he’s not so bad.”
“High praise,” Shinsou says wryly. “Handsome, too...”
“Tall. Dark eyes,” Katsuki murmurs into the pause.
It lingers for a second before Shinsou says, “Hmm. Yeah.” He turns his head, but Katsuki keeps looking at the inky blue ceiling. “And you kissed me.”
If he lets himself, Katsuki can almost imagine it. He can imagine that Shinsou might kiss him right now, too. But nobody moves. “How?” Katsuki asks finally.
“Real sweet, like a virgin.”
“Oh fuck off.”
Grinning, Shinsou rolls onto his side and looks down at Katsuki. “Hush. It was nice.” He leans forward, so slowly Katsuki can feel every millimeter as the space between them shrinks. By the time Shinsou’s lips press against his, his heart is pounding, his head is heavy, his mouth is parted for the lap of Shinsou’s tongue.
The bed is so soft, feels like Katsuki’s body sinks an inch further, just under the weight of that kiss.
“See?” Shinsou says, pulling up. He’s breathing a little heavy for a single kiss. His eyes are dark, like Katsuki said, shadowed by the undulating overhead light. It catches on his nose, cheekbones, gleams on his wet lower lip. “Really nice. I think you did it again.”
He probably did. Katsuki reaches up and curls his hand around the back of Shinsou’s neck, tugging his mouth close again. All his weight. Shinsou follows the motion and eases on top of him, forearms sliding under Katsuki’s shoulders, knee between his thighs, body warm and heavy.
He’s gotten bigger since high school, lats and obliques shifting under Katsuki’s palm, which slides under Shinsou’s t-shirt and up along the arc of his spine, drawing out a quiet hum.
Shinsou tilts his head and comes in heavier, harder, curling and pressing to tease at all the places they’re rubbing together.
Things move faster and Katsuki tumbles along as Shinsou’s mouth shifts down to his neck, nudging his face to the side. Between wet kisses, he murmurs, “Once I got my hands on you, I didn’t want to stop.” Every time his body shifts, it rubs over Katsuki’s hardening cock. “But,” he nips at Katsuki’s ear. “My roommate’s Monoma.”
“Ugh,” Katsuki says, half-smiling because Shinsou is silly on top of everything else.
“And your bed’s too small.”
“Mmm,” Katsuki agrees. His bed is too small, and Shinsou would hit his head in the loft.
“So we came here,” Shinsou finishes, and noses at his ear. “Because I really, really, really want to fuck you.”
Only the weight on top of him suppresses Katsuki’s shiver as the story catches up to the moment and folds around them like a jewel box. It could almost be true.
“Under the ocean,” Shinsou adds, sitting back on his heels with a grin.
“Why’d you pick this one?” Katsuki says, half in the daydream, half out. He raises his arms as Shinsou tucks both thumbs under the hem of his shirt.
“I thought you’d look good in purple,” Shinsou says, tugging Katsuki’s shirt over his head. He tosses it onto the floor. “And you do.”
Katsuki has nothing to say to that. Shinsou drags his fingers down the center of Katsuki’s chest like he’s touching the purple-blue painted on him by the light. He tosses his own shirt on top of Katsuki’s, and he has gotten bigger since high school. Not nearly as many scars as Katsuki has, but there’s one low on his abs. Straight, like a knife wound. That’s a bad place to get stabbed.
While Katsuki’s gawking, Shinsou hooks fingers in his waistband. “I’m gonna go down on you,” he says. “But I don’t want you to cum until I’m inside you. I wanna feel it.”
Heat flashes across Katsuki’s cheeks like the blowback from an explosion. He pulls a pillow over his face but lifts his hips as Shinsou drags the rest of his clothes off.
The stories, real and fake, blur as Shinsou’s mouth engulfs him, and soon it doesn’t matter which is which. Katsuki’s legs shake, his heel skates down Shinsou’s back, his hips shudder until Shinsou presses them down and then there’s no escape and Katsuki has to throw the pillow aside, gasping, “Stop, stop, stop.”
The light that seemed so dim before is too bright now, as Shinsou grins and bites Katsuki’s hipbone. Just the brush of his stubble is enough to make Katsuki’s cock bob dangerously. What saves him is the distraction of wet fingers. Slippery. Insistent. Soon pushing inside of him.
At first, it feels weird. Not that pleasant, really, but Shinsou’s mouth is distracting. Keeps him hard until the two sensations come together—the throb of Shinsou’s fingers echoing up his cock until he’s dripping precum onto Shinsou’s tongue and moaning into his palm.
“I think I like you like this,” Shinsou says, giving one last lick before he slips his fingers away.
Katsuki finds another seashell pillow by his head and chucks it at Shinsou as he shucks his pants, laughing. He kneels back on the bed, naked, and Katsuki tries not to stare as he finds the lube and slicks his cock. Katsuki’s seen Shinsou in a locker room before, but he wasn’t hard then. Turns out, he’s… real big when he’s hard. Cut. The pubes he used to get teased for in high school blend in when his whole body is tinted indigo.
Kinda hard to imagine anyone teasing him as he crawls on top of Katsuki. He leans down for a kiss, but at the same time wraps his slick hand around Katsuki’s cock, so all he gets is a shuddering moan.
Katsuki tries to push his hand away. “Stop it, I’m gonna cum too fast.”
“That’s the point,” Shinsou says, nudging Katsuki’s thighs apart with his knees. “I want you right on the edge.”
Katsuki groans and hitches a leg up as Shinsou fits them together so he’s only a stroke away from inside. “C’mon, at least let me feel it first.”
Shinsou makes a low sound, cock twitching against Katsuki’s hole. He drops his forehead onto Katsuki’s shoulder. “You wanna feel it, huh? Fuck. Okay.” He finds Katsuki’s mouth, kisses him deep, and eases inside.
He’s so much bigger than fingers. Katsuki groans, tenses, and pants big breaths as Shinsou works himself in with achingly slow strokes. Above him, Shinsou’s watching, eyes heavy, jaw tight. “Feel that?” he asks.
Katsuki rocks his head back as he tries to relax for it. Light dances and ripples like waves on the wall above him. “You’ve hardly done anything yet.”
Shinsou closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m big. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“What happened to ‘you can totally get fucked’?”
“Earn it,” Shinsou says. He pushes onto his knees and looks Katsuki over with a hazy-eyed grin. “Let me feel you cum.”
He doesn’t give Katsuki a lot of choice, wrapping a hand back around his cock, still slick with lube. The first stroke makes Katsuki tense all over and that does brush up on painful, but Shinsou doesn’t stop. Not his hand, not his cock. His hand’s moving a lot faster, though.
Katsuki twists on the bed with overwhelm, body confused between opening for Shinsou’s stupid big cock and tensing up to cum. Shinsou pauses to rub his thumb over the head.
“C’mon, Bakugou. You want me to hit for real? Think you can take it? Show me you can cum on my cock.”
Funny how Shinsou can talk so much shit while fucking Katsuki gently, but he does, twisting his hand expertly along the glans. He runs his mouth like he’s throwing darts at a dart board, trying to hit Katsuki’s orgasm. He’s tight, he’s pretty, he’s taking it so well, stretching so nice, moaning so sweet. He’s a wet dream, he was made for this, he belongs on cock.
Katsuki interrupts the white noise dirty talk. “Hey. Can you shut up for a second?”
Shinsou smiles, tight-lipped. “Maybe.”
Katsuki nudges Shinsou's hand away and takes over stroking himself, closing his eyes to focus. “Tell me something real then.”
Shinsou’s quiet for a while, but that’s okay. Katsuki can wait, relaxing into the familiar sensation of his own hand and the strange pleasure of Shinsou moving inside him.
Shinsou’s voice returns. “I jerked off to your compression tights ad.”
Surprise makes Katsuki laugh. “The shirtless one last spring?”
“The one where you were doing burpees. I paused it with your ass in the air.”
He’s ridiculous, but it makes Shinsou’s eyes feel hotter on his skin, knowing he’s thought about this before. “Perv,” Katsuki says, still smiling.
“If you only knew.” Shinsou curls over him and sucks on Katsuki’s nipple. Suddenly that warm affection turns into something hot and static, plunging down to Katsuki’s cock. He arches up, then gasps as the next thrust hits deeper.
“Oh fuck, I’m close.”
“Good,” Shinsou murmurs, moving to his other nipple and sucking hard. “I can feel you, all wound up. You’re gonna cum for me.”
Katsuki’s breathless. “Yeah.”
Shinsou’s hips rock steadily. He’s got a hand under Katsuki’s lower back keeping the angle… exactly right. He’s so big, but now it’s not too much. Not a distraction. Now that stretch feels like something Katsuki wants to give him.
It’s—Katsuki’s—oh, oh fuck. Eyes full of indigo ocean light, legs shaking, mouth wide, Katsuki spills out between them.
“Ahhh god. Thank fuck. Okay, step two,” Shinsou says, pushing up. Katsuki’s still shuddering as Shinsou grabs his hips, and plunges in faster.
He tosses the hair out of his eyes and pants, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
Katsuki has no idea what he needs. For the first ten strokes, he’s still shaking through his orgasm, trying not to scream as Shinsou’s cock wrings out his prostate… but then he takes a hard left turn into overstimulation, and screaming stops being optional.
He turns to bury his face in the blanket, but Shinsou grabs him by the right thigh, hikes his hips higher, and then his cock is behind Katsuki’s diaphragm. It’s almost good. It’s almost torture. Katsuki covers his face with his bicep and gasps out embarrassing, high-pitched sounds.
“Sorry,” Shinsou pants, pausing balls-deep. “Sorry—I—”
Katsuki claws into the thigh under his ass. “Don’t fucking stop until you cum in me!”
“R-right—okay.” Suddenly Shinsou’s going harder, which Katsuki hadn’t thought was possible. ‘Hit it for real’ is more real than he knew. He looks up in alarm and Shinsou’s fucking him like a beast. Hair sweaty, eyes heavy, neck and arms corded with the effort of holding him up by the leg. Katsuki watches his abs tense in time with the thrusts.
“Fuck,” he croaks. “I’m gonna cum again.”
Shinsou’s eyes land on him, startled and pretty, before he shudders, curls, and collapses, losing the rhythm as he falls on top of Katsuki.
“Oh my god,” he murmurs, kissing Katsuki so sloppily no answer is possible. His hips shudder with what is clearly an orgasm. Salvation, delivered to Katsuki’s ass. “Sorry. You can come again next time.” He buries his face in Katsuki’s neck, chest heaving against him. “But you’re gonna be so fucking sore. Oh my god, I’m so relieved that’s done.”
The afterglow tears away from Katsuki’s skin like a bandaid. Right. Shinsou was doing his hero thing. He was saving Katsuki, as a favor. He took responsibility, and he got it done, and now it’s… done.
“Yeah,” Katsuki says. “Thanks.” He shifts uncomfortably but Shinsou is too heavy for him to turn away. He’s still inside Katsuki for fucks’ sake.
Shinsou picks up his head and frowns. “Ah, fuck. That’s not what I meant.”
“Mhmm.” Katsuki squirms, then chokes out a gasp as Shinsou eases out of him leaving an empty ache behind. He presses his knees together and curls away. “It’s fine, I get it.”
“No, I don’t really think you do,” Shinsou says behind him.
Katsuki shrugs. Seems fairly clear, now that he’s out of the intensity of it. There’s a waving pink sea anemone on the wall in front of him and this room is starting to feel oppressive. “Can we turn off the projector?”
Silence behind him. Suddenly an arm slides around his waist and tugs him backwards. Shinsou curls around him, skin hot and sticky.
“What?” Katsuki asks, annoyed.
“I wanna tell you something real,” Shinsou says.
What’s real is that Katsuki’s exhausted and sore and there’s cum dripping down the back of his thigh. He hums an impatient okay.
“Bakugou…" Shinsou murmurs into his hair. "You’re so fuckable it makes my teeth hurt. I’m going to jerk off to the memory of you cumming until the sun explodes. I’ve probably developed some sort of ocean kink and I’m going to get boners at the beach.”
Katsuki huffs, amused, but not placated.
“When I said I was relieved, it was only because I was feeling just the tiniest bit of pressure given the time limit and death penalty situation. And the fact that I didn’t…”
He doesn’t finish the thought.
“What?” Katsuki asks.
Shinsou’s arm tightens briefly, his hand flat on Katsuki’s chest. “I didn’t want your first time to be shitty and traumatic.”
Katsuki swallows, almost embarrassed at how much was consideration was buried under Shinsou's sarcasm and indifference. “It wasn’t,” Katsuki says. “It was good. You were a good… hero,” he finishes, but the words seem inadequate. Too bland to describe someone like Shinsou.
They sit awkwardly until Shinsou responds, “All in a day’s work." He sighs and shifts to move away, but Katsuki grabs his wrist. He hates the way the space between them is growing. Yeah, their dumb little story was a fantasy, but here in this room, it was really Shinsou, and it was really Katsuki. None of that was made up. Shinsou was his dumbass self, Katsuki was grumpy, and still, they fit together just as well as their bodies.
Better, maybe, considering how big Shinsou’s cock is. But Katsuki could always practice.
Shit, the idea of… getting good at taking Shinsou’s monster cock is… it makes him ache worse. Katsuki groans.
“Are you okay?” Shinsou asks.
Katsuki swallows. “You did a good job. I’m gonna… think about it, too.”
“Oh.” Shinsou settles back behind him. Closer. His nose brushes along the back of Katsuki’s neck. “Are you…” He hesitates before kissing once, so slow and gentle Katsuki’s got goosebumps by the time he speaks again. “Thinking about it now?”
“Of course,” Katsuki says. Hard to forget it when he’s still sticky with both their cum. Shinsou kisses him again, on the side of his neck, and Katsuki’s heart is pounding.
Between two kisses, Shinsou asks, “You wanna do it again sometime?”
“Yeah. But…”
Shinsou goes stiff behind him so Katsuki rushes to say, “I gotta. Maybe. Practice. Cuz you’re so big.”
There’s a quiet groan before Shinsou sets his teeth into Katsuki’s shoulder and blows out a slow breath. “Hoo boy. Okay. Don’t get me going again. You’re already gonna be hurting tomorrow.”
Katsuki nods. He’s starting to feel it in all the places that had to shift to accommodate Shinsou’s cock.
“Shit. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you. Wouldn’t have if it wasn’t a… fuck-of-life situation. But when you’re up for it… if you want… I can help you practice for hours.”
Katsuki shivers and Shinsou, like he always does, keeps talking. “Take my time… use my tongue… stretch you nice and slow so—”
“Shut up,” Katsuki hisses, turning around and pushing his face into Shinsou’s chest. His cheeks are hot and his ass is throbbing. “You’re making me hard and then I tense up and everything hurts.”
“Sorry. No talking,” Shinsou says, sliding his hand up to squeeze the back of Katsuki’s neck. “I’m actually exhausted. Worked all night and Sensei dragged me out of bed.” His next breath turns into a yawn.
“‘M tired, too,” Katsuki says, but that might not cover it. As the adrenaline of almost dying and getting fucked within an inch of his life fades away, he’s left with the sort of bone-deep exhaustion he knows from 24-hour shifts and catastrophic emergencies.
“I booked the room for the night.” Shinsou’s hand works its way down Katsuki’s back, fingers pressing in slow circles. The water sounds are fading, light dimming. The world is already dissolving away as Shinsou murmurs, “We can sleep, if you want.”
Hitoshi startles awake to the annoying trill of his cell phone. It only rings for a few numbers—all of them work related.
He must have been in the middle of a much-needed REM cycle because it takes him a minute to figure out where he is. The fancy ocean-themed projector turned off while they slept, and the room is plain without it. Dark blue walls and dim recessed lighting. No whale. Just the whir of air conditioning and the insistent ring.
Hitoshi finds his pants, then his phone. Bakugou stirs next to him, rubbing his face into the pillows with an adorable, unhappy grimace.
“It’s Aizawa,” Hitoshi says. “I have to answer it.”
“Tell him to die,” Bakugou says, stretching.
Hitoshi answers the call and, after hesitating, turns it on speaker so Bakugou can hear, since they’ll be talking about him.
“Sensei.”
“Shinsou.” Aizawa doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then, “Bakugou is still with you?”
Shinsou sighs. “Yeah.”
“And did you make love to him?”
Shinsou recoils from his phone. Why would he say it like that? “Uh.”
Bakugou turns to him, eyes narrowing. Hard to say which part of this is pissing him off the most.
“Look, Shinsou, I waited as long as I could to interrupt, but there’s not more than an hour left. If you didn’t get it done, you need to tell me immediately. We have two other heroes standing by in the lobby to take care of things, if needed.”
In the lobby? They’re here?! Bakugou sits up alarmed, head whipping around to look for cameras, or maybe something to barricade the door. The last traces of hazy afterglow are wiped away by murderous rage.
“Yes, I fucked him,” Hitoshi chokes out. “Stand down.”
“Are you certain?” Aizawa says, emphasizing each word.
“Yes.”
“Did you ejaculate in him and did he—?”
“Yes, yes,” Hitoshi cuts him off desperately. “The gold standard medical fuck. It’s done. Jesus Christ.”
Aizawa pauses. “Good then.” His voice becomes louder like he’s talking to someone else. “Mission accomplished. Plan D was successful. Looks like we can pack up. Good work, Shinsou.”
Hitoshi freezes. Bakugou looks at him, confusion slowly morphing into horror. He mouths, I will murder you as Aizawa gives his usual, terse good-bye.
“Wait!” Hitoshi yells before Aizawa can hang up. “Wait a second, what the fuck is Plan D?”
“Plan D was for you to abscond with Bakugou and have sex with him,” Aizawa answers impatiently as if Hitoshi should have known already.
“But!” Hitoshi sputters and holds up a hand to stave off Bakugou, which is funny because that’s exactly how Bakugou is going to kill him. “No one told me about Plan D,” Hitoshi says, very clearly, looking directly at his would-be murderer. “You told me to brainwash Bakugou and hand him over.”
“Yes. That was Plan C,” Aizawa says. “Plan D only became relevant if you double-crossed us on Plan C. And in that circumstance, you would be a rogue actor, and therefore not privy to contingency planning.”
Bakugou sits back, willing to at least postpone murder. Hitoshi squeezes his temples, because this is giving him a headache. “Sensei, sometimes I really dislike working with you.”
“Because you didn’t like having sex with Bakugou?”
“You know that’s not it,” Shinsou says, eyes casting over to Bakugou's pretty face, currently squished up with disgust. He's always been attractive, but the word seems inadequate when he's naked.
“Would it have been better if I made it an assignment?” Aizawa asks.
Hitoshi sighs with resignation. In five years, he’s never once won an argument with Aizawa. “Would you at least tell me where the tracker is so I don’t have to burn my whole outfit?”
Without a lick of shame, Aizawa answers, “Sole of your left shoe.”
God, he had it all planned out. Hitoshi’s gonna burn everything anyway. “What about Bakugou?” he asks.
“Midoriya couldn’t get one on him.”
We should burn your clothes, too, Hitoshi mouths at Bakugou, who nods.
“If you suspend me over this ‘rogue actor’ bullshit I’m quitting,” Hitoshi says aloud. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it."
“This operation was off the books,” Aizawa says ignoring the question. “There will be no paperwork, but I appreciate your contributions to its success. I wouldn't have wanted Bakugou's health in the hands of anyone I trusted less.”
Hitoshi's almost feeling flattered when Bakugou yells, “You better not be downstairs when we leave!” at the phone.
“That would be a waste of resources,” Aizawa says, and immediately pivots into, “And Bakugou, I am extremely relieved you're safe. Doctor Miura recommends you return to the hospital no later than this evening for—”
“Fuck off! I’m removing you as emergency contact!” Bakugou grabs the phone out of Hitoshi’s hand and hangs up.
They look at each other.
“I really didn’t know,” Hitoshi says.
“I know.” Bakugou’s hugging his knees to his chest.
With the light on, Hitoshi can see the dirt still smeared on Bakugou’s neck and arms from the park. “Sorry if that kinda ruins things, though. I’m annoyed too.” More than annoyed. No wonder all the meddling made Bakugou angry enough to blow up his apartment. Sensei was just waiting downstairs for them to fuck? That man needs to learn when to let go.
His phone chimes. Aizawa texted two paragraphs of instructions on medical follow-ups for Bakugou. Hitoshi flips the phone over before it makes things worse.
Bakugou sniffs. “Fuck ‘em. It’s over. Anybody speaks to me about this again, I’m setting their apartment on fire.”
Shinsou nods, mouth firmly closed, since he’s obviously a part of “anybody.”
Bakugou climbs out of bed, not looking at him. “I’m going to shower and forget this happened.”
Hitoshi nods again and watches Bakugou’s perfect, muscular ass disappear into the bathroom with sinking disappointment. Aizawa one-hundred-percent fucked this up for him, and Hitoshi’s going to hold that grudge forever.
In the bathroom, Bakugou huffs in surprise as the lights turn aqua-blue and moody. Hitoshi didn’t see whatever light show they had in there when he was cleaning himself up earlier, but he did see the ridiculously big bathtub that Bakugou’s going to be sulking in. Alone.
He flops back on the bed, grimacing at the tug of dried cum on his abs. If he were smarter, he’d figure out some way to turn this around. If only he could rewind time by an hour to when Bakugou was sleeping contentedly on his chest. Maybe he should turn the ocean projector back on.
“Hey.”
He looks up to see Bakugou standing in the doorway of the bathroom, hair lit up in neon blue.
“You coming or what? You’re disgusting.”
Hitoshi bounces out of bed so fast his cock smacks him on the belly. “Oh yeah! Yep! Right behind you." He hustles into the bathroom and pulls towels down from the shelf. "You are gonna feel soooo much better after a hot bath. You know, there were bath salts and body oil in that vending machine. I could give you a massage and…”
He trails off as Bakugou shoots him a wry, sideways look. “Am I talking too much?”
“Nah.” Bakugou stoppers the tub and turns on the water. As it fills, he fiddles with a switch on the wall, dimming the lights to a soft glow. “Sounds nice. Go get ‘em.”