Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was late enough that the common room lights had been dimmed, but not so late that anyone felt the pressure of bedtime yet.  

Most of Class 1-A had settled in a loose, comfortable quiet. A few conversations lingered at low volume. Kirishima and Kaminari arguing softly over something on Kaminari’s phone, Ashido stretched across the arm of the couch and half-humming to herself, Uraraka cross-legged nearby with a book she wasn’t really reading.  

It was the kind of evening that felt deliberately unimportant, the sort of calm they all clung to after long days of training and missions.  

Shoto sat on the floor with his back against the couch, posture straight but relaxed, a warm mug cradled carefully in both hands. He absently cooled the tea inside with a faint trace of his quirk, watching steam thin and disappear.  

Katsuki was nearby, half-perched on a chair he looked seconds away from falling asleep in, boots hooked under the rung, attention drifting from one classmate to another. Sitting close, but not conspicuously so. Close in the way they’d practiced. Natural enough to be overlooked.

Eventually, Katsuki pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he was shrugging off the weight of the day.  

“I’m heading up,” he said, voice rough but casual.

A few responses came back automatically, his classmates knowing how much Katsuki’s nightly routine mattered to him.

“Night, Bakubro!”

“Sleep well Bakugo.”

Shoto looked up, leaning his face a little.  

He didn’t plan to. There was no conscious decision, no warning flicker of caution. He just did, the way he always did when Katsuki left a room – a quiet acknowledgment.  

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, everything else receded. It was the same look they shared in hallways, on patrol, in crowded spaces where touching wasn’t allowed.  

Katsuki’s gaze caught and lingered half a beat too long.  

Habit took over.

He leaned down and kissed Shoto.

It was quick, almost weightless, but unmistakably familiar – just a soft press of lips, practiced and private. The kind of goodbye they’d exchanged a hundred times. There was no hesitation in it, no sharpness. Just instinct, stripped of context.

Then Katsuki pulled back, his brain hitting a wall.  

The room was frozen. Every habitant in the room shared the same type of utter shock. Kaminari’s mouth was half open from when he stopped mid-sentence. Mina had fallen off the couch, now staring up at Shoto and Katsuki from the ground.  

Katsuki’s expression shifted in real time – confusion, realization, horror. His breath caught sharply, shoulders locking, his eyes darted around.  

‘I just... in front of everyone...’

“Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible even to himself.  

Shoto didn’t move.  

For a moment, he simply sat there, staring up at Katsuki like his body hadn’t received the memo yet. His fingers tightened slightly around the mug, knuckles whitening, heat rushing to his face in a way he couldn’t control. His mind went blank.

Katsuki straightened so abruptly he nearly knocked the chair over behind him.  

He didn’t look at Shoto again. Couldn’t. Instead, he pivoted toward the rest of the room with sudden, forced energy.  

“...Uh... GOODNIGHT!” He barked, volume turned up like he could drown out the last ten seconds by sheer force.

He moved. He leaned down in a flurry of awkward motion, planting rushed kisses on whoever happened to be closest.  

He grabbed Kirishima and gave him a peck on the lips before moving on to Kaminari and Ashido, continuing until everyone had received a kiss from Katsuki, all of them staring at him, dumbfounded.  

He spun, grabbed his shoes, and bolted upstairs to his dorm room before anyone could react. The sound of a door slamming was enough to rattle the walls, the sound echoing through the sudden quiet.  

The common room sat in stunned silence.  

“...Did Bakugo just...” Kaminari started, then stopped.  

Everyone else in the room was still frozen in time, not sure about what had just occurred.

Shoto stared down into his tea, watching the surface ripple faintly as his hands finally betrayed the tremor he’d been holding back.  

——————————————————————

It had been a long day of training and missions, the kind that left muscles sore and nerves stretched thin. By the time evening rolled around, most of Class 1-A had dispersed to their own corners of the dorms, quietly decompressing. The air was warm, the lights soft, the kind of calm that invited dangerous closeness.  

Shoto sat on the edge of his bed, jacket discarded, hair falling slightly into his eyes. Katsuki knelt in front of him, hands lightly braced on Shoto’s knees, eyes sharp and intense.  

One brush of a hand became another, lips pressed briefly, then with more intent, and before either of them realized, they were making out.  

The world narrowed to the small, dimly lit room. The muffled sounds of the rest of the form faded into background hums. Everything felt perfect, and then someone opened the door.

“Hey, Todoroki. Have you seen Bak–”  

Katsuki and Shoto froze, breathes stuck in their lungs.

Katsuki’s panic hit. He pulled back from Shoto as fast as gravity would allow, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement.  

Katsuki turned around, meeting the eyes of Sero who was watching them, jaw dropped to the ground.  

Shoto didn’t move. He stayed where he was, chest tight, gaze locked on Sero’s, heat thudding in his chest.  

Katsuki swore under his breath, voice low and frantic. “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT.” His eyes met Shoto’s whose were flicking around as if not knowing where to look. “Um, thanks for the calculus notes, um, Todoroki.”  

He spun around, planting a rushed, awkward kiss on Sero’s lips.  

“Bakugo?!” Sero yelled, recoiling from Katsuki. “What the fuck was th–”

Before Sero could finish his sentence, Katsuki was out the door and running to his own dorm, audible curses filling the hallway.  

Shoto stayed frozen a few beats longer, hands gripping the edge of the bed. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, still feeling the faint, lingering warmth of Katsuki’s lips.  

Sero was staring at where Katsuki was just standing, confusion all over his face.  He turned to Shoto, leveling him a questioning look.  

“Is that just something Bakugo does now?” He asked.

“Um,” Shoto said, not knowing how to answer. “Maybe he was trying a new custom from another country,” he replied, knowing how weak his response was.  

To his relief, Sero dropped it and left the room, still muttering his questions to absolutely no one.  

Once he left, Shoto was consumed by embarrassment.  

“Not again...” He murmured while covering his face.  

——————————————————————

Katsuki didn’t know why this meeting was being held.  

That alone made him suspicious.

Iida and Yaoyorozu dragged all of Class 1-A to the common room after dinner, furniture dragged into a loose circle that felt far too intentional to be casual. Everyone in the class was there. Even people who usually vanished to their rooms after dinner had stayed. The air carried the unmistakable tension of we need to talk.  

To his apprehension, the second he joined the circle, everyone’s heads snapped his way.  

Looking at Shoto, he noticed that the dual-colored boy was refusing to acknowledge his presence, hiding in the hood of his sweatshirt.  

To Katsuki’s amusement, it was his sweatshirt.  

It seemed like he knew the true intent of the meeting.  

Iida cleared his throat and stood, posture straight, glasses catching the light in a way that made the situation feel more official than it should have been.  

“Bakugo,” he began, “this is a class discussion regarding... your recent patterns of behavior.”

Katsuki stared at Iida, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. He knew it was only a matter of time before this happened.  

Ashido leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “We’re not mad,” she said, carefully. “But babe, you’ve kissed –” she paused, counting silently, “– like practically everyone in this dorm. On different occasions. Without warning.”

“Sorry for wanting to bring some fucking culture to this fucking place,” Katsuki growled, internally panicking.  

“It’s fine if you want to try something new,” Sero started. “But don’t bring it into our mouths, dude.”

A couple of people snorted. Someone coughed to cover a laugh. To Katsuki’s annoyance, his own damn boyfriend was trying to cover his own laugh.  

“It’s what people in Europe do,” Katsuki tried to protest.  

“Yeah, but we’re in Japan," Kaminari pointed out.  

“I personally find it disgusting,” Sero mumbled. “No offense.”

“Yeah,” Mina added. “Like, it’s too personal. Also your kiss kinda feel French.”

At that, Shoto’s interest peeked, eyes meeting Katsuki's.  

“I love you bro,” Kirishima said, placing his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “But not that way...”

“I hate it,” Shoto said, face deadpanned.  

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, giving Shoto a look that said we’re talking about this later.

“Fine, I’ll stop doing it,” Katsuki replied, embarrassment creeping up his neck, leaving behind scarlet color behind.

The meeting didn’t last much longer after that. There wasn’t much else to add. Conversation slowly splintered into safer topics, the tension thinning until it finally dissipated.  

The last of Class 1-A filtered out of the common room in small groups, conversation returning to normal as the tension finally bled away. Someone flicked off an extra lap as they walked up to the dorm rooms.  

The moment they were alone, Shot and Katsuki moved at the same time.  

Katsuki dropped onto the couch like his legs had finally given out, and Shoto followed immediately, barely sitting before the composure he’d been holding all evening completely cracked. The two of them collapsed sideways, shoulders bumping,then both of them just lost it.  

Katsuki laughed first, sharp and breathless. “I cannot believe they made me sit at a meeting.”

Shoto pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling as he laughed quietly. “You kissed half the class,” he said, voice perfectly level despite the way his shoulders shook.  

“IT WAS NOT HALF –”

“Yes it was,” Shoto replied mildly. 

Katsuki groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “I PANICKED.”

Shoto turned slightly, propping his head on his hand to look at him. “Your panic response it very public.

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

Katsuki shot him a look. “Oh, don’t act like you weren’t part of the problem.”

Shoto’s lips twitched. “How? I didn’t kiss you in a public setting and then proceed to kiss the rest of the class.”

“That’s because you’re evil.” Katsuki groaned. “It’s your fault for being so kissable.”

They lay there for a moment, laughter fading into something warm and quiet. Katsuki’s arm rested loosely against Shoto’s side, close enough to touch, not quite doing it yet. Shoto stared at the ceiling, expression softer than it had been all night.  

“...Iida looked like he was about to have an aneurysm,” Shoto murmured, burying his face into Katsuki’s neck.  

“DON’T FUCKING REMIND ME.”

Shoto hummed thoughtfully, then turned his head toward Katsuki again.” Ashido said something interesting earlier.”

“What?”

“She said,” Shoto continued, voice completely even, “that your kiss felt... French.”

There was a full second of silence.  

Katsuki bolted upright. He was already scrambling off the couch, face flaming, halfway across the room before Shoto even finished blinking.  

Shoot leaped up and proceeded to chase Katsuki, throwing little pellets of snow at him. “Bakugo Katsuki, get your French-kissing ass back here. You better give me clarification.”

“THERE WILL BE NO CLARIFICATION!” Katsuki screeched back, boots pounding against the floor as he fled.  

Shoto chased him all the way down the dorm corridor, smile wide and unguarded, the sound of the laughter echoing long after they disappeared around the corner.