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Unforeseen to anyone, including himself, Bakugou Katsuki has become the unofficial secret-keeper of UA. This is especially surprising because no one actually indulges their secrets to him directly. They just talk too goddamn loud, and too publicly. Because he’s quiet, and because no one expects him to give a damn - which he doesn’t - he overhears things. He knows about Deku and AllMight’s big stupid secret. He knows about Jirou’s secret, desperate longing for Momo (though to be fair, how could anyone not? The way her gaze lingers, the way she blushes when Momo spares her a passing glance or touch). He knows about Todoroki’s family drama, the way his traumatic past haunts him. He knows how the boy still carries it inside of him, how it sits in the palm of his left hand, how it mars his too-pretty face. And in the same way, he knows that Todoroki has accepted an invitation to dinner with his stupid father. Because apparently the disaster of a family dinner he and Deku were invited to wasn’t enough, but now Endeavor’s roped Shouto into some bastardization of a father-son dinner at some shitty restaurant.
He dwells on it in a nearly obsessive manner that afternoon. He tries to read, tries to watch television, works out. But all he can think about is all the bullshit he knows Endeavor has done to Shouto - directly and indirectly - and how he thinks he can just decide to step into the role of his father again, after being nothing but his abuser for the majority of his life. He thinks about the way Todoroki flinches when anyone touches him and about how oblivious he is to the way nearly all the girls - and a good amount of boys, too - fall over themselves around him. He thinks about the way he seems to just shut down and stare blankly whenever he’s not being directly interacted with. How at the dinner they all just glazed over what Natsuo had said about Endeavor basically killing Touya. How uncanny it is that Endeavor would have this massive change of heart now, when his prodigal son has a spotlight shining on him with regularity and a hero license with his name on it.
Normally, Bakugou was good at - nay, a pro - at keeping these stupid secrets filed away without bringing them to the light of day. Without getting involved, or even letting them cross his mind unprovoked. But this was Todoroki being a goddamn idiot, even more-so than usual, letting the man who singlehandedly stole his childhood away continue to ingrain himself in his life. Letting him masquerade as a parent. And there’s nothing Bakugou hates more than low-life phonies. So that’s how he comes to find himself knocking on Todoroki’s dorm room door at the agency at 10:30 that night, as if the building is on fire. When the door opens a crack and Todoroki’s blue eye stares out at him, bewildered, before pulling the door the rest of the way open, Bakugou thinks for a second that he might be a little unhinged. But he commits to it and pushes the thought out of his head the same way he practically pushes Todoroki out of the way to barge into his room. He stands there, in the middle of the room, obviously disturbing some presumably weird nighttime routine Todoroki has - cup of hot tea on the desk, hoodie pulled over his head, phone probably playing some alien conspiracy video out loud from his bed - and stares expectantly at Todoroki, who is staring at him in very much the same way.
“Bakugou,” he says simply in way of greeting, as if the very idea of Bakugou being awake and active past 9pm isn’t in itself reason for concern.
“Why the fuck did you say yes?” Bakugou spits out, tapping his foot angrily against the carpet. Todoroki stares at him for a long moment, and then pads over to his bed and sits on the edge. When Bakugou realizes that the stupid Half-n-Half isn’t playing dumb and rather probably really doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he begrudgingly elaborates. “Dinner. Old man.” …but just barely. Comprehension flashes across Todoroki’s mismatched eyes, and his shoulders tense, then slump. He looks down at his lap.
“I…well, I kind of owe him, don’t I?” His tone says ‘statement’, but his upward glance at Bakugou screams ‘question’. Bakugou spits out a noise of disgust and disbelief from the tip of his tongue.
“For fucking what? His performance at Fuyumi’s dinner that night? For letting us chase after him so he can pretend to be some kinda god graciously bestowing his wisdom upon us? For the childhood trauma?” Todoroki stares past him at nothing, and his hands tighten over his knees. He looks as if he’s being chastised, and well, Bakugou supposes he kind of is. Something in him propels him to grab the still steaming cup of tea off Todoroki’s desk and push it into his hand as if he asked for it. Genuine warmth tints the edges of Todoroki’s expression, and he smiles up at Bakugou for a moment as if awoken from a trance by the feeling of the hot ceramic held tightly in both hands. Bakugou’s heart does something, but he pushes it to the corner of his mind and scoffs and looks down at his feet. “You don’t owe him shit, IcyHot, and if what Fuyumi and stupid Deku said -” he starts to raise his voice, getting angry all over again thinking about the nerd and Todoroki’s sister encouraging him to just ‘forgive and forget’ a lifetime of pain inflicted by the narcissistic piece of shit excuse for a hero -
“Come with me.” Todoroki suddenly says quietly but firmly, interrupting the thoughts thrashing about in Bakugou’s brain. Bakugou’s eyes widen this time, and he meets Todoroki’s over the cup of tea.
“Come with you,” he repeats, apparently stuck on stupid.
“To dinner,” Todoroki continues patiently, as if Bakugou is an idiot doing his very best. “Tomorrow night -”
“Why would I wanna do that?” Bakugou grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. Todoroki looks as if he’s trying to think of a reason, and Bakugou turns on his heel. “Whatever. I’ll be there. Fuckin…better be something good,” he grumbles. And just as suddenly as he entered the room, he leaves. Closes the door a bit too quietly for his liking, and the childish part of him wants to open it again so he can slam it, but he can’t think of a reason to, so he continues back to his own room and spends half the night lying in bed staring at the ceiling and half of it working out in an effort to take his mind off of what his mind shouldn’t even be on in the first place. Stupid Half-n-Half.
The next day passes in a blur. Bakugou kicks ass, obviously, despite his lack of sleep. He throws himself 100% into their patrol, if for no other reason than to keep his mind from wandering. Luckily Midoriya, too seems to have fully emerged himself into their training that day, so Bakugou doesn’t have to suffer through too much of his never-ending rambling and over-analysis of every move he made that day when they return to the agency. The nerd seems to be distracted by his phone pinging, and Bakugou can’t decide if the idea of it being his mother or Uraraka that he’s texting back with such urgency is more pathetic.
He goes back to his room before Deku can question why he didn’t want dinner, and showers quickly. Picks his clothes out with only slightly more attention to detail than usual. Totally doesn’t cycle through a few different options for any reason except that the first pair of trousers he picked were too wrinkled and the first shirt had a weird closet smell lingering and the third shirt was just…not what he fuckin’ felt like wearing. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he can’t help but feel satisfied with his reflection. His hair looks more wild than it even normally does, and he decided on black jeans that actually stay around his hips and a black sweatshirt. He throws a slightly oversized dark green military jacket on top, and he does not think about how he feels like he’s getting ready to go out on a date.
When Bakugou gets to Todoroki’s door, he is immediately incensed by how long it takes for him to open the door. He thinks, for a second, that the dumbass forgot he was coming with him (they have not spoken about the evening since the night before), so he begins banging on the door with more urgency. He is mid-knock when the door opens suddenly, and his fist is suddenly wrapped in…Todoroki’s palm. Ah. He stands shocked for a second before pulling away with a start, shoving his hand into his jacket’s pocket, and stepping around Todoroki into the room.
“I was in the shower,” Todoroki offers as an excuse, as if Bakugou hadn’t noticed his hair literally still dripping down his shoulders, or how his white undershirt clung damply to his broad shoulders. Or how he still wore a towel wrapped around his waist. Bakugou needs to sit down. He leans back into the chair at the desk and kicks his feet up on it, as casually as he can with Todoroki standing there, still wet. In his towel. “I’ll just be a minute,” Todoroki continues, and Bakugou hears him rummaging around in the chest of drawers, hears him pull open the doors to the closet. Hears the damp towel hit the ground. He doesn’t swallow hard at the sound, and it doesn’t cross his mind whether or not the other boy was already wearing underneath it. He waits to turn around until he hears Todoroki clear his throat a few minutes later. The younger man stands awkwardly in front of him, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waits. He’s wearing a button down and nice dark jeans, a dark red knit sweater layered on top. It hangs a little on his form, and it never ceases to bewilder Bakugou how a rich boy who turns the head of every person in his vicinity somehow never manages to wear clothes that fit him. It bewilders him even more how good it looks.
“Let’s fuckin’ go, then,” Bakugou growls, pushing himself up unceremoniously, walking out without turning to see if Todoroki is padding after him. They make their way downstairs and out onto the sidewalk where Endeavor already has a car waiting for them. Bakugou waits a beat, letting Todoroki get in first, and as he slides into the backseat he is shocked and darkly pleased to see that Endeavor is sitting in the passenger seat. He is almost giddy at the look of naked shock in Endeavor’s eyes as he meets Bakugou’s eyes in the rearview mirror. The hero turns in his seat to stare at Bakugou, and Bakugou meets him with a wicked grin.
“Hey, Pops.” Flames flare out around the man’s perimeter, and Bakugou almost laughs. Pathetic, he thinks. This is the guy who’s supposed to be mentoring us and he can’t even control his own damn quirk. Todoroki sits quietly next to him, barely uttering a greeting, and stays silent throughout their entire drive to the restaurant. Endeavor continues to simmer in the front seat, staring determinedly out the windshield. Bakugou stares daggers into the back of his seat and doesn’t dare look at Todoroki. It fuels his own fire how a simple dinner invite - no, the mere presence of Endeavor - is enough to turn Todoroki into stone. The boy who got into UA on recommendation alone, flew to the top of the class only using half of his abilities, who can be incensed into battle with little to no provocation, who always seems to be so damn unaffected by everything…sitting like a scared kid in the backseat of a town car.
When they arrive at the restaurant, Bakugou scoffs, having expected more than a simple hole in the wall from the number one hero. They are seated immediately, and it’s almost amusing how out of place Endeavor looks, his hulking form completely overtaking the humble wooden chair he’s seated himself in across from Bakugou, who has slumped himself into the corner of the booth, and Todoroki who is sitting straight like a board next to him. Bakugou can feel the nervous energy emanating from his classmate’s body just as strongly as he can feel his heat. A small part of him wants to touch him. Wants to reach into the stupidly oversized arm holes in his sweater, grab his hand under the table. But he doesn’t. He slumps further against the wall, and pretends he doesn’t feel their thighs touch as he skims over the menu.
They order, udon noodles for Todoroki and a spicy shrimp dish for Bakugou. Endeavor orders a stiff drink with his own meal, and begins sipping it before it even touches the table.
“So, Shouto. You and Bakugou are good friends, then?” He asks through a tight-lipped smile. Todoroki starts to open his mouth but then his eyes slide over to Bakugou and something clenches around his heart when he realizes he’s probably hesitating thinking of the last time he dared to claim Bakugou as his friend in front of someone.
“Yeah,” Bakugou answers instead, loudly. He smirks and throws an arm uncharacteristically around Todoroki’s shoulders. “Best friends, really.” He feels Todoroki’s body tense even more, if that’s possible, and he squeezes his arm subtly, part of him feeling strangely relieved when some of the tension dissipates from the boy next to him. He feels Todoroki let out a long exhale.
Endeavor grunts a response and takes another long sip from his glass. He glares hard at Bakugou and then forcefully softens his gaze as it falls on his son. “Aizawa treating you well?” Todoroki nods politely, then realizes he should speak.
“Yes, he’s surprisingly perceptive and insightful.” He offers a small smile across the table, Bakugou refrains from rolling his eyes as he sucks some edamame out of their pods. He lets his arm fall from Todoroki’s shoulder and tries not to think about the moment when his fingers graze Todoroki’s lower back on the way down.
The awkward silences are long and frequent as Endeavor seemingly racks his brain for relatable topics to bring up. He asks about Christmas, name drops other professors at the school, skirts around AllMight as much as possible. All questions anyone a journalist or really any random extra on an elevator could ask, Bakugou thinks as their food arrives and gives them an excuse to not talk. Bakugou devours his food which he begrudgingly has to admit is fucking delicious. He notices Todoroki slowly eating his own food, and scowls to himself. He can tell - don’t ask how - that he’s only eating it to be polite, and it reinvigorates the hatred he has toward Endeavor. Granted, Todoroki will eat practically anything cooked or even half-cooked, but the place doesn’t even have one soba dish. If Bakugou were going to take Todoroki out to eat - for some fucking reason - he’d at least make sure they had his favorite meal. Liking cold soba is practically his only character trait, and his own father doesn’t know that?
“Have you spoken to your mother lately?” Endeavor asks. His voice is deceptively casual, as if he had rehearsed this part of the conversation earlier. Todoroki falters, his chopsticks slipping from his fingers. His eyes slowly rise from his bowl, and Bakugou stops breathing for a beat. He nearly drops his own chopsticks when he feels a hand on his knee, fingers digging into the flesh through the denim there, hard. He drops one of his own hands down and hesitates for a second before covering Todoroki’s with his own. A gentle squeeze he hopes reads as comforting, and then he watches Todoroki carefully as he opens his mouth and closes it again twice before any sound comes out.
“I don’t…want to speak about my mother, Endeavor.” Todoroki responds, and Bakugou swears he feels the hand gripping his thigh turn cold. Endeavor looks appropriately shut down, but nevertheless pursues the topic.
“Shouto. I’m only asking if -”
“Shut it, old man,” Bakugou suddenly grits out after having remained silent since his first interjection earlier in the evening. “Shouto doesn’t want to talk about it.” Endeavor fixes Bakugou with a harsh glare, but Bakugou returns it with just as much of his own fire, if not more, until he sighs and smiles tight-lipped at his son.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Shouto.” Bakugou can hear Todoroki breathing in and out meditatively beside him, and watches as he forces another smile at his father. Bakugou zones out as Todoroki segues the conversation into asking about an old family friend. He lets himself daydream about pressing his thumbs into Endeavor’s eye sockets, or shooting a carefully aimed explosion right down his throat. Burning him up from the inside.
When they’ve finished eating and Bakugou is praising his own mental strength for allowing him to endure the evening, they file out onto the sidewalk and Endeavor pauses and gives Todoroki a very abrupt and incredibly uncomfortable-looking hug. Bakugou stands to the side, repulsed, waiting impatiently for the old man to release his classmate.
“Thanks for dinner, Pops,” Bakugou calls out over his shoulder, and he grabs Todoroki’s wrist and begins pulling him down the sidewalk.
“Wait. Where are you two going? The car will -”
“Thanks but no thanks,” Bakugou shouts, Todoroki trailing behind him. “We’re gonna walk. Nice night, ya know?” Todoroki glances over his shoulder and offers Endeavor a reassuring smile and a wave as he lets Bakugou tug him away.
“Walking?” Todoroki asks softly, once they’re out of earshot, leaving Endeavor staring confused down the street at them as they walk in the wrong direction. “This isn’t the way back…and aren’t you cold?”
Bakugou huffs out a laugh. “I’m fine, Halfie. Rather be cold than sit in that goddamn car with him again. And we’re taking the scenic route.” Todoroki says nothing but falls into place almost-but-not-quite next to Bakugou, and it does not occur to Bakugou that he can probably drop his stronghold on the boy’s wrist now. Todoroki does not speak up, so they remain attached for a few meters longer, before Bakugou realizes with a start and drops his arm. Just as quickly, Todoroki catches his hand, his pinkie finger latching onto Bakugou’s, and then inches his palm against Bakugou’s. Bakugou’s mind reels, but he doesn’t move to pull away again, even as he feels Todoroki’s eyes on him. He ignores the heat of his gaze until he can’t anymore, the cold of his hand and the fire in his eyes all too much. How does Todoroki constantly wrestle with all that ice and heat inside of him? “Watch where you’re going or don’t get mad at me for laughing when you bust ass.”
Todoroki huffs out a laugh and looks down at the sidewalk for a minute before his eyes return to the side of Bakugou’s face.
“Thanks, Bakugou,” he finally says softly. Bakugou pretends not to hear him and continues walking. “I’m glad you were there.” Bakugou grunts in response, and does not acknowledge the small smile that lights up Todoroki’s face, or the tightening of Todoroki’s hold on his hand. He also does not acknowledge the way it all makes his chest tighten. Ardently does not question why he hasn’t blown Todoroki’s hand off already, or why he hasn’t even felt the urge to do so. Focuses instead, once again, on the safe familiarity of the unexplained but justified rage that fills his stomach when he thinks about Endeavor.
They make quick work of the rest of the walk, spending the majority of it in a comfortable silence. Todoroki stops staring at him, and he stops thinking about how Todoroki staring at him makes him feel. He absolutely does not catalogue all of the physical interaction they have had tonight, and he does not commit to memory the way the pads of Todoroki’s fingertips felt pressing into the thick muscles of his thigh. He does not think about the flush that’s remained in Todoroki’s cheeks since they left the restaurant, or the way his wrist somehow felt so tiny encircled in his fingers despite him being just as built as Bakugou.
When they arrive at the agency and climb the stairs to the dorm rooms, Bakugou does not turn to Todoroki to revisit the evening, to say goodnight, to acknowledge him at all. He had decided on the walk over that this was the best course of action. However Todoroki had obviously not come to the same conclusion, and Bakugou hears his soft footsteps still behind him as he approaches his own door. He turns slowly, hand on the doorknob, and stares at the - slightly - taller boy.
Todoroki looks nervous again, but in a different way than earlier. He tilts his head in a way that causes the red of his hair to fall into his face, and looks at Bakugou carefully.
“D’you want some tea?”
Bakugou nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Tea?”
“Tea.”
They stand there staring at each other like they’ve recently landed on this planet and have only learned one word and yet don’t quite understand it. Bakugou drops his hand from the doorknob, and turns on his heel to fully face Todoroki.
“Whatever,” he grumbles, and follows Todoroki to his own door again as he thinks about how unnatural it is that he’s now been inside of his temporary dorm more times in 24 hours than he’s ever even seen Todoroki’s dorm at UA.
The damp towel Todoroki had been wearing earlier is draped over the closet door, and Bakugou for some ungodly reason flushes when he sees it. He stands uncomfortably in the middle of the room after he’s gracelessly kicked his shoes off, and watches as Todoroki sets up the electric kettle and busies himself with preparing their cups. He looks calm as he goes about his routine, but something feels off and Bakugou feels that inexplicable fury bubbling up once again in the pit of his stomach. Since when did he give a fuck about Todoroki’s mental health? But here he is, worrying about the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way his shoulders are a little stiffer than normal. The way he seems oddly focused on every minuscule movement he’s making when he normally travels through life painfully aloof. Todoroki moves about the room as if he had wandered in by mistake, as if he’d watched a video on how to Make Tea Like a Human Boy but has to keep reminding himself of the next step. It makes Bakugo want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
“I want to fucking kill him.” The words tumble out of Bakugou’s mouth before he can stop them. And he doesn’t care, even when Todoroki nearly drops the tin of tea he’s holding. Bakugou shucks his jacket off, throws himself onto Todoroki’s bed, and leans against the wall. He watches as Todoroki regains his composure and slowly finishes with whatever he’s fucking around with and then finally turns toward Bakugou. “I’d blow his ass straight to hell. You just wait, Half-n-Half. When I’m the number one hero, that’s the first thing I’m gonna fuckin’ do.”
Todoroki looks vaguely amused as he makes his way to the bed, sits gingerly at the edge next to Bakugou’s feet. He studies Bakugou’s face for a beat, and then inches his way back until he’s sitting right next to him, leaning his head against the wall in a near-perfect mimicry of the blond.
“Why wait until you’re the number one hero?”
“I want to crush his ego first,” Bakugo prattles on. “That’s all he cares about. So I’m gonna take his spot, make sure it sets in that he fucking sucks, and then I’ll kill him.”
“Makes sense,” Todoroki nods slowly, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Normally Bakugo would fly off at him for laughing at him, condescending to him. But tonight it makes him feel…warm…making Todoroki smile.
“I don’t know if I’d even wanna use my quirk,” he muses, almost to himself. “Might be more satisfying to just do it with my bare hands.”
“Bakugou.” Todoroki says softly, looking directly at him with an odd, curious expression on his face. “Why do you even care so much?” Bakugo feels all of the blood drain from his face. He feels weirdly caught, and his brain is instinctively telling him to go full on fight-or-flight. He wants to fire back with a retort. Wants to tell him to fuck himself, wants to send off an explosion or two and walk out of the room, leave Todoroki with his stupid tea kettle boiling, slam the door, and never have to look at his ridiculous eyes again.
But there’s something vulnerable in his expression, and for some reason Bakugou can hear that old lady from Nabu Island talking about how lonely it must be for a kid to grow up without their parents around in the back of his head, and he thinks how, fuck, it had to have been even worse for Todoroki, having his sorry excuse for a father around at all. And then his eyes are on Todoroki’s half-parted lips and then on his scar which he shouldn’t even know about and - He turns his head to face him and the next thing he knows he’s pressing his lips against Todoroki’s, softer and gentler than he’s ever done anything in his whole goddamn life. He feels Todoroki’s quick, sharp intake of air and his hand moves on its own accord, coming up to grip Todoroki’s jaw, to hold him there. Todoroki doesn’t quite kiss back as much as he just lets Bakugou kiss him. It pisses Bakugou off but he also feels an overwhelming sense of relief. Because if he’s kissing Todoroki, he can’t talk, and if he can’t talk then he doesn’t have to answer his question that he doesn’t even have an answer to.
So naturally, his short-term plan is to just keep kissing him. Keep both of their mouths occupied for as long as possible. No questions, no responses. Just those warm, too-soft lips on his, and they’re finally parting and he seems to have a vague grasp on the concept of kissing now, because now he’s moving his lips against Bakugou’s, and the cheeky fucker even darts his tongue out, and what’s Bakugou really supposed to do besides take that as a challenge? So he sucks on it, eliciting the cutest, stupidest sound from the boy, and it takes every ounce of willpower in his body not to just climb him, cover his body with his own, push his hands into the sleeves of Todoroki’s sweater to join his own. He opens his eyes enough to find Todoroki looking at him, half-lidded, and for some reason that’s incentive to deepen the kiss. And god if that’s not all it takes to throw all of that willpower out the window. He’s practically kneeling now, almost straddling Todoroki, trapping him between the mattress and the wall and his body as he licks into his mouth, continues cupping his face with one hand, and prays for it all not to end. Because fuck it feels good, feels right, and besides - what happens if it stops? When it stops?
As if the universe is playing a well-timed joke on him, the tea kettle starts to whistle, and Todoroki’s body tenses beneath him. Bakugo stops abruptly, and throws himself back onto the mattress into his original position. Tries to consciously control his breathing, tries to act like he didn’t just half-shove his tongue down his fated rival’s throat. Like he didn’t just accompany him on the most awkward father-son dinner ever and then make out with him immediately after describing his pipe dream of murdering his father.
Todoroki climbs back off the bed, busies himself at the table again pouring their tea, as if nothing happened. Bakugo pointedly keeps his eyes off of him and is busy practicing being Normal when Todoroki shuffles back toward the bed with two cups of tea, handing Bakugo one and then perching on the edge of the mattress with his own, one leg folded up underneath him. He looks so poised, and his cheeks are only slightly pink. The sleeves of his stupid sweater cover his knuckles and he’s the absolute picture of warmth and coziness and it makes Bakugo sick. They sit in silence for a long minute, both mulling over their cups that are too hot still to drink from as a distraction from each other.
“So is that what you were thinking about during dinner?” Todoroki suddenly asks, and Bakugo nearly sloshes the hot tea over his fist. “Killing Endeavor,” Todoroki stammers, eyes widening as he seems to realize his mistake. “Is that what you were thinking about?” Bakugo takes a breath to steady himself, his heart hammering in his chest against his will.
“What the fuck else should I have been thinking about? The inane interrogation he was staging over that bland-ass food? He’s a fucking fraud.” Anger was a safe place for him. It calmed his nerves. He could feel himself becoming genuinely comfortable again, anger replacing the tension that was simmering there just seconds ago. “All the shit he put you through, put your siblings through, and he thinks he can make it up just letting you and your friends tag along on his patrols and taking you to a shitty restaurant?”
The corners of Todoroki’s lips twitched in amusement. “Friends, huh? Thought you just said that for his benefit.” He sips his tea, turns a mocking smirk on Bakugo. Bakugo snarls at him over his cup.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t believe I do,” Todoroki teases, quirking his eyebrows up in mock confusion.
“You’re such a dick, IcyHot.” Todoroki grins wider, and Bakugo blames the warmth that floods his chest on the tea. It’s a genuine smile, the kind he doesn’t see often, but has somehow earned so many of in just one night.
“He’s…he’s trying, you know.” Todoroki places his cup on the nightstand and toys with the hem on his sweater, his face suddenly solemn again. Bakugo shifts forward and sets his own cup next to Todoroki’s, and half-crawls down the bed to kneel beside him.
“Yeah, he’s trying. Trying to polish up his image. Trying to fucking gaslight you into thinking he’s a real father.”
“People can change, can’t they? What if he’s just learned from his mistakes? Would it be the worst thing for me to have a second chance at having some kind of family?” His usual monotone has an edge to it now, and Bakugo feels like his skin is alight.
“Don’t be an idiot, Halfie. He’s taking advantage of you. It’s just like shitty Deku said, you’re a ‘good person’.” He says the last bit with a sarcastic inflection, a little meaner than he’d intended. “He knows all he has to do is pay for dinner a few times, throw you some money, and pretend to give a fuck about you for ten minutes and he’ll be in your good graces again.” Todoroki rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond but Bakugo cuts him off, on too much of a tirade to stop now. “That way, when the reporters ask you what it’s like to be the Number One Hero’s son, you won’t say shit. You’ll just tell them how much you love your dear old daddy.”
Todoroki stares at him for a beat, looks like he’s caught between leaving his own room or punching Bakugo in the face, but he doesn’t do either. “You’re an asshole,” he responds quietly. Bakugo is mentally propelled back to the sports festival, incensed over Todoroki refusing to use his fire on him.
“You need to start standing up for yourself against him. I’m not always gonna be around to fuckin’ defend you.” Todoroki’s eyes flare at this, and he whips his head up to look at Bakugo in shock. Finally, Bakugo thinks. A real reaction.
“Defend me? I’ve been doing just fine on my own for the past 16 years, thanks, Bakugo.” He bites back, and Bakugo can’t help but elicit a sarcastic chuckle.
“Fine? You think this” he gestures grandly at Todoroki “is fine?” He sees the hurt flash in the other boy’s eyes and he gets to his feet and paces the space in front of the bed. Todoroki looks absolutely wounded in a way he’s never seen, in a way that grips his heart and twists it painfully. He doesn’t even yell back. Just sits, looking somehow so small there in his oversized sweater, absorbing all of Bakugo’s nasty words. How did this happen? It shouldn’t surprise him that it would go this way considering their track record, but things started off so different tonight. It’s not like Bakugo to care about instigating an argument, but he softens his voice despite himself.
“Listen, it’s your stupid life and your stupid so-called father. But you don’t owe that asshole anything,” He reiterates. “Not dinner, not a text, not a goddamn second chance.” He comes to a stop and sits beside him again, half wondering if he’s about to be physically kicked out. He stares at Todoroki until his mismatched eyes fall on his own, and Bakugo can’t help but think about how unfair it is that he has the same eyes as Endeavor - or at least one of them - but especially when he’s angry and they turn steely and unseeing in their rage. But fuck if Shoto doesn’t wear them better.
“I know what happened, you know,” he nearly whispers. “All of it. Or at least, whatever you told Deku. I was there. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard. And I know stupid Deku thinks it’s forgivable, but I fucking don’t. And it’s none of my fucking business, but since I found out, I.” He swallows, hesitates, but it’s too late to stop. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Wish I could fuckin’. I don’t know. Go back in time. What good is it, being a hero, if you can’t stop shit like that?” He clenches a fist. He can see Todoroki breathing in and out with his whole chest, his face passive but something in his eyes…different. “Can’t even imagine what else he fuckin’ did to you.” His eyes rest on the scar that Bakugo knows wasn’t directly from Endeavor, but always reminds him. He swallows. “I just…you need to take care of yourself. All he’s gonna do is hurt you over and over again. And you can’t - you can’t keep letting him. That shit pisses me off.”
Todoroki continues to stare at him with that odd expression, and Bakugo fidgets under it, trapped by his gaze and the silence. He knows he said too much. Knows he never should have brought any of this bullshit up, or agreed to come in for tea, or even come with them to dinner. Since when does he get involved? Since when does he not only make shit like this his business but then verbally attack the person whose business it is about their business? He drags a hand over his face, exasperated, and plans his exit. He could easily stand up, walk out, and threaten IcyHot with death if he ever opens his mouth about it again. It wouldn’t even be out of left-field. Besides, it’s not like Todoroki talked a whole lot anyway, especially to him. But then the other boy is suddenly leaning in, yanking Bakugo back into the present, one hand on his thigh and the other coming to cover his still-clenched fist.
“You’re right, Bakugo. I know you’re right.” he murmurs, and his face is so close. When did he get so close? His eyes have softened, defenses so quick to go up and come back down. Too quick to forgive. Bakugo is about to shoot off an ‘of course I’m right’ when Todoroki presses a slow, lingering kiss to the tight line of his scowl. It takes a minute before Bakugo can process the feeling of those lips on his again, but when he does he can’t help but to tentatively lean into it. He meets the hand Todoroki placed on his thigh with his own. Todoroki breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away. “Thank you,” he breathes against his lips before closing in on him again.