Work Text:
The ceiling swirled above his head, champagne jagged locks lay on the cold comfort of his old pillow, unsatisfactorily smelling like his highschool cologne. Something wretched, thick waves of smokedwood and pepper. He punched a clenched fist into the satin pillow case burying his face in hope of something else, but his scent was long faded.
The packed box still sat on his bedroom floor, containing nothing more than a few changes of clothing. Bakugou had packed light, he didn't need souvenirs from his trip up north, the ass kickings he gave was enough.
The alarm buzzed, with the reflexes of a cat he smashed it to bits, pieces flying off clattering into the wall. A soft knock rang through his bedroom door.
“Katsuki, sweetheart,” his mother spoke oddly soft, “YOU BETTER GET UP NOW Endeavor doesn't just let anyone join his group. I swear to god you better not disappoint him,” her voice faded out. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but he hadn't had time to fill out an apartment lease, coming home no more than a day ago.
“I’M GOING,” Bakugou shouted back, he slinked his hand around his case, slamming every door along his path through the home. He hadn't even had the time to reach out to Kirishima.
The train clattered along, the city looked the same, but the rock in his gut was new. The north was beautiful, sure, but there was no real competition. The year he spent felt like a waste, the puny villains there were no real challenge, standing no chance. Anyone standing after an AP Shot was felled quickly with Howitzer Impact. What was the point, he snarled at his own reflection in the train window striking fear into the heart of the child a seat ahead, their eyes glued on the hero.
Now that he was back he was going to show everyone what a real hero looked like.
His mind drifted to thoughts of what a true hero might be, "Damn Deku.” His soft freckled cheeks wandered through his mind, “Why does he always have to be in my thoughts? Focus, Katsuki. You're better than this." His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, trying to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay. His heart pounded in his chest, betraying the calm façade he tried to maintain.
The brutalist architecture of Endeavors agency stuck out against the shifting color of the sky, diminishing pink hues fading to blue. Bakugou pushed through the people crowding the street, ignoring the twisting knot in his stomach and hastily made his way to the elevator, slamming his finger into the button to go up. When the doors opened he was greeted with the heavy familiar scent of the crowded room. Each hero meticulously worked like bees in a hive, navigating the blaring sound of the phones, conversations lapped over conversations.
His head drowned in the sound as he stepped into the cluster.
“Ah, Bakugou,” the familiar yet punchable face of Onima appeared from the chaos, “or rather, Great Explosion Murder-”
“Yeah yeah, whatdya want,” Bakugou pushed past, cutting him off.
“Ah- er, well we've got you set up with a partner when you're ready.” Onima replied. Bakugou took a sharp turn.
“I don’t need a partner,” he snarled, “what makes you think I need a partner?”
“Well, it was at Endeavor's behest, kind of a requirement for new guys,” Onima directed him inward towards a stygian door along the wall, “this way if you will.”
With a groan Bakugou made his way, more than rudely nudging past other heroes taking notes, buzzing around. Heat building in his palms as his fingers tightened around the case. He didn't need others, they were just liabilities bound to get in his way.
Slamming the door open his nose was flooded with a familiar scent, something soft, glaringly different from the average hero. Chamomile.
A curly head of evergreen locks sat across the room murmuring to himself like always, he jumped at the startling noise, silly crooked hands jousting a teacup. Bakugou's heart leapt, skipping more than a few beats. For a moment his world froze as his eyes looked over that beguiling familiar smile.
Onima stepped in behind Bakugou, "Endeavor figured since you two work so well together you two would be a great starting out pair”
Deku raised a hand, wretched and scarred to all hell, “Hey, Kacchan.” Blood pumped through his ears easily drowning out the background noise of the agency, only cut through by his velvet words.
Bakugou took in a breath, “control yourself, he’s nobody but competition,” and gave an off kilter smile through sheer force. His heart thudded hard against his chest, threatening to break all over again over some curly sheep ass boy with no quirk.
“Well, when you head out, Deku already has the details,” Onima waved, shutting the door behind him.
Bakugou waited for the door to be shut before sparks fired through his fingers, exploding through a clenched first, “What, you request me?” He slammed the case with his costume down, “You stalked me waiting for me to get back in town so you could corner me?” He raised his voice, Deku kept sipping the rest of the tea, “you think YOU CAN BEAT ME??” Bakugou carried on, threats blurred together before Deku interrupted, cutting through the chaos.
“Kacchan!” He set the empty cup down, waiting for Bakugou to settle his anger into a blood red glare, “I didn’t know when you’d be back, no one did except the higher ups,” he paused a moment to stand, “but I’m glad your back.” He smiled that same old smile.
Bakugou's fingers still tingled, but if Deku was anything he wasn't a liar. He folded his arm in a huff, "Yeah right.”
“Get your hero suit on, I have the patrol route right here,” Deku slipped a piece of paper from his pocket, folded and half crumpled. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby then we should head off,” he patted Bakugou’s stiff shoulders on the way out.
Bakugou wasted no time slipping into his old gear, it felt good to hold his gauntlets again. Patrol route, had he done this before? He gritted his teeth thinking of Deku galavanting around town with some other fake ass hero. Slipping back through the crowd and into the elevator, as it plummeted his chest shifted.
It had been so long since he had seen Deku, and even longer since they had worked together. No doubt he had been with other heroes. Fuck. But also so long since he’s had a good competitor, his lips shifted into a smile.
The elevator shifted to a stop, through the metal reflective doors he caught himself smiling, making sure to quickly wipe it off his face. He didn't need to be smiling about Deku.
At the front door Deku greeted him with a smile, waving to him.
Bakugou pushed past, “Yeah yeah, where do we need to go?”
Deku followed behind, unfurling the crumpled paper, “A few blocks down then we turn.”
Bakugou snatched the papers from his fingers, took one glance at it before throwing it behind him the edges of the paper singed.
“Lets go then,” Bakugo picked up the pace in a slight jog to get the blood pumping, Deku not far behind.
They began their meandering, walking along the designated street paths, peaking into alleys, and the other standard hero duty, only occasionally brushing fans away. They were impeding their job anyways.
The streets lit up as the sun rose overhead, the day had carried on quiet, Deku occasionally making small talk to be violently shut up by Bakugou, Deku still wearing that smug ass smile across his face.
The quandary boiled over, “How was the North? What was it like?” Bakugo mocked, “So you just been running around with some other fucking heroes?” He stopped in his tracks, Deku turning to face him.
Deku's mouth opened as if he meant to speak but froze, but his eyes drifted to Bakugou’s shoes, “I- it wasn't like that.”
Bakugou laughed intentionally loud, “So you fucking were.”
“You left,” Deku interrupted before Bakugou could continue, “You. Left.” His gaze now held Bakugou’s, a knot formed in his throat blocking any words.
His eyes fluttered as heat built in his cheeks. It was an impulsive decision and he regretted it from the moment he submitted the temporary transfer form. He tried to take it back, nearly smashing his phone to bits in frustration when he got the decline email for withdrawal.
Deku's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before shifting to an almost pitiful momentary glance. “I’m glad you came back,” his voice quiet, the corners of his mouth turning up in a soft, genuine smile.
Was Bakugou that easy to read?
“Now, come on,” Deku said enthusiastically, “We have a job to do,” before turning and continuing down the path.
Tiring feet took a stop at a street food stand, Deku handing over the cash easily to pay for Bakugou's meal, handing him a delectably warm paper bowl.
“Thanks I guess,” Bakugou scowled, scarfing the yakisoba down, there was no time to stall when criminals needed a beating.
As if on cue an awful guttural sound filled the streets as a car came crumbling to a stop. A figure in black corroded robes darting from the scene. Bakugou and Deku shared a quick glance before slamming the food down, the noodles would have to wait.
Bakugou bolted into the air, propelled by thundering explosions behind him, Deku not far behind, darting between traffic and fleeing people alike. The growing discord of frightened passerbys began to crescendo as the side of a building began to crumble, the hooded figure dipping under the falling rubble and into the alley, Bakugou not far behind.
Deku made quick to gather the people at possible risk, quickly moving them to safety before the crumbling metal beams slid into a growing conglomerate of melting metal.
Bakugo turned the alley, his target in sight, the hooded figure squished between him and the concrete wall that separated them, a rabbit in a trap.
The figure held out a hand as if to calm the ever enraging Bakugou, it did nothing to calm the raging storm beyond his blood red eyes. Heat building in his palms in anticipation.
“Stop right there,” a quiet but sturdy voice rose out, his hand hoovered the building next to him, the other clutching a suitcase overflowing with bills and jewelry.
Bakugou stopped for no one, “Howitzer Impact!” He charged forward, warmth bursting from his palms leaving a trail of smoke behind the building power.
But before his attack could hit the mysterious figures hand connected with the building next door, like rot spreading through a festering wound the metal sparked to life, bubbled and boiling under the steel before bursting in clouds of rust, the structure burst, leaning to one side. But he wasn't fast enough.
Bakugou's open palm connected with the figure, launching him back into the concrete wall behind. Deku sprung up over his shoulder, fist pulled back screaming his catch phrase, “Detroit Smash!” A swirl of air followed him with intent.
His fist smashing through a cloud of rust and into the concrete behind, sending ripples of cracks through the wall, glass panes bursting out of walls like confetti.
Before either could rationalize the events the building groaned, Deku’s danger sense tingled sending shivers down his spine. Before the dust could begin to settle the mess of rust reformed from the crumbling metal around. As if made of sand the villain dissipated into a shifting cloud, jostling from its vulnerable position. Flowing between them like a dissolved river of rouge a fist reaching through, reforming from the cloud of particles behind them.
“Kacchan,” Deku shoved, with a glance Bakugou could see the pale fingers of the villain connect with Deku’s chest. His heart stopped.
Without thinking his fist moved towards the reforming cloud of rust, there was no time for a move.
Bakugou’s fist connected to something solid, through the cluster a figure burst on the other side of the haze, hood fallen back he could finally make the face of the villain out.
Pale and drawn, deep brown eyes glared up from a messy cluster of red and brown hair that ended in jagged fragmenting tips. The villain was quick to grab the handle of the stolen case, as if on cue the rust reformed around their figure consuming the villain's form. Deku swung another fist into the dissipating remnants of rust fruitlessly. The miasma of rust quickly dipping around the corner of the alley back out into the street.
Without skipping a beat they bound the corner, cars in the hazes wake left rotting rusted corpses. People were fleeing to the other side of the street, grasping at cellphones and watches as they crumbled in their hands. Windows were crumbling to the ground as their frames collapsed under their own weight.
Bakugou, not far behind the shifting cloud, even with Deku bolting to get people from the wreckage of the cars still keeping up. He needed to go faster, his fingers sizzling in their gauntlet, pushing farther. Throwing a fist forward, taking only a second to aim, AP Shot.
Ripping through the shifting morph locks of tangled red and brown stumbling forward like a fucking klutz.
Turning the figure leapt towards Bakugou, fingers outstretched screaming for touch. Palms together, he focused, Stun Grenade.
No one would be standing after a blast this close.
Cold fingers reached through the flames, clasping around his gauntlet, his face pressed back, lips flapping in the flurry of flames, hair and scruffled beard were singed from the blast.
Before his tangle of limbs and burnt clothes collapsed backwards, Bakugo's gauntlets felt light, loose even. Fuck.
Within seconds the metal crumbled under his fists, bursting outward, rust collecting like a growing mound at the villain's feet. Leaned up on a now crumbling car.
“You fucker,” Bakugou lept forward, fists covered in nothing but the thin black fabric. The villain struggling to beat out Bakugo in speed placed a hand on the shambled remnants of the car, his body dissipating within a moment, rust like smoke slipping under the car.
Bakugou's fist connected with the remnants of the car where the red headed bastard had been moments before, smashing through the crumbling metal, jagged edges slicing through his flesh.
Ripping his fist out, his skin was tangled in crumbled shards of metal, Deku catching up with a huff, his face draining quickly of color, Bakugou averted his eyes, there was a villain to catch, no time to stop. Pain rippled through his arm, as he clenched his fist, growing warmer with the prominent growing flow of blood. He dare not look down, only forward.
Deku's brow furrowed, glimmering streaks of lightning illuminating his flesh, murmuring again to himself he shot forward, Bakugou’s eyes struggled to keep up.
The ground shook as Deku leapt forward quickly to follow the shifting cloud, he dipped in and out between the wreckage of cars and other metal scrap. Catching up to the villain with such speed nearly leaping through the rust conglomerate.
Bakugou re-angeled his good fist before launching himself forward, he was not going to be outshined, even without his gauntlets and down an arm.
Blackwhip tore through the mess of rust, the suitcase flying off in a direction before a pale leg yanked forth. With a quick snap the villain's ragged visage smashed into the middle of the street away from anything metal, the rust cloud struggling to keep up.
Before Bakugou could react, blackwhip wrapped the villain in a tight cocoon. He screamed and struggled against the binds, reaching out for anything metal, Deku quickly used blackwhip to tuck any loose appendage away.
Bakugou stumbled forward with a sigh of relief, sirens picking up in the background, his arm throbbing more than ever. With a cursory glance his flesh lay mangled with shreds of metal overlaid with a thick glaze of blood.
He balled his good fist smashing it into the villain's gut, “You're lucky I didn't catch you first!” He kicked the dirt, “I woulda ripped your fucking arms off myself.”
“Kacchan,” Deku placed a warm hand on Bakugo's shoulder, “you okay?” The rage once filling his gaze faded from his eyes, softening them, now focused on his shredded arm.
Bakugou pulled away, shielding his arm from Deku’s view, “Lets get this fucker locked up then I’ll be okay”
Uniformed men gathered, blurring between the red flashes of blinding lights, pale bandages, and the police scrambling to get the alternative cuffs after Deku explained the situation. It felt like only a moment before it was just Bakugou and Deku, alone again on the empty street. Goal accomplished I guess.
“Gah!” Bakugo kicked a piece of scrap metal, “I just wish I could have punched that fucker some more,” Bakugou’s face began to burn, he could have done more, should have. If he was hurt so easily how quickly could things have changed? Deku had been hurt enough, what if-
Deku laughed, leaning up against the cold concrete wall just inside the alley, fidgeting with his gloves, “You punched him enough Kacchan.”
“You really fucking think that?” He was outshinned, captured and stolen by some soft smiling prick.
“You did-”
Bakugou slammed his good fist into the wall by Deku's head, “Did I?”
Time froze as he glared into his eyes. He’d never admit this but there was depth in them, you could spend a lifetime consumed by them.
Deku’s eyes fluttered, heat rising in his cheeks, “Did I?” Bakugou’s voice broke, softer now, an actual question on his lips.
He was exhausted, he was always exhausted. Deku's hand sneaked up to pull him in, his shoulder warm, the comforting scent he had grown to love drowning his lungs. Overwhelming, almost suffocating chamomile soaked green consuming his mind.
Deku's hands embraced him, a moment of comfort. Bakugou moved without thought, tugged at the edges of his shirt. He wanted him, he was no one else's, he needed him to know, for everyone to know. He buried his face in the crook of Deku's neck.
“Kacchan, we, were-” Deku stumbled over his words, “I- it’s just, you're hurt.”
But Bakugou didn't let him finish, tongue scouring any available flesh, if his skin was a flavor it would be his favorite. Deku lost his words quickly, fingers intertwining his champagne hair, static building like poprocks on your tongue sending bolts of warmth through Deku’s fingers.
With a quick glance the now stirring public walked by, not privy to their activities, cellphones in hand, shutters going off as they oogled the damage before moving on with their days.
Bakugou backed off for a moment, eyeing Deku with intent, savoring the salt and sweat on his tongue. Before clumsily flipping him towards the wall, it was a lot harder than he thought, down an arm and all.
“Kacchan-” Deku whispered, face pressed to frigid concrete.
“Ssh,” Bakugo pressed himself to Deku, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, bubbling heat between him.
His fingers on his good arm felt over his hips, cool polyester blend soft, then over the ridges of his red hero belt. It wasn't all too different from his own, with a quick click he quickly made his way over his hip bone. He buried his head back in his neck, swath of curls tickling his nose.
Bakugou felt a tug at his own suit, something curled up his leg, an unfamiliar, yet notable feeling. Blackwhip fumbled about, but Bakugou beat him to it. Bakugou’s fingers made their way down, tugging at the elastic band of his shorts, fingers lost in the untamed mess of Dekus pubes, then to his thick hard shaft, thicker than he remembered. But that wasn't a bad thing.
Deku moaned softly as he moved his fingers down to the tip, a comfortable grip around his cock, stroking the delicate velvet skin. His skin felt like fire, pain now numbing his damaged arm he worked his way through Deku’s skin tight suit, over his taut abs and to his chest, small fires crackling between them.
Bakugou’s hand stroked faster, lips dancing over the nape of Deku's neck now better exposed, Blackwhip tightened around his own shaft, his knees bubbled, nearly falling forward into Deku.
Bakugou lost his patience, pulling back sticky fingers still in his waistband he pulled down Deku's pants just enough. With his lame hand he fumbled the rest of his belt, quickly pulling out his own hard cock. They didn't have lube so spit would have to work in a pinch.
He adjected the tip, Deku’s soft moans growing louder, “Shut it,” Bakugo tried to whisper through gritted teeth, “I’ll be gentle ‘kay?”
Pushing his hips out, Deku bracing himself against the sturdy wall, Bakugou wrapped his fingers around the curves of his waist, pulling him in closer, pushing in just the tip, drowning in Deku’s soft moans, quiet enough only he could hear them. A delicacy of intimacy only he would enjoy.
But Deku couldn't keep too quiet, soft moans quickly picking up in volume he wrapped his fingers around his mouth, lips pressed against the back of Dekus nape, nose trailing to the crook of his neck, teeth against his soft flesh.
Deeper and deeper with each thrust, Deku’s hard body easily picking up his rhythm, moving with his hip, Bakugou’s teeth clamped around his shoulder sending chills quickly swirling into euphoria. Bakugou could feel Deku's lips part, taking in a deep gasp. Bakugou’s teeth gripped harder, the sweet taste of blood filling his mouth. Quickening each thrust, Blackwhip wrapped itself around Bakugou’s waist picking up the pace.
Bakugou’s fingers slipped back down around Deku’s cock, thumb slipping over the tip, then down the shaft.
“Kacchan,” Deku whispered into the concrete wall between thrusts, his words like honey to Bakugou.
“Louder,” Bakugou said through gritted teeth, he wanted the world to know, he bit his lip, pleasure flowing through every thrust. It had been too long since his name was sewn into every moan of Deku’s, he needed to make up for it.
Deku whimpered, glancing towards the busy street but Bakugou didn't back down, on the edge of ecstasy, the pace quickening between them, “Say it,” Bakugou's voice commanding, trying to mask his desperation.
Deku bit his lip, out with a breathy groan before he gave in, “Kacchan~” his tone more than loud enough to draw the attention of onlookers.
Bakugou's knees trembled, head falling into Deku’s shoulder, with one final thrust he let out an unwilling moan from somewhere deep, his vocal cords acting on their own. Wildfire burned between them, Bakugou coming hard. Deku not far behind, Bakugou’s fingers still wrapped around Deku’s cock, now soaked in cum.
For a moment the world stood still, nothing but the sweet sounds of Deku’s exhausted breath.
Deku made quick to refasten his belt, adjusting his suit, turning to a still fuzzy Bakugou, “Here,” his pale gloves clasped Bakugou’s black belt, pulling him back together.
“We uhm,” Deku motioned back towards the street, “probably should get back to work.”
Acting without thought Bakugou leaned towards Deku, lips colliding together he slipped his good hand into Deku’s mess of curls. To Bakugou’s surprise Deku embraced him, his hands slipped around Bakugou’s waist pulling him in closer, each tongue embracing the other. Every bone in Bakugou’s body missed this.
Releasing his lips Bakugou turned to the few gawkers that peaked around the alley, “Aye, fuck off.”
Deku gave a sympathetic wave, “He was just, uh, helping me,” he paused as if erring out.
“Helping him mind his own business, you should do the same” Bakugou finished his sentence clenching his fiery fist, the audience dissipated quickly.
Rounding the corner Deku bumped Bakugou gently, looking up to him with his indulgent freckled smile, “I don’t know if I said this before, but I'm glad you came back.”
Bakugou, against his better will, smiled earnestly back, “Same.”