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“They’re still out there,” Shouto murmurs. He looks away from the classroom door again and back down at his notebook. He starts erasing a word he’d absentmindedly written three times in a row in his essay.
A couple of rows ahead and one column over from him, Bakugou glances over at the door too. His posture stiffens ever so slightly but he goes back to working on his own homework. Shouto notes that he’s using his non-dominant hand—his other one must have fatigued already.
Which makes sense. Their last class ended nearly four hours ago and they’re still here. Still working. Still…avoiding. The sun’s halfway below the horizon.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Shouto admits. He finished his water an hour ago. Hunger is also starting to become a problem.
Bakugou doesn’t look up when he replies. “If you wanna be the first to face the fucking monsters, be my guest. I ain’t coming to save your ass.”
Shouto rolls his eyes. “They’re not monsters. They’re just people.”
“Uh huh. If they’re just people, why the hell are you still holed up in here with me?”
Well. Shouto doesn’t have a reasonable response to that.
Though, it’s not all that unreasonable either. While the moderately terrifying enthusiasm of their fan club, as Denki calls them, has mellowed out into something more respectful and considerate, Valentine’s Day seems to have caused some regression.
The occasion has offered the perfect opportunity for their kouhai to rekindle their rather intense admiration for him and Bakugou. The two of them have spent the whole day racing from class to class, evading, ducking behind pillars and classmates and into storage closets.
Shouto appreciates the sentiment, truly. He’s grateful that they see him as someone worthy of their attention. That they look up to him and Bakugou. But this…feels stifling.
If they want advice and tips for their first year, he’s happy to help. But that’s clearly not what they’re here for today.
The last thing he wants to do is have to turn down a bunch of confessions and break some hearts. It’s awkward and inconvenient. All Shouto wants is to return to their dorm building and eat the batch of homemade chocolates that Satou said he was going to put out for their class tonight.
A glance at the small square window on the door shows several heads still milling about, some Shouto knows weren’t there an hour ago.
“I think they’re taking fucking shifts,” Bakugou grumbles, having noticed too.
Shouto sighs, closing his notebook and slumping back in his chair. He closes his eyes and rubs two fingers into his right temple. He’d like to leave.
“Oi.”
Shouto blinks his eyes open and looks down his nose at Bakugou. He’s turned ninety degrees in his seat and has an arm propped on the back of his chair. From this distance Shouto can’t fully read his expression.
“Can’t believe you’re gonna break first, Halfie.” Oh, he’s amused. “Thought it would be me.”
Shouto huffs through his nose. “Didn’t think you’d ever consider yourself losing at something.”
Bakugou flips him off. “Fuck you.”
Shouto chuckles, closing his eyes again. At least he’s not in this alone. And in a way, it’s been kind of fun doing this with Bakugou again. It's become an odd bonding activity.
There’s a distinct text tone that he knows is Bakugou’s phone. There’s the sound of shifting clothes and the fabric of a backpack.
Then, the click of a tongue. “Deku says they’re saving us dinner but it's going cold,” Bakugou informs. “And, motherfucker, Satou’s chocolates are almost gone! Greedy assholes.”
Shouto’s heart sinks a little. There go his main Valentine’s Day plans. Maybe he’ll go to the store tomorrow to buy the ones on sale. Wary of the muffled sounds still outside the door, Shouto mentally prepares to settle here for the night. He's got survival training. He has another pack of pocky in his bag. Maybe Aizawa-Sensei has a spare sleeping bag or two stashed somewhere…
The dull yet loud thump of palms slapping wood has Shouto sitting bolt-right. Bakugou is on his feet.
“Alright,” he says, “We’ve gotta get the fuck outta here. Now.”
Shouto can’t help but poke. “Looks like you’re breaking first, then?”
Bakugou whirls around with a scowl and a determined set of his jaw. “I’m not fucking breaking. I’m breaking us out. I have a—a plan.”
Intrigued, Shouto straightens further. Bakugou hops on to sit on his desk and kicks his chair to the side.
“C’mere,” he calls to Shouto.
Shouto furrows his brows. “Why?”
Bakugou makes an impatient sound. It could be the sunset streaming through the windows but Shouto swears Bakugou’s cheeks and ears look a bit redder. It adds to his confusion.
“‘Cause I say so.”
“Now that’s just suspect. What’s your plan?”
“Can you just get your ass over here? My desk is just a better—a better view. God I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” The last bit seems to be Bakugou speaking to himself.
Still, Shouto persists. “Are you going to injure me?”
Bakugou deadpans. He tries to come up with something witty to say but resorts to saying, “No, you fucking freak. Can you just trust me? We’ve fought literal wars together. The hell’re you being so paranoid for right now?”
Shouto exhales. Fair enough. But in his defense, he’s had to be on edge all day. His interrogation is warranted. He’s still not sure why Bakugou’s so reluctant to simply share the plan out loud. Shouto relents and goes to him anyway.
His school shoes echo faintly in the near-empty classroom. Upon getting closer, Shouto notes that Bakugou’s face is indeed flushed. he comes to a stop in the empty space with Izuku’s desk behind him.
“What now?” Shouto asks. “Do I sit?”
Bakugou’s throat bobs. “Nah, just, uh. Stand there.”
Shouto obeys. Bakugou stares at him quietly for a moment.
“Do you actually have a plan or were you just bored?”
“Fuck you, ‘course I have a plan, can't you be patient?" Bakugou snaps.
Shouto raises his brows, expectant. This is bizarre. Maybe Bakugou really is breaking. Before he can suggest claiming a medical emergency to rush out of here—which is not actually a terrible idea—Bakugou speaks.
“You trust me, yeah?”
Even though Shouto thought he’d established that was the case when he walked over here, he chooses to answer. “I do.”
Bakugou nods. “Alright. So, here’s the plan.”
Shouto turns attentive, ready to listen. But apparently it’s not his ears he should be readying.
Bakugou’s hand finds the middle of Shouto’s tie and tugs. Shouto stumbles forward a step and then another half to regain his balance. There’s a deep blush high on Bakugou’s cheeks but his gaze is unwavering when they meet Shouto’s.
The pause here is him sharing the plan, Shouto realizes. His brain kicks back in after a momentary glitch. It’s a warning and a question, too. It’s also Shouto’s chance to back off or turn this into a brawl instead, should he wish.
Shouto knows what he wishes. “Kiss me.”
Bakugou’s mouth curves with the start of a grin and takes full form the moment it’s pressed to Shouto’s. His lips are warm and dry; Bakugou must have run out of water too. Bracing his hands on the edge of the desk on either side of Bakugou’s thighs, Shouto kisses back more firmly.
He has no idea how any of this works but if the soft sound Bakugou makes is anything to go by, he’s doing something right.
Beyond the door, there’s chatter and exclamations—of surprise or disappointment, Shouto isn’t sure. But he also doesn't really care. At all.
They kiss, then they kiss again. Then again, with their heads tilted the other way. They part briefly for air. Eager for more, Shouto falls back in but misses Bakugou’s mouth and catches his cheek instead.
“Fucking finally,” Bakugou says, slightly breathless. He’s looking at the door. “They’re finally leaving.”
Oh. Right. The plan. This was simply the plan. This was—
“Where the fuck’re you going?”
Shouto blinks at Bakugou, then down at the fist still gripping his tie. It’s being pulled taut as Shouto starts to back away.
“Wasn’t this plan so that we can leave?”
A look of hurt flashes in Bakugou’s eyes but then the unyielding fire flares up in them once more.
“Yeah, but I ain’t done with you yet. Fucking kiss me some more, you bastard. Unless you, uh, don’t wanna—“
Shouto doesn’t let him finish his sentence.
The sun fully sets. It’s only when the security robots make a sweep of the building and kick them out do they eventually leave the classroom.
Bakugou leads the way and Shouto follows, frequently glancing at their joined hands. They pass the occasional group of students scattered about campus, speaking in hushed whispers at the sight of them. Shouto smiles, giddy and excited at this new development.
“I was thinking,” he says, when they’re almost back to the dorms. “Valentine’s day chocolates are going to be on sale tomorrow. Would you like to go buy some with me?”
Bakugou looks back over his shoulder with an annoyed look. For a second, Shouto worries he misunderstood this entire thing.
“Fuck that shit,” Bakugou says. “I’m gonna make you my recipe, from scratch. None’a that store bought crap, ya hear me? You can help if you wanna but—actually, no. Stay outta my way. Your job is to eat them and like them, got it?”
Shouto’s heart flutters, his chest brimming with a rush of newfound affection. “Got it.”