Chapter Text
Bakugo Katsuki hates the cold— The damp-soggy weather, the slippery streets, the blizzards and everything in-between those words. He hated the way it turned his sweat to ice before it could even trigger a blast. He hated how it muffled the world, making everything soft and quiet when he's lived his life at a hundred decibels. Most of all, he hated how it made his joints stiff and his Quirk feel like a rusty engine.
He stood under the flickering amber hum of the streetlamp, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a coat that wasn't nearly thick enough. Every breath he exhaled was a jagged white cloud. He was the Number Five Hero, a man who could level a city block with a flick of his wrist, and here he was— rendered useless and nearly immobilized by a bunch of frozen water falling from the sky.
And he was here solely because of a "certain idiot", who has promised him of a drink tonight.
The whole day, last patrol of the night had been grueling— a high-speed chase through the damp, slushy streets of Musutafu that left Katsuki's palms feeling like lead. He was ready to bark an insult at the next person who even breathed in his direction. He was exhausted, his Quirk dampened by the humidity, and all he wanted was a hot shower and a bed. But then there was Shoto, still in his hero suit since they somehow collided paths while tracking a villain, looking up at the greyish-white sky with that look in his eyes then back at Katsuki— that one look that made him look less like a pillar of society and more like the boy Katsuki had known at UA.
"Dynamight..." Shoto had said, his voice quiet against the wind, the softest of smiles on his lips anyone has ever caught a glimpse of.
"Fancy a drink?"
Katsuki knew what "a drink" meant. It wasn't about the alcohol or getting drunk. It was the preamble to the snow-pact, Shoto Todoroki's never been a 'scheduled meeting on a calendar' person... It's a simple tug, a slight pull. It's Shoto's quiet, persistent, child-like 'demand' that acts like a tether for Bakugo... whenever Shoto wants, whenever it's snowing hard enough.
And the fact that Shoto— usually so composed and stoic-becomes like a "little child" when it comes to the snow is a side too scarce, something only Katsuki's been granted the access of. And Katsuki, himself, for all his grumbling, yelling profanities and "I hate the cold" posturing, is a total softie for that— specific, rare, babyish smile that only he has ever been privileged to see.
(A breathtaking sight— one that had sparked a fire in Katsuki's heart 11 years ago, keeping him warm through every winter since...)