Stop taking everyone out to lunch just 'cause they fill your merch quota.
[He snorts like it'll somehow give him back some dignity. Jesus. The hand comes off the door, and he straightens up just in time for Midoriya to smooch him, and he's left hanging, wanting more, feeling frustrated because of it.
The same hand rubs his face and then the back of his neck under the collar of the shirt. They might not back it to the gala.] You're not going to a damn funeral, Deku.
[He waves two fingers back and forth, a parting, trying to get Midoriya to unbutton the jacket and keep it that way.] Open. Otherwise, you look stiff as fuck. Like jet legs.
I'm surprised you're not wearing your dumbass uniform beneath it. [It wouldn't work, but he also wouldn't put it past Midoriya. Besides, he just likes to tease Midoriya about being such a nerd with all of their hero things. Not just the merchandise. Them in general.]
Come here. I'm not gonna be seen going in with a disaster.
[He just wants Midoriya to be within touching distance is all.]
No one lets me pay for anything of you guys, so I have to do something.
[ Everyone folds eventually under the thousand megawatt Deku smile and him earnestly asking them if they'd tell him about their quirk and how they got started doing that job. He's nothing if not determinedly earnest and uses it to his full advantage when he can. The funeral comment gets a raised eyebrow, but he flicks open the jacket obediently and eyes himself in the mirror. His hair is a lost cause; he smears a palmful of goop into a hand and works it through the mess which at least tames some of the curls. ]
I really do want to wear your jacket but I'd get in so much trouble. [ His publicist would murder him and he's not entirely sure what Bakugou's would do when their client's rival is just...earnestly repping him, but he's not going to find out. He can behave, mostly. One final look in the mirror and then Midoriya turns and goes where he's instructed, shamelessly pressing a kiss where shirt ends and throat begins. ]
I know you're not thrilled about this, but...selfishly, I like it. Seeing you and everyone else, sure dressed up and...I don't know. It's just nice. It's proof we made it. One goal down and now onto the next. Sometimes it's all I can think about, just...just being happy that you're here, that we're both here right now. It's nice, that's all.
[ Jokes on you, Midoriya's ready to cry at ANY MOMENT over how happy he is. ]
[Everyone knows Deku is the one hero who will rep other heroes somehow, but Bakugou wonders if Midoriya will get in trouble anyway for having those damn socks and that damn tie.
Carefully, Bakugou straightens everything out, makes sure the tie isn't atrocious, that there's no lint or fuzz or hair on the shoulders. He can't do anything with Midoriya's head either, so he doesn't even try.] Alright, can the stupid ass sap before I vomit. [But knowing it's sap just means he had been listening to everything, that he heard it.
Both hands return to his pockets. He peers at Midoriya with a look that doesn't say a whole lot, though it's lengthy enough to maybe be a consideration. It's not the first time he realizes just how much the nerd filled out. A little taller than him now, and he hates it. Broader, too, but balanced. Not so top heavy as he is, something more streamlined and well-rounded. Something decidedly attractive. (He hates it.) A nice goal to look at while trying to stay in front.
There's barely anything to make fun of Midoriya for now except being soft-hearted and nerdy, or doing heroic dumbass shit.] Here.
[One hand comes out of his pocket, and the fingers unfurl between them to show what's in his palm: a tie pin of All Might from the waist up, flexing. It's small enough to be modest, but big enough to be seen face-to-face. He doesn't mind if All Might is holding "him" down. He needs it usually.]
I won't let you rep everyone else and not one of the greatest heroes we've ever known.
[ He'd like to see them try to get him in trouble. He's still dressed in a gratuitously expensive suit and he looks fine. There are always some who want to say something about how heroes should dress drab and boring and Midoriya thinks that's a whole load of shit. Heroes are supposed to save people but also make people smile and they can't do that if they're taking themselves so seriously.
Midoriya stands obediently while he's fussed over, resisting the urge to lean in for kisses. This close, though, he gets to watch Bakugou's studious face, gets to wonder what it is going on in his head, what he's thinking. Nervously, Midoriya's head ducks and he smooths his hands down the front of Bakugou's suit to keep his hands out of the way. ]
Here?
[ It's a curious echo as he waits for Bakugou to pull out what he's got, and then he sees it and Bakugou's pinning it into him. There's no way he can be expected not to tear up at this, because it's perfect and Bakugou fucking ruins him every time there are these little moments of thought and consideration. His lip trembles, and then he's very delicately leaning his forehead against Bakugou's shoulder. Pathetically, though it's clear he's laughing a little despite his eyes welling up: ]
[GEEZ. He's here trying to keep Midoriya from the waterworks and now look. They just come, and he hates it. (What doesn't he hate?)]
Oi! [His voice is still low, but gains that typical gravel when he's usually getting ready to growl a bunch of displeasure.] What the fuck? Cut it the hell out, Deku.
[He drops his shoulder away and instead reaches up to catch Midoriya's chin in a hand, lift the head up and squeeze the cheeks with his fingers.] You fucking being a crybaby? Who said I was gonna let you go into a hero gala with a dumbass red face and tears in your eyes?
How you think that's gonna fucking look on me? [He keeps Midoriya's face pinned; the other hand reaches inside the jacket and rummages around.] I can't believe you have all this bullshit merch, but don't even have a goddamn handkerchief. [The one that gets smushed onto Midoriya's face is plain and white, but effective, and he lets go of Midoriya's chin.]
[ He's two seconds from crying at any given moment and Bakugou should absolutely be used to this at this point. He lets himself get manhanded around, his face ridiculous as Bakugou grabs at his cheeks and holds him in place. He's only a little teary, welling up but not spilling over and smiling like a fucking lunatic despite it. ]
I do, but I don't want to get them dirty.
[ He grabs for the handkerchief and dabs delicately at his eyes like he's in mourning or something absurd, and then folds it up neatly and shamelessly steals it because out of the two of them he's far more likely to get weepy at any given moment. After he's sure he's not going to make a mess or get tears on him, Midoriya leans up against him and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. ]
Thanks, Kacchan. You really are the best.
[ But they do have to go and Midoriya knows that. He keeps fiddling with the tie pin, fingers grazing over it lightly every few minutes like he can't quite believe it's there, that Bakugou got him something this cool and useful. ]
[Okay, of course, he accepts the kiss, but the compliment again gets a low snort. It's probably now less he feels dirty getting complimented by a rival, by Deku, and more he wants to earn the fucking compliments.
Not that he didn't earn it doing a good deed. Semantics.]
We're gonna be fucking late, and it's gonna be your damn fault. [The hand that slips against Midoriya's back does rub up along the plane of it before it gives a small push, a kind of go-on nudge.] Your car is gonna leave you.
You should have just come to my damn apartment in your outfit, idiot. [He waits until they're out further toward the way they entered, when Midoriya isn't thinking about the pin or the merch or All Might or being nice.
He sweeps his hand up to jerk Midoriya back gently by the face and neck, planting a firm and hungry kiss on the lips. It counts just because he said he wasn't going to kiss a crybaby, and Midoriya isn't crying right this minute.] Don't embarrass yourself, or I'll remind everyone in an interview.
[ Wait shut UP Midoriya, they'll just get distracted if they know they have enough time. Determined, Midoriya gives one last lingering look to Bakugou's mouth and promises himself he's going to get plenty of kisses after. The little hand nudge gets him to move and he snags his shoes, heading for the front door. He could have come in the suit but at this point he knows better. With his luck he would have run into someone doing something and ruined his suit.
He's 99% sure that's why his agency sends cars at this point. Less and ways for things to go wrong if they're on the road, arguably. Once he toes his shoes on and comes back up he's dragged into another searing hot kiss, melting into it. It takes every ounce of self-control not to deepen it further or grope at Bakugou a little bit and muss him up. He settles for clasping at his lapels and draws in a shaky breath, smiling. ]
Ride with me. But you gotta keep your seatbelt on and hands to yourself.
[Honestly, Midoriya probably shouldn't hold him by the lapels. It feels like a headbutt of dominance, and it just riles him up more. It's worse when it's Izuku Midoriya. They've always had a rivalry.
It'll always be the flame under his feet.] You were the one talking about getting into fucking trouble for wearing my damn jacket. [He snakes two hands beneath the suit jacket and brushes the rough palms over Midoriya's lower back--maybe curls his fingers into the shirt to lightly wrinkle it.] Now you want the two of us to show up and get out together?
Your ass is gonna be dead fucking meat. You, getting out of the car with the hero who's gonna put you straight into second place?
[Yeah, Midoriya's publicist is going to murder him in cold blood.]
[ The smile goes from sunny to a little smirk, challenging. He knows, he absolutely knows, and he likes pushing Bakugou's buttons when and where he can because he can do that now and he likes their rivalry. Likes how it's evolved from when they were kids.
Bakugou is right, though. Midoriya isn't the best at caring about everything that his publicist cares about. Getting out of a car to an event with Uraraka or another girl is going to launch a series of rumors about who is dating who and while it doesn't happen as much with men there are still things they have to contend with. But he wants Bakugou to come with him, regardless. This nebulous thing where they fight together, they have sex, they hang out, it's all good but Midoriya also wouldn't mind more when it comes down to it.
The thing is he doesn't know if that's what Bakugou wants. ]
Think of it as...I dunno, a show of good sportsmanship.
[ He's cheating now, leaning in closer, walking his fingers up from Bakugou's waist to his shoulders, sliding his hand under the jacket, over the vest, coming in close. ]
There's nothing quite as important to him than fairness in rivalry. It's why he got so mad before, still gets so mad, when people don't take him seriously and fight him with all they've got. When they don't bring to the table something that forces him to earn it. Something challenging.
He hates to lose, but hell, he'll take losing any day over having an opponent draw back power.]
You little shit. [He smashes his forehead gently, but a tad painfully, into Midoriya's own. Stares with a hard, leveled red gaze.] I'm gonna kill you.
[Both hands draw back. Instead, he pushes them up between them and captures Midoriya's face between the palms. He isn't holding back when he kisses this time. It's hungry and wanting, hard. Lip bruising. He takes what he wants, turns a foot between Midoriya's ankles and drops his weight forward, pins Midoriya to the wall.
He keeps kissing until he thinks he might strangle from lack of air, and only then does he draw back, chest quietly heaving.]
If you don't fucking go now, I'm going to blast every inch of this goddamn thousand dollar suit off your body, and I'm going to scorch that whole shitty couch while I fuck you into the springs.
[ He knows he's won when Bakugou headbutts him. A little ow! escapes through his smile but then because it's Bakugou, of course it escalates. Rough hands cup his face and Midoriya leans into the kiss, parting his lips instantly so he can return it. What he doesn't expect is being pushed back into the wall, kissed within an inch of his life.
It's impossible not to give as good as he gets; Midoriya arches against him and grabs the nape of his neck because that's about the only safe place to touch right now, but he pushes a thigh between Bakugou's legs and shamelessly grinds up against his cock just once before pulling back. He's not panting, but it's close, and he does have to adjust himself in his pants when it's done. ]
Okay. Okay, okay, okay, alright, no more of this or I'm gonna let you.
[ God. Midoriya exhales shakily and slips back, ushering them both out of the apartment before he really does do something that gets his publicist to murder him. ]
[Yet again, he's smelling sweet, and it's overpowering the cologne. Because of course he's sweating. Of course he has to shove his hand into the pocket of his pants and adjust himself for the second time. Pray that the hardon has disappeared by the time they're stepping out of the car at the gala.]
Fucking go then.
[He half wrestles, half lets Midoriya wrestle him out of the door; they fight over it much like they fight over everything else. What's worse: showing up at the gala in disheveled clothes, together, or not showing up at the gala at all period? Together.
He actually wouldn't give a shit if he got in trouble. (Of course.) But he would one hundred percent take the blame, not unlike how quickly he spoke up about forcing Midoriya to fight him in the street so long ago.
Whatever. The gala. He'll get Midoriya afterward, looking like a fucking snack in that damn shitty ass suit.]
[ The gala is fun despite everything. It's a chance to get all dressed up and eat fancy food and see all of his friends again when he doesn't always see them so often, scattered across Japan. They pose for pictures and say enthusiastic hellos to each other; Midoriya's pretty sure that there's going to be a photo of him hugging and picking up Iida, Uraraka, Tsuyu and Todoroki in a massive hug all at the same time just because he can. Class A is effectively a living nightmare for the people in charge of them, but it could always be worse.
In the dinner hall surrounding the stage there are around a hundred different circular tables with names already set up. After the mixing and mingling, they get ushered in and spend a solid ten minutes where none of them are sitting where they're supposed to, all caught up in different conversations until a harried-looking organizer asks them please, sit in their seats.
Midoriya settles into his and bumps his shoulder into Iida playfully. When Bakugou sits down he gives him an innocent enough look and then once the table skirt hides it, slides a hand over his knee and up just high enough that it's teasing, fingers dragging lazily along the inseam of Bakugou's thigh while he sips champagne with the other hand and holds a conversation with someone across the table. ]
[Arriving, unfortunately, just means he’s met with exactly what he expects: people shocked he even came. Well, classmates. They can’t believe Bakugou is here much less here dressed to the nines. Kirishima had called him twice to double check, then texted him several times while they were on the way to make extra sure. Then Kirishima texted Midoriya to see if Midoriya would vouch, as if Bakugou would actually lie.
Being greeted now is vastly different than when they just entered school. Everyome gave him a wide berth, naturally, except one red-haired and one electric idiot. He was unstable, angry, sour. No one wanted to be around him, a far cry from middle school when everyone stuck to his ass. Here, now, at the gala, they understand Bakugou’s boundaries, his motives. They aren’t afraid to gently tease him, pick him up, compliment him. He hates all of it, but suffers it with nothing except a lot of curses and ear-smoke.
To say he didn’t enjoy seeing everyone, Kirishima, Kaminari, Tokoyami even, the girls, would be wrong. Everyone is growing on him. Reminding him how fragile his place, his rise to Number One can be. Anyone can challenge it, take it. This refreshes his drive.
At the table, at dinner, he grabs Midoriya’s teasing, sneaky hand by the wrist and squeezes warningly... but he doesn’t push the hand away. He doesn’t even keep it in one place, simply allows his fingers to rest on the arm as it goes, as it makes the cut muscles beneath grow stiff along the thigh. He won’t look at Midoriya, though he’s also trying not to talk to anyone else, especially not Poptart Splitz on his other side. He can’t. He’ll blush. He won’t be able to focus, and it’s better trying to focus on the fingers that keep drawing heat to his lower stomach.
In the leg of his pants, Midoriya can feel him, trapped and mildly hard, and he’s going to have to sit here until he gets soft, and he’s going to need to pray they don’t have to stand to bow.]
You’re pushing it, Deku... [It’s a low, growling whisper cutting into Midoriya’s conversation.] How many of those fruity fucking things have you had already?
[ They're still young Midoriya has to remind himself. They're still young and they're not Hawks, or All Might, and they don't need to follow their footsteps exactly to be successful. They'll dig their own paths out and make their way to number one and Midoriya is certain of it. They've come too far to do anything else but be successful. Besides, events like this just make him even more excited to get there, to work as hard as possible. Watching people on the stage giving speeches can be kind of boring when it's clearly just directed at the press and going over things they already know, but then the food starts coming out and Midoriya's stomach growls.
Thank you so much, he tells the waiter cheerfully like he doesn't have a hand two inches from Bakugou's cock under the table skirt, like he's not threatening (promising?) to be borderline indecent.
It is still the hero gala and while his hand is hidden he won't risk anything too much. It's splitting hairs at this point given that his hand is still against the inside of Bakugou's thigh but he doesn't dip any higher to grope at his cock no matter how much he wants to. He'll behave, mostly, keeping it to the intimate little brushes of his fingers. The soup comes and he sets his champagne down, picking up his spoon. ]
Only two, Kacchan.
[ The intimacy of touching the inside of his thigh is one thing, but even more shamelessly, Midoriya slides his hand up a touch and loops their fingertips together so he's just casually holding his hand while they're sitting there, nodding and smiling as someone else asks him something. ]
[Just two he says like that’s nothing for someone like Izuku Midoriya. Technically, it is, but Bakugou still can’t wrap his head about Midoriya’s metabolism. Worse, this means the rubbing of his thigh is one hundred percent intentional and sober. He’s being riled up. It’s working.
His fist squeezes Midoriya’s forearm again. How is he supposed to focus on the food? Gently, jaw squared, eyes only briefly and somewhat half-lidded, he shifts in the seat to rub himself against the fingers and palm. Fuck. A mistake. Almost like it’s Midoriya’s fault, he shoves the hand down toward his knee, but not off, quickly retracts his hand to clench it on top of the table.
Todoroki asks if he’s feeling okay, and all he can do is growl an airy fuck off.
Again, he won’t look at Midoriya. He nearly bends the spoon lifting it, but manages to make due with an attempt at eating. Trying to focus less on his lap and the warm, solid hand settled against his leg, more on the food and his hunger. The stomach hunger. The one. he can actually satiate currently.
He looks either somewhat ill or drunk, and people will probably think it’s the latter. There’s a faint hot flush high on his cheeks, one that peeks just above the collar of his shirt. He’s smelling sweet again. A little.]
[ Izuku Midoriya, actual fucking menace to society but also one Katsuki Bakugou. Tragic.
Bakugou is correct in that it's wholly intentional. There's no one else in the world that makes him like this, wanting to one-up another person in as many ways as humanly possible just to know that he can compete with them. He and Uraraka or Todoroki get pretty bad about it, sure, but they've evened out as time's gone on. With Bakugou, though, it's like all their hard edges are worn smooth but that urge to compete still rises up inside him regardless.
The little hip-rise gets a poorly hidden smile; to anyone else it'd look like he's paying attention to the speeches but he cuts Bakugou a little look at the end of it and blessedly decides to play nice for the time being. Every so often his fingers will stroke down Bakugou's thigh but for the most part he behaves himself, though he's absolutely taking that champagne top off. The tips of his ears are warm and his cheeks are getting there, the little thrill of this rising because Bakugou's not stopping him. At one point he leans over during a break between speakers and presses his lips to Bakugou's ear. ]
[Maybe whispering in his ear with earm and fruity-bubbly breath isn’t the best. He honestly wishes they had never left the apartment. One shoulder hikes up to bump Midoriya in the chin, not exactly a disinterest so much as an attempt to keep his dignity under something which makes him tingle all over. Midoriya hadn’t even fucking said anything remotely dirty!!
The soup is half finished when his hand finally goes back beneath the tablecloth. He gropes a moment—still won’t look at Midoriya—until he can find the other’s hand. He returns the earlier sentiment; threads their fingers together and keeps the hand hostage against his poor, damp palm.
For a bit, he bides his time. Let’s Midoriya carry on, thinking maybe he won’t ever talk back. He even talks just briefly with Todoroki. And then he turns his head to peer fully at Midoriya, to catch the other’s eyes and give a kind of beckoning glance. He squeezes the hand below the table once. Thankfully, he’s mostly settled again now that he can control what Midoriya’s hand is doing.
When Midoriya leans in, he tips his chin and puts his lips over the shell of the other’s ear.] Who do you think sitting at this fucking table wonders what your mouth feels like swallowing them up—besides me?
Is there a hero statistic for the look on your face when you’ve got your mouth open waiting for what I’m gonna put in it?
[ It's not a no or a stop, but they're back to holding hands and Midoriya's content with this for the time being. The second course comes and he picks at some kind of shrimp...situation but truthfully he's too focused on the way Bakugou's fingers are laced in with his. Maybe some people worry about sweaty palms but Midoriya feels like his are constantly clammy and terrible to hold; he almost apologizes for it but bites it back barely.
Things go normally for a while; he only needs one hand to eat and it's nice to catch up with everyone. More than that, there's a ridiculous thrill that goes through him, holding Bakugou's hand in secret. While he realizes a good part of it is probably to keep them behaving, the rest of him feels like a dumb high schooler again, with his crush actually holding his hand. When he's beckoned over, he leans in, and oh, yeah, okay, maybe whispering in Bakugou's ear earlier was a little cruel because his stomach flipflops abruptly and then what he says registers and Midoriya drops his fork straight onto the plate.
Thankfully, it's loud enough around them it's not too bad but everyone stops and looks at him and he flusters further, waving it away. You know him, clumsy, it's fine, everything's fine, don't worry, so sorry. His face is bright red and Uraraka is watching him, her gaze shifting to Bakugou's, eyes narrow and considering but not saying anything. He's fine. It's fine. He's totally cool. Midoriya inhales through his nose and squeezes Bakugou's hand fiercely until he trusts he can keep his shit together. Then, he leans over again because they're both terrible and no one is sitting between them to stop them.
He's not...great at dirty talk, in his mind. He's good at observational talk during sex, because that comes easily to him but actual, intentional dirty talk is... well. He's working on it. It takes a solid few seconds for him to steady himself and figure out how to word this so he doesn't die of embarrassment, but: ] Does it matter what anyone else thinks when the only one I think about going down on is you?
[Though bothered by a lot of what Midoriya is doing to him in punlic, he isn’t bothered by squaring up to someone actually looking, seeing. Not that Uraraka can see his hardon, their hands clasped. (Shit, he didn’t even consider if someone had a quirk that could. Fuck! What paparazzi wouldn’t invest in x-ray vision?)
Whatever. He doesn’t flinch under Uraraka’s scrutinizing gaze. In fact, he keeps staring in her direction when Midoriya whispers to him again. Geez. He’s going to have to work more magic, not that he thinks he can save this nerd. It’s... a little endearing. That Midoriya struggles with something he can excel at. Great.
Best At Dirty Talk.] Pathetic. [Finally, his eyes drop to Midoriya. About time he has the upper hand. His lips tip toward Midoriya’s cheek and ear.] You could’a at least fucking said the only cock you love squeezing your lips around is mine. [They are pushing their luck so much. Iida is telling then to stop whispering impolitely during speeches. He wants to give the middle finger; instead he gives Midoriya something else:] You’re going outside with me after during the fucking break.
You’re gonna regret making my dick hard under this table.
[ He had about ten total minutes of being able to handle this without blushing like hell and now that's over, because Bakugou called his fucking bluff and he's trying not to wither away but also pay attention at the same time. Multitasking. It's fine. He's fine. This is totally fine. It's a double standard to be talking about how he won't blow him in the bathroom but he's sitting here borderline dirty talking at the fucking dinner table and he knows he's going to pay for it later.
Maybe his commentary was a little too...honest, though. He'd meant it as a compliment, but now he's over-thinking it. It's not a declaration of love or anything ridiculous, but that's probably not the thing you say to your friend-rival-thing with benefits, right? Is that weird? He feels like it's weird. Maybe it's not. Maybe maybe maybe-
Midoriya sits straight up as soon as Bakugou finishes and yeah, there's no way he's hiding his blush, determinedly looking at his plate as he mechanically shovels food into his mouth to keep from saying anything else and to at least play at not being a disaster of a human being. Iida gives him a look for the faux-politeness and he shrugs, like he's not the one who instigated this, sort of. Sorry he mouths and only twenty percent means it. Maybe ten.
Someone else is giving a speech and he tries his best to pay attention but all he can think about is the promise-threat and how he feels like he's burning and he can smell, faintly, Bakugou's cologne. He never should have sat next to him, they knew better. Midoriya cups his water glass and takes a long drink and then dares to lean back in his seat, voice low but not leaning in so Iida crawl across the table and shake them. ]
I don't think I will.
[ Regret it, that is. Besides, he's half-hard in his pants too, though he's doing his level best to stay focused on literally anything else but that. ]
[On the other hand--not the one clasped finger-tight under the table with Midoriya's own--Bakugou can barely eat anything. He's hungry, but the hunger feels deeper than simply food consumption. It isn't about the delicious meal painstakingly prepared for them. It isn't a hunger he can satiate so easily.
It's soul food?
It's a burning, hard pressure in the center of his chest, and he's not half as red as Midoriya, but close enough. The two of them look absolutely ridiculous sitting straight, Midoriya, and slumped away, Bakugou, linked together by two arms weirdly disappearing below the tablecloth by their thighs.
From across the table, Kirishima finally kicks him in the shin to get his attention. The sharp teeth are on full display when Kirishima grins big, and then the guy makes pointed motions at the food on the plate. Not for himself, of course. Bakugou's eyes drop to his own. To everyone else, though not Midoriya probably, not Kirishima, he looks angry and sour. But the exact expression isn't anger. It's worry, uncertainty.
The fingers around Midoriya's hand squeezes faintly before drawing away. They're damp, but warm and red from holding, and he rubs the back of his neck after bringing the arm out of the tablecloth.
No one is talking again yet. The low lull of conversation feels safer. He turns and gets out of his chair, except toward Todoroki so he doesn't have to see Midoriya's large, round eyes peering up at him with concern and confusion. There's no glancing back, not to anyone, even when he can feel some eyes on him, following him down along between the tables and seats--it looks like he's headed for the bathrooms but there's a corner of a hallway and after he's around it, he's out of sight.]
[ He's been distracted enough times and had to force himself to eat that this isn't too bad. He can shovel appetizers into his mouth while people talk to him, at him, and not make too much of an ass of himself. Bakugou's barely touched his and while it was kind of cute at first, it's actually a little concerning because Midoriya doesn't know if it's because of the teasing or something else.
No one's paying attention to them in the dim lit room, he's relatively certain but then Kirishima manages to get Bakugou's attention and is smiling not unlike the shark he's compared to often. Midoriya ducks his head and focuses on those shrimp again, letting the hand slip away. Maybe this is the turning point, right? Maybe this is where he'll decide that they're doing this to rile each other up, so why not do it...for real? Bakugou isn't huge on the public displays of affection thing as far as he can tell, but Midoriya likes the idea of thinking boyfriend, or holding his hand at stupid movies.
Bakugou shoves up from the table and leaves, which normally would be explained by a bathroom break if it weren't for everything else. Midoriya sits straight in his chair a few moments longer, glancing over to watch him go, torn between following and letting him do whatever he needs. In the instant Bakugou's gone, though, Uraraka kicks him, seated next to Kirishima and mouths WHAT WAS THAT. A glance at Kirishima reveals raised eyebrows.
Okay.
Maybe not as subtle as he thought. He shrugs and times it, but if Bakugou's not back in a reasonable amount of time to pee he's excusing himself and going after him. ]
[Midoriya has a wait which grows increasingly more worrisome the longer it continues. Longer than a bathroom break, but not quite long enough to be a total runaway bride.
Bakugou doesn't come back out from the hallway because he's already removed the suit jacket and dropped it on the sill of the tall reception window, uncuffed and rolled up both sleeves to his elbows, shoved his hands into his pockets.
He's got his phone, but it's silent for the event and in his pocket, and he doesn't even think to bring it out to check for the texts he knows he's probably getting, the ones he doesn't want to exactly leave on read. So now he's left with just himself, peering out the window at nothing in particular with the distant thrum of noise from the other room siphoning through the mouth of the hallway.
As surprising at it is, he's patient for the moment. He waits.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-11-19 05:26 am (UTC)[He snorts like it'll somehow give him back some dignity. Jesus. The hand comes off the door, and he straightens up just in time for Midoriya to smooch him, and he's left hanging, wanting more, feeling frustrated because of it.
The same hand rubs his face and then the back of his neck under the collar of the shirt. They might not back it to the gala.] You're not going to a damn funeral, Deku.
[He waves two fingers back and forth, a parting, trying to get Midoriya to unbutton the jacket and keep it that way.] Open. Otherwise, you look stiff as fuck. Like jet legs.
I'm surprised you're not wearing your dumbass uniform beneath it. [It wouldn't work, but he also wouldn't put it past Midoriya. Besides, he just likes to tease Midoriya about being such a nerd with all of their hero things. Not just the merchandise. Them in general.]
Come here. I'm not gonna be seen going in with a disaster.
[He just wants Midoriya to be within touching distance is all.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-19 05:34 am (UTC)[ Everyone folds eventually under the thousand megawatt Deku smile and him earnestly asking them if they'd tell him about their quirk and how they got started doing that job. He's nothing if not determinedly earnest and uses it to his full advantage when he can. The funeral comment gets a raised eyebrow, but he flicks open the jacket obediently and eyes himself in the mirror. His hair is a lost cause; he smears a palmful of goop into a hand and works it through the mess which at least tames some of the curls. ]
I really do want to wear your jacket but I'd get in so much trouble. [ His publicist would murder him and he's not entirely sure what Bakugou's would do when their client's rival is just...earnestly repping him, but he's not going to find out. He can behave, mostly. One final look in the mirror and then Midoriya turns and goes where he's instructed, shamelessly pressing a kiss where shirt ends and throat begins. ]
I know you're not thrilled about this, but...selfishly, I like it. Seeing you and everyone else, sure dressed up and...I don't know. It's just nice. It's proof we made it. One goal down and now onto the next. Sometimes it's all I can think about, just...just being happy that you're here, that we're both here right now. It's nice, that's all.
[ Jokes on you, Midoriya's ready to cry at ANY MOMENT over how happy he is. ]
is all might dead in this continuation RIP..............
Date: 2018-11-19 02:53 pm (UTC)[Everyone knows Deku is the one hero who will rep other heroes somehow, but Bakugou wonders if Midoriya will get in trouble anyway for having those damn socks and that damn tie.
Carefully, Bakugou straightens everything out, makes sure the tie isn't atrocious, that there's no lint or fuzz or hair on the shoulders. He can't do anything with Midoriya's head either, so he doesn't even try.] Alright, can the stupid ass sap before I vomit. [But knowing it's sap just means he had been listening to everything, that he heard it.
Both hands return to his pockets. He peers at Midoriya with a look that doesn't say a whole lot, though it's lengthy enough to maybe be a consideration. It's not the first time he realizes just how much the nerd filled out. A little taller than him now, and he hates it. Broader, too, but balanced. Not so top heavy as he is, something more streamlined and well-rounded. Something decidedly attractive. (He hates it.) A nice goal to look at while trying to stay in front.
There's barely anything to make fun of Midoriya for now except being soft-hearted and nerdy, or doing heroic dumbass shit.] Here.
[One hand comes out of his pocket, and the fingers unfurl between them to show what's in his palm: a tie pin of All Might from the waist up, flexing. It's small enough to be modest, but big enough to be seen face-to-face. He doesn't mind if All Might is holding "him" down. He needs it usually.]
I won't let you rep everyone else and not one of the greatest heroes we've ever known.
OHHH HNOOOO UHHH I'm good with dead or like, retired on a fucking farm.
Date: 2018-11-19 06:10 pm (UTC)Midoriya stands obediently while he's fussed over, resisting the urge to lean in for kisses. This close, though, he gets to watch Bakugou's studious face, gets to wonder what it is going on in his head, what he's thinking. Nervously, Midoriya's head ducks and he smooths his hands down the front of Bakugou's suit to keep his hands out of the way. ]
Here?
[ It's a curious echo as he waits for Bakugou to pull out what he's got, and then he sees it and Bakugou's pinning it into him. There's no way he can be expected not to tear up at this, because it's perfect and Bakugou fucking ruins him every time there are these little moments of thought and consideration. His lip trembles, and then he's very delicately leaning his forehead against Bakugou's shoulder. Pathetically, though it's clear he's laughing a little despite his eyes welling up: ]
I'm not allowed to stain either of our suits.
old toshinori had a farm, e i, e i o
Date: 2018-11-19 08:18 pm (UTC)Oi! [His voice is still low, but gains that typical gravel when he's usually getting ready to growl a bunch of displeasure.] What the fuck? Cut it the hell out, Deku.
[He drops his shoulder away and instead reaches up to catch Midoriya's chin in a hand, lift the head up and squeeze the cheeks with his fingers.] You fucking being a crybaby? Who said I was gonna let you go into a hero gala with a dumbass red face and tears in your eyes?
How you think that's gonna fucking look on me? [He keeps Midoriya's face pinned; the other hand reaches inside the jacket and rummages around.] I can't believe you have all this bullshit merch, but don't even have a goddamn handkerchief. [The one that gets smushed onto Midoriya's face is plain and white, but effective, and he lets go of Midoriya's chin.]
I'm not kissing some stupid nerd who's crying.
LMAO, also midoriya to uraraka later "he had a HANDKERCHIEF" "oh my GOD"
Date: 2018-11-19 08:30 pm (UTC)I do, but I don't want to get them dirty.
[ He grabs for the handkerchief and dabs delicately at his eyes like he's in mourning or something absurd, and then folds it up neatly and shamelessly steals it because out of the two of them he's far more likely to get weepy at any given moment. After he's sure he's not going to make a mess or get tears on him, Midoriya leans up against him and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. ]
Thanks, Kacchan. You really are the best.
[ But they do have to go and Midoriya knows that. He keeps fiddling with the tie pin, fingers grazing over it lightly every few minutes like he can't quite believe it's there, that Bakugou got him something this cool and useful. ]
look... HE'S A JACKASS NOT A SLOPPY MORON
Date: 2018-11-19 09:17 pm (UTC)Not that he didn't earn it doing a good deed. Semantics.]
We're gonna be fucking late, and it's gonna be your damn fault. [The hand that slips against Midoriya's back does rub up along the plane of it before it gives a small push, a kind of go-on nudge.] Your car is gonna leave you.
You should have just come to my damn apartment in your outfit, idiot. [He waits until they're out further toward the way they entered, when Midoriya isn't thinking about the pin or the merch or All Might or being nice.
He sweeps his hand up to jerk Midoriya back gently by the face and neck, planting a firm and hungry kiss on the lips. It counts just because he said he wasn't going to kiss a crybaby, and Midoriya isn't crying right this minute.] Don't embarrass yourself, or I'll remind everyone in an interview.
I'll see you there or whatever.
LMFAO
Date: 2018-11-19 09:30 pm (UTC)[ Wait shut UP Midoriya, they'll just get distracted if they know they have enough time. Determined, Midoriya gives one last lingering look to Bakugou's mouth and promises himself he's going to get plenty of kisses after. The little hand nudge gets him to move and he snags his shoes, heading for the front door. He could have come in the suit but at this point he knows better. With his luck he would have run into someone doing something and ruined his suit.
He's 99% sure that's why his agency sends cars at this point. Less and ways for things to go wrong if they're on the road, arguably. Once he toes his shoes on and comes back up he's dragged into another searing hot kiss, melting into it. It takes every ounce of self-control not to deepen it further or grope at Bakugou a little bit and muss him up. He settles for clasping at his lapels and draws in a shaky breath, smiling. ]
Ride with me. But you gotta keep your seatbelt on and hands to yourself.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-19 10:13 pm (UTC)[Honestly, Midoriya probably shouldn't hold him by the lapels. It feels like a headbutt of dominance, and it just riles him up more. It's worse when it's Izuku Midoriya. They've always had a rivalry.
It'll always be the flame under his feet.] You were the one talking about getting into fucking trouble for wearing my damn jacket. [He snakes two hands beneath the suit jacket and brushes the rough palms over Midoriya's lower back--maybe curls his fingers into the shirt to lightly wrinkle it.] Now you want the two of us to show up and get out together?
Your ass is gonna be dead fucking meat. You, getting out of the car with the hero who's gonna put you straight into second place?
[Yeah, Midoriya's publicist is going to murder him in cold blood.]
lmk if this is ok!!
Date: 2018-11-19 10:20 pm (UTC)[ The smile goes from sunny to a little smirk, challenging. He knows, he absolutely knows, and he likes pushing Bakugou's buttons when and where he can because he can do that now and he likes their rivalry. Likes how it's evolved from when they were kids.
Bakugou is right, though. Midoriya isn't the best at caring about everything that his publicist cares about. Getting out of a car to an event with Uraraka or another girl is going to launch a series of rumors about who is dating who and while it doesn't happen as much with men there are still things they have to contend with. But he wants Bakugou to come with him, regardless. This nebulous thing where they fight together, they have sex, they hang out, it's all good but Midoriya also wouldn't mind more when it comes down to it.
The thing is he doesn't know if that's what Bakugou wants. ]
Think of it as...I dunno, a show of good sportsmanship.
[ He's cheating now, leaning in closer, walking his fingers up from Bakugou's waist to his shoulders, sliding his hand under the jacket, over the vest, coming in close. ]
yes gimme so we can ruin it later with one of them almost dying
Date: 2018-11-19 10:34 pm (UTC)There's nothing quite as important to him than fairness in rivalry. It's why he got so mad before, still gets so mad, when people don't take him seriously and fight him with all they've got. When they don't bring to the table something that forces him to earn it. Something challenging.
He hates to lose, but hell, he'll take losing any day over having an opponent draw back power.]
You little shit. [He smashes his forehead gently, but a tad painfully, into Midoriya's own. Stares with a hard, leveled red gaze.] I'm gonna kill you.
[Both hands draw back. Instead, he pushes them up between them and captures Midoriya's face between the palms. He isn't holding back when he kisses this time. It's hungry and wanting, hard. Lip bruising. He takes what he wants, turns a foot between Midoriya's ankles and drops his weight forward, pins Midoriya to the wall.
He keeps kissing until he thinks he might strangle from lack of air, and only then does he draw back, chest quietly heaving.]
If you don't fucking go now, I'm going to blast every inch of this goddamn thousand dollar suit off your body, and I'm going to scorch that whole shitty couch while I fuck you into the springs.
idiot 20 somethings who are fwb in love but never talk about it, sfklsklfs
Date: 2018-11-19 10:41 pm (UTC)It's impossible not to give as good as he gets; Midoriya arches against him and grabs the nape of his neck because that's about the only safe place to touch right now, but he pushes a thigh between Bakugou's legs and shamelessly grinds up against his cock just once before pulling back. He's not panting, but it's close, and he does have to adjust himself in his pants when it's done. ]
Okay. Okay, okay, okay, alright, no more of this or I'm gonna let you.
[ God. Midoriya exhales shakily and slips back, ushering them both out of the apartment before he really does do something that gets his publicist to murder him. ]
remember when i said he wasnt a moron? i take it back
Date: 2018-11-19 10:53 pm (UTC)Fucking go then.
[He half wrestles, half lets Midoriya wrestle him out of the door; they fight over it much like they fight over everything else. What's worse: showing up at the gala in disheveled clothes, together, or not showing up at the gala at all period? Together.
He actually wouldn't give a shit if he got in trouble. (Of course.) But he would one hundred percent take the blame, not unlike how quickly he spoke up about forcing Midoriya to fight him in the street so long ago.
Whatever. The gala. He'll get Midoriya afterward, looking like a fucking snack in that damn shitty ass suit.]
it's ok deku is horribly moronsexual at this point. also timeskipping.
Date: 2018-11-19 10:59 pm (UTC)In the dinner hall surrounding the stage there are around a hundred different circular tables with names already set up. After the mixing and mingling, they get ushered in and spend a solid ten minutes where none of them are sitting where they're supposed to, all caught up in different conversations until a harried-looking organizer asks them please, sit in their seats.
Midoriya settles into his and bumps his shoulder into Iida playfully. When Bakugou sits down he gives him an innocent enough look and then once the table skirt hides it, slides a hand over his knee and up just high enough that it's teasing, fingers dragging lazily along the inseam of Bakugou's thigh while he sips champagne with the other hand and holds a conversation with someone across the table. ]
looks at the cast. mmm. understandable.
Date: 2018-11-20 12:43 am (UTC)Being greeted now is vastly different than when they just entered school. Everyome gave him a wide berth, naturally, except one red-haired and one electric idiot. He was unstable, angry, sour. No one wanted to be around him, a far cry from middle school when everyone stuck to his ass. Here, now, at the gala, they understand Bakugou’s boundaries, his motives. They aren’t afraid to gently tease him, pick him up, compliment him. He hates all of it, but suffers it with nothing except a lot of curses and ear-smoke.
To say he didn’t enjoy seeing everyone, Kirishima, Kaminari, Tokoyami even, the girls, would be wrong. Everyone is growing on him. Reminding him how fragile his place, his rise to Number One can be. Anyone can challenge it, take it. This refreshes his drive.
At the table, at dinner, he grabs Midoriya’s teasing, sneaky hand by the wrist and squeezes warningly... but he doesn’t push the hand away. He doesn’t even keep it in one place, simply allows his fingers to rest on the arm as it goes, as it makes the cut muscles beneath grow stiff along the thigh. He won’t look at Midoriya, though he’s also trying not to talk to anyone else, especially not Poptart Splitz on his other side. He can’t. He’ll blush. He won’t be able to focus, and it’s better trying to focus on the fingers that keep drawing heat to his lower stomach.
In the leg of his pants, Midoriya can feel him, trapped and mildly hard, and he’s going to have to sit here until he gets soft, and he’s going to need to pray they don’t have to stand to bow.]
You’re pushing it, Deku... [It’s a low, growling whisper cutting into Midoriya’s conversation.] How many of those fruity fucking things have you had already?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 12:56 am (UTC)Thank you so much, he tells the waiter cheerfully like he doesn't have a hand two inches from Bakugou's cock under the table skirt, like he's not threatening (promising?) to be borderline indecent.
It is still the hero gala and while his hand is hidden he won't risk anything too much. It's splitting hairs at this point given that his hand is still against the inside of Bakugou's thigh but he doesn't dip any higher to grope at his cock no matter how much he wants to. He'll behave, mostly, keeping it to the intimate little brushes of his fingers. The soup comes and he sets his champagne down, picking up his spoon. ]
Only two, Kacchan.
[ The intimacy of touching the inside of his thigh is one thing, but even more shamelessly, Midoriya slides his hand up a touch and loops their fingertips together so he's just casually holding his hand while they're sitting there, nodding and smiling as someone else asks him something. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 02:40 am (UTC)[Just two he says like that’s nothing for someone like Izuku Midoriya. Technically, it is, but Bakugou still can’t wrap his head about Midoriya’s metabolism. Worse, this means the rubbing of his thigh is one hundred percent intentional and sober. He’s being riled up. It’s working.
His fist squeezes Midoriya’s forearm again. How is he supposed to focus on the food? Gently, jaw squared, eyes only briefly and somewhat half-lidded, he shifts in the seat to rub himself against the fingers and palm. Fuck. A mistake. Almost like it’s Midoriya’s fault, he shoves the hand down toward his knee, but not off, quickly retracts his hand to clench it on top of the table.
Todoroki asks if he’s feeling okay, and all he can do is growl an airy fuck off.
Again, he won’t look at Midoriya. He nearly bends the spoon lifting it, but manages to make due with an attempt at eating. Trying to focus less on his lap and the warm, solid hand settled against his leg, more on the food and his hunger. The stomach hunger. The one. he can actually satiate currently.
He looks either somewhat ill or drunk, and people will probably think it’s the latter. There’s a faint hot flush high on his cheeks, one that peeks just above the collar of his shirt. He’s smelling sweet again. A little.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 02:49 am (UTC)Bakugou is correct in that it's wholly intentional. There's no one else in the world that makes him like this, wanting to one-up another person in as many ways as humanly possible just to know that he can compete with them. He and Uraraka or Todoroki get pretty bad about it, sure, but they've evened out as time's gone on. With Bakugou, though, it's like all their hard edges are worn smooth but that urge to compete still rises up inside him regardless.
The little hip-rise gets a poorly hidden smile; to anyone else it'd look like he's paying attention to the speeches but he cuts Bakugou a little look at the end of it and blessedly decides to play nice for the time being. Every so often his fingers will stroke down Bakugou's thigh but for the most part he behaves himself, though he's absolutely taking that champagne top off. The tips of his ears are warm and his cheeks are getting there, the little thrill of this rising because Bakugou's not stopping him. At one point he leans over during a break between speakers and presses his lips to Bakugou's ear. ]
You can tell me to cut it out and I will, okay?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 03:13 am (UTC)The soup is half finished when his hand finally goes back beneath the tablecloth. He gropes a moment—still won’t look at Midoriya—until he can find the other’s hand. He returns the earlier sentiment; threads their fingers together and keeps the hand hostage against his poor, damp palm.
For a bit, he bides his time. Let’s Midoriya carry on, thinking maybe he won’t ever talk back. He even talks just briefly with Todoroki. And then he turns his head to peer fully at Midoriya, to catch the other’s eyes and give a kind of beckoning glance. He squeezes the hand below the table once. Thankfully, he’s mostly settled again now that he can control what Midoriya’s hand is doing.
When Midoriya leans in, he tips his chin and puts his lips over the shell of the other’s ear.] Who do you think sitting at this fucking table wonders what your mouth feels like swallowing them up—besides me?
Is there a hero statistic for the look on your face when you’ve got your mouth open waiting for what I’m gonna put in it?
midoriya deadass 2 sec later: i'm going to suck your brains out of your dick if you don't stop
Date: 2018-11-20 03:30 am (UTC)Things go normally for a while; he only needs one hand to eat and it's nice to catch up with everyone. More than that, there's a ridiculous thrill that goes through him, holding Bakugou's hand in secret. While he realizes a good part of it is probably to keep them behaving, the rest of him feels like a dumb high schooler again, with his crush actually holding his hand. When he's beckoned over, he leans in, and oh, yeah, okay, maybe whispering in Bakugou's ear earlier was a little cruel because his stomach flipflops abruptly and then what he says registers and Midoriya drops his fork straight onto the plate.
Thankfully, it's loud enough around them it's not too bad but everyone stops and looks at him and he flusters further, waving it away. You know him, clumsy, it's fine, everything's fine, don't worry, so sorry. His face is bright red and Uraraka is watching him, her gaze shifting to Bakugou's, eyes narrow and considering but not saying anything. He's fine. It's fine. He's totally cool. Midoriya inhales through his nose and squeezes Bakugou's hand fiercely until he trusts he can keep his shit together. Then, he leans over again because they're both terrible and no one is sitting between them to stop them.
He's not...great at dirty talk, in his mind. He's good at observational talk during sex, because that comes easily to him but actual, intentional dirty talk is... well. He's working on it. It takes a solid few seconds for him to steady himself and figure out how to word this so he doesn't die of embarrassment, but: ] Does it matter what anyone else thinks when the only one I think about going down on is you?
i’m hollering THEY ARE AT A GALA WTF [iida hand noises]
Date: 2018-11-20 03:48 am (UTC)Whatever. He doesn’t flinch under Uraraka’s scrutinizing gaze. In fact, he keeps staring in her direction when Midoriya whispers to him again. Geez. He’s going to have to work more magic, not that he thinks he can save this nerd. It’s... a little endearing. That Midoriya struggles with something he can excel at. Great.
Best At Dirty Talk.] Pathetic. [Finally, his eyes drop to Midoriya. About time he has the upper hand. His lips tip toward Midoriya’s cheek and ear.] You could’a at least fucking said the only cock you love squeezing your lips around is mine. [They are pushing their luck so much. Iida is telling then to stop whispering impolitely during speeches. He wants to give the middle finger; instead he gives Midoriya something else:] You’re going outside with me after during the fucking break.
You’re gonna regret making my dick hard under this table.
LMFAOOOO "i cannot take any of you ANYWHERE"
Date: 2018-11-20 04:08 am (UTC)Maybe his commentary was a little too...honest, though. He'd meant it as a compliment, but now he's over-thinking it. It's not a declaration of love or anything ridiculous, but that's probably not the thing you say to your friend-rival-thing with benefits, right? Is that weird? He feels like it's weird. Maybe it's not. Maybe maybe maybe-
Midoriya sits straight up as soon as Bakugou finishes and yeah, there's no way he's hiding his blush, determinedly looking at his plate as he mechanically shovels food into his mouth to keep from saying anything else and to at least play at not being a disaster of a human being. Iida gives him a look for the faux-politeness and he shrugs, like he's not the one who instigated this, sort of. Sorry he mouths and only twenty percent means it. Maybe ten.
Someone else is giving a speech and he tries his best to pay attention but all he can think about is the promise-threat and how he feels like he's burning and he can smell, faintly, Bakugou's cologne. He never should have sat next to him, they knew better. Midoriya cups his water glass and takes a long drink and then dares to lean back in his seat, voice low but not leaning in so Iida crawl across the table and shake them. ]
I don't think I will.
[ Regret it, that is. Besides, he's half-hard in his pants too, though he's doing his level best to stay focused on literally anything else but that. ]
iida is gonna have to seperate them
Date: 2018-11-20 03:58 pm (UTC)It's soul food?
It's a burning, hard pressure in the center of his chest, and he's not half as red as Midoriya, but close enough. The two of them look absolutely ridiculous sitting straight, Midoriya, and slumped away, Bakugou, linked together by two arms weirdly disappearing below the tablecloth by their thighs.
From across the table, Kirishima finally kicks him in the shin to get his attention. The sharp teeth are on full display when Kirishima grins big, and then the guy makes pointed motions at the food on the plate. Not for himself, of course. Bakugou's eyes drop to his own. To everyone else, though not Midoriya probably, not Kirishima, he looks angry and sour. But the exact expression isn't anger. It's worry, uncertainty.
The fingers around Midoriya's hand squeezes faintly before drawing away. They're damp, but warm and red from holding, and he rubs the back of his neck after bringing the arm out of the tablecloth.
No one is talking again yet. The low lull of conversation feels safer. He turns and gets out of his chair, except toward Todoroki so he doesn't have to see Midoriya's large, round eyes peering up at him with concern and confusion. There's no glancing back, not to anyone, even when he can feel some eyes on him, following him down along between the tables and seats--it looks like he's headed for the bathrooms but there's a corner of a hallway and after he's around it, he's out of sight.]
the parent they don't deserve
Date: 2018-11-20 04:57 pm (UTC)No one's paying attention to them in the dim lit room, he's relatively certain but then Kirishima manages to get Bakugou's attention and is smiling not unlike the shark he's compared to often. Midoriya ducks his head and focuses on those shrimp again, letting the hand slip away. Maybe this is the turning point, right? Maybe this is where he'll decide that they're doing this to rile each other up, so why not do it...for real? Bakugou isn't huge on the public displays of affection thing as far as he can tell, but Midoriya likes the idea of thinking boyfriend, or holding his hand at stupid movies.
Bakugou shoves up from the table and leaves, which normally would be explained by a bathroom break if it weren't for everything else. Midoriya sits straight in his chair a few moments longer, glancing over to watch him go, torn between following and letting him do whatever he needs. In the instant Bakugou's gone, though, Uraraka kicks him, seated next to Kirishima and mouths WHAT WAS THAT. A glance at Kirishima reveals raised eyebrows.
Okay.
Maybe not as subtle as he thought. He shrugs and times it, but if Bakugou's not back in a reasonable amount of time to pee he's excusing himself and going after him. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 05:53 pm (UTC)Bakugou doesn't come back out from the hallway because he's already removed the suit jacket and dropped it on the sill of the tall reception window, uncuffed and rolled up both sleeves to his elbows, shoved his hands into his pockets.
He's got his phone, but it's silent for the event and in his pocket, and he doesn't even think to bring it out to check for the texts he knows he's probably getting, the ones he doesn't want to exactly leave on read. So now he's left with just himself, peering out the window at nothing in particular with the distant thrum of noise from the other room siphoning through the mouth of the hallway.
As surprising at it is, he's patient for the moment. He waits.]
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