No Strings Attached [TodoBaku]

A future Twitter thread, posted here first as always!

—

Katsuki paused, setting his pen down and pulling his headphones down around his neck. The room was silent around him, but he waited a little longer, listening. Right as he moved to pull them back up, he heard the noise again – three little knocks, slightly hesitant, not like the idiots he hung out with who just barged in on him unannounced.

He set his pen down and walked to the door, sighing as he cracked it open, careful not to give whoever was interrupting him any space to squeeze their way through. It was almost his bedtime, after all. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna stay up late for some stupid extra who needed homework help or whatever. That was what Four-Eyes was for.

“Hello, Bakugou.”

Katsuki scowled. That stupid red-and-white hair always put him on edge the moment it popped into his view, his blank-faced classmate permanently prepared to get on his last nerve.

“What do you want?”

Shouto raised one hand, holding up his apparent newest purchase, and for a moment Katsuki just stared at him silently.

“I bought a guitar,” Shouto said, as if that was all the explanation he needed.

“I can see that,” Katsuki scowled. “And?”

“And I don’t know how to play it.”

“Sounds like a pretty shitty purchase, then. Good luck.”

He moved to close the door, but Shouto leaned in quickly, pressing enough weight on it to keep it from moving – though he didn’t try to force his way in, at least.

“Can you teach me?” he requested. “I know you mostly play the drums, but Midoriya said you play guitar too, and I thought since you and I are such good friends—”

“No we’re not.”

“—that maybe you’d teach me a little. It doesn’t have to be much.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Bakugou, it’s six o’clock, even you don’t go to bed this early.”

“Fine,” Katsuki huffed. “But I was doing my homework.”

“I’ll buy you one of those fancy cakes you like if you help me.”

“If I wanted a cake I’d get one myself.”

“Spicy ramen?”

“Same deal, idiot.”

“I’ll get Endeavour to write you a glowing review of your internship so you can get into any agency you want in the future.”

“I don’t need your help for that shit, I’m amazing.”

“I’ll admit to everyone that I was a coward who held back during the first-year sports festival and that you were right to complain because I didn’t take my fight with you as seriously as I should have, and that it was the mark of a real hero for you to step up and say that instead of just accepting the easy win.”

Katsuki paused. That did sound kind of good...

“People already know that,” he argued all the same. “It doesn’t mean shit anymore.”

“But don’t you want to hear me say it? To everyone?”

Fuck, the asshole really knew what he was doing.

“I’ll even call you Sensei.”

“Ugh,” Katsuki caved. “One lesson, you can’t complain about shit, and tomorrow you admit it all in front of the whole class. Hell, I’ll get a news crew there. And I’m gonna film it.”

“Deal.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m very excited to learn,” Shouto said flatly, nudging his way inside and sitting himself down on the floor. “I brought some songs I want to play.”

“Hold your horses, asshole, you’ve got a lot to learn before we get to shit like that.”

“Yes, Bakugou-sensei.”

Katsuki’s stomach swirled. Something about that word made him feel...

Powerful. It made him feel powerful, and important. That was it, for sure.

“Fine,” Katsuki said again, sitting himself down on the edge of his bed. “What do you know so far?”

“That I wouldn’t make a very good rock star.”

“That’s not— Fuck it, forget it. Just... Put your fingers like this.”

He demonstrated with his hand, and Shouto copied obediently, putting them on the spots Katsuki directed him to.

“That’s your first chord. Now move them up here.”

Shouto copied again, hanging on Katsuki’s every word, and when he strummed the strings, a little smile broke through his impassive expression.

“It sounds different,” he said.

“That’s the point, idiot.”

“I know, but it’s exciting.”

“You’re weird as fuck.”

Despite his initial objections, Katsuki found he didn’t mind the whole thing, at least not that much. Shouto was an alright student, he did what he was told and learned pretty quickly, although he seemed to completely forget the alphabet the moment Katsuki started calling the chords by name.

“No, idiot, D.”

“I am!”

“That’s A.”

“I thought A was the little triangle, like how an A is pointy.”

“The notes have nothing to do with the shape your fingers make.”

“Why not?”

“Why— I don’t fucking know, why would they?!

“It would make more sense.”

“No it wouldn’t!”

Katsuki reached over, grabbing his fingers to move them into place, but freezing when he felt the warm hand in his grip. His heart pounded, blood rushing to his face, and he snatched his hand back, folding his arms across his chest tightly.

“Thanks,” Shouto said faintly. “I remember this one, now.”

Despite his complaints the whole way through, Katsuki was actually a little proud when Shouto managed to strum out a simple tune, though he tried his best to hide the smile that wanted to come out of him.

“Why are you so obsessed with learning this anyway?”

Shouto blinked at him for a moment, hands falling still, his face burning as red as his hair.

“Uh, to- to impress a girl.”

“To what?”

“Impress... a girl...”

“Jesus Christ.” Katsuki felt his own face growing a little warm at the thought of it. “It better not be Ears, she’s fuckin’ taken.”

“It’s not!”

“Who else would care about you knowing how to play a guitar?”

Shouto shrugged, hesitating before he spoke again.

“Isn’t it romantic to play a song for a girl? They do it in the movies.”

“Please tell me you’re not taking your damn dating advice from stupid romance movies. You’re friends with a ton of girls, just fucking ask them.”

“I did.”

“And they suggested this?”

“Well... Yeah, close enough.”

“This is why I don’t date girls,” Katsuki muttered to himself. “Fucking stupid.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, talking to myself,” Katsuki brushed him off. “Alright, you’re done, I’m going to bed.”

“Already? But I can’t play all these songs yet.”

“You know the basics, practice on your own.”

Katsuki lay back on his bed pointedly, despite the clock not even showing seven o’clock yet, but this time Shouto sighed and conceded defeat.

“Okay. Thank you, Bakugou-sensei. I’ll see you tomorrow, bring your camera.”

“Damn right I will.”

He picked up his things, switching off the light as he showed himself out, and locking the door behind him. At least the asshole had some manners. Katsuki picked up his pillow, jamming it over his face and resisting the urge to yell into it, lest it bring someone running to check on him – he’d had more than enough social interaction for one day.

—————

When someone cleared their throat, Katsuki glanced back over his shoulder, surprised to see every head in the room turning Shouto’s way. Why the fuck was the asshole trying to make everyone—

Oh. Shit

“If I may have your attention,” he began slowly. “I have an announcement to make.”

Shit, was he really gonna do it? Katsuki had been sure he’d chicken out or find some excuse.

“I have been doing some thinking, recently, and have come to the conclusion that I need to be honest with you all. In the first-year sports festival, I was, in fact, a coward. I shouldn’t have held back, it wasn’t fair on the rest of you, and especially on Bakugou. I didn’t take my final fight as seriously as I should have, and I think it was very brave and heroic of Bakugou to say that, instead of accepting the easy victory.”

The room was dead silent, a few eyes turning Katsuki’s way, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to smirk or vomit. He’d been preparing to make some dinner, but he’d suddenly lost his appetite.

“Thank you all for teaching me what it really means to be a hero, over these years. I am grateful to you all. Especially to Bakugou-sensei, my mentor—”

“That’s enough,” Katsuki cut him off, face burning. “Cut it out.”

“But—”

“You’ve said enough.”

“Okay,” Shouto smiled warmly. “Thank you everyone, have a good weekend.”

“What was that about?” Eijirou whispered, leaning in close to Katsuki’s ear. “Did he lose a bet or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” That seemed like as good an excuse as any, really. “I won, he lost, so he had to tell the truth.”

“The truth, or what you wanted to hear?”

“Shut up.”

Katsuki grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and stomped out to the stairwell, he no longer cared about dinner. The extras would all clear out soon, for their evening plans or to do homework, and he could go grab food after they’d gone.

The knock on his door came the moment he sat down on his bed, and Katsuki groaned. Stupid Eijirou was always checking up on him, no matter how much he said he didn’t want people up in his business when he was in a shitty mood.

“Bakugou-sensei?”

Oh. Not Eijirou.

“Can I come in?”

Katsuki pulled open the door with a scowl, finding a familiar scarred face looking down at him – curse that asshole and his height. In one hand he held his guitar again, and in the other, a huge plate covered in foil.

“Sorry it took me a few days to tell them,” he began. “I was going to do it in class, but there were always people missing or teachers in the way. This was the first time we’d all really been in the same room this week. Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Katsuki huffed, stepping aside despite his brain screaming no. “I’d forgotten about that shit.”

“Really?”

Katsuki didn’t answer, this time, instead looking pointedly at the plate Shouto set on his desk.

“I brought you dinner,” Shouto explained, completely deadpan like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I was going to tell you, but you ran off.”

“I didn’t run anywhere.”

“My mistake,” Shouto said, and Katsuki couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not – fuck that impassive stare of his. “If you’re not hungry I can heat it up for you later, I was hoping you’d listen to me while you eat – I’ve been practicing.”

“I told you I’m not whoring out my talents for dinner.”

Shouto pulled the foil off the top, revealing a heaped bowl, and Katsuki’s stomach immediately betrayed him, growling louder than he’d ever heard it when he spotted the mapo tofu waiting for him.

“Even my sister’s tofu?” Shouto asked. “I cooked the rice myself.”

“Fuck you.”

Katsuki took the bowl all the same, and Shouto smiled to himself, sitting on the floor with his guitar.

“I’ve been working on my first whole song,” he said proudly. “Do you want to hear it?”

“Fine,” Katsuki sighed, admittedly a little curious. “Go on, then.”

“Alright.” Shouto cleared his throat, beginning to strum. “Ba-by... Shark. Do do. Do do, do do.”

Katsuki almost spat out his first bite of food, swallowing it quickly and shooting his foot out, frustrated to find Shouto was just a little too far away to kick him in the face. He did, however, take the point – thank the fucking lord – and quickly stop playing, a little smile twitching at his lips.

“That one always gets a laugh.”

“Always? You’ve been playing for a fucking week.”

“The internet told me everyone likes Baby Shark.”

“The internet is a fucking liar.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll play you the real one, then.”

Katsuki sat back warily, taking another bite of his – amazing – food, and watched as Shouto began to strum again. He didn’t sneak a glance at Katsuki this time, just stared at his hands, flexing his fingers a little as he attempted to find his rhythm. When he’d found his stride, he began to sing, and Katsuki could only stare at him – had he seriously picked a song called fucking Dynamite to learn first?

It took all Katsuki’s strength to keep eating. Despite how fucking delicious the dinner was, it was hard to focus on both things at once. He normally prided himself as a master of multi-tasking, but those two activities just didn’t want to co-exist in his brain.

“What did you think?” Shouto asked proudly, when he finished playing. “I know I made a few mistakes, but it was pretty good, right?”

The jerk looked like an excited puppy, all eager for praise and attention, and Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to kick it.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Not bad for a first attempt.”

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Did I impress you?”

Katsuki just gaped at him, his brain refusing to function – what the fuck was that asshole on about, impressing him? Was he making a stupid joke? Implying Katsuki would have the same opinion as a girl? What the fuck?

“Okay, I’ll keep trying.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shouto looked down at his guitar, then up at the plate of tofu in Katsuki’s hand, finally finishing on Katsuki’s fiery eyes and equally flaming cheeks.

“Are you fucking flirting with me?” Katsuki demanded.

“Yes. Was that not clear?”

“What?! No!”

“Oh. My apologies. Midoriya did say I should be clear about my intentions, but perhaps I wasn’t obvious enough.”

“You said this shit was for a girl.”

“I was nervous. It slipped out.”

“You? Fucking nervous?”

“I often feel nervous around you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to— oh.”

Katsuki didn’t know what to say; his mind was swirling, his heart pounding, his vision even blurring a little, like his body was just... shutting down.

“Would you like me to reheat your tofu? I’m sorry I distracted you.”

Shouto reached over to touch the plate, bringing the contents back up to start steaming again, and Katsuki’s hand reached out before he could stop it, fingers curling around Shouto’s wrist. Shouto just blinked at him, and Katsuki gave him a quick tug, yanking him close enough to quickly smash their lips together before he was pulling away again, covering his face with his hand.

Shouto smiled softly, crawling over to sit beside him, leaning against the wall with their thighs just barely brushing against each other. Katsuki shoved tofu in his mouth as an excuse to not speak, and Shouto just poked him in the arm lightly, testing the waters.

“I’ll wait,” he said finally, while Katsuki chewed. “Want me to play for you while you eat?”

Katsuki glared at him, and Shouto smiled a little wider as he picked up his guitar again, settling it in his lap.

“No Baby Shark,” he promised. “I’ve learned Get Lucky, and I’m Yours, and something called All About That Bass but Midoriya said that wasn’t very relevant because you don’t have an ass? I’m not sure what he means by that since I’ve seen you in the changing rooms and you definitely have something between your legs and your back, but I digress—”

“Tell that fucker I have the fucking best ass.”

“I tried Sweet Child of Mine because I know you like old music, but I didn’t understand that one, because I’m not trying to adopt you I’m trying to make you my boyfriend.”

“Don’t use that fucking word, gross.”

“But in the end I thought Dynamite was the best, so I went with that, but I can play you something else in the meantime.”

Sure enough, he set to strumming again while Katsuki busied himself with his food, and Katsuki finally began to relax a little. His heart still beat much harder than he appreciated, and he knew his face was still far too warm, though he hoped he could blame the spicy tofu for at least a little of that. He dawdled over his last bite, carefully scooping up every little scrap just to buy himself a little more time, and when he finally set his plate aside, Shouto just glanced at him, waiting patiently for him to speak first.

“Food was good,” he began. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad you liked it. When I told Fuyumi I was going to make you dinner and ask you to be my boyfriend, she insisted on helping.”

“You fucking told— ugh, forget it, of course you did.”

“Should I not have told her?”

“Most people don’t tell their sister that they’re planning to ask a guy to be their boyfriend when the guy has no fucking clue it’s coming.”

“Oh. But her advice was invaluable, I’d have never gotten in here without the mapo tofu.”

Katsuki pulled a face. Shouto wasn’t entirely wrong, on that count.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Fucking fine.”

He turned his head, and Shouto smiled as he leaned in, pressing their lips together much more gently than Katsuki’s spontaneous attempt. He lingered there a moment, eyes falling closed, and after a moment, Katsuki’s did the same.

“So I did impress you?” Shouto asked, smiling when they split apart.

“Yeah, asshole,” Katsuki sighed, but cracked a tiny smile of his own. “I guess you did.”