"Fuck!"
Bakugou groaned, rolling over in his bed, now back at their homeland. It had been three weeks since the Barbarians had declared victory of war, claiming the land of Endeavour as their own. They hadn't been selfish though, they had honour as the descendants of dragons to use power wisely and to help their brothers and sisters.
A council had been formed, of both Endeavorian and Barbarian, politicians and civilians, in hopes of bringing unity and prosperity to their communities. The Barbarians were allowed access to the coastline and the Endeavorians to the forests, the Tribes' land was expanded to help their communities thrive, alongside greater access to the resources available in the mountains. These were located on the far side of the kingdom of Endeavour, and so they were blocked from them for many decades; yet now they were free to use these resources to prosper as well as build new shrines dedicated to their ancestors.
It had also been three weeks since Bakugou met Shoto. He had though that the unusual feelings in his chest were due to him simply being angry at Endeavour, still bursting with adrenaline from the vigour of war, or that he wanted to protect the boy and give him the freedom that he was fighting for.
But that wasn't the case, and he wanted to curse the gods every time his mother gave him a stupid smirk that was so stupidly like his own that he wanted to slap himself. Slap her. Slap anybody who thought the dilemma he was facing was comical. It wouldn't be comical when they had a spear in their chest!
He groaned again, rolling over and taking a deep inhale of fresh rose. Shoto had been given a room in his family's home. It was a hut larger than the rest in their tribe, a respectful symbol of their wealth and power, and there was enough room for a new guest. Of course Bakugou's father took an immediate liking to the boy, and wasn't put off when he hid behind Bakugou or seemed confused at their language or interactions.
His father, Masaru, was on the softer side. This was unusual for a Barbarian, but it was the reason his mother fell for him. They loved to tell Katsuki all about their romantic dates, how wonderful their wedding was, and all of the sappy things they loved about each other. Mitsuki loved that his father was creative, an expert in thatching and carpentry, and that he was able to calm her down when her temper ran too high. Masaru loved that his mother wasn't afraid to speak her mind, that she was most beautiful when in the middle of a fight.
It made Katsuki want to throw up.
But...these ridiculous thoughts occurred whenever he was looking at Shoto. Thinking about him actually, since the boy didn't need to be present physically to take up space in his mind. He found himself admiring Shoto's art, and so found himself sitting with him in their garden and watching him paint instead of training on their grounds with Kirishima. He found himself teaching Shoto how to cook and letting him taste the best dishes he could make, and that his ego would boost tremendously whenever the boy gave him one of those tiny smiles. The small raise of the corners of his lips made him want to shout to the heavens because he did that. Katsuki made Shoto smile.
Yet, as wonderful as this may seem, it was driving him insane! No matter what he did, where he was or who he was with, Shoto was always on his mind. What was he doing? Was he happy? Should Katsuki cook dinner for him? And the thoughts would only stop when he was with Shoto, either learning from each other - Shoto found he liked teaching Katsuki how to paint, and Bakugou found himself liking that Shoto liked teaching him something new - or enjoying their company in peaceful silence.
The first few days they had returned from war several of their tribe had questions about the mysterious newcomer. They weren't intending to be overbearing, but when they showed up at the Leader's house at all hours of the day, it didn't make Shoto feel very welcome. Luckily his somewhat-friends where there to help, each taking time to get to know Shoto and show him around the tribe, slowly introducing him to people as Shoto. They didn't ask about his past, although Bakugou thought that his features probably gave some sort of explanation of his lineage, and instead integrated him into their community.
Despite Shoto usually looking calm or sometimes uninterested, he was beginning to fit in quite well. He liked spending time with the children, teaching the little pups how to draw and paint. But he also spent time with some of the elders who taught him about their history and ways of life. It turns out that Shoto is deadly with knives, able to hit targets dead on from 40 meters away. Bakugou didn't like the nudges Mina sent his way when his jaw dropped from Shoto hitting the bullseye first try.
As well as Shoto becoming a part of the community, he had become a part of their small family too. Not his blood family, because they wouldn't stop gushing over him until either Bakugou was cringing or Shoto had a panic attack. That only happened once, thankfully. He meant his own pack, his own idiots. A week had passed before Shoto confessed to them about his magic. Another two until he was ready to show them. They were shocked to say the least, but Kirishima was ecstatic that there was someone somewhat close to him.
"Just..." Shoto began hesitantly, "don't run away."
"We won't." Bakugou assured, almost desperate in wanting to see Shoto's magic.
"Yeah, what Bakubro said! We'll accept you!" Kirishima encouraged with a smile.
"Okay."
Shoto held out his hands palm up, taking a deep breath in and out before activating his magic. In his right hand ice began to form, the cold temperature making Denki shiver from beside him. In his left, red flames flickered brightly, reflecting off the ice and making light dance around the room.
"Elemental magic." gushed Mina. "That magic was last recorded way before the treaty was declared."
"So cool." Hanta leaned in to look closer at the fire, jumping back with a yelp when the fire grew for a moment.
"Sorry!" Shoto rushed out. "I can't really control it!"
"Don't worry man!"
"We can help you to control it." Bakugou declared, making Shoto look at him with confusion. "We'll find books, or the elders might know something, or damn, we'll figure it out ourselves."
The rest of them nodded in agreement, offering him warm smiles that made him tear up.
"You aren't... you aren't scared?"
"Why would we be scared?" asked Denki before grinning. "You're Shoto, and we love Shoto!"
The youngest of them looked down, letting his magic diminish as stray tears fell down his cheeks. They weren't scared of him. They didn't hate him. Denki said they loved him. Words evaded him once more, and quiet sobs replaced them when a familiar figure hugged him, letting him let out years worth of pain and fear and self-hate that had been kept inside for so long. He found himself hugging back, touch-starved and desperate to feel comfort from those he grew to care about.
Mina, Sero, Kirishima and Denki soon joined the hug, knowing this was something Shoto needed. They spent the rest of the afternoon messing around with the boy's magic, seeing if he could change the colours of his flames - he alternated between orange and red, sometimes with blue tips - and if he could make shapes out of his ice. Small things like flowers and knives came easy, the latter making Bakugou grin madly when it pierced the centre of the door across the room before melting away, but making figures of people was a little harder.
They stopped when Shoto began to get tired, not wanting him to overuse his power when it had been dormant for so long; it was also time for dinner, so they rushed to the hall to sup on delicious meats and fresh vegetables. Unfortunately, that night, last night, Shoto had woken up from a particularly bad nightmare and ended up sleeping with Bakugou in his bed, drowning in the smell of forests and sweetness as he returned to a peaceful slumber.
He had been gone by the time Katsuki woke up and the boy took advantage of drowning in Shoto's scent. He knew they were connected to the great dragons of the past, but sometimes he thought they were also distantly linked to wolves. Their preference to living in tribes, calling close friend groups 'packs' and significant others 'mates', and Katsuki's newfound addiction for scent.
Shoto smelled like fresh roses blooming in spring, the ones that prospered most naturally by creeks and dappled in sunlight that made them look like ruby jewels. He also smelt like mint, the fresh herbs used in cooking that added another level of delight and complexity to a dish, yet was calming in herbal teas and soothing remedies. Shoto smelled like the world around him.
To him, in this short space of time, Shoto had become home.
Sitting up in bed, Bakugou yawned and stretched his arms above his head before getting dressed with the intent to find Shoto and see what the boy was doing. Since Spring was looming he said that he liked to be outside, the new flowers he discovered everyday reminding him of precious memories where he took walks in the palace gardens with his siblings, playing in the daisy fields until dusk.
Shoto, despite his seeming lack of words, was very poetic. Often Bakugou found himself clinging onto the short sentences, because the boy carefully chose and truly meant every word he chose making them that much more precious...
You see?! He had only been awake for ten minutes and all he had thought about was the Prince! He growled when tearing his bread apart with his teeth, chugging some water before munching on a slab of ham as he went into the garden. The Queen of the Barbarians had her own garden, although her mate spent more time there than her. There was always fresh flowers that would decorate their home, Masaru saying it made Mitsuki look soft and radiant with a smile on his face that led to Katsuki yelling for them to get a room, earning a whack on the head from his mother. But his father also made sure that there were herbs and spices ready for Katsuki to use in the kitchen whenever he needed, which he was grateful for since Shoto loved everything he had tried so far.
Following the stone path through the garden to the small creek that held a shoal of fish, Bakugou took note of the new flowers introduced to the garden and which of the vegetables needed tending to later in the day. He also seemed to be more aware of the different colours spread out in a mosaic beneath him, merging together just like one of Shoto's paintings.
Speaking of Shoto, the boy was sitting by the creek with a fresh canvas and new paints added to the ones he had taken from the castle. Masaru had given him some of his old paints, and Bakugou may or may not have gone down to the marketplace and purchased several more alongside a whole stack of canvases. He had no regrets as they were put to excellent use, and slowly Shoto's paintings were seen all over their home, as well as around the tribe since the elders loved his work and the children had them to copy from in their schools.
"Good morning." Bakugou greeted, sitting down beside Shoto and noticing how smoothly he captures the elegant movements of the fish below him, catching the exact amount of ripples in the water and the depth of the rock beneath.
"Good morning, Katsuki." Shoto replied, glancing over at him and nodding his head with greeting; maybe Katsuki still wasn't over how easily Shoto used his first name.
"I knew I'd find you here." Bakugou said with a smirk. "But did you even eat breakfast, huh?"
"I did. The raspberry, um, what is it called..." Shoto's hand stilled for a moment as he tried to think of the new food he had tried that morning, "oh yes, jam. The raspberry jam your mother makes is very nice."
"She let you have some?" Bakugou asked with surprise, since his mother's preserves were usually kept for important occasions.
"Hm. It goes very nice with cooked seeded bread."
Grunting in acknowledgement, the pair settled into their usual routine: Shoto in his own world painting, and Bakugou enjoying this moment of peace before getting started with his busy day. And, as usual, Bakugou could be found looking intently at Shoto, taking in every feature of his countenance. Perfectly split hair that, when he had fallen asleep on his chest last night, reminded him of strawberries when mixed together. Eyes, different and beautiful, focused and dedicated to each stroke of his brush. Red scar, faded with time yet still present, over his left eye, the story of its origin once more making Bakugou's protective instincts kick in. His tall frame, lean yet getting stronger with the good diet, fresh air and exercise he was now receiving.
His perfect hands. Smooth to the touch, with long fingers that directed his paintbrush across the canvas as if he was writing music. Bakugou knew nothing about writing music but the comparison seemed to make sense. Gentle fingertips that ran through his hair when in deep thought, and palms that rested against his whenever they held hands. Who was Katsuki to say no when Shoto wanted to hold his hand?!
Gods... Shoto was beautiful. He was so beautiful that he almost didn't seem real. And it wasn't just his physical appearance but his personality as well.
Shoto had a kind heart, always helping others when asked, whether it be helping an elder carrying something, or helping out at the schools when their teachers needed some support. He helped his father in the garden and Mina in her laboratory, creating new potions and serums that helped their tribe. Shoto was honest, expressing his confusion at some Barbarian custom he wasn't familiar with or his feelings when someone asked for his opinion on a matter. But this had taken some working on, and Bakugou felt proud at how far Shoto had come in being confident in himself. He had only been with them three weeks yet he fit in so effortlessly it was if he was there the whole time.
"... -tsuki? Katsuki? Hello?"
Snapping out of his trance, Bakugou saw that Shoto was turned facing him, a worried look on his face.
"Are you okay? You weren't responding to me for a moment."
"Yeah." Bakugou recovered, coughing as he sat up straighter. "Yeah, I'm alright."
"Hm. Thankyou for last night, by the way. It helped me sleep well, but I did disturb you."
"It's fine, I slept pretty damn good too."
Shoto nodded before returning to his painting, the slight blush to his cheeks not going unnoticed by the older male. He also noticed a small smudge of paint on Shoto's cheek, and reached out to wipe it away with his thumb. Shoto's hand stilled.
"Katsuki?" he asked, quietly.
"You had some paint on your cheek."
"Oh, thankyou."
"Hm." Bakugou still hadn't taken his hand from Shoto's cheek, instead gently cupping it when the boy turned to look at him.
"Katsuki?"
"Do you want to know something, Shoto?"
Shoto was a little confused but nodded anyways, never one to turn down new knowledge. But he felt a shiver when he caught Katsuki's gaze, the emotion his eyes held telling him that whatever he was going to tell him was important.
"Close your eyes."
Shoto was still confused yet shut his eyes, forehead creasing when he felt Bakugou take the paintbrush out of his hand. A gentle brush of Katsuki's thumb against his cheek once more caught his attention, as well as the breath that was incredibly close to his face...
Bakugou took his time looking at Shoto, carefully putting the brush aside before holding the boy's face gently and leaning forwards. He could probably count Shoto's eyelashes with how long and distinct they were, and could spend eternity tracing the outline of his lips, so soft yet plush with colour.
He didn't dare let himself think for a moment more, as he may back down from his decision, and so leaned forwards the extra distance and kissed Shoto. A gentle press of his lips against the boy's and he was sighing, leaning forwards to kiss him deeper. He felt the surprise leave Shoto's lips and so gently kissed him again, lightly tugging on the bottom lip before kissing him a third time.
Gods, fuck, he was in love with Shoto Todoroki.
And this love threatened to explode in his chest when he felt Shoto kiss him back, hesitant in his actions but obvious in his emotions. He felt a hand rest gently on the back of his neck, pulling him closer into the kiss and making him melt when he felt the boy sigh against his lips. He would never complain whenever someone gushed about their lover again because this, this, was everything. Everything and more.
"Gods you're so beautiful." he whispered the moment they parted, Shoto opening his eyes to give him a look so loving and pure that all Katsuki wanted to do was hold him close and kiss him forever.
"You're beautiful too." Shoto said softly, feeling warmth from Katsuki's eyes widening and red tinting his cheeks. He could watch all day the way the sun caught Katsuki's hair, like locks of sunlight, soft and warm to the touch.
"But not as beautiful as you, my love."
This made Shoto blush harder, looking down as a smile graced his lips.
"Can... can we do that again? Please?" he asked shyly.
"We can do this forever if you wish, Shoto."
And so they kissed, and kissed once more, kissing between sighs and smiles and mutterings of I love you, I love you, I love you, until they ran out of breath to say it anymore. But they spoke with their eyes, warm, longing gazes, and with their hands, gentle yet grasping touches on each other's bodies.
And if they were lying in bed together in the evening, basking in each other's embrace and warm from the gentle fire in the hearth, and Katsuki was thinking of how he had found his mate, his strong and beautiful mate, and how damn right everyone was about it - he still hated when people were right - then that was only for him to know.
Because it was his secret of how deeply he loved and cared for his mate, for Shoto, but just maybe it was a secret he could share with his lover too.