MHA smut

Bad Taste In Good Men

Written by: lalazee

Summary:

Personal chef and internet food vlogger Deku has good taste in just about everything but men.

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"Who the fuck're you?"

Deku gasped, one hand clutching his chest as he whipped around. The silent, still kitchen, still embraced by the blue dark of morning winter windows, seemed to shift and make room for the golden boy standing in the entry.

He wasn't much taller than Deku but took up more room in his muscle shirt with the sleeves ripped off, the three-stripe athletic pants clinging low to his hips. His pale hair held the light from the ultra modern bulb fixture above their heads and his suspicious, squinty face was almost pretty, fox-like and sharp.

"Uh, hi," Deku said. He held up his immersion blender, not yet diving into the pot of unblended potato and leek soup. "I work here. You?"

The guy's entire expression tightened and grew even more suspicious, those faintly tilted eyes of some kind of hot cinnamon hazel giving Deku's neat and tidy appearance a once over, then a twice over.

"I live here," he said, faintly shifting from one bare foot to the other, as if steadying his stance for a fight.

"O-oh?" Deku tried on his best smile and set the immersion blender down, automatically wiping his hands on his sturdy jean apron. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met, then. I've been cooking for the Bakugou family since September. My name's Midoriya Izuku."

When the guy didn't reply at all, Deku cleared his throat and licked his lips, looking away and back. The intensity rolling off this guy at barely six in the morning was staggering.

"You, uh, you can call me Deku, though?" Deku didn't know why he said that like a question. Like he didn't know his own damn name. Why was this person not saying anything? "That's—that's what my friends call me anyway."

The guy scoffed and burst into movement, heading for the fridge on the opposite side of the white marble island from Deku at the stove.

"Whatever, Deku," the guy said into the open fridge as he grabbed an energy drink. "My parents really hire your ass? My mom's always been a shitty cook but I didn't know it was that dire."

Parents. Okay. So this was their kid. Deku had heard Mitsuki occasionally mention 'our shithead of a son' a couple times, but only and passing, and always to her husband.

Deku huffed a laugh as he watched the Bakugou kid crack his can open and drink, his long, tanned throat lengthening and shifting as he chugged.

"Your parents are busy people," Deku said. He'd gathered that much over the autumn months going into winter working at this apartment. The Bakugous weren't his only gig across the city, but they were easily one of the best paying, and they let him have free reign to cook as long as he kept pescatarian with the weekly menu.

When Bakugou only shrugged and took another sip, his eyes darting toward the simmering pot then away, Deku offered a softer smile.

"Do you want something for breakfast? I already have mango and pomegranate parfaits set in the fridge, but if you want something more substantial I could make an omelet or a smoothie for you."

When Bakugou looked at him like he was an alien, Deku felt his face burn as he shrugged.

"Anything's better than what you're drinking. It'll destroy your kidneys."

Bakugou blinked, then barked a laugh, shaking his head as he set the can on the counter. The flash of his sharp, almost boyish smile and perfect, white teeth was like an electric shock to the system, bright and snapping and sudden, then gone, leaving Deku a little breathless.

"Yeah, I know," Bakugou said. "But I fuckin' hate coffee and hot drinks."

"Well, what about a matcha smoothie?" Deku turned to check that his pot of almost potato and leek soup wasn't edging past a simmer, absently stirring with a wooden spoon as he spoke. "I know a good one with dates and banana. Good fiber, natural sugars, caffeinated, all that. Won't tear through your kidneys before you're thirty."

"Can you stop thinking about my fucking internal organs," Bakugou said, but he didn't sound particularly pissed, just exasperated as he snorted a short laugh. He tapped the counter twice, like some kind of morse code of agreement as he nodded and started to exit the room.

"Make me that thing, Deku," he called lazily over his shoulder, his voice all proprietary and practically princely. "I need a shower."

That left Deku staring after Bakugou's big, wide back and shoulders. Wondering.

"Well," he breathed out to himself as he returned to the soup. He needed to blend it and cool it, ready for reheating and serving when the Bakugous returned from work. They weren't even up for their breakfast yet, but apparently their son was an early riser.

"Well," Deku said again, trying to shake himself off. "That was something."

By the time Deku blended his soup and doled them out in gallon containers for the fridge and freezer, then prepared the matcha smoothie to sit in a tall glass on the pristine counter, Bakugou was back.

He smelled zesty and fresh, dressed in a black hoodie and matching sweats with vibrant red chrysanthemums embroidered on the chest and up the side of one leg. His feet were still bare and his hair was bronze and wet, unstyled as he padded into the room and opened a cabinet. Deku watched under the guise of pouring himself a coffee as Bakugou placed one of those cheap plastic protein shakes on the counter, haphazardly dumped the smoothie inside, ignoring the splatters and overfill dripping on the marble, and screwed on the lid.

With hot, garnet eyes on Deku, Bakugou lifted the cup and licked the side of it, then flattened his pink tongue along his wrist, where some of the green, thick drink had dripped.

He didn't say thank you, but he vaguely gestured with the cup in some weird cheers to Deku, and promptly walked out of the room.

"Well, shit," Deku said as he grabbed a paper towel to clean up the mess.

The Bakugou son was a cocky dickhead and Deku was going to have a hard fucking time if that guy planned on sticking around.

Not fifteen minutes later, Mitsuki swept into the kitchen wearing a fitted sweater dress in poppy red-orange, her black velvet boots climbing right over her knees to cling at her thighs, her tasteful gold jewelry glinting at ears and neck and slim fingers.

"Good morning, handsome," she greeted him with her usual rushed cheer. She had a way of storming a room like a soldier, sniping everyone with a few choice words and gestures to have a person on their knees in the face of her imperious presence, and evacuating just as quickly, onto greater things. "No time to sit and eat this morning, I've got to run. Smells excellent in here. I'm already thinking about dinner. Make me a coffee to go, why don't you, darling."

"Good morning," Deku said, cheered by her presence. The woman was constantly firing on all cylinders and now that Deku had briefly interacted with her son, he could see their resemblance like the sun and a burning comet caught in its gravity. "Parfaits are in the fridge. I packed a few in tupperware in case you had to run. I'll get your coffee."

"You're a star," Mitsuki said, sounding distracted as she pulled a multi-layered, artful parfait from the fridge with one hand and bringing her phone near her face to scroll and rapidly type with a manicured thumb.

"So, I met your son," Deku said as he poured her coffee and added the sugar-free syrup, the vanilla almond milk, and so forth. "He looks like you."

"Mm," Mitsuki said, her attention on the phone. Deku vaguely realized they had the same eye color, a sparking hot cinnamon. "He's home from uni until the sixth of January. Do feel free to ignore my little ingrate. He's a pain in my ass as much as he once was a pain in my vagina."

Deku tried not to let his face crumple at the comparison, but by the soft huff of humor from across the kitchen island, Mitsuki had caught him out.

"So he's like, living here during this time?" Deku knew it was a stupid question before he even finished. Way to not sound interested at all. "I mean, is there anything specific he enjoys eating?"

Mitsuki clicked her tongue with some vague sound of annoyance and shoved her phone down the front of her dress, right into the cup of her bra, the top sticking out as she used both hands to grab food and drink.

"Who knows? That kid claims to major in sport science and health but he eats like a trash compactor. You'll have to ask him. Just no red meat, alright? I don't care what he says, I'm not having anything bleeding out in my fridge."

Deku refrained from telling her if anything was actively bleeding in her fridge, it wasn't a fresh raw meat problem. He just smiled and nodded.

***

Deku didn't have time to stick around. He had several other clients in the city and a grueling schedule. Some clients had him on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule, with him arriving to prep lunch healthy lunchboxes for the coming two days, followed by cooking a full dinner the for family. Others had him on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, but wanted him in the morning to cook breakfast for their large family, then prep lunches, and leave dinner to their own devices. One specific client had Deku reserved every Saturday night due to their obsession with hosting work dinner parties while never lifting a finger in the actual preparation of them.

Some clients were full families, some were couples, some were single and looking to keep themselves on a strict meal regime. Deku single-handedly did the grocery shopping for each client, planned and edited weekly menus, and of course, cooked everything from scratch.

Bonus? Deku almost always got to eat his own food. Plus, he was able to film his daily culinary adventures to post across several short form social media platforms, which give him an extra edge of income that he squirreled away for the future.

People liked to watch him cook. They liked slow, sexy cheese pulls and bubbling casseroles all crispy at the edges, kimbap dipped in succulent, spicy red noodles, and fresh, bright fruit evenly cut like juicy jewels.

And Deku loved to cook. He loved to feed and be fed. He liked the compliments that flowed from the internet and the smiles on his clients faces. He loved all of it.

He was exhausted almost all the time, but he was happy. He was thriving.

He had absolutely no personal life to speak of between it all, but he was busy, okay.

So Deku didn't really have a ton of time to linger on the new Bakugou boy as he shopped the covered markets and lugged a foldable wagon down the sidewalk, bursting with fresh ingredients and mental menus ready to be made reality.

On Wednesday, Deku let himself into the high rise Bakugou apartment with the blustering cold clinging crisp and biting to his clothes.

Winter mornings might be Deku's least favorite thing about his job. The Bakugou's liked fresh seafood, and while Deku had no problem heading to the local fish market to purchase the best catches, the sky was still black when he arrived and the sky had barely edged into deep sea blue by the time Deku hauled his bursting, reusable grocery bags into the silent kitchen and set everything down.

Well, whatever. Deku neatly hung his puffy orange parka in the corridor coat closet and deposited his snowy boots upon the absorbent side mat beside the door. Slipped his feet into the fuzzy slippers that Mitsuki had insisted she bought just for him, and got started.

Deku had a rhythm. Always did. He put in his ear buds and turned on his Eggs & Bacon playlist, which was his morning bops, and got to pouring himself a double espresso from the giant, fancy machine these people had sitting right on the counter. Deku dropped a dollop of cream into the tiny espresso cup just to cool the heat level and blur the acidity before downing it like a shot at the bar, then got started on prep.

Humming and softly mumbling to Beyoncé in his ears, Deku left the crepe batter bowl in the fridge to rest for a while and shut the door.

"HOLY SHIT." Deku clasped a hand to his chest and panted hard, gaping at a grinning Bakugou. "Holy shit," Deku said on a shaky exhale, his words bouncing with light, relieved laughter as he plucked the buds from his ears. "You scared me. Jeez."

"You're real fuckin' uptight," Bakugou said, looking pleased as hell about it.

"I'm not," Deku lied as he stepped out of Bakugou's gravity and back to the kitchen island where a rainbow of ingredients awaited a simple stir fry meal prep with shrimp waiting to be deveined. "Standing behind open fridge doors is like, the stuff that happens in horror movies. You're lucky I didn't stab you."

Bakugou made a show of eyeing the sizeable knife Deku pulled from his personal roll of treasured blades.

"You know how to handle that thing?" Bakugou asked lowly.

He'd clearly just rolled out of bed, because his hair was flat on one side and spiked out like sun rays on the other. His deep navy crewneck sweater boldly stated University of Tokyo in light blue font and it looked like he'd gouged the cuffs with scissors to make the holes his thumbs were sticking out of. His loose sport shorts were practically neon orange and skimmed his knees.

Deku really should not be attracted to this guy, but he always had the worst taste in everything except food.

"I know how to handle plenty," Deku said evenly as he dropped his gaze to rapidly slice and chop a rainbow of peppers into a neat julienne.

Bakugou didn't reply, but he also didn't leave. Deku expressly did not look up as he took to the sweet onion, the green onion, a rough chop on the spinach, a fine mince on the garlic and ginger. Turned to address the pantry and retrieve half a dozen different sauce bottles to whip up both a sesame peanut sauce and a teriyaki garlic.

"Hey," Bakugou said, apropos of nothing. He'd merely had his arms folded on the counter, directly opposite Deku, watching. "Make me that smoothie again."

Deku chanced a look up and found that sizzling, stark gaze staring right back. No shame to be found in making demands while Deku was very obviously in the middle of cooking something else.

"Can you wait?" Deku asked as busied himself opening the plastic tops to two squeezy sauce bottles. He glanced over and caught the abrupt jolt of Bakugou's eyebrows.

"Whatever," Bakugou said, and walked out of the kitchen.

Deku felt bad for about two seconds. Reminded himself that Bakugou was not specifically his client and once he completed his prep and before he began crepes, he'd get on that.

Resolutely, Deku popped in his ear buds anew, bopping and softly singing his way through his orderly duties. Afterward, as he was blending up the very smoothie that His Highness had demanded, both Mitsuki and Masaru wandered into the kitchen.

"Good morning, gorgeous," Mitsuki said as she made a beeline for the espresso machine herself this time. She wore a lush, velvet copper robe that draped toward the floor, the thick belt knotted tight and the lush collar fluffed up around her sharp jaw. She wore no makeup, but even her fresh morning face was striking.

"Good morning everyone," Deku greeted on automatic as he poured out the smoothie in the same crappy plastic protein shake-up that Bakugou had used yesterday.

"Who is that green thing for?" Masaru asked, blinking blearily at Deku's careful pouring. He looked like everyone's television dad, wearing matching maroon plaid pajamas and those white socks with the gray toes. Deku always found him oddly handsome, in the way some older men had the potential to be hot if they didn't have such dopey personalities.

Deku liked him very much. Masaru was gentle and soft spoken, easy to please, and stable.

"Oh, it's for, uh, Bakugou." Deku realized he didn't know his first name.

"Katsuki?" Masaru frowned at the concoction. "Is he even awake?"

"Sure is," Deku replied as he tightened the cap. "Nearly scared the pants off me when I had music in my ears. Barely six in the morning."

"Our son?" Mitsuki asked as she dumped her espresso into a mug and set another two shots to drop. "Awake at six in the morning? I figured Monday was a fluke because he said he thought someone was robbing us when it was just you. That boy will sleep until noon if I don't shove my foot up his ass and kick him out of his cave."

"Oh." Deku didn't really know what to say to that. "I'll be more quiet coming in next time."

"Nah." Mitsuki waved him off. "Wake him up every morning. You'd be a good influence on him. You're both the same age and look at you."

Deku couldn't help but frown at the insinuation that Bakugou—or, Katsuki?—was not achieving something with himself when the guy was literally attending the best university in Japan. Deku had merely attended the closest local culinary institute to his mom's house and lived that relentless grind until he got to this point.

Instead of saying anything at all, he merely nodded and scurried away with the smoothie in hand. The high rise apartment was impressive and chic and, frankly, Deku had never explored it much at all. Never had a reason to. So when he edged down the corridor of closed doors that always remained shut ever since he started working here, he found himself making a little circle as he stood there, frowning.

Like an absolute creep, Deku pressed his ear to the nearest door, and upon hearing a vague shuffle, decided to knock.

Bakugou whipped the door open almost comically fast. His hair looked like he'd done something with it. Wetted it and ran some kind of styling pomade through it, all artfully spiked out instead of wildly slept-in. He wore another matching sweatpants outfit, charcoal on the top and bottom, riotously speckled with purposeful bleach stains.

"Hi," Deku said, a little breathless for absolutely no reason at all, nope. "I was just—" He held up the smoothie. "This."

"Oh." Something flashed in Bakugou's eyes, his pale lashes dropping to where Deku offered it between them. "Right. Cool."

He took it and their hands didn't touch and Deku was annoyed that he even noticed. This was his place of work. His dick needed to stay in line.

"Okay," Deku said, clever as hell. God, he had no business talking to affluent university students. This was not his realm of specialty. He spent more time with mushrooms than people on a good day. And the way Bakugou was staring at him without smiling or saying a word spoke volumes to Deku's idiocy. "Okay, well. Have a great day."

With that, Deku turned and marched down the hall and back to the kitchen.

"Have a great day?" Deku muttered to himself. "Is this fucking McDonalds? McFuck myself."

***

Only the drunks and the fishmongers were out at five in the morning on a Saturday.

And, of course, Deku.

Holding his phone, Deku trudged through the unwieldy, snow-laden streets, recording the trip as he trekked his usual track through the town and toward the fish market. People loved to watch him struggle through the elements to get where he needed to go in order to procure the best ingredients possible. The unusually heavy snowfall this December was helping him with views, while he froze his ass off multiple times a week venturing through it.

The only thing he had going on this Saturday was some big New Year dinner at the Todoroki estate, which meant Deku would be in their kitchen, cooking most of the day away on long, arduous recipes. He was also getting paid triple his usual fee and wouldn't be opening his mouth to complain, even in his own head.

Large, snowglobe flakes drifted to the ground, catching and melting on Deku's face as he hummed to his Eggs & Bacon playlist and allowed himself to enjoy the early morning quiet. The solitude; the ethereal blue hue of the pre-dawn winter world. Walking in the snow wasn't so bad with the view of unpaved streets and sidewalks to enjoy before the day's bystanders crushed it all to slush.

He'd stopped recording now, and had a glove bit between his teeth, hanging from his mouth as he used his freed, cold hand to scroll his social media and type quick, chirpy replies to kind comments. A more popular vlogging chef of actual worth had shared one of Deku's videos and he'd amassed several thousand followers overnight.

Smiling to himself, glove in mouth, looking down at his phone, was when he slammed into a solid, warm body.

"Sorry!" Deku immediately said, his glove diving into the snow as he dropped down for it, then looked up with apology and alarm. "Sorry, I'm—Bakugou?"

Bakugou stood there, grinning loosely with his eyebrows toward his hairline, looking Deku up and down like he'd just encountered something incredible. Flanking him were several people who looked a similar age, the lot of them swaying and holding onto each other, obviously inebriated and living for it.

Deku startled when Bakugou reached out and actually plucked an earbud from Deku's ear.

"What the hell're you doing out here?" Bakugou asked, continuing to look delighted for reasons Deku couldn't comprehend. Was he about to bully him? That would make sense. Deku braced himself.

"I'm—" Deku paused, only because a black girl with excessively long, neon pink braids and massive, unwieldy neon green earmuffs shoved herself between Bakugou and one of his guy friends, smiling wildly as her dark eyes raked Deku's frame with glee. "Shopping," Deku finished lamely. He pulled up a small smile. "You guys having fun tonight?"

"The most fun," said the girl, beaming. "What's your name, honey? You don't go to school with us. I'd know."

"That's Deku," Bakugou said. He had Deku's earbud hostage and Deku didn't know a polite way to ask for it back. The knowledge was making Deku antsy and distracted.

"Oh my god, you're Deku!" hollered some guy who was absolutely huge. He had a scar below his eye like some kind of super villain but was wearing a garish holiday hat with a big puff ball on the top and was smiling like a golden retriever.

"That's. . .me?" Deku looked at Bakugou with confusion, then the rest of them. There was so many of them. "Sorry, I kind of have to get—"

"Where the hell you going this late?" Bakugou asked. He wasn't smiling anymore and he elbowed the girl off him when she draped herself against his side. Girlfriend, maybe?

"The fish market. For work," Deku said, his brain absolutely scrambling for ways to escape this scrutiny. These have to be Bakugou's equally impressive school friends, no mistake. Deku tried not to look at any of them for any length of time, feeling small and too seen while he got up for work just after four in the morning and his peers are out there living it up without a care. "So, I've really got to go. I'm just gonna—"

Fuck the earbud. Deku would force himself to buy new ones. Quickly, he started to round the rowdy group of snickering, chattering friends.

"Hold up, hold up!"

A hand on Deku's puffer coat, stilling him, spinning him. Deku could feel his face burn. He just wanted to evacuate the scene already. Who the hell—

"You forgot this," Bakugou said, his breath coming out in white hot puffs, the malty smell of beer warm in the chilled air between their bent heads as Bakugou opened Deku's hand and placed the glove, then the earbud. "Dumbass. What's the fuckin' rush."

"I just—" Why couldn't Deku form proper sentences around this guy? Deku could handle himself. Had been able to handle himself for a long time now. He wasn't some scrawny, aimless loser desperate to please. Deku chewed on his bottom lip. Glanced past Bakugou's shoulder where everyone seemed to be looking at them. "Well, thanks for that. Glad I didn't lose them. I gotta go now. Have fun."

"You're going to the fish market?" Bakugou asked, as if Deku hadn't said shit. That tracked for him, even with the little Deku knew of him.

"Yes," Deku replied, suspicious. "It's cool," he found himself defending himself. Like an idiot. "You can see really huge fish and stuff there. And there's one guy who cuts sashimi fresh there, just for people who are super early."

Bakugou blinked at him and Deku couldn't tell what the hell he was thinking, not at all.

"I'm hungry," Bakugou said.

"Okay?" Deku stared at him. "There's food at your house. I happen to know this."

"Yeah, but like. Sashimi." Bakugou nodded. Dragged a hand through his perfected hair an fucked it up, pushed it back so it looked like an entirely different style, wild. "That sounds better than anything we have at home."

"Hey, watch it," Deku said, unable to stop himself from smiling. "I happen to have made the stuff you have at home."

"Bakugou!" one of Bakugou's friends yelled into the empty, seemingly cavernous street of quiet snow. Everything around them fluffy and soft and quiet, minus Bakugou's haphazard group. "Let the guy live! I'm freezing my balls off!"

"LET THEM FREEZE OFF, SHINSOU," Bakugou screamed over his shoulder, his ears red from the cold now that Deku noticed them. "IT'LL BE BETTER FOR THE POPULATION AT LARGE!"

With the entire group in hysterics, Bakugou turned back to Deku, his sharp cheekbones high with color. The hazy yellow streetlight glowed in his hair and Deku bit down on his bottom lip hard to keep himself from getting distracted. Deku was about to say goodbye again, when Bakugou made a sour face, opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it, paused, then:

"Never been to a fish market. You should show me. Sounds cooler than these pieces a'shit. Then I can eat too."

Deku blinked, his cheeks flooding with heat.

"Uh," he said, looking from Bakugou to his friends and back. "Aren't you tired?"

Bakugou shrugged.

"We goin' or not? I'm losing the feeling in my feet just standing here."

Deku glanced at Bakugou's shoes.

"Maybe you shouldn't wear such fancy shoes in the snow," he said.

Bakugou's eyes went large before he smiled and barked a laugh, that sharp flash of teeth cutting Deku straight to the bone, stinging with the clarity of attraction.

"Yeah alright, smartass. OIY!" Bakugou whipped around, his voice harsh in the peaceful street night. "You assholes go without me! Fucking boring as shit! Can feel myself losing brain cells tonight! Go the fuck home!"

This decision caused an uproar of tossed insults and middle fingers to the air, but the lot of them huddled together like a pack of penguins and stumbled down the street and away, their laughter and conversation sinking into the solid snow, not carrying or echoing very far at all.

"So?" Bakugou said, startling Deku as he'd been caught up in watching the group go. "Show me the place important enough you gotta wake up at ass o'clock in the morning to attend."

Deku laughed despite himself and bumped Bakugou's shoulder as they began to walk, Deku keeping his attention toward the ground so he didn't trip in any snow drifts.

"I can't believe you've never gone. It's busy any time of day, really, but all of the best restaurants have a chef who will wait for the initial morning intake to have the freshest catch possible. And you can have fish cooked for you right there. The early morning is the best though. Everyone is yelling at each other and arguing prices, guzzling coffee like it's lifeblood and stinking like the ocean."

When Bakugou didn't reply, Deku suddenly felt stupid and small again. He dared sneak a glance over, only to quickly look away when Bakugou had already been staring, his expression sober, his cheeks flushed up to his ears from the cold.

"That's the most I ever heard you say," Bakugou said. "And it was about fuckin' fish. You really like this shit, huh?"

"So?" Deku heard the defensive snap to his voice. Couldn't help it. He huffed and shoved his gloved hands in his pocket. Realized he still had one earbud in, happily playing music, and yanked it out, shoving it in his pocket with its pair. "So, it's my life. I like my life. Not everyone can say that."

"True as fuck," Bakugou agreed with such ease that Deku just knew this guy was more drunk than he let on. "Just wasn't sure if you were fuckin'. . .shy or not. Or whatever. Seem like it sometimes."

"We've interacted, like, twice," Deku shot back, only now finding his footing as he held onto the idea that Bakugou was vaguely wasted and therefore less intimidating to talk to.

Bakugou laughed again, an abrupt huff as he shoved his shoulder none too gently against Deku's as they trudged through the seemingly unending sidewalk of snow. When he didn't say anything, Deku just rolled his eyes, snorted a soft laugh through his nose, and kept walking by his side, leading the way through the deep blue morning.

"My parents go nuts for your food, y'know," Bakugou said as they neared the expansive, arched entrance to the covered market. The entire place was a gargantuan warehouse with glass-paned ceilings, letting through light as soon as the sun chose to rise, which wasn't quite yet.

"That's nice of them," Deku said, for lack of better reply. He still couldn't believe Bakugou was even speaking to him so casually. Like they were friends.

They weren't friends. They didn't even know each other.

"Showed me your social media and everything," Bakugou said.

Deku felt his stomach lurch. There was something so instinctively sickening about people he knew being actively aware of his food vlogging. Like they saw one side of him; the professional, the friendly guy in an apron, the person who quickly and quietly tried to get in and out of their house with as little fuss or attention as possible.

His vlogs and shorts weren't like that. Deku voiced over them, chatting about his day and the adventures he had as the footage illustrated the remaining story. He rarely spoke of his culinary fuck-ups, but they were there too. The times he had to start over. The difficulties he faced, carting food across town in all kinds of weather, planning menus, cutting his fingers, cooking in his own unbelievably tiny kitchen with only a third of the utensils and tools he had at his disposal with these wealthy families.

Deku couldn't imagine how much Bakugou had watched, but he hoped it was only his top three pinned shorts and nothing more. Nothing that would incriminate Deku as a complete food nerd with a motor mouth and a roll of sharpened knives that he loved more than life.

"For fuck's sake," Bakugou said, jolting Deku from his inner spiral. "Don't hurt yourself over there. If you're so damn embarrassed, don't do it in the first place."

"I'm not embarrassed," Deku snapped back, his face burning. They passed through the marketplace arch and were immediately assaulted with familiar shouts and sea-salt air. "It's just weird. When people I know watch that stuff."

"We've only interacted, like, twice," Bakugou said.

When Deku looked at him, Bakugou was smiling. All those pretty, perfect teeth. Sharp incisors. The beer-flush to his cheeks and his hair fucked up from his hand and damp from melted snowflakes.

Deku grinned. Damn if he could help himself around this guy for some reason.

"Go fuck yourself," Deku said, smiling as he said it.

Bakugou only smiled wider and Deku had to look away first, thankful when one of the fishmongers called out to him with a happy wave.

Deku directed Bakugou to the kiosk selling coffee and tea. When Bakugou blanched at the hot drinks—Deku had forgotten about that—Deku only heaved a dramatically loud sigh and ordered himself a coffee and made Bakugou hold the reusable, cloth bags his mom had sewed him years ago.

"What, am I your errand boy now?" Bakugou said as he followed Deku through the aisles, briefly blanching when some guy wheeled a cart by with massive salmon, full of gaping mouths.

"Have you ever done an errand for anyone but yourself?" Deku said as he sipped his coffee and cast Bakugou with a discerning eye. Hot or not, Bakugou was still a little rich boy, and Deku couldn't imagine the guy wanted for much, ever.

"Fuck you," Bakugou said, his entire face scrunching up, almost ugly if a guy like him could ever be ugly.

"Uh huh." Deku smiled into his coffee and continued snaking through the aisles. "That's what I thought. Here, eat some fish."

Deku chatted with the familiar fishmonger who wasn't trained in sushi, but could handle a long, sharp knife as well as anyone in a distinguished restaurant. Deku watched Bakugou slice the tuna right from the fish, the wonder in his eyes evident, almost boyish and sweet with surprised as the fishmonger offered a tiny paper plate with a neat flay of fatty, red tuna fanned out for him.

"This is fucking amazing," Bakugou said to the guy, then to Deku, his eyes large as he chewed and swallowed. "Holy shit. You eating any of this?"

Deku began to peel off his gloves and pocket them, but when he looked up, Bakugou was already offering out a glistening slice of fish with the cheap wooden chopsticks, his expression expectant. Refusing to give it much thought, Deku accepted the bite and savored the fresh tuna melting on his tongue.

They ate like that, not much food on the plate in the first place, and Deku smiled despite himself when he noticed Bakugou pay the guy three times what the food was worth.

"This place is cool," Bakugou said as they wandered away and back into the hubbub.

Deku beamed as he led them through to his favorite stall.

"Good morning, Rody!" Deku greeted, happy as he ever was to see one of the only people in his life he could call a close friend. "How's it going?"

Rody turned around quickly, cramped in his small stall as he was, already smiling at the sound of Deku's voice. His amber hair was forever in its harried, messy bun atop his head, a bandana tied around his brow to keep errant strands from his face. He was wearing a ragged, hand-knit sweater underneath a shitty jacket; not enough layers for the weather, but the market radiated heat like nobody's business once everyone got hustling and bustling.

"It goes better now," Rody said, his gaze lingering on Deku before flickering to Bakugou and pausing, narrowing, inspecting from head to toe. "Who's your buddy?"

"This is Bakugou," Deku said as he offered his half-finished coffee across the baskets and displays of fresh fish. Rody accepted it as he always did, fully prepared to finish off the rest without shame. "He's the son of one of my clients. We ran into each other on the way. Bakugou, this is Rody."

Rody arched an eyebrow, staring directly at Bakugou, unflinching when Bakugou seemed to stare back and make himself look taller, bigger, just from the way he shifted his stance.

"Don't get your kind 'round these parts much," Rody said, instead of greeting.

"The fuck's that mean," Bakugou shot back, taking a step closer to the stall.

Deku had no idea what was going on, but apparently Bakugou was aggressive when drinking. Great.

"I have to cater a dinner party tonight," Deku said as he assessed the fish before him. They all had clear eyes instead of clouded, their scales shiny and clean, their coloring still vibrant. The freshest of the fresh. "Three courses and all that. What's best today?"

Rody seemed briefly unable to tear his gaze from a silent Bakugou before he set his coffee aside and smiled slow and sure at Deku.

"You know I got your back, sunshine. Let's talk prices."

The two of them fell easily into conversation. They'd been interacting every week, multiple times a week, for years now. They'd barely known each other for a month before Rody had asked Deku out to eat, and they'd been friends ever since. Rody was easy and funny, quick and clever, street-smart and good-hearted with his siblings. Deku admired and enjoyed him in equal turns.

It didn't take long for Deku to take his pick and pay the price, all on a card that linked directly to his client's bank account and weekly stipend. Rody wrapped several parcels of fish and Deku packed them into the bags Bakugou held, smiling up at him and saying thank you while their faces were too close.

Bakugou's gaze dropped to somewhere around Deku's chin and Deku wiped at it, wondering if he'd splashed coffee.

"We still on for dinner tomorrow?" Rody asked, interrupting the off-kilter moment.

"Huh?" Deku pulled back to softly pout at Rody in question. He brightened up quickly, smile. "Yeah, for sure. Sunday."

Sunday was Deku's only day off. He spent it cooking anyway. Once in a while, Rody would invade Deku's apartment and take on the role of official taste tester of Deku's various menu attempts. Deku was never content forming opinions on new recipes alone; someone else needed to verify their validity to him before he'd accept it.

"Are we done here?" Bakugou snapped, his hand tightening on the strap of the bag he held. He was looking around, his expression stiff and unlike the loose, amused disposition he'd had walking in.

"Uh, yup," Deku wasn't going to risk pissing off Bakugou in earnest. The guy was still related to his client. Was essentially Deku's client, by proxy. He had to watch his step. "Seeya soon, Rody."

"Very soon," Rody said in an odd tone. Deku was already walking away, but he glanced over his shoulder with a frown to find Rody looking at their retreating backs in an entirely new way. Weird.

"That your boyfriend or some shit," Bakugou said with apparent disgust. His back was hunched, hands hidden in his pockets, his entire frame sulky and almost adolescent. A shitty attitude. Had he been saying something less offensive, Deku might have been amused with whatever change was coming over him. But the way Bakugou had said it—

"And what if he was?" Deku snapped, his eyes going hot and stinging as he stared at the side of Bakugou's face. "Would there be a problem ? Because I have no problem making you my problem if—"

"The fuck?" Bakugou stopped dead in the rushing aisle and gawked at him, his entire face going up in flame from the neck up, soaking bright into his cheeks, his eyes wide. "No. No. The hell're you—I was just asking! I didn't know if you were—"

"Well I am ," Deku bit off, holding Bakugou's gaze and refusing to part with it. He didn't care if this got him into trouble. This shouldn't be an issue with anyone, anywhere, any time, and Deku had no problem facing off to make it known.

"Jeezus fuck, fine! Me too! Shit, man." Bakugou turned away, his face bright red, and began to stomp toward the exit. "Who the fuck would ever think your ass is shy," he hollered over his shoulder, looking harried and kind of delightfully ruffled. "Fuckin' piranha or something. Shit."

Flabbergasted, Deku stood there and watched Bakugou march away. Then realization swooped through him, a heavy heartbeat in his ears as he gasped and bolted to catch up.

"Wait! Wait, hold up, you're leaving with my fish!"

Bakugou whirled on him with a sour face, but something most have shown in Deku's expression because the harsh lines of his features smoothed out to a wary kind of suspicion.

Before Bakugou could say anything more, Deku dove in with a steadying hand on Bakugou's arm. Deku's hand was gloved and Bakugou wore a winter coat, but touching another person when he rarely did so in everyday life felt somehow more important than it should. Deku swallowed and smiled, feeling sheepish, his face hot.

"Sorry." He glanced down and away, then plucked up his courage to meet Bakugou's stern, watchful gaze. "Sorry. I'm not good at staying quiet against injustice and stuff. I didn't realize you were also, uh—"

"Yeah, don't fuckin' hurt yourself." Bakugou rolled his eyes and took a step away from Deku's steadying head. His nose was a little red and his cheeks flushed from his boozy night as he glanced away with a sniff. "It's whatever. Just don't want you crawlin' up my ass for shit that don't make sense."

"Sor—"

"Said it's fine." Katsuki frowned as he looked around the bustling market. "So, is this all? You got more places to be now?"

"I need to head to another market for produce," Deku said. He pulled out his phone, took the finger of his glove between his teeth to pull it off as he thumbed through his shopping list. With the glove in his mouth, he added, "After that I need to head to my client. Bouillabaisse is a long process and I have a lot of prep for the other menu items."

"Boo—" Katsuki's face screwed up as he immediately failed to repeat the dish name Deku had just said. "The fuck is that? No, y'know what, I'm too drunk for this."

Deku huffed a laugh through his nose and pocketed his phone, put his glove back on. He looked around, smiling anew at the familiar setting with the unfamiliar man standing before him. It was weirdly easy to speak to him like this. Maybe knowing Bakugou was buzzed helped; made Deku less nervous than the Bakugou he'd met in the high rise apartment, intimidatingly confident and cocky with it.

"So," Deku said as he began to walk to the exit. It was still snowing and didn't show signs of letting up. The rest of the world was slowly waking and stretching out into the streets despite the winter sun not yet rising. "I'm going in a different direction from your apartment. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Oh." Bakugou was silent beside Deku until they stepped from the market and into the snow. Swirling clumps of fluffy, sparkling snow fluttered around them, clung to hats and hair. Bakugou frowned as Deku took it upon himself to heft the reusable bag off his shoulder and it on his own. "Sure you'll be okay heftin' all that shit around town in this weather?"

"I've endured worse," Deku said, smiling for no reason other than it felt good to smile at a boy in the early morning snowfall.

"You should call a car to drive you," Bakugou said, so damn serious about it that Deku had to laugh. His breath emerged in great clouds between them.

"Not worth the waste of money."

Bakugou's mouth thinned.

"I'll give you money for a car."

This time Deku didn't smile, even if he was vaguely amused at the rich boy throwing around cash for someone as unimportant as Deku. Surprisingly sweet, but extremely misplaced and unwanted.

"Nah, that's not my life. Use your money for your own car."

"I don't—hey! You leavin'?"

Deku didn't turn back, only raised a hand in a wave as he glanced over his shoulder with a grin.

"Some of us have a schedule, Bakugou Katsuki!"

"Fuck off!" Bakugou's brassy, brazen voice carried easily as Deku dashed across the slushy street. "Call me Katsuki!"

"Yeah, okay, Kacchan!" Deku hollered back, babifying his name just to get a rise. At Bakugou's distant curse, it worked. Deku smiled the rest of the way to the market.

***

Deku did not see Bakugou Katsuki the next day.

The snowfall was unheard of. Record-breaking. Deku filmed the entire nightmare of getting home after his clients' dinner party. Even the trains, which never showed signs of breaking schedule, had struggled with icy tracks and extreme accumulation. 

Deku had slogged his way home, bone-tired, late, his jeans heavy and soaked up to the knees with snow that had clung and melted to him.

He set up his camera phone on a waiting tripod near the door just to film himself entering the apartment. Dumping all his shit on the ground. Running his hands through curls dark and matted and damp with melted snow. Kicking off his boots and stomping away for a shower.

After the shower, he'd wedged himself beneath the kotatsu, laying on his side, buried beneath the heated table and blanket up to his chest, and watched television with drooping eyes as he slurped bouillabaisse leftovers from a tall tupperware cylinder and let himself warm up in earnest.

He fell asleep there and woke up sweaty and disoriented to his 4am alarm.

Dazed and working on automatic, Deku had stumbled to the kitchen and set his kettle to boil for his French press. Leaned against the wall with one hand trailing along as if he were in a labyrinth instead of his tiny apartment as he got to the bedroom. Eyed his bed, cold and ignored in favor of accidentally sleeping on the damn floor. Stripped and dressed in a fitted, long sleeved henley of warm burnt orange and his one pair of pricey, sturdy khakis that sported a thin fleece inner lining.

Deku was sipping his coffee and wandering into the living area when he finally stared into the black, early morning cityscape.

"Holy shit." Deku scampered up to the window and pressed his free hand to the frosted glass. Wiped at the fog his breath left as leaned in close to gape.

His little balcony was snowed in by a good foot, maybe two. And the city was a swirling mass of snowfall, like full-on blizzard shit.

"Holy shit," Deku said again before he turned and dropped to the floor, abandoning his coffee on the table so he could check the weather on his phone.

Instead, he had waiting texts.

One from Bakugou Mitsuki and another from his afternoon client. Both of them canceled on him, telling him not to brave this weather when the news was reporting how badly shut down the city was with the unexpected storm.

Well.

Deku slowly set down his phone and beamed at absolutely nothing.

He had a free day. A snow day!

The first thing he did was strip down to his boxers and fling himself back in bed. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but he could edit his film from the big dinner party and his struggles with the snow. He could put on his playlist and sing along with nowhere to go. He could nap in the blessed, cocooned silence of the afternoon.

And he did. Deku did all of it. Absolutely basked in the day of nowhere to go and let himself have this.

Day two of the snow storm left him. . .antsy.

When was the last time he had done nothing for two days? Well, not nothing. Deku was working. He was editing vlogs and answering emails and working on future menus for his clients, but his body wasn't moving. He wasn't socializing or smiling at anyone or getting to exchange strange, uncertain words within Bakugou Katsuki or—

Okay, maybe Deku had been letting his mind wander a bit in regard to the guy. And maybe he wasn't everything Deku had expected. And maybe the way he smiled surprised and delighted Deku in ways he couldn't remember last experiencing. And maybe he missed not getting to make him that smoothie for a third morning.

And maybe Deku was latching onto the first guy in months who was half-decent to him because Deku was desperate and dick-hungry and hadn't been laid since leaves were still on the trees.

Deku's weekly panic spiral over whatever was eating at him on that particular day was paused by a notification on his phone. He nearly pounced on the phone for a distraction.

A comment in reply to Deku's thirty seconds short if him arriving home the night of the dinner party, smartly edited to enhance the natural sounds of him dropping his things and clunking around the genkan to a satisfying rhythm of movement.

          mrboom: shoulda accepted money for a car but here you are

Deku sputtered a laugh in disbelief, his cheeks aching with a smile as he quickly typed out a reply.

          dekudelicacies: here I am, home safe and sound, just as I anticipated. Funny how that works out

The reply came way too fast for Bakugou to be doing anything but hanging out in his phone. Maybe waiting on Deku.

          mrboom: stubborn as fuck

Deku's cheeks heated for some reason. It wasn't a pickup line. Wasn't a flirt. But Deku could hear the words in Bakugou's gruff voice and it sent him spiraling in a whole new way.

Without thinking, he opened up his DMs.

          dekudelicacies: you enjoying the snow?

          mrboom: stuck in the house with my parents? yeah it's like christmas and my birthday wrapped into one.

          dekudelicacies: they work from home a lot in their office. do they really bother you all they much?

          mrboom: whatever. they're just as bored as i am so they keep comin round to try and BOND with me or some shit.

          dekudelicacies: how awful for you to be so loved!

          mrboom: shut up

          mrboom: wyd

Deku startled at the message. Was this. . .a come on? He wasn't exactly well-versed but he wasn't clueless either. Deku got laid primarily through hook-ups. Easier than actually finding someone who liked him for his high intensity, high energy, high anxiety personality. He had always been too much. The only time he wasn't considered too much is when his passions were funneled through a an acceptable talent like cooking or fucking.

But this. . .this was someone who kind of knew Deku. Who had spent some time with him. Who had briefly bore at the brunt of his indignant fury of supposed homophobia. Who had seen Deku in the early morning hours, singing to himself and cooking while in the zone.

It was weird. Not even weird. Unthinkable.

So Bakugou was probably definitely not hitting on him and this was just a casual use of bro-speak.

          dekudelicacies: editing, filming test recipes, etc. can't not be doing something i guess.

          mrboom: yeah you seem revved up like 200% of the time

          dekudelicacies: so are you!

          mrboom: fuckin maybe idk

Deku sputtered a laugh. Bakugou was kind of cute. Undoubtedly hot. Intense. Honest. But cute was unexpected.

Before Deku could formulate any kind of reply, Bakugou texted again.

          mrboom: think you'll be back tomorrow? i want more of that weird smoothie

          dekudelicacies: lol you could make it yourself you know!

          mrboom: yeah but it's YOUR job

          mrboom: so tomorrow?

Deku couldn't help his short, disbelieving laugh as he shook his head at the words. This guy really was used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

          dekudelicacies: weather permitting. your mom is the one who called me out, maybe she will again

          mrboom: neither of my parents can cook for shit so they'll be gnawing their arms by tomorrow. they'll be begging to have you back

          dekudelicacies: im flattered, i think! see you maybe tomorrow then

Deku didn't wait for Bakugou to reply to his goodbye. He felt weird lingering over conversation with him. Like he couldn't tell what kind of tone their texts were meant to have. Deku was already bad at that as it was, let alone with an extremely hot, smart, openly gay guy his age.

With some effort, Deku put it out of his mind and got back to work.

***

Deku had already seen off both Bakugou parents to work, started on weekly lunch prep, and shifted into the beginnings of dinner by the time Bakugou, the youngest and hottest Bakugou, skulked into the kitchen and slumped against the fridge, arms folded across his chest.

Katsuki—because that's what he liked to be called, Deku reminded himself—shoved thumb and forefinger into his eyes, digging out the crusty sleep. Deku paused the even dice of sweet potato to take stock before Katsuki caught him.

The t-shirt was obviously old and a size too small, by the way it stretched across Katsuki's defined pecs and clung to the defined musculature of his arms. The pattern was loud, all bursting red and orange florals on a black background that was familiar enough for Deku to register it as some kind of design aligned with Mitsuki's fashion line.

In vast difference to the shirt, Katsuki's red sweats were oversized and loose, the string ties knotted tightly at the waist, but not right enough that they didn't slink down and peek the sharp vee of Katsuki's hip bones. Deku absorbed the obscenely low strip of pale skin before quickly dropping his attention back to sweet potatoes and prep.

"Coffee," Katsuki said by way of greeting. Not a morning person, confirmed.

"There's some left in the press." Deku set aside the cutting board clustered with diced potatoes and broccoli florets beside a bowl of washed, dried chickpeas. From the counter, he brought to him a giant, blooming green head of freshly washed kale. As Katsuki silently moved through the kitchen, Deku tightly rolled the huge leaves of kale and cut them in a relatively slim chiffonade, bright green confetti ribbons across the board.

Across the island, Katsuki fully leaned forward, his elbows and forearms to the counter, a mug cupped in both hands. He sipped quietly, those sunrise eyes assessing Deku's progress as he quickly cut his way through the kale and dumped it in a huge wooden bowl.

Deku hesitated, glancing at his phone, all set up with its clip-on ring light and camera mount. Like an antenna, the mount stretched high up, just above Deku's eye-height, and the phone faced directly down to film his hands and the food.

It was weirdly embarrassing to do this with Katsuki around. Or, frankly, anyone around. Deku liked his little social media bubble of foodies because they understood, and because none of them were actually here to watch the 'magic' happen.

Whatever. Deku wasn't about to let a weird not-crush on an uninterested college boy fuck up his filming. He had a goddamn winter nourishment bowl to film.

The entire inner turmoil couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds before Deku was pulling the bowl properly in frame. Grating in salt and pepper, drizzling extra virgin olive oil, and freshly squeezed lemon. Resolutely, Deku dug his hands into the plentiful salad and began to massage the tough leaves into soft, edible submission.

"What the fuck're you doing?"

"Uhhh, massaging the kale."

"Massaging the kale," Katsuki repeated, a sardonic smile in his voice.

Deku shrugged and set the bowl aside, pointedly not making eye contact as he turned to wash his hands.

"Kale is super fibrous and can be tough to chew and digest unless you massage it and break it down a little. You'll see when you eat it later. Can you grab me a few sheet pans?"

When Katsuki didn't answer, Deku dried his hands on his apron and turned, his eyebrows expectantly raised.

"You don't know where anything is, do you?" Deku asked, grinning.

Katsuki's shoulders curled in on themselves as he clung his coffee cup close to his chin and glowered.

"Whatever. I barely live here, okay? Fuck off."

"Uh huh." Deku couldn't wipe his smile away as he rounded the island and came up directly behind Katsuki. With his chest almost pressed to the wide, muscled expanse of Katsuki's back, Deku leaned in, his arm brushing Katsuki's hip as he slid outward the secret skinny drawer that housed the flat baking trays inside the island.

A loud, metallic clatter clanged through the kitchen as Deku grabbed three in his grip and quickly stepped away, taking them with.

"Now you know," Deku said as he returned to his station and began to lay out the trays for roasting veggies and crisping chickpeas.

At the prevailing silence, Deku glanced up to find Katsuki unmoving. Staring at Deku with a look on his face that Deku couldn't read. Deku cocked his head and smiled, curious.

"What?"

Katsuki blinked. Shook his head and stomped out of the room, taking his coffee with him. Shortly after, the shush of the shower started up from the hallway bathroom, and Deku blasted some feel-good music from the Bakugous' omnipresent virtual assistant program and got to filming, cooking, and roasting.

The next time Katsuki emerged, it was from his bedroom where he'd been holed up for a good couple of hours. He'd change into a very lowkey matching Adidas tracksuit in black and white, unzipped with a plain white tank clinging to his chest and abs, his nipples apparent through the thin cloth.

By comparison, Deku probably smelled like ultra spicy bird's eye chili, garlic, and sugar he was cooking down into Thai sweet chili sauce to slather over salmon. His jean apron was wrinkled from drying and wiping his hands on them too many times, and his cargo pants and tee came from the floor where he'd dropped his clean laundry like three days ago.

"I'm hungry as fuck," Katsuki said, wandering in and sniffing at the gargantuan, rainbow winter salad Deku had completed. It sat on the counter waiting to be doled out into different containers, bright with jeweled pomegranate seeds and salty white feta, the spiced chickpeas and roasted veggies. "I'm eating this."

Before Deku could grab him a bowl, Katsuki unearthed a spoon and sat at the island to dig in.

"There are plates around," Deku said, looking on as Katsuki proceeded to shovel salad into his mouth.

"Saves you a dish to wash," Katsuki said while chewing, his attention solely on the salad as he stirred it around with his spoon.

"You can be the one to tell your mom that you put all your mouth germs in there, then." Deku returned to the small pot where he was monitoring the chili sauce for burning.

"I came out of her vagina," Katsuki said from behind. "I doubt she'll care."

Well, mother and son were certainly related. Straightforward as hell.

"What the fuck is this music?" Katsuki asked after a couple of minutes. They were successfully existing in the same space without drama, but Deku couldn't help but reason it was because Katsuki's mouth was busy and Deku was concentrating on something that wasn't the sexy, self-composed guy sitting in the kitchen.

Deku turned and poured the fragrant, punchy sauce into a small bowl to cool.

"It's my work music. I usually use headphones when people are around, but I didn't think you'd mind. Is it fine?"

Katsuki frowned as he chewed, his head cocked just a little to listen.

"Pretty gay," he said.

Deku gestured to himself.

"I'm pretty gay."

"Yeah?" Katsuki swallowed and pushed aside the bowl, his hot eyes briefly dragging Deku's frame. An almost physical touch.

Deku didn't know how to react to that kind of question, since they basically already had this conversation, so he just shrugged and headed for the fridge. Opened the door and let his burning face cool down in the gust of cold.

"You should come out tonight with my friends," Katsuki said from behind him. Like, directly behind him, holy shit.

Deku whipped around, one long slab of hot pink salmon on a massive platter in his hands, a shield between the two of them.

"What, in this weather?" Deku asked, fully aware he sounded like a grandpa and a stick in the mud. To make it worse, he said, "I have to work in the morning."

Deku tried to sidestep Katsuki, but Deku was practically pressed into the open fridge with how close Katsuki was standing. Despite their relatively even heights, Katsuki felt big, tall, looming over him with stern, searching expression that Deku couldn't read.

"When do you not work?" Katsuki asked. Jeez, this guy was fucking relentless.

"Sunday," Deku managed to say. Katsuki smelled good. Like chai and leather, spicy and warm. "But I'm not—I mean to say, uh, going out isn't exactly my, my thing. Like, clubbing or whatever?"

Not exactly true and not exactly a lie. Deku got unpredictable when drunk. His friendly nature exponentially expanded and he got too loose, too easy. He was always the guy his friends had to watch out for, having an assigned handler, to make sure he didn't get himself into trouble. The last thing Deku needed was one of his client's kids finding out what a fucking maniac he turned into after a few drinks and a song with a sexy bassline.

"How old are you, fifty?" Katsuki asked with a smirk. They still hadn't moved. Deku's ass was so cold but his face was so damn hot. This was getting ridiculous.

"I'm twenty-one, thank you very much."

Deku resolutely shouldered Katsuki out of the way and slipped past him, back to his safe side of the island.

"I'm gonna be gone before Saturday," Katsuki said, slamming the fridge door shut with too much force before he turned to place both hands on the island counter, his shoulders hunching up as he eyed Deku. "Heading back to school. Come on, come out with us."

Deku resolutely took his huge, sharp kitchen knife and eyed the salmon. He'd cut so many seven ounce portions of fish in his day that he could cut them to nearly a tee. Without answering at first, he began his delicate cuts, cleanly slicing five portions.

Finally, he set down the knife and looked up, finding Katsuki still standing there, watching him work. He had such a serious face most of the time that Deku was vaguely amazed that he'd caught so many smiles from him in the short time they'd known each other.

"Why?" Deku asked quietly. Knew he was coming off shy and insecure, but didn't know how to be bold with something like this. People his age just didn't hang out with him. Not people outside of his old school friends, anyway.

"Why not?" Katsuki said, shrugging and dropping his hands from the counter. A non-answer if there ever was one.

Deku didn't want to say it out loud. Point out the disparities between them. Not simply between their obvious class difference, but in who Katsuki was as a person versus who Deku was. Fumbling through life, making his little videos, cooking meals he could never afford.

"I'll think about it," Deku said, returning to his work. He had peppers and onions to slice, parcels of parchment paper to fill with individual portions. Food that Katsuki would eat, maybe. Food that Deku wanted Katsuki to enjoy because it was the only way he knew how to show someone he liked them without embarrassing himself.

"Well, don't think too fuckin' long." Katsuki folded his arms on the counter and leaned in, his face raised to grin at Deku. And fuck, was that a smile. Who the hell had a smile like that? Famous people or something. "I'll text you about it. Don't disappoint me."

Of course he would say the one thing that cut Deku's Achilles heel. Fuck this guy.

***

"Please tell me you're pulling out the leather pants," Ochako said, her voice tinny from the speakerphone.

Deku, who was actually laying on his bed, his feet flat to the mattress, hips in the air so he could grunt and struggle into said leather pants, only wheezed in reply.

"Yesss," Ochako said. "Nice. I'm so proud of you for putting yourself out there like this."

"I'm not stepping out into society like a Regency maiden," Deku muttered, his face heating as he zipped up the pants that barely clung over the curve of his ass. He stood up and turned, checked that the pants even still fit. It was a close thing. He'd muscled up a little more since the last time he'd worn these; more meat in the ass and thighs than before, his waist sturdier instead of simply scrawny.

"You may as well be for how often you blush and shy away from the outside world," Ochako said, brutal as ever.

"Whatever. I don't even know why I'm doing this. I don't want to impress the guy, I just want to prove that I'm not fifty years old."

"Anyone looking at you would know you're not fifty, Deku."

"You know what I mean." Shirtless, Deku rustled through his closet and sighed. "I don't want him to think I'm. . .boring."

"You really like him, huh?"

"Not really." Deku pulled out a boxy white BlackPink tee with hot pink scrawl. It was too short in the waist and showed off his midriff when he raised his arms. "Maybe. It's just, I don't know if he likes me. I don't know why he invited me out in the first place. I think he might feel bad for me. Like he's doing me a favor or something by inviting me out with his uni friends. Kinda wanna prove to him that I'm more fun than he could ever imagine."

"Ahhh. So, you're unleashing Party Deku."

Deku pulled on the shirt and eyed himself in the full length mirror inside his closet door. He looked younger than usual like this, but less cute, more fuckboy, and he was good with that. For one night only, anyway. He had something to prove.

"Maybe."

"Well, I know you'll blow them all away, in that case. Or, you know, blow him, specifically. If that's the goal."

Deku sputtered a laugh and shut the closet door.

"Maybe."

"Deku!" Ochako sounded thrilled. "You slut."

"Thank you," Deku said, smiling in earnest now as he shoved his mess of clothes of the bed in preparation for his return tonight. "It's nice to hear that again."

"You're so much more twisted than you let anyone realize."

"It's all in the baby face."

"You're preaching to the choir."

After a little more catching up, Deku let his friend go, spritzed himself with rarely used cologne, and finally texted Katsuki like he said he would. Late in the evening, as if he'd only decided to go last minute.

          dekudelicacies: so where are we meeting?

          mrboom: knew you wouldn't let me down

Deku recognized the club because it was one of the only gay clubs he enjoyed going to back when he did things like dance and have fun with people his own age.

He stood in line and texted Katsuki that he'd arrived, waiting to get in. He wasn't sure how quickly Katsuki would reply, considering he was undoubtedly having a blast with his friends.

So when less than two minutes later, Katsuki bust out the front doors and into the cold without a coat, his brow glistening with sweat, his body radiating the heat of the club as he shoved through the line to grin at Deku, well—

Deku smiled up at him, just a little dazzled and a lot confused.

"Hey," Katsuki said, sounding breathless. He must have been dancing.

"Hi." Deku kept his chin tucked into his long puffer coat, one that covered him from half his face to his knees. He may have been dressed like younger Deku underneath, but outer, older Deku understood the benefit of wearing a coat regardless of ruining the vibe. "You didn't have to come out. I'll be in soon."

"Fuck that. Come on." Katsuki gripped Deku's arm and began to pull him up and forward. He nodded at the bouncer, who seemed to he know him, and let them through.

"Well that seems unfair," Deku murmured as he cast a concerned glance over his shoulder, catching the glare of some girls before the door shut.

"Check your coat," Katsuki said, dragging him over to the bored looking attendant behind the counter. Deku did as he was told, all the while making a point not to sneak glances at Katsuki while he stripped his outerwear and handed it off.

Unfortunately, Deku's self control wasn't the best when it came to Katsuki, and so he definitely looked.

And Katsuki was looking back. Staring with a dark, thunderous expression that rolled over Deku's body with electric intensity, up and down and then again.

A shudder sparked through Deku and he visibly shivered, though certainly not from the cold. Deku's skin tingled beneath Katsuki's direct, uninhibited assessment.

"Drinks?" Deku asked, cocking his head with the best smile he could muster. Whatever was happening here was not something Deku could tackle without getting something in him to smooth out the anxious edges. So sue him.

Katsuki licked his lips and nodded. Looked away, the long line of his throat glittering with a single flat link gold chain that probably cost a year of Deku's income. His shirt was deep burgundy and open to the third button, rolled to the elbow, and tucked into black jeans ripped from the knees and up the thighs. Deku wanted to sneak his fingers between the slits and smooth them over the soft, golden skin of Katsuki's muscular thigh.

Instead, he dutifully followed Katsuki through the club, watching the shift of Katsuki's ass in those jeans as he weaved between clusters of colorful queers. At one point, Deku almost lost him and he reached out on automatic, his fingers hooking in the belt loop at the small of Katsuki's back.

Katsuki abruptly looked over his shoulder with a sour expression that instantly melted when he realized what Deku was doing. That sharp, handsome smile carved across his face and effectively floored Deku again. He weakly smiled back and continued to trail behind him, attached.

At the bar, Katsuki stood behind Deku, the full, fit length of his body carved against the contours of Deku's ass, back, and thighs. One hand rested on the bar, a strong arm against Deku's waist while Katsuki's free hand signaled up beside Deku's head. The club wasn't packed to the gills, considering it was a Wednesday, but it was also winter break and so primarily pumped full of college age gays. The music was thunderous with bass and liquid lyrics shaking the floor.

Top it like a cherry, yeah this drink is almost empty, wanna leave but I'm not ready.

When the bartender came around—a tall, grumpy looking guy who took pause to eye Deku from head to toe, Deku grinned and ordered himself a couple of vodka and soda with lime. Then he thought on it and ordered a second one. He tended to knock back the first drink and dive right into the second if he was looking to get quickly and efficiently obliterated.

"You got a drink?" Deku asked, leaning back into Katsuki and glancing over his shoulder so Katsuki could better hear. "Do you have a table?"

"My friends got one," Katsuki said, leaning in to bring his mouth to Deku's ear. His lips brushed the sensitive curve of Deku's ear, shimmering a smoldering little spark down Deku's spine. He'd forgotten how it could feel to simply flirt for the sake of it. "You dance, freckles?"

Wanna get to know me? If you could only, if you could only, top it like a cherry, top it like a cherry.

Deku caught Katsuki's eye and let himself smile slowly, mischievous.

"Yeah, I dance. Lemme get these drinks in me first."

The bartender appeared with his double order and Katsuki hollered to put it on his tab before he placed a possessive hand on Deku's waist—right over the bare skin, hot palm beneath Deku's slightly cropped tee—and began to lead Deku forward through the crowd.

The song switched over to something Deku knew by heart and immediately the most moved through him, rattled his bones awake, and reminded him what it felt like to let go. Grinning to everyone and no one, Deku let himself be guided by both of Katsuki's proprietary hands on his waist as he made a point to knock back drink number one before they reached the corner table of purple pleather booths and black, sticky surface littered with glasses half full.

"DEKU!" Cheered a riot of people before Deku could register a single face.

"Me!" he hollered back, grinning as he held out his second drink in a greeting. "Hi!"

"You remember us?" some guy asked.

"No," Deku replied, but he smiled to soften the blow as he considered everyone jammed into the tables.

"We remember you ," said a girl who Deku actually did remember now because of those neon pink braids that must trail right down to her ass if she weren't sitting. "Bakugou, is this really your shy little chef from New Years?"

"Go fuck yourself," Katsuki replied easily. He'd sidled up beside Deku, frowning briefly as he took Deku's first empty drink and set it on the table. "Deku, these assholes are my buddies from school. Nosy pink bitch is Mina, purple troll is Shinsou, sleazy stoner is Sero, blonde twink is Denki, and that ugly bastard is Kirishima."

"Why am I ugly!" Kirishima wailed.

"Babyyy," Mina crooned, taking his face in both hands to plant kisses across his face. Her nails were extraordinarily long claws printed with neon green cheetah spots. "You're so handsome! That bitch is just jealous as fuck because he'll never see five foot eight no matter how tall his boots are."

Deku frowned thoughtfully and glanced down at Katsuki's shoes. The gesture must have been so obvious that the entire table burst into laughter and Katsuki only shot him a red-faced glare.

"So, are we doing shots now that the guest of honor is here?" said the black haired guy with a big mouth and alarmingly tropical palm tree shirt. Sero, Deku's hazing brain supplied as he drank long and quick from his vodka soda, the tang of lime lighting up the back of his tongue. He was going to need another one soon.

Everyone seemed to yell in the same key and Sero scooted out from the booth. He patted Deku's shoulder all buddy-buddy, and holy shit, he had hands the size of shovels.

"You got a liquor of choice?"

Deku smiled.

"I can take whatever you throw at me."

"Oooh." This came from Shinsou with the wildly purple hair. His lazy smirk was handsome, but the way he looked Deku up and down had him instinctively pressing closer to Katsuki by a half step. To Deku's muted shock, Katsuki casually wrapped an arm around his waist like this was just something they did. "Can you hold your drink, Deku?"

"Guess you'll have to find out," Deku replied evenly. He had no problem holding his own now that he was closer to his element. Slowly getting buzzed, surrounded by music that thumped through his heart, with a thirsty guy very obviously trying to get on Deku's good side enough to gain entry into his pants by the end of the night.

Deku had been here before. Years had passed since then. Since work and drive and dedication had sucked every ounce of spontaneity out of him, but tonight, he was invited. Tonight, these were his friends, and Deku belonged.

"We thought you weren't coming," Mina said. She leaned her elbow on the table so she could hunch past Kirishima and Denki, her cat-eye makeup pitch black but glittering like a disco ball when she lowered her gaze to eye Deku like she was window shopping. "Our boy was being a miserable shit."

"Shut the fuck up, I wasn't." Katsuki's arm tightened around Deku's waist. He looked at Deku, who glanced up at him with some surprise to realize their faces were so close. Katsuki's breath smelled like maraschino cherries and some kind of alcoholic burn. "I wasn't. Just figured you were gonna ghost."

"Well, I'm here." Holding eye contact, Deku brought his glass to his lips and tossed back the rest, relishing the bubbly burn. "And I didn't come here to stand around and talk. Did you?"

Katsuki looked surprised by that for some reason. He wet his lips, pink tongue, and shook his head, his fire eyes locked on Deku's.

"SHOTS!" Sero yelled, returning with a tray. "Doubles for all!"

"I'm going to die," Denki said, earning a hearty laugh of absolutely no one caring. True friendship. "I'm trying to pace myself, guys!"

"For what?" Shinsou grinned at him from across the table as Sero doled out the shots to everyone.

"My family wants us to go skiing tomorrow! I don't wanna puke down the mountain!"

"At least you'd have an interesting story to tell afterward," Deku said. Everyone stared at him and he shrugged, glancing down to his shot glass. "I mean, if you were doing a vacation vlog or something."

"He's a big shot on the internet," Katsuki said. "Almost half a million followers, right?"

What the fuck. Deku stared balefully at Katsuki, the mortification settling heavy and tight over his previous ease, suffocating everything.

"Uh, I dunno," Deku muttered, even though he very well knew. Everyone here didn't need to know, though. People already thought regular influencers were freaks, let alone the foodies.

"We know, B," Mina said, rolling her eyes. "How many times are you gonna brag about your boyfriend? Shots, it's time for shots!"

What the fuck.

"Shots!" Kirishima cheered, holding out his glass.

"Shots!" Deku hastily hollered, because he absolutely wasn't about to make any kind of eye contact with the man suddenly still and silent beside him. They all drink, including Katsuki, though he was slower on the uptake and the last one to finish drinking.

"Dance!" Mina called over the music.

"Dancing!" Deku yelled in return as he whirled for the rainbow-lit dance floor. Any noise and action to move away from the teasing that threatened to crack his party boy mask. He'd spent so much time and energy getting himself to this point—he wasn't about to fuck this up for himself before he even got a dance in.

And dance they did. Deku backed up into the crowd, one finger delicately hooked in the gold necklace glittering at Katsuki's tawny throat, leading him along with barely enough pressure to threaten the chain. Apparently that was all the incentive Katsuki needed because he followed doggedly, lips parted as if to speak, even when such a feat would be instant failure in the dead center of the dancing.

Surrounded by the safety of Katsuki's friends, Deku circled his arms loosely around Katsuki's broad shoulders and let go. He wasn't an exceptional dancer by any standards but he knew how to move his body, especially as lubricated as it was with liquor. Knew how to make a man's eyes get hot on him, an iron grip on his hips to keep him close as he rolled his body against the needy clutch of another's.

Deku may not be a dancer but he knew this dance. Before the world put on the pressure, demanding diamonds from him when he was fumbling coal. But he sparkled now, his head light and bubbling, his limbs bubbling like champagne, his laugh flowing like the free drinks that kept appearing for him as time spun wildly out of control.

Caught in the whirlwind of swimming lights and drowning beats, Deku found himself spinning out and into Shinsou's hold, his tall, slim frame an altogether different experience from Katsuki's fit, bracing body. Shinsou's smile wasn't predatory or sleazy, though, just delighted and deeply amused as Deku let out a laugh and linked his fingers up high at the nape of Shinsou's neck.

Behind him, another body. Deku couldn't see but they felt soft and plush, smelled like spice and orchids and sex, small hands on Deku's waist, overlapping the wide spread of Shinsou's long fingers. Dizzy, Deku leaned into it, eyes falling shut, inhaling hard but finding no solid footing as he swayed between their arms.

A yelp caught in Deku's throat as a new grip clasped Deku's forearm and dragged him from the sweaty grind. Blinking out of it, Deku spun and landed in a now-familiar embrace.

"Kacchan!" Deku beamed up at the apocalyptic doom of his date's faces. "I found you!"

"You found—" Katsuki snapped his mouth shut and squeezed at his shut eyes with thumb and forefinger, his free hand still pressing firmly into the small of Deku's back, keeping them plastered together. Shaking his head, Katsuki dropped his hand, his palm smoothing down the side of Deku's throat and holding him in place as if worried Deku was going anywhere fast.

Joke was on Katsuki because Deku wasn't entirely sure he could go anywhere fast for a very long time with the way his skull was spiraling.

"You're here for me," Katsuki snapped, his face scrunched in a way that was kind of cute in its sweet immaturity. "Did you forget?"

Deku laughed, joy and something darker bursting through him, guiding his hands to card through Katsuki's carefully styled hair. Their noses bumped and Katsuki inhaled sharply. The heavy bass beat of the music bled into the buzzing air between them. Deku smiled, his lips skimming Katsuki's parted ones, and those strong, sure hands flexed at the small of Deku's back and slid lower to take his ass in both hands, squeezing.

A sigh breathed out between them, Deku melting into the reassuring weight of Katsuki's frame. Their mouths smeared together once, twice, and then there was a growl, and a clash of tongues, teeth scraping over sloppily opened mouths, all delicacy abandoned before they'd even begun.

Oh, kissing Bakugou Katsuki was a fucking feast. Flavor and scent, texture and heat as they ate at each other, their hands grappling at each other's bodies right there on the dance floor. Deku's hands found Katsuki's bared chest, the cloth giving way to his spreading, hungry hands as a button dropped between them.

"Come on," Deku mumbled against Katsuki's lips, egging him on to fuck knew what, just more. More than this. God, he'd been starving for so long. "Come on, come on."

"Yeah?" Katsuki yanked back, his fists bunched in the back of Deku's shirt, hiking up higher, their bellies pressed together, chests hot and heating. "Yeah?" Katsuki asked again, his lips swollen and his eyes fire bright, searing on Deku's burning face.

"Yeah," Deku breathed out before launching into him, arms taking him in close, mouths instantly meeting like they'd been doing this longer than a night.

Clumsy but unified, they essentially dragged each other off the floor and away, barely able to part long enough to see where they were going. When Deku did realize their direction, he groaned with instant displeasure.

"Not in the fucking bathroom," Deku murmured against Katsuki's lips. He had both hands on the collar of Katsuki's shirt and began to drag him, their feet fumbling around each other in a hasty dance as Deku turned them again, walking Katsuki backwards, their parted, panting mouths still hungry and hot on each other. "That place is nasty."

"Need t'get my hands on you," Katsuki said as he pulled back. Their eyes briefly locked, and Katsuki's eyes were black, his starving gaze straying over Deku's face. "Now."

Deku glanced past Katsuki toward the bathroom and saw what he'd been hoping was still there.

"C'mon," he murmured, though he was sure his voice was drowned by the dense bass and syrupy sex music drenching the club. He released Katsuki only to grip his wrist and pull.

The confusion on Katsuki's face when Deku yanked back the thick velvet curtain of the photobooth had Deku laughing out loud. He shoved Katsuki inside, watching him thunk to the bench seat, and yanked the curtain closed. The drape of fabric was only half the length of the booth—enough to see that someone was sitting in there.

Enough to see Deku's knees as they hit the floor, his body snug between Katsuki's legs.

Anyone giving the booth a glance would know what was going on in here and, frankly, Deku didn't give a fuck. In fact, he'd done this before, a long long time ago. He liked it. The thrill.

And if Katsuki's dumbfounded, gaping expression had anything to say about it, he was getting with the program too.

"You good?" Deku asked, his hands already whipping Katsuki's heavy metal belt open, his fingers nimble on the zip. The sound of the club was numbed behind the curtain, which only heightened the intimate sound of their breathing, of Katsuki's zipper going down, of Katsuki's gasp as Deku pulled out his sizable cock and gave it a few test pulls with his dry fist.

The dim light from the automated screen behind Deku's head glowed across Katsuki's face. The color was high on his cheeks and he still looked dazed; much less cocky and confident than he did during their dance and all the events of their relationship leading up to this point.

But Katsuki swallowed and nodded and Deku smiled, his eyes on Katsuki's as he idly worked the long, throbbing dick in his hand, smearing damp over the head with the cup of his palm. Katsuki's teeth glinted in the poor lighting as he clamped down on a moan, all pretty, subtly sharp incisors that had Deku's skin tingling with the possibility of being bitten.

"I'm gonna suck your dick, okay?" Deku grinned, his head cocked a little as he considered Katsuki's expression.

He loved this moment. Had missed it. The power of it, the control he found in taking over situations like this. His life was an unending riot of chaos and unpredictability, but this. Here, this, he knew. He knew he could have a man puddled and panting in his hands and on his tongue. Knew what he could do and loved to do it.

He just hadn't wanted to do it in too long. Katsuki's pushy personality and confidence surged Deku's own hunger to the surface, where he was so used to feeding other people instead.

"Yeah," Katsuki rasped out, his own mouth curving in response to Deku's grin. "Suck my dick. Bet you're real good with that pretty mouth."

"My tongue can do one better," Deku murmured, but his gaze had already lowered, distracted.

He held Katsuki's cock steady at the base, squeezing a little and watching the bead of moisture pearl at the smooth tip of his cock. His mouth watered.

Unable to wait, Deku raised his eyes wide to Katsuki's face and hunched in to slide his lips down that cock in one slow, testing swoop. Deku didn't stop until he met his hand and choked a little; came up, licked his lips and went down a second time, looser, more relaxed as his mouth again met his hand with ease.

Katsuki's moan was fucking pornographic, no holding back at all. Sparks surged through Deku's body in reply and he hummed around the thick, hot length in his mouth, bobbing slowly, idly, savoring the heated skin and salt taste, the sound of Katsuki's broken voice bouncing off the tiny booth, the pleasant burn in his aching knees, the way his saliva began to drip and pool around his hand still flexing and faintly fucking up and down the base.

Deku popped off Katsuki's cock the moment Katsuki began to raise his hips, vaguely attempting to thrust into his mouth. At some point, Deku had closed his eyes, melting into the molten pleasure that came from sucking a nice, big dick. But he opened them now, licking his swelling lips as he eyed Katsuki's flushed cheeks and parted mouth. His chest moved with each shallow breath, the gold glint of his necklace catching light and flashing like a star at his pulse. Katsuki's hands curled hard around the edge of the bench on the outside of his legs, gripping with white knuckles.

That was sweet. Not yanking and pulling on Deku like he was some kind of fuck toy.

Sweet but misplaced.

"You wanna fuck my mouth, big guy?" Liquid courage coursed through Deku's blood, every ounce of alcohol from the night rushing to collide with his desire in a sloppy, chaotic mess. "This just what you've wanted since you saw me, huh?"

"Wh—no." Katsuki shook his head and swallowed tightly, his gaze raking hot, fiery coals over Deku's face, lingering on his mouth, then back up. "Not—I hadn't thought it would be like this —"

"Sure, okay."

Deku inched his fingers up the slits on Katsuki's jeans, fingertips digging into the golden skin peeking out and savoring the muscle heat radiating from his thighs. Eyes locked on Katsuki's wide ones, he unpeeled Katsuki's fingers from the bench and guided them to his curls.

"Hold on to me," Deku said. When Katsuki's grip tightened, a delicate sting to his scalp, Deku smiled one more time and took Katsuki's entire length into his mouth.

This wasn't the best angle to deep throat and he wasn't going to try—too drunk and uncoordinated for that right now—but Deku moaned around the weight of that gorgeous, thick dick and let himself go. Sucked messy and hurried, panted hard against the soft, veined skin as he lapped long, adoring licks up the steely length of it, shoving his face lower as he grabbed at Katsuki's jeans and edged them down, down enough that he could lick at his balls, inhale the spicy, masculine musk of him, the gentle fur of his inner thigh pressed warmly to Deku's cheek.

When Deku came up for air, he was met with Katsuki's expression once more, and it wasn't what he expected at all. Sure, he was overwhelmed, and that was good. And yeah, he looked just shy of coming from the intense attention to his dick alone, and Deku had barely gotten to properly suck him off.

But when Deku looked up, it was the wrinkle between Katsuki's brows and the way he released Deku's hair to cup his face in both hands that gave him pause.

"What?" Deku rasped, anxiety instantly tightening in his chest, his skin starting to feel too stretched across his bones. "You don't want this?"

"Fuck," Katsuki breathed out. He seemed to grow distracted, thumbing at Deku's lower lip, shuddering out a breath when Deku lightly took it between his teeth and bit down, the tip of his tongue tasting the pad. "I—fuck, you gotta stop that shit. Deku, I didn't—I dunno what the fuck I thought, but you're—you're like, really fuckin' drunk and I didn't think I cared that you were 'til—"

"Oh, fuck you very much." Deku abruptly stood, the entire world wavering his his vision as he shoved at Katsuki's shoulders with both hands. "Fuck you! I know exactly what I want. You don't want me? Your dick says otherwise—"

Under any other circumstances, it would have been comical when they both pointedly looked down to where Katsuki's dick was very much still interested in the situation, and the only part of him that wasn't clothed.

Unfortunately, Deku was embarrassed and pissed. His eyes were watering and it wasn't from goddamn deep throating.

"So, what?" Deku said as he watched Katsuki attempt to tame his dick back into his pants and fumble with the belt buckle. "You came here to get me wasted and fuck and now you don't wanna? I thought that's what you rich dicks liked to do. No other reason you'd be inviting someone like me here."

"Someone like you?" Katsuki looked up at him and suddenly seemed excessively young. All fox faced and sharp featured, a pretty little rich boy through and through, but then his expression did something complicated that Deku's brain couldn't comprehend under the influence. "Deku, hold up, the fuck you mean—"

"Whatever." Deku couldn't take this level of rejection. Not when he'd put himself out here like this. "Fuck off back to where you came from."

Ignoring the damp in his thick voice, Deku pointedly flicked off Katsuki once, then stumbled out of the hot and muggy photo booth, into the even hotter club. He rushed and stumbled through the dance floor and toward the coat check. When he glanced over his shoulder and saw Katsuki making a break for him, Deku ditched his coat altogether and bolted from the building altogether.

The doorman asked if he wanted a hand stamp to return and Deku was fairly certain he slurred, I'd rather fucking die, before he sprinted down the street and around the snowy corner.

He was such a fucking idiot.

***

They didn't speak for the rest of the week.

Katsuki had said he was leaving for school on Saturday, and it was Sunday, rolling into Monday. Deku knew he could expect an entirely average day at the Bakugou household without their hot, privileged son to lord over him with sexy smirks and cinnamon eyes.

Just thinking about the way Deku had acted made his entire body tense up on itself, embarrassment and shame clutching at his stuttering heart, his skin physically crawling with the memory. He avoided Ochako's calls and texts asking about the event, and was glad he had timed posts on social media to do the weekend work for him so Deku didn't have to attempt to create new content.

He still filmed his days on automatic, because this was his hustle and once he was clear headed he would be able to tackle what was required of him. He still went to work and did his job, albeit with a few more knife cuts, burns, and scrapes to show for it. He wasn't falling apart just because some hot guy with a good smile and a surprisingly fun disposition didn't want a blowie from him.

He absolutely was not.

On Monday, Deku dragged himself to the markets. Made small talk with Rody, even if his heart wasn't in it, and turned him down for a Sunday taste test at his apartment. He wasn't in the mood. Not for friends, not for anything. Deku's capacity for embarrassment and turmoil was larger than most anyone he'd ever known, and he simply needed time. 

Monday with the Bakugous went about as expected. Mitsuki fluttered and flapped around him like a larger than life whirlwind while her husband erred on the outskirts of her contained chaos, working through the wake she left behind. They continued to be charming, if not a bit perplexing in their relationship dynamic, but Deku thought he liked them more because of their joyful dysfunction, rather than the opposite.

After they left, Deku allowed himself to exhale. He'd been holding himself tightly, waiting for some kind of mention of Katsuki, or that they might have known Deku came along to the club, but there was nothing. Not even a passing thought for their son returning to university after winter break.

Determined to put this entire mess to bed, Deku put on his good mood playlist, blasting it through the apartment as he began his dinner prep. Eventually, the music began to move though him, a levity eased into his step as he worked his hips to the music, it's just a sweet sweet fantasy baby, when I close my eyes, you come and you take me, and soon he was singing along, feeling at ease for the first time in days, I'm in heaven with my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend, there's no beginning and there is no end.

"I stand corrected," a familiar voice said from behind Deku as he gasped and whipped around to face Katsuki. "This is definitely the gayest shit you've played to date."

"What the fuck!" Deku didn't have the brainpower to both turn off the music and fathom Katsuki's presence, so Mariah Carey continued to croon about her make believe boyfriend and Deku continued to gape at the man standing in the entryway of the kitchen in his fashionable winter coat and snowy boots. His nose was red from the cold and his beanie was dotted with errant snowflakes. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, that never gets old," Katsuki said, grinning. Just as quickly, he seemed to recall why he was here and sobered up. "I wanted to talk to you."

Deku pulled the hand towel from over his shoulder to give himself something to grip between both hands.

"You? Talk to me?" he asked in his best casual voice, which was honestly the worst. Deku had no chill. "You're supposed to be back at school."

"I am back at school." Katsuki pulled off his hat and shoved it into the pocket of his coat as he invaded the safety of Deku's world. The cold clung to his coat, radiating out the closer he got to Deku. "I mean, not at this very—fuck. You make me talk too much. Pisses me off."

Deku avoided Katsuki's gaze and found it easier to turn away. He spoke as he headed for the fridge and stuck his head in for lack of anything better.

"Great, so if you don't want to talk and I don't want to talk—"

The door slammed and Katsuki was standing there with a wrathful expression, his hand firmly planted on the fridge to keep Deku from escaping back into it.

"Just shut the fuck up and let me say what I gotta say before you run away again."

Deku gawked.

"I'm not going anywhere." He tried to open the fridge door and Katsuki slammed it shut. "I'm at work." Attempted open, forceful shut. Deku's face burned as he tried again and failed. "You can go, though. Back to—"

"Where I came from, right. Look, I think we got a little—"

"What?" Deku whirled on him then, meeting Katsuki's eyes with his own burning ones. "What did we get?"

Katsuki frowned deeply as his gaze flicked away and back, settling resolutely on Deku's despondent expression.

"Confused. Me. Not you. I got fuckin'. . .confused."

"Me too." Deku frowned up at Katsuki, trying and failing not to pout. He hated it when he pouted like some kid. "I mean, I'm confused. I thought you. . .it's what you wanted."

"Yeah, I—" Katsuki's face scrunched, kind of cute, kind of gremlin, as he glanced away, running his hand through his hair, aggressively scratching the back of his head as he looked off over Deku's shoulder. "I don't— do this, or whatever. People like you. Nice guys."

"Nice guys?" Deku's brows jolted toward his hairline. "I'm not following."

Katsuki tsk'ed and shot Deku a sharp, dark look.

"I dunno what happened, okay? I don't usually—nice guys are complicated, y'know?"

Deku felt like they were talking in circles. Both of them were clearly shit at this.

"No. How?"

Katsuki made a sharp noise of aggravation, but didn't run. His gaze wandered, flitting away and back to Deku.

"You're not like other guys," he said simply, and holy fuck, holy shit did that surge through Deku like the strongest, darkest shot of espresso. He shivered, goosebumps skimming his arms as he stared at Katsuki, unable to unearth a reply to a statement he'd never encountered in his life. Katsuki seemed to take the silence as something else, because he heaved a sigh and looked severely put out as he added, "I don't date. I fuck, y'know? I'm in school and I've got standards that no one at a club or app is gonna meet."

"You're not exactly the epitome of Prince Charming, either," Deku said flatly.

"Whatever. What I'm sayin' is, you're not some app guy. You're like, a nice, decent dude, out here bustin' his ass at his job, excelling at life, holding your shit down, and I—" Before Deku could assure him that he is absolutely none of those things, Katsuki said, "It felt weird or something. Treatin' you like you were some random fuck when I think you're—cool."

Deku blinked.

"Cool," he repeated, unsure where this was going. "You think I'm cool."

"Yeah."

"I'm not cool. I'm a complete fucking dork."

"Yeah, I mean you're that too." Katsuki's smile was slow to start but so familiar, all perfect teeth and a cocky crookedness to his mouth. "You're weird as hell and super nerdy about food, but you give no fucks. Not about me or what people think about you. You'll fuckin' yell at me in the fish market like I couldn't get you fired if I wanted. You ignore stupid haters in your vlog comments but tag on the people who get ignorant and belligerent. My parents love you, which is fuckin' wild, considering half the time they barely like me."

Deku vaguely wonders if he is having a latent acid attack from his early years of partying and this is all some wild hallucination. There are very few explanations for what is going on and none of them seem feasible.

"So." Deku licks his lips and nearly startles when Katsuki's gaze snaps right to his mouth, lingering. This was the guy who turned down his blowjob? "You turned me down because. . ."

"I just told you." Katsuki looked pissed now. "I don't wanna just fuck you, Deku. Though, holy shit, you come on strong. I didn't see that shit coming in a million years and I think I'm still recovering."

Deku grinned and took a step closer, unintentional but so intent on getting closer now that whatever tension existing between them began to melt.

"Yeah?"

The words felt like a repeat of their scene in the club, but where there was heavy, unspoken hunger, now Deku felt almost light. Giddy with Katsuki's admission. The air cleared between them like a dream come true.

"Yeah," Katsuki breathed out, easing into Deku's space. He huffed a soft laugh, his warm gaze drifting over Deku's face. "Fuck," he said softly, and Deku's stomach dipped. "Uh. I'm not—used to this. You're—a lot, I guess."

Deku grinned. Took a chance on this guy once again and brought his hands up to that solid chest, sweeping his hands out to ease off the heavy winter jacket. They both let it fall to the kitchen tile.

"Thought you were some big sexy hot shot.," Deku said, licking at his bottom lip as he eyed Katsuki's flushed face.

"Usually." Katsuki swallowed and gripped Deku's waist, so sturdy and assured even as his words came out fumbled and new. "Shit, you're something else. You get that, right? You're not like anybody else. Suddenly felt wrong as fuck treatin' you like you were."

Deku couldn't yet accept the meaning behind a statement like that. Too much, too soon, too scary, too new. But he melted with the effort that came from them.

"Katsuki. . ." Deku cocked his head and smiled. "You're kind of weird."

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, but to Deku's delight, only humor reflected back.

"Don't tell anyone."

"Hmmm." Taking another chance, because apparently this man just brought out all kinds of brave in Deku, he lofted his arms over Katsuki's shoulders and bumped their noses together, close, closer. "How will you silence me? I've got a big mouth. Talk way too much."

"Yeah, I noticed. Got some thoughts though."

Deku felt Katsuki untying the laces of his apron and smiled slowly, leaning in to speak just a breath from Katsuki's lips.

"Only thoughts? I prefer a man of action."

Katsuki's laugh rumbled low between them; Deku could feel it more than hear it.

"You're a little shit, aren't you?"

"Maybe." Closer. A playful peck of a kiss at the corner of Katsuki's curved lips. "Don't tell anyone."

"Nah." This time it was all Katsuki leaning in, pressing his mouth to Deku's and lingering, no frantic, fervid hands and mouths to be found in the quiet kitchen. Yet. "Think I want you all to myself."

Deku didn't know how far that kind of desire would take them, or how long it could last, but he found that he wanted to explore it. Wanted to taste what hope could be.

"We're not fucking around the food," Deku mumbled against Katsuki's mouth, already grabbing Katsuki by the collar of his shirt. "Bedroom. Now."

Katsuki swiped at him in return, yanking Deku's apron off and grinning, all original boyish charm that sent Deku's heart racing.

"God, you're bossy."

Deku threw a smile over his shoulder as he started down the corridor, delighted to find Katsuki at his heels, his eyes hot, his grin hungry and pleased.

"You're complaining that I want you to fuck me in your bed?"

"Not in the slightest. Been thinkin' about it since the day we met."

Deku opened the door to Katsuki's bedroom, but turned in the frame to boggle at the man already stripping from his shirt and dropping it to the floor.

"What, really?"

Katsuki flashed a look that Deku couldn't decipher, but the heat from it had Deku's knees wobbling just a little, his bravado melting with the way Katsuki walked him back into the room without actually touching. The silence swarmed around them, a buzzing in the blood that couldn't be heard in the bedroom as they undressed themselves in tandem, eyes on each other's emerging bodies.

Deku wasn't carved like Katsuki, his stripped shirt and pants revealing the soft span of his stomach across the taut, packed muscle beneath, his arms and legs the same, sturdy but smoothed over by his love for all things food. He wasn't self-conscious, not with the way Katsuki's gaze ate him up with each bared inch of skin. But Katsuki was a god in comparison, cut from fucking gold. Deku's mouth had never watered simply looking at a man, but his did for this one.

Dressed down to his boxers, Deku burst out a bright, surprised laugh when Katsuki simply put hands on his waist and heaved him onto the bed like he weighed all of nothing. Grinning and oddly relaxed despite the obvious bulge in his underwear, Deku reclined against his hands, his knees comfortably bent and loosely hanging open, inviting.

"Nice room," Deku said, giving it a cursory glance. Surprisingly, the place looked a lot like a normal boy's room and not some rich twenty-something's dream. Mismatched sheets and clean white walls, black and white photographs of places rather than people, a black desk with three computer screens and a rainbow keyboard. A scattered set of weights and a small bench in the corner. The only real show of wealth was the floor to ceiling windows encapsulating the midday rush so many stories down below.

In a way, the room looked like Mitsuki Bakugou never got her designer hands on it, and the realization that this was Katsuki's boyhood haven from the pristine apartment had Deku relaxing even more than before.

The feeling was strange. He was never really relaxed around the guys who fucked him. He was usually putting on a show, holding his own, enjoying the moment without letting himself get too close. He knew himself well enough to know he'd get hurt if he ever attached to someone in earnest.

"Hey." Katsuki crawled up the bed, kneeling between Deku's spread thighs, his hot eyes burning with intensity, his mouth stern but supple and pink from previous kisses. They looked at each other for a moment and Deku experienced a tilting sort of vertigo in simply looking this man in the eye. "You good with this? You're not gonna go all porn star on me again, are you?"

Deku exhaled a laugh through his nose and smiled.

"Sorry. That comes with the package."

"Nah." Katsuki's hands seared at Deku's ankles, traveling slowly up and over his bent knees and down his thighs, his fingers easing the boxer material up to bunch in the crease of Deku's pelvis. He tilted his head, lips brushing Deku's chin, along his jaw, a surprisingly gentle touch for someone who had killer smiles and a cocky swagger. "Not like that. I mean, you wanna be here, yeah? Not just to fuck."

Not just to fuck.

Deku swallowed hard and raised his chin, presenting his throat for Katsuki's shockingly soft, curious mouth. The surreal sense of vertigo took his breath away, his stomach swooping as Katsuki wedged himself closer between Deku's legs, encouraging one over the bend of his elbow as he leaned in to nip and lick at his ear.

I don't wanna just fuck you, Deku.

"Not just to fuck," Deku whispered, his skull swimming, his limbs light as Katsuki's hands stroked and incensed his skin, his tongue both soothing the growing burn and stoking it. He sighed when Katsuki grunted his agreement and urged forward until Deku fell back into the big, soft bed that smelled of the man he was only just beginning to know.

His eyes cracked open, dazed and glassy, and Katsuki was right there, watching. A sharp grin cut across that stunning face, dazzling.

"That aside," Katsuki said, one of his hands drifting up Deku's sensitive inner thigh to sneak inside the leg of his boxers, fingertips whispering dry and warm behind Deku's balls. "I'm gonna rail you until you forget how to run that pretty mouth and then we're gonna do it again. Now."

Deku beamed. Couldn't help it.

"God, you're bossy."

"You have no fuckin' idea."

The first time probably wasn't going to be their best, but it was so fucking starved that Deku could already barely fathom their sex being any better than this. Katsuki was strong. Took Deku by the wrists and held them high with one hand, hard and unrelenting. Sunk sharp round marks into the soft, milky skin of Deku's inner arm, sucking hard until they bruised, shocking sparks straight to Deku's aching cock. Licked at Deku's ribs and paid attention to his nipples with teeth and tongue and pursed lips until the nubs were swollen and pulsing pleasure-pain waves through his pulsing blood. 

Everything was explorative and new, hungry and hasty, then syrupy slow each time Katsuki found a new place he wanted to savor and taste. More than once, Deku tried to buck Katsuki off or roll them; even tried to sneak in a knee to Katsuki's gut to gain some kind of leverage to flip their positions and run riot on this unrelentingly sexy asshole.

But Katsuki was so fucking strong, and Deku's heart only raced each time he was effectively pinned and put in his place. Dizzy with it, Deku could only breathe through it and flex his hips forward, reveling in the promising press of one big, hard cock against his own. The friction of their underwear seemed to piss off Katsuki as much as it did Deku by now, because Katsuki quickly rid them of both, his hands rushing over Deku's thighs, one moving to cup Deku's balls, the other the palm over the raw, leaking head of Deku's cock.

The sound Deku made was not one he'd ever heard from himself. This wasn't even—this wasn't even anything! Just touch, taste, scent, sound; no juicy dick splitting him down the center, raw and wet. No brutal fucking or vicious nail marks or harsh, heedless claiming. This was simply Deku lying back for possibly the first time since he was a nervous virgin, absorbing the pure enjoyment Katsuki seemed to be getting out of being with him in his bed in the middle of the day.

Deku's eyes burned and he didn't know why. Not really. He inhaled sharply and whined as Katsuki worked Deku's cock between them, an idle pumping, not going anywhere, just squeezing and feeling and stroking, learning to shape of him.

No one had ever touched Deku like this. He didn't know what to fucking do.

"Hold your knees," Katsuki murmured, sounding distracted and distant, mostly because he was leaning back to kneel once more between Deku's legs, his attention fixed on Deku's ass as it was revealed to him with Deku's hands hooking behind his knees, presenting himself open wide. "Fuck," Katsuki bit off, not touching, just looking. Hands entirely to himself. Watching, appreciating. Licking his lips. "You're so goddamn pretty."

"That directed to my ass or is the rest of me included," Deku managed quietly, his voice too tender for what he was intending. He was hoping to lighten the dark, famished feeling descending upon them like a sweaty, delirious fever.

Instead, Katsuki's gaze fired back to Deku's, the searing heat of his irises swallowed in black.

"Gonna eat you out," Katsuki said, and holy shit, his voice had dropped, gone to ground, gravel and earth. "Gonna taste you. S'okay if you come. If you need to, do it. I won't be done with you anyway."

Deku was about to tell him that he'd absolutely never come from having his salad tossed, when Katsuki promptly looked down, spread Deku's ass cheeks, and spit on his asshole. Deku gaped. Katsuki spit again and thumbed over Deku's hole, lightly dipping the pad of his finger against the tight muscle.

Deku moaned long and low, his preconceptions abandoned as he was suddenly unsure if he wouldn't come simply from Bakugou Katsuki's very existence.

He was still reeling as Katsuki shoved a pillow beneath the small of Deku's back and got down on his level to lick a thick, hot stripe right over Deku's hole. A shock surged through Deku's body and he cried out, his thighs instinctively clamping together against the stimulation, but Katsuki's hands were there, his grip sinking into the meat of Deku's thighs, shoving him open and holding them in place as Deku's fingertips began to slip in the sweat building at the back of his knees. Katsuki licked again, the wet flat of his tongue painting slick and humid over Deku's tingling, twitching ass and up over the sensitive bundle of nerves behind his balls.

Before Deku could stutter in a sharp, shocked breath, Katsuki had done it again and again, lapping at him like an animal, a low sound building at the back of his throat as he seemed to revel in the taste of him, right up tonguing over Deku's tightening balls and up his leaking cock. Katsuki tasted the steady drip, his lips tight around the crown of Deku's cock, and Deku only briefly lifted his head to watched Katsuki suck on the raw, red tip with eyes shut before Deku had to drop back to the pillow and moan, his hips hiking up toward Katsuki's unrelenting mouth.

But Katsuki wasn't having it. He only licked once more at Deku's cock, his tongue following the pulsing vein, before he released his grip from Deku's thighs and returned to holding his ass open, this time giving no pause before he licked inside, his tongue pointed and firm as he speared it past Deku's wet, clenching ring of muscle.

Deku yelled out something indistinguishable, his nails digging into the tender flesh behind his knees, a sting that only sparked down his thighs to bundle tightly in his balls. Katsuki seemed to groan in reply and knead at Deku's asscheeks, his grip brutal, then gentling, then tighter again, the vicious massage serving to stretch and bunch his hole as Katsuki licked into him, over him, sucked and lightly nipped at the sensitized, sloppy wet ache of his abused ass.

No one had ever touched Deku like this. He was shaking; vibrating out of his body, sweating and whining and writhing as Katsuki fucked him full of tongue, his chin dripping in spit that smeared over Deku's skin, the mounting coil of heat bunching tight in his gut and ribboning around his throbbing cock.

"Kat—ah!" Deku's tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth. Pressure built in his gut, tightening, clenching, wet. His toes had already begun to curl, the radiating swell of incoming pleasure already too close to crashing over him. "Kat— Kacchan, I—I, fuck, I'm gonna—"

Katsuki hummed, the tremor from his lips and tongue traveling straight up Deku's stimulated center. Without warning, a long finger pushed and eased and smoothed right into him, the way more than loosened with Katsuki's tongue. Deku came on one finger like this was his first time, the shock surging through him in tandem with the sudden power of his orgasm, Katsuki's finger working him over and through it, the tip just barely brushing somewhere deep and hot and overwhelming.

Before Deku could even come down from the wild ride that was this wholly unlikely orgasm, Katsuki was rising up to kneel once more, his hands encouraging Deku to release his own knees and flop out. Panting and fuzzy around the edges,

Deku numbly watched as Katsuki looked around and used his own discarded boxers to wipe his wet mouth and chin before his attention returned to Deku's body, his eyes particularly fixed on the streaks of cum cooling across Deku's belly.

When he leaned in and licked at the streaks, Deku didn't even have it in him to be surprised. He just moaned as another helpless wash of arousal and adoration surged over him, sending him further spinning. This guy was the first person to ever match him in bed and they'd barely even begun.

"That's never happened to me before," Deku managed eventually, breathless as Katsuki leaned his entire burning, muscled body over Deku's to rummage through the bedside drawer. His hefty cock briefly laid heavy and flat on Deku's stomach before he pulled away with the goods.

"Um." Deku blinked at the massive bottle of lube Katsuki so casually wielded. He sputtered a laugh even as his cheeks heated at the sight of Katsuki slicking his fingers up good. "Did your mom buy you that from Costco or something?"

"Fuck you," Katsuki replied. His grin was so loose and pleased that Deku's heart skipped at how easy their rapport was while midway through a fuck. "Been thinkin' about you a lot. Got good use out of it."

The words went straight to Deku's dick and suddenly he could feel it twitching and filling with renewed interest. This guy wanted him; didn't just want him naked, like they were now, all sprawled out with the blue winter daylight pooling across the bed, but outside of this room. In the kitchen. At the market. Outside of this apartment, possibly in daylight.

The foreign concept was enough to have Deku launching across the bed and toppling Katsuki back, a curse muffled by Deku's bruising mouth and searching tongue.

Deku had been patient enough. Had let Katsuki love on him like he'd never before experienced. Which was great and all, but—

But Deku was not a patient man and he'd had enough. Bakugou Katsuki was about to learn just how Deku's relentless drive had served him in this world.

To Deku's luck, Katsuki didn't seem to know what the fuck to do with an aggressive bottom crawling over him with hungry smile and thighs like steel. Bakugou tried once or twice to buck Deku off, but Deku was made of stronger, sturdier stuff than most saw of him, and he found he preferred it that way in the long run. It led to the upper hand in so many fun situations.

Already worked open and licked out, the slide down Katsuki's cock was easier than Deku had imagined, considering the hefty size of this guy. No wonder he walked around like he owned the place, with a dick like this.

"The hell're you—holy fuck—" Katsuki choked off, a high blush painting up his smooth chest and throat, his mouth pink and cheeks pinker as he dug nails into Deku's thighs. "Shit, you take it so good don't you. I—what're you smiling about!"

Panting from the effort to keep himself steady as he impaled himself down slow, Deku splayed his hands on Katsuki's chest and grinned wider, breathing harder.

"Just thinking how it all makes sense." Deku tested an unhurried roll of hips, barely sliding off Katsuki's cock, but enough to send them both moaning and losing themselves in the moments; Deku working himself slow, then faster, sweat beading at his brow and lower back, behind his knees. "Your shitty personality and your big dick," Deku managed so many minutes later.

"Fuck," was Katsuki's senseless reply as bent his knees and began to fuck up into Deku without warning. The head of his cock thrust just right, knocked the air right out of Deku's lungs, sent him toppling forward, sweat-slick palms slipping on Katsuki's heaving chest. Their eyes met and Deku whispered, fuck, in return, and nothing lasted long after that.

Not for the first time, Deku allowed himself to let go around this stubborn asshole of a man. He might have been on top, but all he could do was hold on for the ride as Katsuki fucked him up and over, one gym-calloused hand rough and perfect on Deku's dick as he drove him fast and hard toward the roaring red and past into blissful white.

By the time the clouds began to clear, Deku clued into the feel of hands idly groping and gripping down the length of his waist, to his ass, and back up. Deku grunted, his face comfortably buried in the sweaty divot between Katsuki's pecs.

"Wha'ya'doin'," he managed, completely drained.

"S'nice," Katsuki said in quiet reply. Distantly, Deku recognized Katsuki was specifically squeezing the fat and meat lingering around his hips, sneaking on from years working with food.

"We can't all be ripped," Deku muttered as he squinted open one eye and found himself gazing out the winter window to the frozen landscape outside. He was so warm and coddled; couldn't imagine ever being cold again.

"Like you like this." Katsuki smacked Deku's ass once and barked a laugh at Deku's alarmed yelp. "Solid."

Deku couldn't help but laugh. That earnest, boyish sweetness of Bakugou Katsuki had yet to cease surprising him when it popped up. No wonder Katsuki wanted that side of him kept a secret when he walked around like he owned the biggest dick on earth and an even bigger brain.

What was Deku going to do with him?

"Oh my god!" Deku bolted up, straddling Katsuki's stomach. "My food!"

"Oh, come on!" Katsuki was already reaching out, trying to catch Deku as he lofted off the bed and whirled around in search of his close. "The food can wait!"

"Not when it's my job!" Deku gave up on his boxers and found Katsuki's, the ones he's used to wipe his mouth, and used them to wipe his own thighs and ass down. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Hey!" Katsuki was sitting up, outright pouting, his hair in wild disarray, an angry bite on his shoulder that Deku had no memory of delivering. "What about me?"

Naked, Deku paused and dropped the disgusting boxers. Walked over and took Katsuki's frowning face in both hands and pressed a warm, solid kiss on those grimacing lips until they softened and gave out. When Deku pulled back, Katsuki wasn't frowning, but he looked. . .unsure.

Deku suddenly remembered that this wasn't Katsuki's comfort zone either.

"Bakugou Katsuki," Deku said, his mouth curving around the words. "I work here. You live here. I don't think either of us will be leaving each other behind any time soon. Agreed?"

Katsuki narrowed his eyes.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Deku laughed and smacked a final kiss on Katsuki's forehead before pulling away in search of his clothes.

"Your kitchen. Now find my pants."