Chapter Text
“I saw your interview on TV last week, Shouto.”
Shouto looks up at his mother from his seat at the side of her hospital bed and slurps a bit of his plain milk tea through its straw – 50% sweetness, 50% ice, just as he likes it. He swallows, glad that it quells the dryness growing at the back of his throat stemming from the topic of their conversation turning to this, and isn’t sure why the mention puts him on edge in the first place. Perhaps it’s because watching the interview he shared with Bakugou following their nighttime debut with their newly acquired Provisional Hero Licenses in hand would be his mother’s first time seeing him as a hero. It was her first glimpse at seeing his dream come to fruition. It was his first step in achieving his goal of saving her, and out of all the people across the city, even the whole country, who may have caught the interview’s broadcast, his mother’s opinion of his first step into officially becoming a hero is the only one that matters. Shouto sucks in a short breath, squeezes his hands around his cup of milk tea, takes in the calming, soothing cold biting at his hands through its plastic, and waits for her to continue.
“I’m so proud of you,” she murmurs, smiling more gently, more warmly than the sunlight streaming through the window blinds onto Shouto’s relieved face, and he lets out the breath he was holding. It’s amazing the effect that the simplest of words can have, merely depending on who says them. “You’ve grown up so much, and your first school year isn’t even over yet,” Shouto’s mother continues with a melancholic nostalgia in her eyes that makes Shouto want to reach out and rest his hand on hers, but he doesn’t. Since he first came to see her at the hospital, he’s never dared to touch her yet. For some reason, that feels like a boundary they still can’t cross. “But it was such a joy to watch you answering their questions. Talking about your dreams again like the starry-eyed little boy I used to hold in my arms. I’m so happy that the nurse let me watch it. I haven’t been so happy since the first time you came to visit me here.”
“That makes me happy, too,” Shouto says with a faint smile tugging at his own lips. “Kind of embarrassing that you watched it all. But, yeah. I’m happy.”
“So… when can I meet him?” his mother asks, and Shouto’s smile turns to confusion which she quickly notices. “Your friend,” she clarifies, and in less than a second Shouto remembers all too well the single, innocent sentence he had declared to the camera without a second thought that made him the target of Bakugou’s mystifying anger for the rest of that night. Yes, we are friends. Shouto has no idea why four little words could have prompted such a violent reaction from Bakugou, but then again, that’s just how Bakugou is – prickly, heated, volatile. Throughout attending the entirety of their remedial courses together, Shouto had grown accustomed to Bakugou’s strange company. Deflecting Bakugou’s brash insults became as natural as taking his next breath. He enjoyed the uncharacteristically peaceful train rides home together, only granted to him because by the evening Bakugou was finally too tired to instigate any more fights. He had grown so comfortable being around Bakugou that now that their courses are over, lying around alone during his free time catching up on manga he’s borrowed from Sero makes him feel uneasy. It makes him miss their careful schedule, makes him miss the sound of Bakugou nearly banging his bedroom door straight off its hinges to wake him up on the chance he slept in, makes him miss the amusing sight of Bakugou taking it as a personal attack every time an animal would curiously approach them during their walk home to the dorms.
So, yes. Shouto considers them friends, and he doesn’t care that the entire country knows. The fact that he will continue to consider Bakugou his friend despite Bakugou’s protests, however, does not make his mother’s suggestion a good idea. In fact, it is a terrible idea, but she has no clue since all she knows of Bakugou from their interview was his face popping in and out of view. Shouto hasn’t even brought Midoriya to meet his mother, yet – Midoriya, who is polite and sociable and most importantly knows what an indoor voice is. How is he supposed to bring Bakugou?
“Shouto?” his mother calls out, growing worried in the silence, and the sound draws his ruminating stare up from the ice melting in his cup. “…May I meet your friend?”
Shouto wants to say no, but the word won’t come out. The thought of Bakugou making a ruckus in the psychiatric ward of a hospital is all too terrifyingly easy to imagine. Bakugou, the one that Shouto can hear sometimes despite living on the floor above him, screaming in the bathroom while brushing his teeth. Bakugou, the one who blew up the drum set Aizawa rented for them as his own self purported grand finale to their class’s concert at the cultural festival and had no remorse despite having to pay for it himself because they had to go out with a real fucking bang. If their class receives yearbooks at the end of the school year, Bakugou would surely be the one voted worst candidate to visit a psychiatric ward. The reason why Shouto knows all of this and is qualified to judge him is because he’s Bakugou’s friend. It would be a disaster if he stopped by, and as the one who invited Bakugou to come along, Shouto surely wouldn’t be allowed to visit his mother ever again.
Still, as Shouto stares into his mother’s hopeful eyes, he just can’t say no to her. She’s never asked anything from him before, only supported him in reaching his dreams, all the way to her breaking point. Who is he to deny her only request? And besides.
He should put faith in his friend.
“Okay,” Shouto concedes, and even though it’s still a mystery how he’s going to convince Bakugou Katsuki to come meet his mother at the hospital, let alone how Shouto is going to keep him in line, it’s enough to see how one, single word has the power to light up his mother’s face.
---
Shouto has a surprisingly hard time finding the right moment to ask Bakugou to come with him to meet his mother next weekend.
Sending a text is too impersonal, and Bakugou would have an easier time saying no when not presented with the invitation face to face. Knocking on the door to Bakugou’s dorm room while he’s inside and unsuspecting is a no go because Bakugou will surely see the act of encroaching on his personal space as insinuating a confrontation and react with hostility. Though Bakugou tends to eat alone, meal time won’t work either, since Bakugou bares his fangs like a wild dog when interrupted in the middle of enjoying his food. The week slowly passes with Shouto unable to find any appropriate time to catch Bakugou alone until the night of Class 1-A’s Christmas party, after he’s finished helping Midoriya with the dishes and finally convinced his teary friend to stop thanking him for providing him with a new work study opportunity. Shouto manages to slink away from the kitchen after one final sob of gratitude from Midoriya to find Kaminari and Ashido still trying to trap Bakugou into keeping his personalized Santa hat and chasing him through the common area despite his screams of I don’t want it!
“Party’s over, you two,” Shouto states, asserting his presence amidst their commotion, and Kaminari and Ashido pause in the act of herding Bakugou into a corner like a caged and very soon to be enraged bull to grin at him.
“Todoroki!” Kaminari exclaims, seemingly distracted in record time from his prior engagement, and Shouto acknowledges the greeting with a silent nod. “Yeah, it’s too bad. Wish the party could’ve lasted forever! I had a really awesome time.”
“I didn’t!” Bakugou yells, already crouched in a battle stance with his palms bared and looking ready to plow straight through all of them to get out of here. “Now fuck off and let me get back to my room already!”
“Not until you take your hat,” Ashido insists with a mischievous hum, but before she can slap it onto Bakugou’s head for the fifth time tonight, Shouto stops her by holding out his own hand and motioning for her to give the hat to him.
“I’ll handle it,” he states, garnering all three of their confused stares, watching him in silence like he spoke another language. Shouto doesn’t know what was so perplexing about the words. Perhaps they just didn’t hear him. “I’ll handle it,” he repeats, a bit louder, and a few seconds later Ashido’s eyes flicker with a startling level of enlightenment before she beams at him, dropping Bakugou’s Santa hat into his open palm.
“Sure thing,” she agrees, making to leave, and when Kaminari fails to follow right after, she punches his arm to jolt him into the motion.
“…When I said fuck off, I meant you, too, half ‘n half,” Bakugou growls once they’re alone, failing to intimidate Shouto into leaving with a flash of his gritted teeth. “Get outta my way!”
“There’s something I wanna ask you first,” Shouto barely has time to say before Bakugou is already glaring daggers at him.
“If you’re gonna ask me to thank you for the help earlier, you’re dumber than I thought,” Bakugou scoffs, referring to Shouto’s invitation to join him for work study under his father. Whereas Midoriya eagerly accepted without a second thought, Bakugou seemed ready to brush him off and stomp away. Of course he did. Bakugou’s pride, both immense and fragile, was no surprise to anyone, but to Shouto’s surprise and excitement, he accepted. Like hell I’d let you two idiots try to get ahead without me, was his roundabout way of doing so, but it was still accepting. Shouto wasn’t looking for any thanks, though. He never even considered it, and when he shakes his head at Bakugou’s accusation, it shocks the scowl off of Bakugou’s face for the second time tonight.
“Something else,” Shouto clarifies, and Bakugou’s typical, disgruntled expression returns like clockwork at the fact that he was wrong. There’s no easy way for Shouto to ask. He’s never been one to overcomplicate matters in the first place. A direct approach is best, especially since Bakugou will probably react negatively no matter what kind of method Shouto employs, like he does to pretty much everything. “Are you free on Sunday to come to the hospital with me to meet my mother?” Shouto asks, plain and simple, and he can see Bakugou struggling to process the request through the slew of emotions contorting his face, eventually settling from a mixed range of confusion into an offended snarl.
“Huh?!” Bakugou drawls out, shoving his hands into his pockets as he cranes his head towards Shouto’s chin first, and Shouto calmly stands his ground as Bakugou’s efforts to threaten him into backing away are completely wasted. It’s commendable, though, how his tactic is to appear like he’s towering over Shouto when he’s clearly shorter and always has been. He’s like a harmless, tiny dog. “Are you making fun of me, asshole?”
“No,” Shouto replies earnestly, and in the long stretch of silence that follows, Bakugou’s unsightly glower gently fades away into an exaggerated pout. Shouto isn’t sure what he’s thinking, but at least he hasn’t said no quite yet. In many ways, Bakugou is painfully predictable, especially when it comes to what can easily rile him up, but this isn’t one of those times. Shouto expected to be turned down right away, but rather than no, Bakugou opts for a different, singular word.
“…Why?” he asks without a hint of anything behind the word but genuine curiosity, and even seems to relax as he leans a shoulder back against the wall and slumps there in place, waiting patiently for an answer. It’s remarkable how quiet Bakugou can be, when he wants to be – when he lets some of his guard down. Shouto wonders how many people get to see his side of him. He doesn’t think some of his classmates would believe him if he said that Bakugou kept to his own thoughts more often than not during their walks home from class, as long as Shouto didn’t offend him. It must be tiring, being stuck alone with Kacchan all the time now, Midoriya would say with an apologetic smile, but Shouto actually misses it.
“My mother watched our interview,” Shouto explains, and the mention of the debacle quickly makes a ticked off glare return to Bakugou’s face. He’s clearly still upset that all of his screen time was cut when the piece was aired, but what did he expect to happen when all of his replies to their interviewer were laden with insults? Shouto is aware it’s just his manner of speaking, but whereas he has grown used to Bakugou being too much bark and no actual bite, it’s no surprise that it scares strangers off. “She wants to meet my friend–”
“I said we’re not friends!” Bakugou snaps right on cue, stubborn as ever, sounding like he hates the audacious accusation almost as much as the thought of being looked down on, and Shouto doesn’t understand why it makes him so upset. Neither Bakugou’s sentiments nor what his insistent declaration insinuates about their relationship make any sense, and Shouto frowns before seeking the clarification he’s aware he likely won’t be granted.
“If we’re not friends, then what are we?”
Bakugou stares at Shouto like he was just asked to explain the meaning of life, and Shouto stares straight back at him, watching Bakugou’s right eyebrow twitch, his jaw jutting forward hanging slightly agape, the frustrated wrinkles multiplying on his forehead. It almost looks like Bakugou is in physical pain as he struggles to come up with an answer to Shouto’s question, but it’s just as hard for Shouto to come to his own plausible conclusion.
They couldn’t possibly be enemies. Even when Bakugou was provoking him during the Sports Festival and openly seeking confrontation to prove himself, Shouto’s never hated him or thought of him as an enemy. Rivals, then? No, that isn’t right, either. Shouto couldn’t care less about proving that he’s better than Bakugou, not that they’ve had a chance to have a rematch on equal terms anyways, much to Bakugou’s ever exaggerated chagrin. Shouto prefers what’s been taking place as of late anyways – working together with Bakugou rather than being at odds with each other, relying on the silent trust built from their mutual respect that leaves him comfortable knowing that Bakugou, strangely enough, has his back in a fight.
Are they acquaintances? If they were, Shouto wouldn’t know details about Bakugou like how he goes to bed before nine o’clock PM without fail each weekday night; that Bakugou carries a jar of red chili flakes everywhere that he dumps on all of his food before eating it, especially bland convenience store onigiri picked up after class; that Bakugou’s hair is surprisingly soft despite its prickly appearance from the time it tickled at Shouto’s cheek during the train ride home after Bakugou passed out on his shoulder. If they were, Bakugou wouldn’t know that Shouto forgot to bring his portable phone charger more often than not during their long sessions away from U.A.’s campus and subsequently throw his own at Shouto during their lunch breaks. Bakugou wouldn’t start every Sunday conversation with what stupid cat picture did you change your phone background to this week? like it’s supposed to be an insult, and then fail to act like he doesn’t care when Shouto shows him. Bakugou wouldn’t have become the one to knowingly initiate side trips to Shouto’s favorite milk tea shop during their walks home because of how many times Shouto got distracted and wandered over there. Acquaintances don’t know little things like that about one another.
They are classmates, yes, but still, there’s a difference between how Shouto feels about Bakugou and how he does for the rest of his class. It’s even different than how he feels about his other friends, but he can’t describe it with words. Maybe Bakugou is right after all. Maybe the calm, fuzzy sensation in Shouto’s chest that’s been accompanying them to class for the past few months isn’t a connotation of friendship, because it doesn’t show itself when he hangs out with Midoriya and Iida. Maybe he and Bakugou aren’t friends, but even so, the question remains: what are they?
“What time?” Bakugou grumbles, and Shouto doesn’t answer, too lost in his own baffled thoughts to have heard or processed the words. It isn’t long until Bakugou gets fed up waiting for an answer and crackles his palm at Shouto’s face, and Shouto blinks at the faint puff of sparks and smoke that quickly get his attention.
“Sorry,” Shouto apologizes, and Bakugou diverts his scowl to the side while shoving his hand back into his pocket. “What’d you say?”
“I said what time?” Bakugou repeats, louder, plain and clear yet still leaving Shouto wondering if he heard correctly. It’s not an answer to his latter question, but at least it’s a roundabout acceptance to his request. Asking for anything more from Bakugou will be pushing it since this is already an unexpected miracle as is, but first Shouto has to confirm.
“…You’ll come?” he asks, and the disbelief in his voice makes Bakugou scoff.
“I’m not ‘bout to owe you anything,” he huffs, and it takes a moment for Shouto to realize he’s talking about the work study invitation because he never meant for it to be a favor in the first place. He just wanted to help out his friends after hearing they had nowhere to go this term, not to mention that working together in their company would be more enjoyable than being stuck alone with his father again. The two of them would surely learn a lot from Endeavor, too, and well… Shouto couldn’t say he’s not curious to see the clash of personalities between Bakugou and his father. “We’re even now,” Bakugou hisses, bringing Shouto back to reality from his amusing daydream of Bakugou casually insulting his father, the current number one hero, without an ounce of remorse, “so tell me what time already before I change my mind.”
Shouto brings a hand to his chin in thought. “I usually head over after lunch. But if there’s a different time that works for you, then–”
“Whatever,” Bakugou interrupts, ending their conversation with a bump of his shoulder into Shouto’s as he brushes past. The brusque contact lingers even as Shouto glances back to watch Bakugou stomp off towards the elevator, but his excitement that Bakugou actually, sort of said yes slowly fades away and ceases overriding his concern. Shouto never did receive an answer to his other question, but the hardest part is over now and also reminded him that sometimes Bakugou can be unpredictable in a good way.
How much of a disaster could Sunday be?
---
Shouto receives an answer to that question when it’s time for lunch on Sunday, during which Bakugou is completely absent from the dining hall, kitchen, and the rest of the common area. He grabs a serving of the curry Satou has prepared for everyone and joins Midoriya and Iida at a nearby table, nodding his head once in greeting before taking a seat and scanning the premises rather than participating in their conversation. Where could Bakugou be? Did he forget about their plans for today? No, he couldn’t have. Bakugou may be loud and impolite and stubborn, but he is neither forgetful nor a liar. He’s the type who would stake his pride on never going back on his word, because when Bakugou Katsuki says he will do something, he will do it, no matter what. Then where is he? It’s not like him to miss lunch in general, either, even if he does always eat it at his own lone table that he’s claimed the entirety of for himself. The closer that Shouto comes to finishing his plate of curry with no sign of Bakugou, the more concerned he grows, and after he eats his final carrot slice without hearing a single, feral scream disrupt his meal, Shouto cleans up after himself before heading up to Bakugou’s room.
Rather than Bakugou, Shouto happens to run into Kirishima first on the way out of his own room – that’s right, Shouto didn’t see him at lunch, either. Maybe the two of them were busy doing something until now. “Oh, Todoroki!” Kirishima exclaims with one hand clenched to his gurgling stomach, looking both excited to see his friend and about to crumple over in hunger. “What’s up?”
“Is Bakugou…?” Shouto wonders vaguely, voice trailing off as his eyes drift to Bakugou’s bedroom door which he’s never entered before.
“Bakugou? I haven’t heard him since this morning,” Kirishima begins, and Shouto frowns. “I thought I’d try to start on that huge stack of homework we got for winter vacation today and everything was so… peaceful without hearing him yelling from the next room over that I got so into it and almost forgot about lunch! And I only got one problem done, too, ‘cause I don’t understand anything!”
To hear that Bakugou hasn’t been around at all isn’t what Shouto expected. If anything, it makes him more worried about where Bakugou could be, but it looks like their conversation is starting to distract Kirishima from what’s important again. “The curry that Satou made is almost gone,” Shouto points out, “so you should–”
“Crap!” Kirishima closes his bedroom door behind himself with a bang that’s loud enough to definitely have gotten Bakugou’s attention if he were in his own room before he runs off with a thanks, see you later, man! Shouto lingers there in the hallway, staring at Bakugou’s door in thought. It wouldn’t hurt to confirm, a nagging voice at the back of his head echoes as the seconds tick by, and after Shouto gives it a knock to which he receives no reply, he heads back to his own room to get ready with a strange feeling lingering in his chest, heavy and hollow all at the same time. He’s disappointed enough already, himself, but thinking of how disappointed his mother will be after he assured her he’d keep his promise to bring his friend… perhaps the next time he sees Bakugou, Shouto will finally give him that rematch he’s been so eager for.
On Shouto’s way to the front door after getting dressed and grabbing his bag, he’s so lost in his growing disdain that he nearly doesn’t hear Iida saying goodbye to him from the common room that he’s cleaning despite it already looking spotless. He pauses with his hand on the handle to glance back and offer a wave, not that Iida sees it since he’s quickly returned to waxing the windows, but before Shouto can open the door himself, it flings open on its own, or so he thought. He barely has time to step back to avoid being hit, and when he realizes it’s Bakugou standing on the other side of the door, hunched over out of breath with a bouquet of various white flowers in his hand, Shouto can’t help but to stare blankly at the unexpected scene. Bakugou? Carrying flowers? That are still in perfect condition after having been under his care? Shouto’s foul mood disappears as he puts the pieces together more swiftly than Bakugou can catch his breath, and when Bakugou looks up to find he has company, it looks like he wants to throw the flowers at Shouto’s interested stare to divert it from his flustered face.
“…What?!” Bakugou yells, and Shouto smiles, touched by his surprising gesture.
“Did you get lunch while you were out buying those, too?” he asks, closing the front door behind himself after he joins Bakugou outside.
“You think I had time to get food when I spent three hours running around the whole city looking for a damn flower shop?” Bakugou counters, stomping off without even giving Shouto a chance to lead the way. “I almost didn’t even make it back in time to meet up with you. Thought I was gonna have to find my way there myself to get rid of these dumb flowers.”
“I know a place we can stop by on the way so you can get something quick to eat,” Shouto offers, effortlessly catching up in a few strides – he’s done this plenty of times before.
“You just want fucking boba,” Bakugou snaps, and Shouto doesn’t deny it. He just settles into Bakugou’s company, accompanied by the new scent of fresh flowers. On their way to Shouto’s favorite milk tea shop, he’s amused that Bakugou looks torn between hiding the bouquet behind his back in embarrassment that he would be seen in public with such a thing and clutching it to his chest with a protective growl whenever someone passes by them just a little too close. After they get there, Shouto buys a small drink for himself and some extra spicy popcorn chicken from a nearby street vendor for Bakugou, but he notices that Bakugou hardly touches it as they walk to the train station. Not only that, Bakugou hasn’t said a single word to him since they left. It’s not like him at all, and once they get settled on the train next to each other, Shouto sips at his tea as he glances over as discreetly as possible.
Bakugou looks… worried. Shouto hasn’t seen him look so unsure of himself since he was trying to escape from the villains at Kamino. The stifling silence and apprehension in his eyes don’t suit him at all, but if he’s this nervous about meeting Shouto’s mother, it just goes to show how seriously he’s taking it. Shouto regrets ever doubting Bakugou at all, especially since he’s the one who caused Bakugou to ruin his entire Sunday so far, and his remorseful sigh is enough to jolt his Bakugou out of his pensive concern. “Sorry,” Shouto murmurs, crackling his plastic cup with a press of his thumb. “It’s gonna be awkward, huh?”
“Ain’t that an understatement,” Bakugou snorts, slouching back in his seat. “Your mom today and your dad tomorrow. What kinda weird meet the parents bullshit is this?”
That’s right, their work study under Endeavor starts tomorrow, too. Shouto didn’t even plan for it to play out in succession like this, but now that Bakugou brings it up, it is a strange coincidence. “…Should I have invited Midoriya today, too, then?” Shouto wonders aloud, and Bakugou’s eyes finally snap to meet his with a glare.
“Hell no!” he exclaims, and Shouto doesn’t know what was so offensive about his suggestion. He would have thought Bakugou would appreciate having someone else around to pin the task of keeping up an awkward conversation on, even if it was Midoriya, but Bakugou just looks incredibly livid at the thought, even for Bakugou’s standards of angry. “That damn nerd can piss off,” he grumbles, and when he rests his shoulder up against Shouto’s like some sort of wordless challenge, daring him to react, Shouto doesn’t move away because the warmth feels nice. It reminds Shouto of a needy puppy seeking its owner’s attention, growing possessive around the threat of strangers, and that’s when he realizes. Bakugou’s so upset because he wants this to be something special between the two of them, but he would never admit it – just like how he would never admit that they are, and have been, friends.
“…My mother will like you,” Shouto reassures his friend, though it seems Bakugou’s thoughts had already long shifted from concern to anger after being distracted by the prospect of Midoriya interfering with their private time.
“Huh?” Bakugou grunts in confusion at the change in topic, and Shouto offers him a small smile.
“I like you, so I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” he explains simply, straight from the heart, and Bakugou chokes back a sputter, turning away quickly to hide his face from view.
“Shut up, stupid, you wanna die?” Bakugou spits right on cue before he starts stuffing his face with the popcorn chicken Shouto had bought for him, and Shouto returns to sipping at his milk tea, pleased that he’s restored the comfortable atmosphere between them.
After they arrive at the hospital, Shouto checks in with the receptionist as Bakugou makes a racket throwing away their trash in the background, perhaps getting it out of his system before they head upstairs. He quietly follows behind Shouto the whole way without complaint, and once they make it to the door to his mother’s room, Shouto gives it a gentle knock that’s met with her inviting them in. “Hello, Shouto,” she greets after he opens the door, her eyes lighting up even more when she sees that he’s accompanied by the company he promised. “You brought your friend,” she muses as Shouto walks inside with a smile, but Bakugou lingers there frozen in the doorway, flowers clenched so tightly in one hand that it’s a shock the stems haven’t snapped. Shouto’s never seen him looking so out of his element before, so unconfident and anxious. Maybe his encouragement didn’t work after all, but Shouto does the first thing that comes to mind. He grabs onto Bakugou’s other hand much to his sudden protest, tugging him inside before closing the door behind them and dragging Bakugou the rest of the way to his mother’s bed.
“Hi, mom. This is Bakugou,” Shouto barely has time to say before Bakugou has already yanked his hand free with a scowl to wipe it off on the front of his pants. It doesn’t seem like he has any plans to offer more of an introduction for himself, so Shouto continues, “He might look scary, but he’s actually very nice. And a good friend.”
Bakugou opens his mouth to snap back at the compliment but restrains himself, settling for a disgruntled pout while in the presence of Shouto’s mother. “Hello, Bakugou,” she begins, and Shouto watches his expression soften as he turns to her. Shouto never told any of his classmates other than Midoriya the details of his mother’s circumstances, but there’s a foreign, melancholic understanding in Bakugou’s eyes as he waits for her to finish speaking. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for looking after Shouto. I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble. I know he can be very stubborn.”
It’s Shouto’s turn to pout. He should have known his mother would do as all mothers do and say embarrassing things. He expects her innocent words to launch Bakugou into a vehement tirade about just how much trouble Shouto has given him, especially during the Sports Festival, but to Shouto’s surprise, he doesn’t know his friend as well as he had thought. Bakugou hesitates, chewing at his lower lip in thought as he quite deliberately avoids any chance of making eye contact with Shouto, before he finally speaks a few seconds later.
“I’m the one who gives him trouble,” Bakugou acknowledges just above a whisper, and Shouto wonders if he felt his heart skip a beat. Did Bakugou really just knowingly wound his own pride while completely aware that Shouto is in earshot? While it’s heartwarming, at the same time seeing Bakugou so humbled honestly makes Shouto a little uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the sight of Bakugou awkwardly holding the bouquet he brought out to his mother. “Uh… flowers,” he grunts, looking desperate for her to hurry up and take them already, which she soon does with a grateful tenderness in her eyes.
“Thank you, Bakugou. They’re beautiful,” she says, brushing her fingers gently over their delicate petals, and if Bakugou’s ears burned any brighter red they would start rivaling the shade of Shouto’s hair. “Shouto, could you please put them in a vase for me? Natsuo and Fuyumi also stopped by earlier with some fresh fruit if you two would like to help yourselves.”
“Sure,” Shouto replies, catching a closer glimpse of Bakugou’s flustered face as he accepts the bouquet from her, and while he walks over to the other side of the room to fill the vase up with water, he can’t push away the sight of Bakugou’s flushed cheeks lingering in his thoughts. He doesn’t mean to leave Bakugou there at his mother’s bedside to make conversation alone, but that’s what ends up happening as he carefully slips the flowers into the vase one by one. At least it sounds like the two of them are slowly growing more comfortable together.
“I watched the interview you two did on TV last week,” his mother murmurs wistfully, and Bakugou scoffs.
“That piece of crap? I was barely even in it.”
“Maybe so, but… I’m so proud you two have achieved such an accomplishment, already defeating villains together at such a young age. I’m sure your family is very proud of you, too. I hope the two of you continue to have such a good relationship in the future, and that you keep looking after Shouto, even if he can be a little too reckless sometimes when it comes to saving people. He just wants to be a great hero, as I’m sure you can understand.”
Shouto frowns as he inserts the final stem into the vase and displays it on a nearby table, wishing his mother would stop saying such embarrassing things, but Bakugou doesn’t laugh, or even immediately reply. It isn’t until after Shouto has grabbed a peach from the basket his siblings brought and filled the silence with the faint sound of its skin peeling free that Bakugou speaks up, just loud enough for him to make out the words though it’s clear they aren’t meant for him to hear.
“Todoroki will be a great hero,” Bakugou murmurs frankly, and Shouto almost drops his knife into the sink. “I can promise you that much.” Shouto quickly resumes peeling so as not to alert Bakugou to the fact that he overheard the praise and remains quite startled by the candid compliment that leaves his heart swelling in his chest. How ironic that now he’s the one standing here blushing, but at least neither of them can see his face right now.
“I believe so, too,” his mother agrees without hesitation. “You’ll both become amazing heroes together, along with the rest of your class. I’m glad you’ve found good friends in one another.”
“…Me, too,” Bakugou admits in a whisper, and Shouto knows it’s the closest he’ll ever come to hearing a direct confession that Bakugou reciprocates his feelings about their relationship. How strange, that Shouto’s mother is the one who managed to wrangle it out of him after only a few minutes of conversation.
After Shouto finishes cutting the peach up, he returns to the two of them with the slices laid out on a plate, just in time to catch the tail end of his mother telling Bakugou about the first time a thunderstorm struck when he was a child and he ran into her room to protect her from its loud booms despite being terrified. Bakugou is doing an admirable job holding back his laughter despite Shouto’s mother clearly finding it to be one of her most adorable memories, and Shouto clears his throat to indicate his arrival. “…Peach?” he asks dully, holding the plate out towards Bakugou, who frowns in horror when he glances down at Shouto’s shoddy knife work.
“You cut it with your teeth or what?” he grumbles, snatching a slice up before shoving it into his mouth, and Shouto narrows his eyes.
“Only the best for my friend,” he replies, which shuts Bakugou up, scowling as he gnashes his peach slice between his molars. Shouto turns to set the plate down onto his mother’s tray but freezes when he sees her face – more importantly, the smile lighting it up more brightly than he can ever recall – and when she reaches up to brush at the corner of her eye with a finger, his breath hitches in his throat. “Mom...? Are you…”
“I’m fine, dear,” she reassures him, and the sound of Bakugou’s aggressively chewing slows as the scene catches his attention and overrides his annoyance. “I’m just overjoyed that after everything that’s happened, you’ve still managed to find some of the happiness you deserve.”
His mother’s single sentence stirs more emotions inside of Shouto than he thought possible – of his past, present, and future which sometimes all seem to be tearing him in different directions – but before he can become too consumed by his thoughts, Bakugou discreetly kicks his shoe, bringing him back to right here, right now, standing together in his mother’s hospital room, basking in the warm glow on her proud face. She was right all along, from the very start – bringing Bakugou along to meet her was a good idea, not only for her sake of witnessing firsthand that she doesn’t need to worry about him anymore, but for his own sake, as well.
“Me, too,” Shouto concludes, reaching out to take a peach slice off of the plate, which he bites into with a satisfying crunch.
He wonders if he can convince Bakugou to come with him again sometime.