Work Text:
They have known each other a long time before they ever spoke.
Bakugou Katsuki knew Midoriya Izuku as a name whispered through rankings, as footage replayed during training briefings, as a quirk analysis scribbled into notebooks he would never admit reading, often more than he would like to. He knew him as All Might`s successor, his idol successor. As the polite, earnest hero-in-training who smiled too much but broke so easily, figuratively and literally speaking. The idiot who somehow always managed to achieve everything he set out to do.
Katsuki isn’t stupid; he sees the tireless way his opponent works towards his goals and dreams, he sees him training late into the night, even when everyone else in his class is asleep. He’d be lying if he said the thought of joining him never crossed his mind, maybe not alongside him… That would be a pain in the ass, in his own words. But just training just how much and as hard as he did.
Don’t get me wrong. He knows he’s talented. He’s been hearing that almost all his life since he finally got his quirk. He’s strong, he’s brave. But it never seems to be enough compared to him. Sometimes it makes him feel some kind of hatred toward his classmate. He can’t stand that feeling and since its directed at the green haired one, he thinks he directly can’t stand him.
Midoriya Izuku knew Bakugou Katsuki as an explosion with legs.
As power incarnate. As arrogance coupled with extraordinary skills. As a boy who fought and burned though every exercise as if it were a challenge sent to him personally by the universe.
He was really… Something else. He thinks.
Izuku has always been someone intense. Like when he talks with someone about his interests (mostly heroes, specially All might), but this kind of intensity he can perceive of the other was just different. Just seeing him go with all he has every time he’s asked to do something, gave him a sensation he could never quite explain.
Fire. Was the best word to explain it.
Fire that burned in his chest, in his eyes, every time he observed his actions. His behavior.
Well. They orbited the same spaces. UA hallways, training grounds, hero simulations, and yet, they never collided.
Until Uraraka Ochaco decided they should.
“I seriously can’t believe you two have never talked to each other!” she says one afternoon, looking between them like she was missing something obvious.
They exchange glances before turning their attention back to the girl they had in front.
Midoriya nearly dropped his notebook before talking. “O-Oh- i mean- we’ve been on the same building but-“
Bakugou crossed his arms in his chest with a scoff. “Never had a reason to.”
She rolls her eyes, unconvinced, and hums. “Well, that’s dumb.” Taking one step closer to them she points her fingers at their faces “You both are weirdly intense; I think you’ll get along.”
Bakugou snorted in place, passing his weight to one foot. Midoriya flushed.
Without caring about the reaction of either of the two presents, she dragged them together ―literally―, forcing an introduction neither of them knew how to refuse.
It’s not as if they have thought they would graduate without exchanging a single word; they simply never believed they would be forced to do so, much less under these conditions.
And it was even more surprising the fact that she spoke first.
“This Is Bakugou Katsuki.” She said, hand on his shoulder. “… And this is Midoriya Izuku” she added, smiling as if she had achieved world peace.
Although they had accidentally looked into each other’s eyes before, today was the first time they did so without quickly turning their heads away instantly when the other met their gaze.
Up close, the blond was able to notice the many freckles that decorated Midoriya’s face, along with some scratches he hadn’t been able to spot before, the result of his hard training, he thought.
Midoriya on the other hand was capable of notice his scars and the tension of his shoulders that seems like it never disappears. He briefly appreciated how powerful, alluring and yet intimidating was the red of his eyes. His presence was something else, like it filled the air like static.
“Nice to meet you, officially at least.” Midoriya said first, carefully.
Bakugou seems to hesitate for a second too long before he simply says “Tch. Yeah.”
That, in a perfect world for them, would have been enough.
But it seems like the universe —and Ochako— had other plans.
They started running into each other more often; of course, they were classmates. But the shared training sessions, the missions assigned too closely for mere coincidence, the study hall where they apparently happened to go at the same time almost every day…
“Yes, coincidence,” they both liked to think whenever they noticed the other nearby, whenever the other appeared in their peripheral vision and it was as if they were forced to turn around to make sure they weren’t being paranoid.
They talked in short bursts at first. Awkward. Polite. Even defensive.
Then —with the pass of time— longer.
Bakugou was able to see more clearly that Midoriya wasn’t fragile (even though he was often covered in cuts and scraped, more than the others). He was resilient in a quiet, stupidly stubborn way.
He analyzed everything, every tiny detail, things that people could easily overlook; in his eyes, they were right there. And his praise, when given, felt dangerously sincere.
Midoriya discovered that Bakugou wasn’t just anger —he was focused, passionate, brutally honest in a world of masks. That when he explained techniques and led exercises, he did so expecting Midoriya to keep up. Not only that but knowing he was capable.
Midoriya grew up believing he would never be able to pursue his dream, no matter how hard he tried. He knew he currently had the support of others —his classmates, his mother— but the feeling was different when it came from someone as strong as Bakugou was in Izuku’s eyes.
That way, something warm began to grow between them.
Something neither of them dared to name.
But there was a small problem, which ironically was the same one that bring them together in the first place.
Uraraka.
Bakugou saw the way Midoriya laughed with her, the harmonious and bright sound he never thought would mean anything more to him than an annoying noise. He saw the familiarity and ease with which they interacted; the naturality of their connection directly overshadowed what he thought they had been building these past few months.
The only thing left for him to think was that Midoriya’s heart already belonged to someone.
Someone who wasn’t him.
And of course, it made sense, didn’t it? Why else would Midoriya have so eagerly and readily accepted Uraraka's introduction and wanted them to become friends? Or at least that’s what he thought.
Bakugou knew he was a difficult person to deal with, difficult to manage. He knew he had such a bad temper that smart people wouldn’t normally want to get close to. And to him, Midoriya was one of the brightest people in school.
So Bakugou pulled back instead.
He teased harder. Snapped faster. He pretended that the way he felt his chest tighten was nothing more than irritation.
That he didn’t feel like ripping his heart out every time he felt it.
He was an expert.
Meanwhile, Midoriya noticed how Bakugou softened around Uraraka. It wasn’t a huge change; after all, Bakugou wasn’t exactly gentle, and he’d rarely been gently with him. But he liked to think it was something about them, a dynamic they shared during those nights they started training together, despite Bakugou’s rigid sleep schedule.
It was something he gradually began to feel was special, and when he saw them working together and noticed those subtle actions that Uraraka probably didn’t even notice, a feeling of unease began to creep in. It felt as if the multiple scars on his arms, from the numerous accident he’d suffered since starting school, were itching, burning.
He didn’t dislike them; he disliked himself for feeling this way.
Of course Bakugou would like her. He knows Uraraka himself.
She’s strong, she’s pretty, she’s kind.
She’s easy to like.
She’s not complicated.
So Midoriya swallowed his feelings. He doesn’t want to make things difficult between them.
Those night training sessions, study sessions, and missions together quickly dwindled. It was as if they had silently agreed to return to square one —Even though they knew it would be impossible.
And neither of them wanted to.
There were still a few moments between them that couldn’t be ignored. Fleeting, stolen moments became the only thing they believed they could treasure about each other now.
Sharing a water bottle after training, smiles that lasted only a few seconds too short. Patrols in silence even though they made sure to stay at least a meter apart.
Neither of them crossed the line.
Or that was until one night, exhaustion cracked them open.
They were practicing alone outside the dorms in silence. It’s been a while since the last time, but Bakugou couldn’t sleep, and when Midoriya saw him come out the door in his training clothes with a water bottle in hand, he didn’t need to ask anything and simply continued with what he was doing, this time, with company.
After a while, Bakugou sat on the ground, resting his hands behind his back on the grass, leaning back to look at the night sky.
Midoriya sat beside him, wanting to rest. Not just from training but… from this exhausting routine he carried on every day.
The one where he pretended not to die just to be near the blond, to tell him about the new things he’d learned, and for the other to sigh in amusement.
For a moment, he forgot about that and sat down next to him, their shoulders almost touching, separated by only a couple of cruel inches.
Bakugou noticed.
Neither of them moved away.
“… You ever get tired of pretending?” Bakugou asked suddenly, still looking up.
Midoriya’s breath caught for a second. “P-Pretending what?”
Bakugou laughed quietly. It wasn’t a genuine laugh; it only showed how tired he was of the situation and how lost he was about the answer. “That you don’t want things you shouldn’t.”
Midoriya stared at his hands before he replies, “All the time.” Sighing.
Silence spread between them like fog; calm, yet impossible to ignore.
They stood there for a couple of minutes, weighing up what to say, until the taller one clenched his fist and, in a tighter voice than he would have liked, spoke. “You should tell her.”
Finally, Midoriya looks up to him. Confusion on his face. “What?”
“Uraraka,” He answered, jaw tight and his gaze fixed on the ground this time. “if you like her.”
Midoriya stared at him with wide eyes, taken aback, and was only able to utter “I don’t.”
Bakugou froze. A glimmer of hope flickered across his face for a second. He had to confirm what he just heard, he had to confirm that it wasn’t his brain playing tricks on him, that he wasn’t just imagining things. “... You don’t?”
Midoriya swallowed “I thought you did.”
Bakugou turned his full body toward him, as if he’s been personally offended. “I don’t.”
Their eyes locked, and it was just like that first time.
Except this time, no one was pushing them.
This moment was so different, yet so... similar. They were seeing each other again for the first time, this time facing the truth. No assumptions. Nothing but their feelings hanging in the air.
And yeah, the realization hit them both at once.
The weight of unspoken words. The terrifying fear of the answers and the impossibility of denying them.
“... Oh.” Midoriya whispered.
Bakugou didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out shakily. “... Yeah. Oh.”
Then, without wasting any time, he reached out, stopping just before touching him, but knowing that if he doesn’t, he would regret, just as he had once before. “I didn’t say anything because I thought I was already too late.”
As the other saw the hand approaching him, he flinched. Not from fear, but from how much he had anticipated this. He smiled slightly, but bravely. “I didn’t said anything because I thought I didn’t have the right.”
Bakugou’s hand finally crossed around Midoriya’s sleeve, grinning too. “Tch. Idiot.”
That sound he loves comes directly at him after he says those words, along with three words that made him laugh too. “You too, Kacchan.”
Kissing under the stars, sweating after practicing, wasn’t part of the plan. Replacing that heavy feeling in their chest with a warm embrace wasn’t either. But now that it was happening, they both knew they wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.
Bakugou held the other as if afraid that if he let go, he would disappear; while Midoriya clung to him as if he couldn’t think of a better place to be.
This was their way of expressing everything. They didn’t need to speak, they didn’t need an audience, explosions, a grand presentation.
They were just two boys who had finally stopped lying to themselves.
Later, when they walked back to the dorms side by side, hands brushing, neither of them noticed Ochako watching from a window.
Because she wasn’t.
And just the two of them, alone, was more than enough.