#superbiia

The thing with Izuku was that he had a habit of having a bit of a hive mind. His brain collected data, processed and recorded it all for future use, no matter how improbable the reuse of some of that data was.

He also had a habit of being wrong frequently. Izuku thought Bakugou would destroy him at some point; he still hadn’t. He thought that Bakugou wouldn’t be serious about making him the guitarist of the band; he was also wrong. He’d been so wrong so often over the course of the last few years it was a wonder how he ever came to the conclusion that at one point he could be right.

Hell, even now, he was dead wrong.

The kisses were none too gentle, more teeth than anything, mouths slotting together as Izuku attempted to figure out which way was the best way to get the most out of each press of lips. The kitchen counter was biting into his back somewhat, he could feel it. Shirt bunched up around his back, he could feel the cold of the ceramic top, just slightly–nothing too distracting from the task at hand.The task at hand hovered over him, fingernails dug deep into his skin. Deep enough that Izuku came to the conclusion that he should probably avoid wearing anything that would ride up.

Then there was his phone was ringing in his pocket too, that was enough of a distraction. More than the countertop, and he was sure Bakugou could feel the ringing. If it wasn’t clear from the annoyed grimace he could feel against his lips, then how Bakugou was pressed up against him would be enough evidence in that folder to make Izuku’s case. He could almost picture the downward shape of Bakugou’s eyebrows, the crease in his brow, the barest crinkle of his nose.Izuku felt him move off some, still a centimeter or two away from his mouth when he spoke, “Can’t you shut that shit off?”Izuku rolled his eyes, “It’s p-probably something important.” He fished around his pockets for his phone, just in time to watch it light up and vibrate again. Bakugou seemed even more disgruntled when he saw the device, glaring at it like it’d killed his first born. It was a look he often gave Izuku.

“I’m gonna a-answer it.”That look was turned toward Izuku, where it belonged, once more, “Are you fucking serious?”“It’s the temporary m-manager, she’s probably c-calling to talk to m-me about the new concert d-dates.” “You’re a real piece of shit, Deku.” There was a roll to Bakugou’s eyes, yet, he didn’t move. Izuku didn’t question why, with his current streak of being absolutely dead wrong he figured any prediction he made about Bakugou and what he’d do would be moot.

“Weren’t y-you the one who d-discovered that f-first?” A pause, “I’m a-answering.”“You’re kidding–”“Nope.”“Do it, I fucking dare you.”

There it was, the challenge, and when it came to challenges, neither of them was the type to back down in regards to one another. Eyes screamed indignance as Izuku made no move to move, hitting the answer button and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” 

The voice on the other line seemed crackly, but he was too busy staring dead at Bakugou as he stared back at him. The new look to his eyes seemed more studious than anything else, because well–it’s not like he didn’t see this coming.

“Ah! Deku, I’m glad I got a hold of you! I finalized the next set of concert dates, Aizawa was a little on the hesitant side about having very few during the colder months but I got confirmation that everything is good to go!” 

Izuku let a smile grace his features, “I’m glad,” There were fingers lightly treading the exposed skin of his back now, which he promptly ignored by turning his attention elsewhere, “Any w-word on the–you k-know…”

“The fire machine?”

“Yeah, th-that.” He had a lot to thank Kirishima for, after all.

“Oh, everything needs to be processed, still. I should be able to get it to you in the next week or two. I’m just glad that you helped me find out how where to find one so I could do the rest.”

“I-It’s no a big d-deal, you’ve been doing m-most of the dirty work lately,” Izuku answered with a breathy laugh.

“You usually do this all by yourself though.”

“And th-that’s why I ended up th-the way I did.” Izuku wasn’t paying attention to Bakugou, and as usual, that would be his downfall. He didn’t see him moved his head down, didn’t see him shift at all, didn’t notice until teeth dug into the skin of his neck mid sentence, “ I’m just h-happy to have the he–AH!”

“Deku!? Are you okay?”

He cut his trembles into hisses past his lips, “A-Ah, yeah, th-thank you, Uraraka,” There was another bite, one he had to stifle the groan for–if only because it was followed by touches in other places, much, much lower than his neck.“Are you sure?”“Y-Yeah! Lemme just, c-call you back in a s-second.” He didn’t even wait to hear confirmation that she had heard that, immediately clicking so he could let out the whine he’d been holding back the moment Bakugou started leaving bites on other segments of his neck.“I h-hate you,” Izuku sighed out, sounding vaguely irritated, grateful he had no intentions of leaving the house.“Trust me, dumbass, the feeling’s mutual,” Bakugou said against his skin, sending tremors over his body.

“That w-was important.”

“Who the fuck answers a call while they’re busy doing other shit?”Izuku brought a hand up, slipping it over the back of Bakugou’s shoulder blades, wishing for a moment he could roll his eyes into the back of his head to accentuate his absolute disdain.

“It w-was important, what p-part of that don’t y-you get?”“The part where you’re still fucking talking.” Bakugou moved to face him now, and Izuku wished for a moment that he had stayed where he was. Out of sight. Where he belonged. Sorta.

“Foul.” Izuku scrunched his nose at him.

“Sure, like you’re not.”Izuku’s expression became a pointed glare, “You’re w-worse than me.”“Your fucking room would beg to differ, the fact that shit even exists is foul,” Bakugou shot back, getting in his face again, noses pressed against each other.

It took everything in Izuku to not look scandalized, more so than he already did, “What’s so b-bad about my r-room?”

“Fucking–who keeps their sex toys in the same place as their fucking action figures? The only good thing that came out of it was when Icyhot got stuck in that one paddling machine,” Bakugou feigned nausea, something Izuku was convinced only he could do–or he was about to throw up and he should move as soon as possible–

“It’s gross, I’m not talking about it anymore.”“All you do i-is make jabs at m-me and my interests and y–”“–And yet you’re still fucking here, eh? Deku?” Bakugou finished for him, leaving Izuku without any room to turn.

Well, he had a point. And Izuku briefly wondered when he started having a point. In anything. They still fought, continuously even–about as much as usual. But now he had a point. Izuku hadn’t moved, and really, when had he ever. A glutton for punishment probably, that’s what it was–the first time it happened that’s the conclusion he had come to.

Glutton–for foul things apparently.

Izuku leaned up a bit, sliding his tongue over Bakugou’s bottom lip, treading dangerous waters. A good mood, and he’d get snapped at, a bad mood and he’d have to pay for the coffee maker for the seventh time that week. With the squabbling, he couldn’t be sure–Izuku was wrong, wrong often these days after all–usually about himself too.

Though, he did tend to enjoy the moments he turned out to be right. Especially when they worked in his favor, like when despite the disgusted grunt that fell from Bakugou’s lips, he still pressed back. He was the aggressive type, swallowed instead of lapped, unlike Todoroki. Not scared of leaving welts, even when Izuku’s favorite shirts consisted of no sleeves. Thankfully, second in line were sweaters.It was probably only with Izuku though, but he didn’t dare suggest or think it–not because he was wrong of course–not this time anyway.

Instead, Izuku, for once in his very puny existence, decided to stop thinking altogether. Decided to ignore that Bakugou didn’t even bother to register his name in his phone because he was ‘Fucking Deku’. Decided to ignore that earlier the very same day they were arguing in front of Kirishima about the logistics of a pressure cooker while Todoroki scrolled through Amazon on his phone to buy a pressure cooker.

They’d gotten in each other’s faces again later, but this time there was no mediator and what you couldn’t settle when pent up emotions were involved seemed to be easily discussed through actions rather than words. Or fingertips digging deep into one’s back. Those were one in the same right?

Izuku let himself be pressed against the counter as much as possible, lips parting after a few brief firm kisses against them. He shoved the phone still in his other hand onto the countertop and toward the microwave in favor of perching it against Bakugou’s chest.

The gap in height between the two of them had gotten smaller in the last year or two, but out of habit Izuku tilted his head back, crumpled a little, letting kisses become more and more aggressive with each passing second. And it wasn’t like he didn’t return the aggression, because he pressed back with a similar ferocity. It just so happened that the more harsh Izuku got, the harsher Bakugou was in return. He didn’t mind it, though, didn’t mind being grabbed, pulled back harshly. Letting Bakugou muffle the soft groans that passed Izuku’s mouth, breath hitching when they both sidled up closer to one another. Heat of the moment stuff, the way Izuku raised his leg and straddled Bakugou’s hip without getting anything too noteworthy of a reaction, nothing his hive mind of a brain would have articulated as a possibility. Hands moved, one of them around the side of Izuku’s neck, thumb brushing at the juncture that connected his neck to his jaw. The other went somewhere behind him, a few tugs at the back of his head told him so. Tugs that kept coming until he felt the ponytail that rested on the back of his head come free. Izuku pulled back from the licks at nips they kept taking at each other to say something–

Until the phone rang, again.“I’m going to break that thing.”“Only i-if you pay for it,” Izuku let out harshly, ignoring the heat flaring up all over his body as he patted the counter behind him until he grabbed a hold of the phone just to look at it.“It’s K-Kirishima..”

Bakugou pushed his own hair back, nose scrunching in what seemed like interest–to be fair, this also interested Izuku, “Why?”“Lemme a-answer and we’ll find out.”Izuku pressed the answer button, raising the phone to his ear, “Hello?”“H-Hey! Midoriya, I–uhm, are you busy?”Izuku’s eyes flickered toward Bakugou as he put the phone on speaker, holding it up between them, “No, I’m n-not really busy, w-why?”