#tdbkweek19

Todoroki must doze off again, because it’s brighter when he next opens his eyes. It takes him a minute to focus on the pale face inches from his. “...Ichi,” Todoroki murmurs. “Where’s… your brother?”

“Dad is with him. They’re making breakfast,” Ichirou whispers. His features grow clearer when he moves closer. His head is a messy explosion of pink spikes: he has worse bed-hair than Bakugou. His crimson eyes are alert, though, which is more than Todoroki can say about himself. “Dad said to wake you up. Gently, though.”

“Did he?” Todoroki smiles tiredly and closes his eyes again. “Tell Dad... I’ll come out soon…”

“‘Kay.” Ichirou’s footsteps retreat back into the hall, and Todoroki has almost fallen asleep again when he feels a warm hand on his forehead.

“Are you really that tired, Icy Hot?”

“Mm,” Todoroki mumbles, sliding his fingers up Bakugou’s wrist. In one swift motion, he pulls him into the bed and locks his arms around him, ignoring his shouts of protest. He’s always so warm, like a human heater…

“Shouto, really— Ow— Stop squeezing me so hard. What the fuck, have you been working out more?” He gives up and sighs when Todoroki refuses to release him. “Jesus, you’re more of a baby than Shoji.”

“Shoji…” Todoroki mumbles faintly against Bakugou’s back. “Where is he?”

“Ichi has him in the kitchen. He sent me to get you because he knew you wouldn’t get up. Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one? Ow, ow— Okay, I’m sorry. Quit strangling me!”

Todoroki loosens his grip, inhaling Bakugou’s comforting smell. “I don’t want to get up...”

“Well no shit.”

“Stay in bed with me.”

“Our kids have more willpower than you, Shouto. I’m serious. One of them is seven and the other is an infant.”

“Stay.”

“I’m not doing it just because you keep repeating— Ow. God dammit. Seriously, what weights are you using?”

“Dad?” a voice calls from their bedroom doorway.

“Oh Ichirou, thank god. Come and ice your father’s foot.”

“If you do that, you’re grounded,” Todoroki mumbles, tightening his hold on Bakugou’s waist. He may act tougher, but Todoroki is the scarier parent in the end, and Ichirou knows it.

“I’m... gonna get ready for school.”

“Traitor!” Bakugou yells before the door closes. “Dammit. Shouto, you’re dead— Hey, don’t kiss my neck, bastard. I’m fucking mad at you. Really.” Despite his protests, he isn’t struggling anymore. “Ugh… Ten minutes. Ten.”

“I loveee you, Katsuki,” Todoroki drones slowly.

“Shut up and sleep before I kill you.” Bakugou hesitates a long time before grumbling, “Love you, too,” under his breath.

“Fuck if I know. The real question is why they decided to put that headline with my name. Yeah, I don’t wear a cape—but nobody fucking does because they look stupid as hell.” He folds the paper and chucks it away with an irritated scoff. “Whatever. I don’t get newspaper writers.”

Todoroki finishes preparing the coffee and sets a steaming mug in front of him. “It’s not all bad. You look good in the picture, at least.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bakugou grumbles into his coffee. “They always write the best articles about you.”

“That’s not true. Remember that horrible piece about me breaking into my dad’s house and making that ice sculpture in the—“

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. But nobody blamed you for that! It was hilarious. All the articles about me have stupid titles and are boring as shit. They did one about what fucking grocery store I shop at. Like, what the fuck is that bullshit?”

“This article isn’t terrible, though.” Todoroki picks up the paper to skim the bottom half of the article. “They said a lot of good things about you. Maybe the title is a metaphor for something.”

“What could that possibly be a metaphor for?” Bakugou snatches the paper from him and frisbees it into the trash bin. “Don’t read this garbage anymore. You should be cheering me up instead.”

“You can’t get so upset over every little thing,” Todoroki scolds. “You’re a professional hero, Katsuki.” He takes a sip of coffee, pointedly refusing to yield to Bakugou’s mood attempt at flirting. “You should focus on the good rather than the bad—“ He flinches, nearly dropping his All Might mug. “Hey, that’s— Katsuki. Get your foot off my leg.”

“Will you stop pep-talking me if I do?” Bakugou drones with a smirk, pushing his toes farther up Todoroki’s inner thigh. “I’m not a hero right now, Shouto. Not even close.” He moves his foot higher, and Todoroki actually drops his mug. He barely manages to freeze it before it can shatter on the floor, escaping Bakugou when he half-stands to throw out his right arm.

His face is beet red, which is beyond satisfying. He seems relieved to have escaped both close calls—but, of course, he has all of three seconds to sigh in relief before Bakugou smirks evilly. He shifts lower in his seat to stick a foot between his legs again, and Todoroki instantly yelps, falling back into his chair.

“Katsuki, I swear to— I will kill you.”

“Come on, be supportive~” Bakugou yanks his leg back before Todoroki can set his track pants on fire. “Ooh, feisty. This isn’t very heroic of you, Shouto.” It’s far too easy to tease him, even after years of living and working together.

“I can and will go stay with Midoriya,” Todoroki threatens seriously.

“That’s just a low blow— Hey, okay, I’m kidding! Shouto!” Bakugou lunges over the table to grab his arm, nearly knocking over his own coffee in the process. “Come on, don’t leave.”

“Fine. Don’t doubt yourself, then.” Todoroki latches onto his wrist and presses their foreheads together. He’s too intense in moments like these. “You’re a hero, Katsuki, even when you’re off-duty. I don’t like seeing you second-guess your abilities.” He wraps his arms around Bakugou, who hooks a leg around his knee reflexively.

“Hey, I’m not doubting myself, alright? Geez...” Bakugou hugs him back, sighing against his neck. “Who was supposed to be receiving comfort, here?”

“As if you needed it in the first place. You were just— Get your hand off my ass.”

“You’re the one who said not to second-guess myself, Shouto.”

“I... really hate you.”

Speaking of Bakugou, he’s fallen asleep. Predictable. “And it’s only a two-hour train ride,” Todoroki mutters aloud, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

The sun makes his hair glow golden. Todoroki brushes his fingertips across the edges, pressing them down to feel the warm skin beneath. One of Bakugou’s main reasons behind loving the beach is the warmth. He usually complains about the summer heat, but he told Todoroki that the sunshine at the beach feels more relaxing. Todoroki is a bit skeptical, but the sun does feel nicer, and they haven’t even reached the sea yet.

“Mm…” Bakugou groans, blinking open his eyes sleepily. “What, Shouto… Are we there?”

“Not yet.” Todoroki withdraws his hand to let Bakugou sit up. “You haven’t been asleep very long.”

“You were watching me sleep again, creep?”

“I can’t help it. Your face looks so peaceful, not like normal.”

“Wanna get punched?” Bakugou pushes Todoroki’s head away before dropping an arm around his shoulder. “Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, “I’m not, like… dragging you, am I? Because I don’t want to be a dick and force you to come to the beach.”

“What?” Todoroki catches himself before he can snort. “You’re worrying about that? That’s not like you.” When Bakugou scowls, he sighs slowly. “You’re not forcing me, Katsuki. I want to go.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please don’t ask again.”

Bakugou raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, fuck. I’m just being considerate, asshole.”

“It’s weird,” Todoroki says pseudo-seriously.

“Is your opinion of me that bad, Icy Hot?” Bakugou replies, lips twitching to fight back a smile. Their insults always evolve into jokes.

“Kind of.”

“Asshole.”

“Jerk.”

Bakugou’s catches Todoroki in a fake headlock. After giving him a hard time for a while, his arms relax and he presses their shoulders together. “I think you’ll like the beach. I also have a secret motive for bringing you there.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You’re always so, y’know...” Bakugou gestures vaguely. “Meh. Not to say that I hate it or anything, but I want to get you excited about something.”

“I’m excited about a lot of things,” Todoroki protests. “Can’t you tell?”

“I mean, yeah, but I mean unchecked excitement, like childlike excitement.” He frowns. “Fuck, I can’t explain it right. Whatever. You’ll see when we get there.” He looks out the window, and Todoroki takes the opportunity to study his face. The sun paints it golden, mixed with soft shadows across his lips and cheekbones.

Todoroki might understand it a little. But rather than excitement, he feels something more like… contentment. Watching light filter through the window and kiss Bakugou’s face fills him with an indescribable kind of warmth—the warmth of summer sunlight and Bakugou’s hand in his.

It’s almost nostalgic, in a way. Todoroki can remember years of riding the train alone, and never once to the seaside. To be sitting together with someone else is almost surreal. When did he get so lucky?

Well… others might not call being around Bakugou Katsuki ‘lucky,’ but for Todoroki—who’s never known what it is to be unconditionally loved—he’s like the sunlight. He crept in through the dark curtains and brightened everything up without permission.

Todoroki stumbles off down the hall with his cardboard burden while Bakugou stands in the living room looking at the unpositioned furniture and piles of unpacked boxes. It feels surreal to be moving in together. They’ve been talking about it for a long time, but hero work always interferes. Now—after Bakugou’s been transferred to Todoroki’s agency—the dream is finally becoming a reality. Of course, the reality is full of things to be unpacked.

Bakugou kneels beside a half-open box, flipping back the bent flaps. A pile of photos is messily stacked on top of a few throw pillows. The top one is from their U.A. graduation. Bakugou has his arm around Todoroki’s neck, whose mouth is open in mid-protest. Behind the camera is hiding Bakugou’s mother, laughing her head off.

“I love that picture,” Todoroki says from behind, leaning over his shoulder.

“We’re not even smiling, though.”

“We smiled after it was taken: that’s what counts.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and sets the picture back in the box, reaching for another. “Oh, what about this one?” He hands the photo back to Todoroki, who groans.

“You took a picture of this?”

“Obviously.” Bakugou pulls Todoroki down into his lap, stealing the photo back. “This was our first date.”

“And I was so nervous that I kept saying stupid things, and you kept getting mad,” Todoroki concludes. “And then it started downpouring, and we both caught colds—and you felt the need to take a picture of me passed out in your bed.”

“It was a big moment for me! Look, you’re even wearing my clothes, for fuck’s sake. I’m supposed to not take a picture of that?”

Todoroki shakes his head in reluctant defeat. “Ugh, I give up.” He taps on Bakugou’s arm, which is locked around him from behind. “Let go already, okay? We need to start unpacking.”

“Come on, have a heart,” Bakugou drones, tightening his grip. “Don’t you want to drift around in the nostalgia? All of our memories from five entire years are in these boxes.”

“What a coincidence: we can relive them while we unpack.”

Bakugou sighs slowly into Todoroki’s hair. He just wants to stay like this for the rest of the day. Unpacking will mean letting him go, and he isn’t ready to do that yet. Between hero work and moving, they haven’t had time to relax in what feels like an eternity. Todoroki should be easily persuaded under these circumstances.

“Shit… Just give me five more minutes,” Bakugou mutters, tightening his grip on Todoroki’s waist. He’s wearing an All Might hoodie, and he smells like peppermint. It’s making Bakugou want to fall asleep. “Please?”

“You’re such a kid,” Todoroki complains, but he stops struggling anyway. The ‘please’ always wins. Bakugou pulls him closer, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply to cement his victory. It’s funny: Todoroki really does always smell minty—although Bakugou has yet to prove that it’s because of his quirk.

“You’re trying to wear me down, aren’t you?” Todoroki says after a few moments of content silence. “Holding me in place so I’m forced to feel loved and look at these pictures with you? Is that your plan?”

“Now it is.” Bakugou smirks, kissing the nape of Todoroki’s neck, who sighs softly: he’s getting weaker. “Is it going to work, Shouto?”

“I’m not a nostalgic person,” Todoroki murmurs, dodging the question. He sighs again. “I suppose we would’ve needed to look through these pictures anyway.”

“Huh, you’re absolutely right.” Bakugou takes a moment to kiss his neck again before scooting closer to the box, keeping Todoroki balanced on his lap. He picks out another picture. “Oh, I forgot that I took this. Look at how cute you were the morning after.”

“You better burn that.”

“Did you say frame it?”

“Katsuki—”

“Okay, okay: I’m kidding.” Bakugou sets the picture back in the box and rests his chin on Todoroki’s shoulder. After another moment of silence, he sighs. “Moving in together… It’s weird as hell.”

“Haven’t you been wanting to do this for ages?”

“Well yeah. I didn’t think I’d have to transfer to your agency to make it happen, though. Not that I hate it or anything. I just wish things could’ve been easier.” Todoroki might take that the wrong way, so he adds, “I wish I could’ve lived with you from the start.”

The words have the desired effect: Todoroki slumps in his embrace, letting himself be fully enveloped. “This is unfair…” he protests quietly. “Now you’re making me feel nostalgic about the future, too.”