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He was out of his mind.
All Bakugou Katsuki could smell was fried batter, and flat soda, and something that was like the grass after it had been cut, with a thick, drowsy layer of a day spent walking around and forgetting to take a shower.
He shouldn't have been smelling it.
His nose shouldn't have been sliding underneath someone’s hair.
He shouldn't have had anyone using him as a makeshift pillow, because his room was his, and that meant that he was the only one that should be using his bed to pass out on.
But somehow he was here, again, with Sero Hanta leaning up against him. The lanky boy’s mouth hung wide, snoring like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all the day before.
Someone drooling shouldn’t have been attractive; it was disgusting.
Yet, Bakugou couldn’t help it when his eyes drifted away from the video disk he’d set up at the end of the bed, projecting a movie neither were watching. Instead, Bakugou observed the ever increasing pool of spit that accumulated on the edge of Sero’s mouth, threatening to drip over.
It was gross.
He sighed.
Nasty as hell.
And also…
Cute.
Fuck, it was so cute!
He hated how much he liked this.
Every hang out with Sero should have ticked off red flags on Bakugou Katsuki’s social tolerance card.
Talked during movies? Check. Sero’s mouth was a leaky faucet, giving his unwarranted director’s commentary not less than five minutes into whatever they were watching. Bakugou had to keep shoving his hand over Sero’s mouth, just to give him a reprieve so he could catch some of the plot.
Messy eater? Check. There were crumbs in Bakugou’s bed. This wasn’t the first time, either. Sero always took a bite that was too big, and failed to catch the fall out. On more than one occasion, Bakugou had sheets that smelled like popcorn even after he’d washed them.
Lack of personal space? Check and double check! Bakugou’s friends at UA were all addicted to hugs. As far as he was concerned, it was an epidemic. When one of them jumped on his back, another was bound to follow. However, Sero did it in ways that weren’t as sudden as the others. He was covert. He was so damn tall, that his long arms snuck around Bakugou, and before he knew it, Sero would be wrapped around his back, or tucked into his side, finding the recesses of Bakugou’s body to fall into comfortably. And if he wasn’t hugging him? He was talking so close. Nose to nose, laughing into Bakugou’s ear, like only the two of them were supposed to hear it.
And he always fell asleep in the middle of whatever they were doing! Watching something, doing homework, or even playing a game. Sero constantly made Bakugou’s space his space as well.
It was annoying.
Bakugou should have been keeping his door locked, with a sign that read ‘No Tape Bastards’.
But, instead, he didn’t shift, for fear that it would wake up Sero from a nap that was probably long overdue after a grueling day balancing academics and work studies.
He didn’t yell at him like the world’s most demanding alarm clock.
Bakugou usually let him stay.
Carrying him was a pain in the ass, Bakugou told himself.
It was tedious.
That was why he didn’t drop Sero off in his bed.
Sero was tall and gangly and awkward to hold over his shoulder, his arms brushing the ground on occasion when Bakugou hoisted him up.
That was why he didn’t fight it. Sero being here. Then, and now.
A sigh of frustration and something deeper and more anxious, welling up in his gut, made Bakugou’s shoulders fall. Sero moved with the breath, shifting even closer. He turned into Bakugou, closing his mouth, damming up the pond forming at the precipice of his lips. When he swallowed, Bakugou felt it. Sero’s throat bobbed, and Bakugou’s did along with it, gulping down the blush that wanted to crawl straight out of his mouth and sigh like some lovelorn ingénue.
No way was Bakugou going to let that happen.
He didn’t need to make his life messy with all of these feelings threatening to rise to the surface every time he looked at Sero, much less let him linger.
Like thinking all these little inconveniences were Cute.
Fuck it…
They were!
How the boy nuzzled under Bakugou’s chin, like he was two sizes smaller. In actuality, he hovered over Bakugou daily. Not here. Not now. He curled up like a kitten, wrapping a hand around Bakugou’s middle, finding a new space to call his through the heave of breath that left his lips and brushed over Bakugou’s neck.
Bakugou froze.
As Sero pushed his head against Bakugou’s collarbone, he pulled Bakugou’s nose farther against his scalp. It smelled like more than grass. It was pine trees from the woods. It was bark and sap and shampoo that was minty, making everything feel like a winter holiday.
The scent was overwhelming.
Sero’s fingers twisting into the black tanktop, trod on intimate.
This was no help for Bakugou, who was becoming acutely aware of how many times they’d hung out, just the two of them. Awake and asleep. Full of snacks and still waking up in the middle of the night to wander to the kitchen. Laughing beside each other, then breathing too long and too deep while the clock ticked away the time that Bakugou failed to make a move toward something that felt less like friendship with each successive day he tolerated Sero’s presence.
He didn’t need this, Bakugou insisted once more.
He could sit and watch his old favorites with any of the extras that hung on his every word. Those classmates of his who had decided he was their friend when he’d done his best to keep them at arm’s length. He had Deku, when all else failed. They’d known each other for too long, shared too many things, too many lives, so asking him to come share a moment of this life would have been a guarantee.
But Sero’s arms were too long to keep him far away; he always managed to reach Bakugou, even if he tried to escape.
Like now, when those fingers untwisted and stretched out like the cat Sero had become, and dug in, gently, kneading at Bakugou’s side.
Breathing in.
And out.
Against his skin.
Like wind through the trees Sero had to have been swinging through that day.
Sero’s head tilted up.
Nose, brushing Bakugou’s chin.
An uncharacteristic squeak twisted in Bakugou’s throat.
A crack and pop blew underneath his clenched fists.
“Wazzat?!” Sero snapped awake, head cracking against Bakugou’s chin, his cheek having left a warm, red imprint at the top of Bakugou’s chest.
A string of curses left Bakugou’s lips that sounded like one, long, newly minted scourge upon the world that could have possibly offended everyone and anyone, if they only knew how to parse it out. His teeth rattled in his jaw where he was pretty sure they all remained, even though Sero had hit him so hard he thought one might have lodged into his brain.
He opened one watery eye that was sucking up the pain to see Sero, wide-eyed, blabbering out some apology between a laugh that he was attempting to cover up, “You’re so red, dude! I’m… Pfffft… I’m sorry… hahaHA… What happened?!”
It was futile.
And it was so…
Damn…
CUTE!
A small puff of smoke erupted from Bakugou’s hand again, the snap of a small explosion sizzling between fingers, rolling over knuckles, hidden, but still wholly evident.
“Shut your face and pay attention to the movie!” Bakugou growled, grabbing Sero around the waist and pulling him close, then shoving his head back down to his chest, pointing him toward the projection at the end of his bed, “You fall asleep every time, and I’m not going to restart this for a fifth time. You wanted to watch it, we’re fucking watching it.”
In truth, he loved the old film.
He wanted to watch it a million times more.
With Sero…
Even if he did fall asleep at the same spot, thirty minutes in, like clock work.
“Don’t start a fire in your bed because you’re upset I’m a little tired!” Sero countered, pushing a hand up to catch Bakugou’s face and push back.
Bakugou abandoned keeping Sero’s head flat, instead snagging the fingers pushing against his cheek, “Maybe if you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to eat whatever extra cake Sato made, you’d hit your damn REM cycle like a normal person.” His fingers moved to twist Sero’s, but the other boy was swift, and turned them back, until both of their hands were linked, pushing together, palm to palm.
Sero grit his teeth.
Bakugou gnashed his own.
Devilish, competitive smirks slid over their faces as Bakugou kept Sero close, pulling on his waist, and Sero pressed forward into Bakugou’s side. They pushed with their palms in a test of strength.
Sero’s arm moved back.
Bakugou laughed, low and triumphant.
Then, Sero surged forward.
Bakugou’s elbow unlocked.
And it was Sero’s chance to smile wide, gaining the upperhand.
Bakugou’s arm slipped, and, with it Sero fell forward, laughing as his nose pressed into Bakugou’s cheek and he shouted, “I win! My sleepy ass wins!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou grumbled, the blush blooming out from where he’d fiercely held it in. He scrambled to push Sero back down. This time, the boy relented, finding the warm space right above Bakugou’s heart.
And as he continued to laugh, he stretched even farther, to a place where only his arms were able to reach.
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