Katsuki Bakugo had never really given much thought to dating before U.A. Not because he thought he was above it—he just didn’t have the time or interest. Being the best, becoming the number one hero, climbing every damn mountain between him and greatness—that was the priority.

Until he happened.

He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t loud or trying to compete with Bakugo in everything like some other idiots (cough Deku cough). He was just there. In class, during training, walking beside Bakugo on the way back to the dorms, always saying something kind of funny or kind of dumb or kind of thoughtful that made Bakugo’s chest feel… weird. Like his heart wanted to punch something.

At first, Bakugo thought he was just annoyed. That made sense—he was always annoyed. But it wasn’t that. Not really. It hit him one day during training when the guy laughed at something Bakugo muttered under his breath. It wasn’t even funny, but he laughed anyway, all crooked smile and eyes crinkled, and Bakugo’s stomach dropped out like he'd missed a step on the stairs.

Shit. He was into him.

He’d never had a crush before, and suddenly this one was crashing through him like one of his own explosions. It took him a week to work up the courage to ask him out. And by “ask him out,” he meant yell “You free Saturday or not, dumbass?!” at him in the hallway before stomping off like he hadn’t just risked emotional death.

But the idiot said yes.

Their first date was at a small takoyaki place not far from campus. Bakugo showed up ten minutes early, then paced around the corner so he didn’t look too eager. When he finally spotted him coming down the street, his heart did that stupid drop thing again.

They sat across from each other, both a little stiff. Conversation was awkward at first, clunky like they were speaking a new language. Bakugo kept knocking over the sauce bottle. He muttered something about how dumb this was, and the guy just smiled and said, “It’s okay. I’ve never done this before either.” That loosened something in Bakugo’s chest. Made him feel less like he was on the edge of a cliff.

After eating, they walked back toward the dorms. It was a little chilly, the sky dusky. Their shoulders kept brushing, and Bakugo’s fingers twitched like they wanted to do something but didn’t know what. And then—he felt it. Fingers brushing his. Not accidental. Testing the waters.

Bakugo grabbed his hand before he could overthink it and looked anywhere but at him. His palm was sweaty. So was the guy’s. But neither of them let go.

For the next few days, everything felt like it was happening in a strange kind of slow motion. They kept finding each other—after class, in the common room, on the roof when things got too loud. It wasn’t overly romantic or dramatic. It was just them, quietly orbiting each other like they were still figuring out the gravity between them.

Bakugo wasn’t sure how to do this. He wasn’t the “gentle” type. But when they sat next to each other on the couch one evening—knees touching, some dumb movie playing in the background and his heart thudding like a war drum—he turned toward him before he could chicken out.

“Hey,” he said, low and rough, barely looking him in the eye.

The other boy tilted his head. “Yeah?”

And that was it. That was the moment. Bakugo leaned in, slow but not hesitant. His hand found the guy’s hoodie sleeve, gripping it tight like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Their lips met—finally.

It was short and messy and weird. Their noses bumped, lips not quite lined up. But somehow it worked. And when they pulled apart, both of them smiling a little too wide, Bakugo’s face felt like it was on fire.

He grumbled something about “don’t get used to that,” and the other boy just laughed, shoved his shoulder gently, and said, “Too late.”