Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t a lightweight. He refused to be. But whatever the hell they’d just downed was hitting harder than expected. Well, that was cheap convenience store wine for you.

He leaned back against the foot of the bed, legs stretched out, his socked foot nudging against his best friend’s.

“Okay,” his friend huffed, tilting his head back against the mattress. “Real talk. Ever liked someone before?”

Bakugo scoffed. “What kinda dumbass question is that?”

“A normal one?” His friend snickered, nudging his shoulder. “Come on, man.”

Bakugo frowned. Had he? He guessed, but never seriously. Girls never caught his attention like they did for others. Too busy training. Too busy pushing forward.

He shrugged. “Not really.”

His friend hummed. “Maybe we just don’t like girls?”

That got Bakugo’s attention. He turned, narrowing his eyes. “What, you into guys?”

“I don’t know,” his friend groaned. “Never really thought about it.” A pause. “You?”

Bakugo clenched his jaw. “Hell if I know.” He was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, how warm the air felt. His pulse picked up.

His best friend—his only real friend. They’d done everything together. Maybe this was just one more thing to figure out.

“We could try it,” his friend blurted.

Bakugo’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched.

“…Yeah,” he muttered, keeping his voice even. “Guess we could.”

A pause.

Then a slow, lopsided grin. “Well,” his friend breathed, shifting closer. “For science, right?”

Bakugo swallowed.

“…Yeah.”

Then, naturally, like everything else they did together—he leaned in.