a/n: Projecting some arospec goodness onto Bakugou today. Bkdk pride week day 4: love / green
1k, rated g
“Hi, Kacchan!”
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump…
It was the simplest in middle school. Everyone around him was crazy about girls, ogling the nearby girls’ school students as they walked home in their skirts and button downs. Meanwhile, Katsuki wondered why all these extras around him were so interested in dating. It wasn’t like they were going to marry anyone they met in middle school so what was the point?
Idiots, honestly.
High school was harder. The proximity provided by a co-ed school was more than some of these halfwits could take and suddenly most everyone was interested in dating. They would try it, it would fail after three months, and the whole time the dumbasses were distracted from their school work. A goddamn waste of time, as far as Katsuki was concerned.
He was trying to be a hero. And if being the only person in the room not fretting over who they were going to hold fucking hands with at lunch gave him an edge, he’d take it.
It wasn’t just his determination that was doing this to him. Himself aside, the most determined person he knew was damn Deku, and even that nerd was having some kind of flirtation with Round Face. So he just wasn’t into people like that. Fine. He barely liked people to begin with.
So why then, years later:
Katsuki was still working under the manicured thumb of Best Jeanist. He thought he’d be solo by now—Hawks had done it. Fucking Endeavorhad done it—but the way it was looking, that wouldn’t happen until he was twenty-five, and probably no earlier. So he was largely at the mercy of whatever that coiffed head of hair needed from him. And when Jeanist hired on some interns on as sidekicks he shuffled everyone’s patrols around.
Including Katsuki’s. And who should he see on his first patrol but—
“Hi, Kacchan!”
Katsuki felt his palms begin to sweat, which was goddamn unusual, because he had worked for years to master complete control over the sweat glands in his hands. He looked up to see that stupid old familiar face, barely slimmed since elementary school. The only real difference from childhood was how weatherworn Deku’s skin had gotten; he was tanner, more deeply freckled, and crow’s feet had just begun to walk their lines across his skin from all that goddamn smiling. It had been months since Katsuki had seen the fucker.
And yet, his heart went: ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump…
