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Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki can tell exactly what's going on in Midoriya Izuku's head.

Of course, it's not like the guy is hard to read. He's easier to read than a fucking children's book. With three words per page. Specifically, "I like you." Over and over again. Sometimes, even a "God, you're cute." Or, if Katsuki was extremely lucky, and Deku had lost his tight-lippedness, just "Goddamn".

At least, that seems to be his thought process every time someone cute walks into the café.

But first, Katsuki should probably backtrack a little. Just to give context on how long this goddamn insanity has been going on.

Midoriya Izuku probably thinks early mornings are the kindest time of day. He's probably thankful that all anyone wants when the sun rises before they have to trudge off to work is a cup of coffee, please. He's in the eye of the storm that's literally every other shift besides the early morning and the late night one.

Personally, Katsuki's much more fond (if that's even the word he can tag on to it - he's never really felt fond of anything) of late mornings, all through the lunch rush. With drink spillages, food disasters, complaints, and interns scurrying in to pick up 'six bagels, eight cups of black coffee and just a croissant, thanks so much', he's never short of things to do.

Which makes a lot of sense since Katsuki's passion is multitasking. It's almost as if managing several tasks at once is second nature to him by this point. If he had to sit down, stay still and just breathe for a minimum of five seconds, he'd probably have a fit and throw the chair he was sitting on instead. In the end, things like the hustle and bustle of a café late in the day are what calms him, in some fucked up way.

There are other employees, of course, but it’s not like Katsuki really takes any note of them. Even if they shared his shift, they were as good as dead to him. And that's saying something, since he nearly occupied every shift apart from the late evening and late night one. (He claimed it wasn't busy enough for him.)

Deku is different from all of them, though.

Deku is far, far more irritating.

It's not like the dipshit knows it either, what with that cheery smile of his that brightened the day of everyone who ordered from him before the day even started, the sparkling eyes that said that they were safe from the constraints of time for as long as they sat in the coffee shop. He didn't just look like an airhead. He was an airhead.

And yet, despite being such an infuriating presence, this airhead was still co-top employee. Tying with Katsuki, of all people.

Why?

Need he repeat that again? Okay. Why?

Once, he'd let a thought cross his mind: that maybe it was something to do with his own dismissive, cold attitude towards the customers. His eye-rolling. And possibly, his sass. Yes, he might be an extremely hard worker, but all his other characteristics still made him no more popular with everyone that came in than it did with the rest of the staff. Meanwhile, Deku worked just one shift, but kept everyone happy. He was always asking about someone's family, laughing at someone's joke, talking animatedly about some nerd film he'd just seen with someone he'd just met. No wonder everyone liked him. Everyone but Katsuki, of course.

That didn't make him any less of an airhead though. Especially since recently, he'd been messing up a hell of a lot more than normal. Misinterpreting the last couple of orders, spilling the last three drinks and even mixing up the ones he'd corrected. The owner of the coffee shop had let it slide for now, but Katsuki sure as hell was at the end of his rope.

After watching Izuku apologise profusely to the sixth customer this week, he can't help but clench his fist tighter on his tray. This was beyond pathetic. How can he consider this guy his rival anymore when he suddenly has the memory span and coordination of a fucking goldfish floundering in mud?

Especially since he knows the exact fucking cause of it all.

Todoroki Shouto.

Like Katsuki always says, he can tell exactly what's going on in Deku's head.

Every morning shift, Deku greets him cheerfully and stretches before putting on his apron. Katsuki routinely grunts in response and tosses his own on haphazardly.

Then they take their places, Deku behind the counter, and Katsuki by the machines, with his mop on hand in case he had to dash out to clean up spillages, and his notepad tucked in his apron for food orders thought up halfway through a drink. Deku had asked him before if he should take up either task to lighten the burden, but Katsuki, being a dick, had just told him to stand nice and pretty behind the counter or he'd glue his ass to it.

Let it be said that Katsuki had no sympathy. He was well aware of it. The more he had to do, the better. There was nothing Bakugou Katsuki couldn't handle, and if Deku ever abandoned this job, he'd do just fine filling in this entire shift all by himself.

So that's where Deku stands every morning, lest Katsuki eye him with malicious intent whenever he leaves his post.

And that's where this entire problem started.

See, Deku does this thing. This thing that's so painfully mushy it physically hurts Katsuki. Every day. If he likes a customer, for some reason or other, he writes their name on the cup with a little more bounce to it. Makes it a little more cursive, Katsuki doesn't know how to describe it. He just.. knows.

There's not even any smiley face, no heart or anything. It's kind of dumb, because it's not like Katsuki's going to stop him if he writes his number on the bottom of the cup or something. If he'd even make a fucking move or something on these guys he thought were cute, Katsuki would've been fucking grateful, because at least it would show he wasn't a coward at least.

But nada. Zip. Zilch. This is how it goes: hot guy walks in; Deku dreamily doodles his name and nothing else; Deku hands the cup over to Katsuki with the order; Katsuki sees the obvious lack of a phone number and makes the order as angrily as possible; hot guy gets his order and nothing else, and leaves.

And the cycle repeats.

Katsuki has contemplated numerous times just getting Deku's number so he can pass it on to one of these fuckers, for no other reason than getting him to actually stop daydreaming at the counter and get back to his job once his love life is finally in motion. But he's pretty sure that's against the café rules or some shit like that.

And so he's perfectly fine (read: not fine at all) with seeing this occur every day. Every day for a year.

Truthfully, Katsuki would have been much less bothered had he only noticed it from time to time, but his hyperactive brain wasn't having it. Since a month into his job when he'd noticed this strange occurrence, he's become unwillingly more and more acute to reading Deku's handwriting and matching it with what he liked about the newest guy.

A flourished first letter. Okay, so he fell in love with the fucker's eyes right off the bat, Katsuki thinks hopelessly, making the hot chocolate. What kind of Josh even likes hot chocolate anyway? He shudders as he rings up the order.

A tail-end flick right at the end of the name. Okay, so it was the smile that made the lasting impression on the nerd. Katsuki knows this because every single 'tail-end flick' asshole that walks in smiles again at Deku as they walk out, and he watches as the guy practically melts at the counter. Fucking hopeless.

Katsuki wants to tell him one of these days to stop the goddamn pity party, get the fuck out from behind the counter (yes, for once, he's permitting it, but only for this sole reason) and talk to one of his puppy crushes before Katsuki implodes with frustration.

Then one day, he arrives.

Todoroki Shouto.

He gives Deku his full name with a deadpan expression, which is mistake number 1. It's like he's never been in a café before. Then, he leaves the café while Katsuki makes his order. What the ever-loving fuck? At this point, Katsuki wouldn't be surprised if he lost his way and couldn't find his way back to get his fucking... what the hell was this combination... a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato? He didn't even know they sold shit like that. Half sweet? How the hell do you even make something half sweet? Fuck, guess he had to check the manual for once.

As Katsuki mixes his drink, he does his routinely scan over Deku's handwriting and-

Jesus Christ.

There's fucking flourishes all over the place, tail-end flick be damned. He even dotted the fucking i on 'Todoroki', for God's sake.

He looks up in annoyance at the barista at the other end of the counter, who's still lost in his daydream. Even when he slams his palm hard on the counter to jolt him back into reality, he doesn't stir. Damn it. This could be the worst one yet.

Finally, Shouto walks back into the café, letting a small smile grace his features as he picks up the drink thankfully from Katsuki, who sneers at him in return. His half-red, half-white fringe falls a little over his eyes as he turns back to Deku to thank him.

Deku startles back into action, spouting out pointless phrases like 'it's no problem' and 'please come again'.

When Shouto finally leaves, Katsuki rolls his eyes. So physical violence as motivation wouldn't work, but a little smile from some polite as fuck, airheaded half and half bastard did? Tsk.

They were both airheads. They could have each other.

And as the weeks go by and Deku continues to fuck up at his job every time Shouto rolled up to the café early in the morning, Katsuki starts to formulate a plan.

Because if dumbass Deku wasn't going to get himself a boyfriend, and this guy kept ruining Katsuki's life, then dammit, Katsuki was gonna get one for him.

Fuck the café rules.

Chapter Text

The next time Katsuki sees Shouto stroll into the shop, he decides to put his plan in motion. At least, that's what he says to himself, but in reality, there is no plan. All he's come up with so far is 'talk to the damn fucker'. And that sounds pretty good for now.

The half and half bastard makes the dreaded order that Katsuki pretty much knows off by heart by now. And he fucking hates it. He hates that his mind has memorised that stupid half-sweet caramel macchiato bullshit he drinks every Wednesday morning. It's not like it adds any value to his life.

He especially hates that Deku always seems to perk up when Shouto walks in, even though his voice shakes with nerves when his gaze alights on the other man. The only thing steady about him is his hand, which writes the name 'Todoroki' as flourished as always.

He takes the cup from Deku, resisting the urge to smack him round the back of the head with it.

After Katsuki finally makes the drink, instead of ringing it up and calling Shouto's name, (because the bastard finally realised he was meant to wait inside the shop for it) he tells Deku to cover the counter for him, and walks out onto the café floor.

He can practically feel the waves of panic radiating off the freckled man as he walks straight towards the human embodiment of the Malta flag. This is what fucking happens when you don't make a move earlier, dipshit, he thinks smugly, enjoying his coworker's squirming.

Plopping down the drink on Shouto's little round table, he knocks on the glass to grab his attention.

Shouto, a little surprised by the sound, looks up from the newspaper just in time to see the ash blond towering over him.

"If you haven't noticed," Katsuki starts, and he scoffs at this, "and I have no idea how you wouldn't because it's so fucking obvious, little loverboy behind the counter there is so painfully in love with you it's actually starting to give me a migraine, so can you both, like, fuck or something? Just give me your number. I'll make him call you."

Nailed it.

From somewhere behind him, he can practically hear Deku's soul leave his body as he watches them talk, although he’s pretty sure he can’t actually hear them. And that, dear readers, is what Katsuki fucking lives for.

The man's pretty heterochromatic eyes flutter as he blinks, almost as if trying to process everything Katsuki had just said. Yeah, it couldn't have been easy: going from complete silence to a secondhand confession in the span of ten seconds. Plus, Katsuki had thrown a swear in there, because, oh right, he doesn't have a filter.

"Oh, I- Are you sure?" he says finally, and Katsuki remembers he was dealing with two airheads. What did he really expect? "I wouldn't say he-"

The barista cuts him off. "Jesus Christ, you really are as oblivious as you look. Yes, he likes you. With the way he wrote your name on your cup, it's pretty much the opposite of subtle."

Shouto looks puzzled, but like, a soft, cute kind of puzzled that makes Katsuki enraged. He lifts up his caramel macchiato and inspects it, probably looking for a smiley face or a heart or something. Yeah, that's nowhere to be found, but surely he got where the blond was coming from. Katsuki waits expectantly for his response.

"Um, I'm sorry..."

"Bakugou," Katsuki offers gruffly.

"..Bakugou," Shouto continues, "but it honestly looks like any other handwriting to me."

Katsuki resists the urge to throttle Pretty Boy's neck.

"I've been working here too damn long," he mutters under his breath. Then, louder, he adds, "Sir, just talk to him, goddamnit. It'll make my life a whole lot easier."

The turtleneck-wearing man smiles all of a sudden, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, so you're friends?"

Katsuki practically chokes on the air he's breathing. "Wh- Friends? What the fuck? We're rivals, okay? Rivals. I hate that dipshit."

"Do you treat all your customers like this, Bakugou?" Shouto asks delicately then, far too delicately for Katsuki's fragile patience. Is he on fucking sleeping pills or something to look that serene? "I mean, just adding 'sir' before everything doesn't necessarily make it any more polite."

As if anything about Katsuki screams manners. He throws on the winged eyeliner and piercings to ward off pretentious art bastards, not attract them, for Chrissake.

But a wicked grin comes down on the blond's face. "You've already paid, sir, and anyway, I would say, since you've been coming here every week for what- like two months, you're addicted to that bullshit caramel macchiato I didn't even know we made. So it's not like my crappy customer service is gonna stop you coming, since I'm the one that makes the drink in the first place."

"Ah," the man says, uncrossing his legs and lifting a hand to his cheek as if to stop it from colouring. So he did realise how pretentious it sounded. Maybe he wasn't completely oblivious after all. "My sister told me that combination was especially good here. Of course, she only comes late at night since her work schedule fills up the rest of her day. So I decided to take her recommendation."

The late night shift? Damn whoever took that shift for making a half sweet whatever the hell the drink was so good that now Katsuki was cursed with the task of making it every week too. Fucking Todoroki siblings. If she started ordering some soy gluten-free organic muffin with raisins or something and recommended that to her brother, Katsuki was going to fucking resign from the early morning shift.

The barista huffs. "Look, bottom line is, you're here every Wednesday morning. Deku here is on duty every morning. Not that I'm rushing you, but I am, because with every passing day that you sit in this same spot reading that damn newspaper with that annoyingly blissful expression on your face, that dumbass Deku makes my life harder."

Shouto knits his eyebrows together ever so beautifully. "How so?"

"Messing up the orders, spilling shit everywhere. Ugh, I don't have time for this. Just talk to the damn guy so he stops annoying me with that lovesick handwriting. I don't need to know every time he finds someone hot."

"I'm... still not getting where you're coming from with the cup handwriting thing... but I'll talk to him." Shouto smiles softly.

Katsuki's gaze flickers up to Shouto to bask in a mission success, before he looks away instantly, annoyed at the androgynous man. He stirs up all kinds of anger in him that he isn't interested in delving into at the moment.

"Then, good," he says finally, smirking as he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to the counter. He gives a half-wave without turning around.

"Enjoy your shitty macchiato or whatever."

*

From behind the counter, Deku must have a fucking death wish, because he actually has the audacity to pull at Katsuki's sleeve. Softly at first, then harder. Eventually, Katsuki grits his teeth, turns from his post and grabs him by the shoulders, pinning him to the wall behind them. It shudders with the impact. Deku looks up at him with wide eyes, his hair a tousled mess as always.

A couple others in the café squeal at this. Someone does a spit take. Fucking fantastic. Guess who has to mop that up later?

"What? What do you want?" Katsuki asks, sneering, without really wanting a response. Deku doesn't answer for several seconds.

"Talk, dumbass Deku," he says, a little more authoritatively, slamming his back against the wall again, and the other male snaps out of it.

His sneer slides right off his face, like pizza off a wall. Shit, Deku looked mad.

"Why did you do that?" the shorter man asks, barely veiling his anger, and Katsuki actually takes his hands off of him. Not because he's scared. But in his mind, Deku had always been the smiley ray of sunshine that made everyone happy. Now though, he was the human manifestation of a thunderstorm. Dark, brooding.

Katsuki tries to play dumb. "Do what? You were annoying me, dipshit. If I shoved you, it's because you deserved-"

"Not that," Deku says, his tone dangerous, and Katsuki starts to think maybe he doesn't know everything about the inside of his mind after all. He only knows his dreamy state in the early mornings, his lovesick side, his customer service attitude and that towards the rest of the staff.

But this. Holy shit.

This was something he'd never seen before.

This was a fucking turn-on.

Unaware of Katsuki's thoughts, Deku plows on. "Look, I know we don't talk that much, but what the hell was that with.. with Todoroki?" He suddenly trails off shyly while saying the name, as if unused to saying it. Which made sense, after all. They'd never talked about this kind of thing. Hell, they barely talked at all.

Yes, Deku had tried to talk to Katsuki in the past, but Katsuki had always ignored him. When it got too dire he'd even resort to somewhat manhandling him. Not to the point where he could get fired, but just enough so the other man would back off and let him work in peace. Where the green-haired male might be a social butterfly or some shit, Katsuki much preferred his own company. Eventually, Deku had realised that, and they'd found a little balance in morning greetings and letting each other know when they were on break. That was pretty much it.

Never had Katsuki told him he knew about all his little crushes. Never had he known exactly how defensive he'd get at the prospect of Katsuki potentially making a move on one of them. Till now.

"Well, you like him, don't you?" Katsuki grits out, not looking at Deku anymore.

And at this, the thunderstorm dissipates slightly. "..Y-Yes, but- but I've never told that to anyone. If you knew that, why were you..? I just thought you were just hitting on-"

The blond scoffs in disbelief. "Deku, you're the most obvious piece of shit I've ever met in my life. You can't conceal a crush to save your life. And no, I was not hitting on the half and half bastard."

"But.. how did you know?"

Katsuki thinks about telling him about his stupidly ostentatious handwriting, then remembers Shouto's words. It honestly looks like any other handwriting to me... He sighs instead. "I just do, okay?"

Deku looks like he doesn't believe him.

"Alright then, dipshit. You want proof? I'll give you proof. Remember Josh?"

"..We've had more than a couple of Joshes," the broccoli head points out.

Katsuki feels a vein throbbing in his forehead.

"Josh from two months and a half ago. Ordered a hot chocolate. Was wearing an Adventure Time hat. And some stupid ass high tops or something. You liked his eyes, didn't you?"

Deku blinks for a second. Then twice. Then his cheeks start to colour a dark shade of pink. Ah, there's the nerd he knows.

"You-," he starts helplessly, and Katsuki just grins. He knew he was right. "How did you know that? He had the prettiest eyes and- ohmygod." The freckled man lowers his voice, his eyes sparkling all of a sudden. "Are you a mindreader?"

Katsuki just about barely holds back a laugh, but a smile quirks up the corner of his lips nonetheless. Traitor mouth. It's just cuz he's acting so dumb is all. He's so stupidly dumb it's entertaining. Not really sure how else to show this, he hits the back of Deku's head. Not too hard, but just hard enough to matter.

"No, dumbass Deku. I can't read minds. Like I said, you're just obvious as hell."

Deku stands back upright, rubbing the back of his head. An expression of concentration is deeply etched onto his features, like he was trying to figure something out.

But Katsuki doesn't have fucking time for this right now. Customers are starting to queue up at the till, and unless Deku gets back to his post and flashes that blinding smile of his, they weren't going to stay for long. Because as annoying as it is to admit, it's not like they'd come here every so often if the first thing that greeted them was Katsuki's resting bitch face.

"Fuck. We'll talk more about this later. People are waiting to order," he says, jolting the boy back out of his muttering.

Deku looks pleasantly surprised at this, and even a little hopeful. "We'll.. talk?"

He half-rolls his eyes in a way that answers the nerd's question and pushes him towards the till. As he walks back to his own station, a little distance away, he starts frothing up the milk.

Of course they needed to fucking talk if he was somehow going to get him and Shouto to actually date. Oh. Speaking of. While Deku passes him a new cup with an order, he says, "By the way, that newest crush of yours, Todoroki or whatever - I told him to talk to you, and he said he would."

The barista's jaw drops a little. "You-"

"-So don't fuck it up, buttercup," Katsuki insists with a menacing tone, staring him down.

Deku yelps out a 'yessir!' and gets back to work.

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku has no idea what's going on in Bakugou Katsuki's head.

And he's been trying to figure him out, but the man's just an enigma, Izuku thinks as he watches him mop up another spill on the café floor from behind the counter.

A smile of satisfaction flutters briefly to the blond's face when the surface looks clean again, and when he looks up to see someone calling for him, he whips out his notepad, striding over to the raised hand. He's always composed, never frantically rushing, but composed with a kind of underlying frustration that Izuku likens to a ticking time bomb.

The barista eyes him while cheerfully ringing up their newest customer.

It's been a year or so since he's been trying on and off to get Katsuki to talk to him.

Like, actually talk to him. Not silence, nor grunts, nor swears, nor getting into arguments that Izuku would usually let him win. A pleasant conversation. Because on good days, Katsuki just got snarky and somehow shut him down. And on bad days, things just ended in a raised voice and Izuku backing off with a hopeless sigh. At least more recently they'd ended up having a relatively okay balance between silence and greetings.

It's just that they were coworkers, after all. He just thought it would be nice if they could be on friendly speaking terms ...or something like that.

But instead, Izuku just stands behind the till all morning while the other barista rotates between working next to him a safe distance away (for both of them) and going out onto the café floor.

He's not sure why Katsuki needs to work so much. He knows the man takes all the shifts that are busy, so perhaps the only reason he still keeps this one is so he gets out of his house early in the day, as a form of discipline. That's just a guess though. Izuku knows next to nothing about Katsuki.

As the blond steps back behind the counter again to make the queued-up order, his sharp eyes slide over to Izuku.

"The fuck you lookin' at, Deku?" he growls.

The green-haired man's eyes go wide, and he shakes his head frantically to indicate not wanting to start trouble, before scrambling to take the next person's order.

Deku.

Despite its horrible meaning, Izuku had actually reached the point where he was so starved for his coworker's acknowledgement that he'd completely accepted it as a kind of term of endearment.

Pathetic? Yeah, that sounded about right.

And it's not like Izuku didn't introduce himself the first day on the job. The spiky-haired barista just hadn't decided it was important enough to acknowledge in the end, only supplying him with a curt response. Barely even letting him know that he'd heard him.

In any case, the only reason really why it bothered him so much was because his mother had always told him to maintain a good work ethic, and that involved making connections with the people he worked with. Aside from Katsuki, he actually managed to get to know all his other coworkers, despite not even sharing their shifts. Over time, he got to know their birthdays, their families, their favourite movies, their plans for the week etc.

Compared to Katsuki, everyone else was an open book.

He wondered once, when he'd strolled back into the café off-duty to visit a colleague (now a friend), whether the sharp-tongued blond even knew the others' names - but then the familiar exasperated expressions came over their features, and he knew at once that Katsuki had not, in fact, decided to remember them either.

Doesn't it get lonely not caring about anyone else?

It had been about three months into their jobs before Katsuki had even bothered to look at his name tag.

Izuku would like to say he'd been working hard that morning, but in reality, he was up at the till as usual. That was okay though, because surrounded by the safe walls of the counter, he kind of felt like royalty up in their tower, looking out on the view outside. Except instead of rolling clouds, grassy knolls, castles and dragons, it was just a pretty, pink sunrise, brought about with the occasional runner or two outside.

Colours shifted and took flight to the sky, and Izuku sighed wistfully, chin in the palm of his hand. Early mornings really did make him feel glad to be alive.

Then a loud bang shook him to his core, and he lurched up into standing position in an instant. Outside, a drunkard had just walked into their floor-to-ceiling windows, still holding a bottle in their hand. Frozen in place, Izuku watched as their hand left smudge marks on the glass before pushing the door and stumbling inside, their movements and unsteady.

As soon as they got in, they promptly fell to the café floor and started snoring.

Wha-? Who even stayed out drunk until this time?

Unsure what to think, Izuku rushed out from behind his till and stood over the body, hand motions frantic.

"Um.. ah.." He ended up picking up the bottle that had rolled away, placing it on one of the tables nearby.

The curly-haired man's eyes flicked up to Katsuki, who had leaned his mop against the wall and was now staring out at the smudge marks.

His brows were knitted in frustration. "Are you fucking kidding me? Who the fuck does this motherfucker think he is- fucking putting handprints all over my fucking glass, the shit turd. God, when he wakes up, I'm gonna fucking murder-"

"-Bakugou!" Izuku chastised, despite knowing the risk he was taking. "We have a body here, and you're more concerned about the glass?"

"God, 's not like he's fucking dead, jackass," Katsuki replied, rolling his eyes.

He strode over, hands in his uniform pockets, before boredly kicking the figure. The not-corpse grunted out a subconscious moan of pain.

"See? Alive. Now just fucking throw some water in his face and get him outta here, before I cut his hands off for touching my windows."

Izuku gave up, squatting at last next to the heavyset stranger. He tried to lift them up, but to no avail. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

The temperamental blond turned from the window, looking at him now. A snide grin sliced up his face as he watched the slender, freckled man struggle.

"Whatsa matter? Can't even roll him over?"

Izuku puffed out a cheek defiantly. Grr... Katsuki was always talking about all the things he couldn't do.

"Yes, I can!" he insisted. "Just- just watch me."

And after a minute of pushing, (involving the skidding of his sneakers against the café floor to gain traction) he finally managed to shove his weight into the figure and turn them over so their stomach faced up.

Izuku heaved a breath. Oh God, nope. Nope. Dragging this person anywhere was going to be a nightmare.

Katsuki shook his head in mock pity.

"You know, I wasn't gonna help, but it's honestly pretty fucking pathetic just watching you. Move."

With that, the blond pushed up his sleeves to his elbows, and hefted up the drunk, supporting them fully.

Izuku watched his muscles flex in awe for a moment, before Katsuki caught his gaze again with a sneer.

"Don't just sit there staring, fucknuckle. Open the back door, for fuck's sake. We can't just let other customers see him passed out like that."

"R-Right!"

Izuku scrambled to his feet in an instant, rushing over to the counter to open the back door for Katsuki.

As the taller coworker passed by him, still supporting the drunkard, he muttered, "God, you really are useless, Deku."

Deku? he remembers thinking.

He'd even blanked for a few moments, before turning to clarify with Katsuki that he did, in fact, know his name.

The reply he got wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it did let him know the blond had spared a moment to drop his gaze to his name tag, enough to purposely mess up his name.

So at least there was that.

*

Izuku has an overactive imagination. He knows this. He's not perfect. He's prone to going off in a daydream whenever the café slips into a lull. But it does help him deal with standing behind the counter (like Katsuki demands) every morning, stretching every once in a while. 

It isn't hard to drift into a daze though, especially when he could drown in the eyes of the customer who's just walked in to order a caramel macchiato and a sandwich.

The bluest blue of eyes, he thinks as he scrawls their name neatly across a cup.

Already, he's humming to himself, thinking of different aspects of nature that could match up to that exact shade of blue. Satisfied, he turns it over to Katsuki, and his coworker glances over the cup for a moment, looking somewhat frustrated, before making the order.

Izuku's long since given up trying to figure him out, so just keeps humming until the customer returns to take their order, waving at him politely at the door for some reason. Could it be they liked him too?

Nah. Izuku doesn't even entertain the thought for one second.

He's just the awkward yet polite barista. Who is he but the guy who helps others get their morning fix? He'd be forgotten amongst the sea of other faces they'd encounter throughout that day. All he does is do his job and smile.

The green-haired man can't help but sigh in longing though, chin in his palms as Pretty Blue Eyes leaves the café. The memory of that smile still lingers in his mind a few moments after they've left. So yes, it's little things like this that make up for having to deal with Katsuki morning after morning.

That is, until the day Todoroki Shouto walks in.

*

When Todoroki Shouto walked in, Izuku had been in the middle of exchanging pleasantries with the customer currently at the front of the queue. But upon seeing the newcomer, his voice stalled instantly in his throat.

He hadn't meant to leave the conversation hanging; it just sort of happened. His eyes were at once transfixed by the half cherry-red half snow-white hair, and that was already wild enough.

And then his gaze dipped to the customer's face.

Wow.

Soft, expectant eyes, looking all around the café in wonder. A lilting, hidden smile settled in the corner of their lips as the door shut behind them with the slight tinkling of bells.

The breeze that sailed in at the last minute tousled their hair a little more, slipping over their heterochromatic eyes for a moment. They pushed their fringe out of their eyes mindlessly.

Izuku was lost for words by that simple motion.

The customer in front of him asked if he was alright, and he instantly snapped out of it, apologising and taking their order. Oh, great. He could feel his fingers getting sweatier as he rung up each person in the queue, until the last one stepped up in front of him.

Goddamn.

Okay. Wow. Izuku was not used to having someone this pretty standing this close to him. He was only centimetres away from those riveting eyes, the cool glacier-blue and the dusty ash-grey, and they were looking right at him now.

They greeted him, and he returned the polite exchange a little too frantically. He cringed at himself. Keep it together, Izuku, he told himself, trying to gather his marbles that were very quickly slipping away.

Usually whenever he got too awkward around a customer, he tried to remind himself he might never see that person again. Of course, there was the very real alternative that they might become a regular. Right now, he was already completely torn.

Did he want to see this newcomer again, or did his heart want to use his organs as a blanket to scream into and hide under? Preferably forever?

He didn't know yet.

The customer then calmly ordered a drink he'd never personally heard before, but he didn't question it. He just took it down dutifully and hoped Katsuki would know what it was.

Izuku hadn't been excited to learn a name in a long time.

"Thanks for ordering! So um- before paying, what name should we put down for you?" the freckled man asked, lifting his pen to a fresh cup perhaps a little too eagerly. This stranger didn't look like the prankster type, so maybe he'd actually get a real name.

"It's Todoroki Shouto," they answered then. A full name? 

Next to him, Katsuki snorted.

In any case... Shouto, he thought victoriously. Even that's a pretty name.

"Oh, okay! Cool," he said instead, penning the name and handing it off with the order to Katsuki without really looking.

As he rung Shouto up, he couldn't help but ask, "So- and I hope this is okay, but what are your um- pronouns?"

"Pronouns?" they repeated, tipping their head to the side.

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck as they handed him the money. "I mean, like, you know-"

Shouto laughed, the sound making Izuku's breath catch. "-Oh, I know what it means, don't worry. Sorry, it's just that no one's ever asked me that before. They always just assume one or the other. And rarely neither."

The heterochromatic-eyed customer looked at him a little more attentively now, and to be honest, Izuku wasn't exactly sure what to do with all that attention.

"Um, right," he squeaked out in the end, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he rustled through the cash register. "Well, uh- I just like to make it a habit to keep my greetings gender-neutral... just in case."

"So you ask all your customers this?"

Izuku handed the stranger their change, wincing. "Not everyone! Just... some people. Sometimes. When it feels like it would help my interaction, I guess?"

Shouto made a humming noise. "Well, that's actually really considerate of you. Thank you."

Izuku's eyes widened at the show of thanks. "It's no- no problem! No problem at all," he responded, hands flailing.

"I use he/him pronouns by the way, if that helps," Shouto added, that smile appearing again ever so softly and wow, Izuku could stare at him forever.

Suddenly, an elbow dug into his arm roughly, making him look at Katsuki. The taller blond's eyebrows were furrowed in frustration as he muttered the order under his breath.

"The hell? Deku, I don't know jackshit about how to make this order. Did you write it right? Does it even fucking exist? Because I swear to God, if it doesn't..."

Izuku glanced at Shouto apologetically, before turning to his coworker. "Um... it should. Check the manual or something, maybe?"

Katsuki gave him a flat look, then sighed. "Fucking fine, but tell Candy Cane there the order isn't gonna be instant, even if I'm the one making it."

"You can't tell him yourself?"

"Nope, can't be assed," the blond said, still looking at the written order as he headed off into the back room.

Well, at least the name means he actually noticed his hair earlier.

The remaining barista smiled sheepishly. "Ah, I'm sorry about him. He's uh, he's just like that." He tried for a weak laugh, which came out a little strained-sounding. God, he's a mess.

"That's alright," Shouto said, expression fond. "I'll be back in a while. Take your time."

And with that, the bi-colour-haired man turned, waving at Izuku once before leaving the café.

When Katsuki returned a few minutes later, he was mumbling something about full names and 'dumbfuck airheads that didn't even stay in the shop to fucking wait for their order' and someone needed to do something etc, and that was about when Izuku subconsciously decided to block the rest out.

Instead, he just leaned over the counter with crossed arms, thinking about Shouto's eyes again. The sweet timbre of his voice and laugh had already begun haunting him, and to be honest, he wasn't completely against it at all.

Luckily, the strange macchiato turned out to exceed Shouto's expectations in the end, and he returned every Wednesday from then on. For Izuku, this was heaven and hell. Seeing Shouto came with consequences he couldn't entirely control. A lot more daydreaming, and perhaps a few more spillages than he was used to.

It wasn't until a few weeks later when Katsuki had confronted the guy about asking Izuku out, that he realised he should probably have listened to the blond's entire thought process when he'd said it aloud.

And now he's supposed to have a conversation with the angsty blond barista he's been working alongside for a year.

He's excited and petrified.

*

"Deku," Katsuki calls, sounding bored and distracted. "Come out back after my last shift."

Izuku blinks, still a little surprised that Katsuki was keeping his promise for a one-on-one talk with him.

"O-Okay?"

The ash-blond finishes scribbling something on his notepad, placing his pencil behind his ear. "You know what time that is, don'tcha?"

The freckled man nods. "Before Yaoyorozu gets on duty, right?"

"Who?"

The blank and slightly annoyed expression on Katsuki's face is priceless.

Izuku sighs. "Never mind. Um, the late evening shift, right?"

"That's the bitch."

"Then, okay. I guess I'll see you then!"

Despite himself, he can't help but let his voice trail into an excited squeal. Could it be that they'd actually have a decent conversation for once? 

At least, that was the plan.

Katsuki gives him a strange look, before brushing him off. "Whatever."

*

For them, 'out back' meant the steps on which some of the other coworkers liked to smoke on during their breaks.

Already on the steps, Katsuki braves the cold in a plain black shirt, tight enough that the hem of it doesn't even ripple in the wind. Slung over one shoulder is a backpack. Honestly, Izuku doesn't understand how this guy doesn't get sick. It's like his immune system is made of steel.

On the other end, the green-haired man pulls his grey scarf a little tighter around his neck, bringing his coat a little farther in. It was definitely getting colder.

Izuku leaves his hands in his pockets as he steps closer to the male. He bites his lip for a second, wondering if he should maybe make a noise.

But then Katsuki turns his head and notices him, saving him the trouble.

The blond stands up then, crossing his arms.

"Uh, hi," Izuku starts, fiddling with the ends of his scarf nervously. His mind is swirling with so many thoughts right now, all waiting to burst out of him. But he's been keeping it contained for the last few hours, waiting for Katsuki to finish all his shifts.

The other barista doesn't even bother returning the greeting.

"Alright, so here's the deal." he says gruffly. "When Candy Cane talks to you, I dunno, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, fucking push for it. Don't pussy out. Ask him out. Start dating him or some shit. I know he likes you so don't you dare fuck it up, or I'll have to actually talk to the bastard again. Can you fucking do that?"

Izuku blinks. He wasn't expecting Katsuki to jump straight in to talking about Shouto. He thought they'd maybe build up to it, talk about work for a bit, maybe laugh about the customer who'd forgotten their whole anniversary present in the shop for a few hours before dashing back breathlessly and picking it up last minute.

But of course not. This was Bakugou Katsuki, after all. He rarely ever beat around the bush.

"I mean, maybe," he answers. He's not sure if he can be that confident, especially around someone as pretty as Shouto. And he doesn't understand why Katsuki's even getting involved.

"What? You don't wanna date him?"

Izuku reiterates, a little panicky, "No! No, it's not that! I'd love to see him again and well... get to know him better." Then he relents. "It's just... Bakugou, we barely even know each other outside of work. Why are you helping me out? You've never been interested in any other coworker's life before."

Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, and the freckled man backtracks, laughing nervously. "I mean, I think! I haven't been paying that much attention to you, so I wouldn't know the details."

Getting frustrated, he tries to get his point across. "The point is- you don't care about others that much, do you? And suddenly you're taking the reins on my love life? Why?"

And that throws the blond off for a second. His grip tightens on his backpack strap, and he runs a hand through his hair in exhaustion.

"Because... because Deku, you keep being such a Deku. I don't know if you've noticed, but you're a mess at work, and I thought maybe if you actually asked out one of these airheads, you'd stop fucking dropping shit in the shop all the damn time. It's pissing me off. You've been so damn distracted by that Half and Half, I had no choice. So you're fucking welcome."

Oh.

Honestly, fair enough. That made sense. Izuku's gotten the impression their manager had been meaning to talk to him about that, but had given him the benefit of the doubt in the end. Despite how crass Katsuki's wording is, maybe he did need this push to talk to someone, not just stand and watch pretty people walk in and out day after day.

He never knew he'd actually feel thankful to Katsuki like this.

The blond drawls, "I mean, who knows how much you're gonna fuck this up? So unless you want me to stop helping-"

Izuku cuts in, "-No! Uh- thank you.Your help is really, really appreciated. Thanks for talking to Todoroki for me."

"That's what I thought," Katsuki says, smirking. Then he looks up at the sky and steps off the last stair, sharp eyes skimming over the horizon. "'S getting dark. Guess that's the end of the conversation."

"W-Wait!" Izuku calls out, just as his coworker's turned, ready to walk off in the opposite direction to Izuku.

"Hah?"

Green eyes meet red. "Um, can we exchange numbers?"

"Why."

"Be- Because I might need advice? I really don't wanna mess this up, and um..." And this could be the start of a good friendship maybe? Or is that too optimistic?

Katsuki actually mulls the thought over, body still half-turned. After a long moment, he groans.

"Fine. But don't send me unnecessary texts, or I'll break your fingers. Got it?"

Ignoring the threat, Izuku nods enthusiastically, rustling through his pockets for his phone. He gets up the New Contact page, before handing it over to his colleague, trying not to betray how much he's resisting the urge to break into song.

A chance to talk to Shouto from not behind a counter, and text Katsuki from the comfort of his bed?

Today was officially the best day of his life.

A few taps later, Katsuki slaps the phone back into his hand, a little harder than needed. He looks down at the number in disbelief.

There it was. Bakugou Katsuki's number. Right there. On his phone.

He could almost die happy right now.

"We done now?" is all Katsuki says, sounding impatient.

Izuku gives him a blinding smile. "Yup! Have a good night, Bakugou! And keep your fingers crossed for me."

The ash-blond narrows his eyes, as if even looking at him hurts. He turns away.

"You're such a nerd," he says as he leaves with a shake of the head.

Well, it's a start at least, Izuku thinks, humming happily as he tucks his phone away and turns away himself, ready to go home.