Chapter Text
Even though he’d never ever admit it, Katsuki Bakugou fell in love for the first time at the ripe age of six years old. He’d been knee deep in itchy grass and deafened by cicada cries when Izuku Midoriya waddled up to him. He had short legs and scabbed knees, but also the biggest smile Bakugou’d ever seen.
He held out a dandelion in a dimpled, pudgy hand and asked, “Marry me, Kacchan?”
Bakugou squished the dandelion in his fist. “Marriage is for losers, Deku!”
Izuku’s mouth pinched into a frown, his lower lip wobbling. Bakugou’s heart crawled up into his throat: he expected Izuku to cry because he’d always been a crybaby. But Izuku just blinked once and then twice. He looked back up at Bakugou and smiled. Bakugou’s heart flip-flopped— he worried he’d puke all over the grass and the damn dandelion.
“That’s okay! We can still be a pack.”
“Ha! Who’d wanna be in a pack with a nerd?”
...but he forgot to say no.
If the first time had been like a hurricane, the second was like the slow rise of the tide. He only realized he couldn’t get back to shore when he was in way too deep.
It started when he saw Shouto Todoroki in the middle of the dorm kitchen with a colander full of mushy soba noodles.
“Yo, Half-n-half, who the fuck can’t boil soba?”
“Oh. Bakugou.”
“Tsk. Let me do it.”
Bakugou pulled down more noodles and set the pan up to boil on the stove. He hated bland, uninteresting cold soba. He didn’t even think about why he did it, until he passed Todoroki the finished soba and got a small smile for his efforts.
If Izuku’s smile was like the sun, bright and freely given, Todoroki’s was a lunar eclipse— the sort of thing he could blink and miss or wait a whole lifetime for.
Bakugou’s stomach roiled.
Shit.
Katsuki Bakugou was an expert at not caring about unimportant shit. He mentally filed his crushes Deku and Half-n-half right next to the extras in their class and losing: shit he’d never ever think about again.
Then he got to class and saw Todoroki standing next to Izuku’s desk— leaning up into his space and whispering in his ear. A loud whooshing pounded against Bakugou’s temples. Izuku rolled up his sleeves, showing the pale, scarred skin of his forearm. If Bakugou pressed a finger against his wrist, he bet his pulse would be racing. Todoroki’s throat bobbed and Bakugou could see a sliver of his collarbone when his neck craned closer.
Bakugou chucked his bag down hard enough to rattle his desk. They backed up from each other so fast it made his head spin. Izuku’s entire face flushed bright red.
“Bakugou,” Todoroki said as a way of greeting.
“Yo, get back to your own fucking desk.”
“Bye, Todoroki!”
Bakugou wanted to hit that dreamy, coy little smile off Izuku’s mouth. He also contemplated kissing it off, which... was not unappealing. His heart crawled up into his throat, left his mouth tasting dry and sour. Bakugou slammed down into his seat before he ended up popping a boner in front of the whole class or something equally embarrassing.
Damn.
Bakugou groaned and squinted at the clock. Aizawa was already five minutes late. He drummed his fingers against the desk. His skin felt too warm. Someone should crank up the goddamn AC. Bakugou slumped down further in his chair. Something small and hard bounced off the back of his head.
“The fuck...?”
Bakugou twisted around in his seat. He saw a wad of crumpled paper next to his chair leg. Izuku leaned over from the desk behind him. Bakugou swatted at his hand and swiped up the paper.
“Kacchan?” Izuku tapped his shoulder.
Bakugou smoothed out the ball. Izuku craned over his shoulder, close enough his breath brushed against Bakugou’s cheek. The handwriting looked slanted and cramped on the wrinkled paper:
Midoriya,
Meet me outside after class
T.
Bakugou almost laughed, a sound he choked back at the last moment. He looked over his shoulder. Todoroki looked awfully demure with his hands folded one over the other— like he hadn’t just thrown a note to Izuku like an elementary schooler. Bakugou’s mouth spread into a wide grin.
“Yo, Half-n-half.”
“Mmhmm.”
The corner of Bakugou’s mouth ached from how hard he smiled. Izuku turned a bright pink and looked like he might puke or faint in equal measure. Todoroki’s expression didn’t budge: expressionless with dark, guarded eyes.
“You and the nerd got plans?”
“Would you want to come if we did?”
“You askin’ me out, Half-n-half?”
“And if I was?”
Someone in the class let out a scandalized gasp. For a while there, it’d felt like they were the only three people in the room. But now, Bakugou felt the other seventeen pairs of beady eyes on them.
Izuku leaned over the desk and whispered, “Kacchan?”
“I got better shit to do than hang out with nerds.”
Izuku hummed low in his throat— truthfully, he didn’t sound all that disappointed. Something hot prickled at the back of Bakugou’s neck. He looked back to Todoroki: he didn’t seem disappointed either.
What the fuck was going on with the two of them?
Aizawa finally sauntered into the classroom. His eyes looked more puffy and bloodshot than usual. He placed a thick Manila folded down on his desk.
“Next week is August,” Aizawa said with a monotonous drawl, “which means it’s the annual pack race for first years.”
“Hell yeah!” Denki pumped his fist up into the air. He craned over to Kirishima. “What does that mean?”
“Be quiet, Kaminari.” Jiro kicked at the back of his chair.
“This year Vlad and I have restructured things. You will not be making physical contact with the other class, everyone will wear belts—“
Bakugou slumped down low in his chair and groaned.
Who the fuck decided a shitty race would be the best way to test out pack dynamics? Bakugou sure as shit wouldn’t consider anyone in 1A his pack. What total horseshit.
“— whoever collects the most flags will be the winning team—“
Bakugou’s ears perked up: well, he did like winning.
Back at the dorm, Bakugou’s room felt sweltering hot too. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. He blew out an angry breath and looked back to their assignment.
Bakugou squinted at the page: pack dynamics. Bakugou doubted Aizawa could’ve come up with a dumber assignment if he tried. Whatever, they had to race 1B. Awesome, he’d kick their ass. Take an exam about goddamn useless pack dynamics? Bakugou would rather jump out the window.
He jabbed his eraser against his notebook.
Alpha scents can be recognized by: ________
Bakugou craned his head to the side and sniffed at his armpit. Useless.
Someone tapped their fist against his door. They were real quiet at first, then they gave the door a good, solid pound. Bakugou peeled himself out of his chair.
“Shitty hair, I’m not gonna bail your ass out of—“
Bakugou whipped the door open and just stared.
“Hi, Kacchan!”
“What do you want, nerd?”
Izuku held up his notebook— full of post-it notes sticking off pages and cover scribbled all to hell. Bakugou wrenched the door open wider.
“Fuck it.”
Izuku set his bag on the floor and plopped down on Bakugou’s bed. Bakugou expected him to flip open his notebook, instead he started to fluff up Bakugou’s pillows— like he owned the place or something. Bakugou stared at him. Izuku peeled off his jacket and rolled it up into a ball behind him.
“Nerd.”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
“What the hell are you doin’?”
“What do you mean?” Izuku frowned and finally opened his notebook.
“Tsk.”
Omega scents can be recognized by: ______
”Yo, Deku, what do you smell like?”
“.... myself?” Bakugou didn’t blame him for being confused— most kids got used to the scents of their classmates and they’d been in school together for years.
“Fuck this.”
Bakugou scribbled in sweet.
Izuku twisted around and started to adjust Bakugou’s bedding again. It probably should’ve irked him, but right now he only wanted to explode his notebook. Stupid questions and dumbass pack bullshit. Izuku smoothed out his blanket and then decided to fold it up on the end of the bed. Bakugou slouched down low in his chair and groaned.
Then he heard another rap against the door.
“Yo, who is it?”
“Bakugou, it’s me. Is Midoriya there?”
“Oi, I’m coming! Don’t get your panties in a twist, Half-n-half.”
Bakugou threw the door open. Todoroki stood there with three styrofoam takeaway containers and a notebook under his arm.
“This you tryin’ to get on my good side?”
“I was hungry, I thought maybe you would be too,” Todoroki said. “I got you hot soba.” His nose wrinkled up at the hot, but he held out one of the containers anyway.
Bakugou swiped it up and waved him into the room. He passed one of the containers to Izuku. Then he sat down cross-legged on the floor with his container full of cold, bland soba. Bakugou collapsed back onto his chair.
Bakugou took a bite of the noodles— the hot spice bit pleasantly at his tongue. He hummed low in his throat. He took another big bite and then looked back at his notebook. Stupid pack bullshit.
“Half-n-half. Whaddaya think omegas smell like?”
“Musky?”
“What about alphas then, dipshit?”
“Muskier.” Todoroki took a pointed bite of his soba.
Izuku cleared his throat and said, “I think they’re trick questions. Most scents are so... individual. There’s no good generalization. Think about all our classmates.”
Bakugou really couldn’t say, so he settled for Todoroki’s very succinct musky and muskier.
“Whadda ‘bout betas?”
“Mild,” Todoroki decided with a nod.
Izuku’s mouth pinched into a frown. “Maybe, but I can pick up your scent, Todoroki, a lot easier than say, Iida’s—“
Shit. Bakugou had thought Iida was a beta until that moment. Bakugou scribbled down mild.
Todoroki rubbed at his chin. “How often do you have ruts or heats?”
“Ha! You don’t know?”
“No, I don’t.” Todoroki didn’t seem all that embarrassed about it, instead he seemed curious.
“Most people have ‘em a few times a year clustered in late summer or early fall.”
“Well what about you in particular?”
“What about me, Half-n-half?”
“How often are your ruts?”
“Depends. I had a small one in goddamn May this year.”
Bakugou didn’t miss the way that Izuku’s whole body perked up with visible interest. Todoroki looked over to him on the bed too.
Then he cleared his throat, maybe trying to act more uninterested than he was. “What about you, Midoriya?”
“I haven’t had a heat since I was thirteen, I think?” Izuku shook his head. “Suppressants.”
“Didn’t know you took that shit,” the words slipped out before Bakugou could stop them.
“Really? My mom said my scent got more... metallic after, but—“
“Y’know you don’t have to stop them, right?”
“What?” Izuku laughed, short and awkward. But his eyes looked bright and eager.
“Your heats. There’s all sorts of crap you can do to be safe— like IUDs and shit. Jeezus why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”
“What?” Izuku’s voice sounded raspy. He cleared his throat.
“You seem quite knowledgeable,” Todoroki said and Bakugou didn’t know if that was a compliment or not.
“Hell no I’m not! My dad did the bare ass minimum talkin’ about this shit.”
Izuku and Todoroki exchanged a look. Bakugou had no idea how the hell to feel about it. He settled for taking a loud, slurp-y bite of soba.
His stupid notebook felt like it stared at him with inkblot eyes and paper for teeth. Goddamn pack dynamics.
“Now get the fuck out, I gotta study this bullshit and don’t need you idiots hangin’ around.”
“Okay! See you tomorrow!”
“Have a nice night, Bakugou.”
They shuffled toward the door, all their stuff in hand. Izuku felt the need to adjust his blanket one final time. Bakugou glared at him and got a broad, sheepish smile in response.
“Hurry it up.”
After they left, his room felt... lonelier than it should have.
When Bakugou finished studying, he wiggled into bed. Something familiar and warm tickled his nose. He jerked his head to the side and saw Izuku’s jacket: the one he’d balled up and apparently left in Bakugou’s bed. Bakugou grunted and shoved the jacket underneath his head. At least the fabric wasn’t itchy and shit.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think about damnable pack dynamics.
He imagined a warm mouth dragging along the bare expanse of his throat. The feel of fingertips stroking along his hip bone. He felt so... relaxed, like he floated aimlessly at sea. But also like the hot sun beat down on the crown of his head. He twisted around and watched his own breath escape in a soft plume of smoke.
“Bakugou?” A familiar voice drawled against the shell of his ear.
He jerked around again and finally saw him: with his stupidly pretty face and his hair mussed like strands of bicolor silk. Bakugou inhaled: slow and deliberate. Todoroki smelt mild and alkaline. Which didn’t seem quite right.
“Kacchan?”
Another pair of arms wrapped around his chest and a face nuzzled between his shoulder-blades. Izuku’s body felt sturdy and searing hot against his back.
“What do you nerds want?” His voice came out muffled and garbled, like he spoke underwater.
Todoroki tipped his head to the side and just said, “You.”
Someone’s palm cupped between his legs and then a warm mouth pressed against his. A heady jolt burned through his body.
Izuku’s breath burned against his cheek. “We need an alpha, Kacchan.”
All his nerve endings chanted: yes, yes, yes—
Bakugou woke up with his nose smashed in Izuku’s jacket and an insistent throbbing between his legs. He twisted onto his back and glared up at the ceiling. He rubbed the heel of his palm against one swollen, puffy eye.
He pawed at his nightstand. It took him three tries, but he finally swiped up his phone. He squinted at the bright screen and googled:
How do omegas and betas react to an upcoming rut?
He skimmed through the suggestions: a particular highlight being “omegas get wet” from some trashy cosmopolitan ass bullshit site.
He chewed at his lower lip and made a mental list:
1. Omegas may start to nest or encourage the alpha to
2. Betas may try to give gifts or offer assistance with the nest
3. They might not give a shit at all
Well that didn’t help at all. He rubbed at his eyes. It probably depended on if they were interested or not. Certainly some of their classmates had to be omegas who’d gone into heat and Bakugou sure as shit didn’t notice.
His lips felt dry and cracked and gross. His tongue swiped across his lower lip and he tasted something metallic. He typed:
Alpha, omega, and beta trios
Bakugou didn’t really know what exactly he expected, but a pornhub video titled ”alpha fucks beta and omega into submission” really wasn’t it. He scrolled down and popped over onto Wikipedia:
One of the most common pack groups. Traditionally, omegas would be responsible for rearing children, betas would maintain the home, and alphas would be the main breadwinner for the household—
Great. So they were supposed to what exactly? Be a mom, a maid, and a piggy bank? Bakugou’s whole body rankled. That sure as shit wasn’t gonna happen. He clicked randomly on a book excerpt linked on the Wiki:
The Alpha/Beta/Omega trio is one of the most timeless pack groups. With the omega’s emotional vulnerability, the beta’s soothing presence, and the alpha’s fierce passion—
Yeah, nope, that wouldn’t do either. Sure, Bakugou had loads of passion. Oodles of it. But Izuku sure as shit did too and he definitely wouldn’t describe Todoroki as ‘soothing’.
Bakugou tossed his phone to the side and scrubbed a hand across his face.
He could still remember how they’d felt in his dream: so deliciously warm and solid. But most importantly they’d felt like they were his. It shouldn’t have excited him, but blood rushed between his hips so fast he felt lightheaded.
He shoved down the waistband of his shorts and took himself in hand. He closed his eyes and started to stroke himself. He wanted to be efficient, but he then he pictured them:
The way frost clung to Todoroki’s upper lip whenever he overused his right side— mouth so distracting and pink, Bakugou wanted to wipe it off just to feel the soft swell of his lip. But Todoroki would stare back at him and lick his lip like a damn porn star. So achingly, startling pretty.
Then Izuku would land in front of him, fists held out in front of himself: sickeningly determined with his bright, brilliant eyes. Bakugou’d look up and down his body: stare at the way Izuku’s calves and thighs flexed under the tight material of his hero costume. The bright blush that’d dust his face whenever he caught Bakugou’s eye. That same blush that carried down his solid chest all the way to his trim hips—
Bakugou let out a quiet grunt. He came way too fast, would’ve been embarrassed if it wouldn’t have just been him and his hand. The slow, steady buzz of pleasure rumbled through his body. He exhaled, too fast and eager. He propped himself up in bed and wiped his wet, sticky hand off on a Kleenex.
Bakugou flopped down onto his back again and glared at the ceiling.
He was definitely gonna go into rut soon.