Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first thing Shouto registers is the pain. Hot, searing pain all down his body. His head feels like it’s been ripped in two, an agonizing pounding as if being hit over and over by a sledgehammer.

His eyes are screwed shut and Shouto can’t even attempt to open them. There’s a bright light behind them that seems to be pulsing along with his pain, and Shouto can’t tell where he is or what’s going on. 

There’s sounds of beeping, ticking, chiming. He’s laying down, a soft material under his frame. The sound of wheels scuttling. He realizes he’s being transported somewhere.

A hospital? Shouto needs to know what’s happening. He tries to open his eyes but it’s too much. He needs to get up and figure out what’s happening. He barely gets a finger to twitch. His weak attempt at moving would be futile except for the fact that he realizes there’s something warm clasped in his hand. He groans, weakly and softly and almost imperceptible with the noise around him.

Not so imperceptible to whoever has his hand.

“Sho? Baby, you with me? Shit, you’re gonna be fine, alright? We’re almost there.”

That voice. Shouto knows that voice.

The hand tightens in Shouto’s hold. Shouto’s head feels like it’s splitting.

He tries to squeeze the hand back. He has no idea if he’s successful or not before he succumbs to nothingness.

Shouto’s eyelids feel heavy when he finally squints them open. The room he’s in now is bright and plain, the lighting bouncing off his white bedsheets—definitely at the hospital then. Each breath feels labored, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, and while his head no longer feels like it’s splitting, now it feels like a heavy pulsing against his temples. His right arm is bandaged pretty heavily though Shouto can’t tell what the main issue is. His torso down is covered by hospital clothes and the bedsheet.

There’s some type of machine hooked up to him that’s beeping steadily. He forces his eyes open wider despite the way they burn.

He has to blink twice when he sees Bakugou Katsuki at his bedside, in his hero costume, sitting in the chair right beside Shouto and–Shouto glances down– holding his hand gently. Bakugou is covered in either ash or soot, the blond of his hair a muddy grey and his bare arms streaked with the powdery substance. Bakugou’s looking off in the distance, facing the small window on the door that shows the hallway. However, his eyes look practically glazed over. Shouto can tell he isn’t seeing a thing. Distantly, Shouto wonders how long Bakugou’s been sitting here, and how long he himself has been out.

Bakugou’s hand that is holding Shouto’s is warm. His thumb is running over Shouto’s knuckles softly, seemingly without a thought. Shouto had been so focused on his pain he hadn’t even felt the calming motion.

He forces himself to find his voice, rasping out, “Bakugou?” 

His throat feels like he’s eaten pounds of gravel and sounds like it too, rough and coarse and hard to bear. Bakugou’s head immediately whips to face him, completely startled.

“Why are you here?” Shouto continues to choke out. His side throbs with the rise and fall of his breaths as he speaks.

In rapid succession Bakugou’s eyes widen, then his eyebrows furrow and the hand in Shouto’s tightens. He looks confused and his mouth opens once, twice, and then shuts. His face morphs once more and goes almost impassive a moment later. 

Shouto isn’t as bad at reading people as he was as a teenager, but his head is still pounding and his whole body hurts. He can’t even attempt to understand the emotions crossing Bakugou’s face.

“Do you want water?” Bakugou asks, and his own voice sounds tight. 

Shouto nods slowly. Even that slight movement hurts.

Bakugou turns away for a moment—not letting go of Shouto’s hand—and turns back holding a paper cup with a straw pierced through the lid.

He holds it close enough to Shouto that he doesn’t even have to move his neck, just has to purse his lips to get to the cup. The first sip feels like pure bliss. It coats his throat and feels like it’s seeping into every crack and dry piece of muscle.

Shouto drinks his fill and then Bakugou is moving the cup away from him. He keeps it in his hand though.

He’s still pretty out of it—probably due to whatever meds he must be on—but he has to be in pretty bad shape if Bakugou is willing to take care of him. It makes him fear just how injured he is. 

“Thanks,” Shouto says and it already sounds better than before.

“Where’s it hurt the most?” Bakugou asks, scanning Shouto up and down.

Shouto can’t help but crack a slight smile. Leave it to Bakugou to not beat around the bush.

“My side, I think. My arm though too. And my head.” Shouto frowns, “Everything hurts, Bakugou.”

Again, something flashes over Bakugou’s face. It’s quick, but Shouto catches it.

“You’ve been out for a few hours. Do you remember what happened?” Bakugou asks.

His voice is gruff but he’s staring at Shouto intensely. The skin around his eyes is the only place not streaked with ash due to the (now removed) mask Bakugou wears, and Shouto finds himself staring.

He tries to think back. Everything is so fuzzy in his brain.

“There was a villain,” Shouto starts slowly.

That much is obvious.

Bakugou waits for him to elaborate.

Shouto does not.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Bakugou asks instead.

Again, Shouto tries to think back and again, everything feels muddy.

“Midoriya and I…we left our apartment this morning. To go to the company. We both had patrol duties, I think...”

Bakugou’s face is that same impassive look as before, the reds of his eyes boring into Shouto’s as he talks. It makes Shouto feel exposed, and he trails off instead of trying to continue.

Shouto shuts his eyes. He tries to think back and yet nothing is coming to him. The most he can see are flashes of some nondescript fight, a flash of Midoriya and a flash of Bakugou beside him.

He opens his eyes.

“Midoriya, is he—where is he? Is he okay?”

Bakugou is nodding before Shouto even finishes talking, “Deku’s fine. He’s here, just went to buy a drink from the vending machine. He’s not any worse than me.”

Bakugou gestures to himself and Shouto really takes in the sight of him. Under the layer of soot there are some scrapes and obvious bruising, maybe some swelling across his arm. There’s something else too, something Shouto’s scrambled mind can’t quite put a finger on. But he doesn’t look terrible. Just dirty.

Shouto nods and then winces at the movement. Bakugou raises the cup back to his mouth and Shouto takes a drink gratefully. When he’s done, Bakugou places the cup back onto the small table beside him.

“I’m gonna get the doctor,” Bakugou says, “now that you’re awake.”

Something feels…off about how Bakugou says it. It’s sort of monotone, lacking the usual heightened emotions he speaks with. As if he’s trying not to show any emotion at all. 

And something’s off about Bakugou’s body language as he rises from the chair, letting Shouto’s hand go gently, the way his eyebrows are furrowed, and how he isn’t meeting Shouto’s eyes.

Shouto lets him leave without a word. He watches him from the small window on the door until he’s out of sight. From his vantage point he can only see a slight bit of the hallway, and a corner of the nurses station.

He watches a nurse typing something into a computer for a while, twiddling with a pen every so often. When he gets bored of that he stares out his room's window. The window in his room is slightly too far to peer down at the street, but he watches a few clouds pass by as he waits. The clock on the wall shows it’s been about thirty minutes since he’s woken up, and about ten since Bakugou left.

Which—why has Bakugou stayed here this whole time (at least a few hours, if his earlier statement about how long Shouto’s been asleep is accurate) instead of going home to shower? Or back to work? Had he been injured worse than it looked? Maybe the doctor was examining him during that time so he couldn’t leave.

Before he can do any more musings, the door opens back up. This time it’s Midoriya, and he rushes over to Shouto’s side.

“Kacchan said you were up, how’re you feeling?” Midoriya asks as soon as he’s beside him, giving Shouto a once over as he sits.

“Shitty,” Shouto answers honestly, “how long was I out?”

“About five hours? I think? We got here this morning, pretty much right after we went out on patrol. It was the first call we responded to.”

“What happened?” Shouto asks.

There’s a knock at the door and then it’s immediately being opened, a tall woman with a reassuring smile walking in with Bakugou behind her.

“Todoroki-san, we’re glad to see you’re awake. I’m Doctor Hong, we’ve met briefly before but I’ve been your primary care doctor here so far. I’ve got just a few questions to go through if you feel up for it.”

“Yes, yes I think so.”

“Generally, we do this portion one on one so if it’s alright with you we’ll have your guests wait outside,” Doctor Hong continues.

“That’s fine,” Shouto says.

He’s been to the hospital enough times at this point in his career, he knows how this portion goes. Bakugou and Midoriya both walk out of the room, Bakugou casting one final glance at him once the door shuts.

“Okay, Todoroki-san,” Doctor Hong smiles warmly, now holding Shouto’s medical chart, “are you ready to begin?”

“Yes.”

“What is your full name?”

“Todoroki Shouto.”

“Do you know where you currently are?”

Shouto hasn’t asked definitively, but he’s been to this hospital enough times to recognize it without a doubt.

“All Might Memorial Hospital.”

“What are the names of your parents and siblings?”

“Todoroki Enji and Todoroki Rei are my parents. I have three siblings, Todoroki Touya, Todoroki Fuyumi, and Todoroki Natsuo. I’m the youngest.”

Doctor Hong notes all of this down, not displaying any reactions.

“Name of a current partner or partners, if applicable?”

“No, none.”

“And how old are you, Todoroki-san?”

Shouto only has to think for a moment before he says, “Twenty-three. I’ll be twenty-four in January.”

“What date is your birthday?”

“January twelfth.”

“Current address?”

Shouto rattles off his address.

“Any roommates or do you live alone?”

“I have one roommate, Midoriya Izuku.”

She veers to general questions, the Prime Minister of Japan, the current year, simple math questions, and a few history questions.

Finally, she asks, “What brought you to our hospital today?”

This gives Shouto some pause. He’s remembering snippets of the morning. There was some kind of villain attack obviously. Flashes of fighting and getting hit by something. Images of Midoriya and Bakugou. Then feeling nothing at all.

He relays all of this information, including the gaps in his memory, and Doctor Hong takes note of it all again. She writes for a prolonged silence, only the clock ticking and the machine beeping filling the space.

She then asks him about where he’d grown up, what school he’d attended and who he was classmates with and who taught them. She asks similar questions about how things were after he graduated from U.A. in the years since then. Shouto answers each one diligently. It’s a bit more in depth than his usual questioning, which worries him slightly. However, he had clearly been knocked unconscious for some time. It makes sense for the hospital to cover all their bases.

They move onto some more physical tests. Doctor Hong checks his eyes with a flashlight, and moves on to check his ears and throat as well. She doesn’t re-examine his body but she explains the injuries he’d sustained (stitches in his right arm, bruising alongside his right side, and a blow to the head). 

“Thank you, Todoroki-san. If you excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

Shouto nods and she leaves the room. He’s alone now, staring off at the wall. There’s a television hanging there but it’s not currently on. 

He tries to look out the window again but it’s just as dull as last time. The sun is lower though, and the sky is beginning to fill with a multitude of pretty colors. Shouto alternates between staring out of the window and out to the empty hallway.

When Doctor Hong re-enters, she’s followed by both Bakugou and Midoriya. Shouto’s heart rate quickens instantly. Bakugou’s eyes are rimmed red and he’s staring resolutely at the back of Doctor Hong’s head. Beside him, Midoriya is wringing his hands together but smiling softly at Shouto. His face is pale.

This isn’t good.

Shouto stares at them, his hands clenching around the blankets. Something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Midoriya and Bakugou look at one another, Bakugou glares harshly and intensely, and then Midoriya is sinking into the seat beside Shouto’s bed. Bakugou stands beside it.

“Todoroki-san,” Doctor Hong begins with a calming voice, “I brought your guests along as I have some information that may be tough to hear. They’re both listed as emergency contacts, but if you’d rather hear the information on your own we will do so.”

Shouto’s stomach drops.

“What—what is it?”

He reaches out blindly to grasp Midoriya’s hand, and clutches it hard when he finds it.

Doctor Hong takes a short, deep breath and says, “The villain attack from earlier today has left you with some memory loss. You seem to be missing a period of about four years.”

Shouto freezes. His stomach bottoms out and his heart stops. Everything stops. 

Memory loss? Four years? 

No, no that can’t be. She must be mistaken.

“That can’t be right.” Shouto denies, “Why are you saying this?” His voice is audibly panicked.

“I realize this is hard to hear,” Doctor Hong says, “We’re working to figure out if this is quirk related or a medical injury. In many cases, amnesia clears up in a matter of hours. In others, it can last for longer, for a few days or weeks. In very rare cases does amnesia persist for longer.”

“Where’s your—what’s your proof? How do you even know?” Shouto asks, his voice shaking.

“You’re twenty-seven years old, Todoroki-san,” Doctor Hong explains gently, “Twenty-eight in three months. The prime minister you named finished his term two years ago.”

Doctor Hong is speaking in a calm, level voice. But Shouto’s head is spinning. The pounding is coming back full force, his temple throbbing with each new piece of information. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping Midoriya’s hand until his own fingers start to ache.

“So I’m…” Shouto starts but can’t find the words to continue.

He finally looks at Midoriya. He’s watching Shouto and there are tears in his eyes despite the smile plastered on his face.

“It might be over really quickly though, right? She said it doesn’t usually last that long.”

There’s a pit in Shouto’s stomach, heavy and deep and dark. His eyes shift up to Bakugou.

Bakugou isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at Doctor Hong like he’s waiting for her to keep talking, to tell them how to fix the problem. He sniffles, and Shouto realizes numbly that Bakugou is crying.

Bakugou Katsuki is crying. 

And suddenly it feels a whole lot worse. Because something else has to be terribly wrong if Bakugou is reacting like this. It can’t just be amnesia. Shouto must be sick. 

Dying. 

“What else,” Shouto asks. It’s barely audible. He doesn’t mean to whisper but his voice won’t cooperate.

Doctor Hong says, “There are a few next steps we can take. Should you like to rest and be monitored here, that can be arranged. We recommend going back to your home space as it can help jog your memories.”

Her voice starts to sound as if Shouto’s underwater, far away and fuzzy. There’s a beeping sound that gets louder and louder. 

“Todoroki-san, take some deep breaths for me.”

Shouto realizes it’s his heart monitor alerting.

“No, I mean” Shouto shakes his head, taking a stuttering breath, “my vitals. What else is wrong?”

Doctor Hong smiles reassuringly, “Despite being pretty banged up, your vitals are healthy, Todoroki-san. You don’t appear to be concussed, but we will still encourage you to keep an eye on him for the next twenty four hours. Your right arm took the brunt of the fall, but we repaired the break. We were unable to heal everything as we didn’t want to put your body under too much duress, so the aches and pains you’re feeling will persist for a few days more.”

Shouto takes in the information with growing confusion. “But then—” he turns back to Bakugou who’s actually looking at him now, and his face locks up at being caught staring.

“Why are you crying then! I thought I was dying!”

Shouto attempts to yell, louder than anything he’s said since he awoke.

Bakugou sputters for multiple seconds, wiping his eyes before responding, “Deku’s crying too! Fuck off!”

“Midoriya cries about everything.” Shouto retorts, breathing out deeply.

Midoriya nods, sniffling.

Shouto turns back to Doctor Hong, “I have amnesia. But the rest of my body is healthy?”

She nods, “Aside from the surface level injuries, the amnesia is the only other issue.”

Shouto sighs in relief and loosens his grip in Midoriya’s hand. The beeping of the heart monitor begins to calm. Obviously the amnesia is horrible, but he isn’t dying. Just missing some time. He turns back to his friends.

“What happened? How did I get here?”

Midoriya turns to Bakugou and they have yet another silent conversation that escapes Shouto. He wonders if he’d be able to understand it if he wasn’t currently an amnesiac. 

“You were responding to a report, a bank robbery,” Bakugou starts, eyes already less red as he’s looking at Shouto again, “it was supposed to be something easy. We’ve responded to those calls hundreds of times.”

Shouto hums in affirmation. Even in his apparently limited memory he can recall dozens of calls on the same caliber.

“But it wasn’t.” Bakugou’s eyes darken, “You called for back up when you realized it was a set up. An ambush. Dozens of villains were there.”

Shouto gasps despite himself.

“A League uprising?” He asks quickly.

Midoriya answers, “Hard to say exactly. But it’s the first time there’s been a large-scale villain team up since then. It could have been just an attempt to take out the number one hero.”

Shouto stills.

“The,” he swallows, “the number one hero? That’s me?” he finishes quietly.

Bakugou huffs and rolls his eyes, “This month, yeah. Don’t go looking so smug, I’ll beat you again next month.”

Shouto can’t help himself, a giddy feeling in his chest. He’s the number one hero. Todoroki Shouto.

“After Endeavor retired,” Midoriya says, “there’s been a bit of a back and forth over the number one hero.”
He’s grinning, the first genuine smile and not concerned expression Shouto has seen on his face since he woke up. It makes him feel a bit more at ease.

“This amnesia,” Shouto looks back to Doctor Hong, “how long will it take to learn if it is quirk based?”

“We’re working on logging the quirks registered to all of the people in the vicinity at the time. Once we figure that out, we will know for sure.”

“But in the meantime you think I should go back home? And try to jumpstart my memories?”

Doctor Hong nods, “Yes, exactly. Anything that can remind you of what you are missing would be important. I will say,” and she looks to Bakugou and Midoriya as well, “start slow. Trying to force the memories can cause distress and more harm than good, like regression or possible anxiety attacks. Any big changes should be revealed with care.”

All three of them voice their understanding. Shouto tries to stifle a yawn, but doesn’t manage to move his arm fast enough to do so.

Doctor Hong smiles sympathetically, “You must be exhausted, your body has been through a lot of trauma today. I’ve written a prescription for some stronger pain killers. It’s a week’s worth which should be plenty. Two a day, morning and night. If you continue to have persistent pain after a week, let me know. Otherwise, over the counter pain relief should do the trick.”

“Okay. So am I free to go?” Shouto asks.

“Yes, Todoroki-san. I encourage it, even. As I said, your vitals are clear for discharge. You’ll just be in pain for a while.”

Shouto looks to his friends and they both nod, Midoriya reassuringly and Bakugou stilted. 

“You have one more dose of the pain meds before you go. The pharmacy should have your prescription ready by the time you leave here. Start taking them tomorrow morning,” Doctor Hong says as she gets the medication for Shouto.

He takes the small white pill and downs it with a sip of water from the cup once again held by Bakugou, a chalky residue left on his tongue.

The next forty minutes are taken up by discharge paperwork– which Shouto has to be helped with filling out–and finalizing follow-up appointments. He has one a week from today to remove the stitches in his arm and to check on his general well-being by then. 

Bakugou steps out of the room to make a phone call. Shouto watches him leave and he stops just outside the door. It’s muffled but Shouto manages to catch just a little bit of the conversation when Bakugou raises his voice:

“...just move them! To our room! And move the clothes!”

Bakugou walks further down the hallway and doesn't come back for almost fifteen minutes. When he does, he’s holding a folded pile of clothes in his hands.

“Kirishima dropped these off for you,” he says brusquely, putting the clothes on the edge of the bed. His arms at this point have been washed, probably in the hospital bathroom. The rest of him is still covered in the thin layer of ash.

“Oh, thanks,” Shouto says, “Is he still here?” 

“Nah, he couldn’t stay. He offered to come by and see you though. I told him you could decide that for yourself.”

“That’s nice of him,” Shouto says and he tries to sit up. He winces, and both Bakugou and Midoriya reach towards him instantly. “I think I’ll need help with changing.”

Midoriya takes an almost imperceptible step back, allowing Bakugou to come in closer. He does so, bringing the clothes with him. 

Carefully, Bakugou slips the shoulders of the hospital gown off of Shouto. Shouto closes his eyes, unwilling to look at himself and the probable myriad of injuries on himself. Bakugou gets the neck of the sweater over Shouto, the fabric drifting over his face. Shouto opens his eyes when the sweater falls against his shoulders. He stares at Bakugou’s face and sees the intense focus in his eyes. The sweater falls over his eyes and Shouto loses sight for a moment.

The sweater is incredibly soft and probably a size or two too big, so it goes over Shouto without issue. When his head pops back out, Bakugou is staring at him still, his mouth twisted slightly as if he’s examining Shouto. Which, he probably is.

“We’re gonna have to stand or something, to get the pants on,” Bakugou says, motioning to Midoriya.

Midoriya steps closer and the two of them start the slow process of getting Shouto to the edge of the bed. He has to pause multiple times to just breathe through the pain. They get the sweatpants on him and those too are incredibly soft. They must be his, as they aren’t too big like the shirt, but Shouto doesn’t recognize them. They’re just a random pair of grey sweatpants to him.

He stays at the edge of the bed as a nurse comes in with a wheelchair. Doctor Hong comes in a final time to send him off, with explicit instructions to come back if he has any unusual symptoms.

“I’ll bring the car around,” Bakugou says and he leaves first. 

Shouto is helped into the wheelchair by two nurses. It’s a slow process. He’s given a hat to throw on his head to cover his hair so he can leave with less eyes on him. The rest of his belongings (what appears to be his hero costume and wallet) are handed to him in a medical bag. His costume is filthy, and Shouto instantly recognizes there’s a huge gash in it with the way it’s folded in the see-through bag. He’ll have to have it mended ASAP.

Midoriya stays behind and walks with Shouto as they bring him out of the hospital through the back door. When they get there, Bakugou is leaning against his car, texting someone on his phone with a scowl. Shouto doesn’t know shit about cars but he does know this one matches Bakugou perfectly: not too small but not obnoxiously large, a sleek black color with just a touch of orange details and what looks like off roading wheels. 

Bakugou looks up when he hears them approach, and his expression smooths out unmistakably when he sees Shouto. He pockets his phone and begins to walk towards them. Shouto flushes, embarrassed to be needing so much assistance.

“I’ll help you into the car and then I’ve got to run back to the agency for some things. But I’ll meet you at your apartment,” Midoriya says.

Shouto hums his agreement, still fixated on how much help he’s needed in this last hour.

Bakugou and Midoriya help him into the car after thanking but denying assistance from the nurses. They get him in the front seat and safely buckled before Midoriya says goodbye for now.

Bakugou gets into the driver's seat and starts the car, listening to it hum to life and adjusting the heat setting before pulling out of the hospital driveway. The car is silent save for the air circulation, and then there’s a little ding of noise and the screen in the center console lights up.

Shouto’s Phone

No Title

No Artist

Shouto stares at it. Bakugou glances down at it. He sucks in a breath.

“If you want music, play something,” Bakugou says, clearing his throat.

He sounds weird again. Stressed. Or strained. Not like the Bakugou Shouto knows. 

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“It’s probably with your other shit.”

Shouto sighs slightly, “It’s in the back seat.”

Bakugou doesn’t answer. 

Shouto turns his head carefully to look at Bakugou. He’s staring at the road, eyes trained ahead. He looks on edge. Very clearly on edge since Bakugou has always worn his emotions like an accessory, and apparently that has not changed. Even with the still dirty face, his jaw is set and his stare is hard.

Shouto glances back down to the center console with his own phone connected. Does Shouto ride with Bakugou often enough that he’d be connected to his car? Or was it a one time thing, and maybe Shouto was the GPS navigator?

Shouto looks back to Bakugou. Who’s driving him home. To the apartment he shares with Midoriya. Who was also at the hospital…

“Why are you taking me home and not Midoriya?” Shouto asks, staring at Bakugou’s side profile.

He watches as Bakugou’s hands tighten on the wheel. He shifts his blinker on, the ticking of the signal filling the car as he switches lanes. 

Tik…

Tik…

Tik…

“I’m taking you because we live together.”

Shouto stills.

Your apartment. That’s what Midoriya had said a few minutes ago. Not our. Your.

He keeps staring at Bakugou. Bakugou doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t even glance his way. Why would he? He’s driving. 

“We…do?”

“Yeah, Halfie. We do.”

“Oh.” A beat passes. “Why?”

Bakugou sucks his teeth. The air is tense in the car.

“We wanted to live together.”

Oh. This is…this is quite the development. 

Shouto lives with Bakugou. That’s a normal thing now that he’s 27 apparently. It’s certainly not something 23 year old Shouto thought was a possibility (maybe in his fantasies, but real life? No way.)

Shouto continues to stare at Bakugou and he continues to not even glance at Shouto.

It’s fine.

“Why’d we want to do that?”

Bakugou laughs—just slightly hysterical to Shouto’s ears, “You really ask a lot of questions, shit. We live together because we want to, okay?” Bakugou drags a hand through his hair. It comes back ashy. “And, shit, Deku’s coming by later anyway, you’re gonna get to see him, princess.”

Bakugou finally glances at him now, and there’s a strange dusting of pink on his face. He looks away just as quickly. He swears under his breath and slows at the red light. His grip on the wheel has turned his fingers white.

Shouto thinks for a moment. He supposes it might make sense…but actually, not a whole lot of sense at all. Why would Bakugou want to live with anyone other than his best friend, and why would it be Shouto of all people?

Unless…

“Wait, what about Kirishima? Are you and Kirishima not friends anymore?”

“Everyone’s still friends, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“I don’t wear panties,” Shouto corrects.

Bakugou makes a weird sound, like he’s choking on whatever words were about to leave his mouth, and he whips his head to the side to look at Shouto again. 

A car beeps behind them and Bakugou whips his head back, muttering and cursing at the now green light.

Shouto looks back at Bakugou’s hands and stares. He’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to be that color. His fingertips look painfully white, absolutely no circulation flowing through them.

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to drive,” Shouto points out.

“Hah?” Bakugou responds quickly, “You want to take over then, since you know every fucking thing?”

Shouto thinks back. Then sighs, “I don’t remember how.”

That actually makes Bakugou laugh and Shouto can tell it’s the first genuine laugh he’s done since they got in the car by the way it startles out of him.

“You don’t remember how because you never learned, you idiot. Who do you think’s been chauffeuring your dumbass around for years? Always saying you don’t have to learn cuz someone else will do it for you.” 

Shouto can’t help it, his mouth quirks up into a smirk. This is the Bakugou Shouto remembers. Not the strangely jumpy and nervous Bakugou. This, sharp and quick and just the right side of rude.

They slow down as they pull up to an apartment complex. Shouto peers up at it from his window. He remembers this building.

“This is where you and Kirishima live, right? Or, lived, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Bakugou says.

He parks the car and then gets out quickly. Shouto struggles to match his pace, unbuckling his seatbelt and trying to maneuver it around his injured arm. His door flies open and Bakugou is in the middle of muttering,

“…can’t wait one fucking second for me to get to the door. Fucking hell, Shouto, acting like I’m making you do everything on your own. Stop messing with that before you get yourself more injured.”

And he’s guiding the buckle back to its spot and gently helping Shouto out of the car. Shouto lets him because Bakugou is more or less refusing to let him do it alone and, yeah, he does need the help. 

“So, you remember this place, hah?” Bakugou asks once they’re situated out of the car.

Shouto is leaning slightly against his door while Bakugou is in front of him, arms crossed. Shouto nods. His breaths are labored, even that small bit of physical exertion has him feeling winded. The pain meds should be kicking in any second now. But as long as they haven’t, he’s gonna feel like shit.

“Think you can remember how to get to the right apartment?”

Shouto starts to nod but then stops.

“It’s the same one as you and Kirishima, right? I only remember it from back then. Not now.”

Something in Bakugou’s face softens and he simply nods.

Shouto lets out a shaky breath and says, “Then yes, I do remember.”

It’s a sort of slow ascent up the stairs. Shouto’s muscles are still aching. He’s expecting some kind of snarky comment from Bakugou but he doesn’t bitch about it at all. In fact, he makes no comments the entire time. Not about how long it takes to get to the entrance of the building nor any comments about the time it takes to make it to the elevator. 

Bakugou keeps a guiding arm around Shouto’s waist the entire time. He doesn’t even drop it when they’re inside the elevator. If Shouto was in any less pain, he’d be fixated on it.

Shouto hits the button for the third floor, and Bakugou nods slightly next to him. He feels proud of himself for all of two seconds before reality comes crashing down again. Once off the elevator, they take another few minutes to get to the right door. Number 9, at the end of the hall.

Bakugou gets his keys in hand and then unlocks the door. He pushes it open and motions for Shouto to step inside.

Shouto does so, shuffling in with a hand against the wall. He’s still in his hospital slippers so he just slips them off at the genkan. The door shuts behind him and Bakugou is back beside him, a hand against his waist.

“Let’s get you on the couch,” he says, forgoing taking off his own boots and instead leading Shouto further in.

Shouto’s eyes drink in everything they can, darting around the room for memories to resurface. They do, but not the right ones. He can see the apartment has changed since Kirishima lived here but he’s only remembering it from that time.

Straight ahead lies the side view of the staircase, a small mirror hanging on the wall where the staircase goes higher.

The couch is the same, a large grey sectional with ample room for people to sit (Shouto recalls three separate occasions sitting here, squeezed in between different friends all hanging out in the living room. Which–Shouto wouldn’t have expected Bakugou to be the hosting type, but paired with Kirishima he supposes it was a natural progression.)

It’s Shouto’s set of arm chairs in the living room now, both teal blue and cushiony and the first adult purchase he’d made for the apartment with Midoriya. It used to be a set of brown chairs, big and cushiony and probably Kirishima’s. They walk towards the couch, Shouto feeling steadier on his feet but still allowing Bakugou to guide him.

He turns his head to the right, on the wall is a gallery type set up of photos, mismatched frames and sizes. From here he recognizes stills of their friends and families scattered around. The wall color is a pretty and pale tan. It’s neutral and helps to make the furniture and other decor pop. Quite well actually, this apartment looks more cohesive than the one he lives in with Midoriya.

Lived.

Right.

His eyes shift to the left where further away sits a small wooden circular table with four chairs around it. The chairs are upholstered with matching swirling designs, but the color of each is different. One red, one blue, one yellow, and one green. Not too bright and flashy, but just loud enough to look unique.

There’s various plants around the immediate space he can see. A rather large looking tree, a palm, maybe, with its spiking leaves and thin trunk. Various pots are hanging from the ceiling, different ferns displayed in them in corners of the room.

There’s a quiet pitter patter sound from the stairs and Shouto turns his head to look. He gasps, a little furry head coming into view as a cat lumbers down the steps. 

“Oh my god,” Shouto murmurs as the cat comes around the bend of the stairs, “Rubble?”

Rubble chirps out a hoarse meow where he stands in front of Shouto and starts to weave through his legs. He is–truthfully–sort of ugly. He has a snaggle tooth that pokes just under his upper jaw that forces him into an almost permanent scowl. He’s rather large and scraggly looking, tabby coat short but always looking slightly unkempt despite regular grooming. His left ear is scratched and curled inwards due to an injury before Shouto had adopted him.

“You remember him?” Bakugou asks in clear astonishment.

“I–yeah, it’s Rubble. Dumpster, you know?” Shouto says as he extends his left hand and bends a little to pet the cat. 

Bakugou’s hand slips slightly from his waist but stays on the small of Shouto’s back as he pets Rubble.

“What do you remember about Dumpster, Icyhot?” Bakugou presses.

Rubble meows loudly and scratchy again at the sound of his name.

“I found him in the dumpster behind here,” Shouto says excitedly, “and I started to feed him. You didn’t want him at first,” Shouto remembers.

Shouto had been feeding this old, scrappy looking cat for a few weeks before Bakugou had found out. The cat had become more and more trusting of Shouto as time passed and he’d started calling him Rubble on account of his tabby coat and how dusty he’d been.

“You…you had seen the cat food one day so I brought you outside and showed you him. You said ‘I’m not bringing this dumpster cat into my apartment,’” Shouto does a poor impression of Bakugou which makes Bakugou scoff out a laugh. And that was…” Shouto thinks to himself, “last year? Right?”

Bakugou nods, face splitting into a grin.

Shouto grins back, “But, clearly, you like him just as much as I do so we rescued him anyway.”

At this point Rubble is purring loudly and stretching up Bakugou’s leg, waiting expectantly for him to pet him too.

“Yeah, yeah, Dumpster has his moments. Let’s get you sitting though,” Bakugou says.

“This is good, right? It must be already working,” Shouto says as he straightens up and turns to the couch.

“Yeah, this is fucking fantastic, Sho. Like, fuck, this is great, seriously,” Bakugou says, his hand tightening around Shouto’s waist as he says it.

Once he’s propped up on the couch–the long part so he can stretch out–Rubble jumps up beside him. He twirls around a few times before settling against Shouto’s side.

“You hungry?” Bakugou asks.

Shouto yawns and shakes his head no. Rubble purrs loudly beside him.

“I can make something. We–you went grocery shopping yesterday. So. It’s all shit you like.”

Shouto shakes his head, “I’m fine, Bakugou, really.”

Bakugou bites his bottom lip but makes no move to walk away.

Shouto yawns again.

Bakugou scratches at his arm. He’s still in his dirty hero uniform. 

Shouto frowns, and settles more comfortably into the cushions. 

“Do you want to shower? I’m sure you can’t be comfortable.”

Bakugou glances at the stairs. He looks reluctant to leave.

Shouto yawns yet again, “Go shower. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

Bakugou looks back at him. He sighs.

“Fine. Yell if you need something. I’m serious.”

Shouto nods sleepily, his eyes already drifting closed. The last thing he hears before he drifts off is Bakugou’s footsteps retreating.

-=-=-=-

He’s roused from sleep by a delicious smell wafting over to him. He opens his eyes and he’s in the same spot he’d fallen asleep in. Only now Rubble is gone and there is a blanket draped over him.

Shouto knows this blanket. It was a gift from Ochako, fuzzy and cute with different cat faces on it. He feels a fluttery kind of something in his stomach that Bakugou is the one who put the blanket over him. He tries to quell it.

He goes to move and finds he isn’t in quite as much pain as before. He sits himself up, the blanket falling to his waist, and takes care to keep his right arm close to his body. He gets his legs off the side of the couch. It doesn’t hurt when he tries to stand, his feet feel steady underneath him, so he rises. 

He haphazardly folds the blanket before picking it up and doing it again but better. Bakugou is probably a stickler for that kind of thing. Shouto doesn’t want to make a bad first impression as a roommate. 

Or well—not a first impression.

Shouto glances around the room again, taking it all in. In front of the couch is a television hanging on the wall. On his right there is of course the front door as well as a window beside it. There’s a cat tree at the window and a small chest he assumes is filled with cat toys.

The framed pictures on the wall there are photos of their friends. Shouto goes closer to the wall. It’s mismatched and sort of silly, photos from various moments in their past. Shouto knows some of them–thank god. A reunion photo of their class is framed near the center, taken just a few months ago in Shouto’s memory. They had discussed making sure to have at least one annual meetup. Shouto hopes they still do.

There’s another one of just Shouto, Tenya, and Ochako. He remembers this vividly. It was their third year at UA, close to their graduation date. The third years were doing their best to push the boundaries of what rules they could break. The three of them had snuck back to the school (barely breaking the rules, honestly, with the number of people who use the gym after hours). 

The photo is a selfie from Ochako’s phone, the three of them are floating just outside their classroom’s sixth floor windows. Ochako is laughing in the forefront, Tenya behind her flailing about, while Shouto is just slightly further up, straight faced and upside down.

It is an incredibly fond memory that has Shouto smiling. 

Right beside that is a photo of Shouto, Midoriya, Kirishima, and Bakugou: arms slung around each other, camera close to their faces. This was the first day they’d signed at their agencies. Shouto and Midoriya together, and Bakugou with Kirishima.

Above that is one of Bakugou and his friends. It was taken in this apartment but back when Kirishima lived here based on the furniture. Whoever had taken the picture–probably Kirishima based on the group–was standing on the staircase behind Shouto now. There’s a slew of snacks and drinks on the coffee table and some type of card game being played.

He takes in the rest of the wall and can’t help but notice the slightly erratic placement of the frames. There’s weird gaps where the wall is visible, almost like a photo has been removed or changed places. Shouto places his hand on one of those gaps and brushes his index finger over the small hole where a nail once was. They must have rearranged this wall in the past.

The fact that he has no recollection of this brings Shouto back to the present. And it makes him start to feel displaced. He’s in this space that is supposed to be his yet isn’t. 

He suddenly feels like a weirdo creep slinking around Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki’s apartment, examining his photos and decor choices.

A shiver of distaste runs through Shouto. He turns away from the wall and heads towards the kitchen. He walks past the table and stops in the small archway. Bakugou is there, back to Shouto, stirring something on the stove. He’s in plain clothes now, ashy grey hair white blond again and just slightly wet.

“Hey,” Shouto says.

“Fuck!” Bakugou startles, spoon clattering against the pot. He turns over his shoulder, “Why are your footsteps always so freakily quiet, Sho?”

Shouto bites down a laugh, “What are you making?”

“Why are you up? You should be resting.”

“It smells good. What is it?”

Bakugou sighs, neither of them answering the other, and then finally says, “You need some nutrients. Loaded this soup up with plenty of veggies and protein.”

Shouto wrinkles his nose, “You didn’t put–”

“I didn’t add celery, I know, I know. But you’re eating all the radish to make up for it, alright?” Bakugou says.

Shouto nods. He’s pleased to find that it's less stiff than before too. Bakugou does a quick scan of Shouto, eyes flitting over his clothed arm and torso, clearly looking for any signs of discomfort. Shouto examines him right back.

Now that Bakugou’s not covered in that layer of soot, Shouto can tell he’s grown older than Shouto remembers. Not by a lot, but his face has lost whatever last bits of baby fat had clung to it at 24, jaw chiseled and free of blemishes. His hair is cut closer to his head, shorn at the sides but the top still has that unruly nature it always carries.

Bakugou’s eyes reach Shouto’s own face. Apparently he doesn’t find anything out of order, so he turns back to the soup.

Shouto can’t help but trail his eyes downwards. Bakugou is in comfortable clothes, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, but it’s clear he hasn’t lost his muscle mass. Probably only gained more, Shouto can only assume. His back is chiseled like a dream, even in this loose fitting shirt his shoulders are broad and strong.

Shouto swallows. He grew up well. Maybe too well, honestly. Shouto already thinks he’s attractive at 23, and this more mature version of him is perhaps even more captivating. Shouto can only hope he hasn’t made a fool of himself since he and Bakugou started living together.

That would be so embarrassing.

In an effort to stop his brain from spiraling, Shouto asks, “Is it almost done?”

Bakugou laughs lightly, “Yeah, yeah, princess, hold your horses. Think you can manage to grab some bowls?”

“S’long as I use my left arm,” Shouto says.

He walks to the cabinets next to Bakugou and opens the leftmost one, pulling down two of their soup bowls. Next he opens the drawer below the counter and takes out two spoons. He places them in the bowls and grabs two glasses from the next cabinet over. Finally he turns to grab two placemats from their spot above the refrigerator and pauses.

“Wait,” Shouto stops, “Did you tell me these were here?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“I just…I didn’t even have to think about it. I just got them,” he gestures to the bowls.

Bakugou looks at him and then looks at the bowls and finally back to Shouto. His expression shifts and a tiny smile graces his face.

“No, no I just assumed, I wasn’t thinking how you,” Bakugou rambles, his smile growing despite obviously trying to tamp it down, “I hadn't even thought to remind you.”

Shouto grins happily.

“You just need to grab one more of everything. Deku’s coming for dinner.”

Shouto does as he’s told and then carries it all out to the small table. He sets out the placemats and glasses, bringing the bowls back in to be filled.

“Want to get some food for Dumpster? See if you remember where it is.”

Shouto nods. Again, it’s like second nature when he goes to the cabinets beside the fridge. He opens the lower one, crouching with a wince. He takes out a can of food–chicken and salmon–and pops the lid open. As soon as the lid is opened, Rubble comes barreling into the kitchen on quick steps, meowing in excitement.

“This smells delicious, doesn’t it?” Shouto says to Rubble as he walks to Rubble’s food bowl and empties half the can inside.

Rubble voices his agreement. As he starts chowing down, Shouto moves away and goes to wrap the rest of the food for later. When he passes the fridge, he stops. There’s a magnetic calendar attached to it. It’s another confirmation that this really is Shouto’s apartment, because the calendar is filled in with his own neat penmanship. 

It’s displaying the whole month of October and various days have been written over. There’s a few that just say “Shouto home late” and “Katsuki home late” which he assumes mean they’re at their respective agencies late those days. Friday of this week he’s written “Movie Night”. 

On the 16th he’s written “Kirishima’s Birthday” and drew little balloons. He smiles and traces his left hand over the black ink. Directly under that one week later he’s written “Date Night” with a heart. Shouto stares.

He trails his hand down and over that ink now, tracing the heart. Date Night. Someone is having date night at the end of the month and it must be important. It’s on the calendar. 

A noise from behind him draws his attention. He looks over to see Bakugou scowling at the calendar. Shouto suddenly feels like he’s seen something he shouldn’t. He turns around fully. 

The doorbell rings and both Shouto and Bakugou look at each other before Shouto says, “I’ll get it.”

Bakugou starts to protest but Shouto cuts him off, “I can walk, you know.” and he goes back to the living room.

He opens the door and Midoriya is standing there, also showered and in clean clothes.

“Oh! Todoroki, how are you feeling?” he asks, looking Shouto up and down.

“Okay. I remembered Rubble right away. And I knew the kitchen layout all on my own.”

Midoriya breaks out into a huge grin, “That’s great! It’s already helping then. Oh, yeah,” he reaches out, offering a bag from the pharmacy, “I stopped and picked up your meds for you.”

Shouto thanks him and takes the bag as he lets Midoriya in. Midoriya kicks his shoes off in the genkan, toeing them into a straighter line, and then hangs his jacket before heading into the kitchen.

The ease in which he makes his way through the space strikes Shouto. He’s visibly more comfortable than Shouto has felt since he arrived, and it’s supposed to be his home. It makes Shouto frown. 

He trails after Midoriya into the kitchen.

“Hey, thanks for grabbing those, Deku,” Bakugou says as he spoons some soup into the bowls.

“Course,” Midoriya says.

Shouto stares at them. From his spot in the archway he once again can only see Bakugou’s back. Midoriya goes to the fridge which is against the right wall, so he can see Midoriya’s profile illuminated by the fridge light. He gets out a carton of juice. When he shuts the door, Shouto notices the calendar is gone.

“Here,” Bakugou says to Midoriya.

Midoriya walks the few steps over, accepting a bowl of food with hardly a glance.

It’s such a simple act, just passing over dinner, but the comfortability of it hits Shouto like a brick. Bakugou didn’t look at Midoriya either. Midoriya reaches around Bakugou to grab a handful of napkins with the hand still holding the carton. Neither say anything. Shouto can’t tell if Midoriya’s chest is pressed against Bakugou’s back. He doesn’t know if he wants to know.

Shouto has to step out of the way so Midoriya can go to the table. He sits in the center blue chair. Without a second thought. Like it’s his spot.

“C’mon, Halfie,” Bakugou says, startling him. The corner of his mouth quirks up as he looks at Shouto.

Shouto follows.

Bakugou himself carries two bowls over and places them at the table. Shouto sits across from Bakugou with Midoriya beside him. They start eating.

Shouto stirs his soup slowly, watching the pieces of beef and vegetables float in the broth. He pushes his vegetables around the bowl but scoops up some broth and beef.

“Don’t try to be sneaky, I know what you’re doing,” Bakugou warns.

Shouto flushes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beside him, Midoriya chuckles.

Shouto glances up, looking at Bakugou through his hair. Bakugou is looking down at his own bowl now. He lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a spoonful of soup, and starts to glance up. Shouto darts his eyes away.

Something brushes against his leg under the table and Shouto feels the warm fur of Rubble rub against his ankles.

“So,” Midoriya starts, “knowing Dumpster Rubble and getting down those bowls and everything is a good sign. You just remembered the kitchen layout without thinking about it, right?”

Shouto nods, “Yeah. I guess since I’ve lived here for…how long have I lived here again?”
“Almost two years,” Bakugou answers.

“It’s probably muscle memory. Do we usually cook together a lot?” Shouto asks.

“I cook. You set the table.”

“I make you do all the cooking?” Shouto asks in surprise.

Bakugou scoffs, “You don’t make me do shit. I cook because I want to. And I hate washing dishes, which is your specialty in the kitchen if we don’t want you burning the house down.”

Midoriya laughs again.

Shouto wishes he understood the joke. He begrudgingly scoops some radishes onto his spoon. His eyes flit up to look at Bakugou, to find he’s already looking at him. Shouto subtly shows the contents of his spoon to Bakugou before eating it. Bakugou grins.

Shouto’s stomach swoops. 

“Do you think there’s anything we should talk about? To try and get my memories back?” he asks, ignoring the feelings in his chest.

Bakugou and Midoriya look at each other. 

“Maybe we can start with what caused all of this?” he adds.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Midoriya says, “like we were saying in the hospital, it was supposed to be a simple bank robbery. So you went alone.”

“Right.”

Midoriya continues, “There was an ambush and you called for backup, which is when we arrived. There were like, a dozen villains and you’d already got two captured. We all split up. Everything was going fine. It should have been fine.”

He glances at Bakugou. Shouto does too.

Bakugou sighs, “There was this one villain. They had a fire quirk too.”

Shouto’s blood runs cold. He pictures Dabi, those blue flames that he can still feel at night.

“They weren’t even that strong, is the thing. I shouldn’t have been…I shouldn’t have gotten jumped by them.”

“It’s not your fault,” Midoriya interjects quickly.

Bakugou scoffs, “If I had seen them, he wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

It’s said through gritted teeth, and Shouto can tell already it isn’t the first time Bakugou and Midoriya have spoken about it today.

“I got hit? By what?” Shouto asks.

He can’t recall any of this.

Midoriya begins again, “We’d gotten almost all the villains captured but there were three left. The fire quirk, a scorpion quirk, and a bubble quirk. I was focused on the bubble quirk. I had them subdued and was about to cuff them. When…” he looks back to Bakugou.

“When I fucked up.”

“You did not fuck up,” Midoriya spits out, glaring at Bakugou.

The pair of them glare at one another. Shouto swallows roughly. 

“Look,” Bakugou turns his stare at Shouto, “I wasn’t paying attention. Alright? I got distracted and you had to rescue me. Except the scorpion guy, he got you. Slammed into you and you dropped. Like, seven stories. Maybe more, I don’t know.”

Shouto blanches, the aches in his body finally making sense.

“Stop it, Kacchan,” Midoriya mutters.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Bakugou mutters back angrily, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Shouto is trying to process it all through their limited explanation. It isn’t like Bakugou to get distracted during a mission. Shouto knows that for a fact.

“Hold on.” Shouto scolds, “You have to explain yourselves better, okay? How am I supposed to know what happened if you’re not actually telling me?” 

A pause.

“You’re right,” Midoriya says.

“Okay. Fine,” Bakugou rubs a hand down his face. When he moves it, his face is tinged pink. “You know the bank on Cherry Street? With the glass doors?” 

Shouto nods.

“That’s where we were. I went after the fire quirk user who was on the roof of the bank. They were shit at hand to hand combat and I swore I knocked them out,” Bakugou’s eyes darken, “I used my last pair of cuffs on another guy, so I didn’t have anything to put them in. And you were like, six yards away going after the scorpion guy.”

Shouto tries to picture it. He knows the bank, knows the street vividly. Roughly six yards from the bank is an office building. That’s probably where the scorpion guy was.

“You were going up on one of your ice spike things, chasing after him. I was–I was watching you,” Bakugou flushes but he doesn’t look away from Shouto, “I yelled some stupid shit at you, and you looked at me. Except the fire quirk guy was up. I didn’t know because I was staring at you.”

“They threw one of their shitty smoke balls at me. Couldn’t see fuck all. You shot an icicle right at them, like dead on. Knocked them out for real that time. And that’s when the scorpion guy got you. He used his tail and…fuck,” Bakugou drops his head into his hands.

Shouto watches him, taken aback, as Bakugou sniffles and wipes furiously at his eyes.

“The scorpion quirk hit you in the head with their tail,” Midoriya picks up where Bakugou stopped, “and you went unconscious. You weren’t able to keep hold of the ice. You plummeted. Fell hard on your own ice. Slid the rest of the way down. It was…bad. You didn’t look good.”

Shouto lets out a deep breath. He looks down at himself. Still swathed in the grey sweatsuit but sore to his bones. He lifts up his right sleeve. The bandages are spotted with his blood, he’s due for a change soon. There’s bruising all around it. He hadn’t wanted to look when he was getting changed in the hospital, he didn’t want to see the damage. But now he’s terribly curious.

Shouto looks back up. Bakugou is staring into his soup, a hand holding his forehead so his face is obstructed. Midoriya is watching Shouto with teary eyes. 

Shouto’s heart hurts. He can’t let them feel like this.

“I guess,” Shouto says, “I got the ice portion of treating a bruise started right away.”

Bakugou snorts, the sound more wet than normal, and he looks up at Shouto with red rimmed eyes. But he’s smiling for the first time since the conversation started. 

“You’re so lame,” Bakugou laughs, “Eat your soup.”

Shouto grins and digs back into the soup, Midoriya laughing quietly. The three of them eat for the next few minutes. Every so often, Shouto glances up at Bakugou. He doesn’t look upset any longer.

Each glance makes Shouto feel strange though. Like he’s expecting something from Bakugou. As if he needs Bakugou to look at him. And that thought makes him feel even more strange.

“I talked to the agency about your condition while I was there,” Midoriya speaks up again, ripping Shouto from his anxieties, “they think it’d be best for now, you know, until you get your memories back, that you stay home. Definitely ‘til you physically heal but, yeah, the memories too.”

Shouto frowns but he nods. He was expecting this. He can’t fight in this condition, and even PR could be disastrous with his missing memories. He does latch on to one part of the story that peaks his interest.

“We still work together?” Shouto asks him, giddy.

Midoriya nods, bouncy energy suddenly radiating off of him in a rush.

“We’ve been talking about starting our own company,” Midoriya gushes, leaning closer to Shouto.

Shouto perks up, sitting up straighter. “Really? Since when?”

Midoriya grins, “Since last summer. After Kacchan left his agency.”

Shouto looks at Bakugou fully this time. He’s watching this conversation with a lazy smile.

“Who do you work for now?”

“Myself. Building my own company brick by brick.”

Shouto can’t help but feel impressed. Bakugou really is setting out to do what he’s always said he would.

“That’s impressive. I’m proud of you, Bakugou.” Shouto says earnestly.

Bakugou looks surprised for a moment before he schools his features and mumbles, “Yeah, well, thanks. The two of you have been saying you want to join.”

“And is that okay?” Shouto looks between the two of them, both of them nodding immediately.

Shouto can’t help but smile, feeling it blossom over his face.

“That’s…that’s perfect. Thanks, Bakugou,” he says, warmth flowing through his body.

Bakugou’s face is beginning to flush under Shouto’s stare. It makes Shouto want to tease him, to ruffle his hair and squeeze his face in his hands. Now his own face starts to heat up but he doesn’t even care. 

“Like I’ve said before,” Bakugou says gruffly, “we’d be the best fucking agency if we finally teamed up.”

Shouto can’t stop smiling, staring at Bakugou with unfiltered happiness at the prospect. Clearly it’s something they’ve discussed before, but it’s news to Shouto. The best news, truly, having an agency with his two best friends.

Bakugou finally looks away, his ears bright red. He stands up abruptly, mumbling something to himself. He begins clearing the table, carrying his bowl into the kitchen. Rubble runs after him. Midoriya shakes his head with a small laugh. He and Shouto start to clean up as well.

“Don’t even think about moving, Halfie, I got it,” Bakugou says as he walks back in.

“But I’m–”

“Don’t,” Bakugou warns.

Shouto doesn’t.

The other two finish clearing the table while Shouto sits there.

“How are you feeling?” Midoriya asks Shouto once they’re done.

Shouto evaluates himself. He’s sort of tired and sore still, but the meds are pretty strong. The pain isn’t unbearable. He can feel it, yes, but it’s not like before. Now that he’s just been sitting around and no longer hungry, he wants to check out his injuries for himself.

“I think I’d like to shower,” Shouto says.

“Yeah, yeah sure. Do you need help? Or anything?” Midoriya asks, turning around to look at Bakugou.

“I don’t think so.” Shouto says.

“You know where the bathroom is?” Bakugou asks.

“Yeah, top of the stairs, right?”

Bakugou nods. Then he shifts on his feet. He glances at Midoriya and then pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. He shifts again, clasping and unclasping his hands. 

“I’ll just come with you, actually.” Bakugou says after another moment of fidgeting, “Make sure you get the towels and stuff.”

Something is off. Again.

“Okay. Sure,” Shouto says.

He follows Bakugou up the stairs. His hands are stuffed in his pockets now. It reminds Shouto of when they were in school. 

At least these stairs are easier to climb than the ones outside. Shouto isn’t out of breath at all this time. They turn at the top of the stairs to the closet there, and Shouto reaches out and opens it, grabbing a towel.

“I don’t know if I knew they’d be here, or if I assumed,” Shouto admits.

“Makes sense, you know, location wise,” Bakugou answers. He clears his throat, “Oh, and. Your bedroom. It’s this one.”

He points to the middle door further down the hall.

“Kirishima’s old one, right?”

Bakugou nods, glancing off to the side.

“Do you want to, like, look at it? Or something?” Bakugou asks.

Shouto stares at the closed door for a moment. Something starts to swirl in his stomach, anxiety rolling. He suddenly doesn’t want anyone nearby when he opens that door for the first time.

“No. It’s fine.” Shouto says.

At the opposite end of the hall, about five feet away, is another door. He knows from previous visits that that is Bakugou’s room. He also knows that that bedroom has a bathroom inside. Kirishima didn’t mind giving up the larger bedroom, and it seems like Shouto didn’t either.

He turns away from that door and looks to the bathroom.

“The bathroom is there, I know that.” 

He’s right, and the bathroom is just like he remembers. Well, without the red hand towels that were Kirishima’s. These ones are white. It reminds Shouto of a hotel in a way, perfectly pressed and everything on the counter in a neat line. One toothbrush in its holder, toothpaste, face wash, and lotion are the only things on display.

The whole bathroom is neat and tidy too, not just the sink. It starts to give Shouto an eerie vibe, but he doesn’t know how to explain it so instead he says nothing.

“Alright, well,” Bakugou says, that same gruff voice he’s been using. Shouto’s starting to realize he’s using it when he’s uncomfortable, or maybe embarrassed. “Well, you know how to shower, so. Yell if you need me.”

And Bakugou heads back to the hall, shutting the door behind him. Shouto is alone for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He slides open the shower door, the glass easily moving so he can turn on the water. It takes several minutes of fussing with the knobs. He can’t figure out which one is for the hot or cold water so he keeps turning them both up and down uselessly while the temperature hardly seems to fluctuate. After a couple more tries he decides to give up. He’ll just regulate his body temperature when he gets in.

Shouto peels off his shirt, sucking in a breath at the sharp pain when he lifts his arm. He lets it fall onto the floor and then glances up in the mirror. A small gasp of air leaves his mouth unintentionally. 

His body looks like a painted watercolor canvas, all deep purples and blues across the entirety of his right side. He looks down at his body instead of through the mirror.The bruising spans along the curve of his torso, from his rib cage down to his hip. He shifts his pants lower to examine the damage there. It continues down his thigh. 

He strips off the rest of his clothes and stares in disbelief. His body is not just covered in bruises–his ribs down to his knee–but there are numerous scars Shouto has no recollection of. 

He trails a hand delicately down his body, tracing the scars across his torso. There’s one, just below his left rib cage, that makes him pause. He remembers this injury. In fact, it had just happened to him. He’d been sliced by a concealed knife. It hadn’t done any major damage but apparently the scar is there almost four years later.

It’s a lot to take in. His body looks so similar yet so different than he remembers. He’s older too, now that he’s in front of a mirror. He leans in closer and examines his face. Just like Bakugou, the differences aren't glaringly obvious. It’s not like he lost a hundred pounds or gained a lifetime of wrinkles. But there are subtle differences made apparent when the last time Shouto looked in the mirror he was 23.

He’s due for a shave, and it’s no longer patchy in places that he remembers. There was a perpetually stubborn spot on the left side of his face that would never grow in, but he can see the beginnings of hair starting to come through. His eye bags aren’t as deep as they used to be. He must be getting a good amount of sleep lately. Maybe his nightmares have lessened. God, he hopes so.

His hair is a little bit longer too. Nothing egregious, he would have realized that back in the hospital if he had hair past his shoulders. But the back is longer than his collar, brushing his neck with every movement now that the sweater is off.

He looks down at his right arm and the bandages there. It’s not his first time showering with a bandaged wound, and he assumes they keep the bathroom supplied with some things he can use. He crouches down to open the cabinet under the sink and finds exactly what he’s looking for. He grabs a plastic bag and tape and begins trying to secure it over his bandage. 

It’s a struggle. He can only use one hand and even though he’s ambidextrous it’s difficult. It hurts to put too much pressure on his wound so he can’t use his arm as an anchoring point either.

Shouto lets out a huff of air. He grabs his sweatpants and tugs them back on. Then he opens the door. He debates who to call for a second. But, Bakugou had offered, and they are roommates now. And, something in him is saying to call Bakugou and not Midoriya.

“Bakugou?”

A pause.

“Yeah?”
“Can you come here for a minute?”

It’s hardly a second later that Shouto sees him coming up the stairs. He opens the door a little wider and lets him in.

“I can’t get this covered,” Shouto explains with a hint of embarrassment.

Bakugou looks down, and Shouto sees his eyes flit over Shouto’s torso and the way they widen. Bakugou must have seen it already, back at the hospital, but Shouto understands. It’s jarring.

“Here, hold out your arm,” Bakugou says.

Shouto does so, and the way Bakugou holds onto him is so delicate, so gentle, it makes Shouto’s breath stutter.

“Okay?” Bakugou asks.

Shouto just nods in response.

Bakugou fits the plastic bag over Shouto’s hand and up his forearm. He lets go of Shouto’s arm and tears an opening at the top, allowing Shouto’s hand to come free. Then he tears off two long pieces of tape, wrapping one around the bag over Shouto’s wrist to close the opening there and the other just below his elbow to seal it there as well.

“When you’re done, we’ll change the bandage, okay?” Bakugou says.

His voice is gentle too. Shouto hasn’t regained his breathing since Bakugou first touched him. He feels all out of whack.

“Yes, yes, um, okay.”

Bakugou looks him in the eyes then, and grins. It’s simultaneously sweet but teasing, like he knows what Shouto was just thinking.

Shouto flushes. 

“Can you,” he starts without an end goal, his mouth faster than his brain, “um, can you help with the water? I can’t get it hot enough.”

Bakugou chuckles, “You’re not gonna just use your quirk to relegate it? You always give me shit for saying the water is too cold like you forget not everyone can fix it internally,” Bakugou teases as he brushes past Shouto, their shoulders grazing each other.

Shouto watches him, brain ticking.

“Do we have a bad water heater?”

“What?” Bakugou calls over his shoulder as he adjusts the left knob.

“How do I know you complain about the water temperature?”

Bakugou tenses. He stays slightly hunched over, not moving for a few seconds before straightening up.

He doesn’t turn around as he replies, “I guess it’s just come up.”

And there it is again, that voice. The weird one. Whatever playful, teasing energy they just had has left the room. Shouto regrets asking.

Bakugou turns slightly when he passes Shouto this time, making sure they don’t touch.

Before he can stop himself, Shouto reaches out and holds onto Bakugou’s wrist. They both stop.

He isn't sure why he grabbed him but he has and now he has to do something about it.

“I’ll call you if I need anything else, okay?” Shouto says. He lets go of Bakugou’s wrist.

Bakugou stares at him for a beat and then he says, “Sure thing, Halfie,” and he shuts the door behind him.

Shouto once again takes off his pants and then opens the shower door. He closes it quickly behind him and then just stands under the water stream for a few moments. He breathes in the steam deeply, sighing out the weird tension that had just enveloped the room. He focuses on the calming feeling of the warm water caressing his bruised skin.

Shouto does his best to keep his right arm out of the stream as he begins to shower. On his left is a small shelf built into the shower wall. He looks at it and is pleasantly surprised to see the shower products he always uses are there. He grabs the shampoo and opens it, breathing in the familiar citrusy scent. He breathes in again and sighs contently, the orangey scent filling his senses.

He squirts some into his palm and then lathers his hair with it. He doesn’t use his right arm to help, less worried about the bag and more worried about the pain of lifting his arm up. It’s slightly awkward to shower with just one arm but he washes his hair and body, lathering up his loofa with the same vanilla soap he always uses.

It’s extremely calming to him to be surrounded with the warm water and fresh scents he recognizes. When he closes his eyes, it’s like nothing is wrong at all. He hadn’t realized what a toll this whole situation has taken on him. The bruising, yes. But in this moment that oozes familiarity he realizes just how drained he feels from simply not remembering things.

He tries not to think of all these questions he has and just focus on the familiar, but it’s hard. His mind drifts to the dinner conversation. Bakugou said he had been distracted (unusual). And distracted by Shouto (even more unusual). He said he’d yelled something at Shouto and of course he has no recollection of what was yelled. Unfortunately he’s desperate to know, but he hadn’t brought it up at dinner and he isn’t sure he wants to put both Bakugou and Midoriya back through the emotional ringer it seemed to be.

Shouto exhales and tries to clear his mind. He breathes in the comforting scents and begins to rinse off.

Once he’s finally done with his shower he turns off the water and steps out, reaching for his towel and carefully drying off. The towel is slightly harsh on his bruised skin so he keeps his touch light. He discards the plastic bag and tape from around his arm. Then he wraps the towel around his waist and walks to his room.

The peaceful feeling fades as he stands outside his bedroom door. He braces himself and then opens it. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Best case scenario there’s going to be a flood of memories that bombard him. Worst case, only a memory or two.

But he isn’t expecting the absolute nothingness that fills him. He has no reaction to opening this door. No memories flood his brain. He steps inside with a frown. He recognizes his bed, yes, because it’s the same bed frame he’s had since he moved in with Midoriya. The dresser in the corner of the room is his, a warm wood that matches the bedside tables and the desk as well. All four pieces had come in a set and Shouto was very proud of himself when he’d made this purchase. The room is neat. Clean.

It makes Shouto feel unmoored. 

He walks to the dresser where two framed photos sit. He picks up the first one. It’s a picture of Shouto, Natsuo, and Fuyumi. It’s a close up photo of the three of them sitting side by side at a table. Shouto in the middle and a cake in front of him with a ‘26’ candle stuck in it. It’s clearly a candid shot, the three of them in various states of laughter. Natsuo’s eyes are shut and his head is thrown back in laughter. Fuyumi is leaned closer to Shouto, looking at Natsuo and grinning unabashedly. Shouto himself is smiling softly down at Fuyumi. It’s a cute photo even though Shouto has no memory of this moment.

The second photo there is of Shouto and his friends. He picks that one up and examines it next. This one is a posed photo, the group of them standing with arms slung over each other. Shouto stands in the middle with Midoriya on one side and Ochako on the other. Iida is next to her, with Momo on his other side. Midoriya has an arm around Tsui next to him. The background is…familiar. He looks closer. 

It’s some sort of castle it seems like. The streets are cobblestoned and there’s some kind of forest off the side. It’s weird. Shouto recognizes it, but also doesn’t. He puts the photo down and turns back to the room.

That same uncomfortable feeling fills him as his eyes sweep over the room again. And it hits him why it feels so strange.

The room is as impersonal as the hospital room he’d spent the day in. Sure, it’s his furniture and his bedding, but it doesn’t feel like Shouto. At most, he remembers it as Kirishima’s room. But that was months (years!) ago now, and he’d only seen it one time when he was given the house tour. Kirishima’s room had felt like Kirishima, with various kanji prints on the wall with morals on them. This room doesn’t even feel lived in, let alone like Shouto’s.

There’s no clothes hanging about, nothing scattered on his desk or dresser. There’s nothing aside from his furniture or photos that make this Shouto’s. 

He strides over to the closet door and pulls it open. There are a few dress shirts, three suits (a black, a white, and a navy blue), and several pairs of slacks hanging. There is a rack on the inside of the door that holds numerous ties with different designs and colors. The floor has several pairs of shoes Shouto assumes he does not wear often. None of it is familiar.

He turns around again with a huff, pulling out different clothes to wear. He dresses in another pair of sweatpants but does not put on a shirt. He takes one out and carries it. Then he hangs his towel on the handle of his closet to dry. He glances around the room one more time before making his way down the stairs.

The stairway comes down behind the couch, where Bakugou and Midoriya are now sitting. They’re having a hushed conversation but Shouto is too singularly focused on his own plan to think to eavesdrop. He says as he comes up behind them, “I have some questions.”

He stops in front of them, in between the couch and the coffee table. Midoriya winces as Shouto comes into view.

“I figured, since we live together,” he motions to Bakugou, “and you and I are best friends,” he motions to Midoriya, “you two would probably know where most of these scars came from.”

He points to the one he recognized, “I know this one. It happened just a few weeks ago in my brain, I got stabbed by a concealed knife. This bruising,” he waves a hand across his right side, “is obviously from today. But what about this?”

He points to a curved slash on his waist.

“Wasn’t that from the katana guy?” Midoriya muses.

“Stain?” Shouto asks in surprise.

“No, not him,” Midoriya laughs, “this guy wasn’t nearly as precise.”

“Yeah, you got hit only once, he’d snuck up behind you. Knocked the weapon away and cuffed him right after,” Bakugou says.

Shouto nods, pleased, and gestures to a more jagged looking one. It’s above his left hip so he lowers his pants slightly, the full scar coming into view. It’s about three inches long and two inches wide.

“That’s from some lady with a crab quirk,” Bakugou says, “if you turn around,” Shouto turns around, “yep, there you go. Matching set.”

Shouto peers over his back. He hadn’t seen this before but it’s there. A matching scar of the exact shape and size.

“She’d lifted you up with one of her claws and kind of shook you around,” Bakugou explains.

Midoriya snorts out a laugh that has Shouto whipping his head back.

“Sorry, Todoroki,” Midoriya says, “but it was kind of hilarious. She secreted some kind of acid which is why it scarred like that, but you were laughing afterwards too!”

Bakugou nods, smirking.

Shouto huffs and rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile at his friend's joy—even at his expense. He points to one on his right hand next. This one looks like a small circle, the paler scarred skin in between his thumb and index finger.

The two on the couch peer closer and then Bakugou laughs.

“That’s not from a villain attack, that was you trying to cook for me. And that’s exactly why you’re on dish washing duty.”

Shouto’s mouth drops open and he brings his hand closer to his eyes. 

“Self inflicted…” he murmurs, which makes the other two laugh. “What was I cooking?”

Bakugou hums, “Curry. It didn’t come out bad, honestly, it just took you half the day and half a box of bandaids later.”

Shouto can’t believe it, “Am I really that hopeless in the kitchen?”

Bakugou snorts, his expression softer than Shouto would think for teasing him, “It was an exaggeration, Halfie. Well, the bandaids were. You only used two. But it did actually take you half your day off to cook it.”

Shouto huffs out a laugh. It sounds like him, to not give up even if something is clearly not going in his favor. Which…

“Why was I so intent on cooking for you?”

Bakugou’s lips twist to the side as he lets out another hum of thought. Midoriya squeaks beside him, glancing at Bakugou quite unsubtly since Shouto is standing right there.

“You were cooking because I always do, so you wanted to surprise me as a thank you,” Bakugou says a second later.

Shouto thinks for a moment. It makes sense. Midoriya’s reaction is odd but since Shouto is missing four years of memories, he supposes that makes sense too. Maybe there’s a whole backlog of Shouto messing up in the kitchen by now. Or him trying to surprise his friends. He simply doesn’t know.

His eyes linger on Bakugou and Bakugou’s eye contact doesn’t waver.

“Alright then,” Shouto moves on, staring down at his own body, “I think that’s all of them.” His eyes catch on a smaller, oval bruise just below his right pec. He hadn’t noticed that before, probably due to the heavy amount of bruising already on that side, but this one looks different. Older.

“Wait. I didn’t see this before,” he says, squinting down at it and placing his hand on his chest and pressing down on his chest to try and get a better look. It’s in an odd place, he’s surprised he even caught it. “What the hell…” he murmurs, trying to get a good look. “What is that?”

He looks up at his friends and is taken aback by their expressions. Both of them are red faced, Midoriya as bright as a tomato and seemingly looking anywhere but at Shouto while Bakugou’s eyes are fixed on that spot, jaw clenched and pupils blown.

Shouto looks back down and immediately feels like he’s been drenched with cold water. Oh god. It’s a fucking hickey. And Shouto’s just been groping at himself to try and get a better look at this human made bite mark on him and asking his friends for help! 

He didn’t even know he was sleeping with anyone!

“Oh, I didn’t—I hadn’t seen it before. I just saw it now, I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s fine!” Midoriya interjects, which would be a saving grace if Midoriya wasn’t a known rambler, “I didn’t even realize what it was at first, haha. I was like, oh wow! Another bruise! It’s probably from the fall. I wasn’t thinking about you and K—can’t even think of a name! Not anyone in particular!”

“Fucking hell,” Bakugou finally interrupts, a hand trailing down his face, “Icyhot has a hickey, the hell are you guys being freaks about it for? You got any other questions or what?”

He addresses that last part specifically to Shouto. Bakugou’s tone is dismissive but he looks simultaneously like he’s trying not to laugh and also wants to hide. 

Shouto shakes his head no. He can feel his own face is flaming red and he pumps his ice quirk internally. He wants to ask if either of them know who left this…mark on him but both of their reactions are screaming that he shouldn’t. 

So Shouto doesn’t.

“Let’s change your bandage then,” Bakugou says and he gets up from the couch.

Shouto watches him walk back towards the kitchen and he comes back a few seconds later with a first aid kit.

“Sit,” Bakugou says with a gesture to the couch next to Midoriya.

Shouto does, dropping his shirt onto his lap.

“Do you want to take it off or you want me to?” Bakugou asks.

Shouto is about to respond, about to ask Bakugou to do it, when his brain short circuits. Bakugou drops to his knees in front of him, in that small space between the couch and the coffee table. He’s looking up at Shouto in wait, one eyebrow cocked, and Shouto feels a swirl of heat burst into existence in his gut.

He swallows roughly, trying to find his voice. His eyes flit across Bakugou, now sitting against his shins, his hands in his lap, waiting patiently.

Bakugou watches the movement and clear understanding passes over his face. Both his eyebrows shoot up before he fixes his face into a more neutral expression. His eyes jot down to the still stupidly visible hickey on Shouto’s chest and he bites his bottom lip to stave off a smirk.

It does not help Shouto’s predicament.

“I’m just gonna—go to the kitchen,” Midoriya says from beside him and oh fuck Midoriya is here. He jumps up and is gone.

“You alright, Sho?” Bakugou asks in a low voice, and Shouto has a very real and very strong fight or flight response.

He almost runs after Midoriya, arm twitching in his lap. He takes a deep breath.

“I—yes. Yes.”

“Give me your hand,” Bakugou murmurs, holding out his own in wait.

Shouto lifts his left hand before snatching it back and offering his right, injured arm. It makes Bakugou huff out a laugh and give Shouto another one of those soft expressions. 

Much like he had in the bathroom, Bakugou holds Shouto’s arm with careful consideration. His touch is soft but sure, letting his left arm cup the underside of Shouto’s forearm and turning it gently up. He then rests his arm against Shouto’s thighs.

Shouto cannot deal with this at all actually. The Bakugou he remembers is different, not so gentle and teasing with him. Okay, teasing yes. But not like this, not this innuendo and smirking glances teasing. And not these delicate touches across Shouto’s skin. This is making Shouto’s heart do somersaults and lighting a fire deep in his gut. 

Bakugou removes the bandage carefully, revealing a neatly stitched five inch gash on the underside of his forearm. Shouto stares at them, a swirl of emotions flooding him. Shock, fear, a little bit of confusion. Disbelief that he can’t even remember what happened but he’s left with such vivid proof of it.

“It looks good,” Bakugou says.

Shouto nods. There’s no obvious signs of infection or any type of uncleanliness in the wound. There is some dried blood around the stitching and more bruising but overall it doesn’t look bad. Bakugou gets to work on carefully wiping away the dried blood while also not saturating the stitches. Once that is done he takes out a new strip of gauze and begins rebandaging the wound.

“We can uncover it either tomorrow or the next day,” Bakugou says back to his normal voice.

“Okay.”

Thankfully, Shouto’s breathing has returned to normal and his heart rate decreases. Apparently staring at a wound is the perfect vibe killer, although Shouto can’t be sure what the vibe even was exactly. Just as Bakugou is finishing up, Midoriya walks back out.

“I got your pills for you,” he says as he walks back over to them.

Bakugou is standing now and he heads off to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage. Shouto makes a split second decision. He couldn’t ask Bakugou—could barely talk to Bakugou a moment ago—but Midoriya will probably know anyway.

“Midoriya,” Shouto whispers, “do you know who did this?”

He points to the hickey on his chest.

Midoriya’s face steadily begins to grow red and he looks to the kitchen. The tap turns on, Bakugou presumably washing his hands.

“Umm, I don’t know if I do,” Midoriya answers. It’s high pitched and squeaky.

He’s always been a terrible liar.

Shouto’s stomach ties itself in a knot. Doctor Hong had said to avoid big revelations. Or at least be cautious about them. Either this is that, or Midoriya genuinely doesn’t know (unlikely).

Shouto might actually set himself on fire if he keeps thinking about it, so he decides to drop the subject for now. He pulls the shirt in his lap over his head. Midoriya looks relieved.

“I take one before bed and one when I wake up?” Shouto asks, reaching for the pills.

“Every twelve hours. The one you took at the hospital should help you for tonight and then you can start the clock when you wake up.”

Bakugou walks back in, stifling a yawn as he comes up to them.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” Bakugou says to Midoriya.

“Yeah, of course,” Midoriya answers and slowly cuts himself off with his own yawn. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” Midoriya says.

Shouto looks at the clock. It’s already past midnight.

“How are you feeling?” Bakugou asks Shouto.

“I could fall asleep right here,” Shouto answers, frowning a bit. He feels like all he’s done today is sleep, but he’s still tired.

Midoriya nods, “You’ve been through a lot today. I should probably head out.”

Bakugou looks at Midoriya, “Do you want to stay—”

“No, because—” Midoriya’s eyes glance at Shouto.

“Oh shit, yeah. You could…?” Bakugou gestures to the couch.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m not too far anyway.” 

Shouto watches them and feels something strange shift in his brain. Tentative understanding.

Midoriya turns back to Shouto, “I’ll try and stop by again tomorrow. Just message me if you need anything.”

Shouto nods.

“Don’t try and play the hero,” Bakugou scoffs, “I’ll be here if he needs something. You’re the last resort.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes but doesn’t seem to care to respond.

Shouto gets up despite the protests to walk Midoriya to the door. All three of them stand at the genkan as Midoriya gets his shoes on. Something shifts in the air as he does up his laces. 

Shouto glances between Bakugou and Midoriya. Bakugou looks increasingly stressed, biting his lip again and looking like he wants to say something. Midoriya just seems unsure. Like he is debating leaving or staying.

Things continue to become clearer in Shouto’s mind.

“Okay,” Midoriya breathes out as he straightens up, “Todoroki, text me when you wake up. And call if you need me,” he reiterates.

Shouto nods again.

“He’s not gonna be alone, Deku,” Bakugou says, “I’ll call in.”

Shouto’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Don’t call out sick for me,” he says.

All eyes turn to him.

“I have amnesia but I’m not helpless. There’s no reason either of you need to take off work just because of me. I can take care of myself.”

Midoriya and Bakugou look at each other again. Something in Bakugou’s face crumples—just slightly. He abruptly turns his head away from Shouto. 

Midoriya looks at Shouto and smiles tightly, “Whatever you think is best, Todoroki. Come here,” and he pulls Shouto into a hug.

It isn’t tight enough to hurt but his emotions come through clear as day.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispers into Shouto’s ear.

Shouto nods against his head. They separate and Midoriya turns to Bakugou.

“Kacchan,” he says.

“Don’t fucking hug me, loser.”

But his response is thick with emotion. It makes Shouto’s heart clench.

Midoriya doesn’t listen and he pulls Bakugou against him. This hug is tight, Shouto can see just how harshly they’re gripping each other. Bakugou’s hands fist into the back of Midoriya’s shirt. Midoriya’s own arms are tightly wrapped around Bakugou, pulling him close.

“Text me,” Midoriya whispers as they pull apart.

Bakugou nods and sniffles, wiping at his eyes.

Shouto looks away.

Midoriya calls out a final goodbye before leaving. Neither Shouto nor Bakugou move for a few moments. Shouto isn’t sure what to do. He watches Bakugou from his periphery. He’s back to the Bakugou Shouto doesn’t recognize. Quiet and nervous and a little bit teary.

Finally, Bakugou sighs next to him and turns around.

“You ready for bed?” Bakugou asks, voice monotone.

“Yes, I think so.” 

The air in the room is suddenly stiff. It’s as if the comfort and ease had slipped out into the night air along with Midoriya.

Shouto trails behind Bakugou as he turns off the lights in the living room, trails behind him up the stairs, and stops at his bedroom door while Bakugou continues further down. A sense of doom begins to overtake him.

Shouto shifts on his feet. Bakugou turns around.

His eyes are wet.

“Bakugou,” Shouto starts, feeling uneasy.

Bakugou’s expression melts into something much more wistful.

“Yeah?”

“I…um,” Shouto says. 

Bakugou’s eyebrows raise just slightly. Like he’s hopeful for something. It makes Shouto’s stomach twist.

“Thank you. For your help.” Shouto says.

It doesn’t feel right. This doesn't feel right, standing outside this door. But Shouto can’t explain why.

All he knows is his skin feels itchy and hot and Bakugou is watching him with that same expression from a moment ago.

“Of course, Icyhot. I’m here for you. Always,” Bakugou says softly.

The sincerity makes Shouto’s head spin.

“Good night,” Shouto says quietly.

“Night, Icyhot.”

Shouto breathes out and nods slightly to himself before he opens his bedroom door. Just as he anticipated, the eerie feeling only grows. He hears Bakugou open and close his door. And then he just…stands there. He just hovers in the doorway for a few moments, not moving. 

He about faces, looking at the now closed door Bakugou has gone into. He feels his entire body ache, reaching out to follow him.

Shouto scolds himself. He’s seeking out Bakugou for comfort because he feels restless. But Bakugou has already done too much for him, he deserves a quiet night alone in his own room. Not to comfort Shouto. 

And what does Shouto even want from Bakugou? A hug? Bakugou would laugh in his face. To share a bed? Just to be near him? He doesn’t even know how to explain that to himself. 

Shouto turns away from Bakugou’s door and goes to the bathroom. It doesn’t help his emotional state.

It gives the same uncanny feeling that his bedroom gave. It’s too pristine. Too clean. This bathroom doesn’t even have a speck of dust out of place.

He feels even more of a guest in these two rooms than he did in the living room or kitchen. Downstairs was filled with signs of life: his friends' photos, his own furniture, books on shelves, food in the pantries. Rubble. Even his own past memories.

But these two rooms don’t even seem lived in. They feel like showrooms, displaying a picturesque setting with nothing out of place. Shouto places his hands on the sink and lets out a shaky breath. He shuts his eyes tightly and lets out another, shakier breath. The sound of droplets hitting the ceramic countertop rings out in the room. Shouto rubs his eyes roughly.

He’s crying. 

Of course he’s crying. His face crumples even more, sniffling harshly and rubbing at his eyes. He turns on the faucet and blasts the water, letting the loud stream cover the sound of his hiccuping breaths.

Shouto sinks against the wall and hugs his knees to his chest. It isn’t even comfortable. His arm hurts and his right side is beginning to ache and the bruise on his knee is digging into the bruise on his chest. He tucks his face into his arms anyway. 

He isn’t a loud crier. Never has been. It’s always these shallow breaths and tears flowing nonstop. When his thoughts begin to turn to whether or not Bakugou can hear the faucet running and might come to investigate, Shouto wipes his face and stands up. He turns off the water and then numbly begins his night time routine.

His face is splotchy and his eyes are swollen. He decides he’s not going to look into the mirror anymore. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, moisturizes his scar, and brushes his hair. Everything in him feels completely worn out, like he’d just fought off a hundred villains and wasn’t done yet. At least these actions are so ingrained in him he hardly has to think. 

Shouto finishes in the bathroom and goes back to his room. He turns the light off as soon as the door is shut. He doesn’t want to see the room more than he has to. He makes his way to the bed, bumping softly into the bed frame but using it to guide him to the pillows.

He tosses the corner of the covers back, the duvet and top sheet crisp under his hand. He crawls in next. He folds the covers back over him and lays down, adjusting until he’s somewhat comfortable.

The sheets are stiff. Is that normal? Has Shouto turned into someone who sleeps on stiff sheets? He wouldn’t think so but the evidence is stacked against him.

He turns over again. Fusses with the pillow. Shouto’s always been a right side sleeper. He can’t do that with his injury, so he stares up at the ceiling uselessly. The sheets fall gently around him and as he settles they get more comfortable. They feel less stiff and more like they’d actually just been freshly laundered and sun dried.

Had someone washed these sheets for him? And dried them all while he was at the hospital? He knows Kirishima had come over and gotten him clothes, but he can’t imagine he had enough time to properly launder, sun dry, and remake Shouto’s bed before he got home. There just wasn’t enough time for that.

Shouto sighs and lets his eyes drift shut. He doesn’t want to think anymore. His brain won’t stop though. It flows from Kirishima to Midoriya, and the comfortability of Midoriya in this apartment.

The way he’d walked through like he belonged, went through the kitchen as if it were his own, even sat down at a chair like it’s his designated spot. He’d seemed so…at ease. Not to mention the hug with Bakugou.

Shouto squeezes his eyes shut tighter and pulls the blankets to his chin. Sure, he’d hugged Shouto too. But the way they held each other, it was like neither wanted to let go. And then Bakugou got all emotional once Midoriya left. A pang of hurt hits Shouto right in the stomach, and he curls into a ball. 

They’re clearly keeping something from Shouto. And he has a sick feeling he knows what it is.

-=-=-=-

He wakes up in pain and confused, sunlight streaming directly on his face. Momentarily, he thinks he’s back at UA. His brain is yelling at him that he’s late for class and he rushes to sit up. As soon as he does a burst of pain courses up his side.

Slowly, yesterday’s events come back to him. The hospital, the amnesia, being home but not really. 

His room isn’t any more comforting in the daylight than it had been last night, but at least he doesn’t have to stress about Aizawal reprimanding him for being late. He tries to sit up but is once again hit with a wave of pain.

Shit, where’d he leave those painkillers? He didn’t grab them off the couch after last night's awkward goodbye. Shouto sits up gingerly this time, making it to his elbows when a glint of sun catches his eye. He turns to his left and sitting right there on his bedside table is a full glass of water, a pill sitting on a napkin, the pill bottle, a phone, and a note.

He reaches for the note:

You left these downstairs. Take it ASAP or you’re gonna feel like shit. Food’s in the fridge. Eat.

And here’s your shitty phone too. Text me that you’re alive.

-Bakugou 

Shouto can’t help the wave of emotions that flow through him. Strongest of all: endearment. Bakugou had gone out of his way not only to bring Shouto his medicine and write—in Bakugou’s own way—a note caring for him and even dropped off his phone. He made sure Shouto knows there’s food in the fridge for him, and to text him when he’s awake. 

He reaches for the glass, wincing, and the pill and takes it. Then he grabs his phone and settles back onto his pillows. The phone unlocks automatically due to facial recognition and shows the time as 7:13. He turns it back off and goes to manually put in his passcode, nervous and then excited and smug all at once when the code he’s always used unlocks his phone.

There are a number of messages waiting for him on his phone. He clicks on them and his phone screen displays regular chats and group chats. He’s relieved to find he recognizes them all. There’s the UA group chat, his chat with his family, and then various personal chats with his friends.

He looks for Bakugou first and foremost. He’s fourth from the top (last one before the new messages start), which Shouto assumes makes sense. They live together so they probably don’t text all that often. Their last messages were from two days ago. He clicks on the chat.

Bakugou Katsuki ● 3:43 PM

Also grab milk we’re almost out

Me ● 3:47 PM

okay emoji

Bakugou Katsuki ● 3:54 PM

Just use the damn emojis Shouto

Shouto grins. At least he makes himself laugh. Then he scrolls up. It seems most of their messages are the same type of quick reminders like that. Messages of when they’re on their way home from work, grocery store requests, questions about household chores and errands. Also a few pictures of Rubble on top of the fridge or hiding in silly spots.

There are the occasional memes sent back and forth, most of the ones from Shouto pictures of cats doing vaguely human-like things. Nothing strikes him as totally bizarre so he scrolls back down.

Me ● 7:14 AM

I am alive.

Thank you for bringing me my things.

He doesn’t expect Bakugou to text him back right away. He’s probably out on patrol, or doing some kind of paperwork. But the texting bubbles pop up before he even gets a chance to leave the chat.

Bakugou Katsuki ● 7:14 AM

Good. Eat the food in the fridge. 

How’s the arm? Stitches intact? 

Drink that glass of water. 

Do you need me to come home at all? Don’t lie. I can leave whenever.

I own this place.

Shouto scoffs at his phone screen, grinning like a school boy. He examines his arm. The gauze had stayed in place, once again spotted with a slight bit of blood. Less than yesterday though.

Me ● 7:15 AM

I’m in pain but I just took my medicine. I think I will be okay.

Arm is intact. I’ll switch out the bandage when I go downstairs.

Shouto continues to grin as he types out:

Don’t let me be the reason you take a day off. 

I heard you’re trying to beat the Number One Hero.

Bakugou Katsuki ● 7:15 AM

Don’t be smart with me, jackass 

I know where you live

Me ● 7:15 AM

You’re threatening me? While I’m incapacitated??

Bakugou Katsuki ● 7:16 AM

Bakugou Katsuki emphasized “Don’t be smart with me, jackass”

Please

I don’t need you to be injured to take you down

Gotta run 

Call if it’s urgent

Me ● 7:16 AM

Okay 

Thanks again

He exits their chat with a yawn and goes back to the thread of all his messages. There are various inquiries from a number of his friends. Shouto yawns again.

He’s going to answer them, he is, but maybe not right now. He eases himself back into a prone position and rubs his face into his pillow.

It’s not like he has anywhere to be right now. He may as well get some extra sleep. 

The next time when he wakes up the sun is no longer in his eyes but across his chest. His stomach growls within the first few moments of him being conscious, so Shouto gingerly sits himself up. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as before so he gets himself up and shuffles to the bathroom.

Rubble is waiting outside of Bakugou’s door and he turns around and lets out a long, scratchy meow once he spots Shouto.

“Good morning,” Shouto says to him in an equally scratchy voice, “were you expecting Bakugou to still be home?”

Rubble chirps out a reply and follows Shouto to the bathroom. There is a new bandage left on the counter which Bakugou must have left him. Shouto changes the gauze and examines the stitches. Everything still looks good.

He shaves after he does the rest of his washing up duties, taking care to do so with his left hand. He goes back to his room and is surprised momentarily when Rubble pauses in the doorway. He sniffs the doorway and meows at Shouto.

“Does this room seem weird to you too?” Shouto asks him.

Rubble yawns, opening his mouth wide, and sits himself in the doorway. Shouto sighs and goes to his dresser. He rifles through the shirts laid out there, folded neatly in drawers.

The shirt at the top looks well worn but incredibly soft. He pulls it out and holds it in front of him. He can’t help a small laugh when he realizes what it is.

It’s from an early merch drop of Dynamight shirts, with an orange X over the left breast and his hero name written down the right sleeve and the phrase ‘Ground Zero’ down the other. It’s clear Shouto’s worn it often but the shirt is not threadbare in the slightest, a testament to Bakugou's commitment to the best–even his merch. Shouto throws it on and then slips on another pair of sweatpants.

He grabs his phone back off his bed and then makes his way downstairs. He has to keep cautious on the steps because Rubble keeps stopping in front of him. Eventually, he makes it down the steps and goes to the kitchen. 

There’s some food left in Rubble’s bowl so he knows Bakugou had fed him this morning. It doesn’t stop Rubble from meowing incessantly at the bowl.

“Here, you have food,” Shouto says to him, kicking the bowl lightly with his foot.

Rubble meows again but starts to eat.

Shouto opens the fridge door. The first thing he sees is a container of the leftover soup from yesterday. There is another container in the fridge with a note attached. Shouto takes it out.

You better eat.

Shouto rolls his eyes at the note then peers into the container. It has three onigiri in it. Shouto hums happily to himself. He puts the container on the counter and opens it. He takes out one and bites into it. Bakugou must have made them this morning, they taste fresh and extremely delicious. 

He gets himself another glass of water as he finishes the first onigiri. He holds his glass of water in his right hand–filled only half way–and picks the container back up with his left hand and carries it all to the couch. Rubble jumps onto the couch with him as he settles in.

Shouto turns on the television and begins flipping through the channels. He lands on one of his favorite shows, Antiques Roadshow. As soon as the show starts he's hit with a rush of memories.

Sitting here on the couch with Bakugou as this show plays on, Bakugou always grumbling about Shouto putting on such a boring show. But then Bakugou is the one even more into it than Shouto, complaining about the antiques people bring in that “clearly aren’t worth shit” or “these specialists don’t know fuck all, that’s gotta be worth more”.

Shouto laughs to himself and begins to eat another onigiri as he focuses on the show.

When he finishes his meal he picks his phone back up. 

Tsuyu Asui ● yesterday 1:03 PM

Todoroki! We don’t want to bombard your phone but we’re all thinking of you <3 if you need anything at all let us know ASAP <33

Kaminari Denki ● yesterday 1:04 PM

yeh we’ll just bother Blasty instead

Shinsou Hitoshi, Kirishima Eijirou, Ashido Mina, Sero Hanta, Iida Tenya, Kyoka Jirou, Uraraka Ochako emphasized a message.

Ashido Mina ● yesterday 1:04 PM

when you feel up for visitors maybe some of us can get together?? they posted the newest Hero Highlight reels and this months thumbnail is someone special devil emoji

Kirishima Eijirou ● yesterday 1:05 PM

wow i wonder who that could be 

not like pinky just had a career record civilian save count

Ashido Mina ● yesterday 1:07 PM

hey!! this is abt helping todoroki not me!!

There’s various emojis sent after that, people laughing and reacting to that portion of the conversation as well as sending Shouto well wishes. 

He rereads Mina’s message about visiting. He thinks about his friends coming here tomorrow or the next day, seeing him in this state. The bruises are par for the course with their job. But the thought of them seeing him when he’s four years behind is making his throat feel tight and his skin grow hot and itchy.

He already has trouble keeping track of inside jokes and callbacks when they’re all together. He can’t fathom it right now.

He types out his own response.

Me ● 10:40 AM

Thank you everyone. I appreciate it. 

I will let you know if I need anything but I am doing well already. 

Let’s get together soon.

Maybe next week.

He exits their chat and opens the private one with Sero.

Sero Hanta ● yesterday 2:37 PM

dang roki! if u wanted to get out of movie night, u couldve just said!!! 

now u got us all worried :/

but fr dude lmk if theres anything i can do to help

ill bring over some manga if ur bored

Shouto can’t help but laugh. Sero has always been able to do that, make Shouto laugh no matter what (sometimes in the most inopportune times). Like this one time, they were teamed up on a stake out mission. They were exhausted and honestly slightly delirious, when Sero started making the most ridiculous imaginary conversations for the group they were tailing. Shouto couldn’t hold in his laughter, and the pair of them were suddenly describing things louder and more fantastical than before.

It did lead to the villains hearing them and almost scattering off, but luckily they had captured enough evidence as well as the villains themselves before things could go any more awry. They vowed never to speak of that night again.

Me ● 10:43 AM

You know how much I hate movie night :/

I might take you up on that manga offer

Even though I can probably reread the ones here and not even know no smile emoji

He opens his chat with Momo.

Yaoyorozu Momo ● yesterday 12:21 PM

Shouto, Bakugou just called and gave me the news. He told me it was silly to leave for this but if you need me I’ll be there, no matter the distance. 

Shouto feels another bloom of warmth at how much his friends care for him. Even Momo, who he knows is currently stationed in Thailand, is offering to come home. He would never ask her to do that but just the fact that she offered has Shouto smiling as his phone.

Me ● 10:45 AM

Thank you, Momo, I appreciate it

Bakugou is right though, there’s no need for you to leave and come here. 

A thought suddenly strikes him, his heart stuttering in his chest, and he writes back:

When did you leave for Thailand again?

He reopens his chat with Sero and adds:

Me ● 10:46 AM

What year did The Stakeout happen?

Lastly he opens his group chat with his family. He still remembers how awkward it was when Fuyumi had made this chat but they’ve used it somewhat frequently throughout the years. Shouto assumes they still do.

There are messages from all four of them wishing him well and asking him to call. He answers them and tells them he’s doing fine and promises to call.

He texts Midoriya too, letting him know he’s awake and feeling fine even though Midoriya is in the group chat he’d texted earlier.

He spends the next hour or so watching TV. Rubble keeps him company most of the time, either directly beside Shouto or up in his cat tree. His body isn’t in terrible pain as he just sits and watches TV, but he can feel a twinge of discomfort deep in his bones.

His phone buzzes at his side.

Yaoyorozu Momo ● 12:06 PM

I got here about 5 months ago! Did you recall that on your own?

A burst of excitement hits Shouto as he reads the message. He knew Momo was in Thailand, he just knew.

Me ● 12:07 PM

I did.

I remembered all on my own.

He types back quickly. Sero responds at the same time, confirming that The Stakeout had happened only two years ago, another thing Shouto has recalled all on his own. Bakugou hasn’t texted him again, which is fine. He’s busy at work. And, clearly, there would be a lot going on considering the villain attack yesterday.

Shouto decides to call his family members now too. His call with his father is slightly awkward, but Endeavor expresses his gratefulness that Shouto is okay and reassures him that they’re doing everything they can to learn more about the villains who had attacked. Fuyumi and his mother are both teary on the phone and ask him if they should come by and take care of him. He refuses kindly, getting that same uncomfortable feeling as when his friends had asked to visit. He doesn’t want anyone to see him in this state. Even Natsuo asks if Shouto needs him to come by. He reassures all four of them that he should be okay and that he’s already starting to recall things since he’s been home.

As Shouto hangs up his final call, a loud yawn escapes his mouth. He frowns into it and covers his mouth.

Shouto has never loved phone calls but he’s left feeling even more exhausted than usual after having multiple of the same reassuring phone calls with his family. He feels sort of like a loser when his eyes begin to drift shut, but he genuinely can’t help it. Apparently getting your ass beat makes you susceptible for naps.

He grabs the blanket from where he’d left it yesterday on the back of the couch and haphazardly throws it over himself. He leaves the television playing as he snuggles himself into the couch—laying on his left side—and falls asleep.

-=-=-=-

He must be out for a while because when he opens his eyes the room is much darker. He sits up with a wince, grabbing his phone to check the time. It’s 6:02, not quite time for him to take more medicine. He wishes it was, his body feels stiff and uncomfortable.

He also has a text from Bakugou, telling him he’s going to be late coming home but that he was okay. Shouto frowns. He doesn’t know how late late means, but he hopes it isn’t going to be too long.

Shouto doesn’t usually mind being alone but something in him is wishing Bakugou was already home. 

Shouto kills some time by feeding Rubble his dinner. It’s a slow process because he aches as he moves around, but eventually he gets the food in the bowl and Rubble chows down. Then Shouto makes his way upstairs to get his medicine. By the time he has a pill in hand and is back downstairs, it’s time to take it.

Bakugou still isn’t home which is starting to get concerning but Shouto is trying not to worry. Shouto tries to calm himself down by playing with Rubble, getting on the floor next to the cat tree and pulling out a feathery wand. Rubble is mostly into it, batting at it with his paws and jumping around.

Just as those anxious thoughts begin to circle more incessantly, the sound of the door opening fills the room. Shouto turns from where he’s sitting on the floor. From this vantage point the doorway is obscured by part of the wall, but he can hear Bakugou kicking off his shoes.

“Sho?” Bakugou calls out.

“Over here,” Shouto answers, starting to stand.

Bakugou makes his way over to Shouto—placing a bag of what looks like takeout on the coffee table—and helps him up even with Shouto’s protests.

“Sorry I’m so late,” Bakugou says once Shouto is standing, “there was a lot going down. Midoriya’s still at his agency, he said he’s sorry but he can’t make it tonight.”

Shouto nods in understanding, taking in the sight of Bakugou before him. He’s dressed in his Hero Costume and a little dirty, but he doesn’t look injured.

“Nice shirt,” Bakugou says before Shouto can ask him anything.

Shouto looks down at the Dynamight merch and feels his cheeks grow warm. He blasts his cold quirk.

“What happened today?” Shouto asks him.

Bakugou’s eyes are fixed on Shouto’s chest so Shouto looks down again, but it’s just the same shirt, no stain or fuzz or anything out of place.

“Nothing major,” Bakugou begins abruptly, “just some dipshits wanting to follow the momentum of yesterday. But they didn’t have a plan or anything, it was easy to take ‘em down. How are you feeling? Did you eat?”

“I feel okay. It hurts but,” Shouto shrugs. “I ate breakfast. Thank you for making it.”

“Just breakfast?” Bakugou asks.

Shouto nods.

“C’mon Sho, you need to eat to get better.” Bakugou gestures to the bag, “I grabbed some takeout from that Chinese place you like down the block. You can start eating, let me just shower.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Bakugou nods, reaching out and looking like he’s going to touch Shouto’s cheek before diverting his hand and ruffling his hair.

Shouto’s breath hitches all the same.

“Be right back,” Bakugou says, and then he heads up the stairs.

Shouto gets some plates and utensils from the kitchen and carries them over to the coffee table. He unboxes the food and breathes in deeply. He’s starving suddenly, probably because he slept through eating any lunch, but he waits for Bakugou to come down. At least the medicine has kicked in again. His pain has returned to that dull ache.

Bakugou doesn’t take much longer. He comes down in the same clothes he’d put on last night, the oversized t-shirt still looking obnoxiously good on him.

“I remembered a few things today.” Shouto tells him.

Bakugou’s eyes widen and he sits quickly at the table, crossing his legs and gesturing for Shouto to continue.

He begins to explain the different things he’d recalled throughout the day, from Momo being in Thailand to an ‘event sworn to secrecy with Sero’, and watching television with Bakugou. 

Bakugou looks extremely pleased at everything he says, digging into his food with a grin. It makes Shouto feel equally as pleased, eating in between stories. Bakugou shares some more about his day at work and how his agency is helping with figuring out if there were any memory quirk users in the vicinity yesterday. So far the search has turned up empty.

Shouto tries his hardest to not yawn or look tired during their meal. He’s enjoying Bakugou’s company very much, and he’s starting to forget about everything that’s wrong in the ease of their conversation. They’ve finished eating at this point and are just sitting and talking to each other. He doesn’t want the night to end yet. 

Evidently, it doesn’t work. After he tries to stifle yet another yawn Bakugou asks, “Do you want to head up to sleep? You’re probably tired.”

Shouto frowns. “I’ve been sleeping all day. I took a five hour nap.”

Bakugou sort of laughs, “Yeah, well. Not like you don’t have a good reason for it.”

Shouto has to begrudgingly agree when yet another yawn comes out of him. 

It’s past 9 at this point, so it’s not terribly early to go to sleep, but after being alone all day Shouto is craving company (the fact that it’s Bakugou is certainly a selling point). But he also knows Bakugou himself is probably tired. He can’t be selfish.

Bakugou gets their leftovers boxed up and the table cleaned before they both head up the stairs. 

They pause outside their doors again.

Shouto has a brief yet strong yearning to force the night to extend, or to ask Bakugou to stay with him. He berates his brain for being so foolish.

Bakugou turns to face him, hand on his doorknob, and says, “G’night, Sho. Knock if you need anything.”

“You too,” Shouto says, which makes Bakugou laugh, “good night.”

They open their doors and head into their rooms at the same time. Once again, Shouto gets that weird feeling as he changes for bed, and it follows him into his bathroom as he washes up. He just tries to ignore it as best he can lest he have another freakout like yesterday.

When he gets back to bed he lays on his back, pulls his blankets up to his chin, and lets sleep take him.

-=-=-=-

Shouto’s morning goes much the same as yesterday. He wakes up in pain at around 9:30, and reaches over to take his pill first thing. He texts Bakugou and Midoriya that he’s up and okay.

He still doesn’t want to spend any extra time in this room so as soon as he feels okay enough to get up, he does. He makes his way out of bed and gets his morning routine started. 

Rubble greets him just like yesterday, following him around as he gets dressed and goes downstairs. 

There’s three more onigiri in the fridge for Shouto to eat, which he happily does. He sits himself in front of the television again and watches some trashy reality tv show he’s never seen before (probably).

Just as Shouto finds himself getting perhaps too into the drama on screen, his phone rings and he swipes to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good morning Todoroki-san , this is Doctor Hong.”

Shouto sits up, feeling more awake in an instant.

“Ah, good morning, Doctor Hong.”

“I’m calling to let you know how the search has gone. We worked with various agencies and the police to get answers as quickly as possible. Due to that we’ve been able to determine there were no memory altering quirk users in the vicinity.”  

Shouto takes in the information. He had a feeling this would be the outcome.

“Okay. This means it’s definitely medical?”

“Yes. The good news is that we don’t have to question the cause anymore and can focus on typical memory care. Have you had any moments of clarity since being home?”

Shouto tells her each thing he’s remembered and confirms he’s gotten his prescription and is taking care of his injuries. 

“These are all good signs, Todoroki-san. I would also recommend looking at photographs and talking about what you see in them with someone. Sometimes if you don’t remember them in the moment, discussing what you see can help stir up hidden memories.”

They talk about some more tools Shouto can use to help and she assures him that the lethargy he is feeling is completely typical. She tells him to call back with any concerns, otherwise he seems to be doing well.

With her advice in his head, Shouto opens up his photo gallery app. Maybe they will bring up some more memories. He clicks the folder labeled ‘Recents’. The very last photo he’d taken is of Rubble, dated a few days ago. He’s mid meow or perhaps mid yawn, and all of his teeth are visible and his eyes are squinted. Shouto goes to favorite the image and sees it already is. He keeps scrolling, passing another two pictures of Rubble, a photo of grocery store shelf (he assumes he was asking Bakugou’s opinion on a purchase), and then he almost drops his phone upon the next swipe.

It’s a picture of Bakugou. Asleep. In bed.

Oh god.

What the fuck. What the fuck?!

When–how– why did Shouto take this photo?! Bakugou is shirtless (terrible), he’s sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly (terrible), and his face peaceful and soft and beautiful (the most terrible of all). The covers aren’t covering a majority of Bakugou’s chest so Shouto could potentially get a good look at him if he wasn’t now actively focusing on everything besides Bakugou. It’s clearly Bakugou’s room, the background definitely not the room Shouto had slept in last night. So he must have crept in on Bakugou to take this photo of him. And recently too, considering it’s the fifth photo in his camera roll. 

It’s so spine chillingly horrifying and embarrassing that Shouto clicks on the screen once more to delete the picture.

The next revelation is even worse, because the photo has been favorited. His creeper shot of Bakugou Katsuki sleeping has been favorited on his phone.

Holy. Shit.

Something must be clinically wrong with Shouto to have this photo not only on his phone but favorited . He can’t bear looking at the picture for another moment, so he swipes it away, photos flying past the screen in a rush. At least ten photos flash by before the screen settles on one. In a cruel twist of fate, or perhaps the universe punishing him for the original photo, the photo he lands on is somehow more terrible.

It's another picture of Bakugou sleeping, only this time he’s asleep on their couch. And beside him is a just as fast asleep Midoriya, head against Bakugou's shoulder. Bakugou’s head is resting against Midoriya’s and using his fluffy hair as a sort of pillow. Both their arms are crossed over their respective chests, but there’s hardly any space between them. 

Shouto stares at the photo with a growing numbness.

His suspicions are almost definitely confirmed now.

Bakugou would never fall asleep next to someone like that. As far as Shouto can remember, Bakugou actively shoves off people like Kaminari or Kirishima when they attempt that kind of physical contact. Shouto’s never attempted it (he couldn’t bear the reality of being shoved away) but he’s certain Bakugou would not tolerate it from him or anyone else. Seeing him close and comfortable against Midoriya makes his stomach churn.

Shouto drags a hand down his face in despair, letting his phone drop to his lap. Not only is he wildly uncomfortable with the fact that he has these photos, but the fact that his memories are all missing surrounding them makes him feel even more uncomfortable. He doesn’t know why he took these photos or why one is favorited. He hopes beyond all hope there’s a good reason for it. Something that isn’t so insane.

He takes a deep breath. Okay. Okay. He probably took this photo to send to them, to tease them about their relationship. Midoriya would probably blush and get all flustered while Bakugou would yell and curse him out. Shouto’s thoughts start to spiral without his consent, imagining there’s more images of the same on his phone and text messages to the pair about their relationship. 

His own (now tragic seeming) crush on Bakugou apparently hadn’t gone away over the years. And now not only is he living with the man but Shouto’s best friend is dating him. Oh god. And Shouto has been…what? Flirting with Bakugou? In front of Midoriya! 

All those weird moments, Midoriya was right there. No wonder he had gotten up and ran to the kitchen when Bakugou was changing his bandage. Shouto was making him uncomfortable.

This is probably the worst way this could have gone. No wonder the two of them hadn’t told Shouto about their relationship yet. Doctor Hong had said to be careful with big revelations. If his crush was this obvious before the amnesia, odds are they’ve already had to talk to Shouto about it.

The idea is chilling. They probably had to have a whole conversation with him months (years?!) ago about how obvious his crush was and to please tone it down and stop ogling my boyfriend, Shouto, thanks. 

What if–what if Shouto had confessed to Bakugou in the past but he was already with Midoriya? Or what if Shouto never confessed and instead just got swept up in moving in with Bakugou and having a pretend life with him, only for him to start dating Midoriya.

Their friends have always joked that Bakugou is an acquired taste, and Shouto would always feel privately pleased that he had definitely acquired it. But of course, Midoriya had acquired it years before Shouto had even come into the picture. The two of them–for better or for worse–have shaped their lives around the other. There was no other possible outcome than Shouto sitting on the sidelines.

Shouto feels his phone vibrate on his lap but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to keep circling the same thoughts over and over but he can’t stop. The television is still droning on and on but it’s doing nothing to capture his attention. He forces himself to close his eyes and curls up on the couch uncomfortably. If his mind won’t stop, he’ll make it stop.

It’s a fitful kind of sleep. He drifts in and out of consciousness that is interconnected with strange dreams filled with bizarre scenarios. He’s at a dinner party at UA but it morphs into Shouto’s wedding that turns into Midoriya and Bakugou’s wedding, with Shouto as dual best man and forced to give speeches on their loving relationship. Then another finds him sitting in his apartment with Bakugou eating some nondescript dinner, but that too morphs and suddenly he’s interrupting Bakugou and Midoriya on an incredibly (and upon waking up, out of character) lavish and romantic date night.

Each dream becomes worse than the last until he wakes up with a gasping breath, a vision of Midoriya and Bakugou wound tightly around each other, locked in a twisted kiss, and Shouto snooping from the doorway.

His eyes flash open and he chokes on a breath. He’s sweaty and uncomfortable and disoriented. He feels around for his phone, finding it in the crack between two of the couch cushions. He checks the time first, it’s already 2:30. Shouto sighs and lets his phone drop back onto the couch. 

He swings his legs off the side of the couch and stands on wobbly legs, his head spinning. He makes his way up the stairs and into his bathroom. He doesn’t really want to take another shower but he feels hot and gross and sweaty.

Shouto pulls off his shirt and stares at himself in the mirror again. The bruising has to look worse before it gets better, the purples and blues turning to yellows and greens. The hickey that was on his chest is almost completely faded. Shouto glares at it. He doesn’t even know who gave it to him and his two friends won’t even tell him.

He huffs in annoyance and turns away. He gets the water to the correct temperature easily today but still struggles to get his bandage covered. In his irritation Shouto just rips a piece of tape off and then shoves his whole hand in a plastic bag and just tapes it closed by his elbow.

Even though he wants to shower quickly, he has to be slow and careful while washing his hair and body. He’s angry and annoyed at himself, yes, but that doesn’t mean he wants to injure himself further.

He does manage to get everything done in what feels like a relatively short amount of time. He steps out of the shower and dries himself, tossing away the plastic bag, tape, and the bandage that covered his stitches. He examines his arm closely and decides not to recover the stitches since it's been two days now. 

He’d left the door to his bedroom open when he’d left it this morning, so he has no reason to stall going in. Rubble is waiting outside of Bakugou’s door again, which just slightly pisses Shouto off because he’s Shouto’s cat so he should like Shouto more and wait outside of his door. At least Rubble follows him to the doorway again, but still doesn't come inside the room.

Shouto grabs the first shirt from his dresser without a second thought. And yet another pair of lounge pants. At least Shouto hasn’t lost his love for comfortable clothes over the years. Aside from his social wardrobe, everything else consists of almost exclusively soft and comfortable clothes.

Despite not wanting to spend more time in the room, Shouto decides to take some time to go around in closer inspection. He gently gets down on his hands and knees to look under the bed. There’s nothing under there, not even a speck of dust. The bedside drawers are pretty much empty. There is loose change and two pens in the left one, while the right one has only a pad of paper in it. He reopens the closet door again and examines his clothing. He rifles through the pockets of the suit jackets hanging. The navy blue one has a pamphlet in it so he takes it out. It's for some kind of award ceremony from the year prior. He opens it and scans through, Mirio apparently had been honored with an award that night. Shouto nods to himself, good for him.

Unfortunately, nothing else stands out to him. Again, it’s as if there is nothing in there to show it’s Shouto’s beside his clothing and the two photographs. He huffs out a sigh and looks over the room again. If walls could talk, he’s pretty sure these ones would have nothing to say. 

He continues his investigation downstairs. Except, downstairs doesn’t feel so foreign, especially after last night. He may not have exact memories of the living room, but the entire vibe of the room oozes familiarity and comfort. His blanket thrown over the couch, photos of his friends, Rubble’s cat tree and toys. It feels well loved and lived in.

The kitchen does too. The layout feels incredibly familiar to him now. He looks through their pantry and fridge, it’s stocked with snacks and foods he likes that he knows Bakugou wouldn’t keep around for himself. Gummies and sour candies and extremely sweet fruit juice. There’s also things he knows Bakugou likes that Shouto isn’t a huge fan of, like extra spicy noodles and cinnamon candy. He also notes as an aside that they definitely have all the ingredients to make soba. 

When his investigation turns up no new results again (though in the complete opposite spectrum), he heats up some of the soup for lunch and feeds Rubble before heading back to the living room.

He sits on the floor and leans against the couch to eat his lunch, picking up his phone as he does so. He clicks on the message from earlier.

Uraraka Ochako ● 11:45 AM

I totally get if you dont want anyone else coming by but I’m sending some treats with Deku when he comes home (dont let Bakugou take them away!! You need just as many sweet treats as vegetables to feel better!!)

Shouto feels sort of sick at the thought of seeing either of them again, but he understands Ochako is simply trying to be helpful. It’s not like it’s Midoriya's fault that Shouto had made a fool of himself. And, Ochako’s baking is honestly really good, Shouto and her have baking days all the time (wherein Ochako makes desserts and Shouto sits around her kitchen while they gossip). If he hadn’t had just come to this realization, he would be thrilled about this kindness she’s extending.

With that thought in mind he crafts his response:

Me ● 3:20 PM

I would really like that 

Bakugou made me eat radishes yesterday vomit emoji

Shouto feels distant the rest of the afternoon, his limbs sluggish and brain lagging just behind the shows he has on. He feels numb at every joke they crack on screen and he doesn’t bother to check his phone when he feels it vibrate against his leg. He briefly wonders if he actually does have a concussion, but he’s had one twice in the past and they’ve never made him feel like this. It feels–tragically–a bit like heartache. 

Shouto hates it.

He’s sitting on the couch with the television off just staring into space when he hears the lock click on the front door. He jolts, turning towards it, as Bakugou comes into view.

“Fuck, it’s good to be home,” Bakugou says as he steps into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. He’s not in his hero costume today, instead wearing black slacks and a grey knit sweater, “You won’t believe the amount of paperwork all of this has caused.”

He finally looks at Shouto, and falters in his step.

Shouto understands why, because he inexplicably started to cry as soon as he’d seen Bakugou. The tension that’s filled his day hits him like a truck. And as terrible as it probably is, all he wants now is for Bakugou to comfort him.

“Hey,” Bakugou soothes in a calm voice, rushing to the couch, “Sho, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Shouto sniffles and shakes his head no as Bakugou sits down beside him. Immediately, he wraps Shouto up in his arms and pulls him tight against his chest. Shouto melts into the comfort, pressing his face against the soft material of the sweater. His tears begin to fall but he tries his best to stop them. It doesn't help that Bakugou is rubbing a hand down Shouto’s back and continuing to whisper quietly to him.

“It’s okay, Shouto. I got you, I got you,” he murmurs.

Shouto tries to calm himself down, breathing deeply against Bakugou’s chest. A few tears fall against his will. Bakugou just continues to hold him and rub his back, letting Shouto cry against him. 

Slowly, his breaths become less frantic and his tears start. When he starts to sit up, Bakugou lets him go, one of his hands dropping to Shouto’s thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto says, wiping his eyes and face.

“Don’t apologize. What happened?” Bakugou asks again.

He sounds and looks concerned, and he hasn’t moved further away from Shouto at all besides letting him go.

“I’m…” Shouto doesn’t know how to say it. I‘m pretty sure you and Midoriya are dating but I definitely have had feelings for you for years and I’m not coping well?

“Did someone say some shit to you? One of those extras? Endeavor?” Bakugou asks, and now he’s moving to get to his phone.

“No, no one said anything,” Shouto reassures.

Bakugou stops reaching for his phone immediately. “Okay. Okay, did you remember something?”

Shouto breathes out deeply. “I…think so.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Shouto shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Alright, that’s fine. We can talk about it later. If it helps, Deku’s able to come by for dinner tonight.”

Shouto stiffens unintentionally at his name. Bakugou notices instantly.

“He doesn’t have to. I can call him and tell him not to come if you’re not up for it. We’ll do whatever you want,” Bakugou insists.

“No, he can come. Sorry, I’m just…”

“I told you already, you don’t have to apologize, Shouto. Okay? You have nothing to apologize for.”

Shouto nods again and lets out another deep breath. “You keep calling me that,” he says, “my name, I mean.”

Bakugou gives him a tiny smile, his hand tightening against Shouto’s thigh. “Yeah I guess I do, don’t I?”

Shouto nods. 

“I guess that memory hasn’t sprung up yet then,” Bakugou says and he taps Shouto on his temple with a quick motion, catching Shouto off guard.

He belatedly tries to swipe at him, stomach swooping. “Should I call you Katsuki, then?”

Bakugou cocks his head slightly. “You can call me whatever you want.”

Shouto frowns, “But you sometimes call me, y’know, the usual names too. Like Halfie and Icyhot. So what do I usually call you? Did I start calling you Blasty or something like that?”

Bakugou grimaces and then says, “You call me my name.”

Shouto regards him. Bakugou's face is mostly neutral but Shouto can’t help but feel like he’s holding something back.

“Okay…Katsuki.”

Bakugou scoffs out a laugh and lightly pushes Shouto’s face away from him, “You’re such a dork.”

Shouto bites down a smile.

“So, did you eat today? Or have you been wasting away in this spot all day,” Bakugou asks him.

Shouto rolls his eyes, “Yes, I told you I’m not helpless.”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow at him, “Tell that to twenty-seven year old Shouto that only eats frozen dinners when I’m not home.”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. He sounds like he’s getting a perfectly balanced diet.”

Bakugou starts to stand, offering his hand to Shouto. He doesn’t know where they’re going but Shouto takes it anyway.

“No, he sounds like if I didn’t cook for him he’d be malnourished.”

Shouto shrugs even though Bakugou is in front of him.

“Twenty-three year old Shouto got by just fine,” he interjects, his sadness from before almost nonexistent just because of Bakugou. 

The irony is not lost on him.

“Twenty-three year old Shouto was getting home cooked meals by me like, three times a week, remember?” Bakugou says.

Shouto does remember, smiling to himself. The group of them used to get together for dinner a few times a week. If they were at his and Midoriya’s, Bakugou would grumble that they “ate like shit” when he wasn’t there and refused to eat anything they had in their fridge. If they were at Bakugou and Kirishima’s, it was just kind of understood Bakugou was making dinner. On the off chance they ordered take-out, it was still fresh food.

“I was looking in the cabinets before,” Shouto starts as they come into the kitchen, “and I was wondering–”

“If you’re about to ask me to make soba, don’t waste your breath.”

Shouto shuts his mouth.

Rubble comes in with a loud screech, announcing his presence.

“Did he feed you today, Dumpster? Or he left you to fend for yourself like old times?”

“Of course I fed him.” Shouto defends.

Rubble winds between them. Bakugou finally drops his hand and starts to get out a pot and fill it with water. Shouto goes and leans against the counter beside the fridge.

“What are you making?”

“Soba, you idiot.”

Shouto grins.

“Don’t just stand there looking pretty, get out the vegetables,” Bakugou tells him.

Shouto listens, moving around the kitchen and getting out various vegetables.

“Wash those,” Bakugou says while pointing at a handful of green onions.

They work together in companionable silence, navigating the kitchen side by side easily. That’s the thing about the two of them. Sure, they banter back and forth and both try to get under the other's skin, but they’re perfectly content just existing in a space together. Shouto had first noticed this back at UA, after everything they’d been through, both of them seemed to seek out the silent company of others. They’d just slowly started to come together more and more when the chatter of their friends became too loud. Bakugou would cook. Shouto would sit in the kitchen with him. Sometimes he’d help. Mostly he wouldn’t.

It was calming and comforting and he knows that was the first spark for him.

With their other friends it’s harder. They don’t expect Shouto to be chatty or as energetic as someone like Kaminari or Mina, but spending time with them is draining sometimes. Shouto loves them, he does, but there’s something in this quiet that he might love just a little bit more.

Shouto loses himself in the ease of the routine. He prepares edamame to be put in a pot and carefully chops the green onion. Bakugou is humming something under his breath, the sound filling the kitchen and mingling with bubbling water and sizzling gyoza.

Shouto is knocked out of his reverie when the doorbell rings, his blood going cold. He’d almost let himself fall into this faux normalcy and forgotten about everything else. 

“I got it,” Bakugou says, putting down the spoon he’d been holding. When he passes Shouto, he places a hand against his shoulder and squeezes gently.

Shouto watches him leave before he goes to the archway, peering just his head out, and waits. Thanks to the mostly open layout of their apartment, he can see where Bakugou stands in the genkan, opening the door. They greet each other as Midoriya hands something to Bakugou and takes off his shoes and jacket. They don’t embrace or make any sort of romantic gesture, which is strange but relieving all the same. Midoriya says something but it’s muffled in the sound of him shuffling and taking the basket back.

“Yeah, it was a shit ton of paperwork,” Bakugou is saying now as he turns around.

Shouto darts his head out of the archway.

“How was he when you got home?” he hears Midoriya ask quietly. 

If he wasn’t straining to listen, he probably would have missed it.

“Fine. He’s remembering more again.” Bakugou says back.

Hmm. That’s not exactly true, Shouto had been in full on tears when Bakugou had come home. But why not share that with Midoriya?

“That’s really good,” Midoriya says, and his voice is even louder now.

Shouto steps quickly to the front of the fridge and throws the door open, pretending he’d been there the whole time.

“Todoroki! Ochako sent some treats,” Midoriya says cheerfully.

Shouto turns his head, Midoriya brandishing a basket of muffins. His eyes widen as soon as he sees the basket's contents.

“Oh wow, she said she was going to but I didn’t expect this many,” Shouto says, closing the fridge and coming closer.

“She was off, so,” Midoriya says and Shouto doesn’t have to look at him to hear the smile in his voice, “There’s a few flavors here. Orange, blueberry, chocolate chip.”

“I’ll have to call and thank her again,” Shouto says.

He takes the basket from Midoriya and finally looks at his face. Midoriya is beaming at him, and Shouto can hardly muster a half hearted smile before he has to look away. Guilt races down his spine and his eyes dart to Bakugou involuntarily. Bakugou is already watching him. Shouto looks away abruptly and walks to the other end of the kitchen to place the basket on the counter space there.

When he turns back around, Bakugou is still watching him.

“How was work?” Shouto asks, trying to be normal but once again not able to face Midoriya.

Midoriya seems none the wiser, thankfully. He begins to explain just how crazy the agency had been today. Lots of research and paperwork into the villains from yesterday and trying to figure out their motives. As he talks they set the table and carry over the food. 

Shouto can’t help how awkward and stiff he feels now. Each time Midoriya passes him he tenses, and every time he looks at Bakugou Bakugou is already looking at him. Shouto makes eye contact with Midoriya once during the conversation, and Midoriya was eyeing him curiously. Still talking, but definitely giving Shouto a thoughtful stare. Shouto doesn’t look at him again. 

By the time Midoriya is nearing the end of the story, they’re sitting down and eating. 

It’s quiet at first. Stifling, actually, not at all like the quiet he and Bakugou had prepared dinner in. Shouto stares at his food, for the first time in his life the cold soba in front of him looking entirely unappetizing. He clears his throat. Again, for the first time in his life, he feels the need to fill the silence.

“Doctor Hong called this morning,” Shouto says to his bowl, “She confirmed the amnesia isn’t quirk related. I figured that, since I’ve been remembering more and more just being here on my own.”

He glances up quickly. 

They’re both leaning closer in anticipation for what he has to say. 

“Like what?” Midoriya asks, eyes alight.

Shouto attempts to not visibly gulp down his nerves. He fills Midoriya in on his memories from yesterday, Momo and Sero, television with Bakugou. He doesn’t mention today’s revelation.

He glances up at the two of them. Both of their expressions are carefully considered, Shouto can tell they know he’s keeping something to himself.

“These are really good signs, Todoroki,” Midoriya says anyway.

Shouto nods quietly.

Bakugou narrows his eyes as he sits back, examining Shouto.

“How’s the soba, Icyhot?”

Shouto looks down at his food quickly. He’s hardly touched it. “Oh, it’s good. Thank you, Bakugou.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow more.

“You know what,” Midoriya says suddenly with a high voice, calling all attention to him, “I totally meant to grab some juice. Anyone else want some?” He rises from his chair and heads to the kitchen, pointing at them both as they both shake their heads no.

“Sho,” Bakugou says quietly once Midoriya is gone. Shouto looks at him. “I know something is wrong. If you don’t want to talk about it with me,” a pang of hurt crosses his face, “that’s fine. But. You’re not…you’re not acting like yourself.”

His voice grows even quieter as he asks, “Did you remember something about Midoriya? Is that why you got all freaked since he’s been here?”

Shouto just barely nods his head.

Bakugou drops his chopsticks onto the table, his stare hard. “What happened? I’ll kick his ass right now if he did something to you,” he mutters.

“No! It’s nothing like that,” Shouto says quickly. “Midoriya,” he calls out, heart beating rapidly, “you can come back in here.”

Midoriya does so a few seconds later, his face a little red.

“Okay.” Shouto exhales once Midoriya sits down. “I didn’t exactly remember this but…a lot of things seem to be adding up to it. And I know Doctor Hong had told all of us to reveal big changes with care.”

Midoriya turns his head to look at Bakugou but Bakugou keeps staring at Shouto.

Shouto takes a breath, steeling himself. He just has to power through this. He can deal with his own shame from the fallout later.

“Are the two of you dating?” Shouto asks, blunt and to the point.

The other two at the table go completely still for a moment, two, three. Shouto glances between them both but neither expression is changing from absolute shock. Finally, they both seem to come back to themselves and start talking over each other:

“No, no fucking way this is your conclusion to everything, Shouto.”

“Kacchan and I? No, we’re just friends! The two–”

“Deku, seriously? Not now.”

“He’s obviously experiencing–”
“Not. Now.”

“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, fully facing Shouto. “Kacchan and I have always been just friends. Or I mean, I always considered us friends but he definitely didn’t for a while.”

“I can barely tolerate this fucker,” Bakugou says, pointing at Midoriya.

“Alright, well, I wouldn’t go that far, Kacchan.” Midoriya says, looking exceedingly unimpressed.

Shouto watches this in complete bewilderment, his world shifting.

“Holy shit, Deku, tell him about Ochako!”

Midoriya gasps and turns to Shouto again, “Oh my god! Todoroki, Ochako and I are literally engaged.”

Shouto’s jaw drops to the floor, his heart soaring.

“You proposed!” he gasps, and then adds, “You’re dating Ochako?”

Midoriya nods vigorously, “We started dating just a few weeks after you’re currently remembering, I guess. It was the end of October, four years ago. And I proposed last month!”

Shouto feels his eyes welling with tears again. But these aren’t tears of despair like before, but of elation for his friends. He doesn’t think he’s been this emotionally fraught in all of his life.

“Oh my god, Midoriya,” Shouto blurts out, rising from his chair, “that’s, that’s incredible news. I’m so happy for you both.”

Midoriya has risen too and the pair of them hug, Midoriya still careful of Shouto’s injuries. Shouto closes his eyes and relishes in the hug. He can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief and then he hugs Midoriya tighter before letting go completely.

He stares at Midoriya’s face for a good three seconds, the longest he’s actually looked him in the eye since he arrived. Midoriya’s eyes are also welling up–no surprise there–and he looks absolutely ecstatic. 

“I can tell you the whole proposal story again, if you want. It could help with the memories!”

“Yes, definitely. I can’t believe I don’t remember something as big as this,” Shouto muses.

Midoriya hums in acknowledgment, lifting his hand up to gently squeeze Shouto’s arm in comfort.

They both sit back down, and Shouto can’t help but reiterate his thoughts, “I really am missing a lot.”

“But it’s coming back already,” Midoriya says.

Shouto nods slightly and then looks at Bakugou.

Bakugou is staring at him in disbelief.

“I’m still—I can’t believe—you thought Deku and I were dating?”

Now, Shouto’s face flames up.

“It made sense at the time,” Shouto defends weakly.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

Shouto thinks about all the reasons he had for them to be together. Embarrassingly, most of them revolve around Shouto’s own feelings for Bakugou, so he isn’t about to come out and say that.

“There was this picture. On my phone. It was of the two of you sleeping on the couch there, and it seemed…intimate.”

Midoriya snorts next to him.

Shouto rushes to explain himself more, “I don’t remember you liking physical contact like that, so I just assumed.”

“And you know what happens when you assume?” Bakugou asks.

“I’m wrong?” Shouto guesses.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “Sure, Halfie. Let’s go with that. So what? That was the only picture on your phone you looked at? You didn’t bother to think maybe if you looked at some others it would clear things up? Maybe answer a few questions?”

Shouto can’t exactly say he was throwing an emotional tantrum at the thought of them dating and so refused to look at more photos. And he definitely isn’t admitting to the creeper photo of Bakugou he’d seen.

“Didn’t you see anything else?” Bakugou asks again.

He’s looking at Shouto like he knows the answer.

Shouto doesn’t answer. He can’t lie, but he absolutely will not tell the truth.

Bakugou raises his eyebrow at him and then sighs.

“Well, that’s some shitty reasoning then, Icyhot. One picture of us napping next to each other made you think I’m fucking dating this idiot?”

Again, Midoriya makes a sound of discontent but doesn’t argue.

“It wasn’t just that,” Shouto defends, “you’re both comfortable around each other. You keep having these wordless conversations that I can’t follow. And I know you’re hiding something from me. I can tell that much.”

Now Midoriya and Bakugou share one of those looks, and Shouto makes a noise as if to say see?

Bakugou sighs and says, “I’m only gonna say this once, alright? Deku’s like…ugh, Deku’s my best friend, okay? You’re annoying as fuck,” he says to Midoriya, who nods with a growing grin on his face, “but he’s always been there for me. You know the shit we’ve been through,” Bakugou says to Shouto now, “and before you and I–ha, I mean, for a while there was no one who knew me like him.”

Bakugou shifts his eyes away quickly, glancing at Midoriya and then the table.

“The whole napping thing,” Midoriya chimes in, “that was like the first time it’s ever happened. We’d had a stake out mission a few weeks back and when we’d finally come home we just passed out. It was funny, actually, since Ochako was here the two of you had taken a ton of pictures of us and sent it to the group chat. Kirishima and Kaminari both complained that Bakugou would never let them nap with him.”

Shouto cracks a small smile at the thought. He’ll have to scroll through their chat to find it. But there was no way he wasn’t going to catch Bakugou’s slip up a moment ago. Something in his brain shifts, like a crack forming and shedding light onto the smallest of gaps.

“Bakugou,” he says.

Bakugou looks at him.

“What else?”

Bakugou draws his lip into his mouth before releasing it quickly. “There’s a lot you don’t remember yet,” he says, like he’s choosing his words carefully. 

“Wouldn’t it help if you told me?” Shouto asks.

Midoriya stays quiet, looking at Bakugou, who sighs.

“It’s not that easy, Sho. It’s like you said, the doctor said to explain big changes slowly,” Bakugou’s eyebrows furrow into a look of concern, “Your memories are coming back already, I don’t want to fuck it up by rushing you.”

Shouto frowns. He understands Bakugou’s concern but at the same time he doesn’t. Shouto hasn’t had any adverse reactions to his memories coming back (aside from his false assumption). It’s not like Shouto is known for being overly emotional either. 

Across from him, Bakugou is growing more anxious. He’s still looking at Shouto but his bottom lip is in between his teeth again, biting nervously. One arm is under his chin and he is rubbing at his jaw. His apprehension is coming off of him in waves, palpable across the table. 

Shouto’s brain unintentionally darts back to his training, keeping victims comfortable and not pressing issues when they’re under duress. His goal is always to make the victim feel at ease until they can be moved to a secondary location. It was not an innate practice to Shouto but after years of hero work, he performs these duties like second nature.

Right now, it’s that second nature that has him responding, “Okay. I can wait.” 

Bakugou honestly looks surprised, his mouth falling open, and then relieved. He nods and releases a long breath. 

“Are you gonna eat now? I didn’t slave away on this meal just for you not to eat it,” Bakugou says then, his voice higher than normal.

Everyone ignores it though, and Shouto says, “I helped this time.” but he digs into the soba.

It is delicious, of course, Bakugou made it. The air in the room is much less tense now. Shouto asks Midoriya to tell him the proposal story, and Midoriya more than happily complies. Even Bakugou doesn’t complain despite Shouto knowing he’s definitely heard the story before.

The dinner feels casual and comfortable, just like they usually do. Shouto is laughing along with his friends, Rubble has slinked under the table and is resting against his toes, and the meal is good. The vibe is light and airy and Shouto can’t help but relax into it, eating happily.

They start to clean up–once again Shouto is forced to stay seated. They gather back at the table.

“You want to watch something?” Bakugou asks.

“Nah, I better get going. Ochako hates going to bed late and she can’t sleep well without me.” Midoriya says.

“Gross.” Bakugou mumbles.

Midoriya rolls his eyes, “As if you’re any better.”

Bakugou flips him off, face red.

Shouto’s stomach flips.

The trio makes their way to the door and Midoriya gets his shoes and coat on. They bid him goodbye, and then it’s just the two of them.

Unlike last time, it doesn’t feel awkward. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Shouto asks.

“Sure. Let me just change real quick. I can’t believe I’m still wearing this.”

Shouto doesn’t mind Bakugou’s outfit choice at all, actually. The pants look like they’ve been tailored exactly to him, and the sweater hugs his muscles in the perfect places.

It seems like Bakugou knows this, because when Shouto’s eyes reach his face, he’s smirking. Shouto rolls his eyes without comment.

They both make their way towards the living room, Shouto to the couch and Bakugou up the stairs. Shouto sits on the long part of the couch again, and Rubble comes into the room and jumps up on the couch with him. He pets him absentmindedly as he waits for Bakugou to come back, scrolling through movie options.

He looks up at the stairs when he hears Bakugou coming down. He’s dressed in either pajamas or lounge clothes, and when he comes up to Shouto he passes him his medicine.

“Time for the next one,” he says.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” Shouto takes the pill bottle.

Bakugou goes back around the couch and comes back a few moments later with Shouto’s glass of water. Shouto thanks him again and takes his medicine. Bakugou turns off the few lights that are on before he comes back over to the couch.

Bakugou sits on the cushion beside Shouto. Rubble is laying between them, and Bakugou kicks his legs up onto the coffee table as he settles in.

“Did you find something?”
“Not really. You can pick,” Shouto offers Bakugou the remote.

Rubble gets up with a yawn, and then jumps off the couch and climbs onto his cat tree a few feet away. The gap between the two of them widens now that Rubble isn’t there.

Shouto shifts himself closer now, just a little. They decide on some type of mystery thriller type of thing. Both of them settle more comfortably against the couch. As the movie starts the opening credits, Shouto reaches behind him and takes the blanket he’d folded and left there. He starts to unfold it over himself. He pauses for a second, contemplating not only his own feelings but also adding up different facts quickly, and then asks, “Do you want some of the blanket?”

Bakugou turns to him. They both stare at each other until Bakugou slowly nods and says, “Okay.”

Shouto shuffles himself closer again, sort of diagonal on the couch now to keep his legs stretched out. Bakugou shifts closer too, and Shouto throws the blanket over them both. Now they’re sitting side by side, arms touching. Shouto feels himself growing warm, but if he were to pump his quirk right now the cold would be extremely noticeable to Bakugou since he’s pressed directly against his ice side.

They watch the movie for about a half hour without moving. Then Bakugou shifts, lifting his left arm. Shouto sits up so as to not block him, but Bakugou clicks his tongue at the movement. Shouto freezes. Bakugou lays his left arm around the back of the couch and then gently pats Shouto’s left shoulder with his arm draped there.

Shouto understands the question behind it and so he easily tucks himself against Bakugou’s side, humming contentedly as he makes sure to keep his injured arm against his own chest. They watch the rest of the movie like that, with Shouto’s back resting partially against Bakugou’s chest and Bakugou’s hand occasionally tracing little designs over Shouto’s shoulder and bicep. 

Shouto is close to drifting off but he forces himself to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t want to fall asleep and miss any of this moment. He doesn’t focus too hard on the movie. It’s hard to anyway, with the way his mind is trying to connect all the little pieces again–but different, this time.

Clearly, Bakugou and Midoriya are hiding something. But it’s more so Bakugou’s choice than Midoriya’s based on the dinner conversation. Whatever it is makes Bakugou nervous to some degree, makes him fidgety and anxious. 

Little interactions start to pile up; the flirting from yesterday, the gentle way Bakugou has cared for him, the little quips and remarks that are so familiar to how they always act but underlined with something else. The fact that they live together and obviously chose to for a reason.

And it’s Bakugou’s choice right now to be holding Shouto too. Shouto was content to just sit the way they were. It was Bakugou who maneuvered them this way.

When the movie ends Shouto sits up with a yawn. He stretches his arms wide and turns to Bakugou, who’s watching him with a soft smile.

“Ready for bed, Sho?” Bakugou asks in a bemused voice.

Shouto nods.

They stand and straighten up, Bakugou turns off the TV and Shouto folds the blanket and puts it back on the couch. They walk up the steps together with Shouto slightly in front and Bakugou’s hand on the small of his back. At the top of the stairs they round the side and walk down the hallway. Shouto pauses in front of his doorway and Bakugou stops with him. He drops his hand and then with a stilted sort of step, Bakugou continues down to his room.

Shouto can’t help but mourn the loss of the touch and the warmth of Bakugou near him.

He clears his throat. “Um, good night, Bakugou.”

Bakugou is facing him from his doorway with a slight frown. His hand looks tight against his doorknob.

“Night, Icyhot.”

Shouto opens his door and goes into the room. He gets himself changed into pajamas and then goes to his bathroom to wash up. His happy feelings are beginning to drift away as he maneuvers around these spaces. Tonight had been pretty damn wonderful, cuddled up with Bakugou on the couch. Making dinner with him, talking and just enjoying his presence. Not having to feel guilty about it now since Midoriya isn’t an issue. And, sure, Bakugou could potentially be dating someone else, but all signs are pointing to the same conclusion.

Shouto’s stomach flips over and over itself.

He leaves the bathroom and stops in front of his doorway, hand on the doorknob. He can’t find the will to open it. The thought of having to go into this room after tonight is unbearably welcome. 

He looks to Bakugou’s door. It’s closed. The light is off. Maybe he’s already asleep.

Shouto lets his hand fall from the doorknob. He takes a step down the hall. Then another. And another and another until he’s right outside Bakugou’s door. 

He lifts a hand and knocks gently.

Tap

Tap 

Tap

He’s holding his breath and it feels utterly impossible to exhale. The seconds go by like hours. Maybe he really is asleep. Shouto’s stomach churns.

The door opens and Bakugou is there, concern written over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Shouto just stares at Bakugou. He can’t find a voice to speak with. His throat is constricting.

“I can’t sleep in there,” he barely manages above a whisper.

Bakugou’s face falls and then he’s opening the door wide and beckoning Shouto in. Shouto’s throat doesn’t loosen and he feels like he’s going to cry which is annoying because only ten seconds ago he didn’t.

The lights are off but there’s moonlight coming in the window that Shouto used to guide him. And there’s Bakugou’s hand on the small of his back, leading him into the room once the door is shut again.

One edge of the covers has been thrown back where Bakugou obviously just was. Shouto can’t ask so he just acts, going to the bed with Bakugou right behind him. He leads Shouto around the bed, to the left side.

“Lay down,” Bakugou says gently.

Shouto listens, sitting on the edge of the bed for a second and grabbing Bakugou’s wrist.

“You’ll stay, right?” he whispers.

In the moonlight, he can see Bakugou swallow.

“Yeah.”

Shouto doesn’t lay down until Bakugou is around the other side of the bed. They settle in quietly, adjusting the blankets and laying down. The middle of the bed dips due to their combined body weight and so Shouto unintentionally shifts into the center. He makes a small, halfhearted apologetic sound when their arms brush, but Bakugou says nothing nor does he move away, so Shouto stays.

He breathes out slowly and relaxes into the bed. His arm brushes against Bakugou’s again, and his hand twitches in its spot beside him. The sheets are soft against his skin and the bed is just the right side of firm but soft. The duvet over him feels like a cloud. 

He has to stay on his back because of his injuries. Bakugou stays like that too. Shouto doesn’t close his eyes, just stares up at the ceiling.

He releases another slow breath. He already feels more at ease than in his room. It’s a different kind of tension now. He’s not uncomfortable in the space–far from it–he’s just hyper aware of Bakugou beside him. He wants to touch him, to hold him. It’s suddenly an all consuming thought and his arm twitches at his side again, his hand hitting gently against Bakugou’s.

Bakugou’s hand moves and Shouto’s heart goes to his throat. But then Bakugou’s pinkie is linking with Shouto’s, pulling him slightly closer and linking their ring fingers too.

“Can–” Shouto stops abruptly.

Bakugou lets go of Shouto’s hand now and Shouto immediately mourns the loss, berates himself for talking at all. And then Bakugou is on his side and facing Shouto, gently laying his left arm across Shouto’s chest, careful to avoid his bruises. Shouto can’t help the stilted gasp that leaves his mouth and Bakugou tenses.

Shouto brings his own arm up and holds Bakugou’s wrist against his chest before he can try and move away.

“Please don’t leave,” Shouto whispers.

“Okay, okay,” Bakugou soothes. He trails his fingertips lightly over Shouto’s collarbone and chest.

A wave of comfort flows through him as they both relax into the touch. Shouto shifts closer to Bakugou, pressing his shoulder into Bakugou’s chest. Bakugou shifts once more, bringing his other arm under Shouto’s pillow so he is–finally, blessedly, fully–holding him.

They both lay quietly for a long while, breaths growing more and more relaxed and soft. Bakugou’s breaths fall softly over Shouto’s neck. His arm every so often runs over Shouto’s chest in a soft pattern. It begins to slow down, Bakugou’s breaths evening out. Shouto is close to drifting off as well. He feels incredibly safe and soft, Bakugou’s body warm and his arms strong around him. It’s the first time Shouto’s felt right since he’s been back home. And it’s that thought that makes him wake up slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

“Bakugou?” he whispers. He doesn’t know if Bakugou is even awake.

Bakugou hums in response, slow and sleepy.

“We do this often, don’t we,” he says quietly.

Bakugou’s arms tighten around him. He says nothing for a moment. Then he pulls Shouto even closer to him and says, “Yeah. We do.”

Shouto hums, laying his head a little closer to Bakugou’s, letting his hair tickle his face. He closes his eyes and lets sleep overtake him.

-=-=-=-

Shouto wakes up the next morning with an overwhelming sense of comfort and contentedness. He’s snuggled against Bakugou’s chest, laying partially on top of him with Bakugou’s arms around him. The sun is streaming in against the wall, filling the room with its warm rays. He can tell by the way Bakugou’s chest rises and falls that he’s already awake.

Shouto lifts up slightly, blinking at Bakugou. Bakugou’s eyes drift down to look at Shouto, sleepy and soft.

“G’morning,” Bakugou murmurs.

“Morning,” Shouto says, voice raspy from sleep, “Don’t you have work?” 

“Took the day off. I told you, I own that place.”

Shouto grins tiredly and sinks back against Bakugou’s chest. Bakugou tightens his arms around him. Shouto wants to snuggle in closer, so he does; he presses his face into the crook of Bakugou’s neck and just breathes. He closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Bakugou’s breaths under him and the way Bakugou slowly starts to rub Shouto’s back. 

He must doze off again because when he reopens his eyes, Bakugou is no longer there. Shouto is in Bakugou’s spot though, laying on his side with one arm curled around Bakugou’s pillow. 

He glances up towards the bathroom door a little ways away from the headboard and can hear running water coming from behind it. He carefully rolls himself over–back to the side he’d fallen asleep in last night–and finds it hurts less than yesterday. It still hurts, but the pain is thankfully duller than it has been the past few days.

There is another glass of water and his medicine on the bedside table beside him. Warmth spreads through Shouto much like the first day as he takes his medicine. 

He props himself up against the headboard and lets his eyes drift around the room since he wasn’t able to do so last night. Instantly, the room feels familiar in a way his room never has. The wall color is a cozy hunter green, and the duvet is a cream white that’s incredibly plush and pillowy. He’d felt it yesterday of course, but seeing it in the sun makes him appreciate it more. 

There’s a large wooden dresser across from the bed, and a white door on that same wall but further to the right. There’s a stack of something on the dresser. From Shouto’s vantage point it looks like a stack of picture frames, but he can’t see the top of them.

The bathroom door opens and Shouto looks over. Bakugou walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, tucking the top together as he walks.

“You take your meds?” he asks Shouto as he makes his way to the closet door.

“Mhmm,” Shouto answers, too distracted by Bakugou to respond better.

It feels like he’s in a dream. There’s steam trailing behind Bakugou as he walks, the sunlight streaming over him as he passes by the window. His hair is still wet, little droplets falling off as he walks. Some of them hit the carpeted floor while others drop onto his back and trail down.

Bakugou opens the closet door. It’s big enough that he can walk into it and he does so, now out of Shouto’s sight.

“I’ll make some breakfast for us,” Bakugou calls out from inside the closet. “Anything you want?”

“No, anything is good with me.” Shouto answers.

He’s struck by the domesticity of the moment. A casual morning. And he gets that same feeling in his brain as last night, only this time that little crack grows, the pieces molding together.

Bakugou comes back out wearing a black tank top and some cargo pants. It’s such a classic Bakugou Katsuki outfit that Shouto grins at him, his entire body feeling like it’s glowing.

“What?” Bakugou asks, his mouth quirking up, hanging his towel on the door handle.

“Nothing. You look nice,” he says as Bakugou walks over to him.

Bakugou grins fully now, stopping next to where Shouto’s still resting in bed.

Shouto holds out his hand without a thought and Bakugou takes it as if the gesture is ingrained in them. Shouto is hit with a rush of memories of this exact thing, holding his hand out and Bakugou coming up to him. Only next in the memories Bakugou leans in and places a kiss against Shouto’s forehead. 

This time though, Bakugou lifts a hand and brushes Shouto’s bangs off his face, smiling softly at him.

“Come down when you feel up for it, okay?” Bakugou says.

Shouto nods, stunned by his thoughts. Bakugou gives one final ruffle of his hair and then turns and walks out of the room. Shouto hears Rubble meow at him and then hears their footsteps retreating.

Shouto doesn’t move for a few minutes, his mind racing over these thoughts. They were real. They had to be.

Shouto more or less jumps out of bed, hissing in pain as he moves too quickly to stand up. He rushes to the bathroom. The differences between this bathroom and his are stark. There are products across the vanity, lined up but not in the hotel-like manner of his bathroom. There’s two toothbrushes in the toothbrush holder, the familiar bottle of Shouto’s burn cream, and Shouto’s own watch resting on the sink.

Shouto lets out a breathless laugh, picking up his watch. It’s undoubtedly his. Endeavor had given it to him when he’d graduated from UA. He runs a hand against the counter of the sink and looks at himself in the mirror.

God, he really is an idiot sometimes.

He walks back out of the bathroom and goes to the dresser where those pictures were laying, a pretty clear idea about what he’s going to find. The very top photo is of Shouto and Bakugou, sitting in a restaurant booth side by side. Both of their faces are pink, Shouto has a tiny smile on his face while Bakugou is scowling and looking off to the side. Their hands are linked on the top of the table, in between their plates.

Shouto’s heart clenches tightly in his chest and he runs his finger down that picture. Whoever has taken the picture is across from them in the booth, and Shouto’s mind can’t help but supply Midoriya and Ochako as the people across from them.

A double date.

The picture under this one is of the two of them again, but from behind. They're sitting in the sand of a beach, the sun setting in front of them. They’re shadowed slightly, but it’s clearly the two of them. Bakugou is leaning against Shouto’s side, his right arm behind Shouto.

The last one resting on the dresser is yet again the two of them. Shouto can’t help the bark of a laugh that escapes his mouth when he sees it. It must be some sort of costume party, because they’re both dressed up. Except it’s not something like a vampire or a witch. Bakugou is dressed in Shouto’s hero costume while Shouto’s wearing Bakugou’s own hero costume. Bakugou has a completely blank expression on his face while Shouto is snarling at the camera and flipping it off.

Shouto feels a rush of emotions fill him. He feels like he could fly, giddy and excited with the uncontrollable need to go downstairs and cover Bakugou in kisses.

First, though, he goes to “his” bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He doesn’t bother changing out of his pajamas, not wanting to waste more time. An idea strikes him and he instantly needs to do it.

When he comes into the kitchen, Bakugou is at the stove with a pan sizzling in front of him. Shouto takes a moment to just admire Bakugou, the way he oozes comfortability as he cooks.

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Hmm?”

“When were you going to tell me you gave me this hickey?”

The spatula in Bakugou’s hand clatters to the floor as he drops it, cursing and whipping his head to look at Shouto all while scrambling to catch the spatula.

Shouto laughs openly and loudly at the twisted stance Bakugou is in, half turned around and bent slightly in his attempt to catch the spatula.

“The fuck, Shouto?” he asks, straightening up with a bewildered look as Shouto starts to walk forward.

“The hickey, Katsuki. Or are you trying to tell me someone else gave this to me?” Shouto asks, placing a hand on his shirt where the hickey is below as he encroaches on Bakugou’s space.

Bakugou tries to take a step back but Shouto darts his arm out and grabs his waist.

“Careful. Stove is hot,” he says.

He sends a flash of heat into his palm, not hot enough to hurt but enough that Bakugou can feel it. Bakugou jumps forward because of it, closing the distance between them more. Now that they’re so close, Bakugou has to crane his neck a bit to look Shouto in his eyes.

“Don’t be a dick,” Bakugou says, a flush high in his cheeks, and his hands settle on Shouto’s hips.

Shouto’s entire being feels lighter than air. “You like it,” he says.

Bakugou lifts an eyebrow at him, eyes bright, and he tightens his hold on Shouto’s hips. “What’s going on here, Halfie?”

Shouto opens his mouth to answer, to continue with the playful environment, but he finds his throat starts to tighten. He takes just a second to compose himself and then says, “I love you.” He’s not surprised at all when his voice is choked up.

Bakugou’s face scrunches up and he pulls Shouto into a tight hug, shoving his face into Shouto’s neck. It hurts a little, Shouto’s bruises stinging, but he holds Bakugou just as tightly. Bakugou is sniffling against him, and Shouto’s own eyes are wet.

Bakugou’s next sentence is almost totally muffled against Shouto’s neck and the thick emotion in his voice, but Shouto can just make it out.

“I was so scared you wouldn’t remember.”

“I know,” Shouto whispers, running a hand up and down Bakugou’s back, “I’m so sorry.”

Bakugou pulls back and looks Shouto in the eyes, “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault, Shouto.”

Bakugou lifts one of his hands and wipes away the fallen tears from Shouto’s face. Shouto laughs wetly, cupping Bakugou’s face and mirroring the action.

“Is it weird to ask to kiss you right now?” Shouto asks. 

Bakugou doesn’t answer, just lifts onto his toes and Shouto meets him in the middle. Logically, Shouto knows this is not their first kiss, but it feels like it in the moment. His heart soars, his whole being sings in elation. Bakugou’s lips are plush and inviting. Completely and utterly familiar. He tastes slightly like mint and the coffee he must be sipping, and Shouto hums into it, completely content.

When they separate to take a breath, Shouto doesn’t let Bakugou go far. He pulls him back into a hug and Bakugou lets him without issue, laughing breathlessly. The sound of the pan sizzling has grown in volume and Shouto peeks past Bakugou’s hair and sees smoke rising from it.

“Oh shit, what are you making?” he asks, reaching to move the pan.

Bakugou flips around too, cursing and moving the pan off the flame. He dumps the sausages that were cooking onto a waiting plate, the underside of them a bit more charred than necessary.

“I like them like that.” Shouto says.

“I know you don’t,” Bakugou says, shoving Shouto with his hip as he turns off the burner.

He turns back to face him, coming close again. “So, what the fuck? You remember everything? What happened?”

Shouto takes Bakugou’s hand in his just because he wants to and just because he can, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“I’m not one hundred percent. But I know that we’re dating. I know that I love you.” Shouto says.

Bakugou switches their hand hold, tightening and lacing his fingers through Shouto’s.

“How’d it happen?”

“Well, I’m very smart, Katsuki.”

Bakugou laughs and shakes his head, muttering, “Dumbass.”

“Like I said yesterday, I knew you and Midoriya were hiding something. Obviously, it wasn’t what I thought–”

“Yeah, no shit–”

“So I kept thinking about everything.” Shouto raises an eyebrow, “You know, if you were trying to hide the fact that we were dating, you probably shouldn’t have been flirting with me.” 

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well, it’s hard to not to when we’ve been dating for four fucking years.”

Shouto can’t wipe the grin off his face, even as he continues talking.

“I was really stressed out when I thought you were dating Midoriya. Since, well, since I liked you a lot already. I thought I was being really obvious and that you or Midoriya would get mad at me.”

“God, you’re the worst.” Bakugou says, shoving Shouto’s shoulder with his free hand, “I can’t believe you thought I was dating Deku. Imagine that? When I’ve been basically pining after you since we graduated.”

Shouto grins. “Really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, idiot. I wasn’t happy about it.”

“That makes me feel so loved, Katsuki. Truly.”

“Fuck off, you dick. I love you more than I should. You’re on my mind constantly. I was so…god, I was so fucking scared when you got hurt. It was all my fucking fault.”

Shouto thinks back to their conversation over dinner about the fight. “What did you yell? You never said. I could tell you didn’t want to tell me so I didn’t ask.”

“At least that brain works sometimes,” Bakugou murmurs and then leans forward and lets his head hit Shouto’s chest with a dull thunk. He mumbles something that Shouto can’t understand.

“What?”
“I catcalled you!” Bakugou yells, still not sitting up, “Shit. I yelled some dumbass shit about your ass in those pants and you turned to me with that stupid gorgeous smile and got fucking clobbered in the side of the head.”

A laugh bubbles up without Shouto meaning to, the wording catching him completely off guard.

“It’s not funny!” Bakugou protests, lifting up his head now that Shouto is belly laughing.

“I love you so much,” Shouto says through laughs, and he steps forward to wrap Bakugou in a hug.

“You were obvious, by the way,” Bakugou says from where his cheek is smushed against Shouto’s shoulder. “Subtlety is not your strong suit, babe. You kept looking at me. And your face when I was kneeling in front of you? Like it was the first time you were about to get your dick sucked.”

Shouto hums in agreement, “Well, you’d know.”

“Damn right I’d know. Now let me finish making your breakfast. Get the plates.”

Shouto complies and it doesn’t take too long for the food to be done. Bakugou plates two eggs, some sausages, and a handful of berries on both their plates. Neither of them want to sit at the table, instead carrying their plates to the couch and sitting close enough so their knees touch.

“Alright, so. What else? What jogged your memory?”

“Mostly you.” Shouto answers truthfully, not trying to be flirty. It still makes Bakugou’s face flush. “The way you were acting. And the pictures on the dresser. They were on the wall there, right?” Shouto points to the mismatched frames and the weirdly spaced out spots.

“Yeah, they were. I kind of…didn’t know what to do with all the shit that made it obvious we’re dating, so when Kirishima came to get your clothes I told him to move all of it to our room.”

“Oh my god,” Shouto gasps in sudden realization, “I can’t believe you were making me sleep in our guest room! Did Kirishima set that up too?”

Bakugou sputters, “What was I supposed to do! Force you to sleep next to me? I wasn’t even sure you’d know you had feelings for me, how was I supposed to casually throw in the fact that we share a bed?”

“No, you’re right. It’s…funny looking back at it now. The guest room was the one room I had no memories attached to. It creeped me out, honestly.”

Bakugou sucks his teeth, looking apologetic, “I wasn’t sure what to do. We always keep the guest room set up, so I figured it’d be easier to just tell Kirishima to move some clothes and shit then get rid of all our stuff from our room and have you sleep there.”

“I get it. I’m just glad I don’t have some kind of traumatic event attached to the room,” Shouto pouts slightly, “I thought that was why it made me so uncomfortable.”

Bakugou shakes his head, “Nah, you just haven’t spent any time in that room. I think the most time either of us have spent in there is moving in that furniture.”

Shouto’s stomach growls before he can say something more. Bakugou points silently to Shouto’s plate. Shouto does so, if only to just keep talking after.

“Do you remember when we started dating?” Bakugou asks after they’ve both had another bite.

Shouto shakes his head no, “Not the specific date. Not yet. But in my memories right now, I’ve already liked you since I was twenty, twenty-one. And we must have started dating after my memory stops, which is when I’m twenty-three.”

Bakugou nods.

“So, it wasn’t weird for me to like you this whole time. Honestly, that made it harder for me to think we were actually dating. I kept convincing myself it was wishful thinking.”

Bakugou smirks. “Wow, Icyhot, I mean that much to you? Were you dreaming about me?”

Shouto’s face burns and he shoves some food into his mouth. He had dreamt of him, but not the way Bakugou is probably hoping.

“Anyway,” Shouto breathes out–Bakugou’s smirk grows but he lets Shouto change the subject–“I just need to focus on getting more memories back now.”

“Hell yeah. How, um, how are you feeling now? About remembering…this?” Bakugou asks.

Shouto’s heart pulls. He places his plate onto the table and Bakugou follows suit, letting Shouto crowd his space on the couch.

“This is the best I’ve felt since everything's happened. I really, really love you, Katsuki. And having you with me even when I knew I was forgetting something made me feel better.” 

Bakugou breathes out, looking relieved. Shouto doesn’t like that Bakugou was still worried about Shouto’s feelings. He brings Bakugou into another kiss, trying to express exactly how he feels.

He knows Bakugou understands him by the way Bakugou smiles into the kiss, lacing his arms around Shouto’s neck.

“Okay, okay,” Bakugou pulls back and laughs when Shouto chases after him, “don’t try and get out of eating. You need to eat your fruit.”

“Ochako said sweets are needed to heal too,” Shouto points out as he dutifully picks back up his plate.

“Fruit first.”

Shouto stabs a blueberry with his fork and bites into it with a grin.

-=-=-=-

As the days go on, Shouto continues to remember more and more. He and Bakugou look at plenty of photos and scrapbooks—apparently Shouto has become quite fond of having a physical album of his photos. A lot of them help bring up his memories and the ones that don’t Bakugou is happy to tell him their stories. 

Shouto refuses to stay cooped up inside anymore so he starts to take walks in a park near their apartment. He takes different routes each time, some stirring up memories of feeding ducks with Bakugou, playing in the small playground with Eri, and even a rather embarrassing memory of eating shit while falling off a bike all on his own.

Midoriya comes by frequently too, accompanied by Ochako once Shouto feels ready for more people. It’s almost hysterical when Shouto sees Ochako for the first time since the attack, because he’s hit with vivid memories of them sitting on this very couch gossiping about their respective partners. Ochako lovingly berates him for forgetting about her engagement, flashing her ring at Shouto. That stirs up even more memories of being with Midoirya to help pick it out, and the numerous hints Ochako had dropped about what she wanted.

His doctor's appointment goes well when it arrives a week later. His bruising is healing correctly and his stitches can be taken out. Doctor Hong is pleased with his memory progress and tells them to continue what they’re doing.

The days turn into weeks and Shouto continues to improve. He goes back to work on desk duty, and is more than pleased to find out his memories of the agency are almost all intact. His filing system, his office, coworkers and the layout of the building. He, Midoriya, and Bakugou are in real discussions of working together. Shouto’s memories of past conversations of the topic begin to surface as well and they begin to make more concrete plans.

There are, of course, still things Shouto needs to be reminded of.

Like when Bakugou comes home from work to find Shouto curled up on the couch, clutching his stomach with three empty chocolate milk boxes next to him.

Bakugou laughs, “Holy fuck, Sho, you know you can’t drink more than one of those a day or you’ll get this shits.”

Shouto hadn’t appreciated his phrasing, thank you very much, but Bakugou had kissed him in apology so he supposes it didn’t matter all that much anyway.

On Kirishima’s birthday a large group of them all get together. Shouto has to be reminded of who moved where or switched agencies when, but everyone takes it in stride, happy to see him and happy that he’s okay. 

By the end of the month, Shouto estimates that about 80% of his memories have returned. All big events over the past four years he’s almost positive he remembers, and he has no issues recalling them over again once they return. But even still, he knows Bakugou will be there to guide him when he’s lost.

Shouto doesn’t always take it well, though. He gets frustrated with himself when he doesn’t remember things right, or has a false memory when his brain tries to fill in any gaps. There are tears and more than one angry outburst when Shouto gets too overwhelmed.

It helps to have Bakugou beside him. To wake up with Bakugou right there and to fall asleep side by side. To have him to cry and laugh with. 

Shouto is grateful to have him help remember old memories. But, he’s even more grateful to have Bakugou to make new memories with.