#i've been sittin on this one for a long time whoops

[maxinemaxmayfield]

sink your teeth before i disappear explicit | 4k | steddie | 18+ only

steddie, pre-relationship, established ronance, panic attacks, flashbacks, virgin!eddie, sharing a bed, cuddling & snuggling, interrupted masturbation, mutual masturbation, hand jobs, biting, marking

“I’ve never really slept with anyone before,” Eddie admits quietly, not sure if Steve is even still awake. Steve turns around awkwardly, trying to keep Eddie’s arm wrapped around his waist as he rolls over to face him. “Like�� sex, or just actually sleeping next to someone?” OR Sharing a room leads to sharing a bed leads to sharing... more

[read on ao3] read on tumblr below

WEDNESDAY

“So they would rather you sleep in a bed with Nancy? ” Steve asks in disbelief as he stacks the returns. 

Robin rolls her eyes at him. “Duh. They don’t know I’m of the, uh, lavender persuasion,” she reminds him, lowering her voice with a quick scan of the store.

It’s fairly quiet, especially for a rainy Wednesday during summer break. Just a couple of teens milling about through the stacks, trying to decide on a movie. 

“And I’m pretty sure they still think I’m secretly dating you… though they have finally learned to stop asking.”

Robin’s parents had managed to secure a modest cabin by the lake for the long weekend. Steve could never quite get it straight – Robin’s mom’s brother’s wife… or was it her cousin’s husband? Nevertheless, someone who was somehow related to Robin had a cabin they weren’t using, and rather than leave it sitting empty, they had invited her parents to use it. Robin had agreed to go if she could bring a friend or two… which quickly turned into three, because she just couldn’t take Nancy and Steve and leave Eddie all alone for the weekend. And they were all thick as thieves after what happened during spring break. 

“Anyway, I thought you’d be happy to be sharing with Eddie,” Robin says, tossing Steve a meaningful look. God, he regrets telling her about his ill-advised crush.

Come Thursday evening, they pack into two cars and drive up to Lake Michigan, looking forward to spending their days swimming and their nights around the fire. 

– – –

THURSDAY

The cabin isn’t anything fancy – a simple wooden structure tucked between the trees – but it’s right on the lake, has its own small dock hosting a tiny row boat that looks like three passengers would probably capsize it. 

Robin shows them around the cabin, pointing out her and Nancy’s room, her parents’ room, and finally, tucked back in the corner behind the kitchen, Steve and Eddie’s room. 

Their room is the only one with separate twin beds. Steve isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

Everyone leaves to get settled in their own rooms, and Steve stands there with his old sports bag in hand, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“So, uh, which bed do you want?” he asks. 

Eddie throws himself down on top of the bed furthest from the door, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “This one – you can protect me from any evil entities of the night.”

“Unless they come in through the window,” Steve points out, setting his things down on the bed nearest the door. 

“Well, shit,” Eddie groans, eyes darting between the window and Steve. “Don’t fucking say that!” 

Steve laughs and throws himself onto his own bed, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“So, Harrington, do you snore? Tell me now, so I can prepare myself," Eddie says.

“Nah, but I do sleep in the nude.” 

Eddie’s smile falters and Steve can’t help but smirk. He doesn’t offer up any more information, letting Eddie dwell on whether or not he was joking. 

“I, uh, I sleepwalk, sometimes,” Eddie tells him, and then falls silent, dropping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling like he might find a script there. 

“Should make for an interesting night,” Steve says, trying not to laugh when Eddie’s eyes flick over to him before going back to the ceiling. “C’mon, let’s go see if they need help with dinner,” Steve says, pushing himself off the mattress and holding out a hand to help Eddie up. 

It’s still raining after dinner, so they sit around the little fireplace, playing board games and listening to music until it’s time to turn in for the night. 

Steve stands next to his bed for a moment, looking down at the pajamas he’d packed. He glances up, but Eddie’s busying himself with removing his rings one by one and setting them down on the nightstand. 

Steve strips out of his shorts and t-shirt, hesitating at the edge of his boxers, wondering if it’s worth it for the bit. Eddie’s back is to him. He makes his decision, leaving them on and climbing into bed, arranging the covers to hide his boxers but show as much skin as possible elsewhere. 

Just to mess with him. 

When Eddie turns back, he lets out something between a yelp and a squeak.

Steve pulls back the blanket with a flourish, watching Eddie’s eyes go wide and then narrow when he realizes what’s underneath. 

“You dick.”

“I mean, I usually would sleep naked, but I thought I’d be modest for the sake of my temporary roommate,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. 

Eddie climbs into his own bed, burrowing under the blankets. “Well, don’t change your habits on my account.” 

Steve chuckles and turns off his bedside lamp. “I’ll keep that in mind. ‘Night, Eds.” 

“Night.”

– – –

FRIDAY

Luckily, the rain has cleared up by Friday morning, the sun peaking out from behind the clouds and warming their skin. 

After breakfast, they don their swimsuits and head out to the edge of the lake. Nancy and Robin drag out a deck chair and curl up side-by-side, while Steve walks out onto the dock, turning around just before he reaches the end. 

“You coming for a swim?” he calls to Eddie, arms spread wide and displaying the expanse of his chest. 

Eddie plops himself down on a towel next to Nancy and Robin. “Are you kidding? The water’s freezing.”  

“Whatever, you big chicken!” And with that, he turns around and dives, cutting through the surface of the calm water. 

Eddie sits back and watches the gleam of Steve’s back as he slices through the water with ease, years of swimming making him more graceful in water than on land. It’s mesmerizing. 

“You might wanna pick your jaw up off the ground,” Robin quips, looking at him over the frame of her sunglasses. “Once you’re done ogling, I mean.”

Eddie huffs, shaking his head. “What? No! I’m not – Steve’s just–”

Nancy leans around Robin to fix him with a dubious look. “Oh please, don’t even deny it.”

“This is bullying. You’re bullying me,” Eddie accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. “Two against one isn’t a fair fight.” 

He doesn’t hear what Nancy says next, because there’s a disturbance out in the water. Steve has stopped swimming smoothly and seems to be thrashing, struggling against something they can’t see, trying to get back to shore.

Eddie’s throat closes up with panic. 

He jumps to his feet, shouts out and points, and Robin and Nancy are on his heels as they run out to the end of the dock. 

Just like that fateful night on Lover’s Lake, Nancy doesn’t hesitate. She jumps in and swims towards Steve, methodically, uniform strokes spurring her forward. She reaches him quickly and pulls him the rest of the way to the shore.

He’s sputtering and shaking, on all fours as he reaches the grassy edge of the lake, and Robin’s right there beside him, wrapping him in a towel, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, speaking to him in soft, calm, hushed tones. 

Eddie stands to the side, heart racing, chest tight. He feels useless, a spare part, unsure whether to come closer or give them space. All he can do is watch helplessly, a cruel parallel of when Steve was pulled through Watergate. Flight or freeze, never fight. 

Coward. 

Robin is placing Steve’s hands flat on the earth, helping him ground himself, still babbling away about where he is and what is going on around him. Eddie is in awe of how she always knows what Steve needs in these moments. 

“The vines… grabbed me,” Steve mumbles, breathing fast and shallow. Robin drapes herself against his back, contrasting with deep and slow breaths, pressing a hand to his chest. 

“Steve, we’re at Lake Michigan. No gate here, we’re not even in Hawkins,” Robin reminds him again, patience of a saint. “We’re safe, we’re safe, I promise you, we’re safe. It was just a plant.” 

“Nancy –”

“– pulled you out of the water, she’s right here,” Robin says, pointing her out. 

“And Eddie –”

“– is also right here, he’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.” Robin turns to Nancy and Eddie. “Can you help me get him up? I’ll take him inside, give him something warm and something sugary, it should help with the shakiness. And then he’ll probably need to sleep for a while when he comes down from this.”

Eddie swoops in to support one side of Steve and the three of them hoist him to his feet, leaving the lake behind them. 

Steve’s voice drifts through the darkness later that night. “Hey, Eds, you awake?” 

“Yeah.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

There’s silence for a while, not awkward, but comfortable. Until Steve breaks it. 

“Can I… would it be alright if I laid in your bed for a bit?” 

Eddie nods before he realizes Steve can’t see him. “Yeah, of course.”

There’s a rustle, footsteps, and then the mattress next to him dips as Steve slides under the blankets. Heat radiates off his chest.

It’s a small bed, so they don’t have much choice for positions. Eddie ends up curled around Steve’s back, an arm thrown around his waist to stop himself from rolling off the edge. 

“This is nice,” Steve whispers, wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist and pulling him tighter around him. Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before speaking again. “Is it weird if I say I was kind of hoping we’d have to share a bed this weekend? I just… I hate sleeping alone.” 

Eddie chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Don’t you usually sleep alone?”

“Yeah.” 

Steve doesn’t expand on his answer, doesn’t offer anything more. They lie there pressed together, letting their breath synchronize. 

“I’ve never really slept with anyone before,” Eddie admits quietly, not sure if Steve is even still awake. 

Steve turns around awkwardly, trying to keep Eddie’s arm wrapped around his waist as he rolls over to face him. “Like… sex, or just actually sleeping next to someone?” 

Both, but he feels a bit stupid admitting the first one to Steve Harrington, renowned lady’s man. He’s heard enough rumors to know the guy gets around. And, well, Eddie isn’t exactly spoiled for choice in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“I mean, I've had sleepovers and shit, slept next to people but… never, I dunno, cuddled?” The last part comes out as a question, like he isn’t sure if that is actually what they’re doing. 

Steve moves closer then, right up in Eddie’s face, tucking his own arm around Eddie’s waist. “And do you like it? Cuddling?”

Eddie’s not sure if it’s embarrassment or the body heat coming from Steve that makes his face feel so warm. “I, uh, I think so.”

“Well, maybe you need a bit more experience to make sure,” Steve says, mischief in his voice. And with that, he rolls onto his back, pulling Eddie with him so he face-plants right onto Steve’s bare chest. Two solid arms come up to wrap around him, one landing between his shoulder blades and the other settling in the dip of his lower back. Steve buries his face in Eddie’s curls and hums. 

Eddie shuffles a bit, turning his head to un-squish his nose from Steve’s pec. The hand between his shoulder blades moves up to card through his hair, fingertips pressing deliciously into his scalp and sending tingles all the way down to his toes. 

Eddie’s head is spinning, overwhelmed by the smell and feel and sound of Steve all around him. He yearns for all of this to mean something, but he’s seen Steve with Robin – how close they get, how easy it is for Steve to throw an arm around her and pull her in for a hug, press a kiss to the top of her head or tip of her nose, how they cuddle up on the couch when they watch a movie. And they make sure everyone knows that it’s strictly platonic. So why would this be anything different? 

He can enjoy it for tonight, though, so he burrows back down into the hair on Steve’s chest, tracing the line of muscle underneath with his finger. He feels Steve shiver and shift, run his hand back down Eddie’s neck and trace over each vertebrae of his spine through his thin t-shirt, getting slower and slower until his hand slips from Eddie’s back completely, coming to rest on the mattress behind him as his chest rises and falls, even and slow, dozing off.

Eddie presses soft, barely-there kisses to the skin beneath his lips for what feels like hours until his eyes droop and he, too, drifts into sleep. 

When he wakes, Steve is gone and he can hear the shower on. He grabs the pillow that still smells like Steve and buries his face in it, pretending it’s only to help ease the crick in his neck.

– – –

SATURDAY

“I don’t know what else to do, Robin!” Steve whines, exasperated. “If I get any more forward with my flirting, I’ll just be straight up asking him to blow me.”

Robin wrinkles her nose at him before going back to applying sunscreen to her legs. “Why don’t you just ask him out, like a normal person?” 

“I don’t know how to do that with guys, Robs, much less one who’s my friend!” 

It’s true, he knows how to hit on girls he barely knows, asks the odd guy in a gay bar to go out back with him. But Eddie? It’s different.

“Why are you being so difficult? Go inside right now and say, ‘Eddie Munson, would you like to go on a date with me?’ That’s it!” Robin hisses. 

Steve flops down onto the wooden dock, squinting up at the sun. “This coming from the girl who took three months to ask out Nancy Wheeler.”

Another voice drifts over, drawing nearer. “Yeah, but at least she actually fucking did it.” Steve turns his head to the side and shields his eyes, watching Nancy sit down next to Robin and dangle her toes into the water. “Steve Harrington, stop being a big baby and just go ask him.”

He sticks his tongue out at the both of them and reaches down, cupping some water in his hand before flinging it towards the girls, spraying them with the cold water of the lake. 

- - -

At first, Eddie can’t figure out what woke him. He takes stock of his body - he doesn’t need a piss, he’s not too hot or cold, he doesn’t think he had a nightmare. So he turns his attention to the room, and that’s when he hears it. 

It’s too familiar of a noise for him not to figure it out immediately, especially when paired with heavy breaths coming from the other side of the room. 

Oh. 

He cracks open an eye, and the room’s washed in cool, dim light from the moon outside the window. He can just make out the outline of Steve, lying on his back, hand moving rhythmically under the covers. His head’s dropped back, mouth open slightly, neck stretched out like it’s begging to be bitten. 

Eddie feels arousal rush through him and he squeezes his eyes shut again, trying not to move or draw attention to himself. He doesn’t want to make this any weirder than it already is. 

But he can’t stop himself from hearing it.

There’s a sharp inhale, followed by a string of little ‘ah-ah-ah’ sounds, and then – 

Eddie must be dreaming, or hallucinating, or maybe he died in the Upside Down and this is his eternal torture, because he swears it, there’s no mistaking it – a long groan followed by “Eddie.”

He can’t help but peek over, sees Steve grab a handful of tissues from his nightstand and clean himself up, tuck himself back into his boxers and roll over, facing the opposite wall. 

Eddie’s ears are burning, his mind on a loop, playing those sounds and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie over and over again. 

He wants to scream, wants to sing, wants to go jump in the lake, wants to run back to Hakwins, wants to climb into Steve’s bed and grind against him. Shit, there’s a thought. 

He adjusts his pajamas, hoping Steve doesn’t hear the creaky springs. He wills himself to calm down, but his dick has other ideas, aching for relief. 

Eddie glances over at Steve’s bed again. He’s quiet now, breathing slow and probably sleeping. And hey, if Steve did it, why can’t Eddie? Fair’s fair and all that. 

Slowly, carefully, he rolls onto his left side and reaches his right hand down the front of his pants. Fuck, he’s so hard and he can still hear Steve’s voice ringing in his ear. His breathing is shaky and he keeps glancing back to check that Steve’s still not moving. 

But Eddie’s never been good at staying quiet, muttered swears spilling from his lips as his breath comes quicker. He manages to swallow Steve’s name, biting his lips together and exhaling sharply through his nose. 

“Eddie?”

He freezes. This isn’t the chorus of whispered Eddies in his head… this is a question, and it’s real.

Steve’s awake.  

He debates not even answering, just pretending to be asleep, but then he hears the other bed creak and Steve’s feet hit the floor, like he’s about to cross the room and check on him. So he turns his head. 

“Yeah?”

Steve’s sitting on his bed facing Eddie, both feet on the floor like he was about to stand. “Were you… touching yourself?” 

“No, I –,” Eddie starts to lie, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, what it even means. Steve reaches for the lamp and switches it on. If he looked good in the cool light of the moon, he looks incredible in the warm wash from the lightbulb. 

“You can keep going. If you want,” Steve offers. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and Eddie wants to feel it sweep across his teeth.

He doesn’t take his eyes off Steve as he rolls over and takes himself in hand once more, looking for any sign that Steve was kidding or pulling some kind of sick prank. But all Steve does is watch him back, eyes darting down to Eddie’s hand moving under the sheets.

“You – can you move the covers?” Steve asks, his voice pitched slightly higher than Eddie’s used to hearing. 

Eddie tries to push them down with his free hand, kicking with his feet to pull them down past his hips, but they just tangle and twist instead. And then Steve’s standing, crossing the short space between them and reaching out for the sheets. 

“Can I–?” 

Eddie nods, and Steve slides his fingers under the edge of the blanket. Steve’s knuckles brush against Eddie’s stomach and he can’t help but shiver at the sensation, thinking of where else he’d like Steve to touch him. 

The night air is cool after the heat that had built under the covers, and Steve kneels at the foot of the bed, still watching like he’s mesmerized. Eddie slows his movements, props himself up on one elbow. 

“Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snap up to his, pupils blown and mouth slack. 

“Just – fuck – c’mere,” Eddie whines, and Steve doesn’t hesitate. He darts forward, hovering over Eddie’s body, one hand cradling the side of Eddie’s head. 

Eddie surges up, kisses him hard and messy, and Steve dips down to meet him. Eddie feels a hand close over his own, tightening the grip and urging him on faster. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” Steve pants against his lips, and Eddie thinks that his name in Steve’s mouth is the prettiest sound in the entire world.

Eddie can’t stop his hips from bucking up into both of their fists, desperate and aching. “Fuck, fuck, Steve… bite my neck?”

“What?”

“Bite my neck,” he repeats, dropping his head to the side to get his point across. 

Steve ducks down, licks and sucks and grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin there, but he doesn’t bite. And Eddie’s getting close. 

“You can… you can actually bite, like, with teeth,” Eddie manages, and that seems to do it, because the next thing he knows, he feels Steve’s teeth sink into the flesh of his neck, just beneath his ear, and his tongue sweeps over to soothe the marks no doubt left behind. 

Eddie slings his free arm around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him there, letting him nip and lave in turn until Eddie’s gripping the sheets and biting back a shout as he comes over both of their hands. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes into Steve’s hair, arms drooping over the edge of the bed like wilted flowers. “Holy shit.”

“Shit,” Steve agrees. “You okay?”

“Fucking fantastic, actually. You?”

Steve laughs softly. “Pretty damn good. Sorry for waking you.”

“Oh, you are wholeheartedly forgiven,” Eddie says. Not that he was mad about it in the first place, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’ll just, uh…” Steve stands and makes a move towards his own bed. Eddie catches his wrist. 

“You don’t like sleeping alone, right?” 

Steve shakes his head. 

“So sleep here. With me.”

– – –

SUNDAY

When Eddie wakes up, the sun is shining through the window, brightening the room. The sounds of voices and dishes drift in from the kitchen, along with the smell of bacon. His stomach grumbles. 

Eddie tosses on the first some-what clean clothes he can find, gathers his mess of frizzy curls up in a bun and heads out the door, ready to eat a frankly disgusting amount of breakfast. 

Robin’s parents are just rinsing their plates when he arrives, getting an early start out on a hike up the edge of the lake apparently. He slides into one of their vacated seats, grabs a plate and loads it with pancakes and bacon before dousing the whole lot in syrup. 

It isn’t until he shoves the first huge bite in his mouth that he realizes Robin and Nancy are staring at him bug-eyed and slack-jawed. 

“What?” he asks, through a mouthful of food. 

They both shake their heads frantically, Robin throwing a look at her parents who are busy discussing whether or not it might rain later. Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Everything is quiet apart from the sound of Eddie’s fork scraping on the plate and Mr and Mrs Buckley’s voices, until they tell them all they’ll be back in a couple hours and close the door behind them. 

“What the actual hell!”

“Jesus Christ, did you get attacked by a vampire?”

There’s an explosion of shouting from both Robin and Nancy, while Steve doubles over laughing. 

Eddie’s baffled. “Fuck are you talking about?” 

“Dude! Your neck!” Robin says, handing him a large metal spoon. 

He moves it around, trying to get the right angle, and finds a massive, distorted red and purple splotch on his neck. His eyes immediately fly to Steve, who is just managing to get his giggles under control. 

“Hey, man, don’t look at me. It was your idea,” he says, sipping some coffee from his mug. “I was just following orders.”

“Ew,” Robin says, pushing her plate away. “Way to ruin my appetite.”

“Bullshit, Buckley, you were done anyway.”

Eddie raps his knuckles on the wooden tabletop, drawing their attention back to him. “Uh, you’re all acting suspiciously cavalier about this.”

Robin and Nancy glance at each other. “We had a bet going,” Nancy says. “About how long it would be until it happened."

Eddie gapes at them, not even sorry that he still has some half-chewed pancakes in his mouth.

“I am gonna insist you cover that up before my parents get back, though,” Robin says. “I don’t wanna deal with their awkward questions about where you got it.”

“God, I hate you all,” Eddie says, piling more pancakes and bacon onto his plate. 

[katsukisbeatingheart]

another round

you try to pick a fight and propose all in the same night.

word count: 1803

ao3!

Neon swirled in and out of focus. It reminded you of something important and unpleasant, and you were certain you’d spent the night trying to forget.

Since you couldn’t quite remember, you figured you’d won—and with that, you mentally jotted down a glowing tally mark on a scoreboard you wore on your sleeve.

Somewhere in the back, Pearl Jam played in a broken record on the juke box, and the gradual thump of the bass nearly knocked you to your feet. Inebriated as you were, you held on to that feeble consciousness and clutched at the bar stool in front of you.

You found shaky bearings, and steadied yourself with slicked palms on the laminated countertop, finding patterns and familiar faces in the hardwood. Squinting crudely at the shadows, you scrutinized each shape with all of the enmity you could muster to no avail.

You knew you were looking for something, and you knew it made you mad, but the buzz in your brain derailed your train of thought. With a frustrated huff, your scrunched nose reddened with a fury, and the clock ticked away the night.

...

The door swung open and closed and the figure that strode in with an impassive gait, drew a collection of eyes. Hands tucked into pockets of jeans sloping way too low along the waist, Katsuki slinked to the bar top, dropping into the seat furthest from people.

Which was only one chair away from a statuesque silhouette, silently enamoured with something he figured was embedded into the counter. He watched silently out of the corner of his eye wondering what this idiot could be doing—before his attention turned to the tender on the other side offering him a drink. Katsuki placed an order and waited for it to slide his way.

A few deathly still moments later and Bakugo was suddenly clutching a glass in one hand, as he rubbed the exhaustion away from his eyes with the other.

The bartender moved in on you sitting completely still, looking a little concerned.

“You alright?”

“Dumb faces in your counter. Needs fixing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be lookin’ at yourself in it then,” Bakugo smirked to himself.

You lolled your head to face him.

“Try me, bitch,” you slurred, with as much of an incisive bite a drunken tongue could have.

His red eyes tuned into you, raising an eyebrow in slight surprise. He admired your spunk—not without noticing the headache crawling up the sides of his head.

"You really think you should be picking a fight like that?"

"Hey! You started it," you mumbled childishly. "'Sides, I could take you."

Bakugo was growing more amused now.

"That so? What makes you so sure?" He challenged.

"Met things way scarier than you."

Bakugo didn't want to think about the ominous implications of that. He furrowed his glare into the glass he twirled in his hands.

He didn't say anything.

Silence ate the space and it only took a few minutes to break.

The creaking of the doorstep caught Bakugo's attention, and he listened as three pairs of feet shuffled into the bar. They moved to make a beeline for a table on the other side of the room, and when they got close enough, Bakugo peered over his shoulder.

He took his glass in his hand and downed the rest of it, drumming his fingers along the counter with some finality before standing to go meet his friends.

...

“Hey. That person over there—at the bar—’s been sittin' super still for quite a while.”

“Do you think they’re okay?" More of a flat concerned statement than a lilted inquiry.

“Wait— Hey they’re kinda cute, don'tcha think?”

“Dare you to go talk to ‘em, Bakugo.”

The man grunted. "Tried that."

His friends went fish face—eyes popping wide and jaws dropping to the table. Bakugo had to keep from snorting; they looked like his goldfish back home.

Denki raised his glass to his lips, peering between the topsy turvy figure at the bar, and the surly one right across from him, staring in a blend of shock, confusion, and envy.

"Strike out, didja?"

"Hah? You think I'd take a shot at someone like that?" Bakugo barked, sensing a challenge to his dignity. Sero and Kirishima whooped, taking the word 'shot' as their cue to—well—take a shot. 

Bakugo was too busy grumbling about how ridiculous his friends were, to notice the shock of blonde hair next to him bristle. 

"Hey man, looks like they've got some company." Denki pointed with his glass, gesturing to the silhouette closing in behind you.

"And it looks like they want to be alone, though," Kirishima conjected. 

Bakugo exhaled through his nose, staring straight ahead at the dartboard hanging on the wall. "Then we'll leave them alone."

Hanta eyed you warily. "I don't think that's such a good idea, man."

Bakugo looked. He wasn't good with people, but it didn't take a genius to recognize the clear way you hid and curled into yourself defensively once the stranger had your attention. He felt his pulse quicken, and the cold that ran along his skin told him enough.

He groaned loudly, slamming his glass on the wooden tabletop, and shoved back in his chair. 

He stalked over with ease, trying to avoid making a scene by rushing in.

His eyes caught the way your hands pressed themselves into the figure's shoulder—like you were trying to put distance between you two.

"S-seriousl-ly, go aw—"

Only it worked too well, and suddenly you slid off the back end of your seat, tipping backward to meet the floor.

Bakugo had taken long enough strides to get to you in time, and you—not without any modicum of drunken grace—smacked into his chest. His arms locked around your midsection while you tried to find the ground with your feet.

You inevitably gave up and tipped your chin back to look at who had saved you.

Your eyes widened in hazy recognition, and you bubbled over in his hold.

"We're getting married."

"What?"

"This!" You loudly proclaimed, "is my financé."

Bakugo blinked at you wildly, looking and feeling like a deer in headlights. He hadn't exactly come up with a plan on the way over, but he was certain that hadn't crossed his mind.

"Sure. We broke up only three and a half months ago—you seriously expect me to believe some ding-dong would ask to marry you, all in that time?"

Nevertheless, he could play along.

"I'm sure as hell not marrying this dumbass," Bakugo stated.

The woozy hurt swam in your eyes, and you could feel the humiliating sneer burning into the back of your head.

"—but I'd be a fucking idiot to deny that we weren't together." His menacing glare held your ex square in the face, and Bakugo unconsciously shifted so you were pressed a little deeper into his chest.

They didn't know what to say, eyes flicking between the both of you as if what he'd said were the most scandalous thing in the world. The ex grew sheepish, obviously growing increasingly more threatened under the gaze of Bakugo Katsuki. 

Not any less egotistical, though.

"What? And we can't have a little chat, then? Just like two old friends?"

"I've seen enough of what's happening here to know that's not how it's gonna be."

He didn't even wait for a response, and instead dipped to slide his arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your back, as he held you to his chest once again. Bakugo strode toward the door, shoving it open with a pointed nod to the figure left balking at the bar.

...

You awoke to the soft shifting of your sheets, a handful clumped desperately in the tightness of your grip. Something vaguely sweet and not you lingered on the extra pillow next to you, the same side your fingers curled around.

You rolled up slightly in your place. The pounding headache that panged around your skull reminded you why you couldn't remember much of anything from last night.

Except... 

You gasped, pulling the sheets tightly to your—still very clothed—figure. That didn't make you feel any less bare, though. Especially after who you'd run into. 

A shuffle at your door ignited the already creeping fear of what could have possibly transpired last night. Without moving from your place in bed, you leaned out to look through your bedroom doorway.

The person in your living room was not the person you expected to see. 

The fear was suddenly placed with confusion, which only heightened when the man hurriedly shoving on his shoes froze as he spotted you too.

"Who are you?" 

The handsome stranger paused for a moment longer, as if he were trying to comprehend that you were actually speaking to him.

"I'm your boyfriend." 

How blunt.

You relaxed into a crooked smile, not at all adverse to such an idea.

"Oh, yeah? And how was it that we met?" 

"You tried to pick a fight with me." 

This actually surprised you, and you couldn't hold back the laugh bubbling up your throat.

"Can I ask for my boyfriend's name?"

The man sniffed, nonchalantly stopping in his rush out the door. "My name's Bakugo. Katsuki."

"Katsuki," you mused. "That's a lovely name. I assume you know mine, right?"

He shifted, reaching for the wallet he fished out of your back pocket to get to your spare key. Katsuki grabbed it and flipped it to you across the room. "Had to get you home somehow."

You chewed your lip to bite back a bashful smile. Your words were just barely above a whisper, but Katsuki heard them loud and clear. 

"Thank you for taking care of me."

He huffed the embarrassment away, not willing to show that he'd been staring longer than he'd meant to.

"Don't mention it."

There was a silence as Katsuki slowly began gathering his things again, aiming to smoothly escape out the door. You stopped him in his tracks though, the playful lilt in your voice bending him with your every syllable.

"You know—if you're my boyfriend and all—surely you could stick around a few more minutes?" you teased.

"Are you inviting me to bed," he grunted lowly, facing your unfaltering grin, despite the blush that exploded across your cheeks. 

"I meant to cuddle or something; no offense, but I'm not ready for that, yet."

Katsuki thought for a moment, staring with a slight pout while he weighed his options. 

With a very obvious 'fuck it' shrug, he kicked off his shoes and swept quickly into your room. He climbed atop your covers, grabbing you to his chest—for the fourth (and probably not the last) time in his life.

"I hope I make it a habit of picking fights with you, from here on."