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08 — i'd rather be a riot than indifferent
[When Shindou finally arrives, he's ten minutes late and wearing the kind of easy grin on his face that says he's doesn't care in the slightest that he's made Bakugou wait.
His approach garners a few curious glances from some students on their way out, but he takes it all in stride. Or, rather, he doesn't seem to notice at all, his sights set on something past the other boy's impatient figure, past the iron gates. The truth is, Shindou's only seen U.A. in photos or a news coverage. Like everyone else, he's keenly aware of the prestige attached to the school's name, it's just... seeing it up close shoves every impressive thing he's heard about it right into his face. It's strange.
Even once his feet have stopped beside Bakugou, Shindou's not really paying attention to him, eyes still fixed on the stately school building. Ketsubutsu looks like an molehill in comparison. Maybe less than a anthill!
Letting loose one low-pitched whistle, he shakes his head, then turns to actually regard his soon-to-be opponent, as if he's only just now noticed him.]
Oh, hey.
[And then, for lack of anything better to say—]
I brought your jacket.
His approach garners a few curious glances from some students on their way out, but he takes it all in stride. Or, rather, he doesn't seem to notice at all, his sights set on something past the other boy's impatient figure, past the iron gates. The truth is, Shindou's only seen U.A. in photos or a news coverage. Like everyone else, he's keenly aware of the prestige attached to the school's name, it's just... seeing it up close shoves every impressive thing he's heard about it right into his face. It's strange.
Even once his feet have stopped beside Bakugou, Shindou's not really paying attention to him, eyes still fixed on the stately school building. Ketsubutsu looks like an molehill in comparison. Maybe less than a anthill!
Letting loose one low-pitched whistle, he shakes his head, then turns to actually regard his soon-to-be opponent, as if he's only just now noticed him.]
Oh, hey.
[And then, for lack of anything better to say—]
I brought your jacket.
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Based on the smile when he sees him, he's betting on the latter. Bastard is lucky he waited at all. But, if he's being honest, he's excited for the chance. Shindou had been a condescending asshole on first meeting, even if his smile seemed to fool everyone else, the words coming out of his mouth had been a fucking insult. And he knew that look in his eyes well enough. If he hadn't shown up to have a powerhouse of a quirk, Bakugou would have written him off completely right there.
But the fact was, it had been an impressive display, reminded him of that brief moment of jealousy he had felt when he first saw Todoroki's ice display. So yeah, maybe he was worth waiting ten minutes for. Fifteen would have been fucking pushing it though.
He won't be the first one to greet the other, manners aren't exactly his thing anyway, so he continues to impatiently wait as the dick eyes up the outside of U.A.]
Don't bust a damn nut. [He scoffs, straightening against the gate even as he casts a quick glance back at the school. Yeah, it's impressive as hell. It's the only school he's ever had his sights set on.]
And good, I would have sent your ass right back home if you hadn't. [And he holds a hand out impatiently. Weird clothes stealing thief...]
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But, after a beat, he snorts. Unzips his backpack to withdraw the jacket. Annoyingly astute, the guy probably wouldn't have bought it, anyways. That, or he would have made Shindou pay him back in some inordinately painful way. Whaaatever.
With little ceremony, he drops the jacket into Bakugou's open palm. For his credit, it's relatively neatly folded, not a single wrinkle in sight, and clean-smelling, as if it were freshly laundered. It'd smelled like crap when he brought it home the night of the party, so he'd figured may as well.]
You're welcome, by the way.
[Is what Shindou tosses over his shoulder, already moving past him and through the school gates. Which is kind of silly because he has no idea where he's going.]
Can't believe that thing really means that much to you. Or are you always so crazy possessive over your stuff?
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He glances back up, retort on the tip of his tongue when he realizes Shindou's trying to step onto campus...without the god damn pass yet.]
Hey, wait dam-
[But he's already triggered the damn safety feature and the heavy gate comes slamming down, and it's just stupid instinct that has him snatching Shindou's wrist and yanking him back before he goes running into it, or getting a foot smashed.]
IDIOT! [There was a damn reason he was waiting outside the gate for the bastard and it wasn't just because he was eager to see him. And like he's worried Shindou might run off and do something stupid again, he doesn't let go of him until he's pulled the pass out of his school jacket's pocket and shoves it at his chest.]
That's what you get for trying to take the lead! [That's his role.] Try not to damage yourself before I even get a chance at you.
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Then, as if in an effort to ward off the unwanted turn of his thoughts, the ends of his mouth upturn into a too-bright smile. His eyes crinkle.]
Guess we're even now, huh?
[No words of gratitude or anything. Just the implication that Shindou completely believes that him doing Bakugou's laundry is equivalent to being saved from a nasty injury. Yep.
There's a slow hiss coming from the direction of the gate, recapturing his attention. The steel bars are receding back into place, making the threshold safe to cross again. That's their cue, right? Shindou takes a step forward, and for a second it looks like he might try venture off on his own again, but one sidelong glance Bakugou's way keeps him in place. Reluctantly.]
Hey, it won't happen again! Promise! Stop looking at me as if I need a leash and harness.
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He tucks his jacket under his arm before he shoves his hands into pants that a size too damn big for him and purses his lips in a face of unfuckingamused. It's not like he would acknowledge any gratitude anyway, but the fuck if they're even. He didn't owe the asshole anything.
The door opens and he watches that eager step before he stops and Bakugou is at least satisfied that he seemed to learn a damn lesson at least. With a scoff he walks past him, pointedly taking the lead onto campus ground.]
Don't fucking tempt me.
[Because isn't that a sudden image that pops into his brain, entirely unwelcome. Damn it.]
Keep up! This isn't a damn tour. We'll go to the locker rooms and change and then we can go out to the training grounds.
[Hell, he'll even take Shindou to the rocky turf. So when he beats him down there's not a single fucking excuse he can use to argue who is better.
Though it's not exactly the closest building, which means there are plenty of things to distract his guest. A distraction would probably be a smart idea, but what the fuck does he know about small talk?]
...Nothing else happened the other night, right?
[It fucking sucks to have blanks in his night of apparent revelry, but Shindou apparently remembered enough to text him about the vomiting episode.]
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[It's not possible for Shindou to sound any less distracted; he's too preoccupied playing tourist, his gaze shifting from one shiny thing to the next. If he were paying attention, he'd probably delight in the novelty of Bakugou actually initiating casual conversation.
The event in question is organized annually by the third years of various schools within the prefecture, an initiative meant to foster healthy and long-lasting relationships between the students.
...that's the sales pitch, anyways. Attendees usually use the occasion to build their alcohol tolerance and party hard all night long without the looming threat of any hovering teachers. And ordinarily he would count himself among that crowd. That night, though, all he'd managed to throw back were one or two shots before he'd gotten roped into acting as Bakugou's babysitter, hence his mostly intact memory.
Pausing briefly to replay the sequential order of everything that'd gone wrong at the party in his head, he keeps his face deliberately even.]
As far as drunks go, you're not that interesting, trust me.
After hurling, it was pretty obvious you wanted to be left alone—[Not that Shindou had really given him the satisfaction.]—but before that you were just trying to drink everyone under the table. Steal my shots. Yell at everyone. You might have made a pass at me, who knows.
[Okay, the validity of that last one is debatable. It's a stupid joke, just something he'd added to the mix as a way to incite a reaction out Bakugou.]
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He can't help but scoff though when he calls it a 'social'. It was nothing but a god damn excuse to get drunk and compete with other schools. He knew he shouldn't have gone to that shit, but Kirishima is getting too damn good at dragging him to things, or maybe he's just getting too compliant. But it definitely hadn't taken long for the right asshole to say the right thing to turn the whole thing into a drinking competition.
Which was stupid, considering he wasn't a huge drinker to start with. So, to hear that he was a boring drunk, well, that's somewhat of a relief. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear he had blown a few things up. But if the worst he had done was throw up on some assholes who were dumb enough to hit on him, then it was a mild enough night. Yelling wasn't even outside the norm. And flirting with-
He pauses in his step to look back at Shindou and glare.]
What the hell did you say?! LIKE I WOULD!
[Fucking asshole, now he had a whole new set of possible reasons why Shindou had his god damn jacket. And he didn't approve of any of them. Not without remembering them, anyway.]
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Shindou crosses his arms behind his neck and brushes past him. Seemingly at ease.]
Would too. I'm surprised you don't remember at least that much. You got pretty handsy. [His tongue playfully peeks out from between his lips, exacerbating the already childish response. Then, as an afterthought, once he's pressed forward a foot or two ahead:]
Oi, keep up.
[Because look at who's lagging behind now.]
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Fuck. The story just keeps getting worse. Handsy? Well. He was just thinking of choking him, so there might be some sort of truth to that. But then there's that tongue and his eyes narrow. Son of a bitch is teasing him.]
Shut up!
[With a huff he takes a few quick steps to catch up to him, and he shoots him a pointed look.]
If I was fucking hitting on you, I wouldn't have gone to bed alone.
[Cocky? Absolutely.]
And turn left at the next corner. Locker room is in that building up ahead.
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Aside from the awkward step he takes, halting in midair for a second before forcefully coming down, as if he hadn't been sure if he wanted to pivot and round in on Bakugou or keep moving forward, Shindou doesn't outwardly react. Doesn't even bother vocalizing the question pressing down on his tongue, now secured back in his mouth. The only thing he does is make the left he'd been directed to make, a single thought on his mind:
Ahhh, what an annoying guy.]
...hah, got it. [The building's much like the others scattered across the campus, so the awe's starting to wear off, but he's sure it'll be back tenfold once he's entered through the sliding doors. He has to remind himself that Ketsubutsu technically has sliding doors, too. Just not the automatic kind.
Shindou doesn't look back when he next speaks up, eyes fixed at some point ahead of them.]
So no other questions? Not even about who was really trying to land themselves in your bed?
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He snorts softly, even though he's annoyed that he didn't get much more of a reaction to such lofty words. He meant it, either way though, if he actually went through the effort of flirting with anyone, there'd be the same tenacity behind it as there is with anything he does. But generally, he doesn't bother, regardless of interest, because it'd just be a distraction. And given how quickly Deku continues to grow, if he rests, he'll lose footing. And he won't become the fucking number two hero just because he got distracted by an attractive ass. So, it's a rare occurrence, or rather a rare mood when he does bother to hook up with anyone.]
I got plenty of questions, but I don't give a shit about the assholes I turned down. [If they weren't worth tolerating drunk, he doubts he would have given them a second of his time sober.]
Why the hell did you bother me all night? [It certainly wasn't as if Shindou had any obligation to watch out for him, but he's clearly not fucking calling it that. He didn't need a babysitter. (Although that's totally the role Kirishima usually took up when he dragged Bakugou to any social event.)
He steps through the front doors of the building without much thought at all. The awe of it all had worn off almost immediately. Not that he was the type to wear it on his sleeve anyway. But this path is familiar to him. A handful of steps until they turn to the left again, to the push door of the men's locker room.
There's nobody else in it when he steps inside, a quick glance at the rather open space of it all proves that, and he makes his way over to the benches settled in front of the lockers and drops his jacket there before he's gesturing at one of the unclaimed lockers.]
You can throw your shit there.
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But since he isn't, Shindou just plasters on a grin, wanders over to a locker that's already slightly ajar, and stalls his ass off.]
Not all night. I listened the second time you told me to fuck off!
[More like the fifth... not that his companion that evening remembers. He would have fucked off sooner if the cab hadn't taken so long to get there. Probably.
Letting his backpack hang from the hook against the back wall of the locker, Shindou yanks the zipper open none too gently, unveiling the sheer amount of crap he has inside. How he'd managed to stuff Bakugou's jacket in there is beyond anyone's imagination. Reaching past all the textbooks, supplies, and borrowed games, he wrenches out his tracksuit from the bottom of his belongings.
Well. He tries to, anyways. The thing's catching on something.]
But if you—[TUG]—really want me—[TUG, TUG]—to tell you—
[With one final tug, his tracksuit breaks loose from whatever had kept lodged in there, whipping into his face. He casts a glance Bakugou's away, still grinning, in spite of how ridiculous his earlier display had been.]
Try kicking my ass first.
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His brows knit in both amusement and annoyance as he watches, distracted from doing anything more than opening his own very organized locker.
He snorts when Shindou finally gets his clothes free, though whether that's a win for him or the bag when it smacks him in the face, he's not sure.]
I don't need any more motivation to kill you. But fine, I'll beat a confession out of you.
[Because that's what it would be, isn't it? He's not that fucking clueless. Shindou had no obligation to watch him, and if he was just a fucking goody-two-shoes type of hero, he could admit that up front. Anything else means he either likes him, or he was watching him as a favor for somebody he does like. Or Bakugou did something totally stupid and he was waiting to pull out the blackmail material later.
It didn't change anything. So with a shake of his head, he turns back to his own locker and slips off his jacket, hanging it on one of the side hooks inside before he's rapidly undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and shrugging it off, an easier task with the absence of the tie that the rest of the male students wear.
It goes on a hook too before he's slipping out of shoes and then pants that fall to his feet the moment he undoes his belt, leaving him in obnoxious orange boxer briefs. At least until they're quickly covered up by the blue and white UA tracksuit.
He pulls his combat boots out of his locker and sits down on the bench to slip them on, eyes drifting back over to Shindou as he finishes up.]