Izuku was rarely first to class. Though he did always tend to end up second or third, depending on the weird march of a conga line Iida insisted they travel in every day to morning registration. And he wouldn't have minded that too much, except...except that after a few weeks a weird video of them ended up being emailed to Kaminari of all people, accompanied by the cheerful theme of Totoro playing in the background. And each one of their faces had been replaced by the screencapped expressions of the three main characters in said film.

Iida, being the tallest and the obvious leader, was carrying the face of Totoro, although the long, brown ears had been snapped off by whatever photo editing software the creator had used; probably, Izuku guessed, not to screw with the video's frame-rate too much. He also wasn't surprised to see that he and Uraraka had been blessed with the chubby faces of the two girls in the film, Satsuki and Mei - though he was a little gratified to see that he had been given the role of the older girl, while poor Uraraka, probably forever doomed to be the shortest out of the three of them, was stuck as the young Mei. She had laughed, and taken it with cheerful grace of course; until Kacchan had sneered out that it was an obvious choice to make, given that she had 'cheeks as round as the damn moon!'

'Like,' he had added, with the same barking ferocity he threw out most of his observations with, 'all fucking toddlers do: big surprise there.'

She had looked so downhearted after that, that Izuku had frowned at Kacchan, ready to bite out a defence of his friend. Except that the glower Kacchan had been directing Izuku's way, from under his furrowed brows, seemed to be egging him on, saying 'go on, Deku, I dare you.' Not to mention that sad little frown on Uraraka's lovely, in no-way-fat-face was busy tugging at his heartstrings.

It was enough to make Izuku remember the way he had seen his own mother stare wistfully in the mirror sometimes, prodding and squeezing the round lumps of her cheeks with a sigh, and he felt fiery determination strike him then. Because unlike Kacchan, he was actually sensitive to the women in his life, thank you very much.

So without wasting a beat, he savagely tore his gaze from Kacchan's own and took Uraraka's shoulders under his hands gently, despite the fierce blush that travelled up to his face. Because...well. He was touching a girl's shoulders! True, they had the barrier of her school uniform in place, preventing him from feeling whatever softness they yielded (though Uraraka worked out a lot, so maybe she had hard muscles wrapping their way over her bones and was no softer than Izuku there, and oh dear, he shouldn't really be thinking about this, oh no!) but still. They were shoulders. Belonging to an actual girl.

And. It. Was. Amazing.

'U-u-Uraraka-san!' he choked out, feeling his face warm at the way her pupils dilated in shock. 'G-g-guys really like girls who have round faces! Because they look cute! I m-m-mean the people always write poems about the moon, saying it's ah, beautiful, and people always end up staring at a full moon, so it's great really, the comparison...it just means people are drawn to you, and that you have the same effect as the moon!'

What was he saying? WHAT WAS HE SAYING!

But Iida looked like he'd been close to exploding, shouting noises that sounded a lot like agreement as he chopped his hands through the air with a bunch of firm movements. And a few other members of the class had been sniggering, but good-naturedly so, or so Izuku hoped, which meant he must have been doing something right.

'YES, URARAKA-SAN, MIDORIYA IS RIGHT, YOU SHOULD BE PROUD TO HOST CHEEKS AS BULBOUS AND BRIGHT AS THE MOON ITSELF!'

'Way to miss the point entirely, Iida,' Jirou muttered, stuffing her face full of cake.

Izuku laughed. But couldn't help but let Kacchan fall into his line of sight again. And Kacchan looked...gobsmacked. For just a single moment of time. Then his face closed off and with an abrupt turn, he stomped back to his room.

Izuku watched him go, feeling a little gobsmacked himself. Because since when did Kacchan run away from a remark Izuku made, at least without stopping to sneer at it first?

On Monday, despite the embarrassment of that video still circulating round their class, Izuku and Uraraka joined in their usual brisk march to the classroom, Iida towering ahead of them all.

'Come on, Satsuki,' Uraraka laughed, playfully pushing his shoulder; and at her touch, even without her quirk activated, Izuku felt his feet practically float off the ground at the sensation of her round fingertips. It made him glide forward a little faster, smooth out his footsteps overall. Fast enough in fact, to make a sizable bruise in his face appear, as he rammed straight into the back of Iida who had paused in the doorway.

'My apologies Midoriya!' boomed Iida, his arm jutting out, and moving up and down rapidly to indicate the full force of his emotions. 'I was simply struck by surprise at your good fortune! Even if it is against the regulations to bring botany inside the classroom, if it is not to be used for study! But still! The gesture connotes a lot of good will towards you and is to be respected! Though what of the students who may have allergies or experience hay-fever?! Perhaps, good intentions aside, it is quite thoughtless to-'

What, Izuku thought, peering round Iida's shoulder and tuning out his voice just a little. Not too much though, only enough to feel a tiny bit guilty. What, he found himself thinking again, as his sight ended up confronted by a large bouquet of yellow flowers, carefully propped up inside a pale red vase.

Long, narrow and angular, the vase forced the flower to burst out of its small opening and form a towering doom of colour, as though to imitate the wide spread of branches within a tree. Leaves trailed out and around the circular faces of sunflowers, brushed out under the taunt faces of roses, and finished by stroking up against the peeling petals of tulips, all of which were a delightful, bright yellow. The mixture of the three species should have been a tawny, gaudy affair. But whoever had displayed them out here had also pushed them into the vase and carefully tilted and tweaked their positions until the arrangement looked...well. Damn near professional. Not to mention pretty.

Izuku stumbled over to his desk. 'Maybe they got my desk confused with someone else's?' he choked out.

'Aw, come on Deku!' Uraraka bounced round him, a strange, pinched look on her face. The next second Izuku almost thought he had imagined it as she launched herself forward and started enthusiastically slapping him on the back. 'Who wouldn't want to give a nice gift to someone like you?'

'Yeah, you are kind of a sweetheart.'

Izuku started to sweat horribly, as Midnight peered over his shoulder, one long finger lifting up a leaf for inspection with one elegant flip. Her smile, sly and a little charmed, brightened as she saw a tiny sunflower nearly concealed beneath. 'At least,' she continued, 'a sweetheart compared to some of the other sprouts in this class.'

And though she made no effect to single anybody else out, the quick glance she threw at Mineta, who was now currently dry heaving and clutching his school bag as though he was confusing it for a bucket to throw up in, gave it all away.

Izuku bit his lip as he heard the smaller boy let out a loud wail of 'UNFAIR! WHY WOULD THE FIRST PERSON IN THE CLASS TO GET FLOWERS BE MIDORIYA!' and let his gaze lock back onto the flowers. They were lovely, and despite the gesture being traditionally aimed towards women, he was still a little charmed despite himself. ...Which of course meant that someone had surely got confused and made a mistake (perhaps because of being hit by a memory-altering quirk?) and ended up placing the flowers on the wrong desk.

It was hard to be too distracted though; the stilted fall of footsteps, and the absence of the noise of chairs being slid out and away from desks, meant that Izuku and the flowers were starting to be surrounded by more people, as the rest of the class traipsed in.

'Way to go, Dude!' Kaminari said, sounding almost as enthusiastic as Uraraka had been, and nudging Izuku in the idea with his elbow as though to reinforce this. 'I wonder who the admirer is? She's got to have guts, to pull a stunt like this!'

'Not to mention a good eye,' muttered Jirou, eying the flowers critically, though the faint flush on her face and the interested light in her eyes spoke of how she had been as similarly charmed by the gesture as Izuku had. 'Unlike you, Kaminari.'

He turned to her, stung, opened his mouth and then closed it again.

'That's what I thought.'

'Oh come ooooon,' growled Mina, wrapping her arm in an incredibly chummy fashion around Jirou's neck and hugging the other's girl shoulders, all with a force Jirou stoically suffered. 'He got you that guitar pick, right? The one with the cute forget-me-nots printed on it?'

Jirou's flush grew brighter. 'Only because he broke my other one!'

'I said I was sorry!' Kaminari wailed. 'And I thought those tiny blue flowers were cute! Tucked away into the background the way you always are! Besides don't girls like flowers?'

Izuku nodded his head firmly, with one decisive snap. 'Yes! Exactly! They do! Which is why they must have got the wrong desk! Not to say a guy wouldn't like it if a girl got him flowers of course, but traditionally, um, I mean it would make more sense for this to be a simple mistake!' he finished off, in part to interrupt the complicated look on Jirou's face, as though she wasn't sure whether to insult Kaminari, or laugh at him. But also to halt the warning look Momo was giving him. Because it was weird; she had never looked at him like that before.

'I dunno,' said Kirishima, sounding thoughtful as he curled his fingers beneath his chin, bringing it up to rub absently against his lip. 'I mean, I think it's pretty manly to give the person you like flowers; the spirit of it, I mean.'

'Those sunflower petals are the same shade as Midoriya's backpack,' Todoroki suddenly pointed out with a low murmur, as though nobody else had spoken. It certainly made everyone else give him a second glance; but he was looking only at Izuku and quite seriously too. 'And the rest are a little brighter, almost like All Might's hair. There must be sending you a message of how well they know you.'

Izuku blinked and then gaped at Todoroki.

'No, no, I think you're putting a little too much thought into this...'

Though he couldn't help but sneak another look at the flower, because, yes, now that Todoroki had mentioned it, Izuku could see that the colour of the sunflower petals did mesh quite well with the canvas lining of his backpack. And yes, the tulips and roses did seem to share the same light gold shade as All Might's hair. Weird; he didn't know you could get roses that bright. He had only ever seen dimmer versions of the colour wedged inside their petals, a hue that descended down into cream, or close enough to it.

Then there was a loud, familiar snort, approximately two shoulder-blades away from him and Izuku froze.

'Read. The. Damn. Card. Idiot,' Kacchan grit out from between his teeth before, with a quick lunge, he reached out and snatched the small placard propped up against the vase. Izuku blinked as Kacchan then practically shoved it up against his face, one of the corners harshly jabbing into his cheek. Because, oh! How had he not noticed that?

He gingerly peeled it away from Kacchan's hand, relieved when the other boy huffed, but did nothing more, and let his sight dip, to take in the words written there.

'Sneeze and die, fuckhead,' it read, in the most beautiful crafted set of letters Izuku had ever seen. He almost thought it had been typed up and arranged in the most stylised computer font someone could find; but no. Peering closer, he could see the shine of ink that could only flow out of the end of a pen, as he tilted it up towards the light, lacking the usual dense and solid look of a printed set of words.

And also...

Izuku blinked, realised that the rest of the class was busy gawping at Kacchan and then felt himself colour as he realised the implication of such a card. He opened his mouth, highly aware of how intently Kacchan was watching him (and also, how he looked like he was a single word from bolting out and coating air with his trademark explosions) when Kaminari giggled.

'Damn, Kacchan, do you have a twin sister?'

Kacchan starting shaking, a complicated grimace twisting his face.

'Aaaaaand, you're dead,' Jirou said, gracefully sliding out of Mina's grip and taking a quick step away from Kaminari. 'Nice knowing you.'

Izuku's thought were whirling, his hand already outstretching; for some reason he had an insane, suicidal impulse to save Kaminari from his own grave.

'Aaaaah,' sighed Mineta, wiping the sweat of relief away from his brow, with one strident swipe of his hand. 'It was a joke! Good one, Bakugou!' and then, for some bizarre reason, he had the audacity to slap the back of Kacchan's leg as a sign of manly appreciation. Izuku goggled at him. 'For a moment there, I really had thought that Midoriya had gotten flowers from someone.'

Some tension eased from the class. Though a few people were still throwing uncertain looks at each other, and Yaoyorozu was murmuring a gentle, 'no, that doesn't seem his style,' while Uraraka was busy glaring at Kacchan, as though she wanted to sock him in the face. Izuku found himself really hoping she didn't. She was good at fighting, but not as good as Kacchan; more than that though, he hated seeing her hurt.

'What a horrible trick to play,' she growled, voice like thunder.

And Kacchan stared back at her, outraged. But there was something mean in his eyes now, Izuku could see it, and felt his stomach clench in dread.

'IT'S NOT A JOKE, YOU SHITHEADS!'

Kirishima, Izuku suddenly realised with a start, was watching the scene with an uncharacteristically grave look on his face.

'WHO WOULD JOKE ABOUT LIKING SOMEONE WHO'S STILL TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND A CONFESSION WHEN HE GETS ONE!'

'Oooohhhh,' said Midnight, slamming her elbows on Izuku's desk, bent nearly half at the waist and cupping her cheeks in her hands. She was watching Kacchan avidly, a look of dawning delight on her face.

'OI DEKU.' Izuku straightened to attention as Kacchan flung a finger out at him, nearly stabbing him in the neck. 'THROW THE FLOWERS AWAY, EAT THEM, SHIT ON THEM, I DON'T CARE! BUT THEY...I...

And then something really weird happened. Kacchan seemed to run out of steam, huddling in a little on himself, shoulders tensing as his hand dropped. His glare was still there, his eyes were still locked on Izuku but he looked...not uncertain, exactly. Just...like he was bracing himself for a slam to the stomach or something.

'Damn it,' he finished off, his voice approaching a more normal volume. 'Go out with me. For one fucking date.' He said the word as though it had personally offended him, his expression twisting with distain. 'Then you can tell me to get lost or whatever.'

Silence. Again. Izuku's mind was a blank roar. Except he was trembling, he could feel it, every inch of him was now alive and rocked with adrenalin.

'Deku,' said Uraraka, worry infusing her face, as she reached for him.

Izuku couldn't look at her, only at Kacchan. It wasn't disgust that churned in his gut, but it was certainly something just as strong.

'No,' he said quietly, something small and angry and hard in his voice, something he usually didn't let it to the surface with Kacchan. Usually his anger, his temper, when he was pushed far enough, was explosive when it concerned the two of them, fit for scrapping or shouting. But not this time. 'Sorry, Kacchan, but no.'

There was another silence.

Then:

'Get out of my classroom,' Aizawa, said, plonking his register on Midnight's head as though she was the chopping board, and it were the tomato he wanted to slice. 'Everybody else: sit down. You're here to become heroes, not daytime drama actors.'

If Aizawa had expected anyone to actually work that morning, he was in for a disappointment. There was a buzz running through the class for the next half-hour, despite the scratching of pens, and the half-hearted looks people kept giving both the board and their teacher as he droned on.

Izuku for his part was trying, really. But it was hard, when Kacchan, all of him, his back and the stiff glow of his light hair, was taking up the entirety of his vision. Every time he looked up, there he was, shoulders hunched, blazing into proximity more than he ever had before with just his presence alone. Izuku felt his breath catch at the feel of it and he cursed himself, his pen creaking slightly under his grip. For he had yet to write a single word.

A problem, he noted grudgingly, that Kacchan didn't seem to have. Even though the other boy's back blocked out most of the view Izuku had of Kacchan's desk, all those little niggles of movement in the owner's shoulder meant that he was actually still managing to function the way a normal student should, his pen becoming a casual blur across the paper in a way Izuku's refused. And Izuku felt himself tense at that. Because he was pretty sure that if he had been the one REJECTED after giving a CONFESSION-

Izuku's brain ran to a prompt halt. Because had he...actually rejected Kacchan?

Izuku gulped, fought off the desire to pinch himself. He had said 'no' with such clarity to Kacchan fifteen minutes ago, had said it so firmly without a single stutter, that he hadn't really stopped to analyse as many of the details about the situation as he should have. Because he well knew that while Kacchan's idea of a joke may have been mean, it never involved anything close to lying. Besides, Izuku knew most, if not all, of Kacchan's facial expressions. And what Kacchan had said to him, the meaning behind the flowers, and the note...that was serious. His gaze, even the tremor in his voice, no matter the rise and fall in volume, had said as much.

It made Izuku want to throw up. Because now, after the initial shock had worn off, the horror was setting in. Because that date Kacchan had wanted...still wanted...meant that he what? Wanted to do the same things with him, that in some guilty part of his own mind, Izuku sometimes dreamed of doing with Uraraka? Even the mundane things that made his stomach start doing flips and his hands shake, like hearing Uraraka's cheerful voice on the end of phone, or seeing the way her uniform fell and flowed over the very nice shape of her body...did that mean Kacchan felt something similar when he looked at Izuku or heard him speak?

An image of Kacchan, his eyes slanted and empty like a demon, the way he was during the very worse fits of his temper, jumped into Izuku's mind suddenly, his palms crackling as he screamed DIE! DIE! ...And then it started mouthing off about how he hated Deku and how Deku should stop looking down on him, and Izuku cringed. True, Kacchan hadn't exhibited any of that behaviour in...

Izuku paused. And felt like he needed to sit down heavily, despite the fact he was already rooted in his seat behind his desk. Okay, yes, sure, he had been aware that their relationship was in a much better place than it had been for years. Kacchan looked at him as though he was more than an ant now, even saw him as a rival of sorts, striving for the same place Kacchan was determined to beat down and make all his own. He hadn't actually screamed the word 'hate' in relation to Izuku for what felt like months. Possibly even was. He was still loud and brash and contemptuous towards Izuku. But...

Izuku could read Kacchan like a book, that much was true. He had just never really counted on the fact that Kacchan would start adding new chapters to himself, specifically chapters on desiring actual romantic interaction with someone. The idea of that someone being 'him' was laughable.

And yet here he was, frozen, unable to write a word of what Aizawa was saying.

Izuku breathed out through his nose. Pressed his pen down harder against the page. And started to sketch out every second sentence Aizawa was saying. His head hurt, but he was here to work, to be better, more deserving of the chance All Might had given him, not worry about this sudden new mutation in Kacchan's personal-

There was a snap that sounded more like a click, and suddenly the biro in his hand was nothing more than threads of plastic, butchered by the curls of his fingers. Izuku could barely move as a sharp rainfall of black ink promptly drowned out the few, half-hearted words he had began to write. And also doused the back of Kacchan's shirt.

Izuku's mouth opened and stayed that way.

The shoulders in front of him shook slightly. Then slowly, as though every trope in a horror movie had suddenly come to life, Kacchan turned, his eyes hot and fierce. And also distinctly red-rimmed.

Izuku's mouth slammed shut. He wasn't sure what to do with this new piece of evidence.

Aizawa didn't sigh or roll his eyes towards the ceiling, the way another teacher might. Instead he stared at them both, completely dead-eyed. What else was I expecting? Izuku seemed to read in his eyes.

'Out,' he said, as though announcing the weather with a dead-pan drawl. 'Get a new shirt Bakugo. Midoriya, go cool your head and get your temper under control.'

That startled Izuku, especially since he realised, half a second later, that Aizawa was right: he was angry.

'And take those things away,' Aizawa continued, lifting a hand to point at the vase of flowers Midoriya had carefully shifted to the floor, beside his desk. 'Otherwise I'll probably have to tell you to get a dustpan and brush later on.'

Izuku tried to choke his temper at that, shove it down deep, as he pulled the vase into his arms gingerly, taking care not to crush any of the flower bursting out of the top. It was a difficult task; the flowers spilled out, bumping up under his chin with their height and he felt ridiculous, staggering out of the classroom as though he was some boyfriend weighed down with his girlfriend's books. He instantly felt more angry, but this time with himself, for coming up with that analogy.

'Why don't you toss them out in the trash if you hate them that much?!' Kacchan hissed from beside him in the corridor and Izuku flicked him a side-glance, cautiously aware of the fact that Kacchan was taking the time to keep pace with him, despite his usually longer, more aggressive strides.

'I don't – urgh.' He made a face as he attempted to speak round a mouthful of petals. 'I don't hate them Kacchan! I'm not going to throw out something you obviously spent a lot of time on.'

Kacchan scoffed. 'Coulda fooled me with that face you were making. You looked like someone had barfed on your shoes.'

Izuku sighed. Already his anger was simmering, perhaps because Kacchan wasn't yelling at him or accusing him of being stuck-up or looking down on him, the way he might have done months back.

'I'm just surprised-'

'And angry,' Kacchan cut in. His scowl had faded into his more neutral look, the one he wore when he wasn't particularly angry. Izuku didn't trust it in the least. He did however trust the tone of Kacchan's voice. It was calm, which meant that he would probably be receptive to anything Izuku might choose to say.

'Yeah,' Izuku admitted. 'I'm pissed at you.'

He tried to keep his eyes in front of him, but couldn't quite surpress the surge of ...not smugness, not exactly, but accomplishment perhaps, as Kacchan shot him a quick, furrowed look at Izuku's word choice. Well, good. Izuku was feeling mad enough to use a slightly stronger word that he would otherwise normally.

Can you blame me? he wanted to ask. But he held it back, kept it carefully concealed by fixing his eyes on the wavering form of a sunflower below. Despite everything, he still felt the guilty jump of his heart as the door in front of him flew open, Kacchan suddenly shouldering it open with a brash bumping yank of his arm. And then he leaned back, head tilted, as he waited for Izuku to pass through in front of him.

Izuku paused tentatively. It was as though Kacchan was holding the door open for him. And then heat brushed up his neck and flared over his face, as Kacchan's neutral look collapsed into a slightly more heavy glare, because Izuku suddenly realised that holy shit, Kacchan was actually holding the door open for him!

He was instantly torn in two directions then. Either he could race through the gap and ignore Kacchan's behaviour, or else he could continue to walk through it at a normal pace, as though nothing else abnormal was happening. Instead, like an idiot, Izuku froze, and then a timid, quivering voice that was his own, piped up and asked, 'W-why did you do it in f-front of the rest of the c-c-class?'

He didn't even need to qualify what 'it' was. But then Kacchan didn't tear away from the door, and let it slam shut in front of Izuku's face as an affronted answer, the way Izuku half-expected him too. Instead his heavy scowl faded, lessoned, actual thought passing through his eyes in it's absence.

'I've never had a problem calling you out before, Deku,' he said, a casual growl in his voice. 'You didn't always deserve it' – and here his brow twitched violently as though he was having to fight to get the words out – 'though it sure as hell felt like you did, at the time.'

And that, thought Izuku dully, was probably as close to an apology as he would ever get from Kacchan.

'I'm...shit, sorry, I guess.'

Wait, WHAT?! Izuku stared at Kacchan, seeing the way Kacchan's eyes briefly flickered away, for what felt like the first time ever, before rapidly returning to his face. 'I was a shithead, so were you. I was just a bigger shithead most of the time.'

Most? MOST? Izuku would very much want to know when, exactly, he was the one being a shithead in middle school?!

Kacchan snorted, wry amusement in his tone as he said, 'you're even more mad now, huh?'

Izuku clamped his mouth shut. For all that Kacchan had once yelled at him about how he could never figure out what was going in 'that head of yours' back when they fought after the provisional license exams, he sure didn't have a hard time decoding Izuku's day-to-day facial expressions.

'It shouldn't be any different now that I like you, though.'

Izuku let a squeak escape him. And hated himself immediately, as Kacchan smirked at him.

'If I could say shit about you, to you, in front of the class before, then I should be able to say all this new shit in the same way now.'

Izuku stared at Kacchan. He was a bully and a sadist, but he was also brave in a way none of his other middle-school tormentors had been. Here, his expression and clumsy words were saying. I embarrassed and fucked you up in front of everybody for years; now it's only fair that I'm the one who gets fucked up and embarrassed and put on display.

Izuku felt tongue-tied. Then he shook himself, spared a glance at the red rims of Kacchan's eyes again; (because he had made Kacchan cry before or get teary-eyed at least, but never so directly) and summoning up all his courage, strode past the boy who had given him these flowers and the least romantic proposal Izuku had ever had the horror of hearing.

'But you always set out to win,' he found himself saying in a near mumble as he brushed past Kacchan, never so as acutely aware of his presence until today. 'Always. What you did today was practically setting yourself up for failure. You knew I probably wouldn't say 'yes.'

Kacchan sent him another smirk, this one long and slow, showing his teeth, the way it always did when Kacchan let his fervour for battle stir him.

'Oi, Deku,' he sneered out, Izuku's nickname coming out with bite of snarl. 'Don't get ahead of yourself and go about thinking I've lost yet.'

The walk back to the dorms after that, was a very silent, silted affair.

And for once, Izuku's mind was deathly quiet to match.

Notes: Next Chapter: Enter Aoyama. Though I doubt he needs to be given any stage directions for the resulting drama.