Ground Zero and Red Riot had been mated in every way but title and a shared bed.
Tamaki flicked a photograph on the side table, smack in the center of the other Omega’s face. The shot was of his Alpha and his friend when they were younger and still in U.A., one smiling so bright the camera didn’t need a flash and the other frowning but amused. Eijirou’s arm was thrown around the other Omega’s shoulder, hugging him close with a fist in the air as they celebrated some win.
Small trinkets similar to the photo covered Eijirou’s apartment, showing off their friendship wherever Tamaki looked. While his Alpha went to work, Tamaki cleaned and explored his new home and it was hard to miss the other Omega’s presence. “Bakugou” and his pictures were everywhere, both framed and in albums, in addition to random bits and letters and notes with meet ups and “game nights.”
Their schedules for patrol were matched up often, Tamaki found as he browsed through old reports on Eijirou’s desk, and they spend their evenings together after patrol on a regular basis.
The other Omega’s cooking supplies were littered around the apartment, his name labeled neatly on each piece. There was a spare toothbrush in the cabinet and an overnight bag.
Tamaki recalled the footage he’d seen when the entire world watched Red Riot crash with Deku and it no longer seemed so surprising to see the chipper Hero out for blood.
The aftermath of that event still lingered, though it was clear his Alpha was doing better. Whether it had been Eijirou’s intention or not, replacing his friend with a new Omega helped clear his head immensely.
To a point.
The other Omega still held a rather significant role in Eijirou’s life and his Alpha’s enthusiasm for his friend’s upcoming litter made that rather clear.
Tamaki had inquired about his joy while buying their new couch, curious about Eijirou’s continued emotional investment after such a brutal defeat at the hand of the other Alpha.
“Bakugou’s my best friend,” Eijirou had said. “That hasn’t changed, Class or not.”
Tamaki lifted the photo off the side table and inspected it closer. Eijirou’s bright smile reminded him of another cheery Alpha he used to know and he wanted to see it in person.
If that meant playing nice with another Omega, so be it—at least when Eijirou was around.
He put the photo face down on the table and went back to the kitchen. Tamaki picked up an apron and grabbed a plastic container with Bakugou’s name on it. If he was going to bring cookies to his visit that afternoon, he might as well return a few borrowed items while he was at it.
Katsuki had no idea what to say to the other Omega.
It’d been one thing when the Alpha were there and Kirishima carried the conversation between the four of them, but then the League of Villains decided it was a good day for mayhem and every Pro Hero in the area received an emergency call at once.
Deku and Kirishima had answered, of course, and Katsuki had no desire to turn on the television to see how they were doing or admit how badly his fingers itched to go out there himself, the law be damned.
So he turned off the television and shut the blinds to shut away the temptation, almost forgetting about his quiet companion who’d brought homemade cookies.
Katsuki remembered pretty fast when he practically tripped over the other Omega, who’d been watching Katsuki like a hawk.
He sat across from him on the couch, leaning back with his hands around his stomach. Katsuki didn’t have the slightest clue what to say to a guy who had Katsuki beat when it came to life being shit to Omega.
Tamaki exhaled, reaching for the spiral notepad he’d brought. He flipped open the top past a few pages and wrote. When he finished, he turned the page toward Katsuki so he could read, “Did you like the cookies?”
“Yes,” Katsuki answered, rubbing his thumb in a circle. “They were good.”
The other Omega turned it away and wrote another sentence: “I used the recipe you left in Eijirou’s drawer. It was in his handwriting but it said ‘Bakugou’s cookies’ at the top.”
Katsuki remembered that. It’d been like a year ago but Kirishima had wanted to try making cookies on his own and begged Katsuki for his recipe. He didn’t have a written copy, so Kirishima watched him cook and scribbled down the steps as Katsuki went.
“There are a lot of your things at his place,” Tamaki wrote. His expression remained blank—neither accusing nor curious. “I don’t think even Eijirou realizes how much of his things are yours.”
“I had a lot of his things in my old apartment, too,” Katsuki said. Not as much since Katsuki kept a cleaner home and usually returned things more regularly, but he had his share. “That’s what happens when you spend time together.”
Tamaki tilted his head just enough to be thoughtful before he answered. “He really likes you.”
“If this is some jealousy thing, you can save it. I’m getting sick of explaining this, but he really is just a friend,” Katsuki said, kicking the coffee table between them. He sat up, throwing an arm over the back of the couch and slouching in the seat. “And he doesn’t like me, he likes you. That idiot gushed for like two hours about how wonderful you were before I told him to go claim you.”
“I’m not jealous,” Tamaki wrote, underlining “jealous” twice.
“Sure you’re not,” Katsuki said. It was stupid getting into a fight with Kirishima’s mate, but if it stopped him from thinking about Deku and Kirishima fighting Shigaraki, he’d roll with it. Katsuki kicked the table again. “Then why exactly are you trying to one-up me with my cookie recipe and passive aggressively getting my stuff out of Kirishima’s apartment? Or did you think I didn’t notice my name on the cookie container?”
“Bitter,” Tamaki wrote. He paused and snorted, continuing to write. “I can’t call it ‘jealous’ when I know full well I’d be happy for him if Deku dropped dead tonight from some Villain and Eijirou claimed you in his place. But I am bitter you’ve already left such a large mark.
“It’s hard to fill the gap you left behind when I’m nothing like you.” Tamaki paused, hesitating before he continued. “Or worse, he might have picked me specifically because I’m so different from you, implying that it hurts to think about you and he needs a distraction. I don’t want that, either.”
Katsuki put his arms back around his waist and rubbed his fingers in a circle on the side of his abs.
“Look, you’re thinking about all this way too hard. Kirishima picked you because liked you,” Katsuki said again. “He’s a hopeless romantic that fell for the Omega he saved in an alley that happened to be pretty. There’s nothing else to it and it certainly has shit to do with me.”
Tamaki rested the tip of his pen on the page. His mouth twitched and he wrote, “Then maybe it’s a good thing I needed saving. The past doesn’t seem so bad when I know what I have to look forward to with Eijirou.”
“Kirishima’s a good Alpha,” Katsuki said.
Tamaki’s lips twitched and he flipped the page over. “He’s good in bed, too.”
Katsuki blew up the notebook before Tamaki could go into any further details.
(That shut him up until Tamaki found Deku’s stash of blank notebooks.)
Deku breathed out, putting his hands on his knees. Sweat poured down his body and he felt the shakes in his limbs.
The League had been in full force tonight. They’d beaten them back, but only barely. There’d been an extra passion in them all tonight, from Dabi’s flames burning brighter and hotter than ever to the sheer rage on Shigaraki’s face.
They’d been so angry they hadn’t monologued or said why they were destroying a chunk of downtown.
To everyone’s relief, Sniper had gotten a good three shots in on Shigaraki and the group retreated to tend to the wound on his shoulder. He’d hissed and Izuku almost smiled, remembering the Villain taking a shot or two back when they were all much younger and had first met.
“Wow,” Kirishima said, stumbling down a pile of rubble. “That was intense. They were really out for blood tonight. I wonder why.”
“I don’t know,” Izuku said. He licked his lip and pulled off his mask to breathe in the cool night air. “But we should find out soon before they regroup.”
“Deku!” Uraraka shouted over a hill. “All the civilians are accounted for! We’re clear!”
“Thanks!” Izuku called back. He allowed himself to relax and walked back to sit on a garden planter cracked down the side. Izuku caught sight of the time on a nearby clock and huffed. “I hope Kacchan and Tamaki are okay by themselves. We ran out of there pretty fast.”
Kirishima shook gravel out of his costume. “I’m sure they’re fine.”
“You’re probably right.” Izuku pulled out a small handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his face. “I still want to get home, though.”
Kirishima agreed and they made their way back to their respective agencies for last minute paperwork and to change. They both agreed to meet up at a ramen place between the two agencies to get dinner to bring home.
A block from the agency, however, Izuku ran into his manager waiting outside the door. He had a frown on his face and stared at his phone.
“Is there a problem?” Izuku asked. He twisted the strap of his lower mask, not liking the feeling that settled in his stomach. “You look upset.”
“I hate to bring this up after a fight with the League, but something has been brought to our attention that needs to be addressed as soon as possible,” he said, still staring at his phone. Izuku held his breath as his manager turned the phone around and asked, “Is this true?”
The picture on the screen was a photo of Izuku in the furniture store when he looked at cribs, followed line after line of shared comments from fans putting everything together and coming to their own conclusions.
Izuku texted Kirishima to go ahead and pick up Tamaki without him and to let Kacchan know he’d be late.
Something far scarier than the League had gotten his attention.