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After the Talk

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Dr. Katsuki Bakugo walks up to the podium, laser pointer in one hand, coffee in the other. Nerves? Non-existent. He’s talked at several international conferences already. Three this year alone.

At the impressive age of 32, Dr. Bakugo has more experience giving scientific talks and keynote speeches than colleagues double his age. That’s what happens when your graduate thesis makes it to the front page of Nature and you get three RO1s within five years. People notice. People fill your inbox with invitations to conferences all around the world. People know your name.

And now that Katsuki’s the Principal Investigator of his own lab, he has the pleasure of making rounds, shaking hands, and smiling at the masses that would scoop him if given the chance. But knowing that all these people are eager to beat him at his own game, to publish the Bakugo’s lab science before they do, is what makes science fun. 

The thrill is in the race.

There’s no thrill presenting old data like today. All this stuff is published already. Where’s the fun in that? Katsuki only takes solace in knowing he demanded that all his graduate students and postdoctoral employees stay in the lab. While all these other labs wasted time walking around half-baked posters and collecting free but meaningless goodies, the Bakugo lab is doing real science.

Just another reason why they are always on top.

The presentation goes smoothly. Katsuki never stutters, never misspeaks, and he’s never over time. The room is packed for an early morning session and Katsuki is not surprised that the round of applause after his acknowledgements is louder than the polite claps that followed the previous speaker.

“We have time for a couple of questions.”

The line forms quickly at the microphone. The first is a nervous looking man with dark hair.

“Wonderful presentation Dr. Bakugo, have you noticed if…”

Katsuki tunes out mid-question. He's already anticipating what is being asked and he moves the slideshow ahead three slides to show data he didn’t cover. In two sentences, the question is resolved. A woman steps up next.

“Hello, Dr. Fukukado from Ketsubutsu University, I was wondering if…”

Again, Katsuki doesn’t even have to think of his answer. Or of his answer to the next question.

Or the next one.

Or the next.

He responds to the line of interrogators with casual deference and obvious boredom until—

“This will be our last question in the interest of time.”

Fucking finally. Katsuki is readying himself to close out his presentation when he hears a timid but eager voice speaking into the microphone.

"Great talk, Dr. Bakugo, really interesting presentation, but have you considered that your results actually suggest the opposite of your stated conclusions?”

Katsuki’s hand freezes over the computer mouse. His head whips upward, shoulders tense under his tailored blazer, stretching the expensive fabric taunt.

The voice belongs to some kid. He looks like a college student playing dress-up in his oversized khaki pants, button-up plaid shirt, and outdated and downright tacky sweater vest. His hair is a mess of green curls and the huge round glasses on his face do little to hide the nervous pink tinge to the boy’s cheeks that is visible even from the stage.

What does this kid think he’s playing at?

“And what makes you say that?” It takes a lot of effort on Katsuki’s part to keep the malice out of his voice. He’d gotten a bad reputation as a graduate student for being aggressive and combative that has taken years to shake. He’s not about to restart the rumor mill over some nobody with a big head.

“Oh, well, um, what I mean to say is that the, um, compound you used has been shown to—to affect many different receptors. Have you used a similar compound? One that only interacts with your receptor of interest?”

It takes even more effort for Katsuki to not visibly flinch on stage. As it is, he has to take a moment’s pause to respond. 

Katsuki Bakugo never pauses.

“Yes. We. Have.” The words come out slow and stilted but nowhere near as painful as his next statement. “We repeated the study with a more selective inhibitor but didn’t find any significant results.”

The boy stands up taller at that, eyes bright behind those stupid glasses. Asshole even smiles a little when his next words come out in a rush.

“Ah! Then that further suggests that it may be one of the other receptors involved which results in the therapeutic effect you see, and based on that previous graph you showed in response to Dr. Fukukado’s question, I would go as far as to say that maybe—”

“We’re sorry, sir.” The proctor interrupts by speaking into her own microphone. “But in the interest of time, we will have to ask you to wait until after the other talks to discuss this question in greater detail. Thank you, Dr. Bakugo, for an impressive talk.”

The following round of applause is much quieter and Katsuki doesn’t miss the murmur that ripples through the crowd as he closes his presentation and steps away from the podium. He grabs his coffee, careful not to grip it too hard as he practically bolts off the stage and heads right to the door instead of retaking his seat. 

Outside in the large hallway of the convention center, Katsuki is fuming.

Where did that nerd get off? How dare he question Katsuki’s conclusions, his research? Katsuki has spent his entire career studying this specific topic after his original ground-breaking thesis with this particular receptor. How could some—some no-name listen to one presentation and refute thousands of dollars and several years of work!

He has to be wrong. His suggestion is off base.

But Katsuki is a man of science first and foremost. His mind is already running wild. He studies the suggestion of another interaction being the cause of his results, turning the idea around in his head to view it from every angle like a rubix cube. In minutes, he has ten new experiments planned, experiments he should have done from the start.

The coffee cup explodes in his hand as he squeezes it too tight.

“Shit!” He yells under his breath, holding the dripping cup away from his person. Luckily he’d only spilled the coffee on his hands and shoes, but he quickly tosses the cup in the nearest trashcan and heads straight to the bathroom.

With talks still going on, the bathroom is empty. A good thing too. When Katsuki walks up to the sink he realizes he’s shaking. He looks up at the mirror meeting his haggard self for what feels like the first time. He’s breathing shallow and heavy, hair suddenly looking more disheveled and less like his usual “I’m too important to care about my hair” styling. He can see dark circles under his red, sleep deprived eyes. Worse, he sees uncertainty.

Katsuki hasn’t been uncertain since he was a graduate student.

He sticks his hands under the automatic sink washing away the coffee with a scowl when he's knocked forward from behind and hears an, “Oh! Sorry!” 

He looks up and sees the last person he’d expected.

The source of his uncertainty stands just as uneasy behind him. The boy from earlier seems to be frozen in place, probably from the shock of running into Katsuki. He's more confusing up close with his skinny limbs and fat cheeks, though that ugly sweater vest could easily be hiding some unseen pudge underneath. 

What really catches Katsuki's eyes are the strangers' wide green irises that seem to shiver under the lights with an innocence Katsuki never had. That plus the freckles dotting his cheeks, only half hidden by his glasses, make Katsuki wonder if he's even a college student.

"Mr. Bakugo! I didn't—sorry again for bumping into you!" The boy looks like he's about to run away when Katsuki stops him.

"Who do you work for?"

The pink on the stranger's cheek bones spreads across his freckles and to his ears before Katsuki even finishes turning around.

"I'm Dr. Yagi! No! I mean, um, I work for Dr. Yagi, Toshinori Yagi, I'm Izuku Midoriya, I'm in my 6th year of my PhD at UA."

Katsuki almost snorts. Six years? Katsuki had finished his masters and PhD in four. But there's a sharp edge to Katsuki's mood that keeps him from laughing. Toshinori Yagi's lab is no joke, even if the man's illness has made him a shell of the man he once was. Once upon a time, Bakugo looked up to him. He'd set him as the standard to beat.

Midoriya must be able to sense Katsuki's appraising stare because he lowers his eyes and grips the bottom of his sweater in both fists. How...cute. Hard to believe that this man is only five or so years younger than Katsuki.

"So, let me guess," Katsuki folds his arms against his chest. "Mr. Yagi pointed out the flaws in our paper and sent you here to make a fool out of me."

"What?" Midoriya's eyes jump upwards to meet Katsuki's stare. "No! No. Yes, I'd read the paper and I'd wondered then if you'd tested any other compounds but I would never question your work, I was just—"

He cuts off and Katsuki practically hisses, "Just?"

"Just curious." Midoriya whispers as if it's a bad word.

Katsuki stares.

Curiosity, huh? 

Not nearly enough graduate students maintain their scientific curiosity after they start the hell that is graduate school, especially not after six years. Long hours, six sometimes seven days a week, spent repeating the same experiments that consistently fail dampen even the strongest flames of scientific inquiry.

But Midoriya said the word with such sincerity that Katsuki feels himself soften. He takes in the innocent eyes and nervous gestures and, Katsuki cannot believe he's thinking this, but its attractive. It's like Katsuki knows he can teach this man a thing or two.

And he'd be eager to learn.

"Then I suppose I ought to thank you for the suggestion."

The way Midoriya’s eyes sparkle is almost enough to give Katsuki second thoughts. But the way his gut warms at the obvious awe keeps him on course.

“If you want to meet sometime outside of the conference,” Katsuki pulls a card from the wallet he’s taken out of his back pocket before he uses the pen from his coat to scribble something on the back. He steps in close to Midoriya, their shoulders practically brushing, before he holds the card out between two fingers to the still dazed graduate student. “You can reach me here.”

He’s hardly ever this forward with his advances but the deep blush still coloring Midoriya’s cheeks makes Katsuki bolder than he ought to be. Their fingers don’t touch when the other man takes the card but he looks more than happy to do so.

“See you around, Mr. Midoirya.” Katsuki says in a low voice as he leaves the bathroom.

If he gets a call, he’d be more than happy to repay the favor and wreck Midoriya after he so kindly ruined Bakugo’s presentation.

Izuku returns to his seat with red cheeks and anxious hands. His fingers tap against his bouncing knee as he tries to catch up with the current presenter before he gives up and pulls the card he’d just received from his pocket.

Had that really just happened?

Did the Dr. Katsuki Bakugo give him, little ol’ Izuku Midoriya, his contact information? There is no way that any of this is real. Dr. Bakugo is notorious for ignoring students and boy was Izuku forgettable. 

Six years and only review papers and middle authors to show for it. He’s spent most of his schooling reading and perfecting skills only to completely revamp his thesis work every five or six months. He can’t help it though. He’s constantly reevaluating his hypothesis, reading new techniques that are way better than what he was using. Plus, it doesn’t help that he immediately agrees to help on other people’s projects whenever they ask. If he can help why shouldn’t he? 

Needless to say, Izuku hasn’t really made a name for himself yet and he can’t help but wonder if he’s let his great mentor Dr. Yagi down. Or if he’ll even graduate in time before his PI retires.

All that is true, and yet, here Izuku is. Holding a plain business card with orange X’s as accents in the corners and glossy black text that reads, Dr. Katsuki Bakugo, PhD.

He touches the text reverently with his fingers. Wow, it’s actually real. He stares at it for a few seconds longer before everyone around him starts to clap. Izuku nearly jumps in surprise, dropping the card to his lap so he can start clapping too. His eyes flick down and he realizes there’s writing on the back.

Right! Of course! He’d seen Dr. Bakugo writing something on the back, he just hadn’t looked at it ye—

Izuku’s eyes bug out. On the back of the card is a phone number. A quick flip to the front of the business card and then to the back again confirms that no, the number is not Dr. Bakugo’s office.

It has to be his cell phone. Dr. Katsuki Bakugo gave Izuku his personal number.

Izuku slides a bit, nearly falling forward and off of his chair before he catches himself. How is this happening? Why is this happening! The lab always joked that Izuku is the greatest networker that has ever lived, but this? Who writes their personal phone number on a business card, especially in this age of emails and apps where you can scan someone’s badge and instantly get their info saved to the app’s contact list.

This feels personal. Like it’s for Izuku and Izuku alone. Like an invitation…

His face feels hot and he shakes his head hard. 

Right, Dr. Bakugo had given Izuku his number in case they were going to meet outside of the conference. Makes sense that his office number would be useless while they were still here. But then why couldn’t Izuku just email him?

Well, if he has Dr. Bakugo’s number, he might as well use it. Izuku takes out his phone and pauses.

What is proper etiquette in this situation? Should he wait a little bit? Would contacting Dr. Bakugo so soon seem desperate? Or would waiting seem rude? Should Izuku call? Is a message fine? Dr. Bakugo’s not that old that he wouldn’t know how to text, but would it seem too casual? Then again, knowing himself, Izuku is going to fuck up a phone call. He just is. He’s going to say something stupid like, “Your brillance is blinding!” or “I have always been chasing after you” or “I used to have the biggest crush on you in undergrad!”

Oh god, no. Definitely not calling. No way.

A text would have to do.

Two speakers later, Izuku finally has a text.

Hello Dr. Bakugo, this is Izuku Midoriya and it was wonderful meeting you earlier today. Thank you so much for giving me your number. I would love to take you up on that offer to meet “outside of the conference.” I leave right after tomorrow’s morning lectures, are you free tonight? Looking forward to it!

Good? Izuku reads it again and cringes.

As good as it’s going to get.

He sends it before he can regret all the life decisions that brought him to this moment. Then he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He still hasn’t gotten a response when the morning session ends. No response at lunch. Or when the poster session begins or ends. He gives up all hope by the time he grabs a $12 salad from the convention hall cafeteria that consists of only the center parts of iceberg lettuce, half a hardboiled egg, and strips of something that hardly pass for bacon. Why is he surprised? Dr. Bakugo was probably just being nice when he gave Izuku his number. He probably didn’t even re—

Izuku drops his salad to the glares of everyone passing by when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Izuku apologizes but he’s too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to even pretend to clean up his mess. He bites his lip as he types in his password and then gapes when he sees the text. 

Ritz Carlton Room 2719 9pm

It’s—it’s to the point but Izuku didn’t expect to be invited straight to Dr. Bakugo’s hotel room. Then again, he’s a very busy man, of course he wants Izuku to come to him. Maybe he’ll show Izuku more data! ...Or maybe he just needs to pack while they speak. And Izuku can’t even stop himself from imagining Dr. Bakugo answering the door in nothing more than a towel—

Nope. Nuh uh. Stop right there. Bad brain! Bad brain!

Not that Izuku wouldn’t like that. He isn’t blind. His labmates had put Dr. Bakugo at the number one spot on the “Professors I’d Fuck To Get My PhD” list, after all. And while Izuku hadn’t helped make that list, he’s definitely had some interesting dreams after falling asleep with one of Dr. Bakugo’s papers in hand…

Okay, done with that train of thought. Izuku bends down to clean up his dropped salad as quickly as possible. If he rushes back to his hotel, maybe he’ll have enough time for a quick cold shower for himself. He could definitely use the time to mentally prepare (and to remind himself that he should most definitely not daydream about one of the world’s top researchers before he meets him in his hotel room). 

Izuku arrives a little too early at the Ritz and he looks suspicious as all hell as he paces the hallway next to the elevators like a creeper. He stares at the watch on his wrist literally counting the seconds before speed walking to the correct door when it finally turns to 9 pm exactly.

Immediately he knocks and winces when it sounds too demanding, too desperate. There’s a pause and a little part of Izuku dies when he thinks he might have to knock again but then the door flies open and—OH.

It’s no towel, but Dr. Bakugo has taken off his blazer and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his crimson dress shirt. His shoes are off and his belt’s unbuckled. Oh shit, his belt’s unbuckled—

“Mr. Midoriya, glad you can make it.” Izuku’s eyes shoot up to Dr. Bakugo’s signature smirk and Izuku opens his mouth to respond only to snap it closed and nod vigorously instead. Dr. Bakugo steps inside as he begins to roll up the long sleeves of his shirt and Izuku doesn’t even notice that he’s following until the other man says, “The door.”

“Right! Sorry!” Izuku turns to shut the door and uses the opportunity to look up to the ceiling in pain.

This is going to be a rough meeting. Why is Izuku so awkward!

No. Not this time. Izuku will not make a fool of himself tonight. He steels his resolve as the door snaps shut and he turns with a confidence he definitely does not actually have.

“Thanks again for inviting me Dr. Bak—”


Izuku freezes.

“Excuse me?”

Dr. Bakugo looks bored as he looks at Izuku over his shoulder. “What? You’re going to call me ‘Dr. Bakugo’ when we fuck? Not on your life, kid.”

And just like that, Izuku dies. Goes to heaven. Then to hell. All before his ghost comes back to earth and slowly seeps back into his still-standing empty husk of a body.

“When we what?” Izuku’s voice hits a whole octave higher than he means to and that gets the distinguished professor’s attention. 

His eyes narrow as they take in Izuku and this has to be a dream. A wild, crazy, totally impossible dream.

“Shit.” Dr. Bakugo finally says. “Are you serious? Was it really not obvious? Fucking—look, I’m not some asshole creep who’s trying to pressure you into sex when you thought we were, what? Talking about research? At fucking 9 pm in my hotel room? Like that would have even made sense. Either way, it’s whatever. I’m not making you stay. Walk out those doors and we pretend this shit never happened. This was all a misunderstanding and that’s all, got it?”

Oh. Oh wow. This is real. Dr. Bakugo actually had invited him over to have sex. Izuku is frozen in time and space while his idol begins to lower his sleeves again before he notices Izuku is still there. 

“What are you fucking staring at? Fucking le—”

“Please fuck me.”

Dr. Bakugo stops mid-motion before frowning with a sigh. “Seriously, just forget this ever happened. The last thing you want is to wake up and regret this in the morning. You didn’t even come here thinking we were going to—”

“I got off to your 2015 TedTalk in my hotel room before coming here,” Izuku blurts out before he can think about what he’s saying. Bakugo looks like someone has just slapped him and Izuku takes in a deep breath and holds it. He can’t believe he’s just said that. He can’t breathe as he waits for the other man’s response.

“...Well, shit.”

That’s enough for Izuku. He rushes forward and kisses the distinguished researcher, hands gripping at the older man’s shirt like he’s afraid Bakugo might change his mind. But there’s no hesitation in Katsuki’s returning the kiss. In fact, it’s immediately obvious that he’s in charge. First he’s encouraging Izuku to open his mouth with his tongue at Izuku’s lower lip, then he’s clearly moving them toward the bed. He’s in charge from the start, but he’s making his move slowly.

Way too slowly.

Izuku’s left knee has just hit the edge of the king bed when he uses his grip on Dr. Bakugo’s shirt as leverage to make the larger man fall onto the bed first. The move obviously catches the professor off guard as he immediately says, “what the—shit!” as Izuku completely pulls down the older man’s dress pants without even undoing the top button.

The bulge of Dr. Bakugo’s cock is much more obvious with Dr. Bakugo only in his boxers; the material tented and taunt as it tries to keep his erection contained. Izuku doesn’t hesitate in pulling those down too and he has to bite back a moan. Dr. Bakugo’s cock is bigger than he would have dared imagine. It’s swollen but perfectly straight and honestly pretty perfect all around. He doesn’t even think about saying something before he leans over the man, one knee resting on the bed so he can take as much as he can into his mouth.

Dr. Bakugo moans, voice low but loud. Loud enough the neighbors will hear. Imagine the scandal if anyone catches Izuku leaving after hearing all the noise they’re going to make tonight…

Izuku can feel his erection twitch in his pants as he begins to hollow out his cheeks around the cock in his mouth.

The professor is big, however, and it’s been a long, long time since Izuku’s given a blow job It’s been a long time since he’s gotten dicked down at all if he’s honest. He chokes a few times, visibly gagging as he begins to move up and down his idol’s dick. Tears form in the corner of Izuku’s eyes right before he feels a hand land on the top of his head.

Crap, is Dr. Bakugo going to stop him? Does he think this is too much for Izuku? The grad student looks up and his other knee wobbles at the intensity of Dr. Bakugo’s stare and the dangerous smile on his face. The hand in Izuku’s hair suddenly becomes a death grip in his curls.

In a second, the pressure on his head pushes Izuku down, focing Izuku to take all of the professor’s cock down his throat. He chokes off course but his eyes roll up in his skull at how good the burn feels. He feels like he can’t breathe but before Izuku can really think about it, he’s pulled up and off the dick so he can take in a gasping breath.

“Well, what do you know. That mouth is good for something other than ruining my life’s research.”

Before Izuku can respond, he’s pushed back down onto the cock in front of him and he outright moans in pleasure. The blowjob is fast and rough and oh so good. Saliva is dripping down Izuku’s sore lips and he should be embarrassed, shouldn’t he? He must look like a mess! But that just makes him harder, hornier. He’s desperate for the professor to cum down his throat so he can taste what world-renowned researcher’s semen tastes like. 

For science, of course.

Too bad he doesn’t get to know. They’ve been going at it for what feels like an eternity when Izuku is pulled off completely and pushed off the bed. He staggers backwards, ass hitting the hotel room’s desk as Dr. Bakugo stands. It only takes him a step to reach Izuku and in his next move he spins Izuku around forcing him to bend forward toward the mirror hanging above the desk with a hand on his neck.

“Not bad, for a student.” Dr. Bakugo whispers as he keeps one hand on Izuku’s neck and reaches over to a half-open laptop bag with the other. In the mirror’s reflection, Izuku can see him pull out a condom from one of the bag’s pockets. He brings the wrapper up to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth before spitting the ripped plastic to the side with a wicked grin. “But now the real fun starts, doesn’t it?”

Izuku whimpers as he nods as much as the hand on the back of his neck will allow. His hands immediately go down to his own khaki pants as he undos his top button and zipper. He can’t exactly pull them down while still being held in his bent position but Dr. Bakugo finishes the job once he’s done with the condom.

“What the hell, are you already lubed up?”

Izuku freezes. Shit. He thought he’d cleaned it all up earlier!

Dr. Bakugo laughs. “I thought you said you jerked off earlier.”

Izuku makes the mistake of looking at his own blushing reflection, turning his cheeks even hotter as he responds, “No, I said I got off, not jerked off, Dr. Bakugo.”

There’s a sudden slap against Izuku’s ass that makes him yelp in surprise.

“What’d I say?”

It takes Izuku a second to figure out what Dr. Bakugo’s referring to before he goes, “So—sorry, Kat—ah!”

He doesn’t even get the professor’s name out before there’s a dick slowly entering his ass. He’d fingered himself earlier but the stretch of Katsuki’s huge cock is on a completely different level. Izuku has to dig his teeth into his lower lip to stop from cumming on the spot when it’s fully inside of him.

As it is, his legs are shaking. It—it feels amazing and it’s really been way too long. But as good as it feels with just having the dick inside of him, he can’t help but look up at the mirror’s reflection when Katsuki doesn’t start moving after a few moments.

To Izuku’s surprise, the PI is just staring at him as if he’s enjoying the view. He’s even more surprised when the older man speaks.

“Gotta say, I was pretty pissed when you made a fool outta me at the presentation earlier.” The statement is accompanied by the painfully slow movement of Katsuki pulling his dick out. It’s distracting enough that Izuku doesn’t even get to repeat that he would never try to do so on purpose. “But don’t worry,”

Katsuki stops when only the tip of his dick is still in Izuku’s ass. 

“I intend to return the favor by making sure you can’t attend anything tomorrow without it being obvious that I wrecked your ass.”

In one hard thrust, Dr. Bakugo is all the way back inside of him and Izuku can’t keep his moan of ecstasy in as his back arches against the desk. 

The pace is brutal; the sounds of skin slapping against skin deafening in his ears. He doesn’t even hear his screams of “Yes, yes, Katsuki, yes!” though he can feel his lips moving.

There’s more tears in his eyes which he can’t avoid since he’s staring at his reflection the entire fuck. It’s way hotter than he’d thought to see himself get fucked, especially with Dr. Bakugo’s manic grin as he pounds into his ass.

It’s almost sad when he feels himself about to cum, especially since his cock remains untouched. He wants to hold his orgasm off, tell Katsuki to slow down or stop or something. 

But all that comes out of his mouth is, “Yes, please, more, wreck me, teach me a lesson, professor! I’ve been a bad boy.”

“Damn. Straight. Midoriya.”

It’s too much. Too much!

“Ka—Dr. Bakugo!” He screams on accident as he cums all over the desk and floor.

“Shit.” The PI says through gritted teeth and Izuku feels something warm fill his ass though it’s obviously trapped in the plastic condom. 

They’re both breathing heavy when it’s clear they’ve finished. A second later Dr. Bakugo is pulling out and Izuku practically falls onto the desk. Izuku watches as Katsuki takes in the mess Izuku’s made with a disgusted expression before he disappears in the direction of the bathroom, full condom still stuck on his dick but supported by his hand. 

It’s an awkward moment.

Should—should he leave now? What did one do after getting absolutely railed by one of the greatest minds in the world?

Izuku tries to stand but his legs are as good as cooked noodles. He nearly falls into the puddle of cum on the floor, barely catching himself on the desk before he does. A second later, Katsuki appears again with a wet washcloth that he tosses in Izuku’s direction.

The grad student tries to catch it, but really it just kind of hits his arm and sticks. Luckily, Dr. Bakugo doesn’t notice as he begins to dig through a nearby vendor bag.

“Really can’t walk, huh?”

Izuku turns completely red as he makes a squeaky, embarrassing sounding “Uh, huh.” 

At least he has the excuse of needing to clean himself off so he can avoid Katsuki’s eyes.


Izuku looks up just in time to catch the next object thrown at him. When he looks at it, his eyes go wide to see it’s an oversized shirt with some company’s logo on it.

“Take off that ridiculous sweater vest. You’re obviously not walking anywhere anytime soon.”

Dr. Bakugo disappears into the bathroom again before Izuku can think to object. He’s kind of glad though because the heat in his chest and the smile on his face is probably not the way he should be reacting to the thought of staying the night with the older man.

But when they do finally climb into bed, Katsuki stays to his side of the bed and so Izuku sticks to his. He tries to not be too disappointed, plus, it makes it easier to sneak out at first light the next morning. He still has to pack, after all, and he barely finishes before it’s time for the morning session of presentations.

Izuku doesn’t see Katsuki again.

At least until he’s at this year’s conference.

Izuku’s graduated by now, but the moment his new boss, Dr. Aizawa, introduces him to Dr. Bakugo, he feels like a dumb graduate student all over again. Izuku awkwardly holds out his hand for a handshake.

“It’s wonderful to formally meet you, Dr. Bak—”


Izuku freezes as Katsuki not only takes his hand and shakes it hard. The PI leans in close to whisper,

“Let’s keep the Dr. Bakugo reserved for the bedroom, shall we?”