Chapter Text
Katsuki was one semester away from graduating. One measly semester, just five months, and he’d be graduating from UA as the top of his class with honors. No one had done as well as Katsuki had. First Place school festival champion all three years, work study with the number four hero Mirko, and on track to be valedictorian. He was approaching a perfect end to a perfect school career with everything in line for his launch into debut to be perfect. He’d rocket up those charts faster than anybody before him and prove once and for all that Katsuki Bakugou was the best.
That was if he could get to the end of the semester without fucking blowing Colorshot’s head off for this bomb she just dropped on him.
“I thought I didn’t need any more electives,” Katsuki said, carefully keeping his voice steady.
Despite the strides he had made in attitude since starting UA, mostly in thanks to his stupid ass friends, it was a struggle not to start shouting at Colorshot as she sat behind her brightly colored desk in the school counseling office. He had never been the biggest fan of the paintball-producing hero, but now he was about ready to start strangling her as she called him into her office on the first day back from winter break and told him he was missing a measly half credit and wouldn’t be able to graduate without it.
“I told you in your second year you’d have to make up the elective if you subbed it out for field hours, Bakugou,” Colorshot said, unbothered by the way a small lick of smoke escaped up his palms, “you told me that was fine and you’d do it in your second semester. When I didn’t see one on your schedule this semester, I realized you had forgotten.”
Katsuki tries to think back to such a conversation but comes up empty. His second year had been busy with how laser-focused he was on getting Mirko to take him as a work study student, so he remembered precious little outside of exam studying and training with Kirishima. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly a difficult to believe story. Katsuki had swapped several classes for field work hours that ended up front loading his first semester in his third year. But he could have sworn he had gotten them all worked out. How was he supposed to remember one little single semester elective credit?
Either way, there was no getting out of it now. Katsuki would choose something, study hard, and ace it as always.
“What are my choices?” He asked once it became clear Colorshot wouldn’t be giving him a pass.
“Well, it’s a single semester credit so your options are limited. I have a dance credit with the first years-”
“No. Absolutely not,” he insisted. The mocking from Kaminari alone would make that unbearable, let alone any actual dancing he’d be forced to do. He had gone to enough of Ashido’s showcases with the team to know he’d surely kill himself and others if he was made to participate. The thought makes him remember the band, though. He wouldn’t mind that, especially if he could stay on percussion. His few performances with Jirou’s band had been enjoyable, despite his constant complaining. “What about a music class?”
“All of those are full year credits. You’ve already taken too many field hours this semester, and you’ve completed a foreign language… oh, I see I have a quirk analysis class,” Colorshot brightened up when she found the option on her computer, but she frowned slightly as she glanced back at Katsuki, “It’s an advanced course, though. There’d be a lot of catching up.”
Katsuki frowned. After busting his ass in the first semester, he had hoped for an easy second semester that would allow him to spend most of his time in the field with Mirko. An advanced quirk analysis class was difficult in the first place, and would be especially so for someone who hadn’t taken one before like Katsuki. A lot of studying to keep up. But Ectoplasm was a fair teacher that Katsuki had done well with before, and if it was the only other option…
“So it’s this or dance?” he asked with a sigh, having already made up his mind.
“I’ve already signed you up for it,” Colorshot told him, the action answer enough. “I took out your second free period slot for it. End of the day, second floor, room 233.”
Damnit. Katsuki had wanted that slot so he could leave school early. There’s nothing to be done about it, though, so he just thanks Colorshot in a stiff voice and takes his new schedule, the paper still warm from the printer. He grabbed his bag off the hook on the way out, coming out into the hall just as his first free period ended and lunch hour began. Shouldering his way between the energetic first years, his aim is to get to the cafeteria as quickly as possible to begin bitching to his friends. Kaminari and Jirou were both still out on some out-of-town mission with Present Mic that had gone long, but Uraraka and Kirishima would be there, and Sero if he hadn’t decided to go simping after Todoroki where he had lunch out in the courtyard. Ashido was fifty/fifty with how much she liked to eat lunch with the dance team, but all the better if she decided to show up. She was one of the better of his friends to bitch to, as she didn’t do stupid things like tell him to ‘look on the brightside.’
He’s just about to enter the hall leading to the cafeteria when he hears a loud commotion, and then a cloyingly sweet smell drifting toward him. Cotton candy and bubblegum. To Katsuki’s surprise, he recognizes the scent.
Quickly he shoved his way past two gawking second years to get to the center of the problem. For the most part people have given the situation distance, so it’s easy to make his way to the front of the semi-circle that has formed in front of the lockers. It’s exactly as he thought. Uraraka was standing with her back to the lockers, hurriedly trying to clasp her hands over her now uncovered scent gland to contain the rather potent smell. Close to heat, if Katsuki had to guess. In front of her, stuttering apologies, is some bumbling second year that Katsuki half-recognized from a joint-class training exercise.
“I thought.. I thought you were someone else-” he stammered his way through, face bright red and hand clutching Uraraka’s blocker. “I’m so- I didn’t mean…”
Katsuki shucked off his school jacket, letting his bag fall to the floor. With two quick strides he stepped into their empty space and shouldered the smaller boy out of the way, resting his jacket over Uraraka’s shoulders and closing it tightly around her so his scent would cover hers, at least enough that every immature first year alpha would stop drooling like they’ve never smelled an omega before. Even if Katsuki didn’t have legendary self-control as an alpha (a scent hadn’t ever caused him to so much as blush) he was well-used to Uraraka’s scent by now. It didn’t bother him anymore than Kirishima’s or Sero’s.
“You alright, Cheeks?” Katsuki asked quietly, letting go of her shoulders when she had gotten a good grip on either side of the jacket to keep it closed around her neck. With his broad shoulders, it easily covered everything.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, but her cheeks were bright red and her eyes beaded with humiliated tears, “It wouldn’t have been a problem but I’m.. y’know.. My suppressant costs went up again.”
Oh. Well that would explain why she was even having heat symptoms. Most of the omegas at UA, however small that population was, were drugged to the gills with suppressants and didn’t have heats unless they went on scheduled medical breaks to regulate their hormones. Though since Uraraka kept an after-school job, she hadn’t had one in probably a few years. All of her free time and days off went to hero work.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the cool down room,” Katsuki offered. They both knew it wasn’t because she needed help walking.
Uraraka let him help without complaint, but Katsuki knew she wasn’t happy that she needed it. He gently placed his hand between her shoulder blades, more so for everyone else to see than any real support. Despite the fact that Uraraka was one of the scariest in the school in terms of raw power, her omega status made it so she had never quite gotten the respect she deserved. The only omegas who really did get any respect were the ones who bent over backwards to hide their designations like Todoroki and Tetsutetsu. As some of the first omegas to get into UA, they were paving the way for others. Also known as having to keep their chins high even as they were hit with disrespect from all angles. Katsuki had to respect it, especially as an alpha. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it without beating at least three people’s asses a week.
The crowd parted for him easily as he led her, and he scooped his bag up on the way. Unsurprising. His reputation preceded him, as did his large stature and naturally large presence. He’s sure this will spawn more than a few rumors about the nature of their relationship, but he didn’t care what petty gossip first-years believed. Besides, Uraraka wasn’t too annoying of a name to be attached to his reputation, even if a relationship between them would never happen. She was too busy drooling after that vigilante she couldn’t seem to stop running into and Katsuki had yet to be enticed by a single scent, omega or otherwise.
The idiotic second year tries to follow them, evidently still attempting to apologize to Uraraka (or maybe now that he had gotten a taste of her scent hit on her, given the dreamy look in his eye.) When he didn’t stop once they turned the corner into the emptied out hall leading to student resource rooms, he turned around and grabbed the little idiot by his jacket collar, not reacting to the way he hissed and his eyes turned snakelike despite the fear in them.
“If I ever catch word of you doing that to someone else, friend of yours or otherwise, I’m going to beat your ass. Got it?” Katsuki hadn’t gotten a fighting infraction on his record since the first semester of first year, but he was tempted to break that good record now.
He may have been an alpha, but the kid is at least smart enough to know when he’s outclassed. He nodded jerkily, hands going lax by his sides in a placating gesture. It was enough for Katsuki, and also Uraraka was quietly asking him to let it go, so he just released the younger boy and gave him a quick shove to get some distance between them. By the time Katsuki turns back to Uraraka, he’s halfway down the hall and nearly running to escape him.
“Thanks, Bakugou,” Uraraka thanked him in a soft voice, “you didn’t have to help.”
“I fuckin’ know that, Cheeks.”
“I mean it. I really appreciate it.”
“If you’re gonna work in my agency one day, I can’t have your street cred ruined. This was for purely selfish reasons.”
“Thanks, Bakugou,” she repeated, getting back to her normal self “you’re a good friend.”
A good friend. The wording makes his stomach drop, but he doesn’t let it show to Uraraka lest she think it had something to do with her. He ruminates on it even as he sees her safely to the ‘cool down’ room where omega students could have a place to work out suppressant/patch issues or stay if any heat symptoms arose. His offer to stay until she got her scent under control and patches back on is rejected, and he heads back to lunch with her words still bothering him. A good friend. How long had it been since he thought of that day?
Katsuki knew he was a good friend now. He knew that for the most part, he had gotten over his terrible superiority complex that had plagued his junior high years. Through a combination of hero work, having friends who could kick his ass if he was too terrible, and just generally aging, he had turned into someone who could be described as a good friend. Even with his complaining and name calling, he looked out for the people he called his friends, no matter how small of a number it was. Walking Uraraka somewhere safe and looking out for her during a patch mishap was the least he could do. But it was still leagues better than how he used to be.
A burnt notebook and watery green eyes plague him all the way down to the cafeteria, and even the sight of a newly returned Jirou and Kaminari sitting with Kirishima doesn’t lift his spirits in enough time to get the look off of his face. By the time he sat down next to Jirou, they’re all glancing between themselves.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Kaminari sighed, “what’s wrong today?”
“You say it like I usually have a fuckin problem, dunceface,” Katsuki snapped, pulling the tray Kirishima got ready for him closer. He used to reject the kindness or bitch about wanting to pick his own shit, but eventually had gotten used to it.
“Woah, he hasn’t gotten that look since first year,” Jirou snickered, a white bandage wrapped around her forehead showing she hadn’t gotten off from the mission unscathed.
“Yeah, something’s bothering you today, bro,” Kirishima frowned, “tell us what’s wrong.”
Ah, the downside of being a good friend. Getting good friends in return. Good friends who were nosy as fuck and wouldn’t let him stew in his own negative emotions. Most of the time the result of said nosiness was a net positive, but he had never been able to bring himself to confess to what he did that day. It was better left in the memories of Katsuki and the two idiots who hadn’t stopped him.
“Uraraka had a patch accident,” he said in lieu of the truth. It was a good enough excuse, and he had been planning on telling them anyway if they hadn’t heard yet so they could keep an eye out on that idiot second year in case he got any ideas in his head about Uraraka.
“Dude, what? Is she okay?” Jirou frowned, teasing smile dropping off of her face. From the corner of his eye Katsuki could see Kaminari pull his shirt collar up to hide his own patches, though the gesture was likely unintentional. Probably remembering his own patch accident in second year when he got outed at the school festival. Of the thirteen omegas in third year, all of them had attempted to hide their designations at first. Only two of them were still succeeding, though Todoroki’s was pretty much an open secret to the entire class and Tetsutetsu had more than a few people who knew.
“She’s fine, I brought her to the cool down room. She can probably come back to classes after lunch,” Katsuki assured them all.
“What happened? Ocha is one of the most responsible people I know when it comes to patching,” Kirishima frowned. It goes unsaid that she had to be responsible with patching since she couldn’t afford high-grade suppressants like Todoroki or Tsunotori could. Or make them homemade like Hatsume did.
“Idiot second year ripped it off of her thinking it was one of his buddies,” just the thought of it made Katsuki irritated again, “so we should probably keep an eye on that guy. Snake quirk in Midnight’s class.”
“Maehara? Damn, I thought he was smarter than that,” Kirishima frowned, “who would pull off anyone’s patch as a joke? Imagine if she had been in preheat.”
Katsuki held back his comment that she had been halfway there. As much as he liked to think everyone in UA had sufficient enough self control to act responsibly if a student went into heat on campus, he knew there were likely to be one or two who’d do something stupid. Going into rut was the more common issue, but that was because of the population divide. Luckily Katsuki’s class had escaped any such incidents, but there were rumors something had happened between Tokoyami and Asui on a mission that happened over the recent winter break. Katsuki normally didn’t care about gossip, but with Ashido in his friend group he usually got it anyway.
“I think he liked her scent too, if you get what I mean. Are there any classes we can’t walk her between?” Katsuki asked, already doing the mental math. They shared their first two periods together, no issue, and his history class was one door down from her math class. After that he had a free period so taking a detour to walk her wouldn’t matter, but after homeroom with Aizawa they had nearly no overlap. Someone else would have to do that. Maybe-
“Geez, so protective, Bakubro. Who knew you’d be such an ally?” Kaminari jokes, likely to clear the tension. He reached over the table to try and ruffle his hair, but Katsuki smacked his hand away before it could make contact. He spent too much time keeping his hair good looking to let Kaminari’s greasy ass fingers run through it. One of the lingering influences from his first work study with Best Jeanist, he supposed.
“I’m not protective, I’m logical. She already has one crazy ass stalker, she doesn’t need another,” he insisted with a sniff.
“Hey, Toga is getting better about that from what I hear,” Jirou defended, “I almost met her on this trip, you know. She was on her way out of a gang fight when we got there.”
“It still isn’t a good idea to see her. You should have seen when they got into a scuffle last summer,” Kirishima shivered, “I thought she was going to kill me when I grabbed Ocha’s arm.”
Katsuki didn’t doubt it. He had only run into Toga a handful of times and each time he got the impression she was ten thousand percent down to knife up anybody she perceived as being romantically involved with Uraraka. Katsuki probably would have taken care of that by now if Uraraka wasn’t entangled with her in some very weird homoerotic redemptive love situation. Besides, she wasn’t exactly a villain. Mostly a vigilante with bad impulses. Since All Might had retired, villany rates had gone up so much that heroes were hesitant to spend resources on people who contributed even the smallest amount to the fight against villains.
“Well she wouldn’t question your intentions if you went ahead and made a move on Mina,” Kaminari said, making Kirishima’s ears turn red, “we all know you want to date her, dude. At some point you have to stop pussying out and just go for it.”
“I just-! I don’t want to… you know how omega heroes are about dating,” Kirishima tried to defend himself, “I don’t want her to feel pressured or like-”
“Like getting mated ends her career?” Jirou asked sympathetically.
It was a reasonable concern for most omegas. Katsuki knew of more than one omega hero who had gone out of fieldwork after getting mated, and it was an especially dangerous risk if you were mating another hero, specifically an alpha. Most prominently to mind comes Suneater, a hero a few years older than them who interned with Fatgum when Kirishima had been in his first year. Such a promising career stopped in its tracks due to an accidental pregnancy over an impulsively made mating bond. Kirishima had been worried when the news first hit, since he and Suneater had been decently close and the older hero had stopped responding soon after the announcement. Now, six months later, they still hadn’t heard anything. Maybe Katsuki would ask Lemillion the next time he ran into him if he had heard anything.
“Yeah,” Kirishima confirmed with a sigh, “I just don’t want her to think I’m another Alpha douche who will want her to retire if we mate…”
“Well you could take the Sero approach and develop a kink for when she beats your ass. That way she’ll know for suresies you don’t want her to retire,” Kaminari suggested with a snicker, pointing to the window near their table. When Katsuki glanced out of it he saw Todoroki underneath his normal tree and Sero next to him, the tape user staring starry-eyed as Todoroki rambled about some surely nonsensical story about how he misinterpreted someone’s advance toward him.
Recently it seemed like all of his friends were falling in love. Not stupid high school dalliances, but actual real-deal love. Kirishima and Ashido were one heartfelt conversation away from dating, Todoroki’s denseness could only withstand Sero’s hearteyes for so much longer, Uraraka and Toga were probably already fucking, and sooner or later Yaoyorozu was gonna man up and ask Jirou out. All of his dumbass friends developing love lives out of nowhere was deeply irritating to Katsuki. He just couldn’t see the appeal. There hadn’t been a single person who had made him feel anything deeper than a passing sexual attraction, let alone the desire to canoodle or make himself emotionally vulnerable.
The rest of lunch passes uneventfully with only lingering gossip on when Kirishima should make a move. Katsuki doesn’t participate much other than to rebuke Kaminari when he suggests Katsuki go on a date or make a move on his suggestion of the week. The only person Katsuki had been mildly tempted to date was a student from Shiketsu he had met while they interned with Mirko, but he had ended up wanting an affair too lovey-dovey for Katsuki’s taste. Since then he had hard shut down every bashful first year stuffing love letters into his locker or fellow work study students asking him out for dinner. Nothing tempted him enough, and Katsuki didn’t do shit he was uninterested in.
Unless of course it was this stupid quirk analysis class he had to worry about.
He dreads it for the rest of the day, drifting through his normal science class and homeroom while trying to come up with strategies to assure his A+ and perfect GPA remained unchallenged. There’s a slight distraction when Uraraka arrives in homeroom, plain-smelling and patched up, but after she assures that she’s fine and an incident report was filed with Midnight he’s back to being bothered. He can’t even have one of Aizawa’s tricky ass exercises to distract him because it’s the first day back and he’s busy with some orientation bullshit for a new staff member, so he was doomed to read through the hero ethics manual and write a report on one rule they disagreed with and provide an answer for why that was. Katsuki just defaults to the rule about alpha heroes not being required to wear patches if they were properly medicated but omega heroes having to wear them regardless. The assignment barely takes him twenty minutes, and then he’s back to dreading.
Quirk analysis was something he wasn’t bad at, since he wasn’t bad at anything thank you very much, but it didn’t come as easy to him as everything else had. One jackass student who had interned with Mirko at the same time as him suggested it was ‘a lack of necessary creativity.’ Katsuki had nearly broken his no friendly-fire record that day. The one or two assignments he had done on quirk analysis had nearly tipped his perfect average down into a B, and both times he had sought out extra credit to repair the damage. So how was he meant to deal with an entire advanced class on that bullshit? The memorization stuff on different notable quirk analyzers would be fine, but coming up with that shit himself? It was hardly fair to knock his grade because he couldn’t Sherlock Holmes his way to answers on a villain’s quirk from two hints. Maybe Ectoplasm would take mercy on his situation.
Katsuki is planning on making a gesture of goodwill (maybe bring him an apple or some corny shit) to him to start off the semester right when Ashido appears in front of him, changed into her gym uniform despite the fact that the gym teacher (Hound dog) was also busy with this new staff member and had given them all a free period.
“Oh Bakubabe~” she sang, hands on her hips, “I heard you hate me.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” he asked, looking up from the quirk analysis text book on his lap. He had decided to read through it as much as possible before the real lectures started so he’d have at least some prior knowledge.
“You turned down dance,” she sniffed, mock-hurt on her face, “I’m a student aide in that class, you know. We could have hung out!”
Katsuki didn’t question how she knew. Colorshot, in addition to being a pro and being the school counselor, did all of the arts classes and made no secret that Ashido was her favorite student.
“And have you make me wear those stupid leotards and twirl? Hard pass,” Katsuki snorted.
“I wouldn’t have made you twirl, I’d make you do the lifts. I swear we get nobody with actual lifting ability in that class,” she sighed, twirling a bubblegum pink curl around her finger, “imagine if I got you in there. You could toss the first years halfway to the ceiling no problem. We’d totally win nationals.”
“You’ll be fine without me, Raccoon Eyes. Besides, Ectoplasm teaches this class. You know how he did me a solid when I missed an exam in Hero Ethics last year.”
At his words, Ashido gave a grimace, lips pursing awkwardly like whenever she was about to tell one of the first years they hadn’t made the competitive team.
“Oh, Colorshot forgot to mention, didn’t she?” she said sympathetically.
Katsuki tensed up, brows narrowing as he hoped the implication he got was wrong.
“Forgot to tell me what?” he asked suspiciously.
“Ectoplasm switched to teaching all of the Hero Ethics courses after Whirlpool left. He isn’t teaching Quirk Analysis this semester until they get a replacement,” Ashido told him in an exaggerated whisper, sitting down on the bleachers next to him and invading his personal space.
“Shit,” he groaned. More than a few of the teachers at UA didn’t like him due to his bad attitude in first year, and he hadn’t wanted to risk having one of them for a class he was already going to struggle with. “Who is it, then?”
“That’s the thing,” Ashido said giddily, struggling to maintain her conspiratory whisper, “they have a new teacher this year. He’s our age.”
“Our age?” Katsuki asked, “You mean he’s on the younger side?”
“No, literally our age. Like, eighteen. One of those kid geniuses from I-Island,” Ashido told him, “he’s about to graduate college, and his final project is teaching a semester at UA. That’s why all of the teachers have been talking to him all day, to prepare him for working with us.”
“A student, hm,” Katsuki mused quietly. Not necessarily a bad thing for him. He was far past the point of considering intimidating him to get what he wanted, but maybe if he was nice enough he’d feel too bad to grade him harshly. “What do you know-”
“Are you guys talking about the new quirk analysis teacher?” Katsuki looked up with a subdued scowl at the grating voice that belonged to quite possibly the most annoying person in the entire student body. Yo Shindo.
When the boy had transferred into UA halfway through last year, Katsuki hadn’t thought anything of it. He was in Vlad King’s class anyways, and they didn’t have much overlap save one or two classes. But slowly, he had come to realize there were few people in this world who got under his skin as efficiently as Shindo. Really, Katsuki was pretty sure over half of his egomania had disappeared after they shared one (1) mission together. He’d rather die than be perceived the way Shindo was perceived.
“Yeah, we were!” Ashido says eagerly. Katsuki knew she was also irritated by Shindo, but gossip came before student beef for her, “what do you know? Colorshot wouldn’t tell me much.”
“I saw him this morning talking to Midnight when I had to go into the faculty lounge to find Thirteen. God, you guys should see how tasty he looks,” Shindo says salaciously, nearly drooling as he recounted his impression of the new staff member, “he’s got these big green ‘fuck me’ eyes and way too tight of a bod for one of those I-Academy nerds.”
If Katsuki didn’t avoid talking to Shindo as a rule, he’d ask if he remembered the man he was shamelessly drooling after right now was a staff member. Shindo was acting like he had active plans to fuck him and knowing his ego, he probably thought getting him into bed wouldn’t be an issue.
“Omega?” Ashido asks curiously. Right now UA was entirely staffed by alphas with the notable exception of Present Mic, who was a beta (though Katsuki had theories on that, given the man wore patches far stronger in prescription than a beta would have to.)
“I wish. Beta, but you wouldn’t guess it based on his figure,” Shindo sighed, doing the hourglass motion in the air, “still, what a fantasy. You could totally sleep with a teacher without having to worry about them catching statutory.”
Gross. Katsuki’s face reflected his thoughts without him having to voice it aloud, and Shindo laughed annoyingly when he saw it.
“Come on, don’t make that face! You’ll not be so high and mighty when you get a look,” Shindo insisted. “He’s such a cutie. His face went as red as a tomato when I winked at him. He’d be an easy lay. He gives total late glow up energy and those people are always easy to fuck.”
That was enough gross teenage horniness for Katsuki. He shoved his textbook back into his bag and swung it over his shoulder, standing up off of the bleachers.
“Are you leaving, Bakugou?” Ashido asked, looking up at him as he stepped away, “we have ten minutes left in this class.”
“I’m going to go meet this new teacher early,” he said. Maybe if he showed he wouldn’t be a total jackass pervert like Shindo, he could make an ally of the teacher.
“Wanna take a look for yourself?” The smirk Shindo gave nearly incited actual violent urges in Katsuki, but he valiantly held back, “go ahead, but I got there first. He’s totally into me.”
Katsuki considered briefly tracking down Toga and telling her that Shindo had been harassing Uraraka so that he would be murdered without Katsuki having to do the work himself. Ultimately he decides that’s too much work, and he merely rolls his eyes before telling Ashido he’d meet her and Kirishima after school. Shindo is still being gross as Katsuki leaves the gym, Ashido making excuses about having to change. Liar. Katsuki knew her last period was dance and she’d need to wear the gym uniform anyways.
Walking the near empty halls of UA, Katsuki wonders after the new teacher. He must be talented if the finest hero institution in the country was willing to let him teach a class by himself, even if it was for only half a semester. People expected the best out of this school, and the best usually didn’t include teenage faculty members. That had to mean he was on another level when it came to quirk analysis. Especially so if they let him teach when apparently being conventionally attractive. Shindo was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar and he also was judgemental and vain. If he said the new teacher was that attractive, he meant it. With a bunch of (most alpha) hormone crazed teenagers, having their teacher be a shy little nerd was a disaster waiting to happen. Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder what the rationale behind it was.
Katsuki is still wondering on it when he approaches the class. It still has the title of the class beside the door, but the teacher’s nameplate underneath was blank. Hadn’t been replaced yet, likely. The small box of letters sitting on the floor underneath it show it was a work in progress. Katsuki knew how hard it was to manage those things, since once as a punishment after snapping at Aizawa he had been made to take all the letters off of every class, clean them, and then put them back up. It had been an effective punishment, but it had also given Katsuki a knack for being able to put them on easily. Maybe he could offer to help the new teacher as an act of goodwill.
The door is partially open, but he knocks on it to be polite as he steps into the doorway. The class looked as normal as any other class, the decorations unchanged from the few times Katsuki had seen here before. The desk was different, though. The same oak that Ectoplasm had used, but the desktop is much messier and littered with a variety of notebooks and folders. The new teacher was either still getting settled or was very messy. Most notably though is the set of legs sticking out from underneath the desk. Very nice legs, Katsuki had to admit. Long and lean beneath the plain gray slacks, but getting thicker toward the thighs and leading to a shapely ass accentuated by the slacks pulled tight around it due to the positioning. He was on his knees, ass in the air as he evidently did something under the desk. Katsuki hated it but goddamn, Shindo was right. That was an obscenely good body for an age-appropriate teacher to have in a classroom full of teenage hormone bombs.
Once Katsuki’s brain gets over the temporary shock of the sight and the fact that such a sight actually affected him, the next thing he notices are the cheesy All Might socks visible between where his slacks end and his loafers start.
“Everything okay in there?” he asks.
There’s a gasp of surprise and then a quiet bang followed by a wince as the teacher presumably smacks his head on the underside of the desk.
“Yes, yes! Sorry, I dropped some papers!” The voice is panicked, nervous, and upsettingly familiar.
Katsuki is assaulted by images of teary green eyes and burnt notebooks and bruised arms and he jumped, Katsuki before he can talk himself out of the hysterical thought. On instinct he takes a step back, but it’s too late. The teacher is pulling himself out from under the desk, and as he stands up Katsuki is forced to confront the truth one feature at a time. Fluffy green curls, big green eyes, pale skin, and a faceful of freckles. Soon he’s standing up, shoulders hunched in a protectively small posture as Katsuki is forced to look at his greatest failure.
“Hi, Kacchan,” Dek- Izuku greets, flinching at the slightest sway of Katsuki’s body like he was waiting for the attack he had come to expect.
Katsuki couldn’t help it. He turned around and fled the classroom without a word.