Work Text:
Shouto likes going to work. It gives him something to do and he likes it, enough. After settling down with a full time position, after years of schooling and educational hardship– it just seems a bit mundane.
His father always pushed him to get an education in a particular field that he didn't necessarily care for.
He gets paid well, or decently at least. For the absolute tedious work and nonsense he puts up with, he doesn't get paid enough truthfully.
Still, he buckles down and comes to work. He does the long commute and works the long hours but it doesn't satisfy him. It doesn't make him tick. He doesn't feel alive.
Feeling alive is relatively ironic now since he’s dead.
━
The one saving grace from working a full twelve hours are the conversions he has with Bakugou.
“Let’s say, we just turn the orientation of the building a bit towards the main road and simply ignore the height restriction, technically we’d be done.”
“Techically,” Shouto swirls in his chair, gravitating towards the other man’s cubical, “we’d be going against the district unit plan and get fired.”
“Scowled at maybe,” Bakugou has a smirk on his face, it’s trouble, but charming at the same time, “it’s not like it's built tomorrow...”
“Sure,” Shouto has to laugh, it’s the pure ridiculousness of the situation that has him wanting to work overtime. If Bakugou were to quit, his own work ethic would need another motivational factor to stay in the office past work hours.
“It’s some bullshit that we’re here so late on a Friday night,” Bakugou starts, and although Shouto only has his empty apartment to look forward to he still nods and agrees.
It’s something about trying to be better than his colleague but in a competitive way. It just feels fun and sparks some excitement in him.
“Common,” Bakugou sighs and tries again, “Lets leave and get drinks,” but he’s clicking at the building layout and quickly running calculations. Bakugou is good at his job, despite his humorous nature.
Bakugou, adamantly, is also gorgeous. It’s hard not to look away when his only other focus is his work computer. What an annoyance. He doesn't know how he’s a natural blond at his age, doesn't that color usually get older with age?
“It’s happy hour somewhere,” Shouto has to shrug, a smile building as he transfers a file. “Say, how about we move this balcony and make it more front facing?”
“Brilliant idea,” Bakugou responds as he feels a blush fill his cheeks with the complement. Sure, they're colleagues, and maybe it’s the close proximity but something about the other man has him heated.
Still, it’s an addiction. He feels like he’s met him before. Sometimes, people just get along really well. Their personalities just work.
Because Bakugou is everything he’d like in a man but it’s not something he can actually pursue. His field is a rather selective niche profession, and unfortunately, Shouto is a bit…reluctant. Also, he’s realistic. He’s here for work not to get a man.
“Ta da~,” Shouto lets out a light laugh,, “now maybe two more hours and we’d be done with the design.”
“You’re joking if you think I'm staying here longer.”
He still does.
Shouto can barely see by the time he leaves the company office. Shouto can barely orient himself.
It’s a winter day, it’s a bit slippery and honestly he has no desire to get home that late. Bakugou’s company is addictive and sometimes, being at work is better than being alone in his studio apartment. Maybe, he should get a cat.
“You sure you don't need a ride home?” Bakugou looks a bit conflicted about leaving him.
“It's fine, I live closeby,” which is a lie but he doesn't need to know that. Shouto lives out of the way and takes the train to work but it's no big deal.
“Get home safe,” Bakugou shrugs but Shouto can tell he’s eyeing the weather with concern, “Cya on Monday?”
“Unless we have a snow day,” Shouto teases, which brings out a smile from the other man. A little lie never hurts anyone, and it’s not like he’ll make Bakugou drive out of the way.
The snow gently falls as it picks up in height amongst the sidewalk. Snowflakes are always pretty to look at. He’s tired but he’s also happy. Merit raises are upcoming and Shouto has a good idea that he’d get a promotion.
He has a good life, admittedly kinda boring, but that can change. Life is never guaranteed, everything is always changing.
So It’s not really his fault.
He just takes a wrong turn.
It is slippery outside.
The driver must've slipped on ice.
Still, Shouto feels his body crash into a speeding vehicle. It’s abrupt and makes him feel almost nothing at all.
The reports say he died upon impact.
━━━
The first thing he feels is sunlight hitting his body, it’s comforting, warm and soft. The linens touching his skin feel smooth and silky. There’s a warm buzz, like a cat’s purr. For some reason he visualizes an orange tabby..
Suddenly, the bed moves and there’s an arm wrapping around his waist. “Morning, Shouto,” it’s a soft rasp, and his body feels so comfortably at ease— he almost thinks he’s dreaming. He hasn't been held like this in a long time. He hasn't dated since university.
And, it's a familiar voice. The selection of the faceless men he’s been with do not sound like his coworker, Bakugou Katsuki.
“I know you're awake,” Bakugou’s voice almost teases as his grip on him tightens. Cause what the actual fuck is happening?
“Uhm,” whatever situation he’s in, it’s a good one. Wait. “What happened last night?”
Please don't say that Shouto got drunk, or somehow landed in bed with his colleague and doesn't even remember what happened. That would be an utter disaster.
“You mean, you came back from work and we watched that american travesty of a television show you claim is entertainment?” There’s a slight amusement in his voice, a ring of fondness and tenderness that only comes with years of time.
“Maybe,” is all he can muster. It sounds weak compared to the other man. Barely audible.
“I knew that show was rotting your brain, baby.”
The banter comes naturally, almost. It feels like second nature and partially like he’s lived this life. Or has been living this life.
He doesn't want to open his eyes, in case he musters a reality check and ends up in his lonesome apartment. God. The dishes in his sink have also been piling up… dread sets in him.
“Did you want breakfast, or should we pick it up on the way?”
The words flow with second nature, "Izuku will probably be late, so we have time,” it’s on the tip of his tongue, he knows they're going somewhere, superheroes come to mind. He’s not sure why.
Midoriya, the graphic designer from work? The question why he would be seeing him only briefly ponders his mind. Something is telling him not to question it and just continue on, that whatever he was feeling before isn't important anymore.
“So, breakfast?"
“Yes, please,” Bakugou always makes them so runny yet crisp. It’s a talent, truly.
“Of course, princess,” and the thoughts of an empty apartment have long gone out of Shouto’s mind. Only the feeling and confusion sits for a moment longer.
He stretches out his hands and yawns, the open of his eyes comes instantly after as he meets a room that’s vaguely familiar. The presence of a ring on his finger weighs him down, as spots a silver wedding band.
It’s no surprise. Him and Katsuki have been married for years now. The confusion of why he felt lonely momentarily perplexed him, but he brushes it aside.
It must've been a bad dream.