This internship was shit.

Complete and utter shit.

If he didn't think Aizawa would expel him on the spot, Katsuki would pack his bags and be halfway back to Musustafu by now. Fuck, he'd walk back if necessary.

It's been three days and as far as Katsuki was concerned, Best Jeanist ranked just below Endeavor and his bitch of a mother.

Simply put, the bastard criticizes everything.

The man always had something to say about his appearance, his posture, his behavior. Katsuki's pretty certain there's a list somewhere on the fucker's phone on everything Katsuki was doing wrong, and what needed to be worked on. Like he was some sort of pet project for work.

It made him furious, how Best Jeanist was all over him like a bee swarming around honey, desperately attempting to fix what was definitely not broken.

And the jeans!

Dear god, he'd never look at a piece of apparel made out of denim the same way ever again. Within the first two days of the internship, Katsuki vowed to himself to grab every article of clothing he had that was made of denim, drag it to the backyard, make a neat little pile with, preferably, a little idol of Best Jeanist on top of it, and set it on fucking fire.

Maybe even roast some marshmallows over it.

How Best Jeanist tried to fuse his costume with his own style is enough to make Katsuki want to vomit. His pants, grenadier bracers and mask were all left rotting in the suitcase; the only thing he'd been able to save from the Pro-Hero's rampage.

His hair was amongst one of the casualties.

At the reminder Katsuki rumbles low in his throat, feeling every single strand of his slicked down hair like they weighed tons. Best Jeanist had poured gallons' worth of products on his head in an attempt to crush the resistance of his naturally spiky and fluffy hair, leaving him with that felt like a wet mop on top of his skull.

The cosmetics products' smell was so strong it almost overpowered the constant sweet scent of nitroglycerin that clung to Katsuki's body like a second skin as a result of his Quirk. The last nail in the coffin for Katsuki's dignity was how his hair would randomly puff back up as the slight amounts of nitroglycerin he sweat out from the top of his head went off.

It made for a comical sight apparently, if the snickers of Best Jeanist' staff was anything to go by.

As it turns out, this internship was a learning experience.

A learning experience in goddamn self restraint.

Eraserhead was going to be fucking confused when they got back, Katsuki thinks sourly. After this hell on earth, he'd probably be able to sit through the worst of Deku's mumbling sessions without screaming at the dumb nerd even once. He was going to breathe self control and zen and all the other shit, because this week was a walk through hell with a capital h.

It's not that Best Jeanist was the worst thing alive and reason enough that their ancestors should have crawled back into the sea -that crown still belonged to the old man- but he was a close second.

At least the man was professional to a point.

Though, maybe even too much.

The matching clothes all of his sidekicks and himself were contractually obligated to wear was kudos point to his determination to maintain unity and decorum, but it also was added drops of water to the already nearly spilling cup that was Katsuki's will to live.

At this point, it was a very tiny teacup.

There were some ups, though.

Jeanist's Quirk, for example.

At first glance Best Jeanist's Quirk wasn't incredible; by the time you glance however the man would probably already have you strung up to a light post by your underwear and be in the process of calling the detainment units. It was clear that the hero had perfected the ins and out of his Quirk, to the point it was kind of impossible to fight against him as long as you had clothes.

...he had to wonder if someone ever came after Jeanist naked. It seemed like a viable although dehumanizing strategy.

Katsuki was almost tempted to ask, but under the disgustingly gelled hair and the suffocating jeans he still had some ounce of dignity so instead, he kept his mouth well shut.

That didn't mean he didn't make his displeasure known in other ways.

The first and last time Best Jeanist sent him to fetch him a coffee, Katsuki had the beautiful opportunity to see the man's normally ever patient expression twist slightly in a grimace, betraying his horror upon taking his first sip of the lethal concoction Katsuki had brought upon his tongue.

To be fair, the salt and sugar containers in the break room were really similar.

"Anything wrong?" Katsuki asked innocently as he sat down at his own desk by the sidekicks, taking the small pile of reports Best Jeanist had tasked him with filling out and studying to have an idea of how patrol encounters were handled and registered.

He knew he was pushing it. Any time Best Jeanist could boot him out and leave his dumb ass to explain to Aizawa why exacly he'd been let go a few days early from what was supposed to be a week long internship. Katsuki could see the writing on the wall for that one.

But seeing Best Jeanist trying not to choke on the abomination he'd just put in his mouth did things to Katsuki. It tickled that pretty little vicious monster in Katsuki's heart.

This must be what joy feels like.

Best Jeanist lets out one last cough and set the coffee mug down on his desk -as far away as his long arms could reach.

"It's nothing." The man says tightly, eyes staring at the cup warily. "Continue your work, Bakugo." He adds after a pause, looking back at his papers. Never once he met Katsuki's interested eyes.

That was the last time Best Jeanist sent him to make him coffee.

.

.

.

It was nighttime during their third patrol of the day when an audible vibration coming from his pants pocket gave him pause.

Making sure Best Jeanist was busy with the crowd of adoring civilians that swarmed him after stopping a thief, Katsuki stealthily reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He was pretty much being ignored by the crowd -more like avoided like he stank something horrible, but that was just a detail- so it took only a little wiggling to step out of the crowd and take a breather.

What he sees displayed on the screen was the last thing he was expecting.

Midoriya Izuku has tagged his location!

Deku? He thinks, frowning. The fucker never messages me.

The only reason he even had the nerd's phone number was because of a school trip back in middle school where the teacher had made them all exchange numbers in case of an emergency. He'd trashed all of his classmates' a few days after that trip, though something had convinced him not to do the same to Deku's number.

...was this a mass message?

Wait, what was Deku doing in Hosu?

Internship. Had to be.

From what he'd overheard, Deku was doing his internship with some old retired hero. But because he knew Deku, it was probable that the younger teen had attracted the worst kind of attention or got himself into a mess that of equals to the USJ incident.

Or maybe he got himself stuck in a closet or something.

Katsuki knew he was being optimistic with that last one. Especially given whom he was thinking about. Deku was the kind of idiot who ran in without a plan to stick the landing. The fact he hadn't broken every last of his bones during the Festival Race with that mine explosive stunt was proof of that.

If that wasn't proof enough of his craziness, you could look at the USJ incident. Katsuki had no idea what would have happened if he didn't blast the warp-villain when Deku went charging in to save All Might, of all people, but he's certain he doesn't want to know.

Or if that still wasn't enough, the Slime Villain was another example of how Deku was contender of the Darwin Awards. Fuck, the kid didn't even have his Quirk yet and he'd ran into a fire to try and save Katsuki.

Even now he's torn between disgust at having to be rescued, horror that it was a Quirkless idiot like Deku, and begrudging respect for Deku's inability to give a fuck about just how stacked the odds were against him.

..honestly, Katsuki is kind of impressed that the dumbass lasted this long.

Still, as he looked down at his phone -at that tiny little pop up message, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.

You better not fucking die, dumbass.

.

.

.

Something was wrong.

Best Jeanist cut their patrol early halfway through it to lock himself in his office. Katsuki had no idea what the man was working on, but the lack of response and the sidekicks' befuddlement around him was enough of an answer that something wasn't quite right.

"Is the Commission calling him?" He overhears one of the sidekicks mutter to the secretary with the ghastly slicked down brown hair.

"He's not…" There's more audible shuffling as she ducks down to look at her drawers. "N-not as far as I know…?" Her head pops back from under the desk, her brown curls bouncing from the brisk movement. Her brows were furrowed in befuddlement. "There's nothing scheduled for him now…?"

Slam!

Katsuki jumps up slightly at the harsh sound, he turns in time to see the same sidekick who brought him over from the station come in flailing his arms like a maniac.

"Tsuma! Turn on the television, now! Channel five!" Bad Hair Day exclaimed in an urgent voice. "Something's going down in Hosu!"

Hosu?

Wait.

Katsuki feels his heart make an uncomfortable lurch. Deku's phone had pinged him from that fucking city -the same city the Hero Killer recently struck.

Fuck.

The secretary -Tsuma, apparently- scrambles for something on her desk. Moments later the television suspended over their heads by the break area turns on.

What Katsuki sees is a warzone.

Holy shit, he thought as he watches overhead footage of massive, strangely familiar creatures with empty eyes and exposed brains swatting away heroes like they were flies.

It's unmistakable what those things are.

The largest of the Nomu-like creatures was a hulking thing made of bulging muscles straining under black skin and red marks. It's brain covered most of its face, leaving no place for eyes or a nose. It bore no lips either, just large square white teeth that gave it an underbite and further made it look like a Frankenstein monster rather than a human being.

The amount of smoke made it hard to see what was going on; the heroes on the ground were struggling to see, fighting against the environment as carelessly as they were trying to drive off the monsters.

Then Endeavor rushed out of the smoke like a nightmare taking shape, landing a sickening punch to the largest creature's side that send it skitting backwards, arm horribly twisted out of place. One of the sidekicks whooped at the sudden blaze of blue and the Nomu's ensuing collapse.

Katsuki just felt sickened.

The nausea turned into something cold when he sees his father grab the Nomu by the skull and incinerate the head into fine ash, blue flames swirling around his hands.

The nausea crawls up and down his throat. He has to actively fight the urge to throw up.

Endeavor disappears again in between the smoke and fires, the fierce orange-red of Hellfire nearly matching the color of the flames around him. The camera tries to keep track of him, but there was just too much chaos and smoke to track the Number Two Hero.

Katsuki stares emptily at the television emptily. The members of Best Jeanist's agency were practically hanging at the edge of their seat, cheerfully talking amongst themselves about how easily Endeavor had dispatched the villain. He can barely hear them over the static in his head.

...wait, wasn't Todoroki interning with the bastard?

Any previous emotion or train of thought was suddenly wiped away.

That meant he's in Hosu.

Where the Hero Killer is.

.

.

.

When he spots on the television a clip of Todoroki, Glasses and Deku limping into an ambulance while the Hero Killer is dragged into another, Katsuki feels himself deflate like a balloon.

Something familiar and liberating floods him, an emotion he recognizes but given the situation promptly tosses into the darkest corners of his mind.

Like hell he was relieved.

.

.

.

First thing he did once he was alone was call up Todoroki.

Fucker better be alive, he thinks sourly as he stabs the numbers into his phone and put it next to his left ear. Otherwise I'm gonna dig his shitty ass corpse out of his grave and hanging it as a banner over the Yuuei gate.

The wait while the phone rings is almost painful. He shifts where he sits on his hotel bed, fighting back the urge to fidget. Seconds pass by, too long and too quiet, the stringent sound of the phone's ringing grating at his ears until-

"Hello?"

Oh look, Katsuki immediately thinks, his heart jolting at the sound of that tired but familiar voice. I won't be jailed for grave desecration. Truly a blessed day.

"What the fuck happened." He bites out instead of the much more explicit insults burning at the tip of his tongue.

There's a pause. "I got into a fight with the Hero Killer." Todoroki finally breathes out with that familiar flatness. There was something different though. For once, he sounded exhausted. No, weary. More so he'd ever heard the half and half bastard be. "It was challenging. Nearly lost my left arm."

Katsuki chokes on his spit. It might have been heard through the phone, for he hears his half brother asking in alarm:

"Bakugo? Are you alright?" Todoroki almost sounded worried. Katsuki ignored it in favor of hissing into the phone like an aggravated snake.

"-what do you mean that you nearly lost your left arm?"

"The villain tried to amputate it to keep me from using Hellfire. Iida stopped him."

"Thank fuck." He blinks, realizing what he'd said. What the fuck. Scrambling, Katsuki says evenly. "-that would have been a bitch and a half for Yuuei to address."

Todoroki doesn't seem to pick up on this falter. He hums. "...yes, it would have." There's a pause. "I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to have said any of this to you."

Katsuki frowns up at the ceiling. "How so?"

"The police chief told me not to."

If he wasn't lying down, he would have fallen over. Katsuki jerks up to sit on the bed, heart jolting in his chest. "Wait, what?!" He yells out, loud enough that his neighbor bangs once on the wall. "The Hosu police chief? The fuck, Todoroki? Aren't you breaking the law telling me?"

"Yes."

The bluntness of the response nearly has him in hysterics.

Oh my god, you fucking disaster. How the hell did you make it to fourteen?

The question, for once, lacked the furious bite he's expecting in his head. It's an uncomfortable feeling.

Must be the exhaustion. These past few days with Jeanist were hell on earth.

Yeah, that.

He must have been silent for too long according to Todoroki's taste, for the next thing he hears is a soft, questioning call of his name. "Bakugo?"

"Just." Katsuki breathes out through clenched teeth. "...don't be a dumbass, idiot."

He hears his younger brother let out a low chuckle. It doesn't grate on his nerves as much as it should.

"Alright. Can I go to sleep now?"

Katsuki can only huff hauntily and end the call.

Fucking lunatic.

Hosu Police Chief: You can't say anything to anyone.

Todoroki: Okay.

Todoroki:

Todoroki: Yo brother I nearly lost an arm today

The amount of fucks this guy has I swear.

Next chapter is a Todoroki POV! Midoriya gets a moment to shine too :D