Katsuki is beyond annoyed when he receives the official telegram. He doesn't need some random Omega, especially not the aloof, half-and-half bastard, whose scent is always suppressed anyway to be his partner in anything.

"This is ridiculous."Katsuki snaps in the debriefing room the following day."You expect me to drop everything to go cuddle up with Icy-Hot just because his clock went off?" Todoroki, whose expression is perpetually somewhere between a stone wall and a block of ice merely shrugs.

"It's a formality, Bakugou." Todoroki says flatly. "I accepted the arrangement because the agency threatened to dock my salary if I didn't. I assure you that you do not need to trouble yourself."

"Trouble myself?"Katsuki bristles."What? You think I wanna avoid responsibility? I do what needs to be done. What's that supposed to mean?" "It means you don't need to do anything. Not a single thing. I take care of myself during my heats." Todoroki says softly, with detachment.

Katsuki should be happy, right? Less drama for him. Less hassle. He should be happy, but the cool self-assured dismissiveness with which Todoroki says he doesn't need him, doesn't need any Alphas in fact, slices through his pride.

That animal, primal part of Katsuki that is all Alpha is offended. An Omega telling him he is unnecessary? An Omega taking care of himself during heats? What is Todoroki even on about?

The first day of the heat arrives with a subtle, yet unmistakable, shift in the atmosphere of the temporary safe-house they've been relocated to. Katsuki is working out in his room, trying to hit an appropriate level of exhaustion before bed when the scent hits him.

It's a raw, concentrated burst of need and musk that demands his attention, has that animal part of him roar to full wakefulness. His mouth fills with saliva so quickly he dribbles down his chin. It's fucking embarrassing. For a long moment he just stands there. Taking it in.

Todoroki's unsuppressed scent fills his nostrils for the very first time and Katsuki is fucking dizzy with it. He's always been so careful and diligent about it Katsuki realizes he'd completely tuned out the fact that Todoroki was even an Omega up until he received the telegram.

The telegram which very clearly stated that Todoroki was scheduled in to take his first heat in years, that the renewal request for his suppressants has been denied on account of him skipping all his previous heat cycles.

So for the sake of his health the agency has scheduled him in for a non-negotiable leave. Come to think of it, Katsuki can't ever recall Todoroki taking leave for a heat. Like ever.

The half-and-half bastard has been on suppressants and wearing scent patches for as long as Katsuki can remember. And thank fucking God.

Thank fucking God because if Todoroki had not been supressing his scent for years, Katsuki realizes, he wouldn't have been able to do his fucking job around him or focus on anything beyond how much he wants to pin him down and lick every single square inch of his skin.

Todoroki Shouto smells like home. Like sugar and cinnamon and honey. Like something warm and sweet and meant to be devoured and savoured and fuck, Katsuki is only human. It's not like he asked for any of this. It's not like they weren't paired for a reason.

It's not like he will just shirk his responsibilities as a hero, bureaucratic garbage or not. Katsuki marches towards Todoroki's bedroom, almost in a daze, already preparing a speech about how stupid it is to power through something that clearly requires assistance.

Come to think he hadn't even asked for any items of Katsuki's for his nest. Did he not like his scent? He knocks on the door a little too hard, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, already half hard, progressively growing harder,-

just with the way Todoroki's scent is stronger now, more saturated, even through the door. There is no answer, he motions to bang his fist against the door again when a muffled voice comes from inside. "Yes, Bakugou?" "You're not going to open the door?"

"You think that would be a good idea?" "I just wanna talk." Katsuki raises an eyebrow, tries to tone down the words that nearly come out as a growl. "I'm not a wild animal, you know. I can control myself."

There is a moment of silence, a moment in which Katsuki tries to even out his own breathing, a moment in which he has to gulp down the saliva that pools relentlessly in his mouth like a slobbering dog.

"Fine." Todoroki finally says but the door remains closed. "Come in." Katsuki hesitates for barely a second before he opens the door with a little bit too much force only to stop dead in his tracks.

The potent, cloying sweetness of Todoroki's scent hits him in the face like a ton of bricks.He's fairly sure he whimpers before he manages to curb the sound. His hands clench into white knuckled fists, teeth grinding together so hard he's fairly sure Todoroki can fucking hear it.

His chest heaves once, twice as he forces control over himself, trying to focus on his surroundings and not on the way the blood in his whole body migrates so quickly and painfully to his cock his vision blacks out for a second.

The first thing he notices is that there's no nest. No mountain of soft blankets or pillows, no scent-soaked comfort items. There is only the cold, bare surface of the tatami mats next to the simple, unused, still perfectly made bed. And then there's Todoroki.

Todoroki who's kneeling on the floor, perfectly upright, wearing only a pair of athletic shorts and a loose, white t-shirt. The clothing does little to conceal the fine tremors running through his limbs.

His eyes are closed, breathing shallow but deliberate, measured, like he's meditating through an exercise. Katsuki's gaze drops, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Todoroki's thighs are pressed together with violent, locked intensity, knees tucked neatly under him.

The air is thick, heavy with the scent of his slick and Katsuki can see the unmistakable, glistening, wet shine of it coating the pale, delicate skin where his thighs meet. Heat is very clearly rippling through him but Todoroki is not touching himself.

He's not crying or whimpering, of begging or scratching at his own skin. He's just sitting there, utterly still, like the perfect picture of discipline and endurance. "What the fuck?"

"You wanted to talk." He whispers and there is the slightest waver to his voice, like speaking is interfering with whatever breathing exercise he's doing. "Talk." "You've no nest. Where's-" "I don't need it." "But-" "Next question."

"Are you for fucking real, Todoroki?" "That's your next question?" Katsuki growls, low and gurgling and steps in closer and that's when Todoroki opens a single, vibrant blue eye, white eyelashes fluttering.

His hands twitch in his lap and he clasps them tighter together, knuckles white as he licks his lips, readjusts his weight. Fresh spill of slick stains the already dark fabric of his shorts and he merely presses his thighs tighter together, muscles straining chest softly heaving.