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Undressed to Impress

Summary:

“Well yeah, but there’s also the tradition.” Hanta teasingly wags his eyebrows at Katsuki, leans back in his chair and wraps an arm around Mina’s shoulder.

Katsuki knows he’s being baited. He knows that whatever Hanta wants to say is only going to add to his already stressful night; not that Katsuki would admit to anyone that he is feeling stressed. He lets out a resigned sigh before reaching across the table and stealing Eijirou’s glass of water just to watch the confused look the move brings to his friend’s face. “Fine. I’ll bite. What tradition?”

Notes:

Written for Hot Shot Zine

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Are you nervous, Kacchan?” Izuku’s fidgets with his thin, black tie, straightening it, and reclipping it even though he’s already done so twice.

“Tch, no.” Katsuki throws back the last of his champagne before setting the flute down and raking his gaze over the rest of the crowded room. “Why the hell would I be nervous?”

The drink leaves a sharp, dry feeling in the back of his mouth and if he’s being entirely honest, he’d much rather be at home working on his gauntlets and drinking a cold beer. Mei had been hounding him lately for a chance to help with his gear, but ever since the end of the war, he’d had trouble sleeping and fixing his own tech helped calm his nerves.

“No reason, except... Oh! Tenya!” Izuku stands suddenly, waving his arms in the air and beckoning their friend over.

Katsuki does his best to swallow a chuckle at the pale, blue monstrosity that is Iida Tenya’s borrowed suit. It’s much too small on his broad frame. Katsuki knows he shouldn’t laugh. It wasn’t his friend’s fault that the commission had sprung the, your presence is required notice, on most of them only two days ago.

Many of his classmates had found themselves scrambling to find some semblance of formal attire in time for tonight’s event. Hell, Katsuki had even lent out a few from his own closet to help them out – including the forest green one, Izuku is currently sporting. It’s a little tight on him in the shoulders, and a bit too loose around the waist, but the nerd makes it look halfway decent.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Kacchan. I am. Being up on stage is one thing, but being auctioned off? I know it’s for a good cause, and we’re only going to be doing things like menial housekeeping tasks and such… But it’s an honor to get the highest bid. What if no one wants you?” Izuku hurriedly sits back down, his eyes still searching the room for someone. “I don’t mean you, of course. People would be crazy not to want to bid on the number one hero…”

“Tch. You’re damn right they would.” Katsuki shifts in his chair, his thoughts still on all the talk he’d heard over the last two days.

Though this event wasn’t as big as the hero ranking ceremony or even broadcasted, it was still considered one of the most elite events in Musutafu. Only the top one hundred heroes were invited to come, and every year they raise hundreds of thousands of yen for the orphans and widows’ fund. Katsuki hadn’t had a chance to research a lot about the charity, but he’d seen the volunteers at the aftermath of some of the greatest disasters he’d faced as a hero.

“I’m nervous. I think Shouto is too, the way he’s been avoiding everyone…” Izuku mumbles on, stopping only to welcome Tenya to their table with a hug and exchange a quick greeting before sitting back down and rambling on. “Eijirou should have been up there too. Tradition is all of the top five, but…”

These days Katsuki can mostly handle the mumbling and constant chatter, but tonight he feels on edge for some reason that he can’t quite pin down. “Yeah… Ya know, Eiji must be bored over there. I should probably go say ‘hi’ or something.”

“Oh… yeah. Right, Kacchan. That’s probably a good idea…”

He doesn’t wait for Izuku to finish his rambling or for Tenya to add in his thoughts before getting up and heading over to Eijirou’s table. The redhead is surrounded by friends – Hanta, Denki, and Mina – who all cheer obnoxiously loud when Katsuki sits down at their table.

A flute of champagne is shoved into his hand and his hair is casually ruffled. He glares at Mina, who throws her hands up in surrender, and then straightens his hair before swallowing the champagne he’d been given in one long swig. How can people stand this stuff?

“Woah… drinking kinda heavy there. Eh, Kacchan?” Denki playfully elbows Eijirou. “Nervous about something?”

Denki’s joke draws another round of loud laughter from their friends, but Katsuki just sinks back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Come on, Kats.” Mina leans her head against Katsuki’s shoulder and pins him under a wide, slightly intoxicated smile. “Being up on stage. Getting auctioned off like a piece of meat–”

“It’s just for charity. Household chores and shit.” Katsuki almost wishes he hadn’t just swallowed his whole glass just so he’d have something to occupy himself with.

He’d come over here to escape talk about that stupid auction, not hear more about it. And if he’s being honest with himself, it also feels kind of shitty talking about it all in front of Eijirou. It wasn’t the redhead’s fault he’d been laid up by that asshole villain. He’s ready to say something about it when Hanta’s words cut into his thoughts.

“Well yeah, but there’s also the tradition.” Hanta teasingly wags his eyebrows at Katsuki, leans back in his chair and wraps an arm around Mina’s shoulder.

Katsuki knows he’s being baited. He knows that whatever Hanta wants to say is only going to add to his already stressful night; not that Katsuki would admit to anyone that he is feeling stressed. He lets out a resigned sigh before reaching across the table and stealing Eijirou’s glass of water just to watch the confused look the move brings to his friend’s face. “Fine. I’ll bite. What tradition?”

“Well, almost since its inception, the Heroes’ Charity Gala has a tradition where the number one hero gets the highest bid. Every single year.” Hanta steals the glass from Katsuki and gives it back to Eijirou. “I mean, if I were up there on stage – against Shouto, and Deku no less – I might be worried too.”

“Hey! What about me?” Denki purses his lips into an exaggerated pout and falls against Eijirou’s chest. “I may not have graced the top five, but I was high enough to take Eijirou’s place in his stead.”

The redhead takes the move in stride, petting blond hair and nodding in agreement. They look almost comical together, Eijirou in his well-tailored deep burgundy suit and Denki in his cheap, two-sizes-too-big monstrosity.

“Tch! ‘M not fuckin’ worried.” Katsuki’s eyes dart to the nearby table and the people who had fallen silent at his loud declaration. He shifts in his seat, making it a point to lower his voice when he speaks next. “Of course, I’ll get more bids than Icy-Hot and stupid Deku.”

“You’re not exactly – Ow! Eiji…” Mina trails off, pinning Eijirou under a sharp look while she leans over to rub her ankle.

“Not exactly what?” Katsuki narrows his eyes at Mina, but it’s Eijirou who speaks.

“You’re not– I mean…” Eijirou runs a hand along the back of his neck and sighs. “You’re intimidating, Kats. People might be a bit… hesitant to bid on you.”

“Whatever. I’m going to take a piss.” Katsuki doesn’t wait for any of them to respond before stalking off towards the restrooms.

Maybe he was a bit too loud and brash and cocky, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from rising above Shouto or Izuku. Back when they were younger, he’d told them he’d be number one and he’d done it. He’d been the first of their class to do it, despite Izuku’s heroics during the war and Shouto’s through-the-roof popularity rating. He wasn’t going to trail behind them back then and he certainly isn’t going to now. Sure, he doesn’t have the most friendly of personalities, but Endeavor didn’t either. He’d been the number one hero and still won the highest bid during his reign.

If Endeavor could do it, so can I.

He finds the restroom deserted and quiet, and Katsuki takes a moment to splash cold water on his face to try and calm his racing heart rate. He tells himself that he is most definitely not nervous, yet his palms are sweaty, and his pulse is racing like it does before a big fight. He’s still staring into his own crimson eyes when the door behind him slams open.

Katsuki turns to find Neito laughing and hanging onto Hitoshi. When the couple sees him, they straighten up. Hitoshi quickly dips into one of the stalls, but Neito saunters up to the sink next to Katsuki, undeterred by the explosive hero’s angry glare.

“Save your bark for someone who’s actually afraid of you, Katsuki.” Neito leans in close to the mirror and carefully applies his lip gloss before turning around and leaning against the sink. His eyes rake over Katsuki’s form, taking in his perfectly tailored, charcoal grey suit and burnt orange tie.

Katsuki straightens, giving him a better view and pinning him under a cocky grin. “Like what you see?”

Neito scoffs. “In your dreams.”

He seems ready to say more when Hitoshi is suddenly standing between them. “So, you ready for the show, Blasty?”

“Can it, Eye-Bags.” Katsuki bites his tongue, trying to stem the vitriol that he wants to spew their way. Tonight isn’t the night for a brawl in the bathroom and he swears that he can already see the feral gleam in Neito’s eyes. “It’s just a damn charity auction.”

“Let’s leave him to his ruminating, Hitoshi. You’re up first anyway and we both know there’s no way he’ll get more bids than Musutafu’s darling prince Shouto or cute little freckle-faced hero Deku.” Neito goes to apply his lip gloss again, but Hitoshi pulls him towards the door.

Katsuki’s hand grips the sink tightly. “Tch. I’ll get a higher bid than the rest of them combined.”

Neito’s laughter is near hysterical. “Yeah, right. You’ll be lucky if you even get past that electric idiot.”

He doesn’t get a chance to retort before the door is swinging shut. I’ll show them. Determined to be number one, he doesn’t stop and talk to anyone, not even Izuku on his way to the stage. He stands still while they adjust his already straight tie and run a lint roller over his already clean shoulders. He even lets them smudge his eye liner a bit more.

Handlers trot them all out onto the stage and line them up – Hitoshi, Denki, Shouto, Izuku, and then Katsuki. He tells himself that it’s no different than being lined up for the ranking ceremony, but if he’s being honest, he does feel like a piece of meat.

He does exactly what he’s supposed to, staying quiet when the bidding starts and ignoring the snarky smirks and pointed eyebrow raises that Neito gives him. It’s harder to ignore Eijirou’s encouraging double thumbs up from the table off to his left and the loud cheering from Hanta and Mina.

Other than his friends’ table, the whole affair is formal and muted. Boring. Next to him, Izuku is mumbling hastily learned facts about the auction and when Hitoshi’s final bid comes in at 100,000 yen, the green-haired hero begins spouting off statistics and estimations for the remaining pro heroes up for auction.

Katsuki mostly tunes him out, but when Izuku’s 200,000 yen estimate for Denki proves accurate, he can’t help himself. “Oi, Nerd. Where do you think the rest will fall?”

Izuku’s eyes light up at the challenge and he begins muttering under his breath before finally speaking. “Well, based on the trends for the last five years and factoring in popularity ratings, I’d guess Shouto will pull in about 800,000 yen and I’ll probably land somewhere around 380,000 yen. I may rank higher, but his popularity poll is through the roof.”

“And me?”

Izuku’s brow furrows at the question. He mutters a bit more before shrugging his shoulders. “Kacchan is… harder to estimate. Much like Endeavor, your popularity numbers are low. But statistics for the flame hero’s years as number one are hard to compare… He was well-established, had been a hero for many years before rising to the number one spot and… well, his bidding numbers are a bit skewed.”

“Sold!” The auctioneer’s voice rings out crystal clear across the room. “To the woman in green for 900,000. Come up and claim your hero!”

Katsuki grabs Izuku’s arm, pulling him close. “Skewed how?”

“Well… Kacchan, it’s my turn I should probably–”

“Skewed how Deku?”

Izuku looks helplessly at the auctioneer and then at Katsuki. “Todoroki Rei made the winning bids each of the years he was up here as number one hero.”

He gives an apologetic smile before tugging his arm out of Katsuki’s grip and making his way to the auctioneer. This time, Katsuki pays attention to the bidding – how it starts slow, grows frantic, and then tapers off again. The crowd shuffles around and bids, little white fans raising and falling, and people moving off toward the edge to get a drink once their limit had been passed.

Izuku’s close to the limit he’d set for himself. And when he surpasses it, Katsuki feels a small sort of pride swelling in his chest. The bidding caps out at 400,000 yen and suddenly, it’s his turn. He has only a moment to think before the auctioneer is waving him over.

She’s a petite woman with long brown hair and wide-set green eyes. He doesn’t recognize her, but her badge identifies her as Nanako. She starts the bidding like she had all the others, a simple 13,000 yen. Mei raises her fan first – no doubt she’ll use the time to hound him about his gauntlets.

There’s a slow back and forth between her and another blue-haired woman until Mei is finally outbid. The crowd gives a small cheer and Katsuki’s current bid sits at 150,000 yen. He’s feeling confident, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest and then the bidding peters out just below 200,000.

Mei sulks to the edge of the crowd where Hitoshi gives her a pat on the shoulder as she retreats toward the hors d’oeuvres. Katsuki catches Neito’s arrogant smirk and watches as the blond silently mouths, told you so, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

Katsuki is determined to be number one, no matter what, but what can he do? He scans the crowd hoping something will trigger an idea. Izuku has his cute, boyish charm going for him. Shouto has his good looks and well-curated air of mystery. Denki has his humor. Katsuki even has to admit that Hitoshi has a quiet, soft-spoken nature that makes him easily approachable.

He can’t help but wonder what he has other than his foul mouth and bad attitude. He can’t even think about what Endeavor may have had going for him, because his wife had bid on him every year – most likely out of some sense of obligation. Katsuki’s frustration builds as the bidding stalls once again just shy of 250,000 yen.

It’s only when Katsuki’s eyes fall on Eijirou and the redhead’s big, goofy grin that an idea begins to spark. His mind connects the dots quickly, and before he can question the sanity of the thought, Katsuki steps forward. If Nanako registers his movements, she doesn’t indicate it. She’s still trying her best to stimulate the bidding. Oh, I’ll stimulate something…

Katsuki starts with his tie, running the silky, burnt orange fabric through his fingers until he’s pulling it from around his neck. He winks at Mei before tossing it to her and then slips his jacket off. Something in the air seems to shift as the crowd gets wind of what he’s doing. Nanako’s still blind to Katsuki’s show, but she’s excitedly rattling off the next number – they’re up 400,000 yen already.

He tosses the custom-sewn jacket to some lady with long dark hair and the bid jumps to 500,000 yen in a single bid. Katsuki smirks down at the crowd and begins undoing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. He flexes, drawing the thin material of his shirt tight across his chest and the crowd below him loses it. Bids start flying and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s surpassed Shouto’s high bid of 900,000.

What was once a quiet, reserved event is now filled with whooping and hollering – most of it coming from Mina, Hanta, and Eijirou. Katsuki scans the room. Even Denki and Izuku are cheering him on, and he finally feels like himself again. “Oh, come on Musutafu! Is that all you got?”

“Mr. Bakugou…” Nanako lowers the microphone and pins him under a stern gaze. “This is a charity function and–”

“And I’m about to break the record for highest bid ever recorded.” Katsuki winks at her before grabbing her hand and using it to bring the microphone to his lips. He pins the room under a cocky, self-assured grin. “Two million yen and I’ll do the chores for you, shirtless.”

Nanako is still staring up at Katsuki with a dumbfounded look on her face when the room erupts around them. He drops her wrist and turns to the bidders closest to the stage. He drags his fingers up the front of his shirt and teases open the top button, then the second. He can hear the bidding start to skyrocket – one point five million, one point seven-five – and his confidence soars. So much for their formal, black-tie affair… He has the room eating out of his hand and he doesn’t even bother to wait for them to hit the goal before stripping his shirt off and throwing it into the bidding crowd.

Katsuki takes a move out of Eijirou’s playbook, flexing his arms, and the crowd goes wild again. Nearly every gaze is raking over the tanned expanse of his broad chest, the hard plane of his abs, and every mind is thinking about what lies just below his charcoal grey dress slacks. Nanako is fielding bid after bid until Katsuki finally hears those magic words…

“Sold! For two million yen!”

He fixes his gaze on the old lady who’d placed the winning bid. He doesn’t bother seeking out his lost tie or coat. He’s pretty sure he’ll never get his shirt back either, but he doesn’t care. He’d met his goal, securing his number one spot, and raking in more than all four of the others combined. Katsuki hops off the stage and scoops the woman up into his arms.

She giggles like a schoolgirl and wraps her arms around his neck. He struts through the crowd, letting Denki and Izuku both clap him on the back as he goes. He gets a small, approving smile from Hitoshi and then shoulders past Neito.

“Told you so.”

Notes:

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