Chapter Text
Bakugou’s attitude was smoothing over bit by bit when it came to his classmates. Meaning…he yelled at them a little less. And maybe helped them out with small things. Sometimes. On rare occasions, when they were being stupid enough to need it, obviously.
And no, he did not just do this shit for free. His compensation was some damn peace and quiet. Idiots didn’t talk when he actually got them to study for once. They couldn’t talk while they were eating his food. (Really. He’d smack them if they dared to talk with their mouths full.) So yeah. He got something out of it. Not like he did it because he cared about them, or whatever.
One such rare occasion involved a certain airheaded friend - classmate - lying face down on the common room couch. Surprisingly quietly, for the human energy generator that he was. And Bakugou was not concerned, god damnit, it was just - annoying how he could hear static electricity crackle around him. That’s all it was.
That’s all it fuckin’ was.
Quarter exams had slammed Kaminari this time. It’s not as if tests were ever easy for him, but he didn’t have it in him to complain dramatically to the nearest person this Friday. Because yes, Ectoplasm had scheduled their math test for Friday. So, it was no wonder that a “Sparky, you good?” and a “Need help, bro?” were both dismissed with a feeble thumbs-up and a loopy mumble. There could’ve been a third person, but his brain was sizzled to crap, and the person wasn’t saying anything anyway. So he opted to just lie there in silence, breathing in the wonderful scent of fabric cleaner.
A distinct scoff came from above. Huh, was he hogging the couch? Why was it called ‘hogging’ anyway? Seemed kinda mean to pigs. Pigs were cute. Maybe he could get a pet pig. Probably not in the dorms, though. Aizawa wouldn’t like that. Alas.
He heard someone walk away. Or more like they stomped away. Kaminari was mildly intrigued, but only mildly. A burner sparked on shortly afterwards. Was it dinner time already? Maybe the gods would have pity on him and deposit a hot plate of dinner directly into his lap. Though maybe they wouldn’t be as merciful and drop it on top of his head, seeing as how he was still lying down and…not planning to get up.
Ughhh.
In the middle of dozing off, Kaminari’s nose was assaulted with something absurdly appetizing. His eyes snapped open, and he winced at the crick in his neck. How he managed to get such a crick despite not having been out for more than half an hour was…actually not that surprising. He turned his head to the right, carefully massaging his neck, and laid his eyes upon the source of the heavenly smell.
He didn’t see a chef to compliment, but unless Lunch Rush had personally given the 1-A dorms a visit, this was unmistakably Bakugou’s bomb-ass cooking.
Ah, that made sense. Those sounds from before could certainly be identified as Bakugou-noises.
All Might Almighty, nobody else could manage to make a hamburger patty between two slices of white bread look so freaking good. (He could imagine Bakugou internally screaming about how Sero forgot to restock the burger buns on the class’s last grocery run, but it was almost more special this way.) He could have cried from joy. He knew Bakugou cared about his friends, even though he’d never admit it in a million years, but to make a hot, home-cooked meal, just for him? With not a single insult? No slamming the plate onto an unfortunate coffee table? No slapping him awake to say ‘eat your fuckin’ food’? Maybe it wasn’t even meant for him, but there was kind of…no one else in the room, and surely Bakugou wouldn’t just leave the plate directly in front of him if it was for himself.
Did Kaminari look so bad that even Bakugou felt sorry for him?
…Was it just his frazzled brain suggesting Bakugou was genuinely looking out for him, no excuse attached?
Bakugou’s personality was maybe still a work in progress, but the way he never backed down from a challenge, the way his confidence made training seem effortless, the way he was fiercely protective of his classmates in his own roundabout way? He’d come a long way from Kaminari’s initial assessment of ‘crap mixed with flaming garbage.’ (And damn, I really did say that, that one time.) Over time, he’d noticed the smaller things, too. The cocky spark in his expression when he got an answer right, and how he subtly flustered when a teacher genuinely noted he was doing well. How he used his anger to hide a bucket of emotions you just had to dig a bit to find under all the snarls and glares. Seeing those kinds of things gave Kaminari a feeling he couldn’t put his finger on.
At some point, Kaminari had to come back to reality. It was just a hamburger. There were no ulterior motives, no extra, strange little feelings. This act simply fell under helping his classmates out with small (stupid) things. Maybe a wire crossed the wrong way in his head. That’s all it was.
Yeah, dude, that’s all it was.
Seeing Bakugou still acting like a scowling stick of dynamite the next morning confirmed that he was overthinking things. It made sense. Increased electric signals firing in the brain and all that.
Naturally, Kaminari decided to play it cool. Super cool.
“Your burgers are a masterpiece, Chef Kacchan,” he teased.
“Bakubabe,” Mina whined, “you cooked for Sparky but not me?”
“Nope! I get special treatment, of course. Right, honeybun?”
Topped off with a wink.
Yeah, really super mega-cool. What the hell, had he ever called anyone ‘honeybun’ even in his head?
“Awww, and I thought I was exclusive!”
Thank god his friends were also major idiots. The familiar chaos with Mina, including the trademark Bakugou-insult-slinging that followed shortly, did well to hide his confusing prick of embarrassment. Come on, they did this all the time. It’s not like this was the first stupid nickname Kaminari had come up with. What changed?
Usually Kaminari looked forward to Midnight’s class - this time especially since she’d said she would take it easy on them after this brutal week - but instead of listening to her, ahem, very nice lecture voice, he found himself sneaking glances at Bakugou the entire period. About five looks in, red eyes caught him back. The expression was entirely neutral, like Bakugou didn’t even register the contact, but Kaminari swore he felt a few neurons fail. How pathetic was he that all it took for a spark of butterflies was for Bakugou to not be blatantly aggressive? It took longer than it should have to reset his brain and turn back to his doodle of a baby pig art history notes. That did not happen. Definitely a hallucination, he was totally just checking the clock. Nah, I just got lost ‘cause his eyes are super pretty.
Dude.
Needless to say, if he was struggling before, it was now impossible to focus for the rest of class. When Midnight asked if he was paying attention, he responded with a lively, “Yes! No! Sorry ma’am, no I was not!” The familiar chuckles around the room, and a lopsided grin from Kirishima’s pretend-exasperation, signified he was safe. Luckily, it was well within his character for his mind to be far away during school. (Maybe lucky’s not the right word, bro, he could hear his friend tease.) But typically he’d feel more guilty about his attention issues. Right now, they were taking a back seat to the surprise at his own thoughts, and the itch of curiosity that made sure those thoughts kept coming.
Kaminari denied to himself that Bakugou was sitting closer to him during their routine Bakusquad hangouts over the next week. Surely he was just hyper focused on Bakugou after basically fantasizing about pretty red eyes and honeybuns throughout the weekend.
After all, Bakugou had always preferred to sit closest to Kirishima. So he must have been imagining it when Sero cracked a joke, and Kaminari laughed, and Bakugou looked at him first, prior to giving an emotionally constipated but subtly amused huff in Sero’s general direction. Kaminari beamed back at him, and if he tried hard enough, he could almost see sharp eyes widen the tiniest bit before he directed his attention to whatever stupid thing Mina had to say in response.
One evening, they were able to get Bakugou to stay during a “fucking lame-shit” movie because, in said teen’s words, it would get them to shut the hell up for an hour and a half. It had been about an hour since Kaminari, being Kaminari, had dared to throw out an “Awww, Kacchan, you just wanna spend time with us!” Which of course was immediately followed by a “SHUT THE FUCK UP SPARKY OR I’LL BLAST YOUR SKULL IN!” and Kaminari felt himself sleeping off on Mina’s plush bed.
When he cracked his eyes open, the room was dark, save for the glow from the bedside lamp. He slowly glanced around the dimly-lit room, vaguely aware of his static-mussed hair. Weren’t they watching a movie? No wait, where was everyone? He rustled the pink and black comforter as he sat up, pausing when he saw spiky hair, illuminated by the light from a phone screen near the floor beside the bed. Bakugou perked up at the movement, propping his elbow on a nearby heart-shaped pillow. Kaminari blinked owlishly with an “Uh?”
“Movie finished like twenty minutes ago,” Bakugou grumbled. “The other idiots ditched.”
His friend spoke quietly, considering how late it was and maybe, possibly because he knew that Kaminari had just woken up a few seconds ago, and yelling wouldn’t be very well-received. And, well, neither would talking at his normal volume, which was basically yelling.
“Oh,” Kaminari said, dumbly. “But…isn’t this Mina’s room?”
“No, I own bright pink fuckin’ tiger-stripe curtains,” Bakugou deadpanned.
Kaminari snickered at that, eliciting a quick, “Shuddup.”
“Raccoon Eyes said it was time for a ‘Girls’ Night’ with Pink-Cheeks, whatever the fuck that means,” Bakugou continued. “Dunno what the hell got her so damn giggly. Don’t wanna ask.”
He squinted a tiny bit to catch Bakugou’s face a little better and…
No way, is he pouting? He felt - a flutter of some sort in his chest.
“O-kaaay, I kinda get why I’m here, ‘cause you guys were sweet enough to not wake me up, but why are you still here, my man?” There was a twitch in Bakugou’s brow, but Kaminari couldn’t quite tell if it was from uncertainty or just frustration. But since Bakugou was never uncertain…?
“Fine, next time you fall asleep, I’m leaving you alone,” Bakugou snapped. “Maybe I’ll even lock your stupid ass in.” And there it was, the familiar grumpy energy.
Increduously, Kaminari clarified,“You’re gonna lock me in…Mina’s room?”
…He promptly burst out into laughter at his own comment.
Bakugou hmph-ed loudly, abruptly stood, and turned to the door with his signature slouch. He began to stomp towards it, and Kaminari suddenly felt the urge to call out.
“Bakubro,” he blurted. The door was thrown open, and Kaminari paused, realizing he didn’t know which joke to crack right now. So he donned his best idiot-smile and pulled out whatever was at the tip of his tongue.
“Thanks for staying, dude.”
Shockingly, Bakugou stopped at that. Hand still on the doorknob, face still turned away from him. Kaminari wasn’t going to blame him when he inevitably scoffed. I mean, what kind of comment was that? Dang, no wonder he calls me a -
“Dumbass.”
The door shut with a loud clack. Kaminari sat there for at least a minute, lips still turned up like they’d frozen on his face that way as he stared at the door. He felt…oddly pleasant.
Bakugou’s response was exactly the insult he expected. He’d said nothing out of the ordinary. Classic name-calling - it happened every day. Yet the way he said it…he could’ve said ‘Good night’ in the exact same tone and it wouldn’t be weird. Not that Bakugou would ever wish anyone such a thing as a good night - as a matter of fact, Kaminari personally recalled him once bidding farewell with a, “Shit dreams, loser,” but that was besides the point, dang it. Hearing Bakugou’s voice take on that calm air was almost soothing.
Maybe he was reading too much into this. Sure, Bakugou had chosen to not yell in this one singular conversation, but that didn’t mean anything. It was nighttime, and even someone as aggressive as Bakugou knew it wasn’t a good idea to wake up the rest of the dorms, risking the wrath of their homeroom teacher. But then again, Bakugou really could’ve left the room entirely. It was nearing 9:30, and the whole class knew it was an hour past his usual bedtime. Why didn’t he get Sero or Kirishima to sit with him? Why did anyone need to stay with him? Why on Earth did Bakugou stay?
About two hours ago, Bakugou had asked, or rather demanded to know, if anybody “needed some fucking shit” from the convenience store. Uraraka called out that they were low on mochi ice cream, and Satou politely asked if Bakugou could look for a bag of hard candy. Sero jumped in with a coffee order containing a ridiculous amount of ingredients, clearly meant to irritate him - “Make it a quadruple espresso with six pumps of caramel syrup. ten cubic centimeters of whipped cream and half of a cherry on top, my epic blasty man!” - “Piss off, Soy Sauce Face!” - and Mina deadpanned, “Super tampons.” Bakugou sighed, harshly, repeating off the serious requests. (Including the tampons. Despite the smirk on her face, they knew that girl was not joking.) After a clipped, “I’ll be back fuckin’ whenever,” Kaminari vaguely considered tagging along, just to tease him. No other reason, dude! None at all. He absolutely was not still thinking about that night in Mina’s room, where exactly nothing happened, and Bakugou was not anything other than his prickly self. Not thinking about how to draw that side out of him again while they strolled past streetlamps in the moonlight.
Kaminari’s mere existence would probably annoy the crap out of him too much to even attempt that kind of peace, anyway. It was a bit disappointing, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy the goofy relationship that he had with Bakugou. He loved it, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything. But sometimes, just sometimes, he wished that they could be - how could he describe it? Not quite more chill, like in a bro kind of way, but definitely not more serious, either.
Just…closer.
It was just his fucking luck that the one person he had to interact with on this excursion, the convenience store clerk, was a damn nutjob. Bakugou itched to set off several warning explosions as he was subjected to the extra’s freaky stares. Probably some googly-eyed fan who recognized him from the Sports Festival. (God, fuck the attention he got over his match with IcyHot. First place, his ass; they made him into a damn cheat.)
Passing through the foremost aisle, though, he suspected the leer he was getting didn’t quite scream ‘fan.’
No matter. A death glare at the innocent colorful cereal boxes and some extra-moody body language would guarantee he’d be utterly unapproachable. Should’ve been clear already, but just in case that extra wanted to tempt fate today, Bakugou was ready.
Thank god there were hamburger buns. If he had to slide a burger patty in between slices of toast again, he might throw it against the fuckin’ wall. Not that he couldn’t make it taste damn good all the same, but he knew that wasn’t what Kaminari preferred wasn’t a burger, it was a melt, and these god damn extras wouldn’t know the difference otherwise. He let out a curt sigh and grabbed a package.
The clerk didn't seem fazed when Bakugou dumped his items on the counter. Bakugou refused to give them the satisfaction of his eye contact, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes to the array of cancer sticks sitting in the glass panels behind them. In his periphery, he noted the red-violet hue of their shiny - no, greasy - bob of hair. Onion Head, he decided. Seconds of inactivity, and more importantly of not scanning his shit, passed, and Bakugou opened his mouth to ask if they were crap at their job or just incompetent at life in general, but they didn’t give him the chance.
“With a quirk like that, you could reeeeally hurt someone, couldn’t you?”
“Were you dropped on your head as a baby?”
It was late, and Bakugou was tired. Eight-thirty wouldn’t wait for him.
“You know, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you did,” they continued, ignoring him. “Hurt someone, I mean. I could give you a boost with that, y’know.”
Bakugou wanted to smack that damn grin clean off their face. What kind of interaction was this? The fuck did this guy want? Did they think he wanted help murdering some bastard?
“Fuck do I need your help for? I ain’t a villain, shitbag.”
Maybe he’d regret humoring them later, but god did they need to be knocked off their self-made pedestal.
“Oh no, a villain? Not at all,” they exclaimed, though it didn’t sound very convincing. “But we all get a little angry sometimes.”
“Yeah, like right now, fuckhead?” You gettin’ off on taking the piss outta me? - That part he kept to himself. He knew he was giving them exactly what they wanted. Fuck.
“I’m just saying, maybe being a hero full-time isn’t your path,” the nutcase dared to suggest. Then, their grin got even wider, and they tilted their head like this was the most amusing idea they’d had -
“Haven’t you ever wanted to just pound somebody into a pulp?” - Oh, this guy was deranged - “Say,” they purred, words dripping with ooze. “Hasn’t a classmate ever…”
Bakugou had heard enough. He set off bright, fizzling crackles from his palms for real this time. This bastard was not getting away with that shit.
…Even though they were getting away with that shit, because Bakugou wasn’t a complete idiot, and he wasn’t about to risk his freshly-earned provisional hero license over attacking a dumb stranger, no matter how badly they deserved it. Violent and detailed threats, though? Never off the table.
Two sentences into his incensed tirade, which included threats of ripping their hair from their scalp and strangling them with it, Onion Head pulled out a metal pen of some sort. They brought it to their mouth and puffed, releasing a smoke of a sweet scent Bakugou couldn’t place, lips curling in a smarmy sneer. Was this motherfucker vaping right in fucking front of him? “You nasty excuse of a human garbage bag,” Bakugou spat, but he quickly trailed off, suddenly feeling…funny. Not dizzy, or nauseous, or anything similarly unpleasant. An intense sensation that was simultaneously cloudy and clear, vision sharpened yet focus dulled - like his senses were enhanced, but his brain wasn’t keeping up.
“It won’t be permanent if you give in,” he heard them say, feeling like he was underwater. “Finish the job, if you know what I mean. Easy for someone as…determined as you, right?”
Time was fuzzy, from how long after they’d finished speaking to him somehow leaving the store, finding himself staring at the brick wall around the corner. He narrowed his eyes and flexed his hands, just to feel in control of himself again, but the grout between the bricks began to appear brightly polished - yet faded into the background at the same time - and after an indeterminate span of looking down, at the dark cracks in the sidewalk, to looking up, at the white, shining gibbous moon, and back down, where sprouts of weeds appeared gray in the dim path lighting, Bakugou was finally met with the tall doors of Heights Alliance.
Fourteen minutes to midnight, the door to the 1-A dorms creaked open. Loudly. The only source of light in the common room came from the kitchen, where Kaminari was so badly startled he almost dropped the entire jug of orange juice that he was definitely not about to chug. He was sure the intruder heard his very loud gasp, and, well, the light was on. Of course they knew he was here. Frozen in place, he considered the options - a villain who’d skirted UA’s top-class security alarms, or a student getting back past curfew. Both terrifying prospects. And see, because his priorities were straight, his first thought was, Bro, I don’t want to die in my pajamas.
Then the unexpected visitor rasped out a low but very clear, “Shit.”
Hold on.
Bakugou never came back from the convenience store, did he?!
He hurried out of the kitchen to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough, silhouetted near the doorway was a head of spiky hair. Kaminari swore he felt Bakugou lock eyes with him in the darkness. Immensely confused and thoroughly concerned that his friend, who was in bed at 8:30 pm every night, was apparently not only awake but outside the building at this hour with no sign of a Midoriya-induced fight, plus not seeing any grocery bags or stupidly large coffee orders, Kaminari slammed the jug of juice onto the counter and ran towards his friend.
Light flooded the room as Kaminari all but punched the light switch. Bakugou cursed a loud, “FUCK!”, slapping a hand over his eyes as Kaminari grabbed his shoulders and started checking for injuries. Or brain damage. Not that you could see brain damage. At this, Bakugou lashed out, throwing his worrying hands off, ignoring his urgent, “Bro, are you okay?” Kaminari expected a glare, a scowl, more yelling, anything, but Bakugou…wasn’t even really looking at him anymore. His line of sight was fixed somewhere below Kaminari’s actual face, and suddenly, Kaminari felt self-conscious.
“Bro, you’re not, like, concussed or something, are you…?”
…
Four extremely uncomfortable seconds passed.
And then-
“Dunce Face,” Bakugou growled, “get Aizawa.”
Kaminari almost heard undertones of fear there.
“Huh? Dude, do you know what time it is?” he pressed, still not confident Bakugou hadn’t sustained some sort of head injury. On closer inspection, his red eyes were wide, pupils minutely fluctuating in size. The alarm bells in Kaminari’s head grew louder. Before he could ask again if he was hurt, Bakugou raised his hands in a grabbing motion. It looked like he was physically restraining himself from closing any more distance between them, tensing every muscle in his arms and making…kind of a constipated face. Kaminari would’ve joked about that if he weren’t more than a little frightened at the moment. It was impossible not to be. Eyes unfocused, Bakugou spoke again, words piercing like darts.
“Kaminari. Get. Aizawa.”
Kaminari stood there for a few seconds, unsure if he should leave the other boy alone, but when he smelled the faintly sweet scent of nitroglycerin from palms that hovered too close to his neck, he backed off.
“Oh my god, dude, please don’t blow me up?”
“NOW!”
“Okay, okay, I’m gonna go back to the kitchen and get my phone,” he placated. “I’ll try calling Sensei, but I don’t know if he’s gonna pick up, man.”
Bakugou just stared at the same spot on his neck.
…Were his cheeks getting red?
“Uh, okay, I’m just gonna,” Kaminari trailed off, continuing to face Bakugou as he backed into the kitchen, as if the boy would pounce once he looked away. Eventually needing to break eye contact, he quickly reached for his phone, next to the juice where he left it, and tapped into speed dial. He hesitated, wondering if he should really be bothering their teacher while he could be on hero patrol or grading assignments or even, shockingly, sleeping. Calling was strictly for emergencies; they all knew that. He popped his head back out to check on his now spookily-quiet friend to find that Bakugou had wrapped his arms around himself, concentrating on the intriguing expanse that was the hardwood floor.
…Yeah, this looks like an emergency to me.
Kaminari hit the dial button.
…
…
Aizawa picked up on the second tone.
“Kaminari,” their teacher’s voice rang out, lightly out of breath, but clear - and with not a hint of its usual drowsy lilt. “Please tell me whatever this is, it’s urgent, and that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning.”
Crap, was he on patrol tonight? Then he was totally getting chewed out for disturbing him. It’s for Bakubro, he consoled himself. If he had to be scolded for something - which happened frequently - he’d want it to be over supporting the squad.
“Well teeeeechnically it is tomorrow morning,” he hesitantly joked…not that it would help the whole ‘it’s an emergency’ thing. “But, it’s, uh, it’s Bakugou. We’re in the common room, and he was supposed to go to the convenience store, but it’s been, like, hours, and he only got back just now.”
Aizawa hummed, prompting him to continue. Okay. He wasn’t going to hang up on him. Well, it wouldn’t be very hero-like or Aizawa-like to hang up on a concerned student, would it? Even if it was him?
“So I was already in the kitchen because I came down for orange juice because it’s totally a normal hour for orange juice,” he provided, because this part of the story was definitely important. He was kind of a little tired and a lot nervous, okay? “But anyway, uh, he told me to call you, and I don’t think he’s, like, okay? M’sorry for calling so late, but he’s spacing out really bad right now, and it’s kinda freaking me out.”
His rambling was met with a short pause. Then, “Is he injured?”
Kaminari had done a brief scan earlier - he didn’t look hurt, but this was Bakugou. A master of hiding injuries, impressively stubborn as he was.
“I didn’t actually get a chance to ask,” he settled on, “‘cause he, y’know, yelled at me and all that.”
“He’s responsive?”
“Um, he was,” Kaminari considered, “but now…”
He turned to address his friend - “Hey man, you still with me?”
Bakugou looked up.
There was a second where time seemed to stop. Glittering ruby eyes found him, looked straight into his soul, and Kaminari could do nothing but stare right back.
Then Bakugou stepped forward. Quickly.
Too quickly.
It hadn’t taken more than two seconds for him to pass the threshold and back Kaminari into the kitchen.
Kaminari squeaked in alarm as he was shoved against the fridge. Aizawa’s alarmed voice was vibrating through the receiver, but he couldn’t focus. Bakugou growled and reached for the phone. On instinct, Kaminari raised it up to escape the other’s reach.
He doubted this would have been effective even if Bakugou didn’t have two inches on him.
The phone was yanked out of his hand, and suddenly Bakugou’s face was right in front of his own, and oh my god, they were so close. He did not have a clue what was going on in Bakugou’s mind, and honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in his own mind. Regardless, he was not ready to make the greatest mistake of his life and end up with his limbs in different corners of the room.
“Please,” he murmured, barely moving his lips. “Please don’t blow me up.”
But he knew, from Bakugou’s clouded eyes, that he was pleading only to himself.
Warning sparks arced from Kaminari’s fingertips, and he felt a surge of hope when Bakugou seemed momentarily distracted, shutting his eyes tight and freezing up. The strained breaths that furiously expanded in his chest were broken by a rumbling, “You need to back off,” low and urgent. “Get out of the room,” he ordered with a wince, “I can’t-”
It looked like he was fighting with himself, and Kaminari couldn’t just -
“Bakugou, I’m not gonna - I’m not just gonna leave. Sensei’s on the line, he can, he can help, just tell me what’s wrong!”
When his outburst failed to elicit a response, Kaminari shook his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t currently pinned against the fridge. He must’ve let out a few charged pulses in the panic, because red eyes shot open in surprise. There wasn’t time to think before Bakugou leaned in, dangerously close. Kaminari knew he wouldn’t have the strength to physically wrestle him off. So for a moment, he just stood there while Bakugou grabbed at his waist and-
Bit his neck-
Kaminari grabbed his classmate’s arms and sent a single deliberate, crackling shock through his body.
Bakugou gave a horrible jolt and a strangled gasp before collapsing into Kaminari’s shaking arms.
He barely heard Aizawa announce through the line that he was on his way.