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The walls in the UA dorms were thin. Ridiculously fucking thin.
Since moving into the dorms several months ago, one of the most frequent complaints about the housing arrangements was the laughably thin walls. The only thing people complained about even more than the walls was Mineta, which was understandable considering that Mineta was, well, Mineta.
Way back at the beginning of the term, after they had first moved into the dorms, Tokoyami, who everyone knew highly valued peace and quiet after class by lounging around in the darkness of his aggressively Hot Topic-esque room, had been the first to complain about the thickness of the walls. Or rather the lack thereof.
Sitting at one of the kitchen tables, grumbling into his morning coffee about his new neighbor's insufferable morning routine, he had made his disdain for the thin walls abundantly clear. Apparently, Aoyama liked to belt out Lady Gaga and Kesha first thing in the morning while he applied his face masks and admired himself in the mirror.
And while Tokoyami may not have had a particular aversion to either singer — and really, how could he not love them? — being woken up at the crack of dawn by a painfully off-key rendition of Tik Tok every single morning was enough to make him despise them.
Midoriya, whose room flanked Aoyama's on the other side, knew the feeling all too well. He had concurred with Tokoyami's complaints, the two of them sharing a tired glance.
Similarly, a few weeks later, Uraraka had claimed a seat on one of the couches in the common room and promptly thrown her head back to let out a groan. After holding the note long enough to have made Present Mic proud, she had explained the reason for her grumpy outburst.
She had dutifully reported that Ashido had a bad habit of playing her own music too loudly in the middle of the night, including school nights, constantly keeping her awake. Which was rather impressive considering there were two unoccupied rooms between their own.
Ashido had strolled into the room a few minutes later, looking perfectly well rested as she stretched her arms over her head and cheerfully greeted everyone. She had unabashedly admitted to enjoying dancing to her favorite EDM playlists in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, bemoaning her occasional bouts of insomnia.
She had been apologetic but she wasn't willing to completely give up her late-night hobby just because her floormate was an extremely light sleeper.
Hagakure didn't seem to have the same issue with her own floormate, Jiro, who practiced playing her guitar and drums (and keyboard and bass and every other instrument she owned) every weekend. The invisible girl was actually rather fond of it, likening it to having her own private live performance while she studied.
Jiro herself didn't have any complaints whatsoever about Hagakure. She was almost as quiet as she was invisible, not that Jiro would ever say that to Hagakure's face.
Yaoyorozu and Tsuyu, who shared a floor, were both rather quiet so there was no real conflict. Aside from the one night when Tsuyu, while watching a scary movie, had let out an uncharacteristically loud ribbit that had startled Yaoyorozu so much she had spilled her Harrods tea all over all over her notes.
It was a good thing she had laminated them the week before. Just in case.
But while there were only a few instances of tension amongst the girls, the boys' side of the building produced a plethora of additional complaints. No surprise there.
Iida had quite predictably come forward with the second complaint, barely two days into their second week living in the dorms. Cherishing silence for his long afternoons spent studying and reading ahead in the textbook then studying what he had just read, he wasn't too happy to be roomed next to one of the louder, more rowdy students in class.
Kaminari hadn't meant to make a nuisance of himself yet he ended up plaguing their class rep with noise anytime he invited his friends to his room for a night of video games or movies, both replete with an excessive amount of violence and explosions. His tendency to stay up late binge watching Vine compilations and laughing like an electrokinetic hyena didn't exactly help either.
Poor Iida was going to have gray hairs before he was twenty at this rate. Ojiro and Koda seemed to sympathize, both of them — mainly Ojiro while Koda signed — bemoaned the fact that their rooms had been pre-assigned.
And Mr. Aizawa refused to let them switch. It was too much paperwork when he could be using the time to do more important things like nap or pet stray cats.
Todoroki wasn't fairing too well, either. With his room sandwiched between Sato's and Sero's, he was constantly subjected to overhearing reruns of cooking and baking shows and listening to the game nights Sero hosted at least once a week, sometimes more.
And Midoriya, who already had to deal with Aoyama's impromptu little performances, had also complained about his other neighbor, Mineta. Looking traumatized, he had groused about the horrible, not safe for work noises he had heard from the creepy teen's room.
As expected, as everyone tried to acclimate to living in close quarters that seemed even closer due to the absurdly thin walls, familiarity started to breed contempt. Eventually, weeks of sleep deprivation and the worst cover of Bad Romance to ever be performed had resulted in most of the class at each other's throats.
And, as expected by those with enough common sense to see it coming — aka Bakugo — it was none other than the shitty haired boy wonder otherwise known as Kirishima who had managed to keep everyone from killing each other. All it had taken was a delicious barbecue, a movie marathon in the common room, and a bonding exercise in which everyone hugged out their frustrations.
But as much as Kirishima's weekend of Fun and Forgiveness™, as Raccoon Eyes had dubbed it, had helped keep casualties to a bare minimum, it hadn't fixed the actual issue of the thin walls.
For the first six months or so, it hadn't even bothered Bakugo. Not once.
Both of his floormates, Kirishima and Tentacle Arms, were both pretty quiet, Kirishima less so but still rather considerate about his neighbors. Even in the middle of the night if one of them got out of bed for a midnight snack or quick trip to the bathroom, they were as quiet as possible, practically tiptoeing through the halls.
The loudest he had ever heard them was when Kirishima squeezed in a few rounds with his punching bag or invited his friends over to hang out for a bit and Bakugo was usually one of those invited. And if he ever decided to get any louder, Bakugo would just kill him, simple as that.
But right now he would have given anything for the walls to be just a little bit thicker. He was being driven absolutely fucking crazy because all he could hear was Kirishima having sex next door.
It was Saturday afternoon, the sun hanging low in the darkening sky, which meant that Kirishima had just returned to his dorm room after his weekly training match with class 1-B's resident Tin Man. Bakugo had heard them return about fifteen minutes ago, Kirishima's deep laugh announcing his presence as he recounted some story about one of Kaminari's more memorable short-circuited rants.
Kirishima had started training with the knockoff Colossus a month or so prior in addition to jogging and sparring with Bakugo in the morning, wanting to supplement his weekend workout routine. Bakugo had just grunted and asked Kirishima why the hell he was telling him when the redhead had first told him, shrugging it off and going back to eating his lunch.
Since then, it had become a regular thing. Kirishima would finish up his jog with Bakugo after they sparred, eat a quick lunch with him, then hurry across campus to meet up with his new workout buddy. They would train together for a couple hours before calling it a day, Kirishima retiring to either his own room or Bakugo's to squeeze in some studying.
Of course, Kirishima usually ended up spending what was supposed to be study time filling Bakugo in on what had happened during his extra training. Even though he was seriously getting sick of hearing Kirishima talk about 'Tetsu this' and 'Tetsu that', Bakugo didn't really mind it that much, always listening to Kirishima's stories.
At least that was until Kirishima started bringing Metal Head back to his dorm to hang out after their workout sessions, totally blowing off both Bakugo and his studies. Then Bakugo started to care because it was just fucking rude.
Though, again, Bakugo was fine with it. Begrudgingly so. He figured it was probably good for Kirishima to hang out and train with other people to keep him from getting complacent and lowering his defenses, figured it was good for his hero training.
But Bakugo stopped being cool with it when the noises started.
The first time it had happened, Bakugo had been lying in bed, grumbling to himself and angrily flipping through some shitty book he'd randomly grabbed off of his bookshelf after Kirishima had waltzed upstairs with his new best buddy to tell Bakugo he had to cancel their study date. Not that it was actually a date or something Bakugo actually cared about and looked forward to.
Naturally, the book he had grabbed was some stupid Crimson Riot biography Kirishima had talked him into buying the last time they'd gone to the mall during break. Kirishima had gone on and on about how much of a good idea it was to be well read on multiple heroes, how it would help with future strategy necessary to become the number one hero.
Bakugo had caved at that. And Kirishima's ridiculously effective puppy dog eyes.
He had been reading a chapter about Crimson Riot's early career during which a moment of hesitation resulted in the tragic death of civilians, when the giggling had started. Bakugo had lowered the book to his chest, glaring at the wall he shared with Kirishima.
The giggling had continued, two distinct laughs sounding through the wall. He had immediately recognized one as Kirishima's, the sound intimately familiar after all the times Bakugo had heard it, either in class or while training.
The other laugh was deeper and foreign, gruff and annoyingly loud. Clearly Metal Head's.
Bakugo had rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his book, skimming down the page to find his place. He was halfway through the next page when the giggling got even louder.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he had raised his fist to bang on the wall, having every intention of yelling at the two blockheads next door to shut the hell up. But before he could, he had heard Kirishima ask, "You sure you wanna?"
It wasn't what Kirishima said that gave Bakugo pause, it was how exactly he'd said it. He sounded hesitant, almost shy, like he was blushing and biting his lip as he asked.
It was weird. Kirishima wasn't shy. The only time Bakugo had ever heard him get all soft-spoken was when he was voicing his insecurities aloud. Or mooning over people he found attractive like whenever he practically drooled over Crimson Riot.
Bakugo had immediately frozen. Did Shitty Hair have a thing for Metal Head? Shit, did they have a thing going on?
His suspicions had only intensified when he heard Metal Head's answer. Voice smooth and cajoling, clearly flirtatious, he had confirmed, "Yeah, bro. I'm really good at it. Wanna see for yourself?"
It was such a dumb, cliche line that Bakugo had scoffed to himself, shaking his head. No one could possibly go for such a cheap sentiment.
At least that was what he thought until Kirishima had answered. Sounding just as ridiculously eager as ever, he had enthusiastically agreed, "Yeah, man!"
Of fucking course Kirishima would fall hook line and sinker for a cheesy line like that. Fucking hair for brains.
Bakugo had just rolled his eyes and refocused on his book, rereading the page while grinding his teeth. He was finally getting to the meat of the chapter when he was quite rudely interrupted by the sound of Kirishima moaning.
Beyond startled, Bakugo had jolted upright in bed, fumbling with his book. It somehow wound up across the room on the floor, his place lost.
The tips of his ears had burned as he stared incredulously at the wall, a wave of heat crawling up the back of his neck. At first, he thought he might have been imagining things but then he heard another loud, drawn-out moan.
It had continued on from there, becoming a new routine. Every Saturday afternoon, Kirishima would finish training with Metal Head then invite him back to his dorm room for another workout.
Which was fine. It wasn't like Bakugo gave a shit about who Kirishima fucked.
Except that he did. Because he had a big, fat, embarrassing crush on the shitty haired ball of fucking sunshine.
He couldn't quite pinpoint when he had first developed his attraction to Kirishima, not that it really mattered. Though he suspected that it had been around the Sports Festival when Kirishima had refused to put up with his bullshit then given a run for his money during their match.
But it might have happened even earlier, during the incident at the USJ. When they had taken down dozens of low-level villains together, working together better than Bakugo ever had with anyone else.
As for when he realized that he liked Kirishima? He remembered that crystal clear.
Ironically, it had been a Saturday afternoon, before Kirishima had started training with the 1-B extra. They had been studying in Bakugo's room, sitting cross-legged on his bed in their pajamas as they went over the statistics problems Kirishima had been having trouble with.
Bakugo had been explaining how to do simple linear regression for the third time within twenty minutes, pointing at the notebook in Kirishima's lap with his pencil, trying to demonstrate that it really wasn't that fucking difficult. Then he had looked up at the other boy.
He had been chewing on the end of his pen (and really, who used a pen for math problems, especially when they knew how shitty they were at it?) while frowning down at his notebook. His ridiculous pointy shark teeth had been on full display as he hummed thoughtfully to himself.
His eyes had been narrowed in concentration as he squinted down at the problem he was working on, a slight frown on his face. His hair had been a bit messy, a few rebellious strands escaping the bonds of his industrial strength hair gel to frame his face.
All Bakugo had been able to think about in that moment was how much he wanted to kiss him.
He hadn't, too shocked by the sudden realization to act on it. Then Kirishima had started hanging out with Metal Head and just like that, Saturdays had become the bane of Bakugo's existence.
And there wasn't much he could do about it. As much as he wanted to storm out of his room and spend a few hours away from the sound of his stupid crush fucking someone else, he knew it would raise eyebrows.
Everyone knew that he liked to spend his Saturday afternoons in his room, never deviating from his pattern even once. If he went downstairs, even if it was just for a quick snack, he would instantly be bombarded with all kinds of questions from people who didn't have the self-preservation skills to know not to bother him.
And it wasn't like he could just tell everyone that Kirishima and Metal Head were banging. It wasn't any of his or anyone else's business.
So, Bakugo subjected himself to the torture of the criminally thin walls. That wasn't to say he hadn't taken a few steps to make it more bearable for himself.
He had rearranged his room, switching the placement of his bed and his desk to put as much space between himself and the thin ass wall as possible. It took a bit of getting used to at first but it was worth it.
Just like the pair of headphones he had bought online that Amazon had assured him were as close to completely soundproof as anything. He had made a playlist on his phone of the loudest music he could find to go with the headphones, eloquently labeling it 'Fuck Everything'.
But nothing worked. Because of course it didn't fucking work. Fuck his life.
He was listening to some loud, angry song about whatever the hell the lead singer was pissed off about while boring a hole in the ceiling with his glare because he could still fucking hear Kirishima moaning. By the sound of it, Kirishima's little metal fuck buddy was a fucking sex god. Wonderful.
Bakugo had been staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, his anger mounting with every second that went by. He had been doing homework earlier, immediately abandoning his essay the second he heard Kirishima return to his room.
Throwing on his headphones and cranking the volume up on his phone, he had stretched out on his bed, desperately hoping the music would distract from what was happening next door. But he could still hear everything because his headphones were complete shit and barely worked.
There was something dark and vicious roiling in the pit of his stomach, something he steadfastly refused to call jealousy because he wasn't some loser who got jealous over something so stupid.
He tried telling himself to just get over it already but that was a lot easier said than done. He just had to grin and bear it until it was finally over.
But the tipping point came when he heard Kirishima moan for the umpteenth time that afternoon, singing Metal Head's praises. His voice high and breathy, Kirishima lauded, "Ooh, right there!"
Just like that, Bakugo was done. His patience, already in short supply, had finally run out.
He ripped his stupid overpriced headphones off and threw them down on his bed, making a mental note to fucking kill Jeff Bezos his god damn self. Standing up, he stomped out of his room and down the short distance to Kirishima's door that he promptly kicked in, practically blind with rage.
Small, involuntarily explosions detonated in his palm, the smell of burnt marshmallows filling the hallway. Like a wild bull, he barged unthinkingly into Kirishima's room, yelling, "Will you two shut the fuck up already?!"
As the smoke from his explosions cleared, he was met with the rather unexpected sight of Kirishima and Metal Head sitting on the bed together, Kirishima between the other boy's knees as Metal Head massaged his shoulders. Both of them were still fully dressed in their workout clothes. Wait, what the fuck?
"What the fuck are you doing?" Bakugo demanded, thoroughly confused and absolutely hating it, as the other two gaped at him. Kirishima blinked the smoke out of his eyes, waving his hand to clear the air, while Metal Head looked about ready to fucking piss himself. Good.
"Hey, man!" Kirishima greeted casually, completely nonplussed, by now used to Bakugo's tendency to quite literally explode when frustrated or annoyed. Pointing a thumb at Metal Head who still had his grubby hands on Kirishima's shoulders, bared by the thin straps of his black tank top, he explained, "Tetsu's giving me a massage. I always get tense whenever I use my Quirk a lot."
"You were...making noise," Bakugo pointed out, beyond confused and feeling increasingly stupid which only made him even angrier. Frowning, he covered up his confusion with another angry growl of, "You're loud as fuck!"
"Oh, sorry," Kirishima mumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, flashing Bakugo a bright, toothy smile. Gesturing at Metal Head again, he theatrically groaned, "It just feels so freaking good! Tetsu's got magic hands, I swear!"
"Whatever," Bakugo scoffed, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at Tetsu. He sneered at the stupid fucking bullshit nickname Kirishima had given him, curling his lip at the pathetic extra.
Kirishima didn't seem to notice his baleful look but Metal Head seemed to get the hint as he very wisely dropped his hands from Kirishima's shoulders and abruptly stood up. He nearly knocked Kirishima off the bed in his haste, his movements jerky and stiff.
That got Kirishima's attention. He looked up at Metal Head, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion at his friend's sudden, awkward behavior.
"Sorry, I forgot. I-I have a...thing," Metal Head blurted, eyes nervously flicking over to Bakugo as he spoke. Without waiting for a response, he made a beeline to the door, awkwardly squeezing by Bakugo who refused to move for him and sprinting down the hallway towards the elevator.
"Huh," Kirishima said, still scratching his head as he looked after his friend. He was clearly confused by the sudden departure but merely shrugged, reasoning, "Must be something really important—" he turned back to Bakugo, beaming at him "—So what's up, dude?"
"I told you, you're fucking loud," Bakugo deadpanned, kicking Kirishima's door shut behind himself as he walked further into the room. He was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another, even if he didn't like the answer.
Kirishima visibly winced, clearly apologetic. Offering a small smile, he said, "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Guess being quiet wasn't really my top priority. Tetsu's massages are seriously the best. It's part of why we keep hanging out after practice."
"So you're not with him?" Bakugo abruptly asked, too frustrated to be tactful. Not that anyone would ever accuse him of being too subtle. He desperately hoped he didn't seem too desperate as Kirishima cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.
"Like romantically?" Kirishima clarified, a deep furrow between his brows as he frowned. Bakugo just nodded. He immediately regretted it when Kirishima burst into laughter, doubling over on his bed as he held his sides.
Bakugo glared at him as he laughed, wiping at the corners of his eyes. Between hysterical laughs, he managed to wheeze, "Dude! Tetsu is like the straightest person I've ever met! It's pretty much the one thing we don't have in common!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Bakugo hissed as Kirishima continued cackling, clutching his stomach. He could feel a flush burning on his cheeks, trying to will it away as he glowered at Kirishima who was still laughing.
"Okay, okay," Kirishima relented, holding his hand up as he gradually stopped laughing, wiping tears out of his eyes. Shaking his head, he asked, "But why the hell would you think we were together?"
"The fucking noises!" Bakugo snapped, because it really should have been obvious. But sometimes talking to Kirishima was like talking to a brick wall.
"You kept fucking moaning!" He pointed out, frustrations mounting again. Angrily gesturing around, he sputtered, "I thought you were...!"
Kirishima looked increasingly confused, squinting at Bakugo a bit. Tilting his head to the side again, he simply asked, "Thought we were what?"
"Y'know!" Bakugo grit out as small, frustrated explosions went off in his palm, crackling in the quiet room. He was just about ready to blow the whole building up just to get out of the conversation. But he was no coward so he finally admitted, "I thought you guys were fucking!"
Just like that, Kirishima was cracking up again. Bent nearly in half as he laughed, he shook his head, gasping, "Oh my god! Dude, no!"
By the time his laughter started to taper off, Bakugo's ears were burning and he was about two seconds from storming out after blowing up Kirishima's stupid shark-toothed face. Still giggling a bit, Kirishima told him, "Yeah, dude, no. Like I said, he's straight. Besides, he knows I like someone."
"Oh," Bakugo said for lack of anything better to say, anger mixing with disappointment and that stupid not-jealousy. Now he was really ready to leave.
"Yeah, a certain king of explosion murders," Kirishima said softly, like he was talking to himself. He said it so softly that Bakugo was sure he somehow misheard.
"What?!" Bakugo demanded, whipping his head up to gawk at Kirishima. He waited for him to say it was a joke, that he was just kidding, that he just wanted to get a rise out of him. But he didn't.
He just stared down at his lap, fisting his hand in the fabric of his shorts. Bakugo silently walked closer, holding his breath as he sat beside Kirishima on the bed.
"Is that alright?" Kirishima asked in a whisper, sounding painfully shy, like he was worried that Bakugo might explode or punch him or do something else to reject him. He was biting his lip, cheeks almost as red as his hair.
"Yeah," Bakugo breathed, impulsively reaching out to grab Kirishima's hand, tangling their fingers together. As Kirishima looked up at him, clearly shocked, he added, "It's alright. Better than."
Kirishima offered a soft smile, tightening his grip on Bakugo's hand as he scooted a few inches closer. Letting out a low, content sigh, he laid his head on the other boy's shoulder, his hair tickling the side of Bakugo's neck.
"Wait..." Kirishima muttered, craning his neck to look up at Bakugo, the angle weird and uncomfortable. Frowning he asked, "If you thought we were having sex why'd you just burst in like that?"
"I don't fucking know! I didn't really think it through, okay?! I just wanted to stop fucking hearing you guys!" Bakugo growled, more than a little defensive. He huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up again, not having ever considered that he might have caught Kirishima and Metal Head in the act.
"You're so cute, dude," Kirishima reported matter-of-factly, scooting even closer to Bakugo. Bakugo couldn't see his smile but he could hear it on Kirishima's voice, sure that it was as bright as the sun that was setting outside.
Rather than yell that he wasn't cute like Kirishima would have expected, Bakugo got quiet. His voice was uncharacteristically soft as he mumbled, "Can-Can I do that for you?"
"Do what?" Kirishima hummed, tipping his head to the side a bit, pressing his forehead against Bakugo's neck.
"What he was doing. After training," Bakugo grit out, for whatever reason unable to just spit out the word massage. Fortunately, Kirishima was pretty much fluent in Bakugo.
"Give me massages?" Kirishima wondered aloud though he was fairly sure he already knew the answer. When Bakugo nodded curtly, he assured him, "Of course, dude!"
As Kirishima somehow shifted even closer, curling his free arm around Bakugo's waist, he recounted his and Metal Head's training session like it was just another Saturday night. Meanwhile, Bakugo was thinking about massaging Kirishima's broad shoulders and all the other ways he could make him moan. As soon as they got the thin walls fixed.