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“Calm down, would you?”
Bakugou twitches beneath his friend’s touch, Kirishima’s hand firm on his shoulder while the red head leans around him on the couch. He snatches a pillow from the overflowing pile besides the blonde, wedging it behind himself.
“Shut up,” Bakugou bites back, hunching beneath the physical contact, “why the fuck would you let those assholes pick the damn movie?”
Kirishima, patient as ever, shrugs. In the dim light cast by the TV’s menu screen and seeping from the numerous lamps dotting the room, Bakugou appears softer than normal. The red of his cheeks is dusted with comfortable yellows and ambers, his hair practically golden. His eyes, usually wild and erratic, are gentle. Ruby and warm. Even the black clinging to him seems to heat, as though even his clothing can’t bring itself to be as harsh as his tone is trying to be. It is a pleasant change of pace, Kirishima muses. Not that he’d ever mention it, but Bakugou almost looks vulnerable.
“Because it’s their turn,” Kirishima offers in response. “And we all agreed to the weekly movie night rules when we all moved in together.”
His attention slides past Bakugou to settle on two of his friends, both doused in the glow of lamp light and hum of screen static. Kaminari grips a small silver hard drive, clad in black pyjama pants and shirt far too big for him, he’s either unable or unwilling to contain his enthusiasm. With Mina at his side in obnoxious hot pink striped shorts and singlet, they both squeal happily together. Buzzing and excited and incredibly awake in comparison to the night throbbing behind closed curtains. Their fists hit the air in triumph, beaming as Bakugou scowls.
“Besides,” continues Kirishima, giving his friend’s shoulder another squeeze before reluctantly letting go, Bakugou sinking further into the couch, “what’s wrong with Mulan?”
“We’re adults!”
Kirishima raises an eyebrow at Bakugou’s insistence. “So?”
“So? It’s a kid’s movie,” Bakugou snarls, lip curling and hand balling into a fist against his knee. “Why the fuck would we watch a kid’s movie?”
Mina snorts, nudging Kaminari into action and throwing the two men on the couch a glare. “For the same reason we put up with you.”
“What did you fucking say?!”
Mina giggles, joy dripping through her fingers as she covers her mouth. “You heard me,” she retorts with a wicked smile and sway of her hips as she moves towards the kitchen. “We all have to do things we don’t want to. Get over it, hotshot.”
Bakugou looks ready to follow her. Muscles tensing as he considers barrelling explosively after Mina and yelling the obscenities burning the tip of his tongue. He fidgets, peering over the back of the couch into the room she’s melted into, lights blaring far brighter while she clinks through the pantry. A look at Kirishima, however, has him settling.
The red head’s expression is tender. Something about the way he’s swamped in an oversized black skull sweater, its sleeves shoved to his elbows, makes him look soft. His hair, free of whatever wax and willpower generally holds it up, frames his features and hugs the angles of his cheeks and jaw. A gentle smile eases Bakugou’s boiling temper back into a simmer, the blonde’s eyes narrowing.
“I like kid’s movies,” pipes in Sero from the floor. He doesn’t look up from the phone in his lap while he lounges in one of the many oversized beanbags, body almost completely swallowed by the seat. The orange of his shirt clashes noisily with the dark fabric trying to eat him, only muted by soft grey pants before immediately clattering against the loud colours and patterns on his socks. His face illuminates with the soft glow of the screen, his foot bouncing lazily in the air while he scrolls.
“No one asked you, elbows.” Bakugou grumbles, his growl not enough to phase the man across from him.
“Technically you did,” Sero corrects, grinning into his phone. He lets out a small chuckle, the sound of frantic typing followed quickly by Kaminari’s text tone.
“He’s right,” Kirishima agrees, bringing his knees loosely up to his chest and pressing his back into the crook of the couch. He rests an elbow on the back of the couch, chin propped in his hand and watching Bakugou fume. Kirishima makes an apologetic motion with his free hand before running it through his hair. “Sorry, bro.”
“Would you get that damn hair out of your face?”
Kirishima blinks, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. He puffs out his chest a little, his sweater caught uncomfortably between his body and the couch. “Nah, it makes me look cool.”
Bakugou snaps his full attention to his friend, launching at him with a flurry of insults and determined fingers. His bare feet scamper against the blankets Kirishima has insisted on having while his palms pop excitedly. A flailing of limbs has Kirishima slipping back, laughing while he tries to hold back the explosive blonde’s fury with his hands firmly on his chest.
Sero glances over at the display, tired eyes and wide grin showing just how unwilling he is to respond to Kirishima’s pleas for help. “You brought this upon yourself,” he sniggers, tossing his phone aside and shrinking back as Kaminari tries to clamber over him to reach the TV. “Put your headband on or something.”
“No way!” Kirishima grunts, planting a foot on Bakugou’s lower stomach, knees bending with the struggling weight above him.
Bakugou practically growls. “You’re gonna go fucking blind, you damn bastard!”
“But I’ll look-” Kirishima heaves, knocking the cussing blonde away with a solid push, grinning wildly as Bakugou topples backwards off the couch to take out Kaminari’s legs, knocking the pair into a vocal Sero. Panting slightly, Kirishima peers down at his friend. “I’ll look cool, you know?”
“Hey, watch it!” cries Sero, struggling with the elbow gouging at his stomach. “Not cool!”
Kaminari wriggles beneath the new and incredibly angry weight on top of him, Sero’s knee firmly embedded in his back. He gasps through a squirm, catching a hold of Bokugou’s elbow as Kaminari rolls away, pushing the blonde back towards the couch he’d fallen from. “Yeet!”
Sero bellows out a chorus of laughter, wheezing with the release of his lungs and doing his best to dab while his form folds in on itself. Kirishima lunges forward, snagging Bakugou before he can do any damage to the furniture, redirects his friend into sitting. He falls heavily beside the red head, bouncing and bitter.
Kirishima offers him a toothy grin, his chuckles subsiding. “You alright, bro?”
“I’ll kill him.”
“Sure,” Kaminari smooths, stumbling to his feet. He brushes out his clothes and scans the expanse littered with cushions and blankets for the hard drive he’d dropped, mumbling, “whatever you say, dude.”
The comment slips out before he can stop it, and Bakugou rises to his feet. A yelp escapes Kaminari as he scampers back, tripping over his own clumsiness and yells of surrender while the blonde rounds on him.
“Fighting again... Why am I not surprised?” Tired eyes accompany the question, watching from the hallway. A shock of lavender hair disperses into an even larger mess with the hand that runs through it. Shinsou sighs, stumbling forward a little as Kaminari scuttles behind him for cover, knocking him closer to the raging blonde. His head tilts. “Is there ever a time where you aren’t yelling?”
“What’re you doing here?” Bakugou growls, small pops of light sparking from his palms.
“I live here.”
“It’s true,” calls Sero, watching the mayhem unfold. He’s somehow sunk even deeper into the beanbag, his limbs sprouting from the fabric and face almost lost. “He moved in last month, remember? You were really angry about it.”
Shinsou smirks. “He’s angry about everything.”
“Yeah, well...” Bakugou pauses for a beat. He scowls at the man towering above him, his stillness almost unnerving. A mess of hair blocks the light, instead giving off golden purples in return. Exhausted eyes with deep, bruising bags consider him without malice, and a hint of joy teases through his expression. Bakugou hardens his scowl. “Well maybe I’d fucking remember if the bastard ever came out of his shitty room.”
“Why would I?” inquires Shinsou, raising his arm lazily, allowing Kaminari to peek through the gap. “I can hear your conversations just fine. I’m sure the entire building can.”
“Fuck you! I’ll be as loud as I want!”
Shinsou presses his lips together to keep the smile from his face. “If that’s the case,” he starts, detaching Kaminari from his side, “then how are we supposed to watch the movie with all the noise you plan on making?”
“Jus- ugh, would you shut up already? Get out of the way and hand over the yellow idiot.”
Shinsou considers him thoroughly, stepping aside and drifting towards Mina’s calls for him in the kitchen. “Don’t get blood on the carpet,” he murmurs as his arms are loaded up with Mina’s insistence and indecisive snacks. “Can you hold off on murder until Denki puts the movie on?”
Bakugou scowls and reluctantly agrees. Kirishima, twisting in his seat to get a better look at Shinsou and Mina, watch the pair return to the group. Juggling a collection of snacks and drinks, the food is quick to hit the coffee table and devour its surface. Kirishima’s face brightens.
“Hey,” Sero waves a hand, certain and completely accepting of the fact that he’ll most likely never escape the prison his seat has become. “Can you pass me one of those, Kiri?”
The red head glances over the pile. “What colour?”
“Green,” he receives in response.
“Order up!” Kirishima props himself up on his knees, snatching himself a blue packet and tossing a green to Sero. A flash of tape rips from the beanbag, hauling the treat back to a waiting hand.
“Thanks man,” Sero grins, ripping it open and sinking his teeth into it. “Appreciate it.”
Kirishima shuffles a little as Bakugou sits back down beside him with a huff, Kaminari having quickly scampered to the front of the room to kneel by the TV. His weight draws him closer to his friend than he anticipated, and he wobbles.
Bakugou steadies him with a commanding hand and half hearted scowl. “Careful you dumb fuck.”
His concern is thanked with Kirishima offering him a purple package, of which Bakugou takes with a grin.
Surveying the room, Shinsou settles into one of the unoccupied beanbags, sinking a little further than he intended. He struggles for a minute before quickly giving in, letting the fabric swallow him. A smile stretches across his face, faint but undeniable. Mina gives his foot a playful kick, batting it out of the way as she stumbles past towards the unoccupied couch.
“I’m so ready to do this thing,” Kirishima exclaims as Kaminari gets the movie set up, bouncing back into sitting and pulling his feet up. “I’ve seen Mulan more times than I can count. Get ready for singing, guys, because it’s happening.”
Bakugou manages to stop glaring daggers at Kaminari as he crosses the floor to join Mina, giving Kirishima a bewildered look. “You fucking what now?”
“Yeah,” Kirishima replies, a hand working his hair almost nervously. “I know all the words.”
“Shit,” Bakugou grumbles, voice far lower as the opening begins and the room is thrown into a disarray of colours and excited squeals. “If you sing ‘make a man out of you’ for the next week, I’ll kill you.”
“You know the song names?” Kirishima’s expression brightens so much that it’s blinding, and Bakugou has to physically force himself not to recoil. “So you do like Mulan!”
“No I don’t,” Bakugou rejects quickly, sinking into his seat and muttering.
Kirishima doesn’t seem to mind, repositioning on the couch until he’s comfortable beside the blonde. “So you won’t be singing with me, then?”
“Of course I’m fucking going to.”