Chapter Text
Bakugou was changing out of his gym uniform. Everything in his compression shorts was a mess. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing though. A full bank of lockers was between him and the few guys still left in the locker room and it wouldn't take him long to step out of this pair, into another, and sort himself out.
However, he made the mistake of not bothering to look low and see a certain purple head watching him suspiciously.
He would look back on this and think of a hundred ways he could have minimized the amount of time his bare ass was out there for the world. But he wasn't thinking about it. His foot got caught on the cloth as he stepped out of them and it took him an extra few seconds of digging to find the other pair.
That's when an unwelcome hand slid up between his legs, fingers touching him, quick and curious. They started at the front and slid back, parting the labia then a small, sticky finger was inside him. Disgust crawled across Bakugou's skin but the disbelief at what was happening held him captive.
"You're a girl," Mineta said, shocked beyond reason, a touch of excitement starting to filter into his voice as he pulled his hand away and stared at it in wonder.
All anyone else in the locker room knew was that, in the next second, the back wall into the field was blown to pieces.
Kaminari’s eyes were wide with panic as he raced down the hall toward Aizawa and Yamada shouting, "Bakugou's trying to kill Mineta!"
The teachers exchanged a look and the three began running back the way he’d come.
"What happened," Aizawa demanded.
"None of us saw it. We were on the other side of the locker room when he blew Minta through the wall. I've never seen Bakugou so mad before, he hasn't even said a word!"
As they neared the doors, the sound of explosions became unmistakable.
They burst out onto the field to carnage. Shoji and Sato were on the ground, smoking and bloody but breathing. Kirishima and a battered Sero were between Bakugou and Mineta, trying desperately to keep him back, shouting for him to calm down and be reasonable.
Bakugou seemed to hear none of it. He was laser focused, nothing but pure, cold hatred in his eyes. True to Kaminari's words, Bakugou was not speaking, not even to his best friend, who was barely holding off a violent assault, his hardening beginning to break down.
Mineta was on the ground with a clearly broken arm, bleeding profusely from the head. When he tried to throw one of his sticky balls to help ward Bakugou off, it flew wide and landed somewhere far to the left. He tried to speak, but blood was dribbling out of his mouth from a swollen, bitten tongue.
Present Mic’s Quirk boomed over the combatants, commanding them to stop. The other students were distracted and what little of Mineta's face that was not a bloody mess lit with hope.
Bakugou, however, took advantage of the distraction and flew past Mineta's defenders. It was a well calculated move that put Sero directly between him and Aizawa's line of sight.
Their teacher was almost too late as one of Bakugou's hands clamped down around Mineta's throat. There was a mild puff of smoke but not the sudden splattering of flesh and bone the onlookers were certain had been coming. He didn't need an explosion to finish the job though.
Bakugou raised the small boy high over his head by the neck, his other hand crushing Mineta's wrist where he was still clutching one last sticky ball. It fell from Mineta's limp fingers as he choked, his stumpy legs kicking at empty air.
“Bakugou, that's enough! Stop right now,” Aizawa’s sharp order had the other boys shrinking back on instinct.
Bakugou did not react, still intent on his task even as his teachers grabbed them. They barely managed to wrestle Mineta out of his grip. Yamada handed him off to Kaminari, who immediately turned and began running for Recovery Girl.
Bakugou ducked out of Aizawa's hands only to be caught seconds later in his capture weapon. Aizawa's eyes were beginning to dry out painfully but he didn't dare close them as Bakugou dragged him a step forward with the force of his all-consuming fury.
"The rest of you," Aizawa said through his teeth, with no room for argument, “If you're not hurt, help the others and get back to the dorms. Mic, make sure they don’t leave."
No one put up any protest but there were many concerned looks thrown Bakugou's way. Kirishima in particular had to be gently cajoled into helping drag an unconscious Shoji off the field.
By the time the others were out of earshot, Bakugou had stopped fighting but he was still tense. Aizawa withdrew the capture weapon but kept it at the ready.
"Tell me what happened."
Bakugou was shaking now, head down and fists white knuckled, either unwilling or unable to speak.
“Bakugou, you have to tell me what happened. You just tried to kill a fellow student. That is not an act befitting a hero.”
That finally got a reaction out of Bakugou. His laugh was harsh, derisive, and full of so much bitter hatred. "Yeah, right, I was fighting a damned villain, that's a hero's fucking job!” He rounded on Aizawa, his voice so loud it could probably be heard through the windows, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT WORTHLESS FUCKING SHIT STAIN STILL DOING AT THIS SCHOOL?!"
"What did he do," Aizawa repeated with such forced calm.
"He was fucking molesting me, that's what he did!" Bakugou's shaking worsened and his voice began to break. "That creepy little gremlin isn't a fucking hero. Do you know how many times he's done that kind of shit to the girls? I'm not the first and I won't be the last, so WHY THE HELL DO YOU KEEP HIM AROUND?!"
A pit of dread opened in Aizawa's stomach and he stepped closer to his student.
Bakugou was sobbing now. "I was just changing and I thought I was alone and that asshole comes up behind me and starts touching me like he has any goddamn right. His sticky ass fucking fingers..." Bakugou cut himself off on a choking cough and then emptied his stomach on the grass.
Aizawa reached out to steady him but Bakugou knocked his hands aside, shivering.
Aizawa bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Bakugou. You're right. I overlooked his behavior and prioritized his growth as a hero over my duty to protect the rest of my students. As your teacher, I failed all of you. I swear, this will not happen again."
Only minutes before curfew, Bakugou stepped through the doors into the dorms, still wondering why the school employed such a useless counselor, and the one person he did not want to see looked up from a couch to meet his eyes.
"Kacchan!"
That worried gaze immediately put Bakugou on the defensive. Deku had figured it out. It was hardly surprising; the kid could never keep his nose out of anything and already knew Bakugou’s history, but that didn't make it any less grating.
Bakugou’s fingers flexed. He’d needed to hit something anyway.
Deku had scrambled up and was opening his mouth to say something, but Bakugou slammed him against the wall. It gave an ominous groan and the breath left Deku. His forearm pressed tight to Deku's collarbone and let his other palm hover deliberately against the other boy's neck in a clear threat. Their classmates had sprung up at the first sign of violence but now they had all gone still.
Bakugou's voice was full of a deadly calm as he asked, "What did you tell them?"
Deku was still struggling for breath but managed to gasp out, "N-nothing!"
"You better not be fucking lying to me, shitty nerd, or I'm going to do to you what I didn't get to do to that fucking pea-sized–”
“It wasn’t just that he found out, was it, Kacchan?” The nearly silent question drew Bakugou up short, his body freezing without his consent, like if he didn’t move Deku couldn’t read from him exactly what had happened. It didn’t help.
Deku’s face darkened at whatever he found in Bakugou’s stillness. “I didn’t think so. You’d have been angry and threatened him then, but you wouldn’t have gone that far.” Deku’s eyes were full of a pity that made Bakugou’s fist itch to plant itself in his face. He wasn’t some weak maiden in need of saving.
Deku’s eyes dropped and he said, “I don’t know what I could have done, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there to–”
Bakugou’s hand tightened on his neck, cutting him off in a stuttered gasp. “Like you’d have made a fucking difference, asshole. Stop with the high and mighty bullshit and just keep your damn mouth shut.”
Deku struggled for air, but he sacrificed it all to say, “I never tell!”
Bakugou didn't trust him even half as far as he could throw him, but Deku's eyes were blazing with that irritating determination. Bakugou's grip loosened.
Deku drew in a hard-won breath and his voice was so sure as he said, "But you should. These are your friends, they’d–"
Bakugou pulled him back and slammed him against the wall again. "Not another goddamn fucking word!"
With one last heated glare, Bakugou dropped him and marched off to his room, not even glancing at anyone else.
The adrenaline of the confrontation was just wearing off when there was a knock at the door.
"Bakugou, it's me.” Bakugou did not remember giving his body permission, but at the sound of Kirishima's voice, his feet were dragging him around and his hand yanked open the door as Kirishima was saying, “It's been kind of a crazy day and I just wanted to–”
Bakugou had no idea what the look on his face was but Kirishima immediately stopped talking at the sight. His friend's emotional intelligence was sharper than Bakugou wanted to deal with right now, but he left the door wide behind him anyway.
He had no idea what to do once he had gotten to the middle of his room though. His skin was stretched the wrong way over his body and he could not figure out how to move any further, a few pops and crackles going off on his palms.
The door shut, lock clicking over, and Kirishima's hand hesitantly settled on his shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”
Bakugou did not have an answer. Instead, he followed the screaming for violence pumping through his blood. He spun and swept Kirishima’s feet out from under him, shoving him down onto the bed. A surprised shout was driven out of Kirishima’s lungs with his breath.
Bakugou did not give him even a second to react as he leapt on top and pinned him down. He didn’t know what he intended to do though. His hands were shaking as they fisted in Kirishima's shirt and his jaw clenched as the seconds dragged long.
He was so worked up he could easily blow the whole room to rubble, try to bury this abysmal day in it, but that wouldn't help. The world was pressing down hard from all sides and he could barely breathe.
Kirishima was just watching him, not even bothering to fight back. Bakugou dropped his forehead hard to Kirishima’s sternum, his fists so tight his knuckles cracked. He wanted to curse, to demand Kirishima do something, but the words were lost down his throat in a tight cluster.
Frustrated, he collapsed sideways and buried his fingers in his hair, palms pressed tight to his eyes. Kirishima shifted beside him, but Bakugou was beyond caring.
Then there were firm hands guiding him. He could have pulled away but he was not in the headspace to disobey. Kirishima’s embrace was warm and accepting, his broad chest like a fortress wall against the world. One of his hands spread wide over Bakugou’s back and the other began rubbing circles up his neck. The tangled knot of barbed wire in his throat shrunk rather than grew under Kirishima's unflinching compassion.
After a long moment of comfortable silence, Kirishima murmured with painful honesty, “You know I'm always here for you, man, whatever you need.”
Bakugou didn’t say anything, staring hollowly at the weave of Kirishima’s shirt. He waited, expecting there to be a 'but', for Kirishima to qualify this with something. He didn’t. The fingers at his neck moved up and began to keep a soothing rhythm through Bakugou’s hair.
He would never admit it, and Kirishima would never tell, but, in the safety of his room with the door locked and no one to witness, Bakugou tucked himself under Kirishima’s chin, letting his best friend indulge him in his desperate need to be held.
He didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until the soft click of the door shutting woke him. He was warm, tucked into blankets infused with Kirishima’s lingering scent, head on his pillow. It was not a violent waking either as he reached out in the dark only to find he didn’t know what he was searching for. He rolled tight into the blankets and breathed deep as he fell back into a merciful, dreamless sleep.