Chapter Text
The night was filled with such a mind-numbing cold that Denki was almost incapable of focusing anything outside of putting one foot in front of another. It was a shame he couldn’t use his quirk to warm himself up like Todoroki and Bakugou could, he thought to himself. The longer he walked, the more it seemed like the wind carried disembodied voices, floating out from the thick greenery on either side of him. Although he was sure he was imagining this, he knew the chills that spread down his body were incredibly real. A creepy night for Halloween, how fitting.
The darkness stretching along the length of Kirishima’s driveway was practically tangible--he knew that if it weren’t for the nebulous lights and glowing pumpkins on his friend’s porch, he wouldn’t have known where to turn. The thought of getting lost in the forest surrounding Kirishima’s house was enough for him to return to only focusing on walking.
It seemed like forever had passed, walking up the driveway. Shinsou, an anatomical encyclopedia, had once told him that the body's metabolism slows in extreme cold. “I’m just psyching myself out,” he muttered to himself, and he climbed onto Kirishima’s porch. With a small, breathless chuckle, he wonders if it’s because the wooden board in his backpack is already working.
He rang the doorbell a few times, figuring that the music was probably pretty loud in the house. However, it didn't take long for Kirishima to come to the door, Bakugou in tow, and Kirishima has a slight flush to his skin that let Denki know he was arriving a little too fashionably late. Nonetheless, he was summarily engulfed in a bear hug, and Denki found himself unable to see anything as his face was all of a sudden sandwiched between Kirishima’s very firm pectorals. He hugged him, back, though, kind of used to these monstrous embraces as the shorter friend. Kirishima was like a small dog who you cuddled all the time, and when it grew up to be the size of a maneater, it would still cuddle up with you at night regardless of your suffocation. Truly, his friend’s growth support had been dramatic. Denki still can’t believe he’s over 185 cm tall now, although Todoroki and Shoji are still the tallest.
Finally released from Kirishima’s chest, Denki gulped in air, laughing shakily. “What, are you trying to be Fatgum for Halloween?” The redhead only laughs in response, punching his shoulder lightly.
Bakugou is still quiet, standing in the doorway and eyeing Denki’s partially opened backpack like he knows every secret Denki had amassed during highschool. Honestly, he probably does.
*****
Denki threw his coat onto a small chair where a few other jackets were sitting, keeping his backpack slung over his shoulder. Although he’d been here many times before, the size of Kirishima’s house in itself stunned him a little every time. The interior decor fit that of a much smaller house, but it still worked just fine. If the room wasn’t so dimly lit, Denki knew he would’ve been able to admire the stone walls and dark oak accents, all coming together to create a home worthy of someone as comfortable as Kirishima Eijirou. Each room seemed like it held enough emotion and personality for 3 places over, full of either family or individual memories. He noticed a new picture on the ottoman, Kirishima’s mothers’ faces lit up with toothy smiles. They were really pretty, actually. Denki didn’t know much about them, but he was sure they showered Kirishima with love, considering how he had turned out. And that they were probably fucking rich, but he kept that thought in a small box.
Music played, loud but somehow familiar and comforting all at once. The beat energized him, and as Kirishima walked him to the living room, Kaminari knew he probably wouldn't be able to hold in his excitement at seeing his friends. Bakugou had already disappeared to go do god-knows-what.
Before he could stop himself, Denki announced his presence. “The life of the party is here!” Denki called, and somehow, his voice managed to carry across the room, cueing the entirety of the party to snap their eyes to him. He ignored the nagging voice of Monoma in his head telling him he could pass for Present Mic's son.
He jumped down the remaining steps, landing easily, and smiled as the faces of his friends made themselves visible. However, this changed rather quickly after he was expertly sniped by a single throw pillow. Hah, throw.
“Hey, what the hell! I’m just trying to liven the mood!” He acted even more offended at the various laughter that surfaces in response to his indignation, but honestly, if he was in their position he would’ve laughed, too. He sloppily threw the pillow back in the direction it came from, grin growing despite his feigned anger. It was a familiar pair of hands who caught it-- belonging to a guy with his violet hair tied back and tired eyes lit up with mischief. Shinso had a way of looking good even when he was running on 2 hours of sleep, and with everything he had in him, Denki really hated it. Well, maybe not really. The long hair looked really fucking good. “Your aim is still shit, I see,” Shinso drawled, and he placed the pillow back on the couch. He even placed pillows with loving care. Huffing, Denki pointedly ignored him and threw his arm around Mina’s shoulder. “And how are you doing, m’lady!” He ignored the sharpness with which she pinched his cheek.
“I was about to call! We thought you might have slept too long,” she giggled. Her long, curly hair draped over his arm, and that really nice perfume of hers was all he could think about. “Not this time! The cold almost convinced me too, though,” he admitted. Her dark eyes softened in a teasing smile, which he knew was full of warmth. Genuinely, he had a crush on everyone in 1A. They were just all so fucking gorgeous, and highschool had done them nothing but good. Distantly hearing Mina’s side conversation with Tsu, his arm still draped over her shoulders, Denki let his eyes wander over the faces of the rest of his best friends, each looking uniquely different than the first time he met them. Midoriya, visibly flustered over something Todoroki had mentioned, was far more of a powerhouse. With incredibly defined arms and a lean build, he’d really grown into his body. He wore an undercut, nowadays, because he had a nasty scar from an altercation with a villain and had decided it’d be easier to leave just the top long. Todoroki’s hair, in contrast, was shoulder length now, the red and white strands tied back in a loose bun. Their height difference was still undeniable, even with Midoriya having gotten taller. He smiled to himself, watching them goof around.
His eyes wandered to Ochako and Jirou, next. The girls waved at him, and he winked back, reveling in their exasperated but fond looks. Ochako’s hair was down to her shoulder-blades, now, her signature bangs still the same length they’d been in their first year. Jirou’s hair was in a lob, her bangs as sharp as ever, and he let a smile linger on his face as he surveyed everyone else, including the two who had met him at the door.
Unsurprisingly, Bakugou had reappeared by Kirishima’s side, a large hand securing the redhead’s waist. Like Kirishima would ever leave his side, Denki thought to himself. Although that scowl was forever etched onto his countenance, it had softened, somewhat. At least for tonight. Meanwhile, Bakugou’s pomeranian hair was now shaved around the sides, on a recommendation by Best Jeanist, but his blond spikes were still one of the most noticeable things about him. He knows Bakugou would kill him if he told anyone else this information.
Kirishima’s hair was much longer, the front still short enough to be gelled into his signature horns. His jaw had strengthened, face angular but still sporting the soft, welcoming eyes they all knew and loved. Bakugou, having noticed him staring, bucked his head at Denki, looking like he was about to place yet another threat on his life, but decided against it.
“Uhh, Kami?”
Denki, jolted out of his people-watching, snapped his eyes back to the front, and was met with Hanta Sero. Eyes unwontedly soft, he smiled at him, looking mildly concerned. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now, dude. You good?” Looking around, Denki just now realized that Ashido had left his side. Sero put his hand on Denki’s head, ruffling his hair with a small smile. He laughed, slapping Sero’s hand away. “Yeah, you nerd, I’m fine. Just realizing how far we’ve all come, you know?” Denki responded. They all had grown so much since their hellish first year as heroes in training. Sero considered this, then smiled. “Yeah, we’re all totally badass now, right?” Sero lamented. They both laughed, linking arms to join everyone else in the ‘family room,” whatever the hell that was.
As soon as he walked in, Sero branching off to find his dab pen, he felt a plastic cup in his hand, and it had not been put there with love. Slightly alarmed, Denki didn’t have to look up before he shied away from the menacing look he knew was on Bakugou’s face. “You, me, IcyHot and that fucking nerd. Beer pong. Now.” The blonde jerked a thumb towards a wooden table in the left-center of the room, where Midoriya and Todoroki were downing shot glasses. Oh. He hadn’t been expecting that.
Denki wasn’t entirely sure that Bakugou could be trusted, with those terrifyingly sexy arms and jawline. Ugh. What-the-fuck-ever. “Sounds good. Don’t kill me,” Denki responded levely. Bakugou shrugged, very obviously saying “I can make no such promise,” before he disappeared into the throw again.
The music was still blaring, an energizing but hard song that allowed him to feel the notes in his bones. It was warmer in here too, now that he thought about it, and a small part of Denki distantly wondered if they had been hotboxing this room. But, admittedly, there was no visible smoke in the air. He finally settled in at the end of the table, opposite that of Midoriya and Todoroki. Bakugou had apparently needed to “get ready,” which made him a little unnerved. He wasn’t aware that there was anything that Bakugou could do to increase his chances of victory aside from being Bakugou. Speaking of Bakugou; Denki, looking down at the pink contents of his cup, couldn’t help but smile. That asshole had actually remembered that he didn’t like regular beer. Denki downed the Jamaican-Me-Crazy pretty easily, laughing at Midoriya’s shocked expression, and he was tempted to laugh even harder at the quirk of Todoroki’s brow.
“I didn’t know you could drink like that!” the boy cried. He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent and ~cool~. “If you can do it, Midoriya, I better be able to,” he teased. Midoriya laughed, suddenly a little more happy than surprised. Denki couldn’t help but smile back. Man, the guy’s energy was infectious. Before he could continue thinking about Midoriya’s earnest smile (and perhaps die at the hands of Shoto Todoroki himself), he felt a ping pong ball hit him squarely in the back of his head. “Let’s get this show on the road, you fucking bastards.”
Turning around, ready to express offense, Kaminari found his mouth and brain suddenly unable to work. The Bakugou Fucking Katsuki was standing there, shirtless, defined body eager for observation. War paint, orange and black, was streaked under his cheeks and a black bandana pushed his spiky hair back. That trademark sneer graced his face, not at all phased by the eyes on him. And oh man, were there eyes on him. He could practically sense Kirishima’s thirstiness from the opposite side of the room, and he knew the red on his friend’s face wasn’t because of the alcohol.
Finally able to close his mouth, Denki vaguely motioned to Bakugou’s entire body, and asked: “Uhh.., what’s up with that .” Bakugou laughed, not cruelly but more like he knew he was about to fucking destroy them. “This is my lucky warpaint. You’re about to get fucking demolished, Dunce-Face. Deku, too. Watch and learn,” he jeered.
Denki gulped, feeling a small pit in his stomach. Midoriya did not look worried in the slightest. “Quirks or no quirks?” he finally choked out. At this point, if Bakugou looked any scarier, he was actually going to drop out before the game even started. “I’d blast your asses away even if I couldn’t use explosions, but,” and his red eyes flickered to Kirishima, “tonight, we’re gonna raise hell.” As Midoriya settled in next to him, arm flickering with green electricity, he did not doubt the validity of that statement whatsoever. “Bring it on, Kacchan!”
****
As he had expected, they had lost miserably. Well, not really, but Denki hadn’t gotten a single ball in, so more of a personal loss. It seemed like Bakugou and Todoroki were incapable of ever being physically incapacitated, no matter how many cups they downed. Their aim had been excellent and precise, and he’d whined more than a few times that their skills were so unfair. Midoriya, ever the good sport, clapped him on the back. “We’ll get them next time, Kaminari, I just know it!”
God, the guy was so wholesome. Not wanting to be a Debby Downer, Denki laughed as well. “Yeah, I’m sure we will, man.”
The night passed by with many more games, including “Paranoia,” his personal favorite. You sat in a circle, and the first person to go would whisper a question in someone’s ear. The answer to that question would have to be the name of someone at the party. Then, the person who asked the question would flip a coin. Heads, you say the question out loud. Tails, the other person says their answer out loud. Either way, you never have the full context, and people got… well, paranoid. The most intriguing round had sported Midoriya as being the questioner and Bakugou the one answering. Denki truly could not guess what kind of nefarious, dirty question the guy had asked him, but the absolute dread in Bakugou’s eyes was enough to see for him. All they knew was that his answer had been Kirishima.
Denki, himself, had gotten a pretty easy question (from Mina, of course): “Who do you think is secretly fucking?” With a pause, he looked around at everyone in his class, all of them returning the favor as they waited for his answer. “Hm. Midoriya and Todoroki,” he whispered back. Mina giggled, trying not to look at them, but she was helpless. Midoriya, in his peripheral vision, looked rather uncomfortable, while Todoroki was as stoic as ever. Denki half-heartedly flipped the coin, smacked it onto the back of his hand, and called out the answer. “Heads!”
Ashido grinned, snatching the coin from him playfully. “The question I asked was ‘Which people do you think are secretly fucking?’” Denki pretended to not notice the way Midoriya folded into himself out of embarrassment.
After that lovely game, Denki checked his watch. 1 AM. As according to the handmade invite, they were all staying for the weekend, and somehow, Kirishima’s house was big enough to house all 15 of them there, as a few of their other classmates had internships they couldn't skip out on. Looking around, he saw that most everyone was just chatting mindlessly, milling about, and eating some more food if they hadn’t already. He had learned that, unfortunately, the gift reveal had happened a little while before Denki had arrived, so there wasn’t much left on the list of birthday party activities. Well, except for that one really dumb thing every horror movie tells you not to do in a big house where everyone knows you’ll be for a few days.
Denki stood up, deciding it was about that time, and left the comfortable chair behind in the family room, figuring he needed to find the birthday boy. It wasn’t hard to walk, but after a few hits from Sero’s pen, it seemed to take ages for him to actually leave the room. The music was a dull noise in the back of his mind, driving him forward. As long as he didn’t faceplant like last time, everything would be alright. Speaking of last time. He really hoped he wouldn’t find him sucking Bakugou’s face off or anything. Apparently, he had a knack for cockblocking.
Wandering through the living room and the kitchen, he found the lovers sitting on the couch, wrapped up in each other, and having a quiet conversation. Denki cleared his throat, loudly, and was surprised to find his head still intact after Bakugou saw him. “What do you want, Pikachu?” he called. So much malice in such few words. “Kirishima, I wanted to ask if it’s okay for us to move to your basement?”
Denki made sure his smile was innocent, kind, like he wasn’t a conniving bastard. Kirishima untangled himself and sat up, ignoring the thick arms that wrapped around his waist and prevented him from leaving the couch. “Yeah, sure. What’d you have in mind?” he inquired. Denki also pretended to not notice the kiss Bakugou placed on the back of Kirishima’s neck. “Well, you’ll see when we get down there,” he replied easily. The two looked at him, eyes searching, but they apparently didn’t find what they were looking for and joined him as he walked back to the room where everyone was staying.
Everyone’s eyes gradually returned to the trio, and he pretended he couldn’t feel Shinso’s questioning gaze. To be fair, Shinso hadn't been in their class during the formation of the dubbed "bakusquad." He probably thought Bakugou hated him... which was true, sometimes.
“What’s up?” Ochako called. She was already on her feet, her infectious smile large, and he wondered to himself how she still had so much energy. Bakugou, still behind him, answered. “We’re heading to the basement, fuckers! Get out!”
If this wasn’t enough motivation, Denki didn’t know what would be. The entrance to the basement was actually in the family room, so most of his friends just left their belongings and headed down the stairs in pairs, chatting idly, and he heard Yaoyorozu ask Jirou what was going on. Jirou sent him a sideways look, eyes narrowed, before turning back to her girlfriend. He couldn’t hear her reply, but he was sure it was something along the lines of “Something to do with that fucker, Kaminari.”
She was right, of course.