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Despite normally being a loudmouth, Kamakiri can be surprisingly reserved about certain things.
Class 2-B only knows he’s dating, or at least seeing someone because when they change into their costumes or gym clothes he starts sporting scratches, fingerprints, even bites.
They ask, almost worried at first, but when the only answers they get are variations on the “none of your fucking business” theme, they become more teasing. Curious.
Who has been bedding their bad tempered, bad mouthed classmate?
Who is the fierce… girl? boy? who keeps marking Kamakiri up?
Despite normally being a loudmouth, Bakugou can be surprisingly reserved about certain things.
Class 2-A only starts to suspect he’s maybe seeing someone and not simply getting into fights when they spot unusual bruises as they change into their costumes or gym clothes. Something that looks like fingerprints on his waist. A scratch or two.
They ask, they tease, they escape from explosions, they wonder.
Until one day there’s a new clue. A bite mark.
High on the back of his shoulder, two perfect half circles of teeth. And on either side, a single point that fades off into a thin line, almost as if…
It’s Kaminari the one brave (or transfixed) enough to draw nearer at the end of practice, when the mark lies there in the open. Kaminari stares, taking mental notes.
Bakugou whirls around feeling the eyes on him, a hand at the ready with an explosion, but Kaminari is already running off.
“I’ve got it!” He shouts, running out of the changing room just in his undershirt and trousers, but the excitement is too much, because “I know who it is!”
There’s a mad dash through the school corridors, some people running ahead with Kaminari as they hear his words, others opting to slow Bakugou down enough to let their cunning classmate run away to the person who surely will be a match for the newest marks on their resident bad tempered gremlin.
Class 2-B is just stretching and lightly chatting in between hours, waiting for the next professor to appear while the one before has already left, trusting them not to make chaos.
Unfortunately, chaos finds them instead.
The door slams open suddenly, Kaminari from 2-A standing there panting, then his face lights up, crazy grin wide as static fluffs up his hair. “It’s him!” He shouts, then runs inside just as more members of 2-A crash into their doorway.
Everyone in 2-B tenses, but not much can be done before Kaminari has swiftly made his way to seat number 3 to take Kamakiri’s face between his hands, going as far as pulling down his lower lip with his thumb, before jerking back to whoop loudly.
Kamakiri has stood as well, a mix of shock and murder in his eyes, but even the excited blond who has just invaded their class isn’t loud enough to cover the sound of swearing and scuffling coming from the corridor.
Ashido jumps away from the doorway yelling “Incoming!” just seconds before Bakugou bursts inside of class 2-B with a roar of “DUNCE FACE!!!”
Kaminari twirls around to confront him with a big grin. “Kaccha~an! I’ve found your boyfriend~!”
Bakugou lunges for him with an incoherent yell and an explosion, but the improvised detective of 2-A is saved by a strip of tape yanking him out of the way and towards the corner of the ceiling, where a battered looking Sero has secured himself.
Bakugou’s explosion lands on Kamakiri’s desk. Through the smoke coming from the furniture, their eyes meet in the sudden silence.
Until Monoma screeches “BETRAYAL!” only to be karate chopped by Kendou a second later. It still breaks the spell.
“SHUT UP!” Bakugou shouts back.
“Leave Monoma out of this,” Kamakiri growls as he draws close to loom over him. “He’s not the fucker who’s gone around making this mess!”
“Oh?” Bakugou squares up and bares his teeth. “And whose fucking fault do you think it is?”
“Knock-off Pikachu’s, of course, are you stupid?”
“IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT, I TOLD YOU NOT TO BITE!”
“YOU SCRATCH ME LIKE AN ALLEY CAT AND THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH IT?”
“EVERYONE HAS NAILS, BUT YOURS IS THE ONLY STUPID FACE WITH THESE!”
Despite being two very loud individuals, Kamakiri and Bakugou still manage to hear the faint click of a phone snapping a picture while they’re practically nose to nose, Bakugou dragging Kamakiri down by the grip he has on his external mandibles, while Kamakiri has a hand fisted in the front of the blond’s shirt and the other braced over the desk that still stands between them.
They turn as one towards the sound, finding all of class 2-B and nearly half of class 2-A looking at them, varied levels of shock and amusement on their faces, lots of phones raised in their direction, either taking photos or with the tiny red light of filming right there like a sentence.
Without even needing to consult each other, they size up half of their opponents each, palms sparking up and blades emerging.
“Say goodbye to those phones, assholes.”
They jump forward, people scream and run. Over the noise their voices can still be heard.
“Yeah, what my boyfriend said.”
“YOU’RE MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND!”
“FUCK YOU! I SAID IT FIRST!”
“CATCH THAT ONE, YOU DIPSHIT, SHE’S ESCAPING!”
That is actually how they make things official.