Archive of Our Own

She hated him. She had to. He’s obscenely hammered and Sero told him he’d treat him to breakfast if he survived the night without puking. He’d been determined, because a greasy, free breakfast was the best thing he could ever weasel out of his roommate.

But now he’s gotten himself into quite the pickle.

He’s pissed off this girl in front of him and he can barely remember why.

“What did you just say to me?” she demands. Initially, she seems irritated, but the longer he stands there with his mouth hanging open, the higher her eyebrows raise in concern. She, like the angel she is, whispers, “Are you alright?”

He sputters something out, a mix of ‘p’s and ‘t’s and a smattering of ‘f’s, fully confusing the gorgeous creature. He thinks he spits, too, because she recoils, taking a step back.

“Dude!”

“Huh?”

She’s tapping her foot and her arms are crossed, and she’s so irritated. But her expression softens somehow, and he thinks she’s a fucking saint.

“What was I saying?” he slurs.

She smirks. Dangerously. Denki knows he’s in trouble. “You were asking me a ton of questions, like: is it hot in here or is it just you? Somebody call the cops because it’s illegal to be that cute! Then you walked away for a whopping five minutes and came back with: I couldn’t help but notice you look a lot like my next girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Then you told me you’re here on full scholarship and I’d be a fool not to date you.”

“Oh.”

“And you don’t remember any of that?”

“No.”

“Oh my.”

He is lucky she hasn’t swung and land a fist to his face, because it’s definitely well-deserved.

“Kaminari?”

Oh god, she knows his name!

“Kaminari!”

Say it again!

“Kaminari!”

Oh, that’s not her voice. That’s… Kirishima?

“Holy shit, is he seizing?”

Yeah, that’s Kirishima. Who now swings an open palm toward his face with enough vigor that it makes Denki inadvertently spit out the side of his mouth as his head swings. Denki whimpers, his eyes refocusing on Kirishima. His crimson eyes are boring into his, and his calloused fingers sting as they pinch and poke his delicate face skin. Denki slaps his friend’s hands away, growling a bit.

“He’s back!” Sero cheers. He throws an arm around Kirishima, who is clearly distraught, reaching back out for Denki’s face. He pokes a cheek.

“I’ve never seen him like that!”

“You haven’t?” Sero grins widely, “That’s how he acts when he’s confronted with the object of his drunken desires.”

Kirishima is dumbfounded. He points to himself. “Me?”

“No, dumbass,” Sero snorts, pointing at the girl who still stands with her arms crossed, head tilted in curiosity.

“Oh, Jirou!”

“Is he okay? He hit on me for a full five minutes and then promptly forgot about it. Because he came back for more.”

“He hit on you?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad stuff, too.”

“Ah, yeah, he does that.”

“Hey!” he slurs.

“Go to bed, Kaminari.”

“Mmk.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s done until the next morning when Sero drags him to the gym for morning workout.

He stumbles over his own foot as he, Sero and Kirishima round a corner, which of course makes him stumble right into someone who screams like a girl.

Oh. It is a girl.

A gorgeous one, too.

She looks familiar.

How does he know her…?

“Hey, Jirou!” Sero and Kirishima greet her cheerfully.

“Jirou?” Denki croaks, smitten. She’s looking at Denki like she knows him, and he knows that can’t be good. How could he not remember her? She has shoulder-length violet hair, and bangs that hang low, nearly kissing the lashes of her mischievous, amethyst eyes. She has pale, milky skin, and a small blush across her cheeks, and it’s only then that Denki has flashbacks to the bullshit he’d pulled on her the night prior.

He gulps. He is ridiculous. And this woman is beautiful.

“Hi,” she snorts, tucking longer strands of her hair behind one ear. “You alive in there?”

Sero literally knocks on Denki’s head like he’s knocking on a door, laughing as Denki swats at him to get the fuck off. His hangover is eating him alive.

“I’m… here.”

She smirks, and he can’t help but painfully gulp again, his throat immediately dry, because she is easily his perfect girl. She’s at least half a foot shorter than him, but her gaze levels at him with intense ferocity. Her voice sounds like a song and her lips are pink and plump and Denki really wishes he knew what they felt like, but he’ll settle for her melody…

“After all that you drank yesterday, I’m surprised you’re even awake this morning.”

He stutters, “I had workout…”

“Ah, that’s right. You’re on scholarship here, a striker that’s quick as lightning, which is why they call you Pikachu, and that’s the cutest Pokémon ever, so I should absolutely go on a date with you.”

He chokes.

“Yeah. You said that to me. Last night. Actually, it was the only normal thing you said to me last night. The rest of what you said to me was varying degrees of terrible pickup lines.

“Oh god,” he groans, facepalming.

She grins, her smile so beautiful it’s comparative to the sun, of which he’s gotten used to having been out for a few hours, but this was a special kind of bright. She is radiant. He is obsessed.

“I’m really sorry,” he tries, and she waves him off.

“You’re alright, you were pretty fucked up. But hey, I’ll see you guys around, alright?” She salutes the boys before walking toward the exit, turning around with a cheeky expression. When she winks at him and blows him a kiss, his heart skips a beat and he turns to his friends with a horror-stricken squeal.

“She’s literally perfect,” he whispers, choking down the bile in his throat because he knows he’s messed it up by being a cocky little asshole, and she’s just so cool and chill, but there’s no way she’d give him a chance after that whole stunt.

Kirishima and Sero throw their heads back and laugh, guffawing to the point that when Denki walks away, his friends are too busy supporting themselves on the walls to notice.

Her name is Kyouka Jirou, and she’s the coolest girl he’s ever met. She’s a double psych and music major, and she plays literally every instrument he can think of. Okay, maybe not all of them, but she plays bass guitar in a band with her cousin Hitoshi Shinsou, who Denki knows from a gen-ed course their freshman year.

She’s a junior, like him, but only just transferred to their university that fall. Which is why he must have felt the need to introduce himself and put all his interesting traits forward. She’s best friends with the girls in his friend group, especially Momo Yaoyorozu, who finds him vaguely hilarious, so maybe he could charm her into putting a good word in with —

“Hi.” The angel of his dreams interrupts his thoughts and he nearly pisses his pants in surprise.

“Oh god!” he shrieks.

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Are you okay?”

He groans and runs his hand through his hair, which he forgot was up in a tight ponytail, so his fingers get stuck and he has to yank his hand out. She smirks at him.

“I feel like I have to ask if you’re okay a lot, Pikachu.”

He tries to ignore how much he likes the way his stupid nickname rolls off her tongue. He wishes he didn’t think about her tongue. Because now he’s thinking about making out with her, and now his horny adult mind is spiraling and panicking because he’s in public and she’s right in front of him and he cannot get a random boner in the middle of the school’s square —

“Dude!” she waves a hand in his face. “One too many hits to the head?”

“Uh… yeah,” he laughs, awkwardly.

“I just wanted to know if you would partner with me for our history presentation?”

He chokes. He’d do anything for her. Lie down on train tracks. Drink bleach. Jump off a bridge if it meant she would smile at him.

“Uh, if you already have a partner, that’s okay, too,” she tilts her head, her bangs falling into her eyes.

“No!” he squeaks. “Let’s do it. Be partners. For school. For this presentation.”

She eyes him warily. “Are you gonna be weird about this?”

“Weird?!”

“Listen, you’re all forgiven for the weird shit you pulled at the party. You can be yourself. Relax.”

Relax. Relax? Does she even know what she does to him? She steals the breath from his lungs, her voice drowns out all other sounds, and her smirk is so delightfully sinful that he can barely keep it in his goddamn pants!

“You gonna be okay?” she laughs at him, reaching for him. She grabs onto his forearm and he’s so surprised he nearly falls over. She laughs again, latching on tightly, pulling him to her side. “I’ve gotcha, weirdo.”

“Damn right you do,” he murmurs.

Her face twists, but she doesn’t let go of him as she drags him to class. “You’re literally so strange.”

“Kaminari, you gotta help me out here!”

“How?”

“What does this shit even mean?” Jirou whines.

“What does what mean?”

“This problem!”

“What problem?”

“Well, if you would look at me, I’d be able to show you,” she huffs. Denki grins before he turns. She has her bottom lip pushed out and her brows are furrowed at him. She’s the most adorable when she’s irritated with him.

And she’s irritated with him often.

One could assume he does it all on purpose.

They’d assume correctly.

He leans over, jumping into an explanation that Jirou’s eyes glaze over for. He laughs and pokes her in the cheek, which only makes her puff them out. Which he promptly pokes to deflate. Her mouth makes a farting sound, which makes him giggle like a second grader.

“You’re annoying,” she announces.

“Anything for you,” he grins.

She rolls her eyes, “I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

She rolls her eyes again.

He’s being dramatic, but like, he could definitely love her.

He likes her, he knows this in his head. But he also can’t fathom that she’d ever be able to forget her first impression of him. It had been so garbage that she’d be a fool to want to date him after that. She’s settled for friends, though. She keeps him around to laugh at. He’d let her laugh at him all day long.

But it’s sometimes really hard to watch her with other people that are clearly much better than him. They’re not pompous braggarts when they’re drunk and trying to impress someone. Like sure, he’s a good soccer player and he’s there on scholarship, so his grades are high, and his life is a carefully balanced juggle of wits. He’s a good catch, he thinks.

But for as smart as he is in the classroom, he’s kind of an idiot in the real world.

His friends love to point that out to him and to their credit, it’s usually amusing. He hates seeing it manifest when it matters, though. And because Jirou strikes him dumber than anyone he’s ever known; she has to think the worst of him. She’s way too cool and way too poised to mess with the likes of him. She’s aloof, well-put-together, talented, caring; she even made friends faster than he did in the first few weeks of classes. She’s always surrounded by a group of friends, mostly girls from his general friend group, which works in his favor. But Ashido and Yaoyorozu are the sisters he never wanted, and they love to bully him and put him in his place. And they’re good at it. And it just seems like that’s who she’s closest to.

He stands literally zero chance.

He settles for an uneasy start to a friendship.

He has no chance, so he should focus on anything else.

Anything else.

He finds her curled up in a ball on a lawn chair on the patio. She’s staring up at the sky, the stars hidden by the lights of the city, but it looks like she’s still striving to find them. He had offered to grab another girl a drink, since she was giving off major vibes and he was stoked to get laid. But then he saw Jirou, outside alone, seemingly disoriented.

So, obviously, he’s going to drop everything to make sure she’s okay.

He slides the door open and closes it gently.

“Dude, I don’t want to talk to you.” Her tone is finite; angry.

“But I haven’t talked to you all night?” he replies, because he cannot possibly be who she thinks he is.

She whips her head around, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Oh, Kaminari.”

“So, you do want to talk to me?”

She doesn’t answer but pats the lawn chair beside her. Denki grins at the back of her head and plops down.

“What’s going on?” he asks, knowing he probably shouldn’t, “I mean, if you want to talk about it.”

Her eyes are both bright and dark as they land on his face. She chews on her bottom lip for a moment and hugs her knees closer to her chest before answering.

“I dated some loser for a few months. Wasn’t really into committing, which was fine. I didn’t care, myself. But he’s inside and he pulled some bimbo into a bedroom with him, and he had seen me. I’m just feeling insecure.”

“Why?” he blurts.

“I don’t know. I’m not as curvy as she. I’m not as classically pretty. She looks like fun in the sun and I look like I live in a dungeon. Nothing against her, at all, but I can’t help but compare myself since he saw me and chose her, ya know?”

Denki tries really, really hard not to burst into a monologue of how she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and what she thought was ‘pretty’ was not what he thought was pretty. Then he remembers, nearly immediately, that she doesn’t give a fuck about what he thinks and whatever he thinks bears no weight when it comes to this kind of validation. She just feels badly about herself, even if she doesn’t seem to care for the guy.

“I don’t want you to tell me I’m pretty, or anything,” she says quickly, as if she read his mind. “I just wanted to say it aloud. And it sounds ridiculous when I say it, because it doesn’t even matter —”

“— If that’s how you feel, Jirou, then it does matter.”

She snaps her mouth shut.

“I kinda see where you’re coming from, but I also don’t. Beauty is subjective and just because he wants to bone that other girl, doesn’t mean that you’re not a gorgeous contestant in this game of getting laid.”

She snorts. “Wow, way to make it seem like a gross contest.”

“I’d do anything for first place if you were the prize.”

“Kaminari!” she laughs, a full-bodied one that has her shoulders shaking with mirth. He grins, because she’s cute when she throws her head back and loses herself in the joke.

Eventually, he continues, “I’m just saying. You can compare yourself all you want, but there’s not a standard to live up to. You gotta remember that whoever you want to be with, will find you the most beautiful thing they’ve ever laid eyes on. So, in the meantime, be that person for yourself. Because you’re literally a vision, Jirou, a gorgeous, incredible musician with talents and empathy and smarts and you will find someone that will always choose you.”

Her eyes seem to shine in the moonlight as they travel across his face.

He smiles, again, and tries to act nonchalant. “You sure you don’t care about this guy?”

“I really don’t. I just took it personally when I shouldn’t have. I’m drunk. I’m emotional.”

“Well then, let’s go get another drink and dance our troubles away.”

He stands, offers her his hand, which she grabs.

“You sure you don’t have someone else to entertain?”

He thinks briefly of the girl he’d abandoned and knows that compared to the undivided attention of Kyouka Jirou, he’s already forgotten her name.

“Nah. Got you all to myself.”

She snorts, squeezing his hand before dragging him back in.

“Kaminari!” Jirou’s voice is sharp and annoyed.

His heart is racing because he’s face-down on his bed and jolted awake by Jirou, and the only time that Jirou has ever been in his room was in his dreams and they definitely didn’t involve her being annoyed.

“Kaminari!”

His neck snaps up from his comforter and he’s disappointed to find that he was definitely drooling.

“Kaminari!”

He’s then greeted by her small body jumping atop his, landing on the middle of his back, knocking the wind out of him with a grunt. His face is shoved back into the comforter because her hands are on his shoulder blades and she’s pushing him down to keep her balance.

“How can you be asleep when you promised me a movie date?” she whines petulantly, in a voice she knows he hates.

He tries to reply, but it’s muffled into the blanket. She moves her hands to his shoulders, gripping them as she shakes him back and forth. He chokes on his own spit, having had enough, violently flipping her off his back and to the side, so he can turn around for a better vantage point. He’s gripping onto her sides, which makes her giggle as he bounces down to face her with a glare.

“Hi,” she smiles.

“Why? Why are you like this?”

“Adorable?”

“Annoying!”

“I dunno, part of my charm.”

He rolls his eyes at her, continuing to grumble obscenities under his breath before he realizes that they’re face to face on his bed, his hands are on her hips, and he chokes. She doesn’t seem to care, because she raises a finger and jabs him in his chest.

“You promised me more Marvel.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Yeah, you did, it was last night and you were drunk, and I said I’d never watched Endgame and you freaked out because I was going to watch it without watching the other movies.”

He groans. “I’m still a little drunk, Jirou.”

“Perfect, you can rest while I watch whatever’s next.”

He sits up, wishing he wasn’t feeling so shitty and more flirtatious because Jirou’s in his room. He leans back against his headboard and grabs his remote, ready. She’s still laying down opposite him, and she squeaks, bouncing around until she’s configured beside him. Then she goes, “Wait!” and runs out of the bedroom, returning with several bottles of water and some ibuprofen.

“How’d you even find these?”

“I slept in Sero’s last night. He got us all this stuff before we fell asleep.”

Denki sputters as he takes a sip of water, nearly spitting it out.

“You slept in Sero’s?!” He feels so fucking betrayed, even though he has no right to feel that way.

“Well, yeah, I was hammered. Probably as hammered as you. He let me sleep in his bed with Mina while he slept on the floor.”

He sighs, relieved. Mina. Sero’s floor.

“Why, should I not have?”

“I dunno —”

“— because you locked your door, so no one could get in. But whoever was in here with you left it unlocked when they left.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, how else would it suddenly come unlocked? Your one-night-stand must have left your door unlocked when they left.”

“My…” He doesn’t really remember what happened, but he’s almost positive he spent the night watching Jirou dance with Ashido in her short black skirt, thigh-high socks and half a fucking shirt. There was barely any room in his tiny mind to process any other flirtations. In fact, he thinks he got drunk because Jirou began dancing with that blond prick from one of her classes. It was overtly sexual, and Denki vaguely recalls pounding a few shots out of jealousy. Oh god, he looks down and catches the outfit that caused him so much trouble. She’s still wearing the skirt and socks. The t-shirt looks like Sero’s, so large it nearly covers the skirt. Which would make her wearing an oversized t-shirt and thigh-high socks and Denki really needs to focus and not get hot over Jirou’s outfit —

“I don’t think there was anyone in here last night other than me.”

“That you remember.”

“I swear, I’m pretty sure it’s just unlocked now because I left to pee this morning.”

She studies him. “And you still fell asleep that way, like a weirdo?”

“What do you want from me?” he whines, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it.

“Just drink some water and take some painkiller, okay?”

He drops the pillow into his lap, and with a groan, does what she says.

He goes to start searching for the next chronological film, and she clears her throat.

“So, you sure you didn’t have anyone in here last night?”

“I may have been drunk, but not so drunk that I don’t remember taking someone to bed.”

“Gross,” she replies, her nose wrinkling.

He rolls his eyes. “Gross for you, maybe.”

“Definitely,” she retorts.

His heart pinches a bit, but he knows this is friendship. Teasing is part of it.

“I was gonna say, because after we came in from outside there wasn’t a lot of time for things to happen or escalate, so I was going to be really, really impressed if you did have a girl in here.”

She crawls out of his bed and yanks a university hoodie off his desk chair, burrowing into it when she returns to his bed. He tries not to preen at how fucking cute she looks with his name on her back. He tries not to squeak when she kicks off her shoes and adjusts her skirt. They start the movie and it takes Denki literally all of his willpower to stay a foot away from her.

But Jirou doesn’t seem to care, scooting over and pressing her thigh against his.

He pretends like he’s not losing his ever-loving mind when she curls into his side and falls asleep. Her cheek rests on his shoulder, her chin digging into the ridge of his collarbone, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s pleasant. She is warm and cold all at the same time. Warm against his side, but cold enough for him to stay beside her and keep her warm. He brings that arm around her side, pulling her closer to keep her from shivering. Definitely not because he wants to feel her pressed against him. But because he worries for her temperature. Yeah, that.

She wakes up abruptly at a particularly loud action scene, groaning as she lifts her head off his shoulder.

“Ugh, sorry,” she mumbles.

“No problem — hey, what are you doing?”

“I didn’t sleep off my own hangover as much as I would have liked,” she says, stripping the hoodie off, much to his disappointment. She pulls his comforter down and snuggles into his pillow, tucked in so perfectly, he wants to fucking die. “So, I’m taking a nap.”

“But you’re going to miss the movie!”

“We can watch it again another time,” she murmurs into his pillow. She inhales and exhales slowly, like she’s meditating. “It smells like you… and your morning breath.”

He snorts, laughing as he shoves her slightly. Her eyes are closed as she smiles in return. He likes that she agreed to another time.

“Well, get comfy, I guess,” he says, turning the movie off and putting a tv show on that he doesn’t need to pay attention to. He knows he should probably eat something, or offer Jirou something to eat, but he can’t resist the urge to lay beside her, atop the covers, just to stay close.

She slips out when the sun was highest in the sky, waking him with the movement. They’d slept all morning. She smiles at him and thanks him for the cuddles, which makes him jolt in confusion, because did they cuddle? And he missed it? She whispers goodbye as she grabs his hoodie, donning it after peeling off Sero’s borrowed shirt. Her pale skin peeks out beneath her own top as she switches, and he tries not to imagine how it would feel to drag his tongue up and down her valley of her spine.

He needs Jesus, he thinks.

She turns around, her expression shifting to one of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Where are you going?”

“I’m in day-old clothes, Kaminari. I look like I had a one-night stand. Remember? Like you had?”

“But I didn’t have one!” If word got out that they had a one-night stand, he’d be alright with it.

“I know, silly. I’m teasing. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” He would rather people think they’ve got something going on. Maybe that blond prick from the night before would back the fuck off then and he wouldn’t have to puff his chest out for alpha-like dominance —

“Okay, bye!”

She leaves with a piece of his sanity.

He takes a thorough shower after practice, taking extra care to scrub the mud that collected on his skin. His practice uniform is a loss, he’s going to have to throw it in with nothing else in order to properly clean it. Or maybe he’ll just soak it in some soapy water before throwing it in the laundry. Would he need to scrub it? He really doesn’t feel like it.

He exits the locker room when he remembers he was supposed to meet Sero for dinner, after Sero had left practice early for  study group. He fumbles with his shirt as he walks out, caught over his face, catching water from his hair, and he’s definitely going to dinner with a wet t-shirt. He grumbles about it when he hears giggles.

To his absolute horror, the girls’ volleyball team is filing out of their own locker room and he’s caught with his shirt half-on.

He catches Ashido and Yaoyorozu’s stricken faces, both trying to stifle their laughter as the other girls begin to catcall him.

“Hey, Kaminari! Come here often?”

“Don’t put it on, leave it off, it’s nice outside!”

“Damn, Kaminari, you wash your laundry on those abs?”

“Wow, I heard good things about ya, but I am impressed.” One of the girls approached him, grabbed the towel peeking out of his duffel bag, draping it over his shoulders, pulling him a bit closer to her. He can’t help but be mesmerized. She pulls him to her height, which isn’t all that far, and she winks at him, her voice low and husky, “Clean yourself up, handsome.”

Then she turns and walks toward the court set up for practice. And god behold the shorts volleyball players wear, because her hips are swaying, and her ass is —

“Kaminari,” Yaoyorozu snaps him out of his reverie, and he immediately blushes at being caught. Ashido is giggling behind her hand while Yaoyorozu has her arms crossed, rolling her eyes.

“Jesus, Kaminari, keep it in your pants, why don’t you?” Ashido smirks.

He sticks his tongue out which makes Ashido stomp a foot in his direction, and he’s so momentarily terrified of her that he squeaks and jumps away.

“That’s what I thought!” she crows.

Denki runs away to safety and dinner.

Denki and Jirou are walking from their shared history class to the library when they run into her.

Her being the volleyball player that openly flirted with him the week prior. She’s just as pretty as she was that day, but her silvery-blonde hair is in loose waves and her ice-blue eyes are heavy-lidded as they settle on him from across the hall. She smirks before walking over, and he pays the most attention to the sway in her hips.

“Hey, Kaminari, long time, no see.”

“Y-Yeah, hey.”

“My name’s Sadako. Loni Sadako.”

“Well, Sadako, it’s great to meet you.”

“Hm. Call me Loni.”

Denki flashes her a smirk. “Will do.”

“Is it true you’re hosting a party this weekend?”

Denki winks, “Those rumors are true.”

“Good to know,” she chuckles. “Maybe I’ll swing by?”

“Would love that.”

“See you later, then,” she says. “See ya, Jirou!”

Denki immediately remembers that Jirou is beside him. She’s got a twisted look on her face, as if she’s smelled something really bad, but it softens when she catches his eye.

“So, you know Sadako.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to explain.”

“I’m sure it’s not that hard to explain.”

“It… is weird.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go, then.”

He feels weird about letting her go, so he grabs her wrist as she’s trying to walk away. She stops and turns.

“Aren’t we studying?”

“Ah, right,” she says. “Well, I need some coffee. Want anything?”

“Sure. Iced vanilla latte.”

“Okay, see ya soon.” She turns on her heel and goes to walk away, but Denki holds tightly to her wrist.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You seem… angry?”

“Well, I’m not a huge fan of watching you flirt really badly in front of me. It’s kind of sad.”

He glares. “Damn, alright. I’ll do better.”

“I’d prefer you not,” she retorts. “Let go, I really need some caffeine.”

He releases her wrist, and he stares after her, unable to understand her energy. When she returns, she’s holding two drinks, with a large smile. As if nothing had ever transpired. When he asks about it, she just sips at her drink.

“I really needed some coffee?”

He studies her. “Alright.”

He’s jumping around to the music, throwing his hands up to the beat with Sero when he accidentally knocks into Jirou.

She laughs, instead of glares like she deserved to, steadying herself by grabbing onto his arm. Denki grasps onto her wrist and twirls her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a large hug. She tilts her head back against his chest, sighing. He doesn’t even notice when he starts swaying while she’s in his arms, because she’s watching him with her bright eyes and coy smile, and it distracts him from everything else that could possibly be happening.

She’s tucked under his chin and he’s drunk enough to forget that there’s an entire party around them. She smells like genuine lavender and it’s lulling him into a sense of calm that only she can elicit. She’s hugging his arms as they envelope her, and he feels like he could be here forever.

That is, until the song changes and Sero is literally thrown into them by Kirishima.

“Bros!” Kirishima cheers, forcefully hugging Sero and Denki. Then he gently throws a single arm over Jirou’s shoulder, who is dwarfed against his gigantic frame. Denki tries not to glare when Jirou grins brightly at the redhead. They’re talking to one another, and for some reason, they look really cozy. Denki takes a large gulp of his drink, his eyes never straying from them.

Then Ashido comes up from behind Kirishima, launching herself onto his back, and he’s ripped away from Jirou with a guffaw. Jirou takes a step away, but when she turns back to Denki, he’s already walked away.

He stands in his kitchen, hands on the counter, debating his next drink. He’s chugged the last of his rum and coke and he is craving something else. But what?

He thinks he’s there for too long when someone tugs at his shirt. He turns to see the girl he’d met when he was with Jirou the other day. Loni?

“Hey, you!” she’s smiling at him, her eyes heavy as she sidles up closer.

“Hey,” he replies, deciding that maybe he didn’t need something at this very moment. “Glad to see you were able to make it.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see you, here in your prime.”

He snorts, because he’s definitely not in his prime. He’s been staring at the options for alcohol for well over ten minutes. He’s drunk as all hell. She laughs, too, and leaves his side to make them drinks.

“I figured you needed some help,” she grins.

“You are my savior,” he says, sincerely.

She brings it to him, pressing herself against him as he leans his back against the counter. He’s only vaguely aware of the way it digs into his lower back, because Loni is practically settled between his legs. She rises up on her toes and whispers something in his ear. He doesn’t even really know what she says to him, because he’s focused on the way she’s rubbing her body against him, how hot her breath is in his ear, how warm it’s suddenly becoming.

He tries to keep himself together, controlling the urge to grip her up and give in to the hormones.

Which is a garbage attempt, because she’s holding onto his hips and literally whispering into his neck. He shivers. She’s trying to grind into him, her voice is husky and hypnotic, and instinctively, his free hand makes its way to rest on her lower back.

But a loud cheer from the living room makes Denki look up to see what the commotion is. He sees Bakugou down on one knee chugging a bottle of something while Kirishima and Sero yell for him to go! go! go! And when Loni’s hand begins to sneak down his outer thigh, is when his breath catches.

His eyes meet a pair of curious, amethyst ones, ones that are boring into the kitchen. It’s like she’s not even really seeing him, because she jolts when she realizes that he’s watching her. She looks embarrassed that she’s been caught, her face contorting into a surprised expression. She looks away for a moment, and he freezes because he’s never seen her this twitchy before. But eventually, she meets his eyes again and shoots him an acknowledging smile. It’s one of her softer ones, the one that she usually shoots at people she doesn’t know very well. It’s not one he sees very often, so he’s a bit thrown.

Then she’s knocked out of his line of sight — accidentally pushed in the commotion of the party. There’s a loud yell, followed with laughter, and Kirishima is pulling her to her feet. She’s laughing hard, looking so delighted as she lets Sero twirl her from her initial position. Then she’s shoved into Bakugou, who looks less annoyed than usual, glaring down at her as he mouths something that surprises her.

He tries to focus on the lips on his neck and the warmth of the girl willing to hook up, instead of the girl he’s crushing on in the arms of a teammate. But there’s something about her interaction with Bakugou that makes him feel like he needs to watch. The song changes to something slower, prompting Bakugou to start swaying with her. Her head rests against his chest, until he says something that makes her jump back and look directly into his eyes. She’s glaring at him, but he’s smirking down at her. They’re close. Almost as close as he is with Loni. But for some reason, Loni’s not enough distraction to make him look away.

The last thing he remembers is the hesitant, reluctant way Jirou’s gaze makes its way back to Denki’s.

He hasn’t seen her in a few days. Nothing crazy, but she’s missed the class they shared. If she didn’t show up the next day, he feels obligated to really check in on her.

Loni didn’t work out.

She was fun for the night, to make out with and nothing more, but the sober conversation that followed was lackluster.

He catches Jirou walking out of the arts building, as he’s on his way to the library, her hair blowing around her face as she starts texting. She actually glares down at it, turning huffily back to the doors she just exited. But then Shinsou swings the door open with a smirk while Jirou jumps in surprise. She takes a second to collect herself before shoving her phone into his face.

Denki can’t really tell what Shinsou feels about whatever is on Jirou’s screen, but he does catch the roll of his eyes.

He feels awkward, watching them, so he pauses by a trashcan to mess around on his phone, hoping to catch them as they walk by.

“I don’t know why you’re humoring her, Kyo.”

“Well, Toshi, you try telling your mother no.”

“I do it all the time.”

“You do not, you pussy.”

“I tell your mom no.”

“My mother doesn’t demand you go on a blind date with someone from work!”

“Well, Auntie knows I have game, so it would be weird if she did that.”

“Hitoshi!”

“Hey, guys.”

Jirou screams, sending the things in her arms flying. Denki grins as he catches the books and her phone with separate hands.

“Were you just waiting in the bushes to scare us like that?”

“No, I’m headed to the library.”

“You bastard,” she mumbles.

“Hm?” Denki grins. “Say that again?”

She stamps her foot and marches up to him, her face inches away as she enunciates, “You. Are. A. Bastard!”

Her irritation is cute and she’s so tiny that he’s unphased, smirking down at her. She scrunches up her face the longer he stares down at her.

“Cute.”

She looks surprised for a moment, but it turns into exasperation when he literally boops the tip of her nose.

“Kaminari!”

“Alright, cuz, time to go.”

“Huh?” Jirou says, turning around. Denki tilts his head in confusion.

“Time to go, Kyo.” Shinsou is pushing her forward with an open palm to her shoulder. He shoots Jirou a look that Denki doesn’t understand, and it makes Jirou deflate a bit before she turns her head and smiles brightly at him.

“I’ll see ya later, Pikachu.”

“See ya, Kaminari,” Shinsou says quickly, waving behind him.

Denki is left walking to the library on his own, the whole exchange echoing in his mind.

She shows up to class the next day, greeting him with a bright smile.

He grins back and plops down beside her.

“So, we gotta work on our project soon, okay?”

“Sure, dude. Tonight?”

“You don’t have anything to do?”

“Nah. Had morning workout.”

“And you’ve got no other obligations?”

“Why, do you?”

“No,” she replies, chewing her lip. She logs into her computer and pretends like she doesn’t see Denki watching her closely.

“Then, tonight. Yours or mine?”

“Ah, yours. Momo’s got a date tonight and I’m not trying to awkwardly exist in the same space.”

“Alrighty.” He rests his face in his palm, watching her some more. She’s being weird and he’s about to ask why.

“You sure you don’t have anything to do later?” she blurts out. He grins because he was right.

“I really don’t have anything going on. Not that I know of, anyway. Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

“It’s just…” She stops typing and turns to him. She looks distressed. “I ran into Sadako earlier and she said she was going to ask you out tonight. So, I’m just making sure that I’m not pulling you away from that.”

“Oh.” His brows furrow. He remembers her asking him to hang out earlier, but he hadn’t really wanted to. “I, uh, said no.”

“Oh,” she says. “Sorry?”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then don’t say sorry.”

“Sorry!”

He’s grinning even wider now, because his teasing is making her flush.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Kaminari!”

“Shh, Jirou, class is starting.”

He turns away from her, as if he’s really admonishing her. She swats at him, cheeks still red.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

“Sure,” he replies, winking at her when she huffs.

They’ve been sprawled out in the living room for a couple of hours now, and Denki’s four beers deep while Jirou’s more than halfway through a bottle of red blend that Sero offered her before he left for the gym. Their project was going well, but for the last hour, they’ve been watching old compilation videos of memes on YouTube.

It’s a Thursday, so Denki posits it’s appropriate to be accidentally drunk. Jirou had agreed. Loudly.

“I just think that the classics are the best,” she says, giggling into her wineglass. “Like ‘No head?’ Snapping the skateboard? Gold.”

“But there are new memes, Jirou!”

“Come on. The girl in the tub?! Her friend says, ‘She’s drunk as fuck!’ in the background and she says she’s ‘washing me and my clothes! Come on. Classic.”

“New. Memes. Jirou.”

She’s about to say something else when Sero bursts through the door with Bakugou and Kirishima in tow. “We need the television!” Sero booms.

Jirou squeaks and grabs her wineglass before the men can crush it somehow. Sero picks up the bottle of wine tentatively, snorting when he weighs it in his hand.

“Damn, Jirou, you made quick work of this.”

“Did not!”

“Oh, alright,” Sero snorts. He grabs the remote and changes the channel to something that Denki doesn’t catch because Jirou is packing her stuff up and Denki really doesn’t want her to leave. It’s the first day in a lot of days that he’s been able to see her, and he’s kinda drunk, so everything seems like it’d be more fun.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Well, did you want to keep doing our project?”

“Well, yeah, kinda. The sooner the better!”

She throws her glass back and gulps it down. She smiles at him and darts past him to his bedroom, giggling the whole way.

“Project, huh?” Bakugou snorts.

“We have a history project!” he retorts. Bakugou and Kirishima are throwing back their heads and guffawing at Denki’s defensiveness.

Sero, however, grins evilly as he shoots him a look. “Jirou’s out of his league.”

“Hey!”

“Aren’t you with that other girl, anyway? The one from the party?”

“Who?”

“Dude, everyone saw you,” Kirishima laughs.

“Yeah, she saw you, too,” Bakugou adds. “Choose one, man. And choose wisely. And I mean Jirou. Shinsou would like a word if you don’t.”

“Is that why he was so weird the other day?! He thinks I led her on or something? Well, that’s bullshit, we’re friends.”

“Dude… There’s been a ton of mixed signals. At least that’s how it looks to all of us on the outside.”

“Mixed signals?”

“Oh my god.”

“Tell me what you mean!”

“No,” Kirishima groans. Bakugou and Sero are shaking their heads, looking about as exasperated as Denki is incensed. But as angry and confused as he is, he’s trying his best not to be loud. This conversation is about her and she’s maybe ten feet away.

“Just tell us what happened with the other girl.”

“Sadako? We just didn’t mesh. Haven’t even seen her since Saturday.”

“Oka-ay,” Sero taunts.

“Dude!”

“Mhm,” Kirishima hums.

“It’s not like that!”

“Maybe to you,” Bakugou mutters.

“I’m gonna go. You guys don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“True!” Sero cheers.

It leaves a sour taste in Denki’s mouth, but when he opens his bedroom door, it disappears, immediately placated by how cute she is. She’s laying diagonally on his bed, papers strewn around her, propped on her elbows as she types on her computer. She’d been wearing leggings and a hoodie when she first came over, but she’d discarded the hoodie, revealing a crop top that exposed the slim curve of her spine. She looks so natural in this state: her legs swinging back and forth, humming a song he didn’t recognize.

“Hey,” he whispers, closing the door behind him gently.

She turns her head and smiles at him, her eyes on the pinker side of purple, her cheeks rosy with intoxication.

“Hey,” she replies. She must not realize how seductive she looks, Denki muses. Or she underestimates how perverted he can be. Because he believes he could absolutely come home to her in his bed every day. Fuck what everyone had thought about he and Sadako. Jirou is superior. The ultimate woman. His ideal partner.

But now she’s just watching him, like he’s some kind of psychotic killer.

Awesome.

“Are… you coming?”

He stutters, “Yeah!” He pulls his desk chair over to the bed and plops in front of her, pulling his notebook from her pile of papers and beginning to read from it.

By the time they’d completed a wordy, unreviewed presentation, Jirou’s bottle laid empty on the floor, and Denki’s sixth beer is in the trash — they turn to more compilations and commentary videos. She shows him her favorite music theorist, and he shows her this British guy that’s building a tunnel beneath his house to his workshop. They lay side-by-side, laughing and sharing secrets.

They’re drunk and giggling and teasing each other.

He doesn’t remember ever feeling so happy and light-hearted.

She’s telling him she’s cold. He tells her to get under the blanket. She does.

“I’m still cold,” she groans.

“C’mere,” he slurs, wrapping her up in his arms.

“You’re moving the blankie!”

“Oh my god, so picky,” he gripes, sliding under it with her. He bearhugs her once more, and she sighs, dramatically.

“So warm,” she hums.

She falls asleep nearly immediately.

He can’t laugh because it’ll wake her up, but it’s not unexpected. He releases her in carefully executed stages, eventually turning his back to her sleeping form. He’s gonna play around on his phone and then he’ll move to the couch, but he’s actually quite comfortable… It’s his bed after all.

He wakes with a jolt, because a small arm is thrown over his waist. He’s little-spooning and he’s in love.

Jirou smells like wine and flowers and she’s so warm as she nuzzles her face into his back. There’s a small purr followed by an attempt to tug him backward, but their drastic size difference makes it so that she pulls herself toward him, instead. She grumbles. Sighs. Then her breathing evens.

He imagines he’s dreaming.

“Kaminari! Dude! Wake up!”

Denki is startled out of sleep, his heart racing and pounding against his chest. It takes him a moment to place the voice, but it’s Sero. He scurries out of the bed, or tries to, his foot catching in the blankets, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

“Motherfucker, what the fuck, Sero, why the fuck —”

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Pikachu? I could have switched ya, ya know.”

He had finally gotten to his feet, but when he heard Jirou’s sarcasm he promptly collapsed onto his face.

“Dude, we gotta get to class, are you seriously still not up?!”

Denki mumbles into the blanket his face is smushed into. He hears the door swing open and his heart drops as he remembers that Jirou is right here, in his bed, having stayed the night, and oh god, she must be mortified —

“Hey, Sero. Good luck with that one, he’s a mess.”

He yanks himself out of the cocoon he’d created, falling onto his ass. Jirou bids him a half-hearted goodbye as she traipses out of their house.

Denki catches Sero’s mile-wide grin as the front door slams shut. He is thriving.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, dude?”

“Don’t say anything.”

“Well, I do gotta ask — was this what it looks like?”

“No!”

“Jirou winked me at me on the way out. Are you sure?”

“She… did… what?!” Denki chokes on his spit. He groans, loudly, throwing his arms about. “I don’t think I can make it to class, man.”

“Oh, come on, you simp, change your t-shirt and let’s go! We’ll talk about Jirou later.”

“I’d really, really prefer we didn’t.”

He buries his face in his hands when they finally make it through morning classes and to lunch in one of the dining halls. They usually share this time with Kirishima and Ashido. The latter of which is studying him without abandon.

“What’s up his butt?” she asks, tossing a fry in his direction. It hits his hands, but he just can’t be bothered to move.

“Dunno,” Sero replies, nonchalantly.

Is he not going to tell —? Was Sero the best bro of all bros?

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Jirou slept over last night and he’s still reeling from it.”

Fuck.

Ashido gasps, inhaling a fry, choking loudly. Kirishima begins to bang her on the back with a fist, and once it’s dislodged, Ashido puts a hand to his shoulder to let him know she’s alright. But then she tries to take another breath and goes into another coughing fit.

“She — finally — did — it!” Ashido finally chokes out.

“Did what?” Denki moans.

Ashido is still coughing. Sero offers her water.

“Yeah, I dunno what you’re talking about,” Denki continues. “We got drunk last night doing our history project and we fell asleep. Then Sero wakes me up for class and she’s caught and she’s probably so embarrassed and mad at me — what?”

All three of his lunchmates are staring at him, wide-eyed, jaws dropped.

“What?! Did she say something? Is she mad at me? I should have moved to the couch, god I’m the worst —”

“Are you… Uh… What’s your GPA, Kaminari?” Ashido queries.

“I dunno. 3.5?”

“So, you’re not stupid,” she clarifies.

“Just because he can pass a test doesn’t mean he’s not stupid, Ashido,” Kirishima states.

“Yeah, book smart doesn’t mean shit,” Sero agrees.

“Hey! What are you on about!?”

They don’t answer him. His cheeks are hot, and he can feel the irritation simmering beneath his skin. He glares at his friends, expecting one of them to crack. They don’t.

“Hey, fuckfaces, can someone let me in on the little joke? This isn’t funny anymore.”

Ashido sighs, considering Denki with a stink-eye. Sero shrugs. Kirishima shrugs, too.

“Alright, fuck this.”

Denki starts to gather his things when a delicate hand falls onto his forearm.

Ashido is patting it as some sort of comfort measure.

“We… shouldn’t be the ones to tell you, okay? But I think you need to find Jirou after today’s done and talk to her.”

“Is she that mad at me?”

“The opposite, I think.”

“Unhelpful, Ashido.”

“Hey!” Denki spots a head of wavy violet hair, approximately twenty feet in front of him in the hallways. He’s not bright, though, because nearly ten heads turn to his vague call, but not hers. “Jirou!”

She turns, scowling because someone bumps into her as she does, but upon spotting Denki, immediately brightens. She moves toward him, his favorite smile on her face. She must have been able to go home between this morning and now, because she’s freshly showered with a new outfit on. Ugh, god, and it’s a loose top that falls off her shoulders and highlights her sharp collarbones and — this is not the time!

“What are you doing later?”

“Later?”

“Yeah, like, after classes.”

“I’m actually done for the day.”

He was not prepared for that.

“Oh. Uh. Wanna hang out?” he asks, awkwardness seeping through his pores.

She tilts her head, studying him. “Sure. You alright?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“You don’t seem alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She reaches for his cheek but he’s so nervous he flinches. She recoils, taking her hand back, hurt. He wants to reach back for her hand and just hold it, honestly.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“For what? Pikachu, are you okay?” She takes a step forward, grabbing his bicep and pulling him to the side of the hallway, out of everyone’s way. She leans against the wall, her amethyst eyes filled with concern, darting around his face, eyebrows furrowing. He doesn’t like this expression. She’s so worried.

“I’m fine — I just — can we talk later?”

Her face falls momentarily, then she says with a coy smile, “You breaking up with me or somethin’?”

He chokes and begins coughing on his spit.

“Oh god, Kaminari, tell me, what is wrong!? You’re really starting to scare me. You’re being super weird.”

He can’t do this. Not now. She’s too pretty, too caring, too close. Her skin actually glows in this terrible fluorescent lighting, her eyes brilliant and roaming his face. She steps even closer, her hand reaching for his cheek again. When it reaches his cheek, his face immediately warms, and his nerves are shot. He can’t help it, he leans into her touch, and she’s smiling softly.

“You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can we talk now?”

“N-No. Meet me later? My place? Maybe 7?”

She frowns, letting her hand drop. God, smile again, please, smile. He wishes he could just man up and grab her up, kiss her until she gets it, and definitely not run away afterward if she doesn’t. Or maybe just run away in general.

“You know I hate this. I hate that you’re being so cryptic and weird, and I have to wait another —” she checks her watch, “— five hours until you can tell me what the hell is going on.” She’s glaring at him and he shivers in fear.

But he can’t talk to her in the now empty hallway of the humanities building! He wants to be able to be affectionate! Or at least have some fuckin’ privacy…

“I — I can’t.”

“Whatever, Pikachu. See you later, I guess.” She turns on her heel, violently so, her hair whipping him in the face. He’d be annoyed if her hair didn’t smell so goddamn good. He also sniffed the air, inadvertently loudly.

She stops, looking over her shoulder. “Did you just smell my hair?”

He freezes. “No!”

He sprints.

She tries to kick down his bedroom door around 6:30 pm. She’s wearing a cropped hoodie, workout leggings and sneakers.

“If you don’t tell me what the hell’s going on right now, I swear to god, Kaminari, I’m gonna use you as a punching bag.”

He squeaks, telling himself not to dive beneath his blankets because that would absolutely not be manly and he’s trying to convince her to maybe consider dating him.

She’s fuming. And she’s hot as hell.

Not the time, goddamnit.

“You’re hot,” he blurts.

What the fuck?!

“I’m… what?” she crosses her arms, the action pulling her hoodie up, revealing her flat stomach and the high waist of her leggings.

Be fucking normal, Denki.

“You look hot.”

Goddamnit!

She shifts her weight onto one hip, still glowering.

“Don’t make fun of me, I ran here because I’m mad at you. Of course, I look hot.”

What?!

“What?!”

Oh good, listening to himself now.

“You’re making fun of how sweaty I am!”

“I am not!”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“You look hot!”

“I know! I ran here!”

“No! Like, gorgeous! Sexy! Attractive! What is the matter with you!”

“What’s the matter with me? You’re the one that made me wait five hours for you to tell me something, which by the way, is incredibly rude when my anxiety is already sky fucking high because of you —”

“Because of me?!”

“Yeah, you little shit! I slept over last night and we fucking cuddled and then you come up to me in a building where I know you don’t have class to say, ‘we need to talk,’ like come on — what do you think a girl’s gonna think?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Well, let me tell you! It makes me think that you regret cuddling me, which would fucking suck because I —” her jaw snaps shut and she goes absolutely still. “Did you just call me gorgeous?”

“Yeah!” He notes his tone is aggressive, but he’s too riled up and adrenaline is racing through his veins. “Yeah, I fucking did!”

“And what are your thoughts on last night?”

“It was nice!”

“Nice?” Her eyes narrow.

“Yeah! Nice! You smell good and are warm and little and Ialso  like being the goddamn little spoon!”

He hears Sero walk by to his room and mutter, “Jesus Christ, dude.” He chooses to ignore it, and Jirou doesn’t even hear it, now that she’s yelling again.

“Then why are you acting so fucking weird right now!”

“Because I don’t want you to think I took advantage of your drunken affections!”

“Have you ever considered I may have wanted to cuddle?! That I’d hoped any of this would happen?!”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“Because I’m me! And you’re you!”

“What’s that fucking mean, Kaminari?!”

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Sero mutters again.

“Shut up Sero!” they chorus. Sero scampers away, giggling sheepishly.

“Tell me!” she takes a step closer to him. “Tell me what you mean by that!”

“I mean — look at you! And then look at me!”

“You’d better clarify before you get your ass kicked!”

“You’re fucking perfect and I’m actual fucking garbage!”

She chokes.

“Yeah! Like them apples?! You’re so fucking cool and I’m a giant idiot and you smell like lavender and you’re so fucking pretty and I’m just lucky to be your friend and I don’t want you to think that I’m just some dude, I want you to look at me the way I look at you!”

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” Denki breathes.

She has this look of absolute shock on her face, and her arms drop to her sides. She looks like she’s going to bolt, and Denki would definitely understand because he’s unloaded all of his pining feelings in record time.

“Welp, I’m gonna go jump out a window.”

“Probably a good idea!” Sero pokes his head in with a grin.

“Fuck off!” Denki screeches, making Sero scurry away. Jirou takes a step toward him and Denki flinches.

“You are… a bigger idiot than you give yourself credit for.”

He growls. “Okay, well at least I can fucking admit —”

She leaps forward, grasping his face with her lithe fingers and pressing her lips to his.

If Denki had to die, he could die now, and die happily.

“You’re so dumb,” she whispers into his mouth. He wants to retort defensively, but she’s bewitched him again with her kiss of life and he can’t help but wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against him. He feels her tilting her head to deepen the kiss and one of her hands move to his hair, the other wrapping around his shoulders. She’s on her tip toes and Denki grabs her thighs beneath her ass to lift her to his height, and she squeaks before wrapping her legs around his waist. He’s ready to throw her onto the bed when he hears slow clapping.

They stop kissing to seek out the sound, finding Sero with a shit-eating grin, clapping slowly in the doorway.

“What a show, guys, what a show.”

“Get out of here, Sero!”