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Denki has had a crush on Jirou since she made fun of his post-electrocution state back in their first year. He doesn’t know why he’s into girls that are mean to him, because Jirou is mean to him. She’s weird, too, always blushing and shy about things that she should be proud of — like her musical prowess. If he tells her that she did well at something, she tells him to shut up and practically shoves him out of her way. Once in the field, she’d saved him by yanking him out of the way of a curb-riding sedan. He’d thanked her profusely and all she said was, “keh.” Like she was Bakugou or something.
Which, speaking of, Bakugou is leaning into her space, mumbling something that makes her eyes widen. She laughs, a short burst of the cutest honk, before stifling it. Bakugou says something else, that makes her snort and slap at his arm. They’re in class, but seats are set up lecture-style, to accommodate Class B, too.
Denki tries not to glower, but it’s inevitable. Bakugou and Jirou have been growing closer and closer these days, since they got paired up on assignment during their internships. Denki is wholeheartedly, unabashedly jealous, and he wishes he were the one cracking jokes in Jirou’s ear. But no. Bakugou, who’s got everything he could ever ask for and more — seemingly now also has Jirou, perfection extraordinaire, giggling at his jokes in class.
Denki huffs, irritated. He crosses his arms across his chest and is definitely manspreading, much to Ashido’s dismay. Ashido knees his leg back into his space, but then leans closer, concerned.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
He straightens out and pulls his knees together. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You don’t look good. You look sick. Or mad. Or both.”
“I’m fine,” he replies, forcing his gaze away from Jirou.
“Mhm.” She does not believe him.
Class is over before he knows it, and it’s an internship afternoon or free study. Usually, if Denki and Jirou are free together, Denki would show up to her room with a guitar in hand and hope for an evening together. He’d knock and grin brightly at her, and she’d roll her eyes as she leaned on the edge of the door. He’d pout, making big puppy eyes, and she’d give in, with a laugh and semi-insult.
But Jirou’s walking out with Bakugou and it hurts.
He decides that despite knowing Jirou’s free that he’s not going to stand in the way of Bakugou and Jirou’s budding romance.
Later, when he’s sulking in his bedroom with his guitar in his lap, strumming absently to a poem in his head, it hits him that even if Jirou is dating Bakugou, he doesn’t want to lose her as a friend. She’s the only person that invests time in him. She ensures he’s confident (as best as she can, anyway) before exams, forces him to study with the promise of takeout, teaches his sorry ass guitar to create a creative outlet unrelated to Hero work so he doesn’t lose his goddamn mind. She’s too good a friend to lose.
This realization hits him so hard he leaps off his bed, nearly dropping the guitar. He squeaks and fumbles with it, somehow launching it back to safety before it could hit the floor. He lets out a breath he was most definitely holding, chest heaving as he sags in relief.
“That was quite the show.”
He screams, high-pitched and terrified, which makes Jirou’s smirk turn into a full-blown grin.
“And that was quite an encore.”
“Don’t you knock?” He feels his face catching fire.
“I did, but then I heard commotion and I busted in, thinking you were hurt.” She grins again. “Little did I know, I caught the show.”
“Damnit, Jirou!”
She giggles, covering her mouth with one hand, and Denki can’t stop but gush internally at how damn cute she is.
“You okay, now?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”
“You sure? You didn’t come and get me for lessons.”
He feels sheepish; embarrassed. He knows he was sulking like a child when he hid himself in his room, and Jirou’s dark eyes aren’t budging. He scratches the back of his head and shifts his gaze to the ceiling. He laughs, choppy and awkwardly.
“I forgot you were free today.”
She studies him a moment longer, eventually shrugging and swings her guitar from her back to the front.
“Whatever, weirdo, I guess you just don’t care about me enough to remember.”
There’s a hint of a smile in her voice and when he glances at her, she’s trying really hard not to show it. Denki pouts.
“So mean.”
“Me? Mean? I thought you’d ditched me for a date or something. Aren’t you seeing that girl from —”
“No.” His reply is curt; short of incredulous. He doesn’t remember the last time he flirted with someone, let alone go on a date with them. His free time is filled with studying, workouts or internships. Any other free time is sleep or Jirou. It would be nice if he could combine those… Sleep… with Jirou —
“Oh. Well. Good, then. Don’t forget next time, or else you’ll never play like me,” she says, plopping onto his bed.
It shouldn’t be hot that she’s so familiar with his room. Especially when she reaches behind the bedframe to grab the phone charger in one swift movement and plugs it in. Something about feeling comfortable, he thinks. It shouldn’t be hot that she knows where everything is. Then again, everything with Jirou is… hot.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
Denki’s startled out of his daydream by Uraraka’s question. She’s not even talking to him, but rather to Ashido. They’re both stretching because they’re up next for the obstacle course run and oh shit, Denki’s supposed to be stretching too.
He searches for who Uraraka is talking about but stops dead when he sees them. It’s Jirou, Bakugou and Midoriya, all whispering to one another, heatedly. Bakugou looks livid, glaring at Midoriya, like always. But this time, there’s a legitimate hatred to it. Midoriya, to his credit, isn’t giving in. He’s glaring just as spitefully, the telltale sign of his Black Whip emanating from his fingertips. They’re literally shooting fire at each other via their eyes and Jirou is sighing defeatedly before stepping between them. She’s facing Midoriya, with Bakugou hovering over her shoulder. He tries to push past her, but she stops him by swinging her hips when she steps out to block him from reaching Midoriya. She leans forward to Midoriya and hisses something at him, only to get something biting enough to get Bakugou to try and reach over her shoulder to push at him. Midoriya stands his ground, glowering over Jirou's head at Bakugou, while she pushes Bakugou backward.
They haven’t argued like this in ages, Denki realizes.
Uraraka echoes this thought.
“I dunno, looks serious, though,” Ashido replies, unaffected.
Uraraka hums and shrugs. “Deku will tell me eventually.”
It’s not the fight that has Denki's attention. It’s how Jirou and Bakugou interact that piques his interest. Bakugou is still pressed up close to her, and he’s murmuring something over her shoulder. She’s leaning up to glare at him and retort. He drops his head on her shoulder and she leans her head against his other shoulder. She says something that ends in a sigh, which just receives a growl from Bakugou. They’re so close. They’re too close. Denki feels his chest tighten and his heart quicken.
Jirou spins around suddenly, Bakugou’s head falling forward until she grips his shoulders and shakes him a bit. There’s a quick exchange between them that ends with Bakugou smirking at her and reaching for her with grabby hands. Jirou squeals, trying to bolt, but she’s too slow. Bakugou has her wrapped in his arms before she knows it. Her jacks elongate and stab him in the arms, but he only guffaws at the weak attack. He lets go and she’s bright red, reprimanding him. It’s usually cute, but Denki’s heart has sunken into his stomach. All he feels is annoyance, jealousy, and hurt.
He knew this was a possibility, but actually seeing it?
Worse.
“They’re touchy, aren’t they?”
Denki is too forlorn to be surprised by Kirishima’s sudden presence. He’s grinning, but his smile is forced. Denki thinks his crush must more obvious than he initially believed if Kirishima feels like he has to say something.
He tries not to look so pathetic when he mumbles, “Yeah. Looks it.”
He dominates the obstacle course. Well, he fails it overall, because he didn’t work with his group, Ashido and Uraraka, who are absolutely peeved at him now. Even Aizawa had to hand it to him; he’d finished without a scratch on him in record time. But now he’s got to make up for his failure and complete an extra assignment on the importance of teamwork.
He knows he’s uncharacteristically pissed off, because Ashido, who can be loudmouthed and opinionated, especially with someone she considers a close friend, isn’t approaching him at all. She glares at him, sure. But the entire reprimand was nonverbal.
He’s throwing shit into his go-bag, pissed he has to cut his hours to complete this makeup assignment, all because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check.
Denki has known, oh he’s known, that he’s had a crush on Jirou for years, now. But this is the first time it’s gotten in the way of school. He’s got other shit to worry about; he’s not a good student in the first place, he can’t just let shit stop him from doing his best. He has to graduate, has to become Pro, has to help save the world.
Just because he’s in love with someone he can’t have doesn’t mean his entire life is over.
Gods, he’s in love with her.
He’s eighteen and in fucking love with Kyouka Jirou.
And she is dating Bakugou.
He’s trying so hard to ignore the strain in his chest that he’s actually reading the text of the Japanese Hero Bylaws. It’s almost mind numbing, but the prose is so arbitrarily flowery it forces him to focus on comprehending what the fuck the laws even are. He’s knee-deep in the legal process of government-funded rebuilding of Hero-destroyed housing, and he thinks he’s going to combust. He feels a headache coming on, and he knows it’s one that’s going to stress him out enough to create static within his immediate vicinity. He needs to relax. Or go outside and become a human lightning rod.
He checks his blinds.
Clear night sky.
Fuck.
A knock at the door makes him jump, and the movement itself creates enough static electricity to shock his finger. He growls, irritated. He’s got to fucking get it together. He swings the door open, grimacing when the metal door handle shocks him, too. His expression doesn’t change when he sees Kirishima and Sero, but it does falter for a moment.
“What’s up?”
“You okay, bro?” Sero asks.
“Yeah. ‘M fine.”
“You’re not and that’s okay,” Kirishima assures. “You don’t gotta tell us what’s going on, but I know what you need.”
“A drink?” Denki mumbles.
“The opposite! A workout! A Kirishima special!”
“Which means you’re gonna be in too much physical pain to feel any emotional pain,” Sero adds, groaning. “I don’t know why I’m even doing this —”
“Let’s go!” Kirishima yanks him by the wrist, dragging him out of the building. He looks to Sero for help, but he shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, ambling behind.
Of course, when they pass through the living room, it’s Bakugou and Midoriya that take up the couch. Their earlier dispute must have been resolved, because they’re pouring over textbooks and mumbling to themselves. Uraraka sits in an armchair, sideways, her legs thrown over one side, reading a magazine and offhandedly refereeing the boys if they do start to argue.
“Where are you guys going?” Midoriya notices them, looking up.
Uraraka turns her head. “And why do you look like you’re on a mission?”
“We just need a workout!” Kirishima sings, literally darting for the door, without looking at anyone sitting.
“Shouldn’t you go?” Midoriya says pointedly to Bakugou, an unexplainable edge to his voice. As if the fight they had earlier was going to reignite. Denki hopes to the high heavens that Bakugou refuses —
“Nah. I’m good. Gotta wait for Jirou.”
Kirishima is ten feet outdoors by now. It is curious, though, that Bakugou isn't participating. But he can't ask Kirishima because he's gone.
Denki wants to fucking vomit. Before he’s fully out the door, he hears Midoriya whisper, “You’re a fucking asshole.”
Denki is inclined to agree.
When they return, Denki’s glistening with sweat, intermittently dry heaving from the cardio circuit Kirishima devised. Sero is groaning, but Kirishima looks rejuvenated. The workout did its job — Denki feels better and is less frustrated. But his heart sinks to his toes when he enters and sees Jirou on the couch, curled up with a blanket, knees to her chest, staring wide-eyed at the television. Simultaneously, he finds she’s adorable when she’s wrapped up this way, thrown over her head and hugging herself.
He knows it’s dumb, because Bakugou and Jirou absolutely have a thing going on, but all he wants to do is plop down beside her and tease her with how gross and sweaty he is. He can even hear what her reaction would be, squealing and complaining about how sticky he is and how badly he smells when he tries to tackle her in a hug.
He hates that his heart hurts so much. Especially when she turns her head and sees all three stumbling back to the dorm, her face lighting up at their entrance. He wonders if she’s expecting him to tease her. He wonders if she’s realized that they haven’t spent any time together today. He wonders if she feels as empty as he does when he realizes how much he depends on her presence for fulfillment.
Sero is the first to greet her, because Denki is too overwhelmed by these dumb feelings to acknowledge her. He notes that Kirishima’s just as quiet. Luckily, Sero is making up for both of them.
She’s smiling at him now.
“Join me?” she asks, her dark eyes pleading.
It hurts too much, he thinks. It would probably do more damage than repair on his fragile little heart. What he hates more is the sudden appearance of Bakugou as he hops off the stairs and heads straight for them.
Denki tries to keep his voice from cracking.
“I should shower,” he laughs, awkwardly, running his fingers through his wet hair. “I probably stink.”
He wants to pretend that her gaze is imploring him to stay, to tease her and laugh with her. But as Bakugou nears, he just — can’t.
“I’ll catch ya later, okay?” he tries, willing desperately for this entire conversation to end, and quickly. He sees her smile drop for a moment, but it just shifts, to something softer and more understanding.
He doesn’t want to look at her beautiful eyes anymore, so he turns quickly and speed walks toward the staircase. He also doesn’t want to see Bakugou interact any more with her, especially when he hears from behind him, his gruff demand: “Yo, I need to talk to you.”
Yeah, he should probably inform his girlfriend that she can’t just casually hang out with dumb losers on her own anymore.
It’s inappropriate. Especially if said dumb loser is horrifically, devastatingly in love with her.
Bakugou and Kirishima don’t seem to be speaking, which explains his rush out the door when they went to work out.
Denki guesses that’s why Kirishima was mad enough to try and kill them all by cardio. The two have been ‘best friend close’ since their first year. They must have had some sort of argument, because Bakugou looks particularly irritated as he throws his tray down beside Jirou and Yaoyorozu, completely ignoring their usual table.
Kirishima blocks his view, turning his back on Bakugou, sitting in front of Denki.
“Hey.”
“Hey?”
Kirishima attempts to gather his tumbling sandwich with his hands, but when a tomato slice slips onto the tray, he looks like he’s going to throw the sandwich across the cafeteria.
“Dude?”
“Yeah?” It’s more of a grunt than a word.
“What’s wrong?”
Kirishima sighs. His gaze checks his surroundings before settling intensely on Denki.
“I just… I just hate when I don’t know what’s going on.”
Denki grins, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, man, that’s my specialty. How can I help?”
“What do you think… is going on with Jirou and Bakugou?”
Denki’s grin falls. “I don’t know.”
“When we got back last night, he came up to me and said he needed to talk to me. I said, sure, because why not. But then he looked at Jirou. Like he was looking at me but talking to her. We got in an argument about something, something I don’t even remember, now, but I thought he was going to apologize. He just… ignored me. Pointedly.”
Denki tilts his head.
“I just. He’s been with her all week and I think —”
“That they’re dating?”
A beat of silence. Then, “Yeah.”
Denki wants to not hurt as much as he does. He doesn’t want the hollow feeling in his stomach to be so damn heavy that it feels like he’s falling through the floor.
“Do you think they are?”
Time to face it. The music. The devastation. The heartbreak. He just murmurs, “Seems like it.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
Denki sputters, choking on his drink. It’s carbonated, so it burns everywhere.
“Yeah. You do.”
He gasps for a breath as he gets out, “Is it obvious?”
Kirishima just shakes his head. “I just… know. I’m not thrilled about it either.”
Denki’s stomach drops yet again. Did Kirishima like Jirou too? In that case, Denki has absolutely zero chance with Jirou because both Bakugou and Kirishima? Vying for her attention? Denki is sure he’s a -200 on the scale of desirability compared to those two. They’re too hot, too smart, too talented —
Oh no. Do I like them too?
Nah. All things aside, Denki has real feelings for Jirou. He has friendly feelings for Bakugou and Kirishima.
But he decides that if Shinsou was ever interested —
Not. The. Time.
He shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of wild, rampant thoughts. He’s got enough on his place as is. Self-confidence is something he’s always projected, but hardly ever internalized.
Kirishima stares blankly down at his plate. The sandwich lies there, half-toppled over. He reaches for his drink instead.
“He just used to choose me, you know? And sure, if he doesn’t want to date me – not that I’ve asked – he’s free to date whoever. I just. I don’t know I guess I thought there were vibes. But I don’t even know if he’s attracted to men. And, I guess, this means he’s not. Now, I have an entirely different issue.”
Denki blinks. Once. Twice.
Well, now it all makes sense.
He doesn’t know what to say. So he opts for: “I’m sorry, dude. I… don’t think that anything I could say right now would take away how shitty this feels.”
Kirishima shoots him an uneasy gaze. “I just feel rejected and I’m so confused.”
Denki clasps his hands together, shifting onto his elbows atop the table. “Do you want to maybe, have this conversation in a more private place? It’s just — if you want to talk more, we both have time and we can bitch about our troubles together?”
Kirishima surveils the area. Not many are around, but — “Yeah. I’d like that.”
There’s no labeling Kirishima’s attraction to Bakugou. He says he just realized that one day, during a class exercise, he watched Bakugou catch someone mid-air, muscles rippling, smirk ever present, and he just knew. It clicked that his admiration for his friend bordered upon romantic. And then it just grew from there.
And Denki, knew, too.
It’s clearly much harder for Kirishima than he’s letting on. Bakugou has never shown interest in another person, let alone a romantic partner. Midoriya, maybe, but their partnership is a rivalry more than anything. And sure, that friendship deepened with time and mutual respect — but Midoriya’s known Bakugou since they were children and has had a crush on Uraraka for years.
It’s easy to assume everyone is straight.
And Jesus Christ, now Denki’s just irritated —
In that instant, Jirou enters the common space. She scans the room and when her eyes land on Denki, she brightens considerably. He tries to shove down the giggling, bubbling feeling that floats him to cloud nine, but she immediately beelines for him, giving little to no time for him to chill.
“Where’ve you been?”
He really attempts nonchalance. “Nowhere.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, nowhere I’ve been.”
“Have you ever considered that you’re not the center of my life?” he smirks at her. She blushes and begins sputtering.
“I’m not saying that — I was just — Kaminari!”
He can’t help but laugh at her flustered response. It’s too easy, sometimes.
“Anyway! I was just wondering if you were free tonight.”
It’s hard to ignore that floating feeling. The voice in the back of his mind that screams that this sounds like a date. He struggles to swallow his pride and summon his rationality to make a split-second decision. Can he hang out with her tonight? Or should he try to spend time with Kirishima, since they’re sharing similar pains?
It comes out all wrong, because, of course it does. “You’re not hanging out with Bakugou?” It’s a little bitter.
She tilts her head, scrutinizing him. “Uh, no? He’s… I don’t know where he is. Don’t you wanna play tonight?”
“Sure!”
He can’t not hang out with her. Just because she’s the love of his life and is likely taken doesn’t mean he can’t nurture their friendship. And he’s doing pretty well avoiding her otherwise. So, like, it’s cool. Balance.
They’re alone in her room. Which, normally, wouldn’t be strange. But, as powerful as Denki’s quirk has become, Bakugou’s anger will and always be unrivaled. He’s afraid the man is going to kick the door down, set the bedroom on fire, then tear Denki limb from limb by explosion.
Jirou leans over his lap to grab something on his far side and as her body touches his legs, he tenses so hard he definitely pulls a muscle in his neck. She shoots him a curious look, having procured the sheet music she had reached for. He can’t chance a glance; something deep was twinged and the pain is radiating down his left shoulder.
“Pikachu, why are you so jumpy?”
“No reason!” His voice is unquestionably an octave higher than necessary.
She snorts. “You’re weird.”
He grabs his phone and shoots off a text to Kirishima.
[Kaminari] dude i fucked something up in my neck i need ur help
[Kirishima] bro im almost home but idk where bakugou is do u kno
[Kaminari] nah dude. sry. im w jirou rn, though so
[Kaminari] hes at least not w her[Kirishima] ok cool. text me later, ill help u
Denki sighs, relieved. It actually really hurts. It’s stopping him from looking at Jirou directly, so maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.
“Here, let me.” Jirou’s voice is soft as she grabs his fingers and repositions them. He accidentally discharges a static shock, and she yelps.
“Pikachu, what is going on?”
“Sorry! My bad! Just surprised me!”
She grabs his fingers again, replacing them. When he doesn’t strum and drops the pick instead, she sighs. “You need to focus!”
He reaches for the pick the same time that she does, and their fingers connect. It sends a spark up his fingers, but not electrical. It’s a tingling that stays with him, even when she removes her hand. She’s looking down the fretboard, pushing her hair behind her ear, which renders Denki speechless as she looks up at him, smiling softly.
“You ready?”
She’s so close.
So, he plays.
Her phone vibrates and while she’s checking hers, Denki checks his own.
[Kirishima] i heard bakugou slamming doors downstairs
[Kirishima] can u hurry so i can get out of here
Shit. He’s in the building. Which means, he’s going to make his way to his girlfriend’s room and he’s going to destroy Denki for sitting this close to Jirou. And because the look on his face is so sappy and obvious that Bakugou would be a fool if he didn't break this up.
He immediately shifts over. Jirou eyes him, confused. But she returns to her phone.
He feels his armpits and forehead start to sweat.
“Hey, Jirou?”
She hums.
“Uh —” How does one ask if they can leave because they’re terrified her boyfriend’s coming to rip their dick off?
She stops texting and raises an eyebrow.
“What, Sparky?”
He can feel the static lifting his hair.
“What’s wrong?”
He is now watching the static lift her hair.
“You’re starting to scare me, Kaminari.”
Her expression is so filled with concern that he’s momentarily frozen. She places her hands down in front of her, leaning forward, her eyebrows knitted and eyes glittery. She scooches closer, one hand grabbing the guitar, and the other reaches for his face.
“You’re sweating.”
She yanks the guitar out of his hands and rises up on her knees, inches away from his own face.
“You’re flushed!” she exclaims, grasping his cheeks. “And feverish!”
“N-No —”
“Jeez, Kaminari, you’re on fire —” One hand stays on his cheek, while the other moves his hair to feel his forehead. Denki grabs the one on his forehead, pulling it down. In the process, he pulls her closer. She nearly falls into his lap.
“I’m fine,” he insists.
“You don’t look fine,” she indignantly retorts. “You look like you ate something super spicy and you’re actively trying not to die.”
“Just — I need some air.” She drops her hand from his face, still too close. Then he realizes he’s holding her other hand. He releases it, pushing it away in a panic.
“Kaminari, you’re… being so weird.”
This time, instead of her signature sarcasm, her voice is filled with hurt. He thinks that she’ll stop it there, but she turns away from him as she says. “You’ve been avoiding me all week and now you’re doing this.”
“What am I doing?”
She glares. “Don’t play dumb, Kaminari, you’re better than that.”
“I just — I just don’t want Bakugou to kill me.”
She perks up, her eyes narrowing. “Why would Bakugou kill you?”
“You know…”
“I really don’t,” she snaps. “And you’re doing a shit job of explaining. So, you should leave.”
He starts to get angry now. Why is she acting this way when she should know? It’s basic knowledge!
“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t know that it’s weird to have a boy in your room that’s not your boyfriend?”
Her mouth slides open. “What?”
He stands up abruptly. She falls back onto her butt, legs sliding out from beneath her. His phone is still on the bed. When he reaches for it, she snatches it.
“What the fuck, Jirou?”
She speaks slowly, clutching his phone to her chest. “What… did you mean by it’s weird having a boy in your room that’s not your boyfriend?”
He rolls his eyes. Is he going to do this? He’s going to do this.
“If you’re dating someone, it’s probably inappropriate to fucking invite someone else to your room without them knowing.” His fists clench in anger. His palms are sweating. There’s adrenaline coursing through his veins that screams that he should fucking run. He whips around toward the door. He figures he’ll get his phone back later. He just can’t do this with Jirou for much longer.
“Who do you think I’m dating?”
This stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t face her, not yet, but he does turn his head. She’s standing now. He can’t make out her face, but her posture is straight and tall, despite her small frame.
“What?”
“Who exactly do you think I’m dating, Kaminari?”
He feels her hand softly touch his shoulder. She doesn’t move it, even when he flinches.
“Aren’t you dating Bakugou?”
She grips his shoulder then, pulling backwards, swinging him around to face her. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks earnest. “What on earth gave you that idea?”
His face grows hotter by the second, and he diverts his eyes to the floor. “Well, aren’t you?”
Her delicate fingers grip his chin and forces him to make eye contact.
“Bakugou and I are not dating.”
He knows if he tries to speak, he’s going to stutter.
“Is that what you thought? That we were dating?”
He nods.
“That’s why you’ve been weird? That’s why you’re being weird now?”
He nods again, fighting his instinct to divert his gaze from hers. Her amethyst eyes are fierce. She’s most beautiful like this, he decides. And also decides that he’s garbage at prioritizing.
“Did you know that even if I were dating Bakugou that I would insist on keeping my friends?”
No, no, ‘friends’ didn’t sting. Nope.
“I guess, sure. But —”
“Was it because you think there’s something deeper than friendship between you and me?”
He chokes. Actually needed to gasp for air. She grips his chin even tighter.
“Answer me.”
“No!”
“Why not?” she whines.
“Because!”
She rolls her eyes and drops the hand gripping his face. “Fine.”
He exhales. And promptly has his breath fucking stolen from him when she jumps up, foreheads colliding, to smash her lips onto his. He grabs her shoulders and moves her away, taking a deep breath to recollect himself.
She looks like she’s going to cry. But he doesn’t give her the time to decide, because with one more breath, he pulls her back into his chest, kissing her once again, softly; sweetly. He’s able to tilt his head for better access, and he fucking melts when he hears her whimper as he deepens the kiss.
And then, of course, because nothing is normal at UA — the door is practically broken down, startling Denki so much that he actually headbutts Jirou. So much for that earlier adjustment.
“Jesus, fuck, what the —”
Denki spins on his heel, ready to murder, faltering when he spots Bakugou in the doorway, gaping.
“Wait! I thought you said —”
“You finally fuckin’ seal the deal, Dunce Face?”
Denki squeaks, anger now dissolving into familiar bewilderment.
“He thought we were dating,” Jirou giggles. “As if.”
“Oi. That’s mean.”
“I’m just not your type,” she coos.
“Yeah. I came in here to tell you to keep Deku away from me because I will rip his throat out if he tells me ‘I told you so’ before he confesses his own dumbass love for Roundface.”
“You too?” She squeals, and as uncharacteristic as it is, it’s precious. She steps beside Denki, wrapping an arm around his.
“Yeah. I’ll leave you pervs to it,” he grins wickedly.
The door slams closed, and her fingers weaves between his. She leans against him before shooting him a coy glance and the kissing resumes.
It’s not until a long while later, in the midst of breathy kisses, a tangle of limbs and wandering hands, that Denki has a chance to check two separate messages.
[Kirishima] I FUCKING DID IT
[Bakugou] no he didn’t