Chapter Text
“Look, honey, I know you can do better. You just have to actually try-”
“But I am trying-!”
“Don't talk back to your mother, Denki.”
It was a weekend like any other, really. The calendar had ticked to his day on the home-visit list, and he got to spend the weekend with his parents again. Finally.
He'd been feeling homesick for almost the entire time they'd been kept in the dorms, and even if he loved being around his friends every day… it got to be a bit much. And that was saying a lot coming from him, to be clear. Now, though… he kind of wished he'd made up some excuse or something, just so he wouldn't have had to.
Something about his parents being on a trip, or too busy, or something of the like. Anything to convince Aizawa to let him stay at the dorms. Because why would a kid like Denki, the clingy, overly affectionate Denki, not want to go home? Where, supposedly, he could be as touchy feely as he wanted.
“Your father's right, honey, where did you even pick that kind of behavior up from? You used to be so kind-”
“It's those UA kids, I told you. They're brats, all of them.”
“Kenji, don't say that!”
Needless to say, he's a day in already, and it's not going well. Friday evening had been full of awkward silence in the car, followed by an even more awkward dinner, and now, Saturday morning, they'd started the day confronting him about his grades.
So… yeah. Not going great.
“L-look, I…” Kaminari started, instinctually flinching back when both his parents’ attention snapped to him once more. “My homeroom teacher talked to me already, and… and he said he'd set up tutoring between my algebra teacher and I when I got back. It's… we have it handled. My grades'll be fixed by the next test or so. I promise.”
“Honey…” His mom started gently, before cutting off when his father's hand raised, indicating he wanted to try his hand at speaking.
“Kid, we have to start being realistic here.” He said bluntly, and just those words brought a stinging to Denki's eyes. He'd been told to be realistic his whole life. He'd hoped maybe getting into UA would stop that.
“You getting into one of the most prestigious high schools in the country distracted us enough, and God knows how you managed that.” Denki’s mom swatted him in the arm for that comment, but let him continue anyway. “But it's clear by your grades alone you can't keep up with the workload. Being a hero isn't all about being strong, or having an impressive quirk. You have to actually be smart, too.”
“Hush, Kenji.” His mom snapped, but there wasn't much heat in it. Like she agreed, but didn't want to say it right in front of her son. “But, besides that last part, your father is right. We’ll let you try again with this tutor and everything, but if you don't start putting in the effort to raise those grades, we might have to consider pulling you out. Okay?”
And all Denki could manage was a small nod, afraid any verbal answer would bring out the tears he'd been doing his best to hold back. He'd lowered his head to try hiding his face, just in case any tears accidentally slipped through. He must’ve been doing a shit job, because his mother cooed and moved to sit on the couch next to him, pulling him to her side and pressing a kiss to his hair. Trying to soothe him. As though she hadn't just dropped one of the biggest bombs he's ever had onto his lap his first full day home.
He'd cried for maybe a minute or so, before getting up and heading to his room with a wobbly smile and assurance that he'd come out for lunch.
He didn't eat anything that afternoon. Or that night.
The rest of his weekend went by in a blur. But at the same time, seemed to dredge on for an eternity. One he spent hiding in his room for, and when he wasn't allowed to do that, silently waiting until he could again. Letting his parents yap to him about all the other options he had. Options that didn't require he be smart. Like an electrician, where he could use his Quirk for good, while still being as stupid as he is.
He wanted to say that he was smart. That he did try, contrary to his mother’s insisting. But he knew that wouldn't do anything. It would just make them look at him like they always did when he was younger, when he would come home with another note from his teacher. One that said he wasn't paying attention, that he was disrupting the class, that he'd failed to turn in yet another assignment.
Like he was stupid, and like they just couldn't understand why, when they were both just so normal.
He went back to school with eyebags and a distinct lack of appetite.
When he'd stepped out of his parents car, finally back to campus, he was greeted by Kirishima, Sero, and… even Bakugo, waiting for him, alongside Aizawa, of course. Their teacher had insisted he wait with them for their parents when they left, and see them in when they got back. A safety measure, no doubt, but one he didn't have to uphold. One he chose to.
Denki didn't have the energy to laugh and joke with his friends like he usually would have, but besides the worried looks they shared amongst each other, they didn't say anything about it. Simply carrying on the conversation with each other, only asking him yes or no questions so he wouldn't have to put too much effort into it.
He could've cried. His friends were being so accommodating, and after his parents were so… not that... it made him feel comforted and safe again.
And then he immediately felt guilty for feeling that way.
His parents were just looking out for him, he knew that, but… it still hurt. And he still couldn't help feeling relieved when he was out of their grasps again. Back in the welcoming and playful atmosphere that seemed to permeate through the dormitory's halls.
When they were finally back inside, and Aizawa left them all for the night, they all went to their rooms.
All except for one.
Bakugo came knocking at his door around 15 minutes later, and of all people, Denki definitely hadn't expected him to be the one checking in. Not that he was complaining. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether or not the hot-head actually hated him, and these moments served as a welcome reassurance.
“Alright, dunceface, the hell is wrong with you? You've been sulking since you got back, and I'm starting to get sick of it.”
Denki decided not to mention he'd only been back for about two hours so far. For Bakugo's sake.
“Dude, I'm just tired. My parents can be pretty smothering sometimes, and with the whole dorm thing? It's only gotten 100x worse.” Denki raised his hands playcatingly, forcing that usual dorky smile onto his face.
He usually wouldn't mind a conversation like this with his friends. After all, before he went back home, he had no reason not to believe everything he was saying. He hadn't gotten an earful from his parents since the dorms were implemented, and he almost found himself believing smothering was all he was worried about from them.
“Oh please,” Bakugo scoffed with an exaggerated eye roll. “You're clingy as fuck. We both know if it was just them smothering you, you'd be in an even more insufferable mood than normal when you got back, not this sulky, pathetic one. Somethin’ else happened, and I'm not leaving until you tell me.” The blonde insisted, leaning against the wall casually as though to demonstrate his point.
I'm not leaving any time soon, so spill already.
And what else could Denki do? Everyone knew, the moment Bakugo got hooked on some goal, he wouldn't give up on it. No matter what it cost him to get there.
So he just sighed and started from the beginning. From the moment he got into the car, to the moment he got back out 3 days later. From the awkwardness, to the lecturing, to the tense and tenuous days that followed. And when he was done, Bakugo took in a long breath, before blowing it out, all while pinching the bridge of his nose.
“God, your parents are even worse than mine.” He laughed incredulously, running a hand through his spiky hair. And, for a dreadful moment, Denki thought his friend was laughing at him. Him and the stupidity that got him into this situation in the first place.
But then, he was plopping down onto the mattress next to Denki, and roughly yanking him into his side, a weird reflection of what his mom did that first day. But this, despite it being infinitely more violent and not nearly as affectionate, somehow managed to have more of a calming effect than anything his mom could've managed.
And Denki felt tears come to his eyes again. He felt them run down his cheeks, felt as his chest started to tighten and his shoulders began to shake. And through it all, Bakugo just… continued to hold him. It was a bit too tight and slightly tense, but genuine. And that was the difference, Denki realized. The sincerity.
His mom could've said the most loving, careful, motherly words he'd ever heard, and it wouldn't have compared to this.
Because Bakugo genuinely cared.
And… maybe that's what he needed all along.
They sat there for a while, Denki held protectively to Bakugo's side, crying himself dry into the blonde's shoulder. And only once he really felt dry, like the ache behind his eyes couldn't possibly bring anymore tears, did he pull away. He wiped his eyes, sniffling a few times as he tried to recompose himself. Bakugo let him go, watching him carefully, with an expression Denki didn't even know he could make.
Not quite soft, but not quite analyzing. Something in between. Something careful, but not pitying. And for once, Denki didn't feel the need to cower away from that gaze. Instead, he met it head on, and felt some deeper level of understanding pass between them. Something he couldn't quite put words to, but for once, didn't feel like he had to.
“Look…” The hot-head started, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. Bakugo never hesitated. Not about anything. “I'm not good at this type of… soft, mushy shit. But…” And again, more silence. It was so unbelievably surreal, having a talk like this with Bakugo. The one who threatened to blow up both you and your family if you complimented his cooking too much, because it implied he actually cared about something other than being the best.
“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, I get it.” Denki tried to assure, only to get a harsh glare turned his way.
“Do me a favor and shut up, for once. I'm trying to have a moment here.” He snapped, and Denki clacked his jaw shut as fast as he could manage. Bakugo sighed, and tried again. “What I'm trying to say, is you can tell me shit. Like… if anything else like this happens, or you need help with anything, you can say something. It doesn't have to be me, but… I don't fuckin' know.”
There was another lengthy pause, and when it became clear to Denki Bakugo didn't plan on saying anything more, he decided to put in his piece.
“I get what you're trying to do here, Bakugo, but… well, you're not exactly the most approachable guy. No offense.” He chuckles a little.
Bakugo doesn't laugh.
Shit.
“Like- I know you're my friend and all, but- well… you get kind of… explosion-y, whenever emotions get involved…”
Bakugo's look turns slightly morose, but only for a moment, and then it's back to being carefully blank. It feels like he's hiding whatever he's feeling, but Denki can't for the life of him tell which of their sakes it's for.
“I… I know that. And… I've been trying to work on it. As hard as that may be to believe.” He laughs softly, almost self-depricatingly, and the atmosphere suddenly felt caked in vulnerability. Denki wasn't sure what to say, he never seemed to when it mattered. Whether it should be assurance or comfort… so he just let Bakugo keep going. “But, either way. You're my friend. And… if there's shit going on, if it's going to affect you like this, I want to know.”
And then they sat in silence again, listening to each other's breathing.
Denki could hear the buzzing of electricity in the walls. With nothing turned on it had nowhere to go, and so kept circling round and round. He felt like that sometimes, his energy frazzled and hurried, searching frantically for somewhere to go, somewhere to finally get out of him. It only ever seemed to find it when he was training. When he was testing his endurance, and reached the very limit.
Otherwise, it just kept speeding through his veins. Getting faster and faster and faster until he felt like he could actually explode with how pent up he felt.
Everything stays like that, still and nearly quiet, for another few minutes. And then, Denki makes a bold choice, and leans over to drop his head onto Bakugo's shoulder. The muscles tense up, before going lax just a moment later, and Denki can feel those red eyes seering holes into the side of his skull.
“Thanks, Blasty.” He chuckles, feeling genuinely at ease for the first time all weekend. And to think, it was the guy who threatened to blast him into a hospital about 20 times a day. Not his parents.
He tried not to feel guilty about that part.
Bakugo growled, before suddenly and harshly shoving Denki's head away, forcing him to fall back onto the bed with a surprised “Oof-” sound.
“Alright, way to ruin the moment, Sparky.” He snapped. But… there was no real anger in it. No genuine passion. Just playful teasing.
God, Denki missed that part. The part where he was pushed around and yelled at, and still knew every time that he was safe. That nothing would happen, that none of it was genuine. That his friends still respected him in spite of everything, and he wasn't genuinely being looked down upon.
He couldn't be sure around his parents, and it made him feel both a little sick, and giddy, that he had a friend like that in Bakugo.
So, Denki just lifted his head off the mattress and smirked, unable to fight the way it widened into more of a grin than anything.
“Awww, did I huwt youw feewings?” He teased, laughing out loud when Bakugo just picked up a pillow and pretended to try and suffocate him with it. He decided to go limp after a moment, before kicking his legs out the second Bakugo eased off his weight, knocking him right in the stomach.
Bakugo grunted and, rolling his eyes, hit Denki's face with the pillow a few times before finally sliding off the bed and rolling his shoulders, no doubt ready to get to bed.
“Well, now that you're finally acting like the idiot I know you are, I'm going to bed. It's way past my usual time.” He huffed, snapping his head around to glare when Denki mumbled “grandpa” under his breath. “Shut it, dunceface. Just because I actually have a sleep schedule doesn't mean you have to be jealous.”
“And,” He suddenly paused, leaning back in from where he'd stepped out of Denki's room. “Actually sleep, dumbass. Your eyebags are about as bad as Aizawa's favorite from 1-C. And that isn't a compliment.” He smirked, before walking out and shutting Denk's door before he could even think of a worthwhile reply.
But… he didn't care. He couldn't. Not with the way his cheeks were starting to hurt from the wide smile he couldn't seem to get rid of.
He almost wanted to strangle himself for being so affected by their usual playful arguments, but… dammit, it feels like it's been forever since he's felt this genuinely excited and fulfilled after an interaction. He'd been so tired when he got to his room earlier, but now… he felt like he might have to train another 200 years just to cool off.
And he loved it. As annoying as it was, he loved this feeling. Because it meant things were going well. He was doing things right. The world had righted itself and he felt more like Denki Kaminari than ever before.
…
He couldn't wait to tease Bakugo for this tomorrow.
And subsequently get his ass kicked.