Chapter Text
The semi-regular class get together started with the least likely candidate.
Granted, when Bakugou had unintentionally set off the series of events that lead to some extra class 1-A bonding, he hadn’t meant for it to be a group activity. Though, unsurprisingly, the universe didn’t seem to care much for what he wanted.
It was only meant to be a temporary – solitary – thing.
A coping mechanism for the flaming dumpster fire of a disaster that was the Kamino incident. Something that felt both like a lifetime ago, despite it only being two years, and too recent for comfort. He could still remember sitting in his room in the days following, bathed in darkness with his hands tremoring slightly. At first, he had thought it was the residual adrenalin that came with escaping a near death experience relatively unharmed. It had all the same symptoms. The elevated heart rate, the extra sweaty palms, the one-track mind. It was only when he was left to his own devices, and he could no longer blame the feeling on being caught up in the whirlwind of events, that he could recognise the emotion for what it was.
He could still remember it dawning on him, the shocked realisation of, ‘oh, this is what fear feels like.’
Up until that point, the closest thing he’d felt to fear was the sludge monster attack. Though, he’d let his anger at the situation brush away any real panic or fear he could have felt. Anger was familiar and, in its own strange way, comforting. He knew how to be angry. Especially at fucking Deku. He hadn't quite yet learnt how to be afraid.
His refusal to wear a tie in the days following wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.
Kamino was different though.
While the sludge monster was a freak accident, Kamino was the first time that he realised that he could fail. Granted, he had been failing all semester at that point, wasn't quite at the top of his classes like he should have been and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't quite catch up to the few students who were outshining him. However, the familiar arrogance and drive that had sustained him since he was a small child kept him from feeling too despondent about it. He was Bakugou Katsuki and all he needed to do was train harder and be better and he would be unstoppable once more.
But he wasn’t unstoppable.
Kamino had shown him that it was possible for him to not be strong enough and, most terrifying of all, that there would be consequences for his failure.
The destruction of the city, the hospitalisation of heroes, the end of All Might.
His incompetence had drastic consequences and it had terrified him.
It still did every now and then.
At the time though, he hadn’t known how to cope with the fear. All he had known was that if he stayed in his dorm room, sweaty and shaky, he would end up blowing himself and the entire Heights Alliance to bits. So, instead, he’d made his way to the common room to quietly watch some of Kirishima’s shitty Crimson Riot documentaries until he fell asleep. He didn’t really pay much attention to what was being said, just let the noise wash over him.
In the midst of the media frenzy following All Might's retirement, it was just relieving to see someone that wasn’t All Might on the screen.
His nightly escapades had gone largely unnoticed until one night when Kirishima had gone downstairs to get a glass of water.
In hindsight, Bakugou was glad that it was Kirishima that had been the first to discover what he was up to. Shitty Hair with his stupid shark tooth grin and soft eyes. Bakugou couldn’t imagine he would have taken kindly to anyone else finding him in that state with how volatile he had been (and still was, really). Kirishima hadn’t even said anything at first, just cocked his head to the side as he considered Bakugou shoved into the corner of one of the couches. Knees drawn to his chest as he steadfastly, and unseeingly, stared at the TV screen. The volume just loud enough that, if Bakugou hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids, he wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
That was what Kirishima had seemed to focus on as he came to sit with Bakugou on the couch.
“Have you been sleeping with those in?” He had asked, softly, voice still slightly gravelly with residual sleep.
Bakugou had just grunted in reply, shrugging his shoulder half-heartedly but still not turning to look at Kirishima.
“You know you shouldn’t be doing that,” there was a quiet rebuke in the words that sparked some annoyance in Bakugou. It was a familiar feeling cutting through the jittery restlessness that seemed to have permanently made a home in his chest.
He had grabbed onto it like a lifeline.
“Fuck off, I don’t need a babysitter.”
Kirishima had let out a semi-amused, semi-exasperated noise in response. Then he reached out towards Bakugou, the movement causing Bakugou to still. His eyes finally moved away from where they were glued to the TV screen to side-eye the slow movement carefully. Kirishima carefully uncurled Bakugou’s fists from where they had a death grip on his sweatpants.
“No, you don’t, because you’re Bakugou fucking Katsuki,” Kirishima teased softly, mocking the way that Bakugou often growled out his own name.
Bakugou felt the defensiveness bubbling in his chest but found that it got caught in his throat before it could stumble its way out of his mouth at the sincere expression on Kirishima's face. Kirishima’s hair was down, falling into his eyes and curling over his ears, the blue light emanating from the TV making it look more purple than red. The side of his mouth had quirked up when he noticed Bakugou’s gaze, giving a flash of his sharp teeth. His red eyes twinkled as they reflected his favourite hero appearing on the TV screen.
“But if you want a hand, it wouldn’t make you weak to have someone watching your back.” He slid one of his hands into Bakugou’s, not seeming to mind that it was slightly sweaty. In contrast, Kirishima’s hand was dry and rough with callouses, exactly how Bakugou had remembered it feeling at Kamino.
It had only been the following day, when he had let himself reflect on what had happened, that he realised that the restlessness had stopped.
So, that was how it started. From there on, all it took was a single text and Kirishima would drag Bakugou down to the common room when he was having trouble sleeping. The Crimson Riot documentaries were accompanied by Kirishima’s hushed commentary. When those had become repetitive, they watched old movies. Sometimes, when things got particularly overwhelming Bakugou would hold Kirishima’s hand, the calloused palms letting his brain know that he was safe and was going to be fine. Neither of them mentioned it.
It didn’t become a Bakusquad tradition until Kirishima’s disastrous internship run in with Rappa. He hadn’t shared the details of what had happened with the rest of the group, other than the fact that his unbreakable form had been breached and that was how he had ended up in the hospital. It was all Bakugou had needed to know. Seeing the news that Kirishima had been hospitalised after a run in with a villain was the second time he had felt that primal fear returning and, once Kirishima had been released, Bakugou had had a weird urge to never let him out of his sights again.
The rest of the squad seemed to have the same desire. He could see it in Mina’s lingering touches, Kaminari’s hovering, and Sero’s watchful gaze. Bakugou had also noticed that Kirishima thrived under that attention during the day. Kirishima wouldn’t say it but Bakugou knew that the run in with Rappa was eating away at him and the rest of the idiots helped take his mind off of it. Which was why Bakugou made himself use their groupchat to extend the invitation to their movie nights to the rest of the squad. While he preferred to keep the little bubble of calm they had created to himself, Bakugou wasn’t selfish enough to ignore that Kirishima would prefer the rest of the group being there as well.
Sometimes, they would watch a movie and sometimes they would just all sit huddled together. Bakugou on Krishima’s right, against the couch’s arm rest, and Mina on Kirishima’s left, playing with his hair as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Sero would squeeze himself next to Mina and Kaminari would throw himself across all their laps, lounging on his back with his head in Kirishima’s lap. They would stay like that, while Kaminari rambled about whatever he had been hyper fixating on that week, Sero helpfully keeping the conversation flowing when Kaminari stumbled over his words or got flustered about being the only one talking.
The rest of the class didn’t join in until after the war.
They’d ended up just converting the common room into a shared bedroom and Aizawa pretended not to notice.
And once they stopped feeling like the weight of the world and everything that had happened to them was slowly drowning them, they took a more structured approach to group events. Every Friday, after school was let out for the day, they would organise to do something. It was usually someone in Deku’s group that decided what they would be doing. Uraraka and Four Eyes made quite the planning duo when they put their minds to it.
Somehow, despite everything that the world continued to throw at them, they made sure Friday night happened.
So, there they all were, two years later, keeping up the tradition.
That Friday it was a celebration of the end of a very intense round of exams. Kaminari had organised some sort of drinking game that Bakugou refused to participate in. Instead, he just watched and let their shared excitement wash over him. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that they’d managed to make it to their final year. Somehow, despite all odds and so much bullshit, they were all there and still very much alive. Even fucking Deku, which, given his track record, was a miracle in itself. And if the end of the exams wasn’t something to celebrate, then the fact that he could see them all, scarred but still whole, definitely was.
Not that he’d ever say any of that sappy shit out loud.
However, despite all that Bakugou was tired.
Or, really, he was drained.
He knew it was still early in the evening and the fun had only just started, but he had been working tirelessly all week so that he could do well on his exams. Which meant that his capacity for social interaction was quite small and quickly reaching its limit.
It felt like a thick fog had settled inside of his head and was slowly spreading throughout the rest of his body. Making himself move around and interact with those around him had become a bit of a chore with his heavy limbs and wandering attention span. What Bakugou really needed was to get away from the large group of people who had congregated in the common room for a little bit so he could recharge.
He’d only joined the group that evening because Kirishima had tried to nag him into at least making an appearance. When that didn’t work, he gave Bakugou his pleading puppy dog stare until Bakugou broke and snapped that he would go for five minutes but wouldn’t promise any longer.
It had definitely been more than five minutes.
He scanned the room until he found Kirishima.
It wasn’t hard to spot his spiked bright red hair amongst the group of students. He was chatting excitedly with Kaminari, dressed like the himbo he was in his stupid oversized white shirt and basketball shorts. Bakugou was just relieved he’d managed to talk him out of wearing his crocs and instead had convinced him to wear red vans instead. He also had a slight red flush spreading across his cheeks, likely from whatever they were currently drinking. Kirishima, despite his large size, was a bit of a lightweight and any form of alcohol went straight to his head.
Bakugou heaved himself off the couch, knowing that if one more person tried to pull him into the festivities, he’d lose his temper in a way that Kirishima would most likely regret. He lightly tapped Kirishima’s shoulder twice with two fingers as he left, a code the two had developed for when Bakugou had gotten tired of being around other people and needed to recharge. Kiri would know where to find him if he was needed for anything.
Instead of going back to his dorm room, Bakugou went up to the roof. He had discovered, in their second year, the stairway that led up to the rooftop of the building and often went up there to clear his head.
The sun had just begun to set when he got up there, the sky alight with washes of oranges and pinks. He took in a deep breath of the fresh air before making his way to the railing at the edge of the building. A gentle breeze swept through the air and he finally relaxed.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” a voice came from behind him, “maybe you do like us after all.”
“I fucking despise all of you,” Bakugou replied gruffly but without any heat, “but you whined at me until I agreed to come.”
Kirishima snorted at that. Bakugou could hear the crunch of gravel as Kirishima made his way towards him. “You and I both know that no one can force you to do something you don’t want to do.”
Bakugou didn’t have a response to that so he just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the only sign Kirishima needed that he had won that round. Bakugou moved his gaze away from the bright sky line and instead looked at the boy next to him, contemplating.
“You didn’t have to come with me.”
Kirishima met his gaze and gave a lopsided grin, “I know that but it’s not the same without you there, man.”
Bakugou raised an eyebrow at him as he completely turned away from the skyline, shifting so he was sitting on the ledge, with his back against the railing. “I wasn’t even participating.”
Kirishima shrugged, moving to copy Bakugou’s position and propping one of his legs up on a mysterious milk crate they had found up on the roof a while ago. “You were participating in your own manly way, all stoic and detached. You even had your ‘I’m having fun’ face on.” Kirishima crossed his arms, furrowed his brow, and looked straight ahead, “this one.” He added to his expression by pouting his lips and squinting his eyes slightly in what Bakugou assumed was meant to be a glare.
Bakugou scowled in response before catching himself and realising that – with his crossed arms – he was making the exact expression that Kirishima was making. Instead, he settled on grumbling, “you’re so fucking annoying,” as he rested his elbows on his knees instead.
Kirishima broke his mocking pose to grin at him, “maybe I am,” he agreed as he moved to rest his own elbow on Bakugou’s shoulder and leaned into him. “But you love me anyway.”
And there, as Kirishima was drenched in the golden glow of the setting sun, the flush of alcohol still colouring his cheeks and his dopey smile glinting in the light, Bakugou almost agreed with him. Instead, he leaned forward slightly as well, initiating a game of chicken he wasn’t sure he would win. “You wish. You just happened to be less annoying than the rest of the extras.”
Kirishima’s smile grew even bigger at the response but before he could say anything, Bakugou heard a small scuffle coming from the roof entrance that, if not for his hearing aids, he definitely would not have picked up.
His eyes flicked over to where Mina was peaking out, thinking she was being subtle in catching them off guard with her phone out. The rest of the bakusquad had made it a sport of sorts to try any see if they could take photos of Bakugou without him noticing. Specifically, photos of him smiling, since he refused to smile in any of their group photos. They had been unsuccessful so far but he was certain that Mina thought she was winning as she fumbled with her phone.
“Don’t move,” he whispered to Kirishima, who was eyeing him curiously.
Instead of shouting at her like he normally would, Bakugou just looked straight at the camera, straightened his face as much as he could, and put his middle finger up for extra flavour.
He heard Kirishima let out a snort right as the camera flashed.
“Come on, Bakuhoe!” he heard Mina shout as she checked the photo on her phone.
Kirishima pulled away from Bakugou as he also turned his attention to Mina. “You better send that to me anyway, Mina!” He called, voice full of laughter.
“Oh, I’m sending it to the whole squad,” Mina replied as she made her way over to them, her pink hair and complexion glowing in the setting sun.
Bakugou felt his phone vibrate in his pocket shortly following her statement. “Sucks to suck, Pinky,” he said, not bothering to check the photo just yet. Though, based on the snort that Kirishima let out as he checked the message, it had turned out exactly the way Bakugou thought it would.
She pouted as she jabbed a finger at him, “I was so close to getting a real genuine Bakugou smile on camera,” she groaned as she pulled the milk crate out from under Kirishima’s foot and sat herself down on it.
“Maybe next time,” Kirishima consoled as he reached out to ruffle her hair.
She swatted his hand away just in time. “Just for that, I’m calling in reinforcements to crash the peace,” she grumbled as she pulled out her phone. However, she paused before actually sending any messages, eyes flicking over to Bakugou to see if he had any objections. The rest of the squad knew he tended to disappear when he was at his limit with group social interaction and Mina wouldn’t actually summon the two missing members of the idiot patrol if he didn’t want them there. She would even leave, if he asked, without any hard feelings.
Something warm blossomed in his chest in a way he chose to ignore. “Do whatever you want,” he dismissed, which was as close as to a ‘yes’ as she was going to get.
It didn’t take long until Kaminari and Sero joined, bringing blankets, pillows, snacks, and some flashlights with them to accommodate for the already set sun.
As they sat and stargazed and talked, Bakugou realised he had never felt more at home than at that moment.
-----
It wasn’t until the next day when Bakugou finally opened the snap that Mina got a notification.
5:56 am
Blasty took a screenshot.
Mina smiled softly to herself but opted not to say anything as she cleared the notification and went back to sleep.
