This was all bullshit...
Bakugou glared down into his half-finished bourbon as the soft tones of the reception wafted around him. His reflection glared back, crimson irises and naturally spiked sandy-blonde hair warped from the tumbler glass. He leaned against the open bar, away from the main congregation of acquaintances and friends. Glancing up, he saw the tropical sun creep down the horizon beyond the windows of the beachside resort. Ceiling lights mixed with the sunset to cast a cheery, golden, hue over the revelry.
The hell am I even doing here? Only a few days ago he'd been patrolling solo on the streets of Yokohama, putting the hurt to any would-be villains unfortunate or stupid enough to commit crime while he was on watch. Now he was here in Hawaii attending his rival's wedding. The sparkling, cutesy, invitation had arrived at his office weeks prior. He hadn't been present when Izuku had proposed to Ochaco but heard of it through the Hero Net soon enough: 'No. 1 Hero pops question to everyone's favourite gravity gal!' the article headlines had blared. It wasn't that surprising, really, Deku and Uravity, as they were known in Hero circles, had been smitten in the years since attending U.A. and the defeat of the League of Villains. What had been a surprise was that Bakugou was invited to the wedding. It made more sense for the other alumni to be included, but not him. Not arrogant, volatile, Bakugou of all people, the powerful class prick of their batch at U.A. for 3 years running.
Admittedly, Bakugou had mellowed slightly since graduation, and had been humbled during the battles with the League. It was hard to keep an air of superiority over your peers when they repeatedly saved your ass in life-or-death combat, and vise-versa. Deku had the highest count of this during the opening days of Eri Missile Crisis during their final year at U.A., when the League synthesized a chemical agent from the remarkable Eri's blood. The mutant girl's DNA was the key to unlocking the puzzle of removing quirks from people permanently. The League's end goal being to take the 80% of the world's population with powers down to a mere 3% run by the League and their manic leader Tomura Shigaraki. It would've effectively been the end of the age of heroes and signaled a new reign of evil by a super-powered ruling class.
But the League failed, Izuku had seen to that in the mission that would open his career as the #1 Hero on the planet, succeeding his mentor All Might and salvaging peace for the world. Bakugou had joined him and their classmates and teachers on that godforsaken storm-lashed rock in the sea, fighting through hordes of villainous thugs, hulking mutant nomu, and their League masters. All to secure the captive Eri and stop the missile launch. Bakugou felt the scars along his biceps itch at the memory; he'd supported Detective Naomasa's assault against one of the bunkers housing a cluster of the modified warheads. They were ambushed and overwhelmed. Even with Bakugou's prestigious combat prowess backing them up, he'd been unable to stop Toga Himiko, that giggling manic bitch, from posing as a wounded officer and assassinating Naomasa. He still remembered that girl's cackling face, lashed with rain and blood that wasn't her own, her slender body heaving with hysterics. Vials of blood stolen from officers and Bakugou's fellow heroes clattering as she moved, catlike, into the fray against him.
Toga had been a wily little skank, using the shadows and deep rocky terrain of the island to provide cover from his nitro blasts. Relying on ambush tactics in a war of attrition to slowly, sadistically, slice him with her blades. She'd worn him down enough to bring him to his knees and feeling safe enough for a deathblow, she'd struck. Toga had leaped from the shadows, knife raised high - only to be caught by the stun grenade he'd been subtly prepping during their duel. Blinded and swinging wildly as she attempted to escape, Bakugou had detonated a blast behind Toga to knock her off balance and into his iron grip. He'd broken her then, throttling the life from the sociopath even as her knife bounced off the kevlar around his torso and sank deep into the flesh of his arms. She was just too damn dangerous, and the mission too critical, to risk just knocking her out. If she escaped, Toga could threaten his comrades, even Izuku during his fight against the League's leader. A knife in the back would finish him as surely as Tomura's desiccating grip. Toga knew this, and sputtering and broken, she'd crowed against him.
"Even if you win here, blasty-boy. Izuku will fail. Even if Tomura falls, we'd win in the end. Peace secured through death, you dorks had to shrug your heroic ideals to stop us!" She coughed up blood then from pierced lungs, that damned smile still on her face. "W-we're too powerful to keep caged. If arrested, we'd escape to form the League anew and hunt you and all you love down." She'd giggled then, chest heaving in a spreading puddle of life fluid, both her own and her victim's. "Admit it blondie! You ki-killed us to save yourselves!"
He'd stood there, unsteadily, arm raised and grenade gauntlet primed, just in case she tried anything in her final moments. Bakugou made no effort to respond, keeping a poker face of irate judgement. Her crumbling sanity and blood loss turned Toga's ramblings ever more vague and nonsensical, even as her voice cracked and faded as life left her damnable yellow eyes. When her death rattle scratched the air and she expired, Bakugou realized how tired he was. Her knife had flicked open an artery in his bicep and he fought for consciousness, too damned prideful to stumble and fall after victory. He'd made do with sitting on a rock and managed to keep awake long enough to see Izuku finish Tomura on that distant plateau at the roof of the missile base. Watching his eternal rival mangle the terrorist leader's hands to keep them from spreading decay before striking him with a full-powered punch that turned Tomura's rib cage to a concave jumble of bony shards and pulped organs.
'Victory at the cost of ideals, huh?' He'd thought as darkness claimed him. 'Yeah, I think can live with that...'
He'd woken days later in a major hospital alongside Izuku and the rest of the injured in the tender care of Recovery Girl. The old woman had fretted over the lot of them like a mother hen, chiding them to rest and ease their recovery while she distributed her super-healing grandma kisses.
"Kacchan," Izuku had intoned, Bakugou's nickname causing him to turn groggily to respond, "Yeah, damn Deku?" he'd snapped,only to see the other youth's fist out with a thumbs-up. "We did it." Izuku beamed tiredly.
With a snort, Bakugou had returned the thumbs-up fistbump, "Yeah, I guess we did."
Victory, Eri was safe and the missiles disarmed and dismantled, and the surviving members of the League in custody. The more scandalous news outlets tried to incite outrage. How could heroes charged in upholding the peace be praised when they killed criminals they would normally arrest? It was a matter of circumstance, the more level-headed news organizations had replied, the League's higher ups were too dangerous to be left in captivity - especially with powers that could lend to their escape to repeat the nightmare. The police and swat forces that had aided in the siege informed of their shoot-to-kill orders and how, at the time, those orders extended to the heroes as well.
A change to the music started Bakugou from his reverie, looking up from his glass to see the crowd clear the middle of the hall to make room for dancing. On the corner stage, Kyoka Kaminari had started singing a soft J-pop love song, her smooth tones flowing over the reception even as her husband Denki followed along on bass guitar beside her. The crowd was surprisingly sparse this close to the bar, most guests snagging their chosen drinks and sifting out to mingle with the crowd, giving Bakugou an unobstructed view as Izuku and Ochako took to the dance floor.
The bride and groom were jubilant, any shyness they'd shared in their school days having melted away in the face of their growing love. Izuku was clad in a tuxedo a few shades darker green than his hair, Ochaco wore a flowing, frilly, white wedding dress that shimmered rosy pink at the edges while a headband speckled with tiny pink rosebuds kept her brunette locks in check. The newlywed's faces were open, smiling, happy as they began a waltz. The crowd began a rhythmic clap, egging the couple on. From his vantage point, Bakugou spied the bride's overjoyed parents, and next to them, Eri herself. The young girl was now a teen enrolled in her first year at U.A.; laughing happily as her mentor twirled Ochaco.
Bakugou let his crimson eyes flick to other points in the crowd, searching for other familiar faces. Shouto Todoroki was linked arm-in-arm with Momo, chatting quietly, his heterochromic eyes never leaving his buxom wife's face. Momo nodded at what he said, her own attention fixed firmly on the dancing couple even as she tilted her head to respond. Bakugou looked further into the crowd catching sight of Inko, the groom's mother. The short, plump woman was tipsy, her face flushed but her eyes bright and beaded with tears of joy as she watched her son dance. Her unsteady gait was supported by the spindly arm of Toshinori Yagi, once former #1 hero All Might, now retired for years with a comfortable teaching gig and government pension. The near-skeletal blonde man had to bend almost double so Inko could whisper something into his ear, her gaze lingering on her son and his bride. If his lip-reading skills were up to snuff, Bakugou could swear the older woman mention something about 'beautiful grandchildren', earning a laugh of approval from Toshinori.
Everywhere Bakugou looked, he saw former classmates and acquaintances, most of them with someone: Tenya Iida talked with a clearly excited Mei, the eccentric inventor girl practically vibrating in place as she directed the large man's attention to the lighting setup for the hall, something she'd obviously had a hand in. Bakugou spied his former teacher, Shota Aizawa, sitting serenely at a table, his fingers tapping to the tune of Kyoka's song. A giggling toddler, a girl, bounced in the professor's lap, clapping happily whilst her mother, Emi Aizawa, formerly the comedy heroine Ms. Joke, excitedly related what was probably a humorous anecdote. While Bakugou couldn't hear her over the music and festivities, he did catch his former teacher chuckle in reply. He watched as Eri came over to the seated Aizawa's, her foster family, tousling her little sister's hair in greeting.
A flash of bright red caught his eye, and Bakugou looked over to see Eijirou Kirishima, the closest of their U.A. batch he considered a friend, lead his wife out on the dance floor. Eijirou had grown a bit taller over the years, and more solidly built in result of his hero training, his hair now permanently crimson due to gene therapy rather than dye - you just couldn't be the hero Red Riot without red hair, apparently. Gently, Eijirou led Mina, his pink-haired wife, in a slow dance whilst resting his goateed chin on her horned head - murmuring sweet nothings no-doubt - whilst his strong hands gingerly traced the bump of her first trimester pregnancy.
As if feeling Bakugou's eyes upon him, Eijirou matched his gaze and flashed a brotherly fang-filled grin. Bakugou didn't return the smile but raised his glass in silent toast, giving a nod in reply. He could still hear the phone call from the redhead from two weeks ago, 'C'mon dude, you'd be a great godfather for them!'
'Like hell I would Shark Week, quit asking. Find someone else up for it.'
Pursing his lips, Bakugou broke eye contact and resumed nursing his drink, contemplating the half-melted ice cubes clattering slightly as he rolled the tumbler in his powerful fingers.
He knew he should've found a date, or taken someone along on this, the invitation had allowed an RSVP of up to two people. But despite successful years on the hero beat, his list of actual immediate contacts was few and far between. And he knew damn well why, his reputation preceded him. Prideful and stubborn with a vulgar streak, Bakugou had let his rivalry with Izuku seep into his personal life well past the point he should've stopped it. He had no crimefighting partners, no sidekicks, not even a police contact. Sure, he'd work alongside other heroes when the need arose, or the government assigned him for co-op. But going solo suited him just fine.
Or so he'd stubbornly tell himself. He recalled his and Izuku's interaction when he'd arrived a day ago.
"Kacchan!" The groom to-be had exclaimed, taking Bakugou's hand in a firm shake. "So glad you made it!"
"Well Deku, I'd never hear the end of it if I missed out." He'd replied with a smirk.
This earned a chuckle from the greenhead, "Yeah, but at this rate you're the only one left who doesn't have anyone to-" Izuku's face fell, mortified at his blunder, clapping a hand around his mouth.
Bakugou had scowled at the words but waived off Izuku's stream of mumbled apologies. The fact that his fingertips crackled with micro explosions betrayed his mood. "Forget it dumbass. You have open bar and it's been a long time since I got good and shitfaced. Now where's my damn room?"
Whilst he'd been blasting criminals into the dirt, his former classmates had been doing that and more. Mingling, dating, marrying, and loving. Loving well if Mina's bump was anything to go on. Even Izuku's middle-aged mother had outdone herself in bagging a retired legend. With a jolt, he even saw Mineta Minoru, the womanizing little dwarf standing next to what Bakugou was sure was a local Hawaiian hooker hired just for appearances.
'Be prepared to ask for fucking extra, lady, a lot extra. It's amazing what five sexual assault charges can do, but then again...'
Suddenly feeling a bit vindicated about not bringing a date, Bakugou lifted his drink - only to have ice meet his teeth. Empty. He snorted and turned to irritably signal the bartender: some fresh-faced youth whose quirk seemed to be a series of hooked spines trailing down his back.
"Freshen you up sir?" The barkeep said with a smile, "Another bourbon or-?"
Bakugou plunked the tumbler glass on the bar, "Forget the glass. Leave the bottle."
The kid blinked, "Ah I'm sorry, sir but-"
Bakugou leaned forwards, "Look," he snarled, fishing a wad of bills from his tux, "Leave the damn bottle, godzilla." stuffing the money into the employee's breast pocket. He could just take it from him, but that'd cause a scene, and Bakugou didn't fly nine goddamned hours to Hawaii to be kicked out of the party. This little shit was probably still in-training, no point in kicking his ass - easier to just teach him. Bakugou nodded to the cash, "That should cover this bottle, and the next, and next after that. Plus extra. So shut your damn face and keep the booze coming."
Nodding rapidly, the barkeep handed over the bourbon and made a hasty retreat.
"It's like Mum always said..." Bakugou muttered, tilting the dark glass and taking a deep swig, returning his attention to the crowd, "If you can't join 'em, beat 'em."
The glare of the sun and calls of tropical birds slowly brought Bakugou to bleary consciousness, leaving murky dreams of an intimate struggle against a giggling blonde. His foggy mind vaguely feared that Toga's ghost had decided to torment him in his dreams; but the blonde here had longer, honey-coloured, locks rather than the platinum the psychopath had.
The wispy remains of the dream dissipated as the full force of his hangover made itself known. Christ on the fucking cross. It felt like a grenade went off in his skull. Or several possibly. Groaning with a string of epithets, Bakugou rolled over away from the hateful western sun, eyes blinking slowly in the morning glow suffusing the hotel room.
This wasn't his room. He may have only been in his room a single day, but he knew his was smaller than this, and not facing the beach if the sounds of surf was anything to go by. There was more marble here, rather than the dark oak of his own accommodations. It was a suite, rather than a single room proper. Hell, it even had a minibar.
A well-stocked and thoroughly-raided minibar, by the looks of it. Not only housing dinky bottles but several large ones as well. Particularly the bottle of bourbon he'd snagged last night, alongside rum, scotch, and even sake. He wrinkled his nose at that; he hated sake, how smashed was he to have downed two bottles of that? Shutting his eyes against the painful vertigo, Bakugou slowly eased himself up in a sitting position, white sheets sliding off him as he moved.
'Okay, collect yourself. Focus. What're the facts?' Last night was an indescribable blur fueled by copious amounts of alcohol. Try as he might he couldn't catch any specific details.
Well he was nude for one thing, his hips and crotch ached, that fact hammered on his hangover-beaten mind as important, but in his sleep-fogged state it was hard to guess why exactly.
'Naked in someone else's room. Fuck, I hope I didn't break in...'
With his power it was a possibility. Who needed a key when you could just blow up the lock with your hand?
'Find your shit and leave.' He thought, slowly stretching his legs over the edge of the bed - king-sized by the looks of it. 'If you were REALLY lucky, it's just an empty room they haven't booked yet.'
Slowly, to ease the pounding in his skull, Bakugou slid out of bed and set his feet on the floor.
His bare feet met several plastic somethings. For a blissful moment Bakugou thought them just candy bar wrappers from stuffing his face in a drunken stupor last night.
But then he opened his eyes and looked down...
Condom wrappers, a plethora of them, at least a dozen, all opened. The reek from the nearby wastebasket signaled where the spent ones had been tossed. Used condoms... that meant...
The shock of his discovery shook the cobwebs from his mind, but did little to lighten the jackhammer hangover, now he could hear the shower running somewhere ahead towards where he assumed the entrance to the suite was at.
Bakugou stood, muttering a string of curses while kicking his legs to untangle himself from the sheets. He didn't see the coffee table until his knee smashed into the corner.
"Fffffff-!" He doubled over, hands seizing the injured spot, biting his lip to keep from roaring out. It wouldn't do to alert the room's owner that he was awake. Straitening slowly, fighting against a hangover AND a banged knee, Bakugou almost didn't notice the glint of metal on the offending table. Fingernail clippers, and a nail file, both themed pink; sitting next to a napkin with nail clippings and file dust resting on it. Despite the immediate situation, Bakugou tentatively checked his own nails. They were clipped and cleaned to an almost meticulous degree and glinted with polish.
'Great, not only did I rail some chick, she gave me a pedicure...' Shaking his head in amazement, he resumed moving towards the main room of the suite, careful to avoid any more knee-high furniture while his red eyes searched frantically for his clothing. From the looks of things, this living room area was where the action began, evidenced by the scattered clothes, couch pillows, and even the upturned ottoman. A small veranda faced the sea, sunlight flittering in between half-drawn curtains. He spied his boxers and dress pants in a heap nearby baby-blue lingerie. Bakugou padded over to snatch them up. Only crumpled. Good. The tux had been a rental. His dad has offered to let him borrow his old suit, but it strained alarmingly around Bakugou's physique. He'd shrugged off his skinny, pencil-pushing, Dad's offer and rented a tux instead.
Slipping on the boxers, Bakugou scoped out the rest of the suite. A kitchenette of gleaming chrome appliances sat opposite the living area with a trio of high-backed chairs facing the veined marble counter. A blue bathrobe rested on one chair. Across from that was a branching hall with a mirror closet reflecting a shut bathroom door with light creeping from the crack and the sounds of the shower running beyond. He noticed, to his relief, that the mirror was hardly fogged from the shower steam; meaning that the owner had only recently started. By his guess that gave him a few minutes to hastily dress and leave - avoiding any awkwardness and questions altogether.
Hopping into his pants, Bakugou spied a low cut, form-fitting ebony dress draped haphazardly over a high-backed armchair facing the plasma-screen tv. At least the woman had good tastes, if he was any judge; but what caught his attention was the peeking sleeve of his crimson tux behind the delicate fabric. Stepping over and scooping the dress away, Bakugou hissed at the sight that met his eyes. Rental blazer, shirt, tie, and even the goddamned cufflinks his dad insisted he take, were singed, torn, and mangled. So great was his libido and impatience last night that he'd used his quirk to blast the outfit open rather than drunkenly struggle with the constricting buttons. And there, beneath the chair, lay the rental shoes and his socks in a similarly destroyed state.
'What bombshell did I bag to make me so hasty?' A deep part of him actually wanted to find out. He ruthlessly crushed this feeling, turning around to spy a short hall past the kitchen leading unmistakably to the entrance. Not wanting to waste time and risk an encounter, Bakugou decided to ignore the destroyed remains of his attire and make a beeline for his room... wherever the hell that was in the resort in relation to here.
Thus shirtless, Bakugou slowly opened the front door, peering out for any passerby - or worse: paparazzi fanatical enough to brave a private superhero wedding, especially if he was in attendance. He remembered the leeches and their rapid-fire cameras as he'd boarded the jet hired to take him here in the first place.
'"Mister Explosion! Mister Explosion! A few words for-"
"Don't call me that! Explosion is my official hero name!"
"Well, we can't just call you 'explosion'. It'd confuse the public."
"Then the public can learn! Capitalize it! I filed for the damn name! You don't get to change it!"
Another leech had perked up, jabbing a microphone at him, it bounced off his chin as he quickened his pace, 'Is there a Mrs. Explosion in your life?'
"None of your fucking business, now piss off!" Bakugou had snarled before slamming the jet door in their faces with no small satisfaction and snapping for the pilot to begin takeoff.
Steeling himself, Bakugou stepped boldly out into the exterior hallway.
His bare foot met porcelain. Looking down revealed a steel tray laden with a gently steaming teapot, assorted teabags, and a pair of mugs next to bowls of sliced pineapple and what appeared to be Hawaiian rolls.
Goddamned breakfast. Bakugou bent to move the tray and clear his path when he noticed something...
The shower had stopped.
He'd barely time to stupidly straighten up with the tray when a pair of slender arms encircled his toned waist. Damp fingers traced his lower abs while two soft, large, round, somethings pressed into his bare back. A slender chin met behind his shoulder while a breath ghosted his ear.
"G'mornin' bae." The voice husked. "You're totes a gent, ordering b-fast for us last night.~"
Bakugou's mind had to slowly reboot. Bae: Nonsense internet slang; term of endearment.
His eyes widened as he recalled the only person he'd ever met who used such terms in real life. He dared to look over his shoulder.
Standing there, nuzzling his back, face upturned with a soft smile, and stark raving naked, was Camie Utsushimi.
Better known as Ms. Illusion, a nickname Bakugou himself had coined to her years ago during the remedial hero license exam when they were both in school. He hadn't even known Camie wound up using it as her official hero name until years later when working together on-assignment against a drug ring. The illusionary mist she could exhale had provided ample distraction support then, giving him openings as the main hammer of the assault, though she was no slouch with her own fighting skills. He'd worked with her sparingly over time; but not in the past year, and rarely kept in touch despite her insistence that he join her on social media.
Despite the distance he'd kept; fate decided he was better suited taking her to bed it seemed.
Merriment sparkled her grey-blue stormcloud eyes. Straight honey-blonde locks, still wet from the shower, trailed down to her ivory shoulders. Seemingly ignoring his stunned, aghast, look, she continued on, "I gotta admit, I was, like, surprised. You were a tender firecracker, bae. Mad lit, carnal even, but still chill AF." She chuckled, the action doing... interesting things to her body as it snuggled against his.
He swallowed, blinked, and opened his mouth to reply, only to hear the soft click as the door shut in front of him. Glancing forwards confirmed that Camie had gently tugged him back inside, her hands not leaving his waist while keeping her astounding curves pressed against him. Now his hangover coupled with the sheer absurdity of this scene before him; a fellow hero cuddling him in the nude, and chatting with a familiarity that belied the situation. He'd always pegged her as a bit of a ditz, a sentiment reluctantly shared by other heroes he'd heard worked with her.
So why did she seem so much more in control of the situation?
Swallowing again, he managed, "The fuck are you even doing here?".
Camie smiled, her eyes not leaving his. "I totes should be asking you that. Got an invite, I interned under the Missus Emi Aizawa - remember? She and I kept in touch. I'd help her on utterly lit missions - stuff where her funny quirk and mine could gel to undermine the bad guys, right? So she and her hubby both got invites to this DekuOcho gig, and they use the bonus from his on Eri and lil' Suzu. And suddenly she was all like 'Whoa-whoa-whoa husbando, Camie totes deserves to catch a break after all the mad haps she and I worked on. Let's give an invite to her, savvy?'" She explained rapid-fire, to which Bakugou only barely understood but nodded anyway.
"Didn't see you at the wedding, or the reception."
She giggled again at that, "Was in the back, you saw the mad crowds there. Besides bae, you weren't lookin' until you were all good an' sloshed." She added, her index finger tracing ticklish spirals up his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the sensation. Camie gave a heady sigh, "Glad you totes noticed, so I could meet your washboard here. Too bad you blew up your duds, I was looking to scrub them on these...~"
His hangover pulsated back to the fore in full force. Groaning, Bakugou shook his head, "So we...?"
Her smile grew, "Yuppers, like I said, a mad-lit firecracker. We jigged a bit at first at the par-tay, all your fam looked totes surprised all 'Like whaaat? Baku can dig it when he's smashed!' Izuku looked super-happy that you were havin' fun, his wifey even handed him a bill - she totes bet you'd be a sour-square all night." As she spoke, Camie led him to the kitchenette, finally stepping back to take the tray and set it on the marble counter. "Totes surprised her again when you pulled a blitz and caught it."
"Caught... what?" Bakugou intoned, vaguely surprised that he was letting her lead him about. Her reveal of last-night's events felt like watching a car-wreck: he didn't want to know but was curious all the same.
Camie jerked her chin at one of the chairs at the opposite end of the counter. Dangling from its finial was a light pink garter speckled with small rosebuds. Ochaco's garter.
"You gave that Mineta dude a mad-savage smack over it, practically spiked him into the dance floor like a v-ball." she added, "'Fuck off, grapist midget! It's mine!'" she impersonated gruffly before smiling, "Some of the other girls totes gave you applause for that."
Bakugou huffed at this; while he liked Mineta even less than most, he'd rather have avoided socking the creepy little dwarf - even if it meant scoring brownie points among his peers.
"Wanna honeybun?" Camie asked suddenly, offering him a roll. She was completely at ease in her nudity before him - and why wouldn't she? They'd swapped fluids only mere hours before! "Or.." she grinned at his hesitation, taking a bite, "Did you totes get your fill of my own honey buns last night?" she added with a wiggle of her hips and waggle of her eyebrows.
"I don't fucking have time for this." Bakugou snapped, snatching the bread from her hand, ignoring that she'd just bitten into it, a fact that seemed to delight the woman. "My head's fucking pounding." He stepped into the kitchen proper, stuffing the roll into his mouth, snagging a tea mug as he passed. He filled it with tap water as he chewed, pointedly ignoring Camie's teased response of "Ohh! Pounding like we were totes doing last night!~" As he swallowed, Bakugou watched from the corner of his eye as she bent down and picked up a small black handbag from the floor, upturning it to dump, among other things, birth control pills, morning-after pills, a travel mirror, and a pill bottle she then rattled at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Asprin, bae." Camie explained patiently with a slow nod. "For the throbs." She added, tapping the side of her head knowingly.
Silently nodding his thanks, Bakugou took the bottle from her and uncapped it, swiftly washing down two capsules with a mouthful of water. Camie multitasked, dunking a green tea bag into the pot to settle whilst opening the morning-afters and releasing a pill. He blinked as she held a hand out to his near-full mug. After a moment of realization, he handed it to her, watching as she gulped the pill and downed the glass. Wiping her mouth, Camie smiled as she set the mug down on the tray. "Thanks Baku. For the pills. You snagged those from the ladies room vending machine after you smashed it, and the rubbers from the one in the men's. Said we should be safe after we got cray-cray. Somethin' about your quirk able to prob bust the rubbers if you weren't careful."
Bakugou glowered. Great. He'd damaged resort property and earned a pet name - or several - in the process. She had a point, whatever drunken logic he'd followed last night had at least reminded him that being able to project explosions from his hands was especially dangerous around protection.
Camie chuckled at his look, humming softly as she walked the tray around to the chairs and set it down. "I totes shoulda asked what tea you preffed, sorry bae. But original greenie's lit, right?" She murmured, pouring into the mugs.
He shrugged, "Sure, I guess. I won't be staying."
Camie glanced up at him, unsurprised and bemused. "Totes felt you'd be like that, bae." She set the respective bowls and mugs out on the counter before snatching up the hanging bathrobe off the chair and donning it. "Tryin' to sneak off while I cleaned myself huh? Uncool. But not unexpected, given the haps. You thought this would be mad awkward, huh? Didn't wanna be the lone dude hangin' without a gal during Izuku's wed?" She sipped her tea as his eyes narrowed at her, "I noticed you at the bar. I've known you for years, Baku-bae, so I can totes guess your moods. Even if we don't hang much. You're rough around, but a gem at heart. Jus' like that one Disney flick."
"I wasn't about to fuck up your trip by sticking around." Bakugou managed back.
"Bit late for that, bae. But I wouldn't have jumped you if you were anything but a lit gent yesterday." She bit a pineapple slice, chewing slowly without breaking eye contact. "Even asked for my nail clippers and stuff to clean your hands before we went all-out."
He blinked, "What?!"
"Bae, you were mad sloshed, like I said. But you totes feared your nails would scratch my choot when we started. So I snagged my kit and we cut and prepped them."
Bakugou coughed pointedly, glancing away, remembering the tools on the coffee table "I was probably still rough."
"In voice, but not bod. Vulgar, like when I met you back in school, bae. Sweary-AF. But mad-gentle. A tender firecracker to me."
It was all becoming too much. "Look," Bakugou started, shuffling towards the door. "I should just go, no point complicating shit any further."
"Complicate nothing, Baku-babe." Camie crooned, standing to meet him. "I've liked you for years. Totes since we met at the remedial exam. I'd heard you were an ass, but the dude I saw then - though rough AF, had something more." Her smile twitched at his unyielding scowl of determination. "Besides bae. You can't go out looking like that. What would your brosquad think?" She added.
"Like what? The hell are you even on about?"
Camie snatched her travel mirror from the purse pile and unfolded it to show him. Bakugou's eyes widened at the sight of his face. Lipstick marks pattered his cheeks and mouth, while a sequence of four hickies stitched their way up his neck and under his jawline. And, also in lipstick, scribbled in cursive on his forehead, sat the word 'BAE'. The woman's smile turned sheepish. "I had such fun, I totes needed to mark you as mine, Katsuki." she whispered.
Use of his actual first name startled Bakugou from his hasty attempts to rub the lipstick off - leaving a light crimson smudge on his forehead. Few people on earth ever called him that, his parents mostly, while Izuku only used it as part of his 'Kacchan' nickname. Otherwise his peers always used his surname. The fact this girl could suddenly spring it on him after all her bae nonsense infuriated him, and he couldn't really guess why.
"Just because we fucked doesn't mean you know me." He growled before turning on the tap to scoop water onto his face.
Camie shrugged one shoulder, nonchalant, "Well, TBH we did much more than just that, Baku-bae." she explained, sliding back into nicknames, before starting to count on her fingers "We totes Sixty-nined, had blowies, and you rammed me up the -".
Bakugou groaned. Her blunt recount of last night was probably meant to keep him off guard. "I don't want to fucking hear it."
"You totes should if you can't remember, bae."
"Too much." he shook his head, turning towards the door "Too fucking much, I need air after all this."
"Tell you what, Baku." Camie continued, swiftly stepping forwards and bobbing a hand in his pants pocket before he could turn, "Jog it out and chillax for a tic. Then come back and we'll gab about you, me, us. I saw you at the shindig, you're not happy glarin' an' comparin' to all your bros and their honeys." She flashed his room key at him before dropping it into her generous cleavage and folds of the bathrobe. "I'll keep this as collateral."
"What's to stop me from just going to the damn front desk and asking for another!?" He replied, eyelid twitching.
"Then you'd need to explain to the resort bros why you're totes outta your pad, shirtless and shoeless with lipstick and hickies on your neck." She countered, still smiling and lowering her head slightly to look up at him with vindication.
"...Demon." He muttered, folding his arms and feeling heat creep along his cheeks.
"You legit called me that lots last night."
Bakugou sighed, "...Fuck it. Fine, I'll be back."
"I'll keep your b-fast warm, bae."
It turned out Camie's suite was on the fourth floor of the hotel, meaning a slow elevator ride to the ground floor and swift walk out to the resort grounds. It was still morning, and Bakugou breathed in the tropical air despite his mood. Or moods, more accurately. He felt uncharacteristically conflicted. What was meant as a brief, uneventful, trip away from hero duties, turned out into a smutty, drunken, reunion with a gal he'd met only a handful of times before.
Camie lent him her sandals, rather than let him stubbornly brave the burning beach sand barefoot. They were small on him, and had a repeated pattern of 'LOL!' diagonally on the pads. Despite this, Bakugou kept to the cobble path winding its way through the resort. Wandering aimlessly with his thoughts, he didn't notice the familiar voices at first.
"So Mineta hits the ground, bounces, and then still manages to faceplant from Bakugou's punch!"
"He made a squeaking sound on impact. Momo laughed at it."
"You don't need to recount the event, Eijirou. I too was present."
"Can it Iida, I wasn't."
"Technically you were, but you were too busy playing with your wife."
"When you say it like that, it sounds hella dirty!"
"It is! Your bass playing sucks, man."
"I thought young Denki did well for his performance."
"You're a teacher, sir. You're objective with everybody."
Turning a corner around precisely manicured bushes, Bakugou saw his fellow party guests seated outside of a cafe the resort hosted. Toshinori, Iida, Denki, Eijirou, and Shouto, all casually dressed and arranged around a circular cafe table, a patio umbrella in the centre shielding them from the sun. Toshinori noticed him first and raised a skinny hand in greeting, "Good morning, young Bakugou! Did you sleep well?".
"You already know the answer to that, sir." Eijirou Kirishima added, turning with the others as Bakugou approached. The redhead flashed his sharklike grin at him, "You gonna give us the details?".
"It's no business of ours how his evening went after retiring from the reception, Eijirou." Iida commented, idly tapping the plate his coffee cup rested on. "Keep in mind that none of us made a point to ask you how your time with Mina was after your own wedding."
"Not for lack of trying..." Denki murmured into the rim of his cola. his blonde goatee nuzzling the side.
"Can it!" Eijirou hissed.
Iida adjusted his glasses, the large man fixing his eyes to Bakugou and nodded a greeting. "Good morning."
Bakugou nodded back, stopping when he neared them. They were in the midst of breakfast, if the smattering of food-filled plates was anything to go by. He was about to mention not wanting to interrupt when Shouto pulled out a chair from a vacant table nearby. Easily done since they were the only party outside. "Feel free to have a seat. I'm sure you're feeling the effects from your exuberant drinking last night."
Bakugou sat, "So..." he started, leaning forwards into the shade, attempting to change the subject to something other than his escapades, "Where're the ball and chains?"
"Spa day." Denki clarified, looking up, "Ochaco's treat, as a thank-you for them being bridesmaids and helping out, like Kyoka's singing."
"Or Momo's ice sculpture." Shouto added, pointedly looking at Bakugou with his mismatching eyes. "A crane. Which you shattered by the way."
Bakugou raised an eyebrow, "You invited me just to bitch about breaking your wife's little project?"
"It wasn't 'little', Bakugou. She worked hard on that, made it by hand using tools she conjoured herself. Ever see a woman summon a chainsaw from her thigh? It takes effort, and time. And I'm the one who has to keep the ice blocks cool while she works." Shouto explained matter-of-fact, stirring his ice-tea with his right hand and forming a thin rime of frost around the glass by way of emphasis.
"Multiple damn ice blocks?" Bakugou asked, "Pretty sure that bird was a single piece, last I saw it. What? Did she go all perfectionist on it until making the right one? And you just fuckin' stood there cooling them the whole time?"
"Yes." the ice-user shot back in reply, "Because it was for a wedding, it had to look good for her friend. And I helped her during the entire process because I love her and wanted her to succeed."
"If it's any consolation." Toshinori interjected smoothly as Bakugou opened his mouth to snap back. "Eri reversed the damage using her quirk. So it's the thought that counts. On both sides." The older blonde smiled in his own emaciated way. "And, to all our surprise, you even apologized."
Bakugou glowered at the former top-hero. "Bullshit."
"It's the truth," Eijirou chimed in, leaning into view. "Camie chided you, she was pretty tipsy but you held her hip for support and everything. 'Now, now, that ain't cool bae. You totes 'pologize to that chesty fam right now.'" He mimicked, his voice taking on a sultry gyaru-valley-girl quality before sipping his coffee. "She booped your nose and everything, it was the most freakin' adorable thing I've ever seen!"
'Chesty fam?' Shouto mouthed in confusion.
"You're amazingly submissive when you're piss-drunk, dude." Denki said, before pausing. "Almost docile. If you don't count the ice crane. Or Mineta."
"Indeed, you almost fully broke his cheekbone." Iida chided, "Thankfully Recovery Girl was in attendance, but it'll still leave an extensive purple bruise for awhile."
"Serves him right though." Denki continued after a mouthful of scrambled eggs flooded in ketchup, "If Mineta had caught the garter, we'd be hearing him crow about it all night and well into today." The electric blonde flashed a grin and a peace-sign to Bakugou. "Gotta thank you for that, dude, despite your methods in securing it."
"About that." Bakugou huffed in his seat, "The hell do I even do with it?" Despite himself, he'd feel awkward returning it to Izuku. Here's your wife's leg-scrunchy, idiot.
"Simple." Eijirou teased, "Give it to Camie."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed, "Don't you fucking start."
The redhead shrugged, still grinning, "It's an option, alright? Mina chats with her online. Ms. Illusion has an entire blog dedicated to articles involving you, y'know?" At Bakugou's silence, his companion's eyes widened.
"Holy crap," Denki sputtered, "You - you really didn't know?"
"Young Camie is absolutely, dare I say, smitten with you." Toshinori grinned skeletally, a thumb raised in approval. "Your other teachers and I noticed soon after your success at the remedial exam. It was minor at first, hinting really - every time you wound up in the news - good or bad - she'd have to say something about you on those social media accounts of hers. In her own... unique way, of course. She didn't even use your name until after you recovered from the missile crisis. Calling you a variety of things like 'Bomb-bae', and 'Lit-Firework'" The older man nodded sagely, running a hand through his graying hair. "The girl's a catch if I ever saw one."
"...and you assholes didn't tell me any of this?" Bakugou snarled through gritted teeth, his hands clenching on his knees. The rapid pops of mini-detonations effectively singeing the knees of his pants away. To have suffered a humiliation behind his back for years...
"We assumed you knew." Iida explained, "And that you likewise didn't care."
"News articles and photos." Denki added, counting on his fingers, "She only stopped there though. No fanclubs or shrines. Hell, when that 'Mister Explosion' fanclub of yours started last year? She made a point to block them. Something I thought she'd never do to anyone!"
"She didn't obsess, to clarify." Shouto said, gesturing to Toshinori, "We aren't talking All Might levels of fanaticism."
The older man chuckled deep from this, coughing a bit at the end. "She was dejected, however," Toshinori added, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "When my step-son's fanclub numbers eclipsed yours."
"It is to be expected," Iida concluded, "Izuku is Number 1 on the scale now."
"Obviously." Bakugou added.
"I'm sure Ochaco will put a stop to any overly enthusiastic fans wanting Izuku's autograph, and more." Denki said. "I have a fair few as Charge-Bolt, and Kyoka filed restraining orders against the crazy ones."
"Birdman and Shrinkray, LLC. does fantastic legal work for heroes." Iida added in agreement.
"Just do what I did," Toshinori started, gingerly sipping his London Fog, "and donate fan gifts for charity. There's no way you can eat all the candy and gourmet food you'll get, and all the presents and merchandise will be immediately redundant. In my experience boys, the best gifts come from friends and family, not the fans." He fixed his icy-blue eyes on Bakugou. "Which is what Camie has been giving you."
"I didn't get any-"
The former #1 hero raised a finger to stop him, something Bakugou wouldn't normally let anyone do - but this man had been the top of their field in the previous generation. When he spoke, people listened. "Nothing material, mind you. No valentine's chocolate, no Christmas gifts - though that'd be coal, I'm sure." He grinned at Bakugou's snort, "But, she most importantly gave you her time and support. Whenever the sensationalist rats in the media would point out your mistakes and rough attitude, her voice would be raised in your defense higher than others - even your own parents. She'd highlight the sheer amount of good you did: disasters averted, innocents saved, villains defeated. Who cares if you shouted down a nosy cameraman or something, in the face of all that? Indeed, I daresay her acceptance of you last night was her reward to you for your past few thankless years on the beat."
Bakugou blinked, surprised at this. Toshinori's nonexistent eyebrows rose, "You think it was just animal magnetism? That since she and you were drunk, that you just came together based on that?"
"Came together." Denki giggled.
Toshinori ignored him, "Young Bakugou. You asked her to dance, and she accepted the evening with you - not for the prospect of sex or bragging rights of scoring one of the top heroes of your generation. But because she likes you. And to be honest, she was hardly drunk compared to you; what with you practically ripping your shirt open after leaving young Mineta nearly concussed."
"I don't have the time for any-" Bakugou started.
"Bull." The veteran hero cut him off with a dismissive chop of a skinny hand, "Make time. She's offering herself to you; and instead of faffing about out here like a putz, you should be responding with your answer." He gestured to the other men at the table, the younger heroes straitening almost imperceptibly as his hand passed over each of them. "Here I see young men just as involved in heroism as you, their wives and lovers as equally invested - hell, one's starting a family." Eijirou beamed at this. "And they make time off duty for the sake of themselves and their loved ones. Face it, kid, you're a workaholic." Toshinori nodded, turning his gaze back to Bakugou, "But… I'm one to talk. I too feared commitment for years as the symbol of peace. Afraid of loss and disappointment. It took Inko to teach me the error of that."
A silence descended, punctuated by the sigh of the surf on the beach and the wind in the nearby palm trees.
"Damn... I wonder how the ladies are doing?" Denki said, changing subject and polishing off his drink.
"I'll bet Mei started tinkering with the spa machines five minutes in." Eijirou added, nudging Iida in the side.
After a moment, the larger man's eyes widened in realization, "You know, that's exactly what she's doing. Hang on." Iida stood, fishing his phone from his golf shorts and hastily speed-dialing as he powerwalked towards the beach. After a moment they could hear 'Honey? ...yes ...yes I'm sure cucumbers on the eyes would be better replaced by reusable moisturizer goggles. That- that isn't why I called. No - I didn't lock myself out of the room again! I just - wait -" and so on as Iida trotted along the shore.
Bakugou stood as the group chuckled and smaller conversations started amongst them. Eijirou looked up. "Heading out?"
"Yeah." Bakugou nodded, "There's... something I need to do."
The redhead winked with a thumbs-up, "Go get her, tiger!"
"Shut the hell up, dude."
Bakugou didn't need to knock, using the spare room key Camie had gave him in exchange for his own. Opening the door revealed the living room tidied: clothing folded neatly on the couch alongside the battered cushions and righted ottoman. Stepping past the kitchen showcased the breakfast spread, reheated, sitting on the counter.
Click! Came the unmistakable shutter of a cellphone camera going off next to him. Bakugou turned towards the bathroom hall in time for a second click - this time with flash. He could hear Camie giggling as he blinked away the glare. "Gotchu at a super zen moment, bae. Good angle too, to show off that lit bod of yours." She playfully stuck her tongue out with a wink, still wearing the bathrobe.
"You're worse than the damn press, woman." He growled, about-facing to stomp to the still-warm breakfast.
"But I totes get your name right, Explosion." she languidly followed him with a sashay.
Bakugou chuckled, despite himself, "Better that I guess than fucking 'Lit-Firecracker'."
He grinned at her questioning look, finally gaining an advantage. "All Might told me, about your little crusade to defend my name online. Solo, even. You even ignored my damn fanclub. One I didn't even know existed."
"If they totes can't even call you by your title, then did they legit earn the right to call themselves fans?" She asked, giving his bare shoulder a pat as she passed. A soft growl came from her stomach and Bakugou then realized that Camie hadn't eaten her meal yet either, despite waiting here for him. He felt a rare jolt of guilt settle in the pit of his own. The feeling must've reached his face because the blonde woman smiled.
"You could've eaten. I wouldn't give a shit." He muttered, joining her at the counter and selecting a pineapple slice and chewing thoughtfully.
"Nuh-uh, bae." She replied with a shake of her head, "Totes wouldn't be fair to you, or the underpaid dudes who slaved over a lukewarm countertop a whole five minutes prep-time over this."
"So you saved my reputation online and kept my breakfast warm?" He grinned despite himself. "Expecting payment?"
"Bae, you totes paid me already last night," Camie replied with a grin of her own, "And then some!" Waggling her eyebrows as she spread butter on a roll.
"Right, let's talk about that." Steeling himself, Bakugou turned to give Camie his full attention, red eyes locking onto her blue ones. The girl paused chewing, making a small, curiously questioning sound by way of reply.
"Camie, I... would like to... thank you." He started slowly, almost unsure. It was a rarity he'd verbally thank anyone in his life, preferring action and repayment over mere words. "For the rockin' evening. And... for giving me a fucking chance. Not just with last night; but before on the net after that damn exam." Feeling his face flush and sounding excessively awkward, Bakugou scratched the back of his head - only pausing when his free hand was taken in both of hers. She gave it a light squeeze and he looked to her face, seeing an expression of subdued, giddy, excitement plastered there.
Her hands are... soft.
Clearing his throat, straightening his shoulders, and silently reprimanding himself for being an awkward wreck like Izuku used to be, he continued, "Well, I wanna give you - us - a shot. Beyond last night and just sex - good sex, if I remember." Shifting his weight on the chair, Bakugou boldly leaned towards her. "Do you wanna hang during the rest of this trip and when we get back to Japan? Like, date?" he finished, feeling suddenly foolish.
He immediately felt warmth as she enveloped him, softness as she snuggled close - and a rectangular edge from her chest. Cursing slightly, Camie fished around before removing the offending object and dropping it on the counter with a plastic clatter, "Damn keycard." she hissed, before resuming the embrace.
"Of course, Baku, I've been mad-totes waiting for years."
He moved automatically then, as his hands slid up her back to pull her closer, turning his head and crashing his lips against hers.
So soft. Her lips taste of... peach lipgloss?
Fireworks went off in Bakugou's skull, easing the dulled pain of his hangover. Stubbornly shoving aside the surprise, he found them both standing from their chairs, her hands framing his face. This felt nothing like the carnal passion shared the previous evening. This was tender and languid; and allowed to take its sweet, sweet, time.
After a blissful minute, they broke off, with a gasp. Heat radiated from Camie's eyes and blushing face. "Damn Baku-bae!" She purred. "Lit-Firecracker indeed!"
He let out a rough chuckle, leaning his forehead gently against hers as they caught their breath.
"Seems you set me off, Miss Illusion."