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“Bakugou likes you, by the way.”
Eijirou, chill and good-natured as he is, thinks it’s a joke at first. He laughs. “You’ve been reading too many gossip magazines, man. Who said that? Teen Hero News?”
Mina shakes her head. “Sweetie, no. Bakugou told me. This came right from Lord Explosion Murder himself.”
Eijirou glances at Bakugou. He's still getting food from the lunchline. He hit a growth spurt last semester, and he’s notably tall now, so he’s easy to spot. Some things never change, though: he looks pissed, ash blond eyebrows set low over his eyes, grimacing slightly. He looks like the type of guy who has never liked another human being in his life.
“When did this happen?” Eijirou asks, indulgently. The question is still about 50% a joke. Bakugou, for all his faults, was kind of a catch. The thought he was pining over Eijirou was flattering, albeit unbelievable.
“I have no idea, but remember last weekend? He was pretty wasted. I mean, we all were, but– I was talking to him on the couch. I made some joke– like about you, or something and he got all quiet.”
Eijirou glances over at Bakugou, again. Some first-year bumps into him, and he turns to scowl at them for it. It is typical, and made more charming because of it.
“So that’s weird, obviously, and so I ask him what’s wrong. I’m a good friend, ya know?”
“Good friend leaking his secrets, right?” Kirishima says. If he thought this was real, he might be more strict with her, but since he’s still pretty sure this is either a joke or a severe exaggeration, he doesn’t mind as much. Mina smacks his arm.
“Silence, you. This is for both of your own good. So, I ask him what’s wrong, and he mutters something. I can’t hear him, so I ask him to repeat himself. He tells me,” –Mina pitches her voice down– “I hate that asshole.”
“Ouch,” Eijirou says.
“Right? Obviously, that makes no sense, so I ask him why. He rambles on for a bit, and then he says something about how he’s mad that you’ve been hooking up with that ‘extra from the support course.’”
“What, he knows about that?”
Itsuki Kurosawa was in his third year at UA. He had light hair and dark eyes, and a charmingly lean build. They had been hooking up for three months, and hanging out for four. Eijirou would not mind dating Itsuki, but he was detached enough from the possibility that it had never happened. Eijirou had grown up on his parents' love story, and a part of him was not satisfied with the easy, but unmoving spark they had kindled. Another part of him knew that they would not survive distance, so there was no point.
The fact that Bakugou- detached as he is– had noticed him was surprising.
“Are we loud, or something?” Eijirou worries.
“Ew, no,” Mina wrinkles her nose. “He said that you deserve better. I asked him who? Then he looked at me like I was stupid and was just like, ‘me, obviously.’”
“Is this before or after he threw up?”
“Right before. Like, right before. Those were the last things he said, then he got really pale and threw up.”
“Man, I guess the thought of dating me was pretty nauseating for him.”
Mina levels him with an unimpressed look. “Quit trying to be chill, babe. Thoughts?”
“On what?”
“On dating Bakugou, obviously.”
Eijirou considers his friend, who stands, hunched over his meal, adding hot sauce to his chicken so violently that Eijirou flinches. When he turns back to Mina, her eyes are round and expectant. “Man, don’t ask me that.”
Mina squeals. “Oh my god! That’s a yes! A yes, a million times yes!”
Truthfully, it’s more of a ‘he’s my friend, and I don’t like him, but I don’t wanna be mean by admitting that’, but something about it is too harsh to speak out loud. He imagines Bakugou, with his pale cheeks flushed, his rotten mouth hanging loose, looking at Eijirou with the gentle glaze of affection and alcohol. He imagines Bakugou, tough as he is, soft, for him, and only him.
It is far too flattering to discredit, even if Mina is misrepresenting.
“I didn’t say that. And I would be able to tell if he liked me,” Eijirou says, keeping his voice easy. “Just drop it, kay?
“Are you and Bakugou fucking?” Tetsutetsu asks. Unfortunately, Eijirou is mid-dead-lift. He splutters– Tetsutetsu catches the bar. When they face each other, Eijirou’s sure his face is redder than before.
“Dude, what?”
“Man, I don’t know! I heard you liked him!”
“Who told you that?”
Tetsutetsu holds his mouth to the side– the odd look he gives when he’s embarrassed but doesn’t want to admit it. “I ain’t snitching!”
Mina’s work, no doubt. It has been a couple days since she asked Eijirou about him– enough time for half of U.A. to know about Eijirou’s refusal to deny attraction towards Bakugou. Eijirou sighs.
“No. We aren’t fucking. I don’t even like him like that! Like, obviously he’s a good friend, but– It’s just not like that, y'know?”
“I guess,” Tetsutetsu says, dubiously. “I swear I’ve caught you looking at his pecs though. Like, a couple times.”
Eijirou can’t remember a time he’s consciously done that, but now that he’s thinking about it, the image of Bakugou’s defined, glistening chest is clearer in his mind than it probably should be. He grimaces. They sparred shirtless yesterday. Had Eijirou stared then, too? Has Bakugou noticed? He’d sneered and told Eijirou he was shitty at fighting when he was distracted. Did he think Eijirou was distracted because of him? "You’re kidding,” Eijirou groans. “That's hella unmanly.”
Tetsutetsu pats his shoulder, consolingly. “No worries, dude, it happens,” he says. Eijirou wonders if he should clarify that this is not technically a confession of wrongdoing. Then, Tetsutetsu adds: “I’m a tits guy too.”
Eijirou knows it’s bad when Kurosawa catches wind of it.
They are in Eijirou’s dorm room. The bed is creaking loudly. Eijirou is happy, because they’re fucking missionary and he’s topping– his favorite combination. Kurosawa’s feet resting on Eijirou’s shoulders, his mouth hanging open, cheeks flushed, and he’s moaning so loud that he swears he can hear the vibration of it in his chest.
Eijirou is about to cum. He groans and tells Kurosawa as much. He’s sweating a lot, and he knows it’s hot in here because so is Kurosawa, who usually runs cold. The thought is intoxicating. When Kurosawa moans, again, Eijirou starts pounding him harder.
“Do–shit, do you like it?” Eijirou asks. Kurosawa moans his affirmative. Eijirou knows his own voice is all choked off and choppy; the warmth around his dick feels so damn good, even with a condom. One squeeze, one moan, one anything, and he’s done for.
“Can I cum?” Eijirou grits out. He doesn’t know if he’ll last long enough to hear an answer for a second, but Kurosawa moves his lips to Eijirou’s ear. Eiirou tries to hold back his orgasm. Then, Bakugou's voice grits out: “Cum, Shitty Hair.”
Eijirou processes how fucked up it is one second too late. By then, he’s already released a deep groan from his belly. He’s already cumming. He hasn’t stopped moving.
After he’s done, he doesn’t really know what to say.
“Dude-” he starts.
Kurosawa raises a hand. “What did I say about calling me ‘dude’ when you’re inside me?”
Properly shamed, Eijirou slips out. He’s still hard. He gets up, naked, cold air from his fan cooling his sweaty skin, and removes the condom, ties it up, and throws it in the bin. Then: “Dude, what the fuck was that?”
“I should be asking you that,” Kurosawa shrugs.
Kurosawa had never used his quirk –the ability to mimic anyone’s voice– before in bed. Eijirou’s skin is buzzing, half from the orgasm, and the rest from a pins-and-needles mix of shame and indignation and embarrassment. “I think it’s fucked up that you used your quirk without asking,” he says, sternly.
Kurosawa crosses his arms over his bare chest. “I– look, I’m sorry, but I think it’s fucked up you’ve had a thing for your best friend and you never told me about it.”
Eijirou sits down on the bed next to him. He’s never been good at holding a grudge, and it’s hard to hold his anger too tightly when Kurosawa looks so hurt– he does not allow himself to think about what Bakugou would say if he knew about all this. “Where did you hear that?” Eijirou asks, quietly.
Kurosawa won’t look at him in the face, but Eijirou can tell that his dark eyes are wet. He narrowly resists the urge to caress his pale cheeks, stroke at his blond hair.
“I heard someone from your class talking about it,” he says, “I just– I got really mad when you were actin’ all sweet while we were fucking, like you actually give a shit. Like, is he why you picked me? You got a thing for blonds? Is that all this is?”
Eijirou wonders who in his class would be careless enough to spread a rumor like that in front of the guy they all know Eijirou is hooking up with– though Eijirou hadn’t realized Kurosawa had cared this much. He thinks about what Mina had said before about Bakugou disliking him. Pale cheeks flushed and blond brows furrowed, honest in his drunkenness. He wonders if Bakugou can hear them now, their voices raised. If he had heard them before.
“No. It’s not. I–I don’t like Bakugou. I never have.”
Eijirou says it to make him feel better, but when Kurosawa’s eyes finally find his, the glint in them looks angrier now. “Then why’d you cum when you heard him say that stupid nickname?”
“That’s not fair, man,” Eijirou says, exasperated. “I was about to anyway.”
He does not want to examine the truth of the statement– perhaps Bakugou’s gruff voice has always been a tiny bit attractive, but admitting it makes him feel like the worst guy in the world.
The guilt on Eijirou’s face must be enough. Kurosawa shakes his head. “We’re done, Kirishima.”
“Never liked that asshole anyway,” Bakugou sneers. He’s bouncing a rubber ball against the wall, in the exact same way every time. Snap, bounce, catch. Snap, bounce, catch.
They’re in Bakugou’s room, studying, though they haven't gone over material in awhile. Kirishima had done poorly when Bakugou had quizzed him, so Bakugou had asked what the hell was wrong with him. Kirishima had vaguely explained what had happened then, conveniently leaving out the part about cumming with Bakugou’s low voice in his ear.
Snap, bounce, catch. Bakugou has a dark bracelet hanging around his wrist that flies around when he throws the ball. It’s kinda fashionable, Eijirou thinks.
“Thanks, man, that really helps,” Eijirou says.
“Wasn’t meant to be helpful,” Bakugou says.. He’s on his bed, feet bare, legs strewn out in front of him. He actually looks sort-of silly, because he’s on the side of the bed opposite his pillows just to accommodate his ball bouncing. But then, Bakugou continues throwing and catching the ball even as he turns to look at Eijirou, which makes it kind of cool again. “Fuck you looking at?” he sneers.
“You’re good with balls, man,” Eijirou jokes. Bakugou, without missing a beat, chucks the ball at his face. Kirishima hardens, and it falls on the floor between them.
“Jeez, you’re lucky my quirk is what it is,” Eijirou sighs. “How could you be a hero with a domestic assault charge?”
“It wouldn’t be domestic assault, dumbass,” Bakugou jeers. He repositions himself so he’s sitting against the wall. He is manspreading pretty carelessly.
“We live in the same building, man! That’s domestic, right?”
“No.”
“Dude, it literally is.” Eijirou then realizes why this was a stupid thing to say, but decides to commit regardless, if only to see Bakugou freak out. “Can’t believe you don’t know this.”
Bakugou looks at him disbelievingly. “Shut the fuck up,” he barks. “You’re being stupid.”
“You can’t explain why you’re right, though.”
“Fucking– You’re saying that if we’re both adults who happen to live in the same apartment building and I punch you, that’s domestic assault.”
Eijirou grins at him. “You wanna live in the same apartment building?”
Bakugou throws a pillow at him. Eijirou laughs. When he removes his face from the pillow– which smells like Bakugou’s sweat, a faint sweetness that lingers on everything in his room- Bakugou is squinting at him.
“What?”
“You don’t seem too choked up about that extra,” Bakugou notes.
Eijirou hadn’t realized how true it was until it left Bakugou's mouth. Even when he’d been distracted while reviewing notes, it had been primarily because he’d worried that Bakugou had heard them yesterday, or because Bakugou could tell he was acting guilty.
“I mean, I liked him, but it was never… more than sex, I guess. He was great, don’t get me wrong, but we never were that… honest?”
Bakugou is quiet, so Eijirou goes back to studying. When Eijirou leaves, Bakugou catches his wrist on his way out. The doorframe separates them. Eijirou is surprised to see that Bakugou’s cheeks are pink.
“Heard a pretty interesting rumor recently,” he says, lowly. Eijirou’s brain is too busy processing the fact that Bakugou is at all aware of gossip to respond. “I know why that asshole broke it off with you.”
Panic shoots through Eijirou’s chest. Stupidly, he says: “Dude, it’s not what it sounds like– I didn’t mean to, but–”
“I like you too.”