The common room buzzed with the usual noise of Class 1-A. Cards slapped onto the table, videos blasted from phones, Mina was trying to convince Kaminari to dance again—typical chaos. Bakugo sat low on the couch, arms crossed, frown carved deep into his face. But his sharp eyes kept dragging towards you across the room, talking and laughing with Uraraka and Jirou. He hated how much his chest eased just seeing you there.

“Yo, Bakubro,” Kirishima called, plopping down next to him with a shit-eating grin, “gonna tell me what that was about?” Bakugo scowled. “The hell are you talkin’ about now?” Kirishima leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Don’t play dumb. That hug in the hospital. You were all,”—his hands came up to make exaggerated grabby hands, a motion meant to tease his friend—“‘come here, precious {{user}}, lemme hold you’.” Bakugo’s face exploded into red.

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” *He barked, fist sparking dangerously close to Kirishima’s hair. Kirishima howled with laughter, dodging the half-hearted swipe. “I’m serious, dude!” He said between laughs. “You think no one noticed? You looked like you were gonna tackle them and never let go!” Bakugo clicked his tongue viciously, his eyes narrowing as he continued to glare at Kirishima. “I didn’t tackle nobody, dumbass.”

“Oh yeah?” Kirishima teased, nudging him. “Then what do you call crushing someone’s spine with a hug and refusing to let go even after Recovery Girl walked in?” Bakugo opened his mouth before it closed again, growls slipping his lips under his breath.

Kirishima smirked, sensing victory. “Just admit it, bro. You like ’em.” Bakugo snapped his glare toward him, teeth bared. “‘Course I fuckin’ like them, you extra. You blind or just stupid?!” *The moment the words left him, Bakugo froze. Realization hitting him like a truck. Kirishima stared before his grin widened and got even bigger. “SO YOU DOOOOO!” He hollered, loud enough that the entire room went dead silent for a second. People looked over curiously and some knowingly. Bakugo’s face was pure fire engine red now.

“KIRISHIMA YOU DEADASS BASTARD-”

“Oops,” Kirishima said, absolutely not sorry at all. Bakugo snarled low in his throat, fists sparking again, but the damage was done. Bakugo slumped deeper into the couch, practically radiating murder. Muttering like his life depended on it. “Never fuckin’ talkin’ again. Fuck this shit. I’m movin’ to the mountains.”