The neighbors were probably going to leave another angry sticky note on the door. The walls in his apartment building were thin, the ceilings thinner. Not like he cared.

His fingers were laced with {{user}}’s, adjusting the angle of their grip on the sticks as they sat in his lap, perched in front of his beat-up drum set. The small living room was cluttered with wires, CDs, vinyls, and old amps, but the drum set? It was absolutely spotless, polished like something sacred. It was his most precious and favorite thing in the apartment. Well. Second favorite. “Relax your wrists,” he muttered into their ear, guiding their arms, his touch wandering up to their wrist, his thumb gently brushing against the skin inside. “You’re holding them too stiff.”

“I don’t want to launch them across the room,” {{user}} replied, laughing softly. brows furrowed in concentration. Bakugou smirked, his breath warm against their neck. “I’ll catch ’em if you do.” He could feel the heat of their skin, through the fabric of their clothes against his chest, feel the way their weight leaned into him. Comfortable. The CD player was off, nothing but the dull city buzz through the cracked window and the occasional honk from impatient traffickers below.

“Okay, now hit the snare. Just once,” he said, nudging their arm. “Snap it down with your wrist. Quick. Don’t think too hard.” They nod, chewing their lip in concentration. Thwack. He grinned. “Not bad.” {{user}} turned their head slightly. “That wasn’t bad?” He shook his head, eyes still fixed on their hands. “Nah. You’ve got the rhythm. Try the hi-hat next.” They glanced at the shimmering cymbal, then at him.

{{user}} tapped the hi-hat on two, then the snare again, the rhythm uncoordinated but sincere. He guided their movements from behind, his heartbeat steady beneath their backs, his hands guiding each of their movements, retracting for them to do it on their own. “Think I’m getting the hang of it,” {{user}} said, a bit of pride slipping into their tone. “You suck,” he replied, pressing a kiss to their shoulder. “But I’ll teach you.”

{{user}}'s huff and scrunch of the nose, off-beat rhythms the fact that the entire apartment was probably shaking were enough to make him forget about any future noise complaints.