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too-scared-to-do-this · 4 years

Text

Prestige

Chapter four -Tiny crumbs of imperfection

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 2133

Pairings: prinxiety

TW: !!! It’s not so well written (and I’m not sure how accurate it is), but there is a pretty big part about verbal abuse and a car accident so if that is something you can’t read skip to the part where the slanted text stops !!! Besides that there is a full on panic attack scene, a long rant about dyslexia and it’s annoyingness, cursing and just some light teasing. If I’ve missed any, don’t hesitate to let me know!

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

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Chapter four - Tiny crumbs of imperfection

“You fucking useless piece of shit! I’ve told you hundreds of times to-“

“Virgil. Headphones.” Raimond ordered. His voice meant nothing but business - cold and determined. No room for discussion. Virgil knew better then to oppose his big brother. He reached for his backpack sitting next to him on the back seat.

“Why should he? A fuck-p like him would just benefit from this. You see Virgil, if you don’t want to end up weak and completely useless, like you brother here, you should listen. Or maybe you-“

“Now.” and this time there was an urgency to his brother’s voice. Pushing out all the acidy sweetness of Richards’s words. Virgil’s finger’s shook as he pulled the headphones out of the bag quickly.

“Playing big rother now, are we?” Richard scoffed. “Where were you when your father ran? How fucked-up of a family do you have to be to drive that man away.”

Virgil heard that. Even through his headphones, he heard it. Richard’s voice wasn’t exactly easy to toon out. Low and loud, bouncing of every wall and surface, making the hair on you back stand.

Virgil Hated his step-father. More then anything. And judging by the white-knuckled grip Rai had on the steering wheel, he did too.

No matter how ‘nice’ this man pretended to be when sober. A drunk Richard was a disgusting, unbearable, suffocating man.

Virgil put his music louder. Blasting whatever was on his phone at the moment at full volume. Maybe that would drown this out. Maybe that would stop Richard from saying all these things to him and his brother…

But no… Richard’s mouth was still moving, words still spilling out into the tight air in the car. Suffocating everybody.

In the rearview mirror, Virgil could see the tight squeeze of Rai’s lips. The way his jaw was set. The way he was just seconds ago from bursting.

But they both new better. They both knew that wouldn’t help.

So, Rai’s nostrils flared. Chest expanding with a deep breath. And then those tightlipped three calm words left his mouth. Virgil didn’t need to hear them to know what they were. It was a well-rehearsed script by now. “You are drunk.”

“No shit, sherlock! At least that’s better than whatever you’re fucking doing with your meaningless pitiful life.” would usually come next. Rai would just swallow, keep his head high. Then glance and Virgil and take them both out for ice-cream or the park. Rai loved the park.

But this time… This time something went wrong…

There was a different look on his stepfather’s face. Not the usual furrowed-browed, sneering ‘I’m so done with this bullshit’ kind of face.

No. This time was different. This time it was pure hate and disgust. And suddenly, his lips were moving. And his hand was moving. And through all the music and movement, Virgil heard it. His shout. “You ungrateful moron!”

And Richard’s hand was on the steering-wheel. And Raimonds eyes went wide with panic. For the first time in his life, Virgil saw his brother completely terrified.

His glassed blue eyes immediately shot to the rearview mirror, searching for his little brother. Trying to tell him to hold on, but no words found their way out in time…

That pull of the car. That loud noise. And then it was dark.

“Hhhhh!!!!” Virgil shot up in bed gasping for air.

He couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t fucking breathe! He couldn’t-

“Virgil?” there was a voice somewhere in the distance. From behind thick glass.

He needed to take a breath! Come on Virgil, breathe!

“Hey… Virgil…” this time Virgil heard it. Still from behind that glass, but it was there. the voice. A hand on his shaking shoulder.

He was shaking?

“Listen to me okay?”

And he tried. He really did. But the thick glass was getting thicker by the moment, voice lost with it.

The touch getting lighter and lighter until he could barely feel of that hand on his shoulder.

Until all he could hear were his thorn up breaths and suffering lungs. His heart in his ear, blood rushing.

Until all that was in front of his eyes were those big blue eyes. Panicked.

All he could hear was the screeching of tired. The loud noise. Humming.

Humming. Virgil’s mind stopped spinning for a moment. Humming?

He focused on that. On that unknown melody that somehow broke throw the thick wall. Brough back the heavy hand on his shoulder.

Brough back the air that got sucked out of his lungs.

Humming.

Virgil opened his eyes, still beathing heavily. But at least breathing.

It was dark, yes. But the moon shone through the window, breaking up every sell of that overwhelming dark from before. Making it so much easier to see Roman sitting in front of him, smiling lightly. Never stopping his hum.

Even in this not-so-much-dark Virgil could see the concern and relief in his eyes. It was so obvious. Roman could literally never hide anything. It just wasn’t possible.

It was still harder to keep the air down. Even harder to move or just stop shaking. He listened to Roman hum his toon over and over again, the sound swallowing Virgil whole.

Soothing his panicked mind. Blocking out all the memories.

He uncurled slightly, letting his numb limbs rest after the tight embrace they held him in.

That’s when Romans toon stopped. And his hand pulled away. “Better?”

Virgil didn’t yet trust his voice. (And after this fiasco, he wasn’t sure he ever was going to again!) So, he just nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The tall one offered, as if this was the most normal thing two ‘mortal enemies’ (as he put it earlier) could do.

Virgil just shook his head.

“Alright then.” Ro shrugged like ‘whatever’ with a kind smile and stood up to walk back to his bed.

It was pretty late anyways. But neither of them had class in the morning, so who cares really.

And that moment - that one moment when Ro stood up and made his first step - was the moment V’s limbs decided to work again. He doesn’t even know how or when, but he was reaching out, grabbing onto his hand. “Can you… can you stay and talk for a little bit?”

And, oh my god, that look in V’s eyes! Even if Roman would have wanted to say no (which he didn’t, obviously - this man might be his mortal-enemy, but not even he deserves that much cruelty), he wouldn’t be able to. In those dark broody eyes, that always cast cold glares at him was this need, this silent plea.

And so Roman smiled this soft smile and sat back onto the bed. “Sure.”

He knew the drill by heart. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Virgil wasn’t about to force himself to talk, so this was up to Roman. Thankfully, he was the master of endless rants about pretty much nothing!

And so, it started. “I love writing so much! And acting - obviously. My dream is to be this big actor and playwright one day! You know - have my name on the script, cast on Broadway and stuff. I just kind of find it ironic, since the one thing I love I can’t really do. Not acting, obviously - I’m awesome at that!” he smirked self-assured and confident. Virgil made this sound with his nose - blew out some air as if laughter. And roman took it as a win. “I’m talking about writing. Like, literally. No matter how hard I try, grammar just won’t be my friend. I have dyslexia and that shit just sucks. Like, I don’t mind it, and sometimes it’s the funniest thing, but other times… well it gets on one’s nerves. I can’t type an email on my phone for example! Or anything important really. And yes, I know there is that thing called ‘autocorrect’ - but it just kept on correcting my words into something completely different and it annoyed me so much! So, I just shut it off. Oh, and don’t even get me started on reading! It really depends on how tired I am, but on bad days, man… That Shakespeare you helped me with the other day. I would have stayed up until literal morning just trying to figure out what even was on those pages! So yeah, thanks for that. That rehearsal went fantastically, by the way! The teacher was blown away. Do you know mister Greenwitch? He’s this kind of ‘do it my way or don’t even try!’-” Roman mimicked his voice, which made Virgil laugh slightly. “- kind of guy. And even he said it was, and I quote: ‘Acceptable’. Everybody was floored! I was floored!”

Virgil wondered how long would this rant last. (And how self-absorbed could one person be to be able to talk this long about themselves, but that was for a different day.) But he didn’t complain.

It was actually kind of surprising - hearing about this dyslexia thing. So Roman wasn’t so picture perfect after all. No super human - just regular old, grammar-fighting Roman.

That somehow lessened that reasonless resentment he was feeling towards him. Broke a crumb off of that barrier he so carefully built up to protect the people around him…

Roman was taking a deep breath ready to spew another avalanche of words at him, but V beat him to it. “What is that song you were humming?”

The man’s head cocked to the side in the most adorable way (which Virgil would never ever admit!). “An old lullaby my mother used to sing to me and my brother when we were little. It was the only thing that would calm Remus down enough to sleep.” he chuckled at the memory.

“Hmm…” Virgil hummed in understanding. There was this little pause - Roman lost in his head and Virgil watching him, just as much thoughtful. And then the thought slipped out. “How did you know what to do?”

“Hm?”

“With my… with me. How did you know the song would work?”

“Oh! My sister, Cassie, you met her. After our mum died, she started getting these panic attacks and I used to sing to her until she calmed down. I just figured I’d give it a try, you know.” Ro shrugged.

“You would have looked so ridiculous if it wouldn’t have.” Virgil smirked.

And Roman was gone. Completely gone. He mocked offence. “How dare you question my skills!”

And Virgil started chuckling. Softly and quietly, still weak from everything, but he laughed. And it made Ro’s heart happy. (For some inexplicable reason, he will never admit to or think about ever again.)

“You give me too much reason to, princey.”

“I am offended!”

“I can see that.”

And they both laughed. Just softly. Just quietly. But suddenly it was lighter in the room again.

“But it did help.” Roman concluded, just for his own sake.

“Yeah.” V nodded tiredly. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. It was four in the morning. “Don’t you have class in the morning or something?”

Roman just shrugged again, gathering up to move back to his bed. “Nah. I’m free. And so are you judging by your schedule.”

“Did you memorize my schedule?! Are you some kind of stalker?”

“It’s on your table, dimwit.” Roman laughed. “I checked it and remembered some stuff. I’ve got a good memory.”

“Right.” Virgil said, but it was clear he was mocking disbelief.

“By the way, you’re handwriting sucks! Like I already have problems reading printed text, but that mess…”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re very much welcome. What major are you in anyways? You know mine, it’s only fair if I know yours.” the man flopped onto his bed, pulling the covers over himself. It was so warm and comfy! Not like at home, but pretty close.

“Psych.” Virgil did the same.

“Really?!” and the surprise in Roman’s voice was so obvious, if he were anybody else, Virgil would be hurt by it.

“Yes, really.” he just rolled his eyes.

“How did you end up in psych?” the taller was pushing himself up again, ready for another round of talking.

But Virgil had enough of that for one night. he was exhausted. He needed sleep. He closed his eyes - blue ones in glasses still edged in his memory, but their blow softened by the repeating memory of Roman’s lullaby… “Good night, Roman.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t leave me hanging now. I’m really curious! Tomorrow you’ll go back to your sulky self and I won’t even get a word from you!”

And that made Virgil grin into his pillow. Because yes - he was going to do exactly just that.

“Good night, Roman.”

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I told you I’ve had some backstory planned! And that isn’t even the whole thing yet! (@hestianerd1 you said angst from both sides. You’re getting a generous dose of it :3 - Btw, thanks for that website! I’ll be using that! <3)

Also, that dyslexia rant - not me projecting XD (It is long and pretty much useless and unimportant, but it stays, I’ve decided XD)

So, heavy subject and sad stories aside... I really do hope you enjoyed it and weren’t troubled too much...

Thanks for reading though ^^

Tag list:

@a-formless-entity

@cirishere

@ray-does-stuff

@lovelivingmydreams

#prestige #very scary tiny V #very lovely tall Ro #virgil angst #some light Roman angst #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #creativity sanders #anxiety sanders #thomas sanders #sander's sides #what else should i tag?#prinxiety

17 notes · View notes

purplepersnicketywrites · 5 years

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Purbbbbb what about a quirk accident fic. E.g. one of them is hit by a truth quirk, or a mindreading quirk, or theyre turned to a kid so babysitting ensues. Cliche-ish but you write the cutest things so itd be fun to read lzhxhxuf

MAPLE!!! Yes!!

hhhhhhh truth quirk hhhhh

Eijirou felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Or, uh, maybe he had? Everything was a little hazy. Kinda vague. Was his vision cloudy? He blinked a couple of times and it began to clear. Augh, his stomach was killing him.

Someone shook his shoulder, roughly. Who was it? Eijirou looked up and saw a blob of mostly black. Whoever it was had blond hair, though.

“Oi, Kirishima! Hey! Are you okay?”

Huh, the voice coming from the blob sounded familiar? Eijirou shook his head. “Feel sick. Stomach bad. Can’t see well.”

Some of his nausea lightened as he spoke - he guessed that having something to focus on was helping?

“Ah, shit. He got you, didn’t he?”

“I don’t remember,” Eijirou said, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I’m not totally sure who you are?”

“Fuuuck, okay,” said the person, kneeling down in front of him. “Do you know your name?”

“Kirishima Eijirou,” Eijirou said. He was pretty sure of that.

“Good. How old are you?”

“Um, sixteen?”

“Yep, right. What school do you go to?”

Eijirou thought about that. “Yuuei.”

“Okay, do you know the names of your classmates?”

Eijirou squinted at the blob-person again. His vision was getting better, and he made out a pair of bright red eyes, staring at him with a concern that didn’t normally occupy them.

“Oh,” Eijirou said. “Bakugou!”

Bakugou grinned at him. “There ya go. Dumbass.”

“Ugh, I feel awful,” Eijirou said. “I still don’t remember what happened. Feel like I got punched! But my quirk should’ve stopped that, right?”

“Idiot, we got briefed on this,” Bakugou said, standing up and hauling Eijirou to his feet. “The guy we were after has a contact-activated quirk. Doesn’t matter if you were hardened or not - you’re still gonna be affected by it.”

“Oh, so, was this a brain-mush quirk?” Eijirou asked.

Bakugou shook his head. “The fucker has a kind of speech quirk. If you don’t say enough true things, it fucks with you.”

“True things? Like, the sky is blue? Grass is green?” Eijirou felt the haze over his thoughts lifting even as he said the words. “Oh, it’s working.”

“Yeah. Better get you back to Fat Gum and Suneater,” Bakugou said. His hand was around Eijirou’s elbow, and he pulled Eijirou along with him as he started walking.

“But what about the guy we were supposed to, uh,” Eijirou blinked. “Oranges are orange. Lemons are yellow. Bananas are yellow. Aha! We were supposed to catch the guy, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, but who the fuck knows where he went after he got you, at this point,” Bakugou said, fingers tightening just a tad. “It’s whatever.“

Eijirou squinted at his friend. “Strawberries are red, raspberries are pink.”

“Why are you obsessed with fruit?” Bakugou asked.

“Hush, I’m just trying to find easy true things to say,” Eijirou said, and that was true, too. His memory of the morning was trickling back as he spoke. “Lettuce is green, cabbage is green, celery is green, uh, leaves are green, my hair is red, um, blueberries are blue!”

Aha!

“Hey!” Eijirou cried. “You were there! You were just behind the corner of the building! You could’ve gone after him!”

“What, and I shoulda left your sorry ass on the ground for anyone to find?” Bakugou scoffed. “The pros can handle the villain. Or what are they fucking for?”

“Wow,” Eijirou said. “That’s surprisingly mature and attractive of you.”

Wait.

Bakugou stopped.

Wait, no-

“What?”

“Uh,” Eijirou said, faced with a Bakugou with one of his eyebrows arched like that. “I said you were being mature?”

“And the other part?” Bakugou asked, voice as flat as a sheet of paper.

Eijirou said nothing, and then winced as he stomach started hurting again.

Bakugou must have noticed, because he scowled and used his grip on Eijirou to tug him closer. “Say it again.”

“It,” Eijirou said, matching Bakugou’s scowl at the word. “Don’t use this quirk against me, man.”

Bakugou let go of his arm and took a step backwards.

“That’s not-” he began. Eijirou watched his frown morph into frustration. “Let’s just go. Can you walk by yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Eijirou said, honestly. The pain in his stomach subsided. Alright, so this quirk was officially Annoying.

Bakugou growled and seized his elbow again.

Eijirou sat at the edge of the bed in the school hospital wing, kicking his legs back and forth and glaring at the floor. Fat Gum had sent him back to Yuuei, and Recovery Girl had inspected him thoroughly. “Apples can be different colours. Apples can be red, apples can be green, apples can be yellow.”

He heaved a great sigh. There wasn’t really anything that anyone could do about this quirk until it wore off. Eijirou had asked if there was a truth-compulsion aspect to it - something to explain why exactly he’d said what he’d said to Bakugou earlier - but it wasn’t on the villain’s records. That didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t, only that it hadn’t been noticed in other victims.

“Ah, Kirishima! You may return to your dorm room,” Recovery Girl said, walking into the room from her office. “Though come back at any time should you feel like the effects of this quirk are overwhelming you.”

“I will!” Eijirou said. “Thank you.”

“I believe that a friend of yours is waiting outside for you as well,” Recovery Girl said.

Oh?

Eijirou thanked the old woman again and walked out into the hallway. Ah. Bakugou. He was leaning on the wall across from the nurse’s office and scowling into the middle-distance, though he looked up at the sound of the door. Eijirou’s stomach flipped, though maybe not entirely because of the quirk.

“Hey,” Eijirou said. He wasn’t sure of Bakugou was going to bring up that thing he’d said earlier or not.

Bakugou nodded at him. and turned to start walking down the hall. “You got the all-clear?”

“Yeah, as long as I keep saying true stuff!” Eijirou said, jogging a couple of steps to catch up to him. “I’m thinking that I’ll load up Wikipedia and just, like, read it aloud as needed until the quirk wears off.”

“Huh,” Bakugou said. “Smart.”

Eijirou felt himself flushing. “Ah, not really.”

Bakugou eyed him, and then his expression turned furious. “You actually believe that you- Ugh. Coming up with that shit is fucking clever. Don’t sell yourself short like that.”

“Uh,” Eijirou said. “Um. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou scoffed. They continued walking in silence after that, Eijirou’s heart pounding far too wildly in his chest.

They stopped outside Eijirou’s door, but before Eijirou could open it, Bakugou put a hand on his chest to stop him. Eijirou turned and he knew his eyes were probably too wide, but Bakugou’s hand was warm even through his t-shirt.

“Hey, leave your door unlocked,” Bakugou said. What? “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?!” Eijirou’s voice squeaked out half an octave higher than usual, ah fuck.

“Just- Forget it. I don’t know what time limit is on this stupid quirk bullshit, but you’re gonna need to sleep,” Bakugou said. “And if it turns your brain to mush again while you’re sleeping then someone’s gonna have to go in and talk you into clarity.”

Eijirou hadn’t thought about that. “Oh. Makes sense.”

“Mm,” Bakugou said, his fingers splaying a little on Eijirou’s chest before he pulled his hand away. “So shout if you need me, Kirishima.”

Bakugou flashed him a grin - a grin - and twisted away to his own room. Eijirou was left standing there, unsure if the butterflies in his stomach were quirk induced or not.

“Bakugou is so cool,” Eijirou whispered. Not the quirk, then.

“Hey! Hey, can you speak?”

“Nn… Yes.”

“Good. Do you know your name?”

“Uh…”

“Fuck, okay, how are you feeling?”

“Bad. Real bad. Hurts.”

“When we catch this fuck I’m gonna kill him.”

“Bakugou?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

There was something heavy on each of his shoulders. Eijirou groaned and felt himself fall forward onto something warm. “I got hit by a quirk.”

“That’s right.”

“I gotta say things that are true,” Eijirou said, pressing his face into the warm thing.

“Or your brain shorts out worse than Dunce Face, yeah,” Bakugou said. Weird, the warm thing had rumbled along with his words.

…

Eijirou opened his eyes. Huh, yeah, his face was currently buried in the crook of Bakugou’s neck. It was Bakugou’s hands he could feel on his shoulders. Eijirou took a moment to assess the whole situation as best he could. The light in his bedroom was on, but he had no idea what the time was. He was sitting up, well, slouched forwards a little. Bakugou was kneeling over his legs on top of the duvet.

“Uhhh,” Eijirou said. “What are you doing?”

“There you are,” Bakugou said from somewhere just above Eijirou’s ear. Eijirou let Bakugou push him backwards. “You were screaming, so I come in to stop you.”

Eijirou couldn’t say anything for a moment, distracted by Bakugou’s eyes roving his warming face. “Augh, I don’t remember. What time is it?”

“Like, four or some shit.”

Eijirou groaned.

“Tell me some more fruit colours,” Bakugou said. “Until you’re completely here.”

“It’s four in the morning, I’m not gonna be completely here,” Eijirou grumbled. Bakugou just looked at him. “Fine, uh, Limes are green, pineapples are yellow on the inside and brown on the outside, dragonfruit are pink with white flesh.”

“Good. Go back to sleep,” Bakugou said. He was still sitting on Eijirou’s legs.

Eijirou pressed his hands into his eyes. “This sucks.”

“I’m staying here,” announced Bakugou, finally rolling off Eijirou’s legs and coming to rest between Eijirou and the wall. Wait, what? “I’ll be closer to head this thing off before you get bad again.”

“You don’t have to,” Eijirou began, watching Bakugou slide himself under the covers with a feeling of dumbfoundment. “Do… That…”

Bakugou snorted. “This shit is stressing me out, so I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

Eijirou had no idea how to take that, so he tried to joke about it instead. “Aw, Blasty, are you worried about me?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou said, without hesitation. Eijirou felt himself go red - redder. Well, there went Eijirou’s last chance at retaining his composure. “Stop thinkin’ so hard and go the fuck to sleep.”

Bakugou rolled over to face the wall, back to Eijirou. Okay. Okay. Without Bakugou’s eyes on him he could probably manage to sleep. Yeah. Only now he could hear Bakugou breathing, and the heat radiating off of him was stronger than Eijirou had imagined.

Maybe he’d imagined this a little too much.

“I can hear your brain whirring,” Bakugou grunted. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“You’re warm,” Eijirou said, without thinking. Whoops. Maybe it was the speech quirk.

Eijirou imagined that Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Hah? ‘Course I am, it’s part of my quirk.”

“I, uh,” Eijirou swallowed. “I never noticed before.”

“Is it too warm for you to sleep?” Bakugou asked.

Eijirou thought about that for a few moments. “No.”

“Then what’s your fuckin’ problem?”

Eijirou shook his head, even if Bakugou couldn’t see him. “No problem, man. I’m just overthinking.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou snorted, and reached behind to elbow Eijirou’s chest. “Like I said. Go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Eijirou said, though he wasn’t sure if his racing heartbeat would help with that or not. He suspected the latter. “Night, Bakugou.”

“Night, Kirishima.”

Eijirou had sort of been hoping to wake up and see Bakugou still sleeping next to him. The early morning sun would have been shining, enough so that a sunbeam shone through a chink in the curtains and turned Bakugou’s hair into a halo of gold. Eijirou would have drawn in a gasp at the sight of it, and Bakugou’s eyes would have fluttered open and met his. Bakugou would have been soft with sleep for a moment, and Eijirou would have given him a shy smile and a ‘good morning’. Eijirou had been picturing it for quite some time now.

Instead of all that, however, Eijirou woke up to a cold bed and a blinding headache.

It was sort of how he imagined waking up to a hangover must feel like. He groaned, one hand flying to his forehead. “Ow, fuck.”

There was a sound from across the room, and Eijirou squinted over to see Bakugou just turning to look at him from Eijirou’s desk chair. Oh! He was still sort of here! Maybe he’d woken up early and got bored? Had he been doing work while Eijirou was asleep? How long had Bakugou been up?

“The sky is blue, grass is green,” Eijirou said to try and clear the headache away. He glanced at the clock. “Wh- It’s eleven! I overslept! We’re late to class!”

“Nah,” Bakugou said, and Eijirou paused in his mad scramble to get out from under his duvet.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been pulled out of classes for a few days until this quir wears off. You need to say stuff out loud too often and it could be ‘disruptive’,” Bakugou said, with a derisive snort.

“Right,” Eijirou said. That made sense. However… “Why are you still here, then?”

“Someone needs to babysit you,” Bakugou said, turning back to what he was working on and moving some of the paper around. He stood. “Aizawa gave me the worksheets for today, if you’re up for it.”

“What, now?” Eijirou blinked.

Bakugou snorted and made for the door. “No, dumbass. You need to get dressed and eat something first.”

“Oh,” Eijirou said. He couldn’t tell if his brain was frazzled from the quirk, from just waking up, or the way Bakugou smirked at him when he left through the door.

He left through the door.

Eijirou lurched upwards and staggered towards his door. He wrenched it open, a ‘wait’ building on his lips, only to be met by one of Bakugou’s raised eyebrows and a pair of crossed arms.

“I said get dressed,” Bakugou said, sounding a little amused. “Once you are, come downstairs.”

“Uh huh,” Eijirou said. He stood there, staring at Bakugou for a few more moments.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, grabbed Eijirou’s shoulders, and twisted him around to face his room again. Bakugou shoved him - not hard - and Eijirou walked back into his room.

“Clothes, Kirishima,” Bakugou said. Eijirou looked down at his Crimson Riot pyjamas. “And say some true stuff!”

“I’m screwed,” Eijirou whispered to himself as he heard Bakugou’s stomping footsteps fade towards the lift.

Eijirou was pretty sure that he’d like, fallen into an alternate universe or something, because the universe itself was catering to his whims. Maybe this was some sort of karmic reward for having to go through this speech quirk. Maybe it was all a happy accident.

Eijirou wanted to spend time with Bakugou? Well, here, have a few days of his undivided attention where he cooks you meals and tutors you and your knees and arms keep brushing. Here, he’s now taken to sleeping in your bed so you don’t go through a brain mush attack. Here, he’s even sticking around when the rest of your friends bundle into your room after classes, where normally he’d wrinkle up his nose and leave them all to be loud.

Why Bakugou hadn’t thrown up any complaints about missing classes was a question that weighed a little on Eijirou’s mind, but, well. He hadn’t. Eijirou had tried to ask him about it, but Bakugou had deflected by saying that he didn’t care, and that they could catch up with after-school lessons, and that Eijirou’s brain function was a little more important than a grade. So. Eijirou just had to assume that this was the full-throttle version of Bakugou’s worry about him.

It was fantastic, and really sweet actually, but Eijirou’s poor gay heart was suffering. It was working overtime, all the time. And… Eijirou was beginning to suspect that a lot of this was intentional on Bakugou’s part.

Ever since Eijirou had slipped and called Bakugou attractive, it almost sort of seemed like Bakugou was being, well, flirty. It was a word that Eijirou hesitated to use, because it was Bakugou, and flirty was not a word Eijirou ever would have associated with him.

Like, right now, Eijirou was in his room and sat on his bed. Bakugou was next to him, leaning on the headboard with his legs stretched out next to Eijirou’s with a book in his hands. Kaminari was at the foot of the bed, sitting with his legs crossed and chattering away about what had happened in lessons today. The only problem Eijirou had with this was that he couldn’t concentrate on what Kaminari was saying.

Bakugou’s foot was moving. Against Eijirou’s ankle. It was the kind of movement that might be unconscious on his friend’s part, but it was also Bakugou’s foot on his ankle. Well, Bakugou was wearing socks - black ones with a gaudy flame pattern that Eijirou had bought for him - but that only added to the sensation. The soft fabric was lighting up part of Eijirou’s Good Feeling section in his brain.

Eijirou watched Kaminari explain something Iida said, mimicking the class president’s unique hand motions, but none of the words managed to slide into his ears. Or if they did, they didn’t linger much. Bakugou’s foot kept moving, rhythmic, in slow circles. Eijirou was pretty sure he was gonna die.

Nausea curled though his gut. At least he’d figured out that he could just say the same true thing over and over again to stave off the steadily-dwindling effects of the quirk. “The sky is blue, ah, sorry Kaminari! Keep going.”

“No prob, man,” Kaminari said, continuing his spiel. Eijirou tried his best to listen this time. “Uh, so. I said it probably wasn’t possible, y’know? But the Prez said it again and he sounded all sure of stuff so now I think I’m gonna sign up for classes at least? Maybe not now, but, at some point. Maybe I’ll turn out as good as you once I get some practice in!”

Eijirou blinked. “As good as me for what?”

Kaminari raised an eyebrow. “Man, you’re really out of it, huh? Art, man! I doodle stuff but I’ve never been serious about it. You’re like, hella good at that stuff.”

Eijirou tried not to notice Bakugou nodding to that.

“Ah, I mean, I don’t think I’m that good,” Eijirou said, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand.

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath that Eijirou didn’t catch. Kaminari’s eyes widened slightly. Had he heard what Bakugou had said? Eijirou opened his mouth to ask, but Kaminari began speaking too soon.

“Naw, your stuff’s great! You’ve obviously put work into it,” Kaminari said. He pulled a face. “You agree with me, right Bakugou?”

Bakugou looked up from his book and eyed the other blond. Eijirou almost laughed at the twist of emotions on his face - and they were there, if you really looked. Bakugou wanted to refute Kaminari’s claims - the idea of actively being called to agree with anyone else on anything rankled at him constantly. On the other hand, he knew Bakugou had a Thing about Eijirou putting himself down and approved of trying to fix that by offering compliments.

“Ugh, I guess,” Bakugou said, eventually. He glanced at Eijirou and Eijirou’s heart fluttered. “If you put that much fucking intent into revision, you’d be top of the class.”

Eijirou updated his mental Cause of Death form with ‘cute boy told me I was clever in a roundabout way’. It was one of the frequent offenders. “Aww, thanks dude! Ah, both of you!“

Kaminari snorted. “Oh, I’m used to the favouritism you two have for each other by now.”

Eijirou felt himself turn red. Bakugou’s foot didn’t stop.

“Ooh, and I have homework to catch up on!” Kaminari said, winking. Winking? Really? “So I’ll leave you two alone, yeah?”

Eijirou didn’t even have time to bluster weakly before Kaminari was out of the room. “Uh.”

“He thinks we’re dating,” Bakugou said, in the most conversational tone that Eijirou had ever heard from him.

WAIT WHAT?

“He- He what?” Eijirou sputtered. “Where- What?”

“I said,” Bakugou was speaking slowly now and fixing Eijirou with a strange, challenging glare. “Pikachu thinks that we’re dating.”

“Dating?” Eijirou breathed. “B- Uh.”

Bakugou looked back down at his book. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Eijirou’s brain came to a screeching halt, and he just gaped at his friend. His friend whose foot was still drawing circles on his ankle. This- This was definitely flirting, right? Bakugou was flirting with him? What was he supposed to do? Flirt back? Ask him out? Did Bakugou want to date him or was this, uh, something else?

“We’re not dating, but,” Eijirou said, pausing for a moment to swallow. Bakugou’s eyes flicked back up to his. “Would you wanna fix that?”

Bakugou closed his book and threw it off the side of the bed. “You askin’ me out?”

Eijirou nodded, not trusting himself to speak out loud.

“Then yeah,” Bakugou said, glancing away for a moment and looking back at Eijirou. “That’d be good.”

Eijirou felt kind of like a hot-air balloon. He felt warm all over, and something in his chest was expanding and growing lighter than air. He felt like he could soar, and float above the world, and he would want for nothing but to rise higher and higher with the roar of Bakugou’s fire being all that he needed.

He twisted from where he sat, grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt and bringing their foreheads together. He couldn’t fight the smile off his face - not that he wanted to - and it seemed like Bakugou was in the same boat.

“Can I kiss you?” Eijirou asked, and he knew his voice was a little too breathy but he really didn’t care.

“On one condition,” Bakugou said, reaching up to hold either side of Eijirou’s face. “I get to kiss you first.”

Eijirou was about to remark that, yeah, that’s kind of how kissing worked, but then all thoughts fled from his mind as Bakugou’s lips brushed the corner of his mouth. Oh. Eijirou’s eyes fluttered closed as Bakugou laid his kiss there. It was so soft, so sweet, so tender, and the balloon of joy in his chest swelled and swelled. He was pretty sure he’d hit the upper atmosphere by now, because his breath had been well and truly stolen.

Eijirou opened his eyes when Bakugou pulled back, and they stared at each other for a few long moments. Then Eijirou tugged on Bakugou’s shirt and pulled him into the kiss he’d been dreaming of for months.

A few days after that, and the speech quirk had worn off completely. It was a relief. The relief was doubled when Fat Gum texted Eijirou to let him know that the villain had been apprehended. Eijirou would have to attend court as a witness during the judiciary process, but that was all part and parcel of hero work anyway. It’d be interesting to get that sort of experience.

Eijirou was, however, already worried about how he was going to wear his hair for such formal proceedings.

Telling their friends and the rest of their classmates that Eijirou and Katsuki were now dating had gone smoothly. Well, it hadn’t so much been telling anyone as it had been that Katsuki was as unconcerned with onlookers as ever. He had no qualms about PDA, and had kissed Eijirou at the end of a class hero exercise where they had been teamed up together and won.

So, that was one way to get the message across.

Eijirou curled his fingers into Katsuki’s as they sat down for lunch outside under one of the trees. Katsuki squeezed Eijirou’s fingers back and left their hands linked as he tucked into his food.

Eijirou smiled.

#kiribaku #bakushima #fanfiction #my fanfiction #drabble #reply #maplefudge #THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE

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