Chapter Text
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Bakugou sat at the bar nursing his own resolve rather than a drink. He had no intention of indulging in alcohol tonight—not when he had to drive his two best friends home. The fact that Kirishima had already taken down a few drinks was evident by the way he swayed in his seat, laughter bubbling over at all the wrong moments, and Denki, while slightly more composed, had that tipsy glimmer in his eyes.
“Let’s get out of here,” Bakugou finally said, pushing himself off the bar. He watched as Kirishima enthusiastically dived into another round of laughter, oblivious to the world around him, while Denki nodded, albeit a bit more slowly, still caught up in the remnants of merriment.
Once outside, the fresh night air hit them, a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar. Bakugou led the way to the car, the sound of his boots crunching on the pavement steady and assured. Kirishima stumbled slightly, wrapping an arm around Denki's waist for balance, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the bustling city night.
They climbed into the car, Kirishima sinking into the back seat with a goofy grin plastered on his face. Denki squeezed into the middle, still chuckling at something Kirishima had said, the content almost lost on Bakugou. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he could feel the weight of the night pressing down again, the unresolved tension swirling uncomfortably in the confined space.
“Buckle up, you idiots,” Bakugou grumbled, initiating the drive. He turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life, and with a flick of the wrist, he switched on the dashboard lights. The car illuminated their faces briefly, showing the mix of joy and intoxication.
As they hit the road, the city lights blurred outside, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off the windshield. The silence in the car was palpable, almost deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the engine and the occasional banter from the backseat. Kirishima kept nudging Denki, each poke drawing a snicker or an exasperated sigh from Denki, but Bakugou felt the contrast of their fun against the brewing tension inside him.
The drive felt longer than usual. Every red light felt agonizingly slow, each moment stretching as the air thickened with unspoken words. Bakugou gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he fought against the urge to voice his thoughts. The gap between him and Denki felt monumental, an invisible wall that both boys were itching to dismantle.
When they finally arrived at Kirishima’s house, Bakugou pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, the engine winding down with a gentle rumble. “Okay, you both out,” he commanded, though the words lacked any real bite. Kirishima tried to clamber out quickly, but ended up tripping over his own feet, erupting into another fit of giggles as Denki helped him steady himself.
Denki glanced back at Bakugou. “Hey, I’ll sit up front with you for the ride home,” he suggested, a playful smile dancing on his lips.
As Denki slid into the passenger seat, the moment felt charged, an electric current humming in the air between them. Denki buckled up, casting a sideways glance at Bakugou, who kept his focus on the road ahead, but the tension radiating in the car was practically palpable.
The silence hung heavily, both boys acutely aware of it, yet neither daring to shatter it. Bakugou could almost hear the words swirling in Denki’s mind, just as he felt the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him. The finish in the studio, the feelings they both skirted around, it all danced just outside their grasp.
Finally, the silence became unbearable. Denki cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… the new song, huh?”
“Yeah, it was good,” Bakugou replied curtly, the familiar defensiveness creeping back in but also a quiet pride mingled with it. “We make a good team.”
“You think so?” Denki's tone was hopeful, eyes searching Bakugou’s face for validation. “I mean, it felt different. Like, in a good way. We really worked well together.”
Bakugou felt his heart race, conflicted by the moment. “We’re always better together,” he shot back, irritation shining through the edges of his words, softening as he added, “You know that.”
“Yeah, I do,” Denki replied, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I just… I wish we didn’t have to go through all that awkwardness. I hated it.”
Bakugou’s grip on the wheel tightened again, the reminder of their past conflict lingering in the air. “Yeah, me too,” he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically honest. “But we’re here now, right? Let’s just focus on moving forward.”
“Right,” Denki nodded enthusiastically, though Bakugou could see the hesitation lingering in his gaze. The two friends shared a moment of understanding, a silent agreement to navigate the complexity of their friendship together.
As they pulled away from Kirishima’s house, the tension began to ease, a breath of fresh air in the heavy silence. With every mile they traveled, the familiarity of their routine began to seep back in, and Bakugou found a flicker of hope that perhaps this conversation was just the beginning of repairing what had been broken.
╰┈➤
As Bakugou pulled up to Denki’s house, the familiar sight of the brightly lit porch welcomed them. He shifted the car into park, the engine rumbling down to a low hum. Turning to Denki, he noticed the way the moonlight caught in his friend’s hair, highlighting the vibrancy that usually illuminated the room when they were together.
“Thanks for the ride man,” Denki said, his voice a bit soft as he flashed that cheeky grin that always sent Bakugou’s heart into a reluctant flutter. “Really appreciate it.”
Bakugou smirked, shrugging off the gratitude. “Yeah, yeah. I’m always here to get your lightweight ass home. You can’t handle your drinks.” His tone was playful, but there was a warmth beneath it that he didn’t want to acknowledge too closely.
Denki rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. “I’m not even that drunk,” he shot back, feigning indignation. “You’re just jealous you didn’t have anything to drink tonight.”
“Jealous? Hardly. Just pointing out that you were two drinks away from singing show tunes in the bar.” Bakugou leaned back in his seat, arms crossed with a smug expression, satisfied by the light banter that reminded him of the old days when laughter was constant between them.
Denki huffed dramatically, shaking his head. “Yeah, right! I could totally handle more. You don't even know my drinking capacity!”
“Oh really? Prove it then,” Bakugou challenged, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head slightly. “If you’re not drunk, show me.”
Denki paused, caught off guard by the challenge. There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes, and for a moment, there was silence, a charged atmosphere hanging in the air. Bakugou’s heart raced, the weight of the moment palpable. But instead of trying to balance on one foot or break into an impromptu dance, Denki shifted in his seat, the playful aura morphing into something deeper. Suddenly, he leaned over the center console, surprising Bakugou. Before he could react, Denki closed the distance and pressed his lips against Bakugou’s.
A jolt ran through Bakugou, sending shockwaves through him. It felt electric and disarming, the world outside the car fading into nothingness as he froze in that moment. Denki’s lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly bold. It was a kiss filled with the energy and longing they had both avoided discussing, a burst of impulsive bravery that shattered the silence between them.
Bakugou’s hands tightened on the steering wheel for a heartbeat longer, then instinct kicked in. He pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with disbelief and confusion. “What the hell was that?” His voice was a mix of surprise and a slight edge of anger, the defensive wall that always seemed to rocket up when his emotions got too raw.
Denki’s face flushed with color, realization dawning in his eyes as he stumbled over his words. “I— I don’t know! I just… it felt like the right moment, okay?”
The silence seemed to stretch infinitely, the air thick and charged with uncertainty. Bakugou found himself battling the swirl of emotions inside him—frustration, confusion, and an undeniable spark of exhilaration. “You can’t just kiss someone out of nowhere, you idiot!”
“Why not?” Denki shot back, half-challenging, half-defensively. “It’s not like I didn’t want to! You just… I didn’t know how to say it! We’ve been acting like everything’s fine, but—”
“Yeah, but—” Bakugou interrupted, his voice rising. Yet, there was a slight tremor of vulnerability beneath the frustration. “You think I’m just going to let you spring that on me? Do you have any idea what you just did?”
Bakugou stared at Denki, heart pounding in his chest, the tension hanging between them almost unbearable. In a moment of impulse, he grabbed Denki's shirt, tugging him closer until their faces were inches apart. “Fuck it,” he muttered, the resolve he felt crashing over him like a tidal wave.
Before Denki could flash that surprised look again, Bakugou surged forward, crashing his lips against Denki’s with a fervor that made Denki gasp in shock. The kiss was urgent, hungry, a collision of pent-up feelings and unspoken desires that had been building inside Bakugou for far too long. Their mouths moved together, pushing and pulling, each seeking the warmth of the other.
As they kissed, Bakugou could feel the world around them fade into a blur—the car, the streetlights, the night air—all of it ceased to exist. It was just him and Denki, tangled in this moment. He felt Denki’s hands move to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly as if to anchor himself in this unexpected yet desired connection.
“Damn it, I’ve wanted to do this for ages…” Bakugou whispered against Denki’s lips, his voice rough and ardent. Each word spilled out between breaths, a confession wrapped in the chaos of their kiss.
He pulled away just momentarily, searching Denki’s eyes, seeing the bewilderment blended with something warmer—something that mirrored the longing he felt. “It’s wrong, I know,” Bakugou continued, not giving Denki a chance to respond, his own words tumbling out in a rush. “Things have been… complicated. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”
Denki's eyes widened, surprise mingled with a hint of recognition. “Bakugou, I—”
But Bakugou leaned in again, crushing their lips together, drowning out Denki’s protest with urgency. The kiss deepened, the warmth flooding between them as Bakugou poured everything he had into that moment—the frustration from the past weeks, the longing that had lingered since their earlier fallout, and his fierce need to bridge the gap that had formed between them.
Each kiss was a declaration, a way to assert that he wanted Denki, that he was more than ready to traverse the painful territories of their friendship. He grasped Denki’s shirt tighter, pulling him closer, feeling the pulse of Denki’s heartbeat against his own.
Bakugou pulled back slightly, breaths mingling, their foreheads touching. “Don’t say fucking anything,” he breathed out, vulnerability slipping through his usual bravado; their lips finding each others once again.