Bakugou

The last few days leading up to Spring Break felt fucking long. The entire campus seemed like it was ready collapse into Spring Break, and no one—least of all Bakugou—could concentrate very well in any class. Most of the teachers were feeling it, too, and more than half of Bakugou's decided to trash their lesson plans for the last two days and either put on some film relevant to their subject or, in one case, let the class do whatever the fuck they wanted and call it 'study time' until the bell rang.

And of course, when the eighth period bell rang, not even that put an end to his waiting. At the last damn second of seventh, Dumb Hair told him he wanted to go to the stupid barbecue.

"If it's alright with you, anyway," he'd said.

How the hell could Bakugou say no? It was like one dumb little look from Kirishima had him giving in even though there was no way he'd go to the barbecue otherwise or for any other reason—not even free food. But it was Kiri-fucking-shima, who had him wrapped right around his finger.

The whole fucking school was there, too, on the track field where they were serving the food. Crowds of people mulled about, eating and talking, some already with their shitty suitcases like they were planning on grabbing food and escaping as soon as they could. Bakugou had to admit he was a bit jealous of them for it, but he still didn't regret his decision to let Kirishima drag him along by the hand toward where the rest of the group was standing near the drinks looking way too fucking happy.

Admittedly, it wasn't too bad hanging out with them a little while longer while they ate. The dumb barbecue didn't last all that long as it was; less than an hour in, people were already heading out, hopping into cars with their parents or whoever, or heading to the bus stop. It felt like he and Kirishima were some of the last few off campus when they finally went back for their bags and headed for the stop themselves.

"'S only about an hour to the station closest to my house by bus," he said when they sat down to wait. "And then we only have to walk a few blocks to get there."

"Ugh," Bakugou mumbled.

"Aw c'mon, man. I thought you liked walking."

"I do, but not when there's a hundred fucking pounds of shit on my back."

"Hey, you didn't pack that much."

"...whatever."

The bus pulled up soon after, brakes squealing obnoxiously as it slowed to a halt. Bakugou was the first to stand up among the two of them, making sure he was the first one on. He wasn't about to let Kirishima get all the glory of paying for everything, even if his family was 'better off than most' or whatever. He slid his card through the reader before Dumb Hair could even blink. To Bakugou's surprise, he didn't say a thing as they took their seats, either.

The ride felt shorter than he'd anticipated. Bakugou fucking hated long car rides, and being on a bus with more than a dozen other people, and with all the shitty bumps in the road only made it worse. Thankfully the hour felt more like half an hour, what with Kirishima keeping him distracted with his stupid YouTube videos for most of the trip. Even when they finally made it to their stop, he was in too good of a mood to even complain about the fact that 'a few blocks' turned out to be more like a mile... and that a lot of it was uphill. (And damn was he glad he stayed in shape...)

Bakugou didn't really know what he'd been expecting when they got to Kirishima's house, but he sure as fuck wasn't expecting what he saw. It was fucking huge, at least in comparison to his tiny, two-storey house tucked into a typical neighborhood.

Kirishima's house was in a neighborhood, but the houses were five times as spread out as the one Bakugou was used to. From the outside alone he could tell there were at least three floors, and it had big windows and a few small balconies and was constructed of what looked like some expensive-as-fuck brick. It was clearly some upper-middle class shit Bakugou had never really even seen before.

"What the fuck?" he blurted, stopping in his tracks just before Dumb Hair started up the stone—yes, fucking stone—walkway toward the big double doors.

"What?" Dumb Hair asked, turning around.

But Bakugou wasn't even looking at him. He was still staring at the house. "You didn't tell me you live in a mini fucking mansion."

Bakugou felt the smile more than he saw it. "'S not really a mansion," he said. "We inherited it when my dad passed away. I already told you I'm not rich or anything."

Someone obviously had been, though, or at least damn close to it.

As he followed Kirishima the rest of the way up to the door, he found himself asking, "Remind me what the hell your mom does for a living again..."

"She's a massage therapist," Dumb Hair told him simply, twisting his key in the lock to push the door open. "I told you, man. We're not rich. The house is already completely paid for so mom only has to pay for basic stuff, like utilities and all that, which is why she has the extra money. This house was my grandparents' and was left to my dad, but since he's gone we got it. I promise it's not a big deal."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Bakugou mumbled (even though he still wasn't entirely convinced).

He half expected the door to open into a huge foyer or someshit, with glass chandeliers and all that other ridiculous bullshit you see in movies, but it didn't. It opened into a normal, carpeted living room—a huge living room, at that, but a living room nonetheless. It had high ceilings and windows. Paintings, some Bakugou immediately recognized as Kirishima's art, decorated the walls. There was a pretty damn big leather couch and a few matching reclining chairs facing inward towards a wall-mounted television. And while this one room was fancy in and of itself (at least, in Bakugou's opinion), it was still homey. It held a specific kind of smell and there were clear signs it was lived in, and not just some room out of some home magazine or whatever.

"Uh, so Mom doesn't like dirt tracked in, so take your shoes off here," Kirishima told him once inside the door, pointing to a small mat where he'd kicked his own shoes off. Still gawking like an idiot at the living room, Bakugou fumbled to do the same.

"C'mon, let's go put our stuff up in my room and I'll show you around," Kirishma was saying, already halfway to the stairs. Bakugou managed to tear his eyes away and follow him up.

Kirishima's room was almost twice the freaking size of Bakugou's at home, and very nearly as big as the dorm they shared back at school. The idiot had his own queen sized bed and television on top of a stand with a few different gaming systems sitting in the cubby hole. There was even a corner with a freaking easel and a desk filled with art supplies. Not only that, but across the room from the door was a set of freaking glass doors, leading out onto a goddamn balcony.

"Baku, relax," Kirishima said, though not without an amused grin on his face as he dumped his things on the end of his bed. "It's just a room."

"It's fucking huge," Bakugou muttered.

Kirishima shrugged. "Yeah. I got lucky, I guess. My mom's room is bigger, though. But seriously, it's just a normal house, even if it's a little bigger than the average home."

Bakugou managed to keep his face nonchalant as he dropped his shit next to the other's. Once he got over the shock of the fact that his boyfriend's room was ridiculous, he took a moment to actually look around. There were posters but no paintings. But of course there weren't—Kirishima was too damn humble to hang his own paintings up in his room, meaning the ones Bakugou had seen downstairs and in the hallway were probably there because of his mom.

The posters were of different bands, mostly, but he had a few from video games and movies, too. The walls underneath were a simple white, and the bedsheets were typical of Kirishima—red. A few clearly used skateboards were hung on what looked like a hand-crafted wooden rack above the bed. There was a single lamp on the table beside the bed, the only other light fixture being from the redwood fan in the ceiling—not that it was needed. The damn balcony doors let in plenty of daylight.

"C'mon, take off your backpack. I wanna show you the rest of the house... I mean, as long as you promise not to freak out on me," Dumb Hair said with a laugh that, even with the distraction of everything around him as he took it all in, still made Bakugou's insides flutter.

It felt kind of dumb to hold Kirishima's hand as they walked through the house, but Bakugou wasn't about to let go once the other's fingers threaded gently through his own. In a sort of daze, he let his boyfriend lead him around the place.

His mom's room was bigger; Bakugou was pretty sure he could drop his own room inside of it and completely fucking lose it. Of course, that shit had its own bathroom and a balcony, too, overlooking the backyard that, for some reason, Dumb Hair wouldn't let him see yet. The last bedroom on that floor was merely a guest room that Kirishima only briefly pointed out before heading toward the bathroom that was clearly primarily his, judging by the red shower curtain going around the... rather large round bathtub with not one, not two, but three goddamn shower heads on the ceiling. Again, Bakugou was pretty sure he'd lose his own bathroom in this one.

All the first floor consisted of was the huge living room, a kitchen, and a dining room where there was, of fucking course, a third set of glass doors leading out into the backyard and onto a large covered, concrete patio.

Bakugou... really, really shouldn't have been surprised to find a pool back there, too, built into the ground and filled with blue, chlorine-scented water and everything. And he should've expected it when Dumb Hair told him it was heated, and because they rarely got any snow they didn't have to drain it every year.

The basement was the last thing Kirishima showed him, or so he thought. It was considerably smaller than he was expecting, given the rest of the house, but it was immediately his favorite part. It was dark, completely underground, and had what looked like some sort of freaking studio lighting. The sectional couch facing a huge brick fireplace with another TV mounted above it was somehow even bigger than the one in the living room and took up most of the space. There was a bar area, too, and a table that looked like it was for Poker or something.

Seriously, the only thing keeping Bakugou from thinking he was walking through a designer fucking house, even if it wasn't as big as an actual mansion, was the evidence it was lived in. It was clean, but not spotless. Some of the furniture had clear wear and scratches, there were spots where the carpet was frayed or the wood floor was scuffed. There were dishes in the kitchen sink waiting to be washed and the bathrooms Had a few things laying around on the sink. The fireplace in the basement was clearly used often, and not everything was completely and utterly organized in cabinets like he half expected them to be.

"This room's my favorite," Dumb Hair said, somehow mirroring Bakugou's thoughts exactly, "second only to the garage."

Immediately, Bakugou gave him a confused look. "The fuck? The garage?"

"Aw, you don't remember?" Kirishima said, smiling.

"Huh?"

"S'okay. I told you a long time ago. C'mon, I'll show you."

Bakugou let himself once again be led by the hand back across the house and to a door in the dining room he hadn't even noticed before. It led to a three-car garage, a third of it taken up by a large workbench and tools. A lot of tools, and paint. In the center of it, clearly untouched for weeks, if not months, was a slab of wood in the shape of a polished skateboard.

"Holy shit, you weren't fucking kidding," he blurted.

"What, did you think I was?" Kirishima asked as he led him toward the table.

"No. I dunno..."

"This is the one I told you about before," the other continued, running his hands along the smooth wood. "It's probably the sturdiest one I've made yet. I finished the base over Winter Break, but I wasn't able to start painting yet."

"And you seriously did all this shit yourself?" Bakugou was still gawking idiotically at all the tools, some he recognized and could probably name, others completely foreign to him. Shit, he was impressed!

"Yep. 'S why my hands are a little rough." Kirishima held up the hand that wasn't occupied by Bakugou's. "It's worth it, though."

"Obviously," Bakugou muttered. He fucking liked the roughness of Kirishima's hands, though they weren't all that bad.

"Sooo," Dumb Hair said, dragging out the word. "Whattaya think?"

For the first time in probably ten minutes, Bakugou's eyes met his boyfriend's. "Of what? This giant ass house or this?" he asked, gesturing at the work table.

"Both."

"...I dunno," Bakugou mumbled, already glancing away again. "'S pretty cool, I guess." Fuck, he hated blushing, but already he felt that shitty warmth rising to his face, especially when Dumb Hair laughed and bumped shoulders with him.

"C'mon, you know you're at least a little impressed," he said. "'S fine. I'm not judging."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Bakugou mumbled.

When Kirishima's stupid, melodic laughter died down he said, "Anyway, ya hungry? I asked Mom to stock the kitchen before she left so there's probably somethin' I can whip together."

"Since when do you cook?" Bakugou asked in disbelief.

Kirishima shrugged. "Since a while. I can make basic stuff, like mac and cheese and spaghetti, but 's not like I can make a whole Christmas dinner or anything."

Bakugou let out a snort. "I'd be surprised if you could."

"Heyy, are you doubting my skills?" Kirishima joked as they headed back toward the door.

"I dunno, does it sound like I am?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then yes, I am," Bakugou said, but even he had a grin.

"Hmph. Watch me prove you wrong, then," Dumb Hair said proudly as they stepped back into the house. "And then you will be impressed!"

"We'll see about that," retorted Bakugou just as the other let go of his hand and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to follow on his own.

Honestly, Bakugou was impressed, to say the least. It wasn't like he didn't believe him about making his own damn skateboards; it was one thing to hear it and a completely different thing to see it. On top of that, he honestly wouldn't have given a fuck what Kirishima's house looked like, even if he lived in a rundown little shack or whatever. He just wanted to spend the week with his boyfriend and forget about the rest of the world—the house was just a cool bonus—and that was exactly what he was gonna do. He already knew it was gonna be a damn good Spring Break.  

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this chapter is poop xD sorry

also, when this fic is finished, i'll be going through and reading every single comment and making sure i've seen them all because i'm pretty sure i've already missed some ^^