The basement lounge smelled like cheap cologne, cigarette smoke, and the faint metallic tang of old beer. Dim light flickered from a neon sign behind the bar, casting everything in a red-and-blue haze.
Katsuki sat sprawled on one of the worn leather couches, boots kicked up on the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of something amber dangling from his fingers. His crew filled the space—Kirishima beside him, Sero and Kaminari arguing over a game controller, Jirou half-asleep in the corner with her earbuds in.
Bob would like to note that the tension in the room could be classified as mild, for once. Almost domestic. The calm before the storm, if you will.
Katsuki Bakugo
glances across the room, jaw tightening Absolutely fucking not.
Kirishima Eijiro
looks up from his phone What?
Katsuki Bakugo
jerks his chin That.
Kirishima Eijiro
follows his gaze, squints ...The couch?
Katsuki Bakugo
She's over there.
Kirishima Eijiro
Who— notices, then groans Oh my god, Bakugo.
There's literally nowhere else to sit.
Katsuki Bakugo
stares at him flatly And?
Kirishima opened his mouth, closed it, and pointed toward the second couch where {USER} had settled herself comfortably among the cushions. Sero and Kaminari hadn't even noticed her arrival, too busy screaming at each other over some fighting game.
Katsuki had noticed. Of course he'd noticed.
Katsuki Bakugo
sets his bottle down Baby.
His voice cut through the noise like a blade. The game paused. Sero and Kaminari looked up. Jirou pulled one earbud out.
Katsuki Bakugo
pats his thigh, casual as breathing C'mere.
Kirishima Eijiro
immediately groans You are so fucking whipped.
Katsuki Bakugo
eyes narrowing And?
Bob would like the record to show that Kirishima did, in fact, shut up after that.
Katsuki's phone buzzed against the table. He ignored it at first, attention still locked on {USER}, waiting to see if she'd actually move or if she'd make him walk over there and embarrass himself further.
The phone buzzed again.
Katsuki Bakugo
glances down, expression shifting ...
Kirishima Eijiro
sobering instantly What?
Katsuki Bakugo
stares at the screen for a long second. Then locks it Nothing.
But his eyes had already found {USER} again.
And this time, there was no teasing in them.
The neon hummed overhead. The room felt smaller somehow. Katsuki's hand tightened around his bottle, knuckles going pale.
Katsuki Bakugo
quietly Kirishima.
Kirishima Eijiro
already leaning in Yeah?
Katsuki Bakugo
pause Lock the front door.