Work Text:
“Midoriyaaa,” Denki whines, flopping heavily onto a couch in the common room.
Sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa, Midoriya hums in question. “Are you okay, Kaminari-kun?”
“No.” Denki’s voice is a little muffled since his face is squished into the cushions. “I’m going to die. This is the end. Tell my sister I love her.”
Midoriya chuckles, used to Denki’s dramatics by now and (mostly) unconcerned. “What about your parents?”
“Tell them not to touch my books.” He frowns into the green fabric.
Denki supposes his mother is mostly excused since she bought a majority of the books, but if any of his family were to lay a hand on his translations of that pre-quirk series about Greek mythology, Denki would probably have to rise from the grave and zombie-pout until they put them back in place.
“Got it.” Denki hears papers rustling around before Midoriya speaks again, sounding closer this time. “And, may I ask why exactly you’re dying?”
Denki turns his head to see Midoriya leaning over the couch with a little half-smirk. He gets distracted while mentally trying to name all the shades in those huge green eyes before he groans out a reply. “Math.”
The half-smirk turns into a whole smirk. “Math,” Midoriya repeats. “Is this about Ectoplasm-sensei’s latest worksheet? The one that’s due next Friday? I finished it during class, but we could definitely compare answers if you think that might help you! I’ve just gotta find it. I know I put it somewhere in here...”
Within a few seconds, he’s scrambled over to his massive yellow backpack, and is now digging through it as his voice trails off into quiet muttering.
Denki blinks, a little flattered that Midoriya thinks he was even aware there was a worksheet due next Friday. “Dude,” he says. “I was talking about the one due in twelve hours.”
Midoriya freezes. He’s turned away, but Denki catches the tips of his ears turning pink. “Oh! R-Right! Well, I have that one too, if you need help with it!”
“Please,” Denki says emphatically. What did anyone ever do to deserve Midoriya Izuku?
He heaves himself off of the couch and plops down next to the aforementioned gift to humanity, who’s already spread out a bunch of notes on the scorched (thanks, Bakugou) coffee table.
They spend the next hour going over the worksheet, Midoriya’s quiet voice and bright highlighters managing to drill the concepts into Denki’s skull about a thousand times more effectively than Ectoplasm’s droning lectures.
Midoriya is... kind of a great teacher, honestly. The way his entire face lights up when Denki gets a question right, laughing and cheering and bumping fists with him even though there are a dozen problems left, sends a warm and fluttery feeling through Denki’s chest. Midoriya’s bright, encouraging smile when he gets a question wrong does that, too. Same with when his scarred hand brushes Denki’s every now and then, and he apologizes profusely, even though it’s really not necessary—Denki doesn’t mind a bit.
When he gets all four parts of a problem correct from start to finish, and Midoriya lets out an excited whoop, accidentally activating his quirk with how hard he fist pumps, Denki finds himself thinking that Midoriya is kind of really adorable.
Ah, fuck.
Okay, so maybe Midoriya isn’t a miracle worker and Denki is just a floundering bisexual. But after an hour, the worksheet is finished and Denki understands polynomials a little bit better, so maybe it doesn’t really matter.
He thanks Midoriya (a little excessively, perhaps) for all his help, and the other boy blushes intensely, reassuring him that it’s no problem at all, and he can always come to him if he needs help, Kaminari-kun! After all, even if we weren’t training to be heroes, classmates should still help each other out however they can, don’t you think?
“S-Speaking of which...” Midoriya continues, running his fingers over the scars on his right hand in a nervous habit. “I, ah, was having a bit of trouble with Present Mic-sensei’s latest assignment. The poetic analysis...?”
And Denki lights up, because he knows this assignment! In fact, he did it three days ago, and he’s pretty sure he did most of it right! Damn. Go, him.
He pulls up the assignment and explains his answers to Midoriya, who in turn brings up new perspectives on the archetype of summer, and spins the hamster wheel in his brain pretty effectively. At one point, Denki reads out a few lines of the poem, and Midoriya’s entire face goes pink.
“Are you okay, man?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
Midoriya seems to be attempting to retreat into his “flannel shirt” shirt like a freckled turtle. “Y-Yeah!” he squeaks. “I just d-didn’t realize you were so good at speaking English!”
For a moment, Denki thinks he might understand how Bakugou feels all the time, because that was some premium ego-stroking. He isn’t very great at school in general, but he’s always been decent at English, and it’s because of his hard work that Denki is getting closer to fluency in the language. So, he lets himself feel a little smug.
Later though, when Midoriya says he’s “very intelligent and brings up a lot of great perspectives, Kaminari-kun!” Denki wonders how Bakugou lives like this. How does he go about his days? Two entire compliments from some guy (who just so happens to be heroic and adorable and, like, really fucking ripped) and Denki feels like he might explode. Wait, maybe that’s why Bakugou explodes all the time! Besides his quirk, of course. Denki will have to bring up this new theory later.
But for now, a ridiculous amount of time has passed by, even more than usual. (And Denki loses track of time a lot. Like, he’s in a constant state of losing track of time. It’s definitely an issue. Oh, well.)
The common room has cleared out, and the room is dark other than the lamp on the side table and a faint light coming from the kitchen, where one switch is always flipped on in case somebody wants to come downstairs for water and isn’t a fan of walking directly into walls.
With a yawn that scrunches his nose up adorably, Midoriya says goodnight in this sweet, quiet voice, and heads up the stairs towards his room.
Denki grins back, then takes a moment to rest his forehead on the table, and screams internally.
He’s in deep, isn’t he?
It becomes a Thing. Not just a thing, but a Thing. At least, to Denki.
Almost every day, they meet up and help each other with homework. Or, at least, that’s why they do, but that doesn’t mean it always actually happens. They’ve moved their study sessions to take place in either of their dorm rooms, and it isn’t long before studying devolves into staring at the ceiling and talking.
They talk a lot, and about a lot of things. Hero society, the future, which of their teachers have gotten together (“Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic?” “Dude, it’s like an ‘opposites attract’ thing! Tell me they don’t own a cat together. Look me in the eyes and tell me they don’t.”), books, music, basically everything.
Midoriya has a habit of rambling, and Denki does too, but his takes place in the form of interrupting the other’s tangent about the merits of costume re-designs, as opposed to Midoriya’s disorganized yet insightful muttering.
Apparently, though, Midoriya doesn’t mind at all, because when this happens, he just nods like what Denki said makes total sense, and then reroutes his own stream of consciousness to take Denki’s opinion into consideration. It’s kind of really nice, honestly. From the outside, though, their conversations would probably give other people headaches.
(“Probably” becomes “definitely” when Bakugou almost explodes his face off because Denki had just thought of a joke to tell Midoriya and vaulted off of the couch to find him, nearly spilling Bakugou’s ice cream. But Midoriya laughed really hard when Denki told him, so win some, lose some, right?)
And every time Midoriya blushes at the amount of All Might merch in his room, or his green eyes sparkle when Denki reads an English poem, that fluttery feeling gets worse and worse, until Denki finds himself embarrassingly infatuated with the force of nature named Midoriya Izuku.
And then it happens, and Denki falls even farther (somehow), to the point where he might have to ask that skull kid from 1-B to help him escape because he’s basically underground from how deep he’s been buried in his own tragic bisexuality.
The it in question is not in fact a movie about clowns with shapeshifting quirks and red balloons, but a situation that occurs during one of their study sessions where the actual studying has long since been abandoned.
Midoriya is going off on some passionate rant after Denki brought up the subject of hero debuts, sitting cross-legged on the floor and using a limited edition All Might figurine to gesture as he talks. Denki is laying on Midoriya’s bed, legs up against the wall, and staring blankly at the popcorn ceiling.
They’re in an expensive-as-hell school, why are the ceilings popcorn ceilings? What purpose do popcorn ceilings even serve, besides being really spiky? At least, they look like they’d be spiky. Denki can’t jump high enough to check. Maybe he could ask Uraraka for help?
As Denki is contemplating the pros and cons of finding Uraraka right then and there to satisfy his curiosity when she is probably either A) with Tsuyu, or B) engaging Bakugou in an arm-wrestling match, he hears a familiar name amidst Midoriya’s chattering.
“...the recently debuted Lightning Heroine, Livewire. She debuted during our stay at I-Island! I wish I could have seen it, but apparently she was engaging the League of Villains among other heroes such as—”
“Did you say ‘Livewire?’” Denki interrupts, so suddenly that Midoriya actually visibly startles and makes a little noise not unlike a chew toy.
“Y-Yeah!” he answers, green curls bouncing as he nods emphatically. “She’s been climbing the rankings, even after such a recent debut! Y’know, her quirk is pretty similar to yours, Kaminari-kun...”
“Right,” Denki nods, “‘cause she’s my sister.”
If he thought Midoriya had been shocked before, it’s nothing compared to the way he freezes at that sentence, jaw almost hitting the floor. “What?!”
“Yeah, electric-type quirks tend to be more genetic than anything,” Denki elaborates. “I wonder how my ane would feel knowing one of my classmates is a fan of hers!”
Kira would probably zap herself with excitement, then demand to speak to Midoriya, who would probably actually pass out upon speaking to an actual Pro Hero (even though all of their teachers are actual Pro Heroes). But before Denki’s train of thought can arrive at this particularly amusing station, he sees a flash of green lightning out of the corner of his eye, and then Midoriya is really really close to him, hello.
He’s leaning over Denki (still sprawled on the bed) with wide eyes, expression absolutely awed. Denki’s hamster-wheel-brain has about two seconds to compute both their position and the familiar glimmer of excitement in Midoriya’s eyes before withstanding a rapid barrage of questions like, “What’s it like to have a Pro Hero as a family member?” and “Is your sister the reason you decided to go into heroics?” and “Can you tell me about the specifics of her quirk?”
Denki can barely stammer out a “Pretty cool,” “Yeah,” and “I don’t even remember what it’s called,” because the hamster living in his brain has decided that right now is a perfectly good time to train for some kind of upcoming hamster marathon, and that means that Denki is rapidly processing just how close Midoriya is and how sparkly his eyes are and how soft his lips look and Jesus Christ, how many freckles does he even have?
He blinks, and then Midoriya blinks, and then Midoriya’s entire face turns bright red, and then there’s another flicker of green lightning as Midoriya scrambles to the opposite side of the room.
“Ahaha!” The sound that leaves his mouth is less of a nervous laugh than it is a cry for help. “S-Sorry about that, Kaminari-kun, I d-d-didn’t mean to, um, invade your p-personal space like that!”
The traitorous hamster in Denki’s head is attempting to shove something stupid out of his mouth, like “Will you do it again if I ask nicely,” or “Hey, do you maybe wanna look at me like that forever,” but through his valiant efforts, Denki manages to say something slightly less embarrassing.
“Oh, it’s fine!” he exclaims with a smile. And yes, that’s a good start, but then, “You can invade my personal space whenever you want!”
“Slightly less embarrassing” is still embarrassing, and Denki laments the situation into which God and a vengeful hamster have placed him. He considers doing something about the rodent that seems to have replaced his impulse control, but he thinks that asking Recovery Girl for some “brain hamster repellent” might lead to some awkward questions.
Midoriya gives him a confused and flustered and anxious smile, peeking out from behind his hands, and Denki resists the urge to do a Heart Clutch™.
“God,” he whines in English, “you’re so unbearably adorable, what the fuck.”
Denki flops onto his back before continuing in Japanese, reassuring Midoriya that he himself knows fuck-all about personal space anyways.
(And from that position, he misses the way Midoriya’s face catches fire like his name is Todoroki Shouto and his future best friend is shattering his fingers in front of him during the Sports Festival.)
Oh, yeah. Another Thing (that starts a thing, but becomes a Thing) is Denki’s complete lack of brain-to-mouth filter around Midoriya, which leads to him spouting out a large majority of his thoughts, which is a Bad Thing, since a lot of those thoughts are about Midoriya.
But the authoritative rodent in his mind at least allows him to choose what language his cataclysmic bisexuality is spouted in. So, the Thing is that Denki will sometimes give Midoriya a frankly embarrassing compliment, but at least Midoriya probably doesn’t understand what he’s saying.
Probably. Denki’s, like, ninety-six percent sure.
Alas, he forgets to account for two important things in his calculation: 1) that Fate is a cruel mistress, and 2) that Denki is often wrong.
Such is proven to him when he wanders into the common room, a dreamy smile on his face, absolutely unaware of the impending bombshell waiting to be dropped upon his unsuspecting head.
He greets his friend. His best bro, his homie, his amigo, his ichiban no shin-yuu, by the name of Sero Hanta. Ah, Sero. Sero would never betray him.
The same cannot be said of his boyfriend, however. Mr. “personality-of-a-flaming-piece-of-shit-steeped-in-sewage” would gladly betray him. In fact, Denki is pretty sure backstabbing is one of Bakugou’s hobbies, along with picking a fight with anything that moves and watching baking shows.
How a boy as sweet as Sero would willingly put up with such a flaming trash gremlin is beyond him. But, to be fair, most things are beyond him.
Denki follows Sero towards the couches, recounting the last time he and Midoriya had hung out—by now, both of them have given up on even trying to pretend that any studying actually happens anymore—as Sero flops onto the nearest seat, which happens to be Bakugou’s lap.
He’s telling them about how he and Midoriya were supposed to study for Present Mic’s next quiz when Bakugou (who not only has refrained from detonating Sero’s head, but isn’t even Death Glaring at him—the things Sero gets away with, honestly) lets out this scoff. It might even count as a Scoff, but Denki is still on the fence about it.
This isn’t his average disdainful scoff, either. Something about it is amused, gleefully malicious.
So Denki asks, “What?”
And then Bakugou gives him this Look, one that stirs a sense of impending doom low in Denki’s chest.
“You were helping Deku study for English?” he asks, almost incredulously.
“Uh, yeah?” Denki nods.
Then the bomb is dropped, and who better to drop it than the boy whose hands are basically sticks of dynamite?
“Shitty nerd’s been fluent since halfway through middle school.”
It takes a few seconds, but sure enough—Denki’s soul leaves his body.
As it packs its things and grabs its hat and shuts the door to its soul-apartment on the way out, Denki’s soul leaves behind the mental image of a hamster cackling as it rubs its paws (claws? Paws. Hamster hands) together in pure sadistic glee.
“So,” Denki begins, swiveling around on Midoriya’s desk chair.
Midoriya tilts his head curiously. “So?”
“Bakugou said something super interesting yesterday.”
“‘Interesting’ like a really graphic threat? Because some of those are really... something. Kacchan’s always been creative when it comes to threatening the well-being of—”
Denki interrupts, because he’s courteous and polite like that. “He told me you’ve been fluent in English since middle school, and that means that not only did you hear all my word vomit, but you understood it too, so Midoriya, if I ask nicely, will you punt me into the sun so I can properly disintegrate from embarrassment like the bisexual disaster I have become?”
Midoriya blinks, processing the catastrophic monologue that Denki just spewed out, then blushes until his skin tone could give their resident Alien Queen a run for her money. He waves his arms around in some kind of astonishingly flustered gesture, slowly sinking to the floor out of sheer mortification.
It takes a moment before he speaks. “O-Okay, so. First of all, no, Kaminari-kun, I will not punt you into the sun, n-no matter how nicely you ask.” He tries to give Denki a stern look, but the effect is a little ruined when he meets Denki’s eyes and his skin tone is no longer the same color as Mina’s hair, but begins to steadily approach Kirishima’s.
Denki tries his luck. “Please?”
“N-No!”
“Dammit.”
“Um, but...” he continues, blush darkening to the point that Denki wonders both if he’ll pass out, and whether he’s even physically capable of carrying Midoriya to the infirmary. “I think I might have a different suggestion? To, um. Lessen your e-embarrassment.”
Denki sighs heavily, leaning his head back to stare at that damn popcorn ceiling. He really should text Uraraka after his imminent death-by-cute-boy is over. “Lay it on me.”
“W-Well, there’s always dinner?” Midoriya suggests, face red, hands fidgeting, voice high-pitched like he’s forcing the words out.
Denki’s head snaps up so fast he almost gets whiplash. “Huh?”
Let it never be said that Kaminari Denki does not have a way with words.
“Y’know,” Midoriya mumbles, starting to do that turtle thing with his All Might hoodie, “dinner? Food? Th-The two of us, eating a meal? Maybe at, ah, eight o’clock on Saturday?”
“You mean like a date?!” Denki almost screeches.
Midoriya nods.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Is that guy with the really nice abs from the provisional license exam nearby? Because Denki’s world is being rocked.
“You mean,” Denki repeats, standing up from his chair and making his way towards the ball of nerves on the carpet that is Midoriya, because he simply has to clarify, “like, me and you. On a date.”
“That’s where I was t-trying to go with it, yeah.” Midoriya’s voice is faint.
“Holy shit.” He says it out loud this time.
Denki approaches Midoriya carefully, as if trying not to spook a wild animal, then takes his wrists and removes his arms from where they’re caging his blushing face.
“Okay so, yes,” he announces once he can see Midoriya’s eyes. “Definitely yes, I would like to go to dinner with you. That sounds fucking awesome, oh my God. I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more than I do right at this particular moment. Okay, except maybe a couple years ago, when I really wanted an electric guitar, but this is definitely better.”
Oh no, he’s rambling. Oh, God. Oh, fuck.
“Yes,” Denki repeats, in English for good measure.
Midoriya gives him a shaky smile, and Denki kind of wants to kiss it, so he does.
(The all-powerful hamster pumps its hamster fist in victory because Midoriya’s lips are somehow softer than they look.)
When Denki pulls away, Midoriya has surpassed Kirishima’s-hair levels of redness, moving onto a shade that Denki isn’t even sure is on the color spectrum. But he’s smiling, so Denki takes it as a win.
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he notes. Then he adds, “Please don’t.”
Midoriya lets out some kind of happy-noise, breathless and strangled, as he blinks up at Denki with wide green eyes.
“No promises.”