MHA Holdiay series

The air thrummed with a familiar, electric energy – the kind only a Homecoming night at University could conjure. Denki Kaminari, hair a brighter yellow than even his usual self, bounced on the balls of his feet, a human lightning rod attracting and radiating joy. He'd spent the last few hours a whirlwind of awkward dips, missed steps, and genuine laughter on the makeshift dance floor. Now, nursing a lukewarm beer, he finally collapsed onto a nearby bench, a happy sigh escaping his lips.

A shadow fell across him, and he looked up to see spiky ash-blonde hair and the perpetually simmering glare of Katsuki Bakugo. Of course. He'd known Bakugo would show, even if it was just to grumble about the "extra" and the "idiots."

"Finally decided to stop embarrassing yourself, Sparky?" Bakugo sneered, but the edge of his voice lacked its usual venom.

"Hey, I was having fun!" Denki protested, nudging him playfully. "Besides, someone had to keep the party alive."

Bakugo scoffed, but settled onto the bench beside him. They fell into an easy silence, punctuated by the music and the shouts of their classmates. It was comfortable, this familiar rhythm they'd established years ago, fighting side-by-side in hero training.

They talked about their courses, the ridiculousness of some of the professors, the crushing weight of impending graduation and the uncertainty of their future careers. Denki loved these moments, when Bakugo dropped his guard, even if just a little. He saw glimpses of the sharp, intelligent, and surprisingly loyal friend beneath the explosive facade.

Then, something shifted. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the warm glow of the string lights overhead, or maybe it was just the way Bakugo's jaw tightened when he talked about a particularly frustrating assignment. Whatever it was, Denki found himself noticing things he hadn't before. The way the firelight danced in Bakugo's crimson eyes, the subtle curve of his lips when he smirked, the lean strength evident even beneath his dark t-shirt. Suddenly, Bakugo wasn't just Bakugo, his friend, his rival, his constant. He was… attractive.

A wave of heat flushed through Denki's face. He averted his gaze, fiddling nervously with the label of his beer bottle.

Bakugo noticed. Of course, he did. "What's with the blush, Pikachu? Finally realized I'm the better-looking one?"

Denki groaned. "Oh, shut up, Bakugo."

"Nope," Bakugo said, popping the 'p'. "Gonna keep teasing you until you explode. What, you got a crush on Round Face or something?"

He was relentless. For the next few hours, Bakugo poked and prodded, twisting the knife of Denki's newfound awareness. The teasing was playful, even affectionate in its own strange way, but Denki was reaching his limit. He was tired of being the butt of the joke, the one who always cracked.

Finally, fueled by frustration and a surprising surge of courage, Denki snapped. He grabbed Bakugo by the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him.

It was messy, impulsive, and undeniably stupid. Denki pulled back almost immediately, mortified. He braced himself for the explosion.

Instead, Bakugo just smirked. That infuriating, knowing smirk that always made Denki want to punch him.

"Well, that was… unexpected," he drawled, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Then, he leaned in and kissed Denki back.

This kiss was different. Slower, more deliberate. It was a test, a challenge, a blatant declaration of dominance. Bakugo's hand came up to cup the back of Denki's neck, holding him in place. The taste of beer and something else, something uniquely Bakugo, filled Denki's senses.

When they broke apart, Denki was breathless, reeling. He stared at Bakugo, searching for answers in his crimson eyes.

Bakugo simply shrugged, his smirk widening. "So, Sparky," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Was that just to shut me up, or is there something else you want to tell me?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Was this a genuine connection, a blossoming romance born from years of friendship and rivalry? Or was it just a game, a power play between two competitive souls?

Denki didn't know. He only knew that the air around them crackled with a different kind of electricity now, and he was undeniably, terrifyingly, hooked.

He swallowed hard and met Bakugo's gaze. "I… I don't know," he confessed, the vulnerability raw in his voice.

Bakugo's expression softened, just barely. "We'll figure it out," he said, his voice rough. Then, he stood up, offering Denki his hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Denki hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. As they walked away from the noise and the lights, into the cool night air, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Was this the beginning of a beautiful, messy love story, or a battle of wills that would leave them both scorched? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain: things would never be the same again.