Yeah, I do ... only if you're okay with it. [ jeez, not being able to read bakugou's tone was lowkey stressful, made denji swallow the other confession that he wanted to spit out because he's unsure if he's pushing it right now. well, he most likely is. that was a lot of bombarding for one night and while his loving boyfriend is being tolerant, it didn't mean he should keep running his mouth. he kinda wanted to do it straight after the mission — for reasons, but even someone as bold as him felt a bit too shy to expose how filthy he could be. there's something super attractive about bakugou being covered in dirt, blood, and sweat; full of adrenaline, and feral after so many kills. taking a shower after all of this glory does tame it all, and denji is not sure if it's the herosuit itself or bakugou's untamed aura when he puts it on that brings this mini kink to life. hmm, he will have to think about it later. ]
... or we can take my advice and rent a hotel room. Let the others figure it out while we sleep in a warm space. [ an idea he cleverly suggested during that stupid heatwave, but they both agreed to proceed with other methods. this time, instead of setting the base on fire, he'd book a room for them for a night or two until the issue was resolved. a few minutes later, through the driver’s side, the worker approached the service opening. with a grunt, denji had to lower the window again, and he prepared himself for another slap of cold wave; the smell of food hit first, a sharp contrast to the air inside the vehicle. a paper bag appeared in the window, its edges crinkling as it was handed over with a casual greeting from the employee. soon after, a drink followed— the cup slick with condensation, leaving faint droplets as it was settled onto the tray beside the driver. denji thanked the lady, and she wished them both a good night before they finally drove off. since dinner was secured, the mission was a success, and they had no reason to be outside anymore - the next destination was the base. he actually considered asking if they could have a quick meal in the car, but he knew the burger was loaded and heavy with sauce. if he makes a mess, even a single drop, bakugou will never forgive him. so, nope. they will eat in his room.
by now the snow came down in thick, relentless waves, the headlights cutting short tunnels of visibility through the drive back. the windshield wipers worked tirelessly, a rhythmic squeak and thud accompanying the low growl of the engine. it wouldn't be a long drive, but denji couldn't speed through it either. inside the car, breath fogged against the glass despite the heater working at full blast. he gripped the steering wheel, the hand holding bakugou's flexing occasionally to fight off the numbness before squeezing a bit. finally, they made it. the muffled howl of the wind filled the void outside, and denji had only one fucking concern -
his dinner. only his dinner. bakugou's salad will be fine. huff.
will it freeze during the brief walk from the car to the entrance? who knows. (there is a microwave in the kitchen, but that somehow will ruin the authentic taste of the meat. don't ask why.) with a sigh, his shoulders dropped as he switched off the engine, lights off. finally he released the other's hand so he could grab the bag and his drink. ] Let's make a run for it.
no subject
... or we can take my advice and rent a hotel room. Let the others figure it out while we sleep in a warm space. [ an idea he cleverly suggested during that stupid heatwave, but they both agreed to proceed with other methods. this time, instead of setting the base on fire, he'd book a room for them for a night or two until the issue was resolved. a few minutes later, through the driver’s side, the worker approached the service opening. with a grunt, denji had to lower the window again, and he prepared himself for another slap of cold wave; the smell of food hit first, a sharp contrast to the air inside the vehicle. a paper bag appeared in the window, its edges crinkling as it was handed over with a casual greeting from the employee. soon after, a drink followed— the cup slick with condensation, leaving faint droplets as it was settled onto the tray beside the driver. denji thanked the lady, and she wished them both a good night before they finally drove off. since dinner was secured, the mission was a success, and they had no reason to be outside anymore - the next destination was the base. he actually considered asking if they could have a quick meal in the car, but he knew the burger was loaded and heavy with sauce. if he makes a mess, even a single drop, bakugou will never forgive him. so, nope. they will eat in his room.
by now the snow came down in thick, relentless waves, the headlights cutting short tunnels of visibility through the drive back. the windshield wipers worked tirelessly, a rhythmic squeak and thud accompanying the low growl of the engine. it wouldn't be a long drive, but denji couldn't speed through it either. inside the car, breath fogged against the glass despite the heater working at full blast. he gripped the steering wheel, the hand holding bakugou's flexing occasionally to fight off the numbness before squeezing a bit. finally, they made it. the muffled howl of the wind filled the void outside, and denji had only one fucking concern -
his dinner. only his dinner. bakugou's salad will be fine. huff.
will it freeze during the brief walk from the car to the entrance? who knows. (there is a microwave in the kitchen, but that somehow will ruin the authentic taste of the meat. don't ask why.) with a sigh, his shoulders dropped as he switched off the engine, lights off. finally he released the other's hand so he could grab the bag and his drink. ] Let's make a run for it.