BakuJirou Oneshots

Stockings

The apartment was filled with an assortment of smells, all which wafted through the air and down the hall of the building and made her neighbors suddenly very hungry. Jirou was definitely not the master chef her boyfriend was--he teased her about that time she and Denki nearly burned down the dorm kitchen trying to make food at three in the morning--but she could handle a few things now that she’d gotten in some practice. She slid her stocking clad feet across the cool tile floors to reach a bowl of spices for the chicken she was making. It would surprise many people including her younger self to know that wearing the stockings with shorts and a black t-shirt with a skull on the front that was just big enough for her to feel comforted by was the outfit that made her feel the most at home. 

When Bakugou had first given her the stockings, Jirou had nearly laughed. She knew that he liked them on her, she had a pair of them all black and lace for more... private hours but these were different. These were white , a color she found herself wearing very little on her own except if it was a shirt of his. Not only were they white but they went up far past her knees and nearly to the edges of the shorts she wore because of her height. At the time she thanked him and continued to open the rest of the present which had been much more her speed--a vinyl record she’d been eyeing, new wireless noise cancelling headphones, all the things she’d wanted and more because where he wasn’t always the best at saying how he felt, Bakugou wanted her to know just how much she meant to him. He paid attention even to things she didn’t. 

By the time she finally put away all her gifts and found them again later in the week, Jirou looked closer at them. They had to have been custom ordered because there was the faintest design on them in light purple threads that made out a pattern she recognized all too well. Music notes. Instantly she knew them to be the song they had first ever played together in the UA band, a day that felt like ages ago and yet she could still hear the roar of the crowd calling their names. 

So she wore them. 

She wore them the night they moved in together. She wore them when she had a bad or stressful day. She wore them to be inspired by music again. She wore them when she wrote a song for his birthday. She wore them when she wanted to remember just how much he could still surprise her. 

Because that’s what Bakugou always did. When they were younger and Jirou first laid eyes on the aggressive, loud mouth in class she was certain they’d never be friends. When they started to be friends she was certain they’d never be more. When she was scared to be more, she was certain he’d leave. No matter what came, Bakugou surprised her. 

On days like today when she knew he’d come home late from hero work, Jirou wore them along with a t-shirt of his as she made spicy tuna sushi with rice and Nagoya fried chicken wings. Dancing across the kitchen while her favorite playlist of the week played, she felt blissfully happy. Life was hectic, life was crazy, life was beautiful. Tomorrow they were set to go see the rest of the “Bakusquad” for dinner and this weekend the two of them were going to a beach house where Jirou was excited to get away from the city for a while. Nothing could have made her feel any happier than she did right now.

That was nearly the same thought Bakugou had as he walked into their apartment, already smiling and shaking his head at how loud her music was playing and knowing they’d probably get a passive aggressive text from their next door neighbor if he didn’t turn it down a little for her. 

For someone whose house growing up always seemed to suffocate him, Bakugou didn’t believe that an apartment in the city could ever feel so free before she came along. At the end of the hall where he walked in and left his shoes and coat, he could see out to the horizon where the sky turned dark blue and purple, a color he’d begun to appreciate much more these last six years. Rounding the end of the hallway, Bakugou opened his mouth to alert her to his presence--probably scaring her if he did it right--but he stopped short. The smell the met him at the door seemed familiar but now he recognized it as one of the only things Jirou actually knew how to make without setting something on fire. But the smell wasn’t what got him.