💦 Freaky Dancer 💦

C2

Ashido had actually been the most upset when Kirishima had accidentally spilled the beans about their surprise party to Kaminari, but had recovered surprisingly quick, and since then hadn't told the others a single word about her plans for the evening. Despite himself, Katsuki actually found himself getting curious about what the pinkette had planned. Momentarily leaving his comfortable spot in the armchair to pluck the joint out of Sero's fingers to take a hit himself, he chanced another curious glance at Ashido, who had gotten her phone out again, presumably checking the time again. As Katsuki plopped back into his seat, propping his feet up on the table ("Hey Baku-bro our food is on that table! Get your stinky feet off!" "Shut up, shitty hair!") he wondered if whatever Ashido had planned wasn't going as she suspected, because she seemed to be getting more restless by the minute. Whatever it was, Katsuki hoped they would soon get to tear into the booze the scheming pinkette had stacked away in Kirishima's bedroom secretly. He could really go for something harder than the shitty beer that they had here in the living room.

He just wanted to unwind after a stressful week at work and for one evening forget his worries and let himself feel like a stupid teenager again. It really had been ages since they got to hang out like this, smoking, drinking and bickering like they were still in high school. Nowadays, whenever they met up, the conversation always seemed to orbit around work. And if it wasn't work, it was stupid lovesick idiots gushing about their significant others. Katsuki frowned at the thought. He didn't want to seem bitter, but he just couldn't help but feel out of his depth at these kinds of conversations. He felt like he was the only one who hadn't grown one bit since graduating. Sure, he had a stable job (as dangerous as it was), but he didn't manage to make a single new friend outside of his old high school squad. No relationships either, just hookups. No ambitions for promotions, no plans to have kids or buy a house. He had nothing to contribute to these talks at this point in his life, and it shouldn't upset him the way it did, because he was happy with his life, damn it. He just didn't like feeling left out.

Katsuki was luckily ripped out of his quickly deteriorating spiral of thoughts by a loud knock on the door. Who the hell could it be, at this kind of hour? And who the hell would knock , of all things? All of Kirishima's friends knew that the doorbell to the redhead's apartment had been broken for weeks (and Kirishima's shitty landlord had apparently no intentions of having it fixed any time soon), so they usually called his cell when they were at the door and wanted to be let in. So it had to be a stranger. Belatedly, Katsuki realized that throughout the course of the evening, their chatter had gotten increasingly loud, and in the midst of it, one of them must have cranked up the volume of the music to go along with it. A bad premonition started taking hold in Katsuki's gut, and he had half the mind to quickly snub out the blunt and throw it into one of the several scattered plastic cups.

While Katsuki had his internal panic attack, an unsuspecting Kirishima had gotten up from the couch and ambled over to the door, a dumb drunken grin plastered on his face.

"Did any of you guys order pizza? Cause I could really go for some right....now.."

The redhead's laughter died on his lips as he opened the door in a wide motion to reveal a short, uniformed stranger. He wasn't wearing a Domino's uniform, though.

"Good evening, gentlemen" said the police officer, pushing up the police hat he wore on his head of wild, green curls to reveal a young looking, freckled face. The officer's expression was serious, but not unkind. Still, the air in the room turned possibly frigid as the law enforcement worker entered the apartment, carefully stepping around a shell-shocked Kirishima. Sero quickly clambered over the couch to shut off the blaring music that still had been playing, and the silence that was left in its wake was turning the mood even heavier.

Suddenly finding himself with five pairs of eyes staring intently into him, the police officer seemed to get slightly flustered, a soft flush appearing on his freckled cheeks, as he averted his eyes and coughed awkwardly.