Sparks

In Which Everyone is Bad at Feelings. Except Kirishima.

Denki bounced his foot, one leg crossed over the other, glancing at his watch every ten seconds. Three hours ago, Bakugo had texted him an address and said to meet him there at seven. The address turned out to be a tiny hole in the wall ramen shop that looked pretty run down, but was packed with customers. He'd gone in and told the waitress he was waiting for a friend and she'd shown him to an empty table. He'd been sitting there for almost half an hour, alone, and Bakugo hadn't responded to any of his texts. The waitress kept giving him glances, probably thinking he'd been stood up or was trying to scam for a free meal.

Denki tapped his fingers against the greasy veneer tabletop, about to give up and go home for the night. They were pro heros, things happened. Bakugo had probably gotten caught up in something and-

There he was, waltzing through the door like he owned the damn place. Denki watched him completely bypass the waitress, going straight to the counter to speak to the cook. The cook grinned big and waved the waitress over, who smiled and gestured in his direction. Bakugo glanced toward him-was that relief? -and said something else to the cook before making his way through the crowded restaurant. Denki made a point of looking at his watch. Bakugo shrugged. "Run of the mill train perv."

"Hm, imagine that. Two pervs on the same train at the same time."

Bakugo raised an eyebrow at him, obviously unimpressed by his very clever joke. Denki nodded toward the cook and the waitress. "So do you know them?"

Bakugo glanced in their direction. "I've been coming here for a long time. They're giving us their private room, c'mon."

He walked away from the table, heading toward the back of the restaurant. Denki hesitated, then followed Bakugo through a door that could almost pass as part of the wall. The private room was much nicer than the front house, it was small, but accomodated a raised tatami platform partitioned into two smaller rooms with shoji screens.

Denki froze as Bakugo closed the door behind them, muting the noise from the main part of the shop. His chest tightened. This was...this felt like- "Is this a date?"

Bakugo smirked, slipping off his shoes as he stepped onto the platform. "Do you want it to be a date?"

Denki shook his head. Bakugo shrugged. "Then it's not a date."

"Why the private room?"

Bakugo settled onto a cushion. "You really wanna talk about the finer points of kink out there?"

Denki rolled his eyes, slipping his shoes off to join Bakugo on the platform. "We could've talked at my apartment, or yours-"

Bakugo inhaled sharply, silencing him. "Having you at my apartment before we've put everything on the table would be a very bad idea."

"Why? Got a secret sex dungeon?"

Bakugo glared at him. Denki laughed."Oh my god, you do!"

"Think about what that would mean for you for a minute."

Denki stopped laughing, flushing bright red. "Oh god-"

The door creaked open and the waitress came in carrying a tray with two ceramic cups and a teapot, arranging them on the table with a smile before bobbing her head and leaving. Bakugo poured for them both. Denki bit the inside of his lip. "I told you I didn't want to date, Bakugo."

"It's not a date. We're having a frank and open discussion about kink."

Denki sighed. It certainly felt like a date. "What about it? We've already talked."

"We talked interests and limits in general. We need to work out the specifics."

Denki sipped his tea. "What specifics? I thought we matched up pretty well."