[interesting. it's not the word he would have used to describe the feeling. awkward is more like it... and yet, bakugou can't find it in himself to hate the feeling. this is the young man who dodges and yells at his classmates' attempts to smack christmas sweaters or hats on his head during the holiday, who even arches and ducks out of his own mother and father's attempts to hug him as he headed off to the new dorms before a national war. and yet, denji's embracing him and bakugou... he's certainly not pushing him off. obviously, since he was the one who accepted the invitation and implemented the embrace.
he'll be thinking about this later. the feeling of denji's body against his own. strong muscle on his chest, the pleasant v of a well-formed torso beneath his arm, solid shoulders and warmth radiating from the half-devil's core he hasn't felt anywhere else. the truly oddest part is when denji simply drops his head against bakugou's own. there's a different between just putting your arms around someone... and resting your damn head against theirs. yet the half-devil's doing just that. sandy blonde hair nuzzling into spiky ashen blonde, ears brushing together as more than just chest and arms touch in this little connected moment. it's not shoulders brushing side by side on the couch, or occasionally kicking at each other's feet to be brats. this is a quiet, warm, momentary entrapment of an embrace, with one of denji's arms around his shoulders, the other curled at the diamond of his back. strong, solid, firm, warm, pressed together, two young men in a strange world taking comfort in each other. and perhaps a bit more.
nostalgic? the briefest of gossamer glimmers in such a shade floats through. as if he's felt this before. denji's embrace. his arms, his head, his breath, his heartbeat against his own. it should be weird or even disturbing, and yet it's only comforting. bakugou's arms settle in a position that he feels is best, curled round denji's shoulder blades and hip. weird as fuck, yet pleasant. as if the embrace was an invitation to take a snooze right here in these strong arms. a gentle breath, a nigh-silent sigh, and then denji's finally relaxing his arms as bakugou lowers his own. his face... might be a bit pink, but damn if he's ever going to acknowledge that! hands fall away, drift down his back, and slide right over his waist in a manner bakugou's suddenly not sure if intentional or accidental. his shoulders tense, eyes widening, the idea to knee denji in the nuts flickering in his mind. but none of that goes anywhere as he finds himself accepting even that touch. wasn't like he hadn't been paying attention to the definitions beneath denji's shirt. even where that ripcord dangled between his pecs.
maybe a good thing they step back and bakugou can find something very interesting with the wall clock to glare at. time, right, look at the time and not at denji for a few seconds. before finally looking back at him, at that cloud-soft half-smile, all relaxed and essentially blank-slate except for a good feeling. fucking doe-eyed sap. bakugou gives him a flat look. good thing he's used to denji being a little weird from time to time? and he's not... complaining about it.]
Tch. It better stay that way, Denji. Until I top it myself. [right, because being in contest with yourself is a thing to do on dates. bakugou is only minorly miffed at denji using his given name, but feels the other boy earned it. with one last look, he decides that's enough and heads past the half-devil, going to the stairs to make for his room. there's a lot to think about and he'd rather do that alone before going to sleep. the second date will be in his mind throughout the week; that's for sure.]
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he'll be thinking about this later. the feeling of denji's body against his own. strong muscle on his chest, the pleasant v of a well-formed torso beneath his arm, solid shoulders and warmth radiating from the half-devil's core he hasn't felt anywhere else. the truly oddest part is when denji simply drops his head against bakugou's own. there's a different between just putting your arms around someone... and resting your damn head against theirs. yet the half-devil's doing just that. sandy blonde hair nuzzling into spiky ashen blonde, ears brushing together as more than just chest and arms touch in this little connected moment. it's not shoulders brushing side by side on the couch, or occasionally kicking at each other's feet to be brats. this is a quiet, warm, momentary entrapment of an embrace, with one of denji's arms around his shoulders, the other curled at the diamond of his back. strong, solid, firm, warm, pressed together, two young men in a strange world taking comfort in each other. and perhaps a bit more.
nostalgic? the briefest of gossamer glimmers in such a shade floats through. as if he's felt this before. denji's embrace. his arms, his head, his breath, his heartbeat against his own. it should be weird or even disturbing, and yet it's only comforting. bakugou's arms settle in a position that he feels is best, curled round denji's shoulder blades and hip. weird as fuck, yet pleasant. as if the embrace was an invitation to take a snooze right here in these strong arms. a gentle breath, a nigh-silent sigh, and then denji's finally relaxing his arms as bakugou lowers his own. his face... might be a bit pink, but damn if he's ever going to acknowledge that! hands fall away, drift down his back, and slide right over his waist in a manner bakugou's suddenly not sure if intentional or accidental. his shoulders tense, eyes widening, the idea to knee denji in the nuts flickering in his mind. but none of that goes anywhere as he finds himself accepting even that touch. wasn't like he hadn't been paying attention to the definitions beneath denji's shirt. even where that ripcord dangled between his pecs.
maybe a good thing they step back and bakugou can find something very interesting with the wall clock to glare at. time, right, look at the time and not at denji for a few seconds. before finally looking back at him, at that cloud-soft half-smile, all relaxed and essentially blank-slate except for a good feeling. fucking doe-eyed sap. bakugou gives him a flat look. good thing he's used to denji being a little weird from time to time? and he's not... complaining about it.]
Tch. It better stay that way, Denji. Until I top it myself. [right, because being in contest with yourself is a thing to do on dates. bakugou is only minorly miffed at denji using his given name, but feels the other boy earned it. with one last look, he decides that's enough and heads past the half-devil, going to the stairs to make for his room. there's a lot to think about and he'd rather do that alone before going to sleep. the second date will be in his mind throughout the week; that's for sure.]