“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” Kirishima mumbles, walking in circles with his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Oh god, he’s going to kill us. And then Bakubro will feel really bad about it and kill himself. I don’t want Bakubro to die!” Kirishima wails, dropping onto his knees and crying into his hands.
Kaminari bops him on the head. “Get a grip, man. Bakugou isn’t going to die. You think he’d care if he killed us?”
“You guys don’t know him as well as I do,” Kirishima argues, upset by Kaminari’s poor faith in their friend’s love for them.
“Yeah?” Ashido says, hopping forward. She has been full of energy all day, getting progressively more hyper as the time draws closer to when Bakugou returns from work.
“You think you know everything about our Blasty?”
“He did know today is Bakugou’s birthday. That’s more than any of us can say,” Sero points out.
“Fair. Okay then, Kiri, do you think Blasty is going to like his birthday present?”
Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero wait with moderate patience for Kirishima’s prophecy. When it concerns Bakugou, Kirishima is like the Oracle of Delphi. Whatever he says will happen usually happens.
“He’s going to kill us.”
“Woo! This is going to be great!” Ashido cheers. “Sero, make sure your camcorder is charged and ready to go. We have to immortalize Blasty’s reaction.”
Bakugou jumps a foot in the air when he enters the apartment and the four of them shout “SURPRISE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAKUBRO/BLASTY/ASSHOLE/BAKUGOU!”
Bakugou lowers the hand clutched over his frantically beating heart. “Why are you fuckers here?”
Kirishima smiles; it is clear (to him only, probably) that his best friend is happy that they are here to celebrate his birthday with him.
“Dude, you jumped so high! Like a startled bunny.” Kaminari doubles over in laughter, clutching his knees.
“You got that, right?” Ashido asks, looking at Sero who nods his head, grinning wide as he turns the camcorder on her.
Ashido skips over to Bakugou who is still standing in the doorway to his and Kirishima’s apartment. “Come on, birthday boy. We have big plans for tonight.”
Her smile is too wide. Anyone would be suspicious of it, but Bakugou must think all her smiles are equally unnerving, because he lets her lead him into the living room and sit him down on the couch.
Now they just have to keep Bakugou distracted until—
Kaminari’s phone rings. When he sees the number on the screen, he answers the call immediately.
“Hello?… Oh, great! I’ll be right down to let you in.”
Kaminari wiggles his eyebrows to emphasize that that was indeed the phone call they were waiting for. He rushes out of the apartment, forgetting to shut the door on his way out. Kirishima closes it for him, while Ashido and Sero block Bakugou from getting up to investigate what shady shit is going down.
“He’s getting your birthday present, relax.”
“Ooh, I can’t wait!” Ashido jumps on the couch, landing next to Bakugou. “This is a present from all of us, Blasty, so you better appreciate it. I still can’t believe we’ve been friends since freshman year of college and you never told us when your birthday is until now.”
“I didn't fucking tell you my—”
“And it’s such an important birthday too! You turn twenty today!” Ashido continues.
The sound of Kaminari’s familiar footsteps followed by a slower, heavier gait are heard ascending the stairwell.
“Before Kaminari returns, I’d just like to say that I tried to stop them, Bakubro, I really did,” Kirishima says, eyes darting fearfully between the door when a heavy hand knocks against it and Bakugou’s face.
The way Kirishima takes cover behind the couch at another knock on the door has Bakugou’s face crumpling like a piece of paper, once smooth but now with lines appearing on his forehead where his eyebrows push together in a frown.
“It’s for you,” Sero says, pointing his finger at the door with one hand, his other holding the camcorder steady.
Bakugou scowls and stomps to the entryway, looking back at his friends as he hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. Kirishima’s eyes peek over the back of the couch. Ashido bounces around like the energizer bunny, waiting impatiently for Bakugou to open the door. Sero is grinning - rarely a good sign - and keeping the camcorder aimed on him.
Bakugou sighs. The feeling of gratitude he felt when he came home and found his friends waiting to celebrate his birthday with him is long gone. Did it ever exist? It was too fleeting a feeling to know for sure.
Bravely opening the door, Bakugou is greeted with a young man, probably a college student like himself, dressed as a fireman.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The man doesn’t answer, putting a hand against Bakugou’s chest and using it to push him backwards so he can enter the apartment. Kaminari beams over the fireman’s shoulder, following them into the apartment and remembering to close the door behind him this time.
The fireman steps close — too close — to Bakugou. Bakugou sees Sero’s camcorder in his peripheral vision. He won’t give these fuckers he once called friends the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, so he lets the fireman guide him to the couch to sit and wait for things to make sense.
Bakugou stares up at the man, taking in his strange bi-colored hairstyle and the burn scar on half his face. Maybe he really is a fireman?
“I think it’s too hot in here,” the man says, ripping his firemans suit off to reveal a red sequined vest and black booty shorts that cling to him like a second skin.
Alright then. Definitely not a real fireman.
The phony fireman pulls an ipod out of his vest pocket, presses a button, and then in a continuation of being the cliché the man has established himself to be with the fireman costume, “Pour Some Sugar On Me” blasts from his shitty speakers.
Bakugou sits still, unamused as the man “dances” stiffly above him. The stripper’s face is as emotionless as a slab of ice, but Bakugou could look past that since the guy is mostly paid for his body. Unfortunately, the stripper does not know how to move his body. His arms remain at his sides while he does squats over Bakugou’s knees. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so pitiful; Bakugou can tell the guy is actually trying. That whole thing about “I tried and therefore you can’t judge me”? Yeah, Bakugou is definitely judging this guy.
Bakugou wonders if his friends can get a refund so he can put the money to better use. His motorcycle needs an oil change. Or he can splurge on groceries for the week. Or, they can spend the refunded money on a stripper who actually knows how to give a lap dance.
When the fireman stands up and wiggles like a kid needing to use the bathroom, Bakugou decides enough is enough.
“Someone turn this shit off already,” he growls.
“Aw, Blasty, come on,” Ashido pouts.
The stripper turns off his music. Bakugou stands up and pushes the stripper down into his recently vacated spot on the couch, reversing their positions.
“All of you dipshits, move it.”
Kirishima, Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero move slowly towards the couch, uncertain what the blond is thinking but unwilling to argue when he uses that commanding tone.
“Not you, Plain Face,” Bakugou barks. “Your job is to record this night so no one forgets, right? Go stand over there.”
Sero moves diagonal to the couch where Bakugou directed him. From here he can move back and forth from a spectator’s view and Bakugou’s view. The other three sit next to the stripper and look at Bakugou like they’re awaiting a mother’s scolding.
Which is not what they get.
Bakugou runs his hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back, and levels his friends plus a stripper with an unbearably sexy lip-bite and heavy-lidded eyes. “You guys wanted to see a fuckin’ lap dance, right?”
“What,” Kaminari says, eyes wide.
Kirishima squeaks and Ashido’s jaw drops.
Sero doesn’t have time to say anything or make a face; it is vital that he keeps his camcorder trained on Bakugou. Sero is surprised Bakugou is allowing him to record. They’ve been friends long enough for Bakugou to realize the potential this has for blackmail. But Bakugou isn’t concerned about the attention at all; he asked to be recorded.
Sero gets the feeling this video won’t be used for blackmail purposes. Nothing has even happened yet and already Sero feels warm. That stripper wasn’t lying; it is definitely too hot in here. By the way, wasn’t Kirishima supposed to tell Bakugou to stop wearing eyeliner around them? It’s bad for their health. How can they tell whether it’s a normal skip in their heart beat or an arrhythmia they feel when they look at him?
“Raccoon Eyes, pass me your phone,” Bakugou commands, and Ashido hastily complies. Her phone has the best speakers. Bakugou opens the Youtube app and finds the song he wants.
As the music starts, Bakugou shrugs off his open flannel, letting it drop to the floor behind him, then lifts his hands above his head in a lazy warm-up stretch, his tank top riding up to reveal a sliver of skin. Not just any skin, a hipbone.
Bakugou’s joggers are form-fitting, tapering to his ankles, but they hang a little low at his tiny waist. Five pairs of eyes latch onto the sharp protrusion, and five mouths form small frowns when Bakugou lowers his arms and his shirt falls back into place.
Bakugou sways his hips as he steps closer to the four people sitting on the couch. He gives his attention to the stripper, since he’s the one in desperate need of Bakugou’s tutoring.
When he is standing almost toe to toe with the stripper, Bakugou turns his back to him, pushing his ass out as he turns. He shoots a coquettish look over his shoulder but faces forward as the music speeds up.
The beat builds quicker and quicker, reaching towards a precipice. If this song was playing in a dance class, Sero knows this part would be accompanied by that fast feet move used in ladder drills, where you exchange your weight from one foot to the other as quickly as you can.
This isn’t a dance class, however. At least, not in the formal sense. Bakugou’s feet don’t move at all. Instead, his booty twerks in the stripper’s face in time to the frenetic beat.
Bakugou can twerk. Really damn well. Holy fucking shit.
Sero envies that candycane stripper, and he can see from the murderous glares his friends are shooting the man that they feel the same way. Bakugou is their friend. What did this stripper ever do to earn this gift? He isn’t even properly appreciative, sitting there as stiff as he was when he was the one supposed to be giving a lap dance.
Bakugou must agree that the man is hopeless and needs further demonstration. He takes a step to the right, standing in front of Ashido, and rolls his body.
He drops into a low squat then leans back on his hands. Bakugou delivers one perfect, pelvic thrust before flipping over onto his hands and knees and arching his back to raise his bubble butt in the air.
Ashido’s hands reach out and make grabby motions but she has the courtesy - or the fear of Bakugou’s wrath - to not touch him without permission.
“Normally you guys don’t let clients touch you, right?” Bakugou says, voice somehow even as he circles his hips, teasing Ashido when his perfect ass rolls within her reach.
The stripper nods.
“Well, you can keep teasing them like this,” Bakugou says, his ass making another rotation past Ashido who is digging her nails into the couch to stop herself from touching, “or if you trust they won’t do anything too obscene, you can let them have a little taste.” Bakugou glances over his shoulder at Ashido, giving a meaningful stare, before looking at the stripper.
“You’ll get higher tips that way, that’s for damn sure.”
Ashido’s eyes widen at Bakugou’s words and, quicker than his twerking, her hands reach out to cup Bakugou’s cheeks, squeezing them and pushing them together.
“Oh god,” Ashido whispers in awe. “I must be dreaming, nobody pinch me.”
Bakugou lets Ashido touch until the first verse starts. To her disappointment and Kaminari’s unease, Bakugou moves over again, this time straddling Kaminari’s lap.
“This is your punishment for masterminding a shit birthday present,” Bakugou says with an evil grin.
Kaminari tries to press himself as far back into the couch as he can, but that only traps him further. Bakugou rests a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder and bends back as far as his spine allows, which is pretty damn far. Bakugou’s tank top rides up again, further this time to reveal his toned abdominals.
Sero is thankful for the zoom feature on his camcorder.
When Bakugou raises back up, he removes his hand from Kaminari’s shoulder and instead uses his hands to tease. They trail down his chest and over his thighs as he grinds sensually on Kaminari’s lap.
They all watch those hands — their hands, in their imaginations — slither up Bakugou’s body, stopping to twist his nipples. Bakugou tilts his head back and moans quietly.
The sound, even diluted as it is traveling across the room, gives Sero a hard-on. He can’t imagine how Kaminari is faring. Oh wait, he doesn’t have to imagine. That handy zoom feature informs him that Kaminari has a hard-on of his own.
“No way,” Kaminari whispers, in the midst of a sexuality crisis.
Bakugou’s wide grin speaks for itself: yes way.
Kaminari’s death blow comes when the song gets to the lyrics “I am a good, good” because Bakugou bounces his butt on top of Kaminari’s dick for each ‘good.’
Sero didn’t buy one of those ghost hunting camcorders, but he’s fairly certain he caught Kaminari’s soul leaving his body.
Leaving Kaminari’s husk of a person behind, Bakugou crawls into Kirishima’s lap. The difference in their relationship versus Bakugou’s with everyone else is instantly apparent. There is a comfort around each other, a trust, and Kirishima isn’t afraid to place his hands on Bakugou’s hips, light enough to not hinder any of Bakugou’s movements. Bakugou lets him, knowing Kirishima just wants to touch him finally after watching him give lap dances to everyone else.
Sero understands that. He’s freaking pissed that he’s relegated to cameraman while his best friends all get a lap dance from Bakugou. This was all Kaminari’s idea! Why does he get a lap dance while Sero gets blue-balls?
It’s an issue he’ll have to bring up at a later date; he isn’t going to interrupt Kirishima’s wet dream come true. Besides, his job is very important. Sero knows one of their old classmates would sell half of their All Might collection to buy this recording, and many others would pay handsomely as well. But Sero doesn’t plan to sell this; it is for the Bakusquad’s sole ownership and viewing pleasure.
Bakugou’s ass sways like a pendulum at the lines “Eh, eh, eh 보기와는 다르게, I don’t play, play, play 널 갖고 장난 안 해.” It is slow, sweet torture. Or pleasure? Kirishima doesn’t look tortured in the slightest. Especially as Bakugou affords him the same privilege as Ashido and moves Kirishima’s hands to his ass to feel it bounce, sway, and grind in Kirishima’s lap.
Kirishima’s hands are forced to let go as Bakugou uses his grip on Kirishima’s thighs to slide himself backwards off Kirishima’s lap, keeping his legs straight and spreading them wide as he sinks to the floor. Spinning away, Bakugou brings his legs together and sits on them. Then he spreads his knees apart, straightens his legs, and rolls the rest of his body up, his ass pushing back as he looks over his shoulder and mouths the final words of the song: “I am a good boy.”
Like fuck he is.
The room is silent without the music. No one knows what to say, still entranced by the show Bakugou put on. Still wondering if maybe they got high and forgot, because how were the last four minutes real life?
Bakugou is entirely unaffected by grinding in his friends’ laps. He retrieves his discarded flannel and puts it back on, then stands with his hands on his hips in front of the stripper who needs to find a new livelihood after having his reputation decimated by an amateur.
“That’s how you give a lap dance, you shitty excuse for a fireman.”
“I’m not actually a—”
“Blasty! How did you learn to dance like that?!” Ashido says, scooting forward to the edge of the couch.
Bakugou shrugs his shoulders. He nudges Ashido with his knee to get her to lean back, then he lays down across their laps, his head in Kirishima’s and his feet in the stripper’s.
“The Old Hag forced me to take dance classes as a kid,” he says, which raises more questions than it answers.
“Yeah, I hated her for it at first. But those lessons have come in handy a few times. Like last semester when that shithead professor wouldn’t let me retake an exam I missed because I had the flu.”
Bakugou ignores Kirishima and Kaminari, digging his heels into the stripper’s thighs to gain his attention.
“You learn anything, fuck-face?”
The man is still as emotionless as before, though his cheeks look slightly pinker.
“Yes, it was very informative. Thank you for teaching me.”
Bakugou scoffs and looks away, up to Kirishima. He nudges his head against Kirishima’s arm, and Kirishima dutifully plays with his hair.
“Which one of you fuckers is buying me a pizza? Can’t believe you made me give you all lap dances on my own fucking birthday. You know how expensive this shit would cost if I did this for a living? None of you fucks could afford me.”
“I feel responsible since I could not perform to your expectations, so I will pay,” the stripper kindly offers. “What would you like?”
Sero never turned off his camcorder, and looking through the lens, he catches the initial expressions of relief cross Ashido, Kaminari, and Kirishima’s faces at not having to pay for pizza. Those relieved smiles melt away as Bakugou shows his appreciation by sitting up and crawling into the stripper’s lap, whispering his order into the man’s ear.
“Hey, Blasty, I’ll buy those cinnamon sticks with the frosting you like! Yeah?!” Kirishima eagerly offers.
“I’ll run to the convenience store and get drinks!” Ashido jumps up, waiting for Bakugou’s approval like a puppy.
Kaminari looks around frantically, searching for something he can offer. On impulse, he pulls Bakugou by the shoulders off of the stripper’s lap and back onto his.
“Uh, back massage?” he offers timidly, hoping to appease the slightly murderous glare Bakugou is giving him for being touched without permission.
“Well?” Bakugou snaps. “Get to it!”
Everyone rushes to fulfill Bakugou’s wishes. Kirishima passes the stripper the money for the cinnamon sticks as he calls in the order Bakugou gave him, and Ashido runs out the door without her jacket to buy some drinks. Kaminari rubs Bakugou’s shoulders, cheeks flaming up when Bakugou tells him to press in deeper and harder.
Sero can’t think of anything to contribute at the moment that isn’t already being taken care of, so he stands back and records. He’ll have to think of things he can do for Bakugou in the future. Wash his laundry, keep Kaminari and Ashido away from his and Kirishima’s apartment for a few days, buy him a new video game…
Whatever Bakugou wants, Sero will do it. Sero’s birthday is coming up and he knows exactly what he wants his present to be.