Touch Therapy

Chapter 1

"Well this is a nice change of scenery!"
Kaminari peered up at Kirishima, squinting slightly as he brought his eyebrows down over his butterscotch eyes.
His head swirled around, glancing briefly around the classroom, as if to remind himself where they were before he responded.

"Dude... we're in detention? In our usual room?" he spluttered, his frown deepening.

"I was being sarcastic!" Kirishima replied, chuckling at his friends dumbfounded expression.

Kaminari groaned at that, leaning forward to slump into his hand, cheek bunched up in his palm as he closed his eyes.
"If Aizawa-sensei doesn't get here soon, he might just return to a dead body. I'm so bored already..." He whined loudly, kicking the leg of the table in front of him.

"Shut the fuck up Pikachu, or else I'll make sure you're dead when he comes back." Bakugou piped up from behind him, his voice in a low growl.
As he spoke, he slammed his foot into the back of Kaminari's chair.

Kaminari made a strangled noise as his stomach hit his table due to the movement of his chair, and he shot a glare over his shoulder at Bakugou.
"Oi dude! If it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be here!" he spat back, sulky frown returning in full force.

Bakugou scowled, lifting his foot to kick the chair again, when the door swung open and Aizawa strolled in, a steaming mug in one hand, and a large folder in the other.

Bakugou dropped his foot back down immediately, a small grunt of annoyance escaping his lips.

Aizawa looked utterly exhausted, even for him.
Heavy purple bags hung under severely bloodshot eyes, skin pasty and colourless, his feet barely lifting as he shuffled to his desk and collapsed in his chair.

"Woah... No offense sir, but you look like you could use a nap. Maybe we should postpone our detention until you're feeling better?" Kirishima baited, biting back a grin when he hears Bakugou snort quietly at the words.

Aizawa lifted his head, blinking at him for a moment, before sighing heavily.
"Nice try Kirishima." He murmured, taking a sip out of his mug, eyes returning to the papers he had spread in front of him.

Kirishima waited a moment longer, staring at him, but it appeared that was all the response he was going to receive.
Giving up quickly on trying to con his way out, Kirishima leant back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling, thinking back to the reason we were in here in the first place.

In all honesty, Kaminari wasn't exactly right.
It wasn't entirely Bakugou's fault we were spending our lunchtime in detention. If anything, it was Kaminari's fault.

The day before, Kaminari had been chasing his classmates around with his stick he had found, attempting to sword fight with anyone who was willing, i.e. Kirishima.
When Kirishima had lost a round, fair and square in his opinion; lying on his back with his makeshift sword a few feet away from his reach, Kaminari's stick pointed at his throat with a manic grin on his face, triumphantly announcing himself the victor; Bakugou had came over, picking up Kirishimas' stick and without a moments hesitation, thwacked Kaminari on the back of the thighs.
Kaminari had immediately buckled over, landing hard on top of Kirishima with his knees buried in his ribs, causing him to lash out on reflex, knocking Kaminari onto his back and gripping his stomach where he had landed.

"DUDE OW, WHAT THE FUCK BAKUGOU?" Kaminari had shouted, rubbing the angry red marks on the back of his legs, his eyes locked with the smirking culprit.

Kirishima remembered laughing uncontrollably as Kaminari lunged at Bakugou, the latter moving effortlessly out of the way of each advance, his movements so graceful it almost looked rehearsed, the smug smirk never leaving his lips.