Listen up, a**hole - Chapter 2

Bakugou grimaced when they showed him the devices, shaking his head immediately.

“I'm not wearing that shit,” he said stubbornly. “No fuckin' way.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya warned him, nudging him lightly. “Relax.”

Bakugou scowled and Midoriya reached for his hand, stroking the rough skin with his thumb.

“He doesn't want to risk anything that would get in the way of his work,” Midoriya explained. “We saw some online that were a lot smaller – I know they're more expensive, but if you think it's a possibility we'd happily pay the price.”

“Of course, these are probably more your style.”

He took two little plastic boxes from a desk drawer, and when he flipped the top open on one, Midoriya's face lit up.

“Yes! Those are the ones!”

“They're certainly doable, but as you said, they're on the expensive side. They're custom made to fit you, which means they can need replacing a lot if you grow and such, but you're probably old enough to be past that problem.”

“See, Kacchan? I told you it was worth asking.”

“Whatever.”

Midoriya gave the doctor an apologetic smile but he seemed entirely unphased by it all, and Midoriya wondered what he must have been through with other patients to numb him so. The process seemed simple enough, and Bakugou conceded a nod when they asked if he'd like to do the fitting for them, which made Midoriya's chest swell with pride.

They had a strange digital scanner in the next room that Bakugou sat beside, pouting a little as it took images of his ear canals. It was over in minutes, and Midoriya watched with fascination when the pictures came up on screen.

“They make them from titanium to fit this shape,” the doctor explained. “so they're incredibly durable and very lightweight, you shouldn't have any issues performing hero work with them in. They adjust automatically to background noise and such, so you should have no need to adjust them manually, but they do have a small on-off switch on the front plate, and you can change other settings through your phone.”

“What about loud noises?” Midoriya asked quickly, getting a glare from Bakugou. “Say, things that would damage his hearing further? Will they help?”

“Absolutely. It reacts in less than half a second, to turn off transmission, so they act like a sort of earplug, and would prolong a huge amount of degradation.”

“Hear that, Kacchan?!”

The glare deepened, and Midoriya stifled a giggle.

“Sorry, poor choice of words. Isn't that cool, though? We should get them, right? If you don't like them we can always try something else.”

“Whatever.”

“That's a yes,” Midoriya explained, grinning. “Let's get them.”

“Mister Bakugou?”

“Whatever shuts the nerd up fastest.”

He looked away stubbornly and Midoriya leaned in closer to the doctor, whispering over the paperwork.

“If you can put a rush order or something on them, money is no object.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

─────

The little box sat on the living room table, and Bakugou seemed to be doing his best to avoid it, to not even look at the thing. Midoriya had come home to find it already waiting there, Bakugou in the kitchen cooking, and he'd heard explosions start the moment he'd opened his mouth.

“You should try them out, Kacchan!”

“I'm standing here fuckin' cooking you dinner and you won't shut up about some shitty... shitty... support gear.”

“I appreciate it, Kacchan, really!” he argued, winding his arms around the man's waist from behind. “It smells so yummy and I can't wait to eat it, I'm just excited is all! Your first support gear!”

“Shut up and eat your dinner.”

“Come eat with me.”

“Whatever.”

He dished out two servings, letting Midoriya scoop rice from the cooker, and soon they were sat opposite each other at their little dining room table, shovelling food into their mouths like their lives depended on it.

“So good!” Midoriya informed him, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster. “Delicious, Kacchan!”

“Mmph. I'ngabest.”

“You are!”

When Midoriya had cleaned his plate he sat back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach as he sighed contentedly, his eyes sinking closed. The apartment was peaceful, with Bakugou setting down his chopsticks for the last time and stopping to contemplate his boyfriend. There was something so blissfully domestic about living with him, about coming home to him after a long patrol or waking up to his stupid curls fanned across their pillows. Bakugou hated to admit how happy it made him.

“Bath,” he demanded, climbing up and grabbing Midoriya's elbow. “You stink.”

“Okay, okay! I can walk, Kacchan!”

He stumbled down the hall, taking a minute to catch on when Bakugou stripped his own shirt off first, then reached for Midoriya's zip.

“Together?”

“Duh,” Bakugou scoffed, stripping him with no pretense. “Get it off.”

He kicked his jumpsuit aside accordingly, letting Bakugou shove him onto a stool as he started the water running. He drenched them both first then left the bathtub to fill as he knelt, lathering Midoriya up with soap bubbles.

“Mmm, Kacchan,” Midoriya hummed. “Feels good.”

The strong hands rubbed circles on his back and shoulders, pressed lightly at his neck, and made Midoriya turn to jelly under his touch.

“So happy, Kacchan,” he mumbled. “So good.”

Soon he moved his attention to the nest of green curls atop his head, combing fingers through them as he lathered shampoo, scratching lightly at Midoriya's scalp and making him purr.

“You're so good to me,” Midoriya sighed fondly. “I love you, Kacchan.”

“Love you too.”

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