Bakugou Katsuki

Soft shuffling made up most of the noise in the airport, with occasional beeping from a scanner catching on someone's belt. Now and then, an announcement would mumble timestamps and updates on the overhead speakers, which Bakugou subconsciously noted every time.

As much as he would have liked to relax, this was a work trip. No time for leisure. Worse, he had to bring along his current sidekick. He never kept sidekicks for long, but this one had managed to get hired at the same time as he was called out for a high-profile villain. He should have left them at his agency to do the mountain of paperwork he had left for the others to get through. Unfortunately, they needed the experience. And if they couldn’t handle it, that made it easy to fire them the moment they got back.

The hero steps through the metal detector, holding back an eye roll when he’s sent to a separate line. A specialized line for pro-heroes or anyone permitted to carry heavy support gear such as his compact gauntlets. Staff rifled through his things and his sidekicks', shoving clipboards toward them and requesting that they answer each question honestly.

Stupid shit, mostly identification, quirk questionnaire, anything to make sure whatever hero they were letting fly wouldn’t destroy the plane just by stepping onto it. This part was always a hassle when they recognized Bakugou. The staff and passengers alike always seemed a bit uncomfortable, even when he barely muttered a word outside of his irritated acceptance and thank-yous.

At least his sidekick could answer simple questions. From what he could see, their question sheet seemed targeted towards sidekicks.

What agency are you traveling with?

How long have you been with this agency?

Have you traveled with this agency before?

Nosy as hell. He understood why they had all these precautions. Quirks continued to grow, and society couldn’t keep up. Better safe than sorry. But often he just wanted a smooth process. Walking through metal detectors and then getting on a plane. With a nearly three-hour flight, an hour or more of security was the last thing he wanted to suffer through.

Seeing the look on security's faces when they realized they couldn't condemn him for anything he was carrying was enough to make up for the wasted time. Sometimes being a walking bomb was entertaining.

Bakugou hauled his bag up off the conveyor belt, silently adjusting a strap they had managed to undo in their search. Not even a glance toward his sidekick as he stepped further into the airport and toward his gate.

He so badly wanted to be in his gear just to give himself some space. It wasn’t exactly crowded, and somehow every single person was getting on his very last nerves. Only a few started recognizing him, hard to miss a large, angry blonde stomping through an airport.

Didn’t matter either way. He plopped down at his gate, bag dropping in the seat beside him before he slid it off and forced it onto the floor under his seat. Unused to traveling with someone else, adjusting to another body proved difficult. They would also be stuck together for longer than he would like to spend time with another human being.

“Fuckin’ hate flying commercial.” He grumbled, rubbing away the anger that had settled on his face during the whole ordeal.

Bakugou dropped cash onto the counter, took his snack of choice, and made his way back over to his gate. Some spicy chips after a frustrating run with security, yes please. Airport security had a special knack for pissing him off, and they made him verify his ticket of all things. ID, sure. Mission logs, why not. But apparently the location was suspicious, as if people didn’t fly to Okinawa all the fucking time. He wasn’t a tourist, he had a job to do.

He had to let it go. Security checks were over and done with. Dwelling on it would be a waste of his time and energy. Two things he valued above all else.

The familiar burn of spice pulled him away from his anger momentarily, enough for him to see that his previous spot had been taken by a family of four, one of the toddlers leaning a little too close to his belongings.

His chest collapsed in an exhale that held more exhaustion than anger. Obviously, he didn’t bother telling them off, not worth it. The parents looked tired, and he could relate to that at the moment. He simply grabbed his bag with a casualness that suggested he planned to move anyway, and began his search for a new seat.

The airport itself was filling up a bit more, his gate was all too popular for his comfort. All loud families or single people who didn’t know how to space themselves properly in a public area.

Looked like he had to settle for actually sitting next to someone. His grip tightened on the strap of his bag, itching to cancel this mission and let someone else handle it. But that would feel like quitting. So he sucked in a breath and allowed his heavy boots to carry him toward the corner, where only one person was sitting.

They had found the jackpot of seating, and he was about to ruin that by wanting that exact same comfort away from the groups of people.

His stuff made a soft thud as it connected with the ground near an empty seat, promptly filled by him, and he sent his head back against the wall. Desperately trying to relax when everything was making him feel absolutely crazy.

No small talk. No small talk. No small talk

Was traveling always this goddamn exhausting? In school, it was far more anxiety-inducing. He wasn’t exactly sure if he would prefer the stress over whatever this was.