Chapter Text
one.
Bakugou wasn't one to step away from a challenge, never had been. To be honest, he was kind of (read: absolutely) determined to a fault. It was precisely that attitude that usually landed him in countless annoying situations thanks to the provocation of the extras in his class. Usually.
Today was a bit different though. Instead of that soy sauce fucker openly questioning his bravado, it was Kirishima asking for an arm wrestling match. Maybe he slipped in that he hadn't been beaten yet - not even by Shouji or Satou - to egg on some extra reaction. Not that it really impressed the blonde, considering Bakugou didn't know who the hell he was talking about anyway. Normally, Bakugou would try to ignore such a weak attempt at instigating, but things weren't exactly normal.
It had been a few weeks since everything that happened at Kamino Ward. Well enough time for everyone to settle down about it, but some still had reservations on many things, specifically Bakugou, because of it. He didn't give a fuck; enjoyed being able to just focus on his hero training.
Or he would enjoy it, except he hadn’t been focusing very well lately. That wasn't to say he was falling behind, as if he even could, but he often found himself zoned out more during classes and training. Which was fucking weird and not at all like him.
Even weirder than that was the fact that Kirishima and his pack of nerds seemed to notice what was going on with him and casually started hanging around him more. They’d include him in their idiotic pastimes, and if Bakugou was being honest with himself he couldn’t exactly deny that he enjoyed them. But even if he is less annoyed about being pestered by dunce face and soy sauce, it's not like anyone has to know about it.
His relationship with Kirishima had changed only slightly. If anything, Kirishima just spent more time around Bakugou than he had before. These days they'd eat, study, and train together. Bakugou wasn't complaining, he didn't have to change any part of his routine. The only differences really being that his lunch table was at least 3 seats fuller and during his morning runs he didn't wear headphones anymore, he could just listen to Kirishima's rambling. It worked out. Kirishima didn't mind being only half paid attention to and Bakugou didn't mind giving him half his attention.
One thing Bakugou didn't like about all of this was how much he thought about holding Kirishima's hand.
The thought never occurred to him before, but after Kirishima had called out for him that night in Kamino, Bakugou had imagined holding his friend's hands almost every day since. He wanted to know how soft they were when they weren’t hardened; what they’d look like against Bakugou’s own; if his hold was gentle; whether his fingers would glide across skin or if his callouses would drag along it...
Anyway.
When he accepts the redhead's arm wrestling challenge, it's less because of the challenge and more because Bakugou maybe, sort of, possibly wants to hold Kirishima's hand. Kind of.
It's a sunday afternoon, they're sitting at the counter in the communal kitchen finishing up a post workout snack when Kirishima asks him to a manly match of arm wrestling with a friendly smile on his face.
Bakugou schools his face into something that shows disinterest as he turns to look at him. “Why? Think you can beat me?” He asks.
“Won't know unless I try! It'll be fun, I promise,” Kirishima answers, he looks so hopeful.
That kind of face definitely wears on what little resolve Bakugou has left, so he just snorts and offers an indifferent, “whatever.”
Kirishima beams at him, “Sweet! You know the rules right? No quirks, elbow has to stay down, that kind of stuff?” He chuckles softly when Bakugou only blinks at him. “Just making sure,” he says moving his elbow onto the counter and holds his hand up.
Bakugou wipes a sweaty palm on his pants and moves his arm next to Kirishima's, who seems to have taken the least comfortable position of the two. Bakugou bristles a little at that, like he's being underestimated, but doesn't mention it as he takes Kirishima's hand. It's rough, solid, and impossibly steady. A smile pulls at one corner of his mouth and he hopes it passes as just a competitive smirk.
“Ready?” Kirishima asks.
Bakugou grunts in response. He looks up from their hand to the other boy's face. The redhead looks determined and a little too excited for someone whose about to lose their undefeated title.
Cute, his brain supplies.
“Alright, don't hold back,” Kirishima says with a grin. His hand tightens around Bakugou's letting him know they're starting.
Bakugou scoffs. “As if,” he says and pushes at Kirishima's hand, not yet using all his force. The other seems to be doing the same. He gives an experimental push only to be matched by Kirishima. Bakugou watches him for any signs that tell when he plans on making another move. Finding none, he quirks an eyebrow at the other boy and adds more force.
Kirishima keeps his hand steady under Bakugou's strength, his arm only leaning back slightly.
Bakugou shifts his gaze to their joined hands. He wonders, unfortunately not for the first time, what it'd be like to slip his fingers through Kirishima's. Probably more pleasant than wrestling. He bites the inside of his lip and decides that this is probably not the best time be thinking about holding his bro's hand in a romantic way. He can't help it, being around Kirishima lately kinda makes his brain do weird shit sometimes, like using 'bro' much too often, for example.
He especially can't help it when his eyes focus on a vein on his opponent's hand. He follows the way it travels down his forearm. He marvels at the way the tendons flex under skin as the arm he's ogling at pushes hard at his. Bakugou loses his advantage, distracted. He clicks his tongue and looks back up at Kirishima who's wearing a cheeky grin now. He feels heat blossom in his cheeks and huffs applying more force to Kirishima's hand, to no avail. His lower lip juts out as he scowls at the betrayal from his own arm.
“You look so cute when you pout like that,” Kirishima coos at Bakugou teasingly, but there’s a sincerity hidden underneath it that the blonde doesn’t understand.
It throws Bakugou off a little, more blood rushing to his face. He loses more ground to Kirishima's hold, but recovers quickly. He lifts his gaze to glare at the other boy before a thought crosses his mind. Instead of glaring, Bakugou softens his features and looks at Kirishima. The blonde smiles softly, as genuine-looking as he can muster. “Do you really think so?” he asks, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
Kirishima falters, obviously not expecting That Look from his friend. Bakugou takes advantage and slams his arm back and grins. He extracts his hand from Kirishima's, who's still gaping, and gets up from his spot moving to leave the kitchen.
“Don't dish out what you can't take, jackass,” he calls over his shoulder before exiting and heading to his room.
Once there he falls onto his bed and wills his heart and his head to shut the fuck up. He rolls onto his back and looks at his hands, smiling dumbly.
“Stupid,” he mutters quietly, throwing one arm over his eyes and rests his other hand over his heart that's beating too fast for only having won an arm wrestling match. That's for sure not why it's racing. He thinks about Kirishima holding his hand and calling him cute under completely different circumstances.
So fucking stupid.
two.
It’s Kirishima’s birthday, and for lack of a better idea Bakugou decides he’d just make him breakfast. Or that’s what he thought he’d do. When he told Kirishima as much, the boy was ecstatic, but insisted that Bakugou let him help so he could learn a thing or two. Bakugou agreed relatively easily since it was his birthday after all.
Bakugou wasn’t really worried about it until they got to the kitchen and he learns exactly what Kirishima knows about cooking. Which is basically nothing.
Bakugou bites back a gripe and starts pulling out the necessary materials and ingredients. He tells Kirishima what they're making and lets him help with the simple things like measuring and mixing. He's thankful that it's a sunday, because if it was a school day they'd never finish before class.
They start cooking what takes the longest and work from there and most of it goes by without incident. Kirishima, being used to Bakugou's teaching methods, picks up most things quickly.
They're almost finished, so Bakugou decides it's time to start the eggs. Kirishima prefers scrambled eggs usually. It's a simple enough task so Bakugou lets Kirishima take care of it while be focuses making sure none of the items on the stove are burning.
After stirring the hashbrowns, Bakugou glances are the other boy who's adding a bit of milk to his bowl of cracked eggs. He uses a fork to stir it together and Bakugou watches him for a few second just to make sure that, yeah, he's definitely just stirring it, and decides to speak up. “You're supposed to whisk it, dumbass,” he supplies helpfully. He turns back to the stove to flip the bacon and sausage.
“Whisk? Does it make a difference?” he hears the redhead ask.
“Would I mention it if it didn't?” Bakugou mutters, turning to look at the other. “You're mixing eggs, you stir and they just move around the bowl. You whisk it and it breaks the yoke.”
“Thought they were the same thing…” Kirishima trails off with a confused pout, giving the fork in his hand a perplexed look.
With a click of his tongue, Bakugou turns over a pancake before moving next to the other boy and stands sort of behind him. He reaches one arm around Kirishima to tilt the bowl in the redhead's grasp, and places his free hand over Kirishima's fork-wielding one.
Kirishima tenses for a second, surprised at the presence that's suddenly all around him, but easily lets himself be guided by Bakugou. The blonde moves his hand for him grumbling something the redhead probably should've been listening to. Instead he finds himself distractedly leaning back into Bakugou's chest; feels it when he takes in a breath, chest rising against the redhead's back, and then when he breathes out, the disturbed air tickling Kirishima's thinly clothed shoulder.
The blonde's movements stutter, but he quickly recovers. Bakugou drops his hand from Kirishima's a second later to let the other boy try for himself, but he keeps his other hand on the bowl, around Kirishima. He lets his hand rest on the counter, so that the shark toothed boy is still caged between Bakugou's arms. He lets himself register the way Kirishima leans against him, appreciating the warmth he brings.
He's practically holding Kirishima. If he could just bring himself to wrap his arms around his middle. It would be so easy to just pull the other close to him. If Bakugou was anyone else it might not even be that a weird of a gesture. Bros hold each other sometimes, right?
Bakugou doesn't get the chance to think about it too long, the bacon sizzles loudly from the frying pan left unattended on the stove. With a soft huff he removes his arms from around the other boy and moves back to where he'd been before. After peeling off the bacon finished bacon and sausage he places them on a plate. Bakugou also pulls a pancake off a pan and poors the last of the batter in its place.
Kirishima dumps the now scrambled eggs into the pan that had been used for the meat and grabs a spatula, which Bakugou swiftly plucks out of his grip.
“Put bread in the toaster,” he directs, and moves the eggs around in the pan.
Kirishima does as he's told and sits atop the counter as he waits for the toast to pop. He has a nice view of Bakugou's back from his spot, but his marveling is cut short when Ashido bounds into the kitchen.
“Ugh, Kiri. I envy you,” she says moseying over to the pantry, staring longingly at the plate of pancakes on the counter. “Not only did you snag a relatively cute boy, but one that can cook too! No fair.”
Kirishima almost chokes on his spit and gives her an affronted look. “Mina-!” he begins to say, before Bakugou pipes up.
“Who in the fuck are you calling ‘relatively cute’? You wanna fucking die?” He growls, and swats her hand away as she tries to steal two pieces of bacon.
She manages to take one and books it out of the kitchen before Bakugou can retaliate. She calls out a ‘thank you’ and a ‘happy birthday’ over her shoulder as she goes.
Bakugou grumbles about good for nothing free loaders and turns off the burners. He starts to divide the food onto two plates.
Kirishima watches him, brow furrowed. Mina definitely just implied they were dating and Bakugou didn't even mention it. He must've heard it since he heard the cute part. Did he not know what she meant? Did he just not care? Did he want-?
Kirishima startles when the toaster pops and moves to pull the toast out. He's stopped by Bakugou who shoves a loaded plate into his hands tells him to sit down before anything got cold. Any and all thoughts exit Kirishima's mind when he catches a whiff of the food on his plate. Obediently, he sits down at the island where they usually sit and uses the butter Bakugou passes to him and the syrup already on the counter to drench his pancakes.
When Bakugou sits down, he hands him his toast on a napkin - he even put a generous amount of Kirishima's favorite jam on it. Kirishima beams at him and gives the best thanks he can muster with his mouth full.
Bakugou makes a face at him and tells him not to talk with his mouth full. He has a smug smirk pulling at his lips, though, and it takes a few seconds of internally debating before Kirishima can finally turn away from him.
Damn, Kirishima thinks, how did I snag a guy like him?
three.
Bakugou finds himself in Kirishima's room often. Tonight's not different. They wrapped up another study session and Kirishima invited Bakugou to stay and watch a movie since it was still early in the evening. He shrugged in agreement and settled down on his friend's bed.
They decided to watch a horror movie. It was nearing the end of October, Kirishima just had his birthday not even a week ago, and he wanted something festive. They picked something random to start with and leaned against Kirishima's headboard. It was a foreign film, which was fine. Bakugou preferred subtitles anyway. Having to deal with a quirk that involved explosions all the time left his ears ringing for a while any time he'd use it. And he used it often.
The movie was actually pretty good. It was scary enough for Kirishima to lean into his side cuddling a pillow close enough to his face so that when something eerie happened he could hide behind it. Bakugou rested against him in return, balancing the weight so he wasn't getting pushed off the bed every time his friend squirmed. Sometimes Kirishima would make these quiet squeaking noises. Bakugou found them so cute he couldn't even bring himself to make fun of the other for how unmanly it was.
Kirishima wasn't necessarily jumpy, but a couple of times his hand would skit over to Bakugou like he wanted to hold onto him. He'd take it back quickly enough though and for the most part Bakugou didn't mind.
During a particularly alarming jump scare at the climax of the film, Bakugou found himself a little fidgety too. So when Kirishima's hand jumped over to his he decided to slip his fingers through the other boys’. Kirishima tightened his grip as he adjusted so his arm wasn't in an uncomfortable position. When he didn't let go after the scene ended, Bakugou allowed himself to enjoy the way their palms slotted against each other, content with the way Kirishima's thumb rolled over the knuckles of his first finger. He was so distracted with it he only noticed the movie ended when the credits began to roll.
“Can't believe it ended like that,” Kirishima mutters, using his free hand to search for another film. “Why'd she have to leave the book? I was rooting for her too.”
“She didn't sleep for, like, three fuckin’ days towards the end. S'not surprising,” Bakugou grumbles. He stifled a yawn with one hand and absentmindedly squeezes Kirishima's with the other.
Kirishima hums, “You tired? We can call it a night if you want. I know it's probably past your bedtime by now. When do you go to bed again? Like, as soon as the sun's down?” He chuckles as he catches the pillow Bakugou tries to swing at him.
“Some of us actually work hard and need full nights of fuckin’ sleep,” Bakugou says. He sits up a little straighter and squints at Kirishima's stupid muscle clock. It's almost eleven at night, so he really probably should go to bed. He weighs his options.
“Bro! I do pretty much all the same stuff you do in a day!” Kirishima whines.
Bakugou grunts, “Maybe if you were smarter then you'd know how important sleep is.” He looks at Kirishima, who's pouting now. His lower lip pushed out and his ridiculously tiny brows furrowed. Bakugou has force himself to pull his eyes away from his friends mouth to look in his eyes. He doesn't understand when that became a problem for him. Maybe he's just that tired. Lack of sleep is making him almost think about kissing his friend.
Kirishima fists his free hand into his shirt above his heart, “My best friend disrespecting me in my own home,” Kirishima shakes his head, with a faux hurt look on his face. He looks so dumb Bakugou has to bite his inner cheek to keep from smiling.
Best friend?
Bakugou snorts and gives Kirishima's hand a final squeeze before retracting his own. He decides it's definitely better to go to bed rather than accidentally do anything to make Kirishima not want him as a best friend. “You'll get over it,” he says then gets up from the bed and stretches, missing the way Kirishima watches him in favor of gathering up the school supplies they'd abandoned earlier.
“Goodnight, Bakugou!” Kirishima calls as Bakugou moves to the door.
“‘Night, shitty hair,” he mumbles just loud enough for the other to hear as he pulls the door shut and pads over to his room next door.
He drops his shit on his desk and moves through his nightly routine. He shuffles into bed after the lights are off and runs a hand through his hair tugging lightly.
Best friend, huh?
Why didn't that feel good enough?
four.
They were at a small local restaurant owned by a small time hero tucked away in a corner of town not far UA. It was the only way to get permission to go off school grounds unattended. All of the students were going a little stir crazy being cooped up, and even heading home for the weekend most parents weren't keen on letting their kids stray too far.
Before the dorms were built they would go to a diner that was halfway between Bakugou's parents’ place and Kirishima's. But since Kamino, they took to just studying at the dorms.
Kirishima had suggested they try to get permission to go off school grounds for a change after things simmered down, and Bakugou didn't argue. He'd rather be at the dorms than at home, but that didn't mean he wasn't tired of being there either. And, even though he'd never admit it, he was kind of glad to be hanging out with Kirishima outside of school, just the two of them.
They ate first and then began their studying. Bakugou had mellowed out some in his tutoring, learning with time what methods Kirishima took the most information from. They had built up a routine for their study time that worked for both of them and took the least amount of time for the best results. They took their time today though, not yet wanting to go back to dorms.
It was a couple hours into studying when Kirishima finally closes his history text book and sighs. Stretching his arms over his head he looked across the table at Bakugou. “Wanna get going?”
Bakugou checks the time on his phone, a little shocked to see how long they'd been there. He mutters a short affirmation and began to collect his supplies. Kirishima doing the same.
Bakugou goes to grab the last item on the table at the same time Kirishima decides to as well. Their hands brush for a moment and Kirishima pulls his hand back, apologizing with a lazy grin.
“You tryna’ hold my hand or something?” Bakugou deadpans stuffing the offending pen into his bag and sliding it onto his shoulders.
Kirishima's eyebrows go up and his mouth opens ready to deny, but he stops himself, swapping it for a challenging grin. “Obviously,” he says holding his hand out for Bakugou to take.
Bakugou, not to be bested, huffs out a small breath. Challenge fucking accepted. He grabs Kirishima's hand and pulls him out of the restaurant with little resistance except for on the way out the door when Kirishima stops to thank the wait staff. He rolls his eyes a little too fondly as they make their way down the street back towards the school.
He glances over at Kirishima to see the other boy smiling wide, showing off his pointy teeth. Bakugou decides to slow his pace, wanting to take his time on the way back. They stroll through the city blocks at a leisurely pace, hands swing lightly between them. Bakugou shoves his other hand in his coat pocket and pretends to look at something interesting off to his side when he moves to intertwine their fingers.
Kirishima hums quietly in appreciation and he drags his calloused thumb lightly up and down Bakugou's knuckles.
Too soon, they arrive near the school. Bakugou internally sighs as he loosens his grip on Kirishima's hand. He revels in the feeling of Kirishima's strong hand over his for as long as he can. He appreciates how the redhead's hand is just larger than his own, the length of his fingers where they curl against the back of his hand.
He waits for the other boy to drop his hand first, not sure he can make himself let go. When he doesn't, even as they’re passing through the front gates of the school, Bakugou looks at Kirishima only to find him looking down at their clasped hands with fascination. Bakugou can't help but breathe out a small laugh.
Kirishima looks up at him probably astounded to hear him laugh so softly and not maniacal. A small blush rises up in his face, from being caught looking at their hands, Bakugou guesses.
“Nerd,” Bakugou mumbles.
They make their way into the dorms and to the elevators without delay. There isn't anyone in the common room to see them. The elevator ride is short, just one story, and before too long they're standing in front of Kirishima's door.
They look at each other for barely a moment waiting for the other to say something. When it's obvious Bakugou isn't going to, Kirishima speaks.
“Wanna play mario kart or somethin’?” he asks.
“I guess,” Bakugou answers, noncommittally, but the small upturn in the corners of his lips say otherwise. Anyone else would have missed it.
It's a good thing Kirishima is here to make sure everything Bakugou does is appreciated then.
five.
Boom.
Fuck, Bakugou would be lucky if no one else woke up after that. He eases himself back down in his bed. He'd woken up abruptly from a nightmare after he shot off a small explosion from his hand. Small or not, explosions at - fuck what time was it? He looks over to glare at his alarm clock. - almost three in the morning weren’t exactly discreet.
He wipes his sweaty palms on his shirt front and then presses them to his eyes. He really hopes that multi-armed fucker with the super hearing is a heavy sleeper. Willing his heart to calm down he practices taking deep breaths. This wasn't his first nightmare, but it was his first in a while. He tries to push away what it was about, tries to forget it immediately like he would a normal dream. He knows he shouldn't, he remembers what they told him, way back when he started having them after the sludge monster incident about how he should analyze it and rewrite it, but right now in the dark of his room, alone, hands trembling slightly, he opts for something else.
He takes a breath in and holds its, and pushes his mind to think about things he likes. He thinks about a recipe he'd been wanting to try; changing up the reps in his workout routine since it started getting a little boring; the album Jirou recommended to him; the song that reminded him of Kirishima; the way Kirishima laughed at a joke tape face made at dinner; how Kirishima radiates warmth even though it's winter and by all rights he should really be fucking freezing especially since he hardly ever dresses appropriately for cold weather, not that Bakugou's complaining, who would complain about abs like that tho-?
Knock, knock, knock.
Bakugou breathes out quietly, slowly. Maybe if he keeps quiet they'll think he was still sleeping and forget about it.
“Bakugou?” A quiet voice calls from the hall. Not just any voice, though.
Bakugou takes one more deep breath to steal his nerves and gets up. He opens the door to find a very sleepy, very worried looking Kirishima at his door. Worse than the look on his face is the fact that the abs Bakugou was just busy objectifying are on full display since of course he would sleep shirtless. Not to mention his hair is down, hanging limply above his shoulders. Bakugou thinks it looks better down. It looks soft to the touch, hell all of him looks soft right now. Heat creeps into Bakugou's face and he counts his lucky stars for how dark it is right now. Why the fuck is he thinking about how soft his bro's chest looks?
“I thought I heard something and… I wanted to see if you were okay, so…” He trails off with a wave of his hand. His voice is a little jagged from lack of use and Bakugou has to grip the door a little tighter as if it could physically stop him from swooning. He's looking at Bakugou all over, like he's trying to find something wrong. He has a weird expression that makes the blonde's skin prickle. He looks so… caring?
Bakugou has to look away from Kirishima. “‘M fine. Go back to bed. Didn't mean to wake you,” he grumbles. Only one of those statements he truly means.
“It's okay, you know? If you're not fine. It's… It doesn't make you any less manly,” the last part Kirishima says in a very serious tone. He still has that look on his face, eyes now focused on Bakugou's face.
It takes Bakugou a bit by surprise, Kirishima's usually so easygoing, he's never actually seen him this intense outside of training. He meets his gaze for a second before looking at his bare shoulder instead. He isn't sure of what to say or of what he wants. If he should turn Kirishima away, or bask in his presence. He chooses to say nothing.
“Do you mind if I come in?” Kirishima asks.
Bakugou's brow furrows and he refuses to look at Kirishima's face. He's not even sure what he's afraid to find there. Pity? Sincerity? He set his jaw and isn't surprised when it aches, he was probably grinding his teeth to hell up until he woke up. He huffs, not really sure what the fuck he's doing as he moves away from the door and sits down on his bed, leaving Kirishima to follow. He stares pointedly at his alarm clock avoiding Kirishima, but hears the door click shut softy and feels the bed dip next to him.
It's quiet for less than a minute, but it makes Bakugou uncomfortable and he's about to tell the redhead that he should just go back to bed, but before he gets a chance to Kirishima finally speaks up.
“I know you probably don't wanna talk about it. I feel like you'd blow me up if I asked, so…” he trails off and the bed creaks when he shifts, “wanna hear about my dream instead?”
“Since when d'you care about taking an explosion?” Bakugou peaks at him from the corner of his eye. Kirishima's sat criss cross, body facing Bakugou, leaning back on his hands slightly. He's looking towards Bakugou's balcony, but when Bakugou speaks he faces him.
“I don't,” he answers, cracking a small smile, barely visible in the dark. “I'm worried about everyone else hearing it,” he says like he's stating the obvious.
Bakugou scoffs. “Whatever,” he says. He moves so that his back is against his headboard and mimics the way Kirishima's sitting so he's facing Kirishima directly. He keeps his eyes trained on the corner of the bed just beyond Kirishima's hand.
“I actually had a bad dream too,” Kirishima sighs. He looks at Bakugou's hands where they rest in his lap. It's hard to be sure in the dark of the room, the only light peeking from the curtain hiding the balcony door and the alarm clock on the nightstand, but it looks like he's fidgeting. Kirishima's hand twitches. “It was about Kamino… I have a reoccurring dream about it. It's a little different every time. Sometimes I can't reach your hand, or my voice won't work when I call out to you, or All For One finds us. This time I didn't have control over my quirk… and your hand slipped out of mine,” he sighs again and flicks his eyes up to Bakugou's face, he's looking back at him now with an unreadable expression.
Kirishima gives a small smile and tilts his head a little to the side. Shrugging a little self consciously he says, “I know it's silly because you're here now, and it was months ago, but…” he shifts to lean forward, putting his hands in his lap. He stares down at them and says, “Sometimes it's hard to calm down until I see you again, and even then I feel like I have to touch you to make sure you're really there.”
Kirishima hears Bakugou move in front of him, and then he sees Bakugou's hand reaching towards him, palm upturned.
“I'm here,” Bakugou says quiet, but firmly.
Kirishima meets his hand halfway, interlacing their fingers. He looks at Bakugou and tries to read his expression in the dark. He can't make out much, but he can see the tension in his shoulders dissipated some. He can tell he's not going to open up to him tonight though. Kirishima opens his mouth to say something else, but a yawn comes out instead.
Bakugou snorts at him. “Do you-,” he clicks his tongue and looks at their joined hands, “-do you wanna sleep in here?” he mumbles.
Kirishima chuckles softly at how cute he looks. “Yep,” is all he says before he crawls up to the head of the bed, momentarily releasing Bakugou's hand in order to slide under the covers. As soon as Bakugou does the same he immediately finds his hand again.
There's a quiet ‘G'night, Bakugou,’ followed by a small grunt, and both boys surrender to sleep.
+1
Kirishima was sore.
They focused on quirk training during their lessons, and trying to hold up unbreakable multiple times for longer and longer each time was exhausting. Kirishima was glad this class happened to be the last of the day. He was beyond ready to eat a lot more than necessary and go straight to bed.
After dressing into his uniform again, he glances around the near empty locker room. He realizes that it's just him and Bakugou now. When did that happen? He lets his gaze fall on Bakugou next to him. Was he waiting for Kirishima?
The blonde was looking incredibly angry at the moment. Kirishima wondered idly if his brow ever hurt from being pinched so often. The redhead has to busy his hands with items in his locker to keep from reaching out to massage the poor muscle.
They hadn't been paired up for training, but Kirishima could still hear the other boy from where he practiced. It was hard not to. The other boy practically lit up the entire room with explosions. Kirishima glances at Bakugou's hands and notices a slight tremor in them as the blonde buttons just over halfway up his shirt.
Kirishima can't bite back a sigh. It wouldn't be the first time Bakugou overused his quirk and hurt his hands in the process. It was the first in a while though, Kirishima couldn't remember if it had even happened since Kamino. Kirishima focuses back in putting his belongings into his bag. If the redhead has to guess he'd say Bakugou was being hard on himself because he failed the provisional licensing exam and then immediately went and got himself suspended. He'd only been back from that for a few days and was already pushing it, probably feeling like he'd fallen behind.
The redhead's about to ask how the other is when Bakugou stands and slams his lockers shut with his elbow. He stomps his way out of the locker room, going slow enough for Kirishima to catch up. He takes the hint and falls into pace with Bakugou, biting his inner cheek.
He's been meaning to talk to Bakugou about a couple of things.
One being that Kirishima definitely probably has a crush on him. He should've seen it coming. It was impossible, honestly, to have someone like Bakugou in his life and not fall in love with them. Once he got through most of the outer layers he was able to see how genuine and caring the other was, even if most saw those tendencies with a negative connotation. He had so much determination to be a good person. You don't just aim to be the next All Might so you can dick around once you get there. To most, Bakugou's goal seems unrealistic and far too big for a 16 year old, but Kirishima thought it was incredibly manly.
Another thing he really needed go talk to Bakugou about was a matter of communication. Kirishima wasn't about to push Bakugou into talking to him about his feelings, he just wanted to make sure Bakugou understood that Kirishima was there for him to blow off steam with too. That he didn't have to go around picking fights with people after curfew to feel better.
Kirishima knew that Bakugou and Midoriya had a weird relationship that he wouldn't understand. After they had fought, Kirishima wanted to ask Bakugou about it himself, but it wasn't like any of it was his business. The fact that Bakugou had been less aggressive to Midoriya since then meant that at least whatever they beat one another up over was starting to get better, at least. It lightened the petty weight of the disappointment Kirishima felt at not being the one who knew all of Bakugou's business.
Bakugou had gone to Kirishima after the fight all bruised and dirty, he even looked like he'd been crying. He didn't say much, just that he had a fight with midoriya and he was suspended for 4 days, and then he crawled into Kirishima's bed when the other let him in and was gone by the time Kirishima woke up for school.
Kirishima had been in a weird mood since. He was confused at first, not really sure why the fight bothered him so much. When he identified the feeling as a sort of jealousy, he realized maybe his feelings for his friend weren't the feelings of a friend.
He was jealous of the fact that Bakugou hadn't come to him first.
Now, after a week of arguing with himself over whether he should talk to Bakugou about his feelings, he decided to just do it. No regrets. He didn't expect anything from the other anyway, he just wanted to get the weight off his chest. Kirishima mentally sighed as he looked over the blonde. He really hoped his feelings didn't ruin the relationship they already had, he didn't want the other to feel uncomfortable around him.
They made their way into the dorms and went for the elevator. “Studying tonight?” Kirishima asks.
“No.”
Kirishima hums. “Mind if I hang out with you then anyway?”
Bakugou huffs out a quiet, “whatever,” and exits the lift as soon as the doors open up to their floor.
They pass Kirishima's room and shuffle into Bakugou's. Shutting the door behind him, Kirishima shucks off his bag and jacket and plops onto Bakugou's bed where they usually wound up when they'd hand out.
Bakugou grumbles something about changing and goes into the lavatory connected to his room. When he came back out he's in shorts and a t-shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulls a small jar out of his nightstand drawer. Kirishima recognizes it as a pain relief cream.
“Hands hurt?” Kirishima inquires, shuffling closer to Bakugou.
“What do you think?” Bakugou says. He sounds mad, but there's no heat directed at Kirishima. His fingers grip the jar oddly, like he's trying not to let anything touch his palms.
“Here, let me,” Kirishima reaches for the jar, pulling it out of Bakugou's weak grip quickly. “One of my mom's is a masseuse. Used to give me hand massages all the time when I didn't really have a lot of control over my quirk,” Kirishima smiles fondly and opens the jar. He takes one of Bakugou's hands and pulls it into his lap. The other boy looks like he wants to object, but before he can Kirishima speaks again. “If you don't like it I'll stop, but you should at least try it,” he says meeting the other boy's hard stare, leveling it with a hopeful smile.
“Fine,” is all Bakugou says as he averts his eyes. He moves some to get comfortable. They wind up in a position similar to the one they were in the night Kirishima slept in Bakugou's room.
Kirishima looks back down at the hand in his lap. He takes a finger's worth of cream and begins to massage the palm of Bakugou's hand, assuming it hurts there the most. Bakugou's sharp inhale proves it, but he keeps working steadily regardless. Better to get the worst of it over with first.
He works diligently, applying pressure to all the right places. He can see Bakugou relax in his peripheral the longer he goes at it. When he's sure he’s gone over every step at least 5 times he drops the hand to pick up the other.
Bakugou makes the smallest and cutest noise of protest when his first hand is dropped and Kirishima has to bite his tongue hard to avoid cooing at the pout on his face. Bakugou glares at him, daring him to say something about it.
Kirishima's heart contracts when he looks up to find a blushing Bakugou. His cheeks puffed out a little from the pouting he's probably unaware of. Kirishima would absolutely love to kiss him right now. He doesn't though, instead forces himself to focus at the task at hand (no pun intended) and tries really hard not to think about other noises he could extract from the other boy.
He takes more cream and massages Bakugou's other hand. When he's finished he lets his fingers run over Bakugou's a few completely unnecessary times. He eventually, reluctantly, releases Bakugou's hand.
Unfortunately, Bakugou doesn't make any noise this time, but he looks way less irritated than before, so it's still a win. He tosses the jar back into the drawer he took it from and rests heavily against his headboard. Once settled, Bakugou looks at Kirishima expectantly.
Oh, right. He did invite himself, didn't he? He wanted to confess to Bakugou. He mentally berates himself for not planning better. Maybe now isn't the best time. Bakugou looks so comfortable right now, he'd really hate to ruin the moment. On second thought, maybe it's the perfect time? No, waiting would be better, if the other boy is already angry when he's told then at least his mood can only improve after, right? Stalling isn't very manly though even if-
“The fuck's got you thinkin’ so hard?” Bakugou asks, or really it just sounds like a statement.
“Oh,” Kirishima starts dumbly, “it's nothing,” He smiles at his friend. He really hopes it's believable.
It isn't. Bakugou scoffs, “Yeah, right. I've seen you think about nothing and that's not what it looks like,” His eyebrows knit together as he looks Kirishima over. Kirishima grips his hands together, fighting the urge to rub his bro's brow again. “You doubting yourself again or something?” The blonde asks quietly.
Kirishima has to fight the urge to hug him. He's so caring and manly. He lets a fond smile replace the fake one. “Aw, Bakugou, are you worried about me?”
“Fuck off. As if I care. You look pained as fuck the few times you ever actually use your fuckin’ brain, and I don't need you dying of an aneurysm in my room and cause a shit ton of problems for me later.”
Kirishima hums, “Sounds like you care to me,” he challenges.
Bakugou narrows his gaze. “I know what you're trying to do. Is it your fucking internship? You don't need to-,” he huffs and looks away from Kirishima, “You can talk to me about if you need to, I don't give a shit.”
Damn, it's hard to not give Bakugou what he wants when he's trying so hard to get it. Kirishima gives in. “It isn't about the internship. It's actually… It's pretty dumb,” Kirishima sighs. Why is this so hard?
“Just spit it out already.”
“You're gonna laugh.”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe not externally.”
“If you don't get on with it, I swear to fucking-.”
“Alright, alright,” Kirishima mutters running a hand through his hair. He sighs for what seems like the millionth fucking time and says, “I was thinking about confessing, I guess.”
“Confessing?” Bakugou asks, genuinely confused. “What, like, a crime or something?”
Kirishima can't stop the chuckle that bubbles out of him, God, he wants to kiss that stupid, beautiful face. “What? No, like, feelings- ,” Kirishima gestures with his hands, “-for someone?” He says, hoping that gets the point across.
Bakugou looks at him incredulously, “and? Are you afraid of rejection or some shit? Doesn't that go against your manly mentality bullshit.”
“I just don't wanna ruin our friendship,” Kirishima looks away from Bakugou trying to hide the blush on his face. “And it's not bullshit,” he mutters.
“Is it that pink chick?” Bakugou asks, after a moment.
“What? No! Oh my god, Bakugou, dude,” now it's Kirishima's turn to be incredulous. “I'm, like, incredibly gay, bro. I thought it was super obvious.”
Bakugou looks like he's about to argue, but then something clicks for him. He gives Kirishima another pointed look and Kirishima feels like he's finally been found out. He doesn't miss how pink Bakugou's cheeks are when the other boy looks away from him. “You should just tell him already,” Bakugou mumbles. “I seriously fucking doubt they'd turn you down.”
Wait, w hat ?
Kirishima feels his heart doing double time in his chest. He seriously hopes he's not reading the situation wrong when wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and tentatively brushes his fingertips against Bakugou's knee to get his attention, “Bakugou,” he says softy, encouraging the other to look at him. When he does, Kirishima asks, “Do you wanna go out with me? Like, on a date?”
“Fucking obviously,” Bakugou says. “But we already do that kind of shit, don't we?” Bakugou leans forward into Kirishima's space. “Why don't we try something new? You can start by calling me by my first name.”
“Katsuki,” Kirishima tries, smiling like an idiot. “You can call me Eijirou.”
Katsuki hums in response, “Eijirou…” He says and Kirishima wants to die. Actually he isn't sure he hasn't died. Katsuki speaks again before he decides. “There's something else I wanted to try…” he trails off with a smirk, his eyes fall on Eijirou's mouth.
Eijirou's brain short circuits. His body moves on autopilot as he leans in closer to Katsuki. He watches the other closely for any signs that he should stop. When feels Katsuki's breath tickle his face he stops looking in favor of closing his eyes and leaning the rest of the way in. The other boy tastes sweet and spicy, it's Eijirou's new favorite thing.
Katsuki's hand comes up as he kisses Eijirou back. He cups Eijirou's cheek and runs his thumb over his cheek. Eijirou leans into it, giving them a better angle.
They kiss four, five, six times before pulling apart.
“Anything else?” Eijirou asks, breathlessly. He slips his fingers between the hand still in Katsuki's lap and drags his thumb across his knuckles.
Katsuki's trails his other hand down to Eijirou's shoulder and fists in his shirt. “Yeah, tons,” he mumbles and pulls the redhead in for another kiss.
Eijirou kisses back without hesitation.
Whatever else he needed to say can definitely be discussed with his boyfriend later, when his brain figures out how to function properly again.