Bakugou didn’t know why the fuck he’d agreed to this. He wasn’t a patient person and got easily frustrated when people couldn’t keep up with him. Which was why he had no clue as to why he’d agreed to tutor that Shitty-Hair-For-Brains, or Kirishima as he kept insisting he was called. It didn’t make a difference, not when the guy was scraping the bottom of the academic barrel and had no hope in hell of passing the next test unless Bakugou helped him.
“Bakugou man, this table’s free!” Kirishima called from up ahead, throwing his school bag down to claim the table.
“Shut the fuck up!” Bakugou yelled, stomping over and cuffing him over the head. “We’re in a fucking library!”
Kirishima’s brow pinched in confusion. “Bro, you’re being way louder than me.”
As true as that was, it didn’t make Bakugou any happier. He scoffed under his breath, dropping into a chair and pulling out his books. At his impatient look, Kirishima quickly did the same.
“Alright,” he snapped, “Where you are stuck?”
Kirishima sheepishly pointed at the top of his page and...Oh great, right at the fucking start. It was going to be a long couple of days.
“Hey Bakugou, hey, hey!”
Bakugou tucked his chin in closer to his neck and very much ignored the yells coming from behind him. He was gonna catch his fucking bus and get the fuck home because he had zero intention of being lumped with these losers on a Friday afternoon. But despite his clear body language, the slapping of footsteps grew closer. And then Kirishima crashed into him.
The words all garbled together as Bakugou tried to keep his balance, shoving Kirishima off with a scowl for good measure. A hand then curled around his wrist and he was gone, setting off an explosion that wasn’t meant to harm but was sure as hell meant as a warning. To his utter dismay, when the smoke cleared, Kirishima was still grinning at him.
“Hardening, remember?” he teased.
Bakugou shook his arm free, sourly rubbing at the tendons. “Fuck off.”
“Hey, whoa, whoa!” Kirishima cried, cutting in front of him, though Bakugou was surprised to see his eyes were now apologetic. He made a loose gesture at the wrist Bakugou still had tucked to his chest. “Sorry. I...I guess I never really asked how your quirk works. Sorry if me grabbing it hurt or something.”
“It doesn’t hurt!” Bakugou shouted, offended. “Just don’t fucking touch me Shark Week!”
“Shark Week,” Kirishima repeated in awe, eyes sparkling. He then held up his hands when Bakugou tried to move. “Sorry, but seriously Bakugou, I just wanted to let you know I passed the test. I mean, I didn’t smash it or anything,” he admitted with a nervous laugh, “But I at least passed. And I owe it all to you!”
Bakugou folded his arms tightly. “And?”
“That means I have to repay you!” Kirishima finished grandly. “Like, treat you something as a thanks, you know? So...are you free now?”
Bakugou blinked twice. “Wh-...No! I’m not fucking free and even if I was I wouldn’t fucking go out with you and you aren’t buying me shit! I have my own money you dickwad.”
Kirishima, however, was unswayed. “Nah uh, we’re doing something. I don’t care what. You want a drink, fine. You want dinner, cool. Movies or arcade, whatever man. Come on, let me do this for you.”
“Are you gonna stop bothering me if I say yes?” Bakugou asked slowly.
It was an opening and Kirishima launched for it. “Absolutely promise.” He grinned wide, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So...where are we going?”
It took a long, long moment before Bakugou decided he would probably be better off just getting this over with. “Arcade,” he spat, spinning on his heel and marching in the direction of the one he liked. “One hour! That’s it, fucking got that?”
Kirishima didn’t know much about Bakugou, the guy was a tough nut to crack and had so many walls that getting information out of him was like scaling a fortress. What Kirishima did know was that Bakugou was always in the dorm kitchen at exactly seven-fifteen every morning. So when he didn’t turn up that day, not even by seven-fifty, Kirishima jogged back up to their floor. His knuckles rapped against the door, though in all honesty it was probably empty. Consequently, he jumped when an answer came from inside.
“Fuck off,” came the slur.
Frowning, Kirishima tried the door, surprised when it opened. He poked his head through, finding the curtains still drawn and no sign of life from within the room. He took a couple more steps, on alert just to be safe. “Bakugou?”
“Shut the fuck up!”
That was definitely a hiss, Kirishima reaching the side of the bed only to find Bakugou lying face down, pillow clamped over his head. His skin was covered with a sheen of sweat and, from what little Kirishima could see, he looked to be in pain. “Hey, you okay br-”
“Stop. Fucking. Talking. And get out.”
The words were said through gritted teeth, Bakugou’s hands tightening down on the pillow. He honestly did sound pained and Kirishima didn’t want to worsen whatever he had by talking but he also didn’t know what was wrong and if he didn’t, he couldn’t-...Wait, Midoriya! He and Bakugou were childhood...somethings. He might be able to help!
Dashing down to the common room, Kirishima managed to catch Midoriya just as he was about to step out the door with Todoroki and Iida. Midoriya jumped a little as Kirishima clapped him on the shoulder but one look at his face had the other boy waving his friends on, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “Kirishima? Is everything okay?”
Kirishima twisted his hands together. “Um...how much do you know about Bakugou?”
“Kacchan?” Midoriya repeated in surprise. An odd look crossed his face before he shook it away. “I know pretty much everything about Kacchan.” Interesting. “Why?”
“...’cause he’s in his room and won’t come out?”
“Pillow over his head?”
“I-...yeah, actually. How’d you know?”
Midoriya winced, gesturing for Kirishima to follow him as he made for the lifts. “Kacchan’s prone to migraines. The doctors think it has something to do with the sounds from his explosions. He gets one every couple of months; they’re quite bad.”
Kirishima paled. “Should I get Recovery Girl or something?”
Midoriya blinked at him in surprise. “You’re...Kacchan’s friend?” He then smiled. “No, he’d only be angry at you.” Pushing open Bakugou’s door, Kirishima watched in awe as Midoriya walked around the room as if it was his own. Kirishima could only assume that it had been set up much like the one at Bakugou’s home, though when Midoriya had ever been there was a mystery to him. Midoriya grabbed the spare blanket from the wardrobe, throwing it over the curtains to further darken the room. He closed the window to block external noises and then turned on the small fan on Bakugou’s desk, finding the quietest setting. Ducking into the bathroom, he returned with what Kirishima could only assume was pain medication and a glass of water.
“Kacchan?” he whisper-called as he set both items down on the bedside table.
Bakugou groaned. “Deku, I swear to fucking god-”
“Pain meds and water are on the table,” he cut in, Kirishima finding that incredibly brave. “And if you get worse, text Kirishima.”
He whispered something else, too quiet for Kirishima to hear but it got a rather dramatic response. Bakugou flung an arm out, palm crackling menacingly “Deku! Fucking get outta my-”
“Going!” Midoriya yelped, snagging Kirishima and dragging him out in the hall, carefully shutting the door behind them. “It’s alright if Kacchan texts you, isn’t it?”
Kirishima slung an arm around his shoulders, biting back a smile as Midoriya flushed. “Of course Midoriya. And we better run or we’re gonna be late!”
Midoriya glanced at the time, eyes widening as he took off and-...wait, did he just swear?! Well, spend years around Bakugou, it was probably inevitable.
To Kirishima’s great shock, Bakugou actually did end up texting him. It was during their last class and was nothing more than a barked order for food - ‘something plain’ was the description though in far more colourful words - but Kirishima still thought it was an achievement.
As he was leaving the classroom, Midoriya passed him what he explained to be a full set of class notes. Midoriya then gave a shrug and a tiny wave before slipping over to where Uraraka was, stammering one thing or another. Slipping the notes into his bag, Kirishima detoured to a convenience store before heading up to Bakugou’s room. Bakugou was exactly where Kirishima had left him nine hours earlier, although the glass of water was empty and some of the painkillers were missing. “Alright Blasty?”
Bakugou flipped him off, though he did remove the pillow from his head. “Lower your fucking volume Hair-For-Brains.”
Kirishima scratched his cheek awkwardly as he plopped to the floor. The next time he spoke, it was much quieter, like the voice Midoriya had used that morning. “I got you food,” he offered.
“Dude, you asked for it,” Kirishima said incredulously.
Bakugou opened one eye to glare at him. “I was hungry then. Not now.”
“You have to eat.” He was met with a scowl but Kirishima was undeterred, rustling through his bag. “I have...uh, lemme see...there’s onigiri, chips...I picked up an apple. There’s also soda-”
“Just pass the chips.”
“Sure,” Kirishima beamed, handing them over and preparing to leave. He paused though when Bakugou made an aborted noise. He turned back around with a coy smile. “Huh, what’s that? You want me to stay?”
Bakugou grumbled, eyes closing again and burrowing into his pillow. “Just...remind me what fucking subjects we had today.”
Kirishima frowned. “Bro, you can’t be trying to study, right? You can’t even keep your eyes open!”
“Lower voice fuckwit!”
“Alright, alright,” he frantically whispered. “But dude, really?”
Bakugou grit his teeth. “Just tell me.”
“No.” Bakugou forced his eyes open but Kirishima held up a hand, settling in next to Bakugou’s bed and retrieving Midoriya’s notes. “But I will read the class notes for you, deal?”
Nodding decisively, Kirishima flipped to the first page and god above, did Midoriya have to be so meticulous? No wonder he was in the top of the class! The guy was like a textbook author. Shaking the thoughts aside, Kirishima started to read, voice never going any higher than a whisper. He bit back a yelp when a few minutes later a hand clamped down on his wrist.
“Is this fucking Deku’s notebook?”
“Nope, but it’s the notes he made for you,” Kirishima chimed back pleasantly. Bakugou was already firing up, the redhead gently rapping him on the head with the notes, Bakugou blinking in surprise. “Look, it’s his notes or mine. Take your pick Bakugou.”
Muttering and cursing, Bakugou disappeared under his pillow once more; dork. “Fine.”
Proud with that decision, Kirishima continued his reading, finding he understood the lessons a lot easier by the end too. Declaring himself done, Bakugou was immediate with a demand of ‘quiz me’. Kirishima thought it rather unfair that ten minutes later Bakugou - migraine plagued Bakugou - was able to perfectly answer every question he was given, even the ridiculously obscure ones. Stupid Bakugou and his stupid perfectness.
Two days later Kirishima found a packet of chips tossed at his head right before class. He didn’t need to turn around to know who’d thrown it.
“Don’t you even fucking dare,” Bakugou growled as he felt his door being pushed open.
“Dude, no way!” Kirishima breathed, completely ignoring him and padding into his dorm room. “I knew I heard Mario Kart! Shit Blasty, you play?”
“Of course I play,” he snapped, pausing the race and turning to Kirishima with his arms folded. “Now what the fuck are you doing here?”
Kirishima flapped a notebook airily. “Well, I was gonna ask for some help with this history essay but if you’re playing Mario…” he plopped himself down, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “I’m in!”
Bakugou ripped the controller out of his hands. “No, you’re not. Fuck off.”
He was met with silence and Kirishima’s face almost looked hurt for a second; not that he cared. Definitely didn’t care at all. Then Kirishima was placing a hand on his arm, making him want to rip it away. “Hey Bakugou, enough.” What? “We’re friends whether you like it or not and,” Kirishima added with a grin, taking the controller back. “I was the best at this in middle school. Were you?”
There was a challenging tone there, Bakugou flaring up. “Of course I fucking was! You think some shitty middle schoolers are gonna beat me in this fucking toddler aged game?!” He rummaged around until he found his second controller, plugging it on to charge and then returning to his spot. “But, Hair-For-Brains, we’re not playing until your essay’s done.”
“Bakugou…!” Kirishima whined.
He promptly smacked his “friend” over the head. “Oi! I didn’t whip this out until I was done so fair’s fair!”
Kirishima eyed him up before shaking his head. “Nope! You gotta beat me first. Then we’ll go over the essay, man.”
“What’s this fucking ‘we’ stuff?” Bakugou mocked though he waved for Kirishima to pick a track. It would only take him a couple of minutes to completely obliterate him anyway. He then took it back when Kirishima made his choice. “Shell Cup?!” he yelled. “Why the fuck would you choose something so-”
“Bakugou, press A.”
Eyes flying back to the screen, Bakugou cursed when he realised the race was just about to start and he hadn’t even so much as picked up his controller. Lunging for it, he managed to start how he wanted, though it wasn’t without Kirishima laughing loudly from beside him. Five minutes later and Bakugou was sitting there open-mouthed in disbelief as Kirishima finished the round in first. The word “rematch” was out of his mouth before he’d even had time to think, scrolling through to find the Lightning Cup and selecting it without giving Kirishima a choice. The redhead was still laughing as they started off again, whining when he got green-shelled each race. Bakugou grinned, zipping past him and claiming first.
“Best of three?” Kirishima asked excitedly when Bakugou took the victory.
Bakugou sent him a flat look. “No, I won. Time to do your fucking schoolwork you drop out.”
“You haven’t beaten me,” Kirishima pointed out slyly. “It’s a tie,” he sang. “So...come on. All or nothing.”
Deciding it really wasn’t his business if Kirishima passed or not, Bakugou nodded, smirking when he was met with panicked cries upon picking the Special Cup. The next several minutes were full of screaming and swearing and definitely some underhanded tactics that tended to involve hitting the other person but it was Bakugou left fuming when Kirishima placed higher than him. All thoughts of study flew aside and there was only revenge.
In the end they must have done every cup twice over, their voices hoarse and various belongings of Bakugou’s smoking as he exploded things in anger. Kirishima had paused once, laughing at something on his phone which turned out to be a text from Kaminari asking him if he was being murdered. Bakugou had scowled but Kirishima had bumped his shoulder lightly, teasingly.
Eventually though Iida was hammering on the door, voice loud as he asked them to quieten down as other students were preparing for bed. Bakugou yelled back some sort of insult only to falter when he saw Kirishima turning the console off. “Oi, you…”
Kirishima smiled bright and wide, eyes crinkling shut. “We’ll have a tournament over the weekend, okay? But let’s stop for now. If I play any longer, I’m gonna be too hyped to sleep.”
Bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms tightly and watching Kirishima collect his things. When Kirishima looked over at him though, his eyes widened slightly, making Bakugou tense.
“Don’t look like that,” he murmured and Bakugou frowned back because look like what? “We’ll pick this up another time, I promise.”
“I don’t want a fucking promise, what the hell?!” Bakugou yelled. “I’ll be glad to have my fucking room to myself you shitty shark toothed fuckface!”
Kirishima laughed loudly before adopting a sheepish expression. “That’s the spirit! And uh, I might need to pop round tomorrow anyway because, I…” he held up his notebook, his very reason for coming over in the first place.
Bakugou groaned, shoving Kirishima towards the door with a foot. “Do it your fucking self and get out!”
Poking his tongue out, Kirishima ducked out the door, holding it open long enough to call out a, “Thanks for the Mario Katsuki!” before dashing down to his own room. Bakugou stood there, staring at the wood blankly. The fuck?
“Okay, got that. Uh...six, I can...number eight?”
“What? How did...oh yeah, I see. Oops. How about nine?”
“Katsuki, number nine?”
Still not receiving an answer, Kirishima lifted his nose out of his homework, glancing over to the bed. His voice died out when he saw Bakugou had fallen asleep, head tucked into the crook of his elbow and his own answer sheet resting under his hand. Shifting onto his knees, Kirishima couldn’t stop a fond smile forming on his face. It wasn’t all that late but he knew Bakugou had been having trouble sleeping lately; he’d been iffy since being kidnapped by the League of Villains, even worse after Kirishima had been hospitalised in the Yakuza skirmish. But, if nothing else, at least the blond looked peaceful while he slept. The creases between his eyebrows finally eased up and his mouth wasn’t permanently turned down in that godawful scowl. Whatever problems he had falling asleep, obviously didn’t bother him while asleep.
“Rest up,” Kirishima murmured, grabbing the covers from where Bakugou had thrown them down earlier so he had something comfier to study on and tossing them over his sleeping friend. Kirishima carefully manoeuvered the homework out from under Bakugou’s hand and placed it with the rest of his school work on the desk. “See ya in the morning Blasty.”
The mumble came from behind him, Kirishima turning around just in time to see Bakugou’s face scrunch up.
“No,” he repeated, more firmly this time, eyes still shut. “Don’t, I...All Might…”
Hissing at how pained those last words were, Kirishima tentatively approached the bed and lay a hand on Bakugou’s back. “Katsuki, hey Katsuki. You’re alright.”
Bakugou made a tiny noise of discomfort but thankfully seemed to slip back into a deeper sleep. Maybe he hadn’t been sleeping as well as Kirishima had thought. And it’s not like Bakugou would bring up something like nightmares of his own volition. Well, “nightmares” was probably Kirishima jumping to conclusions but still…
Making an executive decision, the redhead jogged back to his own room, collected his bed things, and then dragged them to Bakugou’s room. Tossing them down, Kirishima made a comfortable spot for himself on the floor before flicking off the light. He wasn’t going to lie, having another person’s breathing in the room wasn’t as weird as he’d thought it would be; no, it was more soothing than anything else. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone, kept the shadows away, the dark thoughts too. Bakugou could protect him. And in turn, he would protect Bakugou.
Kirishima wasn’t sure what woke him up - the panicked shout or Bakugou letting off an explosion that he quickly tried to muffle. Kirishima was up like a rocket but, unfortunately, that only made things worse. Because Bakugou didn’t know who he was, why he was there. In hindsight, Kirishima realised how stupid his decision had been. Bakugou had no idea who was in his room and clearly wasn’t in the right mind to tell friend from foe.
“Bakugou, don’t!” Kirishima yelped right as another explosion came, only this one was specifically aimed at him. He hardened his arms just in time but it wasn’t enough to stop Bakugou tackling him to the ground.
“Shut up! Don’t tell me what to do you useless-”
“Bakugou!” Kirishima insisted, trying to get through to him, get through the panic. “Come on man, it’s me.”
“I said shut up!” Bakugou’s voice was all but deafening. “I’m gonna send you flying!”
Kirishima swore when he realised just how serious he was, hastily snapping his hands out and curling them around Bakugou’s wrists, forcing his palms together. Bakugou twisted and growled, knowing that an attack now would only injure himself and so trying that little bit harder to get free. Shit, this was getting out of hand. Kirishima knew he had to bring Bakugou back to himself but how? What could he do to convince Bakugou he was someone close to him and not a villain?
A thought suddenly hit him, Kirishima sucking in a harsh breath. “Kacchan…” Bakugou paused, Kirishima gaining confidence and repeating himself more firmly, louder. “Kacchan. Kacchan, Blasty, come on. You know me, Katsuki.”
“Oh thank fuck,” Kirishima sighed, loosening his grip and letting his head flop back onto the pillow behind him. “You scared me, man.”
Bakugou, however, was starting to look less and less impressed, balling his shaking hands into fists. “What the hell are you doing in my room?!”
“I, uh...I just fell asleep while we were studying?” Kirishima tried.
Bakugou slammed a hand down next to his head, palm smoking. “This is your shitty bedding you fuckwit. You fucking invited yourself over! Are we having some sort of sleep over like twelve-year-olds or-”
“Bakugou! Am I hearing correctly that Kirishima is currently in your dorm room? As class president, I-”
“Fuck off Four-Eyes!” Bakugou yelled, hammering the floor and scowling down as if his anger could travel into the room below.
“Alright, Katsuki, chill!” Kirishima said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I...I just sleep better with...company.”
It wasn’t a lie per se but Kirishima thought it did the trick, especially when Bakugou shifted back a little, eyes very determinedly staring at the window. “You...get them too?”
Kirishima smiled sadly when he glimpsed Bakugou sneaking a look his way. “Yeah.”
Bakugou swallowed thickly, pushing himself to his feet and throwing himself back onto his bed. “Then...I guess you can be a fucking weirdo.”
Kirishima gave a fist pump, knowing that meant he was allowed to stay. He mimed zipping his mouth shut when Bakugou turned his way. “I won’t tell a soul. Not even Kaminari.”
Bakugou mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “who the fuck is Kaminari?” but Kirishima ignored him, preferring to snuggle up in his blankets and let his eyes slide shut once more. “Good night Katsuki!”
At this point Bakugou had forgotten what subject he and Kirishima were doing. Bakugou had plowed through the worksheet and read the designated chapter before flumping down on his back in the sun. Kirishima had continued trudging through the work, Bakugou answering the odd question here and there as his eyes drifted closed. He was in that dozing state, too lazy to get up - a true sign that it was summer. No other season was capable of making him so lethargic.
Bakugou gave a grunt, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Katsuki,” Kirishima whined, petulant sounding.
He groaned, rolling away from the redhead. “If it’s fucking visual, leave me alone.”
“Um...it’s kinda not,” Kirishima said almost sheepishly.
“Then fucking shut up.”
“What?!” he yelled, very much awake now and glaring at his friend. “What the fuck kind of question is it?”
Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “Personal? Explain.”
Kirishima shrugged. “I just...friends know stuff about each other, don’t they?”
“Did I fucking say we were friends?”
“Did you ever say we weren’t friends?” Kirishima challenged.
That was a good point, Bakugou had to grudgingly agree. He hesitated before bringing his knees up and resting his chin on them. “You usually just ask Shitty-Hair so what’s got you so uptight?”
He better not know. He’d fucking kill Deku if Kirishima knew. A hand unconsciously made a twitch towards his ears but he forced the urge down.
Kirishima was eyeing him up. “Dude, what do you think I’m gonna ask? You look terrified.”
“I do not!” Bakugou snapped, offended.
“You know it’s cool,” Kirishima said, offering him a small smile. “Whatever it is, it’s cool.”
Bakugou snarled. “You had the question, not me.”
Kirishima held his hands up in defeat, though it wasn’t without a disappointed look. “Yeah, sure, I guess. I…” his eyes met Bakugou’s for one second before sliding away. “Are you...I mean...you’re gay, right?”
Bakugou’s eyes widened, spluttering a little. “What the fuck? What kind of fucking question is that Shark Week?”
He didn’t back down though. “Well, are you?”
Bakugou folded his arms, legs falling into a basket. “And if I am?”
“Then...I’d probably do this.”
The next thing Bakugou knew, a pair of lips were pressing against his. A surprised sound got caught in the back of his throat, only escaping when the barest scrape of teeth against his bottom lip made him gasp. Then Kirishima was pulling away, eyes softer than Bakugou had ever seen. He cleared his throat awkwardly before getting to his feet.
“Um, so...just consider it, okay Blasty?”
Bakugou was abruptly left staring at an empty space with a brain that was overloading with the thoughts. Mainly, what the fuck?
Bakugou all but flew up to the fourth floor, several other students ducking out of the way and demanding to know where he was going. He paid them no attention - not much different from normal really - and only came to halt at Kirishima’s door. Shouji, drawn by the general ruckus, poked his head out but one look at Bakugou told him it would be a very good idea to keep clear of whatever was about to happen. Quite intelligently, the other student decided to head downstairs.
“Oi fuckface, open up!” Bakugou demanded, hammering on the wood.
“It’s unlocked,” came the mumble from inside.
Pushing the door open, Bakugou found Kirishima sitting on his bed in the middle of bicep curls. His smile was supposed to be as easy as always but there was something a little bit shaky about it. Bakugou stuffed his hands in his pockets, awkwardly standing at the edge of the bed. He waited a minute before taking the weights off Kirishima, finding the mindless reps distracting.
“Hey, come on man,” Kirishima pouted, reaching out to grab them only to have Bakugou slap his hands away.
He came to stand between Kirishima’s legs, the redhead blushing and swallowing. “You know…” Bakugou started. “Running isn’t fucking manly. You don’t do shit like that, got it?”
Kirishima met his gaze hopefully. “Then pretend I didn’t run. Pretend we’re still there.” He hooked a foot behind Bakugou’s legs, pulling him in. “What would you do?”
Bakugou abruptly pushed him back flat on the bed, crawling over him. “I’d return the favour...but do a fucking better job.”
Kirishima had to bite back a whimper as Bakugou pressed their lips together. Well, perhaps “press” was the wrong word. He all but slammed into him, Kirishima sure his lips would be bruised tomorrow but he didn’t care at all because Bakugou was kissing him. Bakugou was here, in his room, returning his feelings. It was only natural that that fact took all of his attention, Kirishima pulling Bakugou closer and curling a hand around his waist.
Bakugou growled, fisting a hand in Kirishima’s hair before prying his mouth open. The first brush of tongues was exquisite, the first sting from those sharp teeth exhilarating. He could map out Kirishima’s mouth for hours if the stupid Hair-For-Brains would let him. But for now, Bakugou was content to pull away and leave one last, sharp bite on the juncture of Kirishima’s neck and shoulder, earning him a full body shudder.
“Good enough for you, Kirishima?” he asked, expression cocky.
Kirishima froze before scrambling for him. “Call me that again,” he demanded, voice rough.
“What? Kirishima?” Bakugou repeated incredulously. “Why?”
“It sounds hot when you say it.”
Bakugou very much did not blush at that, instead just scoffing and moving back to sit on his haunches, legs either side of Kirishima’s waist. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”
“Yeah, but you like it.” The words were accompanied by a wink, Bakugou punching his chest, making the other boy laugh. Kirishima then tentatively reached a hand out, running it over the shell of Bakugou’s ear. “And I think you have something going on here...But I like it.”
Bakugou, who had been tensing, found himself floundering, only managing to save face by kissing Kirishima again. After all, it looked as though he had something new to study and Bakugou was a very thorough student.