Bakugou tussles his hair and glares at his reflection in the foggy glass of the bathroom mirror. He’d spent the past hour training with shitty round-face just to get her to stop asking him to spar, the post practice shower cleansing him of excess sweat but not the annoyance he was left with (as if that was a mood that was out of the ordinary for Bakugou). She had definitely improved since the sports festival, though even back then she was able to hold her own against him for long time, something no one ever seemed to give her credit for. Bakugou knew the only reasons he’d won that fight came down to anticipation, his own intense desire to win, and quite frankly, luck. Today’s sparring match proved that she was as serious about being a hero as he was, not just being a silly girl who only spends her time doing whatever shit teenage girls do. Bakugou doesn’t care to find out.
A glance over at the clock tells him it’s 7:27, a few minutes from half past. He’s supposed to meet Kirishima in his dorm room to study like he does every Thursday and like hell he would ever be late. Unruly blonde hair gets one last ruffle and Bakugou exits the bathroom with a stop to his room to toss his dirty clothes into the laundry basket.
He knocks twice before Kirishima opens the door with his obnoxiously blinding smile, stupid considering it’s just Bakugou.
“Hey man! You know, you don’t have to knock every time. You’re never late, so I know it’s you. Plus your room is literally one over, I can hear you open your door.”
Kirishima snickers and moves aside to let him in. Bakugou finally actually looks at Kirishima to find him shirtless, and for whatever reason it pisses him off.
“What the hell shitty hair, put a fucking shirt on!” he yells. Kirishima has the nerve to laugh again.
“Awh, c’mon, it’s not like you haven’t seen me shirtless before!” Kirishima quips.
“Yeah, because your god awful costume leaves you practically fucking naked,” Bakugou spits, no venom in his words and the laugh he chokes back at the end of the sentence proves it. Kirishima honest to god giggles, a sweet sound that shouldn’t suit him so well but it does. Of course it does.
“Hey! It’s not my fault that my quirk rips up my clothes! And it’s relaxation hours! I can wear whatever I want!”
“The fuck you mean, relaxation hours? I’m here to help your dumb ass study.”
“Oh, um, about that. I thought maybe we could watch a movie instead? Not really feeling it tonight,” Kirishima says with a sheepish grin. He holds his arms up jokingly in defense: they both know Bakugou would never actually hurt him (intentionally anyway, Bakugou thinks. His hands were made to hurt even if it’s not what he wants). Kirishima knows his friend’s not going to walk out because there’s nothing else to do when he’d planned to spend the next few hours supposedly studying with him. He grins at him and knows Bakugou has cracked when the glare slides off of his face.
“Fucking fine. But only if you put a stupid shirt on.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Bakugou and Kirishima are sitting on the latter‘s bed, close enough that their legs are pressed tightly together, laptop rested on a leg each. They’ve never sat quite this close but they’re both using the excuse that the blanket can’t cover both of them unless they sit like this. Kirishima’s face is buried in Bakugou’s shoulder as he laughs hard enough that tears are forming in his eyes as the opening scene for High School Musical plays on the screen in front of them. Bakugou is laughing now too though and hasn’t made any effort to push him away.
“Oh my god Kirishima, you’re the fucking worst. You fucking cancelled studying on me to make me watch fucking High School Musical,” he snorts. Kirishima pulls his head back and he knows his face is red but Bakugou’s is too, the blush on both of their cheeks fading into the bright color of breathing-too-hard-from-hysterical-laughter. It takes a few minutes for the breathing to even out and the attention to turn back to the movie but neither party mind.
The Bop to the Top number ends and Kirishima quickly pauses the movie to grab snacks. He comes back a minute later with a bottle of soda and a bag of chips from the dorm kitchen and plunks back down on the bed.
“What the fuck, why’d you only get one of each?”
“Can’t we share?” Kirishima asks innocently enough, but all that’s running through Bakugou’s head is /indirect kiss/. God, he’s really being childish.
“If you really want I can go grab more or at least get another cup or something-“
“Shut up. It’s fine.”
Bakugou feels his friend’s eyes on him and knows his blush has to be visible, but if it is Kirishima doesn’t say anything. He scoots back under the blanket and nuzzles right in, and Bakugou manages to keep his mouth shut this time.
We’re All In This Together rolls around and the room is completely dark minus the glow of the screen. At some point Kirishima has tangled a leg with Bakugou’s and the blonde realizes then that somehow they’ve ended up holding hands as well, fingers loosely intertwined. He tries not to fidget at this revelation, they’re close, too close, but he stays still.
The god awful movie (objectively) finally comes to the end. Kirishima looks over goofily at Bakugou but his smile drops once he sees the closed off expression on the other boy’s face.
“Awh come on Blasty, the movie wasn’t that bad!” he pouts.
Bakugou closes his eyes in thought for the slightest second.
“It fucking sucked.”
The grin returns to the other boy’s face and he reaches out to mute the volume of the cut scene, quickly coming to see why Bakugou had seemed so bothered: their position.
“Oh shit man, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Here, let me move this-“
“Huh? I mean, if you’re sure,” Kirishima says softly.
“I’m just not used to sappy shit like this. No one’s ever been stupid enough to fucking do shit like watch shitty movies and be this close to me.”
He can’t meet his eyes and a soft pink flushes his cheeks. Surprisingly it suits him well.
“Probably because you’re an asshole,” Kirishima teases.
“You love meeeee.”
“Yeah, I fucking know.”
There’s no fucking way to play off something that sounded that sincere, but Bakugou doesn’t really want to. He’s always been blunt and it’s better to get it over with sooner than later he guesses.
Still, he turns bright red and pulls his hand back roughly from Kirishima’s, turning his head but making no effort to leave.
“Wait, seriously man? You’re not fucking with me?”
The blonde groans, snapping his head back to look him dead in the eyes with an intensity that rivals his hatred for belts.
“Like hell I’d lie about something like that. You don’t even have to respond anyway, fucking hell.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Kirishima is about as red as his hair and Bakugou hates how twisty it makes his stomach feel. He seems nervous of all things and Bakugou is gonna kill him.
“You fucking better.”
Kirishima bites his lip with a smile and winds his fingers back with Bakugou’s, surprisingly soft now that he thinks about it, the other landing gently on his cheek.
Everything about Kirishima contradicted his quirk: he was so soft, every detail about him. His hair, his skin, his kindness, right down to the way he’s looking at Bakugou right now with eyes that could melt down every harsh metal barricade he’s ever put up around his heart.
Kirishima leans in and Bakugou clenches his eyes shut, his fingers squeezing the ones they’re locked with like he never wants to let go. Kirishima’s breath fans across his lips for just an instant before lips meet his own.
It’s nothing magical, just a brief touching of skin, but nevertheless it’s a feeling Bakugou never wants to let go of. He feels Kirishima pull back to to catch his breath before leaning in again and they’re kissing, over and over and over for who knows how long. Kirishima’s moved his hands to grasp at hair and the back of Bakugou’s neck and the blonde follows suit gently and cautiously. The laptop’s screensaver shuts off leaving them in darkness and neither boy has time to notice.
“Can we be boyfriends then? I mean, it’s fine if that’s too much, really, I’m just happy to be with you.”
Kirishima can feel Bakugou’s grin tugging at his mouth.
“We fucking better.”