Chapter Text
“Oh.” Was all he said, looking up to see a male actor around Kirishima’s age blushing furiously.
Kirishima laughed sheepishly as he made his way to the centre of the circle for the second time.
“I’m a real big fan, Red Riot.” said the actor, shyly. His words stumbled in a rather cute way. “Oliver, by the way,” he said. He had messy hair and a charming, dimpled face with sparkling green eyes that matched his button-up shirt.
“Thanks, Oliver!” Kirishima smiled brightly, “I appreciate you saying that.”
Before Kirishima could say more, Oliver reached forward, carding back a piece of red hair and pressing their lips together. It took Kirishima a bit by surprise.
Oliver was a good kisser, Kirishima thought. The kiss was good and enjoyable enough, but strangely he found it lacking after his last experience with Bakugo.
Kirishima’s eyebrows drew together in concentration as he cast Bakugo in Oliver’s place.
He imagined the hands currently lacing through his hair were Bakugo's, centring him. Blood flooded his cheeks when he felt those hands tug his hair and he let out a strangled gasp.
He cracked his eyes open and pulled apart.
Kirishima mumbled some apology as he tried to gather himself, pressing the back of his hand against his shaking breath.
Oliver looked slightly shaken by the abruptness of their parting but shook it off and smiled lightly. “No worries,” he reassured, before he cleared his throat, adding “We should talk again sometime.”, and slipped him a small piece of folded paper. Kirishima looked closer to find a phone number written there, but when he looked up, surprised, Oliver only smiled and moved back to his position in the circle.
It was well into the early hours of the morning when the game came to an end, and people finally started to shuffle out of his and Bakugo’s temporary apartment. God, they’re going to have to spend ages cleaning this up, Kirishima thought as he looked around at the discarded plastic bottles, cups and spilt liquid. Kirishima’s head throbbed behind his eyes, and his body ached for the comfort of sleep. He sighed, grabbed a garbage bag and started picking up the littered plastic cups and bottles of alchohol.
He glanced up to where Bakugo spoke with Cosmo, who was the last one to leave. They laughed about something before Bakugo shook his hand and led him to the door.
Once Cosmo was out of sight, Bakugo shut the door with an anguished sigh and slid down, his mask of charismatic eagerness dropping to a face of I’m-fucking-done-with-life.
Kirishima grimaced in sympathy. “That bad huh?”
“I think if I put up with any of their shit for one more second I would fucking implode. How do you do this all the time!? Do you know how many people I smiled at!? My face feels awful, why do people do this?” Bakugo groaned.
Kirishima laughed, placing another can in the plastic bag. “Did you get the deal at least?” he asked.
Bakugo groaned again, heaving himself up from the ground and walked over to help Kirishima clean up.
“Yeah. Supply shipment of trigger coming in next week. He wants me to spread false tips to the hero and law enforcement agencies, but he won’t tell me anything big yet.” Bakugo explained, dropping an empty can into the grey bag Kirishima was holding. Their hands brushed momentarily, and it electricity shot through their pressed skin, forcing the image of their moment earlier into their minds.
Bakugo moved his hand back quickly, red creeping up his ears as he turned around to clean up another section of ground.
Kirishima cleared his throat. “That’s good. I just wish I could have been of more use.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Bakugo head snapped up from where he was gathering food crumbs from the floor, his eyebrows narrowed in frustrated disbelief.
“Are you kidding me? Perhaps you didn’t realise but without you, there would probably be a whole different social atmosphere, and we needed everything to work well to get the deal to go ahead.”
Kirishima looked somewhat skeptical so he pressed on. “You may not have realised this, but the blonde girl you were talking to earlier was his niece. You made her happy, and that made him happy,” He said bluntly. “You’re always helpful, whether you intend to be or not.”
Kirishima laughed gratefully, and they shared a few moments of silence, soaking in one another’s company as they cleaned. Kirishima glanced at the clock showing 4:25 am and groaned.
“God, it’s so late. Surely Zashitasu will let us call in sick today.” He groaned.
Bakugo snorted. “I doubt it. He probably despises anyone who can afford a break. Dude needs a vacation.”
Kirishima bent over to reach for another piece of rubbish when Oliver’s note from earlier fell from his pocket and floated to the ground, catching Bakugo’s eye.
“What’s that?”
“Hmm? What’s what?”
“That!” Bakugo pointed to the note.
“Oh. Some guy from spin-the-bottle gave me his number.”
Bakugo raised his eyebrows “What and you kept it?” he snorted “He really must have left an impression, huh?”
Kirishima thought of his kiss with Oliver. How Kirishima had conjured Bakugo in his place, hands roaming Kirishima’s body and running through his hair. Kirishima’s face flooded with bright red, and Bakugo took that as an answer.
“Huh”, he laughed incredulously, biting his tongue as he took in a breath. “Okay then.”
“What? No, it’s not like that,” Kirishima replied suddenly defensively and he didn’t know why. It’s not like Bakugo and Kirishima were together.
“If you say so.” Bakugo trying to shrug nonchalantly, but his tight mother expression gave him away.
A few tense moments passed before a thought struck a chord in Kirishima, bringing a sly smile to his face. “Why, are you jealous?” He teased.
Bakugo tensed a bit, an angry blush creeping up his neck.
“Shut up, shitty hair. You’d like that wouldn’t you” He bit back, shutting down the conversation but not entirely answering it either.
There was a moment when Bakugo was quiet, deep in thought. Kirishima knew from the deep furrow between Bakugo’s brows that he was thinking about something.
“What?” Kirishima asked with some concern.
“What are you what-ing?”
“You’re being all quiet and grouchy!”
Bakugo looked affronted. “Am not. See?!” Bakugo said, shooting him a tight-mouthed smile. “Not grouchy.”
“Bakugo...”
“Drop it, Kirishima,” Bakugo growled out warningly as he pinched the space between his eyes.
He still wouldn’t look at him.
Stinging with rejection, Kirishima stopped pushing it. It was quiet for a long time, a heavy silence pressing down on them.
They worked around each other as they cleaned the kitchen, but instead of their easy synchronicity, it felt broken and awkward.
Kirishima felt bitter and angry from the conversation, but at the same time, a ribbon of hope shone inside of him, echoing what might have been left unsaid.
Almost 20 minutes later, Kirishima finally broke.
“God, Katsuki, will you just look at me?!” he snapped, surprising even himself.
Bakugo stopped and looked up, shocked by the use of his first name. For possibly the first time since they kissed Bakugo looked him in the eyes and Kirishima swallowed hard at Bakugo’s expression.
He looked tense, vulnerable but also concerned. His brows were furrowed with worry from Kirishima’s distress, which he could tell Bakugo had no actual intention of causing.
Most of all, Bakugo looked scared. His stance was fidgety, his posture closed off, and his temple throbbing as if his anxiety was physically trying to break free.
Kirishima heart broke a bit and he went to place a comforting hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, only to think less of it in their heavy atmosphere, so he awkwardly moved it away. He cleared his throat.
“I ... er.. look, I hate this,” Kirishima admitted. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us. I ... “ He took a breath and stopped himself, debating what it would cost him to continue.
Would the richness of possibility be enough to risk the fallout? What was it that was on the line? Their roommate status? Their friendship? He looked up at Bakugo whose jaw was working nervously, and Kirishima knew if he didn’t say anything, no one would. He looked at his feet as he continued, swallowing down the anxious lump in his throat.
“I feel as though the only person I care about in that room, or any room even” he added. “... is you. I don’t give two shits about Oliver or anyone else.” he said, letting the implication lay heavy in the air.
Bakugo swallowed, but let him continue.
“You mean a lot to me and I don’t want some kiss to mess that up. I don’t want anything to mess us up." His mind was starting to work a mile a minute, his mouth only barely keeping up. "So talk to me. If you say that kiss didn’t mean anything then sure! If it did or it didn’t, it makes no difference. We care about each other. We respect each other. We should sort whatever this is out before we mess anything up, acting like three-year-olds.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugo took a step closer till they were centimetres apart, but Kirishima wouldn’t look up from his spot on the ground. Kirishima knew he was rambling now, but he couldn’t help it.
He was hopelessly all in.
“And for reference, yeah! Maybe I did feel something with that kiss. but it’s not like I’m suddenly not gonna be able to be friends with you and it doesn’t mean I’m going to feel that way forever.”
Kirishima finally lifted his eyes, which he instantly regretted when he saw the intensity of Bakugo’s gaze, stoic and undeniably handsome. From their closeness, he could see the contour of his cheekbone, the strands of brown and burning red painted across iris’ like abstract art.
“And maybe, sorry, um,” he cleared his throat, pushing his words out through his distracted state, “maybe this is something we can joke about when we’re 80, but if it's not something you want to talk about or it makes you uncomfortable, we can just never bring it up again if that’s what you’d prefer-“
“God shut up” Bakugo complained, and with an impatient breath, he laced his hands through the nape of Kirishima’s neck and drove their lips together.
It was sudden, and it was sweet.
Kirishima’s eyebrows rose as he took in a breath and raised a shaking hand to rest on Bakugo’s shoulder. His heart pounded against his chest, and it took his mind a dizzying second to catch up. When did, he sighed and pressed himself against Bakugo.
He felt dizzyingly lightheaded and in that moment the world quietened and nothing felt more right. He wrapped his arms around Bakugo and heard the loud clanging of pans being pushed aside as he was pressed up against the kitchen aisle, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.
“If I didn’t know any better,” he tested with a breathless laugh between kisses. “I would say you’d thought about this moment before today.” To which Bakugo said nothing and kissed him again firmly.
He soaked in the warmth of their kiss for a moment longer before he pulled back.
“Okay, now we really gotta talk,” Kirishima said with a laugh and Bakugo groaned. “Why have you not told me about how you felt sooner, we could have been doing this ages ago!”
“I don’t know what this is,” Bakugo admitted, as he shifted uncomfortably and gestured a hand between the two of them.
“I haven’t...” he blushed and looked away.
Kirishima placed a gentle hand against Bakugo’s neck and turned his head back to him. “I haven’t felt like this before. I haven’t wanted this before. I’m just...confused.”
Kirishima smiled gently and thumbed at Bakugo’s hairline.
“But you want it now? With me?” Kirishima whispered.
He didn't want to scare Bakugo off, but he didn't want the conversation to end either.
Bakugo seemed to freeze then. His jaw tightened and his posture stiffened.
Kirishima thought back to how scared he had felt felt when he feared the loss of their friendship. The anticipation you feel before you take the risk.
He carded his hand through Bakugo’s hair gently, and Bakugo relaxed against it. Kirishima brought his hand down to rest at his jaw, and he stroked his thumb across Bakugo’s bottom lip.
“Take a chance on me.” he whispered across parted lips
Bakugo was silent for a moment before he swallowed, his eyes settling into endearment as he brushed his lips over Kirishima’s.
“Always.”
He rested his forehead against Kirishima’s, and his lips turned up into a smile.
“Okay,” Kirishima said slowly, tracing a delicate finger across Bakugo’s shoulder blades. “So, we take it slow. We don’t need to define anything.”
Bakugo brushing back a strand of red hair.
“Who knew you could be such a softie?” Kirishima laughed, burying his head in Bakugo’s neck. It took Bakugo a second to register what he said, but he suddenly bristled, affronted.
“How fucking dare you. I am not, I’m just.... tired?” Bakugo said after a moment. Kirishima raised his head with an incredulous look, earning a shove from Bakugo. Kirishima gasped, shoving him back, his competitive edge flaring. The moments following were a tangle of flailing limbs and screeching laughter as Kirishima sprinted for cover behind the kitchen aisle.
“You bastard! You fucking scoundrel! Come the fuck back here!” Bakugo yelled after Kirishima with a grin as they ran circles around their kitchen.
The sound of Kirishima’s laugh in the late hours of the night flooded their small apartment. Kirishima supposed it didn’t matter if their apartment was fake or not - where ever they were, as long as they were together, it would always feel like home.