Chapter Text
“Bakugou, wake up!”
“Goddammit Kirishima I will blow your head from your shoulders if you don’t stop shaking me right this second.” Bakugou felt Kirishima’s hands leave his shoulders, but the boy continued to pester and whine until Bakugou finally sat up. Grumbling, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and focused his attention on Kirishima. “How the hell did you get into my room?”
“That’s not important right now, Blasty!” Kirishima, who was still in his Red Riot pajamas, bounced excitedly on the edge of Bakugou’s bed. “Look, look, LOOK!”
Moving with the eagerness of a child, Kirishima ran to Bakugou’s window and pulled open the curtains, exposing Bakugou to the pale morning light. There, piled a few inches high on his window sill, was white, fluffy snow. Kirishima looked back and forth between Bakugou and the snow, waiting for him to react.
“You do realize the forecast called for snow today, right? Why are you so excited?” Bakugou grouched. Kirishima placed his hand over his chest and gasped loudly.
“Because it is the first snowfall of the year! This snow is special!”
Bakugou blinked. “I’m going back to sleep. Get the fuck out.”
“Bakugouuuuu,” Kirishima whined. “Let’s go outside.”
Kirishima pulled at the comforter and a short tug-of-war battle ensued. Kirishima lost, of course, but even as Bakugou hid himself beneath soft sheets, Kirishima refused to leave. He poked and begged until Bakugou threw off the covers in frustrated resignation.
“FUCK, FINE,” Bakugou yelled. “Just shut up already!”
Kirishima’s pout turned into a blinding smile. He pumped his fist in the air and ran out of the room, shouting at Bakugou to meet him in the common room in five minutes. Once Kirishima had disappeared, Bakugou moved to lay down again, but Kirishima popped his head through the door threateningly.
Bakugou got up.
Ten minutes later, Kirishima had dragged him to one of the training fields. Fresh, untouched snow crunched beneath their boots. It was still early so none of the students had gotten up yet, let alone stepped outside. Bakugou’s stomach grumbled, lamenting the breakfast that he didn't eat. He flexed his hands in their constricting gloves. Why had he allowed himself to be dragged into another one of Kirishima’s whims?
“Wow! It snowed a lot! Look how deep it is!” Kirishima pointed to his foot that was buried in the snow. Half of his boot was covered in the white fluff. Kirishima bent to scoop some into his mittens. He pouted when the snow wouldn’t stick together. “Aww, there goes my snowman idea.”
“Sucks. Can we fucking go back inside now?” Bakugou drawled.
“No way!” Kirishima looked around the field desperately. “There has to be something we can do. I’m not wasting all this snow!”
Bakugou rolled his eyes and pulled his scarf up to cover his nose.
“I got it! Let’s make snow angels!” Kirishima exclaimed.
“What kind of cheesy shit are you spouting? That’s a fucking lame-ass idea.” There was no way Bakugou was going to roll around in the snow like a toddler. He was cold enough, thank you very much. Kirishima ignored Bakugou and walked further onto the field. He held out his hands and made a frame with his fingers, as if he were scoping for a perfect spot to lay down.
Bakugou watched from a distance as Kirishima flopped backwards into the snow. The light substance poofed around him delicately. Kirishima laughed and began to move his legs and arms.
“C’mon, Blasty!” Kirishima called.
“There is no way I’m doing that bullshit.”
“At least help me up?” Kirishima begged. “I don’t want to ruin the design.”
“Fucking fine. You are so useless.” Bakugou stomped over to where the Kirishima lay. He really should have prepared himself.
Kirishima lay with his arms and legs open like a starfish. It would be ridiculous if it was anyone else, but Kirishima was different. He was so relaxed that he looked almost comfortable. His eyes were closed and a small, content smile tugged at his lips. Tiny snowflakes had somehow ended up stuck to crimson eyelashes, and Kirishima’s hair, unstyled because of the hat he wore, draped softly around his face. Snowflakes were stuck there too, flecks of white among red. As he breathed, soft puffs of air misted around his face. Bakugou watched each breath appear and disappear. The snow angel Kirishima had created was sloppy, which didn’t surprise Bakugou in the least. One wing was higher than the other, and the bottom of the skirt was uneven and choppy. But it was also distinctly Kirishima, it had his character etched in its contours.
Bakugou swallowed. Snow angels were fucking stupid. Angels were fucking stupid. And snow, snow was definitely stupid. But seeing Kirishima happily framed by his angelic snow creating, Bakugou couldn’t help but find the whole scene endearing. Kirishima was the kindest person Bakugou knew. He was friendly and optimistic and caring, almost to a fault. Kirishima was the closest thing to an angel that Bakugou had ever encountered. The imprint in the snow was nothing in comparison.
“What are you thinking?” Kirishima whispered.
Bakugou hadn’t realized that he had zoned out, and he immediately glared to hide whatever expression was on his face.
“I was thinking about how dumb you look,” he barked.
Kirishima’s eyes gleamed, “Liar.”
Bakugou said nothing, he merely stretched out a hand in offering. Kirishima took it gently. He made to stand up, but once he was crouched, Kirishima’s grip tightened. The next thing Bakugou knew, he was on his back, the cold touch of snow seeping into his hair.
“You motherfucker. You did NOT just do that.”
Kirishima pounced on top of him and grabbed Bakugou’s wrists.
“Ok step one done! Now you just move your arms like this―”
Bakugou wrenched his arm from Kirishima’s grip and proceeded to shove a fistful of snow into the redhead’s face.
“Damn mittens have no grip,” Kirishima mumbled bitterly. Bakugou flipped them easily. Kirishima huffed as he was pinned, face-first, into the snow. Bakugou leaned down so his mouth was next to Kirishima’s wool-covered ear.
“You are dead,” he whispered. Kirishima shivered, and Bakugou suspected it wasn’t from the cold.
Kirishima tensed, and Bakugou struggled to pin Kirishima’s arms behind him before he got any leverage. He failed. Kirishima managed to turn onto his side and he quickly fisted his hand into Bakugou’s loosened scarf. In one quick motion, Kirishima pulled Bakugou down into a kiss.
Cold lips were made warm by mingling breath. Bakugou licked the snowflakes from Kirishima’s mouth, his cheeks, and marvelled at how they melted on his tongue. They settled into the snow, willingly now, and Bakugou ignored how some ice slipped down his neck when Kirishima moved to place his hand there. He didn’t care that his jeans were getting wet, or that his earmuffs had fallen off. All he cared about was Kirishima’s shy gasps and the warmth of his mouth. They stayed like that, frozen in time on the frozen ground, until Kirishima pulled away gently.
“Do you know what the best thing about playing in the snow is?”
“Freezing my balls off?” Bakugou said drily.
Kirishima snorted, “Close.”
Bakugou laughed and nuzzled into Kirishima’s neck.
“The best part,” Kirishima continued, “Is finding ways to warm up afterwards.” Kirishima’s hand slid down Bakugou’s side to grip his ass. “I suggest we snuggle by the fireplace.”
“There is no fireplace, dipshit.”
“Pity. Your bed will have to do then.”
“You,” said Bakugou, “are a perv.”
Kirishima smiled. “You love it.”
Bakugou replied by kissing him.
When the cold seeped through their jackets, they finally found the motivation to move. They got up and brushed the snow from their clothes and hair. After fumbling to find Bakugou’s buried earmuffs, they ran back to the dorms, propelled by the promise of warmth and the urge to touch skin to skin.
Later, when the rest of the students arrived on the field to have their share of snowy fun, they were greeted by one lopsided snow angel and its unidentifiable blob of a companion.