Chapter Text
Bakugou lies on his bed bouncing his foot in what he refuses to call nervousness.
The TV is playing, and he's looking at the screen but not really knowing what he's watching; he can't focus.
His mother called multiple times. She never fucking called him unless she wanted to rattle his brain with her shitty complaints.
Bakugou brought a hand up to fist at his hair at the front of his head; his feet that were folded over each other bounced anxiously on the soft mattress.
He sighed, loud in the solitude of his hotel room in fucking Ottawa.
Bakugou couldn't help but groan and lay back in frustration, unsure of how to shake the uneasy feeling throughout his whole body; he feels as if he's supposed to be on high alert, as if something demonic were coming for him through the door.
The dimness of the room didn't help—the only light that was on was a small lamp on the bedside table, and the warm glow had Bakugou feeling everything but.
Everything was tinted yellow, not like a summer day, but like piss.
Like interrogation.
Interrogation from a person who is miles away from him.
His phone rang from where it was currently lying on his chest, and Bakugou groaned.
Lifting it to his face, expecting it to be his mother, Bakugou was surprised when instead it was his older brother... Misha.
He blinked at his screen and wanted to throw the whole-ass phone immediately; why is it that whenever anyone in his fucking family calls him, it's just dread he feels?
Bakugou closed his eyes, praying for strength as he answered the call and put it to his ears.
" What the actual fuck is going on?" He demanded immediately, not giving his brother a greeting he didn't even fucking deserve.
" Misha, why is Mom calling me?" He questioned.
His brother sighed, his already infuriating voice just getting grainy over the phone.
" Ah, baby brother, it's New Year's for you now, yeah?"
Bakugou sat up, shuffling to the edge of the bed and sliding off of it; he stood up and paced around a little.
" Don't try to change the fucking subject, Misha. Why is the woman calling me?"
Bakugou was starting to get pissed at his brother; the man didn't care about fucking New Year's, and he's so tired of all the stalling.
He continued to pace the room, trying to get his frustration out by moving about a little.
"Are you trying to say something? Mom is fine, Katsuki."
Bakugou opened his mouth to retort but then stopped; what does that mean? "She's fine"? Bakugou never asked how the fuck the hag was doing.
His scowl deepened, and he started to contemplate what his brother's words implied...why was he insinuating Bakugou was "trying to say something"?
He shook his head and breathed in deeply; Bakugou felt as if he was being put in the sun to dry with hot rays burning his skin.
" She keeps on calling, Misha," he said, running a heavy hand over his scalp.
His brother scoffed at the other end of the line. " Katsuki, you're not that idiotic, are you?" He asked.
The blond had to lock his jaw shut and run his tongue over the back of his teeth so he didn't bite it clean off.
His veins, arteries, and capillaries were all pulsing with rage.
He didn't say anything, but his brother's voice over the phone returned; " It's because you lost a fucking game!" Misha said loudly.
The blonde could hear others laugh in the background, and his eyes went so wide with white-hot rage that he genuinely wanted to dash his phone through the window.
" What the everloving fuck do you want from me then? What are you calling me for‽" He asked loudly; he's sure his tone sounded just as angry as he felt. Bakugou can't control that with his asshole brother.
Bakugou went to brace onto the small kitchen's countertop. He looked down at his feet so he didn't need to see the dark blue evening sky that called for a phone to fly through its atmosphere.
His brother hummed through the other line. " Let me think about it..." he said, sounding as fake as he usually did.
" Let me hold onto some more money—"
Misha said, and Bakugou closed his eyes.
"-please."
The man over the phone tacked on the "please" last minute.
The blonde licked his lips and begged for strength. He groaned to his brother because he knew after this, he'd still have one more annoying person to deal with…he couldn't feg out yet.
" You think I have money to waste on you? Misha, my bonus is fucking gone! You used most of it on your shitty drugs."
He practically growled with how clenched his jaw was.
" Awe, boohoo-wah-wah, you whiny faggot."
Bakugou held the phone away from his ears after that: " Misha, go fucking walk into traffic."
He didn't wait for a response before he ended the call. His eyes burned, his heart was beating fast, and his grip on his phone was tight.
Bakugou stood there, waiting for the other call he knew was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not.
His brother pissed him off so much; he always has ever since his father died.
He looks so much like their father…the same brown hair and eyes. It made Bakugou cringe.
He almost began to spiral with heavy memories before he was interrupted with the ring of his phone.
The blond bit down on his lip and waited for the third ring before he willed himself to answer the phone.
He knew he had to sit for this call; while his brother enraged him with energy, his mother pulled him down into sludge.
He put the phone to his ear and forced his tone to settle into a respectful quiet one; if his mother was pissed and he was pissed, then surely nothing good would come.
" Hello, Mother," Bakugou started; he licked his lips again and began to tap his finger against his phone.
" Ohhh, so now the brat decides to answer!" Mitski mocked with a scoff.
Bakugou swallowed all the things he wanted to say; instead, he breathed in and out to calm his heart.
It was being so fast and so angry that he was sure he'd go into cardiac arrest.
" I'm sorr—" the blonde began before he was immediately cut off by his mother's groan, which caused him to close his eyes once more for the sake of his sanity.
" Don't, Kastsuki. Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your damn country! To Russia!"
" Losing to the Czechs was absolutely disgusting, Katsuki. Why is it that you cannot perform the way you have to!? "
Those words were so fucking rich coming from her.
He didn't want his mother of all people to tell him everything he did wrong when he put his everything into how he played.
All his anger and energy went into his sport; he isn't a monster on the ice because he fucking meditates about it..It took his energy, all his damn energy.
His every fiber went into being the best, and he is.
So he wasn't planning on being a liar when he told her, " I will beat Sweden, Mother."
His mother snorted with absolutely no humor in her tone. " Beat Sweden? Brat, you don't have a damn choice!"
Bakugou bit the insides of his cheek to keep his mouth shut.
" If you don't fucking win, Katsuki, you won't play for gold—"
" You think I don't know?" He interrupted with no regret. Katsuki was tired of this hag hammering the same things into his head, over and over on end.
He took a heavy breath in.
" I know what's at stake, Mother. We're all trying."
We're all trying.
It took Bakugou so long to understand that he isn't the only player on the ice; he's not the most important player despite how much he wants to score.
He was so proud of how easy it is to acknowledge his team now; however, Bakugou knows his mother wouldn't notice nor give a flying fuck about his shitty character development.
" Who gives a fuck about 'we,' Katsuki!" It's you. You cannot lose, not against him or anyone!"
Bakugou grits his teeth; no wonder he used to be a huge asshole, just look who his fucking mother is.
He used to sound just like her.
Bakugou breathed a deep one in and hoped for some hope. Hope that he could survive this fucking life.
Kirishima's ears were ringing off of his skull; he could hear his own fucking heartbeat, and it was hype.
He was skating fast; the sound of the ice being cut under his blades as the people in the stands shouted his name filled his gut with pride.
His team did it. He did it.
He won.
Kirishima snorted hard as a body crashed against him, almost knocking both players over.
It was Kaminari Denki—Kirishima's close friend.
With a smile bright and electric, he shouted into Kirishima's face before knocking their helmets together and absolutely shaking the fucking hell out of the redhead.
"DUDE!" Kaminari shouted with bark-like laughter trailing after.
Kirishima smiled as he shook the other, however much less rapidly and crazily.
"Dude!" He responded with not as much fervor but twice as much happiness.
The redhead was desperate for this win. He said he would hand Bakugou his ass, and he did.
Now his heart's bursting.
His teammates skated over as well, all of them crowding around Kirishima and Denki, and there was so much sweat, laughter, tears, and shoving that Kirishima's head began to spin.
But he loved it.
There was no way his team was going to lose this; they were playing on their own ice this time around, and a repeat of failure would not play out here.
He snorted again as a different team member patted his shoulders; Denki was being pulled from his grasp and dragged off by someone who then pushed him towards the stands to go kiss his wife, Kyoka, and their kids, who showed up to watch the game.
Kirishima peered at his best friend and smiled before a figure that looked familiar crossed his vision past all the bodies that crowded him.
He turned to fully look at the person skating across his line of sight over another teammate's shoulder; it was Bakugou. Once more, he skated apart from the rest of his teammates.
Kirishima looked towards his face, and it honestly shocked him how contemplative the blonde looked; his helmet was under his arm as he idly skated near the edge of the rink.
Bakugou bit down on his bottom lip, and Kirishima turned his eyes away; his gut swooped, and he wants to pretend that he doesn't know why.
When the bodies crowding him made his head start to spin in a bad way, Kirishima skated off away from his team, looking towards the stands for his mom; she was always at every one of his games, and she was his pillar some days.
The start of this game had him feeling as if he was going to unravel; playing against Bakugou again after the losses made him clammy, and looking at his mom helped a bit, just like it usually does.
The redhead wonders if Bakugou could see how much he was coming loose during this game.
Once he spotted the head of his mom, he raised his arm high to wave at her.
It was almost a win for Bakugou's team one moment, and then at one point it seemed like the match was going to run into overtime, but Kirishima managed to score one last goal just before the game ended.
Kirishima skated around the rink a bit more; occasionally he glanced to find Bakugou, but as far as he could tell, the other man was too far into his head to notice.
Once their teams were lined up to shake hands, Kirishima found that he couldn't look into the other players' eyes, similar to the first time when he didn't want to see pure happiness as he was dismayed.
It appears now the roles are reversed, and he still can't look at their faces, despite how social he pushes himself to be; some things just don't click for Kirishima.
The blonde skated up to him, and he seemed to only stop because the person in front of him did; Bakugou still didn't touch anyone on Kirishima's team during this moment, and he looked lost in his head.
Kirishima sighed; the fiery blonde was so quelled it was a bit unfortunate to witness—maybe like a bright light flickering out and dying? Was that too dramatic?
Kirishima reached out for the blonde's hand, and red eyes snapped up to match Kirishima's.
Bakugou sighed through his mouth as he reached forward for Kirishima as well and took his hand into a firm shake.
Kirishima smiled and bounced their hands up and down twice; "See you in October." He said and skated off before Bakugou could respond.
He heard the player behind him scoff as Bakugou said, "No, bitch." Probably turning down a handshake the poor guy hoped to land…
Kirishima shook his head and looked down at his own hand as it held onto someone else's in the next moment.
Their hockey sticks made a loud slap sound as they collided.
Kirishima stared through a visor at a face bathed in blue light and eyes set with a blaze deep past the pupils.
He breathed as the other did, their faces close enough together that their breaths mixed and touched each other's faces.
"Okay!" The director said with an echoing voice. "That pose looks like it to me! What do you say, camera?"
Kirishima tore his eyes from Bakugou's to look over towards the team; he couldn't hold the heavy gaze of the blonde even now.
The woman handling the large camera nodded firmly.
"Wonderful!" The man said, "Okay, listen up, boys; you're just going to hold it for me a bit. Stay right there; we're going to be ready in a moment. Thank you."
Kirishima nodded at the guy, the bright blue lights absolutely roasting his eyes out of his sockets.
A puff of air on the side of his face had him turning, and he looked just in time to see Bakugou attempting to blow a strand from his face as he adjusted his posture to rest comfortably while bending.
Bakugou brought the stick up to rest on his bent legs, and he shifted his weight onto it. He pouted a bit as the hair didn't move an inch.
Kirishima snorted at the blond as the other licked his lips to try again, and that gained his attention, it seemed.
Bakugou clicked his tongue with a nod after a few moments of just looking. "You usually look like shit." He said firmly; the blonde snorted as Kirishima's eyes widened.
"Now you look like pretty shit." The other teased and smiled, Kirishima was confused for a moment at his words.
Was that this guy's idea of a compliment, or was he actually teasing? the redhead wondered.
Kirishima rolled his eyes. "Wow. Aren't you wearing makeup too?"
Bakugou hummed, pushing his lips out and tilting his head side to side like he was weighing his response.
"Yes, but I don't look pretty."
Kirishima hasn't decided yet if he hated the way the man that was essentially his biggest rival was calling him pretty.
He wanted to call Bakugou out on it and maybe help his brain find out how he was supposed to feel, but he was interrupted by the team at their side, who were all off the ice.
The director called out for them to do that whole pose again, and Kirishima pushed the swirling in his stomach caused by that backward compliment off to the side.
As per the request of the director, the two men skated back away before coming back towards each other again and slapping their hockey sticks against the mark on the ground.
Kirishima was faster; that's not what they wanted at all, so a repeat was bound to happen, but he still felt as if he won that, and he couldn't fight the smile that ghosted his face.
"Great! Can we do that again?" The director injected.
The redhead breathed in deeply. Bakugou leaned in towards him just a bit before grunting and skating back again to repeat.
Kirishima's skin was literally twinging as he skated backwards as well.
The two of them bent forward and pushed off toward each other once more; this time Bakugou's stick met the mark before Kirishima's, and he smiled about it.
Kirishima rolled his eyes at the other, who was holding back a snicker.
The two were asked to hold for a bit as the director said they were making an adjustment to the camera—probably to enhance the photo—and instructed them to go again.
Once more Bakugou leaned forward with a sly smile before actually retreating.
It was embarrassing how much that small action made Kirishima's mind race.
It's been racing every time he thought of Bakugou, but recently it hasn't been from the same reasons as just after the tournament...in fact, after that workout session they had, every time Kirishima's mind raced thinking of Bakugou, it's been different than just the pure anxiety of his competition.
The man still doesn't know if he hates it.
They tried again, repeating the same action and attempting to do it fiercely as per request.
Bakugou seemed to be so good at this posing thing; his energy matched the director's orders amazingly. He supposed that the blonde knew a whole lot about being intense, so it may come easy to him.
Kirishima, on the other hand, can't relate that well, but he gave up holding himself back years ago; this is his new life, and he only pushes himself forward nowadays.
Another call for a repeat from a director that was pleading for their patience had them away from each other again; at the signal, the two skated towards the mark.
They skated towards each other, and Bakugou absolutely barreled at the mark; his intensity was working a bit too well, and Kirishima startled as ice pitched at him from Bakugou's skid stop.
In an instant Kirishima turned sideways to help his own body stop before he ended up running into Bakugou, but his skates buckled and he ended up going down anyway.
He landed on his side and used his arms to take as much impact as they could; luckily they are in full gear, so his skin didn't lash against the unforgiving ice.
The blonde huffed in shock as he skated back a bit—not wanting Kirishima to take him down as well—before bursting out in laughter when the director sighed.
Kirishima groaned and rolled onto his back with a sigh; he blinked up towards the ceiling and held up an arm to block his eyes from the lights with furrowed brows.
Bakugou sounded as if he was going to start crying with how hard he was laughing.
He snorted hard with his body jerking a bit on the floor. "Don't laugh!" He barked out. "You caused this," Kirishima accused playfully.
"Kirishima! Are you alright?" The director called as the woman manning The camera giggled.
The redhead smiled with a breath out and held up a thumbs up. "All good, man, sorry." He said before he let his arms drop and leaned onto his side to get up onto his knees.
He carefully got up, and Kirishima didn't wobble; he's been thrown down many times in his career and knows how to get up even seconds after falling, but Bakugou's hand still found purchase on his back to steady him before giving him two firm taps.
He leaned in closer to Kirishima, causing his hand to slip down his back ever so slightly. "Sorry you cannot handle my energy." Bakugou smiled before pushing off Kirishima—causing the redhead to move back a few centimeters—and skating backwards to his side on the ice for a reshoot.
Kirishima rolled his eyes, but he didn't say anything else to Bakugou and skated back to his own spot after the director warned him to be careful and told Bakugou to not be so aggressive and sudden in his movements.
The redhead saw the other man side-eye the director since the guy asked them for intensity just a moment ago.
The director told him to behave and asked them to head to the mark again so they can all go home after the picture gets taken.
They both skated towards the mark once more, and even Kirishima was starting to feel the director's exasperation as Bakugou broke out in laughter halfway on his way to the mark on the ice, only to do that the two other times they tried again, which caused Kirishima to laugh as well.
"I can do this!" Bakugou said through a snort, and Kirishima let out a breathy laugh through closed lips.
The director encouraged them to try again, pleading for their cooperation, and Kirishima started to feel a little bad when they still could barely hold it together when they had tried for around or over four times already.
"Alright!" The director said, "I think that's as good as we're going to get, so let's all wrap up, yeah?"
He turned to the crew with both his palms up, and they all nodded.
He claps his hand twice. "Okay guys, thank you for your time! Have a good night!"
Kirishima's shoulders slumped as he smiled nervously; he feels bad about the situation but decided to just let it rest because even he was tired.
Bakugou's smile was still wild as he nodded as well and skated over to the side of the ring.
He turned around a bit and jerked his head to the side, indicating for Kirishima to follow.
Kirishima sighed and went after the blonde, his body bumping into the guard on the edge of the rink with a bit of recoil as Bakugou walked off the ice altogether and faced him on the other side of the guard.
He leaned over the guard, resting on his elbows as he swiped his tongue over his teeth.
Kirishima's red eyes darted to the other man's lips, and once again he was fucking caught…if the smile that appeared on the blonde's face was anything to go off of.
Kirishima looked away, thanking the blonde silently for not saying anything that would embarrass him further.
Bakugou cleared his throat a bit before he asked. "When did they tell you that you would be shooting with me and not alone anymore?"
He looked back to the other and bent forward a bit, resting his elbows on the rail and cupping his face. "Uhhh, like, yesterday? No—two days ago."
Kirishima hummed and rolled his eyes off to the side in thought before bringing them back to meet Bakugou's gaze. As he looked to the other's eyes, he caught the man looking at his...neck...maybe?
Kirishima fought the way his heart stuttered and searched his brain for some conversation points.
"Why did you ask, by the way…when did they tell you?" He asked, trying his best to hold eye contact with Bakugou when the blonde did eventually look up; he was so confident and unashamed that Kirishima, despite himself, felt jealous.
"They did not," Bakugou said with that heavy accent of his. "It was my idea." He smiled with a nod.
Kirishima stared at the other man, a bit stunned, before he huffed out a disbelieving laugh with the shake of his head.
Kirishima didn't even realize he was smiling.
There was a heavy sound of ice being scraped against the blades of someone's skates that brought him back from the memory.
It was a certain blonde man, darting around the ice with so much fury and speed that Kirishima was having an almost hard time keeping his eyes on the man.
Almost hard because it seems his eyes always find the man, even when he doesn't realize he's looking for him.
Kirishima breathed in as the cold air touched his face; when he wasn't in the rink, it wasn't cold enough to make his breath condense, but it still bit his skin and made his earlobes pink.
"Eijirou!" A voice yelled from beside him, which caused him to jump a bit; he swiveled his head to the side and sighed when he saw his mom, Eiana Kirishima.
The shorter woman breathed out through her mouth, sounding a bit nasally with the coldness of the room. "Eiji, are you listening to me?"
The redhead blinked and licked his lips as he shifted his posture from one foot to another.
"Uh, yeah—I was, I was." He said as he watched his mother brush her jet-black hair behind her ear.
"Really? Then what did I just say, Eiji?"
Kirishima had to fight the exhausted sigh that threatened to bloom from him.
"The sneakers, Mom, I really did hear you." He said with some emphasis and furrowed brows.
"Eijirou, baby, you have to, and I mean have to, wear your Reeboks, okay?"
Kirishima slid his tongue between his molars before he nodded. "I know, Mom," he said.
He loved his mom, truly. Eiana provided so much support for him…but in moments like this he wishes he could just run away.
He hates when she hounds him about his stupid public appearance; being Asian Canadian, specifically Japanese Canadian, many kids looked up to him. In a sport dominated by white men, those who don't fit the norm and aren't as lucky as him admire him.
Kirishima knows the importance of his appearance, but the pressure is so much sometimes.
He promised he'd be a steady pillar for aspiring hockey players who are POC especially aisian kids, but saying things and actually doing them are two different instances.
He has to push on, though; this is what he loves, and everything has a few downsides.
"Listen, you cannot wear any other sneakers, okay? Or at least, you cannot be seen in anything else."
Kirishima sighs and thinks back to a day where he could play hockey for the love of it and not give a damn what shoes he could or couldn't be seen in.
"You know I'm always in skates, dude." He said, and his mom raised an eyebrow at him.
"Don't call me dude, Eijirou; I'm not your friend, I'm your mother. And I'm saying this in case you aren't in skates."
"You're not my mother." Eijirou said and smiled when her eyes widened like saucers. "You're my mom; Mother is still at work if I recall correctly."
Eiana sighed in relief before she smacked his arm as she laughed. "Eiji! Don't do that."
With a huff, she settled against the rail near the edge of the upper viewing levels for the rink.
"Seriously though, Eijirou, you know how important this is...A lot of kids who don't see themselves here will look up to you, and on top of that, it's a lot of money; you know you're the youngest player ever to sign this deal."
Kirishima bit his cheek and turned back to watch Bakugou skate circles around the rink. "I get it, Mom."
A few moments later Bakugou completed his practice session, and Kirishima left his mom to go hit the showers.
He completed his own practice earlier, but he waited to watch Bakugou skate since doing so outside of the moments where Kirishima was on the ice with Bakugou felt different.
Seeing the blonde in person, aggressively skating even when there was no competition on the ice but the ones he made up in his head, was something vital for Kirishima's perspective on this whole game at this point.
Watching Bakugou reminded him of then and encouraged him to live now.
Kirishima didn't know if it was dangerous or not to literally depend on Bakugou's rivalry so much. But nowadays it felt like his competition with Bakugou was something he had to himself, some fun that was just for him.
The scream of ice under a thick, sharp blade had him coming back to reality as he descended from the viewing area and headed into the building's locker room and shower.
Kirishima entered the bathrooms and took a breath that was full of the smell of detergent and cold tile.
Once all his clothes were off, the man walked over to the communal showers that were all lined up on the blue tiled walls and turned the water on.
He stood under the spray and didn't avoid getting his hair wet.
As long strands touched his upper back, he noted that his hair was way overdue for a trim; he preferred it to be just at or below his neck.
The color was a bit faded, but luckily his roots weren't exposed yet, so it was fine; Kirishima just needed to use his shampoo with the dye infused, and it would be good for a few more weeks.
Kirishima closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead onto the tile, which was probably dumb considering everyone's naked bodies have interacted with this surface at one point or another.
He just had to have faith that the walls were cleaned well and deal with it.
Kirishima was tired from his own practice, and then waiting after to watch Bakugou just helped in making him even more sleepy. The redhead was on the ferry halfway to dreamland, so he was a little shocked when another spray turned on beside him.
Kirishima found himself looking over, then blinking his eyes open, only to see that head of explosively spiky blonde hair that he doesn't know how to feel about.
Their eyes met, and Bakugou's face was all rested and calm. It was a good look on the blonde.
He was letting the water fall over his shoulders with his head tilted so that it didn't catch his hair.
The last time he really saw Bakugou was during that shoot they did; Kirishima doesn't even recall where that picture was used—maybe a thumbnail or a poster of sorts.
The guy looked a bit different; something Kirishima couldn't hope to place honestly.
Bakugou clicked his tongue when the soap dispenser on the wall in front of him was empty—with no content squeezing out even as he pushed the button—and that snapped Kirishima back to reality; he'd been staring at the man the whole time, and Bakugou definitely knew.
As usual.
You would think that Kirishima could fix his problem with constantly getting seen staring when he shouldn't be.
He hasn't, naturally.
Bakugou didn't look away from Kirishima even as he reattempted to get some soap from his own dispenser before turning more towards Kirishima, reaching across, and taking the soap from his dispenser with the push of the button thingy.
Kirishima scoffed because there's a whole free dispenser on Bakugou's other side, but he didn't say anything.
Once the blonde got his soap, he began to lather it up with his palms and spread it onto his shoulders, all while never breaking eye contact with Kirishima.
The redhead swallowed and licked some of the droplets of spray from the side of his mouth.
This…was a bit awkward for Kirishima. It reminded him of how awkward the moment was threatening to be when they were at the gym back then.
Bakugou breathed a long, gentle breath out and didn't break eye contact with Kirishima one bit; not even a blink or flutter of his eyelids as they slid further over his eyes.
Kirishima turned away; he couldn't help it—it felt so strange...He used to feel utter malice when he looked at this man, but now he's just confused about what it is he actually feels.
Well scratch that, Kirishima knows what he feels right now.
It's Bakugou. Well, Bakugou's gaze, to be exact... Kirishima could feel carmine eyes scanning over him.
He looked towards the tile wall in front of him, and in his periphery, he could actually see Bakugou--albeit blurry--staring into his soul.
The redhead fought a shiver as he darted back around to glare at the blonde for being inappropriate in the fucking communal showers.
When their eyes met again, Bakugou smiled with a nod towards his literal dick, and the wind was yanked from Kirishima's lungs as he got flustered.
"Dude!" He snapped a bit in his embarrassment. Kirishima couldn't tell what that gesture meant for sure, but he still groaned, annoyed, and snarked at the other man.
"Go to hell, Bakugou." He huffed as he turned forward again, pushing his dispenser for some soap to lather.
He heard a snort from beside him, and he turned to glare at the man trying to look as unimpressed as he could manage.
Bakugou's lips were folded in for a moment before he let them free to form a smile; he ran his tongue over his teeth before he spoke: "You look like tomato, idiot. I am messing with you."
Kirishima sighed as he remembered how this guy acts on the ice; he's aggressive but also somehow playful at the same time and definitely knows how to mess someone up.
It tracks, considering the shoot and the gym…and every single interaction he's ever had with the guy.
Kirishima side-eyed him. "Don't mess with me when I'm naked, dude."
Bakugou rolled his eyes and leaned over towards Kirishima again. "Do not tell me what to do." He replied as he once again stole soap from Kirishima's dispenser.
This time Kirishima slapped his arm with a soapy hand, causing tiny bubbles to float around for mere seconds before they fell and popped.
Bakugou stopped in his tracks and only moved his eyes as he looked towards Kirishima.
"Man, there's another dispenser over there, and it's probably easier to get to considering you don't have to lean over a whole ass person."
He shoved Bakugou's shoulder with the side of his wrist, and the blonde went easy.
Bakugou stood up straight again, and some of the spray caught his hair, but he didn't seem to mind all that much.
His face was neutral again as he 'humphed' and turned around to the other dispenser instead.
Kirishima's eyes traitorously dashed down Bakugou's body as soon as he was turned around; their loose hockey uniforms definitely hide the form that Bakugou sports.
His shoulders are quite wide, and he has a very toned back, but his torso gets narrow at his waist before his body widens again at his hips down to his strong legs.
Kirishima was only slightly ashamed when he glanced over the blonde's rear so openly, considering he was just now reprimanding the dude for being inappropriate as well.
It was just them in here; he guesses that this can stay between him and himself.
If Kirishima was of the opinion that Bakugou had a nice ass, then nobody had to know.
When the man stood up again, Kirishima looked up instead of away; if he looked away, it would be too obvious. While looking at Bakugou's face, the readheaded man didn't miss the way the other man's gaze started at the bottom, slowly sliding upwards until red met red.
He was sure his eyebrows were just a bit furrowed as he blinked at Bakugou, who continued to lather his skin as if he didn't just do that.
Kirishima didn't know what to say, and he couldn't fight it when his own eyes went down again; this time he glanced over at Bakugou from the front, where the other could clearly see him.
Bakugou huffed a breathy laugh before he reached over and turned Kirishima's shower off.
The redhead stuttered as he glared at a now chuckling Bakugou, and he simply just walked away a couple more showers down before he resumed his rinsing after turning a different one on.
Bakugou looked at him from the new distance and rolled his eyes. "Stay there; you have no humor. Unfunny asshole."
Kirishima didn't even look over his shoulder at the other.
He was sure the blonde had a dusting of pink on his cheeks..