Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Snow blanketed the city, to Kirishima's delight and Bakugou's dismay. While Bakugou's current hero costume, with its fire resistant suit and the heating pads in the gloves, was much better suited to the winter than his old one, Bakugou still somehow managed to complain about being cold. Kirishima figured he'd always be a summer man at heart. Kirishima, meanwhile, enjoyed the cold. It was bracing and made him feel alive and, of course, gave him a reason to be more publicly affectionate with Bakugou than usual, under the guise of sharing warmth. They both knew that was just an excuse, but Bakugou indulged it anyway, and Kirishima always looked forward to the season when Bakugou's discomfort at showing softness where others could see melted away. Even if winter also meant Bakugou constantly chastising him for refusing to mar his own costume with a shirt.

“You're going to get sick,” Bakugou grumbled from behind the mask that covered his head like a motorcycle helmet, black and reflective and angular, designed with Bakugou's murderous aesthetic well in mind. Kirishima knew the mask was a good thing, logically. He'd argued in its favour, just as he had the fireproof suit, had swooned over the imposing figure the new hero costume cut. The mask finally provided Bakugou with much-needed eye and ear protection which he had been sorely lacking for far too long, the absence of which he'd be feeling for the rest of his life.

Maybe Kirishima was selfish sometimes, though, because all the same he missed being able to see his husband's face. Bakugou had a very handsome face, after all, whether he was frowning or scowling or smirking that deadly smirk that Kirishima always felt in his gut, the one that promised victory and threatened destruction, the one that he had fallen in love with years and years ago. And while they'd both changed over the years, that smirk and its effect on him had always remained constant.

“You say that every year, and every year you're the one sniffling in bed,” Kirishima laughed. Bakugou didn't do winter so well, and he didn't do getting sick so well either. Kirishima found both facts entirely endearing. Despite the mask, he knew from the tilt of Bakugou's head and the years they'd spent together that he was scowling and added, “Don't be jealous of my superior immune system.”

Bakugou chuckled. “You're the one crying about allergies every spring.”

“Well I never get stick otherwise, when else are you going to take care of me?” Kirishima grinned at him. Bakugou just shook his head. Today's patrol was a quiet one. Either the villains were all hibernating for the winter or they'd finally figured out that causing trouble while the two pro heroes were around was bad for their health. So of course they took turns teasing each other instead.

Until Kirishima heard a whimper. He stopped, searching for the source of the noise. Bakugou froze beside him, his half-spoken retort forgotten. “What?”

“I heard...” Kirishima trailed off, listening. The street was empty of anything that would have made such a sound. A few people, a few cars, nothing out of the ordinary. But then there it was again, an unmistakable whine, high-pitched and pained.

Bakugou had yet to move. “What?” he repeated in a hiss.

“Do you see a dog, or something? I think there's one nearby that's hurt.”

The tension in Bakugou's stance dissipated as the goal pushed away the distraction of his own desensitized hearing. “How nearby?”

“It's gotta be from one of the alleyways around here,” Kirishima suggested. “You take that one,” he gestured at the one ahead, “and I'll check this one.” He pointed at the one they'd just passed. Bakugou nodded and disappeared into his. Kirishima backtracked and peered into the passage he'd assigned himself. The snow there was disturbed, but just from human foot traffic, using the alleyway as a shortcut or shelter from the wind. He walked down the length of the alley, searching for signs of a dog or anything else that could have made that sad sound. A few thicker piles of snow here and there caught his eye, but none were hiding an animal.

“Katsuki?” he said to his earpiece as he returned to the sidewalk. “Found anything? My alley's empty.”

“Yeah.” Bakugou's voice was quiet. “Any vets open nearby?”

Kirishima looked it up as he walked. “There's a 24-hour one a few blocks away.” He reached Bakugou's alleyway and found him sitting in the snow, legs in an open semicircle before him. A dog- what must have been a dog- was curled up in that semicircle, its head resting atop Bakugou's thigh, on his gloved hand. With his free hand, Bakugou gently stroked the snow from the dog's minimal matted fur, letting the heating pads and the controlled simmering of his quirk melt away the patches of ice. What little fur was there wasn't enough to hide the bones pressing against the skin or the exposed, bleeding wounds. It was skeletal and broken and barely clinging to life. The dog's eyes were closed, and it trembled as it breathed.

Kirishima swallowed down his own emotions and dialed and described the situation to the receptionist. He kept spotting more injuries as he spoke and wondered with a sharp stab of sadness if the dog would even last the way to the vet.

By the time Kirishima hung up, Bakugou had finished melting the cold from the dog's tattered skin. But he kept petting the dog, slow, starting at the dog's limp head and trailing down its spine before starting again, his touch light enough to not disturb any of the wounds along the way. “There you go,” Kirishima heard him murmur, using a voice not unlike the one he used to reassure away Kirishima's insecurities. “Looks like you lost a fight with a fucking bus, huh. But you're still here. You're gonna be fine. Hang on a while longer.”

“The vet's expecting us,” Kirishima said as he watched his husband's tenderness, rarely ever directed at anyone but him.

“This is probably gonna hurt,” Bakugou warned. He shifted his hands, sliding them under the dog, and Kirishima wondered if it was the technique or just the dog's exhaustion that kept it from struggling. It just whimpered, the sound hurt and broken. Bakugou cradled the pile of torn skin and exposed bone to his chest and got to his feet.

Kirishima wished again that he was able to see Bakugou's face. “Okay,” he said, partially to the dog, partially to Bakugou, partially to himself. “Let's go.” He tried not to think of what had happened to the dog or the dog dying in Bakugou's arms. They remained silent as they walked, quickly but with care to not jostle their charge too badly, the dog making the occasional whine and Bakugou making the occasional comforting hum. Kirishima kept his eyes largely on his phone, focusing on making sure they were going in the right direction. They reached the vet without incident.

The woman at the front desk hurried the heroes to the back. Kirishima spoke with the vet as Bakugou gently laid the dog on the table as instructed. He rubbed the dog's head lightly until it relaxed, and when he went to pull away, Kirishima saw the dog shift towards him and weakly lick at his gloved fingers.

The vet ushered them out of the room and the dog whined again.

Bakugou sat in the waiting room, arms crossed tight across his chest. Kirishima didn't need to see his face to know what was wrong. “They're going to do what they can,” he said. “The dog'll be okay.”

Bakugou grunted.

Kirishima sat beside him, hands in his lap. “I'm glad we found it.”

“I'm glad you heard it,” Bakugou said instead, turning his masked head ever so slightly away. But he didn't sound glad. Kirishima sighed. The doctors had said that as long as he used his current ear protection, Bakugou's hearing would survive, but never return to what it had been before his quirk had taken its toll. Kirishima set his hand on his husband's leg, just above the spiked knee guard. Bakugou turned to him again, until Kirishima could see his own reflection in the mask.

“Babe,” Kirishima said. “Take off the mask.”

Bakugou complied, lifting the visor. Bakugou was frowning, the scars across his face twisting with the expression. Kirishima's heart skipped a beat. He was a lucky man, for too many reasons to count.

“Lucky is too obvious, right?”

Bakugou blinked at him. “What?”

“It'd be kind of cliché, wouldn't it?”

Bakugou's frown slipped into an exasperated almost-smile as he realized what Kirishima was doing. “We're not naming the dog, Eijirou.”

“Right. We should at least wait until we know what it looks like when it's all better.”

“Eijirou.”

“I've always wanted to name a dog. Never had any pets as a kid. Always wanted one though.”

“Ei.”

Kirishima beamed at his husband, pleased with the grin that Bakugou was trying to hide under the guise of seriousness. “Yes Katsuki?”

“We're not naming the dog.”

Kirishima leaned in and treated Bakugou to his best pout. “Aw, babe, why not?”

“You know why,” Bakugou grumbled back. But he didn't lean away and didn't tell Kirishima to tone down the public affection, so Kirishima knew it was working. “First you're going to want to name the dog then you're going to want to keep the dog.”

“Noooo,” Kirishima protested, perfectly happy with how entirely unconvincing he sounded. “I just want something better to call it than 'the dog'.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hey, I know how much you love puppies.”

“It's a dog, not a puppy.” Bakugou's attempts at disguising his smile were failing.

Kirishima pressed on. “All dogs are puppies and you know it.”

There it was. Bakugou's smirk. “Fuck off.”

Kirishima reveled in his dual victory. He'd won both the smile and the conversation and chuckled. “Never.”

With their masks, even with Bakugou's visor up, kissing was an exercise in precision. But Bakugou was one of the most skilled people Kirishima had ever known. He tilted his head at just the right angle and responded with a kiss too quick for Kirishima to lean into. “Thank fuck for that,” Bakugou murmured. He unfolded his arms and covered Kirishima's hand with his own. Kirishima beamed at him and squeezed. Maybe it was because it was winter or maybe it was because of their relative privacy or maybe it was because of the dog's reminder of their own mortality but Bakugou holding his hand while wearing their hero costumes was immensely rare and Kirishima adored the opportunity. They held hands regularly otherwise, of course. The gesture held more meaning to them both than Kirishima thought it might for other couples. It always would.

“We should text Kouda,” Bakugou mused, thumb idly running over Kirishima's hand. “Let him know there's another stray for him to take in.”

“It's pretty late,” Kirishima protested, partly because he did, actually, want to keep the dog, and partially just because of Bakugou's terrible texting manners. They were even worse than his in person manners, which was saying something. At least Kirishima had gotten him to the point where he actually checked his messages once in a while now, even if he still rarely responded to them. Just as with everything else, though, Bakugou made more of an effort where Kirishima was involved. He smiled. “Let's at least wait until we know what kind of condition the dog is in once the vet's done.”

“How long's it going to take, anyway?”

Kirishima shrugged. “The vet said it'd be maybe a week or two.”

“The fuck are we doing sitting here, then?” Bakugou demanded.

“You're the one that sat down, babe.”

Bakugou stood roughly, tugging Kirishima along with him. He swung the visor down again, undoubtedly to hide his crawling blush. Bakugou was better with and cared more about animals- and kids, for that matter- than he would ever admit, as far as Kirishima could tell. Kirishima thought it was adorable. He wondered, not for the first time, what Bakugou would be like as a father. But he pushed the thought away as quickly as it arose, just as he always did. The idea of having a kid terrified him on a level he couldn't put into words. They'd both come so close to dying so many times. They probably would again. It was a fact that was difficult enough to parse with just the two of them.

But a dog?

They could manage a dog.

Bakugou kept holding his hand on the way home, to Kirishima's delight. The contact helped to alleviate the weight of the thoughts of their brushes with death, but not by enough. The dog's condition reminded him of Bakugou's, nearly a year ago. It had been easy enough, not to think of it, while they still had the dog nearby to worry about. He'd been able to focus on getting the dog to the vet, getting the dog safe. And then he'd been able to focus on cheering up Bakugou. But now that there was nothing they could do but wait, the memories pressed in of their own accord. Where the dog had been frozen, Bakugou had been burned. It had been nearly a year ago that his husband had gotten those scars on his face, the scars hidden beneath his mask and the rest of his hero costume. It had been nearly a year ago that Kirishima had sat in a hospital dreading the moment his husband's hand would slip from his, dreading the moment his husband would slip from him.

Walking through the silently drifting snow, painting patterns of white in the dark, it felt like it had been only days.

Kirishima held on tighter to Bakugou's hand. Bakugou didn't argue.

It had been nearly a year ago that he thought Bakugou was going to die.

They took the long route home. They could have taken the metro or a cab but it was good to walk out the stress. It was good to see the snow. It was good to hold Bakugou's hand and let the cold air counter some of the anxiety digging its fingers into Kirishima's chest.

It was well past midnight by the time they returned home. Their place was spacious without being overwhelming, and warm in both colour and temperature. His and Bakugou's colour preferences meshed well and resulted in a design that was surprisingly cohesive, all reds and blacks and splashes of paler orange and yellow. Kirishima had enjoyed the process of picking out the furniture and décor more than he'd expected, but even more than that, he enjoyed the domesticity of he and Bakugou filling the house with bits and pieces of themselves. He was proud of the home they'd made together.

Before they'd even taken off their shoes, Bakugou yanked off his mask and tossed it aside onto the carpet, then wrapped his hands around Kirishima's and did the same. He pressed his still-gloved hands to either side of Kirishima's jaw, just under his ears, and brought him in for a long, furious kiss with a desperation that caught Kirishima off guard. Kirishima tried to relax into the kiss, but there was something off about the way it felt, the way it seemed as if Bakugou were trying to prove something. Kirishima pulled back, eyes searching Bakugou's. They were narrowed with worry and a familiar stubborn pride. “What's wrong?” he asked, quiet.

Mouth a thin line, Bakugou brought Kirishima in again, this time to rest their foreheads together. Kirishima wrapped his arms around him. “I'm alive,” Bakugou said, fast and fierce, defiant, insistent. “I'm not... I saw how you looked at that dog. I get it, okay? But I'm not some dog dying in an alleyway. I'm alive. I'm fine. I'm here. I'm not going to leave you. I love you. Alright?”

“Katsuki-”

Bakugou shifted, pulling Kirishima into a tight hug. His voice faded until it was impossibly soft. “I'm alive, okay?”

Kirishima closed his eyes. Held on. Breathed. “Okay.”

Bakugou woke up screaming that night, ghost fire devouring his skin. Kirishima held him until the flames went out and Bakugou sobbed breaths into his lungs.

Bakugou had nightmares even before they'd started dating. Trauma clung to him like cobwebs. Sometimes they just meant he had a slightly disrupted sleep schedule that night; sometimes they meant he blew up their mattress and couldn't or wouldn't sleep properly for the next week. Kirishima was as intimately familiar with the nightmares, with the process of them, as he was with each of Bakugou's physical scars. Kirishima didn't mind. Bakugou always returned to himself, eventually, sometimes sooner than others. Kirishima was happy to shorten that time Bakugou spent in limbo as best he could, whether through touch or words or, occasionally, crying along with him.

Kirishima kissed him back to sleep.

During a late afternoon brunch almost two weeks after, Kirishima received a call from the vet and relayed the good news to Bakugou, tangible relief in his gut. “The dog's fine,” he said, smiling over his eggs. “They're going to do a few more things to make sure it's okay to go and then it'll just need to be taken good care of to finish recovering.”

Bakugou nodded, sipping at his coffee. “Should text Kouda, then.” But Kirishima heard the hesitation in his voice that he tried to hide. Kirishima thought to himself, again, that he really did want a dog; that, just maybe, they could manage a dog.

“We can text him after we go see what kind of condition the dog is in, right?” Kirishima suggested.

Running his fingers over the lip of his mug, Bakugou nodded. Kirishima's eyes fixated as always on the black circle of ink ringing his finger, the one that mirrored his own. Plain and simple and it had been years but it still made his throat tight, still made a wave of warmth bloom in his chest, and Kirishima knew it always would. They'd gotten tattooed rings for practicality but also for permanence. They'd been together for years before they'd gotten married and Kirishima knew they would stay together after. The idea of ever not loving Bakugou was incomprehensible. He'd always loved him, even before he'd realized the word for the dizzy happiness he always got around Bakugou. He always would.

The burns hadn't scarred the ring, though they wove their way up his arms, dense above the elbows and winding underneath the sleeves of his sleep shirt. Kirishima reached over and traced the tattoo with his fingertips. Bakugou let him, then snagged Kirishima's hand in his own with a smirk. “Don't let your eggs go cold,” he warned. “Wasting my hard work.”

Kirishima chuckled and stuffed his face. “Waste food?” he asked through mouthfuls. “I'd never.”

“Don't talk with food in your fucking mouth,” Bakugou grumbled, smiling over his mug, decidedly not releasing his husband's hand. “And you say I have shit manners.”

“Can't help it babe, you're just such a good cook,” Kirishima said, with food in his mouth.

“Manipulative shit.”

Kirishima winked. Bakugou's grin widened. Kirishima had always known how to read Bakugou, how to push his buttons, how to convince him to do the things Kirishima knew Bakugou wanted but wouldn't otherwise permit himself. Well, maybe not always; it had taken Kirishima more time to figure out Bakugou than it took for him to figure out anyone else. Maybe that was one of the reasons he'd been so drawn to Bakugou back when they'd first met. But Kirishima knew him better than he knew anyone else, now, and he'd have it no other way. Bakugou had been a jigsaw whose pieces kept changing themselves. But Bakugou fit together perfectly, despite his own best efforts. Kirishima enjoyed the infinite process of piecing him together, enjoyed each of the parts of him that were revealed as he did so. There were still images in that puzzle that Kirishima kept discovering, over the years, and Kirishima enjoyed every new find, every new detail.

“You love it,” he insisted.

Bakugou grinned at him over his coffee. “Obviously.”

They finished their brunch while it was still hot and after the dishes were taken care of Kirishima swept Bakugou into a laughing kiss and carried him off to their shower. He watched the water stream down the topographic map of burns engraved into Bakugou's back and traced the ridges with his fingers, then his kisses, trying to push away the memory of the scent of his husband's scorched flesh, trying to replace the horror of their acquisition with tenderness. It didn't work, really; it never did. But that didn't stop Kirishima from trying, didn't stop Bakugou from relaxing into his touch.

They dressed in street clothes and headed out to the vet. Kirishima found himself glad that it was the weekend, glad that they'd made an effort to have a more manageable schedule these days. Before they'd gotten married, they'd been working nearly nonstop; even years after, they'd rarely taken time for themselves. While the somewhat more recent change in their workload had been a direct result of Bakugou's injuries and Kirishima's insistence, it was at least one positive outcome of that whole mess. There were plenty of other heroes around to take care of villains; Bakugou and Kirishima could certainly afford to take some time off without encouraging an immediate increase in crime rates. And, either way, their friends were more than equipped to handle any situation that might arise. Should they need the help, he and Bakugou were just a call away. Always had been, always would be. Bakugou might not be good at texting back, but he'd never ignored a call.

He hadn't, almost a year ago.

Kirishima wondered why he was having such difficulty with the memories today. Maybe it was the dog or maybe it was the upcoming anniversary of the incident but it was more of a challenge than it should be to not think of Bakugou crumpled bloody and charred on the ground.

Bakugou kissed him on the cheek as they walked. He was more perceptive than people gave him credit for, at least as far as Kirishima was concerned. “Lucky's not cliché,” Bakugou said. Kirishima stared at him. Bakugou raised an eyebrow back. “The dog,” he explained. “The name. Lucky's fine.”

“Really?”

“If that's what you want to name it, then fuck it. Whatever name you pick's going to be a good one.” Bakugou shrugged. “I'm sure as shit not going to name it, anyway.”

“Aw, babe,” Kirishima grinned and wondered if the pink in Bakugou's cheeks was from the cold or a blush. “Lucky it is, then.”

The receptionist was a different one than the night they'd bought in the dog, but she still recognized them as heroes, if not as patrons. She ushered them back to where the dog lay sleeping, shaved and washed and covered in bandages and a blanket. Even just two weeks had done wonders for the dog; it was still skeletal, in need of months of care, but it already looked significantly more alive than before. As Kirishima spoke with the vet, he kept an eye on Bakugou. He was standing by the table, his hands atop it, just beside the dog's head, relief clear on his features. The sight made Kirishima's heart swell. Unwilling to disturb whatever it was that was going through his husband's thoughts, Kirishima left him there as he followed the vet out to pay and collect a list of instructions and a small bag of medication.

They should text Kouda, now. Their old classmate's hero agency was an animal shelter in its own right, and Kouda was always taking in new charges, caring for them and making them well at home. He'd be able to take care of the dog, to ensure it recovered, to ensure it stayed recovered. But Kirishima didn't want to give the dog away. They'd found it, they'd rescued it. It was their responsibility. And he'd always wanted a dog. And, maybe, just maybe, the dog reminded Kirishima the slightest bit of Bakugou.

When he returned to the room, the dog was licking Bakugou's fingers. “Cut that out,” he muttered. “Nitroglycerin can't be good for dogs, right?” He moved his hand to pet the dog, instead, and the dog seemed satisfied with that.

“Katsuki?” Bakugou grunted acknowledgment but didn't turn away from the dog, didn't stop gently scratching behind its ears. “Should we text Kouda?”

Bakugou looked up, smirking. “Fuck no. You named it, now we gotta keep it.”

Kirishima laughed. Of course. He should've seen that coming. He grinned back at his husband, delighted.

They had a dog.

Neither of them knew the first thing about owning a pet, much less a recently almost-dead dog, which they realized very quickly. As they stared in horror at the immense dog food aisle of the nearest pet store, Kirishima caught the eye of one of the workers, a young woman failing to discreetly take photos of them. She went red the moment he waved at her and hastily shoved her phone in her pocket, then just as hastily jogged up to them. “So, we have a dog,” Kirishima started. “What stuff should we buy?”

She walked them through the basics and then the extras, doing an admirable job of maintaining her composure and keeping her advice solid despite the way her fingers itched at her phone. Kirishima thanked her for her help with a selfie which Bakugou grumbled his way out of. Kirishima didn't mind, and the worker seemed ecstatic enough.

They left the store with nearly too much to hold, especially considering that Bakugou refused to carry the dog- their dog- with anything less than the entirety of both of his arms. Getting home was a balancing act and a practice of patience and Kirishima, carrying the bulk of the supplies, nearly slipped on the icy sidewalk on more than one occasion. Bakugou laughed, but it was a quiet sound, as if he was unwilling to move his chest too much on the off chance that it might disturb the dog nestled against it.

They set up their purchases and debated where the dog should sleep. “We don't know if she's gonna piss all over the floor,” Bakugou insisted. “Lucky stays in the bathroom until we know she won't shit everywhere.”

The idea of quarantining their new pet was appalling. “Babe, come on, you can't put a dog in the bathroom, she deserves to sleep in the bedroom.”

“You say that now, but you'll bitch when you're the one who has to scrub dog shit from the carpet.” Kirishima acquiesced. They put the dog bed in the ensuite, along with her bowls of food and water.

They took turns showering and showing Lucky around the house. While Bakugou was in the bathroom, Kirishima sat on the floor and entertained himself in the simple act of watching Lucky wobble her way here and there in the living room, sniffing at their shoe rack and their couch. She already looked so much healthier and happier than when they'd first found her. He wondered what she would look like after a few months in their care. When she got tired of smelling furniture, she padded over to Kirishima, head cocked curiously.

“Hey, there,” Kirishima smiled, extending a hand. Lucky sniffed at it. Apparently he passed whatever test she was conducting, because she then licked at his fingers, just as she had Bakugou's. Kirishima's grin widened and he realized he was already in love with the delicate critter. “Good girl. We're gonna take great care of you, just you wait. You'll be in great shape in no time.”

Lucky stepped closer and stumbled into his lap. “Careful,” Kirishima murmured, gently helping her along with a warm contentment in his chest. Her paws tentatively pressed on his legs, her wet nose sniffing at his shirt. She turned in a semicircle and laid down, front paws and head on his thigh. He pet her carefully, wary of disturbing any of her still-healing injuries, and lost track of time in the pure wonder of a dog- their dog- dozing off in his lap, of the fact that she trusted them after whatever had happened to her, of the fact that, after all these years, he finally had a dog. And she absolutely was a good dog. Kirishima could tell. They'd definitely made the right choice in keeping her.

Bakugou returned from the shower, wearing pajamas and one of his quiet smiles. Kirishima beamed up at him. “You look really happy,” Bakugou commented, and Kirishima could hear the warmth in the observation. Bakugou leaned over and set one hand on Kirishima's shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I am,” Kirishima said. He tilted his chin up to give Bakugou a proper kiss, though he kept his hands on Lucky. He grinned once Bakugou pulled away. “We have a dog, babe! This is awesome.”

Bakugou walked off behind him and out of view, but Kirishima could hear his laughter. “Fuck yeah it is.” Music drifted in from the kitchen and Kirishima returned to the newfound joy of petting their dog. He was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep, but that was okay.

After a while, Bakugou joined him again, setting their dinner on the floor and pulling a blanket down from the couch around their shoulders. Bakugou put on the next episode of the show they'd been watching lately and they ate in a comfortable quiet, laughing at the show's jokes and complaining at its poor fight choreography. When they'd finished their food, they set their dishes aside and Bakugou leaned into Kirishima's shoulder. Kirishima kissed him on the temple and smiled and wondered at how easy it was to fall more in love with his husband every day.

Several episodes later, Kirishima realized he was the only one of the three still awake. He jostled his shoulder slightly, waking Bakugou with the movement and, of course, with kisses. Bakugou blinked sleepily back at him. “I'm awake,” he protested.

“Yeah, you are now,” Kirishima grinned. “Come on, Katsuki. The bed's gonna be a bit more comfortable than the floor.”

“Debatable.” Bakugou offered a bleary smirk and slowly pulled himself from Kirishima's shoulder. He took care of the blanket and the dishes as Kirishima carefully brought Lucky to the bathroom.

Lucky stirred when he set her on her bed, and Kirishima patted her on the head. “Sorry, but you're gonna have to stay in here tonight. Katsuki's got a point.”

“Always do,” Bakugou said from the doorway. That soft smile was there again. He crouched down beside the dog bed and rubbed the ridge of Lucky's head with his fingertips. She relaxed onto the bed, which seemed to satisfy Bakugou. “There you go. You're gonna be fine. You'll see us in the morning.”

“Gonna tuck her in?” Kirishima teased.

Bakugou scowled at him, but gave Lucky a final pat on the head and dragged Kirishima giggling out of the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click behind them.

“You're really cute with her,” Kirishima noted as he stripped off the dog-covered pajamas.

“I'm not fucking cute,” he grumbled, quickly checking the news and his messages on his phone before plugging it in, completing his usual nightly routine. They shuffled under the sheets and pressed together with the comfort of having done so a thousand times before. Bakugou wrapped his arms around Kirishima and gave him a playful glare.

“My bad. Adorable. You're adorable.” Kirishima grinned at him, his fingers idly tracing Bakugou's scars, finding by default those far older than others, laden with less distress than others.

“Fuck off.” Bakugou kissed his forehead.

Kirishima chuckled. “See? Proving my point.” He went quiet for a moment, considering. He was glad they'd taken in the dog. He was glad they had something to care for together, something less terrifying than a child. But it was still a big step and a big responsibility and he couldn't help but feel some insecurity bubble up. “Is this okay?”

Bakugou pulled back so he could frown at him. “Is what okay?”

“Just,” Kirishima tried for a smile, well aware that he was being too vague but too worried to be more specific, too aware that he was just starting to spiral, “this?”

“The dog?”

“Yeah. It's... It is kind of a big deal, isn't it?”

Bakugou rubbed circles into Kirishima's shoulder. “Yeah.” He kissed Kirishima again, light and gentle. “But it's good, right? We can,” he paused, pressed another kiss to Kirishima's cheek. “We can do this. We can have this.”

“What about when we're at work?”

“What do normal fucking people do with their dogs when they're at work?” Bakugou scoffed and kissed him again. “We'll figure it out.”

“But what if I mess it up?”

“Same thing we'll do if I fuck it up.” Bakugou kept kissing him and Kirishima clung to each one like the rungs of a rope ladder, using them to pull himself up and out of his anxiety. “We'll figure it out. You wanted a dog, right? So we're damn well gonna have a dog.” He said it matter of fact, as if it were the clearest thing in the world. As if Bakugou would do anything to ensure Kirishima had everything he could ever want. And, Kirishima knew, he would, to the best of his ability. And Bakugou did a good job of it.

“I love you,” Kirishima murmured.

And he loved the way Bakugou's frowns blossomed into smiles, the way his eyes softened around the edges, the way his whole body shifted to embrace Kirishima, the way his arms felt like home, the way he said- the way he'd said a hundred thousand times but warmed Kirishima like steeping in sunlight on each and every occasion- “Love you too, Eijirou.”

It was in the dark hours of the morning when Kirishima was woken by a noise. He searched automatically for Bakugou, but his husband appeared peacefully asleep, for once. Kirishima blinked in confusion until he realized the noise was coming from the bathroom. A high-pitched whining. It wasn't a pained noise, this time, but it demanded attention nonetheless. Kirishima stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Lucky sat inside and stopped whining the moment he opened the door. She looked up at him and stood up atop her bed.

Kirishima knelt and reached out to her. She sniffed at his fingers and allowed him to pick her up and carry her out the front door. He set her down in the snow, went back inside to rummage through yesterday's purchases for a bag, then sat on the steps as he waited, watching snowflakes drift down from the clouds with a sleepy comfort, the cold air nestling into his lungs and prickling his skin. Bakugou would berate him for sitting out in the cold in his boxers, but Kirishima thought it felt nice. It was a relief that Lucky was housetrained, since he really had no idea how people went about training dogs to not just do their thing wherever. But at the same time, it was a bit distressing. If she was housetrained, that meant she used to be someone else's dog. Which meant she'd been abandoned.

Kirishima wondered how long she'd been alone.

He picked up after Lucky and carried her back inside. He wrapped her in a towel to dry off the snow and stop her shivering and she whined and licked at his face, making him smile. “Good girl,” he laughed. He moved her bed from the bathroom to the foot of his and Bakugou's own. He wasn't about to let her be alone anymore. She seemed happy with that, and curled up, closed her eyes, and drifted off as if the new environment was comfortable already.

Kirishima waited until he'd warmed up under the covers before cuddling in to Bakugou. Bakugou sighed in his sleep but otherwise didn't react. Kirishima's eyes trailed the scars across his husband's back for longer than they should have before he pulled up the blanket to cover them both under its comfort. He nestled his forehead against the base of Bakugou's neck and tried not to think. It didn't work especially well. Even with Bakugou alive and well in his arms, even with them both safe and comfortable at home, the early morning hour refused to let the memories rest. He remembered holding Bakugou another time, nearly a year ago, wondering when Bakugou would leave him alone.

He fell asleep, eventually. He didn't dream.

Chapter Text

Kirishima woke alone to the smell of coffee and the sound of the calmer end of Bakugou's music selection, a little bit loud but nothing disruptive. He stretched under the warm sheets before sliding his feet into his slippers, checking Lucky's bed to find it empty. He made his way to the window and pushed aside the curtains to see everything covered in a fresh dusting of snow, the sky a rosy grey. Lights from lamps and windows pooled on the snow, painting patches of warmth. From here, the world looked peaceful, quiet, half-asleep. Cozy and content in its winter slumber.

Kirishima put on his own music, checking the time in the process- six; Kirishima wondered how long Bakugou had been up- and began his morning workout. He was finishing with a final set of pushups when he heard whining and scratching at the bedroom door. A moment later, the door opened, and Lucky burst in, bouncing across the carpet and skidding into Kirishima's arm. She licked at Kirishima's face with an enthusiasm that forced him down from his plank onto his knees and sat back, laughing as she jumped up in his arms.

When he managed to pull his face away from Lucky's dog kisses, he saw Bakugou leaning in the doorframe with a wide grin, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a mug. “Morning, Eijirou.”

“Morning babe-” Lucky managed another lick across his face and he burst out laughing. “Morning to you too Lucky! What's up with you, huh?” She wriggled her stump of a tail and Kirishima would have sworn she was smiling.

“See? Told you he's fine,” Bakugou chuckled to the dog.

Apparently satisfied, Lucky settled down, instead headbutting Kirishima's chest in search of pats. Kirishima obliged, rubbing her head with a smile. “Guess she likes us.”

“I'd fucking say so,” Bakugou agreed. “Still haven't met someone who doesn't like you, anyway.”

Kirishima gave him his best beaming shark-toothed smile. “I won you over, didn't I?”

“Says more about you than me,” Bakugou smirked.

It probably did. Kirishima nodded in agreement. He very distinctly remembered his friends' reactions when he'd told them about his crush, back in their Yuuei days, how Ashido had just kind of shrugged helplessly and patted him on the back, how Sero had laughed and kept laughing for the next few days, how Kaminari had insisted, horrified, that his quirk had turned his brain into a rock. But it had worked out, despite their- in retrospect- admittedly somewhat understandable hesitation. Bakugou had calmed down a lot since those days. Not too much, by any means. He still had his sharp edges. But Kirishima loved those too.

“Clean up and I'll get some food ready,” Bakugou added after a moment of watching Kirishima pet their dog. “And make sure you wash your face, I'm not kissing dog slobber.”

Kirishima pouted at him. “What, you're not gonna let her kiss you?”

“Fuck that, you're the only one that gets to kiss me,” Bakugou grumbled, pointedly ignoring Kirishima's broad grin. “C'mon, Lucky.” Lucky gave Kirishima a final nuzzle and trailed Bakugou out of the room. He really did have a way with animals. They'd come across a deer while on one of their first hikes together, and watching Bakugou's reaction had been an introduction to a kind of tranquility Kirishima had never seen on him before. And that sense of peace must have reached the deer, too, because it had approached them and had been close enough to touch. After that, Kirishima had joked that Bakugou was better with animals than people, and Bakugou hadn't even protested. Every other interaction he'd had with an animal since just continued to prove Kirishima's point. Having Lucky around was bound to be good for him. Even if she did interrupt Kirishima's workout.

As he showered, he wondered at how quickly Lucky had accepted them. From what little research he'd snuck in when Bakugou hadn't been looking while waiting to hear back from the vet, it wasn't unusual for strays to take a long time to acclimatize to people. And, now that Kirishima knew she was housetrained, he was even more surprised; if she'd been abandoned by her previous owners, how could she have decided he and Bakugou were safe so easily?

But Kirishima thought of the way Bakugou had melted the ice from her tattered body, the way he carried her, and maybe it wasn't such a surprise.

Breakfast was waiting for him when he stepped out of the bedroom. Lucky sat to the side of the table, staring up at their plates. Bakugou stared right back at her, scowling. “This is people food. We got you perfectly good fuckin' dog food. Which you already ate.”

“Aw, no treats for Lucky?”

“Don't you start, if we let her have people food she's not gonna eat anything else and I'm not fucking cooking for three.”

Kirishima stepped past Lucky, careful not to step on her, and leaned in for a kiss. One of Bakugou's hands crept up his cheek and into his hair, the other reaching around his waist and up his back, holding him close. Their kiss was comprised of a dozen smaller ones, light presses like snowflakes melting on skin. Kirishima made his way across his husband's cheek to his ear. “Thanks for breakfast,” he murmured, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound of Bakugou's content sigh.

When he pulled away, he saw Bakugou's lips curled into a smile that softened the fire in his eyes. Bakugou held on to him, looking up at him from the chair, tender and loving. “You're welcome,” he said, quiet, and tugged on Kirishima's shirt until he leaned down again for another kiss.

“Breakfast's going to get cold,” Kirishima whispered onto his lips.

Bakugou hummed in response, but let him go. Kirishima felt his eyes on him as he moved around Lucky and sat. Lucky turned her begging to him, clearly having decided he was the weaker mark of the two men. Which was probably true. But Kirishima just grinned at her. “Sorry, Katsuki'll be mad at me if I give you my food.”

“Damn right I will,” Bakugou grumbled without malice. Kirishima loved the smirk on his face. “I'm already letting it slide that you moved her bed, don't you start feeding her from the table too.”

Of course he'd noticed. Kirishima offered a sheepish smile. “She's housetrained, babe. I took her out last night and everything. No need to keep her in the bathroom.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes over his mug of coffee. “Sure,” he said, sounding entirely unconvinced. He set the mug down and looked at Lucky, still hopefully staring up at Kirishima. “I took her out when I woke up, too. You're probably right. And I don't think she's going to take too long to recover, either.”

Kirishima smiled down at her. “She seems to being pretty okay! Who's a good girl?”

Lucky's ears perked up.

He laughed. Even with the wounds on her ears, and the rest of her, still healing, even with her shaved fur only just starting to grow in as fuzz, she looked adorable. “What kind of dog do you think she is, anyway?”

“A good one?” Bakugou suggested. It was an excellent suggestion, one that Kirishima readily agreed with. “Other than that, I don't fucking know, didn't the vet say?”

“Nope,” Kirishima shrugged as he ate. “Didn't think to ask, though.”

“Hm.” Bakugou joined his husband in eating breakfast and the two slipped into a comfortable quiet, disturbed only by the music in the background and Lucky's occasional hopeful whine. Kirishima had to wonder whether Bakugou was intentionally ignoring the whines or if he just couldn't hear them, but didn't bring it up.

Lucky gave up her begging and curled up atop Kirishima's feet. He pointed it out to Bakugou with a delighted grin. Bakugou peered under the table and grinned back. “I'm her favourite now, Katsuki,” Kirishima teased. “That's what you get for not letting her lick you.”

“If that's what it costs, that's what it costs,” Bakugou chuckled. He reached over the table and ran his thumb over Kirishima's hand. “You're my favourite too, anyway, so I can't really blame her.”

“You're being sweet today.”

“Fuck off, I'm always sweet,” Bakugou said with a glower, drawing a laugh. Kirishima pulled Bakugou's hand into his. He wasn't wrong. He'd been a better boyfriend than any of their Yuuei friends could have guessed, and was a better husband than even Kirishima could have anticipated. But when Bakugou decided to do something, he did it right, with the entirety of his energy; whether it was training or being a hero or being a husband, he dedicated himself to his efforts with a focus and passion that few could hope to match. Kirishima both admired and loved it.

“Love you,” Kirishima said, squeezing his hand.

Bakugou's scowl faded. “Love you too.”

They finished their breakfast holding hands.

Bakugou took care of the dishes, as he usually did. He often protested when Kirishima tried, claiming that he cleaned them better than Kirishima, but they both knew it was just another means for Bakugou to take care of him. This time, Kirishima didn't try to argue, as his toes were still claimed by Lucky. So he just propped himself up on his elbows, relaxed, and admired the view of his husband's back and the warmth of their dog on his feet. He hummed along to the music before realizing that Bakugou couldn't hear him over the sound of the water and started singing along instead, loudly and intentionally off-key. Bakugou spun around from the sink and slung droplets of soapy water at him until neither of them could hear the music for the sound of their laughter.

Bakugou stalked towards him with dripping hands. “Noooo,” Kirishima protested, leaning back in his chair as far as he dared, still unwilling to disturb Lucky by moving his feet. “No, babe, I just showered, don't-”

His protests were cut off as Bakugou caught his giggling face in his soaked hands and covered his lips with his own. Before Kirishima could lean into the kiss, Bakugou pulled away with a dangerous smile. “That's what you get for singing bad,” he threatened.

“Should sing badly more often if I get kisses out of it,” Kirishima mused.

Bakugou tapped Kirishima's forehead with a wet finger. “Not what I meant.”

Kirishima wiped off the sink water from his face with the backs of his hands, grinning. “You're allowed to just ask me to sing properly, you know.” Bakugou glowered at him again and returned to the sink to finish the dishes. Kirishima sang to him often enough. It helped Bakugou sleep, sometimes, or calm him down from nightmares, other times. And sometimes it was just for fun. It had been a while since he'd serenaded Bakugou, and it was something they both enjoyed. Bakugou liked the romantic display, whether or not he admitted it; Kirishima liked the way it made him blush.

But before he could start, Bakugou turned off the water and leaned up against the sink, drying his hands on the dish towel, frowning with his eyes. “We should go to our cabin,” he said, changing the subject abruptly and without preamble. “Take a few days. We haven't been in a while. Just,” he looked down at Lucky, still atop Kirishima's feet, with a lopsided smile that smoothed the creases from between his eyebrows, “just the three of us.”

They hadn't been to their cabin since in over a year. Not since before the incident. The reminder shifted uncomfortably in Kirishima's stomach. He looked down at his hands. “We have work.”

“We can leave it to the sidekicks, give the others a head's up that we'll be out of town. Not like there's been a lot of crime lately. They can handle it. And what was my record for flying us back from there?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Twenty fuckin' minutes and I can fly us all the way back here if we need to.”

He was right, of course. And Kirishima did enjoy their cabin. “And Lucky would probably like it out there,” Kirishima thought aloud.

Bakugou left the sink and perched on the edge of the kitchen table, lifting up Kirishima's chin with his fingertips. “Just the three of us,” he repeated, tracing Kirishima's jaw with his thumb.

Kirishima's gaze followed the lines of Bakugou's burn scars up his arms to his neck, to those scars crossing the side of his face and nearly reaching his eyes. They'd healed as well as they ever would. Tomorrow and it would be a year. It was no surprise that Bakugou wanted to be away for the anniversary of the event. There was a certain allure to it, as if being back in their old cabin would somehow insulate them from that particular passage of time.

“Okay.”

Bakugou kissed him, a warm pressure that seeped into Kirishima like soaking in steam. Bakugou felt focused and intent and furiously, beautifully alive.

He felt like home.

Even though it had been some time since they'd been to their cabin, they packed light. They always kept the place well stocked and often lent it out to their friends when they weren't using it. Tsuyu in particular loved staying there in the summer, and she always made sure to replace everything she'd used and then some. The only supplies they packed in particular bulk were perishables and items for Lucky. Neither were willing to part with something that it might turn out their new pet would need up in the mountains. While Bakugou could fly himself back to get anything they might need, technically he wasn't supposed to, not that anyone would complain about such a famous hero using his quirk to get around; and, more importantly, Kirishima resolved that he was going to keep his husband out of the city as much as he could during the anniversary of his near-death. A few days wouldn't hurt. It wasn't as if they couldn't afford the time off.

Kirishima texted their sidekicks and friends to let them know they'd be out of town. When they finished packing and finished closing up the house, Bakugou scooped up Lucky in his arms again, despite the fact that she could definitely walk on her own. Kirishima thought it was cute. They stepped out into the cold and watched as Lucky tried to catch snowflakes from the safety of Bakugou's grasp. They took the metro out towards the mountains and then a cab as far as the road would go. Bakugou wrapped Lucky in one of the blankets he'd packed before they left the car and carried her again as they walked. The air was even colder here than in the city, crisp and clean and sharp. Bakugou's face was pink from the cold, despite his numerous layers.

They were surrounded by a familiar silence, as if the forest itself were slumbering under the thick blanket of snow; as if the entire mountain was asleep for the winter. The fresh snow crunched and squeaked beneath their boots, the drifts piling up to mid-shin. That same tranquility Kirishima had seen all those years ago resurfaced again in the stillness of Bakugou's expression, in the calm that framed his face in the same way that the wisps of his breath did. Bakugou rarely looked as peaceful as he did out in the wilderness, or when he and Kirishima relaxed together after a day of fighting villains.

“I forgot how beautiful it gets out here,” Kirishima murmured.

Bakugou smiled at him and Kirishima felt a warmth run through him despite the winter chill. “Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes not leaving Kirishima.

They reached their cabin without hurrying. The nearby lake wasn't yet iced over, but its dock and the cabin itself were covered in snow. Kirishima opened up the door to let Bakugou and Lucky in before heading out to the woodshed in the back in search of the firewood they kept stocked there. He piled several pieces into his arms, returned to the cabin, and dumped them in the furnace; Bakugou lit them with his palms.

As the cabin slowly warmed, Bakugou released Lucky and stripped off his snow-covered clothes as she set to sniffing around the cabin, dragging her blanket with her. Everything but his boxers and undershirt were piled up in the mudroom. Kirishima knocked the snow from his boots and tossed his own snowy clothes on the pile. The cabin was by no means massive, but it was certainly sizable enough; it had running hot water and a bathroom, which Kirishima had insisted upon, as well as a functioning kitchen and a generator that they could use if they needed to, although the furnace did well enough to provide heating and energy. Add to that the bedroom and the den and it was a more than comfortable enough space for the two- the three- of them.

But the furnace would take a while to heat up the cabin, and there was something they had to do in the meantime.

“Katsuki,” Kirishima crooned from the doorway.

Bakugou went rigid by the furnace, peering over his shoulder with blatant suspicion. “No.”

Kirishima grinned. “Katsuuuukiiii,” he repeated, stepping closer.

“No. Absolutely fucking no.” Bakugou backed up until his back was flush against the cabin wall, his face lined with fury, hands up and palms out. “Don't you fucking dare.”

Lucky crossed in front of them to curl up in front of the furnace. Kirishima tilted his head his husband, at the expression that, to anyone else, would be promising a swift death. But it just made Kirishima's mischievous smile grow even wider. “Baaabe. It's tradition, we gotta.”

“No,” Bakugou hissed again, but he didn't fire off any explosions, didn't resist when Kirishima wrapped him in a hug or when he pressed kisses onto his cheek. Activating his quirk, Kirishima crouched down and scooped Bakugou into his arms and sprinted out the cabin in nothing but his underwear, kicking the door shut behind them, Bakugou screaming death threats and bloody murder the whole way. Kirishima ran barefoot through the snow and across and the dock, then into the frigid lake with a massive splash.

Bakugou surfaced with a vengeful howl and dove at Kirishima with rage frozen into his snarl. Kirishima cackled. They wrestled in the water, the movement shaking some of the cold from their bones, gasping to avoid choking in the water. Kirishima stayed hardened; Bakugou couldn't really use his quirk, now, with the water and the temperature, but he was still a heavy hitter, even when they were just sparring. Bakugou managed to dunk Kirishima under the water, but Kirishima kicked up and flopped on top of his husband, crashing them both below. They grappled until they needed to breathe and surfaced just long enough to force air back into their lungs before going at it again. Once they were both as warmed as they were going to get given the temperature, Bakugou kicked off of Kirishima and swam towards the shore in a futile attempt to escape. Kirishima caught him by the leg and dragged him back through the water. Bakugou kicked at him again, but the blow bounced off his toughened skin and just made Kirishima laugh. He grabbed Bakugou's wrists and pulled him in for a kiss.

Bakugou pressed into him, openmouthed and hungry, tongue twisting with his own, adrenaline surging as always by the familiarity of their fighting, the kind of kiss that burned away the winter cold, that burned a glowing heat into Kirishima's blood. When Bakugou pulled away, he treated Kirishima to one of his furious, deadly smiles, one of those smiles of his that always knocked the breath from Kirishima's lungs and made him feel like he was eighteen and invincible again. “You absolute shit.”

“Who, me?” Kirishima smiled innocently back at his frozen, soaked, dangerously attractive husband and lazily started kicking his way through the water back to shore, holding on to Bakugou as he did so. Bakugou looped his arms around Kirishima's neck, buried his face in Kirishima's shoulder, and let Kirishima lift him into his arms again. Kirishima trudged his way back across the snow and into the cabin, Bakugou grumbling the whole way.

Waiting for them inside was Lucky, still lying beside the furnace but staring at the door with watchful eyes. She wagged her tail when they stepped in and got to her paws, whining at them. “Hey Lucky,” Kirishima smiled at her. It was already much warmer inside, though whether that was just in comparison to the nearly frozen lake, Kirishima wasn't sure. He dragged one of many blankets from the couch, draped it over Bakugou, and joined Lucky by the fire. Bakugou stayed holding on to him even as he sat down. They puddled water onto the floor. Lucky sniffed at them but apparently decided she'd rather stay dry than cuddle, because she laid down again at their side.

Kirishima doubted that Bakugou's clinginess was just from the cold. Kirishima loved all of Bakugou's moods, absolutely including his irritable ones; he loved when Bakugou was snarling and enraged and all but spitting fire; when Bakugou was quiet and serious and focused; when Bakugou was laughing and joking, sharp-tongued and quick-witted; when Bakugou was flustered to the point of being unable to talk properly; and, as Kirishima suspected was now the case, when Bakugou held on to Kirishima as if there were nothing else that mattered, when his heartbeat and his touch did the speaking for him. Bakugou's fingers dug in, his teeth grazing Kirishima's skin as he sucked at Kirishima's throat with indolent, wet kisses that made Kirishima's eyes drift shut and his thoughts blur and fade. He crooked his head away and threaded his fingers into Bakugou's drenched hair as Bakugou slowly, slowly made his way up Kirishima's neck, as if he had all the time in the world; as if Kirishima was the world. Kirishima let out a thoroughly pleased sigh and he felt Bakugou's lips tug into a smile against his throat.

Then he felt Bakugou's smile turn into a grimace and heard him mutter, “I'm still fucking freezing.”

Kirishima chuckled and pried Bakugou off of him. Bakugou squirmed in protest as Kirishima lifted off his soaked undershirt and tossed it closer to the furnace. He didn't even have a chance to kiss Bakugou's chest before his husband adhered to him again, tugging the edges of the blanket tighter around them both. “You're adorable when you're cold,” Kirishima said, nuzzling at his neck.

“You're. A dick.”

“Ouch, babe.”

“We'd better have some fucking hot chocolate or some shit, I swear.” Bakugou curled into him, knees tight against his ribs, toes wriggling under his legs.

Bakugou only ate sweets in winter. Kirishima was more than happy to indulge him. “Hot chocolate mix doesn't go bad, right? I'm sure we have some.” Kirishima rubbed his back in an attempt to both help warm him up and soothe his ruffled feathers. The scars were rough beneath his palms, reminding Kirishima of why they were here in the first place, even if Bakugou had never said it. “I'll make dinner tonight, how's that?”

“You never cook dinner.”

“I do too. You're just so much better at it.”

He felt more than heard Bakugou's snort. “Flatterer.”

“Only 'cause it's true. But I think we left some pancake mix here last time too. How's that sound?”

“Pancakes and hot chocolate.”

“Yep.”

Bakugou relented with a kiss. “Fuck it. Sounds good.”

Kirishima lifted the blanket over their heads and pressed kisses onto Bakugou's shoulder in the shared warmth until his husband finally laughed and pulled his head away. The blanket spilled down and pooled around his shoulders. He was handsome and beautiful and Kirishima knew he would never be over just how lucky he was to have Bakugou as a friend, as a husband. He would never be over just how lucky he was to be able to hold Bakugou in his arms, to laugh with him, to kiss him. He would never be over just how lucky he was that Bakugou was still alive.

He decided, then, that he was going to ensure their makeshift holiday was as good a one as it could possibly be. The further he could get them both from Bakugou's hospital bed a year ago, the better.

Lucky followed them as he carried Bakugou into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. He tested the water and let it run for a while to heat up before reaching over to plug the drain, the simple movement made awkward by Bakugou's refusal to let go of him. “You're not making this easy, babe.”

“Fuck off, I'm fucking cold,” Bakugou growled against his throat.

“Love you too,” Kirishima laughed and tore the blanket away.

“Fuck,” Bakugou repeated, hastily releasing him, “off.” He stripped and sat into the steaming water filling the tub. Chin resting on his knees, arms crossed beneath the water around his shins, he glared up at Kirishima. “You getting in or what.”

“I have pancakes and hot chocolate to make,” Kirishima grinned, and started away.

But Bakugou caught his wrist and pressed a kiss onto Kirishima's tattooed ring, then the back of his hand, then his wrist, pulling him closer until Kirishima was holding on to the edge of the tub for support and continuing to kiss up his forearm and bicep and shoulder and the curve of his neck. Bakugou slipped his free hand beneath Kirishima's damp hair, the other a gentle pressure around his wrist, and pulled back with a self-satisfied smile, eyes searching Kirishima's with a content warmth that manifested in Kirishima's cheeks. “Love you,” he practically purred, and brought their lips together. Kirishima melted into the kiss.

Lucky whined at them.

Kirishima laughed. “What?” Bakugou murmured, a distant smile in his voice. Kirishima tugged himself away from Bakugou with a final, light kiss, and looked at Lucky. She sat by the door and looked back up at them both with puppy eyes. She whined again.

“I think Lucky wants pancakes and hot chocolate, too,” Kirishima mused. Lucky cocked her head at the sound of her name. He wasn't sure if she actually knew the name already or not, but she was a smart dog. He figured she probably did.

“What the fuck did I say about feeding her people food,” Bakugou snorted, unusually unbothered by the reminder of his hearing loss. “Isn't chocolate bad for dogs, anyway?”

“How should I know?” Kirishima chuckled. “Don't worry, I'll give her dog food.”

Bakugou released his wrist and sank deeper into the steaming water until only his narrowed eyes and dangerous grin remained above the surface. “Damn well better.”

Lucky followed Kirishima out into the kitchen. He dug her bowls and food from their bags and filled them, then finally changed out of his still-damp boxers into dry ones. Lucky lapped up her water first, and Kirishima replaced it as she started on her food, then set to preparing dinner for Bakugou and himself. He found the pancake and hot chocolate mix easily enough and, while he'd never call himself a great cook, he could certainly follow instructions, and did so happily, humming to himself as he worked.

Bakugou emerged from the bathroom not long after he'd finished, wearing the fuzzy bathrobe Kirishima had gotten him several years ago, after he'd realized how much Bakugou actually liked soft things. Whether it was clothes or carpeting or their bedsheets, the softer it was, the better, as far as Bakugou was concerned. Not that he ever actually said it, which amused Kirishima to no end. Kirishima didn't have any particular preferences himself as far as textures went, really, so defaulting to Bakugou's unspoken penchant was easy enough. And, as an added bonus, Bakugou looked like a movie star in that bathrobe. Kirishima hadn't seen him in it since the last time they'd been to the cabin. He couldn't help but stare.

“What, you forget how hot I am?” Bakugou smirked at him.

But Kirishima spotted that blush of his as he sat at their small kitchen table. “Never,” Kirishima said, honestly, and gave him a bright smile in response. He pulled the plates from the oven where they'd been keeping warm, set them on the table, poured two mugs of hot chocolate from the pot, and joined his sometimes bewilderingly handsome husband at the table. He dug into the pancakes with a grin and they ate in comfort, easily slipping between brief conversation and a quiet that was only occasionally interrupted with attempts at begging from Lucky. They had no effect on Bakugou, but Kirishima relented and dug through their bags to find Lucky's box of treats and gave her one of those instead. Bakugou and Lucky both accepted the compromise.

Afterwards, Kirishima took Lucky out and gathered more firewood as Bakugou cleaned up, then headed for the bath himself to clean off the lake. He returned to the den in his own bathrobe to find Bakugou lying on the couch under a blanket, awkwardly holding his book above his head so as not to disturb Lucky, curled up and asleep on his chest.

Kirishima quickly snapped a photo. Bakugou scowled at him from beneath the book, but Kirishima just winked at him and pocketed the phone. “Should get that framed,” he joked, realizing as he said it that he should, actually. It would make for a nice addition to the house. As the years went on there were more photos of Bakugou around their home, but it was still an uphill battle to get him to smile in them. Kirishima enjoyed the challenge. And while Bakugou wasn't exactly smiling in this photo, he looked happy. That was more than enough for Kirishima.

Bakugou just rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips tugging up. Kirishima chuckled and joined him, slipping under the blanket at the other end of the couch, tangling their legs together and doing his best to not disturb Lucky. Even so, her eyes opened and he titled her head down at him. Kirishima reached over and scratched under her chin, and she seemed happy enough with that.

“I can't wait 'till you're all healed up and we can take you on adventures,” he said to her. Then, to his husband, “Where should we bring her first?”

“We can take her to the old campsite tomorrow,” Bakugou suggested, propping the book up behind his head. “She's in good enough shape for a walk. I can carry her if she needs it.”

“I can carry her too, you know,” Kirishima pouted. But he loved the idea of visiting their old campsite. Before they'd had the cabin built, they'd had their campsite, which they'd used even before they'd gotten married. They'd built a lot of good memories together there, and when they'd finally decided to get a cabin for themselves there was really no debating where it would be. While the cabin wasn't in exactly the same spot, it was close enough, and they'd been able to buy the entire stretch of land, anyway. Being popular pro heroes paid well.

Bakugou nudged him from under the blanket. “You don't wear enough fuckin' clothes. She'd get cold if you carried her.”

Kirishima laughed as they slipped into their familiar pattern. “You just wish you had my cold weather resistance.”

“Says the guy who whines about getting sweaty in the summer.”

“You shouldn't get sweaty just from walking outside, babe. It's not decent.”

“The more sweat, the better to blow shit up with,” Bakugou grinned.

“Yeah, well, excuse me for not having a gross quirk like yours,” Kirishima teased.

“You never bitch about my fucking awesome quirk when you insist on holding my hand all the damn time.”

“Maybe I should. Keep you humble.”

“Fuck off, you love my ego.”

Kirishima's laughter faded into a pleasant, comfortable heat in his chest. “Yeah,” he agreed, entirely earnest, and stretched out the hand that wasn't busy rubbing Lucky's face, offering it to his husband. “Yeah, I do.”

Bakugou's sharp smile faded, replaced by something gentle. He let the book drop to the floor and gathered Kirishima's hand into his own, the other joining him in petting their dog. She seemed more than pleased at the pats, and they lulled into a quiet joy at simply lying together on the couch of their cabin, holding hands, full and warm as the snow drifted down outside, doting attention on the new member of their family.

“Thanks for dinner,” Bakugou murmured.

Kirishima beamed at him. “Anything for you,” he replied, still fully sincere. There wasn't a single thing in the world Kirishima wouldn't do for Bakugou. It was just the truth, and a truth that he was perfectly happy with. It was a truth that had existed even before they'd gotten married, that had solidified into a solid, tangible fact nearly a year ago, when Kirishima had thought he was going to lose Bakugou. And even though it was something so simple as honesty Kirishima still adored the effect that the reminder had on Bakugou. He adored the wash of red that seeped up Bakugou's face, adored the way he looked down from Kirishima's eyes for a moment before refocusing on him with an intensity that brought a blush to his own face, adored the way Bakugou's hand tightened around his, adored the smile that he didn't try to hide, that made him look almost vulnerable, adored the way the sight made his own heart swell in his chest. He adored the effect because he knew that Bakugou was well aware of the fact; because he knew that Bakugou would do the same for him.

Tomorrow and it would be a year.

Kirishima swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I love you, Katsuki,” he said.

“Love you too, Eijirou.”

They stayed on the couch together for a while longer.

Kirishima took Lucky out again as they prepared for bed. The snow had picked up and Kirishima could hardly see the trees or the lake for the dark and the swirling white. Trekking through what built up tomorrow would be fun, and listening to Bakugou complain about it would be even more so. Kirishima grinned at the thought as he gathered one final stack of firewood for the night. Lucky hurried back into the cabin before Kirishima had even made it back from the woodshed. He chuckled at her and followed her inside. She sat by the furnace as Kirishima topped it off, then trailed him into the bedroom, where Bakugou had set her bed up at the foot of their own. She settled into it and Kirishima gave her a goodnight pat on the head before joining Bakugou under the flannel sheets and heavy blankets.

Bakugou was sitting up, book open in his lap, chin in one hand. But Kirishima could see that his eyes were unfocused, his thumb tracing the scars on his face.

“Katsuki?”

Bakugou's thumb stilled, but his gaze remained distant, reading the white of the pages.

Kirishima reached over and tugged the hand from his face. It came away limp in Kirishima's grasp. But he blinked, his eyes finally finding Kirishima's. “Hey,” he said, but his voice was drifting smoke, absent and hazy.

A year wasn't a very long time.

Bakugou had taken a while to adjust to his scars. Kirishima wouldn't say he was insecure about them, by any means, but rather that he seemed to forget they were there, sometimes, and when he was reminded of them he'd react as if finding a stray fleck of paint or an accidental pen mark. He'd reach over to wipe the scars away and then pause once his mind caught up with his instincts. Kirishima figured it was just the process of updating his mental image of himself. But Kirishima thought that process had finally finished, that Bakugou had completed that particular stage of healing.

And maybe it had. Maybe Bakugou was just remembering. And maybe remembering was important; Kirishima didn't know. But he didn't want that particular memory to be the one on Bakugou's mind as he fell asleep tonight.

Kirishima pressed a kiss onto Bakugou's palm. The gesture brought a ghost of a smile to Bakugou's face, so Kirishima repeated the gesture again and again, until the smile and Bakugou himself because more present, until he laughed and said in his usual voice, “You're gonna get your face blown up if you keep that up.”

“I can handle it,” Kirishima replied dismissively, grinning up at him. Bakugou had, in fact, accidentally loosed explosions on his face, and the rest of him, on far more than one occasion in the past, and each time Kirishima had just activated his own quirk in response. Their quirks balanced each other out just as well as their personalities did.

Bakugou set the book aside, flicked off the lights, and slunk down under the covers. His hand shifted from Kirishima's mouth to his cheek. “I missed this place,” he admitted.

“It's a good place, babe,” Kirishima chuckled. “We should come up here again every season. Lucky'll love it.”

“Fuck yeah she will,” Bakugou grinned. “And soon she'll be healthy enough to run around the mountain as much as she wants.”

Kirishima smiled at the thought and pulled Bakugou into a hug. They kissed with a slow, sleepy tenderness and drifted off in each other's arms.

If Lucky could recover, so could they.

Chapter Text

Kirishima woke up three times that night.

First was when Bakugou tore from his side, drenched in sweat and breathing with a wild terror, clawing at the twisted sheets in an effort to free himself from their confinement. Kirishima helped untangle him, murmuring soft soothing nothings until Bakugou remembered that he wasn't trapped, that he hadn't been trapped in a long time. Lucky whimpered from the foot of the bed.

Second was when Bakugou shot up, palms out and ready to fire, searching for enemies that weren't there until Kirishima took his smoking hands into his hardened ones and held them, massaging out the sparks. Lucky pawed at the mattress, head poking over the edge. Kirishima patted her once Bakugou had laid down and closed his eyes, then returned to his husband.

Third was when Lucky whined as Bakugou slumped out of the bed onto the floor, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Kirishima leaned over the bed and stroked his hair, feathering kisses against his scalp. Lucky settled into the space between Bakugou's legs and pressed her nose into the crook of his elbow, pawing at him until he put his arms around her. Lucky only returned to her bed once Bakugou had stopped shaking and was safe in Kirishima's embrace again.

When the morning sun was just starting to filter through the windows, Kirishima crept out of bed and into the kitchen. Bakugou and he had made it through the night and Kirishima was determined to ensure that this morning was a good one, to ensure that Bakugou thought about something other than what day it was for as long as Kirishima could manage. It took some searching, but he managed to find all of the ingredients he was looking for between what little they'd brought and what they had stored.

He cooked quietly, doing his best to keep from making any noise that might wake his sleeping husband. But he did hear a muffled whine and went to collect Lucky, although rather than heading for the front door, she just wobbled over and settled in front of the furnace. In the bedroom, Bakugou was still nestled under the blankets, buried up to the chin, eyes closed and mouth open. It was always nice to see him sleeping well, not only for the earlier nightmares but also just because Kirishima thought that he was a remarkably cute sleeper. Kirishima closed the door again as gently as he could.

Lucky watched him as he neared the end of the breakfast preparations. She lifted her head and wagged her tail every time Kirishima looked over at her. He picked the smallest piece of the strips of steak cooling on the cutting board and brought it over to Lucky, a finger at his lips. “Ssh,” he whispered. “Don't tell Katsuki, okay? It'll be our secret.” She was a very good dog, after all. She deserved a bit of steak.

She wolfed down the piece of steak in one bite, tail wags accelerating. Kirishima would have sworn he saw her smile. He patted her on the head and winked, checked that her dishes were full, then washed his hands and finished up, stacking plates on two trays and pouring two mugs of coffee, one black, one with milk and sugar. He crept into the bedroom and set the first tray on Bakugou's side table, then retrieved his own and brought it in as well. He left the door open for Lucky to join them if she felt like leaving the warmth of the furnace, then snuck back under the blankets- those that Bakugou hadn't already claimed.

Kirishima leaned over and kissed Bakugou on the nose. It wrinkled in response and Kirishima kissed him on the forehead, then the cheeks, then beamed at him as his eyelids fluttered open. Bakugou looked up at Kirishima, a fuzzy smile waking on his face. He shifted closer in to Kirishima and Kirishima kissed him again, trailing his lips across Bakugou's jaw, down his neck, to his collarbone, then back up to his grinning mouth. Kirishima rolled over so that he was on top of Bakugou, propping himself up by the elbow on Bakugou's opposite side, fingers tracing his cheek. Bakugou stretched up into him, discarding his blanket armour in favour of hugging his husband and holding him tight for a long, languid kiss.

“Morning,” he mumbled against Kirishima's lips.

“Good morning, babe,” Kirishima replied, thoroughly pleased, enjoying the warmth and tranquility. “I made breakfast.”

Bakugou pulled away, pressing himself back into the mattress and staring at Kirishima, fully awake by now. “You fucking didn't.”

“I did.”

Bakugou turned away to look at the tray on his side table and his peaceful smile split into a fierce grin. “Fuck. Yes. That smells fucking fantastic what the fuck.”

Kirishima couldn't help but giggle at the reaction. “Hope you like it.”

“Of course I fucking will you fucking cooked me breakfast you fucking... you fucking cute fucker.” Kirishima rolled off of him, laughing. He enjoyed making breakfast in bed for Bakugou not only for how happy it made him, but also for how delightfully poorly he expressed just how happy it made him. Bakugou quickly shuffled back so he was sitting against the pillows, grabbed Kirishima by the face, and kissed him with such haste and intensity that their teeth clicked together and Kirishima nearly forgot how to breathe. Maybe Bakugou's expression of this particular pleasure wasn't quite so bad after all.

Once he was satisfied with their kiss, Bakugou pulled his tray onto his lap, careful not to spill the coffee, and grinned at the food, then at Kirishima. Kirishima settled in beside him, well aware of the red heat across his face. Bakugou's grin slipped into a satisfied smirk. “You're fucking gorgeous,” he said in a low hum that Kirishima felt in his gut.

“Should bring you breakfast in bed more often,” Kirishima joked back, hiding his lovestruck smile as he sipped at his coffee.

Bakugou let him drink, then put a hand atop Kirishima's and lowered the mug. “Thank you,” he said with a firmness that let Kirishima know he wasn't just talking about the breakfast.

“You're welcome.” Kirishima kissed Bakugou on the nose again, making his serious expression dissolve into an easy smile. “Eat your breakfast.”

He did, enthusiastically. Although Kirishima suspected that he could have just made pancakes again and his husband would have been just as happy.

They stayed in bed for a while after they'd finished, both reluctant to leave the content comfort. Lucky returned from the den and hopped up atop the mattress with them. Bakugou stared at their dog. “When the fuck did you get better enough to do that?” he demanded.

Lucky just tilted her head in response and wagged her tail, then padded her way over their blanketed bodies to cuddle up in the warmth between them. Bakugou and Kirishima both immediately set to playing with her. She rolled onto her back, tail waggling. “Good girl,” Kirishima laughed, rubbing her belly. “Guess she doesn't need to be carried everywhere after all, huh?”

Bakugou snorted. “Just 'cause she can jump up on the bed doesn't mean she won't want to be carried once in a while. She's still healing.”

“You just like carrying her, don't you.”

Bakugou just grinned at him, not even attempting to deny it, and when they geared up for their trip to their old campsite, Bakugou lifted her into his arms again. He was in his usual thousands of layers and almost immediately set to complaining about how cold it was. Kirishima double checked that they had what they needed and closed up the cabin behind them and they trekked out into the snow. The drifts were piled high on the ground and atop the boughs of the trees surrounding them. Sparkles scattered across the surface here and there when the sun slipped out from behind the clouds.

There was no path to the campsite, but Kirishima and Bakugou both knew the way by heart. They trudged through the snow and under the trees. Kirishima took pictures of everything, hoping to catch one of his husband smiling. But Bakugou kept his face buried in his scarf; Kirishima wasn't sure whether it was to hide from the cold or to hide from the camera, but found it endearing either way. Bakugou grumbled at him and held Lucky, cozily nestled in her blanket, close to his chest. Even if the photos didn't include Bakugou's face, at least they showed that.

“Why the fuck is it so cold,” Bakugou groaned.

“It was your idea to come out here today, babe,” Kirishima laughed. “You had to know it was going to be a long, cold walk.”

“Should just fly us over,” he growled into his scarf.

“Explosions are probably bad for dogs.” They were bad enough for humans, after all.

Bakugou sighed, looking down at Lucky, peeking out from her blanket. “Yeah, I guess.”

Kirishima had a better idea, anyway. “Race you to the creek?”

“I have a fucking dog in my hands, Eijirou.”

“Then let her race too, she'll probably beat both of us anyway.”

Bakugou groaned again. Kirishima laughed. “C'mon, babe!” He gave a shark-toothed grin. “It'll warm you up.”

“The cold'll fucking freeze my lungs.”

Kirishima leaned over Lucky and tugged down Bakugou's scarf to kiss his husband. He waited for Bakugou to relax into the gesture and open his lips, then breathed a puff of warm air into his mouth. Kirishima pulled back with a smirk of his own. “I'll warm them up again after.” The red already in Bakugou's cheeks darkened. Kirishima laughed.

“You're on,” Bakugou snarled, scowling.

Kirishima took off running. Bakugou roared obscenities after him and he had to stifle his laughter so that it didn't slow him down. He glanced back to see Lucky and Bakugou in close pursuit, Lucky's blanket in Bakugou's fist and fury on his face. Kirishima's cheated head start didn't last too long, however, and soon Bakugou was sprinting just behind him. Kirishima ran directly through the snow while Bakugou ran almost in leaps, trying to clear the snow as best he could. The frozen air stabbed at Kirishima's lungs with every breath. He ignored it, focusing instead on following his mental map of their route as quickly as he could. He soon got to the point where he thought they'd be coming up on the creek, but it remained out of sight. Kirishima had to wonder if they'd made a wrong turn somewhere after all.

Then Bakugou jerked to a stop. “Wait-” Kirishima turned his head just in time to see Bakugou reach out and grab his arm. But his weight was already on its way down, and Kirishima's step fell out from under him with a crack. Icy water flooded his boot and he hardened his leg just in time to avoid a twisted ankle as his foot made contact with the bed of the frozen creek. Bakugou yanked him back out of the water. He stumbled back and sat into the snow, the shock of cold shooting up his skeleton and into the marrow of his bones. “Oh, wow, that's...” Kirishima looked from his soaked boot to the snow-covered frozen creek, then up at his husband, frowning down at him. Kirishima wasn't sure whether his lungs or his leg were suffering more from the temperature. “That's... really cold.”

“Like I've been fucking telling you,” Bakugou wheezed, reaching up for his scarf and grumbling under his breath, “Fuck my lungs, why the fuck did I agree to run in this fucking weather.” Bakugou crouched down and lifted Kirishima's wet boot from the snow. As he unlaced it, Lucky trotted up beside them and nuzzled at Kirishima's face.

“Hey Lucky,” Kirishima said, managing a smile despite feeling as if he'd filled his lungs with ice cubes and coated his leg in frost. Usually he didn't mind cold, sure, but this was a bit excessive even for him. Lucky crawled into his lap. She was very warm, so Kirishima didn't mind. He wouldn't have minded regardless, of course; her being warm was really just an added bonus. Bakugou yanked off Kirishima's boot, then his waterlogged sock. While Kirishima cuddled their dog, Bakugou dried off his Kirishima's leg with his scarf, then wrapped it around as a makeshift sock and furiously rubbed at the leg to thaw his frozen blood. Kirishima hugged Lucky as Bakugou worked. “So I won, right?”

Bakugou glared at him.

Kirishima laughed. “I mean, I got to the creek first.”

“Does falling in really count?”

“Well it's like crossing the finish line, really, isn't it?”

“Congratulations, you won a cold foot.” Bakugou shoved Kirishima's leg back at him. Kirishima awkwardly held it up out of the snow while Bakugou switched his attention to the boot, sticking his hand inside and releasing minuscule, crackling explosions. Enough to singe the lining, probably, but not enough to do any real damage. Lucky's ears perked up at the muffled sound and let out a whine. Kirishima patted her reassuringly, but she seemed more curious than concerned. Although Kirishima knew he couldn't hear her, Bakugou eyed Lucky's tilted head and raised ears. He turned the opening of the boot further away from her and Kirishima, but kept up the process. “You want to go back to the cabin?”

“No way,” Kirishima protested. He reached over Lucky and massaged his scarfed leg, flexing the toes underneath. “We're nearly there, and you're taking such good care of me.”

Bakugou's frown shifted into a wry smile. “Damn right I am.”

“Not sure what I did to deserve such a caring husband,” Kirishima grinned.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at him, clearly well aware of what Kirishima was doing. “Breakfast in bed's always good,” he smirked. “And you put up with my shit.” He tested the inside of the boot with his other hand, shrugged slightly, and held out a hand for Kirishima's foot. Kirishima dropped his ankle into Bakugou's palm and waved his toes at him. “You always figure out what the right thing to do is, and you just fucking do it. You don't let dumb shit hold you back. You're a fucking great hero, and you're strong and smart. Patient, too.” He slipped the boot back onto Kirishima's foot. It was perfectly warm and cozy inside, as if Bakugou had taken longer than needed just to heat it up rather than just dry it off. “And you're the best person I've ever known.” He laced up the boot again, fingers nimble despite the gloves, then set Kirishima's leg down and looked up at him, expression entirely and unusually earnest. He spoke with an instinctive conviction, as if stating fundamental facts long since memorized. “You're perfect.”

Kirishima was manly enough to admit when he'd lost. If Bakugou had been trying to warm him up by making him blush, it had definitely worked. “I changed my mind, you win,” he managed.

Bakugou's intense expression softened, but remained just as sincere. “You married me. I already won.”

Kirishima stared at his husband, lost in his eyes, his words, his love. He tried and failed to get his mouth to work, to say something. Kirishima would have been surprised if his face wasn't steaming in the cold.

“Come on.” Bakugou patted Lucky on the head and stood. Licking at his gloved fingers, Lucky followed suit, freeing Kirishima. Bakugou held out a hand and Kirishima took it, of course; he would never not take Bakugou's hand. Bakugou helped him stand again. Once he was on his feet, Kirishima wrapped him in a hug and kissed him, their lips meeting and parting with a comfortable rhythm and in familiar patterns, as natural as breathing.

Bakugou was smiling his quiet smile at him when he finally pulled away. Kirishima's heart felt full and heavy and tender and he couldn't resist kissing his husband again, a quick press on the cheek. Bakugou chuckled, sounding satisfied and relaxed. “What was that for?”

“Told you I'd warm you up after the race, right?”

Bakugou squeezed his hand before letting go. “I'd say you did a good job of that.” He reached down and scooped up Lucky again, waiting patiently at their feet, and wrapped her in her blanket. She snuggled into his chest.

They walked the rest of the way.

Their old campsite was buried under snow, a small bump of a hill among the trees. A single especially large tree grew at the top of the hill, reaching skyward, massive and powerful and comforting. Just seeing the old tree was enough to evoke a wash of nostalgia. This was where they'd set up their camp, the first time Bakugou had invited him out to the mountains back when they were still in school. And this was where they'd continued to set up camp for the times after. They'd tried a few other spots, but nowhere else had quite the same feeling to it. Part of why they'd built the cabin elsewhere was simply because neither of them could quite bring themselves to disturb the campsite so much.

Kirishima headed up the hill, Bakugou trailing just behind, and patted the trunk with one hand. It was like greeting an old friend; he and Bakugou had spent a lot of time with that tree, sleeping in its shade, climbing up its dozens of branches. Falling from its dozens of branches too, of course, but that was just part of the fun. Over the years the tree had been home to birds' nests and families of squirrels and two boys growing into two men, falling further in love. During spring, the tree grew what seemed to be an endless supply of pink and red flowers that Kirishima had taught himself to tie into bracelets and crowns, which he had managed to convince Bakugou to wear every time; during autumn, the leaves changed into their favourite colours and stacked up on the ground in piles high enough to hide in, which had served as excellent cushioning for their wrestling. But at this point in winter, its bare boughs appeared devoid of life. Even so, it was still a welcome sight; it was still good to be back.

Bakugou set Lucky down and tossed her blanket on one shoulder. He looked up at Kirishima and the tree with a softness that made Kirishima melt. Lucky trotted over to Kirishima and Bakugou followed. They watched a moment, smiling, as Lucky sniffed at the few gnarled roots peering out from beneath the snow. “Feels like home,” Bakugou murmured, hand covering Kirishima's on the tree trunk, fingers sliding between his. He looked up at the branches with a gentle smile.

“Everywhere feels like home with you, Katsuki,” Kirishima murmured. When Bakugou turned to face him, Kirishima kissed him again. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Bakugou said with ease. He tugged away with a blush and added, softly, “Hold on to Lucky while I make a fire.”

Kirishima hummed in satisfied agreement, watching him for a moment as he headed for the spot of their usual campfire, then found Lucky rolling in the snow between two of the tree's taller roots. She looked remarkably happy for a dog that had been nearly dead a few weeks ago. She set a good example for them. “Making snow angels, huh?” Kirishima grinned at her. She whined and wagged her tail at him, lying on her back on the ground. Kirishima crouched down to reward her artistic efforts with belly rubs.

Her ears perked up at the snapping sound of Bakugou's controlled, small-scale blasts, but either they were quiet enough not to bother her or Kirishima's attention was enough to keep her distracted. Kirishima kept playing with her until Bakugou called them over. Bakugou had melted the snow surrounding the fire pit and had stacked up enough wood and kindling to produce a bright yellow fire, crackling and hot. Kirishima slipped off his backpack and set up the picnic blanket on the explosion-dried patch of earth before the fire. Then he dug the bright red ball they'd bought at the pet store from the bottom of the bag and held it up to Bakugou, who was doing his best to leech warmth from the flames. “Think she's alright to play some fetch?”

Bakugou smirked at him. “Let's find out.”

Kirishima held out the ball to Lucky, sitting beside him. She sniffed at it and cocked her head at him. But her whole head turned to track the ball when Kirishima moved it back and forth. “What's this?” Kirishima said in his best excited voice. Lucky whined at him, eyes on the toy, pawing at the ground. Kirishima tossed the ball. “Go fetch!”

Lucky bolted before the words had finished leaving Kirishima's mouth. She crashed through the snow and retrieved the ball, returning it barely worse for wear to Kirishima's hand. “Good girl! Good girl Lucky,” he cooed, rubbing her adorable happy face. He beamed up at Bakugou, grinning beside the fire.

They played fetch with Lucky for what felt like hours. Sometimes Lucky was able to snatch the ball from the air; other times it soared past her and she had to go digging through the snow for ten minutes before rediscovering the toy. Sometimes she returned the ball to its thrower immediately; other times she made them work for it a bit. But even when they played makeshift tug-of-war with the ball, she didn't growl at them, just wagged her tail and continued playing. By the time she plopped down on the picnic blanket, the ball was covered in slobber and riddled with teeth marks. Bakugou and Kirishima doted on her as she rested.

Kirishima set up Lucky's food and water as Bakugou readied their own meal. They cooked it together with the fire and Kirishima's quirk and the three of them sat and ate in a cozy peace. Lucky whined a bit, but Kirishima refused to give in, this time. She'd already gotten steak today, after all. But he did sneak her a dog treat after they'd all finished eating, once Bakugou stretched out on the picnic blanket and closed his eyes. Lucky devoured the treat in one bite, then went to nudge at Bakugou, trying to lick his face. He blocked her and squirmed away, protesting between laughs. Kirishima, delighted, took photos rather than helping.

Eventually, Bakugou and Lucky reached an agreement. Lucky laid down atop Bakugou's waist and Bakugou pet her with one hand. “Why do I feel like I'm more fuckin' tired than Lucky after all that fetch?” Bakugou asked, covering his eyes with his elbow.

“Because she's a puppy and you're old.”

“Fuck off, she's not a puppy and I'm not old.”

“We've been over this, babe, all dogs are puppies. And yes you are.”

Bakugou peeked open an eye to glare at him. “If I'm old then so are you.”

Kirishima shrugged, chuckling. “There's worse things to be.”

“Yeah, like what?”

Like being in the hospital. Like Bakugou being nearly killed by his own quirk. Like being told by the doctors that Bakugou might not make it. “Like being in denial about being old,” he said instead, teasing.

Bakugou snorted, shifting his arm underneath his head like a pillow, the other still scratching between Lucky's ears. “Point.”

“And being old's not so bad. We've got a house, a cabin, a dog...”

“And s'mores.”

Kirishima grinned. He didn't need to be told twice. He dug through the bag again, withdrawing the needed supplies, then waved them at Bakugou. “And s'mores!”

Bakugou chuckled. He propped himself up on his elbow, sitting back so as not to disturb Lucky, and readied the graham crackers and chocolate. “These aren't for you,” he muttered to Lucky, keeping a wary eye on her. She just looked up at him and wagged her tail. He relented with more head pats and she dozed off under his care. Meanwhile, Kirishima took two handful of marshmallows, activated his quirk, and held his hands in the fire until the marshmallows browned, then pulled one hand out and left the other in until those marshmallows had blackened. Bakugou assembled his s'mores from the charred handful; Kirishima waited until that hand was free before putting together his own. They ate them while the marshmallows were still hot.

Kirishima leaned in for a kiss and Bakugou popped a fresh marshmallow from the bag into Kirishima's mouth, making him laugh. He ate the marshmallow as Bakugou smirked at him, then Bakugou draped his arm across Kirishima's shoulders and pulled him in. “At least I'm old with you,” he murmured, lips brushing Kirishima's.

Kirishima's heart swelled. He kissed his husband slowly, savouring the feeling, the process, the warmth. Savouring the way Bakugou's lips parted and pressed into his, the way Bakugou's gloved fingers held on to him through his jacket, the way he couldn't tell if the warmth spreading through his veins was from the fire or the kiss itself.

They waited until the campfire had burned out to start packing up. Lucky was still napping, so Bakugou covered her in her blanket and lifted her into his arms while Kirishima piled first dirt and then snow atop the ashes. They stopped by the tree again. “I wonder if that scorch mark is still there,” Kirishima mused, peering up at the branches.

The line of Bakugou's mouth thinned. “Doubt it.”

Kirishima grinned at him, easily recognizing his embarrassment. The two of them had climbed up the branches years ago, during one of their early camping trips together, and had sat up there as the sun set. Kirishima had kissed Bakugou on the cheek; Bakugou had let out an unintentional explosion onto the trunk of the tree where his hand had been. “I bet it is,” Kirishima teased, enjoying how easy it was to make his husband blush. “Want me to go check?”

“You already fell into the creek today, I don't need you falling from the tree, too,” Bakugou grumbled and started off. Kirishima laughed and followed. They took their time walking home, avoiding the creek this time. Lucky woke up on the way and wriggled out of Bakugou's arms to trot alongside them.

Once back at the cabin, they took turns playing with Lucky as the other bathed. Kirishima came out of the bathroom to find Bakugou sitting crosslegged on the floor, intently inspecting Lucky's paws. She licked at the backs of his hands but otherwise didn't seem to mind. Kirishima was almost worried for a moment, until Bakugou held up one of Lucky's paws to Kirishima. “Look at how fucking soft her feet are,” he said, awed. He gently squished his thumb into the pad of her foot, then demanded of her, “How are your feet this soft.”

Lucky wagged her tail in response.

Kirishima sat down beside his husband, greeting him with a kiss and Lucky with a pat on the head. He warily poked at Lucky's foot. Bakugou was right. “Because she's a good girl,” Kirishima cooed, happy with not only how soft her paws were, but also how healthy she looked. “A good girl with good soft paws.”

Bakugou laughed. Later, he cooked dinner and he and Kirishima ate on the couch. They curled up together under the blanket and played on their handhelds, Lucky sprawled out across both of their laps. Every time Bakugou grumbled at his game, Lucky distracted him by nudging his arm with her head. Both he and Kirishima took regular breaks from their games to pet her, until she dozed off once more. Eventually, Kirishima found himself starting to drift off as well, eyelids drooping. He closed his handheld and forced his eyes open. “Babe,” he mumbled into Bakugou's shoulder. “Let's go to bed.”

Bakugou kissed his his forehead, light and repetitive, as if he were considering the request, and it took all of Kirishima's effort to not just fall asleep there. “Okay,” Bakugou agreed, setting his game aside, but to Kirishima, he sounded almost hesitant. “Wait there.” He shifted Kirishima off his shoulder and carried Lucky to her dog bed, then returned to the couch for Kirishima, doing his best to stay awake. Kirishima circled his arms around Bakugou's neck as Bakugou carried him to bed.

“I love you,” Kirishima murmured into their embrace once they were both settled under the covers. He was intensely glad with how well the day had gone. It was a far stretch from how the day had gone, last year.

Bakugou kissed him again. “Love you too,” he said, and the words floated Kirishima along into sleep.

Kirishima dreamt of an odorless gas bursting into flames, of an explosion far larger than it should have been, of an inferno burning the air from his lungs, of a building crashing down, of a hospital; he dreamt of a paralyzing dread seeping into his blood and thinning his bones and stealing his breath; he dreamt of a terror like a solid lead weight in his gut holding him in place and bleeding poison into his intestines.

He dreamt of the love of his life dying.

He woke with an overwhelming helplessness to Lucky, whining and licking his face. He blinked the sleep and confusion and sadness away and managed a cough of a laugh. Lucky kept licking him until he pulled back and scooted up into a sit. “What?” he mumbled blearily, doing his best to ignore the way his chest felt too tight, the way he felt like he needed to sit in the dark and cry for twenty minutes. She whined in response, licking at his hands. “Good thing she's housetrained, huh, babe?” He looked over and paused, realizing that Bakugou wasn't in bed beside him.

Lucky whined again.

“Okay,” Kirishima pushed the blankets aside and Lucky whimpered at him. He picked her up and set her on the floor. “Why didn't you go ask Katsuki to take you out?” he murmured, yawning, and stumbled his way over to the door.

Bakugou wasn't in the den, either.

“Katsuki?”

There was no response. Kirishima pushed down an instinctive wave of panic. It didn't work especially well. He remembered the hospital, again, remembered the hours and days of waiting, remembered the way his hope had stretched and thinned until there was nothing left but a crushing desperation that made it difficult to talk, to think, to breathe.

Lucky hurried to the front door and whimpered at him. Kirishima followed after and opened the door. She immediately started into the dark, wading out through the tall snow.

The snowfall had stopped, but the night sky was blanketed in thick grey clouds and the cold air cut straight into Kirishima's sternum, frosting over the insides of his lungs. He grabbed his coat from the floor, noting with a persistent and thorough discomfort that Bakugou's gear was still in the pile, stepped into his boots, and followed Lucky out. The muffled moonlight was enough to see by, if only barely. Kirishima trailed Lucky's tracks until he reached the start of the dock. He was close enough, now, to see Bakugou's bare back turned towards him as he sat facing the lake at the dock's edge, elbows on his knees, wearing nothing but his boxers in the snow.

Lucky had reached him already. She nudged at his leg. It took him a moment to respond, but Kirishima watched with his aching heart in his throat as Bakugou's leg stretched out and his arm lifted and Lucky stepped over his leg into his lap. He felt an echo of that helplessness which he'd been confronted with before but pushed it aside. He hadn't been able help with Bakugou's physical recovery. But he could always help with this.

Kirishima moved closer. Lucky pushed up into Bakugou's arms and nuzzled at the side of his face.

Kirishima set a hand on his scarred back. He was far too still and far too cold. “Katsuki?” Bakugou looked up towards him. His eyes were clear, but were almost overly focused, staring off at something just to Kirishima's side rather than Kirishima himself. “Babe? How long have you been out here?”

Bakugou replied with a delayed shrug. His eyes fell to the dog in his lap. She wriggled and pawed at his chest. He slowly moved his hands to lift her from the dock and into his arms.

Kirishima pulled off his jacket and draped it over Bakugou's shoulders, then sat beside him. He reached out an arm and rubbed Bakugou's back in an effort to both reassure him and to warm him up. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.” Bakugou's voice was flat and small in the open air. His hands patted Lucky in a gesture almost mirroring of Kirishima's. But he talked anyway, forcing the words out with the same effort most people would put into climbing a mountain. “Was too hot inside. Felt like I was burning. When I woke up I couldn't breathe, I just...” He let out a quiet huff, visible in the cold, and hunched forward, as if in an effort to either shelter Lucky or hide himself. “Fuck. Must've freaked you out.”

“Yeah.”

Lucky slowly stopped whining, stopped squirming. She settled into Bakugou's arms and licked at his his arms as he pet her.

“Sorry.”

Kirishima pulled him closer and kissed him through his hair. “It's okay.”

“No, it's not,” Bakugou growled. “I shouldn't be doing shit like this. Making you worry about me.”

“I'd worry about you no matter what you did, Katsuki.” And he did, and he had, for many years, and doubted he ever wouldn't. “It's just what I do.”

Bakugou snorted, but leaned into him. Kirishima's free hand joined Bakugou's in petting Lucky. “Fucked this up, didn't I,” he bit out, his voice a sharp opposite to the gentle way his fingers ran over their dog's fur. “Figured I'd bring you out here to make you feel better 'cause you've been so fucking stressed about this stupid day and here you are taking care of me instead.”

“Katsuki,” Kirishima sighed. He rested his head against Bakugou's. Bakugou's temper had cooled considerably since their high school days, but when he got angry at something, that anger stayed and simmered. Even if, especially if, that something was himself. “There's nothing you need to apologize for. Or be angry about. Yeah, I was scared when I didn't know where you were. Yeah, I've been stressed about today. And, yeah, I dreamt about it, too.” He kissed Bakugou again. “But, look. We always take care of each other. Always have. And you're here, right? You're still here. I still have you. What more could I ever want?”

Bakugou didn't reply.

Kirishima lifted his hand from Lucky and offered it out, palm up.

Bakugou's fingers threaded in between his and held on, tight.

The clouds shifted, allowing more moonlight to stream through. It shimmered on the surface of the lake like scattered crystal.

Kirishima hummed softly, then started to sing, his breath coming away as faint ghosts in the air. It was romantic and peaceful and, as Bakugou always claimed, sappy. It was a quiet song, one Kirishima had used to sing back when they'd first started dating. He'd sung it for their first anniversary together as a couple, two teens sitting together in his dorm room after Bakugou had, grumbling and blushing and trying and failing to pretend he didn't care, brought him out to dinner. That night had been the first time Kirishima had been able to convince Bakugou to dance with him. He'd sung it again for the first anniversary of their marriage, starting on the way back from their date night out, serenading him as they danced around their home, the same home as they still had now. Bakugou's dancing had improved significantly in the time between those anniversaries, and he'd long since stopped pretending at apathy. And Kirishima sang it again now, for the first anniversary of the closest either of them had ever come to death, and, he hoped, the closest either of them ever would for as long a time as possible.

Kirishima stood, tugging Bakugou along with him. Bakugou set Lucky on the snow and complied, his eyes flickering with something beginning to approach their usual fire, once more focused on Kirishima's, a faint smile dawning on his face at the recognition of the song. Kirishima kept singing as his empty hand found its way to the small of Bakugou's back, as Bakugou's found its way into Kirishima's hair, as Kirishima's jacket began to slip from Bakugou's shoulders. As he sang and as they danced Kirishima felt more secure, more present. Bakugou was alive and well and in his arms. They were a long way and a long time from the incident and the hospital. They'd made it this far. They'd make it further. They were safe and in love and that made everything okay. The tension in Kirishima's chest loosened as Bakugou pressed against it, the coils around his heart dissipating as he felt Bakugou's heartbeat drum steady against him, felt Bakugou's hand reassuring and strong in his.

Kirishima kept singing as they slow danced in swaying circles in the snow and under the stars.

Lucky followed them, hopping through the piles of snow left unmarred around their feet, tail wagging. Kirishima smiled as he sang and leaned in for a kiss, the song trailing into silence as Bakugou responded. It started simple, chaste, as slow and quiet as their dance. But as their dance stilled and stopped, Kirishima poured everything he could into the kiss. He poured in his pride at the fact that Bakugou was his, that he was Bakugou's, always and forever; that they'd both put so much of themselves into each other and their relationship and their life; that they were both happy with who they were together and with what they'd accomplished; for Bakugou and everything he was and everything he strove to be. He poured in his gratitude for his husband's life, for his husband simply being his husband, for having another year with him, for not having lost him after all.

But mostly Kirishima just tried to convey all the infinite ways in which he loved Bakugou.

When they parted, their breath mingled in the cold between them. Bakugou smiled at him, pink to the tips of his ears. He lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that had welled up at the corners of Kirishima's eyes. Kirishima didn't try to swallow down the emotions, didn't try to hide any of what Bakugou already knew. Bakugou's fingers lingered on Kirishima's face. “I love you, Eijirou.”

Kirishima brushed his lips onto his husband's cold, blushing cheek. “I love you too, Katsuki.”

The snow started again, drifting down in leisurely, soft flakes. Lucky crawled atop their feet and whined up at them, wagging her tail. Kirishima and Bakugou both looked down and chuckled in unison.

“Come on,” Kirishima murmured. “Let's go inside.”

Bakugou squeezed Kirishima's hand and Kirishima led his family back into the cabin.

They slept well.