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Ever since Kaminari and Sero started dating, they couldn’t seem to fucking stop clinging onto one another every second of every day.
He glared a them from across the room, how Sero was sitting on Kaminari’s lap, completely ignoring both Iida’s remarks and wild, stiff hand movements, and the fiery, toxic scowl on Bakugou’s face.
Bakugou had heard the story, unwillingly, of how the got together one too many times.
“It was romantic.”
“It was so, so lame and embarrassing--”
“No!” Sero cut Kaminari off with a hand over his face, a devious, lovesick grin that had Bakugou wrinkling his nose. “It was adorable. ” Kaminari’s face was red beneath Sero’s hand, leaning back on Bakugou’s bed like he owned the place, arms crossed. “It was stupid. ”
“C’mon, dudes!” Kirishima whined, impatient, bouncing so much on the desk chair it creaked. “Stop being cute for like two seconds and spill! I wanna know everything.” Bakugou rolled his eyes at him, aiming a frustrated grimace at the floor. Of course Kirishima would be a cheesy, hopeless romantic, of course.
“W-well,” Kaminari breathed in, scratching the side of his face. “I… kinda asked him out at like two in the morning, half asleep? And then… forgot about it the next morning?”
Bakugou barked out a mocking laugh, the first noise he’d made since Kirishima bullied him into letting the two of them stay. “Seriously, you sparky fuck?” He grinned, leaning forward. “You’re brain is really that fried, huh?”
“Hey hey!” He held up his hands in surrender, “I got a boyfriend outta it, didn’t I? It beats hopelessly pining and getting nowhere, right, Bakubro?” Bakugou felt his face heat up red, from anger hopefully, and clenched his fists. He didn’t dare glance in Kirishima’s direction. “Pikachu, I swear you better shut the fu--”
“ Anyways, ” the way Sero continued on and Bakugou went ignored had tiny fireworks crackling against his palms, “since I was under the impression we were dating, I was kinda… well, clinging onto him like a koala all day. Hugging hand holding, I tried to kiss him on the cheek, but chickened out.”
“What? Really? I didn’t know that,” Kaminari questioned, Kirishima cooed with his hands over his cheeks in the background. Bakugou bit down on his tongue as he went back to scowling, leaning back against the wall.
“W-well, yeah? A-anyways, uh, later, at like ten at night, we were chilling in my room, pretending to be doing homework, when Kaminari asked me why I was being all affectionate lately.” Kaminari groaned, loudly, his hands covering his face as he fell back on the bed, curling up. Kaminari laughed down at him, a hand in his hair. “And I said ‘because we’re dating?’ and--”
“Kill me noooow ,” Kaminari wailed, “that was the worst experience of my life. ” Sero’s face was just the slightest bit pink, how gross. “Nah, I think it was cute.”
“Yeah!” Kirishima’s voice was booming as he jumped to his feet, sending the chair spiraling backwards into the wall. His eyes were sparkling. “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard! Congrats, guys!”
“Okay, you two fucking told your lame story,” Bakugou tsked, making sure to also shoot Kirishima a look for letting them into his room. “Now get the fuck out.”
Now Bakugou couldn’t keep from scowling, hunched over his desk, a pencil between his fingers, tapping it against the desktop repeatedly.
It’d only been a few days, Bakugou thinks. He couldn’t really be bothered to remember when exactly they’d gotten together. But now they were two lovesick idiots that couldn’t seem to be departed. Completely independent of one another. He lifted his lip up in a snarl. How weak.
“Hey, guys!” Bakugou dragged his eyes over to Kirishima, trying not to soften his gaze as he watched him lean towards them, over his own gesk. “Aizawa’s gonna be here any second!” Kaminari’s response was to whine, as if it was the worst thing in the world, to be parted from Sero by a few feet. Bakugou didn’t even try to hide his scoff.
“Okay, gotta go back to my seat, babe.” Babe? Seriously? Wha--
Kaminari kissed Sero, chaste and quick, before bouncing over to his seat, hiding his red face at the hoots and hollers all around them. Kirishima drew Bakugou’s attention to him, his laugh echoing.
Aizawa walked in just as Bakugou incinerated the pencil in his hand.
Bakugou was half asleep, half his blankets thrown off his bed and his window cracked open, when the endless, insistent buzzing of his phone woke him up.
He lifted his face out of his pillow, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth, narrowing his eyes at his phone, the screen flashing on and off. He didn’t even need to check who it was to know it was Kirishima. He scooped it up off the nightstand, considering just chucking it straight out the window and going back to sleep. And if it was anyone else, he probably would have done just that, instead of bearing the blinding light of his phone screen.
Shitty hair: bakuoug
Shitty hair: fuck
Shitty hair: BAKKKUUGOU you awake bro
Shitty hair: cmonnnnnnnn we both know you arent sleepin
Shitty hair: the nights still young! It’s only like
Shitty hair: oh fuck its like two in the morning
Shitty hair: since when wha t
Shitty hair: but BAKUGOU
Shitty hair: D:
Bakugou scowled, huffing as he thumbed out an angry reply
Bakugou: holy FUCK WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU
Bakugou: I SWEAR TO GOD IM SECONDS AWAY FROM THROWING MY PHONE THROUGH THE WALL AND INTO YOUR SKULL
Shitty hair: oh hell yeah!!! Do it dude thatd take some manly marksmanship
Shitty hair: oh wait did i wake you up im sorrrrrryyy
Shitty hair: but your awake now so lets go :D
Bakugou didn’t need anymore explanation from him to get what Kirishima was getting at. He should have known beforehand that Kirishima had a thing for self proclaimed, meaningless traditions.
Bakugou: no
Bakugou: just go by yourself im not your fucking babysitter
Shitty hair: but it wouldnt be the same without you bakugou :’(
Shitty hair: i wont go without u
Bakugou gulped, his heart bubbling as he tightened his grip on his phone, to the point he’d wonder later how it didn’t shatter in his hands. When the creeping red warmth crawling up his face, from his neck to his ears, became unbearable, he groaned and buried his face in his pillow. “Fucking ridiculous,” he muttered.
It only took a second or two for Bakugou to be out of his bed, dressed, and heading into the hall. He didn’t even have to knock on his door before Kirishima burst out, his bright, genuine grin blinding.
It beats hopelessly pining and getting nowhere, right?
He wasn’t, Bakugou decided, as he snuck out of the U.A. grounds and down familiar streets, hopelessly pining, despite what Kaminari fucking thought. He couldn’t deny the second part, only because he didn’t want to get anywhere.
Bakugou looked at Kirishima out of the corner of his eye, watching how he rambled on an and about the school day, laughing all over again when he recalled how Sero spilt soup all over himself when Kaminari kissed him on the cheek. Bakugou watched the line of his mouth, recalling the class with Kaminari and Sero, and snapped his head away.
He didn’t want it to go anywhere. Nope, not at all. Hell no.
The walked down another block, bakugou not saying a word as he kept his gaze pinned down on the sidewalk in front of them. His hands were stuffed into fists in his jacket pockets, trying so hard to focus on the few and far between sound of cars zooming past and not on Kirishima’s voice that he hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped talking.
Kirishima let out a long, wistful sigh, head tilted upward and his hands behind his head. The slant of his lips, his tongue just barely sticking out between zig-zagged teeth, and the look in his eyes had Bakugou cursing his own weakness.
“Y’know,” his voice pierced the night, “I’m really happy for Sero and Kaminari. They’re really, really happy together.” Bakugou said nothing, too uninterested to think of a responses beside a low grunt. Kirishima wasn’t perturbed by this, taking light steps, continuing on with a toothy grin. “I mean, half of 1-A saw it comin’, myself included. And, you too, right?”
“ Hah ?” Bakugou looked at Kirishima out of the corner of narrowed eyes, hoping that he saw just how ridiculous that claim was when he met his gaze. Honestly, as if Bakugou even cared enough to see Sero and Kaminari’s inevitable get together. “What the fuck makes you think that? ”
Kirishima’s shrug was lighthearted, seemingly bored with it, but it looked to forced to really be casual. “Oh, I dunno, it’s just,”--he hummed, Bakugou glowered-- “you’ve kinda been staring at the two of ‘em a lot? Especially this morning in class. Especially when they kissed.”
The upward lilt of Kirishima’s tone, the way he said the last word, had Bakugou bristling. “What the fuck,” was all he could muster, full on turning his head to stare straight at Kirishima, but it seemed to get the message across. That, or Kirishima was just being obnoxiously perceptive.
“What?” Kirishima raised both his eyebrows, “you’re not exactly hiding it, bro. Like, you destroyed that pencil that you were holding. I saw the ash on your desk.” Bakugou took that as a sign to walk faster, a step ahead of Kirishima as he turned a corner down a dimly lit street.
Kirishima didn’t seem to get the hint that this conversation was strictly over. Or, he just didn’t care, jogging to meet Bakugou’s brisk pace, head dipped in his direction. “But I mean, I kinda figured at first maybe you were frustrated that it took them so long to suck it up and confess, but apparently not? So, could it be you’re just--”
“--holy fuck. Drop it or I’m gonna leave you here--”
“-- jealous?”
Bakugou’s steps stuttered, just a second, but obvious enough that his attempts to cover it up with cowering shoulders and angry stomps didn’t work.
“Oh my god,” Kirishima gasped. Bakugou cursed him under his breath, hiding his face in the collar of his jacket. “Oh my god, Baku--”
“You’re a damn idiot,” Bakugou barked, his gruff voice disturbing the night while Kirishima didn’t even so much as flinch. “As if I’d be fuckin’ jealous of either of those jerks. Who the hell do you think I am. Huh?”
“No no!” He waved his hands as he shook his head back and forth, stepping in front of Bakugou and pivoting around on his heels. He struggled not to trip himself as he walked backwards in front of Bakugou, all to face him with a shadowcast, grinning face. “I don’t mean it in that sense. No offence or anything, but neither of those guys seem like our type.” Bakugou almost, but caught himself from wondering what exactly Kirishima thought his type was.
“But, I think you’re just jealous,” he stopped, forcing Bakugou to a halt, with a finger pointing straight at him, “‘cause you’re missing out on that whole kissin’ experience. Because there’s someone you want to kiss.” Bakugou stared straight at him, at his curious, wide-eyed gaze, hoping that he looked uninterested, bored, annoyed, something above calm but below explosive.
He hoped that the thumping, booming, pounding in his chest didn’t colour his face vulnerable shades of red, or that at least the dark night shadows hid it the warmth crawling up his neck. He clenched sweaty palms, shoving them into his jacket pockets.
Kirishima raised a single eyebrow at his silence. “Bakugou,” he hissed in a breath. Bakugou watched the movements of his mouth, “you’ve never kissed anyone before, right?”
“I’m going back to the U.A.,” Bakugou swirled around, his shoulders up tight to his ears. His voice was angry, a growl, trying to hide, to bury the way his stomach coiled, tumbled, rolled. He felt sick, in a bubbly, airy way that he’d become unfortunately familiar with, lately.
“Hey, hey! ” Bakugou snarled when Kirishima grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop. He jerked his head to the side, glaring over his shoulder. “I said I’d had enough-- ”
“You didn’t deny it.” Kirishima’s interruption had hot, boiling, truths bubbling up Bakugou’s throat. “Romance is a waste of time,” he huffed, frustrated, because it was obvious, so damn obvious. Kirishima was wasting his time, with the butterflies he let tumble around in his ribcage. “It’s pointless. A fucking setback. I don’t need to be doing useless, boring, mundane shit like dating and kissing when I’m gonna be the best hero--”
“So, you’ve really never kissed anyone?” Kirishima’s eyes were red as fire, flickering. Bakugou could only wonder why Kirishima was so obsessed with this. “ Really? ”
“ No, okay?” Bakugou finally screamed, flailing both arms up in the air, crackles and pops across his palms illuminating both their faces. His face was erupting in flames, surely. He took the time to calm down enough to safely cover half his face with one hand. “You fucking happy now? What does it even matter--”
“Would you like to?”
Bakugou went deadly silent. Kirishima didn’t say a word more. He just stared.
Bakugou’s heart was bursting through his ribs, exploding up his throat, painting his face deep, dark scarlet. He didn’t even notice the fires sparking across his palms until his smelt wicked smoke. “Wh-what.”
“It’s just a kiss,” Bakugou decided, his vision clouded by red and a hole in his chest, that Kirishima was a cruel villain, making him feel this way while he just shrugged, held up his hands, like this was nothing, nothing. “Just, y’know, you said you don’t care about romance, right--”
“Jesus, stop-- stop talking like an-- you… fuck-- ”
“So why not, right?” Bakugou marched past him, Kirishima right on his heels. His voice was making Bakugou sweat. “Like, just to get it out of the way? I mean, it’s just a kiss between bros, right? A smooch, suckin’ face--”
“Shut up, ” Bakugou’s fingers were tightly interwoven in his hair, his teeth gritting together to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest. “Stop--stop fucking sounding like an idiot.” Kirishima dared to laugh, laugh, as if Bakugou’s whole body wasn’t a blazing pyre in front of him.
“Yeah, okay,” he hummed out, casual, “seriously. It wouldn’t really mean anything, right? A kiss is a kiss, it ain’t a big deal. So, might as well get it over with, right?”
He bounced up in front of Bakugou, surprising him to a stop as he leaned out. He tensed, shoulders rigid, hid sweaty, clammy palms clenching into fists. He hated how Kirishima’s face, inches away from his, made him speechless.
“So, what’d you say?” The shadows cast over his face, pooling under his eyes and his brow and the corners of his mouth, did nothing to make the friendly, unassuming spark in his eyes. “Bakugou?”
“I saw you should just drop this stupid fucking subject,” Bakugou growled out, his head tilted down, “and just keep walking.”
“Sorry, can’t do that, bro.”
He raised an eyebrow, giving a dangerous frown. He barely got the chance to open his mouth. “Considering,” Kirishima nodded his head to the diner beside the both of them, “that we’re kinda already here.”
The lights were on, illuminating the both of them with golden light. The neon ‘open’ sign flickered and hiccuped in the window. Bakugou could see something wiping down the tables in through the grimy windows.
“Don’t,” Bakugou snapped half-heartedly at the sound of Kirishima’s snicker, “say a word. ”
The diner was, in all honestly, a huge dump.
Bakugou kind of hated it. The seats of the booth were an ugly red, tearing through and faded to bleached pink underneath him. Tabletops creaked and moved when they really shouldn’t. The tiled floor was stained by what might have been water damage in the corners. All the decorations, the posters and advertisements from the 50s on the walls, were tacky.
But, it was the only place in a walking distance Bakugou could find that would be a good place to sate Kirishima’s weird addiction for late night junk.
Bakugou watched Kirishima jug his second strawberry milkshake, eyes pinned to the way he hummed and hissed at a brainfreeze while picking at the soggy dish of fries he’d gotten.
“You’re not even eating,” Kirishima whined, pouting until Bakugou took a bite of a limp fry, his glare unwavering. “There ya go!” He leaned back for his drink to laugh, clapping his hands together, bouncing in his seat. “I can’t be the only one eating here. I’d look like a pig!”
“You’ve already had two huge ass milkshakes,” Bakugou snorted, getting an exaggerated gasp as a response. “And stop kicking me under the table. Can’t you sit still?”
“No,” Kirishima hummed, but stopped fidgeting anyways, instead going to idly sip at his drink, the straw pinched between his fingers and he leaned towards the window. He hummed to himself to fill the silence, watching passing cars, or maybe trying to get a glimpse of the stars through all the light pollution. Or maybe he was just lost in thought.
Or, just maybe, Bakugou should stop staring. He turned away, staring up at one of the brownish splotches on the roof, determined to look at it until it was more interesting, distracting than Kirishima’s face was.
But he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering. The silence, the emptiness of the whole diner, save for the two of them and the employees who had taken to hiding in the back, made his thoughts scream in his ears.
Bakugou would never, ever admit to it, but he could still feel his heart pound, his stomach tumble, from Kirishima. He wanted to wipe it from his memory, the way Kirishima confronted him on the sidewalk. He wanted to just bury whatever… feeling it made erupt in his chest until he couldn’t feel it. Until it was nothing.
But…
He looked at the window, at Kirishima’s reflection in the glass. He leaned on the table, his head in his hand. Kirishima didn’t seem to notice him, and he was thankful for that.
But… Bakugou couldn’t figure it out. Kirishima made him thoughtless, mindless. He stole his jealousy and anger from him like it was nothing. He could accuse him of jealousy, of wanting to kiss someone and be right. If it had been anyone else, taking his anger and embarrassment in stride, teasing and making remarks at his expense, then…
Bakugou huffed. It couldn’t be anyone else, but Kirishima. It was as stupidly, ridiculously simple as that.
“Hey.”
He grunted, Kirishima turning his head to look straight at him. Bakugou sat up straighter at the way he looked at him, but couldn’t
quite
look right at him. The straw of his milkshake was still in between his teeth. “What?”
“You know what I said before, right?” he spun the straw around between his fingers. Bakugou crossed his arms, leaning back, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, why?”
“I wasn’t just, like, teasing, y’know?” Now, he couldn’t even look straight at him across the table, staring into his glass. “I wasn’t just being an idiot. I… my offer still stands. You get what I’m getting at?”
“What?”
Kirishima’s eyes were wide, owlish. “Th-the, uh, the first kiss thing--”
“No, no, ” Bakugou groaned, shoving his shitty fries to the side and leaning forward heavily, the table teetering in his direction. “I mean, why? What the fuck is it to you?” his sharp teeth worried his bottom lip, his head tilting to the side as he gave a shrug. “Uhm… like I said, it’s--it’s just a kiss? No.. no big deal or anything. I’m just tryna help a friend out!”
“You know what?” Bakugou reached over, pointing straight at him, nearly poking him right on the nose. Kirishima went cross-eyed before looking at the snarled grin on Bakugou’s face. “I call bullshit. You really think I care about something like a first kiss? You woulda dropped that weak excuse, this whole damn thing, before you even brought it up if it really was ‘nothing’. I think you’re getting your own sick kicks out of thi--”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Kirishima blurted out, taking Bakugou by surprise. It was his turn to blink at him, at the tight-lipped from and downward tilt of his eyebrows. “No, it’s… nothing like that. It’s--nothing. Just… sorry, bro. That was unmanly of me, making you uncomfortable like that. I’ll shut up now.” He looked away then, like when he said that he really meant he’d keep quiet for the rest of the night.
Bakugou gulped down at the flames licking up his throat, heating his face. He tapped his fingers and looked away as he said; “I didn’t ever say no.”
Kirishima straightened up. “Bakugou?” at the use of his name, he met his gaze, standing straight, as tall as he could. His words were stolen from him, replaced by the feeling of cotton in his mouth. But, still, he leaned across the table.
“W-wait,” Kirishima wouldn’t stop staring, “are you--”
Bakugou quickly moved the half empty milkshake out of the way and smacked a hand over Kirishima’s eyes in one fluid motion. He gasped, fingers instantly going up to pick at the hand over his eyes, the bridge of his nose. “Don’t,” Bakugou’s low huff had him stopping, “Don’t. I just…”
Bakugou couldn’t quite say it, that he didn’t want Kirishima to see him like this; pink cheeks, red ears, sweaty and uncertain. He didn’t want to be seen as weak as he was. But, Kirishima somehow understood, like he always did. That eased his tense shoulders slightly, just a bit.
He almost leaned forward all the way, his breath on Kirishima’s face. “Can I?”
“Of course,” he didn’t even get to finish before Bakugou’s lips were on his.
It was messy, and uncoordinated, and awkward. Bakugou’s nose was squished against his own hand. Kirishima’s mouth was open just slightly. Bakugou had no clue if he should close his eyes and Kirishima’s hands stayed clenched into tight fists against the table.
It lasted a second, probably less, before Bakugou lunged back as if he was burned, throwing himself back against the booth seat. Kirishima trailed after him, now standing up and leaning over, looking like he’d just been winded from a punch to the gut.
“There,” Bakugou said as he wiped Kirishima’s spit off of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, somehow not finding that as gross as he should, “are you happy now? You got my first kiss, or whatever the fuck this was about. You fucking happy?”
“No.”
There was two hands twisting his jacket into fists and pulling him up, smashing lips against his. Bakugou gasped, eyes going wide. He saw Kirishima’s face, his nose scrunched up and his eyes tightly closed, before he got the message to follow suit.
He closed his own eyes, giving back as much as he could. Kirishima seemed to sigh, or deflate ever so slightly, when Bakugou leaned into it, when he thread fingers into his red hair. He could feel hands, fingers digging into his biceps, gripping tight enough to leave a mark that Bakugou would make sure to bitch about later.
When someone pulled away, whoever it was, neither of them could seem to just look at each other. Their faces were both red, skin ablaze, their hearts shaking in their chest.
“We…” His voice was airy, sounding weak, “we should head back. It’s… the sun will rise soon, probably. And… yeah.”
“Fine,” Bakugou said. As they got up, paid the waitress that was half asleep on the front counter, and the bell above the door jingled as they left, Bakugou found that he definitely didn’t feel weak.
He felt strangely powerful, vibrant, as he walked beside Kirishima, who kept edging into his space. Bakugou didn’t comment on it, or protest at how he kept brushing knuckles with him.
“Hey, Bakugou?” Kirishima’s voice sounded almost out of place, after the two of them walking almost the whole way in complete silence. Bakugou could see the walls of U.A. down the street when he felt Kirishima’s voice against his ear.
“Do you wanna know a secret?” He whispered, hands around his wrist pulling him to a stop. Bakugou watched the way he grinned with suspicion, the way he bit his bottom lip.
“I haven’t kissed anyone but you, either.”