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Kirishima woke up feeling miserable.
There was no reason for it, as far as he could tell. He'd been doing well in classes, academic and training alike; he'd been doing well in his own personal goals- he'd shaved an entire thirty seconds off his mile run time just last week; he'd spent last night playing video games cuddled up with Bakugou, and had gotten more than enough kisses to make up for losing. But this morning, he had a hard enough time just dragging himself out of bed, let alone completing his daily workout and shower. He fixed his hair and sighed at himself in the mirror. Everything was going great. So why did he feel like crap?
He trudged out of his room, somehow already exhausted, dreading the idea of having to stay awake throughout the day and yawning into his hand. Leaning up against the wall was Bakugou, tapping at his phone, bag on the floor at his side.
At Kirishima's approach, Bakugou glanced up from the phone before jabbing at it a bit more, scowling, and shoving it in his pocket. “Fucking thing keeps freezing,” he growled, snatching up his bag and tossing it over one shoulder once Kirishima had reached his side. He opened his mouth to continue grumbling, but shut it again in a frown, eyes narrowing as they scanned Kirishima's face. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Kirishima replied, attempting a smile.
Bakugou clearly didn't buy it. Kirishima would normally be laughing and clinging to him by now, smothering him in affection that Bakugou didn't mind nearly as much as he might occasionally let on. He didn't mind it at all, usually. Its absence was a glaring one. “Fuck's wrong?”
“I just,” Kirishima searched for an answer. “I just didn't sleep great, I guess?”
Bakugou's hand reached out and, with his usual disregard for or utter unawareness of personal space, gently ran a thumb over the bags under one of Kirishima's eyes. He made a dissatisfied hum and shifted his hand to tug Kirishima's face closer and kissed him on the forehead. “Told you to stop fucking staying up so late,” he muttered before pulling away.
Kirishima's smile was more genuine, this time. “Not all of us can nap at the drop of a hat, babe,” he chuckled as he walked along with Bakugou. It was true that he hadn't slept all that well. But that was nothing terribly new, and it only explained his tiredness, not his strange discomfort at the idea of being social today, nor how swiftly his smile faded again.
Bakugou didn't reply to Kirishima's teasing, just shrugged and gave him a critical look again. They didn't chat all that much on the way to breakfast or on the way to class- Kirishima usually did the majority of the talking, which suited them both perfectly well, but his usual energy seemed just out of reach today. Bakugou didn't comment on his atypical quiet, but Kirishima felt himself on the receiving end of Bakugou's calculating stare all the way to the classroom.
Kirishima dumped himself into his seat the moment it came into reach, too out of it to notice or appreciate the usual classroom shenanigans, and instead busied himself with looking through his notes so he wouldn't be called on to engage with anyone. He was left alone, thankfully, but didn't have such luck during the break after class. As much as he usually loved laughing at whatever memes Kaminari had dug up the previous night, today he didn't see much funny about them.
“Dude, you doing alright?” Kaminari asked, clearly concerned.
With another halfhearted try at a smile, Kirishima just said, “Didn't sleep well, sorry.”
“Oh,” Kaminari mused. He didn't look convinced, but Kirishima really didn't have the energy to try again. “Well, take a nap during lunch or something?”
Kirishima gave a weak shrug and, during math, nearly felt like crying in frustration. He'd been doing a lot better in his studies lately, including math- thanks in no small part to Bakugou's tutoring- but today's lesson wasn't sinking in. He wasn't sure if it was because he was actually tired, or if his own inexplicable unhappiness was keeping him from focusing, or if he honestly just didn't understand the material. He drooped down in his chair and scratched at his notebook with his pencil, the scribblings just as useless as his actual notes.
During the second break during which Kirishima had entirely failed to laugh at Kaminari's jokes, Kaminari sidled over to Bakugou, a frown on his usually carefree face. “What the hell did you do, bro,” he hissed under his breath.
Bakugou glared at him. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Kaminari very unsubtly gestured at Kirishima, zoning out at the window, chin in his palm. Bakugou wasn't sure if he looked exhausted or sad or just bored. He was sure that Kirishima looked better smiling and laughing, though. He was sure there had to be something off, something other than just a poor night's sleep.
“Dude, he's barely said anything at all today. You two have a fight or something?”
They didn't have a fight. Not as far as Bakugou knew. But Bakugou knew he wasn't the best at reading shit, either. He was the best at a lot, but not this. Not yet. He'd damn well get there, though. Not that any of that was Kaminari's damn business. Bakugou scowled. “Fuck you.”
Rolling his eyes, Kaminari sighed and nudged Bakugou in the ribs, entirely ignoring the way Bakugou's lips curled back in a snarl. “Just apologize bro. It'll be easier.”
“Are you fucking giving me relationship advice?” Bakugou demanded. “Fucking seriously?”
“Look man I'm just saying,” Kaminari eyed Bakugou's hands, suddenly realizing they might be a bit too close for comfort. He scooted back a hint. “If you messed up just apologize. No one else is gonna laugh at my jokes if you don't cheer him up.”
“Your jokes are fucking shit,” Bakugou growled.
“No accounting for taste.” Kaminari flashed a grin and sauntered off. Bakugou hadn't fucking messed up. Kirishima always let him know when he fucking messed up. But Bakugou kept an eye on Kirishima throughout the rest of the day. He usually did, sure- but this time was in a futile effort to discern some sense of the reason behind Kirishima's abnormally somber mood. If there was a reason, that is. He could just be having an off day. It happened, he supposed, even to someone as cheery and bright as Kirishima.
During lunch, Kirishima stayed in the classroom. Bakugou tried and failed to draw him out and so went without him, the whole time trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Kaminari shot him a knowing look and Bakugou glowered back. He returned early to find Kirishima hunched over his desk, chin atop his crossed arms, staring off into space.
Kirishima didn't even notice Bakugou had returned until he shoved food into his face. “Still feeling like shit, huh,” Bakugou muttered.
Managing a smile, Kirishima took the food and started eating. He was hungry, after all, despite his mood. “Yeah,” he admitted around mouthfuls, sheepish at the fact that Bakugou had figured out that he wasn't just tired.
The rest of classes went by sluggishly, with Kirishima no better off in the later classes than he was in the earlier ones, his energy levels and ability to focus or socialize or do pretty much anything no better than when he'd woken up. Afterwards, he packed up quickly in hopes of hurrying to his dorms and just watching a movie or sleeping or something mindnumbing or thoughtless enough to pass the time. But Bakugou reached him first. He frowned down at Kirishima from the side of his desk. “Come on.”
Kirishima looked from his bag to Bakugou and then back to his desk. “I'm just-”
Bakugou turned and started off. He knew Kirishima well enough to recognize when he was about to spew some self-depreciating bullshit. But he paused by the classroom door. “You fucking coming or not?”
Kirishima glanced between Bakugou and the worried expressions of his Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari, who, once he'd made eye contact, each hastily pretended not to notice the situation. He gave an audible sigh, slung his bag over his shoulder, and trailed Bakugou out.
Bakugou led the way off the main path towards one of their regular training grounds. He and Kirishima spent enough time sparring there for Bakugou to know the way by heart. Once Kirishima recognized where they were going, though, he stopped. “Look, I'm not really in the mood to spar. Another time, okay?”
“Who fucking said we were sparring?” Bakugou held out his hand. Kirishima took it without hesitation, but his expression didn't change. So whatever the fuck was wrong definitely wasn't Bakugou's fault, then. As much as he'd thought so, the confirmation of Kirishima's hand in his was still more of a relief than Bakugou wanted to admit to himself, and definitely wouldn't to Kaminari.
Kirishima stayed quiet for the rest of the way. Bakugou found the silence unsettling, but wasn't sure what to do to fill it in himself. So he just gave Kirishima's hand a squeeze and stopped walking once they'd made it to the center of the training grounds, surrounded by buildings still half-ruined from the quirks of whichever students had used them last. Bakugou dumped his bag on the ground and gave Kirishima a careful look. “You afraid of heights?”
Kirishima dragged his gaze from the ground to Bakugou and blinked blankly at him. He had no idea what Bakugou was planning, but he answered anyway. “No?”
“Great.” Bakugou disentangled his fingers and tugged Kirishima's bag from his shoulders, setting it down atop his own. He turned so his back was towards Kirishima. “Get on.”
After a pause, Bakugou frowned over his shoulder to see Kirishima still just standing there. “I fucking said get on.”
Kirishima's eyes went wide as he put the pieces together. He'd always admired the sight of Bakugou flying himself around on his explosions, all grace and energy and fascinating acrobatics. He'd envied Bakugou's quirk, too, not that long ago, before he'd come to love his own quirk. And even after Kirishima had stopped wishing for a quirk as flashy as Bakugou's, he'd still wondered what it would feel like to soar through the air like that, unrestrained, above and away from everything. But Bakugou had absolutely never carried anyone while doing so. “But-”
“Think I can't fucking carry you? You're heavy, but you're not that fucking heavy, shit,” Bakugou grumbled. It wasn't as if he'd never picked up Kirishima before. He'd just never carried him like his before.
“It's all muscle,” Kirishima said, a laugh just behind his throat, excitement at the idea of flight pushing through the fog that had settled around his mind.
“Damn right it is,” Bakugou muttered, drawing another smile from Kirishima. “Now get the fuck on.”
Kirishima did, awkwardly clambering on to Bakugou, crossing his arms over Bakugou's chest, far enough below his neck so as not to choke him. Bakugou helped to shift Kirishima's legs until they were crossed as well, ankles tight together. Bakugou had to readjust his stance a few times to stay standing with the extra weight, not exactly used to Kirishima clinging entirely to his back. Once they were both satisfied with their positions, Bakugou suggested, “Might want to activate your quirk.”
“I don't want to hurt you.” Kirishima was well aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing the protective coverings on his arms that accompanied his hero costume, and that Bakugou wasn't quite as resilient to the jagged edges of Kirishima's hardened skin as he might like to pretend.
“Just your back, then,” Bakugou tried again. He'd never been hurt by his own explosions, sure, but there was no fucking way he was going to risk hurting Kirishima while trying to cheer him up.
After a pause, Bakugou felt Kirishima nod into his shoulder. “Okay,” Kirishima murmured, hardened enough to protect him from indirect contact with Bakugou's quirk but not enough to ruin his uniform. Not that indirect contact with Bakugou's quirk wouldn't ruin his uniform, anyway.
Bakugou took a breath, crouched, and focused on his palms. “Hold on,” he warned, then blasted an explosion out behind him from both hands, detonations larger than usual to accommodate Kirishima's weight. They launched into the air and Bakugou felt not only the immediate and familiar adrenaline in his blood at the thrill of flight, but he also felt rather than heard Kirishima's sharp gasp and the way Kirishima's limbs tightened around him.
Kirishima had never experienced anything quite like this before. The air tore past him, tugging at his skin and eyes, hair and clothes snapping out behind him. Bakugou let out another blast, and another, and with each one they soared higher, until they climbed past the roofs of the surrounding buildings and the wind gained a chill despite the warm weather. Kirishima's dark mood stayed on the ground, the marvel of flight clearing his mind and wresting the breath from his lungs.
Once they were high enough, Bakugou altered the tilt of his detonations to level them out. They were still climbing, still gaining altitude, but the more gradual angle allowed Kirishima not only to catch his breath, but, far more importantly, to see all the surrounding area.
It was beautiful.
Kirishima had seen everything from more or less this height before, of course; they weren't that far past the buildings, and the balcony of his dorm had an excellent view. But seeing it from here, from suspended in air by nothing but Bakugou's will, it looked more vivid than he'd ever seen it. Despite the tears the wind tugged from his eyes, he drank in the buildings and streets and hills and distant water and less distant clouds with a bright awe in his heart.
Kirishima didn't realize his grip had loosened until Bakugou dropped to one palm's worth of explosions in order to use one to tug Kirishima's arms tighter around him. Kirishima pulled closer, chest flush against Bakugou's back once more, hugging just as much as he was holding on. Bakugou's hand stayed on Kirishima's arm for a moment longer than necessary before returning to his blasts. “Ei!” Bakugou shouted, loud to be heard over the explosions and the rush of air, “Doing okay?”
“Yeah!” Kirishima exclaimed, honest if understated, quieter for his mouth being right beside Bakugou's ear. He pressed a kiss to Bakugou's cheek, grinning. Everything looked small and infinite from here, impossibly far while immediately accessible. He wondered how it would look at sunset, at night, at sunrise. He wondered how it would look in the rain or snow. He wondered how Bakugou could possibly not spend the entirety of his time just flying like this.
Then Bakugou shifted the placement of his hands again and added a gradual rotation to their path down, then up, then at directions impossible to predict, erratic enough to add yet another layer of excitement to their flight but gentle enough to ensure Kirishima was able to maintain his grip. Bakugou darted through the air as he did during combat but without the intensity of it, allowing both himself and Kirishima to simply enjoy the movement. Kirishima had seen Bakugou move like this often enough, had sparred against it to varying degrees of success, but being a part of it felt entirely different, wild and free and passionately defiant of even gravity. A laugh bubbled out of Kirishima's chest, warm and unmistakably joyous as they spun through the air, enthralled with Bakugou's skill and exhilarated with the feeling of flight.
Kirishima's laughter brought a smile to Bakugou's face. He enjoyed flying, sure, but he enjoyed this- Kirishima's unbridled delight- far more.
Bakugou kept them in the air for what may have been a bit longer than he should have, considering the growing twinges of pain in his wrists, but it was difficult to convince himself to end what was making Kirishima so happy. But, eventually, he twirled them lazily down to the ground, using one palm to slow their descent and the other to make more precise adjustments.
Bakugou landed in a precise crouch. Kirishima slid off his back and Bakugou barely had time to stand properly before Kirishima's arms tied around Bakugou again, this time around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace and lifting his feet from the ground. His laughter was louder and clearer now without the wind tugging it away, and Bakugou couldn't help but join in even as he uselessly tried to loosen Kirishima's grip.
Noticing Bakugou's squirming, Kirishima released him with a broad grin, his earlier mood by now entirely forgotten. Bakugou turned to face him, his own smile spreading wider at the sight of Kirishima's. “Katsuki,” Kirishima said, breathless and beaming. “That was amazing.” He wrapped Bakugou in another hug, this one loose and relaxed, and waited for Bakugou to return the gesture before kissing him. He smiled into the kiss, content when he felt Bakugou do the same.
“Good,” Bakugou murmured once they'd parted, happy just to see Kirishima's smile, pleased that his plan had worked. Not that he'd been worried it wouldn't work, of course. He just wasn't sure if it would work as well as it had. Kirishima kissed Bakugou again at his answer, a brief peck to reiterate his happiness. Bakugou chuckled and reached down for their bags, handing Kirishima's over before putting on his own. “Now come on, we have studying to do.”
Kirishima laughed again and scooped up Bakugou into his arms. Despite Bakugou's halfhearted protests, Kirishima carried and kissed him all the way to the outskirts of the training ground, where Bakugou insisted he walk on his own. Kirishima grudgingly set him on his feet again, but stole another kiss before they returned to the dorms, adoring the way Bakugou blushed and failed to hide his embarrassment by scowling at the ground.
As they studied together in Bakugou's room, Kirishima thought of the way the air had felt billowing past him, the way the world had looked spread out beneath them, the way Bakugou had brought him out and up solely and entirely to make him happy. Bakugou took a break to bring food back to the room while Kirishima continued his studies, mind far clearer than it had been during class. They stayed up for a while to do their work until Bakugou forced Kirishima off to his room to get a proper night's rest.
Kirishima fell asleep feeling loved.