Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is fucking bullshit, was all Bakugou Katsuki could think as he was headed down the hall of the boys’ dorm. He was practically being dragged towards a shitty new room with a shitty new roommate who was probably even worse of a goody two-shoes teacher’s pet than his last one, and if it wasn’t obvious, he wasn’t happy about it.

“I’m assigning you to a new room with someone who can hopefully help break your bad habits. This is your final warning, Bakugou,” Aizawa, dean of the whole godforsaken school, had scolded him the day before. “Your parents and I are good friends, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior and I can’t put the safety and reputation of this school at risk just because of that.”

“Blah blah blah” was all Bakugou had heard; he couldn’t care less what this scraggly-haired asshole was bitching at him about, and he almost couldn’t care less whether said asshole decided to expel him or not. He’d had more than enough of high school as it was, and if it weren’t for that shitty ultimatum his dad had given him a week before he was kicked out of his house and straight into this damn boarding school, he’d have dropped out before even showing up.

Aizawa stopped at the second to last door near the end of the hallway. “Here. Room 416. Try to get along a little better with your roommate this time, alright?” he deadpanned, bloodshot eyes staring condescendingly down at Bakugou through his hair.

“Whatever,” the blonde muttered as the elder tapped his knuckles against the dark green door. It swung open almost immediately, revealing a smiling, red haired kid who couldn’t be any taller than Bakugou himself (not counting the ridiculous spiky, broom-looking hair, anyway).

“Yo, Mr. Aizawa!” he said in an overly enthusiastic voice that made Bakugou want to puke.

“Evening, Kirishima. Hope you’re ready to meet your new roommate.”

“‘Course,” Kirishima beamed. His eyes, a striking, bright red, landed right on Bakugou, and the blonde got ready for the usual—a faltering smile, a look of shock quickly replaced by another fake-ass smile in a lame attempt to cover up the shock (and, in a lot of cases—especially with adults—disgust), and a stiff hello, sometimes accompanied by an offered hand to shake out of forced politeness.

But the shitty-haired loser was unfazed.

“Hey man,” he said, sticking a hand out in Bakugou’s direction. “Name’s Kirishima Eijirou.”

Bakugou did nothing but stare at Kirishima’s hand, keeping his own wrapped around the strap of his backpack. After a beat of silence, Aizawa was saying his name in that shitty warning tone he’d heard about a trillion times in his lifetime, like he was going to kick Bakugou out of the school if he didn’t shake this loser’s hand.

The blonde huffed and stuck his hand out. “Bakugou Katsuki,” he muttered as the other’s hand practically enveloped his with how big it was.

Kirishima gave his hand one firm shake before withdrawing. “Nice to meet ya, man,” he said. “C’mon in.” He backed out of the doorway to allow Bakugou through. After a minute’s hesitation—of much rather wanting to turn and walk back down the hall with his middle fingers in the air than to go into that stupid room—he stepped in.

The room was practically identical to his old one, only flipped. Two full-sized beds sat adjacent to each other on the opposite side of the room from the door, each beside a small dresser with a large window and six or so feet of space between them. On the wall to the right of the door was a simple computer desk containing a few books, notebooks, and a laptop. One side of the room—the side with the bed furthest from the door and nearest the bathroom—was clearly occupied, the bed made up with a red comforter, a couple of posters plastered to the wall. A few of knick knacks and action figures littered the top of the dresser alongside a lamp.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Aizawa said from the doorway. “If you need anything else, you know where to go.”

“Thanks, Mr. Aizawa!” Kirishima called after him before letting the door swing smoothly shut once the man had walked away. He slid his hands casually into the pockets of his sweats as he sauntered over to his bed, an easy smile still spread across his stupid face. “So how goes it, man?”

Bakugou dumped his stuff on the empty bed, averting his eyes from his new roommate, blatantly ignoring him. He really wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“That bad, huh?” he asked as Bakugou was yanking open his bag. His clothes almost immediately spilled out, proving how he’d just stuffed them in without bothering to fold or organize any of it. He’d been too pissed to care.

“Uh, alright… well, welcome, I guess? Make yourself at home and stuff. I’ll just be… here.” Kirishima flopped onto his bed as if to punctuate his sentence, and still Bakugou ignored him.

He didn’t give a shit what this red haired loser did, as long as he didn’t touch his shit or get in his way—and that's how it was with everyone, and where his last goody two-shoes roommate made the mistake that had gotten Bakugou reassigned. It was fucking stupid, and Aizawa was an idiot if he thought this was going to ‘change his bad habits’, whatever the fuck those were.

From the looks of it already, Kirishima didn’t appear to be much different than Iida, what with the stupidly enthusiastic way he’d greeted the principal and then let Bakugou into his room without a second thought. Dumb Hair didn’t seem quite as nerdy as Iida, but he sure as fuck seemed like a complete suck up, which fucking figured considering Bakugou was on the verge of getting kicked out of this shitty boarding school he never wanted to attend in the first place. It was just his luck that his parents happened to be longtime friends with the damn principal.

“Hey, do you wanna take the desk?” Kirishima piped up as Bakugou was dumping his textbooks out onto the bed he’d merely thrown his sheets onto. Bakugou glanced over his shoulder to find the idiot propped up on an elbow, the opposite thumb jabbed in the direction of the desk. “I don’t really use it that much ‘cause I mostly just study on my bed, so you can have it if you want it.”

“No.”

“Okay. Uhm, what about the closet? There’s some spare space you can use if you need.”

“Nope.”

“Oh… alright then.”

The room fell back into silence save for Bakugou’s shuffling as he worked (frustratedly) to get his shit in decent order. His mom would probably smack him over the head if she saw the way he half-assed folding his clothes and stuffed them into the drawers, or the way he tossed his duffel bag and backpack into the corner without a care in the world.

But she wasn’t fucking there to watch his every move anymore, and that was her own damn fault.

No, now he was dealing with shitty Aizawa checking up on him every couple of days, and then asking that fucking Four-Eyed prick about him when he didn’t believe his answers. Except now he’d probably be asking this stupid upside down broom who was doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that he was watching Bakugou out of the corner of his big, round eye.

“The fuck are you staring at?” Bakugou muttered as he flopped onto his own bed, phone in hand after returning from putting his shit in the bathroom. He didn’t bother glancing in the other’s direction. “You want a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“No thanks,” Kirishima said, sitting up on his elbow again from having been holding his phone above his head as he laid on his back (and yes, Bakugou had really been hoping he would drop the thing on his face, maybe crack a tooth). “But I like your hair, man. What do you use on it?”

“Shampoo,” Bakugou deadpanned.

“No, I mean to get it to stick up like that. I can’t even see the product in it.”

“That’s because it’s fucking natural. Any more stupid questions?” Bakugou finally met the loser’s stare, his brows raised.

Kirishima’s mouth popped open, his stupid eyes shining in wonder. “Seriously? Damn, I’m jealous.”

“Why? ‘Cause you have to use cement to get yours to do that?” Bakugou jerked his chin in the other’s direction.

Kirishima’s smile—one that showed all of his straight, white, stupid teeth—lit up his whole goddamn face. “Yeah, pretty much!” he said with a laugh. “So what about the color? Is it bleached?”

“No.” Why the fuck am I talking to this idiot?

“Wow, that’s pretty cool, dude. You’re blessed with hair you don’t even have to do anything with and mine takes at least an hour to do, plus color maintenance every couple months.”

“Sucks to be you.” Bakugou turned his attention back to his phone and relaxed into the pillows behind him, tucking an arm behind his head as he unlocked the device.

“‘S not so bad. I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to do it, ya know?”

Bakugou provided a half-assed shrug in response before the room went silent again, and they both went back to their phones. The blonde was halfway done scrolling through his Instagram feed when the redhead sat up and kicked his legs over the edge of his bed.

“Hey, so I’m gonna go get something to eat. Wanna come?”

“Nope.”

“Y’sure? I heard the pizza bar is open tonight.”

“I’m fucking sure, Dumb Hair.”

Katsuki was sure—so sure—that Kirishima would take instant offense to an insult to his hair, but the idiot merely stood up and went for his shoes, saying, “Alright. Suit yourself. I’ll be in the mess hall if you change your mind, though.”

“Whatever,” the blonde muttered, and was glad when Kirishima finally left the room.

This has gotta be some new, shitty version of hell, Bakugou thought irritably.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

“Yo, Kiri! Over here!”

Kirishima’s eyes followed the direction of the familiar voice calling his name from across the mess hall to find Kaminari waving at him from their usual table near the windows. With a couple pieces of pizza piled on his plate and a bottle of Dr. Pepper, he sauntered over.

“Hey guys,” he said as he slid into his usual seat between Kaminari and Sero, across from Jirou. “How goes it?”

A nod traveled around the table before Kaminari was giving Kirishima a look . “So did ya meet your new roommate yet?”

“Yup. He showed up about an hour ago.”

“Wait, you got assigned a roommate?” Sero jumped in. “Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“Ah… whoops, I guess I forgot to tell you,” Kirishima mumbled with an apologetic laugh. “Sorry ‘bout that, but in my defense I only just found out about it last night.”

“And you told Kaminari and not me?” Sero grumbled in mock offense, crossing his arms and pushing his lower lip out in a pout.

“Hey, he was with me when I found out!” Kirishima scrambled to say.

Sero’s pout didn’t last long before he was grinning that stupid, seemingly permanent grin again. “I’m just giving you shit, Kiri. So new roommate, huh? Weird, ‘cause I heard a rumor about something weird going on with Iida’s roommate just this morning.”

“Something weird like what?” Jirou asked as Kirishima dug into his pizza.

“I dunno, exactly, ‘cause there are a lot of different rumors surrounding it. I heard from one person that something happened and Iida got him kicked out of school, but someone else said he was probably just getting suspended but that he wouldn’t be rooming with Iida anymore,” Sero explained. “I don’t know what to believe, honestly, but it’s some crazy stuff.”

“What’d he do for rumors like that to start spreading?” Kaminari asked, clearly intrigued.

“Oh shit, I think I heard something about that,” Jirou cut in. “From Mina. She said the dude threatened to kill Iida for some reason.”

“Do you guys know who it was?” Kirishima mumbled around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese.

“Nah, I can’t remember his name,” Sero mumbled, leaning an elbow on the table. “I think it started with like… a G? Or a B? I think the dude’s new this year, though. Ojiro told me he’s a senior, too.”

Kirishima’s pizza crust dropped onto his plate. “His name wasn’t Bakugou, was it?”

Sero snapped. “Yep! That’s it.”

The redhead blinked at his friend for a second; just as he opened his mouth, though, Kaminari nearly exploded. “Dude! I went to middle school with that guy! He’s a huge asshole!”

“Yeah?” Sero leaned across the table, already fascinated by more gossip.

“Yeah, man, and he was always getting into trouble and stuff. He’d like, leave class early all the time or barely even show up, and he had a huge temper.”

“Damn! No wonder he might be getting kicked out!”

“He didn’t get kicked out,” Kirishima cut in, drawing all attention back to himself. “He’s my new roommate.”

“Wait, what?” Sero asked.

“Seriously?” Kaminari said.

“Did you two dunderheads seriously not make that connection?” Jirou said. “I figured it out a good five minutes ago.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Kaminari said. “That sucks ass.”

Kirishima shrugged a shoulder, moving onto his second piece of pizza. “‘S not so bad. I mean, I barely met him and yeah, he was in a pretty bad mood when he showed up, but he seemed alright. Not like he wanted to pummel my face in or anything, anyway.”

Denki sat back a little, taking a thoughtful sip of his fruit punch. “I mean it has been like three years since middle school. Maybe he’s changed.”

“If he’s changed, why’d he threaten to kill Iida?” Jirou countered.

“Hey, I said that was only a rumor!” Sero defended. “It’s probably not true. But Iida definitely did something to get him reassigned.”

“Or maybe Iida just doesn’t like him and requested he get reassigned.”

“You really think the student body president really has that much power?” Kaminari mused. “Damn, maybe I shoulda run.” In the blink of an eye, his attention averted back to Kirishima, who was still busy stuffing his face with pizza. “So what’s he like, man?”

“I dunno,” mumbled Kirishima with another shrug. He took a second to finish chewing before saying, “Like I said, I barely met him, but he seemed fine.” As he spoke, he fiddled with the cap of his Dr. Pepper bottle, eyes away from the others.

“Dude.” Kaminari’s hand came down onto the table. “You’re blushing .”

“What?!” Kirishima’s head snapped up. “No I’m not!”

Sero snorted; even Jirou sported a grin. “You totally have a thing for him, don’t you?” Sero said.

“How the hell would I? I just met him!” Kirishima defended quickly. “I don’t even know him yet!”

“But you’re still blushing,” Jirou said.

Kirishima stuffed his hands under the table. “So I think he’s attractive, what do you want from me?” he grumbled in admittance.

“Nah man, nothin’ wrong with that,” Kaminari said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thinkin’ back, I could totally see him being your type.”

“You haven’t seen him since middle school , Denki,” Jirou deadpanned.

“So? Kiri likes blondes who’re a little rough around the edges.” Denki’s amber irises fell on his friend. “But aside from that, be careful, alright man? I don’t want you getting into trouble ‘cause of him or something since you’re rooming with him now.”

“What are you, my older brother?” Kirishima joked. “I’ll be fine. I think Mr. Aizawa assigned him to be with me ‘cause he trusts me. Can’t go ruining that, now can I?”

“I’m just looking out for you, man.”

“‘Preciate it, dude.” Kirishima downed the last of his soda before crumpling the bottle in his fist and folding his empty plate in half. “Anyway, you guys wanna head to the game room or something?”

“Hell yeah!” Sero said.

“I actually promised Mina I’d meet her back in the lounge after dinner,” Jirou said. “Guess she’s having boy troubles and needs my advice.”

“Awh, but I wanted to kick your ass at air hockey, babe,” moaned Kaminari as the four of them stood and headed for the trash cans near the entrance to the mess hall.

“You know damn well that you can’t kick my ass at anything in the game room, Denki,” the girl shot back with a smug grin in Kaminari’s direction. “Just kick Kiri’s ass instead,” she said, reaching up for a quick kiss from her boyfriend.

“Hey, I’m not that bad at air hockey!” Kirishima was quick to defend.

“If you’re worse than Kaminari, you’re pretty bad,” Sero said apologetically, clapping a hand onto the redhead’s shoulder.

Their banter continued as they left the mess hall; it was a while before Jirou finally managed to break herself off from them after Kaminari insisted upon what felt to Kirishima like six thousand kisses—all of which he was teased about.

“What? Just ‘cause you guys are single means I don’t get to have any fun?” he grumbled.

“Nah, it just means we get to have fun giving you shit for it,” Kirishima told him with a grin as the three of them continued down the sidewalk toward the rec hall.

⚜️

“Alright guys, we should probably head in,” Kirishima said after yet another loss at air hockey (he’d lost count after the seventh or eighth).

“Aw, you’re just bowing out ‘cause you keep losing!” Kaminari taunted. “You’re never gonna get better if you keep quitting.”

“Oh, shut it, blondie!” Kirishima joked, hooking an arm around Kaminari’s head and planting a fist into his hair. “I just gave you two hours of practice so you can finally try to beat Jirou, so you’re welcome .”

Laughing, Denki playfully shoved the redhead off of him. “True, true. Hey, you up for another round, Sero? I’m not ready to head back yet.”

“You’re on!” Sero challenged, jumping up from the couch.

“‘Kay, I’ll see ya guys later!” Kirishima called as he headed for the door.

“See ya in class, man,” Kaminari called after. “And hey!” Halfway out the door, Kirishima turned. “You should totally find out what your new roomie did to get reassigned!”

“‘S none of my business, man. If you two old ladies wanna know, ask him yourself.”

“You’re no fun!”

Kirishima was still chuckling as the door swung shut behind him and he headed back toward the boys’ dorm. Truth be told, he was pretty damn curious himself about what Bakugou had done to get reassigned himself, especially after hearing all those rumors. But it really wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t about to start being nosy.

Thinking back, didn’t really know what he’d been expecting when he learned he was being assigned a roommate; just as Kaminari, his initial assumption was that the school was getting a transfer student. Aizawa had personally shown up to his room while he and Kaminari had been in the middle of a Rick and Morty marathon to let him know he was being assigned a roommate, but gave no further information about it. After that, Kirishima had been too busy making sure the unoccupied half of the room was clean enough for another person to think too much more about it, and the next thing he knew, Aizawa was showing up at his door with a very scowling Bakugou.

Almost as soon as Kirishima had opened the door a set of unfamiliar red eyes were looking him over as he greeted the principal, and the blonde immediately struck him as attractive. If the crimson eyes smudged with eyeliner weren’t enough to make him think so, the completely unruly blonde hair, facial piercings, and angular face definitely were.

Knowing what he now did—between the rumors spread by Sero and Kaminari’s comments about him from when he’d gone to junior high with Bakugou—didn’t change a thing. They were just rumors after all, and as Kaminari had said, three years could definitely change a person. Kirishima was the type of guy to give someone the benefit of the doubt and definitely not one to base his first impression off of silly rumors and opinions of others. Besides, it was nice to finally have a roommate; being honest, having a room all to himself wasn’t all it cracked up to be. Rumors and whatnot aside, Kirishima was looking forward to getting to know his new roommate.

Chapter Text

Bakugou

Okay, so Kirishima wasn’t awful. He didn’t snore, didn’t leave his shit all over the place, and seemed to actually have a concept of personal space. He did talk an awful lot, though, but somehow it wasn’t completely infuriating. He was tolerable, at the very least, from what Bakugou picked up in the first week with the red haired loser.

Most of his babbling was about irrelevant shit, like what was being served in the mess hall for dinner that night or how one of his friends was always spreading new rumors about people Bakugou had never heard of, nor did he care to know.

“He never starts the rumors, but he’s always the first to tell someone about ‘em,” Kirishima had said.

“And what about you? Aren’t you doing the same damn thing by telling me?” Bakugou muttered, continuing to scroll through some shit on his phone as he always did when Kirishima was talking. (And yet for some reason he still bothered to listen to the dumbass.)

“Heh… yeah, guess you’re right about that,” Kirishima laughed. “Whoops.”

“Dumbass.”

The insults only made Kirishima laugh. It wasn’t that Bakugou was necessarily trying to offend him, but he’d never known someone who laughed at being called a dumbass or when their hair was insulted after spending an hour every goddamn morning on it, but Kirishima did, and Bakugou quickly picked up the nickname ‘Dumb Hair’ for him. It sure as fuck suited him, at least.

One thing Bakugou could definitely give him was that he was hell of a lot easier to deal with than his previous roommate, and almost painfully easy to talk to. On more than one occasion, Bakugou found himself having conversations with the idiot. They were usually pretty short-lived and always about shit he didn’t really care about, but even he couldn’t deny that Kirishima was a fairly easygoing, laid back person. For that, Bakugou was grateful—grateful he didn’t have to deal with a nosy, inconsiderate prick anymore.

Bakugou had been right about him being kind of a nerd, though. Unlike Bakugou himself, Dumb Hair wasn’t the type to wait until last minute to do his homework, and it was clear he put at least a decent amount of effort into his studying (something Bakugou never bothered to do… at all). Still, he wasn’t really a suck-up, straight A dweeb like Iida, who’d yell at him if his music was even slightly ‘too loud’ and was horribly fucking bothered if Bakugou stayed up even a second past ten.

After just a week, Kirishima was already an improvement over Four Eyes—thank fuck.

⚜️

As usual during lunches, Bakugou parked himself next to Deku, who he’d had the misfortune of going to both elementary and middle school with. Don’t get him wrong—he didn’t hate the nerd (not anymore, anyway), and he wasn’t nearly as annoying and crybaby-ish as he’d been when they were growing up, but he wouldn’t exactly consider Deku a friend, either. He was more like an annoying little brother who he’d been around so long that he no longer really gave a fuck what people thought when seeing them together.

Putting up with Deku, though, meant putting up with some jackass half-and-half guy who’d dyed his hair to be like a red, male version of Cruella de Vil or someshit. Fucker’s eyes were even two different colors, and though Deku insisted they were natural, Bakugou wasn’t convinced he wasn’t wearing contacts.

It also meant dealing with some chick who’s chubby cheeks were always pinkish and another whose face sort of resembled a frog and seemed to be best friends with Pink Cheeks, seeing as Bakugou never saw one of them without the other.

Deku’s friends weren’t terrible, Bakugou had decided, and he was willing to put up with them because he wasn’t about to be the loser to sit alone at lunch.

⚜️

Aizawa, of course, checked up on him twice before the shitty week was even over. The first time he’d simply stopped Bakugou in the hall on his way to sixth period as they just happened to be passing each other (although Bakugou wasn’t thoroughly convinced the asshole of a principal wasn’t fucking stalking him and making sure he wasn’t getting into any more ‘trouble’.)

“How are things with your new roommate?” Aizawa had asked.

“Fine,” Bakugou’d deadpanned.

“You getting along with him?”

“Sure.”

“And I take it you’re settled in okay.”

“Yup.”

To Bakugou’s fortune, the conversation was short-lived as he made it to his classroom (early, sadly; he hated being early to class but increasing his pace in trying to ditch the scraggly-haired weirdo principal made him step in before the second bell) and left Aizawa behind at the threshold.

The second time the fucker took the time to call Bakugou to his office for a conversation that only lasted two minutes—two minutes that removed Bakugou from his eighth period class.

“How are your classes going?”

“Fine.”

“And your roommate?”

“What about him?”

“Are you two getting along?”

Bakugou had gritted his teeth at the same question this asshat asked two fucking days ago. “Yeah, we’re fu—“ His teeth snapped shut. “We’re fine,” he gritted out through them.

Aizawa’s shitty, bloodshot eyes narrowed. Fucker was probably high. “I’ll take your word for it this time, but I will be checking in with him.”

“So why didn’t you do that in the first place?” Bakugou muttered under his breath, tracing the edge of the armrest of the chair he was slumped into.

“Because I’m trying to build trust between us,” Aizawa said blandly as though he didn’t know he hadn’t been meant to hear the snide question.

“Whatever. Can I go?”

The principal sighed. “Yeah. You’re excused to head back to class.”

Almost like lightning, Bakugou was out of that office. ‘Head back to class.’ Yeah, right. He didn’t give a shit if his ditching got back to the stupid principal—wasn’t like it would be the first time he’d gotten in trouble for it. Without anywhere better to go after grabbing a bag of chips from the vending machine, he ended up back in his room, headphones on until Kirishima returned.

“Yo, Bakugou!” the stupid-haired weirdo said as he practically burst into the room, two others trailing in behind him.

Bakugou pushed a headphone off of his ear. “You’re fucking loud,” he muttered.

“Sorry, man,” Dumb Hair said. “You got back here fast, though. Eighth period just let out like two minutes ago.”

“‘S ‘cause I didn’t go,” Bakugou muttered. “Who are these losers, anyway?”

“Oh! This is Kaminari,” he said, pointing to the blonde whose hair looked more yellow than, well, blonde. “And this is Sero.” He pointed to the other who sported dark hair and a stupidly plain face. “I’ve told you about ‘em before. Guys, this is my new roommate, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, we went to middle school together,” Kaminari said. “Sup, man?”

“We did?” Bakugou muttered.

“Yup. Guess I can’t say I’m surprised you don’t remember me, though. We only had one class together once, and you barely showed up.”

“Hmph.” Bakugou turned his attention back to his phone.

“Dude, I have to ask,” said the dark-haired, plain-faced one whose name had already slipped Bakugou’s mind.

He peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “Ask what?”

“What’d you do to get reassigned?” he asked, a mischievous grin forming.

“Dude, I told you that’s none of our business,” Kirishima defended before Bakugou could even open his mouth to respond. The redhead sent him an apologetic glance. “I told ya he’s super into gossip. Sorry, man.”

The blonde gave nothing more than a snort in response as Sero was defending himself about being gossipy. As the two idiots were headed back for the door, Kirishima spoke up again. “We’re gonna go catch a movie,” he said, stuffing something into his pocket. “Wanna come, Bakugou?”

“Not really,” Bakugou said, really only half listening and mildly wondering why Dumb Hair kept inviting him places when he never took him up on his offers.

“Mkay. See ya later then.”

Bakugou gave nothing more than a lazy thumbs up in response. He was already busy pulling up Netflix and finding something to drown himself in until dinner.

⚜️

The next morning (though it was almost noon, and Bakugou had just barely woken up), Kirishima proved he wasn’t exactly the goody two-shoes Bakugou had originally pegged him as.

“Yo, Bakugou, can you keep a secret?” he’d asked.

“The fuck are you talking about?” the blonde muttered, plopping back down onto his bed after getting out of the bathroom.

“Just answer the question,” Kirishima said. “You’ll see.”

“Yes I can keep a fucking secret, Dumb Hair. I thought your friend was the gossipy one.”

“He is,” the redhead said with a grin as he crossed the room to the closet. “‘S not gossip, though, it’s just for me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bakugou groaned again. It was noon, but it was still too early on a Saturday for this kind of bullshit.

Kirishima slid the left side of the closet open and leaned in. A second later he was pulling out a board—a skateboard to be specific—from the back corner of the closet. Kirishima set one end of it down onto the floor in front of him so that the bottom faced Bakugou. Its wheels were (predictably) red, and the bottom, nicked up a bit with scratches and scuffs, was spray painted with reds and oranges and yellows in a fire-like design emitting out of a crooked, maroon capital R in the center.

“How the fuck is that a secret?” Bakugou asked.

“It’s kind of obvious, but skateboards and bikes and stuff aren’t allowed indoors,” Kirishima explained. “Mr. Aizawa gave me a key to an outside storage shed to keep it in, but those things have been known to get broken into quite a lot, and I’m too attached to this thing to let anything happen to it, so I’ve been hiding it in here. We’re lucky to have a room so close to the door ‘cause it’s pretty easy to sneak in and out.”

Bakugou let out a sarcastic huff. “And you’re so damn attached to it, why?”

The question was met with a wide grin. “‘Cause I made it myself,” Kirishima said proudly. “Down to the last screw.”

“Huh,” Bakugou grunted, unaware of his brows being slightly raised.

“Don’t look so surprised, man,” Kirishima joked.

“I don’t,” the blonde defended quickly. “You just don’t seem like a crafty person… or whatever…”

With a slight laugh Kirishima said, “You wouldn’t be the first person to say so. Believe it or not, I’ve made a couple of these things and I’ve got one in the works at home in the garage.”

“Hmph. You paint that shit, too?” Bakugou asked, looking over the messy flame design and jerking his chin in its direction.

Kirishima flipped the board around to see the spray paint job for himself before quickly twisting it back. “Yep. I’m better at carving the wood and stuff, but I’ve been spending time in the art rooms practicing with all sorts of paint so I can make one I’m really proud of. This one’s a couple years old and one of the first ones I painted so it’s not the best I’ve done.”

“Huh,” Bakugou grunted again. Truth be told, he was mildly impressed—not only because Kirishima actually seemed to have some sort of artistic talent, but because he was passionate enough about it that he was willing to break the rules. Of course, Bakugou wasn’t about to let Dumb Hair know he thought such a thing, though. “So what’s the R for?” he asked.

Kirishima leaned the board against the end of his bed as he sat down to slip on some socks. “Ah… it stands for ‘Red Riot’. Kind of a nickname I got in middle school,” he explained, keeping his eyes down as he tucked his feet into his shoes. “It’s… kind of a long story,” he said with a sheepish laugh. “But I like the nickname, so I kept it.”

“Does anybody actually ever call you that?” Bakugou muttered, leaning back against his pillows and tucking an arm behind his head.

“Nah, not anymore. I just use it as a screen name now, honestly.”

“A screen name for what?”

“Just stuff like Instagram,” Kirishima said. “You can follow me if ya want. If you have it, I mean.”

“Of course I fucking have Instagram, Dumb Hair,” Bakugou said. “What kinda shit do you post, anyway? Ads for hair gel?”

That sparked one of those laughs that didn’t make an ounce of sense. “I post all sorts of stuff,” he said, “but hair gel ads is not one of them.”

“Hmph.”

“Disappointed?” A ridiculous, stupid smirk spread across the idiot’s face.

“Yeah, I’m so fucking upset,” Bakugou sneered. He was already on his phone, though, and typing in the stupid screen name Kirishima mentioned into the search tab. Sure enough, the first to pop up under the search results had Kirishima’s name below it and a small picture of the idiot in a pair of sunglasses and, predictably, holding up a peace sign with that big, dumb smile across his face.

“So you’re not gonna tell anybody about this, right?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou looked up as the redhead jabbed a thumb in the direction of his board.

“Do I look like someone who’s gonna fucking tell on you?” the blonde asked. “I don’t give a shit what you do with it.”

“Thanks man. I appreciate it,” Kirishima said, standing and tucking the board under his arm. “Anyway, I’m gonna go hang with the guys for a bit, so I’ll see ya later.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou deadpanned as his eyes focused back on his phone, where Kirishima’s Instagram page was still up.

“Have a good one!” were Kirishima’s parting words before he slipped out the door, leaving Bakugou in his own company, his attention remaining on his phone, on Dumb Hair’s page.

Kirishima hadn’t been lying—he did post all sorts of shit, between ridiculous selfies with his friends, recent photos of a road trip he must’ve taken over the summer, and progress shots of the boards he talked about making. He wasn’t the best photographer, but it wasn’t like Bakugou was one to brag about skills with a camera. One thing he couldn’t help but notice, though, was the plethora of red. The pictures themselves didn’t hold a theme, but some shade of red was present in nearly every photo, whether it was Kirishima’s stupid, crazy-ass hair and the bright shade of his eyes, a can of red spray paint, or something as simple as a red-tinted filter.

Oddly enough, ‘Red Riot’ suited the damn nerd. With a quiet snort Bakugou wasn’t entirely aware of, he tapped the follow button.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

“fuck_off started following you. 9h”

Kirishima didn’t see the notification until he got back to his (vacant) room, and it hadn’t clicked right away who the hell ‘fuck_off’ could be until he tapped the icon.

Bakugou. He grinned. Of course Bakugou would have a username like ‘fuck_off.’  Without hesitation and before scrolling even a single time down Bakugou’s page, he tapped the follow button.

Kirishima had only just kicked his shoes off and plopped down onto the end of his bed when he started scrolling, getting a first glance at Bakugou’s pictures. He didn’t post much—there were fewer than a hundred photos overall—but most of what his account did contain were pictures of himself. Pictures of himself that Kirishima couldn’t help but notice contained a lot of middle fingers.

The oldest photo was from two years ago and lacked the eyeliner that Bakugou spent his waking hours donning as well as most of the piercings he wore now. It was pretty surprising just how different—how much younger—he looked without the piercings and such. He was definitely still attractive, Kirishima concluded, but the redhead found he preferred the appearance of the Bakugou who was his roommate rather than that of the one he saw in the picture. (Though he couldn’t deny the attraction he had to either one.)

Amongst the selfies were photos of miscellaneous things—a few other people in photos with Bakugou whom Kirishima obviously didn’t recognize, a few of a big black and white dog he probably had at home, and—admittedly striking Kirishima as somewhat strange—a couple of a big black motorcycle. Very few of them were actually captioned, though, offering no clarity to whose dog or bike it was, or who any of the other people were.

Kirishima’s attention was ripped away from his phone the second the doorknob clicked. His head snapped up just as the door swung open and Bakugou stepped into the room, and he swore he’d never jabbed his finger into the lock button so fast in his life—as though he was getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar or something silly.

“Yo,” Kirishima said quickly—too quickly, he was sure—as Bakugou tossed his keychain onto his bed.

“The fuck’s up with you?” Bakugou asked.

“Whattaya mean?”

Bakugou’s thin blonde brows inched up. “Dunno. You’re acting weird...er.”

“I am?” Kirishima asked, attempting to play dumb. He had no idea why he felt like he needed to keep the fact that he’d been… mildly stalking Bakugou’s Instagram a secret, but he did.

The blonde merely huffed as he flopped onto his bed, kicking his shoes off toward the wall, muttering a “whatever.”

⚜️

Falling into a routine with Bakugou as his new roommate was fairly easy after the first couple of weeks, especially after Bakugou (with evident reluctance) asked Kirishima to make sure he was awake on time to get ready and make it to first period without being late.

“That fucker Aizawa chewed me out for being late all the time ‘cause my shitty teacher ratted me out, of-fucking-course, so if I don’t start ‘being punctual’”—(he’d air-quoted it, an annoyed scowl pressed into his brow)—“it’s gonna be another shitty write-up, which means getting bitched at by my damn mother again, which gets me closer to being fucking expelled,” he explained after asking in a grumble.

“Yeah, man, I don’t mind helping you out,” Kirishima said. “Want me to wake you up in time for breakfast, too?”

“Might as fucking well,” Bakugou sighed out in irritation.

“How much time do you need to get ready?”

The blonde shrugged. “Twenty minutes,” he said.

“‘Kay. I’ll wake you up at like 7:00 so you’ll have like half an hour to get ready before breakfast, yeah?”

Bakugou, already seated on the edge of his bed, sighed as he flopped backwards, muttering, “Yeah, whatever.”

“Mkay,” Kirishima said, crossing his legs and returning his attention to the game he was in the middle of on his DS. Aside from the faint sounds from the device’s speakers, the room fell into silence.

That is, until Bakugou spoke up again.

“...thanks, or whatever,” he mumbled.

“Hm? Oh, no problem, man. Can’t blame ya for not wanting to get in trouble.”

The blonde huffed. “That ain’t even the issue. I don’t give a fuck if I’m in trouble, but I gotta graduate.”

“Fair enough,” Kirishima said. Though he hadn’t looked away from his game since going back to it, the motion of the other sitting back up caught in the corner of his eye and drew his attention over to his roommate, whose narrow eyes were trained right on him. “What?”

“Lemme ask you somethin’, Dumb Hair,” Bakugou said.

Jabbing his thumb into the pause button, Kirishima too sat up straight. “What’s up?” he asked. Already he could feel his heart picking up the pace in anticipation.

“Why the fuck haven’t you asked me why I got reassigned?”

“Oh… well, ‘cause it’s not really any of my business,” the redhead explained.

“But that was practically the first fucking thing your dumb friend said to me that one time,” Bakugou said, his tone almost accusatory.

Kirishima felt a mildly rueful grin pull at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, like I said, Sero’s full of gossip and rumors and stuff. That’s one thing he and I definitely don’t have in common.”

“Hmph,” the blonde huffed, the accusation in his eyes forming quickly into something of a smirk—the closest Kirishima had seen to him actually smiling yet. “So you’re sayin’ you’re not the least bit curious?”

Kirishima’s back straightened. “Er… well…” he mumbled, eyes drifting away from Bakugou. “...I wouldn’t say that, but I figure if it’s somethin’ you wanna tell me, I’ll listen. If not, I won’t blame you.”

Bakugou snorted and moved to lean back into his pillows, snatching his stress ball off of the table to start repeatedly tossing it up and catching it. “So then what kinda dumb rumors has your friend spread about me?” he asked as he did so. “Probably that I do drugs, right? Or that I punched a teacher before?” His tone remained amused as he made guesses.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Why? Has that been a thing before?” As he spoke he, too, preoccupied his attention a bit by turning back to his video game.

“You bet your ass it has,” Bakugou said, almost smug. “Shit like that, anyway. Once somebody said I broke into a teacher’s bathroom and wrote ‘fuck you’ in Sharpie on the wall.”

Kirishima nearly dropped his DS. “Seriously?” he blurted.

“Yup.”

“What the hell do you do to make people say this crap about you?!” As soon as the question was out, he snapped his teeth shut. “Crap—uh, you don’t have to answer that. Sor—“

“I never said it wasn’t true.”

“Wait—it was ?”

A snicker escaped from between Bakugou’s teeth just as he caught the ball again. “Fuck yeah it was.”

“...dude,” the redhead breathed. “That’s… kind of insane. How much trouble did you get into?”

“I’m fucking here, so a lot.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. So what kinda shit have you heard?”

“Hm…” Once again, Kirishima went back to his game, thinking back to the day he first met Bakugou and all of the rumors he’d heard not long after. “Sero said a few things about why you got reassigned. Most of it surrounded Iida, though. Guess someone thought he got you kicked out of school, and someone else said you were just suspended and reassigned, but he didn’t say anything about why . Except Jirou… uh, that’s Kaminari’s girlfriend… she said she heard you threatened to kill him and that’s why they made you move, ‘cause he’s the student council president and everything.”

“Shit, so people aren’t as fuckin’ stupid as I thought,” Bakugou mused. The ball came within inches of the ceiling before landing back in his hand.

“Wait, so that’s true, too? You threatened to kill him?”

“Fucker was touching and moving my shit around for like the fourth fucking time after I told him not to, so what the fuck else was I supposed to do to get him to quit?” the blonde grumbled. “I wasn’t fucking serious, but his stupid tighty whities are lodged too far up his ass to get that, so the fucker told Aizawa about it. Best thing that prick coulda done though, ‘cause now I don’t have to deal with his bullshit.”

Kirishima couldn’t help his chuckle, prompting Bakugou to pause in tossing his ball. “The fuck is funny, Weird Hair?”

“Nothin’, man. You’ve just… got a way with words, is all.”

“...what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kirishima flashed a grin at him, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a good thing, I promise.”

After a second of glaring, Bakugou clicked his tongue before snapping the ball upward again, finally hard enough to smack into the ceiling.

⚜️

It was no surprise when the next day Kirishima found out just how grumpy Bakugou was when he was woken up early. He was a particularly heavy sleeper, and when Kirishima had shaken him awake after he’d slept through all three alarms that’d gone off in the room, all of the spitting of curses and profanities were to be expected. (Though, Kirishima had to admit, he couldn’t take the blonde seriously with the way his hair was smashed down on one side and the pillow crease marks on his cheeks that were sort of endearing—not that Kirishima would ever admit to the blonde that he thought so.)

“What fucking dickweasel decided it’s fucking okay to make school start this goddamn early?” he grumbled as he threw his blankets off. Running a hand frustratedly through his hair a few times was all it took to get it to stick out again.

Kirishima grinned, amused. “Dickweasel?” he asked, laughing.

“What?” Bakugou spit. “What the fuck else am I supposed to call the moron who made this shitty rule?”

“Nah, man, you have a point. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard ‘dickweasel’ before,” Kirishima told him as he was combing through the closet for something to wear. He was just making a mental note to do some laundry soon when the bathroom door swung shut with more force than necessary, and his grin of amusement at Bakugou’s grumpiness never so much as faltered.

“How have you not heard dickweasel before?” the blonde was saying a minute later as he emerged from the bathroom.

“I dunno,” Kirishima told him. “You’ve got a pretty colorful vocabulary.”

“...thanks, I guess,” the blonde grumbled before he yanked one of the drawers to his dresser open and started pawing through it, seemingly yanking clothes out at random.

Kirishima was only vaguely aware of his amused grin at the more-than-usually grumpy Bakugou as he got dressed himself. He was only just finishing pulling his t-shirt over his head when Bakugou turned around, his still sleepy eyes narrowing as he saw the redhead adjusting the shirt.

“How the fuck do you get a shirt over that freak hairdo anyway?” he asked.

“‘S not super hard. The gel is so stiff that it doesn’t really affect it. ‘Course, I usually like to change my shirt first , but I tend to forget sometimes.”

“Hmph,” grunted the blonde.

“Hey, you want me to wait for you to head to the mess hall?” Kirishima offered, sticking his wallet, phone, and room key into his pockets.

“...sure, I guess.” With that, Bakugou yanked the black t-shirt he wore to bed over his head to start getting dressed.

And Kirishima would be lying if he said he didn’t look at the blonde’s bare torso despite flopping back into his bed and reaching for his DS. He didn’t know why he was surprised, however, that Bakugou was toned. And he meant really toned, with a freaking six pack and everything, though it wasn’t too much (not at all; in fact Kirishima would go so far as to argue it was just the right amount of muscle), it was enough to make Kirishima feel inferior. He had some muscle himself, but it suddenly felt like the work he’d put in at the gym last summer wasn’t nearly enough.

His face suddenly felt hot.

And then his mouth was opening, and words were flying out of it as if his stupid tongue had a mind of its own.

“Yo, nice tattoo,” he said.

Bakugou paused in stuffing his head through the hole in the typically black v-neck t-shirt he had his arms through to glance down at the left side of his chest, where the tattoo of a grenade in the shape of a skull was etched into his skin.

“Thanks,” the blonde quipped before tugging the shirt the rest of the way on. “At least one other person thinks so,” he muttered.

“Whattaya mean?”

“My parents fucking hate it,” Bakugou explained casually, as if talking about his day. “It was the ‘last straw’ when they were deciding to make me come to this shitty school. Like I fuckin’ care, though, ‘cause it’s not like I murdered a puppy, and it’s my body.”

“I agree, man. I’m sorry your parents are like that.”

The blonde shrugged again in the midst of finishing getting dressed. “Like I said, I don’t give a fuck.”

“So does it mean anything or whatever?” Kirishima asked. He’d completely forgotten about the game device resting in his hand.

“Not really.” Bakugou dumped his pajamas into his laundry basket.

“No? ‘Cause it kinda reminds me of Green Day,” Kirishima said thoughtfully. It was clear by the way Bakugou’s eyes narrowed in his direction that he had no idea what Kirishima was talking about. “Y’know, that one logo of theirs?” supplied the redhead. When the confused expression only hardened, the DS nearly slipped from Kirishima’s fingers. “Dude, you’ve never heard of Green Day?” he blurted, surprised.

“Of fucking course I’ve heard of Green Day, moron,” the blonde defended quickly. “What logo are you talking about?”

Kirishima couldn’t help but blink at him, shocked. “The American Idiot logo, man! It’s like their most famous album!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? I don’t keep up with their shit.”

“Dude…” Kirishima tossed his DS back on the table beside his bed before fumbling to slide his phone from his pocket. One quick google image search had half a dozen photos of said logo filling the small screen. Clicking on the first, he practically thrust the device in Bakugou’s direction. “No way you haven’t seen this before.”

Bakugou glared at the screen for only a second before yanking the blankets on his bed up over the pillows. “Of course I’ve seen that before, dumbass. You think I live under a rock?” he grumbled, not bothering to flatten out the wrinkles.

Kirishima relaxed. “See? I knew you’d seen it.” He locked the phone and pocketed it again as Bakugou disappeared back into the bathroom with his eyeliner pencil. “D’you not listen to them, though?” the redhead called after.

“Not really,” Bakugou said, voice slightly muffled by the wall between them.

Kirishima stood and crossed the room to the bathroom. Bakugou hadn’t shut the door, so he took it as a sign that it was okay to approach and tentatively leaned against the doorframe. “So then what kinda stuff do you listen to?” he asked as Bakugou was in the middle of smudging black beneath his right eye.

“Dunno. All kinds of shit.” Bakugou snapped the lid back on his eyeliner and moved back into the room to stuff his feet into his shoes and sling his backpack over his shoulder.

Kirishima spoke as he followed the blonde’s lead. “You got a favorite band or something? Or a favorite genre?”

“Not really. I like metal and stuff, but I don’t really pick favorites,” said the blonde.

Being the last one out the door, Kirishima was the one to lock it. “What about stuff like Shinedown?” he was asking as he did so before they headed toward the door at the end of the hallway.

“Who?” the blonde muttered.

“Shinedown, man. Have you never heard of ‘em?”

“Nope.”

Kirishima nearly tripped over his own shoes, his eyes wide with shock and staring at his roommate like he’d been slapped. “Seriously?! I mean, I don’t really like to play favorites either, but I friggen grew up with Shinedown! And I mean, they’re not metal, but they’re still damn good.”

“So then what genre are they?”

“Rock,” Kirishima put simply, relaxing from the initial surprise. “If you like metal, you’ll probably like them if you’re cool with something a little bit softer.”

“Are they like Green Day or what?”

“Mm, sorta, but in my opinion, they’re better,” the redhead said proudly.

“In your biased opinion?” Bakugou snorted; Kirishima thought he detected the slightest of cocky grins on Bakugou’s lips as he kept his eyes on the blonde as they walked, but he couldn’t be sure because if it had been there, it was very brief and very subtle.

“Well, yeah,” Kirishima said with his own, very not subtle grin. “I don’t think they’re as popular, though, which is sad. I’d kill to see ‘em in concert together.”

“So what the fuck do they sound like, anyway?”

“You wanna hear ‘em?” Kirishima asked, hopeful. By that time they were very nearly to the mess hall. “You got Spotify? ‘Cause I can show you my playlist of favorites if ya want. I mean, I like pretty much all of their songs, but there are some that are playlist-worthy.”

“...sure,” the blonde mumbled. They were both silent as he handed Kirishima his phone, unlocked, and open on the music app. The two stopped just outside the double doors of the mess hall building while Kirishima searched up his playlist and handed the device back to Bakugou, who tapped the ‘save’ button and pocketed his phone after locking it once again.

“I think you’ll like ‘em,” Kirishima said, holding the door open for his roommate. “Lemme know what you think, yeah?”

“Yeah, whatever,” the blonde mumbled, seemingly too distracted by the appetizing smell that met them as they entered the air conditioned building. With a giddy feeling of hope held in his stomach, Kirishima followed the other toward the large buffet of food on the other side of the room.

Chapter Text

Bakugou

So Kirishima’s taste in music turned out to not be complete shit, but Bakugou wasn’t about to tell him he thought so. And, it turned out, Bakugou had heard Shinedown before, he just hadn’t known it. Though to be honest, that wasn’t a surprise—he was fucking awful at remembering names and shit he didn’t care about.

Bakugou didn’t really even know why he was listening to Dumb Hair’s stupid playlist. He had plenty of his own music to listen to, and it wasn’t easy for him to get into unfamiliar shit, especially when recommended by someone he hadn’t known very long. Honestly, he didn’t get why he talked to Kirishima so much at all . The fucker wasn’t even that interesting, and he was damn persistent and hard to ignore, with his big stupid hair and that toothy smile he always seemed to have plastered onto his face. Until he’d met Dumb Hair, Bakugou didn’t really know what the fuck people meant by someone’s smile “brightening up the room.” But Kirishima’s was like the fucking sun—stupidly bright and hard to ignore.

So he listened to the idiot’s playlist and enjoyed it more than he wanted to admit to even himself as he sauntered down the sidewalk toward his dorm room, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped under the weight of his backpack that he swore was going to give him a fucking hunch before he turned twenty. After four days in a row of waking up at the asscrack of fucking dawn just to make it to class on time and avoid getting screamed at again, Bakugou was more than ready for a fucking nap. Seriously—when the shitty dark circles under his eyes were almost as dark as his eyeliner, it was a serious fucking problem.

“You wouldn’t have that problem if you went to bed earlier, Katsuki.”

Huffing, Bakugou kicked a stray rock across the sidewalk. His mother was basically a thousand fucking miles away and he could still hear her shitty nagging. Ugh.

The dorm room wasn’t empty when he made it back, and after yanking off his headphones to rest around his neck he paused with his hand on the knob when he heard a muffled version of his name through the door.

The fuck ?

It was definitely Dumb Hair’s voice, but who the fuck was he talking to?

“So like, are you gonna do anything about it?” another voice asked, and Bakugou had to strain to make out the muted words. It was a familiar voice, but he couldn’t put a name or a face to it.

“I dunno, man. He’s my roommate…” Pressing his ear to the stupid door only made it worse, and Bakugou missed the rest of Kirishima’s sentence.

“Dunno. Maybe,” the other responded. “Let’s just go meet Sero and Jirou in the game room. Bet they can tell you what to do.”

“Alright.”

Bakugou scrambled to take a step back and push the door open, keeping his face passive. As expected, the idiots in the room—Kirishima and the blonde one whose name Bakugou didn’t remember—shut up the second the door opened. In an obvious attempt to not look guilty and having the exact opposite effect, Kirishima sat up and gave Bakugou a plastic we-totally-weren’t-just-talking-about-you smile.

“Hey, Baku!” he said probably too quickly. Idiot.

Bakugou barely spared him a look as he shuffled over to his bed and tossed the stupid backpack onto it, quipping a “sup.” He didn’t wanna fucking talk to someone who was gonna talk about him behind his back, but he wasn’t about to give away the fact that he’d been listening . Plus, he wasn’t in the mood for a stupid argument anyway.

“Um… we were just about to head to the game room, so I’ll see ya later, alright?” Dumb Hair said as he stood up. His stupid friend was already halfway to the door, having said nothing.

“Whatever,” the blonde grumbled, pretending not to notice that the idiot didn’t invite him to join like he usually did. But seriously, whatever . It’s not like he would’ve joined them anyway. If the shitbag wanted to go gossip with his stupid gossipy friends and shit talk him behind his back, it was fine with him; after three years of being forced to attend public high school, he was used to that shit by now.

Kirishima didn’t say anything else as he practically escaped the room with his friend, who never said a word to begin with. When the room was silent again, Bakugou practically tore the headphones from around his neck and tossed it, along with the phone they were connected to, down onto his bed before shoving his backpack off and flopping onto it himself. He knew the second his face smashed into his pillowcase that his eyeliner had smudged down his cheek, but he couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck right then.

No, all he could seem to fucking think about was that stupid fuck Kirishima and whatever the hell he’d been saying about him before he walked in, as well as how the two of them practically stampeded out of the room not two seconds later. It didn’t make any fucking sense that the loser would share his music and act like everything was fine one minute and then act so fucking shady the next.

Bakugou knew it shouldn’t bother him so fucking much, and he had no flying clue why it did, but it was the only thing on his mind until his dumb brain finally let him sleep.

Kirishima

Kirishima’s heart was pounding as he and Kaminari made their escape out into the hallway after Bakugou had walked in on the middle of their conversation about him . His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he could feel the nervous sweat collecting on his palms.

“Dude, d’you think he heard us?” the redhead practically hissed, whispering as though they weren’t already almost outside, a ways away from his roommate.

“I don’t know, dude. I hope not, but with the way he was glaring when he walked in…”

“Yeah, but he’s always glaring, man.”

“Hard to say. You’re probably thinking about it too much, though. It kinda looked like he’d had his headphones on, anyway.”

Kirishima huffed out a breath, trying to calm his heartbeat. He felt silly being so paranoid that Bakugou had heard any of their conversation, but he couldn’t erase the feeling nagging at the back of his mind that the blonde had heard something .

“Yeah, I hope you’re right. But uh… let’s not talk about this in my room anymore, ‘kay? Just in case.”

“Yup,” agreed Kaminari, though it wasn’t without a smug smile to the side at his friend. “Man, it’s only been like a month but you’re already in pretty deep,” he said.

“No I’m not,” Kirishima denied quickly, but the jumping of his stomach told otherwise. Not that Kaminari needed to know about it, though. “I mean, maybe I could , eventually, but that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I just don’t wanna decide that I do like him and then make shit awkward since he’s my roommate and everything, ya know?”

“I get it, Kiri. I felt the same way when Sero introduced me to Jirou, but sometimes you gotta take a risk.”

“But Jirou isn’t your roommate, bro,” Kirishima said. He’d found a rock on the sidewalk and had been kicking it along in front of him before making it to one of the fountains and picking it up to drop it in as they continued walking.

“See, that’s why we should just ask her. She knows way more about this stuff than we do.”

“Good point.”

Their conversation fell silent for the remainder of the walk, leaving Kirishima’s thoughts to wander back to Bakugou, back through the few weeks they’d been roommates, back through not realizing how much he really liked the blonde until his friends had, once again, teased him about blushing when he told them he shared his dumb Shinedown playlist with Bakugou.

Truth be told, he knew he liked Bakugou, as a friend if nothing else, but as his friends had done the teasing and he had tried (and failed at) defending himself, he realized it was already too damn late.

But shit, he couldn’t help that Bakugou’s eyes were his favorite freaking color or that that angular face was a huge weakness of his! It wasn’t his fault that something about Bakugou’s gruff way of speaking made him kinda tingly inside, or that even though he had such a rough personality and the tendency to sometimes snap on a whim, Kirishima was intrigued by him, was interested in getting to know him more than he’d been interested in getting to know someone probably ever. And if that meant proving Kaminari right about him “liking people who were a little rough around the edges,” so be it.

Just as expected, Sero and Jirou were already in the game room, deep into what looked like a way too intense game of air hockey. It was usual for them to get so competitive with it, though, being the best two players out of their group.

“You got this, babe!” Kaminari cheered as the door swung shut behind them. Just as he did so, the puck slipped right past Jirou’s hand and made a loud clack as it fell into her slot.

“Ohh, now you’ve done it,” Kirishima chuckled.

“You’re gonna pay for that later, Denki,” Jirou said, not even turning around because Sero was already tugging the puck out of the slot and sending it across the table.

“You’re screwed,” Kirishima told his friend, grinning, as he flopped onto the couch beside the air hockey table to watch.

And screwed he was. As soon as Jirou still managed to beat Sero after the loss of that point, she curled her finger at her boyfriend, a sly smirk on her face. It was no surprise when he had his ass handed to him, either. When the score was 12-3, Kaminari held up his hands in surrender, stepping away from the table.

After that, Jirou had turned her dark eyes on Kirishima. “Two down, one to go. Ready to get your ass beat, Kiri?”

The redhead, too, held his hands up. “Nah, dude.”

“Aw, don’t be a chicken!” Sero teased.

“Hey, a real man knows when to pick his battles, and I know I’m no match for Jirou.”

“Smart guy,” Jirou said.

“That’s not even why we came to find you guys, anyway,” Kaminari said. “Kiri’s having guy troubles.”

“Whoa, dude!” Kirishima interceded quickly. “Don’t put it like that, man!”

“Well am I wrong?” Kaminari grinned as Kirishima could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

“It’s about Bakugou, right?” Sero asked.

“Yup,” Kaminari said before Kirishima could even attempt to open his mouth again and explain. “Kiri’s got a crush on him but he doesn’t know what to do about it.”

“Dude! I never said that!” In the midst of his attempted defense, Kirishima’s voice shot up a couple octaves and his face was practically on fire. Man, he hated being teased!

“Oh, and he’s still in denial about it, too,” Kaminari tacked on.

“Bro, I don’t think you have to say it,” Sero said.

“It’s kinda written all over your face,” Jirou added. She was grinning, though.

Embarrassed, the redhead rubbed his hands over his face as Jirou’s phone chimed. “You guys friggen suck,” he complained. “I don’t know how I feel about him. That’s my whole problem, and the reason we came to find you.”

“I dunno how to help you, Kiri. I’ve never had a crush on another guy,” Sero told him.

“Does it matter what freakin’ gender they are?”

“Guys, Mina wants us to meet her in the girls’ lounge. So you can get a… er, fourth opinion, I guess,” Jirou cut in.

There was an unmistakable fluff of pink hair poking over the top of one of the large leather couches in the girl’s lounge when the four of them arrived. Across the middle of it was a set of familiar cheetah print headphones, proving that the girl was clearly and fully distracted by her phone.

Before the others got too close, Kirishima held out his arm, stopping them with a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“What are you doing?” Kaminari mumbled.

The redhead’s response was to hold a finger up to his lips, motion for them to stay put, and turn to tiptoe toward the pink-headed girl who was entirely oblivious to what was happening behind her. Careful not to make a sound (just in case) and deliberately placing his weight so she wouldn’t feel him coming, Kirishima approached the back of the couch. Sure enough, Mina was fully immersed in some YouTube tutorial displayed on her phone. As carefully as he could without alerting her of his presence, he gently tugged the left side of her headphones away from her ear as he could hear the others snickering from behind him.

“Boo!” he said into her ear as soon as the headphone was moved.

As expected, Mina squealed and jumped, flailing away and causing her phone to fling onto the floor in the process. Her gold eyes were the size of the moon with startlement as they fell upon Kirishima. Behind him, the others were cackling.

“Kiri!” she squeaked in complaint. “What’d you do that for?!” she accused, swatting at him with one hand while the other tugged the headphones from her ears.

“‘Cause it’s funny,” Kirishima told her, grinning. By then the others had joined him, still chuckling at the tinge of pink on Mina’s cheeks that remained from her moment of fear.

“Is not!” she complained.

“Kinda is,” Kaminari chimed in.

Pouting, the girl swiped her phone from the floor. “Why the heck do I even hang out with you guys?” she grumbled.

“Don’t worry, Mina, you’ll have your opportunity for revenge here soon,” Sero said, smug, and reminding Kirishima essentially why they’d shown up to the girls’ dorm to find Mina in the first place.

As soon as she heard that, her features relaxed while the other four went around the couch and joined her, either on the cushions beside her or on the floor between them and the glass coffee table in front of the sofa. “Ohh yeaaah,” she said. “I heard Kiri’s got a cruuush.”

“Man, I could’ve sworn we were seniors in high school and not sixth graders,” Kirishima mumbled from his place on the floor, scratching through the gel-stiff hair at the back of his head.

“Oh, shut up!”

“And stop averting the subject away from it,” Jirou chimed in. “If you’re trying to make us believe you don’t like him, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“Hey, I don’t even know if I like him!” Kirishima defended. “Kaminari’s just doing the usual and jumping to conclusions.”

“I think if anyone would know if you like someone, it would be me. I was there all through middle school and stuff when you’ve liked people in the past. You just gotta stop being in denial about it,” Kaminari said.

The redhead sighed, dropping his arm back into his lap. Kaminari’s prodding about all of this, including the teasing administered by Sero, Jirou, and now Mina, was starting to make his head spin. Sure, he thought Bakugou was attractive (like, seriously, it was ridiculous— that he could definitely admit), but thinking someone was attractive and actually having feelings for them were two different things. Would he have minded if Bakugou for some reason wanted to go out with him? Hell no. He’d jump on that. But he couldn’t even determine if he knew the blonde well enough to be able to say he liked him in such a way, let alone say they were more than roommates and acquaintances.

These were the circles Kirishima had been going around over and over in his head as his friends were half teasing, half bickering about it, and he hadn’t been paying attention until Mina spoke up, louder over the other three.

“Guys, I think we get that you think Kiri likes his roommate, but don’t you think we should let him figure it out for himself before we go pushing our opinions on him?”

Kirishima could feel himself grinning before she’d even finished the sentence. “Thanks, Mina. And sorry for scaring you earlier.”

Despite the apology, she still gave him a stern pouty face (that he knew was joking under the surface). “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. I’m still gonna get you back for that, though,” she promised.

All Kirishima had time to do was hold up his hands before Jirou was saying, “So how do you know when you like someone, Kiri?”

Red eyes blinked up at dark ones for a moment. “I… don’t really know, honestly. I mean, I’ve liked people before, but it’s been a long time and it only lasted maybe a few weeks before it was gone. That’s kinda why I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. Guess maybe I’m paranoid that this is gonna happen again and I don’t wanna go makin’ things awkward between me and the dude I live with only for that to happen again and have the rest of the year suck because of it.”

“That’s completely fair,” Mina said.

“Alright, but how did you know you liked them?” Jirou continued, almost as though Mina had never spoken.

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s been more than a few weeks this time and you blush pretty much every time we talk about him,” Sero added.

All Kirishima could do was voice his thoughts. “Finding someone attractive and actually liking them are two different things, guys.”

“But you blush , man,” Kaminari said, leaning forward a bit. “Like, half the guys on campus think Momo is hot but they don’t blush the way you do when they talk about her. It’s different.” At that comment, Jirou sent her elbow in the direction of Kaminari’s ribs, causing him to flinch but automatically turn with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, babe. You know you’re the only one for me, though.”

“You’re an idiot, Denki,” she muttered.

“Guys, just friggen tell me what to do,” Kirishima mumbled, leaning back against the coffee table and letting his head hang back in frustration. “How the hell do I figure out if I like him or not?”

“I mean, it kinda sounds like you should give it a couple more weeks, yeah?” Sero suggested.

“And pay attention to how you feel and act around him,” Mina added. “Like, if there are butterflies and you feel super happy when you’re talking to him, and you start to feel like you wanna be around him all the time and stuff, I think you’ll know then .”

“And,” Jirou cut in, “I think when you know, you’ll just know. You can’t really force it.”

A long, frustrated breath blew past Kirishima’s lips. He was afraid they would say something like that, but truthfully he’d already sort of known he’d have no other choice but to wait it out. And damn, he hated waiting. Unfortunately at this point, that seemed to be his only option. So wait he would.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Waiting sucked . It had only been a few days since then and Kirishima felt like he was going freaking bonkers. As much as Jirou and the others kept telling him not to think too much about the whole thing, the advice seemed to have the opposite effect and was almost the only thing on his mind. And, in the midst of ‘too much thinking about it’, he’d found that he actually… really wanted to like Bakugou. Whether he actually did was a different story.

By the time Friday rolled around, Kirishima couldn’t help but having noticed that his roommate was quite a bit more standoffish than usual. His ramblings in the mornings when he was woken up before he was ready (read: every morning) were somehow grumpier than they’d been over the past couple of weeks, and he hardly even spoke to Kirishima as he trudged around getting ready. He stopped leaving with Kirishima to head to breakfast, too. Not only that, but his presence in the room in general while the redhead was there was more scarce than usual.

As a result, Kirishima held a knot of uneasiness in his stomach, and try as he might, he couldn’t shake off the bad feeling. And yet he found he couldn’t muster the guts to confront Bakugou about it.

Friday morning, Bakugou had even gone as far as to leave without him rather than waiting as he had before on the seldom occasion he was ready before the redhead. He hadn’t even muttered a ‘see ya’ before the door practically slammed behind him.

As Kirishima sat at breakfast with his friends, only picking at the food that he’d normally be stuffing his face with, his friends merely chalked his behavior up to frustration about his undefined feelings for the blonde.

Kaminari had nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. “You’re staring an awful lot in the direction of Bakugou’s table,” he teased. And Kirishima knew he was; he couldn’t help it. He swore he could feel the ice from the cold shoulder Bakugou was giving him from across the entire mess hall, where the blonde sat with his usual crowd—Midoriya, Todoroki, and their other friends whose names Kirishima couldn’t remember off the top of his head.

“Why don’t you sit with them for once?” Mina had suggested. “You’re friends with Midoriya, right?”

Kirishima’d only shrugged, trying not to give too much about his thoughts away. “We sit next to each other and exchange notes in algebra sometimes, but I don’t really think he and I are friends enough to eat together.”

“Then go sit with Bakugou ,” Kaminari pressed in a hush, though the person in question was quite a ways away and unless he’d had superhuman hearing, wouldn’t have been able to hear the remark over the chatter echoing throughout the mess hall. “He’s your roommate, man. And you guys are pretty much friends now. Between the both of them, it wouldn’t be weird.”

“I dunno. I feel like it would be too obvious,” he said in a lame excuse.

“I think you’re only saying that because you feel it would be obvious since you’ve got this dilemma going on,” Jirou pointed out.

Kirishima had only shrugged again and the subject dropped after that.

⚜️

“Yo, Kiri, wanna catch a movie with us tonight?” Kaminari was asking between fifth and sixth period as they were headed in the same direction.

“Can’t, man,” Kirishima sighed. “History teacher just reminded us about the test on Monday that I totally forgot to study for, so I have to cram all weekend.”

“Save it for tomorrow, dude,” Kaminari reasoned. “Movie’s only a couple hours long, and then you can get back and study. You can even invite Bakugou,” he said with a teasing grin. A grin Kirishima made a point to ignore .

“Sorry, dude, but I really gotta study. I’m already close to having a D in this class and if I fail I might have to do summer school.”

“A D isn’t even failing.”

“Close enough. My mom will definitely give me an earful, anyway. I’ll catch a movie with you guys next week or something, okay? I gotta get to class, so I’ll see you later.”

Kirishima left his friend with a fist bump and a disappointed look, but he seriously couldn’t help that he sucked ass at history. Though, being honest, while having to study was absolutely the reason he couldn’t (or, rather, shouldn’t ) go to the movies with the guys, under the surface it was an excuse to get out of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t wanna go—he hadn’t lied or anything—but this whole Bakugou issue had his mind feeling like mush and he’d had more than enough teasing from his friends about the whole thing for the week. Weirdly enough, he was looking forward to burying himself in a book (even if it was a boring-ass textbook) and doing his absolute best not to think about it for at least a good couple of hours.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for Bakugou to be in the room when he made it back after eighth period was over. In the past week or so, Bakugou hadn’t once been in the room when Kirishima got back no matter what time it was. In fact, there’d been once where he’d gotten in so late that he’d probably broken dorm curfew and had woken Kirishima up when he shut the door.

Needless to say, he was surprised to see the blonde stretched across his bed, doing nothing but—oddly enough—staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn’t so much as look up when Kirishima walked in.

“Oh hey, man,” he said, doing his best to ignore the weird fluttering of his insides as soon as he saw the blonde. It wasn’t a bad fluttering, but it wasn’t a particularly good one, either.

Bakugou said nothing, so Kirishima silently kicked off his shoes and dropped his backpack onto his bed. He was just settling down with his books, a notebook, and a pencil when he glanced over at his roommate, who hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle.

And suddenly the words were flying out of his face without permission. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Fucking peachy,” Bakugou drawled.

A deep frown settled itself across Kirishima’s brow. “What’s up, dude?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

That worked. With a glare, Bakugou’s head turned toward him. “What?” he snapped.

“C’mon, Bakugou, you’ve been avoiding me all week and acting like I pissed in your shoes or something. I’m not an idiot—I know something’s up.”

In a flash, the blonde sat up, his glare all but relaxing. “First of all, I beg to differ that you’re not an idiot. Secondly, if you’re so fucking worried about ‘what’s up,’ fine—I fucking heard you and your dumb friend talking about me the other day, and then you guys fucking rushed out of the room like I’m the freakin’ plague. So I’m pissed that you didn’t just fucking tell me you have a problem with me instead of saying shit about it behind my back like an immature fuckwad.”

Kirishima’s back stiffened, something catching in his throat. Between the harsh tone of Bakugou’s voice and his words overall, it became difficult to swallow around. And dammit, he’d known Bakugou had heard him and Kaminari the other day. He could feel it in his freaking gut, and those gut feelings proved to be right more often than not. Still, there was some sort of relief mixed in with all of the tension inside of him—Bakugou clearly hadn’t heard enough to know the true context of their conversation, and that it was the exact opposite of having a problem with him.

He had to come up with something, and fast .

“Whoa whoa, okay,” he said quickly, holding up his hands and trying to backtrack. “That’s not what it was at all, dude. Seriously. We were talking ‘cause I was actually worried you have issues with me , and that I’d made a bad impression or something, and I was trying to find a way to make up for it, I guess. I, uh, went to Kaminari for advice about it, ‘cause, y’know, he’s one of my best friends.”

The glare etched into Bakugou’s features shifted from anger to confusion. “What the fuck made you think I have a problem with you?”

Trying to remain casual despite his racing heart, Kirishima shrugged. “I dunno… just seems like you wanna punch me in the face sometimes, or that you’re, like, super annoyed by me,” he said.

Bakugou seemed to search his face for a long minute before he crossed his arms, essentially stuffing his fists into his armpits. “You’re a moron. That’s just the way I am , Dumb Hair. You don’t gotta take that shit personally.”

After swallowing, the redhead let loose a sheepish laugh, finally breaking his gaze away from the intense red one across the room. “Yeah, I kinda realize that now.” And he did, though his excuse about what Bakugou had probably heard wasn’t fully accurate. True, there were times where he really believed Bakugou wanted to plant his knuckles into the side of Kirishima’s face or kick him in the shins, but it hadn’t taken him long to learn that it really just how Bakugou was. He hadn’t taken any of the insults personally, at least not after the first few weeks of living with him and simply learning about him as a person.

While he felt bad for half-lying, Kirishima couldn’t have Bakugou knowing the true context of that conversation. Not yet. Not before he himself knew what the hell was going on in his own brain.

“Sorry, man,” Kirishima continued. “‘S not usually like me to make something out of nothing. We cool, though?”

“As long as you’re not gonna talk about me behind my back and say shit to my face from now on, yeah, we’re good,” Bakugou told him, matter-of-fact.

The all-too familiar feeling of a grin found its way back onto Kirishima’s face. “Deal,” he agreed, meeting the blonde’s sturdy gaze again. Though as soon as the grin was there, it faded again, replaced by a confused ruffle in his forehead. “Except… wait, what made you think I had a problem with you? Other than us talking about you, I mean… like, did I seriously give you that impression?”

For the first time since Bakugou had sat up, his eyeliner-smudged, narrow, red eyes tugged away from Kirishima’s face, cutting to his right. The hesitation was clear in the way he leaned slightly back before he finally spoke. “...I don’t fucking know. People tend to hate me for the same reason you thought I hated you, so I just assumed,” he mumbled with a stiff shrug. “That four-eyed prick did for sure, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you and Iida are like, polar opposites, man.”

“So what, you think you and me are so alike?” grumbled Bakugou as his eyes lifted once more. (And Kirishima realized he really liked the way it felt to have Bakugou’s hard, scarlet eyes trained right on him.)

Quickly, he brushed off that thought and said, “Well, more alike than you and Iida, anyway.”

“Yeah? The fuck makes you think that?” Almost challenging, Bakugou leaned forward, the one pierced brow cocked. There was some sort of glint in his eyes, though, one that Kirishima thought to be somewhat amused. It was only then that relief washed over him after several days of worrying (probably too much, he had to admit) about why Bakugou had been avoiding him, and he grinned again.

“I mean, you’re kind of a rebel, right? I used to be, too. Not horribly , but I got this scar on my eye and the nickname red riot from trying to be, anyway,” he explained, jabbing his thumb up towards his right eye.

“The fuck? What scar?” Bakugou squinted as if he was trying to see it.

“The one on my eyelid, man,” Kirishima said. “It’s kinda small and not too much darker than the rest of my skin, but it’s there.”

The blonde leaned even further forward—so far, in fact, that it the bed sunk under his weight enough that it looked as though he was about to topple off of it. Before he did, he sat up straight again. “You’re shitting me. I don’t see anything.”

“I’m not!” the redhead quickly defended, jumping up from his seat. Crossing the floor space between the two beds in a mere three strides, he held his right eyelid shut with a finger and leaned down for Bakugou to see. Skeptical, the other leaned toward him, inspecting the eyelid for said scar while Kirishima did his best to keep his heart from bursting right out of his ribcage, unable to help but notice that Bakugou’s face—that damn handsome face he knew he liked—was a mere three inches or so away from his own.

And hell, he wished he’d been able to have both eyes open, to see Bakugou in greater detail at such close proximity. As soon as he had that thought, he shut it down and was thankful when Bakugou said, “Damn, look at that. The fuck happened?”

Kirishima backed up to his bed and plopped onto its edge. “I was in like seventh or eighth grade and I kinda brought fireworks to school,” he explained, a bit sheepish.

“That scar is too damn small to be from a fucking firework, idiot.”

“No—yeah, you’re totally right! It wasn’t from a firework. Me and a couple friends ended up ditching one of our classes to sneak off campus and set some off. But we weren’t really that careful and we ended up getting caught. Like idiots, we ran from the campus security guard who found us and tried to jump a fence, but I kinda tripped and was unfortunate to basically faceplant into some broken glass. Cut open my hands and everything, and I was terrified I was gonna go blind in one eye,” he said, laughing as he remembered. “It only cut my eyelid, though, but it bled a lot . Like, I seriously had blood all over my face and dripping all down the front of my shirt. The school nurse said it was just ‘cause it was a head wound, but because of all the blood I guess one of my friends came up with the nickname and spread it around campus. It died down after about a year, though.”

By the end of Kirishima’s retelling, Bakugou’s features held an unmistakable, almost cocky grin. “Damn. Never woulda guessed you’d do someshit like that.”

“What? Break the rules? You already know about my board,” Kirishima told him, gesturing at the closet where said board was stashed. “I’m not completely innocent. But… I guess I’m quite a bit more mature than I was back then, and definitely never been ballsy enough to write ‘fuck you’ on the wall in a staff bathroom.”

With a snort, Bakugou uncrossed his arms to fold his hands back behind his head. “That’s practically nothing compared to some other shit I’ve gotten into.”

“Oh yeah?” the redhead asked, grinning. “Like what?”

Studying momentarily forgotten, Kirishima was more than intrigued as Bakugou launched into a few stories of times he’d gotten in trouble throughout middle and high school. In the midst of his stories, they ended up on the floor between the beds facing each other, Kirishima having piled his books and things around him (though he still ignored them, too preoccupied with stories much more intriguing than whatever shit was in that history textbook).

Nearly an hour had passed and the sun had reached the point low enough to be shining directly in their window by the time Bakugou had finished retelling the story about his tattoo and how his mom had flipped out when she’d discovered it.

“Damn, so that was the last straw then, huh?” Kirishima asked. “Why they sent you here.”

“Yup. Not like I didn’t put up a fight, though, which is why my dad came up with this shitty ultimatum and is basically the only reason I broke down and agreed.” The blonde leaned his head back against his bed as he continually tossed up and caught his stress ball.

“What was the ultimatum?” Kirishima was too curious not to ask.

“A fucking bike.”

A short red brow hiked up. “...a bike?”

“Not just a fucking bike , you moron. A motorcycle.”

“Oh… oh! Right. You have a buncha pictures on your Instagram,” Kirishima recalled, nodding. “But how’s that an ultimatum?”

“I’ve wanted one since I was like, ten. And they’ve known it. But after all the shit I pulled at my old school and in middle school, they told me they were gonna dump all the money they’d been saving to get me one into some charity. When that didn’t ‘fix my bad behavior’—” he air quoted “—they decided to call fucking Aizawa and send me here, saying it’s my ‘last chance’ or whatever and that if I graduate with at least decent grades, they’d let me get a bike and take riding lessons.”

Kirishima found himself grinning again. “You like riding that much, huh? That you’d suffer through boarding school for it?”

The stress ball snapped back into Bakugou’s hand. “Lemme put it to you this way, Dumb Hair,” he said, “The first time I rode one with one of my dad’s friends, it practically fuckin’ saved me.” Bakugou propped a knee up, his eyes following nothing but the motion of the ball as it went up again.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Kirishima felt himself lean forward, intrigued.

“I mean it felt like freedom.”

“From what? From your parents?”

“From everything .”

The redhead was nodding again, leaning once more back into the side of his own bed. “I think I get it,” he said. “I feel that way when I’m skating sometimes. ‘S like a release, right? You kinda let go of everything outside and just focus on what you’re doing. And like, for a while that’s all that exists. It’s all that matters.”

The ball thumped into the ceiling before snapping once more into a waiting palm and Bakugou’s eyes, for the first time in several minutes, lifted back to Kirishima’s. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Kirishima’s responding grin was rueful, but only slightly. “Yeah, man. I miss that feeling.”

“The fuck you mean? You can skate all around here every day.”

“True, but I only really get into that groove when I’m at the skate park, and the nearest one to this school is like twelve miles away, which is way farther than I should be going if I wanna stay out of trouble.”

The blonde snorted. “Sucks to suck.”

“Yup.” Kirishima popped the p . “Anyway, I gotta get studying. If you’re serious about that bike, you should get your homework done, too.”

The blonde clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he discarded his stress ball on his bed and yanked his backpack off of it anyway. As Kirishima was flipping through his history textbook to find the page he’d left off on, Bakugou dumped his own books out of his backpack, an aggravated scowl on his face.

“Hey, uh, mind if I turn on some background music?” Kirishima asked before he started reading.

“Whatever,” the blonde mumbled.

Kirishima opened one of his favorite Spotify playlists, a mixture he’d made of all of his favorite bands, and tapped shuffle. Leaving it at a low volume, he set the phone on the floor beside him and, reluctantly, dove into his textbook as Bakugou leaned over his own notes. Aside from the music, the two fell into a comfortable silence of studying until the sun went down.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this shit for now,” Kirishima groaned as he slumped back, letting his head fall back against his bed and his eyes shut. Even on the backs of his eyelids he could see afterimages of the stupid textbook he’d been staring at for far too long.

“You’re fucking telling me,” Bakugou muttered. “Math is shit.”

The sound of Bakugou’s book slamming shut and the vibration of it hitting the floor between them prompted Kirishima to look up again. Ironically enough, the blonde had just slumped back into the same position, his hands rubbing down his face. Somehow, though, he hadn’t smeared his eyeliner down his cheeks.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kirishima sighed, reaching for his phone. With a long yawn he unlocked it, scrolled through his notifications to clear them, and began his usual routine of mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. It was only a moment later when Bakugou followed his lead, and the two sat in a comfortable quiet save for the music still emitting from the speakers of Kirishima’s phone for a while.

“Dude,” Kirishima said with a snort after a bit. “This is you.”

“What?” Bakugou muttered, briefly looking up.

“Hold up, I’m tagging you.”

“The fuck…?” Bakugou’s narrow, confused eyes fell back upon his phone when it dinged with a notification. Kirishima couldn’t help peering over the top of his own phone to watch the other’s reaction. He only knew Bakugou saw it when is brows smashed together.

“What the fuck is wrong with that cat?” the blonde muttered.

Laughing, Kirishima said, “I dunno man, but that’s not the point.”

“I fucking know that, you idiot.”

“What, you don’t like memes?” Kirishima asked, lowering his phone into his lap. “Even cat memes?”

“They’re fine, I guess…” the blonde mumbled, the edgy tone lacking in his voice for once. “I don’t usually give a shit if I’m late, though. It’s everyone else who gets bitchy.”

“Yeah, but because you gotta pass you know you freak out at least a little ,” the redhead teased lightheartedly.

Kirishima thought he heard the blonde huff sarcastically but he said nothing more as he went back to his phone. Kirishima followed his lead and scrolled a bit further down the page.

“Here, I found a better one,” he said after a minute as he was typing Bakugou’s username (that still sparked a laugh) into the comment section of said post. “I think you can probably relate to this one even better.”

Again he watched Bakugou’s reaction as his eyes skimmed across the image. By the end his eyebrows had inched upward and Kirishima swore he saw a going of amusement in his eyes.

“Make it vodka and fuck yeah, I’d do it.”

Kirishima chortled. “You like vodka ?” he asked.

“What, you don’t?”

“Never had it,” admitted Kirishima, sitting forward.

“Then you’re fuckin’ missing out.”

The redhead merely shrugged; he’d never had any interest in drinking, though he couldn’t say he was surprised that Bakugou had delved into it before.

“Oh crap,” he muttered suddenly as his eyes caught sight of the clock when he was closing Spotify. “The mess hall is gonna close in half an hour. Wanna go get some dinner real quick?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Bakugou said, mirroring Kirishima in standing up. “Whatever gets me away from this math shit.” He nudged said book with his foot until it disappeared under his bed.

Quickly the two stuffed their feet into their shoes, grabbed their keys, and headed out of the room side by side. It wasn’t until they were halfway to the door at the end of the hall that Kirishima realized that, for once, Bakugou had finally agreed to join him. His stomach fluttered at the thought.

“So where’d you find those, anyway?” Bakugou was muttering as they strode down the sidewalk. Kirishima’s arms swung lazily at his sides while Bakugou’s hands were stuffed into his pockets. The redhead was super aware of how close the other walked beside him with only about a foot of space between them. He didn’t want to over-analyze it and try to determine if it was a good thing but damn , his thoughts were already there and it was impossible to prevent.

“Find what?” he asked, forcing himself to outwardly remain cool. “The memes?”

“Yeah.”

“Just Insta—“

“No shit, Dumb Hair. I meant on Instagram.”

“Oh, um…” Kirishima swallowed. “They were… just on my timeline,” he said. And okay, it wasn’t a total lie. The first one really had been on his timeline. He wasn’t about to tell his roommate that he’d sorta, kinda went slightly out of his way to find the other. It was one he’d seen before only a few days ago that immediately reminded him of the blonde, but back then Bakugou was still kind-of avoiding him. Then he hadn’t nearly the kind of confidence it would take to send memes to Bakugou, but after their conversation in the room and exchanging stories about getting in trouble (mostly on Bakugou’s end) for a couple of hours, his confidence was restored and multiplied.

Needless to say, a night he expected to suck because of studying actually turned out to be fairly decent, and it was because of Bakugou .

Mina’s words from days ago snaked their way into his mind: “ Like, if there are butterflies and you feel super happy when you’re talking to him, and you start to feel like you wanna be around him all the time and stuff, I think you’ll know then .” They were followed by Jirou’s: “I think when you know, you’ll just know.”

Damn. Kirishima was screwed .

Bakugou

Bakugou was annoyed yet somehow entirely not surprised to see stupid Deku in the mess hall when he and Kirishima got there. Because that was just his luck.

Fortunately the loser was on his way out with the half-and-half bastard, but un fortunately it was right as he and Dumb Hair were on their way in , which gave him no room to dodge the weird, broccoli-haired loser. Even if he tended to sit with them during lunches and stuff, he could only take so much of Deku in one week, and this week’s quota after having been avoiding Dumb Hair was way past full.

“Hey, Kacchan! Oh, hey Kirishima,” Deku said with that gross grin of his.

“Yo, Midoriya,” Kirishima responded cheerfully, bumping fists with him, and then doing the same with Todoroki, who remained passive as he greeted him. “You know Bakugou?” Kirishima asked.

“Unfortunately,” Bakugou muttered.

“Yeah, he and I go way back,” Deku said as if Bakugou hadn’t even spoken. “We didn’t used to get along, though.”

“Nah? I think I can see why, man. Bakugou was telling me about some shit he’s gotten into in the past,” Kirishima said.

“Would you losers stop talking about me like I’m not right fucking here?”

Kirishima sent an apologetic smile in his direction. “Sorry, dude. ‘S pretty cool that you know Midoriya, though.”

“I’m surprised you never noticed. We all eat lunch together,” Midoriya said.

Dumb Hair shrugged casually. “Anyway, we were studying and totally spaced getting dinner, so we gotta hurry before the kitchen closes.”

“Oh, alright. We’ll see you guys later,” Deku said.

“See ya,” Kirishima said.

Bakugou didn’t so much as call out a ‘later, loser’ as he normally would have before he took off toward the dinner buffet. As expected, Kirishima trotted along behind him.

“How long have you known Midoriya?” he asked.

“Since we were like four,” Bakugou mumbled. They each took a plate from the end of the buffet before heading for their food of choice. Bakugou to merely throw a half-assed sandwich together while Kirishima practically attacked the macaroni and cheese.

“Really?”

“Yep. Sadly.”

“Aw, Midoriya’s not so bad. I mean, he’s pretty smart and probably the only reason I’m not failing math, honestly.”

“Well whoop-dee-doo for you,” Bakugou muttered. “He used to be the biggest fucking crybaby on the planet.”

Kirishima only chuckled under his breath—something the idiot did a lot —as they each grabbed a drink and languidly walked over to one of the nearest tables together to sit across from one another. “So, ‘Kacchan,’ huh?” he said with what he was probably trying to play off as a somewhat taunting grin, but his big, stupid, sparkling eyes ruined the effect.

Bakugou bounced a shoulder. “At least he doesn’t eat macaroni and fucking cheese.”

“What, you got somethin’ against mac and cheese?” Kirishima said defensively.

“No. I’m just not five .”

“Hey, bro, don’t diss the mac n’ cheese. This stuff’s the greatest food invention there ever was. Even over sliced bread.”

Bakugou raised his brows incredulously. “Who the fuck says ‘diss’ anymore?”

“Me, I guess,” Kirishima said around a mouth full of macaroni. He looked stupid with his cheeks stuffed with the stuff, but weirdly… not stupid in a bad way.

Shoving that thought aside, Bakugou dug into his sandwich. It was silent for a while as they ate and, being the only ones in the mess hall, there was no background chatter to fill the silence, rendering their little bubble of space awkward for the first time that evening. The slight uneasiness let up a bit when Kirishima tugged his phone out and, in the midst of practically sucking down his food, occupied himself for a bit with it. Bakugou was just about to do the same when Dumb Hair’s fork clanked against his plate.

“Dude,” he said, those giant, expressive eyes wide with surprise.

“What?”

“How the hell do you have over seven thousand followers?!” he practically shouted.

“What the fuck are you yelling about, Dumb Hair? ‘S not that big ‘a deal,” Bakugou grumbled. “Why are you looking at my page for, anyway?”

“‘Cause I was curious. But you only have like fifty posts. And you barely even use hashtags. Seriously— how ?”

“I don’t fucking know, but it’s fucking stupid.”

“What? Why? ”

“ Because I don’t use those shitty hashtags. I don’t even know how the fuck all those people found me or why the hell they decided to follow me in the first place.” Bakugou stuffed in a few more bites of his sandwich before asking around a mouthful, “How many followers you got, anyway?”

Kirishima frowned at him. “What?”

The blonde rolled his eyes before swallowing. “I said, how many fucking followers do you have anyway?” he grumbled.

“...compared to you, not a lot,” Kirishima said a bit wistfully. “I only have a little over four hundred, and then that’s mostly ‘cause a bunch of people I follow have followed me back.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but snort. “You act like having a bunch of followers matters,” he said.

The redhead shrugged. “I mean, I like people to see my art,” he said. “But hey, if you don’t like having so many followers, how come you don’t make your account private?”

It was Bakugou’s turn to shrug. Truthfully he didn’t really give a fuck if so many people followed him—what he didn’t get was why , but he figured it didn’t really matter. He was too lazy to change the stupid privacy settings anyway.

“Guess if you want more followers you gotta make it clear you don’t like people,” the redhead said with a somewhat teasing grin. “‘Cept I don’t think I could pull off the whole middle finger thing.”

Bakugou snorted. “You’re too damn nice for that,” he responded.

“Aw, thanks man,” Kirishima said before laughing again—that dumb laugh that Bakugou totally should be annoyed by, but actually wasn’t . Hmph.

“Who said it was a compliment?” the blond muttered under his breath before stuffing in another bite. It was clear Kirishima hadn’t heard him or at least chose to ignore him because he said, “I guess people like lotsa middle fingers, motorcycles, and piercings.”

“Or maybe I’m just hot,” Bakugou grumbled, half-sarcastic.

“Touché,” Kirishima said with a nod, though his gaze didn’t leave his phone. Bakugou was just about what the fuck he meant by that when Dumb Hair spoke up again. “Hey, so how many piercings do you have, anyway?”

Finally he locked his phone and merely set it on the table beside his plate, his big, dumb, shiny eyes locking with Bakugou’s own. Genuine curiosity shone through them. Quickly, Bakugou took a long swig of his Mountain Dew.

“Depends. You count these as more than two?” he asked, jerking his thumb at his own mouth, where there were two piercings in each side of his bottom lip. The outer two sported simple black studs while the inner two held rings with spikes on either end.

“Nah, I think each individual one counts since they all had to be done separately.”

“Then, like, twelve. Or fourteen, if you count the stretched lobes.”

“Damn, dude.”

Bakugou could feel himself tense while Kirishima studied over his piercings. Normally he didn’t give a fuck if someone looked—that was partially what they were there for. But Dumb Hair’s eyes were so fucking huge and red and right there , it almost made him nervous. Almost.

“Which one hurt the most?”

“‘S a tie between my tongue and the vertical industrial.”

“...vertical whatnow?”

Expecting that answer, the blonde swiveled his head to the right and tapped the black bar running straight up and down through the center of his ear.

Kirishima grimaced. “Eesh! That looks painful as hell!”

“It was, and it took for-fucking-ever to heal.”

“Then how come you said your tongue, too?” Kirishima’s eyes shined with curiosity.

“‘Cause it took even longer to heal and I had to fuckin’ eat around it, which was annoying as fuck. Plus it swelled. A lot.”

The redhead’s shoulders visibly shuddered. “How come ya got ‘em, then?”

“Why else? ‘Cause I like them, dumbass.”

“Wait, so is it true that a tattoo hurts less?”

“Yeah. Takes longer, but it’s not like you’re bein’ shoved through with a needle. ‘S just the surface of your skin.”

Dumb Hair sat back and rubbed at his forehead. “Ugh,” he said.

“What, you too much of a pussy to get a piercing?” Bakugou challenged.

“Honestly? Probably am, man. Like, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve biffed it on my board and scraped myself up, and I even have some scars to prove it, but voluntarily letting someone shove a needle through me? I don’t think I could do it.”

Bakugou snorted. “Baby.”

“Hey man, you try face planting into some broken glass!” Dumb Hair defended.

“Please. I’m not an idiot.”

“Okay, so which one of your piercings hurt the least ?”

“You sayin’ you’ll go for that one?” Weirdly, Bakugou could feel himself grinning at the loser across from him; he couldn’t deny it was fun to tease him.

“Maybe. I dunno,” Kirishima mumbled, his eyes averted down to his empty bowl.

“‘Sides my lobes, eyebrow hurt the least,” Bakugou told him. “But your eyebrows are too small so it’d look weird.”

“Gee thanks,” Kirishima said, but it was clear by his playful tone and the dumb grin that had come back that he didn’t take the remark to heart. And it was about damn time Bakugou could finally spew his shitty joking insults at someone without them instantly getting butthurt about it.

“You could always get your dick pierced,” said the blonde.

Kirishima’s already big eyes practically bugged out of his head at that. “What? Why? Do you—“ His teeth instantly snapped shut around the rest of the question. “Er… you don’t gotta answer that. Sorry, man.” And lo and behold, Dumb Hair was genuinely embarrassed, what with his eyes darting around at everything except at Bakugou himself and the way he fidgeted with his fork. The embarrassment didn’t quite cause a legit blush to spread across his face, though Bakugou would have loved the teasing material.

“Hey you two. Mess hall’s closing,” came a voice from behind Bakugou. He merely glanced over his shoulder to see one of the kitchen staff poking their head out of the door.

“Crap, sorry! We’ll head out,” Kirishima said. The two of them gathered their dishes and left them in the appropriate spot before sauntering their way out.

“So you gonna get one or what?”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, a di—“

“No, moron,” Bakugou interceded quickly. “Just a fucking piercing in general.”

“Oh…” Kirishima let out a nervous laugh as he held the door for Bakugou to stroll his way through. “I dunno, man. I think my parents would probably kill me.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Next month. The sixteenth.”

“Then you’re old enough to make that kinda decision on your own. Fuck what your parents think.”

Bakugou could see the grin out of the corner of his eye. “No wonder your parents sent you to boarding school,” Dumb Hair said. “Honestly I think my parents would put me in some private religious school if I thought the same way.”

“Then do it when you’re eighteen and then they can’t say shit about it.”

“I dunno, man. I’ll have to think about it.”

After that the walk back to the dorm was quiet between them. The night was fairly warm and, to Bakugou’s pleasure, there weren’t many people mulling about on campus, leaving it quieter than usual.

The blonde was the one to hold the door when they made it back. As he did so he said, “For the record, no, my dick isn’t pierced.”

As he stepped beyond the threshold, Kirishima only laughed. It was then, Bakugou was sure, that he realized he actually might like Dumb Hair.

I’ll be damned.

Chapter Text

Bakugou

The next couple of weeks seemed to drag on, but that was what happened when you’d rather be literally anywhere else than at school. That fucker Aizawa would hardly leave him alone, either, and he swore the dude was fucking stalking him as he’d run into him inadvertently twice within one week and was bombarded with questions he only quipped answers to. The week after that he was called to his stupid office twice, too, and asked virtually the same questions.

“How are your classes going?” “Have you been making it to them all on time?” “Have you been doing your homework alright?” Blah blah, fucking blah.

And what pissed Bakugou off the most was how mundane the jackass was, how even he seemed annoyed by having to ask these shitty questions despite somehow actually seeming to care at the same time. The entire time Bakugou sat in that little office and mindlessly provided bored, disinterested, and annoyed answers, his mind was preoccupied with trying to figure out just how damn much the shitrag smoked in a day. Seriously—he was too damn sleepy all the time and Bakugou had never seen him without insanely bloodshot eyes.

“And how about Kirishima?”

That question somehow jolted Bakugou out of his pondering thoughts. “What about him?” he mumbled almost… defensively.

Aizawa’s brows lifted. “Are you two getting along all right?”

“What, have you not asked him like you keep saying you would?” the blonde muttered, sliding even further down into the uncomfortable wooden chair he sat in.

“As a matter of fact, I have. But I’d like to know your opinion.”

“‘S fine, I guess.”

“Just fine, hm? Sounded to me like you two are getting along pretty well,” Aizawa said, his tone almost patronizing.

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “Guess so,” he quipped.

“Well, Kirishima thinks so, anyway, and I’m glad to hear it. New friends are always a good thing.”

The blonde only grunted. Outwardly he kept himself passive, even trying to appear bored in the hopes that this asshole would let him go soon, but inwardly his stomach had jumped at the mention of the dumb-haired weirdo. Which only made sense—he sure as fuck wasn’t used to people thinking they were friends with him as easily as Kirishima, if at all. But of course, Kirishima was already proving himself to be one of those suckers who saw the best in people.

Then again, Bakugou hadn’t been completely closed off to him, either. Still, it was only because he was a major improvement over the four-eyed prick he used to be stuck with, and he was happy to finally be rooming with someone who wasn’t a complete shitrag.

As usual, Bakugou’s departure from Aizawa’s office was quick and smooth, and he didn’t bother going back to the class he was pulled out of. If the principal knew about the past couple of times he’d ditched class, he didn’t say anything about it. But give him some credit—Bakugou was trying to pass, and that, unfortunately, meant he needed to actually show up to these shitty classes he gave less than a fuck about.

That particular day didn’t matter much, though—his 6th period teacher was doing some boring seminar about choosing colleges to apply to, and Bakugou sure as fuck had better things to do with his time than pretend to look at the shitty list she had and act like he was at least vaguely interested in college. Spoiler alert: he wasn’t, and a nap sounded way, way better.

After waking from said nap, he wasn’t even surprised to find another notification from Instagram that ‘redriot mentioned you in a comment: @ fuck_off dude, this is you. 2h’. The two hours meant he’d accidentally slept through his last two classes, but he figured after two weeks of damn near perfect attendance, he probably wouldn’t get in too much trouble.

The thought was brushed aside as he tapped the notification and flopped back onto his pillows, dry eyes squinting up at the screen to see whatever meme it was this time.

(see it here)

Bakugou snorted as he double tapped the image and then scrolled down a bit to like Kirishima’s comment to let him know he saw the stupid meme. With that he tapped reply and typed a short ‘*every day’ before hitting send.

Ever since the first two tags the day they studied together, Kirishima seemed to have made it a habit to tag Bakugou in at least one meme a day and, strangely enough, it didn’t bother the blonde nearly as much as it usually would. He didn’t really get why Dumb Hair liked the stupid trend so much, even if they were relevant, but even he had to admit some of them were at least moderately amusing.

As he continued to mindlessly scroll through his feed, passing up random shit posted from people he rarely talked to anymore from the last couple of high schools he went to and only stopping on pictures of fucking gorgeous bikes and tattoos, the phone vibrated and the little red 1 popped up at the bottom of the screen. Tapping it took him to another notification from Dumb Hair having tagged him again.

‘redriot mentioned you in a comment: @ fuck_off how bout this one?’

(see it here)

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou went through the same motions as before, replying with ‘better.’ It was almost lightning speed at which another notification popped up to indicate that Kirishima had liked his comment and responded with a ridiculous smiley emoji that uncannily resembled the loser’s own toothy grin. It was a stupid grin that Bakugou found himself starting to mirror himself before instantly wiping that shit off of his face as soon as he realized his mouth was quirking upward.

Fuck.

Okay, so maybe shit with Kirishima was going better than ‘fine’ the way the blonde had quipped to Aizawa earlier. Maybe he actually did like the little fucker (ignoring the fact that he’d already internally admitted that to himself), and maybe he could see himself becoming friends with the idiot. As Bakugou had already thought, he was hard as fuck to ignore, and so far the blonde hadn’t found anything about him he particularly hated the way he always managed to with literally everybody else he knew. Yeah, Dumb Hair could be kinda nosy sometimes, but almost every time he asked a question he thought might be too personal, he’d apologize with a sheepish glance to the floor. Sometimes he left some things lying around in the room, but they were always on his own side of the room and they were never there for very long, and his taste in music was… better than most people’s.

“Great,” Bakugou grumbled to himself, letting his phone slip from his fingers and land on the bed beside him. “I actually made a fucking friend in this shithole of a school. Can’t wait till my damn mother finds out…” He rolled over and stuffed his face into his pillow with a sigh.

Kirishima

“Yo! Earth to Kirishima!”

Kirishima’s head snapped up at the sound of his name and a hand waving in front of his face. Sero stood in front of him, brows raised and a sly grin on his face. “Huh?” blurted the redhead.

“You in there, man?” Sero asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”

“Nothin’. You’re just super out of it.”

Kirishima grinned apologetically. “Sorry,” he said again as Kaminari came around the air hockey table and flopped down onto the couch beside him.

“You texting Bakugou?” the blonde teased, waggling his eyebrows and leaning over to snoop on Kirishima’s still unlocked phone.

Instinctively he held it away, saying a quick, “No.”

“Has anybody ever told you how awful of a liar you are?” Jirou asked as she and Sero readied to play another game. Her own smirk was trained right on the redhead.

“What? I’m not lying!” But the heat was already creeping its way up his neck, snaking into his ears. “I’m just sending him some memes,” he mumbled, knowing there was no way to get around the teasing now.

“Why don’t you invite him to come hang?” Kaminari asked. “You’ve been sending the dude memes all week. Why not actually hang out with him?”

“I do,” Kirishima defended. “We hang out in the room all the time.”

“That hardly counts,” Sero called over the clacking of the puck on the table.

“Yeah. You’re never gonna get to know him just through memes and sitting in your freaking bedroom,” Kaminari said. “ Or know for sure if you like him, since you’re somehow still in denial about that.”

Kirishima, totally flustered now, looked back down at his phone and sunk further into the couch as though it would erase the flaming of his cheeks. He was almost sure his cheeks matched his hair by then.

Truth be told, he actually wasn’t even in denial anymore—not to himself, anyway. In every corner of his mind he knew he liked Bakugou, and quite a lot. He was almost forced to admit that to himself after his stupid stomach kept fluttering like crazy whenever notifications popped up on his phone with the blonde’s username. The second he knew for sure was when he’d woken up, startled by his alarm, from a dream about his roommate. It wasn’t a dream he remembered aside from the fact that it centered around the blonde, but it was… awkward waking up in the same room with a guy you just had a dream about who you’ve only known for about a month and a half.

Admitting it to himself was one thing, but actually finally coming forth and telling his friends was a whole other thing. If he was being teased now , who the hell knew what kind of shit they would come up with when he finally told them for sure? He wasn’t ready for that. Not nearly. Especially when he was so desperate not to make things awkward between himself and his roommate, because liking Bakugou or not, he was stuck rooming with him for the rest of the year.

He’d only narrowly avoided actually being pressured into inviting Bakugou to hang out with them because the air hockey match between Sero and Jirou got so heated that the puck actually flew off the table, distracting the three of them to arguing about whether it was a ‘foul’ or not. He let out a long breath and relaxed. He was safe. For now.

⚜️

“...oh shit.”

“What”

Kirishima stared at his phone in horror—at the little message at the top of the screen indicating that his message was sent successfully. His message. To Bakugou. Of a post that he’d totally only meant to tag him in as a comment, like usual. He’d completely forgotten to switch the setting over to tag him in a comment rather than send the whole freaking post as a direct message.

“Kiri, what? ” Kaminari pressed, shaking his shoulder.

“I totally just sent this as a fricken DM instead of a comment,” he told Kaminari, practically shoving the phone at his friend to show him. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

To Kirishima’s dismay, Kaminari laughed. “Dude, chill! ‘S just a message.”

“But I seriously didn’t wanna send it like that, man.”

“So? Does it really matter? If you’re that freaked out about it you can just unsend it.”

“Wait, what? That’s a thing?”

“Yeah, look.” Kaminari took the phone from Kirishima’s hand and maneuvered into the direct messages. He tapped on the one with Bakugou’s username to reveal the image Kirishima had accidentally sent. “...well, you could, ” Kaminari said, “but it’s kinda too late.” He turned the screen back to Kirishima and pointed to directly below the message to one small, gray word: ‘seen.’

“Aw, goddammit,” Kirishima mumbled, rubbing a hand over his forehead in embarrassment. He took the phone back and, with slightly shaky fingers, typed in a quick message:

Whoops, didn’t mean to do that lol

Bakugou’s response was surprisingly quick.

Moron.

Kirishima was just getting ready to blow out a sigh when the phone vibrated again.

It’s funny tho

And just like that the embarrassment turned to elation and Kirishima grinned as he sent an emoji mirroring his face right back.

Having witnessed the whole thing, Kaminari snickered from beside him, leaning away and folding his hands back behind his head. Kirishima glanced up at his friend, who had a sly grin on his face that was one that told the redhead he was about to get teased.

“Dude, stop reading over my shoulder!” he said.

Kaminari completely ignored him. “Look at it this way, man, you’re basically texting the dude now. Plus, if you really don’t like him and he’s just your friend, why’s it such a big deal?”

Kirishima narrowed his eyes, but he knew he probably looked more like he was pouting than actually annoyed with his friend. “You can be a real asshole sometimes, ya know that?”

The blonde shrugged casually. “Yeah, Jirou tells me all the time. Doesn’t bother me.”

Kirishima was still shaking his head when he looked back down at the phone. While Bakugou hadn’t responded, he had seen the message. Just as he was closing the app and locking his phone, their group finally trampled up to the table he and Kaminari were seated at. Mina, Jirou, and Sero all took their seats around the table as they were saying their greetings to the two of them.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Kaminari asked.

“ Someone’s soda got stuck in the vending machine,” Mina said, jokingly eyeing Sero who was in the midst of cracking open his Dr. Pepper.

“Hey, don’t say that like it’s my fault!” he defended. “You can’t blame the customer for a faulty machine.”

“It would help if you hadn’t punched in the wrong numbers the first two times,” Jirou said.

“My point still stands.”

“So what’s with the smug smile, Denki?” Jirou asked, changing the subject as she eyed her boyfriend out of the corner of her eye. “You’re creeping me out.”

“Aw, nothin’,” Kaminari said, slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Kiri could tell you, though.”

And just like that, all eyes landed on Kirishima, who automatically stuffed his hands beneath the table and blinked at his friends. “What?” he mumbled.

“There’s somethin’ new with your cute new roomie, huh?” Mina teased, nudging him in the arm with her elbow with a smile that uncannily mirrored Kaminari’s.

A small but unexpected surge of annoyance bubbled up. “Man, ‘m starting to think you guys like him ‘cause you bring him up so much!” he said, hooking his fingers on the seat between his legs and leaning back, his feet coming off the ground. “Ya want me to get him to come so you guys can confess or somethin’?”

As Mina playfully swatted at him (something he promptly dodged), Sero said, “No man, we can’t like him ‘cause we don’t even know him since you never get him to come hang with us!”

“Which you should ,” pressed Mina.

“Hey, I invite him all the time!” Kirishima defended. “He just never agrees.”

“That’s hard to believe, ‘cause I heard from a little birdie that you guys had dinner together the other night,” said Sero.

“What? Dude, that was over a week ago!”

“So he admits it!” Kaminari said.

“So what, are you guys asking around about me now? That’s pretty harsh considering I thought you’d ask me first,” Kirishima said, a hand on his chest pretending to be hurt, trying to remain playful despite his irritation. “I’m wounded.”

“It’s ‘cause you never tell us anything about him, man!”

“What, am I s’posed to tell you guys everything I do? Jeesh, are you my parents?” he mumbled, looking down.

Both Kaminari and Sero were opening their mouths when Mina came to his rescue, her hands coming down on the table—gently, but it was enough to shut them up.

“Guys, I think we’re being a little too nosy,” she said. “If Kiri’s gonna tell us anything, he’s probably not gonna do it by being pressured and teased into it.” Her bright eyes fell upon Kirishima himself again. “Sorry, Kiri. If you wanna tell us we’re here to listen, ‘kay? But I, for one, am done teasing you about it.”

Kirishima couldn’t help smiling at her, grateful she’d been perceptive enough to pick up on his annoyance. “Thanks, Mina,” he said.

“Hey, we don’t really mean the shit we tease you about, you know that, right?” Kaminari said.

“Yeah, man, but Mina’s right. It can get kind of annoying and ‘s like you guys just assume how I feel before I even know, and then I just get super confused, which is why I barely tell you guys anything.”

“Aw damn,” Sero mumbled. “Sorry, Kiri.”

“Yeah, dude, sorry,” Kaminari said, sincere. Jirou nodded along with his apology.

“Hey, no hard feelings, guys. Just lemme come to you guys about it first, alright?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Kirishima let himself relax and lean forward again. “Alright, so then, uh, I have a question…” he mumbled, habitually reaching back to scratch his head.

“Sup?” Sero asked.

“How’re you supposed to flirt with someone without chickening out?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the table.

“Wait, what ? You’re trying to flirt with him?!” Mina squeaked.

“Well, kinda. Every time I get an opportunity, I always lose my nerve—“

“Dude! So you do like him?!” Kaminari blurted. “What the hell happened to telling us?! You just said you would!”

Kirishima laughed, a bit sheepish. “...yeah, but I figured you guys basically knew already so I didn’t really think I needed to, like, come out about it.”

“Bro, you’ve been dancing around that question for like a month now, won’t tell us directly, and then ask us to let you come to us first, and now this?! ”

“You make no damn sense, Kirishima,” Jirou agreed, shaking her head.

Kirishima quickly backtracked, holding up his hands. “Okay, I’m sorry!” he said. With a mildly nervous swallow he continued, “So yeah, I do, okay? I like him… more than I probably should at this point. Happy?”

“The fuck!” exclaimed Sero. “ Yes , we’re happy! It’s about freaking time!”

“Okay, okay! Jeez! See, this is part of why I don’t say anything ‘cause you guys freak out on me!”

“Ah, you’re right, sorry,” Kaminari apologized quickly. “We’re just super happy for you is all.”

“So flirting, huh?” Mina propped her chin on her hand and waggled her eyebrows.

“Um… well, yeah,” the redhead mumbled, flustered. “Like, I keep thinking it might be a good idea just to see how he responds, y’know? But like I said I just keep chickening out whenever I get the opportunity. Guess I thought you guys might have some ideas…?” He trailed off, embarrassed. For some reason it felt silly to be asking them for advice on this, especially because he’d only had the inclination to flirt a few days ago. He’d decided that yeah, he was worried about making things awkward between them, but he figured he would never get anywhere if he didn’t try.

Mina shifted her attention across the table. “How’d you flirt with Jirou, Kami?” she asked.

“He didn’t,” Jirou said before Kaminari could even open his mouth. “He just kept saying really stupid stuff until I decided to spare him anymore pain and ask him out myself.”

“Hey, I flirted!” defended Kaminari.

“I don’t think staring with a stupid look on your face classifies as flirting, Denki,” she said. She was grinning as she said it, though, which only served to make Kaminari pout.

“Hm…” hummed Mina. “I wish I knew what to say, but I’m not really the type to take the initiative,” she told Kirishima ruefully.

“S’okay,” he told her with a smile. “Guess I could always google some ideas or somethin’. Maybe ask Midoriya or somebody ‘cause he’s known Bakugou forever.”

“Hey,” Kaminari said with a joking laugh as he nudged the redhead under the table with his foot, “you could send him memes to flirt!”

The rest of the table blinked at him for a moment, some eyes incredulous, some confused. When no one said anything he continued, “What? I was joking!”

“...except that’s actually not a terrible idea,” Jirou said.

“Seriously?”

“Actually yeah, man,” Kirishima said. “‘Cause then it can be super subtle at first, and if he responds badly I can just go back to normal memes and pretend it never happened, right?”

“But if he responds well then you can start sending more obvious ones and then start flirting in person and go from there!” Mina said, sitting up straight in the midst of her excitement and pressing her palms together. “And then in twenty years you can tell your adopted kids that memes brought you together,” she said with a laugh.

“Whoa, okay, slow down!” Kirishima said quickly.

“Ah, let a girl dream, wouldja?” she mumbled.

Kirishima only shook his head at her as he picked his phone back up and unlocked it. “Alright, I think I’m gonna need your guys’ help with this. I’m gonna need the best memes you can find.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou

Bakugou was beginning to think Kirishima was a goddamn meme addict, and that he himself was an inadvertent victim by association. The fucker had loads of them to send—at least, that’s what it felt like. He only sent about one a day, and since he had ‘accidentally’ (Bakugou still wasn’t sure if he believed it to be an actual accident) sent one through the direct messaging system of Instagram (something Bakugou hadn’t even known existed until the damn notification popped up), that’s how they all came through.

They were miscellaneous—some about school, others about random shit Dumb Hair probably thought were relatable, and others shit that were just straight up jokes (some that, whenever he was in public, Bakugou had to refrain from laughing outwardly at). On the occasions they were in their room together—a lot more often since their misunderstanding—either studying or just hanging out, the stupid memes ended up launching them into conversations Bakugou knew he’d never have with someone otherwise. He told Kirishima shit he hadn’t even thought about in years, found out that he and the damn loser had a lot more in common than he ever thought they could, and suddenly Dumb Hair really was his friend.

And when Kirishima started inviting him places—the game room, the lounge, dinner—he started tagging along. His friends weren’t awful, and it wasn’t like Bakugou had anything better to do anyway.

⚜️

“Did you guys hear they’re planning a Halloween party for the school at the end of the month?” the pink-cheeked chick whose name Bakugou didn’t care to remember spoke up at lunch one afternoon.

“Is it like a dance?” asked frog-looking one beside her. “Or a haunted house?”

“I dunno yet. They haven’t really released many details about it.”

“I heard about it,” Deku said. “Iida has been running around like crazy making sure everyone who’s on the planning committee keeps the theme appropriate.”

Pink Cheeks perked up. “A planning committee? Can anybody join?” she asked.

“I think so. I’ll be sure to ask Iida tomorrow in bio,” Deku said.

“Ohh! I love planning parties…”

Bakugou sighed, slumping his head into his own hand as, like usual, he zoned the idiots out. He was grateful when his phone vibrated and gave him an excuse to look away, and he definitely wasn’t surprised when the notification was from Dumb Hair. Most of them were nowadays if he was being honest, save from the occasional text from his mom or yet another damn follower on Instagram (seriously—he didn’t know where the fuck they came from or why , seeing as he rarely actually posted).

Bakugou stared down at the screen in confusion the second he opened the message.

(see it here)

The fuck …?

Bakugou sat up, eyes narrow as he read it over a couple times. What the fuck did that even mean? Was it some kind of shitty pick-up line? Was Dumb Hair serious , or did he send the wrong fucking thing?

Questions flew through Bakugou’s head a mile a minute. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to decide how he should reply—if he should even reply at all. He still hadn’t made the decision when those three little dots popped up, indicating the other person was typing.

-This is cheesy as shit x’D

Bakugou did a mental eyeroll as he typed a message back.

- Yeah. Sure as fuck suits you tho

The little ‘seen’ indication popped up as soon as he sent the message, and those stupid little dots weren’t far behind.

- That bad?

- Nah. Just a you thing

-Uh, thanks? Lol

Bakugou was unaware of the small grin playing at the corner of his lips when his attention was averted from his phone by Deku saying his name.

“...you, Kacchan?”

“What?” he said, looking up.

“I said I don’t suppose you’d wanna help, would you?”

“Wanna help with what?”

“The Halloween party!” Pink Cheeks said, excitedly pressing the tips of her fingers together. “We’re gonna see if Iida will let us onto the planning committee since we have a lot of ideas.”

“Nope. You losers can leave me outta that one,” Bakugou muttered, absently pressing the lock button on his phone and slipping the device back into his pocket as he stood up. He ignored the girl’s frown as he picked up his empty tray. “Later,” he muttered to the four of them before sauntering away to leave his tray in the stack and stroll right out of the mess hall without a backwards glance.

⚜️

Kirishima’s stupid yet oddly amusing memes kept coming—but of course they did. They ranged from the normal ones, such as:

(see it here)

(which was painfully true, Bakugou couldn’t help but think) to really weird, cheesy ones that Bakugou didn’t get that were more along the lines of:

(see it here)

Either way, he snorted at them and brushed them off as he normally did. It wasn’t like Kirishima hadn’t sent weird as fuck memes before; Bakugou figured he just liked mixing it up a bit. Seemed like the type to, anyway. Bakugou wasn’t about to say anything about it, regardless; he had to admit Kirishima’s meme habit gave him something to look forward to in the mundane, repetitive bullshit that was school.

⚜️

The closer to the end of October it got, the more chatter about that damn Halloween party there was. Teachers kept bringing it up in class, banners were being hung around the entire campus, and flyers were being handed out on the daily (all of which Bakugou promptly crumpled up and tossed in the nearest recycling bin without bothering to read it). The stupid school-wide announcements every morning talked about it, too, and Bakugou was glad that shitty ex-roommate of his had a mundane voice that was easy to tone out while he droned on about whatever bullshit being addressed.

The party/dance/whatever-the-fuck it was was less than a week away when, inevitably, Dumb Hair and his friends brought it up. They were hanging out in the guys’ lounge while Yellow Head, Plain Face, and Yellow Head’s rock n’ roll looking girlfriend duked it out on Super Smash Brothers and some pink-haired chick Bakugou had only met minutes ago was sitting and watching with a pout because she’d already lost while Bakugou and Dumb Hair himself were merely watching and waiting for their turn since, for some stupid reason, the redhead had managed to talk the blonde into playing one-on-one with him when the other losers were done. It was then when Kirishima spoke up about it.

“Yo, are you guys gonna go to that Halloween party?”

Pinky perked up. “Heck yeah!” she said. “I’ve had my costume planned out since last Halloween, so no way am I letting that go to waste!”

“Yeah? Whatcha gonna be?” Dumb Hair asked her.

“A dancing cat!” she said happily.

“A whatnow?” Yellow Head said from beside her without taking his eyes from the screen or faltering in the semi-frantic way he was smashing his thumbs into the controller. “Dammit, babe!” he hissed right after, and his girlfriend snickered as his death was announced from the television speakers; he practically threw the controller down onto the table in front of him.

“A dancing cat ,” Pinky enunciated in his direction.

“Yeah, I got that. But like, what does that even mean?”

“It means I’m gonna dress up in my dance uniform—from last year, of course, because no way am I losing even one sequin on my new one—but also dress up as a cat,” she explained proudly. “Therefore, a dancing cat.”

“Huh. I guess…” said Yellow Head, not looking very convinced.

“Why, what are you gonna dress up as?” she shot back, straightening up and planting her fists on her hips.

“Probably not gonna,” he told her.

“Don’t be lame, Denki!” Yellow Head’s girlfriend said as she continued to play.

“What? Then what do you think I should go as?” he mumbled to her.

“Too busy to think about it,” she told him. A loud blast sounded from the television and Plain Face cursed under his breath the second he paused in button-smashing while he waited for his character to respawn.

Bakugou spoke without thinking. “Get a Pikachu costume,” he said.

All free eyes landed right on him, almost as though they’d forgotten he was there. Kirishima, however, had an amused grin on his stupid face. “Where’d ya get that idea?”

Bakugou jerked his chin in Yellow Head’s direction. “The hair. The black streak reminds me of Pikachu.” He shrugged a shoulder and looked down at his phone.

“Dude, do it!” Plain Face said.

“Don’t get distracted, Sero!” the rocker chick shot at him.

“Where am I supposed to find a freaking Pikachu costume?” Yellow Head said.

“There’s a costume store a couple miles east,” Kirishima told him. “And it’s huge. I bet they’ve got something you can use.”

Yellow Head blinked at him, scratching his head in hesitation. “Should I really do that?”

“Hell yeah, you should!” said Sero again. “Bakugou’s right, your hair totally does look like Pikachu.”

“It does!” said Pinky excitedly. “I think we should all dress up, anyway, ‘cause it’s senior year and this will be the last time we’ll have the chance to.”

Of course, that sparked a blabbering conversation among the four of them about what they planned on going as for the shitty party. Kirishima, Pikachu, and Pinky started brainstorming ideas for the other two while they continued their battle in the video game, and when Plain Face finally won (by a freaking hair, which was pretty impressive), they joined in on the conversation. Bakugou himself kept to his phone, but although he wouldn’t admit it, he was listening to their idiotic (yet damn amusing) banter about it. After it was decided that Sero would be going as a freaking mummy (and Pinky had promised she’d help him with it) and the rocker chick would go as, surprise-surprise, some kind of freaking rockstar from the 80s, it was down to Kirishima.

“I dunno, guys. I can’t really think of anything I’d be down to do,” he said thoughtfully. “Honestly I don’t know if I’d wanna do anything super generic, ya know? Like a zombie or a vampire.”

“Sero’s going as a mummy,” Pikachu pointed out.

“Yeah, but that suits him. I don’t think I could pull off being a vampire.”

“You could totally be a zombie, though!” Pinky said. “And it’d be super easy. Just get some clothes to rip up and put on some makeup to make you look dead. Oh, and probably leave your hair down.”

Dumb Hair scratched his forehead thoughtfully. “I guess that sounds pretty cool, but I can’t do makeup to save my life.”

“Hmm… I’d offer to help, but I already promised Jirou and Sero I’d help with theirs,” Pinky said. “I don’t know if I’ll have time to do theirs and mine, since Halloween’s on Friday and the party is after school.”

And, of course, that was when Pikachu leaned around Pinky and Kirishima to look at him. “What about Bakugou?” he said.

The blonde looked up. “What about me?” he mumbled, skeptical but knowing right where this was going at the same time.

“Could you do it?” he asked at the same time Dumb Hair turned and trained his stupid, big eyes right on the blonde himself.

“What, you think just ‘cause I wear eyeliner I can do any type of makeup?” he muttered.

“So you can’t?” When Dumb Hair spoke, he actually looked genuinely disappointed; his whole stupid face fell and everything. And, weirdly enough, something about that damn puppy dog stare tugged at Bakugou’s stupid heartstrings. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do other makeup—actually, he could, but not for the reason one might think.

“Never said that, ‘s just lame that you guys are assuming shit,” he said.

“Wait, so you can?” Pinky asked.

“...sorta,” Bakugou mumbled.

“Would you?” Dumb Hair asked, some of the enthusiasm having returned to his face. Bakugou swore his eyes were literally starting to light up again, like they were their own kind of freaking bright red suns planted right into his stupid face.

“...yeah, fine, whatever,” he said, purposefully directing his gaze back to his phone so he wouldn’t have to look at those lustrous red eyes anymore.

And that was how Bakugou was ‘conned’ into doing Dumb Hair’s makeup for the Halloween party. Somewhere inside of him— deep inside—he knew he wouldn’t have agreed to do it if it had been anyone else, but he wasn’t about to admit that Kirishima was special to him or anything. Really, he didn’t even consider the others his friends (... yet , a voice inside him said, because that stupid little voice seemed to know that because they were Kirishima’s friends, he’d inevitably end up friends with them, too).

After he’d agreed, Kirishima had beamed at him and said, “So what’re you gonna dress up as, man? You’re going, right?”

Before he could even really think about it, he was saying, “Sure, I guess,” despite not having been planning to go to the party. It was like something about that shitty smile compelled him to go, and he didn’t fucking get it. Quickly, he’d said, “I’m not gonna dress up, though.”

“Whaaat? Why not?” Kirishima said.

“You gotta, man!” Pikachu jumped in.

“Yeah, the rest of us are!” added Pinky.

“So? ‘S not like I’m part of your group of losers, anyway,” the blonde grumbled, not even looking away from his phone, though he hadn’t even touched the screen in several minutes.

“We’re not losers!” Sero defended at the same time Pikachu said, “If you’re not part of our group how come you’re sitting with us?”

Bakugou could just feel the damn smugness in that idiot’s demeanor as he asked the question; his own eyes lifted in a glare to see him, and sure enough he was grinning like a fucking moron. For once, Bakugou had no idea how to respond to him, either. No way was he gonna say something cheesy or admit to them that they didn’t entirely suck or whatever. Plus, Kirishima was his friend at the very least…

“You gotta do something , man,” Kirishima said, saving him from having to answer the question and brushing it off altogether. “Even if you just paint your face or something. You’d probably be the only one not dressing up.”

“You could be the Pumpkin King!” Pinky said suddenly.

“Fuck no,” he shot back.

“Guys, how ‘bout we talk about it on our way to get something to eat?” Jirou said. “They’re starting to serve dinner right about now.”

“Sounds good,” Dumb Hair said as he stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “We’ll do our Smash Bros match later, ‘kay?” he said to Bakugou.

“Whatever,” the blonde responded casually.

He and Dumb Hair were the last two to trail out of the building after the others who were still chattering away about their costume ideas as they shuffled across campus toward the mess hall, and the entire time Kirishima was throwing out suggestions about what he could do as a Halloween costume, Bakugou was wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this mess.

⚜️

“Fucking stay still. ”

“Sorry! It just tickles.”

“But if you twitch one more time you’re gonna have eyeliner all over your damn face, and that won’t be my problem.”

Kirishima’s shoulders shook with a slight laugh as his eyes fell shut again. He was seriously getting on Bakugou’s nerves with his squirming and twitching, making it damn near impossible to put the stupid makeup on his face. He’d already had to wipe slip ups of eyeliner away three times now because of it.

I’m not goddamn patient enough for this…

Fortunately he was almost done, which meant he could finally get away from those stupid eyes that kept flicking up at him. And he was trying really fucking hard not to notice the dimple in Dumb Hair’s left cheek every time he smiled or the tiny, incredibly subtle little gold flecks in his irises—things he hadn’t noticed before because he’d never been so close . His own stupid heart kept hammering against his ribs and whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck was Bakugou’s constant, internal dialogue the entire time he wasn’t bitching at the redhead to stay still.

“Can I ask you something?” Kirishima asked after Bakugou had capped the eyeliner pencil and was going for the weird little sponge thing that came with the cheap makeup they’d picked up at the party store the previous day.

“No, ‘cause talking moves your stupid face.”

Kirishima finally remained still long enough after that for Bakugou to finish up. He snapped the makeup kit shut and took a step back. “Done.”

Blinking quickly, Kirishima turned to face the mirror and the second he saw himself, his eyes widened. “Dude! This is awesome!” he enthused, lifting a hand.

“Don’t fucking touch it, you damn Hair for Brains!” Bakugou growled, yanking his hand down just before his fingers made contact. Their eyes met in the mirror as Bakugou tugged his hand away and crossed his arms. “Don’t smudge my hard work ‘cause I’m not doing that shit again.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima said, though his smile never disappeared. “Seriously though, man. You did a really good job. Thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the blonde said as he turned and went back into the room.

“Hey, can I ask you that thing now?” Kirishima called after him.

“What?”

“How’d you know how to do stuff like this, anyway?”

“‘Cause I used to volunteer at amusement parks and shit doing it on little kids. Who, I might add, are a lot more patient and still than you , even for fucking five year olds.”

Bakugou saw Dumb Hair’s jaw drop as he plopped onto his own bed. “ You volunteered?”

“Did it for the tips. If you do a good job, parents give you a shitload of cash for it.”

“Dude! That’s super cool, ‘cause it means we’re both pretty artistic.”

“Yeah, so why the hell couldn’t you do this shit yourself?”

Kirishima reached up to remove his headband, allowing his hair to flop back into his face. “Well, once I tried to do some stuff on my little cousins for a costume party for one of their birthdays, but makeup just doesn’t blend the same way paint does. They liked it, but I guess I’m sort of a perfectionist when it comes to my art so I didn’t really like it, and even when I tried to do it on myself several years ago for Halloween I kinda hated it.”

“So? That’s why you fuckin’ practice.”

A sheepish grin spread across Kirishima’s face. “Yeah, guess you’re right, man. So hey, are you really not gonna dress up at all?”

“Nope. Even if I was, fuck am I s’posed to dress up in now?”

“Touché… but you could still paint your face.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

“Aw, way to be lame,” Kirishima joked.

“You think I give a shit what you call me?” Bakugou muttered.

“Nah,” said the other as he went for the clothes he’d ripped up and dirtied for his costume. “Imma get changed and then we’ll go, yeah?” he said on his way back to the bathroom. Before he went in, he stopped in his tracks and turned his head. “You are still going, right?”

“Did I not fucking say I would?” grumbled the blonde.

“Cool,” Dumb Hair said. “Be right back.” With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Bakugou alone to sigh out his mild irritation at himself for ever agreeing to this shit.

How the hell did Kirishima actually ever talk him into going in the first place?

Fuck . He didn’t.

Stupid Deku and his dumb friends had been bugging him about going all goddamn week, and he’d been adamantly refusing to since the second they brought it up. He didn’t give a shit about school dances or parties or whatever the fuck this thing was supposed to be, and they knew that. He knew it. And he really had every intention of not going.

But one fucking look from Kiri-fucking-shima had him agreeing in seconds.

What the fuck?

Hmph. At least he’d get a kick out of the shitty looks on Deku and his friends’ faces when he showed up.

⚜️

The ‘party’ turned out to be some odd mixture of a dance and a carnival. There were game and activity booths set up all around campus and tons of Halloween-themed food in the mess hall. The gym, typically, was where the dance took place and school building itself had been transformed into a ‘haunted house.’ People in all variations of ridiculous costumes were mulling about with their food and lining up at the booths. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous, and if it wasn’t for Kirishima practically dragging him along and smiling like a damn idiot past his zombie makeup, Bakugou would’ve booked it right back to his room.

“Duuude, your makeup’s awesome!” Kirishima’s yellow-headed friend  gushed as soon as the two met up with him just outside the mess hall. He was easy to find, what with his bright fucking yellow Pikachu onesie they somehow managed to find at the same thrift store Kirishima picked up the clothes he was using for his costume.

“Thanks, man!” Kirishima said as the two of them did their typical lame fist bump. “Bakugou’s more of an artist than I thought!”

“The fuck ‘s that supposed to mean, Dumb Hair?” Bakugou snapped.

“Nothin’! It was a compliment!” the redhead quickly backtracked, though his smile never faded. “So ya think I really look like a zombie, huh?” he asked his friend.

“Hell yeah, dude.” Yellow Head’s eyes fell on Bakugou. “You’re really good at that.”

“Hmph, yeah, thanks I guess…” mumbled the blonde, absently scratching the back of his head.

“So where are the others?” Kirishima asked.

“On their way. Kyouka said Mina was having some trouble with her costume.”

If possible, Dumb Hair’s already big grin widened. “‘Kyouka’, huh? She’s finally cool with you using her first name?” he said in a teasing manner, sending an elbow in Pikachu’s direction, who had a slight, embarrassed grin of his own.

“Yep. We talked about it last night.”

“Congrats, man! I told ya she’d come around sooner or later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the other mumbled, brushing him off.

It was only a few minutes later when the rest of Kirishima’s herd showed up, all in costume. Pinky (Mina, Bakugou supposed her name was) hadn’t been kidding about the whole ‘dancing cat’ thing; her clothes practically looked like a freaking disco ball threw up on her while she wore ears, a tail, and gloves that resembled cat paws. Her face was bedazzled and painted like a cat’s too. Jirou looked basically the same as usual, with maybe a little more makeup and a guitar case strung across her back. The only way Bakugou knew who the third idiot wandering up wrapped in toilet paper-looking bandages was was because he’d been there for the conversation.

It only took the idiots seconds after showing up to give him shit for not being in any sort of costume. They were impressed by what he’d done to Kirishima’s face, though, which seemed to get them off his back about his lack of a costume well enough.

So, much to his (slight) reluctance, Bakugou spent the rest of the afternoon and a good portion of the evening walking around with the losers, being one of the only ones on the entire damn campus (teachers included) not wearing some stupid costume. Inevitably, halfway through the others being adamant about trying every stupid carnival booth, they ran into Deku and his own herd, and Bakugou promptly ignored the surprised looks on their faces when they realized he was there. They didn’t stick around for long before heading off to the gym.

Admittedly the longer the night went on, the more Bakugou found himself actually kind of enjoying all this shit. It helped that most of Dumb Hair’s friends were terrible at the majority of the games and that people kept being so amused by Yellow Head’s ridiculous onesie (that he was continually given credit for), as well as Kirishima’s zombie makeup (that he was also given credit for).

“Maybe you should be a special effects makeup artist, man,” Dumb Hair told him while they were finally walking away from the carnival booths and headed to see what was inside the main school building.

“You gotta go to college for that shit,” Bakugou told him. “Fuck that.”

Kirishima shrugged a shoulder. “Alright. But if you change your mind, I’m totally down to be your guinea pig.”

The ‘haunted house’ really turned out to be a haunted school, and most of the ‘boobie traps’ and jump scare mechanics were pretty damn lame. The whole place was practically filled with fog, anyway, rendering it difficult to see much of anything. A collective sigh of relief went around the group when they finally burst out of the exit.

“Well, that coulda been better,” Sero said.

“Yeah, but I heard the teachers were in charge of it, so it could’ve been worse, too,” said Jirou.

“It wasn’t so bad!” Mina said. “I think we should head to the gym next, though, ‘cause it’s all that’s left and it would be silly to be dressed as a dancing cat and not go to the dance.”

While the others agreed, Bakugou felt himself scowl and fall back. Leave it to Dumb Hair to notice, though, and fall back behind with him, saying, “You guys go ahead, ‘kay? I think me and Bakugou are gonna hit the mess hall. I’m starving.”

“Y’sure?” Pikachu called back.

“Yup! We’ll catch up somewhere later. I’ll text you!” he called after them while he practically steered the blonde in the opposite direction toward the mess hall.

“Why the fuck are you ditching your friends for me?” Bakugou muttered.

“I’m not, man. You’re my friend, too. Plus I really am hungry, and I’m not that big on dances, either.”

While Bakugou’s thanks was quipped, he really was relieved to not have to go into that shitty, surely sweaty gym or make a petty excuse he’d feel bad about later, even if just a little. They were both grateful to find that the mess hall kitchen wasn’t just serving abhorrent Halloween-themed food when they arrived, too, though the options were limited. Over plates of pizza, Kirishima—typically—chattered away about some of the booths and whatnot, and, as usual, Bakugou found himself flowing right along in the conversation with him.

“Yo, I bet the game room’s pretty deserted right about now. Wanna go?” Dumb Hair asked as they were on their way back out.

“‘Kay.”

Sure enough, the room housing a couple of foosball tables, air hockey, and a couple of pool tables among other things was completely void of life when they arrived. Bakugou was happy to finally be away from all the damn people .

“D’you like to play any of this stuff?” Kirishima asked as he raked his fingers through his hair and tied it back messily, baring his makeup-caked face, the shape of which Bakugou hadn’t really noticed before doing said makeup, with the soft curve of his cheeks and the strong set of his jaw...

Bakugou quickly swallowed the thought. “Used to play pool with my uncle,” he said, pocketing his hands.

“Yeah? I’ve never played.”

“Guess I could teach you if ya want…”

Those big bright eyes freakin’ shined . “Hell yeah!” Kirishima said. “C’mon. They keep the stuff over in this closet,” he said, crossing the room.

The two spent the next hour or so at the pool table; Kirishima was a surprisingly fast learner, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t awful at first. His aim was off most of the time and on several occasions he’d pocket the wrong balls or end up sinking the cue ball. After four games, he was left with zero wins.

Somewhere in the midst of their playing he paused to text Pikachu and the rest of the group showed up not long after and they took turns playing. Turned out, to no surprise at all, that all of them were awful at pool, including the rocker chick who was said to be a beast at air hockey. Bakugou beat all of them at least once, leaving them begging for him to join them in the game room with them at least weekly so they could practice. And somehow, somehow those fuckers talked him into agreeing (with the persuasion being mostly on Kirishima’s part—go figure).

Once the five of them were exhausted from losing so much, Pinky insisted they all take pictures together. While Bakugou sat on the leather couch in the corner scrolling mindlessly through his phone, the others scurried around in a ridiculous photoshoot.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima called in the midst of it. “C’mon, man! You should be part of this, too.”

“Are you fucking blind, Dumb Hair? ‘M not in a goddamn costume.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Mina said. “You’re still part of the group.”

“Says who?” he grumbled.

“All of us, dummy!”

He was still hesitating when Kirishima trained those stupid puppy eyes on him again, and all the sudden he lost the will to say no. So, with reluctance and a scowl that didn’t fade for the entire rest of their ridiculous photoshoot, he stood up and joined them, wondering all the while how in the world he could fall victim so easily to a pair of big, dumb red eyes.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

“Yo, Bakugou,” Kirishima said as he sat up on his bed. “I think I’m gonna head to the art rooms. Wanna come?”

Bakugou’s head did little more than swivel in his direction from where he laid across his bed. “Why?”

“Why what? Why am I inviting you or why am I going?”

“Why are you going?”

“Sometimes I go hang out over there during the weekends to practice painting and such, remember? The art teachers are pretty cool so they don’t mind as long as I clean up after myself.” Kirishima was already in the midst of pulling out a pair of socks as he spoke, though he didn’t bother to change out of his sweats. “Whattaya say?”

To Kirishima’s slight surprise, Bakugou sat up and muttered, “Why not? Got nothin’ better to do.”

Kirishima couldn’t deny that one. It was nearly mid-afternoon and the two of them had barely gotten out of bed, let alone left the dorm room. They’d both been exhausted after staying up so late after the Halloween party the previous night and hadn’t so much as even left to get breakfast; they’d just settled for untoasted pop tarts that Kirishima kept in a small stash of snacks he kept in the cabinet of his bedside table.

An inevitable (and very welcome) feeling of elation filled Kirishima up as the two of them sauntered across the relatively quiet campus toward the main school building. He really hadn’t expected Bakugou to agree to join him even though the blonde had been hanging out with him and the others quite a bit recently. He knew Bakugou was the type who preferred to be alone and it would've made sense for him to want to stay in the room by himself, so it was a pleasant surprise to have him walking along beside Kirishima, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his sweats.

“Hang on, I’mma grab a snack,” the blonde said as soon as they were in the school building where a couple of vending machines were against the wall to the left. When he finished getting what he wanted he turned and tossed a packet of Oreos straight at Kirishima, who promptly caught it.

“Oh, thanks, but you don’t have to—“

“‘S repayment for the pop tarts,” Bakugou cut in.

“Hm.” Kirishima felt himself smile. “‘Kay. But you don’t gotta repay me for stuff, alright?”

“Whatever.”

Kirishima gratefully pocketed the snack before they kept walking.

Save for one or two staff members here and there, the building was void of people. Kirishima casually punched in the unlock code for the door to the main art room upon arrival and flipped the lights on as he stepped in.

“The fuck?” Bakugou mumbled around a mouthful of cheese crackers as he followed him in. “They gave you the code?”

“Yep. How else are we s’posed to get in?” responded the redhead.

“You some kinda teacher’s pet?”

“Nah, man. Just a kid who likes art. I’ve spent a lot of time here so the art teachers trust me enough.”

Though Bakugou’s snort and muttering of the word ‘nerd’ was under his breath, Kirishima didn’t fail to hear it. He chose to ignore it, though, with a bubble of amusement in his chest while he headed toward the back of the room where most of the supplies were.

“You wanna paint somethin’?” he asked, shuffling through the stack of unfinished canvases for the one he’d been working on the past couple weeks.

“No. I suck ass at painting.”

“But you did my makeup so well yesterday,” countered the redhead.

“Weren’t you the one who said paint doesn’t blend like makeup?”

Kirishima pulled his canvas from the stack. “Touché,” he admitted. “I take it you’re not in an art class, then.”

“Nope. I’m doing all my elective shit in gym.”

Well, that definitely explained the freaking abs Bakugou had—the ones that Kirishima had been finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes away from while they were getting dressed in the morning, seeing as Bakugou had picked up a habit of walking out of the bathroom after his shower only half dressed most of the time.

“Have you ever taken an art class?” Kirishima couldn’t help asking as he retrieved a table top easel and set it up at his usual corner table where Bakugou plopped himself down on a stool beside him.

“I did in like, elementary school.”

“That doesn’t count. Everybody does that.”

“Then no.”

“And you don’t just do art for fun, right?”

“Nope.”

“Then of course you suck at painting, man.”

“What the fuck is that s’posed to mean?”

“It means you’ve never had any practice,” the redhead called from across the room again while he gathered the paints and brushes and such. “Sadly it’s not really a matter of  ‘natural talent’. Like, you gotta practice and really wanna get better at something to actually get better, and it doesn’t happen overnight like lots of people think.” He set the things down in his space, feeling the blonde’s eyes on him the whole time, and went back for the palette seal box with his name taped across its blue lid. “Can’t tell you how annoying it can be when people are like ‘I wish I was talented like you’ or whatever.”

Bakugou’s face, Kirishima found as he glanced at him again while planting himself on his stool once his smock was tied around his waist, was twisted up in confusion. “Isn’t that a compliment?”

“I mean, that’s usually the intention, but not really in the eyes of the artist.”

“That makes no damn sense.”

“‘S because for one, it doesn’t really focus on the art or the artist and two, like I said, ‘s not really talent. For most artists it takes a shit ton of work to get where they are, and most times where they are isn’t their end goal. Hell, ‘m not really sure if most artists actually get to that kind of end goal ‘cause once they reach one, they always set the bar higher for themselves.”

“...I guess?”

Kirishima found himself grinning when he got up once more to put some music on over the stereo speakers in the room. “Hmm… lemme put it this way—if someone were to be like ‘yo, I wish I had muscles like you,’ what would you tell them?” he said as he planted himself back onto the stool and raked his hands through his hair to tie it back.

“I’d just tell them to go to the damn gym.”

“Why’d you tell ‘em that?”

“Why else? ‘Cause the only way you build muscle is by working out.”

“See? That’s exactly how it is with art—like building muscle. You gotta work for it. Just wishin’ for it won’t get you anywhere.”

“You sound like a friggen Kindergarten teacher with all this ‘practice makes perfect’ bullshit,” Bakugou mumbled as he crinkled up the wrapper from his crackers. “Trash?”

“Near the door. And hey, practice makes perfect isn’t a total lie, man.”

“Then what about all that shit they tell you about nobody being perfect, huh?” the blonde was saying as he crossed the room.

“Hmm, I think perfection depends on how you define it. Otherwise I don’t think it could even exist. Not even the simple idea of it.”

Bakugou’s arms were crossed loosely over his chest when he sat back down. “Now you sound like some kinda philosopher,” he said.

“Oh man, I dunno if I should take that as a compliment or not,” said the redhead, already in the process of mixing up his colors. “Philosophy is hard as shit.”

“It’s boring as shit, that’s for sure,” Bakugou agreed. “‘S basically a buncha dead assholes from a long ass time ago trying to explain literally everything. It’s stupid.”

Kirishima’s head was bobbing in a nod. “I couldn’t agree more, my dude.”

Their conversation carried seamlessly throughout the next little while as Kirishima multitasked in working on his painting—an aurora borealis design he’d been practicing to paint on the newest board in the works at home. Despite his claim not to be a good painter (or artist, for that matter), Bakugou provided noncommittal suggestions here and there that, most of the time, surprisingly helped. He would provide Googled photos of the borealis to help him along, too, when he needed them to explain what he was getting at.

The music filled up what little silence there happened to be between them, during instances where their conversation would fall quiet and Kirishima knew , despite his eyes remaining on his work, that Bakugou was watching him paint. It was a little unnerving, he had to admit, having the guy he was slowly but surely developing feelings for watching so closely over his shoulder. It made it tough to relax and get into the groove he normally found himself in while doing any kind of artwork. Even still, internally he was practically euphoric that Bakugou had elected to join him.

Eventually, Bakugou did turn his attention to his phone and slumped quietly over the table, resting his chin on his arm while the other was stretched out lazily in front of him with the phone resting in his hand.

“You don’t have to stay if you’re bored,” Kirishima told him, albeit reluctantly.

“‘M not. Your dumb friends are spamming me.”

Kirishima’s brush halted. “Huh?” he mumbled as he looked over.

“Guess they found me through you or somethin’,” he said, showing the redhead the notifications that were popping up on his Instagram. Sure enough it was their usernames—mostly Mina’s—showing up all the way down the screen. “And they’re tagging me in those dumb pictures from last night.”

“Oh yeah, guess you’re right,” Kirishima agreed. He set his brush down and leaned in closer to see when Bakugou started clicking on the photos. “Hey, y’know they’re your friends now too, right?”

The blonde responded with nothing more than a click of his tongue while he scrolled right through Mina’s page until he reached the first photo—one that Bakugou himself wasn’t even in. As he scrolled up, there were several of just her with each of the others, one by one until the group photos had started. They’d acted out their costumes and, Kirishima had to admit, looked pretty damn ridiculous, but he also couldn’t deny it had been fun.

It was over a dozen photos later before Bakugou started to show up. Kirishima keenly noticed how his expression had gradually gone from utter annoyance to tolerance to… actually sort of looking like he was enjoying himself. (Plus, even though he hadn’t been in a costume, the redhead thought he looked better than any of them; the dude was seriously photogenic, though maybe that was just his own bias talking.)

Just as Kirishima was forming that thought, Bakugou huffed in disgust. “Ugh. I look like shit in these pictures.”

Astonished, Kirishima’s back straightened. “Dude! No you don’t,” he said automatically.

“Yes I fucking do. My eyeliner was smudged to hell so it looks like I haven’t slept in like a thousand years.”

An amused chortle bubbled up before Kirishima countered, “Your eyeliner is always smudged, though.”

“Yeah, but in a specific way. Right here I look like more of a goddamn zombie than you .”

Kirishima’s next sentence slipped out before he could stop it. “C’mon man, you know you’re an attractive dude. A little extra smudged eyeliner doesn’t even matter.” As soon as the words were out, Kirishima’s nerves pricked with fear—fear that he’d accidentally said too much, or that what he said was too weird , that it’d push Bakugou away, make him think he was creepy or something terrible along those lines.

But the fear was for nothing, because Bakugou huffed and mumbled, “Thanks, I guess. But that shit does matter. To me, anyway.”

The redhead let out his breath of relief in a question. “How come? D’you care that much about what other people think?”

“Fuck no. I care what I think.”

Kirishima found himself laughing a little as he reached for his brush again, causing the blonde to turn and train his narrow-eyed gaze right on him. “What?” he muttered.

“Nothin’,” Kirishima said with a shrug while he cleaned his brush. “That makes sense, I guess.”

“That mean you do your hair all crazy to impress other people?” Bakugou sat up as Kirishima’s brush touched his canvas again.

“Mm, nah. You have a point there. I do it ‘cause I like it. Doesn’t really bother me if anybody else does or not.”

“I rest my case,” mumbled the blonde before going back to his phone, again leaving the music to be the only thing filling the silence of the room.

Inevitably in the lack of conversation, Kirishima couldn’t stop thinking about his almost slip-up. “C’mon, man, you know you’re an attractive dude.” The words repeated themselves over and over in his head until they started to sound weird and lose meaning. And damn, he knew he was probably thinking way too much into it—because he knew he liked Bakugou and had a constant underlying fear that he’d accidentally say or do the wrong thing too soon and ruin not only what chances he might have at getting closer to his roommate in that way, but their friendship as a whole and spend the rest of the year in a room full of tension because of it. Sure, he was brave enough to take small risks in hopes that it would go somewhere and knew that trying would be the only way he might get there, but he definitely wasn’t ballsy enough to be so upfront so soon. He was seriously glad when Bakugou had taken it so lightly and hadn’t thought too much into it himself.

And hey , thought the redhead, now he at least knows I think he’s good looking.

A while later Kirishima was pulled out of his thoughts by a huff of amusement on the blonde’s part. “Look,” he said, angling his phone in Kirishima’s direction where a short comic filled the screen.

{this photo is too big to try and put into the actual text, so click here to see it!}

“Dude,” Kirishima said with a sly grin, “should I be worried that you’re hiding bodies in our closet?”

“Yeah,” drawled the blonde, “I murder for fucking fun . Don’t tell anybody.”

“Eesh! Should I be worried for myself, then?” he asked.

“Yeah, idiot. Watch your back.”

Kirishima was still grinning when Bakugou tilted the phone in his direction again, this time a smaller, less colorful photo occupying the screen.

{see it here!}

“Oh shit, now I’m really scared,” Kirishima said. “Maybe I should go to Mr. Aizawa with this…”

Bakugou promptly yanked the phone away, clicking his tongue as before, though with the relaxed state of his usually crumpled forehead, it was clear he wasn’t taking the redhead seriously. “What, you some kinda snitch?” he mumbled.

“Yeah man, that’s why I hide my skateboard in the closet, so I can rat other people out.” Kirishima’s smirk emphasized his sarcasm.

“Hmph. What a hypocrite.” Bakugou needed no smirk to indicate sarcasm—his snide tone of voice did that for him.

And Kirishima was on cloud freaking nine that he and the blonde had reached the point where they could joke like this, where Bakugou was finally the one showing him stupid, amusing shit he found on the internet. He’d known Bakugou at the very least didn’t mind being tagged and sent the memes Kirishima found during his regular scrolling, but until then he had never really been sure if he enjoyed them, even if just a little.

He didn’t say much of anything about the ones he was using in an attempt at flirting, though Kirishima couldn’t say he’d expected him to. He was doing his best to keep them subtle as possible (which meant he definitely wasn’t sending any of the pick-up line memes his friends—especially Kaminari—had found… not yet, anyway) by sort of playing them off as jokes and sending them in between several regular, strictly not flirting memes.

“Annnnd, done,” Kirishima said after adding the last finishing touch to his painting and sticking his paintbrush into the muddied cup of water. “Whattaya think?” he asked as Bakugou looked up.

“‘S pretty cool,” said the blonde.

Kirishima felt himself practically beam. “Thanks, man.” He hopped off his stool and crossed the room to fish a sharpie out of the supply cabinet before heading back over and scribbling his signature in the bottom right corner of his painting. He could feel Bakugou’s eyes on him the whole time just as he had before, and somehow there was something reassuring about it. Swiftly he snapped a photo of the painting and took a moment to post it to Instagram with his usual hashtags.

“I just gotta clean up and then we can go. But you can head off without me if you want…” He trailed off when Bakugou started collecting the bottles of paint.

“Where do these go?” he asked.

“Um, over in the cabinet,” said the redhead, jerking his thumb in said direction. “But you don’t have to help, Bakugou—“

“‘S faster this way,” was all he said, already halfway to the cabinet.

“Good point. Thank you.”

The two worked together to the sound of the music to clean up the paint supplies. Kirishima left his painting on the rack to dry and wiped down the table, hung his smock, and shut off the music. He was sure to key in the lock code for the room as they were leaving, and then they headed down the hall.

Bakugou’s eyes were on his phone as they shuffled along the quiet corridors of the building, the opposite hand simply resting in his pocket as it usually did when he walked. Just as Kirishima saw the blonde’s thumb double tap the screen, a vibration came from his pocket, prompting him to slide out his own phone and see the little notification lit up across the center of the screen.

“fuck_off liked your post. 2m”. With butterflies still in his stomach, Kirishima rode cloud nine all the way back to the dorm room.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

November was already in full swing when the following Thursday rolled around. Mornings were becoming exceptionally cooler and already talk of the winter holidays was popping up everywhere. Kirishima was quick to find out how grumpy the increasing cold made his roommate, but he couldn’t help but find the grumpy complaints—as they walked to the main school building together, Bakugou’s hand stuffed in his pockets with his shoulders hunched and his face twisted up in irritation—kind of adorable.

“Alright, ‘m ready for summer to come back,” he muttered. “Four days in a row of this shit and I’m done . Why the fuck can’t humans hibernate like bears or someshit?”

“I dunno, dude. ‘S not that bad, though. Maybe it’ll actually snow this year,” Kirishima said thoughtfully, gazing upward at the slightly overcast sky.

“Oh, fuck no. Not unless there’s a snow day and they cancel school. But shitty boarding schools don’t have snow days, do they?”

“Sadly, no,” sighed the redhead. “Definitely somethin’ I miss about not living on campus. Unless, ya know, there’s a snowstorm big enough to knock out the power or something, but you know how it is here… that rarely happens.”

“If you fuckin’ jinxed it I’m gonna kill you,” Bakugou was saying just as a breathless Kaminari jogged up from around the boys’ dorm where Kirishima and Bakugou were just about to do the same toward the main school building.

“Guys!” he huffed. “Glad I found you. School’s canceled today.”

Immediately Bakugou perked up just slightly. “What?”

“A pipe burst in one of the girls’ bathrooms,” he explained. “I heard that half that hallway is flooded.”

“From who?” Kirishima asked suspiciously.

“Sero.”

“Got it. So ‘s probably bullshit,” Bakugou muttered, his short-lived hope deflating as he hunched his shoulders again in clear annoyance.

“I mean the part about the hallway being flooded might be, but a pipe definitely burst, and school is definitely canceled for today. Probably for tomorrow, too.”

“Wait, seriously?” Kirishima asked.

“Yup. There are signs posted all over and everything. They probably sent out a schoolwide email, too, and everybody’s headed back to their dorms. Bet they’ll probably make an announcement about it soon.”

“The fuck? You sayin’ I got out of bed early on this shitty, cold-ass morning for nothing?” Bakugou said.

“Guess so, man.”

“Damn. Oh well, I guess,” Kirishima said with a shrug. “You guys wanna hang out in the game room or something then?”

“I would, but me and Kyouka are gonna take advantage of the day off and hang out by ourselves,” Kaminari said with a somewhat mischievous grin. “You could probably find Sero and Mina somewhere if you wanted, though.”

“Fuck that,” Bakugou was saying, already turned around and heading back toward the door they’d recently come out of. “I’m going the fuck back to bed.”

“Dang, dude’s grumpy in the mornings, huh?” Kaminari said, gazing over Kirishima’s shoulder after him.

“Yep,” Kirishima said with his usual smile—one that Kaminari mirrored with even more mischief in his eyes.

“You’re getting it pretty bad for him, huh?” He sent a fist toward the redhead’s shoulder. “You’re always smiling when he’s around.”

“I dunno…” Kirishima scratched at the back of his neck, eyes dropping down to Kaminari’s feet as he hoped the heat he felt creeping up his neck wasn’t visible. “I really do like him, but I don’t wanna jump into anything too fast.”

“Gotcha. But you know he seems to have a thing for you too, right?”

Just like that, Kirishima’s eyes snapped right back up to his friend’s. “Wait, what? Whattaya mean? How d’you know?”

Kaminari laughed. “Dude! Are you blind ? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“What?! No! The hell are you talking about?” Kirishima wanted to shake Kaminari’s damn shoulders to get answers out of him faster. His heart had skipped and kicked into overdrive, and by then he was sure the tips of his ears were flaming (though he hoped Kaminari would just chalk it up to being because of the cold).

“Me and the others were talking about it the other day after the Halloween party, dude. It’s not like he looks at you exactly the same way you look at him, but he definitely looks at you differently than he does any of us. And acts differently when he’s talking to you as opposed to us.”

“How… how do I look at him?” Kirishima felt himself growing desperate, a flurry of confusion, excitement, and slight fear whipping around within him, his stomach tight and his fingers curling into anxious fists.

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause we know you like him, but your eyes are like, bigger and brighter, y’know? And like I said, you smile a lot when he’s around. He doesn’t smile so much obviously, but I dunno, there’s somethin’ softer about him when he’s talking to you. At least that’s how Mina described it.”

Kirishima blinked at him a few times, trying to wrap his head around all of this. Did Bakugou really look at him differently? Talk to him differently? Did he?

“Also we’re pretty sure he only went to the Halloween party ‘cause you asked him to. Midoriya said that he was super set on not going whenever him and his friends tried to get him to, but he didn’t even hesitate when you were the one who asked if he was going.”

“When did you talk to Midoriya about it?”

“We ran into him in the gym while you and Bakugou went to eat,” explained Kaminari. “He was like ‘How’d you get Bakugou to go?’ Well, actually he called him by that weird nickname he has for him… but we just told him that you asked him if he was going and he said yeah, and then he told us that. And lemme tell you, Mina was seriously freaking out about it ‘cause she was the one who pointed out the fact that he looks and acts differently around you in the first place.”

Kirishima’s head felt like it was about to pop right off of his shoulders. “Um… wow,” was all he managed to mumble, causing Kaminari to laugh and clap a hand onto his shoulder.

“Man, I can’t believe you’re that oblivious to it! But hey, maybe don’t read quite too much into it just yet, okay? Wait and see how he reacts to all those memes you’ve been sending him,” Kaminari said with a wink. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up right away only to be disappointed, ya know?”

“Right…” Kirishima mumbled. “Thanks, man.”

“No prob! Anyway, have fun on your day off. Kyouka’s waiting for me so I gotta go. Maybe we’ll catch you later for dinner or something, okay?”

“Sure. See ya, Kami.”

“Later, Kiri!” Kaminari called over his shoulder as he was already jogging away.

Kirishima made his way back to his room in somewhat of a haze, only having so long to try and wrap his head around everything his friend had just hit him with in such a short amount of time with no warning. And of course because the one they’d been talking about was in the room, he wouldn’t have time right away to sit and ponder for a while—not without being questioned, anyway.

Bakugou looked like he’d done nothing more than change back into his flannel pajama pants and fling himself onto his bed without even burrito-ing himself in his blankets as he’d been doing for the past several chillier nights. He wasn’t asleep, though, and had rolled over as soon as he heard the door open.

“The fuck took you so long?” he mumbled with half-lidded eyes.

“Just talkin’ to Kaminari for a minute,” Kirishima told him. “Hey so, um, are you really gonna go back to sleep?” he asked.

The blonde huffed out a long sigh, his eyes shutting. “Probably not,” he grumbled. “Now that ‘m all awake and shit.”

“You… wanna maybe go get some breakfast or something, then?” Kirishima asked as he let his backpack slip to the floor beside his bed.

Bakugou sighed as he sat up. “Yeah. Might as well.”

Kirishima was on high alert throughout the entire meal, finding himself looking for signs of everything Kaminari had told him. Really, though, he couldn’t see how Bakugou looked or spoke to him ‘differently’. He was his normal self. Sure he made eye contact a lot, but that was what you did when having a conversation. His eyes were their normal, piercing, alluring crimson—that breathtaking color that had easily become Kirishima’s favorite in the past couple of months. While his tone of voice wasn’t hard or on the verge of being a growl as it sometimes had the tendency to resemble, it wasn’t particularly soft , either. It was just… his normal, smooth Bakugou voice that Kirishima had already decided was probably his favorite. Ever.

He was just… Bakugou . The same Bakugou that Kirishima knew every day. The one who’s sleepy, grumpy, just-woke-up voice made every one of his mornings. The one who found the silliest reasons to be irritated only to get over it just minutes later. The one who complained about homework but did it anyway, and had so many cool stories to tell and things to talk about. The one who embraced the term ‘lazy teenager,’ holding himself in a slumped position more often than not, took naps in the middle of the afternoon, and was constantly on his phone in his spare time. The one who had to have perfectly smudged eyeliner, whose hair was in a different disheveled array every day, whose lips were soft and pink and just the right shape, who was tall and lean and perfectly muscular…

He was freaking Bakugou —the one Kirishima really freaking enjoyed spending time with, even if they weren’t doing anything special. The one Kirishima really fucking liked .

But he found no difference in the way the blonde acted. He needed some sort of comparison—just remembering the way his roommate talked and acted around anybody else wasn’t enough. He needed to see it happening in front of him, knowing now what all of his friends seemed to have picked up on that he hadn’t.

But for that day, he was doomed to not knowing. It was as if as soon as they found out school was canceled for the day, everyone he knew had made other plans, which left him and Bakugou alone in their room together once again, and the redhead did his best to remain as normal as possible in spite of the questions swirling around his mind.

“So whatcha wanna do, man?” he asked, plopping himself onto his bed.

“I don’t fucking know,” sighed the blonde, doing the same. “The lounge and shit are probably packed full of people since school’s canceled, so fuck that.”

“True,” Kirishima agreed. “And I dunno about you, but for once I actually don’t even have any homework I gotta get done.”

“I do, but again, fuck that.”

“Aw c’mon, man, you’re trying to graduate right? Might as well get it done while you have some extra time. I’ll help you if ya want… as long as it’s not chemistry or somethin’. I suck ass at chemistry.”

“Fuck no. Why would I take chemistry? I’m not a nerd. ‘S just some worksheet bullshit from my history class.”

“History’s not so bad. I’m pretty good at bullshitting answers if ya need, too,” he offered.

“What’s this, some kinda shitty, goody two-shoes peer pressure?” muttered the blonde. “Fuckin’ fine, but since you’re making me do this shit I’m not letting you get out of helping now.” He reached for his backpack and yanked the zipper open.

Kirishima found an easy grin as he moved onto the floor between their beds, the space they usually used to study and do homework together. With that grumpy frown Kirishima had found almost endearing since the beginning, Bakugou too slumped to the floor before yanking his books out and tossed them onto the floor between them with little care.

It turned out that Bakugou hadn’t even started the homework, though Kirishima would’ve been more shocked if he had . Not only that, but the damn thing was due that day .

“Looks like you lucked out with the day off, man,” the redhead said as he was looking at the due date printed at the top of the paper just beneath the directions.

“Like it would’ve mattered,” Bakugou muttered. “Never even planned on doing this shit in the first place.”

Kirishima shook his head in disapproval.

“What?” Bakugou half snapped.

“You want that bike, don’t you?” Kirishima asked. “And to get the hell out of here sooner than later?”

“Obviously,” huffed the blonde, looking away as he clearly already knew what Kirishima was getting at. “Whatever. Let’s just do the stupid homework already.”

As was usual for study time, Kirishima put on soft music for background noise as they worked. Eventually he ended up moving across the small space to sit beside the blonde to better see the paper and textbook side by side, and even then they were still googling as many answers as they could among questions not readily available in the book.

“Damn, so you’re willing to cheat too?” Bakugou had asked the first time the redhead whipped his phone out and pulled up Google.

“‘S not cheating if it’s just homework, right?” Kirishima had asked. “It’s not like your teacher will know anyway, and you can learn a lot from Google. What else is technology for?”

“You mean other than all your damn memes?”

“Exactly,” Kirishima said with a laugh.

Of course, the entire time—while Kirishima was relieved he managed to remain outwardly like himself—he was acutely aware of the blonde, only inches away from him the entire time they worked. He was aware of even the tiniest of movements Bakugou made; his ears caught on every word he uttered and hung off of the tones of his voice. There were even instances where he’d get small whiffs of his cologne, sending a jolt through him. His stomach never stopped fluttering.

Bakugou never moved away, either. Kirishima had sat relatively close on purpose as a test and had been prepared to make the excuse that he needed to see the worksheet Bakugou had kept in his lap the entire time on the chance the blonde would say something about his proximity (he didn’t). Every so often their knees would accidentally knock together or their arms would brush when one reached for the textbook. Not once did Bakugou tug himself away. Even so, Kirishima couldn’t tell if it was because what Kaminari told him was accurate or if his roommate simply didn’t notice or care that they were as close as they were.

And man, his head felt like it was going to explode in trying to figure it out. Bakugou was so hard to read! He was quick to express his irritations and complain about little things, but when it came to anything else, Kirishima could never guess.

Apart from Bakugou’s blatant not moving away, Kirishima really couldn’t see anything abnormal about his behavior at all. And man , he wished he had something to compare it to…

“‘Kay, I’m fuckin’ done with this shit,” Bakugou muttered a couple hours later, practically shoving his homework off of his lap. “It’s good enough.”

“Y’sure, man? We still didn’t finish number seven.”

“Don’t give a fuck. I’m gonna go fucking insane if I stare at this shit any longer.”

“That’s fair. You’ll probably get at least a decent grade on this, anyway,” the redhead said as he stretched his arms out in front of him. Bakugou was busy stuffing his homework and textbook back into his backpack, yanking the zipper shut, and tossing the entire thing all the way over to the other side of the bed as Kirishima checked the time. “It’s only 10. Wanna go see if the lounge is still crowded?”

“Whatever. Needa stretch my legs anyway,” the blonde said.

Unsurprisingly the lounge was, in fact, still full of people. The TVs were occupied, as was the foosball table and all of the couches and bean bag chairs around the entire area. Bakugou huffed when they showed up.

“Don’t people have anything better to do with their damn day off than sit around in here all damn day? Why the fuck is it so crowded now ?”

“Dunno, man. Maybe we should grab something to drink and a board game or somethin’ and go back to the room,” Kirishima suggested. Truthfully, he didn’t mind the people sitting around, talking and laughing and enjoying their day off. Had he not been with Bakugou he likely would’ve gone and sat with any number of the people he saw hanging around that he knew, even if he wasn’t super close friends with any of them.

But he was with Bakugou, and he was definitely friends with Bakugou—and would become close friends with him at the very least if he had anything to do with it.

As the two were browsing through the already ruffled through refrigerators in the small kitchen just off from the lounge for something to drink, the sound of footsteps entering the room caught the redhead’s attention and had him swiveling around to see Midoriya walking in, still wearing his pajamas as most of the other kids were. “Oh hey, Midoriya!” he said with an automatic smile.

“Hey, Kirishima. Hi, Kacchan,” greeted the other as a stiff Bakugou stood up from pawing through the refrigerator he was at. “Where’ve you guys been all morning?”

“Studying,” Kirishima answered coolly. “Bakugou was lucky enough to get an extra day for his history homework, so I was helping him out with it.”

“ You were studying, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked with a small, slightly disbelieving smile.

“Yeah, what of it?” grumbled the blonde. “I gotta pass and get out of this shitty school. Why’re you so damn surprised?”

Midoriya shook his head, his freckles scrunching up a little more toward his eyes. “I’m not, really. I’m glad you’re trying to be successful.”

“Whatever,” spat Bakugou under his breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “C’mon, Dumb Hair. Everybody already hogged all the drinks so let’s go find a vending machine.” With that, he slouched toward the door.

“Sorry, dude,” Kirishima apologized once the blonde had left. “He’s in a grumpy mood ‘cause he woke up early for nothing.”

“It’s no big deal. Kacchan’s always like that.”

Kirishima felt his smile fade a little. “...right,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I’mma go catch up with him. See you later, man!” He gave Midoriya a high five before half-jogging to catch up with his roommate, who was halfway to one of the back entrances to the lounge.

“Guess that’s why nobody’s outside,” Kirishima said as soon as they rounded the corner toward the gym. All along the main sidewalk and in the parking lot were plumbing fans, hoses, and people in jumpsuits walking around between them and the main academic building.

“Shit,” Bakugou mumbled. “Guess Pikachu wasn’t kidding.”

“Bet they’ll cancel school tomorrow, too,” guessed the redhead.

“Great. Another day of being stuck in the fucking room,” sighed the blonde.

“Maybe we can snag a couple DVDs from the lounge and play ‘em on my laptop.”

Bakugou’s response was nothing more than a usual grunt and the remainder of their trip to the gym and back was virtually quiet, save for when Bakugou asked what Kirishima wanted and was provided an answer, and then had tossed said drink to Kirishima before he could really even protest.

“Dude, you didn’t have to buy it for me--”

“Deal with it,” the blonde cut in as he was already walking away, twisting open the cap to his Mountain Dew.

Kirishima could only follow him once more, speechless as the whole thing Kaminari had brought up earlier that morning resurfaced in his mind, and his thoughts seemed to fly at a million miles an hour. He seemed to be on autopilot as they shuffled through the closet full of old board games in the lounge and selected Jenga, as well as when they walked back to their room and set it up.

Bakugou doesn’t buy other people stuff .

Not that Kirishima had ever really seen him have the opportunity to. But did that… really mean anything? Maybe it was just because they were roommates. Maybe Bakugou did act that way around his other friends, and Kirishima just hadn’t been around to see it.

Crap! I’m seriously overthinking this…

And he knew he was, but he couldn’t help it.

‘It’s no big deal. Kacchan’s always like that.’  Midoriya’s words rang in Kirishima’s ears over and over for nearly the entire day, and he silently cursed Kaminari for so suddenly putting all this shit in his head. It was going to be a long weekend...

Chapter Text

Bakugou

“By the way, your father and I will be coming to visit this Saturday sometime in the afternoon.”

“...what?!”

“I love you and we’ll see you then. Bye, Katsuki!”

The line went dead before Bakugou could get another word in, and it took every last ounce of self control he had not to yank the phone away from his face and smash the ‘call back’ button because he damn well knew that bitch wasn’t going to answer if he called again, and he’d sure as fuck get an earful if he bugged her about it.

No wonder she fucking called, he thought bitterly. She doesn’t call unless she’s gonna drop some shitty bomb on me like that.

Usually his mom stuck to text message to check up on him because of her busy schedule, and he knew she kept tabs on him through that asshat Aizawa because of course she didn’t trust him to tell the truth—or at least not the whole truth. And she was right not to, because he was notorious for keeping shit from her, like the fact that he’d been reassigned dorm rooms (which she knew through that damn principal, of course) and now that he was actually friends with the bright ball of fucking sunshine he shared a room with (which she incidentally didn’t know through Aizawa, at least not yet).

So he was more than a little suspicious when his phone lit up with an incoming call and he’d let it ring for a minute before hesitantly tapping the green answer icon. At first it seemed like any normal check up, but Bakugou knew better and remained skeptical for the entire conversation (in which he’d been half-assing all of his answers to her shitty bombardment of questions), and rightfully so, seeing as she’d dropped that bomb on him without any damn warning.

As a result, the blonde found himself in a bitter mood for the remainder of the week in anticipation of seeing his parents. It wasn’t that he had a bad relationship with them or was adamantly against seeing them, but wasn’t part of the point of this whole shitty boarding school situation for him to gain some damn independence and act right on his own without them checking up? Plus there was not a single damn doubt in his mind they wouldn’t find some ridiculous way to embarrass him. They were his parents for fuck’s sake.

His grumpier-than-usual attitude had everyone who already avoided him avoiding him more, and those who didn’t usually had started to. It got to the point that as soon as he’d showed up for lunch (late, as usual), Deku and his stupid group of nerds had gotten up the second they saw him coming and made a bullshit excuse to leave, and he knew better than to think their excuse wasn’t just that and that they really had somewhere to be.

So he’d ended up with Dumb Hair and his group of nerds—who he, admittedly, was starting to like better than Half-and-Half, Pink Cheeks, and Frog Girl anyway. Those losers welcomed him with open arms, of course, but were quick to pick up on his bitterness. But while he knew he wouldn’t (and hadn’t made an effort to) tone down such an attitude around Deku, he found himself trying to suppress it while with Kirishima’s idiots like he actually fucking cared what they thought.

That didn’t mean it got past them, though, especially not Dumb Hair himself. Friday afternoon when he showed up to the dorm room after his weekly visit with Aizawa (who’d kept him after the eighth period dismissal bell, of course, because this week was just being so kind to Bakugou) and dumped his shit on his bed, carelessly kicking his shoes off into the corner, Kirishima finally asked him about it.

“Yo, what’s been up with you lately, man?”

Even though Kirishima’s tone of voice was calm—soft, even—and he clearly didn’t mean the question out of any sort of spite, a prick of annoyance surfaced as Bakugou flopped onto his bed.

“What’s it matter to you?” he muttered.

“I’m just kinda worried is all,” the redhead told him. “I’m not trying to be nosy or anything.”

“Worried?” The fuck was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, like, did something happen?”

Impulsively Bakugou sat up, turned to face the other, and crossed his legs. “Nope. Not yet, anyway,” he sighed, running a hand sloppily through his hair for probably the millionth time that week.

“Huh?”

“My shitty parents are coming to fucking ‘visit’ me this weekend like I’m some kind of baby,” he grumbled.

Kirishima perked up a little. “Really? That’s why you’ve been in such a bad mood?” he asked.

“I haven’t been in a bad mood,” Bakugou snapped immediately.

“But how come you’re not happy about them coming?” Dumb Hair went on. “I know I’d be pretty happy if my parents were gonna visit.”

“‘Cause part of the reason I came to this shitty boarding school is to gain independence, so what’s the freaking point if my damn parents come check up on me like I’m a damn baby?”

The redhead shrugged. “Probably because they care, man. And hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s probably because you tend to get into trouble that they wanna check up on you a little more than they normally would, y’know?”

“I haven’t gotten into any trouble since the dumb school year started,” grumbled Bakugou.

“See? So then you can tell ‘em that and they’ll see you’re serious about graduating. They’ll probably be proud.”

“Hmph. You say that like you know them.”

That classic smile spread across Dumb Hair’s face, squishing up his dumb, soft cheeks. “They’re parents. Most of ‘em think like that.”

“Whatever.” As he uttered the word, Bakugou laid back down, swiping his stress ball from his bedside table. He started his normal, mindless routine of throwing and catching it while Kirishima dove into a textbook.

Would his shitty parents be proud? It was hard to say; as far as he could remember, they’d never really expressed pride in him at all in the past. It was always scolding and punishing for getting into more trouble or asking him to do chores, and then more punishing when he didn’t. Hell, this whole shitty boarding school situation was just one big punishment for all the shit he’d gotten into at his previous school. He’d hardly listened when his dad had practically chewed his fucking ear off, but he did remember the words ‘the last fucking straw’ coming from both of his parents.

He knew they loved him—it wasn’t like they were bad parents. They gave him what he needed and, more often than not, what he wanted. In the midst of all of his groundings and extra chores they’d made him do as some of those half-assed, unoriginal punishments, one or the other of them would talk to him—or at least try to.

“Why is it you act up so much, Katsuki?” “Is everything okay?” “Is there some other reason I should be worried?”

It had been him who’d shut them out. But even to him, his reasoning for it was unknown. It was just how he was. It was in his nature, and he knew he couldn’t blame anyone else for his own shitty actions. He knew it was his fault that he ended up in this crappy school that… turned not to be quite as shitty as he’d expected. He met Dumb Hair at least…

And that was when it dawned on him that he should’ve told Kirishima about his damn parents coming in the first place. His head swiveled in the redhead’s direction.

“By the way,” he said, grabbing the other’s attention. “They’re probably gonna wanna meet you.”

There was no mistaking it when Kirishima’s eyes widened fractionally for just a second. “Um… right, yeah. That makes sense,” he said.

“What, you nervous or someshit?” Bakugou turned his attention back to his stress ball, his teeth catching on one of the rings in his lip in a fidgety manner.

“Should I be?”

“No fuckin’ clue.”

“...huh?”

“My parents are nosy as shit when it comes to checking up on me and all that,” sighed the blonde. “So if anyone should be nervous it’s me, since they’re probably gonna be asking you shit about me like Aizawa does.”

“Right…” Kirishima mumbled. “Does Aizawa tell you what I say about you?”

Bakugou turned his head again just as the ball snapped back into his hand. “Some. Why, you sayin’ shit about me?”

Kirishima continued to fidget with his pencil as he had been when Bakugou looked over. “Nah, of course not. Besides, if I had issues with you I'd tell you, not rat you out to the principal,” he said. “Or your parents,” he tacked on.

“...good to know, I guess.”

There was a long beat of silence where the only sound was Bakugou’s ball snapping back into his hand after he’d tossed it up. Kirishima was the one to break it. “So are they coming tomorrow?”

“Yup. In the afternoon. So at least we’ll have time to sleep in.”

⚜️

Sleeping in didn’t happen, which fucking figured. Dumb Hair woke Bakugou up just after 9-freaking-AM, sleepily mumbling at him something about his phone ‘ringing non stop.’ He rolled over to find six missed calls, all from his mom, filling up the notification space on his screen.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” he muttered, forcing himself to sit up as he tried rubbing the blurriness out of his sleepy eyes.

“Sorry, man,” Kirishima said. “It woke me up. Figured I’d let you know…” His words petered out into a yawn that Bakugou inadvertently mirrored as he tapped the ‘call back’ button.

“Finally you answer your damn phone,” his mom answered halfway through the first ring. “Get your ass out of bed and meet us in the front office.”

“You said afternoon,” he pressed.

“Surprise! Hurry it up. I brought brownies.”

“Fuck you.”

“And get your shitty attitude in order while you’re getting dressed!”

Before Bakugou had the slightest chance to retaliate, the damn hag hung up. He practically threw his phone back on the table before sitting up only to look up in the midst of running a frustrated hand through his hair and into a pair of wide bright red eyes.

“What?” he snapped.

“Dude,” Kirishima mumbled, suddenly much more awake than he’d been two seconds ago. “Did you just say ‘fuck you’ to your mom?”

“Did it fucking sound like I did?” Bakugou huffed sarcastically. “‘S not a big deal, so don’t make it one.” He kicked his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

“...wow. I’ve never met somebody who talks to their mom that way.”

“Now you have,” muttered Bakugou as he shook out his hoodie and tugged it over his head.

“Right…” Slight apprehension coated Kirishima’s tone. He plopped back down onto his bed, continuing, “So um, d’you want me to come with you?”

“Don’t care. If I was you I’d take advantage of going the fuck back to sleep, though.”

“But you said they’d want to meet me, right?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou stuffed his feet into his shoes and ran his hands through his hair a couple more times. He considered taking a second to do his eyeliner; he hated being where other people could see him without it (the only one who had was Kirishima for inevitable reasons), but if he was too damn lazy to get dressed properly, he was too lazy for the makeup. “But they’ll probably be here most of the damn day, so you can do that later.”

Kirishima shrugged. “I’m already up. Might as well do it now.”

“Suit yourself, Weird Hair.”

While Bakugou remained in his pajamas, Dumb Hair went as far to at least put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie he hadn’t just yanked off the floor, unlike Bakugou himself. But he didn’t give a fuck about looking so rough to see his parents, and he already had about a dozen comebacks for when his mom inevitably scolded him about not getting ‘properly’ dressed. It was fucking Saturday morning. She could kiss his ass.

Bakugou purposely dragged his feet all the way to the damn school building as Kirishima walked along beside him, saying nothing. For once, the fucker didn’t have even a slight shadow of his usual smile on his face; in fact, he sported a damn crease between those small eyebrows of his and his hands remained in the pockets of his hoodie instead of swinging along at his sides.

“Dude,” Bakugou muttered. “They’re just parents. Don’t freak out about it.”

“I’m not!” Dumb Hair defended quickly. “I just wanna make a good impression, y’know?”

“Does it fucking matter?”

Kirishima’s head turned to meet Bakugou’s gaze. “Shouldn’t it? Especially since you said they’re probably gonna ask me about you.”

“Yeah, but that’s shit on me, not you.”

“I know, but we’re friends now. It would seriously suck if you had to leave for some reason.”

Bakugou had no response to that. This shit was a first for him—nobody ever gave a fuck if he stayed or went anywhere, except maybe Deku, and even that was a long ass time ago—long before he started getting into all sorts of trouble and shit. Ever since, people tended to avoid him. And he liked it that way. Kirishima was just… a weird exception. For some reason. Whatever.

Kirishima

An unfamiliar woman’s voice greeted them as they entered the main office in the school building, and Kirishima felt himself stiffen uneasily at the sound of it. His nerves were seriously on edge, knowing what he was walking into, as well as having been inevitably overthinking what Kaminari had told him all week.

“Ah, there he is! I was just about to head straight to his room and kick his ass out of bed myself!”

Bakugou was quick to react. “It’s not my fucking fault you assholes decided to show up at the asscrack of dawn on a Saturday,” he grumbled as they approached the small lounge area in the corner where three people sat—two of which Kirishima could only assume were Bakugou’s parents, the other Mr. Aizawa.

“Dawn was three hours ago,” the woman told him with a dismissive wave of her hand as she stood up. “But I suppose it makes sense that you don’t even know what it looks like because you’re never up early enough.”

“...whatever,” muttered Bakugou as he reluctantly—and stiffly—accepted the squeeze of a hug given to him by his mother, someone who he was almost quite literally the freaking spitting image of! Seriously, if Kirishima didn’t know better he’d say she was his sister; she looked impossibly young; she was only an inch or so shorter than him, but her eyes and hair were the exact same color as Bakugou’s, as well as the way she held herself and the almost… cocky state of her features. Kirishima wasn’t usually one to describe women with such a word, but he couldn’t help it. And, though she wasn’t quite as much as her son—or so Kirishima thought—she was insanely beautiful.

“Well it’s good to see you, too, Katsuki,” she responded sarcastically, planting a fist on her hip. Shit, she even kind of had the same attitude as Bakugou.

“Hon, you know our son isn’t a morning person,” a man’s high-pitched and somewhat rough voice said from behind them; the two blondes parted just enough for Kirishima to get a look at Bakugou’s dad who… resembled him in a much subtler way. The bone structure was what was similar there, as well as the ivory shade of his skin and the unruly state of his hair. In contrast, his hair was several shades darker and his eyes were a soft brown. His eyes were much rounder and his features a lot softer despite the stubble across his upper lip and along his jaw. The height, though, was definitely shared with his son, and Kirishima could see that just by seeing him sitting down.

“Yes, and we have you to blame for that, Masaru,” the woman said.

Masaru sighed, running a hand across his slightly wrinkled forehead. If Kirishima had to guess, his wife and his son were the likely causes for those wrinkles, and part of him couldn’t help smiling just a bit in knowing that.

It was if that small smile was like a sudden magnet for attention, because suddenly the woman’s attention was on him. Immediately he felt himself stiffen a bit and hoped to god it wasn’t visible. She gave him a smile that was… pleasant enough, but with her sharp red eyes it was hard to understand its true purpose.

“Who’s this, Katsuki?” she asked.

“He’s my roommate, Kirishima,” Bakugou told her without mumbling for the first time since being woken up. “He came since I figured you’d wanna be nosy as fuck like normal and meet him.”

“He’s the friend I told you about this morning,” Aizawa added.

The woman went on as if her son wasn’t essentially insulting her. “Oh, yes! For once you were thinking about somebody other than yourself, Katsuki,” she said. Before Kirishima could even think about reacting to that or even wonder if she was really just joking, she stuck her hand right in his direction. “It’s nice to meet you, Kirishima. I’m Bakugou Mitsuki.”

Kirishima found his smile again, even if it was a little forced. “Yeah, ‘s nice to meet you too, ma’am!” he said in a voice he immediately thought to be a little too cheery as he shook her hand. “Kirishima Eijirou,” he told her. It had felt weird when Bakugou hadn’t told her his given name, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was wondering if his roommate even remembered it.

Everyone around him seemed unfazed by his chipper attitude, and he managed to remain outwardly normal when greeted by Masaru—who, he noted, had a gentler grip than his wife.

“We were just hearing from Aizawa that you actually seem to be getting along fairly well with Katsuki,” Mitsuki said with that same grin as before. “I’m impressed.”

“That so?” Kirishima asked, absently rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Katsuki’s not all that great at making friends—”

“The fuck’s that s’posed to mean?!” Bakugou hissed from behind her, his hands clenched into fists.

Mitsuki promptly ignored him. “He’s pretty rough around the edges, to put it lightly, and people tend to get turned off by him within just a few minutes. I can’t say I was surprised when I heard he was moving rooms. Really, I thought he was over the whole death threat, thing—”

“Okay, okay! I think we get the point, Mitsuki,” Masaru cut in. “Spare the boy, hon.” Kirishima was just opening his mouth to tell them it was perfectly okay—if anybody knew how Bakugou could be, it was him after living with him for two months—but when Masaru continued it was made clear that he’d been talking about Bakugou, not Kirishima himself. “He’s been doing really well since he was reassigned. Cut him some slack and don’t embarrass him.”

“‘M not fucking embarrassed,” Bakugou spat. “Kirishima already gets it, so ‘s not like you’re not tellin’ him shit he doesn’t already know.”

Mitsuki’s brows lifted. “Yeah? Has it been awful living with him?”

Kirishima blinked at her for a second, taken aback by the bluntness of the question. “Uhm… no, not at all,” he said. “Actually, I’m glad I do ‘cause it was super lonely before when I didn’t have a roommate, and it’s super cool that I got to make a friend.”

Mitsuki’s smile vanished in an instant, quickly replaced with a completely transparent look of surprise. “I’ll be damned,” she said. “I was prepared to thank you for putting up with him, but it looks like you’ve been doing more than that.” Just like that, the smile returned. “Well shoot, I’m glad Katsuki’s got a friend, especially with how much of a pain he can be. Good to know.”

“You’re the one who’s a pain, old hag,” Bakugou grumbled under his breath, and Kirishima knew he wouldn’t have heard it had Bakugou not been standing right next to him. Mitsuki, on the other hand, either didn’t hear him at all or pretended not to as she turned around and retrieved a small square pan covered in aluminum foil.

“These are for you as a reward for doing so well this far, but don’t eat them all in one sitting,” she told her son pointedly. “And yes, they’re fudge.”

For the first time that morning, Bakugou’s scowl faded and he took the pan, mumbling a “fuck yeah.” He didn’t thank her, but her satisfied expression told Kirishima that the little glint of happiness in his eyes was gratitude enough.

Despite being told he could go, Kirishima elected to hang out for a bit while the four of them talked. Bakugou’s family was… interesting, to say the least, and since his nerves had calmed he found he wanted to get to know them better (but whether that was only because Bakugou was his friend or also because of his growing crush on him, he couldn’t decide for sure). It turned out that the way Bakugou spoke to his mom—and his dad, though not as badly—really was normal, and it was normal for her to talk right back, almost like they truly were siblings who were just bickering. It was weird, but up until the moment Kirishima did break off when Mitsuki announced they had plans to take Bakugou out to lunch with them off campus, he held a bubble of giddy amusement in his chest, and his smile held all the way to Kaminari’s room.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

“Look, Dumb Hair…” Bakugou mumbled the following Sunday night as the two were getting ready for bed. Kirishima—looking dumb with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and his hair hanging in his face—turned to face Bakugou where he was standing in the doorway to the bathroom and gave him a questioning look. “‘M sorry about my parents.”

The question mark look quickly faded into a frown. Swiftly the redhead finished brushing, spat and rinsed. “Sorry for what, exactly?” he asked.

“Whattaya mean, what? They’re fucking obnoxious and my mom is nosy as shit. I already told you.”

“They’re not so bad,” Kirishima told him before taking a swig of water and swishing. Usually he’d do that gurgling thing, but with Bakugou’s narrow red gaze practically scrutinizing him, he wasn’t about to do something so… gross.

“...were you even there ?” Bakugou asked, crossing his arms, his eyes narrow.

Kirishima spit. “Yeah, man. I think you just think they’re annoying ‘cause they’re your parents. Everybody thinks that about their parents at least once,” he said with a shrug, sticking his toothbrush back into its holder.

“Hmph. My parents are exceptionally annoying if you ask me,” muttered Bakugou. “But whatever.” With that he slipped back into the bedroom, leaving Kirishima to finish his nightly routine before joining the other.

“I didn’t think they were annoying,” Kirishima told him as he flopped down in the center of his bed and crossed his legs, facing Bakugou where he sat in a similar position, already halfway under his blankets and getting ready to lie down for the night. “I just thought they were interesting. I’ve… never seen someone have a relationship like that with their parents, y’know? Like, with the cussing and stuff. My mom would probably smack me upside the head if I ever talked to her like that, but it was kinda like that’s how you and your mom express yourselves to each other.”

Bakugou’s eyes, free from the smudged eyeliner Kirishima was so used to (and looking so much more open without it, Kirishima had noticed from the beginning), narrowed for a split second before his features relaxed again and he leaned back against his pillows, tucking his hands behind his head. “Yeah, you’re not the first person to say someshit like that,” he said. “Literally everybody freaks out when they see it.” His sentence was punctuated with a sigh.

Though on the inside Kirishima wanted to keep looking at him—at the perfect contour of the profile of his face (for art purposes… he thought), he too elected to lie down, spreading his limbs out around him. “You don’t sound happy about that,” he observed.

“‘S not it. Believe it or not I gotta be careful around them ‘cause they’re so goddamn nitpicky about my ‘attitude’ or whatever, and if I do some shit that pisses one or both of ‘em off, they’ll ground me or take away some privilege in a heartbeat like I’m still a damn middle schooler.”

“You mean the bike, right?”

“Probably. They hold that shit over my head all the damn time.”

“It kinda didn’t seem like your mom was happy about that whole thing when they were talking with Mr. Aizawa,” Kirishima said.

“She’s not. It was my dad who brought it up and it took like six months to get her to agree before they sent me off here to get me off their backs.”

“How come?”

“...didn’t tell you this shit before, but my dad’s friend—the one who I rode with when I was younger—got into an accident a couple years ago, and he almost didn’t walk away from it. So she’s being all overprotective and shit about it. Fucking figures.”

Kirishima couldn’t help turning his head back toward his roommate, who hadn’t budged save for the very obvious frown on his face. “But that just means she cares about you, dude. It’s kinda her job to be like that, you know?”

“Yeah. I fucking know. Doesn’t mean it’s not annoying as shit, though. The shittiest part is that I’m not guaranteed anything even if I fucking graduate ‘cause of her shit. She’s the type of person who needs proof that I’m serious or whatever, and even then she could change her mind at any second. Women are fucking weird.”

A chuckle escaped Kirishima as he kicked his legs under his blankets and turned on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “I get you, dude. My mom hardly wanted to let me go outside after I face-planted into that glass, but then she made me walk a mile up a busy street to get groceries like a week later ‘cause I was grounded and that was my ‘punishment’.”

Bakugou’s eyes fell closed. “Must be moms, then. Moms are fucking weird.”

“Can’t disagree with ya there. At least we know they love us, though.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“You’re not wrong. Anyway, I’mma get some shut-eye. See ya in the mornin’,” Kirishima said as he reached over and switched his light off, leaving the room illuminated only by Bakugou’s. Just as Kirishima was getting comfortable, that light switched off too, followed by the familiar ruffling of Bakugou situating himself into a suitable position.

“‘Night, Dumb Hair.”

⚜️

Kirishima honestly didn’t think he could like memes more than he already did. Seriously—they were one of the best things the internet provided, and time and time again they fueled him through stressful tests and homework during school, or brightened his day when things in life were getting rough. His camera roll was probably 50% memes, 50% other random crap like screenshots, photos of his art, selfies, pictures with friends, or other miscellaneous things. And since becoming friends with Bakugou and having his plan in place to use memes to try and get Bakugou’s attention ask Kaminari had brilliantly suggested, his phone storage had started to fill up even more . He knew it was dumb, but it made him happy. He truly believed his love for memes was at maximum capacity.

But as he’d been many times before, he was wrong because that inkling changed completely when Bakugou started sending them to him.

It wasn’t often, and memes from Bakugou still didn’t make him nearly as happy as just being with Bakugou did, but it felt like a breakthrough when that little red notification popped up on his Instagram as he absently checked it before class one morning to find his roommate’s username at the top of the list.

“ fuck_off tagged you in a post. 23m”

Since the day in the art room, Bakugou’s tagging became more consistent, though not nearly as frequent as Kirishima’s (who was constantly finding things to send to him, which continued to be the kindling to so many of their awesome conversations). Kirishima was sure to save every single post Bakugou sent his way, and regardless of what they were, none of them failed to put a giant smile on his face that he knew was horribly cheesy.

The photos, memes, and such Bakugou tagged him in tended to have a similar theme as those from the day in the art room, having to do with stuff like hiding a body or murder. It was a dark sort of humor, but it was so Bakugou . And Kirishima had to admit that even he got a laugh out of it, too. His favorite amongst what Bakugou had sent him was one of the first he’d received from the other.

[see it here]

And of course, Kirishima kept up his own strategic memeing, with the flirty ones (that he was trying to make a bit less subtle, seeing as it didn’t seem like Bakugou had picked up on the hints quite yet).

[see it here]

He’d send things like that in between others he’d send normally.

[see it here]

It was still unclear whether Bakugou was picking up the hints he was dropping, but Kirishima had all but forgotten Kaminari’s words from their day off when that pipe burst in the girls’ bathroom:

“But you know he seems to have a thing for you too, right?”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

He’d gone and interrogated Mina about it the second he’d gotten the chance, and with her bright, excited gold eyes she only reaffirmed what Kaminari had told him, only making him more nervous and confused about the whole thing. It was inevitable that he’d keep a keen eye on Bakugou and found himself constantly comparing the way his roommate interacted with him as opposed to how he interacted with others. But he just couldn’t tell . A million questions he had no answers to flew around his brain, too, like… what if Bakugou only acted different around him because they were friends? It was clear Bakugou didn’t consider many other people friends, so it was next to impossible to tell. And what if Kirishima was just noticing little things because he wanted to see them, and because he wanted to think that maybe, slightly, possibly Bakugou had a small, sort-of, little thing for him, too?

“You’re too biased,” Jirou had told him after he’d rambled about his frustrations one afternoon while they were in the girls’ lounge, a rare occurrence when Bakugou hadn’t joined them for the first time in a while because he was meeting with the principal. “It’s easier to see stuff like what Mina’s talking about when you’ve got an outside perspective.”

“But we all agree with her, dude,” Sero said. “Like, Bakugou’s totally not a soft guy at all. You’ve seen the way he curses and stuff when he’s losing at Smash Bros! But when he talks to you it’s different somehow.”

“Different how ?” Kirishima pressed. He was growing desperate for answers and he knew it was obvious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“It just is!” Mina said, tossing her hands up. “It’s impossible to explain!”

“Bro, you’re overthinking it,” Kaminari intercepted. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about it in the first place. But I think the bottom line is that you like him and you should just keep doing what you’re doing, yeah? You guys are already pretty damn close. Keep it up and see where it goes. You can’t really force this stuff, you know? You’re a pretty go-with-the-flow guy anyway.”

Kirishima scratched frustratedly at his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “I guess that’s the best way to not get my hopes up, too, huh?”

His friends all nodded in agreement, allowing Kirishima to relax a bit. He knew it would take a little more than that for him to stop being so obsessive about it, but it was a start and already he felt a bit of that relief sink in.

⚜️

Kirishima had never been so sick of staring at a textbook before in his life. As he tried for what felt like the hundredth time to start this page of a Shakespeare play he could barely remember the name of, the words seemed to blur together. His thoughts kept straying far, far away from whatever weird language was in that book, and nine times out of ten they would land right on Bakugou, who was supposedly off campus “getting some shit,” as he put it.

Sighing, Kirishima rubbed his forehead and adjusted his headband. He was more than ready to just throw the stupid book in the garbage than try and make sense of this weird old language anymore when the sound of the doorknob twisting caught his attention and he glanced up. Bakugou strode in with windblown hair and an irritable frown plastered to his face.

“Yo, Bakugou,” Kirishima greeted, happily letting the textbook fall shut and reveling for a second in the butterflies erupting in his belly.

“Hey, Dumb Hair,” Bakugou grumbled, setting the plastic shopping bag he held on his bed and carelessly kicking off his shoes beside his bed as he usually did.

“What’s up?”

“It’s cold and windy as fuck outside, and I hate it.”

Automatically Kirishima turned around to look outside where it was indeed windy—enough for the last of the dried up leaves to be losing their fight in clinging desperately to their branches. Trees bent over, and a huge white cloud was quickly blowing in from the east.

“Whoa. Wonder if it’ll snow,” he said a bit thoughtlessly, thinking that it’d be pretty damn cool if it snowed. He couldn’t remember the last time it snowed, and he definitely missed it.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was clearly not so enthusiastic. “If you just fucking jinxed it, I’ll kill you,” he practically hissed.

“Ah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t like snow, huh?” Kirishima said, grinning.

“Yeah, and even less since they can’t fucking cancel school because of it since it’s a shitty boarding school.” Bakugou snatched his bag back off of his bed. “Anyway, I have some shit for you.”

Kirishima’s heart jumped. “You what?” he mumbled, blinking in confusion.

The fact that Bakugou kept his eyes averted from his roommate didn’t make it past Kirishima (whose stomach was again a mess of weird butterflies) as the other dug through the plastic bag. Involuntarily his fingers clenched into light fists, wondering if he should be worried.

“...I’m shit at remembering birthdays and crap, so I barely realized that I fucking missed it a month ago or whatever, so here.” His wrist snapped in Kirishima’s direction, sending a small black object flying (and rattling) in his direction. Fortunately his reflexes acted quickly and his hands shot up to snatch it from the air. He turned it over once to find it was nothing more than a jewelry box.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, man,” Kirishima told him while on the inside he was screaming; Bakugou got me a freaking birthday present?!

“Yeah well, I did. So just fucking open it already.”

Kirishima finally let the smile that’d been poking at the corners of his mouth break through and he slid the lid carefully off of the box. Within was simply a silver chain that he pinched between two fingers and lifted. The pendant—or rather, tag, he realized after closer inspection—slid to the bottom and hung in the air, glinting faintly in the daylight. It rotated to reveal the red R etched right into its center.

“Dude!” he blurted, reaching up to grip the tag and get a better look at it. “This is awesome!”

“Figured it suits you,” Bakugou said nonchalantly. “Sorry it’s small or whatever.”

“Nah man, I think it’s great!” Kirishima practically exclaimed. Before he really knew what he was doing he lurched off of his bed and, necklace still in his fist and all, enfolded his roommate in a bear hug. “Thank you!”

The words oh crap filled a Kirishima’s brain the second he realized what he’d done. Bakugou wasn’t a hugger; any of their physical contact since the day they met was nothing more than fist bumps aside from when their arms or knees accidentally brushed when they studied together. And those were accidents . This was… impulsive. As soon as Kirishima felt Bakugou stiffen in his arms, he didn’t know what might happen.

In the second between realizing just what he was doing and making the decision to retract himself and apologize, he hadn’t enough time before he felt a hand pat the center of his back a couple times—stiff but gentle.

“You’re welcome, Dumb Hair,” mumbled Bakugou. Any rough edge his voice usually held was, for once, gone.

And Kirishima could only smile wider when he (reluctantly, he had to admit) removed himself from the hug. “Here, mind helping me put it on?” he asked, unclasping the chain and holding it out to Bakugou. He pinched it between his fingers gingerly before Kirishima turned around and let him hook it around his neck.

Kirishima was so aware of his roommate all the sudden—of Bakugou’s arms moving around him, of the tiniest brushes of his fingers on the skin of Kirishima’s neck when he hooked the chain together. He was even acutely attuned to Bakugou’s freaking breathing . Kirishima felt like he was about to explode.

As it fell into place, the tag came to rest against the center of Kirishima’s chest. He flipped it so the R faced upwards and turned to face the other again.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever…” Bakugou mumbled, running a hand through his hair and turning his attention back to his bag. “And here. You like twizzlers?” he asked, waving a bag of said candy in Kirishima’s direction.

“Heck yeah I do.”

“Take ‘em.”

“You don’t want them?”

“No. Got them for you.”

“You didn’t hafta do all this, Bakugou,” Kirishima said as he accepted the candy.

“Too bad. Happy late as fuck birthday, or whatever.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“So did you not celebrate that shit a month ago or what?”

“Nah. ‘M not super big on having a celebration, so me and the others just did our normal thing and watched some movies and played games in the lounge.”

“Right…”

“Hey, speaking of, d’you wanna go do our Smash Bros match?”

“Fine by me. Don’t cry when I kick your ass, though.”

“Hey, don’t get too cocky! You haven’t seen what I can do with Zelda yet…”

Kirishima was more than grateful to get away from his stupid textbooks for the rest of the evening, and spending it with Bakugou no less only made him that much happier.

Even still, the feeling of Bakugou’s solid, warm figure enfolded in his arms didn’t leave his mind for the rest of the night. Bakugou had been… weirdly gentle—weirdly soft despite his stiffened frame. Solid but soft. It was such a contradiction but something about it just… fit Bakugou. He’d smelled so nice, too, and fit so easily into Kirishima’s arms…

In the back of his mind he could hear Kaminari’s words. “You’re getting it pretty bad for him, huh?” Kirishima couldn’t even deny it anymore—he was. He so was. He found himself hanging off of Bakugou’s every word and trying to memorize the tones of his voice—smooth as freaking chocolate when he was calm and rough and almost chilling when he was fired up. He loved the way Bakugou was so passionate about little things and it only made Kirishima wonder what he was like when he felt strongly about something major .

Almost as much as these thoughts surfaced, his mind equally aware of the chain hanging around his neck now, he was trying to ward such thoughts off. Kirishima wanted Bakugou—of that much he was certain—in so many ways, but he’d known what it was like to get his hopes up only for them to be crushed. He wanted this time to be different. Needed it to be. And his mind felt like scrambled eggs because of it.

Even so, at the end of the day Kirishima knew, regardless of his crush, that he was happy to have Bakugou as a friend if nothing else. For that he was unimaginably grateful.

Chapter Text

Bakugou

Fuck you, Dumb Hair , was Bakugou’s first thought upon peeling his dry eyes open the following morning, when he peered out the window to find none other than a shitty blanket of snow covering everything . In the gray light of dawn outside, he could see big, gross, white flakes were still fluttering all merrily and shit to the ground. It was disgusting .

“Hey, asshole,” he half-shouted, snatching his stress ball and hurling it at the sleeping Kirishima on the other side of the room.

Kirishima practically sprang up like a friggen jack-in-the-box when the ball made contact with his back. “Wha? Wha’s happ’nin’?” he mumbled, turning around. His brow ruffled when he saw the ball and he picked it up, turning toward Bakugou with his messy hair, pillow marked cheeks and all. “Did you throw this at me?”

“No, moron,” Bakugou muttered. “It just fucking gained superpowers and flew at you.”

“...hey, I dunno ‘s not a poltergeist or somethin’,” Kirishima mumbled, pushing his hair out of his face. Past a yawn he said, “Wha’s goin’ on, anyway?”

Bakugou yanked his side of the blinds open and jabbed his thumb toward the window. “You fucking jinxed it.”

All at once Dumb Hair seemed to wake up and get a jolt of excitement. Still holding onto the stress ball he reached up and pulled his blinds open, his huge goddamn eyes lighting up like the damn sun. “Dude! Awesome!” he said.

Bakugou sat up himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he muttered more to himself than to Kirishima as he reached over to twist his lamp on. When it clicked, though, nothing happened. “The fuck?” He twisted the little knob a few more times. Nothing. “Are you fucking shitting me right now?” Bakugou snatched his phone from the table where it was plugged into the charger to find it definitely wasn’t charging, and had only made it up to 72%.

“What’s up?” Kirishima asked flopping back into a sitting position on his bed and rubbing an eye.

“The fucking power is out,” Bakugou told him.

“Nuh uh,” Kirishima said. He reached over to attempt turning his own lamp on, but—of course—to no avail. “Oh shit, it is!”

“Like I fucking said, moron.” Bakugou threw his blankets off and sat all the way up. It was only just after six in the fucking morning, but he was too damn sleepy and annoyed by the outage to even bother to wonder why he’d woken up so goddamn early.

“C’mon, let’s go see if Kami’s up,” Kirishima was saying. He tossed the ball back as he stood and went to pull on a pair of socks.

“Why the fuck would he be up? It’s like 6:10.”

“He gets up early to do his hair. It takes longer than mine, believe it or not,” Dumb Hair was saying as he went for the door. When he yanked it open, none other than freaking Pikachu was standing outside, hand raised to knock. Bakugou couldn’t help but notice his hair was a complete freaking mess, too. “Dude! We were just coming to see if you were up,” Kirishima said.

“The power’s out,” Kaminari said.

“Yeah, we figured that out, idiot,” Bakugou muttered. “‘S not like we keep our room dark as fuck on purpose.”

“Is it out everywhere?” Kirishima asked.

“Think so, man. Kyouka said it’s out in the girls’ dorm, too. I bet we’re probably gonna hear an announcement soon so we should probably head to the lounge and wait for it.”

“Good idea. Ya comin, Baku?”

“You guys are fucking dumbasses. How are they supposed to make an announcement if the power’s out?” grumbled Bakugou.

“Oh shit! You’re right,” Pikachu said as Dumb Hair laughed.

“They might send someone, then. Let’s go wait in there anyway,” Kirishima suggested.

“Good plan. I’mma go wake Sero up first though. I’ll meet you guys there!” Pikachu was already headed down the hall and shouting at them over his shoulder like a dork.

“You gonna come, man?” Dumb Hair asked.

“Might as well,” Bakugou grumbled. He dropped his phone in the pocket of his pajama pants and tugged his comforter from his bed to wrap himself in.

“Aw c’mon man, ‘s not that cold,” Dumb Hair said as they started in a shuffle down the hall—lit up by a few emergency backup lights—side by side.

“I’m hot blooded, so it’s fucking freezing,” Bakugou deadpanned. “How the fuck are you so awake and smiley and shit, anyway?” he asked, eyes cut to the right where Kirishima was, in fact, grinning a little with those big blinding eyes of his.

“‘Cause I love snow and it hasn’t snowed like this in years, dude,” he said. “Like, since we were kids probably. I have lots of good memories with snow days.”

“Like what? Some nerdy shit, like making snow angels?”

“Yeah, and snowmen and having snowball fights. All the usual stuff, pretty much.”

“Hmph. ‘Course.”

The lounge was still virtually deserted when they arrived and took refuge on their usual couch in front of the biggest TV, nothing but one last emergency backup light illuminating the area. “Did you not do stuff like that back when it snowed?” Kirishima asked. He’d sat facing Bakugou directly, crossing his legs up on his cushion.

“Maybe once or twice my mom tried to get me to go outside, but I complained the whole time, so after that I stayed the fuck inside and drank hot chocolate and watched cartoons like a normal kid.”

“But it’s totally normal for kids to have snow days!” Kirishima said. “Are you tellin’ me you’ve never had a snowball fight in your entire life?”

“Nope, I haven’t.” Bakugou kept his eyes away from his roommate as he said it, watching a few others straggle into the room looking pillow-marked and half asleep, just the way he felt. It wasn’t easy to keep his gaze averted, though, because Kirishima lit up like a freaking Christmas tree with utter astonishment.

Kirishima blinked at him for a second with a stupid dumbfounded look on his face. “Okay, that settles it—we’re having a snowball fight today. After school, if they don’t cancel it,” he said. “‘M not taking no for an answer, either. I’ll drag you outside if I have to.”

A glare settled into Bakugou’s features. “Fuck no,” he muttered, though the words were so halfhearted that even he didn’t take himself seriously. But it wasn’t his damn fault Dumb Hair was so hard to say no to!

Dumb Hair had just opened his mouth, surely to be the stubborn fuck he was and insist, when Pikachu returned with Sero who looked like he was freaking sleepwalking; his eyes weren’t even open yet and he was mid-yawn when they walked up. “No word yet, huh?” Kaminari asked.

“Nope. But dude, Bakugou’s never had a snowball fight,” Kirishima practically fucking gushed as the other two came around and plopped in a couple of bean bag chairs they dragged up. Bakugou couldn’t even be surprised stupid Kirishima was stuck on that, and the damn declaration seemed to wake Sero right up.

“Whoa, no way!”

“What kinda childhood did you have, man?” Pikachu asked.

“One with hot chocolate and fudge brownies and cartoons , you shitrag. A normal one,” Bakugou defended.

“We’re gonna take him out for one later,” Kirishima promised the other two as if Bakugou had never even spoken. He sent a glare in Dumb Hair’s direction, and, as usual, it didn’t faze him in the least.

Kirishima’s such a fucking hardhead .

The thought… wasn’t as bitter as Bakugou knew it normally would’ve been. And he chose to ignore that factor.

Dumb Hair and his friends continued to ramble on about stupid snow day activities and how much they hoped school would be canceled because of the power outage (something Bakugou couldn’t agree with more) as others started filing into the lounge until the place sounded like a goddamn cafeteria with all the chatter. For the most part Bakugou kept to himself and his phone; he was too damn tired to care about any of the conversations happening around him.

Kirishima tugged his attention back up anyway. “How’s that sound, man?” he asked, gently nudging Bakugou on the arm.

“How does what sound?” he mumbled back.

“You come have a snowball fight and stuff with us, and then we’ll come back and make a bunch of hot cocoa. One of the old stoves in the kitchen runs on propane, so we won’t need electricity to heat up the water.”

“Why do you care about having a dumb snowball fight so much, anyway?”

“‘Cause it’s fun! You sayin’ you seriously don’t wanna pummel some kids’ heads in with clumps of snow?” Kirishima’s grin was almost cocky, like he knew that would be enough to get Bakugou to agree.

And he was right— almost. For some stupid reason all Bakugou needed after that little bribe was Kirishima’s idiotic, toothy, shiteating smile to convince him.

“Fucking fine. But when you assholes have bruises, just know it’s your fault for talkin’ me into it.”

“Awesome!” The brief sound of a slap filled the air when Dumb Hair and Pikachu high fived.

It wasn’t long after that when a teacher Bakugou didn’t recognize showed up to announce that school was, indeed, canceled. “We’re working on getting the backup generators up and running to keep the place warm until we get the power back on. They haven’t been used in almost five decades so it might take a bit. In the meantime keep all windows and doors shut. We’re permitting the use of candles for extra warmth. Another teacher will be by with those and to supervise while you use them, as well as a kitchen staff member with breakfast foods that don’t need cooked. Any questions?”

Kirishima’s hand was the first to shoot up, and was promptly nodded at. “So I guess going outside and playing in the snow is out of the question?”

“For now, yes. If the power comes back, by all means go have fun. Safely. Anyone else?”

No more questions were asked and the chatter picked back up as soon as the teacher was out the door again.

“Good call on bringing your blanket,” Kirishima mumbled as he shivered in the wake of the cold air blasting in from outside. “Sorry I teased you about it,” he chuckled.

“‘S not my fault you’re a dumbass.”

“I didn’t think I’d get cold!” Kirishima defended. “Anyway, I’mma go get mine so I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever.”

Just as Kirishima left, Sero took his place. “Welp! Looks like it’s a pajama party ‘til further notice,” he said. “Whatcha guys wanna talk about?”

“Shutting up would be nice,” Bakugou told him. Pikachu was clearly too busy on his phone—probably texting his dumb girlfriend, with the way his thumbs were sprinting across the keyboard—to pay attention.

“Talking about shutting up is kinda ironic, man,” Sero said—jokingly, but it was just as annoying.

Bakugou huffed and shrugged away from him, leaving a space that Kirishima promptly flopped into as soon as he returned, wrapped in his blanket. He’d pulled it over his head so it looked like he was wearing a hood. “Much better,” he said as soon as he was settled.

“...you look like the little red riding hood or someshit,” Bakugou told him.

Dumb Hair blinked at him before shuffling his phone out of his cocoon. “Yeah?” he said as he held it up, peering at his own reflection in the black screen of the device. “Hey, I kinda do!” he laughed. He proceeded to open his front camera and snap a few pictures of himself, which Bakugou rolled his eyes at.

“You are too damn happy for being up at the asscrack of dawn,” sighed Bakugou.

“Aw c’mon, shouldn’t you be happy that we basically got a snow day even though we go to a ‘shitty boarding school’?” Kirishima asked, physically air-quoting the last part.

“‘S still too damn early,” was all Bakugou said.

It wasn’t long after that when another faculty member showed up with a box of candles and breakfast snacks, which everyone in the room dug into as soon as they were allowed. Bakugou planned to stay put until the crowd around the box dispersed, but Kirishima—being the thoughtful, gentlemanly fuck he was—held out a package of brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts to him.

“Swiped ya somethin’,” he said.

“...thanks,” Bakugou mumbled. “Man, you’d think the rich bastards who run this school would get a better flavor.”

“Right?” Kirishima agreed, tearing into his own pack as he sat back down. “Too bad I ran out of my s’mores ones or I’d just go grab those.”

“No biggie,” Bakugou told him with a shrug.

The sound of crinkling wrappers filled the room alongside all of the senseless chatter while the teacher spread the unscented candles around the room and lit them. The four of them—more on Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero’s parts than Bakugou’s—went back and forth between their phones and blabbering away about whatever random shit that was brought up, most of which Bakugou didn’t pay much attention to. Typical for him, though, Kirishima occasionally nudged Bakugou and showed him the memes popping up on his Instagram feed.

Eventually the four of them had crowded around a phone— Bakugou’s phone, much to his annoyance, because his had the highest battery percentage—to watch shitty YouTube videos Sero kept pulling up. While most of them were straight up stupid (fitting for the plain-faced bastard), Bakugou was admittedly grateful when it seemed to pass the time and before they knew it, it was nearly noon.

“Thanks, assholes, you drained my battery,” Bakugou muttered, eyeing the little 9% at the top of his screen.

“Sorry,” Sero said.

“Hey, you guys wanna play Jenga?” Kirishima asked suddenly.

“What? You have Jenga?” Pikachu said.

“Nah, it’s in the closet with all the games,” Kirishima explained, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of said closet. “You didn’t know about it?”

“Nope.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” Dumb Hair was already halfway out of his seat when he said it, and Pikachu and Sero followed him like little ducks or someshit. Grumpily, Bakugou spun his phone around and around in his hands while he waited for them to return. And when they did, of course, they brought several boxes that, of course, included Jenga.

It was halfway through their third game of Uno (which Bakugou reluctantly agreed to playing, but only because those fuckers killed his phone battery) and the lounge had mostly cleared out when the majority of the people trickled back to their rooms one by one when what felt like out of nowhere, the power returned. A gust of air blew through the room as the heater kicked on, accompanied by the the lights and every television in the room flickering to life.

“Finally!” Pikachu shouted, throwing up his hands. A collective cheering sounded throughout the remainder of the people in the lounge.

It was only seconds later when the telltale chime of an announcement sounded overhead, and Aizawa’s stupid voice emitted from the speakers, sounding more bored than ever.

“I’m pleased to admit we got the power back up and running sooner than expected. All sidewalks have been shoveled and we’re starting a late lunch in the mess hall. An announcement will be made when it’s ready, and we’ll be letting everyone know by the end of the day whether school will resume tomorrow or not. Thank you for your patience.”

“Ah, food,” Kaminari sighed, patting his belly. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Dumb Hair chimed in. “Hey! Do we still wanna have our snowball fight?”

“Yeah! Kyouka said she’d get the other girls to join, too,” Kaminari said.

“Sweet. Lemme go ask if it’s still okay, then,” Kirishima said as he stood up and practically bounded over to the teacher who’d been with them all day. He was back in seconds. “It’s cool, we just gotta have supervision for it.”

“What the fuck are we, a bunch of two year olds?” Bakugou muttered to himself.

When the announcement that food was ready in the mess hall was made, everyone practically trampled over there; Bakugou hated every second of being in the blowing snow and hid himself as best he could behind Dumb Hair to shield himself from it. As typical for him, Kirishima only laughed and held his blanket out to create a bigger shield and allowed Bakugou in first when they made it to the door.

The meal went quickly—throughout which Pikachu kept inviting basically anybody who walked by him—only because Dumb Hair was too damn eager to finish and get out to have his dumb snow day. He was practically dragging Bakugou out of his seat the second he finished eating.

“We’ll meet you guys out on the track field, ‘kay?” Kirishima said. “C’mon, Baku, let’s go get ready. You’re still coming, right?”

Bakugou knew he had a deep scowl on his face—he really wasn’t in the mood to go back out in the half foot of snow covering literally everything—but he made the mistake of looking up at Dumb Hair. The little fucker had an all-too hopeful look on his face, his eyes smiling like the damn sun even if his lips were relaxed. Jesus fuck , Bakugou hated those eyes.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Awesome! Let’s go,” he urged, actually pulling on Bakugou’s blanket like a little kid. With a sigh, the blonde moved to his feet. “We’ll see you guys there!” Kirishima called to the other two. He stacked their plates and trays on their respective piles haphazardly before bursting back out into the blizzard.

The little fucker chattered away about snowball fights and shit while they got ready. The entire time Bakugou was only half-listening, questioning his own damn sanity for ever agreeing to this shit. After going outside for the few minutes he had, all he wanted to do was bury himself in his blankets and stay warm. Only Kirishima’s incredulous “dude” broke him out of it.

“Is that all you’re wearing?” Dumb Hair asked.

Bakugou glanced down himself, at the jeans and hoodie he wore over a long-sleeved shirt. “Yeah? What of it?”

“You need gloves for a snowball fight, man,” Kirishima said. “And a hoodie’s not enough for below freezing weather.”

Bakugou’s gaze shifted into a defensive glare. “What are you, my mom? This is all I have, so yeah, it’s what I’m wearing since you’re so damn stubborn about dragging me out in that shit.” He jerked his chin toward the window where the snowfall was unrelenting.

“...you don’t have to go if you really don’t want to, Baku,” Kirishima said. “It’s cool. I’ll understand.”

“I’m already dressed so it doesn’t even matter,” Bakugou found himself saying, feeling a sudden stab of guilt at the mildly dejected look on Dumb Hair’s face.

“Alright. Then you need gloves. And probably at least one more layer…” Dumb Hair said absentmindedly, already shuffling through his dresser again. “I don’t have any other coats, but maybe this’ll fit you over that?” he asked. In sanding up he held out another hoodie—considerably thicker than the one Bakugou had on with a print of some cartoon he only vaguely recognized on the front of it.

“...you don’t have to lend me your stupid clothes, Dumb Hair,” muttered Bakugou.

“I know, but I don’t want you to get sick. ‘S no big deal anyway ‘cause it’s not like I’m gonna use it. Here.” He held it out further with a big, stupid, encouraging smile. That same brilliant fucking smile Bakugou had yet to figure out how to say no to.

So he swiped the damn hoodie from his roommate and yanked it over his head, doing everything humanly possible not to pay attention to how soft it was, and he sure as hell wasn’t paying attention to how it smelled. No. Fuck no.

As soon as it was on, Kirishima tossed him a folded pair of dark red gloves. Stiffly he tugged them on.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“No problem!”

It was stupid cold outside, and Bakugou’s combat boots weren’t exactly the most ideal thing to trek through the six inch snow with. It wasn’t his fault it never snowed like this so that he never needed legitimate snow boots… or any other shitty, uncomfortable winter attire. While his feet were numb from the cold within just a few minutes, Kirishima’s weird cartoon hoodie and gloves kept the rest of him warm enough, though he wasn’t about to outwardly admit he was grateful for it.

Kaminari, Sero, and Jirou were already on the track field when they got there, surrounded by some of the people Kaminari supposedly knew. Kirishima jogged all too happily down the shoveled stairs and onto the field, only realizing that Bakugou wasn't directly behind him when he made it to the bottom. He paused and waited for his roommate to catch up before bounding over to the others.

“Hey, guys!” Pikachu greeted. “‘Bout time you showed up.” Kirishima merely shrugged and Kaminari went on, “We just have a few more people who’re gonna join and then we can get started, since Mr. Yamada showed up to supervise right before you guys got here.”

The few more people Pikachu was talking about turned out to be none other than Deku and his herd of losers. Admittedly he was surprised to see the damn half-and-half bastard with them, knowing how dull he could be.

“Sweet, you guys made it! Okay, if everybody’s ready, we gotta lay down some rules,” Kaminari said. The group gathered around in a haphazard circle with hums of affirmation traveling around it. “Cool. So, when I was a kid we always said snowballs could only be about the size of your fist, and you’re only allowed to make three at a time—“

“I always only did it one at a time,” Sero said. “It’s not cool to hoard a bunch.”

“But it’s good to have backup,” countered Pikachu.

“How ‘bout two at a time?” Kirishima suggested.

A collective nod went around the group and Pikachu continued. “You’re not allowed to put anything in ‘em ‘cause that’s just mean. Same with aiming for the face or the head.”

“Or the junk!” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Well duh ,” someone else said.

“Anything else is fair game, though,” Jirou chimed in. When Bakugou’s eyes found her, she held a grin on her face—a smug as hell grin that automatically made her his first target.

“Yep! Oh, and you can’t get within ten feet of anybody you’re aiming at ‘cause point blank isn’t fair. Everybody ready?” Pikachu asked.

“Wait, so’s this shit like some kind of cold as balls game of dodgeball?” Bakugou asked.

“Nah. There’s no outs or anything. Just throwing snow at each other. Nobody wins or loses ‘cause it’s just s’posed to be fun,” Kirishima explained.

“...that’s fuckin’ lame,” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Soon after they got started. Everyone spread out around the field, finding what they thought were good spots before they were allowed to he begin and packed their two permitted snowballs (which was a stupid rule in Bakugou’s mind).

“Ready?” Pikachu called. “Go!”

Snowballs flew in every direction. Kids shrieked and ran, some tripping and falling. Bakugou watched a few faceplant right into the snow. As any and all balls of flying freezing shit flew in his direction, he dodged, only very nearly coming close to getting pelted with a few. While his primary aim was for Pikachu’s girlfriend, the only other person he saw able to dodge decently, he managed to hit several others—and that included his dumb-haired roommate.

A bit surprisingly, Kirishima was quick on his feet and pivoted to return fire. He wasn’t quick enough, though, and none of his snowballs came close to hitting Bakugou.

“C’mon, someone’s gotta hit Bakugou at least once!” a voice that sounded peculiarly like Mina’s shouted across the field several minutes into the game when Bakugou still had yet to be pelted.

And suddenly it was like a gang-up—at least half of the damn idiots on the field teaming up against him, and yet with so many hands he still managed to evade their fire.

“You bastards can’t aim for shit!” he shouted at them, pummeling his own haphazardly made snowballs right back. They promptly planted themselves against a shoulder and a knee. “My fuckin’ grandma can do better than you! Come at me like you mean it!”

Egging the losers on turned out to be half the fun. While he continued dodging through their poor aim and firing insults left and right in between firing snowballs, he watched their faces grow more competitive, more desperate to hit him, which only served to worsen their aim. One by one he was taking them out and it wasn’t long before he noticed Jirou had sidled up with him, doing the same thing, despite his earlier target being her .

“You sure this is your first snowball fight?” she asked breathlessly without ceasing moving, packing snowballs and hurling them at the others.

“Yup,” he told her, ducking under a couple more and then springing up to fire right back.

“Impressive.”

Bakugou didn’t realize when he’d stopped feeling the cold. His veins were full of adrenaline, his lungs working tirelessly as he moved with as much agility as possible. The field was a complete mess of snow; parts of the dormant grass beneath it were starting to show, and yet snowballs continued to fly through the air be they fresh snow or dirty from use and landing in mud. Most of the other idiots on the field were practically soaked from being pelted over and over with the snow while Bakugou and Jirou were the only ones still virtually dry.

But even Bakugou didn’t have infinite stamina, and soon he could feel the burn of his lungs from so much endless exertion. But damn , he wasn’t about to let one of these idiots hit him! It was too fucking fun watching their reddened faces growing more and more desperate and tired; several—including Kaminari and Deku—had stopped, leaning over with their hands on their knees to catch their breath. Fucking wimps.

Jirou was taken out first with a snowball planting itself against her right leg, though the one to throw it was a mystery to Bakugou—that was, until she scooped up another handful of snow and charged after some girl with long black hair Bakugou had never seen.

“One down, one to go!” Mina shouted. “C’mon guys, he’s getting tired!”

“Fuck off!” Bakugou yelled back. He’d been gradually backing himself toward one of the supply sheds in hopes of getting out of their range if even for just a second, but after Jirou’s defeat it felt more like he was being backed into a corner. Fuck .

And Dumb Hair was gaining on him; despite his red nose and huffing, he seemed one of the only ones who wasn’t slowing down. He sucked at dodging, though—most of the snow clinging to his coat was from Bakugou himself, but he never seemed to falter. Admittedly, Bakugou was impressed.

But not nearly enough to give in. He hurled two more snowballs in the other’s direction, dodging a few others in the process. As soon as he felt the hard surface of the utility shed against his back he slinked around to the back where there was a small plane of fresh snow. He was out of their range of fire, though he knew he only had seconds. Hastily he packed a few more balls and tucked them into his sleeve. His heart was pounding just knowing that idiot was on his tail, so he slid himself across the back wall of the shed, preparing to come out on the other side with a surprise attack.

But the second he rounded the corner, hand held high with a ball at the ready, a snowball smacked right into the center of his chest. He looked up to see none other than fucking Kirishima , standing there with a grin of triumph as he fist pumped the air.

“Hell yeah! I finally got you!” he shouted in victory.

“What the shit?!” Bakugou shouted, messily firing back. Dumb Hair promptly dodged, laughing. “How the fuck did you know I was over here, Dumb Hair?!” he growled, emptying his sleeve of his remaining snowballs in the idiot’s direction.

“I didn’t,” Kirishima laughed, “I just took a guess and I was right!”

“Guys, Kiri got Bakugou!” he heard someone shout from across the field. Whoops and hollers went around the crowd and just like that the air was void of any more snowballs.

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbled at his roommate as he brushed the snow from his chest.

“Aw c’mon, man! Don’t be a sore loser. You put up a good fight.”

“Whatever.”

“Seriously! I’ve never seen anybody dodge like that. Did you even get hit at all? Besides by me, I mean.”

“No. You guys are shit at aiming,” Bakugou told him, trudging through the snow back toward the rest of the group.

“‘S hard to believe you’ve never had a snowball fight before,” Kirishima said as he trailed along beside him.

“Got a lot of dodgeball experience. Guess that’s pretty much the same, but better since it’s not so damn cold.”

Dumb Hair’s hand slapped down on Bakugou’s shoulder. “Well color me impressed, man.”

“Thanks, Dumb Hair. I’ll get you back for that shit, though.”

With a half grin that weirdly made Bakugou’s insides flop—something he immediately made himself ignore—Kirishima held out his right hand. “You’re on, man.”

Bakugou planted his hand against the idiot’s and shook, a feeling of determination settling in his stomach.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Kirishima slept like a freaking baby that night, having fallen into such a restful slumber with a feeling of satisfaction held within him. He’d been through several snowball fights in his time, but never anything as big or intense as that one. It wasn’t even due to the fact that he’d been the one to finally hit Bakugou in the end—it was because he was proud to have talked his roommate into joining in on the fun in the first place, and for Bakugou’s first snowball fight (that Kirishima was admittedly still a bit skeptical about) to be so damn fun.

Their conversation about it before they’d settled in to sleep had Bakugou’s eyes shining with a kind of light Kirishima had never seen in them before. And he’d grinned more, even if it was cocky in the ‘I’m gonna kick your ass next time’ kind of way, or in pride that it had taken nearly twenty minutes for anyone to land a hit on him (according to Mr. Yamada, who’d been supervising the entire thing). Bakugou’s usually sort of petulant, abrasive attitude was there, as it always was, but he’d been a lot brighter somehow. And Kirishima was more than ecstatic to see him that way.

When Kirishima awoke, it was no surprise to find Bakugou still sound asleep. It was only a few minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off, and he lifted his phone to find a text message from Kaminari.

>School’s canceled again - power outage screwed a bunch of stuff up that they have to fix.

Before responding Kirishima peeked out the window. The thick layer of clouds still hung overhead but the snowfall had finally stopped. In the end, though, he eyeballed it to be nearly ten inches layering everything that hadn’t been shoveled or plowed.

>Cool. Meet me in the lounge , he responded.

After stretching, tying his hair back, and tossing his blanket messily over his pillows, Kirishima padded down the hall toward the lounge where Kaminari already was, playing a solo game of Super Smash Bros. He was unsurprisingly the only one there but didn’t so much as flinch or look up when Kirishima flopped onto the couch beside him.

“Mornin’, man,” he said. “You practicing to finally kick Jirou’s ass?”

“Yup. Need all the skill I can get.”

Sleepily, Kirishima chuckled. “You got a long way to go, my friend.”

Kaminari didn’t reply, so Kirishima settled in to watch. Honestly, Kaminari was pretty good when he was up against the NPCs, even on a harder difficulty. It was almost like his brain short-circuited when he was opposing his girlfriend and only once had he beat her, and that was only because she’d gotten a cramp in her hand from fighting nonstop for nearly four hours straight. He’d gotten lucky.

Eventually people started to trickle into the lounge, Sero being one of them as he sleepily planted himself on the chair to Kirishima’s left, and a while after that even Jirou and Mina showed up, having trekked all the way over from the girls’ lounge.

“Why don’t we ever hang out in our lounge?” Mina complained sleepily.

“We do,” Kaminari said.

“But like… in the morning,” she mumbled, slumping into a beanbag chair.

“G’morning to you, too,” he said. “And happy second day off.”

“Yeah, yeah, good morning,” she mumbled through a yawn. “We’re missing so much school this year, it’s so w—” Mina stopped short and sat up, her eyes widening and fixating directly on Kirishima. “What is that?” she practically gasped.

“Huh? What?” Kirishima mumbled, glancing down himself.

“That!” she squealed, suddenly very awake. She jumped up like her legs were made out of springs and bounded over to him, only allowing him so much time to reel as her fingers went after something on his chest. It was only then when he realized what she was talking about—the tag. The tag Bakugou had given him as a late birthday present. Her eyes were wide and full of curiosity as she studied it. “Where’d you get this?” she asked.

“Um…” Kirishima lifted a hand to scratch his head sheepishly. “Bakugou gave it to me,” he mumbled.

If possible, Mina’s eyes grew even larger. “Are you serious?!”

“Wait, what did Bakugou give you?” Kaminari asked without tearing his eyes from his Smash Bros battle.

“A freaking necklace!” Mina gushed.

“What?” asked Sero.

“Really?” Jirou mumbled, leaning around Kaminari to see.

“Yeah, guys,” Kirishima said with a shrug, though even he could feel a small smile tugging at his lips. “It was just a late birthday present. ‘S not a big deal.”

Carefully Mina placed the tag back where it hung naturally. “‘No big deal’ my butt,” she said, crossing her arms with a pointed stare. “It’s from Bakugou! Of course it’s a big deal! I told you he l—”

“Okay, okay, shh!” Kirishima hushed quickly, holding his hands up. “He’s my friend, Mina. You guys got me stuff. I get you guys stuff for your birthdays. It’s normal, and it doesn’t mean anything like that.” As much as I wish it did .

“But you also let him borrow your stuff, and he did ,” Sero pointed out.

“Yeah! What was with that yesterday?” Mina asked. “How come he wore your hoodie?”

Kirishima could see the smirk in Mina’s eyes and he scrambled to explain, “It’s because he didn’t have the proper stuff to wear in the snow! So I let him borrow my hoodie so he’d stay warm! Seriously!”

Mina scrutinized him for a moment more before she relaxed a bit. “Alright, that makes sense. But I’m still not convinced he doesn’t like you,” she said, that smirk finally snaking its way to her lips. She reached out and ruffled Kirishima’s hair, which he promptly swatted her hand away from, and skipped back over to her seat.

“So whatcha guys wanna do with our second day off?” Sero asked. “Another snowball fight?”

“Uuugh,” Mina moaned. “I’m still wiped out from yesterday. It’s like I went to P.E. anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda sore from yesterday, too,” Kirishima admitted. “Today should just be more low key.”

“Here here,” Jirou agreed from her spot, leaning heavily against Kaminari as she scrolled lazily through her phone.

“Aw, y’all are lame,” Sero joked. “What about…”

Their conversation faded to the background as Kirishima’s attention shifted from it to his phone that had vibrated with a message. An Instagram notification lit up the screen—a private message from none other than ‘fuck_off.’

>Where tf are you

The lounge, Kirishima replied swiftly. School’s canceled again .

“...just do a movie day or something,” Jirou was saying as Kirishima tuned back in.

“Oohh, a movie day sounds great,” Mina said, stretching herself out on the bean bag chair. “We should watch The Iron Giant !”

“That’s a kid’s movie,” Sero said.

“And the sky is blue,” Mina retaliated. “Wouldja like to point out any other obvious facts?”

“I’m pretty sure if we watch that, Denki will cry,” Jirou said.

“I will not!” Kaminari defended.

“Hey, s’okay, man,” Kirishima said, patting his shoulder. “What that giant does is super manly so I’d probably cry, too,” he admitted.

“See! It’s a good movie,” Mina said.

“Who the fuck is crying about what, now?” came a sleepy, muttering voice from behind them. Kirishima turned to find Bakugou, clearly still half asleep, shuffling toward them from the hallway and a smile easily found its way onto his face.

“Yo, Bakubro!” Sero piped up. Bakugou immediately sent him a glare at the nickname.

“Hey, man,” Kirishima said. “Guess we’re gonna watch some movies today and we were talking about how Kaminari’s gonna cry if we watch The Iron Giant .”

“Hey! You said you’d cry, too!” Kaminari grumbled.

“The fuck is The Iron Giant ?” mumbled Bakugou as he flopped into the beanbag chair next to Mina.

“Dude! What kind of sad freaking childhood did you have?” Sero asked. “No snowball fights, and now we learn you’ve never even seen one of the best kids’ movies ever made?”

“I didn’t watch many kids’ movies,” Bakugou muttered.

“Then what the hell did you watch ?” Jirou piped up.

“Lots of shit.”

“You’re so uncultured,” Mina sighed, shaking her head. “But I think that decides it! We’re gonna make Bakugou watch The Iron Giant .”

Despite Bakugou’s instant frown, he didn’t argue as Mina got up and went to the movie cabinet to fish out the DVD. As she did, Kaminari turned off the game console and asked, “Hey, are we gonna have breakfast, or…?”

“Alright, alright,” Mina said as she returned and tossed the movie onto the table. “Breakfast and then movie.”

“How ‘bout breakfast and movie? They restocked the lounge kitchen with cereal stuff, so we don’t even have to go all the way to the mess hall if we don’t wanna,” Kaminari said.

A collective agreement traveled around the group as they all lazily stood up and shuffled toward the kitchen. Bowls and spoons were retrieved and a variety of cereal boxes were pulled from the cabinet and piled onto the table in the middle of their lounge area. Much to Kirishima’s disappointment, everyone sat back where they’d been when they settled in to watch the movie, leaving him seated across the area from Bakugou.

The six of them went through two entire boxes of cereal and one whole gallon of milk by themselves as they ate and hadn’t even made it halfway through the movie by the time they were done. By then it was clear Bakugou was more interested in his phone than the movie despite Mina’s occasional nagging for him to pay attention. Kirishima took it as an opportunity and pulled up their Instagram messages.

>You sure you’re cool w/ watching this? he typed.

>Don’t really care, came Bakugou’s near instant reply.

>I can’t believe you’ve never seen it before

>I like action movies better

>Even when you were a kid?!

>Obviously

>So are you actually gonna cry

>Cuz imma get that shit on video

>Lol nah. I just like to make Kami feel better

>You guys are losers

>So you like hangin out w/ a buncha losers?

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirishima saw Bakugou stiffen in his seat and glanced up at him. Sure enough, his piercing red eyes were trained right on Kirishima in a halfhearted glare. Easily, he grinned and Bakugou’s eyes dropped back to his phone.

>Shut up

>

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Equations. Kirishima hated equations. And they were all starting to jumble together in his head and resemble some kind of word find with too many letters, parentheses, square roots, and exponents to keep track of. It’d only been about half an hour since he’d started studying and already a headache was beginning to pound between his temples from so many numbers and symbols. Honestly, he’d rather be reading Shakespeare.

As the snow melted—rather slowly, to his liking, instead of being there one day and gone the next as it usually was—talk of midterms started to surface in his classes. The semester was only a little over a month away from being over before the holiday break (and, as a result, holiday decorations and plans for the festival that was held every year after midterms were popping up all around campus). Unfortunately, Kirishima had very little time to be worrying about the holidays or even how he’d be getting home to spend the break with his family. He was too damn busy studying, and stressing over the tests—math especially.

“If you sigh one more fucking time I’m gonna duct tape your mouth shut.”

Kirishima was broken out of his babbling thoughts that totally weren’t about the trigonometry he was supposed to be focusing on by the threat, and he looked up to Bakugou, who was glaring at him from the other side of the room. Bakugou, too, had his math homework spread out around him, a pencil held in his fist, and one of the deepest, most irritated frowns Kirishima had seen settled on his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Math is just… torture, I think.” He punctuated the sentence with a dry, humorless chuckle.

“I know, and your shitty sighing is only making it harder,” muttered the other.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it, to be honest,” Kirishima said as he sat back and adjusted his headband a bit. “What’re you working on, anyway?”

“Some bullshit with triangles and right angles and shit.”

“...is it trig?”

“Yeah. That shit. I dunno.”

“Ah man. I learned that freshman year, but I almost failed the course I learned it in and I barely remember it, or I’d help you.”

“Thanks I guess. Remedial math is bullshit since I have to learn everything late,” Bakugou grumbled, leaning back against his pillows. “The fuck kinda shit is that?” he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of Kirishima’s (very messy) notes.

“Algebra. Like, scary algebra with polynomials and all that.”

“...what the fuck is a polynoma… whatever?”

All Kirishima could do was hold up his notebook and point, apathetically, to the problem he was working out. Bakugou leaned toward him and squinted at it. “Fucking gross,” he muttered. “But at least it’s not some bullshit geography.”

Kirishima sat up straighter, blinking at his roommate. “...what?”

“What? I said it’s bullshit,” Bakugou huffed.

“But… you said geography.”

“That’s what it’s fucking called.”

A smile cracked at the corner of Kirishima’s mouth, a bubble of amusement that temporarily overshadowed the tension of stress growing in his chest. “Dude, I think you mean geometry.”

“Isn’t it the same fucking thing?”

“No!” An inevitable laugh escaped. “Geometry is the shapes and stuff like that. Geography is like, maps, and stuff about topography and all that.”

Bakugou’s head tilted forward. “Stuff about maps and what?”

But Kirishima was already taken over by his laughter. It was such a silly thing to be suddenly borderline hysterical about, but it was so damn cute that Bakugou got the two mixed up. Not even the hurling of Bakugou’s stress ball directly at his chest could stop his chortles.

“Stop fucking laughing, Dumb Hair!” grumbled Bakugou, fingers curled as he looked for something else to throw.

“Sorry, sorry!” Kirishima chuckled, picking the ball up from his lap. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard somebody get those mixed up before.”

“...whatever. Gimme my ball back.”

Kirishima tossed the ball back, and Bakugou proceeded to habitually toss it up and down frustratedly, hitting the ceiling nearly every time and letting it audibly snap back into his palm. Kirishima took that as his cue to quietly go back to his studying—or attempt to, anyway. He only made it halfway through another problem before Bakugou stood up and tugged his attention away from it again.

“Let’s just go get dinner,” he muttered and tossed the ball onto his bed before moving to stuff his feet into his boots.

“Aye aye, Bakubro,” Kirishima said and jumped up to follow.

“Hmph. What’s with that nickname, anyway?”

“You don’t like it?”

Bakugou shrugged after tugging his hoodie on. “...dunno. It was weird when Sero said it.”

“Oh. Alright then. Sorry, man.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Dumb Hair,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they started down the hall. Kirishima couldn’t help noticing he kept his eyes cut to the right, the side Kirishima conveniently wasn’t on, and his shoulders hunched more than usual.

“So… you’re cool with me calling you that, then?”

“...yeah. Whatever, I guess.”

“Hey, ‘s only fair ‘cause you have a nickname for me,” Kirishima pointed out.

“I said whatever, Dumb Hair.”

With a laugh, Kirishima bumped shoulders with his roommate before holding the door open for him.

As expected, the night air was almost freezing, making for an even grumpier Bakugou as they shuffled out into it. Not many people were hanging around or even walking through campus, which only alerted Kirishima to how late it was. The mess hall was nearly about to close, he realized upon checking his phone, so he was glad Bakugou decided to get dinner when he did. Fortunately, that also meant that there weren’t many people hanging around eating, either, and there was no line to wait in to get their food. In fact, the only other soul there aside from the kitchen staff was Midoriya, sitting solitarily at his usual table and hunched over a notebook, squinting in concentration as he held the eraser of his pencil to his mouth.

“Why the fuck is he always here?” grumbled Bakugou.

“You’re not really that bothered by him, are you?” Kirishima asked.

“No. He’s just a huge fucking nerd.”

Kirishima blinked at his roommate a few times, confused as to what that had anything to do with Midoriya’s presence in the mess hall. Though, with Bakugou, the usage of the word ‘nerd’ could mean any number of things.

“Then… you won’t be mad if I go say hi?”

“Why the fuck would I be mad, idiot?”

“Just makin’ sure,” Kirishima said with a grin. With his bowl of mac and cheese, he sauntered over to the freckled kid who was concentrating so hard on his book he wasn’t aware of Kirishima’s approach until he said, “Hey, Midoriya.”

“What?” Midoriya mumbled, jerking upright. “Oh, hey Kirishima! Sorry, I didn’t even hear you approach.” A small, evidently tired smile formed its way on his face.

“No worries. Whatcha doin’?” Kirishima slid into the seat across from him as Bakugou, still scowling, joined them.

“Hey, Kacchan. Um, I’m just studying. Physics is actually pretty hard, so I guess I was concentrating so hard that I lost track of time,” Midoriya said sheepishly. “How come you guys are here so late?”

“Same problem… lost track of time studying for math, which we both kinda suck at,” Kirishima explained. “Midterms are freakin’ stressful.”

“Yeah? What kind of math?”

Kirishima’s first instinct was to say ‘geography,’ and his eyes mistakenly cut to Bakugou who had clearly read his mind and was giving him a look that clearly said, ‘Tell him and I’ll kill you.’ Still, the amusement was present when he answered truthfully. “Baku’s working on trig and I got algebra. ‘S probably like the ABCs to you, though, huh?”

“Oh, uhm…” Midoriya mumbled, and Kirishima swore he saw a confused grin flash across his round face for a split second, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. “That’s not too bad for me, but that’s pretty normal. I mean, I’m in AP classes so I learned that stuff a couple years ago.”

“Hey, don’t rub it in, man,” Kirishima joked.

“Ya damn nerd,” grumbled Bakugou under his breath.

Kirishima promptly sent an elbow in his direction. “Don’t be mean, dude. ‘S not a bad thing to be super smart.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Nah, he’s right,” Midoriya admitted with a laugh. “Besides, I’m used to all the insults from Kacchan and I know he doesn’t really mean them.”

“How the fuck do you—”

Again Kirishima’s elbow jabbed him softly in the ribs, shutting him up and earning one of his death glares.

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbled before stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth.

“Um, yeah…” Midoriya said quietly. “Anyway, I really wasn’t trying to rub anything in. I was just going to offer to help you guys study if you wanted. I have a pretty good understanding of both trig and algebra, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Really?” Kirishima asked, perking up. “You’d do that?”

“Sure, Kirishima. I don’t mind. Other than focusing on physics, I don’t have much other studying I have left to do. I’ve pretty much got everything else down, so if you needed some help I’d be willing.”

“I don’t need your damn help, dweeb,” Bakugou muttered.

“Hey, come on, man,” Kirishima said. “He’s offering! And you know you do need his help or you wouldn’t have been so frustrated with your homework earlier.”

“Who said I can’t fucking figure it out on my own? I can just Google it or whatever.”

“Or you can accept the help Midoriya is kindly offering you so you can go at your own pace and actually ask questions,” reasoned Kirishima. “You know you gotta pass, man.”

With those narrow eyes, Bakugou’s gaze finally met Kirishima’s, who gave him an encouraging smile. In the next instant, Bakugou was sighing heavily and stabbing grumpily through his food. “Fine,” he muttered. “Whatever.”

“Sweet. So, when are you available?” he asked, turning back to Midoriya who looked nothing short of shocked. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh!” Midoriya shook himself. “Nothing. I’m free any time after school, but I… kinda save the weekends to spend some time with Todoroki. So any weekday is cool, unless that doesn’t work for you…”

“Nah, ‘s good. That’s pretty much when we’ve been studying, too. Ya wanna do it in our room, or yours?”

“How about the library? We can utilize the big tables and computers in there if we need, and the librarians are always really good about keeping it quiet during midterms and finals while people are studying. I prefer to sit at a table since it’s not so hard on my back.”

“Sounds good. Cool with you, Bakubro?”

“Sure, whatever,” was the response Kirishima was met with.

“Awesome. So we’ll meet tomorrow after eighth period, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Midoriya agreed.

Midoriya left shortly after that, gathering the books he’d been using to his chest and standing up stiffly. Kirishima was sure to thank him and send him off with a fist bump before it was merely the two of them left to finish their dinners.

“Sorry if I kinda pressured you into that, man. You could’ve said no and I could’ve just studied with Midoriya by myself,” Kirishima told his roommate once the other was gone. Of course, he didn’t want to study with just Midoriya. Or rather, he wanted to study with Bakugou, but he’d have definitely understood if Bakugou was against it.

“I know, Dumb Hair.”

“...so, you really are cool with coming along?”

“How many damn times are you gonna ask me? Yes. Now shut up so I can finish eating.”

Kirishima only grinned.

⚜️

Kirishima wasn’t sure how much more his heart could take of the overwhelmingly nervous, giddy feeling he had whenever he sent Bakugou memes. Well, flirty memes, anyway… memes that he wasn’t even sure could be considered ‘memes,’ rather than just flirty photos. ‘Memes’ his friends were still sending him to send to Bakugou whenever they came across them. Some of them were… a little too much, a little too suggestive, even for him, and he wasn’t nearly ready to be that risky yet—if he’d ever be, even with everyone insisting that there was ‘no way Bakugou doesn’t like you back, man’ (Sero’s words, in that rational, matter-of-fact voice of his that he used when he wasn’t gossipping his brains out). Kirishima couldn’t decide if he was starting to believe them because they were so insistent upon it or if he actually, truly believed that Bakugou’s behavior around him was, well, flirty as well—in Bakugou’s… own, unique way, anyway. All he knew was that all he could do was keep trying.

And try he did, despite the jumbled mess of confusion he consistently found himself in.

The giddy feeling, he had to admit, was somehow addicting. Tapping the little blue ‘send’ button always had his heart stuttering, his lip trapped between his teeth, and his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation, especially when it came to the increasingly flirty memes/pictures/whatever he was sending of late. Call him stubborn, but even that wasn’t enough to get him to give up, no matter how suggestive or cheesy they were, like this silly t-shirt design:

(see it here)

Cat memes, being some of Kirishima’s favorites, were amongst those sent to his roommate often.

(see it here)

>I feel like this is something you would say

>lmfao probably

Sometimes Kirishima would be too nervous to the point of damn near stomach pains that he’d send something and two seconds later say something else, almost like he was trying to cover it up.

(see it here)

>How did someone get that dog to wear glasses??

It’d been a minute before Bakugou responded—in fact, it’d taken a whole class period, throughout which Kirishima could hardly concentrate (which figured, because it was math).

>why am I friends with such a loser?

>Damn love you too, man. Lmao

>fuck you

>haha ♥

The riskier or more suggestive the messages got, the more on edge Kirishima was. But, much to his relief (and admittedly, confusion), Bakugou never responded badly . Mostly, he merely liked the message and moved on, be it without a reply or sending him something (that definitely wasn’t flirty—at least not in the more obvious way that Kirishima’s messages were) back.

Occasionally, though, he’d respond with a ‘you’re dumb’ or the eye rolling emoji. Once—very nearly giving Kirishima a heart attack—he’d ‘accidentally’ tapped the silly little heart that was in place of the ‘send’ icon before a message was typed, but as soon as Kirishima had clicked on the message it was gone. Bakugou’s following message proved that he was pretending it never happened.

Kirishima was really, really doing his best not to overthink any of it when he met his roommate outside their usual entrance to the boys’ dorm to walk to the library together where they were supposed to meet Midoriya for studying. But that was next to impossible when Bakugou, who was already standing there waiting when he showed up, greeted him first—which is something that almost never happened.

“Hey, loser,” he said casually, peculiarly calm despite the fact that they were about to go study math, with Midoriya.

The smile Kirishima always found himself with around his roommate easily made its way across his face. “Yo, Bakubro. Ready to go?”

“The fuck’s with all the rhymes?”

A laugh bubbled up. “I dunno,” he responded, and when he realized that rhymed, too, a fit of chortles took him over for a moment as they started toward the library.

“Fuck, you’re dumb,” muttered the other, but even he had somewhat of a grin on his face that didn’t make it past Kirishima, who, still laughing, playfully bumped into him.

To no surprise, Midoriya was already waiting for them at one of the tables in the far corner of the library near the windows with a few books and a notebook in front of him, his hand darting across the paper with a pencil. Once again he was oblivious to their approach until Kirishima was greeting him.

“Hey, man.”

“Oh, hey!” he said, sitting up. “I was wondering where you guys were. Have a seat.”

“Dumb Hair took forever to get out of class,” Bakugou grumbled as they slid into adjacent seats across the table from Midoriya.

Midoriya blinked at him. “‘Dumb Hair’...?” he mumbled, bewildered.

“‘S just Baku’s nickname for me,” Kirishima spoke up.

“I see,” mumbled Midoriya with a slight laugh. “Anyway, I found some books I thought might be useful for your subjects.” He pushed a few of said books across the table, their titles each having something to do with trig or algebra. One of them, however, was solely about the pythagorean theorem, and Kirishima couldn’t help wondering how someone wrote an entire book about just that one little equation.

Midoriya got them started in no time, but only ten minutes in, Kirishima found it hard to decide if studying with him was easier or just more confusing than trying to study on his own. The stupid textbooks only confused him more, and he consistently pressed the wrong buttons on the calculator. Midoriya was almost disturbingly patient with them—both of them, even with Bakugou’s growled irritations at not only the material but Midoriya himself—and Kirishima was already planning to buy him lunch over a weekend because of it.

“Ugh,” Kirishima found himself groaning a while later, another headache beginning to pound between his temples as he slumped pitifully against the table. “How do people understand this enough to make careers and shit out of it?”

“Not everybody has a knack for everything,” Midoriya pointed out with a light grin—one Kirishima couldn’t decide if he detected mild irritation in or not.

“Yeah, yeah…” he sighed. “Sorry, man. I’m sorta gettin’ it, but all the letters and numbers mixed together are givin’ me a headache.” And , he added internally , it doesn’t help that one of the biggest distractions ever is sitting right next to me .

“Why the fuck can’t you just use a tape measure for this shit?” Bakugou grumbled, finally throwing his pencil down after reworking through one of the problems for the third time. “And I’m not gonna be some shitty architect, so I’m not gonna need this bullshit. Ever.”

“It’s cool, guys. I gotta use the restroom anyway, so we can take a break,” Midoriya told them.

“‘Kay,” Kirishima said as he stood up and headed toward the main entrance.

Bakugou seemed to immediately deflate when he was gone and leaned back in his chair. “Fuck math,” he huffed.

“Agreed,” Kirishima mumbled. “But just one more semester, and then we’ll be done.”

“That’s a whole fucking semester ,” Bakugou said.

“Maybe it’ll be easier. Who knows?”

“Hmph,” was all Bakugou mumbled as he picked up his pencil again, leaned his head back, and started attempting to balance it on the tip of his nose. Kirishima only watched him for a moment before habitually tugging out his phone and tapping the Instagram icon midway through a yawn. It was quiet a while save for the few times Bakugou accidentally dropped the pencil, cursed under his breath as he leaned over to pick it up, and then continued to attempt the balancing act.

“Hey look, I found us some motivation,” Kirishima said a moment later.

“What?”

Kirishima tilted the phone toward Bakugou, who looked down and caught the pencil as it fell from his face.

(see it here)

Bakugou huffed lightly. “Sure, ‘cept you don’t hate anybody.”

“Hm, yeah. True.” He continued to scroll for a moment before saying, “I guess this is more like me.” Again he tilted the phone.

(see it here)

In typical Bakugou fashion, he snorted. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to have a box of tissues ready after you do your math midterm.”

Laughing lightly Kirishima responded, “Thanks. It’s good to know you’re lookin’ out for me.”

“That’s not what I said, I just don’t want gross ass snot all over the place.”

“Hey, how do you even know if I snot when I cry?” Kirishima playfully defended.

“Everybody snots when they cry, dumbfuck.”

“Even you?”

“I don’t cry.”

“...no, but you do get geography and geometry mixed up,” Kirishima joked quietly, pretending to avert his attention back to his phone.

“Oh my fucking god, you are never gonna let me live that shit down, are you?” Bakugou griped, practically smacking his pencil back down on the table. Kirishima was already laughing inevitably, that same feeling of giddy amusement rising up the way it had every time he’d teased Bakugou about the mix up since it happened.

“Sorry, dude! I just can’t get over it,” Kirishima managed past his chortles, his eyes watering enough to the point where he barely saw it when Bakugou pushed his chair back and lifted a leg to plant his foot against the corner of Kirishima’s chair.

“Want me to give you something else you can’t get over?” he said, pushing so Kirishima’s chair tilted back. He reeled, scrambling to grab the table to keep himself from falling backward. He was only vaguely aware of Midoriya shuffling back up to their table.

“Whoa, okay, okay!” Kirishima gasped, though his mirth had hardly subsided. “I give!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Bakugou huffed with a semi-snarky grin as he let Kirishima’s chair fall back into its natural position—emphasis on fall . Kirishima swore it rattled his brain a little.

“What did I miss?” Midoriya questioned as he slid back into his seat, setting down an armful of vending machine snacks in the process.

“I was just making fun of Bakugou for—“ Kirishima’s words were cut off when an elbow met his ribs—not too hard, but hard enough to shut him up. “Ahh, never mind,” he mumbled, trying—and failing—to suppress his grin.

“Uh… alright,” Midoriya said. “I brought some snacks if you’re interested.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Kirishima said, graciously accepting a package of crackers. Bakugou, too, snatched a pack of Oreos and tore them open without saying anything, prompting Kirishima to nudge him under the table with his knee.

“Fucking what, Dumb Hair?” he hissed.

“Dude. Say thank you.”

Bakugou sighed around the cookie he’d already stuffed in his mouth—whole. “Yeah, whatever, thanks,” he muttered.

He’s so hopeless , Kirishima thought, unaware of the smile shining in his eyes.

⚜️

In the end, Kirishima did feel better about his skills at polynomials after spending nearly every day after school in the library with Midoriya. Bakugou didn’t show every time, much to his conflicting disappointment and relief that he wasn’t always bogged down a bit by such a huge distraction. On Saturday, having decided it should be a day off from studying after a week of non stop cramming, he made sure to text Midoriya and offer compensation while beside him in the lounge, Bakugou and Sero duked it out on Super Smash Bros.

>Hey man! Thanks for helping us study. You free this weekend? I’ll buy you lunch as a thank you

>No problem, but you don’t have to do that. It was no trouble at all

>Yeah but I’m probably gonna pass my midterm now so I wanna make it up to you :D

>Really, it’s okay :) That’s what friends are for.

>You sure?

>Absolutely

>Ok. Well if you change your mind, let me know

>Sure :)

Kirishima had gone back to watching his friends battle and reveling a little in how damn fast his roommate’s thumbs smashed the buttons when his phone vibrated only a few minutes later. He lifted it to find it was another message from Midoriya.

>Um, hey. Can I ask you a question?

>Sure, what’s up?

>I apologize if this is too intrusive, and please don’t feel obligated to answer… but is there something between you and Kacchan?

Kirishima’s heart immediately jumped into his throat, and he typed back with a certain amount of skepticism.

> What do you mean exactly?

>Nothing bad! It’s just that he sort of acts differently around you, and you two seem really close, which is admittedly a bit odd for him.

Instinctively, in a way he wasn’t entirely aware of, Kirishima angled himself so that it wouldn’t be easy for Bakugou to see the screen of his phone as he typed his reply.

>How so?

>He’s just not the type to have close friends, at least not as long as I’ve known him. And he seemed a lot calmer around you. I noticed him smiling quite a bit, too, and in your direction. It somehow seemed like… more than just that, if you know what I mean..

By then Kirishima swore his heart was about to pound right through his ribs and his throat had grown thick. While he was still contemplating a reply, another message came through.

>I’m not trying to suggest anything, I swear! I was just curious about the behavior, but it’s hard to ask him about stuff like that. Please don’t think I’m trying to assume anything or put any sort of pressure on you. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.

>You’re good man! But wow, that’s crazy cuz I never noticed anything like that about him. But ive only known him since September, so its hard to say

>Sorry if I’ve been too presumptuous. I’m glad you guys seem to be such good friends :)

>Nah really, you’re fine :D & me too.

The conversation came to an end there, but Kirishima’s heart didn’t so much as slow down. For fear that his uneasiness showed on his face, he made an excuse about needing to use the restroom and slipped soundlessly out of the lounge to head right back to his room long enough to calm himself down, his mind reeling the whole way.

Bakugou did act differently around him. He did, and Kirishima had noticed it. He’d just… denied it, for fear of getting his hopes up, for fear of being let down in the end or moving too fast and making things awkward with his roommate. But… hearing it from Midoriya , the person who’d known Bakugou since they were little kids… was seriously eye-opening, and he really didn’t know what to make of it.

Kirishima chewed his lip as he read over Midoriya’s text messages a few more times, letting the words sink in and remembering every time his friends—Mina especially—had insisted that the feeling was mutual on Bakugou’s end. The only coherent thought in the mess that was in his head was ‘ Holy shit.’

Chapter Text

Kirishima

The day of midterms was a mess. Kirishima was already on the verge of a headache by the middle of third period, and he hadn’t even made it to math to take that exam yet. Lunch, he hoped, would restore some of the energy he’d lost in the first couple of classes. He was more than looking forward to gulping down an entire bottle of Dr. Pepper to give him the extra boost he needed, too, to make up for losing sleep due to nerves and, well, thinking too much . He was pretty sure he hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly two in the morning, resulting in the loss of at least three hours of sleep.

Fortunately his first few finals weren’t too bad. He was pretty good at remembering major events in history, which was the bulk of that midterm, and all his Language Arts teacher had the class do was reread over the essays they’d been working on for the past month one more time before turning them in and then allowing them extra study time for any other midterms while she played a quiet movie in the background and worked at her desk. Art was, of course, pretty damn easy for him too, despite all of the distractions floating around the back of his mind. One thing was for certain—he couldn’t wait to be done with all these tests and spend the next day enjoying the Winter Holiday festival before he had to pack and get ready to go home for the break.

Yet somehow even that left him preoccupied with conflict. A part of him—a huge part, at that—was more than ecstatic to get home and see his parents again after more than four months. Christmas wasn’t his favorite holiday, but Kirishima always loved spending time with his family. On the other hand, it meant going without seeing his friends—Bakugou especially—for just over three weeks. It was such a silly thing to be upset about; it wasn’t like he wouldn’t see them in January the minute they got back, or like he didn’t have another entire semester to spend with them. Plus, he had no plans to stop messaging Bakugou and sending him memes just because of the break…

But then there was the whole matter of Midoriya’s text message. It had been over a week ago, but of course it hadn’t ever slipped Kirishima’s mind for more than a second. He’d purposely neglected telling his friends about it, though, and played off any of his ‘odd behavior’ on midterms stress, which they seemed to buy… for a while.

Bakugou didn’t join them for lunch that day because he’d been in his last meeting of the semester with Mr. Aizawa, so he said in a message that was waiting on Kirishima’s phone when he dragged his feet out of fifth period to head to the mess hall. So, of course, that was when the rest of his friends took the opportunity to interrogate him.

“What’s been going on with you, man?” Sero asked once they were all seated.

“Whattaya mean?” responded Kirishima without making eye contact. “I already told you I’m just super stressed about all these tests.”

“Yeah, but you already told us you felt more confident after you spent last week studying with Midoriya,” Mina pointed out. “Plus, it’s not like you to stress this much.”

“So there’s gotta be somethin’ you’re not telling us,” Sero said.

Hesitantly, Kirishima pushed his spaghetti around his plate. “...alright, you got me. But if I tell you, you gotta promise not to freak out on me, ‘kay?”

“That depends—” Mina began, but was promptly nudged under the table by Jirou, who said, “Is it safe to assume it’s about Bakugou?”

Kirishima nodded as he slid out his phone and navigated his way to his text conversation with Midoriya. Wordlessly he passed the device over to Mina first, who he swore read the whole thing without blinking once. Jirou read it over her shoulder. The second they finished was obvious, because Mina’s big, amber eyes widened to the size of the moon and she sucked in a lungful of air, but before she could start squealing, as the rest of them knew she would, Jirou yanked the phone from her hand and curled an arm around her head to cover her mouth. Jirou single-handedly worked on calming her down while Kaminari read the messages and then passed the phone to Sero.

“Dude,” Sero deadpanned as soon as he was done. “When are you gonna stop being in denial?”

“It’s not denial!” Kirishima denied—and then immediately realized the irony of his words. “I’m just trying not to get my hopes up,” he continued weakly.

“We’ve been over this, man,” Kaminari said.

“Everybody sees it but you two,” Jirou added, shaking her head with a small, sly grin. “Feels like something right out of a movie.”

“It does!” Mina gushed. “Come on, Kiri! You should just ask him out already. There’s no way he won’t say yes.”

“But—”

“If Midoriya sees that there’s somethin’ going on between you guys, and he doesn’t hang around both of you that often, and he’s known Bakugou since they were little kids, I don’t think you have much reason to think he doesn’t like you,” Kaminari pointed out.

“But what if he just sees me as a friend?” Kirishima mumbled, going back to avoiding eye contact and staring down his spaghetti.

The four of them—Mina and Jirou especially—exchanged a look . “I don’t know anybody who flirts with their friends, Mina. Do you?” Jirou asked.

“Nope. Not at all.”

“ What ?!” Kirishima practically spat past a bite of food. “He doesn’t flirt—”

“Well, ‘s kinda hard to tell,” Sero interrupted. “Since y’know, flirting is usually cute and fluffy but Bakugou’s super, like, aggressive and all that.”

“Aw man. Am I the only rational one around here?” mumbled Kirishima. “‘S like you guys want him to like me so you see stuff that’s not there.”

“Do you not want him to like you?” Mina asked.

“Of—of course I do!” he sputtered. “But I’m not gonna try to see stuff that isn’t there just to make myself believe it.”

The group fell silent for a moment, giving Kirishima the opportunity to start sucking down his Dr. Pepper. Man he was exhausted, and these guys going on about insisting that his feelings for Bakugou were mutual wasn’t helping. Already he regretted showing them those text messages.

“I guess I can see some self-fulfilling prophecy here,” Jirou was the one to murmur.

“What does that mean?” Mina mumbled.

“A self-fulfilling prophecy is when you believe something and then act in accordance with that belief whether reality supports it or not.”

“Ohhh.” The girl’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Hmm. Maybe you’re right? But I don’t wanna give up hope on Kiri’s happiness.”

At that, Kirishima couldn’t help but chuckle. “C’mon, guys, ‘s not like if nothing ever happens with these silly feelings I have I’ll never be happy again,” he said.

“I know, but I do want him to like you back! You guys are already such good friends and we all see how happy he makes you,” she said hopefully.

“Plus, you haven’t liked anyone this much for this long in… uh, ever,” Kaminari interjected.

“And he obviously really likes your memes,” Sero said. “‘Cause he sends them back.”

“And you can’t deny that since Midoriya noticed something, there’s nothing.”

“I know, I know,” Kirishima told them. “Maybe… we’ll see what happens after the break. Just ‘cause I don’t wanna get my hopes up doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. Right now I just wanna focus on passing my midterms and then having fun at the festival tomorrow before we go home for three weeks. I just wanna do all this at my own pace, y’know?”

A small chorus of agreements went around the other four, as well as apologies, which he easily brushed off. Their conversation from then on drifted over midterms and toward the festival, and while Kirishima was grateful to have the spotlight off of him and his crush again, the whole thing hung around incessantly in the background of his thoughts.

⚜️

Math, inevitably and unsurprisingly, was the absolute worst. And of course all Kirishima could seem to think of were the dozens upon dozens of math memes he had saved on his phone—all of the ones he and Bakugou had been exchanging during their cramming.

If only there were memes about these equations… he thought glumly, scratching the eraser end of his pencil against his temple. All that did was bring to mind that weird equation where, if you covered the top half, it spelled out ‘I love you.’ Mina or Sero would definitely tell me to send that to Bakugou…

Kirishima physically shook himself and sucked in a deep, quiet breath. Now was not the time to be distracted. He had plenty of time for that over the next three weeks. With as much determination as he could muster, he put pencil back to paper.

⚜️

> Guys! Meet in the game room ASAP

Kirishima read the group text from Kaminari on his way back to the dorm after his eighth period midterm was over and continued on his small detour to his room to drop off his backpack.

“Aw, don’t tell me you skipped out on your last test!” he said as soon as he entered the room to find Bakugou lying across his bed, attention, typically, on his phone.

“Fuck no. You’re just a slow walker,” he said, sitting up. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Good,” Kirishima said in relief, dropping his backpack in its usual spot. “Kami wants us all to meet in the game room as soon as possible for some reason. You comin’?”

“Sure,” Bakugou mumbled.

For the first time in weeks Kirishima elected to take his skateboard since the sidewalks were finally clear. Usually he’d leave it so he could walk with Bakugou, but his board hadn’t been used in so long and he admittedly felt bad for leaving it in the closet for so long, especially after working so hard to make it himself. He made sure to keep a good pace with his roommate, circling around him when he’d gone too fast.

“Hey, so… are you still planning on staying for the festival tomorrow?” he asked Bakugou, remembering the announcement made at the end of lunch. Mr. Aizawa had let them know they were free to go for the break as soon as their last midterm was complete, something that had been undecided up until then.

“Dunno. Probably, since my mom won’t wanna be bothered to come get me early.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’re s’posed to come on Friday and she’s probably got all this shit planned around it that she won’t wanna move around just to make the trip.”

“Gotcha.”

“You?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m staying.”

The only one of their group who was already in the game room when the two of them arrived was Kaminari, occupying the couch in the corner. Mina was practically right behind Kirishima and Bakugou, and it only took Sero another few minutes to show up after her.

Kaminari’s ‘emergency’ meeting turned out to be that he needed help planning something to surprise Jirou for the next day’s festival and was slightly panicking about whether she was still planning to attend now that it was announced that they were allowed to leave a day early. She was; in fact, it turned out none of them had plans to go home early, which resulted in the planning of Kami’s surprise for Jirou and an agreement to all meet up somewhere in the festival afterward (as if they wouldn’t have anyway, Kirishima couldn’t help but think).

Once the plan was in place, Jirou eventually showed up and the group took turns trying to beat Bakugou at pool for the remainder of the evening. The only one who came even moderately close to catching up to him was Kirishima, but even he couldn’t figure out quite how to keep the cue ball from sinking.

The six of them went through the usual motions of getting dinner together, having their casual banter in which Bakugou collectively called them ‘idiots’ or ‘morons’ more than once before they broke off and headed in for the night, too worn out from a day of tests to do much of anything else. Kirishima lost count of how many times he’d yawned throughout dinner and on the way back to the door until it got to the point where he was apologizing, especially when the yawns spread to Bakugou. It wasn’t long before they both decided to turn in despite the relatively early time. Kirishima’s mind was somehow still spinning with everything that’d followed him throughout the day and only stopped when he finally fell into a comfortable sleep.

⚜️

The Winter Festival wasn’t much different from the Halloween party, what with game booths being set up around campus, a party/dance taking place in the gym, and different holiday-themed activities in the classrooms of the main school building. Everything was already in full swing by the time Kirishima and Bakugou wandered out of their room together at nearly noon, headed to meet the rest of the group who had clearly been up for a while.

“What the hell took you guys so long?” Kaminari asked when they finally showed up just outside the gym. By the light in his eyes and the subtle smile on Jirou’s face, who had her arm linked through his, it was evident he’d already given her the surprise of two concert tickets to a band she really liked (the idea courtesy of Mina, who’d heard of the show a few weeks prior).

“Just woke up,” Kirishima told him with a slight laugh.

“It’s noon!” Mina said.

“We were tired,” Bakugou deadpanned. “You guys are the abnormal ones getting up so fucking early.”

“Kiri never sleeps ‘til noon,” Sero said.

Kirishima shrugged. “I was sleepy.”

“Orrr, were you two—” Mina started, a sly grin forming, only to be nudged by Sero to shut her up. “Hey, I was kidding!” she defended quickly.

“...fucking weird asses,” muttered Bakugou before yawning.

“Let’s go play some games,” Kaminari suggested.

“You guys go ahead,” Kirishima urged. “I think Bakubro and I are gonna go see what we can scrounge up for breakfast. Er… lunch, I guess. We’ll meet up after that.”

At the nickname, Kaminari snickered. “Okie dokes,” he said.

“What?” Jirou was asking as the four of them split off from Bakugou and Kirishima, who headed toward the mess hall.

“Remind me why the fuck I hang out with those losers again,” sighed Bakugou.

“‘Cause they’re your friends, man,” Kirishima said. “I know you like ‘em.”

“Hmph. Whatever. Don’t know what the fuck ‘okie dokes’ means, though.”

At the sound of those words passing Bakugou’s lips, Kirishima couldn’t help but laugh. “Dude, don’t say that,” he managed past his chortles.

“I don’t. I’m not a loser like Pikachu.”

“Nah, it just sounds really weird in your voice.” Kirishima passed a plate to Bakugou before they headed down the buffet.

“It sounds fucking weird in anyone’s voice.”

“Hm. Touche, I guess.”

The two fell into silence as they filled their plates and moved to sit at a table. Kirishima was happy to quickly dig into his food, but it was only then when everything that had been bugging him the previous day rushed forward again and he could physically feel his shoulders slumping a bit. To his mild surprise, it didn’t go unnoticed by his roommate, either.

“Fuck’s up with you?” he mumbled around a bite of sandwich.

“Nothin’,” Kirishima told him. “Just worried about my test scores and stuff. Y’know.”

“No one looks that fucking dejected about shitty test scores,” Bakugou told him.

“Whattaya mean by ‘dejected’?”

“Dunno. You look like someone just deflated you like a balloon or someshit.” He stuffed another bite of sandwich in, like he was embarrassed by his own words, and punctuated it with a halfhearted shrug. Kirishima let out a small laugh, but said nothing more, leaving Bakugou to speak up again. “So are you gonna tell me or what?”

“Huh? Oh. Um, ‘s not that big of a deal.”

“Just fucking tell me, you idiot,” huffed Bakugou impatiently.

“Okay, okay! I’m… I’m just not all that great with breaks, y’know? Like, I’m really excited to go home for a couple weeks and spend time with my family, but I always end up missing everybody and then I can’t wait to come back,” Kirishima told him lamely. He knew he sounded ridiculous, but he’d never been a very good liar.

Bakugou’s response was exactly what he expected. “Who the fuck is anxious to come back to school?” he muttered. “It’s only like two weeks or whatever. ‘S not like you’re never gonna see anybody again.”

“Yeah…” Kirishima mumbled. “I know. I told ya it was dumb.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed a bit, and for a second Kirishima swore he could somehow see beyond the lie. It wasn’t totally inaccurate—he would miss everybody, but not enough to want to come back to school any sooner. Even he wasn’t that much of a nerd. It wouldn’t be hard for any of his other friends to figure out that the reason he felt like crap about the break was because he’d be going three weeks without seeing Bakugou . It seemed silly—and it was . He knew that. But he couldn’t help that the gorgeous blonde in front of him was special to him.

“So what, you don’t hang out with those losers over break at all?”

“Hm… not really. It’s the holidays, y’know? Everybody’s always super busy…” Kirishima trailed off, not able to unheart just how ridiculous he sounded.

“What?” Bakugou muttered. “Don’t just stop talking in the middle of your sentence.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima said sheepishly.

“So?”

“So what?”

“So finish, Dumb Hair.”

Kirishima’s hand tightened around the handle of his fork and he sat up a bit, purposely keeping his eyes away from Bakugou’s though he knew those piercing red irises were trained right on him. “Wanna know the truth, then?”

“Was that not the fucking truth? What are you even talking about?”

Somehow, Kirishima felt himself grin. “It was the truth, but not… completely. I am gonna miss them, but ‘m gonna miss you , man.”

Out of the corner of his vision Kirishima saw the other lean back a little, the hand that held his sandwich lowering to the plate. “So just fuckin’ text me,” he said. “‘S not like you won’t see me in like two weeks anyway.”

Three weeks , Kirishima mentally corrected. “I know! I guess… ah man, how do I explain this?” He scrambled to find his words, to try and calm his racing heartbeat. He was not ready to confess. Not yet. Especially not right before break. But he couldn’t say nothing now. Couldn’t not explain himself. “I’ve known all those guys for years. Since the beginning of high school, at least. And we usually hang out over the summer and keep in touch when we’re not in school. I’ve only known you for like half a year, but you’re already one of my best friends and it’s like I’m kinda scared that after this year ends you’re not gonna care to be friends anymore,” he said in a rush. With his breath held, he took the risk and flicked his gaze up to the other’s.

“When the fuck did I ever say anything like that?” Bakugou grumbled, setting the sandwich down and a frown pressing into his brow.

“You didn’t! I just figured we haven’t been friends for long and I know lots of people lose touch after graduation. But heh, I guess I’m pretty lame ‘cause I don’t want that to happen with us…” Again he trailed off, a hand scratching habitually at the back of his neck.

“So don’t let it. I sure as fuck am not gonna, unless you turn into an asshole or something,” Bakugou told him. “Stop getting weird ass ideas like that out of nowhere.”

Before he’d even finished the sentence, Kirishima felt his smile returning, but more than that—it almost felt like his entire being was lighting up at the sound of those words alone. “That’s good to hear, man,” he said, holding his fist across the table. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Bakugou muttered, but bumped into the fist with his own anyway.

⚜️

The duo didn’t bother actively looking for the rest of the group once they finished their meal and headed back out to enjoy the festival. Bakugou agreed to playing some of the games—not much different from the Halloween ones, but altered to be more holiday themed—though they spent the majority merely wandering around talking about everything from winter break plans and to memes, and before Kirishima knew it they’d essentially circled the whole campus and were in front of the main entrance to the mess hall again. Bakugou promptly escaped inside, grumbling something about it being ‘too damn cold.’

It was inevitable that they ran into the rest of the group, and they just so happened to be inside in their usual spot, chattering away around a table full of food. The rest of the festival was spent with them, and while Kirishima was happy to be spending the last few hours with them before they had to go finish packing and hit the sack for an early morning, he couldn’t help the mild disappointment that his ‘alone time’ with Bakugou had come to an end. Still, regardless of his crush, Kirishima had never been more sure of his friendship with Bakugou, and he sure as hell couldn’t wait to get back from break.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

No matter how much Kirishima was looking forward to getting back to school, there was always something so relieving about seeing his mom again. Almost the entire campus was cleared of people by the time her car pulled up to the curb where Kirishima had been waiting alone since Bakugou’s mom had come for him nearly an hour earlier. She wasted no time in getting out and pulling him into her arms, somehow always managing to make him feel so small and loved despite his having a good six inches on her at least. He was always reminded that talking on the phone with her on a weekly (or almost-weekly) basis had absolutely nothing on being in her presence.

Naturally, the two hour drive back home was filled with his recounting of the semester for her, beginning always with his test grades.

“I haven’t gotten all of my results back yet. I dunno how I did in math, but I definitely passed art, history, language arts, and government,” he told her. And, as usual, she told him she was proud of him.

She asked about his friends, and he told her they were doing well. Kami and Jirou were still going strong. Sero was only now finding ways to combat his urge to gossip so much (he’d gone to a counselor about it a couple months back when they called him in about it). Mina was still excelling at her dancing, as usual.

“And how are things with that roomate of yours?” she asked somewhere down the road, and that’s when he remembered he hadn’t told her much about Bakugou since giving her the news that he’d finally been assigned a roommate back in September.

“Good,” he said, not even bothering to fight the inevitable smile because he damn well knew it would be fruitless.

“Just good?” she asked, giving him one of those classic mom looks out of the corner of her eye.

“Yeah. Really good, actually. We’re really good friends, and he’s friends with everybody else, too… ‘cept I still don’t think he’s quite ready to admit that just yet,” Kirishima explained with a quiet laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothin’ bad,” he assured her. “‘S kinda hard to explain.”

“‘ It’s ,’ Eijirou. And why? Is he difficult to make friends with?”

“Sorry. And yeah, kinda...” Kirishima pretended to have to yawn to buy himself a minute to figure out how to describe Bakugou to his mom in a way that wouldn’t make her totally hate him. Fortunately, she was one of the most open-minded people he’d ever known. “Honestly, he can be pretty abrasive, and sometimes he’s got quite the temper, but he does warm up quite a bit once you get to know him… well, in his own kind of way.”

Kirishima felt his mother’s smile more than he saw it. “Sounds like you’ve developed quite a fondness for him. Remind me of his name?”

“Bakugou,” he said. “Um, Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Right,” she said, nodding as she recalled their conversation from all those months ago. “It’s good to know you’ve made a new friend, Eijirou. You’ll have to introduce me when you go back for next semester.”

Nervous butterflies instantly filled Kirishima’s stomach, but he nodded anyway. “Sure, Ma.”

As close as Kirishima was to his mother, and as much as he trusted her, even he couldn’t bring himself to open up about his feelings for Bakugou to her. He’d never gotten to this point in any of his past crushes; he was too chicken to even bring it up with her and it felt like opening a can of worms he wasn’t even remotely ready for yet. So for the remainder of the break, he knew he would keep his mouth shut about it.

⚜️

Kirishima’s family wasn’t all that big on holidays. Sure, they liked to spend Christmas together, but it was more of a family night spent catching up with relatives who didn’t see each other that often over the course of the rest of the year; and, even more so, a ridiculously competitive game night. With how absolutely ruthless some of his relatives could be when it came to board or card games (especially his mom, if he was being honest), there wasn’t a year that went by where at least one of his family members reminded him of how surprisingly level-headed he was having grown up in such a competitive household.

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep their cool,” he always told whoever it was who brought it up—usually one of his uncles or older cousins—with a nonchalant shrug.

Of course, because of his easygoing nature, he’d lost count of just how many times the rest of his family had trampled over him in any game you could possibly name. Admittedly he didn’t mind, though—he was just happy to see his family happy, and was more than glad to entertain his little cousins when the rest of the group had a little too much to drink to responsibly look after them anymore. It was a once-a-year thing, and although he always was thinking of Bakugou (somehow unable to stop wishing he was there alongside him, and then picturing just how crazy things would get if he was ) somewhere in the back of his mind, he was undoubtedly happy to be home.

In some ways, it almost was like Bakugou was right there with him. Throughout the break and even on the day of Christmas, he and his roommate were messaging back and forth almost nonstop. It was inevitable that he’d get teased for being on his phone so much, and the little ones were damn persistent at trying to get him to ‘fess up about who he was texting (and he swore he’d have the sing-song voices of the four of them singing ‘Eiji has a girlfriend!’ stuck in his head for the rest of his life), but it wasn’t nearly enough to get him to end his conversation. Besides, he knew his little cousins, and that when even he’d had too much of their crazy antics all he had to do was plop them in front of the TV and put on a movie, and they’d be asleep in no time at all.

The break didn’t cause Kirishima to lose momentum with his meme flirting, either. Frankly, he was too stubborn to let it. (And apparently so was Bakugou, because on several occasions he’d wake up with several notifications of just that from his roommate.) From the ones his other friends had sent him over the course of the past few months, he had plenty saved up to fire at Bakugou in those brief moments of courage (always between the usual, normal memes, of course), such as:

Only boosting his confidence, Bakugou was always fairly quick to respond.

(see it here)

>Thanks, but fuck chemistry

Kirishima could never be sure if Bakugou was taking him seriously or just believed he shared those as a joke. Even still, he was never met with a negative response, and Bakugou never failed to retaliate with some sort of meme of his own.

It was almost a constant thing that Kirishima’s thoughts would wander back to his conversation with Midoriya and then on to the one with his friends the day of midterms whenever he had a minute of downtime, and he’d spent hours over the break mulling over what the hell he should do. He asked himself questions and then asked them again. Any and all time he spend in the garage working away at his board, his mind was preoccupied with trying to make a decision.

Did he want to date Bakugou? Hell yeah, he did! He’d lost count of how many times he’d fantasized about it happening, and even the simple thought made him happier than he could describe.

Did he think that maybe, possibly, perhaps, sort of, that Bakugou might return his feelings? Yes. Maybe. (He hoped—he really hoped.) Did he think that if he could just muster the guts to ask him out on a simple date to somewhere probably really lame, like a Starbucks or whatever (while making sure to imply that it was intended as more than just two bros getting coffee together), that there was a chance—even a small one—that Bakugou would agree? Honestly, yes. He did.

So, then, what the hell was he so afraid of?

The word was small. Quiet, echoing briefly in the back of his mind whenever he asked himself the question, but leaving a terribly bitter feeling weighing on his chest.

Rejection .

Sure, he thought there might be at least a small chance Bakugou would agree, but there was so much else to consider. He didn’t even know if Bakugou even looked at other guys that way. He’d never shown interest. (Though to be fair, Kirishima thought, he’d never shown that kind of interest in anyone .) And Bakugou was his friend —a really good friend, at that. He’d never had the types of conversations with anyone the way he did with Bakugou, never really had the kind of fun he and Bakugou had with anyone else (which, incidentally, only made him like his roommate that much more). Even if he were to ask Bakugou out on a simple more-than-bros coffee date, Kirishima couldn’t help but feel like he was putting everything at stake. He knew the second he opened his mouth and uttered the question, no matter the outcome, things between them would never be the same again. It could be good, he knew, but there were odds that it could have a terrible impact on their relationship, too.

And he just wasn’t ready to take that risk. While he was confident in their friendship, and glad that Bakugou seemed to have the same interest in maintaining it even after graduation, he wasn’t confident enough that their bond was strong enough to make it through something like that. The simple thought of losing Bakugou, even as just a good friend, caused his chest to ache, right in the center.

⚜️

By the time New Year’s eve rolled around, Kirishima was more than happy to have the responsibility of entertaining his little cousins again because he was starting to tire himself out with the same, incessant cycle of thoughts he’d been having since the minute he’d gotten home.

But even they weren’t quite enough to keep him fully distracted.

“Eiji!” the littlest of the bunch exclaimed as she jumped into his lap while the other three dug out the huge bucket of Legos in the closet. “How’s your gir’frien’?” she asked with a giggle.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he told her with a grin.

Instantly her face fell. “Oh.” But like a flip was switched, it lit up again. “Okay, den how’s your boyfrien’?”

“I… don’t have a boyfriend, either,” he managed. To his misfortune, though, the four-year-old was more perceptive than expected and she laughed.

“Liar, liar!” she sang, reaching up to squish his cheek (something she learned from her mother, who had a habit of doing that to him when she was drunk). As he tugged her fingers away, his attempt to tell her he wasn’t lying was rendered fruitless as she jumped from his lap and ranto tell the others. “Eiji has a boyfrien’! Eiji has a boyfrien’!” she practically screeched.

For the rest of the evening he was deflecting their questions, and was admittedly a bit disappointed when their mom gave them permission to stay up until midnight and ring in the new year. If he was lucky, they’d fall asleep by ten and spare him. And, to his fortune, even he was worn out by their antics by the time eleven rolled around, so it was no surprise that they were more than ready to just chill on the large sectional in the basement and watch a movie.

“But we won’t fall asleep!” the eldest of them promised, stubbornly crossing her arms.

“Nope!” the others agreed, mirroring her actions.

“Whatever you say,” he told them.

Twenty minutes later, they were all knocked out—and so was he, lying on the floor in front of them completely exhausted but grateful for the relief.

⚜️

When Kirishima found himself blinking his dry eyes open several hours later, having no idea what time it was, the house was almost peculiarly quiet. With a sigh he sat up, neck stiff from having slept on the floor with nothing more than a throw pillow from the couch, and glanced to his left where the four little ones were still sound asleep and unbothered by anything, including the lamp that’d accidentally been left on.

He fumbled for his phone, nearly lost halfway under the couch and found it to be only just after five in the morning. The only notification listed beneath the clock was from Instagram.

‘fuck_off sent you a photo.’

Suddenly more awake, Kirishima unlocked the device and opened the app immediately, a light smile playing on his lips. Quickly he realized it wasn’t a normal photo message—it was one that he had to tap ‘view photo’ to see, and it had come in five hours ago, almost right at midnight.

Bakugou had taken a picture of himself, smudged eyeliner, middle finger and all, with his pierced tongue sticking out and added red text to the bottom that read, “Happy New Year, fucker.”

Kirishima was more than awake now. He’d sat up fully and took in the photo as much as he could for the few brief seconds it was on his screen before it disappeared and reverted back to their messages. His stomach was full of butterflies, the grin much more than a mild smirk now, as he tapped the reply button.

The face that replaced Bakugou’s on the screen was very obviously sleepy, with his hair hair smashed down in several places. Still, he threw up a peace sign and snapped a photo. “Happy New Year, Bakubro!” he added to the bottom before tapping send.

Kirishima was able to take a trip to the bathroom and then upstairs to get ready for a quick shower before Bakugou responded. He was already too wired to go back to sleep despite it barely being sunrise.

>Lmao did you fall asleep?

>Haha, yup

>Loser

>Hey, i had 4 little kids to look after all day! I was tired

>Weak

>What about you? Did you even sleep at all?

>Nope

Kirishima rolled his eyes, grinning. Somehow he always sort of knew that school was what kept Bakugou’s sleep schedule relatively normal. As was typical, their conversation carried throughout the morning and it was clear when Bakugou did eventually succumb to slumber, leaving a good chunk of time when he didn’t reply until it was much later in the afternoon and Kirishima’s house was finally void of relatives. Naturally, he took the time to tease Bakugou right back when he awoke.

>Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?  ;) x'D

>Stfu asshole

>But yeah, i did. Thanks for asking

>What happened to ‘sleep is for the weak?’

>Your mom, that’s what

>x’D

The sound of his mother’s voice brought Kirishima back to the present. “Who’re you texting with such a big smile?” she asked with a grin of her own.

“Huh?” he mumbled stupidly. “Um, nobody,” he said quickly.

“Suuuure,” she drawled as she reached up and ruffled his hair. “Well whoever they are, I’m glad this ‘nobody’ person is around to make my boy smile at his phone all week,” she said before going around him and heading into the garage.

The heat flooding Kirishima’s face was inevitable and he knew it. If his mom noticed and said something, he knew he had to have it bad.

Aw man.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Kirishima spent the remainder of his break working away at his board and helping his mom around the house. After the winter holidays, it always took a few days to get the house back in proper order. She took him shopping, too, to replenish some of his school supplies and paints he would need for his board.

He spent the last couple of days eating away hours working on his board, polishing it up and getting it ready to be painted. All the while he sent Bakugou progress photos and was too busy with that to even think about making an actual post. (Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it later.)

In the end he’d spent so much time perfecting the structure he’d run out of time to actually begin painting and before he knew it, he was on his way back to school.

“It’s your last semester of high school,” his mom said on the way. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” was all he mumbled, absentmindedly gazing out the window.

“Just ‘yeah’?” She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, coaxing his attention back in her direction. “You’re so close to being done! You should be proud.”

“I am,” he assured her with a smile. And he was, but truthfully graduation and all that was one of the furthest things from his mind. He felt silly for it, but he was probably a little too excited to get back and see his roommate again.

“I am, too,” she said. “It seems like just yesterday when you were running around with diapers on your head.”

“Aw c’mon, Ma. You’re not gonna start that speech, are you? Now?”

“No, no, you’re right,” she said, laughing. “I apologize. I’ll save it for May.”

As usual, his mother walked him all the way back to his dorm room, insisting upon carrying one of his bags. Easily he could’ve carried them himself, and all the while his stomach was fluttering in anticipation that Bakugou might already be there when they made it to the room. He had no way of knowing, though, because his roommate hadn’t messaged him since the previous night, likely too busy to pay attention to his phone.

Lo and behold, though, the door was still locked and the room void of any life when they made it, which wasn’t too surprising considering how empty the campus still was. When she started helping him unpack, Kirishima knew his mother was trying to drag out her time with him—and he let her. As much as he might’ve hated it, he was always the type to get choked up when his mom left, knowing it’d be a few months before seeing her again. So he dragged out his last hug with her, too, and let her pet his hair the way she always did when he was little.

“You’re gonna be okay taking the bus home for spring break when your aunt and I go on our cruise, right?” she asked.

“Yup. Already told you I would,” he said.

“Don’t forget to call me often.”

“Have I ever forgotten?” he teased.

“I’m just making sure.”

“I know. Have fun on your trip.”

“Absolutely,” she promised. “Make this semester count, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll see you in May.”

“May,” she murmured, gently removing herself from the hug with evident reluctance. “It seems so far away.”

“Nah. Just a little over three months. It’ll probably fly by,” he assured her.

“I hope so,” she said with that half-joking smile he knew so well, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Have fun. I love you and I’ll see you then.”

“Love you too, Ma.” When she didn’t make a move to head for the door he asked, “D’you want me to walk you back to the car?”

“Oh, no,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m just being a little too sentimental, you know me.”

“‘Kay. Call me when you get home.”

“I will. Bye, hon.” With that, she finally turned around, but just as she was about to head out, a spiky-haired figure appeared in the doorway.

Bakugou

The first thing Bakugou saw when he stepped back into his dorm room was a short-statured, dark-haired lady he somehow vaguely recognized. Right behind her was Kirishima himself, staring right at him with those big, dumb, bright eyes of his.

“Oh hey, Bakugou!” Dumb Hair greeted him instantly with that huge smile of his.

“Hey…” he mumbled back.

“Ah… Ma, this is Bakugou. Bakugou, this is my Mom, Shiori,” he said quickly, gesturing to the woman.

“Of course!” the lady was the first to speak up. She promptly greeted him with a smile that was eerily similar to Dumb Hair’s and held out her hand for him to shake. “Eijirou has told me about you.”

Of course he has, was all Bakugou could think as he, with a lump in his throat, tentatively shook hands with her, denying every second that his face was growing warm. “‘S nice to meet you,” he mumbled uneasily.

Weirdly enough, she chuckled as her arm fell back to his side and gently nudged her son. “Did he pick up that habit from you?”

“Ma…” Kirishima complained. His eyes were pointed down at the floor, a hand scratching at the back of his neck as he sometimes did.

Again she laughed. “I’m only kidding,” she said. She headed for the door; Bakugou swore he felt some kind of weird shiver skitter up his spine when she went around behind him. “Anyway, I better head on out. It was good to meet you, Bakugou. Good luck on your last semester!” she called as she spared an absent wave over her shoulder. And then she was gone, but the damn thick feeling in Bakugou’s throat didn’t immediately ease up.

“The fuck was she talking about?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Uhm… the whole lazy speech thing. She gets on me about it all the time,” Kirishima explained. “Sorry, dude.”

“...whatever,” Bakugou muttered, finally moving over to his bed to dump all the shit he’d had to carry all the way across campus (because his damn mother mistakenly went to the wrong parking lot, and then spewed some bullshit about ‘exercise is good for you’ and refused to go to the right parking lot).

“So how was your break, man?” Dumb Hair asked as they both got to work unpacking, and only then was Bakugou beginning to relax from the unexpected meeting.

“Fine, I guess. ‘S not like you don’t really know,” Bakugou told him.

Kirishima’s laugh filled the air between them, and it got to the point where it was next to freaking impossible for Bakugou to deny the stupid, weird… fluttery feeling that shitty sound gave him. Fuck, I missed that sound , was the first, automatic thought he immediately buried.

“True. But how were your holidays? You never talked about it.” Kirishima planted himself on the floor in front of his dresser with the bulging backpack that held his clothes.

“The usual. Went and did family shit… dinner and stuff. I only have two little nieces, so they got all the presents ‘n shit.”

“What, are you bitter about that?” Kirishima sounded way too amused.

“ No ,” Bakugou grumbled, clicking his tongue.

“Suuure,” Dumb Hair teased with a snicker. “But shit—you have nieces?” He said suddenly, his arms falling into his lap; the motion of his bright red hair swiveling in his direction caused Bakugou to look up. “You’re an uncle ?” he practically gasped, his eyes lighting up like the fucking Christmas tree Bakugou was more than sick of looking at. (But of course because it was Shitty Hair , he didn’t mind. Ugh. )

“Kinda. My dad had a daughter before he met my mom, and she has kids. But they live like six hours away, so I barely see ‘em.”

“That’s freakin’ adorable, man,” Kirishima said. “How come you never told me?”

Bakugou shrugged, internally swearing he was gonna go blind because of the bright fucker across the room and turning his attention back to his haphazardly folded clothes. “Never came up. It’s not like you ever told me you have little cousins.”

“Hm, touché. So how old are they?”

“Five.”

“Both of ‘em?”

“Yeah. They’re twins.” And annoying as shit . Every other thing out of their mouths was a question. Over the course of the entire two weeks he had to spend with them, he’d lost count of how many damn times they bugged him about his piercings, or any of the other shit he wore, like why he wore so much black, if he ‘cried black tears’ because of his eyeliner, or why he spiked his hair. As a result he was snapped at by his mom several times because of slipping up and ‘accidentally’ swearing at them.

“Sounds like a handful,” Kirishima said.

“You have no fucking clue,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Hey, when I have four little cousins, the oldest of which is eight, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“...yeah, I guess.”

The remainder of their time unpacking and putting their things back in their places was spent in quiet—and it was a weirdly comfortable quiet at that. Usually Dumb Hair would play music or one of them would find something to talk about to fill that space of silence, but this time it somehow wasn’t needed. It was damn rare for Bakugou to not feel some form of discomfort in the quiet between himself and another person. Fortunately, he was getting good at stopping himself from over thinking shit like that before he started (even though he definitely had lost sleep over some shit like that in the past, as much as he hated to admit it to himself).

Bakugou was still putting his stuff in the bathroom when Kirishima finally spoke up again, calling from the other room.

“So hey, what’s your class schedule this semester?” he asked.

“Dunno. Haven’t checked the email yet,” Bakugou told him, slapping the light switch into the off position and then plopping onto his bed. With little care, the other came and sat next to him, phone in hand.

“You should. My seventh period bio class got swapped for environmental science, so yours probably got moved around a little too.”

Bakugou felt himself sigh and tugged out his phone to log into his email—something he hadn’t checked in months. Sure enough that shit was filled, but fortunately the email titled ‘Spring Schedules!’ was near the top and it only took a minute to download the attachment. He peered at the screen, noting that the only class before lunch that had changed was his P.E. class was no longer team sports and was instead some bullshit called ‘recreational sports,’ whatever the fuck that meant. Apparently, though, Dumb Hair saw something before him because suddenly he was exclaiming, “Dude!”

Instantly, Bakugou jerked away? “What, asshole?! Don’t yell in my ear,” he hissed.

“Sorry,” Kirishima mumbled, leaning back a bit. “But look—you’re in the same environmental class as I am,” he said, pointing down to the seventh period row where it did, indeed, say ‘ENV Sci’ where his anatomy and physiology class (that he’d just scraped by with a D last semester only because the teacher never assigned homework) used to be, below it a room number and a teacher’s name Bakugou had never heard of.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, here. Look.” Kirishima held up his phone right beside Bakugou’s and pointed at the same spot on the schedule where it said the exact same thing—same room number and everything.

“Well shit,” Bakugou mumbled. “You’re right.”

And then Dumb Hair was practically beaming, holding up his hand for a high five that Bakugou promptly slapped his own hand into without really thinking. “Sweet. I didn’t think I’d have classes with any of my friends this year,” Kirishima said.

“Aren’t you friends with Deku?” Bakugou mumbled, directing his gaze back to his phone to take a screenshot of the email.

“Well yeah, but I guess I meant the main group.”

Bakugou merely grunted. He definitely wasn’t thrilled about having a shitty environmental science class, especially because it was already a subject he knew next to nothing about. He figured that at least the class wouldn’t be complete shit if Dumb Hair was there. Though he couldn’t imagine it being any worse than the stupid anatomy class they made him take last semester anyway.

“Hey, wanna go meet Kami and Sero in the lounge? Looks like they got back a couple hours ago,” Kirishima said.

“‘Kay.”

The two other losers were on their usual couch chattering away about what they did over the break when Bakugou and Kirishima sauntered into the otherwise empty lounge. Kaminari was in the middle of his story about convincing his parents to let him and Jirou spend spring break together when they joined, Kirishima tucking himself into one of the chairs and Bakugou flopping carelessly into a bean bag chair.

“It took a lot of buttering up and even then I thought they weren’t gonna agree,” he said.

“But they did?” Sero asked.

“Yup.”

“...but?” Kirishima prompted. Even Bakugou could feel there was something left unsaid, and he didn’t look nearly as happy as he should’ve.

“...it’s nothin’ bad,” Kaminari mumbled. “Just embarrassing.”

“See, now you have to spit it out,” Bakugou jumped in.

Bakugou never thought legit, red in the face blushing was a real thing but damn was he wrong—Kaminari was beet fucking red. “...after they said yes, my dad took me aside the next day and…” He paused to clear his throat. “He uh… gave me the weirdest Christmas present… ever.”

“What?” Sero asked, leaning forward. That stupid sparkle glinted in his eyes at the slight suggestion of gossip.

“Dude, that sounds fucking gross,” Bakugou found himself blurting.

“Shit, no! It’s nothing like that!” Kaminari backtracked immediately. “Gross! Why would you even think that?”

Bakugou held up his hands. “You made it sound that way, idiot. ‘S not my fault.”

“Okaaay, so now that we’ve established Bakugou’s mind is in the gutter…” Sero mumbled. “What’d he give you?”

Kaminari sucked in a breath, which he huffed out in a rush. “He gave me a freakin’ box of condoms,” he grumbled without looking at anyone.

An amused albeit slightly incredulous snort escaped Bakugou’s nose before he could stop it, though that was nothing compared to Sero’s sudden fit of ridiculous chortles. Kaminari shrunk back into the arm of the couch behind him, running a hand sheepishly through his hair.

“Hey, I think that was nice of him!” Dumb Hair cut into Sero’s stupid laughter. “At least he wants you to be safe and isn’t pretending like he doesn’t know what might happen like a lot of parents do.”

“I know,” Kaminari muttered. “‘S not like I ain’t grateful for the thought or anything, but it’s so weird to get stuff like that from your dad .”

Kirishima shrugged. “Nah. ‘S only weird if you make it weird.”

“Then it’s still weird.”

“Sorry, man,” Sero said when he finally calmed down from laughing like a fucking donkey. “I dunno why but that’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“It’s fine, man. Just don’t tell anyone, ‘kay? Especially anyone who might tell Kyouka. I don’t want her to think I’m gonna pressure her into anything and then back out of spending break with me.”

“No worries, man. I know when to keep stuff to myself,” Sero assured.

“Hardly,” Bakugou muttered under his breath. Only Kirishima seemed to hear him, though, and he grinned ruefully in agreement.

“Anyway,” mumbled Kaminari, clearly ready to move the subject away from himself, “How was break for you guys?” He pointed the question at Bakugou and Kirishima themselves.

“Pretty good,” Kirishima said. “Tiring, ‘cause of my little cousins. But I got a lot done on my board.”

“Sweet! Pictures?” Sero piped up.

Dumb Hair pulled up the progress pictures of his board that Bakugou had already seen and let the other losers look through them, spewing compliments and praise his way the whole time. It launched them into more conversations about their dumb winter breaks, to which Bakugou only supplied a quipped answer of “Fine. Boring,” when asked about his.

Eventually, the girls showed up and entered the endless chattering themselves. Right then and there, Pikachu broke the news to his girlfriend about his parents’ approval, earning the grosses, wettest kisses from her that sent a mildly disgusted shiver down Bakugou’s spine.

“Gross, guys,” Dumb Hair mumbled. “What’s with the sudden PDA?”

“Hey, you’d do the same if you were with someone and you hadn’t seen ‘em in almost a month,” Pikachu said with a weirdly mischievous (and idiotic) grin.

“Yeah, if only you’d grow a pair and ask you-know-who out on a—”

Sero’s teasing was cut off by Pinky, who reached out and pressed her hand right to his mouth, leaving the word date muffled.

“C’mon, Sero, you’re seventeen. Shouldn’t you know how to shut your mouth by now?” she mumbled. “It’s not nice to tease people.”

“Ah… s’okay,” Kirishima mumbled. When Bakugou’s eyes landed back on his face, he looked nothing short of abso-fucking-lutely embarrassed.

Sero tugged Mina’s hand from his mouth. “He knows I’m right,” he said, smug.

“ Anyway ,” Pikachu cut in, dragging out the word for the second time, “I thought we should all go do somethin’ fun off campus before school starts back up, and my mom gave me a bunch of free bowling passes if you guys wanted to go.”

“Heck yeah! I love bowling,” Pinky shouted.

“I’m down,” Jirou said.

“Sure,” Kirishima and Sero agreed, leaving all heads to turn to Bakugou.

“...yeah, whatever,” he mumbled. “I’ll kick all of your asses, though.”

“You’re on, man,” Dumb Hair said with a challenging grin. “Bowling is something I actually excel at.”

“Hmph. We’ll see. Don’t cry when you get your ass handed to you, though. I don’t carry tissues with me for all the snot.”

“Hey, when have I ever been a sore loser? It’s not manly.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Bakugou repeated.

The rest of the group exchanged a look. “Should we start placing bets?” Jirou asked.

“We’ll see how they play tomorrow,” Sero said. “And then place bets.”

“Alright. We should go after lunch tomorrow, yeah? That way we’ll have all afternoon to play and be back in time for dinner.”

Hums of agreement went around the group before Kirishima suggested another round or Super Smash Bros. While Pinky went to make popcorn, the rest settled in to play or watch.

And the sound of Sero saying ‘you-know-who’ was stuck in Bakugou’s head for the rest of the damn night.

Chapter Text

Bakugou

Dumb Hair fucking likes someone .

As good as Bakugou thought he’d been getting at pushing abnormal-as-fuck thoughts about his damn roommate to the back of his mind and ignoring them, he couldn’t shake this one. It just kept popping up like a fucking cockroach.

And why the fuck did it even matter? Sure, he was irritated that Kirishima kept this shit from him, and still didn’t even seem to give a shit about elaborating on it—he thought they were fucking friends , and as shitty as he was at being friends with people, even he knew you were supposed to share shit like that. But that didn’t explain the weird, deeper, rotten feeling it gave him that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

What the fuck, you asshole , he continually thought to himself. It’s not like you like him. You’re not fucking gay.

But even still, there was something inside of him that didn’t fully believe that the feeling had absolutely nothing to do with the way Kirishima’s stupid presence put him in a better mood, or the awkward fluttery sensation in his stomach whenever the idiot laughed, or any number of the other gross feelings he had pertaining to Dumb Hair.

All he could do, though, was be glad that outwardly he’d mastered the art of keeping those kinds of thoughts and shit off of his face and (mostly) out of his behavior. Even if he was more frustrated and, therefore, in a more bitter mood since Sero let the stupid beans spill about the you-know-who (it was like they were fucking middle schoolers, for fuck’s sake), he knew everyone else would easily chalk it up to it being his usual attitude. And they did, so nobody sent any questions he couldn’t answer his way. Thank fuck.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask Dumb Hair who the hell he liked, either, or why he never told Bakugou about it.

What if you’re the you-know-who, dumbass, his mind whispered. Immediately, though, he shot that thought down. Yeah fucking right. He’s too damn sweet and bright to like an asshole like you .

...but then, what were all those ridiculous memes about? And the stupid pickup lines (that Bakugou admittedly thought were kinda cute, as stupid as they were, because they came from Dumb Hair)? Did he really send all that shit just because he thought they were funny or whatever? Or was it a legit attempt at flirting (that… Bakugou would, internally—deep, deep down—have to admit would probably work on him, had he been sure they were serious and not so damn confused and uncertain)?

But how the fuck could he even know if the idiot liked guys? He had no way of not knowing, but Kirishima never talked about shit like that, and Bakugou sure as fuck didn’t want to go off and just assume things where it wasn’t his place, no matter what kinds of fucked up thoughts wouldn’t leave him the hell alone.

By the time he and Dumb Hair sauntered up to the bus stop with the rest of the idiots, Bakugou wanted to just smash his head into the nearest wall from overthinking it so damn much.

“So each of the passes covers one game and one pair of shoes, and my mom gave me eight passes. So… we could play eight games if you guys really wanna, or we can split up between two lanes and do four games each,” Pikachu explained.

“I’m impressed you can do that much math,” Bakugou muttered as he plopped himself on the end of the bench, keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes away from the rest of the group.

“Hey, Kami passed Kindergarten,” Sero joked.

“The first time or the second?”

“Jeez, someone piss in your wheaties this morning?” Jirou asked.

“Baku’s been in a crabby mood all day,” Kirishima said, taking a seat beside him.

“Who the fuck says ‘crabby’? And no I haven’t, shut up.”

“Okay, dude, whatever you say,” Dumb Hair said.

Just when Bakugou was beginning to question why the fuck he was there in the first place and debating whether he should just head back to their dorm and go the fuck back to sleep, the bus pulled noisily up to the curb. Kiri-fucking-shima, being the nice fucker he was, volunteered to pay for everyone’s fare as they piled onto the virtually empty vehicle. Bakugou immediately tucked himself into a window seat and, of course, Dumb Hair plopped right down next to him (something he pretended really hard not to be happy about). Just as the bus lurched forward once the rest of the herd of idiots were settled, Kirishima spoke up.

“Seriously man, you okay?”

“‘M fucking fine.” Of course, Bakugou didn’t look at him when he said it, so Shitty Hair didn’t believe him; it was evident in his tone of voice.

“Alright, Bakugou, but I’m here if ya need to talk, alright?”

Bakugou brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

“Y’know you didn’t have to come if you didn’t wanna, right?”

“Yes, I fucking know that, Shitty Hair.”

Bakugou didn’t need to see him to know those big, dopey eyes of his widened in surprise at the new nickname Bakugou realized he’d never actually said out loud before. He shut up for the remainder of the ride, leaving Bakugou to internally curse himself for being such an asshole.

Turned out, Kirishima hadn’t really been offended at all because at their last stop just outside the bowling alley, he hung back from the rest of the group to wait for Bakugou, who was the last to step off the bus.

“Looks like we’re all just gonna share one lane,” he said. “Cool with you.”

“‘S fine.”

Dumb Hair grinned. “You think they’re really gonna place bets on us?”

“You think you’re good enough for them to?” Bakugou challenged.

“Hell yeah, man! I learned from my mom, and she used to be on a small local league in the town I live in. She’s still better than me, but I can definitely kick some ass.”

Immediately Bakugou tried to picture the tiny thing that was Kirishima’s mom bowling. Height wasn’t really an advantage, but she looked too damn fragile to hold a bowling ball, let alone throw it down a lane and make a strike. He kept the thought to himself, though.

“We’ll see about that,” was all Bakugou said as he let Dumb Hair hold the door open for him.

The two met the others at the counter where Kaminari was turning in the passes to exchange for six games and six pairs of shoes. As soon as they all had what they needed, they sauntered toward their assigned lane to change shoes and choose their balls. Once done, they wasted no time in getting started.

Right off the bat it was clear who knew what the hell they were doing and who was just winging it. Sero’s first four balls went straight for the gutter before Dumb Hair gave him some pointers about angling his wrist a bit, and even then he only managed to knock down one or two pins a frame. Mina was a bit better, but only a bit; she continuously let go of the ball too soon without giving enough momentum, so it took forever for it to finally reach the pins. Still, she managed to rack up more points than Sero. Pikachu was surprisingly decent; he managed to knock in a few spares, and surprisingly enough he was doing better than his girlfriend, who was only a little better than Pinky.

None of them, though, had any hope with catching up with Bakugou or Kirishima. Much to Bakugou’s irritation, Shitty Hair wasn’t just boasting about his skills to psych himself up. He was fucking good , scoring almost exclusively strikes throughout the last half of their first game after they’d warmed up. Even Bakugou, who’d gone bowling almost every weekend with his parents when he was a kid, was somewhat struggling to keep up with him. In the end, the little fucker won by only six points.

“Believe me now?” Kirishima asked him as he took a seat after his last strike, with a cocky grin on that stupidly soft face of his.

“I’m just getting started, Dumb Hair. Don’t get all overconfident.”

Kirishima only laughed and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Instinctually Bakugou pretended he didn’t feel a surge of heat from that one small touch and used his phone as a distraction.

“Hey… you guys think we could get another lane? This shit seriously isn’t fair,” Sero said. Bakugou looked up to find him gazing pitifully up at the scoreboard where he’d gotten his ass handed to him. The dude hadn’t even scored a hundred points, whereas Kirishima had scored a solid 274.

“Aw, ‘s not so bad, man,” Kirishima told him.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you won,” Sero said.

“Nah, let’s do it,” Pikachu piped up. “Since that lane just opened.” He nodded at the lane right beside the one they were using. “The four of us can go over there so Kiri and Bakugou can duke it out by themselves, and then we can place our bets.”

“Wait, let’s give ‘em one more game,” Mina said. “It’s not fair if we all just bet on Kiri since he won. It’s only one game.”

“That’s fair. I’ll go get the other lane. You guys get started.” Kaminari was already jogging away as he shouted it.

“Sure you’re up for it?” Dumb Hair asked.

Bakugou cracked his knuckles. “Fuckin’ bring it,” was all he said.

For the entire second game they were neck-and-neck until Kirishima managed one more stupid strike than Bakugou and took the win again, this time only by two points at 288. Half the time the others were so engrossed with watching them compete that they forgot their own turns and were only four frames in by the time Kirishima had his second win.

“Sure you don’t wanna give up yet?” Shitty Hair teased as they sat to watch the others and take a break.

“Fuck no,” was Bakugou’s immediate response. His competitive spirit had been awakened. He’d lost by two fucking points , and he knew he could kick Dumb Hair’s ass. He just needed to focus. No damn way was he about to stop when he was right there .

So he didn’t. After Kaminari won the game with the other three, he and Kirishima started their third round. In the first few frames Bakugou managed to pull ahead and keep his lead, even if it was by less than a dozen points, until he claimed victory by a solid eight points, sitting at 279.

“Not bad, man,” Dumb Hair told him with a grin.

“You guys doing best of three or best of five?” Kaminari asked with a mouthful of fries.

“Five,” Bakugou said automatically. Hell no, he wasn’t gonna be taking a loss at best of three when he just reined in his first victory.

“Sweet! Gives me time to take over the jukebox,” Pikachu said. “C’mon, babe! Help me choose a song to put on…”

Halfway through the fourth game it was evident that Pikachu had basically taken over the freaking jukebox and was wasting the extra money he had on letting Jirou pick most of the songs. They weren’t bad, though; most of them, while not quite up his alley, were upbeat enough to help him get into a better groove and steal the game for his own, this time somehow managing to pull ahead by 16 points at 277.

“Time to place bets!” Pinky shouted as soon as the game was over, throwing her arms up.

“Whoa! Are you guys seriously tied?” Sero asked as he stumbled back with an armful of food.

“Yep,” Kirishima stated proudly. “You guys bet all ya want, but I’m gonna go get a snack. Wanna come, Bakubro? My treat,” he said.

Bakugou’s answer was merely to quietly follow him toward the concession counter. “Where do you get all this damn money from, anyway?”

“I get a monthly allowance from my mom. It was our agreement as long as I keep my grades decent that she’d give me money each month for whatever I need, plus some rec stuff.”

“The fuck? Your family rich or something?”

“Nah, but I guess you could say we’re probably a bit better off than some people. What do you want?” he asked as they stepped up to the counter.

It only took a few minutes for their food to be ready once they ordered and they shuffled back to the group with their hands full.

“We’ve placed our bets!” Pinky shouted as soon as they took their seats at the counter.

“Yeah?” Dumb Hair asked, and Bakugou couldn’t help noticing that shitty, sly grin crossing his face.

“We’re all putting in twenty bucks,” she continued, hopping up onto one of the stools. “Kami and I bet on you, Kiri. Jirou and Sero bet on Bakugou. Whoever wins takes the money and splits it in half.”

“So basically two of us are coming in to twenty bucks today,” Kaminari said, coming up behind her. “Unless you guys by some crazy ass chance tie, in which we all just keep our money.”

“That’s not fucking fair,” Bakugou said. “If we tie, you assholes give us the money and we’ll split it.”

“Aw, but then you’re gonna be trying to tie.”

“Yeah, but neither of us benefit from your shitty bet no matter which one of us wins,” he mumbled before stuffing a bite of pizza in his mouth.

“That’s not true. You guys get the satisfaction and bragging rights that come with winning,” Sero pointed out.

“That’s fucking lame.” Bakugou muttered the words out around his food.

“Aw, I don’t think it’s that bad,” Kirishima said. Of fucking course you don’t, Bakugou thought automatically. “Let ‘em bet, and when Kami, Mina, and I are done celebrating, we’ll buy you something pretty with the winnings.” Dumb Hair punctuated the tease with a wink—a fucking wink , and a shiver (a pleasant one, at that) skittered down Bakugou’s spine. His eyes cut away from the idiot.

“Fine, but when I win, you don’t get shit,” he mumbled.

As per fucking usual for Kirishima, the idiot laughed. And Bakugou’s ears savored the silvery sound without his conscious effort to do so.

Fuck.

By the time they were finished eating, he’d all but forgotten the thought and was more than damn ready to kick some ass for the third time in a row and take bragging rights—something he would definitely be using in the future once he had them.

And he was right—the first couple of frames were his , with two strikes in a row, followed by an easy spare whereas Dumb Hair only managed two spares and missed the one last pin he had to knock down in the third frame. Already he had the lead and as the game continued, it looked more and more like he’d keep it despite the fact that Kirishima was right on his tail, remaining a consistent six-ish points behind him nearly the whole way.

But fuck , one slip-up of twisting his wrist just a little too far to the right, causing it to wiz past the last two standing pins in the sixth frame, brought Kirishima right up to speed with him, and in the next pulled ahead by a meager two points . As much as Bakugou told himself over and over not to panic, he was consistently over-correcting and making the tiniest mistakes that cost him big time.

And it was absolutely infuriating how damn smug that red-headed asshole was! It was so fucking distracting , and in the end those distractions mixed with Bakugou’s damn internal desperation to win, his competitive spirit more fired up than it’d been in a while, resulted in his loss, by Three. Stupid. Points .

“Fuck!” he hissed when his ball sunk into the gutter for the last foot or so of the lane, missing the last few pins and giving Kirishima the win.

“Woo! Go Kiri!” Sero shouted from somewhere behind him.

“Ya did it!” squealed Pinky.

The absolutely maddening slap of their hands coming together in a three-way high five had Bakugou impulsively planting the toe of his bowling shoe into the side of one of the chairs.

“Aw c’mon dude, it’s not that bad,” Kirishima told him. “It’s just a game, and you played really well! I was having trouble there for a bit. You seriously weren’t lying when you said you could kick ass.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou grumbled, frustratedly kicking off his bowling shoes and finding his own under the seat. He sat heavily in one of the chairs to put them on.

“You’re not really that mad, are ya?” Kirishima planted his stupid, annoying ass in the seat next to him to do the same.

“No.”

“Liar,” he chuckled. “Don’t be a sore loser, Bakubro.” His elbow judged Bakugou gently in the ribs.

“I’m not, fucker.”

“ Someone’s bitter,” teased Jirou from toward the counter.

“Shut the fuck up, no I’m not.” Bakugou tossed his jacket over his shoulder as he stood up, swiped the bowling shoes from the floor, and went to return them.

Dumb Hair followed, saying, “S’okay, man. We can have a rematch sometime and I’ll go easy on you.” Again Kirishima fucking winked , and Bakugou wanted nothing more than to slap that stupid grin right off that dumb, pudgy face of his. Instead he turned his back toward the rest of the assholes and headed straight for the door.

But of course, Kirishima kept up easily. “You know I’m kidding, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dumb Hair.”

Bakugou felt the chuckle more than he heard it because the next thing he knew, Kirishima’s arm was slung playfully over his shoulders as they walked, and at that one gesture Bakugou swore he felt his heart jump nervously into his throat, his stomach doing a weird sort of… flop, or whatever. He stiffened instinctively.

“But hey, thanks for coming and being a challenge, ‘cause I probably would’ve bowled all these guys into the ground and it wouldn’t have been as fun,” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the others.

“Hey!” Pinky chirped from behind them.

“Nah, he’s right,” Sero told her.

“...yeah, you’re welcome, I guess,” Bakugou told his roommate, ignoring the others.

He pretended that he didn’t, deep down, feel a sliver of disappointment when Kirishima’s warm arm fell from his shoulders and he moved to hold the door open. The short walk from the shoe counter to the door had eaten up all of the bitterness Bakugou had, indeed, held festering from his loss.

The afternoon of bowling had distracted him enough to cause him to damn near forget what he’d been so fucking flustered and irritated about that morning, but Dumb Hair’s teasing brought all those shitty thoughts back in full swing. He could feel his stupid face heating up at all of Kirishima’s soft-hearted accusations of being a ‘sore loser’ with that shitty, melodic laugh of his, (not to mention the way he’d put his damn arm around him ), and all he wanted to do was dunk his head in a bucket of fucking ice water.

“Dude, Bakugou, you’re blushing,” Pikachu said with a grin as they headed across the parking lot toward the bus stop.

Bakugou had half the mind to fucking trip him. “No I’m not, asshole!” he snapped instantly, fingers tightening into fists.

“Yeah you are, man,” Sero laughed. “You’re pinker than Mina’s hair.”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t fucking blush!” he shouted. He was seriously ready to start kicking some ass—and literally this time.

“Okaaay, whatever you say, bro!”

Before he started chasing these damn losers across the parking lot, Bakugou let out a long breath through his nose, forcing himself to find some semblance of calm within him.

So the fuck what if he was blushing?! They’d been fucking teasing him! It had nothing to do with his bright eyed, red haired, way too damn smiley roommate, he swore .

I’m not fucking gay, and Dumb Hair likes someone else anyway , he internally hissed to himself. And he’d chant that to himself over and over until he believed it, no matter how long it took.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

“So guys… last day of break. How do ya wanna spend it?” Kirishima was asking at breakfast the next morning with Kaminari and Sero; the girls hadn’t shown up yet and Bakugou had been so sound asleep when Kirishima left that he hadn’t the heart to wake him.

“Dunno, man. The game room and the lounge are gonna be packed ‘cause everyone’s getting back and don’t have homework and stuff they gotta do,” Kaminari pointed out.

“True,” Kirishima murmured.

“And man, I’m still super tired from break and this whole… having to get my sleep schedule back on track,” Sero mumbled out past a yawn.

“Let’s just chill today,” Kaminari said. “I brought some more Blu-rays from home if ya guys wanna go watch movies in my room or somethin’. My roommate doesn’t come back ‘til Wednesday.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sero said.

Kirishima hummed his agreement around a mouthful of waffle. Not long after that, a certain blonde with hair that was somehow extra unruly and on of the sleepiest, grumpiest (and most adorable) faces Kirishima’d ever seen shuffled up with a plate full of eggs and bacon. He slumped into the seat beside Kirishima, all but dropping the plate before cracking open his bottle of Mountain Dew.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Kirishima greeted with a grin.

“Shut up,” Bakugou muttered before sucking down half the bottle of soda. “‘S too early.”

“It’s almost ten in the morning, man,” Kaminari said.

“Nah he’s right,” Sero agreed. “Too early.”

“It was only a couple weeks, guys. How’d ya manage to screw up your sleeping schedules so badly?”

“The fuckin’ schedule I have to be on here is what’s fucked up,” Bakugou said. “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up, anyway?”

“I figured I’d let you sleep in on the last day of break.”

Bakugou let out a disgruntled huff and dug right into his breakfast.

The boys were almost finished eating and the mess hall was almost finished clearing out by the time the girls finally arrived, both settling for blueberry bagels with cream cheese to eat. The three of them agreed that hanging out in Kaminari’s room for the day was a good option with the way the rest of the campus was a mess from everyone returning from break, so when they finished their breakfast and took a slight detour back to the girls’ dorm, Sero’s room, and Bakugou and Kirishima’s room to make sure everyone had what they wanted, they crashed Kaminari’s room.

The space was identical to Kirishima and Bakugou’s room, only flipped with the door and bathroom being on the opposite side. Once they’d all piled the pillows and blankets and things they’d brought from their own rooms into the space between the two beds and got comfortable, Kaminari plopped an entire duffel bag of just movies in front of them.

“Dude,” Sero said, already beginning to paw through it. “How come you brought so many?”

“‘Cause there’s a lot the school’s missing in both of the lounges, and most of those are still just DVDs, anyway. Plus, you’d be surprised how many movies Kyouka hasn’t seen.”

“I’m not going to apologize for spending my childhood learning instruments instead of mindlessly soaking up cartoons all day,” Jirou said.

“You don’t have to, babe, but that’s why I’m helping you catch up.” Kaminari punctuated the sentence with a wink, and Kirishima couldn’t help his slight smile despite the small pang of jealousy he held in his stomach—something he’d gotten used to over the past several months despite never having felt it before meeting Bakugou. He was happy for his friends— seriously happy—and before, that’s all he’d felt for them. Nowadays it seemed his mind had gotten into this awful (yet somehow wonderful) habit of picturing himself the way they were, and wanting the, er, Jirou to his Kami , for lack of a better way of putting it, to be only one specific person.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who didn’t grow up on kids’ movies, huh, Bakugou?” Mina pointed out.

The still-sleepy Bakugou looked up at her from his phone. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, clearly not in the mood.

In light of the dwindling, fading holiday spirit, Kaminari suggested The Nightmare Before Christmas first and immediately popped it into his laptop the second it was revealed that Jirou was the only one who hadn’t seen it all the way through.

“Even I have seen that shit,” Bakugou had muttered, barely looking up from his phone.

“At least she’s seen The Iron Giant ,” Mina pointed out.

Bakugou ignored her.

Not halfway through the movie, Kirishima decided snacks were a thing they definitely needed (ignoring the fact that they’d just eaten breakfast). It took little convincing to get Bakugou to go along with him, especially after he offered to make coffee.

“Fuck, I’m tired,” Bakugou grumbled as they were headed toward the lounge (that was clearly crowded and noisy, even from halfway down the hall).

“What time did you even get to sleep, man?”

“Dunno. Like three, maybe.”

“And I thought my sleeping schedule got screwed up over breaks,” Kirishima joked.

“Says the one who fell asleep before midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“Hey, I had a perfectly valid excuse.”

“...you’re a moron,” was all Bakugou could seem to think of to say. He was mid yawn when they snuck their way into the lounge kitchen and, much to their fortune, there was somehow still enough coffee left to make another pot. Bakugou tossed a bag of popcorn into one of the microwaves as Kirishima got the coffee started, and they scrounged up as many mini bags of chips as they could find—eight in total, that Bakugou somehow managed to fit into the pocket of his hoodie. “Great. Now I look fucking fat,” he huffed while Kirishima didn’t even bother to hold back his laughter at the protrusion.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with being fat, man,” Kirishima told him.

“...be quiet.”

⚜️

Somehow the six of them managed to power through four movies back to back, without Bakugou falling asleep. After his third cup of coffee ( black coffee, at that; Kirishima spent a good ten minutes wondering how he could drink it without any sort of sweetener and not gag), he seemed to be back to his usual, awake, and slightly irritable self.

“Guuuys, let’s take a break,” Mina half sighed, half complained as she stretched her arms over the head during the credits of the fourth movie.

“Agreed. I can only take so many movies one after the other before they start to blur together,” Sero said as he stood up. “Plus, I gotta piss.” He tiptoed over the blankets and escaped into the bathroom.

“Maybe we should see if there are any board games available,” Jirou suggested.

“Ugh. Can’t we do something else for once?” Mina mumbled.

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“I dunno,” she sighed. “I wish it was warmer out. I wanna go swimming or something… or take a walk. I was cooped up inside cooking and baking with my dad all break.”

“Uh… about that,” Kaminari said, tugging the thick, navy blue curtain aside a bit and drawing everyone’s attention to the gray light streaming in. On the other side of the window, delicate little snowflakes were steadily fluttering to the ground. Clearly it hadn’t been snowing long, but long enough for the sidewalks to be wet.

“Gross,” Bakugou said automatically.

“Aw man,” Mina said, peering pitifully outside. “The world just loves to spite me.”

“C’mon, Mina, what happened to your positive attitude?” Kirishima asked.

“It’s the last day of break, am I not allowed to be in a bad mood?” she mumbled, flopping across her pillow and burying her head into her arms.

“Whoa, who turned on the snow?” Sero asked as he emerged from the bathroom.

“Satan,” Bakugou answered.

“I thought Satan was all about fire and lava and stuff.” Sero plopped back into his spot.

“How the fuck would you know? You met him?”

“Hm, touche.”

“Oh shit, I think I have an idea on what we can do,” Kaminari said suddenly. He twisted himself around and stretched over to pull his backpack from the other side of the bed.

“Are… you gonna elaborate on that?” Jirou asked as he wordlessly shuffled through it.

“Just a sec…” He yanked one zipper shut and another open. “Ah! Here it is.” With a suspiciously sly grin, he pulled out a bright red box—a box of Pocky , to be specific.

“How is eating Pocky something to do?”

“Yeah, and I’m too full of popcorn as it is,” Mina said.

“‘S not for a snack. It’s a game.”

Five sets of incredulous eyes stared at him. “The fuck are you talking about?” Bakugou was the first to say.

“You guys have seriously never heard of the Pocky game?!”

“No?” Jirou said.

“Since when is Pocky a game?” Sero asked.

“Since, like, always. I think. I dunno when it was invented. So basically what you’re supposed to do--”

“Oh my god!” Mina exclaimed, suddenly popping up like a jack-in-the-box. “I think I know it! It’s where you basically kiss, right? After you eat the Pocky?”

“Huh?” Kirishima mumbled, somehow already feeling his throat constrict at the word kiss . He did not have a good feeling about this.

“Yeah, kinda,” Kaminari said. “One person puts one end of the Pocky in their mouth and then the other player takes the other end, and they keep biting it until they meet in the middle. The first to pull away is the loser.”

“...the fuck is this, some kind of middle schooler game?” Bakugou asked.

“Nah dude. Anyone can play it.”

“No shit? That’s not what I meant.”

“Aw c’mon, dude. ‘S pretty fun.”

“Yeah, for people who are dating , like you and Jirou!” Mina’s voice had jumped an octave. “None of the rest of us are, though.”

“Actually I think it’s more fun for people who aren’t .” It was impossible for Kirishima to miss the very pointed look his friend gave him when he said that, and his heart jumped straight into his throat. He knew right where Kaminari was going with this.

Oh shit.

“Me and Kyouka will do it anyway if you guys want,” he said. “And then we can draw names or something to see who else does it.”

“Nobody else agreed to this, though!”

Just when Kirishima thought Mina was coming to his rescue, Sero spoke up. “I dunno, I think it’d be kinda fun. I wanna see how ballsy you guys are.”

“...no offense you guys, but I don’t really… want to kiss anybody,” Mina continued. “It’s too personal.”

“That’s okay, Mina,” Jirou spoke up—finally. She was Kirishima’s last hope. “Denki’s being an idiot, anyway.”

“Hey! Does that mean you don’t wanna do it?”

“I can kiss you whenever I want, you adorkable idiot. I don’t need to use Pocky as an excuse.”

“But it’s fun,” he complained, and again Kirishima didn’t miss the way he nudged her knee with his hand. To anyone else it would’ve looked like a normal, everyday gesture, but Kirishima knew better. He knew Kami was trying to get Jirou to do it just so he could find a way to make him do it, too… but clearly not with Jirou.

It was hard to tell if she took the hint or not, though, when she took the Pocky from him and slid out one of the sticks. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.”

That earned her a big smile. Their little ‘game’ was over in seconds, and even Jirou’s cheeks were a bit pinkened by having had an audience.

“Who’s next?” Kami asked, holding up the box. His eyes landed directly on Kirishima, who hadn’t found the will to say anything nearly the entire time. “Kiri?”

“Uh… I’m good, man,” he managed to sputter.

“C’mon, bro, you’re the only other one of us who’s probably brave enough to do it,” Sero jumped in.

“I dunno, I think Baku’s pretty brave,” Mina said. Clearly they’d all caught on. Kirishima wanted to crawl under the bed behind him and pretend he didn’t exist.

“I don’t need your shitty game to prove that, though,” Bakugou muttered. He’d had his eyes on his phone for most of the time, but the screen was on the same page it’d been on when Kirishima had glanced over at it a few minutes ago.

“You guys should do it together, then,” Kaminari said with that grin that was eating Kirishima alive. He held out the box, dangling it between his fingers.

Kirishima, ten out of ten, was going to get this jackass back for this no matter what the outcome! And he’d recruit Bakugou’s help if he had to.

But right now he had to come up with a way out of this, and quick. He could just feel his deer-in-the-headlights look as he tried, tried so hard , to subtly shake his head at his friends. His heart—oh god, his heart felt like it was about to freaking explode !

But he couldn’t tell if Kami and Sero were just ignoring his silent pleas to not make him do this, or if they really were just oblivious to his desperation. Either way, they didn’t acknowledge him, and he just knew Kami was doing this because of the text conversation they had after bowling yesterday.

Kaminari had reminded him that he said he’d make a decision on what to do about his feelings for Bakugou after the break (like he’d forgotten— as if ), and Kirishima—almost shamefully—admitted that he hadn’t actually come to a conclusion yet.

>If you dont do something, i will ;)

>just gimme some more time, man

Kami hadn’t responded after that, nor had either of them spoke of it since.

Was this him ‘doing something’? Kirishima couldn’t take it.

“C’mon guys, it’s just a game! Don’t be chicken,” Kaminari said.

“I’m not a fucking chicken,” Bakugou growled.

“Then do it!”

“Kami—” Kirishima began, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck at his hairline. He could hardly believe this was seriously happening; could hardly wrap his head around the fact that Kaminari was so adamant about his doing this silly, middle schooler game with Bakugou, and was freaking pressuring him into it!

“You know you’ll do it if you’re a man,” Kaminari stated, reaching out further with the hand the box was in. That hit Kirishima right in the freaking ego, and he could physically feel himself shrinking back.

“Give me the damn box, you fucking prick,” Bakugou growled, reaching out and snatching the little package from Kaminari’s fingers.

“You guys don’t really have to do this,” Jirou reasoned.

“Yeah,” Mina agreed.

“Hey, don’t ruin the fun,” Sero piped up.

“All of you just shut the fuck up. I’m not letting Pikachu call me a chicken and get away with it.” He reached into the little bag and tugged out a stick, but because it was broken he took the liberty to chuck it right at Kaminari, who fumbled for it and then happily stuck it between his lips. When he grabbed a full one he tossed the box back onto the bed.

“Are… you sure about this, man?” Kirishima mumbled uneasily.

“Are you?” Bakugou shot back.

Everything within Kirishima screamed, yes!! But was he seriously ready for this? How far was Bakugou thinking they’d go? Kaminari already said the first to pull away was the loser; how proud was Bakugou that he’d go as far as it took to get Kirishima to pull away first? He’d already proven to be a pretty sore loser at most games… would this be just like that?

And shit… how proud was Kirishima ?

Before he could even find some sort of resolve within himself, his mouth was suddenly saying, “Yeah, alright.”

“Fine. Let’s… get this over with,” Bakugou muttered, and as soon as he placed the bare end of the pocky stick between his lips, it all suddenly became very real . Kirishima didn’t know how the hell he would survive this.

He was so aware of everything! Of his friends surrounding him, their eyes fixated on him and the one they knew he’d had feelings for for months know. Of how his heart was thudding so noisily there was a whoosh ing of the blood rushing behind his ears. Of how his stomach was in a knot—an anxious, nervous, somehow slightly excited knot. And, most importantly, of Bakugou, just half a foot away from him with that stick of chocolate Pocky sticking out between his lips.

Kirishima was pretty sure this was going to cause his death, and all he could think of as he somehow managed to make himself latch onto the other end of the Pocky, was how he’d haunt Kaminari’s ass for the rest of his life.

Crunch .

Bakugou was already moving. Was he even nervous? Did this not bother him at all? Was his pride really so important to him that he’d—

Crunch .

The flavor of chocolate filled Kirishima’s mouth when his teeth broke into the stick. Bakugou wasn’t pulling away. And somehow, neither was he.

Crunch .

What the hell was he supposed to do with the pieces of Pocky in his mouth if their lips touched?

Crunch .

Holy shit Bakugou was only a couple inches away now. His lips were right there , pierced and pink and soft.

Crunch .

Kirishima was sure he was about to go into cardiac arrest. There was only one little piece left, and then—

Crunch .

The last tiny piece of chocolate-covered Pocky slipped past Bakugou’s lips as they molded right against Kirishima’s. In that second he felt his heart stutter and literally skip a beat, and his mind went entirely blank.

He wanted to say he allowed himself to revel in the feeling of Bakugou’s warm lips pressing into his, the piercings between them somehow only enhancing the experience rather than being in the way, and how he was able to just lose himself in the moment of his first freaking kiss with Bakugou! But he hadn’t the time.

That instant where his heart had skipped a beat turned out to be the marker of time when he would later try to remember how long it lasted, because as soon as it stuttered into motion again Bakugou’s head was jerking back and Kirishima’s eyes were flying open before he’d even realized he’d closed them.

“Ha! Bakugou loses,” Kaminari shouted.

“Ohh, I kinda wasn’t expecting tha—“

Mina’s words were cut off by Bakugou shooting to his feet and, without a single word, storming out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him and leaving silence in his wake. Where it’d been in his throat before, Kirishima’s heart sunk way, way down into his stomach.

Bakugou

Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fuckingshit holyfuckingshit!!!

The hallway was practically a blur to Bakugou as he strode down it, back toward room 416. Pieces of that shitty Pocky were still in his mouth, and a tingling sensation was still on his lips as he walked.

Did that shit really just fucking happen? Am I fucking dreaming? What the fuck is going on?

His mind was fucking racing and he had no damn way of knowing how to collect himself. When he made it to the end of the hall he practically burst through the door to his room and then kicked it shut behind him, having half the mind to twist the lock. Only Kirishima would be able to come in—not that he expected anyone else to walk right in on him.

Dumb Hair…

Kirishima.

Kiri-fucking- shima !

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He liked that fucker. He liked him. Had some ridiculous, obnoxious, middle school fucking crush on his damn roommate. He liked that stupid, messy, barely even there “kiss” or whatever-the-fuck you wanted to call it. It’d been soft and warm and given him stupid, weird, awkward fucking butterflies and made his heart stutter like he needed a fucking pacemaker like some old asshole.

I have fucking feelings for that idiot! I’m fucking gay for him or someshit! What the fuck?!

It took every last little ounce of self-control Bakugou had not to start smacking things off tables and kicking whatever his feet could touch out of absolute frustration. His face was hot. His heart was pounding harder than ever. His stomach was in weird, fluttering knots and his knees were weak and jelly-like, but he kept pacing.

He had feelings for that beautiful bastard, and he wanted to fucking kiss him again. Jesus Christ , his lips had felt like a fucking dream—so impossibly smooth and warm, an absolutely perfect compliment to the flavor of chocolate; they felt like something he’d been waiting to experience his whole goddamn life.

And what the fuck did he do? He fucking yanked himself back like a moron, losing the stupid game fucking Pikachu pulled out of his ass. And yet for once he didn’t give a fuck about the loss—he gave a fuck about the fact that he’d just practically kissed his damn roommate and then stormed out like a goddamn child!

At some point he must’ve swallowed the damn Pocky, because it was gone when he hissed, “How fucking stupid can you be , Katsuki?!” Swiping the stress ball from his night table, he hurled it at the wall and let the satisfying thud calm his nerves, if just a little.

While it felt like so many thoughts and unanswered questions were swarming around his mind like wasps, one giant question overshadowed them all—the answer to which he feared.

How the fuck was this going to affect his friendship with Kirishima?

Maybe if he’d stayed. Maybe if he’d just pulled himself back, sent Pikachu the best glare he could muster and said, “Happy?” this shit would be no big deal. But no , he had to storm off. Had to freak out the second he felt Kirishima’s mouth meet his because of the unexpected warmth that’d spread throughout him. And in the midst of doing so, he probably hurt the little fucker’s feelings. If it’d been the other way around and Kirishima was the one to storm off, he knew for a fact that he’d taken the hit straight to his ego.

Fuck , he was an idiot! He swiped the ball off the floor, backed up, and snapped his wrist forward so it hurled into the wall again. Just as it bounced to the floor, a knock sounded at the door and his heart jumped.

“Fuck off,” he called, going for the ball again.

A familiar voice filtered through the door. “Bakugou?”

Shit . He did not expect Kirishima to follow him.

Retrieving the ball once more and taking a deep, grounding breath, he tugged the door open. “Forget your key?” he mumbled.

“Uh… no,” Dumb Hair mumbled. “I just… wanted to be sure it was cool if I came in.”

The little fucker looked… dejected. Embarrassed. Uneasy. His giant eyes were pools of liquid red, a slight crease set between his brow. His hair, hanging loosely and freely around his face and neck, was a bit disheveled and he held his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, reserved.

“‘S fine. It’s your room, too…” Bakugou moved back toward his bed, stopping only when his calves met the mattress. Despite giving him the room, Kirishima didn’t enter.

“...maybe I should’ve given you a little more time, but uh… I just wanted to come apologize,” Kirishima began slowly. Bakugou swore he felt it in his core when the other’s eyes locked with his.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” Bakugou plopped onto his bed, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. “ I’m the one who ran away like a fucking pussy.”

“Yeah, um…” Kirishima’s hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess I don’t really blame you, though. You were kinda pressured into it…”

“So were you. But ‘s not like you couldn’t have said no.”

“I know.” Dumb Hair swallowed and finally he stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut and pressing it closed with this back. “But you could’ve said no, too.”

Frustratedly, Bakugou ran a hand through his hair and scratched at his scalp. “Yeah,” was all he managed to say.

Silence fell over, and Bakugou knew he was just breathing in the awkwardness. Fucking say something, you idiot, he chided himself.

Kirishima, as usual, beat him to it. “Well… okay, hey. Can I just be honest for a sec?”

Bakugou gave a sharp, jerky nod.

“It… it wasn’t bad. I mean, all things considered…” He trailed off like he wasn’t sure of himself, like he wasn’t sure of exactly what he was saying. “At least, I didn’t think so.”

Bakugou found himself nodding in agreement. “I didn’t either,” he mumbled.

Kirishima nodded, too, and for too damn long. “Uhm… a-are we good, then? Like… still friends?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou told him. “‘S no big deal, I guess.”

Instantly Dumb Hair relaxed and some semblance of that smile— god , that fucking smile —returned, though it was a bit tainted by the uneasiness they both clearly still felt. “Cool. So, I honestly don’t really wanna go back there… so you wanna go see if the lounge has cleared up a bit and play some Smash Bros or whatever?”

Bakugou’s response was to toss his stress ball over his shoulder onto his bed and stand up. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

To their fortune, the lounge had cleared out a bit because of dinner time and one of the smaller TVs was open. Wordlessly they set up the game and dove into the game, and Bakugou channeled all his frustration into it.

He honest-to-fuck didn’t know what the fuck to do with this shitty new revelation. Didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to handle the feelings that’d suddenly come forth full force on him—feelings he knew he’d been suppressing for months. Was he fucking gay? But he still liked to look at girls… sometimes. There were sexualities other than gay and straight, right? But shit—the only guy he’d ever fucking fallen for was the red-haired asshole next to him. But shit—was Kirishima the only one he’d ever fallen for? Sure, he liked to look at people in the past, but he’d never… felt like this. So warm inside, like his insides were vibrating simply in Dumb Hair’s presence, like he could melt into a puddle on the floor from just a simple look from the idiot.

He didn’t fucking know . What he did know, however, was that he was starting to make himself dizzy from thinking about it too damn much. There was so fucking much to consider and no answers to any of the questions.

All he could do was hope (in vain) that he’d somehow manage to suppress the feelings again before they fucked him over in the end.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Kirishima couldn’t get the feeling of Bakugou’s lips—his lips —out of his mind. That moment when the last of the Pocky broke between them and he felt that warmth against his mouth was in every single one of his waking thoughts, torturing him. Making him crave more of that. Making him want to kiss Bakugou more—a lot more, even if it was after chewing slowly through a stick of chocolate Pocky. Hell, Kirishima didn’t even really like chocolate Pocky! He was more of a strawberry guy. But he swore if that was what it took to feel those damn soft lips press into his again, even just once, he’d go on an all-chocolate Pocky diet.

But man ! He was still having serious trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he and Bakugou had kissed ! If he was being honest, he’d pictured it more times than he’d care to admit, but having it actually happen was a whole different thing. He always imagined it happening further into the future, in a hypothetical situation after he’d found the courage to ask Bakugou out and he’d said yes… not on the floor of Kaminari’s room because of what was basically some stupid dare.

He’d been avoiding Kaminari and Sero. He left their text messages unanswered and avoided the mess hall with Bakugou during breakfast and lunch, eating elsewhere. Bakugou stuck with him. It was unspoken between them what they were doing, but neither of them needed to say anything about it. In fact, they were purposely avoiding that particular subject, even if it was the elephant in the room.

Things changed between the two after the dumb Pocky game. There was a certain amount of uneasiness in the air between them whenever they were together, yet somehow it wasn’t inherently bad . In fact, more often Kirishima found himself noticing when their arms would accidentally brush together; where before Bakugou would walk with a foot or more of distance between them, now there was hardly any, and rarely did he keep his hands pocketed anymore, resulting in their knuckles unintentionally bumping together. And Kirishima left his board in the closet, even though the snow never picked up enough to do anything but wet the sidewalk and there was no reason he shouldn’t bring it. He was more than happy to walk along next to his roommate.

To no surprise, Bakugou planted himself in the seat right beside Kirishima when he strolled into their environmental science class the first day that semester—though, Kirishima totally had put his backpack in the seat to keep anyone from taking it before his roommate showed up. And despite there being a whole five feet of table, he sat so close that their knees rested together. After the third day in a row of this, it was evident to Kirishima that this wasn’t an accident.

Kirishima didn’t know how much more of all this he could take. Bakugou made him feel like… like his bones themselves were melting, like his heart was going to burst right out of his chest… like he himself was just going to freaking explode . And now that he was so much closer…

With a huff, he turned and twisted the knob to turn off the shower. He’d been in there so long, just thinking and thinking and thinking way too much that the water temperature was starting to run cold. After running a towel through his hair and then throwing it around his waist he picked up his phone and sent a text to Mina.

>I think i’m going crazy

Her response was instantaneous.

>Baku?

>Yeah

>Need to talk about it?

>Think so. You busy?

>I’m kinda with Kami and Jirou rn, but I can make an excuse to get away

>Nah, i’ll come meet you guys. Should probably talk to him too. Where are you?

>Game room

>Be there in 15

>Kay

Quickly, Kirishima rubbed his towel through his hair, tossed it carelessly over the towel rack, and got dressed. Bakugou hadn’t moved from the lazy position on his bed while he watched YouTube videos when Kirishima opened the door, and he didn’t look up when Kirishima re-entered the room, either. A muted, barely-there smile had graced Bakugou’s features as a result of whatever he was watching, and though he expected it, Kirishima would never get used to the weird jump his stomach did every time he saw that gorgeous smile, no matter how small.

Kirishima waited until Bakugou was between videos as he combed through his hair to speak up. “Hey, uh…” Automatically the other’s eyes lifted to his. “Mina… asked me to help her with something, so I’m gonna go meet up with her, ‘kay?”

Bakugou’s responding grunt was one of affirmation as he flopped over onto his back and held his phone above his head, scrolling through his feed as he did so.

“Don’t drop it on your face,” Kirishima joked as he slipped on his shoes, pocketed his key, and opened the door.

“Fuck you,” Bakugou called after him light-heartedly. Kirishima was still chuckling as he started down the hall.

Kirishima almost regretted not grabbing his hoodie on the way out, though it was still on Bakugou’s bed and underneath him from the other day when he’d let him borrow it the after it had snowed because his was in the laundry. Though it’d been only a few days ago, it was considerably warmer now; still, the late evening air was cooling off from the sun going down, and Kirishima’s wet hair definitely wasn’t helping. He couldn’t bring himself to regret letting Bakugou borrow it, though.

His trip halfway across campus to the game room was fairly quick, and save for a few other people occupying the pool table, the only ones inside were Mina, Kaminari, and Jirou over at the air hockey table. From the looks of things, Jirou was kicking Kaminari’s ass—again, to no one’s surprise.

As soon as she saw him, Mina sprang up and bounded in his direction. “Hey, loverboy,” she teased with a wink.

“What?” he mumbled. Already he could feel the heat creeping to his face and with everything he had he willed it away.

“Nothin’,” she giggled, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. “C’mon. Let’s go watch Kami get his butt kicked for the thousandth time this year.” Easily, she tugged him in the direction of clack, clack, clack ing near the corner of the room and they plopped down onto the nearby couch to wait out the game.

For once, Jirou’s victory came only by a few points, proving that Kaminari was finally starting to catch up to her. Still, he clearly had quite a ways to go before he had the hope of besting, or even tying her.

“It’s my goal to beat you before the school year ends,” he told her with a confident—almost cocky—smirk.

“We’ll see about that,” she challenged.

It was only then when they seemed to notice Kirishima’s presence. “Oh hey, man. When’d you show up?”

“Long enough ago to see you get your butt kicked. Again,” Kirishima told him.

Usually Kirishima knew Kaminari would throw a defensive remark right back at him, but this time he did nothing more than scratch his head and mumble a “right…”

“Kiri said he needs to talk. About Bakugou,” Mina said.

“Um, yeah… can I, uh, say somethin’ first, though?” Kaminari asked.

“Sure, man,” Kirishima said.

Kaminari’s shoulders were hunched as he spoke; already his gaze was apologetic—even guilty, almost. “Look, dude, I’m really sorry for the other day… with the whole dumb Pocky thing. I shouldn’t have pressured you like that, I guess I just thought it’d be kinda funny, but it was seriously uncool of me.”

A small pang of guilt hit Kirishima in the chest. In the back of his mind he’d been afraid Kaminari would tell him something along the lines of “you should be thanking me” or “you’re welcome” for what went down between him and Bakugou, but he seriously should’ve known his friend better than that.

“Also,” Kaminari continued before Kirishima could come up with something to say, “I wanna apologize to Bakugou too, if you can talk him into letting me talk to him.”

“It’s alright, dude. Sorry for avoiding you so much. I’ve just had a lot on my mind since it happened. And yeah, I’ll tell him,” Kirishima said with a smile.

“Thanks, bro.” Kaminari held out his fist, which Kirishima promptly bumped his own into. “We good?”

“Yup.”

“Soooo,” Mina said, bouncing a bit in her seat as she’d turned her entire body to face Kirishima, that telltale sparkle in her eyes. “Since it did happen, you wanna talk about it, huh?” she asked, eyebrows waggling. Kaminari and Jirou planted themselves on the floor in front of them, Kami leaning against the air hockey table with Jirou in his lap, an arm hooked around his neck.

“Well, erm… sort of, but not exactly,” Kirishima said, beginning to spin his phone between his fingers in a nervous fidget.

“Whattaya mean?”

“Since the whole… thing happened, Baku’s been acting different. But not bad different,” he began, really wishing he’d been thinking of what to say on the way there. But of course he hadn’t—his thoughts had been filled with that tiny grin Bakugou’d had when he stepped out of the bathroom until the second he walked into the game room.

“Then different how?” Jirou was the one to question.

With a deep breath, Kirishima laid out Bakugou’s actions, between the walking closer to sitting super close to him in their science class. It wasn’t much, he realized as he told them, but it was pretty damn profound—that he could tell just by the looks on his friends faces, particularly the bright sparkles in Mina’s eyes.

“Shit,” Kaminari said. “And I kinda thought my stupid idea would’ve had the opposite effect…”

“I guess not…” Kirishima said. “I sorta did, too… at least at first,” he admitted. “But after we talked it out after it happened, everything kinda… escalated.”

“Um… what do you think it means?” Mina asked; clearly she was trying not to be too pushy or overly excited, but judging by the fists held in her lap it was evident she was having trouble containing herself. Still, he appreciated it.

“Hell, man, I don’t even know myself,” Kirishima said. “It’s pretty hard to ignore, and I have been taking all the stuff you guys have said over the past several months into consideration, y’know? And I think maybe I was just being blind ‘cause I’m afraid of rejection.”

“So do you believe us?” An excited kind of hope filled Mina’s voice. “That he likes you? Finally?”

Kirishima didn’t answer right away and took to chewing his lip in thought instead. He knew he had to be at least somewhat careful with his words or there would be an explosion (though, with Mina’s excitable nature around, that was bound to happen no matter what he said—that was of course unless he lied and said no).

“Actually, I think I do,” he said finally.

As expected, a squeal sounded from the girl and she threw her arms around his shoulders, her bouncing shaking the entire couch and her excitement catching the attention of the others across the room. In the same instant, a wide grin spread across Jirou’s face and Kaminari fist-pumped the air.

“It’s about time!” Mina laughed in his ear; all he could do was laugh a bit himself and pat her back, trying to ease her excitement more than anything else.

“Okay, okay,” he told her, his grin only widening when she pulled back enough for him to see her face again. His whole body felt alive with nervous but excited butterflies.

“Next step: ask him out!” she declared, a finger in the air.

“W-wait? So soon?”

“Soon?!” Jirou asked, backhanding his knee. “It’s been months , Kirishima!”

“And with everything you just told us, it’s almost like he’s waiting for you to ask him!” Mina said.

“You think so?”

“Jesus Christ, dude! Why are you so dense? Not even I’m that bad!” Kaminari huffed, his head thunking back against the side of the air hockey table.

“He’s kinda right,” Jirou admitted, if a bit sheepishly.

“Oh man…” Kirishima scratched at his head. “You really think I should do it right away?”

“Yes!” the three of them said together.

“Like, right now ? And how? I’ve never done it before. And shouldn’t I have some sort of plan first, like to go on an actual date? And what if he says no? What am I supposed to do after that? And—”

“He’s not gonna say no, Kirishima,” Mina said, matter of fact. “Maybe not right now. But soon. Like, by the end of the week soon, so that you can plan whatever you wanna do for this weekend when he says yes.”

This weekend . Holy shit, it seemed so close. It was only Wednesday, but that still only gave him two— maybe three—days to figure all this out. Kirishima was already having a hard time wrapping his head around all this; he was seriously thinking about doing this, about finally asking Bakugou out—the guy he’s had a serious damn crush on since practically the second he met him. He’d pictured himself with the guy about a million times, but now that it was about to probably, maybe, hopefully become a reality, it felt absolutely insane!

“Okay then… I-I guess I should come up with date ideas first?” he mumbled. “But I don’t really want it to be something typical. I don’t think Bakugou would be down for that.”

“Oh, what about that music festival thing you told me about, babe?” Kaminari asked.

“Right! There’s a live music festival happening at that outdoor mall a couple miles from here on Saturday. It’s mostly a bunch of local bands, but admission is free,” Jirou said. “Think he’d like something like that?”

Kirishima could just feel himself perk up. “Yeah, actually. He’s told me about a bunch of concerts he’s been to. What kind of music is it s’posed to be?”

“All sorts of stuff, but I think it’ll mostly be alternative and rock stuff.”

Kirishima nodded thoughtfully. Bakugou liked rock—and more so since Kirishima had been sharing a bunch of his own music with the guy. His go-to was more on the metal side, but he tended to keep an open mind about it. Besides, a music festival was pretty harmless for a first date, he thought; he knew he would definitely agree to something like that.

“That sounds good,” he said. “Now I just gotta figure out how to ask him…”

“Why not just be straight up?” Kaminari suggested.

“Aw, but I think Kiri should be more creative about it,” Mina said.

“Then what are your ideas, Miss Pinky?”

Their banter faded to the back of Kirishima’s attention as he pondered himself, wracking his brain. He agreed that the way he asked should be more creative than something simple and straightforward; even if that was more Bakugou’s style, it wasn’t necessarily Kirishima’s , and he wanted to take his roommate off guard when he did it.

And yet, as usual, all he could seem to think of were memes. Why his brain always reverted back to silly internet pictures was a mystery to him, but—

“Holy shit,” he said.

Instantly, the others’ conversation came to a halt and three sets of eyes landed right on him. “What?” they chorused together.

“I know how I’mma do it.”

“How?”

“A meme.”

⚜️

Come Friday, Kirishima was on edge all day and had trouble concentrating in class, especially seventh period science. He couldn’t find it within himself to stop anxiously bouncing his leg, knowing just what he had planned for the end of eighth period.

He had it all ready. The photo was the latest one in his camera roll, and he planned on sending it about half an hour after the final bell without going straight to his room. Fortunately he had an excuse not to, seeing as he’d volunteered to help his eighth period teacher with making homework packets while he went to a meeting. It gave him the time and distance he needed; as much as he might’ve liked to see the initial reaction on Bakugou’s face when he saw the image, he knew he was too chicken shit to actually be there, to send it to him when they were in the same room.

Fortunately, Bakugou didn’t seem to notice anything off about him during science. Somehow, though, it was easier to stay calm when he was there, while his knee was resting right up against Kirishima’s as normal. It was the only thing keeping him from doing the leg bouncing thing, and after their usual parting fist bump when they went their separate ways before eighth period, he felt more confident in himself (especially because Bakugou was starting to return his smiles with the fist bump whether he realized it or not, and it’d given him insane butterflies every time).

Stapling the packets together turned out to be completely mundane and was nothing more than repetition, leaving his mind to wander, to fly through as many different scenarios he could come up with once he hit the send button. While somehow he could picture what felt like a thousand different ways Bakugou would turn him down, ranging from an easy letdown to complete, angry rejection that would end their friendship, too, the scenarios in which he agreed left Kirishima with a phantom happiness that wouldn’t allow him to chicken out.

Once he was finished with the packets, he planned to head to the art room and grab a few supplies to continue work on concept sketches for the bottom of his new board. If there was anything that could calm his nerves, it was art.

The last thing Kirishima did before leaving the room was hold his breath, pull up the image, and hope for the best as he tapped send.

Bakugou

The heel of Bakugou’s hand was smashed into his cheek out of sheer boredom of stupid Deku and the weird half-and-half bastard along with Pink Cheeks and the frog girl, and he was beginning to wonder why he’d decided to hang out with these losers again in the first place. For once it was finally a nice fucking day, and because all of the other, better losers were off doing shit—Sero making up some test, Pikachu and Jirou off together… somewhere (gross), Pinky with some of her girl friends, and Dumb Hair helping some teacher after eighth period—and he didn’t wanna be the idiot sitting at a table alone, he’d opted to stick himself with these morons. Half-and-half—er, Todoroki , or whatever, was busy drawing some weird shit on Deku’s hand while the girls watched, and Bakugou himself was going back and forth between YouTube videos on his phone and being bored with them.

It wasn’t until his phone buzzed with a notification from redriot did things finally start to get interesting.

At first he didn’t really get what he was looking at. It was there, in front if him, and he knew what it was , but what the actual fuck did it mean? He squinted at it for a good, long minute, trying to figure out if it meant what he thought it did.

It was a picture of himself—one taken right from his Instagram, and one that he’d posted over winter break when he’d been bored at three in the morning. Below it was this:

(see it here)

“Are you alright, Kacchan?”

Deku’s voice broke Bakugou out of his racing thoughts and brought him to the realization that his forehead was starting to ache from frowning so damn hard. Without a thought, he twisted the phone to face the others.

“The fuck does this mean?”

Even Todoroki paused in his drawing and leaned in to see the screen.

“Is that from Kirishima?” Deku asked.

“Yeah.”

In the next second, fucking Pink Cheeks started giggling, and Frog Girl wasn’t far behind her. Even Deku grinned while Todoroki gave him a hopeless look.

“What?!” he spat.

“Do you… really not get it?” Deku asked; clearly the little fucker was holding back his own laughter, and Bakugou was two damn seconds away from punching those shitty freckles right off of his damn face!

“Obviously fucking not, you dweeb!” he said.

“Uhm… it looks like Kirishima’s trying to ask you out, Kacchan… uh, using a meme, I guess?” He reached up with his free hand to scratch his head.

Are you fucking kidding me?

He wasn’t fucking stupid. That’s what he’d thought . He just… didn’t know if he could believe it. He wanted to say it felt sudden and that it hardly made sense but fuck , that would be a lie. After the past several days since that shitty Pocky game stupid Pikachu pressured them into playing, he found himself getting closer, and not just when it came to their relationship. Physically . At first it’d been completely subconscious and unintentional but shit, he couldn’t shake the feeling of liking being so close to dumb hair, so he hadn’t stopped himself.

And neither had Kirishima. Add that on top of all the stupid (but kind of cute, if he was being honest) memes (a fuckton of which were flirty , but that he’d just brushed off and chalked up to a number of other things) and the fact that Dumb Hair did supposedly have some sort of crush on someone (‘you-know-who’, as Bakugou recalled from Sero) and the fact that Pikachu probably knew it and pulled out the Pocky with a plot in mind...

Holyshit holyshit holy shit !!

Bakugou was pretty sure he was about to explode, and the combustion would start in his racing heart.

“Gotta go,” he muttered, yanking the phone back and standing up to head back to the dorm without a backwards glance. From there he practically stormed across the damn campus, weaving his way around anyone who got in his way and ignoring any dirty looks send his way. He needed to confront Kirishima about this, and now .

And yet as soon as he made it to the entrance to the boys’ dorm that was right near his room, he slowed down, even paused with his hand on the handle to yank the door open. It wasn’t like Bakugou Katsuki to get nervous—about anything —and yet there he was, with a strange uneasiness surrounding him, butterflies filling his stomach and his heart racing at a million goddamn miles an hour. What the fuck was he eve supposed to say to Dumb Hair when he saw him? Was he just supposed to give him a straight answer? What the hell did that fucker expect?

Fuck , he needed to stop thinking so much. He needed to find Kirishima and ask him what the fuck he meant, and if the idiots Bakugou had just ditched were right in interpreting it.

When he finally mustered the balls to push the door to his room open, he found Kirishima just dropping his backpack in its usual place next to his bed. Clearly he’d just gotten back, too, and he didn’t notice Bakugou’s presence until he turned around and saw him standing in the doorway, gripping the knob with white knuckles.

Just seeing the little fucker’s face caused Bakugou to forget how to speak. All the questions that’d been swarming through his mind vanished. He didn’t even know where to begin.

“Uhm… hey, Bakugou,” said Kirishima, a nervous edge to his tone that likewise made itself known in his slight, crooked smile.

“...hey,” Bakugou managed after a thick swallow. And Jesus fuck , if Shitty Hair couldn’t hear his racing heart from all the way across the room he’d be damned.

“Are… you alright, dude?”

Was this asshole planning on playing stupid?

Bakugou found his hands to be shaking, just slightly, when he yanked his phone back out. The message was still up on the screen when he unlocked it, and he thrust it in Kirishima’s direction. “The fuck is this supposed to mean?” he blurted, hoping to high fucking hell that the heat filling his neck, his cheeks, his ears wasn’t actually visible—that he wasn’t beet fucking red like Pikachu had been the other day.

Somehow, Dumb Hair relaxed a bit, his smile widening. His ears were pinker than normal, that was for fucking sure, and his eyes dropped to the floor. “Um… well…” he started slowly, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. After a second his eyes flicked back up to Bakugou’s. “I was… kinda hopin’ you’d be down to… maybe, uh…” He cleared his throat, clearly having trouble getting the question out. “...to go on a date with me?”

Bakugou couldn’t tell if Kirishima’s voice cracked a little on the word ‘date’ or if he’d just imagined it, but fuck , he couldn’t get over how damn cute the idiot was, head inclined a bit as he peered up at him from underneath his eyelashes and that tiny scar on his right eyelid, one hand still on his neck while the other rested in his pocket and the subtlest, lightest dusting of a rosy pink across the apples of his cheeks.

Bakugou nearly dropped his phone when his arm fell back to his side. Blood was rushing in his ears so loudly he was questioning whether or not he’d even heard Kirishima right, or if he was even awake .

All the memes. All the stupid teasing from the other losers. All the subtle little compliments from him that Bakugou had brushed off and chalked up to his being the nice guy he was. The fact that Kirishima never pulled away when their shoulders or hands brushed, when their legs rested together underneath the table or when they sat probably a little closer than what was normal when studying together or were next to each other during meals or in the lounge. The fact that he’d agreed to do that god forsaken Pocky game with him, hadn’t pulled away, and even said he didn’t think it was bad. It’d all been so much fucking more than that .

Bakugou was an idiot. He was the you-know-who. On some level he’d known that—known that the weird, Voldemort looking fucker he’d been picturing in place next to Kirishima as the person he’d had some sort of middle school crush on or whatever—was him . And standing there now with Kirishima looking at him like that, with those big eyes he’d unknowingly been falling for over the past several months, he had no idea why he’d been denying it.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima mumbled, his hand falling back to his side and stuffing into his pocket like the other when Bakugou hadn’t responded, and thus breaking him out of his shitty mind babble.

And then the answer was pouring out of Bakugou’s mouth without a second thought. “Fuck yeah, I wanna go on a date with you.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou

It was effing weird to brush your teeth in the middle of the day, Bakugou couldn’t help thinking as he did just that. But he wasn’t about to go on his first fuckin’ date with Dumb Hair (and, well, ever ) with the smell of his breakfast still on his breath.

I’m going on a date… with Kiri-fucking-shima.

Bakugou was getting damn tired of those words spinning around and around his head; they’d kept him up a good portion of the night just anticipating the whole damn thing while Dumb Hair himself seemed to sleep like a freaking log across the room. He still had no idea how to fully wrap his head around the fact that the little fucker had been legitimately flirting with him for the past several months. Hell, he couldn’t even fathom how he himself had apparently been developing (not so) shitty feelings for the guy without even realizing it.

But now he had. And he was rinsing his toothbrush off at nearly noon to get ready to go to some music festival Jirou had supposedly told Kirishima about. The second Bakugou had agreed to go (though honestly, he wouldn’t have cared much what Dumb Hair had planned, he just wanted to go on the damn date and be with the loser—and be alone with him), Kirishima’s eyes lit up like he was seeing daylight for the first time, and Bakugou felt his insides turn straight to mush at the sight.

It was fucking gross. He loved it.

Bakugou was in the middle of touching up his eyeliner when the door to the room swung open and in stumbled Kirishima himself, a black umbrella hanging from his fingertips.

“So Sero only had one umbrella,” he said a bit breathlessly. Had the idiot been rushing? “And since Kami and Jirou are going to the festival too, theirs are in use.”

Bakugou snapped his eyeliner pencil shut, stuck it back in the cabinet, and strolled out of the bathroom where Kirishima was, once again, rummaging through the closet for the umbrella he supposedly had (and lost). His hair, for once hanging down instead of up in its usual spiky array, was a bit disheveled, and Bakugou unknowingly grinned—if only slightly—at the sight. If he was being honest, he sort of preferred Kirishima with his hair down; he looked a lot softer, which suited him.

“I still can’t find mine,” he mumbled, shutting the door with a sigh. “Hm… I can go see if Midoriya or Todoroki has—”

“‘S fine,” Bakugou cut in, grabbing the one umbrella from his bed and tossing it up to catch it.

“Are you sure? Midoriya’s room isn’t super far, so I can—”

“I’m fuckin’ sure, Shitty Hair. If it rains we’ll just share this one or whatever.”

Kirishima was so damn easy . Just like that the distressed crease on his forehead smoothed out into an easy smile. “Alright. Then, um, ready to go?”

“Just gotta get my wallet.” Bakugou tossed the umbrella to the other and then swiped the wallet from his dresser before easily stuffing his feet into his shoes before heading out the door in front of the other.

⚜️

The bus stop was empty when they arrived and the two took their seats on the end of the bench. Though the walk hadn’t been long, it’d been quiet.

“So what kinda music is this s’posed to be, anyway?” Bakugou asked to fill the silence.

“Jirou said it’s supposed to mostly be rock and stuff. Here…” Kirishima slid out his phone. “She sent me a list of bands that’ll be there. I guess they’re all just amateur, and most of them are local. I don’t know any, but maybe you will.” He handed the device over, and Bakugou barely skimmed the list. None of the names that did stick rang a bell, but he wasn’t worried about it. He was just glad it wasn’t some country bullshit.

It wasn’t until the bus showed up shortly after and they climbed on together—Kirishima of course paying for the damn fare—that Bakugou started to feel the nerves, that it was just starting to sink in what they were doing, that this wasn’t just a day of usual hanging out—it was a date . Something couples did. He knew that for certain from the conversation after Kirishima had asked him out. After he had, and Bakugou had (more than) readily agreed, Kirishima’s eyes about popped right out of his damn skull.

“Wait, really?” he’d blurted.

“No, I just said that for shits and giggles!” Bakugou half-shouted. “Yes really, dumbass!”

After a few seconds of blinking like an idiot, the fucker’s face broke out into one of the biggest, brightest goddamn smiles Bakugou had ever seen. It’d squished his cheeks into his eyes, wrinkling the outer corners of them and showed all of his stupid teeth. Bakugou could practically feel the happy energy radiating off of him. And Jesus fuck he was adorable; how the shit could Bakugou make someone so damn happy?

After that Kirishima had gone on to tell him about the music festival Pikachu had told him about, but had asked him what he wanted to do. Honestly, Bakugou genuinely didn’t give a shit what they did , as long as they were together (even though he’d never admit that aloud).

Dumb Hair was in the middle of mapping out his plan for them—it’d be the very next day, and they’d go just after noon once the lines to get in had probably died down, and they could get food afterwards—when he’d cut himself off and looked up at Bakugou with that nervous habit of scratching the back of his neck.

“Um… you get that I mean for this to be a date date, r-right?” he questioned in a mumble.

He’s such an idiot , Bakugou thought. “Yes, moron.”

The answer, despite the insult, manifested another one of those damn cheesy smiles, even if it wasn’t big as before. “Then… if I said I maybe wanna hold your hand or somethin’, would you be okay with it?”

Bakugou’s heart did a weird stutter and then took off galloping again. “...sure,” he mumbled, pretending his face wasn’t growing warm.

Of course, Shitty Hair insisted that he’d be the one paying for dinner—Bakugou’s choice, he said—since he was the one to ask. Bakugou couldn’t help being appreciative of how gentlemanly Kirishima was, even if it could be kind of annoying at times.

When the bus came to a stop and the doors slid open they could already hear the bass and drums of the music festival down a few blocks. Already Bakugou liked what he heard even though it sounded more Kirishima’s speed, softer than what he usually tended to listen to.

It didn’t take long to follow the small crowd down the road to the makeshift entrance set up at the end of a block where a stoplight had temporarily been shut down. The security guard at the gate let them pass, along with several other people—a few of which are clearly on dates, too—without a word, and from there there was nothing but a road full of music and people.

Small stages and merch tents extended down the road for at least half a mile, in the parking lots of small buildings and tucked into smaller, blocked off roads. Only a few of the stages were occupied by musicians, spaced out long enough so their sets didn’t interfere too much with each other. In between a few of the stages and tents were concession stands, selling anything from popcorn and candy to full pizzas and other fried foods.

“Where d’you wanna go first?” Kirishima asked.

“Don’t care,” Bakugou told him. “You decide, since you’re makin’ me decide everything else.”

Dumb Hair chuckled lightly, beginning to swing the umbrella around by the string, “Mkay. Let’s just walk for a bit, then… see if anything grabs our attention.”

So walk they did. Fortunately the road wasn’t quite as crowded as it looked, which made it a lot easier to dodge other people.

Bakugou did his best to pretend he didn’t feel the slight awkwardness between them as they wandered, stopping at a few of the active stages, especially with the damn near overwhelming urge to grab Kirishima’s hand every time their knuckles bumped as they walked closely to one another. The music did well, as they watched, to keep the lack of conversation between them from getting too stupidly awkward, and yet he was still actively looking for something to say.

But what the fuck was there?! A lot, he was sure; he and Dumb Hair had spent hours before lost in conversation together, and yet this was different. Because it was a date . And because Bakugou’d never been on one of these damn things before, he hadn’t the slightest goddamn clue as to what to say… or how to act.

So they kept walking.

Some of the bands were a little too soft for his tastes, and even Kirishima was steering clear of them, coaxing Bakugou along through the crowd with light, almost blissful smiles on his face. Though Bakugou wasn’t much one for the crowd and was mildly annoyed by the cloud cover and chilly air, he was honestly just happy to be with this loser, with the intention of just being with him and that was it, whether Kirishima was planning to hold true to his word and eventually reach for Bakugou’s hand or not (though, admittedly, Bakugou wanted him to, to a degree that surprised even him).

It wasn’t until Bakugou felt the first frigid raindrop pelt him in the cheek did things took a turn for the more interesting—and that was a damn good thing. Like an idiot, he tilted his head back and looked up, squinting irritatedly at the gray, overcast sky.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, swiping the moisture from his skin. Sure enough, big drops of cold rain were beginning to come down.

“Aw crap,” Kirishima mumbled from beside him.

It seemed like it only took seconds for it to be a fucking downpour. Bakugou snapped his hood up while Kirishima fumbled with the umbrella, all the while ducking through the rain toward the nearest merch tent that people were already crowding under. The music didn’t stop and a few idiotic people remained in front of the stages, seemingly totally oblivious to or in bliss by the rain.

Bakugou, of course, was more than a little annoyed by it and the fact that once they made it, there wasn’t any more room beneath the merch tent to get out of it and so ducked under a nearby tree, though it provided little shelter. It was only then when Kirishima finally figured out the stupid umbrella and handed it over. He’d been so busy fidgeting with it that he hadn’t even put his hood up and his hair was already starting to drip from the ends.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked when he took a step back, pulling his hood into place when he was out from under the little bit of coverage the umbrella provided.

“Putting my hood on?” Dumb Hair mumbled stupidly.

“Get the fuck back here, idiot.” Bakugou grabbed him by the shoulder of his hoodie and yanked him back under the umbrella, adjusting its position so it covered at least their heads. Kirishima stumbled towards him, but when they bumped together Bakugou didn’t let him pull away again. “I told you we’d share, stupid.”

Bakugou swore that if Kirishima somehow had power over the weather, the damn sun would break right out from behind the thick gray clouds dumping buckets on them because of his responding smile. “You’re right. My bad,” he said, and Bakugou swore he felt himself die a little on the inside because of the beautiful motherfucker in front of him. “But uhm, hey… your eyeliner’s running a little bit,” he went on.

“What? Seriously?” Automatically Bakugou swiped at his wet cheeks, his skin cold, and sure enough black smudges came away on his fingers. “Fucking hell. This shit’s supposed to be waterproof,” he hissed, rubbing at his cheeks more.

“Stop, stop,” Dumb Hair laughed, reaching up to pull his hand away. “You’re makin’ it worse.”

“Then fuckin’ fix it for me!”

“Okay, okay!” Kirishima’s hands came up to gently wipe at Bakugou’s cheeks with his sleeves. Even through the fabric and despite the cold-ass weather, his hands were warm and felt weirdly nice against Bakugou’s cool skin. And fuck, his face was right there , those deep, liquid scarlet eyes flicking back and forth between Bakugou’s cheeks to make sure he got all of the smudges. Overwhelming, completely foreign urges washed over him harsher than the rain and when he realized just what the hell he was thinking, Dumb Hair’s hands dropped from his face. “There,” he said. “Think I got it all. But ‘s kinda uneven around your eyes now.”

Bakugou jerked his head back a little, swallowing hard. “...that figures,” he mumbled absently. “Won’t be buying that shit again.”

“Wanna go see if one of those shops down there has a bathroom you can use?” Kirishima nodded down the road a ways where a line of buildings sat--clearly shops meant for tourists.

“Might as well. ‘S not like this tree is helping for shit.”

While somehow remaining huddled under the umbrella as best they could, the two jogged down the road to the nearest shop where people had already taken refuge from the rain and were mulling around, most of them clearly window shopping and hardly interested in anything the store had to offer.

“Fuck,” Bakugou muttered, glaring at the sign posted just inside the door that read Bathroom use for customers only.

“Huh? Oh… here. I’ll go buy a candy bar from the counter real quick,” Kirishima said. He trudged across the floor with his wet shoes and did just that, and Bakugou made sure to keep his face as hidden as he could by lowering his head. It wasn’t like he really gave a fuck what other people thought of his likely smudged-to-hell eyeliner, but he did.

And of course, it was smudged to hell he discovered when he got into the tiny, one person bathroom in the corner of the shop and was forced to get rid of nearly all of it, leaving his face looking plain and tired, and he hated it.

It didn’t stop Dumb Hair from giving him a ginormous fucking smile when he made his way back out, though.

“What?” he muttered.

“Nothin’.”

“I know, I look like shit. Don’t have to rub it in,” Bakugou grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets after tugging his hood back up.

“Nah, man. I think you look great.”

“Hmph. You’re just fuckin’ saying that.”

“I’m not, I swear! Honestly… I kinda like how you look without the makeup. Your eyes look bigger, y’know? And brighter.”

Bakugou’s eyes lifted to the other once more, and the genuineness of his words shined right out of his stupid, pretty face. And then the damn butterflies were back (not that they’d gone away in the first place).

“...thanks,” he mumbled, knowing he was gonna carry that one simple little compliment with him for the rest of the day—if not the entire week.

It wasn’t too much longer before the rain started to let up, and in that time Kirishima shared his chocolate—dark, with coffee flavoring, much to Bakugou’s pleasure. As soon as the rain was nothing more than weird mist falling from the sky, the street was bustling and booming with music again.

“I’m ready to head back out when you are,” Kirishima said.

Bakugou merely gave a nod and let Kirishima hold the door open for him. Side by side they started back down the street toward the tents and stages, and just as they were passing one of the merch tents, a yellow-headed idiot popped out of it.

“Hey guys!” Pikachu half-shouted. “You made it!”

Bakugou practically skidded to a halt and backed up a step, glaring at Kaminari, who Jirou promptly stepped around.

“Did you guys just get here?” Kirishima asked.

“Sorta. We got caught in the rain down at the bus stop and had to book it up here. Thank god for umbrellas, right?” he asked, holding up a folded, green umbrella.

“We only have the one we borrowed from Sero,” Kirishima told him. “So we got a little wet anyway.”

Kami shrugged. “A little rain never hurt.”

“Unless your eyeliner is falsely advertised as waterproof,” muttered Bakugou.

“Oh yeah! I thought you looked different,” Pikachu said.

“Anyway,” Jirou cut in, stopping Bakugou from retaliating at Kaminari, “we were just headed to get something to eat. We’ll see you guys later back at school.” With that, she started tugging the idiot she was attached to across the road in the direction of the food stalls; neither Bakugou nor Kirishima missed the not-so-subtle wink Pikachu threw their way before waving and following her away.

“Loser,” Bakugou mumbled under his breath. Kirishima only laughed.

“So… it’s kind of a music festival, but we haven’t really listened to that much music,” Dumb Hair said. “Looks like they’re about done setting up. Wanna go see if they’re any good?” he asked, gesturing down the road a ways back toward the bus stop where a band looked like they were just getting ready to start, a crowd of people bigger than usual already gathering around in front of the stage.

“‘Kay,” Bakugou agreed.

The band turned out to be good—really damn good, actually, to the point where Bakugou could hardly believe they were local and unsigned. While most of their shit was original (and good original), they threw in a few covers here and there as well. Somehow it was stuff Bakugou actually knew . And shit, he knew he’d never forget the look of pure awe and elation on Kirishima’s stupid face when the beginning of one of the songs started, and it was one Bakugou almost instantly recognized as one from Kirishima’s Shinedown playlist (that he’d been regularly and unapologetically listening to since saving it).

After the set was over, Kirishima almost immediately found them on Spotify. And damn was Bakugou glad they’d had good enough timing to catch that set because it finally sparked a conversation between them, chasing away the last of the awkwardness still hovering since the rainstorm. Finally they were able to let loose a bit, shake out their nerves and talk normally again. This was what Bakugou had been hoping for when he agreed to the dumb date, and eventually he forgot about how tense he felt at the beginning and the fact that his eyeliner was complete shit.

When they checked the time again, it was already almost four and by some miracle the damn sun was starting to peek through the thick clouds. They’d spent at least an hour just wandering around talking.

“You getting hungry yet?” Kirishima asked.

“A little. You?”

“Yeah, actually. D’you wanna choose somewhere else or just eat here?” He nodded in the direction of the food stalls across the road.

“Don’t care.”

“C’mon, man. I said you get to choose. I was serious.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Dumb Hair. Food is food.”

Kirishima gave him a stupid, pouty look that Bakugou both wanted to take a picture of to preserve as well as roll his eyes at. “Fine, then we might as well eat here since I’m so hungry I don’t know if I can wait to go somewhere else.”

“You sayin’ you’d starve to death in the next twenty minutes?” Bakugou teased.

“I might,” Kirishima said with a grin. Just as Bakugou was getting ready to actually roll his eyes this time, the other said, “Come on,” and reached for his hand. Bakugou had little time to react before a big, warm hand slipped around his with a firm but gentle hold. At the unexpected contact, with his heart having finally calmed down since some normalcy had been laced back between them, Bakugou  felt a thrill snake all the way up his entire body and once again his heart kicked into overdrive. Still, he let himself wrap his cool fingers around the other’s hand—his big, soft fucking hand—and be pulled toward the concession stands.

Even as they ordered and received their food, neither of them let go of the other and they shuffled the paper bags of food and drinks between their two free hands, and by some miracle nothing was dropped. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Bakugou made the decision to twist his hand in Kirishima’s and push his fingers into the spaces between the other’s. Kirishima, the smile never having so much as fucking faded, squeezed gently when he did so, and Bakugou couldn’t help thinking about how weird it was that their hands fit so comfortably together, or just how downright natural it felt.

They found a short brick wall bordering some trees from the road to sit on to eat and continue their conversation. Bakugou’s damn stomach was so filled with butterflies or whatever, though, that despite his hunger he was having a hard time actually getting the food down. But Dumb Hair paid for it, and he wasn’t about to let that shit go to waste, so he ate as much as he possibly could before his stomach refused to accept any more and he was in danger of fucking puking due to nerves.

And it seemed pretty obvious Kirishima was having a similar problem. He’d only eaten about half of his food before crumpling up the paper and stuffing it back in the bag.

“I thought you said you were starving,” Bakugou said.

“I… guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” Kirishima said with a forced, nervous laugh.

“...same.” Bakugou followed his lead by stuffing his trash back in the bag. “Be right back. I’mma throw this shit away,” he said, hopping down from the wall, bag in hand.

“‘Kay,” Kirishima said lightly.

When Bakugou got back, Dumb Hair was staring, zoned out, at the ground, his leg bouncing anxiously while he chewed on his lip and his eyebrows were smushed together.

“What’s with the fidgeting?” asked Bakugou, hopping back up onto the wall and crossing his legs, unknowingly sitting closer to Kirishima than he had before.

“What? Oh, uh… ‘s nothing.” He tried to smile his reassurance, but Bakugou wasn’t buying it.

“Bullshit.”

The fake smile faltered into something softer, and Kirishima laughed half-heartedly. “Guess you already know how to read me pretty well, huh?”

“Yeah, so what is it? ‘Cause that weird wrinkle on your forehead says it’s more than just nerves.”

Immediately the wrinkle flattened out. “‘S just… somethin’ I’ve kinda wanted to ask you since we got here, but I’m honestly afraid of the answer.”

For what felt like the goddamn millionth time in the past twenty-four hours alone, Bakugou’s heart jumped straight into his throat. Already a dozen possibilities of what Kirishima wanted to ask were flying through his brain, and he hadn’t an answer for a single one of them. Part of him wanted to book it in another direction, but another part—a bigger, stronger part—made him stay, because this day was about spending time with this little fucker he swore he had stronger feelings for every second, even if things between them were a little uneasy at times. It was their first date. That was a given. Plus, he wasn’t that much of an asshole—not to Kirishima.

“So ask.”

“Alright… but promise you’ll be honest, ‘kay?”

Those bright eyes had Bakugou hooked in so deeply already that he nodded his silent promise without hesitation.

Kirishima sucked in a deep breath. “I just… kinda wanted to know what made you agree to go out with me in the first place,” he said in somewhat of a rush, his eyes flicking back toward the ground.

That… definitely wasn’t what Bakugou had anticipated he would ask, and he felt his own shoulders drop a bit. Was the answer to that not fucking obvious? Seriously? Had Bakugou not made it obvious enough in the past few hours—or even days—that he liked this little fucker?

But taking an extra second to look at the other before he let those exact words spill off his tongue made it clear—Kirishima was insecure . He was afraid Bakugou had just gone out with him to humor him or someshit, because obviously the little fucker liked him, too. He wanted to be sure Bakugou was there because he wanted to be.

Jesus fuck, he was too damn cute for words.

“Same reason you asked me out in the first place, idiot,” Bakugou told him. “Why else?”

“So it wasn’t… just on a whim because I asked you? Or just because?”

Bakugou let a frown smush into his forehead. “Why the fuck would I do this shit ‘just because’? You should know me better than to think I do shit for no reason and waste my time.”

“I… yeah, I guess you’re right, man…” Kirishima mumbled with a slight laugh. “And not on a whim then, either, right?”

Bakugou rolled a shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe it was at first, but that’s only ‘cause I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You… weren’t? Like, at all?”

“No? Was I supposed to be?”

“Wait—you mean… you really didn’t know? Even after all the memes and the hints the others kept dropping, you didn’t suspect I liked you at all?” he asked, looking genuinely fucking surprised.

Bakugou felt his throat tighten, and then he was the one who couldn’t maintain eye contact any longer. “Fuck if I know,” he muttered, glancing down the road. “I knew you liked somebody , and it didn’t make sense that you’d send me that shit if that was the case unless it was me, but I didn’t wanna be all cocky and assume shit or whatever.”

Like a jackass, Kirishima ruffled a hand through his hair and laughed. He laughed . And as captivating a sound as it might’ve been (while Bakugou was still internally reeling from thinking such cheesy shit), his eyes flicked back up to the idiot, fingers automatically curling into fists and his teeth clenching, getting ready to chew him out for finding this funny .

“Aw man,” Dumb Hair chuckled.

“What, asshole?!” Bakugou shouted.

“Nothing! It’s nothing bad, man,” Kirishima said quickly, holding out a hand as if that would calm Bakugou’s temper. “It’s just that there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, and I think I realize that more and more every day. And I really thought you kinda knew… I mean, I was flirting with you. With the memes, anyway, since I was… well, I am too chicken to do it in person. And with all the stuff all the other guys said, especially with Sero’s comment the other day about asking, uh, ‘you-know-who’ out and then being shut up really quick by Mina. And then Kami pressuring us into playing the Pocky game. And since you sorta went along with all of it, they all just assumed you, um, liked me back? But I didn’t wanna assume anything, either… but even Midoriya said something about it, and when you started getting a lot… um, closer after the… the Pocky thing… I figured asking you out was worth the risk. So here we are.”

Shitty Hair said it all in somewhat of a rush, and sometime during all of it Bakugou relaxed despite his heart thudding so damn hard he could hear it rushing in his ears. He hated how flustered he felt—this was Kirishima , the person he’d probably consider to be his closest fucking friend, who already knew (and somehow understood) him so well despite it being a mere half a year since meeting him. And yet here he was, struggling to find something to say.

“Of… of fucking course I like you, Dumb Hair,” he grumbled. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be  here. Don’t be an idiot.”

Kirishima beamed. “That’s good to know. But I… don’t suppose you’d be okay with it if I said I, um, wanna kiss you again?”

Holy fuck, Bakugou felt like he was about to die. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be okay with that?” he mumbled.

“I dunno!” the idiot nearly squeaked. “‘S only our first date and I didn’t wanna end up doing it too soon and freak you out or something, but at the same time I really wanna do it…”

“So just fuckin’ do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, before I do it myself.”

Bakugou couldn’t tell if Kirishima’s responding laugh was out of nerves or the legitimate joy shining right out of his eyes like two miniature, crimson suns as he swiveled his entire body to face Bakugou, scooting towards him after crossing his legs, but he figured it was more than likely a mix of both, and an exact reflection of the way Bakugou himself was feeling as Kirishima slowly leaned toward him.

“Is it… okay if I, um, touch your face a little? Like this?” His hand lifted as he formed the question and came to rest gently, so impossibly gently against the curve of Bakugou’s jaw, his thumb resting delicately against Bakugou’s cheek.

“Yes,” Bakugou managed to breathe out. The little fucker’s face was a mere couple of inches away from his own now, and as nervous and flustered as Bakugou definitely was, he suddenly couldn’t look away from Shitty Hair and found himself using his eyes to map out his face, noting every tiny little freckle you wouldn’t normally see from any sort of distance, the impossible length of his eyelashes, the little scar on his eyelid… and god , Bakugou never thought someone was so stupidly gorgeous in his life.

“Last chance to back out,” Kirishima murmured.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me already,” Bakugou murmured back, though he’d intended it as more of a growl. He felt so… so fucking soft .

There was but the huff of a laugh from Kirishima’s lips before finally, finally , he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips right up against Bakugou’s, parted the tiniest bit and puckered to mold gently with Bakugou’s, who instinctively felt himself reciprocating it, eyes fluttering shut.

An overwhelming feeling of this is supposed to be happening washed over him. It felt so weirdly… right . Like this was something he’d been unknowingly waiting for. Or maybe he was just caught up in the moment and having gross, mushy thoughts straight out of a romance movie; either way, it felt good . So damn good, in fact, that a wave of disappointment followed the bliss when Kirishima tugged away soundlessly. And goddamn he couldn’t help himself; his hand came up to wrap around the front of Kirishima’s hoodie to tug him back and kiss him again, a bit harder this time. Deeper, if only a little. He heard the other let out a small grunt of surprise, his fingers curling a bit, pressing more firmly into Bakugou’s skin.

He hadn’t imagined that weird thrill that’d exploded within him the first time they’d kissed—if that tiny brushing of the lips could even be considered a kiss at this point—because there it was, lighting up every single one of his nerves again when Kirishima pressed even closer, dragging it out a bit longer before they finally parted.

Bakugou kept his eyes shut, letting himself process what the hell just happened and admittedly trying to preserve the feeling a little. He could still feel Kirishima staying close, and his hand didn’t drop from the side of Bakugou’s head. Could hear his breathing, too. It was only when he spoke up did the world around them fade back in.

“Bakugou?”

He opened his eyes. Still only inches away, Kirishima’s eyes were already open, his irises a bit glossy. He looked… almost worried, the beautiful fool.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou told him. I’m fucking fantastic is what he wanted to say, but how in the hell could he even begin to put into words how the fuck he was feeling, and let alone say them out loud without feeling like a complete idiot?

So instead he lifted his hand and pulled Kirishima’s away from his face, though instead of letting go of it he pushed his fingers through the other’s and held tighter than he had earlier, hoping that small gesture alone could reciprocate even a fraction of what he wanted to say.

Kirishima smiled. “I gotta say, man,” he started, “That was definitely a lot better now that my mouth isn’t full of pocky.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue and deadpanned, “You’re a moron.”

As expected, Dumb Hair only laughed.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

It had never taken Kirishima so long to get to sleep in his life—he was just so damn happy . And once he finally did get to sleep, he kept waking up, a smile on his face every time. He really, truly could not remember a time he felt so giddy, an absolute bliss radiating from his very core. And when he finally did fall into deep rest, he swore it was the best sleep he’d had in his entire life.

It was just after 10 AM when his eyes fluttered open to the dark room around him, and he wasn’t surprised to find Bakugou still asleep when he sat up and glanced over, the only visible part of him being a tuft of his blonde hair sticking out from the top of the blanket. With the same smile as before, Kirishima sleepily rubbed at his blurry eyes and reached for his phone. His home screen was waiting with a text message from Sero that’d come in just under half an hour ago.

> dude! Meet in the lounge!

> Be there in a few , he responded. After stretching, half-heartedly throwing his comforter across his bed, using the bathroom and combing quickly through his hair, he shuffled down the hallway in nothing but his pajamas and a pair of socks.

The lounge was still fairly quiet. Two heads, one black and one yellow, poked over the back of their usual couch and he sauntered over to see they had some old cartoon on that they weren’t really paying attention to as they were too distracted with their phones.

“Mornin’,” Kirishima mumbled, flopping himself down onto a bean bag chair.

“Heyy, there’s our loverboy,” teased Sero, looking up.

“I thought Kami was loverboy.”

“Not anymore now that you’re the one all smitten and stuff.”

“What are you, an old lady?” Kaminari asked. “Who says stuff like ‘smitten’?”

“I do,” Sero proclaimed.

“...’kay. Anyway, morning, man,” Kami said to Kirishima. “How was yesterday?” he asked with a mischievous grin.

“Good,” Kirishima said automatically. Man , that smile was persistent! His cheeks were already beginning to hurt.

“Just ‘good,’ huh? ‘Cause it looks to me like it was a hell of a lot better than good,” Sero said as Kaminari’s phone alerted him with a text message.

“Shut up,” Kirishima mumbled, wishing he had an easy way to hide the blush creeping up his face.

“So gives us the details, man,” Sero said, leaning forward with that familiar sparkle of gossip in his eyes.

“Wait wait wait,” Kaminari cut in. “The girls are on their way over and you know Mina will kill you if you talk about it before she gets here.”

Kirishima had been prepared for this since the second he’d decided to finally ask Bakugou out. In fact, he’d already promised to give Mina as many details as he could after the date when he told the four of them that Bakugou had (somehow) agreed. He already knew everything he wanted to share as well as what he’d decided to keep private—between just him and Bakugou.

When she and Jirou arrived they insisted upon making coffee and the boys gave them a minute to raid the kitchen before emerging with five steaming cups of the stuff as well as spoons, cream, and sugar. When Mina was satisfied with her mixture, she dragged another bean bag chair over beside Kirishima and plopped herself right down into it, holding the cup between her hands and gazing at him expectantly—almost studiously. It only made him laugh.

“I think we’re ready, man. Give us the details,” Sero said when everyone was settled.

“Um… well I guess I gotta start off by admitting that you guys were right,” Kirishima began. “About him liking me? ‘Cause he does… somehow.”

He’d barely gotten the word out when all of them exploded at the same time.

“Somehow?!” squeaked Mina.

“We told you!” Kami shouted.

“Obviously we were right,” Jirou interjected.

“Duh,” Sero huffed.

“Okay, okay! Yes, I admit it, alright?” Kirishima said. “Jeesh.”

“What do you mean by somehow , Kirishima?” Mina said with a slight glare. “Of course he likes you. You’re you , and he’s… him . It’s like fate brought you together or something! I knew he got reassigned for a reason.”

“He’d be stupid not to like you, man,” Kaminari said.

Warmth radiated right from Kirishima’s center at their words. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anyway, the date,” Jirou said.

“Right… uh, well, the date itself wasn’t anything super amazing or anything. I mean, the festival was fun and the rainstorm was pretty cool, but for like the first half I couldn’t think of anything to talk about. And I guess neither could he, ‘cause it was pretty much quiet while we wandered around until it started raining.”

“That’s probably just because you both knew it was a date and you were thinking about it way too much,” Mina said.

“That’s exactly what was going on in my head,” admitted Kirishima. “Like, I knew it was just Bakugou, but at the same time it was Bakugou , y’know?”

The four of them nodded.

But Kirishima had been acutely paranoid under the surface that Bakugou hadn’t been having a good time and even found himself apologizing for it on the bus ride home, even after everything that did happen.

“Sorry it wasn’t as fun as I’d hoped…” he’d said with a small, rueful grin.

“The fuck are you talking about? Who said it wasn’t fun?” Bakugou asked.

“Well, nobody… but it just didn’t seem like you were having that great of a time. At least, not at first.”

“That’s ‘cause the rain pissed me off. Don’t go assuming shit.”

That one small conversation had boosted Kirishima’s confidence quite a lot.

He went on to tell the others about having to buy the chocolate and then sharing it so Bakugou could fix his eyeliner, but kept the part about his wiping the smudges from Bakugou’s cheeks to himself. But man , he’d never forget that, how Bakugou’d been so, so close, those sharp eyes of him on Kirishima’s face the whole time he was working away at those stubborn smudges. He swore he’d almost leaned in and kissed him right there.

He also went on to tell them about the band they found that they really liked, and showed them a few videos he’d taken of it (though Mina was clearly a little too anxious to learn about the date aspect over the music festival aspect). He’d never been more grateful for some good live music in his life, either, because it finally sparked a conversation between them and it felt just like it had in the past when they’d lost track of time talking, only it felt more… intimate . Bakugou continued walking so much closer to him than what would be considered normal, and as they wandered through the crowds and along the still-wet sidewalks, all he wanted to do was slip his fingers into Bakugou’s palm. Seriously, their hands had brushed across each other enough times that he knew if Bakugou’s reaction to such a gesture was bad, he could’ve played it off as an accident. Still, he kept chickening out.

Kirishima did tell them when he finally mustered up just enough courage to grab Bakugou’s cool fingers, an almost stark contrast to his own warmer ones, when he pulled him along toward one of the concession stands. What he kept to himself was how Bakugou had been the one to lace their fingers together and how Kirishima had felt like he was going to melt into a puddle on the ground right then and there.

“We ate and talked some more. That was… kinda when I asked why he agreed to go out with me, which is how I found out he actually does like me.” It felt so weird, saying those words. Saying them about Bakugou. Saying them and knowing they were true; that the painfully handsome guy he’d been developing feelings for more and more every day over the course of the past six months actually reciprocated those feelings. Kirishima wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it; his stomach never failed to flutter every time he thought about it. “And um… it wasn’t long after that when we came back here and spent some time in the game room,” he concluded.

“Well, damn,” Kaminari said. “Sounds like it went pretty well for a first date.”

“Definitely better than ours,” Jirou said to him.

“Oh yeah! You guys almost didn’t even go out again after that,” Sero recalled.

“Don’t remind me, guys,” Kami mumbled. “So are you guys together now?” he asked to change the subject.

“We didn’t really talk about that,” Kirishima said. “It felt like it was too early to ask, so I didn’t.”

“That’s fair,” Jirou said. “But are you gonna go out with him again?”

“If Kiri has any say in it, of course they will,” Mina said.

“I’d like to, yeah. We didn’t really talk about that much either, but I’m definitely gonna ask him if he wants to,” said Kirishima. “I’d just have to figure out what to do again. I’m pretty bad at coming up with date ideas.”

“Google some stuff,” Sero suggested. “Or like, go to an arcade or something. You know how competitive he can get so I bet that’d be pretty fun.”

Kirishima nodded thoughtfully. That was actually an excellent idea and he was mildly disappointed he hadn’t thought of it himself to begin with. Still, at least he had an idea—and knew of an arcade—for his and Bakugou’s second date… provided Bakugou agreed to go out with him again. Though admittedly, with the way Bakugou had held his hand to and from the bus stops, and the way he’d freaking kissed him, Kirishima would be pretty surprised if he said no.

“Wait, wait, wait! You guys are forgetting to ask one of the most important questions, here!” Mina cut in suddenly. She turned her big, shiny eyes right back on Kirishima. “Did you guys kiss?”

Kirishima had originally decided to keep that one to himself; even he was still trying to process all of that. The thing front and center in his memory of his date was just that—Bakugou’s freaking lips . His kiss . And god, how could he ever even begin to describe that feeling?

He’d tasted like Mountain Dew, for obvious reasons. Somehow his lips had been even softer than when they’d chewed through that dumb stick of Pocky together. The smooth texture of his skin beneath Kirishima’s palm and the pads of his fingers was forever etched into his memory. And when Bakugou had pulled him forward by the front of his hoodie to kiss him again, clearly not satisfied, judging by the way he’d pressed even closer, kissed even deeper , Kirishima wasn’t sure how in the hell he hadn’t spontaneously combusted.

The only comprehensive thought that’d come out of that whole situation was that he’d fucking loved it. And he wanted to do it more.  A lot more.

“Well?” Mina pressed when he didn’t answer for a moment.

“...yeah,” he said, scratching his neck. “Yeah, we did.”

“Ohmy gosh !” she half-squeaked, covering her mouth and bouncing a bit in her bean bag chair. “I’m so happy for you!” she gushed as her arms were thrown around him probably a little too tightly. Man , she was strong from all that dancing!

“Ah… okay, thanks, Mina. Um, can you maybe not crush my windpipe though? I like breathing,” he managed as he patted her on the back.

“Sorry,” she giggled, pulling back. “It’s about freaking time, though!”

“Aw jeez, Mina, you act like they didn’t kiss just the other day right in front of you,” Kaminari said.

Mina turned and promptly threw the plastic spoon in her coffee cup at him, and it glanced right off of his forehead. “You be quiet,” she told him stubbornly. “That doesn’t count and you know it.”

“Okay! But did you really have to throw your spoon at me?” he pouted, gently tossing it back.

“You kind of deserved it, Denki,” Jirou told him.

“Gee thanks, babe,” he grumbled.

“I think it’s super sweet that you guys are going out on actual dates,” Mina said, bringing Kirishima’s attention back to her. “Nobody in high school really does that anymore. Everybody just wants to mess around nowadays.”

Kirishima couldn’t help his grin of agreement. “Aw c’mon, Mina, you know I take this stuff seriously. I don’t have time to mess around like that. Seems more like a waste to me, anyway.”

“And hey, Kyouka and I have gone on real dates,” Kami interjected.

“How many?” Sero asked in a teasing tone. “Like, two?”

Just as Kami was puffing up to defend himself, Jirou just patted his shoulder and shook his head; even she looked a bit regretful. “Don’t bother, babe. They’re right.”

“...’s still more than Kiri.”

“So far, yeah,” Mina said. “But Kiri’s kind of old-fashioned. I bet he and Baku will go on tons of dates in the near future. Right, Kiri?”

Kirishima shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows?”

The answer was casual, but merely thinking about going on a bunch of silly casual dates with Bakugou brought forth another wave of that overwhelming happiness he’d been riding since yesterday afternoon. He thought about how those dates would probably lead to things eventually being official between them the way he’d been quietly hoping for for months, and then he pictured himself introducing… er, re introducing Bakugou to his mom as his boyfriend . Thought about Bakugou spending time with them on holidays and vice versa…

Before he could get too much further ahead of himself, a familiar sluggish movement of black clothes and blonde hair caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he glanced over to see none other than Bakugou himself shuffling into the room, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand as he was mid-yawn.

“Yo, Bakugou!” Sero piped up first.

“Sup, losers?” he mumbled in a sleepy voice that only caused Kirishima’s smile to widen, for his stomach to flutter even more.

“I’m… gonna go get some more coffee,” Mina said, jumping up from her chair. Just before collecting everyone else’s cups and scurrying off to the kitchen, she nudged the chair toward Kirishima until it was right up against his own. “Have a seat, Bakugou!” she said with a wink.

Bakugou’s sleepy eyes followed her toward the lounge kitchen before he plunked down into the chair she abandoned. “...fucking weirdo,” he muttered.

“Mina makes a great wingwoman, dontcha think?” Sero asked.

“She’s just trying to be nice,” Kirishima said, though he was once again feeling that damned heat rising in his cheeks.

“She’s weird,” Bakugou repeated.

“Yeah, but she fits in.”

“And so do you, which means you’re weird, too,” Sero told Bakugou.

“...whatever.”

⚜️

The rest of the day was pretty typical of the six of them. The thing that stood out—not only to Kirishima but everyone else, because of course they noticed—was Bakugou’s closeness to him. While they were in the game room, he’d sit so near to Kirishima on the couch while they watched Mina and Jirou play air hockey that their thighs were pressed together. When they stood beside the pool table, Bakugou trying to coach Sero and Kaminari (who were still pretty awful at it), he very blatantly leaned against him, an arm up on his shoulder. At lunch it was evident the others left the seat beside him open for Kirishima to sit in—and he, too, made a point to keep as close as possible without their elbows bumping too much as they ate.

It was nearly curfew when they decided to head in for the night and parted ways from the girls’ lounge. It was clear to Kirishima that Sero and Kaminari’s head start was on purpose to allow him and Bakugou to walk back together alone , and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it. It was clear that Bakugou understood that, too, judging by the next thing he said.

“How long have those idiots known, anyway?” he asked, jerking his chin forward where the other two were a good twenty feet ahead of them, very nearly to the boys’ dorm.

“About what, exactly?”

“I dunno. You liking me, I guess.”

Those words never failed to make Kirishima’s stomach jump. “Oh. A few months. Longer than me, actually,” he admitted.

“All of ‘em?”

“Yup.”

“Figures. ‘M just surprised Pinky wasn’t pressing on us for all the details about yesterday.”

“Oh, she did,” Kirishima said.. “I talked to ‘em about it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Kirishima couldn’t decide if he imagined the stiffening of Bakugou’s shoulders, but he definitely didn’t imagine the small “hmph” huffing from his nose.

“What?” he murmured, timid. He was suddenly really afraid he’d done something wrong.

“Nothing. Just don’t like a bunch of people knowing all my business.”

“Don’t worry, Baku. I didn’t tell ‘em everything . Just the basic stuff.”

Bakugou was quiet until they got into the dorm building, when he asked, “You tell ‘em we kissed?”

Kirishima felt himself hesitate in his answer as Bakugou worked to unlock the door to their room. “...well, yeah,” he said finally. “But that was it. I didn’t like, describe it or whatever.”

When Bakugou didn’t respond right away, a lump started to grow in Kirishima’s throat.

“Is… is that okay?” he asked when they were settled on their beds.

“‘S fine.”

“Hey, don’t worry, man. I’m not gonna be blabbing about everything we do to ‘em. Promise. I like to keep things private, too.”

“Good,” Bakugou said as he leaned back onto his pillows, folding his arms behind his head as he usually did.

Kirishima figured he should take the opportunity as it presented itself to him or he wasn’t sure when he was gonna be able to ask again. “So um… speaking of stuff we do…” he began in a slight mumble. The other’s head turned to look at him, his expression virtually blank. “D’you… maybe wanna go out again?” he made himself say before he lost the last of his nerve.

And then Bakugou grinned —a real, genuine smile, even if it was small and more sly or cocky than anything. “I was wondering when the fuck you were gonna ask,” he said.

Kirishima’s back straightened instantly. “What?” he blurted. Oh man , his face was heating up… again . He swore being with Bakugou was gonna turn his face as red as his hair, permanently . “You—you could’ve asked, too, y’know!” he mumbled.

Bakugou was the one to look away, twisting his head all the way to the right so Kirishima couldn’t see it at all anymore before he grumbled a half-hearted, “...shut up.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou was more than on board with the arcade idea, and he’d insisted upon paying despite Kirishima’s protests, resulting in a half-hearted argument on the bus ride toward downtown the following Friday. It started when Bakugou paid for the fare, stepping up onto the bus and whipping out his money before Kirishima even had time to react.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked. “I was gonna pay.”

“You always pay,” Bakugou had said, plopping down in a seat.

“Right… but I’m also the one who asked you out again, remember? So I should be the one to—“

“Doesn’t matter. You paid last time and ‘s not like I’m fucking broke. Just lemme get it.”

Kirishima had remained stubborn for a bit; to him, it really didn’t feel right letting Bakugou pay when it had been his idea to go out again and was the one to pitch the arcade idea (though it was originally Sero’s suggestion). In the end, though, Bakugou put up a better fight and Kirishima realized just how petty the argument was and caved in, letting Bakugou pay for his tokens and drink when they made it to the arcade. (And, despite their little, almost playful argument, Bakugou still let Kirishima hold his hand from the bus stop to the building.)

Bakugou had a knack for arcade games, much to Kirishima’s pleasure considering he had his own kind of knack for them, too. The challenge was great, and even when they were playing games that required no competition, they were still trying to best each other, be it with points made or tickets earned.

In the end Bakugou had nearly five hundred more tickets than Kirishima, and their combined total was somewhere in the two-thousand range, opening a world of possibilities for what they could get at the prize counter. In the end, though, they only grabbed some candy and decided to save the rest of the tickets for the next time. Kirishima really didn’t mind; most of the prizes were toys aimed a little kids, anyway, and what was fun to him wasn’t the reward, it was playing games and spending the day with Bakugou.

It wasn’t until they were on their way out that Kirishima started thinking again, getting too far back into his head when the distraction of all the games was gone and they were on their way to the bus stop again. He must’ve been pretty obvious about how uneasy the thoughts were making him, too, because Bakugou asked him about it when they were stepping back into their room.

“What the hell’s up with you?” he asked.

Instinctively, Kirishima played dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been, like… stiff, or whatever, since we left the arcade.”

Blowing a long breath through his lips, Kirishima gave in, his shoulders slumping a bit. “I’ve been obvious, huh?”

“Only a lot,” Bakugou muttered, doing his usual flop onto his bed and kicking his shoes off. “So what’s with it?”

“I, um…” Kirishima half distracted himself by making a show of taking his own shoes off as he spoke, taking the time to actually untie them this time, just for the sake of keeping his hands occupied and for an excuse not to look at the other, whose eyes were boring right into him. “I’ve kinda been trying to think of a way to… to kiss you ever since we left, but the only way I could come up with is really cliche, and since we live together it doesn’t really work, anyway.” When he finally did look up, Bakugou’s eyes flicked away, his shoulders hunching the way Kirishima had noticed they did when he was feeling flustered.

“...you don’t gotta be all clever about it, idiot,” he muttered. “If you wanna do it, just do it.”

“Right…” Kirishima laughed lightly. “But I gotta make sure you’re cool with it first.”

“So then ask , moron. You’re makin’ too big of a deal out of it.”

And he totally had been. When he laughed and moved over to sit next to Bakugou, it seemed somehow easy—even if it was still super nerve-wracking—to lean in and kiss him, gently cupping his jaw with one hand as he had the last time, the other finding and easily resting on his waist while Bakugou’s came up and gripped the front of his hoodie the way they had the last time.

And man , it was only their third, but Kirishima swore he’d never get used to kissing Bakugou.

⚜️

Their third date was more typical of a ‘date,’ even if it didn’t start off that way—or as an actual date at all. It was a few days after their second, toward the middle of the week when their environmental science teacher dumped a sudden test announcement on them for Friday, leaving them scrambling to study seeing as they’d been too distracted with each other to focus on their homework. They’d been cramming all afternoon in their room when Bakugou eventually (and inevitably) threw his pencil down and suggested a walk to get them ‘the fuck out of this cramped room for a while.’ Easily, Kirishima agreed.

Their walk, wandering aimlessly around campus, was without conversation at first. Bakugou found a rock on the sidewalk and was kicking it along as he often did, but Kirishima couldn’t help noticing how he kicked it harder than normal with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He chalked it up to him being irritated from the studying, but Bakugou proved him wrong when he spoke up.

“Listen,” he mumbled, kicking the rock again. “I gotta… talk to you about something.”

“Yeah? What’s up?” Kirishima asked.

“I dunno how the fuck to say it.”

“S’okay, man. Take your time.”

Bakugou huffed a bit and Kirishima gave him the time he needed to think, trying not to let any of the dozens of questions flying around in his head get to him too much, trying not to be too nervous about whatever it was Bakugou had to say.

“I’m not sayin’ it bothers me,” Bakugou started again, kicking the rock more lightly now. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about it too damn much…”

“Thinking about what?” Already Kirishima was confused.

“This whole… fuck, I dunno. This dating another guy thing,” he let out in a huff. The sole of his shoe skidded across the sidewalk, the toe making contact with the rock and sending it skipping down, down, down a small hill until not even Kirishima could see it anymore. “I didn’t think…” He stopped and sighed heavily, reaching up to frustratedly run a hand through his hair. When Kirishima stopped and turned to look at him, he found his eyes to be cut sharply to his left. “I didn’t think I was fucking… gay , or whatever,” he let out in a mumble.

Kirishima instantly felt himself relax, his lips tugging into a soft smile he couldn’t help. He’d been wondering if this was going to come up. He’d had the inkling several times in the past that Bakugou had been questioning himself; he just hadn’t expected him to be so surprisingly open about it… or, well, as ‘open’ as Bakugou could be about it, with his embarrassed posture and the way he wouldn’t look directly at Kirishima.

“Here, let’s sit,” Kirishima told him, walking over to the edge of the sidewalk where it bordered a small, empty field and stretched down a hill where it was fenced off. He plopped down into the grass, facing where the sun was still sinking its way below the horizon behind a modest blanket of clouds illuminated into pinks and oranges by its rays. Bakugou hesitated for a second before flopping into the grass beside him, never removing his hands from his pockets. “So… clearly it’s bothering you,” he said.

“I just fucking said it’s not,” Bakugou muttered.

“Right, but it is.”

“Whatever.”

“That’s totally normal, man. I freaked out for weeks when I realized I don’t really like girls. I thought I was gonna lose all my friends and I was scared my mom was gonna disown me or something. ‘S kinda like… one of those things where you know it’s a thing that exists, but you never really think it’s gonna be you , y’know? That’s what I thought, anyway.”

“Yeah. That pretty much describes it.” Bakugou’s hands slid from his pockets and he leaned forward, beginning to run his fingers through the grass. The fading light from the sun filtered through it, making it look almost white, and gave his skin an ivory glow that, for that moment, became Kirishima’s favorite color. Man , he could look at Bakugou all day and never get tired…

“It’s alright, Baku,” Kirishima told him. “It’s one of those things you kinda make a bigger deal about than it really is, I think. You’re definitely not gonna lose your friends… at least not the ones in our group. And I know Midoriya’s had a thing with Todoroki for several months now, so I’m sure even he can relate. As for your parents… for right now, you don’t even have to tell ‘em. You have time to sort it out.

“And besides, there’s lots of other things to identify as other than gay, and you don’t even have to put a label on it all. Maybe you just like who you like and that’s it. If people don’t like it, I’m pretty sure you’ll just tell them to fuck off, anyway.”

By the time Kirishima had finished, Bakugou finally looked up at him, and he could just see that worry that’d built up behind his eyes for the past few weeks, maybe longer. And yet as he spoke, doing his absolute best to reassure him in drawing from his own experiences, he saw that worry drain away, and Bakugou’s back straightened a bit.

“Obviously,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck what some stranger thinks.”

“Exactly!” Kirishima grinned. “I get it, though, dude. It’s fine if you’re not sure, and I get it if you wanna take a break from our dates and stuff to—”

“I never fucking said that, you idiot,” Bakugou cut in. “Just ‘cause I’m confused as shit doesn’t mean I wanna stop. Stop assuming shit.”

Kirishima held his hands up. “Hey, I was just makin’ sure!”

Bakugou grunted lightly, the smallest of grins manifesting on his lips before he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s just go get something to eat,” he said. “‘M starving.”

“‘Kay.” Kirishima followed his lead and patted the dirt off of his jeans. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

And he really must have, too, because he reached for Kirishima’s hand and didn’t let go of it as they crossed the campus. It allowed him to tug Kirishima back, too, when he started to make the turn that would take them toward the mess hall.

“Fuck that, we’re going off campus,” he said. “I want some good pizza.”

“Cool with me,” Kirishima agreed.

⚜️

Kirishima ended up paying for their dinner. Like last time, Bakugou argued with him about it until they came to a compromise that Kirishima pitched about switching off paying with each date, to which Bakugou—grumpily—agreed.

In the end, Kirishima couldn’t really be sure if this classified as an actual date , because it was just the two of them getting dinner together, something they’d done a countless number of times in the past. The only difference this time was going off campus and taking a bus a few blocks down to a relatively small pizza parlor (that definitely had better pizza than the mess hall served).

Halfway through eating it started raining, and of course they hadn’t thought to bring the umbrella Kirishima still had yet to return to Sero. Because it didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon by the time they’d finished, they were forced to jog through the wet sidewalks, hunched under their hoods, until they reached the bus stop that, fortunately, was one with a covered bench that shielded them from the downpour.

“I’m so fucking done with all this rain,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Would you rather it snow?”

“Fuck no.”

Kirishima chuckled and adjusted his hood. He hadn’t been expecting the rain when he put his hair up that morning and because the hood was small, he had a difficult time fitting all of the spikes underneath it. Already the front of it had gotten wet and was beginning to droop over his forehead, forcing him to keep pushing it out of his eyes. He was in the middle of doing just that when something cold pressing to his neck startled him, causing both him and his heart to jump.

Bakugou had reached up and was tugging the chain hanging around Kirishima’s neck out from under his hoodie.

“What…?” he began.

“You’re actually wearing this?” Bakugou mumbled, letting the small dog tag at the end of the chain rest on his fingers.

“‘Course I’m wearing it, Baku,” responded Kirishima proudly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“‘S a shitty present, that’s why.”

“Whaaat? You’re joking, right?”

“It’s a fucking dog tag, you idiot, and a cheap one I found at a stupid gift shop,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t matter. I like it. Like you said, it suits me. And it’s from you , so it’s automatically cool,” Kirishima told him proudly.

The tag slipped from Bakugou’s fingers and came to rest against Kirishima’s chest once again. “That’s a stupid reason, but whatever,” he said, looking away. But on his cheeks was an unmistakable pinkness that hadn’t been there before, and Kirishima refused to believe it was because of the cold.

⚜️

“Hey, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou said when they got back to their room.

Kirishima turned around from tucking his shoes into a corner. “Huh?” he mumbled, trying to figure out the somewhat intense stare he was being given.

“C’mere and kiss me before you start making a big deal out of it,” Bakugou said.

Kirishima shot up straight. “What?” he asked automatically. He hadn’t even been thinking about that! At least, not consciously…

“You heard me.”

As much as Kirishima wanted to close the distance between them and do just that, he was too confused and taken off guard to make his feet move and could only stare (like the idiot Bakugou was surely thinking he was) at the other, stomach tight.

With narrow eyes, Bakugou perched a hand on his hip when Kirishima didn’t move. “If you don’t do it, I will,” he said.

And Kirishima swore he felt a physical, electric thrill shoot straight up his spine at those words. When he continued to do nothing but stare (internally hoping Bakugou meant what he said), the other took the three or four steps needed to close the distance between them with a huff (that Kirishima couldn’t tell if he detected annoyance in or not). In an instant Bakugou was just… that close. Close enough for Kirishima to be holding his breath, and wondering how he’d been so focused on the other’s face that he hadn’t really noticed the pair of arms curled around his neck until they were already there and he was staring directly into an intense pair of fiery red eyes, his own hands settled easily on the other’s hips.

Oh my god , was all he could seem to think.

“Is this okay or what?” Bakugou asked—in a murmur , so close Kirishima could feel his warm breath brush over his lips.

“Y-yeah,” he managed. When Bakugou’s eyes twitched into a small frown he cleared his throat and repeated more firmly, “Yes.”

Kirishima wasn’t sure if the small grunt he heard escape the back of Bakugou’s throat was a laugh or not, but he didn’t really have time to mull it over because a pair of pierced lips were molding right into his own, erasing all coherent thoughts from his head. That same thrill he’d felt just seconds ago seemed to fill his entire body as Bakugou’s fingers gripped lightly at the somewhat flattened hair on the back of his head and god , he never thought kissing would feel like this. Bakugou wasn’t the first person he’d ever kissed, but none of the few he’d experienced in the past had been anything like this—not anything near it . He never, ever, ever wanted this feeling to go away.

Bakugou was the one to pull away and Kirishima couldn’t help breathing out a “whoa” once he did, eyes fluttering open. He felt so warm. So full . Even Bakugou’s eyes were a bit glossy…

“Where the fuck did you learn to kiss so damn well?” Bakugou asked, breathless even if only slightly.

“You think I do?” Kirishima asked.

“Obviously.”

Already Kirishima had a giant grin on his face. “Thanks, man. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Hmph. Thanks, I guess.” With that, Bakugou started removing his arms from Kirishima’s shoulders but reached down to tug Kirishima by the hand over to the space between their beds where they’d left all their study stuff (as if Kirishima wouldn’t have followed him anyway).

“Hey, so…” Kirishima began as they sat down in their respective places, if just a bit closer than before, side by side leaning up against Bakugou’s bed. “I have a question.”

“What?”

Bakugou let Kirishima push his fingers between his own before he asked, “So are we just, like, bros who go out on dates and kiss and stuff… or can I start telling people you’re my boyfriend?”

“...I dunno, the fuck do you think?” Bakugou asked, seemingly pretending to adjust one of the rings in his lip to cover up the fact that he’d gone a bit stiff hearing the word ‘boyfriend.’

“Well, if I had it my way, I definitely wanna be able to say that,” Kirishima told him honestly. “But I don’t wanna jump the gun if you’re not comfortable with it… especially after what we talked about earlier before dinner.”

“Hmph. Well obviously this shit isn’t going nowhere,” Bakugou said, squeezing Kirishima’s hand lightly to indicate what he meant by ‘this shit.’ “And for some weird reason you like me, and obviously I like you. So why the fuck not?”

Kirishima felt his entire face light up. “Yeah?” he asked.

“ Yes , Dumb Hair,” Bakugou said, sounding mildly annoyed. “How many times do I gotta say it?”

“Just once,” Kirishima told him with an ear-to-ear grin. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean,” Bakugou told him. “So yeah, I’m fucking sure.”

“That’s good to know.” Kirishima squeezed his hand again. “So um… should we get back to studying, or…?”

A long sigh blew out through Bakugou’s lips as he half-glared down at the books and things spread out on the floor in front of them. “Way to ruin the moment,” he grumbled. “But yeah. Don’t really feel like failing the test and having to make that shit up somehow.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima said with a mild chuckle. Honestly, he didn’t know how well he’d be able to concentrate on studying now—after everything that’d happened, but Bakugou did have a point. “But yeah, better to get it over with now. At least we don’t have that much more to go over.”

“Yeah, yeah…” grumbled the other, reaching for his pencil again. As he grumpily pulled his textbook back toward him he mumbled something under his breath that Kirishima didn’t catch, but he had a feeling he could fairly easily guess what it might’ve been and did nothing more than grin as he, too, pulled his notebook back into his lap.

⚜️

Studying… didn’t last much longer. They were both way too distracted and out of patience with the textbooks. Inevitably, they ended up scrolling lazily through their phones with nothing but the sound of the heater filling the silence between them for a while. It was comfortable, and Kirishima was more than content with the warmth of Bakugou pressed up against his left shoulder. A small, satisfied grin he wasn’t consciously aware of never really faded from his lips.

“Hey, Dumb Hair,” Bakugou said after a while.

“Huh?” Kirishima mumbled, looking up just as Bakugou held his phone up with the front camera open. As soon as he saw it, the small smile spread out and automatically he leaned in.

“Could you look any happier?” Bakugou asked with mock annoyance, but not even he could hide the subtle bliss shining in his eyes.

“I could,” Kirishima laughed, widening his smile to the point his cheeks started to ache. As if to spite him, Bakugou snapped the picture.

“That’s fucking creepy,” he said. “At least now I’ve got blackmail material.”

“Heyy,” Kirishima complained teasingly.

“I’m joking, idiot.”

“I know, man.”

Kirishima was admittedly a little giddy throughout their mini photoshoot, and more than a little surprised that Bakugou had been the one to initiate it. Toward the end he’d tossed his arm around Bakugou’s neck, and, on impulse, turned his head and pressed his lips right to the other’s cheek, who stiffened just a bit in his own surprise. He took the picture, though, and then lowered the phone to look through the dozen or so filling up the end of his camera roll.

In the end, that last one ended up being both of their favorites (even if in it, Bakugou’s expression did look slightly irritated despite the small, half-grin he had). Bakugou didn’t outwardly admit it was his favorite, but Kirishima just knew by the look on his face—a softer expression than he was pretty sure anyone had ever seen from him, and it warmed his insides to the brim.

As much as he wanted to do it, Kirishima let Bakugou be the one to post the photo on Instagram. With an arm still slung around his shoulders, he watched Bakugou edit it a bit and type the caption:

Dating this fucker now. He sucks. Don’t follow him. @redriot

The notification chimed on Kirishima’s phone, still sitting in his lap unlocked, almost immediately once Bakugou tapped send. His grin never faltered as he liked the image and commented with the ;* and x'D emojis.

“So uh, I don’t think your caption worked,” he said after a few minutes. When Bakugou gave him a quizzical look he tilted the phone in his direction, showing him the notifications of several new followers he’d acquired in the past few minutes since the post went up.

“...people are fucking weird,” Bakugou mumbled. “But you’re welcome.”

Kirishima chuckled, bumping shoulders with him again. “Hey, if I suck so much, how come you’re dating me?” Kirishima asked, peering at the other out of the corner of his eye.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re my little fucker, you dweeb,” Bakugou grumbled. He didn’t look at Kirishima when he said it, and the tips of his ears were already bright red. All Kirishima could do was laugh more and kiss his cheek again, trying—and failing—to remember a time where he’d been this stupidly happy. And because he couldn’t, he had only one person to thank for it.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Though they weren’t surprised in the least, the rest of the group was absolutely ecstatic to find out they’d made things official. Mina was so happy that Kirishima thought she was going to explode—or throw a party, and even he, as damn happy as he was of course, had to tell her to calm down. It was nice knowing all of their friends—the very ones that had been insisting Bakugou liked him back for months and were there for him during his occasional rants about being confused about his crush and fearing messing up his friendship with his roommate—were too happy for them to tell him any kind of ‘I told you so.’ (Still, he could kind of see that kind of attitude in Sero’s eyes, which he promptly ignored.)

“And just in time for Valentine’s Day,” Jirou had pointed out.

“Oh yeah! It’ll be Kiri’s first time having someone on Valentine’s Day,” Kaminari pointed out with a wink in his direction that only served to embarrass him, and he’d averted the subject away from the impending holiday as quickly as possible.

It did get him thinking about it, though. Of course, he’d known in the back of his mind that it was coming up and he hadn’t been completely oblivious to the posters and flyers going up all around campus about the dance the student council was planning for it. He’d just been so distracted by, well, Bakugou, that it’d been pushed to the back of his thoughts. Now, though, his mind was buzzing with trying to come up with ideas to do or things to give his new boyfriend (the word still struck a chord within him and never failed to make his insides flutter) for it, even if he had an inkling that Bakugou didn’t care much for the holiday. Regardless, he wasn’t about to ignore it altogether, and already he’d filled half a page in his history notebook during class with ideas.

⚜️

The fact that they were dating—finally and officially—didn’t stop the memes. In fact, it seemed it only made the exchange of them increase, and Kirishima would send any cute ones he could find, no matter how cheesy they might’ve been. The closer it got to Valentine’s Day, the cheesier he made them—and Bakugou played along.

Even if they were old, he found several ridiculous pickup lines he knew would probably make Bakugou roll his eyes but (probably, hopefully) at least snort a small laugh.

(see it here)

Some of them were ones he’d saved months ago that Kaminari or Sero had sent him, but that he’d found too ridiculous or a little too intense to send Bakugou at the time. Now, though, he didn’t even hesitate when tapping send, amused by it himself.

(see it here)

(see it here)

And even though Kirishima knew Bakugou thought the memes were ridiculous (hell, he did too), the other retaliated with his own easily, and it never failed to make his bones turn to jelly and his stomach explode with butterflies, even if they were a little on the edgy side.

(see it here)

(see it here)

And, Kirishima’s favorite of all:

(see it here)

It was almost a constant rhythm of meme exchanging whenever they weren’t together—which admittedly wasn’t very often. Even though it was already normal that they spent the majority of their free time together, what with being part of the same usual friend group and being, well, roommates, somehow it felt like more. Maybe it was because their moments together were more intense, their exchanges were—obviously—more than simply friendly with each other as it’d always been up until then.

Having a class together gave them more of an excuse to spend time together, too, and alone. Sure, they studied… sort of. They always planned to but, well, things don’t always work out the way they’re planned. More often than not they got way too distracted with each other to be able to focus on the material anymore, and ‘study sessions’ tended to turn into ‘make out sessions’ instead… which even still, after a few weeks, Kirishima still couldn’t get enough of.

Their conversations didn’t end, either, and somehow they got deeper. Way deeper. They got into territories Kirishima never even really thought about anymore, or at least places he never thought he’d talk about out loud with anyone. He even spilled the beans on the death of his father, something he’d refused to think or talk about anymore since a year or so after it happened. And when he got upset, feeling like a dam he hadn’t really known was there, holding back everything he felt from the incident had broken… Bakugou was (admittedly surprisingly) sympathetic. Of course, every time Kirishima apologized for the silly tears, knowing he looked really dumb, Bakugou told him to shut up. But he was soft about it—so much softer than Kirishima had ever seen him get, and in just that moment he could feel himself falling further—albeit slowly, but he was.

He knew it was the silly ‘honeymoon phase,’ something that’d come to an end eventually but man, he really didn’t want it to. He loved being with Bakugou—loved it more than he thought he would a month ago when he was still only crushing and thinking things like this would probably never happen, and that was pretty damn impressive. He truly, seriously, without a doubt could not remember a time in his life where he’d felt even remotely as happy as he did being with Bakugou.

As much as they tried to keep their relationship on the down-low when it came to people at school, it didn’t work out too well. But damn, Kirishima couldn’t help that he always wanted to hold Bakugou’s hand as they walked across campus or to or from classes together. People caught on pretty quickly, of course, but thanks to Bakugou’s generally grumpy and unapproachable demeanor to anyone who they weren’t friends with, nobody confronted them about it, which gave them the privacy they both wanted.

Of course, their friends were in on pretty much everything they allowed themselves to share—things the others would inevitably find out anyway, and no way were they holding back any of their teasing comments about it. It was just like when Kaminari and Jirou had first started dating; for the first month or so, he and the other two had teased them almost nonstop. But now that he was on the receiving end, he held mild regret for all of the comments he made back then (especially because he still hadn’t found a way to force away the heat rising to his face whenever it happened, which only served to make them tease him more when he became visibly flustered… go figure).

Despite all the teasing that came after, Kaminari still made sure to apologize to Bakugou for the whole Pocky incident. As pretty typical of Bakugou, though, he brushed him off with a shrug and an ‘it’s whatever.’ As embarrassing as it had been when it happened and for the few days following, no one could deny it did kickstart things between the two of them and because of it, neither of them were really all that upset about it. At least, not anymore. And, as weird as it felt to think about in hindsight, Kirishima was actually somewhat grateful to Kami for doing what he did, despite all the embarrassment and tension they endured for a days after the fact.

And now, for the first time since elementary school (if that even counted), Kirishima would have a Valentine, and he was beyond excited.

Bakugou

Bakugou was so sick of all the damn pink. It was fucking everywhere—plastered on every single wall throughout the entire goddamn campus, even in the dorms, and he was starting to think he could smell some of that pepto bismol shit emitting from it all. As far as he knew, pepto was supposed to get rid of your nausea, but all this did was induce it. It was disgusting.

So every chance he got, he buried himself in red, which had a much nicer, more guyish scent to it that he’d be more than happy to take everywhere with him if he could. Being with Kirishima made him so stupidly happy that it was easy as hell to forget how irritated by all the Valentine’s day stuff he was.

But inevitably, of course, Dumb Hair eventually brought it up, too. They’d been sitting on his bed avoiding their homework as usual, transitioning between talking, watching random YouTube shit on Kirishima’s laptop, and making out, their bodies rarely leaving contact with one another, when he spoke up about it.

“So… I know you’re not really into the Valentine’s day stuff,” he began. He was holding one of Bakugou’s hands in his own, using the other to trace the lines of his palm with the tip of his finger.

Bakugou immediately cut him off. “How the fuck d’you know? I never said that.”

An easy yet somewhat disappointed grin pulled at the corner of Kirishima’s lips, and fuck, every time the little fucker smiled all Bakugou wanted to do was fucking kiss him. “I know, but I think ‘m gettin’ pretty good at reading you. Plus, you scowl at any of the posters about the dance any time we walk by ‘em, so it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

All Bakugou could think to do was ‘hmph’ in response, remembering how his mom always told him he sucked at expressing emotions unless they were that of anger or annoyance, and he hated how right she was.

“Anyway, I know you’re not into it or anything but I was kinda hopin’ you’d make a small exception and lemme do something for you anyway?” He peeked up from beneath those thick, dark lashes, his eyes sparkling with just a bit of hope and half of that small smile still on his face.

As much as Bakugou’s first instinct was to say ‘fuck no’ and to tell him to treat it as a normal day, those stupid eyes made him relent, even if he remained a little skeptical. “Like what?” he mumbled.

“‘S a surprise, man,” Kirishima told him, lifting his head. “But don’t worry, the idea I have isn’t anything huge. And it won’t even be V-day themed, so you could even say ‘s just like a normal present you got from your boyfriend but he just happened to give it to you on Valentine’s day.”

Bakugou resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Dumb Hair was such an idiot, but he was so damn cute. “But what if it wasn’t a shitty holiday?” he asked. “Would you still be giving me whatever the fuck it is you’re talking about?”

Kirishima’s back straightened and he finally lifted his head all the way, his hand coming to rest gently down against Bakugou’s palm, steady and warm. “Yeah, I think I would,” he said. “This way I sorta just have a deadline to get it done by, y’know?”

Get it done. Something about those three little words gave Bakugou the inkling that it wasn’t someshit he was planning to go buy at Target or the mall or something. The little fucker was probably planning on making him something—which meant it was gonna mean so much more than just a normal gift. They’d only been dating just under a month and Dumb Hair was already so ridiculously sweet and thoughtful, leaving Bakugou to believe he didn’t deserve him. Not really. He sure as fuck wasn’t super thoughtful when it came to romantic shit or whatever. Hell, he wasn’t even good at being a thoughtful friend—he’d gotten Kirishima a fucking dog tag for his birthday (that he was never seen without anymore, but still).

“You can say no, man. I’ll understand,” Kirishima said after a pause. “But I can’t promise I won’t give it to you eventually anyway.”

Kirishima’s smile was almost cocky now, the bastard, but his eyes were pleading. And Jesus hell, those eyes were Bakugou’s fucking weak spot. Just like that he gave in, and Kirishima beamed.

⚜️

“Hey, Pikachu.”

“Huh?” Kaminari’s head snapped up from his phone. “Oh hey, Bakugou. What’s up, man?” he asked as Bakugou approached. To Bakugou’s fortune, Pikachu was alone as he sauntered across campus toward the boys’ dorm after school, just as he’d hoped to find the loser.

“Help me with somethin’,” he said, falling into step beside the other with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Help you with what?”

“Dumb Hair insisted on getting me some shitty present for Valentine’s day and I gotta get him something too, but I’m shit at picking out gifts for people. So tell me what kinda stuff he’d like, since you know him so well or whatever,” Bakugou explained.

Despite the demanding nature of his request, Kaminari perked up. “Oh yeah? You guys gonna have your own little celebration together?” he asked in that stupid teasing voice Bakugou was already used to (even though that didn’t mean it wasn’t still annoying as fuck).

“Shut up, idiot. Just gimme ideas already.”

“With all the time you guys spend together I’m surprised you don’t know him better than I do already.”

Bakugou huffed in irritation. He was pretty sure he did know Kirishima better than this loser, or as well as he did at the very least. “I fucking do, but I just said I suck at finding gifts."

“Well ya know he’s really into art,” Kaminari said.

“Yeah, but what the hell could I get him that he can’t just find in the art room?”

“Hm… good point. Maybe you could go for some merch instead. He likes Shinedown a lot. And the Zelda games. I dunno if you’ll be able to get to the mall between now and Thursday to get something, though.”

Bakugou was two fucking seconds from walking away from this babbling moron. He was almost no damn help, and—

“Oh!” Kaminari snapped his fingers and smiled. “I know what you can get him.”

“Then fucking spit it out!”

“Okay, okay! So listen…”

⚜️

If Bakugou thought all of the disgusting pink fliers, posters, and decorations going up around the school over the past week for the gross holiday coming up was nauseating already, he had another thing coming that Thursday—the day of, when he swore the whole campus was a sea of shiny pink and white balloons, teddy bears, and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. Several times he had to bat some balloons out of his way and duck around people holding those giant as fuck teddy bears that were bigger than them just to make it to his classes, and before lunch he was already considering skipping out on the rest of the day and going the fuck back to his room for a nap until the school day was over and he could be with his boyfriend again.

(Boyfriend was still a word he was trying to get used to, too, and every time he thought about it in terms of his new relationship, a small version of that electric thrill he felt when he kissed Kirishima skipped up his spine.)

The only thing that kept him from ditching was knowing he had only one more shitty class to get through before science, which meant an entire hour of spending time with Kirishima in the back of the classroom while the rest of the class paid attention to whatever dumb movie their teacher had planned for the day. But of-fucking-course, as luck would have it, that dickweasel Aizawa called him into his office at the end of sixth period for another bullshit check-up meeting that he didn’t get out of until there was only ten minutes left of seventh period. After that, he didn’t even bother going to his last class. The day was already turning out to be complete shit and if he couldn’t spend time with Dumb Hair, he was sure as fuck gonna take a well-deserved nap. So that was what he did.

When he awoke again, it was to the sound of Kirishima entering the room, still wearing his backpack and carrying some type of black plastic bag with something square within it. The light streaming in the window had changed so drastically from when Bakugou had fallen asleep that he sat up with a start and fumbled to see the time, only to find it was damn near six in the evening. He’d slept for four hours.

“Hey, sorry to wake you so suddenly,” Kirishima said, holding his free hand up and smiling apologetically as he shuffled towards his bed.

“‘S fine,” mumbled Bakugou sleepily, already regretting letting himself sleep so damn long and wondering just how fucked up his eyeliner was. “The fuck have you been anyway?” he asked.

“Art room,” Kirishima told him. “I texted you about it, but when I found out you ditched eighth period from Hagakure, I figured you probably came to take a nap so I wasn’t too worried about finding you when you didn’t text back.”

Bakugou was already reading the text message waiting unread on his phone.

>Gonna go work on some art. Meet you back in the room later :)♥

“Shit... “ Bakugou grumbled, rubbing both hands down his face. “I slept way too fucking long.”

“‘S okay, man. It gave me time to finish getting your present ready to, ya know, actually give it to you. And then we can totally ditch the dance and go do something more fun,” he said as he dropped his backpack on his bed and then came over to plop next to Bakugou on his, plastic bag still closed within his fist. It was only then that he noticed the paint all over Dumb Hair’s hands and arms, even smudging his face a little bit with a few new smears on his already stained jeans.

Bakugou fucking knew it, and his gift was gonna be shit in comparison to whatever was in that damn bag. The only hope he had about not feeling like complete shit about his gift was to go first.

“Fine, but lemme give you mine first,” he said, navigating his way through his phone while mentally he worked on waking himself the fuck up.

“Wait—you got me something?” Kirishima asked, and though the happiness in his voice couldn’t be denied, it was accompanied with a certain amount of bewilderment. “You didn’t have to—”

“Shut up, yes I fucking did,” Bakugou said, finally finding the damn confirmation email after passing it for the fourth time. “Since you got something for me and I’m not about to let you be a better fucking boyfriend than me. ‘S s’posed to be equal. So here.” He held the phone in the other’s direction, but Dumb Hair didn’t even look at the thing right away. Instead the little fucker was smiling at him, the softest of looks in his eyes.

“Aw, dude,” he said with a laugh. “You letting me get you something is all I really wanted. Seriously.”

Even though Bakugou swore he felt all of his damn internal organs melt at that damn look and how abso-fucking-lutely cheesy this loser was being, he still clicked his tongue and shoved the phone toward him more. “Too bad. I got you something, now fucking look.”

To no surprise, Kirishima’s smile remained in place as he finally looked down at the phone and gently slipped it from Bakugou’s palm to steady it and read the screen. And then Bakugou could just watch as the dummy’s eyes somehow lit up more than they already were, widening so far Bakugou was half expecting the damn things to fall right out of his skull with his mouth literally popping open.

“Dude!” he half-shouted. “Shinedown tickets?! Seriously?!” he asked, eyes flicking up in mild disbelief to Bakugou’s.

“No, it’s a fake fucking email, you moron. Yes seriously.”

“But aren’t they, like, crazy expensive?!”

Bakugou rolled a shoulder in a half shrug. “Not really,” he said. “I mean, ’cause the seats aren’t all that great since all the better ones were taken already. But I figured it was better than nothing.”

“Are you kidding? It’s awesome!” Kirishima enthused, laughing like a fucking dork as he threw his arms around Bakugou’s neck. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bakugou mumbled, though he returned the embrace with ease. “You gotta thank Pikachu too, though. He’s the one who gave me the idea in the first place. I didn’t even know they were touring this summer.”

“Either way, man, you’re still the one who dropped a couple hundred bucks on tickets. I don’t think I even deserve this.”

Immediately, Bakugou pushed him away, a scowl pressing into his brow. “Why the fuck not?”

“‘Cause, man! My present isn’t nearly this great, and I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant—”

The rest of his sentence was muffled by Bakugou’s hand pressing right to his mouth. “Shut up, you nerd. If you didn’t fucking deserve it, I wouldn’t have done it.” In fact, you deserve a million times better, and this shit was the best I could come up with, he added silently to himself.

Kirishima tugged his hand away from his mouth and in the next instant he was leaning in and pressing his mouth right to Bakugou’s without warning. Despite the surprise Bakugou responded immediately, letting his mouth mold naturally into the other’s. He could still feel the fucker smiling, and that always made his heart jump. This time was no exception.

“Thank you,” Kirishima murmured again, right up against Bakugou’s lips.

“You’re welcome, Shitty Hair. Now are you gonna give me my present or what?”

“Yeah, of course!” Kirishima tugged himself back and turned his whole stupid body so it was facing Bakugou, hefting the bag up into his lap. “I didn’t really spend any money, but I got up super early for several days in a row to do this so I really hope you like it, even if it’s not as great as the gift you got me,” he was saying as he stuck his arm into the bag.

“I doubt that,” Bakugou muttered. “And wait, you got up early? Then how the fuck were you here to wake me up?”

“I made sure to come back in time to do that and get ready,” Kirishima told him. “Especially ‘cause I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

This idiot was too damn good for him…

Just as he started to pull the thing out of the bag, he stopped. “Wait, d’you wanna open it instead?”

“Don’t care, just hurry it up.”

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, pulling the rectangular thing the rest of the way out. It was, as silently predicted, a canvas covered in what was more than likely one of Kirishima’s goddamn masterpieces. He kept the front of it facing himself, though, leaving Bakugou still guessing about what was on the other side. He bit his lip, too, as he gazed down at it, his thin brows tugging together and the smile from before virtually gone.

“What?” Bakugou asked.

“Nothing! I’m just worried you’re not gonna like it.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I like it?”

Dumb Hair shrugged. Bakugou held out his hand. “Lemme see. No way in hell am I not gonna like it,” he said. He’d meant for it to come out harsher—more annoyed—than it did out of habit, but even to him it sounded more like a promise than anything.

So with a deep breath, Kirishima flipped the thing around and watched Bakugou’s face as he took it in.

And… yep. Bakugou had been so fucking right to think his gift wasn’t shit compared to the gorgeous fucking landscape painting carefully and lovingly designed and mapped out across the front of the canvas. It was something Bakugou recognized easily because it was something he’d seen probably a few hundred times in his life already. It was the the thing he’d somehow sort of bonded with in the early hours of the morning after hours upon hours of playing video games… the thing that’d kept him company when he downed his first glass of water after probably twelve hours, giving his fingers and eyes a break from the buttons and television.

It was the sky on a mildly cloudy morning—probably sometime in spring, since there was no fucking way he was gonna go outside during the damn winter when he took his break—just before the sun had broken past the horizon. Its orange rays illuminated the clouds and silhouetted everything in front of it, in this case some trees off to the right and a city with a small ferris wheel toward the left as Kirishima had painted it.

It was so simple, but so fucking gorgeous. Bakugou couldn’t help but think Kirishima had been withholding his skills as a painter from him up until then. And he was utterly speechless.

“Aw, see? I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Kirishima mumbled. “I knew the colors were off, but I was so pressed for time that I decided to just go for it, but maybe I should’ve waited…”

Bakugou caught his wrist as he started to turn the painting back around, stopping him. “The fuck? What ‘off colors’?” he asked. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Once again Kirishima’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Perfect?”

“Isn’t that what I fucking said? Lemme see it again.”

With an innocent, semi-confused blink, Kirishima slid the painting over across their laps and let go of it when Bakugou had ahold of it. He couldn’t stop staring at it! It was fucking incredible. Every stroke of paint had clearly been handled with care. The clouds looked weirdly alive, popping right off the canvas. Colors faded from dark blues and grays to pinks, oranges, yellows, and even purples from top to bottom, getting brighter and more defined toward the horizon. He’d even shown the way the light hit the objects in front of the impending sunrise, illuminating them and making them seem to pop, too. Bakugou could almost feel the cool, morning, dew-scented breeze on his face and hear the damn crickets still hiding in the grass nearby. Fuck, he had a talented boyfriend.

“What made you decide to paint this?” he found himself asking without taking his eyes from the art.

“It’s your favorite time of day,” Dumb Hair answered simply.

That made Bakugou’s head snap up. “What? How’d you know that?” Automatically he was wracking his memory, trying to figure out when the hell he told Kirishima this. Hell, he hadn’t really even known it himself, but once the words were said he could just feel them to be true.

“Just somethin’ I picked up on.”

What the fuck?

“So… you really like it?”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“No…?”

As much as he didn’t really want to, Bakugou cast the painting off to the side. There was a knot starting to form in his stomach from knowing how insecure Kirishima was feeling about the painting, leaving him no choice but to show him how damn much he liked it, and how fucking grateful he was to have someone so stupidly, ridiculously, and amazingly thoughtful in his life.

So with a hand wrapping gently but securely around the back of Dumb Hair’s neck, he leaned forward, tugging the other toward him at the same time while giving the other enough time to stop him before they collided. When he didn’t, he kissed the damn idiot hard.

He’d never, ever, ever get tired of this feeling. Even if that electric thrill stopped shooting down to every single one of his nerve endings, if his stomach stopped fluttering all grossly happy, if his heart stopped jumping and kicking into overdrive whenever their lips met, he’d never get tired of feeling the way Kirishima’s soft mouth always molded so easily into his. He’d always revel in the feeling of those hands, always somewhat scrambling to find a place somewhere on his body to lock onto, to hold him there tighter—longer, if even for a mere second. He’d never get tired of how Kirishima somehow always managed to take the edge of control no matter which one of them initiated the kiss.

Sometimes Bakugou himself wished he could paint, because feeling Kirishima so close to him, his lips moving in a steady rhythm with his own like it was the most natural thing in the world, felt like an explosion of color throughout his entire being, and he wanted to capture it. It sounded fucking weird, he knew, but there was no other way to describe it.

Even if, like this time, Kirishima was the one to pull away, Bakugou was always, always the first to open his eyes. And when he did he’d taken to watching the other until his finally cracked open too, trying to commit to memory that gorgeous fucking look of absolute bliss on his face, accompanied by a faint blush coloring his cheekbones. Every damn time he couldn’t help thinking about how ridiculously lucky he’d gotten, and regretted suppressing the feelings he’d clearly had building up and delaying being able to be like this for so long.

“So… I guess ya like it,” Kirishima said, albeit a bit breathlessly.

“No shit?”

Dumb Hair laughed and kissed him again, short and quick.

⚜️

The two spent the remainder of the evening completely avoiding the dance—and people—but not remaining cooped up in their room by taking Kirishima’s skateboard around to the back of the school building where there was a decently sized slab of concrete and not a single person in sight.

“You ready to try again?”

Bakugou rubbed his knee again and stood up. “Yeah,” he said. “Fuck giving up.”

Kirishima grinned at him. “Your knee is good, yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘S just a scrape. C’mon, let’s do this.”

The familiar clack echoed off the brick wall as Kirishima put the skateboard back down and nudged it toward the other. Their hands came together between them as Bakugou stepped on it for the umpteenth time, keeping one foot on the ground until Kirishima had ahold of his waist.

“No, just do hands,” he told him.

“But—“

“I know I fell last time, but ‘m never gonna fuckin’ learn if you help me balance all the time. Just keep hold of my hand.”

Kirishima didn’t sound too convinced in his “okay…” but did as asked anyway. Again he pulled Bakugou along the sidewalk through the halo of light provided by a lamp hanging from the wall overhead. Bakugou was good, evenly balanced for several feet until he went over one of the bigger cracks in the concrete and lost his balance, tumbling forward straight onto Kirishima who stumbled backward, somehow managing to stay on his feet and steady both of them with his arms around Bakugou.

“Dammit,” Bakugou gritted out through his teeth. “How the fuck do you do this?”

“Lotsa practice,” Kirishima told him.

“If I can’t ride a dumb skateboard how the fuck am I gonna be able to ride a motorcycle?” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry, man. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Whatever. ‘M done for now.”

“Fine with me. I’m gettin’ pretty tired, anyway,” Kirishima said as he kicked up his board and tucking it under his arm, all without letting go of Bakugou’s hand.

“It’s only like eight,” Bakugou said as they started back toward the dorm.

“Yeah, but I’ve been getting up early, remember?”

“Hmph. Baby.”

Kirishima merely stuck his tongue out playfully.

Once back in the room they changed into their pajamas and piled onto Bakugou’s bed with a laptop and a movie on Netflix. Just as Bakugou was getting ready to reach over and turn off the light, warmth met his shoulder and he swore his heart skipped two entire beats when he looked down, finding Kirishima’s head, hair still damp from washing out all the gel, resting in the small curve just below his collarbone.

“Who said I’m your fuckin’ pillow?” he mumbled when the light was out and he’d tucked his arm behind his head.

“I did,” Kirishima mumbled sleepily. “Want me to move?”

“...no,” Bakugou mumbled.

He felt the soft rumble of a chuckle in his side before the other yawned, and he was damn sure the loser could hear his heart pounding. That didn’t stop him from resting an arm around his back and towards his waist where Kirishima’s already was, his own arm wrapped around himself where it was squished between them. When he felt it, Kirishima pushed his fingers through Bakugou’s and yawned again.

“Hey,” he said without really looking up.

“What?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“...yeah, yeah, happy mushy chocolate day to you, too, Dumb Hair.”

The last sound from Kirishima’s throat before he fell asleep right there on Bakugou’s chest only a few minutes later was one more sleepy chuckle. And somehow it wasn’t too much longer before he, too, succumbed to blissful slumber.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Kirishima was a fairly sound sleeper, and it was pretty rare that he woke up not feeling at least decently rested. He’d been blessed with a nice rhythm when it came to sleep-wake cycles, and when he’d messed up his schedule from what it needed to be with school during breaks, it wasn’t too awfully difficult to get back on track.

But sleeping next to Bakugou? Sleeping next to him, using him as a pillow and hearing the elevated beating of his heart right beneath his ear, feeling his warmth soaking into himself and being able to relax completely against him with full trust, even after just a month of being with him? That, oh boy, that was a whole different ball game he never could’ve even imagined just a few weeks, or even days , ago.

He’d never slept so damn well in his entire life. Ever. Even when he was a baby, he was almost certain. Sure, he had a bit of a stiff neck from the slightly awkward position he’d been in for several hours, but that was nothing compared to how well-rested and otherwise comfortable he felt when he woke up, still pressed up against the other’s side.

Surprisingly, neither of them had moved much. Kirishima almost never woke up in the same position he’d fallen asleep in, and he’d witnessed Bakugou’s tossing and turning first hand. The only real difference was one of Bakugou’s knees was propped up and his own leg had stretched out so it hung off the edge of the bed from the knee down.

And yet somehow all he could think about was how brutally they would get teased if any of the others—particularly Kaminari or Sero—saw them like this. Well, that on top of the fact that he really didn’t want to move.

Bakugou looked so peaceful as he slept, his arm tucked under one of his pillows with his head turned toward Kirishima, his hair messy and the remaining eyeliner from the previous day smudged under his eyes just a bit.

He’s so damn gorgeous .

But, unfortunately, as absolutely gorgeous and peaceful as his boyfriend was, Kirishima knew they didn’t have much time to get ready for class. Having fallen asleep with a completely different routine than he was used to caused him to forget to set an alarm on his phone, and the position of the sunspots against the curtains told him they had a good chance of being late if they weren’t already.

“Hey,” he mumbled, sitting up just a little. “Bakugou.” He shook the other’s shoulder lightly, earning a sleepy grumble in response. “C’mon, man, you gotta wake up. I think we’re late.”

“Who fuckin’ cares,” Bakugou grumbled without even opening his eyes.

“I do,” Kirishima said, though it wasn’t without a grin. “C’mon,” he repeated. “You should, too. You want your bike, right?”

“Mmmph… stop throwin’ that in my face.”

This time Kirishima couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Okay, then if you don’t get up ‘m not gonna kiss you at all today.”

That got Bakugou to open his eyes, even if it was only by a sliver. “You’re a dick,” he muttered. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Dunno yet. My phone’s on the table and you’re still kinda pinning me down,” he said, squeezing the hand Bakugou still held, resting up on his ribs.

With a sigh that was more than a little disgruntled, Bakugou released his hand and removed his arm from around Kirishima’s waist, allowing him to sit up and stretch.

“Well shit,” Bakugou said, sitting up with his phone in one hand, the other rubbing his face. “We have like five fucking minutes to get ready.”

Kirishima, suddenly awake, whipped around. “Wait, seriously? What time is it?”

“7:53.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

Usually, Kirishima would be on his feet in an instant, going into overdrive to get himself ready and then haul ass across campus to make it to first period on time, or even a few minutes late if he had to. But shit, he was in too good of a mood and way too hungry to wait until lunch to eat anything so, scratching his head (and catching a few tangles in the process, wincing as his fingers pulled through them), he turned and asked, “Wanna skip first period and go get some breakfast?”

An instant, mildly grumpy frown set on Bakugou’s face. “The mess hall’s not gonna be serving anymore, and no way in hell are they gonna let us off campus.”

“Nah, we can just go get some cereal or something from the kitchen in the lounge and find some morning cartoons to watch or something.”

“Cartoons? Really?”

“Are you really gonna argue with skipping our first class?”

“...cartoons it is.”

Kirishima knew that would work. It was pretty unlike him to skip class. He hadn’t done it since middle school, since that day he’d face-planted into a pile of broken glass and cut his eyelid open, but he figured today could be an exception. Sure, he’d been out sick a few times and missed some days at the beginning of semesters because of being on vacation with his family, but other than that he was completely punctual. He figured one measly class period couldn’t hurt, especially because it was senior year . He deserved it. And, having gone to every class since the beginning of the semester save for the previous day’s eighth period, Bakugou deserved it, too.

So cereal and morning reruns of old cartoons it was, and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

⚜️

Kirishima would remember the next few weeks as being some of the absolute best in his entire high school career. For once classes were going really smoothly and he had the least amount of homework he’d had since probably elementary school, even with upcoming tests. Studying was a cinch—which was good, because more often than not his studying habits were averted by a certain blonde who could hardly seem to care less about studying. (Kirishima made sure to keep him on track, though; his grades were pretty damn decent, especially in comparison to those in previous years of high school. It was easy to see that the decline in his grades could be chalked up to lack of trying, not lack of intelligence.)

When they weren’t studying, which was most of the time, they spent almost all the time they could together. It was a given. They continued to go on dates, some doubling with Jirou and Kaminari, some not. Game nights and movie days with the group remained virtually the same, though as they hadn’t before they sat so much closer to each other and made it clear that they were together to anyone who might not have known better (even though at this point they were pretty sure the whole damn school knew; whether they cared or not was a different story).

They both made their way fairly easily through whatever exams popped up here and there, but eventually had to take their study dates to the library, the mess hall, or a coffee shop not too far off campus that other students frequented to keep them from getting distracted with each other during times they were serious about studying. (Well, Kirishima was serious; he always had to be the one to practically drag his boyfriend along and get him to do his homework—but never failed to reward him with kisses and things later).

Gradually, because they spent so much time together, the awkwardness that had held between them for the first few weeks of their relationship as they navigated their way through, learning things about each other and growing more comfortable with each other in a more intimate space, dissipated. Kirishima had never been so freaking comfortable with someone before. Of course he still asked permission to kiss or touch Bakugou when he wasn’t absolutely sure it was okay (and even then he hinted at wanting to do it, and let the other either accept or reject his touch from there without words (and he almost always accepted it)), and Bakugou picked up on this and did it, too, even with the slight pinkening of the tips of his ears whenever he did. He found he could feel almost… vulnerable around Bakugou, even when he didn’t think he really had anything to feel vulnerable about.

And he felt alive. Somehow he seemed to have so much more inspiration than he had before, which said something . He painted—a lot . And of course, Bakugou accompanied him to the art room whenever he went on weekends or after school. It felt so stupid and sappy, but even then he found he didn’t care. He was happy , and ridiculously so. There was nothing anyone could say or do that would change that.

⚜️

Come the nearing end of March, talk of Spring Break was already starting to pop up around campus. Fliers about a pre-break barbecue started to go up around campus that would be held the Thursday before break began after eighth period and was free to all students. The group—Mina, Kaminari, and Jirou in particular—were already buzzing about the break despite it still being about a month away. Obviously, Jirou and Kaminari had every intention of spending theirs together as planned, and Mina was enthusing about her trip with her family to the coast.

“I can’t freaking wait to see that big, blue ocean again,” she gushed with a sparkle that could almost literally be seen in her eye.

Sero, as usual, had no special plans other than to help out at his family’s business, but it was clear enough that he was excited to see them again.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was just happy that the weather was finally warming back up. Less and less he complained about the cool morning air, and eventually it got to the point where they were able to leave their hoodies and sweatshirts in the room for the day (even if Bakugou’s fingers still got a bit chilly, though Kirishima was always more than happy to warm them up for him before they parted ways to go to first period).

Neither of them spoke of their Spring Break plans, though. Kirishima couldn’t help feeling a slight pang of jealousy whenever Jirou and Kami talked about being able to spend their entire week together, knowing that it would be more than likely that he’d spend nearly the entire week by himself, away from Bakugou who probably had plans with his parents, too. For some reason he found himself reluctant to ask Bakugou what his plans were until the break was just over two weeks away.

They were on one of their walks around the outskirts of the campus when he brought it up.

“Hey, so I never asked. What are your plans for break?”

“Nothing,” Bakugou deadpanned, eyes on the ground. The sole of his shoe scuffed the ground as he kicked a stick out of his way.

“More video games, huh?” Kirishima asked with a light, barely-there grin.

“Hmph. I fuckin’ wish.”

“Huh? Whattaya mean?”

“‘M not even going home,” he said. “My parents are going on this shitty annual roadtrip thing the same week. Mom said since I’ve been on ‘good behavior,’ whatever the fuck that means, I don’t have to go. But that means I have to stay here ‘cause I won’t have a way there or back unless I wanna spend all my fucking money on a bus trip.”

“So you’d rather stay here than go on a trip with your parents?” Kirishima mumbled, confused. He knew Bakugou wasn’t big on his family or anything, but even this seemed a little odd.

“I’d rather stay here than be trapped in a tiny ass car for twelve hours at a time with my parents and my nieces, since they decided those two shitbrains are old enough to go this year.”

A snort escaped Kirishima’s nose at the word ‘shitbrains,’ but the amusement was short-lived. “But… you know hardly anybody’s gonna be here, right? Like, you’ll be pretty much all alone.”

“Yup.”

The conversation fell short then and they walked along in silence. Kirishima couldn’t help feeling a little… disappointed after that. He was gonna be alone all break, too, but at least he got to go home . Just thinking about staying alone on a practically deserted campus had him feeling a little depressed. It would’ve been better if at least one person could stay with him so that—

“Then I’ll stay with you,” he said suddenly.

Bakugou’s head snapped in his direction. “What?”

“Yeah, man.” His smile came back easily. “Why not? I don’t want you to be alone all Spring Break. And… I was kinda disappointed in the fact that I wouldn’t get to see you all week, anyway.”

The other’s eyes narrowed. “But don’t you wanna go spend time with your mom or whatever?”

“Of course I do, but she’s gonna be on a cruise with my aunt so I’d be home alone myself all week, anyway. Might as well just stay here with you instead, right?” A bubble of giddiness was rising from Kirishima’s stomach with each word. Spending all break with Bakugou, virtually alone, sounded freaking amazing, even if they were still at school.

Bakugou looked away once more, and Kirishima didn’t miss the tightening of his hand in his own. “‘M not gonna fuckin’ ask you to do that, but do what you want,” he mumbled.

Kirishima had gotten pretty damn good at reading his boyfriend and knew that those little gestures—the hand tightening and the way he’d passive-aggressively look away—spoke volumes. He wanted Kirishima to stay, but he was too prideful to actually say it. Without a second thought, he knew he’d be making a phone call to his mom as soon as they got back to the room.

Bakugou

Bakugou sat on his bed shaking his leg and trying to distract himself with his phone while Kirishima was outside pacing the hall on the phone with his mom. He didn’t get why he was so fucking nervous . It wasn’t the thought of spending an entire week virtually alone with his boyfriend that had him on edge—fuck no. He was goddamn ecstatic about that possibility; it was pretty much all he’d been wanting since the second they’d made things official between them. No, he was paranoid that Kirishima’s mom would tell him no.

“Don’t worry, man, I’m not gonna tell her we’re dating,” Kirishima had assured him when they were almost back to the boys’ dorm. “Not that I think she’d mind, but I won’t risk her saying no like that.”

How the fuck Dumb Hair could tell that that was something he was afraid of, Bakugou would never fucking understand. He was, however, glad that the idiot somehow managed to pick up on little things like that so he didn’t have to embarrass himself and say it out loud.

His heart jumped like it was a fucking pogo stick when he heard the door open and his head snapped up. Kirishima’s face was unreadable as he slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, phone gripped in one hand. Bakugou tried to remain as casual as possible by lowering his own phone into his lap and propping a leg up.

“So?” he mumbled.

“So… she didn’t say no,” Kirishima began, taking a seat on the unoccupied end of Bakugou’s bed.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means she said she was cool with it when I explained why I would be staying…” Kirishima mumbled, spinning his phone between his fingers and deliberately not looking Bakugou in the eye, which sort of infuriated him with how fucking anxious he felt.

“But?” he pressed, unable to help himself and leaned forward.

“She kinda had a better idea?” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

For the first time in several days, a blush started to dust its pink, merry little way across Kirishima’s cheeks, even if it was subtle. “She said it’s cool if I stay here with you, but she also said it’d be cool if uh, if you came and stayed with me at my place for the week instead. I mean, if you want to, of course. And if it’s okay with your parents, too.”

Bakugou sat back again, processing. “... she said that, or did you ask her first?”

Kirishima shook his head. “Nope, she came up with it. She was like, ‘If he can’t go home, why not let him stay with you for the week? Then neither of you will be alone and you’ll have a friend to hang out with.’ No joke.”

Well, shit. Something like that wasn’t something Bakugou’s hag of a mother would ever suggest. And he… couldn’t really see her being okay with something like that, either, as much as he suddenly really fucking wanted to go . A week alone with Kirishima was one thing, but a week along with him at his damn house , and truly alone ? That definitely wasn’t something he thought would—or could—happen any time soon.

“So it’s up to you, Bakugou,” Kirishima continued. “If you don’t wanna, I get it. We can just hang here—”

“Why in the hell would you think I don’t wanna? ‘S my damn mother that’s gonna be the problem.”

“...you really don’t think she’ll go for it?”

Bakugou ran a hand through his hair, his teeth catching one of his lip rings in thought. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe. If she knew we’re dating, no way in fucking hell would she. But I don’t have to fucking tell her that.”

“Exactly.”

And she liked Kirishima enough , he thought. She had. Seriously—she’d asked about him several times via text since they met. He couldn’t fucking blame her, obviously. He liked the little fucker, too. But was that enough to get his mom to go for it? Who the fuck knew, but he wanted this enough that there was no way he wasn’t about to try.

⚜️

Calling his mom was a chore, as it always was. She made him talk to his dad (which was always a lot easier) and scolded him for not calling often enough, to which he’d not-so-politely reminded her that phones worked both fucking ways. It seemed he caught her in a good mood, though, because for once the hag had actually relented and admitted that he was right, which gave him all the incentive he needed to break the question to her.

“Look, so my roommate offered to let me stay with him over spring break so I don’t have to stay alone on this shitty campus. It’s fine with his mom and everything since she’s going out of town too, but I figured I had to ask you and Dad before I just did it so you wouldn’t yell at me and make my ears bleed later or someshit.”

“Ohh, your roommate, huh?” She sounded so much more perky all the sudden at the mention of Kirishima. “He was a really nice kid. Kirishima, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Given your good behavior recently, I don’t see why that should be a problem. But ,” she emphasized before he could say anything, “I’ll have to talk to your father and I’m going to wait until after my phone conference with Mr. Aizawa next week to make a final decision about it.”

He’d seen that coming from a thousand fucking miles away. Never in his life had his mother agreed to something so quickly, and there was no damn reason why she was about to start now. But because he wanted this so stupidly much, he tried to be at least… sort of nice to her for the rest of the conversation and had to force himself from making some excuse to cut it short when she continued to talk after the subject went away from Spring Break, even if he was gonna have to endure a shitty headache when she finally let him hang up. (He loved his mom, he did, but she seriously knew how to push his buttons and she never really needed an excuse to do just that.)

“Sooo, what’d she say?” Dumb Hair asked when Bakugou finally hung up the stupid phone. Kirishima had been sitting quietly in front of him for the whole conversation, keeping hold of his hand in silent support.

Bakugou relayed the message, which didn’t fail to put that big, dumb smile back on the idiot’s face. Already he was hopeful. Bakugou could only hope himself that Kirishima was hopeful enough for both of them, because he wasn’t holding his breath.

⚜️

The shitty phone conference with Aizawa wasn’t until Monday, three days before the school barbecue and the beginning of the break, so the next week felt like a fucking nightmare because they were kept waiting. Bakugou’s mom refused to tell him what his dad said about the whole thing, and his dad neglected to respond to his text when he decided to shoot him one (which wasn’t a surprise; his dad didn’t give a shit about technology and rarely texted as it was).

If concentrating on studying was hard before, it was next to impossible now and he had to wing his way through his math test.

And despite all the stupid, gross anticipation and being anxious about knowing what the fuck they were going to tell him when his mom finally did call him, he had trouble actually answering the damn phone when it lit up with her contact name.

Fortunately, Kirishima was right there and tapped the green icon, giving him no other choice but to press the stupid thing up to his ear and brace himself for the rejection he was almost sure was gonna come.

He could hardly look away from his boyfriend as he talked to her, and was again silently grateful that Dumb Hair kept hold of his hand for support (not that he needed it , of course). And when he did hang up, having done his best to keep his face and answers passive enough that her answer wouldn’t be given away to Kirishima right away, the other’s big, hopeful eyes stuck right on his, the question so obvious in his irises that he needn’t say a word.

“So I guess we should start packing,” was all he said.

“Hell yeah!” Kirishima exclaimed, throwing his arms straight around Bakugou’s neck. Being enveloped by him like that made Bakugou’s heart fucking sing , and while he sucked at hugs, he could never help himself from returning the embrace without a second thought. “I told you she’d say yes!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bakugou grumbled. But even he couldn’t help his smile.

Chapter Text

Bakugou

The last few days leading up to Spring Break felt fucking long . The entire campus seemed like it was ready collapse into Spring Break, and no one—least of all Bakugou—could concentrate very well in any class. Most of the teachers were feeling it, too, and more than half of Bakugou’s decided to trash their lesson plans for the last two days and either put on some film relevant to their subject or, in one case, let the class do whatever the fuck they wanted and call it ‘study time’ until the bell rang.

And of course, when the eighth period bell rang, not even that put an end to his waiting. At the last damn second of seventh, Dumb Hair told him he wanted to go to the stupid barbecue.

“If it’s alright with you, anyway,” he’d said.

How the hell could Bakugou say no? It was like one dumb little look from Kirishima had him giving in even though there was no way he’d go to the barbecue otherwise or for any other reason—not even free food. But it was Kiri-fucking-shima, who had him wrapped right around his finger.

The whole fucking school was there, too, on the track field where they were serving the food. Crowds of people mulled about, eating and talking, some already with their shitty suitcases like they were planning on grabbing food and escaping as soon as they could. Bakugou had to admit he was a bit jealous of them for it, but he still didn’t regret his decision to let Kirishima drag him along by the hand toward where the rest of the group was standing near the drinks looking way too fucking happy.

Admittedly, it wasn’t too bad hanging out with them a little while longer while they ate. The dumb barbecue didn’t last all that long as it was; less than an hour in, people were already heading out, hopping into cars with their parents or whoever, or heading to the bus stop. It felt like he and Kirishima were some of the last few off campus when they finally went back for their bags and headed for the stop themselves.

“‘S only about an hour to the station closest to my house by bus,” he said when they sat down to wait. “And then we only have to walk a few blocks to get there.”

“Ugh,” Bakugou mumbled.

“Aw c’mon, man. I thought you liked walking.”

“I do, but not when there’s a hundred fucking pounds of shit on my back.”

“Hey, you didn’t pack that much.”

“...whatever.”

The bus pulled up soon after, brakes squealing obnoxiously as it slowed to a halt. Bakugou was the first to stand up among the two of them, making sure he was the first one on. He wasn’t about to let Kirishima get all the glory of paying for everything , even if his family was ‘better off than most’ or whatever. He slid his card through the reader before Dumb Hair could even blink. To Bakugou’s surprise, he didn’t say a thing as they took their seats, either.

The ride felt shorter than he’d anticipated. Bakugou fucking hated long car rides, and being on a bus with more than a dozen other people, and with all the shitty bumps in the road only made it worse. Thankfully the hour felt more like half an hour, what with Kirishima keeping him distracted with his stupid YouTube videos for most of the trip. Even when they finally made it to their stop, he was in too good of a mood to even complain about the fact that ‘a few blocks’ turned out to be more like a mile… and that a lot of it was uphill. (And damn was he glad he stayed in shape…)

Bakugou didn’t really know what he’d been expecting when they got to Kirishima’s house, but he sure as fuck wasn’t expecting what he saw. It was fucking huge , at least in comparison to his tiny, two-storey house tucked into a typical neighborhood.

Kirishima’s house was in a neighborhood, but the houses were five times as spread out as the one Bakugou was used to. From the outside alone he could tell there were at least three floors, and it had big windows and a few small balconies and was constructed of what looked like some expensive-as-fuck brick. It was clearly some upper-middle class shit Bakugou had never really even seen before.

“What the fuck?” he blurted, stopping in his tracks just before Dumb Hair started up the stone—yes, fucking stone —walkway toward the big double doors.

“What?” Dumb Hair asked, turning around.

But Bakugou wasn’t even looking at him. He was still staring at the house. “You didn’t tell me you live in a mini fucking mansion.”

Bakugou felt the smile more than he saw it. “‘S not really a mansion,” he said. “We inherited it when my dad passed away. I already told you I’m not rich or anything.”

Someone obviously had been, though, or at least damn close to it.

As he followed Kirishima the rest of the way up to the door, he found himself asking, “Remind me what the hell your mom does for a living again…”

“She’s a massage therapist,” Dumb Hair told him simply, twisting his key in the lock to push the door open. “I told you, man. We’re not rich. The house is already completely paid for so mom only has to pay for basic stuff, like utilities and all that, which is why she has the extra money. This house was my grandparents’ and was left to my dad, but since he’s gone we got it. I promise it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bakugou mumbled (even though he still wasn’t entirely convinced).

He half expected the door to open into a huge foyer or someshit, with glass chandeliers and all that other ridiculous bullshit you see in movies, but it didn’t. It opened into a normal, carpeted living room—a huge living room, at that, but a living room nonetheless. It had high ceilings and windows. Paintings, some Bakugou immediately recognized as Kirishima’s art, decorated the walls. There was a pretty damn big leather couch and a few matching reclining chairs facing inward towards a wall-mounted television. And while this one room was fancy in and of itself (at least, in Bakugou’s opinion), it was still homey. It held a specific kind of smell and there were clear signs it was lived in , and not just some room out of some home magazine or whatever.

“Uh, so Mom doesn’t like dirt tracked in, so take your shoes off here,” Kirishima told him once inside the door, pointing to a small mat where he’d kicked his own shoes off. Still gawking like an idiot at the living room, Bakugou fumbled to do the same.

“C’mon, let’s go put our stuff up in my room and I’ll show you around,” Kirishma was saying, already halfway to the stairs. Bakugou managed to tear his eyes away and follow him up.

Kirishima’s room was almost twice the freaking size of Bakugou’s at home, and very nearly as big as the dorm they shared back at school. The idiot had his own queen sized bed and television on top of a stand with a few different gaming systems sitting in the cubby hole. There was even a corner with a freaking easel and a desk filled with art supplies. Not only that, but across the room from the door was a set of freaking glass doors , leading out onto a goddamn balcony .

“Baku, relax,” Kirishima said, though not without an amused grin on his face as he dumped his things on the end of his bed. “It’s just a room.”

“It’s fucking huge,” Bakugou muttered.

Kirishima shrugged. “Yeah. I got lucky, I guess. My mom’s room is bigger, though. But seriously, it’s just a normal house, even if it’s a little bigger than the average home.”

Bakugou managed to keep his face nonchalant as he dropped his shit next to the other’s. Once he got over the shock of the fact that his boyfriend’s room was ridiculous , he took a moment to actually look around. There were posters but no paintings. But of course there weren’t—Kirishima was too damn humble to hang his own paintings up in his room, meaning the ones Bakugou had seen downstairs and in the hallway were probably there because of his mom.

The posters were of different bands, mostly, but he had a few from video games and movies, too. The walls underneath were a simple white, and the bedsheets were typical of Kirishima—red. A few clearly used skateboards were hung on what looked like a hand-crafted wooden rack above the bed. There was a single lamp on the table beside the bed, the only other light fixture being from the redwood fan in the ceiling—not that it was needed. The damn balcony doors let in plenty of daylight.

“C’mon, take off your backpack. I wanna show you the rest of the house… I mean, as long as you promise not to freak out on me,” Dumb Hair said with a laugh that, even with the distraction of everything around him as he took it all in, still made Bakugou’s insides flutter.

It felt kind of dumb to hold Kirishima’s hand as they walked through the house, but Bakugou wasn’t about to let go once the other’s fingers threaded gently through his own. In a sort of daze, he let his boyfriend lead him around the place.

His mom’s room was bigger; Bakugou was pretty sure he could drop his own room inside of it and completely fucking lose it. Of course, that shit had its own bathroom and a balcony, too, overlooking the backyard that, for some reason, Dumb Hair wouldn’t let him see yet. The last bedroom on that floor was merely a guest room that Kirishima only briefly pointed out before heading toward the bathroom that was clearly primarily his, judging by the red shower curtain going around the… rather large round bathtub with not one, not two, but three goddamn shower heads on the ceiling. Again, Bakugou was pretty sure he’d lose his own bathroom in this one.

All the first floor consisted of was the huge living room, a kitchen, and a dining room where there was, of fucking course , a third set of glass doors leading out into the backyard and onto a large covered, concrete patio.

Bakugou… really, really shouldn’t have been surprised to find a pool back there, too, built into the ground and filled with blue, chlorine-scented water and everything. And he should’ve expected it when Dumb Hair told him it was heated, and because they rarely got any snow they didn’t have to drain it every year.

The basement was the last thing Kirishima showed him, or so he thought. It was considerably smaller than he was expecting, given the rest of the house, but it was immediately his favorite part. It was dark, completely underground, and had what looked like some sort of freaking studio lighting. The sectional couch facing a huge brick fireplace with another TV mounted above it was somehow even bigger than the one in the living room and took up most of the space. There was a bar area, too, and a table that looked like it was for Poker or something.

Seriously, the only thing keeping Bakugou from thinking he was walking through a designer fucking house, even if it wasn’t as big as an actual mansion, was the evidence it was lived in. It was clean, but not spotless. Some of the furniture had clear wear and scratches, there were spots where the carpet was frayed or the wood floor was scuffed. There were dishes in the kitchen sink waiting to be washed and the bathrooms Had a few things laying around on the sink. The fireplace in the basement was clearly used often, and not everything was completely and utterly organized in cabinets like he half expected them to be.

“This room’s my favorite,” Dumb Hair said, somehow mirroring Bakugou’s thoughts exactly, “second only to the garage.”

Immediately, Bakugou gave him a confused look. “The fuck? The garage?”

“Aw, you don’t remember?” Kirishima said, smiling.

“Huh?”

“S’okay. I told you a long time ago. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Bakugou let himself once again be led by the hand back across the house and to a door in the dining room he hadn’t even noticed before. It led to a three-car garage, a third of it taken up by a large workbench and tools. A lot of tools, and paint. In the center of it, clearly untouched for weeks, if not months, was a slab of wood in the shape of a polished skateboard.

“Holy shit, you weren’t fucking kidding,” he blurted.

“What, did you think I was?” Kirishima asked as he led him toward the table.

“No. I dunno…”

“This is the one I told you about before,” the other continued, running his hands along the smooth wood. “It’s probably the sturdiest one I’ve made yet. I finished the base over Winter Break, but I wasn’t able to start painting yet.”

“And you seriously did all this shit yourself?” Bakugou was still gawking idiotically at all the tools, some he recognized and could probably name, others completely foreign to him. Shit , he was impressed!

“Yep. ‘S why my hands are a little rough.” Kirishima held up the hand that wasn’t occupied by Bakugou’s. “It’s worth it, though.”

“Obviously,” Bakugou muttered. He fucking liked the roughness of Kirishima’s hands, though they weren’t all that bad.

“Sooo,” Dumb Hair said, dragging out the word. “Whattaya think?”

For the first time in probably ten minutes, Bakugou’s eyes met his boyfriend’s. “Of what? This giant ass house or this?” he asked, gesturing at the work table.

“Both.”

“...I dunno,” Bakugou mumbled, already glancing away again. “‘S pretty cool, I guess.” Fuck , he hated blushing, but already he felt that shitty warmth rising to his face, especially when Dumb Hair laughed and bumped shoulders with him.

“C’mon, you know you’re at least a little impressed,” he said. “‘S fine. I’m not judging.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bakugou mumbled.

When Kirishima’s stupid, melodic laughter died down he said, “Anyway, ya hungry? I asked Mom to stock the kitchen before she left so there’s probably somethin’ I can whip together.”

“Since when do you cook?” Bakugou asked in disbelief.

Kirishima shrugged. “Since a while. I can make basic stuff, like mac and cheese and spaghetti, but ‘s not like I can make a whole Christmas dinner or anything.”

Bakugou let out a snort. “I’d be surprised if you could.”

“Heyy, are you doubting my skills?” Kirishima joked as they headed back toward the door.

“I dunno, does it sound like I am?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then yes, I am,” Bakugou said, but even he had a grin.

“Hmph. Watch me prove you wrong, then,” Dumb Hair said proudly as they stepped back into the house. “And then you will be impressed!”

“We’ll see about that,” retorted Bakugou just as the other let go of his hand and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to follow on his own.

Honestly, Bakugou was impressed, to say the least. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe him about making his own damn skateboards; it was one thing to hear it and a completely different thing to see it. On top of that, he honestly wouldn’t have given a fuck what Kirishima’s house looked like, even if he lived in a rundown little shack or whatever. He just wanted to spend the week with his boyfriend and forget about the rest of the world—the house was just a cool bonus—and that was exactly what he was gonna do. He already knew it was gonna be a damn good Spring Break.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Kirishima almost, almost thought he’d dreamt up the whole ‘Bakugou coming home with him for break’ thing when he woke up on the first day of break, but when he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was a messy tuft of blonde hair using his left arm as a pillow, all he could do was smile like the sap he knew he was turning into. Even he had to admit it felt almost too damn good to be true when Bakugou’s parents agreed to let him stay over, having said he’d been on ‘good enough behavior and had grades decent enough’ to let him do it. It wasn’t really until waking up that morning that Kirishima was able to believe it was real . And if he hadn’t been so stupidly happy about it, he probably would’ve tucked himself back around his boyfriend more securely and gone back to sleep, but the silly bubble of excitement he held wasn’t about to let him.

As much as he wanted to wake Bakugou up and get their day started, he already knew how much of a grump his boyfriend could be when woken up before he was ready and he figured there was no real reason to, so he let him sleep. He didn’t even have the heart to risk waking him up by attempting to free his arm, so simply laid there in his own cloud of warm bliss for a while, alternating between keeping his eyes closed and listening to the soft, even breathing of the other and opening them to watch what little he could see of Bakugou’s face, completely peaceful as he slept.

Just when Kirishima was about to somehow doze off again, Bakugou finally stirred and grumbled a little, shifting his weight. Kirishima’s eyes practically flew open to see him shift onto his back (and halfway onto Kirishima as he did so). His eyes were just beginning to peek open but as soon as he realized where he was, they opened just as fast—if not faster—than Kirishima’s.

“Shit,” he grumbled, sitting up a little and moving himself over so he wasn’t lying halfway on the other.

“Mornin’,” Kirishima said with an inevitable sleepy smile, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand. “How’d ya sleep?”

Bakugou blinked at him, seemingly a bit dazed for a second before mumbling, “Fine. You?”

“Good,” Kirishima told him with a somewhat involuntary laugh, at which Bakugou narrowed his eyes into a glare.

“What’s funny?” he grumbled, sitting the rest of the way up.

Kirishima followed his lead. “Nothin’,” he assured. “‘M just super happy you’re here is all. I dunno why but when I first woke up I thought the whole thing was a dream.”

“Hmph…” Bakugou ran a hand through his hair a few times, mumbling, “Weirdo.” He tossed the blanket off of his lap and said, “Gotta use the bathroom.”

“‘Kay,” Kirishima said as he shuffled out of the room. He couldn’t help noticing the wrinkles in Bakugou’s t-shirt or the way his pajama pants were slightly twisted or the fact that one of his socks was halfway off of his feet. These were all usual things he’d seen before while rooming with him, especially the way his hair was smashed down in some places and sticking out in abnormal ways (from its usual spiky nature, that was), but somehow Kirishima found it more… endearing that morning. He knew it probably had something to do with the fact that they were in his house, in his room , and not at school and the fact that Bakugou was, well, his boyfriend who’d just slept next to him for the second time ever.

While he waited, he responded to a text message from his mom and checked the rest of the notifications that had built up on his phone overnight before clearing the unimportant ones. That was all he had time to do before Bakugou was walking back in. Looking a little less disheveled and a little more awake, he flopped down onto the bed in front of the other.

“Hungry?” Kirishima asked.

“Kinda question is that? Does a bear shit in the woods?”

With a grin (that had never really gone away to begin with), Kirishima said, “Me too. Let’s go make breakfast.”

“What, you cook breakfast, too?” Bakugou asked as the other moved toward the end of the bed to stand up.

“Hey, don’t sound so surprised! You liked the spaghetti I made last night, remember?”

“Whatever,” Bakugou said in his usual manner, though this time with a subtle (and slightly cocky) grin of his own, moving back to the end of the bed himself.

Automatically, Kirishima reached for the other’s hand as soon as he stood up. “C’mon, I think I saw some pancake mix in the fridge. You like ‘em with chocolate chips?”

“Who the fuck doesn’t like chocolate chip pancakes?” Bakugou retorted.

“Touche, but I figured I’d ask. Let’s go—”

“Wait,” Bakugou said just as Kirishima started toward the door. He was tugged back toward the other and turned with a confused frown starting to manifest onto his face until Bakugou said, “Why the fuck haven’t you kissed me good morning, Shitty Hair?”

Leave it to Bakugou to cause Kirishima’s heart to kick into overdrive first thing in the morning not ten minutes after he’d woken up. Regardless, that frown instantly relaxed. “I didn’t know you wanted me to,” he said.

“Well I do.”

“Well that’s all you had to say, man,” Kirishima told him, swiveling to face Bakugou head on. He wasted no more time talking and reached up to gently slide his hands around to the back of Bakugou’s neck. Despite the fact that he had butterflies (he always had butterflies when he did this), Kirishima felt a surge of confidence as he closed the distance between them and Bakugou’s hands grasped at his waist.

It didn’t matter that Bakugou was just slightly taller than him or that he had the harsher, more demanding personality between the two—he always seemed to relax under Kirishima’s touch, their torsos resting gently against one another, mouths even just barely having molded together, and give in to his control—control he was more than happy to take.

Kirishima wasn’t sure Bakugou was even aware of the small, quiet hums of pleasure that escaped his throat when they kissed, and he wasn’t about to bring it to his attention for fear that Bakugou would stop doing it. He liked those sounds, just as he liked the way Bakugou’s hands tended to pull him closer, trying to drag out the kiss a little longer. His skin always felt warmer wherever Bakugou touched him, even if it was through his clothing.

It was… sort of rare that their kisses were just simple pecks, or even relatively short-lived, at least when they were alone. As much as it saddened him to think about, Kirishima was pretty sure it was just part of the dumb ‘honeymoon phase’ they were still in, but damn was he gonna enjoy it while it lasted.

All too soon as always, Bakugou’s mouth broke from his though neither of them pulled completely back right away.

“So… g’morning,” Kirishima murmured, not even having opened his eyes yet.

“...morning,” Bakugou murmured back in that soft, almost tender tone he spoke in when they were in their own bubble of intimate space, the one he used that told Kirishima he was really feeling affectionate and cared for. The one that turned Kirishima’s insides into complete mush …

Just as he was reopening his eyes, Bakugou’s chin tilted forward to capture another kiss, this time actually being a peck, and Kirishima couldn’t help but return it… twice, feeling Bakugou’s hands tighten even further around his waist when he did.

“So, uh… breakfast?” Kirishima asked, head foggy when he reluctantly took a step back and habitually rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, ‘m starving,” Bakugou mumbled, some of the usual roughness having returned to his voice.

As Kirishima took hold of the other’s hand again and started toward the door once more, he said, “You could’ve kissed me first too, ya know.”

“...be quiet. Let’s just go make the damn pancakes,” Bakugou retorted in a grumble.

⚜️

While the next couple of days weren’t super eventful, Kirishima knew he wouldn’t have wanted to spend them any other way than how they did. One of the first things he’d wanted to do after breakfast that first morning was head to the garage and work on his board, and show Bakugou how he did it. Much to his delight, Bakugou seemed almost just as interested in seeing it as he was excited to get back to work. They spent more time in the garage doing just that—Bakugou watching and listening (as patiently as Kirishima—or anyone ever, probably—ever saw him be) as he worked and explained until he was truly ready to start painting.

On a few occasions he couldn’t help asking Bakugou if he was getting bored, especially when he did start painting, to which the other’s reply was always the same.

“If I was bored I’d tell you, Dumb Hair.”

And then he’d go back to leaning against Kirishima’s shoulder and watching. It didn’t take long for Kirishima to get used to the rhythm of light, warm puffs of breath on his neck and ear as he was being watched. With Bakugou there it was somehow so much easier for him to get into his art groove and before he knew it a few hours had gone by on multiple occasions.

They didn’t spend all their time in the garage, though. Bakugou made it clear that he wasn’t about to “leave this giant ass house without kicking your ass at at least a couple video games,” which they spent the majority of the first couple of nights doing. Kirishima wasn’t going to let him leave without showing him around town a little, either. He took Bakugou to a few of his favorite stores and treated him to lunch at one of his favorite family-owned ramen shops.

One of their trips had them ending up at Kirishima’s favorite skate park, too (and if you asked he’d tell you he most definitely didn’t plan on it, even though he’d brought one of his boards along), and because it was on one of the chillier days (much to Bakugou’s irritation) there weren’t many people there when they showed up (much to Bakugou’s delight ). It didn’t take a whole lot of convincing on Kirishima’s part to continue trying to teach Bakugou how to skate again.

They kept it on flat ground, of course, and on the largest portion of concrete they could find without any cracks or bumps to mess him up. Things went pretty well—at first, anyway. Bakugou was having a much better time balancing than he had at school on Valentine’s Day. Just as he was getting to the point where he could move without holding onto Kirishima, though, and Kirishima had given him a push, he almost immediately lost his balance and fumbled. As he went down, hands extended instinctively to break his fall, his feet got tangled up with the board and not only ripping his jeans halfway up to his knee, but left a bad scrape on his left shin.

“Shit, are you okay?!” Kirishima had gasped, rushing over to him where he sat on the concrete… laughing .

“ Fuck , that scared me,” he snickered. “Shit hurt, too.”

“I’m really sorry, man.” Kirishima’s hands were hovering around him, trying to figure out what to do while Bakugou was just grinning. “I didn’t think I pushed you that hard.”

“‘S fine, Shitty Hair. I just scraped my hands and knees a little.”

“...and your shin,” Kirishima told him, albeit timidly and pointing down at where his jeans were ripped and the scrape on his calf was starting to weep tiny droplets of blood.

“ Shit ,” Bakugou hissed, reaching down and tugging the fabric out of the way. “I didn’t even fucking feel that.”

“Here, come on. We should get to the bathroom and clean you up a bit. If you think you can make it home, I’ll bandage you up there.”

“Please, Kiri. I didn’t break my fuckin’ arm.”

“I know, but—”

Kirishima’s words were cut off instantly by Bakugou’s hand—still with dirt and gravel stuck into the heel of his hand—wrapped underneath his jaw and tugged him forward for a chaste kiss. “Stop bein’ so dramatic, Hair for Brains. I’m fine.”

“...right,” Kirishima mumbled, slightly dazed from the kiss.

He didn’t take no for an answer when they got back to the house about bandaging up Bakugou’s right knee (that had made contact with the ground first and was bleeding, too) and left shin. He even insisted upon spraying some antiseptic on his palms where they were red and just a little torn up from slamming into the concrete. He kept mumbling apologies over and over and it wasn’t until Bakugou reached up and literally pinched his lips shut and told him to ‘shut the fuck up’ that he made himself stop.

⚜️

Later that night they found themselves on the couch in the basement with a movie on. In spite of the huge sectional, the both of them occupied the same reclining section. Bakugou laid in his usual position—on his back with a hand resting behind his head—while Kirishima was using his chest as a makeshift pillow, an arm draped lazily across his stomach. They’d just eaten leftover spaghetti and were already in their pajamas; Bakugou claimed he was ‘too damn tired’ from his small adrenaline rush from his earlier fall to do anything but watch a movie. Kirishima suspected he was sort of using it as an excuse to want to cuddle because he didn’t really seem that tired, but could he really argue?

Bakugou’s free hand, where it would usually be around Kirishima’s waist in this position, was instead running gently through his hair, tugging it away from his face and tangling his fingers through it every so often. It was still fairly early in the evening, but the combination of that sensation and the warmth of being pressed up against his boyfriend, and the sound of his heartbeat just beneath his ear, had Kirishima’s eyelids feeling rather heavy.

Until Bakugou spoke up, that was. “Your roots are showing,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” Kirishima asked. “‘M not really surprised. ‘S been a couple months since I touched it up.”

“They’re fucking dark .”

“Mhm. My hair’s naturally black.”

“How the shit do you get it so bright, then?”

“Bleach.”

“No shit, but it’s still soft. Bleach fucking destroys hair.”

A chuckle rumbled through Kirishima’s chest and he shifted to look up at his boyfriend. “And how d’ you know, Mr. Beauty Guru?”

Typically, Bakugou clicked his tongue. “‘Cause I know shit. Just tell me how your hair isn’t shit.”

Kirishima rolled his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Guess I’m just blessed?”

“Hmph. You got the shit to dye it with?”

“Nah, I gotta get some from the store. I ran out last time I touched it up. Why? You wanna help me with it?” he joked.

Clearly, Bakugou didn’t take it as such. “Sure,” he mumbled.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Why the hell not?”

A wide smile took over Kirishima’s face. “Sounds good to me, Bakubabe.”

There was a beat of silence before it hit Kirishima right in the middle of the chest what he just said, and he was just getting ready to sit up and apologize when Bakugou’s hand tugged through his hair again and he snorted. “New nickname?”

“Dunno. It just came out,” Kirishima told him with a semi-forced laugh.

“...you’re weird, Dumb Hair.”

“Aw, I like you, too.”

⚜️

Bakugou was surprisingly good at the whole hair dye thing. He only seemed to glance at the directions on the bottle of bleach and developer before he was mixing it in the little bowl. Kirishima, impressed, merely sat on the lid of the toilet as he watched.

“So are you gonna tell me how you know what you’re doing, or…?”

“It’s hair dye, not fucking rocket science.”

“Yeah, but you look like you’ve done this a hundred times before,” Kirishima said. “C’mon, Baku. You don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me.”

“Who said I was embarrassed?!” Bakugou half-yelled.

“Well, you didn’t say it, but your body language did.”

“...shut up, Shitty Hair.”

With a sly grin, Kirishima leaned toward the sink. “You’ve dyed your hair before, huh? What color?”

With a deep crease set between his brows, Bakugou didn’t answer for a long minute as he finished mixing up the bleach. Kirishima was just starting to think he wasn’t going to answer and was ready to drop the subject when Bakugou set the bowl down, picked up the gloves and muttered, “Black.”

“Yeah?” Kirishima sat up straight again. “That sounds like you. Got pictures?”

“...no.”

“Aw c’mon, Bakubabe! Lemme see ‘em! I’ll show you some of me before I went red, if ya want,” he offered.

Bakugou’s eyes immediately cut to the side in Kirishima’s direction, narrowed suspiciously. In that one look alone Kirishima knew he was considering it, and he tried to make the begging in his eyes seem not-so forced.

“Fucking fine,” Bakugou grumbled, reaching for his phone with the hand that wasn’t yet gloved. He tapped on a few things and then handed the device over to Kirishima before telling him to turn around so he could start slapping the bleach onto his roots.

Elated, Kirishima was already occupied with the pictures to do just that. And damn did he have black hair! They were clearly old pictures—he only had one piercing in his lip and the one on the bridge of his nose was missing, too. His face looked quite a bit younger. The black, for what he seemed to be in those pictures, wearing even more eyeliner than he did currently as well as a worn leather choker, seemed to fit him. Of course, his trademark middle finger was still there and his tongue was out in a lot of them. Even then, though, with the black hair and slightly rounder face, he was cute. Kirishima couldn’t stop smiling.

“Don’t fucking make fun of me,” Bakugou told him when he noticed the other was already scrolling back through them once he reached the end.

“Don’t worry, man. Even I had an emo phase.”

Bakugou yanked a bit on the chunk of Kirishima’s hair he was holding. “Who said it was an emo phase?!”

“The pictures, man!” Kirishima laughed. “Seriously, though, you looked good. I mean, then. I don’t think the black hair would really suit you now, though.”

“So what, if I dyed it back would you break up with me?”

“What?! Hell no!”

Bakugou snorted at Kirishima’s suddenly shrill tone of voice.

Once Kirishima’s roots were covered in the bleach, Bakugou demanded he cough up the pictures he promised. With little reluctance, Kirishima did (though he was thankful there were only a few, and none of them were selfies, unlike all of Bakugou’s). Most of them were from when he was a kid, only a few from his middle school days when his hair was still the same style (minus the spikes) but remaining black. Back then he, too, wore quite a bit of black and wore this silly keychain on a chain around his neck much the same way he wore the tag Bakugou got for him now.

“Jesus fuck, you’ve always been cute,” Bakugou mumbled as he flipped through the photo album—one of Kirishima’s moms that she kept on the shelf in her closet.

“Aw, thanks, man.”

Bakugou stiffened like he hadn’t realized he said that out loud.

Once the roots were bleached and the dye was properly mixed, Kirishima once again let Bakugou take the reigns with his hair and then hopped in the shower to rinse it out when they were done while Bakugou waited for him down in the basement.

Bakugou

For some weird reason, Bakugou couldn’t even be bothered by the fact that the undersides of his nails were going to be red for weeks, though he was irritated that the fucking gloves ripped the second he put them on, causing him to have to put the stupid dye on Dumb Hair’s head without any hand protection. But it was for Kirishima, so of course he didn’t fucking mind.

The little fucker seemed to be taking a goddamn eon up in the shower, though, and there was only so much Bakugou’s phone could keep him entertained with while he was alone without resorting to YouTube—again.

Just as he was about to head there anyway, the basement door swung open and what looked like a blurry red figure out of the corner of his eye descended the stairs. He had no idea what the hell he was expecting upon looking up, but it sure as fuck wasn’t what he saw.

“...what the actual fuck are you wearing?” he blurted.

“Pajamas!” Kirishima said happily with that same big grin that never left his face. That one word alone was enough to make Bakugou’s heart squeeze with a gross feeling of affection for this idiot.

It was definitely pajamas he was wearing, but it wasn’t… normal pajamas. No, that adorable piece of shit was wearing a onesie , and not only that, he was wearing a fucking dragon onesie . A red one. With horns, a tail, wings,  and everything.

Already feeling disturbingly fucking flustered, Bakugou blurted the first thing that came to mind. “You look like a toddler.”

Just when he thought Kiri-fucking-shima couldn’t get any more adorable, he stuck his lower lip out in a pout just like a toddler . “Hey, pajamas are manly!” he defended.

“Whatever,” Bakugou said, rolling his eyes. “Just get over here and cuddle me, you little shit.”

Like the child he was, Kirishima bounded over to the couch and flopped down, opening his arms wide. “C’mere, Bakubabe.”

“You’re such a fucking dweeb,” Bakugou mumbled. Even still, he couldn’t help but let himself be enveloped by that dweeb, pulled downward until he was quite literally laying on his boyfriend. The onesie was unsurprisingly soft, and shit , Kirishima was warm.

“Hmm, you’re warm, Shitty Hair,” he mumbled, not even caring that the happiness he felt showed through his tone of voice.

“Oh, are you cold?” Kirishima asked. “Want me to turn off the AC?”

“Nope. Move and I’ll kill you.”

Hell no, Bakugou didn’t need the AC turned off. He was content just lying there and feeling Kirishima’s chest rumble beneath him with a laugh.

Chapter Text

Kirishima

Kirishima didn’t think he was ever gonna get used to waking up and finding the most beautiful person on Earth beside him, and he didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to go back to sleeping alone in his bed when they had to go back to school. For now, though, he refused to think about that. There was still almost half a week of break left and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to drag out every last second he had alone with Bakugou.

As a result of being truly alone, it was so much easier for things to start to get heated between them. In their room back at school, they were both aware in the backs of their minds that they were in a building occupied by countless other people. But here, where there was no chance of them being disturbed—or heard—by anyone else, it was easy to lose track of time and get lost in each other... going further than either of them had really intended from the get go.

That’s why it came as something of a shock when Kirishima realized one evening just how far they had gone from what had initially been an innocent kiss to... practically straddling Bakugou, one of his legs between the other’s with a warm hand halfway up the back of his shirt. In what seemed like no time at all, he could feel himself getting heated, could feel the pull of the desire as their lips moved together, hands scrambling a bit for even just a brief brushing of skin on skin. It pulled at him like never before, and... he didn’t know if he wanted it to. Didn’t know if he was ready for this. But at the same time he wanted it so much …

Before he could let himself get too carried away, he broke their kiss if only by a hair. “Should… should we stop?” he mumbled.

“Do you wanna stop?” Bakugou asked, hushed and a little breathless.

“...well, no,” Kirishima said, opening his eyes and lifting his head enough to see the other clearly. “But… are you sayin’ you wanna, y’know…” He paused to swallow around the lump in his throat. “...go all the way?”

That was met with an amused albeit sarcastic huff. “You’re like a fucking middle schooler,” Bakugou muttered.

“Sorry!” Kirishima practically squeaked, sitting up even more. “I’ve never done this before!”

Bakugou’s face was unreadable as he gazed up at the other, still hovering hesitantly above him. “...I dunno. D’you?”

The stupid lump seemed to get bigger with every word between them, forcing Kirishima to try and swallow it down and speak around it. “I dunno,” he repeated. “I mean, ‘m not really ready for that yet but like, I don’t wanna get all… well, y’know…” Shit, he really did talk like a middle schooler… “...and then just stop outta nowhere.”

“Then don’t.”

Bakugou said it so matter-of-factly that it took Kirishima off guard. He seemed so freakin’ chill about this! It didn’t look like he was bothered at all by the fact that he’d forced Kirishima’s shirt halfway up his torso or the fact that his knee was wedged between Kirishima’s legs… “But—”

“Go as far as you’re comfortable with and if you decide you wanna stop, we stop,” Bakugou cut in.

Oh man, oh man , Kirishima was pretty sure his face was gonna explode or his nose was gonna start bleeding or something with how hot it was getting. “Are… are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure, idiot.” For the first time since their kiss, Bakugou’s eyes cut away from the other’s. Only then did Kirishima see the redness in his ears. He was embarrassed, but somehow he was remaining so much cooler about this whole thing on the outside whereas Kirishima could hear the rushing of the blood in his head and was pretty damn sure Bakugou could feel the pounding of his heart through his back with where his hand rested against it.

“But if I do somethin’ you don’t like—”

“I’ll tell you. Same goes for you.”

Kirishima gave a small nod in response. He let Bakugou be the one to initiate the kiss this time, picking up right where they’d left off. He felt a surge of heat shoot down his body as soon as their lips made contact again and suddenly every embarrassed or fearful thought that’d been swarming around in his mind was silenced, and once again he found himself getting lost in the heat of the moment.

He… really fucking liked making out with Bakugou like this. The way the other’s hands gripped at his waist or his ribs, the way he seemed so hungry and desperate in the way he kissed and whimpered lightly from the back of his throat electrified every single nerve ending in Kirishima’s body. Before he knew it his hand had descended more than halfway down Bakugou’s torso and, though suddenly painfully aware of how low it was, didn’t stop it until he reached the soft cotton of Bakugou’s sweatpants and a… holy shit , rather large bulge right there in the front of them.

“Holy shit, you’re already—” he started to mumble against Bakugou’s lips.

“...yeah,” grumbled the other. “‘S not like I do this a lot…”

Once again Kirishima lifted his head. “So you have before?”

“No. Not really. Not with other people anyway.”

A bubble of amusement Kirishima couldn’t stop lifted from his stomach and presented itself in a giddy laugh. “Me either. But that was really fast.”

Instantly, Bakugou went on the defensive. “And? What about it?!” he hissed.

“Nothing!” defended Kirishima quickly. “I’m kinda impressed, honestly.”

“You don’t have to fucking embarrass me about it, Shitty Hair!”

“I—I’m not trying to!”

Bakugou had kept talking through Kirishima’s defense, though, going on like he hadn’t even heard him. “Is it such a fucking crime that I think you’re hot?!”

That took Kirishima way off guard; his eyes widened as his whole body stiffened. “Wait… you--you do?!”

Bakugou’s whole forehead seemed to be wrinkled now. “Was that not fucking obvious?!” he half-shouted.

“I-I don’t know!” Kirishima scrambled to say.  “Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

“Hmph…” Bakugou grunted, a hand immediately sliding up to tangle in the hair at the base of Kirishima’s skull. “Well they’re fucking stupid,” he grumbled before tugging the other’s head down and planting a harsh, heated kiss to his lips—one that left Kirishima slightly dizzy.

“How… how long’ve you thought that about me?” he managed to mumble in what was little more than a hushed voice.

“Since the first goddamn day I met you, dumbass. I just didn’t know it at the time. Now are you gonna keep going or just sit there using my dick as your hand rest?”

Despite the spinning in his head, Kirishima could only laugh into their next kiss until there was no more room to.

They didn’t go too much farther after that. There was... grinding, admittedly. Kirishima wouldn’t soon forget the way Bakugou had whimpered his name a few times—his given name—in the midst of things, even though no more than their shirts had actually come off. There was more kissing—a LOT more—and Kirishima suspected he would find a few prominent bruises peppered over his neck the next time he looked in the mirror, as would Bakugou. And even though they hadn’t gone ‘all the way,’ both of them knowing they weren’t quite there yet, they both were also sure it was one hell of an evening they were probably going to remember forever.

⚜️

As soon as he woke up, Kirishima immediately knew something was off. He was too cold, had too much room to maneuver around his bed without running into anything, and he could hear the faint sound of crickets coming from behind him even though in his only half-conscious state of mind he knew he hadn’t left the balcony door open.

With a sleepy mumble he sat up and turned around, squinting through the dark in the direction of the faint moonlight filtering in through the door. Sure enough it was open just slightly and a dark figure, one that could only be Bakugou, was sitting out on the floor of the balcony just off to the left. Blindly he reached down toward the end of the bed and grabbed the first shirt he found, pulled it over his head, and stood up to join the other outside.

Bakugou didn’t even glance up when he slid the screen door open and stepped out into the cool early morning air. He sat with his legs crossed and his back hunched, his hands fidgeting with something Kirishima couldn’t see and didn’t pay much mind to when he sat down beside him. As much as he would’ve liked to lean up against him and slide an arm around his waist, something told him he should keep his distance. That didn’t stop him from resting his knee against the other’s, though.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

Bakugou’s ‘yeah’ didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

“What’s wrong, man?”

“Nothing, Dumb Hair. I just wanted some fresh air,” he said quietly.

Already Kirishima’s heart was sinking. “Okay,” he murmured. “I don’t really believe you, but ‘m not gonna make you tell me. If you wanna, though, I’m here.”

“I know.”

It was silent a minute; while Bakugou continued to stare out toward the street, Kirishima couldn’t stop looking at him as his eyes finally adjusted to the low light. Not that Bakugou always looked super cheerful or anything, but it was easy to tell just by the slightly scrunched up look on his face that there was definitely something on his mind. It took every ounce of willpower Kirishima had not to basically beg him to talk to him. The last thing he wanted to be was invasive.

So instead, gently, he slid his hand over toward Bakugou’s and, when his touch wasn’t rejected, threaded his fingers between the other’s. Bakugou let him lean against his shoulder, too, without saying a word or shrugging him off. In his sleepy state, the warmth of Bakugou being so close and the fresh smell of the night air had him beginning to doze off within just a few minutes—until Bakugou finally spoke up, that was.

“...so does your mom know?”

Kirishima’s eyes fluttered open. “Hm? Know what?”

“About…” There was a deep breath, and in it Kirishima could just hear the hesitation. “...all the gay shit.”

“Huh?” Kirishima sat up. “You mean about me liking guys?”

“Yeah. That. Whatever.”

“Hmm… I dunno. I never actually told her but I don’t try to hide it, either. She’s the kind of parent that doesn’t really mind that kind of stuff, though. She just wants me to be happy,” he explained, remembering back during the holiday break when she’d teased him about smiling at his phone.

But his sleepy mind hadn’t made the connection to what he was staring at until Bakugou said, “Hmph. Lucky bastard.”

It seemed to wake him up in an instant. “Why? Do your parents not know?”

“Considering I didn’t even fucking know until I met your cute ass, no.”

As much as Kirishima wanted to smile at the ‘cute’ part, he couldn’t. “Are… you gonna tell ‘em?” he hushed.

Bakugou’s shoulders were stuff when he said, “And risk getting kicked out before I can even support myself? Fuck no.”

A physical pang struck Kirishima in the chest. He tightened his hand around Bakugou’s and moved just a little closer. “...so they’re not supportive,” he said. He hadn’t really formed it as a question—more like an inference—and Bakugou’s following silence seemed to speak volumes.