Work Text:
Nothing is more intensely boring to Bakugou than a school dance. Yuuei thought it was a clever idea after their cultural festival to hold a dance afterwards for some well-deserved relaxation. The rest of the students were decked out in their finest and yelling over the DJ. Bakugou Katsuki wanted to leave. He’d had two cups of punch and swatted off Kaminari’s and Mina’s attempts to get him to dance several times. The band performance this morning had been awesome, but now he was feeling run down and on edge. As he’d gotten dressed after the festival, Kirishima had tried to get his spirits up.
“Come on, Blasty! It’ll be fun as hell! Everyone’s going!”. That was the problem, everyone was going. Bakugou was easily exhausted by tons of social interaction. He wasn’t very good at it either. The method of operation was to hang around the edges, waiting for Kirishima to involve him because to Katsuki, Kirishima was the ultimate social butterfly. Bakugou always felt a little better hanging out with the rest of the class when that sunspot of a boy was involved.
“Sounds like a fuckin’ waste of time,” Katsuki had protested, but he still planned on going. Especially after he saw Kirishima done up in his suit. The guy was usually a fashion disaster, with his Crocs, Hawaiian shirts, and headbands that say, “Just Do It!”. This outfit blew everything else out of the water (except Eijirou’s hero outfit, but Bakugou would never admit it). Kirishima had bought a red suit that matched his hair perfectly. Somehow it didn’t clash with the cerulean shirt he’d paired it with, and his stupid spiked hair looked so good. The minute Bakugou got an eyeful of his friend dressed to the nines, he figured the dance was worth a little bit of the trouble.
But here he was now, sulking on the sidelines, watching Kirishima fade in and out of the crowd currently bouncing to some crappy pop song. It wasn’t just how Eijirou looked. No, it never was. It was the way he drew people to him, like right now, how both Sero and Denki had their arms around his shoulders and they were yelling to the song and somehow the disco lights always centered on Eijrou. He was the sun, and Bakugou was just another planet, caught in orbit, thriving off his light. After the Kamino rescue, Bakugou had to face the idea Kirishima was more than a slightly irritating friend to him.
Holding his hand had felt like a revelation. Even though he’d said, “You idiot!”, the squeeze he gave Eijirou’s hand was the reassurance that Bakugou was relieved to see the redhead there. Kirishima’s smile as the group flew through the air was only for Katsuki, or so he dreamed. Since that moment, Bakugou knew that he could, contrary to popular belief, want someone.
He didn’t want to look like some pathetic lead in a romantic drama, staring out windows at rainstorms and pining from across rooms, but he also hadn’t wanted Deku to surpass him as a hero, but that happened. “This is some real bullshit.”, he growled out to no one in particular. The song had changed, and Bakugou let his eyes sweep the room again. He wasn’t desperate, no. Bakugou Katsuki was going to deal with these emotions the only way he knew how – by ignoring them! In one of the quieter corners, Izuku and Todoroki looked like they were five seconds away from making out, even though they weren’t touching. Any time they talked it looked like some intimate moment that was closed to the public. Like anyone cared. Would Kirishima ever want that? He’d lean on Bakugou’s shoulders, pat his arm, brush close to him when he sat, so maybe…
No. Not in a million years would Bakugou ever have the honor of standing in a dimly lit corner of a dance hall with Kirishima, intertwining fingers and sweet talking each other. No, Eijirou was a celestial body incapable of stillness and deserving of a brilliance that matched his own. Bakugou was just a (mostly) controlled explosion, masquerading as sunlight.
He finished the third cup of punch he’d taken, crumpled it in his fist, tossed it, and took a walk out of the room, leaving behind the pounding music and thereby Kirishima, who has stopped his headbanging for a minute to scan the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just like that, he was gone. Kirishima had been having a great day. The cultural festival and Class A’s dance and band performance impressed all the other classes. Jirou’s band gave a thrumming performance and Kirishima had gotten to watch Bakugou play the drums like it was his job. His bro had done so well. The problem was that Kirishima was feeling something beyond friendship and bro-levels of closeness with Katsuki. The hopeless crush he’d formed at the Sports Festival had morphed into an unchecked hulk of emotion that Eijirou desperately needed to fight back before it destroyed the city.
Bakugou had worn the most gorgeous suit Kirishima had ever seen to the dance, even though it wasn’t much different from his own. The suit jacket was oxblood, perfectly complimenting his light complexion. Katsuki’s undershirt was a velvet blue that reminded Kirishima of the sky right before the stars came out. Bakugou had loosened his tie after Kirishima tied it. Katsuki’s fear of suffocation effected things like that, but he’d begrudgingly agreed when Kirishima had asked him about 17 times to wear his tie.
Whenever Bakugou did something Kirishima asked, or accepted his help, it felt like victory. When they had paired up during the first villain attack at USJ, Bakugou let Kirishima fight by his side, and they’d been so brave. Katsuki got to achieve a win because Kirishima had been a “horse who wouldn’t waver”, which in retrospect had seemed like a bit of weird phrasing but had gotten the job done. Kamino had been a miracle altogether. When Kirishima had screamed “Come!” from thousands of feet in the air, he was terrified that Bakugou would resist. Then the guy had propelled himself through the air and moved like a trapeze artist, limbs somehow treading the air with beauty and grace despite the velocity.
The minute their hands clasped, Kirishima couldn’t believe how he’d ever ignored how in love he was with the guy. The knife blade grin that split Katsuki’s lips could’ve put Kirishima up over the moon.
But now, Kirishima was trying to enjoy the dance as much as possible, but he’d like it way more if Bakugou would come out and dance. Fat chance of that happening though, and Kirishima was more than sure that Bakugou was not the type to dance to pop music with a bunch of people he insisted weren’t his friends. So Kirishima was dancing with everyone, letting the pounding music drown out the way his mind kept drifting to Katsuki’s oxblood clad form.
Kirishima had still noticed how his friend had stuck to the walls, refusing to be drug in by any of their friends. Mina, who could usually hype anyone up, got straight up ignored and Bakugou. Then she’d come back, saying how he was a stick in the mud and that Kirishima should just have a good time.
Three-fifths of the so-named Bakusquad were totally aware of Kirishima’s out-of-his-mind crush on Bakugou. Kaminari’s remark had been “So you do really want to die?”. Kirishima had rolled his eyes at that and thrown a pillow in the guy’s face. Sero had put on the traditional thoughtful look he had when considering a rare possibility. “Bakugou is way nicer to Eijirou than anyone else. He’s the only person who can talk Blasty McSplode into almost anything.” Kirishima had hugged his friend and given a dramatic “Thank you man!” thrown in the direction of Denki because he was still shaking his head at the whole thing. Mina had given the perfect advice, because it had been so simple.
She’d just held his hands and said, “Be patient, he’ll come.” A lot of people assumed Mina was a hapless airhead who tried to avoid serious topics and lighten the mood with dance music and dumb jokes, but she was infinitely wise in the ways of the heart. Plus, she’d known Kirishima since high school and could see into the parts of him he tried so hard to hide. His insecurity was buried under 50 layers of manly confidence and brazen smiles that he used to put distance between his current self and high school identity.
Kirishima thought being patient might’ve worked tonight, especially with how Bakugou had been staring from the far wall near the door of the dance hall. Something in his eyes said that he wanted to be out there, but he needed a damn good reason. Eijirou thought that he could get a chance to pull Bakugou out to dance. Then Mina and Hagakure had pulled him into their group and another good song came on and he realized he wasn’t going to get that chance. By the time he got back to the edge of the crowd, Bakugou had left. Everywhere Kirishima looked, he saw no sign of Bakugou. He’d probably just gotten sick of the crowd and left. Katsuki was an early sleeper. But he needed to know. Eijirou gave a mournful look to Mina, who was laughing at something Denki had said and looked like she might fall down in that lovely seafoam dress. She just nodded and mouthed “Go get him.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bakugou had been enjoying the quiet of the hallway before he heard his name being yelled by one raspy voice. “Bakugou!”. In his bright red suit and jogging with purpose, Kirishima still looked like relief. One of his hands was waving in the air, like Bakugou couldn’t see his annoyingly bright head of hair. “The fuck do you want, Shitty Hair?” he spat out. Oh stop, you know that hair is your favorite, his conscience nagged. It sounded like his hag of a mother. “You left, I got kind of bummed.” Kirishima sighed, finally reaching Bakugou’s side and bumping shoulders with him. Eijirou did look genuinely upset. Bakugou couldn’t have that shit. “Why? You’re in there with the rest of them, looked fine to me.” He can’t even muster the slightest bite in his tone. Kirishima is wearing the cologne Bakugou never gets to smell unless they hang out aside from sparring. It’s like the forest, fresh and oaky. Eijirou is looking up, almost purposefully away from Bakugou. His neck is exposed and Bakugou wants to bury his nose in the slight bend of that muscle, just to drink in the smell and be a little bit closer to Kirishima.
That’s inappropriate though and Bakugou will not go for it. That’s such a bad idea, it seems like something Deku would think of. Then Kirishima speaks, meeting Katsuki’s eyes. “Would’ve been better if you were there. Come back in. I’ll hang with you.” He says it so softly and Bakugou wants, he desires. Yearns even. He kicks the heel of a well-polished dress shoe on the floor and groans, throwing his head back. “Fuckin’ fine, if it gets you off my case.”. Kirishima’s smile looks like a poor imitation of the one from Kamino, but it’ll do.
So they’re back in the dance hall and Eijirou feels like he’s going to puke because he and Bakugou are standing, shoulders touching, against a dimly lit wall, watching their friends swirl with energy to the Top 40. “This music is shit.” Bakugou notes, an opinion he’s shared plenty of times. Kirishima does think Katy Perry kind of bites as an artist, so he just laughs a bit in response. He wishes a slow song would come on.
Then it does.
It’s an old song, one from his grandparents, or great-grandparents generation. The male singer’s voice croons with a longing that Kirishima wishes he could convey to Bakugou in a room less crowded and glittering.
"Why do I do just as you say?
Why must I just give you your way?
Why do I sigh?
Why don't I try to forget?"
Kirishima straightens up to do the unspeakable and ask Bakugou to dance, but he gets beaten to the punch. “Let’s go, Ei.”, Katsuki says, his face unreadable and hand extended. They walk into the sea of swaying couples and make space for themselves. Kirishima is sweating under his dress shirt and when Bakugou’s hand settles on the small of his back, he hopes that his friend can’t feel the moisture or nerves. EIjirou doesn’t know where to put his hands, how to move, if he’s going to shoot off into space and get lost up there because Bakugou’s hands feel like silk despite having the power to provide free demolition services.
“Have you never danced, Hair for Brains?” Katsuki mumbles, leaning into Kirishima’s space, the words breezing past his right ear. He just shakes his head no, so Bakugou shows him the way. “Well just put a hand on my shoulder and hold my other one, dumbass.” Kirishima listens and follows the instruction. The pair just sways to the music, which sounds strangely familiar to the redhead. It stirs hope in his chest.
"It had to be you
It had to be you.
I wandered around
And finally found
The somebody who
Could make me be true"
God it’s sappy. Eijirou remembers how it felt when Izuku had said it had to be him that extended his hand to Katsuki, during the rescue. He often wondered if Bakugou would have refused anyone else or would have just taken an escape no matter who it was. He knew he was zoning out and didn’t notice how he’d started nuzzling up to Bakugou, so much that they were cheek to cheek. He could feel how warm the blond was, and the hand at the small of Eijirou’s back was pulling them a bit closer. They moved slow and easy like this, Kirishima smelling the sweetness nitroglycerin gave off from Katsuki and wondering if he should pull back and read his friend’s face. Then again, friends didn’t dance together like this, did they?
“I want to tell you something Bakugou. I’ve got to.” Eijirou whispered, and he felt Bakugou just nod in recognition. “No.” was his answer. Eijirou felt himself sag a bit, his feet dragging in their slow dance. He got to perk up again when Bakugou’s thumb rubbed along Kirishima’s knuckles. “Not yet…this song is nice.” Katsuki says, sounding really, truly happy.
"For nobody else
Gave me a thrill
With all your faults
I love you still
It had to be you
Wonderful you.
It had to be you"
The song finishes and Eijirou thinks this has all been some wild hallucination made up by his lovesick brain, but Bakugou Katsuki surprises him. “Come.”, Bakugou asks him. Eijirou does. He always would.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There are three things Bakugou is terrified of admitting, all of them emotions. Fear, failure, and love. Now he’s going to probably feel all three, what a trip! Outside of the gymnasium, past the few couples who are hastily making out near the old hero statues, Bakugou and Kirishima take a stroll through the summer wet grass in the moonlight. It’s a sickly romantic scene, but they also just danced to Frank Sinatra at their first high school dance like they were together, so this is nothing compared to that.
“So, say it.” Bakugou grits out, hands in his pockets, trying to suppress the explosions that are probably seconds away from going off. Kirishima sighs and turns to him. That stupid, gelled up hair almost shimmers under the moonlight. It’s not that stupid. “You really want me to?” Eijirou asks, looking so unsure. That’s the worst emotion on him, because it diminishes his light, dims him. “Yeah. You didn’t like dancing with me and you don’t want that. It’s fuckin’ whatever.” Bakugou lets out. He is so close to crying, but he’ll run away and set off a bunch of explosions before Kirishima ever gets to see him be a weak asshole.
“That’s not true at all Bakugou. I loved dancing with you. I love…you.”
Kirishima is looking at him head on, the level of intensity in his eyes unmatched. Eijirou only looks like this when he wants to prove something. It’s the same look he had during the cavalry race at the Sports Festival. “What the fuck?” Katsuki gasps, and he knows he’s crying. His bottom lip wants to quiver, but he bites it instead. “Please, just believe me. I really do. I waited months to tell you this. Even if you don’t feel the same way man, I can take it. You just say the word and I’ll hang back, leave you be.” Eijirou promises. He hasn’t even made a move to Bakugou yet. Katsuki thinks that if Kirishima really means it, and if his manliness lines up with being so emotionally transparent, then he can confess too, in so many words.
“I love you. It’s always been you.”
He lifts his eyes to look at his amazing, bright, gentle friend and goes to wipe the tears away, but Kirishima’s thumbs come up to brush them off, his left hand cupping his jaw. Kirishima holds Bakugou’s face like he’s delicate, and he wants to protest that he’s not fucking delicate, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for Kirishima’s waist, which is so steady and strong that it’s not much different than when his quirk is activated, but he’s vulnerable right now and it feels good that Eijirou is making this happen.
“Did it have to be me, the hand?” he inquires, voice still gentle. Eijirou has this natural rasp that sort of weakens Bakugou always. For a minute, Katsuki looks at him confused. Why is he asking about Kamino? It’s the last thing he wants to think about…but Bakugou thinks he knows why.
“Yeah, you fucking know that, Eijirou.” When he says that, Bakugou sees the sigh that leaves Kirishima. Then he feels the kiss.
The sun, for all its’ volatile heat and UV rays, can be gentle and warming. It can soothe aching muscles and bring a smile to any face. Kirishima is just like that, gentle and warm and assuring, as he holds Katsuki in a kiss that doesn’t waver. Bakugou presses back a little harder, hoping he’s showing Eijirou that he feels something like a freight train of emotion. There’s the nip of Kirishima’s shark teeth at his bottom lip before he pulls away.
Bakugou knows he’s smiling like a goofy idiot, but it’s Kirishima, who is so deserving. “You’re the sun. You deserve someone who shines like you.” Bakugou relents. Kirishima doesn’t given him anymore time to protest. “No, stop that. You burn brighter than the sun, the stars. You know how it had to be me that held out my hand to you? Yeah, well it had to be you that pushed me to be stronger, harder. It had to. You’ve always been the supernova to me. You keep expanding and exploding and getting stronger and it makes me want to do the same. I want that, but I need to know you want me.” When Kirishima finishes speaking, he holds Bakugou steady by his shoulders.
“Hell yeah.” Bakugou replies, leaning forward to kiss Eijirou again.
It was always him, wasn’t it?