Work Text:
The crowd’s getting a little thinner. No one wants to hang around now that the big fight’s over. Everyone's turning and gossiping to each other about All Might, about whoever that asshole was that he was fighting. Figures. Bakugou shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away from the screens. He can't keep watching that shit.
He… he can't look at All Might right now, but those stupid fucking reporters won't stop with their close ups on his shriveled, skeletal form. It's disgusting, he gave them everything and they can't bother showing the slightest hint of respect. He gave up everything.
Bakugou balls his hands into fists, nails scratching at his palms. If the skin there wasn't so damn thick from years of training his quirk, he'd probably be bleeding. The others are saying something about getting him back home, but he can't really hear it. There's too much noise in his ears, and this damn pounding in his head. God he's so tired.
He only blinks back to the moment when Kirishima reaches for his hand again. Bakugou jerks back without thinking. The fuck is he doing? Trying to drag him around like some little kid? Fuck that. Just because they pulled him out of there doesn’t mean he’s a goddamn invalid. He can walk himself the fuck home just fine.
But it… it’s kinda weird now that he thinks about it. And so is the way Kirishima keeps looking at him. If it was Deku--who’s busy talking to four eyes on Kirishima’s other side--or the stupid class rep himself, he’d just snap at them for trying to coddle him. But Kirishima’s never done that. Ever. But his hand is still there, awkwardly hovering between them like he wants to reach for Bakugou again.
So he scoffs. “The fuck do you keep grabbing at me for, shitty hair?”
“Huh?” Kirishima blinks at him. He looks… different like this. Softer. What the fuck did he do to his hair? It’s weird.
“I don’t need you pulling me along, I know where the fuck to go.” Bakugou lifts his chin, challenging.
“Oh, no it’s not that.” Kirishima holds up his hands quickly, face sheepish. He rubs at the back of his neck and glances around them. “This crowd’s still pretty busy, people are kinda freaked, y’know? I didn’t wanna lose track of you. I mean… we just got you back, man.”
And there’s something about Kirishima’s voice. Like he’s in pain maybe? No, not that. Bakugou can’t really put a name to it. Relief and… and something else. He sounds earnest for sure. But then he always does. The guy doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, he’s more cunning than he lets on, sure, Bakugou figured out that much from the start, but he’s not trying to pull anything right now. Or he’s probably not, but it still makes Bakugou feel strange.
It takes him a second to decide it’s good strange. Because that means Kirishima missed him. Which is kind of stupid, he wasn’t even gone more than a few days. Who the hell misses anyone that fast? Okay, maybe the kidnapped by villains thing is part of it. It’s… it’s not like they knew he was just fucking fine. So yeah, maybe if that was Kirishima who got taken, Bakugou would be kinda worried too.
Huffing, Bakugou wipes his hand on his shirt. He sweats too much. The price of actually fucking training his goddamn quirk apparently. Whatever, it’s not like this is gonna be a regular thing.
He grabs Kirishima’s hand a little roughly and keeps his eyes focused straight ahead. “There, happy now, dumbass?”
Bakugou can still see Kirishima out of the corner of his eye. He looks surprised first, blinking down at their hands, then a toothy grin slowly spreads across his face as he nods. And he doesn’t say anything about it. Fucking good. It’s stupid and Bakugou’s ears are burning, but who gives a shit if he holds Kirishima’s hand for a couple minutes?
It’s fine. He’s fine.
And Kirishima’s hand is sort of warm against his rough, thick skin. For a second, he almost wishes he could feel it better. It’s weird. Bakugou’s never been touchy with people. He’s never really had friends he wanted to be touchy with. The dumbasses he hung out with in middle school would usually stay a few steps behind, like they were afraid of getting too close to his hands. Which was probably smart, he could’ve blown those losers to shit if they tried something.
Before them… the only time he can remember holding someone’s hand like this was Deku. It was back before they got their quirks. They had been playing some dumb game and got lost. The woods had been so much bigger back then, Bakugou hadn’t known them like the back of his hand. And Deku started sniffling, his lower lip trembling. Pathetic. So Bakugou had rolled his eyes and offered his hand. He would get them out of there, of course he could find the way.
But even that had been different. Deku had trailed behind him, sniffing and whining until they got out of the woods.
Kirishima walks at his side. He doesn’t try to pull Bakugou along or trail behind him, he keeps pace. The only vaguely annoying thing is how he swings their hands a little and how he looks so calm and content as he chatters at the class rep.
“Kacchan--”
Great. Bakugou’s shoulders instantly tense at Deku’s voice on his other side, eyes narrowing. Deku has a hand halfway to his shoulder, but he lets it drop as soon as Bakugou looks at him. Smart move. Even if right now Bakugou’s a little too exhausted to blast him and one hand is still sort of occupied. Fuck, this is why he shouldn’t hold anyone’s hand, he’s down a weapon right now.
“What d’you want, Deku?”
“Oh, I just wanted to see if you’re alright. They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
Bakugou grits his teeth. This damn nerd fussing at him like he’s weak enough to let those idiots land a blow. “What does it look like? I’m fucking fine.”
“Good, I’m glad.” And Deku smiles at him like he means it. A vicious comeback rises on Bakugou’s tongue, but he bites it down. Deku’s eyes are still watery, like he just got done crying about something. Which… he definitely did.
Bakugou can yell at him tomorrow.
“Tch, like I’d lose a fight to any of those assholes. I could’ve gotten out of there just fine on my own, y’know? I didn’t need you dumbasses to come get me.” If he had been there longer and the pros had been more distracting, he… he probably could have. Bakugou grimaces, because that uncertainty makes this dark pit form in his gut and he hates it.
He huffs a little. “How’d you even convince four eyes and icy hot to tag along on this?”
Because he doesn’t get that. Todoroki doesn’t like him. He’s pretty sure their class rep would have an easier time if he spent a month stuck in some villain’s lair. Bakugou can’t even remember talking to that damn rich girl. Kirishima he gets, but the rest don’t make sense.
“Oh, well, it was actually Kirishima and Todoroki’s idea to come get you,” Deku admits without hesitation, though he looks a little sheepish, eyes downcast. “I wanted to, of course, but they’re the ones that convinced me and Yaoyorozu to come along. Iida heard what we were planning and came to make sure we wouldn’t do anything reckless.”
Bakugou snorts. “Yeah, great job on that.”
The rest though makes him frown. This plan has Deku written all over it. Rushing in to save the day when there’s a huge risk of getting hurt and breaking a ton of rules to butt in when they should leave it to the pros, that’s all Deku. But it wasn’t.
His eyes drift over to Kirishima. He’s still talking to Iida, babbling away about the fight. They’re still holding hands even though Bakugou can feel himself sweating again, Kirishima hasn’t said a thing about it. He hasn’t tried to pull him closer or talk about what happened or rub it in his face that their dumbass plan worked.
Because he never does. He never pushes for more than Bakugou can give. And he came to save him. Because he missed him. Because he was worried. And there’s something twisting and hot in Bakugou’s chest that he doesn’t want to think about.
“Well,” Deku says, pulling Bakugou’s attention back to his nervous grin. “I’m glad you’re alright, Kacchan.”
“Whatever.” Bakugou rolls his eyes and starts walking a little faster. He notices--and that feeling in his chest gets hotter--that Kirishima doesn’t hesitate to keep up with him.
They find the cops pretty fast once they get clear of the crowd. A couple of the officers stop reporters from swarming in. They pull Bakugou away from the others and Kirishima gives him a little grin and squeezes his hand before letting go. Bakugou tries to ignore the way his fingers feel cold and empty without it. The cops ask their questions and Bakugou answers as fast as he can and takes a phone from one of them to call his mom.
“Yeah?” She sounds aggravated and tired on the other end and Bakugou fights down a wince. Not like it’s his fault he got grabbed, but she’s probably gonna start screaming in a second.
“It’s me.”
“Katsuki?” And there’s this waver in her voice that he hates. His hand balls into a fist at his side. She’s not supposed to sound like that. “It’s about damn time! What the hell happened? Where are you?”
He lets out a breath. That’s more like it. “I’m fine, hag, thanks for asking. I’m still near Kamino. The cops wanted to ask some questions, but I’m heading home now. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Brat. Fine, but get one of those cops or one of your friends to walk you home. I swear to god if you go missing again, I’ll hunt you down myself.”
Bakugou huffs and rolls his eyes. But honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her to do just that. “Fucking fine.”
“You watch your damn mouth.” There’s a slight pause and the sound of his parents talking on the other side, then his mom sighs. “Just get your ass home. Your father says he loves you and he’s glad you’re safe.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell him to stop blubbering.” Bakugou grimaces, glancing around briefly. No one’s listening to him, the cops are busy questioning Deku, Kirishima and Iida. “And yeah, me too.”
He hangs up pretty quick after that and shoves the phone back at the cop who offered it. Hands shoved in his pockets, he glances around at the others. There’s no way in hell he’s asking Deku to walk him home, even if he’ll be going the same way. Class rep would probably volunteer and lecture him the whole way home about how to not get kidnapped until Bakugou blasted him. And asking a cop would make him feel like some damn kid.
Really, there’s only one option.
Bakugou approaches Kirishima as soon as it looks like the cop talking to him is done. He lightly kicks the back of Kirishima’s leg. “Hey. Walk me home.”
Kirishima turns, blinking at him in surprise, but it’s only a second before he grins again. “Sure thing, man.”
“One moment!” Iida’s voice cuts in and grates on Bakugou’s nerves as he looks over his shoulder to see him approaching. “Bakugou, I would like a word with you before you go.”
“Yeah? Then spit it out, four eyes.” He doesn’t want to deal with this. His mom’s going to spend hours screaming when he gets home and his dad’ll probably cry. It’s been a long fucking day and it’s not over yet.
“In private, please.” Iida stands straighter than any normal person should, his shoulders all squared, jaw clenched. Not the posture of a guy who’s taking no for an answer.
Bakugou’s too fucking tired to beat his hands against a brick wall. “Fine, but make it fast.”
He lets Iida lead him a few feet away from the others and then stands, waiting, one eyebrow rising. Iida’s statue still for a moment before he suddenly bends almost in half in a low bow. “I owe you an apology, Bakugou.”
What? Bakugou blinks at him, eyes widening. He can barely remember having a conversation with this guy that lasted more than a minute. What the hell does he have to apologize for? “Why?”
Iida straightens up slowly, his gaze stays on the ground, shameful. “I tried to convince the others not to come. I thought Midoriya and Todoroki were making the same mistake they did with Stain, I was sure they would rush in and get hurt and get in trouble again. They’ve already been warned once, I knew this would be worse if I just let them go. But I… I wasn’t thinking about you. I was content to sit and leave it to the pros. I thought they could handle it. I had no idea how powerful the villains were… that they would use you against All Might that way…”
It seems like he wants to say more, to spit out more meaningless platitudes he thinks he has to make for some reason. Bakugou can’t tell if he actually means any of it, or if it’s just some damn respect thing. But he knows for a fact he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want Iida’s weird regrets and guilt. He should save that shit for Deku.
So Bakugou scoffs. “Then don’t apologize for it.”
Iida looks at him sharp and surprised, so Bakugou goes on. “Don’t apologize for shit you didn’t know was gonna happen. I don’t care whether you wanted to save me or not. You were probably right trying to keep those dumbasses from barging in. They just would’ve fucked it up if they tried to pick a fight back there. You don’t owe me anything, four eyes.”
“It’s my duty as class rep to do whatever I can to help my classmates,” Iida says, shaking his head. “That includes you and I… I haven’t made enough of an effort to help you. From now on, I’ll do better, I promise--”
“I don’t fucking need your help,” Bakugou snaps. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he has the energy for one fight. He stares Iida down, waiting for a response, but it seems like he’s run out of steam. So Bakugou jerks his chin up and clicks his tongue. “Worry about Deku and that bastard Todoroki if you want, but leave me out of it.”
He turns on his heel before Iida can get another word out and stalks back over to Kirishima, grabbing him by the elbow to pull him away. “We’re going.”
Kirishima doesn’t protest, just waves over his shoulder to Deku and Iida, yelling something about seeing them at school. No one else tries to stop them. This part of the city is vaguely familiar, enough that he knows how to get to a train station. It’s not as busy as he would’ve guessed and he snags them seats. It’s going to be a long ride and he can feel the exhaustion creeping into his bones making every part of him ache.
At least no one looks at them twice. He’s used to being recognized now and he hates it every time. If it’s not the sludge villain thing, it’s people snickering behind their hands at the kid who lost it at the sports festival. Bakugou keeps his eyes narrowed as he presses his back to the window, shifting so he can pull one leg up on the seat as he levels glares at anyone who happens to get remotely close.
They’ve gone a few stops before he looks at Kirishima. He’s sprawled in the next seat, slumped back, one hand picking at the shitty excuse for a cushion, too sharp teeth worrying at his lip. Probably gonna make it bleed if he keeps going at it like that. Bakugou’s eyes linger on his hair, struck again by how different it looks. It frames his face. If Bakugou touched it, he bets it would be all soft and silky. He kind of wants to.
So he does. He reaches out and grabs a few strands, lightly tugging. Definitely soft. Kirishima blinks at him, eyes widening. “What’s up, man?”
“The hell did you do to your hair?”
“Huh? Oh, I just took the gel out of it. It was part of my disguise for the rescue. I had these fake horns too, like Ashido’s, but they fell off when we grabbed you, I think.”
Bakugou frowns a little. He hasn’t let go of Kirishima’s hair yet, thumb moving over the lock he’s got a grip on. “You always put gel in it?”
“Well yeah. Not everyone has cool hair all the time like you, Bakugou. I’ve gotta look my best if I’m gonna be a decent pro,” Kirishima says, grinning.
“Isn’t that a pain?” How he looks isn’t something Bakugou worries about, well… not usually. He likes his hair and still kind of wants to kick Jeanist’s ass for trying to ‘fix’ it. Spending so much time worrying about that seems pointless. Who cares what he looks like if he gets the job done?
Kirishima shrugs. “It’s not that bad. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, only takes like five… maybe ten minutes.”
“Dumbass, that’s ten minutes you could spend studying or sleeping. Why bother?”
“I like the way it looks better when it’s up.” Kirishima shrugs again. “Makes me look more heroic.”
“Says who?”
“Uh, says me. Dude, why are you so hung up on my hair?”
“Because it’s stupid to spend so much time something that doesn’t matter. It looks fine like this. You don’t need weird hair to be a pro, you’re good enough without some dumb gimmick or look to make you stand out.”
“Oh.” Kirishima’s face is kind of pink now, his eyes wide. He laughs and cuts a glance to the side a little awkwardly. “I don’t know about all that, but… thanks, man.”
Bakugou burns, his chest, his face, his fingers where he still hasn’t stopped touching Kirishima’s hair. He jerks his hand back and shifts so he can glare out the window. “Don’t thank me for saying shit that’s already obvious.”
Because Kirishima is good . Maybe he has trouble with written tests, and sometimes he can be a bit acts before he thinks, but hell that shit’s true about at least half their class. Kirishima can hold his own in a fight and he never backs down. But more than that… he actually gives a shit about saving things. Saving people. Bakugou’s never cared about that part much, but he knows it’s what heroes are supposed to do. That’s where Kirishima’s going to shine, he can tell. The rest of the fucking world just needs to get on his level and see that.
“Yeah, but,” Kirishima says after a long moment, “it’s still cool hearing you say stuff like that. It means a lot, y’know?”
Bakugou grits his teeth and keeps staring out the window. His chest goes tight again and his fingers itch. Explosions on a moving train are a bad idea, so he digs his nails into his palms. He shouldn’t have to tell Kirishima this shit. He should already know. It’s fucking weird.
It seems like he should say something, but he’s already exceeded the usual amount of words he can spare for anything resembling casual conversation, so he just makes a vague noise in response. That should be enough. Kirishima always somehow knows what he means no matter how much he says. He doesn’t try to start another conversation, so Bakugou figures they’re good.
If only not talking didn’t leave so much room for shitty, stupid thoughts to drift around his head. Because he keeps going back to Kamino Ward. He keeps thinking about the fight and… and before that. And he hates it. The villains didn’t even do anything really. They didn’t hurt him--they didn’t even try. All they did was chain him down and talk at him. That shouldn’t make him all cold and clammy, it shouldn’t make him want to tense up and start screaming.
But it does.
Bakugou wishes that was the worst part. He grips tightly at his knee and tries to fight away the image that keeps forcing itself back into his head. All Might bleeding and deflated, the symbol of peace reduced to a frail bag of bones. Forever. And all for him.
Damn it. If he hadn’t gotten himself caught, if he hadn’t been so stupid--he didn’t even see that Compress asshole coming. He should have fought harder, shouldn’t have listened to Todoroki telling him to hold back. Hell, if he had stuck closer to fucking Deku and let the others protect him back at camp All Might could still be alright. Could still be a hero. But it’s all fucked because of him.
“Hey.” Kirishima’s voice and a light touch to his shoulder pull him out of his thoughts sharply, almost making him jump. “Our stop’s coming up next.”
“I fucking know that.” Bakugou stands quickly, ignoring the way his ears burn as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets and moves toward the doors. He hadn’t even been paying attention to the stops, but now that he actually looks, he knows the quickly passing surroundings.
He shuffles off the train, not pausing to see if Kirishima’s follow, because he knows he will. It’s not until he pushes through the crowd at the station that Kirishima falls in at his side again. His apartment is a bit of a walk from the station, but it’s late and it’s pretty much all residential places so there’s hardly anyone out on the streets. Silence falls and Bakugou hates it.
“Hey,” he says, not really knowing where he’s going with it after that, but he needs to say fucking something. “Deku said it was your idea to come after me.”
“Huh? I guess it was, yeah. Midoriya’s the one that came up with the exit strategy though. I didn’t really have much of a plan. They kinda had to stop me just trying to charge off a couple times.” Sheepish again, Kirishima rubs at the back of his neck.
“But you’re the one that asked Deku to come along, right?”
“Well yeah. I knew he felt bad about it and--we couldn’t just leave you there, man. Me and Todoroki were gonna go no matter what.” There’s this firm set to Kirishima’s jaw as he looks Bakugou dead on.
That hot twisting feeling is back and Bakugou only looks away to glare at the sidewalk. Stupid fucking villains took his shoes. At least the pavement is cool underfoot. Not that it makes the rest of him feel any colder, his ears feel like they’re on fire. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Don’t be dumb, you know what I mean.” Why did they come for him when they knew they’d get in trouble if not worse? Why did they come when they knew they were gonna be outnumbered and out matched? They couldn’t stop him getting taken in the forest and there they had teachers to help, so what in the hell made Kirishima think going without that was a good idea?
“I just said. C’mon Bakugou, you really think we’d just sit around and do nothing? I know if it was me, you’d blast your way in there too.”
For a second, Bakugou almost trips. Because Kirishima sounds so certain about it, like he really believes that. Like he honestly thinks Bakugou would drop everything to save his dumb ass if he got snatched. Like he just has so much fucking faith in him. And that’s not new, people have always said Bakugou’s gonna go far, that he’s got the most amazing quirk, that of course he’s gonna make it big as a hero.
Except… except lately they don’t. People look at him different now. They recognize him as some dumbass kid who got himself caught by a shit tier villain and needed fucking Deku to save the day. Or they see the guy who couldn’t keep it together even when he won because it didn’t go the way he wanted it too. And then… and then the league had honestly thought he’d want to be one of them. A villain. It’s easy to call them stupid, they don’t really know a damn thing about him, but… but the way they looked at him… that they even thought he could…
Bakugou knows that says a hell of a lot more about him than them and it makes him want to blow up the fucking world. He wants to beat every one of those assholes down into the dirt until they see they’re wrong. He could never be like them. He’s a goddamn hero, damn it.
But they don’t see that. People don’t see that anymore. Except Kirishima.
Kirishima who trusts him. Who believes he’d save the day. Who says it like it’s obvious. Who looks at him with those big open eyes and that easy smile. Who doesn’t think twice about rushing in to find him even when it’s beyond stupid. Who makes Bakugou think about his stupid soft hair when there’s a million things wrong with the world. Who’s still fucking here walking him home when he’s gotta be exhausted and fucked up too, but hasn’t complained once.
Who’s the only one Bakugou doesn’t mind giving up a weapon around.
Heat creeps up his neck. “Gimme your hand.”
“What?”
“I said give me your stupid hand, Kirishima.” Bakugou jerks his own rather pointedly into the space between him, fingers open and ready.
Kirishima blinks at his hand for a second before he takes it, smiling so bright it’s like the sun came out again. Their fingers link together this time and that feels a little weird. Not bad weird. He can feel little scars on Kirishima’s knuckles. Probably from quirk training, where his hard skin started to fail while he was beating up on rocks for hours at a time. The light’s shit so he can’t get a good look at them, but… he sort of wants to. Maybe later.
Bakugou gives his hand a little tug to get him to walk faster. His apartment isn’t far and Kirishima doesn’t try to start a conversation, so Bakugou lets the quiet linger. It’s easier not to think about things when he’s holding Kirishima’s hand. He only drops it when they get to the front door. His key is somewhere--probably back with the stuff he brought along for the training camp that got left behind--so he just kicks at the door until he hears voices inside telling him to knock it off.
The door flies open and Bakugou doesn’t have time to blink before he’s yanked forward into his mother’s arms. “What the hell took so long, you little punk?”
“I had to walk all the way back, the hell did you expect?” Bakugou’s voice is muffled against her shirt where she’s crushed him into her shoulder. There’s no time to try to wiggle free because another set of arms wrap around them and his dad joins in.
And it’s fucking weird. They aren’t really touchy. His mom will fuss at his hair when it gets long or cuff him on the back of the head now and then when he mouths off, and sometimes his dad will go for a pat on the back or his shoulder or something. Hugging is new. Hugging is weird.
It makes this lump form in his throat and for a second, he grabs at both of them and holds on tight and pretends he isn’t shaking. He’s home and he’s fine. It’s all fine.
“Uh, I’m just gonna head out.”
Bakugou glances over his shoulder and finds Kirishima already taking a few steps back from the door. He doesn’t get much farther because Bakugou’s mom extracts herself from the tangle of arms and grabs him by the shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, Eijirou. Do you know how damn late it is? Call your mom, I’ll tell her you’re spending the night.”
“Yes ma’am.” Kirishima ducks his head as he pulls out his phone, following along with the tugs that yank him into the apartment.
It’s not the first time Kirishima’s been there. Bakugou’s brought him over to study a few times, and every so often he shows up on his own, usually to ask Bakugou to tag along on a run or some dumb class outing he wouldn’t be caught dead at if it was anyone else trying to make him go. So Kirishima doesn’t seem out of place as he toes out of his shoes and lets Bakugou’s father lead him over to the table, already talking like he’s over there every damn day. Which… alright, compared to the amount of times he’s had other people over, he basically is.
Bakugou takes about half a step to follow when a firm hand lands on his shoulder. “Not so fast, we need to have a little talk, Katsuki.”
Well shit. He grits his teeth, but doesn’t fight it as his mother steers him into the kitchen. It’s the same every time, so much for the vague hope that having a guest in the house would stop the lecture coming. And maybe he’s… he’s kinda pissed actually, because he didn’t even do anything. He wasn’t beating the shit out of Deku or making an ass out of himself on live tv. This wasn’t his fault, damn it.
His parents exchange a few words, his mom making the excuse of getting tea for everyone, asking Kirishima what kind he wants before shutting the kitchen door behind them. Out of sight of the living room, Bakugou shrugs away from the hand on his shoulder and moves away to lean against the cool surface of the fridge, crossing his arms over his chest. He can’t look at her, he’s water over an open fire and he can feel the bubbles starting to rise to the top about to boil over.
“Alright, get it over with,” he says, biting out the words.
“Katsuki--”
“Just let me have it already!” He grimaces and sucks in a breath through his nose. The walls are still thin. If he starts yelling, there’s no way Kirishima won’t hear. She can just tell him how he screwed it all up and ruined everything for everyone because All Might can’t be All Might anymore. She can yell at him and tell him how much of a fuck up he is because he can’t fucking control himself and that’s why the villains came after him. She can tell him that he brought this all on himself and that he’s so damn lucky it wasn’t worse and--
“Katsuki, breathe.” His mother’s hands are soft and smooth where she cups his face, turning his head so he looks up at her.
Bakugou lets up the grip on his own arms as he takes a deep, reluctant breathe. It’s only then that he notices he’s shaking again. His mother sighs, one hand moving to smooth down his hair, her eyes pinched at the corners, perfect brow furrowing. She gives him about a minute and he feels a little less like exploding.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m--”
“Don’t lie to me, Katsuki.”
Bakugou swallows hard and turns his glare to the floor, but even that’s half hearted. After a moment, he shrugs. “Hell if I know. They didn’t hurt me…”
“But?” Goddamn hag, she always knows what he’s thinking. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she had a damn mind reading quirk. They’re too damn similar. The whole damn world is lucky his mother can’t combust, no villain or hero would stand a chance against her.
“But I still feel like shit, alright?” He huffs and jerks away from her hands, but he’s boxed in against the fridge and can’t go far. So he just glares at the tea kettle no one’s preparing. “Being kidnapped fucking sucks, breaking news there.”
“Do you want to give me any details here, brat?” She puts her hands on her hips, even without looking at her, he knows she’s got her expectant face on.
Bakugou shrugs. “Not much to tell. They were assholes.”
She watches him for another long moment before sighing and turning away to finally make the damn tea. “You know, not talking about it won’t make it go away. Your problems don’t care how big and tough you think you are, Katsuki.”
“I fucking know that!” He slams his mouth shut again, casting a quick glance at the door. Goddamn it. He doesn’t want to do this now. He doesn’t want to do it ever. Can’t she just pay some shrink to talk to him once and pretend it’s all fine?
He leans his side against the fridge, putting his back to her. For a few minutes, the kitchen is quiet except for the sounds of his mother fussing with the electric kettle. There’s vague sounds of conversation going on in the other room, probably means his father and Kirishima haven’t heard anything. Good. There’s nothing to fucking hear anyway.
“You know,” his mother says, pouring water into a random assortment of whatever cups are cleanest. She never remembers to do the dishes. “You have other emotions besides anger, Katsuki, might wanna give them a visit one of these days, could be nice getting back in touch with them.”
Bakugou huffs, casting a glance at her over his shoulder. “Like you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you got through a day of work without screaming at someone?”
“This isn’t about me, brat,” she says and Bakugou grins to himself a little at the defensive tone in her voice. Got her on that one. “Look, I’m just saying you shouldn’t bottle this up, whatever it is. What happened to you… it was horrible. You don’t have to talk to me about it, but you need to talk to someone. I talked to that teacher of yours, Aizawa, he might--”
“I’m not talking to my stupid teacher.” Bakugou bristles again, but he takes the cups when his mother pushes them into his hands. “It’s not like he gives a shit.”
His mother hums. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Look,” and she lets out a little sigh, her face softening for a moment, “we’re not done talking about this by a long shot, but you don’t always have to deal with everything by yourself, it doesn’t make you stronger.”
Not looking at her, Bakugou bites his tongue. He wants to snap, ask what the hell she knows about it. How the hell does running around whining not make him a weakling? Even if he was gonna talk to someone… what the hell is he supposed to say? It hasn’t even been a day, how is he supposed to talk about it? There’s too much in his head and he feels like boiling over again.
His mother presses a kiss to his forehead and the heat turns down. The frustration, the anger doesn’t all melt away, but… but something in his gut untwists a little. She smooths his hair again and gives him the softest smile he’s ever seen on her face. “Welcome home, Katsuki.”
A million bitter responses die on his tongue. They taste like ash and acid as he swallows them down and ignores the way his chest squeezes uncomfortably tight. “Yeah, yeah.”
She takes the other two cups and nudges him out to the living room. He ends up sitting next to Kirishima, shoving one of the mugs at him. His parents make casual conversation like one of the pillars holding up the world didn’t just come down a couple hours ago. Kirishima chimes in with them easily, of course he fucking does. The guy could make friends with an actual rock if he tried hard enough.
It’s already late, so it’s not long before his mom sends him to get the spare futon to lay out in his room for Kirishima, who’s way too chipper about their impromptu sleepover. Bakugou… can’t actually remember the last time someone stayed the night. Maybe Deku? But that would’ve been back when they were four and his mom could come and pick him up any time he wanted, which usually happened around midnight, so that doesn’t really count. It’s a weird thing to think about. Not like Bakugou really cares either way. Being liked, having friends, that’s never really been important.
And it sure as shit isn’t something he’s gonna spend time thinking about right now. All he wants to do is pass the fuck out and just not think for a few hours.
There’s a light knock at his door before Kirishima enters, wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt Bakugou had tossed at him before he started messing with the futon. The sweats are a little long on him, but the shirt is tight, stretching slightly over his shoulders. Huh. Bakugou pointedly doesn’t stare as he tosses a pillow at Kirishima’s face before flopping into bed.
The door shuts and he’s vaguely aware of Kirishima settling onto the futon without turning off the light. Asshole. Bakugou’s about ready to grumble at him when there’s a light tap to his arm. He lifts his head up slowly, glaring through half open eyes at Kirishima. “What? I’m trying to sleep.”
“Just wanted to see if you were okay, man.” Kirishima’s sitting with his legs crossed like a little kid. His hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, several strands slipping loose to frame his face that Bakugou kinda wants to tuck back behind his ears.
“I’m fine,” Bakugou insists. “I just wanna fucking sleep.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll kill you.” There’s no malice in the words, so he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed when Kirishima snorts at the threat. Bakugou’s too tired to follow through on it anyway. As soon as he hit the bed it’s like his whole body just turned into lead. It takes way too much effort to just prop his head up to look at Kirishima right now. “The fuck d’you keep asking for?”
Kirishima shrugs. “Feels like I’m should. Just… it was a lot, y’know? For anyone. Wanna make sure you’re doing okay.”
People keep saying that. Asking if he’s okay, if he’s alright. Like they don’t already know and just want to hear him say it. Because he’s not. He’s not he’s not he’s not. How the fuck could he be? But if he says that… if he admits it… he doesn’t know what comes next. People coddling him? Treating him like he’s going to break until he screams at them that he’s just fucking fine like they want him to be.
But Kirishima isn’t a cop. He’s not his mom, he’s not Deku. He’s never tried to lecture him for getting in trouble or treated him different when he screwed up. So… so maybe he can find out what comes next.
There’s a lump in Bakugou’s throat, but he stares Kirishima dead on. “And what if I’m not?”
There’s a slight pause as Kirishima blinks at him and then bites at his lip like he does when he’s going over a particularly tough math problem. A little wrinkle forms between his brows and Bakugou wants to poke it. He does and Kirishima snorts again as he grabs at his hand. “Don’t think so hard, dumbass, you’ll give yourself a headache.”
“I can handle it,” Kirishima says. He hasn’t let go of Bakugou’s hand yet. Taking it in both of his, he turns it over and runs his thumbs along the lines of Bakugou’s palm. The feeling is faint, but still enough that Bakugou has to fight down a shiver as Kirishima goes back to his thinking face. “If you’re not okay… I think that’s probably pretty normal. Most people aren’t okay after getting kidnapped. But I wanna help.”
“How?”
Another shrug. “I dunno. I’ve never been best bros with anyone who’s been kidnapped before. I’ll just… do whatever you need me to, I guess. So do you need anything?”
If it was anyone else, Bakugou would probably say he needs them to get lost or jump off a cliff or something. But it’s not. This is Kirishima, with his big honest eyes and his soft, messy hair, and his gentle fingers moving over Bakugou’s rough hand like he can smooth it down to normal. The hot, twisting feeling in his chest threatens to burn away completely. He almost wants it to.
“Just… turn the light off.” He pauses, swallowing thickly as he shifts his hand, grabbing at Kirishima’s so he can link their fingers together. “And don’t let go.”
Kirishima blinks at him, then gives him the smallest of smiles and a firm nod. “I can do that!”
It takes a little doing, but Kirishima manages to get to the light halfway across the room without letting go of Bakugou’s hand and then fumbles his way back to the futon. “Anything else?”
“Nah, just… be here when I wake up.”
Kirishima’s thumb gently brushes over his and Bakugou can swear he can make out a toothy smile in the dark. “Got it. ‘Night Bakugou.”
Bakugou just grunts back, eyes already shut. Sleep comes easier than he expects it to. Nightmares threaten, but none take hold, a warm hand in his own chasing them away. They can’t do this every night, Bakugou knows that. He’s going to have to deal with it, with all of it sooner or later, but for right now he's safe, and holding Kirishima’s hand, he’s home.