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It’s strange how Kirishima always ends up here at times like this.
Bakugou opens the door and takes one look at him, taking in how the rain clings to his clothes but drips from his body. Bakugou knows him well enough to easily spot just how exhausted he is with a single glance, so he lets him in without a word, turning and walking back into the apartment. Kirishima closes the door behind him, slowly removing his shoes. He knows the drill by now.
Kirishima goes straight to the bathroom, where a clean towel and fresh set of clothes are waiting for him on the counter. The water’s already running so he strips and enters the shower, shoulders immediately relaxing at the feeling of the hot water against his skin. He’s been a hero long enough to know that no amount of scrubbing will get rid of the pains and heartaches that come with the job. That doesn’t stop him from trying.
An oversized set of Crimson Riot pyjamas are waiting for him when he finally emerges, and his heart leaps in his chest. Even the body lotion Bakugou set out for him was given careful consideration, a tub of his favourite shea body butter unopened and untouched.
When he comes out of the bathroom he’s met with the familiar sight of Bakugou standing in front of his stove, stirring the meat and vegetables that sizzle in the pan. He looks over at Kirishima and studies him up and down before meeting his eyes and nodding in the direction of the living room, turning back to the stove.
Curious, Kirishima hops off the stool and makes his way to the living room. Folded up on the couch is the big, blue duvet that Kirishima absolutely adores and Bakugou only ever brings out of the closet when Kirishima is over. Kirishima smiles and reaches for it, letting out a small gasp as he realizes that it’s comfortably warm to the touch. The warmth of the blanket seems to spread to his chest as he understands the implication. Bakugou had put the blanket in the dryer for him. To comfort him, to help him feel better after a long day of pressure and self-doubt. Smiling, Kirishima picks up the duvet and wraps himself in it, revelling in its warmth and the smell of Bakugou’s detergent. He sits and curls up on one end of the couch. Within moments, he finds himself dozing off.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed before he’s being woken up with a light nudge on his shoulder.
Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just presents a steaming bowl to Kirishima.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Kirishima sits up properly from where he had slouched in his sleep, reaching for the bowl and silently thanking Bakugou with a smile. It’s his favourite dish of course, a simple beef stir fry, heavy on the beef.
Bakugou just grunts lowly and seats himself on the opposite side of the couch, picking up a book from its place on the table and reading silently as Kirishima eats the food given to him.
Bakugou’s apartment has become a home, Kirishima muses as he places piece after piece of food into his mouth. It’s Bakugou’s apartment that he goes to when he’s stressed, excited, hungry, depressed. And it’s Bakugou himself who takes care of him through all of this. Bakugou, who gives him everything he needs before he himself even realizes he needs it. Bakugou, who never shuts the door on him, who is there for Kirishima from start to finish no matter his mood. Bakugou, who knows just what to do every single time.
When he thinks of “home” he doesn’t think of his own apartment, messy and lonesome. He thinks of Bakugou. Of his neat apartment, of the smell of his cooking, of the quiet sound of his breathing. He thinks of the way Bakugou looks when he’s focused, when he’s sleepy, when he’s content.
Home, he now realizes, is Bakugou.
He loves his home.
He loves Bakugou.
And it’s scary, how much he loves Bakugou, how much he cares for him. But it’s less scary, knowing that Bakugou feels the same way. Because that has to be what this is, right? All of this — giving him food, and clothes, and putting a duvet in the dryer for him has to be because Bakugou loves him too, right? Because Bakugou wants the best for him, and wants him to be happy in the same way Kirishima wants Bakugou to be happy.
It’s kind of silly that it has taken him so long to come to this conclusion. Of course he’d already known he loves Bakugou. He’s loved Bakugou since high school, the same way he loves his other friends and his sisters and his moms. But it had taken him this long to finally put the pieces together. For him to realize that the love he feels for Bakugou is different. It’s overwhelming and constant. Sometimes the love he feels is quiet, but sometimes it’s loud and all he can think about.
Bakugou is all he can think about.
Kirishima is pulled out his musings when his chopsticks noisily hit the bottom of his bowl. He looks down and sees that it’s empty. With a frown, he supposes that now there’s no more reason for him to stay.
It’s time for him to go.
But he doesn’t want to.
He wants to remain here, with Bakugou, his home, and stay wrapped up in his warm duvet. He wants to go to bed with Bakugou and wake up with him. Wants to cook breakfast with him and leave for work with him. He wants to come home to Bakugou like he did today. Wants Bakugou to come home to him.
He wants to stay.
He can’t.
With a heavy heart, Kirishima goes to stand.
A hand stops him.
He looks down and see that Bakugou’s reached over and wrapped a hand loosely around Kirishima’s ankle. Looking into his eyes Kirishima finds that they’re soft. Comfortable. Wanting.
Stay, Bakugou’s silently saying. I want you to stay. I want you here.
Kirishima stays.