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Dating Bakugou hadn’t changed much in Kirishima’s routine. They already ate most meals together. They were already each others’ favorite sparring partners. They already studied together, walked to class together, even spent most of their leisure time together.
There was nothing new about the situation itself, and that was kind of nice. It was Saturday night, so they were studying together in Bakugou’s room, because Bakugou hated leaving homework until the last minute. Well, they were sort of studying together. They were both reading the book for their Japanese literature class, and Bakugou was definitely a lot further than Kirishima, but that just meant Kirishima could make comments and ask questions whenever he wanted.
The book wasn’t particularly interesting, so they were mostly silent. They sat on opposite ends of the bed, Kirishima at the head and Bakugou at the foot, with their legs tangled together. The little details were new with their relationship. They’d both carefully avoided contact before, when they each thought it was one sided and they didn’t want to risk their friendship. For the past few weeks they’d been able to casually press against each other, hold hands, even kiss each other’s faces a few times- not lip to lip, but Kirishima was pretty excited about the fact that they might get there some day.
Kirishima glanced up from his book, thinking maybe he’d nudge Bakugou’s leg and suggest a break, but Bakugou was already looking at him. That was more new. He’d only been doing that for the past couple of days. Anytime they were alone, Kirishima caught Bakugou staring at him. Sometimes he’d tense up or take a breath like he was about to speak, but nothing ever came out.
He must have had something on his mind, but Kirishima knew it was best to let him come out with things like this himself. When Kirishima finally confessed his feelings, Bakugou had informed him that he’d been on the verge of confessing himself at least six times, but Kirishima’s pestering about what was bothering him had… not scared him off, he insisted. Just annoyed him into silence.
Eventually, whatever it was became too much. Bakugou clapped his book shut and shoved it to the side of the bed.
“Sit still. I’m gonna do something.” He moved from his seat at the foot of the bed to sit next to Kirishima, facing him. He crossed his legs, letting his knee rest on Kirishima’s thigh.
Kirishima shut his book and dropped it to the floor.
“I said sit still ,” said Bakugou. “Hands in your lap.”
“You’re bossy today.” He did it anyway.
Bakugou aimlessly rubbed his hands on his sheets. “I’m bossy every day.” They smirked at each other. Bakugou’s smirk morphed into a smaller, softer smile. He’d been doing that a lot lately, just for the two of them. He twirled a strand of Kirishima’s hair around his finger, even though it was gelled up and made a crunching noise with each movement. He didn’t do anything but play with Kirishima’s hair and stare at him, though, and Kirishima stared back. It seemed to go on for years, and Kirishima didn’t mind having his hair played with, but he would’ve liked to move and touch Bakugou as well.
Finally, Bakugou sighed. “Close your eyes.” Kirishima obliged. There was a pause, then a soft thumb ran over the top of his cheek. “You have really long eyelashes.”
Kirishima smiled and cracked one eye open. Bakugou nearly jammed his thumb right into it. “Hey! I didn’t say you could open ‘em.”
“Sorry, sorry!”
Bakugou smoothed his eyebrow and circled back around to his cheek. He let his palm rest against the skin. He’d dried it before he started touching Kirishima, that must have been why was rubbing the sheets, but it was already getting damp again. Bakugou had never admitted to it, but Kirishima was pretty sure his boyfriend got self-conscious about sweating on him when they were trying to be romantic. They never got to hold hands for too long at once. Bakugou would inevitably pull away, grumbling about Kirishima being too sappy or clingy or whatever not-quite-insult he was using that day. Then, just as inevitably, he’d snatch Kirishima’s hand back up after wiping his hands on his clothes. Whatever Bakugou was doing now, it was sure to end soon for that same reason, so Kirishima leaned into the touch while he could.
“You have really high cheekbones, too.”
“Is that good?”
“Of course it’s good. You live under a rock or something?”
“I am the rock.”
Bakugou tsk-ed. One hand stayed put, pressed into Kirishima’s cheek, while the other ghosted up his neck and along his jaw.
“Is that good, too?”
He hummed in response. “Sharp. Manly.” Kirishima grinned. Bakugou tapped two fingers against the squish of his cheek. “That’s good, too. You’ll look young longer.”
He felt breath on his cheek and the press of soft lips.
“And I like it.”
Kirishima laughed, but the breath had been snatched from his lungs, so it was more like a smile and a wheeze. He and Bakugou had given each other plenty of chaste kisses on the cheek or forehead in the past few weeks, but Bakugou didn’t usually initiate it.
“Here I thought you were being objective.”
“Shut up.”
“Can I open my eyes yet? I can tell you what I like about your face.”
Bakugou grunted in the particular way Kirishima knew meant “no.”
He faked a pout. “C’mon, Bakugou. How am I supposed to handle going so long without seeing you? I miss your eyes.”
“Shut up,” Bakugou repeated, this time with more feeling. One hand lifted, and Kirishima heard a rustle that must’ve been Bakugou rubbing his hand on his sweatpants. “‘M not done yet,” he said, and the hand returned.
Kirishima nearly cheered.
Neither of them said anything for a moment as Bakugou traced Kirishima’s hairline. His hands were so soft . All of his skin was soft, thanks to his quirk, but his hands were deceptively so.
The hand at Kirishima’s jaw drifted up to his temple.
He wondered if Bakugou ever worried about hurting people with his explosions like Kirishima worried about hurting people with his hardening.
“The angle of your eyes is. Nice,” Bakugou muttered, thumbing Kirishima’s eyelid. Feather light, he traced Kirishima’s scar, then kissed it even lighter.
Kirishima couldn’t help but grin again, even as his face heated up. “Nice is all you’ve got?” Then, he couldn't get any more words out, because Bakugou was all over him. He trailed kisses across both cheeks, over his forehead, on his jaw- some so light Kirishima could barely feel them and some hard enough he could feel Bakugou’s cheeks press into his own. His soft, soft hands shifted around to make room, but they never went away. All Kirishima wanted to do was reciprocate, but he didn’t dare move. It was more at once than Bakugou had ever been bold enough to give, and Kirishima didn’t want to risk scaring him off.
Still, it ended. Bakugou’s face pulled back, but his hands stayed.
His thumb ran over Kirishima's upper lip, lingering in the dip of his cupid’s bow. “Really pretty lips,” he grumbled. He stayed put another two, three seconds, then pulled both hands away.
That wasn't okay.
Kirishima’s hands flew up from where he’d obediently kept them folded in his lap. He managed to grab one of Bakugou’s wrists. They both froze for a moment. Kirishima covered Bakugou’s hand with his own, carefully unfolded the fist the other boy had reflexively formed, and pressed his lips to the palm.
It was more than damp at this point. It was soaked with glycerin, and the sickly sweet smell was almost overwhelming. He didn’t want to risk hurting Bakugou's feelings, though, even if Bakugou wouldn’t admit to having feelings to hurt. So he held his place for a few more seconds, leaned in closer, and turned the hand around to brush a kiss across Bakugou’s knuckles.
When Bakugou still didn’t respond, Kirishima had to take a chance. He peeked up through his eyelashes and immediately grinned at the sight. Bakugou was staring at his lap, face bright red with the tiniest, twisted-up smile.
Kirishima kissed his knuckles again, then his thumb, then his wrist.
“Hey.” Bakugou’s voice somehow managed to crack on just one syllable. “Eyes closed, asshole. I didn’t tell you to look.”
Kirishima laughed. Bakugou muffled him with the very hand he’d been kissing and shoved him back until he was sitting up straight again. Kirishima contemplated licking Bakugou's hand if he didn’t move it soon.
“I mean it. Close ‘em.”
He sighed as loud as he could against Bakugou’s palm but did as he was told. After a few seconds, Bakugou must have been satisfied, because he slid his hand back into Kirishima's hair.
The bed creaked. Hot breath hit Kirishima’s lips, making his heart jump, and Bakugou’s forehead settled against his own. He had to squeeze his eyes to keep them shut.
“Is this okay?” His voice wasn’t really quiet- it never was- but it was soft, like his hands, like his lips.
Eloquent as always, Kirishima managed a strangled “mhm.”
Bakugou’s brow shifted against his skin. “Are you sure?” he asked, already pulling away.
Kirishima clamped onto Bakugou’s free hand, stopping him in his tracks. “ Yes .”
Bakugou exhaled hard. Kirishima leaned in. “It’s okay? If I- you know, I-”
“Do it.”
It was immediately obvious that Bakugou didn’t know how to kiss. He wasted no time in getting started, but his lips were closed tight against Kirishima’s parted ones, and instead of moving them he just kept pressing his whole head forward.
Kirishima couldn’t say he minded. He pressed back and squeezed Bakugou’s hand. He’d never kissed anyone, either. They could learn together. He would tutor Bakugou for once.
When they broke apart, he stopped fighting back his smile. He hoped Bakugou could feel it in those last seconds that their lips touched.
He opened his eyes. Bakugou’s were still screwed shut, pale eyelashes a stark contrast against red cheeks.
Kirishima grinned and lifted his free hand to Bakugou’s temple. “My turn. Keep ‘em closed.”