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Honestly, the night had been so fucking weird that Bakugou was glad to be back in their eye-sore of a hotel room for the night.
He stalked into the room ahead of Kirishima, hands shoved into his pockets. He was mostly annoyed at the fact that their first real date had gotten fucked over so hard by some idiots that had some motivation that he hadn’t cared to find out about before he dragged the redhead away from the settling scene. Sure, they’d kind of wandered into the whole scenario when they’d gotten distracted by each other in the elevator but they still helped, they were heroes after all but it still kinda sucked that after being dragged out in this stupid suit that hadn’t gotten to really enjoy anything.
As if sensing his slowly darkening mood, Kirishima paused, closing the door behind them and reaching out for Bakugou’s hand. The blond turned to look at the redhead who just grinned at him, sharp teeth on display and it made his stupid heart slam into his rib-cage like it was trying to escape. “What?”
“I was just thinking,” Kirishima started, getting into his space a little more, “other than the making out in the elevator part this date didn’t exactly work out how I hoped.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking sheepish in the moon drenched space of their room. Bakugou felt his face turn bright red at the mention of said make out, starting to open his mouth to tell his not-quite boyfriend to shut the fuck up but, as always, Kirishima just pushed forward with no fear.
“Kinda hope I can salvage it.”
“Oh yeah?” Bakugou said, eyes darting to the side, lower lip pushed out in a slight pout. He was definitely curious, the redhead always managed to surprise him. After all, that was why they were even in this weird as fuck situation, Kirishima Eijirou barreling passed every obstacle Bakugou could have put in his way on his single-minded quest to get the blond’s heart, declared in the days following the Sport’s Festival. “What’s your plan, shitty hair?”
Kirishima laughed a little and pulled Bakugou further into the room, moonlight shivering over his broad shoulders, across the slate grey fabric ruined by debris and his quirk. He pressed a few buttons on the little radio there, switching rapidly between channels, until quiet music began to wind its way around the room, laced and threaded in the air a thousand times till it was almost intoxicating. Kirishima turned around after that, his fingers still twined with Bakugou’s until he adjusted his grip and pulled the blond a bit closer, settling his free hand on his hip and looking at him shyly.
“Dance with me?” he asked, voice quietly afraid of rejection and the gesture just stabbed Bakugou in the heart till he placed his free hand on Kirishima’s shoulder and scowled at him.
“Just don’t step on my feet, jackass,” Bakugou grumbled, venom missing from his voice and Kirishima grinned at him in return.
As it turned out, the redhead actually wasn’t a bad dancer. It wasn’t like it was a complicated dance to begin with, more of a box step if it could be counted as even that in the enclosed space between the dresser and the bed.
But the music filled Bakugou’s head with fuzz and their bodies drifted closer together until he could feel Kirishima’s heart beating against his own in exquisite counterpoint. Moving together felt almost natural, easy. Because Kirishima made things easy, even when he was being hard-headed and trying to make up for his own shitty behavior, he made it so easy to get swept up in the moment. In the atmosphere. The trilling piano and gentle female voice lulled him into the rhythm, the warmth of Kirishima’s rough hand against his own slightly sweaty palm feeling so visceral and real in that swaying sanguine second that it made the breath catch in his chest.
Up until now it had been clandestine making out and competitions, flirting physically and verbally in sparring matches that made Bakugou’s blood run hot and fierce in his veins. Part of him wanted to blame it on puberty but everything else in him knew it rested solely on Kirishima’s shoulders.
He flicked his eyes up to look at the redhead’s face and met his eyes instead, lost in the sharp red color that seemed all the more intense for how the moonlight robbed the tan from his skin. Kirishima smiled softly, pressing their foreheads together as the song shifted from one to another, rising horns swelling and weaving a tale of soft, sweet love in the empty spaces in the air.
Bakugou found his hands moving to circle around Kirishima’s neck, the redhead’s own moving to grip his hips in a gentle hold and Bakugou took the moment to just... appreciate his not-quite boyfriend who, if he was being honest with himself, was almost definitely his boyfriend. Because Kirishima was a contradiction in living flesh, strangely simple and complex, the kind of puzzle that Bakugou, in his most disgustingly romantic thoughts, felt he could spend his life unravelling along with his climb to the top. He was soft and rough all at once, sharp teeth and gentle eyes, the sweetest smile and the filthiest mouth when frustrated. And Bakugou felt his heart twist in on itself as they stopped swaying for a moment, all the air between their bodies pressed away, Kirishima’s breathing ghosting over his ear in a way that made Bakugou shiver gently in his arms.
Because it came crashing down on him all at once.
That it was all real .
The moonlight and the music had swept him away for a moment, let him feel dreamlike and weightless, but it was real like the scent of Kirishima’s hair gel in his nose and the taste of smoke still lingering on his tongue, acrid and itching.
He pulled back a bit to look at Kirishima’s face and he saw that endless affection in his eyes along with that fear of rejection lingering behind. They began swaying again, noses brushing, those soft feelings locking their claws into Bakugou’s very soul and twisting, making his eyes start to slide shut, making his head tilt and Kirishima may have not been the best with school work but the fucker understood social cues even Bakugou had issues picking up on. So he slotted their mouths together gently, slowly, holding Bakugou tight against his firm body while the blond buried his fingers in bright red hair, internally cringing at the feeling of hair gel crunching in his grip but that was quickly swept away by the burst of warmth in his body.
It wasn’t entirely like their earlier kisses. Sure, they were still learning, still adjusting to avoid cutting Bakugou on Kirishima’s sharp teeth. But it felt more natural now, easy in the way that only Kirishima could seemingly make things. When they parted Bakugou found himself leaning forward to leave a last peck, like a signature, like a brand, trying to capture every last little moment of it before it ended.
Kirishima’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled again at him, one hand drifting up to cup Bakugou’s cheek.
“How did I do?” he asked and Bakugou had to take a minute to figure out what he was talking about before his own lips broke into a small smirk of his own.
“Guess you did okay,” he said roughly, feeling Kirishima laugh in his arms, still playing with his red hair, “you’re gonna have a hell of a time topping yourself for the second date. I’d hate to be you right now.”
Kirishima laughed at that, grin bright and wide and brilliant like the moon drifting outside the window. “That means I am getting a second date then, right?” he asked, still checking boundaries while pushing them at the same time.
“You fucking better take me on a second date, Eijirou,” Bakugou said, blushing and scowling, “you’re my fucking boyfriend, aren’t you?”
And Bakugou took a moment to revel in the shocked and awe-struck look on the redhead’s face before Kirishima just tugged him into a bone-breaking hug.
“You got it, Katsuki.”