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For the fifth time since lights out, Kirishima hears the sound of the bunk below him creaking, the rustle of sheets as they’re rearranged forcefully, and the unmistakable huff of frustration that can only belong to Bakugou. He checks his watch. It’s 11:43, and from the sound of it, neither of them have had a wink of sleep so far tonight.
“You okay?” Kirishima whispers into the darkness. It’s just them in the dorm room, and yet something about the moment demands he keeps his voice down. Feels more intimate that way.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” Bakugou barks back at his usual volume. So much for intimacy.
Never deterred by the less than fluffy way Bakugou speaks to him, Kirishima shuffles across his mattress until he can dangle his head off of the edge so he’s looking into Bakugou’s bunk. He can just about see him in the darkness, lying flat on his back with his arm draped over his forehead like a swooning maiden. Even in low light, Kirishima can tell he’s scowling.
“Ah, Bakugou, are you having trouble sleeping?”
“I said shut up!”
“It’s okay. I am too.”
“Maybe because you’re talking and not trying to go to sleep. Idiot.”
“Ah, fair point,” Kirishima says, pulling himself back up and settling back down again.
For a moment, he stays quiet, and hopes that Bakugou manages to drift into sleep on his own. Bakugou sleeps well, usually, or at least has done since they started rooming together, though Kirishima knows he sometimes has bad dreams that get him up in the night. He’s found that Bakugou prefers he ignore these moments, or at least not make a huge fuss, but since he’s up too, there’s not much else to do but ponder over how they might both fall asleep tonight.
He thinks, tries to remember how his mother used to get him to sleep when he’d be up all hours, huffing and puffing while he struggled to make his brain ease enough for sleep. She’d speak softly to him a lot of the time, remind him that he was keeping everyone else up with his restlessness, and that was usually enough to guilt him into at least keeping quiet. Well, Kirishima thinks, speaking softly has never been the most effective method of dealing with Bakugou, not least because the softness is bound to get drowned out with his shouting, and it’s not likely that guilt tripping him into calming down is going to do either of them any good. Kirishima thinks back to his mother’s last resort, more of a punishment for her than for him; letting him climb into her bed with her and cuddling him close until he settled.
It’s bold for this situation, but had never once failed back then, and Kirishima would be lying if he said the idea didn’t massively tempt him. So, when he hears Bakugou huff once more, it seems worth it just to try.
“Hey, Bakugou?”
“I said go to sleep!"
“I can’t sleep,” he reminds him, smiling when Bakugou just grumbles in response. “I was thinking.”
“That’s a surprise. Clear your head, stupid.”
“I can’t,” Kirishima whines. “I was thinking, you could come up to my bunk.”
Bakugou goes quiet for a moment, like he’s finally been stunned into silence. It doesn’t last long though, because of course it doesn’t. Bakugou kicks up hard against Kirishima’s mattress, effectively giving his answer to the suggestion. Kirishima jolts but recovers rather quickly; Bakugou does this often. In hindsight, it had been rather stupid of him to beg Bakugou for the top bunk, but in his defence, he hadn’t expected Bakugou to let him.
“Go to sleep,” Bakugou grumbles again, this time with an air of finality. Kirishima hears him turning once more, and then he goes quiet again.
Kirishima likes to bother Bakugou, if only to see how far he can push him. It’s further than most, he’s found, or further than anyone else is willing to try, and Kirishima prides himself on that. Still, for as much as he likes to push, pulling back is a skill he exercises often for the sake of not making Bakugou uncomfortable. He’s very naturally affectionate as a result of his upbringing, but for as much as he likes to jump on Kaminari’s back, and ruffle Tsuyu’s hair playfully, he knows people have different limits and boundaries. It’s Bakugou that’s taught him that lesson more than anyone else, though perhaps not consciously.
So, in amidst the push and pull, Kirishima decides that rolling onto his stomach and dangling his arm over the edge of the bed is neutral enough that it might give him a fighting chance of getting accepted. They’ve held hands before, though not in this context. It’s more when Kirishima goes for a high five, then holds on to it when Bakugou begrudgingly indulges him. Usually he saves it for moments of Bakugou’s triumphs, because it’s in those moments he’s most pliable.
“Hold my hand?” he whispers.
For a second, Kirishima wonders if he’s wrong to try this so boldly. He probably is, and no doubt Tsuyu will tell him so tomorrow when he tells her about this. She already has some thoughts and theories about Kirishima’s relationship with Bakugou, and as much as it’s embarrassing for him to acknowledge, sometimes it’s nice to talk plainly about what they are to each other with someone who’s been observing them keenly since they first met.
He’s just imagining the sort of tone that Tsuyu might take with him tomorrow morning over breakfast, at the same time bracing himself for the kick in the back that is no doubt coming, when he feels Bakugou’s hand being slotted against his, holding on to it weakly. His hands are a little rough, but then he supposes his are too; neither of their quirks do much by way of moisturisation. However, the warmth that settles between them is too comforting for him to dwell on it, and after a moment's adjusting, Kirishima squeezes Bakugou’s hand in his, just enough to show he’s registered the step out of his comfort zone that Bakagou has just taken.
He wonders if perhaps he should say something now, but doesn’t want to disturb the peace. Like when a cat lays down beside you, and you’re careful not to even breathe beside it, lest it bothers the tiny, precious gift the cat has bestowed upon you. Just like that, Bakugou’s hand in his feels like a gift, and so speaking now feels like a very foolish thing to do in Kirishima’s mind. He wonders, if he’s quiet enough, he’ll hear Bakugou start to purr.
He knows they won’t fall asleep like this; Bakugou’s arm will start to ache before long and he’ll let go. But Kirishima will wait for that, rather than speaking now. He just holds as tight as he feels Bakugou will allow him, and smiles gently into his pillow, waiting for sleep to take them both.
Over the next month, there are more nights that have the pair of them holding hands before they sleep than there are nights that don’t. Kirishima has only to dangle his arm from his bunk and wait for Bakugou to make himself comfortable before he takes it, and they’ll lie like that in silence for a while, before Bakugou inevitably drops his arm and they both fall asleep soundly. They don’t exactly talk about it, which is disappointing in some ways, but relieving in others. Kirishima feels that if he mentions it, or tries to talk about what it means, then Bakugou will instantly pull away from it. It’s easier when they’re just reaching out for one another in the dark, and they don’t have to talk about what it means. Kirishima is thinking about it, though. Constantly.
It’s Tsuyu’s opinion that he’s being reckless to allow them both to continue to reach for each other without discussing why it brings them so much comfort. Kirishima is almost sure he knows his side of it, but it’s hard to tell with Bakugou. Sometimes Kirishima allows himself to think it’s his hand that Bakugou is reaching out for, but other times he can’t help but wonder if perhaps he’s just a shape in the dark. For how loud Bakugou is, how much Kirishima hears his voice, he never hears him say much at all, and so deciphering the feelings he keeps wound so tightly around his heart is difficult.
Tsuyu has mentioned this as well, has reminded Kirishima of the way Bakugou tends to attack and then retreat when someone suggests he open up. From the way she has figured it, there’s no way to go from here without completely freaking Bakugou out, or else never feeling true satisfaction of having his feelings laid out before him. So, she has essentially rendered every outcome as a bust for Kirishima. Either he tells Bakugou how he feels, which runs the risk of Bakugou retreating once and for all, or he keeps being the silent, undefined shape for Bakugou to reach out to, and wait for his own feelings to make their retreat instead.
Tsuyu had offered him a hug when she’d laid it all out for him, her apology for being so damn right all the time.
“Take your hand away,” Bakagou growls to him one night, “it makes my arm hurt to hold it up for so long.”
Ah. So, this is it.
Kirishima retracts his hand slowly and rolls onto his back, trying not to feel so dejected that Bakugou has finally torn away from their nightly ritual. It’s not like he’s done anything differently lately; he’s played by the rules he’d written up in his head; don’t make jokes or tease , don’t ask for more than he’s willing to give, don’t think of this as more than what it is.
But then, he can’t say with complete confidence that he hasn’t done anything to make this weird for Bakugou. Sometimes, when they wake up and shift around each other in their shared dorm room to get ready for the day, Kirishima will smile tenderly at Bakugou, unable to help himself from the slight acknowledgement of the change in their relationship. He wonders if maybe Bakugou has caught those smiles, and woven them together to form the conclusion that Kirishima’s feelings aren’t completely platonic. If he’s figured that out, then exactly what holding hands means to him is only a stone's throw away. For all Bakugou shouts at him, tells him he’s an idiot with shitty hair, Kirishima believes he doesn’t want to hurt him, at least not with the pain of leading him on.
Of course, it could merely be as simple as the matter of the awkward angle and lack of blood-flow to Bakugou’s arm. There’s no reason to overthink it, and Kirishima rarely spends time thinking about things much at all, but Bakugou is different. A lot of the time, because he explains so little, Kirishima is forced to write Bakugou’s side of situations in his head, just to fill the gaps. He does it so naturally by now, that he has a hard time remembering what he knows as fact and what is something about Bakugou he’s completely made up.
Kirishima looks up at the ceiling, suddenly wishing he could read minds.
“Maybe we should do that other thing instead,” comes Bakugou’s voice again, sounding almost hesitant this time, if it were possible for Bakugou to be hesitant about anything. He charges full force into any and all situations, which sometimes leads to his triumphs, equally sometimes to his downfall. But now, it’s like he’s testing waters, and perhaps Kirishima needs to rethink this whole thing entirely. Because he may be rigid and predictable in most ways, but just like anyone, Bakugou is always capable of surprises.
“What other thing?”
“You know… The other thing.”
“What?”
“Are you playing with me right now?” Bakugou snaps, angrily. “You know what other thing, just say yes or no.”
“Urm-“
“Ah! You’re so damn annoying,” Bakugou groans, and Kirishima curses himself for messing the whole thing up. But then, ever so quietly, comes another spark of hope. “I’m coming up.”
Kirishima’s eyes widen, and once he hears Bakugou making his way out of his bunk, he rearranges himself despite there being no need for him to move at all; he’s wearing boxers, and even a t-shirt tonight. There’s nothing gross or weird that he needs to shove down the side of his mattress, and Bakugou has seen it all before anyway. Still, the prospect of Bakugou, his friend and the boy he’s been holding hands with for the last couple of weeks, in his bed, is freaking him out. He remembers then that he’s asked for this, he’d asked for this the first time.
God, had he even thought about it when he had?
He listens and waits as Bakugou climbs the step ladder of their bunk, grins a little when he hears the other boy grumble about how uncomfortable the wood slabs are under his feet. When he gets to the top, he stops, looking at Kirishima blankly.
“What do I do?”
“I don’t know,” Kirishima shrugs. “You’re the one that wanted to come up here.”
“I’ll kick your ass.”
“Okay, okay, here.” Kirishima shuffles backwards until his back hits the wall behind him, then opens up his sheet to show the space he’s made for Bakugou, who is still staring at him blankly. “Come on.”
“What is this? What are you doing?”
“Inviting you into my bed.”
“You’re a bastard."
“And I’m sleepy. Are you getting in here or not?”
Bakugou grumbles but gets in to fit in the space that Kirishima has provided him. He lies on his back in front of Kirishima, hands flat by his side, like he’s never laid beside another person before. Kirishima considers the possibility that he hasn’t, figuring it not unlikely.
“What?” Bakugou says, his voice a growl.
“Hm?”
“You’re looking at me, idiot. What are we doing?”
“Trying to get to sleep, I guess.”
“Hmph.”
“You wanna do something else?”
“What would I want to do with you?” Bakugou snaps, like he’s been accused of something. Too defensive not to have anything to defend , Kirishima can imagine Tsuyu saying. Or perhaps that’s just his head trying to give him hope that there is something Bakugou wants to do with him. He knows there’s something he’d like to do with Bakugou.
“We could cuddle?”
“You’re crazy.”
Kirishima should back down then but figures he ought to defend his request. “Well, why else would you be up here?”
Bakugou grumbles at that, and it’s the lack of an out-right no that gives Kirishima confidence. Maybe he’s letting his heart get ahead of him, but they’ve gotten this far, haven’t they? It’s Bakugou that has crawled into his bed, and it’s also him that isn’t leaving. He’d be straight back down into his own bed if he felt uncomfortable, so for as much as he’s acting like this is awkward and strange and wrong, Kirishima knows there’s a part of him that wants to be up here with him. A lot of what Bakugou goes off is pretences. Kirishima sometimes wonders if he’s not even as angry as he makes out all the time, that maybe anger is just the easiest emotion to express.
“So, cuddling?”
“No,” Bakugou answers plainly. It prompts a strange sort of smile out of Kirishima.
“Okay,” he answers, simply, somehow completely okay with this rejection. It’s not like he can be disappointed that Bakugou is being hesitant, since he’s already pushed himself so much just to get this close. Kirishima remembers his rule, don’t ask for more than he’s willing to give, and finds it easy not to. He just lies there, looking up at the dark ceiling with his hands splayed on his chest, smiling to himself in the darkness.
“What are you smiling about?” Bakugou spits after a little while.
“What?”
“You’re smiling.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Because I can see you. My eyes adjusted to the dark, idiot."
“You’re looking at me?”
“I glanced over,” Bakugou grumbles.
“Okay,” Kirishima says, tries to keep from sounding too pleased.
“So, what were you smiling about?”
“Just thinking.”
Bakugou makes a little indignant noise, followed by a huff. He turns onto to his side, blocking any sight of his face, but Kirishima is sure he shuffles backwards just a touch as he does so. The room goes quiet again, and then he speaks again. “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“Are you stupid? What did you just ask me?”
“I was asking if you were looking at me.”
“Stop making this difficult!” Bakugou barks.
“I’m not trying to! I’m just an idiot. What do you want me to do?”
“Just. What you suggested. Let’s do that.”
“Cuddle?”
“Whatever.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ll beat your ass.”
Kirishima takes this for surety, and doesn’t waste any more time before rolling onto his side and shifting until his chest is pressing against Bakugou’s back, his nose brushing the nape of his neck. He raises his arm, ready to place it hesitantly across Bakugou’s waist, when-
“Hey!” Bakugou exclaims, looking over his shoulder and staring at Kirishima with his eyebrows furrowed. From this close, Kirishima could kiss him, if he dared to try. “I’m not going to be the little spoon!”
“I think you already are,” Kirishima responds with a grin. Maybe he should be more nervous that Bakugou’s face is inches from his own. Maybe that’s exactly why he’s grinning.
Bakugou glares at Kirishima for another minute. If Kirishima hadn’t been used to his glares, and the fear they’re no doubt supposed to induce, he might have shifted away. Instead, he waits it out, his smile still wide, until Bakugou turning his head back. “I could kill you,” he grumbles.
“I know that. You’re a tough guy. But even tough guys have to get snuggled sometimes.”
“Don’t say snuggle. Snuggle is a stupid word.”
“What do we call it then?”
“A waste of time.”
“I’m helping you sleep.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Then why have we been doing this for the last few weeks?”
“Doing what?”
“Never mind.”
Bakugou huffs again. Sometimes Kirishima wonders if maybe he just likes the sound. Thinking it better not to ask Bakugou whether he likes the sound of his own annoyance, he carefully brings his arms around Bakugou’s middle instead. When Bakugou doesn’t do or say anything to throw him off, he chances a leg over his waist, curling around his body protectively.
Bakugou works out a lot, and he certainly feels solid and built beneath Kirishima’s hold, but there’s something small about the way he curls into himself, letting for Kirishima to hold him like this. He’s soft, too, not like his hands. Kirishima almost itches to run his hands up and down one of Bakugou’s arms, but decides not to push his luck. He wants to make it easy for Bakugou to escape, if he needs to, but at the same time wants him to know how nice it feels, lying here with him like this. He wonders if it feels as nice for Bakugou.
“Is this okay?”
“Whatever.”
Kirishima smiles. From Bakugou, a ‘whatever’ is as strong of a yes as you could hope for, especially for a question like that. He holds Bakugou a little tighter, then, and he takes the resounding lack of headbutt as a sign that that’s alright by Bakugou. Just before he falls asleep, he feels Bakugou’s hand joining his own where it’s resting on his middle. Gently, or as gently as Bakugou ever does anything, he holds his palm over the back of Kirishima’s hand and laces their fingers together, holding on to his shape in the dark.