Archive of Our Own

It was probably after Kamino that Katsuki really started noticing Kirishima. Obviously he saw him, dude was like a friggin neon sign with his bright red hair and sunshiny smile. 

But Katsuki hadn’t really noticed him on this sort of level before.

When their palms connected... Katsuki couldn’t really describe what he felt. Pure adrenaline from the fight for his life, insurmountable relief that he was actually alive, that he got out of there. This weird, giddy sort of happiness, which was probably some endorphins shit.

More than anything though, he was hyper aware of that strong hand gripping his, palm to palm, warm, solid, and real. His friend had come for him, he was here, and Katsuki was alive.

After that, it was like a switch in Katsuki’s brain had been flipped. He started looking for Kirishima whenever they were in a room together. He looked to Kirishima when he won a fight in class, when he did well on a test, when he said something not completely angrily to one of their friends during lunch. Seeking approval, sorta.

At first it really bugged the fuck out of Katsuki. He didn’t need any shit from anyone, least of all Kirishima. Katsuki was going to be the Number One hero someday, of course he was gonna be good at all this crap. He didn’t need a smile and thumbs up from fucking Shitty Hair to tell him he was awesome. 

It was stupid, but...

Whenever Kirishima looked over at him with his million-lumen smile, shark teeth and all, Katsuki’s heart jumped in his chest. There was a sort of rush inside Katsuki that left him dizzy and ridiculously ecstatic, and it only happened with Kirishima.

Obviously this was a problem.

Katsuki was going fucking nuts.

All Shitty Hair had to do was fucking- just... look at him and Katsuki felt like he was soaring through the air, high above the battle field, wind whipping through this hair and hand clutched in his best friend’s.

So Katsuki did the first thing that came to mind.

He started exploding a lot, all over the place.

Hopefully it covered up the ridiculous heat in his cheeks whenever Kirishima bounded over with a thrilled yell of, “Hey, Bakugou!”

Obviously, some people picked up on the distinct uptick in explosions. Moving into the dorms didn’t help one fucking bit. Everything was much too exploadable and at some point Eyebags had threatened to bill Katsuki’s parents for the sheer amount of property damage, so Katsuki had to lay off the distraction tactics.

Kirishima was so close all the time now... Katsuki realized his friend had really freaking soft cheeks, it was almost weird. Not that Kirishima knew Katsuki had accidentally touched his soft cheeks while he was taking a nap. And then maybe kinda sorta intentionally touch his cheeks with a very gentle thumb. 

The provisional lisence exam came and passed, and Katsuki fucking failed. It stung more than he wanted to admit. He was stuck training with Halfie after that, and it was weird but... Katsuki couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he didn’t get to see Kirishima as much anymore.

Of course he saw the guy all the time, their friend group practically lived in the communal area when at all possible... and maybe it was. Not horrible. Having friends wasn’t like before, when they all followed him around cause he had a strong quirk and he was gonna be a hero. Now, Katsuki actually felt... marginally less apathetic about Soy Sauce Face and Racoon Eyes and Fucking Pikachu. Being around them was... nice. It made him feel warm.

Ah fucking shit, he was getting all sappy goddamn it!

Whatever. They had nothing on Shitty Hair. 

And with the extra training, and then Kirishima’s internships, their time alone together began to dwindle. Kirishima had less time to study with Katsuki, he had make-up classes, and he was usually too tired to do anything social by the time he got back to the dorms. Sometimes, in the quiet, dark depths of night, Katsuki would lie awake and think about going next door to see Kirishima, talking with him until the sun came up.

It was surprisingly hard to feel comfortable when such a stable component of Katsuki’s life was taken out of the picture. He was antsy and withdrawn, and everything started to weigh on him. All Might’s retirement (his fault his fault ) felt like a stab to the gut, and Katsuki flailed without his usual positivity boy in his corner.

When Kirishima got hurt in the Eight Precepts raid, Katsuki felt like he couldn’t breathe. The dorms were suffocatingly empty and quiet. Everyone seemed subdued by the raid, particularly Kirishima’s friend group. Kaminari’s smiles were hollower, Sero spaced out during class, Ashido lost her weird fashion taste and ended up walking around in plain shirts and sweatpants all day.

But Kirishima came back.

He came back.

Katsuki soared.

In hindsight, it was stupid how long it took for Katsuki to figure this shit out, but he did eventually. 

It was while Katsuki was making breakfast for the dorm (none of these fuckers had any cooking skill and Todoroki was going to kill them all with cremated bacon dust someday) when he realized he was probably having romantic feelings for his best friend.

“FUCK!” he yelled, hurling an unused spatula across the room. Throwing soft-edged utensils seemed preferable to paying for a new stove.

At the communal dining table, Deku startled so hard he sloshed cereal all over his lap. “What the- Kacchan!!”

This was absolutely a disaster. Katsuki was gonna murder whichever fuckwit thought feelings were a good idea.

“Did you burn something? Are you okay? You know none of us will mind if you don’t wanna make breakfast today, that’s perfectly fine, unless you do wanna make breakfast- I just don’t want you to feel pressured to-”

“Shut it, shitty nerd!” Katsuki snapped, whisking through the eggs with extreme prejudice. “I’m fucking FINE, go change you dolt, you’ve got milk all over your damn shirt.”

Deku squinted at him suspiciously, but he didn’t question his reaction any further, sighing as he got up and waddled away to the elevators, peeling off his wet shirt in the process.

Fucking fuck. What was Katsuki supposed to do now?! This was all new territory, and he wasn’t even slightly prepared. He hated romance movies with a passion and now he had to do some bullshit romance stuff with his best fucking friend? How the hell was he gonna be good at that when he didn’t even have a single point of reference??????

Katsuki set down the bowl and began pouring out eggs for scrambling with a firm scowl on his face. This was dumb. And now he needed that spatula he threw away. 

Fuck.

In the end, Katsuki completely spaced out in class, half-heartedly took notes, and resigned himself to his new reality. He... groan... liked his best friend. 

This whole thing felt... so weird. One moment, he was sitting in class listening to Mr. Ectoplasm drone on and on about whatever the fuck equasions, and the next moment his eyes would drift slowly, absentmindedly over to Kirishima, with his pointy red hair and attentive eyes, desperately trying to absorb the material on the board.

Katsuki’s chest would grow warm and he found himself not grimacing like usual. 

Of course, the moment he noticed what he was doing, Katsuki scowled and faced front again, stomping on his heart and willing it still. 

That didn’t work long though, because only a few minutes later his eyes would drift over to Kirishima again and- goddamn it this guy was like a friggin lamp post. Katsuki just wanted to go over there and sit down on his lap- oh god what the fuck was happening to Katsuki’s brain?!

So.

Obviously he needed some sort of plan. He couldn’t just get distracted all day. 

His first idea was to punch everything in sight until the end of time, but Deku was usually the first thing in sight, and Katsuki didn’t do that now. Or at least, if he did they’d probably go back to having a bad relationship, and that would probably make Kirishima disappointed in him.

When did Kirishima become Katsuki’s measure of approval? Damn, this was... serious.

Katsuki scowled into his notebook and scribbled notes angrily. If punching wasn’t an option, then he needed some sort of outlet, one that didn’t involve blowing up stuff. 

The answer didn’t come until everyone began to walk back to the dorms after class. Katsuki thought it was dumb, but... he picked up a rock on the side of the path.

It was polished and gentle, about the size of his palm. The grainy light gray exterior had a small dent on the side, a tiny jagged edge along the smooth surface. It kinda reminded Katsuki of the soft skin of Kirishima’s cheek under his thumb.

Maybe it was a dumb idea, but whatever, Katsuki didn’t know what else to do.

He was going to make an outlet. Do self care and shit. And he was going to be damn good at it.

Shoving the rock in his pocket, Katsuki walked back to the dorms with purpose, seeking out the one person he needed most at that moment.

“Hey Ponytail!” he called, stopping her in the common room.

Thrown, Ponytail turned and quickly formed a smile. “Bakugou! What can I do for you?”

“I need... googly eyes. And glue,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. One curled around the rock. He looked away, trying to relax and seem unsuspicious.

Ponytail looked even more thrown now, but she didn’t question him, quickly producing a small tube of glue and a plastic baggie of googly eyes of various sizes. “Will these be suitable?”

Katsuki snatched the supplies out of her hands and grunted. Perfect. “Whatever.” Without looking back, he stalked up to his room, leaving several incredulous gazes in his wake. They didn’t have any right to judge him. He could do whatever he wanted, damn it.

Slamming his door and settling down at his desk, Katsuki slid the round little stone out of his pocket. Warmth spread through his fingertips as he smoothed them over the flat surface. 

“Okay... let’s do this...” he muttered, grabbing the glue and setting to work putting two little globs on the front. Ponytail gave him a pretty good range of googly eyes, and the glue almost started to dry as he sorted through them all to find the perfect size, but he got there eventually. 

Stick one eye on, two eyes on, and he was all set to go. Just to be safe, Katsuki blew on the rock before setting it down to face him. One of the eyes had the little dent above it, just like he wanted. He leaned down and gave the thing a menacing look.

“‘Kay, listen up you lil shit. You’re here, so you’re gonna be listening to me from now on.”

The rock stared at him.

“Don’t give me that shit! It’ll be fine,” Katsuki growled, waving a finger at it. “‘Sides, you get to hear about Kirishima, and he’s awesome. So you’ll definitely like him.”

He wasn’t blushing. He wasn’t.

“...talking to a stupid dumb rock,” grumbled Katsuki, shoving away from his desk and flopping down on his bed. “Whatever.” He refused to be embarrassed. He was doing a good self care thing, he was the self care king. Fucking best. 

“I can hear you judging me.”

It was actually kind of nice to be talking to something that wasn’t gonna answer him. Better than waiting for the thoughts to ricochet off his skull and keep him awake at night. 

So a few days passed. Classes continued, Katsuki still couldn’t help his wandering eyes that always returned to the spiky red hair that made his heart flutter like a ridiculous butterfly. Sometimes he watched Kirishima in heroics 101 while the red head sparred, casually admiring the fucking amazing muscle control he had. Kirishima was like a fucking tank, he could take anything and get back up with a smile and some manly one-liner.

Of course, then Katsuki would scream and explode anything in his immediate vicinity, stomping off the minute class was over.

He’d go to his room and lie down on his bed, stare at the ceiling and talk. His new pet rock, perched on his bedside table, listened quietly. Sometimes Katsuki only spoke a sparse few words, a large portion of which were swear words, and sometimes he talked for what felt like hours, about how dedicated Kirishima was, his horrible fucking fashion sense, how he got a good score on a test or helped out a friend.

Katsuki admired him so fucking much.

It was a little bit frustrating at times, though. Katsuki wanted to be closer to Kirishima, which was some bullshit because he was already pretty fucking close to the guy. He didn’t want to sit on his fucking lap, and it was dumb that that idea actually sounded appealing.

“What do I do?” Katsuki asked, turning to face his rock. “He’s just- fucking beautiful and strong and I’m just a-” no. No... he did not want to finish that sentence. (He wasn’t going to think about how it was his fault, all his fault .) Clamping his jaw shut, Katsuki turned away to face the ceiling again. “Maybe I should cook something for him. Or the whole class or whatever. He likes when people do nice shit for other people.”

Damn it. Fucker was making him all soft.

“You asshole,” Katsuki grumbled at his rock. “Fine, if you insist.”

So there he was, 5:30 in the morning, standing in the kitchen still half asleep.

Maybe he got a tad bit overzealous. Oops. 

“Um... Kacchan?” Deku said, waving to him. Shitty nerd had the gaul to look concerned.

“...when the fuck did you get here.” Katsuki slurred sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand.

“Five minutes ago...” Deku murmured. “You’re um... you’re stirring an empty pan. And the stove’s not on.”

Katsuki looked down. Shit, the nerd was right. For a moment, Katsuki stared down at the pan like he was going to light it on fire with the power of his mind. Then he yelled, “FUCK!” and threw the wooden spoon at the wall.

Deku sighed and carefully maneuvered around his sleepy classmate. “Here. I can get out eggs and stuff, if you want? Kacchan?” 

Fuming, Katsuki gestured violently. “Yeah fine, what the fuck ever.” He was too tired for this fucking shit. “Get stuff out for pancakes, Deku,” he mumbled.

Like the dumbass exuberant little shit he was, Deku’s whole face lit up. “Oh wow, pancakes!! That’s a special treat! Are you gonna make Auntie Mitsuki’s buttermilk pancake recipe?”

“Yeah, nerd.”

“Awesome! Can I help?” Deku asked, looking excited for a whole second before his face crumbled into uncertainty.

Katsuki stiffened. They’d both been working on their tentative friendship by this point, but neither had really approached the other about working together on something not school-assigned. Unwanted old resentment bubbled under Katsuki’s fingers and he clenched his jaw, trying to temper the gut reaction to push Deku away and yell at him.

This was for Kirishima. He was doing a good thing for the whole class. Maybe Kirishima would be proud of him if he worked with dumbass Deku. Besides, it was way too early for this shit and Katsuki could barely remember the recipe when his head was still half buried in dreamland.

“Yeah sure. Whatever. Get the fucking flour ‘n’ shit. I’ll crack some eggs.”

Deku looked like he was about to cry. Or Shoot Style himself through the roof.

When the rest of the class began to trickle down, enticed by the heavenly scent of pancakes, they were greeted by an unprecedented sight. There stood Midoriya and Bakugou, side by side, each pouring pancakes onto pans, monitoring them, flipping and sliding pancakes onto plates to grab.

“...I’m not dreaming, am I?” Ojiro asked, rubbing his eyes and squinting.

“No, I don’t believe you are,” Iida replied, looking equally perplexed.

Eijirou was stunned, to say the least. There was Bakugou, in all his glory, with slight bags under his eyes, shoulder to shoulder with Midoriya, of all people.

“Come get them while they’re warm!” Midoriya called cheerfully. “This is Kacchan’s mom’s recipe, and it’s so good!”

Oh... that made sense. Kirishima felt a small, ugly pang of jealousy and longing pinch at his heart. 

Midoriya and Bakugou would always have more history, more common ground, more shared experiences together than he himself had with Bakugou. Of course they’d end up being close. In a way, Eijirou was really happy for them. Even though they shared an uneasy truce now, Eijirou knew they’d be an amazing duo in the future, an unstoppable force. 

Maybe he wanted that with Bakugou.

But he wasn’t gonna be selfish and deprive his best friend of that companionship. So he let the small twang of insecurity slip away and gave Midoriya a bright smile as he received his plate. “Thanks bro! They smell awesome.”

Heading over to where Kaminari and Sero were already eating, Eijirou slid down into his seat and poured some syrup over the pancakes. “Thank you for the food!” he said, before digging in.

Oh god. They were absolutely fantastic! 

Eijirou moaned, his shoulders dropping and his eyes slipping shut as he savoured the perfect first bite. So so good... he had just ascended to heaven. Proven fact. Bakugou was a cooking angel, and he just gave Eijirou a buttermilk cloud on a plate.

“Hey Bakugou!” Sero called. “Looks like your pancakes have Kirishima’s aproval.”

Eijirou blinked, straightening up and looking around. His eyes met Bakugou’s perpetual scowl, but even from far away, the redhead could tell that the blond was asking a silent question.

“Broooo...” Eijirou sighed happily, a dopey smile splashed across his face. “So good. The manliest pancakes ever. Thank you so much!” He grinned and gave two huge thumbs up.

Bakugou’s entire face reddened, and for a moment Eijirou worried he might have overstepped or something, but then-

“Holy shit,” Kaminari whispered. “Is Bakubro smiling?!”

“Holy fuck, bro, I think he is,” Sero whispered back.

Eijirou felt his heart skip a beat and a blush dust his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Bakugou was smiling, and it was the cutest, manliest thing Eijirou had ever seen. Lips just barely curled up, the corners of his eyes scrunched, he looked so relaxed and beautiful. Eijirou wanted to run up there and kiss that adorable smile.

“Dude, you’re totally making googly eyes,” Kaminari snickered. Eijirou punched him in the arm, neck reddening.

“I’m just... really proud of him is all. He made pancakes for all of us, and he doesn’t make pancakes all the time, ya’know. He even worked with Midoriya. Pretty manly if you ask me,” Eijirou mumbled, smiling down at his golden brown slice of heaven.

“It’s more than that,” said Sero, fork cutting a triangle of fluffy goodness. “It’s not any of our birthdays or anything. And he never works with Midoribro if he can help it.”

“Hey, yu’re rigf!” Kaminari muffled around a bite of pancake.

Tilting his head, Eijirou looked over to his best friend again, studying him as he pointed the wooden spatula at Midoriya and yelled something half incomprehensible. 

“You think he did it for Kirishima?” Sero asked.

“WHAT?!” Eijirou nearly yelled, eyes whipping over to Sero in complete shock. “I- That’s not- Why do you think- I don’t-”

Kaminari chuckled, quickly swallowing his bite. “Oh come on, dude, isn’t it obvious? Kacchan did it because he wants you to be proud of him! He did something difficult for him, and he smiled like that because you were proud, so it was all worth it.”

Eijirou was as red as his hair, then. “I- hhhh.”

Sero simply patted him on the shoulder with a sympathetic expression. “There there. Young love is hard.”

“Serooooo.”

There. Katsuki fucking did that.

“And Kirishima smiled brighter than the fucking sun,” he said. “It was awesome. His sharp teeth could probably bite my finger off, they're so cool. When we’re pro heroes, he’s gonna growl at the villains and they’ll just run away cause they’re scared shitless of him. And they should be. Kirishima’s a fucking power house.”

His pet rock sat appreciatively on the bedside table, its two little googly eyes staring in opposite directions.

Katsuki turned to stare at it, a thoughtful hum purring in his chest. “You know, you don’t talk. I like that.” The rock wasn’t gonna judge him for being such a fucking sap. Other people would probably say it was an indication of his severe lack of social skills, but they could all go to hell. He was fucking great at this shit.

“Kirishima’s really loud,” he mused. “And he always sticks his hair up really tall. But sometimes he takes a shower and then just lets it stay down for the rest of the day. It’s fucking great. I like all his hair styles. He could go back to black hair and I’d still fucking like it.”

Everything was great about Kirishima. He was great. Katsuki loved to watch him work on homework, tongue just barely poking out of the corner of his mouth when he was concentrating hard. And when Kirishima got tired, sometimes he lounged around in the common room, basking in the warmth of one of the couches. 

Sometimes Katsuki would come in before going to bed and see Kirishima totally asleep, breathing gently, soft pink lips just barely parted, his hair splayed loosely across his shoulders. He looked so adorable when he slept, so at peace, without a care in the world. Katsuki wanted that for him all the time, to be content and happy.

“Fuck,” Katsuki whispered. “I like all of him. So much.”

Soon, the two eyed rock wasn’t enough. Katsuki was getting antsy, way too distracted during class, and now it was spilling over to his study time. His head was filled with thoughts of Kirishima and his stupid red hair. How nice it would feel to run his fingers through that when it was down, how Kirishima would smile with his little shark teeth. 

How nice it would be to just... touch Kirishima’s lips. Just a little.

“FUCKING SHIT SON OF A BITCH MOTHERFUCKER!” Katsuki screamed, hurling his phone across the common room, where it smacked soundly on the back of a couch. 

Deku nearly jumped out of his skin, head snapping up and eyes sweeping the room for threats. Several other extras looked around in alarm, not expecting such an unprovoked outburst from their explosion-prone classmate.

Katsuki growled furiously and exploded his homework, yelling, “DIE!” as anger writhed through his veins like an enraged dragon. This was getting to be way too much of a fucking problem, and it was interfearing with his school work. 

Which- absolutely not. Katsuki was going to be the Number One fucking Hero, and he had to know this stuff, god damn it. He absolutely could not be daydreaming about his best friend’s lips when he was supposed to be working on his homework, that was stupid and shitty. No way, Katsuki would not let this happen.

Hearing the commotion, Aizawa-sensei peered out of his office with an unimpressed glare. “Bakugou, I swear to god, if you blew up that table I’m giving you a day of house arrest.”

“I didn’t blow up the table!” Katsuki snarled, gripping his pencil until his knuckles were white.

Aizawa-sensei squinted at him, like he did when he caught Katsuki spacing out in combat training (which usually coincided with Kirishima’s participation in whatever exercise they had going).

Katsuki gripped at his hair and stared down at the smoking hole in his homework. Fuck. He needed to figure out what to do, and fast. He couldn’t just talk about it with Kirishima. Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well. ‘Oh wow, I’m so glad you see me as a good friend, Bakugou! I think you’re a great friend too!’ Dumbass would say something like that and then Katsuki would be stuck daydreaming again.

Or worse...

Then, like a lightbulb over his head, Katsuki got an idea. Jumping out of his seat, he aimed a tension filled finger at Aizawa-sensei. “YOU! CATERPILLAR SENSEI! I NEED ANOTHER HOMEWORK! AND YOU HAVE TO TAKE ME TO THE NEAREST FUCKING ARTS AND CRAFTS STORE RIGHT NOW!!” he yelled.

Aizawa-sensei looked mildly disturbed. “But it’s almost dark-”

“Whatever! I’ll go by my fucking self!” Katsuki said, turning around and making for the front exit. 

“Oh no you don’t-” Aizawa-sensei groused, whipping out his capture weapon and snagging Katsuki’s wrist. “Fine. Just make it a quick trip, okay? No more than half an hour,” he grumbled, extricating himself from what Katsuki believed was his sleeping bag and joining him at the door. 

Fuck yes. This was definitely gonna work!

The group of 1-A students watched as their teacher disappeared with their classmate. 

“Is...” Uraraka started, then found herself unable to continue.

“Mon dieu, is our explodo-connoisseur going to craft a glitter bomb?” Aoyama speculated, looking perplexed and slightly nauseous. “Glitter is always welcome, but when it comes to him, I worry for nos dortoirs.”

Eijirou nodded. He was just as lost as the rest of them, and he arguably spent the most time with Katsuki.

Midoriya looked like he was about to cry. Or shroud all his All Might collectables in plastic wrap.

Katsuki grinned, staring down at his creation with great pride. Tubes of red, white, and black paint lay haphazardly across his desk. Brushes of several sizes criss-crossed each other on the ripped magazine pages he’d lain out to protect the wood. Glue dripped from the tip of the bottle Ponytail had given him.

And there sat his pet rock. Before, it simply supported two plain googly eyes.

Now, between the eyes rested a large, shark toothed smile. And on top of the rock’s little head, small red painted triangles were scattered sparsely.

But Katsuki liked his finishing touch the best. There sat two little plastic red horns, little triangular pyramid shapes, shining in the light.

“There, you lil shit. Now you’re not just a plain old rock with eyes,” he said proudly. 

The rock smiled up at him.

“Now,” said Katsuki. “You can’t just be some random ass rock anymore. I’m gonna name you. You’re Eiji Rock, ya got that? Here.” Grabbing the white paint, Katsuki flipped the rock over and carefully painted the characters. “Perfect. Just gonna let that dry.”

Setting little Eiji Rock down, Katsuki flopped onto his bed with a happy sigh. “Now I can tell you all the shit I wanna tell Kirishima. S’not like you’ll go blabbing to him.” He gave the rock a small glare. “You better not, lil shit.”

He received no answer. “Hah. That’s what I thought.”

Eiji Rock became a daily companion. Katsuki occasionally brought him to class when the romantic feelings for his best friend were particularly strong. He’d let his fingers drift down into his pocket, where he could rub over the smooth red triangles, or poke himself with the tips of the horns. In combat training, Eiji Rock sat in his locker, waiting for him to wax poetic about Kirishima’s abs (his fucking abs, who the fuck told him it was legal for him to have no shirt on his hero costume?!) or the new technique he finally got the hang of. 

“You’re so fucking strong,” Katsuki mused, running his pointer finger over the edge of a horn, where Eiji Rock lay on his stomach. “You could probably bench press me, what the fuck.” A tiny blush spread across his cheeks and he scrunched up his nose. 

“I just- shit. What are you doing to me, Kirishima? I feel like I’m standing right next to the fucking sun whenever you’re around. But sometimes you’re just- quiet and soft. And I can’t do that, y’know? I’m all sharp and blasty... sometimes I feel like maybe you wouldn’t like me if you knew all the shit I’ve pulled.”

With a sigh, Katsuki spared a glance down at his companion. 

Eiji Rock’s eyes were crossed. 

“You were never like all the other extras before, like in middle school. They all followed me around ‘cause they knew I was gonna be an awesome fucking hero. But you’re actually strong on your own. I never- had that before.”

He frowned, closing his eyes. Deku was kinda like that. He always trailed after Katsuki, with a ridiculous smile. And... maybe some part of Katsuki believed that Deku might actually be stubborn enough to become a hero out of pure spite and strength of character. He’d always been a weak, shrimpy little nerd extra, but he didn’t follow after Katsuki looking for handouts.

Somewhere along the way, Katsuki must have forgotten that Deku wasn’t out for recognition or attempting to use him and look down on him. And he didn’t really think about how it must have felt to get bullied. It never happened to Katsuki, everyone was too scared of him for that.

“It’s so fuckin’ weird,” he mumbled, popping the plastic in and out of one of Eiji Rock’s eyes. “Before I met you I was smart, but I was dumb too. And I’m smarter now. How the fuck did you do that?” With a sigh, he set Eiji rock over in his little spot on the nightstand (now adorned with a small cloth). “M’goin’ t’sleep. G’night Eiji,” he murmured.

Katsuki tried. He really tried his damndest to be the best friend Kirishima wanted. He was prickly and rude sometimes, but he did little things for Kirishima and the rest of the “squad” or whatever the fuck they called themselves, and he didn’t expect anything in return. And he never said a damn word about what he felt.

But he should have known that wasn’t going to last forever. Damn it, he should have realized it was all just a stop-gap, and sooner or later everything would go to hell in a motherfucking handbasket.

Kirishima was so fucking beautiful. Just- the absolute best. Even when he was playing Mario Kart with Soy Sauce Face and Pikachu, he had that million watt smile on his face. Every once in a while, he would sneak a tiny glance at Katsuki, like when he passed someone up or won a round. With his hair down and such a carefree smile on his face, Kirishima almost seemed to glow pure happiness.

Katsuki wanted to taste it. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world as he grinned back at his best friend. “Fuck yeah!” he yelled, giving Kirishima a high five when he won.

“That was awesome!” Kirishima replied, smiling so wide that his eyes almost closed.

“Well of course it was, you did it,” Katsuki said, unintentionally leaning in and basking in the warmth of Kirishima’s presence. God it felt great to see Kirishima win.

“D’awww, thanks Bakugou! Ya know, it helped to have you looking over my shoulder,” giggled Kirishima, “you make cute faces when you’re concentrated on the screen.”

It felt good to see Kirishima win.

“Awww no fair! I wanted to win that one!”

“Kaminari bro, that was the definition of fair, it was a game.”

“I can’t win this game at all, waaah!”

“You’re so dramatic, hahaha.”

It felt like flying. It felt like Bakugou won too. It felt like... love. 

“Yo guys, I think we broke Bakugou,” Kirishima joked, poking Katsuki lightly in the shoulder. “You good, bro?”

Sero peered around Kaminari. “Whoa, he looks like a statue.”

“Or like he just discovered the meaning of life,” interjected the blond, snorting.

Katsuki felt warm all over. He felt like he was inside Kirishima’s soft glow, soaking in the warmth of his victory. He was hopelessly in love with his best friend. Every little thing coalesced until Katsuki could do nothing but stare the revelation in the face. 

“Hey,” Kirishima murmured, leaning over a little and brushing their shoulders together. Katsuki’s eyes drifted to Kirishima’s face and briefly flickered over his rosey cheeks, his gentle pink lips, the subtle peach fuzz of his jaw. He was so close, so warm and bright. Katsuki could just lean in and bring their lips together in a single moment. It scared him how much he wanted to. “Are you okay?” asked his best friend, quietly, so only Katsuki could hear.

Those beautiful crimson eyes captivated Katsuki. They were so kind, so happy. So full of light he almost couldn’t stand it. Simply being near them, discerning each little line in their irises, counting every subtle shade of red, gave Katsuki a brilliant rush that flowed through his veins like sakura petals floating on an evening breeze.

“Yeah...” he murmured, settling as their shoulders brushed together, soft and grounding. 

That night, Katsuki found himself standing at a door he never thought he’d end up at. He’d considered every other possibility, carefully thinking through every little detail of his feelings, clutching at Eiji Rock like a lifeline. 

He couldn’t go to Pikachu or Soy Sauce Face, they’d both probably crack some dumb jokes about it, and Katsuki was fucking furious and ashamed to admit, he couldn’t handle jokes right now. Not about this.

And he couldn’t go to Racoon Eyes or Icy Hot. The pink girl would probably wanna paint his nails and make a whole fucking song and dance about it, and like Katsuki needed that. Icy Hot knew even less shit about feelings than Katsuki, and that really said something.

So here he was, standing at the door of his rival, the one person he knew would take it seriously, and actually had a clue about emotions. The one person he never thought he’d talk to about something like this.

Katsuki shuffled a little, trying desperately to collect himself and stamp out all the wild impulses to run or blow stuff up or scream. He needed to do this. He couldn’t just put it off, it was there now and no matter what Katsuki did, if he didn’t confront it now, he’d never get anything done and his life would be over (no the fuck he was not being over-dramatic, he was being the perfect amount of dramatic).

His feet wiggled against the carpeting of the dorm hallway, and Katsuki finally steeled himself, lifting and hand and knocking aggressively on the door.

“Just a minute!” called the inhabitant.

“It’s me,” Katsuki grunted. “Open the fucking door, nerd.”

A loud crash, followed by a thump, and then frantic footfalls came from inside, and suddenly the door swung open to reveal a half-frantic, slightly disheveled Deku. “Is someone dying?!” he yelped. 

Katsuki scrunched up his face. “The hell? No. Just let me in, Deku.”

With wide, disbelieving eyes, Deku straightened up, quickly combed through his hair with his unscarred hand, and stepped back, motioning Katsuki in.

The explosion boy grumbled as he shuffled forward awkwardly and plopped down on the edge of Deku’s bed, fidgeting slightly. This was embarrassing, he should have just run away when he had the chance, damn it.

“Hey, Kacchan,” Deku said, closing his door and making his way over to the swivel chair at his desk, where he sat to face Katsuki. “I thought you’d already be asleep by now, it’s pretty late.”

Katsuki grunted. “Tch, I’m not an old man, Deku. A proper sleep schedule is important but I’m not gonna just collapse if I stay up a little late, asshole.”

Biting his lip, Deku squirmed in his seat, eyes darting around the room before tentatively resting on Katsuki’s slouched form. “So... um... I don’t know... can I help you, Kacchan? Did you need something?”

Ugh.

Fuck, this was hard.

“I...” Katsuki grimaced deeply, scrubbing an angry hand over his nose. “Fucking shit. Motherfucker.”

Deku just stared, waiting for Katsuki to come to him. Not helping at all, little shit.

This fucking sucked. “Agh, what the fuck! You need to help me fix this!” Katsuki yelled quietly, jabbing an accusatory finger at Deku.

The nerd looked momentarily stunned, before leaning back a little and nodding. “Okay, Kacchan, I’ll do my best to help you.”

Katsuki nodded resolutely. “Good.” 

They both sat. Deku’s All Might clock ticked by, minute after minute. Katsuki shifted on the bed, rustling the sheets softly. Deku waited quietly, occasionally closing his eyes and basking in the silence. Slowly, the tension began to dissolve, Katsuki’s shoulders started to lose some of their tightly wound muscle pronunciation. 

Okay. Deep breath. He could do this.

“I... I’m in love with Kirishima.”

Deku’s eyes snapped open, trained on the ceiling. His fingers, laced across his stomach, twitched, but he otherwise remained motionless. Probably processing.

Katsuki waited, eyes drooping and heart pounding like a war drum in his rib cage. “Say, something, fucker,” he rasped, swallowing thickly.

Deku blinked, like he was remembering how to focus his eyes. He hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward a little and bringing his gaze down to Katsuki’s face.

Katsuki looked away. Having that piercing, analyzing look on him was familiar, yet so foreign and strange.

“...I see,” Deku finally said at last. “I... honestly never expected us to have a conversation like this.”

“Yeah and we’re never gonna have it again so just shut the fuck up!” Katsuki snapped, hands turning into blasting claws for a second before he forced them flat against his thighs.

Deku flinched a tiny bit, and Katsuki felt a niggle of guilt dropping in his stomach. Damn, he didn’t mean to get so defensive. “Shit- uh... I need... god damn it I need advice, asshole. Don’t analyze me just tell me to get over my shit or something.”

“Oh...” Deku said, thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of his interlaced hand. “Do you want me to tell you to get over it? Why?”

Katsuki growled, hands curling into fists. “I-” his throat closed up for a moment and he grimaced, slowly working it open again. “Because I’m- I’m gonna be Number One and I don’t have time for this shit,” he tried to snap, but it lacked the desired harsh edge.

With a precise, calculating gaze, Deku leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees, balancing his chin on the tent of his knuckles. “That’s definitely part of it, but if that was all of it you wouldn’t be talking to me, you’d just be ignoring the problem until it went away,” Deku mused, not unkindly, simply spitballing his thoughts.

Ugh, Katsuki fretted with his discomfort. Deku was right, the fucker. He didn’t know why this was taking up so much of his concentration, plaguing his mind all the time. He didn’t know why he was having so much trouble figuring out what to do with himself now that he knew what was going on. 

“It’s...” Deku paused, eyes flickering over Katsuki before settling on an indiscernible point on his chest. “You want to love Kirishima... and be loved... just as much as you want to be Number One. Right?”

Katsuki gasped, eyes flying wide as he straightened up. Holy shit... holy shit, how the fuck did he miss that? What the hell... and somehow Deku knew before he did?

“I know you, Kacchan,” murmured Deku, offering a tiny smile. “You’ve been different lately. And I think a lot of people have noticed. They didn’t know you before UA though, and they didn’t see what you were like back then. I’m betting most of the class doesn’t know that Kirishima’s really influenced you.”

A whole host of feelings collapsed onto Katsuki like an avalanche, dipping his nervous system into ice. “Oh,” he muttered, biting his lip. He looked down, and was surprised to find that he’d clenched his hands tightly together, gripping each other like a useless lifeline connected to nothing.

Several terrible thoughts flickered through his mind, and he clamped down on his heart, every muscle straining to keep the overwhelming torrent of cold and fear at bay. He’d never wanted anything more than to be Number One, not once. And then suddenly, there Kirishima was, a human sun, encompassing Katsuki’s entire view. The explosion boy stifled a tiny noise that threatened to extricate itself from his throat.

“Oh- oh gosh, ummm...” Deku floundered, waving his hands in front of his face like a frightened mime. “Wow, I didn’t expect that. But it’s fine, right? Cause you can have both, that’s not impossible you know...” he trailed off, and Katsuki could imagine the squint that followed.

The blond dared to cast a tentative glance up at Deku, and found wise green eyes returning his gaze, full of emotion, full of realization. He could see the moment Deku analyzed the tightness of his body, taught like a harp string.

Whispering softly, Deku took Katsuki’s heart and laid it out between them. “You think you can’t have both. Because you still blame yourself for All Might’s retirement, and you think that you don’t deserve Kirishima.”

Katsuki flinched, screwing up his face muscles.

“You think you don’t deserve either?”

And with that, everything drained away. Katsuki hung his head, lungs heavy and chest burdened by a deep, unyielding weight.

“Kacchan,” murmured Deku, voice cracking over his childhood friend’s name. “Kacchan... I’m so sorry... I can’t believe I didn’t realize this was still bothering you.”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki whispered.

Deku nodded, chewing his lip. God, what a bastard. An icy sort of fear clawed at Katsuki’s chest, the insecure worry that maybe Deku would try and take advantage of him in such a vulnerable state. He hunched his shoulders, as if to curl up and protect himself from an incoming attack. 

Seeing this must have had some sort of effect on the nerd, because he almost immediately leaned back and let out a soft, gentle sigh. “Just, give me a moment, okay? I’m gonna collect my thoughts and then give you advice about what to do.”

Katsuki nodded and waited. 

Deku fidgeted, mumbling under his breath and staring at the ceiling again. Katsuki only caught tiny word fragments, too indiscernible to try and decipher what the greenette was thinking, so he let go and tried to still himself. His hands were trembling... that hadn’t happened in a long time. 

Finally, after what felt like eons, Deku blinked, falling back into himself, and bringing his eyes down to reconnect with Katsuki. “Sorry that took a bit. I was just trying to figure out how to put this.” Taking a deep, calming breath, Deku focused himself. 

A tiny increment of tension bled from Katsuki’s form, mirroring his companion’s relaxed state. He was ready for a solution. He wanted to leave and not think about this anymore.

“Kacchan... I think you’re wrong,” said Deku.

Katsuki jerked, making eye contact and freezing when he found intense determination there.

“You do deserve to be at the top, I know it. And you deserve to be happy, and loved.” Deku never broke the connection between their eyes. “You think you don’t deserve any of that, but you’re wrong, and I know it because I know you. You’re strong, and smart, and you have so much passion. You don’t do anything halfway, and I know when it comes to Kirishima you’ve probably gone more than all the way with your love.

“Don’t hold yourself back now, of all times, Kacchan,” Deku urged. “That’s not like you.”

“What if I mess it up,” Katsuki whispered, pressing a blunt nail against the pad of his thumb.

“You won’t,” replied Deku with no hesitation. “You won’t. Because he makes you a better person. And a better hero.”

...Oh.

Katsuki’s entire world shifted into place. He felt his mind clear. The fear died away quicker than it had come, and Katsuki felt like he could breathe again, lighter than before. It all made so much sense now, and it felt... fucking amazing.  

“I- whoa. I mean, uh... fucking thanks or whatever, nerd,” he croaked. “Thanks, Izuku.”

Deku inhaled sharply, hands freezing in place.

Before Deku had a chance to properly freak out, Katsuki abruptly stood up. “I’m gonna... gonna go now. Bye.” He crossed Deku’s room in five quick strides, and flung open the door.

“W-wait, Kacchan!”

“What, nerd?”

“I-I um...” Deku stood up and came to stand in front of Katsuki. “I just. Thank you.”

Warmth tickled the tips of Katsuki’s ears. “Yeah... yeah whatever.”

“N-now go,” Deku choked, eyes glistening brighter than a thousand fireflies. “Go tell him. Right now.”

Katsuki nodded robotically. “Wait- are you fucking crying-”

“Just go, Kacchan,” Deku laughed wetly, pushing Katsuki roughly out of his room and swiping quickly at his eyes as he pressed his door closed.

Katsuki shook his head with a soft, “tch.”

And immediately made his way to Kirishima’s room as fast as possible.

Eijirou was feeling relaxed this evening. Mario Kart with Kaminari and Sero was so fun! Eijirou felt like he was humming with energy the whole time, especially with Bakugou’s shoulder brushing against his.

Bakugou tended to stay away from physical touch, Eijirou noticed. He never reciprocated hugs, and rarely ever initiated any sort of contact, but apart from occasionally shrugging off the overly friendly hug fest from Kaminari, he didn’t seem to hate it either. The brush of their shoulders or a light touch of hands seemed to quell some of the unholy rage when necessary.

At first, when Eijirou noticed this, he did his best to give Bakugou the physical space he needed, and applied touches sparsely, when the situation required, to keep the guy from going nuclear.

Something changed after Kamino, however. Bakugou still never initiated contact with anyone, but Eijirou found himself leaning shoulder to shoulder or bumping knees at lunch every now and again. Maybe it was Eijirou who needed settling now, to know Bakugou was really solid and there, not dead on the battlefield like Eijirou’s mind convinced him in the depths of the night, when dreams brought a unique kind of pain.

It was like the distance between them was erased by that blast, when Bakugou soared through the sky and gripped Eijirou’s hand tightly, palm to blisteringly hot palm. Suddenly the boundary between touching for a purpose and touching for comfort blurred. And it was... nice. It was really nice.

Eijirou’s heart ached a little. He wanted so much more... he knew that a long time ago. He remembered thinking that even at the sports festival, as crimson eyes blasted right into his soul and fiery palms stung his hardened skin. 

But he knew Bakugou wasn’t ready then. He was still so full of anger, uncontrollable and harsh anger that would have lashed out at Eijirou if they entered a relationship together. And there was a lot Eijirou could take, but that was something he wasn’t willing to compromise on. Besides, he himself wasn’t ready either... there was too much insecurity simmering under his skin back then, and he probably would have ended up sabotaging their relationship early on.

Now here they were, months later, Bakugou’s unruly temper dimmed, and Eijirou’s heart stronger. Yet still, the redhead couldn’t work up the nerve to say anything about his feelings. It had been so long... if Bakugou didn’t want him like that, it would probably break Eijirou’s heart. He needed their friendship like he needed air... he needed to know that Bakugou was there by his side and he was alive.

Ugh, this homework was not getting done. Sighing for the millionth time that night, Eijirou flopped down across his desk and tried not to drool over a math problem. He was so bad at doing this without a motivator wacking his head and keeping his thoughts focused on math, not... Bakugou. 

“Gah! I’m a disaster without him,” Eijirou moaned softly. This homework was a total lost cause tonight.

As if summoning the loud blond that had plagued his mind, an emphatic banging began to rattle Eijirou’s door. He yelped in surprise, jerking up and nearly falling out of his chair.

“Hey Shitty Hair! Let me the fuck in!” growled a familiar voice. 

Crap, Eijirou had his hair down, his bed sheets were all messed up, there were random shirts strewn across the floor, oh god Bakugou was gonna think he was a slob! “Hold on a sec!” Eijirou called hastily, scrambling out of his chair and throwing his shirts in his closet. He quickly pulled the sheets into a half decent state and- well. There was nothing he could do with his hair now, but it wasn’t like Bakugou had never seen it in its natural state.

The banging started up again, a little louder this time. 

“Coming, coming!” said Eijirou. He rushed to the door, paused to let a cheerful smile spread across his face, and pulled it open. 

Bakugou actually looked surprised, and he nearly punched Eijirou in the face when there was no longer a door to hit. Then he looked angry. And maybe a little... nervous? Eijirou almost couldn’t tell, since he rarely ever saw his explosion-prone best friend with that expression.

Working quickly to ease Bakugou’s nerves, Eijirou chirped, “Bakugou, hey! I thought you were asleep!” 

“I wasn’t!” Bakugou shot back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Tension dipped out of his shoulders, just a little bit, and he motioned past Eijirou with his elbow. “Well? You gonna fucking let me in, Shitty Hair?”

This was... so weird. What exactly was Bakugou doing, barging into Eijirou’s room when he’d usually be in bed? “Oh, yeah, of course, dude! Come on in,” Eijirou replied good-naturedly, sporting a lazy grin. “Make yourself comfortable.”  

His mind whirled. Bakugou looked stiff as a board, and angry as hell, but not the type of anger intended to hurt. It was a thick, very intensional mask of anger, hiding all the other emotions inside him. Eijirou was used to parsing through whatever concealment Bakugou sported, he would even say he was good at it, but tonight he couldn’t, Bakugou’s defense was so iron-clad. It scared Eijirou a little... he worried for his friend.

Katsuki shuffled past Eijirou and stood next to the bed. He was still for a moment, facing away from Eijirou, before he turned and made eye contact. The fiery intensity in those eyes was enthralling and exhilarating.

“Sit down!” Bakugou half yelled, glaring at Eijirou and pointing to the bed.

What the hell.

“Uh... okay?” Eijirou let his door close and quickly sat down on the bed, wiggling into a comfortable position and looking up at Bakugou. The blond still looked incredibly rage-filled, like an explosion trapped behind glass, but now Eijirou could see the smallest of cracks, the way Bakugou’s eyes briefly darted through the room, having trouble focusing on Eijirou’s face.

“Hey dude,” the redhead said gently, “you okay? ‘Cause you look a little-”

“Shut it!” Bakugou snapped, scowling. “I’m trying to- just shut up for a second!” 

“Okay.” Eijirou nodded, and took a deep breath. If Bakugou needed quiet, he could do that. Allowing his tense muscles to relax, and a soft sigh to escape his lips, Eijirou calmed himself and waited. Bakugou would come to him, with time.

Sure enough, Bakugou’s fingers flexed for several seconds, and he sat on the bed next to Eijirou, shifting and glaring, like he was daring the redhead to say anything else.

Eijirou didn’t, simply looking back at Bakugou patiently.

“I-” Bakugou growled, biting his lip and furrowing his deep, angry eyebrows. “You just... what the hell, I don’t know how the fuck to do this.” Taking a deep breath, the blond reached over and grabbed Eijirou’s hand tightly.

A surge of warmth flowed through Eijirou’s body, and he inhaled sharply, blinking wide, surprised eyes. Bakugou’s palm was so hot, pressing into his. They were sitting together, but Eijirou swore he felt like flying. 

Somehow, Bakugou looked to be in a similar state, chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted a hundred meters. The anger melted off his face, revealing incandescent passion.

“I never wanted anything as much as being Number One,” Bakugou declared loudly. “As long as I remember, I’ve always been working to get there, damn it. And I’m never gonna stop, ya hear me?!”

Eijirou laughed breathily. It’d been a while since he heard one of Bakugou’s declarations. “Yeah, I hear you, dude,” he replied, a ridiculous grin on his face.

Bakugou blinked, eyes flickering across Eijirou’s features. He looked genuinely caught off guard, still breathing hard. “I... how the fuck do you do that?” he cried.

“Do what?” Eijiro replied, furrowing his brows.

Bakugou flailed, his free hand gesturing wildly at all of Eijirou. “That! You just- you fucking smile and you look like the damn sun! Friggin bright ass fireball in the sky! And my heart starts jumping around in my chest! You just do that to me, what the fuck?!”

Eijirou sucked in a breath and nearly choked on it. Did- did Bakugou really just say that? “Ahaha, um,” Eijirou laughed nervously. “I don’t understand?” Anxiety froze in his chest, and he desperately willed away a wave of insecurity. 

Now was not the time to overthink Bakugou’s words. Maybe Eijirou’s smile made him angry. Or maybe he was just toying with Eijirou- no he wouldn’t do that, not Bakugou. Oh god, what if Bakugou liked him back? Agh, Eijirou couldn’t get his hopes up, he couldn’t mess this up-

Unaware of Eijirou’s internal typhoid of emotions, Bakugou squeezed his hand and looked at him with purpose. “I’ll make you understand. You’ve been on my mind for so long- it’s fucking ridiculous how much you’re just there, and I can’t get rid of you-”

Eijirou gripped Bakugou’s hand tightly, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth.

“-but maybe I don’t want to!” Bakugou declared.

“Wh-what?” Eijirou stuttered. What??

“You!” Bakugou half yelled, shaking Eijirou’s hand back and forth. “I want you too! We’ll be the best! We’ll be Number One, ya got that?!”

Eijirou’s head spun. This wasn’t really happening, was it? This was a dream, right? Eijirou didn’t want to wake up. “I... I don’t understand,” he repeated breathlessly. “Bakugou what are you saying?”

Bakugou snapped out of whatever loud trance he’d put himself in to force the words out, squinting at Eijirou for a second before realization spread across his face. He smiled triumphantly, leaning close to the redhead and holding his hand tightly. 

“I love you, Kirishima. I fucking love you, and I think you love me too.”

Oh.

Oh whoa...

Eijirou giggled. “Oh my- oh wow,” he laughed, leaning over and bracing his hand on Bakugou’s chest. He felt light as a feather, the strength completely leaving his limbs. 

Bakugou loved him.

Bakugou loved him.

“Bakugou oh my god- yes yes you’re right, you’re always right,” Eijirou breathed, smiling so widely his cheeks hurt.

Bakugou grinned, leaning in and pushing against Eijirou’s weak hand. “Fuck yes I am-” he replied breathily. “Thank fuck. I think I just lost ten years of my life trying to get through that.”

“Oh my god!” Eijirou laughed, pressing his forehead against his best friend’s. “Oh my god, oh my god-” Bakugou loved him, he really did.  

“What the- are you wiggling?” said Bakugou incredulously, his free hand drifting to cup Eijirou’s waist.

Wow, he hadn’t even noticed. “Shut up, I’m happy!” replied the redhead, pink rising in his cheeks. He was made of butterflies, not just in his chest but everywhere, and he was flying on exhilaration. This was real! This was really real. 

Eijirou couldn’t help himself. Before his brain could catch up with him, he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Bakugou’s cheek.

Bakugou short circuited, eyes completely blown wide with surprise. Eijirou had the pleasure of discovering in that very moment that Bakugou was a full body blusher, watching as the brilliant red warmth trailed up Katsuki’s shoulders and neck, dusting across his cheeks and settling in the tips of his ears.

“Oh fuck no,” Bakugou murmured, hot breath skimming across Eijirou’s lips. “C’mere and do it properly-” he said, crashing their lips together before he could even finish his sentence.

Waves of warmth poured from Eijirou’s heart with every beat, his eyes slipped closed, and his body collapsed onto Bakugou’s, held up by the hand that had moved to cradle his lower back. 

There was no way this was a dream. Bakugou’s warm, surprisingly soft lips felt too incredible for Eijirou to have imagined them. Nothing had ever taken Eijirou’s breath with such passion and brilliance as this single kiss. If Eijirou could glow, he’d be shining for Bakugou, his star, lighting up the sky brighter than any firework.

It felt like they spent eternity together in that moment, lips pressing together, tongues exploring each other, trying not to get in the way of Eijirou’s sharp teeth. When Bakugou finally pulled away, Eijirou nearly followed him, breathing a blissful sigh and leaning over to lie his head on Bakugou’s shoulder.

The explosion boy snickered. “The hell, you know I’m not a pillow, right?”

“Yeah...” Eijirou replied dumbly. “I think you need to hold me up, you just exploded my soul.”

With a hearty laugh, vibrating deep in his chest, Bakugou pulled their linked hands closer and scooted forward, “Yeah okay, lazy ass,” he said without bite, gently shifting Eijirou onto his lap. He was so warm and solid, chest pressed all the way up Eijirou’s side. 

The redhead couldn’t help his love-drunk grin. “You loooove meeee,” he teased, wiggling as happiness flowed through him.

Bakugou looked down at the boy lying on his shoulder like he was the whole world. “Damn right I do.”

“We’re gonna be Number One, huh?”

“Duh, obviously, Shitty Hair. We’re gonna be awesome, better than all those extras.”

“You could say... I’m the light of your life.”

“Ugh, oh my god you’re so sappy,” Bakugou groaned, holding Eijirou close. “You are though. Can’t believe I survived without this for so long.”

“How’d you deal with it?” Eijirou asked, smiling gently. 

His grin widened when Bakugou blushed again, looking away with a bashful pout. “...Promise you won’t laugh,” he muttered. Eijirou nodded very seriously.

Bakugou shifted a little, clearly nervous, and pulled his hand away from Eijirou’s to fish through his pocket. Brows furrowing, Eijirou watched as the blond pulled something small from his pocket and pressed it into Eijirou’s palm.

There sat a smooth, warm little gray stone, adorned with tiny painted red triangles, two red horns, a pair of googly eyes, and a toothy grin.

On the bottom, in white, were the characters for Eiji Rock.

Eijirou gasped, eyes prickling as his heart filled up with love. “Oh my god this is so cute,” he said, holding the rock closer to his face to see it properly. “Wait, what did you do, did you kiss it?”

“Wh- WHAT! No dumbass!!” Bakugou yelped, scowling. “I just... talked to him. At first he was just eyes, and I used him to... talk about you and stuff. It was easier to just get out all my thoughts without worrying that someone was gonna go tell you or whatever. And then I painted him and gave him little horns and named him. Talked to him like he was you... and said the stuff I couldn’t say.”

So... so cute. Eijirou giggled, sniffling and sitting up to pepper kisses across Bakugou’s face. 

“Hey, what the- hey asshole! The hell!” Bakugou griped, scrunching up his nose. 

“Bakugou.... Katsuki, he's so cute, I love him!” said Eijirou, beaming. 

Katsuki sagged, a relieved smile spreading across his face. So cute. Adorable. Eijirou got to hold an adorable explosion boy in his arms. And kiss him. It was really real, Katsuki was real, and he was here to stay.

“You know what?” said the redhead, nuzzling into Katsuki’s arms.

“Yeah?” Katsuki grunted.

“I think Eiji Rock needs a companion,” Eijirou declared. “He’d be lonely without a Katsuki Rock to keep him company, y’know?”

Katsuki blinked slowly, rosey eyes soft and contemplative. “Mmm,” he agreed, nodding. 

Eijirou was so, so lucky.

No one could ever figure out just how Red Riot and Ground Zero got together. It seemed they’d already been a couple for a long time when they both debuted as official pro heroes. The media asked all the time, during interviews and on the red carpet, but the couple always smiled (or in Ground Zero’s case, grinned like he was about to blast a villain in the face) and skillfully sidestepped the question with a sappy reply about how “it was always true love” or “this motherfucker is badass, so of course I chose him.”

But to those who knew Eijirou and Katsuki, it was an unspoken understanding.

Anyone who visited their home saw the small side table in the living room, padded with a soft cloth, upon which rested a smooth little gray rock with red horns and a toothy smile, and an angry looking sandy colored stone, adorned with red googly eyes and fluffy blond spikes.