Work Text:
Bakugou is up at the ass crack of fucking dawn. Sunlight filters yellow through his bedroom windows, reminding him of the shit-load of crap he had to get done and the uncontrollable urge to scream into his pillow. Throwing the blanket haphazardly over the mattress is his half-asleep attempt of making it, rubbing at his bleary eyes to rid them of sleep as he staggered to the bathroom.
He pushes the door open only to get screamed at with too much volume for five-thirty in the morning.
“Dammit, Katsuki, can’t you see the fuckin’ door's closed?” Mitsuki yells while still applying her cherry red lipstick, slamming it closed right in his face. Fucking bitch.
He curses under his breath and leans against the wall, massaging his temples. After a couple of moments he bangs on the door. Patience didn’t exactly run freely in his family. “Hurry up, I gotta take a piss!”
“Go the fuck outside, I’m busy in here!”
Bakugou fights against the urge to rip all his hair out. Whatever.
He trudges back to his room, picking a pair of trunks off of the floor. He strips of his briefs, pulling the sunset-themed trunks over his tan thighs. He already feels sticky, the July heat seeping through the walls and melting his sanity like child's putty.
Out the back, the sun’s barely risen over the horizon. Gentle waves crash against the shoreline, it didn’t look as though he’d get any good surfing in for now, but being in the ocean always beats dying of heatstroke with his bipolar hag of a mother inside.
Bakugou leans over to pick up his board. Perks of living on the beach side, you could go out however, whenever you wanted. It was freeing, being out here. The only piece of relative sanity he even had left. He wanted to get some chill time before Pinky or Dunce Face came to disturb him.
Bakugou squeezed the cyan colored surfboard under his arm, waking into the water until he was knee deep. He dropped it in, laying down stomach first and paddled out. Once his house was just a small spec in the distance he let himself take a break, flipping over on his board and to stare up at the sky.
The grey was actively fading out, instead being taken over by hues of pinky oranges and yellows. In silence, he let himself enjoy it. The sunrise, the distant calling of the gulls, the gentle rocking of the waves, the seabreeze tickling in between his toes.
Bakugou takes a deep breath in and flips over the board into the navy depths of the sea. The sting of salt-water in grounding. When he swims up to take a breather, a hand pushes his head back under. His eyes blow open, feet kicking against the water and flails his arms. Faintly, he can see the outlines of bodies. When he finally grabs his board and ascends over the waterline, water draining out of his ears he can register people laughing. His eyes narrow on a familiar tan face with electric blonde hair. He narrows his eyes and catches his breath.
“You fucker, I’ll kill you.” Bakugou splashes a Kat-special and serves it straight to Kaminari’s cackling face, which only seems to make him laugh harder. Beside him, Mina sits criss-cross on her own bright pink board.
“You kinda deserved that, Kam,” She says, leaning back to glare above the line of her sunglasses.
“Guilty,” Kaminari sing-songs, wiping the saltwater from his eyes. “So, you’re up early, as usual.”
“Got shit to do.” Bakugou grunts, getting back up and onto his own board. The chain hanging loose around his neck clinks with the motion.
“Shit, as in lazing around the beach? Wow, so busy.” Kaminari punches his shoulder a little too hard as he teases. What a little shit.
“I’ve got work in,” Bakugou pauses, checks the watch that isn’t around his wrist. “Soon.” He says.
“Yep,” Mina sighs, pink painted fingertips tracing the dolphin tattoo on her thigh absently, “We all do. When’re we getting those vacation days, again?”
“How about never?” Kaminari snips, huffing a breath.
“Ugh,” Mina sighs.
Bakugou lies back down, pillowing his head with his arms. As the sun rose, so did the heat. It’s already humid, burning him up through the inside out. Summertime is brutal. For more then one reason.
“Boss is already on our asses, with tourist season and all. Gotta be on time everyday, else we’re getting fuckin’ fired, can you believe that? And after all we’ve done for the lazy bastard.” Kaminari kicks his feet in the water, cause he always has to be doing something or else he’ll buzz out.
“Tell me about it.” Mina whines, stretching out her toes.
Bakugou listens with vague interest, not entirely present as he eyes the distance. All this talk about work and all he wanted to do was relax.
“Can you guys just shut up for like one minute?” He snaps, rolling his eyes. When they both fall silent, it becomes awkward and he knows he has to fix it. "Killin’ my mood over here.”
“Hm, you know what’d fix my mood?” Kaminari asks, and by the upward twitch of his eyebrows Bakugou doesn’t think he’d like to hear this. He just cocks his head, so Kaminari continues.
“‘S your mom home? Cause-”
“If you finish that sentence I’ll kill you, Dunce Face.”
“Cause, I’d love some of her waffles.” Kaminari finishes with a smirk as if that wasn’t at all what he was going to initially say.
Mina gasps, like that was the brightest revelation of her week. “Yes! I remember as kids, her waffles were the best.”
“Yeah?” Bakugou snorts, looking up at the clouds, “Prolly ‘cause she laced ‘em with molly.”
Mina and Kaminari share a look before breaking out into laughter.
Kaminari steals her sunglasses and hides his eyes from the newfound sun. “Probably.”
Mina whines, kicking the otherwise calm water. “Gosh, Kam, now I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.” Bakugou smirks, muttering, “Fuckin’ whale.”
Mina gasps and kicks at his shoulder with enough force to push him into the water. When he ascends he grips onto her thin ankle. “Oh, you are dead, Pinky.”
Bakugou ends up making them breakfast because he’s a fuckin’ saint thank you very fuckin’ much. They must have fucked around for a long time because it’s almost seven by the time they get into the van. Kaminari wasn’t joking about the ‘no tardy’ policy, and Bakugou really didn’t feel like getting laid off right now. (Not like Bakugou was ever late, anyways.)
The old Volkswagen engine sputtered as he tried to start it, and it gave two hard jerks before finally giving in. Bakugou could tell the words ‘crap’ and ‘piece of shit’ would circle around his friends’ heads while being in the same car as Bakugou, and he actually had a policy of his own about this. You complain, you walk. It’s pretty simple.
But, Bakugou never says anything about it and they don’t ask.
After Mina and Kaminari fist fought for who got rights to shotgun they finally set off to the resort, with Kaminari in the passenger seat and Mina squished in between them. Her breath smelled like bubblegum against his cheek. Things were never completely silent with them around, but as the radio got turned on beyond Mina’s quiet singing the only sounds were the wind breezing through the open windows and the road beneath their feet.
Palm trees lined the streets here, on the good side of town. The grass was greener here-- like, literally. Bakugou enjoyed spitting flem balls on these geezers’ fake grass.
Buildings stood proud and modern, a bike path on every corner and a golf course in every available clearing. It made him feel a little bit sick. But, to top it all of, at the corner of fucking Silversands Ave. was a grand building, with others surrounding it. Cars were packed in the parking lots, golf carts and yachts lining the docks. Welcome to the grand tourist attraction, working nest of surprise! yours truly.
Bakugou’s peeling cruddy van didn’t exactly fit in. That was, until he parked in employee parking. He saw some old red pickup and a shitty beige Toyota Camry that looked like it had but a few days left in it and thought, that’s better.
“Alright, bitches, let’s rock n roll!” Kaminari hops out of the van, pacing towards the ‘employees only’ door. Bakugou gives the bobble head on his dash a little shove before leaving and locking up. He can see Mina smiling fondly at him, which he chooses to ignore.
Bakugou walks into the familiar kitchen with his resting scowl. He goes to the backroom to check in, writing his name and when he arrived, on the board up on the wall. His apron hung up against the wall on a little brass hook that had a little sticky saying Katsuki in faded Sharpy. He loops it over his head and ties it behind his back, falling into the familiar rhythm of work. This is where they all disperse. They work in the same resort, but it’s a big fucking one and they all have different jobs. Mina’s house cleaning, and Kaminari shouldn’t be trusted anywhere near a kitchen. He deals with the smoothie bar and pool-side snacks.
Bakugou likes this time he has to himself. Of course he loves his friends (not that he’d ever say those words aloud, but they know it all the same), but sometimes they could be a little much. Bakugou’s needed their own space. Mitsuki had proved that when she drove his dad out of the house. She’s probably why he’s twenty five and has never had a real relationship. Despite what he and Deku had.. but that was a long time ago, now. Like mother, like son.
Bakugou heads over to the sinks to clean his hands. There aren’t very many people here. In the back there’s a dish washing station, a place he’d graduated from years ago. A coworker worked there now, scrubbing plates until his hands were raw and his fingerprints were pruny. Beyond that is the kitchen itself, where two to three cooks worked for room service, the restaurant and the breakfast bar. It was busy at rush hour times like breakfast, lunch and dinner. Especially during the summertime, with the influx of tourists trying to make the most out of the town’s beaches and sweltering summer weather.
Bakugou was proud to say he was co-head chef, along with his coworker Uraraka. He didn’t mind her much. She always had too much blush caked on her cheeks and talked about her pets but other than that she was chill.
“Good morning, Bakugou-kun! How’re you today?” She asks, separating egg whites from the yolks in massive bowls.
He grunts in response, dancing around other extras working alongside him as he starts to dice up fresh fruit for entrees and sides. Her voice was too cheery for working in rush hour on a Thursday morning.
“Today’s even more busy than usual,” Uraraka says, pouring the eggs into a large pan to mass fry them. “A whole fraternity and their plus ones bought out a floor for the summer.. Can you believe that? Ugh, too many college boys in the same place, we have our work cut out for us.” She takes her eyes off the food as she speaks to him, and as if on cue, Aizawa trudges in with a disappointed glare.
“Back to work, Occacho. No slacking off, Katsuki”
Bakugou rolls his eyes and Uraraka sputters out apologies and looks back to the stove.
Aizawa eyes more of the kitchen, just dying to reprimand them about something before readjusting his sleeping mask and leaving the room so forcefully the swinging doors creak on their hinges.
“Man, he’s on edge today.” Someone in the room teases.
Bakugou snorts. “When is the boss not on edge?”
Uraraka whistles before chuckling. “Word.” She says.
Time feels relative when Bakugou falls into the familiar head space. Cooking is one of the things he considers a hobby, other than surfing. It was something his dad taught him, something Mitsuki was shit at. That was probably why he liked it so much. The smell of grilling meat and sweet fruits cascaded his senses and made his stomach grumble. Good thing about working in cooking, he could eat the leftovers on his breaks. Free food, he’d milk that any day.
Soon, a waiter bursts through the door with a thick stack of paper, sticking them up one by one on the line. Bakugou looks up to them, finding his eyes widening at the amount of food these people ordered all at once. He’d have to bust his ass to get this order out.
“Courtesy of those frat boys,” Uraraka sighs, getting started on the order. Today would be a long ass day.
/
By the time Bakugou’s shift was over his feet were aching, sweat caked on the back of his neck and stained the pits of his tee. He wrapped some extra food in tin foil to bring for Mitsuki, because he hated her but she was still his mother, and trudged back to the van. He traced a finger against the peeling paint and smiled fondly at the carvings. M.B.
He got startled back to earth by a cold feeling against the back of his neck. Kaminari had a smoothie in an outstretched arm, a smile in offering. Bakugou took it with a nod and unlocked the van.
Bakugou had to suck especially hard because the consistency of the smoothie was too thick for the too thin straw, and his eyebrows screwed in mild irritation. It was too hot in the van and Mina was taking forever. After a shift of grinding to get those stupid frat boys’ orders out all he really wanted to do was go home.
“Is Mina coming, or what?” Bakugou grumbles, reclining his seat to get more comfortable.
Kaminari didn’t look any better than he did. Equipped with only a hand fan powered by little batteries as he worked outside in the sun all day, it was pure luck he was even alive and not in a melted puddle of Denki on the concrete.
“I dunno. She’s takin’ forever, though.”
Bakugou averts his gaze to stare at the bobble heads, and only looks back out the windshield when he hears Kaminari whistle.
He raises a brow when he sees Mina, getting real close to some silver haired shirtless douche looking guy.
“Ah, look, Mina’s got herself another victim.” Bakugou says with a little shit-eating grin.
Kaminari laughs, “Should we warn him?”
“Nah, let the poor bastard learn through trial and error.”
“Man,” Kaminari says, tracing the glow in the dark stars stuck on the roof with his finger, “Mina’s such a player, I’m actually jealous, I haven’t gotten laid in for-fuckin’-ever.”
“Ugh, I really don’t want to hear about your blue balls, thank you very much.”
“And, what about you, Kat? Haven’t seen you bring anyone home these days,” Kaminari bumps his shoulders suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like the shithead he is. Bakugou looks at him with a horrified expression. Truthfully, that part of his life disappeared when Deku did. He doesn’t say this to Kaminari.
“Shut your trap.” He says instead. He looks back up to Mina and Douche and chooses not to focus on his hand placement. Then, she’s turning around and running to the van.
“It’s about fucking time.” Bakugou says, turning on the ignition and pulling away the second Mina sits down.
“Care to tell us who that was?” Kaminari asks, raising a brow.
Mina goes pink. “Oh, just someone I met. A frat boy, from the city.”
Bakugou jerks the car, swerving past an angry geriatric fuck. Kaminari’s head smacks against the window. “Ow- what the hell, dude?”
“A frat boy as in one of the frat boys?” Bakugou ignores Kaminari in favor of interrogating the increasingly pinking Mina Ashido in the backseat.
“Uh, yes.. Why?”
“Oh no. No, no. You know what a pain in the ass those jackwads were today? It’s like they each ordered three meals and all at the same time for crying out loud. I had to work during my break!” Bakugou snarls, but he thinks, distantly, it may look more like a pout.
“Well, he’s hot so-”
Bakugou drowns her out with the pop shit that played on the mainstream channels. He drops them both off at their respective houses before finally getting back to his own. Bakugou kicks off his slippers, shoving the food into the empty looking fridge and makes a mental reminder to go grocery shopping when his next paycheck comes in. Checking his schedule, that should be the day after tomorrow.
There’s no sign of Mitsuki around so Bakugou can relax without the fear of being yelled at. He takes a can of Pepsi from the fridge and kicks his feet onto the coffee table, flicking on the CRT television. The visuals are dented with static, and he turns on a random news channel. He takes a sip and gets comfortable.
Bakugou must have fallen asleep, because he wakes up to a flip flop to the face.
Mistsuki is puttering around the living area in her work clothes, if you can even call them that, the loud whirring of the microwave filling the room.
“Up and at em, Katsuki. We need groceries.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it.” Bakugou grunts, rolling his eyes behind closed lids. Sitting on his tongue, a petulant why can’t you? He flexes his toes, yawning straight from his core. The muffled voices on the news fading into the background along with the whistling of the wind outside.
“I’m serious, brat, there’s no food in here.” Mitsuki says, with a too loud tone for his relaxed state.
“I brought you food, you’ll be fucking fine, hag.” Bakugou snarls, falling into the familiar rhythm of half-hearted aggression they’ve created ever since dad left.
“Don’t talk back to me, kid. I’m your mother, not one of your friends.”
Bakugou grinds his teeth and tries not to scream. After a beat, he stands. “I need money,” He says, matter-of-factly, holding out an open palm.
Mitsuki raises a brow at him. “Can’t you pay for yourself? Or are you lying about that job you go to everyday?”
Bakugou scoffs, barely stopping himself from laughing at her ignorance. He busts his ass day in day out for a mom who doesn’t even like him, and for what? Really, for what? “Payday’s in two days.” Bakugou says instead, “If you want some fucking food just fucking spot me.”
Mitsuki digs in her pocket, pulling out crumpled bills and change. “This should get somethin’, get milk, eggs, necessities. Not that fuckin' junk you buy.”
Bakugou stuffs the money in his beach shorts and turns on his heel. He checks his reflection in the little mirror hanging in the doorway, and shrugs, fitting a baseball cap over his messy hair. He shoves his feet into slides, leaving the crappy house with a slam of the screen door.
It’s a quick trip to the local grocery from his house, five by car and ten by foot. Since he’ll have to hold bags he takes the van. It’s low on gas.
With a jerky start Bakugou pulls out of residence, starting down the street. Houses around here were all falling apart. Either from age, or demolition. They’re trying to drive out locals to make this spot commercial, building a set of condos just across the street. It would be a cold day in hell before he gets his home taken away from him.
Al’s grocery and co is just as shitty as everything else around here. Yellowing lights flicker overhead, heat bleeding through the walls. He beelines for the refrigerators and pulls out some milk. He’d have to make some sacrifices here. He rests a box of Twinkies under his arm, pulling out a carton of eggs and some Kraft dinner. The store was empty, save for the bigger Spanish man that stood behind the counter. He had a thick cigar between his fingers.
“Big Al,” Bakugou greets, resting the groceries on the counter. He digs in his pocket, probably just over twenty dollars, “What can you do for me?”
“Oi, Katsuki, always great to see that scowling face of yours.” Al laughs, taking the change between his fat fingers. “Eh, put back the Twinkies and we have a deal.”
“Awe, come on, Al. Not the Twinkies. Please, I’m starving.”
Al considers this. He scratches at his scruffy chin, blowing thick white smoke out of his thin lips. “Tell you what, some damn frat fuckers egged the back windows. Clean it up and I’ll forget about the Twinkies.” Al throws him a dirty rag, to which he catches with ease.
“You’re a real one, Al.” Bakugou says, going out the back to scrub at the windows. Al wasn’t joking. The entire three long window pains were covered in bloody yoke and splintered egg shells. Those fucking frat boys, Jesus. They really were a royal pain in his ass.
When he was done Al had everything bagged and ready to go. “Good as new.” Bakugou says, dropping the rag in the trash can. Al is clipping another cigar.
“Always good to see you, Kat. How’s the old lady?”
“Just as shit as usual.” Bakugou takes the bag, hiking it over his wrist. “Not into your fat ass, as usual.” He adds under his breath.
“Brat,” Al tch’s, waves him off as he leaves.
/
The resort is big, so if one station needed more supervision than another one, employees would be moved. Bakugou worked in the kitchen, that's what he signed up for, that’s what he does. But, Aizawa’s bitchy head ass has him stationed as a delivery guy. He wasn’t ready for all the social interaction this particular job would warrant him.
Right now, he has a big order to deliver for room service. It’s lunch time, and who even eats lunch like this? They have a full on hamburger, fries, milkshake and corn dog. That seems a little bit excessive for a couple hours after breakfast.
Bakugou has everything in platinum trays, resting on a rolly table. He’s going pretty high up in the resort, to the VIP section. The slip says room 608.
Bakugou checks twice to make sure the room is right, and knocks on the door. “Room service.” He calls, knocking again when the person(s) staying here doesn’t answer. He looks for the name. “Mr. Kirisima? You in here? Room service!” He knocks again.
From inside the room he hears something clatter, and then a muted thump. After a couple moments of silence, someone answers the door. The first thing he notices is striking red hair. It’s wet, seeps down his neck and cascades down his shoulders. His bare shoulders. As a matter of fact, the man is completely naked, save for a towel wrapped around his waist. Bakugou doesn’t pay attention to his defined vline.
“Oh, sorry, man. I was just in the shower.” The redhead steps aside and Bakugou rolls the food in. The room wasn’t how the maids left it when they cleaned last night. Throw pillows littered the floors, empty plastic water bottles covered every see able surface. How much water did this guy drink?
Bakugou heads to the table and places the dishes on the blank areas.
“Sorry for the mess.” Kirishima says, bashful.
“Cleaning will come from 11:00 to 2:00. Just leave the ‘do not disturb’ sign off of the door and they’ll deal with it.” Bakugou says, sticking a straw into the milkshake. “Is this everything you ordered?”
The redhead ties his long hair into a bun as he scans the plates. “That should be it, thanks!”
Bakugou looks at him for the second time and feels the world momentarily stop rotating on its axis. He hasn’t done relationships since Deku, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t done anything. And, my oh my, this man was exactly his type. Bakugou quickly looks away, wiping his moist hands on his apron. “Alright then,” He says, feeling flushed and awkward, “Enjoy.” And he’s out the door.
/
On nights like these, it seemed like the lines of separation between the people of this place faded a little bit. The sun has long since fallen over the horizon, and with it a couple extra degrees Bakugou doesn’t exactly miss. He’s sporting his usual charming scowl, a quarter filled red solo cup weighing down his hand.
The beach is busy as hell, with tourists and locals alike. Parties weren’t really his scene, but bonfires? He doesn’t mind them. The fire is nice, glowing embers burning and casting an orangy haze over his face. Beside him Kaminari is flirting with some blue haired chick he met about a half hour ago, and Mina is sucking face with that aforementioned silver frat douche. From across the way, Bakugou is eyeing the same red haired guy from the resort. He’s of that fucking fraternity, he found out via fucking Pink Cheeks. But, just looking at him now, Bakugou knows he’s different. Kirishima sits on a log, knee bent under him as he strums at an out of tune guitar. He’s leading a sing-along, and people are swaying and smiling and he’s smiling and oh my god Bakugou’s forgotten what this feels like.
Kaminari bumps his shoulders. “I see ya starin’, Bakubro. Just go over there, I can feel your desperation and it's killing my mood.”
Bakugou scowls at him. “Go die.” He says, albeit half-heartedly, hating the way he feels his cheeks flush.
Kaminari grins up at him. “Look, man, if you don’t go over there, I will.”
“Don’t you dare-”
“Oh, look, I’m already up,” Kaminari makes a dramatic show of hopping off of the log, turning his body in Kirishima’s direction.
“I’ll kill you Dunce Face, I swear to god.”
Kaminari just laughs at him and yells for Kirishima’s attention. To Bakugou’s digress, the redhead looks away from the fret board of his guitar and his eyes land on Kaminari, before falling on Bakugou. He looks away, embarrassed.
“Yo, come over here, bro!” Kaminari calls, definitely sporting a cocky grin.
Bakugou puts his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe this was happening right now.
Kirishima kicks sand on his shins as he walks up to them. “Hey, guys.” He greets, shark tooth necklace dangling against his bare chest. Bakugou had to say, Kirishima was built. Boyish and square and strong and everything Bakugou liked in a man. Now, anyway.
Kaminari claps him on the back like they’ve been friends forever and not just meeting right now. “Bakugou’s shy, sorry about him- ow!” He winces as Bakugou kicks his shin, hard.
Mina finally looks away from Douche, crossing her legs so Kirishima could fit on the log with them. “That’s our Katsuki. I’m Mina, by the way. Mina Ashido. And that dummy is Denki Kaminari. And this handsome devil here is Tetsu.”
Kirishima waves at them, but smiles at the silver headed one. “Oh, I already know this dork, we’re here on vacation together.”
Mina laughs, giving Bakugou a knowing look. “What a small world.” She says.
“And getting smaller.” Bakugou grumbles.
Kirishima sits and rests the guitar against his legs. “So, you guys live ‘round here? I’ve seen you work at the resort we’re staying at?”
“You’ll only find local trash ‘round these parts, man.” Kaminari answers for them, friendly and extroverted in a way Bakugou just wasn’t.
“Ah.” Kirishima hums.
They fall into easy conversation. Bakugou just listens, grunting when he’s asked a question and sips at the shitty drink in his hand until it’s empty. He learns Kirishima’s first name is Eijirou and his Uni is one that is notoriously expensive. He screams daddy’s money but he’s cool about it so Bakugou says he doesn’t mind. He’s good at singing and he’s never been surfing before. And, of course, Kaminari has a giant fucking mouth and blurts that Bakugou is the ‘best surfer he knows’ like of course he is, he already knows that, but he also says Bakugou would teach him.
“Right, Bakubro?” Kaminari looks at him expectantly, wiggling his eyebrows like he just did him a massive favor.
“Depends on how much he’s paying.” Bakugou replies, because he can’t act desperate.
They all get a kick out of this.
Kaminari claps his back. “He’s joking.” He says. Bakugou wasn’t kidding. But, it’s fine, because,
“No, no, I’ll pay. How much would you like? Ten an hour?” Kirishima cocks a brow, looking genuine like he really, actually cares. Bakugou feels a smile come on and he can’t make it stop. He doesn’t say anything, just stares expectantly. “Twenty?” Kirishima tries again and Bakugou let’s himself smile.
“Deal.”
Mina gives him a look that says, wow, ripping off the rich frat boy, huh? And Bakugou just laughs and let’s himself have this. Let’s himself believe that maybe, maybe this would be okay.
/
It’s Sunday, Bakugou’s day off when he shows Kirishima where he lives. They’d been hanging out for the past week, mostly on his breaks or talking when they were in the same place at the same time in the resort.
“Sick place,” Kirishima noted and it sounds real so Bakugou lets himself believe it, “You live on your own?”
“Nah, gotta watch my batshit mother.” Bakugou told him, blunt and honest. The Bakugou’s were like that, don’t like it fuck you.
“Oh, okay.” Kirishima says, because how do you answer that, and follows Bakugou through the back.
“I have a board you can use, but if you break it you’re paying for it.”
“Noted.”
“Living on the beach seems so rad, dude.” Kirishima says in that frat boy dialect of his, lifting the spare board and holding it awkwardly. It was one someone gifted Bakugou a couple years ago, but being a black surfboard it really sucked in the sun and heated like a stove. Whenever he’d lie on it when taking a break he felt like he was frying like egg yolks.
“It is.” Bakugou responds, tucking his own board under his armpit and trudging to the shoreline. The waves were gentle, and all he really planned on showing Kirishima today was getting him to lie on his stomach and paddle against some mini waves.
“If I lived here I’d be swimming 24/7.”
Bakugou grunts, resting the board in shin deep water. “No oceans around where you live?”
“I live a little ways away from here, but residence is downtown so the drive is a bit far. My parents weren’t really outdoorsy people.” Kirishima explained, mirroring Bakugou’s movements.
Bakugou hums. “Okay. Lie down on your stomach and use your feet to go out deeper. We’re going to be paddling today.”
Kirishima descends, and Bakugou fights off a smirk when he notices him wince. Fuckin’ stupid black board.
They paddled out, far enough to not be able to touch but close enough to be safe. “Okay. Just picture yourself swimming. Paddle in the water with a clear goal in mind. Where do you want to go? And, the water is your friend. Don’t fight it. As my dad used to say, go with the way of the waves.”
“Your dad sounds like a smart man.” Kirishima says.
“The smartest.” Bakugou replies.
It seems that paddling isn’t the most fun activity so after about a half hour of fucking around their just lying on their boards. Bakugou’s eyes are closed but Kirishima is content filling the air with a mostly one sided conversation. Bakugou would have told anyone else to shut the fuck up but he finds he doesn’t mind Kirishima. His voice is soothing like the rocking of the waves.
“-And I was hoping to catch some waves today-” Kirishima was saying until bakugou chimed in, frowning.
“You can’t catch a fucking wave, noobie, you’d die.”
“D-die?”
Maybe that was dramatic. “You could, yeah. Water pushes you under, gives you no time for a breather, you hit a rock and bam, good night to you. Like, you see this scar?” Bakugou sits up, pulls at the hair at the back of his head to find a gnarly scar that wrapped around the base of his skull and down his neck. “Surfing accident from a couple years back. Fucking dangerous, man.”
Kirishima sucks air through his teeth. “Ouch.”
“Yup.”
“What about that one?”
Bakugou raises his brows, “Huh?”
Kirishima points at the scar on his face. “Surfing accident?”
“The hag did this to me; high outta her mind.”
“Oh, fuck, dude.” Kirishima wheezes, looking at his hands. Neither of them say anything for a while, until, “Does your mom hurt you a lot?” He asks, meekly.
“Nothin’ I don’t prolly deserve.” Bakugou says without interest, not letting it bother him because if he did he knew he’d just crumble and his dad wasn’t here to pick up the pieces.
Kirishima stays silent. Bakugou can feel the tension and he doesn’t like it but he doesn’t know what to do to make it go away. So, he splashes water in Kirishima’s face.
“Oh, you’re on, Katsuki.” Kirishima laughs and splashes him back, harder.
Bakugou notices the use of his given name but he chooses not to say anything.
He doesn’t mind.
They go back in after the salt starts to irritate their skin. Bakugou stands under the spray of the makeshift outdoor shower and let’s it melt away the salt. The water is cold like a wake up call. You’re getting in over your head. Bakugou shuts his eyes, wishes for a way to shut off his brain. They fly open when he feels a body stand beside him. Kirishima rinsed out his hair beside him, hips brushing his every so often. Bakugou wonders if a stampede is approaching or if that's just his heart pounding in his ears.
Kirishima touches the small of his back. “This was nice,” He murmurs, and Bakugou can feel Kirishima’s breath against his cheek. His brain just now processes how close they are. How effortlessly sexy Kirishima is. It would be so easy to just press up to his sturdy body and now he’s wondering what his lips taste like. Maybe like a cherry slushie from the popsicle stand at the resort? Or maybe watermelon chapstick, that he noticed in his room.
“Yeah,” Bakugou whispers and he doesn’t know why he’s whispering. Kirishima’s staring into his eyes and vaguely, he feels like he starts panicking.
And, then he swears Kirishima slightly leans in, and-
“Katsuki! Come clean up your fuckin’ mess, I’m having guests over!” Mitsuki’s yelling at him from the dock, waving around a couple cans of beer.
Bakugou groans and steps away from the shower. “Fucking, fine, give me a second.”
Kirishima turns off the dial. “Uh, so I guess I’ll go, then.”
Bakugou tries not to feel responsible for the disappointed expression Kirishima has. “Yeah, okay.”
“My brothers are having a party tonight, at one of their friends’ places, uh, if you wanna come.” Kirishima says, bashful like he was the first time they met.
“Yeah. Okay.” Bakugou says again, dumbly.
“See you later, then, Katsuki.”
Bakugou waves him off and heads back up to the house.
/
When Bakugou calls Kaminari later it isn’t because he’s freaking out.
“Just relax, Katsuki, you’ll be fine.” Kaminari tells him over the phone, sounding too amused.
“I have no clue what to wear. I’m not really a partier.” Bakugou complains, pulling another dirty shirt out of the pile of ‘clean’ ones.
“Don’t worry about that ‘cause I’m pretty sure Kirishima just wants to see you out of them anyway-”
“Shut your face. Don’t say another word.”
“You’re the one that called me, Bakubro. I’m just tryna help you out.” Kaminari reminds him. Bakugou hates that he’s right.
“And, like, the hag totally saw us. It’s gonna be so awkward, now.”
“Saw you do what, chief?” Kaminari sounds smug over the phone.
“Fucking nothing! Nothing!” Bakugou screams, not wanting to take this teasing right now. “Say something dumb again and I’m hanging up.”
“Fine. Okay, okay. Just be yourself, man. He’s totally into you. I mean, you’re sexy as hell. No homo.”
“None fucking taken.” Bakugou snorts and pulls a clean-ish shirt over his shoulders.
“And, why weren’t we invited to this party, hah? Are you too good for us now?”
“Two words, Denk. Fuck and you.”
“Touche.” Kaminari chuckles over the line. “Anyway, you good now? I’m just with Jirou right now and she’s gonna let me suck-”
Bakugou hangs up before he can hear the end of that sentence. He takes a shot of tequila, checks the mirror and is out the door.
Bakugou has Kirishima send him the address and triple checks it’s the right place before walking up to the door. It’s the kind of place he’d live in during his dreams, the kind of place Kirishima probably lives in. Once again she’s shocked into remembering just how different they were. With a deep breath, Bakugou pushes the door open. He’s immediately met with pounding bass, asscrack sweat and marijuana. Welcome to the gaudy party scene, folks.
If Bakugou could go outside of his body to take a real good look at himself he’ll probably look like a sore thumb. It’s busy here, and he’s never been all that good at social interaction. He doesn’t find Eijirou, and suddenly feels like leaving. When an honest to god hand squeezes at his thigh he almost does, but. Kirishima is in the kitchen. Some of his frat boys are surrounding him, talking, laughing. He listens in.
“Yeah? And how’s that delinquent you’ve been hanging out with? Heard he invited you to his room, huh?” Someone’s saying to Kirishima, and Bakugou narrows his eyes, hiding inside the doorway.
“Exactly. You’re just tryna get some tail, yeah? What was his room like? Probably a shithole, with how he looks. He’s from the ghetto, man, gotta watch yourself. Soon he’ll just be leeching off of ya for some change.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. He doesn’t care about what these dicks say about him. He was about to barge in, until.. a laugh. A deep, boyish laugh. One that he’s grown to like. He finds that he doesn’t like Kirishima’s laugh right now. He leaves the house before he can hear what Kirishima says back.
Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t cry. He doesn’t. But, sometimes he really fucking feels like it. So, instead, he gets mad. He gets mad and he yells at his mom and he breaks things and now he’s in his bedroom with a hole in the wall and nursing a maybe broken hand. It’s fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Of course Kirishima didn’t like him. That’s why he offered to pay so much for Bakugou’s pseudo-lessons. He doesn’t care. He just wants to buy him out for a fuck. That’s all it is. And to believe Kirishima actually wanted to kiss him earlier.
Pathetic.
This is what he got for trusting someone.
But, really. Sue him for actually wanting to be happy for once.
When he starts to feel the burning sensation under his eyelids he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He will not cry over a boy. He can’t. Distantly, he can hear Mitsuki banging on his door.
“Fuck off!” Bakugou cries out hoarsely, not wanting to deal with her shit right now. And, it actually stops. With a sigh, he leans back on the bed, staring up at the faded stars on his ceiling. He knew Masaru would know exactly what to tell him to make him feel better. “Why’d you leave me, you piece of shit.” Bakugou whispers, to nobody, to everyone. “I need you right now.”
Mitsuki opens the door. Bakugou sits up and is about to yell but she just smiles a little. “I made you tea, kid.” She says, and she eyes the hole in the wall. She says nothing.
Bakugou takes the mug, and looks away. He can’t make eye contact with her, not right now. “Look-” He starts, but Mitsuki cuts him off.
“I’m not- mad.” She says, doesn’t reach out, doesn’t try and grab his attention, just speaks. Bakugou has forgotten what her calm voice sounded like. “I just want to talk to you. I- I know it’s been.. rough on you. Your dad leaving. I know that I’ve been rough on you. I know Midoriya leaving was hard, too. And I know I’ve been a shit mother to you. I have, and I’m sorry. I need to take ownership. But, Masaru leaving was hard on me, too. And, I know you think it’s my fault.” Bakugou can feel Mitsuki looking at him. He stares at the mug.
“Shit, it probably was. And, I’m sorry for that too. But, whatever’s going on with you? You can talk to me. I know I’ve never been the greatest at listening, but Katsuki I am here for you. And, I love you.” Mitsuki pauses, and the room falls silent, only the in and out of breathing. “Please look at me. Say- something. Anything.”
Bakugou sighs. He looks at her in the eye and he knows he’s crying. He lets himself. “Why-” His voice cracks, exhausted and beaten. “Why can I never be happy, Ma?” He lets himself have this, let’s himself crumble because maybe, maybe Mitsuki will help him back together again. “What did I do to deserve it? I try, so hard. And nothing ever works out.” The tears are freefalling now and he can’t stop them
Mitsuki gapes like a fish before pulling his body into hers. He can’t remember the last time she hugged him. “Oh, baby,” She whispers, petting at his hair. “You’ve done nothing. You’ve always worked so hard. Shh, I know. I know.”
Bakugou sobs, fisting his hands into her blouse and crying into her shoulder. She feels warm, like a grounding force. He doesn’t feel okay, but maybe he will be.
He doesn’t know how long they sat there for, but it’s the early hours of the morning before he goes to sleep.
When Bakugou goes into work the next morning he’s happy to see he doesn’t have to be a delivery boy anymore. He’s back in the kitchen, his safezone. Bakugou clocks in, writing his name and the time the get into work on the slip. Pulling the apron off of his hook, he gets scared out of his skin when Uraraka appears behind him.
“Hey, need any help Bakugou-kun?” She asks, pulling at the strings.
“No, I’m-”
Uraraka ties it, tight. “Finished! Good morning, by the way.”
“You’re being even more happy-go-lucky than usual,” Bakugou mutters, walking to his station. “What’s up with you?”
Uraraka’s eyes visibly brighten. “I’m being upped to management!”
Awe, Bakugou actually kind of liked her. “That’s great Pink Cheeks.” He says, washing some fresh veggies.
“Thanks, Bakugou-kun. And, this means you’ll be main chef now! Today is a great day!”
Bakugou chops with a small smile. “Yeah. It is.”
When he sees Kirishima as he’s throwing out compost he pretends he doesn’t.
“Bakugou! Hi, man!” Kirishima speaks like nothing even happened. How would he? Bakugou had been hiding. He ignores him, dumping the trash behind the pool shack.
“Uh, okay, not in a talkative mood?”
Bakugou grunts and ties the bags.
“I noticed you bailed on the party last night? Is everything okay-” Kirishima says, puts his hand on Bakugou’s shoulder only to be shaken off.
“Don’t touch me.” Bakugou growls, hauling recycling bucks and lining them against the wall.
“Baku- Katsuki, what's wrong? Are you mad at me?” Kirishima sounds hurt. Damn right.
Bakugou drops what he’s doing to size him up. He walks in his direction and Kirishima takes a couple steps back. “Don’t call me that. Do not call me that.” He presses a finger into Kirishima’s chest and he isn’t gentle about it. Anger clouds his judgement and he remembers who he is. An asshole that ruins everything he touches.
“What did I do? Why are you so mad at me?” Kirishima’s face is scrunched in a guilty, confused mix of concern and if Bakugou wasn’t so angry he knows he would feel bad about it.
“What am I to you, Eijirou? A project? Some poor, messed up kid you can pretend to like and overpay for shitty lessons and make me feel something and then laugh when you’re stupid friends trashtalk me? What, am I a joke to you?” Bakugou scoffs, shaking his head, “And to think I actually thought you were a cool guy. You frat boys are all the fucking same.” Bakugou turns on his heel and he doesn’t look back.
The best way to cure a shitty couple of days is (arguably) a blunt. Kaminari says this to him while he’s shoving one into his hands, already blasted out of his mind. They’re in Mina’s room; her parents' big basement, the lights dimmed and a little box television flickering some over-marketed western romance movie. Bakugou weights it in his hands, as if weighing out his options. On one hand, it’s probably safer not to, so he won’t do something stupid. Plus, Mitsuki would smell it on him when he went home. But on the other, he would shut his brain off for a while, and maybe that’s all he needed right now.
With shaky fingers, Kaminari hands him a lighter.
Bakugou doesn’t say he hasn’t done this before, but they probably already know. Mina’s looking at him, rosy lips downturned like he’s making a mistake. He hasn’t told anyone about Kirishima, but they can feel the tension. Plus, it doesn’t help his case when he just ups and leaves the miniature Kirishima sits down with them. Bakugou doesn’t even feel like seeing Mina’s (boyfriend?) half the time.
He ignores her and lights up. Bakugou must have inhaled too fast, or too long, because he almost drops the blunt in a coughing fit. Kaminari’s laughing at him, rubbing quick circles on his back.
“Woah, easy there, tiger. You alright?”
Bakugou shrugs him off with a scowl, and tries again. This time goes more smooth, because like hell he’d make a fool out of himself again. The smoke curls out of his mouth in pretty white rivlets, cascading in the air in front of him and making his eyes tear up. But, he feels fine. He doesn’t think it’s working.
“Don’t be a hog, Kat, pass it over.” Mina’s making grabby hands, an expectant look on her face. Bakugou grumbles under his breath and passes it over.
Out the window, the sun has fallen over the waterline, shadows casting over the bumpy terrain of Mina’s backyard. The moon casts a glow over the ocean, and Bakugou finds his mind floating along with the algee. He feels.. Light. Weightless.
It’s definitely working.
Nobody’s paying any attention to the movie, and Kaminari turns the volume down. They fall into easy conversation, and Bakugou lifts his arm into the air only to feel it flop back to his lap. “S’no gravity,” He mutters, laughing lightly as he does it again.
He hears Kaminari’s voice but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Mina’s laughing and it makes him laugh too. Everything seems so funny.
So funny. “You know what’s funny?” Bakugou asks, and their attention turns back on him, bemused. “Kirishima thinks I’m some hoodrat he can get a good fuck out of.” He giggles, shaking his head. “Can you believe that? He doesn’t even know me.”
Kaminari gapes like a fish, and Mina’s about to say something until footsteps are making their way down the basement stairs, and someone makes their way into the space.
“Hey!” Kirishima says, and the room is deathly silent.
Bakugou doesn’t find this funny. “You fucking invited him? ” Bakugou asks Mina indecredusly, pointing a sharp finger in her direction. “What the fuck, Mina?”
“I-I didn’t know that was going on, I-” Mina looks down to her knees.
Tetsu appears behind Kirishima, and pauses. “Whats going on down here?”
Bakugou abruptly jumps off the couch, shrugging on his coat. “There’s nothing going on,” He says, suddenly hyper aware off all the eyes on him, “I was just leaving.” He bodily shoves Kirishima out of the way as he walks past.
“Bakugou, wait-” He starts, but Bakugou ignores him, walking two stairs at a time. He can’t deal with this right now. When he half-way through the door someone grabs his wrist. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“God, fuck, what do you want?” Bakugou growls, Kirishima’s hand branding into his wrist like a hot iron. His grip is tight, commanding attention.
“Bakugou, I just want you to listen to me. Please, just- let me explain what happened the other night.” Kirishima pleads, ruby eyes bleeding sincerity.
Bakugou yanks on his arm, struggling in his hold. “Just let me go. ”
“Just promise me you won’t run away. I-I just want to talk to you. Please, Bakugou.”
“Fuck! Fine, fine.” When Kirishima let’s go his wrist is red. He rubs at it. “Well? Get on with it then.”
Kirishima takes a deep breath, looking in his eyes. “What you heard at that party, it wasn’t what you thought it was.”
Bakugou raises a brow and opens his mouth to cuss him out. But,
“I wasn’t laughing with him, Bakugou, I was laughing at him. Katsuki, I broke his nose. Like, caved his face in. Everything he said about you, it was so untrue. I don't believe it for one second. You’re a hard worker and I could see that you needed help but I wasn’t pitying you. I wanted those lessons because I like you, Katsuki. Not because I feel bad for you.”
“You,” Bakugou starts, looking down at his hands, “You did that.. For me?”
“And, I would do it again.” Kirishima nudges Bakugou’s chin up with his thumb, making him look in his eyes. His vision blurs with tears. “I promise.” Kirishima says, linking their pinkies.
Bakugou feels a laugh bubble in his chest at the childish, endearing action. His heart goes kaboom as Kirishima wipes his tears. “I’m sorry for that stupid misunderstanding. I should’ve just gone straight to the decking, huh?”
Bakugou smiles, wide and genuine, for the first time in what felt like years. “Damn straight,” He says.
Kirishima smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Hey. Uh, do you wanna get out of here?”
Bakugou smirks, looping his arms around Kirishima’s neck. He leans forward, “Inviting me to your room, are you? Don’t wanna take me out on a date first?”
Kirishima flushes, hands holding his waist, fitting like they were meant to be there. “We can do that, too. You hungry? We can go get food.”
Bakugou smiles, “Sure, yeah. I know a restaurant we can go to, they have milkshakes.”
“Okay,” Kirishima smiles softly, pressing a kiss to his nose, “But, I’m driving.”
Bakugou nods. It was probably for the best. He digs around for his keys. He passes them over. “Let’s go.”
The old engine rumbles to life and Bakugou feels like putty as he melts into the seat. Kirishima isn't a quiet driver. He talked Bakugou's ear off about nothing and absolutely everything all at once until Bakugou wordlessly turned on the radio. Then, he opted to quietly humming under his breath and bellowed every lyric to Material Girl by Madonna.
Bakugou smiles into his fist as he stared out the window.
It seems that Kirishima did some research because he pulls into the parking lot of a local Ramen Shop, one that Bakugou had actually gone to a couple of times. It's a small mom and pops place, owned by an older couple. The door jingles as they push it open, and all the tables are empty.
Bakugou thanks his lucky stars for this one.
When Kirishima pulls his chair for him he snorts and kicks him in the shin. “What a gentleman.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. Bakugou doesn’t admit to the pink blush that settles high on his cheeks.
“What are you gonna have?” Kirishima asks, eyeing the small menu.
“Shrimp and curry broth, probably.”
“Spicy?”
“Extra spicy.” Bakugou smirks, putting his menu by the edge of the table. “I ain’t no pussy.”
Kirishima just laughs.
When the waiter comes over Bakugou orders for them both, with a bottle of soju on the side. He finds it’s easy to feel comfortable with Kirishima; with his careful eyes, genuine smile, the way his skin of his nose crinkles when he laughs.
“Me too.” Bakugou says, when their almost through their meal and have downed two bottles of soju. Kirishima just stares at him since he literally just blurted it out. Alcohol makes his tongue loose and being with Kirishima always made him feel a little stupid.
“Huh?” Kirishima asks, slurping on a noodle.
“I like you too, idiot.” Bakugou clarifies, finishing up the bowl. He sniffs. It was pretty fucking spicy.
Kirishima smiles so wide it actually hurts him a little.
When they walk out of the restaurant Bakugou lets Kirishima hold his hand back to the van. Kirishima backs him up against it.
“Today was fun.” He says, letting go of Bakugou’s hands in favour of holding the dips of his waist.
Bakugou loops his arms over his neck. “Save for the me hating your guts part.”
“You hated my guts?” Kirishima smiles a little, thumbing at his skin.
“A little.”
“That’s fair.” Kirishima says, sighing quietly. “Hey, Bakugou?”
Bakugou grunts and looks up into his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”
Bakugou looks down and huffs. “Yes, of course, you idiot.”
Kirishima smiles, pressing a finger to Bakugou’s chin to lift his face, and kisses him under the buzzing streetlights.
/
“Ready to catch your first wave, bro?” Kaminari asks, sitting on his surfboard as Kirishima paddles to catch up to him. The sun’s stealing blue space high in the sky, warming up the sun and making the roads gummy. It’s the hottest day off the summer so far, and their spending it well in the ocean.
“Dude,” Kirishima says, paddling in close to bump fists with the blonde, “Fuck yes.”
Bakugou watches from afar, already ready to take the first wave of this glorious Sunday. Mina’s here too, but she’s nursing a shark-shy Tetsu closer to the shore. Jirou, someone Bakugou has gotten to know better these past few weeks is an even better surfer than Kaminari, but don’t tell him he said that.
Bakugou flips the board mid wave, keeping his knees bent to suck in the impact. Salt water stings his eyes but he finds he’d rather be here than anywhere else.
Kaminari’s getting Kirishima ready, pointing at a wave in the distance. “Third is always best,” He’s explaining, a radiant smile on his face as Jirou floats close to his board.
Kirishima doesn’t commit and he loses the wave. Bakugou slaps his back, grinning. “You’ll get the next one,” And leans over his board to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He hears Kaminari whistle and kicks water in his face.
Kirishima splutters, going as red as his hair. “Y-yeah!”
It does take a few moments for another half-decent wave to come back around, but Kirishima is more than ready this time. He paddles with it, clearly using Bakugou’s advice from before, following the water, before bracing himself and standing up on his own to feet.
Bakugou feels proud, like a mother who’s seen their baby take their first step. Kirishima rides it, for a while, before completely wiping out. When he resurfaces, it’s with the brightest smile and two thumbs up.
Bakugou laughs.
And, yeah. Maybe they're a little bit fucked, but.
They'll make it work in the end; in their little world of airplanes and tinfoil hearts.