Chapter Text
Katsuki had been held at gunpoint in his life more times than he could count. His first time being when he was in middle school. He was walking home and a man had threatened to shoot him had he not given him his school bag, he even threatened to take his clothes. It’s something a child shouldn’t be exposed to, and it’s something he shouldn’t have been used to as a young teenager. He remembers during the academy, when they would scream in his face and hold guns to his forehead, his heart would pound but he wasn’t really afraid. He remembers when he was training for the feds, being forced to dismember a gun in under a certain amount of time (his record was fifteen seconds). Guns were common. Deadly, but common.
Eijirou had been held at gunpoint once in his entire life and it was in the parking lot all those months ago. He, admittedly, almost shit his pants. Rural police academy was far more mellow than the city. Out there you only really ever dealt with accidents and the occasional drug addict, but in the city, there were horrible people doing horrible things.
So yes, Eijirou was rightfully weary of guns, even if he wasn’t afraid- thanks to training. That did not mean that he didn’t panic when Katsuki charged at the armed stranger. It did not mean that he didn’t cry out for him when the blond literally brought a knife to a gun fight.
With a snarl, the Lieutenant launched over the hood of the black car and slammed his entire body into the masked figure, who shouted out in alarm and reached for his gun. Katsuki and the figure wrestled, neither the mask nor the hood budging. Eijirou cursed aloud when they rolled behind the car and out of sight, scrambling to help his partner- who was recovering from a recent injury no less.
“Bakugou!” He shouted when the sounds of struggle silenced, sliding around the car and ready to fight. However, when he turned the corner the masked figure was pinned against the ground, Katsuki’s knees where holding his arms to the side and there was a knife pressed against the attacker’s throat. The gun was in his other, aimed at the sky and loose in his grip.
Eijirou was about to pull out his phone to call Chief Aizawa in panic when Katsuki rolled off of their assailant with a grunt.
“I win this one.” He said simply, leaving the gun on the man’s chest, who was still lying flat on his back. Eijirou gaped, watching as Katsuki pocketed his knife and dusted himself off.
And then a tired voice spoke. “Yeah, but admit it: you were caught off guard.”
The man on the ground was clad in all black, a hood pulled over his head and a sleek, tinted plastic mask across the entirety of his face. Katsuki offered him a hand and pulled him up as the figure groaned in pain, grabbing at his ribs.
“You really had to hit me that hard?” He whined, voice muffled. Katsuki just clicked his tongue, and turned back to Eijirou as if he hadn’t just let a strange, armed, man free.
“Maybe if you learned to fucking dodge me you wouldn’t have taken the brunt of it,” he snarked. “Take that shit off already.”
And the man obliged, reaching up and pulling the hood off, revealing a tuft of lavender hair. Huh.
The man glared at Katsuki. “Fuck you.”
“No thanks.”
Eijirou took a step forward, before they could begin bickering again. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that this man was obviously one of their security guards. “I-uhhh… Lieutenant, who is this?”
The purple-headed man scratched at his stubble and held out a gloved hand nonchalantly. “Hitoshi Shinsou, federal officer and this property’s temporary security officer.”
Eijirou’s brow lifted, he looked back to Katsuki, who was picking at his nails with his own knife as they shook hands. “I had no idea we were getting security.”
Katsuki looked up abruptly. “Hm? Oh, I forgot to send you the paper with the details of our little stay.”
Shinsou, he believes his name was, snickered. “Some Lieutenant you are, aye Bakugou?”
That earned a dangerous glare. “Shut the fuck up. Sorry Detective, thought I told you, I believe your parents are aware though.”
Eijirou nodded, almost laughing at the way Katsuki immediately was sent into work mode. The blond was no longer hunched, both arms at his side casually and face stone cold as Shinsou followed Eijirou at his side to the front of the house.
“You know,” the short of the two spoke. “This is a super nice place, one of the nicest places I’ve seen a witness stationed in.”
Eijirou laughed, unlocking the front door with the keys from his pocket, Katsuki stood behind them both and watched with a glare. “Yeah, my mom used to house for W.P.P. so she was more than happy to move us in, makes it easier.”
The door opened and the man let out a whistle, admiring the tall ceiling and the pretty paint. “Nice place. Damn Bakugou, if I had known I was going to be working here I would have come sooner.”
“Shut the hell up and start planning your patrols, fuckface. Don’t you have men to station?” Eijirou would have scolded Katsuki for his harsh words, had Hitoshi not given him the most terrifying and lazy eyed grin he’d seen- scratch that, Aizawa’s was slightly more terrifying.
Shinsou shrugged as they stepped into the living room. “They’ll be here in a few days, two of them are actually getting a bit of information for the Overhaul trial.”
Katsuki hummed, and Eijirou took the opportunity to stare at the way Hitoshi was leant up against the counter and staring at the blond as he moved about the kitchen, making coffee. The redhead narrowed his eyes but decided to make friendly conversation anyways.
“So Detective Shinsou, how long have you known the Lieutenant?” That question for Katsuki laughing out loud as he poured three cups, and the other man growled.
Katsuki handed Eijirou his mug first. “I beat the shit out of him freshman year because he kept talking shit-“
“Okay I wasn’t talking shit I just didn’t know that you were-“
“And then I just proved him wrong, broke his fucking nose-“
“-and then he just randomly attacks me-“
The tallest of them stood with his mug up too his lips, eyes shifting between the two as they gradually became more desperate to speak over each other. Katsuki retold the story as if he had violently and proudly beat the poor man to a pulp, and Hitoshi was defending himself and downplaying things as much as possible. He let out an awkward laugh, which gained both of their attention and they both stopped bickering.
Okay, so this new guy was Katsuki number two, apparently. He was a few inches taller than the Lieutenant, and his hair was long and he had stubble, just like their Chief. Perhaps they were related?
While he was thinking, Shinsou had unzipped one of his many pockets on his vest and taken out a folded paper, all while Katsuki shuffled to stand next to Eijirou in the doorway. That sent something warm up to his face.
“I was told to give you this,” Shinsou grumbled, holding it out between two fingers and audibly gulping his coffee. “Only a handful of people know your exact location excluding me. That makes the Chief, my guys, and Kaminari-“
Katsuki groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Why does he know our location?”
The guy just shrugged nonchalantly, placing his empty coffee mug in the sink, and said a tad bit too angrily, “Because he’s an annoying bastard.”
A hand slid up behind Eijirou’s back and held the hem of his shirt discreetly, as if Katsuki was letting him know that he was not ignoring him, as to reassure him he was still listening. The blond handed him the slip of paper and Eijirou read it slowly.
Lieutenant and Detective, this is a summary from the quick debriefing of your witness protection for the following months. Please note that Lieutenant Bakugou may be requested to leave Location Alpha to continue his investigation, seeing as he refuses to hand the case to someone more available. Eijirou winced at that.
-Lieutenant Katsuki Bakugou is not permitted to leave Location A without supervision, however it must be security accompanying him, and not just Detective Kirishima.
-Detective Eijirou Kirishima is not permitted to leave Location A without checking in with security first.
-Do not disclose your location, name, or anything personal, face masks must be worn at all times outside of Location A. (Identities will be provided upon further notice)
-Lieutenant Katsuki Bakugou is not permitted to leave Location A without his firearm.
Eijirou glanced up from the paper at Katsuki, quirking an eyebrow. “You get a firearm now?”
Katsuki hummed, glanced back at the paper with surprise evident on his face. “Oh shit, really? I didn’t even read that far.”
Sure enough, he found it written beside the taller man’s finger; he was finally going to get a gun. The redhead grinned down at him, gaze flickering up at Detective Shinsou briefly, catching the studious way the man was scratching at his stubble. His grin faltered when he raised Shinsou’s narrowed eyes trained on them.
A stab of dread hit the redhead’s gut, knocking the wind out of him as lavender met red and that suspicious glare was on him, burning through his pupils and filling his brain with anxiety. Suddenly, and admittedly for the first time, Eijirou realized that perhaps they were in a bit of a predicament- a romantic predicament.
Not that Eijirou has regrets about finally kissing Bakugou, but he’s barely now realizing that he kissed his partner. Katsuki was now bedside him, completely engrossed in the paper in his hand and oblivious to the strange staring match happening between them in the kitchen.
Eijirou and Katsuki had become romantically involved in a professional setting, not only is that heavily inappropriate but given the situation that puts them both at a very vulnerable place. Now a federal detective is staring at them both like they’re practically making out in front of him, how the hell is he supposed to pretend that the infamous Katsuki Bakugou was not heavily pressed against his side like a mindless puppy.
Hitoshi was not an idiot, and so he could very obviously see what was happening before him. When him and Katsuki were training together, living as dorm mates and literally living like soldiers, the asshole let him touch him a total of five times- not literally, but it was no doubt close. He’s never seen the guy touch anyone, that’s what he was trying to imply. Yet here he was, pressed against Big and Beefy without a second glance; he has to admit, he’s a bit jealous.
After four months of living with Katsuki, he’d learned the guy likes to cook and he likes his alone time. Hitoshi and him would watch movies over the weekends after training and once he slung an arm around the blond he got pushed so hard he broke the railing on his bed- his military grade, metal bed. In fact, his adversity to touch was the entire reason they tried to kill each other each time they met up.
Well, not entirely.
It began with partnering up, really. Hitoshi will admit, he was an asshole back then, almost as much as Katsuki was in their teenage years. A protégé, Hitoshi was a little annoyed to see he wasn’t the only seventeen year old in their federal training academy, so he constantly challenged the angry blond to try to prove he was better and just as deserving as some prideful brat. However, they were too similar in combat styles and it always fucked with sparring and partner work, so they made friendly (if one could call it that) competition. It made the stress of adult life so much easier, to go on undercover missions and spot a familiar head of hair and just pounce.
Some instances though, they couldn’t just spontaneously attack each other, like in the many times they had met purely by chance on a mission.
Once, when Hitoshi was working a sex trafficking bust, “purely by chance” was what made the night so memorable.
He was perched atop the roof of a large club, it was pitch black amongst neon street signs and he was gazing down into the center of the dance floor from a glass panel in the roof, while his team surrounded the rest. They were preparing to take siege, and just when Shinsou was about to signal the go ahead, one of his men had accidentally turned on the laser on his gun and it shone directly down into the center of the bustling crowd.
Hitoshi’s head shot up and he glared with hellfire in his eyes at the rookie who almost blew their shot, he would have shouted but it would be impossible over the vibration of heavy music below.
The rookie held his gloved hands up and swiped at the visor on his helmet. “Sorry,” he whispered harshly. “I’m sorry boss!”
He let it go, because luckily a laser like that would easily blend in with the club lighting, and prepared to give the go ahead again.
Only, when he returned to overlooking the scene, someone was staring back at him. Red eyes widened just a fraction in recognition, and the person staring up at him pressed a finger to his ear-an earpiece- and muttered something unheard, his gaze not once leaving Shinsou’s.
“Shit,” he cursed, knowing they were screwed.
The man below gave a curt nod, having received information from his earpiece, and familiar red eyes slid away from Hitoshi before he actually realized who he was looking at: fucking Detective Katsuki Bakugou, dressed as a club bouncer.
He laughed quietly to himself, a hand raised and the entirety of his team bristled. The sound of silencers and safeties being clipped practically echoed in his ear, and he heard a single, muffled shout from somewhere within the club amongst the music. In an instant, all eyes were on him, and a single closed fist was enough to send men crashing through the ceiling.
Outside the club was loud enough, but as the seal was broken between them the world was flooded with scents, smells, and sights that had Hitoshi glad he was wearing protective gear. A spray of glass had the men and women inside ducking for cover, confused screaming shrilling through music that was abruptly cut off.
Somewhere to his left, a roaring voice shocked the entire crowd silent. The voice was so potent and commanding that even the guilty hesitated in their clamber for escape. It was instantly recognizable and he was grateful it was, because otherwise he would have no control over the situation.
“Police! Do not exit this building, or you will be shot!”
Hitoshi’s squad seized the moment, men grasping at well dressed guests and struggling for control, cuffing and restraining what little people they could; they moved like rats desperate for freedom.
He reached underneath a table of spilled drinks, and grasped at the man cowering beneath it. The mousy man was tucked beneath his arms, spouting bullshit and smelling like sweat. He pleaded for mercy, that he didn’t know what kind of club this was and he was just about to leave.
But Hitoshi knew this man, he was his target after all, and he owned the club. So he let him know.
He wrangled him up forcefully, ignoring the pathetic cries. “You sold those poor girls, asshat. Now stay silent or else you’ll dig yourself and even deeper grave-“
“What the hell are you doing with my target?” A gruff voice growled from behind him, and Hitoshi visibly sighed.
With a single hand holding the man up from the back of his collar, Hitoshi turned as slow as he could, head dropping back in a silent groan. “This is my target, Detective Bakugou. I was assigned this c-“
The blond stood, hair shiny with glass fragments and black tie crooked. He adjusted his sleeves, scowling. “No, Detective, this is my target. Now fuck off.”
Hitoshi doesn’t really remember exactly how the fight went on, but he does remember dropping the target on his face. He does remember that both Katsuki and him had lunged for each other at the same time, and he does remember that Hitoshi won that fight; he also got to keep his target as a prize while Bakugou turned up empty handed. It was a smug victory, and he remembers it fondly.
But now Katsuki was standing before his line of sight, an eyebrow raised in amusement and he realizes that he had been staring at Detective Kirishima for a while now. So had he, apparently, because the redhead cleared his throat in embarrassment from behind the blond.
The two idiots were staring at each other for at least three minutes straight, and it was beginning to freak Katsuki out, so he had been timing them.
“That was impressive,” The Lieutenant snarked as he looked between them. “Was that the world’s longest staring contest or did you both happen to lose your marbles at the same fucking time?”
Eijirou blinked, taken aback by his view being obstructed and puffed his chest in indignation. “I clearly won, though, didn’t I?”
“In your dreams Clifford.” That earned a pointed glare.