Work Text:
There was something sacred about 5am.
Kirishima had known this for years. Up until the last year of middle school, he and his family would travel to almost the other side of the country to visit his cousins. Even if Kirishima couldn't visit them nearly as often since he started attending UA, road trips had always been important to he and his family. Family bonding, according to his mothers, and if Kirishima was hard-pressed to answer, to him too. Embarrassing to say, maybe, but he didn't really mind admitting it. That meant that they never flew. Always drove the thirteen hours that it took to reach.
(Kirishima was a slow eater. It should only have taken eleven, but the food stops always added a couple hours)
5am felt like waking up in the early hours of the morning, shooting his mothers tired smiles as he and his little sister sluggishly brushed their teeth and slipped into the backseat of the car, dozing off within minutes, head lolling on stuffed animals to pillow their necks.
In the dorms, 5am was exchanging quiet hellos with Ojiro, stretching on his martial arts mat as Kirishima made his way to the track. Sometimes, Kirishima ran with Bakugou, but mornings were generally alone time. Some nights, it was falling asleep at five. That usually happened when he got too into video games with Kaminari and Sero.
Whatever the reason, whenever Kirishima was up at five, he found something to enjoy. Even if he was filled with exhaustion, it was soothing.
Now, as he watched Bakugou’s chest slowly rise and fall, Kirishima couldn't stop a slow, soft smile from stretching across his face. 'A sleepover!' He had cried the night before. Bakugou refused to pull an all-nighter, claiming that he wouldn't go with Kirishima on whatever mystery plans he had arranged for the next day. It was smart, Kirishima supposed, even if Bakugou had no way of knowing that the plans required them up so early.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima whispered. He poked the blond’s cheek when he didn't stir, giggling slightly at the sight of his cheeks squishing together. “Bakugou.”
No response.
Well, Kirishima thought. I can work with that.
Carefully, he rolled Bakugou over onto his back, and crawled up beside him. Somehow, while they were sleeping, Kirishima had managed to move sideways, and had woken with his face pressed up against the side of Bakugou’s calf, an arm and a leg falling off the side of the bed.
It was probably thanks to Bakugou and his starfish sleeping habits, honestly. The man was pushy even while dead to the world.
A snort made Kirishima jump, but it was just Bakugou attempting to flail outwards again. Kirishima waited until he had calmed down to lean over him, blinking owlishly down at his sleeping face and slowly raising his hands.
Bakugou was way too adorable in his sleep, but when Kirishima prodded at his face, he became impossibly cuter. “Bakugou,” Kirishima said again. “Wake up. Wake up, man, we gotta go! We have’ta leave now, dummy! Get your butt moving!”
He squished at Bakugou’s cheeks, pulling them every which way and trying and failing to hold in his laughter, especially when Bakugou’s eyes blinked open. It took him a minute to register what exactly was going on, and when he did, his face didn't change.
“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou said calmly, voice raspy from sleep. Kirishima grinned, disguising the little tap dance his heart made at the sound.
“Yes, dear?”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you dead.”
Kirishima gasped, flopping forward onto his friend and latching his arms around Bakugou’s middle. It was probably because of the cold that had seeped into the room during the winter night, but Bakugou didn't push him off. “We have places to be! Get up, get up, get up! No, don't look at the clock you—ugh, whatever, it’s wrong anyway. Just trust me bro.”
“That was a lot of words and not the reason I was looking for,” Bakugou grumbled. “It’s ass o’clock in the morning and you expect me to move?”
“You said that if we didn't stay up all night we could do the thing I planned,” Kirishima whined. “So get the fuck up Katsuki!”
They stared at each other, Kirishima with wide, frenzied eyes, and Bakugou with a mix of surprise and mild amusement. “Well, when you put it that way…no.”
“You leave me no choice,” Kirishima sighed. Before Bakugou could reply, he leapt to his feet, taking the blond with him, and shoved him towards his closet, ignoring the shouted curses and inaccurate explosions. “You promised, man. Get up, we’ve got to go!”
Kirishima couldn't say for sure what made Bakugou relent, but after he scrutinized the redhead’s face for a moment, he sighed dramatically and pointed at the door. After loudly proclaiming that Bakugou had approximately three minutes before Kirishima busted back in, Kirishima stepped into the hallway. He was actually glad that Bakugou had kicked him out, because he needed to make sure everything was ready anyway. Tsu had promised to put the food into the fridge the night before, and judging by the…well, food, it looked like she had done perfectly. Some of it was especially perishable, and Kirishima would have just about died if anything went wrong.
It wasn't a date. It wasn't, and yet with everything going on between him and Bakugou, he couldn't help but feel like it was. A surprise first date. That sounded good to Kirishima. After all, what kind of best friends called each other ‘dear?’
Actually, only Kirishima called him that, and actually, quite a lot of his classmates made those jokes, but that wasn't the point! What he had with Bakugou was special, he knew it was.
Maybe Kirishima just really wanted this to be a date.
Wait.
Fuck.
It wouldn't be a surprise if Bakugou found all this food. Kirishima was so stupid! He should have woken up way earlier and hid the food somewhere. How was he supposed to run all the way to the hill and back before the three minutes were up?
Classmates are supposed to help each other, right? Kirishima thought desperately, racing up three flights of stairs. Friends are supposed to help each other! We’re friends! Maybe not the best of friends, but he would do this for me, he’s a good guy.
“Iida?” Kirishima called tentatively, knocking on the class president’s door. For whatever reason, Iida opened it instantly, pajama hat askew on his head and expression unusually cheerful. Kirishima might have liked early mornings, but he hadn't met too many others who did.
“Kirishima!” He called. Way too loud for the quiet hallway and especially too loud for 5am, but Kirishima wasn't about to say anything about it. “It is quite early! Is there something you need?”
“I really need you to run and hide this food before Bakugou gets dressed,” Kirishima said breathlessly. He waited a couple anxious seconds for Iida to process his words, certain that by the time he properly explained they would be too late, but thankfully, the blue-haired boy straightened.
“Any occasion?” He asked, and—wait. Was he teasing? Was that what this was?
“It’s a picnic,” Kirishima admitted. “And a secret, and I forgot to put the food at the spot beforehand, and I'm not nearly fast enough to get there. Could you please help? I'll owe you so much, man!”
“No need,” Iida assured him. “This is for a good cause, and I was up anyway. There’s this radio station in India that just so happens to be one of the best I’ve ever heard,” he informed him. “Whether I understand the words or not. Anyway, where should I drop it off?”
“The hill next to the mall. Thank you so much, man, this means so much to me, you're seriously the best, I—”
“It’s really no problem,” Iida chuckled. “It’ll take me a couple minutes at most. Can’t go at my top speed—wouldn't want to ruin the food—but even then!”
“Manly,” Kirishima whispered. He was so fast.
Iida smiled bashfully, before determination filled his features, as if he remembered the time constraint. He pulled off his pajama hat and groped behind him for his glasses. “Thank you. I'll be off now, and good luck on your date, Kirishima.”
Maybe it wasn't just Kirishima.
He ran back up to Bakugou’s room, knocking lightly (he didn't want to wake anyone else up) before waltzing inside. Four minutes after he had left. Not bad.
“You're late,” Bakugou said anyway, sitting on his bed and glaring up at Kirishima, who simply beamed at him.
“I said approximately, didn't I? Besides, you made us even more late by refusing to get your ass up,” he said. “So you have no ground to stand on. Now let’s go, please!”
“I really hate you, you know that?”
“Let’s get some food in you and see what you think!” Kirishima said cheerfully. Bakugou raised his eyebrow.
“So it’s food related?”
“N-No!” Kirishima laughed nervously. “No, just saying. You're always more grumpy when you're hungry.”
Bakugou obviously didn't believe him, but shrugged, thankfully dropping the subject. Well, Kirishima was thankful until he opened his stupid mouth again. “Any particular reason why you were talking to Four-Eyes?”
“How did you know?”
The blond rolled his eyes, clearing his throat dramatically and schooling his features into something more respectable. “Kirishima!” He shouted, nearly at the top of his lungs. Kirishima slapped a hand over both his and his friend’s mouth, stifling his own cackles at Bakugou’s awful, awful Iida impersonation.
“He’s a great guy, you know! Oh, speaking of—”
Iida must be on his way back, if he wasn't back already, so Kirishima figured it was safe to tug Bakugou downstairs. They passed the class president on his way to the elevator, and he and Kirishima exchanged conspiratorial nods that had Bakugou scowling in confusion. Before he could sulk about not being in the know, Kirishima started talking his ear off about anything and everything that entered his mind. He knew he was doing a poor job of hiding his excitement, though Bakugou didn't seem to mind. Kirishima was used to a scowl on his friend’s face, but apparently, 5am was doing things to him too. He was calmer, letting himself smile easier, letting his gaze linger on Kirishima longer. All of it filled Kirishima with the same confidence that had come to him in waves mere minutes earlier, only this time, he was sure that it would last.
This was a date. He was making it one.
They were both making it one.
“Where the fuck are we going?” Bakugou barked, shivering even with two coats and a scarf. It was still dark out, and Kirishima could just barely make out the puffs of air in front of them, no doubt reminding Bakugou to be angry at being forced to get up at such an 'ungodly hour,' as he had once put it. Really, the man was too dramatic for his own good. He never had a problem with the early morning when he was the one dragging Kirishima out of bed to go hiking.
Kirishima shook his head fondly, not quite answering Bakugou, and wondered if it would be too bold to reach for Bakugou’s hand so early.
The first time he had noticed that his feelings for his friend might be requited, it hadn't been as earth-shattering of a revelation as he would have thought. It was just…oh. A nice, quiet, simple, oh. Bakugou had laughed so softly at a joke—it wasn't even good, really, Kirishima couldn't even remember what it was—and said ‘maybe we are friends, Shitty Hair. ’ To anyone else, it wouldn't have been a lot. Maybe not enough. To Kirishima?
He soared.
It wasn't just the words. It was the way that Bakugou’s red eyes never left his. His tone, inflection, all of it.
A nice, quiet, simple, oh.
Then had come the sleepovers and the couple-second too long hugs and the bentos slid silently across kitchen counters and the ‘ are you cold? Come over here.' Kirishima didn't know what exactly they were waiting for, but whatever it was, he didn't mind. He didn't mind waiting patiently, not when the reward was Katsuki. It felt wrong to rush things. He was pretty sure that Bakugou felt the same—at least a little. Maybe he didn't love Kirishima, but that was okay too—and playing the long game filled him with as much warmth as not officially dating him could do. Of course he wanted to hug and kiss Bakugou, but…these glances were nice. The unspoken tension. The knowing looks.
Kirishima reached for his hand.
“I forgot gloves,” he murmured. Bakugou’s eyes flitted down to where Kirishima’s left hand was tucked neatly into his coat pocket, hidden from the cold, and Kirishima held his breath, afraid he would scoff and deny him. Instead, fingers tinged pink from the frigid air met Kirishima halfway, and he beamed.
“Me too,” Bakugou mumbled, determinedly not looking at him. His cheeks and ears were pink too, but Kirishima didn't get his hopes up. It could be from the cold just as well as from a blush.
The hill Kirishima had planned the picnic on faced the East, so that they could see the sunrise. Kirishima might not have told Bakugou, but he knew the blond had figured it out. The sunrise part, at least. Hopefully not the picnic part.
"We gotta hurry," Kirishima said, pulling Bakugou forward. They ran, stumbling through the night over almost invisible rocks and pulling each other back up, Kirishima laughing the whole way. Kirishima led the way, and they got to the spot with less than ten minutes before sunrise, according to the weather app that he had checked the night before.
"The hell did you do, shithead?" Bakugou asked. He hadn't noticed the picnic basket or cooler behind one of the trees yet, which made Kirishima grin. Flipping Bakugou’s hood up and yanking it over his eyes, he whirled his friend around and instructed him to stay put while Kirishima got everything ready. By the time he was done, Bakugou was hopping from one foot to the other, loudly griping about the cold and how much of a little bitch Kirishima was.
The redhead didn't take that to heart. He simply hummed a jaunty tune to mask the sound of the rustling blanket, and just like that, it was ready.
"Just in time," he called happily, checking his clock to see that they had six minutes left, and dragging Bakugou over, throwing his arms out towards the spread extravagantly. "Like it?"
"Did you…you did all this?" Bakugou asked. Mouth slightly agape, he took in the sight of all the food on the blanket, and the couple of beers, sodas, and fruit juices that Kirishima had stuffed into the cooler. He didn't know what Bakugou would want, so it was best to just bring everything.
"Yeah!"
"You cooked it?"
Kirishima looked at the ground, letting out an embarrassed laugh. "Well…no. I ordered food late last night and had Tsu put it in the fridge while we were hanging out, and then I forgot to set this up before you woke up, so I asked Iida just now to run and put it here. I know you would have rathered it be home cooked and stuff so I'm sorry about that but you know I'm not that good a cook, especially with complicated foods, and—"
"Jesus Christ," Bakugou interrupted, giving Kirishima a genuine smile. "I don't give a shit. Food is food. Can we eat now?"
Yes! Kirishima resisted the urge to pump his fists in delight. His picnic was stamped with a Bakugou Seal of Approval.
The date had started.
“So what’s the occasion?” Bakugou asked, turning back to look at him with a raised brow as he settled onto the blanket. Kirishima froze, desperately trying to think of what to say without putting words to the magnetism between them or the fact that this wasn't just a regular friendly hangout.
“Sunrise,” he said lamely. Before Bakugou could reply, he hurried forward, plopping himself down next to the blond and shooting him a bright smile. “Let’s eat, man! You were right about the surprise being about food.”
“I'm always right,” Bakugou huffed. He glared at Kirishima, obviously daring him to argue, but the redhead wasn't looking for a fight, so he simply rolled his eyes good-naturedly and started unwrapping the first pair of pastries.
“I got two of everything,” he explained. “So that we can both try things. And then if I like something a lot and you don't, you can give it to me! And vice versa, of course.”
“As if I’d give you any of my food.”
Bakugou pretended like he hadn't said that mere minutes later, begrudgingly handing over the uneaten half of a chocolate filled delicacy that Kirishima had been drooling over even while eating his own. As they ate, sunrise got closer and closer, until the very beginning rays of light started to breach the horizon. It was more than a little difficult for Kirishima to keep his eyes off of Bakugou, but he didn't want to make another move. After the handholding, it was up to Bakugou.
If Kirishima was wrong about this…no. He couldn't think like that. Everything so far had pointed to Bakugou being into him. What happened to that confidence from before? Things were going well, and they were going to keep going well, if Kirishima had any say in the matter. The date was half his, anyway, so he liked to think that he did.
Kirishima was startled out of his thoughts by a hand brushing against his chin. He jumped, turning wide eyes to Bakugou. When he did, the blond didn't look up, too focused on whatever crumbs he was wiping away to bother with something as unimportant as eye contact. He huffed and puffed, muttering about messy eaters and man-children. All the while, Kirishima held his breath, too afraid to speak and ruin the moment. If he asked, what would Bakugou say? 'Your face was pissing me off', or ‘I don't hang out with messy people’, probably.
A brush of Bakugou’s thumb against his bottom lip sent electricity down Kirishima’s spine. His lips were parted, and he was certain that Bakugou was too careful to do something like that on accident.
All too soon, the blond pulled away, ducking his head down to eat a big scoop of rice, still avoiding Kirishima’s gaze. The redhead felt his heart jump in his chest, and forced himself to thank Bakugou in a shaky voice, knowing that anything else would be too much. Almost. They were almost there.
“I can't believe you woke me up for this,” Bakugou said eventually, but his voice didn't hold any of the judgement or anger that would have upset Kirishima. Instead, he almost sounded pleased. As if Kirishima had done him a favor by dragging him out here. Kirishima glanced at him, momentarily stunned into silence at the way the light danced in his eyes. Pools of lava, holding his gaze with none of the fury that Bakugou was known for. They were warm, looking at Kirishima. They said ‘this means something to me. ’
Between the orange flecks, smatterings of gold in an otherwise sea of red, there was love.
“I'm glad you like it,” Kirishima said softly. Bakugou looked at him a second longer before he scoffed and turned away again. This time, there was no mistaking his pinked cheeks for anything other than what they really were. Signs of endearment, embarrassment, affection.
“Who said I fuckin’ like it?” Bakugou mumbled. He made no move to hide when his lip quirked up, which told Kirishima all he needed to know. The redhead let out a light laugh, and turned his gaze back onto the brilliant colors before them, a mix of yellow, orange, pink, and purple.
“It’s gorgeous,” he whispered. His words were reverent, almost. In the early morning, with the world drenched in color, speaking too loudly might as well have been a sin. That, he was sure of.
“Yeah,” Bakugou replied, voice suddenly raspier than before. “It is.”
Kirishima turned to him, not expecting to see his friend watching him so openly. So intently. He blushed furiously, all of a sudden far too bashful to take things further, and stuffed his mouth once more. Still feeling Bakugou’s eyes on him, he laid back on the blanket, one arm behind his head, and stared up at the orange sky, a small smile on his face. A minute. All he needed was a minute, and then he would be ready. Any doubts he might have still harbored were long gone by now. Even before Bakugou had spoken, Kirishima knew. It was happening now, and he couldn't think of a better moment.
To satiate Bakugou while he collected himself, Kirishima reached out with his free hand and laced his fingers with Bakugou’s, not looking over as he did so. For a moment, Bakugou’s hand was listless in his own, until he dragged his thumb across Kirishima’s knuckles. The redhead copied his movement, rubbing at his friend’s skin and memorizing the feel of their joined hands.
Suddenly, Bakugou let out a bark of laughter, making Kirishima jolt in surprise.
He realized he was wrong. Being loud wasn't a sin, here, not necessarily. Not if you were Bakugou. Not when you laughed like that. It wasn't particularly attractive by any means—the opposite, really—but Kirishima would both kill and die to have the sound bottled up. It warmed him to his core, especially coming from the man who everyone assumed to be incapable of such laughter. Kirishima had never understood that. If you knew Bakugou, knew what he liked, who he really was, he would laugh with you. At you, more often than not, but Kirishima hadn't become his friend by being prone to insecurity over the meager insults Bakugou threw around. None of their class had.
“What’s up?” Kirishima asked.
“Polka-dotted,” Bakugou snorted, waving their hands around as if he had just discovered something magical. Polka-dotted. Kirishima wasn't seeing the joke.
“Uh…what?”
“Your face,” he crowed, leaning over Kirishima with a grin on his face. Not a sneer, or a mean grin. Pure, unbridled joy. The kind that made Kirishima’s breath catch in his throat.
“I'm lost,” he managed, pushing himself up onto his elbows, still holding Bakugou’s hand.
“You always are, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou said, rolling his eyes. “You've got eight moles on your face, you know that? Small ones, but still. Is that enough to be counted as freckles?” He wondered aloud, nose scrunching as he thought. “Either way—polka-dots.”
Kirishima gaped at him, face slowly but surely reddening.
“I knew that,” he stammered. “But how—how did you know that?”
“I counted,” Bakugou said, like it was obvious. “Just now. While you were thinkin’.”
Now normally, it probably wouldn't be considered that strange for a person to notice moles. The only issue—was it an issue? Kirishima didn't think so—was that he was tan. Darker than Bakugou, that was for sure, which meant—
“They nearly blend in completely,” Kirishima said slowly. “You'd have to—you’d have to be looking real hard to see all of them.” Or any of them.
Bakugou looked away, then back at Kirishima, then away again. The next time he looked back, he was about as red as Kirishima felt. Still, his voice was even when he spoke. “Maybe I was looking hard,” he said, shrugging. His words were as nonchalant as possible, like it wasn't a big deal, when in reality, the make up of the entire morning had shifted. It was happening now, whether either of them were ready or not.
Kirishima, for one, was more than ready. He held Bakugou’s gaze for what seemed like hours, the sky lightening to a pretty peach above them, their faces warming for more than one reason. Finally, he smiled. Slow and genuine, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Bakugou’s face stayed impassive, and Kirishima knew that he was supposed to miss the sudden sweatiness of the blond’s hand, but he didn't, and he knew that Bakugou knew he didn't.
The kiss was a long time coming.
Kirishima snaked a hand around Bakugou’s neck, pulling him down as he leaned up. They met each other in the middle, lips pressing against each other with light from the pink and orange sky enveloping them. It was everything Kirishima had imagined it to be and more. He could taste remnants of a raspberry tart on Bakugou’s lips, the kind that had stained them red, and couldn't help a laugh from bubbling up. They were forced to separate, but Kirishima didn't take his eyes off the other man.
“Was I that damn bad?” Bakugou asked, but he was smiling too. Kirishima giggled and sat fully upright, scooting as close to Bakugou as humanly possible without fully sitting in his lap.
“Finally,” they said in unison, lips meeting for the second time. Bakugou's were soft, and soon enough, Kirishima had licked the taste of raspberry away. They found a rhythm, a push and pull that Bakugou insisted on leading. Not that Kirishima minded. He cupped the blond's cheeks, feeling Bakugou's hands on his biceps, fingers twitching against his skin. Kirishima had half a mind to tease him, knowing that Bakugou's hands were only ever shaky when he was nervous, but decided against it. Maybe later, when he managed to pull himself away from this. Away from Bakugou. He was addicting, every bit of him. From his lips to his hands to his explosions to his eyes to the not-so-physical bits. His intelligence, his determination. The way he loved so fiercely and pretended that he didn't. Kirishima didn't think he could ever get enough of him.
This time, it was Bakugou who moved back, until their noses were brushing against each other. "You're a fucking—you're a fucking idiot," he said breathlessly, gaze flicking between Kirishima's lips and eyes. His face was flushed, cheeks the color of apples, calling Kirishima to kiss them. He did, smiling against Bakugou's skin when the blond let out a little sigh of contentment.
"Get off," Bakugou grumbled, half-heartedly pushing Kirishima away, still blushing furiously. Neither of them said anything for a second. They simply sat, tangled in each other's arms, and stared. Bakugou's eyes flitted over Kirishima's face, catching on what the redhead knew was the scar over his right eye. In turn, Kirishima couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from Bakugou's mouth. His tongue, just barely peeking out between his lips.
Pale fingers found their home against Kirishima’s cheek, sweeping over his cheekbone and trailing a path down to his jaw, his parted lips, back up to his ear. Bakugou mapped his features with an intensity in his eyes that had Kirishima frozen in place, even though his touch was featherlight. After a moment, Kirishima realized that his lover was tracing lines between the moles on his face.
“Playing connect-the-dots, eh?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou snickered, raising his other hand to hold Kirishima’s head in place as he inspected him.
“Hold still,” he murmured. He sat back on his haunches, laying Kirishima down onto his back on the blanket and looming over him. Before the redhead could ask, Bakugou leaned down, pressing his lips just above Kirishima’s right temple. Next was his left cheekbone, and so on, finding each and every dot on his face, placing tender kisses to all of them like Kirishima would die if he didn't.
“You can't do this to me,” Kirishima said in a strangled voice. He tried to cover his flushed face, but Bakugou caught his wrists before he could and sent him a withering glare.
“Don't you fucking dare,” he said lowly. “Just shut up and stay still.”
“‘Kay,” Kirishima mumbled. He was embarrassed, but he couldn't deny that all these kisses, all this attention, wasn't making him feel like he was floating on cloud nine.
Bakugou continued his quest, and after kissing each of Kirishima’s moles, moved onto his nose, and his ears, and his eyelids, and—Kirishima loved him so much. Eventually, he waved Bakugou off, laughing when the blond rolled his eyes and fake-pouted. At least, Kirishima hoped it was fake. Just in case, he decided that it was his turn to lavish kisses on the other, and the two of them ended up forgetting about the food, too caught up in each other.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima gasped, pulling away. Their arms were wrapped around each other, preventing them from pulling too far away, and Kirishima didn't dare let Bakugou go. “Katsuki,” he corrected. “You mean—you mean everything to me, you know that? I love you so fucking much. Will you be my boyfriend?”
“Might as well,” Bakugou sighed. Long-suffering, as if he was doing Kirishima a favor. The redhead rolled his eyes, knowing how insincere that sentiment was. “You're okay, I suppose. And you're not the ugliest guy in the world. If I squint."
Kirishima laughed loudly, flicking his new boyfriend's forehead and kissing the shit-eating grin off of his face. “Har har, asshole. God, I've been waiting so damn long for this.”
“Believe me, I know,” Bakugou growled, falling forward onto Kirishima’s chest and squeezing him tighter. “And I'm not a patient fucking person.”
Kirishima gave him a look. “I don't know about that. You seem pretty patient to me.”
“ Fine, you stupid shitty-haired idiot. I'm not a patient person unless it’s you, happy?” Bakugou demanded, tackling Kirishima to the ground and squirming on top of him until he was comfortable in Kirishima’s arms. Kirishima was still processing his words, and Bakugou was not having it. “Fucking do this properly, damn it!”
“Sorry!” Kirishima yelped, muscles jumpstarting into action. He hugged Bakugou tightly, rocking them back and forth and just barely resisting from kissing him senseless. “You just—you can't say things like that, Katsuki!”
“I'll say whatever I damn well want, Eiji,” Bakugou said.
E-Eiji?
“Okay. Yes, that’s okay. I love you,” Kirishima squeaked.
Bakugou lifted his head, watching Kirishima silently for a couple seconds before nodding to himself. He flipped onto his stomach, eliciting an oof from the redhead, and straddled Kirishima’s waist, leaning over his face to meet his eyes. Kirishima looked up at him, slowly placing his hands on Bakugou’s hips. They stared at each other, one pair of red eyes narrowed and thoughtful, the other apprehensive and awe-struck. Bakugou was…
“You're beautiful,” Kirishima whispered. Back lit by the now fully-risen sun, Bakugou’s hair looked like a flaming halo around his head, and his eyes were a deep crimson, boring into Kirishima’s own.
“Eijirou,” Bakugou said. “I want you by my side forever. I'm not letting you go, you got that?”
Eternity. Kirishima could do that.
“I want to watch every sunrise with you,” Kirishima said. “I'm with you, Katsuki. Forever.”
“Forever.”