Archive of Our Own

Bakugou had done a lot of crazy shit in his twenty two years of life, but riding a dragon was by far the craziest. It wasn't that he didn't trust Kirishima to not buck him off, but for the first few rides, Bakugou just couldn't shake the fact that he was hundreds of feet in the air, and that so much as a strong gust of wind could send him free-falling.

Not that he was scared.

“Aw man!” Kirishima shouted excitedly, bounding over to where Bakugou was and collapsing onto the grass beside him, breathing heavily. “That was epic, dude! I was like fwoosh and you were like agh! and that was so fun! You alright to go again?” he asked, cheerful and bright, like Bakugou hadn’t tumbled down a hill upon landing. For a moment, the blond wasn't sure how to respond. With Kirishima’s eyes nearly squinted shut from his wide smile and the pretty flush to his cheeks, Bakugou couldn't take his eyes off of him. It wasn't until Kirishima leaned over him, concerned, that he jump started into action.

“Could’a fuckin’ killed me,” Bakugou snapped. He shot to his feet, patting down his disheveled hair and dusting his clothes off, tongue clicking at the grass stains. Kirishima laughed, masking it not-so-subtly with a cough, which Bakugou ignored. “Of course I'm going again! Some dumb wind isn't going to best me!”

“…wind?” Kirishima asked, and Bakugou realized that as good as the shifter was at parsing his moods, he didn't actually have mind reading powers, and probably had no idea what Bakugou’s hang ups were.

“Yes, wind! What happens if I fall off ‘n you don't even notice?” Bakugou asked indignantly.

“I think I’d notice if you fell, Bakugou, you're pretty heavy!” Kirishima chirped, slapping a hand to Bakugou’s bicep and squeezing. “What with all this muscle and all.”

Bakugou blanched, shoving the redhead away from him and grumbling under his breath. Sometimes, he wondered if Kirishima knew half the implications of the shit he said. Did he go around feeling up random strangers? Were dragon customs different from human ones? Did he really think Bakugou was muscular?

“Anyway,” Kirishima continued, as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. “If you fall, I’ll just catch you, but you won't. If you hold onto my horns—don’t give me that look, man. I know you've been holding on, but you don't know everything about riding a dragon! ‘Sides, I'm not letting you get a saddle, so you need to listen to me!”

“What do you mean no saddle?” Bakugou demanded. “That would make everything easier.”

“No saddle,” Kirishima insisted, eyebrows drawn together and jaw set. “I'm not a horse. Or a mule, or a donkey, or a cow, or an ox, or—”

“You are an ass, though,” Bakugou mumbled. He probably deserved the head swat he received, but still, Kirishima was just being unfair. “When I fall of and fuckin’ die, it’s your fault, got it?”

“You mean to tell me that Bakugou Katsuki can't figure out how to ride a dragon?” Kirishima scoffed. It was obvious what he was doing, turning away with a dramatic eye roll only to immediately look back at Bakugou, eyes dragging up and down his entire frame, judging him. It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. If he thought Bakugou would fall for that, he was stupid.

“Go die,” Bakugou snapped.

“I thought you were stronger,” Kirishima continued, sighing heavily. “But I guess nobody is good at everything. If I had known you were scared of heights I wouldn't have—”

“Who’s scared of heights?” Bakugou roared, stalking over to Kirishima and jabbing a finger at his chest, practically steaming from the ears. “I'm not scared. Fuck you, you stupid fucking lizard, I'm going to be the best dragon rider out there, you hear that? I'll fucking ride you to death! ”

Only after Kirishima didn't respond for a couple seconds did Bakugou realize what he had said, instantly recoiling and scrubbing a hand down his flushed face. “That’s not what I meant! ”

“Okay!” Kirishima squeaked, face nearly matching his hair and hands waving around frantically. “No yeah, I totally get you, it’s cool. Um, let’s try again, yeah?”

“Whatever.”

Bakugou sure hoped that Kirishima didn't hear the waver in his voice. He needed to get himself under control, but…ever since he had held Kirishima’s hand, Bakugou had been looking for reasons to do it again. He wasn't bold enough to outright ask, however much he wanted to. After all, Kirishima didn't either, and he had been the one to reach out to Bakugou first. Maybe Kirishima didn't want to anymore. Was Bakugou’s hand too sweaty? Too dangerous? Too rough?

He didn't know.

He really wanted to know.

“You okay?” Kirishima called, snapping Bakugou out of his thoughts. He was already standing at the edge of the cliff, ready to shift and allow the hunter onto his back.

“Yeah,” Bakugou grunted. He jogged over, motioning for Kirishima to continue, and took a deep breath. If he didn't get over this stupid hand-holding shit, he could ruin things with the shifter permanently. Bakugou couldn't take that risk, which meant—

Nothing. You'll do nothing, he decided, watching Kirishima shoot him a wide smile before shifting into his dragon form and bopping Bakugou’s chest with his head.

This was enough. It had to be.

-

Much to Kirishima’s dismay, they ended up buying a saddle. Bakugou should have realized that the issue was important to him from the first discussion they had about it, but it wasn't until Kirishima got strangely quiet after they bought it that he realized he had entirely misjudged the situation. He just didn't know how yet.

“Stop moping!” Bakugou yelled, chasing after the redhead, who was speed walking away from him, while also lugging the saddle. “Fuckin—Kirishima!”

“I'm mad at you!” Kirishima called over his shoulder, breaking into a slight jog. Bakugou couldn't run with his arms full, so he decided to interrogate Kirishima back at the inn they were staying at. If it was something stupid like a saddle being too heavy or too rough or too uncomfortable, Bakugou was going to lose it. They could always just get a different one, one that was none of those things, but Kirishima had refused to participate in picking out which one he wanted, which meant he was going to deal with whatever Bakugou purchased.

It took less than ten minutes for him to get there, throwing open their room door to find Kirishima curled on his side, facing the wall.

“Idiot,” Bakugou snarled. Unceremoniously, he dumped the saddle onto the floor and stalked over to Kirishima’s bed. His shoulders tensed, but stubbornly, he refused to look at Bakugou. “Oi, I'm talking to you!”

“I don't care,” came the snapped response. Kirishima’s tone made Bakugou balk for a second. He couldn't remember if the redhead had ever actually been annoyed with him before, but by the sound of it, he was well into pissed off territory by now. “You never listen when I talk, why should I?”

“The fuck does that even mean? Why are you so upset about a damn saddle? You want me flying off your fucking back, dumbass?”

“I shouldn't have to explain why something makes me upset!” Kirishima said loudly, sitting upright and glaring at Bakugou, who blinked in surprise at the sheen of wetness in the shifter’s eyes. A wave of deja vu overcame the hunter. It was exactly like back at the village, in Camie’s inn, when Kirishima had been so torn up over losing the fight that he had cried himself to sleep. God, Bakugou hated this. It wasn't right for someone so…so bright to cry.

“I told you I didn't want to wear one! I don't like—”

Kirishima stopped, choking the words down and averting his gaze to the mattress.

“Kirishima,” Bakugou sighed. Gingerly, he sat at the edge of the bed, waiting until Kirishima’s eyes were on him to continue. “Dragons are not made for riding. I'm okay with low speed flight, but it’s impossible to get a good grip on your scales, even if I'm holding onto your horns. That’s why dragon saddles were made.”

“Don't be condescending. I know what they're for,” Kirishima said petulantly.

“Then tell me what about them you don't like,” Bakugou pressed, leaning forward slightly. “I don't get it, but I want to.”

After a moment of deliberation, Kirishima let out a huff of annoyance. “It’s like you said,” he muttered. “Dragons aren't made for riding. If I wear a saddle, everyone who sees me is going to think that you…that you own me. That I'm your pet. Your mount. I won't be taken seriously, I’ll be considered your servant. You said we were equals, Bakugou. We can't be equals with this,” he finished, gesturing wildly at the lump of leather in the corner. Bakugou’s eyes followed his arm, more out of awkwardness than anything else. He had no idea that connotations such as that had ever existed, and now, after Kirishima finally admitted what was troubling him, the hunter had no idea how to respond.

Seeing that Bakugou wasn't planning on saying anything, more out of fear of saying the wrong thing than anything else, Kirishima scoffed, and moved to turn away again.

“Should've known…” he mumbled, the rest of his sentence too quiet for Bakugou to pick up. Just as he was about to lay down again, Bakugou’s hand shot out, closing around Kirishima’s wrist and tugging him back up.

“Wait,” he blurted.

Kirishima waited, a single eyebrow raised, while Bakugou shifted uncomfortably.

“I'm sorry,” Bakugou said finally. “I didn't realize it was something so serious, I thought—I don't know what I thought.”

He shuffled closer, sliding his hand from Kirishima’s wrist to his palm, and laced their fingers together. It was harder than he expected to drag his gaze up to meet Kirishima’s, but once he did, he couldn't pull himself away. “We are equals, Red,” he murmured. “And I'll make sure that everyone who meets us knows that, until the whole damn world knows of Katsuki and Eijirou. You will be respected,” he promised. “Whoever dares disrespect you will have to go through both of us.”

“Both of us?” Kirishima asked, voice thankfully lightened to something less upset. “That’s not how the saying goes.”

“For us it is,” Bakugou said, smiling wryly. “I love to beat people up and you're strong enough to not take shit from any assholes.”

Finally, a toothy smile split over Kirishima’s face, at odds with his red-rimmed eyes but beautiful nonetheless. Bakugou hardly had time to ruminate over the fact that he had just thought of Kirishima as beautiful before the shifter was letting out a laugh that made Bakugou’s heart skip a beat.

“Okay,” Kirishima said. “Okay. I'll wear the saddle.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure. As long as you promise to correct everyone who acts like I'm not there or refuses to trade with me, or anything like that, okay? Promise?”

“I promise,” Bakugou sighed, only hesitating a moment to link pinkies with Kirishima, who beamed at him. “We’re partners.”

“Partners,” Kirishima echoed. Without any warning, he lurched forward, wrapping Bakugou up in a tight, fleeting hug that ended the moment Bakugou could even process what was happening. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the hunter grumbled. “You're not mad at me anymore?”

“Nope! Aw, Bakugou, I didn't know you cared so much!” Kirishima giggled, fake-swooning and collapsing onto the bed. Bakugou rolled his eyes, but instead of denying it like he was itching to do, he just shrugged.

“Well, I do, so deal with it. I don't like seeing you crying,” he mumbled. “And not over dumb things either! This is one thing, but you better not start crying every time I beat you in a fight, idiot.”

At that, Kirishima got a strange look on his face. “Huh?”

“You heard me, shitty dragon.”

“No, wait, Bakugou—” Kirishima sat upright, scooching forward slightly. “I wasn't upset because I lost.”

“You—what? Why, then?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” the redhead sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, blushing slightly. “Don't make fun of me, okay? Please?” He pleaded. Bakugou said nothing; after meeting Kaminari, he knew better than to promise things like that. Half the time he was rolling on the floor laughing at whatever idiotic things the bard had gotten up to.

“I just…I didn't want you thinking I was weak,” Kirishima explained, head hanging. “I wanted to travel with you and thought I had no chance since I lost.”

Before Bakugou could ask why he wanted to stay with him after knowing him for less than a week, Kirishima continued. “All my friends have left my village already. Dragons aren't supposed to stay with their family once they're my age, so I would have had to leave and find someone new to travel with, new things to do. I didn't want to do that when I already had you. I’ve considered you a friend since the day I met you, Bakugou, that’s why I was crying.”

That was…a lot. Nothing expected, for sure, but Bakugou couldn't deny that Kirishima’s words left a fuzzy feeling in his gut. ‘ I already had you’, Kirishima had said. Somehow, within the few days that they had known each other, he already started liking Bakugou? Even Bakugou’s best friends hadn't warmed up to him that quickly.

“Are you going to say something?” Kirishima whispered. He sniffled softly, and with a jolt, Bakugou realized he had been silent for far too long. “I know it’s probably pathetic, but—”

“It’s not pathetic,” Bakugou interrupted. “I'm just…surprised, I guess. This whole time I thought you were just a sore loser. You don't have to be sad anymore, Kirishima. We’re friends, and I'm never going to think of you as weak. Never.”

As hard as emotions were for Bakugou, he knew enough to know that this was what Kirishima needed right now. Reassurance that he meant more to Bakugou than just being a dragon or a convenient ride. Sure enough, the shifter’s eyes were shiny again as he stared at Bakugou, open-mouthed. “Bakugou…” he said quietly, trailing off.

“It’s whatever, don't make a big— oi! ”

Kirishima jumped on Bakugou, rocking them back and forth in his bear hug, practically squealing in Bakugou’s ear. This was a lot nicer than the quick embrace from before. “You big dumb softy! Oh man, I like you so much, Bakugou!”

Just as Bakugou was about to get his hopes up, Kirishima continued, dashing them against the ground. “You're the best friend in the whole world, you know that?”

“I'm the best,” Bakugou agreed sullenly, limp in Kirishima’s arms. So much for that particular endeavor. It was whatever, of course. He didn't really care.

Everything was just fine.

-

Everything was not fine. ‘Fine’ wasn't even in the past couple days’ vocabulary, that was how not fine everything was going.

For Bakugou, at least. Kirishima was doing absolutely fucking peachy, mooning over the boring Black Dragon shifter who worked at Fatgum’s as if Bakugou wasn't right fucking there, seething into his milkshake. It was a stupid name for a mug of milk and strawberries mashed up together, but the owner of the establishment, Fatugm himself, had promised with a wink that it was ‘gonna be big,' and refused to think otherwise despite Bakugou’s fiery protests.

Worst of all was the knowing look on Fat’s face, as if he knew why Bakugou was so upset when even Bakugou didn't know why he was so upset.

That wasn't entirely true. He knew, but he didn't like it. Kirishima wasn’t obligated to spend time with him, obviously, but that didn't stop Bakugou from hating every laugh or shoulder-touch he bestowed upon this Amajiki, who clearly didn't know what they were worth. He should be honored to have Kirishima’s attention, but instead, he was cowering in the corner, forcing the redhead to coax him out to even hold a conversation with the guy. It was ridiculous.

“Y’know, you're never going to make friends with that scowl of yours,” a voice said conversationally. Bakugou’s eye twitched as he resisted the urge to blow the entire restaurant to pieces.

“Not lookin’ to make friends,” he grunted. “Piss off.”

“I bet you weren't looking for friends when you met Red over there, eh? Yet here you are, glaring at my boyfriend like a jealous lover.”

“My shitty lizard is not your boyf—” Bakugou started hotly, finally looking at the speaker, and it’s only then that it clicks; he most definitely meant the other shitty lizard. Oops.

“‘Your’ lizard, huh?” Blondie chuckled, and Bakugou was more than aware that he wasn't in the position to be calling someone ‘blondie’, but he was too busy stammering out excuses and denials of what he said to care. “Look, there’s no reason to get jealous, alright? Tamaki and I have been together for years, man. You've got nothing to worry about. Well, except for making Red sad over how you're acting.”

“I wasn't worried,” Bakugou scoffed, before the last sentence registered in his brain. “Wait. What? I haven't been acting like anything, this is just how I am, fuck off.”

“No no, dude, he said something about it. He was all like—” here, Blondie rubbed the back of his neck in a near perfect imitation of a nervous Kirishima. “‘Sorry about Bakugou, he’s not usually so grumpy. He’s a great guy, deep down, you just have to get to know him! We’ve been traveling together for a couple months, and I couldn't ask for a better partner!’”

Bakugou wasn't sure if he should be offended over the ‘deep down’ or flattered that even when he was being an asshole, Kirishima sung his praises.

“That’s quoted?” He questioned, squinting suspiciously. Blondie grinned, shooting him a thumbs up, and plopped down onto the stool next to him.

“Yeah. You should go and socialize, man!”

“With who, you?” Bakugou asked, rolling his eyes. “I don't even know your name—”

“I'm Togata Mirio!”

“—That wasn't an invitation to tell me. I don't care.”

“You're a tough nut to crack, huh?” Mirio doesn't look too torn up about it, not that Bakugou would have given a shit if he did. “All I'm saying is to not be such a downer over Kirishima and Tamaki. They're both dragon shifters, and Red still has a lot to learn.”

“Stop calling him that,” Bakugou snapped without thinking.

“What, Red?” Mirio asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Just…don’t.”

“Oh,” Mirio said, grinning widely at whatever realization he had just come to. “It’s your thing, isn't it? No worries man, he’s just Kirishima to me.”

“Good,” Bakugou huffed. When Mirio stood up, Bakugou followed, ignoring the pleasantly surprised look from the other man. The two of them weaved between tables until they reached the dragon shifters, both of whom lit up at the sight of them.

“Bakugou!”

“Mirio!”

Kirishima slung an arm around Bakugou’s shoulders, nudging him until he offered a hand to Tamaki, who looked at it like it was a dirty shoe. “I'm Bakugou,” Bakugou gritted out, wiggling his fingers impatiently. Tamaki nodded, just barely brushing his hand against Bakugou’s before dropping it and muttering out his name. Thank god that was over.

As Kirishima regaled the older two with exaggerated accounts of his and Bakugou’s adventures thus far, the blond watched him, entranced with the way his eyes twinkled and his hands gestured. He didn't even mind it when the first look Tamaki sent him that wasn't drenched in fear was soft, of all things. He didn't even mind when Kirishima poked him and said ‘ hey, you're a good buddy even though you're an asshole ’, or when he begged Tamaki to teach him how to scorch meat just right with his flames.

Bakugou knew he was never going to be Kirishima’s only friend. Hell, Kirishima wasn't even his only friend, but that was okay. They didn't have to be the only people there for each other as long as they were there for each other, and Bakugou knew he didn't have to worry about that. He had Kirishima’s back, and the shifter didn't hide the fact that it went both ways.

And, hey. If Bakugou found himself admiring Kirishima’s human form even more than his dragon one? No one had to know.

-

When Bakugou originally thought having a dragon at his side might be a good idea, he wasn't even a little bit prepared for what it would actually be like, fighting next to Kirishima. There was the knowledge that dragons were big and scary and strong and the knowledge that Kirishima could hold his own even in human form, but neither of those facts were enough to understand what it would feel like.

“Bakugou,” Kirishima said suddenly, halting in his tracks and nearly making Bakugou run into him. Before the hunter could so much as open his mouth, Kirishima held up a hand, taking one step forward and turning his head every which way.

“What?” Bakugou asked, taking the risk—though he didn't yet know what the risk was.

Slowly, Kirishima turned back to face him. His small eyebrows were furrowed, but Bakugou couldn't place what was going on in his mind. “I smell someone.”

“How many?”

It hadn't taken long into their friendship for Bakugou to realize that it was pointless to doubt Kirishima when he was this sure of something, especially if it had to do with his dragon senses. After all, he was the one who always managed to navigate them to campsites full of people who didn't mind taking them in, on the nights that they didn’t find shelter in time.

“I can't—they have to be using a spell,” Kirishima responded, nose scrunching as he tried to piece together what he was smelling. “They're masking their footsteps. There’s a lot, I think, but I can't really tell,” he said helplessly, looking up at Bakugou, dismay evident on his face. Bakugou shrugged.

“‘S fine,” he said. “We were going to go find out, anyway. What makes you so sure they're hostile?”

“I smell fear,” the shifter whispered, shivering slightly. Bakugou couldn't imagine what fear smelled like, but he didn't think it would be pleasant. “It’s a very… centralized locat—no, that’s not the word. I don't know, it’s only coming from a couple places, not the whole group, but it’s—it’s strong? I think.”

“You think or you know?”

“I know, ” Kirishima amended, making Bakugou’s lip quirk up. For someone so strong, someone so powerful, Kirishima had a hard time being sure of himself and his abilities. It was nice to hear him confident. “The fear is strong, Bakugou. I know that much, at least.”

“Okay,” Bakugou said easily. “They've probably got captives, in that case. Come on, Red.”

“I'm thinking bandits,” Kirishima continued as they changed course, heading in the direction of the group. He held out a hand, accepting one of the charms that Miruko’s top spy had once given Bakugou. It was after a sparring match, when the two were cooling down and Bakugou had finally accepted her as a worthy opponent, despite not knowing who she was at the time. Well, he didn't hold it against himself. Her job was to remain anonymous and unseen.

Essentially, it was an invisibility charm; similar to what the bandits probably had, but stronger, considering Hagakure Tooru swore by it.

“Under the shirt, dumbass,” Bakugou scoffed, reaching over to fix Kirishima’s collar. “It only works if it’s touching your skin.”

“‘Course! Thanks, man!” Kirishima’s voice was oddly strained. He cleared his throat, and it was only then that Bakugou realized how hot the skin of his chest was under his fingers, and snatched his hands away.

“Whatever.”

They trekked through the woods, finding traces of a traveling group. They were good; despite Kirishima being increasingly sure that there were, at the very least, nine or ten of them, there was next to nothing indicating which direction they were going. It was only thanks to Kirishima’s sense of smell and Bakugou’s expert tracking abilities that they didn't lose the bandits.

And then they heard them.

“Looks like they've stopped,” Bakugou muttered. Despite the heavy weight of the charm around his neck, he was careful as he edged forward, keen ears listening for signs of anyone coming near them. After a few minutes, he deemed it safe to continue. Distant sounds of laughter and shouting echoed through the woods.

“There are two captives,” Kirishima said, nodding to himself. “I can smell their fear. Two captives and…eight? Seven or eight bad guys.”

Only Kirishima would refer to people as bad guys in real life. Bakugou sighed, barely refraining from rolling his eyes, and gestured forward. As they neared the group, the sounds from the bandits masked any noise that they might have been making, even without the charm.

“They're stupid,” Bakugou snorted. “They haven't even sent out a scout to make sure the area is safe.”

“Don't jinx it!” Kirishima whisper-yelled, swatting his arm.

Without any more preamble, the two of them weaved between the trees until they reached the bandits. Lo and behold; nearly all of them were already wasted.

Just as Kirishima had said, there were two captives, only instead of seven bandits, there were eleven. Bakugou wanted to snap at the shifter for getting the count so off, but judging by the paleness to his face and averted eyes, he was feeling guilty enough, so Bakugou stayed quiet. The captives were bound together by the wrists, forced to sit in the middle of the group, presumably so that they could be watched, but the bandits weren't exactly doing a great job. Only two of them were looking anywhere near the captives, but they were whispering and giggling to each other like a pair of idiots.

Bakugou didn't need to jinx anything. Even if they had sent out a patrol, no doubt they would trip over their own damn feet before they could pull out a sword.

Still, there were eleven of them, and Bakugou had fought enough people to know that some acted a lot drunker than they really were. He was proven right when he and Kirishima attacked, and seven of the bandits jumped to their feet instantly.

“Who’re you?” One of them slurred. “Fuck off or we’ll kill ya’.”

“Uh huh,” Bakugou scoffed. “Let them go,” he demanded, pointing to the prisoners with his sword. The one closest to him edged back, the bastard, and the other one—she looked to be his sister—just watched Bakugou carefully.

Naturally, they were not let go.

Three of the bandits attacked Bakugou at once, and though he wasn't facing Kirishima, the grunts he heard from behind told him that the others had attacked his partner. There were too many on him to turn and help, so Bakugou focused on what was right in front of him; three assholes who needed a good ass-kicking.

Bakugou had assumed he would make quick work of them, but they were fast on their feet, and when one of them pulled out a surprise knife, he nearly got gutted.

“Damn it,” Bakugou swore. The second he downed one of them, another took their place, jumping on his back and attempting to choke him to death. Thankfully, this guy was one of the drunker ones, and Bakugou shook him off easily enough with an explosion to his side.

“I'm going to kill you,” one of them promised, landing a well-placed punch to his jaw. Bakugou scowled, throwing the guy over his shoulder and kicking him in the head for good measure. Before he could so much as turn around, the other two were leaping forward. One of them tried to grab his hands, presumably to stop him from aiming any explosions. A laughable thought, really. Bakugou figured that if someone was stupid enough to try that, they deserved third-degree burns.

It worried him, though. Only four of the bandits had come after him, what about the oth—

Suddenly, a loud roar shook the trees. Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou could see the surprise on both captive’s faces. After knocking the last guy out cold, Bakugou spun around to see Kirishima in all his dragon glory, batting the bandits away like flies.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. It was incredible. The two guys who were sitting on the sidelines too drunk to stand were the only ones not attacking; the other five? Kirishima mowed them down faster than Bakugou had ever seen. A huge gust of fire scorched the grass under the bandits’ feet, leaving them yelping and falling over themselves to get away. Kirishima set their pants on fire, and Bakugou just knew that if he asked, Kirishima would tell him ‘ just for fun! ’

The fight was over in seconds.

“Holy shit, ” Bakugou repeated. He ran up to Kirishima, fist pumping in the air, and for once, didn't mind the fact that he was smiling so hard it hurt. “That was fuckin’ awesome, Shitty Hair! Complete wipe out, what the fuck.”

Kirishima trilled, jumping up and down, making the ground tremble from the force of his excitement. A huge, red dragon head leaned down, bumping against Bakugou and almost knocking him over. The hunter laughed, obediently scratching behind Kirishima’s ears.

“Amazing,” he said quietly. “You're amazing, Red.”

In his arms, Kirishima’s form shrunk, until Bakugou’s fingers were petting human ears. The shifter beamed at him.

“You really think so?” He whispered.

“Duh.”

"I'm sorry I was so off," the shifter muttered, eyes downcast. "I really messed up. I'm sure that if these guys weren't already half-drunk it would have been a real problem. God, I really thought that sword was going to get you," he said, shuddering.

"So you have something to work on," Bakugou agreed. "Big deal. We're fine right now, and that's all that matters."

“Excuse me?” A voice came from behind. Bakugou scowled, ready to yell at whoever interrupted the moment, before realizing that they had yet to untie the prisoners, and swallowed his complaint. Kirishima was looking at him in wonder, presumably hung-up on what he had just said, so Bakugou elbowed him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry about that!” Kirishima yelped, hurrying over to the captives with Bakugou on his heels. “My name’s Kirishima Eijirou, what’s yours?”

“I'm Asari Fumihiro, and this is my sister Kamei.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kirishima said warmly. He and Bakugou untied the siblings, helping them stand when they saw that they were both injured. Kamei’s ankle was twisted in a way it most definitely should not have been, and Asari looked like he had a nasty concussion.

“Thank you,” Kamei sighed. “The leader of this gang—the one who you burned—” she told Bakugou. “Wanted to collect the money my parents owed him early. We were taken as ransom.”

“We can walk you to the nearest town,” Bakugou offered gruffly, pointedly ignoring the delighted look Kirishima sent him. “That okay?”

“That’s perfect ,” Asari said. “Thank you both so much.”

“Your dragon form looks awesome,” Kamei added. Kirishima smiled at her, slamming his fists together in his signature pose.

“Thanks!” He chirped.

“Is everyone done thanking each other?” Bakugou grumbled. “Fucking gross.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima giggled. “He loves you guys, really. Hey, why don't you guys take what you need from the gang? If they have food, or jewelry you can sell, or anything like that, okay?”

This time, it was Kirishima ignoring Bakugou’s look. The siblings grinned toothily at each other and hobbled over to the bandits, murmuring to each other about what to take. Bakugou was pretty sure he heard Kamei say something about stealing their boots.

“You endorse thieving, now?” He asked Kirishima, an amused lilt to his voice.

“From assholes like these guys? No question,” Kirishima snorted. For a moment, they simply stood, watching the other two laugh and poke at each other, before Kirishima finally spoke again.

“You know what I think?” He asked.

“You think?”

“I think— ” Kirishima continued, as if Bakugou had never spoken. “That we make a good team. A great team.”

“I think you might be right,” Bakugou agreed. He held out a hand for a fist bump, letting himself enjoy the hug that he knew would follow.

Yeah. He could get used to this.

-

Bakugou had a lot of flaws. It was an unfortunate fact, something that he usually ignored, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of them. For example, he couldn't eat meat unless it was well done. His friends liked to make fun of him for that one. There was also that issue with his second toe being slightly longer than his big toe, or the fact that his vision was just a little bit off in his right eye.

If you asked his friends or family, Bakugou knew they would probably list off some… other qualities of his, but he didn't consider any of those flaws. He wasn't aggressive, he was just passionate, that’s all.

What most definitely was a flaw was his fear of storms. Totally irrational, and something that had taken him a long time to come to terms with. They were just really fucking loud, and yeah, maybe he should be accustomed to loud noises with his explosion powers, but that was an entirely different thing. Storms were dark and cold and a little bit unsettling, but even then, just because the technical words for his… condition were ‘fear of storms’, he wasn't scared of them. There was a difference.

Kirishima, on the other hand, didn't seem to agree with him.

“Bakugou?” He asked nervously. The Bakugou in question grunted, busy snapping wood into little twigs to use as firewood. “Are you…are you mad at me?”

“ What? ” He snapped, in time with the wood. Kirishima winced, taking a small step back and raising his hands placatingly, casting his gaze to the ground. Sure, Bakugou might have been a little aggressive with the wood, but it couldn't have been that bad.

“Are you mad at me?” The shifter repeated, quieter this time. “I don't know what I did but I'm really sorry man, and could you please stop looking like you want to murder something, probably me, and like you're imagining someone’s neck in place of the firewood, probably mine, and—”

“Good god, idiot, shut up, ” Bakugou groaned. “I'm not fucking mad at you, alright? It’s just…it’s nothing.”

And then, because of that shitty imploring look Kirishima gave him, he sighed, and added: “I'm sorry for being an ass, okay?”

“It’s totally okay!” Kirishima assured him, but Bakugou just frowned, internally chiding himself for how nervous Kirishima had been to talk to him. Ever since that dumb witch Uraraka had given him a nice dressing down on his behavior, Bakugou realized that he didn't actually like it when people were afraid of him; it was just an unfortunate byproduct of his attitude. While there was no way he would sugar-coat his words, he knew there were other ways to get the people around him to trust him. Namely Kirishima. They were supposed to be partners. Partners didn't make each other nervous.

“It’s not okay,” Bakugou mumbled. “I'm sorry.”

“What’s wrong, then?” Kirishima asked, all traces of his tentativeness from before thankfully gone now as he sat beside Bakugou.

Face twisted up in discomfort, Bakugou deliberated for a moment, before deciding that Kirishima probably deserved an explanation. “You know that we had to stop to find shelter before the storm,” he started. They hadn't been so lucky to find a cave like their first storm together, back when they first met, but there was a ditch in the ground, more than a couple feet under the rest of the area, that was almost fully covered by an overhang made of forest floor. Bakugou wasn't sure what caused the ditch, but judging by how the roots draped over it, it wasn't natural. At least the roots would allow them to lean logs against it and block out the worst of the storm. It would be a tight fit, but Bakugou figured that was the least of his problems.

Gaze fixed on his boots, Bakugou almost missed Kirishima nodding, or the confused furrow to his brow. “I don't—I don't like storms,” Bakugou ground out. Speaking the words out loud felt like admitting defeat. “And I've just been fuckin’…anxious, I guess. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that the shifter wouldn't make a big deal about it, but his hopes were instantly shattered when Kirishima gasped. “You're scared of storms?” He yelled, eyes bugging out of his head. “ You? ”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou hissed. He shot to his feet, ears bright red and face flushed with anger. “Stupid fucking—”

“I didn't mean to make fun of—”

“I hate you, idiotic—”

“Wait, don't run off—”

“Go die for all I care—”

“Bakugou, come back! ”

Ignoring Kirishima’s calls, Bakugou stomped away until he couldn't hear them anymore before finally stopping. The one thing he didn't need was Kirishima thinking he was weak or stupid or lame. He knew that being afraid of storms was ridiculous, he didn't need Kirishima laughing at him for it. Asshole.

Bakugou was fully ready to stay away for another hour, which was when the storm was supposed to reach them, according to the warlock at the last village they had passed, but his plans were slightly derailed when the skies opened up above him an hour early.

Maybe Bakugou shouldn't have threatened the warlock with bodily harm. In any normal person’s case, getting hit with the storm a little earlier would be a minor annoyance at most, which was probably what the warlock intended, but for Bakugou? For him, separated from his partner, it was a nightmare .

As rain poured down around him, Bakugou ran back the way he came, frantically calling out for Kirishima the whole way. He didn't even want to think about what might have happened if he took any turns, but luckily, the path back to camp was a straight one.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou shouted, voice cracking with desperation as he ran. He nearly yelped when thunder crashed suddenly, drowning out any reply that might have been there, and ran even faster. He didn't want to be out here, not like this. Not alone. “Kirish— ”

“Bakugou?” Kirishima called. His words were nearly inaudible under everything else, but Bakugou’s head snapped towards him, relief flooding over him in waves. “Over here!”

Bakugou followed his voice, bursting through the trees mere moments later and colliding into the shifter, who immediately wrapped himself around Bakugou like a koala, arms and legs enveloping him. Instantly, the warmth from his body rolled over Bakugou, slowing his heartbeat from its panicked state to a calmer one. “Fuck you!” Kirishima exclaimed. “I was so worried! You can't just run off like that, idiot!”

Instead of responding, Bakugou just squeezed him tighter, breathing him in. Kirishima allowed it for just a couple seconds before urging him up. “Anyway, come over here, I fixed the place up a little bit.”

“What?” Bakugou asked. Shooting him a bright and somewhat apologetic smile, Kirishima pulled him to his feet and dragged him to the ditch, pushing aside a thick log so that they could get inside. Bakugou’s jaw dropped as he took in the excavated back end that was a lot deeper than it had been before. “What did you do?” He demanded.

“Like this,” Kirishima said, grinning widely at him. His hands dug through the air, miming what he had done (presumably in dragon form) to make the ditch bigger. “So we can sit even deeper inside! Far away from the booms! ”

As if on cue, a loud crack of thunder made Bakugou flinch. He cursed himself for making Kirishima’s smile fall, before remembering that he was mad at the guy, and that he shouldn't give a single shit if he was upset or not. Bakugou scowled, turning his back to Kirishima and sliding down the makeshift dirt-wall that really shouldn't have been there. In an effort to distract himself, Bakugou imagined the different scenarios that could have created it. Maybe someone else had to shelter from a storm. Maybe another dragon decided to dig up the earth for fun. Maybe some witch was testing out their power. Maybe—

“Bakugou?” Kirishima asked, interrupting his thoughts as he sat next to Bakugou, squirming around like he didn't know whether he should move closer or not. “I'm really sorry, man. I wasn't trying to make fun of you at all. Forgive me?” He pleaded.

“It’s whatever,” Bakugou said tightly, looking resolutely down at his hands so that Kirishima didn't have to see his face twist up every time lightning flashed. God, this was mortifying. Usually, Bakugou dealt with this shit just fine. He would stay ahead of the storms or hide out in whatever inn he was staying at, but whatever he did, he did alone. It was strange having someone else with him. Stranger still that Kirishima didn't seem to want to laugh at him.

For a couple minutes, they were quiet. Bakugou curled up on his side, facing away from Kirishima, and squeezed his eyes shut. His nails dug into this palm, distracting him from the deafening sounds of thunder crashing and the steady drumbeat of rainfall. Bakugou thought he was content with that, at least until he felt something brush along his back.

“What?” He asked, sitting up on his elbows, fully prepared to glare at Kirishima. Instead of the human form he was expecting, Kirishima was in his hybrid form, wings and talons beckoning him closer. Gingerly, Bakugou ducked under the red, leathery skin. Kirishima shuffled closer, bringing an arm around Bakugou’s shoulders and pulling them flush against one another, nestling his head into the crook of Kirishima’s neck.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” Bakugou managed, clutching onto his shirt. It was embarrassing, but Kirishima said nothing about it. He just turned his body to face Bakugou and circled his other arm around his waist. His wings wrapped around the both of them, acting like a warm, fleshy blanket. Bakugou shivered and tried not to think about it.

“If you want, I can shift into my dragon form,” Kirishima offered. They were close enough together that his voice hardly had to raise, even with the racket outside of their alcove. “It’s bigger, and since I dug this place out I’d be able to fit my head and…um, a little bit of my neck in here! And I could probably keep you warm too, and—”

“And what, leave your ass to freeze out in the rain?” Bakugou scoffed, poking the redhead’s chest. “Don't be stupid.”

Just hold me like this.

Bakugou had to stop himself from snuggling in closer, because as much as he wanted to, it just felt…weird. He had never wanted someone to hold him, had never wanted to be comforted, but there was something about Kirishima that made him want to ask for things like that. For whatever reason, being around the shifter made him stupidly soft.

Bakugou wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Even though he said nothing, Kirishima seemed to understand anyway. He nodded, one hand rubbing soothing circles on Bakugou’s back, and the other one gently scratching his hair.

“Bakugou?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me you won't run away like that again. Promise me, Bakugou, please. I thought—I was worried,” Kirishima said, voice hushed like it was a secret. “Really worried. Please?”

“Fine,” Bakugou managed. “Whatever. I won't.”

“Okay,” the shifter sighed, nuzzling his cheek into Bakugou’s hair, hand drifting down to cup his nape. Bakugou’s breath hitched, but Kirishima didn't move it any further. “It’ll be over soon,” Kirishima murmured. In this position, Bakugou couldn't nod his head, not unless he wanted to shrug Kirishima off of him, so he settled on a grunt.

Logically, he knew that the storm would end soon. Logically, he knew that he should be counting down the minutes until it did, but some small part of Bakugou kind of hoped it didn't.

-

“All men are not created equal.”

“Bakugou, you gotta let this go, man.”

“This isn't fair.”

“I know, but—”

“We can't be partners anymore, Red.”

“Don't even joke about that! After all we've been through?”

“That’s just how it is. Goodbye, Kirishima. I hope we meet in the next life.”

“You asshole, get back here! You're being so dramatic.”

“I said goodbye, dipshit, that means I'm going.”

“Bite me, Bakugou, I'm not letting you walk another damn step. If you want me to let go you have to sit your stupid butt down and get over it, for saint’s sake.”

Kirishima glared, both arms hooked around Bakugou’s torso, feet planted firmly in place. Bakugou couldn't immediately tell whether he was genuinely annoyed or not, but after a moment, the shifter couldn't keep his straight face, which meant it was safe to annoy him some more.

Letting himself fall limp, Bakugou sighed heavily, thoroughly enjoying Kirishima’s surprised grunt as he fell to the ground, not expecting the sudden weight. Neither of them moved from where they were tangled with one another.

“You done?” Kirishima asked finally, flicking Bakugou’s forehead.

“It’s not fair. You can't have both.”

“All shifters have both, Bakugou, that’s how it works.”

“Fuck that. Show me again, asshole.”

Bakugou rolled off of him, just enough so that Kirishima could rest his arm on his own torso, hardening it for Bakugou’s scrutinizing gaze to pick apart. “And you just got this power?” He demanded.

“Like, an hour ago, yeah.”

They had just barely woken up an hour ago, what was so special about that time? “Why then?” Bakugou asked, prodding at the sharp skin and pricking his finger on it. He hissed, drawing his stinging hand back, and glared at Kirishima as if it was his fault rather than Bakugou’s.

“No reason,” Kirishima dismissed. “It was, um, random?”

“You're a shitty liar,” Bakugou snorted, smacking him. “Tell me the truth. Why’d you all of a sudden develop these powers, eh? If all shifters get them, here has to be some kind of importance to the moment that they unlock the power. You said it happened at the end of your pilgrimage, right? Why was the end of it an hour ago? Why not now? Why not—”

“Stop,” Kirishima interrupted, a pained look on his face. “You're making my brain hurt with all your questions. It’s really nothing, man! Really.”

“‘Really,’” Bakugou mocked. “Yeah right. Fine, whatever. You don't want to tell me. I don't give a shit.”

He moved to stand, fully ready to stomp away and make Kirishima guilty for hiding things from him, but the redhead caught his wrist, tugging him back down. An arm circled Bakugou’s waist before he could even begin to process that his face was now smushed against Kirishima’s chest. Ignoring the fluttering in his stomach, Bakugou shot Kirishima a glare, but it seemed ineffective against him. Unfortunately, his stupid puppy dog eyes certainly weren't ineffective against Bakugou.

“Don't be mad,” Kirishima said softly. “It’s…personal. I just—I don't know if I can—I don't want—you might—”

“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou interrupted, wiggling onto his stomach and freeing both of his hands. He reached up, squishing Kirishima’s face between them, cracking a smile at the sight of his puffed up cheeks. “It’s fine. For real, this time. As long as you're not dying, I'm not dying, or anything bad is going to happen, I don't care if you keep it to yourself. I'm just pissed that you've got both dragon and human powers now. Twice as strong and yet still so stupid, eh?”

“Mean!” Kirishima yelped. He squeezed Bakugou tighter, as if he thought a bear hug was suitable punishment for his crimes, and stuck his tongue out. When Bakugou burst into laughter at the look on his face—tongue sticking out between smushed cheeks—Kirishima furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What?”

“You're ridiculous,” Bakugou told him. This time, when he stood, he held out a hand to Kirishima as well, which the shifter took with a bright smile.

“So you're done being all ‘woe is me,’ then?” Kirishima asked, the back of his hand smacking against his forehead as he flung an arm out and leaned back, features twisted up in some kind of awful imitation of misery, the kind play actors liked to display. He opened one eye, peeking at Bakugou to see his reaction and pouting when the hunter simply stared at him, unimpressed. “What, you can be dramatic but I can't?” He grumbled. “So unfair.”

“You want to know what’s unfa—”

“Bye! Going hunting!” Kirishima cut in, running to the opposite side of the clearing in an effort to get away from Bakugou’s complaints. The second before he disappeared beyond the tree line, Kirishima cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted: “Going hunting with my new, super cool powers! ”

And then he was gone.

God, Bakugou loved him.

“I hate you!” He shouted. All he got in response was the echo of a laugh, but at least he knew Kirishima heard him.

Bakugou rolled his eyes to himself as he trekked a couple minutes downwind, following the sound of the stream he had used to wash off the night before, and dumped his satchel on the ground before finally stripping off his belt. All of the knives clattered to the ground, some of them still rusty and caked with dried blood. It wasn't everyday they found a convenient water source in the wild.

It was only then, after he got into a rhythm of scrubbing the blades clean, that he realized his thoughts from before.

He loved Kirishima. Love. Bakugou Katsuki was in love.

It felt strange. For the first fifteen years of his life, Bakugou hadn't even thought about romance and love and girls or boys. For the next few, he certainly hadn't expected to ever be in love, though he could at least admit it wasn't necessarily a distraction. Just…not for him. The people around him hooked up and got together, but Bakugou’s status as forever alone was a constant; he didn't mind being made fun of (mainly by Kaminari, which was ironic) because love was never something he wanted.

But with Kirishima? Bakugou didn't want to leave his side. He wanted him to smile, to laugh, to win, and if that wasn't love, what was?

But he doesn't trust you, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered. He’s keeping something from you.

It was fine. It didn't matter. Gods knew Bakugou was keeping things from him, too. They had been traveling together for over half a year now, and Kirishima had proven time and time again that he trusted Bakugou, that they had each other’s backs. Bakugou refused to believe that Kirishima not telling him how his new power came to be was a sign that that was changing.

Bakugou shook his thoughts away and stood. A guy could only have so many knives. Seven, in Bakugou’s case, and those seven didn't take more than fifteen minutes to clean. When he got back to their camp, the last thing he expected to see was Kirishima, back from hunting so soon. He was on his knees, hunched over so far that his loose hair, normally down to mid-back, didn't just brush the ground; it pooled on it. The shifter’s body trembled fiercely, and he didn't seem to register Bakugou’s presence just yet.

“Kirishima?” Bakugou asked, maintaining a careful distance as he stepped closer. “What happened? Why are you already back?”

At the sound of his voice, a harsh gasp tore itself from the redhead’s throat. Bakugou watched with apprehension as Kirishima’s head lifted, so slow that it might not have been happening at all. When his face was finally visible, Bakugou suppressed a gasp of his own at the sight of hardened skin at the base of his throat.

“Ba—kugou?” Kirishima’s voice was…creaky. Nothing like Bakugou had ever heard before. “Didn't know whe—ere you were. Thought—missing.”

“What happened, Red?” Bakugou asked. Abandoning his caution, he rushed over to Kirishima’s side. When he reached for his hand, Kirishima reared back, the most sudden movement since the start of this conversation. When he looked up again, the rough skin had edged up, a hair’s breadth away from crawling up the underside of his chin.

“Stuck,” Kirishima choked out. He wasn't quite able to unlock his jaw fully, and the word came out disjointed. “Don't touch. Will hurt.”

I’m stuck. Don't touch me, I will hurt you.

“Bullshit,” Bakugou dismissed, covering Kirishima’s clenched fist with his hand, ignoring the sting in his palm. He could feel the skin tear, but refused to acknowledge it, lest Kirishima notice.

“Need to—focus—keep it…down.”

“You have to focus to keep your whole body from hardening?” Bakugou asked. Kirishima barely managed a nod, but that was enough for Bakugou. He felt along Kirishima’s torso, finding that some parts of his skin were hardened and others weren't, which was probably why he was sitting so stiffly like this. Bakugou couldn't imagine how hard it had to have been to walk all the way back here, assuming he got stuck while hunting.

“And you can't let it take over because…” Bakugou continued, looking off to the side as if the trees might have an answer for him. Kirishima opened his mouth, presumably to respond, but Bakugou pressed a finger against his lips. He ignored the rolling of his stomach and forced himself to remain calm, for Kirishima’s sake.

“I get it. Your whole body, right? Your insides are going to harden as well.”

“Yes,” Kirishima whispered. “Scared.”

God, what a fucking nightmare. To feel each and every one of your organs stiffen up, to feel the air in your lungs have nowhere to go, to feel your heart beating until it stopped. Bakugou considered the shaking boy in front of him, and somehow, the mountain of respect he had for Kirishima grew exponentially bigger. He was still trying to survive. He was going to fight it until he couldn't anymore.

Kirishima’s eyes were trained on the ground; Bakugou had known him long enough to know why exactly he couldn't bring himself to look at him, and clicked his tongue.

“Kirishima,” he said quietly, cupping the shifter’s face in his hands and ducking down to meet his eyes. “I’d be a little worried if you weren't scared, idiot, the only fearless people are stupid. So you can be scared, but also know that you'll be okay, Red. I'm right here. You'll be just fine. Look at me, Kirishima.”

He waited until Kirishima’s teary gaze was fixed on him, and let his mouth curl into a soft smile.

“I'm going to be right here, and I'm going to help you figure it out, okay? Okay.”

Kirishima nodded as best as he could, chin wobbling furiously as he tried to keep it together. “Ba—kugou,” he said. Nothing else, just his name. Bakugou sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead to Kirishima’s, and tried to think. His own power—and most of his friends’, judging by their descriptions—worked like a muscle. It wasn't something to turn off, necessarily, but to relax. When he wasn't using it, it wasn't taking up any of his energy.

“Kiri? Are you listening to me? I want you to try something.”

The shifter didn't answer, but his eyes were locked on Bakugou’s, widening with hope that he might have an idea.

“I know you've been pushing it down. You've been using the muscle, Kirishima. You have to let it go. You have to relax the very same thing you're trying to suppress.”

From the look on his face, it was clear he didn't get it, though Bakugou blamed that more on his shoddy wording rather than a fault on Kirishima’s part. He huffed out a frustrated breath and tried again.

“Your power. You can feel it, right? The same way you can feel when your arm is flexing? My powers have gone haywire before too, I think this is the same thing. By trying to suppress it, you're actually ‘tensing the muscle’, so to speak. It’s just a shitty ass loop. You try to turn it off and instead keep it going, you get it?”

With bated breath, Bakugou waited and watched, scanning Kirishima’s features for signs of understanding, before—

“Yes.”

"Thank fuck," Bakugou groaned. "That's how my magic works, and I was hoping yours was the same, since it's technically human magic. You have to let go, Kirishima. Relax the muscle. It'll be scary, I know that, but if you feel like it's not working, just stop it again, okay?"

"Yes."

"You can do this," Bakugou assured him, stroking a hand along his still soft cheekbone. He held Kirishima’s gaze as the shifter pursed his lips, clearly struggling, though whether he was already trying to let go of the hardening or just psyching himself up to it, Bakugou didn't know. After a moment, Kirishima blew out a sharp breath and slumped forward, forehead hitting Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Can't,” he choked out. “Scared.”

With one hand smoothing Kirishima’s wild hair down, Bakugou nodded, cradling Kirishima to his body with the other. Hardening rippled up and down Kirishima’s skin, breaking through his shirt in some places, and one particularly harsh spike cutting into Bakugou’s hand. It would be a bitch to explode anything anytime soon, but Bakugou found that was the least of his worries right now.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “Whenever you're ready. If you want, I can knock you out if it doesn't work again. You shouldn't be able to harden while unconscious.”

“Please,” Kirishima said, sitting upright again. “Again. Hit me.”

“Only if you tell me to,” Bakugou agreed. “Ready to try again?”

“Yes.”

It took a minute for anything to happen. Bakugou watched with apprehension as Kirishima slowed his breathing and calmed himself down before even attempting to let go of the tight grip he had on his hardening. All that was flashing through Bakugou’s mind were images of Kirishima’s heart failing to beat, turning into stone, and the shifter dying right here and now. Frankly, he was terrified. Even if he managed to knock Kirishima out, what if this happened again? What if it happened when Bakugou wasn't around?

Kirishima could die.

“Bak—ugou. Ready,” Kirishima croaked, shaking him out of his thoughts. Somehow, despite everything that was happening, he managed to shoot Bakugou a tight smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Will be—fine.”

“Of course you'll be fine,” Bakugou said. He tried for confidence, but his words fell flat, and he realized that he was probably being less subtle about his feelings than he had hoped. “I know that you'll be okay. Don't worry, dumbass.”

He wasn't just trying to assuage Kirishima’s fears, anymore.

After nodding one last time, Kirishima squeezed his eyes shut, hands fisted around the hem of his shirt. Just like before, it didn't seem to be working. Bakugou opened his mouth, ready to ask if Kirishima wanted to call it quits, before the shifter inhaled a sharp breath. Immediately, Bakugou thought the worst. His eyes widened, hands twitching as he refrained from reaching out to Kirishima, when he saw the cracked and hardened skin disappear under his collar. Feeling along the shifter’s side revealed that it was gradually dissipating across his entire body.

“Kiri? Are you okay? Did it work?”

Kirishima lifted his head, only this time, when he looked up, there was no cracked skin at his throat; just a wobbly smile, paired with teary, red-rimmed eyes. The breath Bakugou let out was one of relief as they both took a moment to just stare at each other. It was over. Kirishima was okay.

“Thank you,” the shifter said finally. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

“Don't,” Bakugou muttered. “Just—don’t.”

“Your hands,” Kirishima whispered instead, face falling as he turned Bakugou’s hands palm up, tracking each rip and scrape with his eyes. “God, I can't believe I—”

“You didn't,” Bakugou interrupted. “You warned me, remember? It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But—”

“Calm the fuck down, idiot. You're alive. Stop worrying about useless things.”

“It’s not useless, I hurt you!”

Kirishima shuffled forward on his knees, fingers fluttering around Bakugou’s hands carefully, before sliding up, up, up around his neck. He let out a shaky breath, tucking himself under Bakugou’s chin. The hunter’s arm wound around him, pulling him closer, determined to memorize the feel of him in his arms. Kirishima still trembled, though his muscles were tense, as if he was trying his hardest not to. Bakugou rubbed his back, hands wandering from the divots in his hips to the corded muscle of his shoulders.

Warm breath ghosting over Bakugou’s collarbone, Kirishima spoke in a small voice. “I'm so sorry, Ba—”

“Just call me Katsuki already,” Bakugou grumbled; partly in an effort to distract Kirishima from the lacerations on his hands, but mostly because he had been wanting to ask for months now. Even as Kirishima turned his incredulous gaze up to meet his, Bakugou hid behind his bangs, eyes cast to the ground.

“You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this,” Kirishima breathed. “Eijirou. Please, Katsuki. Call me Eijirou.”

“Duh,” Bakugou scoffed. “But only when I'm not calling you shitty hair or shitty lizard or hair-for-brains or shitface or fucker or dumbass or idiot or bastard or—”

“Katsuki!” Kirishima laughed, slapping a hand over Bakugou’s mouth and cutting him short. He shook his head, something awfully close to fondness in his eyes when Bakugou let out a muffled shout of indignation. “You're an ass,” he sighed. After a moment, he turned his face further into Bakugou's neck, as if he was hiding. As much as he wanted to make sure Kirishima was okay, Bakugou didn't press; instead, ducked his chin into the redhead's hair and waited.

"I was terrified," Kirishima said finally, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was going to—to die. Everything was turning to rock and I couldn't breathe and then when I finally crawled back here you weren't here and I was so confused and I was just terrified," he rambled, fingers clenched in Bakugou's shirt, erratic breaths puffing against his skin. "So—so even though you don't want me to thank you I just—if it weren't for you I would be dead," he gasped. "Oh god, I could have died, I almost did—"

"Kirishima," Bakugou interrupted. "You didn't die. You're right here, and you're okay. Feel this?"

He pressed Kirishima's palm against his chest, watching the shifter's breathing calm down as he felt his own heartbeat.

"See? You're okay. Shh," Bakugou soothed, allowing Kirishima to pull his arms tighter around his still shaking body, arranging the pair of them so that he was fully encompassed by Bakugou's body as much as was physically possible, arms and legs surrounding him. Kirishima cried against him, but Bakugou found that he didn't mind the gradual dampening of his shirt, nor how tightly Kirishima was clutching on to him.

He just wanted him to be okay.

Bakugou wasn't sure how long they sat there, seeking comfort in the warmth from each other's bodies, before Kirishima spoke again.

"I'll tell you now," he murmured.

At this, Bakugou nudged him away, lips curling in confusion. “What?”

“About my power.”

“Oi, you don't have to tell me anyth—”

“I want to,” Kirishima insisted. Bakugou suppressed a shudder when he felt the shifter's lips brush against his neck. It was an accident. It had to be. “Especially after…yeah. You deserve to know.”

“But…okay. Only if you're sure. You're not dying, are you? You didn't really answer that before. Am I? Are we? ”

“Nothing like that,” Kirishima assured him, lips twitching as he poorly concealed a smile. “It’s good, actually. Well. To me it is, I don't know if you'll like it…”

“Spit it out, then!”

“Alright, alright!” Kirishima yelped. He peeled himself away from Bakugou, leaning back on his hands, shifting his weight from one shoulder to the other, and glanced off to the side. “So the dragon shifter pilgrimage, right? The power stems from that, and the final step of it is, um—shifters get their power when they find their ‘home.’”

“Home?” Bakugou echoed, frowning (and trying not to let it show just how much he wanted Kirishima back in his arms again). “I don't get it. We’ve never stayed in one place. At least, not long enough for you to consider it home, I hope. You're definitely the type to get attached to stupid shit,” he mused. “Maybe that flower shop a couple towns back? Or Fat Face—”

“Fatgum!”

“—Fat Face’s place. One of those, then?”

Bakugou didn't voice how uncomfortable the thought of Kirishima feeling most at home in some dingy and random old place was. Wouldn't that mean he wanted to settle? Wouldn't that mean he wanted to leave Bakugou’s side? He did say that it was something Bakugou might not necessarily like.

Oh boy.

“Or maybe it’s not that,” Bakugou rushed to add. “Because you only unlocked your secret shifter magic today, and also because maybe you're not a complete dumbass sap. But you are , so—”

“Katsuki.” Kirishima interrupted gently. His hand brushed Bakugou’s own, making the hunter’s words fumble over themselves. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what?” Bakugou demanded. He hated how anxious he was at the thought of this. Couldn't Kirishima just tell him already?

“It’s you,” Kirishima whispered, voice so soft that Bakugou nearly missed it over the blood rushing in his ears.

“What?” He managed, breath catching in his throat and staying there. His body was refusing to work properly, but at this point, Bakugou couldn't find it in him to care. Something monumental was happening. After so long, so many months, something was finally happening. If he missed a single second of it, Bakugou would never forgive himself.

“You, Katsuki. You're my home.”

Oh.

-

Over the course of seven months, Bakugou and Kirishima learned a lot about one another. Kirishima liked eating butterflies, but he liked burping them up, alive and unharmed, even more. Bakugou had a thing against the color yellow—specifically mustard yellow—that he refused to explain. When Kirishima threatened to tell Kaminari, Bakugou grinned manically, assuring the redhead that Kaminari was more than well-acquainted with that fact.

Ever since the storm, even before they got together, Kirishima insisted on cuddling with Bakugou every night, claiming that he fell asleep better at his side. That was how Bakugou became unfortunately familiar with the knowledge that Kirishima drooled in his sleep, but it was a fair trade, considering how many times he somehow ended up with a foot in the shifter’s face.

When he got excited, Kirishima essentially became an alarmingly large puppy. In human form, it was more adorable than Bakugou was ready to admit, but in dragon form, it was downright deadly. A guy could only get almost stepped on by a frolicking dragon so many times before it became a problem.

He didn't really mind. After all, Kirishima put up with his more irritating habits without complaint, and there was no way Bakugou was going to be the worse boyfriend! No, this was a game and he was winning.

In the end, none of this knowledge could have prepared Bakugou for the sheer clinginess of his new boyfriend, nor the fact that he didn't even mind.

If anything, he was worse. Always winding an arm around Kirishima’s waist, draping himself over his back (both in his human and dragon form) and either sitting on top of him or pulling Kirishima onto him.

Frankly, it was embarrassing. Of course Kirishima didn't mind either—no, he was overjoyed— but Bakugou’s sense of pride just couldn't wrap its stupid head around the fact that yes, he was in love with this bumbling idiot, and yes, that feeling wasn't going to go away no matter how many times Kirishima waved goodbye to their campsites when they decided to move on, even though Bakugou not-so-patiently explained to him many times that the campsites wouldn't care one way or another.

He was a dumbass.

Bakugou loved him so much.

-

Oh.

And all of a sudden, the soft, unfiltered look of affection in Kirishima’s eyes made sense. The world righted on its axis; Bakugou was no longer torn apart over his own feelings, nor trying to make sense of Kirishima’s. Home. He didn't think anyone had ever loved him enough to consider him home, before.

“Me?” He asked; not because he misheard, but because he wanted to hear the words from Kirishima’s mouth again.

The shifter nodded, a sudden shyness overtaking his features as he cradled Bakugou’s hand in his—ever mindful of his injuries—and lurched forward, placing a quick peck to the blond’s cheek.

“Is this…is that okay?” Kirishima breathed, puffy red eyes darting around, somehow never meeting Bakugou’s own in their travels. It was becoming abundantly clear the longer that Bakugou gaped like a fish out of water that his lack of reaction was doing far more harm than good. Quicker than lightning, he snatched Kirishima’s wrist back from where he was gradually pulling it back, and before Kirishima could open his mouth to either ask ‘what’ or fret about Bakugou’s blood staining his wrist, the hunter dove forward, capturing Kirishima’s lips with his own.

It was better than anything he had ever imagined. There were no fireworks, no fanfare, like in Bakugou’s most frequent daydreams. Just the chirping of the birds and the sound of running water. Kirishima’s lips were chapped, though Bakugou couldn't find it in him to care as they molded against one another, calloused hands finding shoulders and waists and faces. Gently, Bakugou pushed forward, and Kirishima fell onto his back. He crawled over the shifter, settling comfortably in his lap while not separating them for an instant.

Only when the need for air became an issue did he finally pull away, and instantly, was hit by vivid deja vu.

“Your hair looks like dandelions,” Kirishima murmured, only this time, his hands found their place on Bakugou’s hips, instead of hovering nervously around him.

“It’s about fucking time,” Bakugou replied. Generously, he ignored Kirishima’s statement. After all, he was simply thinking about the same moment at the beginning of their friendship that he was.

“How long?”

“I can't remember,” he confessed. “A while.”

“Since the start, for me,” Kirishima told him, not bothering to muffle his giggles. “You were always hot, but I had a proper crush even way back then.”

"So you were flirting!" Bakugou cried, jabbing an acusatory finger in Kirishima's chest, shaking up and down as he tried and failed to suppress his laughter. "With the fucking muscle groping!"

"Sorry."

The bastard wasn't sorry at all, judging by the shit-eating grin on his face. "You just looked so pretty! You always look pretty, Katsuki, and you know I like pretty things!"

“What did I say? Dumbass sap,” Bakugou snickered. "You can't just say shit like that, idiot."

“Don't make fun of me!” Kirishima whined, yanking Bakugou fully down and rolling over, so that his head was pillowed on the hunter’s chest. He wiggled around, too excited to lay still, and looked up, pouting at Bakugou. “I really like you. Really, really like you, you know. I love you, even.”

“You better. Otherwise this would be really awkward,” Bakugou mumbled. It took a moment for Kirishima to process what he said, and Bakugou was already squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation for whichever way Kirishima went crazy next, but what he absolutely didn't expect was to be rendered breathless once again with an unexpected kiss. He gasped into Kirishima’s mouth, only seeming to spur the shifter on further.

“I'm so in love with you,” Kirishima declared, finally pulling himself away and letting Bakugou take a moment to stop his head from spinning; whether it was from the mind-blowing kiss or lack of oxygen, he didn't know.

“I fuckin—good god, Ei, are you trying to kill me? Anyway, I love you too, idiot.”

Kirishima laughed again, a sound that Bakugou would never tire of hearing. “Traveling with you has been a dream, Katsuki,” he said, so sincerely that even Bakugou’s strongest attempts at smothering a blush had little chance of succeeding, if any.

“Yeah,” he said dumbly.

“Yeah,” Kirishima mimicked. “Eloquent as ever.”

“How can I top ‘you're my home, Katsuki?’” Bakugou asked, fake swooning. He cackled when Kirishima smacked him, and just like that, they were rolling over one another, each taking turns to mock and jeer, howling with laughter over the dumbest things that Bakugou could already tell he wasn't going to remember later.

Bakugou wouldn't give this up for anything, and oh —they had all the time in the world.