Archive of Our Own

Kirishima really should be sleeping.

He's trying to, he really is, but he's too warm and too cold, and the house is too quiet, and the sound of the air conditioner turning on has startled him into full awareness too many times for him to count. He turns over, clutching a pillow to his chest. Usually, it would have been fine, he would have just gotten up and played a video game or watched YouTube, but he doesn't feel like doing either. The house feels empty, and there's a weird pit in his stomach, and his brain is running ten-thousands miles per hour, and has it really only been two minutes since the last time he looked at his clock?

He turns over again, tugging his blanket up past his shoulders and groaning when the movement pulls it off his feet. 

He's tired and sore from the final exams they'd taken that day, and his arms are stiff and worn out. It doesn't help that he feels stupid, and he's shredding himself apart for failing such a simple test because he couldn't stop and think for two seconds about doing something other than using brute force. He keeps spinning the scenario in his head, over and over, but he can't think of any way that he could have won. Does that make him unmanly? Is his quirk so boring and weak that there's no way for him to overcome something as simple as concrete? He wasn't able to pass the test that nearly everyone else had, and Satou had been counting on him to pass, too, and he'd failed them all. He was the only one who'd been entirely useless in the fight; The others who had failed had at least been able to do something. Mineta couldn't have won without Sero's tape, and Kaminari and Mina were faced with the near impossible challenge of facing Nedzu, and had at least managed to get somewhere.

Kirishima sits up and shoves his face into the pillow he's clutching, letting out a muffled scream of frustration. Normally he'd go seek comfort from his mom, but she was overseas on a business trip, and he didn't want to burden her by accidentally calling in the middle of a meeting or something. Her not being there means he's alone, and a harsh pang of sorrow makes him blink back tears. He doesn't like being by himself, when he's lonely his thoughts get too loud and it's harder to ignore the constant barrage of insecurities that he can shove away for the most part when he's with someone. He can feel it, the crawling along his spine, the shaking in his hands, the creeping feeling of despair and panic curling around his ribs. Kirishima really, really hates being alone.

Which is how he finds himself with a duffel bag tossed over his shoulder, taking the midnight train to Mustafu. 

Kirishima sits himself down and stares out the window, watching as the Chiba prefecture passes by in a blur of shadows. The sky is clear, stars shining brightly through the windows, and the glass is warm against Kirishima's cheek when he rests against it. 

When he'd left the house, he didn't really know where he was going to go, he just knew he needed to be anywhere but there. He had started walking in the general direction of the train station, scrolling through his contacts, trying to figure out who he could call this late at night. Mina was a no-go, she would probably let him, but he was pretty sure her parents wouldn't. He had no idea where Sero or Kaminari lived, and he wasn't close enough to Jirou to ask her, so that left…

Kirishima had held the phone to his ear with baited breath, his heart sinking with every ring. He knew this wouldn't work, there was no reason for Bakugou to answer anyway, it was past midnight and he knows Bakugou has a strict sleep schedule, wow, he's such a terrible person, so inconsiderate-

All of a sudden the speaker crackled, and Bakugou's voice had poured out, gruff and tinged with annoyance. "The fuck d'you want at nearly one o' fucking clock in the morning, Jaws?"

Kirishima had almost cried with relief, clutching his phone so hard his knuckles had gone white. "Bakugou! Hey! Hello! I was uh, I was calling because I wanted to ask you something."

"Well ask it quickly. I was sleeping, dipshit."

"Right, yeah, I'm sorry about that but do you think," he paused, taking a breath, "Do you think that I could come over?"

"Why?" Bakugou asks, sounding both amused and ticked off, something that was common when he was talking to Kirishima.

"Well, its really quiet in my house, and uh, it's too quiet, and I can't sleep because I'm bad at being alone, and, actually you should go back to sleep, I'm sorry for bothering you so late, I'll see you later-"

"Shitty Hair-"

"Y'know, I'll just, I'll walk back home, I'm not that far, it was a really dumb question-"

"Fucking-"

"So. Yeah, catch you later, man, sorry again for-"

"Kirishima!"

The redhead paused, caught off-guard by the use of his name. "Yeah?"

"It's fine. You can come over. I'll see you when you get here. Hurry the hell up or I'm going back to sleep."

Kirishima's face split into a smile, and he could feel some of the anxiety that was clouding his mind loosen up slightly. "I will! Thank you, Bakugou! See you in a bit!"

"Yeah, yeah. Calm your shit, see you in a minute."

Bakugou had hung up, and Kirishima had made his way to the train station and boarded the one headed to Mustafu, and now he was on his way to the Bakugou residence.

He'd been there before, for tutoring and study sessions after they'd been kicked out of several libraries and a couple restaurants. He liked Bakugou's parents, one of which was the spitting image of him. Mitsuki Bakugou and Bakugou were so uncannily similar that it was almost overwhelming to be in the same room as both of them at once. Bakugou Masaru was more gentle than his wife, and he seemed to be the sole voice of reason in the household sometimes. He was exceptional at ending arguments and calming the two firecracker blondes, and Kirishima can only wish to have that talent every time he watches Bakugou glare spitefully across a room at Midoriya. 

It takes a very long hour of Kirishima staring into the distance for the train to reach his stop, and he waves at the sole other passenger as he steps off. He's been to the Bakugou's enough times that he remembers the route, and he ends up outside their front door in a little less than fifteen minutes. He pulls out his phone to tell Bakugou he's here, and less than a minute later he gets a response. 

Blasty💣: Come around the side, to where my room is

Kirishima turns the corner of the house where he's pretty sure Bakugou's room is located and is greeted with Bakugou leaning half out of his window, maneuvering himself onto a tree branch that hangs directly next to it. He manages to wrangle himself onto it, climbing cautiously down the tree until he ends up at the bottom. He glances at Kirishima. "Bring your wallet?"

Kirishima blinks in confusion. "Yeah, why?"

"Take it out then I'll toss your bag up there. We're going on a snack run."

Kirishima doesn't really know how to react to that, so he does what he's told and takes out his wallet before handing the bag to Bakugou. The older boy positions the duffel and then, with an extremely well-aimed toss, manages to get the bag through the window. He turns around, dusts his hands on his sweatpants, and then starts to walk, gesturing for Kirishima to follow.

Kirishima shakes his head to clear his confusion before complying, following the blond out the gates and down the sidewalk.

What.

What the fuck.

Kirishima is at his house, at two in the morning, and they're going on a snack run.

What the actual fuck. 

He knows he's the one who suggested the snack run, purely for the reason that he'd been woken up and he was hungry, and he could tell Kirishima had too much energy to sleep. But still, it's real damn strange to be strolling through his neighborhood past midnight side-by-side with Kirishima, and he can't help but wonder why Kirishima had called him, of all people. 

"So, where are we going, exactly?"

Bakugou scoffs. "I fuckin' told you. Snack run. Pay attention."

"Well yeah, but where?"

Bakugou shrugs. "There's a 24-hour convenience store about thirty minutes this way, so we're going there."

Kirishima nods and falls silent, and Bakugou looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He looks tired, and it's odd for Bakugou to see him with his hair unspiked, instead it's tucked into a small ponytail near the base of his neck, the strands that are too long to fit framing his face and falling in his eyes. He's wearing a dark red tank top and black shorts, and he looks oddly soft in the dim light. 

Bakugou shifts his focus back to the sidewalk, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Why me?"

Kirishima, not expecting the sudden question, is spooked slightly. "Why you what?"

"Why'd you call me? Why not Sparky or Ears or Racoon Eyes or fucking Soy Sauce? Why me?"

Kirishima considers it for a second. "I dunno. I mean, I know where you live, so there's that."

Bakugou feels disappointed with that answer, and he doesn't know why, but he accepts it. "Fine, then. The fuck's up with you?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you want out of your house?"

"Oh, well, uh…" Kirishima starts, looking everywhere but Bakugou, "I wasn't feeling great, and uh, nobody's home right now, and I didn't want to be by myself."

Bakugou nods. He doesn't really get it, always relishing in whatever alone time he gets, but he supposes it makes sense for an extrovert like Kirishima to get lonely easily. 

In an attempt to shift the topic, Bakugou stretches his arms above his head. "Damn, I'm sore as fuck from the finals. How 'bout you?"

Kirishima brings his hand up to play with the hair that's hanging in front of his face, seemingly uncomfortable. "Ha-ha, yeah. You and Midoriya were really great against All Might. I don't think I could have won if it were me, so that was really impressive!"

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, trying very hard not to think about Deku or else he might deck someone, most likely Kirishima.

"You weren't bad, yourself. I don't know what the fuck they were thinking, pairing you and Candyland with Cementoss. That was the worst possible match up, and I have no goddamn clue how they expected you to pass."

Kirishima looks shocked. "It was?"

"Yeah, it was pretty bullshit."

"But you probably could have passed, it's just because it was me that we failed."

"No, it's not. You could've done something else, sure, but with your quirks trying to bulldoze your way through was probably one of the best things you could've tried."

"But if I had a better quirk, if I were stronger, I might have been able to do it!" Kirishima protests.

"Maybe so, but I still think your quirk is pretty badass, and if you keep training, I bet one day you'll be damn near invincible."

Kirishima seems to take that to heart, allowing himself a reluctant smile. "You think?"

"Yeah. Unwavering horse and all, right?"

Kirishima makes a sound of agreement and the subject is dropped, but Bakugou can feel the change in Kirishima's mood. He's still tense and upset, but it seems to have gotten a little better. 

After that, they continue to banter back and forth, discussing random encyclopedia facts and lightly insulting each other. 

At one point, Kirishima laughs ao hard that he nearly runs into a pole, and Bakugou rolls his eyes. "You're a fucking moron. Were you dropped on your damn head as a child? Is that why you have no observation skills?"

Kirishima regains his composure and then shrugs, glancing at the blond beside him, "I don't think so, but I used to hit myself in the head with a crowbar a lot when I was in middle school, so that could be it."

Bakugou freezes, staring incredulously at the redhead. Kirishima stops too, looking back at him with confusion, apparently finding no issue in the words that he'd casually tossed into the air. "Excuse me, you fucking what?"

"Used to hit myself with a crowbar." Kirishima repeats, still speaking as if they were discussing the weather and not him beating himself up, literally, what the fuck. "To improve my hardening, y'know?"

"No, I don't fucking know. Where the hell did you even come up with that? And where the shit did you find a crowbar?" 

Kirishima finally has the decency to look uncomfortable, scratching at the nape of his neck as he searches for his answer. "Well, uh, someone threw a rock at my head, and my hardening wasn't good enough to, like, stop it? And we had a crowbar in the garage, I don't remember exactly why. So I figured that if I used my hardening over and over, it would get stronger, or whatever, 'cause that's how you improve quirks, right? So, uh, yeah." 

Bakugou blinked, anger simmering under his skin. Someone threw a rock at him? And so he turned to intentional self-harm to strengthen his quirk? What in the actual fuck went on in this guy's head, honestly. "Yeah, quirks improve with training, but that doesn't mean you should intentionally fucking hurt yourself, dumbass. You couldn't have found a sparring partner or some shit?"

"Well, uh, I guess I could have, but I didn't really have any friends?" Kirishima replies tentatively, sensing Bakugou's rising anger. "Well, I had two, but neither of them had quirks that were good for fighting, so…"

"And you couldn't have gone to a gym or something? There are quirk-training gyms all over the goddamn place."

Kirishima's eyes widen, his ears turning a faint pink as he grins sheepishly at the ground. "Oh, yeah, I guess I could have."

"Of course you fucking could have! Why was your first thing you thought of hitting yourself with a crowbar? What the shit, Kirishima!" Bakugou practically yells, fully prepared to throttle the man in front of him. 

"Well, actually, it wasn't my first choice," Kirishima corrects, "my real first choice was slamming my head into the wall, but then I made a dent and figured that I should hit myself with something rather than hitting something with myself in order to cause less property damage."

"Right, because that's so much better," Bakugou pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "I can't believe I have to tell you this, but you shouldn't fucking damage yourself, either, and it certainly shouldn't be the first fucking solution you come up with."

Kirishima side-eyes him, "That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"No, fuck off, overworking yourself a little and having to put up with the negative side effects of your quirk is not the same as actually injuring yourself on purpose."

"It wasn't that bad, and it worked, mostly. I only really did it until I started bleeding, then I'd put a band-aid on it and move on to other things like smashing my fists together to strengthen my hands or weight-lifting or jogging or jumping off the roof of the house."

"Jumping off the- Shitty Hair-"

"And I only broke a bone or got injured like, twice, so it turned out alright."

"How the fuck are you still alive?"

Kirishima gives him a puzzled look, "I trusted my quirk, for the most part, I guess." He pauses, scanning Bakugou's face, which Bakugou's sure is some mixture of anger and disbelief, before looking pointedly away and bringing the hand that had been resting on his neck down to tug at the hem of his tank top. He utters his next words quietly, so much so that if Bakugou weren't straining his explosion-deafened ears he probably wouldn't have heard them. "And, well, I guess I didn't really care how much I got hurt, because back then it didn't really matter to me whether I lived or not."

Bakugou startles at that, visibly flinching slightly both at what Kirishima had said and the broken, strained voice he'd said it in. "Hey, what the hell-"

"So," Kirishima continues forcefully "I was really reckless when I was in middle school. But now, at least most of the time, I know that people care about me and I'm important or whatever, so I don't do dumb stuff like that to get stronger anymore."

They both pause for a moment, staring at each other. Bakugou takes a second to study the person in front of him. It's quiet, and the normally cheerful boy is instead somber and shy. The streetlights paint stark shadows across his features, and his face is partially hidden by a curtain of red. Bakugou watches silently as Kirishima takes a deep breath, shakes the hair out of his face and breaks into a small grin. "Besides, I've got you to spar with now, don't I?"

Bakugou exhales and runs a hand through his hair, calming himself down and letting himself think before deciding to drop the topic. It's hard, though, because  his mind is looping Kirishima's words, coupled with the face of resignation and shame he'd made when he'd said them. He'd bring it up later, for sure, but for right now it would probably be best to set it aside. He shoves the other boy's words to the back of his mind, resolving to go back over them when he was alone. Kirishima clearly needs a break from talking about it, and Bakugou wasn't such a big asshole that he'd force him. Besides, the snack run was meant to be a break from the negative feelings left over after the finals. It was intended to be calming and fun, and this conversation was neither. "Yeah, you do." 

Kirishima's smile widens, "Thanks, Bakubro. I knew you liked me!"

Bakugou sputters, feeling his ears heat as he turns away from the redhead and continues walking, "No, I do not, shut your fuck."

 Kirishima chuckles, keeping pace alongside the blond. "Sure, Blasty. So, what snacks are you gonna get?"

Bakugou smirks, "Spiciest shit they have, probably."

"Yeah, sounds pretty on-brand for you."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean, hah?!" Bakugou snaps, shoving Kirishima's shoulder. The boy giggles, displaying his unnaturally pointed teeth before playfully shoving the other back. 

"You're getting predictable, Bakugou!"

"Oh, go eat a dick, asshole. Like you're not gonna get fucking jerkey and some random-ass Crimson Riot brand energy drink."

Kirishima raises his eyebrows and gives a low whistle. "Damn, bro. I didn't know you paid attention."

"Yeah right, you're just really fucking obvious."

Kirishima makes an offended noise, crossing his arms and huffing in mock annoyance. Bakugou smirks, both at Kirishima's reaction and his apparently lifted mood. 

He breaks the quiet after a couple minutes, turning to Kirishima with a competitive grin. "Hey, Hair-For-Brains?"

"Yeah, Blasty McSplode?" 

"Race you to that tree."

"Oh, you're on."

Kirishima is confused. 

He's sprinting along the sidewalk, with Bakugou, who he'd just spilled one of his most well-guarded secrets to, and who had reacted to it extremely uncharacteristically. Bakugou had been accepting, albeit with a lot of cursing and a couple insults, and he'd actually been, dare he say… nice? He'd even let Kirishima change the subject, even though it was obvious he'd had things he wanted to say. It was very strange, and very confusing. 

Not to say that he didn't appreciate it, because he absolutely did. He'd been half expecting Bakugou to call him weak, or a coward, and then blast him into the moon or something. Not to react like, like… 

Like a friend.

Which, yeah, obviously Kirishima considered Bakugou his friend, he wouldn't have come to his house at two o'clock in the morning if he didn't, but he hadn't thought that Bakugou considered him anything more than a somewhat tolerable acquaintance until that moment. Knowing that Bakugou is his friend -that he wants to be around him, he isn't just putting up with him out of some feeling of obligation- is making his chest do weird things and his stomach do fun acrobatics.

Or maybe that's the running. 

It's probably the running.

They're both tearing across the sidewalk, but Bakugou's slightly ahead of him, so Kirishima forces himself to speed up, feet pounding on the pavement in an attempt to pass the other. Bakugou takes notice and flips him the bird, to which Kirishima sticks his tongue out. Bakugou laughs, and it's breathless and raspy and it's the first time Kirishima's ever heard it, and he gets so distracted by the sound that he nearly trips and falls face-first onto the ground. 

In the end, Bakugou wins, finishing barely a second before Kirishima. Kirishma chooses to blame the loss on the near faceplant rather than a lack of skill, even though Bakugou is obviously more agile than he is. Their chests are heaving, and Kirishima's legs burn as they both lean against the tree that marked the endpoint of their race, adrenaline still pumping hard through their systems. The night is quiet except for the sounds of their breathing, and Kirishima uses the collar of his shirt to wipe his brow. The air is stifling and humid, the pre-summer heat hanging heavy around them, which makes slowing their hearts down to their usual rates a harder feat.

Eventually, Kirishima speaks up. "So?"

Bakugou squints at him, dragging an arm across his forehead in a hopeless attempt to clear some of the sweat. "Hah? So what?"

"So, you won." Kirishima says, bringing his arms up so he can rest his head against them. "Do you want, like, a prize or something?"

Bakugou raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, interest seemingly piqued. "Oh? What do you have to offer, Shitty Hair?"

Kirishima blanks, realizing he hadn't really thought that far. "Uh, myself? No, no, wait, that sounds wrong, um…I could buy one of your snacks?"

Bakugou chuckles, considering it, and again Kirishima's heart does a weird tightening-tugging thing that he tries very hard not to focus on.

His friend's rough voice cuts through his adamant denial of any weird organ gymnastics that are definitely not occuring. "If you want, I guess. Knock yourself out."

"Alright, then. One of your snacks, on me!" Kirishima declares, bumping his fists together and flashing the other boy a smile. 

Bakugou shakes his head gently at his antics before pushing himself up off the tree. "Well, then, let's get moving. I've got free food waiting, after all."

Kirishima follows his lead and joins him back on the sidewalk, brushing dirt off his arms and his shirt where they had been pressed against the tree. He hopes there's not much in his hair, leaves and such were always a pain in the ass to wash out. Before he can think too much about it he reaches over and plucks a stray leaf off Bakugou's shoulder. He doesn't say anything, and Kirishima gives a silent sigh of relief. 

It's peaceful in Mustafu at night, the stillness only disrupted by the occasional car or random animal. There's buzzing in the trees, a steady, calming background noise that always means the beginning of summer. The moon isn't full, but it will be soon, the last little bit of darkness at the edge being slowly overtaken by the light. Kirishima wonders, distantly, if summer is Bakugou's favorite season. 

It certainly looks good on him, the bright light from the moon highlighting his hair and making him appear almost ethereal. The light glimmers on his sweat, too, making him shimmer. He looks as if he were glowing as the moonbeams reflect off his pale skin, and there are soft shadows where the moon cannot reach. Bakugou looks alive, he looks happy, his mouth slightly upturned at the corners, and Kirishima thinks that he might be the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

It takes him a second to notice that Bakugou, who Kirishima realizes he's just spent at least five minutes staring at, is saying something. Kirishima quickly tunes himself back into reality, shoving whatever that train of thought had been away to potentially be considered later, when the one he's having weird thoughts about isn't actively speaking to him.  Unfortunately, he only catches the tail end of Bakugou's statement.

"-away."

"Sorry, what?"

"I said," Bakugou repeats, sounding somewhat annoyed, "that the convenience store is only a couple minutes away. Over there, see?"

He gestures in front of them and Kirishima follows his hand to where there is, in fact, a convenience store. It's small, but it makes up for what it lacks in size with the sheer brightness of the various signs. He picks up his pace slightly and so does Bakugou, who gives him a quick glance before speeding up more. Kirishima narrows his eyes and starts jogging, and Bakugou in turn starts jogging too, only he's going faster than Kirishima, so Kirishima only gives him one last quick grin before bolting as fast as he can towards the store.

Of course, Bakugou wins the impromptu race as well and declares such very loudly as they approach the doors of the shop. Kirishima laughs at his friend before tugging open the door and holding it.

"Here you go, oh almighty Lord Explosion Murder, sir."

Bakugou gives him an almost feral grin, crossing his arms proudly and puffing out his chest. "Damn straight, peasant."

Kirishima laughs and follows the taller boy into the shop, extremely thankful when the air conditioning blows into his face as soon as he enters. He waves at the cashier, a gothic looking girl with short white hair and light pink eyes who smiles at him before returning to scrolling on her phone. 

Bakugou has, predictably, made a beeline for the spicy chips and is scrutinizing them harshly. Kirishima watches as the blond glares at the shelves before picking up a bag for closer inspection, manhandling it ferociously as it it were an enemy and not an innocent bag of chips.

Kirishima makes his way over to the jerky and glances over the selection before deciding upon teriyaki and sweet and sour. He grabs a large bag of each and then starts to wander through the aisles, not quite sure of what else to get. There's a lot of options and quite a few items with heroes on them, the most common being All Might, for obvious reasons. There are several of the top ten heroes plastered across pastries and whatnot, and a surprising amount of Mount Lady branded stuff, too. Kirishima is browsing through some mini donuts with Edgeshot's face on the bag when Bakugou suddenly appears behind him.

"Yo, fuckwad."

"Really?"

"I found something for you."

Kirishima turns around and a bag is promptly shoved in his face. He pulls it away so he can read it, and is pleased when he sees that it's barbecue chips with a neat  picture of Crimson Riot decorating the bag. "Aw, thanks, man!"

"Yeah, it was the last one, so you better be fuckin' thankful." Bakugou mumbles, staring intently at Kirishima's shoes. "You're paying for these, by the way."

Another bag of chips is shoved at him, this time salt and vinegar because Bakugou is some kind of weird masochistic demon. 

Kirishima takes the bag and walks to the counter to check out, setting down his snacks along with a fizzy drink he'd picked up while perusing the aisles. The girls scans the items and checks him out, and he says a quick "Thank you"  and smiles when she hands him the bag. He wishes her a good night and steps to the side to let Bakugou pay for his stuff before they're back out the door.

When they're outside of the cool, air conditioned building and back out into the sticky heat, Bakugou pulls something out of his bag and hands it to Kirishima, gently this time. 

"Woah, you bought me ice cream?"

"No, I bought us both ice cream." Bakugou responds, pulling an orange popsicle out of his plastic bag and tearing the wrapping off violently.

"Well, still. Thanks, Bakugou!" Kirishima says, reading his own package and ignoring the way his stomach flutters when he sees it's strawberry. Was it just by chance, or did Bakugou actually know that was his favorite?

"It's whatever."

They decide to sit on a curb while they enjoy their treats, and Kirishima is absolutely ecstatic about his ice cream. It tastes amazing, and the thought that Bakugou bought it for him makes it a little sweeter. He savors both it and how close Bakugou is sitting, his shoulder nearly brushing Kirishima's and their knees bumping together. Bakugou is so close that Kirishima can tell he smells like caramel and charcoal, which is an odd combination but also strangely fitting. Kirishima knows that Bakugou isn't a tactile person, so sitting directly next to him is making his adrenaline go haywire. It's like he's barely breathing, and every little movement the other makes causes his heart to stutter. 

It's weird, how Kirishima feels special. 

He usually doesn't, most of the time he feels plain and boring and cowardly, but sitting here, next to Bakugou, eating ice cream that he was gifted by someone who never gives anyone anything, he feels special.

He wonders why Bakugou is doing this, is letting him so close and laughing and giving him nice things, and he wants to ask, but he's scared that if he acknowledges it Bakugou will stop, and Kirishima really, really likes feeling special. 

So Kirishima doesn't ask, but he does lean in a little, just enough for their shoulders to touch. Bakugou tenses, so Kirishima panics and starts to move away, but Bakugou relaxes and settles against him. They're touching, arms pressed together and sticky from the humidity, and Kirishima thinks he  might combust. 

He cautions a look at Bakugou and they lock eyes, and Kirishima's breath is stolen again by how gorgeous Bakugou Katsuki is. 

Not wanting to break the moment, Kirishima whispers, "Hey."

"Hey," Bakugou whispers back, and Kirishima is definitely going to combust because it's probably not healthy for his heart to be going this fast.

Kirishima takes a deep breath, not breaking eye contact with the blond. Everything feels heavy, and intense, and Kirishima can't look away from the carmine eyes that are searching his. "Bakugou?"

Bakugou licks his lips, "Yeah?"

"Am I special?"

Bakugou inhales sharply, shattering the expectant atmosphere and effectively startling Kirishima. He stands abruptly, peeling himself away from the redhead, tossing his popsicle stick in a nearby trash can, and picking up his bag from where he'd sit it on the ground. Kirishima does the same, head spinning and fingertips buzzing from adrenaline. He has no idea what just happened, but he's pretty sure he ruined it. Goddammit, it's all so confusing and he doesn't even know what to do. 

They walk in silence on the way back, and it's tense and awkward. Kirishima can't look Bakugou in the face, and he's pretty sure Bakugou isn't looking at him, either. It really sucks, and Kirishima can't stop thinking about the moment they'd just had. It had to have been a moment, he couldn't have imagined it, right? There was something that happened there, for sure, even if Kirishima couldn't quite put a name to it. 

It takes until they're a block away from Bakugou's house for the older boy to do something. 

"Shark Week."

Kirishima jumps, looking up at him but still not meeting his eyes. "Yeah?"

Bakugou doesn't respond, instead he grabs Kirishima by the wrist and pulls him closer, and Kirishima's organs go back to their fancy acrobatics when he feels Bakugou's breath hot against his cheek. He's searching for something in his expression, he can tell, but  Kirishima doesn't know what Bakugou wants from him. It feels still, and silent, like even the summer bugs have stopped buzzing. It was only them, and their intermingling breath in the few inches between their mouths.

When Bakugou speaks, it's a whisper, a ghost of breath that dances across Kirishima's lips. "I'm not used to- to this."

"To what?" Kirishima asks, just as quietly.

"To… friends. Relationships." Bakugou pauses, and then leans a fraction of an inch closer, and Kirishima doesn't even try to fight the red spreading across his cheeks.  "But you know what, Kirishima?"

"What?" Kirishima's brain is mush, now, and he really hopes he's getting the right hints, because he really wants to kiss Bakugou.

"I think you are special."

There's a second where they only stare at each other, red gazing into red, and Kirishima wonders if he misread something. 

But then there's a mouth on his, and it's warm and sticky and tastes like oranges, and his heart could probably win a gold medal at the Olympics with the amount of flipping it's doing. Kirishima realizes he should probably do something before he makes Bakugou think he isn't enjoying this because he is, oh God he is, and he kisses back with such ferocity he nearly topples them both. Bakugou responds eagerly, turning what could have been a loving, chaste kiss into a competition, as he does, and the intensity of it leaves them both breathless. 

"Well," Kirishima starts, "I do certainly feel special."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Hmm. Maybe, one day, but I'm quite sure that's not allowed yet."

Bakugou sputters,  his ears going a bright shade of pink that's spreading down his neck at an impressive rate. "What the fuck, Kirishima, you're such an asshole!"

Kirishima chuckles, and Bakugou follows soon after until they're both standing on a street corner, giggling into each other's necks in the early hours of the morning. 

It's silly, and strange, and really not something he ever expected to do with Bakugou, but it feels right, somehow. 

"Hey, Bakugou?"

"Mmm?" Bakugou hums, raising his head to look at Kirishima, still appearing ethereal in the moonlight, and Kirishima thinks that maybe it isn't so strange that they ended up here. Maybe this is exactly where he's supposed to be, standing in the arms of Bakugou Katsuki, the boy with fire in his soul and a body filled with potential. He looks at Bakugou, and he thinks that he's the most wonderful thing, that he can't believe that he's here, but that also, it makes so much sense that he is. Kirishima looks at Bakugou, and he feels seen.

He doesn't say that, though. 

Instead, he leans into Bakugou and kisses him gently, whispering feather-light across his lips, "I think you're special, too."