Chapter Text
Kirishima had long stopped paying attention to the movie playing, despite it being an old favorite of his.
It was getting late, the sun having set some indeterminate time ago. The lights were off, the area illuminated only by the big screen TV.
Another song started in the movie, the Goblin King bragging about how he was going to be victorious.
A quiet “Tch,” drew his attention back to where it had been most of the night.
Bakugo was sitting next to him, pressed lightly against his arm while dark ruby eyes watched the movie critically.
Kirishima took a deep breath, blushing when it came out shaky.
Bakugo glanced up at him, his usual stern expression softened just a bit, most likely by the lateness of the hour and the low lighting.
Kirishima swallowed, his throat so dry that the action was mortifyingly audible.
“I… uh, I wanted to tell you… umm… thanks for watching this with me, I know you don’t care for it, and I know it’s got quite a few songs in it, and it’s getting late but, y’know, you’re still watching it with me, so… thank you.”
He returned his gaze to the TV, feeling Bakugo staring into the side of his head for what felt like forever.
“You’re welcome.”
Kirishima tried to steady his breathing as he resisted the unmanly urge to throw a tantrum. That hadn’t been what he wanted to say at all!
He sighed, chewing the inside of his cheek as he tried to consciously soak in the warmth of the other boy against his arm.
He heard Bakugo clear his throat, and he tensed, wondering if this was it, if the explosive blond had found out, if he could Harden before Bakugo made his rejection clear with a nuclear blast….
“Hey, Kiri?”
He glanced at his best friend in surprise, caught off guard by the use of a nickname that wasn’t insulting.
“Ye-yeah?”
Bakugo looked up at him from where he leaned against his arm, seeming to study his face in the shitty lighting from the TV.
“You should -“
A strange humming sound cut the blond off, both boys sitting up straight and looking around. The humming grew more intense, vibrations rippling through the room.
Both boys jumped to their feet, crackles of anticipation lighting up Bakugo’s palms while Kirishima Hardened his hands and forearms.
The air thrummed with static like when Kaminari had been excited about Shinso replacing Mineta in their class. Kirishima shuddered slightly at the feel of his fine hairs standing on end, hearing the grunt at his side.
Still looking around suspiciously, they heard a terrifying ripping sound close by, and Kirishima instinctively shifted in front of Bakugo and Hardened his entire body.
If villains were here, they were not taking Bakugo from him again.
One moment, the air a few feet in front of them was waving like heat shimmers, the next, two men appeared in an eruption of smoke, seeming disoriented as they stumbled.
Kirishima felt Bakugo’s arms reach past him, ready to blast the intruders while keeping his body behind the Hardened redhead.
“Hey, chill! We’re not villains!”
Kirishima almost lost control over his quirk in surprise, the stony surface of his skin rippling at the sound of the eerily familiar voice. Behind him, Bakugo stiffened, peering over his shoulder suspiciously.
The smoke was clearing, letting the boys get a better look at the intruders.
The taller one had long red hair tied back in a ponytail, and he was flashing a familiar grin of sharp teeth.
Kirishima felt his stomach do something really weird, eyes widening as he took in more details; a small scar in the right eyelid, an outfit that looked like a badass updated version of his own hero costume…
“Uggh, for fuck’s sake! I’m gonna blow that bitch to the fucking moon when we get back!”
Kirishima jumped at the rough snarl, somehow both familiar and not.
Next to the redheaded man was a blond man, wearing an all-too-familiar scowl as he glared at the boys.
Behind him, Kirishima heard Bakugo growl.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The blond stranger bared his teeth.
“Ain’t it fucking obvious?!”
The other man turned to him, frowning slightly as he spoke in a low voice.
“You gotta chill, Katsuki. You remember how it was for us when this happened.”
The blond man rolled his eyes to the ceiling, letting out a forceful sigh like he wanted to blow the whole building away.
“Fine, fine. Do whatever, Eijiro. Just cause I remember, doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”
The redhead turned to the boys, still in their defensive stance.
“It’s alright, guys. We’re you two, from about ten years in the future.”
Bakugo snorted, palms sparking.
“Bullshit.”
To their surprise, the redhead just chuckled as he glanced at the blond man.
“Damn, Katsuki, I almost forgot what a little shit you were back then!”
Bakugo growled, finally stepping out from behind Kirishima with his hands popping dangerously.
The blond man scowled, lifting his arm to show that he wore a sleeker version of Bakugo’s gauntlets.
“You’re not the best, not yet.”
Bakugo slowly lowered his hands, but the scent of toasted sugar was still strong.
“Kirishima, call Aizawa. Now.”
Keeping one eye on the new arrivals, Kirishima dove for the couch and snatched up the phone, releasing his quirk on his hands so he wouldn’t damage the device.
He pressed dial, moving back to Bakugo’s side to watch the two men.
Aizawa picked up on the second ring.
“This had better be impor-“
“Mr. Aizawa!? There’s two men here, in the common room. They say they’re me and Bakugo from the future, and they do look like us, but we really need you to come here!”
Before he’d even finished, he could hear his teacher getting out of bed, a grunt in the background of “Shota? Wha’s going on?”
Moments later, a door slammed open on the second floor, then Aizawa appeared on the stairs in nothing but a pair of black shorts, capture scarf in hand.
“Get away from them!” he snapped in a voice that carried a very real threat.
The men held up their hands and stepped backwards, while Kirishima pulled Bakugo backwards as well, unsure who exactly Aizawa had been talking to.
The quirk-eraser swiftly placed himself between the boys and the men, hair floating as he glared at the strangers.
Nothing happened.
Aizawa frowned deeply, but the red-haired man just grinned.
“We’re not the result of a quirk, Sensei, just got hit by a time-travel one. The only quirks you’re canceling are our own.”
Slowly, Aizawa’s hair dropped back down as he finally blinked.
“Who are you?”
The redhead smiled, holding his hand out to the side and Hardening it with a ripple of stone across his skin. At the same time, the blond man huffed and held out his own hand, a highly-controlled explosion igniting in his palm.
Kirishima glanced over to Bakugo, just in time for his best friend to look back at him with wide eyes.
Could this really be happening?
Aizawa still seemed on edge, watching the newcomers suspiciously.
“Why are you here?”
The blond man sighed.
“Ten years from now, Dynamight,” he jabbed his thumb at his own chest, “and Red Riot,” he jerked his thumb towards the redhead, “are fighting some fucking extra-ass villain that has a time-travel quirk, and she sent us back to this time because the universe is a fucking bitch.”
Aizawa narrowed his eyes.
“You certainly have a foul enough mouth to be Bakugo.”
The blond man shrugged, but there was no missing the fondness in his slight smile.
“You always were getting onto me about language. Ten years from now, you still are.”
Aizawa seemed to hesitate, obviously still doubting the validity of what he was seeing and hearing.
The redhead grinned, gesturing to the floors above them.
“Shinso! You know if he asks us with his quirk activated, we gotta tell the truth! That’s how it was proven when this happened to us.”
Aizawa spoke without turning his attention from the other men.
“Kirishima…”
He was already dialing.
“On it right now, sir!”
A sleepy voice answered on the other end of the phone.
“Mmm Kir’shma? ‘S late….”
Kirishima hurried to explain that he was needed, and soon, the newest member of their class was hurriedly shuffling down the stairs.
-
Shinso paused at the bottom of the stairs, blinking as he looked at the two men. “Are they really…?”
Dynamight sighed before anyone else could answer.
“That’s why you’re here, Mindfucker.”
Shinso blinked at the familiar nickname in a semi-familiar voice, looking over to where Bakugo stood by Kirishima. Both of his classmates shrugged at him.
Aizawa gestured him closer. He walked over to stand by the teacher who’d taken him in.
“Which one first?”
Red Riot stepped forward, hands held out peacefully.
“I’ll go first. Katsuki hates when you get in his head.”
Shinso smirked - might as well go with the one that had answered. Focusing, he spoke quietly.
“Come three steps closer.”
Red Riot obeyed, and Shinso sank deeper into his quirk’s access to the man’s mind.
“Tell me who you are.”
“Eijiro Kirishima, also known as Red Riot.”
Not sensing deceit, Shinso glanced up at Aizawa, who simply nodded at him to continue.
Refocusing on the redhead, Shinso found that his quirk was still engaged.
He pointed at the sulking blond man who’d been watching the redhead.
“Tell me who that is.”
Red Riot glanced behind him and smiled.
“That’s Katsuki Bakugo, also known as Dynamight.”
Shinso stayed focused, searching for any sign that the redhead was somehow evading his quirk. Finally, he shrugged, carefully easing out of Red Riot’s mind so as not to shock him.
“As far as I can tell, he told the truth. I couldn’t ask deeper questions because that would require him to think for himself.”
Dynamight stepped up to Red Riot’s side, scoffing.
“Of course he told the fucking truth! He was a shit liar in school, and he’s a shit liar now.”
Red Riot shuddered uncomfortably, blinking at Shinso. His voice was dazed.
“Don’t worry, bro. You get better at using it.”
-
Bakugo couldn’t stop staring at the two men that had appeared. He’d thought he was going to be sick as he watched Red Riot - Kirishima grown up holy fuck - slip under Mindfucker’s control.
And the look on Dynamight‘s face was definitely the same face Bakugo made when he didn’t like something but was choosing to stay silent.
Then it was over, and Shinso was confirming that these men were, indeed, themselves as adults.
Next to him, Kirishima had started to tremble, his rapid breathing uneven.
Recognizing the signs of an impending panic attack, Bakugo turned his back on the rest of the room to casually shield his best friend from other eyes as he spoke in a low, stern tone.
“Kirishima, breathe in slow.”
The redhead obeyed, though his breath stuttered as he inhaled.
“Let it out slow.”
A shaky exhale, and Kirishima stopped trembling as his wine-red eyes gained focus on Bakugo’s.
“Again. Slow.”
Kirishima nodded, taking a slow, noticeably steadier breath and holding it for a couple moments before letting out a sigh.
“Thanks, Bakugo,” he whispered, and Bakugo felt his stomach churn as he glanced over his shoulder to see that Aizawa was talking to the Pro Heros.
But Red Riot’s eyes were focused on them over the teacher’s shoulder, the man wearing the soft smile that Bakugo knew with certainty Kirishima wore when either holding a kitten or watching a sweet scene in a romantic comedy.
Then Aizawa was sighing and turning for the stairs, his monotonous voice exposing his exhaustion as he led Shinso away.
“It’s Friday night, so I don’t care if you stay up and screw up your bedtimes, as long as you’re quiet.”
“Yes, sir!” the four voices chorused.