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Katsuki’s absolute pride and fucking joy is his liscence.
‘Hero license, right?’ Kirishima had asked during a late night phone call back in the beginning of second year.
No. No, not his hero license. His driver’s license.
The one with a blurry picture of his ugly mug and useless details about himself printed all over. The one that granted him a sort of freedom that nobody could take away from him.
Control.
So yes, it sits nice and pretty in his wallet on the same clear-plastic flap that his hero license does, because Katsuki likes to look at it and think, ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fuckin’ awesome.’
Considering he has a relatively early birthday, he’d gotten his before most of the other dunces in their class, Tsuyu being the only exception; and although Katsuki treasures this little piece of plastic, nothing pisses him off more than those morons he calls classmates using him as some sort of servant, taking grocery trips and store stops whenever they want.
It’s worse because Aizawa condones that shit, the lazy fucker.
So, that’s how he ends up here, black steering wheel gripped tight beneath white knuckles and tapping fingers as he sits through stop-and-go 5pm traffic after several grueling hours of trying to get everything the idiots had wanted from the grocery store.
Usually, he brings Kirishima with him since the ‘Buddy System’ was heavily recommended for them, but it was Saturday and the guy had returned home hours ago to visit his family. Asshole, leaving Katsuki defenseless against their class’s begging eyes and pathetic pouts.
He jerks to a sloppy stop yet again. The sleek gray Toyota Prius that practically screams, “I’m a dick and I tailgate people!” is on the car in front of it’s ass, and therefore has no sort of space to stop properly.
Fucking Prius drivers he swears they drank Dumbshit Juice for every meal.
“Messing with my goddamn brakes,” Katsuki mutters under his breath, tapping his finger rhythmically onto the steering wheel to some stupid song Kirishima had forcefully added to his playlist a while back. He’d never had the energy to take it off.
In an attempt at rolling his eyes, something bright and yellow catches Katsuki’s eye. He does a double take and there, sitting on the sidewalk, is 10 or so halfdozen bundles of long, healthy-looking sunflowers. A short woman and what looks to be her daughter are jogging back and forth from their red van with more, placing them down on the ground and repeating.
Katsuki scrunches his eyebrows in, snaps his head forward, where the line of cars has yet to move, and then back to the two girls. He’s on the far left of the road, meaning he was nearly directly next to the little detached garden. He looks back in front of him, to the girls, down to the flowers, and then to the red light a couple hundred feet in front of him.
Fuck.
Katsuki rolls down his window.
“Hey,” he calls when the women come back to place another round on top of the others.
The daughter notices him. She’s no older than him, slim, purple eyes and inky black hair tied into a tight ponytail. She places down her bundle and hops over it to come closer to his car, bending with her hands on her knees and a sweet smile.
“Hi, there!”
He resists the urge to roll his eyes and jerks a chin at the sunflowers, gaze flickering in front of him to make sure nothing moves. “What’re those for?”
She turns to look at them, and then back to him. “Oh! My ma’ and I run a lil’ flower shop downtown. Our sunnies don’ sell very well this time o’ year, so we’re givin’ ‘em away!”
Katsuki’s mouth threatens to tick up at her thick accent. He nods and eyes the flowers. “And they’re free?”
“Sure are!”
He thinks of bright hair and brighter smiles and sighs heavily.
“Hand me one, would’ya.”
Her grin grows wide, displaying a row of shiny white teeth. Honestly, the girl would be extremely charming and attractive to probably anyone else. He can imagine Kaminari stuttering and blushing as she hands him a flower and snorts to himself.
She picks up a bundle from her feet, turning and twisting to inspect all 6 flowers. When she deems them enough, she nods to herself and steps closer to his car. “Alright, here ya’ have it.”
He cradles them with the same gentleness she does when she hands them to him through the window, placing them comfortably on the passenger seat. The light ahead turns green.
“Thanks,” he mumbles under his breath.
She catches it and stands up straight, waving softly as she moves back towards her van. “Treat those ladies nicely. I hope your partner enjoys ‘em!”
The car in front of him is trailing away and he curses at not coming up with something snappy to say back to that last statement fast enough, instead only sputtering with a growing scowl. Just as he begins rolling away, the daughter throws her head back and laughs loudly, the mother shouting after him, “Thank ya’, kiddo!”
They’re not for his partner.
Fuck them and their stupid sunflowers that they happen to be leaving five stupid minutes from Kirishima’s stupid apartment complex.
The milk was already getting warm, anyway.
It’s not out of the way. A little turn-in directly on the side of the street Katsuki is currently driving on. He mutters unintelligible curses to himself as he turns into the huge and familiar complex. It’s one of those outdoor ones with the confusing number system and countless buildings set up in a maze-like structure.
Katsuki remembers nearly throwing himself into one of the dumpsters the first time Kirishima had invited him over because he’d got so lost that he was sure he’d found himself in the fucking Labrytnth.
Now, he lefts and rights like nobody's business until he finds himself outside building 31B, Kirishima’s apartment door glowing compared to the other’s on the second floor.
He groans to himself, tossing his head back against the headrest and pushing against his steering wheel because what the actual fuck is he doing?
He’d just seen the sunflowers and known Kirishima’s home was coming up and that the fucker really likes sunflowers, so if two plus two equals fucking four then what the hell was he supposed to do.
Katsuki doesn’t let himself think too much, just grumbles as he swipes up the flowers and hops out of his car, locking it because people are assholes.
He takes the stairs two at a time and prays the family isn’t out to eat or some shit. The golden 8 shines tauntingly on the maroon door, a small, matching plaque reading ‘Kirishima’ a foot away from it.
It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a couple of fuckin’ flowers because they were right there. It’s not like he had to buy them or drive to get them. He sure as hell didn’t want the things so this was just the right thing to do.
Right?
Katsuki shakes his head and raps three heavy-handed knocks on the door. There’s some hushed voices inside and one familiar shout of, “Just get the damn door, Ei,” before the locks and chain click and slide soundly.
The door creaks loudly as it’s pulled open, revealing a curious-looking Kirishima with his head poking out from the side, hair flopping over his face from the angle. Katsuki immediately makes the smart decision to shift the sunflowers behind his back.
He raises his eyebrows and jerks his head like it's obvious it's him at the door, snorting when Kirishima’s round eyes widen significantly and he shoots up, opening the door so quickly that he nearly whacks himself in the face with it.
“Bakugou!” His hair is a wreck from the movement, bangs disheveled and several strands sticking to the corner of his mouth. He sputters, sticking out his tongue and pulling the hair from his face before returning to a blinding, solar-rivaling smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you!”
Katsuki just rolls his eyes and lets himself through the door when Kirishima steps to the side and gestures inside. He scans the living room and immediately catches sight of Hana (the source of the shout) splayed on the couch, Erika and Aiya huddled at the dining table across the room. All their eyes shoot towards him, Hana looking unsurprised and Kirishima’s moms grinning wide.
“Katsuki! What a nice surprise,” Erika says kindly.
Katsuki nods her direction, almost replying, but holding his tongue when all three girls’ eyes flick down towards his back. He clutches the stems tight and bites his cheek.
Hana, the fucker, raises her eyebrows with a smug grin while turning back to her phone. Erika’s lips part to a small ‘o’ and Aiya shakes her head, slowly.
“What are you doing here, man?” Kirishima’s voice snaps him out of his stupor. He’d walked in facing his back away, so Kirishima hadn’t noticed the flowers, yet.
His eyes are wide and soft with his smile and Katsuki’s sure he knows which direction the sunflowers are facing, right now.
He shrugs. “Was on the way back from shopping.”
“Oh, really?” Kirishima steps farther into the room, Katsuki follows. “Dude, you should’ve waited for me to come back. I would’ve gone with you!”
He places the bundle onto the floor on the side of the couch that is near inches from the wall. It slides in nicely, hidden. Kirishima doesn’t notice, too busy dropping himself down onto said couch, much to Hana’s annoyance. She cringes and kicks his arm and Katsuki huffs a laugh.
“‘S fine,” he assures. It’s an L-shaped couch, so Katsuki seats himself on the edge of the chaise. “I can shop for fuckin’ groceries on my own.”
Erika calls a, “Language,” from the table and Hana snorts. Kirishima waves them off. “Still, it sucks that they make you do that all the time. Just wait, I’ll get my license soon and then I will be able to get all the groceries!”
Ah, he says that until he’s stuck in two hours of traffic for a 20 minute drive.
“You failed your permit test twice,” Katsuki reminds.
Aiya and Hana snicker loudly, to which Kirishima sinks into the couch and kicks at Katsuki’s thigh. “Dude, I thought we agreed to like– never bring that up again.”
“No, you begged and I said, ‘Get the fuck out of my room.’”
“Language!”
“I’m just recounting the story!”
Kirishima laughs quietly, all crinkled eyes and toothy grins. He pushes a chunk of hair from his face with the heel of his hand and moves to sit criss-cross-applesauce. Something warm churns in Katsuki’s gut.
“Are they not gonna melt, though?” Kirishima asks, worriedly.
Katsuki shrugs. “Dunno. If they do, ‘s a good thing the fu– idiots deserve it.”
“You’re such a sweet boy, Katsuki,” Erika coos.
“I hate you guys!”
Kirishima bats at his shoulder. “Bakugou.”
“What? She doesn’t care,” he defends. Which is true, Erika could not give one lesser of a fuck, especially when she knows she’d been egging him on. It’s part of the reason he’s fine with spending so much time here. The Kirishima’s had accepted him and his snappy personality in seconds and just like their son, didn't take anything he said or did personally.
It was fun.
“Okay, but still. You should get back to the dorms, dude.”
“Already kicking me out? Damn, I thought we had more than this,” he says sarcastically, voice laced with mock-hurt. He knows he’s stalling. Definitely stalling. He came here for literally one thing.
“Oh, don’t with that,” Kirishima says around a smile. He pushes from the couch, making sure to whack Hana on the head while at it. She kicks at him, again, barely missing. Katsuki follows in suit, probably a little too quickly to look normal considering Kirishima’s pinched eyebrows, still smiling.
“C’mon, I’ll walk you out!” he cheers. “Y’know if you wanted to talk to me so, so much, you coulda’ just facetimed me.”
Katsuki ignores the tease and clenches his fist around the cloth of his jeans, feeling his heartbeat begin to knock impatiently on his chest. Now or fuckin’ never.
“Nah. Didn’t wanna talk.”
It’s quiet for a beat. Then, “Oh.”
“That’s… not what I meant,” Katsuki backpedals. Around, the girls grin knowingly and pretend they aren’t listening. He cringes hard and sighs. “I was just supposed to drop something off and fu– and then leave.”
“Oh,” Kirishima says, more excitedly this time. “Sure, what is it? Did you get me something from the store? Oh my god, Did you pick up those bars I like?! I just ran out, dude, I would love you forever if you did–”
In the middle of Kirishima’s spew, Katsuki leans over the arm of the sofa and grips the bundle around shaking fingers, hoping his sweat wouldn't affect the things in any way. He brings them up without looking Kirishima in the eye and stands, shifting from his heels to his toes.
And then it’s quiet. Eerily quiet. Kirishima cuts off his rant, the girls hold their breath, and Katsuki is internally burning.
Somehow he manages, “Just these.” He almost surprises himself; it’s calm and aloof sounding, even if he’s eyeing the pedals like a lifeline.
And when it stays quiet, Katsuki tears his gaze away from them, nearly flinching at the brightness that is Kirishima’s smile. He’s staring not at the flowers, but at Katsuki, eyes flickering about his face. The corner’s of his eyes are wrinkled like he’s been smiling for ages and his tanned cheeks are dusted with soft pink, red eyes twinkling like rubies pulled straight from Burma.
It melts Katsuki inside and out, turning every one of his limbs to jelly and taking whatever scowl he had on his face and throwing it out a window. How someone can look so stellarly under cheap, artificial lights, Katsuki hadn’t a damn clue.
“For me?” Kirishima asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid of breaking the fragile glass between them that had always intersected the line between Boy and Friend.
But fuck if Katsuki’s not an asshole. He swallows hard and conjures up a look of pure seriousness. “No, they were actually for your mom.”
And just like that, any tension in the room is snapped like a rope.
Hana cackles like a goddamn demon on the couch, completely ditching her phone and clutching at her stomach, face muffled in one of the throw pillows. Erika gasps around the beginnings of a grin and Aiya clutches at her wife’s shoulder as she attempts to stay on the chair, laugh rivaling her son’s, loud and uncontrolled.
But Katsuki sees none of that because he’s staring directly at Kirishima, who attempts to drop his jaw in betrayal, but is blocked by the intensity of his smile. He takes a step forward and jabs at Katsuki’s shoulder, who can’t hide the lopsided and accomplished tilt of his lips.
“You are such an asshole,” Kirishima laughs, void of any of the hurt he is trying to portray.
Katsuki takes the moment to push the sunflowers against Kirishima’s chest, waiting until the other is holding them before letting go. “Yeah, they’re for you, shitface,” he admits, glancing at Erika out of the corner of his eye. “Some girls are leaving them on the fuckin’ sidewalk right down the street.”
Kirishima looks down at the flowers like they were molded from the sun Herself, smile turning wobbly and close-lipped. “Street flowers,” he muses, playfully. “My favorite.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and wipes his palms on his jeans. “Whatever, dumbass. That’s all I had to drop by for.”
He starts towards the door and Kirishima jolts out of his trance. “Wha– You can’t just go after that!”
Katsuki grips the cold doorknob and snorts. “You were literally kicking me out a minute ago!”
“No, stay a second!”
“I have fucking groceries!”
“To hell with the groceries!”
“Language!”
Kirishima’s composure drops and he’s laughing, moving the flowers to the side as he takes three big steps forward so his face is mere centimeters from Katsuki’s own. His free hand comes up quicker than Katsuki can process and then there’s lips on his own.
It’s short and chaste and gentle and Katsuki doesn’t even have time to close his eyes or to kiss back before Kirishima is ushering him out of the door with a dopey grin and sunflowers in his hands.
“Okay, go, go, go!”
“What– Kirishima, what the h–”
“You have groceries, go!”
There is incomprehensible chatter and cheers and ‘boo’s from inside and Katsuki’s face is on fucking fire. His lips feel like they’re being pricked by needles made from clouds and then he’s outside and the door is half-closed in his face.
Like they’d teleported back in time to 15 minutes ago, Kirishima’s head is tilted sideways and poking from behind the door. He props his chin on the side of it and a honey flavored smile marks his lips.
“Thanks for the street flowers, Bakugou.”
And then the door is fully closed in his face.
“What the fuck.”
Katsuki’s thoughts run back to soft lips, gentle hands, and sunflowers bowed kindly towards bright hair and brighter smiles.