Work Text:
Katsuki was not a touchy person.
His family realized this at a young age, when at four or five, he stopped holding hands to cross the street. His mom had believed it to be just an independent kind of thing, a look how cool I am, mom, I can do this thing all by myself, but then he squirmed out of hugs even when no one was there to see. Not independence, not embarrassment, what could it be? The last time Mitsuki can recall hugging her son was when he won a race in fourth grade, when he’d crossed the finish line and bounded into her arms, fueled by adrenaline.
In school, he avoided touch. He didn’t play any contact type games in gym, none that involved neutral hand holding, none that had any kind of pulling or bonding. He didn’t touch any other students unless it was out of anger, out of a burning desire to win. The students didn’t touch Bakugo, none of them wanted their clothes singed.
Except that one time.
Except that one time a girl from the year under him had walked up, radiating nerves, and interlocked their pinkies.
After years of no contact, butterflies shot straight to Katsuki’s stomach. He didn’t have the will to push her away, instead, he slowly put together the rest of their fingers.
She came over to his house a handful of times. The last time she came over, the last time they talked, was when they were watching a movie and they’d fallen asleep on the couch. His parents hadn’t been home, and he woke up to her arms wrapped around his waist, pulled into her chest. He felt warm and fuzzy, like ramen after playing out in the cold, or a popsicle on the hottest day of the year, something that felt nothing but good.
He couldn’t have this.
He untangled himself before she woke up, and cut all contact without an explanation the next evening.
Katsuki laid on his bed, staring up at his ceiling. His lip wobbled, but no tears were in his eyes. Teeth tore into his bottom lip, it stilled. I won’t touch anyone ever again, he resolved. I won’t trust anyone again. I’ll rely on myself, myself only. I want the touch, I’ll deny myself it, I can’t miss it or long for it if I never have it. He missed the girl’s palm against his own. With a belly full of shame, he reached over with his opposite hand, tracing over his limp wrist as she’d done. He wrote letters, spelling out random words as she used to. She’d written what she thought too hard to say, he’d only ever managed to make out a carefully written I like you. He knew that the touch tickled, and he traced the letters of that phrase again. He couldn’t get her touch right, why not? He let out a frustrated sigh, sliding his fingers up and interlocking them with his own, pushing his own interlocked hands under his pillow.
If I cannot provide it for myself, I won’t have it. I won’t depend on anyone again.
-
It got worse as time went on. By eighth grade, he’d gone two successful years without a single caring touch. The longing in his belly was gone, he only felt disgust when he saw the new, two-week-long couples on the swingsets, looking at each other with loving eyes and thumbs tracing the backs of entwined hands. How could they enjoy something so publicly, so shamelessly? He just didn’t get it.
He focused any occasional longing he felt into his studies, into training and pushing harder. He was going to make it into UA and he was going to become the top hero, heroes didn’t have time for things like love, not hugs or cuddles, not handholding or loving looks. At the thought of each of these things, Katsuki pushed, doing another set of pull-ups, another set of sit-ups. He pushed until he couldn’t feel his limbs. Why have butterflies when you can feel pure exhaustion racking your body? Satisfaction of a hard day's work fresh on your mind with each painful step you take, what could be better? Certainly not such useless things as hugs and cuddles.
-
He got into UA.
Of course he did, he’d trained harder than any one of those extras.
The first few weeks flew by, he fell into his bed with the familiar ache of exhaustion in his bones, waking up and starting fresh the next morning. Everyone in the class quickly figured out his stance on friends, and each divided into their own separate groups. Even damn Deku made a few friends.
Bakugo was alone.
Except he wasn’t.
The damn teacher didn’t get him. Except he completely, entirely did.
“I understand your difficulties, but you must learn how to complete team exercises.” He’d said, one day after class. “Relationships with your classmates are going to be extremely important, it’s easier to try and fit in sooner rather than later.” Bakugo only grumbled. How the fuck was he supposed get to know his classmates now? It’d already been three weeks. “I was just getting to that,” He’d spoken aloud, apparently. “I’m pairing you up with one of the more outgoing people in this class to try and get you to speak to more people. He seems to be the most well liked one in the class, asides from Midoriya, who I’m sure you won’t want to work with.” Aizawa took the grumble as a yes. “Kirishima is going to be your partner for the teamwork project.” Katsuki grit his teeth, but nodded nonetheless. The guy was strong, for sure, but he was so annoying. He was loud and he was so vibrant, he talked with the other loud, annoying kids and they were all so overwhelming. Sure, he was well liked, but he couldn’t tell why. The thing that bugged Bakugo was how shamelessly he touches others.
In the couch on the dorms, he would strew his legs over other’s. He would sit next to someone, shoulders touching shoulders, thighs touching thighs. He would bump knees and playfully hit other’s hands. God- he even held hands with some of his friends. Bakugo nearly said something about it when he saw him cuddle with that damn electric kid. Cuddle. As friends. In a public place.
The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to do this project with the kid.
He found himself in Kirishima’s room the next evening, sitting awkwardly at his desk and searching through articles on teamwork. Kirishima was splayed out on the floor, surrounded by dumbbells and other workout equipment. He gave a loud sigh as he set down his work, rubbing his eyes.
“Can we take a break?” He asked, for about the third time in an hour.
“Fucking whatever, you can, lazy ass.” He grumbled. Kirishima whined,
“Just five minutes, ‘m not lazy.” He shook his head, “Just take five minutes and rest your eyes.”
“Fuck off, shitty hair.” He stuck out his bottom lip, pondering something for a moment.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Orange,” he answered on instinct.
“Animal?”
“Shark.”
“Aw nice- they’re pretty cool,” He thought for another second, “Favorite random thing you know about?” Bakugo sat back a little bit in his chair,
“Theory that the speed technology is increasing is speeding up,” He leaned back a little further, looking up at the ceiling as he dove into the theory, waving his hands around climatically at parts he found particularly exciting. It was only when he started discussing a scientific conference did his jaw drop at Kirishima.
“Fuck you.” He grumbled, picking up his pencil and trying to get back to work.
“Aw c’mon- you totally deserved those few minutes.” Katsuki tried to read, ignoring him, but it didn’t work. It wasn’t until he felt the hand on his calf that he completely froze. His jaw locked up, and he could hear Kirishima speaking, something about taking a few more minutes, rest his eyes or some bullshit. He tugged his leg away and tossed his pencil on the table. He could still feel the gentle but firm ghost of a hold on his calf, the warmth of his fingers through his thin sweatpants, the most gentle pressure where his thumb had gone in circles just under the back of his knee. He felt his face heat. How could he still feel it? It had only lasted a few seconds, and he’d let go nearly a minute ago.
“Fine.” He grumbled, “Five minutes.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He felt them pulsing, straining from the bright light. He pushed the base of his palms against them, hoping it would help, but it only made things worse. He winced at his growing headache. He felt the brush of touch against his shoulder. He ignored the way he had to push down a shiver.
“You alright man?” Bakugo grumbled something, even he wasn’t sure what he’d said. “C’mon, we got a whole week to do this project and we already have most the research done for the essay bit, why don’t we call it a day?” Bakugo couldn’t reason against that, he was right. He opened his eyes at a click to see his laptop had been closed, pushed back on the table. He closed his eyes again, why was the light so damn bright? He felt a solid hand on his shoulder, fingertips running so gently across his skin. He didn’t mean to lean into the touch- why had he?
The hand went up to the back of his neck, working at the start of a pinched nerve there. His hands were big and warm, he was curious how they’d feel squeezing his sides. He bets that Kirishima could pick him up and just hold him there with ease.
...
Why had he thought that?
His hand was moving up further, starting it’s journey through Katsuki’s hair. He leaned into the touch and Kirishima could tell this felt good for him. Curious, he gently dragged one of his nails across his scalp, and Bakugo... purred? It was the softest humming, almost like he didn’t mean to do it. Bakugo hadn’t meant to do it, but god, his hands just felt like heaven on his scalp. His hands worked their way through, spending their time in little places that made Katsuki want to melt. This was taking a while, both of them knew that this couldn’t be considered idle anymore. His hand left his hair, and then Kirishima was standing at his side. His hand started again at his far temple, rubbing tiny circles that made what little was left of his headache disappear. His hand ran down, fingers drifting over his cheekbone, every spot they’d made contact was on fire, like someone had poured gasoline across his shoulder, up his neck and to his temple, and Kirishima had flicked a match.
His hand came down to his jaw and the tiniest pressure was put there, enough for Katsuki to turn his head to Kirishima. His eyes were crimson, flicking between his two ruby eyes and the softest smile came over him. He brought his hand up once more, flattening his palm against Katsuki’s cheek, cupping his face oh so gently. Katsuki closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He turned his face into the palm, it radiated such a comforting warmth across the corner of his lips. He felt... safe.
What was he doing?
He pulled back abruptly, looking dazed. He blinked and looked around the room, cheeks heating red. He looked at Kirishima, who only looked at him with concern. He swallowed nervously as he collected his things, stuffing them in his bag. He slung it over his shoulder. When he spoke, he knew Kirishima could hear the bubble in his voice, a tell tale sign that he, Bakugo Katsuki, was about to cry.
“Don’t... don’t touch me like that again. If it’s not a fucking punch, don’t lay a hand on me.”
And he was gone.
-
He laid in his bed, angry, red hot regret burning in his stomach. Why had he let that happen yesterday? How had he let that happen so easily? He was weak- if that one guy could break down all of the walls he’d put up over the years in just a few hours of knowing him, how could he ever do this?
He brought his hand up to his shoulder, putting his fingers just as Kirishima had, ran them up slowly across his neck, then up through his hair.
It... didn’t feel the same.
He skipped his scalp after realizing, no matter how many different ways he tries scritching there, it wouldn’t be Kirishima. He brought his hand hesitantly up to his cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear just as Kirishima had. He turned his face into the touch, more so than yesterday, so that nearly half of his lips were covered. He closed his eyes in shame as he turned his face further, preparing his hands for an ‘explosion’ so they’d be warm, like Kirishima’s, but never actually setting one off. He pressed his lips to his palm, just a little firmer than normal. He felt tears of shame trickle down his cheeks as he kissed his own palm, desperate.
The longing that had been absent for nearly three years was back, and it seemed all that had been building up was back in a day.
He had to find something to fix this.
What do you do when someone breaks down your walls?
You shove them out and start building up the damn walls again, this time, stronger.
Bakugo would be fine by his damn self. He just needed to learn how to make his own touch satisfying enough, just enough to get rid of the longing.
-
Bakugo did not, in fact, figure out how to make his own touch satisfying again.
Nothing that would ever compare to how Kirishima’s hands had felt like fire across his body, how it made his low belly warm and spread throughout him like smooth honey. It wouldn’t be the same, no matter how long he tried.
He was getting damn fed up with thinking about it so often.
“Hey- shitty hair.” He called across the common room. Kirishima’s head poked up from behind the couch. “You busy?” He shook his head. “Want to train?” He asked, glaring at him to say otherwise. He was hopping over the back of the couch in a second,
“Yeah! I’ve been wanting to go against you since the beginning of the school year!” He was running up to him already. “Let’s go!” He shouted, hopping from foot to foot excitedly. Shit- Bakugo hadn’t thought he’d agree, he was just hoping that he’d be able to go against the dumbass, their quirks seemed easily compatible. That’s what he told himself, anyway. Part of him was hoping to just get some sort of contact with the guy.
They made their way out to the training field, minimal words spoken between them. Kirishima had tried to make conversation, but it was mostly answered with hums or grunts. They got to the training grounds, standing across from one another.
“Let’s do this.” He whispered, mostly to himself. Kirishima gave him a certain look that he couldn’t quite place, took a deep breath, and then started the match.
Sparring was one of Katsuki’s favorite things to do, especially in class. They had a system where they’d rotate, so by the end of class, you’d gone against nearly half the class. Except it was just him and Kirishima today- they’d never gone against eachother, somehow.
Explosions surrounded Kirishima, his skin hardening and easily deflecting them. He went around Bakugo, somehow trying to get behind him. What was his goal? Was he going to do some kind of surprise attack? Bakugo wouldn’t let him, obviously. He threw another explosion his way, this time bigger than the last few, and he was thrown a bit backwards by it’s power. With all of the training, he’d sweat off some weight, he couldn’t hold his ground as easily as before. Katsuki continued to close the distance between them, backing him up into the large wall of rock behind him. Kirishima’s eyes darted back and forth, he saw an opening, the only one that Katsuki had left open for him. He pushed himself off the way, keeping his back hardened as Katsuki dove for him- he knew he would take that way out. He knew it, so why didn’t he push him to the ground right then and there?
He continued following him, some sort of cat and mouse game, until he could see the split second that Kirishima really took it seriously. His game changed, and suddenly it wasn’t cat and mouse, not predator and prey, it was the two of them going at eachother- a dog fight.
Kirishima charged forwards, a certain glint in his eye that made Katsuki’s knees weak, and easily brushed off the explosions, dug his feet into the ground and didn’t budge as Katsuki fired explosions one after another at him- he was getting better. Katsuki was forced to back up a bit, much to his displeasure, as Kirishima would not stop coming towards him. He wasn’t going to run, that was for sure. He pushed back on Kirishima’s shoulders, a mixture of rock and muscle rippling under his fingertips, and let out small pops, small enough to push him back but none to actually hurt him. Kirishima stood his ground the best that he could, even taking further steps forward- what could Katsuki do?
He was sent into shock as Kirishima reached out, putting his hands on his biceps and pushing him back, hands still gripping onto him. Perfect- here was his opening- all he had to do was bring his leg up and lean forward, push him to the ground with his knee.
Except he liked Kirishima’s hands on him.
That thought gave Kirishima the time he needed, pushing Katsuki back against the wall that he’d had him pinned against not long before. Kirishima let his forearms rest against the rock, caging him in.
“Does this count as a pin, Bakugo?” His voice was unfairly low, sending that same warm, honey-like feeling throughout Bakugo’s body.
“Fuck off-” He managed to whisper as Kirishima’s arms grew closer, chest pressing up against chest. He hopes Kirishima believed the disguise of frustration, not seeing through to the clear breathlessness of Katsuki’s voice.
Katsuki could feel Kirishima’s thrumming heartbeat against his own. He was close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in his irises, how small strands of hair came out of his bun and framed his face perfectly. He could feel his his chest rose and fell with each breath, and he could feel him exhale against his own mouth, which should have been disgusting but somehow it made Katsuki weak. He could see the determination still shining in his eyes, and how they flickered between each of Katsuki’s own. He could feel his forearms coming to close in, holding his shoulders in place. He could see him waiting for a further answer, was it a pin?
Hell, Katsuki was definitely rendered useless.
There was too much contact- and it was turning into something more playful than angry, it wasn’t an all out brawl anymore- with a flick of a tongue wetting his lips that morphed into a smirk, he realized that this asshole was teasing him.
“Go again.” He grunted, shoving Kirishima back. How had he let himself get pinned so easily? He needed to get control of this whole touch thing, sooner rather than later.
-
Katsuki had managed to get control of himself the rest of that time.
It had been over three weeks ago.
The project was long done with, so why did he still hang out with that jackass? Let alone the rest of his fuckwad friends?
They were loud and obnoxious, dunce-face laughed loudly and it filled the room, the kind that made other people’s heads turn to see just who the dickwad was who couldn’t control his volume. Soy sauce had this stupid fucking grin that he would always flash everyone after some shitty pun- no, katsuki had never laughed at one that caught him off guard, the condiment bitch was just a liar- that made everyone groan. Alien fucker was loud too, she even played her music too loud. She talked about tv shows that literally no one at the table had seen, yet Katsuki thinks he could explain the entire plot of season nine without any help. And shitty hair.
Boy, shitty hair could get his own list of why he was fucking annoying.
His hair was shitty and too vibrant, just like his personality was. He knew everything about everyone, which was just fucking creepy and weird. He gave a fuck about everyone, which was just... weird and too parent-like, except it oddly wasn’t. He explained things to Katsuki when he didn’t understand them, but in a way that didn’t make him feel like he was being spoken down too, which was just weird of him. He invited Katsuki along to everything the group did together, he continued to invite him even after he said no. When he finally agreed to going to the damn arcade with them, he made sure that Katsuki knew his presence was appreciated, that everyone had a good time and they were glad he was there. It was way too damn considerate of him, he cared way too much and was so goddamn annoying- he hung around Katsuki too much and that made Katsuki think about him too much. He would make sure that Katsuki got enough to eat after he found out he would sometimes literally forget to, which went under the list of him still caring too much.
Like now- the guy was taking turns playing Mario Kart (fuck the fact that there’s only four wii remotes available to sync) and he even let him choose the character (bowser, obviously). He let him take the couch, sitting on the floor with his head leaning up against Bakugo’s thigh (if was for Kirishima’s happiness, not Bakugo’s, so maybe he’d let it slide). He cheered him on when he won, even going as far to brag about how well he’d done to the other three idiots. Bakugo had let down his guard and, after winning a particularly close match against Soy sauce, he turned down to look at Kirishima and he beamed, cheering as his character did laps around the track while the other two whined and just tried to finish the race. Sero pouted on the other couch, but Kirishima... he was looking at him with a certain glint in his eye.
He finally placed it- the same look he’d seen before, when they were sparring and just about to rush eachother, and when they’d finally finished the damn project at three in the morning and got to close their laptops and just looked at eachother for a minute.
It was fondness.
Bakugo’s smile didn’t falter as he tried to channel that same feeling back, laughing openly as Soy sauce continued to dramatically sulk. Kirishima smiled up at him, nudged his thigh with his cheek.
“Good job,” He whispered, just loud enough so that Katsuki alone could hear. He basked in the praise, the same honey feeling, something like when you step into the sunlight on a summer day.
“C’mon, lets see if you can smoke their dumbasses’ too.” He said, handing him the controller. The next match started. Katsuki would never say it out loud, but Kirishima was good at the game. He got first nearly everytime without trying, even on rainbow fucking road- it was impressive, and, if it were possible on this forever old wii, he’d say Kirishima was cheating.
Katsuki watched the race, leaning forwards as Kirishima rounded his second lap. He looked down, he’d kicked ass in that last match, maybe he could reward himself just a little? Just an ounce more contact?
He lifted his hand from his knee, moved it just those few inches, and carded his fingers through Kirishima’s loose hair. He’d left it down tonight, said keeping it up too long gives him headaches, and it was unfairly soft, considering how much product goes in it on a daily basis. He played with it as they rounded the second match, but he wasn’t particularly interested in the game, he focused instead on his comforting his hair felt through his fingertips.
He grew bold and moved his fingers up to Kirishima’s roots. Black hair was just beginning to show through, but only enough to see if you were right up close to him. He dragged his fingers along his scalp, taking to a spot just behind his ear and rubbing his nail back and forth, doing the same in different spots as he let himself indulge. Just until the end of Kirishima’s turn. He promised himself, he wouldn’t let himself become dependent on something as trivial as touch.
“Kirishima, man- are you playing blindfolded?” Katsuki looked up at the screen. All the other three idiots had finished, and Kirishima was nearly in dead last- okay, only eighth, but is might as well have been last considering Kirishima has won all four of the Mario Kart Class 1a tournaments thus far. Dunce faced looked over, having just crossed the finish line according to the little dance that toad was doing on screen.
“Oh- I get it.” He smirked, knowing glint in his eyes. Kirishima focused on the screen, puffing out his cheeks all adorable like and not even sparing a glance to the other three. His cheeks were bright red, as were his ears. I wonder if he’s one of those people who blushes with their whole body. Jesus- fuck off, stupid thoughts, why would that matter.
“Get what?” Katsuki asked, scratching the spot behind his ear once more. He looked around the room, looking from Alien to Condiment to Pikachu.
“What’s happening different now than every other match he’s played.” Mina said, saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Katsuki thought. Well, he normally played as a different character, but he played just fine with Bowser last round. Maybe it was a bad angle? No- he’d sat on the floor last time, too. He kicked ass at moo moo meadows, too. Now was typically the time when Kirishima would point out whatever he was missing.
“Really? It’s super obvious, dude.” Kaminari said, “He’s-”
“Kami, please.” The voice didn’t sound like Kirishima’s, it was whiny and it broke on one of the syllables. Bakugo went quiet, as did the rest of the group, as Kirishima’s character timed out of the race.
Weird.
They played the next match, but Katsuki’s phone had gone off and he’d needed to take his hand away from his hair to answer to his stupid mother, he’d already assured her about a billion times that he was adjusting to dorm life just fine, why did she keep asking?
By the time he managed to close the conversation and get her to leave him the fuck alone, the match was over. Like normal, Kirishima got first. Mina started whining,
“C’mon, Bakugo-!” He looked up, lifting an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Put your hand back in his hair or whatever you were doing- make him keep losing.” She whined. He looked down- Kirishima was blushing even more heavily than before.
“Aw- c’mon guys.” He whined. Bakugo leaned down,
“Was that why you lost?” Kirishima looked down, not responding. “Hmm?”
“It just... it felt nice, that’s all.” He murmured. The other three argued over which map to pick next while they spoke.
“Do you... want me to stop?” He asked. Kirishima shook his head,
“I just- uh-” He paused, lifting his hand and pointing behind his ear. “Here, it felt...” As he searched for a word, Bakugo lifted his hand to scratch the spot he’d pointed to. As soon as his blunt nails made contact, Kirishima’s eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting as he leaned into the touch. Had he been doing that the entire race? No wonder he lost. Tension in his shoulders dropped as he scratched, his breathing dropped even and he just seemed still. Confused, Katsuki brought his fingers to that spot on his own body, scratching experimentally.
“Feels better with other people,” Kirishima explained, bringing his hand up into his own red hair and doing the same thing Katsuki had been doing just moments prior, his fingers lingering just an inch away. He ignored the butterflies in his stomach as their fingers brushed. Kirishima glanced at the others for a moment before leaning up to sit on his knees, “See- lemme...” He murmured, trailing off as he lifted his hand to reach that spot on Bakugo. His fingertips made contact and, with the first scratch, Katsuki melted. He leaned into the touch without meaning too, fighting to keep his eyes open and on Kirishima’s. “See?” Katsuki nodded and Kirishima pulled his hand away. Bakugo had to hold in a whine at the lost contact. He looked up to see Dunce face staring at him with a knowing grin on his face. Bakugo felt himself blush, pushing himself off the couch.
“Tired- ‘m going to my room.” He mumbled, not even caring that it was only just past six.
He laid in his room again that night and longed for touch.
Sometime later, it must’ve been nearing midnight, he heard a gentle scraping by his door. It only lasted for a second before he heard footsteps going away from him door. He stood up, cautious as he opened the door. No one was on the other side, but the hallway light illuminated the floor below him.
A folded note.
He picked it up, unfolding it cautiously- last time he did this he got a damn glitter bomb from fuck munch.
It wasn’t glitter- it was Kirishima’s handwriting.
sorry- you told me not to touch you and I did
I won’t do it anymore
Oh... oh no.
Kirishima thought... he thought he left because of him.
He shoved the letter in his pocket, walking those few feet to Kirishima’s door. He tapped softly, knowing the boy had just made it into his dorm. It opened quickly. He looked stunned to see Bakugo standing there,
“Don’t apologize, dumbass.” He said, pushing his way into the room. “I don’t- I don’t care.” Kirishima only looked a little bit hurt. “I mean- fuck.” He toed at the floor, hoping for a distraction. “I... it’s fine, now it is. Just... not too much.” Kirishima nodded slowly,
“Like... what is too much?” He asked, head tilting off to the side in a way that was unfairly adorable.
He really needed to stop thinking like that.
“I... just don’t start too fast for anything. It- it makes me... feel too much too soon when you go all at once, like... like when we first did the project and you touched my calf.” He looked down at his hands, picking at his fingernails. “I haven’t been touched for like... the last time I got something more than a quick hug was... like six years ago and it felt... weird. It all still feels weird but...” He let the sentence trail off.
“Bakugo...” His name startled him- god, he forgot to put up his walls again, he was acting too different and Kirishima surely noticed. “You haven’t been touched for... years?” He whispered,
“Well... yeah, I guess. I mean I punched people if that counts, but... I don’t know, fourth grade was the last time I had a hug, I held hands sixth... I- I don’t know, it’s not important.” Kirishima shook his head,
“Katsuki... you can’t... can’t do that to yourself.” He whispered, surprise apparent in his voice. “That’s... one time I went like... two months without a hug and I felt like I was going to explode. You’ve got to be touch-starved out of your mind.”
“What’s that?” He asks.
“It’s... well,” He paused to think about it for a second. “You go too long without touch, so you think about it a lot, and it feel really nice but also like too much when someone touches you after a long time. You want hugs and all that stuff, you crave touch but it’s weird to have it because you haven’t had it for a long time. It’s like you’re staving for food, but for some reason you can’t have it so eventually it’s all you can think about.” Bakugo blinked a few times.
“Yeah...” He whispered. “Shitty hair... when you touched my leg I- I didn’t know what to do.” He looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes. “Do you know how many times I tried to lay there and do what you’d done? It didn’t feel the same, I can’t make it feel the same and it’s not fair.”
“When you want that to happen just ask me.” He whispered. “Whatever you want, I don’t care- it’s not weird, do you know how many times I’ve had to ask other people for a hug? I would’ve asked you but I didn’t think you’d like them.” Bakugo looked at the ground again,
“Doesn’t it make me weak?” He whispered, barely hearing himself.
“No, it’s human- you’re human.” He finally looked up to meet his eyes. They were so... pretty.
“Kirishima?” He whispered, shame filling his stomach. He quickly pushed it aside- this was human.
“Yes?”
“I... can I...” He let out a tiny, frustrated sigh. Why couldn’t he just say it? Kirishima had made it sound so easy. As if understanding exactly what he was trying to say, Kirishima took a small step forwards, opening his arms for Bakugo. He stumbled forwards and his his chest, wrapped his arms around his back. He felt... overwhelmed as strong arms closed around his shoulders. He felt warm and fuzzy and the honey feeling was everywhere. He melted into Kirishima’s chest, and he could hear his heartbeat thrumming if he hunched down enough, but then he was at a weird angle- but he really liked the sound of his heartbeat against his ear. He stood up the rest of the way, tucking his face into his neck and breathing slowly. God- Kirishima smelled so nice. “Don’t... tell anyone about this.” He whispered.
“Pinkie promise,” He whispered. Katsuki’s heart tore as Kirishima pulled back- he wanted, no, fuck that, he needed more. He tried not to let his dissapointment show, but then Kirishima was lifting his hand, pinkie and thumb extended. Katsuki, with shaky hands, brought his up and interlocked their pinkies. His blush lit up red as Kirishima leaned down and kissed his own thumb, squeezing his pinkie before dropping them altogether and pulling Katsuki back into his chest.
He wanted to stay here forever.
“Would you like to lay down?” Kirishima whispered. Katsuki didn’t,
“I still... I still wanna hug...” There was a short pause where all Katsuki could hear was his breathing,
“Trust me?” Kirishima whispered. His first instinct was to say no- but then he thought.
He trusted Kirishima with secrets he hadn’t told anyone before. He trusted Kirishima to fight against him, to know when Bakugo was pushing himself too far and he trusted Kirishima to tell him when to take a break. He trusted Kirishima to touch him carefully, not to push him away and he trusted Kirishima’s hands in his hair.
“Yeah.” He murmured into his neck. Kirishima bent down slightly, large hands gripping onto Bakugo’s thighs and lifting him as though he was the lightest thing in the world. Katsuki held on a little tighter, but he already knew he wouldn’t be dropped. Kirishima carried him over to his bed, setting him down carefully onto the bed after pulling back the sheets.
“Lay down,” He whispered. Katsuki listened without a second hesitation, which surprised him. Kirishima was laying down beside him, reaching over and turning off his lights so only a dim lamp lit the room. “Let me know if it’s too much?” Kirishima whispered breath on Bakugo’s neck. Bakugo couldn’t help but completely melt into him as he pressed his chest into Katsuki’s, wrapping his arms protectively around his waist. “You’ve been... off recently.” He murmured into his hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” Katsuki hesitated, Kirishima knew he did. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, you know.” Bakugo pressed himself further into Kirishima’s chest and he felt his legs curl up against his, his arm moving down so that his forearm was trapping in his entire torso.
This was what Katsuki needed.
He was held, he was safe.
His thoughts couldn’t get him here, Kirishima could keep him safe from them.
“’m tired.” He whispered.
“Sleep,” Eijiro said. “I’ve got you.”
Bakugo swears he’s never felt so content in his entire life.