Chapter Text
They’d been playing this shit for an hour, and Bakugou still didn’t understand the fucking rules of this stupid ass game.
Pinky said she’d seen it on tiktok, where people were climbing on countertops and taking shots, doing dares and climbing across the room while trying to match playing cards. The video didn’t give much guidance, but the other idiots were relentless and wanted to figure it out. They found an outline for a list of rules online and were trying to piece it together from there.
And sure, Bakugou didn’t have to play, but what else was there to do in this stupid beach house? It had rained for the past 3 days of their squad beach getaway, and Bakugou’d already beaten Sparky in Mario Kart more times than he could count. That shit was getting old fast.
He chalked his willingness to play up to a combination of boredom and going stir crazy.
It definitely had nothing to do with the pleading of a certain redhead.
“Remember, the floor is lava, people!” Kaminari cried, gripping a wooden column in one of the Yaoyarozu’s beach house with his entire body, “You can’t touch it. If you do, you have to spin around four times and take a shot of whatever I hand you. Looking at you , Jirou.”
Jirou unceremoniously flipped him off from her spot on a cushion on the other side of the room.
Bakugou rolled his eyes from atop the granite island countertop, despite the fact that no one was looking his way.
“Bro,” Kirishima called from where he stood on the couch, “I would like to argue that this isn’t suited for those of us with more… solid builds. I literally can’t go anywhere other than the couch, and I’m still scared it might break.”
Sero shrugged from where he was sitting, a swing he’d made of tape that he’d stuck to the high ceilings of the beach house, “Sorry, man. Guess the rest of us, in the most literal sense, are just built different.”
He snickered to himself like he’d just made a clever joke.
“That was his point, Soy Sauce,” Bakugou snapped as the rest of the idiots chuckled around him.
“And I resent that statement,” Mina said, crossing her arms across her chest as she sat, her legs crossed on the kitchen counter, “Blasty’s gotten pretty beefy over the years, and he’s barely complaining!”
“And that’s saying something,” Kaminari added, his voice strained as he held on to the pillar, “Bakubro loves to complain.”
Bakugou threw a plastic knife in Kaminari’s general direction, only to be met with a yelp.
“Yeah, but I’m not a human tank like Shitty Hair.”
And damn, if that wasn’t an understatement.
It wasn’t like the redhead was fully clothed often, but now, as he stood in the trench coat manufactured by Momo when she was asked to showcase a talent (which was apparently her ability to guess anyone’s size just by looking at them) and his boxers, his solidness was really showing.
Bakugou watched as Kirishima’s abs moved as he chuckled at the blond’s statement, the ripples in his skin accentuated by the blue color-changing lights that Kaminari had finally settled on after flipping through the choices for almost an hour (something about “getting the ambiance right” that him and Mina argued over).
Somewhere along the way, Kirishima had gotten huge . His hands could palm a watermelon. Hell, his thighs could crush a watermelon between them. Why the fuck did Bakugou find that so hot?
He wasn’t even sure when the redhead had bulked up so much. Distantly, he wondered if he’d just never given himself the opportunity to gawk at how fucking hot his best friend was for more than a few seconds.
Not that he was gawking now. He was simply… observing.
And he just so happened to observe that Shitty Hair could pick him up with his strong arms that were accentuated by the well-fitted coat and press him against a wall like he weighed nothing, caging him in with his absurdly huge form, that was his business.
He definitely didn’t venture further into his brain, wondering about the way that the redhead’s strong hands would feel as they gripped the back of his thigh, the weight of his ass as he held the blond in place, his strong thighs bring their hips to flush as he trailed his shockingly unchapped lips–
Nope. Bakugou wasn’t thinking about any of that shit. He definitely wasn’t about to take any unrealistic fantasy further than he needed to, especially not in a room full of idiots.
He was simply observant.
And maybe a little bit tipsy from the shots that Sparky had shoved into his hands earlier that night, which he maybe took a little too fast, because he wasn’t about to lose this stupid game to the fucking idiots, whether he knew the rules or not.
(And, okay, for arguments sake, he might say that he was a little bit gay and maybe a tiny bit horny for his best friend.)
If anyone was to blame for the gay panic and the buzz clouding Bakugou’s sense of shame that made him so willing to study the redhead’s form, it was Pinky. Mina was the one that decided to play a game where people had to strip if they couldn’t find a new “island” to stand on.
Mercifully for what little was left of Bakugou’s self respect and self control, the squad agreed to let the idiot keep his underwear, and he had to wear the trench coat until something else happened. Though what, exactly, had to happen was anyone’s guess.
Bakugou still had no fucking clue what the rules were.
“Alright,” Sero called form his seat, “I’m gonna roll the dice. Everyone, pick a number and hold up that many fingers.”
“Why?” Jirou asked, leaning her head onto Momo’s shoulder.
“Ask questions later,” Kaminari called, gripping onto the column for dear life at this point as his limbs shook, “I need the floor to not be lava anymore.”
“You’re a pro hero, moron,” Bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes, “You should be able to hold yourself up.”
“Hey! I’m on vacation, thank you very much,” Kaminari retorted, “No exercise.”
“Alright, alright,” Sero said, holding up his arms, “The floor is no longer lava! Everyone has 3 seconds to get to the middle of the room for the deciding roll. One, two, three, go!” he shouted, tossing the dice as the group scattered to the middle of the room, jumping down from their posts in anticipation of the results.
The group stod in a circle holding up their fingers as they had multiple times before in this stupid fucking game. The only consequence that Bakugou could figure out was that the person that picked whatever number showed up had to complete a simple dare or a stupid little tast that Mina read from one of the cards she printed out.
Bakugou didn’t care about this part. Most of the dares were pretty tame so far, anyway. He held up three fingers.
So did Kirishima.
Lo and behold, two threes appeared on the dice.
“Damn, double threes on the dice,” Mina said, whistling as she turned her head to the blond, “That’s you and Kiri, Blasty.”
“Are you illiterate?” Bakugou scoffed, “That’s a six. So no one has to do the stupid dare–”
“Nuh-uh, Kachaan,” Kaminari replied, grabbing the rule packet from the counter, flinging it into Bakugou’s hands, “The rules are different for doubles. It’s like you weren’t even here when we explained the rules, bro.”
Mina jumped over, snatching the rules out of Bakugou’s grasp, “Yeah, Blasty-babe. If you guys picked the number shown on both dice, which is three in this case, you guys both have to do a dare of the group’s choosing.”
Kirishima groaned, laughing nervously, “Guys, I’m half naked. Haven’t I been subjected to enough dares for the night?”
“Nope. Sorry, Kiri, rules are rules,” Mina said, grinning a bit too smugly for Bakugou’s liking.
He narrowed his eyes at the girl as she leaned over, whispering something to Kaminari, whose eyes widened at her words. He smirked, nodding, before leaning over to whisper something to Momo. Her eyes widened almost comically, just the same as Kaminari did, but she nodded, her expression otherwise neutral.
“Alright, bros,” Kaminari said, his voice smug, “While we discuss the dare, you two are gonna be in the sun room out back.”
Bakugou frowned, his brows furrowing, a complaint on the tip of his tongue, but it was Kirishima that spoke up first, “Oh, c’mon,” he whined, pouting in a way that Bakugou definitely didn’t find adorable, “Momo didn’t have to wait out back.”
“Well,” Mina said, smiling sweetly, “For Momo, we had cards that already had dares on them. There’s two of you, so we’ll need some time to discuss without your big mouths coloring our opinions. It’s only fair that we have a bit of privacy,” she said, ushering them away.
Bakugou scoffed, “That’s fucking stupid. No way am I doing that–”
“Aw, Kachaan,” Kaminari chided, tilting his head in defiance, “You’re not scared of a little dare now, are you?”
Bakugou gritted his teeth.
He obviously knew that this was a trap. Kaminari used those exact words a thousand times back at UA, usually to get Bakugou to participate in some of the dumbest shit he’d ever done. He knew Kaminari was manipulating him, playing to his pride to get him to get along with whatever shitty plan he had in store.
And yet…
“Fuck no. You think I’m scared of whatever your 3 remaining deep fried brain cells are gonna come up with?” Bakugou shot back, smirking.
Kaminari opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly interrupted by Mina covering it with her hand, “Okay. Enough fighting, boys, you’re both pretty. You two go wait in the back room, ‘kay?”
Katsuki rolled his eyes again as Mina ushered the two men out the French doors leading to a small sunroom off of the main living space.
The room was small compared to the rest of the estate, but there were large windows and a skylight overhead that would fill the room with sunlight on hot summer days, sheltering from the heat of the outside. It sat close to the edge of the cliff that the house was built on, giving a clear view of the vast expanse of the ocean and the little beach below. Normally, Bakugou wouldn’t mind being in such a place. Under the right circumstances, it was almost… peaceful.
The storm, however, made for a different experience. The pouring rain pounded on the roof outside, pelting against the windows, echoing through the room.
The only saving grace were the little lights that lined the windows, a warm glow that was just bright enough to make out Eijirou’s face as he turned to him. The room felt almost cozy in the storm, thanks to them.
“Oof,” Mina said, grimacing, “The rain is so freaking loud. I can barely hear myself think! And that’s saying something, huh? I’m just gonna shut these door until we’re ready for you, ‘kay?” she said sweetly, pulling the doors closed behind her before waiting for a response.
The rain was so loud, it was fucking with the specialized hearing aids that Mae had made for him a few months before. Maybe that’s why Bakugou didn’t notice when Mina turned the lock.
Kirishima didn’t have that problem. He straightened suddenly, running over to the door handle to jiggle it violently, “Uh, Mina? I think you maybe locked us in here.”
Bakugou would’ve thought that the redhead had imagined it if it weren’t for Pinky’s stupid, self satisfied smirk that peered back at them through the windows.
“What?” she called through the glass, poorly feigning confusion, “I can’t hear you. The glass is soundproof and quirk-proof from the outside! Oops!”
“Oi,” Bakugou snapped, reaching to jiggle the door handle, “The fuck is wrong with you? It’s a god damn monsoon out here and you’re locking us in?”
Mina shrugged in response, still smiling, “Oh, please, you’re so dramatic. You’re still inside!”
“Mina, you just said that it was soundproof,” Kirishima shouted, banging on the door again.
“Oh. Okay, well, I lied about that part. I just don’t feel like answering your questions,” she smirked, shrugging her shoulders, “But, it is quirk-proof! No breaking in from the outside, I’m afraid.”
“What the fuck, Pinky?!” Bakugou shouted, banging on the glass as his palms began sparking,
“Dude, take a breath,” Kirishima said, grabbing the blond’s shoulder. Katsuki noticed his free hand was gripping into a fist, probably to keep from shaking, “We can’t wreck the house. It’s just a stupid game. We’ll just do whatever they want us to, and then they’ll let us out of here.”
Bakugou turned around to snap at the redhead, only to be met with him holding a finger in Bakugou’s face as he looked intently at his phone, “Hold on. It’s Kaminari.”
He answered, putting the phone on speaker, “Dude. You know how I feel about tight spaces. Not cool.”
“We thought about that. But, the whole room is full of windows. It’s the least claustrophobic you could be in a single room. You’re basically outside,” Mina sang.
“And anyway,” Kaminari chimed in, “We thought you might like a little bit of privacy for your dare.”
Bakugou stiffened, his eyes raising to meet Kirishima’s worried gaze.
“What the hell does that mean, you overused spark plug?”
“Ow. Hurtful,” Kaminari whined, “Bro, I have feelings, you know–”
“Focus,” Jirou snapped, her voice sounding distant before a soft thwack sound landed next to the speaker.
“Ow! You guys are so aggressive. I should’ve been friends with Mid–”
“Don’t fucking finish that sentence unless you want the whole house up in flames,” Bakugou growled into the phone.
Kirishima looked at him almost amused, snorting slightly, only to be elbowed by the blond in front of him.
“So? Your fucking point?” Bakugou snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Well,” Kaminari started, leaning into the word, “We just figured that you guys wouldn’t want to make out in front of us.”
Kirishima was going to kill Kaminari. And probably Mina, too.
And sure, it’s not manly to threaten to murder your best friends. But they knew what they were doing. These are the consequences of their actions.
“Guys,” he called out, trying desperately to keep the panic out of his voice, “There has to be a better dare–”
“Nope,” Mina said, the smirk clear in her tone of voice, “The high council of dares has officially spoken.”
“That was just you and Kaminari,” Kirishima replied, groaning, “No one else had anything to say–”
“Bro,” Kaminari said, clicking his tongue, “We all swore a sacred oath when we began this game. And the rules clearly state that since you have been bequeathed a dare, we can’t let you out until you follow through! Rules are rules.”
“Yeah,” Mina chimed in, tsking, “We can’t just un-bequeath a dare. Be realistic, guys.”
Kirishima groaned, punching a hardened fist against the door. Stupid rich families and their stupid quirk proof architecture. There had to be some way he could break it. He hit the door harder.
“What the fuck happened to no property damage?” Bakugou grumbled under his breath.
“Oh, c’mon Kiri. Don’t be such a baby ,” Mina said, giggling, “You’d rather damage a door that probably costs, like, a billion yen than do the dare? It’s just a little kissing.”
“Yeah, c’mon! Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Kaminari began chanting, the rest of their friends joining in on the idiocy.
Kirishima groaned again, hardening both arms and punching against the door as hard as he could, ignoring the gentle buzz of the alcohol working through his body, causing him to slightly sway.
Bakugou had stayed eerily quiet over the past few moments. Kirishima almost didn’t realize until he felt a calloused hand wrapping around his wrist.
“Oi,” Bakugou called, tightening his grip around Kirishima’s arm to prevent him from banging against the wall again, a firm scowl set on his face, “Calm down. It’s not gonna break, Shitty Hair.”
Kirishima tried not to be distracted by how close they were as the blond stared at him with hooded eyes.
“‘m just saying. Ponytail has more money than god and they’re a family of pro-heroes. You think they’d have a vacation house that hasn’t been quirk proofed?” the blond asked, still holding Kirishima’s arm.
“He’s right,” a tipsy Jirou called out, likely over Kaminari’s shoulder, “The doors and windows are made of some weird material that can withstand stuff hotter than Endeavor’s hellfire and stronger than, like, 5 tonnes, or something.”
“The wood is reinforced with tungsten,” Momo called out, “That makes it basically impossible to break through. Even for you, Kiri.”
Kirishima groaned, “We’ll see. We can try, maybe hitting it harder will–”
“It’s not gonna work,” Bakugou said calmly, scowling.
“See Kiri? If even Blasty is saying–”
“Shut the fuck up, Sparky, gimme a second,” Bakugou snapped, hanging up on their friends.
He let out a shuddering breath, putting his phone back in his pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking another deep breath. It felt like an hour before he spoke, and when he did, Kirishima almost couldn’t believe the words that came out.
“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner they’ll let us out,” Bakugou said, adverting his gaze to the ground as the tips of his ears seemed to tinge pink, even in the dim lighting of the sunroom.
Kirishima felt his own face flush, a lump forming in his throat, “Wh- What?” he choked out.
“I said,” Bakugou growled, tugging the arm still in his grasp to pull the redhead closer to him, turning to face him with a determined look on his face, “Just fucking kiss me. Let’s get it over with.”
Kirishima felt himself flush down to his toes as he stared, wide eyed, at the man in front of him.
“You heard the idiots,” Bakugou continued, his unreadable gaze meeting Kirishima’s, “They’re not gonna let us out until we kiss. And you’re freaking out because you hate being trapped. So let’s just do it already so we can get the hell out of here.”
Kirishima stared at the blond. There was no way that this was reality, “How the hell are you so calm about this?”
Bakugou shrugged, staring down at his feet, “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, dumbass. ‘s just a stupid dare.”
Kirishima turned his whole body toward the blond, raising an eyebrow and trying desperately to think about anything other than the fact that Bakugou, the Bakugou Katsuki , was standing here, holding his freaking hand , in a dimly lit room , offering to kiss him . And his hand was so warm, and he was standing so close that Kirishima could see the little speckles of amber in his eyes, and he smelled so good, and his lips looked so soft, and maybe…
Maybe it wasn’t manly to go back on a dare, afterall.
And Kirishima couldn’t help but think about how pretty Bakugou was, now that he was standing so close to him. Not that he hadn’t thought about it before. He’d had that thought at least once a day for the past 8 years, if not more. It was an undeniable fact.
His mind wandered on its own to the idea that Bakugou proposed; the way that they’d meet in the middle, Kirishima wrapping his arms around Bakugou’s tiny waist, how the blond’s lips would feel pressed against their own, how their bodies would slot together, hands running over Bakugou’s perfectly sculpted chest, wandering lower to grip his ass hard enough to bruise. The beautiful purple marks he would leave on his neck, on his chest, staking his claim, leaving lingering evidence of everything they’d done for days to come.
He wanted that. He wanted it so badly. There was nothing he wanted more, actually, than to kiss the gorgeous man in front of him, to taste him, to embrace him and hold him and show him how much he loved him. To direct all the energy he’d spent hiding his feelings for so long to showing them, to proving them.
But that’s not what this would be.
This would be a stupid dare. This would be something to “get it over with.”
His heart tugged in his chest.
“I can’t,” Kirishima blurted out, faster than he could stop himself.
Bakugou flinched slightly, stepping back from the redhead, finally releasing his grip on the man’s forearm. His face grew red even in the yellow lights surrounding them, “Why the hell not, Shitty Hair? I just fucking said that it’s not a big deal–”
“I can’t ,” Kirishima groaned, rubbing his hand over his face.
Bakugou’s face scrunched up, his eyes shooting daggers at his best friend, “It’s just a fucking game, dumbass, just man up and kiss me so we can get the hell out of this room,” he snapped, almost shouting.
“Bakugou…” Kirishima pressed, his tone more desperate as he trailed off.
Bakugou studied the redhead’s face for a second, a moment of realization before his face fell. He crossed his arms across his chest, frowning, and spat out, with the same amount of venom in his words, “Why the fuck not? Something wrong with me, Kirishima?”
“What? No! It’s– It’s not–” Kirishima sputtered.
“It’s just a fucking kiss, idiot. You’ve kissed tons of stupid extras, but what, I don’t meet your fucking standards?” the blond snapped, hurt seeping into his tone.
“Bakugou–” Kirishima started, reaching out to grab Bakugou’s arm and trying to keep his voice even, trying desperately to come up with something, anything, to say.
“No,” Bakugou snapped, ripping his arm out of Kirishima’s grasp, “No, Kirishima, tell me what your fucking problem is? Because you’re fine fucking any stupid ass groopie that offers. You kissed Tin Man, for fuck’s sake , and you won’t kiss me ?” he hissed.
Kirishima scoffed, “Dude, that thing with Tetsutetsu was, like, 5 years ago, and that has nothing to do–”
“It does so! Because you were fine sucking face with all of those shitty extras, with him , but, what, I’m just too repulsive or some shit? Screw you, Kirishima.”
“I didn’t– This isn’t– You’re not repulsive,” Kirishima finished lamely, frowning, his arms falling to his sides.
Bakugou scoffed, “Then what is the fucking problem? What’s so wrong with me that you won’t even kiss me for some shitty dare?” he asked, still not breaking eye contact, the hurt seeping into his words.
“Nothing! Nothing is wrong with you, it’s– it’s me,” Kirishima interjected, the room suddenly feeling too small.
“Don’t give me that shit,” Bakugou snarled back, his hands sparking, his hands sparking, “Because I’m here, I’m telling you to just get this shit over with, and you’re not–”
“I’m not kissing you, dude! Not like this!” Kirishima snapped before he could think about it.
All at once, the magnitude of what he’d just said slapped him in the face. He could do nothing but stare at the man in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t realize the meaning behind his words.
But the look on Bakugou’s face said otherwise. He stared back at Kirishima, his eyes wide, panicked, as he searched his friend's face for something , some secret code or insight that the redhead couldn’t quite place.
The air in the room felt heavy, electric, and not just from the storm.
Bakugou blinked up at him, swallowing thickly, “What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Fuck.
“I– Nothing dude! I just– No, I didn’t– I didn’t mean anything,” Kirishima sputtered out lamely, stopping himself as he rubbed another hand down his face in frustration.
His gaze lifted to meet Bakugou’s again, trying desperately to read the blank expression that the blond wore.
He said nothing, showed nothing, as he stared up at Kirishima’s face, studying it.
And, shit, when did Bakugou get so damn close again? Kirishima felt the blond’s body heat radiating off of him, could hear, could feel , the shallow breaths Bakugou was taking over the sound of the rain pounding against the windows.
And suddenly, it was all too much. Kirishima felt the familiar itch burning in his limbs as his heartbeat pounded in his ears, the feeling that he should, had to run, had to get the hell out of this place as fast as possible.
He felt like he was suffocating in this enclosed space, his lungs felt like he was breathing fire with every shallow breath he managed. The pounding of the rain outside felt grating, like his brain couldn’t handle another sound or sight or feeling without imploding on itself.
He tried to steady his breathing, but it was impossible , there wasn’t enough air in this fucking room, and he just had to get the hell out, to run, to go , to leave this tiny room and his stupid, careless friends that locked him in here.
He turned towards the windows suddenly, reaching out to the locks to figure out if any of them could open, if any of them could give him some semblance of freedom or let in a bit of fresh air, anything that might make him feel less like he was drowning.
“The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked as Kirishima felt the edges of each of the windows, desperately searching for an exit.
“I have to– I have to get out,” Kirishima choked out, finally finding a window that could actually open and pushing it forward. The rain was somehow even louder outside, the drops each slapping against the pavement and the shutters of the roof.
“What the fuck ?” Bakugou scolded, shouting now as he wrapped his hand around Kirishima’s wrist, his touch burning his skin, “Are you an idiot? It’s been raining for 3 days and we’re on the second floor. You’ll fall off the roof, dumbass.”
“That’s fine,” Kirishima replied a bit too quickly, the words coming out of his mouth before he could realize that they were being spoken. Nothing else mattered, he needed to be out .
Bakugou swore under his breath, tugging on the arm he held, “Don’t move, idiot. You’re drunk and you’re panicking. It’ll be fine, just let me call the idiots and they’ll let us out.”
Kirishima nodded distantly as Bakugou eyed him warily. He sighed, running to the other side of the room to grab his phone off the table where he left it.
But the second Bakugou let go of his wrist, Kirishima was out the window.
Kirishima wasn’t afraid as he fell off the roof.
He’d never broken a bone until hero work, despite the many stupid things he’d done in his childhood and teen years. Falling off the roof was nothing. Being unbreakable had its perks, after all.
It also had its downsides, he decided, as he struggled to pull his almost fully submerged body out of the muck of the bay that he’d managed to tumble into.
All the rain had made the ground a bit too soft to land on standing up. Plus, the house, and the second story window from which he fell, were on a cliff, so that didn’t help make his landing more graceful.
As he tumbled down the dunes that surrounded the house, all Kirishima could think about was the blond he left behind.
Bakugou was going to kill him.
And who could blame him? Kirishima was an idiot.
He put his foot in his mouth and instead of dealing with it by talking things out, or even just coming up with a good excuse, he put himself in danger. Danger that Bakugou had specifically warned him about .
Also, he basically jumped out of a second story window to avoid kissing his best friend. Definitely a normal, heterosexual reaction to a friendly dare between two bros. Not at all indicative of Kirishima’s giant, stupid, very gay crush on his best friend.
And Bakugou was smart. He knew Kirishima better than anyone . And sure, maybe there was a small chance that Kirishima could get away with trying to blame his claustrophobia for his freakout. The rest of his friends might believe that.
But the chances were much slimmer he could fool Bakugou.
He shook his head, trying to keep it above the cloudy water as it rose with the rapidly falling rain. This wasn’t the time to think about the stupid things he did to get himself into this situation. He had to figure a way out of here.
The portion of the bay that Kirishima had found himself in wasn’t that deep. He was almost positive that the ground he was stuck in wasn’t usually a part of the bay at all. It probably got swallowed up during the second or third day of the storm.
Plus, Kirishima was very tall, so his head wasn’t under water just yet. That was definitely a positive.
The issue was his quirk. When he’d fallen, he hardened himself like usual to protect his bones from snapping in half during his less than graceful landing. But it also made him a (somehow more ) solid mass. The inertia from the fall made him land deeply wedged in the dirt, like a shovel in the sand at the beach.
Bakugou was going to kill him.
If the rising water didn’t manage it first.
He had to stay calm. Panicking wouldn’t do anything. He needed a game plan, a way out. He could do this.
He could pull himself out if he had something to grab onto, but there was nothing around in reaching distance, even with his massive wingspan. He could try to go under the cloudy water and dig his feet out of the mud, but there was a chance that could make things worse. Plus, he couldn’t see anything. Because, you know, it was dark, murky water.
He knew his friends would probably try to find their way over to him, but there was no telling how long that would take. He probably rolled pretty far from the house and it was the middle of the night in a rainstorm; he couldn’t guarantee that his friends could find him.
His friends would probably try to find their way over to him, but he was probably pretty far from the house by now. There was no telling how long it would take for them to find him.
This would be much easier if he hadn't spent the past 4 hours drinking with his friends.
A loud explosion, coupled with a stream of expletives, snapped Kirishima out of his train of thought.
"Oi! Kirishima!" Bakugou's voice came from somewhere in the distance.
"I'm over here!" Kirishima screamed as loud as he could over the rain, angling his head up as high as it would go, lifting his arms over his head to try to make himself visible through the storm.
"He's over this way, I think," Jirou's voice called over the hill, sounding much more sober than she had a few minutes before.
Kirishima nearly cried when he saw Bakugou propel his way over to where the redhead got wedged.
He landed on one of the tiny islands that were still above water in the storm.
"Kirishima! Where the fuck are you?" he screamed, his voice almost raw.
“Bakugou!” Kirishima called from the water, silently praying the blond's hearing aid didn't get screwed up from the explosions and the rain the way they sometimes did in battle.
An explosion went off, illuminating the area, before Bakugou's eyes met his. His face flooded with relief.
He thanked the gods for Mei Hatsume's endless improvements to the things she made.
Until Bakugou's gaze turned murderous.
"What the fuck was that, dumbass? I fucking told you not to do that shit and you did it anyway! You could've died!"
Kirishima debated whether or not it would be better to just let himself drown.
"Hey, idiots! Found him. He's in a fucking gully," Bakugou said into the watch on his wrist.
"You're gonna have to be a little more specific, man," Kaminari's voice chimed back.
Bakugou shot a huge explosion into the air.
"Yup. We got it," Sero replied.
"You're a fucking idiot," Bakugou said, propelling himself over the water closer to Kirishima.
"I know," Kirishima said, "But you're still gonna help me out, right?"
Bakugou sighed heavily, jutting his chin out.
A clamor of voices could be heard coming in their direction over the hill. Bakugou shot off another small explosion, just enough to let the group know they were heading in the right direction.
"Can't do shit 'til tape face gets here. I'll just get stuck in the mud, too, dumbass," he grumbled, leaning down closer to Kirishima's face to flick his forehead.
"Ow! What the hell, aren't I suffering enough?" Kirishima whined, rubbing the spot dramatically.
"Tch," Bakugou scoffed, "No, fucker, if anyone's suffering, it's me. I didn't ask to be out here in the rain. You're the one that jumped out the window. I'm the one that has to save your dumb ass."
Kirishima sighed, "Yeah, okay, I deserve that."
"Okay, we see you!" Mina's voice came from Bakugou's wrist, "At least, I hope it's you and not some weird bear or something. On our way down!"
The group made their way down the hill, the shadowy figures illuminated by a flash light powered by Kaminari's electricity.
"How stupid are you?!" Mina said as soon as she made it to the bottom, "Why the hell would you jump out a window?!"
"I told you I'm claustrophobic!" Kirishima shouted back as the others found their footing on the swampy ground around him.
"Yes. Clearly that was the best way to get out of being trapped," she said, gesturing at his current situation.
Oh.
"Okay, fair point," Kirishima said lamely.
"Okay, mi cielo. Let’s focus," Sero said, resting his hand on Mina's shoulder, "We'll pull him out and then we can talk about how stupid he is. He’s gotta live for us to berate him."
Mina crossed her arms across her chest, surely pouting slightly before huffing, "Fine."
Sero clapped his hands together, "Great! Okay, dude, you've gotta put your hands up for me. I'll send you tape and you can tie it to your wrists so we have a way to pull you out."
Kirishima eyed the man warily. "Is that gonna hold me?" Kirishima asked, his voice wavering slightly. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sero. It was just… He was gigantic. And very, very heavy. And very, very, very stuck.
"Yeah, 'course it is! I'll double it up just to be safe, but it's pulled, like, whole cars off the street, bro. I think it can handle Red Riot."
"And we'll be able to hoist you out, bro, I promise," Denki said, his smirk barely visible from the glow of his flashlight, "We're, like, super buff."
"Right," Jirou said flatly, "And if, for some reason that doesn't pan out, Momo is actually super buff and could do the heavy lifting.”
Denki scoffed, acting offended.
"Or I could just make something that could get you out," Momo said, her words still slightly slurred.
"Then let's stop fucking talking about it and do it, idiots," Bakugou snapped, "He'll be dead by the time you fucking make up your minds."
"Relax, Blasty," Mina sang with a sigh, "Your boyfriend will be free soon enough."
Bakugou's hands sparked, "He's not- He's gonna fucking drown, I don't have time to-" he huffed, running his hand through his hair, turning to face Denki and Sero, "Just /move/," he snapped.
"Ay, ay!" Denki said, giggling slightly as he saluted Bakugou.
"Fucking drunk morons," Bakugou grumbled, wiping his hand down his face.
Sero wrapped several layers of tape tightly around Kirishima's hands. Despite the water coming from multiple different directions and how slippery Kirishima’s skin felt, it stuck to his skin.
"Okay. All set up," Sero said after a moment, looping more tape around the makeshift handcuffs to tug on.
"Took you long enough," Bakugou grumbled, pushing Sero out of the way, grabbing the front of the makeshift rope, "Ponytail, you're at the back end. Everyone else, get in the middle. Soy Sauce, tape ponytail to the post sticking out so we don't get dragged in with this moron."
"So demanding," Denki grumbled. Bakugou snapped his head at the blond, giving him a look. He threw her hands up in surrender, "Fine, Mom, whatever you say."
"Wouldn't have to act like everyone's mom if you dumbasses would get your shit together," Bakugou snapped, handing the blond the tape, "Now grab the fucking rope and pull."
The group heaved and hoed, tugging in unison until eventually, the redhead was out of the muck and able to kick his legs to give them a bit more assistance.
When he was close enough to the bank, Bakugou dropped the rope, reaching out a hand to pull Kirishima out of the bay.
Kirishima couldn't help but recognize how warm it felt, how intimate, even in the chill of the rain with all of their friends watching, even with Bakugou's rage apparent on his face, that the blond was willing to offer him a hand when he needed one.
The same way Kirishima had all those years ago when Bakugou needed it.
That thought definitely made the redhead feel warm in spite of the chill of the storm.
Kirishima tried not to think about it too hard as the blond pulled him onto shore, pulling the redhead close.
Bakugou wrapped his arms around Kirishima for a brief moment, rubbing his arms hands up over the redhead's arms to warm them. He was breathing heavily from the exertion. It couldn't've been easy to lift the 300+lb, 6'7 tank of a man out of the water in the pouring rain.
Bakugou made it look easy.
Kirishima sighed, looking up at the blond, meeting his eyes for a brief moment.
Bakugou slowly removed his hand from one of Kirishima's arms, bringing one hand to the back of Kirishima's head…
And promptly slapping him. The hit landed with a hollow thwack .
"Ow! Dude," Kirishima whined, rubbing the spot that was now sore.
Bakugou scowled, his eyebrows drawing together as his face reddened.
"You fucking dumbass !" he growled, his voice a low, dark sound, "You could've died . Imagine if that's how the news had to report that shit. Imagine how fucking dumb that would be. "
"Oh, c'mon, Blasty," Jirou said, "At least wait until he's out of his tape handcuffs."
"No," Bakugou snapped, turning his head towards her, "He's stupid, and he'll suffer now."
"Alright," Mina said firmly, putting her hands up to separate the argument, "I want to beat sense into Kiri as much as the next guy, but we're all gonna suffer if we don't get inside and get dried off soon. I'm not coming home from a beach trip with pneumonia."
The others grumbled out their agreement.
Bakugou released the hold he had on Kirishima, standing and offering out his hand to the redhead silently, refusing to meet his eyes.
Kirishima's stomach turned. In all the confusion, he'd almost forgotten the tension from earlier.
He let Bakugou help him up, "Thanks man!" he said, cheerily.
Bakugou turned wordlessly and led the trek back up to the house.
The group followed behind him.
Mina whistled, nudging Kirishima, "Oof. He's really pissed at you, huh?"
"Yeah," Denki added, nodding, "He didn't even yell at you. I know he hates the rain, but this..."
Kirishima sighed, deflating, "Yeah."
"And not to pile on, but that tape is going to be a bitch to get off," Sero said, clapping a hand against Kiri's shoulder, "I didn't bring any solvent with me. Didn't think I'd need it. Good thing your quirk is hardening, huh?"
“Yeah, or else it would rip your skin off, bro!” Denki said, too cheerfully for Kirishima’s taste.
Kirishima sighed heavily.
Momo stepped forward, studying Kirishima's present state with a sigh of her own.
"I don't see a way to avoid bringing the bog in the house with you," she frowned, "Though, I suppose this is the consequence of our actions.
"At least he's already naked," Denki said.
"I'm not /totally/ naked," Kirishima argued, "I've got this super manly coat on. And my boxers."
"And I’m sorry, I don’t see why him being naked would be a good thing?" Jirou prodded.
Kaminari shrugged, "Less laundry to do."
Jirou snorted.
"The coat held up pretty well, Momo," Kirishima said, smiling at her as she curled around Jirou, "If you ever retire from hero work, maybe you should go into fashion design."
"Yeah! Baku-bro's parents can help with that," Kaminari agreed. Him and Mina began chattering excitedly about the potential future careers of their friends.
Kirishima wanted to appreciate the moment, to appreciate his friends being there to help him when he was an idiot. And he did. He knew he'd be fish food by now if it wasn't for his friends and their hero training. And he loved them, and loved hanging out with them, but…
He felt an ache pang in his chest.
"Kirishima," Momo said, laying a hand on his shoulder interrupting his thoughts. She stayed steady in her steps, despite the slight wobble to her walk that came with being slightly tipsy on a summer night.
"I wanted to apologize," she said, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
Kirishima's eyebrows shot up, "What? Why?"
"Well," she continued, wringing her hands together, "I knew how you felt about tight spaces ever since that raid we were in first year. I should've stopped them from locking you in a room when I had the chance."
She looked down at the ground in front of them, "In all honesty, I did assume it would be alright, since that room doesn't feel closed in. But still, I should've listened when you mentioned that you were uncomfortable."
Kirishima felt guilt in the pit of his stomach. He sighed, fighting against the urge to reach out to Momo with his bound hands, "Momo... we were playing a game. It's not your fault."
She sighed, "But I knew how you felt. About the tight spaces. And about..." she trailed off, gesturing her head to the front of the path, where Bakugou was already bounding into the house, shutting the door with a slam.
Kirishima felt his face heat, "Oh."
"I imagine that us pressuring you only made the room feel smaller," she continued, sighing again, bringing her hand to rest under her chin, "Bakugou seemed upset as well. I'll have to apologize to him, too."
Kirishima sighed, "No, I don't think that's your fault. That one's on me."
Momo looked up at Kirishima thoughtfully for a second before nodding, "I can only imagine what happened. I do hope you two work it out."
Kirishima nodded, "Me too."
By the time the squad got back to the house, Kirishima could hear the water running from the shower in the bathroom he and Bakugou's rooms were connected through.
Kirishima sighed, glad he wouldn't have to deal with anything just yet.
He felt... disgusting. Emotionally and physically.
"Sero," he called, "How am I gonna get this tape off?"
Sero shrugged, "I dunno. Go unbreakable and see what happens."
Mina snorted, "That's your big plan?"
Sero shrugged, "It's the best I can do, unless Momo feels up to making a machete or some solvent to get it off. Plus, Kiri gets all spiky when he does that anyway, right? It'll work."
"It'll definitely work," Denki called from the spot on the floor he collapsed into when they walked in the house.
"Thanks for weighing in," Kirishima deadpanned. He hummed lightly, frowning, "I guess I could do it, but the super manly trench coat might suffer."
Momo shrugged, "It'll be fine. We can buy a new one."
"There she is, Miss 'I don't want to hurt the economy,'" Mina sang, pinching Momo's cheek affectionately before turning to Kirishima, "Just do it. You're getting bog all over the house and you KNOW Bakugou's gonna be pissed"
Kirishima sighed, reluctantly agreeing. The less he could do to piss off Bakugou, the better. He turned his body unbreakable, the hardening rippling through his body and ripping through both the tape and the coat.
With some help, he removed the remnants of the tape and the trench coat with minimal spillage of swamp goop spilling onto the floor.
Momo smiled sadly at him as he stood there in his boxers, taking the trench coat between two fingers, "I will... take this to the garbage."
Eijirou smiled apologetically, "Thanks, Momo! And sorry again about the mess."
"Oh, don't worry about that! I'm just glad you're safe," she said gently, smiling back at him.
"Yeah, dude, that was really wild. I mean, you jumped off a roof. What even happened? Did you guys end up..." Denki began, trailing off and leaning forward, raising his eyebrows.
"Nothing happened!" Kirishima insisted, feeling his face heat as he bit his lower lip.
Mina sighed, "Oh, god. Kiri, sweetie," she cooed, "If you were having that hard of a time, we would've let you out. We thought it was all just a part of the game."
"Yeah, man," Sero continued, "We didn't /mean/ to make you freak out. Sorry, bro."
To be fair, that was one hell of a way to end the game," Jirou said from her spot beside Denki, smiling.
Kirishima smiled back, "I knew you guys would get it. I just... I couldn't handle it. And I just kept messing things up."
Mina and Sero shared a look, "What do you mean, sweetie?" Mina prodded.
"I just..." Kirishima said, wiping his hands over his face, "I think I screwed up."
Mina looked at him, brows furrowing, "Oh, honey. Do you wanna talk about it?"
Kirishima sighed. He did want to talk about it. But he was on the wrong side of being drunk, his body was aching and he was covered in mud.
"I think I should get some sleep first," Kirishima decided, rubbing his hand over his face again, "And a shower."
"That's a great plan, you're covered in goop, my dude," Kaminari said from where his head lay on Mina's lap, popping the p on goop for emphasis.
Jirou snorted at that as Sero shook his head, "Yeah, I think it's bed time. We have, like, 5 minutes before Kami passes out where he's sitting for the next 10 hours despite the fact he’s soaking wet and covered in mud," he said, shaking his head.
Mina sighed wistfully, smiling, "It's like 3rd year all over again."
"So, what, because Shinsou isn’t here, I'm going to wake up sandwiched between you and Kaminari while you both hang off me like koalas?" Sero asked, smirking.
"You should be so lucky," Kaminari argued weakly through a yawn as Mina laughed, helping him up off her lap.
She handed Denki off to Sero, the two teetering up the staircase to their rooms on the floor above.
Mina walked over to Kirishima, reaching her hands up to cup his cheeks in both hands, patting them affectionately. Her eyes were glazed over slightly, her cheeks rosier than normal as she said gently, "Go talk to him. I promise, whatever it is, it's not as bad as you think."
Kirishima felt much better after a hot shower.
Cleaning the shower after? That was a bitch. But, he reminded himself, it was his own fault.
If he wasn’t such a coward, none of this would’ve been an issue.
But he was, and he’d have to confront his best friend at some point.
He sighed, brushing his wet hair back from his face and looking down at his phone. It was nearing 3AM by now. He had no doubt that Bakugou had fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow. He wasn’t used to staying up past 9, let alone this ungodly hour.
It was probably better to wait until morning to talk about it, anyway. They’d both feel much better after some sleep, he reasoned.
His body didn’t seem to agree. The anxiety that he felt hummed annoyingly through his body, making it impossible to sit still. He tossed and turned, trying his best to feel somewhat comfortable in this strange bed in the strange home, but everything felt off .
He thought about blaming it on the anxiety attack he’d had earlier, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it.
Bakugou was mad at him.
It’s not like this was the first time. They’d been friends for 8 years by now, of course they’d had their fair share of disagreements. Bakugou wouldn’t want to go out with their friends, or Kirishima would be a little too reckless during a mission, or Bakugou would do something stupidly self sacrificing in the field and would get himself in trouble. But this one felt different.
Kirishima couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
He groaned, burying his face in the pillow dampened by his hair.
A little part of him wanted to think back to what happened, to dissect the reason Bakugou reacted like he did. But he knew if he thought too much about it, he’d get himself hurt.
Bakugou didn’t want to kiss him. He would’ve kissed anyone. It was a game, and at the end of the day, Bakugou hated losing.
So when Kirishima chickened out, Bakugou saw him for what he was: a coward.
Kirishima sighed again, rubbing his hands over his face. His brain was spinning out of control, and sitting here wasn’t helping.
Momo, being herself, probably had some kind of tea or something to help him sleep in the kitchen.
He got up from his bed reluctantly, his muscles aching and his head still slightly fuzzy from the alcohol he’d had earlier in the evening.
A cup of tea would do him some good.
Deku yawned pointedly into the phone, his voice heavy with sleep, “Wait… he really jumped off the roof?”
Bakugou groaned into his hand, trying to suppress his rage and training his voice into a harsh whisper. “Why the fuck else would I’ve said it, you idiot?”
Deku hissed through his teeth, “Yikes.”
“Fuck you.”
“Kacchan, you woke me up at 4am,” Midoriya grumbled as he yawned again, “If you wanted me to lie to you, you should’ve called me at a reasonable time.”
Bakugou growled.
“Okay, okay! Jeez. Well, did you talk about it?” Midoriya asked pointedly.
Katsuki huffed. “If you’re just gonna say stupid shit, I’m hanging up and calling Round Face,” Bakugou grumbled back.
“Oh, please, she just worked a double. There’s no way she’s waking up before noon,” Deku snorted, “Also, I don’t think it’s such a stupid idea. Did he say anything before he jumped off the roof?”
He did. And Bakugou hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
“Not like this,” Kirishima had said.
What the fuck did that even mean, “not like this.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to remember if the dumbass said anything?” Bakugou snapped instead.
“Kacchan,” Midoriya sighed, groaning slightly.
“You know what you fucking nerd—“
“Bakugou?” a voice interrupted behind him.
Shit.
Bakugou turned around to see the one person he didn’t want to talk to at the moment, standing across from him in the dimly lit corridor that led to the kitchen.
It didn’t help that he looked so fucking good. How the hell did he look so good when all he did was /shower/, for fucks sake?
His pajama pants were slung low on his hips, and his still damp hair was pushed back away from his face in a way that made him look softer than usual.
Maybe it was just the light.
“Kacchan?” Deku’s voice chimed from the phone still pressed to his ear, “Is that Kirish-“
He suddenly felt like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Fuck off,” Bakugou snapped quickly into the phone before hanging it up.
Kirishima grabbed the back of his neck, rubbing it and looking down at his feet, “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I didn’t even know you were up here, I figured you were already asleep, ‘cause I know you hate staying up late-”
“Oi,” Bakugou interrupted, holding up his hand, “‘s fine, Shitty Hair. It was just Deku.”
Kirishima’s eyebrows knitted together, “Oh. Was it something important?”
Bakugou shrugged, averting his gaze, praying to any gods that might be listening that his blush couldn’t be seen in the dim lighting of the kitchen, “Just agency shit.”
Kirishima hummed, still not moving from his spot in the doorway.
The two stared at each other for a moment, Kirishima studying him with unreadable eyes. Bakugou could feel the tension hanging heavily in the air between them, the unspoken words even heavier on his tongue.
“What are you doing up, anyway, Red?” Bakugou managed to get out, not breaking eye contact.
Kirishima sighed, leaning against the doorframe, “I couldn’t sleep. I figured some tea or something could help.”
Bakugou nodded curtly, his gaze lingering a bit too long before turning away to walk back over towards the kitchen counter.
“I think Ponytail keeps that shit in here,” Bakugou muttered, opening the wooden door gently.
“Thanks, man,” Kirishima said from behind him, the doorframe creaking as the redhead stood to his full height, taking a few steps towards Bakugou.
Bakugou grunted in response, grabbing the box of chamomile tea from the cupboard and putting it on the counter beside him.
He moved to reach for a mug from the cabinet beside him, but Kirishima beat him to it, opening the cabinet door from behind the blond.
Kirishima was standing close enough that Bakugou could feel the heat radiating off of his body.
Bakugou turned around, his face meeting Kirishima’s chest as the redhead peered down at him.
Red eyes met his own, staring at him so intently with an unreadable expression behind them.
It could’ve been a minute or an hour before Kirishima cleared his throat, breaking eye contact and stepping back. “Sorry,” he whispered. Bakugou could’ve sworn that his cheeks turned slightly pink.
“‘s fine,” Bakugou mumbled, reaching for the kettle on the counter to fill it with water.
The two moved around each other in silence for a moment, with Bakugou turning the kettle on to boil and Kirishima setting up two mugs for tea, one with honey, one without.
There was a familiar domesticity to it all. Their sleepless nights back at UA often lead to the two boys dancing around each other in a dark kitchen at odd hours of the night, pouring tea and keeping one another company when the nightmares inhibited their rest.
All these years later, and it still almost felt the same.
But they weren’t the same boys they were back then.
They’d survived wars and battles together since then. They’d saved lives and suffered and grown together since then.
But still, all this time later, here they were. Bakugou was still dancing around Kirishima, dancing around saying what he really meant.
“‘m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice almost startling himself as he rested his hands flat on the counter in front of him, staring down at the granite, “For today. All of it.”
Bakugou watched out of his peripheral vision as Kirishima whipped around suddenly, nearly dropping the mug he was holding. “What? Dude, why are /you/ sorry?”
Bakugou’s head snapped up fast enough he heard his neck crack, “The hell do you mean why am I sorry? I freaked you out bad enough that you jumped out a fucking window to get away from me.”
Kirishima flinched slightly at his words or the memory, rubbing the back of his neck again, “Oh. That.”
Bakugou gaped at him, “Yeah. That . Dumbass.”
“Bro, that was…” Kirishima began, trailing off and pausing in thought for a second before shaking his head, “That was not your fault. At all.”
Bakugou quirked an eyebrow at his friend, glaring at him.
“Seriously. You, uh… You know how I get about being stuck in one place,” Kirishima finished, rubbing his neck again and smiling a clearly forced smile at the blond.
Bakugou studied his best friend for a moment. “Bullshit,” he spat out in a harsh whisper.
“No, honest! And besides, it was just a dumb dare. You were right. I should’ve just got it over with,” he said, chuckling lightly in a way that made Bakugou think what he said wasn’t very funny.
Bakugou stared up at his friend, his eyebrows knitting together, his eyes narrowing.
“It wasn’t very manly of me to make you worry like that, bro. I’m sorry,” Kirishima said after a moment, still smiling.
“Are you stupid or something?” Bakugou asked, still staring up at his friend, pressing a finger into his chest.
“What? Why?” he asked, almost too quickly as his face flushed adorably again.
“Because, dumbass,” Bakugou snapped, crossing his arms across his chest, “You’re not unmanly because you’re claustrophobic, moron. And besides, me yelling at you probably didn’t help.”
Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck again, “Well, that wasn’t on purpose! I know how you get about winning.”
Bakugou stared up at his friend incredulously. He seriously thought it was about the game? This idiot seriously thought he just freaked out because of the game.
The two stood there staring at each other for another beat, Kirishima’s eyes searching for something on Bakugou’s face that the blond couldn’t decipher.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment, breaking eye contact with his friend, “The game.”
The kettle beeped, interrupting whatever weird energy was flowing between the two of them tonight. Bakugou stepped back, his head low, walking over to grab it to pour the boiling water into the mugs.
Bakugou handed the now steaming mug to his best friend, who took it, smiling warmly at him.
He leaned back on the counter, taking a sip of the still scalding tea, “Well. ‘s the last time I let Dunce Face and Pinky run game night.”
Kirishima snorted, “Yeah, you gonna run things yourself from now on?” he asked, elbowing his friend lightly as he set his tea on the counter.
Bakugou shrugged, “Those idiots can’t do shit themselves. The only good thing that came out of tonight was that coat Ponytail made.”
Kirishima sighed heavily, placing a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder dramatically, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but… the trench coat was a casualty to me trying to get the tape off.”
“What the fuck?” Bakugou snapped, pushing Kirishima’s hand off of his shoulder as the redhead laughed.
“I’m sorry! If it’s any consolation, you can say your final goodbyes to it over in the trash can,” Kirishima said gently, laughing as quietly as he could.
“Damnit. And you know she’s not gonna make you another one because of the economy and shit,” Bakugou sighed.
“Sometimes, I forget that you care about this stuff,” Kirishima smirked.
“It’s a good thing I do, or you’d be wearing fucking crocs on red carpets and shit.”
“Hey, that was one time!” Kirishima argued, pouting.
“That’s too many times,” Bakugou retorted, still smirking, finishing off his cup of tea. He took the bag out, dropping it in the trash, taking a moment to sigh at the destroyed fabric in the can, before rinsing his mug out and putting it in the dishwasher.
“Bakugou?” Kirishima asked, causing the blond to turn to face him. “Are we still good?”
Bakugou snorted, “Yes, dumbass. You murdering the coat doesn’t make us not good.”
Kirishima smiled at him gently, “Good. It was a pretty good coat, though. It made me feel really manly.”
“Yeah, well,” Bakugou shifted slightly, rolling his eyes, “You’re man enough without it. Idiot.”
Kirishima blushed again, smiling down at the blond.
The two stared at each other another second before Bakugou sighed, “I’m fucking tired. ‘m going to bed. Goodnight.”
“Yeah,” Kirishima said, his eyes flickering down to Bakugou’s lips, “Good night.”
Bakugou swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a shaky breath. He thought, maybe, just /maybe/, for a second there, Kirishima might…
Then, the redhead broke his gaze.
Bakugou cleared his throat again, turning around to go back to his room.
This was good. This was what he wanted, right? The two of them talked things out. Things were good again. They were okay.
And besides. It was late. Whatever Bakugou thought was going to happen—
Bakugou felt a firm grip on his wrist, tugging him backwards, spinning him around to face crimson eyes.
And before he could even realize what was happening, Kirishima’s lips were on his.
Despite how long it took to get here, there was nothing tentative about this kiss. Kirishima wrapped strong arms around Bakugou’s waist, pressing their bodies impossibly closer together as Bakugou looped his arms around Kirishima’s neck.
His lips are chapped and their teeth clink for a moment at first, but Kirishima was so strong, so steadfast and thoughtful and considerate. And Bakugou thought it was like when they fought together, like how Kirishima could predict his moves and his needs without him saying a word about it.
He nipped at Bakugou’s bottom lip, sharp teeth pressing against his skin and he let out an honest to goodness moan, one that he might’ve been embarrassed about if he had the wherewithal to think about anything other than /this moment,/ his best friends body against his own, the cool granite of the countertop pressing against his back as Kirishima kissed him deeper, harder, more .
He was lost in it. All he could see, all he could feel, all he could think about was Kirishima .
When he finally had to come up for air, Kirishima rested his forehead against Bakugou’s, their breath mixing as they panted heavily. Kirishima leaned forward and kissed him once, twice more, pulling back a moment after.
“Earlier… I meant something like that,” he whispered, his arms still wrapped around Bakugou’s waist detangling from his body as he stepped back, grabbed his cup of tea, and walked out the kitchen door.
And all Bakugou could do was stand there, dumbfounded, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.