Chapter Text
Kirishima flinched as someone’s weight knocked against his back, spilling their drink down the neck of his shirt.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I’m such a clutz!” a blonde woman who reeked of thick perfume slurred with a thick New York accent.
“You’re alright. Are you okay?” Kirishima asked with a kind smile, reaching out an arm to stabilise her as she staggered backwards. He tried not to cringe as the alcohol dripped uncomfortably down his clothes.
She peered at the back of his shirt, sodden with drink, and her eyes widening, “Oh, look at your shirt! God, I always do this. Let me get you some napkins, one second.” She tutted, rushing to some corner of Kirishima and Bakugo's apartment and Kirishima shifted uncomfortably in the spot unsure what to do with himself while waiting for her return.
He sighed and looked down at his shirt soaked with alcohol. By the smell of it, neat tequila.
Jesus.
In the background, he heard a crowd of roaring laughter and looked up to see Bakugo, who smiled triumphantly above a board game, boasting his win to the men around him. Especially, Kirishima noted, a particularly attractive-looking woman who stared at Bakugo’s lips as he talked, lust in her eyes and a smirk on her face.
Kirishima scoffed, but he couldn’t quite figure out why this bothered him. The feeling curled tight in his gut, and he felt his jaw tense. The girl let out a high-pitched giggle at Bakugo’s laugh, and she leaned into him, placing a hand on his thigh. Bakugo didn’t so much as look at her as he shook her hand off roughly and continued talking as if nothing happened. Kirishima snorted, hiding his grin behind a napkin.
Bakugo’s operation was going well, at least, Kirishima thought.
It had been Monday when their agency’s desperately sleep-deprived director, Zashitasu, called them in for an apparently 'vital operation' after gathering word of a new drug- smuggling cartel they believe had connections to the resurgence of Trigger.
Trigger, Kirishima knew, was an infamous drug that magnified a quirk’s powers and naturally became highly sought by villains and criminal gangs. It was proving to be a huge problem for Hero industries.
Just a few weeks ago, Bakugo had to be taken to the hospital after a particularly rough conflict with a gang of triggered-up villains. Despite the villains being “fucking amateurs”, as Bakugo so politely called them, their supercharged quirks proved to be difficult.
Thankfully, he didn’t sustain any serious injuries, just a few nasty gashes on his arm from one of the villains’ quirks. Bakugo had flat-out refused to go to the hospital until Kirishima all but dragged him there. “Bakugo Katsuki, I swear to God one day you’ll die of infection out of your own negligence, and I’ll have to kill you myself!” He had reprimanded, touching a soft finger to his wounds, which cause Bakugo to grumble about how he needs to stop worrying about him, but eventually obliged.
Similar to how the Meta Liberation Army rise of power depended on heroes with powerful connections and influence, Zashitasu believed this cartel was using Pro-Hero’s influence to further the spread of the drug.
Because Bakugo and Kirishima are high in rankings and have a significant amount of influence, Zashitasu believed it would be worthwhile for them to go ‘undercover’ in a way. Still as their Pro-Hero selves their task was to establish trade with the high society members the agency had flagged to be involved.
“That’s so fucking stupid!” Bakugo had said predictably. “What’s the point of us doing it when surely there are heroes that want to go and are more suited? We’ve got better things to do than sit around all day with a bunch of people who may or may not be useful to us. Hell, we could just bring them all in, interrogate them, and be done with it, simple as that!”
Zashatsu looked like he would continue speaking when Kirishima interrupted. “With all due respect, sir, Bakugo has a point. I understand the need for heroes to play as double agents, but why us specifically?”
It was not uncommon for Kirishima and Bakugo to be paired on missions. Hell, everyone knew they worked well together – but this operation was unusual in that neither of their quirks was particularly suited to it.
As well as that, neither of them had much particular experience with undercover work or double-crossing. It had been something at the back of Kirishima’s mind since their role was first explained, and it was a relief for Bakugo to finally voice their concerns. He liked that about them. It wasn’t like Kirishima couldn’t speak up when he wanted to, but he felt safe and assured around Bakugo. He knew he had his back.
Zashitasu let out a long exhale before continuing, clearly done with the conversation.
“You obviously work well together. You’re both smart, adaptable and quick-witted...This is an intricate business full of untrusting people. I need heroes who can soften people’s defences. Kirishima, you’re a natural charmer. You are charismatic and influential, and the public loves you. They’ll be looking for that kind of influence, but above that, you put people at ease."
Bakugo laughed at Kirishima when he pulled a face, rubbing his neck shyly.
"Bakugo is influential in his own way. He presents enough vindication and ambition it seems almost natural he would end up in this sort of business. No offence." he added as Bakugo scowled. “You two could get more than any other agents that could have been assigned.”
Kirishima nodded in understanding, and Zashitasu paused to get a glass of water. When Bakugo caught his eyes, Kirishima shot him a bright smile. Bakugo’s eyes flashed down to his mouth momentarily before he grimaced and turned away.
Wierd
But Kirishima could process this, Zashitasu started again.
“Obviously, most convenient is your living arrangements”, Zashitasu said, sounding desperately bored with the conversation. “It is public knowledge that the two of you share an apartment after you indulged that information to the media. This will allow for a more intimate social gathering with all the players we’ve flagged to be involved without creating suspicion as to why both of you are there. Do you understand?”
Kirishima nodded, and Bakugo leant forward.
“So what you’re saying is that you want to invite a bunch of potential criminals into our apartment?”
Zashitasu chuckled. “We will arrange a fake apartment for you. They will not have access to your real address, so as long as you are both in the fake-out, we should not run into any issues. You can desert the apartment we have arranged for you after the mission is complete.”
At the implication that they would have to move into a new apartment for the duration of the operation, there was much grumbling from Bakugo, but after a bit more persuading from Kirishima’s end, Bakugo had eventually sighed and signed the appropriate documentation. < /p>
Kirishima heard the clunking of high heels return and looked back to see the woman walk back with napkins bunched up under her delicately painted nails.
“Don’t worry, I can do it myself-” he started to say before the women began work attempting to blot at the spots of alcohol, but really, she was getting nowhere in her drunkenness.
Plus, he noted, she was being especially handsy- her hands pressed against his chest and her breath against his cheek. He felt heat creep up his neck and grimaced uncomfortably. Had Denki been standing here with him, he would have made some crude joke about it.
Up close, Kirishima was able to get a good look at her, and he realised she was quite attractive (generally speaking). Her makeup made her look gentle and angelic – not too over the top, but enough to highlight her best features. Mascara framed her soft blue eyes and highlighter and faux freckles had been applied in a way that made her appear something akin to a deer. When she wrapped her arm around him to dab at the back of his collar, he swallowed hard.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” he said again, shuffling back with an uncomfortable smile and straightening out his shirt.
The girl finally looked up at him properly for the first time, a dumb grin on her face, about to discuss pleasantries, presumably before noticing who he was.
“Oh, you’re the host! Red-crimson right? Lovely party this is! Convenient timing too...” but before he could correct her that, no, his hero name was not Red-crimson, he was thrown into a conversation about her life.
She went on to discuss why she was in Musutafu (she was a head reporter for an international media company on political affairs) before making a few bold advances, which Kirishima laughed off.
As she continued speaking, Kirishima continued to nod along politely despite zoning out to listen to the sounds of drunk camaraderie between the group Bakugo had wrapped around his finger.
Kirishima couldn’t help his eyes soften fondly as he watched Bakugo work. Any other day, he would be out the door, shouting curses at half the people he came across.
But Bakugo knew what this mission meant. Kirishima couldn’t help but feel a thrill every time he saw Bakugo’s work, both in the ruthlessness of hero work and the delicacies of diplomacy.
He was good at almost everything he put his mind to and, so it seems, he could be charmingly charismatic and patient when he needed to be. If there was anything stronger than Bakugo’s short-tempered and unsocial personality, it was his scorching ambition.
His attention was abruptly brought back to the woman as he realised she was now tracing a finger slowly across his shirt collar, her other hand pressed against his bicep. In alarm, he looked up to where Bakugo was sitting, searching for guidance, only to find him already assessing this situation. His brows furrowed, and his mouth was drawn in a tight line as hewatched the girl. They caught eyes, and Bakugo lifted his eyebrows in a question. You need me to get rid of Ms Knock-Off-Bambi? Kirishima shook his head.
Kirishima struggled to conjure up a vague, diplomatic way to let her down when he heard another roar of laughter and bottles clinking. To his not-so-delightful surprise, not only were there now drunk people in his apartment, making out on his furniture, it appeared that they were now making a game of it.
A chant of “spin-the-bottle” began between the most boisterous of the party. Other people around the apartment broke off from their conversations to join the game, flocking to the centre of the attention like moths to a flame.
“C’mon, where’s the other host? Red Riot, you should join!” one of the men shouted, which he identified to be a politician. A cabinet minister around his 40s - one of the older people attending the party.
Perched upon his lap was a girl who looked around her early 20s. He was drunk if his slurring voice and the way he was leaning into the couch for support were any indications.
Kirishima declined the invitations when more people called, but before he knew it, he was being pulled along by the blonde woman. He caught Bakugo’s eye as he sat down and shot him a look, but Bakugo only winked and shot him a shit-eating grin before standing to leave.
“All right, you lot have fun.” he began to say when a cry of noises began in protest.
“No, no, you can’t leave now!” cried one of the women who had been cooing over him.
“After your resounding victory, surely you’d want to best us once and for all.” provoked one of the players next to him, and the group shouted similar messages of agreement.
“And how are you supposed to win spin-the-bottle?” Bakugo asked with a condescending laugh.
“Get lucky.” the politician jeered. “C’mon, have fun!”
Bakugo shook his head with a light smile until he heard a guttural, low voice speak out.
“Unless you’re not up to it. Shame, I thought you were less of a coward, Dynamite.”
Bakugo paused hesitantly, turning to the source of the voice. Cosmo, the stout man belonging to the voice, was the key player in this entire operation. Zashitasu had mentioned that they had to be in his favour if they wanted to make the trade.
Kirishima locked his eyes with Bakugo and nodded slightly. Bakugo sighed and sat down in defeat.
“Ah, good man,” said Cosmo with a low, rumbling laugh and slapped Bakugo on the back as he settled beside him.
The middle-aged cabinet minister was the first to spin. Red-faced with drunkenness, he stumbled over to the poor woman it landed on, in this case, a young actress around her 20s who looked like she’d rather not. Long story short, he returned to the group with a stark red handprint across his face, and the girl huffed indignantly and downed a drink before spinning again.
The entire game was charged with an unfathomable pretence of energy and excitement. He looked up again at the sounds of cheering to see the girl now kissing a man around her same age. They pressed against one another, open-mouthed and heavy.
Kirishima grimaced and thanked the heavens they were pulled apart before it could get too out of control.
This was not what he signed up for.
Anxiety crawled up his veins and through his airways, constricting and making his chest feel tight. He hated the idea of having to kiss a stranger while stared at and judged by those around him. Kirishima swallowed hard around a dry lump in his throat and wrung his shaky hands, cursing his inability to calm down.
He looked up at the sound of cheering to see Bakugo slightly ashen, a frustrated grimace painted across his face. Much to the glee of the group around him, it appeared it was Bakugo’s turn to spin the bottle.
Bakugo fiddled unsurely but caught Kirishima’s eye. In that second, something unsaid passed between them. Bakugo, sensing Kirishima’s anxiety, sent a small reassuring smile. Though you could hardly call it a smile, more like a twitch in the corner of his lips, but his eyes softened with a hidden meaning meant only for them. Kirishima knew Bakugo’s looks were off by heart, and only a few eluded him.
He smiled at Bakugo’s effort, and a piece of that tightness washed away.
Bakugo sniffed and focused back on the bottle. He shuffled around, played with his hair - Basically did anything he could to give himself a few more moments before he committed. Finally, with a deep sigh, Bakugo swallowed hard and spun.