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The absence of warmth woke Kirishima up. Well, that and the lack of limbs poking and prodding at his sides. Propping himself up on his elbow, tired eyes peered blearily at his phone. 2:45 AM and somehow he was the only one who occupied his room.
“Bakugou?” Kirishima groggily called out, squinting his eyes and attempting to make out anything in the darkness. Where the hell did he go?
He could feel a sense of dread begin to pool in his stomach, his heartbeat rising as he began to quickly throw the covers off his tired legs.
It wasn’t like Bakugou to suddenly disappear into the night and Kirishima couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. Too many bleak scenarios had been faced to allow Kirishima not to jump to conclusions. Bakugou had escaped his grasp once before and he swore to himself he’d never let it happen again. He didn’t want to feel like he did after the other boy was stolen from him that night without his knowing—completely and utterly useless. Kirishima could imagine the scowl that would deepen across Bakugou’s face every time he tried to blame himself, despite the irony of the explosive boys’ feelings. There were too many ‘what ifs’ out there for Kirishima to focus on, just focus on what can actually be done, the blond would tell him. Kirishima left out the ‘get your head out of your ass’ part when trying to cheer himself up. Despite the anger that flowed through the other boy's veins, Kirishima knew that he meant well and just simply couldn’t fathom how someone could hold a different mindset than him.
Absolutely stubborn.
He scanned the dark room once more before pushing himself off the bed. His bare feet hit the cold floor; and the sudden chill crawled along his spine, waking him from his sudden delirium. Kirishima took a deep breath, attempting to calm his shaking hands and rapid breathing before he could begin to think logically again.
The school was under heavy security, teachers too on edge to let the students out of their sight any longer. There was no possibility that someone could have gotten the blond without someone noticing. All this meant was Bakugou left on his own two feet and there was only one way for him to leave. With this thought and a now level head, the red-headed boy pushed open his door and began his search for the warmth that escaped his bed.
Kirishima crouched down and peered around the corner of the hallway, being careful to keep quiet. The boy wasn’t the most graceful on his feet and the last thing he needed was to cause anyone in the dorm to stir. Aizawa would happily hand him a three-day house arrest and Kirishima would be damned if he fell even more behind in his studies because of it.
The clanking of metal hitting a glass bowl guided him to the kitchen and to the boy he had been searching for. Bakugou stood over a bowl of batter, fluorescent lights dancing along his icy blonde locks. A black tank top and sweatpants adorned his body along with fuzzy gray slippers, shielding his feet from the cold tiles. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting anyone to find him in the kitchen this late at night. Watching the other boy angrily whisk the mixture, the cold chill that ran up his spine reminded Kirishima of his lack of footwear. If Bakugou caught him without shoes, having to remind the boy too many times of ‘how fucking disgusting and repulsive’ it was, Kirishima wouldn’t live to see the morning light. His attempt to make a break back to his room was quickly made futile when his shoulder made contact with the wall. Kirishima was swiftly knocked off his feet, landing with a hard thunk. Bakugou, finally unfocused on his own affairs, shot his head up.
“Who the fuck is there?” Bakugou snarled, feeling heat making its way to his hands. He wasn’t someone you could —or truly wanted to—sneak up on.
“It’s, it’s just me!” Kirishima called sheepishly, pushing himself off the floor. He slowly peeked around the corner, loose red hair giving him away if his voice hadn’t the moment before. The sheepish boy walked over to Bakugou with his head down, refusing to meet the other boy’s gaze.
Those piercing red eyes were always out to get him. Eyes that stuck not daggers but arrows into his heart, Kirishima always finding his breath caught in his throat and heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t stay focused if he knew they were on him, watching his every move. Many people only saw the anger behind them, scarlet filling their gaze and clouding their minds, but Kirishima knew better. Those were the eyes he looked to when the world tried to prove he wasn’t good enough. Negative thoughts always made laps in his head, unrelenting and unmoving. Yet, one look was all it took. When that scarlet filled his gaze, waves of calm rushed over him, freeing Kirishima of his hardships. If only for a moment.
Yet, even knowing this, Kirishima was too flustered to meet his gaze, instead watching as his toes wiggled freely on the cold kitchen tiles. He felt a finger connect with his chin, pulling his face upwards.
Scarlet.
“What are you doing awake, dumbass?” Bakugou’s eyes stared into his, scanning his quickly reddening skin. It wouldn’t be long before the distinction between his hair and his face would be gone. He shook his head free of the other boy’s grasp, attempting to save himself from anymore embarrassment.
“The bed was cold,” Kirishima grumbled, waddling to stand in front of the bowl that sat on the counter. The smell of goopy batter already made its way to his nose, filling his senses with sweet nothings as his mouth started to water. Kirishima began to perk up, a smile playing on his lips as he tried to reach for the whisk. “What are you making?”
“None of your business,” the blond grumbled, smacking Kirishima’s hand away, knowing full well he couldn’t recount the last time he washed them. Kirishima’s bottom lip jutted out as he looked up at Bakugou, repressing his sharp smirk and knowing that one face was all he needed to win him over.
Bakugou Katsuki was fucking soft for Kirishima Eijirou. But, anyone who spoke of it was to be sentenced to a fast and explosive death.
A grunt and a whisk shoved in his face was all Kirishima needed, swiftly attempting to shove the entire utensil in his mouth, much to the blond’s dismay.
Kirishima missed nights like these, even when his exhausted eyes and heavy feet caught up to him in the morning. Even before those scarlet eyes were the ones who lulled him to sleep and soothed his worries without question, he and Bakugou always found themselves downstairs together. The smell of anything from Dango to Nikujaga were easy to be found wafting through the dorm at 2AM any given night during their first year at UA. It was almost an unspoken tradition that the two boys found themselves creating, spending their nights together. Bakugou would be making something behind the counter while Kirishima sat atop it, watching the other boy with adoration.
It was that same position Kirishima found himself once again, sitting on top of the marble slab, legs swinging—recalling their youth. Haphazardly licking the now clean whisk, Kirishima grinned as Bakugou turned around, flour littering his once black clothes and leaving pale white marks across his cheeks.
“Ya know,” Kirishima began, setting the whisk down, “I could just stare at you forever.”
Bakugou stopped, hand withdrawing from the bowl of red bean paste that sat next to Kirishima. Red heat quickly flushed across the boy’s cheeks, rivaling the color Kirishima turned a few minutes prior.
“You can’t just be saying shit like that, you creep,” Bakugou stammered, reaching once again and snatching the bowl off the counter. A hand wrapped around the flustered boy’s wrist before he was able to make it out of the other’s grasp, pulled to face a sharp and endearing grin. Kirishima pulled Bakugou between his legs, hands finding themselves on the blond’s cheeks, swiftly planting a kiss on his lips. Tense shoulders quickly melted by Kirishima’s soft touch, Bakugou leaning further into the kiss, dropping the bowl on the counter and letting his hands wrap around Kirshima’s waist.
Kirishima was the first to pull away, fighting off a smile as he searched for the air to fill his lungs once more. Red met red and Kirishima could swear the world was spinning.
“Are you going to stop me?” Kirishima was full on smirking now, watching the line deepen between Bakugou’s eyebrows. The boy sat atop the counter playfully ruffled the blond’s hair, ignoring the swearing coming from under Bakugo’s breath. Before the kitchen could fill with smoke, Kirishima grabbed Bakugo’s face once more, wiping the flour off his cheek and planting a kiss on the now tanned skin. Bakugo's face softened as he closed his eyes, completely surrendering to the kiss. Kirishima pulled away watching as Bakugo opened one eye, still blushing slightly, and murmured.
"Nope."
Kirishima wonders why they stopped this tradition because he could most certainly get used to this once more. Exhausted eyes and heavy feet were always worth the trouble and pain in the morning if this was his reward.