Work Text:
Bakugo reached for the backpack from the bottom of his closet, placing it on the bed. The sheets were still crumpled to one side. He made a note to himself that he would make the bed before he left. He pulled out the top drawer of his dresser, then the second, then the third; each time gathering the necessities for a few days away from home. Underwear, socks, a few black t-shirts, and black pants, one pair of khakis, and that one sweater his mom liked him to wear for family photos.
He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes, still exhausted from the lack of sleep. He would have much rather been asleep early enough to have a full eight hours, but the jackass who decided three days before Christmas was the best time to derail a train full of civilians thought otherwise. By the time Bakugo had captured the villain, finished the paperwork, and said goodbye to a still revved up Mirko, it was nearly midnight. And he was up at 6am this morning to catch the train on time.
He gathered the toiletries together, washing his face and brushing his teeth as he packed everything away. He ran his hand through his hair, contemplating for a moment trying to make it look less like he just woke up, or that he was struck by Denki’s electrocution; random strands of hair were jutting out in all directions. He eyed the jar of hair gel, only used once when he first bought it for a charity event gala he had actually cared about attending. Now it just sat collecting dust. Glancing at himself in the mirror, seeing the glazed over look and the bloodshot, tired eyes, he just grimaced at himself, leaving the gel untouched.
Walking back to the bedroom, he lifted the bag off the bed to the floor, fluffing the sheets and duvet. The moment he finished smoothing out the top layer, the perfection was ruined by the cooing orange cat that hopped up on the bed, looking for attention. Her head found the back of Bakugo’s hand, butting aggressively as her way of asking for attention. Bakugo turned his hand, rubbing her head; her entire face being covered by his palm. Her whiskers tickled the new scar on his pinky. Bakugo couldn’t help the smile from lifting the corner of his lips as the cat turned a few times in a tight circle before plopping down on the bed. He rubbed her stomach roughly a few times. When she started grabbing his arm and nipping at his wrist, he flipped her over, fluffing her fur and rubbing her head. The moment she let go, Bakugo turned away, reaching down to grab his bag.
As he walked into the kitchen, finding the last chilled water bottle in the fridge, he heard the small paws clicking on the tiled floors behind him. Her clean bowl sat on the counter, allowing Bakugo to fill it quickly.
“Auntie Mina will be by tomorrow to feed you again, so don’t eat this too quickly, okay?” Bakugo mumbled to the cat, very glad he lived alone so no one could hear him talking to an animal. She nipped at his ankles, immediately turning her attention to the food when the dish hit the floor.
“Don’t be a dick.” Bakugo swung his backpack over his shoulder, his eye catching the small square box on the counter. Glossy, red wrapping paper tied together with a gossamer red ribbon, a large bow perched on top. Bakugo felt his hand go to reach for it, but he hesitated. Should he even bother bringing it? What if he doesn’t see him? Why did he buy the idiot a gift anyway? What possessed him to pick it off the shelf, thinking of the smile it would create if the box was opened.
Bakugo stood in the doorway of his kitchen, staring at the box as he heard the crunching of dry kernels being hoovered by his cat. Just take it, he told himself. If you don’t see him, you bring it home. Throw it out. Whatever. But bring it. Just in case.
It was the hope that annoyed Bakugo. The hope of going home and seeing him. As if it was location that kept them apart for years. As if going back to their shared homestead would automatically reappear his best friend. And every year prior should have proven to him that hope was pointless. And yet his heart still ached. He still bought a gift and wrapped it with care. And he let his hand reach out, grab the box, and place it delicately in the bag on top of his belongings.
He sighed to himself, leaving the apartment for his trip back home. He willed himself to stop hoping, knowing full well the long journey would only grow his yearning.
*********
Kirishima looked out the window, down on the glistening city. Christmas lights twinkled below, warming the chill darkness of the oncoming night. The snow was falling slowly, as if he were stuck inside a recently jostled snowglobe. He was excited to leave, to head home for the holidays. He had been talking to his mom a few days ago, and the plan was to leave tomorrow night. One more night in the city before three full days off. He would get Riot settled in the kennel tomorrow morning; those goodbyes were always the hardest, even if he was leaving the black lab for only a couple of days.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He briefly swiped up to see his messages as he turned into the office, picking up his bag as he passed his desk.
Midoriya [16:44]
The offer still stands for tonight! Dinner will be fantastic and we always make too much.
Kirishima smiled at the message. He’d been invited to the Midoriya household a few days ago after talking with Deku about his holiday plans when they bumped into each other on patrol. He was tempted to head over; a home cooked meal did seem more tempting than the microwaveable concoction he had waiting for him in his freezer. His thumbs flew over the letters on his phone, quickly typing out his reply.
Kirishima [16:45]
I’ll take you up on that! I’ll see you in about an hour?
Kirishima immediately saw a thumbs up attach itself to his message. Cool, he nodded to himself. That would make four holiday dinners he promised to attend in three days, but he was glad to be able to spend as much time with his friends and family as he was able.
There was just one person’s name that never appeared on his list, no matter how much he hoped. He knew Bakugo only lived a train ride away, but he had no reason to call him. No reason to continue the short check ins he would give that ended up being one sided only a few months after graduation. No reason to hope this year would be different and he would see him standing outside his door, gift in hand, on Christmas morning. Kirishima stopped buying him a little gift every year. He stopped looking up train tickets. But the hope that it would all change never went away.
As he left the agency, his boots crushed the snow beneath his feet, the crunching sound euphoric to his ears. As falling snow tickled his bare cheeks, he headed north to catch the train to Midoriya’s house, wondering if Uraraka would be bringing mochi.
************
Bakugo’s elbow pressed into the glass barrier between the train’s door and his seat as a tired mother beside him tried her best to wrangle a small child from running out of her grasp. Her hip pushed against his; she turned to smile up at him apologetically when the young boy broke free, skirting past Bakugo’s feet. Bakugo angled his toe up just slightly, enough for the boy to stumble. Bakugo leaned forward, cupping the child’s waist in the cradle of his elbow just before he began to fall, hoisting him up to sit on Bakugo’s lap. He leaned in, whispering into the boy’s ear.
“Stop being a little shit or Santa’s not coming to your house tomorrow.” With a smirk, he lifted the boy off his lap, twisting his hips to deposit the child back in his mother’s lap. The boy sat, stunned, before wrapping his tiny hands around his mother’s neck, cuddling in to her chest and staying quiet as an Angel. The woman smiled up at Bakugo with a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what he said, but she didn’t care. Bakugo nodded back once before turning his attention out the window across from himself.
He’d always wanted a kid of his own. A little terror that would be just like him; running around full of energy. And he’d be the best fucking kid. Because he’d be confident and powerful, and smart, like him. But also kind, and funny, and sincere, and thoughtful like….
Bakugo leaned his head back, hitting the window behind his head. The cold glass permeated his hair, sending a chill down his spine. It was enough to stop his wandering mind.
None of that kind of thinking. Not today. Not now.
************
“Kiri-pima!” A young girl with tight, curly brown hair ran down the hallway, bursting past her mom and dad, welcoming Kirishima into the Midoriya household. Kirishima bent down, smiling at the leaping bean of energy, hoisting her up by her waist. He tossed her gently into the air, just a half foot above his head, catching her securely, but pretending to drop her on the way down. Her giggles filled the small space. He lifted her again, tossing her a bit higher.
“Oh my gosh-“ Ochako started to reach out her hand, ready to tap her child if Kirishima actually dropped her. Midoriya’s hand brushed her shoulder, turning her around into the warmth of the living room. She kept her gaze on Hina’s smiling face as Kirishima followed close behind them; Hina gripped tightly to his neck, her butt resting on his sturdy forearm.
Kirishima could smell meat roasting, hearing some clattering from the kitchen. Midoriya pivoted his path to disappear into the kitchen.
“Mom, what can I do?” Midoriya asked quickly. Kirishima thought he should go help as well until Hina gripped his hair, pulling harshly, but only feeling like a little tug. Kirishima turned his attention to the rosy cheeked cherub in his arms.
“Can I show you my tree?” Hina pointed towards the tall tree in front of the wide balcony window, the twinkling lights reflected in the glass. Kirishima took a few steps forward, watching from the corner of his eye Ochako collapsing on the couch, covering herself in a plush, forest green blanket. Her eyes already closing when Kirishima turned to look at the Christmas tree.
There were a decent amount of presents under the tree. Kirishima noticed most said Hina on the tags, a few for Mom and Dad (written in messy handwriting). A tug on his hair made Kirishima look up.
“See that one!” Hina pointed to a paper circle with diamond and triangular holes cut throughout the centre to look like a snowflake.
“Did you make that?” Kirishima asked.
“Yep! At school. And I made that one and that one!” Hina pointed at two more paper snowflakes, both unique in their design. Kirishima looked at other ornaments around the tree. He pointed to one pink orb with a thin, black disc surrounding it.
“Whose is that one?”
“Mommy’s!” Hina giggled at Kirishima’s simple question.
“And that one?” Kirishima pointed at a very faded, vintage All Might ornament.
“That’s daddy’s. He’s had that since he was like me.” Hina leaned her small head on Kirishima’s shoulder.
“I bet. Do you have mine?” Kirishima looked around through the mismatched ornaments, looking for the design he knew existed; a red circle shaped like a gear. Hina shook her head silently as Kirishima spotted one near the top. A grenade with a burst of orange and yellow felt protruding from the top like an explosion. Hina saw Kirishima’s gaze stalling on the small ornament.
“That one is uncle Kacchan’s.” Hina’s needed not explain as Kirishima smiled fondly.
“I know.” He turned his gaze to look at her. Her eyes were glistening in the tree light, like stars lighting up her face.
“When is he coming?” Hina asked. Kirishima didn’t know how to answer her. He turned to look at Ochako, who was snoring quietly on the couch behind him.
“Is he supposed to come today?” Kirishima asked, a wishful lilt to his question. His heart beat a bit heavier, feeling the pulse in his throat. He swallowed, not wanting this little girl to sense his nerves.
“I dunno. He comes by for Christmas sometimes. Him and Daddy yell at each other, but he always gets the orange paper crown. I get the pink one cause Mommy takes the red one.” Hina’s train of thought was hard for Kirishima to follow.
“Right.” As Kirishima laughed softly at her, she nuzzled into his neck, hugging him tighter.
************
“Is anyone home? Why is no one greeting me with affection?” Bakugo yelled out to the empty hallway as he dropped his bag on the floor, pulling his boots off. His mother’s perfectly coiffed hair peeked out from the kitchen doorway, heading out to meet Bakugo in the hallway.
“Hello my lovely son,” Mitsuki sauntered towards him, giving him a side hug.
“Where’s dad?” Bakugo immediately asked, ducking out of her reach as she tried to kiss his temple.
“Well, Merry fucking Christmas to you, child. He’s in the kitchen.” She pointed behind her with her thumb quickly before reaching to pull off his jacket.
“Merry fucking Christmas to you, hag.” Bakugo passed her by, turning to give her a brief hug from behind before heading in to the kitchen, seeing his dad in front of a very crowded counter. Mixing bowls, cutting boards, knives, and pans strewn over every surface.
“Hey, dad,” Bakugo greeted quietly, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater. His dad looked up, pushing up the bridge of his glasses with an oiled knuckle.
“Hey, bud. How was the train? I’m glad you came home today. I’m thinking it’ll be crazy tomorrow. So many passengers - families travelling-“
“Yeah.” Bakugo cut him off. “What’s going on here? I thought we weren’t doing dinner until tomorrow. I would have come earlier if-“
“He’s making dinner for the two families who were affected by the fire last week.” Mitsuki came back in to the kitchen. She reached for an apron off the hook by the door, trying to throw it over Bakugo’s head. “You’ll get your sweater dirty.”
Bakugo let her tie the strings behind his back. He nudged the shoulder of his dad, silently moving in to help him prep. They’d done this so many times before, words were not necessary. He was handed a knife and started to julienne carrots into thick chunks.
“It’s not much. I can only do what I can. Not like my son out there-“
“Dad.” Bakugo cut him off with a strict tone. He didn’t like his dad talking like that. “I’m happy to help you in here, too.” Masaru nudged him back with his shoulder.
“Speaking of out there…is that another new scar?” Mitsuki pushed on Bakugo’s hair line by his left temple, pushing the hair back to show the pink skin of a new, jagged scar. Bakugo pulled his head away.
“Yeah. My job is fucking dangerous.” She just tsked in response. Bakugo was thankful when she eventually left the kitchen.
“How is work?” Masaru asked, his voice calm and soothing.
“Fine.” Bakugo mumbled. It was fine. Nothing spectacular, but not boring. He was busy, but not overwhelmed. His team was solid and reliable. Leaving the city to come back home gave him no heart palpitations thinking of the region being left in disarray. He trusted his team. It took a lot of work getting there, but he was satisfied. And Mirko would be around, so he truly felt relaxed.
“Good. We miss you.” Neither father nor son looked at each other, but the closeness of their bodies in the kitchen felt like a warm hug. This was how they had always been; working together towards one goal; showing affection through accomplishments.
“Yeah. Miss you guys too.” Bakugo mumbled.
“What are you doing tonight? Any plans?” Masaru never meant to be sharp with his words - that was his mother’s expertise - but the question inadvertently cut Bakugo like a dagger.
There was something he wanted to do tonight. Somewhere he wanted to go. Someone he wanted to see. But he knew he wouldn’t go. He would stay at home, sitting alone, reading whatever book his mom was in the middle of. If he did go out, he’d end up just going to Midoriya’s, not even sure if they were there tonight. Maybe he’d give them a call. Maybe he’d just stop by. Visiting Inko would be a nice enough time. She may even be sitting Hina.
“I may go to Inko’s.”
“Lovely idea. She’d love to see you,” Mitsuki stepped back into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Masaru’s waist, resting her cheek on his back so she could look at her son. Bakugo nodded silently, solidifying his new plan. “Any plans to see Eijirou this year?”
At the mention of his name, the name that had been swimming around Bakugo’s head for a few days now, his hand trembled as he paused cutting the vegetables. He quickly started again, trying to play off his hesitation as listening to her question. His mouth immediately went dry, unsure how to respond.
“No.” He decided blunt honesty was the best path with her. Sure he thought about it, but no, there were no plans. There was no discussion between them. Not about Christmas. Not about work. Not for the last few years. Kirishima just stopped contacting him.
“That’s a shame. You boys used to be so close. I always thought-“
“Mitsuki…” Masaru warned his wife. He became more attuned with the sparks of chaos between Mitsuki and Katsuki; over the years learning how to speak up to extinguish the embers before they ignited.
“What?” She pulled back from her hug. She rested her palms on his back as Masaru kept working on the food in front of him. “I’m just saying I thought he was a nice boy. You were good together. I thought you’d end up-“
“We never dated.” Bakugo dropped the knife, turning to leave the kitchen while avoiding eye contact with his mom. He walked down the hallway, pulling the apron off to throw on the couch as he walked by. He grabbed his bag, making his way quickly to his old bedroom. He was relieved in these moments his parents never turned his room into a sewing room, or home gym. It was inevitable he would need a sanctuary whenever he came home for whatever reason.
He should have dated Kirishima. He should have tried to be more honest about what he felt. As he threw his bag on his bed, he recalled the winter breaks when they would stop at home to spend the night in his room before heading to a hike the next morning. Kirishima on the futon and Bakugo leaning over the bed as they talked most of the night instead of resting for the strenuous day ahead of them. And they talked about nothing. Which pro hero would win in a fight. Which one of their friends did the stupidest thing during their last term. Which was better; ramen noodles or udon noodles.
Bakugo remembered fondly each pointless conversation they had as he pulled the red box from his bag. He placed it on his pillow. Staring at the box, he felt a pang in his chest, as if a vice were squeezing his heart. He was an idiot then and he’s an idiot now. But for a different reason.
Maybe he could bring the gift to Inko’s. Maybe she could get Deku to give him the gift, even if it happened after Christmas. He didn’t put a tag on, so Kirishima didn’t need to know who it came from. Maybe Kirishima would just know it came from him. Maybe he would call Bakugo, just to check if he was right. Maybe…
Bakugo pushed the thought out of his head. He rubbed his face in his palms, moving his fingers back to comb through his unruly hair. He needed to stop thinking like this. The what ifs and the nostalgia for a relationship that never existed.
He threw his head down on the pillow, facing the gift box as it took up his entire vision. He kicked his bag towards the other side of the bed as he lifted his feet up. Closing his eyes, Bakugo’s body fell limp, sleep quickly overtaking his exhausted mind.
************
“That was an absolutely amazing dinner. Thank you,” Kirishima gushed as he stood, reaching out to take the empty plates from in front of Inko and Ochako. Midoriya stood as well, wiping Hina’s mouth with a napkin before taking her plate and his own, following Kirishima into the kitchen. The ladies stayed behind; Ochako lifted Hina on her hip as they made their way to the living room to relax as the boys cleaned up.
Kirishima pulled his hair back into a high ponytail, just long enough to fit in the hair tie; small pieces framing his face. He pushed his sleeves up as the sink filled with water. Midoriya collected the dirty dishes together, moving adeptly to Kirishima’s other side as dishes became ready for drying.
“I’m glad you ended up coming. Hina really loves seeing you,” Midoriya broke the silence between them. Kirishima smiled at the conversation.
“She’s a gem, Izuku. I don’t know how you guys do it. Raise her and still crushing it at work?” Kirishima shook his head in disbelief.
“Mom helps a lot. Tsu has also been super helpful when both of us get called in. We make it work.” Midoriya took a plate out of Kirishima’s hand, drying it as he walked to the cupboard.
“Right. It takes a village.”
“It does. Even Kacchan has been known to stop in and have uncle time.” At the mention of Bakugo’s name, Kirishima froze, his hands deep in the water. Maybe he could ask Midoriya. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding the not so obvious words to finally squash his curiosities.
“Hina said he comes by for Christmas. Will he be around tomorrow?” Kirishima felt he had played it smooth. Apparently not, as Midoriya leaned his back against the counter, dry dish in hand and he continued to rub the plate unnecessarily, staring quizzically at Kirishima.
“No plans to see him this year…” Midoriya trailed off his thoughts as if his hesitation would snap Kirishima into confessing a hidden meaning to his question.
“Oh, well, too bad for Hina.” Kirishima focussed his gaze on the sink of sudsy water.
“Yeah…too bad for Hina.” Midoriya smirked, finally pulling his gaze away from Kirishima.
“Don’t say it like that,” Kirishima scoffed. Midoriya shook his head in response, stepping out of Kirishima’s sight.
“I’m not saying anything like anything. But if I were to say something like something, I’d say you’re both being idiots. But I’m not saying anything. I’m keeping my nerdy, freckled face out of his business and subsequently out of your business.” Midoriya took the plate Kirishima was patiently handing him.
“I’m not an idiot. I’m realistic.” Kirishima knew Midoriya was referring to Kirishima’s cease of all communications with Bakugo. He had tried to keep contact after graduation, but it became too heartbreaking to see all of the unanswered messages piling up. The endless voice messages he left that went unanswered. He just didn’t have the courage to keep being rejected.
“Okay. Realistically, if he walked through that door right now, what would you do?” Midoriya put the drying towel down, turning to face Kirishima.
“Nothing, man,” Kirishima sighed.
“Nothing?”
“Cause he’s not coming through that door. And if he did, he wouldn’t give a shit if I were here or not. Cause there was a time he could have cared, and he didn’t. So what would change now?” Kirishima couldn’t look at Midoriya. He could see the pity in his eyes.
“Well…it’s Christmas.” Midoriya’s answer was weak. Kirishima chuckled.
“We spent plenty of Christmases together at school.”
“Okay…my question still stands.” When Kirishima looked confused, Midoriya repeated. “If he walked through that door, what would you do? Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically? Hypothetically, I would give him a big hug and wish him a Merry Christmas.” Kirishima sighed. passing another dish to Midoriya.
“Ei-“
“What do you want me to say? I would go up to him and confess the stupid crush I’ve had on him for a decade? I would tell him how mad I am at him for not having the balls to figure out his shit in high school? You want me to say I would kiss him in some over the top romantic gesture and we would be together for the rest of our lives? That’s not real, Izuku. That’s not real life. Real life is clumsy and quiet, and subtext, and awkward. It’s standing in a room with someone you’re unapologetically in love with and not being able to speak to them. It’s being their best friend and knowing everything about them, and then drifting apart so you’re strangers now. There’s no coming back from that with a kiss under the mistletoe.” Kirishima punctuated his words by pulling the plug on the sink, the sound of water drowning out the rest of their conversation. Kirishima dried his hands in the towel in Midoriya’s hands before walking out to the living room.
************
Bakugo had wandered down the stairs in a daze, seeing his mom pass by him briefly,
“What time is it?” He called after her, his voice groggy from sleep.
“Just past 6. Your father is just finishing up packing the food. You’re going to take it over.” Her voice was a disembodied demand as she was rummaging through the hallway closet.
“What the fuck-“
“We’ve been working hard all day. You came in, got sensitive about your non boyfriend, then disappeared for 4 hours. So yeah, you’re the Christmas elf delivery boy!” Mitsuki found what she was looking for and appeared in front of Bakugo, shoving a green elf hat over his mussed up hair. The grimace on his face conveyed all his distain for her in that moment. He went to remove the hat when her finger popped up, halting his movement.
“Ah! Katsuki,” his dad came out of the kitchen, carrying two full bags of food. “Wonderful, just in time. We said you’ll be by in about twenty minutes. The kids got so excited when I mentioned you would drop everything off.”
“Kids?” Bakugo cocked an eyebrow at his dad.
“Yeah. Just think, they get to meet Dynamight in person!”
“Great Explosion-“
“Yeah, yeah.” Mitsuki slapped the back of Bakugo’s head, surprisingly not affecting the elf hat.
Begrudgingly, and still a bit sleepy, Bakugo slid into his boots and shoved his coat on as a thought suddenly popped into his head. He darted past his parents, back upstairs, to grab the red box on his bed. He heard his mother yelling after him, but he was already back, grabbing the bags from his dad’s outstretched arms, before she could finish her rant about clean floors.
No more than two hours later, food dropped off, a short display of explosive sparks lighting up a congregation of small children’s faces (with reassurance to the parents that nothing would get out of control), and Bakugo found himself in front of Inko Midoriya’s apartment door. He would just go in, drop off the gift for Midoriya to give to Kirishima, and maybe, if he were lucky, get to squish the face of the only kid he wanted to see on Christmas.
With one tap of his knuckles against the door, it swung open immediately, the gentle smile of Inko already leaning in for a hug. She ushered him inside so she could shut the cold air out from behind him. Between the time of him falling asleep that afternoon and leaving to drop off the food, the snow had started; the air much more frigid after the sun officially set.
A padding of tiny footsteps quickly approached. Bakugo prepped himself for a hug, but instead Hina reached up to grab the red box in his hand.
“For me?” Bakugo suddenly felt like shit. He didn’t have her gift. He had mailed it to Midoriya last week, so it was wrapped somewhere for her, but he didn’t even think about coming in empty handed tonight.
“No, Hin. Not for you.” Bakugo ruffled the curly hair. She pouted, inspecting the box. Bakugo looked up at Inko. “I was hoping I could give that to Izuku. It’s for Kirishima. I’m not going to see him this year-“
“Kiri-PIMA! It’s one for you! You have one under the tree now too!” Hina burst out into a full sprint down the hallway towards the living room. Bakugo watched her run, confused by her words until he saw the corner of the couch.
A wide bicep hung over the back of the couch. A tuft of red hair poked out as Kirishima turned to face the onslaught of Hina jumping onto the armrest. Bakugo watched his profile light up with that grin; that smile that sent a shockwave of nerves coursing through Bakugo’s gut. He felt his heartbeat in his throat, hearing the sound of Kirishima’s laughter. The sound he would fall asleep to, or stay on the phone just an extra ten minutes to hear. The laugh that brought a smile to his own lips.
Bakugo was pushed from his daze by Inko’s hand on his arm. She brushed past him, heading in to the living room behind her granddaughter, leaning behind Hina to take the gift from her hands to place under the tree with the rest of the wrapped boxes. As his curiosity peaked his interest, Kirishima looked towards the door to see who brought a gift for him.
And Bakugo couldn’t move as Kirishima was suddenly standing at the end of the hall, staring awkwardly in his direction. He shoved his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit he thought he expelled after graduating. Bakugo watched Hina standing behind Kirishima, pushing the back of his legs until he started to walk forward.
“Hey.” Kirishima hand rubbed the back on his neck.
“Yeah, hey,” Bakugo mumbled back.
“Merry Christmas.” Kirishima chuckled, his eyes searching Bakugo’s face. For a moment Bakugo couldn’t figure out what he was looking at; why he was staring so intently. Then he remembered, pulling down the bright green elf hat from on top of his head. Kirishima just smiled that beautiful smile.
“Merry Christmas.” Bakugo tried sounding normal and not as if his throat was dry and his heart was racing and his hands were sweating.
“I didn’t know you were coming-“
“I didn’t know you would be here-“
Both stopped talking after they spoke over each other.
“Kacchan! Come in! We’ve already had dinner, but you’re just in time for dessert.” Midoriya’s voice carried through the small apartment.
Bakugo side stepped around Kirishima, looking disappointed at his awkward start to their meeting. He had spent multiple sleepless nights thinking about starting to talk to Kirishima again; to mend the rift that grew between them over natural distance throughout the years. And yet, here he was, standing in front of him, and Bakugo couldn’t act on those thoughts. Those hopes to wrap his arms around Kirishima again, and have his arms embrace him in return. Instead, he shuffled past Kirishima in the small hallway to head towards laughter.
A sturdy hand wrapped around Bakugo’s bicep as he passed, halting his step just before he entered the living room. Behind the corner, apart from everyone else, they stood tightly together; Bakugo’s shoulder pressed in to Kirishima’s chest. He let himself be pulled in to the warmth of Kirishima; he was always so warm. Or Bakugo was just cold from being outside not too long ago. He refused to believe the heat radiating from Kirishima was anything special for just him. The warm breath Bakugo felt against his neck as Kirishima leaned in, speaking quietly so as not to let the others hear just a few feet away.
“Hi.”
It was a simple word that held years of broken communication. It welcomed Bakugo back from the texts he read every morning, every lunch break, every evening that he just couldn’t answer. The space between them had grown so deep. Now, with the one word whispered by Kirishima into his ear, it gave Bakugo permission to lean a bit further in to Kirishima’s chest; the space between them becoming non existent.
“Hey.”
“Welcome home.”