Work Text:
If Bakugou Katsuki had a hundred yen coin for every time something went wrong before he was on the clock, he’d probably be able to buy the Iida mansion in Roppongi Hills three times over.
He knows that it’s the kind of territory that comes with the job of being a pro-hero and he’s not complaining — being a hero has been his dream since he was out of the womb — but for once, just one day in his life, he’d like to be able to get coffee, treat his squad, and enjoy a peaceful morning of paperwork before he fights crime.
It’s a crazy statement to make because when he was a U.A. student, all he craved was the thrill of the fight and the desire to scratch the itch of getting into the field and doing something right. But he’s come a long way since then: starting out as a rookie hero straight out of U.A. at eighteen and working his way up the ranks took far too much energy and youth out of him and essentially turned him into the grandpa he knew he was deep inside.
Now though, all his hard work has paid off: he’s twenty-three, owns his own hero agency, and sits comfortably in the rankings as number two, sandwiched between Lemillion at number one and Deku at number three. Had he been several years younger, being number two hero and just barely being above Deku would’ve given him an aneurysm and about twenty temper tantrums. He would’ve worked himself to the bone and given his blood, sweat, and tears until he saw that stupid number one next to his name.
But at age twenty-three, Katsuki has, for the most part, mellowed out. Instead of wanting the number one ranking, he wants to get more than five hours of sleep a day. Instead of working himself to death for a number that’s based solely on the public, he wants to get two hours of peace and quiet with his cat. Instead of wanting to be several rankings higher than Deku, he wants to be able to get a goddamn cup of coffee before he goes to work.
Alas, criminals can’t wait a whole three hours and apparently must start causing shit at fuckass seven in the morning.
Katsuki wants to abandon his hero's morals and kill a man.
It started off as a pretty amicable morning, all things considered. He’d left his apartment in Kameido on time, managed to get a seat on the Sobu line for once, and made it all the way to the cafe next to his agency building out in Bunkyo earlier than expected. No old ladies needed help crossing the street, no cats got stuck in a tree, no robbers decided to break into a jewelry store.
It was too peaceful of a morning, which probably should’ve been a warning flag that things were gonna go to shit later.
Personally, Katsuki didn't want to think too far ahead. He's just grateful that he had a morning to breathe.
The bell at the door rings to signal his entry and he slides into line behind a group of chattering school girls. Thankfully, it’s early enough that the majority of the cafe’s occupants were just sleepy eyed students who are too tired to care about the presence of a pro hero and grandparents who barely remember their grandkids’ faces, let alone one of the numerous heroes on the news channels: as much as he enjoys the recognition that comes along with being the number two hero, he also really enjoys being able to walk around in anonymity as a civilian sometimes.
Hey, he’s twenty-three and overworked. A guy likes to have a break from the spotlight every once in a while.
He pulls out his phone to shoot a text to his crew, but before he can even tap the screen alive, someone bumps his shoulder and the device clatters to the floor. Katsuki turns over his shoulder, a “Hey, watch it” on the tip of his tongue, but the offender is already bowing in apology.
“Sorry about that.”
He’s dressed in all black with a mask and a baseball cap and Katsuki has half a mind to flag the guy as sus as fuck, because seriously, who shows up to a local coffee shop dressed like that? But then the stranger’s eyes flicker from the ground to Katsuki’s face and he blinks in surprise at the crimson eyes that meet his.
Red eyes that would’ve matched his, save for the fact that there’s nothing but genuine apologeticness in them. They’re a softer shade too — where Katsuki’s is more reminiscent of crushed rubies, this guy’s eyes are closer to the gentleness of a camellia: as deep red as the petals, but kind and sincere and honest as the meaning behind them.
And despite the guy’s poor choice in clothing, there’s nothing about him that radiates animosity nor ill-intent. Instead, his presence is the complete opposite: he lowers Katsuki’s hackles and for whatever reason, puts him at ease, despite the fact that he is an utter stranger who accidentally bumped into Katsuki in line.
“All good,” Katsuki says as the stranger bends at the knee. “Wait, you don’t—”
The guy tilts his head, his eyes glittering like morning dewdrops on flower petals and reaches out to hand Katsuki his phone. Katsuki can’t see his lips, but he’s got a strange feeling that he’s smiling under the mask. “It’s my bad, don’t worry about it. Is it broken or anything?”
Katsuki waves his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. I can get it fixed if it is.”
The glint in his eyes dims ever-so slightly. For whatever reason, Katsuki almost feels a little guilty.
“No way man! If I broke it, I can’t have you paying out of your own wallet to get it fixed! Here wait, let me—”
Katsuki slides his phone into his back pocket without sparing it a glance. “Seriously, it’s fine. Trust me, I can cover it if I need to. It’s no worry at all.”
The guy’s eyebrows scrunch together and Katsuki shakes his head, thoroughly amused. “But I—”
“Look. If it really bothers you,” Katsuki shoves his hands into his pockets, smirking slightly, “then buy me a coffee.”
He really shouldn’t be that pleased when the guy’s eyes brighten considerably and he shifts to the right to let the guy get in line with him.
“So, what’s with the get-up?” he asks leisurely, sliding his gaze back to his newfound coffee benefactor. “Not everyday a guy so clearly in disguise pulls up to a place like this.”
To Katsuki’s surprise, the guy flusters and right over his mask, he catches a hint of flushed cheeks and a touch of bashfulness in his flower petal eyes.
“Well, it’s—”
“He was here! I saw him run in here!” A woman bursts into the cafe, a notepad tucked under her arm and a pen in her hair. A man with a camera perched over his shoulder follows shortly, a scowl permanently creased into his face. “We’ll catch Kirishima-san this time!”
“Tch, we could’ve gone for an easier target,” the man — photographer? — remarks darkly. “His bandmates are easier to interview than him; you know how easy it is to get Ashido-san and Sero-san on camera. We didn’t have to do all this work chasing him around town.”
The journalist rolls her eyes. “Obviously, but there’s so much footage of them already. We even have more footage of Todoroki-san than we do of Kirishima-kun, and Todoroki-san is already a toughie for footage.”
Her partner sighs. “Whatever you say, but—oh! No way, it’s Dynamight! The number two hero in the flesh!”
Katsuki freezes as he locks eyes with the photographer and before he can blink twice, the woman is up in his face with a mic.
“Dynamight! What an honor to meet you, can I trouble you for a interview right now?”
God, the media circus were such vultures. Katsuki fights the urge to massage his temples and schools his tongue to spout some practiced lines. Seriously, what does a guy have to do to get a break around here?
“I’m currently off duty at the moment and not taking interviews,” he replies, forcing a smile and palming around his bag for a business card (and all before he can get his free coffee too. He wonders if he can throw them in the cell for this sort of crime). “Contact my agency and maybe we can work something out later.”
He unceremoniously shoves the business card into her hands. “I’m in the middle of getting breakfast with—” Katsuki pauses, turning to look at his stranger, but to his astonishment, the guy is gone, vanished into thin air. He blinks, staring at the empty space next to him. How the fuck did he not sense him leaving?
“I’m in the middle of getting breakfast,” he says, waving a hand. “Bother me when I’m actually on the clock.”
Katsuki flashes a lazy smirk that doesn’t exactly align with the dark glare he’s shooting with his eyes and he doesn’t really get any joy out of intimidating civilians like this (and Ochako already told him off a million times for doing so), but it does the trick. The journalist and photographer babble some kind of apology before scampering out the door and he sighs, turning back to the line.
Thankfully, it hadn’t caused too much of a hubbub, but now, there’s a couple of glances flicking over at him and the whisper of his hero name bounces from table to table. Fuck, he just wanted to chill out for a morning. Katsuki scowls as he digs for his wallet, resigning himself to 1) paying for his own coffee, and 2) that he’s just going to have to head straight to the agency after this little side quest.
Just as he reaches the counter, there’s a loud BOOM that shakes the floor and before he can search for the source of the noise, there’s a shout of “WATCH OUT” and then something slams into him hard before the ceiling comes crashing down.
He hears a scream as the rubble rains down on them and his vision blacks out briefly. Katsuki's vaguely aware of the weight on his chest and the ringing of his ears and he blinks, watching the dancing spots in his eyes, before the hero training kicks in. He shoves whatever had slammed into him off his torso and stumbles to his feet, ignoring the pitched buzzing in his ears as he surveys the damage.
It’s bad: half the ceiling had fallen and thankfully, he sees most of the customers are unharmed and half tucked underneath the tables. There’s several people crying and the elderly are shuddering, but for the most part, they’re alright. Katsuki reaches for the radio he carries with him and calls into the agency.
“Oi, you hearin’ me?!”
The speaker crackles to life and Kaminari’s voice comes through. “Hey, what’s good Baku-bro!”
“Emergency in sector three at the Sendagi intersection.” he says and then Shinsou’s voice patches through right after.
“Status?”
“Ceiling’s collapsed and there’s no visible exit that I can see right now. Cause of the collapse is unknown. Might be some villain scum still running around. Send Uravity and Froppy for rescue and get a squad to search the area.”
“On it. Rescue team is on their way and I’ve sent Chargebolt with Real Steel to survey the area. Dynamight, is it possible for you to make an exit?”
He shakes his head. “Not unless I want the rest of the building to come down too. Building’s pretty old, foundation’s weak too. I’m not gonna risk it.”
“Checks out. Alright, keep an eye on the situation and stay put until rescue shows up. Over.”
“Tch. You don’t have to tell me twice,” Katsuki mutters, clipping the radio to his belt. “I know how this works, dipshit.”
Katsuki wipes his hands on his shirt as he picks over the rubble to check up on the customers. His initial assessment was correct: for the most part, they’re all okay. There’s one girl who has a decently large chunk of ceiling stuck on her leg and he manages to blast it off of her so he could wrap her ankle with the first aid kit in his backpack.
The check-up goes by quickly and once he finishes his rounds, he collapses next to the barista counter. A brief thought flashes through his mind: he wonders if the coffee beans are alright and if he can just go make his own cup at this point; the idea makes him want to laugh hysterically.
God, maybe overworking yourself in your twenties will make you go clinically insane. Katsuki makes a mental note to check out All Might’s list of approved therapists for pro heroes.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Black enters his peripheral vision and Katsuki’s head snaps up to meet the camellia eyes from earlier.
“It’s you,” he mutters. “I thought you left…?”
His stranger scratches his head sheepishly, his eyes glimmering with faint sheepishness. “I saw the journalists and I panicked a bit. Sorry for leaving you to deal with them.”
Katsuki shakes his head, his thoughts dizzy. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. But you…”
It’s then he looks, really takes a look at the stranger crouched in front of him. He doesn’t like the media, even panicked from their appearance. The black hoodie, the baseball cap, the mask — it’s all definitely a disguise and the way he had so easily disappeared once the journalists had entered the cafe. And then the name drops from earlier—
Ashido. Sero. Todoroki. Kirishima. Kirishima.
It clicks then. Katsuki’s not too practiced in the music industry or world of celebrities in general: as a pro hero and the number two one at that, he’s probably now considered an A-list celeb in terms of fame, but it’s not nearly the same as entertainment celebrities and these specific names, he remembers because of the trending article that had come out nearly two years prior.
BREAKING: TODOROKI SHOUTO NO LONGER IN A HERO IN TRAINING?! SON OF THE RETIRED NUMBER ONE HERO ENDEAVOUR BREAKS OUT WITH RISING J-ROCK BAND ‘RED RIOT’!
The news had spread like wildfire and though Katsuki hadn’t been classmates with Todoroki at U.A., he definitely does remember the media hounding the gates of the campus for months. He had heard from rumors that Todoroki hadn’t been attending classes that often and there had been bets on what he was really doing, but to leave the world of heroes for music?
It had blindsided the whole country. Red Riot’s name was on everyone’s lips by the next morning and every single one of Katsuki’s classmates had been raving about their music. At the time, he hadn’t cared too much: he’d been far too focused on his goal and also ridiculously too high strung enough to give more than two shits about anyone who wasn’t himself.
But then, then, he had heard Red Riot’s music playing in the common room from Ochako of all people and that’s when he had ducked into his room to really search up who these fuckers even were.
(Ochako had teased the fuck out of him when she caught him listening to them during his warm-up session, but then the resulting product had been her buying their CDs and vinyl records for his birthday and Christmas gifts, so ha! Choke on that, Round Cheeks!)
Katsuki wouldn’t call himself a diehard fan: he’d never been to any of their concerts and he never really kept up with any of their news, but even he would recognize the band’s faces from anywhere. Which is why he’s kicking himself now, for not recognizing the pair of red camellia eyes upon first glance.
“You’re Kirishima,” he guesses, and from the way the stranger’s eyes light up in alarm, he knows he’s hit the mark. “Red Riot’s lead singer.”
“I—” The guy — Kirishima — looks around furtively, before he looks back at Katsuki. “You can’t say anything.”
“Tch. Why would I?” Katsuki snorts. “I hate the media the same amount you do, if not more. They’re a pain in the ass to deal with.”
Kirishima blinks rapidly. “So, you don’t care that I’m, you know. From a famous band.”
The pro hero stares. “Kirishima, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m fucking Dynamight. I’m on the same goddamn level of fame as you. The only difference is that I get left alone because people think I’m gonna blow them up.”
To his surprise, Kirishima barks out a laugh and then he takes a seat next to Bakugou, pulling down his mask. “God, you’re right. Sorry, I just…”
“Used to everyone caring about who you are, right?” Katsuki leans back against the base of the counter. “Typical fucking pop star ego.”
“Hey! Just so you know, I’m very down to earth and humble,” the other protests.
“No humble, down to earth person would ever say shit like that.”
Kirishima laughs and Katsuki grins to himself. It should be weird, joking around with someone this easily, but Kirishima’s just like his interviews — or at least, the ones Ochako forced him to watch with her. Katsuki’s always figured that pop stars weren’t the same as advertised on TV: they wore a public facade to protect themselves and no one ever really knew who they really were, outside of the TV talks and the stage. But Kirishima is different. He’s unfalteringly genuine, through and through — Katsuki can tell that much from their brief conversation, and he’s got a feeling that’s one of the main reasons why Kirishima doesn’t like being on camera.
He’s just far too honest to play up a role like any average celebrity would.
“So, what’s your deal, Mr. I’m-Humble-And-Famous?” Katsuki presses and the rock star tilts his head at him.
“What do you mean?”
“The fuck are you doing out here, of all places? This area is a little old and out of your territory, huh?”
Kirishima shrugs. “I was on my way to the studio. Jirou and I had an idea last night that we wanted to put down, so she booked the space in advance, but then we got separated after the paps caught up to us in Akihabara. So I just figured I’d rendezvous with her when we get there, but then one of the journalists was persistent enough to chase me here and then. You know the rest.” He peeks over at Katsuki, a small fang peeking from his smile. “I ran in here to hide, bumped into you, and then the ceiling collapsed. I was the one who shoved you, by the way. Sorry about that.”
Katsuki sits back on his haunches, tilting his head to look at Kirishima better. “It’s whatever. ‘S not the worst I’ve taken. If I got knocked out by some pop star on a bad day, then I think I should quit my fuckin’ day time job or something.”
The singer grins at him and Katsuki feels the temperature of his skin raise three more degrees. “Yeah. I could see the headlines writing themselves. ‘Pro Hero Dynamight killed in action by lead singer of Red Riot, Kirishima Eijirou!’ We’d be trending for days.”
“Thank god I died by some fuckass singer instead of loser villain,” Katsuki teases back. “I could rest in peace with that knowledge.”
Kirishima arches a brow. “Not a very heroic way to die, huh?”
“Eh, I’ve always been the villain type anyway. If anything, you could take my place as the rising number two hero if you did that.”
The laughter that Kirishima’s been holding back bursts out, warm and hearty, and Katsuki finds himself laughing along too. Damn, it’s been awhile since he’s laughed like this, and with some guy he just met too.
Some guy who just so happened to be the lead singer of a band he likes. What a fucking fever dream. Katsuki doesn’t think he wants to wake up just yet.
But of course, he can’t ever catch a break because just then, the walkie radio on his belt buzzes to life and Kaminari’s voice cuts through.
“Bakubrooooo, Dudeski! You alive?”
“One sec,” Katsuki mutters to Kirishima as he radios in. “Chargebolt, I swear to fuck if you don’t use my name right—”
“Oh guys, he’s fine, I told you so!” Kaminari’s voice echoes faintly through the walkie-talkie and Katsuki sighs, debating on the ethics of strangling his coworker when he gets out of this shit. Seriously, Kaminari should never be trusted with a damn radio.
“Chargebolt, what’s your status?” he snaps into the speaker, and there’s a crackle of “give me the damn thing” before Ochako’s voice breaks through.
“Dynamight, you there?”
“Thank god, Uravity, where the fuck are you?”
“We just arrived at the scene. Someone called the paramedics so Tsu-chan’s getting them situated right now, and I’m about to start picking at the debris. Make sure you locate everyone to the most secure spot in the building.”
Kirishima locks eyes with him and there’s a sort of understanding that passes through them, because Kirishima pulls his mask up and starts calling instructions and herding the customers towards one of the more stable corners of the room.
“Alright, got it. Get a move on then, Round Cheeks.”
“Give up that damn name already, Katsuki.”
“Not on your life,” he says with a smirk. “Later, Bubbles.”
Katsuki cuts the connection before Ochako can start cussing at him (because she’s nothing if not a good friend and she’s an even better friend for adopting his mannerism after all these years), and climbs to his feet to join Kirishima.
There isn’t much to do though, the rock star had successfully rounded everyone up into one area and was now crouched on the floor in front of the group. When Katsuki joins him, his eyes brighten.
“Any updates?”
“Yeah,” he answers, and then he shouts, “The rescue team from the Dynamight agency is here. Stay put in one place and the emergency team should be coming down any second.”
There’s a relieved smatter of cheers through the small group and they start murmuring to each other in hushed tones. Katsuki ignores them in favor of plunking down next to Kirishima.
“Thanks for helping me out earlier,” he mutters. “You didn’t have to.”
Kirishima’s camellia eyes scrunch as he smiles underneath the mask. “I wanted to. Besides, you look pretty tired, Dynamight.”
“I’m not—”
“I still owe you that coffee, by the way. I’m not forgetting about that.” Kirishima waggles his finger at him. “So this is me just helping out a friend. Besides, you look like you got enough on your plate as it is.”
Katsuki scowls. “It’s normal, so it’s whatever. But you’re just a civilian right now. It’s my duty to take care of you guys.”
“And maybe I want to be the hero to our hero for once, ever thought of that?” Kirishima pushes back and Katsuki effectively falls silent. “I know you’re the number two hero and all, but on some days, it’s okay to need a little bit of saving too.”
Kirishima’s definitely beaming now, albeit a bit shyly, but it’s enough to send Katsuki’s heart into overdrive and okay yeah, he definitely needs to get himself checked out because there’s just no way someone he had met an hour ago would be doing this to him.
There’s just no way. Right?
(But is Kirishima really someone who’s just a stranger?)
“Kirishima—”
The rubble begins to float above and Katsuki looks up in time to see blue skies and Ochako and Tsuyu, floating above the building.
“We got them!” Ochako calls as Tsuyu drifts down to them.
“Rescue operation a success, kero.” Tsuyu bounces up to him and pokes his cheek. “You okay, Katsuki?”
He bats her hand away and she flicks his face. “Fine. Get the civilians up to the surface first. I’ll make it out on my own.”
“Understood, kero.”
Tsuyu turns her attention to the crowd gathering around her and Katsuki slings his backpack over his shoulder, preparing to blast himself upwards. But before he does, he grabs a spare business card out of his bag and shoves it into Kirishima’s hands, ignoring the flush that creeps up on the back of his neck.
“Here’s my contact info,” he mutters gruffly. “If you want to talk after this, I don’t fucking know.”
It’s fucking humiliating, being the one to ask someone to call, but it’s worth it to see the smile that lights up Kirishima’s face.
“I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Katsuki really needs to see a doctor because his hands feel sweatier than usual and he hasn’t even kickstarted his Quirk yet.
“Also, you don’t need to call me Dynamight. It’s weird as fuck,” he adds, before he can stop himself. “Bakugou is fine.”
The corners of Kirishima’s eyes crinkle like the edges of a flower petal and Katsuki doesn’t know why he has the urge to smooth them out, to memorize them before he walks away from this.
“Alright, Bakugou. ” Kirishima takes a step back, clutching the business card tight. “I’ll see you soon, for sure then!”
The idea of seeing Kirishima again burns a new fire in his chest and he can’t help the grin that makes a home for itself on his lips. Soon.
“Catch ya later, Kirishima.”
He fires off his Quirk and blasts himself through the ceiling and into the blue skies above. But even as Katsuki soars through the air to join the rest of his crew, he can feel part of him falling down down down into the pits below. For some odd reason, it’s not an unwelcome feeling in the slightest.
—
(His phone buzzes in his back pocket while he’s debriefing his crew and his heart skips two beats.)