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The smell hits Denki’s nose before he even catches sight of Kirishima, all burnt caramel, unusually syrupy thick, clogging the air. He lets out a loud whistle, the only thing he can force himself to do from where he’s sprawled out on the hardwood floor, sweaty cheek pressed against the floorboards as if they might save him from the otherwise oppressive heat.
“Been spendin’ too much time with Blasty again?” he calls, trying to unstick his hand from the floor and grimacing at the way the sweat makes it slick and wet as he moves it to wave in the air. “I don’t know how you two manage to move enough to get you to reek like that, you weren’t sparring in this heat were you?”
The humid heat has already arrived and it's so close to summer break that Denki can almost taste freedom, and he for one can’t wait for the break so he can veg out for a bit, maybe go to a beach with some of the besties—though he could do without the A/C in the dorms breaking too. The only places that are mildly bearable are the bathrooms and Todoroki’s cold side, but Midoriya is monopolizing it at the moment, damn him. Denki could throw himself in between them and Midoriya would be a homie and move over, but the look Todoroki would send him would be way too sad; he can’t handle the thought of that ever-so-slight look of kicked puppy on his face.
“What?” Kirishima asks with an incredulous laugh from somewhere behind him. “No way, you know how the heat makes Bakugou sweat more than normal. We’d blow a hole in the wall.”
“Again, you mean to say,” Jiro adds with a bored tone. Denki rolls over enough to see the way Kirishima rubs the back of his head, chuckling hesitantly. Denki sniffs the air again, with more intent.
And yep, that first impression wasn’t wrong. As a beta, Kirishima’s got a milder scent than most, the comforting scent of freshly turned-over soil, and it frequently gets covered by other alphas from class just because Kirishima is a tactical kind of guy so his scent gets rubbed over mostly by accident. It’s not a big deal, but Bakugou doesn’t let anyone but Kirishima touch him, so his scent on the beta’s skin always sticks out more than most.
Today, however, it's absolutely slathered all over him, to the point where Denki can’t even make out the beta’s scent underneath. It smells well—
Like how someone would scent their mate, with bright neon lights screaming, Back off.
“So what,” he teases, rolling up onto his knees with a snicker, “you guys mates now?” From the corner of his eye, he can see Sero roll his eyes, but he doesn’t call the tape user out on it, grinning instead at Kirishima with glee.
Now, what Denki expects to happen is the red-haired teen to get a little flustered and laugh it off. Denki is aware of his crush on their resident firecracker, all the Bakusquad is, except the man himself, but some good-natured ribbing would be harmless; Kirishima always takes it well.
Instead, Kirishima’s smile falls, and he looks away, making a noncommittal noise in his throat. Denki shares a quick, concerned glance with Sero. That’s definitely a worrying reaction.
“Everything okay?” Sero asks and Kirishima opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by a loud groan.
“Geeze, it’s so hot!” Ashido complains, tugging at her tank top as she comes into the room, brushing past Kirishima. Her dark eyes blink as she takes in the awkward tension, the most boisterous group of the class unusually quiet.
Jiro hasn’t looked up from her phone, but Todoroki and Midoriya look uncomfortable to be seated in the middle between where Denki kneels on the floor and Kirishima is hovering behind the couch. The two whisper between themselves before rising at the same time and making a tactical retreat for the stairs.
“What’s going on?” Ashido asks with confusion.
“We’re just wondering what’s up with Kirishima,” Sero answers at the same time that Denki says, “Grilling Kirishima about his new boyfriend.”
Ashido’s nose scrunches up and sniffs the air in Kirishima’s direction, making him let out a scandalized noise, torso turning away from her as if that would somehow help.
“Ohhh, he’s right. You stink, Red.” She collapses onto the ground next to Denki, elbowing him in the ribs as she does so. “Still, you shouldn’t be teasin’ the boy like that, he’s sensitive. And Bakugou always scents him like that.”
“Not like that,” Denki defends, gesturing to the entirety of Kirishima’s bulky bod. “It’s totally different!”
“That’s not—” Kirishima starts waving his hands around, obviously at a loss for words. “It’s not like that!”
“What’s not like that?” Bakugou’s voice makes everyone jump, and he scowls. “Fuckin’ what?”
There’s a resounding silence as the Bakusquad individually attempts to think of a way to explain the conversation that won’t set the hot-headed Bakugou off immediately. Jiro takes the bullet for them all.
“Apparently, there’s an explanation for why Kirishima smells like you,” she says, finger twisting her earlobe idly, eyes still glued to her screen, other thumb scrolling through something.
Bakugou makes a disgusted face, which isn’t surprising. But then he slings an arm around Kirishima’s waist, pulling him in closer. “What explanation? We’re fucking dating.” He flips them all off as Denki and Ashido start screaming, both of them jumping off the floor at the proclamation.
“Since when!?”
“And you didn’t tell us!?”
“Yo, congrats!” Sero cuts through the noise that Denki and Ashido are making. Kirishima smiles a little at that, though his face looks a little pained.
Maybe Bakugou notices because he casts a dark look over them all like they’re the reason Kirishima isn’t reacting the way he should.
“Whatever, losers, we’re going upstairs. Don’t bother us.”
Denki lets out a loud gasp. “You just got down here! You can’t just leave —arggh!” His mouth is suddenly covered with tape and Sero gives the love birds a salute.
“C’ya later! Don’t come back until you’re ready to get accosted,” he snickers.
It takes a few seconds for Denki to get the tape off but by the time he does, Kirishima and Bakugou are long gone. He moans painfully and sinks back down to lay on the floor. “Why did you do that, Sero?? We needed answers!”
Sero doesn’t bother dignifying him with a response, the fucking traitor, and Ashido just laughs at him. All his friends suck, they’re the absolute worst.
“Oh, by the way,” Jiro says, all fake casual with a small grin and a gleam in her eye as Denki looks at her, “you owe me money. I told you they’d start dating before we graduated. Make sure to fork it up.”
He groans again. See! The worst.
When the door closes with a distinctive click, Eijirou can’t help his answering flinch. Bakugou whirls around with a glare and crosses his arms.
“Alright, out with it, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” Eijirou answers immediately, but he can tell that his voice comes out all wrong. High pitched and anxious, like he’s trying to hide something and doing a bad job of it.
Bakugou quirks an unimpressed pale eyebrow and Eijirou sighs in defeat. He sits on Bakugou’s bed, ignoring the way the movement sparks a wave of the blond’s scent to waft around him. The sliding glass door is open in the misguided hope that some spare breeze might find its way inside. They’d agree to retreat downstairs in order to get away from the heat but now that’s been shot to hell, and Eijirou knows it’s his fault for acting so weird and getting everyone concerned.
“I just… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for them to find out that way.” He hangs his head, feeling forlorn. They’d finally started dating a month or so ago (he knows the exact date, actually, but that’s neither here nor there) and he hadn’t meant to mess it up so badly! Eijirou has been dreaming about dating Bakugou since first year, he doesn’t want things to end just because he totally fucked it all up and—
Warm, calloused hands wrap over his from where they're fisting the fabric of his gym shorts and his head shoots up. Bakugou is kneeling in front of him, a frown on his face but it looks more worried than annoyed.
“Baby,” he says and Eijirou can’t help the way he shivers at the pet name, “why are you sorry? I don’t understand.”
It ought to be sweet. Bakugou has mostly let Eijirou lead them, let him decide their limits, their dates, the whole nine yards. As a beta, Eijirou doesn't really pay attention to most of the alpha or omega stuff that everyone else has to deal with, but even he can tell that Bakugou stepping back to let Eijirou direct them is a big deal. It means he trusts him.
And here, now, Bakugou is asking because he doesn’t understand why Eijirou is upset, and he wants him to explain, but he can’t.
Tears well in his eyes, and his throat squeezes so tightly, he can’t manage to say anything, the only thing that manages to come out is a half sob.
Bakugou’s eyes widen and his hands clench tighter over Eijirou’s own. “Hey, whoa, what—”
“I don’t want to ruin things!” Eijirou cries out, a tear working its way down his cheek. He’s sure that his scent is going haywire with his fluctuating emotions.
A hand curls around the back of his neck and forces him to lean forward until their foreheads press together. Bakugou’s red eyes are intense, staring into his own. “Kirishima, you haven’t ruined anything. Everything’s fine. We’re good, aren’t we?” He waits a second and when Eijirou does nothing more than hiccup, trying to swallow back his tears, he growls, “So, we’re not good? You gotta talk to me.”
“No, no, we are!” Eijirou grabs onto Bakugou’s shirt when he withdraws a few inches, keeping him close. “I’m just upset! I didn’t mean to let everyone find out, I know you wanted to keep things a secret and—” A hand closes over his mouth, cutting off his sentence.
“What,” Bakugou’s voice is hard and furious, “do you mean I wanted to keep things a secret?”
Betas have an average sense of smell but Eijirou's is worse than most. Actually, it’s one of the things he likes so much about Bakugou’s scent—it’s easy to detect. Caramel and smoke. When Bakugou is pissed off, the smoke is stronger and when he’s content, it’s more caramelly.
In the mists of a battle, the two scents mix perfectly and Eijirou loves it.
Right now, smoke swirls around him and his stomach clamps unpleasantly. When Bakugou removes his hand slowly, Eijirou gapes at him.
“When did I give you that impression?” Bakugou asks when Eijirou says nothing. “Have I—fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking away. “Have I been such a shit alpha that I made you feel that way? That I, what, wanted to keep you hidden away?”
Abruptly, Bakugou rockets to his feet and starts pacing, muttering, and cursing under his breath, the palms of his hands sparking. Eijirou watches him, feeling a little like he’s having an out-of-body experience.
Finally, reality hits him and he stands, reaching for Bakugou and stilling him. “You haven’t,” he says firmly, grip tightening around Bakugou’s bicep, his tears all but forgotten. Kirishima clears his throat, swallowing past the scratchiness. “You’re not a shit alpha. Don’t say that.”
“Then why,” Bakugou hisses with barely concealed rage, “did you think that I wanted us to be a fucking secret?”
At that, Eijirou purses his lips. This will be hard to explain, he can already tell. Rarely are they out of sync but when it does happen the results can be disastrous, and he’s exceedingly aware of Bakugou’s short fuse.
Letting his hand loosen, he drags his fingers down Bakugou’s arm before coming to his hand and intertwining their fingers, intentionally letting the scent glands on their wrists rub together. He smiles at the way Bakugou’s posture relaxes, even if it’s just a little. Caramel starts to sneak in through the smoke and Eijirou knows they’ll work this out.
“You’re just… you’re really private, you know!” Eijirou starts, struggling to pick a good reason but it’s difficult from the way his thoughts are flying around, difficult to pin down. Bakugou looks back at him flatly and he tries again, “And you never said anything either…”
“We go out on dates,” Bakugou says, jaw clenching. He says it slowly as if punctuating the point, the way he does when Eijirou is being particularly slow in picking something up. “I let you hang off me like a dog when I don’t let anyone else do that.” He takes a deep breath, squeezing Eijirou’s hand. “I scent you to the point where no one else would even think to touch you. What about all that screamed, ‘I don’t want to tell people’?”
Eijirou starts to stutter, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Wait, you did the scenting on purpose? I’ve been told that people’s scent naturally rubs off on me.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it used to. Not anymore. I’m surprised the peanut gallery didn’t pick up on it sooner, since they’ve been scenting you less and less. Though maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Bunch of idiots, they probably didn’t even realize what they were doing, just instinctively backed away from what’s mine.” He scowls, glaring off into the distance. Eijirou has the feeling that the alphas in their group are going to get a firm talking too sometime after this conversation. He suppresses a smile at the thought.
“Yours?” Eijirou repeats, just to hear him say it again. Bakugou meets his eyes and Eijirou loves the way he practically melts, the scowl falling off his face to be replaced by a grin.
Maybe it’s not the type of grin that to most would scream ‘attractive’. It’s too predatory, with the gleam of a canine and danger sparking in those eyes.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Yeah, mine. You got it?” With the hand that isn’t still wrapped in Eijirou’s own, Bakugou reaches up and starts poking him aggressively on the forehead, making him pout. “We’re dating. I expected you to break it to the idiots so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. But if you need, I dunno, a big declaration, we can do that. If that would make you happy, or whatever.”
Eijirou’s smile widens, and he leans down to rub into the side of Bakugou’s neck, burying his nose into the scent gland there and inhaling happily, feeling the last of his lingering tension fade away.
“No, I think we kinda did that already,” Eijirou says, after the sweet smell of caramel has filled his nose, burning away everything else.
“Good,” Bakugou huffs, then falls silent. They stand there for a few long seconds before a hand wraps around the back of Eijirou’s neck again, rubbing slightly. Bakugou likes to grab him there, he’s just now realizing. Is that an alpha thing or a Bakugou thing? He’s not about to ruin the moment to ask, just files the question away for later. “Say,” his mate starts, —his mate, Eijirou’s mind screams because they definitely are now. Eijirou doesn’t know what he’s done to be so lucky and nab such a great alpha but he’s not letting go, not for anything— “do you think it’ll help to mark me?”
Eijirou jolts, the question surprising him enough to pull away. “M-mark? You? That’s for alphas and omegas though?” He’s thoroughly confused.
“Well yeah, I’m not an idiot,” Bakugou says, in a tone that screams he very much thinks that Eijirou is. “But for you, for your insecurities and stuff. Would that help you feel better about us?”
He opens his mouth automatically to defend himself. Yes, Eijirou has some hang-ups, most of which Bakugou is very familiar with but that doesn’t mean he has to put it like that. And stuff? Really? But then the actual meaning behind what Bakugou is offering hits him and he’s left breathless.
Uncharacteristically, Bakugou waits patiently for him to get his voice back, eyes never leaving Eijirou’s as he struggles to speak past some wheezing noises. This is important, this is everything.
Alphas rarely let their mates mark them back. Even a bonded alpha and omega rarely have matching marks; it’s a huge leap for alphas to ‘lower’ themselves to that degree. Not unheard of, but definitely unusual. And no one would expect Bakugou to be the one who would allow that, or to be the one to offer it in the first place.
“But it won’t take?” Eijirou finally says, stumbling over his words. “Nothing happens when a beta does it.” That’s common knowledge at least. Bakugo shrugs.
“So what? The point isn’t for anyone else, it’s for you, for us. I don’t want you to ever question where we stand again. We’re partners. I’m not settlin’ for anyone else, you’re the best and the only thing I want.” His eyes are blazing, truth laced through every word and Eijirou feels a little weak in the knees at the sheer force of it.
Distantly, he feels his phone vibrate against his thigh, and Eijirou swallows. “… Let me think about it?” he whispers. Bakugou frowns, just a little and he hastens to explain, “It’s not that I don’t like the idea! It’s… Bakugou, it means the world, truly. I just don’t know if I’m up for all the questions right now if we go downstairs and you're bleeding.”
Bakugou searches his face before he nods. Then his eyes go half-lidded as he smiles, shoving a thumb into Eijirou’s mouth and forcing it open. “Yeah, your teeth are gonna leave a hell of a bite mark, eh? It might even scar if you do it deep enough.” He runs the pad of his finger over the pointed ridges and Eijirou makes a noise, deep in his throat, that sounds so much like a whine it makes him feel embarrassed.
Nonplussed, Bakugou pulls away, wiping his wet finger on Eijirou’s shirt. “Offers open whenever,” he says gruffly. “Just let me know.”
“Sure,” Eijirou agrees weakly, before taking a step to the side and basically collapsing onto the bed on his back. He throws an arm over his forehead “I think I might die before I get there though.” Bakugou pushes at Eijirou’s body until he budges over a few inches, enough that Bakugou can take a seat on the edge of it.
“No, you won’t,” Bakugou denies as Eijirou pulls out his phone to check his messages. “You’re not allowed to go dyin’ on me.”
“That a fact?” Eijirou teases, and Bakugou shoots him one of those dangerous smirks, the kind that he falls in love with all over again, every time he sees it.
“Hell yeah it is, Red. You better not let me down.”
It’s a threat and a promise, all rolled into one. It’s unrealistic, they both know it, but then again, being heroes was never going to be easy. One day they might have to make the ultimate sacrifice, but Eijirou has to keep fighting, no matter what. They both do.
So that at the end of the day, when they come home to each other, they’ll know they never gave up on getting there.
“Hey, so Kaminari says they found someone willing to take us to the beach today and he wants to know if we want to go?” Eijirou asks and then laughs a bit as Bakugou’s face twists with displeasure. They both know he’s thinking about how much he hates sand. “I’ll rub sunscreen on your baaack.”
“Fuckin’ fine,” Bakugou says with an annoyed grunt, giving in much easier than Eijirou was expecting. “Bring your umbrella though, I don’t need to cook under the sun for hours and end up burnt to a crisp like some of those extras will be.”
Chuckling, Eijirou agrees.
The beach is nice. The heat is far less oppressive near the water than at the dorms, and after dunking himself in the ocean’s waves, Eijirou lets himself drip dry on the towel he set up under the wide, striped umbrella.
Bakugou disappeared shortly before he went into the water and he hasn’t seen the blond since he got out, but Eijirou isn’t worried about it.
Most likely his mate needs some time alone after confronting half the class when they came back downstairs, all dressed and ready to go to the beach.
“Oi,” Bakugou had said, pissed off and menacing, all the while holding Eijirou’s hand, “we’re fucking dating, we’ve been fucking dating, and we’ll keep on fucking dating. Don’t touch my mate, and also, fuck you all for not noticing.”
Jiro piped up pleasantly, “I knew.”
Bakugou pointed at her. “Glad there’s at least one of you with actual brains.”
As the others started complaining, he didn’t let go of Eijirou’s hand.
Even just remembering it, Eijirou feels giddy and embarrassed, burying his face into his knees, hoping the flush over his face can be blamed on the sun.
A weight drapes across his back, carrying with it the scent of burnt caramel and he smiles.
“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou greets.
“Hey babe,” Eijirou says back, sitting up straight as Bakugou’s arms position themselves over his shoulders, wrapping around his neck, his knees digging into the small of Eijirou’s back. “You’re being unusually cuddly today.”
Bakugou grunts. “Gotta make up for lost time, apparently.” He rubs his cheek onto the top of Eijirou’s head, his hair down for once, hair gel washed away by the force of the ocean waves.
“Mmm. You know, you don’t have to make up for anything? Sure, I misunderstood, but you don’t have to force yourself to prove yourself to anyone else. We’re good.” He leans back, letting Bakugou take on some of his weight so he can peer up at him.
“'Course we’re good,” Bakugou sneers at him. “And I know that! You just got me all…” He trails off, making a face. Eijirou feels a rush of fondness come over him and waits eagerly for the rest. Bakugou has started to blush, just a little, and it feels like a victory already because that usually means he’s about to be so incredibly cute.
Eijirou isn’t disappointed.
“Needy,” Bakugou finishes finally, looking like he’s swallowed a lemon at the words. “My alpha keeps wanting to reaffirm our bond or somethin’. Don’t do that,” he warns, tone threatening as Eijirou starts to swoon. “Don’t start making your googly fucking eyes at me and—god damnit, Shitty Hair!” Midway through his sentence Eijirou had turned around just enough to tackle Bakugou to the ground, missing their towel completely and sending them into the sand.
He can’t help but laugh, pinning Bakugou between his arms with a wide smile even as he glares back. “I can’t help it!” Eijirou announces, so incredibly happy he might just float away. “You’re my mate, and now everyone knows!”
“Not everyone,” Bakugou corrects and Eijirou cocks his head to the side. “But one day they will. We’re gonna announce it to the whole world. Gonna win all those stupid pro-hero couple awards or whatever the shit they call ‘em. Every single year. Promise me.”
Eijirou wraps his arms around Bakugou, ignoring his scream of rage as he spreads even more sand between them. “Bakugou!!! I’m so happy, I’m going to cry!” He ignores the punches that rain down upon his head. They're teasing, with no actual heat behind them and Eijirou doesn’t even have to harden to protect himself. “I promise! I promise! Every single year, babe.”
Bakugou huffs, but the punches stop. “Damn right,” he says stiffly.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Eijirou says seriously, leaning closer.
“About fucking time,” Bakugou grouses. “Been waitin’ for hours.” He tilts his chin up. “Kiss me, Eijirou.”
There’s something about this, Eijirou thinks to himself, that he should look at closer. Alphas shouldn’t be okay with anyone looming over them, not even their mate, and especially not one as strong as Eijirou. Bakugou shouldn’t be the one receiving the kiss, should be the one to flip their positions and take charge of the kiss himself.
Instead, Bakugou’s mouth opens up beautifully for him, and both of them sigh, melting into each other and Eijirou lets the half-formed thought go.
It doesn’t matter what most alphas do or don’t do, what’s expected, or any of it. Eijirou’s got the only alpha that will ever matter to him in his arms, the sound of their friend's laughter ringing in the distance, the salt breeze mixing in with too-sweet caramel.
And everything is perfect, just perfect.