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Chapter Text

A soft breeze swept through the broad streets of Musutafu as if to kiss the city goodnight as the sun sank into a temporary grave made of grey-green skyscraping apartment condos and glass-clad corporate buildings that reflected the sky’s intricate patterns in a mockery of their true beauty.

June was always a confusing time, not cold, not hot, too summery to be a part of spring and too spring-like to earn the title of summer month – but damn, those sunsets. It was as if the seasons took pity on their most average child and compensated by blessing it with their most vibrant colours – hues of yellow gold that faded over pinkish purples into clear cyan; a smooth gradient serving as a backdrop to elongated fiery-red and orange clouds that stretched across the horizon like claws. They encompassed all of it, all of the world, and it was so wonderfully easy to feel small beneath them and like nothing mattered. Nothing was anything in the face of the all, for the universe did not care for its creations. Hell, it let its stars explode for the sake of sparkly supernovas on the regular.

A nice sentiment, and terrifying all the same – depending on whether one choses to take on the perspective of a cynic or rather to indulge in the lovely absurdism of it all.

Even without this philosophical analysis, though, this Friday night was a good night. It was one of those that felt particularly weightless, void of the burden of adulthood and heroism and instead full of a hope that only dared to show itself at times where it was most unexpected; perhaps one wouldn’t even realise just how badly it was needed had it not appeared. It basked the air in crisp freshness, as if last night’s storm had carried countryside winds into town, and warmed the hearts of all those who subconsciously longed for a little something to hold onto. June was a time of change, a bridge between seasons, the connection between new beginnings and something that felt like taking a first step into a new adventure – unsure of what lies beyond but confident nonetheless that everything will turn out just fine.

Suffice to say, times like these make for killer game nights.

Kirishima appreciates the skyline for a second more before sighing contentedly, turning away from its vibrant visage and moving towards the small two-story apartment building to his left. It’s grown quite familiar to him by now, the rugged greyish walls and stained doors, a wooden flight of stairs that connects the upper units to the ground and, last but not least, the all-too familiar woman resting her well-toned arms on the stair’s railing and peering down at the red-head. Her mirthful eyes sparkle beautifully in the day’s dying light as they shift under the force of a teasing smile. “Finally,” her voice rings out, confident and from the chest, “I thought you’d just continue staring into the sky all evening.”

“Har har,” Kirishima mocks, rolling his eyes and traversing the small front yard – it’s hardly more than a patch of grass, truly – before beginning to ascend the stairs. “Would you have just stared at me staring at the sky until sunset?”

“You know what? Probably. The lighting makes you look good.”

“Well, thank you.”

Black-gold eyes blink up at red ones. “Always, hon.” Mina winks playfully before extending her arms and wrapping the red-head in a tight hug, slightly lifting her heels despite standing a step above him.

“I feel honoured.” Kirishima snakes his free arm, the one not currently holding onto two boxes of table-top games (Scrabble and a mystery carton he’d found in his parents’ attic), around the other Pro’s shoulders and squeezes for a second before letting go again, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He doesn’t get too many chances to see his favourite people as of late, so the man is constantly on a mission to express the affection and love he holds for them if the opportunity does arise. “Sorry I’m so late, I had to go home to shower before coming here.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw.” Mina snorts, eying her friend up and down. “I only caught the last bit of the news report, but the pictures were something, bro.”

“Don’t look at me like that!” The red-head huffs. “Coal quirk. Who even has a coal quirk?”

“Who has a coal quirk?”

Both Mina and Kirishima look up and towards a certain dark blond currently sticking his head out of Mina’s apartment unit. His hair, now a tad shorter than it had been during highschool and shaved on the sides, bops up and down with the movement.

“Some guy Kiribabe fought today.”

“Ohhh.” Kaminari nods in understanding, almost too serious for how minor the obstacle they’re talking about obviously proved to be. “Is that why you’re so late?”

“C’mon, bro, I tried my best to be on time!”

“Yeah, well, you failed,” the blond quips, and Kirishima has no time to respond before he’s already headed back inside. “Now come, dude and dudette, for I have brought cookies!”

Mina giggles. “He actually did,” he confirms. “Made them himself.”

The red-head looks at her, uncertainty written in his features. “Are we sure they’re edible?”

“Shinsou-kun supervised him, so…probably.”

“Given how he tried to poison me by feeding me foul fruit when I accidentally made Denki cry that one time during gym class, I’m not taking any chances.”

“Cool, more for us then. Now get your ass inside, before it actually gets dark.”

“Right away, ma’am.” Kirishima salutes and climbs the last three steps in one swoop. “You still owe me a round of Scrabble.”

Mina’s apartment was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, except maybe for the bold choices in decoration. Her landlord, an elderly man by the name of Ueda-san, hadn’t permitted her to paint the walls some vibrant colour, so she’d gone for maximalist statues instead, as well as furniture in several wild patterns and every variation of pink and purple out there. They adorned the halls and resided atop of shelves and drawers, spiting Ueda-san’s preference for traditional and minimalist architecture beautifully. There was a photo wall right by the entrance displaying cat-filtered group selfies and pictures of Mina and her friends, either under completely unhinged circumstances or during everyday life – there was no in between. It grew with every visit, and it was one of Kirishima’s favourite little details about Mina’s place.

He notes the new photo on the upper left-hand side, a polaroid-sized piece showing Mina and one of her agency’s receptionists throwing peace signs at the camera. The receptionist looks flustered, a blush high up on his cheeks, smile a little shaky, and Mina’s eyes rest more on him than the viewer as if she were sending encouraging vibes his way. It perfectly encompasses the effect the Ridley Hero has on other people, and it’s heart-warming to see.

“Whatcha looking at?”

Kirishima whips around, more surprised than startled at the voice he’s hearing, and grins. “Sero, dude! I thought you couldn’t make it!” The red-head embraces the dark-haired man in a quick bro hug, careful not to grip him too tight given the fractured collarbone he’d sustained during an out-of-town mission a few weeks prior. A healer at the next-best hospital had fixed him up for the most part, but Kirishima preferred to be safe rather than sorry.

“Yeah, well,” Sero shrugs, one-sided, and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a familiar crooked smile, “I managed to swap shifts with Kurosawa-san last minute. Life-saver, bro, I really needed this.”

“Oh, I bet. Work lately has been so not manly.” Kirishima shakes his head, readjusts his grip on the board games and begins making his way towards the main area, Sero close by his side. “There’s been an uptick in hate crimes and burglaries these last few months, I think.”

“Yup. It’s especially bad in my patrol area. Got a pretty high percentage of mutant quirks in the districts further south.”

“Heard as much. I got a couple downstairs in my building with the cutest little kid, and he’s got some sort of non-specific amphibian mutation. He’s a real sweet boy, but you can tell his parents are really wor-”

“Hey, nuh-uh!,” Mina’s voice suddenly chimes out. She’s sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, using the purple-red couch as a backrest rather than something to sit on and shuffles some Uno cards. “Please, let’s just play a bit before talking about all the sad stuff.”

She pouts to drive her point home, and Kirishima and Sero sigh in unison. “Hear, hear, the queen has spoken.”

Kaminari snorts. “Oh, she’s a queen alright.” He pats the pink-hair’s shoulder as he takes a seat next to her, placing a magenta plate piled with chocolate chip cookies onto the table. “A drama queen.”

Mina rolls her eyes. “Ha-ha, how funny, never heard that one before.”

“What, so when Bakubro does it, it’s funny, but when I do, it’s dumb?”

“Oh, I don’t laugh at Bakubabe’s jokes, hon. Have you seen his face, like, ever? Hilarious.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Come to think of it,” Kirishima interrupts, crossing the small distance between the hallway and living area and planting himself across from Kaminari, “Where is Katsuki? Didn’t he say he’d be here?”

“Nah, he cancelled just before you came, said he had stuff” – Mina draws exaggerated quotation marks into the air – “to take care of at home, whatever that means. Could’ve told me earlier though, I counted on him to bring some more food over.” She grabs a cookie off the plate, takes a bite and lights up in surprise because it does, in fact, taste good. “Holy smokes, Denki, these are better than anything you baked before.”

Sero snorts, “not a difficult feat,” but Kaminari does himself the favour of ignoring the black-haired man and bats his eyes dreamily at his pink-tinted friend instead. “Of course they are. I had Toshi help me make them.”

“I thought he just supervised?”

“Well, yeah, but still!”

Mina rolls her eyes dramatically. “Damn. You’re so in love you praise your boyfriend for something he didn’t even do.”

“He supervised!”

“You baked,” Sero argues, “you did the actual hard part.”

“Woah, hold on, dude, credit’s due where credit’s due,” Kirishima laments but can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face before the punchline. “Have you ever tried supervising Kami?”

“Oh, you-!” The dark blond playfully swats at the red-head from across the table as the round breaks out into easy chuckles. “I’m convinced you’re incapable of making jokes unless they are at my expense.”

“You’re just- you’re just that funny, bro,” Sero giggles, which prompts Kaminari to yell out, “you mean laughable?” and more laughter fill the room.

“No, but, for real, Denki,” Mina inhales after a while, shaking off the last of her chuckling and softening her smile, “you know we don’t actually think that about you, right?”

The blond’s wide grin melts a little, and his eyes glaze over with appreciation. The squad had learned mid-second year that it was hard sometimes for Kaminari to separate himself from the jokes that made him the punchline, and, unlike most of the other people in the young man’s life, they’d embarked on a life-long mission of making sure that Kaminari knew he was appreciated and that jokes involving him were only funny if he found them to be as well. It had brought the blond to tears, the first time one of them had checked in with him to see whether he was alright with what was being said about him, and though he’d grown mostly used to it by now, it was still nice to see that people cared like this.

He nods, eyes crinkling again. “Of course, dude. Thanks for asking.”

Mina returns the gesture and tilts her head to the side. “Anytime, hon. Now,” she claps her hands, startling the others out of the mellow atmosphere, “what are we playing?”

“You’ve already shuffled the Uno deck, so we might as well start with that.”

“Great thinking, Serobabe.” She pushes the cards towards the dark-haired man and quickly pushes to her feet. “You pass ‘em out, and I’ll go grab some beer from the fridge.”

“Heck yes.” Kaminari leans back and lets out a big sigh. “Man, I miss hanging out like this. It’s so hard to get everyone together nowadays.”

“Yeah, and when you finally do, suddenly one of them has private matters to attend and calls out.” Kirishima snorts. “What do you think Bakubro’s doing right now?”

“Tabloid interview?,” Sero suggests, and Mina, who shuffles back into the room with four cans of beer cradled in her arms like tiny aluminium babies, huffs a laugh. “I don’t think he’d ever voluntarily talk to anyone that’s been within a five mile radius of an editorial office.”

“True dat,” Kaminari nods, then, shrugging his shoulders and nodding very seriously, speculates, “maybe he’s on a date.”

For a second, silence overtakes the room, before a bout of laughter rings out, loud enough to make one of Mina’s neighbour’s bang his fist against the thin wall separating the two apartment units in warning.

“Yeah, right,” the pink-hair says, gasping for air in between her words, chest heaving. “Bakugou I-make-people-cry-by-looking-at-them Katsuki, on a date.”

“Could you imagine, him in a little dress shirt and tie, pulling out a chair for someone?” Sero clutches his stomach. “Oh my god, I can’t breathe.”

Kirishima shakes his head in jolly amusement, little puffs of air leaving his nose as he goes to grab a can from Mina. “Even if he asked his crush out, I don’t think he’d ever willingly wear a tie.”

Abruptly, all laughter stops. Three pairs of eyes zero in on the red-head, and the latter freezes, his beer-holding hand hovering above the coffee table as he feels the colour drain from his face.

Way to go.

----

Kirishima likes to imagine that, were he a character in some sort of animated series, they’d cut to a scene of tiny versions of the Pro Hero running through his aflame brain right about now, flipping tables and desperately throwing out suggestions on how to amend his slip of tongue and get the attention off of himself.

It’s a little hard to think, though, because Mina is all up in his face, sprawled across the coffee table and invading his personal space with a skill only at the disposal of true gossipmongers. At her sides, Kaminari and Sero are doing the same, and it’s not helping the red-head’s internal struggle at all.

Mina’s eyes flick across Kirishima’s features, calculating and somewhat terrifying, because Kirishima knows damn well she’s had the ability to read him like a fricking picture book since middle school. And that’s, well. Not so good.

“What did you mean by that?,” the pink-hair asks, demands, and Kirishima wheezes as if the simple question knocked the air out of him.

“By…what exactly?”

“You know exactly what, Eijirou.” Uh-oh.

The red-head chuckles weakly as he lifts his hands in what he hopes is a placating manner. “Ahaha, I was just making fun of Katsuki’s dating life! Y’know, how, even if he had a crush, he’d-”

“Nuh-uh,” Kaminari interrupts, pointing a finger at his friends accusingly. “You said, and I quote, Even if he asked his crush out. That implies the existence of a crush.”

Mina rips her eyes off of Kirishima for the fraction of a second to look at the blond. “Your interrogation skills always increase whenever you’re talking tea.”

“Aw, thanks!”

“Guys.”

“Right, sorry, Sero.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Mina blinks apologetically before turning back towards the red-head in front of her, making a shiver run down the man’s spine. “Now, tell us what you’re hiding.”

Kirishima presses his lips together. “I can’t,” he tries, but Sero grabs both of his shoulders and digs his fingers into his muscular upper arms, not enough to hurt but enough to let him know that this is serious.

“Dude, you don’t get it- this is huge. Bakubro’s interested in someone.”

“Eijirouuu,” Kaminari practically whines, bobbing up and down in his scrawled out position like a small child would, somewhere between exited and impatient. “I know you’re trying to be a good friend, but so are we! Please, how are we supposed to support Bakubro’s dating life if we don’t know anything about who he’s into?”

Mina nods. “Exactly, Eijirou.”

Her eyes are all sparkly, but not pretty sparkly like they were outside – rather, she looks like someone who’d be cast in a safari movie, not as an adventurer but a lion, or leopard, a predator. Mina is such a sweetheart most of the time, Kirishima oftentimes forgets, to his eternal demise, how downright threatening she can be when it comes to getting her mittens all over a piece of hot and steamy gossip. There’s absolutely no way of coming out of this alive.

Kirishima swallows heavily. Red eyes wander anxiously between yellow, gold and black. “If I say anything, I am obligated to tell you that Katsuki doesn’t care for any advice,” he says, slowly, and Mina grins.

----

Kirishima folds his hands in his lap, all nice and neat despite his nervousness. “So, we were standing across from each other, just talking, y’know-”

“Oh my god, bro, get to it.”

“I’m getting there! I just wanted to give some context!”

“Oi, stop dilly-dallying and spill.”

“Alright!” Kirishima salutes as if he’d just received instructions from a high-up general – really, is Mina any different? – and squares his shoulders. He’s still not entirely-without-a-doubt sure about this, to be honest; but then again, it is absolutely exhausting carrying this secret on his shoulders without having anyone to confide in. Plus, on a much less selfish note, Kirishima genuinely wants the best for Katsuki, and bottling his feelings up had never served the blond well. “We were in the kitchen, and he was kinda lost in thought, like he was reminiscing or something, but in a sad way.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I asked him if there was anything up cuz, you know, he’s been acting kind of weird since he started at Jeanist’s.”

“Oh, yeah, hard to miss. He thinks he’s really good at hiding it, but it’s so obvious.”

“Sero, shut up, please.”

“Pardon me, ma’am. Kiri, go on.”

“Thanks. So, he seemed kind of taken aback, right? Like he didn’t really expect me to notice or care or whatever.”

“Aw.”

“Yeah, kinda hurt, but it’s cool, it’s his life, y’know, and it’s his choice what he wants to share.”

Mina drummed her fingers against the glass table, nails clicking against it impatiently. “Eijirou, I love him as much as you do, but please, the goods.”

“I’m getting there!” Kirishima huffed. “Alright, so, I still wanted to figure out what was wrong and, like, started guessing what it might be, and one of those guesses was that he was crushing on someone. And I meant it as a joke, honestly, cuz, like, it’s Katsuki, and then he looked at me with this look and I just kinda knew that I hit the nail right on the head.”

Kaminari lets out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my god, this is better than soap operas, bro.”

Sero nods. “Bro, so much better.” They high-five.

“Shush! And then?”

“He tried to deny it at first, but, again, I just knew, so I asked about her; what she was like, if I knew her, etcetera, bla bla. And, uh, well.” The red-head lowers his hands, which he had been using to underline certain parts of his story with eloquent gestures and casts his eyes downwards. “He got pretty mad. But, like, calm mad. The kind where you know you actually fucked shit up, you know? Called me by my first name and everything.”

Mina whistles through her teeth, suddenly a tad calmer. “Damn. I’ve only heard him do that once, and that was when Ochako-chan accidentally ripped the cover of that weird notebook he loved so much.”

Kirishima nods mildly. “Yeah. He said that this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, and then I left. I tried apologizing a couple of days later but he just waved me off, said it wasn’t that big a deal.”

A bout of silence commences before Sero lets out a small, disbelieving and ever so slightly hysterical chuckle.

“Holy shit, man. This is so hard to wrap my head around. Bakubro could come up to me and tell me he became a father and I’d be less baffled than I am right now.” Kaminari shoots Sero a look, and the latter continues, “no, cuz, sex? Sure. Idiocy? Hard yes. But a relationship? Feelings? Unfathomable.”

Mina hums in agreement. “True. I wonder why he’s so uptight about the whole crush thing, though. Private person or not, we’re still his friends.”

“Maybe it’s new for him, too,” Kirishima muses. “I mean, maybe it’s his first crush? That’s bound to be difficult, or at the very least confusing.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Kaminari nods seriously. “Yuuei occupied our entire time from, like, ages fourteen to eighteen. Either you dated within the school, or your love life was non-existent.”

“So, it’s not someone from highschool?”

Sero shrugged. “I don’t think so. Kami’s right, Yuuei had us all in a vice grip.”

“So, it’s someone he met after school. Maybe another hero at his agency?”

“I doubt that. When I started dating Hitoshi in second year, Bakubro went off about how stupid it is to date another Pro.”

“Well, yeah, but love is blind, right? It’s like Mina always says-” The red-head swivels around to pointedly look at his friend, but stops dead in his tracks when he notices the deeply thoughtful expression she’s sporting – as if trying to solve a riddle, or crack a particularly difficult calculus question. “Woah. What’s got you thinking so hard, Mina?”

Her head lifts. “I’m just…thinking back to Yuuei.” Pink brows furrow, until the Pro’s forehead is split in two by a vertical wrinkle. “Didn’t he go home, like, every weekend and every single holiday?”

Kaminari huffs, “well, yeah. You know his parents can be,” he pauses and wrinkles his nose as he searches for a good word, “…overbearing.”

“Damn right they are. So, wouldn’t he have wanted to not see them? Aizawa-sensei never forced anyone to go home if they didn’t want to, and Bakubabe isn’t one to care about his parents’ opinion or wishes.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I’m saying,” Mina’s eyes widen comically, as if she just had the epiphany of a lifetime, “what if he didn’t leave to visit his parents? What if he was going back home to meet someone else?”

Sero narrows his eyes. “Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?”

“If you think that I’m suggesting that our lovely best friend has known his crush for longer than even us? Yes.”

“Holy shit!” Kaminari slaps his cheek in exasperation. “Do y’all think this is a childhood friends turned lovers kinda situation? That’d be…the most terrifying and adorable thing ever.”

“I know, right!” Mina waves her hands, “quick, does anyone remember anything about any girls Bakubabe may have mentioned?”

“I’m pretty sure he had a neighbour across the street that’s around his age.” Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. “I think. Saw her once when picking up a schoolbook I’d lent him.”

“That’d make sense- childhood friends are usually neighbours. Oh! And what about the one his mom talked about sometimes when we studied at his place? The, uh, what was her name-”

“Inko-chan?”, Kaminari suggests, and Sero snaps his fingers at him. “Yeah, that’s the one!”

“Nah,” Mina shakes her head, “She was just a family friend, Bakugou-san said so.”

“Well, that’s all I got. Kirishima?”

“Hm.” The red-head hums, fiddling with his fingers. “There was one thing.”

“We’re all ear, dude.”

Kirishima exhales through his nose, a bout of nervousness washing over him at the memories replaying in his head, hardly half a year old. “Alright. Do you remember that one evening at Yuuei, when Katsuki was taken in by the police for interrogation?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Sero shudders. “I feels so bad for this, but I seriously thought he was being arrested for being the traitor or something.”

“Yeah, well. He, uh- was. Sort of.”

“I- excuse me?”

“No, not like, actually” – Kirishima waves his hands around – “just, uh. I’d found this weird-looking notebook in his room when we were hanging out at his dorm and it was, like, full of information on a lot of people, stuff he wasn’t even supposed to know.”

“Woah, wait.” Mina looks between the red-head and the other two men, the latter of which look equally as bewildered as she does. “How come we were never told about that?”

“Aizawa wanted to avoid bringing too much attention to it. Katsuki was interviewed by Tsukauchi and passed with flying colours, so he’s definitely not the traitor or involved with villains. But he also didn’t write the notes- I know his handwriting, and that wasn’t it.”

Kaminari raises his brow. “Wait, notebook? Was it anything like the one Katsuki got mad at Uraraka for?”

“Um, actually, now that you mention it, yeah. It was…less neat than the one Ochako ripped, but I do think they were really similar.”

“So, what I’m getting from this”, Sero says, interlacing his fingers and placing his hands into his lap, “is, that our resident Pomeranian is somehow involved with someone who’s involved in…suspicious activity?”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, darling.” Mina leans forward conspiratorially, eyes downright gleaming. “He’s crushing on someone who’s involved with suspicious activity.”

“You’re saying that like it’s the plot of a new Bond movie.”

“Might as well be.” The Pro winks at her friends. “Let’s get this party started, my dudes.”

Chapter Text

“Are we sure this is the best course of action?”, Kirishima asks into the silence of the hallway, and Mina turns her head to look at him.

“Can you think of a better way to make him talk to us?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then there ya have it.”

Sero nods in agreement. “Out of all the things we’ve ever done to make him talk to us, ambushing him always worked best. And despite the tantrums he throws, he’s always been pretty grateful in the end.”

Kirishima forcefully exhales through his nose before taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself, because he knows that Sero is very much correct. They’d observed soon into their first year of Yuuei that Bakugou Katsuki had some…issues. Honestly, it was hard not to notice under how much abnormal aggression the blond seemed to function. When things got exceptionally bad that one time a few weeks after midterms, his friends bonded together to try and figure out how to help their explosive classmate – only for each of their attempts to miserably fail. It wasn’t until Kaminari, who’d been growing increasingly frustrated at their inability to support Katsuki, angrily stormed up to the blond one day and downright demanded he talk that Katsuki actually did; to both of their surprises. It was then they learned about how overbearing the blond’s parents could be – something they probably would have never known about otherwise.

Kirishima sighs. “Fine. But if this goes south, we won’t push him.”

Mina grins at him. “Scout’s honour!”, she quips, turns around and presses a neatly manicured finger to the doorbell of Katsuki’s apartment.

It rings for a second or two, and they wait.

Nothing happens. Sero looks over to Mina. “Are you sure he’s even home?”, he asks, and Mina nods.

“He should be. That’s what he said in his text, anyway.”

“Maybe it was just a figure of speech?”

“No, no.” The pink-hair grabs her phone from her pocket, poses for face ID and swiftly pulls up the messages between her and a contact labelled Bomb Squad’s Biggest Fear. “He said, and I quote, Can’t make it today. I got some shit to take care of over at my apartment.”

“Alright, that does seem pretty unambiguous.”

“True.” Sero scrunches his nose and goes to ring the doorbell once more. “So why isn’t he opening up?”

“Maybe he’s under the shower?”, Kaminari speculates.

Kirishima raises a hand. “Perhaps we should-”

Before he can end his sentence, Mina strides forward. “This is taking far too long,” she proclaims. “Scoot.” The woman pushes Kirishima, who is standing right in front of the door, aside and digs into her jean pocket, fumbling about for a second before pulling out a bunch of keys. They jingle happily as she flicks through them before settling on one, a goldish-grey thing with a square head. “There we go.”

The men share a look, before Kaminari dares to ask, “what’s…that?”

“A key to his apartment.”

“What?” Kirishima’s brows furrow, more in bewilderment than confusion. “Why do you have a key to Katsuki’s apartment?”

“I have keys to all of your places.”

Sero snorts. “Well, yeah, because we gave them to you for emergencies. No way in hell Bakubro would do that.”

“I know. That’s why I swiped it off of him during the little housewarming party we forced him to have.”

Kirishima is absolutely incredulous by now. “But…why?”, he asks, and Mina shrugs.

“Just in case.”

“What case?!”

“In case he got his stupid ass into a hospital and there was no one to get him his stuff.” She inserts the key into the lock of the off-white door with a little more force than necessary and turns it. The door springs open, and she slips inside the apartment. “Works for this too, tough.”

“This is like knowingly walking into a death trap,” Kaminari comments but nonetheless steps inside after his friend, with Sero following close behind. This leaves only Kirishima behind, standing indecisively out in the hallway.

He hesitates for a good second or two, then takes a step forward and pulls the door close behind him.

----

The apartment is exactly as the red-head remembers – that is to say, pretty plain. There are no photos adorning the walls, let alone posters or anything similar, but there’s still a lived in atmosphere draped over the place. It’s in the way the pillows on the couch are all flattened against the armrest, some dishes are resting in the drying rack, a couple of jackets are hanging from the wall hooks and a few pairs of shoes are placed neatly besides the door. There’s some new ones, Kirishima notes – fiery red fabric makes up the top, complete with black laces and chunky white soles. They must’ve been worn pretty frequently, judging by their slightly worn-down look, which is a little weird, because Kirishima swears he’s never seen them on Katsuki before. The red-head blinks. Oh, well – this should not be the main focus right now.

He looks up, towards Mina. “So, do you have a plan or something?”

His friend looks back at him, shrugs and grins. “Nope.” Then, she turns around, forms a cone with her hands, brings it to her mouth and yells, “Katsuki!”

The men flinch in unison, and Kaminari swats her arm. “Holy- are you crazy? He’s gonna kill you!”

“I’ll take the risk,” Mina says, completely serious, as the same expression she’d been wearing earlier while interrogating Kirishima resurfaces. “Katsuki!”, she shouts again, “come out, we need to talk to you!”

There’s no response.

“…Katsuki?”

Still, nothing.

Sero looks over towards the pink-hair. “I don’t hear any water running”, he says, and Mina listens, furrowing her brows when she comes to the same conclusion.

“That’s weird. He said he’d be home.”

“Maybe he lied to you?”

“Why would he do that?”

“He can be a bit of an asshat sometimes.”

“Yeah, an asshat. Not a liar.”

Kaminari purses his lips. “Alright, cool, so…maybe we should go?”

Mina ponders for a second. “Yeah, but…” She blindly reaches for the wall and holds onto it for stability as she skilfully toes off her shoes. “Let’s check the bedroom first.”

“Mina!” Kirishima huffs, slightly anxious. “I think that’s not such a good-” He stops to take his own sneakers off in order to follow behind the woman already making her way further down the apartment – “This is not very manly!”

His friend ignores him, venturing farther until she’s standing in front of Katsuki’s bedroom door. There, she stops for a second, turns around and looks right into Kirishima’s eyes. “Aren’t you curious, too?”, she asks, and Kirishima stares for a second before he lets out a big, big sigh.

“If he’s in there sleeping and we wake him up, we are all dead.”

“Or we find out all about his crush.”

“…you’re horrible.”

“I know,” Mina winks, and Kirishima doesn’t stop her as she raises her hand towards the door handle and pushes it down, but squares his shoulders for impact. “Oi, Kats-”

The words die in the pink-hair’s mouth when she pushes the door open, because standing there across from the bedroom, back turned towards the friends while rummaging through a shirt drawer is…someone.

Someone who is definitely not Katsuki.

Dark-green curls almost black at the roots, freckles splattered across every inch of skin exposed by his baggy white t-shirt, simple cargo shorts and white socks. A jagged scar runs across the expanse of the outer part of his right leg, and it’s such a distinctive look that Kirishima knows he would definitely recognize this person had he met them before – but he hasn’t. He does not know this man, and, judging from the look Mina gives him, neither does she.

Breaking himself out of his stupor with a quick shake of his head, Kirishima takes a step forward, instinctively moving in front of the pink-hair. “Who are you?”, he asks, hero persona taking over. The skin on the back of his hands hardens slightly.

He receives no response. The man continues rifling through the drawer, picks up an item of clothing and seems to look it over before tossing it aside and digging further. The noise must’ve alerted Sero and Kaminari as well, because they peak around the corner, heads stacked on top of each other, and frown. “Everything alright in there?”, Kaminari asks, and Mina quickly turns around, throwing them a shrug before addressing the stranger, “hey, you.”

No answer. Kirishima tries again, “turn around so we can see you. We don’t mean any harm, we just want to know who you are.”

He waits, but the guy doesn’t even look at him. Instead, he holds up a washed out grey t-shirt, throws it over his shoulder and goes back into the drawer to rearrange the tops into their former order. It’s…odd. Odd, but nothing that a Pro Hero can be too deterred by.

Kirishima doesn’t hesitate before crossing the short distance between the doorframe and wardrobe and grabbing the greenet by his upper arm in an attempt to gain the latter’s attention. The man’s shoulders draw up almost instantly, but he relaxes again and slowly turns around, almost as if he expected the touch. There’s a smile on his face, Kirishima notes, but he barely gets to admire it, because the second the man meets the Pro’s face, he startles.

Well, startling is putting it mildly. The greenet flinches backwards so violently he slams against the still open drawer, falling further back with it as it shuts under his weight; this in turn makes him lose his balance and stumble to the side, trying and failing to find purchase on the edge of the clothing cabinet until ultimately landing square on his butt on the soft parquet lining that makes up the bedroom floor.

It’s a scene so straight out of a comic that Kirishima, for a second, really doesn’t know what to do. He watches as the greenet slowly lifts a hand – he’s trembling ever so slightly – and cards it through the mess of curls making up his bangs before resting it there and taking a slow, wobbly inhale.

“Ouch.” His voice is startlingly soft, breathy. “That hurt,” he says, and Kirishima’s feels such an intense wave of guilt wash over him at the words, he wonders if the guy’s quirk has something to do with twisting emotions. It’s a possibility – maybe he thinks he can easily make it out of here. Kirishima looks back at Mina, who is still standing in the entryway. Her hands are raised slightly, her stance is wide; she’s ready for combat, should the need arise. Her dark eyes meet Kirishima’s, and she shrugs at the uncertain look he gives her before her glance falls back towards the man sitting on the floor. He is still holding his head, face towards the ground and knees slightly bent. From here, he seems to be around the age of the Pros, maybe a little younger. He’s pretty skinny, not very tall and a little pale. Mina knows that it’s never good to make assumptions based on someone’s looks, but the guy doesn’t seem like a villain at all – more like a young adult who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s probably against her better judgement, but she slowly takes a careful few steps towards the greenet and leans down.

“Sorry,” she says, “we didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”

The man groans a little, but finally looks up – first straight ahead, then at Mina. She sucks in a breath upon seeing his face, and she can hear Kirishima doing the same.

There’s a prominent bruise forming across the left side of the stranger’s face, a cut adorning his cheekbone. His nose must’ve been bleeding too, judging by the tiny crusted remains on his upper lip and the blobs of red dotting the light fabric of his shirt. Nevertheless, the greenet cracks a small smile as his eyes meet Mina’s. They’re unnervingly green beneath the slight swelling of his eye, as if someone had cut down all of the pine trees this world had to offer and concentrated their chlorophyll to dye these two very irises. His voice is still soft when he speaks again, but not as breathless as before.

“Uh. Hi?” His uncertainty is evident. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. I-I promise I’m not an intruder or anything-” He flails his hands to underline the statement, “I’m supposed to be here.”

Kirishima furrows his brows. “You are? How do you know Katsuki?”, he asks, but the guy ignores him. His eyes stay resting on Mina’s face, analysing it, and the pink-hair moves back a little on instinct.

“My colleague asked you a question.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “Sorry?”

“My colleague”, she starts again, enunciating her words more clearly, but before she can finish, the greenet lets out an awkward laugh.

“Ah, sorry,” he says, apologizing yet again. He draws his knees closer to his chest and hugs an arm around them, almost as if to shield himself. “I…I can’t hear you?” His free hand points to his ear, making a little motion. “I’m, uh, deaf.”

“Oh.” Mina nods at that – because it does make a lot of sense, given the way he doesn’t respond when being talked to. “Hold on.” She gives him a curt smile before turning around and heading towards her other two friends that are still watching from around the corner. “Kami?”

The blond perks up. “On it!”, he exclaims.

And just as he’s about to take a step forwards, the apartment door flies open with an audible bang.

----

Kirishima likes to think that he’s grown quite familiar with Bakugou Katsuki’s anger. The blond’s rage had followed him ever since they first met during their first day of school and continued to do so even after they became friends, became best friends and eventually colleagues patrolling in the same district – albeit under different agencies. Katsuki wears his hot-headedness with pride, sees it as a virtue, even; the constant state of brooding keeps his adrenaline pumping and his hands sweating. The blond is the only person Kirishima knows that has somehow managed to transform such an inherently shitty emotion into fuel for something this beneficial – something that, quite literally, helps to save lives. It’s because of this that Kirishima has never been afraid of Katsuki’s anger. He understands why Katsuki functions the way he does, why he acts the way he acts and says the things he says, and knows that there’s no reason to fear the blond for a personality largely out of his control.

There had been a few times during which Kirishima preferred to stay out of Katsuki’s way, though. During their third year at Yuuei, particularly towards graduation, the blond’s parents had become even more difficult than they already had been, and Kirishima could remember overhearing a few phone calls between them. Well, not overhearing, really – Katsuki’s voice had been loud enough to echo down to the dorm kitchen, full of profanity and a raw simultaneously young and world-weary rage that had even Tokoyami quivering in his leather-studded boots and Iida refrain entirely from reprimanding him. The whole class would opt to avoid Katsuki for at least until the next day. Anyone who got into his hair before then was in for a verbal and sometimes mildly physical beat-down that had the ability to put a small child into a coma just from the facial expressions alone. Monoma once had had the misfortune of trying to pick on the blond on one of his off days, and the former kept a fifteen foot safety distance from him at all times for a couple of weeks after the fact.

In conclusion, basically, Katsuki’s regular anger is nothing to be scared of, and most of the anger that passes that threshold should be kept away from but is not dangerous, per se.

That being said- when Kirishima says that Katsuki looks like he is about to kill him, he absolutely does mean that Katsuki looks like he is about to kill him.

The blond is standing in his bedroom, the cap and mask he usually wears when going out in public still on, a plastic bag in his left hand and his keys still jingling in the other. He didn’t put them down by the front door, that’s how much of a hurry he’d been in, apparently. His chest is heaving a bit and sweat clings to his arms and forehead as if he’d been running.

Kirishima is hit with the instinct to run, comparable in intensity to when he first faced real-life villains during his school days, when gleaming ruby eyes find his. The red-head’s breath hitches and he desperately tries to signal for his friends to help with a pointed look, but they just stare back knowing that there is nothing they can do.

Katsuki’s voice is completely calm when he talks. It cuts through the air like a dagger drenched in liquid fire, “what did you do to him?”

It barely sounds like a question at all, more like a threat that’s already far too close to being put to execution, so Kirishima immediately starts waving his hands around in a placating manner because he really isn’t supposed to be here at all, but the shirt-stealing stranger is, and he is currently at the red-head’s feet, fresh bruise blossoming on his cheek and blood crusting up his shirt. “I-It’s not what it looks like!”, he hurries to exclaim, “I- we thought he was an intruder, and acci-accidentally scared him and he fell-”

“Yeah!”, Sero pipes up from behind Mina, “this is all a misunderstanding!”

Katsuki whips around to him, and the black-hair immediately shrinks back under the intensity of his gaze. “A misunderstanding? Caused by you breaking into my house?”

“Well, when you say it like that-” Kaminari tries his best to chuckle, but it comes out more like a breathless wheeze when Katsuki takes a singular step towards him, fingers tightening around his keys. His hand twitches, and Kirishima instinctively shuts his eyes so as to not have to see his friend get bludgeoned to death.

He waits, but the strike never comes. Instead, a calm voice pipes up from below. “Katsuki,” the greenet says, and Kirishima cracks an eye back open to look at him. His gaze is fixed onto the back of Katsuki’s head, unwieldy. “I’m okay. They didn’t do anything to me.”

Time seems to stop for a few moments after that. Kirishima takes a staggering inhale when Katsuki’s fists first tighten, and then mercifully relax as the blond turns around to face the greenet. Their eyes meet, and their irises clash – it’s like watching a battle for dominance between complimentary colours – but the stranger stays undeterred by the blond’s menacing expression. “I’m okay,” he repeats.

And Katsuki…Katsuki lets out a forced breath through his nose, clicks his tongue in evident disapproval but nonetheless tosses his keys onto the bed. They jingle lightly when they hit the mattress as the blond crosses the small distance between himself and the greenet. He stops, looks down at the man and chidingly growls, “you better have a good reason to be up, you moron”, all the while making gestures with his hands that must be some sort of sign language, because the greenet sheepishly averts his gaze now. “I told you to stay put.”

“I was just going to get a clean shirt,” the stranger says, gesturing down himself. “I felt icky.”

Katsuki lets out a heavy sigh and crouches down next to the man, placing his bag onto the floor as he does. The greenet looks back up at him, a small, sorry smile adorning his youthful face as Katsuki begins signing and speaking again. “I was out for fifteen minutes.”

“…sorry.”

They stare some more, and Katsuki lifts a hand as if to flick the greenet’s forehead, before deciding better of it and jabbing his hand into the man’s side instead, making the latter squeal. “Ey!”

“That’s what you get.” The blond’s mouth twitches. “Now, up.” He pointedly holds out an arm, and the greenet gratefully wraps his own ones around it. The way Katsuki almost effortlessly pulls him back to his feet looks really fucking manly, but Kirishima fails to comment on it because his mouth is still slack from watching the scene before him unfold.

Katsuki’s anger had practically evaporated the second the stranger had spoken up - and then he’d gone to make sure the man was okay. Just who was this guy?

“Eijirou.” Kirishima’s head whips up so fast, he swears he feels his neck crack. Katsuki looks at him, then nods towards the bag still lying on the floor. “Take that to the living room.”

“Uh.” The red-head’s eyes swivel towards the ground. “Yes!”

“Good. And all of you,” the blond says, now addressing the rest of his friends still standing frozen in the hallway, “are going to explain nice and easy what the fuck you are doing in my apartment once I’m done with him.”

----

Kirishima watches in equal parts bewilderment and fascination as Katsuki carefully cleans the cut on the stranger’s face with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol and applies two small butterfly bandages over it, the latter of which he’d pulled out of the shopping bag. The two men are sitting across from each other on the couch, Katsuki’s legs crossed and the greenet’s tucked under himself – neither of them seem tense or uncomfortable, like this is something they’re used to. Like they’re used to being this close together.

It’s…off. Kirishima can’t help but feel like there’s more to this situation than there seems to be from his standpoint, but he cannot pinpoint it for the life of him.

He eyes the greenet’s face as Katsuki lowers his hands, grunting a small, “done.” Dark lashes flutter as he blinks and tilts his head, which he’d bent to the side to give the blond better access to his wound, back into a proper position. The red metal of his hearing aids, which he’d grabbed from the bathroom on their way over here and placed in his ears, catches the floor lamp’s yellowish light and gleams. It reminds Kirishima of his best friend’s eyes. The greenet smiles. “Thank you!” He sounds so cheery, and although it’s refreshing, it feels kind of inappropriate given the overall tense mood of the room right now. Katsuki doesn’t seem perturbed by it, though. He offers the man a fond eye roll and a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a kitchen towel, which the former gladly places onto his bruise. “Clumsy ass.”

It’s like they’re in a whole different dimension.

Kirishima has no time to dwell on that though, because Katsuki lowers his gaze from the man in front of him and directs his attention towards his friends instead. They’re all sitting on the ground behind the blond’s cozy, wooden coffee table, shoulder to shoulder, slightly trembling still. Katsuki’s voice is level when he talks, but not bloodthirsty-calm anymore. “Now,” he says, and Kirishima hears Kaminari gulp, “explain.”

Mina clears her throat. “Well, you see-”

“And don’t try and tell me you were here for a good reason. I know damn well you weren’t.”

“What? I’d never do that!”, Mina exclaims, but Katsuki just raises an eyebrow and she retreats. “Yes, sir.”

“In our defence, we had an important reason for coming here, at least,” Sero laments.

“Which would be?”

“You see, Kirishima here-”

The red-head whips his head around. “Oi! Don’t throw me under the bus! It was Mina’s idea to come here!”

“Hey!” Mina swats his arm. “Don’t blame me. All of you were curious, too!”

Katsuki’s brows furrow. “Curious about what?”

“Well-”

“You see-”

“It’s-”

“We were doing game night over at Mina’s place and when she said you wouldn’t be there we speculated about why which lead to Kirishima letting it slip that you have a crush and since that was, like, a huge revelation we decided to ambush you like we usually do during times like these so you’d tell us more about your situation so we could support you, cuz, like, that’s what bros do. So we drove up to your apartment and broke in via a key Mina swiped from you during your housewarming party and noticed you weren’t there, at which point most of us opted to just leave, but Mina decided to venture further and check the bedroom, which is where we found your green friend over there and accidentally scared him into falling to his butt, and then you came in and found us and now we’re here.”

All eyes rest on Kaminari.

Katsuki takes a deep breath and exhales.

“What the fuck is wrong with you all?”

Kirishima winces. “I’m really sorry, bro, I know that it was super unmanly of me! I didn’t mean for it to escalate like this, honest…but then again, I know you wouldn’t have come to us for support on your own accord.”

“Oh my fucking-” The blonds drags his hand down his face. “I already told you that I do not have a fucking crush.”

“Bro, I’m sorry, but I’ve known you for a long time now and I know a lie when I see one.”

“I’m not fucking-”

The blond stops mid-sentence when a scarred hand suddenly wraps around his wrist. The four friends watch as he huffs and snaps his eyes towards the greenet, who quickly drops his ice pack into his lap and signs something, fast and precise. Kirishima recognizes one of the signs, to tell, back from when Aizawa-sensei had taught them JSL basics during a substitutional period, but that’s all he’s got. The red-head looks towards Kaminari, who’s staring straight ahead at the men sitting on the couch, eyes practically bulging out of his head. Kirishima’s brows furrow.

“Kami-?”, he starts, but before he can even begin to form a whole question, the dark blond leans forward and exclaims, utter disbelief and bewilderment drenching his shrill voice,

“you’re dating?!”

Chapter Text

Kirishima’s eyes flick between Kaminari and Katsuki, back to the dark blond and over to his best friend. His world feels like it’s tilting a little, or a lot, because whatever it is that’s going on here had not been anything he’d ever expected to see happen. He stares at the hand that is still clinging to Katsuki’s wrist, notes the way the blond makes no effort at all to brush it off or slap it away as he does with everyone else’s touches, and Kirishima knows – it’s like sliding the final piece into a puzzle, or gaining a piece of information that finally leads to the solving of a particularly difficult riddle. He knows that he had, in fact, been wrong about the whole crush thing; Katsuki was in a full-blown relationship with this strange man sitting next to him. Just an hour or so ago, the red-head and his friends had laughed their asses off thinking about the blond pursuing someone in a romantic fashion, and now here they were, witness to what had been deemed unthinkable by the court of the Bakusquad.

The green-haired stranger – Bakugou Katsuki’s lover – stares at Kaminari, shell-shocked, and Katsuki does the same. “When the fuck did you learn JSL?”, he asks, breaking the spell of silence draped over the room, and Kaminari huffs in disbelief.

“My future father-in-law is literally deaf, and my boyfriend-,” he starts, then shakes his head vehemently, “that’s really not the point right now!”

“Uh, yeah, I agree!” Mina slaps her flat hand onto the table. “You’re dating? A man?”

Katsuki sneers at her. “What, got a problem with that?”

“You know damn well that none of us do.” The pink-hair eyes him up and down, searching for some sort of answer in the blond’s body language but finding none, therefore continuing, “how long has this been going on?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, you-”

“Kacchan.”

The strange word, presumably a nickname, cuts through their dispute like a sparkling dagger, and the four friends watch intently as the greenet loosens the scarred fingers he’d wrapped around the blond’s wrist and slides them down his arm until their hands touch, intertwines them and squeezes gently. Katsuki hesitates for a second before he looks over towards him. The blond’s features immediately soften as emerald eyes collide with his, and he sighs heavily. They exchange a long, drawn-out look that has the friends on the edge of their seats. Kirishima hears Sero draw in an audible breath when Katsuki turns back towards them after a moment.

“…seven months.” His eyes are cast somewhere on the coffee table as he speaks. His hand tightens around the one he’s holding. “Well, eight in a few days.”

Another stretch of silence. This time, it’s Sero who breaks it.

“That’s a long time.”

Mina nods in agreement. “It is.”

“Yup.” Kaminari pops the p.

“How come you didn’t tell us?”

Kirishima isn’t sure why he asks, because he already knows the answer – knows that Katsuki is a private person, someone who most definitely prefers to keep other people out of his business, even his closest friends. It’s a safety mechanism he began utilising when he was a child, a habit he doesn’t seem all that willing to break, and Kirishima, or all of the blond’s friends and acquaintances for that matter, respect it for what it is; fundamentally Bakugou Katsuki.

Still, it’s exhausting in certain instances. Kirishima knows he doesn’t really have the right to feel this way, but sometimes, the blond’s privacy hurts.

The red-head watches as Katsuki’s eyes go unfocused for a second, watches as the greenet – who still doesn’t even have a name in all of this – gently strokes the back of his hand with his thumb and leans towards him a bit, a look on his face that can only be described as unconditional adoration. Kirishima has seen it before in rom-coms, or when getting coffee in cute cafés and even during fan events, but never this intense; never this honest and raw. “You don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to.”

Katsuki stares for a little longer, and Kirishima almost thinks he’ll just keep looking straight ahead until they all leave him alone – but then the man opens his mouth, closes it again, turns so that he’s directly facing Kirishima and speaks.

“I was, am, fucking worried shitless about what you’ll think of us. We only established, like, a few weeks ago that we both even are cool with telling people we’re together, and I wanted you all to be the first to know. I was going to do it today at Mina’s, but then Izuku got hurt.”

And that, well. That’s not what any of his friends expected to hear, at all – because it’s the very honest, very simple and plain truth, and perhaps the most upfront the blond has ever been with any of them about anything. Kirishima, who's still looking his best friend right in the eyes, can’t seem to find any, let alone the right words to say in response to that, so he’s glad when Katsuki continues speaking.

“Listen up, motherfuckers, because I am not going to be repeating this.” The blond lifts his chin up, a bit tauntingly, but he’s shaking. “This,” he raises his and the greenet’s intertwined hands demonstratively, “is my fucking boyfriend, Midoriya Izuku. I love him more than life itself and will not refrain from blowing you into bite-sized pieces and feeding you to pigs if you dare insult, degrade or, god help you, harm him.”

Well, damn.

Kirishima continues to stare, then turns towards his friends who look back with the same bewildered look on their face.

“You…you all just witnessed that too, right?”, Kaminari asks carefully after a second has passed, and Sero nods.

“I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.”

Mina wheezes. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Take me with you, please.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue, knee bouncing up and down slightly. “Stop acting like I just told you I became a father or something.”

Sero groans in exasperation. “I literally said earlier I’d be less surprised if you’d told us that.”

Mina cups her face with her hands. “It’s a lot to take in, babe.” She blinks, and swivels over to Midoriya. “Sorry, I call everyone that. Can I call him that?”

The greenet giggles, a sound like bells, and nods. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”

Katsuki snarls. “It bothers me.”

“No one asked you, babe.”

The blond throws her an aggravated look, but before the situation can derail as it so often does when Mina and Katsuki go head to head, Kirishima throws up his hands and claps them together loudly, gaining the attention of everyone around him. “Can we please stay on track?”, he asks, and when the others say nothing, “thank you. Now,” he turns towards Katsuki, who looks back expectantly. “Before all hell breaks loose with us questioning how you two met and whatnot, I think I speak for all of us when I say that I’m really glad you told us about Midoriya-kun. I know it couldn’t have been easy, and I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t trust us, but we are all extremely happy that you found someone you love.”

From beside him, Sero hums in agreement. “Hell yeah. Couldn’t have said it better, we’re really happy for you, bro.”

“Yeah! I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, but you two are adorable together!” Kaminari chuckles when Midoriya blushes at that, and Mina joins in. “Oh, definitely. We’re happy for you, Blasty.”

“I told you to not fucking call me that-”

And just like that, the sentimental bubble bursts again. The corner of Katsuki’s mouth twitches though, and Kirishima can’t help but grin. The situation is still weird, not at all how he imagined to spend his Friday night, but it’s something uniquely them. “Alright, so, out with it. How’d you two meet?”

“Oh!” Midoriya’s face lights up at the question and he scoots forwards a bit. The improvised ice pack still melting in his lap almost slips off of him and onto the ground, but Katsuki catches it before it can and wraps an arm around the greenet’s shoulder to keep it in place. Midoriya places a hand over his. “Our parents actually befriended each other when we were infants, so since then, basically.”

“Oh my god,” Kaminari clutches his chest, “that’s so cute.”

“You’re not getting any baby photos.” Katsuki sends the dark blond a pointed look, and the latter pouts. Mina shoves him lightly by the shoulder.

“My turn! Midobabe, do you work in heroics, too?”

“Oi, quit the nicknaming, raccoon eyes.”

Midoriya laughs at his boyfriend. “It’s fine, Kacchan!” Addressing Mina, he adds, “feel free to call me whatever you like. And no, I don’t really work in heroics.”

“Not really?”

“Well,” the greenet shrugs his shoulders and wiggles his scarred leg around a bit, “I’d be more of a liability on the field than an asset. I’ve worked with heroes before, though.”

“Oh, I see.” The pink-haired woman shrinks back a bit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“It’s quite alright!” Midoriya gives her a kind smile. “It’s not like you were rude about it or anything.”

“So,” Sero inquires, “what is it you do?”

“Ah, I’m just in college at the moment. I mainly study quirks.”

“Oi.” Katsuki give his partner a pointed look and pinches his uninjured cheek. “Quit selling yourself short.”

“Ow! Just because I don’t brag all the time doesn’t mean I’m selling myself short!”

Kirishima barks out a laugh at the subtle insult. This guy’s got some spunk.

“You’re in school for Advanced Quirk Studies. You got every right to brag.”

Kaminari trades a look with the others and whistles through his teeth. “Damn. Isn’t that course, like, super hard to get into?”

“Damn straight it is, Dunce Face. And Izuku here got in with a recommendation and a personal scholarship curtesy of the rat.”

“You mean Principal Nezu?”

“Precisely, bitches.”

“Kacchannn,” Midoriya whines and pulls at the blond’s hand. “Quit that.”

“Nah, they gotta see how damn impressive you are.”

Mina laughs heartily at the way the greenet groans in embarrassment, his ears burning. “You really are!”

Sero nods along. “If you managed to make Nezu believe you’re worth his time and money, you gotta be quite something.”

“You really are super manly.” Kirishima grins. “So, what kinda stuff do you study, then?”

Midoriya’s eyes sparkle like a kid’s in a candy shop at that question. “Ah, well, it’s a mix of different things. I do research on the genealogical makeup of quirks and the way certain types of powers affect certain parts of the body differently, but for the most part, I do analysis.”

Kirishima eyes him questioningly. “Analysis?”

“Yes! I observe a quirk’s workings during different scenarios and deduct their inner functioning and the like by what I can see. It gives me a pretty thorough understanding of the way a power works, both when lying dormant and when in action, and provides me with general knowledge of possibilities for improvement and certain weak spots.”

“That’s…damn.” Sero blinks a few times, then looks over at Katsuki. “You really found yourself a genius, didn’t you?”

Midoriya vehemently shakes his head at that, but Katsuki responds with a barked damn straight that has his friends laughing.

Kirishima can’t help but stare a little, though. In his head, something clicks into place, and he leans forward, this time without an uptick of his lips, to ask, “so it was you, then? The notebooks?”

Midoriya tilts his head at that. It’s endearing. “Sorry?”

“Oh, right! Apparently, Bakubabe was taken in for questioning one time because they found a suspicious notebook in his room,” Mina explains. Her golden eyes sparkle curiously when Midoriya huffs a laugh at that. His eyes land on his boyfriend, who looks back at him with a bit of an annoyed but nonetheless fond pout.

“Yeah, that would’ve been me. Katsuki borrowed it for an assignment, and I hadn’t thought my theories were anything more than, well, theories, so you can imagine my surprise when I had a detective and underground Pro knocking at my door that night.”

“I don’t even want to think of that day.” Kirishima shudders at the memory. “But, damn. What I read in there was really something.”

Midoriya sends him an apologetic look. “Ah, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m just very glad to know that you’re using your powers for good.”

Sero and Kaminari nod in agreement at that. “Yeah, dude. I think we would totally be toast if you’d wound up working for the LoV.”

“Damn straight you’d be.” Katsuki gives them a menacing grin, and Kirishima can’t help but think that, had Midoriya become a villain, the blond would’ve most definitely followed him down that road as well. And hell if that isn’t scary to think about, so the red-head quickly shakes the thought off and focuses on Mina, who is now resting her chin on intertwined fingers, eyeing the greenet up and down.

“So, is that part of your quirk then?”, she asks, and Midoriya’s face falls a bit, but he doesn’t stop smiling. The way Katsuki’s jaw clenches lets her know, though, that the question might have struck something she didn’t intend to. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, no, it’s alright!”, Midoriya reassures her. “It’s just…I don’t have one.”

At that, the pink-hair’s brows furrow. “…you don’t have one?”

“I don’t.”

“Like, no powers at all?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what the definition of quirkless is, yes.”

And just like that, the heavy air is back in the building. Kirishima watches as Mina, who normally has a comeback for every sort of interaction be it positive or negative, sits back in her seat on the floor and snaps her mouth shut. Katsuki’s face hardens a bit. “Quit looking like he just told you he’s terminally sick or some shit.”

Even with that, it takes a good few seconds before any of the friends find the courage to speak again. “Sorry for being weird about it, dude.” Kaminari shrugs, uncertainty colouring his features. “It’s just not something you hear every day.”

“Neither is me telling you I got a damn boyfriend, and you swallowed that just fine.”

“Kacchan…”, Midoriya says, and like before, the blond falls back a little. “It’s okay. No one really knows how to take in that sort of information nowadays.”

Katsuki scoffs. He’s about to retort something, but before he can, Sero pipes up and asks, “is that why you didn’t tell us?”

Kirishima’s eyes fly towards his black-haired friend. His dark eyes are looking straight ahead at the couple before him, and Katsuki blinks at the question a few times before answering.

“Yeah. Big part of it, at least.” His red eyes travel back towards his boyfriend, who doesn’t meet his gaze. Midoriya does lean in a bit closer to him though, reminiscent of a child searching protection. “I know you morons are not the kinds of people to go against someone for shit they can’t control, but the risk is still there. The Quirkless experience shitloads of discrimination and are in constant danger of being put in harm’s way, both mentally and physically.”

There’s an underlying tone in his voice, Kirishima notes, that implies experience. He’s no doubt that Katsuki has born witness a lot of times to the things Midoriya must’ve been subjected to as a small child and teen, unable to fight back in a world rigged against him in every way possible. The red-head can’t help but stare at greenet’s swollen face, the cut on his cheek and the stains on the shirt he still hasn’t had the opportunity to change out of. It makes him wonder if, “is that what happened to your face?”

As soon as the question’s out, Kirishima bites his tongue – it’s insensitive, rude; but Midoriya just looks at him a little irritated before barking out a surprised laugh that has everyone looking at him in confusion.

“Ah, no,” he explains, chuckles immediately illuminating the atmosphere like a single firefly in a cave, “I slipped on a bit of soap on my way to the shower.”

----

Night falls over the city like a comforting blanket by the time Katsuki shuts the door behind his friends, small click resonating in the now empty hallway. The blond has to fight the urge to sink against the wall once all of them are out of the apartment; he feels heavy as lead, like his pockets have been filled to the brim with wet sand and rocks – but not in a negative way. It’s the sort of exhaustion that creeps up into one’s bones after getting something particularly important off of one’s chest.

And today had been exhausting alright; starting off strong with the fucking heart attack he sustained when Izuku damn near split his head open on the bathroom sink today, and then another one about twenty minutes later when he returned to the apartment from the pharmacy around the block only to find his friends standing around his lover as if he were a demon they’d just accidentally conjured. He’d be surprised had he not known these morons and their insatiable appetite for, as Mina would refer to it, Tea, for far too many months and years now. He loves them, truly (though he’d never admit to that, of course), but they do tend to…overstep, sometimes. And yet, even though Katsuki deems that to be one of their more aggravating qualities, he can’t help but feel a little glad at the fact that they broke into his house today.

Honestly, looking back on everything, all of their collective experiences during highschool, the blond doesn’t really see another way that all of this could’ve gone. They’ve never done anything without that thing involving some sort of absolute chaos, mess and destruction, the breaking down of walls and the subsequent building them up again – it’s how they function as a group, and it’s how they’ve been since the beginning and probably will be until the bitter end. Really, Katsuki is stupid for thinking his coming out slash relationship reveal could’ve worked without the help of a likely concussion and some good old breaking and entering.

The blond huffs a laugh at the sentiment. This is so stupid.

His forehead leans against the door. It’s nice and cool, perfect for warm nights like these. In the background, Katsuki can hear the shower running – Izuku had disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they were alone again. He’d come here straight from university, the icky feeling of stuffy lecture halls and sticky cafeteria tables still clinging to his skin, so he was more than happy to rid himself of the grime of college life via a nice bubbly soak. The sound of the water hitting the tiles has a relaxing element to it, almost like rain pitter-pattering against window panes during an autumn storm, and Katsuki finds his eyes slipping shut in order to just listen.

Everything is quiet around the apartment; it’s calm, comforting. Katsuki remains in his spot until he hears the water shutting off, then he pushes off the door and heads into the kitchen.

The living area’s floor lamp dimly illuminates the apartment, casting flickering shadows as he walks by, almost playfully. The appliances are bathed in yellowish light, too, as Katsuki steps in front of them in order to reach for a glass. He fills it with water and takes a long, slow sip, barely noticing the sound of footsteps coming from behind him before scarred, slender arms wrap around his middle and hold him close. A face burrows into his back, right between his shoulder blades, and it feels a little like getting a massage. Katsuki takes another swig, then sets down his cup and turns his head to peak down at his boyfriend.

The greenet’s not wearing his hearing aids, unruly curls stick to his forehead, still pretty wet. He’s getting the back of Katsuki’s shirt all damp, but the blond couldn’t care less.

He grabs his boyfriend’s hands, loosening them just enough so he can turn around and embrace the smaller man in a careful hug, then rest his chin atop of the dark locks. Izuku giggles beneath him.

“You’re so tall.”

Katsuki mumbles back, “you like it,” despite the greenet not being able to hear it and pokes his boyfriend’s cheek, who in response grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers. His voice is a little more serious when he speaks again, but still happy. “Today was…really something.”

The blond hums in agreement and scoots back a little so that he’s face to face with Izuku. Green eyes peer up at him. They’re a little red – he must’ve gotten soap in them earlier. “But I’m glad everything went so well.”

“Me too.” Katsuki’s careful to properly enunciate his words, to make it easier for Izuku to understand what he’s saying without him having to loosen the hand he has resting casually on the greenet’s lower back. It earns him a fond grin from the latter, and he smiles back.

For the first time in a while, Katsuki sleeps easy. He doesn’t dream of anything, isn’t startled awake by a beeping pager or drunken friends wanting to spend the night over at his place.

When he wakes, it’s to a gentle fingers carding through his hair as if it’s made of gold and another fidgeting with the cracking callouses on his thumb an heel of his hand. Izuku is wearing a shirt of Katsuki’s, an old grey thing he’s had since highschool, with a washed-out image on the front that’s grown completely indecipherable after the hundredth time in the washing mashine. It’s slipped off one of the greenet’s shoulders, exposing a freckled collarbone and a starburst scar, which is almost completely faded by now.

Despite the sun’s warmth beaming down on them through a gap in the curtains, their legs are entangled, skin to skin, and Katsuki indulges in a deep lungful of Izuku’s fruity shampoo before wrapping an arm around the man and pulling him even closer.

There is no doubt in his mind, none at all, that this is exactly where he belongs.