Work Text:
Eijirou was puzzling over English conjugations when Bakugou poked him on the shoulder.
He jolted at the contact, and he paused to look up at his friend; he was already watching him, expression unreadable. “What’s up? Did I get one wrong?” He scanned his worksheet for an incorrect answer, not that he’d be able to find it on his own. English was a convoluted language, it didn’t make sense half the time, and it sucked that it was the most widely known language and thus crucial for their work as heroes.
He looked back at Bakugou in time to see him waving him off as he went back to his own worksheet. “Nah, you’re fine.”
Eijirou blinked. “Okay…so why’d you poke me?”
Bakugou shrugged. “Just felt like it.” He glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “Got a problem with it?”
“No way, man, not at all! Was just curious, that’s all.” He sent Bakugou his most disarming smile, and the blond only squinted at it before huffing and going back to work.
Eijirou’s smile lingered as he went back to his own homework. Bakugou was a strange guy, awkward around friendship and generally anything that didn’t have to do with explodokilling. If the poking was his way to try and reach out in a non-aggressive way, then Eijirou wouldn’t fight him on it. In fact, he felt honored that Bakugou cared about him enough to give him friendship pokes!
It made Eijirou reach out to lightly prod Bakugou’s arm. At his questioning look, Eijirou grinned. “Just felt like it,” he mimicked.
“Idiot,” Bakugou muttered with a shake of his head.
Eijirou went back to his work, missing the color starting to bloom on the tips of Bakugou’s ears.
They kept happening.
At school or in the dorms, during the walk to class or after a long day of hero training, Eijirou would feel a finger poke him somewhere on his body, out of the blue a lot of the time. Sometimes Eijirou could just be laughing with the rest of the squad as they ate lunch, and there’d be a poke to his thigh under the table, Bakugou still focused on his own food when Eijirou would glance over. Or Eijirou would smile broadly at Bakugou at the end of a study session, and he would stare before poking the apple of his cheek. Just little moments, discrete, private between them, and every time Eijirou’s heart would warm, and he’d poke back.
He got a lot of pokes the night he got back from the raid. Huddled in his room, wanting to be alone but welcoming Bakugou’s silent presence, because even if he was curious about what went down, he knew better than to bombard Eijirou about it. He just sat sentry by Eijirou’s form bundled under the blankets, silent and still, until a finger prodded his knee.
Eijirou peeled the blankets away from his face to squint through the dark at Bakugou. “What?” he croaked, voice scratchy from disuse.
Bakugou didn’t say anything, just poked his thigh, then his hip. It tickled through the covers as he prodded his ribs and stomach, and his touch was featherlight against the razor-thin scars along Eijirou’s arms, not like they were fragile but something precious to be treasured and cared for. He finished with his finger against Eijirou’s forehead, staying there.
He looked past the hand to Bakugou’s face; he wore a determined scowl, but it was softer than the ones he wore during battle, his eyebrows pinched and lips almost pouting. Was he worried?
“You’re okay,” he whispered, another poke to his forehead punctuating the statement. “You made it.” Another poke, then he pulled away.
Eijirou stared, only looking away when his breaths came out as hiccups, his cheeks became soaked, and the heavy weight clenching around his heart released for the first time in days.
He didn’t get Bakugou’s poking habit at all, but it was just another thing that made Eijirou fall deeper for the explosive boy.
“I like you, Bakugou.”
Bakugou froze, whipped his head up to look at Eijirou with wide eyes. “Hah?”
Eijirou couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze, instead keeping his eyes on the manga in his lap, his thumb and finger worrying the corner of the page. “It might be more than like at this point,” he chuckled. “But I wanted you to know. I was also wondering if you’d want to go out with me? Maybe? Like on a date?”
Silence. Bakugou didn’t move; Eijirou wasn’t sure if he was even still breathing. But then the bed creaked, and a finger prodded the hollow of his cheek.
Eijirou looked over; Bakugou’s entire face was red, as were his ears, a sharp contrast against the ash blond strands they were tucked in between. Eijirou bit back a grin as he poked one. “You’re blushing, bro.”
“No shit, you just confessed,” Bakugou grit out, sounding more embarrassed than angry. And he hadn’t said no yet.
So Eijirou let his smile grow. “Sorry I sprung it on you.”
“Whatever.” Bakugou looked pouty now. “Just don’t get how you said it so easily.”
Eijirou rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while if that helps. Would also like an answer on it too…”
Bakugou opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and when no noise came out he poked Eijirou on the shoulder, bordering aggressive.
Still endearing, no less confusing. “Alright man, why do you keep poking me?” he finally asked. “Is it a friend thing?” Eijirou’s heart plummeted into his stomach then, his blood running cold. “Are you saying no…?”
“No!” Bakugou rushed to respond, and Eijirou’s heart soared back into place. “I’m not saying no.” Bakugou’s face turned even darker. “It’s not a friend thing either.”
“Oh. Then, what is it?”
Bakugou ran his hands through his hair, down his face, and after groaning into them for a solid five seconds he blurted, “I fucking like you too! Like a shit ton! But I’m shit at feelings so I just-” He jabbed Eijirou again in his chest.
Eijirou stared at the spot he poked, eyes growing wider with the increasing blush on his face.
Bakugou’s been poking him because he likes him.
He’s been giving him love pokes .
For months .
And Eijirou’s been reciprocating without even knowing. Before he had even reciprocated the feelings in the first place.
“Why the fuck are you crying???”
“Because you’ve loved me for so long and I didn’t know!” The manga was abandoned as he tackled Bakugou to the bed, ignoring his yelling and popping hands as he squeezed him into a tight hug. “Katsukiiiii!”
Bakugou’s mouth and hands fell silent. “...Eijirou,” tentative yet hopeful.
Eijirou squeezed him tighter, enough to make him wheeze.
“Jesus fucking christ knock it off , I get it already!”
Yet Eijirou didn’t miss the light poke to his back.
Eijirou sat up, their positions from the tackle making him straddle Katsuki’s waist now, but he didn’t care as he poked his stomach, then his arm, then his cheek, and more and more across his face and torso until Katsuki was yelling but laughing, Eijirou laughing along with him and his heart feeling so, so full.