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Bakugou Katsuki isn’t good with change.
He wasn’t good with change when Midoriya Izuku suddenly gained four inches and three gallons of confidence during their transition to high school and he certainly wasn't good with change when he had to move away to a new town, only to get stuck as a barista in the local coffee shop.
It’s not a surprise, then, that the tattoos don’t irk him in any way. He likes them. He likes permanent.
And that’s why he’s certainly not happy when he walks into the usual tattoo parlor for his appointment. Standing at the counter is definitely not the usual Uraraka Ochako, but a man around his age with spiky red hair, wearing a muscle tee to show off the swirling ink on his skin.
The fact that he's attractive isn't the worst part. The worst part is that Katsuki knows him.
Kirishima Eijirou.
When the bell rings, announcing Katsuki’s arrival, Kirishima turns to him and grins, oddly sharp teeth showing through.
The smile is blinding. Katsuki flinches.
“Hi! You must be...Bakugou,” Kirishima says, peering down at the appointment chart, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“Cut the shit, Kirishima,” he snaps.
“It's nice to see you again,” Kirishima says, still smiling that motherfucking smile, Katsuki hates him and that damn smile.
“Yeah, alright. I thought me and Uraraka were the only two from Class 1-A who lived in this godforsaken hell hole. Where the fuck is she?” Katsuki asks, not even trying to filter the curses out of his words.
The truth is, Katsuki wasn't very surprised to see Kirishima there. Katsuki’s life was a series of coincidences and this was just another one. He didn't believe in fate. Even if recently he had started to remember Kirishima more often lately.
“She took a day off,” Kirishima says and Katsuki internally curses her. “She showed me the design that you wanted,” Kirishima continues, stepping out from behind the counter to reveal jean clad legs and combat boots. “I can get started on it today.”
“No,” Katsuki says immediately and Kirishima looks over at him from the door that leads to the back. “I don't even fucking know if you're good,” he complains.
(Deep down, Katsuki knows that he's really all a facade, that his feelings for Kirishima just slammed full force back into his face after six years of laying dormant.)
Kirishima just shrugs. “It's either me or a reschedule.” Katsuki scowls. Kirishima smiles. “I promise I'm good.”
Katsuki had never met anyone else like Kirishima. Most people were wary, if not flat out scared, of him. Katsuki was rude and abrasive and intimidating and Kirishima did not seem to notice or care.
When he sits down, Katsuki decides to never ever become Kirishima’s friend.
The first contact with the needle is the worst part, but Katsuki refuses to flinch. Kirishima hums, placing one gloved hand on Katsuki’s wrist to steady the hand working at his shoulder.
“What does it mean?” Kirishima asks and Katsuki shoots him an annoyed look.
The tattoo he had asked for consisted of 20 tiny birds circling his arm. Like Kirishima doesn't fucking know what it means. Katsuki hates him.
“It's personal, bitch,” he snaps and Kirishima grins.
“You haven't changed,” Kirishima says. It isn't true. They've both changed. Six years is a long while.
“When’d you decide to start tattooing, anyway?” Katsuki asks. “Always thought you’d end up being a firefighter or some shit like that.”
Kirishima snorts. “Just because I spent so much time fighting your high school pyromania?”
The needle’s pain has faded away to a harmless sting in the back of his mind. Kirishima in front of him hurts a lot more.
“Fuck you,” Katsuki says. “Not only because of that,” he finishes but doesn't clarify.
Kirishima quirks his mouth. “The firefighter saving-the-world-one-person-at-a-time thing didn't really work out. So Uraraka hooked me up with a teacher and here I am.”
Katsuki flinches this time, when Kirishima moves to start the outline of the second bird.
“You never kept in contact with the rest of the class,” Kirishima says, sure of it. He doesn't even need to ask.
Katsuki considers getting angry for a second, but decides that it wouldn't do him much good while he's getting tattooed so he forces himself to calm down. “You know me. I'm not good at that stuff.”
Kirishima hums under his breath before speaking. “I don't really.”
“What?”
“I don't really, you know, know you.”
Katsuki closes his mouth. “Oh.”
Kirishima changes the topic, smile taking its place on his lips again. “What kind of music do you like?”
Katsuki shrugs one shoulder. “I don't know. What do you like? Fucking go for it.”
Kirishima turns on the music, something familiar and actually good, so Katsuki doesn't comment.
Later, he realizes that this was Kirishima’s first attempt to know him.
Katsuki hates being a barista. Mostly because it involves waking up at ungodly hours and dealing with people that make him want to explode.
In addition to barely any sleep, Katsuki had lost the key to the café, so here he was, sitting in front of the locked door, waiting for one of his shitty coworkers to show up.
He groans and covers his face with his hands. This is bullshit, he thinks when a familiar figure comes around the corner and spots him.
“Bakugou!” Kirishima shouts as he pulls out his earphones (fuck, it was too early for that kind of noise) and Katsuki grumbles.
“Go the fuck away,” he says.
“Oh, is this where you work?” Kirishima asks, completely ignoring Katsuki’s complaint. “Are you locked out?”
“Fuck off, Kirishima,” Katsuki repeats.
Kirishima rambles on. “Luckily for you, you have a savior!” he explains and then pulls out Katsuki’s key, slamming it on the table. “You left it at the parlor yesterday.”
Katsuki’s eyes soften in relief as he reaches for them but Kirishima’s hand stays firmly on the items.
“For repayment,” Kirishima starts deliberately. “I'll need your phone number.”
Katsuki snorts. “What kind of repayment is that?”
“A fair one!”
“Fine then. Unlock the door,” Katsuki says and Kirishima obliges. A bell rings. “How did you know I was here anyway?”
“I run by here everyday, you just never see me,” Kirishima says, grinning, pausing at the doorway.
“You run?” Katsuki asks, shoving his way into the café.
Kirishima raises an eyebrow. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Katsuki doesn't reply as he scribbles something on a blank Post-It note, ripping it off and handing it to Kirishima. “Here. My number, if you want it that badly.”
“I do. Plus, the second part of my payment is a free latte.”
“This place isn't even fucking open, get out.”
“Free. Coffee.”
“Fine, asshole,” Katsuki says, acquiescing and trudging to the back to make one.
Like you wouldn't have done it anyway, the traitorous voice in the back of his head tells him.
Katsuki hates Kirishima for popping back into his life. He isn't really sure what love is but he's sure that what he used to feel for Kirishima is pretty damn close.
Kirishima is just as earnest and kind as he used to be and even more beautiful, and Katsuki really doesn't want to deal with it. Not after the fact that he's spent most of his life after high school trying to forget it.
Katsuki hates Kirishima so he brings out the free coffee and slides it across the counter. “Here ya go, bitch.”
“Thanks,” Kirishima says and takes a gulp despite its near boiling temperature. “Well, I'm off.”
Katsuki snorts. “Got an appointment this early?”
“Nah, I work three jobs. Part-time cashier, part-time DJ, part-time tattoo artist.”
Even Katsuki is impressed by that. “Well. I won't miss you, shithead,” Katsuki adds.
“Yeah, you will!” Kirishima calls back to him and breaks into a run when he gets out of the door.
Katsuki watches him go and crushes the traitorous voice in the back of his head.
Kirishima calls Katsuki a week later. Katsuki denies to himself that he ever waited for the call.
“Are you free next Sunday?” Kirishima asks as soon as Katsuki clicks accept.
“Probably, why?” Katsuki replies.
“Don't kill me but I need your help. There's a place that I'm DJing for an hour away and I need someone to help me get my equipment there and back.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Okay? Why the fuck did you call me?”
“I don't know anyone who lives here minus you and Uraraka, and I don't want to make a girl do work for me,” Kirishima whines.
“I'm sure Uraraka is strong enough to help,” Katsuki scoffs.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima says, and it's the teasing tone that makes Bakugou stiffen. “Don't you want to hang out with your favorite person?”
Hook, line, and sinker.
“I hate you so fucking much for bringing that back, Kirishima, I'm going to fucking kill you,” Katsuki growls.
“Sure, go ahead, but will you help me?” Kirishima presses.
Katsuki hates him.
“Fine. I'll be there.”
Katsuki hears Kirishima’s whoop of joy and he cuts it short by ending the call. Katsuki hates him.
The “favorite person” thing stemmed from this time in third year when Kirishima and Kaminari had forced him to come to this random bar in the middle of nowhere with them. It was shady enough for them to get by without being checked and they ended up fairly drunk and lying on the couches. Kirishima was drunk enough to put his head in Katsuki’s lap, and Katsuki then told him that Kirishima was his favorite person.
Katsuki was drunk enough not to remember any of it the next morning, but once Kirishima had brought it up, the memories came back—way too vividly. Still, the only thing Katsuki actually remembered from that night was the phrase he had said, and Kirishima’s smile when he said it. The rest of the details had been filled in by Kirishima and Kaminari while Katsuki tried not to scream or blush. Or both.
Katsuki’s been told that he gets scarily honest when he's drunk.
And it's true. Kirishima was his favorite person in high school. Nearly all of Katsuki’s world revolved around either him or Deku, though the emotions associated with the two of them were very very different.
He growls. Katsuki hates thinking about high school.
On Saturday night, Kirishima texts Katsuki his address, three winky faces, and a reminder for him to dress nicely.
On Sunday afternoon, Katsuki contemplates wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket, but then decides that he’d rather blend in than stick out.
He wears the nicest thing he owns, a button up shirt and dress pants, and drives over to Kirishima’s house.
Kirishima owns a pickup truck, which Katsuki laughs at for five minutes until Kirishima threatens to make him sit in the back with all the equipment.
The drive is quiet. Kirishima is playing the same playlist as he did in the tattoo parlor and hums along with the music while Katsuki stares out the window.
The room where the party is being held is big enough to hold about fifty people and Katsuki helps Kirishima set up the equipment. No one else is in the room, but the tables are already set up and decorated. It's suspicious.
“Hey, Kirishima—”
Kirishima cuts him off. “Look, Bakugou, I'm really sorry for lying to you but there was no other way to get you to come. Uraraka and I have been planning this for so long—”
“What the fuck?” Katsuki asks. He's getting more confused by the moment. “What about Uraraka?”
And that's when Midoriya Izuku walks through the door.
Bakugou literally sees red.
“Kirishima!” Deku exclaims, and then his eyes flick to Katsuki. “Kacchan!”
“Give us one second,” Kirishima tells Midoriya and bodily drags Katsuki by his collar into another room, who is still struggling past his anger.
Kirishima grips his collar tighter and corners him. Kirishima isn’t taller than Katsuki, but the feeling of being overpowered by Kirishima makes his blood boil.
Katsuki explodes. “Kirishima, fuck you, why the fuck is Deku here, I swear to fuck if you don't explain this shit—”
“It's a fucking get-together, Bakugou,” Kirishima snaps. “Class 1-A, Class 1-B. A get together. I knew you wouldn't come but you're a part of us, no matter how long it takes you to admit it.”
Katsuki is so so angry. He doesn’t like thinking about high school. No matter how much the people in Class 1-A altered his life, he fucking hated thinking about it.
“I can't believe you didn't fucking tell me. God, I hate you, Kirishima, why are you such an asshole?”
“Bakugou, you don't fucking understand,” Kirishima says. He's angry too, now. “This isn't about you. This is about me and Uraraka and Midoriya and the other thirty six people who actually give a shit. It's hard to get forty people together for one night. I worked hard on this. Now can you please behave?”
Kirishima pushes him back, lets go of his collar. It's quiet.
After a fight, Katsuki’s good at one thing: running the fuck away. So that's what he does, pulls away and makes his way back.
Kirishima doesn't let him. He grabs Katsuki's sleeve and pulls him back. “You're not going anywhere. We're gonna sort this out right now.”
“Stop touching me. Stop telling me what to do,” Katsuki hisses, shaking his arm free.
“I know you,” Kirishima says. “You're not going to apologize unless I make you.”
“You're not making me do anything. And you don't know me.”
“Well, I’d goddamn like to,” Kirishima says. “If you’d actually let me. Tell me you're sorry. Or not sorry. Just don't walk away.”
Katsuki doesn't reply, so Kirishima steps forward, gets in his face.
“Are you sorry?”
“No,” Katsuki answers, truthfully.
“Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the night?”
Katsuki pauses. “No.”
“There ya go,” Kirishima replies, finally smiling. “Wasn't so bad, was it?”
“Fuck you, Kirishima,” Katsuki says, but it's more light hearted.
“Anyways, didn't you make up with Midoriya at the end of third year?”
Katsuki scoffs. “It wasn't really making up. It was forced reconciliation.”
“Forced? By who?” Kirishima asks in a fake disbelieving tone. “Oh wait, let me guess. Uraraka and Iida.”
“Those two are fucking hard to get away from. Kind of like you,” Katsuki says.
Kirishima smiles and Katsuki suddenly wants that smile to shine his way forever.
Katsuki opens the door and they go back to the main room. Kendou and Tetsutetsu from Class B are the only other people to have arrived.
“Yo, Kirishima!” Tetsutetsu calls and Kirishima runs over for a hug.
Katsuki looks over to Deku and rolls his eyes. Deku snorts and walks over to him.
“Hi, Kacchan,” he greets.
“Hey,” Katsuki replies. Kirishima better be fucking proud of him.
“Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?” Kirishima asks on the way back. It's around midnight and dark enough that Katsuki can barely see Kirishima’s face.
“It was awful,” Katsuki says.
The truth is, it was okay to catch up with old friends even if it meant sitting through Iida’s nagging or never ending roast sessions from Kaminari and Jirou (both of which brought back vivid high school memories for Katsuki).
A few of them had even hassled him into trading phone numbers. He had already been thrust into a group chat with several of them (they had already begun to drag him about something on the other, so he shut his phone off two minutes later).
The truth is, it was nice to see more people who actually give a shit about Katsuki.
“Thanks,” Kirishima says suddenly and Katsuki raises an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Thanks for getting me cash.”
“What?”
Kirishima smirks. “We bet on how long you could last having a conversation with Midoriya. I guessed five minutes. I was right.”
Katsuki splutters. “That's such bullshit. Where's my share?”
“You don't get a share. I was right.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't,” Kirishima says.
Obviously.
Katsuki sighs and stretches his arms out. The car is warm to the point that it's choking him so he unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt and leans back against the seat.
Kirishima clears his throat loudly. “Don't undress in my car. She's too pure.”
Katsuki snorts and pops another button. Kirishima rolls his eyes as they pull into the parking lot of Kirishima’s apartment complex.
Katsuki stretches again and makes a low groaning sound. He hates cars in general, too cramped and sweltering in the summer.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima says and Katsuki turns to him.
Kirishima kisses him.
It's not a great kiss, to be completely honest. Their noses smash together and Katsuki, being totally unprepared, flips out the moment that he realizes what's going on, pushing Kirishima away.
“Sorry,” Kirishima says, sounding really genuinely sorry, which makes Katsuki feel guilty immediately underneath his haze of confusion. “I just—”
Katsuki makes a split second decision and pulls Kirishima by his collar to meet again.
He wants Kirishima. Now that he can think, he notices how warm Kirishima’s lips are and how they taste like the chocolates he’d been eating earlier and how his tongue is in Katsuki’s mouth.
They pull away for a second to breathe and Katsuki can't help but smirk. “You move fast, Kirishima,” he teases but the other boy just shrugs.
“I want you,” he says bluntly and Katsuki can feel himself turning red. Kirishima smiles devilishly in return.
The lack of an armrest between them made it easy to alter positions. Kirishima turns Katsuki so that his back is pressed against the door and wraps his arms around Katsuki’s neck. Katsuki stretches his legs across the seat and Kirishima settles practically on top of him, but Katsuki doesn't care at this point.
Katsuki doesn't know how long they’ve been kissing but Kirishima’s mouth is on Katsuki’s neck and Katsuki is making sounds that would be insanely embarrassing in any other situation.
Katsuki moves his hands from where they're tangled in Kirishima’s hair, drags them down his back, and stops at Kirishima’s waist.
He slides his hands an inch up Kirishima’s shirt and suddenly Kirishima tenses and pulls away from Katsuki. Katsuki snaps out from his haze and suddenly an air of awkwardness falls over them. They scramble out of their position to opposite sides of the car.
Shit. Katsuki had never planned on telling anyone that he’s gay, much less that he has a crush on Kirishima.
It's an understatement to say that he’s freaking out in his head.
Kirishima breaks the silence, as expected. “Do you like me, Bakugou?”
“Huh?” Katsuki fakes, trying to avoid the question.
Kirishima rolls his eyes as the tension in the air slowly fades away. “You know? A crush? Like I know you probably did in high school but—”
“What?” Katsuki asks, attempting to be threatening.
Kirishima laughs. “Come on, man, you were so obvious. Like once we all figured out you were gay—”
“What?”
Kirishima cracks a huge grin. “Bakugou, you're way easier to read than you think.”
Katsuki scoffs and folds his arms. “Okay. I did like you,” he says, putting emphasis on the past tense.
Kirishima’s eyes harden seriously and Katsuki tries not to break under the gaze. “And do you, now?” Kirishima asks.
Katsuki swallows. “Yeah.”
“Oh, that's good,” Kirishima says quickly in response. “Me too.”
Katsuki’s mouth goes dry. “Well, um—”
“Do you want to be my boyfriend, Bakugou?” Kirishima teases and Katsuki goes red.
“Yeah, you asshole,” he replies, and Kirishima laughs. It sounds like bells, until Katsuki decides to stop being such a sap.
“Wanna come in?” Kirishima asks and Katsuki shrugs, automatically leaning over to fix Kirishima’s tousled hair before getting out of the car. He silently thanks a superior power for having it be so late at night, so they were unseen in their disheveled states.
Kirishima covers the DJ equipment with a tarp just in case and then leads Katsuki to his apartment. He snakes his arm around Katsuki’s waist, who doesn't try to move away.
This is nice. Surreal, but nice. It still kind of feels like if Katsuki wakes up in the morning, he’ll find himself in his own bed, without Kirishima next to him.
Kirishima unlocks the door and yawns before pushing open the door.
“Tired?” Katsuki asks quietly. Kirishima nods and kicks off his shoes at the door.
“Sleep in my bed,” Kirishima says and Katsuki shrugs. He would probably do anything Kirishima asked him to do right now.
Kirishima offers Katsuki pajamas and he changes in Kirishima's bedroom while Kirishima changes in the bathroom.
Kirishima’s apartment is warm and comfortable. Katsuki supposes that it matches his personality.
Katsuki throws his clothes into a corner and lies down on Kirishima’s bed.
“Hey, Bakugou,” Kirishima asks, as he exits the bathroom. “What is your tattoo really about?”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Wow, you must really be stupid. Twenty birds.”
“No, no, I get that part. Class 1-A,” Kirishima confirms. “Just…Mineta. Really? You want his memory tattooed on you for the rest of your life?”
Katsuki bursts into laughter and it takes him a good two minutes to settle down.
“Replace Mineta with my mom,” Katsuki says and Kirishima smirks, before sliding into the covers.
“That's sweet,” Kirishima says, nudging Katsuki’s leg with his foot, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Katsuki says, grumbling. “What about you? Why did you pull away in the car?”
He asks the question as casually as possible but there's an underlying tone of nervousness that Katsuki can't shake off.
“Oh,” Kirishima says, and his face falls.
Katsuki watches Kirishima’s discomfort and stammers out a response. “I mean, if you don't want to—”
“No, no,” Kirishima tells him quickly. “It's just,” he says, stops, takes a breath, and then continues. “Remember when I told you that the firefighter thing didn't really work out for me?”
“Yeah…?” Katsuki says, not really understanding where the conversation was going.
“Hold on,” Kirishima says and then pulls off his shirt. The moonlight pales Kirishima’s skin but Katsuki can still make out the burned and scarred skin across Kirishima’s abdomen and parts of his chest.
“Oh, shit,” Katsuki whispers.
Kirishima’s voice drops very low, and Katsuki has to strain to hear him. “There was a fire in my building. I tried to save everyone I could, but I got burned. I can't really handle fire anymore. Too scared. I ruined my career, I guess.”
Katsuki places his hand over Kirishima’s own to comfort him. “It's not like what you didn't wasn't a brave thing. Don't be so hard on yourself, Kirishima.”
Kirishima shrugs again. “Thanks, Bakugou,” he says and reaches for his shirt.
“Hold on,” Katsuki says and he leans down quickly to kiss Kirishima’s burned skin quickly. “There you go,” he finishes.
Kirishima’s grin is blinding. He slides on his shirt and curls up into Katsuki, who lets him. He wants this. He wants Kirishima and he doesn't want whatever they have to fall apart.
He wants them to be permanent.
Katsuki wants the two of them to fall asleep together that night, the next night, and every other night to come.