Work Text:
Bakugou walked into the house, still wearing his hero uniform. He hadn’t even taken a shower. He placed his silver gauntlets carefully on the floor, even though he knew there wasn’t a single drop of sweat left on them and that throwing them down wouldn’t cause any damage. Yet even the faint sound they made as they clinked against the floor made him tense up. He felt as if he were standing on needles pricking every part of his body. Most of all in his head, where they set off an orchestra of the most annoying sounds from which he couldn’t even hide.
He took off his heavy military boots and the belt holding his grenades, leaving everything lying next to his gloves. He unbuttoned his heroic uniform halfway down his chest to cool off a little. The sweat had long since dried on him, along with the dirt and dust. Nothing entertaining or serious had happened today, yet he felt as though he’d been working for two days straight. He had to drink an energy drink, which he followed up with two black coffees, so he wouldn’t collapse right there in the office. He didn’t know if it was fatigue or dizziness; those two sensations had merged into one for him today. Just like the scene around him.
He rubbed his eyes. He needed to rest. But he still had so much work to do!
He walked slowly down the hallway to the living room, which was connected to the kitchen. He knew what he had to do. Have a drink, eat, take a shower, change clothes, and work until the early hours of the morning, until he collapsed at his desk from exhaustion, and then at two in the afternoon, another afternoon shift would be waiting for him until the evening.
But his gaze fell on Kirishima, who was sitting contentedly on the couch, legs spread wide, as if the whole place belonged to him and the couch was too small for him. He was wearing a loose T-shirt, still a little stained from cooking, with sauce splattered on his sleeve. Those hideous shorts that Bakugou hated, but Kirishima loved for how comfortable they were and how he could walk around in them without anything constricting him. He was holding a phone in his hand, and from the focused expression on his face and his slightly sticking-out tongue, Bakugou could tell he was playing some game again. He sat there—rested, content.
He didn’t say a word or even look at Bakugou, yet after a moment—probably after he’d finished another round of the game—he raised one hand in the air and waited.
Bakugou knew he shouldn’t have. He reeked of sweat and dust. Months ago, he’d cleaned the couch after he and Kirishima had decided to experiment a little and spent the whole weekend in bed and in each other’s arms, until it felt awkward to sit on the couch again without getting aroused when they remembered everything they’d done on it over those two days.
Still, he couldn’t resist. His heart leapt, and his mind went quiet for a moment. He walked over to his partner and, without asking him anything, greeting him or kissing him—he fell into his arms. He buried his nose in his chest, his hands folded on his stomach. Kirishima brought his legs closer together; Bakugou sat down on one of his thighs with his full weight, rested his chin on his head, and hugged him tightly, still holding the phone in his hand and playing.
He held him in his arms as if he weighed nothing at all and was tiny. As if he were shielding him from the world and giving him all the peace and quiet he needed right now.
Bakugou didn’t even ask how Kirishima knew. How he knew that the only thing he needed right now was him and his warm embrace, his pounding heart, and his body, which was firm and smelled of their shared shower gel.
After a moment, Kirishima began stroking Bakugou’s hair. He didn’t care that his hair was wet with sweat and dirt. He stroked him, massaged him. Bakugou moaned contentedly and closed his eyes. The voices in his head finally quieted down a little. The sounds began to fade. The dizziness that had been overwhelming him evaporated. Only fatigue remained, which turned into a pleasant sensation.
After several long minutes, when his eyelids had grown heavy and he was beginning to feel sleep overtake him, Kirishima said quietly, “Welcome home, Katsuki.” He kissed him on the forehead and hugged him tighter.
“I’m home,” he whispered into his chest, letting the fatigue overwhelm him and losing control of everything for a moment. Here, it didn’t matter who he was, what he did, or who he was supposed to be in public. Here, he was just Katsuki—Eijirou’s partner, with whom he had built a home. A place where they both felt safe and could be there for each other. Without words, without questions. Naturally and lovingly.