Chapter Text
By second year it’s common knowledge that if someone sees either Kirishima or Bakugou, the other is already no less than five meters away. They study and train together, take trips together, have sleepovers together, and are practically inseparable in every sense of the word. Kirishima isn’t even aware of this being true until his classmates start pointing it out, claiming that the two of them are always attached at the hip. Another recent discovery? None of Kirishima’s casual touches have been shrugged off lately, and he is starting to get the sneaking suspicion that maybe Bakugou welcomes the familiarity of it.
It has taken a lot of attempts of having his arm thrown off of Bakugou’s shoulder for them to have reached this point. Kirishima recalls the first time he’d done it resulting in a blast to his chest, and he had to walk around campus all day with a shirt sporting a hand-sized hole in the center. With a slower approach, though, Kirishima progressed from bumping elbows to brushing shoulders as they walked. The first time Bakugou left Kirishima’s arm laying across his shoulder with nothing more than a grunt of annoyance, Kirishima was pretty sure he could see stars.
Right now, he walks alongside Bakugou with an arm draped over his shoulder as they leave their classroom for lunch. He enjoys the way the sunlight shines through the tall windows and makes the hallway floor look glossier. The light also paints Bakugou’s hair to look almost blazingly white. It always catches Kirishima off guard how effortlessly pretty his friend can be.
“Any plans for today?” he asks, tilting his head to glance at Bakugou better.
“Not really,” Bakugou answers. “Probably gonna catch up on some assignments since we have a test comin’ up.” He side-eyes Kirishima. “Which you should be doin’, too.”
“Ugh, boring. I study enough during class, don’t I?” Kirishima complains with a fake frown.
The corner of Bakugou’s mouth twitches like he wants to laugh. “I’ve seen your grades, so how do you want me to answer that?”
“C’s are good grades!”
“They’re average.”
Kirishima jostles Bakugou with the arm around his shoulder and claims offense at that, which causes Bakugou to press a light explosion to his face, doing no damage whatsoever. They laugh as they try tripping each other down the hallway, probably making themselves the last two to head off to the busy lunchroom. Bakugou grabs Kirishima’s neck in a loose headlock as they rush down the hall. Kirishima is unfazed showing affection like this, but with Bakugou’s equal amount of humored glee, many of the students that they pass by look like they’re witnessing something revolutionary happen.
Really, it’s shocking that people sometimes still don’t pin them to be the type to get along. It feels kind of obvious that the two of them are a package deal. This friendship of theirs is something that has been in the works for a while, stemming back as far as to when they didn’t know each other beyond being classmates. It wasn’t even very hard to match each other’s wavelength, because he and Bakugou fought alongside one another at the USJ incident seamlessly. And from then on becoming friends was as easy as two plus two.
Pushing open the cafeteria’s double doors, Bakugou walks beside him and directs them both to the counter where Lunch Rush is. The line is long because other students beat them here, so they stand idly by. Kirishima now has his hands to himself, and he adjusts the straps on his book bag during his wait.
“You’ve got a lot of potential,” Bakugou says seemingly out of nowhere, focusing too intently on the food selection laid out before him. “You’re already fuckin’ strong, so don’t sell yourself short by not studyin’.”
The lack of eye contact is an obvious tactic Bakugou uses to not show how much he means the things he says, trying to seem casual. Kirishima smiles because of it, his heart warming from the sentiment and the praise. Compliments from Bakugou always feel like a rare occurrence, so Kirishima holds them as close to his heart as he can like it’s some sort of valuable treasure.
Bakugou continues talking, still looking away. “Come ‘round to my room later and we can review some shit. If we finish early, we can watch that dumb movie you haven’t shut up about.”
Kirishima’s pretty sure he’s only mentioned the movie once — twice at most — since he saw the commercial for it saying that it’s now available for streaming. It’s an action-comedy that seems entertaining, following the story of a hero being posed as a crazed villain because of a wrong place, wrong time situation. The fact that Bakugou remembers that enough to bring it up… it makes Kirishima feel tingly inside.
“Thanks, man.” Kirishima bumps a hip against Bakugou’s to get his attention, which draws their eyes back to one another. Looking at Bakugou kind of makes Kirishima’s breath cut short. He directs a bright smile at him. “I’ll be there.”
Tutoring is always enjoyable with Bakugou. Kirishima often has a difficult time in class, both with paying attention and with actually understanding the material itself, so he really values this opportunity. And, he appreciates the commitment Bakugou puts forth to help him learn. Like, Bakugou’s notebooks are always pristine and organized, but he adds sticky notes for references and highlights key terms so that he can go over it with Kirishima. The extra effort really touches Kirishima’s heart.
With tonight’s tutoring session already out of the way, though, Bakugou is upstairs setting up the movie on his laptop while Kirishima goes to make some popcorn. He’s in the middle of punching in the allotted time to cook it in the microwave when someone enters the kitchen and greets him.
“Hey man,” Sero starts, rummaging through the cabinets for a box stashing ‘hidden’ snacks. It’s nothing more than a pack of lime chips and box of chocolate chip cookies. “Which one should I have?”
Kirishima looks at the two options, pursing his lips in thought like this is some big decision. “What kinda mood are you in?”
“I’m bored. Gonna borrow some manga from ‘Roki ‘cause I’ve got nothing better to do,” Sero answers, still holding the snacks up.
“Cookies, then.” To provide reasoning, Kirishima offers the dumb excuse of, “Sugar excites the brain!”
Sero nods his head like he’s been delivered sage wisdom, grabbing the box of cookies and shoving one into his mouth as he does so. Then, the microwave beeps in three increments, alerting Kirishima that the popcorn is now done. The second he clicks the button to open the appliance’s door, the smell of the food wafts out. The buttery yet salty aroma fills the air of the kitchen, and Sero looks at the fresh snack like the chocolate chip cookies don’t exist anymore.
“Oh, popcorn! We having a movie night?” Sero asks, looking excited for a livelier activity than just reading.
Sero reaches out to grab some of the popcorn, but Kirishima knocks his hand away.
“I’m having a movie night and these,” he says, drawing the bowl closer to his chest and away from Sero’s hands, “are not for you!”
“So stingy.” Sero rubs at his wrist and sighs dramatically. “Like it’ll kill you if I steal a kernel or two.”
“Bakugou will notice if the bowl feels lighter than usual. No idea how, but he always knows,” Kirishima answers with a shrug.
The last time Kirishima shaved a few kernels off the top of the bowl, Bakugou hounded him for starting the snack before the movie. (It seems like Bakugou is the type of guy to sit with the popcorn on his lap untouched during movie previews at the theater, whereas Kirishima is nearly done with the bag before the film even starts.) Bakugou had then taken it upon himself to eat over half the bowl of popcorn, claiming it was his payback. All Kirishima did was eat some on his way upstairs!
Eating away at another cookie, crumbs fly out of Sero’s mouth as he talks. “So it’s a movie night with Bakugou, hm? Just the two of you?”
It’s an innocent question, yet it’s poised with some underlying speculation that Kirishima doesn’t quite get. He wonders what Sero’s sudden smirk is for.
“Yeah! Just finished studying, so we’re gonna chill for a little bit,” Kirishima replies as he walks out of the kitchen with Sero, heading toward the stairs.
“Cool,” Sero says back. The two of them part ways, with Sero taking the elevator instead. “Right, well, don’t have too much fun!”
Okay, Kirishima really doesn’t know what that means. He scrunches his face and laughs out of confusion. “Uh, you too, I guess?”
As the elevator doors shut, Kirishima can hear Sero laugh back at his puzzlement.
Once he gets to Bakugou’s dorm room, Kirishima goes ahead and opens the door without knocking. It’s not like he really needs to anymore; he and Bakugou often barge into each other’s rooms without forewarning, anyway. Funny to think that when Kirishima had first done this, Bakugou cursed him out like there was no tomorrow, saying he was invading his space. Now, Bakugou is sometimes in Kirishima’s room before he even gets there himself.
“I’m back,” he calls out happily, as if Bakugou doesn’t see him right as he walks in.
“Took you long enough,” Bakugou complains with a small eye roll, settling onto the bed and placing the laptop down on a pillow on his lap. “You get lost on your way up here, or what?”
Kirishima should reply, should say that he took longer because he was chatting with Sero. Instead, he’s too focused on the empty space next to Bakugou, which is clearly an invitation for him to sit down next to him on the bed. This is different. This is an entirely new development. They usually place the laptop on Bakugou’s floor table and sit with their backs against the bed.
Not only that, but Bakugou has on the comfiest looking sweater right now. It’s a plain, dark blue color with an All Might patchwork over the heart, and it hangs on him loosely. He looks freshly showered, hair drying to look fluffier than it ever usually does. The effect this is having on Kirishima’s heart is unable to be explained. He jots this down as simply admiring his best friend, not sure if he should delve into any deeper meanings.
Since he can’t form words right now, he just laughs at Bakugou’s previous comment, blinking his eyes away from the blond and off onto the wall.
“Do I, uh—” he shifts from foot to foot, “do I sit with you on the bed, or?”
Call Kirishima crazy, but he swears Bakugou’s face has a pink tinge to it.
“Where the hell else are you gonna sit? The floor?” Bakugou grunts out, looking at his laptop screen instead of at Kirishima. “It’s uncomfortable as fuck to sit down there. Get over here before I change my damn mind.”
Kirishima is not about to question Bakugou’s sudden allowance of physical contact these past few weeks any further. He will gladly take what he can get! He doesn’t know why it makes him feel so flustered, though.
Carefully holding the bowl, Kirishima slides in next to Bakugou on the bed, feeling his skin spark from their legs and arms touching each other. These twin beds weren’t built with enough space to house the two of them, so it’s a tight fit. They’re close enough that Kirishima can feel Bakugou’s hands twitch next to his until he pulls them out from under the covers to start typing on his laptop.
Kirishima has no clue why he’s holding his breath. He’s been close to Bakugou before, sure, but never to this extent. Never enough that their knees are side by side and his head is almost leaning on Bakugou’s shoulder. He hopes his gulp isn’t too loud in the quiet room as the movie loads.
Bakugou complains about the movie having a shitty script and even worse special effects, but Kirishima hears him lightly laugh a few times. He thinks he sees Bakugou glancing at him through the corners of his eyes every now and again, but he can’t be certain.
When the movie ends and the bowl of popcorn is left with nothing but crumbs, Kirishima feels reluctant to say goodnight. The credits are rolling on the screen with a catchy song that Bakugou mutes, saying it’s obnoxious and repetitive. Kirishima shifts away just a little bit, sitting up right so that he isn’t leaning against the headboard of the bed and Bakugou’s arm.
“I think you would rate that movie a solid ten out of ten,” Kirishima jokes. “Am I right, or am I right?”
“You’ve never been more wrong in your life,” Bakugou retorts. “It was like the creators were doped up the entire time they made this.”
Kirishima laughs at Bakugou’s critique, and then he twists around to pop his back after laying for so long. He looks at the time that is displayed on the corner of the laptop’s screen.
“Aw, it’s already gettin’ late. I don’t wanna keep you up when we have classes tomorrow,” Kirishima apologizes. He puts one foot on the floor as he begins to stand up. “I should probably go back to my room.”
“There’s still—” Bakugou looks like he’s about to reach a hand out to him, but he grabs at his sheets instead. “I don’t usually sleep for another hour, anyway. So if you wanna stick around I don’t care, I guess.”
Bakugou says that sounding like he does care, actually.
“Is this you willingly wanting to spend time with me?” Kirishima teases, smiling with his teeth.
“Forget it, you can leave,” Bakugou replies back like a grumpy child.
“No, no! I’m staying!” Kirishima scrambles to get back under the covers comfortably, probably sitting closer than he had been before. “What do you wanna watch? ‘Cause we already watched my movie.”
Bakugou grins wickedly as he begins typing on his laptop. He turns his head to the side slightly before he presses enter on whatever he’s searching up. “Horror movie sound good?”
A horror movie before bed is definitely going to make Kirishima scream like a frightened baby. But he’s manly, goddammit! So he nods along to agree, even though he ends up gripping Bakugou’s arm tightly on more than one occasion to shriek embarrassingly. At least Bakugou seems to find it amusing, snorting each time it happens.
From here on out it basically becomes routine for Bakugou to have his laptop ready for them to watch something after tutoring is done. It doesn’t matter if it’s a movie or some dumb videos off the internet, it keeps them shoulder to shoulder as well as warm and content regardless. And, that space is always empty on Bakugou’s bed like it’s Kirishima’s to claim.
It’s an easy rhythm to fall into.
Kirishima’s friends are starting to believe that he has some sort of hypnotic quirk that they don’t know about, what with the way he’s able to convince Bakugou to join class gatherings. (If the joke spreads any further, Todoroki might start connecting strings on a board between him and Shinsou.) According to Bakugou, a trip to the mall with all their classmates is something comparable to visiting hell itself. Still, the second Kirishima ups his charm, folds his hands, and asks Bakugou to come along, the blond is suddenly already choosing an outfit to wear.
“Maybe you’re the Bakugou-whisperer,” Kaminari jokes one afternoon as he exits a shop with Kirishima.
Bakugou is walking ahead and holding a bag of whatever he bought, as well as Kirishima’s purchase since Kirishima is “too clumsy to hold both a smoothie and a tote at the same time.” He smiles at Bakugou for being caring in a roundabout way, and then he directs a raised eyebrow to Kaminari.
“He’s not a wild animal, dude.”
“I know, but I asked him to join us and he said fuck no. And then you ask him two seconds later and he’s on board. Like, what gives?” Kaminari bumps his arm against Kirishima’s.
Sure, Bakugou speaks crassly and acts abrasively, but Kirishima sees beyond that. He sees the boy that stays up late just to make sure he gets back from his internship safely, rewarding him with a smile on days where things go well, something that the others hardly ever get to see. And on days where things go badly, Bakugou is there as a shoulder to cry on, to speak words of reassurance into his ears. He sees the boy that tutors him with a surprising amount of patience, reviewing concepts until it is certain that he understands everything. He sees his best friend, who works hard to achieve the goals he has set for himself, an endless amount of determination that is admirable beyond a doubt.
And believe Kirishima, Bakugou is far from perfect, but that doesn’t change the way he views him. Even when Bakugou breaks down, questioning his value as both a person and a hero, Kirishima comforts him by saying that there is no one else on the face of the earth that can possibly hold a candle to him. He tells Bakugou that he’s the best person he’s ever met, and that he knows Bakugou will amount to great things in life. Even when Bakugou acts out of line, he always says sorry in his own way, either through quiet apologies or generous actions. It is easy to see how much he tries to grow to be better, to treat others and himself kinder.
“Best friend privileges,” Kirishima eventually says back with a bragging tilt to his voice, sounding a bit airy. Kaminari groans about that being unfair.
Bakugou calls back and tells them to hurry the hell up, threatening to ditch them if they walk any slower. Kirishima skips along to join him at his side, smiling gleefully as he sips from his smoothie.
“Thought that shit was supposed to energize you,” Bakugou grumbles. “At the rate we’re walkin’, we’re gonna miss the bus ride back.”
“Someone sounds grumpy that he didn’t get a smoothie of his own,” Kirishima says with a laugh. It was sweet of Bakugou to wait in line with him earlier while ordering this, though, so he extends the cup over to his friend. “Do you want some?”
Bakugou looks at Kirishima’s face and then at the pink smoothie being offered to him like it is personally offensive. “Hell no, you probably spit in it or some crap.”
“Why would I spit in my own drink?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Bakugou’s face is brighter than usual, like he doesn’t know what excuse to say that sounds valid. “Your mouth was on it!”
Kirishima starts to laugh. “So that automatically means I spit into my own food?!”
Bakugou doesn’t come up with a smart remark to that because Kaminari finally catches up and claps a hand onto Bakugou’s shoulder.
“Sounds like Kacchan’s afraid of cooties,” Kaminari pesters, wiggling his fingers at Bakugou’s face as he oohs. Bakugou elbows him in the stomach.
“I swear I don’t have cooties,” Kirishima jokingly assures. “I think the doctors woulda broken the news to me by now if I did.”
“You’re so stupid,” Bakugou replies. He moves all the shopping bags to one hand and uses his free one to snatch the drink away from Kirishima. “Gimme that.”
Taking a big sip out of the same straw as Kirishima, Bakugou drinks the smoothie and then hands it back roughly.
“There, nothin’ to it,” Bakugou says snappily while mostly facing Kaminari. “Now can we get a fuckin’ move on? The other extras are already outside the mall waitin’ for us. Place is like a goddamn maze.”
Kirishima looks down at his smoothie, then at Bakugou’s face, which is pointed away but very visibly decorated in red. Dumbly, Kirishima feels like his cheeks are becoming a very similar shade.
“Do you want to try mine?” Kaminari asks, shoving his own chocolate smoothie in front of Bakugou’s face.
“Either move that thing away from me or I’m gonna throw it onto the ground.”
“Yeesh, touchy.” Kaminari sips his smoothie, not looking bothered by Bakugou’s response at all. “Chocolate is better than strawberry, so just know you’re missing out.”
All Kirishima can think of is how Bakugou’s mouth probably has the same strawberry flavor as the drink now. It’s a stupid thought that Kirishima has to physically shake out of his head. He doesn’t know why that matters to him so much.
After a few more minutes of wandering around, Bakugou admits that they’re lost and finally looks at one of the mall maps that directs them outside. When the three of them walk through the mall doors, the AC overhead blows their hair back. Kirishima hardly ever gets to see Bakugou’s bangs pushed away, but he really does think his friend has the face of a model. He keeps that thought to himself, though. He’s sure that if Bakugou hears that, he’ll get his teeth punched in.
“There you are! Remember, we must adhere to timeliness so as to not worry our peers!” Iida says upon their arrival. “We also have a schedule to maintain!”
Their classmates are standing around on the sidewalk, now turning to the late-arriving company. Kirishima waves at them all sheepishly, sorry to keep them waiting.
“Tenya’s exaggerating,” Uraraka chimes. “We’ve only been out here for, what? Six minutes?”
Coincidentally, the bus pulls up at just about that exact moment, and they all clamber inside and take up the seats. During the ride, the sun peeks through the passing trees every few seconds, and the streets get less bumpy. Squished between Bakugou and the edge of the bench, Kirishima scoots closer to his friend.
“You have my bag,” Kirishima says, leaning a shoulder onto Bakugou. He points at one of the totes in Bakugou’s hand, the red one that he brought to the mall to carry his things.
Bakugou doesn't move away. “I’ll carry it up for you. Gotta help you put up your new poster so it doesn’t come out crooked or whatever.”
Kirishima grins down at his smoothie. Bakugou had pointed out a new Crimson Riot poster at one of the shops earlier, and Kirishima immediately went to purchase it. It’s not very often that new merch for his favorite hero comes out. He’s glad Bakugou drew attention to it, or else he would have walked right past it.
Rather than say thank you, Kirishima pushes his smoothie along to Bakugou. He glances up and their eyes meet, and Bakugou has a small tilt to the corner of his mouth as he accepts the drink. Kirishima tries to not feel so affected by it.
They pass the smoothie back and forth throughout the bus ride until they finish it together.
In hindsight, it seems inevitable that Kirishima falls for Bakugou.
It strikes him that he’s been harboring a crush on Bakugou while doing something as regular as stretching before a spar. They pair up together like they usually do on weekends, getting some extra training in. Bakugou insists that heroes need to be in their top shape, that they can’t afford to slack off just because they feel lazy on a Saturday. Kirishima, who would believe Bakugou if he said the earth is flat, feels inclined to agree, happily following him to the gym.
They’ve been working on a combo move, and Kirishima is sure that is what they’re going to be tweaking today. The technique is one where Bakugou propels Kirishima with a blast that moves him through the air in a spiral, sort of like a flying drill, so that his hardening can break through the wall he’s being launched at.
Kirishima drops his gym bag next to Bakugou’s in the same corner that they always occupy. It’s been their workout spot since autumn of freshman year, and even now one-quarter of the way through their third year it still is. The bench over here was once accidentally scorched by Bakugou and it’s a little dinged up from Kirishima falling against it one too many times. But, he likes to think of it as their bench, so he grins as he leaves his water bottle to sit on it. Before he can begin his toe-touches, Bakugou is standing in front of him with his arms crossed.
Waiting a couple of seconds, Kirishima eyes Bakugou’s troubled look and asks, “Uh, wassup, man?”
“Be careful with your arm,” Bakugou says. Then, he lays a hand out on Kirishima’s bandage that wraps around his forearm, his skin underneath cut up from a gash his hardening hadn’t been quick enough to defend from in a battle two nights ago.
It wasn’t a pretty fight, if any fight ever is; one of the villains had a camouflage quirk, and Kirishima didn’t know he was under attack until the knife was already in his arm. He hardened his skin as the weapon slashed against him, but the damage was still there. Even with the villain apprehended at the end of the night and Fat Gum telling him he did a good job handling the situation despite his injury, Kirishima was sent to get stitches and came home feeling disappointed in himself the next morning. Bakugou had caught up with him at the elevators and stayed with him in his room that night. Bakugou probably feels bad on Kirishima’s behalf, seeing as he still hasn’t fully healed.
“It’s fine, Recovery Girl healed most of it up for me!” Kirishima reassures him, putting a hand over Bakugou’s. He tries to smile, but Bakugou’s expression wavers because of it. “Really, I’m alright.”
“You know I don’t hold back in fights.” Bakugou chews his lip, squeezing Kirishima’s bandaged arm briefly before letting go. “But, if you need to take a break or, I don’t fuckin’ know, wanna do somethin’ else today instead of train, just tell me.” He looks at Kirishima, his eyes nothing but genuine and honest, even as the words come out mumbled. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
And there it is, the words that nearly make Kirishima sway and lose his footing. He may look calm and composed on the outside, but his heart rate picks up tenfold, and suddenly he feels as though everything is bright and crystal clear.
The fireworks burst inside of Kirishima’s chest, and everything clicks into place as his brain works out the fuzzy oomph-feeling that runs from his head to his toes. He looks at Bakugou, at the pink high on his cheeks and tips of his ears, at his best friend who he would do anything for, and he knows exactly what it means. With all of Bakugou’s rough edges and all of his soft sides, Kirishima knows he likes him, and that feeling will only continue to fester.
It freaks him out to have feelings that can put so much on the line, but at the same time it excites him. His hands fidget a little bit and he can feel his face heat, but he tries to remain natural.
“You could never hurt me, Bakugou,” Kirishima replies, a soft smile in place like it’s just a plain fact.
The smile is replicated onto Bakugou’s face. He looks beautiful, red cheeks matching the red of his eyes. He copies Kirishima’s signature pose, clanking his fists together with a chuckle.
“Fine, then,” Bakugou adds, voice tender and a touch unsteady. “Show me what you’ve got, Red.”
Perfecting a combo move isn’t easy, but Kirishima likes to think that he and Bakugou make excellent progress today. It’s as though working together is something they just click on, no words needed for them to operate. He compliments Bakugou for bettering his technique and shooting him further with a pinpointed blast. Bakugou is always incredible in every aspect of his nature, but his precision in hero work is a quality that leaves Kirishima amazed.
He sits on the bench and drinks from his water bottle, watching Bakugou walk over to him. He sweeps his eyes over Bakugou’s face, which is glistening with sweat and has his hair stuck to his forehead, and feels almost entranced. Also, Bakugou’s muscles cruelly stand out even more thanks to that tank top he wears that looks a smidge too tight.
Kirishima has never had this problem before, trying so hard to look anywhere else and willing his face to stop feeling so hot, but he never realized all his previously lingering glances were rooted in romantic feelings. Being aware of this only makes him feel more flustered, and he screws the cap of his water bottle shut to distract himself. He does it too hastily, though, and the cap falls and rolls across the floor of the gym.
Bakugou uses one hand to push his hair away from his face before bending down to pick up the bottle cap that has landed in front of his shoe. He walks closer now, holding a hand out and offering the cap back to Kirishima.
Grabbing it and hoping it doesn’t look like his hands are twitching too much when their fingers brush together, Kirishima compliments Bakugou. “You did amazing today.”
And, man, his voice sounds higher-pitched than usual, doesn’t it? He resists wincing at himself.
Bakugou plops down right beside him on the wobbly bench, hardly a centimeter of space between them. He rolls his shoulders and sighs, “That last blast wasn’t centered enough.”
Kirishima thinks it’s unfair that Bakugou’s quirk makes him smell almost like candy after a workout, somewhat like strong caramel and a hint of smoke. Meanwhile, Kirishima smells like a typical gymrat in need of a shower. It also doesn’t help that Bakugou’s proximity is suddenly making Kirishima sweat even more. He forces himself to pay attention to what his best friend is saying.
“I think it still worked out, though,” Kirishima reassures him. “Like, you still got me across the gym, and I was pretty close to the target!”
“Pretty close isn’t gonna cut it in battle. We can’t afford mistakes if we’re gonna be the best,” Bakugou grumbles.
The use of the word “we” causes Kirishima to blink twice in astonishment. He opens his mouth to respond, but it feels dry, leaving him unable to ask what he wants to ask. Thankfully, Bakugou catches his gaze and can understand the silent question, rolling forward with his own answer.
“I’m gonna be the number one hero no matter what,” Bakugou says, sounding completely sure of himself. He trails on, though, to add, “And you’re gonna be right there with me, obviously.”
Kirishima is touched, truly, to know that Bakugou sees them working together as something long term, not out of necessity from being classmates. He feels especially warmed by the notion of him apparently being good enough to stand beside Bakugou, to be someone of equal value.
Bashfully, Kirishima rubs the back of his neck and replies, “I don’t know about obviously. I’m not sure I can crack the top ten—”
“Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugou cuts him off, glaring. “You’ve got a better quirk than all the other idiots, and you’re damn dependable in a fight. You’ve got villains shittin’ their pants when they see you because you’re that good of a hero already. So shut the hell up.”
There’s no way his face isn’t burning red right now from Bakugou’s praise and attention.
Kirishima feels close to tears, his heart swelling with gratitude. If he hadn’t realized his crush before, he would definitely realize it now because of Bakugou’s expressive words. These compliments of his are always something Kirishima holds on to, even as vulgar as they are. He thinks it makes it sound more genuine.
He smiles at Bakugou in thanks, praying that his cheeks aren’t stupidly ruddy. Dropping his hands down onto either side of him, he holds onto the bench, one hand dangerously close to Bakugou’s but not bold enough to grab it.
“Y’know, I actually created Unbreakable because of you,” Kirishima admits. He keeps his eyes trained on his shoelaces in front of him but glances up after saying it, gauging Bakugou’s expression.
And Bakugou? Well, he looks stumped, eyes wide and brows drawn together, but intrigued nonetheless.
“What d’you mean?”
“It was probably, um, two years ago when I was, like, complaining about my quirk to you and the guys right before my internship,” he begins, looking upwards at the ceiling as he speaks. “You reminded me that I was your unbreakable horse during the sports festival, that I wasn’t behind anyone in class.”
He pauses and looks at Bakugou just to see him nod minisculely, letting Kirishima continue this dumb confession of his.
“Well, you told me I that if I refused to go down, then I’m stupidly strong. And when I went to face that villain on my debut night, I thought about those words… a lot.” Kirishima takes in a breath and lets it go, aiming a small smile at Bakugou. “It made me feel better and stronger about myself. I should have thanked you for inspiring me earlier. So… thanks.”
Kirishima thinks he can hear Bakugou gulp, and he notices that Bakugou’s face looks slightly more colorful than it did five minutes ago. He doesn’t know what to make of that.
“You did all that on your own,” Bakugou says back, crossing his arms. “I’m not stealin’ credit for your hard work.”
It’s always funny how Bakugou is all big-talk, boasting about how great he is, whether it’s in the aspect of his quirk, heroism, or literally anything else. Whenever people compliment him, he shrugs it off like, duh, of course he’s the best, how dare they think otherwise. But Kirishima has noticed that whenever he gives Bakugou a compliment, it makes him dismiss it, not seeing his achievement as something so groundbreaking. It’s unlike him to be so modest.
Kirishima’s smile becomes larger as he knocks a shoulder against Bakugou’s. “Just accept the compliment, dude.”
Bakugou breathes out heavily through his nose, kind of like a mad bull, but he relents in the end. “You’ve helped me with perfecting my Howitzer, so maybe we’re even.”
Kirishima swings his feet back and forth off the bench, turning his head. There’s no way he didn’t notice the degree to which he’s fallen for his best friend, not when he’s appreciating the tiny curve of Bakugou’s mouth and how Bakugou’s eyes sliding to his suddenly makes it feel like his heart is thundering away.
“You’re welcome,” he says back dumbly, holding a fist out for Bakugou to bump.
Bakugou scoffs humorously and bumps his fist against Kirishima’s. “Yeah, you’re welcome, too.”
After a few more months of rigorous hero training and then an onslaught of final exams, third year is practically over. Not to toot his own horn, but Kirishima is feeling particularly positive about his performances. He’s been spending every spare minute he has at the gym to improve his hardening durability just to be prepared, and with that work he now can hold Unbreakable for an additional fifteen seconds.
Kaminari had been timing him when it first happened, holding a stopwatch and sitting cross legged in front of where Kirishima was standing.
“Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty,” Kaminari had counted. He’d glanced up, ready to click the stopwatch at Kirishima’s usual time. But as Kirishima maintained his form, Kaminari had wide eyes as he continued, now more excited. “Forty-one! Forty-two! Holy shit!”
Kirishima had felt a smile breaking free, probably looking frightening with his hardened face. Holding Unbreakable was always a bit more on the strenuous side of his quirk, so he’d felt a little exhausted already. But, he muscled through and stayed still so that he didn't falter. Keeping this form while not moving was obviously going to last longer than when he’s actively fighting and on the move, but progress is progress! This was opening bigger doors for him, he’d hoped.
“Fifty-four! Fifty-five!”
Kirishima released his quirk, sucking in a deep breath as he had done so. The rippling of his hardening cascaded down his neck and arms, turning his skin back to its smooth self instead of jagged and rocky. He grinned at Kaminari in a way to ask for his results.
“Kiri, what the hell! Fifty-five seconds!” Kaminari scrambled up from his place on the floor, putting his hands on Kirishima’s shoulders and shaking him. “That was so fucking awesome!”
They had jumped around like dumb kids to celebrate, which earned the attention of their other classmates in the gym. Yaoyorozu was in the middle of congratulating Kirishima on his milestone when Bakugou walked over with furrowed brows, no doubt confused on what the big deal was. He looked like he must have paused his spar with Uraraka to come over and ask. As Kirishima smiled through the news, he could have sworn Bakugou seemed almost more thrilled about the breakthrough than even Kirishima himself had felt.
Even now, Kirishima feels himself blush just remembering the bone-crushing hug Bakugou had wrangled him into.
Back to the topic at hand, though, exams were a breeze, especially with Bakugou’s help in learning the material. All the extra tutoring sessions (and additional movie breaks afterwards) felt like time well spent. He’s been pushing himself for the last three years for this moment, to become a full-fledged hero now that school is out of the way. It’s just weird to think about how now that graduation is around the corner the dorms will be vacated, and all of Kirishima’s friends will no longer be an elevator-ride away. Or in Bakugou’s case, right next door.
He tries not to feel so down in the dumps about not seeing his friends twenty-four-seven, instead choosing to enjoy the moment as they all lounge around in the living room. He leans back against the sofa and tunes into whatever racing video game is being played on the TV. Kaminari is sitting on the floor in front of him, twisting and moving every two seconds like jostling the controller will help him win. Todoroki is perched on the edge of the arm rest, frowning at the controller like he isn’t really sure what he’s doing, and he’s receiving tips from Sero on what buttons to press. Uraraka seems to be taking the lead, looking entirely focused on the game even with Ashido cheering loudly in her ears.
Aside from those three, the rest of Kirishima’s classmates are eating their dinners at the tables and conversing with one another, or they are watching from other seats. Midoriya is sitting beside him and smashing every button on his controller, and Kirishima laughs because he’s not sure if that’s a strategic choice or just pure desperation. He warns Midoriya that his character is going off the map, and somehow Todoroki seems to bypass him.
“Move it, Deku,” a voice calls from behind.
Kirishima grins immediately in recognition, looking back at Bakugou, who is standing there with his arms crossed. Their eyes meet and Bakugou’s bored frown mimics a smile for a brief second.
Midoriya glances back before quickly fixating on the screen again. “Wait, I’m— I’m in the middle of a race!”
Bakugou seems to not care about that reasoning, hopping over the back of the sofa and wedging himself between Kirishima and Midoriya. It’s not even one of the big sofas, either; it’s the two-seater, which means Kirishima is up against the other armrest and has Bakugou practically draped over him.
“I think your knee is in my ribs,” Midoriya complains, still jamming the controller’s buttons and trying to scoot away as Bakugou nudges his knee out more aggressively.
“Then fuckin’ sit somewhere else,” Bakugou responds, having no problem stealing Midoriya’s seat and banishing him to sit on the floor with Kaminari. Bakugou also then glances at Todoroki, who is still perched on the armrest closest to Bakugou. “And you too.”
“I’m not even taking up any space,” Todoroki points out. He’s handed the controller to Sero now, having apparently given up on competing in the game.
With a grunt, Bakugou mutters something about not wanting to share the same air as Todoroki, so he leans further away from him. This, however, leaves Kirishima flustered like a fool, cheeks warming because of Bakugou practically being half on him, their shoulders overlapping and legs brushing against each other. Combined with the warmth emanating from his friend, Kirishima feels suddenly like the hoodie he has on is blazing hot.
Kirishima makes it through another eleven minutes of staring at the TV and not absorbing anything playing out on the screen. He spends the entire time overthinking if Bakugou’s hand laying next to his leg is an open invitation to grab or if he’s starting to get too wishful in his daydreams. That train of thought is completely interrupted by a voice speaking all too closely to his ear.
“Wanna eat dinner already? I’m fuckin’ bored of this,” Bakugou says, the words leaving his mouth in a warm exhale that leaves Kirishima dizzy.
Bakugou is so close that if Kirishima were to turn his head, he’s sure their noses would bump together. If that were to happen, Kirishima is positive that his heart would definitely pick up so fast that they’d have to call an ambulance. Is Bakugou even aware of the effect he has on Kirishima, or is that smug look something else entirely?
Biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself in order, Kirishima looks at Bakugou through the corner of his eyes and smiles as normally as possible. “Do I get to pick the food?”
“You get to pick when you fuckin’ cook it for yourself,” Bakugou retorts, standing up and jumping over the back of the sofa. He tugs on the sleeve of Kirishima’s hoodie to pull him up as well.
Kirishima is successfully stolen from the sofa, pardoning himself from the group as he follows after Bakugou. Nobody seems phased to see the two of them leave together, practically paying them no mind as they continue on with their racing tournament. From the adjacent kitchen, he can hear his friends yelling at the TV and at each other, some backseat-gaming and others cheering. It makes for good background noise as Bakugou pulls open the fridge and cupboards with excessive force, arranging his ingredients for tonight’s dinner loudly on the counters.
Being a gracious best friend, Kirishima starts chopping up an onion so that Bakugou can prepare other things, but Bakugou laughs at him, raising an eyebrow and saying he has terrible knife-skills. Kirishima sticks his tongue out at Bakugou, jokingly calling him ungrateful and blaming the onion tears on him. Bakugou says he’d cry too if he chopped onions as sloppily as that.
With Bakugou, it’s practically guaranteed that everything they do together will be more interesting, and Kirishima swears this isn’t just his crush-goggles convincing him of this. Bakugou is loud and demands everyone’s attention without even having to try, but these quieter moments with him feel just as important. Maybe it’s because they can find a similar balance between each other, or maybe it’s the confident charm Bakugou possesses that makes everything seem larger than life.
And it’s dumb, really, but Kirishima could trade a life of fame and glory for an eternity of doing something as simple as just slicing an onion if it means he gets to spend it with Bakugou.
The ceremony starts in less than an hour, and Kirishima wonders if it’s even possible to get cold feet for graduation. A whole chapter of his life is coming to a close, and as excited as he is to get out there and enjoy everything he’s been working his ass off for, he’s nervous. He’s nervous over how he can keep in contact with all his friends once everyone is busy with their jobs. He’s nervous over whether he's really good enough to take on the title of a Pro Hero. He’s nervous over going up the wrong steps and tripping on the stairs when he goes to retrieve his diploma.
Perhaps his worrying is loud enough that it can be heard between walls because Bakugou is barging into his room without so much as knocking, leaning against the door with his arms crossed as his eyes sweep over Kirishima. Bakugou looks like he’s about to reprimand him for being so slow to get ready, but his eyes soften slightly once they reach Kirishima’s face.
“You didn’t spike your hair up,” Bakugou says, sounding a little surprised.
“Kinda hard to put the hat on if I do.” Kirishima smoothes down the flyaway hairs from his ponytail as he asks, “Does it look good?”
“Yeah, you look fuckin’, uh—” Bakugou clears his throat. “You look good. It’s just different from your usual style.”
“Aw, Bakugouuuuuu. Do you actually like it when I do my hair up?” Kirishima teases.
Bakugou narrows his eyes, looking ready to probably tell Kirishima to fuck off. Instead, his face looks flushed as he says, “You always say it’s not that different from my hair, so whatever.”
Now it’s Kirishima’s turn to blush — the concept of Bakugou liking them to match is all too much for him to bear. The two of them are stuck in a weird staring contest that Kirishima cannot decipher the energy of, but it still makes him feel all dumb and tingly inside. Bakugou breaks eye contact first, looking at the muscle clock hanging off the wall.
“We gotta be in our seats soon and the auditorium is all the way across campus,” Bakugou points out, clearly changing the conversation. “You ready to do this thing?”
Kirishima exhales and mumbles out an “Mhmm” as he dusts off his suit and meets with Bakugou at the door.
“Kirishima.” Bakugou digs, apparently wasting no time with the odd reply.
Shutting the door behind them, Kirishima steps out into the hallway as Bakugou continues to give him a look that screams “spit it out already.” He tries to ignore it, but Bakugou’s glare is relentless, so by the time they reach the auditorium’s building and Bakugou repeats his name with the same tone as before, Kirishima rubs the back of his neck out of habit and shrugs.
“Ugh, I dunno. I’ve got, like, the jitters or something.”
“The jitters…” Bakugou repeats, voice flat and clearly mocking Kirishima’s word choice.
“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t feel a little nervous too,” Kirishima says back, lightly shoving at Bakugou’s shoulders.
“I’m not nervous, I’m relieved. I finally get to be a damn hero without havin’ to get a permission slip to leave during class.” Bakugou shoves Kirishima back harder, then adds, “Don’t get all stuck in your head now.”
Kirishima sighs and takes that as advice to relax. To lighten the conversation, he jokes, “I don’t have to have some big speech planned out for when I get on stage, right?”
“You’re pickin’ up a diploma, not a damn Oscar. Were you asleep during rehearsal?” Bakugou asks, sounding a little baffled and incredulous.
Kirishima is about to say that, no, he did not fall asleep during rehearsal — he just so happened to have been talking with Kaminari the whole time instead. He replies this answer to Bakugou, but trails off toward the end as he glances over and notices how his friend’s tie is all askew, and it’s secured so loosely that it looks like it could come undone by a lone breeze.
“Your tie is crooked. Ya look like a slob,” Kirishima decides to joke. The words are teasing, reminiscent of what Bakugou says whenever Kirishima isn’t matching his clothes correctly in terms of colors or patterns. With an exaggerated tut, Kirishima adds, “What will your parents think?”
“Fuck you, I’m dressed to the fuckin’ nines,” Bakugou says back, pulling at his own tie in emphasis but not fixing it in the slightest.
Without really thinking it through, Kirishima decides to adjust it himself. He pauses their walk and grabs hold of Bakugou’s suit jacket to keep him still for a moment, then he moves over so that he can stand facing Bakugou. He undoes the tie and begins remaking it slowly, forbidding his eyes to move even a centimeter away from where his hands are working. He would absolutely stand no chance glancing up to meet Bakugou’s face, unsure of what sight would be bestowed upon him. Bafflement? Curiosity? Appreciation? Kirishima knows that he would melt and pass out on the spot if he even spots a figment of a blush adorning Bakugou’s face right now.
He curses himself for pulling the most cliche and lame move ever.
“Figures that you don’t know how to do this,” Kirishima says lightly, overlapping the neck and tail of the tie and making it neat as he pulls it into a knot. “You didn’t wear a tie, like, all of first year, so you’re missing out on a year’s worth of experience here.”
“Are you done?” Bakugou’s eye roll is basically audible, but Kirishima doesn’t miss the way his breath sounds a little caught.
“Yup!” Kirishima replies, dropping hold of Bakugou’s tie and then brushing off the shoulders of Bakugou’s suit as he steps away. In a nervous move, he flaps his hands and stupidly blurts out, “There! Now you look even more handsome.”
Kirishima freezes in place after the words fall out of his mouth, and he stands there like a buffoon with his hands still half raised. Bakugou looks similarly speechless, staring at him with wide eyes and a red face that Kirishima begs to not be from anger.
Scrambling to get out of this situation that is making him look like a total idiot, Kirishima laughs like he’s being held at gunpoint to do so, walking away at a brisk pace, keeping his eyes set on the end of the hallway where the auditorium doors are located. After a few seconds, he can hear Bakugou’s footsteps catching up behind him.
It is a long, long hallway, like where are the goddamn doors in here?! It’s been going on forever! (It’s been like six seconds.) The weird silence makes Kirishima want to slap himself in the face over this, but he doesn’t want to appear crazier than he has already made himself seem.
Like a beacon hailing him, Kirishima spots someone up ahead and hurries his stride. Yaoyorozu is waiting by the auditorium doors, and she appears to be engrossed in a conversation with Kaminari that comes to a halt once the two spot Kirishima and Bakugou.
“Oh good! You both made it on time,” Yaoyorozu smiles at them, pushing one of the doors open so they can enter. “Mr.Aizawa is arranging our class in alphabetical order, so please make sure to meet with him to get placed in line.”
As he and Bakugou get separated into their corresponding spots, Bakugou knocks an elbow against Kirishima’s side and gruffly mumbles, “See you after the ceremony.” His cheeks still look a little pink.
Kirishima only trusts himself to nod along, lest there be any more word vomit.
Kaminari pretends to look at a watch on his wrist and then he whistles. “Cutting it a little close there, guys. What were you two up to?”
Bakugou answers something along the lines of, “None of your business, Sparky,” as Kirishima forces another laugh.
When Bakugou is further away and being told to stand next to Asui in line, Kaminari leans against Kirishima and tilts his head as he asks, “Why is your face so red?”
Unable to come up with an answer that isn’t as colossally embarrassing as “I told Bakugou he looks super handsome straight to his face,” Kirishima covers his face with his hands and groans.
At the lack of a normal response, Kaminari’s eyebrows fly upwards and he gasps. “Did you two…?!”
Kirishima peeks through his fingers and sees Kaminari make a crude gesture with his hands, so he immediately pushes Kaminari’s hands down so that nobody else can see. “Kami, dude, I love you, but oh my God shut up.”
Kaminari found out about Kirishima’s giant crush on Bakugou soon after their mall trip last year, saying that Kirishima had basically been drooling out of his mouth whenever Bakugou entered the room. Kirishima prays that Kaminari had been exaggerating about that.
“But what happened?” Kaminari continues to prod, not-so-subtly glancing to and from Kirishima and Bakugou. “Did you two fight?”
“What? No.”
Following Kaminari down the line to their seats, Kirishima exhales and sees Bakugou looking at him before turning right back around in his seat, which is a few rows ahead. Someone on stage taps on a microphone and begins an introduction of the event, saying that the ceremony will commence in a few minutes.
“Is it, like, superduper mega embarrassing, then?”
“Ugh, yes.”
Slouching down in his seat, Kirishima leans next to Kaminari and lowers his voice as he retells the encounter to his friend. He shields his whispers with a hand, and he hopes that the bustling chatter in the auditorium keeps anyone from overhearing.
(Midoriya is two seats away, not exactly eavesdropping but also not exactly not eavesdropping — he can’t help it! Having been privy to Bakugou’s seemingly unnamed cluster of feelings for Kirishima for the last two years, he shoots Bakugou an innocent nudge of a text saying “nice tie.” There’s a text immediately responding “shut the hell up” with an abundant amount of middle-finger emojis.)
When graduation passes, Kirishima mentions to Bakugou that they should move into an apartment together. He asks it over the phone as he sits in his childhood bedroom and looks at places on his laptop, not wanting to freeload off of his parents for too long now that he’s officially a Pro Hero and all. He worries it’s an out of the blue suggestion, that maybe this is something they should have discussed before leaving UA. And yet, it takes absolutely zero convincing for Bakugou, who pretends to think it over, to say yes.
They start searching through listings that same night over a video call, and Bakugou seems about as excited as Kirishima feels. Bakugou looks at all the important shit while Kirishima asks if it has a gym or is pet-friendly. He jokes that his priorities are more important than any other included utilities — like, what if he finds a stray cat? Bakugou tells him he doesn’t want their apartment to become a zoo.
Eventually, the hunt comes to a conclusion and they find an apartment they like, something right near the heart of Musutafu with a generous amount of living space. Between a couple of phone calls and bank trips, it’s officially under their names not long after.
“Big moment right now,” Kirishima says, dangling the apartment keys between his fingers. The wooden door in front of him looks weathered yet inviting. “Historical moment, actually.”
“Just open the damn door already,” Bakugou complains, jostling his occupied hands that are holding bags of takeout food.
Kirishima hardly finishes twisting the key through the lock before Bakugou pushes the door wide open with a heavy kick from his boot. Inside, the apartment is spacious enough, though that might be because it is currently so empty. The only furniture in here is a shabby wooden table (which is now housing the takeout bags) and its matching chairs. All their own furniture is in the moving truck downstairs, but they’ll start bringing that up the elevator after they finish their meal.
Closing the door behind him, Kirishima tosses the keys onto the table and sinks down onto one of the wooden chairs. As he ruffles through the takeout bag to grab his own pork bowl and napkins, he taps the table in excitement.
“Your birthday’s comin’ up. I got you a super cool gift, by the way. No spoilers.”
Bakugou raises an eyebrow as he sits down. There’s a tiny smile on his face. “Really?”
It’s a custom hiking stick with an orange paracord wrapped around the top where the handle is. The sides are laser cut to have “Katsuki Bakugou” engraved on one side and “Dynamight” on the other. He and Bakugou haven’t been able to go hiking in a while, but the last time they went Bakugou’s old stick broke on the bottom and left a splintered crack up to the center. It’s long overdue a replacement, so hopefully this one is good enough.
Kirishima nods and then adds, “Oh! Maybe we can call everybody over to celebrate!”
“I’m not havin’ a birthday party, and I’m definitely not gonna host one here either,” Bakugou counters. He then gestures a hand around to the rest of the apartment. “And the place is fuckin’ empty right now. The hell is everyone gonna do? Sit on the floor and play spin the bottle?”
“Sounds like party of the year to me,” Kirishima says just to bug Bakugou.
Bakugou’s laugh is covered by a snort. “You’re so dumb.”
The food isn’t the most spectacular tasting thing in the world (it’s hard to compare anything to the brilliance of Bakugou’s cooking), but it’s also not half bad. Kirishima thinks it’s funny when Bakugou scrunches his nose and criticizes the food’s saltiness, claiming they shouldn’t order from there ever again since the chef is apparently an “unskilled bastard.”
Kirishima’s eyes roam around the room, imagining where the couch is going to go and picturing him and Bakugou relaxing on it after a long day. He sees himself cooking breakfast as Bakugou wanders out from the hall to complain about the smell of slightly burned pancakes. He looks back down at his takeout meal and glances at Bakugou beside him, still making faces at his own meal, and tries not to laugh. When Bakugou asks what’s so funny, Kirishima busies himself with eating some more, not willing to admit aloud that Bakugou looks cute while poking his tongue out at his food.
With their stomachs filled, he and Bakugou start unloading the truck they are renting. Kirishima takes as many boxes as he can lift at once, wanting to minimize how many times he goes up and down the elevator. Bakugou argues that he’s going to drop it all like a clumsy dumbass, as if he isn’t doing the exact same thing.
“I don’t know if I should stick with Jeanist or switch to Mirko’s agency,” Bakugou sighs, dropping one of the heavier boxes with a thud right at the entrance of their apartment. Hopefully it isn’t anything fragile. “I wanted to open my own place up so I wouldn’t have to work under someone else anymore, but I don’t have the fuckin’ cash or status for that yet.”
To be honest, Kirishima hasn’t thought about transferring out of Fat Gum’s agency. He’s happy working with Amajiki and Tetsutetsu, and having done so for years has just made him entirely used to it, which makes it easy for them to work in tandem. Plus, Yaoyorozu recently switched over from working with Mt. Lady, so he’s been enjoying catching up and getting lunch with her. She makes for a kickass fighting partner, too.
But as far as Kirishima knows, Bakugou has always wanted to have an agency of his own, saying he’s sick of following other people’s rules and schedules, that he wants to make a name for himself. Though, with the tenacity and determination Bakugou follows everything through with, Kirishima has no doubt Bakugou will be able to achieve these things. He’s sure Bakugou will ask Midoriya and Todoroki to work with him, seeing as they are accustomed to fighting together thanks to their time with Endeavor. (Also because they are his close friends, even if Bakugou won’t say it out loud.)
And if that invitation also gets extended to Kirishima in the future, well… he actually wouldn’t mind making the switch if he really thinks about it.
“You’re already super popular though!” Kirishima replies after giving it some thought, dropping his stack of boxes on top of the one Bakugou just set down. He dusts his hands off and then faces Bakugou with a smile. “‘Sides, you’re just startin’ out. You’re gonna be topping the hero charts in no time, and then you can make the best agency ever!”
Bakugou appears uncharacteristically bashful for a moment before grumbling, “Hawks became the number two Pro Hero with a top agency at twenty two years old.”
Kirishima hums, and then he knocks a fist into Bakugou’s shoulder reassuringly. “Well, then I guess you have four years to beat his record. Piece of cake.”
“Yeah. Piece of cake,” Bakugou agrees, his voice sounding appreciative. He grins more confidently as the two of them make their way back downstairs to get the last of the boxes. “I bet I can do it in three years. I’ll show that damn bird that I’m fuckin’ better than him.”
Glad to hear Bakugou sounding sure of himself once again, Kirishima breaks into another smile and claps Bakugou on the back. “That’s more like it!”
Once everything is brought in, he and Bakugou bicker over who gets the room with the bigger window. In a never-ending tieing game of rock paper scissors, Kirishima loses and Bakugou gloats about winning, saying that it’s not his fault Kirishima always picks rock the most. Kirishima doesn’t really care about which room he gets, but he jokingly calls for a rematch, to which Bakugou quickly turns down, too busy moving his boxes into his new room. Taking his things to his own room, Kirishima laughs lightly to himself and finds it kind of funny that their rooms are in the same order as they were at the UA dorms, with Bakugou still to his left.
It’s their first night at their new place, so nothing is exactly set up in the most practical way. They sleep on Bakugou’s mattress since Kirishima’s new one hasn’t arrived yet. There isn’t even a bed frame installed; it is just a mattress laying flat on the ground in a room full of boxes. The AC is turned up, something about Bakugou not wanting to sweat so fucking much in his sleep, so the whole apartment is kind of chilly right now. Not one to mind the cold, Kirishima doesn’t complain about Bakugou being the biggest blanket hog in the world.
“G’night, Bakugou,” Kirishima mumbles tiredly, turning to lay on his side.
“Night.” Bakugou shifts as well, facing Kirishima. He looks grumpy from being awake for so long today, but Kirishima thinks it’s kind of cute. With his eyes shut, Bakugou yawns out, “Don’t snore too loud or I’ll kill you.”
“I’m just gonna snore louder to annoy you now,” Kirishima says back in a humorous whisper. Bakugou kicks him under the covers.
It’s not all that awkward or weird to share a bed with Bakugou anymore. Considering all the times one of them has slept over because of nightmares or from movie nights running on too late, it’s actually quite comfortable between them to share a space like this. Kirishima feels dumb as he continues to grin at Bakugou even though his friend isn’t looking at him right now. He repeats his goodnight and gets a mumble in response, which is surprising because it usually takes Bakugou way longer to fall asleep.
Turning over to lay on his back, Kirishima readjusts the slipping covers to go over Bakugou’s shoulders again. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes of staring at the ceiling for his eyelids to grow heavy, being lulled to sleep peacefully.
Kirishima awakens at sometime close to three in the morning thanks to Bakugou’s restless stirring, and an arm is thrown over his waist to tug him closer. As he lets himself be pulled in for a cuddle, he roams his eyes over Bakugou’s peaceful face, relaxed from sleep and looking almost porcelain because of the moonlight that bleeds through the slightly-open window curtains. He notices the mess of wild blond hair looking fluffier than usual and finds it adorable because of the way the mattress presses against it. Bakugou’s lips look soft, and Kirishima’s eyes linger on them. The cheek Bakugou has laying against his pillow is squished, which leaves his mouth open to drool a little. Bakugou’s skin, littered in different scars and a handful of beauty marks, seems artistic. Kirishima feels vexed, wanting to reach out to touch and see if what he’s looking at is actually real, but he doesn’t move a muscle.
He then realizes that his crush on Bakugou is more intense than he had originally thought.