Chapter Text
“Bakugou! We’re on stage in ten, where the hell are you?!”
Katsuki breathed out a puff of smoke before rolling his eyes. He could just barely hear Kaminari yelling for him inside, and he was sure the blonde was running around frantically, as he always did before a performance.
They all had their pre-show rituals: Kaminari’s was hyping up everyone in the band - as a good lead guitarist should - and drinking way too many energy drinks. Kirishima, the bassist, always disappeared without a word and reappeared right before it was time to get set, and Katsuki had no idea what he did or where he went. Sero always stretched and re-taped their keyboard - which had been practically falling apart since Katsuki met them and seemed to only still be in one piece because of multiple layers of colorful duct tape. Their other guitarist, Jirou, usually kept to herself, headphones in while she meditated, going over the entirety of their rep and obsessing over her equipment and guitar.
And Katsuki’s was as simple as a cigarette.
It was cold outside in the alleyway where Katsuki stood, surrounded by empty shipping crates and half-full dumpsters. It was early November, and a wet layer of slush coated the ground, which squished satisfyingly as he shifted his weight from leg to leg. The sun had already set, and it was barely lit here, just a single yellow entry light above the back door to the bar. But it was just enough to make the graffiti on the surrounding brick walls visible, decorated with all sorts of tags from previous bands and performers that had played the venue before them. It was pretty, in a dirty, back alley kind of way, and he couldn’t help but wonder briefly if one day their band’s name would be up there as well.
Katsuki cursed, dropping his smoke and snuffing it out with a twist of his boot. He hated having his break cut short, but if he waited any longer Kami would come looking for him, and he wasn’t about to give up his hiding spot so easily. Especially now that the “Fat Gum Bar” was a recurring gig for them.
He turned to walk back towards the door, and stopped as he saw a figure approaching him. Katsuki stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed. “Don’t worry Kami, I’m coming, just give me a-” His words trailed off as he looked up, startled to see none other than Kirishima greeting him with a slight wave.
“Light me one,” the other guy grinned.
Katsuki gave him a look of surprise. He was sure he’d come to fetch him for Kaminari, but he answered his request anyway.
“You smoke?” Katsuki asked.
“Occasionally. Usually not cigs though,” he replied. Katsuki shrugged, handing him the square.
Katsuki watched Kirishima as he pulled out his own lighter from his pocket and cupped his hand to light the end. As he held the cigarette delicately between his teeth, Katsuki quietly looked him up and down.
He was wearing a bright red flannel over a dark gray tank top, sleeves rolled up past the elbows, and Katsuki briefly wondered how he was able to handle the chilled air. His arm was completely inked in one of the most beautiful tattoos Katsuki had ever seen; a snake wrapped around his warm tanned skin, bright red flowers filling in a pattern of scales and petals. It ran all the way up to the side of his neck, around which hung a shark tooth necklace. His left arm was also covered in a full sleeve of traditional Japanese wave patterns, and his ears heavy with piercings. In all honesty, Katsuki envied his style. He desperately wanted to get piercings and maybe even one day some ink himself, if only he wasn’t so deathly terrified of needles.
But what stood out the most about Kirishima was his hair: long and raven black, the ends dyed cherry red and pulled into a high ponytail. A white bandana held back some of his bangs, but most of his hair still hung in his face, half hiding warm reddish-brown eyes and an, admittedly, manly looking scar on his right side. Katuski loved Kirishima’s hair… In a not weird way, of course. Something about the long grown-out roots fit him really well and framed his face perfectly. It looked so soft and smooth, and the messy way he tied it up looked so casual yet effortlessly stylish.
Katsuki shook his head. Where did those thoughts even come from? Was he seriously daydreaming about his bandmate’s hair? That was weird even for him. Katsuki snapped back to reality as Kirishima pocketed his lighter and handed him back the box.
He let out his first breath of smoke, nodded to Katsuki, and smiled. "Thanks, man."
“Sure,” Katsuki replied, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The two stood in semi-awkward silence for a short while, Kirishima periodically inhaling and exhaling little smoke rings. If Katsuki didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked like Kirishima was showing off. But the bassist was entertaining himself, a soft smile on his face, smoking away his own nerves as Katsuki was all too familiar with.
“This what you always do?” Kirishima ended the silence suddenly. Katsuki turned to look at him as he took in another deep breath.
“Before shows?”
“Yeah.”
“...Usually.”
He let the smoke escape his mouth. “It’s nice… Quiet. Settles the nerves.”
“You get nervous before you perform?” Katsuki asked him, honestly a little taken aback. Kirishima had never seemed the type to get nervous about anything.
“Of course,” Kirishima replied with a slight chuckle, “who doesn’t?”
“Fair,” Katsuki nodded. He glanced back over to the graffiti on the walls, his eyes tracing the script to keep his mind off of the strange tension he was starting to feel standing so close to Kirishima out here in the cold. They didn’t talk often one on one, not since that first time they’d met anyways, and it didn’t help that he was simultaneously so friendly and aloof that Bakugou could hardly read the guy.
“What about you Red?” he asked, before immediately regretting it.
Kirishima turned his head slightly. “...What about me?”
“What do you normally do before you perform?”
He blinked, looking genuinely surprised, before giving Katsuki a wide smile. “Why do you ask?”
“Well I mean, this is only my like, what, fourth time performing with you guys since I joined? You just usually aren’t around before we go on, guess I was just curious if you had a ritual of your own like the rest of ‘em.” For some reason he felt weird asking such a personal question. But Kirishima didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed finally intrigued in the conversation.
“I do,” he said, seeming to briefly think it over. “I could show you if you want.”
Katsuki furrowed his brows, confused. “I mean, sure...?”
Kirishima grinned, taking in another long breath of the cigarette. He took a step towards him, and before Katsuki could register what was happening, Kirishima's lips were on his own.
Katsuki’s eyes immediately shot open wide. Kirishima’s hand moved to Katsuki’s face, fingers brushing the ends of his blonde hair. The smoke that had been in his mouth escaped in what remaining space was between them, the rest filling Katsuki’s own mouth and lungs. He gasped for air, and Kirishima let him, but only for a brief second before their lips connected again.
Katsuki allowed his eyes to flutter closed, his arms hanging stiff at his sides. He could feel Kirishima’s tongue against his own as he pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together. How long were they standing there? Seconds? Minutes? Katsuki couldn’t tell. His entire body felt hot, despite the crisp autumn air, and the thought of performing was nothing more than a distant memory.
Eventually Kirishima pulled away, slowly, but stayed leaned in close. Katsuki could feel his hot breath on his cheek as he spoke. “Except... I usually don’t know their name.”
Kastuki found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. “Wha- I- Um.. Fuck, dude?!” He took a step back, breaking out of his arms, terrifyingly conscious of the fact that his face was slowly turning the same shade as the ends of Kirishima’s hair.
Kirishima gave him a toothy smirk, his eyes scrunched in his smile. “Wha-ha-at? Don’t tell me that was your first kiss or something,” he half-mocked.
Katsuki was absolutely not going to tell him that. “Of course not,” he lied, “You just... took me by surprise. Don’t go around kissing people unprompted shitty hair.”
Kirishima laughed. “You think my hair’s ‘shitty’? Also, for the record, you asked me.”
“That’s your pre-show ritual? Making out with strangers?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? Helps calm the nerves, just as much as this little thing,” and he twirled the cigarette in his fingers before popping it back in his mouth.
“Right,” Katsuki said, forcing a laugh and looking away as quickly as he could. What the hell just happened? His brain was still trying to process it, but his whole system felt completely fried. He looked back towards the graffiti wall, and found he suddenly couldn’t read any of it.
“I actually did come out here to find you,” Kirishima spoke up, appearing completely unfazed by what had just happened between the two of them. “We’re on in a few, and we should probably head back.” He looked around the dirty alleyway, “cute little nook you found here though.”
Katsuki nodded wordlessly, unable to look at the older guy at all. Kirishima began to hum to himself as he started walking back towards the backdoor of the bar.
Katsuki watched him go. Right. They were about to perform. The thought must’ve slipped his mind.
*****
That night’s performance passed Katsuki without so much as a hello.
He was completely on autopilot from the moment they stepped back into the bar, only vaguely aware of his surroundings, as Kaminari handed him his sticks in a panic, until Mina introduced the “Unbreakaboltz” to the stage.
But, he had to hand it to that dumb redhead; at least he wasn’t nervous.
Katsuki was used to playing mindlessly, in fact it was what he did best. Drumming was all about muscle memory for him - a way for him to vent and to let off steam more than anything, and this was no exception. Katsuki’s insides felt mixed; he wasn’t sure if he should be mad or upset or elated. A guy he’d met only a few weeks ago, who had invited him to join his band, just shotgunned him in a dark alleyway minutes before they were supposed to go onstage together. No warning, no post, no apology. His first fucking kiss too, not that he cared about those kinds of things.
It was a thankfully short set for them tonight. Friday nights usually had multiple bands playing, and they were only the opening act. They still had the whole night ahead of them, which gave Katsuki an unfortunately long time to think.
Katsuki brought down his last cymbal crash a little harder than he meant to, but it felt satisfying. He was breathing heavy, heavier than he usually would after only 3 songs, and was completely drenched in sweat. Ten minutes went by in ten seconds, and suddenly Kaminari was already introducing their last song.
Katsuki blinked, feeling as though he had just been shaken awake. The nerves finally started to mix with the already pumping adrenaline and he gripped his sticks a little tighter in his hands as he looked around, finally registering and taking in the view.
Kaminari stood at the front of the mini stage, his yellow guitar as loud and sparkling as his personality. Jirou was next to him, short hair, short skirt, and a purple guitar to match. And Sero was set up to the left of him, their dexterous fingers expertly playing the opening chords to the next and final song of the night.
As the last song began, Katsuki allowed himself a quick glance towards his right, where he knew the bassist stood. Kirishima looked completely focused, little beads of sweat beginning to collect on his skin. At some point during the show he must have taken off his flannel and tied it around his waist, revealing his tattoos in their full glory. He was smiling, biting the edge of his lip as his hands fingered out a complicated and impressive riff.
Katsuki could feel himself staring, unable to look away, his face burning up. He couldn’t get the thought of Kirishima’s touch out of his mind or the taste of smoke out of his mouth. It wasn’t an invasive or unpleasant thought, though part of him wished it was, but god was it distracting.
And then it was over.
“Thank you and good night!” Kaminari shouted into the microphone, nearly out of breath himself, met by applause from the audience. A huge grin was plastered to the blonde’s face as he looked back at the rest of his band. His energy was infectious, and it was enough to snap Katsuki out of his trance momentarily.
He looked back to Kirishima, who met his eyes and gave a soft smile. But before Katsuki could say or do anything, Kirishima was already walking off stage away from the blonde, bass now unplugged and hanging loosely off his shoulder by the strap.
Katsuki watched him go, before collecting his sticks and walking off stage after him.