Chapter Text
“Shit!” Kirishima cried out while slamming his fists on the table, “shit shit shit! Fuck!”
The laptop between his clenched hands rattles as he continues to assault the counter with an unhealthy amount of frustration.
Kaminari rolls his eyes, sipping his water as he sits next to his best friend, “you’re being a little dramatic, it’s going to work out. You already have a job lined up and-”
“Dude, I am in so much debt it’s not even funny please shut up,” Kirishima groaned with his face in his hands, “it isn’t even a job! I’m just volunteering because they need help!”
Kaminari gives an apologetic smile that Kirishima doesn’t see. He sets his water down, scooting closer to rub comforting circles on the redhead’s back. “Well you still have your job at the rec center so it’s not a complete lost cause,” he reassures
Kirishima groans again, “ugh! Why does graduating college feel like a punishment right now?” Lifting his head from his hands, his eyes connect with the blonds, “I have a degree and that should be comforting but so far it’s just a burden and now I have to find my own place that doesn’t require the sacrifice of my first unborn child as payment-”
“It’s the city-”
“And I have to find a way to get to the damn preschool since public transportation doesn’t go that far and all I have is a fucking bike.”
“Kiri-”
“-and my job is only paying me minimum wage and I have all this student debt and-”
“Kiri!” Kaminari yells, silencing his panicked friend, “I’ve known you my whole life and you have this natural talent of figuring shit out, will you please trust yourself? It’s going to be fine-”
“But it’s not! I feel like I’m drowning!” Kirishima’s voice cracks and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Kaminari is wrapping his arms around him. It’s like everything inside him breaks, the tension in his chest coils then corrupts with an explosion of hot tears spilling over his lash line. He clings to his friend, shoving his face in his shoulder, and allows himself to cry.
Eijiro Kirishima is a 22-year-old college graduate with a Bachelors in Childhood Education, a mane of red hair, a very nice ass, and the uncanny ability to doubt himself like it's his natural god-given talent.
He's always been that way. Always doubting if he can make the right decision, always wondering if he's on the right path even though all of the signs are screaming yeah bitch you're doing fine chill out.
He's also a natural caregiver. Always attending to others before himself. Even doubting his ability to serve while receiving nothing but praise. Low self-esteem is a bitch like that.
So it was no surprise when he went into the field of Childhood Education. He's always wanted to work with kids, finding it natural to be around them and care for them, seeing as he was a big kid himself.
He babysat for a lot of families in his neighborhood as a teenager which earned him a pretty impressive line of references. He was always rated highly, always requested to come back, and has even been paid more than he asked for on more than one occasion.
Before he graduated, a pre-school reached out to him asking if he could help them since they were temporarily short-staffed and he had been recommended personally by one of his Professors, so of course he couldn't say no. They told him they wouldn’t be able to pay him since he wouldn’t be a teacher, more like an assistant but they would be a reliable resource and they promised to assist him in finding more of a substantial job. Not ideal, but it was better than nothing.
So to say he’s prepared for the real world and all its bullshit would be an understatement. He has the education, the field experience, the heartwarming personality, and the determination to accomplish anything. There’s only one thing he’s missing and it’s in the form of a green piece of paper that could be described as the root of all evil.
Money.
Kirishima’s family never had a lot of money. His mothers were always working trying to keep them afloat, which is why he started babysitting in the first place. So when it came time for him to go to school, his mothers tried their best but could only afford so much.
So voila, student loans and man were they a bitch.
He didn’t have to start paying them right away, he had a year after he graduated until they would start sucking him dry. Which is one of the reasons why he decided to get a jumpstart on panicking.
The main reason for his current episode was that this volunteering job requires him to move. He can’t live with his friends anymore because the location was just too far and it would be too much of a strain.
Of course, his friends tried to find ways that it could work, but every plan ended up in Kirishima paying the same amount of money in transportation that he would pay to rent his own place or he was inconveniencing his housemates more than he liked. He was always reluctant to ask for help and definitely couldn’t rationalize what he would be doing to those that were the closest to him. The guilt would undoubtedly eat him alive.
So he, somewhat, firmly decided with an anxious stomach that he would move out.
Unfortunately, the city where he lives is expensive. Studio apartments are a rare find because everyone is renting them out since they are the cheapest. Inflation with no wage increase will do that to society. So he’s stuck with the shady roommate ads on craigslist or the 1-3 bedroom apartments that would require him to work at least 3 jobs and like he mentioned, possibly a sacrifice.
“Maybe you should take a break,” Kaminari suggested while running his fingers through Kirishima’s long red hair.
“I have to move out in two weeks. I don’t have time for a break.” Kirishima sits up, brushing off Kamanari’s touch, “M’gonna go for a walk so I can...think.” He says with a sniff, leaving before Kaminari can argue that he's technically taking a break.
The city is a fun place to live if you like the vibrations of modern human life in its rawest form. There are always cars honking, people chatting, doors slamming, alarms blaring, food cooking - everything but quiet. Which is what Kirishima wants as he trudged down the sidewalk with his fists clenched in his hoodie pockets.
He wants to believe Kaminari, that everything will be okay but it’s so overwhelming and it feels like once he discovers the solution to one problem, five new ones pop up.
How is he supposed to get on top of things? Will he ever? Will he always be chasing the release of stress? Is that what it means to be alive? To be an adult?
He clicks his teeth, pulling his black hoodie over his head as he dodges a woman who isn’t paying attention while she’s on the phone. On a normal day, Kirishima would think nothing of the passing, but now he tenses his muscles to resist the urge to stick his foot out and trip her.
He’s glad he doesn’t follow through but indulges in his imagination of a universe where he does trip her.
If you asked if he smiled at the thought he would deny it.
Normally, he would go to the neighborhood park that is usually a quiet place to hang out but as he comes to the edge he sees a handful of families barbecuing and there are a lot of kids around. Not surprising since it’s the start of the weekend.
He huffs, irritated that literally nothing is working out in his favor right now. All he wants is some peace, a moment where he can just take a breath. So he wanders off into quieter neighborhoods and prays that no one wants to mug him.
Not like he has anything except a coupon for a free bagel and his now expired school ID.
He walks with his fists tightly clenched and his head down, running numbers and scenarios to try to find a solution that feels right. He just wants to calm at least one of his worries but it all comes back to the devil paper. He kicks a rock in frustration.
He doesn’t know where he’s going as he stares at his feet. His ears notice that it is exceptionally quiet now. No bustling, honking, yelling, no music. As he raises his head he tries to not curse too loudly because, oops! He’s in the richest part of the city.
It’s where the tech geeks, the engineers, the doctors, the CEOs, and maybe a few famous people live. He never comes over here, too afraid that his poor person air would offend them.
But now he doesn’t really give a shit and walks across the street secretly hoping that one of them hits him with their Bently.
Oh no, a super-rich doctor has hit me with their car and now they have to pay me a million dollars so I don’t sue him or something. What a tragedy, a nightmare, oh no. Kirishima snorts at the thought.
He gazes up at the houses as he walks, letting out a whistle, and not really caring if anyone hears because shit these houses are nice. He can see chandeliers through the front bay windows and extravagant furniture with art hanging on the walls that looks like it was done by a toddler but probably costs more than Kirishima’s whole existence.
Most of the homes look the same on the outside, townhouses that are squished together - nearly conjoined. He doesn’t like the lack of space, but it doesn’t stop him from gaping at them as he walks. One catches his attention because there’s a white, long-haired cat in the window and man does he wish he was that cat.
He wiggles his finger at it and swears the cat looks at him like it can smell the poor on him. He decides to move on before he takes it too personally.
He takes his hood off to angle his head more, his long red hair draping past his shoulders as he continues to stare.
It isn’t until he gets to the end of a cul-de-sac does he realize that now he’s very lost in a rich neighborhood.
“Ah, fuck,” he hisses, turning on his heel and hoping that if he just comes back from where he came from he will be unlost.
As he tries to not panic, a house catches his eye and he can’t help but stop in his tracks.
All the other houses were light in color, very contemporary, and open. Clean and sleek, very telling of its expense and the amount of work put into its lavish creases.
Not this one.
Granted, anyone could tell that this house required a shit ton of money but not in the same way as the other ones.
This one was jet black from top to bottom.
Kirishima stares with his jaw slack and wide eyes cause what the fuck that’s so manly! Window sills, foundation, shutters, the door, the garage door - literally everything is the same shade of black. It’s kind of surprising that the sidewalk in front of it isn’t black too.
It almost looks like a void in the middle of the neighborhood and Kirishima can’t stop staring.
He inches closer, standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. There are multiple textures but it’s hard to make out because everything is the same color and it kind of just melds together in the most beautiful way. He’s never seen anything like it. He had no idea he would even like something like this but he does, he very much does.
He can’t see inside because the curtains are drawn, tempting him to get a closer look. Thankfully the rational side of his brain was louder, forcing him to stay on the sidewalk because God knows what would happen if he so much sniffed the same air as this house.
Shuddering as a chill runs up his spine, he realizes that the sun is going down now, “fuck!” He hisses before starting to walk, internally saying goodbye to the badass black house. He pulls his hood over his head, takes one last glance before turning around and running right into a concrete wall.
Or at least, what he could have mistaken for a concrete wall.
He grunts and stumbles back, clutching his burning nose, “ah shit, sorry!” He places a hand on his knee and bends over, trying to ease the pain in his face before straightening back up to make eye contact with the most gorgeous human he has ever seen.
“Oh fuck.”
He didn’t mean to say that out loud but he couldn’t help himself because there was this tall blond with a menacing glare and a body that should be classified as illegal. Not to mention that he is only wearing black basketball shorts and his upper half is glistening from the sweat.
Kirishima bites back the shiver that ripples through his body. He convinces himself it's because of the cold and nothing else.
He keeps his hand on his face, fearing whatever expression he’s wearing underneath. His mouth is dry, probably because his jaw is stuck to the floor.
“Hey asshole, why don’t you watch where you’re going.”
And his voice is sexy what the fuck.
Kirishima blinks suddenly feeling overwhelmingly agitated because once again the universe is out to get him. Hand still on his face he muffles out, “Fuck you man. My bad, alright?” Kirishima’s shoulder brushes the other as he rushes passed and no Kirishima does not try to inhale his scent because that would be fucking weird.
Kirishima smells freedom as he removes his hand, checking his palm and grateful to find no blood, but fate had different plans as a hand clasps his shoulder and spins him around like he's just one of those spinning top toys.
Now he’s face to face with the sexy blond man once again and he wants to punch him and sit on his face at the same time. His eyes are so intense and his jaw looks like it could handle Kirishima’s weight, he notes.
“You’re not from here, are you?” He states it more as an accusation than a question. His voice low and gravelly, his eyes burning into Kirishima's as his hand clutches him like a mouse in the claw of a cat.
Kirishima feels like he might pass out because his skin is so smooth and so wet and it has a pink flush to it. Kirishima gulps and tries to keep his eyes on the others and not an inch lower, “uh, yeah, nope. Not from here. I mean I live in this city but not here uh--”
Smooth.
“Then what the fuck are you doing in front of my house?”
Kirishima couldn’t stop his jaw from hitting the pavement or his eyes bulging out of his skull, “that’s your house?!” He asks while his eyes shift between the contrasting beauties.
A grin forms on the blond man’s face just as quickly as it disappears and Kirishima’s brain has to manually tell his legs to keep himself upright, “sure is. Now tell me what you were doing or I will call the cops.”
Kirishima gulps, not wanting a hit to his bank account or his record, “I-I was just on a walk! I swear! And I saw your house and I was just like, holy shit that’s so fucking cool I’ve never seen a black house before! I’m sorry! Please don’t call the cops!”
The man’s eyes squint and relax before finally releasing Kirishima’s shoulder, “fine. I guess I’ll believe that you’re not a stalker.” He smirks, crossing his arms and making his pecs squish together, “and you’re right, it is fucking cool.”
Kirishima lets out a breath of relief as his shoulder burns from the touch, “ah, shit thanks man. Sorry, again. I just-I don’t, ugh, anyway. Yeah, cool house. I’m leaving now.” With stiff shoulders, Kirishima turns on his heel and starts walking, trying to push away the embarrassing flush that’s crawling from his head to his toes. He pulls his phone out and finds that it is very dead, “fuck!” He hisses as he shoves it back in his pocket.
He’s still lost in a rich neighborhood with no way to get out. He thinks he could just wander and hope for the best, but the darkening sky discourages the idea.
“The fuck is your problem?”
Kirishima turns back around for what feels like the millionth time and desperately tries to not check this guy out but man if he ain’t a popsicle he just wants to lick. Kirishima sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “I just, I’m not sure - oh my god fuck today with full disrespect.” He groans, putting his face in the palm of his hands.
He hears a chuckle that isn’t his and he forces himself to keep his head in his hands, “oh, so I’ve found a lost puppy then.”
Kirishima will not admit the way his stomach flutters and drops nor will he admit how fast the blood from his head traveled south.
Kirishima spreads his fingers to peak through them, aggressively ignoring how his ears heat up. This dude is thoroughly enjoying the fact that Kirishima is lost and he doesn’t know whether to be scared or excited.
“Yeah, I’m lost.” Kirishima finally admits, dropping his hands then shoving them in his hoodie pocket, “ugh, could you tell me how to get out here? Please?”
“Nope.” The blond man says with a grin and a look in his eyes that makes Kirishima antsy.
Kirishima huffs, “okay fine, fuck you then.” He says before attempting to stomp off, anger coiling in his gut. Cocky bastard who the fuck--.
“I can give you a ride though.”
Kirishima stops in his tracks again and turns to face the man who wears a smug expression that Kirishima wants to smack with the back of his hand. He glares, tilting his head slightly, “sorry? You’ll-you’ll give me a ride? Are you serious?”
“No I just said that to get your hopes up only to crush them so I would be able to go to sleep knowing I left someone out here who obviously needed help,” he says with a sarcastic tone and a roll of his eyes. “Come on, waste any more of my time, and I will take back my offer.” He says before turning his back, walking up to the black house.
Kirishima remains frozen as he watches the man's back muscles tense as he walks. It takes him a moment to fully register everything he just said before moving quickly--too afraid to challenge the stranger to actually leave him out here alone.
“Wait here,” the blond orders while pointing at the sidewalk at the edge of the driveway before retreating to the side of the house.
Kirishima fiddles with his hoodie drawstrings, patiently waiting where he was told to and no his stomach isn’t filled with butterflies.
Kirishima is snapped out of his anxious thoughts as he hears the garage door lifting with a groan. His eyes widen like saucers, threatening to bulge out of his skull. There’s a bright mother fucking orange McLaren sports car purring and inching its way out of the darkness. Kirishima doesn’t think he’s seen anything so amazing or expensive in the flesh. At the very least these cars cost a million dollars, AT LEAST.
It’s fucking beautiful and it’s really purring like a fucking cat and suddenly Kirishima can't breathe
Its nose pulls up to the sidewalk, the man is glaring at him from the driver’s seat.
Kirishima takes a nervous step back, “nope, I’m not getting in that.” The blond arches an eyebrow and Kirishima holds his hands up, palms out as if he is surrendering, “nope, I’m going to get my poor people’s aura on it.”
The blond rolls his beautiful eyes before his glare intensifies, “will you fucking get in before I decide to run you over.”
The redhead gulps and decides that maybe it isn’t the best idea to challenge him.
Kirishima’s palms are sweating and his knees are incredibly wobbly as he rounds the front. He’s really about to get into this stranger's car, isn’t he? He swallows, trying to wet his dry throat as he comes to the passenger door. He reaches for the handle but quickly pulls his hand to his chest because the door is opening by itself.
He watches in complete amazement as the door slowly arches up like it’s a batmobile.
“Fucking, get in shitty hair!”
Kirishima jumps, seating himself quickly. It’s odd, having to almost lay down to get into a car but it’s also really cool since he’s never done it before. He's also never been so close to such a nice car let alone get in it.
Afraid to touch anything, he keeps his hands in his lap while his eyes greedily scan all the polished surfaces. He tries to keep his mouth shut but fuck it’s so nice and he’s overwhelmingly intimidated.
He watches with a gaping mouth as the door closes by itself before returning his attention back to the orange and black leather seating, the black middle console, and all the fancy fucking buttons and shit.
Who needs that many buttons?!
As his internal question goes unanswered, he notices there's not one, but two, two digital screens on either side of the steering wheel. For what? Kirishima can't figure it out. Too fancy. Too out of his league.
It’s so weird to take in the luxuries of the car only to find the driver in black basketball shorts, running shoes, and no shirt and what Kirishima believes is a permanent scowl.
“What’s so funny?” The blond asks before glaring at Kirishima, “put your seatbelt on, what’re you a child?”
Kirishima halts his laughter, quickly fumbles with the seatbelt, eventually securing it with some sort of grace. He fidgets in his seat for a moment before realizing that they haven’t moved, he makes a face at the blond, only to find a very intense glare boring into him.
“I said, what the fuck is so funny?” He growls, tightly gripping the steering wheel.
Kirishima feels himself start to sweat, very aware of the fact that he is in a strangers car, in a foreign neighborhood and he’s never felt so vulnerable. He questions his sanity for a second, only a second.
He gulps, forcing a smile, “I was-just-I thought it was funny how nice this car is and you just-you-you kind of look like a soccer Dad right now.” Kirishima bites his bottom lip so he doesn’t laugh as the blond’s glare intensifies.
“Get out.” He snaps, but before Kirishima can even fulfill the order the car is moving and Kirishima can't help but laugh hysterically.
“Right, so filthy rich man with a super manly house and an even manlier car can't take a joke. Noted.” Kirishima teases, his internal self bangs its head against the walls of his skull. Is he trying to die? He's not so sure now.
When the blond doesn’t respond Kirishima decides that he might as well poke at the lion since he clearly has a death wish, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He meant in a very playful way, very jokingly and very much not serious but now it feels very serious because the car comes to a screeching halt in the middle of the street. Kirishima flings forward, bracing himself against the dashboard with a grunt, “what the-” He cuts himself off as he finds the blond staring at him with an arched eyebrow and a tense jaw.
He can feel his death wish on the verge of being granted. He can taste it.
“You better watch your mouth, kid.” He says with a strained voice and wow does that do something to Kirishima’s stomach.
Kirishima bristles, snapping himself out of the butterfly feeling in his stomach, “kid?! You can’t be that much older than me!” He’s starting to get nervous because they’re just fucking parked in the middle of the street and the blond doesn’t even seem to give a damn. Even when passing cars honk at him as they swerve around the vehicle.
Rich people shit, Kirishima thinks.
A grin forms on the blond’s face and he looks proud, of what Kirishima isn’t sure but the car is moving again so that’s a relief.
Until he realizes that he hasn’t told the blond where he wants to be dropped off.
“Hey, um, I live-”
“Didn’t ask.” He interrupts and Kirishima feels himself starting to panic.
Kirishima’s breath catches in his throat as he gapes at the driver, “are you kidnapping me?”
The blond chuckles and Kirishima tries not to like it too much, “if I was, why would I tell you?" Pausing, he shakes his head while stifling a smile, "Idiot.”
Kirishima stares for a moment before scanning the passing street signs, trying to figure out where they're going, “okay that’s super comforting.” He gulps, fiddling with his drawstrings, “okay, so not-kidnapper, where are we going?”
“I’m hungry.” He says nonchalantly. Kirishima stares at him again, his profile is so fucking nice it’s stupid. “I’m going to get something to eat.” He adds, offering no other context as to why he’s taking Kirishima along.
Kirishima fidgets awkwardly because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? He’s literally just along for the ride. He contemplates jumping out at the next red light, but it never fucking comes, confirming that the universe does have it out for him.
Remembering the events of today, yesterday, and what’s to come tomorrow, he starts to rub his temples as the stress starts to weigh on him again. A headache settles in as his brain starts firing through his never-ending to-do list.
He literally just spent hours walking around aimlessly only to be picked up by some rude rich dude with a pretty face. None of it is productive in any way whatsoever! He sinks in his seat as the consequences of his spontaneous nature walk stab his brain with guilt.
“Got any food allergies?”
“No,” Kirishima responds without thinking. Too engulfed in what he needs to get done, what phone calls he needs to make, how much a moving van costs, and if it is possible to move his stuff only using his bike to process what's happening beyond his thoughts.
He’s mumbling and chewing on his nails, no longer paying attention to his surroundings until a bag of warm food is placed on his lap.
He stares at his lap, eyebrows pinched before looking at the driver, “uh-?” He’s not sure what to say as he holds onto the food before the car starts moving again.
Wait, was that a drive-thru? He checks behind him and tries to not gasp because no it’s not a drive-thru just a restaurant that he’s never tried because poor and now there are new questions flooding his brain.
“Wait-how did you-?”
“One of my favorites,” he simply states and Kirishima doesn’t know if that answers his questions or just makes more. “They’re the only place in this fucking city that has the balls to make their food spicy.”
Kirishima just gapes at him. Confusion and curiosity silently spilling from his wide eyes and open mouth.
And all he can say with a breathless laugh is, “that’s so fucking manly.”
Because eating spicy food is manly and being able to just drive up to a restaurant that doesn’t do curbside, delivery, or any sort of service other than dine-in by reservation only is also fucking manly.
Kirishima acts like he doesn’t notice the way a smirk tugs at the corner of the blond’s lips. He tries to not feel so proud of being able to elicit such a reaction because it’s weird.
It's so fucking weird
It’s weird that he’s with this man that he doesn’t even know just picking up food like it’s normal and talking like they’ve known each other for more than an hour. He doesn't even know his name!
Feeling nervous, Kirishima’s leg starts to bounce as the scenery becomes unfamiliar once again and now the sky is dark and he really should go home. “Hey man I-”
“We’re almost there.”
Kirishima arches an eyebrow at the blond, “where? Where are we going? I swear to God if you kill me I’m going to haunt you forever-”
He just laughs, shaking his head, “so dramatic. It would be a waste to kill you.”
Kirishima’s cheeks burn with heat as his stomach flips like a gymnast. A waste. He swallows, keeping his eyes forward, “then at least tell me your name you fucking weirdo.”
“Bakugo.” He says before briefly glancing at Kirishima, “your turn.”
His eyes fall back onto the road as he feels the heat spread through his cheeks, “Kirishima.” He says with only a smidge of hesitation, “where are we-”
“Shush. Just relax I said we're almost there.” Bakugo interrupts, turning up the music on the radio to solidify silencing Kirishima.
Kirishima wants to argue, wants to pull more information out of him, but for some asinine reason, he trusts Bakugo and decides to do what he says. If Bakugo wanted to hurt him, he would’ve done so by now.
Kirishima notes to himself that this sort of blind faith is something that he will definitely have to unpack later in the confinements of his bedroom with the door locked. He's never trusted someone like this. Quite literally letting them take the wheel of control. It's weird.
But as he watches the city lights become a little more distant, he feels less weird about the whole thing. He rests his head on the window, staring up at the freckled night sky which looks like a reflection of the nightlife bustling in the creases between the metal buildings. It looks beautiful and doesn’t feel nearly as daunting as it did when Kirishima was in his house crying at the computer.
He feels himself actually relaxing as he watches the scenery while the food warms his lap. He thinks that if Bakugo does decide to kill him that he would be at peace with that. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about things like money and jobs and phone calls and all that other shit that stresses him out.
He keeps his eyes on the blurry city, becoming hypnotized with every passing second before the car comes to a stop. He blinks, realizing he actually spaced out and possibly fell asleep with his eyes open.
He takes in his surroundings after a few watery blinks, it’s dark but there’s a glow that’s coming from the city that is actually very far away now. Bakugo gets out so Kirishima does the same, still clutching the warm food like it’s a heated blanket. It’s colder wherever they’re at. He shivers a little before pulling his hoodie over his head, tugging at the strings to tighten it.
He can’t help but stare at the view past the small clearing. Has this always been here? He wondered, stepping closer to the edge to get a better look. The city bustling below as always. He can hear the noise but it’s muffled from the distance. It’s so quiet. He closes his eyes to appreciate the silence, finally getting that much-needed breath.
Then Bakugo is taking the warm food from his hands which snaps Kirishima’s eyes open. Bakugo nods his head, “come on, sit down.” And he does something Kirishima never expected a rich man to do but he sits on the ground. It’s not a paved clearing, it’s dirty and full of forest clutter in the form of sticks and broken greens. There's some trash from previous visitors. It's not the worst but it's also definitely not meant for an ass of someone who drives a McLaren, Kirishima thinks.
He sits next to Bakugo their backs to the front of the car, noticing that he's no longer barechested and now wearing a sweatshirt. He crosses his legs, faintly brushing his knee against Bakugo’s as he stares at the view again. He hears fumbling as Bakugo goes through the bag of food and yes Kirishima still has a bunch of questions but he can’t bring himself to muster up the energy. He’s so calm and sort of entranced and it feels good.
“Here,” Bakugo says while handing him a container.
Kirishima stares at the container, then at Bakugo before taking it with both of his hands, “what’s this for?”
“To shove up your ass,” Bakugo says with a sarcastic tone as he rolls his eyes, “to fucking eat, shitty hair. What else would it be for?” He says before digging into his own container of what looks like curry.
Kirishima stares at the container in his hands as it warms them, “this-this is for me?” His voice squeaks.
Bakugo squints at him, swallowing his bite, “if you don’t start putting it in your mouth I’m going to shove it down your throat myself.”
Kirishima is only a little tempted to see what that would be like.
So, so many questions but they will have to wait because the look of pure annoyance in Bakugo’s eyes sends a chill down his spine. He gulps as he removes the lid of the container and desperately tries to not moan at the smell. It’s chicken coconut curry, sweet and savory, warm to the touch, and a little spicy on the tongue, and yeah Kirishima might be drooling.
He grabs a utensil, digging around as he tries to figure out the ingredients. He then vaguely remembers Bakugo asking got any food allergies and he tries not to blush. So...oddly considerate for a stranger.
He discovers there's chicken, rice, and a bunch of vegetables before his stomach growls, loudly, as if it’s begging him to hurry the fuck up. His ears burn hot when he hears Bakugo stifle a laugh at his stomach’s fury.
He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. His stomach practically cried from happiness.
And holy shit was it the best thing he has ever tasted. He loves curry and has tried a handful of types, but none come close to this one. It’s a little spicy but the coconut and the rice cut through it making it very satisfying to shovel into his mouth. It's so delicious it makes his toes curl.
He takes another bite, savoring it before swallowing. Sighing heavily, he stares out at the view before glaring at Bakugo, “what have you done to me?” He asks with a sharp tone.
Bakugo’s eyebrows raise at the redhead, swallowing his bite before asking, “what do you mean?”
“You’ve ruined me.”
“Wh-”
“I love curry but now that I’ve tasted this little slice of heaven I can never have basic curry again!" He pouts his bottom lip as Bakugo bites back a smile, "I can’t afford that place therefore I’m just destined to suffer now that I know this exists! And it’s all your fault,” Kirishima grumbles while shoveling another spoonful in his mouth, resisting the urge to moan once again.
Bakugo shakes his head with an exasperated huff, “I can just get it for you again.”
Kirishima swallows his bite, shaking his head violently while jabbing a finger at the blond, “nuh-uh! No way! I already owe you for this one!”
“Shut up,” Bakugo hisses before swatting Kirishima’s finger away, “don’t even try to pay me back. You said it yourself, I’m rich. Now fuck off and finish your food.”
With a frustrated huff, Kirishima turns so he’s fully facing Bakugo, “okay I won’t try to pay you back if you tell me why the fuck you offered me a ride home and instead of doing that you got me food and brought me here!” He said with a wave of his hand.
Bakugo shrugged while digging at his curry, “because I wanted to.”
“But why?”
Bakugo rolls his eyes and stares out into the view of the city, “do you ever just do something because you want to, Kirishima?”
I fucking wish but I don’t have money to just do whatever I want, privileged BITCH
“Yeah if only I could do just that, then I wouldn’t have to stress about anything.”
“What’re you stressed about?”
“Well I-,” Kirishima clamps his mouth shut before glaring at Bakugo, “why do you care? You don’t even know me.”
“I need to know you to ask what stresses you out?” Bakugo asks with a tilt of his head that shouldn’t be so cute when he’s being so cocky. It's overwhelming, his confidence. He's so sure in everything he says, making Kirishima's head spin.
“Yeah. S’kinda personal,” Kirishima grumbles while staring at what's left of his curry, “plus you don’t seem the type to give a shit about strangers and their problems. No offense.”
Bakugo shrugs, “none taken cus you’re right. I’m not the type.” He pauses, shifting his eyes from Kirishima to the view to his own food, “most of the time.”
Kirishima pauses, most of the time? What does that mean?
He stares at the human puzzle before him. Wondering why he's decided to pop into Kirishima's life when everything is crumbling to shit.
Ah, the universe, he remembers.
He studies the blond’s profile, internally cursing the universe because damn is Bakugo pretty. His eyes are a crimson color with a tint of orange, like a phoenix’s fire and his features are sharp and bold. Intimidating but beautiful.
His jawline is cut sharp while his lips look stupid soft. It's not fair! And his skin! Ugh, it’s so smooth and his cheeks look like they would be so fun to squish. They're not pudgy but they're anything but boney. Just the right amount, just enough to pinch.
“Like what you see?” Bakugo’s voice snaps Kirishima out of the fog and he has half a mind to not blurt out a yes.
Kirishima peels his eyes away, his cheeks flushing red as the blond chuckles. He pouts, feeling like his brain is moving through molasses, barely able to keep up with Bakugo. He's like a firecracker, unpredictable, sporadic, and exciting. The exact opposite of himself, Kirishima thinks.
All the more reason to question why he is even given Kirishima the time of day. Is it really just because he wanted to? Does he do this for other people? Is it just some fun game for him? For some reason, his chest tightens uncomfortably at the thought.
“Thank you,” Kirishima says through the tightness in his chest, Bakugo stills next to him, “even though you’ve permanently ruined me, thank you.”
Bakugo doesn’t say anything immediately, allowing the silence to weigh around them. The trees bristle with the passing breeze, the city murmuring in the distance. Kirishima can’t bring himself to look anywhere but the container of his food as his ears burn with embarrassment.
“No thanking me for my selfish whims. I truly enjoyed ruining you.”
Kirishima chokes on his spit, coughing aggressively into the nook of his arm as Bakugo barks out an unapologetic laugh. Tears stream down Kirishima’s face as he tries to get his breathing back to normal. With a satisfied, smug smile Bakugo hands him a water. Kirishima manages to glare at him through his watered eyelashes before emptying the bottle.
“You’re a fucking dickhead,” Kirishima chokes out with a strained voice, coughing once more as he wipes away the tears.
Bakugo laughs again, clearly not sorry at all, “you seem to like it.”
Kirishima takes a few calming breaths, trying to force himself to not choke again.
Bakugo finally subsides his laughter to soft giggles, “come on, I’ll take you home now. I would prefer you to choke to death on someone else’s watch.” The blond comes to his feet with a playful grin, reaching his hand out to the flustered redhead.
“So romantic,” Kirishima strains himself to say as he latches on to the outreached hand, allowing Bakugo to pull him to his feet. Out of habit he pulls his hand back but finds that the blond is clutching it firmly. His eyes find fiery red ones and wow they’re so close all of a sudden.
Kirishima’s breath catches in his throat as he stares at Bakugo. He’s even prettier up close and fuck it isn’t fair at all. He has light freckles decorating the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, his eyelashes are a pale blond that makes the color of his eyes pop. His lips are a little red and plump from, what Kirishima assumes, the spicy curry. Despite the mild irritation, they look incredibly soft.
Kirishima can feel himself become entranced by the man before him. So tall, so wide in the shoulders, such a pretty face, and knowing how explosive this man is does something to Kirishima’s brain. He can feel his breathing becoming short and needy like he’ll die if he doesn’t do something about the heat in his stomach. He really tries to reign it in out of fear that he could make Bakugo uncomfortable until he watches those plump lips curve into a smirk.
He can feel the tips of his fingers tingle with anticipation, still locked with Bakugo’s and he tries to stop his hand from sweating by sheer will alone. He can’t tell if Bakugo is leaning or if it’s him but he can’t find a single fuck to give. He can feel Bakugo’s breath caress his lips, smelling the spice and the sweetness intermingled with the scent of Bakugo himself. It’s intoxicating and Kirishima wants to dive into it face first.
Their lips nearly meet when Bakugo says, “wanna taste?”
Kirishima blinks, his eyes moving from his lips to his eyes, following the blond’s gaze to the container that is set on the hood of his car. Kirishima's brows furrow as he stares at it, his brain working extra hard to catch up to what is happening.
Did he just get rejected? Is Bakugo just playing him? Did he not want to kiss him? Now, of all times, he offers a bite of his curry? The fuck?
He swallows, trying to not show his disappointment. He can't find the right words as he catches his breath, staring at the container, “uhh...”
Before he can get a single word out Bakugo uses his free hand to grab Kirishima by the jaw, forcing their eyes to meet before smashing their lips together. Kirishima's knees nearly buckle as he's met with a prickling sensation paired with the taste of curry, making him unable to suppress a satisfied hum.
Bakugo's lips are overpowering, kneading against Kirishima's while his tongue darts and drags across the redhead's bottom lip. Kirishima greedily opens his mouth, exhaling fervently as Bakugo's tongue meets his own. The spiciness of the curry lingers everywhere his tongue touches, swelling his lips and tongue a little, making him that much more sensitive to every touch.
Kirishima’s free hand clutches the front of Bakugo’s sweatshirt, pulling him closer as their tongues slither against each other. Bakugo releases his hand from Kirishima’s, wrapping both of his thick arms around the redhead’s waist, pulling his body flush against his chest.
Bakugo swallows the whine that passes Kirishima’s lips as their chests press against each other. Kirishima’s hands find Bakugo’s neck, cupping at the jaw as their lips and tongues refuse to separate. His skin burns as he feels Bakugo envelop him in his scent, his touch, and his taste.
Spicy, strong, exploding.
He’s never felt anything like this. Sure he’s made out with people but never had someone invade all of his senses at once in such a short amount of time.
It’s overwhelming but manageable, all-encompassing but somehow a breath of fresh air at the same time. Like watching fireworks in the sky, dangerous up close but tranquil from afar.
It was clear as day that Bakugo was an experienced man with the way his tongue and lips work in tandem to weaken Kirishima in every possible way. His tongue diligently making sure to paint the inside of Kirishima’s mouth as if he was trying to claim the redhead. Kirishima is barely able to keep up and he really hopes that Bakugo isn’t disappointed with his performance.
Kirishima shamelessly chases Bakugo’s lips as he pulls away, a line of spit connecting their swollen mouths. He catches himself, steadying his eagerness by resting his forehead against Bakugo’s plump chest. Strong arms remain snug around his waist while Kirishima attempts to catch his breath.
“So, what do you think?” Bakugo asks after a few beats of silence and mild panting.
Kirishima bites his bottom lip as a laugh shakes his shoulders, his forehead still pressed against Bakugo’s chest, “s’not bad.” He manages to mumble, trying to sound nonchalant while his heart hammers in his chest and his dick strains against his jeans.
Bakugo’s arms release some of their hold, forcing Kirishima’s forehead to break from the comforts of his warm chest so their eyes meet, “let’s get you home, pup.” He says with a confident smirk and glossy reds, patting Kirishima’s ass twice before getting in his car.
Kirishima’s legs are so fucking weak he nearly falls without support. He tries to play it off by grabbing his food container off the floor.
His brain has not one single thought nor a brain cell to share as he buckles himself in. His entire body feels like it’s vibrating while also being completely numb and somehow on fire at the same time. He barely registers when Bakugo asks him where he lives and he thinks he gives him the right address. He hopes so but he can’t confirm it. Not when all he’s thinking about his Bakugo’s lips and his hands and how much he wants them on him again.
The car ride is quiet, only the sound of the music on the radio filling up the silence and the mild purring of the car. Bakugo doesn’t say anything, but it's clear from the way he taps the steering wheel that he's more than comfortable in the shared silence.
Kirishima is more than grateful because doesn’t have the ability to get his brain and mouth to work together to form a coherent thought.
He nearly short circuits when Bakugo rests his large hand on his thigh like it's the most natural thing to do.
It’s only when he starts to notice familiar buildings, restaurants, and sidewalks does he come back to Earth. He’s almost home and something twinges in his stomach as he realizes that Bakugo is going to see where he lives. He’s a little embarrassed and wishes he had the brainpower to request Bakugo drop him off away from his house.
He fears pity from others and maybe that’s why he doesn’t want Bakugo to see. Bakugo already knew to some extent that Kirishima wasn’t living lavishly but to have a visual is a whole different thing.
He swallows the lump in his throat as Bakugo pulls up to the front of his house. He scrambles to get the seatbelt off thinking that if he gets out of there fast enough Bakugo won’t have enough time to perceive his surroundings. Yes, it’s irrational especially since it's dark out so unless Bakugo has night vision, he wouldn't be able to really tell what Kirishima’s house looks like.
Then, it hits him. Will he see Bakugo again? Was this a one-time thing? He hopes not. So he swallows the embarrassment, thankful that it’s dark out so maybe Bakugo doesn’t see the flush on his cheeks sprawling down his neck.
“Uh, will I see-”
“Yes,” Bakugo says almost instantly and without an ounce of shame.
Kirishima blinks at him, feeling a smile form that makes his eyes crinkle a little, “okay...thank you-”
Bakugo grabs the underside of his jaw with such force and quickness that Kirishima involuntarily gasps as their eyes lock, “what did I say, Kirishima?”
Kirishima gulps at the sudden overwhelming power of the blond before him. He immediately feels his heart begin to race, his breathing instantly shortening with need and some unfamiliar feeling, “sor-sorry I-”
“No. Repeat it back to me, Kirishima.”
Kirishima forces himself to not whine at the authoritative tone and how nice his name sounds on Bakugo’s lips, “don’t-don’t thank you for your selfish whims.”
“And?”
Kirishima’s whole body is definitely on fire, it has to be. There’s no other explanation for the tingling feeling underneath his skin and the way he’s beginning to sweat. He swallows, his mouth dry while his heartbeat hammers in his neck, “you enjoyed ruin-ruining me.”
An incredibly sinful smile forms on Bakugo’s lips and Kirishima can’t even stop his eyes from darting to the plump flesh before returning back to the fierce reds, “good boy.” He praises, releasing his grip on Kirishima’s jaw, “now go on before someone calls a search party for your cute ass.”
Kirishima notes that he has so many things to unpack as his dick twitches at the praise.
The passenger door begins to open on its own with a hiss and Kirishima really doesn’t want this night to end. With an almost pleading tone, he starts to ask, “how will I-I don’t have your number…”
Okay so maybe death isn’t so bad.
Bakugo watches him like he’s stalking prey and Kirishima tries not to shiver under the gaze, “don’t worry about that, pup.”
Kirishima rolls his eyes, letting out a breath that he felt like he was holding, “fine.” Barely managing with numb legs he gets out of the car, not wanting to leave without saying something, an idea clicks in his head. Before the door closes he ducks his head to give Bakugo a smile and with the sweetest tone he could muster he purrs, “goodnight Bakugo.”
Bakugo’s eyes widened only for a second, barely enough for Kirishima to claim it as a victory before he smiled, “goodnight Kirishima.”