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The minute he steps out of the building, he’s ambushed. Flashes of lights flicker right in front of his eyes, nearly blinding him as he staggers backward, already battered and worn down from the villains inside.
“DynaMight, DynaMight! Can you spare a minute for questions?”
“DynaMight, over here! How did you discover the villain’s hideout?”
“Excuse me, Mr. DynaMight! How will you account for the damage to the buildings in the area? Wouldn’t you consider your quirk usage to be excessive for the villain’s threat level?”
“Do you have any theories about whether this is all connected to the recent surge of attacks on high ranking heroes?”
Bakugou growls, using his gauntlets to shove aside the reporters that swarm in front of him. He’s still covered head to toe in sewage gunk from the villain’s quirk, not to mention bruises and cuts from the fight.
“Go read the fucking police report and leave me alone.”
He has little patience for reporters on a good day. Today? After dealing with petty crimes that leave him wondering why the hell he signed up for hero work in the first place, all he wants to do is go home and curl up in bed with a steaming mug of hot coffee under a pile of thick blankets.
Maybe also wrapped in the arms of a certain someone.
As if on cue, the reporters immediately switch tactics when they realize he won’t answer any of their questions relating to the incident.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bakugou Katsuki,” one reporter calls out. Her microphone trembles in her hand but she holds her head high as she asks her question, a look of determination etched across her face. “If you won’t answer questions about the crime, would you care to give us some insight into your relationship with Kirishima Eijirou, also known as pro hero Red Riot?”
A hush falls over the crowd as they strain to hear his answer, staring at the reporter in awe. She’s brave. Stupid, yeah, but brave to be asking what’s been on everybody’s mind since the paparazzi released photos of Bakugou and Kirishima cozying up together on Kaminari’s balcony (never mind that Kirishima was actually puking off the side of the ledge while Bakugou held his hair back).
The silence stretches on, interspersed only by the sound of camera shutters clicking. Bakugou mentally curses Kaminari for that stupid party and his stupid mixed drinks that made them all make stupid decisions. “Friendly class reunion” his ass. Stupid.
Bakugou opens his mouth. Glares down at the tiny reporter before him. Closes his mouth. Opens it again.
“Fuck off.”
With that, he blasts off, flying up and over the gaping faces of the reporters so that he can run back to his office.
–
“Oi, Kacchan! I saw that you ran away from some feral reporters today – must have been a scary bunch, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up and don’t call me that, dunce face,” Bakugou answers. His voice is mostly muffled by the paperwork that he’s trying to suffocate himself with at the current moment. Who knew that pro-heroism required so much writing ?
“Why don’t you just tell them that you and Kirishima are fu–”
“I said ,” Bakugou growls, grabbing Kaminari’s shirt collar in one fist, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
Kaminari raises two hands in front of him, attempting to make a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry! Lips are sealed, will never talk about you and Kirishima’s super obvious secret relationship ever again!”
Bakugou just groans and tosses him to the side before returning to his desk. “Secret relationship my ass, we’re just friends .”
And they are. Really and truly. Friends who happen to hang out on weekends. And weekdays. And spend every waking moment together. And quite a few non-waking moments, too.
Bakugou stands straight up, causing the chair behind him to clatter to the ground. “I need a drink,” he sighs, scrubbing at his face.
“Bakugou, it’s three in the afternoon,” Kaminari says, flicking a paper airplane at him. It’s the remains of a mangled incident report that Kaminari should definitely be writing up right now, but Bakugou is in no position to nag.
“Coffee, then,” Bakugou says, grabbing his coat and hurrying out of the office. He lets the door fall shut on Kaminari’s request for a pumpkin spice latte.
Out on the street, he continues to walk slowly, dragging his feet as he makes his way down to the corner store, headache building as he tries to avoid thinking about Kirishima.
It isn’t that he’s trying to hide their relationship from the public. Bakugou couldn't care less what they think of him, but at the end of the day he doesn’t even know for himself where they stand. Right now he can be sure they’re hovering on the cusp of something more than friends, but with Kirishima being Kirishima, Bakugou just doesn’t know if he deserves this at all, when –
Oh.
“Excuse me,” he says, stopping by a street vendor’s cart. “How much is this?”
The old woman bends over to take a closer look at the hair clip he’s pointing to. It’s fairly large, decorated with orange and red beads that glint a fiery color in the sun. Bakugou can’t help but think of the way Kirishima will lean over the dining table when he’s over at Bakugou’s house, pushing back the hair that keeps falling into his face ever since he started growing it out.
“This?” she asks, lifting it up to show Bakugou. “It’s 400 yen,” she says, patting Bakugou’s hand with a gentle smile. “For your girlfriend?” she asks as she wraps it up in some tissue paper, already assuming Bakugou’s intent to buy it.
“No, for the guy I like,” he finds himself answering automatically as he reaches in his back pocket for his wallet. “Wait. Fuck. What?” Bakugou slaps his hand over his mouth, staring down at the old lady in horror. She merely smiles up at him, taking the bills out of his hand and replacing them with the hair clip.
“Have a good day, young man,” she says before leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.
Bakuguo frowns down at her, still half gaping, but shrugs and walks away, keeping his head down as he makes his way over to the corner store. His mind must be so all over the place that he can’t even keep his words straight.
He’s standing in line with two cans of coffee in either hand when it happens again.
“Excuse me,” a voice asks from behind and he turns around to see two girls still in their school uniforms staring up at him. “Are you… Are you DynaMight?”
He opens his mouth to give his usual greeting of, “No, fuck off.”
Instead, what he finds coming out of his mouth is, “Yeah. I mean. What?” Shit. Is he that tired? Bakugou tries to shake it off as the girls titter and ask for autographs, frowning as he rejects them by shaking his two full hands of coffee at them and turns back around.
They’re persistent, though, and one of the girls calls out, “Are you and Red Riot dating?”
Bakugou stiffens. He can feel the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them and muffles his voice with his elbow.
“Fuck,” he mutters, slightly more audibly as he rushes forward and tosses some bills onto the counter. “Keep the change.”
Back on the street, he’s hurrying through the crowd to get back to the office where he tosses Kaminari one of the cans and slouches back at his desk.
“This ain’t a pumpkin spice, buddy!”
“Fuck off, do I look like a Starbucks?” he snarls, before guzzling down the can and chucking it to the side. “Oi, Pikachu,” he hisses, getting Kaminari’s attention. “Ask me something. Any question.” He pauses, squinting at Kaminari’s mischievous grin and revises, “But if it’s too personal, I will gut you.”
“Okay,” Kaminari pauses and stares up at the ceiling before snapping his fingers. “What do you really think of me?”
“You’re an idiot sometimes, but I’m glad we work in the same office and I don’t mind you having my back. Your hair looks ugly when slicked back, though, and I’m glad you decided not to keep the bowl cut from senior year.”
Kaminari stares back at him with wide eyes. “Dude, what the fuck?”
Bakugou groans, burying his face in his hands. “I think some old hag hit me with a truth quirk. Don’t ask me any questions again until it wears off or I will kill you.”
The rest of the day passes in silence, as Bakugou pins Kaminari with a glare any time he attempts to open his mouth. His paperwork swims in front of his eyes as he thinks back to that moment in the corner store and the words he almost blurted out ring through his brain.
Not yet. Not yet. Notyetnotyetnotyetnotyetnotyetnotyetnotyetnotyetnotyet.
Well, damn.
–
Bakugou doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, showing up at Kirishima’s door after being hit by a truth quirk of all things. Still, it’s like there’s some magnet pulling him towards the other idiot and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and pressing that bell. He hasn’t even changed out of his hero costume yet in his restlessness to get here.
“Bakugou! Hey, you didn’t say you were coming,” Kirishima answers the door with a bright smile.
He doesn’t ever tell Kirishima when he’s coming. He just shows up and expects to be accommodated, and for whatever reason, Kirishima lets him.
“Needed to give you something,” Bakugou says, shoving his way past Kirishima and kicking his shoes off in the entryway.
Kirishima quirks an eyebrow at that but doesn’t ask further, instead choosing to follow Bakugou inside and watch as he scrounges around in Kirishima’s fridge.
“Don’t you buy any groceries ever?” Bakugou grouses when he sees that it’s mostly just week-old leftovers of the things Bakugou’s cooked for him.
Kirishima shrugs, leaning back against the counter and watching with a smile on his face. “I don’t need to when you do it for me.”
He’s not entirely wrong, Bakugou realizes as he sets the grocery bags in his hands onto the counter. “Come here and help me organize these at least.” They make quick work of putting everything away, leaving out ingredients for dinner as Bakugou sets Kirishima on peeling and chopping duty while he focuses on the actual cooking.
They’ve always been like this, even without living together – coming home to one another after a long day of work to destress and just bask in the other’s company. Bakugou wonders what exactly is stopping him from taking that next step. From admitting, out loud, that he lo–
“Hey, the pot is overflowing!” Kirishima shouts out and Bakugou hurries to lower the heat with a curse.
“Shit, sorry, I got distracted,” he says, turning on the fan and waving away any smoke from charred puddles of soup leaking onto the stove.
Kirishima laughs, bending back over the cutting board. “I guess I can’t be the only one making mistakes in the kitchen all the time.”
With the soup simmering to the side, Bakugou leans back and stares, taking in the sight. Kirishima’s filled out over the years, growing into his quirk with broader shoulders and thicker limbs that carry countless people to safety year after year. He’s accumulated more scars, too, to match the one on his eyebrow – they cut across his arms and hands, on occasion his chest and back where Bakugou will trace them under the cover of the moonlight. Kirishima’s hair falls long and messy, brushing against his eyes when it isn’t gelled back as part of his hero costume.
Bakugou’s suddenly reminded of the hair clip stabbing into his thigh and he reaches down to pull it out, stepping forward to push Kirishima’s hair out of his face.
“What?” Kirishima asks, lifting his head up to watch as Bakugou stands there, breath hovering against Kirishima’s upper lip as he bunches Kirishima’s bangs together and sweeps it into the clip with steady hands.
“There, now you can stop blaming your hair on cutting your fingers,” Bakugou says, stepping back with a grin. Kirishima blushes, staring back at Bakugou for a moment before turning back to the cutting board and slicing thick, uneven chunks of scallions. “Cute,” Bakugou huffs with a laugh. He likes the way Kirishima’s face burns brighter, coloring to match his hair.
They eat dinner in relative silence, and Bakugou is grateful for that. He’s long since changed, hero costume discarded somewhere on Kirishima’s bedroom floor in exchange for one of Kirishima’s hoodies, hanging over his legs and down to his thighs.
After they share a few beers and the world starts to feel fuzzy, Kirishima laughs and tugs on Bakugou’s hand.
“Come on, Katsuki,” he whispers as if being too loud will somehow shatter the moment. “Let’s go to bed.”
Bakugou sits there for a moment, staring up at Kirishima where he’s haloed in the white fluorescent light of the kitchen before he lets himself get dragged up and to the bathroom where they stand side by side, watching each other as they brush their teeth. At one point, Kirishima manages to blow up a bubble that Bakugou pops, which leaves them giggling as they fall into each others’ sides, giddy from the alcohol running through their veins.
As they settle into bed and Kirishima flicks off the light before crawling in next to Bakugou’s side, Bakugou is tempted to say something, anything to confirm whether or not Kirishima understands what he’s feeling. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, though, and all he can do is press forward and tuck their hands together, lips moving lazily against Kirishima’s neck in hopes that it’s enough, and somehow, Kirishima will be able to understand.
Bakugou falls asleep with tears in his eyes.
–
From somewhere in the depths of his dream, Bakugou can feel himself running. He’s not sure where he’s going, whether he’s chasing or being chased, but he knows that whatever it is, he’s losing.
Shit.
He doesn’t like losing. Never has.
But every step he takes just seems to slow him down, take him another forty yards back.
“Bakugou!”
The voice echoes around him in the dark, and Bakugou opens his voice to answer and call back, “Hello! I’m here! I’m coming!” but nothing comes out.
He gasps, breath barely squeezing out of his lungs now as he struggles to reach the voice as it calls again, “Bakugou!”
He’s almost there, whatever it is. He can almost feel it on his fingertips, just one step further and then…
“Katsuki!”
Bakugou wakes with a gasp, seeing Kirishima’s dark outline hovering over him in bed, shaking him awake. “Wha– huh?”
Kirishima squints sleepily down at him, pulling him upright into a sitting position and dragging him out of bed. “We got an emergency call for assistance, there’s been an explosion a few blocks over. We should hurry.”
“Right, shit, okay,” Bakugou answers, still half asleep as his hands clutch at empty air around him, reaching for things that aren’t even there. Shaking his head, Bakugou grabs his hero costume up off the floor and hastily tugs it over his arms and head, fingers shaking as he laces up his boots. Beside him, Kirishima hurries to do the same, nearly tripping over himself in the dark as he tugs up his pants.
In just a few minutes, they’re ready to go and Bakugou hurries out the door, stifling a laugh as it nearly closes on Kirishima’s face.
Outside, it’s still dark as they jog through the streets, following the map on their phones. They don’t need it for long as the sounds of sirens wailing and people screaming hit their ears as they approach the center of the chaos.
They barely have time to nod to their fellow heroes as they dive in, Bakugou hurrying to pull out survivors while Kirishima provides support to structures, working in tandem as they always have.
“Over there,” Kirishima hisses, holding up the ceiling with both hands while he nods over to a corner where a small girl trembles as the building crumbles around her.
Bakugou hurries over, carefully lifting her up and into his arms while she looks on in silence. He doesn’t bother with words of reassurance, focusing instead on finding the safest way out.
“The room’s clear,” he says to Kirishima, and they hurry together out of the building. A paramedic intercepts him, trying to pull the girl out of his arms, but she clings onto him as tears finally begin to rise to her eyes. “Let go,” Bakugou whispers, tugging on her arms but she merely shakes her head and grips him tighter.
“Hey, it’s okay,” a voice calls over, jogging up to them and Bakugou turns to see Deku making his way over through the crowd. He smiles in greeting at Kirishima before pointing back to the ambulances. “Everybody’s accounted for, we’re just doing cleanup and structure relief now. You can stay with the girl until we find her parents.”
Sneering, Bakugou ignores Deku in favor of walking over to the makeshift tents where injured civilians are gathering. He notices Deku following him out of the corner of his vision and rolls his eyes. “What do you want, Deku.”
Raising his hands in front of him, Deku shrugs with a soft smile. “Nothing, Kacchan. It’s just good to see you two together.”
With that, he scampers off to be his annoyingly helpful self, and Bakugou shrugs off the strange moment.
“Do you know what the hell he was talking about, kid?” Bakugou asks the girl and she stares up at him in silence, shaking her head. “Me neither,” he agrees. It isn’t as if he hasn’t worked with Kirishima before.
Now that he thinks about it… Bakugou swivels his head around, trying to see if he can spot the usual flash of red in the crowd but frowns when he’s unable to locate it. “Shit,” he whispers, freezing in his tracks.
“Bad word.”
“What?” Bakugou turns to look at the little girl and she blinks up at him. “Right, sorry.” Kirishima’s fine, probably just showing off his quirk. Finding the girl’s parents comes first.
Bakugou continues to shuffle through the crowd, hoisting the girl up so she rests more comfortably on his hips. He stops people as he goes, asking if they recognize the girl or have seen her parents, without much luck. Around him, a few heroes continue to mill about, bringing in more injured. Some of them recognize him, and he gives them a nod in greeting only to receive a strange glance in return.
“I know I’m a dick but it’s not that strange to see me carrying you around, is it?” Bakugou asks the girl. She just snuggles her head closer into Bakugou’s neck, exhaustion overtaking her now that the adrenaline has worn off. “Yeah, me too,” he mumbles, walking slower now to avoid any bumps or jiggles.
When there’s no further luck in the rest of the tent, Bakugou stations himself near the entrance, figuring staying in one spot will be more useful than wandering around in circles for the rest of the night. Another one of the heroes comes by to tell him that he’s free to go, considering he doesn’t have a water quirk and Bakugou flips him off behind the girl’s back.
“Rude bitch.”
The girl nods, although Bakugou isn’t entirely sure how much of that she understands.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
“Kaori.”
“Not bad,” Bakugou muses, shifting so he can sit on the floor and stretch out his legs. Kaori quickly clambers into his lap before he can do much else, and he resigns himself to babysitting duty for the rest of the night. “How old are you, kid?”
Kaori raises a hand, stretching out all five fingers. And then she pops out her thumb from her other hand.
“Six? Kinda runty for a six year old,” Bakugou says and she merely shrugs in return. “Got a quirk?”
At that, she looks up at him, raising her hands again to show him a rippling of scales on her palms, beaming as she manages to make them come and go three times in quick succession.
Bakugou nods in approval. “Not bad. It’s not as cool as mine, but depending on how tough they are, it could be a useful quirk. You know my friend, Kirishima? He was there earlier, holding up the ceiling. He’s got a pretty decent quirk, too. Not flashy, but dependable.”
He’s not sure if it’s the aftereffects of yesterday’s quirk, or maybe Kaori is just a good listener, but he sits there, rambling to her about Kirishima as she stares up at him, drinking in his every word.
Just as his legs are starting to buzz with pins and needles, Bakugou feels Kaori shift in his lap before bolting upright and running forward with a shout.
“Mama!”
With a groan, Bakugou pulls himself up and follows shortly behind, watching to make sure Kaori doesn’t trip.
“Mama, this hero helped me!”
The crowd parts to reveal Kaori jumping up and down in the arms of a woman Bakugou recognizes.
“Oh, thank you, sir, for helping my…” The woman stands slowly, trailing off as she takes in Bakugou’s form from head to toe and he frowns, jutting out his chin.
That goddamn reporter.
“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, crossing his arms. Bakugou would like to run away, but with Kaori gripping onto his pant leg, it’s a little more difficult than last time.
“So, it’s true then?” she asks and it’s as if even in the midst of a disaster, she can’t seem to let go of her goddamn job.
“The fuck is true?” Bakugou hisses, trying to tug himself out of Kaoir’s vice grip.
The reporter points at him with a laugh, and it’s only then that Bakugou’s eyes catch sight of the pants he’s wearing. The black and red pants, with a belt emblazoned with a giant red ‘R’ on it.
Bakugou feels his mouth open and close helplessly before he huffs a sigh and answers, “Yeah, I’m in love with him. But we’re not dating. Yet.”
Her eyes flick down to her daughter, and she seems to be relieved when she notices that Bakugou’s hands are covering her ears. “I didn’t think you would answer.”
Bakugou shrugs. “Truth quirk. It happens.”
“Right,” she answers with a soft smile, reaching out to pull Kaori away. “Well, thank you. Again.”
Bakugou grunts, kicking at the ground in embarrassment. At least he’s wearing his own boots.
“And, don’t worry,” she calls out, just as he’s turning away. When he quirks and eyebrow back at her, the reporter smiles, patting Kaori’s head. “I won’t publish anything.”
Letting out a breath that fogs up the chill winter air in front of him, Bakugou laughs. “No, publish it. I don’t care. Anyway,” he continues, gesturing at the people around them, some with their phones out recording the incident. “Doesn’t seem like much of a secret anymore.”
He walks away then, leaving Kaori waving at him eagerly as he looks for his own family among the throng of people.
“Bakugou! Over here,” Kirishima’s voice calls out. Bakugou weaves through the crowd until he can huddle in close to Kirishima, somehow still radiating heat in the wintertime as he stands next to the ambulances wearing the familiar green, black and orange pants of Bakugou’s hero uniform. “Where have you been?”
“Fighting bad guys, duh,” he responds with a huff. “Let’s go home, idiot.”
So maybe the truth quirk wore off a while back. But the courage it brought lasts forever.
“Hey,” Bakugou says, coming to a stop. “I love you.”
Kirishima smiles, blinding and white.
“I love you, too.”