Chapter Text
PART 1A: Kirishima with Kirishima’s Bakugo
[aka, single Kirishima is in the universe where Kirishima and Bakugo are dating]
[Single Kirishima’s POV]
The Lego Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight figure that appeared on Kirishima’s keyring should have been the first clue that something wasn’t quite right. But he wasn’t phased. Kirishima merely grinned a the cute little character and its cocky smirk that perfectly matched his roommate’s. Someone had attached it to the ring along side his well-worn acrylic, Crimson Riot keychain.
It must have been Kaminari, he decided, and didn’t give it much thought other than making the mental note to thank his friend for the gift.
Kirishima had just returned from his patrol after he and Midoriya finished apprehending a group of villains. Though the villains managed to get the jump on the pair, the group was nothing two of the top heroes couldn’t handle. Only one of the villains had touched Kirishima and successfully activated their quirk, but it hadn’t left any lasting effects. Kirishima guessed it was a teleportation quirk, because in a single blink, he and the man had moved several feet away. Kirishima had since been checked out by the medical staff, he was cleared to head home and spend a couple days relaxing with Bakugo, Kirishima’s best friend, roommate, and long-term secret crush.
When he entered the small apartment, Bakugo was relaxing on the sofa watching the news coverage about the very same fight.
“A teleportation quirk, huh?” Bakugo didn’t even bother looking up.
“Yeah, no big deal.”
“You should be more careful next time.”
“Yes, sir.” Kirishima responded jokingly has he placed his keys on one of the designated hooks next to Bakugo’s. Hanging from the other hero’s key ring was Kirishima’s likeness—a Lego Red Riot.
“Did Kaminari come by earlier?” Kirishima asked.
“Pikachu? No. Why?”
Before Kirishima could respond, he inadvertently rammed his thigh into the corner of the wooden dining table. “Ouch! Shit! Did you move the table or something?”
The table was where it had always been, crammed between the kitchen and living room in their small apartment, but it was an inch or two out of place, just enough for Kirishima’s muscle memory to lead him right into it.
That was clue number two.
“Why would I?” Bakugo stood up. As he passed toward the kitchen he paused in front of Kirishima. “Welcome home.”
Bakugo placed a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder, lifted his heels just enough to bring his face level with Kirishima’s and kissed him right on the lips.
That was clue number three.
Kirishima was too stunned to react, and his brain was too busy steaming to process. It was just a peck—the briefest of touches—but Kirishima burned where they’d touched and it sent his face ablaze.
“You stink. Get in the shower.” Bakugo continued his path towards the kitchen as though nothing had just happened, as though they hadn’t just shared their very first kiss.
Like a robot, Kirishima marched into the bathroom with his fingers pressed to his lips.
The way Bakugo had acted, it was as though nothing unusual had happened—like they’d done this every day! Kirishima might have thought he’d hallucinated it, but he could still feel the press of Bakugo’s kiss… the way his warmth passed through his skin…
Was it meant as a joke? Like kissing his boo-boo after he’d hurt himself on the table? No, then it would make more sense for Bakugo to kiss his leg, not his lips.
The image of Bakugo on his knees, rubbing his cheek against Kirishima’s thigh, lips parting…
It was an all too familiar fantasy in his bank of five hundred Bakugo related scenarios. Usually Kirishima waited until he was at least in the shower to release the erotic fantasies. Something about coming home after a chaotic shift to Bakugo—his best friend, the one he trusted more than anyone else—made him very incredibly horny.
The domestic bliss of Bakugo kissing him when he came home was also one of his frequently visited fantasies, but it had never been a hallucination before. Kirishima though Bakugo would explode him across the room if he ever got an inkling of what was going on inside Kirishima’s perverted brain. Or at least, that’s what he’d assumed…
Kirishima slapped his cheeks and the sound consumed the small bathroom.
In a daze, Kirishima set his phone on the counter. If he’d bothered to check his phone after his patrol, he would have discovered another important clue: a selfie of himself and Bakugo set as the lock screen. But at present, said photo of Kirishima pressing a kiss onto Bakugo’s cheek went unnoticed, hidden behind a dark screen.
After leaving his clothes in a crumpled heap, Kirishima climbed under the warm shower water and tried desperately to forget his half-hard cock. He’d touched himself thousands of times while thinking of Bakugo—usually with some level of guilt. But no matter how much Bakugo’s kiss, and tender eyes, had aroused him, Kirishima didn’t want to muddle his mind any more while he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
Maybe the quirk Kirishima had been exposed to had a greater effect than he’d thought. Or maybe Bakugo been affected by someone’s quirk to make him act that way? Was Kirishima one lusty impulse away from taking advantage of his long time crush? He should have asked Bakugo about his day as soon as he’d seen him, damnit! What if he’d missed something important!
There really must be something he missed…
Shampoo slipped into Kirishima’s eye, and he hissed as he tried to wash it out. During the chaos in his heart and brain, Kirishima failed to notice the bathroom door opening to let a figure slip inside. He didn’t notice Bakugo pushing Kirishima’s scattered clothes into a pile, nor did he notice Bakugo adding his own to the mound.
Kirishima didn’t notice a damned thing until Bakugo standing behind him in the shower.
“Wha… what are you doing?” Kirishima babbled out.
Kirishima really must be hallucinating. Bakugo was fully naked with his own partial erection hanging heavy between his legs. Kirishima had seen Bakugo’s length before in locker rooms and public baths, but never like this. Never so pointedly directed at him. Regardless of his fantasies taking on a life of their own, Kirishima still tried to disguise his guilty erection behind his palms. Given the way Bakugo’s eyes scanned him up and down, he didn’t conceal a thing.
“Pfft. Look at you trying to act surprised.” Bakugo nodded towards Kirishima’s groin. “Seems like you already knew I was planning on joining you.”
The space was barely large enough for two full grown men, even if they could avoid touching each other, Bakugo was still willfully stepping into Kirishima’s space, letting their chests brushed together.
With no explanation, Bakugo grabbed the back of Kirishima’s neck and pulled his head down into a kiss. This was nothing like the first. It was open mouthed, wet and needy. Kirishima lost all sense when Bakugo’s tongue brushed against his own. He grabbed Bakugo’s hips and pulled him closer as he’d imagined doing a million times.
No questions asked. No answers needed.
Not just yet, anyway.
Kirishima pressed Bakugo against the tile wall. One of Bakugo’s arms wrapped around the back of Kirishima’s neck, the other snaked down to where their rigged cocks pressed together. Kirishima moaned shamefully as Bakugo’s long fingers wrapped around the both of them. He started slow, teasing. Kirishima buck up into his hold, desperate for more friction.
“Fuck.” Bakugo pulled away from the kiss to smirk against Kirishima’s ear and whisper. “You’re needy today.”
Kirishima couldn’t deny it. He was always needy, but now his resolve had finally shattered.
Bakugo nibbled the crescent of Kirishima’s ear before leaving wet kisses on his jaw… neck… shoulder…
“Bakugo.” Kirishima moaned.
Bakugo chuckled against his skin. “What’s with you today, Eijiro? You trying to do some kind of high school role play or some—”
His words cut off and he pulled back so Kirishima could get a good look as his narrowing eyes. The hand pleasuring their cocks stilled, and his fingers slid along Kirishima’s collarbone where it still tingled from the touch of his lips.
“Did someone heal you with their quirk today?” Bakugo’s tone had run cold, but Kirishima was running too hot to notice.
“No.” Kirishima said. “No, I didn’t get hurt. Why?”
Bakugo’s eyes shot open and filled with red. His palm slammed into Kirishima’s throat, tightened his fingers around his neck and slammed his head agains the tile wall and held him in place.
“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!”
“Baku… it’s me… Kirish—” Kirishima’s voice was cut off by tightening fingers.
“Like fuck you are! What happened to your… your bruises? And why are you acting weird? WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE WITH EIJIRO!?!”
“What…” What bruises? Bakugo’s fingers were too tight for Kirishima to answer anything even if he knew what the hell Bakugo was talking about.
Kirishima hesitated to antagonize Bakugo further with the use of his quirk. Bakugo’s hands were wet, dampening the us of his own quirk and he wasn’t about to kill Kirishima by strangling him if he wanted answers—or so Kirishima hoped. There was also something in Bakugo’s eyes. Anger and hate for sure, but Kirishima knew that Bakugo used those emotions as a mask for the deeper ones. Peering closer, Kirishima could see fear. Fear for the Kirishima he didn’t believe stood in front of him.
But, why…?
Thinking quickly, Kirishima activated his hardening, but only around his eyes. It was enough for Bakugo to see that he had possession of his quirk, which was one sign that Kirishima was who he said he was. Then he gently tapped on the hand clutched around his throat.
Bakugo’s eyes cooled only a touch. But it was just enough to realize that he couldn’t get answers out of the man he was choking to death. Bakugo loosened his hand and Kirishima slid to the shower floor coughing for breath. In the same moment, Bakugo darted out of the shower, dried his hands on a towel then wrapped it around his waist.
Now outside of the shower, Bakugo directed his palm, already crackling with explosive energy, in Kirishima’s direction.
“Talk!” He demanded with a snarl.
Before Kirishima could get any words out, the room was filled with a happy jingle emanating from Kirishima’ phone.
Since Kirishima had a different ringtone selected for each of their friends, coworkers, and cohort, they both knew who was calling by the sound alone. Without taking his eyes off Kirishima, Bakugo used one hand to fumble for the phone sitting on the counter.
“Deku” Bakugo growled into the phone.
The speaker wasn’t turned on, but the small space amplified the sound so Kirishima could clearly hear his friend’s voice on the other end.
“Oh, Kacchan! Good, you should hear this too.” Midoriya said. “Is Kirishima there with you?”
“What the fuck is this about, Deku?”
Midoriya was familiar with this kind of greeting so he wasn’t phased. “It’s about the villains that Kirishima-kun and I fought today. I don’t know if he told you yet, but there was one with a sand quirk, one with a—”
“Get to the point, Deku!”
“Well, see, one of them used their quirk on Kirishima and he thought it was a teleportation quirk since he noticed moving several feet in an instant. But no one, including myself, saw him actually teleport. I thought it was a bit weird so I asked for the police to get back to me after looking into that person’s background.”
“And?”
“And it seems to be some kind of quirk that swaps a person with their counterparts in a parallel universe.”
“WHAT!?!” Bakugo’s palm nearly exploded. “I swear to fucking… if you two are fucking with me, I’m gonna—!”
“Kacchan! Kacchan!” Midoriya’s tinny voice rang through the phone. “Calm down, everything’s gonna be ok.”
“You want me to be calm after telling me my boyfriend got swapped to another universe?”
“Boyfriend!?!” Kirishima finally chimed in. His head was spinning for all kinds of reasons, and he didn’t know which was more shocking, that he was in a parallel universe, or that in this one, he and Bakugo were… were…
Kirishima’s heart was fluttering at the mere thought of it.
This certainly explained some things.
“Oh, good. Kirishima-kun is there.” Midoriya said having heard his voice.
“How do we fix it?” Bakugo growled.
“According to the quirk user and his previous record with a similar incident, we just have to wait. It shouldn’t last more than twelve hours, then they should swap back on their own. During questioning, the quirk user said that there wasn’t a lot of energy put into activating his quirk, so the universe this Kirishima is from shouldn’t be that different from this one.”
“So you’re saying we can trust him?”
Kirishima sat up and nodded with the biggest, puppy-est eyes he could muster. Other than his relationship status with this Bakugo (and the dining table), Kirishima hadn’t noticed anything amiss about this universe, so he felt safe.
“Most likely.” Midoriya answered. “Just keep an eye on him mainly for his safety. We don’t know all the ways our universe is different from his, so it’s best if you two stay in your apartment for the night. I’m sure the Kacchan in his universe is doing the same for Kirishima-kun.”
There was a heavy silence and Bakugo flicked his eyes away from Kirishima for the first time since attacking him and his palm lowered an inch. If Kirishima could read this Bakugo as well as his own, than this man was probably feeling worried for his boyfriend and a little guilty for attacking this Kirishima so roughly… but only a little.
“It’s actually really fascinating.” Midoriya chimed in to fill the silence with characteristic rambling. “PollyGraph was able to get a lot of information about the quirk during questioning. It seems…”
After letting him ramble for ten seconds, Bakugo cut Midoriya off by abruptly ending the call. Now all of his attention was on Kirishima, and he glared down at him for a long while, assessing him. Kirishima could see the gears turning, but couldn’t read the verdict.
He knew this Bakugo wouldn't hurt him without reason. But if he decided not to trust Kirishima, there were plenty of other things he could do. Was he going to lock him in the bathroom till the quirk wore off? Make him sleep in the tub? Burn all of his hair off for daring to kiss him back???
Finally Bakugo huffed, turned away, and left the bathroom, taking the phone with him.
“Dinner’s gonna to be ready soon.” Bakugo grumbled. “Get up and get dressed. I’m assuming you know where to find some clothes.”
PART 1B: Bakugo with Bakugo’s Kirishima
[aka, boyfriend Kirishima is in the universe where Kirishima and Bakugo are just roommates]
[Single Bakugo’s POV]
When Bakugo’s best friend/roommate/long-term secret crush, Kirishima, returned home after patrol, there were several signs that something wasn’t quite right.
First, was when Kirishima sulked over the keychain he’d supposedly lost. But when Bakugo glanced over at the set hanging by the door, Crimson Riot was still hanging there, as manly and dinged-up as ever.
Second, was when Kirishima ran into the dining room table and accused Bakugo of moving it. Kirishima wasn’t usually a mindless klutz, but it had been long day, so Bakugo gave him a pass.
But those clues only revealed themselves in hindsight, and didn't add up to much until the bigger clues would announced themselves later.
“A teleportation quirk, huh?” Bakugo had the habit of keeping the news on when Kirishima was out on patrol. It wasn’t like Bakugo had anything to worry about—his roommate was one of the top heroes after all—it was just that if anything did happen, he wanted to know about it as soon as possible.
“Yeah, no big deal.”
Without even looking back at Kirishima, Bakugo forced his tone to be as casual as possible. “You should be more careful next time.”
He’d seen from the news coverage that Kirishima wasn’t injured so he shouldn’t look like he cared too much. If Bakugo jumped up and fawned over Kirishima, like and idiot… like he wanted to… the thick-skulled Kirishima might actually pick up on Bakugo’s true feelings: feelings stronger than a best friend or roommate.
“You got it, babe!” Kirishima said.
Bakugo heart skipped at the unexpected endearment.
“What did you call me?” Bakugo barked out in embarrassment, but he hoped it sounded like he was pissed. He was good at sounding pissed, but Kirishima was eerily good at reading him—for most things anyway.
“I called you babe, babe.”
“S-stop messing around.” Bakugo growled. Kirishima loved to come up with random names for him, but none had ever triggered him quite like this. He kept his face turned away so Kirishima couldn’t see his heated cheeks, but he knew his ears were burning at the tips. He didn’t want Kirishima to notice how much he simultaneously loved and hated the endearment. As much as Bakugo ached for the pet name, it only reminded Bakugo that they weren't lovers.
Kirishima chuckled, but it sounded a touch hesitant or confused. “Whatever you say, babe.”
Bakugo ignored the last comment and willed his body to calm down. Focus on the task at hand: dinner.
By the time Bakugo reached Kirishima on the way to the kitchen, he’d dropped his temper act. He intended to pass by, but Kirishima stopped him with a gentle hand on his upper arm.
“I’m home.” Kirishima said belatedly with grin.
“Welcome home.” Bakugo retuned casually. When Kirishima continued to stare at him, Bakugo added, “What?”
Kirishima looked like he was expecting something.
“Hungry?” Bakugo asked. “Dinner shouldn’t be long, I just have to…”
For some reason unknown to Bakugo, Kirishima pulled out his big, dopey, puppy-eyed pout and leaned into Bakugo’s space.
What’s was he playing around for?
Once their faces mere inches apart, Bakugo pushed Kirishima away and continued towards the kitchen.
“You stink.” Bakugo said. “Get in the shower.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Kirishima hesitate, then practically sulked into the bathroom.
The fuck was wrong with him? Bakugo should be the one pouting with the way his heart was being wrenched around.
Since living together, they’d established a common routine for when Kirishima was on patrol and Bakugo had the day off: when Kirishima came back home, Bakugo would finish making dinner while Kirishima showered. During this time, Bakugo would always play a little game with himself, it was called the pretend-my-sexy-roommate-isn’t-naked-in-the-shower game. It was an awful game, and Bakugo hated it, but it was far better than shaming himself while rutting against the kitchen counter.
The bathroom was on the other side of a thin wall, so he could hear the water running among other things… Sometimes he could hear low moans and grunts and Bakugo could only imaging how Kirishima was touching himself. On those days, Bakugo would loose the game immediately, and shamefully rub himself to the sounds of his best friend getting off. It was then a race against the clock to relieve himself and return to cooking before Kirishima could suspect a thing. Today, thankfully, was not one of those days. But Kirishima’s endearment of “babe” still echoed in his head and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stay focused.
For fuck sake, he needed to get a grip.
Several minutes after the shower turned off and the hair dryer stopped blowing, Bakugo was busy chopping raw vegetable. Hearing Kirishima’s bare feet on the floor, Bakugo glanced back just long enough to see Kirishima entering the kitchen without a shirt. Bakugo gritted his teeth. He hated when Kirishima waltzed around without a shirt on. It was bad enough in his hero costume, but to go around the apartment, still radiating shower heat, hair brushing his bare shoulders, and wafting the scent of body wash was far, far worse.
Bakugo spun his head back around to tell Kirishima to put a shirt on, but his words caught in his throat when he saw them: dark spots along his neck and collar bone.
Hickeys!?!
Bakugo nearly bit his tongue off. He turned back to the awful, villainous vegetables, deserving of death and began to destroy them with his knife.
DIE! DIE! DIE!
Where the fuck did Kirishima get those marks? When the fuck did he get those? Who THE-LIVING-FUCK did he got those from?
Bakugo grit his teeth and tried to calm down. It was a mistake agreeing to be roommates since the majority of his energy was spent either fixating on Kirishima or trying to pretend he wasn’t fixating on him. They weren’t in a relationship, so it wasn’t any of Bakugo’s business what sort of business Kirishima got into with people that weren’t him. Or at least, he kept reminding himself of that.
Believe it or not, Bakugo had gotten much better at managing his emotions since high school, which was the only reason he wasn’t frothing at the mouth. He’d nearly managed to shove his feelings six-feet under to lay dormant for at least five minutes until Kirishima’s arms wrap around his waist.
Bakugo’s voice came out remarkably flat. “The fuck are you doing?”
Kirishima’s body pressed flush to Bakugo’s back, and the heat passed through Bakugo’s thin shirt into his core. It was common for Kirishima to touch him like this. In fact, Bakugo had become accustomed to it, and was skilled at disguising the arousal and guilt that came with every single touch. Kirishima, this overly friendly, overly touchy, kind of person had no idea the lewd thoughts running through his roommate’s mind.
Kirishima placed his chin on Bakugo’s shoulder and asked with a tiny voice, “Did I do something?”
“What are you talking about?” Bakugo wanted to melt, but he forced himself to sound like stone.
“Why are you mad at me?” Kirishima tilted his head so his face pressed into the crook of Bakugo’s neck.
Too close! Bakugo gripped the knife but stopped chopping so he didn’t lose a finger.
“I’m not mad at you.” A growl slipped out with his words, betraying just the tip of his emotional iceberg. Those emotions were called: wanting to murder whomever left marks on Kirishima’s body.
“Then why didn’t you kiss me when I got home?” Kirishima mumbled into Bakugo’s skin.
The fuck!?!
“Did you hit your fucking head, shitty hair!?!” Bakugo barked out. He was not appreciating this sort of joke, nor the way Kirishima’s lips brushed against his skin when he spoke.
“See, you are mad.” Kirishima whined softly.
“I’m not—”
Bakugo’s voice cut off when he felt those soft, warm lips press firmly against his skin.
It must have been an accident.
“I’m not—” Bakugo tried again, but again Kirishima pressed a kiss into his neck.
One of Kirishima’s hands rose to span Bakugo’s stomach, and his nose nuzzled just below Bakugo’s jaw before replacing it with another kiss.
What the fuck was going on? Bakugo should throw him off. This joke had breached uncharted territory and Bakugo wasn’t sure what he would do when pushed too far. But he was frozen in place, aching for one more touch from Kirishima. Just one more moment. One more chance to melt back against him.
“Is it because I worried you?” Kirishima’s lips pressed into Bakugo’s skin, muffling his voice.
“I wasn’t…” The lie failed to escape.
“Or because I left before you woke this morning?”
“K-Kiri… what…”
A gentle hand brushed the side of Bakugo’s chin and tilted his head to the side.
Then Kirishima’s lips pressed into his.
It was gentle and soft kiss, like Kirishima was testing the raging waters called Bakugo Katsuki. But when Bakugo didn’t throw him off—didn’t do anything but freeze—Kirishima kissed him again. And again. The gentle kisses became firmer and lingered longer. Soon Kirishima was nibbling and sucking on Bakugo’s lower lip that softened under Kirishima’s touch.
How can he be so good at this? Who has he been kissing? But the thoughts were swallowed up when Kirishima’s tongue slipped into his mouth.
The knife rattled against the cutting board where it dropped and mangled carrots scattered to the floor. But Bakugo didn’t notice. All things were forgotten except for Kirishima pressing against him—pushing into him—stroking his tongue, his skin…
Bakugo’s body trembled, and he had no idea what he should do. But Kirishima pushed forward with confidence like they’d done this a hundred times before. Kirishima carefully slid the cutting board away from the counters edge, then man-handled Bakugo by his hips, rotating him and lifting him onto the edge of the counter so he sat with Kirishima nestled between his legs.
Kirishima had grown a couple inches taller than Bakugo, but in this position Bakugo had to lean down to continue kissing him, and he did so without hesitation. They moaned into each other and Kirishima tenderly slid his hands along Bakugo’s body, slipping under his shirt to feel his chest and stomach. Bakugo kept his hands on Kirishima’s shoulders, gripping them tight to make sure Kirishima didn’t move away from him. But Kirishima only pushed closer so Bakugo’s hard-on pressed into his abs. Bakugo flinched, but Kirishima’s hands on his lower back pulled him forward, pressing him even closer.
This was clearly no longer a joke… this was real… Bakugo needed to slow down and think.
Bakugo managed to pull away from the kiss, but his mind was still a slow churning mess. Undeterred, Kirishima kissed down to Bakugo’s neck and to the collar of his shirt. There, he tugged the fabric down to expose more skin. Kirishima nibbled and sucked along Bakugo’s collarbone.
He was probably leaving marks…
“W-wait.”
Bakugo’s mind cleared and his eyes opened to the bruises right in front of him. The hickeys scattering Kirishima’s neck and chest were staring up at him, mocking him.
This wasn't a joke, but was Kirishima playing with him? The fucker! What kind of audacity stick had struck Kirishima’s horny ass that he thought he could get all handsy with Bakugo after getting marked up by someone else!
“Kirishima! S-stop.”
Not listening, Kirishima’s hand slipped down the back of Bakugo’s sweat pants and into his briefs, giving one of his cheeks a firm squeeze. Bakugo’s lower half crooned while his upper half raged. He dug his nails into Kirishima’s shoulders.
“Stop!”
In response, Kirishima moaned and nibbled at Bakugo’s skin. This wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. Kirishima wouldn’t go this far. Kirishima would listen.
Finally all the clues clicked: this person wasn’t Kirishima.
“FUCK OFF!”
An explosion caught Kirishima in the chest and it threw him into the counter on the opposite side of the narrow kitchen. He recovered quickly, having used his hardening quirk to protect himself from most of the surprise attack, but he remained where he landed with a red mark in his chest.
“Whoa, hey, sorry!” Kirishima held his hands up in a placating manner. “I didn’t hear you say the safe word.”
“Safe word!?! What safe— WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”
The man’s brow was creased in worry. “Katsuki, it’s me, babe. Eijiro. Your boyfriend!”
Someone was trying to rip Bakugo's heart from his chest. Who the fuck was this imposter using his feelings to mock him?
“Like hell you are! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE WITH KIRISHIMA!?!”
Before the person pretending to be Kirishima could answer, a happy jingle emitted from the imposter’s pocket.
Deku was calling. Since he and Kirishima had just been on patrol together, this wasn’t likely a coincidence.
“Take it out.” Bakugo demanded with a growl. “Slowly. I need you alive, but you’ve got a limb or two to spare.”
Kirishima did just as he was told and slid it over to Bakugo when bidden. Bakugo cautiously picked up the phone and answered it.
“Deku,” Bakugo growled into the phone.
“Oh, Kacchan! Good, you should hear this too.” Deku said. “Is Kirishima-kun there with you?”
Bakugo couldn’t answer the question. He didn’t know, and that terrified him.
“What the fuck is this about, Deku?”
The Deku of this universe gave an explanation very similar to the Deku of the other universe, and the Bakugo of this universe ended up with feelings very similar to the Bakugo of the other universe. Except, instead of vocalizing his concerns for his Kirishima-boyfriend (because he doesn’t have a Kirishima-boyfriend), he ends up growling out, “He thinks we’re boyfriends.”
There is a heavy silence on the phone before Deku finally says, “You’re not?”
Even the Kirishima from another universe looked shocked.
“What?” Bakugo barked out.
“Well, it’s just… we all assumed, you know… I mean, neither of you ever said anything, but you’re always together, and you guys are pretty much touching all the time. When we’re out you’re always glaring at strangers that try to get close to Kirishima…”
Deku carried on like this for five more seconds as Bakugo’s face became increasingly heated before Bakugo cut him off by ending the call.
Bakugo would call Deku back on his own phone later to make sure this wasn’t part of an even larger trick. But for now, he scrutinized this supposed-Kirishima with a steady glare.
The man continued to sit on the floor. His body posture was open, and though not entirely relaxed, he wasn’t acting defensive in front of the person that had just exploded him across the room. He was giving Bakugo the same, large-eyed puppy dog pout that tugged at Bakugo’s heart strings, and it both softened and pissed him off at the same time. Fuck. If this was some kind of elaborate trick, it was a good one.
Less than 12 hours, Deku had said. He could manage that, right?
“Dinner’s almost ready.” Bakugo said flatly. “Go put a fucking shirt on.”