#also forgive the abrupt mention of tears lol-

[thelingering]

aaaaa tearing up- out of joy and love of course. actually tonight there's a hint of confusion, but luckily love's always the answer

[thatgirlonstage]

Could I request... BNHA (manga), Bakushima, a scenario where they've been clearly into each other for a while but Bakugou is Oblivious™ and Kirishima tries to get him to see it but in vain and so eventually Kirishima has to just... whack Bakugou over the head with it (figuratively or literally) ?

… *slides you a copy of the manga*

jk of course I’ll write that but like. Is that not also basically their canon dynamic lol.

Forgive my characterization, it’s the first time I’ve really tried to write these two. Also this got… long. Like I love it, but it’s Long. :/

Warning: SERIOUS MANGA SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP ON THE MANGA.

Kirishima might have the hardest head in all of UA – rivaled only, perhaps, by Tetsutetsu – but he didn’t think he’d ever met anyone as dense as Bakugou Katsuki.

It had really started, he supposed, that first night in the dorms. After the whole “King of the Rooms” business had wound down, and after their conversation with Tsu, Kirishima had come downstairs in the quiet, unable to sleep. Bakugou was sprawled across the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

“I thought you went to bed,” Kirishima mentioned casually.

“You were all being so fucking noisy I couldn’t sleep,” Bakugou shot back, but there was no venom in it. Kirishima leaned on his elbows on the back of the sofa, next to Bakugou.

“Satou won the room contest, but only because he gave everyone cake,” he said.

“Like I care about your stupid room contest.”

“Yeah, the room contest thing was kinda stupid, but Satou’s cake was really good.” He licked his lips at the memory.

“What kind?” Bakugou asked shortly. Kirishima glanced sideways at him. His eyes were still firmly fixed on the ceiling, and he was still sneering, but he sat waiting for the answer.

“Chiffon. Super sugary. Well, that makes sense for him I guess. It would make my teeth ache eventually, and I guess it’s not an especially manly thing to eat,” he laughed. “But I’ll save a piece for you next time.” Bakugou didn’t respond for so long that Kirishima started to stand up and leave. When he finally did speak, it was so sudden that Kirishima almost fell over.

“My dad likes baking.” Steadying himself with a hand pressed into the sofa, Kirishima turned fully toward Bakugou, unable to stop himself raising an eyebrow.

“And you like setting his bread and cakes on fire?” he asked. Bakugou’s face knitted into a snarl, finally turning to look at him.

“I don’t just set everything on fire!” he shouted. Kirishima stood, crossing his arms, meeting Bakugou’s glare with skepticism, until, abruptly and unexpectedly, it melted away, and Bakugou flopped his head back against the sofa, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “He really does make good cakes, when he gets a chance to.” Kirishima hovered for a long moment, uncertain whether he ought to leave or not. Bakugou stayed silent. The only noise was the gentle breeze from the air vent. Kirishima began to walk back towards the door.

“I’ll make sure he bakes one if you ever visit,” Bakugou said. Kirishima stopped dead, a jolt of electricity racing up his spine. Slowly, he returned to his previous position, leaning over the back of the sofa.

“I have an uncle who’s a fisherman,” he said into the quiet. “Whenever I spend the weekend at his place he has the best fish I’ve ever tasted, they’re so fresh.”

Kirishima didn’t quite recall how it happened, only that they stayed down there, talking about nothing in particular until the sun came up. He remembered he never came around the sofa to just sit down, but at some point leaned so far he slid over the top of it, his head hanging down off the cushions, his legs still hooked over the top. He stayed there until the extra blood flow to his head started making him feel dizzy and he flipped upright, sitting next to Bakugou, both their arms flung out to the side yet carefully never touching. Neither of them said a word about it the next day, or let out a peep of complaint about being tired.

Bakugou was never easy to talk to, but after that he seemed like he finally wanted to talk to Kirishima. He would be rude and abrupt, but he wouldn’t shut him away from conversations – at least, not usually. There was the night he and Midoriya came from whatever fight they’d had, both of them black and blue with bruises, Bakugou’s eyes red as if from tears. He’d shoved Kirishima bodily away when he tried to ask what happened, tiny firebursts in his palm warning of the potential for a real explosion. Kirishima stepped back and didn’t ask again, not even as the weeks went by and Bakugou still refused to say a word about what had happened.

But most of the time, there was an element of his brutal honesty that Kirishima appreciated and respected. There was intelligence and calculation behind it. He wasn’t afraid of Bakugou, which he supposed helped – Bakugou’s explosions couldn’t hurt him unless he really decided he wanted to attack, and Kirishima trusted he wouldn’t do that.

There were days and nights when Bakugou would vent his rage to Kirishima, or occasionally on Kirishima’s room – he cringed at some of the burn marks left on his desk – but more often than not those nights ended calmly. He’d been almost frightened the first time the rage had just vanished out of Bakugou and he’d dropped like a rag doll into the chair next to him, muttering “Stupid fucking Deku,” as an end to a twenty-minute rant about Midoriya. He’d been quiet for almost five whole minutes before Bakugou snapped, “Are you going to say something or should I just leave?” They’d talked for three hours before Bakugou finally left for bed.

Kirishima had been waiting for a while for Bakugou to say something. He didn’t particularly want to make the first move himself, since Bakugou usually reacted to any display of serious emotion with SHUT UP YOU FUCKER I DON’T NEED TO WASTE MY TIME HEARING ABOUT THIS SHIT. But really, it was getting a bit ridiculous. He would have settled for actions over words, since that was more Bakugou’s modus operandi anyway, but Bakugou never initiated anything physical, even if he never jerked away when Kirishima’s arm or leg “accidentally” came to rest against his own. It wasn’t until Aoyama made some jibe about Uraraka and Midoriya’s occasional awkward flirting and Bakugou responded with a completely vacant look that it even occurred to Kirishima that Bakugou might not know how he felt.

Watching his conversations a bit more closely now, Kirishima realized with a sinking feeling that he was right. Bakugou had no idea how Kirishima felt about him. He tried getting more blatant, at first. He was no flirter, and Bakugou wouldn’t have responded well in any case, but he tried to slide suggestion and innuendo into the conversation from time to time. With his quirk, some jokes were almost too easy, and, he would have thought, painfully obvious. Yet, they provoked no reaction. He tried inching closer to him, so those occasional thigh touches became a constant of their talks. No reaction. He blatantly grabbed Bakugou’s knee and squeezed it when he was upset. That earned him the briefest quizzical look and absolutely nothing more.

He had a forty-eight hour crisis where he wondered if he was going insane and had misread every single signal Bakugou had given him. Maybe Bakugou wasn’t even gay, and Kirishima was about to walk into the biggest mistake of his life. He went to Mina in panic. She watched him, staring curiously, as he paced back and forth, tearing at his spiky hair. When he was done pouring out his insecurities, she held up a finger, and returned a moment later with Tsu.

“We don’t really know what to think about Bakugou being in a relationship,” Mina giggled. “But Tsu and I agree, if he has feelings for anyone, it’s definitely you.”

“What if he doesn’t have feelings for me at all, though?” Kirishima asked. His hair hung down and loose about his face as he tugged at it nervously. “What if he’s just my friend? I’m going to fuck that up completely if I say something.”

“You have to say what you’re thinking, Kirishima,” Tsu said, her wide eyes fixed on him. “It’s Bakugou. He’s probably too scared to admit he feels anything unless you say something first.”

“Bakugou. Scared.” Kirishima said flatly. Mina burst into giggles. Tsu ribbited.

“When it comes to feelings?” Mina asked. “Bakugou is terrified of those. Scared to admit he has a ‘weakness’? Abso-lutely.” She leaned back on her hand, grinning and winking at Kirishima, waving him out of her room. “Go on, lover boy, let us know how it goes.” He’d left somewhat comforted, but nowhere near ready to actually talk to Bakugou.

Bakugou came by less once Kirishima was off at his internship, busy with his remedial classes and still nursing the humiliation of having failed the provisional license exam, while Kirishima would drop into bed exhausted each night after the double work of his internship and continuing classes. Still, the night after he faced down the man with the quirk power-up drug Bakugou turned up at his door, looking furious and complaining about the stupid people in the remedial classes – “IcyHot is such a fucking goody two-shoes, he’s insufferable” – for an hour, but eventually his yawns overpowered him and he sat on the edge of the bed, quieting down. “Congratulations on your hero debut,” he muttered. Kirishima had beamed like the sun. He sat on the bed next to him, pressing their knees together.

“Fat had to bail me out,” he said in embarrassed honesty. “I almost let him trick me and get away. I’m too trusting.”

“You would’ve gotten him,” Bakugou said. Another yawn stretched his jaw. He flopped back on the bed, eyes drifting halfway closed. “You’ll make a good hero, Red.” He yawned again. “But don’t get too comfy… Soon as I get my provisional license… I’ll outdo you all…” His eyes were closed.

“As long as you’ll still let me fight beside you,” Kirishima said. He dropped back onto the bed beside Bakugou, who grunted an acknowledgment. Kirishima let his own eyes drift closed as they stayed quiet for a moment. “Hey, Bakugou…?” he started. There was no response. Bakugou was asleep, legs still hanging off of Kirishima’s bed. Kirishima, as gently as he could, pulled Bakugou’s legs up onto the bed. Bakugou stirred but didn’t wake up, turning over and muttering in his sleep. Taking a deep breath, Kirishima crawled onto the bed beside him, trying not to spoon him. He turned onto his side so they were facing opposite directions.

“Just sharing a bed,” he whispered to himself as he reached over to turn off the light. “Nothing weird about it. Just two guys, sharing a bed, deadbeat tired…” When he woke up in the morning, Bakugou was gone. He didn’t see him for almost two days with the way the internship schedule shook out, and when he did, they both acted as if nothing had changed.

He was sleeping lightly these nights, the weight of everything he’d learned from Fat and from Midoriya and Nighteye on his mind. Bakugou came in later than usual, pausing uncertainly on the threshold at the sight of Kirishima reaching out of his bed to switch the light on.

“You were asleep,” he said flatly. Kirishima shook his head.

“Only sort of. What’s up?”

“I’ll let you sleep.” Bakugou turned to go and Kirishima sat up.

“No – hey. You can stay. I’m up now, anyway.” Bakugou hesitated, and then came back into the room, dropping into a chair and propping his feet on Kirishima’s desk. The door swung shut behind him. Kirishima pulled the blanket around his shoulders, shivering in the night air.

“No yelling tonight?” he asked, a wry smile on his face. Bakugou glared at him.

“You really won’t tell me what’s up with the internships?” Kirishima rolled his eyes.

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Why is Deku involved?” he asked bluntly. Kirishima stared.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you and two of the girls all muttering and whispering together with Aizawa-sensei. I’m not an idiot.”

“I really can’t tell you, Bakugou,” Kirishima said. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and crossed him underneath him. “You’ll get your provisional license soon, I know you’ll do fine on their individual test. So you’ll have an internship of your own soon enough.” Bakugou scowled.

“Yeah, but this isn’t just about the internship,” he said. “Something’s up with the four of you.” Kirishima shrugged.

“Okay, you caught me. I still can’t talk about it.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Bakugou said. He fiddled with a pencil on Kirishima’s desk for a moment. “I should just go to bed. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Bakugou, did you come to my room in the middle of the night just to ask me a question you already knew the answer to?”

“I tried to leave when I saw you were asleep,” he growled.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he shot back. “Goodnight.”

“Bakugou, wait.” Bakugou was standing, already making his way toward the door. Kirishima pushed off the bed, dropping the blanket from his shoulders and stepping towards him, the sudden chill of the air raising goosebumps on his skin. “Bakugou. Bakugou, stop.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Bakugou shouted, tiny flames bursting in his palms. “Just let me go to bed. It’s late.”

“And you came to talk, so talk.”

“You won’t say anything.”

“But you knew that coming in, and you came in anyway.”

“Because I was hoping you would say something!” Bakugou shouted. He swung around, an explosion bursting from his palm with enough force that it left ash on the floor. He was glaring so furiously at Kirishima that he took a step back. “Something’s going on and you won’t tell me what and it’s us, it’s UA, so that means it’s dangerous, and it’s Deku, so that means it’s stupid. So you’re out there doing something stupid and dangerous, but you won’t tell me what, so what’s the point of me staying?” His hands curled into fists. “Huh?” Kirishima stared at him.

“You don’t have to be worried about me,” he said slowly. “The internships are all with pros. We’re safe with them.” Bakugou’s face darkened.

“Were you safe when you chased that guy into an alley? You were alone, then. You got hurt. You said yourself Fat showed up in the nick of time.” Kirishima stared.

“I got nicked because I didn’t realize he could cut through my hardening, I was hardly hurt—” he started.

“We do dangerous shit. Doesn’t matter who we’re with. Even All Might—” Bakugou sucked in a breath and stopped. “The pros aren’t infallible,” he said.

“I know that, but—”

“Just shut up.” Bakugou’s face was dark, the shadows from Kirishima’s bedside lamp throwing sharp angles across it. “Go to bed, Kirishima,” he said. He turned to go. Kirishima’s arm shot out and caught his shoulder.

“We all do dangerous shit,” he said. “That’s why we’re here. We do dangerous shit so other people can be safe.”

“I said shut up,” Bakugou said, refusing to turn. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Kirishima hardened his hand, trying to get enough strength to yank Bakugou around to face him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “I’m glad that you care. But you can tell me you care about my safety without getting angry at me about it.”

“I don’t care about your safety, I know you’re fine,” Bakugou said, trying to push Kirishima’s arm off his shoulder. “It’s just stupid that I can’t even know what kind of danger you’re getting yourself into. Let go of me!” He pulled away violently, shoving Kirishima backwards until he stumbled into his bed. “Just forget it, okay? Forget it.” He yanked the door open.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima shouted after him. “Bakugou, stop! Katsuki!” He paused, startled, and suddenly staggered backward as Kirishima launched himself forward and slapped him. “Katsuki, you absolute fucking idiot, will you get back in here?” Glaring at him suspiciously, Bakugou slowly walked back into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Kirishima crossed his arms. “We need to get a couple things straight, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re apparently allergic to the idea of expressing emotions other than anger. And that is going to have to change, at least with me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You came here tonight because you’re worried about me and what’s going on with the internships. Because, if I’m not completely mistaken, you care about me.” Kirishima glared at him, daring him to deny it. Bakugou stuffed his hands into his pockets, refusing to reply. “And I care about you. Holy fuck, Bakugou, I care about you more than I care about almost anyone I’ve ever met. You’re smart and you’re manly and you’re an amazing hero, when you’re not cussing out everyone within earshot. And it’s incredible. You’re incredible. And I love sitting here and talking to you and actually getting to know you. But you’re going to have to get a bit better at accepting that you, like the rest of us humans, actually are a person and you have feelings.” Bakugou still remained silent, staring intently at a spot on the wall just over Kirishima’s shoulder. “Am I completely off the mark in thinking some of those feelings are about me?”

“Yes, fine, you’re my friend and I know you can handle yourself but I don’t want to see you get hurt, especially when I don’t even know what you’re doing or where or why and I can’t save you like you saved me.” Bakugou threw up his hands. “Are you happy now, Eijiro? Is that what you wanted me to say? Are we done? Can I go to bed now?”

“Am I just your friend?” Kirishima asked, ignoring the jolt he’d felt when Bakugou had said Eijiro. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t have put money on Bakugou actually knowing his given name. Bakugou glared at him.

“What does that mean?” he demanded.

“Have I really not been obvious enough?” Kirishima groaned. He took a step forward, grabbed Bakugou’s face between his hands, and kissed him as hard as he could. When he released him, Bakugou stumbled back, his face white. He stared soundlessly at Kirishima for a long moment. Kirishima felt panic crawl up his spine. “Was that… Did I just…”

Before he could coherently form a thought, Bakugou had closed the distance between them and then some, shoving Kirishima back up against the bed, pressing their lips together ferociously, his hands tight on the back of Kirishima’s head. Kirishima melted into the kiss with relief. His hands came up to grip Bakugou’s waist, closing any gap between them as he returned the pressure on his lips with fervor until both of them had to break, gasping for air. Bakugou pressed his forehead against Kirishima’s.

“Did that answer your question?” he asked. His breathing was heavy and hot.

“I think so,” Kirishima answered faintly. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you elaborating on your answer, though.” Bakugou reached down and scooped Kirishima’s legs out from under him, practically flinging him onto the bed, and crawled up himself, his knees planted on either side of Kirishima’s hips as he leaned down to press another kiss to his lips. He moved, nipping at the corner of Kirishima’s mouth before pressing his lips against the back of his jaw, down his neck, to his collarbone. Kirishima grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back to his mouth, slipping his tongue out and running it along Bakugou’s lips. He bit at the lip playfully and Bakugou jerked in surprise.

“Watch those sharp teeth of yours,” he growled. Then he abruptly flopped down on top of Kirishima, his face sideways on the pillow next to him. The two boys shifted until they were both lying on their sides facing each other.

“So…” Kirishima said.

“So.”

“Are you going to be able to actually talk to me now? At least sometimes?” Bakugou scowled.

“I’ve always talked to you,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

“At least sometimes,” he grumbled. “But we’re clear where I stand on…” He reached up a hand in between their bodies to gesture between them. “This?”

“I think so. And we’re clear that I feel the same way?”

“Crystal,” Bakugou replied. He kissed Kirishima again, his tongue lazily sliding across the roof of his mouth. They lay quiet for a few moments. Somehow, their hands found one another and fingers interlocked. Thumbs rubbed circles and their fingers twisted and stroked quietly. Both their eyes were drifting closed when Kirishima’s phone buzzed loudly. He jumped, reaching over to grab it. His eyes widened at the screen.

Meet in three hours. Eri Mission is today.

He jumped to his feet, leaving Bakugou staring at him curiously. He stammered as he spoke. “I… I have to go. I— I’m so sorry, this is the worst time it could have… I’ll be back tomorrow night, I promise. We’ll… I’ll…”

“It’s fine,” Bakugou said, propping himself up on an elbow. “Just go. Kick some villain’s ass for me.” Kirishima nodded, and then bent down impulsively to press a last kiss to Bakugou’s lips.

“I’ll see you soon, Explosion King,” he said.

Yes, this DOES take place right before the mission where Kirishima literally shatters from a beating, because it’s me and I’m an angst queen. (Also, more practically, because I was trying to fit it into the canon timeline and that was the best spot for it lol) But hey, he’ll have someone very aggressively caring for him when he gets back home. Please picture Bakugou literally camped outside of Kirishima’s door wrapping him in more blankets whenever he tries to move and sending explosions after anyone else who gets close. Hope you enjoyed it angst and all :P

Send me prompts!