A knock at his door startled Kirishima, almost making him rip out his hair that he was so patiently trying to wash the solidified product out of.

"Yeah, one second!" he called, hurriedly washing his hands and wiping them on the little hand towel, rushing out of the en-suite and pausing at the door, running his palms over his clothes before opening the door.

Katsuki stood there, a bundle of his belongings in his arms, a suitcase beside him and a pissed-off scowl on his face. He wore loose joggers and a long-sleeved t-shirt, presumably his sleepwear, and Kirishima noticed a thin woven bracelet on his wrist.

"Bakugo!" Kirishima greeted warmly, stepping to the side to allow him room to enter.

"I can't believe it was my fucking room," Bakugo grumbled, dumping his stuff in the corner then dragging his suitcase in, shooting Kirishima and accusatory glare. "Our rooms are right fucking next to each other, why couldn't it have been yours?"

"Uh," Kirishima laughed unsurely, raising his hands in surrender. "I don't know, bro. Unfortunate circumstances?"

For a moment, Bakugo was quiet, then he clicked his tongue and turned away, scooping something up from the pile. "Where should I put this?" he asked, unrolling the futon and shaking it a bit. It was white and patterned with little criss-crossed diamonds. Kirishima wasn't sure what he had been expecting when Katsuki unrolled it; maybe a giant middle finger.

Trying not to snort at the image he had just conjured, he pointed at the area beside his bed. "If you put it down there then it'll be out of the way. You can even slide it under my bed during the day."

Bakugo hummed, aligning the mattress next to the bed with a surprising amount of adjusting being done before he was happy with it.

"Right!" Kirishima exclaimed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "It's 8:32, and we've got sleepover things to do!" He padded over to a cupboard and pulled out a variety of snacks, ranging from sweets to crisps, even a couple of protein bars. "I wasn't sure what you liked," Kirishima admitted sheepishly at Bakugo's sceptical look. "So I just bought loads!" Kirishima quickly dropped the array of food by Bakugo's futon, then went back to the cupboard and pulled out three blankets. "And I promised blankets, bro."

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. "Why are there three of them? Don't tell me we're fucking sharing with someone else-"

"No!" Kirishima laughed, tossing him one.Bakugo caught it and looked surprised, running a finger over the material. "I just like having lots of blankets. Don't you?"

Shrugging, Bakugo slumped onto his futon with his back resting against the side of Kirishima's bed frame. "Tch. I guess, but my blankets aren't this..." he trailed off, and Kirishima noticed him clenching and unclenching his hand around the fabric, almost subconsciously.

"Fluffy?" Kirishima finished for him, jumping up onto his own mattress, grasping at the TV remote that powered the box he had set up on top of his dresser. "Yeah, bro. Fluffy blankets are the best."

Switching to the DVD setting, the screen flickered for a moment before showing the title screen for the movie Kirishima had chosen.

"Tell me, Bakugo," Kirishima said seriously, his stern tone of voice causing Bakugo to crane his neck to stare. "Have you ever seen Die Hard?"

Kirishima's intense gaze was met with a blank one, Bakugo's face showing no recognition. Kirishima gasped, curling his legs under him as he stabbed viciously at the play button. "Right then," he announced, his voice loud and presenter-like, Bakugo seemingly not impressed as he scoffed and turned back to the television screen. "You're in for a treat!"

As the movie played, Kirishima became totally engrossed, despite having seen it a multitude of times before. It had just gotten to the part where Gruber tries to shoot McClane with the empty gun, when Bakugo groans, arching his back which was followed by a series of clicking as his joints popped. He stood up, obscuring Kirishima's vision for a moment before moving to the left and sitting on the bed, right next to Kirishima. The red-head sent him a questioning look, tearing his eyes away from the movie, to which Bakugo shrugged. "It was uncomfortable."

Kirishima kept his gaze on him for a moment longer, eyes trailing over the way his back was slightly hunched to accommodate for the duvet stuffed behind his back and the blanket draped loosely around his shoulders, until Bakugo turned to look, which prompted him to turn his attention back to the movie, just as McClane runs from the room.

"Bullshit," Bakugo spat as the credits began the roll, sitting up and pointing a finger at the screen. His normally irritated expression was now one of anger.

Kirishima chuckled, muting the TV and swivelling around. "What's wrong?"

Finger still pointing, Bakugo glances at Kirishima. "He didn't fucking die!"

Confused, Kirishima tilted his head. "Who didn't die?" Practically everyone died in that movie, he thought to himself, not daring to say that out loud. Bakugo seemed more irritated than usual.

"The...fuck, what's his name...the main guy! Macdonald or some shit."

It took Kirishima a moment to process it, but once he had that was it.

Clutching at his stomach in the fear that it might explode, Kirishima howled with laughter, the combination of it being almost 10:30pm and the amount of sugar he had consumed in such a short amount of time heightening his hysteria as he rolled about on the mattress, watched with bemusement by Bakugo, who wasn't impressed.

"You fucking laughing at me, Shitty Hair?" he growled, voice threateningly low, but Kirishima didn't care.

"Macdonald...!" he choked out through his laughs, tears now pooling in his eyes, rocking to his side once more, then finding he was on the edge of the bed and lost his balance, arms unwrapping themselves from around his midsection but not fast enough to grab anything; Kirishima toppled off the side and onto the floor, just barely missing Bakugo's futon and smacking onto the wood, his head snapping back and impacting hard. Kirishima, however, has gotten used to having to activate his Quirk in quick-thinking situations, so he wasn't hurt, and continued to laugh.

He heard Bakugo scoff, before the mattress creaked and a hand invaded Kirishima's view. "Get up, Shitty Hair."

For a moment, time stopped. No longer could Kirishima hear the gentle hum of the electricity in the building, or the shuffling of bodies around the building. All he could focus on was the calloused skin, short nails and curled fingers. He gulped, unwanted memories floating to the surface of his mind; fire, terror, debris. Calling Bakugo's name, not knowing if he would hear or react-

"...itty Hair. Kirishima!"

"Huh?" Kirishima blinked, shaking his head and looking up, to see Bakugo looking at him weirdly. His eyebrows weren't corrugated, instead resting uneasily and giving him and almost...worried expression? 

In an instant, like he had noticed Kirishima staring, Bakugo's expression changed. "What the fuck are you thinking about?" Bakugo snarled, back to his old self - narrowed eyes and scowl present once more. Kirishima grinned, snatching up his hand and pulling himself to his feet, banishing the thoughts to the back of his mind - something he had gotten used to doing.

"Nothing, bro," he dismissed casually, turning away and completely missing the doubtful glance Bakugo sent him. "You tired?" Kirishima added quickly, hoping to change the subject as he fiddled with his duvet, untucking it from the edges of his mattress so he could pull it back.

Bakugo huffed, clambering onto his own futon. "No." He paused, almost like a hesitation, before adding, "What else do you do at a sleepover?"

A grin spread across Kirishima's features, lighting up the dim room. "Talk! Kaminari and I would talk 'til the early hours of the morning, until his parents woke up and yelled at us to go to sleep." Kirishima chuckled at the memory, still fresh in his mind, but Bakugo didn't need to know that. Suddenly gasping, Kirishima lunged under his comforter and spun around, leaning forwards to see Bakugo slumped on his futon, head propped up by his elbow and giving Kirishima a disapproving stare. "We could play Would You Rather!"

To Kirishima's utmost delight, since he liked to teach people things, Bakugo didn't seem to recognise it. Still, he mocked disappointment when he answered. "Bro...what kind of upbringing have you had?"

"My upbringing was fine, you bastard!" Bakugo snapped, and Kirishima only laughed,

"Okay, okay," he assured quickly, not wanting his room to blow to pieces from Bakugo's explosive temper - and Quirk. "Would You Rather is just a game where you give someone two choices, and they have to choose. For example," Kirishima continued when all Bakugo gave him was a blank look tinged with impatience. "Would you rather...seven fingers on each hand, or seven toes on each foot?"

A horrified look came over Bakugo's face, just for a second, as he thought about it, but was quickly replaced by one of satisfaction. "Seven fingers," he smirked. "Pft, imagine the look on their faces when you go to shake their hand." The blond snorted, the scenario in his head clearly becoming funnier to him the more he thought about it.

"So you get it?" Kirishima asked animatedly, bouncing slightly on the surface of his bed as Bakugo nodded.

"Alright, Shitty Hair. Live in-"

"No, you've gotta start with 'Would You Rather'."

Bakugo gave him an irritated look before continuing. "Fucking fine. Would you rather rule the world, or live in a world with no problems?"

"Oh, easy," Kirishima answered without hesitation. "A world with no problems. It's impossible, but just imagining it is nice." What he didn't say, but continued in his mind was that everyone would be happy; no hunger, no poverty, no children disregarded by the people that were supposed to love them...

Bakugo clicked his tongue. "Stupid question. Of course you'd say that."

Kirishima stared. "You wouldn't?"

There was a moment in which neither of them spoke. Kirishima shifted heavily, the bed creaking. "Tch. Stupid question," Bakugo repeated, annoyed. He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, avoiding Kirishima's gaze.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "Right." Tilting his head, he thought about what to ask next when a brilliant one popped into his mind. "Okay, Bakugo. Would you rather have three children but no money, or no children but 300 million yen?"

It made Kirishima amused to see Bakugo thinking about it. Usually the blond kept his face impassive, only showing his anger or displeasure at something, so it was a welcome change to see him sporting something different. Maybe he's more comfortable around me, Kirishima thought, enjoying the notion.

Eventually, Bakugo nodded, whether to himself or to Kirishima he didn't know. "No kids."

Kirishima dipped his head. "Yeah, I probably could have guessed that. You don't like children?" he guessed, half joking but believing it all the same.

"It's not that," Bakugo stormed, his tone irate but his body totally relaxed. "If I had the kids with no fucking money, they wouldn't be happy, or healthy. They probably wouldn't achieve much in life, and the chances of them being miserable are much higher. God, Shitty Hair. I'm not heartless, you know."

Kirishim blinked once, twice. That hadn't been what he was getting at at all, yet maybe there was a part of him that did view Bakugo as impassive, intolerant tyrannical teen, only bothered with his own needs and not those of others. He made a mental note to watch Bakugo more carefully from now on. There was more to him, Kirishima knew, it was just a matter of finding it. Bakugo's defenses were like barbed wire coated in poison.

They continued playing for at least another hour, Bakugo's answers getting shorter and shorter whilst Kirishima's questions got more and more ridiculous, until Kirishima yawned loudly.

"You're fucking tired, Shitty Hair," Bakugo pointed out, switching positions from his back to his side, facing away from Kirishima. "Go to sleep."

Kirishima pouted, wanting to continue with their game, but the sense of finality in Bakugo's voice convinced him not to press it. It would likely result in something burning.

So Kirishima flopped backwards, thudding onto the bed and closing his eyes, getting lost in the darkness. His fingers blindly searched his beside table until they found the switch, and the light from his lamp disappeared with a click as he flicked it.

Suddenly remembering what until this point had fled his mind, Kirishima opened one eye and held out his pinky, pressing it onto his forearm and haphazardly scribbling the word 'goodnight' in a sloppy, lazy scrawl. Satisfied that, if his soulmate was out there that they would at least see a message from him, Kirishima lowered his arm, eyes fluttering shut once more as he succumbed to the tantalising call of slumber.

Falling asleep as he was, Kirishima didn't see Bakugo grunt at the all-too-familiar tingle on his arm, disregarding it completely as he swiped a hand over it, not even reading the message that faded up from nothing, satisfied as the gentle pulses on his skin vanished, as if they had never been there in the first place.