Kirishima

Kirishima almost, almost thought he'd dreamt up the whole 'Bakugou coming home with him for break' thing when he woke up on the first day of break, but when he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was a messy tuft of blonde hair using his left arm as a pillow, all he could do was smile like the sap he knew he was turning into. Even he had to admit it felt almost too damn good to be true when Bakugou's parents agreed to let him stay over, having said he'd been on 'good enough behavior and had grades decent enough' to let him do it. It wasn't really until waking up that morning that Kirishima was able to believe it was real. And if he hadn't been so stupidly happy about it, he probably would've tucked himself back around his boyfriend more securely and gone back to sleep, but the silly bubble of excitement he held wasn't about to let him.

As much as he wanted to wake Bakugou up and get their day started, he already knew how much of a grump his boyfriend could be when woken up before he was ready and he figured there was no real reason to, so he let him sleep. He didn't even have the heart to risk waking him up by attempting to free his arm, so simply laid there in his own cloud of warm bliss for a while, alternating between keeping his eyes closed and listening to the soft, even breathing of the other and opening them to watch what little he could see of Bakugou's face, completely peaceful as he slept.

Just when Kirishima was about to somehow doze off again, Bakugou finally stirred and grumbled a little, shifting his weight. Kirishima's eyes practically flew open to see him shift onto his back (and halfway onto Kirishima as he did so). His eyes were just beginning to peek open but as soon as he realized where he was, they opened just as fast—if not faster—than Kirishima's.

"Shit," he grumbled, sitting up a little and moving himself over so he wasn't lying halfway on the other.

"Mornin'," Kirishima said with an inevitable sleepy smile, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand. "How'd ya sleep?"

Bakugou blinked at him, seemingly a bit dazed for a second before mumbling, "Fine. You?"

"Good," Kirishima told him with a somewhat involuntary laugh, at which Bakugou narrowed his eyes into a glare.

"What's funny?" he grumbled, sitting the rest of the way up.

Kirishima followed his lead. "Nothin'," he assured. "'M just super happy you're here is all. I dunno why but when I first woke up I thought the whole thing was a dream."

"Hmph..." Bakugou ran a hand through his hair a few times, mumbling, "Weirdo." He tossed the blanket off of his lap and said, "Gotta use the bathroom."

"'Kay," Kirishima said as he shuffled out of the room. He couldn't help noticing the wrinkles in Bakugou's t-shirt or the way his pajama pants were slightly twisted or the fact that one of his socks was halfway off of his feet. These were all usual things he'd seen before while rooming with him, especially the way his hair was smashed down in some places and sticking out in abnormal ways (from its usual spiky nature, that was), but somehow Kirishima found it more... endearing that morning. He knew it probably had something to do with the fact that they were in his house, in his room, and not at school and the fact that Bakugou was, well, his boyfriend who'd just slept next to him for the second time ever.

While he waited, he responded to a text message from his mom and checked the rest of the notifications that had built up on his phone overnight before clearing the unimportant ones. That was all he had time to do before Bakugou was walking back in. Looking a little less disheveled and a little more awake, he flopped down onto the bed in front of the other.

"Hungry?" Kirishima asked.

"Kinda question is that? Does a bear shit in the woods?"

With a grin (that had never really gone away to begin with), Kirishima said, "Me too. Let's go make breakfast."

"What, you cook breakfast, too?" Bakugou asked as the other moved toward the end of the bed to stand up.

"Hey, don't sound so surprised! You liked the spaghetti I made last night, remember?"

"Whatever," Bakugou said in his usual manner, though this time with a subtle (and slightly cocky) grin of his own, moving back to the end of the bed himself.

Automatically, Kirishima reached for the other's hand as soon as he stood up. "C'mon, I think I saw some pancake mix in the fridge. You like 'em with chocolate chips?"

"Who the fuck doesn't like chocolate chip pancakes?" Bakugou retorted.

"Touche, but I figured I'd ask. Let's go—"

"Wait," Bakugou said just as Kirishima started toward the door. He was tugged back toward the other and turned with a confused frown starting to manifest onto his face until Bakugou said, "Why the fuck haven't you kissed me good morning, Shitty Hair?"

Leave it to Bakugou to cause Kirishima's heart to kick into overdrive first thing in the morning not ten minutes after he'd woken up. Regardless, that frown instantly relaxed. "I didn't know you wanted me to," he said.

"Well I do."

"Well that's all you had to say, man," Kirishima told him, swiveling to face Bakugou head on. He wasted no more time talking and reached up to gently slide his hands around to the back of Bakugou's neck. Despite the fact that he had butterflies (he always had butterflies when he did this), Kirishima felt a surge of confidence as he closed the distance between them and Bakugou's hands grasped at his waist.

It didn't matter that Bakugou was just slightly taller than him or that he had the harsher, more demanding personality between the two—he always seemed to relax under Kirishima's touch, their torsos resting gently against one another, mouths even just barely having molded together, and give in to his control—control he was more than happy to take.

Kirishima wasn't sure Bakugou was even aware of the small, quiet hums of pleasure that escaped his throat when they kissed, and he wasn't about to bring it to his attention for fear that Bakugou would stop doing it. He liked those sounds, just as he liked the way Bakugou's hands tended to pull him closer, trying to drag out the kiss a little longer. His skin always felt warmer wherever Bakugou touched him, even if it was through his clothing.

It was... sort of rare that their kisses were just simple pecks, or even relatively short-lived, at least when they were alone. As much as it saddened him to think about, Kirishima was pretty sure it was just part of the dumb 'honeymoon phase' they were still in, but damn was he gonna enjoy it while it lasted.

All too soon as always, Bakugou's mouth broke from his though neither of them pulled completely back right away.

"So... g'morning," Kirishima murmured, not even having opened his eyes yet.

"...morning," Bakugou murmured back in that soft, almost tender tone he spoke in when they were in their own bubble of intimate space, the one he used that told Kirishima he was really feeling affectionate and cared for. The one that turned Kirishima's insides into complete mush...

Just as he was reopening his eyes, Bakugou's chin tilted forward to capture another kiss, this time actually being a peck, and Kirishima couldn't help but return it... twice, feeling Bakugou's hands tighten even further around his waist when he did.

"So, uh... breakfast?" Kirishima asked, head foggy when he reluctantly took a step back and habitually rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, 'm starving," Bakugou mumbled, some of the usual roughness having returned to his voice.

As Kirishima took hold of the other's hand again and started toward the door once more, he said, "You could've kissed me first too, ya know."

"...be quiet. Let's just go make the damn pancakes," Bakugou retorted in a grumble.

⚜️

While the next couple of days weren't super eventful, Kirishima knew he wouldn't have wanted to spend them any other way than how they did. One of the first things he'd wanted to do after breakfast that first morning was head to the garage and work on his board, and show Bakugou how he did it. Much to his delight, Bakugou seemed almost just as interested in seeing it as he was excited to get back to work. They spent more time in the garage doing just that—Bakugou watching and listening (as patiently as Kirishima—or anyone ever, probably—ever saw him be) as he worked and explained until he was truly ready to start painting.

On a few occasions he couldn't help asking Bakugou if he was getting bored, especially when he did start painting, to which the other's reply was always the same.

"If I was bored I'd tell you, Dumb Hair."

And then he'd go back to leaning against Kirishima's shoulder and watching. It didn't take long for Kirishima to get used to the rhythm of light, warm puffs of breath on his neck and ear as he was being watched. With Bakugou there it was somehow so much easier for him to get into his art groove and before he knew it a few hours had gone by on multiple occasions.

They didn't spend all their time in the garage, though. Bakugou made it clear that he wasn't about to "leave this giant ass house without kicking your ass at at least a couple video games," which they spent the majority of the first couple of nights doing. Kirishima wasn't going to let him leave without showing him around town a little, either. He took Bakugou to a few of his favorite stores and treated him to lunch at one of his favorite family-owned ramen shops.

One of their trips had them ending up at Kirishima's favorite skate park, too (and if you asked he'd tell you he most definitely didn't plan on it, even though he'd brought one of his boards along), and because it was on one of the chillier days (much to Bakugou's irritation) there weren't many people there when they showed up (much to Bakugou's delight). It didn't take a whole lot of convincing on Kirishima's part to continue trying to teach Bakugou how to skate again.

They kept it on flat ground, of course, and on the largest portion of concrete they could find without any cracks or bumps to mess him up. Things went pretty well—at first, anyway. Bakugou was having a much better time balancing than he had at school on Valentine's Day. Just as he was getting to the point where he could move without holding onto Kirishima, though, and Kirishima had given him a push, he almost immediately lost his balance and fumbled. As he went down, hands extended instinctively to break his fall, his feet got tangled up with the board and not only ripping his jeans halfway up to his knee, but left a bad scrape on his left shin.

"Shit, are you okay?!" Kirishima had gasped, rushing over to him where he sat on the concrete... laughing.

"Fuck, that scared me," he snickered. "Shit hurt, too."

"I'm really sorry, man." Kirishima's hands were hovering around him, trying to figure out what to do while Bakugou was just grinning. "I didn't think I pushed you that hard."

"'S fine, Shitty Hair. I just scraped my hands and knees a little."

"...and your shin," Kirishima told him, albeit timidly and pointing down at where his jeans were ripped and the scrape on his calf was starting to weep tiny droplets of blood.

"Shit," Bakugou hissed, reaching down and tugging the fabric out of the way. "I didn't even fucking feel that."

"Here, come on. We should get to the bathroom and clean you up a bit. If you think you can make it home, I'll bandage you up there."

"Please, Kiri. I didn't break my fuckin' arm."

"I know, but—"

Kirishima's words were cut off instantly by Bakugou's hand—still with dirt and gravel stuck into the heel of his hand—wrapped underneath his jaw and tugged him forward for a chaste kiss. "Stop bein' so dramatic, Hair for Brains. I'm fine."

"...right," Kirishima mumbled, slightly dazed from the kiss.

He didn't take no for an answer when they got back to the house about bandaging up Bakugou's right knee (that had made contact with the ground first and was bleeding, too) and left shin. He even insisted upon spraying some antiseptic on his palms where they were red and just a little torn up from slamming into the concrete. He kept mumbling apologies over and over and it wasn't until Bakugou reached up and literally pinched his lips shut and told him to 'shut the fuck up' that he made himself stop.

⚜️

Later that night they found themselves on the couch in the basement with a movie on. In spite of the huge sectional, the both of them occupied the same reclining section. Bakugou laid in his usual position—on his back with a hand resting behind his head—while Kirishima was using his chest as a makeshift pillow, an arm draped lazily across his stomach. They'd just eaten leftover spaghetti and were already in their pajamas; Bakugou claimed he was 'too damn tired' from his small adrenaline rush from his earlier fall to do anything but watch a movie. Kirishima suspected he was sort of using it as an excuse to want to cuddle because he didn't really seem that tired, but could he really argue?

Bakugou's free hand, where it would usually be around Kirishima's waist in this position, was instead running gently through his hair, tugging it away from his face and tangling his fingers through it every so often. It was still fairly early in the evening, but the combination of that sensation and the warmth of being pressed up against his boyfriend, and the sound of his heartbeat just beneath his ear, had Kirishima's eyelids feeling rather heavy.

Until Bakugou spoke up, that was. "Your roots are showing," he mumbled.

"Yeah?" Kirishima asked. "'M not really surprised. 'S been a couple months since I touched it up."

"They're fucking dark."

"Mhm. My hair's naturally black."

"How the shit do you get it so bright, then?"

"Bleach."

"No shit, but it's still soft. Bleach fucking destroys hair."

A chuckle rumbled through Kirishima's chest and he shifted to look up at his boyfriend. "And how d'you know, Mr. Beauty Guru?"

Typically, Bakugou clicked his tongue. "'Cause I know shit. Just tell me how your hair isn't shit."

Kirishima rolled his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Guess I'm just blessed?"

"Hmph. You got the shit to dye it with?"

"Nah, I gotta get some from the store. I ran out last time I touched it up. Why? You wanna help me with it?" he joked.

Clearly, Bakugou didn't take it as such. "Sure," he mumbled.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Why the hell not?"

A wide smile took over Kirishima's face. "Sounds good to me, Bakubabe."

There was a beat of silence before it hit Kirishima right in the middle of the chest what he just said, and he was just getting ready to sit up and apologize when Bakugou's hand tugged through his hair again and he snorted. "New nickname?"

"Dunno. It just came out," Kirishima told him with a semi-forced laugh.

"...you're weird, Dumb Hair."

"Aw, I like you, too."

⚜️

Bakugou was surprisingly good at the whole hair dye thing. He only seemed to glance at the directions on the bottle of bleach and developer before he was mixing it in the little bowl. Kirishima, impressed, merely sat on the lid of the toilet as he watched.

"So are you gonna tell me how you know what you're doing, or...?"

"It's hair dye, not fucking rocket science."

"Yeah, but you look like you've done this a hundred times before," Kirishima said. "C'mon, Baku. You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me."

"Who said I was embarrassed?!" Bakugou half-yelled.

"Well, you didn't say it, but your body language did."

"...shut up, Shitty Hair."

With a sly grin, Kirishima leaned toward the sink. "You've dyed your hair before, huh? What color?"

With a deep crease set between his brows, Bakugou didn't answer for a long minute as he finished mixing up the bleach. Kirishima was just starting to think he wasn't going to answer and was ready to drop the subject when Bakugou set the bowl down, picked up the gloves and muttered, "Black."

"Yeah?" Kirishima sat up straight again. "That sounds like you. Got pictures?"

"...no."

"Aw c'mon, Bakubabe! Lemme see 'em! I'll show you some of me before I went red, if ya want," he offered.

Bakugou's eyes immediately cut to the side in Kirishima's direction, narrowed suspiciously. In that one look alone Kirishima knew he was considering it, and he tried to make the begging in his eyes seem not-so forced.

"Fucking fine," Bakugou grumbled, reaching for his phone with the hand that wasn't yet gloved. He tapped on a few things and then handed the device over to Kirishima before telling him to turn around so he could start slapping the bleach onto his roots.

Elated, Kirishima was already occupied with the pictures to do just that. And damn did he have black hair! They were clearly old pictures—he only had one piercing in his lip and the one on the bridge of his nose was missing, too. His face looked quite a bit younger. The black, for what he seemed to be in those pictures, wearing even more eyeliner than he did currently as well as a worn leather choker, seemed to fit him. Of course, his trademark middle finger was still there and his tongue was out in a lot of them. Even then, though, with the black hair and slightly rounder face, he was cute. Kirishima couldn't stop smiling.

"Don't fucking make fun of me," Bakugou told him when he noticed the other was already scrolling back through them once he reached the end.

"Don't worry, man. Even I had an emo phase."

Bakugou yanked a bit on the chunk of Kirishima's hair he was holding. "Who said it was an emo phase?!"

"The pictures, man!" Kirishima laughed. "Seriously, though, you looked good. I mean, then. I don't think the black hair would really suit you now, though."

"So what, if I dyed it back would you break up with me?"

"What?! Hell no!"

Bakugou snorted at Kirishima's suddenly shrill tone of voice.

Once Kirishima's roots were covered in the bleach, Bakugou demanded he cough up the pictures he promised. With little reluctance, Kirishima did (though he was thankful there were only a few, and none of them were selfies, unlike all of Bakugou's). Most of them were from when he was a kid, only a few from his middle school days when his hair was still the same style (minus the spikes) but remaining black. Back then he, too, wore quite a bit of black and wore this silly keychain on a chain around his neck much the same way he wore the tag Bakugou got for him now.

"Jesus fuck, you've always been cute," Bakugou mumbled as he flipped through the photo album—one of Kirishima's moms that she kept on the shelf in her closet.

"Aw, thanks, man."

Bakugou stiffened like he hadn't realized he said that out loud.

Once the roots were bleached and the dye was properly mixed, Kirishima once again let Bakugou take the reigns with his hair and then hopped in the shower to rinse it out when they were done while Bakugou waited for him down in the basement.

Bakugou

For some weird reason, Bakugou couldn't even be bothered by the fact that the undersides of his nails were going to be red for weeks, though he was irritated that the fucking gloves ripped the second he put them on, causing him to have to put the stupid dye on Dumb Hair's head without any hand protection. But it was for Kirishima, so of course he didn't fucking mind.

The little fucker seemed to be taking a goddamn eon up in the shower, though, and there was only so much Bakugou's phone could keep him entertained with while he was alone without resorting to YouTube—again.

Just as he was about to head there anyway, the basement door swung open and what looked like a blurry red figure out of the corner of his eye descended the stairs. He had no idea what the hell he was expecting upon looking up, but it sure as fuck wasn't what he saw.

"...what the actual fuck are you wearing?" he blurted.

"Pajamas!" Kirishima said happily with that same big grin that never left his face. That one word alone was enough to make Bakugou's heart squeeze with a gross feeling of affection for this idiot.

It was definitely pajamas he was wearing, but it wasn't... normal pajamas. No, that adorable piece of shit was wearing a onesie, and not only that, he was wearing a fucking dragon onesie. A red one. With horns, a tail, wings, and everything.

Already feeling disturbingly fucking flustered, Bakugou blurted the first thing that came to mind. "You look like a toddler."

Just when he thought Kiri-fucking-shima couldn't get any more adorable, he stuck his lower lip out in a pout just like a toddler. "Hey, pajamas are manly!" he defended.

"Whatever," Bakugou said, rolling his eyes. "Just get over here and cuddle me, you little shit."

Like the child he was, Kirishima bounded over to the couch and flopped down, opening his arms wide. "C'mere, Bakubabe."

"You're such a fucking dweeb," Bakugou mumbled. Even still, he couldn't help but let himself be enveloped by that dweeb, pulled downward until he was quite literally laying on his boyfriend. The onesie was unsurprisingly soft, and shit, Kirishima was warm.

"Hmm, you're warm, Shitty Hair," he mumbled, not even caring that the happiness he felt showed through his tone of voice.

"Oh, are you cold?" Kirishima asked. "Want me to turn off the AC?"

"Nope. Move and I'll kill you."

Hell no, Bakugou didn't need the AC turned off. He was content just lying there and feeling Kirishima's chest rumble beneath him with a laugh.