Bakugou

It was effing weird to brush your teeth in the middle of the day, Bakugou couldn't help thinking as he did just that. But he wasn't about to go on his first fuckin' date with Dumb Hair (and, well, ever) with the smell of his breakfast still on his breath.

I'm going on a date... with Kiri-fucking-shima.

Bakugou was getting damn tired of those words spinning around and around his head; they'd kept him up a good portion of the night just anticipating the whole damn thing while Dumb Hair himself seemed to sleep like a freaking log across the room. He still had no idea how to fully wrap his head around the fact that the little fucker had been legitimately flirting with him for the past several months. Hell, he couldn't even fathom how he himself had apparently been developing (not so) shitty feelings for the guy without even realizing it.

But now he had. And he was rinsing his toothbrush off at nearly noon to get ready to go to some music festival Jirou had supposedly told Kirishima about. The second Bakugou had agreed to go (though honestly, he wouldn't have cared much what Dumb Hair had planned, he just wanted to go on the damn date and be with the loser—and be alone with him), Kirishima's eyes lit up like he was seeing daylight for the first time, and Bakugou felt his insides turn straight to mush at the sight.

It was fucking gross. He loved it.

Bakugou was in the middle of touching up his eyeliner when the door to the room swung open and in stumbled Kirishima himself, a black umbrella hanging from his fingertips.

"So Sero only had one umbrella," he said a bit breathlessly. Had the idiot been rushing? "And since Kami and Jirou are going to the festival too, theirs are in use."

Bakugou snapped his eyeliner pencil shut, stuck it back in the cabinet, and strolled out of the bathroom where Kirishima was, once again, rummaging through the closet for the umbrella he supposedly had (and lost). His hair, for once hanging down instead of up in its usual spiky array, was a bit disheveled, and Bakugou unknowingly grinned—if only slightly—at the sight. If he was being honest, he sort of preferred Kirishima with his hair down; he looked a lot softer, which suited him.

"I still can't find mine," he mumbled, shutting the door with a sigh. "Hm... I can go see if Midoriya or Todoroki has—"

"'S fine," Bakugou cut in, grabbing the one umbrella from his bed and tossing it up to catch it.

"Are you sure? Midoriya's room isn't super far, so I can—"

"I'm fuckin' sure, Shitty Hair. If it rains we'll just share this one or whatever."

Kirishima was so damn easy. Just like that the distressed crease on his forehead smoothed out into an easy smile. "Alright. Then, um, ready to go?"

"Just gotta get my wallet." Bakugou tossed the umbrella to the other and then swiped the wallet from his dresser before easily stuffing his feet into his shoes before heading out the door in front of the other.

⚜️

The bus stop was empty when they arrived and the two took their seats on the end of the bench. Though the walk hadn't been long, it'd been quiet.

"So what kinda music is this s'posed to be, anyway?" Bakugou asked to fill the silence.

"Jirou said it's supposed to mostly be rock and stuff. Here..." Kirishima slid out his phone. "She sent me a list of bands that'll be there. I guess they're all just amateur, and most of them are local. I don't know any, but maybe you will." He handed the device over, and Bakugou barely skimmed the list. None of the names that did stick rang a bell, but he wasn't worried about it. He was just glad it wasn't some country bullshit.

It wasn't until the bus showed up shortly after and they climbed on together—Kirishima of course paying for the damn fare—that Bakugou started to feel the nerves, that it was just starting to sink in what they were doing, that this wasn't just a day of usual hanging out—it was a date. Something couples did. He knew that for certain from the conversation after Kirishima had asked him out. After he had, and Bakugou had (more than) readily agreed, Kirishima's eyes about popped right out of his damn skull.

"Wait, really?" he'd blurted.

"No, I just said that for shits and giggles!" Bakugou half-shouted. "Yes really, dumbass!"

After a few seconds of blinking like an idiot, the fucker's face broke out into one of the biggest, brightest goddamn smiles Bakugou had ever seen. It'd squished his cheeks into his eyes, wrinkling the outer corners of them and showed all of his stupid teeth. Bakugou could practically feel the happy energy radiating off of him. And Jesus fuck he was adorable; how the shit could Bakugou make someone so damn happy?

After that Kirishima had gone on to tell him about the music festival Pikachu had told him about, but had asked him what he wanted to do. Honestly, Bakugou genuinely didn't give a shit what they did, as long as they were together (even though he'd never admit that aloud).

Dumb Hair was in the middle of mapping out his plan for them—it'd be the very next day, and they'd go just after noon once the lines to get in had probably died down, and they could get food afterwards—when he'd cut himself off and looked up at Bakugou with that nervous habit of scratching the back of his neck.

"Um... you get that I mean for this to be a date date, r-right?" he questioned in a mumble.

He's such an idiot, Bakugou thought. "Yes, moron."

The answer, despite the insult, manifested another one of those damn cheesy smiles, even if it wasn't big as before. "Then... if I said I maybe wanna hold your hand or somethin', would you be okay with it?"

Bakugou's heart did a weird stutter and then took off galloping again. "...sure," he mumbled, pretending his face wasn't growing warm.

Of course, Shitty Hair insisted that he'd be the one paying for dinner—Bakugou's choice, he said—since he was the one to ask. Bakugou couldn't help being appreciative of how gentlemanly Kirishima was, even if it could be kind of annoying at times.

When the bus came to a stop and the doors slid open they could already hear the bass and drums of the music festival down a few blocks. Already Bakugou liked what he heard even though it sounded more Kirishima's speed, softer than what he usually tended to listen to.

It didn't take long to follow the small crowd down the road to the makeshift entrance set up at the end of a block where a stoplight had temporarily been shut down. The security guard at the gate let them pass, along with several other people—a few of which are clearly on dates, too—without a word, and from there there was nothing but a road full of music and people.

Small stages and merch tents extended down the road for at least half a mile, in the parking lots of small buildings and tucked into smaller, blocked off roads. Only a few of the stages were occupied by musicians, spaced out long enough so their sets didn't interfere too much with each other. In between a few of the stages and tents were concession stands, selling anything from popcorn and candy to full pizzas and other fried foods.

"Where d'you wanna go first?" Kirishima asked.

"Don't care," Bakugou told him. "You decide, since you're makin' me decide everything else."

Dumb Hair chuckled lightly, beginning to swing the umbrella around by the string, "Mkay. Let's just walk for a bit, then... see if anything grabs our attention."

So walk they did. Fortunately the road wasn't quite as crowded as it looked, which made it a lot easier to dodge other people.

Bakugou did his best to pretend he didn't feel the slight awkwardness between them as they wandered, stopping at a few of the active stages, especially with the damn near overwhelming urge to grab Kirishima's hand every time their knuckles bumped as they walked closely to one another. The music did well, as they watched, to keep the lack of conversation between them from getting too stupidly awkward, and yet he was still actively looking for something to say.

But what the fuck was there?! A lot, he was sure; he and Dumb Hair had spent hours before lost in conversation together, and yet this was different. Because it was a date. And because Bakugou'd never been on one of these damn things before, he hadn't the slightest goddamn clue as to what to say... or how to act.

So they kept walking.

Some of the bands were a little too soft for his tastes, and even Kirishima was steering clear of them, coaxing Bakugou along through the crowd with light, almost blissful smiles on his face. Though Bakugou wasn't much one for the crowd and was mildly annoyed by the cloud cover and chilly air, he was honestly just happy to be with this loser, with the intention of just being with him and that was it, whether Kirishima was planning to hold true to his word and eventually reach for Bakugou's hand or not (though, admittedly, Bakugou wanted him to, to a degree that surprised even him).

It wasn't until Bakugou felt the first frigid raindrop pelt him in the cheek did things took a turn for the more interesting—and that was a damn good thing. Like an idiot, he tilted his head back and looked up, squinting irritatedly at the gray, overcast sky.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he muttered, swiping the moisture from his skin. Sure enough, big drops of cold rain were beginning to come down.

"Aw crap," Kirishima mumbled from beside him.

It seemed like it only took seconds for it to be a fucking downpour. Bakugou snapped his hood up while Kirishima fumbled with the umbrella, all the while ducking through the rain toward the nearest merch tent that people were already crowding under. The music didn't stop and a few idiotic people remained in front of the stages, seemingly totally oblivious to or in bliss by the rain.

Bakugou, of course, was more than a little annoyed by it and the fact that once they made it, there wasn't any more room beneath the merch tent to get out of it and so ducked under a nearby tree, though it provided little shelter. It was only then when Kirishima finally figured out the stupid umbrella and handed it over. He'd been so busy fidgeting with it that he hadn't even put his hood up and his hair was already starting to drip from the ends.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bakugou asked when he took a step back, pulling his hood into place when he was out from under the little bit of coverage the umbrella provided.

"Putting my hood on?" Dumb Hair mumbled stupidly.

"Get the fuck back here, idiot." Bakugou grabbed him by the shoulder of his hoodie and yanked him back under the umbrella, adjusting its position so it covered at least their heads. Kirishima stumbled towards him, but when they bumped together Bakugou didn't let him pull away again. "I told you we'd share, stupid."

Bakugou swore that if Kirishima somehow had power over the weather, the damn sun would break right out from behind the thick gray clouds dumping buckets on them because of his responding smile. "You're right. My bad," he said, and Bakugou swore he felt himself die a little on the inside because of the beautiful motherfucker in front of him. "But uhm, hey... your eyeliner's running a little bit," he went on.

"What? Seriously?" Automatically Bakugou swiped at his wet cheeks, his skin cold, and sure enough black smudges came away on his fingers. "Fucking hell. This shit's supposed to be waterproof," he hissed, rubbing at his cheeks more.

"Stop, stop," Dumb Hair laughed, reaching up to pull his hand away. "You're makin' it worse."

"Then fuckin' fix it for me!"

"Okay, okay!" Kirishima's hands came up to gently wipe at Bakugou's cheeks with his sleeves. Even through the fabric and despite the cold-ass weather, his hands were warm and felt weirdly nice against Bakugou's cool skin. And fuck, his face was right there, those deep, liquid scarlet eyes flicking back and forth between Bakugou's cheeks to make sure he got all of the smudges. Overwhelming, completely foreign urges washed over him harsher than the rain and when he realized just what the hell he was thinking, Dumb Hair's hands dropped from his face. "There," he said. "Think I got it all. But 's kinda uneven around your eyes now."

Bakugou jerked his head back a little, swallowing hard. "...that figures," he mumbled absently. "Won't be buying that shit again."

"Wanna go see if one of those shops down there has a bathroom you can use?" Kirishima nodded down the road a ways where a line of buildings sat--clearly shops meant for tourists.

"Might as well. 'S not like this tree is helping for shit."

While somehow remaining huddled under the umbrella as best they could, the two jogged down the road to the nearest shop where people had already taken refuge from the rain and were mulling around, most of them clearly window shopping and hardly interested in anything the store had to offer.

"Fuck," Bakugou muttered, glaring at the sign posted just inside the door that read Bathroom use for customers only.

"Huh? Oh... here. I'll go buy a candy bar from the counter real quick," Kirishima said. He trudged across the floor with his wet shoes and did just that, and Bakugou made sure to keep his face as hidden as he could by lowering his head. It wasn't like he really gave a fuck what other people thought of his likely smudged-to-hell eyeliner, but he did.

And of course, it was smudged to hell he discovered when he got into the tiny, one person bathroom in the corner of the shop and was forced to get rid of nearly all of it, leaving his face looking plain and tired, and he hated it.

It didn't stop Dumb Hair from giving him a ginormous fucking smile when he made his way back out, though.

"What?" he muttered.

"Nothin'."

"I know, I look like shit. Don't have to rub it in," Bakugou grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets after tugging his hood back up.

"Nah, man. I think you look great."

"Hmph. You're just fuckin' saying that."

"I'm not, I swear! Honestly... I kinda like how you look without the makeup. Your eyes look bigger, y'know? And brighter."

Bakugou's eyes lifted to the other once more, and the genuineness of his words shined right out of his stupid, pretty face. And then the damn butterflies were back (not that they'd gone away in the first place).

"...thanks," he mumbled, knowing he was gonna carry that one simple little compliment with him for the rest of the day—if not the entire week.

It wasn't too much longer before the rain started to let up, and in that time Kirishima shared his chocolate—dark, with coffee flavoring, much to Bakugou's pleasure. As soon as the rain was nothing more than weird mist falling from the sky, the street was bustling and booming with music again.

"I'm ready to head back out when you are," Kirishima said.

Bakugou merely gave a nod and let Kirishima hold the door open for him. Side by side they started back down the street toward the tents and stages, and just as they were passing one of the merch tents, a yellow-headed idiot popped out of it.

"Hey guys!" Pikachu half-shouted. "You made it!"

Bakugou practically skidded to a halt and backed up a step, glaring at Kaminari, who Jirou promptly stepped around.

"Did you guys just get here?" Kirishima asked.

"Sorta. We got caught in the rain down at the bus stop and had to book it up here. Thank god for umbrellas, right?" he asked, holding up a folded, green umbrella.

"We only have the one we borrowed from Sero," Kirishima told him. "So we got a little wet anyway."

Kami shrugged. "A little rain never hurt."

"Unless your eyeliner is falsely advertised as waterproof," muttered Bakugou.

"Oh yeah! I thought you looked different," Pikachu said.

"Anyway," Jirou cut in, stopping Bakugou from retaliating at Kaminari, "we were just headed to get something to eat. We'll see you guys later back at school." With that, she started tugging the idiot she was attached to across the road in the direction of the food stalls; neither Bakugou nor Kirishima missed the not-so-subtle wink Pikachu threw their way before waving and following her away.

"Loser," Bakugou mumbled under his breath. Kirishima only laughed.

"So... it's kind of a music festival, but we haven't really listened to that much music," Dumb Hair said. "Looks like they're about done setting up. Wanna go see if they're any good?" he asked, gesturing down the road a ways back toward the bus stop where a band looked like they were just getting ready to start, a crowd of people bigger than usual already gathering around in front of the stage.

"'Kay," Bakugou agreed.

The band turned out to be good—really damn good, actually, to the point where Bakugou could hardly believe they were local and unsigned. While most of their shit was original (and good original), they threw in a few covers here and there as well. Somehow it was stuff Bakugou actually knew. And shit, he knew he'd never forget the look of pure awe and elation on Kirishima's stupid face when the beginning of one of the songs started, and it was one Bakugou almost instantly recognized as one from Kirishima's Shinedown playlist (that he'd been regularly and unapologetically listening to since saving it).

After the set was over, Kirishima almost immediately found them on Spotify. And damn was Bakugou glad they'd had good enough timing to catch that set because it finally sparked a conversation between them, chasing away the last of the awkwardness still hovering since the rainstorm. Finally they were able to let loose a bit, shake out their nerves and talk normally again. This was what Bakugou had been hoping for when he agreed to the dumb date, and eventually he forgot about how tense he felt at the beginning and the fact that his eyeliner was complete shit.

When they checked the time again, it was already almost four and by some miracle the damn sun was starting to peek through the thick clouds. They'd spent at least an hour just wandering around talking.

"You getting hungry yet?" Kirishima asked.

"A little. You?"

"Yeah, actually. D'you wanna choose somewhere else or just eat here?" He nodded in the direction of the food stalls across the road.

"Don't care."

"C'mon, man. I said you get to choose. I was serious."

"It doesn't fucking matter, Dumb Hair. Food is food."

Kirishima gave him a stupid, pouty look that Bakugou both wanted to take a picture of to preserve as well as roll his eyes at. "Fine, then we might as well eat here since I'm so hungry I don't know if I can wait to go somewhere else."

"You sayin' you'd starve to death in the next twenty minutes?" Bakugou teased.

"I might," Kirishima said with a grin. Just as Bakugou was getting ready to actually roll his eyes this time, the other said, "Come on," and reached for his hand. Bakugou had little time to react before a big, warm hand slipped around his with a firm but gentle hold. At the unexpected contact, with his heart having finally calmed down since some normalcy had been laced back between them, Bakugou felt a thrill snake all the way up his entire body and once again his heart kicked into overdrive. Still, he let himself wrap his cool fingers around the other's hand—his big, soft fucking hand—and be pulled toward the concession stands.

Even as they ordered and received their food, neither of them let go of the other and they shuffled the paper bags of food and drinks between their two free hands, and by some miracle nothing was dropped. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Bakugou made the decision to twist his hand in Kirishima's and push his fingers into the spaces between the other's. Kirishima, the smile never having so much as fucking faded, squeezed gently when he did so, and Bakugou couldn't help thinking about how weird it was that their hands fit so comfortably together, or just how downright natural it felt.

They found a short brick wall bordering some trees from the road to sit on to eat and continue their conversation. Bakugou's damn stomach was so filled with butterflies or whatever, though, that despite his hunger he was having a hard time actually getting the food down. But Dumb Hair paid for it, and he wasn't about to let that shit go to waste, so he ate as much as he possibly could before his stomach refused to accept any more and he was in danger of fucking puking due to nerves.

And it seemed pretty obvious Kirishima was having a similar problem. He'd only eaten about half of his food before crumpling up the paper and stuffing it back in the bag.

"I thought you said you were starving," Bakugou said.

"I... guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought," Kirishima said with a forced, nervous laugh.

"...same." Bakugou followed his lead by stuffing his trash back in the bag. "Be right back. I'mma throw this shit away," he said, hopping down from the wall, bag in hand.

"'Kay," Kirishima said lightly.

When Bakugou got back, Dumb Hair was staring, zoned out, at the ground, his leg bouncing anxiously while he chewed on his lip and his eyebrows were smushed together.

"What's with the fidgeting?" asked Bakugou, hopping back up onto the wall and crossing his legs, unknowingly sitting closer to Kirishima than he had before.

"What? Oh, uh... 's nothing." He tried to smile his reassurance, but Bakugou wasn't buying it.

"Bullshit."

The fake smile faltered into something softer, and Kirishima laughed half-heartedly. "Guess you already know how to read me pretty well, huh?"

"Yeah, so what is it? 'Cause that weird wrinkle on your forehead says it's more than just nerves."

Immediately the wrinkle flattened out. "'S just... somethin' I've kinda wanted to ask you since we got here, but I'm honestly afraid of the answer."

For what felt like the goddamn millionth time in the past twenty-four hours alone, Bakugou's heart jumped straight into his throat. Already a dozen possibilities of what Kirishima wanted to ask were flying through his brain, and he hadn't an answer for a single one of them. Part of him wanted to book it in another direction, but another part—a bigger, stronger part—made him stay, because this day was about spending time with this little fucker he swore he had stronger feelings for every second, even if things between them were a little uneasy at times. It was their first date. That was a given. Plus, he wasn't that much of an asshole—not to Kirishima.

"So ask."

"Alright... but promise you'll be honest, 'kay?"

Those bright eyes had Bakugou hooked in so deeply already that he nodded his silent promise without hesitation.

Kirishima sucked in a deep breath. "I just... kinda wanted to know what made you agree to go out with me in the first place," he said in somewhat of a rush, his eyes flicking back toward the ground.

That... definitely wasn't what Bakugou had anticipated he would ask, and he felt his own shoulders drop a bit. Was the answer to that not fucking obvious? Seriously? Had Bakugou not made it obvious enough in the past few hours—or even days—that he liked this little fucker?

But taking an extra second to look at the other before he let those exact words spill off his tongue made it clear—Kirishima was insecure. He was afraid Bakugou had just gone out with him to humor him or someshit, because obviously the little fucker liked him, too. He wanted to be sure Bakugou was there because he wanted to be.

Jesus fuck, he was too damn cute for words.

"Same reason you asked me out in the first place, idiot," Bakugou told him. "Why else?"

"So it wasn't... just on a whim because I asked you? Or just because?"

Bakugou let a frown smush into his forehead. "Why the fuck would I do this shit 'just because'? You should know me better than to think I do shit for no reason and waste my time."

"I... yeah, I guess you're right, man..." Kirishima mumbled with a slight laugh. "And not on a whim then, either, right?"

Bakugou rolled a shoulder in a half shrug. "Maybe it was at first, but that's only 'cause I wasn't expecting it."

"You... weren't? Like, at all?"

"No? Was I supposed to be?"

"Wait—you mean... you really didn't know? Even after all the memes and the hints the others kept dropping, you didn't suspect I liked you at all?" he asked, looking genuinely fucking surprised.

Bakugou felt his throat tighten, and then he was the one who couldn't maintain eye contact any longer. "Fuck if I know," he muttered, glancing down the road. "I knew you liked somebody, and it didn't make sense that you'd send me that shit if that was the case unless it was me, but I didn't wanna be all cocky and assume shit or whatever."

Like a jackass, Kirishima ruffled a hand through his hair and laughed. He laughed. And as captivating a sound as it might've been (while Bakugou was still internally reeling from thinking such cheesy shit), his eyes flicked back up to the idiot, fingers automatically curling into fists and his teeth clenching, getting ready to chew him out for finding this funny.

"Aw man," Dumb Hair chuckled.

"What, asshole?!" Bakugou shouted.

"Nothing! It's nothing bad, man," Kirishima said quickly, holding out a hand as if that would calm Bakugou's temper. "It's just that there's a lot more to you than meets the eye, and I think I realize that more and more every day. And I really thought you kinda knew... I mean, I was flirting with you. With the memes, anyway, since I was... well, I am too chicken to do it in person. And with all the stuff all the other guys said, especially with Sero's comment the other day about asking, uh, 'you-know-who' out and then being shut up really quick by Mina. And then Kami pressuring us into playing the Pocky game. And since you sorta went along with all of it, they all just assumed you, um, liked me back? But I didn't wanna assume anything, either... but even Midoriya said something about it, and when you started getting a lot... um, closer after the... the Pocky thing... I figured asking you out was worth the risk. So here we are."

Shitty Hair said it all in somewhat of a rush, and sometime during all of it Bakugou relaxed despite his heart thudding so damn hard he could hear it rushing in his ears. He hated how flustered he felt—this was Kirishima, the person he'd probably consider to be his closest fucking friend, who already knew (and somehow understood) him so well despite it being a mere half a year since meeting him. And yet here he was, struggling to find something to say.

"Of... of fucking course I like you, Dumb Hair," he grumbled. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. Don't be an idiot."

Kirishima beamed. "That's good to know. But I... don't suppose you'd be okay with it if I said I, um, wanna kiss you again?"

Holy fuck, Bakugou felt like he was about to die. "Why the hell wouldn't I be okay with that?" he mumbled.

"I dunno!" the idiot nearly squeaked. "'S only our first date and I didn't wanna end up doing it too soon and freak you out or something, but at the same time I really wanna do it..."

"So just fuckin' do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, before I do it myself."

Bakugou couldn't tell if Kirishima's responding laugh was out of nerves or the legitimate joy shining right out of his eyes like two miniature, crimson suns as he swiveled his entire body to face Bakugou, scooting towards him after crossing his legs, but he figured it was more than likely a mix of both, and an exact reflection of the way Bakugou himself was feeling as Kirishima slowly leaned toward him.

"Is it... okay if I, um, touch your face a little? Like this?" His hand lifted as he formed the question and came to rest gently, so impossibly gently against the curve of Bakugou's jaw, his thumb resting delicately against Bakugou's cheek.

"Yes," Bakugou managed to breathe out. The little fucker's face was a mere couple of inches away from his own now, and as nervous and flustered as Bakugou definitely was, he suddenly couldn't look away from Shitty Hair and found himself using his eyes to map out his face, noting every tiny little freckle you wouldn't normally see from any sort of distance, the impossible length of his eyelashes, the little scar on his eyelid... and god, Bakugou never thought someone was so stupidly gorgeous in his life.

"Last chance to back out," Kirishima murmured.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me already," Bakugou murmured back, though he'd intended it as more of a growl. He felt so... so fucking soft.

There was but the huff of a laugh from Kirishima's lips before finally, finally, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips right up against Bakugou's, parted the tiniest bit and puckered to mold gently with Bakugou's, who instinctively felt himself reciprocating it, eyes fluttering shut.

An overwhelming feeling of this is supposed to be happening washed over him. It felt so weirdly... right. Like this was something he'd been unknowingly waiting for. Or maybe he was just caught up in the moment and having gross, mushy thoughts straight out of a romance movie; either way, it felt good. So damn good, in fact, that a wave of disappointment followed the bliss when Kirishima tugged away soundlessly. And goddamn he couldn't help himself; his hand came up to wrap around the front of Kirishima's hoodie to tug him back and kiss him again, a bit harder this time. Deeper, if only a little. He heard the other let out a small grunt of surprise, his fingers curling a bit, pressing more firmly into Bakugou's skin.

He hadn't imagined that weird thrill that'd exploded within him the first time they'd kissed—if that tiny brushing of the lips could even be considered a kiss at this point—because there it was, lighting up every single one of his nerves again when Kirishima pressed even closer, dragging it out a bit longer before they finally parted.

Bakugou kept his eyes shut, letting himself process what the hell just happened and admittedly trying to preserve the feeling a little. He could still feel Kirishima staying close, and his hand didn't drop from the side of Bakugou's head. Could hear his breathing, too. It was only when he spoke up did the world around them fade back in.

"Bakugou?"

He opened his eyes. Still only inches away, Kirishima's eyes were already open, his irises a bit glossy. He looked... almost worried, the beautiful fool.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Bakugou told him. I'm fucking fantastic is what he wanted to say, but how in the hell could he even begin to put into words how the fuck he was feeling, and let alone say them out loud without feeling like a complete idiot?

So instead he lifted his hand and pulled Kirishima's away from his face, though instead of letting go of it he pushed his fingers through the other's and held tighter than he had earlier, hoping that small gesture alone could reciprocate even a fraction of what he wanted to say.

Kirishima smiled. "I gotta say, man," he started, "That was definitely a lot better now that my mouth isn't full of pocky."

Bakugou clicked his tongue and deadpanned, "You're a moron."

As expected, Dumb Hair only laughed.

---

confession: i love writing kisses, even though i don't think i'm very good at it :')