Author's Note: inspired by this fanart by tumblr user keirookie, /post/164064897282/i-need-a-n-s-w-e-r-s
Since this damn website doesn't let you put links in at all, that's as best I could do^^ properly linked on my ao3 acct
Kirishima doesn't know what to do with all these feelings he's suddenly developed for his bro, so he asks Google. Manga spoilers up to about Chapter 123!
That smirk. That damn smirk.
His hand clenching around his palm, hot and sweaty and twitching in a way to make Kirishima think he might explode.
But that smirk, that mutter: "You idiot..." That if he allowed himself to believe it, it actually sounded tender.
Kirishima's heart leaped. He couldn't tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the fierceness in Bakugou's, small explosions going off behind him, propelling them higher in the air, swooping over the battlefield.
He wondered, if he closed his eyes would it feel like they were flying together?
The cheerful whoop and hollering he let out couldn't be contained. They'd pulled it off – all of them together – but somehow he felt he was really the crux that made the plan succeed. Midoriya had told him "If the one who calls out to him is a friend, then..."
He was Bakugou's friend. Bakugou confirmed this, every second their hands stayed clasped together.
Even after they returned to the ground, Kirishima could almost swear that Bakugou didn't want to let go. But when his grip slacked, Bakugou jerked out of his grasp, turning away with clenched teeth and muttering about how he hadn't been rescued. Oh well. Kirishima expected as much. He was so happy he didn't try to argue with him, just felt a euphoric relief as a smile split his face, placating his friend with sure's and yeah's and if-you-say-so's.
What was important was that Bakugou had taken his hand.
It felt momentous. He wasn't sure how yet, but a wall had been breached.
Kirishima doesn't know when he became the official Bakugou mediator, but he's not complaining.
Something simple like asking him where Bakugou was, like Kirishima had his own GPS on him, or when a group of them made plans and they'd ask Kirishima if Bakugou wanted to come as well. These were all things that if you were talking about any other classmate, would seem odd. But Bakugou had set himself apart from everyone else, disregarded others outright or if he did regard them, it was merely as "extras" in his own hero origin story.
Except for Kirishima.
He scratched his chin at that. Huh. Rolled his shoulders and stretched his back, huffing out a sigh. Iida was waiting for an answer.
"'Sounds fucking stupid, I'm going to bed,' is what he said..." Kirishima felt his face warm up. He was being too obvious again, wasn't he? It wasn't normal to remember exactly what a friend said, word-for-word, was it? Or maybe – maybe he's overthinking it. He shrugged and continued. "To be honest that doesn't sound like a bad idea to me." Yeah, yeah, just play it off. No one noticed, right?
Bed did sound good though, he wasn't lying. It'd been an exhausting day of unpacking and setting up his super manly decor in his new dorm room. After the not-very-thrilling conclusion of the dorm room competition, Kirishima retired to his new room. As he laid in his bed, eyes roaming over the poster of Crimson Riot that hung close by, he allowed himself to daydream a little. Just until he fell asleep.
He recalled how warm Bakugou's hand was in his. It was sweaty too, but his hand was always sweaty – he amended with fondness. Men were sweaty from working hard, and Bakugou was both of those things: Hard-working and a manly man. Nothing wrong with that. A flush crept down Kirishima's neck.
One of those damp, calloused fingers traced the hairline along Kirishima's forehead, curving along the shell of his ear. A puff of warm breath wafted against his cheek, and he turned to look at him. Carmine eyes, relaxed and open, flitted between his own and his mouth. Instinctively Kirishima felt his lips part in a soft gasp, and that mouth that was always in a sneer, curved at the corners just the slightest. The same smirk he'd given him at Kamino. Then he brought them to rest against Kirishima's.
Bakugou Katsuki smelled like smoke and tasted like artificial sweetener.
He pulled away, breath ghosting along Kirishima's nose and mouth. He ached to close the distance again, but Bakugou's voice stopped him.
"Kirishima," he whispered, in a voice Kirishima had never heard from him before, "Thank you for giving me your hand."
Kirishima huffed, the fantasy broken. Bakugou would never say that...
But more importantly, he just daydreamed about kissing his friend. His best bro friend. And it was doing weird things to his chest, making it feel too tight like he was having a heart attack or something. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Clutching his shirt, Kirishima bolted upright in his bed and panted, taking deep breaths in and letting them out slowly. With his palm flat against the spot above his heart he breathed until he felt his heart-rate slow to normal. This was bad. Really bad. How was he supposed to face Bakugou normally after this? How was he even supposed to fall asleep knowing they were now only separated by a wall?
With a sigh he plopped back onto his bed, tugging the sheets up to his chin in frustration.
What he needed to do was clear. The only way to lessen this ache in his chest, this strain on his shoulders was to find a way to tell Bakugou how he felt. At least a little bit; he didn't need to bare his soul but he did need to let him know how important he was to him.
But one could not simply say mushy things like "you're hella important to me bro" to Bakugou of all people without possibly receiving an explosion to the face following a bout of swearing. Sure, it's not like it would hurt Kirishima, but he wanted Bakugou to accept the meaning behind the words. He didn't want him to think he was just fucking with him to embarrass him. But he had no idea how to do that.
Kirishima sat in front of his laptop at his desk, typed into Google, "How to say 'I would do anything for you' but still sound casual", and hit enter. The search results loaded. He took a sip from his soda placed nearby.
After scrolling through the pages of results, most being utterly unhelpful in suggesting the impossibility of saying such a phrase casually, he finally found some advice he maybe could use:
"When asked to do a favor – anything big or small – respond in a light-hearted manner 'Sure, anything for you'"
Okay. Kirishima could do that. In fact that kinda already sounded like something he'd say. Bakugou probably wouldn't think that was too weird or smothering, and he'd get to release some of his pent up feelings into those words. He'd find some relief, let Bakugou know he was important to him, and all while not burdening Bakugou with his feelings.
Kirishima pumped his fist in the air. He was gonna do this! Bakugou was gonna have the most supportive bro in all of U.A.! Who would do anything for him! But in a casual, just-a-friend way! Yeah!
Now he just needed an opportunity to arise.
Turns out it was actually a lot harder than he thought it'd be.
Bakugou was not the type of person to ask for favors. He did everything himself, never asking for help, never needing help. Bakugou was still on house arrest after his fight with Midoriya so he wasn't in class all day, and when classes finally let out Bakugou spent the whole time cleaning around the dorms. Part of their punishment, Kirishima supposed. It was kinda cute watching him be domestic. Like everything Bakugou did, he did it at 100% and with full fervor.
Kirishima caught up to Bakugou outside the elevators, bringing a bottle of water with him. He tossed it to Bakugou after catching his attention. But of course his bro couldn't say "thank you" like a normal person would, that'd make things too easy. Instead Bakugou just unscrewed the cap and took a gulp of water without a word.
Looks like Kirishima needed to take things into his own hands.
"You're welcome!" he said cheerily, flashing the other boy a toothy grin. The sharp glare that greeted him made his smile falter. That was probably the wrong approach; now Bakugou thought he was being a sarcastic asshole, when really all he was doing was trying to get him to acknowledge him so he could say those words!
Of course Kirishima would screw this up.
Time for a different plan.
"Hey man, you hungry? There's some leftover curry in the fridge, I can heat it up for you?"
Bakugou regarded him with narrowed eyes, like waiting for the other shoe to drop. He slowly took another sip of water. Kirishima watched his throat bob as he swallowed, remembering the daydream he had last night. Artificial sweetener – he bet Bakugou tasted sweet all over. Especially right there, in the nook of his collar bone.
When he looked back up at his face, Bakugou had turned away, looking down at the trash bag at his feet and screwing the lid back on the bottle of water. Was it his imagination or did Bakugou seem a little red in the face? Must have been working hard to keep the dorms clean!
Bakugou shook his head and bent over to grab the trash bag at his feet, hefting it over his shoulders. He walked away to resume his cleaning, not even bothering to give Kirishima a proper answer.
Well damn. That backfired.
Another opportunity presented itself when Kirishima was hanging out in the common area with some of the guys and girls later that night. He was browsing through his phone, looking at memes and funny videos when Bakugou stomped over by the couches, lip of a trash bag opened wide. He planted his feet and held the bag up slightly away from himself.
"Bring your damn trash to me!" He roared like a declaration of war. The emphasis was on the me, as if the suggestion that Bakugou would go to other people to pick up their trash was out of the question.
Kirishima smiled, warm feelings spreading through him at the sight. How could he look so frickin' cute while yelling?
Then the idea popped into his head. Sure, it wasn't exactly asking for a favor, but a demand was pretty close, right?
Kirishima hopped to his feet, grabbing the juice box out of Kaminari's hand without asking. The other boy gave a half-hearted protest, but the juice box was almost empty anyway, so whatever. Panting, he hopped over to where Bakugou was holding the trash bag - perhaps too enthusiastically, judging by how Bakugou recoiled a little at his sudden presence – and tossed it in the bag.
"Anything for you, man!" He declared, and had to stop himself from fist pumping the air again. He did it! He already felt lighter somehow. Dude, confessing his inner feelings felt great!
But Bakugou stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, and Kirishima was suddenly aware of all the eyes boring into his back.
Had he gone overboard again?
Had he not been casual enough about it?
Maybe sprinting hadn't been the most natural way to throw a piece of trash away...
He could feel his cheeks heating up under all the stares. Oh no. Quick, find a way to fix it! Make it casual! Casual!
But it was too late, he'd already been standing there staring at Bakugou with his trash bag and rubber cleaning gloves for several beats too long; there was no way to rectify this. Kirishima turned to leave the room, belatedly realizing it would look even weirder if he were to just go to his dorm room after this. So he looped back around to the couch and sat back down next to Kaminari again, bringing his phone up to his face to hide the blush he was sure was making him bright red.
Jirou was holding back a snicker and Kirishima wanted to throw his phone at her.
"Anyone else have trash?" Bakugou grunted.
More time passed, and Kirishima only fell harder. Harder and stronger to the point where he stood just outside Bakugou's door, paralyzed with indecision.
He supposed it said something about him, that he'd be attracted to someone like Bakugou. Someone like Bakugou, versus someone kind and caring like Midoriya; or someone funny and laid-back like Kaminari. Or someone encouraging and bubbly like Uraraka, or smart and pretty like Yaoyorozu. Or...
Well, Kirishima could think of at least one thing about pretty much all of his classmates (except, maybe, Mineta) that would make them a better candidate to develop a crush on. But they all lacked a crucial quality, Kirishima decided. They lacked a certain Bakugouness.
None of them stacked up to Bakugou in his heart, and that's where the true test took place. Anyone could rationalize why they should or should not love someone, but the heart was where love blossomed and love did not listen to logic and reason.
None of them were Bakugou, and Bakugou was who he wanted.
In other words, Kirishima was screwed. He picked the most prickly person in his class to fall in love with, and boy had he fallen hard.
What did that say about him?
Did he enjoy being hurt?
Did he have some kind of savior complex?
Bakugou would just love that, if it were true. But Kirishima knows he doesn't need to be saved, and god, he would never want Bakugou to think that. Yeah, Bakugou could stand to soften around the edges a little, learn to accept a helping hand on occasion, but other than that Kirishima didn't think he needed to change. Didn't want him to change.
Bakugou was sharp and prickly and full of fire and liable to throw shrapnel at the drop of a hat, but it was OK because Kirishima couldn't be hurt by any of that.
What was he so afraid of anyway? He was happy, wasn't he? There was no reason to change anything, everything was fine the way it was. This was enough. Those little moments between them, when Bakugou's sneer seemed to lessen, when his teeth stopped grinding together – they would suffice. He didn't need anything else.
Except, maybe, to hold his hand again? Was that too much to ask for?
It drove him crazy. Why did Bakugou take his hand? Kirishima knew why he reached out – he was his friend, but it was more than that, he knew that now. But for Bakugou, whose pride was like a beast living inside him, sabotaging him at all the worst times – why did he take his hand? Had Midoriya been right about Bakugou seeing him as an equal?
He smacked his cheeks a couple times, trying to shock himself into action. God, what was he doing? Here Kirishima was, at a very crucial time in his life when he should be focusing completely on becoming a hero, standing outside Bakugou's door and wondering if Bakugou also got butterflies in his stomach when he thought of him.
And as if he had telepathic powers, the door suddenly opened and Bakugou stood there and stared at Kirishima.
"I can hear you thinking from all the way inside," he barked, leaning one hand against the door frame and bringing the other to rest on his hip. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Kirishima yelped, bringing his arms out in a defensive stance and activating his quirk on instinct. When he saw Bakugou raise a questioning eyebrow, he softened his arms back to normal and huffed out a nervous laugh.
"Dude, you scared me! I uh -" OK, now or never Kirishima, don't puss out! "I actually was wondering if you could help me with the English homework?"
Bakugou cocked his head.
"Hah? Why don't you go ask Ponytail? You know, someone who was actually at the lesson?" He snapped and stood up straight, reaching for the door like he was about to slam it shut.
This prompted Kirishima to wave his hands out in front, stopping Bakugou in his tracks. "Come on, man, we both know you're far ahead on the grammar. Please?"
Bakugou glared at him for a moment. After a deep breath, he shrugged. "Fine." He shut the door to his dorm room behind himself and started walking to Kirishima's door.
For some reason this wasn't what Kirishima was expecting. "Oh? We're gonna do it in my room?" He winced at his own wording, but luckily he was behind Bakugou so he couldn't see his face.
"What do you think, idiot? I don't have any fucking class notes, and yours are in your room, aren't they?"
"Uh, right!"
The gelled clump of hair fell in his eyes again, obscuring his vision from the very important English notes Bakugou was currently explaining to him. It was getting late, and apparently he hadn't put in enough product that morning to last until bedtime. And Bakugou speaking English was... doing something to him. It was distracting, somehow.
Bakugou stopped talking mid-sentence. "Are you even paying attention, Hair-For-Brains?"
Kirishima frowned. "Hey, I am! And I thought I told you to stop calling me that!"
"Tch." Bakugou's eyes wandered over his face, making him wonder if there was something on it. Then he reached forward on the desk and took the bandanna laying there and shoved it in Kirishima's chest. "Get your dumb hair out of your face and stop slacking. There's better ways for me to waste my time, you know."
"I know, I know," Kirishima said, tying the headband over his forehead and pushing it up a little to keep his falling hair out of his eyes. There, now he could see. "And I appreciate this, man, I really do. You're so nice to me and -"
Oh, he was saying too much. The look Bakugou was giving him, like he was both simultaneously disgusted and intrigued, told him this was a conversation the one prone to exploding was not prepared to have. But he couldn't leave the thought half-said; the manly thing to do is persevere!
He cleared his throat.
"Well, yeah, you are nice to me, at least compared to everyone else. And that makes me... really happy."
Now Bakugou looked downright pissed. He had turned away, absorbed in looking at the calendar hanging above the desk, hand covering his mouth as he cradled his chin in it, muscles and tendons straining against skin. He was ready to bolt. Or explode. Probably the latter.
"And I've been thinking about Kamino lately..." Bakugou tensed further, if it were even possible. "And I wanted to tell you that I'm so glad you took my hand. It really meant a lot to me."
Kirishima sighed then, feeling the tension and worry over the past few weeks leak out of him with the admission. This was better. It wasn't everything, but it was enough for now. He didn't want to think about how long this confession would last him, how much time it would buy until he would need to spill his guts some more.
"And you would do anything for me."
Bakugou's voice was muffled by his hand when he spoke, but Kirishima heard him clearly. His cheeks flushed and his heart dropped to his stomach. Well, it was true. He'd pretty much said as much before already, even though he'd tried to play if off as a joke.
Which was a really stupid idea, because his feelings for Bakugou were no joke. He was super in love with his best friend. Kirishima didn't think it was fair to unload these emotions onto Bakugou, but at the same time he knew it wasn't cool to keep pretending everything was the same as before. In the end, this was the right decision.
He breathed in deep through his nose, smelling the air. Slightly sweet, a little smokey. He wanted to taste Bakugou to confirm his suspicions.
"Yeah." He nodded, struggling to keep his voice firm. "Yeah, I would."
They were quiet after that. Awkwardness hung over them like a thick, warm blanket, somehow both suffocating and comforting in its mutuality. Kirishima watched Bakugou, who hadn't so much as moved a muscle since the confession, still cupping his chin in his hand and resting against it like a pillow, hunched over the desk and the long-forgotten English assignment. He thought his hand looked like a muzzle, like what they'd put on him during the awards ceremony at the Sports Festival. Bakugou was muzzling himself this time, like maybe he didn't trust himself to speak.
And that just hit Kirishima in all the wrong ways. Because Bakugou should never be muzzled, should never be restrained like that ever again.
To rectify his mistake in speaking, he slowly – carefully – scooted forward on the bed and reached a hand out palm-up, building a bridge between them. He had to lean forward a little to close the gap between them, and the movement was enough to finally call Bakugou's attention away from the wall decor. His red eyes snapped to the palm and he blinked several times.
Kirishima waited with bated breath. If Bakugou took his hand, he didn't really know what that would mean for them; but if he didn't, it would be clear enough to Kirishima what that signaled. Eventually, Bakugou moved. He pushed the chair back roughly, nearly knocking Kirishima's knees in the process, and after kicking the chair back in to fit under the desk, plopped on the bed next to him. They were so close their thighs touched.
Kirishima felt like an idiot like that, arm still extended and ignored as if the gesture was meaningless. He almost wanted to cry, but that would be super unmanly. But before he could think too much into it, Bakugou tugged on his arm, bringing it in to rest on his lap, and pressed their palms together.
Bakugou wasn't muzzled anymore, but there was no need for words; Kirishima heard him loud and clear.
With his unoccupied hand, Bakugou grabbed the forgotten English assignment and placed it in his lap.
"Pay attention now. You'll do anything for me, yeah? So fucking get this so I don't have to keep teaching your stupid ass."
Kirishima smiled. And he tried really, really hard not to think about Bakugou's sweaty hand or that damn smirk tugging at his lips, that smirk that said "you idiot" with such subtle fondness.