Bakugou hadn't realized how many things would change when he and Iida began dating. If he'd stopped to consider the situation beforehand, it probably wouldn't have taken him so much by surprise; but he hadn't, so it did.
He knew that physical contact was normal within couples. Expected, even. And, on an objective level, Bakugou knew what that contact would consist of: hugging, kissing, holding hands, that sort of thing. He'd always tucked it into the "deal with later" folder in his brain, to be considered when the far-off time came, because dating, until Iida, had always been something far-off and nebulous.
Then, suddenly, he had a boyfriend, and that boyfriend wanted to touch him. The first time Iida hugged him, well, that was alright, because Bakugou had hugged people before. It was the same thing as hugging anyone, really. He put in effort to hug back more than he normally did, but the general principle was the same as always. No big deal.
Then, Iida held his hand.
Their fingers weren't even twined together - it was the less intimate kind of hand-holding, whatever it was called, where you just wrapped your hand around the other person's, palm to palm - but the touch still sent a shock through Bakugou's entire body. Iida's hand was a little cooler than his, and large, with a satisfying weight to it, but the sheer unexpectedness of the touch made him jump.
Iida dropped his hand quickly and said, "I'm sorry!"
And that was not alright with him. Bakugou hadn't meant for it to end - he just was surprised. So he snatched Iida's hand back and gripped it more tightly than Iida had held his a minute ago. Bakugou couldn't look him in the face, which was stupid, because it wasn't as if they were doing anything weird or embarrassing - but Bakugou felt himself blushing down to his collarbones. He heard Iida make a little huff of a laugh and felt him squeeze back. From that point on, while Iida usually initiated it, Bakugou always returned it; and somehow it seemed like Iida learned to know the precise moment when he wanted his hand held, like he was wiretapping Bakugou's brain or something. Or maybe, Bakugou mused later, maybe Iida wanted to hold his hand just as much as he wanted to hold Iida's. He hoped that was the case.
The first time Iida put his arm around Bakugou's shoulders was when they were in Iida's room, watching something on his computer. Iida had been glancing at him every now and then for a while, and Bakugou wondered if he was building up to asking something - Bakugou knew that feeling, himself - but instead of asking with words, Iida simply reached his arm across and set it on Bakugou's shoulders, as cool and calm as if he'd done this a thousand times before.
The angle was a little awkward on Bakugou's neck, but the sensation more than made up for that. Iida's arm had a good weight, and it allowed Bakugou to be pressed right up against Iida's chest - it brought the two of them as close as hugging, but they held this position for a much longer time, nearly the length of the entire movie. Iida's arm must have gotten sore at some point, because he extracted it and held Bakugou's hand instead, and that was nice, but Bakugou found it a little lacking. He found himself imagining the next time they might be in that position - whether he'd dare to slip his arm around Iida's waist and hold him at the same time, and what that might feel like.
Their first kiss, too, did not take Bakugou by surprise. Iida was terribly obvious, the way he kept staring at Bakugou's mouth, like it was a target he was making sure not to miss. And Bakugou knew he could speed things along: half of him wanted to, because the anticipation of it was almost killing him, but on the other hand the idea of making the first move in this situation was utterly terrifying. Even just imagining it had his heart pounding like he was mid-fight. No, better to let Iida lead. He licked his lips, waiting.
When they did kiss, it started off so small, so chaste. Their lips touched; they pulled back. Iida stared at him through dark eyes, his cheeks as pink as Bakugou knew his own must have been. Then Iida watched him for a long moment, reading his expression. Bakugou knew he was wearing a frown, but it wasn't an angry or unhappy one - it was more or less his default expression, and he knew Iida knew that. And, sure enough, just a second later Iida tilted his head down to kiss him again.
This one lasted longer, and Iida did something with his lips or his jaw and it felt - Bakugou didn't know the words for it, but it was good, the feeling he got. He reached his hands up and held on to Iida's upper arms, as if to hold him in place. Neither of them had ever kissed anyone else before, Bakugou knew, and so neither of them would have any idea of how good it was, relatively speaking; but he knew he liked it, liked being that close to Iida, to smell and taste him, to try something and feel Iida echo it in response. Bakugou opened his eyes once, briefly; Iida had his closed.
There were things Bakugou had never considered, too, touches so unexpected he wouldn't have been able to prepare himself for them if he'd tried. They'd sit across from one another at tables and their legs would always seem to brush; it might have been accidental, except Iida was always very careful not to scrape the metal of his engines against Bakugou's skin. Or they'd be sitting side by side, and their knees would bump, or their ankles. It didn't matter how many times this happened - Bakugou never quite got used to it, never could stop his heart from jumping at the contact, as if he still had an unrequited crush he was trying to keep under wraps.
One day, after he'd trained for hours the night before, they were in Iida's room, studying; Bakugou kept shifting, trying to get comfortable, stretching his arms and neck and back. Soreness was good, he always tried telling himself, but it still made focusing a bitch.
Iida cleared his throat. "Would you like me to…"
He paused, and when their eyes met, Bakugou noticed he was frowning a little. He was nervous, Bakugou realized. Whatever he was going to ask was something he wasn't sure about. So Bakugou waited, curious, and let him finish the sentence.
"Would you like me to give you a back massage?"
"Oh," Bakugou said. "Yeah. Sure."
He turned his back to Iida, who put his hands on his shoulders and then stopped. "Do you want to…" He tugged at Bakugou's shirt, and Bakugou got the message and took it off.
Iida's hands were pleasantly cool on the bare skin of his back, and even if he hadn't done anything but just touch him, Bakugou would have appreciated it. But Iida arranged his hands in a certain way, his fingers on the tops of Bakugou's shoulders and his thumbs on the muscles below, and dug his thumbs in, and Bakugou's reaction was almost instantaneous: he groaned and leaned forward, lowering his head to expose more of his skin to the touch.
"Tell me if it hurts," Iida said, and it did hurt, but it felt good at the same time. The sensation was similar to stretching a muscle nearly to its limit, a pleasure tinged with pain. Bakugou gritted his teeth but said nothing, and Iida worked his way across his back - first one shoulder, then another, then the base of his neck and down his spine. He tried to do Bakugou's lower back, too, but it was too ticklish; Bakugou squirmed away, trying not to laugh, and that was the end of the massage.
"Was that good?" Iida asked, taking his place once more at the table in the center of the room. "I haven't given many backrubs before, so I'm never sure if I'm doing the right thing."
"Yeah," Bakugou said, shaking out his arms once more, feeling the change in his body. "Yeah, I think it really helped." He felt looser, and a little less sore - and, more than that, he could still feel the places Iida's thumbs had dug into as he'd worked the knots loose. Bakugou liked that he could feel it even afterwards, like it was something he could carry with him. "Thanks."
Iida looked at him sharply, then nodded and smiled. "You're welcome, Katsuki."
Bakugou wanted to reciprocate these casual touches. He wanted to offer to massage Iida in turn, but he'd never done that before, ever; he'd probably be terrible at it, and end up hurting Iida somehow. Bakugou accepted everything Iida offered but didn't ask for more, although he found himself thinking of doing so quite often - he'd see Iida's face in profile and daydream of planting kisses on his cheek or jawbone, rubbing his nose on the coarser hairs on his sideburns and inhaling deeply. But something always held him back, even though Bakugou knew Iida would not mind.
One day, Iida was sick. He visited Recovery Girl and was told he'd recover within a few days if he got plenty of rest and kept himself hydrated. He told Bakugou all this through text, and said that under no circumstances should Bakugou visit him: he was contagious, after all.
But Bakugou was not one for following orders. He knocked on Iida's door, and entered when he heard a soft "Come in".
Iida was in bed, his head propped up on pillows, tissues scattered around him. He laughed weakly when Bakugou came over to where he lay. "I was wondering if you'd come," he said, his smile fond. "I knew I shouldn't have told you not to."
"That doesn't matter. Pretty sure there's nothing you could've said that would have made me stay away." Bakugou sat down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't bring you soup or anything, though."
"That's fine," Iida said quickly. "It's good just to have you here."
He looked so miserable, his nose pink and lips chapped, that Bakugou felt a sense of near-sadness to look at him. Iida was supposed to be healthy and strong and fast. It was the first time Bakugou had seen him sick, and it felt deeply wrong.
"But you don't need to get too close," Iida added. "Please don't feel obligated to be here, just because I'm not feeling well. I really don't want to get you sick as well."
"I've got a good immune system, or something," Bakugou said. "I hardly ever get sick." Maybe he was buoyed by Iida's air of utter helplessness, but Bakugou finally found it in him to lean forward and kiss Iida. Only once, and quickly; he could tell Iida couldn't breathe through his nose, and Bakugou didn't want him to feel like he was suffocating. But when he pulled back, Iida had a look of utter shock on his face.
"What?" Bakugou said.
"You… you kissed me." Iida raised a hand and touched his lips, as if it was his first-ever kiss.
"We kiss all the time, weirdo."
"I kiss you all the time. I can't think of a time you've ever kissed me first."
"Oh," Bakugou said, and a wave of guilt shot through him, because it was true. He couldn't say in words why - the fear of failure or rejection, even when he knew it was silly; the stupid paralyzing fear he felt at the idea of touching his own boyfriend.
But because he could not speak, he did the next best thing, the only thing he could think of: he brought himself a little closer on the bed, and put his arm around Iida, pulling him towards himself.
Iida made a happy noise, and Bakugou, though his cheeks were hot, leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Iida relaxed against him, leaned his head against Bakugou's shoulder and nestled in. They stayed like that for a long time, an hour or more, and Iida fell asleep against him. Bakugou watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.
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