Kirishima knew a lot of things.
Bakugou was known for making an entrance. Not for being shy. Nervous, yes - He had been observed to stress, but it never occurred outside of battle.
Kirishima knew this, so the moment their hall vibrated with the force of their door being forced open and slammed shut in the space of a breath but lacked any vocal introduction, his head leaned backward to spot the intruder.
Because the person grumbling under his breath at the kitchen counter, shuffling his feet in an agitated fashion could not have been his best friend.
The blonde fluff on his head was still frizzy from his shower that morning, jeans and tank top not quite ironed. It was still quite early - 7:56, meaning their class was over an hour from beginning. Reaching the end of their first year, they got into a habit. Though Bakugou was reluctant to call it that, Kirishima would go so far as to say they've become friends. They trained together, and sat in silent company often enough to call it the beginnings of an interaction.
And through that, Kiri got a personal insight into parts of the fire master that others did not.
He could tell his annoyance from anger, and his passiveness to be a quiet happiness. Or at least, content.
He could tell when he was stressed, and when he was nervous.
And right now, he was terrified.
"Hey. You know "death state" is a phrase, right? You can't actually set the shelves in fire by glaring at them."
"Fuck off, Kiri."
Over the months he'd also dropped the insults -for most - but still wasn't comfortable using their full names. It was progress, though.
There was one person that was the exception to this rule.
And Kirishima knew that, too. He really was getting the hang of this observation thing.
It didn't start after the sports festival - No, it took a little longer, a couple more months of fights, both training battles between them and the unfortunate times they'd been attacked whilst out on the field trips.
The more time Bakugou spent around Uraraka, the more invested he became. He'd spot him sometimes coming back from the gym, face red and blushing, muttering about her fucking thighs, and her dumbass face, and that fucking- He usually made his presence known, then, not eager to find out what other part of Ochako his flatmate thought so intensely about.
The first time he was caught, he almost set the other boy on fire from surprise and embarrassment, but eventually he warned up enough to come clean about his growing obsession. And, turning the tables of surprise on his thick-skinned mate, Bakugou was really fucking soft when it came to her.
He was almost giddy everyone she came up between them both, and it took everything in Kirishima not to burst out laughing the first time he realised it.
Only between them, though.
That's why this morning, the blonde was so goddamn terrified.
Nobody else knew. He had a feeling some suspected it, with rumours that spread faster than a wildfire thanks to their invisible friend. No pun intended. Maybe he was a little possessive, and spoke up for her or about her more often than necessary, but he brushed it off as his attempts at friendship and being more approachable. He just thought their quirks worked best together, and nobody else was quite as well matched when it came to picking mission pairs.
Bakugou's knuckles shimmered with his fuel-sweat, making fireworks dance on his fingers.
He hates to admit it but his fingers slipped too often when he got ready today, shaking as he brushed his hair three times too many before exiting his room, stopping only because it was becoming freakishly alike to his aesthetic during his internship with Best Jeanist, and that was not an option for today. He wanted to look like himself. Like a handsomer, kinder, calmer himself.
Like someone capable of love.
Pulling up a seat on the couch by Kirishima, a plate of breakfast pastries on his knees, he ran his hands over his face with a groan.
"...Maybe I should just send her some fucking flowers with a note. Or a balloon with a letter tied to it, like in that one stupid Disney movie. What if I end up ripping over my own feet?"
What if she still thinks I'm an asshole?
"Baku, man...You gotta chill. Uraraka is a nice girl. She's patient, and she wouldn't judge someone by their past….or present."
"What are you trying to say?! I've been trying! I've been... friendly."
"Two days ago you set off the fire alarm because you could hear Momo and Todoroki fucking and couldn't get some earplugs."
"...It was gross." Biting into his food, he wiped the crumbs from his face with the back of his hand. Bakugou easily took up half the sofa with his legs stretched out onto the carpet below, but it was large enough to accommodate for many more, leaving Kirishima with plenty space to stretch his arms. His joints sometimes got stiff from overusing his quirk, forcing him to stretch every couple hours.
"Yeah, whatever dude - Just ask. It's not like you're asking her to marry you, it's just a date."
Checking on the piece of bread he just swallowed, Bakugou resisted the urge to knock Kirishima upside the head. Nobody mentioned fucking marriage! Just...A date.
"If you don't do it, Izuku might. He's still pretty into her, if you saw last week at lunch-"
"Fuck no."
Porcelain shook in fear of his anger as the boy stood, running a sweaty hand through his hair. It singed in a few places, but he patted it out walking his plate to the sink.
This time, Kirishima didn't even bother to hide the loud bark of laughter. Deku and Bakugou has come to a reluctant agreement to move past their grudges in favour of a better classroom mechanic, but there was one trigger that remained, though neither would mention it to her. As Bakugou became a more natural, welcome part of their friend group, it only took him a couple of days to notice how protective Izuku was of Uraraka. They were all caring towards each other, that wasn't the point - He just wanted to care for her himself. Alone.
Sunlight has changed its hue from a pale purple to a warmer yellow as they spoke. They'd have to leave soon, and by the tapping of his foot against the wooden floor, Bakugou was growing restless.
"Hey, hurry up hammer-head!"
Okay, the nicknames weren't completely dropped. But there hard edge to his voice was gone, replaced with a lighter tone of humour and a certain warmth.
No, Bakugou wasn't the squishy friendliness he was so used to seeing in their classroom - he was still abrasive and rough, and had a high chance of combustion at the wrong remark - But he was slowly losing his harshness, contagious care from their team rubbing away at him like the best sandpaper.
And when he asked Uraraka Ochako out today, she wouldn't say no.
Kirishima just knew that.