He wakes up in a puddle of his own sweat, sheets sticking to his legs and hair plastered to his face, with the knowledge that his air conditioning unit has finally kicked the bucket. He pulls what's left of the sheets off his body along with his now soaked tank and boxers and puts them in his laundry basket. The alarm clock reads 7:43am in red digits and he glares at it for minute or two until he feels like he's wasted enough time being angry at his lack of sleep.
He does his lazy morning stretches in a fresh pair of boxer briefs. Bending forward until his elbows almost touch the ground, bridging back and kicking his feet over to stand again, rolling his ankles and wrists and neck until he feels loose and relaxed.
The apartment is small. The last affordable one bedroom in the city. Shared mostly by college frat boys and broke losers like him. In two steps he's in the bathroom taking a morning piss, a short spin and he's washing his hands, two more steps and he's in the kitchen heating water for the French press trying to make do with his lack of counter space and two burner stove top. While he waits for the water to boil he treds over to the living room window and shoves the frame up while balancing the hunk of plastic that was once an AC unit. It's not much better outside than inside. It is July, but the breeze chills the sweat on his forehead and back a little. He unplugs the unit and carries it over to the front door for later disposal.
After pouring the water into the press to steep its back to the living room, the only room he can stretch both arms out as wide as he can without hitting a wall. This is where he keeps his most prized possession, a long silver pole sturdily attached to floor and ceiling. He scrolls through his phone picking the playlist to best fit his mood this morning, turns on the small Bluetooth speaker in the far corner by the window and turns to grasp the pole with both hands.
For those three and a half minutes he's completely lost in the music, focused on how his body moves and grasps the pole in time, spinning and turning and lifting himself. He relaxes into the knowledge that he looks weightless right now even as his muscles strain to hold the full weight of his body. He lays his back onto the pole as the song ends, feet and calves keeping him suspended while he extends his arms and hair drops from his face.
In the lull of the song ending he hears something foreign. Faint clapping interspersed with a woot. He opens his eyes and grasps the pole beneath him, flipping over with ease and lowering his feet to the ground. The glare is already hard set on his face as he makes his way over to turn off the speaker mid intro and in the next movement stick his head out the window because he knows nobody would be foolishly applauding him if they wanted to live. He jerks his head around once, hair flying, before his eyes settle on a red head one story up and a little to the left in the building not twenty feet across from his own. He's leaning his whole upper body out the window as he claps, grin so wide his eyes squint.
The guy barely makes out the words, "Holy shit! That was awesome, man!" before he's stepping back and slamming the window shut without a word, letting the blinds drop with a thud.
He chugs the coffee while it's still hot, tugs on his running shorts (if you could even call them that) and shoes and foregoes a shower to sweat more. Anything to get the events of last night off his mind. The apartment is two blocks from the park, a heavily wooded area with miles of running trails. He sprints the two blocks and slows to a jog as he reaches the park. This is his territory. He's not a fool, he knows exactly what he's doing jogging in his rainbow striped shorts that barely cover his assets and nothing else. He takes it slow around the curve of the river, eyes searching for something preferably tall and muscular. Instead what he gets is clumsy feet running up behind him, yells of "Hey! Wait up!" His face wrinkles up into a scowl and he speeds up, choosing to ignore the figure behind him.
It's no use though. He's beside him in an instant breathing heavily and settling into a jog. "Wow! You're fast! I didn't think I'd catch up to you for a second there!" He gets a better look of him now that he's less than a foot away and not twenty feet across and a story up. His red hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, transparent white t-shirt and loose basketball shorts that look like they were just thrown on, tennis shoes with the laces already unknotting, and a grin so wide his face might crack from the force of it. He has to avert his eyes to keep from staring at his lean torso and arms.
The guy laughs with his whole body, "You're not a morning person are you?" He grunts in reply. "I just moved here," he continues undeterred, "My name's Eijiro Kirishima. Need a workout buddy?" as he says this he's jogging backwards just enough ahead to stop in his path and stick his hand out for a shake.
He stops, fully taking in the guy before him. He's little taller, but not by much, and boy is he built. He lets the hand hang there awkwardly in the space between them. "I don't need a workout buddy."
Kirishima doesn't falter. He pulls his arm back to scratch the back of his neck. "Ha. I'm sure you don't! I mean, look at those shoulders! You're a beast!" He reaches his other hand out to touch said shoulders, but he flinches back.
"What are you, a fucking faggot?" Kirishima's full body flinches and he takes a step back frowning. He can finally see Kirishima's eyes as the search up and down his body.
"What, and you aren't?" He doesn't even seem angry. Just confused. And he has to bite back the thought well, he's got me there, because he is out here to do some midmorning cruising in the gayest jogging shorts money can buy.
The stare off doesn't last long before he breaks contact to stare at Kirishima's shoes. "You know, that wasn't a free show." And then he's off again at his regular jogging pace. He doesn't even want a hookup anymore. He just wants to go home.
He can hear Kirishima's footsteps behind him and he stops and turns, opening his mouth but the other man beats him to it, "I don't know my way back to the apartment." He frowns and turns back around. Kirishima jogs a few feet behind him the rest of the way.
Unbelievable as it is, he sees Kirishima again in only a few hours in the apartment's shared basement laundry room waiting for his clothes to dry. He's got a book out in front of him when Kirishima walks in and they both freeze looking each other dead in the eye. Kirishima is the first to break it off this time, swinging his basket onto the table with a "Hey man, I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to stare like some weirdo. I just saw you and what you were doing was so cool I couldn't look away. Won't happen again I promise!" all rushed out on the exhale before he can even blink or scoop up his belongings and leave. Fuck, he really wants to leave, but that means risking loosing at least ten pairs of underwear, his bed sheets, and his favorite running shorts and every penny counts now that he's unemployed.
He settles on staring at his book and scowling. He's not really focusing on the words, just trying to give off the impression that he doesn't want to be bothered. He's not angry. He just doesn't know what to say.
Kirishima loads his laundry in silence and by the time he's done he's standing in the spot across the table from him with a "Hey. How do you feel so comfortable running around in…." he chokes on his spit a little, "that all by yourself. Aren't you scared of…?" the question trails off and hangs in the air. They both know what he's trying to say but neither wants to finish the thought.
He lets out a noise caught between an exhale and a laugh, "It's a cruising spot in a college town. There's not much to be afraid of."
"A what?" He looks up at Kirishima for the first time since he entered and notices his hair is down and hanging around his face, stopping just above his shoulders. Kirishima takes this as an invitation to pull out a chair.
"You've never heard of cruising? What kind of fag are you?" Kirishima flinches. His eyebrows draw together and lips turn into a tight frown.
"Can you stop using that word?" Kirishima mumbles looking at his hands on the table.
"Fag? What, that's what you are, aren't you?" He can't contain himself. He doesn't know how to diffuse situations only exacerbate to the point of explosion. Kirishima doesn't explode though, he silently implodes, shoulders hunching in. He looks small. He looks like he might cry.
"I'm not denying what I am. Just, please stop using that word." It's silent except for the sounds of the spin cycle and a washer filling with water. His washer beeps to signify the end of cycle and he gets up moving his clothes and sheets to the nearest dryer before settling back in his chair.
"You ever see Stranger by the Lake?" Kirishima lifts his head, his face scrunched in confusion.
"No?"
"Angels in America?"
"What are you talking about?"
He sighs, "For a gay guy you don't know shit about gay culture."
Kirishima is wearing that stupid little grin again as he puts his hand out into the space between them, "Hi, I'm Eijiro Kirishima. I just moved here."
He takes his hand this time, gripping it tight, "Katsuki Bakugo." And damn it all if he isn't grinning a little too.
Katsuki's not sure how it happened but they start to fall into a routine. In the early am hours Bakugo gets his playlist ready, stretches and practices his pole dancing then its jogging with Kirishima. He insists it's just until he has a better lay of the land but by the third day Bakugo knows this is going to be a regular thing. Kirishima talks at him a lot. Exuberant and vaguely nauseating but endearing none the less, Bakugo hangs on every word even when he has nothing to respond with. After their run they head to the gym and lift weights, Bakugo signing him in as his guest. And then they cool down with more stretching.
"Pick your goddamn mouth up off the floor, shitty hair." Bakugo's sitting with both feet pressed against each other and tucked into his body, his torso practically perpendicular to the ground, forehead less than an inch from touching the yoga mat.
Kirishima's mouth snaps shut, "How do you do that?" Bakugo looks up and sees his eyes are saucers, flitting from his hips to his face to his hips again.
"Practice. You could do it too if you stretched more."
They part ways after the gym to shower and drop off job applications. Kirishima having just moved is also desperately looking for employment, while Bakugo has trouble finding a place that doesn't know about his reputation. They meet back up in the evenings at Kirishima's apartment for shitty beer and Kirishima's introduction to gay culture lessons. Kirishima's apartment is nice. A little bigger. His roommate is a lot like Kirishima but if Kirishima were painfully straight and Bakugo maybe sees him once that whole first week. The living room is a standard living room much unlike Bakugo's own. The TV and couch aren't anything to write home about but its cozy enough and he can plug an HDMI cord into the TV and that's all they can ask for.
Lessons usually consist of watching influential movies or TV, introducing Kirishima to Grindr (because seriously he doesn't even know what Grindr is) and then explaining the terminology which takes hours because holy fuck he's forgotten what it's like to be this innocent and new to the big gay world.
They're dozing off to The Producers when Bakugo faintly notices that Kirishima has leaned over in his sleep and is resting his head on Bakugo's shoulder. He smiles and closes his eyes.
Its two weeks into their routine when Kirishima deviates and shows up at Bakugo's door at least two hours before Bakugo would have shown up at his. He's in the middle of making dinner, spicy beef curry, and he hurries Kirishima in without really thinking about the last time he'd let someone into his apartment.
"Hey! Sorry I'm so early! I got some really exciting news I wanted to share!" He's looking around Bakugo's apartment curiously. His eyes stray to the pole in the center of the living room for a while before he meanders into the kitchen and leans against the wall.
"Yeah?" Bakugo asks noticing the way Kirishima eyes his curry and licks his lips. There's a low gurgle and Kirishima blushes.
"Sorry. Guess I was so excited I forgot to eat." He smiles and rubs the back of his head. Bakugo wordlessly pulls out a second bowl and sets it next to his own before filling both up with curry and rice.
"I got a job." He says after Bakugo does the dishes. They both lean against the counter with their bowls in hand. There's nowhere to really sit in Bakugo's tiny apartment. "I thought maybe we could go out and celebrate."
"Oh yeah?" Bakugo says after swallowing a mouthful, "Where were you thinking?"
"Well…." Kirishima's shyly looking at his feet and nudging one foot with the other. "Do you know that bar downtown? Plus Ultra?"
Bakugo tries to play off his shock by turning to wash his bowl in the sink. "Pfft. You don't want to go to that shitty gay bar. I'll take you somewhere actually cool." He doesn't turn back around until he can feel the heat fade from his cheeks.
"R-really? But Tetsu told me-"
"Trust me." He can't quite make eye contact, "That place sucks."
They walk through the park to the metro in silence. Kirishima prattles on about something he can't focus on while they wait for the train, but not for lack of trying. He's all grins as the train pulls up. Practically vibrating with nervous energy. Bakugo knows it's his first time going to a gay bar but he can't help but think Kirishima is trying too hard. His jeans hug ever curve of his muscular legs, hair is spiked back neatly, and is that a bit of eyeliner? Bakugo isn't sure. It's the rainbow striped shirt though that screams out to everyone within eyesight I JUST CAME OUT!
Bakugo on the other hand is just one step above his I just stepped out of the house to grab a coffee look. Loose fitting jeans and a black t-shirt that fits him just right to be sexy without really trying.
They change trains after a few stops and finally get off a block away from a strip of bars and late night restaurants. He guides Kirishima down the street to a storefront. It's lacking a sign but the rainbow flag out front and the men huddled outside smoking cigarettes in tight clothes give the bar away for exactly what it is.
They flash the bouncer their ids and open the door to a wall of noise and light. There are bodies pressed to the wall, the bar, the dance floor. Everything glows a dim purple and shimmers as lights bounce and weave among the crowd.
Kirishima's wide eyed, jaw about to hit the floor. He can't choose one thing to look at so his eyes settle on Bakugo and he smiles. "Wanna go get a drink?"
Bakugo swallows what little spit is in his mouth. He's nervous in these kinds of settings and has to actively remind himself to let his shoulders relax. "Let's do it."
The bar is packed, but with a flash of Kirishima's toothy grin there's a bartender upon them in seconds handing Kirishima shots and beers before Bakugo can even pull out his credit card. Kirishima hands him a shot and lifts his own in the space between them. "To new friends!" They clink glasses, thump them on the bar and knock the shot back. Kirishima shudders as he swallows while Bakugo takes a swig of beer.
"I can buy my own beer, you know."
Kirishima laughs that full body laugh of his, "Yeah, right! I've seen your apartment!"
Bakugo grumbles, "So where's this job of yours?"
"Oh! Uh, it's at this bookstore in uptown!"
"Bookstore? Don't you like, have to know stuff about books?" he quirks an eyebrow while taking another sip of beer.
Kirishima laughs again, "Yeah! I'm an English major!" his smile drops a little, "Or, well, I was an English major."
"You don't go to the university?"
"Next year. I have to wait so I can transfer with in state tuition."
"Oh."
They sip their beers in silence for a few minutes.
"Are you in school?"
"No." Kirishima looks puzzled and like there's a hint of another question on his mouth, but Bakugo knocks back his beer and slams it on the bar. "Let's dance." It's not a question and he doesn't turn around to see if Kirishima follows as he makes his way to the edge of the dance floor. He closes his eyes and moves his body, losing himself to the music. When he opens them Kirishima is in front of him, looking clumsy and awkward, but smiling and looking around in excitement. They dance like that for a while occasionally making eye contact before Kirishima tries to yell something in his ear that's drowned out by the music. Kirishima grabs his wrist and lightly tugs him back to the bar where he orders them more shots and beer.
They don't really talk this time. Taking sips of their beer and watching the flow of men dancing in amicable silence. The bartender brings them a round of shots before they finish their beers from some guy they can't see at the other end of the bar. They knock back the shots, Bakugo never one to turn down a free drink.
"Should I send him a drink back?" Kirishima asks all doe eyed and Bakugo has to remind himself again just how new all of this is to him.
"Are you interested in him?"
"Not really…"
"Then save your money."
They head back onto the dance floor. Bakugo can feel the buzz of alcohol burning through him. His face is hot and without seeing himself he knows his cheeks are pink. He watches as Kirishima dances, eyes closed, head tilted back, a line of sweat running down his neck. His movements no longer awkward. Kirishima leans forward to his ear. Over the music all he can hear is something, something, "bathroom" before he hums in reply and Kirishima disappears. He closes his eyes again and just lets go to the music, vaguely wishing he was at home with his pole or somewhere else he's been trying not to think about. It's at that moment when his guard is completely let down that someone approaches and puts their hands on his hips.
Bakugo opens his eyes with a start and frowns seeing the blonde guy in front of him with a smug look on his face. He tries to pry the hands off him, but fingers are digging in and the guy is leaning in. He's loud over the music. "Remember me, huh? I remember when you danced like that for me. You look better with less clothes on."
Bakugo grinds his teeth and spits out loud enough for several people around them to hear over the music, "Fuck off."
"Oh, c'mon. You looked so good on that pole." Bakugo finally rips his hands off and starts to lunge forward when strong arms wrap around his torso and Kirishima's head appears at his shoulder.
"Hey, is this guy bothering you?"
Bakugo doesn't even acknowledge him. He stares directly at the blonde guy and spits out "I'll fucking murder you." Spit literally flying from his mouth.
The guys grins as he wipes the spit from the corner of his mouth.
"Yo! Monoma! Are you being a creep again? C'mon let's go!" The red head appears out of nowhere, her hair pull back into a long ponytail. She starts to pull Monoma away by the back of his shirt collar.
Monoma actually has the nerve to cackle, "Dance for me again sometime, Danger!"
Kirishima loosens his grip and Bakugo leans back into him suddenly tired and overwhelmed.
"What was that about?"
"Let's just fucking go, okay?"
His anger might have sobered him up in the club but once his skin hits the night air and they're walking down the sidewalk he feels uncoordinated and rightfully drunk. They don't talk for a while and they don't head for the metro, walking a little aimlessly. Bakugo chews at his lip and his eyebrows pinch together until his face hurts from the force of his frustration.
Kirishima stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. "Hey." Bakugo looks up at him. "Where are we going?"
"Fuck." Bakugo looks around for a second determining where they are. "Metro's that way." And points in the direction they just came from. They turn around and Bakugo focuses on leading them back where they'd come from.
It's late and the trains come less frequently, but it's packed with all the other young adults out for a Saturday night on the town laughing and talking loudly.
"Hey," Kirishima says again and as Bakugo looks up Kirishima takes his thumb and presses it in the space between his eyebrows and rubs it up his forehead, fingers lightly touching the side of his face. "Stop doing that." And turns back to face the train lights hurtling towards them.
They pack into the cars like sardines. Standing and holding onto the rails overhead. Sweaty bodies almost pressed against each other. Bakugo watches Kirishima up close looking down at him and smiling and as the train starts forward he stumbles a bit bumping against him. It's okay though, because it's Kirishima.
The crowd thins at the next stop and before they know it they're getting off to switch lines. Their line home is a lot less crowded. The few people waiting for their train are spread out and it's quite for the most part. The minutes seem to drag on in their drunken state. Bakugo sways from one foot to another humming.
"What was that guy talking about?" Bakugo frowns and doesn't answer. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
A few minutes later the train pulls up. Their car is empty save three other people all with their headphones in heading home from a late night at work. They take a seat at the back of the car away from everyone else.
The train starts up and they settle in for the next twenty minutes or so it takes to get to their stop. It's cold on the train but Kirishima's body next to his feels warm so he rests his head on his shoulder and slides his hand into his, tucking his arm between Kirishima's arm and body and whispers "Thanks." He's pretty sure Kirishima hears him when he feels the grip on his hand tighten.
Waking up the next morning isn't so bad. He's alone in his own bed sweating his ass off like every morning since his ac unit kicked the bucket and while his head hurts it not anything some ibuprofen won't help. He scoops up the cup of water next to his bed and shuffles to the kitchen to put some coffee on while he showers. His mind is blank, just going through the motions of waking up. Back in the kitchen he sips his coffee while towel drying his hair and stairs at the pole for a while. It doesn't have the same appeal it usually does and something inside him churns a little.
He's setting up a pan with some eggs and bacon when Kirishima knocks on his door. He's a regular ray of sunshine bouncing on his feet and grinning, talking about how great last night was and how he can't wait to go to a gay bar again. Bakugo puts on another pot of coffee and puts more food in the pan.
"Dude why is your apartment so hot?" He asks over breakfast as they sit side by side on the counter top.
Bakugo's mid sip in his coffee answers by gesturing to the ac unit that hasn't move from its place by the door.
"Oh. Hey, can I take that back to my apartment with me? Tetsu has a friend that fixes junk like that. He says stuff even works better than it did after she's done."
Bakugo shrugs. "Sure. It's not like I'm going to do anything with it."
Kirishima helps as much has he can with cleaning up the tiny kitchen without getting in the way and then they fall into their normal morning routine. Stretch, run, weights, stretch, part ways. Kirishima is all smiles and nervous chatter excited for his first day at the book store and Bakugo solemnly steels himself for another day of rejections and nervous glance.
"You're going to find something today." Kirishima says as he heads towards his own apartment. "I feel it."
He does find something. He meets with the head chef of a fancy restaurant downtown and after showing off some of his culinary skills they offer him the job right then and there. He can't tell if chef Shoto is oblivious to his reputation, desperate for employees, or just doesn't care, but he fills out a W2 form before he leaves and uses the rest of the money he'd put away in savings to buy a set of knives and reload his metro card for the month.
Kirishima must see him walk into the apartment building from his window because Bakugo has just enough time to set down his knives before Kirishima's knocking at his door grin bubbling over barely able to contain himself.
"Soooooo?" He sings. "How'd it go?"
"I got the job."
"Really? I knew you would! Where?" He's grabbing the pole and spinning around the room, arms wide, smiling like an idiot. Bakugo is too relieved to finally have an income again that he doesn't even scold him.
"Fire and Ice. Sounds like some stupid Game of Thrones bar. I didn't even want to go in there." He starts pulling off his nice button down he'd worn to the interview and takes a tshirt out of the closet.
"Holy shit dude! That's that famous restaurant with the kid chef!" He's shuffling into some sweatpants while Kirishima shouts at him from the living room.
"Kid chef?"
"He's like our age! And famous for owning a successful restaurant so young!"
"Where'd he get the money to open a restaurant?"
"His dad's the head chef of Endeavor!"
He finally makes his way back into the kitchen and starts pulling food out of the fridge for dinner. "Never heard of it."
Kirishima sputters. "You've never heard of Endeavor?"
Bakugo turns to him with a withering look.
"It's one of the top rated restaurants in New York! You have to schedule reservations years in advance!"
"Okay?"
"Dude! This place is huge! And they hired you! That's so cool!"
Bakugo focuses on prepping dinner and doesn't say anything. Working in restaurants is not exactly where he saw himself six months ago.
All in all working at Fire and Ice doesn't totally suck. Chef Shoto is pretty laidback for a restaurant owner but is still demanding and critical during dinner rushes. His coworkers don't suck at their jobs which makes his life a little easier; that and they're too scared of his temper to say shit about him being gay. He mostly ignores the servers except Uraraka who is inexplicably not scared of him like everyone else and all the bartenders are exceptionally good at what they do and hook him up at the end of each shift.
It's the pay check that really does it though. One week's pay covers his rent and that takes the biggest weight off his shoulders because he can finally save again. The hours aren't too far off from his old job so he and Kirishima keep up their daily routine with the exception of movie nights only on his days off.
Early August is still hot. Kirishima brings back his busted ac unit one afternoon and he's right it does work better than before. The apartment becomes an ice box, but Bakugo saves money now that he doesn't have to wash the sweat out of his sheets seven times a week.
It's nice to have a rhythm back in his life. Wake up, workout/see Kirishima, go to work, sleep, repeat. He starts dancing again every morning before his runs. The pole feels good beneath his hands. A nice sturdy fixture that he knows he can rest his weight on. Occasionally, he looks out the window and sees movement in Kirishima's window across the way, but at least even if Kirishima is watching him he's smart enough to hide it. Bakugo pretends to ignore it and they go about their routine like normal.
Things feel okay. But nothing lasts forever and before Bakugo knows it it's the end of August and he's going through his regular motions at the restaurant, prepping and chopping the food for the night, making sure the grill is clean and ready to go. The servers are walking in to start their shifts. Uraraka and some twink, Aoyama, are giggling excitedly about something.
"I wonder whose table he's going to sit at! Did you see him on that talent show? He was so cool!" He largely ignores them until he sees Uraraka freaking out three hours later. She's talking to Denki, another line cook in the station next to his, who's leaning his entire upper body over the pass. "Can you believe Izuku Midoriya is at my table?"
His back is turned to them but his whole body freezes at that name. Izuku Midoriya.
"Bakugo, I need that steak now." Shoto's calling to him but he can't hear it. "Bakugo." His voice is sharp and in is periphery Bakugo can see the other cooks starting to stare. Ojiro is leaning around to look at his face and nudging Denki to get his attention.
"Dude." Denki taps his shoulder. "You're going to burn it."
His knuckles are white from where they're gripping the spatula too tight. "What the fuck!" He yells and spins, fist just barely missing Denki's face. Koda visibly jumps and knocks the salad he was preparing onto the floor. In a matter of seconds Shoto is behind him pulling him into a submission hold.
"You need to go. Come back tomorrow and hope you still have a job." He doesn't even grab his stuff, just storms out the back entrance with the entire kitchens eye's on him.
He gets home on pure instinct and muscle memory, not even conscious of being on the train or walking through the park. He's walking into the apartment building just as Kirishima is walking out and he doesn't even see him until Kirishima is tapping his shoulder.
"Hey! You're home early! I got you something!" He's handing Bakugo a piece of paper and as his brain registers just what it says he's certain his life is one big cosmic joke. "I know how much you like dancing so I thought you might want to see this while it's in town! I was talking to Yaoyorozu about it at work yesterday and she said this guy is really good!"
He doesn't say a word. Just shoves the tickets back into Kirishima's chest and storms inside without sparing him a glance. In his room, he angrily strips down to nothing and sits in the tubs with shower streaming down on him so hot that the warmth of his tears feel cold on his cheeks. Later he lies down on his stomach with his face buried deep in a pillow and screams. He falls into a fitful sleep where he dreams that everywhere he turns Izuku Midoriya is there staring down at him.
The headache he has in the morning is worse than any hangover and he's nauseas. He gets up anyways because he can't sit around moping all day because of him. He swallows four ibuprofen stretches, and guzzles his coffee so fast it scalds his tongue. He doesn't dance that morning, he doesn't wait for Kirishima to go on their jog either. He's wearing those barely there rainbow shorts he hasn't worn once since Kirishima moved in and slowly making his way around the park looking for someone, anyone.
Fuck. He thinks when he hears footsteps and glances behind him to see Kirishima waving at him. "Hey! Bakugo!" He picks up his pace in an attempt to avoid the other man, but Kirishima catches up just like he did back then. "You left without me!" He whines.
"I wanted to run alone today."
"Oh?" He looks at Bakugo's shorts and then his face.
"Fuck off. Leave me alone."
Kirishima frowns. "Did I do something wrong?"
No is what he thinks, "Yeah, you're in the way of me getting dick." Is what he says.
Kirishima fights a laugh because yeah, the words coming out of Bakugo's mouth are funny, but the tone is biting and he knows something is seriously wrong and this isn't the time to laugh.
"Let me run with you."
"No."
"C'mon, you show me Stranger by the Lake and seriously expect me to be ok with this?" I'm worried about you is what he's really saying, but Bakugo doesn't care. He's angry and frustrated and he wants something, anything to get his mind off of him he will do just about anything. Even ruin the one solid relationship he has.
He pulls his arm back and punches Kirishima square in the jaw. Kirishima can take a hit. He blinks at Bakugo stunned and blocks his next punch, catches his fist and pulls him forward so that both arms are trapped in his grip and his bare chest is pressed against Kirishima's thin shirt where he can feel his tight muscles against his own.
"Dude, what's going on?" His tone is soft and he looks more hurt and confused than mad and maybe because this is his only opportunity to get what he wants out of this morning or maybe it's because Kirishima is there and he cares and he's hot and he knows now he's not going to scare him off so easy; he leans up and presses his mouth to Kirishima's. Kirishima doesn't move at first, but Bakugo presses against him hard and insistent, tongue and mouth and teeth all working against Kirishima's lips until he gives in and his grip loosens on Bakugo's arms so he can press his hands to his back and his hip. His mouth opens and he kisses Bakugo with the same intensity. They're stepping blindly off the trail, Bakugo pulling Kirishima into him as his back press into the rough bark of a tree. His hands find Kirishima's pecks and abs and hips and all the places he'd thought of touching while they worked out together but locked in the back of his mind.
Kirishima moves his mouth down his jaw to his neck and Bakugo can't help but moan out "Please. Don't stop." He hates how needy he sounds, but that's what he is. Kirishima breathes against his wet skin before making his way down his abs kissing every inch of skin he can find while lowering himself to his knees right there in the middle of the park, barely hidden in the trees.
Bakugo grabs Kirishima's hair as he blows him. Revels in the press of wide hands against his hips and thighs and ass. The pain he feels from his scraping against the tree is oddly pleasurable as he nears his breaking point. Kirishima swallows. They're both breathless and Bakugo watches Kirishima slowly stand, messy hair slowly falling out of his ponytail and lean against him tucking his head into the corner of Bakugo's neck and shoulder.
They stand like that for a while until Bakugo feels something wet running down his chest as Kirishima lets out a choked sob. "Dude, you're like, my only friend. Please. Please, don't let this ruin anything."
And just like that Kirishima has defused the walking bomb that is Katsuki Bakugo. He holds Kirishima in one arm and strokes his hair with the other. "It won't." He whispers.
Things go back to normal-ish. Bakugo still has a job when he returns to Fire and Ice. Nobody asks him about it and Denki forgives him on the condition that he buys him a beer every day for the next month.
He catches Kirishima watching him dance more openly and he doesn't get mad because he supposes he owes him that much. They still work out every day and hang out on their days off but something seems a little off now and Bakugo's chest hurts every time he catches sight of the bruise he made on Kirishima's cheek.
Kirishima takes to showing up right before the restaurant closes in the evenings to chat with the bartenders and distract Bakugo by sticking his head in the kitchen window and watching Bakugo break down his station. Uraraka teases that he has a fan. Ashido presses her boobs against the bar and complains that Kirishima's not picking up any of her hints until Aoyama pipes up "Oh, honey, he's gay." And then everyday its "Bakugo, when's your boyfriend coming in?", "Bakugo, who's the top and who's the bottom?", "Bakugo, when're you going to ask him out?" Only the last one is a valid question but at what cost?
He thinks he could seriously like Kirishima. He catches himself thinking about him and not just in a sexual way, he takes him into consideration when he buys food or goes out with his coworkers after work or when he makes plans on his days off. In the mornings he thinks about how nice it would be to wake up next to him and make him breakfast while Kirishima tells him about the dream he had last night. He thinks about ways he can make his apartment homier, but there's nothing he can do to make room for chairs or a table or anything really without sacrificing his pole.
He's got it bad and he's knows it, but despite seeing Kirishima every day he can't seem to find the right words that aren't just hey you blew me once and now I can't stop thinking about it, wanna go out on a date?
Instead he ends up waiting until they're out one night at the gay bar again. They're making their way home in an empty metro car, they're both buzzed but not drunk so he looks up at Kirishima from where his head rests on his shoulder, "Wanna make out?"
Kissing Kirishima is serendipity. They get so lost they almost miss their stop, and even though he knows he's not, Bakugo feels drunk smiling and holding Kirishima's hand. He looks at Kirishima's face one last time before they go to their separate apartments and he can't help but smile because everything is going to be just fine.
Things go on like that for a while. Making out on the empty metro home becomes a habit. They make out on Kirishima's couch during movie night. Kirishima's there every night when he gets off work to walk him to the metro and home and they hold hands in the park. They don't push to put a label on anything. They don't push to move faster than the speed they're at. Both just content with the way things have progressed.
It's almost three weeks after their first make out on the metro that Bakugo spends the night at Kirishima's for the first time. It's completely unintentional. They'd fallen asleep watching The Birdcage and he wakes up with Kirishima's head on his chest, legs tangled together. There's a jingling of keys and Tetsu Tetsu is stumbling in with some redhead and making a thumbs up at him as he passes. He plays with Kirishima's hair for an hour and drifts back to sleep.
When they wake up in the morning they're both sore so they stretch. Kirishima lends him a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt that are a little baggy but sit on his hips in a way that has Kirishima blushing and they follow their usual routine.
They're still covered in sweat when they get back to Bakugo's for breakfast. The ac rapidly cooling their skin.
"Can I use your shower?" Kirishima asks, lips against his ear while he hugs Bakugo from behind.
"Yeah, go for it."
Bakugo puts on a pot of coffee, picks out a song he's had stuck in his head since sometime last night, and grabs the pole with both his hands. He doesn't notice the shower turn off and when he opens his eyes to see Kirishima leaning in the doorway, eyes devouring him he realizes that may it's okay if it's Kirishima watching him. He stands up from where he spun to kneel on the ground and Kirishima is there in an instant, smelling like his shampoo. Bakugo feels the pole on his back, the hand at his hip. Kirishima kisses him likes he's starving, touches him like he'll lose him. There's a hand in his pants jacking him off against the pole in his living room.
"God, I'm so fucking gay for you."
He snorts and moans on the same exhale.
"You say that like you weren't gay when I met you."
Kirishima hums. "I don't think I was as gay then as I am now."
He laughs. It feels like it's been forever since he'd laughed but that's the power Kirishima has over him. He comes in Kirishima's hands moments later and Kirishima just smacks his ass and tells him he smells and to get in the shower.
He smiles as the water runs over him. He smiles when he steps out to Kirishima burning the eggs. He smiles while they sit on the counter thighs pressed together and his heart feels light. It's hard to admit even to himself, but he needed this and it's a relief to finally find it.
They make fun of him at work that night because in the two months Bakugo has worked there none of his coworkers have ever seen him smile.
"Oh, leave him alone!" Uraraka calls, dropping some plates in the dish pit. "It's nice to be in love!"
He doesn't even protest or jab back, just flips the steaks with a small smiles and hand chef Shoto the finished plates with satisfaction.
"Am I the only one that thinks this is fucking weird?" Kaminari pipes up as they're breaking things down at the end of the night. "He hasn't thrown anything at me once!"
Sero, Koda, Sato, and Ojiro all chime in with some variation of, "Yeah, it's fucking weird." Even Yaoyorozu comments while grabbing his beer.
"Are you okay, Bakugo?"
He's watching Kirishima sit in the middle of the bar having a heated conversation with Ashido and then turning to look at him and waving, smile widening.
"Yeah, never been better." He doesn't bother to elaborate, just sips his bottle and makes his way down to where Kirishima sits. Behind him he hears Aoyama say something along the lines of "Ah! To be young and in love!" before switching to French to gossip with Yaoyorozu.
"Come here often?" He says as he leans into Kirishima's space. Ashido giggles and picks up a rack of glasses to take to the back.
"Hmm. I don't think my boyfriend would like it if he saw you flirting with me." Kirishima sighs and grabs the hem of his shirt pulling him closer.
"Gross! Get a room!" Denki calls from the end of the bar.
They hold hands the whole way home and even though the unused muscles in Bakugo's face are starting to ache, he can't stop smiling. That is, until they get back to the apartment complex and he's pulling his mail out of the box sorting through the junk until he finds an envelope with no address or information, just his name in familiar sloppy handwriting and his heart sinks into his stomach.
"Everything alright?"
His palms are sweating and he opens his mouth to say yeah, everything is fine, but the words won't come and the world is spinning and next thing he knows he puking into the lobby trashcan with Kirishima's hand slowly rubbing his back.
It feels like he stands there for hours dry heaving but it's just a few painfully long minutes. He doesn't realize there's tears leaking from his eyes until he's pulled into the elevator with Kirishima and the other man is wiping the tears away with his thumb and in that moment he grabs Kirishima and sobs into his shoulder. They don't move, they don't speak. They miss his floor and the elevator moves onto the next floor it's being called to and when the doors open it's Kirishima who says with his arms still firmly wrapped around him "Sorry, do you mind taking another elevator? We're going to be a minute."
He wakes up with his head thudding, face pressed into Kirishima's armpit and limbs tangled together in his bed. He sits up and notices how puffy his face is as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Everything hurts as he makes his way to the kitchen and pulls out a cup for water. He sets up the French press and stares absently out the window.
He pours the coffee a few minutes later and notices the envelope. It sits on top of the rest of his mail tear stained and mocking him. He hesitates while opening it. Inside are two rectangular slips of paper and a letter. His gut twists and part of him wants to shove everything back into the envelope and put it under the burner until its ash, but he's matured enough over the last year to let old habits die and opens the folded up letter.
Kacchan, I really hope you can make it. This is my last show in the country for a while. I'm sorry about everything that happened. I feel like there's something we need to talk about.
"Yeah fucking right." He mutters. He feels sick again. He feels like crying, but the tears don't come. His head pounds from dehydration. He sips some more water and heads back to bed with his mug of coffee intending to curl back up into Kirishima.
Kirishima's already sitting up when he sits on the edge of the bed with his mug.
"Is everything okay?"
"No." It comes out easily because it's true.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
There's silence for a beat and much quieter than the first, "No."
"Bullshit." Kirishima moves to where he's sitting and wraps his arm around his waist and gently pulls Bakugo's back to his chest. "You know you can tell me anything." He whispers and runs a hand through his hair, gently stroking. "What has you this upset?"
"I'm perfectly fucking fine, shitty hair."
Kirishima laughs and leans so he's looking Bakugo in the eyes. He touches the swelling below his eyes. "This, does not look perfectly fucking fine."
He sighs and leans into Kirishima's touch. "It's a long story."
"I've got time."
Bakugo eyes him wearily then looks away to stare into his coffee. "Last year I was," he swallows his pride in his dry mouth. His stomach churns but he spits it out, "I was seeing this guy. We had known each other for years, but I didn't know he was gay up til then. I was working at this club, dancing."
"Plus Ultra?"
He swallows again. "Yeah. He came in every night and would watch me and we ended up dating. He was so weak and tiny then I thought," His hands tighten around the cup, "I thought he just enjoyed watching me, but then this talent competition was scouting in the area, and I went to try out." He's fucking shaking, the memory alone making his blood boil. "I didn't know that he had also tried out. They accused me of stealing his moves. Can you believe that? I didn't even know he'd started pole dancing and they accused me of stealing his moves!" His face is flushed and the tears are flowing again. "Point is he made it big. I didn't. The next time I saw him I decked him, lost my job, and now he has the nerve to send me tickets to his show so he can mock me."
"Wait, wait. Hold up. You're telling me you dated Izuku Midoriya? That the Izuku Midoriya stole your moves?"
He can't hold back the growl between his clenched teeth. "Don't fucking say his name. I fucking hate him."
"Wow. I just, I'm sorry. That's awful. I could never imagine."
"It's not something I like to talk about. Nobody believes that that ass wipe could ever do anything wrong and I'm just a ticking time bomb anyway. So like fuck me it's not like I ever wanted to do anything more with my life." Kirishima's hugging him tighter and leaning his head on his shoulder.
"I believe you. You're so talented. You deserve so much more." He really wants to believe him but the part of him that still remembers the talent scouts sealing his fate as a wannabe copycat knags at his brain.
No one at the restaurant will talk about Izuku Midoriya and his upcoming shows in front of him. Which would be fine if he couldn't tell when they had just been talking about him by the sudden silence every time they walk into the kitchen or when he walks out on the floor after a long night. He finds out that Uraraka has a crush on Midoriya and that chef Shoto has tickets purely from inference.
The days are getting colder and soon he and Kirishima are swapping sweaters about as often as they're swapping spit. He only touches his pole maybe three days a week and while Kirishima will never say anything he can tell he's worried on the days he skips.
"Hey so I was thinking," Kirishima starts over breakfast one morning. They're at Kirishima's again. Taking advantage of his four burner stove top and kitchen table for a proper breakfast. Bakugo has remembered to pack his glasses in his overnight bag and he sits reading the paper. "What are you going to do with those tickets?"
"I don't know. Sell them I guess?" He doesn't even look up. Just flips a page and continues to read.
"You don't want to see him?"
"No."
"Do you ever miss him?" it's quiet for a while and he sighs in response.
"Before everything, he was a good friend, and yeah, I miss having someone know me like that, but," he reaches across the table and takes Kirishima's hand looking him in the eyes. "If I had him I wouldn't be with you and even if all the hurt wasn't there, I wouldn't trade you for him." He pulls his hand back and looks back at his paper but not before he sees the little smile and look of relief on Kirishima's face.
Later that week they're walking to the train home from Fire and Ice when they see it. It's an advertisement for Midoriya's show that takes up a whole wall at the bottom of the escalators. Kirishima stares wide eyed with his arm looped in Bakugo's while Bakugo looks anywhere else with clenched fists.
"So that's him, huh?"
"Yep."
There's more posters in the train. He glares at his feet. The city is the last place he wants to be right now. He thinks about the money he made off selling the tickets this morning.
"Is it too late for you to get your shifts covered at work next week?"
"No, why?"
"Let's go somewhere."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
They hold each other the whole train ride not really needing to say anything. Just content to be together.
By the end of the week they have an Airbnb secured in some small coastal town up north. Chef Shoto doesn't even bat an eye when Bakugo informs him that he's leaving for a week.
They take the train up. Two hours huddled together with a pair of earbuds between them. The town is almost completely deserted save a handful of locals. The house they rent is solitary, on the edge of town surrounded by pines stretching high above the rooftop and a rocky coast at the rear. They grab their warmest sweaters and resolve to walk along the shore until the sun sets.
It's surreal how quiet it is even with the caw of gulls and crashing of waves. He stares out at the shore for a while until Kirishima starts speaking and he notices how hunched in on himself he is.
"This sort of reminds me of when I went to the beach with my family when I was fifteen." He looks so cold. Shoulders raised and hands deep in his jean pockets. "I'd never been to the beach before, and well I met this guy my age and we'd hang out every day. We were really close that whole week until one night I got home kind of late and my dad was wasted."
Bakugo can't tear his eyes from Kirishima's face and the tears forming in his eyes. "He started really laying in on me calling me 'fag' and making assumptions about what we were doing. I was so embarrassed I didn't go see him the next day. He came by the house while my folks were out and I didn't even answer, just ignored him until he left."
The tears make small trails down his face while he takes a fist and brushes them away. "I didn't even know I was…. gay then. I still can't stop wondering if I did something wrong?"
Bakugo stops and grabs his wrist in one hand and his cheek in the other. "You did nothing wrong."
"I just," Kirishima doesn't hold back the tears any longer. "I miss them so much sometimes." He leans into Bakugo's shoulder and cries. Bakugo doesn't ask, he doesn't need to. They all know a version of this story. Kirishima's tears leak through the loose fibers of his sweater, but he doesn't push him away. He holds him until the sky turns pink and the crying stops. He pulls back and plants a kiss on Kirishima's forehead and says, "Let's go home."
In the warmth of the cabin Kirishima mumbles a quiet, "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
Bakugo turns to face Kirishima still shucking his shoes off in the door way. "Eijiro, you have nothing to apologize for. Real men need to cry sometimes." He doesn't wait for Kirishima's response, just shuffles back to the bed room where he stands for a second and then loudly barks, "Oh, hell no!"
Kirishima's feet are quick against the floor boards. "What? What is it?" Turning the corner to see what Bakugo is upset about he starts giggling.
"Help me put these beds together. I swear to fuck this doesn't look anything like the pictures."
They spend the rest of the night cuddling and watching movies on Bakugo's laptop. His hands in Kirishima's hair and enjoying the feeling of his slow breathes on his chest. His eyes slip shut during the climax and when he wakes up a little while later Kirishima has moved the laptop off the bed and rolled to curl into his other side knees tucked up and wrapped around his thigh.
The rest of the week feels sort of like a honey moon. They stroll down the beach hand in hand, they tour the town, they make out in the sand under a sky full of stars. Bakugo likes the way Kirishima's hair feels slightly damp from the sea breeze. He likes how close they are at this moment. He likes it when Kirishima rambles and when he silently watches Bakugo cooking.
It's Thursday. The midway point of their little vacation and they're sitting on the back porch listening to Kate Bush and the sound of the ocean with a glass of red wine. It's even chillier at night and they're sitting under the comforter with their arms around each other.
"Mmm. This is nice." Kirishima hums.
"Yeah it really is." They've been sitting like that for a while but neither moves for at least a few more minutes, then Bakugo's untangling himself and standing. "I'm gonna go get another glass of wine, want anything?" He asks foot half in the door and leaning on the door frame.
"No. I'm fine."
He's standing at the counter mid pour when he hears the door creek open. "I thought you didn't need anything?" He calls.
Strong arms wrap around his waist and lips caress his shoulders and neck. He sets the bottle down and turns to meet Kirishima's lips with his own. "I need you." Kirishima's hands press into his hips and their torso's meet. The counter cuts into Bakugo's lower back but he doesn't break the kiss and before he can move or say anything Kirishima is moving his hands around back to his thighs and lifting him, sitting him on the counter and diving in deeper. "Katsuki, I want you." He whispers into his ear and Bakugo moans as Eijiro grinds his erection into his thigh.
Eijiro's lips are on his neck as he half turns to reach for the coconut oil in the cabinet behind him. Eijiro's unbuttoning Katsuki's pants with one hand and press into his back with the other, lips moving down his neck to his collar bone then back up to his jaw and finally his lips again. Katsuki can hardly manage getting the jar open, but there it is an open invitation on the counter next to them. With a little help, Eijiro pulls Katsuki's pants down to his knees and kisses his way down Katsuki's body, mouthing the defined muscles in his abdomen and the indents that lead to his crotch.
"Fuck." Katsuki moans. "I want you so bad." And for the first time their roles are reversed. Katsuki can't seem to keep his mouth shut while Eijiro silently works. Eijiro dips his hand in the oil and licks Katsuki at the same moment. He slowly works his fingers in and stretches Katsuki out while bobbing his head on his cock. Katsuki's breathes are heavy and his moans wanton. He'd forgotten what it was like to be like this with another person. Eijiro hits his G spot and Katsuki's whole body shudders. "Eijiro!"
Eijiro kisses the inside of his thighs while he rubs oil onto his cock. Katsuki pushes his head back with one hand so Eijiro is taking a steps back and he hops off the counter, takes the two steps over to the table and looks at Eijiro over his shoulder in a way that says come over here and fuck me now.
Eijiro wastes no time closing the distance and bending Katsuki over the table with a hand on his hip and the other guiding his cock into Katsuki. Katsuki shudders and moans and relaxes into the presence of the man behind him. The rhythm Eijiro sets rocks the table underneath him. His moans increase in volume and pitch as hands find their way into his hair and tug his head back. His back arches and his dick rubs painfully into the table, but every second is pure bliss.
"Katsuki." Eijiro moans. His voice the huskiest he's ever heard it. Eijiro's hand is still tugging him back by his hair as the other worms under his torso pulling his back into his chest. Lips find his neck again and fuck he's never been this vocal. His whole body shakes with his orgasm. Cum spurting out onto the table and when he's finally done and his muscles relax, Eijiro pulls out, jerks himself in his hand a few times and cums all over his lower back.
Despite the cum, Eijiro holds him in his arms and rests his head on Katsuki's shoulder. "Was that your first time?" Katsuki asks voice a little horse.
"Sorta." He hums into his neck.
"How was it?"
"Fuck." There's a kiss on his neck. "You are." Another. "Amazing." And in that moment Katsuki does feel amazing and he's smiling in a way that makes his untrained face hurt.
They shower and when Eijiro goes to grab the comforter from where they'd left it outside its damp from the ocean air. They pile on blankets and throw on sweaters, Katsuki opting to wear a pair of warm socks and they curl into each other in the beds they'd pushed together. Both of them wearing those smiles you only wear when you're perfectly content.
The train ride home feels even shorter than the one there, but maybe that's just what happens when you spend most of it napping on your boyfriend's shoulder.
Their last night they'd fucked again and Eijiro had looked up into his eyes from where he was sprawled on his back on the bed with a dick half in his ass and said, "I love you, Katsuki Bakugo."
And of course Katsuki being as eloquent as ever had said, "Fuck, I love you too, shitty hair." And then had promptly gone back to working his ass and cock until he was practically screaming Katsuki loud enough for their neighbors to hear them all the way back home.
The train comes to stop and Katsuki lifts his head effectively waking Eijiro who'd fallen asleep with his head resting atop Katsuki's. They go back to their positions on the metro home and in the park they look at each and smile those soft smiles lovers do when they don't need words to say what they're thinking.
In the foyer they kiss with Katsuki's hands in Eijiro's hair, still sticky from the salt air. "I'll see you later?" Eijiro asks when they finally pull away.
"Yeah." Katsuki smiles. "Dinner at my place?"
"Yeah." They lean in for another kiss. Their hands still tangled together when they pull back, not letting go until the last second.
Katsuki's glad no one is in the elevator to see him be a complete sap so he leans into the wall and smiles this wide smile that feels so foreign he worries his face will get stuck. It fades fast though when he sees the letter taped to his door with "Kacchan" written on it in familiar script. He tears it down and shoulders his way into his apartment, setting his stuff down and turning on his phone for the first time in a week.
He doesn't even open it. Just tosses it into the trash while his phone buzzes in the unfamiliar way of multiple messages coming through at once. He shucks his shoes off and makes a noise of disbelief as he grabs his phone to go sit on his bed.
The messages are all from Uraraka.
"I have something kind of important you need to know about" is the first one. Timed about the same time he'd gotten a bunch of missed calls all from her.
The next is a screen shot from a tabloid, "Unlikely couple? Things heat up between popular chef and world class dancer!" Underneath is a picture of chef Shoto leaned against a lamppost with none other than Izuku Midoriya's hand in his looking up at him and smiling.
And finally: "I didn't want you to come back and freak out."
He doesn't remember how to move. His whole body stiff and aching and he doesn't even know how to describe what he's feeling. Anger? Hurt? Betrayal? He doesn't move. He doesn't think. Just sitting there blank faced with his phone in his limp hand. He suddenly remembers how to use his legs when there's a knock at his door and he's standing up immediately. He feels oddly out of body. Like he's watching himself from above in third person moving across the apartment to the door and opening it. He's expecting Eijiro. It must be dinner time, right? But instead he hears a meek "Hey, Kacchan" as he answers the door and he's unaware that he's stopped breathing entirely until his legs buckle underneath him and he's weakly prying hands that burn like fire off his body while everything goes black.
His head feels fuzzy and full of static. It's the first thing he's aware of. The next is that there's a hand in his. His heart rate doesn't pick up. It's a numb acknowledgement. The sky is blue. Someone is holding his hand. It's Eijiro. He smiles a little at the familiar red hair and runs his free hand through it, absently noticing the IV sticking out of his wrist and getting caught in Eijiro's hair. Eijiro lifts his head. His face is puffy and red and even in his warm fuzzy state Katsuki knows that he doesn't like that.
"Katsuki!" Eijiro whispers urgently. "I'm so glad you're okay!"
Something clicks in the back of his head. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns "Where did Deku-?"
"I kicked him out." Eijiro cuts him off.
Katsuki smiles "You're the best." he hums.
Eijiro laughs. "Are you okay?"
"No." He says but he stills smiles as he looks at Eijiro, "But you're here so I'm fine."
Eijiro smiles, but the particular look on his face isn't completely lost on him. He's concerned. Katsuki squeezes his hand in a way that he knows is reassuring.
A few minutes later a nurse walks in to check his vitals and alerts the doctor that he's awake. The doctor is a tall, pale man with long black hair pulled back into a bun. "I'm doctor Aizawa, I'm a specialist here." He addresses Eijiro. "Your friend here had an acute panic attack and fainted. We've given him some anxiety medication for the time being and his vitals are fine. We can release him today and prescribe him some anxiety medication if you'll be here to help deliver him home."
His head still feels fuzzy when they discharge him and wheel him down to the taxi at the front door. He hates how fragile everyone is treating him, but he looks up to Eijiro who looks back with that sympathetic knowing look that keeps him calmer than the anxiety meds he's on.
Back in the apartment Eijiro finally asks "What happened?" Katsuki doesn't say anything just wordlessly retrieves his phone from where he'd left it and opens it to the texts from Uraraka without even looking at it and turns it back to Eijiro. "And then he just showed up?" Katsuki nods. He can't even look at Eijiro just falls into him and buries his face into his chest while Eijiro holds him and rubs up and down his back.
"Fuck." Eijiro's saying. "I shouldn't have gone home. I should have some back here with you."
"Eijiro, it's not your fault. He's always been a hard one to shake off."
"He shouldn't have come back here."
He hums in agreement and looks up into Eijiro's eyes. "Kiss me."
Eijiro complies. It's unlike any other time they've kissed. It's soft. Like they're exchanging unspoken words instead of kissing. Eijiro says I'm sorry I wasn't here. Katsuki's says I'm sorry I'm so fucked up and you're all caught up in this.
Eijiro orders pizza and they sit in Katsuki's bed getting crumbs in the sheets and watching some shitty Netflix movie neither of them had seen before. Katsuki falls asleep before it can end and Eijiro gets up to throw their trash out. And that's when he notices it. Sitting right on top of the fresh trash bag the letter marked Kacchan. He picks it up and notices how it hasn't been opened yet, folds it in half, and tucks it into his back pocket before taking his jeans off entirely and getting into bed next to Katsuki.
It's raining when Bakugo wakes up a full two hours before his alarm. He intentionally slips into Eijiro's jeans because he likes the way they sag on his hips and because he needs a little extra comfort today. He doesn't wake Eijiro, doesn't even put on a pot of coffee, he makes himself look just presentable enough and heads to the restaurant.
It's Monday, the day they get their vegetable delivery and he knows chef will be there to examine every root, leaf, and vegetable that enter his kitchen. He hangs around the kitchen with his hands in the front pockets of Eijiro's jeans while chef signs off on the delivery.
"What brings you in so early?"
"I'm quitting. Consider this my two weeks."
Chef Shoto looks up from box of beets on the prep table. "Do you have another job lined up?"
"I'll find another job."
Shoto sighs. "Stay until you find another job."
"No."
"Bakugo, who's going to hire you? Other than this place you have no practical experience."
"Tch. You're saying my reputation is really that bad."
Shoto at least has the decency to look away and lower his voice. "You have no references and I had at least three of my employees warned me about you the second you walked out of the interview."
Bakugo looks at his shoes and kicks the floor. This fucking sucks. It wasn't even my goddamn fault.
"Look, I've been in your shoes before. I've been angry and made a scene and damaged my own reputation, but dammit, Bakugo, you're good at what you do and an invaluable member of my team. Stay until you find another job at the very least."
Bakugo's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. He doesn't understand why chef Shoto is so willing to give him chance after chance, but Bakugo can't deny that he does kind of like it here. He likes seeing Eijiro sitting at the bar waiting for him at the end of the night. He likes laughing at Denki and Sero's dumb jokes. He even likes the stupid wait staff asking him way too many personal questions about his love life. He thinks that that's why Uraraka's text hurt so much. He wasn't so much jealous that Midoriya had moved on, but that he was stealing another aspect of his life out from under him.
He's been quiet so long that Shoto has started to move boxes into the walk-in. "Are things with you and him serious."
Shoto's cheeks burn bright pink. "Ah, um, it appears things are heading that way."
"Keep him away from me."
"I wish I could."
"Tell him I don't want to see him."
"When has that ever worked?"
Bakugo's shoulders are practically up at his ears and his fists clenched tight and he has to focus on his breathing and relaxing his muscles so as not to make an outburst.
"He doesn't know you work here."
"Good."
"I know this is hard for you. Why don't you take the day off and I'll consider it paid vacation."
"Why are you doing all this?"
"Like I said, I was angry once too. I decided to give you a chance before I met him and I want to see that through. And besides, I need a sous chef."
"You can't ask Denki?"
"No, I can't ask Kaminari." Bakugo snorts at that.
Eijiro is waiting for him with a pot of coffee when he gets home. He's sitting on the counter in just his boxers blowing the steam off his mug.
"Where'd you go?"
"The restaurant." He pours himself a cup in the Aries mug his mom got him when he moved out. Her little joke that he should have been born one day sooner. "What are you still doing here?"
"Well, somebody took my jeans, and all the warm pants here are just a little too tight." He hops off the counter to drape his arms around Katsuki and put his hands in the back pockets of said jeans.
"I'd have liked to of seen that." He hums and trails a hand over Eijiro's pecks. He leans up a little on his toes and kisses Eijiro.
"Katsuki, there's something I have to tell you." Eijiro says as they pull away. He pulls a hand out of one of the back pockets, holding a folded envelope. "I saw this in your trash last night and I wanted to make sure you really wanted to throw this away."
He groans and hides his face in Eijiro's chest. "That fucking asshole has to ruin everything."
Eijiro pulls his other hand out of the other pocket and wraps his arms around Katsuki. "I can put it back in the trash if you want." He whispers and rocks them side to side.
"No. I don't want to read it just yet. Just put it on the counter or something." He relaxes into Eijiro and closes his eyes while they gently rock. "I fucking love you or whatever." He leans up and kisses Eijiro again for a long moment.
"I love you too."
Fall melts into winter with no interruptions. Eijiro and Katsuki spend their workout sessions at the gym and at home with the pole, avoiding the cold winter breeze and icy paths of the park. Eijiro hardly goes back to his apartment these days. He occupies a draw in Katsuki's dresser and five hangers in the already cramped closet. He lets himself in with the spare key Katsuki has made for him and does their laundry together while Katsuki is at work because it "saves money".
Midoriya leaves again on tour, but it's obvious when Shoto slips away to talk to him at the end of the shift by his pink cheeks. He really does blush every time.
The week before Christmas they shut down the restaurant early for the holiday party. Bakugo is helping move chairs and tables out of the dance floor when Shoto waves him over.
"Midoriya is in town and I'm bring him to the party tonight."
"Guess I'll stay home then."
"No. You're coming." Bakugo's frown deepens. "I'll keep him occupied. Just please, come to the party."
He knows he doesn't have much of a choice between Eijiro and Shoto so he mumbles under his breath, "This is a really bad idea." Before shuffling off to grab his coat and clean up for the night.
At home he lies on his back in bed griping to Eijiro. "I don't even want to go to this stupid party. I don't even have anything to wear!"
"That's not true. You know you want to see your friends and look! I got us matching suits!" He looks up and sure enough Eijiro is standing there with a suit in each hand. They don't match exactly, but the under shirt and pocket square are the same color as the flowers on Katsuki's vest. Katsuki smiles at him.
"God, you're really fucking gay."
"Man, I sure hope so. What would I tell my boyfriend if I wasn't?" Eijiro hangs the suits back up and crawls over Katsuki, kissing him. Katsuki runs his hands over arms and chest and Eijiro's neck and into his hair. "Hey! You're going to mess it up!" He whines in between kisses.
They show up at the holiday party fashionably late. Most of the wait staff is half way to intoxicated. Almost everyone stands in small groups chatting and laughing save Denki, Uraraka, Ashido, Aoyama, and Hagakure who are all dancing. They make their way to the bar slowly amid friendly greetings. They take some shots with Yaomomo and Jiro and Katsuki sips his beer while Ashido drags Eijiro out to the dance floor. He watches them dance and smiles before scanning the room. Shoto keeps true to his word and stands at the other end of the room with Midoriya purposely standing with an arm over Midoriya's shoulder and their backs to him.
He turns back to watch Eijiro to find Denki in front of him.
"You're really going to let Ashido steal your boyfriend away like that?" He sees Eijiro smiling at him as he leads Ashido into a spin. "Do you even know how to dance?"
He shoves his half-finished beer into Denki's hands, places a hand on his shoulder and moves him out of his path. "Excuse me." He can hear Jiro giggling and poking at Kaminari behind him.
As Eijiro and Ashido pull apart to spin again, Katsuki grabs Eijiro's hand and pulls him into his body. They move and sway and spin and it's different from the first time they danced together. They anticipate each other's next move and Katsuki can't help but spare a glance to Denki with his jaw scraping the floor. When they pull apart almost an hour later for more drinks they're both sweating and smiling and Katsuki feels content with his arm around his boyfriend.
And then Aoyama says something very loud and very stupid directly within earshot of Katsuki with the full intent of causing drama.
"Wow! That Bakugo sure can dance! Don't you two know each other, Midoriya?" He hears the startup of a familiar stutter and turns to Eijiro suddenly pale.
"I'm going to get some air." He chugs his beer and steps out into the brisk winter air before anyone can blink.
He's watching the steam from his breathe dissipate in front of his face when Midoriya steps out to meet him.
"H-hey Kacchan, it's been a while." Katsuki doesn't say anything in response. He doesn't even look at Midoriya. "Did you-uh read the letter I left you?"
"Yeah."
"Do you think you'll call him?"
He sighs, "I don't know. I just opened it last week. I need some time to think about it."
"Oh! Uh, that's okay! I'll let him know it might be a while."
"I don't need your help, Deku."
"You never have, Kacchan."
"I don't need you looking down on me."
"I'm not-,"
"Just leave me alone, Deku." He moves to head back inside.
"Kacchan! Wait! I-I'm sorry! I don't look down on you. I really admire you. I always have and- I'm sorry if I took that too far. I-I didn't mean to ruin your chance. I-I didn't think-,"
"No, you didn't think." He still can't bring himself to look at Midoriya.
"Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?"
"I need some time."
He heads back into the party and makes a beeline for Eijiro. He turns his boyfriend around and plants a kiss on his mouth. "Can we go now?" He whispers into his ear. Eijiro glances down at his phone. It's nearly 1am.
"Yeah, let's go." They walk out to the taxi hand in hand. The first snowflakes of the season flutter down and melt in their hair. In the warmth of the taxi Eijiro pulls Katsuki closes and mumbles. "I was worried for a second there."
"What were you worried about?"
"You and Midoriya." He chuckles.
"Don't worry, he's still alive."
"Kaminari kept trying to joke that you guys were making out, out there."
"Oh? Did he?" Katsuki starts fiddling with his phone.
"Katsuki, what are you doing?"
"Changing all of Denki's shifts so he's on mopping duty every night next week." Eijiro laughs so hard he shakes Katsuki.
"You didn't!"
"I did. It's in my power as sous chef."
"I'm shocked. You're going surprisingly easy on him."
"No, I'm not." He yawns and leans further into Eijiro. "He hates mopping. He falls on his ass every single time. You should see it."
Eijiro hums, "I'm so proud of you, Katsuki."
That spring Katsuki falls into a new routine. He wakes up next to Eijiro in the apartment they live in together, they jog a new route in a new park, they lift weights at a new gym, he takes on new responsibilities at work, and on his days off he trains to be better pole dancer with his new instructor in another gym downtown. He meets Yagi Toshinori through Midoriya, and while part of him is a little unsettled that this is Midoriya's doing, he can't help but accept because All Might is one of the best dancers of his time and he really is helping him improve.
He goes home to Eijiro at the end of the day. Their apartment is much bigger than his old one. They eat at a table instead of sitting on the counter, they can fit both their wardrobes in the closet, there's a couch, and in the corner by the window is Katsuki's pole that he still uses every morning and occasionally at night when he's really trying to woo Eijiro.
Eijiro has made a pizza and subsequently a huge mess of the kitchen. They settle down on the couch together for a movie. Half way through My Beautiful Laundrette when Johnny is licking Omar's ear while his friends jeer behind him, Eijiro turns to him and says, "That's you."
"What? I'm Daniel Day-Lewis?"
"Yeah, you're Daniel Day-Lewis." He laughs.
Katsuki looks at Eijiro the same way he's looked him several thousand times since they met that summer and smiles because he's fine.