As he sat in the house with Bakugou, Kirishima tried to put a name to what he wanted, and found he could not.

They'd woken up cold, and Bakugou had just now gotten the fire going again. They both sat on the ground in front of it, blankets (and, in Kirishima's case, sealskin) around their shoulders like capes, hands outstretched in front of them to be closer to the flames. Bakugou was sleepy, wordless, apparently content just to sit there and enjoy the warmth.

Kirishima knew Bakugou was his human, his favorite human – his favorite person, period. He was entranced by Todoroki and Midoriya, of course, and glad he'd met them, but that appreciation was different than what he felt for Bakugou. He would rather be around one or both of them than be alone, but he had also noticed Bakugou acted differently when he was around them, smiling and talking less. After learning Bakugou's true feelings for Midoriya, Kirishima supposed that made sense, and of course Todoroki, quiet himself, was still mostly a stranger. There was a mutual distrust there – not animosity, just a sense that neither one of them understood or particularly liked the other. Kirishima felt lucky that Bakugou seemed to reserve certain expressions of his for Kirishima alone.

Kirishima realized he'd rather be with Bakugou only than have the four of them together if it meant a quieter, unhappier Bakugou. It surprised him to realize how much of a preference he had for this one person. It wasn't just that he'd met him first and gotten to know him before he'd known the others; if he had met them all at the same time, Kirishima felt he still would have chosen Bakugou over anyone else.

As the two of them sat side by side, warming their hands by the fire, Kirishima was struck by how much he did not know about Bakugou and about human life in general. He didn't know anything about human relationships. He knew the definitions of general terms, of course: some had selkie equivalents, like parents and children and siblings. He understood the concept of friends, and knew in a vague sense that that was probably what he and Bakugou were at the moment. He knew humans had marriages, calling themselves husbands and wives – but how that was different from the selkies' concept of mates, he didn't know. Nor did he know the process of getting there, or whether two males ever could.

"Spit it out," Bakugou said, and Kirishima jumped.

"What?"

"You look like you're thinking really hard about something. You should just say it."

Kirishima looked at him. Bakugou had a funny little half-smile on his face, curious and teasing all at once. Kirishima wondered what his own face looked like at that moment. He debated whether or not to tell Bakugou what he'd been thinking about, but after a moment he decided against it. It was better, Kirishima felt, to find out a different way, from one of the others. He couldn't say precisely why he felt this, but there was a risk Bakugou would find out why he was asking those things, and laugh at him, or, worse, be repulsed by him. This idea made Kirishima's stomach twist with displeasure.

Ever since his conversation with Bakugou about Midoriya – the one just before he'd swum away – he'd pictured Bakugou talking about him that way. I can't believe you thought he was special to me… Not at all. Exactly the opposite. While Kirishima knew Bakugou viewed him favorably now, he had no idea how quickly that could change. If Kirishima followed Bakugou around too much, if he demanded too much of his time or did something that struck Bakugou as pathetic, would his positive opinion of Kirishima turn negative?

So Kirishima decided it was best to keep a little of himself hidden for the time being, at least until he found out more information. He wasn't sure how much of his affection he could reveal – apparently he hadn't crossed that threshold yet – but the fact remained that now Kirishima knew Bakugou had the capacity for hate, and he had to be a little more careful because of it.

"It's nothing," Kirishima said aloud. "Don't worry about it."

Bakugou made a snort, turned back to the fire, and said nothing more.

xxxxxx

Out of the two of them, Kirishima decided to ask Midoriya his questions about human behavior. It wasn't anything against Todoroki, just that he knew Midoriya would talk more and probably be more willing to do it.

Although, of course, that also raised the question of when to do it. He had begun thinking of ways to get Midoriya alone without Bakugou realizing it, which would be difficult; he and Bakugou spent almost every waking moment together. He got a lucky break later that day, though, when Bakugou, nearly falling asleep on his feet, decided to take a nap.

"It got too cold last night," he said. "I couldn't sleep."

"It's fine," Kirishima reassured him, and made sure Bakugou was actually asleep before finding Midoriya. He didn't want Bakugou to suddenly change his mind and overhear and make the whole thing pointless.

He found both of the other boys in Midoriya's house, slicing vegetables. "Midoriya," he said, as soon as he entered. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he said, not moving from his place in the kitchen.

Kirishima hesitated a moment, looking between the two of them; as he turned his gaze to Todoroki, their eyes met, but Kirishima looked away after a second. There was no reason not to ask them both, he reasoned. He didn't distrust Todoroki, who'd confided a very interesting secret in him anyway.

"I've been curious about humans lately," Kirishima said, sitting down on a chair and watching their quick, deft movements, listening to the steady chop-chop-chop of knives through vegetable matter. "Back when we were living by the ocean, I told Bakugou a lot about selkies, but he didn't tell me nearly as much about humans."

"Why don't you ask him now?" Midoriya said.

Kirishima looked at him, then looked away. "I don't…" I don't want him to think of me the way he thinks of you – that was what he meant, but he didn't know how to phrase it so he didn't offend Midoriya. "I don't want to annoy him," Kirishima eventually settled on.

"I don't think you'll annoy him," Midoriya said. "But I don't mind answering your questions!"

"And I can tell you about selkies, if you want."

Midoriya shot him a grin before looking down at the cutting board again. "You know I do."

That was how Kirishima learned about human society. He first asked about the things that were bothering him most urgently, namely romance and courtship and marriage, but he was intrigued enough to keep asking questions even after his initial ones were all answered. He learned about human families, how couples stayed together much longer than selkie couples did, and children lived at home much longer than was strictly necessary for survival. It all sounded… nice.

"Instead of a man and a woman, can two men be a couple?" Kirishima asked, once he'd worked up the courage. He knew the question was probably giving a lot away, but he trusted Midoriya and Todoroki not to use that information against him.

"No," Midoriya said, at the same instant Todoroki said "Yes."

They turned to look at each other.

"It can happen," Todoroki said, after a pause. It was the first time he'd spoken up that conversation. "It's not common, but I've seen it."

"Oh," Midoriya said, looking first surprised, then thoughtful.

"And it's – you have to be careful," Todoroki went on. "Because, while some people don't care, others do. Most do. It's not generally done, and it's safer to keep it a secret. Most people like that pretend to be two friends living together, instead of a couple."

"Why do people care?" Kirishima asked.

Todoroki shrugged and said "I don't know" in a way that suggested the answer was complicated, too many words to explain without going into something much beyond the casual scope of the conversation. Kirishima understood that well enough and left it alone. There were things like this for selkies, too, after all – things that just weren't done, not for any real logical reason, but just because selkies decided a long time ago that it was better that way.

Kirishima knew about sex, because although he'd never had it, having never had a mate before, he still knew the mechanics of it; although they gave birth in their seal form, selkies mated in their human form, so the way they had sex was probably similar to how humans did it. So when Kirishima asked "What do human couples do – physically?" that wasn't what he meant, although it was funny to watch Midoriya turn beet-red and sputter something incoherent in reply.

Kirishima let him suffer for a second or two before interrupting him with a shake of his head. "No, I don't mean sex," he said, and Midoriya made another little noise at the word. "I mean, is it normal for them to touch each other more than friends do? Is it common for them to sleep in the same bed?"

"Oh," Midoriya said, breathlessly relieved, "oh, I see what you mean." Next to him, Todoroki was smirking. Both of them had set their knives down, the chore forgotten. "Yes! Yes, human couples do those sorts of things commonly. Holding hands, kissing, sleeping in the same bed, one person putting an arm around the other when they sit side by side… those sorts of casual touches are all common for couples."

Kirishima nodded, pleased with this information. It made a little more sense now, his desire to touch Bakugou. He was glad that sort of physical contact was common for human couples. It was for selkie couples too – except kissing, which was much more of a human thing – but only between established mates, a relationship that rarely lasted more than a season. The idea that human couples stayed together for years and continued all those behaviors made him happy to hear.

"What is it like for selkies?" Midoriya asked, and Kirishima found himself explaining all of this to the two of them. Midoriya was interested, as Kirishima knew he'd be, but to his surprise Todoroki also watched and listened carefully, never taking his eyes off Kirishima's face as he spoke. Midoriya interrupted sometimes with additional questions, but Todoroki stayed silent, face impassive and unreadable.

They'd been together in the house for maybe an hour, no more than two, when the door swung open and Bakugou entered. "Have you seen –" he began, and stopped when he saw the three of them together. Midoriya picked up his knife and began chopping again.

"Oh hi," Kirishima said, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

Bakugou grunted. He had a line on his face from the pillow, and Kirishima found he had the strange impulse to run his hand across it and feel the impression in Bakugou's skin.

"What are you three chatting about?" Bakugou said, sitting heavily on one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

"I was just telling them about selkie life," Kirishima said, glad he didn't have to lie.

"It's very interesting," Midoriya said, his eyes focused on the vegetables in front of him. Chop-chop-chop went the knife again, as if Midoriya had never paused in his task. "Until I met Kirishima, I never even knew selkies existed. I'm glad I get to learn all about them."

He lifted his head and smiled and Kirishima, and Kirishima smiled back. The nice thing about Midoriya – something that was also true about Bakugou – was that he was a terrible liar. From the short time he'd known Midoriya, Kirishima had learned that while he did lie, it was usually pretty easy to see through. And he really did find Kirishima's stories about selkies and selkie life interesting, which made Kirishima instantly more at ease around him. Todoroki, though, was more or less unreadable, although it was probably a good sign that he'd found Kirishima's words more interesting than chopping vegetables.

"I see," Bakugou said. He sounded grumpy, but the words were free of bite.

"But now that you're awake," Kirishima said, rising from the chair, "we can do something together. Will you come with me to the river?"

"Yeah, sure," Bakugou said, getting to his feet as well, and following Kirishima out of the house.

Kirishima wasn't exactly sure why he'd chosen to go to the river. He felt at home in the water, of course, and enjoyed swimming, no matter which form he was in. But Bakugou would not (could not) swim with him. Really, there was no need for Bakugou to be there besides Kirishima's desire to be close to him.

Bakugou didn't question it, though. He sat down on the riverbank, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands. Kirishima stripped off his clothing and laid them next to Bakugou, then, after a moment's thought, laid his sealskin down too.

He stepped into the water, feeling the cold more acutely in his human form but still liking it. The riverbank was steep; one could not wade in slowly as in the ocean. Even at its shallowest point it was up to his hips, and the shock of the temperature change sent a thrill through his body.

"How are you not freezing?" Bakugou asked, frowning.

"It feels nice!"

"I don't believe you," Bakugou said. "Weirdo."

Kirishima stuck his tongue out at him, then slid beneath the water. Human-form swimming was clumsier than seal-form, of course, and he had less practice at it, but it was still enjoyable. When he let the current take him away, it took effort to swim back; he got tired more quickly.

When he was ready to get out, Bakugou offered him his arm and helped hoist him out of the water. Kirishima narrowly missed landing on his clothing and on Bakugou, and lay, laughing and shivering a little, on the bank. "Don't drip on me," Bakugou growled, and Kirishima was tempted to do just that, but resisted. The point of this was to not drive Bakugou away, after all.

Kirishima lay on his back, letting the sun and the wind dry his skin. Bakugou was still facing the direction of the river, but Kirishima noticed he'd turned his head slightly; he was focusing on Kirishima in his peripheral vision. Kirishima ran through a series of questions he wanted to ask but didn't have the courage to. Do you like being around me? How long do you think you'll want to stay with me? Most frighteningly – Do you feel for me what I feel for you?

If he had been alone, he might have fallen asleep there on the grass in the sun, but, as it was, he was constantly aware of Bakugou's proximity to him. Kirishima's head was not far from Bakugou's thigh, and if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch the other boy.

He did want to.

So, in a way he knew was incredibly unsubtle – yet he could think of no better plan – Kirishima yawned deeply and stretched his arms above his head. Bakugou was still leaning back with his weight on his hands, which were behind him in the grass; Kirishima's arm came up very near one of them, near enough that their hands were almost touching. And then Kirishima, in a moment of braveness that made his heart beat wildly in his chest, reached his hand a little further and let it rest on Bakugou's, the backs of their hands brushing gently.

Bakugou turned his head to stare. Kirishima knew he looked probably quite odd: his arms stretched out over his head, the skin and muscles on his chest pulled taut by the position he lay in, his body naked (although Bakugou was surely used to it by now). But it was the point of contact that Bakugou turned to stare at, the place where their hands were ever so gently connected, the cold of Kirishima's skin and the sunny warmth of Bakugou's.

Bakugou looked at their hands, and didn't move. His eyes slid down, down Kirishima's outstretched arm, until they rested on his face. He gazed into Kirishima's eyes, and Kirishima gazed into his.

That moment was the most frightening and intimate of Kirishima's life. The way Bakugou turned, the way he met Kirishima's eyes: Kirishima was instantly aware that Bakugou knew everything. Kirishima's intentions were laid bare; Bakugou had instantly seen through his pitiful attempt to be casual.

Kirishima felt the entire world narrow to just them – just their points of contact, really: hand meeting hand and eyes meeting eyes. He was hyperaware of his heart, beating so loudly it was all he heard. And he felt Bakugou extract his hand from beneath Kirishima's – and place it, gently, on top.

Without even meaning to, Kirishima had asked a question, and instantly he knew this was his answer. He felt his face flush, his throat tightening with joy. Thrumming with energy, unable to stay lying down any longer, Kirishima sat up, crossing his legs and facing Bakugou. As soon as they weren't touching any longer, Bakugou lifted his hands and put them in his lap, shifting to face Kirishima as well.

"Bakugou," Kirishima breathed. He didn't know his body could contain so much nervous energy. He felt he could jump out of his skin.

Bakugou said nothing, but their eyes were locked again, and Kirishima could see the intensity he felt mirrored in the other boy's face. Bakugou's eyes were dark, the irises almost completely swallowed by the pupils.

Then Kirishima finally worked up the courage to ask the question he'd wanted to ask almost since there first day on the beach together: "Can I touch you?"

At that, Bakugou colored completely crimson, not just his face but neck and chest too, and turned his head to the side, muttering something Kirishima didn't catch.

"What did you say?"

"I said, if you want," Bakugou said, his tone a valiant attempt at anger that, Kirishima knew, was really just embarrassment and surprise.

Kirishima did want. He wanted very much. He only allowed himself to be paralyzed for a moment; then he willed his body to work, and it stuttered back to life. There was so much of Bakugou he wanted to touch, and he'd finally gotten permission.

First he brought a hand up to Bakugou's face, which was, of course, the best part; Bakugou was beautifully expressive, and his skin looked so soft. Kirishima rested his palm on Bakugou's cheek. Bakugou didn't shut his eyes; the continued eye contact made everything that much more intense. Kirishima knew Bakugou was watching him, was giving him the entirety of his attention.

Kirishima slid his hand further and ruffled through his hair. It was getting long, and the fine strands were tangled somewhat by the wind, but Kirishima kept his touch gentle so as not to pull. Then he brought his hand down, along the side of Bakugou's neck, to rest at the place where neck met shoulder. He could actually feel Bakugou's pulse here, going just as fast as Kirishima's own.

To touch with a hand wasn't enough: Kirishima leaned forward where he sat and pressed his face to the skin of Bakugou's throat, inhaling. The smell was so good it made him dizzy – nothing but Bakugou, pure and concentrated: human, earthy and musky and warm, the best thing Kirishima had ever smelled.

"Bakugou," he murmured, feeling the warmth of his own breath echoing back against Bakugou's skin, feeling the boy shiver beneath him and press himself up towards the contact, an unspoken plea for more.

It was almost too much, and for a moment Kirishima couldn't move. Then he felt Bakugou's hand, gentle on the back of his neck, leading, pulling his head up. Kirishima mourned the loss of the physical closeness for only a second, because then Bakugou was guiding their faces together. Kirishima closed his eyes at the last second, and then their lips touched: it was soft, almost polite. A kiss, Kirishima thought, simultaneously out of his mind with excitement and overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that was occurring.

After the kiss, they both moved their faces apart. Kirishima opened his eyes: Bakugou's gaze was focused intently on his face, looking it up and down. He's nervous, Kirishima thought, startled that he hadn't made the realization earlier. It gave him courage. Maybe he wasn't the only one making his way through completely new territory here.

Not sure how he'd felt about the first kiss, Kirishima decided to do it again. He put his hand on the back of Bakugou's neck the same way Bakugou had done to his, and this time he was the one to pull them together; but he pulled too hard, or moved his own head too fast, and their mouths bumped painfully.

Bakugou made a hiss of surprise, and Kirishima pulled back, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Bakugou said, his cheeks still flushed, his lips parted slightly, and it was enough of an invitation for Kirishima to lean forward – more slowly this time, without a hand on Bakugou's neck – and try again. It worked better, although at first the angle was awkward, the kiss a little dry. Then Bakugou did something with his mouth that felt good, and Kirishima did the same thing, and all of a sudden the entire thing felt more natural, like they'd figured out how it was supposed to be done. Kirishima realized that not only was he smelling Bakugou, he was tasting him too. The thought made his body grow suddenly much warmer than could be explained by the temperature of the air.

Kirishima broke apart from the kiss after a minute or so. Bakugou wanted to keep the kiss going, Kirishima thought, but his own curiosity was not yet satisfied. Kissing was nice, of course, but he didn't want to focus too much on just Bakugou's mouth when there was so much more of him to explore.

He started with the rest of Bakugou's face, putting his nose and mouth right up against the skin and breathing in, planting tiny delicate kisses on the skin of Bakugou's cheeks, his jawline, his throat. Bakugou's skin was hot and smooth, and Kirishima worked his way down his neck, noticing for the first time the different textures – the convex shape of his Adam's apple, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Bakugou was wearing clothing, unfortunately, which stopped Kirishima from going any lower. His hands came up to work at the buttons, when all of a sudden he felt Bakugou grip him by the wrists, holding him fast.

Kirishima pulled away, questioning, and their eyes met again. Bakugou looked… well, he looked flushed still, and he was breathing fast, but his eyes were open wide as if in surprise. He looked – alarmed?

"Should I stop?" Kirishima asked, heart in his throat.

Bakugou took several slow, deep breaths, like he was trying to calm himself down. "I don't know," he said, turning his gaze down and to the side. His voice was so quiet as to be almost inaudible – would have been, in fact, except for how close Kirishima was still sitting. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Me neither," Kirishima said, although he knew it was probably obvious. "But I like it. I've wanted to do this for so long."

"Idiot," Bakugou said, in that grumbly, affectionate way Kirishima loved. "How can you say things like that out loud?"

"Should I not?"

"No – it's – I just don't understand how you don't feel embarrassed."

"I don't know how you do," Kirishima said, grinning now that he knew Bakugou's hesitation didn't mean displeasure. "What is there to be embarrassed about?"

That seemed to render Bakugou wordless. He shook his head, eyes shut, and then reached forward to pull Kirishima close, burying his face in Kirishima's bare shoulder.

They held each other like that for a while, Kirishima's fluttering heartbeat slowing down gradually as time passed. He wanted everything all at once, but he forced himself to remain still. There would be time enough for everything. It was fine to rest here in the sun with Bakugou, and savor the shape of his body, warm and solid in Kirishima's arms.