“Take off that stupid fucking sweatshirt.” Bakugou growled between kisses, pulling on the hem of Kirishima’s top to help coax it over his head.
Kirishima pulled away from the kiss to frown, looking down at his own chest and then back up to Bakugou indignantly, “You hate this one too ? It’s mostly black!”
The aforementioned black sweatshirt had “Megadeth” written across the front, but was otherwise very plain. It was one of Kirishima’s favourite tops, and he’d thought that Bakugou liked it too.
He’d specifically worn something that wasn’t tiger print—or shark print, for that matter—when he’d dragged Bakugou to his room, since Bakugou had made it abundantly clear that if he ever saw Kirishima in animal prints again, he would absolutely refuse to kiss him.
Bakugou made a noncommittal noise, quickly losing interest in Kirishima's clothes. He clearly just wanted them off . He leaned over to kiss Kirishima and distract him from his indignance.
They had been trying to study for an hour after class before Kirishima just couldn’t focus anymore. And when Kirishima couldn’t focus, he couldn’t help but distract Bakugou too. He really didn’t mean to. Most of the time he didn’t even want to, because Bakugou was adorable when he was working, but sometimes being adorable came at a cost.
The cost being Kirishima’s complete lack of self control.
Not that either of them minded that.
Now, Bakugou was straddling Kirishima’s hips, aggressively trying to get him into any state of undress he could manage. Their homework was tossed aside, papers fluttering to the floor till they were strewn about, entirely forgotten.
In fact, Kirishima had forgotten nearly everything in the haze of kisses and touches, until Bakugou had started talking.
Bakugou’s hands kept tugging at the sweatshirt until Kirishima relented and let it be pulled over his head and tossed aside carelessly. They barely had time for their lips to meet again before Bakugou’s hands were yanking Kirishima’s shirt over his head, too. As soon as skin was exposed, Bakugou was attentive to it, his lips trailing along Kirishima’s shoulder and up his neck while his hands explored Kirishima’s chest and stomach, fingers passing over the underside of his naval, ready to tug at his boxers and do unspeakable things.
In public, everything about Bakugou screamed aggression. But here, Kirishima was allowed to see past that. He was shown sides of Bakugou that he was sure Bakugou had never let anyone see before, and he loved it.
He loved Bakugou’s desperation. His gasps when he felt Kirishima’s teeth graze his neck, his shamelessness when he crawled over Kirishima’s body and smirked down at him. The look in his eyes, like whatever they’re doing is the only important thing in the world and they’re sure as fuck going to do it right.
But most of all, Kirishima loved the underlying softness of everything Bakugou did to him, the hesitation. Kirishima wasn't even sure anyone else would notice the nuances, but he did. Bakugou never used his words properly, but he always asked Kirishima with his hands and his expressions if he was okay, and made sure he didn’t take anything too far.
Despite Bakugou’s eagerness and needy whines, Kirishima could still sense hesitation sometimes.
Kirishima held back small groans as Bakugou left biting kisses along his neck and jaw before capturing his lips again in a deep, long kiss. God, Kirishima could do this forever. His hands tightened on Bakugou’s waist, pulling him closer to press their lips together more roughly.
Bakugou made a small desperate noise of appreciation into Kirishima’s mouth, and Kirishima thought that he would never hear anything more gorgeous than that in his life.
“Oi! Kirishima!” There was a loud knock on the door, and Kirishima jumped so hard that he almost threw Bakugou off of him. The voice was Kaminari’s, and Bakugou looked downright murderous as he glared at the door.
Kirishima wanted to laugh despite the situation and its stakes, and so he stifled his giggle as he called to Kaminari, "What happened?"
"I need your help!" Came the pathetic whine from beyond the door. At least he hadn't just barged in this time, so that was a win.
As soon as he heard the tone of Kaminari's voice, Bakugou was growling in annoyance. Kirishima moved to place hands on Bakugou’s chest without a second thought, gently barring him from advancing on the door. Bakugou glared, but Kirishima could feel some of the tension release from the air.
“Let me deal with him,” Kirishima said, levelling a look at Bakugou. Be nice, don’t blow up the dorms, please.
Bakugou growled out a warning that Kirishima took as ‘hurry up and get rid of pikachu, now then, motherfucker.’
Kirishima nodded and got up quickly, pulling the door open a crack, obstructing Kaminari’s view of the room with his body. “What’s up?” He asked, trying to keep his voice nonchalant, devoid of the breathlessness it had been caught up in just seconds ago.
Kaminari grinned at Kirishima, holding out controllers in his direction, “Super smash—”
Kirishima hadn’t noticed Bakugou approaching until the blond thrust his hand to the door, slamming it in Kaminari’s face. Kirishima let out an open-mouthed incredulous noise, which Bakugou swallowed, pinning him to the door roughly and kissing him, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.
Denki’s knocks went unheard, the little bangs of wood thrumming into Kirishima’s back. Red Riot didn't notice, the only thing he was aware of was Bakugou’s lips.
Kirishima came back to the present when Kaminari called his name again. He pushed Bakugou away a few inches, breaking the kiss and giving him a warning look. Their situation was precarious. Kaminari couldn’t catch wind of what they were doing— a suspicious Denki will go to great lengths to find out what he needs to.
“He can’t know,” Kirishima hissed as Bakugou moved closer again.
Bakugou looked like he was debating continuing anyways, but then he cursed in frustration when he realized that Kirishima was right.
“Is Bakugou there?” Kaminari asked, odd curiosity plaguing him, voice muffled by the mahogany at Kirishima’s back. They both sprung away from the door.
“Uh, no?” Kirishima said. Then he rushed to add, “Why would he be here?”
“Because I heard cursing?” Kaminari returned, with a lighthearted laugh.
Kirishima hesitated. Bakugou watched him, brows creased. Finally, he said, “Err… I’m playing Pac Man, and I died.”
Bakugou looked like he wanted to choke on his laughter. Kirishima prayed that Kaminari bought it.
“Can I play?” Came a cheerful voice from beyond the door. Bakugou swore again, trying to stifle his own laughter, to no avail. Kaminari was such an idiot.
As much as Kirishima hated to have to shush Bakugou’s rare laugh, they couldn’t be found out. He put a hand over Bakugou’s mouth to shut him up, which was promptly knocked aside with a glare. Bakugou was quiet now, though, laughter in his eyes instead of burbling through his lips.
“Uh, no I actually really need to study, I was just—ah—taking a break?” Kirishima’s voice was unconvincing; he knew it, but he couldn’t help being a shitty liar. He always had been.
Luckily, Kaminari either believed him or just understood that he wanted to be left alone. Kirishima didn’t care which as they heard a grumbled “fine, be that way” and then footsteps walking away from the door.
They waited for the footsteps to be far enough away before daring to move. Kirishima was expecting Bakugou to keep kissing him, and almost whined when, instead, the blond stepped away. Bakugou stretched his arms over his head in an arch of his forelimbs, cracking the kinks out of his neck, then shot Kirishima a feral grin.
“Well that was fun,” He commented offhandedly, and Kirishima wanted to die . His cheeks heated, and he was glad that Bakugou had already turned to start picking up the papers off the floor, instead of witnessing his blushing.
After composing himself a moment, he laughed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I think your idea of fun differs a bit from mine.”
Bakugou stood up straight and fixed his piercing gaze on Kirishima, seeing right through him. He smirked, “I don’t think that’s true.”
Kirishima floundered for a response, but before he could come up with one, Bakugou was already on the other side of the bed, shoving his books into his bag, hastily enough for Kirishima to find it hard to keep track of what he was putting in.
“Where are you going?” Kirishima glanced down at his phone to check the time. It was still really early; usually Bakugou didn’t leave for another few hours when they were studying.
Bakugou shouldered his bag, shrugging, “You go hang out with Pikachu. I know you need a break before you can focus again, but I don’t. Our exams are soon.” He walked past Kirishima towards the door, but Kirishima caught him by the wrist.
“I don’t really mean to distract you, you know.” Kirishima said, pulling on Bakugou to bring him in, and placing hands on the blond’s waist to keep him close.
“Could have fooled me.” Bakugou said flatly, and Kirishima laughed, muttering an abashed apology.
And then Bakugou offered him one of his signature scowl-slash-smirks, his eyebrows twisted haughtily, “Finish your homework.”
“I will check,” he said, voice austere.
Kirishima let out a groan, but he couldn’t help his smile.
“See you later,” Bakugou said, shortly, and left his room. Kirishima blinked at his retreating back, at a loss off what to do. The door opens, closes. Bakugou was gone.
Kirishima flopped onto his bed, pushing his hand through his hair—the same way that Bakugou had been a few short moments ago. He stared at his ceiling blankly.
He still wasn’t really sure about what they were doing together. It was all a blur—a random, rushed blur. It’d started when they were studying. He finally got that one stupid ass trigo question right, and in a bout of elation, he’d whooped and grabbed Bakugou’s collar. He’d kissed him with the fervor of happiness and celebration, hands demanding—
And then pulled away, as if realizing what he’d done.
But then Bakugou leaned in, again, returning the kiss with the same intensity. Since then, they just went along with it. They stole kisses after lunch, in the hallway. Kirishima tugged him into a bathroom stall after a spar. Bakugou pinned him to his Crimson Riot poster and devoured him. Kirishima returned the favor in the pantry, when everyone was asleep.
They didn’t talk about any of it, obviously—yet Kirishima really wanted to put a name on what they had. But, being the coward he was, he just went with the flow, light and breezy. Which also meant there was probably no meaning to what they were doing. He tried to pretend he didn’t want more, that this was enough, but it was getting harder every day.
Kirishima sighed, pulling out his phone. He opened up his Direct with Kaminari, feeling slightly bad that he’d called him off. ( Slammed the door on him, actually . He winced when he thought too much about it. Poor, oblivious Kaminari.) He told the electric blond that he’d love to meet him.
But later , he added in the text. I gotta finish Aizawa’s homework .
Kaminari replied with a simple: K .
And then Kirishima added, Lets play pacman, tho.
Imma fucking destroy your bloodline.
Kirishima laughed, shaking his head and getting up to finish his homework.
Kirishima had stayed up with Kaminari gaming until 3 in the morning, so he wasn’t surprised when he woke up at nearly noon the next day. It wasn’t a gym day, so he hadn’t set an alarm—why not let himself sleep in?
He woke up to a series of texts from his group chat with Kaminari, Mina, and Sero. 53 notifications. No way he was looking at all of those.
He deleted the chat notifications, only reading the most recent text from Mina that triumphantly stated Mineta wasn’t in the common room, so she would be finishing her homework there if anyone wanted to join her.
That didn’t sound like a bad way to spend his Saturday afternoon, so Kirishima got up and searched his floor for some clothes to throw on quickly. Sweats, t-shirts, training clothes… He sifted through the mess, frowning.
He couldn’t find the black sweatshirt that he’d been wearing yesterday.
That was his favourite sweatshirt, how had he lost it? It should be on the top of the mess... He threw clothes and books around, searching every inch of his room.
It wasn’t there.
Shit , he would never be allowed in Bakugou’s room ever again. That was the only non-patterned top he owned, the only one Bakugou grudgingly accepted.
Goodbye to makeout sessions.
They were good while they lasted.
That’s pretty dramatic , he told himself, and then almost laughed at how stupid he sounded arguing with himself about a dumb sweatshirt.
Logically he knew that Bakugou would kiss him regardless of what he was wearing, but the back of his mind (that traitor) still wanted to work to impress the blond.
So where had the sweatshirt gone…?
He searched his room over one more time and again, no luck. It couldn’t have left his room, could it? He had kept the window open last night, maybe a bird took it? Maybe the wind blew it away? Maybe someone came in through the window and took it?
Kirishima closed the window, just to be sure nothing else would go missing.
Throwing a brightly patterned shirt over his head, Kirishima didn’t bother doing his hair before he left his room. It was the weekend, and everyone in the class had seen it down already, so it didn’t matter as much now.
He went to Bakugou’s room first, knocking loudly just in case the blond was still asleep. When there was no answer, Kirishima frowned and pulled out his phone, quickly texting Bakugou.
Dude where r u?
Bakugou answered almost instantly, Gym.
Oh k do u know where my megadeth sweatshirt is?
How the hell could you lose a fuckin’ sweatshirt overnight?
Kirishima could hear Bakugou’s amusement through the phone, and he frowned. U dont know where it is then?
You’re an idiot.
Kirishima sighed. If Bakugou didn’t know where it was, then Kirishima was out of leads. He wasn’t giving up yet though, and made his way downstairs to where Mina had texted she would be earlier.
He found Mina, Sero, and Kaminari in the common room, and before they could even greet him, Kirishima was blurting, “Have you seen my favourite sweatshirt?”
Sero cocked his head to the side as Mina and Kaminari laughed, probably at Kirishima’s agitation over something so trivial. Rude, Kirishima thought in a flurry of agitation, this is important!
“Which one?” Sero asked, elbowing a giggling Kaminari in the ribs and smiling at Kirishima helpfully.
“The Megadeth one!”
Kaminari pressed his lips in a line, attempting to hold back his laughter and failing. “Uh, yeah of course we’ve seen it, you were wearing it yesterday, dude.”
“Yeah Eiji, don’t tell me you lost it between the time you saw us and when you were studying with Bakugou?” Mina asked, and this time it was Kaminari’s turn to nudge her under the table.
Kirishima’s heart stopped, and he barely heard anything his friends said after that. There was no way Mina knew, right? She was famous for milking out all sorts of gossip. She was the first one to know of anyone's crush on anyone, who made out with who last night…
She couldn’t know, right? They hid it well enough, right? They had unspoken rules whenever they did anything—not too loud, and no visible marks on each other. Did she see through that stuff?
Kirishima narrowed his eyes. Of course not. She was asking an innocent question. She knew that Kirishima studied with Bakugou, there wasn’t anything else to it.
“Kirishima?” Sero asked, voice slightly concerned.
Kirishima snapped out of his frantic thoughts and saw each of his friends looking at him expectantly. Whoops. “Sorry, I didn’t hear. What was that?”
His friends launched into a million different suggestions about where Kirishima could look for the sweatshirt, and Kirishima’s mind was reeling after it all.
“Can you just come look with me?” Kirishima asked defeatedly, then smiled in what he hoped was a convincing way, “Pleaaaase?”
Mina was the first to be affected by his charms, frowning for a second and then standing up and gesturing for him to lead the way, “Let’s go then!” She exchanged a look with Kaminari and Sero—a deeply odd look that made Kirishima feel like they knew something he didn’t. That had him tingling in the head, but he had greater things on his mind. His friends were just being dumb, as per usual.
“Let’s spread out,” Sero suggests, “I can search in the training grounds.”
Mina nods, “I’ll take the common room.”
Kaminari thinks for a minute. “I can go to the kitchen.”
Kirishima blinks, “Why would my sweatshirt be in the kitchen—?”
“I need some granola bars, anyone else want?”
Kirishima groaned, and they laughed, clearly unaware of the stakes here. Kirishima couldn’t just tell them, either. Oh yeah by the way guys, the reason I need this sweater so badly is so that I can keep impressing Bakugou Katsuki so that he’ll continue to put his lips on my —
“Hey, slacker! You can’t just let us do all the work, we’re looking for your shit!” Kaminari snapped his fingers in front of Kirishima’s face to get his attention again.
“Sorry bro!” Kirishima quickly scrambled to his feet, feeling his cheeks heat up because of where his mind had been a few moments ago. He pulled his thoughts to a halt, snapping back to the present, inwardly slapping himself. He could imagine Bakugou frowning at him, “Focus.”
They looked around for quite some time, but to no avail. After an hour of frantic searching they eventually gave up, flopping back down on the couches in the common room defeatedly.
“It might be in the wash?” Sero offered meekly. Everyone knew there was no way it was in the wash. Kirishima didn’t do laundry often. He didn’t need to because he was shirtless a good percentage of the time anyways.
“Or with someone else,” Mina said, her dark eyes glinting in the way that put Kirishima on guard.
Did she think someone stole it? Kirishima really doubted that...
“No, I don’t think so,” Kirishima decided, glum. “Bakugou must’ve just thrown it somewhere when we were—” Kirishima realized what he was saying and stuttered to a hasty termination.
Too late .
Mina smiled like a cat watching a mouse, gesturing for Kirishima to elaborate. “When you were…?”
“Studying!” Kirishima squeaked, rushed. “Yeah, Biology! Physics!” Shit , he was such a bad liar.
Kaminari blinked, “Oh-kay, buddy.”
Sero leaned over to Mina with a smirk and whispered something that Kirishima swore sounded suspiciously like “biology,” in her ear. Mina barked a laugh and then slapped a hand across her mouth as she looked at Kirishima, wide-eyed.
Kirishima changed the topic quickly, sure that if this conversation continued, he would be forced to admit things he didn’t want to admit quite yet. “Let’s play poker! Um, like—all of us! Let me get Bakugou, and, you know, we can have a blast!”
“Dude,” Kaminari shook his head, closing his eyes with great disappointment, “Bad pun, tsk, tsk.”
Kirishima laughed despite himself. Mina’s eyes on him were still unnerving. He glanced at her, meeting her knowing eyes before escaping to begin the trek up to Bakugou’s dorm—it was, what, the second time he was going there, today?
He knocked on the door, apprehensively.
“What?” Bakugou opened the door and leaned on the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling Kirishima’s view.
The blond’s hair was explosive as always, tuffs in a wild disarray, red eyes dripping with scepticism. The slopes of his face were all cool angles, and Kirishima focused on his shirt as to not be distracted—
It looked really familiar.
“Woah, wait! Is that a Megadeth sweatshirt?”
Bakugou levelled a look at him. The same expression he often held while explaining math concepts: as if waiting for Kirishima to understand something.
Kirishima’s mind was reeling as he exclaimed excitedly, “I have the same one!”
No wonder Bakugou didn’t mind the Megadeth sweatshirt on him! They had matching ones!
Bakugou’s expression transformed into an entirely new exasperated mien. His eyes were almost murderous, and there was a dusting of red on his cheeks. “This isn’t mine.”
“Oh, so it’s a hand-me-down?” Kirishima frowned. Bakugou didn’t have any siblings… did he?
“Oh my fucking God, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou rubbed his eyes, his tone exasperated and defeated.
Kirishima wasn’t following. He cocked his head to the side and peered at Bakugou in confusion, “What…?”
Bakugou’s eyes flashed with something besides pure exasperation, and he shook his head. His cheeks were flaming as he murmured, “You’re going to fucking kill me,” almost to himself more than Kirishima.
“I’m… Bakugou, what?” Kirishima was desperately confused.
Bakugou looked determinedly at the floor as he said in a voice lower than a whisper, but scathing and heavy with meaning - a meaning Kirishima didn't quite understand yet.
“It’s yours. The one you lost.”
Kirishima still wasn’t computing those words. “What do you mean, it’s mine? ...Like, you took it from me?”
Bakugou loosed a loud exasperated sigh, meeting Kirishima’s eyes again with his flaming crimson ones, “Yes, you fucking idiot, I took your stupidass sweater! Don’t boyfr—” he stopped himself dead and flushed. His eyes were cast down again, and when he continued his voice was unsure, quaking.
Kirishima had never seen Bakugou like this before.
His eyes were fixated on the floor. “Don’t people in our—uh— situation , share clothes like this?”
It clicked, and Kirishima finally understood what this was all about. He grinned and stepped closer to Bakugou, who looked slightly panicked, but didn’t back away. Kirishima placed his hands on Bakugou’s chest and gently asked, “Boyfriends?”
Bakugou was taken aback and blinked, frozen. Kirishima laughed. Of course Bakugou was fine with all the touching they’d done previously, but as soon as it required a talk about his feelings…
A little push, then.
Kirishima placed his lips on Bakugou’s forehead, fingers twisting in the sweatshirt. “I had bought that sweatshirt,” he said, softly, planting kisses along Bakugou’s brow bone, “...for you.”
The blond brow under his kisses coiled up, and Bakugou brought his fingers to his face as he asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, I wanted to impress you,” he drew himself back, meeting Bakugou’s skeptical red gaze.
When Kirishima was met with silence, he spoke again, tentative, “Isn’t that… what boyfriends do?”
Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to him, just in time for Kirishima to smile at him and push him into the room, kissing him wildly, and pulling off his sweatshirt.