Kirishima swore, gritting his teeth as a strangled cry came from the weapon clutched tightly in his right hand. His body haphazardly flew backwards from the blow the winged creature had landed on his attempted block, his center of gravity completely thrown off, and he desperately grappled for something to grab onto with his free hand. With his other hand having been pinned, he hadn’t had much of a choice but to block with Bakugo’s barrel or they’d have both been screwed, but the blond was sure to bitch at him about the fresh dent in his metal he’d have to have repaired later. At least they were still alive.
They’d run into Jack the Ripper on accident, the creature already high on human souls and teetering on the razor’s edge of becoming a Kishin by the time they’d discovered it. Or rather, by the time it had discovered them. The monster had caught them completely by surprise, injuring Kirishima before either he or Bakugo had the chance to react with two quick slices, one to the back of his ankle and the other a deep gouge in his bicep that oozed thick blood every time he was forced to aim and shoot. Neither Kirishima nor Bakugo were spiritually perceptive like many other weapon/meister duos, but they usually made up for it with raw power and skill. Usually. The Ripper probably hadn’t even noticed that blaring weakness and targeted them for it, he’d probably just started attacking whatever moved in his sightline.
They were shit out of luck.
Kirishima’s scaled left hand dug into the crumbling wall of the building behind him as he slammed into it, dust clouding around him and obscuring his vision as he tightened his grip to keep them both from plummeting to the street below. The Ripper screeched at an ear-shattering pitch, and Kirishima caught a flash of red eyes gleaming through the airborne debris.
“You ready, Bakugo?” Kirishima murmured down at the blond, wincing as he lifted the shotgun and aimed it at the wall behind him.
The steel gripped in his softer palm purred delightedly, and Bakugo chuckled, “let’s blow this fucker to pieces.”
A slightly manic grin tore across Kirishima’s face as he leapt off the wall, blasting himself forward with an explosion from Bakugo’s hefty barrel. A gleaming set of claws blindly swiped through the air, missing Kirishima by inches and plunging deep into the broken rocks where he’d just been. Kirishima, adrenaline thrumming through his body, quickly changed direction, snapping his hardened hand out and catching the Ripper by the front of his thin neck. The momentum wrenched at his shoulder as he spun back around, landing with both feet planted on the Ripper’s bony shoulders.
The creature wailed in frustration, scrabbling his feet against the broken wall surrounding his trapped claws. His shuddering movements threw off Kirishima’s loose grip and he wobbled, shifting his weight off his hurt ankle and flailing as he fought not to lose his balance. He reached down, winding his fingers through the coarse, mangled hairs cresting the sides of the Ripper’s face, and thrust Bakugo’s barrel against the crown of the monster’s skull.
“You fuc-” Bakugo yelled, and Kirishima pulled the trigger.
The blast tore through the Ripper’s head, a brilliant blaze of orange and red sparks, and the monster desaturated and broke apart. The black ribbons making up his shape uncoiled and dissipated, leaving only a brilliant ruby soul undulating in the Ripper’s place and two less footholds for Kirishima to stand on. He cried out in alarm, desperately trying to reach the surrounding buildings as he fell, careening through the air and failing to catch a hold.
He vaguely heard a frightened cry of his name before he twisted and hit the ground hard. The only thing that saved him from a variety of fractured and broken bones were the crimson scales that ran inconsistently down that side of his body, but the impact shuddered through his entire being nonetheless, rendering him completely shocked and unable to force himself to move. He’d managed to protect his head, but that meant his hip and shoulder took the brunt of the fall. He groaned low, blinking lethargically as he tried to turn his head and find Bakugo.
His weapon shifted in the corner of his peripheral vision with a flash of white light, metal panels and pins transforming into flesh and bone, and Bakugo scrambled to Kirishima’s side, hands hovering awkwardly above him. A long gash down the blond’s neck and collarbone dripped red blood into the collar of his t-shirt, and Kirishima blinked, watching the tiny rivulets stream down Bakugo’s pale skin.
That could have been so much worse.
“Eiji?” Katsuki murmured, his voice wavering, “hey, dumbass, are you okay?”
Kirishima wrinkled his nose and fought to take an even breath, tightening and releasing different muscles to test for injuries and finding that a surprising amount of his body was responding how it was supposed to. Maybe he’d gotten luckier than he’d expected. “I’m alright, Kats,” he croaked, coughing lightly to dislodge some of the dust and debris in his throat.
“You sound like you’ve gargled rocks,” Katsuki replied with a grimace, his hand gently settling on Kirishima’s shoulder. Eijiro huffed, the action making something twinge painfully in his chest.
“I mean, I’m not dead,” he offered with a tight smile, hoping to ease the blond’s guarded anxiety somewhat.
Katsuki’s frown deepened, and Kirishima’s skin began to buzz under his touch, warm hands on his shoulders shifting his weakened body to rest against Katsuki’s chest. Eijiro leaned into his partner’s solid embrace, breathing in the faint scent of gunpowder and iron. “Sorry about…” he trailed off, weakly tapping a finger a couple inches from the injury on Katsuki’s neck. It’d started clotting, but it was a gruesome picture nonetheless. Leftover adrenaline and fear for Bakugo’s life thrummed through him, and his head throbbed incessantly as thoughts of all the ways he could have gotten Katsuki, if not both of them, killed filled it.
“Tch,” the blond replied, his grip tightening minutely around Kirishima. One hand ran soothingly down his spine, the other keeping him upright. Feeling began to return to Eijiro’s body at the familiar touch, aches beginning to blossom where he’d hit the ground.
They collectively took a moment to just breathe, to let the shock and adrenaline die down. Neither of them were critically injured, even with as close as they’d come to it, so they could afford themselves just a second. A soft red glow appeared on Bakugo’s right cheekbone, the Ripper’s soul having finally floated down to meet them. Katsuki eyed it contemplatively, using his free hand to grab at the singular soul. It jiggled softly in his grip, pulsing with life.
Katsuki opened his jaw wide and pushed it between his teeth, tilting his head back and gulping the soul down. The shape of it protruded against the skin of his throat as he swallowed it down, a soft light echoing its movements. Katsuki licked his lips and grinned ferally, teeth glinting in the dim glow of the street lamps. Eijiro blinked up at him as a pleased hum reverberated through his partner’s chest. Being half-weapon himself, he felt a slight pull to consume souls, but he didn’t think he’d ever find it as satisfying as Katsuki did.
The blond looked down to meet his gaze, having sensed his attention. “You’re gonna pay for shoving my barrel all up in that bastard’s gross scalp.”
Eijiro groaned, increasing the dramatic effect on purpose, and cradled his aching ribs. “I was a little focused on keeping us both alive, Kats, I didn’t have your list of ‘no-no’s on hand. Show a little appreciation, babe.”
Katsuki’s lips pursed thoughtfully, and it looked dangerously like a pout. Kirishima’s heart gave a short flutter at that, and a lazy, buttery smile spread across his cheeks. The blond averted his eyes for a short moment, his eyes uneasily darting around Kirishima’s torso, before they finally landed on his mouth. Katsuki bent down, brushing his lips softly against Eijiro’s own. His mouth was fire, impossibly warm against him, the familiar taste spreading a soothing feeling over his injured body.
He pulled back just enough to whisper, “thank you for saving us, Eiji,” before pressing down again, lightly, sweetly.
Eijiro smiled against his mouth, wishing he could wind his hands through Katuski’s wild, spikey hair and pull him closer. Kirishima’s tongue slipped over the crease in Katsuki’s lips, and the blond pulled away.
“We should get you medical attention,” he stated, clearing his throat and turning his face away in a vain attempt to hide the blush dusting his cheeks.
“Probably… a good idea,” Kirishima wheezed, hacking up another cough. “Pretty sure I inhaled half of that building’s foundation.”
“The foundation didn’t even get damaged, you idiot.”
“Shh…” Kirishima murmured, his voice slurring. “M’tired.”
“Stay awake a little longer, alright? Or I might just hand you over to Professor Stein.”
“Nooooooo…” Kirishima whined, cuddling closer to Bakugo’s chest and blinking up at him with the best puppy dog eyes he could manage.
Katsuki chuckled, his voice reverberating through his skin, and he leaned down to pick up a shard of glass about the size of his palm from the street. He exhaled softly, and began to mumble as he drew numbers in the condensation.
“42-42-564, whenever you wanna knock on Death’s door.”