Chapter Text
Bakugo had done nothing but worry since he stepped foot in his apartment. He raced home after work like a madman and scrutinized every square inch of his space. If Kirishima would be staying the night he needed to erase any bit of his personality but he doesn’t know how. His apartment is too much of himself.
There is all his sleek black furniture and boring white walls that at first glance makes you think he’s cold and minimalist. He is. But then there is the carefully curated wall of plants near the windows leading to his balcony that seem to suggest otherwise. Ones he treats like temperamental children who if he doesn’t show enough love to, they’ll die. They will.
His vision is to be less human or not even that, an alien, a person who only uses their space as a charging pod and nothing more. It’s impossible to overall his whole space with so little time but he evaluates what he can.
Did his blanket ladder say he was too soft? Did the number of frames that still had stock photos say he was bad at making memories? Should he leave them then. Would his array of cookbooks on the glass coffee table say he was an amateur or a home cook studying to a near professional level?
Would any of this even cross Kirishima’s mind? He’s not sure.
Bakugo knows he’s overthinking everything and yet he hides his unused frames in the coat closet. He contemplates knocking down his neighbor’s door and offering up his collection of plants and succulents. Then he decides he can’t part with them because starting over would take too much energy. His cookbooks he stuffs into a cardboard box and places them in the coat closet too. He’ll leave the blankets because what type of animal didn’t need soft knit throws and quilts year-round. On second thought, they could also fit in the coat closet.
Fantastic, he’s made it into as much of an impersonal barren wasteland as he could manage. His bedroom was as plain as could be so he had nothing to worry about there. His bathroom would only reveal he had a skincare routine.
With nothing else to worry about he draws the drapes, thick custom embroidered fabric, that blocks out most of the light. He uses a remote to turn on a few lamps: two he thrifted with uniquely shaped shades and a simple circular one with a heavy marble base. Okay…he’s bad at erasing himself but that’s not a problem he could fix so easily. He should have gone to management to see if they had a display apartment he could borrow.
He makes his way to his kitchen to remove the salmon atop the cedar block in his oven. He plates it with the salad he prepared. Finally, he sets a bottle of his homemade vinaigrette between the plates on the counter. He’ll tell Kirishima he ordered out so it’s no big deal.
I’m in the lobby, should I come up?
Bakugo hurriedly hides away every cooking utensil he can in plain sight. They go right in the dishwasher and then he texts Kirishima.
Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.
When he finds Kirishima just outside the elevators in jeans, a burgundy henley and weather appropriate down jacket it makes him feel strange. Bakugo knows exactly what Kirishima looks like but his body always acts like it’s the first time. Skin prickling when Kirishima so much as smiles at him.
They greet each other with a hesitant wave and hello. Then Kirishima leans in to hug him and Bakugo just kind of lets it happen. When the weight of the arms around him disappears, it’s sooner than he’d like. No, no, he reprimands his brain not soon enough.
“I didn’t know you cook,” Kirishima says after releasing him from the hug.
“Huh, I don’t?” Bakugo says uselessly wondering how Kirishima could have possibly already found him out.
“Then what’s with the apron?” Kirishima asks eyes raking down his body.
Bakugo’s face heats faster than water in an electric kettle. Shit, he forgot he was wearing it. He undoes the knot at his hip and tears the item off his body.
“I ordered out and didn’t want to get anything on my clothes,” Bakugo says. Kirishima nods so Bakugo figures he sounds believable. “You’re not allergic to anything are you?”
“Not that I know of,” Kirishima shrugs uncaring like a man who had never come face to face with life threatening food allergies.
“Alright, I guess we have nothing to worry about then,” Bakugo says as he turns around to push the button for the elevator.
“Yes we do,” Kirishima smirks “you and I together in an elevator again, we should be very worried.”
Bakugo bites his lip to keep himself from smiling. “The stairwell here has never not smelled like hot sewage,” He says “You can tough it out but I’m not taking any chances with airborne diseases.”
“Elevator it is,” Kirishima nods.
The ride is short, thankfully uninterrupted, and Bakugo leads the way to his unit. Arriving to the door he takes a deep breath before letting Kirishima into his space. It’s just one night together. He could get through this for the betterment of his symptoms and being able to properly function at work.
He doesn’t watch for Kirishima’s reaction at entering his apartment. He just slips out his shoes near the door and starts to set off in the direction of the kitchen. It feels rude which must mean it is the right thing to do.
“Is there a place I can hang my coat?” Kirishima asks before he gets too far “Maybe this closet, is it okay?”
“No!” Bakugo nearly screams whirling back around and rushing to take the coat from Kirishima before he can open the door. “I’ll hang your coat in my bedroom so it’s easier for you to grab in the morning.”
“Um okay, thanks,” Kirishima smiles.
Bakugo drops off the coat in his room with record speed just in case Kirishima happened upon anything else he didn’t want him seeing. Returning he finds Kirishima still standing stiffly in the same spot near his door. The coat closet is still closed so it couldn’t be that. Hmmm Bakugo chocks it up to Kirishima being nervous.
He figured the first thing he’d do after finding his soulmate would be to run a background check. Comb through their social media for any red flags so he wasn’t wasting his time. If nothing was amiss, he’d consider the traditional route. Going on dates, meeting their family, and eventually moving in together to combine their lives. It was what Izuku and Ochako had done and it only took them two months. Staying the night had to be skipping more than a few steps.
“You can set your overnight bag on the coffee table if you want,” Bakugo offers too lazy to run it back to his room.
“Sure, let me just get your gift out first,” Kirishima says unzipping it.
“Gift?” Bakugo repeats brows arching.
“It’s my first time here so I didn’t want to be empty handed,” Kirishima says as if that explains everything.
He pulls out a long rectangular gold bag and hands it over. Bakugo removes the yellow tissue paper and slides out a bottle of red wine. Pinot Noir, he reads the label then thanks Kirishima. It would actually pair pretty well with the salmon but he decides to save it.
“Do you like red wine?” Bakugo asks as he finds a place to store the bottle.
“More so than white,” Kirishima says “I do have a friend that makes one hell of a sangria.”
“If you want a good cocktail there’s this club I used to-“ Bakugo stops in thought looking at Kirishima. In his brooding he forgot having soulmate came with a few upsides. He has a real, breathing, matching eyes soulmate. He wouldn’t have to sneak into that club anymore on nights with restrictions. He could waltz right in with Kirishima by his side.
“You used to?” Kirishima says.
“Frequent,” Bakugo coughs out “we should go together…if you’re interested in that type of outing.”
God, Bakugo hoped he was interested.
“Sounds like fun,” Kirishima says.
“Seriously?” Bakugo tries to mask his excitement.
“It might be a nice to go out for a night without any pressure,” Kirishima says absentmindedly then he quickly backtracks. “Not that today I feel pressured to be here or anything!”
“Relax Red,” Bakugo says patting him on the shoulder and steering him to the kitchen “We’re starting over, remember. No pressure.”
They each take a chair at his counter where Bakugo had left the food. He figured setting up his small table for two might be a level of intimacy he’s not ready for.
Kirishima pushes some of his salmon around on his plate “I know I asked to start over but my hopes weren’t high. I was glad you called me.”
“Your notes were very sincere,” Bakugo says quietly cutting into his own fillet.
Mina had put the notes in order when he returned from his lunch. Instead of getting any work done he read and reread through them till his day was over. Each one was Kirishima answering the same questions Bakugo had answered in the elevator when they were stuck. Kirishima’s first note said he thought it was only fair to answer the questions but also selfishly he wanted Bakugo to get to know him too.
That’s why Bakugo now knows Kirishima’s favorite food is anything with beef (it’s why he made salmon). That he thought the superhero movies were the greatest cinema of all time but his favorite actor is Fat Gum because he did his own stunts. He’s right-handed. He’s the oldest of five, two brothers and two sisters, he’s closest to his mom but that might be because his dad passed away when he was 12. His favorite color, of course, is red. Bakugo knew it all and more.
“The notes change your mind?” Kirishima asks a light pink dusting his cheekbones “Talking with people is usually so much easier for me but we started off wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to surprise you at your job without knowing how you would take it.”
Bakugo squirms in his seat “It’s not all your fault. You couldn’t have known we were soulmates and I overreacted when I yelled at you. Not all surprises are bad especially roses and wine.”
“Good to know.” Kirishima finally takes a bite of his salmon and a little pleasant moan follows that makes Bakugo’s grip tighten on his utensils. Kirishima looks over to him pointing at the food with his fork in a Can you believe how good this is? manner.
“Where did you order this from?” Kirishima asks as soon as his mouth is no longer full “It’s really good!”
“That’s a secret,” Bakugo says nose crinkling up.
“Ahh so you gatekeep food places,” Kirishima says eyes twinkling like he’s just learned an interesting new fact about him.
“I do not,” Bakugo huffs “That place is closing and I don’t know if they’re opening a new spot.” The lie rolls off his tongue way too easily. It’s a stupid thing to lie about. He shouldn’t be inventing restaurants in dire situations even if it’s mostly harmless. Kirishima knowing he could cook wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? Bakugo is used to keeping it from his staff at work so it’s not like he was singling Kirishima out.
“All the more reason you should tell me,” Kirishima chuckles “I’d like to support them before they close.”
Somehow Kirishima believing him made lying feel even worse.
“Technically you already have supported them,” Bakugo mumbles “but I’ll let them know you enjoyed it if I stop back in.”
“Please do,” Kirishima grins.
They both continue eating and fall into a comfortable silence as they enjoy their food. Bakugo is thankful for it but it would be better for him if he could find Kirishima annoying to be around. Kirishima apologizing and trying to make amends had killed his desire to treat him horribly. He had elaborate ideas like not so politely suggesting Kirishima do the dishes because what type of asshole puts their guest to work. Instead, he gets up on his own to clear away the plates when they’re finished.
“Let me,” Kirishima says jumping in to help “it’s the least I can do since you went through the trouble of paying for everything.”
Kirishima takes the dish right from his hand and brings them to sink leaving Bakugo to stare at his back dumbfounded. Everything was going to plan but not at all how it played out in his head.
“I’ll dry them,” Bakugo says remembering he doesn’t want Kirishima looking in his dishwasher. He grabs a towel and holds out his hand for a plate as he approaches the sink.
“Are you sure?” Kirishima asks taking a long look at him.
Bakugo internally was panicking but on the outside he’s not sure what would make Kirishima asks him that. Last he checked he wasn’t sweating bullets.
“You’re my guests so I shouldn’t even let you wash those,” Bakugo argues “Plus, how much were those flowers and wine?”
“It’s no big deal,” Kirishima says flicking on the water and adding a spurt of soap over the plates, forks, and knives.
Bakugo watches him grab the singular available sponge set out to start cleaning with. Kirishima passes the items one by one and they diligently work together. It reminds Bakugo of his parents who he’d often observe work in tandem the same way after meals at home.
He remembers seeing his dad whisper in his mom’s ear and seconds later she would be dying laughing or nudging him to stop with a grin on her face. Other times they’d hum a tune softly enjoying each other’s company. Bakugo’s biggest motivation for wanting to find his soulmate as a kid had been his parents love. He was inspired by them, not that he’d ever admit it to them but they were his goal. He wanted to be in a relationship where he could find happiness in mundane or cumbersome tasks so long as the person he loved was beside him.
“I used to want a be a chef as a kid. I even took cooking classes through high school and thought I might apply to culinary school,” Bakugo says while placing a plate on the drying rack.
“Is there a reason you didn’t?” Kirishima asks curiously handing over a knife.
“I’m not so sure I would have been accepted,” Bakugo says “but I like where I’ve ended up.”
“I thought I would do something more practical, like accounting, but I won an art award in elementary school for painting and the rest was history,” Kirishima shares.
“Is that all it takes for you to dedicate yourself? An award,” Bakugo says with a smirk.
“Possibly,” Kirishima says “Why? Do you have one to give me?”
If Bakugo did does that mean Kirishima would dedicate his life to him? The thought makes Bakugo flush. “You want an award for washing dishes?” Bakugo questions avoiding his eyes.
“Sure, I am pretty good at it,” Kirishima says placing a squeaky-clean fork in his awaiting hands.
“Okay.” Bakugo dries the fork and sets down his towel.
“Okay?” Kirishima eyes narrow on him.
“Congratulations Eijirou Kirishima,” Bakugo says taking Kirishima’s hand and brushing off the suds from the smiley face scrubber he’s holding. “I’d like you to have this award for best dishwasher.”
Bakugo snorts at his own shenanigans until he gets a look at Kirishima’s face. Kirishima stares at him wide eyed and blinking.
“You’re supposed to give a speech now,” Bakugo says deadpan letting go of his hand and rinsing off the traces of soap from his own.
Kirishima coughs clearing his throat “Sorry, I keep thinking you’ll only ever call me Red but then you don’t.”
Awful speech. There were no thanks or criticism of the dishwashing industry. Bakugo couldn’t help that he was gifted in coming up with nicknames for everyone he’s ever met. Aizawa told him he might be doing it as a way to detach himself from people. It might have been true. He learned the opposite often occurred and the nicknames made people feel closer to him than they actually were. That didn’t seem to be Kirishima’s case.
“I didn’t know you cared so much Eijirou,” Bakugo says.
“I know you’re forcing it now but I still like hearing you say it,” Kirishima laughs as he finishes washing his hands.
He pats them dry on his pants then tries to cover up a yawn escaping. Giving in Kirishima stretches his arms over his head and yawns fully. He looks like a cat or more so a tiger, Bakugo thinks. The corded muscles of his biceps flexing and ones that appear as he rolls out his shoulders are much too big for a meager domesticated animal.
Bakugo is back to openly staring now, his eyes glazing over as he watches Kirishima stretch. Is he supposed to get any sleep lying next to all of that? He feels a pinch of heat in his core at the memory of his fantasies from the morning. His face scrunches as his thoughts shift.
Kirishima takes a hold of his hand interlacing their fingers which startles him. Bakugo doesn’t pull away but he raises a brow in question.
“I nearly forgot your head must be hurting,” Kirishima says “I should be touching you more.”
It would be a sweet sentiment if Bakugo’s mind wasn’t stuck in the gutter. He shakes Kirishima off to prevent himself from dying of embarrassment.
“It’s a constant pain but I can bear it. I’d be numb to it by now if it didn’t change so often in severity,” Bakugo says.
Kirishima frowns “Anyone can see that you’re strong Katsuki but I’m here so you don’t have to be.”
This guy. Fine. Bakugo holds out his hand and Kirishima takes it happily as they walk to Bakugo’s bedroom. Kirishima doesn’t let go even when he stops to pick up his bag from table in the living room. Only when they’re standing in the doorway of his bathroom does Kirishima drop his hand.
“I’ll be quick,” Kirishima promises though Bakugo never thought to asks that of him.
“Not necesary but if you need anything let me know,” Bakugo says closing the door.
Bakugo takes the time away to change as he had already showered earlier. He throws on a white t-shirt and squeezes into black shorts. Then he picks a side of his bed to lie on instead of cocooning himself in the middle of it like he normally did. Each second feels like hours until Kirishima emerges from the bathroom.
The first thing Bakugo notices about him is his hair looks different. Without the gel forming stiff peaks it falls around his face partially covering his brows a few long strands nearly kiss the tip of his nose. Bakugo likes it. Even the dark roots slightly showing beneath the dyed red seem to draw him in.
Then his eyes flow down to the rest and Bakugo can’t help but laughing. He doesn’t even attempt to hold it together.
“What’s so funny?” Kirishima asks smiling as he approaches the bed and letting his bag slip to the floor.
“What are you wearing?” Bakugo can’t remember the last time he smiled so hard it started to hurt.
“The softest pajamas I own,” Kirishima says in defense sitting down beside him.
Bakugo believes they’re soft but he finds it hard to believe other options didn’t exist. Green camouflage shorts and a sleeveless orange top that says “It’s lit!” under an embroidered string of Christmas lights.
“Were you going for carrot?” Bakugo asks.
“They’re super soft. Feel up my pants!” Kirishima insists excitedly.
Bakugo pauses and lets the silence stretch between them until Kirishima’s face is darker than the tank he’s wearing.
“Obviously I didn’t mean it like that,” Kirishima cries out.
“You think because we have a cosmic connection and I invite you over that you can make demands like feeling you up.” Bakugo says purposefully exaggerating,
“Katsuki, you know I what meant,” Kirishima groans “For real man, they’re so soft.”
“Better be,” Bakugo says.
He rests his palm on Kirishima’s unsurprisingly firm thigh. The material is indeed pleasant so he pinches and rolls a small piece of fabric between his fingers.
“They are nice,” Bakugo murmurs before letting go.
“Told you so!” Kirishima says triumphant his sharp teeth showing in his smile.
How cute. Cute! The word sticks in Bakugo’s mind changing his smile to a downturned pursing of his lips.
“Hello?” Kirishima says waving his hand in front of his face.
“I need to brush my teeth,” Bakugo says popping up from the bed and escaping to his bathroom.
He had thought Kirishima was eruptions on the sun levels of hot the moment they met. It didn’t have any bearing on him wanting a soulmate but he’s annoyed by cute. Cute was a step towards effectively harmless and Kirishima was anything but. Kirishima, he’s sure, could destroy him the same way a lion would a gazelle. It would be a natural occurrence.
Bakugo takes longer than needed to brush his teeth all to gather his wits. He regrets being gone so long because it made the return seem more dreadful. Kirishima doesn’t say anything though as he awkwardly returns to his side of the bed.
Bakugo turns off the light on his nightstand and then he lays back completely so Kirishima does too. They’re shoulder to shoulder; arms stretched straight in the narrow space between their bodies without touching. Bakugo’s fingers brush against Kirishima’s knuckles and then they’re holding hands both finding an interesting place on the ceiling to stare at.
The thrum of ongoing pain in Bakugo’s head is slowly being replaced by nothingness. Exactly the way it should be. Tranquility at its finest lied in not thinking about how to breathe or if his heart even worked during all hours of the day. He’s hopeful that he will be well rested tomorrow because of the changes he's already experiencing. The words “thank you” are on the tip of Bakugo’s tongue when Kirishima speaks first.
“Is this helping at all? Maybe we should try a closer position,” Kirishima says.
Bakugo read a lot online and he’s sure closer is better but holding hands seemed to be an adequate measure. He's not about to spew all his research to show he'd been any ounce of concerned over this ordeal. The length of time they were connected mattered most. Guides and list suggested that a good 12 hours was the sweet spot and he was trusting that advice. Should he be worried about letting go of Kirishima’s hand by accident in his sleep? Then they’d probably have to commit to another night of this.
“It’s helping but being on our sides might make this easier,” Bakugo says turning over.
He faces away from Kirishima because it will make him less of a nervous fucking wreck if they're not looking deeply into each others eyes. At least, that’s what he thought until the moment he feels an arm slip around his middle and Kirishima’s chest press against his back. His body is warm and Bakugo is at odds with how perfectly they fit together.
“Is this okay?” Kirishima checks.
Kirishima’s voice comes out so gravelly that Bakugo stops forming complete sentences in his head.
“S’fine,”Bakugo mutters.
“Mmmm good,”Kirishima says cuddling up against him more.
Their legs tangle together and Bakugo lets himself fully relax back into Kirishima’s chest. The heartbeat in Bakugo’s head is the same one he can feel against his back. He can hear and feel each long intake of breath and the soft exhales that follow. He finds Kirishima’s hand and interlocks their fingers together again.
“Sorry this all I can do,” Kirishima mumbles sleepily.
It’s the last thing Bakugo remembers him saying before everything goes dark.