Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s colder than a snowman's tits outside. Despite being wrapped tightly in a black trench coat, thick beanie, and one hundred percent cashmere Burberry scarf the air seems to penetrate all his layers because he forgot his damn leather gloves in his office.

How was it, Bakugo wonders, that the coldness in his hands could spread so quickly through his body enough to force a shiver?

That if he so much as stopped walking for a mere moment his teeth would clatter together in an annoying chime beyond his control. He hated winter. If it wasn’t for everything the city had to offer, he’d have moved to an island by now. A place springing with beautiful palm trees, crystal clear waters, and a tourist trap tiki-themed bar with surprisingly great cocktails.

Yes, an island where he’d be more threatened by coconuts falling and splitting open his skull than falling ill to hypothermia on the streets. He’d have a quiet secluded cottage on the cliffs only disturbed by the locals who’d bring him his takeout orders. He sure could dream.

Too bad for him rich people loved cities and they loved islands for vacationing during these frigid months. They only returned this time of year to do some holiday shopping as he’d seen already. His art gallery was thriving with rich sponsors who were ever so kind to spend what would be a normal person’s yearly salary on art. A gift to themselves or a friend to display in the living room of one of their seven homes.

From the outside looking in, the fine art market probably seemed like a giant money laundering scheme. Bakugo didn’t care about where the money came from, who was spending it, or who it was spent on.  He was only concerned about getting his cut.

As long as his exhibited artists were happy and the money, which was more often than not wired to him, cleared its proper account, who was he to ask questions? He would retire in twenty years at the ripe age of 45. He’d be in perfect health to visit every island he dreamed of if they weren’t buried underwater by climate change.

He’d spend his days attending fancy soirées, eating the world's finest foods, and inevitably when he got bored in his 60s he’d reemerge in the art scene with a young orphan that he invited to his chocolate factory to teach all his trade secrets to and inherit his legacy. However, that plan would only come to fruition if he was able to lure in the ever-elusive art collector All Might to his gallery.

A man exceptionally wealthy, with pickier tastes than most rich schmucks he sold to, and an agenda that Bakugo didn’t understand the goal of. All Might would drop loads of money on art only to turn around and donate the pieces he bought and that wasn’t any of Bakugo’s business. What mattered was that getting a bid from All Might was like winning the lottery and he’d be on the fast track to an early retirement.

So, he would suffer the brutal cold, he would find a diamond, and he would turn a profit. It was a winning formula and no part of it included a side quest to find his soul mate. Unlike the rest of the hopeless romantics in the population, Bakugo wasn’t thrilled about the idea of being attached at the hip or rather the heart. The whole process freaked him out the older he got.

The idea that he could brush hands with a complete stranger and then be reduced to tears as their eyes changed from the lovely grey that everyone was born with to a new matching hue was alarming in the least. Discomforting at the best.

That a second heartbeat foreign to his own would make itself apparent seemed lifted from a horror film. Yet, the greatest horror of all was that this stranger was going to believe those unnaturally occurring events meant they were supposed to be together forever. He didn’t do forever; he hardly did into next week if he could help it.

He wasn’t always like this of course. As a kid he was naïve, he thought it was cool even, he thought it was the most amazing ritual that anyone could ever have the pleasure of experiencing. It was mind-blowing that the universe would conspire to help everyone be loved. It was beautiful.

He used to be obsessed not only with the phenomenon of soulmates but also with finding his person and figuring out what they would be like.

“What if they're blind?” He remembers asking his parents when he was just old enough to string together a full sentence with a coherent thought.

What if his soulmate couldn’t see their eyes changing colors? What if he told them their eyes were the same color but the person didn’t believe him?

“Then they’ll hear your heartbeat and know that you are theirs,” his mom said embracing him in a hug.

“What if they’re deaf and blind?” He had then questioned with a deep frown. 

What if they couldn’t see their eyes change and couldn’t hear the heartbeat? Then how would they even know he was their soulmate?

“Katsuki, does a person hear their heartbeat or do they feel the rhythm vibrating in their ears and interpret it as sound?” His dad asked before tangling his arms around them too.

Fucking scientists. He was much too young to understand his dad’s explanation, but both parents hugged him tight and told him that his soulmate would just know. He believed them.

When he asked why a kid he went to school with had green eyes already; they said that kid either already found their soulmate or they may never have one. He believed that too and he made that kid's life a living hell. Well, that’s why he’d been going to therapy for the last five years, soulmates were stupid, and he should focus on building generational wealth for an orphan.

If he was lucky, he would find a new diamond today at Endeavor’s Gallery. As the atrocious flaming neon E enters his sight, he’s only thankful for the chance to feel his toes again. He uses his shoulder to push open the metal railing on the door not bothering to expose his already frozen fingers in the pockets of his jacket.

It’s toasty inside and his body relaxes as it’s slowly defrosted. He pointedly ignores the attendant at the front desk saying “We’re closed” as he enters. Closed to the public, sure, closed to him, unlikely. He was in a place he shouldn’t be but that never stopped him before. He didn’t get where he was by following the rules.

He approaches the roped-off area leading to a pristine white open room. He can see some artwork strewn on the walls but before he can duck the rope the man at the desk rushes to his side to stop him.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Bakugo says before he’s told again that they’re closed.

“Sorry but I can’t allow you to enter the building,” the man says “I have strict orders.”

“Look,” Bakugo checks his nameplate “Onima, is it? Nice name. I’ve already entered the building and now you’re going to let me into this exhibit.”

“What makes you think I’ll do that,” Onima asks crossing his arms.

“You wouldn’t want word to get back to your boss perhaps,” Bakugo starts “saying you turned away a friend of his youngest most beloved son.”

“You know Shouto Todoroki?” Onima’s eyes widen.

“Know him,” Bakugo barks out a laugh “I employ him. So, what will it be?”

The man’s brow twitches and he unfurls his arms “Half the works have already been taken down and there are movers still here today to uninstall.”

“It will be a short visit then,” Bakugo says taking a step forward only to be stopped by Onima’s hand going up.

“I still have to sign you in,” Onima explains.

“No need,” Bakugo says sliding past him and slipping under the rope “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

Hopefully long gone before Onima ever finds out that Shouto Todoroki and his dad are closer to enemies than family. Screw Endeavor.

Walking around it’s clear he’s out of place as he gets curious stares from the movers. His ordinary dark winter clothes stick out like a sore thumb among the mass of obnoxious red utility jumpsuits. It’s ridiculous that Endeavor Gallery would even go through the effort to uniform their moving crew.

He doesn’t talk to any of them, he just stays out of their way as he silently does his job. He reviews the pieces of art they haven’t removed and some in the process of being disassembled. Nothing stands out. A dull oil-painted portrait no matter the technique wasn’t going to catch the eye of someone like All Might. Then Bakugo turns a corner into a new cube of space where he receives a direct hit.

At first, he’s critical of the painting hanging against the black wall. Suspicious that it was the dark backdrop ensnaring him more than the painting itself. He inches closer taking in the bright colors on the hunched-over figure. It’s too literal is his first real thought as his eyes follow the red thread around to where it’s looped at a finger.

“What do you think of it?”

He’s not startled by the question as it’s one he’s been asked more times than he can count.

“I hate it,” Bakugo says eyes still glued to the painting.

“You hate it!” comes the voice surprised and then a flutter of bright laughter fills his ears.

Looking back, that’s when Bakugo should have known; when he should’ve stopped talking. Instead, Bakugo turns to the voice of the inquiry. Red jumpsuit, a mover clearly, and as his eyes reach the face his lips purse together.

He’s met with a toothy grin, cheery eyes that seem brighter than the average grey, and wild spiky red hair. The top is shaped to a point like the peak of a mountain and spills out messily around his ears, jagged all the way down to the nape of his neck. How could such shitty hair be attached to such a handsome face? Bakugo was used to observing art but not people who were works of art themselves.

The more he looks the finer the detail is and he gets lost in them. How his jaw is all hard angles but his lips seem delicate curving into a smile that makes his cheekbones soft and full. A tiny scar is hardly noticeable above one eye slightly lighter than the rest of his warm tan skin. He fills out his uniform nicely with a few undone buttons revealing an almost scandalous amount of solid muscle.

Bakugo’s eyes snap back to the guy’s face afraid of his thoughts turning vulgar. He’s caught off guard by Red leaning into him so close that he catches a whiff of an earthy cologne. He would let that pine scent be his source of oxygen if he could.

“Did you hear my question?” Red asks his deep voice so near it makes Bakugo heat to the temperature of the sun.

“No,” Bakugo chokes out taking a full step backward.

“Sorry” Red takes a quick step away too “I didn’t mean to invade your space; I thought I wasn’t loud enough.”

“Your question?” Bakugo asks composing himself by turning back to the painting on the wall. If he didn’t have to look at the guy then surely he could keep his dignity intact.

“Why do you hate it?”

“The colors are overly saturated, the light sources make no sense, there’s an odd tension where the string is too close to the leg, don’t get me started on the feet” Bakugo lists “but most of all it's cliché, I detest the subject matter.”

“Figurative painting?” Red asks.

“Soulmates,” Bakugo corrects “this artist is torn up about not having a soulmate but there are bigger issues in the world.”

“Should those problems discredit how they feel? It seems wrong to compare pain.”

“Eh doesn’t matter, they’ll be in my gallery soon enough,” Bakugo shrugs.

“Why would you want their work in your gallery if you hate it?” Red tilts his head at him confused.

“I want it because I hate it,” Bakugo tells him “That I felt anything at all means they’re doing something right. If anything, they should make more just like this, maybe a triptych. I would loathe a triptych.”

Red bubbles up with laughter and Bakugo smiles but it fades as the guy holds out his hand to him.

“You’re fascinating,” Red says. It comes out shyly like he’s embarrassed by his own explanation of his actions.

Bakugo swallows harshly staring at the raised hand offered out to him. He knows that this guy wants to check if they’re soulmates but he doesn’t care to find out. He never checks anymore and would think after announcing his distaste that Red wouldn’t be interested. Apparently, that’s not the case.

Red seems to pick up on his discomfort having been left hanging for too long. He slides his hand back into his pocket and Bakugo relaxes releasing a deep sigh of relief. Some people were pushy, insistent on finding out even though there was only a slim chance of a match, another thing he hated about soulmates.

“Could I at least get your name?” Red asks with a bright smile undeterred by the rejection.

“Bakugo. Katsuki Bakugo,” He could at least give him that.

“Well Katsuki, is there anything you liked about the painting?”

For an installer he was awfully taken by that painting, Bakugo frowns, but he looks once more at the mess of color and shapes hanging on the wall, a disgrace to his eyes. Hmmm, there is one element he does like.

“That’s a nice ass they painted,” Bakugo declares.

Red seems to have an immediate visceral reaction with a range of emotions from shock as his eyes widen, to flustered as his skin suffuses completely red. Bakugo laughs amused by how he’s become all one hue. Red clothes, red face, red hair.

Red.

Bakugo turns away not bothering to get the guy’s name. If they should meet again, it would be because of fate, not because he chose to be in a place he shouldn’t be.

Chapter Text

It was an understatement to say the news he read on his phone in the morning had bothered him. In the shower, All Might, waiting in line at his normal coffee shop, All Might, freezing as he’d walked to work, All Might. It bothered him more than the whine of the old elevator he rode to get to his gallery on top of the twenty-floor building he was in.

Bakugo hadn’t previously cared about All Might too much when the famous art collector was only buying art to donate. He just kept tabs enough to try to be ahead of the curve for when he’d eventually sell a piece to him. He didn’t know when that would be but knew the cards were in his future. It was just starting in December his patterns had changed and the art world was buzzing like a hive of gossiping bees. Every morning a new story would break about All Might’s buying activity so he couldn't avoid it.

At work, he had problems focusing on going through the artist portfolios submitted to his inbox. It was an activity he generally enjoyed especially when they piled up over the weekend. He would drink his coffee slowly as he sifted through the flood of new messages until he hit his lunch break.

After lunch, he’d come back and check in with his team who were usually too competent for his liking. They never needed much help with their actual jobs outside of a simple signature of approval for them to move ahead with their tasks. So, he’d finish off the rest of the art submissions and usually call it a day.

 One portfolio had stuck out to him today, but not because he wanted their art in his gallery.

Though the name of his gallery, Explosive, might suggest otherwise, he strayed from pieces that were too loud. In this artist's case, the skeletons and caskets in the paintings were wholly unappealing to him. He wouldn’t have minded death as the subject matter if it were handled with nuance but it wasn’t.

It seemed like the same old regular shock value art that he received all the time. Today it was certainly quite the shock though as it had given him an epiphany. Looking through the different pieces made gears start to click and turn together in his head. The case of All Might which had gone cold numerous times he had now solved.

His realization had him practically skipping to the private practice of his therapist after work. He knew there would be gripes and moans to come from his therapist but thinking about it made him smile larger. He climbed the steps to the brownstone with ease and whisked open the door that had a gold plate filled with professional names on it.

He gives a nod to the receptionist and hurries up a flight of carpeted stairs to turn a corner down a plain hallway with some terrible stock photography hanging on the walls. It’s not long before he’s face to face with a magenta door. He knocks thrice and without the door being fully open he blurts out the big news.

“He’s dying!”

“Huh, who is dying?!”

“All Might,” Bakugo says excitedly shoving past her to get into the office.

He takes a deep breath once in the space and it takes him a second to figure out the scent. It permeates the whole room and he easily gets the notes of cinnamon but what else was in it? Upon a second deep inhale he realizes it’s apples. Today was proving to be a good day to solve mysteries.

He knew she would change the air freshener again for the holidays but he’s surprised he likes this smell. The citrus ones were okay, fresh linen was his favorite, and surprisingly he hated vanilla. If he had to rank apples and cinnamon he would put it safely in third place.

“Not this again,” her voice sounds tired.

“I’m right this time,” Bakugo says not backing down “I’ve never been surer than I am right now.”

He wriggles out of his winter coat and throws it over a dark leather armchair. Then he crosses the pink funky geometric rug and glass coffee table to get to a large light brown sofa. After shoving aside throw pillows embroidered with snowflakes, he takes a seat. He sinks immediately into the soft cushions and is tempted to remove his uncomfortable work shoes so he can lie down fully.

“Is this really what you want to talk about at our last session?” She asks as she shuts the door to the office.

Her chestnut bob bounces as she walks over to grab a notebook and pen from her desk. Then she comes to sit down at another leather chair across from him. Her heels slip off and one at a time she pulls up each navy stocking covered leg under her silky petal pink dress.

“It doesn’t have to be our last session,” he grumbles.

“Bakugo,” Ochako gives him a look that is a warning more so than her tone.

“Why else would he do it?” Bakugo says switching back to the original topic at hand.

“Because of altruism, guilt, or even publicity,” Ochako supplies as she did every time he brought it up.

“Nah, if he wanted attention he wouldn’t be hiding from the public,” Bakugo says.

“Is he hiding if everyone knows his name and what he’s done?” Ochako questions.

This was the problem with therapists, they always asked unnecessary questions that didn’t mean anything.

“All Might is an alias, the man has millions to drop on art, but nobody even knows what he looks like,” Bakugo says “not one photograph, not one slip-up on his part.”

“Maybe he’s self-conscious and doesn’t want the pressure of being a public figure pushed on him,” She says “People like privacy.”

“Or maybe he’s dying,” Bakugo tells her “Maybe he’s too sickly to appear in public in the first place.”

“Didn’t you tell me he’s not very old, it would be quite sad if that was the case,” She frowns.

“It’s not like I want him to be dying,” Bakugo says “I just have a feeling he’s doing this Christmas countdown art thing for a reason.”

“Who was it today?” Ochako asks tapping her pen against a fresh page of her notebook.

“Best Jeanist,” Bakugo says mindlessly picking at a thread unraveling at the sleeve of his red sweater “He bought 21 custom hand-sewn dolls from an in-house artists at their gallery.”

“And where’s he donating them?”

“A children’s hospital,” Bakugo informs frowning as he yanks the red thread and it unravels more.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Ochako gushes “though why wouldn’t he just donate money to them directly?”

“That’s the thing!” Bakugo starts straightening up on the couch “He did. He has been giving art and money away with every donation in December so far, hence-“

“He’s dying,” She finishes for him.

“He’s dying,” Bakugo nods.

“I don’t think gift-giving is enough proof,” Ochako says jotting something down in her notebook “Everyone is more charitable around the holidays.”

“It’s been five days of this and look at where he’s been donating,” Bakugo says “25 landscape paintings to a local homeless shelter, 24 matryoshka dolls to a women’s clinic, 23 photographs of families to a DNA research company, 22 plaster hands to a rehab center, and now 21 artisan dolls to a children’s hospital.”

“All of which are noble causes that anyone can and should donate to, so what’s your point?” She asks.

“Every single one of those places helps save lives in their own way. He’s a dying man whose last wish is to save as many lives as he can,” Bakugo says. It’s so clear he doesn’t get how she’s not seeing it.

“Seek help,” Ochako says “Plenty of local non-profits help save lives that doesn’t mean All Might is dying.”

“You are my help, you’re my therapists,” Bakugo reminds her.

“Yes, and I have been for a year but because of a conflict of interest, today is our last session. You’re not taking this seriously. We should be focused on you and how you’ll be moving forward; not this private rich superhero you’re obsessed with.”

“I’m not obsessed and what do you care where I end up?” Bakugo scoffs “You’re just like Aizawa, you don’t think I need this anyway. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be on your couch and now you’re giving up on me too.”

“Nobody is giving up on you,” Ochako sighs setting down her notebook on the coffee table “You were with Aizawa for four years. Bakugo, that’s a lot of time for self-improvement, to recognize your problems, and to find strategies to help you every day. Aizawa believes in you, that’s why he wanted to stop seeing you, not because he gave up.”

Bakugo already knew his last therapist, Aizawa, was cutting him off for that reason. They had talked about it extensively before he left so there wouldn’t be any hard feelings. He’d been referred to Ochako only because he didn’t want to stop going to therapy and Aizawa didn’t see how he could further help him. Halfway through their year, Ochako seemed to come to the same conclusions about him as Aizawa did. That wasn’t why they were parting ways though.

“I believe in you too and I’ll still be here if you need me,” She says “I’ll forever be grateful that you were my client Bakugo because if it wasn’t for you-”

“Don’t say it,” Bakugo pinches the brim of his nose whilst waving his other hand quickly “It’s not like I wanted it to happen.”

“I wouldn’t have found my soulmate!” She continues dreamily like she was whisked away floating in the clouds.

“You had to say it,” Bakugo shakes his head, both hands flying up annoyed.

He didn’t want to hear her thanks one more time than he already had. Other than existing he played absolutely no role in finding her soulmate. Hell, she was the one who suggested that bringing his childhood friend Deku to a session might help him in the first place.

It’s not like he purposely tripped the shitty nerd outside of her office that day. Deku was always clumsy and Ochako had just been there to catch him and they touched hands. Then suddenly they were crying and instead of green and instead of brown there was hazel.

He had been just as surprised as they were but somehow it made sense that two people who were both anomalies ended up together. That was two months ago and now that they were getting serious Bakugo was getting the shit end of the deal.

Ochako already knew more than she wanted about Deku’s past because of him. Now that the happy couple was moving in together Ochako had felt too close to the situation to handle Bakugo as a client impartially. He knew she was doing the right thing but it didn’t make it feel any less crappy.

“I know on the inside you’re happy for me, for both of us,” Ochako smiles “So let’s get back to business, did you talk to any of the people I referred you to?”

“Yes I did, that Monoma guy needs more therapy than I do. I’m pretty sure he’s a narcissist.”

“It might take some time to warm up to him but he’s very good at what he does.”

“Tsss funny story, I already told him he’ll never get a cent from me,” Bakugo shrugs.

“Bakugo!”

“It’s true, I’d end up falling back into how I was if I had to sit with him once a week,” Bakugo groans “I’d probably knock his lights out the first week.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Ochako giggles shaking her head.

“He’s got a punchable looking face,” Bakugo adds recalling the shifty eyes and nefarious smile.

Ochako laughs harder and it’s light, airy, just like she is. If he hadn’t been her client and if the topic of his sessions wasn’t her soulmate, he probably would have fallen for her. He liked poking fun at her round face and annoying optimism that reminded him of a certain someone.

She got on his case a lot but had been a great therapist even if he treated the sessions like they were old friends catching up. He’d talk about his life each week and sometimes create issues where there weren’t any just to see what she’d say. He’s pretty sure she was aware of what he was doing but she’d lead him to think about the situation in a more fruitful way nonetheless.

He liked her because she was a straight shooter a lot like Aizawa as both seemed to operate on tough love. They’d tell him what he needed to hear, not just what he wanted to hear to keep him as a client.

“How about any of the others?” Ochako finally asks with a smile.

“No, I’ve been busy with work but I’ll make the calls.”

“Good, well I guess the last thing we can do is talk about your current goals before we part ways. How are you doing with respecting authority?”

Bakugo thinks about how last week he snuck into Endeavor’s gallery to view their showroom. He looks at Ochako’s wide expectant hazel eyes and saccharine smile. It was his last session; shouldn’t he be showing some growth?

“I’m doing great on that front,” he says.

Her eyes narrow on him and his eyes narrow back on her and they are both quiet. The silence stretches between them and damn her, his eyes are going to start watering.

“Fine,” Bakugo blinks first “I went to one closed gallery show, that was it.” Endeavor Gallery was possibly the lowest-stakes rule he’s ever broken.

She should be happy he gave up the more ridiculous outings already. He no longer went to clubs on their soulmates-only nights even though everyone knew that’s when they had the best drinks. He didn’t bother members at the fancy gym near his place to be a plus one, and the last time he talked his way backstage at a concert was ages ago.

“When you went to the gallery did you tell any lies to get what you wanted?”

“Not technically, no,” Bakugo evades her eyes. He didn’t explicitly say he’d known Endeavor but had just implied that he did through connections. It was their guard dog’s fault for being so easy to manipulate.

“What does that even mean Bakugo?”

“It means I let a person make assumptions and didn’t necessarily correct them,” He clarifies.

“I’d still count that as lying and I think you do too,” she says.

“No, I don’t,” Bakugo stands up abruptly “That’s stupid, this session is over.”

“Bakugo you can’t just lie to people to get what you want,” Ochako says “Being honest will help you achieve all the same things. You can’t keep running away.”

“Watch me!” He says defiantly grabbing his jacket from the chair and rushing to the door.

Some fucking therapist she was! He was glad they were through.

“I promise this is what’s best for you!” Ochako calls though she doesn’t move to stop him from leaving.

“Your face looks rounder than usual today!” He shouts on his way out slamming her door.

“Katsuki?”

It had to be karma, not fate.

Bakugo was sure that the only reason he was in this situation was because he had shouted at Ochako. He left his therapy session early which means ordinarily he would still be on that sofa. He wouldn’t have stopped in this convenience store a block from his place and run into him.

Why did it feel so good to hear his name from him though?

His reaction is delayed eyes roaming over the man standing before him. Same shitty hair, a black puffer jacket, a red sweatshirt but not orangish red like Bakugo’s knit sweater and jersey shorts…

“You’re one of those,” Bakugo says without thinking.

“One of what?” Red asks following his eyes down to his legs.

“Guys who wear shorts during the winter,” Bakugo says glancing back up “an idiot.”

“Dude, that’s so rude!” Red gasps and then he smiles that same toothy grin Bakugo remembers from the gallery “I don’t usually let people call me an idiot until the third time we run into each other.”

“Heh,” Bakugo snorts “What happens the third time?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” Red says flustered not expecting to need an answer “m-maybe we literally run into each other.”

Red slaps his hands together unceremoniously to make his point and Bakugo bites back a laugh.

“In that case let’s hope we don’t meet again Red,” Bakugo smirks plucking a bag of extra hot chips from the shelf in front of them.

“Red? Is that- am I Red?” Red peers at him curiously his eyes now saucers.

Bakugo stills and he instantly feels his face heat up at the slip-up. It doesn’t help that Red beams at him eyes crinkling with his smile because of the mistake too. It’s like Bakugo can see the invisible tail wagging behind him in excitement.

“Yeah but it’s nothing, I just didn’t know your name,” Bakugo mumbles carefully stepping around him in the aisle to head to the front of the store and get in line.

He hears the crinkling of a chip bag and then footsteps behind him.

“It’s Eijirou Kirishima.”

“I didn’t ask,” Bakugo says not turning back.

“You should know for next time,” comes the confident reply like it’s a sure thing that they’ll meet again.

Bakugo isn’t so sure they will but he turns back to look at him in acknowledgement. However, Re- Kirishima isn’t looking at him. He’s staring up the line chin poking out as he looks ahead from the side. When Kirishima’s gaze finally does drop down to him the redhead starts to lean in closer. The guy couldn’t be more than a hair taller than him, Bakugo thinks, so why did he feel like an ant?

He forgets momentarily that he should be alarmed that Kirishima’s leaning into him but this is the second time it has happened so it feels normal.

“That cashier, she’s checked two people out,” Kirishima whispers to him.

Dang, so he truly did always smell like a goddamn forest is all that flows through Bakugo’s mind.

He turns back around quickly to avoid analyzing why this guy smelled so good but he’s already rearranging the ranks of the scents in his head to put Kirishima in first place. He then tries to get a look at the cashier but he doesn’t see anything special. She’s supposed to check people out, that’s her job, was she being slow about it or something?

She has blonde hair with bangs and buns tightly pulled to each side of her head that are spiked crazier than Kirishima’s hair. He wonders if Kirishima took notice of her because he liked her. His voice had sounded like it carried an edge of caution though.

As Bakugo’s turn comes, he reaches for his wallet, and Kirishima’s words ring in his head.

She’s checked two people out.

And again as he reaches for the bills in his wallet.

Checked two people.

Bakugo came to this place all the time since it was near his apartment and he’d never seen this worker before. She was new.

Checked.

His eyes widen as he realizes it far too late having seen her eyes are grey. He is barely able to slide his hand to the tail end of the bills in time as he forks them over. The cashier tries to brush a finger against his so he pulls his hand away dropping the money.

Kirishima had been trying to warn him.

The cashier blushes meeting his eyes as she slides back his small amount of change with his receipt on the counter. He stuffs everything in his pocket but doesn’t leave right away. He finds himself lingering to the side watching Kirishima’s transaction as it takes place.

He holds his breath as the cashier touches Kirishima’s hand but nothing happens so the girl frowns. It turns out they’re not soulmates. Bakugo lets out the breath he was holding in but it doesn’t help him cope with the fact that he had cared. He wanted to know the outcome enough to stand there and wait for Kirishima to pay.

Bakugo hardly knew him enough to care, they hadn’t even arrived together, yet there he stood close enough to observe the situation. He saw how Kirishima smiled at the cashier easily and then shrugged after they touched as if to say ‘too bad’ when they weren’t a match, and it made Bakugo feel a little annoyed.

People checked all the time, he knew that it shouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest. Why had he hovered in anticipation at seeing if these two strangers were a match? Right as he decides he should be disappearing Kirishima finishes up and looks at him.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Kirishima says blinding him with his smile.

“I wasn’t waiting for you. I was looking at my receipt,” Bakugo mutters though they both know it’s not true since he doesn’t even have it out.

All right he’s done with embarrassing himself, he heads to the exit quickly bursting through the door so fast the bell on it chimes loudly.

Running away again?

The voice in his head, which is mostly likely the fault of Ochako, taunts him and forces him to stop in his tracks outside the store. Yes, he wants to tell the voice since he should never have waited in the first place. He should be back at his apartment right this minute sending chips to their eternal slumber in his stomach.

“I thought you would be a chocolate type,” Kirishima says upon having caught up to him.

“What?” Bakugo questions. He fidgets with the bag of chips in his hand while thinking of a way to flee.

“Dark chocolate specifically with a raspberry- no- sea salt caramel filling but flamin’ hot chips sort of suits you too,” Kirishima tells him eyeing the bag of chips in his hand. Kirishima ponders what type of snack consumer he is like the answer will win him a Nobel prize.

“And I thought you were someone who wears weather-appropriate clothes,” Bakugo fires back.

“I am Katsuki,” Kirishima laughs “Honestly, I was in a bit of a hurry today.”

That’s obviously Bakugo’s cue to continue the conversation if he wants, to question him further and discover why he was in a rush, but he’s so distracted by how Kirishima says his name. Every time it’s in such an overly familiar and friendly way that he hasn’t even told him once to stop doing it. Aside from his parents nobody even calls him Katsuki.

“I know you understand what it’s like to be in a rush,” Kirishima continues pointing at him “It seems you always have someplace more important to be, than with me.”

“I’m talking to you right now aren’t I,” Bakugo says fighting for it to not come out defensive.

Kirishima’s nose crinkles up “But you’d rather leave right?”

Bakugo’s eyes widen at the question. Had he noticed how Bakugo zoned out a little, fiddled too much with his chips enough to show his discomfort, or somehow knew his one foot pointed away was in the direction he’d be leaving?

“Yeah, I’d rather leave,” Bakugo admits honestly.

He wanted to leave so so badly. His brain was screaming at him that he needed to get as far away as possible from this person. His brain said to ignore whatever was going on in his heart and gut that was telling him to do the opposite. The part of Bakugo that tethered him near the register waiting, that asked him why he was running away from a completely harmless person, and begged him to reach out his hand when Kirishima said his name fondly so he could find out if they were soulmates.

He had smothered the thought.

He could nip his feelings of wanting to know if they stayed strangers in an awkward small talk phase.

It’s why his brain said to scram while he still had the chance.

“That’s what I admire about you Katsuki, you know what you want,” Kirishima says “I realized that at the gallery where we first met.”

Fuck, it was like Kirishima was doing it on purpose. No Bakugo would not get attached to the overly familiar way Kirishima uses his name, the bright smile, or even brighter laughter that occasionally accompanies it.

“I should get going,” Bakugo gulps.

“I won’t hold you,” Kirishima grins “Next time we see each other I hope you have time to talk!”

As if that would happen. The only way Bakugo was going to get to know Kirishima was if they were trapped in a room together against his will. He bids Kirishima farewell with a nod and starts to step away.

“ Ooo!” Kirishima shouts “Don’t forget my name. It’s-”

“Eijirou Kirishima, I know,” Bakugo says waving a hand behind his head.

He's sure he's not going to forget it. 

Chapter Text

“There is a lot on the agenda coming up but I am going to try to make this meeting brief.” Bakugo talks as all his employees shuffle into their largest meeting room.

Todoroki, Momo, and Deku sit on one side of a large square table. Sero, Ojiro, Koda, Sato and Shoji group up on the other side. Besides Todoroki everyone looks like half asleep zombies. Bakugo hasn’t even pulled his presentation material up and has seen two people yawn.

He thought this might happens so he disperses his secret weapon. He slides two boxes of donuts onto the table and then retrieves the brewed coffee he had finished making before they arrived. Hands go flying for the food and soon everyone is munching quietly while looking to the front of the room.

With their full attention he begins to open his mouth again but is immediately interrupted.

“Before you start, can I know what donut shop you get these from?” Momo asks “I’ve been to all the ones nearby but none of them taste the same as these.”

“It’s a secret,” Bakugo says “anything else before we get started?”

His question is met with silence.

“Great, first on the list- we have finalized a name for the upcoming show,” Bakugo says with a click to change the slide.

Beholden is written in a fancy lettering on the screen and his captive audience nods.

“Item two,” Bakugo continues with another click “this show is going to be upon us faster than you all think. Two weeks is not a lot of time so do not underestimate any task. Instead of putting something off for later consider asking for help to get what you need done by our deadlines.”

There are more nods as they observe the timeline of events he’s made up on the screen.

“Third,” Bakugo continues “as always, we will be closed from the 23rd of December to January 2nd. Please come back refreshed and ready to work because as you know we will be planning out the next years exhibits and I’ll be revising some submission guidelines.”

He doesn’t get any nods this time, just blank bored stares. None of them were new to the team so he guesses he should stop including this slide. Their calendars were already blocked out digitally for the break but he thought it would be a good reminder.

“Lastly,” Bakugo brings up his last slide decorated with a gif of a dancing snowman wearing sunglasses “the holiday party is on the 22nd and you can put your hand down Deku. No, we will not be having an ugly sweater contest this year.”

A chorus of boos assaults his ears though his whole team is nothing but smiles.

“You’re just mad you won last year,” Sero chimes in.

“I didn’t even come dressed for it,” Bakugo says slamming a fist on the table “I know you all voted for me just to piss me off. Well, it worked, no ugly sweater contest!”

“I didn’t vote for you,” Deku says proudly.

“Why not change the format so we don’t have to write in names,” Todoroki suggests “It’ll be less confusing that way. I genuinely thought you were participating.”

The whole table fights to not smile or laugh and they don’t do very good job. Bakugo has never strangled an employee but half and half was clearly vying to be the first. “That’s funny coming from a guy whose head looks like a candy cane,” he fires back.

“Low blow,” Sero says.

“That concludes our meeting,” Bakugo adds whilst glaring at Todoroki “Everyone take your coffee and donuts and get out.”

His harsh tone has them all scrambling. They grab their last treats and noisily exit the room chattering with one another. The only person who stays back is Sero.

“After lunch can you help me with something?” Sero asks.

“Only if you leave in the next five seconds,” Bakugo rubs his temple.

“Cool, thanks!” comes the chipper reply and then the guy is out the door.

Finally alone Bakugo takes a survey of the few donuts that are left. He picks out a chocolate frosted with caramel drizzle to eat. It’s like a cloud in his mouth so soft and sickly sweet. He woke up so early to finish making then that he’s a bit tired now.

Hopefully come lunchtime he would have a bit more energy. He’s sure he would need it for whatever Sero wanted help with.

Bakugo hands were aching as he tightly gripped the wood frame of a heavy painting.

“A little higher,” Momo says hands poised on her hips and brows angled downward analytically.

Sero who holds up the other side of painting quickly looks over at him from behind the frame, his head out of view.

“I swear this is the same place it just was,” Sero whispers to him.

“I heard that!” Momo calls.

Sero’s who is taller than him has no problem pulling up some and the weight of the painting becomes lighter in Bakugo’s palm for a moment. It sadly is only a moment as he has to adjust to meet the same level. The burn in his thighs takes precedence to the pain in his hands and now they are both glaring at Momo.

“That’s good,” Momo smiles seemingly oblivious to their pain and she marches up to them marking the white wall with a fine pencil line.

He and Sero carefully let the painting slide down to the tarp covered floor and prop it against the wall.

“It actually needs to be a bit higher than where I marked so really it’s not the same place,” Momo informs them placing her finger along the wall slightly above the line.

“You got it boss,” Sero tells her as he borrows her pencil and draws a line straight atop her finger. He writes out a reminder note to himself directly on the wall too.

Bakugo glares at him as he flexes his fingers to regain some feeling in them.

“What?” Sero asks with a sly smile “I always erase before hanging pieces, don’t let it bother you.”

“You know what you said,” Bakugo shakes his head.

“She’s your curator, I answer to her when it comes to placing anything on these walls,” Sero says folding his arms.

“And she answers to me,” Bakugo says annoyed “I’m your boss.”

“No, you’re my big boss,” Sero says “She’s my boss.”

“Careful,” Momo says “the big boss might throw you off his gift list this year.”

Sero’s shoulders slump and he looks at him with wide puppy dog eyes “I forgot this is the one month we have to be extra nice to you.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes at the remark. He had a feeling they were all being suspiciously nice to him after the meeting this morning.

They were so unusually happy to see him when he did brief check ins on their work. They also let him criticize or complain without the usual snarky comebacks. They were all up to no good for one reason or another but he didn’t think it was all over gifts.

He guessed he should have been concerned when he saw the shift in attitude during the meeting. Their faces had lit up and their posture changed to something more attentive-jolly as he announced the holiday party. It was the third year in a row they were having a party and the plans grew bigger each year.

His team had a lot going on this month preparing for a new show in the weeks to come. They were acquiring work, arranging it, and deciding on the style for the opening of the show as well as revamping the website. There was a tight deadline for the opening and after that they could all relax for a bit.

He decided to put the holiday party a day after their new show opened. It was meant to be a reward for all their hard work and to celebrate the year together. He figured no matter the stress they could be motivated by the party at the end as well as their much-needed breaks.

“I fear any special treatment from this lot, as you all practically share braincells,” Bakugo says.

“So you say, but…how do I put this nicely,” Momo says to him lips pursing together. Her whole body turns to Sero looking for help.

“We all think you hate us,” Sero says bluntly “but then every year you give the most thoughtful individualized gifts and it feels like you know us better than we know ourselves.”

“Why would I keep people around that I hate?” Bakugo sighs though secretly he’s happy.

He knew he was good at picking out gifts for everyone. He rather enjoyed basking in the thanks and stream of compliments after they opened them. It was the only good part about having an office party.

“Yes you hired us because we’re phenomenal at our jobs and way more obviously due to…” Momo grows quiet at Sero signaling quickly with a hand across his throat to stop.

“Due to what?” Bakugo questions confused looking between the two of them.

“It’s nothing,” Momo sputters out “the important thing is you give the best gifts and we’re all looking forward to it!”

That better be all Bakugo thinks to himself but he’s not even slightly convinced of it.

“Speaking of gifts,” Sero says “Do you want to do me huge favor and reject your head curators plans for tomorrow?”

“No can do,” Bakugo grins “It’s your own fault for not addressing me as your boss.”

“Big boss is above boss!” Sero says quickly “but seriously my team is dismantling half the gallery tomorrow. At least approve me getting some extra hands for the job.”

“How many extra hands?” Bakugo asks though he knows he’ll approve any number. He can’t be assed with stepping in to help place another painting.

“Even adding one person would be huge,” Sero says.

“Perfect, one it is. Request approved,” Bakugo says.

“He’s so much nicer around this time of year it gives me chills,” Sero fakes being cold and rubs his arms.

“I’m always nice,” Bakugo says.

Sero and Momo both make a face at him then turn to each other as if to say who’s going to tell him.

“You’re both off my list,” Bakugo decides and he starts to walk away as they whine out their apologies.

He makes his way through the showroom to get to the front entrance of the gallery. A large white front desk or rather a squarish slab of concrete marks the entry and Deku and Todoroki stand behind it chatting.

Bakugo should remind them that he’s paying for their time but it’s pointless. He knows they’re waiting around for him and Deku was already taking on extra work by manning the front desk. A full staff meeting in the morning and another after lunch that excluded the installation team was a lot to ask too. He’s ready to call together the regular meeting at the front desk when Momo finally catches up to him. She probably realized where he was headed when he stormed off.

As they both approach the white desk Todoroki and Deku both fall silent. Then suddenly Todoroki pulls out a rectangular container wrapped in a silky floral-patterned cloth.

“Thank you for the lunch today. It was great,” Todoroki tells Momo offering her back the bento box.

Why did she make him lunch?

Bakugo observes how a blush creeps up the woman’s cheeks as she takes the container back.

“I can make another tomorrow if you’d like,” Momo says her voice seeming higher than usual.

“I’d like that,” Todorki says “but I don’t want to be at all an inconvenience to you.”

“It absolutely would be no trouble,” Momo rushes to say with a smile “I tend to make too much for myself to begin with, so I’m happy to share.”

Yet, she’s never shared with any of them before. What was going on with them?

Bakugo can’t put his finger on it but he doesn’t like the way they’re looking at each other or the way they are talking. It’s as if he and Deku are invisible and they only have eyes for each other.

“If you insist,” Todoroki says the tiniest smile appearing on his face that means the world to anyone who knew him.

Bakugo knew him and that’s why he frowns.

“Our afternoon meeting is cancelled,” Bakugo announces to the group and suddenly all eyes are on him.

“But Deku, I need to talk to you in my office,” Bakugo adds quickly pointing at his door right behind the desk.

“Yes sir, Kacchan sir,” Deku salutes him hurrying around the desk to his office door.

“Don’t call me sir and don’t salute me!” Bakugo says following him and he scans his key card to unlock his office door.

Deku struggles with the handle so Bakugo scans his card over again and tries it himself. It easily pops open and they stumble into the office together. Bakugo pulls the door shut and Deku flicks on the light.

Bakugo runs over to the singular window covered by curtains and motions Deku to follow. He opens just a sliver of the drapes so he can see the view of the front desk. He watches as Momo and Todoroki smile awkwardly at one another while left alone and continue talking.

“I think my head curator is sleeping with the guy who updates the gallery’s website,” Bakugo informs Deku as he watches the desk outside his office like a hawk.

“W-what makes you think that?” Deku stammers somewhere off to his side.

“Clearly because there is something weird as shit going on with them,” Bakugo says looking at how Todoroki leans over the desk some to be closer to Momo as they talk.

Bakugo pulls Deku towards him so he can look through the gap as well. Deku’s head replaces his in the opening and Bakugo waits patiently for an analysis.

“They’re only talking,” Deku says after less than a minute of spying at the window “I don’t think that’s strange since they’re co-workers.”

“She made him lunch and don’t you think that their body language is sort of…flirty,” Bakugo says leaning his head over the bird nest that Deku calls a hairstyle.

Bakugo catches how Momo pushes a piece a hair behind her ear and laughs at something Todoroki has said. Which is obviously extremely suspicious because there is no way Todoroki can even be intentionally funny.

“I- um- maybe,” Deku says “Would it be bad if they were dating?”

Bakugo swiftly shuts the shades afraid of getting caught as Momo starts to look up in the direction of his office.

“Would it be bad?” Bakugo repeats “It would be extremely bad!”

He marches over to his desk chair and plops down “Catastrophically bad! What if their feelings change all of a sudden and they want to talk to the Human Resources department to file for harassment.”

Deku turns from the window and comes to sit down at the chair in front of his desk. His nose crinkle’s up “Kacchan you are the HR department.”

“Don’t you think I know that,” Bakugo groans miserably “That’s why it’s an issue. I don’t want those two in out of my office telling me about their personal issues with each other.”

“I doubt either of them are the type to do that,” Deku says aimlessly flipping over the sand hourglass on his desk.

“It’s always the quiet types,” Bakugo continues “They probably have already done who knows what in the storage closets here.”

“Shouto would never instigate anything at work!” Deku gasps.

“At work, outside of work, I don’t want him instigating anything, anywhere, at any time,” Bakugo frowns crossing his arms.

“He’s not even sure if she likes him,” Deku says flipping the hourglass once more before the other side has even emptied.

“Oh my,” Bakugo looks at him shocked and he stands up from his chair “You talked to him about this already didn’t you!”

Deku’s eyes grow wide and he panics rapidly flailing his hands “Y-yes but not for long, I swear! Shouto’s my friend so of course we talk and he came to me for advice.”

“Advice on what? And I’m his friend too why didn’t he come to me,” Bakugo demands.

“He probably didn’t ask you because-“

“Don’t actually answer that it was rhetorical,” Bakugo says planting back into his seat with a sigh.

“Okay,” Deku smiles “As far as advice he wanted my help choosing a nice place to go on a date.”

“He wants to plan a date but isn’t sure if she likes him?” Bakugo questions “How is that even possible?”

“Seeing if she would agree to go on the date was part of our plan to find out her true feelings,” Deku says “Our hypothesis was if she agrees then she likes him and if she turns him down then she doesn’t.”

Bakugo waits for Deku to tell him that he’s joking but nothing comes. How could these people he hired be so damn smart and also complete idiots is beyond him. If they had come to Bakugo for advice, which at this point they would need to beg him to get involved, he would’ve told them that their plan was dumb.

That whatever that lunch bullshit was he had just witnessed, was far more convincing of Momo’s feelings than agreeing to a date would ever be. Only Half and Half along with Deku’s help would turn asking someone out into a scientific experiment.

Bakugo was by no means a body language expert but he didn’t need to be. He felt enough tension to dissuade him from holding a meeting and having to sit in their presence longer. That was evidence enough as is.

“Did he already ask her out?” Bakugo asks curious. Just how much was he missing by locking himself in his office for half the day?

“Not yet, I suggested that he take her to see The Nutcracker while it’s showing and he’s going to ask her to see it with him next week,” Deku says “I’m taking Uraraka to see it next week too.”

“You planned a double date with them and tried to tell me in my office that nothing was going on,” Bakugo says shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s not a double date since she hasn’t agreed yet and also, we’re going different nights,” Deku says “You should also go see it! I read the reviews for the ballet company and they were excellent.”

“I’m not going to watch a ballet by myself,” Bakugo grumbles “You know what, I think you’re overstaying your welcome in my office.”

“You asked me to come here,” Deku reminds him “Which by the way, was there anything important you wanted to talk about or did you just need an excuse to spy on our friends.” Deku already knows which one it is evident by how he rises from his seat to leave.

“Oh, since we didn’t have our daily afternoon meeting,” Deku continues stopped in front of his door “I wanted to remind you the artist you liked from Endeavor’s gallery is stopping by tomorrow.”

“Is there a reason you can’t handle their visit?” Bakugo asks.

“They’ve already signed a contract with us but they wanted to see the gallery in person and specifically asked to meet with you,” Deku says “Artists can be sort of eccentric and protective of their work so I think all they want is to get a feel for our space and who we are.”

It wasn’t just some artists. Bakugo felt most creatives were quirky in different ways. He admittedly wasn’t great at handling the outreach portion of his job. Deku on the other hand was impossible to unlike and knew exactly what to say to help people.

Bakugo’s strength was selling art and he could convince any person to spend 70,000 on an original one of one block print. He had no problem explaining the significance of an artist’s vision, their backstory, potential, and how there was no price anyone could truly put on a piece of artwork but that he would try to give a fair evaluation.

However, he couldn’t help an artist reach their full potential. He wasn’t comforting when they were dealing with art block and couldn’t inspire anyone to continue to create. That should have come with professionalism but it was a surprising amount cases where artists parted ways because of that.

Deku on the other hand had a special touch in solving those kinds of problems. At times Bakugo even found himself envious of it but he acknowledged even for Deku it didn’t come without hard work. Bakugo hadn’t hired each person on his staff because they were the best, but because they all had something he lacked.

Momo had a great sense for objects and how to place works of art together and create meaning in a space. Todoroki’s graphic design sense could only be described as timeless. Plus, the guy knew enough programming to handle the whole look and functioning of their website.

Even Bakugo could admit Sero and his team of grunts were highly organized and efficient at installing art and dismantling it. That team handled storing, packaging and shipments of the artworks too.

Bakugo’s gallery ran like a purebred greyhound and his team had given him a sense of pride in life. They made him want to hold himself to a standard higher than the one he already set for himself. That’s why it was so important to him to secure amazing artist and get bids from serious buyers.

“If Endeavor’s artist wants to meet me that’s fine,” Bakugo declares “I’ll show them exactly who we are.”

“Great,” Deku smiles a tad uneasy “I sent you an email with their portfolio already but please keep in mind they still have three days to rescind the contract.”

“What are you trying to say?” Bakugo tilts his head.

Deku looks at him hesitantly “I want what’s best for the gallery and I know you can handle welcoming in a new artist. However, it’s been a long time since you’ve sought out a specific artist instead of pulling one from an application. It’s a possibility they could still change their mind is all.”

Bakugo can tell there is an underlying ‘Don’t get your hopes up in securing them’ to what Deku is telling him. It’s annoying that he feels like Deku already assessed he was ill fit for the task or something. Bakugo knows he isn’t good at taking personal criticism and he worked incredibly hard to change that over the years.

He did see progress and found he was better at recognizing negative feelings building up in him. He knew Deku hadn’t literally implied he was incapable of securing the artist he wanted but that’s how it felt. In fact, Deku had said the opposite. It was all in Bakugo’s head that he should be offended.

Bakugo approved their artist and he was sure he could sweet talk anyone into an agreement. He was confident in his abilities but now he was overthinking one person rescinding their contract. A seed of doubt was sprouting somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Bakugo says “I’ll try to be the reason they stay instead of reconsider.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Deku smiles at him genuinely “They were actually pretty adamant about wanting you specifically to show them around.”

Deku steps out of his office shutting the door on his way and Bakugo freely lets out a sigh. See he wants to tell his brain Deku wasn’t calling him incompetent. He needed to stop analyzing everything at work and let things be.

He finds the email Deku sent him and it’s very thorough. He ignores the paragraphs of background information since he’d only need that when it came to selling. He scrolls to the end where he finds the link to their portfolio. A portfolio should tell him everything he wanted to know about the person he would meet tomorrow. It was the true first impression.

The landing page is a pale yellow with burgundy letters spelling out RIOT! at the top in an aggressive font that looks like paint strokes. Kind of an odd handle but looking through the work Bakugo is reminded why he picked them. He has that same feeling he did as he stood in Endeavor’s gallery. This is the kind of work he was missing in his arsenal.

He usually didn’t do such loud paintings but he was taking a chance. There was something about how Riot! painted and the subjects they chose that he thought would sell well. He’s still not a fan of the overly saturated colors but the muscular figures hunched in different ways with red string warped around them is still interesting.

He goes back a few years to an earlier series called Sunshine. It’s very different from what the artist was doing now. All the Sunshine series of paintings look like candid poses of random people or possibly friends. All their faces are crystal clear but the surroundings are abstractly blurred in each painting. Bakugo finds he likes these more than the ones about soulmates.

Then he’s diving in and looking through all the works and analyzing each year available. It’s been a long time since he sought anyone out but he has good feeling about meeting Riot! tomorrow.

Chapter Text

“I have to get to the top floor!”

“Ma’am you’ll need to produce a badge or escort if you want to enter the building.”

Seeing the commotion in the lobby of his workplace Bakugo’s hands reflexively shoot to his temples. He needed to enact a preemptive measure for the headache that was sure to set in.

It was so early in the morning that regularly anything he deemed an annoyance would be ignored but not this time. Hearing ‘top floor’ he finds himself immediately tuning into the argument.

His gallery was at the top after all and the rest of the floors were split between different companies. He never familiarized himself with the neighboring businesses but he’s positive he doesn’t recognize the woman in the lobby.

She has earmuffs that look like horns shooting out from a bushy untamed pink hair. Her fashion sense is questionable to say the least. She’s dressed in a turquoise and purple eyesore of a patterned workout jumpsuit paired with gold toed boots.

“I told you I called up to have someone get me but they didn’t answer,” She repeats to the security guards’ hands waving in frustration as she speaks.

“No badge, no entry” says one guard.

“No escort, no entry,” says the other, face staying equally stern.

“No entry, no meeting,” continues the woman with an exasperated sigh “In other words you’re both making me late for a very important meeting.”

“Pinky’s with me,” Bakugo interrupts strutting over to them and whipping out his keychain from his pocket that has his badge attached.

He makes a show of slapping it on the granite security desk even though he knows the guards are only doing their job. He sees them every day and will be nicer tomorrow but right now his focus is on securing a contract.

The rowdy woman with odd fashion sense has to be his new artist, Riot!. Her whole aura just screamed artist or maybe it was her over the top pink makeup that fully covers her face like a mask. His moment of chivalry seems to work as the woman eyes light up when he swoops in.

“Can you really get me through?” She questions “I’ve been stuck here for a full ten minutes.”

“We’re headed to the same place,” Bakugo shrugs “It’s my pleasure to escort you.”

The guards take his badge to put in his details so they can add a guest to his account. They take a photo of the woman and print her off a guest name tag. Then the guards move from around the desk. They motion for each of them to walk one at a time through the sensor gate.

“After you,” Bakugo insists to the woman a smile plastered to his face.

For the next hour he was going to be the most hospitable person she’s ever encountered in her life. His performance might even be so great she’d leave thinking they were soulmates. And Bakugo, well, he’d get exactly what he wanted. Her work would be in his gallery and Deku would sing his praises.

Pinky steps confidently through the scanner a victorious smile directed at the guards. They hand back her belongings and she throws on a fur lined vest as eye-catching as the rest of her clothes. Bakugo takes his turn and with no issues and he leads her around the corner of the building to the elevators.

After they hop in the woman turns to him “So, I’m guessing you work at the gallery?”

He’d normally fire off that he owns the gallery but he thinks she’d see it as pretentious so he reconsiders.

“You could say that,” Bakugo picks his words carefully “Even as the owner I feel equal amongst everyone I’ve hired.”

“Hmm so you’re the boss,” She says “I guess I seriously lucked out that you were passing by, though I’m a little shocked you agreed to help me in the first place.”

“Why is that?” Bakugo asks.

“Apart from how you’re dressed I pictured you sort of differently in my head based on what I’ve read about you, no offense,” She says with a wave of her hand.

Bakugo huffs a laugh “None taken. Most art dealers have the ill-fitting stuffy black business suit market cornered. I try to separate myself but it seeps in.”

“What you have on isn’t heaps different but it’s also not bad,” She tells him giving a once over to his simple black turtleneck, dress pants, and wooly grey overcoat.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Bakugo says.

“It is one,” She smiles.

The elevator comes to a stop at the top floor but the doors don’t open right away. They take so long that Bakugo ends up hitting the open button. The doors are loud, screeching, as they slide apart and the alarm doesn’t stop even as they clear the doorway. It only stops when the doors fully close once more.

“It’s an old building,” Bakugo supplies “the cold weather isn’t helping either.”

“We got here in one piece and I can get to the meeting on time. That’s all that matters to me,” Pinky says.

“Yes, right this way,” Bakugo leads her down the hallway to the gallery.

As they get closer, he feels in his pockets for his key card to his office. It’s not there. He checks his other pocket patting it flat with his hand but doesn’t feel any casing there either.

“Fuck,” Bakugo says under his breath. Apparently not quietly enough as he gets a shocked look from Pinky.

“Uh- sorry- I didn’t get my card back from security,” Bakugo tells her “I’ll go get it, you can wait outside my office.” He points in its direction as it comes into view.

“Okay?” She gives him an odd look but begins to walk away.

Damn, how could he forget something so important. He hurries back to the elevator and is even more annoyed by the other people riding down and getting off at different levels. He taps his foot impatiently at how slow everyone is moving.

Things like this happened right? It wasn’t a bad look that he was leaving his guest alone for a few minutes. She didn’t even seem like the type to care about being prompt in the first place.

Except she totally was! She made that whole scene about being late in the lobby.

As soon as the doors open on the ground floor Bakugo takes off running. If he’s fast enough maybe he can get his badge and call back the empty elevator before it leaves. As he turns the corner his shoulder slams into someone else’s. Pain shoots through his right arm and he clutches it, eyes squeezing shut. It’s like he ran into a brick wall.

“Are you all right?” Comes the deep voice from the man he ran into.

Bakugo’s head tilts up at the familiarity and his eyes open slowly. He takes in every bit of red spiky hair, impossible golden skin, and unnaturally sharp teeth.

“Red!” Bakugo says surprised. What the hell was he doing at his workplace?

Kirishima dons the same cherry colored utility jumpsuit from when they first met. Gears click together and turn the wheel in Bakugo’s head. He realizes that Sero must have connections to Endeavor’s staff and hired Kirishima to help rearrange work for the day. That doesn’t explain the object dangling from Kirishima’s hand which he’s quick to snatch away.

“What are you doing with my badge?” Bakugo asks with a glare.

“I noticed it at security,” Red says “I was coming up to the gallery so I offered to return it to you.”

“And they just trusted you,” Bakugo says inspecting his I.D. card by turning it in his hand. It gave him access to more than his office so it would suck if he had to get it replaced.

“I was cleared in the system for a guest badge so that probably helped,” Kirishima informs, he points to his photo in a flimsy plastic holder that is clipped to his front pocket.

“Well, thanks I guess,” Bakugo says awkwardly “I have to get back to work.” He had already wasted too much time and his artist was waiting for him.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Red asks “I’ve never been here before.”

“Do whatever you want Red,” Bakugo says turning tail and making his way back to the elevator.

He is acutely aware that Red falls into step beside him. When they get in the elevator, he also notices how Red chooses to stand near him. Bakugo hits the button for their floor and moves to the opposite side to put some space between them.

“I can’t believe you forgot my name,” Red huffs. He leans back against the wall on his side with a frown as the elevator doors shut and they take off.

“I didn’t,” Bakugo says amused “It’s Kirishima.”

Kirishima looks at him amazed, his frown instantly gives way to a bright smile, one that Bakugo is afraid of being swept up in. That’s obviously why he elected to stay far away from him. He doesn’t want to get infected by Kirishima’s simplemindedness. He didn’t get why Kirishima was smiling at him like it made his whole day that he remembered his name.

“Aren’t you curious about why I’m here?” Kirishima asks.

Bakugo looks him up and down again “It’s pretty obvious from what you’re wearing.”

“It is?” Kirishima asks looking down at his own clothes closely like they’re a math problem in need of solving “but it seemed like you didn’t know?”

Bakugo finds that statement strange but when the elevator creaks to a stop it pulls his attention and Kirishima’s. They look to the door waiting for it to open for someone but nothing happens. They exchange a worried glance until the elevator begins moving again.

Bakugo watches the floor numbers lighting up with a beep as they slide up each level. 8. 9. 10. They’re getting closer to the top and have both fallen silent. The whurrrr of the elevator is a normal occurrence as it’s being lifted but it seems louder today to him. The light whistle and squeal of the pipes never came through so crystal clear as they do now.

The metal cage halts to another stop, but this time it’s stuck between two floors. A sense of fear grips Bakugo and he holds tight to the metal railing at his side. He looks at Kirishima across from him to find he’s slightly hunched over with his eyes shut and taking deep breaths. Kirishima being worst for the ware weirdly makes Bakugo instantly calmer.

“We’re okay,” Bakugo says not sure how to comfort him “we’ve probably just stalled because of the cold.”

Kirishima’s chest noticeably rises and falls with each heavy breath but he opens his eyes to look at him.

“Yeah, of course, you’re probably right,” Kirishima says “Not like we’re going to die in here or anything.”

Bakugo laughs “We’re definitely not going to die, everything is fine.”

And it is.

Bakugo was shaken from his own self-induced panic by Kirishima’s even worse handling of the situation. He remembered it’s virtually impossible to plummet in modern elevators. A fact he knew when renting the top floor for his gallery. They still hadn’t moved at all which was some cause for concern.

The lights above them flicker and it’s the only warning they get before they’re blanketed in darkness.

“We are so going to die in here!” Kirishima says diving headfirst into fear.

Bakugo won’t let all hell break loose and chooses to remain calm. Safety lights turn on not a second later bathing them in a dim yellow glow as if to reward him.

“Listen to me Eijirou,” Bakugo says using a surefire method to gain the other’s attention “We are not going to die in here.”

“Did just call me-“

“Yes, I did,” Bakugo says “Trust me, we’re not going to drop down the elevator shaft.”

“Oh fuck, fuck, I wasn’t even thinking about that!” Kirishima says eyebrows rising and even in the low lighting Bakugo observes the color drain from his face.

“I was feeling claustrophobic is all,” Kirishima continues “Which is dumb because I’m not even claustrophobic. I am pro not being confined to tiny spaces in general. Which seems like a pretty normal need if you ask me. I thought we’d die in here because nobody would notice our absence, not that we would plummet down the elevator shaft! It’s unmanly but I also sort of hate the dark-“

“If you’re a man then get it together!” Bakugo snaps as the guy starts to remind him of Deku with all his over-the-top blabbering.

Kirishima freezes. “Sorry, I know freaking out is not going to help us,” Kirishima says evenly reclaiming his rationale.

“It sure as hell isn’t,” Bakugo says impressed that his attitude changed so quickly, like he had flipped a switch. Kirishima was no longer breathing hard; he stands up completely straight and his fists unclench at his sides.

“But you’re sure we’re not going to free fall 14 floors,” Kirishima double checks his brow creasing worried.

“No shot, we might be stuck in here but we won’t drop,” Bakugo assures taking a step towards him.

The elevator lurches upward causing Bakugo to lose his balance. He stumbles forward in Kirishima’s direction but thinking quickly he throws out his arms to prevent them from touching. Both his hands slap the wall beside Kirishima’s head and he’s able to get his balance back.

He swiftly surveys all his body parts just to make sure there was absolutely zero contact of their skin. The good news is most of their skin is covered up, the bad news is their faces are insanely close now. Bakugo swallows harshly seeing how a blush had crept its way onto Kirishima’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” Bakugo mutters trying to avoid looking into Kirishima’s eyes as he peels his hands away from the wall.

“It’s alright, I’m just glad you got your footing,” Kirishima says “but we should-“

“Call for help,” Bakugo finishes. It’s the whole reason he was walking over to his side.

Their heads turn at the same time in the direction of the buttons on the elevator. Two hands fly out to reach for the emergency call button. Their fingers collide before making it to their destination. Bakugo pulls his hand back like he was electrocuted. He does it so quickly as if he’s fast enough he could take back the contact. With a bated breath he looks at Kirishima whose equally startled gaze lands on him.

Bakugo’s mom always told him when it came to soulmates the universe had a way of bringing people together. He dismissed many of the lessons she tried to bestow upon him but not that one. He always kind of believed in fate, that a master puppeteer was pulling strings from behind a curtain. Looking straight at Kirishima he is now certain it’s true.

He sees the steel grey in Kirishima’s eyes explode with color. Bright crimson spreading faster than a drop of ink in water to all parts of his iris. Kirishima’s face starts to grow blurry. No. Bakugo realizes it’s his vision that’s turning unfocused from tears welling up in his eyes.

An uncomfortable almost burning sensation makes its way into his eyes. As if something flew in them that he can’t blink out. The sting creates bulbous tears that threaten to spill over. Bakugo starts to move his hand to catch them at his cheek but then there’s already a hand on his face.

A soft warm touch that despite the callous fingertip is gentle as it brushes under his eye. Even though Bakugo’s heart is sprinting to a finish line nowhere in sight, his palms are clammy and his head is pounding, he finds that touch is soothing. He’s drawn to it in a way that scares him.

“Eijirou,” Bakugo chokes out taking a step back that makes his body sway “I’m not feeling very good.”

“Whoa,” Kirishima grabs ahold of him by the shoulders to steady him “stay still okay.”

Bakugo grips one of Kirishima’s hands as if it’s his new personal anchor. The pounding in his head begins to ease enough for him to focus on Kirishima but all he can do is stare. He stares and stares and stares at the person who is his soulmate.

That person who is looking at him with the same tear-stained cheeks and unbelievable worry, but is equally at a loss for words.

Red.

Could Bakugo have picked a more perfect nickname? His eyes must be the same color which is why he finds himself staring and staring into Kirishima’s until he blinks.

“This is-,” Kirishima starts a smile playing at his lips “amazing!”

“Terrible,” Bakugo says.

Tragic, horrifying, a disaster. He should’ve stayed in bed this morning.

“Did you just say terrible?” Kirishima asks surprised. His head searches the vicinity for a different person that could have possibly said it even though there is none.

“It is,” Bakugo says awkwardly releasing his hold on Kirishima’s hand.

Bakugo had sworn off looking for his soulmate about as long as he had been going to therapy. He didn’t want someone to worm their way into his life and try to figure him out. Hell, he was still figuring himself out. He’s not prey to soulmate propaganda and knows it’s not all rainbows and butterflies. Having a soulmate right now can only serve to complicate his life.

More than anything, Kirishima deserved a person who was ready to be his soulmate and Bakugo isn’t. He just isn’t. He’s uncertain if he’ll ever be ready even if fate has decided today, he is.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since I knew of your… aversion,” Kirishima says the initial excitement in his voice now gone.

“Sorry,” Bakugo offers weakly.

If there are any more signs that Kirishima is upset, he’s careful not to show it. Instead, Kirishima pushes the emergency call button and waits for the line to pick up. When it connects to a crisis dispatcher he explains the situation.

“Yes, it’s only two of us,” Kirishima says “We’re either between floors 14 and 15 or 14 and 13.”

“Are you both okay?” Asks the mangled scratchy voice coming from the elevator speaker.

Kirishima doesn’t respond right away but looks his way. “Are you okay, Katsuki?” Kirishima asks softly.

“I’m fine,” Bakugo manages “now that the room is no longer spinning.”

That has Kirishima shaking his head at him “I’m okay but the person with me is not. Is there a way to help someone who is disoriented after finding their soulmate? It’s mostly dizziness I think.”

“Errr they found their soulmate…in the elevator? But it’s only you and them,” the helpline voice says confused.

Kirishima rolls his eyes, his very red eyes, and speaks up once more “Yes, I’m their soulmate. I’m pretty sure we’re both more worried about being stuck though.”

“We’ll be sending help but it may take a while,” comes the crackly voice “in the meantime try having them sit down and see if that helps with the dizziness and call again if there is no change in status.”

“Okay, thanks for your help,” Kirishima sighs relaxing his shoulders some before turning his attention back to Bakugo once more “Maybe we should both sit down.”

Bakugo gives a nod and then sinks to the ground. His legs fold beneath him and while the pounding in his head slowly returns, he truthfully no longer felt dizzy.

Kirishima slides down against the wall joining him on the floor. Bakugo can’t help stealing glances at his eyes. He might not be ready to have a soulmate but the reality is he has one. No video, article or spoken tale could prepare him for how strange it was.

It’s so fascinating to him that at the drop of a dime, from a slight brush of skin, all those physical changes occurred to their bodies. He crawls to sit right next to Kirishima giving into his desire to want to inspect his eyes. Kirishima’s head turns curiously in his direction as Bakugo firmly plants himself beside him. It makes it that much easier for Bakugo to lean forward and get a better look at the color of his eyes.

They’re as bright red as fresh blood from a shallow cut mixed with the slightest hint of an earthy brown. They look like disks of reddish clay. Then the color slowly disappears behind unfairly long dark eyelashes because Kirishima is closing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Bakugo asks frowning.

Kirishima eyes flutter back open and he looks at him perplexed “Weren’t you going to kiss me?”

“What! No-the fuck,” Bakugo bursts his face flushing and he scoots away from him “Kiss you? I barely know you! I wanted to get a look at your eyes.”

“Ohhh,” Kirishima says his lips forming around the vowel “I did think you were moving a bit fast for someone who announced our connection was terrible, but you could’ve said something?”

“I didn’t think I needed to. Why would you let me kiss you in the first place?” Bakugo asks.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Kirishima says not able to suppress a dopey grin “It’s because you’re my soulmate.”

“That’s the worst possible reason,” Bakugo glares at him “Being soulmates shouldn’t be an easy pass to let people do whatever they want to you, Eijirou.”

Kirishima stiffens, holds his gaze as he says “Is that what you truly believe?”

“Yes,” Bakugo shifts uncomfortably crossing his arms “and If you’re going to call me self-righteous then-“

“I wasn’t,” Kirishima cuts in quickly “my dad said something similar to me, the last time we spoke, is all.”

“I see,” Bakugo says flatly because he doesn’t actually see. He knows nothing about Kirishima or his dad.

Kirishima wears a resigned look that makes him question if it’s a good comparison. He’s not dumb enough to attempt to breach a topic that he can’t reverse out of while they are stuck together for who knows how long. Bakugo ends up massaging his temples not sure what to think.

“Are you still not feeling any better?” Kirishima asks picking up on the action “I can call for help again.”

“There’s no need it’s only a migraine,” Bakugo says “It’ll pass.”

“A migraine, are you sure?” Kirishima asks slowly narrowing his eyes on him “What does it feel like?”

Okay, so Bakugo knows it’s not a migraine.

He’s ninety-nine percent sure it’s Kirishima’s heartbeat loudly pounding in his head but he doesn’t want to say so. It’s obvious Kirishima does not have the same problem. It makes Bakugo feel so feeble to be negatively impacted by their bond.

“It feels like a migraine,” Bakugo says clipped.

Kirishima reaches a hand in his direction and Bakugo flinches away from it. Kirishima falters and withdraws his hand even though it looks like it pains him to do so.

“I doubt it’s a migraine,” Kirishima sighs looking forward “If you hold my hand, you’ll probably feel better.”

Kirishima lets his arm rest in the open space between them.

It’s as good an invitation as any. Bakugo is left to decide what he wants to do with it and he swallows nervously. He’s not a germaphobe but that would be way easier than this. He’s more concerned that he’ll become reliant on their connection to soothe him.

He had felt it already when Kirishima touched him before, like his soulmate was an immediate cure tranquilizing all bad side effects. It’s clearly a lure into codependency that Bakugo refuses to fall for. He doesn’t need a soulmate. He doesn’t need Kirishima’s hand.

What he needs is to hold out until help comes.

He gathers his knees close to his body withdrawing into himself. Focuses on each breath he takes instead of the stray sounds of Kirishima shuffling beside him. He can get through this because if he doesn’t then he's fucked.

Chapter Text

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Skip.”

They’d been stuck for a few hours and mostly silent after their initial conversation. Bakugo had checked his emails from his phone and set the hours in his shared calendar to show he wouldn’t be available until after lunch. He could do without being bombarded with worried text messages from his team, thank you very much. Plus, they’d find out soon enough what happened and that he met his soulmate. It was going to be a disaster more than his current status quo.  

Kirishima had busied himself for a while but it was evident by the way he twisted his body into new positions every few minutes that he was getting bored. That is why it wasn’t too surprising to Bakugo when Kirishima turned to him and declared he couldn’t take the silence. Kirishima said he wanted to know more about him and promptly started asking questions. None were too serious, favorite food, favorite movie, dominant hand, if he had any siblings, if got along well with his parents and so on.

Bakugo welcomed the distraction from his headache at first but thought Kirishima would give up if he gave short answers. He was wrong. It turns out he grossly underestimated Kirishima’s ability to naturally carry a conversation with a less than willing participant.

“Favorite color is monumentally important,” Kirishima claims as he did in some fashion every single time Bakugo asked to skip a question.

“You seem to think every question I skip is of life changing importance,” Bakugo huffs.

“Only because they are. This however is bigger than all that came before,” Kirishima says passionately a faraway look in his eyes.

“Are you always like this?” Bakugo gestures in his general direction with the twirl of his wrist.

“Like what?” Kirishima blinks at him.

Full of enthusiasm, smiley, overwhelmingly friendly.

“Pushy,” Bakugo replies wryly.

Kirishima’s lip twitched, a response in and of itself. “No.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Bakugo says with a smirk. He leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes still not feeling his best.

“Well, I don’t believe you’re capable of being so easily strung along by me either,” Kirishima counters.

Charming.

Despite his better judgment Bakugo gives in again “Green. My favorite color is green and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out your favorite color is red.”

“Green!” Kirishima gasps “You know what that means, right?”

“Not a clue, is it that I’m lucky or something?” Bakugo drags his tired eyes open. He sure as hell didn’t feel lucky.

“No, but we shouldn’t rule that out!” Kirishima stretches out next to his knee. He props a hand under his head laying sideways on the ground as he relaxes into a new position.

He looks like an old school pin-up model with his arm flexed bursting from his rolled down sleeve. Bakugo can now see way too far down the middle zipper of his jumpsuit enough to make out a tight white tank underneath. Bakugo curls his fist at his side feeling too warm through all the layers he’s wearing.

“Go ahead, tell me what it means,” Bakugo says as he works off his coat as to not overheat. His coat must be the problem and not his wandering eyes. It has to be.

“Your favorite color is green,” Kirishima points at him and then he draws his hand back poking his thumb into his own chest “and mine is red.”

Christmas? Bakugo starts to answer but the way Kirishima breaks into the most dazzling smile has his mouth go dry.

“They’re complementary colors,” Kirishima says still beaming “It’s a sign from the universe that we’re perfect for each other!”

Bakugo coughs flustered his face heating “T-that’s stupid!”

His mouth lays agape in revulsion. Kirishima bubbles with laughter curling into himself and gripping his sides. His body shakes as he laughs and Bakugo thinks he seems far too entertained by his reaction. It’s exactly why Bakugo isn’t good at dealing with Kirishima types; people whom he can’t tell if they find humor in minuscule things or if they are secretly laughing at him.

“It’s not stupid, it’s color theory,” Kirishima says matter of fact “I’ve done hundreds of paintings with that combo.”

“You paint? Is that why you pick up installation gigs with art galleries?” Bakugo asks with the pulse of an interest. He can’t help that his brain is wired to talk to art. He actually wonders how Sero is fairing without the extra hand he promised him. Sero is one of the only people he thought about texting earlier because he’s the least likely to make a big deal out of everything.

“What do you mean?” Kirishima asks with a puzzled tilting of his head.

“Like you want to be closer to the art scene and can dream about having your paintings in galleries where you install art,” Bakugo carries on.

Kirishima sits up from his spot and it’s not because he’s tired of the previous position he was in, that much is clear. He starts to open his mouth but shuts it again quickly. Kirishima taps his chin in thought and mumbles under his breath but Bakugo can’t make out what he said. Bakugo waits none too patiently for his response.

“Katsuki,” Kirishima says with all the delicacy of someone ripping off a bandage, so none at all “I don’t have to dream about having my paintings in galleries…because I already do.”

Kirishima looks at him expectantly but Bakugo doesn’t get it. This guy works as an installer AND as an artist? It doesn’t make any sense. While he could do both it was far more likely that…

“You don’t install art,” Bakugo says.

“No, I don’t,” Kirishima says.

“You’re an artist,” Bakugo thinks aloud “and you’re here to visit my gallery today?”

“Yes.” Kirishima nods knowing he’s catching up.

“You’re Riot!” Bakugo shouts.

“I’m Riot!” Kirishima grins.

But if Kirishima was Riot! then who the hell was that woman earlier? Also, didn’t he insult this guy’s art to his face. What hits him last that he is wholly unprepared for is that this news is very upsetting to him.

“You knew this whole time that we would meet again,” Bakugo says trying and failing for it to not come out as an accusation.

It is one though.

He hurriedly gathers his coat and stands up though he shortly realizes he has nowhere to storm off to. Angrily he whips back around channeling all his ire at Kirishima with a glare.

“Yes, I knew,” Kirishima says rising to his feet “and you might have known as well if you stayed a minute longer at Endeavor’s.”

“Are you trying to imply this is on me?” Bakugo says “You were dressed as his staff! You still are!”

“Ohhh-you thought!” Kirishima’s face dawns with realization “The jumpsuits were cool so I asked if I could have one. You were right my favorite color is red.”

“And you just happened to be there the day they were removing work?”

“No, I was purposefully there to collect a painting of mine that I decided not to sell. A self-portrait, that some guy-I forget what he said his name was- told me my ass looked good in.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t-“ Bakugo balks.

“What? Know that you were hitting on me?” Kirishima replies smugly biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling.

“I didn’t know it was self-portrait,” Bakugo shakes his head “You also could’ve told me at that convenience store but didn’t.”

“I was shocked to see you sooner than I planned but at that point I had already decided I wanted to surprise you,” Kirishima shrugs like it’s no big deal.

Yet, it feels like a big deal to Bakugo. A terribly huge massive deal because why would Kirishima want to surprise him in the first place? Plus, if he hadn’t then Bakugo could have remained blissfully unaware he ever had a soulmate.

“Surprise me or humiliate me?” Bakugo questions “I bet you showed up here to reject me to my face all because I said I hated your painting.” Even though Kirishima looks completely caught off guard Bakugo doesn’t let up. “It’s not funny to screw with people like this, but I guess you got your payback and I couldn’t care less if you rescind your contract!”

“Rescind my contract?” Kirishima eyes go wide and then silence stretches between them.

Bakugo knows he was reading heavily into Kirishima’s motives but was he wrong? What type of artist would agree to work with a person who didn’t like their work? Instead of denying the indictment of his character and defensively arguing back Kirishima strangely doesn’t speak at all. Instead, Kirishima takes a step towards him.

“What are you-,” Bakugo cautiously steps away though it plants his back into smooth cold steel.

Kirishima comes closer leaning his body over him and making Bakugo feel small. Kirishima’s hand plants into the wall beside Bakugo’s head with a thud. Bakugo inhales his final breath. Kirishima must be past the idea of talking to him and decided killing him would be easier. It would be a good time to do it too considering there were no witnesses. Based on how long they’d been stuck Kirishima would have plenty of time to come up with a great cover story.

“I take my job seriously.” Kirishima says stony faced locking eyes with him “I’m not so frivolous to sign a contract and show up here without researching you and your gallery. In fact, I’m quite offended you believe I would make a spectacle of a one-off critique.”

Bakugo is unflinching as he says “I wouldn’t put it past most people to want to hurt my feelings because I didn’t spare theirs.”

If there is an edge to his voice it’s one of sour underlying experience. Give people the chance to disappoint you and they would step up to the task. It’s a pitying stare that Bakugo receives from Kirishima in return but shortly Kirishima’s expression morphs into something akin to an understanding of him. Maybe why he is as guarded as he is and Bakugo hates feeling seen through.

“You told me you wanted me, so I’m here. That’s all this is.” Kirishima says softly “However, if you think being my soulmate will hinder your ability to do your job then I’ll rescind my contract. But only if that’s what you want, is that what you want?”

It’s not what he wants, not in the slightest. They’re so close that Bakugo notices the rise and fall of Kirishima’s chest as he breathes, that he pushes up on the balls of his feet before rocking back into his soles, and there is a nervous bob of his Adam’s apple. A place Bakugo shouldn’t be staring at so hard. He raises his eyes but meeting the vulnerability in Kirishima’s makes him feel unsteady even against the solidness of the wall.

“I want you to stay,” Bakugo acknowledges breathlessly.

Admitting it feels like he’s giving up a position of relative power. In the early days of his career he learned desperation was the quickest way to turn an artist away. He knows he should always have the upper hand and be in a spot where he can do more for an artist than they can for him. That was the deal when it came to representing people. He spent years proving he was worthy or that trust but at the moment it doesn’t seem to matter.

“Great, let’s shake on it,” Kirishima declares holding up his hand between their bodies.

Oh, so that was his angle. In the last few hours hands have never looked so daunting to Bakugo. Pudgy pads of flesh with line markings of a mad person were more like it. He considers how much of his pride he’d be sacrificing to take hold of Kirishima’s hand after all his protest. Kirishima must have some screws loose to even bother offering again. The prelude of a conversation they had has no bearing on what’s happening between them now. They both know this has nothing to deal with a business deal.

Bakugo wants to gauge how much of a difference being touched makes but he’s also wary. Without a second thought he shoves his hand into Kirishima’s and it’s like an electric current racing up his fingertips. He now realizes how terrible his head was feeling. The slicing pain through his temples starts to fade. His breathing evens out. His nerves seem to be rewritten to a state of calm all because of Kirishima’s hand in his. Had Kirishima realized how bad a shape he was in due to his outburst?

“Do you feel any better?” Kirishima probes confirming his suspicions. Kirishima squeezes his hand reassuringly and it makes Bakugo want to not so spontaneously combust.

“Please don’t do that,” Bakugo snatches his hand back and shakes it out as if he were trying to regain feeling.

The reality is he feels too much. Some science experiment that was. Why did he think a third time would yield a different result? He’s as bad a scientist as Deku and Todoroki are.

“Sorry,” Kirishima relents turning away from him “Honestly, I’m trying not to care about your condition but I can’t stand watching anyone suffer when I know I can help.”

Bakugo views the slouched shoulders of Kirishima’s back with mercy. Being trapped in an elevator has been the worst experience he’s had in a long time. Hard floors, gloomy lighting, and an unclear expectation of when they’d leave. He can’t fathom why Kirishima seems more dismayed by his help being rejected than by being stuck but maybe it’s how he was raised.

Bakugo bets Kirishima regularly helps old ladies cross the street, rescues cats from miscellaneous trees, or even helps lost children find their parents in a store. Kirishima probably lived to please but Bakugo isn’t nearly as virtuous. He knows right from wrong but recognizes doing the right thing can be a huge pain.

A loud ping breaks his thought and soon the elevator doors are sliding open. They reveal half a concrete wall and a partial opening to the next floor. The heads of emergency service workers poke into the view.

“Everything okay in here?” 

Bakugo feels an overwhelming sense of relief at being rescued but there is an awkwardness too. Kirishima and him are standing apart from each other looking miserable. Bakugo would rather endure four more hours than to be caught like this. Especially since the works are aware they’re soulmates either from the call or by looking at them. Bakugo tries not to cringe when he’s congratulated for it as he gets pulled out.

The elevator mechanic with pink dreads is the only person who doesn’t seem to care. She swiftly closes the door upon their exit and slaps an “out of order’ sign above the buttons. She plops down on the floor opening her toolkit and continues working.

After triple checking Bakugo does not want to be carried off in a stretcher to the hospital the rescue crew start to take their leave. They call a working elevator and file in. Bakugo remains polite through another round of being congratulated as the doors close but it’s hard to hide his distaste. Kirishima gives out easy smiles but cards his fingers through his spiky locks anxiously.

Freedom is bittersweet when grappling not only with the question of what to do for the rest of the day but also for the rest of their lives. Bakugo is leaning heavily towards going home and wasting away to a carcass. He’d hopefully wake up tomorrow to find out it was all dream and be comforted by commonplace cloudy grey eyes.

“So,” Kirishima rubs at the back of his neck “How about that tour?”

Or there was that.

The only reason Bakugo allows Kirishima a tour of the gallery is to fulfill his contractual obligation. He leads them to the stairwell knowing neither of them has the nerves for the much shorter working condition elevator ride.

It’s quiet as they ascend each step seeped in the uncomfortableness of their predicament. Bakugo is relieved by getting to the top floor, it’s a short walk and turn down the hall placing them near the front desk. What Bakugo doesn’t expect is to be greeted by Deku, half and half, and ponytail.

“Kacchan I was about to call you!” Deku is the first to speak up.

“I guess now you don’t need to,” Bakugo says drily making his way towards them.

“It’s very unlike you to be so late for a team meeting,” Todoroki adds.

It seemed lunch had passed already. They’d been gone so long and now his team was waiting for their regular meeting to start. Damn his consistency.

“Meetings cancelled,” Bakugo says not feeling great about cancelling twice in one week. He didn’t want to set the precedent but today he won’t give them an hour to make a mockery of him.

“We were trapped in an elevator,” Kirishima supplies making them all at once aware of his presence.

Whatever Momo was going to contribute dies on her tongue. Todoroki and Deku are also silent but Bakugo knows it won’t last.

“I thought you were in your office this morning Kacchan!”

“You changed your calendar so I thought the same,” Todoroki frowns “Did you text me at all? I usually put my phone in my drawer to limit distractions.”

“If I wasn’t so busy helping the installation team this morning, I might’ve noticed you were missing,” Momo chimes.

“Wait a second, your eyes,” Deku stills as Bakugo gets closer.

“They’re different,” Todoroki says.

“They’re the same color as his,” Momo points to Kirishima.

Before everyone explodes all over again Bakugo holds up his hand to bring it to a stop. It won’t be enough to prevent a new round of questions and comments which is why he finds himself saying,” I found out in the elevator. No, I will not be fielding questions about my personal life while we are at work and in the presence of a contracted artist. I’m giving a tour and then I’m headed home but you all better be meeting deadlines.”

It suffices in that nobody on his team spouts another word. They’re used to dealing with him in a mood but this is different. They give him sympathetic looks which is why he must get away from them.

“Let’s get going, Red.” Bakugo starts off in the direction of the first show room.

“Sure thing Katsuki,” Kirishima practically bounces in his direction to follow along.

Bakugo doesn’t miss how Deku’s eyes widen at Kirishima’s use of his first name. Before he catches the whispering to come, he grabs Kirishima’s by his sleeve and leads him away.

The gallery is small enough that they can walk it quickly but it’s also big enough that when they turn a new corner they meet unsuspecting staff. Everyone they cross gives Bakugo the same smirk or confused wide eyed stare. Fortunately, they know better than to point out the obvious to him. The only exception, of course, is Pinky. Who when they come across Bakugo sees aligning three small frames. While it should be evident why she’s there he still has to ask.

“Who the hell are you and why are you in my gallery?”

She startles fumbling with the work she’s holding but Sero pops out from who knows where and steadies her hand. He then steps rather defensively in front of her to block Bakugo’s view.

“Thought I heard your voice,” Sero smiles at him “and might this be our esteemed new artist?”

As Sero notices the difference in his eyes he barely reacts outside the slightest stiffening of his posture before relaxing again. Bakugo should give him a raise solely based on that. How was string bean the only one with some fucking class in this place?

“Yes, this is our new artist, Riot!” Bakugo introduces him.

“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Sero holds out his hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Kirishima grins shaking it.

They shake hands for far too long grinning at one another and then both men laugh. It’s such an odd instant camaraderie that Bakugo is sure they’d make fast friends. He’s not sure that’s a good thing.

“I’m still here,” Pinky says leaning past Sero’s tall frame.

“And I’m still waiting for some answers,” Bakugo directs to her.

“This is Mina Ashido, she’s the extra hand I hired for today,” Sero says.

“Clearly,” Bakugo says having already known but for some reason wanting it confirmed.

“I’m also Sero’s soulmate,” Mina nudges him smiling mischievously “and I couldn’t help but notice-”

Sero’s arm slings around her fast “He doesn’t want us to notice, enjoy your tour.” Sero winks at them as he ushers her away.

“They seem nice,” Kirishima remarks.

“It was a horrible idea to do this today,” Bakugo sighs.

“Hey at least you won’t have to hear about it tomorrow, right?”

“Highly unlikely, they all love to torment me here.”

“In that case we can end the tour here. You might need to rest up so you can handle them tomorrow,” Kirishima offers.

“Are you sure that’s okay with you?” Bakugo asks. From what Deku had told him Kirishima seemed to have really wanted the tour. They hadn’t even gotten to the balcony but who was Bakugo to turn down such a gift. Kirishima was serving him his freedom on a silver platter.

“I certainly don’t want to drag this out and be added to your list of tormenters so soon,” Kirishima says “or is it hopeful that I’m not already on the list?”

Bakugo smiles naturally, then self-aware he neutralizes his expression. “There’s no list,” he says simply.

“Hmmm that sounds exactly like what someone with a list would say to make me think otherwise,” Kirishima eyes narrow on him as if to say just tell me what number I am on the list.

“Are we done here?” Bakugo asks.

“For now. I’m at least glad we were able to talk longer today.” Kirishima smiles though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s the tiniest crack in his veneer that is evidence he might be as exhausted as Bakugo is. Bakugo was getting what he wanted by ending the day but maybe so was Kirishima.

“I’m starting to think you’re responsible for an elevator breaking,” Bakugo tries to joke.

“I would never orchestrate an event to meet a soulmate who hates me,” Kirishima mouth forms into a grim line.

Bakugo goes still at the word hate. He shouldn’t be surprised that’s where Kirishima’s head is at but it feels horrible nonetheless. His stomach twist into a knot because he never set out to hurt anyone. He doesn’t hate that Kirshima is his soulmate. Bakugo hates that he’s Kirishima’s soulmate. He wishes he could shake Kirishima awake to make him realize that but it’s impossible.

When you’re told your whole life that there is a person out there who is perfect for you how can you accept they don’t feel the same.

Chapter Text

There was nothing more boring to Bakugo than being forced to sit through a lesson in school he was well ahead of. His teachers voice feels like an annoying hum that gets louder the more he tries ignoring it. The only saving grace is the sound of a bell breaking through end of the history lecture to release them.

Deku has gotten a bit smarter about packing his papers so he can be the first one out the door. Bakugo doesn’t see what the hurry is when he’s going to corner the shitty nerd before he gets home regardless. He only needs to shove a single notebook in his backpack as well.

He pops right up from his chair after doing so and brushes shoulders with Deku as they jam through the door. Deku takes off down the hall in the opposite direction of him. They’ve done this song and dance so many times that Deku should just falls to his knees and beg for his life outside their classroom door.

Some days Bakugo is nice enough to let him think he’s escaped before he catches up to him. He doesn’t follow in the same direction but takes a shortcut from an exit near his locker. He lets Deku get outside the gates of the school and pounces before the brick wall ends. Today’s no different.

“Where do you think you’re going Deku?” Bakugo calls out smugly upon catching up to him.

“Oh-uhh Kacchan I didn’t notice you,” Deku jolts turning around slowly. He grips his backpack tightly in front of his body like a shield.

Kacchan.

Bakugo nose crinkles up at the nickname. He shoves Deku hard enough that he stumbles back falling into the trim line of grass wedged between the brick and concrete of the sidewalks. The idiot deserved it for using that dumb name after all.

“Didn’t I say to stop calling me that!” Bakugo growls out.

“S-sorry,” Deku stutters his head dropping “I didn’t mean to upset you Kac- Ka- Katsuki.”

“Too bad just seeing your face pisses me off,” Bakugo says glaring down at him.

Those abomination of green irises gave him goosebumps when he saw them. Imagine being born without a soulmate but still holding out hope even though your eyes had already changed color. It’s pathetic.

“You don’t mean that,” Deku says shaking his head dismissively and delusional as ever.

“Which part of you makes you think I’m joking?” Bakugo sneers smashing his fist into his palm “I’ll be happy to show you I’m not.”

Deku starts to tear up and his blubbering face is unsightly as ever. Deku was always somewhat of a crybaby but he was never such a weak loser. Why did Bakugo ever consider them friends?

“Well? Say something,” Bakugo demands grabbing hold of one of his wrists tightly and hauling him up roughly from the ground.

He twists his arm and Deku cries out in pain but Bakugo ignores his wailing. He makes a fist with his other hand and winds it back but when he starts to throw the punch the face he’s used to seeing changes.

It’s Kirishima. Tears are streaming down his cheek and his lip trembles as he pleads before the blow.

“Fuck.” Bakugo jolts up in bed to a completely dark room. He feels like he punctured a lung, the oxygen he takes in never fully circulating through him. He’s no longer in middle school. He apologized to Izuku years ago and they are friends now. He has to remind himself of everything in order to calm down. His shirt is drenched in sweat and checking his alarm clock it’s a little past three in the morning. Great.

For all his exercises there is nothing to stop the nightmare he’s still in which is a heartbeat that is painfully real. It is also fast. Was Kirishima asleep right now or in the middle of a 100-meter sprint? He doesn’t know if it’s really possible to tell because each beat is so stabbing in his head. He already knows he’s not going to be able to get back to sleep at this rate.

Kirishima’s tormented face is still fresh in his mind. The Kirishima in his dream had been shaking with fear, completely afraid of him yet his eyes seemed dull. The same way they seemed yesterday when Kirishima had been so disappointed by his lack of interest in being soulmates. To top it off it reminds him of his roommate in university too; he shudders at the thought. They were never close and Bakugo was slowly starting to forget his features despite his effort to remember. Bakugo whips off his blanket and turns on his bedside lamp before slogging over to his dresser to swap shirts.

The heartbeat ‘headache’ had been bearable when he left the office yesterday. Now just shy of 12 hours later it felt severe. Non-stop thump thump thumping in his head is louder than ever in contrast to the stillness of his room. He grabs his phone off his nightstand before slinking back to his bed. There’s a person, well two people, he thinks about calling but doesn’t muster courage.

Instead, he turns responsibly to the internet for a solution to end his suffering. He’s not the first person to ever have gone through this. He searches online for how to reduce the pain of hearing his soulmate’s heartbeat. Hundreds of thousands of results show up so he just taps the first article he sees.

10 ways to soothe pesky soulmate heart rates.

It seems promising so he starts to read the list. He notices it starts from 10 as the least effective method going towards 1, most effective. He scrolls through this dumbly backwards organized list in record breaking pace because he only needs the number one solution.

1. The easiest way to make a booming soulmate’s heartbeat vanish is to sleep with them.

Yikes!

He throws his phone away from him on the bed though the damage is already done. Sleep with them. Absolutely not, how would that even work! Okay, he knows how it would work. He retrieves his phone annoyed so he can look for a better solution. Covering his traitor of a screen he navigates back to the original search. First results weren’t reliable anyway he reasons since the website probably paid to show up first. He scrolls to the next result and is careful to read the blurb instead of clicking to site right away.

Soulmate doctors highly recommend sleeping with-

Nope. Third times the charm. He scrolls further.

Suffering from your soulmate’s heartbeat? It may be time to have an intimate night-

Okay, everyone was crazy him included for thinking turning to the internet for advice would be helpful. He was not going to sleep with Kirishima. Maybe he was too hasty and should have read the other solutions on the first list. He continues his scrolling in search of any result where he doesn’t catch the word sleep. He’s four pages deep when he comes across a food blog.

Mirio’s perfect strawberry crepes and a cure for berry fast soulmate heartbeats

Curiosity isn’t Bakugo’s greatest flaw but being baited by recipe collecting is. He becomes absorbed in Mirio’s life and is blown away by there being no recipe for the crepes in sight after a full page. He reads through the tragic tale of Mirio’s golden retriever Biscuit getting sick (because of course a food blogger named his dog biscuit). Mirio said he felt more lost than the time he solo backpacked to truffle hunt in an undisclosed forest.

As with truffling he never gave up and nor did he when it came to Biscuit’s health. He took his dog to a vet in a town over since his normal one happened to be closed. It’s where he found Tamaka, Tomaku, Tamaji- something or other. Bakugo missed his name and wasn’t going back.

Anyway, that guy saved his dog but little did Mirio know he would soon be in a position to save Tamaki! Yeah, that was his name. They were soulmates and while there was still no ingredients or measurements listed Bakugo safely assumes strawberry crepes will have strawberries in them. Mirio details his soulmate’s pain for almost another page and finally comes to what better be the best damn crepe recipe or an answer to Bakugo’s problem.

It turns out I needed to sleep-

Wow, what a fucking waste of his time but now Bakugo must know about the crepes so he keeps reading.

beside him one night. Truly, all we did was sleep because Tamaki is very shy and I was so nervous having him over. The next morning, he told me it was the best sleep he ever had and that he felt good as new. I made strawberry crepes to celebrate! Below my dear readers is my special soulmate healing crepe recipe though it might be best to try after spending a night together.

Bakugo gets it now, Mirio was smitten. He also recognizes he majorly jumped to conclusions. Why did he think he was supposed to have sex with Kirishima? All those sites were probably telling him to literally sleep in a bed together for one night. Which was insane but less so than the alternative.

He goes back to his search page after copying Mirio’s recipe into his notes. Yes, it seems upon another examination of the results that most were saying he needed to sleep next to his soulmate in bed. With all the medical advancements and research of soulmates he can’t believe this is as good as it gets. Why isn’t there an easily digestible over the counter pill he could buy from a drugstore?

In an attempt to fall back to sleep Bakugo tries closing his eyes and counting sheep but it’s futile. He can’t picture shit or he can just not a flock of sheep. All he can conjure is red hair, strong arms, and a beautiful smile. Kirishima leans over him wearing nothing but a white tank top which he pulls up to reveal his abs. All Bakugo’s blood travels south and he gasps as Kirishima takes his hand and presses it into his chest. You wanted me here. Bakugo eyes flash open and he groans at how embarrassingly hard he is.

He glances towards his clock. 4am. He has another three hours to kill until he can get ready for work. Well, he’s going to need a cold shower and after he’ll see if he has any strawberries in his fridge. He removes his blanket once more to get up.

“Oh my, you look terrible.”  

“I thought we only hired you for a day,” Bakugo rubs at the dark circles under his eyes.

Mina reclines back in her chair relaxed “When I was here yesterday Midoriya was worried about being split between overseeing the desk and visiting artist studios. I volunteered to run the desk since I have past receptionist experience.”

“Nobody got my approval,” Bakugo says suspicious though her story is extremely plausible. Their original front desk worker left months ago so Midoriya had taken over the duties. Bakugo still hadn’t filled the position.

“I watched everyone try to call you but no one could reach you after you left,” She fiddles with the temporary name badge she has on.

He did notice he had a few missed calls but he thought they wanted to talk about him having a soulmate which he would try to avoid at all cost.

“Alright I’ll be in my office and let everyone know I’m still unavailable,” Bakugo sighs.

Mina sits up at that, a wide cheshire grin spreading on her face “None shall pass! You have my word.”

Her excitement doesn’t help reassure him in the slightest. Bakugo can’t trust her yet which is why he tacks on “If there is a fire-“

“I’ll put it out myself!” Mina nods determined.

“No. What I mean is if there is a real emergency, a reason to evacuate the building, that’s my only exception,” Bakugo says.

“Ah, of course,” Mina says softly with what he thinks is a blush but he can’t tell because of her over the top pink makeup.

With so much to catch up on, he retreats to his office to drown himself in work. Best to not let his emails pile up another day, he needed to confirm some show details and also make a few calls. Through sheer will power he will get through this day even if his skull splits clean open to birth the goddess, Athena. At least then he’d have another brain at his disposal.

He works to nail down as much as he can while dealing with the unpredictability of his headaches. Sometimes he’s focused enough that the beats blend marginally into the background. Other times they’re so intense he has a hard time concentrating even to type out a single word. Nobody ever talked about the discomfort when it came to soulmates and if they did they downplayed the pain.

People acted like finding your soulmate was like winning the lottery even though the odds were significantly more favorable. 90 percent of people would find their soulmate by the age of 28. It was more a matter of when then if at all.

Bakugo might be the only person who wishes the odds were more akin to the lottery. It would make life so much easier. Currently people would enter placeholder types of relationships knowing they weren’t a match. The only thing they were destined for was to break up when one of their soulmates came along. Bakugo might’ve preferred that scenario with Kirishima because then fantasizing about him wouldn’t have been so frustrating.

Kirishima was exceptionally handsome and that wasn’t Bakugo’s brain being chemically altered by their connection or some bullshit. Even when they first met Bakugo had thought Kirishima was hot. Strong jawline, long dark lashes paired with kind eyes and the body of an Olympic athlete, the kind they’d print on a million boxes of cereal. Bakugo would’ve made good use of a no stakes relationship with him.

Instead, he was contemplating how best to shut this whole operation down. Surely his unwillingness was enough but the way Kirishima looked yesterday had actually bothered him. It’s probably why Kirishima showed up in his nightmare, as if his mind couldn’t move past that face. The initial dread like all Kirishima’s hopes and dreams had been dashed when Bakugo said finding his soulmate was a terrible thing.

Bakugo shouldn’t have blurted his thoughts so openly. If he held his tongue, observed more, he would’ve been more tactful and found an easier way to let Kirishima down. Kirishima masked most of his discomfort but Bakugo could tell when they parted yesterday that he wasn’t okay. Bakugo doesn’t like being the root of the problem. To think anyone would care so much about his opinion of them doesn’t make him feel powerful it’s unnerving.

His eyes glaze over a draft of an email he’s double checking for spelling errors before sending off into the ether. Why couldn’t Kirishima be the one who wanted to end everything? In the contemplative space of sending off an email but not racing to compose a new one, it hits him.

Why couldn’t Kirishima be the one who wanted to end everything?

He was no magician but he was sure he could pull off that type of trick. He could make Kirishima believe that they were horribly wrong for each other. It wouldn’t even be hard to do since most people who knew him would already describe him as a difficult person. Bakugo’s brain was working as efficiently as a senior citizen completing a snow village Christmas puzzle at a retirement home for the 5th time. Everything was slotting into place.

All he has to do is act like he’s had a change of heart about getting to know Kirishima. Then in every opportunity he’d show Kirishima he wasn’t worth the trouble. He'd show him that a relationship was the farthest thing Bakugo was capable of and to enter into such would be madness. In the end Kirishima would have to be the villain and break up with him on his own accord.

He can already picture Kirishima pulling him aside somewhere private where he tearfully tells him it’s not going to work out. Bakugo would clearly be distraught, completely betrayed, all the while being able to secretly revel in going back to his boring normal life.

It’s no doubt the perfect plan and way better for his stomach. He didn’t want watch Kirishima turn into bleak shell of human being over being rejected by him. Besides, they still had to work together for the length of his contract. Bakugo’s plan though convoluted would be better for both of them in the end, wouldn't it? A particular string of loud heartbeats ring in his head and its enough pain he hunches over his desk clutching his head. He guesses he already has a starting place.

He was going to sleep with Eijirou Kirishima!

But, not like that.

When Bakugo emerges from his office still feeling off kilter by his headaches, but refreshed from internally plotting a war against his soulmate he finds the gallery hasn’t burned down. He’s greeted by a far stranger sight. Flowers. There are tons of rich red poinsettias taking over the front desk. Mina looks like a fairy sprouting from the blooms that surround her.

He has a lot of questions but this seems like an after-lunch problem. Nonetheless he picks up a single plant as he notices they each have folded notes attached to them.

12. When I was 12 years old my father passed away.

Hmmm, that was morbid. Bakugo sets the plant back down in its original spot. Mina who was filling out some type of spreadsheet on her laptop finally looks over at him.

“What the fuck is with all these flowers?” Bakugo asks.

“You told me not disturb you,” Mina says.

“Yeah but…this is weird.”

“You told me emergencies only and anyway they’re from your soulmate,” Mina tells him grinning and she holds up a sheet of paper. “I already deciphered and rewrote each note because I figured you might not have time to do it.”

He takes the paper from her and stuffs it into his pant pocket. He’ll read it later.

She then pulls out bouquet of roses from underneath her station and hands them to him. “All the plants were delivered at different times and the last delivery was roses. There was supposed to be a song with the bouquet but I told the singer you would hate that plus this is a business not an amateur talent show.”

Bakugo smirks at that and thinks Mina has just cemented his trust. She was right that he would’ve hated having to sit through a song. There is a note that comes with the roses and has the same lovely script penmanship as the other note he read. Wispy and delicate strokes are not at all how he thought Kirishima’s handwriting would look.

Can we start over? Please give me a call or text me any time. In case the flowers came out of order my number is-

Bakugo frowns perhaps because his war plans just got a huge wrench thrown into them. How much had all these flowers cost? Were roses more expensive to get during winter? Then to take the time to hand write all the notes and have everything delivered separately made the gesture seem rather grand.

Bakugo hadn’t been the best version of himself yesterday, so it made even less sense. Then today he was still scheming in his office. It’s not like Kirishima knew all of that though. Wanting to start over was the perfect next step for Bakugo to get closer and execute his strategy. He should be thrilled by this! So why did he feel guilty?

“When did the roses come in?” Bakugo asks.

“Probably a little less than an hour ago,” Mina says and Bakugo nods.

“Should I call him?” Bakugo sighs leaning on the only square of open counter space available.

“You should,” Mina’s gaze softens as she pets a petal of the poinsettia nearest to her “It’s so romantic I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes when they kept rolling in. The notes also seemed personal so sorry for reading them without your permission.”

Romantic, huh.

“It’s alright,” Bakugo commiserates with her “Thanks for decoding everything and keeping your word by not letting anyone bother me.”

Mina’s hand drops from the plant bunching in her lap and she looks up at him surprised. She probably hadn’t expected to be thanked by him. No one ever did.

Bakugo loved making a fuss at work and giving people a hard time when they did the bare minimum on the clock. But there had to be balance. Just as freely as he would rip someone apart, he’d also recognize people for genuine contributions.

“Detach all the notes and put them in a blank folder or envelope for me,” Bakugo directs “also please tell anyone who passes the desk to take a plant home. I’m going to lunch and maybe to make a phone call.”

“That’s great,” Mina smiles “I’m sure Momo, Midoriya, and Todoroki will be happy to receive a plant too.”

“Why those three?” Bakugo stops in his tracks.

“Because they’ll be the first ones to get them. I’ve been told you four always meet after lunch,” Mina says.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Bakugo says “No meeting today. Tell them it’s canceled again.”

“Are you sure?” Mina asks concerned.

“They can email any updates or questions to me and I’ll respond when I get back in,” Bakugo says.

“Okay,” Mina says though he can tell she’s skeptical of his actions.

No matter, Bakugo disappears down the hall and into the elevator. He’s still not ready to face everyone on his team and just thinking about meeting with them drained him. They’re going to try to give him advice on his soulmate but he’s already solved his problems.

He fiddles with the rubber band at the end of the bouquet of roses. The sooner he could get Kirishima to break up with him the sooner Kirishima could find a new person who deserved to be showered with his affection. Maybe he was in the rare five percent of people who had two soulmates. Bakugo fishes out his phone and dials the number on the card as he makes his way out the building.

“Hello.” Kirishima’s voice comes through the line a bit obstructed by loud music in the background but bright as always.

Bakugo holds his phone slightly away from his ear “Hey Red, I got your flowers.”

Kirishima makes some sort of choked noise, there is rustling movement, and then the music in the background cuts off.

“Katsuki!” Kirishima sounds relieved “I’m glad you called.”

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Bakugo asks pacing outside his workplace instead of picking a direction to seek out lunch.

“I’m free,” Kirishima says rather quickly.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow morning?”

“Um no, why?” Kirishima asks confused this time.

“I’m throwing a sleepover but it’s just you and me,” Bakugo says.

“I-that’s.” There are more strangled throaty noises across the line “You want me to sleep over your place?”

“Yes, if that’s okay with you? It’s mostly to get rid of your heartbeat in my head,” Bakugo adds.

“I see, so you’re no longer pretending it’s a migraine,” Kirishima says.

“It still feels like one,” Bakugo says “Do you want a free dinner and to help me or not?”

“Count me in,” Kirishima says “I’d be honored to help you because-“

“Don’t say it!” Bakugo threatens.

“You’re my soulmate,” Kirishima finishes.  

Why did nobody ever listen to him?

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.

Chapter Text

Bakugo feels the tickle of fine hair against his knees as he stirs awake. He’s turned over in his sleep judging by how his legs are tangled between Kirishima’s and his hands press into Kirishima’s chest. He jolts, then freezes, tries to be as still as possible under the weight of Kirishima’s arm draped over his waist.

His heart is beating fast but Kirishima looks serene with his eyes closed and face locked in sleep. Kirishima’s free hand is curled up near his face balanced against his forehead. His hair falls over his cheekbone and Bakugo has the urge to brush it away. He resists. Then he wonders how long he will be stuck like this?

He could at least try to wiggle his hands free from groping Kirishima’s pecs. That might help him calm down. He starts to slide them away while watching Kirishima’s face intently. A slight twitch has him immediately halting his movements. When the muscles in Kirishima’s face finally relax, he makes another attempt.

He tries slipping only one hand away this time but he doesn’t get very far. Unintelligible drivel hits his ears like a warning before he’s pulled tighter to Kirishima’s body. With a soft sigh he closes his eyes again willing himself back to sleep. It seemed the only solution. Plus, staying in bed together longer is to his benefit he justifies.

He’s warm; it’s not so bad.

…

When Bakugo awakes next the blinding brightness of the morning is forcing its way through his window shades and he adjust his eyes with a few blinks. Everything goes from hazy to sharp as he blinks out the sleep. Peering into red eyes he’s suddenly aware Kirishima’s no longer asleep. Their faces aren’t far apart which Bakugo quickly remedies by pushing away startled. The force nearly knocks him off the bed but Kirishima grabs tight to his arm steadying him.

“Good morning,” Kirishima says, then pointedly “Are you alright?”

“Fine, just fine,” Bakugo says sliding closer to make sure he’s not teetering on the edge of his bed.

“And how is your head?” Kirishima asks.

“Still attached to my body,” Bakugo quips.

“Right, but seriously how is your head?” Kirishima asks again.

“Better,” Bakugo says truthfully.

He was able to tell things had already changed. For one, no more roaring heartbeat besides his own to drown in. Well, if he focused, he could still tell Kirishima’s was there layered beneath. It’s almost like a sixth sense that he’s able to distinguish the two.

“What about you? Do you feel any different?” Bakugo asks.

“Let’s see,” Kirishima hums.

Kirishima leans in to set his hand on Bakugo’s face, thumb rubbing across his jaw. Bakugo’s breath hitches and his eyes widen in shock. The hand at his face is light but Kirishima’s eyes are focused, too serious in comparison to his actions. Bakugo isn’t sure what’s happening but he wants out of whatever it is fast before his face flushes. Kirishima’s brows arch up and then he pulls his hand away quicker than expected.

“Everything is normal for me,” Kirishima says.

“Yeah, fucking right,” Bakugo hisses “Why’d you do that?”

Kirishima mimes zipping his mouth and tossing away the key.

“You don’t get to mime your way out of a conversation,” Bakugo shakes his head.

“Usually works,” Kirishima shrugs.

“With who? Other mimes!” Bakugo says “Let me touch your face, then we’ll be even.”

Kirishima opens his mouth to protest but Bakugo is fast. He cups Kirishima’s face in his hands smiling as he does so. In seconds he either hears it or feels it? Kirishima’s pulse speeds up in his head and after a while it settles back into the background.

Bakugo’s jaw falls open in surprise. Kirishima’s cheeks are bright red and he sits up in the bed pulling away from Bakugo’s clutches. Bakugo moves to sit up too.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Bakugo asks “Should I still be noticing when there is a difference in your heartbeat?”

“Maybe…” Kirishima says.

“Are you able to notice with mine?” Bakugo presses.

“Yes,” Kirishima meets his eyes hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” Bakugo pokes him.

“Ow, dude stop,” Kirishima grabs his hand “I didn’t mention it because it’s not so easy to bring up and it doesn’t mean anything.”

“How do you know it doesn’t mean anything?”

“The only thing I can say with certainty is that I know your heart rate picked up. It doesn’t mean I can automatically determine what emotion you’re feeling because of it.”

“Do you have to touch me in order to tell?” 

“No but whenever I touch you, you freak out. So, it was the fastest way to see if anything changed for me.”

“I d-don’t freak out,” Bakugo sputters.

“Your heart does,” Kirishima says “but like I said, I don’t know why. Are you angry? Worried? When we were stuck, I assumed everything was because we were in a stressful situation.”

“That’s enough,” Bakugo declares “You do not need to spend so much time ruminating on my reactions.”

Bakugo lays back down in bed and pulls Kirishima back down along with him. He ignores Kirishima’s small yelp of surprise as he moves in closer resting his head and arm on Kirishima’s chest. He burrows his face in more trying to get a feel for his new firm pillow.

“I need an extra hour,” Bakugo says, then upon hearing Kirishima’s heartbeat quicken he adds “Are you angry? Worried? Or am I stressing you out?”

Kirishima laughs chest rumbling beneath Bakugo’s head “I wish I knew.”

Bakugo would never admit that having Kirishima over his apartment wasn’t as horrible as he thought it would be. He wanted it to be terrible but it wasn’t. His head clearing is giving him back his freedom in a way. No longer is he plagued by constant pain that takes up all his focus. He’s no longer feeling like an outsider in his own body or partly resenting Kirishima because of it.

Sorry this is all I can do.

Kirishima words replay in his mind. Why did Kirishima think helping him out was so insignificant? Bakugo doesn’t like that about him. It’s not often Bakugo relies on people to fix his problems and even rarer that they don’t understand how much it matters to him. He hates to be misunderstood but being fully transparent leaves him too vulnerable.

Yet, as Kirishima’s fingers idly stroke his shoulder, he can’t bring himself to say the five words he wants to.

Thank you for being here.

Bakugo shouldn’t be thinking about red haired, red eyed, and a red clothes wearing man on his way to work. His mind is fixed so why can’t he stop thinking about his soulmate? A guy who when he leaves his apartment tells Bakugo he’ll spend the night as many times as needed to help him.

Bakugo doesn’t like owing people and more nights meant more kindness to repay. He’s thankful one night was all it took to cure him. Still, there were the flowers too which arriving to work he no longer sees littering the front desk. He would think that meant the fairy princess would disappear but he has no luck there.

“Mornin’ boss,” Mina smiles as he passes by her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure this morning?” Bakugo asks.

“Midoriya’s doing studio visits again and he wanted me to let you know,” She flips back a few pages in her notebook “he said he emailed you something important.”

“Next time you see that dork tell him I don’t need to be personally reminded to check my email. I read them every day,” Bakugo says.

Mina’s eyes light up “Amazing! He told me if you said that to say,” She flips through more pages “he knows you wait until the end of the day to read and reply to all his emails but the one with the urgent subject line you should check first thing in the morning.”

“He’s pissing me off and he’s not even in the building,” Bakugo sighs.

“He means well. Do you want me to make sure nobody disturbs you again?” Mina asks.

“Yes, if anyone walks in with flowers or God forbid a song you have my say-so to shut it down. I’m allergic to grand gestures,” Bakugo says.

“Allergic? If you say so,” Mina says grinning “By the way you look a lot better today. Did anything good happen on your day off yesterday…maybe with your soulmate?”

“If it did the meddling front desk woman who doesn’t technically work here wouldn’t be privy to that information,” Bakugo says.

Nor would he share with the ones who did work there but that wasn’t the point. The point was he doesn’t quite like how she’s cozying up to him at his gallery. Bakugo marches off leaving her to-fingers crossed-consider finding a new profession.

Inside his office he takes off his heavy coat and tosses it over the chair at the window on the way to his desk. It’s great how simply not being riddled with headaches could change his whole attitude. He craves getting back into work, is excited to dirty his hands… that is until he reads Deku’s URGENT email.

It’s not the long information dumping paragraphs that could’ve been edited down for clarity’s sake that bother him. Nope, that’s normal when it came to Deku and it’s why he saved his emails for the latter part of his day. It’s the audacity in what is written this time that really irks Bakugo. Deku had to have made a mistake which is why Bakugo decides to call him to clear everything up.

Each ring of the line is long. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Bakugo urges as he waits for an answer. A generic voicemail message eventually plays filling him with insurmountable rage.

“Pick up your damn phone! I got your email,” Bakugo says into the recording.

He hangs up promptly and contemplates deleting the email so he can pretend it doesn’t exist.

Deku wants him to visit Kirishima’s studio in place of him and it’s going straight off the deep end as far as diving back into his work goes. If Deku was slammed by his schedule, he’d cover no hesitation but as he reads, he discovers Kirishima specifically requested him.

It’s all detailed in Deku’s email that they had been corresponding and Kirishima would prefer Bakugo to visit him. It has the wheels turning in Bakugo’s head to figure out what game Kirishima is playing at. Kirishima didn’t know how bad he was at being a liaison so it wasn’t to embarrass him. They had literally just seen each other and had both parted feeling completely fine and on as good of terms as Bakugo would allow.

Bakugo’s phone chimes and he snaps it up to answer.

“Hi Kaa-“

“Why the hell would you tell him I would visit his studio?” Bakugo interrupts.

“He begged me and because he’s your soulmate isn’t it a nice excuse to see each other during work.”

“But I don’t want to see him during work,” Bakugo says.

“Why not? He seems like a great guy I thought you would be thrilled to get to know him better.”

“No, I don’t want any part of it,” Bakugo says.

“Huh? I’m a little confused Kaachan, are you telling me you don’t care that you found your soulmate?” Deku questions.

“Not only that but after his contract is up, I don’t plan to see him,” Bakugo informs.

“That’s…unexpected,” Deku picks his words carefully.

“I haven’t been interested in finding my soulmate for years so why would I change my mind now?” Bakugo says.

“Not interested? Is this because-“

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I know what you’re going to say Deku,” Bakugo breath rushes out “you think I’m punishing myself because I bullied you when we were kids.”

“That is what I think and I sure hope I’m wrong,” Deku says “You’re my closest friend so seeing you force yourself to be unhappy would never make me feel good. You have to know that.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you. I have my reasons.” Bakugo says.

“And those are?”

“I’m not ready,” Bakugo says blatantly.

“You’re not ready?”

Another reason Bakugo hates his best friend is because the way he questions him makes him feel like a plane of glass. Transparent. Entirely vulnerable in a way that is out of his control.

“That’s what I said,” Bakugo can’t help the annoyance creeping into his tone.

“Yes but no matter what you say I’ve known since the day we met that you’ve been ready for a soulmate,” Deku says “If you’re scared, that’s normal.”

“I’m not fucking scared it’s Kirishima who should be-“He stops short but it’s too late to take back.

“Ahhhhhh I see,” Deku says smugly “You need a pep talk.”

“No, I do not,” Bakugo says.

“You’re smart, passionate, caring,” Deku lists “A great friend and even better business partner.”

“I knew all of that.”  

“If you don’t give it a shot you might regret it. Are you sure you’re prepared to live with that decision?”

Bakugo doesn’t have an answer so naturally he changes the topic “If I ask you kindly, will you visit Kirishima?”

Deku laughs on the other end of the line “I can’t do that.”

“Closest friend my ass,” Bakugo grumbles.

“If I wasn’t on my way to see Aoyama right now, I would go,” Deku says “You visit Kirishima this time and keep the conversation to strictly business. You’ll be fine.”

Strictly business. That seemed impossible when dealing with Kirishima. Bakugo had already taken note since the time in the elevator that he could be roped into talking about any topic.

“Aoyama is pretty far away are you going to be back in time for the after-lunch meeting?” Bakugo asks.

“That depends on if you’re planning to cancel it again,” Deku tells him.

“See you after lunch,” Bakugo says hanging up on him.

Bakugo takes down the address of Kirishima’s studio from the email and picks his coat back up on the way out his office. He’ll get this over with now so it can’t ruin his day. Mina asks how long he’ll be gone and he says forever just to see how she’ll react.

“So, after lunch then,” Mina jots down.

“Yes,” Bakugo responds turning away so she can’t see his smile.

Bakugo is now facing the cold two times more than normal so to say he’s displeased is selling everything short. He hates wandering in parts of the city he’s unfamiliar with and he clearly hates his soulmate for putting him in this spot. Kirishima is purposely torturing him. Bakugo is being forced out from his building for what? Kirishima’s not even buying anything.

Bakugo should have written in a clause about undue attention into the contract he made. A line about only meeting in the presence of others for anything business related. He should have foreseen the trouble Kirishima would bring.

Every brownstone looks identical to the last and occasionally they change into storefronts. When the blue line of his map directs him down a sketchy looking alleyway, he stops himself from screaming at the device in public. He dials Kirishima because his poor fingers will be solid ice the longer this journey takes.

“Hello Kats-“

“Is your studio down an ominous looking alley?” Bakugo cuts him off.

“Are you here already?” Kirishima sounds panicked which is strange because didn’t he want him there.

Bakugo takes it he’s in the right place so he follows the line to his destination. “The door is padlocked.”

The lock isn’t one of those easily cuttable ones that gets bike stolen. It’s a heavy mechanism with a number keypad and Kirishima rattles off nine numbers to open the door.

“There’s a staircase near the door,” Kirishima directs him “and it doesn’t smell I promise.”

“I’ll see about that,” Bakugo says making his way up hardwood stairs that get narrower as he climbs. Smells are not so high on his list of worries when the walls seem to be closing in. He feels squeezed getting to the top but the stairs let out into a wide enough hallway. Kirishima’s head pokes out a door smiling at him so Bakugo hangs up their call and meets him there.

“Welcome,” Kirishima says when they are face to face.

Kirishima looks different today, more- professional isn’t quite right, neither is sophisticated, maybe toned down. He’s wearing dark wash jeans and a dark green henley. Bakugo chocks it up to there being a lack of red in his outfit this time.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bakugo says gruffly pushing past him into the space.

Bakugo has never known what to expect when going to studios which is why he never liked visits. Every artist studio was so different. Ranging from chaotic pits where all hell broke loose to obsessively organized libraries with every pencil, pastel and paints being labeled and stored systematically. Kirishima’s studio is somewhere in between.

His easels are lined three in a row with a blank canvas on each and his brushes lay neatly arranged on a high table where his palette also sits. There are also canvasses in different stages strewn about the room. He has a three-tier rack with supplies but there seems to be no purpose behind where anything’s placed on it. His bucket for disposing rags is in the middle, solvents and spray paints sit at the bottom. Up top is tons of sketchbooks with stickers denoting the year on the spines.

Bakugo likes sketchbooks. When he’d take meetings with artist in person he used to ask to see them first. It’s probably why his hand reaches out on instinct. Kirishima doesn’t stop him so he picks one to flip through. The same year as the series he liked from Kirishima’s portfolio site.

He’s not disappointed at all seeing amid the myriads of studies and random one-off illustrations some turn into preliminary sketches for his larger paintings that year. Bakugo likes looking at the thumbnails, small fast drawings, and seeing how the composition changed multiple times. It feels like it gives insight into the inner workings of Kirishima’s mind.

There is something about the way he seems to stick to a few key elements and in every iteration changes them slightly either in size or placement. While some of his thumbnail drawings are crossed out with notes like “not working” he doesn’t give up on the initial idea he had. Across multiple pages it seems he gets closer with each attempt to nailing down everything exactly the way he wants.

There is a sadness when Bakugo gets to the end of sketchbook until he remembers there are more to look at. He starts for another but stops. He’s not here to pry open past years work so he resigns himself to actually doing what he set out to.

“I quite like your past work,” Bakugo compliments as he sets the sketchbook back on the shelf.

“So, you only dislike my most recent pieces?” Kirishima asks sitting on a tall wooden stool arms tense at his sides as he holds onto his seat.

Great, Bakugo is as terrible at this as he remembered.

“Nobody loves every piece of art they see,” Bakugo says and Kirishima winces.  

“But if I returned to the type of work of earlier series you would like it more?” Kirishima asks.

“Make no mistake, I want the artist you are right now,” Bakugo says looking him dead on “I want the art you’re producing today or I wouldn’t have shown up here upon your request.”

Dilly-dallying and a soft approach aren’t Bakugo’s style. He wasn’t going to go back and forth when all that mattered is having good work to display. The best work was the most recent as it culminated all the past experience. There was always natural growth through continually completing work and it was what made looking through portfolios exciting for Bakugo.

“I haven’t started painting but for the upcoming show I had a triptych in mind,” Kirishima smirks.

“Now we’re fucking talking,” Bakugo grins.

Kirishima gets up from his seat and goes to grab a sketchbook from off the floor. It sits on a circular fur mat that is out of the way from his painting area. Judging by the stray water bottles and clipped bag of popcorn it must be a spot Kirishima likes to sit. To doodle, to think, Bakugo can envision him sitting crossed legged examining his canvases from afar.

Kirishima hands over the sketchbook open to the pages with his newest thumbnails. He’s drawn up two figures lying on their sides and in the middle panel is both of the figures embracing. The obnoxious little red strings spread around the sleeping figures but in the middle panel the string is used more as a textural decorative frame.  

“What do you think?” Kirishima asks teeth clamping on his bottom lip.

“The figures being turned away from each other I don’t think is necessary,” Bakugo says slowly as he works through a critique in his head “It’s not lost on me that maybe that’s to emphasize their separation but I don’t see the need to do so when they’re on two different canvases already.”

In thinking about how he would sell the paintings he has to think of where he finds faults. The way Kirishima presents things so deliberately is hard to resolve. Many buyers liked literal work but more wanted to be led to the interpretation and Kirishima’s work isn’t subtle. The message is clear, the figures are clear, and the rendering will be executed flawlessly. In the end the type of buyer for these paintings are those already interested in the topic or simply like the way it’s painted.

“I was thinking about messing around with the positions a bit more,” Kirishima says “I need to make the pieces more personal too.”

“Sure, personal is good.” Personal, Bakugo can sell.  

He flips backwards in the sketchbook to see if there was any ideating beforehand and to get a glimpse at Kirishima’s most recent drawings.

“Don’t!” Kirishima warns quickly.

Bakugo looks up at him surprised but he already changed the page. As the paper falls aside Bakugo’s eyes land on it. He hums appreciatively staring at his own face in Kirishima’s sketchbook. The portrait is way too flattering. Hardly believable that Bakugo looks that peaceful or as pretty as a marble statue. His eyes are closed and there is no wrinkle in his brow from his usual hard glare. It’s like he’s…resting.

“Did you take a picture of me while I was sleeping?” Bakugo asks.

“No, God no!” Kirishima says quickly “I swear I didn’t.”

Bakugo doesn’t believe him. He looks so life-like in the drawing there is no way Kirishima didn’t have a photo of him.

“You need to delete it,” Bakugo tells him.

“I didn’t take any,” Kirishima repeats searching around for his phone to show him.

“You had to have a reference,” Bakugo says looking at how detailed his eyelashes are.

“Your gallery. There is a photo of you on the website,” Kirishima says “I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-“

“Stalked me,” Bakugo finishes amused.

Kirishima’s face flashes with physical pain like Bakugo’s words were a knife to the jugular. As if, his trial was already held and he was found guilty. Bakugo continues flipping back and the next spread has him chuckle. It’s all anatomical studies of feet. He flips back one more and it’s an illustration but unlike the overly bright colors of most his newer painting’s it’s in muted neutrals.

“I knew you were too good to be true,” Bakugo tells him “a stalker with a foot fetish. It all makes sense now.”

“Foot-” Kirishima chokes around the word “That’s slander.”

“Then tell me what should I think?” Bakugo asks closing the book.

“You gave me your name at Endeavor’s and I looked you up to find your gallery is what you should think,” Kirishima explains.

“That’s what led you to drawing me?” Bakugo asks.

“No that’s because I think you’re handsome but you knew that when I asked you to shake my hand,” Kirishima says awkwardly.

“I thought it was because I was interesting,” Bakugo pulls a pout.

“It was that too!” Kirishima rushes to say. He runs a hand through his hair anxiously before quietly adding “Though it was partly attraction on my end too.”

Bakugo swallows harshly not sure how he was holding himself together for so long when being bombarded with compliments.

“Draw me; don’t draw me,” Bakugo shrugs “I don’t actually care that much but if you wanted a picture all you had to do was ask.”

“For real?” Kirishima looks at him “You’d let me photograph you if I asked.”

“Sure, why not? We will have to draft a new contract for my feet though,” Bakugo clarifies.

Kirishima stiffens “I don’t have a foot fetish; I was brushing up on anatomy.”

“That’s what they all say,” Bakugo teases.

Kirishima groans walking over to him to collect his sketchbook.

“You shouldn’t have taken my criticism so seriously,” Bakugo says watching him set the book on table beside his easels.

Kirishima turns back around eyes wide “Huh?”

“Overly saturated, the feet,” Bakugo says “I was really running my mouth that day at Endeavor’s when I critiqued your painting. Like I said, you don’t need to change who you are for me.”

Kirishima’s ears turn red and then the color is fading down his neck and even though they aren’t touching Bakugo can still hear the slight change in the speed of his heartrate. It’s so odd having his head clear. He wonders if Kirishima’s heartbeat will forever be so noticeable.

“You know I don’t ask everyone,” Kirishima says.

“What?” It’s Bakugo’s turn to be confused apparently.

“To shake my hand,” Kirishima continues “I don’t mind if people want to check if I’m their soulmate but It’s only when I get this strong feeling telling me to find out that I’ve asked others.”

“How many times has that happened?” Bakugo asks.

Bakugo was the opposite when it came to checking for a soulmate. He knew it was a numbers game so he’d offer his hand to plenty of people. That was until he gave up on playing the game of course.  

“Three,” Kirishima says “one person became my best friend and the other two I dated for a while.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Bakugo questions.

“I was just thinking that my gut was correct. Without a doubt you’re worth getting to know,” Kirishima says smiling.

Bakugo hates how much he likes Kirishima’s smile directed at him. And how easy it is to smile back. To mirror that happiness without needing to interrogate it.

“Enough schmoozing, show me what else you’ve done,” Bakugo says.

“You caught me, I’m just trying to gas you up so I can get a few photos later,” Kirishima laughs.

“Just not my feet,” Bakugo repeats.

“You’re not going to drop that anytime soon, are you?” Kirishima sighs heavily.

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to hide it,” Bakugo says “If you’re after my feet it’s less pressure on me to perform so I’m okay with it.”

“Do you usually feel a lot of pressure to perform?” Kirishima asks staring at him.

Bakugo stills, he can feel the air thick between them as they lock eyes. Nothing is subtle when they’re together which is why Deku should’ve done this visit. This talk was not strictly business.  

Bakugo’s cellphone blares and it’s a welcome interruption to break up the criminal amount of eye-banging that was happening at what was supposed to be a purely professional visit. He gets his phone from his pocket and nearly does a double take at the name. Thumb gliding across the screen he picks up the call quickly.

“Hey brat, I see your phone isn’t broken.”

“I’m in the middle of work, Mom,” Bakugo says.

“I think work can be put on hold especially considering the situation,” Mitsuki Bakugo says in a way only parents knew how to do. Which was letting him know that he was in trouble without actually saying it. 

He can’t figure out what she has on him to be using that tone but it’s irrelevant. She’ll give him an earful no matter what he says at this point. She had a weird way knowing when to interject herself into his life. When he was on the verge of a breakdown in high school, she was there for him. When he actually crashed out in college, she was there for him. She did always carry his best interest which is why he would at least hear her out. 

“You have five minutes,” He says deadpan. 

“How generous of you,” Mitsuki says sarcastically “I only need one and will generously gift you the other four. I’m going to put you on speaker too so you can explain to your father and I why we had to find out through Mrs.Midoriya at yoga that you found your soulmate!” 

Damn.

Bakugo drags his hand down his forehead. He was going to murder a certain nerd after lunch. Kirishima looks at him concerned and Bakugo tries to silently pass along a message through his face that everything is fine.

“I only found out two days ago,” Bakugo says though he knows he wasn’t planning on calling home at all.

“And you couldn’t send a text or take a few seconds after work to call,” Mitsuki says.

“Frankly, it’s my life and none of your business,” Bakugo says pinching the brim of his nose.

“None of my-” Mitsuki gasps “Masaru please talk some sense into your son.”

“Hey Katsuki,” His dad’s monotone calm voice hit his ears.

“Hi Dad.”

Leave it to the she-witch to drag his poor innocent father into doing her bidding. When it came to his mom, he could be as sassy as he pleased because she would deliver it right back. It was her gift to come up with a stronger witty remark to whatever he said. On the other hand, his dad would never call him out on his bullshit which made him feel he really was being a bad son. It didn’t help knowing both his parents loved him endlessly.

“How is work? Did you sell a piece of art to that All Mighty person you were telling me about?”

“His name is All Might, Dad,” Bakugo corrects and Kirishima’s eyes shoot up at the name “And no I haven’t sold a piece of art to him yet.”

“That’s too bad,” Masaru says sincerely “I bet you’ll have a great story for me when you do.”

“Sure dad,” Bakugo says thankful, at least, that his dad wasn’t prying about his soulmate. 

“Oh-uh- anyway your mother and I shouldn’t be the last to know about your soulmate Katsuki.” 

Alright, he should’ve known his dad would cave. His mom was probably pouting or glaring daggers from across the room. It’s funny how authoritative his dad was trying to sound because of it.

“Yes dad, I understand,” he says feeling all the guilt dredge up.

“Is she a nice woman?” Masaru asks.

“My soulmate is a man,” Bakugo says.

“A guy!” He can hear his mother shout in the distance.

“Is he nice man?” His Dad continues.

Bakugo looks at Kirishima who smiles knowingly that he’s talking about him.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Bakugo says.

“Good,” His dads voice is warm “You know Katsuki, you should have called. Your mother is only upset because we want to be there for all your big moments in life while we still can.”

Oh brother, Bakugo sucks in a breath, as if his parents were going anywhere “Yes I know, I’m sorry I got distracted by work and didn’t call.”

His parents knew all the ways to break him. His mom was the single most intimidating women he ever met besides Ochako and his dad’s soft-spoken nature made people let down their guard and spill all their feelings. Bakugo’s parents could break anyone.

Huh…a new path was forming in front him. His parents would be the perfect accomplices in his plan to lose his soulmate. 

“Matter of fact, I’m so sorry that I should make it up to both of you,” Bakugo adds.

That’s all it takes for his mom to grab the phone and agree. She starts rattling off the exact story of how she found out probably to make him feel even more guilty. Instead, Bakugo mutes his side of the line and turns to Kirishima.

“Are you free this weekend?” Bakugo asks him “And I will need Friday night.”

“I teach an art class Sunday morning but should be free otherwise,” Kirishima says.

Perfect. Bakugo unmutes himself and listens to his mom describe her shock amidst whatever pretzel position she was twisted into at yoga.

“Hey mom, I’m still at work,” He reminds her “Would you and dad be able to meet my soulmate and I for breakfast Saturday morning?”

There is a long pause and it’s not because his mom is thinking about her answer but because she’s assessing him.

“That sounds wonderful…is everything okay, kid?”

“Everything is fine mom; I have to get back to work but I’ll text you the details.”

“Fine, we’ll talk Saturday,” His mom sighs “Love you.”

“Love you,” Bakugo grumbles out and ends the call.

Immediately he drops into crouch as if the whole phone call physically stole his energy.

“You good?” Kirishima asks from above him.

“My parents are so draining.”

“I called my mom the day we found out. I expected the call to be short but we talked all night,” Kirshima says giddy.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Bakugo says.

“They’re from a different generation,” Kirishima reasons “they put a lot of weight into finding a soulmate and combining families.”

“So does our generation.”

“Not nearly as much, plus many people our age pursue other goals.”

“Going by your paintings it seems like finding a soulmate was a massively important goal for you,” Bakugo says sitting down fully and spreading out his legs in a V.

“True, but that’s because I already accomplished my first one,” Kirishima says joining him on the floor. “My focus has shifted drastically these past two years.”

“What was your original goal?” Bakugo asks.

“To get a painting into Crimson Riot’s gallery,” Kirishima beams “My parents took me as a kid it blew my mind how large and imposing paintings could be. I knew I wanted to create art that feels strong and captivates people. Having my work there was all I thought I wanted.”

“Crimson Riot, huh?” Bakugo searches his memory.

He knows Crimson Riot’s gallery went through decades long swings of famous artists exhibiting. It was the type of gallery that had a solid reputation but was in a niche, mainly for abstract artists. How the hell did Kirishima even get in? His work was mostly realism. To do so must have been a huge feat in and of itself.

“Yes, I felt on top of the world when I showed there but after I struggled with motivation to keep painting,” Kirishima admits “I pushed myself so hard to achieve my dreams but realized I had never thought past that one goal.”

“I see, so now you’ve pivoted to soulmates,” Bakugo knocks Kirishima’s foot with his own.

“Sort of but who knows since I’m dealing with a guy who doesn’t even deem it a goal to fulfill,” Kirishima knocks his foot back.

Bakugo slowly gets up and he offers Kirishima his hand to get off the floor as well. Kirishima takes it and Bakugo hulls him up. “Maybe just like you I’ve got bigger fish to fry first.”

“Is that fish named All Might?” Kirishima asks not letting go of his hand.

“Yes,” Bakugo nods.

“Sounds like you’re going to need a big pan and lots of oil. We can find out where to get those another day but would you be interested in accompanying me for pizza down the street?” Kirishima asks swinging their arms.

“What?” Bakugo let’s go of his hand with a glare.

“It’s lunch time, I’m asking you on a date,” Kirishima says avoiding his eyes.

It was paradoxical the way Kirishima was assertive and meek at the same time. How he built up the confidence to say exactly what he wanted but then was bashful about doing so. Bakugo wants to turn him down. It would be easy to say he was here for work and nothing else.

It’s why he must do the opposite. How was he supposed to get Kirishima to want to end things if he balked at every instance of them being together? Including hours ago, when he was made aware he’d have to see him today.

“Is it mom and pop or a chain?” Bakugo asks. He wouldn’t call himself picky when it came to food but pizza was a different story. 

“What do you take me for?” Kirishima gasps offended “It’s a real spot with a brick oven, hand rolling calzones, and upselling cannoli. I have fallen prey to their sales tactics many times.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that last part,” Bakugo laughs.

“How can I be, they’re delicious,” Kirishima smiles.

“Fine,” Bakugo looks at the time on his phone and frowns “I’ll have to cancel a meeting though.”

“Eh, it’s just one meeting,” Kirishima says grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

“Right…one meeting,” Bakugo says following him.

What could go wrong?