Work Text:
"I've walked around broken
Emotionally frozen
Getting it on, getting it wrong"
~~~
It was hard being in a relationship with such a tactile person like Kirishima.
Sometimes, Bakugou wanted to do was to sporadically grab his boyfriends’ hand and tug him towards the curry shop– where they sold Kirishima’s favourite noodles - but just the thought of touching someone’s hand made his skin crawl. The added insecurity that one day Kirishima might reject his tentative advances, curdled his stomach into a withering knot of anxiety.
He wasn’t ignorant enough to not understand he was emotionally constipated (no matter what Kaminari often said) so that raised the question:
Why would Kirishima want to be in a relationship with him?
He doesn’t like touching others, or being touched, so he obviously couldn’t fully express the love Kirishima deserves. Sure, he does have a banging hot body – he wasn’t blind – but that only went so far in a proper relationship with feelings. The question ran through his head like clockwork, keeping him up late into the night til a harsh light pierced through his curtains, only a cheery knock on the door snapping him out of his thoughts.
Before Kirishima burst into his life, he hadn’t ever considered being in a relationship. It was a liability, both on and off the field – the possibility of something slowing his training or being a exploitable weakness to villans, was unacceptable. He didn’t have time for extras in his life. If Bakugou told his past self, that one-day he would be in a committed relationship, he probably would have laughed and then tried to blast his face off for such an outrageous idea, let alone possibility.
It was hard to tell when exactly he had changed his attitude towards it – the obnoxious red hair and cheesy voice growing on him like a parasite - but it only truly struck him when he grasped the hand offered to him. His only thought in that moment, flying above the villans and possible death, was how easy it would be to pull Kirishima close and kiss him on those adorable lips. (The added risk of his lips accidentally being torn to shreds by pointy teeth, only added to his excitement,)
Kirishima was strong, an ally of unbreakable strength and a comrade in arms. Bakugou would trust his life (has trusted his life) in those strong hands and would do so again in a heartbeat. Sure, he would preach obnoxiously about how ‘manly’ things were; consistently fail math; have insecure moments of doubting himself; and die his hair the ugliest colour on the planet...
But Bakugou wouldn’t have it any other way.
He was not a weakness, but an asset to Bakugou’s life. Bakugou would become number 1, there was no doubt about that in his mind, but with Kirishima he wouldn’t mind sharing it. Together they would climb the ranks of hero’s, the strongest partners to ever set foot in UA and the world.
If he could say that to Kirishima, around the lump lodged in his throat, he would, but for now he could have to settle with a grunt and an upturn of his lips to convey his thoughts. The returning smile was enough to ease him and he allowed himself to be nudged towards the self-proclaimed ‘Baku-squad’ (he would rather die than admit this to Mina, but he quite likes the name of it – the idea of it being his).
Kirishima threw a casual arm around his shoulders, lightly so he could escape if he was uncomfortable and carefully not touching the sensitive skin on the back of his neck (the thought of hands wrapping around his neck making his flesh burn, paranoia crawling through his veins).
The arm’s constant weight was a comforting presence and he allowed himself to genuinely smile.
Maybe one day he could be able to reach out to hold Kirishima’s hand but for now, this was more than enough.