Archive of Our Own ^beta

Summary:

Bakugou was supposed to be quiet.
That was the rule. That was his only rule.

Warm light filtered through the tall shelves, dust floating lazily in the air as Bakugou finished shelving the last book. He smelled faintly of old paper and coffee, sleeves neatly rolled, expression calm as always. A sanctuary of order.

Then the bell at the door rang.

Leather boots. Chain bracelets. A flash of red hair and a grin that never quite followed rules. Kirishima came in like a misplaced note in a perfect chord. too loud, too alive, entirely intentional.

“You’re late,” Bakugou murmured without looking up.

“Couldn’t resist,” Kirishima replied, already too close, fingers brushing his wrist. “You look cute when you pretend I’m not a distraction.”

They met between the shelves, surrounded by stories they’d both memorized in different ways. Bakugou tried to say something about rules, about closing time, but it dissolved when a warm hand cupped his face, when lips met his with a tenderness that felt stolen and sacred all at once.