Notes: I hope y'all had a great Vday yesterday! I know I did 🦀
So um, please don't get upset at me for what happens from this point further. 🌝
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"Prepare to be amazed!" Kirishima beamed from where he sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, fist pumping the air. Bakugou clicked his tongue, dawdling towards the wall to lean against it while Kirishima padded towards. Mina tied her sweater around her hips. Kirishima buzzed at his reflection in the mirror until eventually, Mina stooped down to play the song off her phone. Kirishima seemed to know the lyrics, which were... Spanish? When the fuck did he learn Spanish when he hardly had a firm linguistic grip on English. Bakugou hadn't the time to ask, because not only was he distracted by the hand on Mina's hip (which could easily be his hip after tonight), but the beat of the song picked up with sprinkles of a Latin melody that made the Spanish spewing from Kirishima's mouth earlier make much more sense.
Bakugou was no stranger to social dancing. He himself was forced to learn some of the shit by his parents for their more formal parties, which meant boring, old-timey dances like the waltz and foxtrot. Latin dance was the foreign, unmarked territory he'd never had a chance to sniff around until recently—that is, if that stupid Just Dance game counted his performance to Despacito as popping his Latin dancing cherry. One could argue that was just a game, practice even. Whatever those two idiots were doing with their hips and their feet and shit was the real deal. Advanced shit. Shit that if they asked him to do it, he could try, and then fuss about how shitty it is until he fucking masters it and outperforms them both. His brain rubbed its grimy little hands together. Denki did suggest he take risks, right?
"Teach me this shit," Bakugou demanded as soon as the song came to a close. He almost regretted it as soon as he said it, but the gleam in Kiri's eye and the way he excitedly gnawed his bottom lip overshadowed his internal, well, everything.
"Man, what? Do you know how long that would take?" Bakugou's attention went to Mina. Right, he thought, she's here too. Why did someone always have to invade his time with Kirishima?
"Mina, please!" Kiri begged, even going as far as pathetically getting down on his knees with his hands clasped under his chin. Mina crossed one arm over the other, twitching her nose as she scowled. It was a battle of will—whether or not Mina could resist Kirishima's puppy eyes—and she was losing.
"Fine! But since you made the moves, you teach him."
The exchange was short-lived and slightly one-sided, but her approval made Kirishima stupidly happy nonetheless, and Bakugou nearly forgot gravity existed when a firm hand grabbed his wrist, dragging him to the center of the floor. For his sake, they practiced without music first, showing him the basics of the meringue or cha-cha or whatever they based part of the choreography on. He (unfortunately) practiced with Mina first before graduating to Kirishima himself, who took over the rest of the teaching from there. It was ironic, really, him being taught something by Kirishima of all people. He'd been so used to being the one teaching the redhead, screaming at him when he got something wrong and literally beating information into his hard head with a rolled up workbook. Kirishima wasn't nearly as rugged; he was patient and energetic despite it being almost midnight. His tender teaching made Bakugou's insides liquify, and he found his hands to be clammier than usual. Rubbing nitroglycerin into his joggers probably wasn't a good idea in the long run, but shit, his nerves just weren't on his side for once. Or maybe they were just as excited as he was. Who knows? Hell, at least he'd smell fucking great by the end of the night.
"I'm gonna go get a snack!" Mina announced as she exited the room, finally leaving the two of them alone for once. Kirishima's hand was warm in his, and far less sweaty, too. They were a bit calloused around some areas of his palm, as were Bakugou's, but everything else was so fucking soft. He wondered how they'd feel on his—
"You think you're ready to try it with the music now, Blasty?" queried Kirishima before his thoughts traveled in an inappropriate direction. Those dreams were really starting to mess with his cognition.
"Fuck yeah," Bakugou replied. Kirishima grinned at him, then parted their dance stance briefly to turn on the music. Their hands molded into each other on one end, while on the other, Kiri's left rested comfortably on his shoulder whilst Bakugou's gripped at his hip. Kirishima mumbled the beginning lyrics between them before the beat picked up and Bakugou had to guide them. That was until the redhead had to break away from him to fulfill his solo parts of the hip-hop elements he entwined in the routine. Bakugou had his parts, too, of course, and he killed that shit; but he preferred dancing with the redhead over dancing alone, especially if it meant he could be a breath close without it being weird.
Kirishima had a strong habit of invading the blond's personal space, not that he minded it all that much after the first few occurrences, but being able to do the touching—pressing chest to chest to spin him around, fingers slithering across firm, contracting obliques, the wisps of red hair tickling his nose. Bakugou caught a heady waft of woodsy, earthy amber every time, and he noisily sucked in a breath when Kiri backed into his—the name of the song was Esta Rico, right? Right. He wondered what that meant.
It was an internal battle with his hormonal urges to do some stupid shit, forcing all his concentration on getting the choreography down pact. He spun the redhead, and as he stilled to the falsified ending of the song, Kiri cupped his jaw in his hand, inching his face closer to his own. Bakugou's eyes blinked wide and grew heavier as Kirishima's face clouded his vision. This was it, he thought, tongue gliding across his lips in anticipation of what was to come, but upon closing his eyes, he felt the presence in front of his face disappear as the music picked back up. His eye twitched as Kirishima danced away from him, his hand instinctively locking the redhead's wrists in a vice-like grip to pull him back and kiss him for real when he heard Mina whistle from behind them.
"Get a room you two!" Mina quipped, startling the both of them. Moments like this is what made Bakugou reconsider being a hero. If he murdered one person tonight, he could at the very least be an antihero, yeah? Mina crushed the plastic bag of chips in a closed fist as she stretched. "I was watching through the window, y'know. Great job guys... Can we go home now?"
"Sure!" Kiri chimed, backing away from Bakugou as if they weren't about to kiss. As if he wasn't blushing. As if Bakugou himself wasn't blushing either. Whether it was out of sexual frustration or anger was the responsibility of his brain to decipher. "It's late after all... "
Mina grunted in agreement, and after packing up everything they brought with them, they walked the short, cold trek back to their apartment, which was awkward in comparison to earlier when they had left. The blond kicked off his sneakers, stripping down from his joggers and shirt. Standing in nothing but boxers, Bakugou could feel a pair of eyes staring at his back. His suspicions were only confirmed when he peeked at the redhead and the boy's head dropped back down to the phone in his hand, though, the screen was off. Bakugou aggressively yanked his dresser drawer open. Pulling out a pair of shorts, he grumbled, "If you have somethin' to say, Red, go ahead and spit it out."
"Okay," the redhead chirped. "Um... Are you mad at me about—well..." Bakugou waited for him to finish, hiking his cotton shorts onto his hips. He dared to glance at him expectantly, seeing the redhead was twiddling his thumbs. "Did you, um... did you want me to kiss you?"
Want was an understatement. He needed to at this point. Bakugou cleared his throat, though it sounded more like a petty whine than anything. "Yeah, so what?"
"Do you... still want me to?"
I need it. "Yeah."
"Can I?"
I need—"Ask me another stupid question," Bakugou growled as he turned to the redhead.
"I just—" Kirishima fumbled with his word vomit as his mattress sunk under Bakugou's weight. "I don't wanna just do it and then you're like, 'What the fuck Kirishima?' And then I gotta explain myself and why I even tried to kiss you in the first place and—"
Grabbing the redhead by the collar of his shirt, he cut the rest of his sentence off, smashing his lips into his. At first, there was an awkward bumping of teeth and noses, but eventually, the two figured out the gist of the action, and Kirishima titled his head ever so slightly, his arms wrapping around the back of the blond's neck as the other's grip released on his shirt, one hand caressing the back of his neck while the other traveled up the back of his shirt instead. Kirishima gasped, and in that split second, Bakugou dipped his tongue into his mouth, quickly retreating it before tracing his tongue on the redhead's bottom lip. Kirishima's tongue shot back, prodding desperately at the other for more than just teasing. Obliging, the blond wrapped his tongue around the other's and lured him into his mouth, deepening their kiss. Kiri mewled in response, tightening his grip on the blond. Bakugou's hands slid to the other's hips, and he pressed his fingers into them, a subtle nudge resulting in their lowering onto the bed, the redhead automatically wrapping his legs around his waist. Bakugou eagerly pulled the redhead back into him, gripping his thighs as he released himself from their kiss, instead leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw as he made his way towards his neck, taking the supple skin into his mouth and sucking on it tenderly.
Kirishima whimpered, his breathing labored as he clawed at the blond's back, his fingers subconsciously hardening due to his quirk. Bakugou groaned against his neck, accidentally nipping at the skin that was currently stretched into his mouth. He could feel the redhead's hardened fingers digging into the skin of his back through his shirt, unintentionally ripping holes into it. Bakugou pressed himself against him, elated what started as mere dreams were finally becoming a reality. He wanted to treasure this moment. He wanted to mark him as his. He wanted to leave a streamline of hickies going from his neck to his navel, so he did, the sensual sound of Kiri's breathy panting and moaning quickly becoming his new favorite sound.
Kirishima's breathing leveled out once Bakugou eased up on the nibbling, satisfied at the bright, splotchy red marks he managed to leave as a reminder of what now belonged to him. He eventually came back up to his lips for another round of soft, meticulously placed kisses until he buried his head in the redhead's neck again, inhaling his intoxicating earthy scent. The two fell silent, enjoying each other's company on a whole new level than they did prior to this moment. As the moon cast a dim, silvery light into their room, the two slowly drifted to sleep.
"We're gonna need a bigger bed..." The blond grumbled. The redhead grunted a short-lived laugh, and falling back into a comfortable silence, fell into a luxurious sleep.
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Notes: Also last night I read through to the end of this story (my drafts) and I cried. Thattice all.