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20 Nov, 188 tweets, 23 min read
pro heroes don’t drink. pro heroes don’t drink. pro heroes don—

bakugou frowns as he watches a head of fiery red hair launch himself onto a table and stand up clumsily, his newly discarded shirt getting flung right into the blond’s face.

pro heroes /shouldn’t/ drink.
//cw: alcohol (responsible enough), pro hero krbk, drunk confessions, idk do i need to put a cw for a steamy makeout sesh you tell me
“shitty hair, get the fuck down here. are you fuckin’ stupid? you have an /image/,” bakugou snaps at him, glaring as kirishima chugs a glass far too fast for all of the contents to even make it in his mouth.
bakugou’s hands clench around the shirt kirishima had discarded just seconds ago and he fights the urge to bark at the people very obviously checking out the pro as his throat bobs with a chug.

this isn’t how he had planned for his saturday night to go.
when eijirou had invited him out, he had expected them to just grab dinner. that was something they normally did on the weekends.
they’d go to the cute little cafe on the corner by bakugou’s apartment and kirishima would pretend he didn’t mean to brush his knee against bakugou’s and bakugou would pretend that he didn’t notice. it was how it was and it was tradition. he expected tonight to be no different.
what he sure as hell didn’t expect was for kirishima to drag him into some underground, way too sketchy bar with the rest of their friend group and get absolutely trashed as if he were some dumb teenager drinking for the first time.
no, this is /not/ how katsuki planned for his saturday night to go.

at. all.
he wasn’t some lame extra, he knew how to let loose. so after getting over his initial shock that, yes, ei really did drag him here, he lets himself drink some. he’s not a light weight by any means but even he gets a little lax after the buzz of a few drinks trickles through him.
he knows how all their friends act drunk. they’d done this a enough times over the years that he had become slightly accustomed to their liquid courage mannerisms. and, surprisingly, he discovered very quickly who liked drinking and who didn’t.
mina, kaminari, and kirishima loved it. maybe a little too much, especially with the very light tolerance they each had for booze. and they each got their own type of crazy after knocking some back. sero was impartial, as he was with most things. but he wasn’t entirely opposed.
mina wasn’t too bad to handle. she could get a little touchy, but not in the freaky or nasty way. she liked cuddles when she drank too much and that was the only time bakugou would ever let her touch him so freely. it’s easier than dealing with her pout when she says no.
kaminari on the other hand is a total fucking mood killer. he cries, and cries, and cries a little more about god knows what until he finally finds someone’s throat to shove his tongue down. sometimes it’s a sero, most of the time it’s a stranger. it’s always something he regrets
sero, as much as bakugou /still/ finds it hard to believe, doesn’t care much for drinking. he says he doesn’t like how it makes his mind fog over in all the wrong ways, and he gets too sick too easy. which means he only drinks a little or never drinks at all. bakugou likes that.
then there’s kirishima. god, the man’s a wild card. he’s either ass all out or glued to his seat any time a single drop of alcohol seeps into his system. bakugou’s seen his fair share of both, and he’s very much partial to the calm and quiet side while he drinks.
tonight he isn’t lucky enough to be faced with that side.
“come /on/, blasty. i took you out to have a good time, so have some /fun/,” kirishima smiles from where he stands on the table, totally not tripping over his own two feet and nearly falling off completely.

bakugou has half a mind to let him.
maybe the fall will knock some sense into his stupid, gorgeous, thick skull.
“i can have plenty of fun without acting like a total fuckin idiot,” katsuki snarls, holding his hand out for the redhead to take. “now get your ass down here, if you bust your head open before we sign for our partnership i’m gonna kill you.”
kirishima takes his hand with a wide dopey smile—fuck, bakugou’s tipsy little heart skips—and launches himself off the table so that he collides heavily against the blond’s chest. katsuki huffs, his already flushed cheeks now scalding as he shoves him off and heads to the bar.
and, of course, kirishima follows suit, letting out a soft ‘hmph’ when bakugou tosses his shirt in his face with a glare over his shoulder. bakugou wants to be mad at his little strip of an act, but finds it hard when he looks so pretty under the dim lights of the club.
they’d been here a few hours already, and katsuki’s ready to go home. he’s sweaty, his clothes feel disgusting, and he knows if he drinks any more he’ll end up more on the drunk side rather than just a tad buzzed. and he sure doesn’t need to do /that/ in such a public place.
but as soon as they reach the bar, kirishima is already perking up at the hope of more drinks before bakugou quickly shoots him down.

“no, you’re cut off, dumbass. i’m just getting some water before we go.”
“/we/?” kirishima asks, a tinge in his voice that bakugou isn’t quite familiar with, and his cheeks heat up at the realization of what he said.

god, this is a bad idea.
“yeah, /we/. my apartment is only a few blocks away and yours is all the way across town. i’m not fuckin letting you go off on your own like /this/,” he scoffs, gesturing a hand down all of kirishima and passing the bartender a tip.
bakugou doesn’t miss the sudden lights behind the crimson of kirishima’s eyes or the way his goofy grin twists into a slight smirk as he leans forward to wrap an arm around katsuki’s waist.

he gulps, bites the corner of his lip, and tenses as he feels ei’s breath on his ear.
“so considerate, aren’t you?” eijirou chuckles. “you’re so good to me.”

he’s so close—too close. it’s so hot in here. oh god, did bakugou drink more than he initially thought? no, he’d been responsible. he’d cut himself off after just a few. he’s fine. he’s /fine/.
so why does his head suddenly feel like it’s spinning and his stomach feel like it’s being assaulted on a roller coaster?
before he can even attempt to croak out a response to the man on him, kirishima gives bakugou’s waist a light squeeze and pulls away, throwing his shirt around his neck like a towel and smiling ever so innocently down at bakugou.

“ready to go then?”
oh, this isn’t fair.
bakugou grunts, leaning away from the bar and looking around to see where the rest of their group is. he catches sero’s eye just as he’s about to walk out the door himself, a hammered mina and denki under each arm. he flashes bakugou a smile before ducking out under the neon sign
good, that’s less bakugou has to worry about then.
he doesn’t even bother glancing back to kirishima as he starts pushing his way through the crowd of wasted and sloppy bodies all meshed together, dancing way too close with people who are way too much of a stranger for them to even be comfortable with.
bakugou never really understood how people could do that.
he’s not a sap, he doesn’t care about all that intimate shit or whatever. but showing up to a bar and letting some dumb, random extra grind on you and maybe take you to the bathroom later didn’t really sound all that appealing.
but then again, maybe that’s just because he’s way too in love to even think about entertaining that idea at all.
he mentally slaps himself as he remembers his current situation. now isn’t the time to think about how all he wants to do is have kirishima sign a marriage license rather than a partnership contract. not when he’s drunk and far too prone to act out on his emotions.
god, he really wishes they would’ve just went to that café.
as soon as the cold air hits his face as he steps out of the grimy little bar, he already feels a bit better. he doesn’t feel caged in, doesn’t feel stuffy.

he sucks in a breath.
“you know,” kirishima says as he steps right up beside bakugou, lacing their fingers together and swinging their hands as if it were second nature, completely normal.

it makes bakugou’s stomach do somersaults.
“i didn’t think you’d stay once you found out where i was bringing you tonight,” he finishes, his sentence dipping off with a giggle.

bakugou frowns.

“well, someone’s gotta take care of you dumbasses and i didn’t want soy sauce to have to deal with it alone.”
it’s part true. as much as he would deny it, he would feel guilty if he made sero handle the three of those idiots drunk all by himself. he may be an asshole but he’s not a dick.
but, he also stayed because he didn’t want to risk kirishima taking some complete stranger home.
so he’s a little possessive. sue him.
he tries to suppress the tiny little sparks flittering off his palms as he and kirishima walk down the sidewalk, shoulders bumping and steps staggering ever so slightly.
maybe the alcohol is just now hitting him, or maybe he’s feeling a little drunk on something else entirely. either way, katsuki is suddenly completely and utterly intoxicated.
it’s kirishima who tugs forward more urgently towards bakugou’s apartment building, now twirling his shirt in the air as he hums out some song bakugou remembers from the club. he shouldn’t be allowed to be this pretty. not when bakugou isn’t allowed to have him.
the moon is hitting his skin just right and the street lamps are doing wonders illuminating the dips and curves of eijirou’s toned back as he strays just a little too far ahead, katsuki’s hand long forgotten. it’s like a taunting game off keep away, and kirishima is the ball.
but, you know, katsuki always did excel in competitive games in school.
kirishima isn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, just enough that he knows he’s walking in the right direction, and bakugou nearly curses him when he has stop him from running into someone. and then into a lamppost. and then he almost trips over a fire hydrant.
bakugou is totally going to make kirishima buy him katsudon for this.
it doesn’t take long to get to his apartment building and takes even less time for kirishima to make a beeline to the elevator and start pressing buttons. luckily, he did end up hitting right number, and bakugou sighs as he steps in and the doors close.
the mood shifts once the lift starts moving. it’s just the two of them and for some reason the four walls feel like they’re getting closer and closer and closer.

or maybe that’s just kirishima.
he’s right behind bakugou, a bare chest brushing up against a clothed back every few seconds. katsuki can smell the alcohol on eijirou’s breath as he leans forward onto him, lips pressed against his shoulder. not moving to kiss, just staying for contact.
oh, bakugou is /so/ wasted.
not on the drinks he had at the club, though he’s definitely starting to feel the effects of those too, but on kirishima.

kirishima. kirishima. kirishima.
/eijirou/.
“yeah?” the redhead’s lips mumble against his shoulder, fingers ghosting over bakugou’s hips.

oh, he’d said that out loud.

shit.
katsuki tries to think of something to say in his half drunken state that will make sense. some lame excuse to brush off him saying eijirou’s name like that. and he almost has one, almost pushes the words out his mouth—
when suddenly there’s a very warm set of lips taking purchase on his throat.
katsuki has never jumped away from someone so fast in his life.
his face has to be bright red, he knows it is. he can feel the heat radiating off of it as he stares with wild eyes at the man in front of him, his best friend, who just put his lips on him like he’s wanted him to do for /years/.
and katsuki had the fucking gall to jump away.
coward.
“the fuck was that?” he asks, hand grasping at the wall behind him. he almost feels guilty at the suddenly shy look on eijirou’s face, his own cheeks dusted a light shade of pink.

stupid bulk of a man acting all bashful and cute and shit.

stupid.
“i just—it’s just us in here and you said my name all sweet and it just made my brain feel all fuzzy so i—“ eijirou looks like he sobers up, for just a second, as his eyes shoot a millimeter wider. “/oh/, i’m so sorry, bro.”
bakugou is instantly reminded how wasted kirishima is as he stumbles when the elevator jolts to a halt. it shouldn’t be a problem, he isn’t fully sober either, but he’s hit with the sudden realization that maybe bringing kirishima home like this wasn’t the best idea after all.
“c’mon,” bakugou grumbles as the elevator door slides open and he quickly steps out, heading directly to his apartment at the end of the hall. he hears kirishima’s footsteps following him, and glances back to see a pout on his lips.
his stupid, totally not irresistible, definitely not kissable lips.
fuck. bakugou is so screwed.
his fingers fumble for a second with his keys but he manages to get his door open without much of a hitch. he slips into his apartment and immediately slides off his shoes, making a beeline for his bedroom.

he really wants a shower.
“water,” he says to kirishima before he turns the corner, looking back to watch as the redhead takes his own shoes off. “get some water in your system. i’m going to clean up, i feel nasty as shit.”

“gotcha, man!” he beams.
with that, bakugou weaves through his semi-spacious apartment and into his bedroom, grabbing a pair of clean sweats and underwear before heading down the hall and to the bath.
he catches a glimpse of kirishima walking into the living room, already in the process of chugging half a water bottle down with another tucked under his arm as he slinks to the couch, crashing down unceremoniously. bakugou snorts as he starts singing again, out of tune.
it’s stupid, how fucking crazy kirishima makes him. all it takes is one glance, one smile, one brush of his knuckles and he’s got bakugou weak in the knees, acting like some swooning teen who’s just got their first crush.
well, technically eijirou /is/ his first crush.
they’re just not kids anymore.
he presses his forehead against the shower wall and lets the water hit his back, rolling over his tense shoulders and washing away the sweat from the night’s previous adventures. it’s calming, soothing, warm.
warm..
just like the lips that had pressed against his neck and—
bakugou headbutts the wall out of pure frustration, not even flinching as the shampoo bottle gets knocked to the shower floor due to the impact.

he’s gotta clear his head. he has to stop thinking about it. it was nothing. kirishima’s just drunk.
he’s just drunk.
what he’s doing right now doesn’t mean anything.
he’s just being ei.
and katsuki’s going nuts.
he takes his time with the rest of his shower and dries off, throwing on the clean pair of sweats he had grabbed from his room. he has half a mind to not even go check on eijirou, just go straight to bed and act as if everything is fine.
but he can’t. because it’s ei.
he’s always had a soft spot for ei.
so he opens the door, his hair still damp and a few stray drops dripping onto his shoulders as he pads barefoot down the hallway, scratching his bare stomach. the tv’s on, some stupid informercial playing, and eijirou has his back to him as he sits on the couch.
“oi, did you drink enough water?” bakugou asks as he bypasses him to trail to the kitchen, getting his own bottle of water from the fridge.

eijirou mumbles out a soft “yeah” as he steps back into the room.
katsuki notices it now, the trembling of eijirou’s hands wrapped around his water bottle, the slight shake in his shoulders. eijirou’s eyes are cast down, his face shielded by the bangs that had slipped out of his loose ponytail. it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s crying.
“shitty hair, the fuck’s wrong?”

eijirou shakes his head quickly as katsuki walks over to him, standing in front of where he’s sat on the edge of the couch cushion. he sniffles and rubs at his face, letting out a shaky breath.
“nothing, i’m fine, dude. i’m good,” he wavers, and katsuki can hear the fake smile in his voice.

it makes his stomach twist up, a sick feeling overflowing him and tingling deep within his bones. he doesn’t like it.
“ei, what the fuck is wrong?” he asks again, tossing his water bottle to the couch and placing his hands on the side’s of eijirou’s face to tilt his head up.
bakugou’s heart shatters.
kirishima’s eyeliner had been smudged before they had even gotten home from the club, but now it’s all but wiped off and smeared, his eyes red from being rubbed at to keep tears away. his cheeks are flushed, but not in the way katsuki loves. it feels so wrong.
eijirou looks up at him, pretty little red eyebrows cinched together and his eyes glistening, his bottom lip wobbly between sharp and pointed teeth.

he shakes his head again.
what the hell had happened from the time bakugou went to the shower and now? he hadn’t been gone long, ten minutes maybe. i mean, eijirou looks to have sobered up a little but if anything that should be good, so why is he—
“you left me.”
bakugou’s face twists up in a confused scowl as he cups eijirou’s cheeks in his hands, thumbs stopping their brushing along sharp cheekbones.

“i just went to take a shower, shitty hair. what’re you talking about?”
eijirou stares at him as if there’s a million thoughts zooming through his mind at once before his arms reach out and wrap around katsuki’s thighs, making him stagger closer a few steps as he buries his face in his stomach.
“just, don’t walk away from me again. please don’t walk away. /please/.”
katsuki doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand what’s warranting this and the words spilling out of his best friend’s mouth, but he doesn’t argue. he lets a hand drift through eijirou’s hair, pushing back some bangs.

“okay,” he assures, “okay, i won’t.”
that’s all it takes for eijirou to relax a little, though his grip remains tight around katsuki’s thighs. katsuki finds his face heating up again and instantly scolds himself for it. eijirou was just crying two seconds ago for fucks sake, now isn’t the time to get all flustered.
which he would have been more than capable to do, had eijirou not started to rub small circles into the side of his thigh with his thumb.
it’s innocent, but it sets katsuki’s entire body on fire.
he tries to stand still, act as if the proximity to the beautiful bastard isn’t doing anything to him, but he starts to squirm. and of course, eijirou notices.

dumb idiot notices everything.
“kat?” eijirou asks as he leans back, his arms loosening until his hands are just resting on the back of katsuki’s thighs.

katsuki avoids looking down, doesn’t want to see the soft and warm expression he knows is on ei’s face right now. doesn’t want to get lost in it.
ei is just so easy to get lost in.
“katsuki,” eijirou repeats, hands gripping a little harder on the back of katsuki’s thighs, and katsuki curses himself for the nearly silent gasp that slips past his lips at the feeling.

he blames it on the alcohol.
“/what/,” he snaps, a little too harshly, as he dares to glare down at the man in front of him.

“your face is really red.”
oh this fucker is /so/ dead.
“maybe that’s cause it hot in here and you’re a human fucking heater that’s clinging to me like a damn toddler!” katsuki seethes, shoving back at eijirou’s shoulders in an attempt to weasel his way out of his grip.
but eijirou doesn’t budge. he hardens his hands around the back of katsuki’s legs, and the blond curses the gods and everything on earth for making eijirou so goddamn strong for no fucking reason.
“let go! you’re acting all weird right now and it’s totally starting to—“

“dude.”

“—piss me off so get your stupid fucking hands off me and—“

“kat.”

“let me just go to bed so i won’t have a fucking headache in the morning—“
“/katsuki/.”
the blond pro stops his thrashing long enough to glare lasers into his counterpart, chest heaving from his sudden exertion and hands popping against eijirou’s bare shoulders.

“fucking /what/, shitty hair?”
“i’m in love with you.”
the crackling coming out of his palms stops, his breathing right along with it, and he feels a buzz of static crash through his nerves and twist in the bottom of his spine.
those are the words he’s wanted to hear come out of eijirou’s mouth for /years/. the words he hoped would slip up during a spar or a study session or at their hero debut or maybe when they first started talking about a partnership. he’s wanted to hear them for so long.
and now that he is, he finds himself not even being able to entertain the possibility.
“you’re drunk,” he spits, hands balling into fists.

“i’m /fine/,” eijirou retorts, clawed fingers digging into katsuki’s thighs. “and i wouldn’t have ever been able to tell you completely sober.”
“/you’re drunk/.”

“kat—“

“i don’t want to hear this.”

“katsuki, i’m sorry! but i couldn’t just not tell you, especially with us signing our partnership contract in a few days—“
“/no/, you’re drunk, you asshole! you tell me the words i’ve been wanting to hear my entire life when you’re drunk, do you have any fucking idea what that feels like? trying to decide whether or not you actually even /mean/ it or if you’re just too fucking wasted to know better?”
“kat, i would never lie to you—“

“sober! you would never fucking lie to me sober, but you’re not! are you seeing the fucking problem?”

“you aren’t sober either!”

“that’s not the point!”
they’re both glaring at each other now, though katsuki’s holds a little more fire. he’s pissed, not particularly sure at what, but he has the strong urge to go out and blow something up. maybe if he just went to that deserted warehouse and—
“in the morning,” eijirou starts, voice more hoarse now than before, “i’ll tell you again in the morning. and every day after that. and any time i get the chance. i’ll tell you as many times as it takes until you believe me. i’ll tell you sober. because i’m not lying.”
bakugou feels a heat pool behind his eyes that he doesn’t particularly like and he doesn’t realize he’s being pulled forward to sit until he’s straddling eijirou’s lap, one hand pressed to the small of his back and the other combing through his hair.
eijirou’s cheek presses to the top of his head as katsuki noses his way into the crook of the redhead’s neck, letting his body relax against him. they’ve held each other before, clung to each other before, but this is different. bakugou can feel it.
“if you don’t tell me in the morning, i’m totally blowing your ass to shreds,” he mumbles against the column of eijirou’s throat.

he feels the vibrations from where his chest is pressed flush to eijirou’s and lets his partner’s laughter rumble through him, soothing.
“earlier, in the elevator,” eijirou’s hands drag down to settle on katsuki’s hips, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—that wasn’t—“

“‘s fine,” katsuki shakes his head, sighing against eijirou’s collarbone. “just caught me off guard.”
“it’s fine..” eijirou repeats katsuki’s words as if he’s trying to etch them into his brain, “so does that mean i would be allowed to do it again?”

katsuki leans back enough to study eijirou’s face, searching for any trace of a joke or falsity. but there’s none.
“are you saying you want to do it again?”

eijirou’s throat bobs as he nods, fingers digging into katsuki’s hips as he nods his head, eyes drifting down to katsuki’s lips, a blush high on his cheekbones.

“more than anything.”
“then what’re you waiting for, dumbass?”
eijirou’s mouth is on his before he can blink. hot, wet, the taste of liquor ever so prominent as he pushes his tongue past katsuki’s lips. katsuki can’t help the sound that is pulled from the back of his throat, his fingers finding purchase in bright red locks.
this isn’t how he planned for their first kiss to go. he had expected something softer, gentler, not as eager. but it’s good, and it dulls the ache in his chest and fills it with a solid warmth. a contentedness.
he tugs eijirou’s head back to deepen the kiss.
one of eijirou’s hands slides up his back and bakugou’s eyebrows furrow as he feels the still hardened fingertips run up his spine, causing chills to tickle the ends of his nerves. his fingers tug harder at scarlet locks, rubber band finally losing its grip in the loose ponytail.
they break apart a moment later so bakugou can catch his breath, lips tingly and exhales shaky, but kirishima doesn’t seem to need much time to regain his. his lips trail down katsuki’s jaw, drifting along his neck, teeth nicking the skin as he places open mouthed kisses.
it’s new, it’s different.

something about kirishima and bakugou’s relationship has always been intimate, but this is like diving off a bluff into molten lava and the push just happened to be burning alcohol.
and katsuki isn’t sure he can do anything but give into the blaze.
when eijirou noses against his throat, katsuki knows enough to tilt his head for him. he lets one of his hands detangle from red locks and trail down to eijirou’s shoulder, nails digging in as he fights off the tranquil sigh threatening to spill out of his lips.
he decides that would’ve been a lot less embarrassing than the caught off guard gasp he lets slip out a second later when eijirou finds a specific sweet spot he didn’t even know he had.
eijirou makes a delighted hum in the back of his throat when he pulls the noise out from katsuki, as if he’s just found the piece of candy he’d been looking for in the console of his car.
katsuki wants to curse him for being a cheeky bastard, knowing damn well eijirou had been searching for that spot the whole damn time just based on his reaction. but he isn’t sure what pisses him off more: the fact that he was looking for it or the fact that he found it.
his mind goes foggy before he can decide on an answer.
he’s sobering up fast, and he can tell eijirou is too because his movements aren’t as sloppy, aren’t as rough. they can’t hide this under the blanket of intoxication anymore. the alcohol running through their system can’t be held accountable.
which may be why katsuki arches into kirishima more, tugs his mouth closer, let’s more soft sounds slip out. because if this is going to be real, then he sure as hell isn’t going to let anything dampen it.
he’s going to fan the flame.
the next thing he knows there’s hands under his thighs and he’s being lifted up. he’s aware enough of his slightly blurry surroundings that eijirou is carrying him to his bedroom, and flinches just a little when the door slams open against the wall.
“sorry,” eijirou mumbles as he pulls his lips up to hover over katsuki’s once more, a laugh on the tip of his tongue.

“dumb, strong idiot,” katsuki miffs out, a smirk curling up the corners of his mouth.
eijirou seals off the insult with a kiss, breaking only when he drops katsuki onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress with a muffled huff. katsuki takes the opportunity to admire the man standing at the end of the bed.
his hair —thanks to katsuki— is ruffled and messy, there’s a light flush spreading from his cheeks to the top of his chest, and suddenly the smeared eyeliner looks way hotter than it should.
kirishima climbs onto the bed, pulling katsuki’s legs over his own before trailing them up to rub along his sides, thumbs over his ribs.

“is this—“

“if you ask if this is fine i’m going to beat the fuck out of you.”
a chuckle bubbles out of eijirou’s lips, a sound that would make an angel jealous, and katsuki finds it impossible to stop himself from grabbing the back of the redhead’s neck and tugging him down to kiss him. eijirou gladly accepts being shut up this way.
one movement fades into another. a press of lips. a caress of fingertips. the hollow of a throat. the dip of a chest. the tensing of thighs. the arch in a spine. it’s fluid, melting, molding.
it’s intoxicating.
katsuki wakes up to the sunlight streaming into his bedroom window, warm and soft on his bare back. he stretches out in bed, a groan rolling through him as his spine pops and his joints crackle. he pauses when he realizes it’s not just his back bare, but everything.
and then he remembers last night.
he smiles at first at just the thought of it, a tepid pit forming in his stomach. he can almost still feel eijirou’s hands on his skin, his lips, his touch. he gets lost in the feeling.
until he realizes he’s in bed alone.
his heart sinks and he pushes himself up in bed. he’d thought— he thought that eijirou would /stay/. he had begged katsuki not to walk away, not to leave, and now he’s not here. he’s not next to him. he’s not in bed. he said he would tell him he loved him in the morning.
he lied.
katsuki flings the blankets off of himself and slides out of bed, feet landing a little too heavy on the hardwood floor. his hands ball into fists and he holds them up to his forehead, blinking past the headache threatening behind his eyes.
he’s so stupid. he’s /so fucking stupid/ for believing the words of a drunk idiot that has always been able to convince him of anything and everything at just the bat of an eye. how could he be so fucking foolish? how could he be so dumb?
he wills himself not to cry, forces the tears to remain unshed and behind his eyes as he stomps through his bedroom, ignoring the ache coursing through his body from the night before. the ache eijirou put there.
he’d given the bastard everything all in the span of twenty four hours and he had the fucking audacity to run out and leave him alone in bed.
katsuki’s going to kill him.
he’s debating whether to call or text eijirou in order to chew his ass out as he grabs his phone off the dresser and heads to his bedroom door. he flings it open angrily, almost as hard as eijirou had last night, and unlocks his phone.
he scrolls through his contacts, pressing way too hard on his screen, and trudges into the hall. he isn’t sure what the hell he’s going to say to eijirou the next time he sees his stupid, shitty face but it’s probably not going to be anything he should repeat in front of a lady.
he’s just about to click on the contact name “ei” when the sound of the bathroom door creaking open hits his ears. his head snaps up and he sees the steam rolling out and into the hallway in front of him. followed by the very man who he’s pissed off at.
eijirou steps out with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair hanging down his shoulders in thick, wet strands. as soon as he sees katsuki standing in the hall he smiles and starts taking quick steps towards him.
katsuki’s frozen in place, gripping his phone in one hand as the other stays balled into a fist at his side. he can’t even react whenever eijirou steps up to him and uses his free hand to tilt his chin up and kiss him completely senseless.
what the fuck?
“good morning,” eijirou beams as he pulls away, rubbing his thumb over katsuki’s bottom lip. “how you feeling?”

katsuki snaps out of his trance.
“you asshole!” he shouts, pushing back against eijirou’s chest, staggering a few steps. the redhead’s smile falters as he places a hand on where katsuki had just shoved his chest.

“what—“
“you just— we had a great fucking night and i wake up expecting you to be right there and the bed’s fucking empty so i had thought you— that you had— that you weren’t—“

katsuki feels the tears he had been holding back threaten his eyes again, his cheeks flushing dark.
“oh, katsuki, no,” eijirou shakes his head, quickly closing the space that katsuki had put between them seconds prior. he hesitantly reaches a hand up to cup katsuki’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear that had slipped out.
“i’m so sorry,” he continues, smiling softly. “i didn’t mean to make you think that. i just woke up and felt all nasty and my muscles were sore so i wanted to get a shower in before you woke up. i didn’t even think about you waking up alone. shit, i’m so stupid. i’m so sorry.”
katsuki scrunches his face up as he tries to make himself calm down, wrapping his hand around eijirou’s wrist, keeping his hand in place on his cheek.
“dumb idiot,” he grumbles under his breath, his breathing slowing back down.

“i know, i know,” eijirou laughs weakly, pressing his forehead against katsuki’s. “i’m sorry, i love you.”
katsuki’s eyes snap open and he looks up into the crimson irises that almost match his own. they’re looking right back at him, soft, warm, deep. burning in an emotion he’s craved to be looked at with for so long.
“say it again,” katsuki demands, wrapping his arm around eijirou’s neck.

“i love you,” eijirou smiles, tone sickly sweet. “i love you, i love you, i lo—“
he’s cut off by katsuki’s lips locking with his, bruising, almost. eijirou’s arm slinks around katsuki’s waist and pulls him flush. he’d have half a mind to be embarrassed about not having any clothes on, but the lips on his do well to distract him from that thought.
when they part this time, there’s a smile edging the corners of katsuki’s mouth and a playful glint in his eye. eijirou feels his heart stutter at the sight, instinctively trying to pull katsuki closer. it only makes the smirk on katsuki’s lips grow wider.
“how opposed would you be to taking a second shower, shitty hair?” katsuki asks, hovering his lips a millimeter over eijirou’s. not enough for a kiss, but enough to tease the thought of one.

eijirou has him in the bathroom before he can even process he’s being carried.
maybe he’s glad they didn’t just go to the café after all.
- end of thread.

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More from @shiggay

22 Nov
eijirou has a /very/ cute neighbor.

a very cute neighbor that only comes out at night.

weird.



vampire katsuki/ER nurse eijirou
kirishima eijirou doesn’t necessarily think himself to be a busy man, but he does acknowledge that working the graveyard shift at the local hospital’s ER /and/ taking classes at the local college is probably a little too much to juggle all at once.
but hey, what can he say, the man likes to keep himself occupied. it helps keep his mind off things.
Read 34 tweets

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