Chapter Text
“Hey, this one looks feisty!” The mocking tone rang loud in the dark room.
The bars rattled, sending a new wave of pain through Kirishima’s disoriented mind. The boy winced, bracing his back against the damp wall, hands hopelessly searching for even the smallest crack in the wall: anything to keep him upright on the trembling legs of his.
The footprints echoed closer, wide-eyed Kirishima jolting up, eyes searching for the unwelcomed guests with no regard for the blinding darkness surrounding him.
“The little beasty caused us a bit of trouble,” the darkness momentarily seemed to move before a burst of light directed right to his face took over.
Eijirou covered his eyes simultaneously crouching down, legs struggling to hold his weight without the support of bloody fingertips dug in the wall.
Even with his eyes closed shut the brightness was too much for him and his headache to take.
“Didn’t you?” the voice asked, a cheerful tone sending goose-bumps across the boy’s skin.
One of the visitors directed the flashlight away from Kirishima’s face, leaving him fiercely blinking away the mixed up bright and dark spots in his vision, squinting at the deformed figures in front of him.
His eyesight was crap, but the pain-dulled hearing still picked up on a silky sickening “Be a good boy for me?”
Eijirou gulped, mouth going dry as his already pathetic efforts to get up and stand tall in the face of these men were stamped down by a heavy hand placed on the top of his head.
The hand stroked his hair before the man grabbed a handful of his black locks and pulled it upwards. The aggravated pulsing pain in his temples was far better than the treatment of a loyal pet. That, at least allowed him to grit his teeth, arms automatically reaching for the assaulted spot.
The painful pull went away as quickly as it started: the man hissed, letting go of Eijirou’s hair as the boy frantically scratched at the man’s flesh.
“You bitch!” the man spat the insult in Eijirou’s face together with the saliva, a full-force punch solidifying the figure's authority.
Kirishima succumbed to the concrete floor; legs bent at an awkward angle. The man didn’t allow Eijirou’s mind to catch up to the pain in his left cheek or the taste of iron in his mouth: he squatted next to the boy, forcefully dragging the Omega’s sore face by the chin closer to his.
Eijirou wanted to close his eyes, to sink in the fantasy that was his life before this moment. All he wanted was to drift away from the stench of this cell, far away from the face looming in front of him.
Please, turn off the light, he begged the silent walls.
“Oh c’mon, he already got a check-up,” the other figure whined as the man squeezed open Omega’s jaw slipping a finger inside presumably to check on his teeth, “Stop messing around I wanna leave early!”
Kirishima gagged around the intruding fingers shamelessly exploring his mouth, the bone-crushing grip on his jaw stopping the boy from biting down.
“Fineee…” the man complied, releasing his hold on the Omega. The trainer stood up with sight, both of them indifferent to Kirishima’s heaving on the floor as the boy spat out the pile burning in his throat, tears stinging the corners of Eijirou’s eyes.
Please, turn off the light Kirishima pleaded the heavy clunk of metal, deafening the boy.
He lifted his head from the floor, barely restraining himself from puking again as he spotted the contours of a chain in a hands of two men working better than the highest walls or the tightest restraints.
Eijirou’s eyes shot to the gated door behind the figures, fear over-clouding his better judgment.
“Be still beasty.” The man chuckled, nudging Kirishima and his efforts to crawl to the exit with the booted foot.
Eijirou swallowed a sob threatening to escape him. “Be still” was, in reality, his only option.
The boy was already pushing over his limits, limbs heavy from exhaustion, the pain and hunger of day’s blending into one momentarily pushed back from the surge of adrenalin: the only thing keeping him conscious.
He shuddered when one of the men came close again, this time, to place a bone-chilling metal collar on his neck. He shuddered, trembling all the way from his lowered head to the curled up toes due to the cold of the metal, heavy on his skin or from fear of the chain, swirling from the collar to the metal loop on the wall, locking him in place, binding him to the silent walls.
Please turn off the light, Kirishima prayed to his own pathetic shadow: the only one who might listen.
And it did listen, abandoning Kirishima as the two men left his cell, taking the flashlight with them, leaving him to enjoy the echoes of their laughter: the joke itself was nowhere near as laud for Eijirou to hear. Their job was done and Kirishima’s life has just started.
He didn’t move an inch, pulling back, taming his burning-hot tears running from his cheeks all the way down to the dirty floor: a lonely warm path on Eijirou's skin as frozen as the metal pressing shut his esophagus.
Even without the light, even with his eyes closed, Kirishima saw the twisted snarl on the man’s lips, a lonely freckle on a cheek, and deep-set laughing wrinkles in the face you could almost call handsome if it wasn’t the face of the man who robbed Kirishima of his free breath.
The darkness didn’t help and crying was not manly.
“Do it yourself,” Bakugou said, casually offering him the key from the black collar, Bakugou himself picked upon their first meeting.
“Do it yourself,” he said like it was the most self-understandable thing in the damned world.
It grew on him. The heavy metal collar, the current one, both of them, like a second skin.
“Mama!” Eijirou rushed through the door, his big cheeks red from running, “Mommy! They’re doing it again!”
The woman stood up from the armchair, putting her book aside to engulf the sniffling boy in her signature bear hug, “What is it baby?” she asked in between loud pecks to either of his cheeks.
“They’re saying mean stuff to Tamaki!” he scrunched up his face, squirming away from the woman’s hold and her tickling raven hair to complain to the worried face looming in the kitchen, “And he lets them!”
“But you don’t, right honey?” his mommy said, worry never leaving her voice as she quickly ruffled his hair before resuming to watch over the stew bubbling on the stove.
The boy nodded like a different option was entirely out of the question, earning a pat on the back from his mother, “But- but why does he let them? It’s not fair!”
“If you strangle a dog long enough it will get used to it…” his mother uttered with a tired sight, flinching from the death glare her wife managed to send without leaving the stove’s side.
“Mhh?”
“Nothing baby, go wash up before dinner, I’ll give their moms a call.”
Kirishima used to play his memories on repeat, like the best or the only movie he has ever seen. Recalling every word, every smile, and every emotion before it all was covered in the dirt of his cell's floor, before the only thing he knew was fear, guilt, and more hatred than he could handle.
He got used to being strangled. Cut off breath and weight around his neck didn’t seem so important compared to the bigger evils.
Bakugou thought they didn’t manage to break him, and foolishly, he thought so too. But they did, oh they did. They strangled him bit by bit until he forgot all about it.
“Do it yourself.”
He cried enough, sobbed plenty over the bad things, he shouldn’t cry about something good.
“The next heat.”
“What?” Bakugou gawked the fork with a piece of scrambled egg never reaching its final destination.
“Well, my heat is coming up.”
“I know,” the Alpha mumbled, putting the fork down entirely.
“Eijirou, hey… Eijirou?” the voice called out, the gentle tug at his arm pulling Kirishima out of his relatively peaceful sleep.
“Ka-“ Eijirou blinked at the looming face above him, making out furrowed brows and a crease in Bakugou’s forehead, “Kats, what are-“
The warm hand covered his forehead, brushing away the red strands, “Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”
“No?” he doubtfully eyed Bakugou, weighting the possibility that the man in front of him was the stuff of fiction since his Bakugou had more respect for sleep than people.
“You smell weird,” the blonde muttered leaning in to sniff Kirishima’s neck.
“Sweetheart… it’s the middle of the night and I haven’t showered,” Eijirou pulled the cover higher up, covering his chin and his embarrassment, “and you sure it’s not your sweat that smells?” The Omega bluffed quite aware of the nitro-glycerine’s sweetness: a component making fresh from work Bakugou smell more like caramel than smoke.
“You smell sweeter...?” Bakugou pulled away scratching his head, “I think.”
“Oh…” Kirishima gulped feeling a small sting of panic settle in his chest. He knew exactly what that meant.
At first, his scent will become sweeter, only a little bit, the secondary note of cinnamon getting more noticeable until his scent will become sickening sweet, signaling the upcoming heat to everyone that breathes.
It will take about a week at best, four days at worse.
“My-my heat…” Kirishima shakily breathed out, hiding nearly half of his face with a blanket. It’s fine. It’s Bakugou; he shouldn’t be so scared to admit it.
“Fucking hell NOW?!” the blonde practically flew out of the bed, accidentally taking Eijirou’s cover with him, “What do I do?!”
Kirishima managed a strangled laugh through his inner panic. The Alpha’s outstretched, palms turned up and crackling hands, battle stance and flared up nostrils in the adorably scrunched up face: the whole man’s demeanor ready to fight the Mother Nature herself, let Eijirou stomp all over his surfacing anxiety because it will be fine.
Katsuki keeps his promises. It is fine. It’s his Bakugou after all.
“Calm down, not now, explosion for brains.”
“But-“ Bakugou scratched his forearm with a confusion of a man that never partook in anyone’s heat before, “What’s the plan, what do you need?” he asked, refusing to relax, too focused on the problem at hand to register the insult.
“I-I don’t know?”
“How is that even possible?” Bakugou said giving him a prominent “are you shitting me” look, one of the Eijirou’s favorite if he could say so, “I’m not fucking calling half&half bastard again!”
“What?” Kirishima exclaimed, clearing his throat. When did that happen?
As idiotic as it may sound, he really wasn’t sure what he needed for heat. A normal one. He only remembers tucking himself in a faraway corner of his cell and cursing his own scent for betraying him when Eijirou desperately tried to control the sweetness of his pheromones. Remembers crude hands and hazed pain. Remembers hating himself for giving in. For begging. When it came to heats, he only knew the eyes of a predator and a suffocating haze threatening to consume him whole.
It should be okay with… Bakugou, right? His touch didn’t make Kirishima hurl over and empty his stomach on the floor so it… it should be all right. The thought of it sickened him and he knew he was dirty and used and he knew, he knew, that it was his fault… for losing control, for letting his body give in, react to those hands, to knead under those eyes.
So he knows he’s dirty and it’s so messed up to involve Bakugou into this, but…but it did happen and he didn’t want it.
It’s Bakugou and he does want Bakugou, so it should be fine even if the thought of Bakugou’s eyes turning glossy, face contorted from lust turned his stomach upside down.
His body will reach to Bakugou, has reacted to Bakugou. But even if it does, even if it’s Bakugou…
“OI,” a hand gripped his, jolting Kirishima awake, “Red you good?”
“Mh… Katsuki I-I can’t-” his voice broke off, Eijirou’s slightly trembling hand trapped in Bakugou’s warm one, “Not this time, I can’t-I can’t Bakugou…”
“And I’m not fucking asking for anything you Moron.”
“But-“
“Shut the fuck up and listen. When it hits, you will stay in here and I will sleep in the guest room making sure you don’t fucking starve yourself to death,” Bakugou somehow managed to calmly shout at him, piercing red eyes stilling Kirishima’s doubts, “I will control myself, I have suppressants. Fuck, I can control myself, but if you want, I can ask Pinky or Pikachu to stay in the apartment. Do you need anything specific? Pillows? Medicine? Toys? Whatever it is I will get it for you.”
“I-I don’t know…”
Bakugou gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing Eijirou’s hand firmer, “It’s fine, we have the necessities here, and if you need anything I’ll get it.”
Kirishima managed a nervous smile, nodding. It’s going to be fine.
“The one after this, we could… Well I… it doesn’t matter, forget it.”
“Kirishima.”
He doesn’t know why he said it, or even began to suggest it. What if Katsuki doesn’t even know what it is? What if the Alpha is happy with their current relationship? And he’s just spouting nonsense?
“Nothing Kats, it's not important.”
Bakugou clicked his tongue unimpressed by Eijirou’s secrecy, studying the redhead’s face before slowly focusing on the plate in front of him.
Kirishima watched Bakugou attack the food, the Omega’s hand unintentionally rising to touch his bare neck. Why would he…?
“Hey, eat it while it’s hot.”
“Mh.” Kirishima’s hand dropped from his neck picking up a fork.
He got used to being strangled and when someone interrupted that now he wants to… what? A life with an Alpha? That just sounds like the begging of a bad joke. It’s not simply because Bakugou has been good to him, is it? He’s not just attacked by the man that more or less saved him and showed kindness? It’s not because he’s touch starved?
It feels so right that it feels wrong.
“For fucks sake, Kirishima! I will fucking shove that egg down your bloody throat if you don’t-“
Kirishima clutched the collar in one palm, the same collar Bakugou gave him and freed him from, the same one he hasn’t let go of yet, almost like squeezing it gave Eijirou the confidence boost to say his thoughts and feelings directly to the blonde’s face, almost like holding it meant that this time, Eijirou was the one to decide his place, a place he hoped to be worthy of.
“I want to be mates with you,” Kirishima blurted his feeling, red face illuminating the whole damned room, “Mark me. The heat after this one.”
If Kirishima didn’t sit there filled with anxiety he would have truly appreciated watching the rare sight of the Alpha’s face paling mouth going agape, but as of now, when he had assumed that Katsuki would even want him as a mate, that kind of view did nothing but turn the wheels of horror in Eijirou’s mind.
He messed up, didn’t he? Be manly he said, don’t regret anything he said, it will be fun he said.
“Am, aa, don’t mind it, man,” Kirishima opted to laugh it off, choosing to fill the seeping awkwardness by shoving his face with food and panic, “yeah, am, forget it,” he chuckled through a mouthful as Bakugou sat there lifelessly, color, bit by bit, creeping back into the man’s face and dusting the tips of Katsuki’s ears rosy pink.
“Can’t fucking eat at peace can I?” Bakugou barked out, covering his eyes with a palm and rubbing at his temples.
Kirishima’s hand clutching the collar turned white-knuckled as he fidgeted in his seat.
He would like to say that Bakugou’s reaction didn’t hurt, but holy cow did it hurt on every level of hurt, chest tightening up painfully from the thought of the blonde’s rejection.
Kirishima chewed on the inside of his cheek despite the chef-approved meal right in front of him. They were boyfriends for fudge’s sake wasn’t this the natural progression?!
Ultimately, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it surely wasn’t this. If he doesn’t pay any attention to the gaping hole slowly expanding in his chest, this was a good thing. He does want to be Bakugou’s mate and it’s good to know where the fiery Alpha stands. Even if it’s not beside him.
“How-“ Bakugou sighted, raising his head to meet the redhead’s, “-in seven hells do you expect me to forget that?”
“I’m sorry,” Kirishima uttered, the words bitter on his tongue, eyes down-casted to his plate, “Don’t worry, I won’t mention it again.”
“You promised to annoy me forever you idiot. Or have you already forgot that?”
Eijirou never thought he was one of the smart kids. Not that he was a complete idiot either, but, the whole Omega center, for sure, put a bit of a dent in his education. Not that he, again, paid much attention to school in the first place. BUT. But despite his lacking, Eijirou priced himself in the art of Bakugou. Living with the prickly Alpha widened his vocabulary substantially. Did you know that a single grunt can have at least 36 different meanings?
With all of that knowledge, Kirishima sat there silently, breathlessly as Bakugou leaned over the table, with one hand reaching to caress Eijirou’s cheek, straining to kiss the Omega, lost in the dark while deciphering Katsuki’s mixed signals.
Because Kirishima was well versed in Bakugou-lingo he knew that the gentleness of Alpha’s hands, the demanding lips on his: the entirety of Katsuki, pulling Eijirou in, making him seek out the bitter taste of smoke on his tong, screamed, loud and clear, that Bakugou cared and respected the Omega more, than it seems, himself.
“I love you,” it said, and if Kirishima couldn’t trust Bakugou, even if the man himself contradicted himself way too often, could he trust anybody else?
“I don’t want a mate if it’s not you Eijirou,” the man’s lips brushed against his, voicing the words Eijirou though he heard, “But I don’t want you to regret that.”
Kirishima cocked an eyebrow at slowly reclining Bakugou, the hand leaving the collar alone in favor of dragging Katsuki for another kiss, tasting a lot like scrambled eggs did.
“What do you mean?” Kirishima let the man go, taking in the breath-taking view of the blonde’s dusty cheeks and the always present pout Kirishima wished to kiss out, “Do you want to mate me or not?” he teased, the voice void of any real accusation in spite of his shaken nerves.
“Fucking shit Kirishima, I wanted to take you as my mate the first week.”
“Aaa thank you for not doing that… so… you do want to be mates?”
“Now I wanna-” Bakugou rubbed his shoulders, the smell of burned wood getting heavier, “-wanna live with your dumb ass like mates.”
“Is there a difference?” Kirishima asked, thoroughly confused, “So you do want to mate me? But you don’t?”
“I want to fucking meet your parents' shitty hair, I want my hag to meet your parents! I want you to find what you want to do! Crap, I want you to get a college diploma if that’s what you want and yes, I know it’s not even fucking possible, those fucker give zero fucks about actually educating Omegas! I fucking want you to be more than fucking sure you want me to be in your life as a mate because it’s me and if it’s me and you’re mated to me then there is no way you could get away from me.”
Bakugou shoved a piece of egg into his mouth, chewing it like it personally insulted his favorite winter jacket.
Kirishima snorted, “Don’t you have eyes Moron?” the Omega mumbled under his breath, the corners of his lips curling into a smile, the smile completely and wholly dedicated to the angry clueless idiot in front of him.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
He needed more of it. More of that musky scent radiating from Bakugou and the thought itself kicked him in the gut without warning. One of the downfalls of spending the majority of your time in one place was the accumulation of scent.
It was his own and he doesn’t have to push it down, hide it or control it anymore, but it’s too much and too crowded for his liking, even if the windows never stay closed for too long.
It’s the upcoming heat. That’s the only explanation he has for his new-found preference.
Bakugou scented the whole place with desperation when Eijirou left the apartment, but that wasn’t near enough and it wasn’t the calming Alpha’s pheromones his Omega sought after.
He’s a moron for not noticing it sooner. He’s a moron for thinking he could cheat his nature.
And as always his mother nature had no sense of timing.
Tamaki is a fellow Omega, his childhood friend and, hopefully, his current one slotted together with Bakugou and his colleagues, that the Alpha would never admit have adopted the fiery blonde as one of their own, but Tamaki, for better or for worse, won’t come alone.
It was all good when Kirishima was high on adrenaline and excitement, but this time he will probably be high from panic than anything else.
As of now, Bakugou can tell the change in his scent only because they live together, so his up-coming heat shouldn’t affect anyone seriously for another couple of days, but… but Tamaki’s partner is undoubtedly an Alpha, and right now an Alpha, other than Bakugou, in the same apartment just doesn’t seem like a very good idea.
Especially when Bakugou, after his presumable “escape”, took over the role of Kirishima’s shadow, fidgeting around him with no reason other than apparently, doing so eased the blonde’s nerves, and Kirishima argued – pressing guard duties.
Another Alpha in the same proximity as Kirishima might just turn Bakugou into a borderline murderer.
Whatever, as of now, his shadow by his side, a pair of hands gently rubbing circles into Omega’s shoulders had more benefits than disadvantages, Kirishima thought as an uncontrollable shiver ran down his spine.
Kirishima squeaked like a little girl and pull his shoulders up to his ears when Bakugou’s thumb brushed over the scar on his bare neck, making the Alpha bark out a laugh, amused by the Omega’s reaction.
Bakugou plopped on the ground behind Eijirou, the pair of arms slithering around the Omega’s waist and pulling the redhead’s back against Bakugou’s hips.
If Eijirou tilted his head upwards inhaling the scent his preheat clogged mind can’t possibly get enough of that was his business and his business only.
At first, it was Kirishima who wanted to push himself, get used to the human contact all over again, but now, oh boy, now… Bakugou’s fingers on his skin: the thing that made him flick away weeks ago was a source of comfort to him, however unbelievable that sounded.
At some point he got used to pecks on the forehead in the morning, a sly hug seemingly out of nowhere, the impromptu massages, and yet all of it was so familiar and surprisingly new at the same time.
Unsurprisingly, his needy inner Omega absolutely preening at the attention and the touch starved Alpha worked extremely well together, giving and getting the things they both needed.
Kirishima closed his eyes relaxing into the hold, the redhead’s breathing matching the rise and fall of Bakugou’s chest.
Bakugou’s chin moved to rest on Kirishima’s shoulder, the man leaning forwards to preen at the doodle in Eijirou’s hands.
“Katsuki…,” the Omega sprung to life, almost head-butting Bakugou in a haste to cover the drawing from the preening Alpha’s gaze.
“Show me.”
“It’s stupid… Really Kats it’s nothing.”
“Show me.” The firm voice commanded, wiping off the whimpering excuses from the tip of Eijirou’s tong. “It’s nothing”, “it’s not important,” had no hold on Bakugou, pushing, poking, and prodding at every side of the redhead’s insecurities.
The palm-sized doodle of their peperomia hidden underneath Kirishima’s palm seemed to radiate heat.
“Cut the crap Eijirou.” A snarl rang next to Kirishima’s ear meant only for the anxious part of Omega’s brain.
“It’s really nothing…” Kirishima breathed out, resigning to his fate as the redhead pulled his hands away from the monochrome picture, presenting it to the Alpha’s court.
Bakugou leaned in, the hum in his chest passing onto Kirishima, frozen from anticipation.
“It’s decent,” Bakugou said never braking Eijirou’s set up whispering mode.
“Now you’re just…uh! It’s plain and simple and the shading here is completely off! Just look at it! It’s-”
“It’s cute,” Katsuki practically growled turning to place a kiss under Kirishima’s ear, cutting off the man’s annoying self-deprecating squirming, “Just like you.”
If that didn’t shut Kirishima up than a fucking apocalypse won’t.
“Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone, I mean ANYONE about this or I will kill your dumb ass,” the Alpha growled half in affection, nuzzling into Kirishima’s back.
Eijirou smiled from ear to ear fishing out the pen he dropped in a hurry to cover the doodle, feeling the Alpha’s breathing even out, as he worked on perfecting the doodle, the hold on his middle never slackening.
Bakugou jerked up, palms heating instinctively, the stupid doorbell piercing his ears and his sound, but ass-sore sleep. He has a nice, comfy bed, so why the fuck the hardwood floor somehow ends up being his favorite napping place? Numb legs made for a poor battle stance.
His napping pillow and bed in one, otherwise known as Kirishima fucking Eijirou giggled like a schoolgirl in Bakugou’s face, stumbling to get up and open the door with probably equally numb ass.
The doorbell rang for the second time, both men inclining their heads in the direction of the sound before sharing a knowing look: Kirishima was lying on the floor, paralyzed from the waist down, pleading eyes directed at Bakugou who currently was able to stand only with the immense help from gravity and stubbornness.
“Fucking fine.” He mumbled taking the first shaky steps before that damned bell made him go deaf, “Don’t fucking-“
The doorbell rang again and Bakugou mad dashed to the door, curing everyone and everything that stood in the way of his shaky legs.
He threw open the door fully awake and insulted by the undying laughter from the living room only to be hit by the abomination of a smile wide enough to swallow a whole ass cake.
“Nice to meet you Bakugou-san!” the other Alpha beamed inclining his head to lessen the threat.
Bakugou grunted but stepped away, letting the blonde man and his companion in, the anxiety of another Alpha near his future mate in a pre-heat condition appeased by the scent patches covering half of the other man’s neck and a protective arm around his partner.
“We’re sorry for intruding, I don’t know if you know me, I’m Togata Mirio,” the Alpha followed introducing himself to Bakugou’s back, “-and this is my mate-“
“Tamaki!” Kirishima sprung to the man tugged safely behind the hero of-fucking-course Bakugou knew, practically doubling over from excitement. Bakugou, with no luck, tried to push the thought of an overly-friendly bulldog meeting the neighbourhood cat in the park, under strict supervision from their owners away.
Bakugou caught Kirishima by the arm, pulling the redhead to his side in a way that stopped him from attacking the guests, “Calm the fuck down idiot,” Katsuki grunted, doting the excited face worn by his favorite dumbass. Those were dangerous water for the blonde, so he was, understandably, very proud of himself for muttering “I’ll make something to feed ya’ll,” and removing himself from the distraction.
Two sets of eyes followed him to the kitchen in unison.
The cheerful “You’re the best” that followed his exit was satisfactory enough that for a moment, Bakugou considered making cookies, cursing at himself for the unexpected power nap in the middle of a day that put him short of time both in the gym and in the kitchen.
Katsuki opted for the shit load of one-bite sandwiches with salmon and left-over kimchi pancakes and a fucking salad and a carrot cake because those assholes better not expect a full-on proper lunch from him and they needed a grocery trip and letting good products rot just wasn’t in his system, so he made due, angrily staring at the piece of lettuce.
He ruled in the kitchen, once in a while or rather every five seconds, in need to appease his inner Alpha, eyes darting to the living room.
Kirishima always found a new way to impress him. The cheery voice reached Bakugou’s ears through the sizzling of the pan and the sound of boiling water, but he knew, from the slight shake of Kirishima’s hands, from the lack of fresh wave of the redhead’s pheromones that Eijirou, seemingly comfortably chatting with one of the best hero’s up to date, was nervous if not scared of the Alpha in front of him.
With every glance, Bakugou battled with simply staying in the role of an observer, completely aware that him jumping in and comforting the Omega that didn’t explicitly asked for that comfort would only set Kirishima back.
So he not-literally sat back and watched Kirishima convert with Bakugou’s senior and the hero in a number three, or was it two now, position, the two of them pulling slight nods and quick replies from what Bakugou guessed was the man responsible for Kirishima’s prior hot-headed behavior.
The sight of Kirishima’s childhood friend turned into a sour taste in Bakugou’s mouth that had nothing to do with his kitchen adventures. Tamaki, with a lowered head, hunched shoulders, and a voice barely a whisper looked out of place next to his plain but always fucking happy partner.
The quiet Omega was like the man who weathered every sea and climbed every mountain and after his journeys was left sitting there in silence because now nothing would come as a surprise to him. How the fuck did those two met? And then again, it was unlikely for him and Kirishima to meet in the way they did, but here they are.
Bakugou plated the last of at least enough sandwiches to feed the army, ignoring the ache in his chest.
The image of his lively, unbearably energetic and chaotic dumbass reduced to the quiet and hunched up man falling heavy on Katsuki’s mind. The two Omegas looked different, felt different, but Bakugou didn’t have to squint hard to find a similarity between the two friends. They had personalities as different as sun and moon and a history of more or less same pains and yet these two fuckers breathed life. Body and pride was a small sacrifice to keep the ambers of the soul simmering.
And if Bakugou believed in fate or destiny or other similar cringe bullshit he would be extremely glad to have met Kirishima at the time he did and not a second later.
Bakugou dropped the platter of food and drinks in the middle of the table, interrupting the lame-ass-milion’s story about one of the recent villain attacks Kirishima saw on the news. From what the Alpha heard, the trio seemed to shy away from childhood reminiscing or everything that happened prior to their first meeting.
His inner Alpha purred in approval as Kirishima, still listening to the weirdo’s story, moved to make space for him, a satisfied grin spreading on the blonde’s face as he took his righteous place next to Eijirou.
“Bakugou-san you really didn’t have to do this, we don’t want to trouble you.” The intruder Alpha voiced as the redhead already reached for the second sandwich.
“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms and legs despite the surprised choke coming from Eijirou’s side.
The pair of indigo eyes shot up, the calculating gaze darting from Kirishima’s exposed neck to Bakugou’s face.
“Kats-“
“Maybe you’re right but Kirishima-Kun invited us over.” The other Alpha cut Eijirou’s whining short, signature smile on display, “That was quite a show you put up on that interview.”
“So? What’s that to you fucker?”
“So you inexplicitly declared your respect to Omegas and you’re hot-headed sure, but not stupid enough to not understand what that meant.” The quiet voice steady and sure rang through every other grunt and argument in the room. Somehow the quiet ones always pack more impact. “And forget all of the cover-up job debunking your words, everyone who saw that and has a brain cell now sees you as somewhat of an ally of Omegas and their supporters, whether you like it or not.”
“And they can see a motherfucking unicorn in me. I don’t give two shits about it.”
“You should because I think you feel sick every time you look at an Omega, or what… angry? Guilty perhaps?” Tamaki kept his eyes fixated on the blonde’s face, the small body half-hidden with over-sized clothing, curled and shy with a gaze that bore into everything Bakugou had, the Omega’s accusations not backing down despite the Alpha’s snarl.
Kirishima’s arm snaked around his, keeping him seated under the dumb face’s investigating stare, the calm smile plastered on the man’s face just silently waiting for Bakugou’s response.
They can take this entire Omega and Alpha bullshit, wrap it prettily in a box, bury it and build a fucking supermarket on top of it and Bakugou wouldn’t give two shits about it if he and Kirishima, and begrudgingly, his work-place tormentors were left alone.
So he inhaled and exhaled placing a hand over Eijirou’s trembling one, seeking his solace, a shaky, disoriented, but a solace nonetheless.
“If you say that Eiji is important to you, and I believe you, but is he important because he’s what? Your Omega or your-” the presumably timid Omega, currently nit-picking Bakugou’s soul apart, gave his mate a knowing look, “-person? And even if it’s both, what future do you want?”
“Because we think the four of us just might be hoping for the same outcome,” the other Alpha pitched in practically expanding from the sheer excitement and his genius.
“Wait Amajiki, what are you saying?” Kirishima said with a chuckle at the end, Bakugou didn’t have to look to know the Omega’s smile didn’t reach the man’s ruby eyes.
“Let’s shake some things up, Kirishima I know this-“ Tamaki gestured passively to the apartment, “-maybe is good enough for a while, but you were always more righteous than the rest.”
The redhead stared at his childhood friend gasping for words like a fish pulled out of the water, hand squeezing Bakugou’s forearm for dear life.
“Get out.” The blonde snarled through clenched teeth, if not his palm resting on Eijirou’s hand than his blood on a verge of boiling. Even a mad man won’t dare to blow up his sanctuary.
“Katsuki?”
“Get the FUCK out of here!” Bakugou increased the volume jumping from his seat, Kirishima on his toes, “I don’t fucking care who you are, leave us the fuck alone, you mad psychos!” Katsuki shouted cringing from the way, Tamaki’s already frail figure seemed to shrink from the volume of Bakugou’s voice.
The number three hero stood up, calm in the face of Bakugou’s yet controlled fury, extending an arm to his mate, “Give us a call if you two change your opinion,” Mirio bowed to them both turning to leave.
“Wait… Baku-“ Kirishima exclaimed, wide eyes following the two men to the door, torn between legs ready to run and arms holding on tightly.
“You can choose too, Eiji.” The voice accompanied by eyes of shining indigo thundered in the room so loud, one might mistake it for a bang of the doors.