Chapter Text
Two weeks after sending in his application, a response finally arrived. Sure, Hawks was nice enough when they met, but that didn’t mean he’d want to deal with Bakugou and everything he entailed on a daily basis. The hero was still young himself, taking on troubled youths was hardly his responsibility.
If Hawks said no, it was okay. He wouldn’t take it personally.
That’s a lie, I will absolutely take it personally.
At least he would be aware he shouldn’t take it personally. Baby steps. He held his breath and ripped the letter open.
Alright, kid, listen up.
I’m not Aizawa. I’m not going to hold your hand and say the right thing every time something freaks you out. You’ll have to figure it out. If you aren’t pulling your weight, I’ll send you back. You got that? I’m not Jeanist either. If you get yourself in trouble with your punkass attitude, that’s on you. And if you die on my watch doing something stupid, I’m going to be pissed because you’ve won people over now and I will get so much shit for it. So no dying. Those are my terms.
Come in next Thursday after class and we’ll get your paperwork started. There’s a lot of extra shit we have to do when we take on minors.
He and Hawks were enough alike, he understood the deeper meaning:
I don’t know what I’m doing, but we can try it.
He didn’t blame Hawks for the apprehension. Bakugou had been plenty self-destructive lately, definitely a risky choice of intern, and Hawks was giving him a chance anyway. Now he just needed to not fuck it up. Sure, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn't do anything stupid. It wasn't like he self-destructed on purpose, it was just that vivid memories told him he couldn't make any promises. Memories of tearing into his skin and swallowing poison, blind to any alternative in the desperate state the pain drove him to.
Was that even the right word for it? He considered himself to have a fairly high pain tolerance. He could bite down and breathe through it while his mind took a quick vacation to somewhere he didn't have a body. He got his shoulder to pop back in on his own, after all.
Apparently, nerves screaming 'fucking ouch!' prompted the brain to make chemicals to soothe it. Biology had ways to cope with pain, be it oxytocin or just blacking the fuck out. Is that what dissociating was? Oxytocin sounded a lot nicer. A pleasant little high instead of just feeling… empty. And when he came back to himself, the metaphysical misery remained. He couldn't take a fucking Tylenol for this, he just had to deal. Which really fucking sucked.
So yeah, Hawks might have to deal with some shit, but it's not like saying no would be any safer. Accepting the offer was the most hope he could give himself. How would he survive anywhere else? He could never bring himself to tell some random stranger 'I am in agony' when he needed to take a break. Probably not even Jeanist. The shame of acknowledging his history would be too overwhelming when he was already in a dark place. But if it was Hawks, he might be able to admit to his bad days. He could confess his limitations to someone who understood.
The thought made accepting everything wrong with him and having the future he wanted feel… possible. He could be this particular brand of fucked up, and someone important. Hawks would show him how.
"Hey, Bakugooou," Kirishima called as he knocked. Bakugou jumped, but the adrenaline faded quickly.
"The fuck you want?" he answered in a tone that only Kirishima would correctly read as 'come in.' The door clicked open.
"You ready to go soon?"
"Yeah, just a minute." He stashed the letter in a desk drawer.
"What's that?" Kirishima inquired curiously.
"Hawks got back to me.” As much as he tried to play it casual, the question -- and subsequent opportunity to show off -- delighted him. “Said he'll put up with me if I behave."
"That's great!"
"I do enjoy being better than everyone." His old friend smugness gave him a quick pat on the back.
“Interning with the number 1 is pretty impressive,” Kirishima indulged him. Like he always did.
His hair was down today, red strands pushed back with a bandana, making it easy to see the fatigue behind his smile. Apparently Bakugou had woken him up at 4 in the morning with his restless tossing. Not that he would remember. He only found out after hearing Kirishima had been texting Sero (who never went to bed in the first place) at sunrise.
“I can sleep by myself, you know,” he offered. “Don’t want you falling behind because I keep waking you up at late-ass-o’clock.”
“I like having you here, though,” he protested. “And… I can’t wake you up when it gets really bad if I’m not there.”
True night terrors were rare these days. He appreciated Kirishima’s protective streak, but he didn’t want it at the other’s expense.
They could have that conversation another time.
“We should get going. I told Aizawa I would get there first.” Bakugou slung his bag over one shoulder. Kirishima nodded, following him into his drama once again.
Hand on the doorknob, he stopped.
“Hey, Kirishima?”
“Mmm?”
He had been meaning to do this for a while now.
“I, uh, I wanted to-” god, I suck at this, “I wanted to say… thanks.”
“For what?”
He couldn’t help but laugh at that. When Bakugou stole a glance, Kirishima had the gaull to look genuinely bewildered.
“Where do I fucking start? For coming after me over and over again. At Kamino, that first day I jumped off the train, every time I tried to do something unimaginably stupid. For putting up with my shit, I know I’m fucking difficult. I’m difficult sober, and then you had to take care of me drunk, that had to be a pain in the ass. You literally saved my fucking life. So for that, and for- for making me feel like… I could be okay, eventually. I’ve never felt like that before.”
Kirishima starred with the blank, slack-jawed expression of someone who had just been slapped, so Bakugou rambled on.
"You’re actual fucking sunshine and I don’t know what you’re doing with me, but I’m glad you are."
Wide eyes glossed over, scarred brow pinching with a sudden overflow of emotion.
Oh no.
“Did I say something wrong?” he panicked as tears began to stream down Kirishima’s face. “Shit, I’m not good at this kind of-”
“No, you didn’t say anything wrong,” he denied with a shake of his head. “That was just really nice.”
"Oh."
Kirishima was crying because he said something nice. He knew he wasn't a nice guy, but was he really so cold that the rare occurrence was something to cry over?
"I want to get my shit together enough that things can be more equal." He had to fix this, he owed it to Kirishima to be better. Or at least to try. "So that I can help you with stuff sometimes and it's not just… I know I put a lot of pressure on you with my mental shit. I don't want it to always be so one sided like that. I don't say it much, but I know you do a lot for me. Sometimes I don't even notice until later, you’re so good at just knowing what I need before I would even think to ask. So, um, I guess, I love you and I want to make you happy the way you do for me. I don't know if I can actually do that, I'm sort of a constant emotional hazard, but I at least have to try."
Still nothing.
"So, um, if there's anything I can do for you… just, like, tell me?" He wanted to slap himself for being so fucking awkward.
Kirishima approached suddenly, pushing his shoulders back until the edge of the bed met the backs of his knees, knocking him downward as Kirishima clamored beside him.
"Hold," Kirishima demanded as he curled into Bakugou, eyes still misty.
"Um, sure." He obeyed, wrapping his arms around Kirishima, trying to glean any clue from his body language what was happening. "You, uh… you good?"
Bakugou couldn't see his face, but could hear the watery tension in his voice.
"You like me a lot more than I like me."
Oh. Fuck.
Fuck.
"I know I don't say this shit enough." How did it take him this long to give the bare minimum of a thank you? "I suck at expressing myself in pretty much every fucking sense. Including how much I love you."
He squeezed Kirishima closer, kissing the top of his head, trying to express care without a shield of backhanded roughness. A feat that had never once in his life come naturally to him, but a soft sniff spurred him on.
"Shit, okay. I told you when we first started dating that I can't do partner things. You know I'm not good at the supportive boyfriend shit, but I promise I'll try from now on. I'll try to be- well, at least a little closer to what you deserve. I'll try to-"
"Katsuki." The soft whisper silenced him instantly.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
At a complete loss for what to say, he just kept following his one directive: Hold. Eventually, Kirishima straightened himself back up with a revived sort of energy that finally matched the grin.
“Okay.” He slapped his knees, turning to Bakugou with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm good. Let’s go.”
Bakugou would much rather stay here, in this moment. Unfortunately, he had already promised his attendance. Kirishima filled the walk to Aizawa's chattering brightly while Bakugou’s moody frown broke in periodic amusement.
“You’re a liar,” Aizawa accused from the front porch the second they were in view.
“Had something to do first,” he shrugged, anxiety spiking at the sight of his mother’s car in the driveway.
“You finish reading over everything?”
He nodded his confirmation. To be honest, he didn’t understand most of the documents he read, but his control-freak tendencies required he see them anyway.
Inside, Mitsuki had apparently hit it off with Takahashi, while Masaru remained quiet, in the background as usual. The banter stopped abruptly with a question from Eri, peering in around the doorframe.
“Are you Kachan’s mom?”
“I am,” she answered in a surprisingly cheery tone. Eri, on the other hand, squinted suspiciously.
“Eri, why don’t you head upstairs with Shinsou?” Aizawa suggested, alerting the room to their presence.
“Hey, kiddo,” she seemed genuinely happy to see him, in spite of the nervous tension.
“Hey.” Bakugou fought down the temptation to linger behind Aizawa.
“Alright, boys, get comfortable,” Takahashi instructed. “Now that we’re all here, I thought we could go over what all of this legalese means.”
When no one opposed, Takahashi continued.
“So custody and guardianship often get used interchangeably, but they do have different legal definitions. Right now, Aizawa has guardianship indefinitely, unless Masaru decides to revoke it. His custody, on the other hand, is temporary. Aizawa’s hero status lets him take Katsuki in under protective custody, but only as long as there is reasonable cause to believe he is in danger. The goal here today is to transfer custody to Aizawa at Katsuki’s request.”
“So if we sign this,” Mitsuki clarified slowly, “we will legally not be his parents anymore.”
“That is correct.”
“But… I mean, does that mean I can’t do anything? Like, do I need Aizawa’s permission to take him to the fucking dentist and shit?”
“That’s why I have this additional section on here,” Takahashi explained. “We talked about it at length and decided the best course of action for Katsuki would be for both of you to have a guardianship contract, so you can still act as his parents day to day. But that can be revoked by the custody holder. Ultimately, Aizawa would have the final say in Katsuki’s life until he turns 18.”
“Can still act as…” Mitsuki trailed off, something bittersweet crossing her face. “So as long as Aizawa says it’s okay, I can still be his mom?”
Something about the phrasing cut through him, that she was asking if she could still be his mom. Like she wanted to be.
“So long as everyone is cooperating, it won’t really change much,” the lawyer assured.
She nodded, studying the page.
Practically speaking, it probably wouldn't ever matter. Mitsuki’s testimony meant the domestic violence was well documented and neither of his parents seemed particularly interested in separating him from Aizawa at the moment. But it still mattered to him. Every time he saw them, his trust issues screamed letting his parents back into his life would end with him sitting on a curb as Masaru sobbed in defeat.
"You're sure this is what you want, Katsuki?" Mitsuki asked with a small tremor.
Once everything was signed, his parents weren't his parents anymore. They could still sign permission slips and make doctor's appointments, but when it came to who had ultimate legal decision-making power, that would be solely Aizawa. He needed that to be the case. Mitsuki had been so controlling for most of his life, he couldn't fully let go of the paranoia until this surrender. If she signed, if she voluntarily gave up her last piece of leverage, maybe he could finally trust her.
“Yes.”
She sniffed softly, eyes glistening as she lowered the pen. Pure relief had the burning behind his eyes spilling over into tears.
"Thank you."
Thank you for letting me feel safe from you.
"I really do want you to be happy, Katsuki," she said with a watery smile.
There wasn’t much left to say after that, just an awkward goodbye colored by a sense of finality. The chapter of his life written by Mitsuki and Masaru was over. With his parent’s departure, he felt a weight had been lifted. He rejected their attempts to go back to normal and they… accepted it. Accepted that he still didn’t fully trust them and needed to feel in control of his life. With this shift of power, maybe he could finally have a decent relationship with them.
When the door shut behind them, Eri reappeared from her hiding place around the bend.
“Is she gone?”
“My mom?” Bakugou laughed at the sheer disdain. “Yeah, she’s gone.”
“Good.” She climbed up into Bakugou’s lap.
“Not her biggest fan, huh?” he questioned.
“You’re scared of her.” It wasn’t that surprising she could pick that up, considering he had told her about Mitsuki before.
“I’m not scared of anything.” He wrapped his arms around her middle playfully, eliciting a squeal.
“Liar,” she giggled.
“I’ve never been afraid of anything in my whole life.”
“ Kachan, ” she rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“You can’t prove anything.”
She stuck her tongue out defiantly.
“As adorable as this is,” Aizawa interrupted, “I need to borrow him a moment.”
Eri pouted at the movement as Bakugou joined Aizawa by the doorway.
“What’s up?”
“That was a really emotional thing we just did," Aizawa put it bluntly. "Are you okay?”
“I think so.” At least like, 2/3rds okay.
“I know you wanted to be emancipated, but it’s only a few more years before you’re 18 anyway. If you ever decide you don’t like this arrangement anymore, we can look at changing it.”
He had brought up emancipation initially to stop being a burden. Apparently he needed proof of income to do that, so he would have to quit school and get a job to be truly independent. They ruled it out so quickly, he honestly forgot about it.
“We can think about it again when you’re far enough along for paid internships," Aizawa went on. "Depending on where you’re at mental health-wise, though. I know how smart you are, but you’re still really young and-”
“Sensei,” he interrupted, seeming to startle the man. “It’s okay. I trust you.”
“Oh.”
Bakugou nearly laughed at the sudden silence of Aizawa having an emotion.
"I know I can be a fucking hot-head," he admitted. "This is probably for the best."
"Well, uh… Cool." Aizawa started to turn a bit pink. "Okay. That was all I had, so you're free, I guess."
"You're officially part of the family!" Mic shouted at his return. Shinsou cringed a bit behind him, having finally emerged from his lair.
"He's had a room in the house for literal months," Shinsou deadpanned.
"Yeah, but now it's official official," Mic brushed him off. "Since it's Bakugou's first day in the fam, he gets to pick dinner! I tried to get balloons and all that, but Shouta said you would probably just destroy them."
"Correct."
He absolutely would not stand for party streamer shit, but… it was kind of nice that Mic thought of his addition as something to celebrate, not just another responsibility pushed on them.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Kirishima teased. "You've gotten pretty soft."
"Say that to my fucking face!" Bakugou spun around, then caught sight of Eri. "I'll f- ah. Dammit."
At least 'damn' was a lesser curse word.
"Like I said," Kirishima giggled. "Soft."
"I'll fight you," he growled.
"No, you won't," Shinsou joined the fray that was quickly shaping up to be Bakugou vs Everyone. Bakugou grumbled incoherently before tugging Kirishima up the stairs to his room to decompress until food happened.
"I feel really good right now," he announced the second he got the door closed behind him.
"That's good, I'm-" Kirishima's sentence was lost in Bakugou's mouth. His face flushed as they separated. "Oh, that kind of good."
"If you're feeling it," he shrugged. It seemed like a better idea than most of his impulses.
"Do you have a particular plan?"
"I want to try again." He had stashed condoms in the end table, so maybe, just this once, he could avoid disaster. That, and a decent speaker to blast music on to avoid any more commentary texts from Shinsou.
They crashed onto the bed, possibly over estimating the music's muffling ability. Bakugou stayed on top at first, revelling in the control, establishing it was something he could have before willingly giving it up. He kissed the spot behind Kirishima's ear that always gave him shivers, grinding from above until he could barely stand it himself. The long foreplay helped him reach a point of turned on enough to let himself want things. And god, he wanted right now.
"You're so hot," Kirishima observed breathlessly.
Bakugou smirked, feeling like maybe he was worth at least a fraction of what Eijirou claimed. He brushed red strands aside as he leaned down to whisper, lips grazing the skin of his ear.
"Then take me."
The boy beneath him looked equal parts shocked and aroused.
"Holy shit," he breathed, following as Katsuki rolled into his back, pulling him along. The teasing invitation felt good. He requested this. It wouldn't be happening if he didn't ask for it.
He intertwined his right hand with Kirishima's left, letting it rest on the mattress beside his head like an anchor, to push and pull against as he squirmed under the friction and let himself feel something. The movements were systematic and predictable. Down slowly from his collarbone to his hip, then up under his shirt. He felt the hand sliding up his thigh long before it touched anywhere intimidating. It helped so much just to know what was going on before it was already happening.
"You have lube?"
"I, uh, stole it from you, actually."
"Rude," Kirishima accused.
"Well, who the fuck else are you gonna use it with?"
"Fair point."
Again, the start was difficult. Kirishima went ridiculously slowly, in smooth rotations, each motion aimed to be stimulating rather than an attempt to pry him open.
"You look so good impaled on my-"
It wasn't like that. Not anymore.
At this point, if it did hurt, he probably wouldn't be able to tell through the heat.
"Eiji," he called softly. "If you keep going like that, I'm gonna come before we start."
At that, Kirishima looked delighted. Katsuki certainly didn't mind finishing that way, but he had something to prove right now.
Apparently, being already close at the start was the way to do it. The flashes of old horrors stayed stored away, drowned out by the high. He couldn't hear much over the music and his only real awareness was of his rapidly approaching orgasm.
"Oh my god, fuck! Harder." The words left his mouth before he could think to be embarrassed about them. His boyfriend obliged, soon sending him over the edge. He tried the bite down on his hand, but Kirishima pulled it away.
"I like hearing you."
So he made a, quite frankly, embarrassing noise as he came. Then melted.
God, he loved this part. The boneless floating accented with soft affection that required nothing of him but to exist. For a while, he didn't even open his eyes, just let Kirishima hold him through the bliss.
When he did, it was quite a mess.
"Jesus, maybe I should wear a condom."
Kirishima laughed into his shoulder.
Speaking of which.
"You didn't finish yet, did you?"
"It's okay," Kirishima dismissed.
"We can keep going."
His certainty faded only seconds after he said it. Without the haze of want, there would be nothing to disguise the feeling and separate him from the past.
"Be honest with me." Kirishima stared through him. "And with yourself. If I keep using your body until I finish, do you really think you're going to be okay?"
Judging by the flip his stomach did just hearing that sentence, the answer was no. At the same time, the question irritated him
"Why bother asking if you've already decided how I feel?" he snapped.
"Sorry." Kirishima slumped back, guilt springing instantly. "I just wanted to make sure you thought it through. I didn't mean to sound like I don't believe you."
"No- shit, no, you're right." Fuck, that was out of line. "I just get pissed about that real easy. People assuming they know how I feel better than I do. Like my mom, or that fucking psychiatrist."
"So… is that a yes or no on you wanting to keep going?"
It certainly wasn't a sensation he enjoyed outside of getting off. No matter how much he told himself he was choosing to do something nice for Eijirou, he would feel like a body being used.
He sighed roughly, annoyed primarily with himself.
"No, you're right, I should stop." He made himself comfortable on Kirishima's chest. "Quit while we're ahead."
He felt selfish, but maybe that was his pride talking. He didn't want to be in debt because he was fragile. Which was really a stupid thing to think when Kirishima never kept score like that, never tried to manipulate him into giving anything he didn't want to.
"You know I don't have sex with you just to get off, right?" Kirishima asked suddenly.
He knew Kirishima would never push him into anything, he had seemingly never ending patience. But… he wanted to do it in the first place for the same reason as everyone else, right? If that wasn't the goal of sex, then what was?
"I… well, I assume you like me or whatever. So you're not going to do something that freaks me out just because it feels good."
That didn't sound like the right answer, but he tried.
"If that was all I wanted, I have a perfectly good right hand," Kirishima joked, probably to cushion whatever came next. "This isn't about that. It's about feeling close to you. I want to be there when you're working through this. I want to be with you, not just using you to reach the finish line. I mean, that's not why you do it either, is it?"
Of course not. For Bakugou, sex was an emotional affair. It had to be with the amount of vulnerability it took for him to even try. Kirishima though, he didn't have all this baggage to work through, so Bakugou never really considered what emotional motives he may have.
"I guess I don't really know what sex is like for normal people."
"I don't think there really is a normal for that," Kirishima postulated. "For me, I feel really special when you trust me enough to do this. I'm happy you let me see you vulnerable like that and don't push me away anymore. It makes me feel important to you."
Suddenly, he felt terribly stupid for ever wondering if Kirishima would stop wanting him if Bakugou left him hanging too many times.
"Well, good, because you are." Bakugou recovered soon enough. "You're important and special and I couldn't do this with anyone but you."
His issues weren't gone, not by a long shot. But they became less disruptive every day. An argument he would have escalated to a shouting match a few months ago was just resolved in less than a minute.
"Awww," Kirishima shifted to kiss him.
"Shut up," he muttered as Eijirou planted an obnoxious extra kiss on his cheek.
"I love you," Eijirou said more seriously, warm breath against his shoulder.
"Wild," he marveled in only partially sarcastic awe.
" Excuse you, that is not your line," he mock-complained, shoving Bakugou's shoulder to express his disapproval.
"Yeah, yeah," he laughed.
He loved this. He loved how at ease he could be even without a scrap of clothes on. He loved the certainty that he was wanted. He loved being known so well even the teasing felt like being cherished.
"I love you, too."
It still wasn't easy. Maybe it wouldn't ever be easy. But he could do this. He could be alright, eventually.