Kirishima told himself it was a perfectly reasonable misunderstanding. He and Bakugou were bros. The best bros.
It had taken a while for Bakugou to warm up to him. Heh. Unlike Bakugou’s instant switch on when it came to feelings like irritation, frustration, and straight up pissed-off-edness, things like friendship and camaraderie had taken a while to build up.
But Kirishima liked Bakugou. He was hella strong, and smart, and he used his quirk really well, and he was just an all-around cool guy - temper tantrums notwithstanding. If Kirishima was being completely honest, he liked the temper tantrums too. He was hard to blow up and Bakugou was fun to rile. So he put in the time and slowly Bakugou had come around, had gotten used to all of them being in his space most of the time, noisy and cheerful, and started maybe actually enjoying spending time with them. Not that he would willingly admit it.
He was eternally grateful when Bakugou decided his slightly less than mediocre grades were unacceptable and started dragging him to various family restaurants for study sessions instead of the library or dorm, claiming that they would never get anything done ‘if we’re anywhere near the peanut gallery’. The first couple of times he tried to grab the check to pay Bakugou back for his tutoring services but Bakugou just called him a dumbass and smacked him with a math handout until he relented. Eventually he figured out that the way around it was to order something sweet for himself, take one or two bites and then insist that Bakugou share it with him.
Bakugou tried not to let on how much he liked sweets but Kirishima had definitely figured out his weakness for parfaits. The more kinds of fruit, sauces, jelly cubes, and crunchy sprinkle things, the better.
He figured they were officially friends when Bakugou started saving him a seat in the cafeteria. They sat together with a rotating group of other classmates just about every day and maybe one day a week he’d arrive to drop his bag and find that Bakugou had already snagged him a tray. Usually when they had one of his favorites like gyudon or croquettes.
“Hey thanks, man,” he might say, plopping down next to Bakugou with a smile. “Best seat in the house and no waiting!”
And Bakugou would give him one of those tiny frowns that belies the warmth in his eyes and huff, “Yeah, yeah, Shitty Hair. Don’t let it get cold.”
It's your turn, marksykins!