✨ A Space In Between ✨

[a kiribaku thread]

When Katsuki misses a flight due to a mishap by the airline, he's forced to share a room with a redheaded idiot who missed the same flight.
✈ QRT, don't reply!
✈ No quirks AU!
✈ Strangers to lovers!
✈ Based on this article about two people who missed a flight and were given a hotel room with one bed!
✈ Originally a commission for @Akaya_95!
“This flight has already boarded, Mr. Bakugou.”
“I’m well aware that the damn flight has already boarded, but,” Katsuki takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to completely fucking explode, “my other flight was delayed and just landed 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰.
How the hell was I supposed to get from terminal A to here in less than five minutes? That’s fucking impossible! I can’t fucking teleport!”
“I’m sorry, but that’s an issue you have to take up with the airline, sir. I can give you the number to call with any complaints, but that's all I can do,” the attendant replies, so level-headed that it makes Katsuki even more angry.
He opens his mouth to spit more venom, but the sound of a suitcase rolling up behind him and a shout of “Hey, man, it’s not his fault we got screwed over by the airline!” interrupts his potential tirade.
A warm hand lands on Katsuki’s shoulder and he’s so stunned by the act that he snaps his mouth shut with an audible click and lets his eyes slowly trail up the toned arm until they land on the face of the offender.
The man is disheveled and out of breath, sweat beading on his forehead and bright red hair falling out of his messy bun as his chest heaves; it’s obvious that he’s just sprinted across the airport just as Katsuki has.
Lined red eyes scrunch up as he flashes a megawatt smile and offers an apology before asking, “Could I get a copy of that number, too? I had the same issue and need to sort this out as quickly as possible so I can get home for the holidays!”
“Of course, sir.” Handing over the business card with the number jotted down on the back, the attendant returns the smile gratefully with a bow. “Here you go, I hope you’re able to get home safely.”
“Thank you!” he chirps, then squeezes Katsuki’s shoulder before releasing his grip. That finally snaps Katsuki back to reality and he turns to tear into the man for touching him so casually, but he and his stupidly bright red suitcase are gone before Katsuki can get a word out.
Katsuki opens and closes his mouth several times before turning back to the attendant with a growl, snatching the card offered by the man with an apologetic shrug and stomping off to make the call.
Finding a spot near one of the airport’s floor-to-ceiling windows for the best service, Katsuki fishes around in his pocket for his phone, then dials the number on the back of the card.
The line rings for three minutes too damn long, then he’s placed on hold, forced to listen to shitty, upbeat pop for another fifteen, before he finally gets to talk to someone. The overly chipper operator profusely apologizes for his inconvenience, promising to note this so that
the problem will not occur again before remorsefully informing him, “I’m afraid all we can do is give you a complimentary hotel room for the night and an alternate flight for tomorrow.”

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨—fine,” Katsuki grits out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
The hag is gonna be pissed he won’t be home in time for her birthday, but it’s not his damn fault the airline is fucking incompetent. “What time is the flight?”
“The next available flight would have you boarding at 3:45 PM and landing in Tokyo at Narita International Airport at 7:38 PM. Would you like me to book it?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”
“Okay, you’re all set! Your hotel accommodations have been emailed to you and we hope you have a safe trip home, Mr. Bakugou. Thank you for your patience and we hope you’ll fly with us again soon!”
Katsuki grunts and hangs up the phone, muttering a ‘𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺,’ as he pulls up his email and finds the hotel’s address.
Fortunately, it’s one of the airport hotels so it's within walking distance. 𝘜𝘯fortunately, it's December so the walk to the hotel is subzero, biting wind whipping Katsuki's bright yellow scarf around him and piercing through his winter coat as if it were made of paper.
His fingers 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 and he loudly curses the fact that he opted to pack his gloves in his luggage instead of wearing them to the airport in hopes of making his trip through security easier.

By the time he crosses the threshold to the hotel, he's only kept warm by the blood
boiling in his veins. His cheeks and ears are painfully red, barely thawing in the comforting warmth the lobby wraps him in, and his eyes leak chilled tears as he checks in and sits down on a plush sofa in front of a roaring fireplace.
His anger melts into a mild irritation as warmth finally starts to seep into his bones after a few long minutes in front of the fire and a steaming mug of hot chocolate that he accepted from a far too cheerful concierge with a quiet, reluctant "thanks."
He’s finishing off the warm drink when a voice calls out, "Hey, I know you!"
"No, you don't," Katsuki barks back instinctually, not even bothering to turn around to see who made the outrageous claim.

“Yes, I do!”
Someone plops down next to him on the couch and Katsuki’s serene warmth is stoked into a raging inferno matching the fire crackling just a few feet away. “I 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 no, you—” He turns, lips pulled back in a snarl, and is met with a face he recognizes. “Fuck.”
The idiot that also missed the flight is sitting next to him, an easy smile on his face showing off a set of dangerous teeth. His eyes light up & he snaps, grinning even wider as he points a finger at Katsuki. “Its Bakugou, right? I'm Kirishima Eijirou!”

“Well,” he quips, looking up at the chandelier hanging over their head and tucking a stray lock of bright hair behind his ear, “not 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 unbelievable. Same flight, same reason for missing said flight. Makes sense they’d put us up in the same hotel.
You on the 1:30 to Tokyo tomorrow, too?”

“No, fuck off, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki bites, standing up and snatching up his carry-on bag to sling over his shoulder. “We’re not fucking friends because we missed the same flight. Find someone else to bother.”
As Katsuki pulls up the handle to his suitcase, Shitty Hair does the same with a smirk. “Aw, but I wouldn’t get such colorful language from anyone else, Blasty!”

“What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you just call me?!”
Katsuki seethes, yanking his suitcase behind him as he stomps up to the bastard until they’re practically chest to chest. If looks could kill, Shitty Hair would be nothing more than a smoldering pile of ash, but alas, Katsuki does not have the ability to annihilate men with just
a look, or even the ability to explode them at his discretion, so the asshole just stands there, wearing that stupid, smug grin and looking down at Katsuki.
Shitty Hair shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Figured it was fitting and you’re only proving my point.”

“You got a goddamn death wish, asshole?"

"Nah," he drawls, leaning casually against the sofa. "You're just really fun to tease, man. You get all growly and red, it's hilarious."
"I'll fucking 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 you growly—!"

"Mr. Bakugou?" The concierge calls out, interrupting what was going to be a 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 colorful threat of intense violence, and Katsuki snarls at Shitty Hair before shoulder-checking him on his way up to the desk.
The concierge bows her head as he walks up to her desk. "There seems to have been a mix-up; we have already checked in a guest for suite 204, which is the room that was reserved for you.
"204?" That same annoyingly melodic voice asks from behind Katsuki and he lets his head fall backwards to stare up at the ceiling as a groan builds in his throat. He already hates where this is going.
"That's my room," the idiot says, holding up his room key as he takes the spot next to Katsuki and leans an arm on the counter.

"Oh! Then I must apologize to both of you for the mistake & will do my best to remedy it. Let me just find another available room for you Mr. Bakugou."
She spends a few moments typing, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the lobby save for the soft jazz playing over the speakers and the crackling of the fire. Knitting her eyebrows together, she clicks around for another moment, then sighs quietly.
"I'm sorry, sir, but it seems as if we're totally booked for tonight. I can call and find you a room in one of our sister hotels, though it may take a little time. You're free to wait here and enjoy our complimentary refreshments while you wait."

"Yeah, alright—"
"We can share a room, I don't mind!"

Katsuki cuts his eyes over to the bastard and growls out, "What did you just say?"

Wearing a concerned look, he turns to face Katsuki.
"I said we can share the room. It's way too late and way too cold for you to make the trip to another hotel, so just stay with me, man. It's not a big deal."

The concierge's hand hovers over the keypad of the phone, receiver in her other hand, and waits for Katsuki's response.
The idiot's right and he can't find any reason to say no, so Katsuki grits out a tense, "𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦," and the concierge brightens up, setting down the phone.
"Great!" she says as she makes another copy of the room's keycard. "Check out is at 12:45 and we hope you enjoy your stay with us!"

"Thank you!" Shitty Hair chirps, waving a goodbye as they roll their luggage to the elevator and get on board.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Katsuki growls when he crosses the threshold of the room, handing tightening around the strap of his bag.

"What—" the idiot mutters, placing two hands on Katsuki's arms to move him aside so he can see. "Oh shit."
Yanking out of the man's grip, Katsuki sneers, "Yeah, 𝘰𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵. Why the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 is there only one bed in this goddamn hotel room?"

"I'm not sure what we did, but I think karma's out to get us, dude."
"Must be you because I'm a fucking angel," Katsuki grits out, tossing his bag to the ground and toeing out of his shoes before falling back onto the bed with a loud groan.
Red appears in Katsuki's vision as Shitty Hair appears above him wearing a mischievous look. "Think we can convince them to give us free room service for all the trouble?"
Katsuki pushes himself up onto his forearms and narrows his eyes, searching for a reason to say no to the idiot's plan just to be contrary, but a loud growl of his stomach betrays how good some food sounds right about now.
"I'm thinking we get some lobster, maybe a steak or two," Shitty Hair announces, humming as he taps his chin in thought. "Think they have Wagyu beef?"

"Fuck if I know, but this hellhole is pretty damn fancy, so they might," Katsuki finds himself replying despite himself.
He hasn't eaten in who knows how fucking long, so if he has to play nice with the idiot for a little while to get an nice, warm meal, then he'll be the nicest fucker this asshole has ever met.
Shitty Hair's eyebrows shoot up when Katsuki actually responds like he wasn't expecting Katsuki to speak, then he flashes that bright grin and plops down on the side of the bed nearest the bedside table to reach the phone.
Dialing quickly, he holds the receiver between his head and neck and turns to face Katsuki once more. "Lobster and steak good for you too, or do you want something else? Might as well milk this opportunity for all it's worth, right?"
Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes. "With that logic, you should just order two of everything."

The idiot blinks. "Damn. That's a great idea."

"I wasn't being serious, idiot."
"I am though!" he chirps, then holds up a hand to stop Katsuki's protests before singing a greeting into the receiver. He waits a moment, nodding idly, then puts on the charm, smiling wide and flirtatiously even though the concierge can't see him as he makes their request.
He must get an affirmative response because he smiles impossibly wider and flashes Katsuki a thumbs-up as he continues talking. Once he finishes giving their order, he gives a happy goodbye and hangs up with a smirk.
"I can't believe that shit worked," Katsuki mutters, genuinely impressed.

"I've been told I'm quite charming."

"Really?" Katsuki drawls, quirking an eyebrow. "I've yet to see it."
Shitty Hair huffs out a laugh, good-natured smile melting into a challenging grin after a moment. "I'll win you over eventually, Blasty! Just you wait!"

"Yeah, sure you will." Waving dismissively, Katsuki rolls his eyes as his lips pull up in the ghost of a smile.
"Wanna watch a movie while we eat? I conned them into giving us free pay-per-view, too. You like superheroes? I bet they have the new All Might movie featuring Crimson Riot! These things always get the new releases first!"
"Whatever, I don't care." Katsuki 𝘩𝘢𝘴 been dying to see the new movie since its release, but Shitty Hair doesn't need to know that.
"Yeah, okay," Shitty Hair replies, sarcastic, as he hunts for the remote to the TV. "Don't think I didn't notice the All Might luggage tag on your bag."

Well, shit. "Fine, All Might doesn't suck. Happy? Just put the damn movie on."
Grinning cheekily, Shitty Hair pulls up the movie and clicks 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺.
To be honest, Katsuki barely remembers eating and doesn't absorb any of the movie because he spends the entire time admiring how the colors of the screen highlight Kirishima's strong jaw and turn his hair a rich plum, how big red eyes light up and widen when Crimson Riot comes on
screen like a little kid, how slightly chapped lips mouth along to his favorite hero's declaration of, "𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰!"
Everything about Shitty Hair is 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥—his style, a combination of a yellow button-up shirt covered in toucans, ripped up black jeans, and red fucking Crocs; his hair, obnoxiously bright and pulled high on his head; his gestures, sweeping and dramatic as he tells little
anecdotes about his childhood whenever Crimson Riot appears onscreen; his speaking, which makes Katsuki's ears ring. He's 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥, but Katsuki finds himself, surprisingly, not annoyed by his presence.
He even catches himself actively listening to the idiot's stories, hanging on each word and unwittingly learning all there is to know about him.

He's got two moms and a 7-year-old sister, who he's anxious to get home to for the holidays.
He's studying to become a doctor because "𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦!" He dyed his hair to emulate Crimson Riot and he wears hideous clothes because he likes the reactions it pulls from people and he's never met a
dog he doesn't like. When he talks about his passions, he lights up like the sun is trapped beneath his tan skin and it's such a mesmerizing sight that Katsuki wishes he could photograph it so he can have it forever, even after they go their separate ways.
He doesn't know what to think of that desire. Doesn't know what to think of the fact that he's found himself completely and totally enamored with the man sitting next to him and even All Might's newest movie can't seem to pull his attention away.
Crossing his arms with a quiet huff, Katsuki forcefully averts his eyes to watch the movie once more.

On screen, Crimson Riot is fighting back to back with All Might, punching villains with hardened, shiny fists.
Kirishima's eyes are gleaming with unshed tears, whispering praises over how manly the fight is under his breath, and once again, Katsuki finds his eyes wandering over to his company rather than watching his all time favorite superhero fight the biggest fight of his career and
curses under his breath.

It must be his lack of proper sleep causing this shit. That's the only explanation that makes any damn sense.
Soon enough, the credits are rolling and Kirishima is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, laughing softly. "Man, that was even better than I could've imagined. I've been waiting since I was a kid to see Crimson Riot on the big screen.
I couldn't see it in theatres because it was finals week and I was way too busy cramming, so it means a lot that you agreed to watch it with me, dude."

"Yeah, don't mention it, Shitty Hair. Don't expect to watch another one though, it's already too damn late.
Had a 24-hour layover before all of this bullshit, so I'm fucking tired. I’ll take the floor,” Katsuki grunts out, stealing a pillow and dropping it to the ground before getting up to rifle through the linen closet for a blanket.

“Dude, no way, you’re not sleeping on the ground.
You just said you had a 24-hour layover and probably slept on some shitty airport chairs, so if anyone deserves to sleep on this 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦,” Kirishima sweeps a hand across the gaudy comforter in an inviting fashion, “comfy bed, it’s you. I can sleep down there, it’s no big deal!”
Damn, that bed 𝘪𝘴 really fucking nice & Katsuki 𝘪𝘴 really fucking tired. “Fine, asshole but you're not sleeping on the ground either.”

Kirishima’s freckled cheeks burn bright red & he straightens up, eyes widening. “W-what?”

“It’s a queen-sized bed, idiot. We both can fit.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, man. I’ve been told I steal blankets and I move a lot in my sleep, so I’m sure it wouldn’t be a fun experience for you.” He chuckles humorlessly and scratches the back of his head, ruffling his drooping red hair.
“Can’t have you killing me in the middle of the night because I accidentally kicked you, my family is expecting me home tomorrow.”

“Chill the fuck out and lie down, Shitty Hair.”
Katsuki presses a hand against Kirishima’s chest and eases him down onto the bed. Kirishima’s eyes frantically flick around Katsuki’s face, obviously startled and flustered, then finally he relents and flops down on the bed with a soft 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘩 of breath.
Katsuki grabs the pillow of the ground and tosses it on the other side of the bed, quickly following it and sliding under the blankets next to Kirishima.
Once Katsuki's settled, the idiot bolts upright and starts unbuttoning his shirt, tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates.
"What the hell are you doing, idiot?!" Katsuki yells, decidedly not watching how Kirishima's back muscles flex as he shrugs the shirt off and tosses it to the ground.

"I gotta sleep shirtless, man, I get way too hot in my sleep!"
"Fine, what the fuck ever," Katsuki grumbles, turning over to hide how red his face has gotten. "Just lay down and go to sleep already."

"Yes, sir," Kirishima chirps with a salute, then drops back down onto the bed, making the mattress and Katsuki jostle.
They lay in silence for a while, both unsure if the other is awake or not, until Katsuki decides to roll over and shatter the tense atmosphere. “You share a bed often?”


“You said you’ve been told you steal blankets and move around, so you must share a bed with someone.”
“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, “just Mina, my friend.”


A snort is pulled from the redhead. “Absolutely not. She’s my best friend and I love her to death, but she is definitely not my type.”
“Yeah? What is your type then, Shitty Hair?” Katsuki eyes widen at the words that escape his mouth without his permission. What the fuck, brain-to-mouth filter?
Kirishima rolls over onto his side, eyes shining in the moonlight streaming through the sheer curtains as he lets them roam over Katsuki mindlessly. “Manly. Obviously works out. Little rough around the edges. Tough. Strong. Takes shit from no one. Driven. Passionate.”
“And Mina isn’t those things?”

“Oh, she is. She’s just not a guy, so,” he trails off, finally pulling his gaze away from Katsuki.

With a weary sigh, he rolls back over, folding his hands on his stomach, and mutters, “Yeah, so it’s out there now. I get it if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll just sleep on the ground and finally be out of your hair in the morning.”
He starts to sit up, but Katsuki slings an arm over his—wow, very toned—middle, stopping him and pulling him back until Kirishima is lying down next to him once more.
Even then, he doesn’t remove his arm, letting it sit there even though his skin is 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 at the contact despite the clothing barrier. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to someone.
“Just—fuck. Stop. I ain’t interested in anyone because most people fucking suck, but I— 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵. Gender doesn’t matter as long as the person can keep up with me.”

“Yeah. So stop worrying and stay in the damn bed, Kirishima,” he grumbles and finally, he lets his hand trail its way across the hardened planes of Kirishima’s waist and fall to the bed in between them with a heavy thump.

Katsuki grunts, “What?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, idiot.”

Kirishima smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Ha, I guess you’re right.”

“What is it?”

“Where do you live?”
Katsuki should’ve expected this, should’ve known that the dumbass would try to force himself into Katsuki’s life after all this, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t find it in himself to refuse to answer.
He’s not even annoyed that Kirishima asked and when the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 had he started to mentally refer to the idiot by his name and not Shitty Hair? “Musutafu,” he finds himself saying.
The light seems to blink back in Kirishima’s eyes as he smiles, for real this time, wide and blindingly white. “I live in Chiba! That’s close enough that we could…” he lets himself trail off, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and digging sharp teeth in as his eyebrows knit
worriedly. “Never mind. Can I just—” Kirishima cuts himself off again, this time with a disgruntled hum, seeming to be warring with himself about something, then grasps Katsuki’s hand with one of his, lacing their fingers together, and lays them back on his chest.
“I’m really glad I missed that flight,” he whispers into the dark room, aimed up at the ceiling to avoid Katsuki’s probing gaze.
Katsuki's almost sure he can see where those words hang heavy in the air between them, the weight of what they imply pressing down on his chest where his heart's pounding against its cage, desperate for freedom, for an admittance that they mean what he wants them to mean.
Every 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 of Kirishima's hammering heart under his palm only adds to that oppressive weight pressing down and down and 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 until Katsuki finally starts to splinter and shatter under the pressure, under the implications.
“Yeah, me too.”
The first time Katsuki wakes, he's shivering, completely uncovered on the very edge of the bed, while Kirishima is starfished across the mattress on his stomach, wrapped completely in the blankets.
With a growl, he pushes Kirishima's arm and leg back towards his side of the bed and yanks some of the covers back from where they're coiled around his companion. "Idiot was right about one thing," he mutters under his breath as he flips over and falls back to sleep.
The second time Katsuki wakes, he's facing Kirishima's back as soft sunlight shines in through the curtains, painting the room with a honeyed glow.

Ruby red hair spills over bare, freckled shoulders and Katsuki can't tear his eyes away.
His hands itch with the need to touch, to skim every inch of that tanned skin, to map out every small scar, bruise, and mole with the tips of his calloused fingers.
He wants to trace the muscles of Kirishima’s broad back, feel every valley and dip between his shoulder blades, and before he can think twice about it, he’s reaching a hand out to do just that.
It brings a growl to Katsuki’s throat, low and frustrated, because he’s never 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 like this before. He wants to wake up to this sight every morning, see the way that Kirishima’s eyes glow in the light of the moon every night.
He 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴, but he cannot have because today, they go on their separate paths. The universe gave him this idiot and made Katsuki feel things he’s never felt before, only to rip him away.
His fingers make contact with Kirishima's warm skin and it pulls a reaction from the redhead, a low groan emitting from him as he turns over and slings an arm around Katsuki’s waist. With a sleepy hum, he curls in close and presses his face into Katsuki’s neck.
Despite the warm breath fanning across Katsuki’s flushing skin, he’s frozen and a shiver runs up his spine.

Soft snores fill the air as Kirishima falls back to sleep and Katsuki sighs, letting his own eyes fall shut and bask in this little pocket of happiness while he still can.
The third time Katsuki wakes, it’s to the sound of loud, melodic singing. Blinking awake, Katsuki concludes it’s 𝘒𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢'𝘴 loud, melodic singing.
He’s belting some American pop song, giving his all in his performance for the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner provided for the hotel guests until Katsuki hears the telltale noise of slipping and a resounding 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘥.
After that, Kirishima is eerily quiet, which has Katsuki wondering if the idiot knocked himself out on the faucet as he examines the gaudy decor of the room.
The colors are annoyingly bright and clashing—the walls an ugly mint-colored argyle with maroon molding while the bedding is a sickening pink—and if Katsuki tips his head back, he can see red and white roses embossed on the dark purple and white bed frame above him.
As a whole, the entire room is a fucking eyesore and—

Wait a fucking minute.

Katsuki sits straight up in the bed, the covers falling down to pool at his hips.

This is a goddamn 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦.

What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬.

"Why are you yelling at 9 in the morning?" Opening the door to the bathroom and letting a cloud of steam roll out, Kirishima emerges with only a towel wrapped around his waist and a towel in hand, drying his bright hair.
"This is a goddamn honeymoon suite!" Katsuki growls, gesturing around them.

"Uh, yeah, dude, I Googled this place on the walk over and none of the suites on their website looked anything like this. They all had, like, wood paneling and cream bedding and shit.
This is 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 the honeymoon suite. Totally gaudy, but I think it's kinda charming!"

"You 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 think so," Katsuki mutters under his breath, pointedly looking anywhere but at Kirishima's abs, still glistening with water from the shower.

"So I was thinking—"
"Don't hurt yourself."

"Ha ha, very funny. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, I was thinking, we still have a little while until our flights. Wanna go swimming?" Kirishima asks as he opens his suitcase to rummage for clothes.
"It's fucking winter. Do you have 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 in your head under all that hair?"

"The pool is indoor, dummy. And heated."

Katsuki flounders for another excuse, but Kirishima is already gone, closing the bathroom door behind him as he goes to get dressed.
With a sigh, Katsuki flops back on the bed and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes harshly.

Looks like there's no getting out of this shit. Maybe Kirishima was right about bad karma because this just feels like the universe torturing him.
Groaning quietly, he fishes some shorts from his suitcase and slips them on as Kirishima returns from the bathroom, smiling wide when he sees that Katsuki is going along with his plan.
Katsuki pretends he doesn't notice how Kirishima's eyes linger on his torso, but it undeniably brings heat to his cheeks.

"Ready to go?"
"Yeah, whatever," Katsuki grunts, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and following Kirishima out of the room and down the hall.
It's early enough in the morning that there's no one else in the pool area, having just opened at the top of the hour. "Nice, got it all to ourselves!" Kirishima cheers, shedding his shirt and jumping into the pool with little preamble.
Water cascades onto the cement dangerously close to the chair Katsuki had selected to set their things in, so grumbling, he finds one as far away from the pool as he can and pulls his own shirt over his head to fold and add to the pile.
"C'mon, Bakugou!" comes Kirishima's cry from the deep end of the pool.

With a roll of his eyes, Katsuki pads over to the edge of the pool and looks down at the idiot, whose red hair floats around him like ink in the water.
Kirishima grins devilishly at him and before Katsuki can even decipher what that look can mean, he's grabbed around his middle and pulled into the biting water, a scream interrupted by his loud splash.
Clinging to Kirishima and trying his hardest to get out of the water, Katsuki yells, "It's fucking cold, asshole! I thought you said this shit was heated!" His voice echoes in the room, bouncing off the walls and water and soon is accompanied by Kirishima's boisterous laughing.
"You're such a baby!"

"Take that back, fucker!" Katsuki shrieks, shoving a hand down on Kirishima's head to dunk him.
Kirishima sputters, splashing icy water up Katsuki's arm and sending more shivers down his spine. "Okay, okay, chill out!" Kirishima cries, laughing when he finally reemerges, slightly pink water cascading down his face.
With one smooth movement, he hooks an arm around Katsuki's waist and lifts him out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool, situating himself between Katsuki's thighs. "Such a mean baby."
"Don't fucking call me that," Katsuki gripes quietly, flicking Kirishima's forehead as two warm hands find their place on his thighs to hold Kirishima steady as he looks up at Katsuki.
Before he even realizes it, Katsuki is leaning down as Kirishima is moving closer. Their lips are a hair's breadth apart when Katsuki almost feels more than hears Kirishima ask, "Can I kiss you?"

Jolting as if he'd been punched, Kirishima pulls away, his face a harsh red as he begins to stammer, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Bakugou. I totally misread this whole thing, shit, oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm gonna go now—"
"You didn't let me finish, bastard." Katsuki narrows his eyes challengingly. "𝘕𝘰, you've got to earn it."

Kirishima blinks once, twice, then a smirk slowly blooms on his face, his own eyes narrowing to match Katsuki's. "Oh, you're on, Bakugou."
For the next couple hours, Kirishima relentlessly flirts with Katsuki as they swim, shooting off bad pick-up lines and puns as he splashes arcs of water at Katsuki, who's finally gotten used to the bitterly cold water.
Secretly, Katsuki is thankful that the water is freezing, as it does a great job of controlling the blush that Kirishima's shameless words bring to his cheeks.
Once or twice, he even goes as far as to flirt back, a quick playful jab or teasing banter in response to one of Kirishima's quips just to throw the man off and give himself a moment to breathe.
Kirishima's actually taking the challenge seriously and it makes Katsuki's heart thunder in his chest, especially so whenever Kirishima flexes his arms and asks if Katsuki'd like to feel his biceps.
Katsuki catches himself before he says something stupid like yes, and instead just rolls his eyes before placing two hands on the edge of the pool and pushing himself out of the water.
Walking back to retrieve his phone from their pile of towels and clothes, Katsuki glances back to find Kirishima brazenly checking out his ass and when Katsuki catches his eye, he simply smirks and raises an eyebrow, challenging Katsuki to say something.
With a scoff, Katsuki checks the time on his phone and announces they need to go pack up if they want to get back to the airport in time for their flights. Whining loudly, Kirishima gets out of the pool and throws himself onto Katsuki's back, arms wrapping around his neck.
"Warm me up, Bakugou," he wails, as if he isn't making them both colder by not drying himself off.

"And you say 𝘐'𝘮 a baby," Katsuki grouses as he turns in Kirishima's hold and drapes a towel over Kirishima's shoulders.
"You can be 𝘮𝘺 bab—" Katsuki interrupts the flirty line by slapping a hand over Kirishima's cocky grin, ignoring how his eyebrows wiggle nonetheless.

"Don't make me regret this." Kirishima winks and Katsuki removes his hand, rolling his eyes. "Let's go, idiot."
After they're all packed up and done checking out, Katsuki follows Kirishima out of the doors of the hotel lobby and towards the airport. The walk is awkward, filled with a tension you could cut with a knife.
Kirishima tries, and fails, to start up a conversation a half dozen times, but their back and forth feels forced now as they both realize their time together is slowly dwindling.
Finally, they reach the airport and walk to the gate both of their flights will leave out of just as the announcement for boarding for Kirishima's flight sounds over the speakers.

“Well, that’s my flight. I guess this is goodbye, Bakugou.”
“Giving up that easy, Red?”

Kirishima looks taken aback, obviously floundering for a response. “I-I have to board right now, dude. I can’t afford to miss another fight. I have, like, $5 to my name.”
“God, you’re so lucky you’re cute, dumbass.” Katsuki surges forward, grabbing Kirishima’s soft face and pulling him into a kiss.

Right in the middle of an airport terminal like some goddamn cliché romcom protagonist.


How is this Katsuki’s life?
Kirishima goes stock still, cheeks warming under his calloused hands, and Katsuki instantly regrets every decision he’s made up until this moment.
He pulls away, mortified, and opens his mouth to apologize, only to have the breath stolen out of his lungs by Kirishima catching his mouth in a hard, open-mouthed kiss.
It’s the furthest thing from delicate; there’s a desperation and panic to it like Kirishima is worried that Katsuki will disappear if he doesn’t put his everything into this kiss, and it makes Katsuki light-headed with relief and happiness.
One of Kirishima’s warm hands wraps around his waist and the other comes up to thread into soft blond hair to tilt Katsuki’s head to a better angle. Their mouths fit together like two puzzle pieces and something inside Katsuki just 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴.
He’s never wanted anyone like this. He’s never done anything like this before, never cared about relationships at all in fact, until he was threatened with the prospect of never seeing Kirishima again.
The thought made him impulsive, drove him to get out of his own head and take that leap. When Kirishima has to pull away because he’s smiling too hard, sharp teeth on display, Katsuki’s so fucking glad he did.
Kirishima searches his face for a moment, then pulls him forward by the front of his jacket for one more bruising kiss and nips his bottom lip as he pulls away. “I promise I’ll see you soon, Katsuki.”
Katsuki’s brain totally shuts down when he hears his given name in Kirishima’s mouth and Kirishima takes that moment to slip away, pulling that hideously bright red suitcase that matches his hair behind him as he heads towards his gate.
He hands the attendant his ticket to scan, then enters the bridge, turning around at the very last second to blow a kiss back to Katsuki.
Katsuki's heart soars at the sight and he can't stop himself from whipping out his phone the second Kirishima disappears from view to send the redhead a text.
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