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Kirishima shouldn’t be swinging right now, as beat up as he is. But without a change of clothes, he’s kind of screwed. He can’t get on the bus looking like he does, he can’t risk flagging down a taxi and having the driver know where Spider-Man lives, and he sure as hell can’t walk on his leg yet. He’ll take his chances on his webs.
He sighs in relief when the UA dorms come into view, shooting a final web right above his balcony. When he lets go, his body drops heavily onto the terrace.
At least, he thought it was his balcony. An angry, sleepy Bakugou proves him wrong.
“The fuck’s wrong with you, Spidey?!” he grits through his teeth as quietly as he can, probably as a courtesy to their neighbors. He isn’t doing a very good job. Kirishima lets him know as much.
“Fuck. You,” Bakugou tells him, flicking the light on. He gives Kirishima a quick once over, brows pinching together once his eyes land on the gash in his chest where his suit is ripped. “What the hell happened, Ei?”
“You should see the other guy,” Kirishima slurs. Bakugou growls.
Kirishima blinks up at him to amend his previous statement, preferably with something a little more articulate to smooth the lines of worry from the blond’s face, when a quick breeze of cold air makes him shiver. By the looks of it, Bakugou is none too pleased about having this conversation outside in the cold, either.
He confirms Kirishima’s theory when he wraps his arms around himself and a quick mutter of, “Get in here, those cuts won’t heal themselves.”
“Well, technically they will, give or take a few days,” Kirishima informs him from his place on the ground. “Promise, s’ok. Just gonna go to sleep. Sorry for wakin’ you up.”
“If you think I’m letting you go anywhere in that shape, you’re dumber than you look. Get the fuck over here,” he grunts, holding the balcony door open for him. “You think I got all night, Red? Come on, before I..”
Kirishima zones out before he can hear the rest of what he has to say, too focused on trying to get up without aggravating his leg. He stumbles to his feet, swaying, then squinting and thinking hard about how walking works. Left foot, right foot, right foot-
Okay, maybe not right foot. Kirishima braces himself with his palms forward, but it turns out he didn’t have to in the first place. Bakugou was already there to catch him before he could go down, snarky comment caught in his throat. Bakugou eyes him weirdly, but as he opens his mouth to speak, they both jump at the sudden knock on Bakugou’s door.
Bakugou’s eyes widen and Kirishima’s being shoved onto the bed before he can even process what the hell is going on. He tosses a blanket at Kirishima so he can hide underneath. “Be fucking quiet, got it?” Bakugou hisses. Kirishima mimes zipping his lips.
“Good evening, Bakugou.” Ah. Aizawa must’ve been clued in to the whisper-yelling on the balcony. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Don’t know what the hell you’re on about, sensei,” Kirishima hears Bakugou answer, clutching the door and using his body to block his view inside. Aizawa gives him an unimpressed look.
“Convincing. Iida said he heard a crash above him,” Aizawa shrugs. “Didn’t seem too far off of a guess considering you live above him. And from the looks of it, your rowdy friend is over.”
Bakugou instinctively shouts, “Nobody’s in here, dammit!”
“Then open the door.”
Bakugou sighs, opens the door all the way until Aizawa can see inside.
Aizawa peeks inside, then mirrors the sigh. “Unless you’ve acquired a red wig and a Kirishima sized pillow, I have to assume that lump under your blanket is him.”
Bakugou sighs, nodding. Kirishima pokes his head out from under the blanket and offers a sheepish smile.
“And I am meant to believe that everything going on is PG-13?” Aizawa deadpans.
Kirishima stifles his giggle with the back of his hand when Bakugou splutters, undoubtedly red faced, yelling out, “We aren’t doing anything!”
Kirishima takes pity on him. “It’s true, sensei, we weren’t! Honest. I had a nightmare. Got a little spooked and wanted to hang out here for a bit. I didn’t give Bakugou much of a choice.”
Aizawa facade breaks, and a wide, creepy grin splits his face. “I’m mostly just messing with the problem child. As long as there’s no problems, we’re in the clear. Have a good night, boys.” He walks down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Bakugou alone to stew in his anger.
“Goodnight!” Kirishima shouts out between laughs as Bakugou musters every bit of self control he has to not slam the door, but not without spitting, “Motherfucker.”
He makes his way back over to Kirishima, not forgetting why he was here in the first place, yanking the blanket off the still laughing redhead.
“Eijirou…” he whispers, finally getting an up close look at his cuts. Kirishima’s laughter comes to a halt when he sees Bakugou’s face go dark.
There it is. The wide eyed concern he never wanted to see on Bakugou’s face on his own behalf. Part of the reason Kirishima had kept this from him in the first place. Bakugou did not need to worry about him more than he already did, no matter how much he pretends he doesn’t.
Before Bakugou knew what Kirishima really did in his free time he was worried about him. Kirishima knew that for a fact. He’s been tutoring Kirishima since he found out he was struggling in his STEM courses. He takes the extra time to reword the phrasing in a way that Kirishima will understand, shows him alternative ways to solve equations until one sticks. He started bringing Kirishima lunches once he discovered that he spent his lunch breaks working on projects he’s behind on instead of eating. He gave up his own lunch breaks to sit and chat with Kirishima and make sure he actually does eat said lunch.
Even if any of those instances were coincidences, Bakugou can’t hide the gentleness behind the way he delicately peels off Kirishima’s suit. He inspects the rips and tears quickly before folding it up to be washed and patched up once he’s done patching Kirishima up.
Kirishima hisses through his teeth and tries to pull back when Bakugou presses a rag to the gash, looking up to keep his tears from falling. Bakugou sees right through him. “Easy, bug boy,” Bakugou whispers, reaching out to hold him in place. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
His face warms while he nods, still avoiding eye contact with Bakugou but now watching his hands work quickly as he can. He flinches every now and again, because despite how much he enjoys how close he is to Bakugou, it still hurts like hell. He can’t stop the whimper that bubbles from his throat when Bakugou grabs the needle and thread out of his first aid kit. He puts it to the side for a moment.
“Maybe now we can work on those upgrades for the suit then, now that your shitty one is all fucked,” Bakugou teases, probably as a distraction.
“Hey! It’s not shitty!”
Bakugou grins. “I didn’t make it, therefore it’s shitty. Catch up, bug brain. I got plans for you.”
“Yeah? What did you have in mind?” he wheezes out as Bakugou inspects his chest for any debris before he continues.
“Well, first I want you to try out the new web formula,” he says, finally piercing the threaded needle through the cut. Kirishima gasps, but Bakugou keeps talking. “Been working on that damn thing for ages, but I think I finally got it how I want it.”
Pride wells up in his chest. “I bet you did great, babe,” he tells him honestly.
“Hope so. Don’t need your webs snapping in half mid-swing and giving you anymore concussions.” Bakugou pauses his ministrations to run his hand through Kirishima’s fallen hair softly, letting him breathe for a moment. “Want to work on getting some better armor in that suit, too. This happens too fucking often, and I know you try to walk it off alone most of the time. Damn martyr.”
Kirishima grunts. “Would save me a lot of trouble.”
“You can bet your ass it will.” Bakugou winces in sympathy at a particularly harsh poke through Kirishima’s skin. Kirishima whines quietly. “I know. I’m almost done.”
Bakugou’s quiet the rest of the time he works, bar humming and shushing Kirishima when he tries to pull away. He finally, finally puts down the needle and inspects his handiwork. Once he deems it as satisfactory, he brings his hands back to Kirishima’s hair, scratching lightly to distract from the dull ache.
“There. Good as new, Spidey,” he tells Kirishima. “Please fucking try to have a little more self preservation next time.” Kirishima knows it means please take care of yourself.
The weight of his fight tonight catches up to him, flashes of the villain’s hand pushing his head below the water every time he tried to come up for a breath. The way it spoke to him like he was powerless to stop him; like it knew something Kirishima didn’t. Its claws digging into his chest and serving as a temporary but all too real reminder that he isn’t invincible.
“Sorry,” he says.
And he is. He’s sorry for crash landing on the wrong balcony, he’s sorry for getting hurt when he should’ve been stronger, he’s sorry for troubling Bakugou in the first place. He doesn’t have the energy to tell him, though.
So instead he asks a hopeful, “Can I stay with you tonight?” with rough hands resting on Bakugou’s cheeks.
He expects an argument. Kirishima holds his breath, waiting on a logical reason for him to sleep in his own room. They’d basically been given a free pass from Aizawa, after all. It was up to Bakugou. Kirishima watches Bakugou’s face soften, and he knows he’s won.
“Course you can, Ei,” Bakugou breathes, turning his head and kissing Kirishima's calloused palm.
Bakugou drags him over to his bed, pulling him down almost desperately. Minding his stitches, he rests his arms low on Kirishima’s waist, strong yet tender, trembling slightly. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Kirishima knows he’s scared.
Kirishima is scared, too, of course he is. It’s terrifying now that Bakugou not only knows the most important secret he’s ever had, but also that Bakugou is the only person who knows.
He’s seen firsthand how batshit crazy people can be; how power drives people to do inhumane things. And though he is at the frontlines when those people lose their minds, he wants Bakugou nowhere near it.
Kirishima’s stomach twists at the thought of anybody putting their hands on Bakugou with ill intent.
But right now? Right now, he has no choice but to feel safe in Bakugou’s arms. Like this, it feels like they’ll be okay. Like they can keep this between Eijirou and Katsuki. Like Spider-Man exists somewhere else, somewhere they can’t be touched.
It’s enough for Kirishima.