Chapter Text
Today was the day.
Definitely.
Probably.
Possibly.
Maybe.
Fuck.
Okay. No.
Today.
Was the day.
It had to be.
If only to get Katsuki Bakugō off your back.
He'd been drilling exasperated holes into you with his red stare for the past week after your insanely embarrassing faux pas of ogling his (insanely gorgeous) partner’s ass.
Staring pointedly at you with obvious eye movements to his (beautifully) brawny friend. Huffing with increasing frustration each time you chickened out from the inevitable interaction.
You wanted to! You did!
But whenever you were around Kirishima, you just kinda... bluescreened.
You looked up (always up) into those gorgeous warm garnet eyes and you just...
Stayed there. Happy to be there. Completely content just to be around him and his summer day personality and sunbeam smile.
And after the revelation of last week, the idea that he maybe (possibly/probably?) would reciprocate or even be interested in maybe (possibly/who were you kidding) exploring said reciprocity made your insides all fluttery and your heart speed up.
Being given the go-ahead to explore and actually going ahead and exploring though?
Two completely different things.
Despite Pro Hero Dynamight’s insistence, you weren’t 100% convinced that your feelings actually were reciprocated by Big Red.
You’d had a bit of a moment before getting caught with your eyes on the metaphorical fruit basket (basketball shorts), when you’d pulled a piece of fluff out of his hair.
It had been the closest you’d allowed yourself to the Unbreakable Hero and it had left a powerful impression on you. It had added so much material to your spank bank, you were still riding the high.
You’d put one arm on his and it had been so warm and smooth. Hard like it could stand against any storm and never buckle.
His hair had been surprisingly soft when you'd plucked the dust bunny out. You’d always expected it to be gelled stiff with all the product he used but it was silky.
Or maybe that was your infatuation talking.
Whatever. You hadn’t wanted to move away and needed to remind yourself that you were at work and not alone.
Definitely not free to slide up against that sculpted chest and press closer to his throat, huffing him like an addict.
And fuck, he had smelled so gooood...
His hands were gigantic, everything about him made you feel small in the most delicious way.
His shoulders were practically twice the breadth of yours and he was all powerful muscle and sinew.
Fuck, that did it for you.
Muscles that could pick you up like you were a grocery bag, tuck you under one arm and just carry you wherever they wanted without breaking any kind of sweat.
Throwing you over a shoulder that practically spanned your waist, bicep squeezing your upper thighs to keep you there, you needing to prop yourself upright on rolling back muscles while you stared down at undulating glutes that were tantalisingly close to your touch.
Glutes that you could sink your nails into as they helped hips thrust forward into you as you clenched tight over his di-
You flung yourself bodily from that careening train of thought as it crashed off the bridge of self-control and into a chasm of lust.
You were still at work and you not one of Those People.
You knew who you worked for and with.
You dared anyone, even people who didn’t swing that way, not to get flustered when around the two mem.
They were young, handsome, heroes before they’d officially been given the title. They exuded safety – if they were there, there’s no way Red Riot and Dynamite would let whatever was happening continue.
That was admirable, regardless of whether or not you wanted to get in their pants.
And sooooooo many people wanted to. Sooooooooo many.
There were horror stories inscribed in the agency’s welcome package – work urban legends of employees who’d tried to seduce Red Riot and Dynamite in every damn way, shape and form.
It was embarrassing, honestly, the lengths some people would go (and had gone!) to get into bed with them.
And while they both ticked pretty much every box on your spank bank proforma, you would definitely not be one of Those People.
So Kirishima was off limits.
Left to be pined over late at night, in the comfort of your own bed, with your fingers indulging in your filthy, filthy thoughts.
But then had come that horrible, horrible morning.
When all the private became public in the worst possible way in front of the worst possible person imaginable.
You’d thought Chargebolt would be the worst person to discover your Red Riot fixation but if he had, he would have made suggestive comments that you could have just laughed off while secretly switching his energy drinks for mineral water in revenge.
Everyone would have had a good laugh but the office gossip mill would have ground on, finding something else to reduce to powder.
But no.
It had to be Dynamight.
Red Riot’s best friend, hero partner and frequent fellow sexual harassment victim.
That was bad enough – that he’d witnessed you being one of Those People to his bestie.
But you were coming to realise that Bakugō was way worse than his school friend.
Because he wouldn’t let you get away with it.
If there was a whiff of weakness, Dynamight was on it like a starving dog on sausages.
And now...
Now he’d all but given you carte blanche to make a move on his partner.
What the fuck was that???
You were allowed??
When the hell did that happen?? Had there been a memo you’d missed? Some agency meeting you hadn’t attended?
Did... did he know something you didn’t?
Because surely Dynamight wouldn’t pimp out his friend like that. Not after all they’d been through.
Did... you maybe have a chance?
A chance at... all that...?
All that being an incredible, gorgeous man who ticked every box you consciously and subconsciously had whilst simultaneously being everything you never realised you valued in a relationship, sexual or otherwise?
Jeez, listen to you – were you drunk?
Riot drunk, maybe...
Fuck, someone just kill you now.
You didn’t know what the fuck had gotten into you but you knew one thing for absolute certain.
If you didn’t put your big girl pants on in the next 3 hours and 42 minutes before clock-out, your boss was going to take matters into his own hands and you would never be able to show your face in the country again.
Possibly, the northern hemisphere.
Okay.
No more cowardice. No more dodging.
Just get it done.
You’d give yourself half an hour to update your resume, just in case everything was going to go pear-shaped and you needed to make a quick exit from the city.
Then you’d do it.
You had to.
Because an hour ago, you’d been working on data entry while trying to work up courage when a large hand took hold of the back of your chair firmly.
You were spun around into Dynamite’s scowl, locking eyes with him as he leaned down into your space.
“Short Stuff,” he growled through gritted teeth. “For the love of fuck. Make a move.”
You felt your cheeks burning and your cowardice crawled up your throat.
“He’s not going to. And if you're not going to, I will.”
He let that threat hang in the air between you and as quickly as the blood had rushed to your face, you felt it leave.
You had absolutely no idea of what Bakugō would do, but you sure as shit did not want to find out. If the blond wanted something done, he did it – without concern for anyone else's dignity, self-confidence or ego.
Gods help you if he took matters into his own hands.
When you looked up next, people were packing up and Kirishima was dogging Bakugō's heels across the floor to the offices.
The blond looked like he was going to hit something as he headed towards you and you hastily shoved your things into your bag.
You were shutting down your computer when he reached your desk. The men were clearly halfway through a conversation. Or at least Red Riot was. Whether Dynamite was listening was debatable.
“I’m telling you, Bakubro, it’s awesome! We should try it some time!”
“Don’t have time, Shitty Hair,” his partner bit out. “Short Stuff, you like teriyaki, right?”
He looked at you deliberately.
You took the hint.
“I do,” you told them, smoothing your blouse.
“There,” the blond turned. “Take her. You can tell me if it’s worth it.”
Kirishima turned almost as red as his hair.
“But, dude!” he spluttered. “It’s kinda short notice –“
“Do you have anything planned tonight?” Bakugō demanded.
You shook your head. “Nope!” you squeaked out, trying not to let your nerves show.
The other hero floundered. “Don’t we have games night tonight?”
Your heart stopped pounding and started sinking. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.
Dynamite narrowed his eyes.
“Cancelled. Don’t you remember? Dunce Face got gastro from sub par combini shit.”
“He did?”
“YES.”
“I didn’t get a –“
“Go have dinner with Short Stuff, Shitty Hair!” Bakugo barked, glaring at him.
Kirishima’s mouth opened and shut like he’d turned into a koi fish, astounded at Katsuki’s rudeness.
“Bro!” he breathed, horrified.
You took the plunge.
Laying your hand on Kirishima’s forearm, you looked him dead in the eye.
“I’d really like to. Shall we?”
There was a long moment of silence while the tall man looked between you and Katsuki, still desperately unsure.
The blond stared at him pointedly and raised one eyebrow and this seemed to decide the course.
Kirishima took a deep breath, turned his megawatt smile upon you and offered his arm.
“We shall.”
You couldn’t stop the blush that rose in your cheeks and you slid your hand around his elbow. He was every bit the hero you knew he was as he escorted you to the elevator.
You both were very dignified and ignored Dynamite’s “Thank fuck” that followed you out.
***
The izakaya had great teriyaki, Kirishima wasn’t lying.
It was upstairs in a little hole in the wall and you’d both enjoyed laughing over silly work-related stuff while chowing down on good food.
Delicate flirting had happened over dinner, sharing food by feeding each other and warm looks over the tabletop.
After a few drinks though, you were a little braver and when Kirishima stood to pay the bill, his well-fitted pants and shirt reminded you of the reason for this delightful dance.
Maybe... maybe this could happen...
Kirishima’s hand was sent tingles through you as he escorted you to the top of the stairs and he led the way down, back to the street.
The third beer probably been a mistake though as your balance wasn’t up to snuff and you grabbed the handrail with a little squeak while the air around you spun.
The redhead immediately noticed and looked up at you, concerned.
“You okay? Dizzy?”
“Just a little vertigo,” you explained and smiled down at him.
A giggle escaped your lips as you took in the sight of him. He raised an amused eyebrow.
“What?”
“I’m taller than you,” you told him. “For once!”
He smiled at that too and climbed another stair so his nose was parallel to your chin.
Those big garnet eyes stared up into yours and you fell easily into them, moving inexorably towards the new intimacy the was blooming between you.
His lashes were so long, up close. And his smile was so devastating and his lips looked so soft and if you just –
Your chest heaved for breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding and Kirishima’s eyes flickered downwards involuntarily.
Oxygen became a scarce commodity again though when they snapped back up and locked on yours with much more heat and now he was moving forward too.
And your neck stretched down and his stretched up and –
“Excuse us,” came the polite voice of two ladies behind him on the stairs and oxygen came back, combining forces with embarrassment.
You both chuckled sheepishly and moved aside, looking anywhere but at each other.
As you were left alone on the stairwell, you lightly touched Kirishima’s elbow and he raised his arm to slide your fingers together.
“I... don’t know if you’d be interested,” he suggested hesitantly. “But my place is... not far from here...”
You drew a breath that was a little too shaky for your sense of dignity and you were sure your face was every possible shade of red.
But your smile couldn’t be taken as anything but enthusiastic consent and you muttered shyly,
“I’d like that.”
Your fingers stayed intertwined as he helped you down the stairs, leading you steadfastly until you exited out into the street. You both kept casting glances at each other while you walked, conversation ebbing into anticipation.
Kirishima’s building was modern, the doorman-slash-security guard was courteous, the entrance all clean lines and welcoming artworks.
The elevator ride was simultaneously slow and over too quickly, especially now that neither of you were raising you heads. Both of you just staring at the polished marble tiles and smiling secretly to yourself. And maybe each other.
The walk down the corridor was coated in tension and dripping with anticipation. Kirishima let go of your hand for the fist time in nearly half an hour so he could fumble with keys that now seemed too complicated for the locks he had used for years.
And the door clicking open echoed in the hallway like it knew something... something was going to happen.
The tall redhead stood aside to welcome you into his home and closed the door behind you.