someone please help me with these titles oh my l o r d

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Kirishima

"Yo, Bakugou," Kirishima said as he sat up on his bed. "I think I'm gonna head to the art rooms. Wanna come?"

Bakugou's head did little more than swivel in his direction from where he laid across his bed. "Why?"

"Why what? Why am I inviting you or why am I going?"

"Why are you going?"

"Sometimes I go hang out over there during the weekends to practice painting and such, remember? The art teachers are pretty cool so they don't mind as long as I clean up after myself." Kirishima was already in the midst of pulling out a pair of socks as he spoke, though he didn't bother to change out of his sweats. "Whattaya say?"

To Kirishima's slight surprise, Bakugou sat up and muttered, "Why not? Got nothin' better to do."

Kirishima couldn't deny that one. It was nearly mid-afternoon and the two of them had barely gotten out of bed, let alone left the dorm room. They'd both been exhausted after staying up so late after the Halloween party the previous night and hadn't so much as even left to get breakfast; they'd just settled for untoasted pop tarts that Kirishima kept in a small stash of snacks he kept in the cabinet of his bedside table.

An inevitable (and very welcome) feeling of elation filled Kirishima up as the two of them sauntered across the relatively quiet campus toward the main school building. He really hadn't expected Bakugou to agree to join him even though the blonde had been hanging out with him and the others quite a bit recently. He knew Bakugou was the type who preferred to be alone and it would've made sense for him to want to stay in the room by himself, so it was a pleasant surprise to have him walking along beside Kirishima, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his sweats.

"Hang on, I'mma grab a snack," the blonde said as soon as they were in the school building where a couple of vending machines were against the wall to the left. When he finished getting what he wanted he turned and tossed a packet of Oreos straight at Kirishima, who promptly caught it.

"Oh, thanks, but you don't have to-"

"'S repayment for the pop tarts," Bakugou cut in.

"Hm." Kirishima felt himself smile. "'Kay. But you don't gotta repay me for stuff, alright?"

"Whatever."

Kirishima gratefully pocketed the snack before they kept walking.

Save for one or two staff members here and there, the building was void of people. Kirishima casually punched in the unlock code for the door to the main art room upon arrival and flipped the lights on as he stepped in.

"The fuck?" Bakugou mumbled around a mouthful of cheese crackers as he followed him in. "They gave you the code?"

"Yep. How else are we s'posed to get in?" responded the redhead.

"You some kinda teacher's pet?"

"Nah, man. Just a kid who likes art. I've spent a lot of time here so the art teachers trust me enough."

Though Bakugou's snort and muttering of the word 'nerd' was under his breath, Kirishima didn't fail to hear it. He chose to ignore it, though, with a bubble of amusement in his chest while he headed toward the back of the room where most of the supplies were.

"You wanna paint somethin'?" he asked, shuffling through the stack of unfinished canvases for the one he'd been working on the past couple weeks.

"No. I suck ass at painting."

"But you did my makeup so well yesterday," countered the redhead.

"Weren't you the one who said paint doesn't blend like makeup?"

Kirishima pulled his canvas from the stack. "Touché," he admitted. "I take it you're not in an art class, then."

"Nope. I'm doing all my elective shit in gym."

Well, that definitely explained the freaking abs Bakugou had-the ones that Kirishima had been finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes away from while they were getting dressed in the morning, seeing as Bakugou had picked up a habit of walking out of the bathroom after his shower only half dressed most of the time.

"Have you ever taken an art class?" Kirishima couldn't help asking as he retrieved a table top easel and set it up at his usual corner table where Bakugou plopped himself down on a stool beside him.

"I did in like, elementary school."

"That doesn't count. Everybody does that."

"Then no."

"And you don't just do art for fun, right?"

"Nope."

"Then of course you suck at painting, man."

"What the fuck is that s'posed to mean?"

"It means you've never had any practice," the redhead called from across the room again while he gathered the paints and brushes and such. "Sadly it's not really a matter of  'natural talent'. Like, you gotta practice and really wanna get better at something to actually get better, and it doesn't happen overnight like lots of people think." He set the things down in his space, feeling the blonde's eyes on him the whole time, and went back for the palette seal box with his name taped across its blue lid. "Can't tell you how annoying it can be when people are like 'I wish I was talented like you' or whatever."

Bakugou's face, Kirishima found as he glanced at him again while planting himself on his stool once his smock was tied around his waist, was twisted up in confusion. "Isn't that a compliment?"

"I mean, that's usually the intention, but not really in the eyes of the artist."

"That makes no damn sense."

"'S because for one, it doesn't really focus on the art or the artist and two, like I said, 's not really talent. For most artists it takes a shit ton of work to get where they are, and most times where they are isn't their end goal. Hell, 'm not really sure if most artists actually get to that kind of end goal 'cause once they reach one, they always set the bar higher for themselves."

"...I guess?"

Kirishima found himself grinning when he got up once more to put some music on over the stereo speakers in the room. "Hmm... lemme put it this way-if someone were to be like 'yo, I wish I had muscles like you,' what would you tell them?" he said as he planted himself back onto the stool and raked his hands through his hair to tie it back.

"I'd just tell them to go to the damn gym."

"Why'd you tell 'em that?"

"Why else? 'Cause the only way you build muscle is by working out."

"See? That's exactly how it is with art-like building muscle. You gotta work for it. Just wishin' for it won't get you anywhere."

"You sound like a friggen Kindergarten teacher with all this 'practice makes perfect' bullshit," Bakugou mumbled as he crinkled up the wrapper from his crackers. "Trash?"

"Near the door. And hey, practice makes perfect isn't a total lie, man."

"Then what about all that shit they tell you about nobody being perfect, huh?" the blonde was saying as he crossed the room.

"Hmm, I think perfection depends on how you define it. Otherwise I don't think it could even exist. Not even the simple idea of it."

Bakugou's arms were crossed loosely over his chest when he sat back down. "Now you sound like some kinda philosopher," he said.

"Oh man, I dunno if I should take that as a compliment or not," said the redhead, already in the process of mixing up his colors. "Philosophy is hard as shit."

"It's boring as shit, that's for sure," Bakugou agreed. "'S basically a buncha dead assholes from a long ass time ago trying to explain literally everything. It's stupid."

Kirishima's head was bobbing in a nod. "I couldn't agree more, my dude."

Their conversation carried seamlessly throughout the next little while as Kirishima multitasked in working on his painting-an aurora borealis design he'd been practicing to paint on the newest board in the works at home. Despite his claim not to be a good painter (or artist, for that matter), Bakugou provided noncommittal suggestions here and there that, most of the time, surprisingly helped. He would provide Googled photos of the borealis to help him along, too, when he needed them to explain what he was getting at.

The music filled up what little silence there happened to be between them, during instances where their conversation would fall quiet and Kirishima knew, despite his eyes remaining on his work, that Bakugou was watching him paint. It was a little unnerving, he had to admit, having the guy he was slowly but surely developing feelings for watching so closely over his shoulder. It made it tough to relax and get into the groove he normally found himself in while doing any kind of artwork. Even still, internally he was practically euphoric that Bakugou had elected to join him.

Eventually, Bakugou did turn his attention to his phone and slumped quietly over the table, resting his chin on his arm while the other was stretched out lazily in front of him with the phone resting in his hand.

"You don't have to stay if you're bored," Kirishima told him, albeit reluctantly.

"'M not. Your dumb friends are spamming me."

Kirishima's brush halted. "Huh?" he mumbled as he looked over.

"Guess they found me through you or somethin'," he said, showing the redhead the notifications that were popping up on his Instagram. Sure enough it was their usernames-mostly Mina's-showing up all the way down the screen. "And they're tagging me in those dumb pictures from last night."

"Oh yeah, guess you're right," Kirishima agreed. He set his brush down and leaned in closer to see when Bakugou started clicking on the photos. "Hey, y'know they're your friends now too, right?"

The blonde responded with nothing more than a click of his tongue while he scrolled right through Mina's page until he reached the first photo-one that Bakugou himself wasn't even in. As he scrolled up, there were several of just her with each of the others, one by one until the group photos had started. They'd acted out their costumes and, Kirishima had to admit, looked pretty damn ridiculous, but he also couldn't deny it had been fun.

It was over a dozen photos later before Bakugou started to show up. Kirishima keenly noticed how his expression had gradually gone from utter annoyance to tolerance to... actually sort of looking like he was enjoying himself. (Plus, even though he hadn't been in a costume, the redhead thought he looked better than any of them; the dude was seriously photogenic, though maybe that was just his own bias talking.)

Just as Kirishima was forming that thought, Bakugou huffed in disgust. "Ugh. I look like shit in these pictures."

Astonished, Kirishima's back straightened. "Dude! No you don't," he said automatically.

"Yes I fucking do. My eyeliner was smudged to hell so it looks like I haven't slept in like a thousand years."

An amused chortle bubbled up before Kirishima countered, "Your eyeliner is always smudged, though."

"Yeah, but in a specific way. Right here I look like more of a goddamn zombie than you."

Kirishima's next sentence slipped out before he could stop it. "C'mon man, you know you're an attractive dude. A little extra smudged eyeliner doesn't even matter." As soon as the words were out, Kirishima's nerves pricked with fear-fear that he'd accidentally said too much, or that what he said was too weird, that it'd push Bakugou away, make him think he was creepy or something terrible along those lines.

But the fear was for nothing, because Bakugou huffed and mumbled, "Thanks, I guess. But that shit does matter. To me, anyway."

The redhead let out his breath of relief in a question. "How come? D'you care that much about what other people think?"

"Fuck no. I care what I think."

Kirishima found himself laughing a little as he reached for his brush again, causing the blonde to turn and train his narrow-eyed gaze right on him. "What?" he muttered.

"Nothin'," Kirishima said with a shrug while he cleaned his brush. "That makes sense, I guess."

"That mean you do your hair all crazy to impress other people?" Bakugou sat up as Kirishima's brush touched his canvas again.

"Mm, nah. You have a point there. I do it 'cause I like it. Doesn't really bother me if anybody else does or not."

"I rest my case," mumbled the blonde before going back to his phone, again leaving the music to be the only thing filling the silence of the room.

Inevitably in the lack of conversation, Kirishima couldn't stop thinking about his almost slip-up. "C'mon, man, you know you're an attractive dude." The words repeated themselves over and over in his head until they started to sound weird and lose meaning. And damn, he knew he was probably thinking way too much into it-because he knew he liked Bakugou and had a constant underlying fear that he'd accidentally say or do the wrong thing too soon and ruin not only what chances he might have at getting closer to his roommate in that way, but their friendship as a whole and spend the rest of the year in a room full of tension because of it. Sure, he was brave enough to take small risks in hopes that it would go somewhere and knew that trying would be the only way he might get there, but he definitely wasn't ballsy enough to be so upfront so soon. He was seriously glad when Bakugou had taken it so lightly and hadn't thought too much into it himself.

And hey, thought the redhead, now he at least knows I think he's good looking.

A while later Kirishima was pulled out of his thoughts by a huff of amusement on the blonde's part. "Look," he said, angling his phone in Kirishima's direction where a short comic filled the screen.

{this photo is way too big to put here; you can find it at https://www.pinterest.com/pin/379217231117449421/ }

"Dude," Kirishima said with a sly grin, "should I be worried that you're hiding bodies in our closet?"

"Yeah," drawled the blonde, "I murder for fucking fun. Don't tell anybody."

"Eesh! Should I be worried for myself, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, idiot. Watch your back."

Kirishima was still grinning when Bakugou tilted the phone in his direction again, this time a smaller, less colorful photo occupying the screen.

"Oh shit, now I'm really scared," Kirishima said. "Maybe I should go to Mr. Aizawa with this..."

Bakugou promptly yanked the phone away, clicking his tongue as before, though with the relaxed state of his usually crumpled forehead, it was clear he wasn't taking the redhead seriously. "What, you some kinda snitch?" he mumbled.

"Yeah man, that's why I hide my skateboard in the closet, so I can rat other people out." Kirishima's smirk emphasized his sarcasm.

"Hmph. What a hypocrite." Bakugou needed no smirk to indicate sarcasm-his snide tone of voice did that for him.

And Kirishima was on cloud freaking nine that he and the blonde had reached the point where they could joke like this, where Bakugou was finally the one showing him stupid, amusing shit he found on the internet. He'd known Bakugou at the very least didn't mind being tagged and sent the memes Kirishima found during his regular scrolling, but until then he had never really been sure if he enjoyed them, even if just a little.

He didn't say much of anything about the ones he was using in an attempt at flirting, though Kirishima couldn't say he'd expected him to. He was doing his best to keep them subtle as possible (which meant he definitely wasn't sending any of the pick-up line memes his friends-especially Kaminari-had found... not yet, anyway) by sort of playing them off as jokes and sending them in between several regular, strictly not flirting memes.

"Annnnd, done," Kirishima said after adding the last finishing touch to his painting and sticking his paintbrush into the muddied cup of water. "Whattaya think?" he asked as Bakugou looked up.

"'S pretty cool," said the blonde.

Kirishima felt himself practically beam. "Thanks, man." He hopped off his stool and crossed the room to fish a sharpie out of the supply cabinet before heading back over and scribbling his signature in the bottom right corner of his painting. He could feel Bakugou's eyes on him the whole time just as he had before, and somehow there was something reassuring about it. Swiftly he snapped a photo of the painting and took a moment to post it to Instagram with his usual hashtags.

"I just gotta clean up and then we can go. But you can head off without me if you want..." He trailed off when Bakugou started collecting the bottles of paint.

"Where do these go?" he asked.

"Um, over in the cabinet," said the redhead, jerking his thumb in said direction. "But you don't have to help, Bakugou-"

"'S faster this way," was all he said, already halfway to the cabinet.

"Good point. Thank you."

The two worked together to the sound of the music to clean up the paint supplies. Kirishima left his painting on the rack to dry and wiped down the table, hung his smock, and shut off the music. He was sure to key in the lock code for the room as they were leaving, and then they headed down the hall.

Bakugou's eyes were on his phone as they shuffled along the quiet corridors of the building, the opposite hand simply resting in his pocket as it usually did when he walked. Just as Kirishima saw the blonde's thumb double tap the screen, a vibration came from his pocket, prompting him to slide out his own phone and see the little notification lit up across the center of the screen.

"fuck_off liked your post. 2m". With butterflies still in his stomach, Kirishima rode cloud nine all the way back to the dorm room.