Long Time Coming

White As Snow

He kicked his folding chair out, the snow clinging to his shoes - traveling up and into his sock.

"Ahh that's unpleasant." He muttered, falling into the chair, pulling his fleece lined snuggie tighter around him.

Kirishima sighed, leaning back, letting his head fall. His beanie bunched on the back of his neck. His hair poked into his skin. He felt simultaneously too cold and too warm. He'd skipped the shower after his sparring practice with Bakugou. It had been too hot, too intense. Quirkless practice always was more hands on and his emotions were running decidedly higher, hotter in the last few months. It had been all he could do to hide his erection from the class and bow out of the last match to deal with himself. The shame and embarrassment had been consuming; his orgasm had come quickly. After that he couldn't bear to be in the bathroom with Bakugou too. He groaned out loud into the cold night, burying his face in his hands; the memory of hot fists slamming against his chest, his face. The memory of his body colliding against Bakugou's forcing him into the ground without mercy; muscles twitching and grinding, demanding, unyielding until defeat had been admitted. The memory of the weirdly intense moment where they were both breathing too hard, looking too long, touching too much and then -

Kirishima tipped his chair back looking up at the stars. They were vivid and many on the crisp, cold night. He sighed a visible breath, closing his eyes, focusing; calming. Emptying his mind. Then the fantasies he had run away with earlier slipped back in. Thoughts of chapped, soft lips, fiery red eyes, aggressive, calloused, nimble hands. A chiseled, defiant jaw tight with angry domination. Kirishima clenched his teeth.

Breathing.

His stomach knotted. Ached. He can't be thinking this way about his friend. His fist tightened around the arm rest of his flimsy chair as that familiar heat and excitement unfurled low in his stomach at the memory of thighs brushing, fingers gripping with bruising force. Grunts and gasps as flesh collided in battle.

Breathing.

The door beside him slid open. The snow crunched beneath shoes.

"Fuck." The word slipped under his breath with more vehemence than he intended as he sat the chair back on all four legs. Annoyance tainted the moment, the arousal slipping away as he peeked at his visitor. "Jesus! BAKUGOU!"

The asshole in question was standing at the wall dividing them - inches away. He was glaring like the arrogant sack of shit he was. He looked cold despite the jackets, gloves, hat, scarf, earmuffs, and face mask. Kirishima had to fight his grin, still angry.

Still angry .

"The fuck is your nasty ass doing sitting outside in the snow after skipping your shower." Bakugou spat, his vehemence still biting despite his muffled voice and slightly slower speech. Like his tongue was just this side of numb. "You're going to get sick."

Kirishima shrugged. "I'm not feeling too hot-"

"Are you already sick?"

Something in the quick way Bakugou straightened, the change in his tone, the way his brow furrowed. It made Kirishima feel good. The blond was worried. He sunk a sharp tooth into his cheek, fighting a smile; failing.

"Don't fucking smile dipshit." Bakugou growled. "It's too cold. I'll meet you inside and we'll-"

"No." Kirishima looked at his feet, feeling nervous. "I just don't want to be inside right now. It feels too-"

"Whatever, asshole."

"It's not you." The redhead rolled his eyes. "It's everything. It's not being able to go home for Christmas, it's that last sparring session with you, it's being cooped up in the dorms still - again - always!" He stood, pacing, his arms waving as he moved frantically. "All we do is breathe, sleep, eat, piss Yuei and it's starting to get to me, man. It's getting in my head. At some point I realized I quit thinking in terms of myself and started thinking in terms the school. 'How will this make the school look good, how will this reflect on the school, how will this make my peers feel-' Sometimes I just don't even feel like me anymore. I used to go out and get in these -" he chuckled, pausing, looking out to the glittering field of snow before them. "The whole neighborhood would get together and we'd cook these giant meals and have a huge snowball fight." He turned to Bakugou who was looking out at the scenery as though attempting to picture the events described. "It was miserable. We would get soaking wet and cold. A few of us would end up crying. Someone always got a bloody nose or a scraped arm. One time we had a broken arm - wasn't me!" He put a hand over his heart, holding up the other at Bakugou's quick look. "But we would be so cold and tired when we would get home and changed. We would all meet up for hot chocolate and movies and food in warm, clean clothes. It was like a giant sleepover. It was so great and... I mean, it's not that I don't like everyone here, cuz I do!"