you and me, both
synopsis. mina and kirishima invite you to a night out. ‘it won’t be like last time!’ they said. you begrudgingly go. (part 1)
cw. gn!reader, gradstudent!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~23 yrs old), mina ashido x kirishima eijirou, fluff
word count. 1.9k words
You check your watch for the umpteenth time, which now reads 6:29 PM. It hasn’t even been a minute since you last checked it, yet it feels like you’ve been waiting here for hours.
The ramen shop you’re waiting in front of and agreed to hang out at is slowly getting packed with people, tired businessmen and students alike eager to eat the day’s worries away and head home full and satisfied.
Rocking yourself on your feet, you chance another peek at your watch. You stare at it as the minute hand finally strikes the number 12. With a heavy sigh, you look up to find Bakugou walking towards you, hands in his pockets, just in time.
Of all things, the last thing you need him to be is punctual.
You stare at each other in awkward silence before warily exchanging hello’s.
Before Bakugou could even bring up the elephant in the room, you quickly explain, “I think everyone else is just running late.”
He nods silently, and in three strides, arrives at the spot to your left, all the while sparing a respectable distance between the two of you.
Clearing your throat, you look around at everything else but him. The ramen shop you chose as a group called Kikanbo is known for its signature ‘devil’ ramen—devil because of its (allegedly, hot and numbing) spiciness.
You were initially against it, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of Mina and Kirishima’s Pro Hero friends, but ultimately decided to go with the flow. The last thing you needed was for them to tease you about being self-conscious around Bakugou. Which you aren’t.
Suddenly, it dawns on you how suspiciously couple-looking you’re coming off right now. Giving Bakugou a quick once-over, he’s dressed in black joggers and a grey crewneck sweater, insulated by a thick, long coat. You internally sigh in relief at the sight of his baseball cap, which should shield his identity from prying eyes.
Though, you doubt his bulging muscles and piercing crimson eyes do much in terms of keeping a low profile.
While looking him up and down, he catches your eye. Embarrassed, you blurt out: “I’m gonna call Mina.”
Desperate to get away from his immediate radius, you don’t even wait for his acknowledgment before stepping away into a quiet corner. The phone rings three times before you’re greeted with a chirpy (too chirpy, if you were to be honest right now), sing-song voice.
“Hi, Y/N! What’s up?”
Twelve years of friendship and you still can’t believe this girl, “Mina? Where the fuck are you?! And everyone else?”
She has the nerve to guffaw, “Like I said, it won’t be like last time anymore! Tonight, it’s only gonna be you and—drum roll, please,” in the background, you hear someone—Kirishima, probably—imitating a drum, “Bakugou!”
Fuck. You can’t help but whimper, “You have to be kidding me.”
“Sorry, Y/N. We figured this is the only way we can get you guys to spend time together outside of just texting. By the way, you guys sure are going at a snail’s pace, huh?”
You can feel the blood rush to your face, “What? How’d you even—”
“Bye, bestie!” she cuts you off, “Have fun!”
“Be safe, bro!” Kirishima adds before she hangs up, leaving you slack-jawed and your heart going at 150 beats per minute.
When you turn back, you see Bakugou leaning with his back against the wall, a smirk decorating his features. What’s he all fucking smug about?
You reluctantly walk towards him, waving your phone for emphasis, “Did you know about this?”
“No,” the smirk has now been replaced with a subdued scowl, “but I put two and two together on the way here.”
And just like that, he drops the conversation. He simply makes his way to the entrance and you follow suit, forced to deal with all the implications by yourself.
Just like the dinner from two weeks ago, it turns out that hanging out with Bakugou isn’t so bad after all.
After ruefully accepting the fact that you both got absolutely betrayed and stood up by your best friends, you entered the ramen shop and got seated on the stools facing the chefs. You ended up going for the regular level spices, or futsu futsu, while Bakugou went all in and ordered the devil ramen or oni mashi.
He barked a laugh at how your eyes bugged out the moment you saw how red his broth is. Instead of challenging you to a spice-off, though, he simply offered you the first sip (which stunned you—you didn’t expect him to make such a courteous gesture). Grateful, you took his offer.
You shouldn’t have, though.
You ended up choking so hard, alarming everyone in the restaurant, and Bakugou had to keep in his snort (that was surely gonna be loud and attract even more attention) in favor of getting you some milk to wash it off.
Once you recovered, you went on to eat your dinner, talking about the kinds of things you’ve conversed about over daily texts. Real-life conversation with Bakugou, to your pleasant surprise, is easy and free-flowing.
Contrary to how he’s depicted in media and your first impression of him from that run-in in the middle of your commute home from university, Bakugou is thoughtful and considerate. Sometimes brash, yes, but never mean.
He also seems to be genuinely interested in what you have to say, mindful of shifting the conversation from revolving around his hero work to asking about how’s post-grad these days, or if there’s anything eventful that happened in Manual’s agency earlier, seeing as how’s today’s a Saturday, the day on which you work part-time as admin staff.
You couldn’t school the surprised expression on your face fast enough at his remembering, and a small, somewhat self-satisfied smile took over his lips at your reaction. You probably, maybe, could’ve died a happy person then and there, but you kept yourself in check.
Soon after the bowls were clean of delicious ramen and bills were paid, you then headed out and decided to walk in the cool night breeze, with Bakugou taking the lead.
Which is how you wound up here, in a somewhat populated park that you’ve never heard of, sitting on the bench overlooking the view and in comfortable silence.
“So,” you start, admiring the scenery (first; second, avoiding eye contact), “do you usually go here?”
He grunts in response, “Yeah. Though I usually stroll around alone, instead of…” he gestures awkwardly toward your direction.
You struggle to contain your chuckle. How can he be so domineering in the field yet so bunglesome when talking to you? It’s endearing, to say the least.
“But you have brought some over here, have you?” you look around again, inspecting the greenery, the stone infrastructure, the lights. “This place is so beautiful.”
“I have,” he starts, “I think I’ve jogged with Dunce-face and Bug Eyes here once.”
You snort at the nicknames he calls his friends, “Dunce-face? Are you referring to Kaminari when he—”
He smirks, “Yep.”
You can’t help but laugh out loud, and he joins in with a snicker.
“But wait,” you look at him, “I meant have you brought over a girl over here before?”
You mentally slap yourself for uttering the question before thinking it through, undertones and all. Bakugou’s eyes widen a bit, but his face remains controlled. If he’s masking his knee-jerk reaction, you’re thankful for it.
“I mean,” you peer amongst the people who are enjoying the night air with you, “Most of the people here are in pairs—couples, because of how romantic the place is at night, with all the light fixtures and all.” You shrug, “I’m sure any girl would appreciate being brought here.”
You sure as hell are hoping you’re coming off more as the ‘helpful-friend-giving-some-well-meaning-advice’ than the ‘jealous-bitch-who’s-crazy-over-past-girls’.
He huffs, and you’re starting to think you’ve overstepped his boundaries when he cuts off your train of thought. Hell—railroads you and leaves your mind embarrassingly blank.
“Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever been on a date. At least,” he snorts, “the one-on-one kind.”
Suddenly, a million questions start racing through your mind.
He’s considering this a date? Did he consider the fiasco from last time a double date? This is his first? What?! How?! Why did he bring you here, anyway? Does he think of you in that way…? How can he be so bashful yet so straightforward at the same time? How the fuck is he so cute?
All these very important (some outright silly) questions, but the one you pipe up with is: “But back then—you agreed when I said you had a lot of experience—how?”
“I grunted, dumbass. There’s a difference. I wasn’t about to tell ya how inexperienced I was in this sort of thing when you were hyping me up like no other.”
“Huh.”
He side-eyes you, “From the looks of it, I’d say you’re the one who’s had far more experience.”
You’re too embarrassed to admit the truth, and too dizzy from the implications of his statements, but you figured you owed him at least your honesty. Looking down at your clasped hands, you mumble under your breath, “This is actually my first time, too.”
Silence falls upon the two of you, and unlike earlier, it’s filled with budding anticipation rather than comfort. You finally will yourself to look up, only to see him red. Red all over—neck, ears, and face.
Redder than when he slurped down that monstrous broth from earlier.
Then it hits you.
What Mina said was…real.
She sure as hell omits some truths, concerningly more often than not, but she never lies to you.
You can’t help but let out a soft laugh, and he turns away at the sound, perhaps in embarrassment.
You smile, “For the record, I’m glad you’re my first.”
At that, he abruptly stands up, and for a second you’re thinking you ruined the moment by saying that, but you don’t get to wish for the ground to swallow you up whole because Bakugou looks back at you with a fierce determination in his eyes that makes your mind go hazy.
“Come on,” he holds out his hand, “I wanna make sure this is the best fucking first date you’re ever gonna have.”
Bonus:
(as he’s walking you home from the park)
“Wait, so am I the first person you’ve been texting, too?”
“Yes. Now quit yapping about this ‘first’ shit or I’ll make you.”
You laugh good-naturedly, “But you’re so good at it! The pacing, the withholding of information to keep them wanting more—I was convinced you’ve done this with a million other people.”
He sighs in what you think is fake exasperation, as his cheeks are tinted with a faint red, “For the billionth time, you’re my first. And,” he looks away, “I had Shitty-hair help me out a bit.”
Normally, you’d extinguish any and all species of butterflies in your stomach brought to existence by a boy because you can’t afford to get distracted right now.
But, today isn’t normal.
You, instead, let the grin that’s been fighting to take over your face the entire evening finally win over. You can’t help it—hearing that from anyone—especially Bakugou, makes you happy.
You continue walking in comfortable silence until he’s the one to break it.
“So,” he starts and you don’t even have to look at him to know there’s a smirk adorning his goddamn handsome face, “all sorts of company, huh?”
“Shut up.”
tagging. @wolfunderthethree @bakugo-dee @poemzcheng @fallingmoon02 @eksd @niiine @gold24fish @animehoe666 @distinguishedlight
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