Despite not being born with a huge cock, Bakugou Katsuki more than makes up for it with his award winning dumpster fire of a personality. And if that's not enough, at 27 he's already won World's Shittiest Virgin award every single year he's been alive.

He's fine. Totally fine.

He LIKES being alone and miserable thank you very much. He's so Good at it too.

Just him and his tiny peepee against the world. He doesn't Need anyone!

Really, he's fine.

So fine.

Totally okay.

Okay, so maaybe when he's all wrapped up in bed, staring at his pathetically void of notifications phone in the middle of the night wide awake thinking about how tired he is of sleeping alone because he's so fucking suffocatingly lonely he could die, that he's a /little/ bit sad.

But just a LITTLE.

Being sad is for bitches and Bakugou Katsuki ain't no fucking bitch.

Alright alright. He's kind of a bitch.

Fuck.

He's a LOT of a bitch.

But look it's NOT HIS FAULT OKAY THAT EVERYONE ON THE PLANET SUCKS. SO WHAT IF HES RUDE, THEY PROBABLY DESERVE IT.

And typically, he has zero regrets in regards to how he treats people. If someone fucks up his order, why isn't he allowed to make them cry? Maybe next time they'll know that when he says no fucking pickles, he MEANS NO PICKLES. Its not fucking hard??

And usually he would say that he's not to blame for others being unable to handle some simple facts.

But sometimes, maybe even he agrees he goes too far.

He hates to think about literally anyone other than himself, but tonight as he lays in bed with his eyes trained on the ceiling fan, he maybe perhaps has some thoughts about the loser he sort of admittedly might have been....not the greatest to today.

To be fair he was already having a bad day and was in zero fucking mood for conversation. His birthday was in two days meaning the shiny WSV trophy was basically already fucking his, so you know, SUPER.

And because of his upcoming 28 years in a row virginity streak, his witch of a mother had decided to grace him with her trash voice all to lovingly remind him of that fact.

"Birthday plans?" She had asked through the phone he regretted answering.

"Oh yeah, fucking loads," he had replied, fingers crossed hoping she wouldn't hear his lie.

Obviously, that didn't work out since the bitch burst out laughing and told him when to show up for dinner.

So after that delightful conversation cementing the plans of another year of him sitting in a shitty booth in some shitty restaurant across from his shitty parents, well, let's just say he was in a mood.

Can you blame him?

And honestly, he thought he was pretty fucking clear how he felt when he just happened to stomp his way into that stupid ass coffee shop.

But some people we're just fucking stupid apparently.

Bakugo huffs at the memory, pulling his covers up over his head, hoping death or maybe sleep will take him.

After a few minutes of waiting, awake and still alive, Bakugou groans as rips the blankets of his head. His brain still thinking, thinking, thinking of...

He flips over quick and starts to punch his pillows.

He doesn't WANT to be thinking of some stupid extra. He doesn't want to CARE about some stupid asshole he doesn't fucking know but his brain is relentless, conjuring up image after image of that shitty haired bastard.

He just wanted a cup of coffee. Something strong and bitter to chase away the bad taste his mother left in his mouth.

And maybe he wanted to sip his coffee and mope in the corner too. He's allowed, it's a free fucking country is it not?

And that's exactly what he had planned to do.

And then one barista, with some dumb wild ass bright red fucking hair, stupid tattoos running all down his arms and piercings all over his stupid face had to open their fucking mouth and have the audacity to fucking smile at him.

Frankly, Bakugou really shouldn't have been held responsible. After all, that smile basically sucker punched him the goddamn chest so it was his legal right to protect himself.

The smile itself wasn't anything spectacular probably. Two rows of teeth, upturned lips; the basic bullshit that any asshole off the street can do. That wasn't what hit Bakugou, no. It was the pure, unfiltered, unexpected and frankly undeserved genuineness that fucked him up.

No one, probably not even his own mother had ever looked at him so kindly before. The look about shattered his heart, pasted it back together and wrapped it all up with a bow before lodging it down his throat, making him nearly choke on the swell of emotions blooming through him.

How just one slightly crooked smile could nearly bring him to his damn knees, Bakugou Katsuki didn't know.

And honestly, he didn't care to fucking find out.

It may have taken him a second, shaken as he was, but he didn't know this piece of shit from any other idiot, so even though this "Kirishima" (according to his nametag), made his bits tingle and his heart race, Bakugou didn't owe him a damn thing. Including special treatment.

Kirishima, would get his usual.

"The fuck are you smiling at asshole?" Bakugou asked in way of a greeting.

Kirishima's smile faltered.

Bakugou was extra miffed to discover that seeing him so do, brought up an ugly queasy feeling in his gut.

"Ah," Kirishima said, his voice softer than Bakugou expected judging by his exterior. "Sorry, I forget my teeth are sort of scary. No smiles for you then, alright?" He makes a little show of trying to hide his teeth behind his full looking lips.

They shine a little under the light of the florescent and Bakugou thinks maybe he is wearing some kind of chapstick. He wonders what flavor it could be before he immediately wants to punch himself in the tits. Who gives a shit what his strangers lips taste like? Not fucking him.

Bakugou glares at him, upset for making him think about stupid things and said, "Quit talking to me."

The barista blinked at him, bringing a hand, with tattoos running down to his knuckles up to his chin and scratches. "Okay...but how will I take your order then?"

Bakugou wished internally, as he had many times before but never quite so violently, for the earth to suddenly rip open and swallow him whole.

"Y-Y-You fucking know what I mean!" Bakugou stuttered with all the grace of a deflating balloon.

To his enragement, the barista seemed to hold back a laugh before coughing a bit. Probably an effort to hide what he almost dared to do.

"Sir," Kirishima said, sounding calm and steady, the exact opposite of one Bakugou Katsuki. "Will you please allow me to take your order? Promise after that I won't say a word to you."

The bastard was laughing at him. Mocking him.

It was easy to see now that Bakugou was really looking. The glint of bullshittery dancing along the edge of his lopsided grin and in the curve of his arched pierced brow.

Bakugou wanted to smash his face in. With either his fist or his lips, he wasn't quite sure. All he knew is he wanted to ruin this dickhead.

"Kirishima, is it?" Bakugou sneered, making sure his lip curled just enough to rival the barista's perfectly shaped brow. "Why don't you just shut the fuck up and take my goddamn order then, huh?"

"That's literally what I'm trying to do....?"

He tapered off, seemingly waiting for Bakugou to give up his own name.

Like hell he would.

"Fine," Bakugou snapped through gritted teeth. "Coffee. Black."

Before he could find the price, Kirishima immediately turned his back on him and went to work.

Apparently, he really wasn't going to say another word.

Which, okay, Bakugou SHOULDN'T be annoyed by it because he literally asked for it, but still. Fuck him.

Bakugou made it a point not to watch Kirishima work, staring anywhere and everywhere that wasn't him as he impatiently thrummed his finger nails of the coffee bars cool marble top.

It wasn't before long that Kirishima was back and with a grin, closer to the one he saw for the first time, sliding a clear plastic cup over to him filled with dark liquid.

With a scowl, Bakugou snatches it from him and immediately brings the straw up to his lips (which hi Kirishima you IDIOT, he didn't NEED a straw) hoping to intimate him by guzzling hot coffee without a wince.

Only the coffee wasn't boiling hot like be asked, it was iced. The unexpectedness of it all makes him nearly choke on it.

"The shit is this fucking cold for?! And is that sugar in here?! What part of black coffee do you not fucking understand, dumbass?!"

This was better. Him yelling at incompetent workers was a lot easier to deal with instead of the insufferable feelings of wondering why he almost didn't want to be mean to Kirishima in the first place.

Yes, this was better. He couldn't /wait/ for this dick to talk his way out.

Instead, Kirishima quirked that damn pierced eyebrow at him for a second time.

Oh right, he promised he wouldn't talk after.

"You can fucking answer me!"

Slowly, Kirishima leans over the counter, his hands palming the marble top as his face inches closer to Bakugou's.

"One, you didn't specify the temperature /sir/ but with an attitude like yours I assumed you needed to cool the fuck down."

Bakugou was so taken aback by his proximity and the total lack of fear in his voice paired up with the absolute fire in his eyes they for once, he stayed absolutely silent.

"Two I added sugar because I can tell you are one of those guys that like to fake their machoman bullshit thinking it's manly or some other made up reason to deny yourself some damn sweetness and also because I thought maybe your assholism was due to a low blood sugar."

Bakugou could only stand there.

"Now that we are through here, please leave. I do not enjoy impolite people and I enjoy even less when that person makes me feel like I need to be rude back."

Kirishima straightens up, crossing his thick inked arms. "Don't worry about your money, it's on the house. Goodbye."

The way Kirishima is looking at him is nothing like the way he originally smiled at him when he first walked in. There was no kindness around his mouth, nothing sweet in his eyes.

He was looking at Bakugou like the trash he was.

Which would be fine, it would be. He deserved it and he fucking understood it.

Only, as he looked up into those wide eyes there wasn't just hate in there. There was pity.

It made his stomach churn.

With a soft sigh, Kirishima suddenly runs his fingers through his hair before fisting the strands in obvious frustration.

"Ah shit," he groans, closing his eyes as he pulls. When he looks back at Bakugou, there's more of that pity.

"I'm sorry for being rude okay! I really really hate it. I didn't want to hurt you. I Just...you looked like you were having a bad day, so I tried to be nice and then you were so mean and like bro what am I suppos—"

Bakugou cuts him off my throwing his iced coffee into his face.

"Fuck you," Bakugou spits before turning on his heel and practically running out the door.

He can deal with assholes, he can deal with dickheads and pricks and scumbags and any other type of garbage person in the world.

But sweet boys with dumb hair, tattoos and piercings, soft eyes and heartbreaking genuine smiles?

How in the fuck can he deal with that?

So he didn't.

He couldn't.

He didn't know HOW.

"Fucking asshole," Bakugou mumbles as he looks back up at his ceiling fan, bringing himself back to the present. He's not sure who he means. Himself or Kirishima probably a little of both.

There's an uneasy, unfamiliar feeling that has been crawling through his blood since the incident at the coffee shop.

Goo/gle said it was shame, but what the fuck does the internet actually fucking know.

He sighs again, trying unsuccessfully to get Kirishima's face out of his mind.

According to the dumb internet, the way to get rid of his gross feeling would be to...ugh, APOLOGIZE, which frankly he would rather eat a shit covered rat than do that.

But....

Kirishima's smile flashed in his mind for the millionth time.

GODDAMNIT.

OKAY.

FINE.

Rolling over, Bakugou pulled the blanket up to his face and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his stupid brain to shut off and relax now that he finally made his dumbass decision.

For the first time in his useless life, Bakugou Katsuki was going to apologize.

tbc

The morning came far too soon as it does when one is avoiding something soul crushingly embarrassing.

It just be that way sometimes.

Still, no matter the terribleness looming in Bakugou Katsuki's bleak horizon, he was determined to see his plans through, however idiotic they may be.

So, with the same joyless attitude he exudes every day he wakes up alive, Bakugou goes through his typical morning ritual, even with the jittery nervousness coursing though his veins.

With his best efforts, he tries hard not to think about Kirishima and what he's going to say.

His best efforts are incredibly shit though because Kirishima's presence is so loud in his mind, it feels like the inked bastard is standing in his goddamn bedroom.

Kirishima is with him as he takes his morning piss (mocking his pathetically petite member of course. Thanks brain!), when he cusses at himself in the mirror, when he eats his breakfast, when he takes a shower (Brain Kirishima laughs at his dick again) and when he gets dressed.

Despite Bakugou's attempt to ignore the images (and words) his brain produces, he has to give in when he is about to leave his house.

What in the fuck was he going to say to him?

Brain Kirishima just flips him off when Bakugou presses him for an answer.

A quick scroll through the internet provides a sort of guideline; An idiots guide to surefast forgiveness if you will, and because he's already figured that he's got /maybe/ a snowballs chance in hell anyway, Bakugou decides he should take all the help he can get.

He leaves his house, wondering only briefly it'll be the last time he sees it (Kirishima did look pretty stacked from what he remembers) but realizes with a shrug he isn't particularly bothered by the idea of dying, or maybe it was the thought of Kirishima being the one to do it.

Either way, when he hops into his car and pulls out of the driveway, he doesn't look back.

According to the internet, flowers apparently mean something or some shit when you are saying sorry and even though it's embarassing as all fuck, he wants to stack his odds. Plus flowers are good for funerals. It'll save his mom some costs.

The flower shop he goes to looks about as stupid as he thought it would, and the person running it looks somehow even /more/ stupid looking. The freckled fuck looks like he's trying to turn into one of the million ferns he's watering when Bakugou walks in.

"Hi," he says as soon as he notices Bakugou, "h-how can I help you?"

For zero reason, he has an urge to pour the watering can in the shop owners hand all over his head.

He resists, but only barely.

"Flowers."

Treehead just blinks at him before scrunching up his face. Either he thinking or he's about to take a shit, either way Bakugou doesn't want to really find out.

"Nice ones, for me to say sorry with."

His expression is smoothed into a huge grin. It's disgusting.

"Oh! We have so many wonderful beautiful options! What kind are you thinking of? I have roses of course which always seem to be the most popular with couples even though I personally think calla lilies or even certain types of orchids are much more romantic loo—"

"FUCKING RED!"

The babbling bastard seems frozen.

"I don't care what kind, who the fuck likes them or any other bullshit you want to share. Just give me something red."

The Kirishima in his brain, the subconscious color inspiration frowns at him.

"Please," he tacts on, hoping to appease.

"S-s-sure thing, this way."

Despite his assumption that the store owner was a fucking idiot, to Bakugou's begrudging delight, the guy ends up putting together something pretty fucking badass.

Though having zero experience with flower buying of any kind, Bakugou knows his bouquet is the best that's ever been made. Surrounded by tissue paper and cellophane is an assortment of flowers that Bakugou couldn't name to save his life all in varying shades of red.

He didn't even know that this many fucking flowers existed. But he's glad for it, because it looks impressive as hell and even if it costed way too much for a few goddamn plants, he hopes that it'll do well to help him out in the Kirishima department.

The drive to the coffee shop is unfortunately a short one and by the time he's standing in front of it, his palms are already slick and the flowers keep slipping as it forces them to stay upright.

Fuck he can't do this.

No, fuck he CAN do this.

He turns around.

There's no fucking way in hell he can go in there and give fucking flowers to a stranger he threw coffee at. This is so dumb. He's so dumb. Why in the FUCK did he think this was a good ide—

"Holy shit, you're the prick from yesterday!"

There, standing in front of him just as beautiful as his stupid brain imagined, was Kirishima.

He'd never wanted to die so badly before.

tbc