Siri, How do I Get a Baby to Stop Crying?

Eijirou, You Did FUCKING WHAT?!

This story is not a stab at anyone who doesn't want children. Coming from the author who doesn't even want kids herself, I swear it's not.

Also, don't take this shit-fest too seriously, it's mostly experimental writing for me.

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It was 7:00 on the dot, Friday morning, when Kirishima asked Bakugou, "Do you think we'll get married?"

He looked up from his morning coffee and the article he had scanning off the daily newspaper. He let his gaze linger on Eijirou for a few seconds.

Something about the way he asked it was odd, unusual and different from his normal tone, but he wasn't nervous, in fact, he smiled wide as he waited for Bakugou's reply, eyes sparkling. Bakugou pursed his lips a bit and took another sip of his coffee. It tasted terrible, bitter and harsh, but at least it would wake him up; get the fog out of his tired eyes.

Would he and Eijirou ever get married? It was such a sudden thought, a weird and foreign topic to discuss over breakfast. Bakugou pondered for a moment, the silence he had created almost deafening. The cat shaped clock on the wall, the one Bakugou hated for its tackiness, but tolerated because Kirishima loved it so much, ticked like a time bomb.

"Sure." he muttered through sips of disgusting coffee.

Kirishima said nothing, just smiled and opened and closed his mouth a few times, balancing what to say next. Bakugou placed his ceramic mug on the table and watched him intently, waiting for him to spit out whatever it was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"Do you ever think we'll have kids?"

Bakugou raised a brow. Why was Kirishima suddenly asking those kinds of questions? Thoughts of the future, sappy stuff like marriage and kids? Kirishima wasn't the one to usually ponder over shit like that...or maybe he was, but never chose to do so out loud until that moment.

Bakugou tapped his foot on the floor boards. Bright morning sun illuminated their tiny kitchen table with gentle pale light.

"Of course not, we're both guys," he said simply, reaching over to steal a piece of strawberry jam-lathered toast from Kirishima's plate.

Kirishima huffed. "You know what I mean," but he rephrased his words just in case. "Do you ever think we'll adopt kids?"

"No," he confidently stated before tearing a large piece of sweet toast away and munching down on it. He talked through chews. "I hate kids. You know that, Eijirou."

"Yeah, but..."

"What's with you?"

Kirishima swallowed hard, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the table. Bakugou placed his toast down on his plate, less hungry than he was a minute ago. He wondered what had provoked these thoughts. It wouldn't take much, Kirishima was extremely openminded. His wide mind was sometimes blessing, it was easy to talk him into things, but it was also a curse because it was easy to talk him into things. Maybe the middle aged woman that he worked with spoon-feeding him tales, pictures, and other general marriage/kid crap.

If looks could kill, Kirishima wouldn't be dead, but rather locked up in jail because the one Bakugou was shooting the redhead was pure suspicion. He rubbed a finger across the plate before him, refusing to make eye contact with the blond.

"Have I ever told you that you're the best and I love you?"

"Okay, what the fuck did you do?"

It didn't take a genius to see that Kirishima had obviously done some shit that would probably piss Bakugou off, and was now trying to sweet talk his way out of trouble. Bakugou had figured all that out pretty quickly, but what really confused him was what all of this had to do with kids. Was that talk a distraction of a sort? Bakugou wouldn't usually peg Kirishima as the type to do something like that, but who knows? Not Bakugou, he was confused as shit.