"Seriously, Bakugo?" Kirishima leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand with a smirk. "You didn't have to yell at him like that." 
"Mind your own damn business," Bakugo muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Oh no, this is my business." Kirishima's grin softened, and he shook his head. "Look, man. It's obvious you like him."
"Shut up."
"C'mon, dude. You're not fooling anyone." Kirishima sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I've known you since middle school. You always used to talk about your childhood friend. You've been keeping that guy around for, what, years now? And don't act like it's because he's good at his job because we both know he isn't."
Bakugo shot him a glare, but Kirishima wasn't fazed. He leaned closer, voice low but firm. "You like him. Admit it."
"I don't—" Bakugo started slamming the table with his open palm, but Kirishima cut him off.
"You do," Kirishima said. "And it's not fair, Bakugo. You can't keep messing with him like this." In Kirishima's eyes, he felt bad for the guy. He wished Bakugo would either throw him out or confess. He knew what it was like to get led on for so long.
Bakugo scowled, drumming his fingers angrily against the table. "I'm not—"
"Yes, you are," Kirishima interrupted, his tone serious now. "You keep him close, you scold him for every little thing, and then you go and act like a jerk when he looks at you the wrong way." He sighed. "That poor guy is head over heels for you, and instead of telling him how you feel, you just what? Keep him around so you can yell at him?"
Bakugo clenched his jaw, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "He doesn't-"
"He does." Kirishima leaned forward again, his voice dropping to a gentle, knowing tone. "Look, man. If you're scared to admit it, that's fine. But you can't keep doing this to him. He deserves to know where you stand. You're not in middle school anymore. You're a grown man. And you're his boss, for crying out loud."
Bakugo let out a low growl, his fists tightening on the table. He hated how easily Kirishima could read him, hated how right he was. But most of all, he hated the way his heart twisted at the thought of Izuku walking out of his office just now, shoulders slumped, green eyes wide and hurt.
"So," Kirishima said with a grin, "when are you gonna stop being such a coward and tell him how you feel?" He elbowed him again like he was before. Bakugo glared at him, though it held none of the heat it usually did. He didn't answer. He wouldn't answer. Admitting it out loud felt like stepping off a cliff, and Katsuki Bakugo wasn't someone who jumped without knowing exactly where he'd land. Kirishima sighed and leaned back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head. "You know, you can only keep pretending for so long, man."
Bakugo didn't respond. He stared at the door where Izuku had just hurried out, his jaw tight, his heart heavier than he'd care to admit. He wasn't ready not yet. But Kirishima was right about one thing: he couldn't keep playing this game forever. 
He slapped the back of Kirishima's neck and quickly got back to business. However, in the back of his mind he still couldn't shake off the image of broccoli. 

Izuku POV:
After I bolted from the conference room, I made a beeline for my desk, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. I tried to catch my breath as I slid into my seat, gripping the edges of the desk to catch my breath. God, I'd really done it this time. "Kacchan". In front of Kirishima. The heat burned in my cheeks again, and I dropped my head into my hands, pressing my palms against my eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. I couldn't cry. I swallowed hard, ignoring the shame and focusing on getting through the day.