Chapter Text
Katsuki, ever the mother hen, refuses to leave Eijirou’s side as he’s loaded onto a stretcher, even after the paramedics informed him that only family was allowed to ride in the ambulance to the hospital with Eijirou. The knuckles wrapped around the railing of Eijirou’s stretcher turn white with how tightly Katsuki is gripping it, as if he believes that Eijirou will disappear if he doesn’t dig his claws in and refuse to release him, even to people willing to help him. Even as he makes a quick call to one of his sidekicks to finish his and Eijirou’s patrol, Katsuki keeps glancing over at Eijirou with a look in his eye that Eijirou can’t seem to parse out.
“Sir, we need you to take a step back, so we can do our job,” one of the paramedics tells Katsuki, shooing him away with a flutter of her hands.
“Do you have any idea who the fuck I am?” Katsuki barks, narrowing his eyes at the paramedics as they wheel Eijirou away to the ambulance. Blatantly ignoring the paramedics’ request, Katsuki trots next to the stretcher, hand still clutching onto the railing for dear life. Eijirou idly wonders if Katsuki would rather grasp his forearm, feel the way his pulse thrums under his broken skin.
It’s becoming clearer and clearer that Katsuki is worried, though he’d never admit it, and Eijirou is touched, of course, the very idea making his heart stutter in his chest, but mostly, he wants to tease the other for what a softie he is. “I actually have no idea who this man is, get him away from me,” Eijirou stage-whispers to the paramedic, whose eyes widen in panic.
“Kirishima!” Katsuki growls, drawing his lips back in a snarl. “I can fucking fire you, asshole!”
Smirk pulling at his lips, Eijirou covers his mouth with his hand as he speaks directly to the paramedic again, “He wouldn’t though; he’d be lost without me.”
“I don’t know if you’ve kept up with the goddamn news, but I’m pretty sure I was the number two hero before you ever met me.” After they load Eijirou into the ambulance on the stretcher—something he vehemently insisted was not necessary, both because he feels fine besides a bout of pain and because he is still able to walk unassisted—Katsuki jumps into the ambulance beside him, shooting a glare fierce enough that it makes the paramedics relent with weary sighs.
“Eijirou,” he says once Katsuki is settled in and the ambulance pulls away from the scene of the fight.
“What?"
“Eijirou. If I get to call you Katsuki, then you get to call me Eijirou. Not Shitty Hair, not Kirishima. Eijirou.”
“Not gonna happen,” Katsuki scoffs, kicking his feet up to settle in Eijirou’s lap and tucking his arms behind his head. If Eijirou has learned anything about Katsuki in the time they’ve worked together, he knows that this is a front he’s putting up. Where his hands are brushing golden strands of hair at the nape of his neck, they’re trembling slightly. There’s a jittery movement to his feet where they rest against Eijirou’s shins, like he needs an outlet for his nerves.
Eijirou wraps a hand still coated in his own blood around Katsuki’s leg, just above his ankle. He glides his thumb soothingly back and forth over the thick fabric of his costume pants. “I’m okay, Katsuki. Really. You don’t need to worry, okay? I’m alright.”
Katsuki wilts, imperceptible to anyone else, but as obvious to Eijirou as a smack to the face. “But you almost weren’t,” he mutters, casting his gaze away from Eijirou. “And it would’ve been my fault because you— fuck —” Katsuki scrubs the heels of his hands into his eyes as his jaw flexes, frustrated groan hissing from him.
Eijirou reaches over to pry his hands away from his face, squeezing his wrists gently. “Hey, we’re partners, right? Like I said earlier, I have your back and I know you have mine. I would make the same decision every damn time. No regrets. I’m still standing and so are you. That’s what matters.” He sighs. “If you start blaming yourself every time I get hurt, I’ll quit.” Katsuki’s eyes widen just a fraction, the faintest hint of fear in his carmine irises. It pains Eijirou to threaten this, just as it pains Katsuki to hear it, but it’s necessary. “I mean it, I will. If you can’t trust me to make my own decisions, trust me to do the job that you’ve trained me for, then this partnership won’t work. I’m the defense, so let me defend you.”
Katsuki’s slightly red-rimmed eyes narrow, but he nods once, resolute. “Okay… Eijirou.” Those eyes skip down to where Eijirou is still holding him, expression unreadable, and Eijirou, as if being piloted by an outside force, brings Katsuki’s left wrist to his lips to press a quick kiss to his pulse point before letting them drop. A thousand emotions flit over Katsuki’s face before a warm blush paints its way across the bridge of his nose and along his cheekbones.
It takes a moment for Eijirou to process just what he’s done, but once it hits him, he knows his face breaks out in a similar color as he flashes a sheepish smile. If he hasn’t been obvious enough already, then he’s absolutely sure that Katsuki knows about his little crush now. He clears his throat harshly, then turns away from Katsuki before he can say or do anything more damning to start chatting with the paramedic that tried to turn away the Bakugou Katsuki (and ultimately failing, but that’s neither here nor there.)
He can feel Katsuki’s gaze on the back of his head like a brand, but he resolutely keeps his attention on the paramedic as she tries to stem his bleeding until they pull into the hospital.
“It was nice to meet your other friends! I've been feeling a bit like your mistress,” Eijirou hums, pointedly not meeting Katsuki's eyes as he looks around the minimally decorated hospital room he's been checked into temporarily.
Katsuki chokes on the water he's drinking, making Eijirou turn to beat a hand against Katsuki's back. “What,” he finally croaks after a moment, then clears his throat forcefully. “What the fuck?”
“Think about it!” Eijirou insists, pressing his lips together to stifle the laugh threatening to spring from his mouth. “Everything has been so hush-hush with my training and our partnership—makes a guy feel like we're sneaking around behind your wife's back or something!” He pauses and taps his chin with his finger. “Kinda sexy, honestly.”
“You are an idiot.” Eijirou doesn't miss how Katsuki turns his head to hide the small smile pulling at his lips.
A matching grin spreads across Eijirou's face, feeling triumphant like every time he makes Katsuki smile. “You didn't disagree!”
Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Having a mistress implies that I'd ever in a million damn years have a wife.”
“Aw, Katsuki,” he settles a hand on Katsuki's shoulder and shoots him a faux sympathetic look, “I'm sure there's some unlucky woman out there who'd marry you.”
The unimpressed look on Katsuki’s face makes the restrained laugh burst from Eijirou's mouth, unable to keep up the joke. “You caught me, I am in the market for a beard. Maybe your mother could help me out,” Katsuki deadpans.
Eijirou blinks once, twice. Then, he bursts into raucous laughter despite the pain in his ribs. “Holy shit, the Bakugou Katsuki just made a yo mama joke. No one will ever believe me.”
“Hard to tell people when you're dead,” Katsuki says.
Grinning, Eijirou waves him off. “It's just a few cracks in my skin, Katsuki. I'm not on my deathbed.”
“I can change that.” Katsuki snatches the pillow from behind Eijirou's head and lunges at Eijirou to smother him with it as Eijirou giggles uncontrollably.
“Katsuki!” Eijirou gasps, half-heartedly struggling against the fabric pressed over his face. He pushes his hands out against Katsuki's toned forearms, his firm chest, his sneering face.
“Give up, Eijirou,” Katsuki barks, the ghost of a laugh on his breath. “It's over. Go into the light, bastard.”
Weight bears down on top of Eijirou's mildly sore body, knees bracketing his thighs as Katsuki settles in Eijirou's lap. With his new advantageous position, Katsuki’s able to suffocate Eijirou with more force.
With the continuous laughter spilling from Eijirou, the pillow stuffed over his mouth and nose, and the previous (considerable) blood loss, Eijirou starts to get a bit light-headed, so he goes completely limp underneath Katsuki, giving up and playing dead.
“Eijirou?” Katsuki says, a hint of concern lacing his voice. When he pulls the pillow away, Eijirou sticks his tongue out of his mouth in an exaggerated look of death, playing up his passing from this life into the next. Katsuki groans, then pushes his hand into Eijirou’s now cackling face. “Fuck, don’t do that. I was—” Worried, Eijirou mentally fills in for him, knowing the other would never admit such weakness.
“You make an attempt on my life, then get scared when I’m dead?” Eijirou tuts. “You really are a funny guy, Katsuki.”
“Like I’d be scared to be rid of your irritating ass,” Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms as he sits back on his haunches.
Humming, Eijirou’s hands find a home on Katsuki’s powerful thighs without his permission, resting there as if that's where they've always belonged. “Nah, I think you like my ass.” He grins. “And you tolerate the rest of me, too.”
Before he can even laugh at his own joke, he's being beat with the pillow as Katsuki bellows, “Don't be fucking gross!” Cackling, Eijirou digs his fingers into the pillow and yanks it away from Katsuki to toss it aside, throwing Katsuki off-balance enough to make him fall forward. Now, Katsuki's arms frame Eijirou's head, the closeness making Eijirou's skin buzz, tingling despite not truly touching.
He doesn’t pull away. “You know, there's one other flaw with your stupid fucking theory, Shitty Hair,” he murmurs instead, expression unreadable.
Eijirou looks up at Katsuki, question on his face. “What is it?” he asks in an exhale, eyes skating around Katsuki's face before landing on his lips.
“To be my ‘mistress,’ you'd have to be a chick and last I checked, based on your obsession with manliness, you aren't one.”
A slow, smug grin blooms on Eijirou's face and he doesn't miss the way that Katsuki's gaze lands on his sharp teeth. “Oh, so you'd rather I be your paramour , Katsuki?” he teases, though it comes out breathier than he intends. The moment is thick and syrupy like honey fresh from the comb, stretching like the saltwater taffy that Eijirou ate when his family went to the beach as a child. The tension that has only grown and grown between the two as the days go on feels so taut it might snap, right here and right now. His hands itch to feel the soft skin of Katsuki's cheek, the silkiness of the hair that shines golden in the fluorescent lights above, the thrumming of blood underneath the flesh of his sensitive neck. Without his permission, Eijirou’s hand reaches out to do just that, settling on Katsuki’s face, which has fallen slack in shock. “Katsuki, I—”
Someone clears their throat and with a gasp, Eijirou snaps up, smashing his head into Katsuki's nose and sending the other crashing to the ground. Katsuki's body thuds when he hits the linoleum, groaning as he cradles his now bleeding nose. Pout on his face, Eijirou presses his hand to his forehead with a hiss, already feeling what will be a solid knot soon. “Ow,” he complains, rubbing the tender spot.
“ Ow? ” Katsuki snaps, sitting up with a snarl curling his lip. “You fucking broke my nose!”
“Oops?” Eijirou says, somewhere between a horrified noise of genuine distress and a tittering laugh at the way Katsuki is sprawled out on his back, blood leaking between his fingers.
“Don’t laugh, asshole!” he barks, and anyone else would see Katsuki’s face in this moment and see rage, but Eijirou knows better; he sees the way that Katsuki’s fighting back the smile threatening to tug at his lips, the light of mirth sparkling in those glaring eyes, the twitch of his nose that always signals his amusement at Eijirou’s antics.
The nurse clears her throat again, drawing both of their attentions back to her. Eijirou’s hand dives behind his head to scratch the nape of his neck, abashed. “Sorry!” he chirps sheepishly.
Her searching gaze pins Eijirou to where he sits before she brightens, flashing a wide, welcoming smile. “No problem!” she chirps back, looking down at her chart. “How are you feeling, Kirishima-san?”
“A bit sore, but that kinda comes with the territory,” he says, lifting his bandaged arms with a shrug. “I'd like to get out of here soon, if that's possible. I have plans.”
“No, you don't,” Katsuki mutters under his breath. Eijirou pointedly ignores him.
The nurse's eyes flick up and down Eijirou's body, her gaze heavy as if physically touching him. It makes Eijirou’s ears burn, just a little. “I can help with that.” Eijirou feels Katsuki’s stare in the side of his head like a bullet hole and it makes his hair stand on end. Internally grimacing, he keeps his expression schooled into something resembling pleasant and ignores Katsuki as best as he can, eyes forward and settled on his nurse. She writes something in Eijirou’s chart, likely a note of his condition, then hums. “I'll need your number.” Eijirou rattles off his phone number for her, watches as she jots it down. She repeats it back to him, then, when he confirms it is correct, sends another smile his way, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do you need any further assistance?” she asks.
“Ah, well, I’m sure Katsuki here,” he hooks a thumb over his shoulder, “could use a little help with his nose. And if it's not too much trouble, could you redress my wounds before I leave?” He lifts his shirt to reveal that the bandages on his chest have bled through, a sight fitting the horror movies that Katsuki always seems to spend shielding his eyes from using Eijirou’s chest when they have movie nights together.
“Eijirou!” Katsuki scolds. “Why didn't you say something sooner, idiot?”
Eijirou pouts. “I said something now, isn't that enough?”
“Not when—” Katsuki pinches his nose between his fingers. “Never mind. Just fucking—” He waves at the nurse, prompting her to cross the room to address Eijirou's injuries.
Before she starts to shed Eijirou's dressings, her eyes skate between Eijirou and Katsuki, something analytical and indecipherable about her gaze. Then, with a hum, she comes over and proceeds to peel away the bandages from Eijirou's skin, earning a hiss from him at the sting. “You know,” she says conversationally, “with this much bleeding, I should keep you here for longer observation…” She deposits the bloody gauze into a biohazard bin on the other side of the room, then turns to Eijirou again. “Though I can't say it's not the slightest bit selfish on my end.”
There's a hint of suggestion in her voice, though Eijirou isn't sure quite what it means; the way that Katsuki growls while glaring daggers at her tells Eijirou that he does, however. He decides to shrug it off, saying, “I appreciate the concern, but I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
The nurse opens her mouth as if to reply, then snaps it shut when her eyes land on Katsuki. She beams, a thousand-watt grin, and says, “I can keep a secret if you can.”
“That’s unprofessional as fuck,” Katsuki grumbles, once again only loud enough for Eijirou to hear, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“Luckily, I have this one,” Eijirou tips his head towards Katsuki, “to take care of me, so you have nothing to worry about, I promise.”
She simply nods in acceptance, then starts to apply the new, clean gauze around Eijirou’s forearm. After a moment, it becomes clear that she did not prepare enough. “Oh, give me a second, I need to grab more gauze,” she says, her hands trailing along his cracked skin as she stands up. “Your arms are…bigger than most.” She gives an unreadable smile before stepping outside, returning a few moments later. Her touches, though innocent, linger just a bit longer than they need to, which draws an interesting reaction out of Katsuki; the room is so quiet, Eijirou can hear Katsuki grinding his teeth together as she diligently wraps Eijirou in gauze. Once she’s done, she gives Eijirou’s bicep a soft squeeze and another smile. “All done.”
“Thank you!” Eijirou returns her smile.
“As for you, Bakugou-san,” she turns to Katsuki, who is staring her down with the harshest glare Eijirou has ever seen on him, “the doctor will be in in just a few minutes to help you.”
Katsuki’s jaw flexes, but he remembers his manners and mutters a thank you.
She turns back to Eijirou. “Have a good night, Kirishima-san. If you need anything, just ask for Kiyoko.”
“Thank you, Kiyoko, I will.” And with that, she was gone, leaving the faint aroma of sakura in her wake.
After the doctor resets Katsuki’s nose and offers him some painkillers—that are immediately rejected—he and Eijirou are alone once again, free to leave.
“Let's fucking go,” Katsuki barks, grabbing his equipment from where he shed it all while they waited. He doesn't wait for Eijirou as he crosses the room and yanks the door open.
Eijirou cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Katsuki’s back. “What's got you so upset?”
“I'm not fucking upset,” he growls, obviously upset.
Eijirou pushes himself to stand, his joints creaking in protest, and crosses the room to gently push the door closed above Katsuki's shoulder, his arm partially caging Katsuki in. “Hey,” he says, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he turns Katsuki around to face him. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” Katsuki grits out. “Weren't you fucking listening?”
“Oh, I'm listening, but I know you.” Eijirou’s hands itch to tuck Katsuki’s hair behind his ear, so he does so. A thrill runs down Eijirou’s spine when Katsuki leans a bit into the touch, although he’s still scowling. “You really think I don’t know when something is bothering my partner?”
Breaking the spell, Katsuki shakes him off with a displeased huff. “Your partner. Right.”
“Yeah, my partner,” Eijirou says, pouting at Katsuki’s reluctance to disclose what’s bothering him. “How do you expect this whole thing to work if you won’t let me in?” Petulantly, he asks, “What, do I have to guess?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes and slouches back against the door, lazily tipping his head back to look up at Eijirou with a challenging glint in his eye. “You can fucking try.”
“Are you still upset about me getting hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you belatedly mad that Kaminari and Sero invited us out?”
“Ugh, no…” Katsuki narrows his eyes. “We’re not going, just to remind your dumb ass.”
“Whatever,” Eijirou dismisses, then taps his chin in thought. “Are you mad about my performance today?” Eijirou hopes this isn’t the case, but insecurity, and his concern at Katsuki’s behavior, have planted seeds of doubt in his heart.
“What the fuck? No!” Katsuki pushes Eijirou’s shoulder with as much gentleness as someone like Bakugou Katsuki can manage. “I’m fucking proud of you, idiot.”
Relieved, Eijirou smiles, wide and genuine. Still, he probes, “What is it, then? Are you just in pain and regretting saying no to the drugs? We can call the nurse back, I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“No, not her!” Katsuki finally erupts, his voice bouncing off the room’s barren walls.
“The nurse?” Eijirou asks, confusion coloring his voice. “Why not her?”
“She was fucking flirting with you!”
Ah, it seems he’s discovered the true source of Katsuki’s anger. “Oh, she was not,” Eijirou scoffs, rolling his eyes dismissively. “She was being nice and doing her job!”
“She was two seconds away from offering to be your home health nurse!” He throws his hands out wide. “She asked for your goddamn phone number !”
“To put in my chart!” Katsuki’s glare harshens, leveling Eijirou with an expression so hostile and disbelieving that Eijirou starts to doubt. “Probably…” he mumbles, looking away.
“You are ridiculous.”
“What's it matter anyway?” Eijirou asks, lifting his nose in the air and crossing his arms. “Maybe I'll call her back in here and ask her to dinner.”
“You're gay,” Katsuki deadpans.
“Maybe I'm bi, who knows?” Eijirou argues just for the sake of arguing. He knows he's not, never in his life has he been attracted to women, but something about Katsuki’s reaction to the girl makes him want to play it all up, frustrate him further. “This is the first time anyone’s ever shown interest in little old me, so why not go for it?”
Now Katsuki is crossing his own arms, obviously actually pissed off at the conversation. “Well, once today's fight goes live, you'll have plenty of fucking extras falling at your feet. See if I care what you do.”
That gives Eijirou pause. “Wait,” he whispers, bowing his head to nearly close the distance between them. “You're jealous , aren't you, Katsuki?”
Face painted a damning red, Katsuki sputters, “Of fucking course not!”
“That's so cute!” Eijirou goads, eyes half-lidded.
“I am not!”
“What, jealous or cute?”
“Neither!”
Eijirou, in a bout of confidence, swipes his thumb across the pink coloring Katsuki’s cheekbones, then drags it down to trace the plump of Katsuki’s bottom lip. “Sure,” he agrees with a sharp grin when Katsuki’s blush only deepens. “But you don’t have to worry, Katsuki, you’re my one and only.” He means for it to come out needling, mocking Katsuki’s jealousy, but instead of a lilting tease he was aiming for, the words leave his mouth with a sincerity that makes his eyes widen. As quickly as he can, he retracts his hand and tries to amend his statement with, “Because obviously I don’t have time for dating when I’m a hero. Obviously.”
Katsuki’s burning gaze feels smothering. “Obviously,” he echoes.
In an attempt to dispel the palpable tension the mere inches separating them is now steeped in, Eijirou reaches into Katsuki’s front pocket to steal his phone, earning him an alarmed, and pissed , growl as Katsuki nearly jumps into his arms to wrestle it away from him. With his height advantage, Eijirou is able to keep the phone out of Katsuki’s grasp as he unlocks it with his fingerprint and texts the group chat that Katsuki is a part of with his friends. “What are you doing, you bastard?” Katsuki yells as Eijirou easily pushes his face away with his unoccupied hand.
“We’re going to karaoke with those assholes!”