Chapter Text
When Kirishima’s finally allowed visitors, Katsuki hesitates outside of his door.
It’s stupid, getting all caught up now after everything, but it feels like a monumental task just to take a step forward, let alone push the door open.
Mitsuki leans forward and whispers in his ear. “You know you have to turn the knob if you want to open it.”
“Shut up, you old hag,” he hisses and she slaps him upside the head, albeit gentler than her normal. It’s still damn hard though and Katsuki’s head rocks forward with the impact. “The hell was that for?!”
“I’m trying to lighten the mood, you ungrateful brat,” she growls. Then her face softens and she lays a hand on his shoulder. “He’s okay. He seems like a fighter, something like this won’t knock him down.”
Katsuki glances at her, watches her smile reassuringly. He looks away.
“I get it. What you said earlier,” he mumbles, and her brow furrows. She makes a questioning noise at him and he grits his teeth. “About trusting someone with something.” He trails off, unsure exactly how to finish that thought, but it clicks for Mitsuki anyway and she nods at him to continue.
His lips press tight for a moment, then he forces them to open. “I’m not the one on the operating table but ... it’s hard.”
“I know,” she says, pulling him into a hug. “I know.”
He lets her hold him close for a few seconds longer than he would normally, then pulls away, eyes downcast. If he’s going to do this, he’s got to do it now. He’s not going to be intimidated by some damn door.
He turns around and pushes past the hesitation so he can step inside. It’s a private room - another perk of Toyomitsu’s connections, he’s guessing - and Katsuki pauses when he sees someone else sitting at Kirishima’s bedside.
“You must be Bakugou,” the woman says. She’s old and wizened, hunched over a little as she finishes jotting down a few notes on her clipboard. Katsuki’s brow furrows. “I’m Shuzenji Chiyo, the head doctor. Come in, I was just finishing up.”
She steps to the side to beckon him further into the room and he slowly makes his way to the side of the hospital bed. Kirishima is looking up at him from where he’s swaddled in the sheets, more extensive bandages on his chest but otherwise in great condition.
“You two must have quite a story for Toyomitsu to be pulling favors,” Shuzenji comments as she gathers her things. Katsuki’s eyes flash to her warily but she only smiles, serene as she waggles a finger at them. “Try not to get hurt again too badly.”
She leaves then and Katsuki watches her go, but even though his heart is beating a little bit faster, he feels fairly confident that Toyomitsu was right about her. He lets himself slump down into the chair by Kirishima’s bed with a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Even though you seem hell-bent on revealing it to everyone, your secret’s safe,” he grumbles. “No one’s going to tell. Try to keep it under fucking wraps from now on, you moron.”
Kirishima nods but doesn’t say anything, gaze flickering from Katsuki to the bed and back again.
Katsuki stiffens. “What?” He can’t keep from feeling the knee-jerk flare of panic that maybe Kirishima is regretting letting everyone know, that maybe this will be the final straw that pushes him to leave and never look back. The feeling only sharpens when Kirishima finally makes eye contact with him and Katsuki sees the way they’re red-rimmed, like he’s on the verge of tears.
“What?” He steps closer, like the distance will make him talk. “What is it?!”
Kirishima swallows, then reaches across the space between them to cradle Katsuki’s splinted hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
It immediately deflates Katsuki’s rising panic and he clicks his tongue.
“What, again? I’m the best vet here, you think some pussy shit like this would knock me out?” He shakes his head and sends Kirishima his best, no-nonsense glare. They’ve already gone over this and it’s really not a topic he wants to revisit.
But Kirishima’s still cradling his hand, lips pressed in a thin line, and Katsuki sighs.
“You idiot. I did this to myself,” he murmurs.
Kirishima shakes his head. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought him here.”
It’s the most monumentally stupid thing Kirishima’s said since they met and for a moment, Katsuki has to curb the sudden, visceral urge to knock him sky high. He’s not even sure he can dignify it with a response. But Kirishima’s still looking annoyingly downcast, so Katsuki sits on the bedside and tries.
“I’d do it again,” he says. Kirishima’s head whips up, mouth falling open on a protest, but Katsuki just talks over him. “It’s your fault? Quit talking stupid. Do you know how many lives we’ve saved just by putting that fucker in jail?”
He stares Kirishima down, daring him to say otherwise, then turns away. There’s a window in the opposite wall and he pretends his attention is on the courtyard outside rather than the man beside him.
“I don’t regret it. So you don’t either,” he grumbles.
Silence answers him and he looks up to see Kirishima rubbing a hand over his eyes with the one that’s not holding Katsuki’s.
He clicks his tongue. “Don’t cry.”
Kirishima chokes on a watery laugh. “It’s manly to cry.”
He finishes wiping his eyes, then grins as he looks up.
“What?” Katsuki asks, gruff.
“Nothing,” Kirishima says. “You’re just amazing, is all.” He looks down at his hands fiddling with the sheets in his lap. “I’ve never had a pack, so having someone help me like this is just...” He trails off, a flush rising up his neck to his cheeks, and Katsuki scowls at him. What is he, a shy schoolgirl?
“The fuck are you talking about, you don’t have a pack?” Kirishima quits fidgeting with the sheets to glance up at him. “You’ve got us, don’t you?” He grumbles it out past the heat flaring in his face, and when Kirishima only stares at him he feels the heat spike. “Well, don’t you?!”
“Oh!” Kirishima says, wide-eyed and blinking, and now they’re both like fucking schoolgirls. But the surprise fades, replaced with the warm contentment that Katsuki can feel even from where he’s sitting. “Yeah,” he says slowly, like he’s savoring the word on his tongue, “I guess I do.”
He looks down and Katsuki watches the way his lashes fan out over his flushed cheeks. He really is something else.
Kirishima catches him watching and licks his lips nervously. “Sorry, I’m just really happy right now.”
“Quit apologizing, idiot,” Katsuki murmurs.
Then he leans in to press their lips together, his hand brushing along Kirishima’s on the bed to let him know he’s happy too.