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Stale air ripped through Kaminari’s throat as he hacked out his lungs on the common room sofa. Groaning he leant back into the cushions, gratefully nursing the cup that Kirishima pushed into his hands and taking sips of cool water to ease the bitter dryness in the back of his mouth.
“Why are we downstairs again?” he asked, his voice hoarse and noticeably deeper than usual. “I just wanna sleep.”
“Bakugou said something about not infecting his dorm room. And he wanted the big TV for that American show you both like,” Kirishima replied, slightly muffled from where he was resting on Kaminari’s shoulder.
“But your beds are so much comfier than mine! You really expect me to sleep in my own room? It’s bad enough you’re acting like I’m in quarantine or whatever and kicking everyone out of here.”
“Mmm okay but while he’s gone I can do this without people complaining about PDA or Bakugou yelling at me about getting sick too.”
He leant forward and pressed a kiss onto the top of Kaminari’s head, then a few on his forehead trailing down to his cheek then back up again making little smacking noises each time until Kaminari swatted him away, grinning.
“That’s gay,” he muttered, settling down and leaning against his boyfriend.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few mintutes, Kirishima’s hand resting solidly on Kaminari’s thigh as he coughed and spluttered. Eventually his nose began to twitch and scrunch up. He tried to look at Kirishima to give him some word of warning but it was too late.
He took a deep, staggered breath and sneezed as sparks flickered from his body, barely keeping them contained so they danced across his skin. The second sneeze did not grant him as much control and he slipped, coughing into his fist as aftershocks rattled him and bolts of electricity illuminated the room in flashes of white.
A slightly singed Kirishima patted his back while shaking out the sting of a shock from the side closest to him.
“Dude stop sneezing! You’re gonna knock me out before Bakubro gets back.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to not sneeze?”
“Lemme google…” He pulled out his phone, brow furrowing in concentration as he tapped the screen. “Grab the spot between your eyebrows? Okay, worth a shot. Come here.”
“Dude no. Stop!”
Kirishima’s arm was already outstretched as he leapt towards him, forcing Kaminari down to lie on his back as he coughed into his hand. By the difference in health and strength, Kaminari was at a severe disadvantage but still put up a good fight, occasionally sparking electricity to zap the hardened hands while shouting and wriggling as much as he could. In the end it was fruitless and Kirishima’s blunt fingertips scraped against the skin of his glabella, scrabbling for purchase before he changed direction and pinched along the bridge of Kaminari’s nose until he reached the top.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” asked Bakugou as he came into the room, anger and curiosity fighting for dominance in his tone.
“Trying to stop Kaminari sneezing. Did it work? Dyou feel like sneezing now?” Kirishima asked, turning to face Kaminari.
Kaminari looked up at him, eyebrows raised either side of a blotchy red patch of aggravated skin and coughed, once, into his face.
The blanket Bakugou chucked across the room to land over Kaminari’s head muffled the whine of disgust Eijirou made.
“There’s your shitty insulation to stop your fucking quirk running wild,” he grumbled, turning his back to set up the TV.
Wrapping himself up in the blanket so only his face poked out, Kaminari leant on Kirishima and appreciated, not for the first time, Yaomomo’s expert craftsmanship. Since the USJ attack she had had to make various types of insulation whether she was teamed up with or against him in hero training. He was considering asking Mei to somehow include some in his hero supplies, just in case, and was sure Mina would love to come and flirt with her while he talked to Power Loader.
Bakugou tutted loudly as he tucked in some loose ends of the insulation and muttered something about ‘fucking paying attention’. Offering him a tired smile, Kaminari let himself be shifted and moved onto Bakugou’s lap while the Hell’s Kitchen theme tune played.
He tuned out the flashy opening of contestants being forced into a jungle or were they being attacked by robots this time? He couldn’t remember. The rumbling warmth of Bakugou’s voice steadily switching between translating and chastising Kirishima for not studying English enough, was a comforting background noise as he curled up and slipped further into his cocoon, watching the remnants of sparks light up the blanket after the odd coughing fit.
By the time he was able to lie down across their laps without Bakugou arguing that it was better to be upright with a cough and yanking him back up again, he was almost asleep. A corner of the blanket dipped into his blurring vision as he settled down into the warmth. It was nice to know that he’d be looked after, and even when the state of his quirk made it too dangerous for Recovery Girl to heal him, his boyfriends had stepped up with quick thinking and pure affection. To him, this just confirmed that they were already heroes.