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Rubble crunches and clicks, rocks and debris scattering. Harsh, leering sunlight occasionally stabs at the corners of his eyes, whenever he looks up or faces a certain angle. Stupid sun. Damn useless bastard, why couldn’t that nerd just pull it together!?
“Damnit… Idiot… What were you thinking, you damn nerd!”
Bakugo seethes at the wreckage.
Twenty minutes, and he’d yet to find the damn guy.
He glances behind him, at the distant commotion of his occupied classmates, heroes and people; most were busy helping with civilians. Pretty much everyone had been rescued; the villains themselves hadn’t been… THAT dangerous. (Yeah, totally. They totally didn’t have like a hundred damn hostages and the ability to murder everyone.)
“Damnit…”
He glares at the sun, the rubble, and then across the frighteningly vast disaster zone. There were three other small search parties scouting the rubble, from those who could be spared.
Unfortunately, this scene was simply lacking a LOT of the crap they needed.
Like manpower.
And common sense, specifically in that DAMN BASTARD. (He knew why Deku did it. Didn’t mean he couldn’t rage about it.)
(At least, he wouldn’t STOP raging until they found him.)
A rumble distracts Bakugo from his thoughts. His gaze snaps towards a run-down kind of shop, by the dusty, rubble-peppered road. He’d wandered to the edge of the zone, as no one had bothered there yet.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growls. He sighs, feeling a sense of calm fury, as he strides (gently, he tries to remind himself. Didn’t work out that way) towards the building.
And there he was, in his gloriously annoying Deku-ey self.
To be fair, the guy looks about as done as everyone else. His eyes flicker with relief, and some… muddled form of happiness, when they land on Kacchan stood in the narrow entrance. Other than that, he looked totally pissed off. Just wouldn’t admit it.
“You were all looking in the completely WRONG direction,” Deku mutters, wryly; if he wasn’t such a goddamn cinnamon roll, he might’ve sworn in that sentence.
Bakugo snorts. He rolls his eyes, crosses the distance and crouches there, making eye contact with the green-toned hero.
“You don’t actually look that beat up,” Kacchan comments. He’s almost surprised (pleasantly, though).
His eyes scan for any major visible injuries; there’s some nasty bruises and scrapes, sure, and enough dust to make several housemaids roll in their graves, but there’s no horribly mangled limbs or great, gaping bloody wounds demanding surgery or something. He frowns, at a nasty gash on his old-childhood friend’s forehead. “That might be an issue, though.”
“Yeah,” Deku confirms. He shuffles, almost awkwardly, and coughs a little. “And with all the dust and… y’know. Gave up hollering after a while.”
“You idiot! Bakugo snarls. “You should’ve kept yelling. It’s by pure luck I found you.”
“I know, I ju— ah! Kacchan, wait!”
The blonde freezes. Alarm pierces his veins, crackling heat in his palms; alarms firing and instincts flaring. His head snaps over his shoulder, but to find no villains. Looking again, it’s a look of slight pain in Deku’s expression he discovers. Bakugo grunts, quietly. He retraces his mental steps, thinking, reminding himself, don’t let your anger get the best of you. Be rational.
What has he done wrong, and how can he deal with it.
“Sorry, sorry… Ka-Kacchan, you touched my leg…”
Bakugo’s eyes narrow.
“It’s… uhm… my ankle… I think it might —”
“Don’t tell me you’ve goddamn broken it again, Deku!”
“NO! No, it’s not like that! I think it’s just sprained — or — or something… and it hurts, that’s why… it’s not hurt that badly…” Deku bites his lip, still withdrawn against the wall. Bakugo falters, slightly, and mentally hisses at himself.
He has to stop doing that… he has to stop — that. Causing Deku to…
No. He doesn’t DO that anymore. Hasn’t for a while. He’s hurt… of course he’s on edge. You bastard! That’s definitely not what I’m meant to do.
“Ka-Kacchan?”
“Stop stammering like that,” Bakugo mutters — he pinches the bridge of his nose, despite the grainy texture on his battle-used glove pestering his skin.
Deku blinks. The other clicks his tongue. “Not very hero-like. Right?”
“R-right… Sor —”
“Don’t apologise. Even if it WAS your fault you’re in this mess, because it’s YOUR damn mess!”
Deku smiles, weakly. Bakugo resists the urge to resort to violent means and MAKE his classmate pass out. It’d be easier to get him back, then, probably…
“Well… honestly, most things these days tend to be, Kacchan.”
“Good point. Ugh.”
“Trust me, I’m not that happy about it either.”
Katsuki snorts, dryly. He shakes his head, and takes his eyes and hands off from the green-haired teen’s leg.
Deku blinks. When did he do THAT?
“You’re not wrong. Idiot.”
Noticing Deku’s expression, he huffs, as he ties a strip of fabric around the injury in hopes of helping. The hero-in-training barely makes a noise, and hardly flinches, just watching, as if submissive to his suffering. He grinds his teeth together, eyes centred only on securing the make-shift bandage, as he growls under his breath. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“…What do you mean?”
“Your pain tolerance is scary, damnit.”
“Oh.” Deku replies, blank-faced. He tilts his head. “So I’ve been told. But… scarier than you?”
“What.”
“Never-mind! So, uh,” Deku gulps. He gestures to his bad leg. Bakugo didn’t verbalise it, but the ankle was DEFINITELY twisted, or sprained — he’s sure it would’ve hurt more if it were broken — but it was SOMETHING of the sort. Damn nerd just had to get himself hurt. At least, this time, it didn’t seem to be the aftermath of using his quirk.
Looks like Aizawa-Sensei could keep some of his remaining sanity, after all, when he found out about this latest addition to his most troublesome child’s injury list.
Bakugo presumes the reckless idiot must’ve somehow hauled himself over here, just to be a tad safer (the site was still unstable, of course, and villains could’ve still been nearby) and that alone couldn’t have done many wonders for the limb.
Deku breaks the brief silence, speaking gingerly. “What do we…”
“What do you THINK?” He scoffs. “We don’t have that many choices with that messed up ankle of yours.”
“Oh… well, we could wait for —”
“I’m getting you out here, idiot. Neither of us are going to just SIT AROUND HERE.”
“…Kacchan, is that —”
“No it’s not a good idea. But I’m impatient, you’re impatient and your leg is screwed up. As long as you don’t do any worse to it it’s probably better if we just get you to the medics sooner rather than later.” Bakugo grumbles, resentfully. They couldn’t even message the other heroes, or something, as most of them had OH SO WISELY left their phones behind. Ugh. He continues on, heaving a sigh. “Knowing those dumb-asses they’ll take forever to even GET here… let’s not risk it.”
“You’re… yeah, you’re probably right… Still doesn’t sound like a very good plan…”
Bakugo attempts to calm himself, trying to imagine turning down the heat bar of his rage. Turn it right down, now, keep the bar nice and low, handle the situation like a hero. He inhales, and exhales. They wouldn’t get anywhere like this. Time for a different approach. Deku likes reason, right? He’ll throw some damn facts in his FACE.
“Your ankle looked pretty messed up, y’know.”
Deku’s eyes fall further down — they fixate on the ground by Bakugo’s feet, somehow unable to meet his eyes. He swallows, thickly. “It’s not that bad.”
“You’re kidding yourself.”
“Of course I am, Kacchan!” Deku bites out, abruptly. He pipes down, after a second, miserably. “But there’s nothing I can do to change that now. I just have to deal with it.”
He doesn’t know else to say, on that. He didn’t WANT to say anything to that. It wasn’t… it wasn’t scary, but it was something he didn’t want to address. Their… friendship — WHATEVER this relationship the two of them had — it had become something new, not so long ago. And it was fragile. It was… dangerous, in its own way. Unpredictable.
(Sometimes he wanted to strangle the nerd. And other times, he felt like they were back in kindergarten, before quirks or… bullying, or any of that.)
(He didn’t want to risk it.)
“C’mon, then,” he sighs, after a long while of tense silence. He doesn’t move from his crouched position, and neither does Deku, but it snags the sulking teen’s attention.
“And how are we… y’know… meant to—“
Damnit.
“I am NOT carrying you like some pretty f— (“Kacchan!”) — princess!”
Deku’s protests weren’t even coherent or legible.
Bakugo glares, fiercely and hotly, and bites down on his tongue to PHYSICALLY restrain the string of curses he wants to lay on the other. Now isn’t the time, he has to remind himself — it never really was, but now especially. He shouldn’t have mentioned it, honestly. Now the idiot was stammering again. Great.
Just absolutely wonderful.
“Of course I’m not, idiot!” He barks. Deku’s mouth snaps shut. Bakugo pinches the bridge of his nose (he seemed to be doing that a LOT today), and shuts his eyes. “Ugh… Damnit… I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Kacchan…?”
“It’s your lucky day, Deku,” Bakugo says, in a breathy growl. “Haven’t done this since frickin’ kindergarten.”
Deku blinks, confused. Bakugo releases an indignant sigh.
“Just… give me your legs already —”
“W-WHAT!?”
“I’M GIVING YOU A PIGGY-RIDE, DAMNIT!”
“Ka-Kacchan… Kacchan, wait!” Izuku’s voice, small and whiny and starting to get annoying, ringed again in Katsuki’s ears.
“What are you crying about NOW, Izuku!?” he snapped, at long last. He whirled around to look at his friend. The green-messy-haired boy clutched at the hem of his bright yellow shirt, and tears welled in the corners of those big, scared eyes. He was shivering, like a wind chime knocking together in the hot summer breeze. Kacchan stared, unblinkingly.
Izuku just bit his lip, and he looked down, and trembled. It was like he had something to say, and yet, something he didn’t WANT to say.
Weakling.
“Well? Spit it out.” Katsuki huffed a breath between his teeth. He took a step forward, getting up in that obnoxious ‘personal bubble’ their teachers went on and on about. What did he care about bubbles? They were just a nuisance. And stung if they popped in your eye.
Anyways. Izuku. And his annoying crybaby tendenc… ies…
Katsuki’s eyes landed on the problem. Izuku must’ve ignored it, this whole time; his ankle was red and angry-looking and not very nice.
“It’s… it’s not th… that bad…”
“Yeah right,” Kacchan muttered, softly. His glare lowered, from irritated to understanding, and there was a hint of sympathy on his expression.
He wasn’t sure, really, what he had felt in that moment, even in hindsight.
Maybe he had truly cared, for once.
“When did this happen?” Katsuki asked, as he looked at it. In a weird, bizarre way only little kids could be, the two HAD found the event fascinating.
(Or, well, Izuku had found it painful but at least DIFFERENT. Kacchan probably had just found it interesting.)
“It’s such a gross red colour…”
“I…” Izuku sniffled, borderline about to wail. Geez. “Kacchaaan—“
“Can you STOP that WHINING.”
(To be fair, after that day, any whining Izuku had ever done DID stop. He didn’t whine much at all, in fact, after that. Bakugo was never sure how to take it.)
Izuku fiddled with his shirt.
He had plopped down, at some point, on the pavement, still all teary-eyed.
Kacchan frowned. “Can you walk?”
“I d-don’t know…”
Oh, screw it all.
“I’ve got an idea,” Katsuki finally announced, looking quite smug. He put his hands on his hips and humph’ed. “I’ve seen the bigger kids do it!”
Izuku’s eyes had lit up, the way they had always done.
It wasn’t infrequent; the teachers found it terribly cute. Katsuki found it infuriating.
He huffed. “It’s called a PIGGYBACK. So you…”
He paused.
Piggy-back should mean… back? So the pig… holds onto the BACK…?
Okay, he’d lied a little. He had never paid much attention to the bigger kids and had no idea how this REALLY went.
They compromised.
After all, Kacchan’s ideas were amazing, and even if it was wrong, it was Kacchan’s idea anyways so it MUST be amazing.
That was their logic. (Crap logic, in hindsight.)
Although it was slightly hard work, for little 4-year old Katsuki to ultimately be the one holding his friend up, Izuku still did his fair share and clung with tiny arms and legs. He had started to bawl, unsurprisingly, the moment Kacchan had tightened his hold. The idiot must’ve taken it as a sign of affection.
Of COURSE he did.
They walked like that, back to the Kindergarten. Katsuki would go on to conjure up some great, amazing story of how he had valiantly fought off some dangerous sharks attacking Izuku to cover up for the wet patch on his shirt.
“Th-thank you, Kacchan…” Izuku sniffled. “You’re so amazing…”
“Yeah yeah,” he muttered. “Crybaby…”
“This… isn’t technically a piggyback, you know, Kacchan.” Deku scrunches up his face, exhaling softly. “More like a piggy-front…”
“Shut up, Deku.” Bakugo grumps. “It’s a piggy carry.”
“I can’t believe you’re even saying ‘piggy’.” Deku decides to get bold, the bastard, as he prods further. Damn his like-10-year-late surge-of-confidence. “Isn’t that a bit too… uh… cute? Stupid? For you?”
“I can still drop you.”
The freckle-faced boy tenses, and begins to mumble under his breath. Katsuki was pretty sure the guy was pouting. “Yeah, and then my ankle would REALLY be messed up…”
Bakugo hisses. “Your face is like right next to my ear, Deku, I can bloody well hear you.”
The noise his rival made in retaliation was remarkable; blatantly insulted. Bakugo would’ve paid some serious cash to see the looks on his classmates’ faces at such rudeness coming from one of their ‘best boys’.
The ground crunches beneath his feet, as they cross the seemingly endless expanse of debris.
Deku wasn’t in any way LIGHT, per-say, just a bit heavy. Nothing to scoff at. Bakugo supposes it only made sense, with the kind of muscle mass his classmates pack.
The aggressive blonde didn’t mind, holding up the injured flesh-bag around the lower back and legs (yes, it was awkward. They had an unspoken vow; don’t let Aizawa know about the marks it’d inevitably leave). Deku did the rest, holding on with arms around the other’s shoulders and neck, legs crossed over the explosive teen’s back. It was just his ankle that was badly hurt, after all.
“I’m going to have some seriously questionable bruises, after this.”
Bakugo chokes down a snort. “Tch,” he says, instead, eyes gleaming with amusement. Deku couldn’t see that, fortunately. “True.”
“Iida might freak out…”
“I don’t give a flying f— (“Kacchan… please…”) about four-eyes.” Bakugo pauses, and exhales, in a disgruntled tone. “The only one I’m worried about it that half-and-half-bastard who’s taken such an annoying liking to you.”
“Don’t call Todoroki that, Kacchan. It’s not nice.”
“‘It’s not nice, Kacchan’!” Bakugo mockingly repeats, and (quite deliberately) raises his voice for Deku to clearly, painstakingly hear.
“YEAH, IT’S NOT MEANT TO BE NICE YOU IGNORANT A S S.”
Deku winces, slightly shying away from the shout. He mumbles, moodily, and props his chin atop the small of Katsuki’s back.
From the way he feels Deku’s jaw shift, the cursed cinnamon roll really WAS pouting...
Typical.
“Hey, Kacchan?”
“Yeah? What is it.” Katsuki frowns, despite it all; something about that… tone. It strikes chords that he often keeps under lock and key, and somehow this damn bastard can sneak past his defences. Again. Whatever he wanted to say was… well… he didn’t want to say ‘personal’, but knowing the emotional, snivelling heap of broken bones his rival was, then…
“Do you remember when we did this, in Kindergarten? Before…”
“When we…”
“You know. Before your quirk manifested. And we —”
“I know when it was, idiot.” Silence falls between them, for a moment. The blonde clicks his tongue in irritancy, and casts a glance at the mop of green curls perched on his back. He was like a particularly annoying, clingy parrot, or some crap. Damn Deku. He continues, reluctantly, being careful with his… choice of words.
“I guess I forgot about that incident. Heh,” he wets his lip, chapped and dry from the day’s chaotic events. It was a miracle neither of them were hurt worse. “Fate’s got a funny way of toying with us, doesn’t it?”
“Did you just mention fate? Oh, no,” Deku breathes. “You’re losing it…”
“What was that, you bastard!?”
Deku startles, like a spooked bunny rabbit, but he doesn’t apologise. He laughs, softly, in a hysterical kind of fashion. He wasn’t SCARED, though. Honestly, Bakugo wagers it was that kind of terrified thrill you’d get on a roller coaster.
Goddamnit.
“I’m seriously starting to think you’ve got brain damage, idiot.”
“Add it to the pile.”
“Keep sassing the shit out of me like this and your honorary class title is going to be revoked, nerd.”
“Well, I always preferred cookies over cinnamon rolls…”
Deku breathes deeply, relaxing against the steady figure of the body he was oh-so-infuriatingly pressed up close against. His chin digs in, comfortably, and Bakugo swears he can FEEL those bright green eyes close, as if shutting them made the world a little less happy. The smaller teen hums, quietly, pondering to himself.
“Maybe I could be a ferocious, sassy lil’ cookie, instead… yeah… that’s much cooler…”
“No, it’s not, you nerd.”
“Hmm…”
“Ugh. You’re such a pain. Literally — Wait. Don’t tell me — don’t you DARE fall asleep on me, damnit! Ugh! Damnit, Deku. I’m going to whoop your ass next training session!”
“…The cookie will prevail… I will FIGHT…”
“Are you even aware of what you’re SAYING!? ARGH! F—”
By the time Bakugo finally makes his way back to the main site of rescue and command, the sun had fallen low and shattered into the shadowy twilight rearing up after its dying rays. Surviving street lamps, and set-up light posts and pillars were harshly bright (Bakugo hisses, upon one accidentally catching his line of sight), but helpful in the dark. It was still bustling and mildly noisy, and people moved to-and-fro with an air of calm, but productive hustle.
The trip had taken longer than he’d hoped for; a solid half an hour, at least, working his way back to the site, lugged down by Deku. He should’ve known, really. If it had taken him twenty minutes just to find him…
He couldn’t help but… feel something, too.
A flutter of disquiet in his gut, of alarm and oversensitivity. The aftermath of a battle, his hero training, and general feelings of trepidation. It made his stomach lurch when startled, and his body ached and tingled (and not just from Deku’s sometimes ticklish-hair and the fact he’d been carrying a dead weight for so long).
There was a fierce protectiveness, too, he feels, reminding him of his sleeping luggage. The teen had passed out, a while ago, and hadn’t responded in the slightest ever since, other than the occasional sleepy mumble or tensing grip.
Bakugo sighs. He felt drained; more-so than he has in… a while, truthfully. He was so ready to go home.
Sleep sounds fricking amazing right now…
Bakugo glares, irritated, at Deku. So what if he was jealous? The dude got to snooze away all his worries while HE dealt with the problems DEKU had made for HIMSELF.
Ugh. Lucky bastard.
He whistles, sharply, to catch the attention of others. Immediately, they were flocked (miraculously, and a LITTLE worriedly, Deku didn’t do so much as stir) by people. Someone naturally tries to take the greenette from Bakugo, who immediately flinches, and clutches his rival closer. “Don’t,” he spits, before he can even THINK; the lady looks startled, uncertain now.
Bakugo grumbles. “Sorry. I…”
Damnit, this was a problem. Why didn’t he want to let GO? Hasn’t he been complaining, doing so literally a few moments ago?
Screw it. He’ll deal with the emotional consequences (and whatever else) later.
“You shouldn’t take him,” he says, much more placidly. She blinks at him. “It’ll disturb him more or make things worse.”
She still looks unsure, so he flashed her a small (FORCED, ugh) smile.
“Trust me.”
She nods, after a tense silence. She leads them over to where some medics were waiting, and on the way, Bakugo yells over to the crowd of confused extras, who CLEARLY don’t know what to do. Ugh. Why were they even here, then!? They were just holding everyone else back. There was a serious problem going on. And all they did was STARE? Really?
(Only later would he realise WHY they looked so startled. By now, there weren’t many who were unaware of Bakugo’s fierce nature, and furthermore, some had even heard of his rivalry with the hero Deku.)
He clicks his tongue, and glares. “OI! One of you do something,” he snaps. “Call of those search parties, tell ‘em I’ve got Deku — the green-haired bunny-rabbit idiotic hero.”
He almost adds ‘if they’re still looking’ but on second thought, he doesn’t, mostly for… selfish, reasons, really.
If they WEREN’T still looking, and had given up, he’d have been seriously pissed.
The medical exam doesn’t take long. He doesn’t doubt they want to take his rival to the hospital, but Bakugo assures them it isn’t necessary — they were probably busy enough as it was, over there, anyway. In comparison, all in all, Deku’s injuries weren’t that bad. His ankle would be perfectly fine before long (ready to break again, how lovely), and he probably had some minor concussion.
Overall, the idiot was just deadbeat exhausted, and needed his rest.
As he was left alone, at last, with Deku still clinging to him in such a disgustingly snuggly way, he takes the time to really calm down and BREATHE.
He hadn’t stopped for… hours…
His arm subconsciously tightens around Deku’s waist, drawing him closer, as Katsuki grudgingly rests his head on top of his unconscious childhood friend’s.
It was far from silent, here, but it could have been for them.
It was for a while, that they stayed like that.
Idiot.
“Yo! Bakugo!”
Quickly, he lifts his head. His attention hones in on Shitty-Hair, closing in fast. Most of their other, lower-ranking classmates were coming, too, and he could already guess what they’d say.
Their imminent disbelief, at this sight — he also saw that coming. But he tried to ignore that in favour of pretending he WASN’T cradling his so-called ‘worst frenemy’ in his lap. He honestly didn’t want to admit or comprehend it himself, despite the very prominent weight and contact he could feel, or how aware he was of Deku’s peaceful breathing and heartbeat…
“Holy CRAP, Bakugo —”
“Don’t even —”
“Oh my god, guys! You’re back! You scare— Wait. Is that Deku and BAKUGO?”
“YES! I HAVE HIM! NOW SHUT UP!”
Wisely, they did (not for long, though, which WASN’T wise).
Now that the initial… disbelief, had quelled, the concern rolled into the shore. They pelt HIM with questions and fussing and worries in place of the one who SHOULD be answering the questions about HIMSELF. Bakugo, in turn, gave minimal answers, appropriately. Deku could freaking explain it. Later. When Bakugo could get some sleep.
Yes, the damn idiot was going to be fine. No, Bakugo didn’t do this or knock him out.
No, it wasn’t Deku’s quirk that did this (this time).
And NO, HE WAS NOT DEKU’S SECRET BOYFRIEND OR SOMETHING, ICYHOT.
“Haha, really, Todoroki? Good one!”
“I’m being serious…”
“I can’t believe you seriously carried him all the way back here like that, Bakugo!”
“Yeah! That’s so manly, bro!”
“Just look at him, all asleep and snuggly. What a cutie!”
“Yeah. I kinda wanna give him a hug…”
“Aww man, me too. He’s such a cinnamon roll.”
His patience wearing thin, no sane man could blame Bakugo’s sense of relief upon spotting their homeroom teacher, weaving through the crowd (an air of urgency with him, they noted, fondly. He really did care, no matter what he said) until he stood before them all.
The other students quiet down, looking to the Erasure Hero and teacher with anticipation.
His words were nothing short of iconic.
“Did Midoriya seriously go and break his ankle again. Why. Why must he do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?”
Before anyone could answer, the sleepy, not-exactly-fully-aware Deku was mumbling, and in the silence, it was loud and clear.
“No… I’m a ferocious… sassy lil… cookie…”
Silence.
Seeking more warmth and more contact, Deku wriggles and snuggles, pushing his body closer and further into the cozy place he’d found himself clinging to. Despite Bakugo’s weak attempts at dislodging and nudging his… very touchy-feely rival away, the greenette wouldn’t budge. Deku exhales, contently, nuzzling his face into the crook of Bakugo’s neck.
Bakugo silently, helplessly fixes his teacher with a look of sheer desperation. Aizawa’s blank, staring gaze meets his student’s.
“Well, looks like Bakugo’s carrying the Problem Child home.”
" F —"
Deku frowns in his sleep, voice muffled and small.
“Kacchan… mmmph… language…”
And… with that in mind, Bakugo’s murderous intent only surged stronger, seeing many of his classmates futilely attempting to restrain their mutinous laughter.
(Aizawa looked completely and resolutely dead inside.)
It should be noted, that ever since that day? The ‘BakuDeku Piggy-Front Ride’ was a frequent sighting in the Dormitory of their class. It was adorable, baffling, and slightly hilarious, but of course — no one dared speak of the phenomenon…
(Well. Except Sero. The next day, he received some suspiciously burnt pancakes).
The poor bloke who, one lovely spring day, walked in to see the famously explosive Bakugo, getting a cup of coffee, while the resident class cinnamon roll clung to him like a pouting viridian koala — with all of this transpiring without a single word exchanged — was rendered totally speechless.
When Aizawa eventually arrived to save the deadpanning Bakugo, sipping his steaming-hot coffee, and lightly snoozing Deku, he really couldn’t blame the unfortunate fellow.
BONUS :
“…It was so sweet, man! Bakugo just came rocking up, totally chill about it all. Found you all on his own! Man, were you out of it,” Kirishima chuckled. The class was gathered in the Dorm Common Area, surrounding a recently returned Deku. He’d spent a day totally asleep after their encounter with villainy and rescuing, and then he’d spent another in the Nurse’s office. Now he could actually join them, tired but conscious, for dinner and the evening.
They’d just been explaining everything, to him, in enthusiastic detail — after all, now that the fear and the danger had worn off, the success of the mission had them all pretty pumped.
There wasn’t anything quite like the feeling of doing hero work, and seeing all their training pay off.
Midoriya too gave a small laugh, but then cocked his head with a frown. “I can’t really remember much,” he said, and blinked curiously. “How’d Kacchan get me back there?”
Silence fell over the group. Bakugo, leant against the wall, lifted his head, a dangerous gleam in his crimson eyes. “You don’t remember!?” he snapped, narrowing his gaze onto his confused, small, green-haired rival.
Their classmates could probably cut this tension with a butter —
“No?”
—never mind, that adorable look on Midoriya’s face was far too adorable to be legal.
(In hindsight, the following exchange was hilarious, though.)
Bakugo made an insufferable noise; his eyes widened and his pupils turned to pinpricks, as his voice took on a high kind of strained pitch. He threw up his hands in exasperation.
“We had a bonding moment!”
His voice CRACKED.
“I CRADLED YOU IN MY ARMS!!!”
“…Technically, it was your lap.”