Work Text:
Todoroki could always tell when it started—breakfast began to taste different. On the surface, everything was the same as always. Bakugou still made breakfast. They still ate together. But some small indescribable thing was different about the food.
Todoroki suspected a change in the spices—perhaps some were missing altogether. Perhaps Bakugou stopped paying the same level of care and attention to his cooking.
The conversations at the table changed, too. Bakugou still scrolled the news on his phone. Todoroki still sorted through papers and to-do lists left over from the day before. Todoroki still talked, made small remarks, suggested plans for the day. But Bakugou no longer listened. Sure, he probably heard Todoroki speak, but he no longer nodded along to what Todoroki said. His eyebrows were no longer knit together with concentration. Bakugou’s eyes were on his phone, as usual. But Todoroki doubted he was reading. There was a dullness, a blankness, to Bakugou’s eyes.
Whenever breakfasts began to taste different, Todoroki took over cleaning the dishes afterward. Bakugou didn’t complain—he tended not to, when he got like this.
Once it starts, the commutes to work get quieter. Or, Bakugou does. The rest of the train was simply too damn loud, according to Bakugou. There was nothing different about the rest of the train. Todoroki usually did not point this out.
At work, the output from the labs would decrease even as Bakugou put in more and more hours over what was necessary. Todoroki took over making dinner, took food to Bakugou in bento boxes. Sometimes Bakugou thanked him.
Bakugou didn’t complain about Todoroki’s cooking, probably because he rarely even ate the meals Todoroki brought. But Todoroki still brought them, because sometimes Bakugou did eat. And Bakugou always took a break when Todoroki arrived in the labs. At least for a moment.
At home, the bedtime routine fell apart, faded away. Todoroki tried to follow it alone, best he could, for as long as he could. But brushing his teeth wasn’t the same without Bakugou at his side, ranting into the mirror around a mouthful of toothpaste.
Bakugou stopped going to bed when Todoroki did. He spent all hours in their home office. But in the mornings, Bakugou had nothing to show for all his time working except for greater bags under his eyes. Sometimes Todoroki made breakfast.
The worst time lasted over a month. Todoroki began to lose his appetite in the mornings. Breakfasts simply hurt too much, somewhere deep and unspoken inside his chest.
It reached its peak late one evening, three weeks after it started. Todoroki brought dinner in a bento box. He found Bakugou alone in the lab. He was lying on the floor, eyes trained on the ceiling. Broken glass littered the tables and countertops. Todoroki would have to worry about the cost of replacing the equipment later.
Todoroki crouched at Bakugou’s side. He placed the bento box on Bakugou’s chest.
“Curry and beef.”
“I’m not hungry.” Bakugou told the ceiling.
Todoroki had expected that answer. It was the answer he had gotten all week. He did not move the bento box from Bakugou’s chest.
“You love this lab.” Todoroki said.
Bakugou remained silent.
“You love this lab, Katsuki.” Todoroki repeated, firmer.
Bakugou only sighed.
“Katsuki, look at me.”
Bakugo turned to look at him.
“I don’t want to watch you destroy the lab you love.”
“Then go.”
“No.” Todoroki said. “You should know by now that I’m not going anywhere.”
Bakugou’s eyes sharpened, if only a little.
“Is this working for you?” Todoroki asked.
Bakugou frowned, turned his gaze back to the ceiling.
“Carrying on like this,” Todoroki continued. “Is that what you want? Do you enjoy this?”
Bakugou closed his eyes. “Shut up.”
“No.”
“Shut up!”
“No.” Todoroki repeated. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m not going to shut up. But I’m not going to stay and watch you smash your equipment to pieces, either. I don’t want to see you carry on like this.”
Bakugou sighed again. He turned to look at Todoroki.
“We’re partners.” Todoroki said.
“Yes.”
“In everything.”
Bakugou nodded.
“Then we’re partners in this, too.” Todoroki said. “So, work with me. That’s all I ask.”
Todoroki extended a hand to Bakugou. Bakugou took the hand in his. Todoroki squeezed Bakugou’s hand lightly. Bakugou did not squeeze his hand back.
“Okay.” Bakugou said.
Todoroki forced himself to smile, if only a little bit.
“Let’s start small.” Todoroki said as he gestured at the bento box. “Please try to eat some dinner. I did my best to make the curry spicy for you.”
Bakugou scoffed lightly. He probably found Todoroki’s attempts at cooking amusing.
But, all Bakugou said was, “Thank you.”