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Bakugou can’t believe the audacity of these idiots.
He can’t believe how they manhandle him away from Deku’s room, insisting that he needs to rest– seriously, who the hell do they think they are? Yeah, maybe he’s been unconscious for days and his entire body feels like lead, but who the hell do they think they are?
“Bakugou, c’mon, be reasonable,” Sero insists, practically shoving him back against his hospital bed.
Bakugou mumbles curses under his breath, but relents. These idiots are lucky he can’t put up a real fight right now. Even he knows that.
He sits on the edge of the bed, eyes darting across the room–Sero, Satou, and Mineta are in there with him. The room looks massive because of how empty it is, and he hates how it smells like antiseptic. It’s cold, too.
The first thing he asked when he woke up was Deku’s whereabouts, because the last thing he could remember was jumping in front of him. When his classmates told him that Deku was still unconscious, rage had filled him because how dare he , after all he’s done? It’s not his fault he got up and fought to get to Deku’s room after that–only to be dragged back here.
What the hell, really.
“I’m going to call a nurse,” Satou says, ducking outside. The annoying one–Mineta–is rambling on about how the rest of their class is in Todoroki’s room since he had just woken up, too. While Mineta rambles on, Sero texts someone on his phone.
“What about everyone else,” Bakugou grumbles.
“Aizawa-sensei lost his leg,” Mineta sniffs. “And… Midnight…”
Bakugou’s blood instantly runs cold when he finds out about Midnight. Mineta continues to talk about what happened to everyone, and Bakugou’s relieved that there’s a certain shitty-haired idiot that isn’t mentioned among those confined in the hospital. Which means he’s okay.
Still… Deku’s unconscious. Half-and-Half’s not doing great, too. Aizawa-sensei lost a leg. And Midnight...
He’s stronger than this–he really is.
There’s no fucking way he’s going to grab his pillow and scream into it, especially not in front of Sero and Mineta–and Satou, who’s just returned with a nurse in tow. It’s a lot of information to take in and he feels like vomiting, and his vision is blurry.
Of course, he blames it on the massive pain in his torso where he had been fucking stabbed.
The nurse insists that he lay back, which he does–it’s unnerving to get examined this way while his classmates watch. When the nurse presses the stethoscope against him, it’s chilly even through the bandages.
The door opens and Bakugou spots a flash of red. Despite his view being blocked, he can tell it’s Kirishima.
“Did you run here?” Satou asks, incredulous.
“O-oh…” Kirishima exhales. The nurse moves her arm and Bakugou sees Kirishima panting as if he’s just run a marathon, face red as he catches his breath. “Well… yeah. Rushed over… when... I got Sero’s text.”
Bakugou’s heart does a funny thing, at that. He scowls at the nurse when she blinks at him for a second, her stethoscope still resting on his chest. She gives him an odd look before adjusting the stethoscope, and if she says anything about how his heart sped up he might just jump out the window.
Sero rolls his eyes. “Dude, you didn’t have to run.”
With a soft laugh, Kirishima ignores Sero and walks over to Bakugou’s bedside. He grins at him, eyes bright and way too happy despite the atmosphere.
There are bandages wrapped around his hand and one on his cheek. The bags under his eyes look horrible and his hair is messier than it usually is, as if he didn’t bother to spend an eternity on it today. He looks different… tired. Bakugou frowns, staring back at him with pursed lips. From the way Kirishima’s smile breaks for a second, he clearly notices Bakugou scrutinizing him.
“Vitals are good,” the nurse says. “I’ll inform your doctors. Please don’t move around a lot–stay in bed as much as possible.”
“Fucking great,” Bakugou grumbles.
Kirishima says, “Bakugou, don’t be rude!” It’s obvious that he doesn’t care all that much, though–especially with how he’s beaming.
“We’re leaving,” Sero says.
Sero, Mineta, and Satou make their way out–and Kirishima doesn’t budge, thank god.
“See you!” Kirishima says to them, cheerily.
The others don’t seem to question the fact that Kirishima’s not leaving with them. In fact, it’s as if they expected it–as if they had waited for Kirishima to get here before they left Bakugou to get more rest. Bakugou’s thankful for it, because he doesn’t think he can spend a minute more with them. He knows they mean well, but he’d rather not have to speak to anyone right now.
Except for Kirishima, maybe.
“You look like shit,” Bakugou grits. He makes a move to sit up, only to be nudged back by Kirishima. Disgruntled, he lies back–as demanded.
“You look worse,” counters Kirishima.
He doesn’t have an answer for that.
Kirishima pulls over a chair and leans his arms on the edge of Bakugou’s bed–Bakugou should feel uncomfortable and vulnerable like this, laying back with bandages and bruises, all his weaknesses exposed, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care about that at all. Instead, Kirishima talks about how Todoroki’s throat is burnt and how he can’t talk… and how awkward it was when his family arrived.
“His sister’s pretty!” Kirishima says, eyes wide. “I can see why you have a crush on her!”
“Wha?” Bakugou splutters uselessly. He makes a move to grab Kirishima by the throat and strangle him, but Kirishima laughs and practically wrestles his hand away. Lucky jerk. Any other day, and Bakugou would have been able to murder him. “I don’t have a damn crush on Half-and-Half’s sister!”
“But you were talking so much about her mapo tofu from that one time you had dinner at their place!”
“Because I like mapo tofu, asshole!”
Kirishima laughs again–the idiot–and Bakugou fights down the fierce blush that spreads across his face because what the fuck? Why is Shitty Hair teasing him about something so stupid now, of all times? God, Kirishima looks so pleased with himself. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and he almost doubles over in laughter, and Bakugou can’t say he hates it.
“Speaking of family,” says Kirishima. “They banned your parents from the hospital.”
“Heh?”
“Yeah… your mom got super pissed when they couldn’t tell her when you’d wake up and kind-of yelled at your doctor,” says Kirishima, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Which was… okay, I guess, but then when the doctor told her to calm down, they got into an argument and she almost socked him in the throat. So they kicked her out. It was wild.”
Bakugou can’t help but wheeze. “What the fuck...”
Shit, sounds like her, though.
Kirishima continues, “And… damn, I guess your dad was angry? Or nervous? Because he asked the doctor not to talk to your mom that way and accidentally blasted the drink he was holding, so they kicked him out too. Thought he was threatening them, but I think he was just nervous.”
“...Maybe.” Honestly, his dad’s pretty calm but can get pretty protective for his family. He could have done it on purpose for all Bakugou knows.
“So you’re stuck with me,” grins Kirishima proudly. “They asked me to look after you! Don’t worry, I’ve texted them and told them you’re up!”
Bakugou blinks. “You’ve been sleeping here?”
“Yep!”
With a quick glance around the room, it’s only then that Bakugou notices that Kirishima’s backpack is resting on a small sofa bed.
Why didn’t he realize that sooner?
“You can go home,” Bakugou mumbles, avoiding his stare. “You don’t need to babysit me.”
“I’m not–Bakugou, I want to be here.”
There it is again, the weird fluttering sensation within him. The same sensation that made the nurse look at him strangely and linger just a second longer than needed when listening to his chest, because Kirishima makes his heartbeat do stupid things. It should be illegal, really–Kirishima shouldn’t be allowed to look at him that way. Bakugou bites his cheek and fixes his gaze on Kirishima, sees him wide-eyed and brimming with genuine concern for him.
Bakugou doesn’t know what to do with it.
So he shuts up–just frowns and lays back again, fighting the urge to turn and bury his face in the pillow so he doesn’t have to deal with all these damn emotions.
“I can leave for a while,” Kirishima says, softly. “I can go hang out with Kaminari and the others, give you some time to yourself.”
Bakugou swallows. Fuck. Fuck. Why does Kirishima sound like that, as if he’s worried? Why does he sound like he cares so much? Bakugou doesn’t know what to do with it because it’s too much.
Kirishima asks, “Bakugou?”
“You can stay. It’s whatever.”
Without waiting for a response, Bakugou gives up and turns away–just shifts to his side, away from Kirishima, and presses his cheek against the pillow. He can practically feel Kirishima staring at his back, silent.
He hasn’t seen his torso, but there’s a dull pain that runs through him. It’s as if they healed him just to where he can move around, but that his body is still catching up and fixing himself. He feels heavy, unsure if there’s medication in him that’s causing it.
And… the news, everything. About Deku, Aizawa, Midnight. Even Half-and-Half.
It kind-of feels like that time back in Kamino when everything had died down, and the police had taken him to the hospital, and it was in the aftermath that he realized just how miserable and helpless he truly felt.
He doesn’t speak, and neither does Kirishima. He feels like a child right now, turning away and refusing to look at his friend. Bakugou wonders if Kirishima can keep up just sitting there, or if he’ll lose his patience with Bakugou’s attitude and get up and leave.
Bakugou flinches when he feels something against the side of his head, just above his ear, light and tentative, and he realizes it’s Kirishima’s hand. He exhales and releases the tension from his shoulders because it’s just Kirishima, and even if he’ll never admit it–Kirishima’s allowed to touch him, like this. As if understanding, Kirishima runs his fingers through Bakugou’s hair, softly. He scrapes Bakugou’s scalp with the tips of his fingers as if he’s a damn cat, but Bakugou lets his eyes flutter close, anyway.
Kirishima says, quietly, “Bakugou… you know you did good, right?”
Fuck. Bakugou practically curls into himself, because how dare he? How dare Kirishima say the words that he didn’t know he had to hear? Fucking… what right did he have, just blurting out shit like that?
Bakugou scowls, turning around too fast and ignoring the pain that courses through him. He glares at Kirishima, and if his eyes are red, Kirishima says nothing about it. Kirishima looks at him, expression soft, and it only makes Bakugou want to lash out even more because it’s the only thing he knows.
Kirishima doesn’t miss a beat. He says, “You did so good. We’re all so damn proud of you–”
“Shut up. Shut up.”
“–risking your life for Midoriya? Bakugou… you’re fucking amazing.”
Bakugou grits his teeth and clenches his fists, and he’s just about to throw a punch when Kirishima leans up and practically squeezes the life out of him; he embraces Bakugou so tightly that he almost gasps for air. Kirishima climbs unto the bed–stupid dirty shoes and all–and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s shoulders. There’s a firm hand on the back of Bakugou’s nape that pulls him close–
–and it’s warm and different, and Bakugou deflates under his hold. He mumbles a curse under his breath and presses his face against Kirishima’s shoulder.
Kirishima is sunshine personified, and he brings a strange comfort to Bakugou’s life without even trying.
It’s unfair how he’s able to bludgeon down all of Bakugou’s barriers that easily.
“Get your fucking shoes off if you’re staying on my bed, you animal,” Bakugou grits.
“O-oh… yeah, of course.”
Kirishima pulls away for a second to kick his shoes off. The bed is too small for them, but they make it work. Bakugou doesn’t understand what’s going on, really, yet he lets it happen. Kirishima lies beside him and grabs him again, pulling him close and snug. Bakugou closes his eyes and breathes steadily, forehead firm against Kirishima’s collarbone. Gently, Kirishima pillows Bakugou’s head with one arm, and then he reaches up with his free hand and thumbs along Bakugou’s cheek.
“Does it hurt?” Kirishima asks, talking about his injury.
“Manageable.”
Kirishima gives a sigh of relief, and then there are fingers stroking Bakugou’s hair as if he couldn’t bite them off if he wanted to.
“Deku might die,” Bakugou mumbles, voice raw, his words muffled against Kirishima’s shirt.
“He won’t. We'll all be okay.”
Kirishima noses against his temple, his breath so close to Bakugou’s ear that Bakugou can hear it–it’s slow and even, as if he couldn’t be any more relaxed at the moment.
It’s strange how Bakugou’s heart isn’t racing right now; instead, he feels steady. Stabilized. As if Kirishima fixed it all just by holding him as firm as he can.
Weird.
He pushes the entire world away and yet Kirishima is still there–he’s always there. He’s loud and cheerful and he talks too much, and Bakugou should hate that, but he doesn’t. There’s probably something to be said about this, about how he’s laying in bed with his best friend–how it calms his heart down. It’s a lot to unpack, and he tucks away the thought for later.
There are fingers running through his hair, warm breaths against his temple; and if he shifts his head just a bit he can press his ear against Kirishima’s chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart, so he does just that. Bakugou allows himself to relax, because he deserves at least that… right?
Even if he’s been unconscious for days, his body wants more sleep–and with Kirishima holding him like this, it happens against his will.
Bakugou’s not sure how long, how much time has passed, but he slowly stirs awake to the sound of the door opening and the feeling of Kirishima shifting to look at who’s arrived.
His eyelids feel heavy as hell; Kirishima’s arm is still pillowing his head. He’s stopped stroking Bakugou’s hair, but his other hand is resting on Bakugou’s hip. It’s clear that he’s doing his best not to move too much because of how he thinks Bakugou’s in deep sleep, and Bakugou doesn’t have it in him to open his eyes and pull away.
“Can you come back later?” Kirishima asks the new person, voice soft. With how Bakugou has his ear pressed against his chest, it sounds like a deep rumble.
It’s Kaminari. “Kirishima, you gotta rest.”
“I was resting, man.”
“Oh, quit lying. I saw you responding to Ashido’s texts, like, three minutes ago.”
At that, Kirishima tenses. His entire body goes taut and Bakugou can practically feel the discomfort that radiates from him.
“I’ll rest!” Kirishima insists. “Here, I’m shutting my phone off now, see?”
“Nice try–you said the same thing last night!”
… Bakugou has half the mind to sit up and tell Kaminari to quit hounding him, when he realizes–
Kaminari can see them damn cuddling .
He can see both of them entangled in each other’s limbs on a too-small bed, and he’s speaking with Kirishima as if Kirishima isn’t currently holding him close. On the bed. With their limbs entangled. With Bakugou’s face pressed against Kirishima’s chest.
What the fuck.
Kirishima glances down at him when he bristles. Gritting his teeth, Bakugou makes a move to push him away because no way is he going to let Kaminari have a second more to see them in such an incriminating position–but Kirishima holds him even firmer, refuses to let go. Bakugou’s close to complaining when Kirishima says, simply, “Denki, I’m good, I swear.”
There’s something in how he says it that makes Bakugou stop struggling.
“Alright,” concedes Kaminari. The door opens again and Kaminari’s on his way. Right before he shuts it, he calls out, “Love you both, man!”
Kirishima wheezes at the same time that Bakugou flusters, because what the hell? “Same!” Kirishima chirps, as if he didn’t sound as down as he was five seconds ago. The door finally closes, and Bakugou pushes Kirishima away and stares at him with huge, baffled eyes.
“What, it’s manly to tell your friends you love them!” Kirishima grins.
“That’s not–ugh. Shut up.”
Kirishima ignores his blush and his outbursts, pulling away and making a show of stretching the arm that had been under Bakugou’s head. Glancing around, Bakugou can see that it’s already dark outside. He wonders if it’d be shitty of him to make Kirishima get up and shut off the too-bright fluorescent lights, just because he doesn’t want to move. “You’re finally awake. You were killing my arm! Oh my god, that feels good.”
Bakugou glares at him in bafflement. He’s complaining now, when just a while ago he had refused to let Bakugou pull away? This idiot.
Still, there are better things to deal with right now.
Bakugou spits out, “When’s the last time you got a good night’s sleep.”
Blinking, Kirishima smiles wryly and refuses to meet Bakugou’s eyes. He turns to lie on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “Uh... I don’t know. Three days ago?”
That’s right before the war started. Kirishima hasn’t slept since then.
“Kirishima, what the fuck!?” Bakugou hisses.
“Mm. Yeah, I know.” He continues to stare at the ceiling. “Kaminari’s been bugging me about it.”
“What’s going on? Why can’t you sleep?”
“Hmm…”
Bakugou can tell he doesn’t want to talk about this. Kirishima twists the bottom of his shirt with a hand, anxiously. He has the fakest smile that Bakugou’s ever seen, and it makes Bakugou’s stomach churn with anxiety.
“Kirishima,” Bakugou says.
Quietly, Kirishima responds, “My mind won’t shut up.”
Bakugou gets it.
He doesn’t know what happened–and he doesn’t think it’s the right moment to ask. If Kirishima wanted to talk about it, he would. One thing’s for sure–something happened during the war, something that’s weighing heavy enough on Kirishima’s mind that he can’t even sleep.
Bakugou doesn’t like it, not one bit.
He hates seeing Kirishima this way, quiet and with enormous dark circles under his eyes. His roots are showing, and Bakugou knows well enough that only means he doesn’t care about much at the moment.
All this time, Bakugou’s been thinking about himself–he took Kirishima’s help without realizing that his friend needs him just as much.
His brain’s still fuzzy–what the hell did they put in his medicine–and he musters up all the energy left in him to place a palm on Kirishima’s side and nudge him close. “C’mere, Shitty Hair.”
Kirishima’s eyes widen for a second; he lets Bakugou pull him close. Bakugou wraps his arms around Kirishima’s neck and presses his nose against his soft hair. Just like that, Kirishima practically curls into him and the roles are reversed–Kirishima lets out an exhale, and Bakugou bristles despite the warmth of his breath on his neck.
Bakugou isn’t like Kirishima. He’s not good with words. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better for him–so instead he simply holds him. Kirishima deflates, the tension leaving his shoulders.
“Midnight died in front of us,” Kirishima whispers.
Fuck.
“I mean, it was a war… it’s not like I expected it to be a field trip to the amusement park,” Kirishima says, words muffled against Bakugou’s neck. “Still… every time I close my eyes, or every time I don’t distract myself, it’s all I see.”
Bakugou holds him even tighter, at that. He doesn’t know what to say, but thankfully Kirishima gets that about him. He rubs a thumb against Kirishima’s temple and strokes his hair the same way Kirishima did it, and he feels Kirishima sighs against his skin.
Kirishima hums, “Man, I like that.”
“Shut up and sleep.”
He almost expects Kirishima to put up a fight–instead, Kirishima stifles a laugh and then stays silent, just lets Bakugou hold him this way.
Bakugou pulls away just enough to get a good look at Kirishima. Kirishima’s eyes are closed and his lips are curled into a slight smile. Bakugou can clearly tell he’s still awake. It’s as if he’s not even trying. Still, he looks less tense than before, which is a good thing–and Bakugou stares at him, at how his hair is falling around his face. At how thick his eyelashes are. At the scar above his eyelid.
He doesn’t know what possesses him when he presses his lips against Kirishima’s scar, light and fleeting, that it almost doesn’t count.
Bakugou freezes when he realizes what he’s done. Kirishima opens his eyes and blinks at Bakugou, an indescribable expression spreading across his features–and Bakugou feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment, because what the hell did he just do?
Kirishima stares at him, then he grins, slowly. He lets out a chuckle that makes Bakugou feel even more embarrassed. The corners of Kirishima’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and a light blush spreads across his cheeks. For a moment, Kirishima grins as if his mind has shut up about everything else.
Dammit.
The way Kirishima looks at Bakugou–it always turns his thoughts into static. It’s always full of genuine adoration. Despite the situation, despite everything that’s happened, he’s still able to look at Bakugou as if Bakugou could give him the world.
Bakugou doesn’t have enough time to think about how he should feel about that, because suddenly Kirishima holds him by the cheek and leans in and presses their lips together. Without even asking.
Kirishima’s lips are soft–he kisses Bakugou tenderly, fingers curling around Bakugou’s jaw. Bakugou feels entirely out of his element as he kisses him back. They’re no good at this, by any means. It takes a while to figure out exactly how they should angle their heads so their noses don’t bump, and Bakugou shivers when he feels sharp teeth against his lower lip.
Despite how slow and deliberate they move, Bakugou’s heart soars. His chest feels full, his mind going a million different directions, and he feels as if a fire’s ignited.
He’s kissing Kirishima.
He’ll never admit it but he’s thought of this before–plenty of times. He’s thought of during lazy afternoons when they hang out in their rooms and Kirishima’s just an arm’s length away–and he’s thought of it, too, when they’re training and Kirishima makes that obnoxious laugh of his when he wins a spar.
“Hey,” Kirishima says, and he’s smiling against Bakugou’s lips. “Thanks.”
Bakugou snorts and pulls away. “You can’t seriously be thanking me for kissing you.”
Laughing, Kirishima says, “No, I meant thanks for being here! And… well, yeah, thanks for kissin–”
His words get cut off when Bakugou snarls and plants a hand across his face. He doesn’t want to hear anything else, knowing it’s going to be ridiculous. Kirishima laughs again and then bites down on his palm. Sharp teeth prickles his skin and it tickles more than anything else, yet Bakugou growls at him all the same.
Kirishima pulls his hand down and kisses him, again. He dives right in and presses his lips against Bakugou’s, with more force this time. Bakugou gasps in surprise; the moment his lips part, Kirishima takes that as an opportunity to swipe his tongue and coax him to open his mouth.
Cocky dumbass.
Not one to back down, Bakugou lets him. He kisses Kirishima back, open-mouthed, and he can practically hear his heartbeat in his ears. Kirishima grips him by the hair; he says his name against his lips, and Bakugou’s heart soars.
Is this bad? To make out despite everything else? He’d think he’s taking advantage of Kirishima’s vulnerability if he didn’t know that Kirishima wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to–as kind as Kirishima was, Bakugou knows that much about him.
Kirishima needs this. They both do.
Bakugou almost feels bad for stopping.
He grunts and pulls away. He finds it cute how Kirishima chases after his lips, and Bakugou puts a hand against Kirishima’s forehead and keeps him away. Kirishima pouts at him and it makes Bakugou want to dive right back in, but no.
“Sleep,” hisses Bakugou.
Kirishima chews his lower lip, disappointed. “I can try.”
“No trying. Sleep.”
“Aww,” Kirishima whines.
Scowling, Bakugou pulls Kirishima close again, presses Kirishima’s face against his neck, and decides they can talk about everything else later. He can’t help but grin against Kirishima’s hair, and he realizes that for a good few minutes there he had forgotten about anything else. About the pain in his torso, about the noisy thoughts in his mind–and Kirishima’s, too.
Bakugou ends up drifting off to sleep, again.
When he wakes up, the room’s completely dark (later, he finds out that Kaminari came back and shut the lights for them). His arm’s numb from where Kirishima’s sleeping on it–and yeah, Kirishima’s asleep. Finally.
“Take that, Pikachu,” Bakugou grumbles–because apparently, in the last three days, nobody could figure out how to get Kirishima to sleep. Really, Bakugou loses consciousness and everything goes to shit. The dumbasses.
Bakugou gives a sigh of relief and snakes his arm away, doing his best to sit up without stirring Kirishima. His throat’s parched, and thankfully someone left a bottle of water on the bedside table.
He blinks at Kirishima, sees how calm he looks as his chest rises and falls in a slow motion.
God, they’re going to have to talk about how they made out, aren’t they?
Honestly, there’s so much to unpack.
He lies back down on the bed and wraps his arms around Kirishima again, and Kirishima makes a soft humming sound as he nuzzles closer. Bakugou decides that all the thinking can come later, though–it’s whatever. They'll be okay. Kirishima said so himself.