Chapter Text
The Crimson Dragon was dying.
That much was obvious. It was curled in on itself, making pitiful whining noises as it unsuccessfully tried to free itself from the net that trapped its wings. Four bodies lay strewn around it, so Bakugou decided that it wasn't entirely useless, if it could fight them off while injured. Unless, of course, it had stepped into the fucking trap after beating the hunters, which was beyond the level of patheticity Bakugou could comprehend, much less consider helping.
Because yeah, he was an asshole, and yeah, he was a hunter, but he wasn't a dragon hunter. Even though the part of the world they were in now thought otherwise, dragons were respectable creatures.
Well. Most of them.
Bakugou picked his way through the foliage, boots crunching on frosted grass, and leaned down, poking through the net at the dragon’s thick belly with a twig. He squinted at it when it shuffled its head up to look at him.
Was it—was it crying?
“I didn't know you could do that,” Bakugou murmured. “Huh.” The dragon whimpered, lolling its head around in a lame attempt to get away from Bakugou, who scoffed. “I'm not going to fucking kill you, stupid dragon.”
From afar, it had been hard to tell against the deep red of its scales that it was wounded beyond the bear trap, but Bakugou figured it had to be, and looking closely, he could see a wound that traveled from its abdomen to a leg that had managed to penetrate its scales, half hidden under a wing. He supposed there must have been some kind of tendon connecting the wing and its torso, so it couldn't fly even though the former wasn't hurt.
He didn't know how to heal a dragon.
“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, squatting down and poking a tongue out in concentration as he rubbed his palms together. “If you attack me after this, I'll fucking behead you,” he hissed. The dragon—who Bakugou had creatively dubbed Crimson—seemed to nod its head, almost, but that was ridiculous. “It'll look scary to a wimpy lizard like you, but it won't hurt unless you move closer, so stay the fuck back. Other than your leg, ‘cause you know. It’s trapped and all.”
Why the fuck was he talking so much? It was a damned dragon, it didn't care.
Bakugou shook his head to clear it and placed his hands against the metal of the trap. It melted easily under his heated palms. It had taken a lot of practice to hone his skill to the point where he could heat them to the point of melting without letting any actual explosions loose.
“Better fucking appreciate this, Shitty Lizard,” he muttered, using a stick to move the metal away, wincing slightly when the melted part got too close to Crimson’s leg. It waited patiently until he nodded, deeming movement safe, and gingerly removed its leg. The net fell apart easily from a single explosion, and the dragon stepped out of it as Bakugou pulled it away, scowling and throwing it off to the side. He sat back on his haunches, waiting with an arched brow to see what the dragon would do next.
They stared at each other.
“Well?” He snapped. “Fucking go! I freed you, asshole!”
And then, incredibly, the dragon rolled its eyes. Bakugou gaped at it, hardly believing the attitude on this thing, before it flicked its tail in the air, pointing to the wound at its side.
Oh. Maybe the eye roll was well deserved.
“I forgot,” Bakugou snapped defensively. “And anyway, I can't do anything about that,” he dismissed, standing and dusting himself off with a shrug. “Figure it out, I'm not your damn mother.”
He had the unpleasant experience of watching Crimson’s eyes well. Unpleasant because of how strange it was, not because of how his heart dropped to his stomach with guilt. How did a dragon manage puppy eyes better than most mutts?
“I can't do anything,” Bakugou said again. “I don't know how to heal those wounds.”
Since when were dragons so goddamn expressive? Not that Bakugou had ever met one before, but still. It nudged its head against his boot, nostrils flaring and more tears leaking out of his eyes as it whimpered. “Fucking—fine,” Bakugou cried, exasperated. Fuck, he couldn't deal with this. “I'll find you some meat and shelter, and you can wait it out. You have magic, you should heal up quick enough.”
Crimson looked unconvinced, probably because it didn't understand a word Bakugou was saying. He sighed heavily, spinning on his heel and rummaging around his dropped pack to find the dead bird he had caught earlier. Huge red eyes blinked at him when he turned back around, flicking from him to the bird and back again. One moment Bakugou was holding it in his hand, and the next, the dragon had swooped forward, swallowing the damn thing in a single bite.
Bakugou looked speechlessly at his now empty hands, and the smacking lips of the dragon as it chewed loudly, lifting its head up with an appreciative purr. “You idiot!” He yelled, smacking its snout. “I was demonstrating! That was for me, shithead!”
Somehow, Crimson began to pout at him. It shuffled backwards, whining weakly and batting at the ground in front of it. Its wound wasn't getting any better with all this moving around, so Bakugou sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop doing that,” he said impatiently. “Stay right here. If you're in danger, roar or something, I don't fucking know, but I'm going hunting.”
It perked up at that, bobbing its head up and down in what Bakugou assumed was a nod, before tucking three legs under it, laying his head on them, and letting the injured one flop to the side. Bakugou scoffed. Lazyass.
“Alright, I'm going now. Stay right here and don't die while I'm gone. Or do, I don't care,” he grumbled. Crimson’s left eye widened slightly, probably the dragon equivalent of raising an eyebrow, so Bakugou scowled at him. “Shut the fuck up.”
He threw a stone at it petulantly and stomped away, muttering under his breath about no good dragons. It wasn't that hard to track down a deer big enough for the both of them—until Bakugou remembered how much the idiot dragon would need to eat, especially while injured. It wasn't too big, but it still needed more than a measly deer. Instead of wiping out the deer population of the area, he moved cautiously around the woods, following a wolf trail for nearly two hours before finding it, hidden away in a cave. Hm. A good cave, at that. He would have to remember the way here.
The wolf was asleep at the mouth of the shelter, and while Bakugou hated the idea of killing an animal in such a cowardly way, it was getting dark, and he needed to start soon so that he could find his way back to Crimson and come back to the save while it was still light out.
After hiding the deer and wolf corpses deep inside the cave, out of sight if anyone came through the area, Bakugou hurried back, cursing to himself as the sun continued to drop.
“Crimson!” He called, following the roar that sounded in response. “Good, at least you can follow instructions,” Bakugou grumbled, finding the dragon in the exact same spot as before, and quickly untying his cape to wrap around its wound. It blinked at him, nudging at his shoulder and making a vaguely questioning sound. “Yeah, I'll be fucking cold, but you'll die of bloodloss otherwise. Can't let that happen after all my hunting.”
After lighting a torch with his explosions, he gently tugged Crimson after him, cringing at the sight of it stumbling around on three uninjured legs. It whined, quiet and high pitched, but stubbornly kept moving, despite its obvious pain. Bakugou nodded in respect and said nothing, not wanting to make it feel pitied. He knew all too well how awful that was.
“Almost there,” he murmured, crouching down to check his markings on the trees and the dragon’s bandaging in one move. “Shit, it’s already leaking.” As long as they kept moving, its wound would continue to worsen, but the cave was the best one Bakugou had seen in days; they had to make use of it. “Almost there,” he repeated. It wasn't true; there was still half an hour at the least, but he could tell Crimson was exhausted, and it wouldn't help to worry it.
Without his cape, Bakugou was shivering. He hadn't been stupid enough to go shirtless like usual in this cold, but the fact remained that his thick, insulated cape was what kept him warm, not the couple of flimsy shirts he wore. At some point during their walk, he had moved nearly shoulder to shoulder with Crimson, who seemed content to warm him up with the heat constantly radiating from its body, but it wasn't enough. If it rained or snowed, Bakugou was over.
The dragon turned its head enough to look at him, and nuzzled against Bakugou’s arm as it expelled a puff of hot air from his mouth.
“I'm fine,” Bakugou said gruffly. “Save your damn energy, don't waste it on useless things.”
Despite his words, even he could tell that they were slowing down. The warmth from Crimson’s breath had reminded him just how cold he really was when it dissipated, leaving his joints stiff and movements jerky. Bakugou knew something was really wrong when the dragon managed to overtake him for a moment.
“Fuck,” he sighed, leaning heavily against a tree and letting his eyelids flutter closed. He was tired and hungry and cold. Whatever sense of time he had had was gone, and until they came across another marker, he had no idea when they would arrive. If they kept going at this pace, they would both die. Bakugou couldn't let that happen. Dragons were the stuff of legends, things to be worshipped, but it went deeper than that. It wasn't about dragons in general.
It was about this one. He didn't want it to die.
“Go without me,” he mumbled. “‘M slowing you down.”
The tree bark scraped the backs of his arms as he slid to his knees, flinching when the cold wetness of the grass seeped into his pants, nearly soaking them through. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to rub warmth into them before realizing his efforts were futile. Bakugou didn't want to die, but it was his own fault for not being faster, not being stronger, for stopping to help the shitty dragon in the first place.
Even so, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Better him than a creature of such caliber.
A whine jolted him out of his half asleep state. Bakugou opened his eyes to see Crimson only inches away, eyes wide and scared, almost, as they watched him. “What?” He grumbled. “‘M not built for this weather. Just…follow the markings.” It shouldn't be able to understand him, Bakugou knew that, but for whatever reason, it did. Had been since the very beginning. “I know you understand me,” he added. “Go.”
The dragon shook its head, but Bakugou was too out of it to process that. His head was swimming, black spots dancing over his vision as his body went limp and he succumbed to his exhaustion.
-
And then he woke.
Consciousness came back to him in pieces, bits of memories that gave him more questions than answers. Hadn't he died of hypothermia, and why was he warm, and what had happened to the dragon?
Bakugou cracked an eye open, finding himself staring straight into a fire, with something red obscuring half his vision where his face pressed into it. He watched the embers spark for a moment, before deciding enough was enough and he should probably get his ass up to make sure he was really and truly alive.
Moving proved to be difficult. His limbs were stiff and sore, and it took a lot of willpower to remove himself from the warmth surrounding him. As he sat upright, it became abundantly clear that it wasn't coming from the fire alone. Curled around him was Crimson, breath huffing out of its noise as it slept, tail occasionally flicking through the air. Its body blocked the wind howling from the cave entrance; it had obviously put effort into keeping Bakugou warm and alive. Bakugou’s eyes were drawn to its wound, and he was glad to see his cape hadn't been removed. Crimson wasn't dead, nor did it look to be in pain, so Bakugou relaxed, leaning against its side and shuddering at the wave of heat that rushed through him, pulsing in time with the dragon’s heartbeat.
He was alive. The damned dragon had kept him alive, had dragged his unconscious body through the forest at night, all the rest of the way to the cave. It had saved them both. Bakugou…didn't know how to feel about it. On the one hand, he was alive, which was generally a positive thing in his eyes, but on the other, he had needed the help of an injured dragon to survive. Did it really count?
Sighing in frustration, Bakugou raked a hand through his hair and looked around, eyes landing on the bodies of the deer and wolf he had caught earlier. The second he saw them, the stench hit, and his nose wrinkled instinctively. Fucking shit. He had forgotten about those.
Crimson had saved his life; the least he could do was cook the damn food so that they didn't starve, even though it probably ate its food raw, the fucking animal.
“Heh,” Bakugou chuckled at his own pun. He stood on shaky legs, stomping feeling back into them and stretching his arms behind his head, before stepping over the dragon’s tail and hauling the deer over to the fire.
After setting up the spit, Bakugou dragged a stone over and sat, studying Crimson as he spun it. With its eyes closed, it looked a lot more like the kind of Crimson Dragon Bakugou had been told about; vicious, battle hardened, and King of the Skies. This dragon…wasn’t like that. Every time it looked at Bakugou, its stare had been wide-eyed and innocent, almost. Even its sharp teeth hadn't been all that threatening when it pouted more often than it bared the incisors. With its face relaxed, it was easier to imagine it waking up and glaring at Bakugou with a furious gaze, slicing him open in an instant with its claws.
It was comical how wrong Bakugou’s imagination was.
Instead of opening its eyes and waking like a normal per—thing, it seemed to smell the meat first, nostrils flaring as it inched towards the fire, following the scent in its half-asleep state. Bakugou watched, amused, as it got a little too close and plopped its snout on the hot coals. Nearly ten seconds passed before the heat from the flames finally breached its thick scales, and when it did, Crimson’s eyes snapped open. It yelped, leaping away and whining as it batted at its nose, attempting to soothe the burn while Bakugou cackled, falling off the stone from the force of his laughs.
“You idiot!” He howled. “How do you smell the meat without waking up, huh? Ha! That was gold!”
At first, the dragon had looked betrayed at Bakugou laughing at his pain, but the next time Bakugou looked at it, it was watching him with an emotion he couldn't place. All he knew was that it was far softer than any expression a dragon should be making.
"Shut up," Bakugou growled, even though it hadn't said anything. "Deer is almost done. Sit the fuck down and stop being annoying." Crimson purred in response, circling its spot like a cat before plopping down, adjusting the cape with its tail. "Shit," Bakugou muttered. "We've got to do something about that."
The dragon tilted its head in confusion as he stood, moving the deer off the fire and making his way to his pack, contents strewn across the floor a couple feet from Crimson. It was a long shot, but he carried healing ointments with him, and they might do some good. "I didn't think about using these at first because they only work on humans," he explained. "Believe me, I've tried on some idiots I know who are decidedly not. Anyway, who fucking knows with dragons, s'not like it's been done before."
He sat cross-legged by Crimson’s side, carefully unwrapping his cape from around its body and inspecting the wound. It had stopped bleeding, so it probably wasn't too deep, but it could still get infected. Hopefully the ointment would help prevent that, and then the dragon's magic would heal it quickly. Bakugou didn't know too much about dragons or their life-force, but he knew all magic was connected to it. Every magical creature—including himself, to an extent—had healing abilities, but it took extensive training to be able to heal creatures other than oneself, and he had never cared to learn.
"This'll sting," he warned, gently wiping the dried blood away and massaging the cream around the wound as much as he could. It wasn't easy with the surrounding scales, but he managed. Just like their trek through the forest, Crimson was quiet throughout, despite Bakugou knowing it must have hurt. "Done," he declared, giving Crimson's belly a parting pat when he moved away. “It won't work immediately, if it works at all, so we might as well eat."
The dragon pulled its lips back, baring its teeth in what Bakugou knew was a poor imitation of a smile, and bumped its snout against Bakugou’s hand, who shook his head ( not fondly) and stroked a hand over its scales. “Good job,” he said softly. “I know you're probably hurting quite a bit right now, but you've been really good for me. And…I don't know how you understand me, but you do, so you should know that I'm grateful. Thank you for bringing me here.” He looked away, frustrated not at Crimson, but at himself for forcing the dragon to drag his dead weight along. “Thank you for saving me.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment, but just as Bakugou was about to pull away, Crimson nuzzled its head against his neck, purring contentedly. Bakugou let out a small laugh and scratched behind its ears, mumbling praises and promises like he used to do when he was a boy, with the stray dogs around his village. “We have to eat,” he said, gently pulling away from the dragon, who whined but nodded anyway.
Bakugou made quick work of cutting the deer, deciding to give Crimson his share before cooking his own portion any further. Lords knew the dragon needed it, if the way his eyelids drooped was any indication.
The second he laid the dragon’s share of deer in front of it, it started tearing into the meat, and Bakugou had to look away, resuming cooking his own piece.
They were mostly quiet as they ate, save for Bakugou asking if Crimson wanted the wolf now as well, to which the dragon responded with a shake of its head. “Let’s get some more sleep,” he grunted, stoking the fire. “Now that you've slept and eaten, you'll probably heal much quicker.”
Crimson watched with tired eyes as he tossed the bones outside, shivering at the chilly air before making his way back to the dragon, who uncurled its tail invitingly. Bakugou didn't hesitate to nestle beside the dragon, sighing when its body heat seeped into him. It purred one last time before wrapping its tail around Bakugou and closing its eyes, and in minutes, they were both asleep.
-
The second time Bakugou woke, something was off. The warmth that had surrounded him when he drifted off had diminished, and he found himself curling into what was left, Crimson’s body behind him, only to realize what was wrong.
The dragon’s skin was smooth. Entirely free of scales.
Bakugou shot upright, immediately launching into a defensive stance, and zeroed in on the figure who had been beside him. In Crimson’s place was a young man who couldn't have been any older than him, blinking blearily up at him and smacking his lips. His hair was bright red, and he had Bakugou’s cape wrapped around his torso and right leg. Other than that and a pair of ratty denim shorts, he was naked, which couldn't have been fun to deal with in the freezing night air.
“Who the fuck are you?” Bakugou snapped. The boy looked down at himself and gasped.
“Oh, I didn't mean to shift!” he exclaimed, then looked back up at Bakugou, grinning widely and displaying his sharp teeth. “I'm the dragon! You called me Crimson!”
“You're…what?”
“I'm a shifter,” he explained, patting the scales along his neck and jaw and flicking his tail—why did he still have a tail— in the air, as if to wave. “I must've shifted in my sleep after I finally got some of my energy back—thanks for the meat, by the way!—and because of how long it's been. My bad.”
There were a lot of things Bakugou could have said in response. He could have scoffed and accused the guy of lying, he could have kicked him out, he could have sat down and introduced himself, but Bakugou did none of that. Instead, he lowered his palms and stared at Crimson. “I didn't know shifters were real,” he said lamely.
“Of course we’re real! And just so you know, my name’s not Crimson, it’s Kirishima Eijirou!”
Kirishima Eijirou. A northerner, then. His accent sounded like Todoroki’s, and though Bakugou spied a translator attached to his belt, he switched languages to match the shifter.
“What’s your name? I can't keep calling you Blasty.”
“You've been calling me Blasty? ” Bakugou demanded, scowling. “Fucking don't. I'm Bakugou.”
“Bakugou what?”
“Doesn't fucking matter, that’s what.”
“Okay, Bakugou Doesn't-Fucking-Matter!”
“Oi!” Bakugou roared, while Kirishima started laughing hysterically at his shitty joke. “Fucking fine, stupid idiot lizard! It’s Katsuki.”
“Okay, Bakugou Doesn't-Fucking-Matter Katsuki!”
“I'll kill you,” he warned, palms popping dangerously. Kirishima wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled at him warmly.
“Okay, Bakugou. Nice to officially meet you, man, when we can talk and all! I really appreciate you helping me. I thought I was going to die.”
That last part was quiet, as if the shifter had only just realized that. Bakugou rolled his eyes and plopped back down, leaning against the wall of the cave. “‘S whatever,” he grunted. “You helped me after, so we’re even. And now I don't have to keep calling you an ‘it’ in my head when you're obviously a guy.”
“You thought of me as an ‘it’?” Kirishima asked, looking mildly offended. “Male Crimson Dragons have two horns, you know, while females have three.”
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Bakugou snarled.
“Well you knew what kind of dragon I was.”
“That’s different. I know species, but not dumb facts like that, idiot.”
“You're meaner than when I was a dragon,” Kirishima pouted.
Bakugou stiffened. “Yeah, well, it’s different when you can actually talk back to me now and say stupid shit.”
“Is it…bad?” Kirishima asked after a pause, averting his eyes and chewing on his lip nervously. “I can turn back into a dragon if you’d like! You said you didn't know shifters are real so I think it might be easier for you if we just acted like I wasn't one, and then—”
“Hey,” Bakugou interrupted. “That’s not what I meant. I don't give a shit if you're a shifter, I just thought they were myths. Never made sense to me, and I've never encountered one before.”
“Just because you haven't met one doesn't mean we aren't real!” Kirishima said defensively.
“Fucking obviously, I know you now, don't I? Besides, didn't you say you have to change back into human—or whatever weird hybrid form you're in now—every so often? You changed back in your sleep because you had gone too long without shifting, right?” Kirishima nodded. “So why the fuck would I tell you not to shift?”
“I don't know, butiwanttostaywithyouanddontwantyoutobeuncomfortable!”
Bakugou blinked. “What the fuck. Slower, idiot.”
Kirishima took a deep breath and looked off to the side before finally meeting his gaze. “I want to stay with you! Like, travel buddies or something! And I don't want you to be freaked out.”
“Eh? You're not going to be my travel buddy,” Bakugou dismissed, crossing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He didn't know why he expected the dragon to leave it at that.
“Please!” Kirishima whined, shuffling closer and poking his side. Bakugou’s eyes snapped open, and he turned on the other, ready to chew him out, but it turned out the bastard’s puppy dog eyes were even more effective in human form. He made a strangled sound, shoving Kirishima’s face away from him.
“No way!” He snapped. “I only saved you because I didn't want a dragon to die, that’s all, that doesn't mean we’re suddenly friends, got that?”
He had expected more pushback, but at his words, the shifter retreated, turning away from him and glumly making his way back over to his own spot. “I knew it,” he mumbled, so quietly that Bakugou almost didn't catch it. “Okay!” Kirishima said louder. Oh. So he hadn't intended for Bakugou to hear the first part. Whatever. He didn't care anyway.
Bakugou let him sulk for a couple minutes before sighing in annoyance and abruptly standing, planting his hands on his hips as he glared at the shifter, who stubbornly refused to look at him. “I challenge you to a duel,” he declared. Well. That certainly got the idiot’s attention.
“A duel?” he asked dubiously. “Why?”
“I want to fight you. Not in dragon form, obviously, but you should be a considerable fighter in human form as well, right?”
“I'm good, yeah,” Kirishima agreed. “What are the stakes?”
Bakugou shrugged. “If you win, I'll let you come with me, but if I win, you don't. If you want to join me you'll have to prove yourself, and that means winning the fight.”
The shifter looked at his hands for a moment, before nodding to himself. “Okay,” he said finally, and then again, this time looking at Bakugou with determination. “Okay. We’ll fight. Thank you for giving me a chance, Bakugou!”
“Tch. Whatever. It’d be stupid not to have someone like you on my side, if you've proven yourself worthy.”
Kirishima slouched, all the energy gone as he nodded. “Right,” he muttered. “A dragon.” Before Bakugou could ask what was wrong with him, he cleared his throat, looking considerably less upset than before. Bakugou couldn't tell if he was faking it or not. “Also, can you not call me Crimson? It’s not a bad name or anything, but there’s already a famous Crimson in my clan, and it feels weird to be called the same name. Maybe…Red, or something?”
“That’s the same thing,” Bakugou said irritably.
“Yeah, in meaning, but the words are different! Please?”
“Fucking whatever,” he sighed. “I don't give a shit. I'll call you Red from now on, when I'm not calling you Shitty Dragon.”
“Thank you, Bakugou!”
“Stop thanking me for dumb shit.”
Kirishima laughed, then, and began settling back down, as if to sleep. Bakugou watched with mild fascination as he circled the spot and changed positions multiple times before finding a comfortable way to sleep. He acted like a cat, but his personality was more like a dog. Strange.
"You okay?" He asked quietly. Bakugou started, realizing that he had been staring at the other for a while. Kirishima’s cheeks were dusted pink, causing Bakugou’s own to flush.
"It's nothing," he snapped. "The second you heal up, we're fighting, got it?"
"Sure thing," Kirishima agreed easily. "Aren't you going to sleep?"
It was true, Bakugou probably should. Afterall, both of them had slept fitfully, and not for long; it wasn't even morning yet. He shrugged and leaned back against the rocks. Just before he was about to close his eyes, Kirishima cleared his throat.
"You're not coming over?" He asked tentatively. "Even though I'm human I can still warm my own body up, so if you're next to me you'll be warm too! Dragon powers, you know."
"It's…nevermind," Bakugou said, shaking his head. "It's different now. Besides, we're close enough to the fire that we won't be cold, so we don't have to sleep near each other anymore."
"Okay," Kirishima whispered, tail drooping sadly. He turned his back on Bakugou and laid down quietly.
Bakugou didn't know what he had done. Obviously things were different, Kirishima was human! They couldn't cuddle like that anymore, it would be weird.
He scoffed under his breath and closed his eyes with a slight shake of his head. He didn't care if it— he— was sad anyway.