Chapter Text
Something is wrong.
The dark bedroom is dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the window. A couple of cars can be heard driving by, but otherwise it's quiet. There's no noise outside the room. It must be late.
Todoroki has stuffed a thick blanket around himself and even pulled out winter socks that he's never had to use because he simply doesn't get cold. He doesn't. But now he is.
Yes, something is wrong. He twists his neck and glances at the alarm clock resting on the nightstand. There's a red blur for numbers and he squints his eyes, but the blur is stubborn, glaring back.
He needs something hot. Maybe that would fix everything; the faint itch in his throat and slightly clammy hands. Hopefully, after that, sleep would eventually creep under his door, slither up the legs of the bed, and join him in his sheets. He slowly gets out of his room and makes sure to tread through the hallway with his heels planted first. Thankfully, his socks help make a soft landing anyway.
Todoroki fills the glass kettle with water and plugs it into the outlet, before picking out a cup. The need to be stealthy challenges his body. It feels like he's made of liquid. If he thinks too loud, he'll summon the whole academy. If he breathes too loud, maybe a certain angry blond will probably blast him to death (and that may not even be as bad as this).
There's something with claws crawling up his spine and the sensation makes his mouth open with a loud gasp. He gulps, desperate for air, but it just makes it worse, knuckles white as they clutch the kitchen counter.
If he moves a centimeter—No, a millimeter of his body, he'll set it off again—whatever that was—So, he stays there, hunched over with his eyes shut.
"Halfie? Are you dying or something?"
Bakugou. The sound of the water boiling must have drowned out his footsteps. "Shit, you're acting creepy."
Todoroki turns to face him and his body feels so heavy he thinks he's okay with falling to the floor and never moving again. Finally, he opens his eyes to find Bakugou standing by the door frame, watching him with furrowed brows. He tries to speak but loudly groans as the pain returns, causing Bakugou to immediately scramble to his side.
"Seriously, do I need to get someone?" He offers, voice laced with something Todoroki can't place. Bakugou's hands reach for his tense arms and it feels warm, so warm and so good. He wants his hands to stay there but Bakugou quickly flinches away. "What the fuck Halfie, why are you so damn cold?"
Yes, he's cold, so incredibly cold and so glad that Bakugou isn't because now he has a way to prevent himself from freezing to death. He places his hands all over Bakugou's arms, desperately chasing the warmth and the blond hisses. "Sorry, you're just so warm. Let me do this for one second. Just one."
"You literally feel like fucking Elsa froze you over. I'm normal." Then he waits for a few seconds, barely ten, before he huffs and pushes Todoroki's hands off. "Seriously, the fuck is wrong with you? Are you sick?"
Todoroki pauses. The last time he got sick was when he was a child and he can't remember much about that. Do people long to wrap their arms around Bakugou for warmth when they're sick?
"I'm fine."
Bakugou looks at the clock on the wall and scrunches his nose. It's almost two in the morning. He shouldn't even be here. He came down for a cup of water and ended up with a babysitting job. His eyes move back to Todoroki, who is shivering so intensely someone walking in could mistake it for a seizure.
I'm fine, my ass.
The glass kettle automatically stops boiling water before beeping three times, grabbing their attention. Bakugou silently glances at it then at him, eyebrow raised.
"Uh—Tea. I was making tea." He clears his throat, "Because I was cold. I mean, still cold. And my throat. Yeah."
Bakugou nods, "Uh-huh. And you're definitely not sick."
Todoroki tilts his head. Is he mocking him?
"Just finish making your tea."
Oh. Of course Todoroki can make his tea, why would he do it for him, he's probably going to go back to his room to sleep and—
"I'll go get the stupid medicine. Try not to turn into a block of ice in that time, alright, Halfie?"
He opens his mouth to answer but Bakugou's already out of the kitchen, scratching the back of his head and mumbling dumbass and idiot can't take care of himself for shit.
Todoroki places a teabag in the cup. Surely it's rude if he doesn't make tea for Bakugou too, right? He retrieves another cup and bag before pouring the hot water in both. His hands wrap around it and the heat envelopes him with open arms. It feels good.
Shortly after, Bakugou enters the kitchen and joins Todoroki at one of the tables. He places three pills down.
"Here, this one's for your sore throat. Or whatever you said." He points at the smallest one then moves to another. "That's for headaches. Last one's for fever."
Todoroki peels his mouth off his cup but Bakugou beats him. "You are sick. Stop being fucking stubborn. You look half dead."
He shuts his mouth. "Okay." Then he gestures to the cup near the blond. "Tea. For you."
Bakugou stares at him, at the cup, then back at him and Todoroki thinks in a moment his hair is going to be drenched with hot tea and maybe a new burn with a couple of glass shards to compliment it, but Bakugou just picks up the cup and slowly sips.
The pills are swallowed with one last gulp of the hot beverage.
He stands on weak legs and there must have been an earthquake because the whole world shakes and he's free-falling, but not really, because Bakugou's at his side in seconds, grip on his hips.
"Shit, you can't even walk straight, what a fucking moron. What kind of fever's got you on the brink of death?"
"I'm not dying." The fabric of his sweatpants is not thin enough to let the warmth from Bakugou's hand to transfer through and he doesn't like it. He wants to put his hands on Bakugou's bare arms again but he can't, not when he's holding the stupid, annoying teacup that's preventing him from Bakugou's warmth.
It takes so much effort. So much effort to drag his legs across the floor to place the now empty cup in the sink, but Bakugou's hands stay supporting him through it, wrapped around his waist.
Maybe Bakugou is using his quirk, because it's actually getting hot. Can Bakugou even control it that much to the point where his palms are hot without creating a blast?
Probably not. And the warmth... He doesn't feel it on his waist, where Bakugou's hold on him is. So. So he's on fire. He's on fire. It's his quirk.
With a gasp, he halts and checks, surveying both sides with widened eyes because he can't tell anymore which side is supposed to be which. He really can't.
"What?" Bakugou urges, hands still on his waist—No, on his stupid sweatpants that cover it—and he's searching with him, not sure for what, but searching. "What?"
"My skin. It's too cold, I'm burning. I'm burning." Todoroki thinks the earthquake that shook him from his core makes him imagine it, but Bakugou's face softens for a moment before hardening with something else.
"For fuck's sake. Okay. Okay." He starts to lead them out of the kitchen, "You can come with me. Don't worry. I'll warm you up or whatever."
Todoroki wants to ask how he would do such a thing, that he should sleep and doesn't want to keep him up more but they're already in the hallway of the rooms and he doesn't want to create a ruckus in case Bakugou decides to let off a stream of loud curses to shut his questions down.
Bakugou closes the door once they're inside and watches Todoroki who shivers as he stands, before digging through the closet. Todoroki's eyes scan the room.
It's surprisingly neat, except for the bed with two pillows and wrinkled sheets. He's never been in here. Hell, he's never exchanged this many words with Bakugou that don't end up with him getting blasted. So, yes, he takes a good look and wonders if he'll live to tell the tale.
Something is thrown at him. "Here. Wear that. It's warmer than the fucking shirt you're wearing." Then Bakugou goes to the bed to set it up, back facing him, but he guesses it's his cue to change in privacy.
It's a Dynamight hoodie. He slips it on without taking off his shirt and it's not too tight or loose, despite the layer under it already. It's perfect.
Bakugou is laying on the outside of the bed. Was he expected to get on the bed? Maybe the floor? Maybe he was invited in here to take the hoodie and leave?
"Are you fucking coming?"
Okay, so he's staying. That answers a couple of questions but creates even more. Is he expected to sleep here? Or is it like a I'll-warm-you-up-then-you-go-to-your-room-to-sleep situation?
He turns his full attention to Todoroki who is still standing at the entryway but quickly climbs to his spot, body tense between the wall and Bakugou. How is he supposed to leave without waking him up in this sleeping arrangement?
"What the fuck is wrong with you, dumbass? I thought you wanted to warm up, why are you so fucking far away?"
"Oh. Sorry."
Bakugou waits.
"Well don't just say that, fucking come—" He stops and scoots to Todoroki instead, wrapping his arm around him to pull him close until their chests touch.
Except they aren't. Todoroki can't feel anything other than the faint heat from their legs tangled together and the thick blanket that's provided by the academy for winter. (He thought Bakugou said his temperature is normal, so isn't this too warm for him to sleep in?)
"Can't feel you," He finally whispers and the faint sound of Bakugou breathing stops. "Need you to touch me. Please."
He's harshly pushed away so Bakugou can look at him, his gaze frantically travelling from Todoroki's face to the Dynamight hoodie he's wearing and back up again. "You can't just say dumb shit like that, you fucking idiot."
Todoroki furrows his eyebrows, ready to apologize again out of fear that the blond would kick him out and leave him to freeze if he utters a sassy response. But, it seems like Bakugou's still being... helpful, as if hit by a quirk or something (or maybe it's the fact that it's past two in the morning, and they're both beyond exhausted), because he forcibly flips him around so that they're chest-to-back. Todoroki stares at his only view now, a white wall that he's sure could turn into more things if he stares hard enough, and waits.
Eventually, a hand slowly slips underneath his (is it really?) hoodie, then when it feels an extra shirt, it slips under that too, gently wrapping around his stomach to bring him closer. The hand is shaking, barely, but it is and Todoroki wonders why Bakugou would be.
It's so warm. It's so warm and so good and for some reason, he can hear his heart beating in his head so loud and fast, he wonders if Bakugou can hear it too.
He feels a nose bury itself in the back of his neck, feels the slight vibration of the bed due to his shivering, feels the heat spread throughout his body, and it all lulls him to sleep.
♡ ♡ ♡
The blanket is kicked to his feet. The thickness of the Dynamight hoodie no longer envelops his aching muscles, instead, his shirt clings to his damp skin. There is something cold on his forehead but everything else is so hot he thinks he's melting. Is he bleeding? He reaches to feel, but a hand grips his wrist.
"Don't take that off." Bakugou. Yes, he's still in Bakugou's room. Todoroki looks over at the boy sitting criss-cross right next to him on the bed with a bowl of water and ice.
"What—" He starts, but it comes out rough and his mouth is so dry he thinks he could drink the oceans and it wouldn't improve. He clears his throat. "What's happening?"
"Your hot side is taking over now. I don't fucking know. I think they need to overwhelm you like that for you to ride it out." He explains then lifts a wet rag from the bowl, and Todoroki guesses that's the thing on his forehead too before Bakugou lifts his shirt and drags the rag all over his torso.
He gasps, instinctively attempting to shove Bakugou's hand away (something he never would have considered a few hours ago), but Bakugou's motions are firm and Todoroki can do nothing except lay there and deal with the shock.
"I know, I know. I'm trying to get your fucking body temperature down, alright?" Bakugou quietly shushes him, continuing as he ignores the hands trying to halt his. "I fucking— I fucking thought the room was on fire. You're th... I took the hoodie off and the socks but—but obviously left the sweatpants on."
Todoroki folds his legs to his chest to be able to reach, but his muscles throb and he quickly drops his legs, shaking his head. "Can't. You do it."
Bakugou stills for a moment but then just grumbles. "Fucking bossy. Alright then."
He leaves the cold rag and makes his way to Todoroki's feet, dragging his knees across the bed. When he reaches, he hooks his fingers around the band of sweatpants.
"Lift," He orders and Todoroki quickly obeys despite the ache, and it does something, does a lot of things to Bakugou. He yanks the pants off and tosses them somewhere before grabbing the shorts he placed aside for him, but Todoroki sees and shakes his head again.
"No. No, too hot, too hot." It comes out as a quick, rushed slur of words and Bakugou wants to argue that they're just shorts, but Todoroki's knitted eyebrows and flushed cheeks shut him up.
"Shit. Shit, okay, fine." He tosses the shorts too. Okay. Todoroki is in his bed. In his bed with only boxers and a t-shirt that's more than halfway off and while he tries not to think about it too much, the source is right in front of him and he can't be blamed for his train of thought because he's a man before he's a hero, or friend, or whatever.
Bakugou's seated next to him again and starts dipping both rags back into the bowl. The wet trail of where they were on Todoroki's body leaves him more sensitive to the cool air the fan is emitting, helping him relax. There's not much time to enjoy it though because the rags are on him again and it's dragging and dragging and Todoroki tries to calm his breathing. He predicts he could get through this fairly easily considering his high pain tolerance, but he doesn't know what to expect of his body that hasn't been acting normal these past few hours.
Everything is too much and far from too little, like the rough piece stroking his chest, neck, arms—and suddenly this feels too intimate, Bakugou's focused stare on his flushed body while he tries to wet every patch, Bakugou tending to him, Todoroki heaving and panting in the room, and Bakugou tending to him.
Intimate. Yes, Todoroki is sure the definition would involve this exact moment, the feel of the pair of hands running all over him, pulling him from the fever, grounding him from the daze he's under. There's a flutter in his stomach that makes him want to vomit for however long it would take for his heart to spill out of his body and give it to Bakugou. He would give it and say, you took care of me. Thank you. Thank you.
Todoroki observes him, notes the way he's slightly biting his bottom lip, his tense shoulders. The faint dark red under his eyes. He must be tired. And Bakugou usually wakes up in a few hours to run, too.
It's only when he's dabbing at his neck that he realizes Todoroki's looking at him.
He pauses. "What?"
That's difficult to answer. There are so many thoughts and emotions bouncing from Todoroki's mind, his throat, to the bottom of his stomach and maybe even further down. He's not sure what all of it means. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, doesn't want to say too much or too little.
"Thank you."
For a few seconds, Bakugou only stares at his eyes, his nose then lingers on his lips. He dips the cloths again.
"Shut the hell up. I just didn't want you to fucking die from the heat. Or the cold. You're so fucking dumb you can't even choose your cause of death." He lays out one rag on his forehead and the other on his chest and this time Todoroki learns to hold his breath before slowly letting it out. "It would be fucking bad for the academy, you know? Todoroki Shouto Dies in UA's Custody From Fever. I can already see the headlines and the chaos."
The corners of Todoroki's mouth curve and it must have been a good thing for Bakugou, because he looks at him and grins, really grins. He puts away the bowl then finally lays next to him again.
"Leave them like that and go to sleep. If I see you took them off, you can forget the fever, I'll fucking kill you myself."
He wants to say that doesn't make sense, that Shouto Murdered By Dynamight on UA Ground sounds worse but he doesn't want to argue so he nods.
"Okay."
A significant space separates him from Bakugou now, who completely turns away from him. He contemplates laying on his side and scooting closer, though the cloths would slip off that way.
Needles are pricking his fingertips, his feet and the pit of his stomach but he's not sure how they would ever get in there. He's not sure why. He doesn't like this, thinks maybe skin contact from the blond would fix everything despite feeling like a volcano.
"Dammit Halfie, are you gonna go the fuck to sleep or do I need to knock you out?"
Todoroki blinks. Bakugou hasn't spared him a single glance past his shoulder yet. Does he have eyes in the back of his head or something?
"I can't."
There's a loud sigh then more noises as Bakugou turns to face him, and Todoroki tries to return the gesture but the rags are on him and, well, craning his neck to lock eyes hurts. He decides to memorize the ceiling above them instead.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. Much better."
"Well, you're a fucking liar."
"No. I'm still on fire. But I'm with you."
Todoroki can feel eyes on himself. The only noise is the vibrations of the fan in the corner and occasional sharp groans that seem to manage to slip from his mouth. Maybe Bakugou fell asleep. Maybe he doesn't want the fire in Todoroki that's burning the inside of his body, its smoke tainting his organs, his blood, and the sound of it ablaze chanting Bakugou, Bakugou, Bakugou.
Finally, he hears a deep breath to his right. "I know that you hang out with fucking Deku and.. and that's why it probably seems like this shit is normal to say, but it's fucking not and you need to know that it has consequences."
Todoroki tries to twist his neck but electricity surges through. He should look at Bakugou. He should see if he upset him, if he stills wants his heart if he were to reach in and pull it out to offer it in all its bloody, imperfect glory. He wants to swat the cloths away and simply turn to see, though his wish is not to upset him.
"But it's not Midoriya. I feel better now because you're with me."
I feel better now because of your hands. I was in your care. I was in your care and you took care of me. You.
There's a hand on his chin and it leads his head to turn, meeting red eyes. He's not sure how his temperature hasn't burned the fingers on his skin, but the hand is still there, holding his jaw, making sure he doesn't move. He's sure he can't breathe either.
Bakugou is staring into his eyes with this look, this look that Todoroki's been itching to decode this whole time. Did Bakugou move closer? Todoroki's certain they weren't this close when he was staring at the ceiling, no, they were worlds apart. Bakugou looks at his lips instead and it's so intense that the tingling feeling across his body makes him wet his lips, just a flicker of tongue that instantly causes Bakugou to dart his gaze away.
"Just get better. You owe me that."
It comes out as a whisper but it's stern and sure. Suddenly, his body is turned completely away like before, and Todoroki is pulled close until his bare back is against the thin shirt covering Bakugou's chest. The hand glides around his hot torso and stays there, grip firm as if Todoroki might get up and run away. As if he ever would.
The cool of the cloths is gone. Todoroki figures they fell at some point when he was dragged across the bed. Yes, they are gone and replaced by something better—Bakugou's hand on his skin, on his chest, on his heart and Todoroki wants to say, take it. Take it, it's yours.