Archive of Our Own

It started with a sniffle. The students were taking a test, Mr. Aizawa was grading papers, and somewhere in the middle of the room, Hanta Sero was struggling to breathe. His nose was stuffy, his lungs caught on every breath, and his brain felt like it was full of fuzz. After ten minutes, Kyouka poked him with an earphone jack to offer him a lozenge. Five minutes later, Midoriya offered him a packet of tissues. Behind him, Dark Shadow was doing their best to pat his back without being rough or distracting.

The test blurred in front of his face. He was pretty sure he’d messed up half the answers but he couldn’t make himself think about laws and ethics. All his brain could conjure up were his little siblings he’d seen over the weekend, who’d greeted him with red noses and hacking coughs before latching onto his legs and clinging until he left.

Mr. Aizawa didn’t spare a glance at the test when he turned it in, just looking at Hanta with a raised eyebrow before handing him a jelly packet.

“Go see Recovery Girl before lunch,” he said.

Hanta nodded, accepted the jelly packet, and was not the least bit surprised when Recovery Girl told him he had the flu and needed to quarantine in his dorm room until it cleared up. She told him she’d tell Mr. Aizawa where he went and to rest in his dorm until someone dropped off medicine for him.

Once he reached the dorms, he shoved his school bag into the corner, changed into pajamas, and curled up in bed. He checked his phone for messages, but every chat was quiet; they were all in class. Idle icons blurred in front of him, the messages from the night before turning illegible. He tapped out a quick message and hoped it was coherent. He couldn't really read it.

Tapebows: heads up – my little siblings gave me the flu. Recovery Girl’s having me quarantine until it’s done               

He tossed his phone aside, sank into the mattress, and fell into a restless sleep. Several hours later, he woke up when someone knocked on the door.

Hazy and confused, he stumbled to open it. Mr. Aizawa was setting a cardboard box by the door, stocked with medicine, a gallon of orange juice, a sports drink, and a container of soup.

“Recovery Girl’s flu regiment,” he explained. “She doesn’t think you need antibiotics, but if you feel worse after a couple days, she can prescribe some. I trust you know how to take cough syrup and painkillers.”

Hanta nodded, bending over to drag the box in. He pitched forward, head spinning, and caught himself on the door jamb. He waved off Mr. Aizawa when he took a step closer.

“S’all right,” he said. “Headache, y’know?”

“Take the painkillers and get some rest,” Mr. Aizawa said. “Iida wanted you to have orange juice. Vitamin C.”

Hanta thanked him, smiling slightly as he dragged the box into his room. He’d have to thank Iida for the juice. He didn’t know if vitamin C was a cure-all, but it helped wash away the taste of cough syrup.

His phone buzzed with a message. Clicking on the display, multiple messages were waiting for him in the group chat.

birb: That is most unfortunate. I hope you recover quickly.

Yaomomo: Please let us know if we can help at all! I can bring tea by if you want.

Yoshi: Mr. Aizawa told us not to interrupt your quarantine but we can leave things outside your door 🐸

Sonic: I have multiple gallons of orange juice. I will give one to Mr. Aizawa to pass along to you.

Invisagirl: why do you have so much orange juice?

Sonic: It fuels my Quirk.

Deku: Kacchan’s mom has a good soup recipe she’d make when we were kids, I bet she’d give it to me if I asked her

Tails: orange juice = gas?

Sonic: More or less, yes

Kacchan: I have it already

Sonic: I can also give you a copy of my notes when you feel better so you don’t fall behind!

insomnicat: you do know he’s probably sleeping and won’t see these messages for a while

Deku: I’m assuming he’ll wake up and backread

Alien Queen: place your bets on who’s gonna get the flu next

Kacchan: probably deku or shitty hair. they sit next to him

Sonic: Ideally no one else catches it

insomnicat: yeah, not likely. dad told me the flu makes kids drop like flies from december to march every year

insomnicat: he said this is the longest he’s seen a class not get sick and it’s probably because of the dorms

elphaba: my money’s on kaminari

elphaba: they drank half of sero’s tea this morning

zapdos: fuck

insomnicat: no offense but as soon as it starts spreading im going home. flu’s gross

Kacchan: you think aizawa will let you skip out on the dorms so easily?

insomnicat: dorms are for safety and i am just as safe at home with mom and pops

insomnicat: the only hold up would probably be eri. don’t wanna be the one to get her sick. or pops, for that matter

insomnicat: godspeed to the rest of you

rock hard: I think mr. aizawa might actually expel us if we got eri sick

insomnicat: eh. she’s living with three teachers, it’s a risk they’re aware of

insomnicat: i just don’t want the guilt

Tapebows: thanks for the OJ and the offer of tea. I won’t turn down soup or notes, either

Tails: hey you’re awake! how’re you feeling?

zapdos: hanta!!

Alien Queen: !!

Tapebows: still awful. I’m going to sleep for an eternity

Deku: Rest well!!

Yaomomo: Sleep well!

The next day, Hitoshi watched Denki stumble through the morning with static radiating off of them, saw Asui droop and doze off at her desk, and listened to Izuku sneeze up a storm in the desk ahead of them. After they were all sent to Recovery Girl, Hitoshi waited for the rest of the class to go to lunch before tugging on their dad’s scarf.

“Can I sleep at home?” they asked. “At this rate, everyone’ll be sick in the dorms, and I don’t want to get sick.”

He ruffled their hair. “You sit beside Midoriya and have a room near Kaminari’s,” he pointed out. “You don’t think you’re already sick?”

They shook their head, firmly ignoring the tickle in their throat. “I feel fine. Please, Dad?”

“Get Recovery Girl to do a throat swab, first,” he said. “Eri still hasn’t caught up on all her shots. Hizashi’s set to take her tomorrow.”

They nodded, skipping over lunch in the cafeteria to go to the infirmary. They passed Izuku carrying Asui on his back, Denki a couple paces behind with their bags, and raised an eyebrow at them.

“Flu,” Izuku confirmed. Hitoshi grimaced and stepped back.

Recovery Girl didn’t look surprised to see them. “Do you feel ill, too?” she asked.

“Not yet,” they replied. “But Dad won’t let me go home to sleep if I’ll get Eri sick.”

“Nor should he. She’s more susceptible to illness, even if she’s getting stronger.” She did the throat swab quickly, handing them a piece of candy while she waited for it to process. When her computer dinged, she skimmed the screen and looked at them sympathetically. “I’m afraid you’re stuck in the dorms for a while. Go get comfortable, I’ll tell Shouta where you’ve gone. You’re in the early stages, at least.”

They groaned but did as she said, taking the lozenges she pushed into their hand with them. At least they didn’t taste like cough medicine.

insomnicat: @tapebows meet me in the pit

zapdos: you’re sick too?

insomnicat: yep

Tapebows: is the pit actual hell bc im pretty sure im dying

Deku: Does that mean you’re stuck in the dorms too?

insomnicat: yea. at least I’ve got Gremlin

insomnicat: cats make everything better

zapdos: wish I had a cat. i just have a video game and a fuckton of fuzzy blankets

insomnicat: I mean. I can share Gremlin

insomnicat: just bring your game and a few fuzzy blankets and we can suffer together

zapdos: !! really?

insomnicat: yea, we’re already sick, might as well get comfortable

zapdos: bet

Deku: Someone remind me to ask Kacchan if he’d be willing to make Aunt Mitsuki’s soup

Deku: I feel like my sinuses will never be clear again

insomnicat: noted

Tapebows: hey, shinsou, out of curiosity, how would being at your house be different?

insomnicat: house has my parents and the other cats

insomnicat: I would kill for a cloud hug but pops really doesn’t do well with getting sick, esp in the winter

Deku: I feel

Tapebows: really?

insomnicat: yea. the cold makes his injuries flare up. flu gives him full body aches. last year when he got the flu he didn’t really get out of bed until it was gone

Kacchan: frogger’s the only one of you that isn’t an idiot

Deku: soup

Kacchan: stfu

Deku: :(

Kacchan: round cheeks and i have to go pick up ingredients

Deku: :)

Sonic: I must agree with Bakugou, you should all be resting while you’re ill.

zapdos: sir yes sir

Izuku pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, half-watching a cartoon on his laptop. As much as he wished he could sleep, he couldn’t lay down without losing the ability to breathe. His sinuses were packed to the point he felt like there was cotton in his head.

He knew it was only going to get worse. He’d gotten used to his arms hurting at a low level every day, but it had increased in the cold. With the full body ache setting in from being sick, it was hard to move his fingers enough to type out messages. Voice to text worked well enough, but he’d have to stop replying to the chat soon.

Hours after class ended, someone knocked on his door. Izuku sniffed and got up, leaning against the wall to crack open the door. Kacchan stood in front of him with a steaming bowl of soup and a box of tissues.

“Let me in,” he said.

Izuku did, shutting the door behind him. Kacchan set the items on his desk and looked at him, half-glaring.

“Why are you still in your uniform?” he asked. “Should be in pajamas or some shit that’s more comfortable.”

Izuku set the blanket on the bed. “It hurts to move.” He’d tried, but it had been hard enough to just take off his tie and unlace his shoes. Ripping the buttons was an option, but the idea of sewing them back on…

Kacchan frowned and beckoned him forward, wordlessly helping him take off his shirt and binder. He pulled on a hoodie, sighing at the soft material. That was so much better.

“Thanks, Kacchan,” he said.

“Shut up,” he replied. “Just eat your soup and try not to die.” He glanced at the laptop, raising an eyebrow at the cartoon. “Didn’t we watch that as kids?”

“Yeah.” Izuku sat at his desk, watching Kacchan grab the laptop and move it where they could both see, tapping a couple buttons. “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

Kacchan shrugged, sitting on the floor without saying anything else. The cartoon played in front of them at a low volume, all bright colors and cheesy dialogue. He’d turned on subtitles when he’d fiddled with the keyboard. He didn’t make any comment when Izuku – with sinuses drained by Aunt Mitsuki’s signature Spicy Soup for the Sick – used half the tissue box to blow his nose.

Kacchan took the empty bowl and set his laptop back on the bed before pushing him toward it. “Text me if you need more soup,” he said. He kicked the trash can closer and set the tissues beside the laptop. “Don’t need you infecting the kitchen trying to get it yourself.”

“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled.

Kacchan just made a tch sound in acknowledgment and left. Izuku dozed off, drifting into a fitful half-sleep until there was a soft knock at his door. Without realizing it, he whined as he sat up. When he tried to get up, he tripped and fell to the floor with a loud crash.

The door opened – had Kacchan not locked it? – and he saw Mr. Aizawa with the same regiment he’d taken Sero the day before, now in a small plastic tub.

“Midoriya, are you okay?” He stepped past Izuku to set the tub on his desk before helping him up.

His response was less coherent and more of a pained groan. He’d landed on his right forearm and the dull ache that had been steadily increasing all day was skyrocketing. He tried to rub at it with his other hand, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain. Had he broken it again?

Mr. Aizawa frowned, his hands steady as he guided Izuku to the bed. “Is your arm all right?”

Izuku shook his head. “’S been hurting all day,” he said. “Old breaks, I guess?”

Mr. Aizawa clicked his tongue and looked at the tub. “Do you have a heating pad?” he asked. “Or pain cream?”

Izuku blinked. His heating pad was under his bed, but he didn’t have any topical creams.

“Would those help?” he asked.

Mr. Aizawa shrugged. “They work for Shirakumo in a pinch. Only use one at a time. Topical analgesics can burn you if you put heat on them.”

Izuku nodded, waiting until he left to set up his heating pad. His mind was still on the pain creams. Would Kacchan have any? He called Shouto IcyHot, but Izuku wasn’t sure if he’d ever used any himself. He wished he’d thought of it earlier, he could have asked him to pick some up on his ingredient run. Maybe Shouto or Tenya would run to the pharmacy for him?

The heating pad helped some, at least.

zapdos: kacchan what the fuck kind of spices did you put in this soup

zapdos: i feel like a dragon

Kacchan: the fuck is wrong with my spices?

Tapebows: nothing. it’s the best soup i’ve had in a while

Kacchan: see, sparky! you’re just weak.

zapdos: i didn’t say it was bad! it’s just. very spicy

insomnicat: so much spice

elphaba: i think you guys just have a higher spice tolerance than the rest of us

Kacchan: weak

Yaomomo: There is more soup if anyone wants some! If you’re sick please ask one of us to grab it for you.

Kacchan: don’t infect the fucking soup with your germs

birb: I enjoyed the amount of spices

Deku: it’s great soup

Deku: unrelated, does anyone have any topical pain creams i could use

rock hard: I got you bro! icy hot or bengay?

Vulpix: I’m not a topical pain cream

Kacchan: he’s bengay all his life

Deku: dksalf KACCHAN

elphaba: fdjakl SHOUTO

insomnicat: todoroki’s got jokes?

Deku: whichever is fine I’ve never used either

rock hard: I’ll bring one down in a second

Deku: come in and set it on the desk I kinda can’t move

rock hard: you got it!

Deku: thank you! I really appreciate it!

insomnicat: if the power surges that’s denki, they’re still laughing

Vulpix: :)

Denki lowered their game and looked at Hitoshi sprawled on the floor. They’d brought blankets, given Hitoshi the fluffy purple one, and had been rewarded with a cat on their lap. For a while, Hitoshi had sat beside them, watching them play with their head on Denki’s shoulder, but they’d gotten restless after a while and moved. The book they were reading was one Momo had loaned them, something Present Mic had suggested during class, but they kept bouncing between the book and their phone.

“I can switch to a multiplayer game if you want,” they offered. “I’ve got fighting, racing, puzzles…”

They shook their head. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” Hitoshi sat up, leaning against the side of the bed. “Turn up the sound? I like the music.”

Denki did so, shifting to let Hitoshi watch them play. They didn’t get back on the bed, but they did lean their head against their arm. It was a warm weight. Something buzzed in Denki’s ears, low and humming.

“You play as the girl character?” they asked softly.

“Yeah. I like the outfits.” It took them a while to unlock all the clothing options, but they’d beaten the base game and had all the postgame options. Blonde hair, purple and black clothes – they thought about changing the outfit a bit, maybe changing the hair. Something longer.

Hitoshi smiled. “I always play the boy,” they admitted. “I wish they would add a nonbinary character, but I prefer being he/him-ed to being she/her-ed.”

“Same! Well, other way, but you know what I mean.” Denki blushed when Hitoshi laughed, the tightness in their chest increasing when their heart fluttered. The hum got louder and they pushed down the sparks that wanted to dance on their hands.

After a second, Hitoshi’s laughter turned to hacking coughs. They hunched over, their face hidden in their elbow. Denki reached out to rub their back, trying to keep their hand steady. They could feel the binder through their shirt and frowned. Wouldn’t that make it harder to breathe?

“Momo offered tea,” Denki said. “Should I take her up on it?”

Hitoshi nodded, reaching out to scratch Gremlin while Denki took out their phone. A knock sounded on the door. They both swiveled their heads to look at it.

“Is she that fast?” Hitoshi asked.

“I haven’t even sent the text,” Denki replied.

“It’s me, Hitoshi.” Mr. Aizawa’s voice sounded through the door. “Is Kaminari in there with you?” Hitoshi opened the door, stepping back to let Mr. Aizawa in.

“I can go back to my room,” Denki said.

Mr. Aizawa shrugged. “It makes no difference to me where you are so long as you’re in the dorms and taking the medicine Recovery Girl is sending. You’d probably just come back anyway. One tub for each of you.” He set it on the desk and looked at Hitoshi. “Do you need anything else?”

Hitoshi tilted their head and lifted their arms slightly. “A hug?”

Mr. Aizawa nodded and pulled them into a hug, letting Hitoshi melt into them. He was smiling, softer than he ever did in class. It reached his eyes and made him look… gentler, almost.

Denki looked away, gluing their eyes to their game. It felt like something Denki shouldn’t see, the way Hitoshi buried their face in his scarf and how Mr. Aizawa mussed their hair and held them tightly. Mr. Aizawa was always so... monotone. Stoic. Not soft, not gentle. Seeing him look fond felt wrong.

“You have my number if you need anything,” Mr. Aizawa said softly. Denki assumed it was meant for Hitoshi’s ears and not theirs. Child privilege and all that.

They set their game on their legs and pulled at their fingers, biting their tongue when a few sparks flickered between their palms. Not enough that they needed to discharge, but enough that they didn’t want to hold anything, insulated cases be damned. They weren’t sure they could replace their phone if they broke it.

Well, Hatsume probably would jump the chance to make a new phone. But the thought of dipping into their dwindling supply of yen or having to tell their uncle they’d fucked up again was enough to keep them from risking it.

Hitoshi nodded and let him leave, already flopping down beside the bed before Mr. Aizawa was gone. They sat in silence for a bit, Denki weaving sparks through their fingers until Gremlin tried to bat at them.

“Did you text Momo?” Hitoshi asked. “I can do it if you want.”

“No, no, I got it,” Denki said, fumbling with their phone. The game slid into their lap and Gremlin mewed in protest without moving. Hitoshi picked it up to fiddle with their character. They made her run in circles aimlessly, avoiding anything that would cause actual gameplay.

“Should you take your binder off?” Denki asked after a moment. “I can duck out while you do.”

“Probably.” Hitoshi grimaced and waved a hand when Denki went to stand up. “Just shut your eyes, I’ll tell you when you can look.”

Denki picked up a blanket and threw it over their head. Hitoshi snorted and Denki smiled slightly. They noticed Gremlin staring at them, wide green eyes bright under the blanket, and tilted their head.

“What?” they whispered. Gremlin chuffed and butted her head against their stomach. They stroked her flank and she flopped against them with a loud purr.

“You’re good,” Hitoshi said. Denki pulled the blanket off their head. They’d put on a massive yellow hoodie with Put Your Hands Up Radio emblazoned on the front. Denki assumed it was Present Mic’s; the sleeves covered their hands and made sweater paws. It was cute.

Denki held up their phone. “Momo said she’d bring some tea down in a bit, she’s gotta brew it first.”

Hitoshi nodded, forgoing the floor to sit by their legs. “I think my cat likes you better than me,” they said after a moment. “She doesn’t cuddle me like that.”

“It’s the buzzing,” Denki said. “It’s not too far off from purring.”

“Buzzing?” Hitoshi cocked their head to the side, strands of purple hair flopping into their face.

“My Quirk. Usually it’s a hum, but sometimes it’s a buzz.” When they went over their limit or were sick, usually. They wished they could send the electricity somewhere within them. Wasn’t there something about using electric pulses to loosen up muscles? All they could do was discharge it.

What they wouldn’t give to have their Quirk ease the ache in their muscles. Hitoshi had watched them shuffle in all stiff and wincing and practically shoved them onto the bed.

“Sushi would probably love you,” Hitoshi said. “She’s always napping on Mom’s desktop tower.” They sat beside Denki, the fluffy purple blanket around their shoulders like a cape.

“Sushi?”

Hitoshi pulled up a photo on their phone of an old ginger tabby cat. “She’s the oldest cat. Pops found her when they were second years, so she’s maybe fourteen?”

“Damn,” Denki whispered. “How many cats do you have?”

They pulled up a second photo with four cats sprawled around a sleeping Loud Cloud. Sushi was curled up on his chest, right over his heart. There was a fluffy gray one tucked under his arm, a skinny white one stretched across his stomach, and a fourth black and white one near his head on a pillow.

“Radio is the gray one, she’s Dad’s favorite. His sister gave her to him as a wedding present. The white one’s Bathtub, Dad found him during a rainstorm.” He zoomed in on the black and white one. “The last one’s Dango. Pops brought him back after they took me in. Mom calls him Demon, though, ‘cause he keeps trying to maul him.”

“Mic hasn’t brought back any cats?” Denki asked.

Hitoshi shook their head. “No, but he brought me in, and I’m worth at least two cats, so it’s pretty even.”

Denki laughed and the lights surged for a second. Hitoshi grinned at them before turning back to their phone.

“Do you have pets?” they asked.

Denki frowned. “No.”

Not for lack of want. Dogs, cats, they loved the little creatures. They’d asked their aunt and uncle a lot when they were younger if they could have a pet, but they’d always said no. Denki remembered them citing their lack of Quirk control when they were five, but even when they got older and got better with their Quirk, the answer never changed.

They winced at the tightness in their chest. It didn’t help that their heart was pounding. Gremlin stretched out her paws, kneading biscuits into their thigh.

Denki could see Hitoshi watching them quietly from the corner of their eye. After a moment, they got up and pawed through the plastic tubs Mr. Aizawa had brought. They offered Denki some of the cough syrup and painkillers, popping a lozenge in their own mouth. When their phone buzzed, they cracked the door open to grab the thermos and mugs Momo had left for them.

They didn’t talk until after they’d drained their tea and stretched out on the floor.

“You seem like you’d have hamsters,” Hitoshi said. “Maybe mice.”

Denki blinked. “Why rodents?” They didn’t mind rodents, but they’d never seemed plausible. Without ever hearing her protests, they could picture their aunt’s reaction if they’d brought a rodent into her pristine house.

“Small and squeaky,” was Hitoshi’s simple reply. “You could name them after the Pikachu clones.”

Denki snorted. “Maybe someday.” Someday far away, after they’d graduated and didn’t have anyone to tell them no. They could have all the pets they wanted instead of just spending hours crouched in front of the enclosures at the pet store, rotating through the different animals.

They always went back to the ferrets. All fun and mischievous and noodle-y, they reminded Denki of Sero. Would he be offended if Denki got a ferret and named it Cellophane? Were ferrets even rodents?

Hitoshi poked their arm. “You look tired,” they said.

“Says the one with designer eyebags,” Denki retorted. Still, they sidled toward the edge when Hitoshi stepped over them to wedge between Denki and the wall. Gremlin, displeased by the movement, hissed and hopped off the bed to curl up on her cat tree.

Hitoshi was warm next to them. They were under different blankets, but Hitoshi put their head on Denki’s shoulder to watch them play. Slowly, their breathing evened out and their weight fell into Denki. They set the game aside, acutely aware of the buzzing in their head and the slow relief of the painkillers starting to work, and waited for sleep to pull them under.

elphaba: mina what do bakugou and I win

Alien Queen: ?

elphaba: you said place your bets on who’s gonna get sick next and bakugou and I guessed right. what do we win

Kacchan: round cheeks has a point

Alien Queen: my undying affection

elphaba: pass

Kacchan: that’s the best you got?

Alien Queen: :O

Alien Queen: it’s not like we actually put anything in a pot to win!

elphaba: lame

Alien Queen: ochaco i offer you a boba tea next time we leave campus

Alien Queen: king i offer you my undying affection

Kacchan: don’t I already have that?

Alien Queen: I mean yeah but now you can have it double

Kacchan: hm

Alien Queen: I’ll buy you something cool from the specialty store

Kacchan: deal

elphaba: now that that’s settled

elphaba: Do you think Mr. Aizawa is gonna keep having us come to class just to send us to Recovery Girl?

Sonic: If you feel ill in the morning you should go to Recovery Girl before class

ears: She’ll probably send a message to him telling him if we’re sick or not so there’s no getting away with skipping

Yaomomo: Do you feel sick Uraraka?

elphaba: nah I’m good but it’s only Tuesday and five people are quarantined

rock hard: pls don’t ask me to do math to figure out how long until everyone is down

ears: the exponential growth lesson wasn’t that hard kiri

rock hard: speak for yourself, I’ve gone to ectoplasm’s office hours four times and still don’t get it

rock hard: last time i actually started crying

Kacchan: it’s Friday

Vulpix: it is still Tuesday?

Kacchan: no, idiot, everyone’s gonna be in quarantine by Friday at this rate

Kacchan: How the fuck are you number five in ranks

rock hard: how did you come up with Friday?

Yaomomo: I was going to guess Thursday

Vulpix: proficiency in school does not translate to proficiency in following your thought process

Vulpix: that is Izuku and Kirishima’s realm of expertise

Alien Queen: :(

Vulpix: that is Izuku’s, Kirishima’s, and Ashido’s realm of expertise

Alien Queen: :)

Kacchan: the fuck is that supposed to mean

Tapebows: you’re a fucking enigma and there are three (3) people in our class that understand you

zapdos: ^^^

Kacchan: and you both claim to be my friends

elphaba: shouldnt you both be sleeping

Tapebows: believe me im trying

zapdos: trying. failing

ears: how are you awake when the literal insomniac isn’t?

zapdos: maybe I stole their insomnia

zapdos: maybe I’m the insomniac now

zapdos: ZkkhdXhxlbjk

ears: you good?

zapdos: they knocked my phone out of my hand bc the light woke them up

elphaba: I can’t believe denki is dead

zapdos: excuse you i am still alive

zapdos: ill and dying, maybe, but alive

elphaba: you won’t be if Aizawa hears you kept his insomniac child awake

zapdos: shit u right

When he woke up shivering, Shouto knew that something was very wrong. Cold didn’t affect him the way it did most people. His ice side made his heat tolerance higher and his fire side made his cold tolerance better; it was thermodynamic equilibrium. It was something Touya had told him he envied about Shouto’s Quirk, the way he could balance himself.

Now, with frost following him as he stumbled down to the common room, he wondered what happened to Touya when he got fevers. He knew his body ran hot already. Did he get warmer? Did he go cold?

“Todoroki, are you okay?” Yaomomo asked.

“Mm. Yes. Just…” He wavered, still shivering, and bumped into the door jamb to avoid walking into her. “Tired.”

“You don’t look so good, man,” Kirishima said. “Maybe you should go see Recovery Girl?”

Shouto hummed, moving slowly around the kitchen. He could do that before class. Maybe. He needed to wake up first, to warm up first. Yaomomo had brewed tea and set his mug aside for him. He picked it up, frowning when it froze in his hand.

“Tea…” he mumbled. Maybe he could warm it in his other hand? He moved it from his right hand to his left, biting his tongue when his left hand didn’t warm up. Try as he might, no heat emitted from his palm.

Odd.

From the doorway, Shouto heard Bakugou’s angry question of, “Why the fuck is the kitchen frozen?”

He turned and saw that everywhere he’d walked, there was ice. A thin layer of frost covered the floor and counters, growing thicker around him.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Maybe you should go back to bed,” Yaomomo said carefully, holding onto Kirishima to walk to the carpeted area beyond the kitchen. “We can tell Mr. Aizawa you weren’t feeling well.”

Shouto blinked, the kitchen blurring in front of him. He should melt the ice before leaving. And mop the water left behind. It wasn’t fair of him to leave a mess for his classmates to deal with.

“Dammit, stop using your Quirk!” Bakugou grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him out of the kitchen in a swift motion, dropping him on the carpet. “Why the fuck are you so cold?”

“I think I may be sick,” Shouto said, swaying where he stood. Would he make it to Recovery Girl’s office? She was across campus and the door out of the dorm was so far away.

The door to the teacher’s dorm opened and Mr. Aizawa stared at them, eyes red and hair flying. The frost stopped falling from Shouto, though the ice that had already formed remained.

“Todoroki. Go back to bed,” Mr. Aizawa said. “Yaoyorozu, are you headed back upstairs?”

“Yes?”

Mr. Aizawa waved a hand. “Help him to your floor. I’m going to find something for the ice. Bakugou, do not use your Quirk to thaw the kitchen.”

Shouto heard Bakugou scoff behind him but ignored him in favor of following Yaomomo. She picked up one of the throw blankets from the couch to wrap it around his shoulders. It was soft, though he could feel the frost collecting beneath it and trapping the cold against his body.

She paused by his doorway, looking at the ice trail he’d created. The carpet was damp where it had started to melt.

“I guess you don’t get fevers, then?” she asked nervously.

“I suppose not,” he said. “I haven’t been sick in a long time.”

He balked in the doorway. Half of his room was covered in ice. Had he done that in his sleep? It was everywhere. The floor, the wall, the futon, the blankets. He tugged the blanket tighter around himself, still shaking.

Yaomomo slipped on the floor mats, grabbing his arm to steady herself. She tilted her head and offered to bring back tea and a hair dryer, to try and thaw the room.

“There must be another fire user in the school,” she said when he shook his head. “Mr. Aizawa will probably find someone who can melt the ice. I’ll tell him the extent of this.”

Fire users. He knew fire users. They were trusted by UA, too, so they’d be allowed on the grounds.

After Yaomomo left, Shouto picked up his phone. At least Hatsume had made a nice case for him. Temperature resistant, so his Quirk wouldn’t break it. He ignored the group chat notifications, swiping open his stream with Touya.

Shouto: Can you come to campus?

Touya: What’s wrong?

Shouto: I think I’m sick. I can’t make heat or fire and I’ve frozen half the dorm.

Touya: You and Fuyumi and your snowflake sneezes

Touya: Did you run this by Eraser?

Shouto: Oh. I should probably do that.

Touya: Don’t worry, I’ve got his number. I’ll offer to thaw the dorms and he’ll probably be fine with it

Touya: If he isn’t, I’ll come anyway

Shouto: Thank you

Fiddling with his phone, he shuffled around his room. He wasn’t sure what to do. It was still cold and he didn’t want to sit in his ice. He had to shake the frost off the blanket – over the ice, because it wasn’t like it was going anywhere – before sitting in the hall. There were a few dry patches that he could wait in. He found one by the window, where he could look out over the grounds.

There weren’t any students outside; it was early, earlier than most of their classmates woke up. Barring the few students that went for morning runs and the ones that liked morning workouts, the rest of his class was probably still asleep. Most of the campus was probably still asleep, waiting for the sun to rise.

Shouto pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped himself in the blanket, and leaned his head on his legs to watch for Touya.

Nova: Heard Shouto froze half the dorm. Need help?

Eraserhead: My surprise is not that you know but that he was able to contact you before me.

Nova: He can be quick sometimes

Eraserhead: He was walking around like a zombie and didn’t notice the ice he was leaving everywhere.

Nova: No thoughts head empty Shouto?

Eraserhead: More or less.

Nova: Be there in twenty.

It wasn’t like Touya hadn’t visited UA since graduating. Granted, it was usually for the sports festival or helping with demonstrations, but he’d been on campus in less official capacities since Shouto had enrolled.

Okay, it was to go to the school festival and check on Shouto in the dorms, but still. He knew UA and the staff decently enough to know that they weren’t fucking around with the kids’ safety. When he was a student, there was just the outer gate and the front office. Now he had to go through a gate, a security checkpoint, get escorted to the front office for a visitor’s badge, and be shown wherever he was supposed to be with one of the staff breathing down his neck.

At least Eraser wasn’t talkative in the morning. He just nodded to Touya, thermos clutched in a death grip, and showed him the ice-covered dorm.

The Yaoyorozu girl and Ingenium Junior were doing their best to mop up some of the half-melted ice. Towels were everywhere, breaking up the dark carpet. Bakugou was mopping the kitchen with a deep scowl, alternating between focusing on his task and snapping at his classmates.

“I sent him back upstairs,” Eraser said, gesturing toward the stairwell. “Fifth floor.”

“I’m going to check on him before I deal with the ice,” Touya said.

He could make the ice melt and evaporate with ease, but he wanted to see the extent of the damage first. And make sure Shouto hadn’t gone hypothermic. His fevers were always odd and unpredictable; the funs of a temperature related elemental Quirk. Touya always overheated and had to be watched in case he started a fire with a sneeze when he was sick. Fuyumi always teetered on the edge of hypothermia and had to be swaddled in electric blankets if he or Dad weren’t around to sit with her. Shouto could go either way, depending on which side of his Quirk won the internal coin toss.

At least it wasn’t his fire side this time. Touya doubted UA would take kindly to accidental arson; they certainly hadn’t when he was a student.

One of Shouto’s classmates – strength Quirk, sugar related, name started with an S, maybe? – was outside the elevator when it reached the fifth floor and pointed toward the window, where a blue lump was leaning against the glass.

“I was gonna get Mr. Aizawa, he doesn’t look too good,” the kid said.

Touya waved a hand. “I got him. Thanks.”

The lump blinked blearily when Touya shook his shoulder. After two seconds of processing, Shouto pitched forward to smush himself against Touya.

“Warm,” he mumbled, latching onto him in a hug.

Touya snorted, pressing the back of his hand against Shouto’s cheek. Cold, far colder than he should be. Shouto leaned into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling like a cat. Frost danced around him and his hair shone with crystals of moisture.

“I’ve gotta melt the ice you left everywhere,” he said softly. “Do you want me to fix your room first so you can sleep?”

Shouto made a whining noise and held tighter. Touya shifted into a steadier crouch and moved the blanket. That much frost trapped against him was only going to make his temperature worse.

“I’ll piggyback you around while I melt the ice, but you have to rest after, okay?”

Shouto nodded, mumbling, “Are you staying?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” He might actually freeze to death if Touya didn’t. At least he didn’t get as fidgety and restless as Fuyumi. He just wanted cuddles.

A few of the kids looked surprised at him carrying Shouto while he dried the common areas. Which, fair. Shouto wasn’t exactly small anymore. He couldn’t be hoisted onto Touya’s shoulders so easily as when he was little but carrying him in a piggyback – well, it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t difficult. He was practically asleep already, his head on Touya’s shoulder and arms around his neck, cold breaths puffing out with flakes of ice.

Eraser raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching him throw blue fire at patches of ice with a single hand. He took his time, making sure the floor was dry before moving on to the next patch. Heat the ice to melt it, evaporate the water, snuff out the flame. Steady pace, repetitive motions – simple work that seemed to fascinate some of the students.

Maybe they were comparing his fire to Shouto’s. They were more familiar with him and Touya knew his precision was nowhere near his own. Raw power and devastating attacks were the base of his repertoire. He wasn’t comfortable enough with his fire to work on being precise yet.

“Thank you,” Eraser said once the last patch of ice was cleared. He tilted his head toward the students milling about the dining room. “The flu is making the rounds.”

Touya clicked his tongue, glancing at Shouto. “How many sick?”

“Five confirmed by Recovery Girl. I’ve sent three her way this morning and one back to bed, besides your brother.” He gestured to Shouto with his thermos. “I didn’t think he’d make it to her office.”

“He would have left ice sheets in his wake,” Touya said. “Mind if I hang around to watch him? He’s pretty agreeable when he’s sick, just wants to be held, and I’m pretty sure he’d freeze his classmates.”

Eraser waved a hand. “By all means. I have to check on the others. I’ll drop off medicine for him in the afternoon with the rest of them.”

“Just let me know how I can help.” He shivered when Shouto coughed, a chill running down his spine.

“Focus on Shouto,” Eraser said. “I’d rather his flu didn’t turn into pneumonia or hypothermia.”

Touya nodded. From Eraser’s plate to his, he could watch his little brother.

Thawing his room was a quick fix. It did take a few minutes to convince Shouto that it was in his best interest if Touya set him down to change the wet sheets for fresh ones, but as soon as the bed was made, Shouto crawled in and tugged Touya down to sit with him.

He was asleep within seconds.

And now Touya was trapped in the 1-A dorms with just his phone and his sick little brother for company.

Touya: Got called to UA to help Shouto through the flu. Put Burnin’ on my route today?

Dad: Will do. How is he?

Touya: Freezing. Eraser asked me to thaw out the dorms because he was shedding ice.

Dad: See if you can get him to eat warm foods. Cold soba won’t help if his core temperature is dropping.

Touya: o7 Got it.

Dad: Hydration, too.

Touya: The other kids have already offered to drop off tea and juice for him before class. You stocked his little fridge last week, too. Popsicles aplenty.

Dad: Don’t forget to feed yourself.

Touya: I am 24 years old I think I can remember to feed myself without reminders

Dad: Debatable.

Touya rolled his eyes and switched apps, settling to scroll through Babbler. There wasn’t anything interesting in the feed for his professional account. A headline about Miruko and Hawks defusing a hostage situation in Kyushu, a photo of Edgeshot and Kamui Woods on Mt. Lady’s shoulders, a blurry photo of him at UA’s gates –

Damn it. It wasn’t someone he followed; it was one of the tabloid sites, pushed into his feed because of the mentions.

Musutafu Daily @musutafudaily

Pro Hero @NovaTouya spotted visiting @UAHS! Is UA High School hiring new teachers?

He copied the link and sent it to the agency’s publicist. It was too damn early to deal with paparazzi rumors. After a second, he took a screenshot to send to Eraser.

Nova: Might wanna get Ecto to check the perimeter. I didn’t see any photographers coming in.

Eraserhead: Noted.

Eraserhead: As an aside – what do they think you would be teaching? UA has a full staff.

Nova: Fuck knows. Maybe they’re expecting an opening with All Might retiring as a Pro.

The account didn’t seem to be anything more than a tabloid on the surface. No links to anything suspect in their pages or following list. They just had amateur photos and videos of heroes around Shizuoka, the locations scattered around the prefecture. Multiple photographers, then, with just a few in Musutafu.

It was probably nothing to worry about. Touya still didn’t like it, the knowledge that someone had gotten a photo of him without him noticing. Or the speculation and rumors that followed. Legacy Pro seen skiving off his patrol route to visit his alma mater? Someone would pick up the story fast, and even if he stayed quiet, it wasn’t a secret that Shouto was at UA.

And half of 1-A was down with the flu, a few of them the heavy hitters of the group.

Was it targeted? Take down the strongest first years and hit while they’re weak?

Maybe not. He’d caught the flu as a student. Fuyumi and Natsuo had caught it in high school, too. Hell, Fuyumi caught it from her students annually, the past couple years.

He looked at Shouto. Even with a blanket wrapped around him – soft, oversized, and heavy – he had wiggled closer to lean against Touya’s arm, his face smushed into his shoulder. He sighed and readjusted them, gently as he could, so Shouto wouldn’t wake up. It was more comfortable for both of them. Shouto’s breathing was less ragged once he was partly elevated instead of slumped over, and Touya’s arm wasn’t falling asleep anymore.

Plus, this way he could reach Shouto’s phone charger. It was still plugged into Shouto’s phone, but he doubted he would mind him borrowing it if his phone ran low.

He settled in, keeping half his awareness on the chill still emanating from Shouto, and focused on letting out some of his ambient heat to warm the room.

elphaba: sound off, who’s not dead

Tapebows: I can’t sleep but I can cough up disgusting amounts of phlegm

ears: Gross

ears: I’m awake I just can’t breathe

zapdos: mood

zapdos: hitoshi was knocked tf out until the sun rose

zapdos: now they’re hiding from any and all light sources

Deku: ?? isn’t there class right now?

Deku: also I’m alive but everything hurts

muffin man: Present Mic put on a pre-Quirk American movie since half the class is sick

zapdos: o shit who else is down

elphaba: Shouto, Tokoyami, Mina, and Kirishima

ears: and me

ears: @zapdos momo offered to record the lectures for you

zapdos: @yaomomo you’re a goddess among mortals

birb: may I also look at the lecture recordings?

Yaomomo: Of course! I’ll make copies for whoever needs them

Sonic: Yamada has asked that I tell @everyone that there will be hot food delivered to the dorms at lunch for anyone who is sick

zapdos: thank god

Shouta set the coffee pot back into place after dumping half of it into his mug. When he sat at his desk and dropped his head to rest beside his keyboard, Sekijirou raised an eyebrow at him.

“What have your hellions broken now?” he asked.

“Their immune systems,” Shouta said to the desk. “Half of them have the flu. The rest will probably be sick by the end of the week.”

Sekijirou clicked his tongue. “Bad luck,” he said. “What are you doing with the ones that are left?”

Shouta grimaced, rubbing at his eyes. “Individual study,” he said. “I can’t move on in class when half of them will fall behind. They can work on the topics they feel they need improvement on.” He slid open the drawer of his desk, rummaging through it for his eye drops. Damn dry eye. Damn winter making his dry eye worse.

The lights flickered overhead, small and imperceptible. Shouta’s phone buzzed on its stand with a message from Lunch Rush lighting up the display. He sighed and grabbed it, draining the coffee in a single gulp.

“Now I get to deliver soup to sick children,” he grumbled.

He was glad Lunch Rush had the forethought to prep a batch of soup before the cafeteria opened for lunch. Maneuvering around hungry students or the cafeteria’s kitchen was a nightmare, a recurring one he’d had since his own school days.

“The smaller pot is rice,” Lunch Rush told him, “and the smallest one is curry. Ectoplasm told me that Nova was in your dorm building.” They raised an eyebrow at him.

“He’s helping his brother,” Shouta explained.

“And upping our security?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Thanks for the food.”

The sick students were mostly awake. Aoyama came across him halfway to the dorms, walking slowly from Recovery Girl’s office with a fresh diagnosis. He accepted a bowl of rice and soup and disappeared into his room without further comment.

He found Ashido migrating to Kirishima’s dorm with an armful of blankets, her eyes drooping and nose turning purple. She explained that it was the same as Kirishima’s nose going red and grimaced when she smelled the soup, but let him hand her a bowl. Kirishima set his trash bin closer to her, holding his own bowl of soup to his chest while she set hers on the desk. Shouta let them go back to their pile of blankets and pillows with the hope they'd fall asleep.

Tokoyami, inexplicably, had fallen asleep in the stairwell. He roused when Shouta shook him awake and mumbled something about becoming unperched. Didn’t he sleep in a bed? Shouta could have sworn he slept in a bed.

Dark Shadow was distressed and tried to fiddle with his scarf when he walked them back to their room. As soon as he was about to figure out how to extract it from Dark Shadow’s grip, Midoriya’s door opened, and Dark Shadow switched their attention to him.

Good enough. Midoriya was coherent enough to ask about classwork and training, he could handle convincing Dark Shadow to let Tokoyami sleep in a bed.

He didn’t question why Jirou was in Hitoshi’s room with Kaminari. The power hadn’t gone out or surged, despite Kaminari sneezing frequently, and Hitoshi seemed content with her combing their hair. She had one of her earphone jacks draped over their shoulder until they stood up to pull him into the hall.

He expected the hug; Hitoshi had gotten comfortable enough over the years to request physical affection and their want for hugs only increased whenever they were sick. Shouta rested the back of his hand against their cheek, frowning at the heat. Feverish, but not the worst. He still had to grab the forehead thermometer from Recovery Girl.

“I don’t think Denki’s okay,” they mumbled. “But they won’t talk about it.”

Shouta hummed. They were comfortable enough to use Kaminari’s first name and ask for a hug around them, but not to press their concerns. Interesting.

“Tell me more about them later,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”

Hitoshi leaned into his hand, their eyes half shut. “Headache-y. Sore. Hurts to breathe. I took a painkiller earlier, though, so lights and sounds aren’t knives.”

Possible migraine. They were prone to them already, having a mental Quirk, but Shouta usually didn’t worry until they started throwing up. “That’s good to know. Focus on resting for now,” Shouta said.

Hitoshi nodded into his shoulder with a small hum, face pressed into Shouta’s scarf, and he snorted. They wouldn’t let go at all if they had it their way.

Shouta kissed their temple and pulled away. “Rest,” he repeated. Quietly, he added, “And be responsible.”

Hitoshi flushed red and hit his shoulder with a weak punch before ducking back into their room. When Shouta peeked inside, he saw that Jirou’s ears were pink at the tips. If not for the furtive glance and how quickly she looked away, he would have believed it was because of the flu.

Fucking superhuman hearing. He hadn’t meant for anyone but Hitoshi to hear him. He’d have to apologize later. Teasing his child was one thing; making his student uncomfortable was another.

Asui was in a deep sleep. He almost felt bad waking her up, but with how slow her heartrate was, how deep her breaths were, Shouta was more worried that she would go into hibernation. Sleeping through her illness was one thing, but he needed to be able to wake her up. She seemed happier with soup and a heated blanket, at least.

Sero looked mostly the same as the day before. With deep bags under his eyes and his nose rubbed raw from tissues, he lit up when Shouta gave him the menthol rub he’d requested from Recovery Girl.

“Is Todoroki okay?” he asked, gesturing toward the neighboring dorm. “I woke up earlier and the wall was frozen.”

“He’s sick,” Shouta said. “His brother stopped by to help with the freezing.”

“I guess that explains where the ice went,” Sero said. He coughed into his elbow and ducked back into his room, soup in hand.

Nova opened the door when Shouta knocked, letting him see that Todoroki was awake – barely – and sitting at his desk with glassy eyes.

“Food and medicine,” Shouta said. “Lunch Rush sent you a curry.”

“Gods bless Lunch Rush,” Nova breathed. “Shouto, soup.”

Todoroki wrinkled his nose but took the offered bowl. “’S hot,” he mumbled, hunching over it.

“Cold soba won’t help with your temperature.” Nova ruffled his hair, stepping into the hall to talk to Shouta.

“Anything on that picture?” he asked.

“Just a tabloid looking for candids,” Shouta said. “Ectoplasm scared them off.”

Nova nodded. “Figured. Didn’t think it would hurt to check, though.” His hands were in his pockets – casual clothes, he hadn’t bothered putting on his hero costume – but Shouta could see how tight his shoulders were drawn, how he was scanning the hall and checking the windows.

“We dropped a line to local police, so they’ll shift the beats near the gates,” he said. “Internal security is increasing, as well.”

Nova’s shoulders didn’t drop, but he did shift his eyes back to Shouta, away from the windows. “Am I that obvious?”

Shouta shoved his hands in his pockets. “Only to people who know how to look,” he said. “Your worry isn’t unfounded, but your brother is safe.”

“Thought that about the training camp, too,” he scoffed. “UA seems tighter, but…”

“I understand,” Shouta said, mind flicking to Hitoshi a few floors away. He ignored the tightness in his chest and shoved the worry aside. “He’s likely safer today than he was yesterday with you here.”

“Debatable. Prioritizing isn’t the same if he’s at risk like this.” Nova pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping the screen until his Babbler was pulled up. “No one’s run with the theory that I’m teaching, at least.”

“They’re a smaller tabloid. If a more credible source had voiced that theory, it’d gain more traction.” Shouta didn’t like the tabloids but he kept track of them. Musutafu Daily was a particularly sharp thorn that liked to target UA students and staff for rumor mongering.

Honestly, Nova being a teacher was one of their tamer ideas. Snipe still had a grudge about them saying he wore a mask because his eyes were actually rifle scopes. Keeping Hadou from raining chaos on them when they tried to run a story about her life before UA had been a headache and a half in itself.

“You think they’re just trying to get page views?” Nova asked.

“You don’t?” He didn’t understand media motivations, but he knew the tabloid sites full of advertisements got something out of people visiting their pages.

He shrugged. “If people know UA has a full staff, they’d have to guess who was retiring for me to fill a spot. Obvious answer is All Might, since he’s retired as a Pro and can’t use his Quirk anymore. General trust in UA has wavered since the USJ; if the Symbol of Peace leaves, it’ll crumble.”

Shouta stared at him. Nova held his gaze, entirely serious.

All that from a single tabloid headline?

“You’d do well in the underground,” he said after a minute. It wasn’t for the first time.

Nova grinned. “You know as well as I do that a Todoroki can’t get out of the limelight,” he replied, almost bitterly.

He was odd for a limelight hero. Shouta knew a lot of them – more than he’d like to, since he was tagged in to aid in missions involving students – and most viewed underground work as a sort of necessary evil. Dirty and dark and borderline dishonorable, working in the shadows to gather intel by any means necessary.

Nova was one of the few that didn’t. He was the go-to liaison for Endeavor Agency when underground work overlapped with theirs, usually ending up on the resulting missions. Shouta had watched him chew out rookies and kick them back to their agency for criticizing undergrounders during debriefs before.

Most legacy heroes preferred high profile cases, especially in their parents’ agencies. Nova seemed to avoid them. He had his patrol route in the daylight, had a known presence, but he’d never broached further than the top fifty, never tried to make himself stand out more than he couldn’t avoid. The only missions he’d taken in the past year that had news coverage and nationwide eyes were Stain and the rescue operation.

“I’ll keep an eye out for discord,” Shouta said. “You should relax a bit. You have my number if you need anything.”

Nova nodded, leaving Shouta alone in the hallway. He checked the time and sighed. Maybe he could rest while his students reviewed.

Shouto sneezed, frost spewing from his mouth. Behind him, Touya made a sound and shoved a box of tissues at him.

“Snowflake sneezes,” he teased, messing up Shouto’s hair. “Did the soup help?”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Still cold. It hurts to breathe.”

Touya rubbed his back, heat radiating from his hand. Shouto shivered. Chills ran down his spine and he sneezed again. He leaned into Touya, desperate for warmth.

“You can go back to sleep,” Touya said. “I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Shouto frowned and picked up his phone. “Not yet,” he mumbled. His phone kept buzzing; the group chat was active, despite the number of them that were sick.

Alien Queen: Lunch Rush is my new favorite hero

Alien Queen: that was the best soup I’ve ever eaten

Kacchan: >:(

Alien Queen: spices, king. so many spices

Octopus: I’ve watched you bite into a lemon like it was an apple but spices are an issue?

Alien Queen: acid > spices

Kacchan: you’re an abomination

Alien Queen: you crawled out of hell first

Deku: can confirm

Kacchan: shut the fuck up Deku

elphaba: are you guys allergic to resting while you’re sick?

zapdos: i can only sleep so long

zapdos: also kyouka has the best playlists and I wanna listen to them

ears: you flatter me

zapdos: ;3

insomnicat: 10/10 tunes, very soothing

Deku: what are we missing in class

Sonic: Individual study and review. Mr. Aizawa doesn’t want all of you to fall behind.

elphaba: how much do you wanna bet he’ll cancel class now that we’re down to nine people

Alien Queen: no bet

ears: who else is sick? It was ten this morning

Sonic: Aoyama. he went to Recovery Girl before lunch.

Tapebows: so was anyone gonna tell me Todoroki’s hero brother was in the dorms or was I just supposed to find that out from Mr. Aizawa myself

Sonic: He came this morning to clean up the ice Todoroki was leaving everywhere.

Alien Queen: he piggybacked Todoroki around the common room while he melted the ice

Alien Queen: ngl it was cute

elphaba: I might have a picture of it

Tapebows: He stayed apparently, I heard him talking to Mr. Aizawa in the hall

rock hard: anything interesting?

Tapebows: no but he has a nice voice

zapdos: gay

Tapebows: I know you are but what am I

insomnicat: queer, presumably

Tapebows: fuck they got me

Alien Queen: Hanta!! Do you have a crush on older-roki?? ~~

Tapebows: no I just know a nice voice when I hear one

ears: he’s got a good aesthetic

zapdos: ^^

zapdos: those piercings

insomnicat: I can see it

Alien Queen: that photoshoot of him in leather jackets with Hawks though

zapdos: oh god mood. fuckin leather

insomnicat: ^

Tapebows: ^

ears: ^

birb: Hawks’ style is only acceptable if someone else is dressing him

Kacchan: better than denim

rock hard: ooh, shading jeanist?

Kacchan: just speaking facts

Vulpix: :/

Vulpix: This is not what I expected to open the chat to

ears: sorry!! i thought you were sleeping

insomnicat: do the piercings pose any risk in hero work?

zapdos: you want piercings?

insomnicat: yeah. Mom thinks it’d be fine but Pops thinks they’d hurt in a fight

Vulpix: Touya says he’s never had a problem with the piercings but swapping studs for hoops could create problems

Vulpix: And that lip piercings can mess up your teeth if someone punches them

insomnicat: I’m thinking septum and ears, possibly eyebrow

Vulpix: He says to be careful of septum piercings since someone can grab them and rip them out. Ears are usually a bit safer and eyebrows are iffy if you’re close-combat oriented

Tapebows: ask him if he kept the leather jacket that denki’s horny for

Tapebows: I HEARD THAT THROUGH THE WALL

zapdos: I’M NOT HORNY FOR IT

insomnicat: denki is bright red

Tapebows: Todoroki are you okay?

Vulpix: That was Touya hitting the wall. He was laughing very hard

Vulpix: He says he wasn’t allowed to keep the leather jacket

Vulpix: He also agrees with @birb that Hawks has terrible style. Dad is working on it

birb: at least someone is

zapdos: rude

zapdos: I can’t believe I don’t have any friends

Kacchan: at least his style isn’t as bad as shitty hair’s

Kacchan: can someone make sure the nerd hasn’t died of excitement

Deku: excuse you I’m not that bad

rock hard: what even did I do

Alien Queen: existed in his proximity with an unpolished fashion sense

Kacchan: only because you’ve met him before

ears: if you don’t wanna be dragged don’t be horny in the group chat

elphaba: he’s got you there, deku

elphaba: you asked ryukyu like twenty questions about transformation quirks in the first five minutes of meeting her

zapdos: ;-;

Deku: in my defense, it was ryukyu

Deku: she’s really cool

elphaba: i mean you’re not wrong but still

Deku: Shouto do you think he’d be okay with me asking him a few questions about his Quirk?

Vulpix: He says when you’re not sick

Deku: !!!

Tails: I would like to return to Mina eating a lemon like an apple

Alien Queen: lemons are tasty what’s your point

Vulpix: Like an apple?

Octopus: She peeled it and instead of dividing the wedges, just bit into it

Tails: that’s horrifying

Vulpix: aren’t lemons extremely tart?

Alien Queen: i. like. acid.

birb: is this similar to Hawks eating obscene amounts of fried chicken?

Vulpix: Touya says he’s just committed to the bit

Vulpix: he also will not explain to me what that means until I take a nap

Tails: not to be the nag friend but shouldn’t most of you be resting?

Deku: I have trouble sleeping when I’m sick

Alien Queen: ngl a nap sounds good

Alien Queen: eijirou fell asleep on me ten minutes ago and he’s like a weighted blanket

ears: god same. hitoshi turned me into a pillow when denki went to get a sweatshirt

zapdos: cuddles help when you feel sick

ears: then why the fuck are you still down the hall

zapdos: im on my way!!

Izuku wasn’t really expecting to see anyone. He’d gone to the common room to borrow one of the electric blankets once the chat had started to taper off. He was well aware that the rest of his classmates were likely reviewing math with Ectoplasm and wouldn't log back on for a while. It was the perfect time to leave his room to grab what he needed from the first floor.

Topical pain creams only did but so much, it seemed. His arms and legs felt better, but he didn’t have the flexibility to put it on his back, and his heating pad was too small to cover his chest and back at the same time.

He’d be fine so long as he kept the blanket wrapped around just his torso, right?

He winced going down the hall, opting for the elevator over the stairs. When it opened, Touya Todoroki stared at him.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asked dully. Bored as he looked, his blue eyes were sharp, scanning Izuku up and down.

Izuku faltered, shuffled into the elevator, and hit the already-lit button for the first floor. “I was just running to the common room,” he said nervously, “to borrow one of the heated blankets.”

The only response he got was a raised eyebrow. He fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. He’d met Touya before, sure, but most of those instances had been backed by dire threats. Seeing him in a casual setting, in a t-shirt and loose sweats instead of the intimidating black and blue hero costume, was different.

The door opened on the ground floor and Touya went out first, disappearing into the kitchen. Izuku peeked in to see him fiddling with an electric kettle. A few mugs were scattered on the counter with tea strings draped over the sides.

“You’re not using your Quirk?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

Touya shook his head. “It would just make a mess,” he said. “The mugs are too small and finding the right temperature for my fire is too much trouble. The kettle is easier.” He pointed at Izuku with one of the mugs. Did he know the All Might mug was Izuku’s or had he just grabbed mugs at random and happen to pick that one? “Honey in your tea?”

“You don’t have to –”

“Not what I asked, Midoriya. Honey, yes or no?”

“Yes, please.” He wasn’t as familiar with Touya as he was with Shouto, but he knew better than to argue. They were both the same when they got an idea in their head – driven and focused and unrelenting.

It had been useful in Hosu.

He picked up a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders with the cord in his hand. The kettle clicked off after a few minutes, followed by the sound of pouring water.

Touya, instead of handing him a mug off the tray balanced on one hand, took him by the wrist with his free hand and dragged him to the elevator. He didn’t let go of his wrist or provide any explanation. Rough, calloused skin didn’t match the warm, gentle grip.

It soothed some of the ache in his joints. He could understand why Shouto would want to cling to him if he radiated that much warmth naturally.

He let go of his wrist to open Shouto’s door, all but pushing him in ahead of him. Shouto, sitting on the bed, tilted his head in confusion as Touya set the mugs on his desk.

“I have to make a few phone calls,” he said. “Keep each other company.”

With that, he disappeared into the hall, leaving Izuku and Shouto alone.

Izuku handed Shouto a mug of tea, both sitting in silence as they drank their mugs.

A good thought on Touya’s part. The warmth spread through his chest and the honey soothed his throat. Izuku set the empty mugs on the desk. “What do you think he would have done if I hadn’t been going to the common room for a blanket?”

Shouto shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “You can sit with me on if you’d like to stay. There’s a spare outlet near the foot.”

Izuku plugged the blanket in, settling beside Shouto on the futon and holding the blanket out. “We can share,” he said. “Everyone said you were cold.”

Shouto smiled at him – small, barely there, but enough for Izuku to see – and scooted closer. He was cold, worryingly so, but seemed able to breathe.

“You’re feverish,” he mumbled in Izuku’s ear. “Is the heat a good idea for you?”

“Sore muscles,” he whispered. “The heat helps with the ache.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow. “Icy Hot wasn’t enough for you?” he asked, voice low.

Izuku felt his face flush warmer and just knew his face was probably bright red. “It worked for my limbs,” he said, pulling his arms out to rest on top of the blanket, “but I couldn’t get it on my back, and I didn’t want to use it on my chest.”

Shouto hummed, slowly putting an arm around his shoulders. It was cold, but heavy. Izuku shifted his arm so it was looped around his neck and tucked his head under Shouto’s chin.

Perfect. The cold soothed his neck and forehead, making the fever more tolerable.

“Comfortable?” Shouto mumbled. His breath ruffled Izuku’s hair, a chill touching the tips of his ears that ran down his spine.

“Mm. We should sleep.”

By the time Touya returned they were both asleep, frost dancing in the air around them. The bed dipped, just noticeable enough for Izuku to open one eye and see Touya settle on Shouto’s other side. Neither spoke as Izuku slipping back into a deep sleep while Touya let his Quirk warm the room. It soothed the ache in his body, though he knew the odd sleeping position would create new soreness when he woke up. Despite that, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Rolling her neck until it popped, Kyouka looked at Hitoshi and Denki. The three of them were all in Hitoshi’s dorm, her phone plugged into a speaker with folk rock playing at a low volume. It wasn’t what she’d expected Hitoshi to pick; she knew they liked rock music, heavier and harder and faster than this, but Hitoshi had recognized the album art and asked for it while she was scrolling through her library. Acoustic guitar and subtle bass filled the air around them with English lyrics she only half understood.

Now Denki was sprawled across their laps, their game in hand, while Kyouka was tucked into Hitoshi’s side, their head resting on top of hers while they slept. One of her earphone jacks was stretched across their shoulders, where she could feel their pulse line up with hers.

Hitoshi had listened to her grumble and wheeze for a few minutes before sitting on the bed and inviting her to sit beside them. Leaning against them was better than leaning against the wall, though the arm around her waist had long since gone limp and slid down to rest on her hip.

It was comfortable – unreasonably comfortable, considering how much it still hurt to breathe. She couldn’t lay down without her lungs deciding they wouldn’t fill with air, more inclined to crush her chest with internal weight.

Denki smiled at her when she sank her fingers into their hair, stroking blond locks with deft motions.

“Want another cough drop?” they asked. Their voice was barely above a whisper, quiet so they wouldn’t wake Hitoshi, but it was crystal clear in her ears. Benefits to a hearing Quirk. Every sound came through in perfect stereo. She nodded, letting them unwrap it for her.

Honey and lemon. It soothed the rawness in the back of her throat, though not enough that she had her voice back.

“Thanks,” she said, voice low and hoarse. She winced hearing it, mouth twisting into a frown.

Denki reached up, brushing a finger against her jaw. “You okay?” they asked.

A dumb question, considering the flu they all shared, but she knew what they were really asking. She shrugged a shoulder. “My voice is wrong.” It was low naturally, but the thick, deep quality – she could avoid that, most of the time. She was successful, most of the time. Most of the class didn’t know what she was hiding.

Denki knew. Hitoshi knew. They wouldn’t give her shit for it.

She still didn’t like it.

Stupid fucking flu.

Denki hummed, their finger moving to brush against her cheekbone. It was warm, thrumming with electricity she doubted they were fully aware of.

Every little sound, from the words they spoke to the hum in their bones.

“You just sound sick,” they said after a second. “Some rest, these cough drops, some medicine should help. Maybe Momo will offer some tea.”

“Tea would be nice,” she murmured.

She’d heard Mina’s voice, how it had gotten wispy and airy with the hoarseness. She couldn’t mimic that, despite her best efforts. Kyouka sounded like there was a frog in her throat, no offense to Tsu.

She leaned into Denki’s hand, letting them spread their palm across her cheek. The hum of their Quirk didn’t match the pace of their heart. Their heart was beating, steady thumps like a drum. The hum was a constant note, getting higher or lower depending on the amount of electricity they had stored up.

She hummed alongside it; she couldn’t match the note exactly, but she could try. High, reaching the range where they’d have to discharge soon. She couldn’t hold the note comfortably, but she could feel the vibration in her throat, how it caught when she ran out of breath.

“Still a pretty voice,” Hitoshi murmured into her hair. She flushed pink, the tips of her ears going warm.

“Can’t sing with this stupid bug,” she said.

“A shame,” Hitoshi said. “You probably know the best lullabies.”

She let a puff of air out through her nose, glancing at the speaker. The album had looped twice, the opening notes starting for a third time. She pointed at it for Denki to pass it to her.

“Same artist or different?” she asked. Denki twisted to look at the screen.

“Same,” Hitoshi murmured. “They’ve got more albums.”

“Do you have a favorite?” Denki asked.

Hitoshi shrugged. “Mom likes their third album best. Pops likes the first. I haven’t listened closely enough to decide.”

They’d both suggested the artist to Kyouka, not that it ever came up talking to Hitoshi. One night, when they first moved into the dorms, when she couldn’t sleep and thought a cup of tea might help, she’d found Present Mic and Loud Cloud in the kitchen with stacks of papers to grade, cups of tea going cold, and one of their phones playing English pre-Quirk songs that she could only start to decipher. They'd seemed surprised at her interest but wrote down the artist for her when she asked.

It was tones and emotions more than words to her ears. English music often was – any song in another language was. The instruments were a constant, though. Her ability to pick out the notes to play by ear wasn’t because of her Quirk; years of playing and listening and practicing let her do that.

It took a lot of listening to understand what the singers were saying, but the emotions rang true.

She twitched her fingers, wishing she had her guitar. Her throat hurt too much to hum, let alone sing, but she could still play. She settled for running them through Denki’s hair. It was soft against the callouses on the pads of her fingers.

Hitoshi tapped the fifth song down, filling the room with gentle acoustic guitar. A man’s voice sang first, then a woman’s, singing their conversation in overlapping harmonies. Their voices tangled together like a braid, twining and meeting but still independent, each singing their own verse.

They sang about children, their worries and fears for them. She’d looked up the lyrics once, better able to pick out the words once she knew what they were. Some of them she still missed when listening, the simultaneous verses difficult to follow, but the message remained.

Denki was quiet in her lap, worrying their lip with their teeth. She stretched out her free earphone jack to drape it over their shoulder. They wrapped it around their fingers, playing with it absentmindedly. She fought the urge to shiver, painfully aware of her heartbeat changing pace. They didn’t stop chewing their lip, but their heartbeat slowed just a bit.

There were footsteps and murmurs outside, just barely audible. Someone at the end of the hall, then, moving with heavier footsteps than Mr. Aizawa.

How he moved silently was a question Kyouka wanted an answer to. He usually tried to make some noise if he knew he was approaching her, but he’d startled her earlier when he knocked on Hitoshi’s door.

She tried not to think about the comment he’d made to Hitoshi. Clearly, she wasn’t meant to hear it; it was the sort of thing her mom would say to her, but it was weird hearing her teacher say something like that, even if she knew Hitoshi was his kid. His face when he’d walked off made her think he’d forgotten she could hear everything.

Most people did, to be fair. The things she’d heard people say when they didn’t know she could hear them was astounding. Mr. Aizawa usually remembered, though.

He looked like he regretted that he’d forgotten, in that brief moment of eye contact. His heart rate had picked up the slightest bit, too.

“Door,” she mumbled, pointing at it with her earphone jack. Hitoshi glanced up as someone knocked.

“Hello?” Momo’s voice came through the closed door a second later. “I brought some tea for you.”

Denki scrambled to let her in, taking the tray and fiddling with the mugs. Momo took a step inside, eyes flickering around the room before settling on Kyouka and Hitoshi, still half-cuddling on the bed.

Kyouka could hear her breath stutter and wondered what she was thinking.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?” Hitoshi asked.

Momo smiled. “I’m afraid I already have a fever,” she said. “Mr. Aizawa got a thermometer from Recovery Girl, one of those ones you can point at people, and told me not to worry about class tomorrow.”

Instinctively, Kyouka reached out a hand, beckoning her over. She could hear the hoarseness in her voice, the shallow breaths she was taking. When she pressed the back of her hand against Momo’s forehead, it was clammy and hot.

Stupid fucking flu.

She patted the spot beside her. Hitoshi shifted their arm from Kyouka’s waist to her shoulders, letting Momo tuck herself against Kyouka, bent knees resting on her thigh.

“I’m gonna throw a bunch of volts at the garden,” Denki said after handing them each a mug of tea. “Need me to grab anything on my way?”

“Heated blanket,” Hitoshi requested.

Kyouka twirled her jack around her finger. “There’s a book in the common room,” she said. “The softcover from the other day. Watercolor cover.” She sipped the tea, thankful for how the warm honey soothed her throat.

“I’m okay, Denki, thank you,” Momo said, her cheek resting against Kyouka’s shoulder.

They flashed a thumbs up and disappeared, footsteps fading down the hall. Immediately, Hitoshi lowered their mug and looked at Kyouka and Momo.

“They seem off to you?” they asked.

Momo shook her head while Kyouka nodded. “A bit. I thought it was the flu mellowing them out, though.”

Hitoshi hummed. “Maybe,” they said after a moment.

She’d heard their whispers to Mr. Aizawa in the hall. Something had happened before Kyouka had joined them, but neither of them gave any hint to Kyouka what they thought it was.

“You don’t think so?” Momo asked.

Hitoshi shook their head the smallest bit, wincing at the motion. “They got weird yesterday,” they said. “I wanted to talk to Dad about them, but he said to wait ‘til we feel better.”

Momo nodded. “If it’s the flu making them act different, then they’ll be back to normal once they feel better.”

“Let’s hope,” Hitoshi murmured. Behind Kyouka, they stretched their arm out further, pointing at the headboard. “Hand me that pill bottle? Fuckin’ migraines.”

Kyouka patted their knee, holding their mug while they shook out a few tablets that were washed down with tea and a grimace. Momo set the bottle aside, quick to rest her head against Kyouka’s shoulder again.

Hitoshi tucked a strand of hair behind Momo’s ear, fiddling with the end, their head resting on top of Kyouka’s.

She had a feeling when they returned, Denki would reclaim her lap again, solidifying her status as the pillow among them.

It was a nice feeling.

Alien Queen: final count?

ears: we have claimed momo

ears: she promises to text the lectures from today to whoever wants them

zapdos: she also says you can make yourselves tea from her stash if you’d like

ears: be reasonable

Tapebows: translation: don’t be greedy or you’ll get an earphone jack to the eye

ears: :)

Kacchan: noted

Sonic: I feel fine, but Kouda had a fever and went to bed early.

Octopus: I also have a fever. Fumi and Dark Shadow are keeping me company

elphaba: hey denki why were you kneeling in the garden with Aizawa watching you from the porch

zapdos: electricity go brrrr

elphaba: ??

zapdos: too much electricity stored up. had to discharge it so i wouldn’t knock out the power next time i sneezed

elphaba: ah. do you feel any better?

zapdos: my entire body hurts but the buzzing has lessened and I have three cuddle buddies

ears: two of whom are asleep

zapdos: are you comfy being the collective pillow?

ears: like having three warm weighted blankets

Yoshi: I’m jealous.

Yoshi: I just have a heated blanket but keep almost hibernating. Mr. Aizawa keeps coming by to make sure I can still wake up.

elphaba: I can sit with you if you’d like tsu

elphaba: I don’t have a fever but I have a cough that made Aizawa throw a bag of cough drops at me

elphaba: like he actually yeeted the bag at me from across the room

Yoshi: That would be nice. 🐸

Kacchan: weak, round cheeks

elphaba: fight me blasty

Kacchan: fuck no you’ll infect me with the plague

Kacchan: fight me when you’re not sick

Tails: I can’t tell if that’s a threat or not

elphaba: you’d get it if you had a brawling buddy

Tails: my sparring partners are both sick?

elphaba: not the same thing

Tails: what’s the difference

Kacchan: restraint

elphaba: how hard you push

Tails: noted

Ochaco tucked her phone into her pocket before knocking on Tsu’s door. She’d grabbed a couple tea bags and mugs on her way to grab her blanket and mittens. She knew Tsu had an electric kettle they could use.

Should she have grabbed snacks? She only had basics in her room, but there was the cupboard Tsu had marked in the kitchen that had all the things she liked that were due to her mutations. Ochaco didn’t need honey with flies in it, but maybe Tsu would want some? She’d grabbed her normal honey, but she could run down to get the bug honey.

The door opened and she gasped. Tsu was hunched over, more than normal, and very pale from where her face peeked out of her blanket.

“You’re so pale!” Ochaco hurried in, setting everything down. “I brought tea, to help with your temperature, but I can run downstairs and get soup or something.”

She shook out the blanket on her bed, wrapping it around Tsu’s shoulders overtop her heated blanket. It was cute – yellow, patterned with tree frogs. It didn’t match her galaxy print blanket at all.  

“That’s okay,” she croaked, voice barely above a whisper. “Mr. Aizawa said he’d bring more soup by in a bit.”

Ochaco nodded, finding Tsu’s kettle and filling it from her sink. She babbled as she made the tea. “Is normal honey okay? I know you have the one with flies in it, I can run down and get it if you want, I didn’t think of it until I got up here –”

Tsu shook her head, reaching out to take one of Ochaco’s hands. “Regular honey is great, ribbit,” she said.

Ochaco blinked, swiping her thumb along Tsu’s knuckles. “Do you want me to go? Once the tea’s ready?”

Tsu shook her head. “I’d like it if you sat with me,” she said. “All I’ve done is sleep. Maybe you can tell me what’s been going on? I haven’t checked the chat too often.”

Ochaco smiled and squeezed her hand. “Of course.”

Katsuki knew his body’s typical functions as well as he knew his Quirk’s abilities. He knew he ran warmer than most, his body doing its best to produce more sweat, and that his usual temperature felt feverish to most.

He also knew how to tell when he was getting too warm for it to be safe. He’d heard Aizawa talking to IcyHot’s hero brother about keeping an eye on their temperatures, something about lasting damage if their fevers went too high. Waking up drenched in sweat told him all he needed to know, but he still pretended he was fine.

Aizawa took one look at Katsuki stumbling through the kitchen in the morning and used his scarf to keep him from falling face-first into the counter before pulling out a thermometer – one of the ones he could point at people instead of sticking it in their mouths – and told him to go to back to bed.

He needed to cool off. He didn’t give much of a shit about his sore throat. He was just too damn hot. He could do without the dizziness and nausea, too.

Too goddamn hot. He doubted Aizawa would be fine with him camping out on his balcony. He still didn’t want to take his hoodie off. Too much risk of being seen.

IcyHot’s brother was still in the kitchen, talking to Aizawa. Did that mean IcyHot was upstairs alone?

Katsuki ran warm. IcyHot was running cold. Maybe they could help each other.

The top floor was quiet. Most of the floors were, but with Muffin Man asleep and both IcyHot and Washi Tape sick, there weren’t even quiet noises leaking into the hall. Maybe they were all asleep.

Maybe he shouldn’t have sat with Deku for so long, but the nerd took forever to eat his soup and Katsuki didn’t want to leave the bowl behind. It was easier to wash it if food didn’t dry on it.

Not to mention the quiet in his room. Shitty Hair and Queenie were talkative, even when Katsuki wasn’t. Deku knew when to stop being chatty and shut up, even before Katsuki reached the point of taking out his hearing aids.

IcyHot looked confused when he opened the door. Deku, wrapped up in a blanket on his bed, didn’t, even though this wasn’t even his dorm.

Fuck. He should’ve gone to Shitty Hair.

No, he would’ve asked questions, too. Probably would’ve started fretting and worrying even though he’d gotten sick first.

“Did Touya send you up here too?” Deku asked. He tried to sign while he talked but kept wincing. Pain from old breaks, probably. Maybe Katsuki should have left his hearing aids in.

“What? No.” Katsuki swayed, balling his hands into fist at his sides before shoved them in his hoodie pocket. “I’m… fuck. Nevermind.”

“Is something wrong?” IcyHot asked.

Yes. “No,” Katsuki grunted. “Just looking for Deku,” he lied.

“At five am?” IcyHot asked.

“You found me,” Deku said. “What do you need?”

He chewed on his lip, looking at the door. IcyHot looked between the two of them, eyebrows drawn together in the smallest confused expression Katsuki had ever seen.

Probably a big display for him.

“Kacchan?” Deku sat up, reaching out for him. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Do you feel ill?” IcyHot asked.

Katsuki huffed. “Yeah. Thanks, nerd.” His hands were sweating – too much, more than they should, even though the room was fucking cold.

Should’ve found his bracers. Make use of the sweat, store it away for later. Wasting it was stupid, especially in winter.

“You chose to sit with me,” Deku reminded him, voice scratchy and petulant.

“Why the fuck are you up here, anyway?” Katsuki asked.

“Touya kidnapped me to sit with Shouto while he made phone calls,” he explained. “The cold feels nice.” He tipped his head to the side, eyeing Katsuki’s hoodie pocket.

Nerd fucking knew he could only half hear them. He was probably waiting for Katsuki to switch to sign.

“You seem uncomfortable,” IcyHot said. Katsuki glared at him. IcyHot’s face didn’t change.

When Katsuki pulled out a hand to flip him off, he grabbed it, cold spreading from his skin to Katsuki’s.

“You’re warm,” he said, tracing a finger along Katsuki’s palm.

Katsuki shivered. He wasn’t freezing the sweat on his palm or the sweat glands, but the chill was slowing his sweat production.

He was also standing way too fucking close; his entire side was practically touching Katsuki’s front, a few scant centimeters between them.

The cold air spilling off of him was the only reason Katsuki didn’t shove him away. It soothed the nausea, despite the rolling in his stomach.

“You’re cold,” he mumbled.

“Kacchan, Shouto, just sit on the bed,” Deku said after a minute. “Shouto’s cold and we’re both hot.” Fucker sounded impatient. Katsuki forgot how cranky he could be in the mornings.

“I am, at least,” Katsuki said, biting his cheek once the comment slipped from his mouth. Deku rolled his eyes and IcyHot just tilted his head at him.

Shitty Hair would have laughed. Queenie probably would’ve given him the wide grin and made a similar joke – probably affirming his claim or lumping herself in with him.

He still let IcyHot pull him toward the bed, settling beside him. He seemed content to be tucked between them, with Deku latching onto his left side and Katsuki leaning beside him, his hands still trapped by icy fingers tracing nonsense patterns.

“Do you sweat more when you have a fever?” IcyHot asked quietly. Close proximity made him easier to hear, at least.

“Yeah. Should’ve found something to catch it. It’s just a waste now.”

He looked thoughtful. Deku had already fallen asleep, his head tucked under IcyHot’s chin, but IcyHot didn’t seem inclined to sleep. He just kept dragging his fingers along Katsuki’s palm, figure eights and lines that didn’t mean anything. The cold would shrink his sweat glands to some degree, but it wouldn’t stop him from sweating entirely.

Unbidden, his mind brought forth an image of the hag holding his hands in hers, their Quirks mixing in front of the fireplace while Dad cooked dinner.

The door creaked open and Nova walked in. He raised an eyebrow at Katsuki, gaze falling to their hands.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Bakugou runs hot,” IcyHot said. “I’m very cold. What would happen if you burned off his excess sweat?”

“An explosion.” His voice was flat and dry. To Katsuki, he said, “I can do precision fire, but I’m not familiar enough with your Quirk to be comfortable trying to burn off extra nitroglycerin. I’d rather not hurt you, and I think Eraser would prefer if we didn’t blow up the building.”

Katsuki froze, his hand going tense before he ripped it away from IcyHot. Nova leaned forward, one hand outstretched.

“Easy, kid,” he said. “No one’s gonna set off your sparks but you.”

Katsuki ignored him, looking at IcyHot. He still wore the same expression, just the barest hint of confusion in his eyes. “You still can’t control your fuckin’ fire, can you?”

He blinked, opening his mouth and closing it as realization dawned on his face.

“I haven’t been able to use my fire at all,” he said softly. “Not while I’m sick, at least. I’ve been working on controlling it, though.” Gently, he pulled Katsuki’s hand away from his chest, holding it in his left palm to trace patterns with the fingers on his right. “I’m not going to blow you up.”

Still sitting across from them, Nova looked confused for half a second. “Shouto,” he said after a minute, “do you want me to stay? Dad’s fine with me leaving my patrol to Burnin’ if you still need me.”

Some of the shiny veneer had been stripped away from Pros since the start of the school year. Half of it was the incompetence of a lot of them, half of it was Eyebags telling them stuff about their parents and the other teachers, but it was still weird to see Nova look casual. Whenever Katsuki thought of him, infrequently as that was, it was him in his hero costume, blue fire spreading around him in the face of the League. He didn’t seem right, wearing a spare UA gym outfit and no socks.

And yet.

IcyHot stopped tracing patterns to reach for his brother, making a small whining sound until Nova sighed and scooted his chair closer.

“Fucking hell, I’m not getting in a bed with three teenagers, Shou,” he grumbled. He stretched his legs up onto the bed, leaning back in the chair.

IcyHot shoved his socked feet under his legs and made a grabby motion with one of his hands, still gripping Katsuki’s hand with the other. Nova sighed and took it, squeezing lightly. Blue fire flickered around his arm, swirling around their hands and wrists before dissipating. He smiled, still holding his brother’s hand as he sank into Katsuki, breath evening out as he fell asleep.

Great. Now he was stuck. He should’ve just braved Shitty Hair’s fussing.

At least IcyHot was cold. Fuck, he was radiating cold like a winter storm. No wonder they’d called in his brother, the idiot would freeze to death if someone with a heat Quirk didn’t keep his temperature from dropping.

He wiggled closer to Katsuki without waking up. Seeking heat or some shit, probably. Katsuki worked his left arm free, unpinning it before realizing the only place to put it was around IcyHot’s shoulders.

The cold felt decent against the uncomfortable heat, but it did little for his spinning head. Katsuki chewed on his tongue, eventually settling for leaning his forehead against IcyHot’s hair.

Why the fuck was his hair so soft?

“Do you need anything?” Nova asked, his voice difficult to parse. “You look like hell.”

“Room’s spinning,” Katsuki grunted through gritted teeth.

A warm hand moved his head to feel his cheek. He didn’t snap or bite at it, just glaring at the offending appendage.

Too hot. Too close. Too much contact, too much risk, too much –

“Shouto’s got popsicles in here,” Nova said, scooting his chair back to get into the little fridge by the desk. He held it out to Katsuki, face flat. “Should help you rehydrate and cool off.”

Katsuki accepted the popsicle, popping it in his mouth. Cherry, artificial and cold and sweet.

He’d almost expected wasabi, considering how much cold soba he’d seen IcyHot eat. It had taken a fucking month for Katsuki to convince him he needed to eat more than just soba and try one of the dinners he made. Idiot would have nutrition deficiencies if he didn’t eat more than just broth, noodles, scallions, and wasabi.

The popsicle helped his sore throat, at least. The dizziness eased and he let Nova take the stick from his hand to chuck in the trash.

“Remind me to throw his sheets in with mine,” Katuski muttered. “Nitroglycerin ain’t easy to wash out.”

“I’ll make sure you all don’t destroy the laundry machines,” Nova said without looking up from his phone. “Stop worrying and go to sleep.”

Katsuki frowned, consciousness slipping before he could argue.

Laptop set on the long kitchen island, Shouta watched as the last few students stumbled around with red noses and droopy eyes one at a time. He sent all of them back to bed, ending up with Iida and Ojiro being the only vaguely healthy students.

“I can’t hold a class with only two students,” he said, looking at his cup of coffee, “so you have a free day. If you need tutoring, to catch up on work, whatever, do what you want. Just don’t spread the flu around campus.”

They both wandered off, Ojiro returning with his last ethics assignment in hand. Iida didn’t return and Shouta assumed he was staying in his room to study. Ojiro was quick to understand where he’d gone wrong on his assignment and set about correcting it. Once he went upstairs to work on his other classes, Shouta had naught but silence, coffee, and the teacher chat on his laptop swiftly gaining notifications.

Snipe: The power went out in the North Wing. Which first year do I need to give detention to?

Present Mic: Wasn’t 1-A, they haven’t left the dorm. 1-C is clear, too, they’re taking an English test right now.

Power Loader: Wasn’t Hatsume, she’s been in the support lab with me all day

Vlad King: Sorry, it was Kuroiro. He was trying to see how small a shadow he could merge with.

Midnight: And he chose to try it on the wiring?

Vlad King: He chose to go into the vents and ended up in the wiring. Shishida found him by the circuit breaker. You can give him detention once Recovery Girl makes sure he hasn’t fried his brain.

Snipe: Every day I question why I became a teacher

Vlad King: Every day I question how these children have survived to high school

Present Mic: in 1-A’s case I’m pretty sure it’s just spite and obstinance

Loud Cloud: 1-A takes a week off of wreaking havoc and 1-B steps up almost immediately

Loud Cloud: I’d be proud if it weren’t so inconvenient

Power Loader: 1-A hasn’t taken off at all

Power Loader: Hatsume has fucking thermite and I know Yaoyorozu gave her the ingredients

Snipe: Why the fuck does Hatsume need thermite?

Loud Cloud: Better question. Why does Yaoyorozu know the ingredients of thermite?

Snipe: There are multiple kinds of thermite and she has internet access

Thirteen: Somehow that isn’t comforting

Power Loader: I don’t know why she needs it all I know is that I won’t let her use it so now I have thermite

Eraserhead: you’re questioning why the girl with cannons as her go to weapon knows how to make thermite?

Snipe: You threatened me under pain of death not to teach any of your kids how to use guns, but CANNONS are fine?

Eraserhead: she makes the cannons. I know firsthand she can make flashbangs. apparently, she’s expanding to smaller explosives. I would rather she not make guns as well

Snipe: Y’know what fair enough

Midnight: Guns are more portable and would use fewer fat cells than cannons

Eraserhead: please don’t encourage her to create untraceable weapons

Eraserhead: I have enough to worry about

Midnight: Is that her entire repertoire?

Power Loader: No

Power Loader: She and Hatsume made napalm last week

Snipe: Napalm’s easy you just need two ingredients

Power Loader: There was a fucking hole in the floor

Eraserhead: don’t let Yaoyorozu and Hatsume collaborate, got it

Eraserhead: tell me someone is keeping track of how many favors I owe because of this damn class because I gave up after the fifth microwave broke

Present Mic: napalm’s easy, he says

Snipe: Objectively it is

Thirteen: Cementoss has a spreadsheet you can look at, Eraser

Eraserhead: of course he does

Cementoss: I will consider it a personal favor if Bakugou and Todoroki don’t damage the dorm building while they’re sick.

Eraserhead: Nova’s watching them

Cementoss: Nova burnt down three gym buildings as a student. Forgive me if that doesn’t fill me with confidence.

Eraserhead: he’s had six years to hone his quirk with other fire users and kept Todoroki from freezing the building without anything catching fire

Cementoss: That is marginally comforting.

Snipe: I’d be more worried about Kaminari blowing the grid when they sneeze

Eraserhead: they go outside when they’ve built up some static to discharge into the ground

Thirteen: I would check on Ashido, her Quirk combined with the dysregulation illness can create worries me.

Eraserhead: she was alive and hadn’t melted her blanket mountain when I last checked on her. I’m going to check on all of them soon

Recovery Girl: Remember to let them sleep.

Eraserhead: hence why I am waiting to check on them. providing them with food during my checks takes away one of their reasons to leave their rooms

Lunch Rush: Togata will be delivering soup and rice soon.

Eraserhead: thank you

Snipe: What are their other reasons?

Eraserhead: showers, boredom, going to their friends’ rooms because gods forbid they be alone for a day

Present Mic: Most of them have never been sick away from home. They’re probably used to their parents comforting them when they don’t feel well

Loud Cloud: Don’t be mean to the lonely children

Eraserhead: fair enough. Hitoshi asks for a hug every time I check on them

Present Mic: If they give you the flu and you give it to me, I swear I will divorce you

Eraserhead: you won’t. besides, I don’t get sick

Midnight: bullshit

Loud Cloud: refusing to call it illness doesn’t mean you’re not sick

Present Mic: who exactly do you think you’re lying to

Snipe: Bullshit Eraser you’re a fucking menace when you’re sick

Power Loader: you’re a shit liar for an underground hero

Cementoss: That’s complete shit.

Vlad King: Bullshit Eraser

Eraserhead: I can’t believe Thirteen is my only friend

Spotting Togata approaching with Lunch Rush’s delivery, Shouta shut the laptop to relieve him of the giant pots of soup and rice. He waved off the offer to help distribute the food; Togata was still set to graduate at the end of the school year and the third years were in crunch to finish everything. He didn’t need to worry about the flu, too.

The boy’s side of the second floor was oddly quiet. Aoyama was disheveled, eyes puffy and red, and Shouta felt bad waking him up. He admitted that he’d slept most of the time since Shouta had checked on him last. Shouta made a note to make tea after hearing how hoarse his voice was.

Shouji was in Tokoyami’s room and Shouta wasn’t sure either of them actually woke up when he opened the door. Dark Shadow took the food he offered and poked him back into the hall once he laid eyes on them to confirm their presence, leaving them to dark silence.

They had food when they did wake up, at least. Recovery Girl had said to let them sleep.

Kouda just had a fever that had inched down since last night. Xyr rabbit – Yuwai, Shouta remembered – hopped over to sniff his feet, accepting a quick scratch behind the ears. Down the hall, Iida and Ojiro were working on their art history homework, both claiming to feel as fine as they did the day before.

The glasses of orange juice made him raise an eyebrow at them anyway. He reminded them to tell him if they needed anything and moved on to the fourth floor. Shouji’s room was empty, his schoolbag tucked inside. Next door, Kirishima and Ashido were lounging in their blanket pile, half-heartedly tapping on their phones.

“The flu sucks,” Ashido sniffed. She blew her nose, purple and dried out. He assumed she’d rubbed it raw from the pile of used tissues in the trash bin.

“Everyone’s quiet,” Kirishima said, holding up his phone. “Is everyone sick?”

“Except for Ojiro and Iida, yes.” Shouta pulled a fresh box of tissues from Kirishima’s desk and set it beside Ashido. “Most of your classmates are sleeping. You should do the same.”

Ashido nodded, dropping her head into the blankets. Kirishima slumped beside her, frowning as he set his phone aside.

Bakugou’s room was empty, despite Shouta having sent him back to bed. He frowned, running through his list of where other students had been. He’d have guessed Kirishima would have been Bakugou’s first choice for company, but he would have told him if Bakugou had joined them.

He didn’t know where Midoriya was, either, come to think of it. Part of him hoped they weren’t together. The pair were like cats; sometimes they got along like they were best friends, sometimes they tried to kill each other over nothing. With the inherent volatility of their Quirks possibly increasing with their illness, he really hoped they weren’t trying to kill each other somewhere.

Satou and Sero cracked their doors just enough for him to pass them their food. If they wanted to stay alone, that was up to them. He wouldn’t object when he could smell sweaty, sick teenager wafting through their doors.

Gods, he’d have to remind all of them to wash their sheets when they were healthy. He could only hope they were remembering to shower.

Nova looked relieved to see him. Todoroki was nestled between Bakugou and Midoriya – that’s where they’d gone, then – looking incredibly comfortable for someone who’d frozen half the building yesterday. All of them were asleep and looked very peaceful for being his most troublesome students.

“Shouto’s fever’s gone down. Or up, I guess,” Nova said. “Bakugou’s stopped sweating buckets so he’s not likely to explode. Midoriya’s mostly got muscle aches, but his blanket seems to help.” He spun his phone in his hand, tapping it on his knee. “How does Bakugou wash his sheets when he sweats explosives?”

“Distilled water,” Shouta replied. None of his students woke up, entirely unaware of his presence. “He has a process written down in the laundry room.”

Just the smell of food was usually enough to get Hitoshi to wake up. Shouta didn’t like how none of them roused, but Nova promised to make sure they ate when they woke up.

Yaoyorozu’s room was empty while Uraraka was in Asui’s. Neither were floating or bordering on hibernation, and Uraraka was decently coherent despite her horrible cough. The dishes neatly stacked outside her door for him to take told him they’d found tea at some point, though he didn’t know when.

Jirou’s room was empty like he expected. Hagakure was harder to find – she didn’t move from the mound of blankets on her bed and barely made a noise to let him know she was in there.

Fucking invisibility.

She asked him to leave the soup on the desk and if he could give her cough drops when he came back. It was hard to gauge her status when he only had the sound of her voice to go off of, but he still tried. As far as he could tell, her flu was one of the milder cases.

On the second floor, he found Kaminari stumbling out of their room with a blanket around their shoulders and their hair sticking up a thousand directions. They made eye contact, blinked, and sneezed. Overhead, the lightbulbs burst and went dark.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered, voice half-gone. “I was trying to get outside but everything’s spinning and fuzzy and –”

They swayed dangerously on their feet, pitching forward. Shouta caught them before they slammed their head into the wall, sliding them to the floor and putting the back of his hand against their forehead.

Fever. A high fever, one he’d have to watch if it didn’t break on its own. They sniffled, leaning into his hand.

Don’t be mean to the lonely children, Oboro had said.

He wasn’t sure he had it in him to be mean to anyone who looked as miserable as Kaminari did.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

They tried, legs shaking dangerously. Shouta stooped to let them lean against him. They ignored their room in favor of shuffling into Hitoshi’s. Immediately, Yaoyorozu beckoned Kaminari to her, letting them lay their head in her lap. Hitoshi looked at him with bleary eyes, pinned down by a sleeping Jirou.

He left them for a second to retrieve the cart of food. Twenty students accounted for, and only one Quirk mishap. Blown fuses were old hat for him by now. He just had to feed these last few before checking the breaker.

Hitoshi had managed to wiggle free of Jirou when he returned. She was laying across Kaminari, head tilted back at an angle that would certainly make her neck sore later.

“They were heading into the garden to discharge,” Hitoshi said softly, tucking themselves into Shouta’s side. He lifted a hand to ruffle their hair. Their face, hidden by his neck, was warm as Kaminari’s.

“Have you all got fevers?” he whispered, glancing at Yaoyorozu, who was quickly falling asleep.

“Mm. Been sleeping them off.” Hitoshi’s breath rattled in their chest.

“I’ll bring by more medicine for your fever and cough. Try to eat and rest.” He kissed their temple and made sure they were safely in bed before leaving. They had their friends to stay with them. They didn’t need Shouta to hover like an overbearing dad, however much he wanted to linger.

He left the cart by the elevator, running across Nova in the stairwell. He had a small blue flame in his hand that he put out when he saw Shouta.

“Kaminari sneezed and knocked out the power,” he said. Nova’s shoulders dropped the smallest bit. “I’m going to check the breaker.”

Nova sighed. “My three are solidly asleep,” he said, “and Shouto’s not putting out as much cold today. I can leave him alone for a bit if you need help doing anything, bar grading papers.”

Shouta waved to the soup cart. “If you can stick this in the elevator when the power comes on, I’d appreciate it. I have to go to Recovery Girl to get more cough drops and fever medicine.”

“I can start on some tea for the gremlins,” Nova said. “Midoriya was mumbling about not touching a stash if I did, before he fell asleep.”

“Yaoyorozu’s tea stash,” he said. “It’s in a labelled cupboard. The one beside the fridge has the other teas.”

Resetting the circuit breaker was simple. The lights and heat came back on with a hum, sating his worry about the students freezing in their dorms. With Nova in the kitchen, he didn’t feel as guilty leaving them alone in the dorms for a while.

Cold air blew past him, making him duck his face behind his scarf. It was freezing, sharp wind biting through his jumpsuit to make him shiver. Winter hadn’t been this cold before. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

Shuzenji waved him toward her supply closet, letting him take what he needed. Fever medicine, painkillers, cough drops. He dumped it into a plastic tub, counting to make sure there was enough for every kid.

“Having fun?” Oboro hovered on a cloud outside the closet. He held his staff out, keeping Shouta from coming closer.

“I’m not ill, Oboro,” he said, knocking the staff away.

“You could be a carrier,” he said. “Or asymptomatic.”

“Did you need something?” He slid out of the closet, keeping a decent amount of space between them. The worry of contagions wasn’t unfounded, he had to admit.

He still didn’t like the distance it necessitated.

“Just checking on you.” Oboro let the cloud dissipate and sat on one of the beds. “And getting checked out by RG.”

Shouta rubbed the back of his neck. “Pain?”

“Some. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Oboro stretched, wincing as he did. He offered Shouta a pained smile. “Just a cold winter, is all. Don’t worry about me.”

He felt himself waver and shoved aside the urge to get closer. If he gave Oboro the flu, any pain he was in would just get worse. “I’ll always worry,” he said softly. “You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” Oboro waved a hand, plastering on a smile that almost looked genuine. Almost. “I’ve got Hizashi to fuss over me, Shou. You focus on those twenty sick kids that need you, okay?”

“So long as you take it easy,” he said. “How has Eri been?”

Oboro nodded. “No nightmares. She seems to understand that you have to watch your students, but I’m still not sure if she’s actually okay or if she’s afraid of rocking the boat and won’t tell us that she’s upset.”

Shouta sighed. “Remind me to call before her bedtime so I can talk to her? I don’t want her to think…”

He trailed off, searching for the words he wanted. It wasn’t like he could say she wasn’t taking a backseat when she was, from any perspective. He’d left her to Hizashi and Oboro while he focused on his class. Nightly phone calls from the dorms had been their only interaction since Sero had gotten sick; it was something he did the nights he stayed in the dorms anyway, but he tried not to stay consecutive nights. This many nights away from home was unprecedented since the dorms had been implemented, let alone since they’d taken Eri in.

“Will do,” Oboro said, cutting off his thoughts. “I’ll make sure she knows her dad still loves her.”

Shuzenji shooed Shouta out of her office. He tried to ignore the tug in his chest that made him want to turn on his heel and listen to her talk to Oboro. She’d probably just renew his painkiller prescription and tell Nedzu to pass more of his patrols to Hound Dog until it was warmer, the same as last winter, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging worry that this was the year something would go wrong.

It’d definitely fit in with the rest of the shit they’d gone through this year.

Hizashi was frowning at his desk in the teacher’s lounge when he ducked in. He didn’t hear Shouta come up behind him, his hearing aids charging on his desk. Night patrol must have run the battery dry.

He made sure to activate Erasure before tapping his shoulder. The startled shout Hizashi let out didn’t break anything, though he could have done without him slamming the chair back into his chest.

“So noisy,” Shouta huffed once he put his hearing aids in, leaning over the back of the chair. “What are you frowning at?”

“Radio stuff,” he replied. “I have to go to the station tomorrow and we’re still trying to work in Interview Hours to start next month.”

“Is that an issue of shifting ad space around the interviews or around scheduling heroes to come in for interviews?” Shouta asked.

Hizashi had scaled back the radio time dedicated to interviews since they adopted Hitoshi. Between three jobs and being a parent, some of his radio responsibilities had been axed so he could dedicate more time to his child – children, now.

With the whispers flying around, though, he’d brought up taking fewer patrols and doing more media work. He prided himself on having a near pristine public image; the events of the year had tainted that, criticisms of UA and heroes in general making the public’s trust in them waver. If Hizashi thought bringing back the Interview Hour would help, then Shouta would trust him.

“The latter,” Hizashi said. “Pre-recorded interviews are fine, we can stockpile those, but with how thin everyone’s spread, building that pile is going to take longer than I’d like.” He frowned and set his glasses down. “Interviewing UA staff will be easy, but finding times that won’t take the others from patrols or raids…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll figure it out. Or the station manager will. Or a clever intern. One of us will.”

Shouta squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll work out,” he said. “I won’t offer myself for an interview, though.”

Hizashi snorted. “I wouldn’t expect you to. How are the kids?”

“Sleeping, for the most part. Kaminari knocked out the power for a few minutes.” He let Hizashi take his hand, twining their fingers together. He’d painted his nails a dark red shade that reminded Shouta of Eri.

“One Quirk accident isn’t too bad,” Hizashi said. “Nova still watching Todoroki?”

“And Bakugou and Midoriya. They’ve made clusters.”

He squeezed Shouta’s fingers and kissed his knuckles before looking at him. “And how are you?”

Shouta paused. Part of him was tempted to brush the question off. Hizashi was going to have Oboro to worry about, not to mention Eri. He didn’t need to worry about Shouta from a distance.

The more rational part of him knew not answering would make him worry more.

“Tired,” he said, settling on vague answers. “Worried.”

“About the kids?”

Shouta nodded. “Them. Eri. Oboro.”

“Not me?” Hizashi teased, grinning at him.

“You’ve always been the most functional of us.” He picked up Hizashi’s glasses, cleaning the lenses before placing them on his nose. “I worry I’m pushing too much onto your plate.”

Hizashi’s voice was gentle when he said, “We share a plate, Shou.” He nudged his glasses into place. “Eri misses you, but she’s got me and Oboro, too.”

“He’s in more pain,” Shouta murmured.

“And he knows how to manage it,” Hizashi reminded him. “That’s why he went to Shuzenji today.” He tugged Shouta down to kiss his cheek, resting their foreheads together. “We’ll keep you in the loop. Worry about the kids, for now.”

Prioritizing concerns was a standard part of the hero curriculum. Injuries, infrastructure damage, bodily threats, Shouta knew how to assess a crisis situation and act accordingly with the best of them.

Sometimes he just wished he was better at prioritizing the more mundane situations like Hizashi and Oboro were.

For all he wanted to stay, Touya couldn’t beg off his patrols for a third day in a row. He had cases that needed his attention, ones he couldn’t just pass off to Burnin’ or anyone else, and some meetings couldn’t be rescheduled.

Eraser didn’t seem surprised or bothered when he admitted he had to leave.

“You stayed longer than I expected,” he said. “I appreciate the help.”

Touya waved a hand. “I’m always happy to help the brats,” he said. “Besides, not like you could’ve stopped Shouto from freezing to death. He should be better now, his fever’s leveled out, so he won’t go hypothermic.”

“Small mercies,” Eraser breathed into his coffee mug. He looked… bad.

Granted, he normally only saw Eraser when their hero work overlapped, and they rarely looked decent in the middle of missions, but he still looked especially rough. The bags under his eyes were deeper than normal, heavy purple bruises that made him look almost gaunt. Touya was pretty sure if he put a comb in his hair he'd break the teeth on knots and tangles.

“Is one of your husbands gonna come by to help you?” he asked. He could just leave, turn out of the kitchen and out of the dorms and not spare them another thought, but he lingered.

It was cold outside, gray clouds and biting wind rustling the trees. Cold weather was hardly an excuse for a fire user, though, and Eraser would know that.

Eraser shook his head. “They have enough to do. I can handle my class easily enough.” He tapped his phone a couple times. “Though, speaking of my husbands, Hizashi had a question for you. He’s in the teacher’s lounge. Main building, second floor.”

Touya could recognize a dismissal when he heard one. “Don’t hesitate to drop me a line,” he said, mouth turning to a crooked grin. “You’ve got the future of hero society in here, after all, and I’m always happy to help.”

Eraser rolled his eyes and waved him away.

Every bright light stabbed through their eyes straight to their brain, needles pricking behind their temples. Despite the curtains blocking the sun, the low lights of the room made Hitoshi’s migraine amp up. Nausea rolled in their stomach, head spinning on their pillow.

The silence was odd, though not unwelcome. Their friends had made reasons to leave when their headache started to get worse, promising to come back when they felt better. When they could tolerate any stimuli without gritting their teeth and didn’t look like they were a minute away from breaking down.

They didn’t feel very bad about it. Kyouka had been wincing, too, her ears as hyper-sensitive as their eyes. Momo and Denki had gone to one of their rooms, expressing a want for fresh clothes and showers, and left Hitoshi in a dark, quiet room with Gremlin for company. The cat purred against their chest, her head nuzzled into their sweatshirt.

Apparently, a couple days cuddling a human battery was all she needed to convince her that cuddles were a good thing.

“Think you can get Dad for me?” they whispered to her. She mewed, flexing her paws and snuggling deeper into them, her tail flicking happily. They breathed out a sigh. “Guess not.”

Wincing, they pulled the blanket over their head, curling into a tight ball on their bed. Sleep was evasive at the best of times, but this was just painful. Bone-deep exhaustion, no energy but to move the smallest amounts, and still sleep danced just out of reach. Their dizziness picked up when they tried to move, leaving them to shove their head against the pillow. Could they meld with the pillow? Would that get rid of their insomnia, if they became part of the bed?

The childish wish for at least one of their parents didn’t go away. Dad couldn’t erase their headache, but he never minded sitting with them when they had a migraine. He got them himself, sometimes, when he overused Erasure. He knew how to make them… not manageable, not bearable, they still sucked – more tolerable, maybe? Was that the word they wanted?

They didn’t know. Proper thoughts and ideas danced out of reach like sleep. If they could just sleep. Dad had a weird way of helping them sleep just by being present.

Mom had said it had to do with comfort and safety, once.

Dad had nineteen other sick teenagers to worry about and check on, though. He made rounds every few hours to give them food and tea and medicine, always leaving Hitoshi for last so he could give them a few minutes of his full attention.

When had his last check been? Hitoshi had slept through it, dimly aware of soup being left on their desk and a hand running through their hair.

Soup. It was definitely cold by now. The scent of it lingered, making their stomach turn.

Maybe they could ask Aunt Nemuri to knock them out? All they needed to do was text her and she’d make her way to the dorms. Her Quirk was good for a few short hours of dreamless sleep.

Texting, though. Bright light and writing and thinking.

Better to just sink into the dark of their blankets and wait for sleep. Phones were the enemy of migraines. Quirks and heroism be damned, the biggest villain in Hitoshi's life were phones with their bright lights and sharp sounds.

“Hitoshi?” Dad’s voice was quiet, his hands careful when he moved their blanket. “How are you feeling?”

They whined, flinching at the light. Dad pressed the back of his hand to their forehead, frowning.

“Not a fever,” he muttered.

“Migraine,” Hitoshi choked out. It was so bright. There was an icepick behind their eyes that made everything feel sharp. It drove deeper the longer the light was on.

Gremlin wiggled against them. They let their grip go slack so she could get out of the blanket and hop onto Dad’s shoulder. He scratched her quickly before setting her back on the bed.

Quietly, he left, the door clicking softly behind him. Another round done, then. He’d be back in a few hours. They pulled the blanket back into place, feeling Gremlin settle at the foot of the bed.

The door opened again. Dad sat beside them, moving the blanket once more.

“Medicine,” he said, nudging them to sit up. He held a sports drink and a few painkillers that Hitoshi took without complaint. “Light sensitivity?”

“And noise,” Hitoshi mumbled, leaning against him with eyes shut tight. “Nauseous.” The hand in their hair started scratching at their scalp. They pushed into the contact, head still floating uncomfortably.

“I’ll ask Lunch Rush if they can make some light broth,” Dad murmured. “Have you been sleeping?”

They sank deeper against him with a shake of their head. The room would spin if they opened their eyes, but their dad would remain a solid presence, immovable and unflappable.

His words turned to sounds in Hitoshi’s ears. Maybe he was telling them to rest. He usually told them to sleep when they had a migraine. There was no humming like with Mom or tight hugs like with Pops; just a steady hold around their shoulders and quiet, even breaths lulling them to a peaceful sleep.

The nest of blankets she’d built with Eijirou was comfortable, way more comfortable than her own bed, but Mina just couldn’t get warm, despite all the blankets. She shivered, shifting closer to Eijirou. He was asleep, not rousing when she moved.

The door opened, but instead of Mr. Aizawa, it was Katsuki.

“Did you get lonely?” she asked. “Decide you miss us, King?”

“Budge up,” he grunted, ignoring her questions.

She budged anyway, letting him sandwich her between him and Eijirou.

Warm. He was warm, warmer than Eijirou and the blanket nest, and didn’t protest her leaning against him.

“I just have a small fever,” he said. “Got bored. How long has he been sleeping?”

Mina shrugged, twisting to look at him. “A while,” she said. “Everything’s gone quiet. Not much to do but sleep.”

It had been more bearable when everyone was awake and hanging out on the group chat. Being able to be social in their pseudo-quarantines made it feel less isolating. Now it was just quiet, everyone sleeping off their illnesses.

“Might as well stay here, then,” Katuski said.

Mina would sleep too if she could just get warm. She nestled closer to Katsuki, feeling his arm go around her shoulders. When she looked at him, his head was tilted back, eyes shut. He’d probably have no trouble falling asleep.

She tugged a blanket over top of them, trapping some of Katsuki’s warmth against them. His breath was warm against her ear. Eijirou shifted on her other side, snoring softly into her shoulder.

There were worse ways to spend a sick day than cuddling with her boys.

In the purple lights of Fumikage’s room, Mezou listened as his friend slept. Birds didn’t snore, nor did Fumikage make chirping sounds like he had expected, but he could hear the rough quality of his breaths. A bag of cough drops sat half-empty nearby with a menthol rub Sero had recommended.

He was upright against Mezou’s chest, arms crossed in his sleep and his head against Mezou’s collarbone. He took the opportunity to stroke the feathers near the nape of his neck, soft and downy. No one would be able to see him through Mezou’s arms, the only hint of his presence being Dark Shadow curled around them.

Dark Shadow tilted their head at him, chirring when he grew another hand to pat their head.

“They are fond of you.” Mezou jumped at the quiet statement. Fumikage had a slight glimmer in his eye, like he was amused.

“They’re more active than I expected,” Mezou said. “I assumed they would be dormant if you were sick.”

“At times they are. Other times they’re… restless.” Dark Shadow tucked themself into the hug with Fumikage. He scratched under their beak as they shrank in size. “They are comfortable around you, so they’re more relaxed.”

He smiled behind his mask. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Dark Shadow chirped. Fumikage twitched, putting a hand on their beak. They nipped at him and sank back into his torso, leaving the pair of them alone in the dark.

“They aren’t wrong,” Fumikage murmured after a few minutes. “There are few people Dark Shadow is as fond of as you. It is not an easy feat to win their favor.”

Mezou raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re friendly with the rest of the class.”

“Friendly, yes. Fond, favorable, that is reserved for few people, though. They are particular about their interests.”

Mezou wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d seen Dark Shadow play with Hagakure, lift Sero and Kirishima high in the air, fiddle with Mr. Aizawa’s scarf, scratch at Midoriya’s notebooks; they were curious and reliable, an honorary classmate of sorts. They were easygoing, if a bit stubborn around forgiveness. It had taken a few days, but they'd forgiven Kuroiro for whatever slight had made them try to fight him on sight after a training session.

Fumikage had never explained what they were, exactly, referring to them as a sentient familiar of sorts. Mezou wondered, sometimes, but resolved not to ask. If Fumikage wanted to share, he would.

In the quiet of his room, all Shouto could hear was his heartbeat and Izuku’s breathing. Touya had left once his fever started to level out; frost and ice didn’t fill the air around them anymore, so his brother didn’t have an excuse to stay. Bakugou’s fever had dipped down, too, so he’d left with the sheets that held some of his sweat.

Now it was just him and Izuku, curled up on the futon with their backs to the wall. It was the most comfortable position to accommodate Izuku’s muscle aches and Shouto’s congested sinuses, though he’d made a new discovery about his friend.

Izuku snored. Not loud, roaring snores like Dad’s; they were quiet, small noises, barely audible. Just the smallest hitch in his breathing on every exhale.

It was cute. Combined with the kitten-like sneezes he’d heard earlier, he was tempted to call him adorable. Adorable didn’t entirely match Izuku, though. Not with the bulk of his muscles. Or the scars on his arms.

They were pale in the dim light of dusk through the window, thin lines scattered from his fingers to the compression sleeve on his shoulder. As rough as they looked, he wore them well.

Better than Shouto wore his own, anyway. Izuku’s were subtle, blending with the rest of his skin on first glance. He hid them with long sleeves, gloves in his hero costume, but didn’t mind them being in plain sight. He’d told Shouto he saw them as a sign of progress more than anything.

Shouto couldn’t hide his scar. Couldn’t credit it to progress or anything positive; it was just a remnant of a bad accident marring a quarter of his face. He could forget it was there sometimes, but in the cold, when it stretched and tightened?

He knew it was all people saw when they looked at him. Their eyes would drift to his left side without fail, though they never asked outright how it happened.

Izuku shivered and curled closer to him without waking up. Shouto frowned and tugged the blanket tighter around them, making sure it was on. The room had cooled off once Touya left but Shouto still couldn’t generate heat on his own. The blankets and shared warmth would have to do for now.

Despite 1-A quarantining for most of their illness, the flu had managed to spread through the rest of campus by the end of Friday. From what Shouta had heard, Honenuki had warped the 1-B common room by accident and Komori had generated mushrooms like Todoroki shed frost. How Bondo’s Quirk would be affected was a mystery he was glad to leave to Sekijirou. Acid and nitroglycerin were more than enough for him to worry about; glue sounded like a nightmare of its own.

Maybe he should make a note for Cementoss about replacing the carpets with hardwood when it came time for dorm repairs between years. Vacuuming the entire building was a noisy affair. Sweeping would be easier. They could make the floors soft with rugs if they needed to.

By Sunday, most of his students were starting to feel better. Shouta watched them trickle out of their rooms in slow succession, laden with bags of used tissues and cough drop wrappers to throw in the dumpster and hampers of clothes to wash. They bounced back quickly, a few of them asking about the classes they’d missed and the homework they hadn’t finished, others expressing worry about falling behind in their practical lessons.

Shouta hadn’t been a teenager in a long time, but he was pretty sure his priorities had been different when he got sick as a student.

Once Recovery Girl cleared the last student, Yagi dropped by to all but shove Shouta out of the dorms and toward a waiting Hizashi.

“I can watch them for the night,” he said. “Go home, Aizawa. Rest in your own bed for once.”

A small part of him wanted to argue, but the idea of his own bed was a nice one. A full week in the dorms was more time than he’d expected to spend around his students, in truth.

Still, Hitoshi had been wincing at the lights like their migraine hadn’t fully gone away. He didn’t want them to have to deal with that on their own. “Hitoshi –”

“Already told me they wanted to stay in the dorms because they have class in the morning,” Hizashi said. He put his arm around Shouta’s shoulders. “Come on, Eri’s missed you.”

The last shred of his resolve snapped. Shouta nodded silently, leaning into Hizashi’s side. Nightly phone calls and video chats weren’t the same as actually being with his daughter. For all he knew she was safe with Oboro and Hizashi, he still worried.

Hizashi talked as they walked, telling him about the radio station. He recognized most of the names and was content to listen to the simple updates on the staff that had been around for years. His interest increased when Hizashi went into how the announcement of the Interview Hour segment restarting in a few weeks had already bumped their ratings, and they were expecting more live listeners once it started.

“A bunch of agencies and heroes have been calling the station to try and get in on it!” Hizashi said as he opened the door to their house. “The schedule we’ve been working on will have me shuffling patrols onto some of the sidekicks, but they should get a chance to shine, y’know? Easier routes, so they shouldn’t have to handle too many crises on their own, but it’ll get them used to running point.”

“That makes sense. Let them stand on their own two feet before they fully go independent,” he said.

The house was quiet. Shouta could see Oboro and Eri sitting in the armchair from the entryway. She was sat in his lap, reading one of her little kid books out loud to him, unaware of their arrival. Oboro nodded at them but didn’t pull her attention away, letting her stay absorbed in her book.

He was able to get his boots and scarf off before she noticed him. In a flash, he had a small child attached to his side, squeezing as best she could in a hug.

“Hey,” he whispered. He squatted down to hug her, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Let me change real fast and we can have a proper hug, all right?”

She nodded against him, shifting her gaze to Hizashi while he went straight for the bedroom. He ignored his own closet, stealing one of Hizashi’s sweatshirts and a pair of Oboro’s sweats. Their clothes were soft, well-worn from countless washes and him and Hitoshi nicking them at any chance. He breathed in, taking in the familiar scent of the bedroom and listening to the sounds of the house.

It was quiet in a different way from the dorms. The dorms were stale silence, waiting with bated breath for the students to populate the common areas and bring life to the building. There was no noise but what people brought with them, the walls insulated so the rooms were damn near soundproof. Once a door was shut only the loudest sounds could leak through the cracks. It was eerie, unsettling, having that much quiet on a campus that was otherwise bustling with activity.

The house hummed, never fully quiet. The air conditioning whirred as it kept the temperature right where Oboro’s joints wouldn’t stiffen and Hitoshi wouldn’t get cranky, the water heater clicked, the floorboards settled, the windows creaked. Cats wove their way through the house, knocking things over to get attention and yowling when they startled themselves. Hizashi would play the radio in the kitchen and Oboro would watch the news with the volume set low, making ambient noise that filled the air without being oppressive.

The relative quiet of his house was immeasurably better than the silence of the dorms.

This time, he caught Eri when she approached him, lifting her in his arms to hold her. She tucked her face into his neck, small arms taking the place of his scarf so she could get as close as possible.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he whispered.

“S’okay,” she mumbled. “Mom said your students were sick and you had to take care of them.”

“They were. I did. I’m still sorry. I should have balanced better so I could be with you, too.”

She sniffled and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. She wasn’t to tears, not yet, but she wasn’t an easy crier. When she did, she was quiet, muffling herself so no one could hear her.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Wet tears spilled down his neck. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest when she started to sniffle, running a hand though her hair. “I missed you, too,” he said.

He kept a steady hold on her as he sat on the couch, shooting a quick glance to Oboro, who was still in his armchair. Heated blanket stretched over his legs, bottle of water beside him, a bookmark in his novel, and Eri’s book now set on the side table with it. Looking at his face, he could see that there was a dull quality in his eyes. A bad day.

His gaze shifted when he caught Shouta’s eye, the dullness fading slightly when he shook his head.

One thing at a time. He had seen Oboro on campus in the past week. He’d only seen Eri through his phone screen and heard her through the speaker, voice warped by tinny speakers and face coming in and out of focus among the pixels.

She made herself comfortable on top of him, tears and sniffles fading while he rubbed her back and murmured soft placations. Try as he might to stay awake, once she started to drift into a nap, he had trouble not following after her.

He needed to ask Oboro and Hizashi about making sure she felt secure. Oboro’s comment about her fearing rocking the boat clung to his mind. They’d known she wouldn’t be easy to raise, but the last thing Shouta wanted was for her to live in constant fear. She’d had enough of that with Overhaul.

He shifted slightly, trying to stay awake. He couldn’t sleep, not yet. He had to check on Oboro and talk to Hizashi. He had to text Hitoshi to ask about what Kaminari had said that had them so worried. He had to review the lesson plans Yagi had given him. He had to read Nedzu’s proposal for the final exams for the first years and refine them with Sekijirou.

He shut his eyes, sliding down to lay on the couch as he made his mental list of tasks. Outside the school, he still had to talk to his agency about the patrols he’d missed and the active cases he had open. At least one of them involved Nova, who’d sent him a cryptic text about one of their informants, and that needed to take precedent.

Someone brushed the bangs from his forehead, tapping away the dark weight of sleep that was still trying to creep in. He opened his eyes to see Hizashi – with his hair down and free of product, his normal glasses on his nose – looking at him with a soft fondness. Shouta hummed when Hizashi kissed his nose, releasing the furrow between his brows he hadn’t realized was there.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Hizashi said. “It’s giving me a headache.”

“That’s not possible,” Shouta replied. He reached up and caught the hand that was combing through his hair, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Tell me more about the station. You said heroes were reaching out to get in with the interviews, I want to know who.”

Hizashi grinned and tapped his shoulder, flapping his hand until he slid over to let him sit by the arm of the couch. Shouta obliged and took the opportunity to put his head in his lap. Eri didn’t wake or move at all, fast asleep on his chest. He felt Hizashi’s hands go back to playing with his hair. A sigh escaped him as he relaxed into his touch.

It was soothing, the feeling of deft fingers comb his hair. Hizashi braided it as he talked, naming heroes Shouta didn’t recognize and ones he hadn’t expected to show any interest in interviews. It was far more than Shouta expected – enough that Hizashi could create a stockpile for a year and then some if he talked to all of them.

Maybe expecting less was his mistake. Hizashi knew a lot of heroes in Japan through the station and was highly regarded by almost all of them. Even Endeavor, who refused to do interviews if he could help it, had done a few with him before they’d tabled the segment. Something about the way he could guide conversations, keep things engaging while recognizing where he needed to back off or where he could press forward, drew people in even when he wasn’t formally interviewing them.

Shouta refused to do interviews on principle. The press conference had been his first media appearance since he was a student; the only time he showed up where he could be spectated was the sports festival, where he could let Hizashi take point and follow his lead. Underground work relied on his ability to be relatively unrecognizable. That was his usual excuse, anyway. He really just hated talking to reporters.

Fuck, his students still needed a media crash course. Media literacy was usually left for the second term of second year, after they’d gotten their provisional licenses. Between them getting their licenses early and doing work studies, he hadn’t been able to rework the curriculum.

Fingers drummed on his forehead until he opened his eyes to see Hizashi’s frown.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked. “I thought I was actually getting you to fall asleep for a second there.”

Shouta sighed, leaning into the hand tracing his jawline. “My students need a media crash course. I forgot until now.”

Hizashi clicked his tongue. He looked thoughtful, green eyes fixing on something just past Shouta as he thought. He hummed a song Shouta didn’t recognize, fingers tapping a steady rhythm on his hairline.

“I can help with interview prep,” he said. “They’ll need someone else to help with social media. The raid kids have verified accounts that they’re scared to touch, but I let the agency run my public accounts, so I can’t help them.”

“Nemuri?” Not many of the teachers used their official accounts. Nemuri was the most visible UA teacher before Yagi had started teaching, and Yagi didn’t even use social media. Might Tower had a dedicated publicity team that still handled everything for him.

“I was thinking Nova.” Hizashi smiled when Shouta looked surprised. “I talked to him before he left a few days ago. Apparently, he and Midoriya got to talking about Babbler. They found another security gap in UA’s perimeter by digging into some smaller tabloid accounts and at least one dummy account trying to target some Support kids for intel.”

Shouta groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get Ectoplasm a bottle of vodka, got it,” he muttered, voice strained.

Hizashi laughed. It was hard not to let his shoulders drop and sink his weight into the couch hearing him laugh. Loud and boisterous, it fit him perfectly.

Gods, he’d missed that laugh the past week.

He felt Eri wiggle until she was sandwiched between him and the back of the couch. Free from the fear of disturbing the child on his chest, he turned onto his side and shoved his nose in Hizashi’s sweater, keeping one arm wrapped around Eri. It wasn't the nap arrangement he'd expected but it was one he would gladly accept.

“We can make a lesson plan in the morning,” he said. His voice wouldn’t rise above a mumble, the words catching in his throat.

“Get ‘Boro’s opinion, too,” Hizashi said, still carding his fingers through Shouta’s hair. “He understands media almost as well as I do.”

Shouta could hear Oboro’s snores from the chair. He sighed, feeling his hips and lower back click as he settled into the couch. Hazy darkness set itself on him quickly, his limbs feeling heavier as he tried to talk.

Sleep really did sound good.

“Remind me…”

He trailed off, thoughts slipping out of reach. Whatever Hizashi said in reply was lost. His words melded with Oboro’s snores, the sounds turning into background noise. All he could feel for certain were Hizashi’s hands in his hair and Eri’s small form tucked safely against his chest.

His worries could wait another day.