Work Text:
Recovery Girl had been exceedingly patient with Neito. Everyone had. And it wasn’t that Neito didn’t want their patience, he just didn’t want their pity. He didn’t need it. He had come out of the whole thing–the whole war –relatively unscathed. A broken arm, a broken nose, some bruising here and there. Nothing compared to Mr. Aizawa. Or Midoriya. Or Bakugou.
Bakugou. Bakugou. Bakugou.
The face that haunts Neito’s nightmares. The reason Neito can’t stay away from the hospital. He had tried and failed, miserably failed, to protect Bakugou with his quirk.
And Neito loved his quirk. It had allowed him to be anything he needed to be in order to protect those he cared about. It allowed him to be anything he needed to be in order to win.
But then when it mattered most, he had failed, he had lost.
Neito wanders around the unit like he’s sleepwalking, head slowly turning as he scans the rooms for Recovery Girl. When he finally finds her, Neito waits outside the room. As she exits the room, she greets him with a sad, knowing smile.
“May I?” Neito asks and Recovery Girl nods, holding her hand out palm up. He places his own hand on top of hers and feels his body take on the burden of a new quirk.
“Thank you,” he says with a slight bow and the click of the timer on his belt.
“Just take care of yourself, young Monoma,” she says and reaches up to touch his chest over his heart. “I’m not able to fix these kinds of wounds.”
Bakugou is still in a coma, but Neito knocks on his room door anyway before walking in. The window sill is adorned with beautiful flowers and balloons and cards. It always makes Neito sad that Bakugou can’t see any of it–all of the kindness and love that people have showered him with–so, as usual, Neito describes the assortment of gifts, the types of flowers there are, what any of the new cards say. He hopes Bakugou can hear him in these moments so that he knows how much people miss him.
Neito has never brought Bakugou a card or flowers or balloon. He doesn’t think Bakugou would want those things from him. Neito needs Bakugou to wake up for a completely different, completely selfish reason. He needs to right a wrong. He needs to know he wasn’t the end of Dynamight.
Neito pulls a chair up next to the bedside and sits. A year ago he would have gotten a level of amusement at how calm Bakugou is when he sleeps. He looks like a completely different person. But now, that fact just tightens Neito’s chest and burns the corners of his eyes with hot tears.
He picks up Bakugou’s hand in front of him, finds an area not covered by bandages, and leans down to kiss it, soft lips against scarred skin. He blushes as he sets the hand down and instinctively looks around to see if anyone saw–despite the staff being aware of Neito’s visits and Recovery Girl’s authorization to use her quirk on Bakugou, Neito still feels like he’s not supposed to be here.
The timer on his belt dings and the last of Recovery Girl’s quirk fades from his supply. As much as he hates the mode of transmission for her recovery quirk, Neito would kiss every exposed area on Bakugou’s body if it meant he would wake up.
Luckily, Recovery Girl had informed Neito before the first use that Bakugou would really only benefit from one kiss every couple days. Neito is more than grateful for that.
But he keeps his hand over Bakugou’s for a few minutes, feeling the warmth against his palm as a sign of life, a quiet sign of hope. The hand twitches underneath him and Neito wouldn’t have thought much of it if it wasn’t followed by a weak groan.
“Bakugou?” Neito asks hesitantly.
“Fu-u-ckkk.” It’s mostly a pained groan pulled straight from Bakugou’s chest, but Neito can hear the curse under it all. He watches in disbelief as Bakugou scrunches his face and squeezes his eyes.
Neito’s mouth is dry and his heart is in his throat. He quickly pulls his hand away from Bakugou’s, praying that he is too busy being pulled into consciousness to notice the whole hand-holding thing.
“Fuck, uh, Nurse!” Neito shouts into the hall and then rushes to press the call button next to Bakugou’s hospital bed. The front desk girl answers the call and Neito fumbles to get words out, “He’s awake, he’s awake.”
It’s all Neito can say and think. He’s awake .
The nurses rush in and Recovery Girl eventually joins them, giving Neito a sly wink as she slips through the door. Neito blushes and tries to make himself small, sitting on the window sill among the rainbow of flowers and balloons, as the care team scrambles to check on Bakugou as he wakes up.
Neito wants to leave–it’s not his moment, he’s not the one who should be here–but the door is blocked and he doesn’t want to get in the way. Surely, the nurse has called Bakugou’s family and they are on their way. The thought of seeing the Bakugous reunited with their conscious son makes Neito’s chest swell with joy and relief.
There is a brief moment, after the care team has ensured Bakugou is stabilized, that Neito thinks he can make his escape. But Bakugou turns, alert vermillion eyes stopping Neito in his tracks.
“You,” Bakugou says, voice still raspy from when he was originally intubated. Neito’s stomach drops. Bakugou is probably wondering why he, out of everyone, is there.
“I’m, uh, just leaving, sorry.”
“You did this.” Neito winces. Bakugou’s voice sounds painful. “Hey, loser, nunnathat. I’m the one in the hospital bed.”
“Your family should be here soon. I had just stopped by briefly.” Neito breathes slowly. It’s an acceptable excuse. Should get him out.
“What? You payin’ your respects or somethin’? I ain’t even dead yet.”
“No! I-”
“I'm just messing with you, Monoma,” Bakugou says as he tries and fails to readjust himself in the bed, grimacing with each labored movement. “Can I get a little help or are you just gonna stare?”
“Oh, right.”
Neito rushes over to the bedside and slips a hand under Bakugou’s armpit, pulling him up into a better sitting position. Bakugou grumbles a few curses and Neito isn’t sure if it’s from the pain or the unexpected difficulty of the task.
“I could hear you, you know, each time,'' Bakugou says, not looking at Neito and quiet enough that Neito has to tilt his head down to hear.
“What?” Neito asks, before a wave of realization washes over him.
“Your visits. Obviously I couldn’t wake up or speak, but I was, uh, you know, aware of it–of you.”
Bakugou finally looks up and Neito can feel the way his cheeks and ears and neck grow hot. He knows the blush across his skin must match the shade of red in Bakugou’s eyes.
“I was just trying to help, I’m sorry…. I know I should have minded my own business….I just-”
“Oi!” Bakugou reaches out and grabs the ends of Neito’s fingers. His grip is weak, but Neito doesn’t dare pull his hand away. “You’ve been trying to heal me.”
“Trying,” Neito repeats. The same way I tried to protect you.
“M’all healed.” Bakugou cracks a smile and Neito’s insides flutter to life. He almost doesn’t realize that Bakugou is still holding onto his hand.
“Is that so?” Neito raises his eyebrows and attempts to stifle a laugh. “If you think that, then you might have hit your head a little too hard. Next time I’ll kiss that part of you.”
The words come out too fast and Neito doesn’t process his own voice saying them until it’s too late and he panics when Bakugou drops his hand. He holds it up in front of his face as if he’s thoroughly examining it.
“Yeah, I think my hand is definitely healed enough.”
Fuck. So fucking embarrassing. Neito blushes again, the uncomfortable warmth spreading quickly across his face. Bakugou catches it immediately and grins.
“Hey, hey, Monoma,” Bakugou says, waving his hand to get Neito’s attention. And when Neito finally risks the humiliation of meeting Bakugou’s gaze, he is rewarded in spades. Bakugou smiles–as much as he can around the bandages–and the way the light reflects off his eyes reminds Neito of a sunrise. “Seriously, thank you.”
And it’s so sincere. So gentle. So not what he ever expected.
“Yeah. Of course.” Neito fumbles with the hem of his shirt, trying not to be disappointed at the lack of excuse to come visit Bakugou anymore. “I know you obviously don’t need me to come by anymore, but, uh, I can bring you coffee or something if you ever want.”
It feels like a leap. But he’s already embarrassed himself enough today and Bakugou is here. Here and awake . The leap is worth it.
Bakugou pulls Neito’s fingers away from where they nervously pull at his shirt. “Yeah. I think I will need a coffee– or something –tomorrow around this same time, eh?”
“Right,” Neito says, not even trying to suppress his smile anymore. “Um, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“See ya then, Recovery Boy” Bakugou says with a weak wave and Neito basically backs out of the room, not wanting to look away from the now conscious, the now safe , Bakugou.