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His stomach was on fire, and his throat was burning as it was washed with stomach acid repeatedly.
“Fuck my life,” Izuku groaned, resting his forehead on the edge of the toilet seat.
“Get your face off of there, that’s fucking disgusting,” Katsuki said. Katsuki handed him a cup of water that he eagerly accepted, drinking it so fast he was almost chugging it.
“Slow down, dumbass, you’ll make yourself puke again.”
“I don’t care, my mouth tastes like shit,” Izuku whined. He sighed, massaging his temples as he tried to orient himself better. He felt fine about twenty minutes ago, but then he’d been hit with a wave of nausea that had him sprinting to the bathroom and shoving his head in the toilet bowl. Katsuki had followed him quickly, probably surprised by the urgency and the gagging noises coming from his throat.
“Did you catch something at work?” Katsuki asked. Izuku just shrugged, trying to get the dizziness to reside.
“Well, don’t infect me with a stomach bug,” Katsuki said. “I fucking hate being sick.” Oh, Izuku knew that very well. Every time Katsuki was sick, he got ten times snappier and five times more exhausted, meaning he would yell at Izuku while lying half awake in bed, demanding juice or whatever else he required. To keep it short, he was even more of a menace.
“You’re the one that followed me into the bathroom,” Izuku pointed out.
“You looked like you were going to keel over and die.”
“That’s because I was.”
“You seem pretty alright to me.” The next wave of nausea hit at perfect timing, and Izuku wretched and vomited the rest of his dinner into the toilet. Katsuki gave him a disgusted look, but filled up his water cup without being asked.
“Yeah, I feel great,” Izuku groaned, spitting out any residue that was left in his mouth. His meal tasted way worse coming up than it did going down. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, waiting for the wooziness to fade away. The sickness had appeared out of nowhere, about an hour after they finished eating dinner. They’d made sushi in their apartment because Izuku saw a fun recipe one day and was dying to try it (or dying for Katsuki to make it for him, anyway). They’d had a blast making it (he had a blast watching Katsuki make it), and tasted amazing. But now he was flushing it down the toilet with deep regret.
He heard Katsuki’s breath hitch.
“Oh my god, move the fuck over, oh my god, get out of the way,” Katsuki said, practically shoving Izuku into the bathtub and taking his spot in front of the toilet. Then the rest of the sushi Katsuki had worked so hard on was also wasted. Izuku watched as Katsuki’s eyes screwed shut, and he turned away from the toilet before opening them again. Izuku leaned over to flush it down. Katsuki hates throw up, and he refuses to clean it up, even when Kazu pukes on the floor.
“You got me sick, you dumb bitch,” Katsuki muttered, banging his head lightly against the wall. Izuku reached over to pat his back once, twice, in sympathy.
“Sorry,” he apologized, but not very sincerely. Izuku had a hunch as to why they were both sick, but it would be an insult to Katsuki’s cooking to say it out loud. He handed him the half-empty cup of water he was still holding.
“My head is pounding,” Katsuki complained. He’d only been sick, for what, two minutes? And the whining had already started.
“Me too,” Izuku said, not moving from where he was lying half on the floor and half in the tub.
“I need ibuprofen.”
“Me too.”
“Do you want to go grab it?”
“No.” They continued to sit there, neither wanting to get up.
“Pass me that towel,” Izuku said, gesturing to the one sitting on the counter of the sink. Katsuki handed it to him reluctantly. Izuku folded up the towel and put it on the ground, laying his head down on it and making himself comfortable.
“Move over,” Katsuki huffed. He squished Izuku even farther against the wall of the tub and took over the other side of the towel pillow. Their ears were basically touching, and they both just stared blankly at the ceiling.
“I wanna go to bed,” Izuku said, but still didn’t show any signs of moving.
“Yeah.”
“Should we go to bed?”
“Probably.” But neither of them moved.
“Have our towels always been this soft?” Izuku asked.
“Yes, I bought them for a reason.”
“Well, good choice.” Izuku shifted so that he was laying on his side, facing Katsuki. Katsuki followed suit.
“I think the sushi got us sick,” Izuku said.
“Are you insulting my cooking?”
“One hundred percent.”
“If you made the sushi, we would be dead right now.”
“I would be offended, but you’re right,” Izuku said, grinning. Katsuki closed his eyes, and it made Izuku realize how exhausted they both were. He also realized how long Katsuki’s eyelashes were, and how soft his hair looked, and how smooth his skin was. Then he realized how close they were, how he could practically feel Katsuki breathing on him, and how they were just centimeters away-
“You’re breath smells,” Izuku said, instead of all the things he actually wanted to say.
“I wonder if I just puked,” Katsuki said, reopening his eyes to give Izuku a look that said, are you for real?
“I was just stating an observation,” he replied.
“I can pretty much feel you staring at me.”
“Yeah, well…” Izuku trailed off, unable to come up with an excuse. “You’re kind of right in my face.”
“Do you want me to move?”
“Nah.” They stayed.
It was probably ten minutes before they came to the decision that the pain was too bad to continue laying on the floor. They dragged themselves to the kitchen, and Izuku’s back was aching like it had never ached before. They made tea, took pain meds, and finally collapsed on the couch.
“I should have just laid down in bed,” Izuku whined. “Now I don’t wanna get up.”
“Boo hoo,” Katsuki muttered, eyes already drifting shut. They were both fully extended on the couch, heads at opposite ends with the rest of their bodies struggling to squeeze into the rest of the couch. They were practically on top of each other, but neither could really stand the pain of sitting up.
“I’m never eating sushi again,” Izuku sighed. When he got no response, he opened his eyes, peeking at Katsuki. His lips were parted open and Izuku could hear him snoring lightly. He laughed to himself and pulled out his phone, recording him for a couple seconds.
Potential blackmail, obviously. It definitely wasn’t cute.