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“Babe,” Katsuki wipes the sweat off Shouto’s forehead and swipes the mixed strands of red and white from where they’ve stuck themselves to his temple. “You need to drink.”
Most days, Katsuki prides himself on his *usually* stoic behavior. Don’t get him wrong. But right now, with a very very sickly red and white haired boy curled into a painful ball under his duvet, he lets his softness seep through the cracks Shouto has meticulously carved into him throughout the years they’ve known eachother.
Everyone at U.A knows Todoroki isn’t one to get sick. With the ability to thermoregulate himself, the nasty winter flu usually passes over him like a dark rain cloud about to storm (and always ends up down pouring on Midoriya). Yet somehow, this winter, Shouto was the only one out of all of their class to get sick. Maybe Katsuki should’ve tried harder to get Shouto to wear his gloves when he went sledding with stupid Deku last week.
Katsuki doesn’t even think his boyfriend realized he was sick until it hit him like a truck this morning. He woke up to a light layer of frost coating the arm he threw around Shouto’s waist sometime in the night and kicked the comforter off his sweaty legs, tangled with Shouto’s.
His flailing woke the other boy up, who immediately groaned in pain as a shiver shook his body, every breath he took clogged by phlegm. Shouto tried to deny it at first, but Bakugou knows better. Knows him.
“Shou,” he tried again with the water. “Drink.”
Shouto huffs, which turns into a groan as he sits up, Katsuki’s calloused hand rubbing rough circles onto his bare back. “I’m fine.”
The blonde rolls his eyes.
“Water. Now.”
He hands the cup off to a shaky Shouto who takes a few reluctant sips. “You’re not going to classes today.”
That wakes Shouto up a little. Katsuki knew it would, prepared for whatever argument he was about to face. He knows it’s not Shouto’s fault. His father had trained Shouto to power through any sickly inconvenience, no matter the size, and any time he couldn’t, he’d face punishment. Katsuki makes a silent vow to make sure his boyfriend never has to feel like he deserves punishment for being ill again.
“No. It’s fine. I’ll wear a mask.”
“I already told Aizawa. You’re not going.”
Shouto’s about to bite back some snarky remark but it falls short as he dissolves into a fit of coughs that make Katsuki flinch and scrunch his nose. “Fuck, Halfie. You got it bad.”
Shouto shoots him a glare but reaches out the hand not covering his coughs and grips Katsuki’s tightly. His other hand continues up and down Shouto’s back comfortingly until the coughing finally subsides.
“Water,” Shouto croaks out. Katsuki holds back a chuckle at his froggy voice and helps him tip the glass back, wiping a stray drop that falls onto Shouto’s chin when he pulls the drink away. He places his hand overtop Shouto’s forehead.
Fuck. How the hell are you supposed to tell if Halfie has a goddamn fever with his hot and cold shit.
He decides to just assume the worst and cracks some fever meds out of their plastic encasing, placing them next to the glass on his side table.
“I’m going to class. You’re staying here and sleeping.” It’s an order. He stands up and slings his backpack over one shoulder before pushing Shouto back down into bed. “Take the pills if you want.”
Shouto looks up at him from the bed, all flushed and soft and pink. It’d be cute, if not for the nasty sniffles he sucks up. Bakugou cringes.
“Don’t germ my bed up, got it?” He opens the door and takes one last look at his boyfriend.
Love you. Shouto mouths, and Bakugou pretends to gag but grins at him before stepping out into the hallway.
.
He doesn’t make it a full step into the classroom before a mop of green curls bounces over. “Kacchan!”
“Back off, nerd,” Bakugou shoves past his shoulder and heads back to his desk. Of course the annoying mop follows him anyways.
“Where’s Todoroki-kun? We were supposed to meet in the common room for breakfast but he never showed up. I texted him—but you know him he doesn’t really understand his phone—and I figured he’d probably be with you. Kacchan?“
Bakugou groans and throws his head down on his desk.
“He’s fucking sick, Deku,” he interrupts, shooting a glare towards Midoriya. “Got some nasty version of the flu. Now fuck off.”
This catches the rest of the class’s attention. Kirishima turns around in his chair and raises an eyebrow. Mina sleuths over from where she had been talking with Ochacko, who’s also sporting a surprised expression. Of course.
“Sick!? Todoroki is sick? Does Aizawa-Sensei know? I can go and check on him! Let me text—“ Midoriya is cutoff as a Bakugou’s jacket is whipped into his face.
“He’s fine. Don’t fucking bother him. He should be sleeping.” Turning to peer up at Midoriya, Bakugou grabs his jacket back from his hands. Strangely though, the nerd isn’t looking at him. His gaze shot straight past Bakugou and directly on the entrance to the classroom.
“Um, actually, Kacchan, he’s right there,” Midoriya raises his hand and points to the doorway. Bakugou flies around in his chair, and there, in all his sickly glory, stands Todoroki.
“You cannot be serious.”
His boyfriends attempting to pass into the classroom, but being held off by a very annoyed looking Aizawa. Their teacher mumbles something to Todoroki, who turns to face the class. Bakugou can see Midoriya cringe through his peripheral. It’s a justified reaction, seeing as Todoroki looks like absolute shit. He seems to have gotten significantly worse than when Bakugou left him cozy and tucked into his bed this morning.
Todoroki is leaning on the doorframe for support and has his mouth dropped open to be able to breath. His nose and eyes are almost the same color as the roses that Uraraka grows in the common room’s windowsill and he’s got a wad of tissues in one hand. He’s wearing Bakugou’s clothes, because of course he is; a large black sweatshirt and orange workout shorts. It’d be cute, if not for the fact that Todoroki was not supposed to be here right now. He knows it, too. When his eyes meet Bakugou’s, he lifts his shoulders up in a small shrug and points to a stack of papers on Aizawa’s desk.
Bakugou’s storming to the front of the classroom before anyone has a chance to react. “You fucking idiot! I should kill you right now.”
“Hello Katsuki,” Shouto says, as if he hadn’t blatantly disregarded everything he was told this morning. “I wanted to pick up my work for today. That’s all.”
“Todoroki, go back to your room. And please don’t come back out.” Aizawa pinches the bridge between his nose and lets out a dramatic sigh. “It’s always something with you two.”
“Actually, sensei, I was in Katsuki’s room.”
“Hah!?”
Bakugou’s palms tingle with the threat of explosion.
“I—Okay. I’ll ignore that. Todoroki, you go back to wherever you came from, and stay there,” Aizawa grabs a few papers from his desk and shoves them into Bakugou’s arms, quelling the need for the fire extinguisher. “You’re going with him, problem child. I’m giving you a free day. Make sure he doesn’t leave whatever room he’s been staying in. The last thing I need is a class wide pandemic.”
Bakugou’s mouth falls open, but Aizawa gives him a look that stops any retaliation before it can leave his mouth. Instead, he opts for a loud, exaggerated groan and stomps back to his desk to grab his things.
“Kacchan, if you don’t want to miss class, I can go with Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya offers, but Bakugou just glares at him, his answer clear. Midoriya shrugs and wishes Todoroki a swift recovery before and skipping over to Kirishima. Bakugou turns away before he becomes victim to their obnoxious flirting.
Shoving his notebook and boyfriend’s stupid homework in his backpack, he slings it over one shoulder.
“Good luck, Bakubro,” Mina giggles. Bakugou makes a point to ignore her.
“He’s not allowed back till he functions like a normal human,” Aizawa says.
“Whatever.” Grabbing Shouto, Bakugou doesn’t give him a chance to say goodbye before he’s pulling him out of the classroom and down the hall. “You’re so unbearable.”
“I felt useless laying there,” Shouto breaks out into a coughing fit and the boys have to stop while he catches his breath. “Doing nothing.”
Ugh. Leave it to Shouto to plant the seeds of guilt in Katsuki’s thorn garden.
“You’re not fucking useless, Shouto. You’re sick,” He brings his hand down to lace it with Shouto’s. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
.
Shouto’s out of breath by the time they make it back to Katsuki’s dorm. He collapses onto the bed in a heap of heavy breaths and sniffles. Katsuki can’t stop the strings in his heart from tugging. He shrugs his backpack off and slides onto the bed next to his boyfriend.
“You want water? Tea? I think I have some of the lavender shit you like leftover.”
Shouto shakes his head buried in the pillow. He twists an arm behind his back and lifts up his sweatshirt to expose his lower back. Katsuki knows what he wants.
“You’re lucky you’re sick.” He snarls, but his hands move the rest of the sweatshirt up and begin to push and massage at the knots in Shouto’s back. Almost immediately his boyfriend melts into a pile of goo on Katsuki’s bed, his breathing finally evening out. Katsuki can’t imagine how he made it to the classroom without passing out.
He presses on an especially tight muscle in Shouto’s back, earning him a low groan from the boy under him.
This would be pretty hot if he wasn’t a walking pathogen, Katsuki thinks. He’ll have to do this again when Shouto’s able to actually breathe correctly.
“This is awful. I can’t believe Midoriya deals with this every winter,” Shouto moans, turning his head to expose his face. Katsuki brushes a few stands of hair behind his ear and moves from massaging Shouto’s back to lightly scratching.
“The nerd deserves it,” Katsuki scoffs, “He used to get me sick constantly when we were younger.”
Shouto smiles and cracks an eye open to look at Katsuki. “That’s cute.”
“You’re delusional. The flu’s gone to your small brain.”
“Oh no, Doctor Katuski, please take care of me,” Shouto gives him one of those looks and it takes every ounce of self control for Katsuki to stop his dick from getting hard.
“You’re not scoring tonight, babe,” Katsuki removes his hands from Shouto’s back and pulls his sweatshirt down. He stands up and moves to shut the curtains and turn the overhead light off. His eyes flit over to the nightstand where he put the fever pills this morning. They’re both gone. Thank God.
“What’re you doing? Lay with me.” Turning onto his back, Shouto holds his arms out. “I missed you today.”
“It’s been an hour. And you see me every day Halfie.”
“I didn’t like not being with you today, Katsuki. I don’t feel good.”
“Well I’m here now. Close your eyes, baby. I’m gonna turn the side lamp off.”
“Will you lay with me?”
Katsuki doesn’t answer with words but instead climbs under the covers next to Shouto and pulls the sick boy onto his lap. With his back against the headboard, he runs his hands through Shouto’s hair and feels the boy throw a leg over his and wrap his arms around Katsuki’s waist, resting his head on his thighs.
“This is only because you’re sick. You hear me?” Katsuki grumbles, but there’s no harshness in his words. These days, there never are. Shouto hums at the empty threat.
The next few hours pass in a blur for Shouto. He’s in and out of sleep as he lounges on Katsuki’s lap; the latter scratching his dull nails on Shouto’s scalp absentmindedly while watching some explosion filled action movie on his laptop. Shouto nuzzles his nose into Katsuki’s stomach and breathes in his scent. It’s difficult, he can only barely breathe through one nostril, but it’s worth the struggle.
He’s got his face smushed into Katsuki’s belly when he realizes. “‘Suki.”
No answer. The explosions continue from the laptop.
“Katsuki.”
Katsuki hums and the hand in his hair tightens.
“You’re too close to me.”
“Hah?”
“You’re too close. What if I give you my cold?” Shouto turns to look up at him.
“Your flu. And I don’t get sick.”
He doesn’t look down at Shouto but a hand drops from his head to pat his cheek.
“Katsuki I’m serious.”
Groaning, the blonde shuts the laptop and tosses it off the bed onto his backpack. Shouto doesn’t have the effort to scold him for being reckless.
“Babe. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve got a top tier immune system.”
Shouto pouts and rolls off his lap. Katsuki raises an eyebrow.
“You don’t want me around or somethin’?”
“Katsuki! I do. I just don’t want you to get sick because of me.”
“So you think I’m weak?”
Shouto groans and tried not to cough into his pillow. Now seems like a good time for the silent treatment.
“Shouto.”
He doesn’t answer and wiggles away from Katsuki.
“Shou, I’m just messing.”
Silence.
“Baby,” Katsuki coos, sliding under the covers and turning to face Shouto’s back. A finger runs up his spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Shouto’s plan is failing. He turns to face his boyfriend.
“There he is,” tucking a strand of white hair behind Shouto’s ear, Katsuki grins at him. Stuffy, snotty, flushed, and sweaty, Shouto still manages to look beautiful. “I’m not leaving you no matter how many germs you infect me with.”
“Even if you get too sick to train?” Shouto smiles.
“Psh. I’d just kick your sorry ass twice as hard the next session.” Confident and cocky, Katsuki shows no sign of resentment to Shouto’s illness.
It’s foreign to Shouto—having someone take care of him. There’s still that whisper in his ear, telling him it’s his fault he’s weak, that a true Hero wouldn’t let himself get this pathetic. But it’s different this time around. He has someone. He has Katsuki, who stomps out any wicked thought with the press of his lips to Shouto’s temple and the path his hands follow through his hair like a routine.
Shouto knows he’s far from freeing himself of these thoughts for good, but knowing he’s not alone anymore is a start.
“Hey, hey,” Katsuki’s brows pinch and his previously comforting gaze floods with worry. “Why are you crying?”
Shouto hadn’t realized he’d started crying. Katsuki mentioning it draws him back to the present and he can feel the coolness of his tears trail down his cheeks. A calloused hand wipes them away.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Shou.”
“Nothing…I just,” Shouto giggles through the tears and brings his own hands up to cup Katsuki’s face. “I just love you a lot. I love how you take care of me.”
Rolling his eyes, Katsuki grins. “What a stupid thing to cry over.”
Shouto pinches his cheek. In return, Katsuki turns his head to bite at Shouto’s fingers. He pulls his hand away right before teeth chomp down.
“I’m serious.”
“I know. You better love me after all I’ve done for you today. You’re very demanding when you’re sick.” Katsuki turns back to Shouto and pulls his head forward to kiss the rest of his tears off his cheek.
“But you still love me,” tangling his legs with Katsuki’s, Shouto sniffs and pushes his head under his boyfriends chin.
“Yeah, I do.”
Katsuki’s lips press on the top of his head, and Shouto thinks, for the first time in his life, that being sick isn’t all that terrible.