Work Text:
News from the girls at the scheduling counter is that Dynamight was actually putting in PTO for the first time this calendar year.
Sure he’s worked hard, but when doesn’t he? It wasn't like he expended so much energy from his last rescue call that he was too tired or anything when you’d last seen him… so the time off request surprised you. Katsuki Bakugou never took time off, even when he’s congested to the point of sounding like a wounded seagull and hacking up a lung.
You called to check on him the first day he was out, but it went unanswered; he texted back instead that he was in the middle of eating and asked what you needed. You told him to rest up, and he proceeded to spam you with the same angry animal memes as always.
At the office, things were at a surprising lull by the end of the week, with Kirishima on your right on the sofa scrolling through some mods Hatsume had for him to review. Meanwhile, you took the rather unprofessional route and scrolled on your phone. Your retort to Kiri’s tutting over the bad habit was that you knew the higher ups were off with Jeanist at some press junket, and you could risk it. Called you a naughty thing, how Bakugou was rubbing off on you. You’re sure even at your hangriest you’re not that prickly.
An instinct, you try calling Bakugou again, this time on speakerphone. It’s been a whole workweek, after all. It rings twice, then straight to voicemail. You end the call before recording anything, and fuss at the phone in your hand.
“Ok, Kiri? This is weird.”
“Hm? What is?”
“He’s never answering,” you lock the phone habitually, “-and I mean never. No ‘hi’, no ‘whaddya want’; did he lose his voice or something?”
Kirishima finally breaks focus to look at you, questioning, “Bakubro?”
“Yeah, he hasn’t– not that I’m trying every day or anything , but it’s been almost a week of nothing and-”
-your phone dings: one new preview of a message from ‘Backpack’ lights your lockscreen, and your frustration ramps up to 60.
“-Then he freakin’ texts – like two seconds later!! What the actual hell is going on with him?!”
Kirishima just snorts.
“Maybe he’s taking a dump~”
“He would not text me on the toilet.”
“All men do it.”
“ KIRI .” you swat his foot off the couch that’s laid out towards you, crossing yours while he cackles behind his ipad’s screen.
“Oh cmon, he’s fine! He’s just taking a breather~” Kirishima presses you with an assuring look you’re inclined to buy, because his delivery is just that sweet, “Doesn’t really take time off much anymore, so if he did, he probably needs it. Been doing a lot of those muscle contracts, which pays well! But it’s no joke how much it takes out of you– Kamui wants him, Rocklock wants him-”
You do worry about the workload Bakugou is under given all the names Kirishima rattles off, but your boy’s assured you it’s all part of his drive. That, and he says Bakugou’s saving up for something important for work, but doesn’t disclose more than that.
You don’t press when Bakugou puts up a wall– knowing full well he tells you things when he’s ready. Till now, he’s not given an indication that he doesn't distrust you with anything- not even his life. You have each other’s backs, and that’s an honor that you value and reciprocate. Perhaps it’s by that faith in one another that you should grant him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe one of these days under another starry sky from the back of your bike, he may share his whats and hows and whys to that sweet spot behind your ear, disguising his secrets with yet another kiss he saves for when you’re alone.
But this silence is really throwing you a curveball. Katsuki’s voice is just one of the many things you’ve come to adore about him. When you confessed that little thought to him, he turned a soft answer -a promise- that he’d answer when you called, day or night. It’s a gruff, punchy sound when you hear it over coms, or even through your shared helmets; but it’s also rumbling, constant, soothing when you hear it fitted against your ear.
You never thought you’d even miss Dynamight’s passive aggressive screaming so much– until you don’t have any echo of him in your head at all.
“-or yknow if it’s not his schedule, it’s his body that’s about to quit on him. He’s probably giving his ears a break, if I had to guess!”
“...His ears .”
Kirishima looks up at you again, like his point was obvious, “Yeah. He can’t wear ‘em all the time– they’ve gotta charge, and if he’s sweat them out of their normal place, they pinch -”
Realization forces you to sit up straight, “Katsuki wears hearing aids?”
“Well he has to, with his quirk!” Kirishima tickled himself explaining so, “Kats probably blew out his inner ear in middle school, and it’s only gotten worse the harder he’s trained. He got fitted for new ones sometime last winter which he says are more comfortable than the last ones, but I dunno -” Kirishima cracked his neck in a roll, “I think he keeps' em in too long; and they drive him batty after a while.”
You didn’t like the sound of that.
Down at your phone, you read the text message fully:
Backpack: Knee deep in dishes. What’s up pretty girl.
You decide to answer,
//Waiting on a call for a pickup, just keeping the couch warm~ Up for a call real quick?
‘Backpack’ takes a minute this time. You reason maybe he’s using speech to text given the perfect grammar.
Backpack: Can’t right now.
// Podcast instead? ((eyes emoji))
Backpack: Pass.
//Kiri misses you… ((sad eyes))
Backpack: No he fucking doesn’t.
Backpack: Throw him a bone or try some fetch, he’ll be fine.
You don’t even laugh at the image with how much he’s deflecting talking to you. Laying back, your concern must be palpable because Kiri nudges you with his foot, and you stare at its buckles; anything from looking at his face.
“He never turns down food.”
“What d’you mean.”
“I mean, he’ll need to eat~” Kirishima’s never ending support coats his words. “-and I’d be shocked if he’d turn his Darling DoorDasher down.”
You snorted, “Hush, you.”
Kirishima knew full well about you two- he’s not blind. He knows about dates one, two, well- every date, whether from Bakubro 's lips or your own. But while it doesn’t feel new and raw… it feels tender and personal, what you share with your hero off the field– and you don’t want the bubble to burst between you and Katsuki. Not just yet.
-which is why, despite your firm concern deep in your gut reminding you of your plans throughout your shift, you are nervous for your first time going to his apartment, unannounced.
You knock four times, then back away to the near side of the door so it doesn’t hit you when it opens. A lull of ‘nothing’ hung in the air..
You reconsidered, suspicion making you bite your cheek: what if he can’t hear you?
You knock four more times, a bit louder. You’re cringing as you come back to your lean. Shuffling, you do indeed look like a food delivery service- an insistent-looking one, to the couple passing by on the ground floor who look up at you and likely wonder why you don’t just call this a ‘contactless delivery’ and jog on..
“Cmon, Kats…” you bemoan before steeling your nerves. You try just three more times, channeling your inner ‘Dynamight’ yourself and banging at a level that would take it off its hinges before cringing away to your waiting spot.
Bakugou’s neighbor pops his head out of the door opposite you this time– nailing you with a reproachful look. Apologies mouthed, you smile demurely as the sound of a very aware Bakugou approaches now.
“ I’M COMING, DAMMIT! ”
The neighbor -perhaps wisely- shuts his door as he hears the door about to be unlocked. The way his eyebrows fly up, you infer that he does little to ever cross his hotheaded neighbor.
“ALRIGHT ALREADY- WHAT ?!”
He's gorgeous, still. Pissy and caught off his guard, and donned headphones around his neck. But Bakugou double-takes to you with a frozen mouth, watching you push off the siding seemingly unaffected by his outburst and smiling casually.
“Hiya~”
His jaw flexes, but he forces his snarl away. Clearly conflicted at your presence, he pinched his brow.
"Said you were workin’ today. What’re you doing."
"I was in the neighborhood. Brought you a bowl~" you bribed the man's heart with the top way you knew how: a white and red ‘thank you’-covered baggie with the jackpot inside..
He likes kamameshi so he doesn’t hafta chew a ton. If his ear n’ jaw are tired, the softer the better. You can't go wrong with a nice bowl o’comfort… Not like it’d last long with that guy’s appetite on a good day, anyways! Hah!
Hardly one to refuse you (just as Kirishima lovingly predicted), Bakugou stepped aside to let you in, granting you a gentle stroke on your back as you passed him..
Inside, you trade giving him the bag with his offering of your choice in houseshoes. On the far side of the room, the TV is on, including a scroll of subtitles. You look about and the place is spotless- he wasn’t lying about the rage cleaning.
"In the neighborhood, huh?" Bakugou called to you, dishing out the box of takeout while watching you get settled in.
You already said so, but made sure to face him as you speak- eyes all on you. You think that making a sweet delivery is reason enough for your presence here,
"Yeah~ the office drew a short straw on the menu this week, so I’ve been eating out more~ still don’t know how you can mess up potatoes, but sure enough, Feefee’s found a way~" you smile, coming up to his side with a little lilt in your step.
-but Bakugou just drones back,
"Overdue on our lunches, aren’t we sweets. We'll go do something this weekend."
Oh boy. You’re really bad off. A diss at the agency kitchen staff would never go unnoticed by the resident lunch snob, you think to yourself. You may not have lightning fast quips like Kaminari, but c'mon, that was a little funny…
Any other time that Bakugou would willingly suggest a date would thrill you. Maybe he’s even aware that he’s been avoiding you, and is trying to make up for it by suggesting a couple places offhand. But knowing the real reason behind the aversion, it doesn’t warm you the way it always does.
His answer was typical and wasn't really related to what you asked at all, so you watch him take some bites and try again.
You trailed over to his dining kitchenette, taking a seat before him, tone lovely and appropriate for the distance between you.
“You should have seen Kiri’s attempt to make my coffee order. Almost put a pump of salmon oil in instead of simple syrup! But hey, that just means job security for you, yeah? You’re so much better at it.”
You make eyes at the tv behind you as you speak- a test.
He catches your intentional look, but he twists in his seat to glance. Then, focuses back on you and not making a mess of his dish, “Yeah, you can change it if you want.”
So he's got context clues down. Smart, but not convincing enough. Still not hearing.
You try once more, sass tinting your voice as if you were teasing him privately.
" We adopted a purple hippo as an office pet ~"
"Mhm," Bakugou picked up on the attitude, pausing and coming to your side with a bit of a swagger he hopes looks natural, "Sure been a crazy week. Missed a lot. We’ll get back to normal soon, yeah? Cmon, let's go watch somethin’."
Your hands fall to your thighs in a resigned slap. Sighing, you look to him desperately, urging him with more enunciation.
"This is bad , Katsuki."
"What's so bad." Bakugou reads your lips and deflects.
You tap your ear with a sympathetic look.
– his demeanor changes. Horribly.
Bakugou steps away in almost disbelief, edgy and firm: a rolling boil starts to simmer behind his eyes. Turning aside, he huffs. Guilty.
He turns tail to the kitchen, cursing under his breath to ‘give him a second.’ Bakugou pushes his stacks of cleaned dishes aside, making a clash of noise even you flinch at. It’s evident the sound doesn’t phase him.
"No, you don't have to put them-"
" I can't fucking HEAR YOU, woman ; give me a DAMN SECOND !!"
Coming around the island after him, you see he’s trying to get at the charging dock on the backside of his butcher block.
Watching him fiddle with just his right ear, he turns back and faces you prickly as ever, with arms crossed and barely attempting to rein in his anger.
You are sure now you've struck a nerve if he's acting like this around you . You tread carefully,
"I'm not here to just yap your head off, or commandeer your days off. I… was just concerned."
"About what ? I'm fine."
"It's been five days,” you stress gently, “you didn't think I would think it’s weird if you didn’t answer once ?"
"I answered you back every time," Bakugou raised his voice a tick, " Every text – never left you on read, cuz I know that feels shitty!"
"I know you did," you give him credit, "But it's– different when we talk, and you know that difference. It's just that you always call back. It just hasn’t felt normal -for you- is all. And I didn’t know there was going to be a reason like this that’s why."
"Well it's not like I could hear the phone ring anyway, so fuck me for that. How the hell’d you find out anyway. "
"...I didn't know until Kirishima said something. I was telling him I-"
" Of course it fucking was ,” Bakugou huffed again, “Well, it's none of his business, it’s not his problem, and he should kept his DAMN mouth shut."
To trash Kirishima like this -hotheaded and bitter- definitely feels more like an attack than he'd ever mean on a good day. Kiri is his best friend, and clearly close enough to have been there at the first fitting and have a picture perfect memory of it because it mattered so much to his buddy to be there for him. To not let it define him.
You can't pretend to know how sensitive of a subject this is, based on how confident Bakugou is with everything in life: even the litany of scars he wears outlining his hero work aren't off limits to discussion. But his answers come armed with cached ammo and heat.
You certainly don't think yourself entitled to everything about him, but you see now that he clearly hadn’t planned to tell you about his wearing hearing aids, or at least hadn’t intended for you find out this way… so someone had to take the brunt of his ire. You think to be grateful he doesn’t appear ready to snap at you, but you feel so much on the outside, it hurts to watch him sizzle.
You try to take the pressure off the leak of the news, "Where's this coming from , hon?"
Bakugou grunts, looking back to you with a raised brow.
You gestured between you just to talk with your hands a little, "Where is this coming-"
"HELL IF I KNOW!” Bakugou shouts back, “It just IS. I just wanted- it-- Look, just fuckin’ drop it, ok? I will. be back. tomorrow. And everything’ll be like it was before you knew a damn thing, ALRIGHT??"
He's defensive and mean now; the pitch he never aimed at you before now entered the ring.
This was a line you were damned sure not to let any man cross.
"Ok, we're gonna try that again,” you spoke plain as day.
"Try WHAT again??"
" Discussing , not fighting." You stood firm at his counter. You will not be taking up a screaming match under any circumstances, and have to make that clear. "Coming up with an answer -together- because that's what we do when our backs are up against the wall... Not bite the hand that's trying to help. ‘Hit the problem, not the player’."
The words resonate with Bakugou, having been the one who shot that reminder to you not a week ago from his own mouth, and everything in that face full of fire wants to rear back–
"-and before you say ANYTHING else... You will. not. talk to me like that ."
You hear the hero’s palms sizzle, and see by the look of ire he glares at them with that he clearly hates the feel.
Bakugou lets out a growl then goes silent, obeying. He takes a little pace around, finally settling at the tall, bar-height stool, rubs his palms compulsively at his thighs as a reset, and pulls at his head until it lays dejected in those explosive hands propped up on his knees.
Your invitation to stand by him opens when he lifts his head and scowls behind tented fingers. Kindly, you make sure to stand closer to his right to give him the best chance of listening.
"Y'know I'm the last one who's ever gonna give you a hard time for this, don’t you?"
Bakugou doesn't answer, but you know he's listening.
"It's hard for me to take time off work too, I don't do it as much as I should. I know it's hard to leave work at work, and you did that on your own, in order to take care of yourself. You know your limits and that’s keeping you alive. That was really wise."
You see a little bob of the head by the slight jostle of his hair.
What bothers you here and now isn’t just selfish thoughts of ‘why didn’t he tell me’, but ‘why didn’t he tell anyone’ ? It’s clear by what you’ve learned that next to no one knows of his condition. That small aspect of this gives you a little comfort, but opens up a bigger dose of worry. Hearing impairment might be perceived by a bystander as a defect or weakness, but for the old friends and medical experts who surely surround him, you’d feel confident in Bakugou’s care to know he’d surely not think of himself that way.
Surely not… surely not?
“But the thing is, if it's coming down to you hurting and needing help- or just, getting time away if that's what you really want, I can totally get that. But between you and I? We've gotta figure out how you really feel about this, because it’s eating at you. Affects everything you do at some point, right? Can't have you working yourself to the bone here, overworking your senses out there, feeling like you can’t speak for days on end, setting things off, either . Even accidentally."
You swipe along his shoulder and arm sweetly, just for a little connection.
“I… I really do care about you, Katsuki. I don't want you to feel you have to manage it all on your own. I want to be someone you can have in your back pocket for help- even with something like this.”
A ‘ride or die’ offer if there ever was one.
Bakugou looks in the direction of your hand. The smooth, unscarred hand you sport is so different from his own. Proof of the softness he lost a long time ago, his sunken eyes tell you. He blinks, and it’s a pensive, sad sight.
"M'sorry."
The hoarseness in that proud voice fell hollow.
To anyone else, it may sound apathetic and half-assed, but Bakugou held so much ‘punch’ in his daily speech that you realized this apology featured the even breath of emotion . Restraint. His control. His gentleness.
“You can't help how your body works, Kats. You don't have to apologize for what's happening naturally. This is... just a side effect, unfortunately.”
“T’snot that,” he said limply.
A second attempt to finish for him, you try again studying the takeout boxes left open. “I.. get you not telling me, too. It’s not my business either.”
Bakugou shakes his head, with a dismissive shake of the head altogether. Instead he lifts up, miserably.
" I don't talk to you that way ."
Through a brief silent showdown, you accept his apology. As rough as he is even with his own mother , Bakugou has framed a different ring for you two to dance in, and harshness doesn’t belong in it.
"You don’t,” the agreement is established, “that's how I knew something's out of whack. Plus, I mean.. if you can’t pick up background noise, it must be hard trying to match volume in a space, right?"
Bakugou’s hoarseness fails him, falling to which air, " That's a shit poor excuse. You were right. I know the difference ."
Meekly reaching for hip, the man sniffles: pulling you the rest of the way between his bent legs.
You step in and he crumbles into your core, strong hands encircling your hips.
" I'm sorry ," he swears.
"It's ok..."
Bakugou squeezes you in, "It's not . Ok . You should have slapped me for that shit.”
“I’m not doing that, either,” you get weary hearing how the guys rough each other up. You’re certainly not applying the same tactics to him of all people.
“Well, it’s inexcusable. I respect you more than to do that. Know better.”
"I forgive you, then."
"You shouldn't, so easily.”
Chin jutted on his still-bowed head, your answer comes simply but openly:
"...That's commonly called love, Katsuki. I love you. That’s what I do."
He's silent and frozen. The only sign of life is that he is -in fact- breathing still.
You said these, the magic words, in record time for anyone you've held affection for... and you didn't care. You loved Katsuki. Loved all of him. Even the prickly bits that threatened to square up at you like a bull.
Friendship was an surprisingly easy test for you two.
Partnership, battle-proven in the public sphere.
But this is the final straw that you’ve been keeping safe and special. Telling Katsuki you loved him would push things to a deeper level than you felt the term ‘boyfriend’ afforded you both at thirty years old. In loving him, and no one else, you just wanted to call him ‘yours’ already and be done with searching for the One.
Since he doesn’t speak, you busy yourself elsewhere. He may not answer nearly as quickly as you given how on-the-spot he mulls in currently… but he hasn’t let go of you, which is a good sign. Good enough for you.
Your mind veers a bit in the quiet. You think to yourself about what feels nicest when you've had your helmet on too long; athletes deal with it, racers deal with it.. Anyone who wears a support item with internal padding giving cushion around the head is bound to force unnatural pressure on every angle for the sake of protection.
On you, this tension lies just behind the ears.
To soothe it, you’d usually draw a sun: a half circle design, zigzagging up and down with your fingertips, creating lines of relief along the tender sides of your head. It's to help the blood flow, and the scratches crackle nicely to the ear canal. Acts as white noise to the senses which is often a welcome change to the low thrum of a headache or grating road noise.
So with careful fingers, a mind set on comfort and a heartful of soft love for this man, you draw twin suns deep within Katsuki's hair.
…within seconds, he wept.
Bakugou softly cries and he holds you close. He turns in his seat, pulling you to fit even tighter between his knees with no gap of room between you.
When he can regulate his breaths down to calm blows from his lips, he shares more what's on his mind, down the space between you.
"...that feels really good."
"I hoped so~. So your head bothers you too, after a while. Having them in all the time?"
He turns his head finally to rest on one side, the functionally deaf side leaning into your chest... listening out for a heartbeat it seems.
“N’it’s all inside, so it’s hard to touch it unless I pump myself full of horsepills… makes m’stomach hurt."
From head to toe, he’s being honest about what this means for him. "The thing that’s meant to help, hurts? I’m sorry, hon."
He's still swallowing back his emotions, so you don't press for what he wants to say when it's clear he's focused on getting good rhythm back.
"My arm gets numb sometimes, too."
You're surprised at this, as more pieces fit together you didn’t know were necessarily missing, "-Yeah?"
"It's somethin' in the tendons. Can fight fine, but small moves are weird. I can't pick up a fucking piece of paper right. N'holding my phone hurts some days."
With a kiss to his hair, you see the teed-up ‘in’ to make him laugh,
"Well, who're you gonna be texting anyway, now that I won't be blowing up your phone?"
He tuffs. Joking aside, you hugged you close. “Gotta to back to that dumbass doctor, don't I."
"They can check your nerve endings with a scan. See if there's a reason for it."
Bakugou accepts this and continues his baring of his heart. He mentions old pains, some new ones, even some random details about which oscillating fans he likes on or off because of how warm he runs. Some of it relates to his work, some not, but you take it all in. Each little snippet he offers up reminds you of penguin pebbling.
Satisfaction rang through you with the news that caused the biggest physical response in him: he confessed after all that he hadn’t wanted to ignore you at all, and it shows.
His hands massage at you– never getting enough.
“V’missed your voice too,” Bakugou’s voice finally seeps back in- that low, growly rumble of the chest you wanted to play on loop, “But I know I needed that break. I wanted 'em out, just for a little while. Even if I didn’t want to miss the good that comes from keepin’ em in.”
“That’s fine to want. Anytime you need.”
Bakugou turns exploratory with his hand. With the one not locked around your waist keeping you to him, he gives long scritches across your back, up front to hold your side- rooting him.
“N’for the record, not everyone knows. It’s probably in a record somewhere, so it’s not really been taboo or anything. No one’s ever banned me from fighting; not yet at least. It’s not a secret. But… s’been so long, I’ve… never had to explain them to anyone. Sure as shit don't tell the public.”
Tender fingers seek out the soft inner side of your wrist, just a small touch.
“But you…I didn’t know how to open that up. Seems like a random ass thing to drop on you.”
You understand, and think it sweet that he at least had contemplated telling you at some point– but now, you could only look to his future and knew this would only help you moving forward.
"Nothing’s random if it’s important to you. So head scratches are a yes. Fast food is a yes, keeps you out of the stores. Anything else I should keep in mind to help?"
Bakugou thinks, but just holds onto you with a little nuzzle, "Not now. Yer doin’ it ."
Happy and soft, you smile, "Okey~"
After a minute, he's matched your breathing, and you only move when he lifts his head to chin up at you from his spot. You smile expectantly seeing him less harsh around the edges and looking at you on the softer side of pitiful. Like he's looking to you for the solution-- neck bared and showing a rare vulnerability.
" You're my hero, Kats ," you dote on him. Hands through his hair, scritching at the base, "y'know that right?"
"Damn right."
"And you aren't anywhere near throwing in the towel over this."
His smirk returned, " Damn right."
Bakugou’s neck received more soothing treatment again– making his eyes flutter,
"Because my Lord Explosion has way too many baddies left to murder before he allows anyone get to his getaway driver, right?"
Finally showing signs of his spark back, Bakugou growls his pleasure.
"Y'talking about murder does things to a man, baby."
"Thought it might... I mean every word though. You take such good care of me, Kats. Let me do the same for you sometimes, ok?"
"... Yeah alright," he finally caves easily with tepid palms smoothing over the back of your thighs. Still keeping you close, forehead falling to rest against you, you feel finally content that your presence has helped him.
All your one-sided concerns now settled, you feel glad that your update to Kirishima later will share that Bakugou’s okay– and will likely add in a fair heads-up that he might still be pissy with him come Monday.
After some cursory scratches across his shoulders, you remember to hold out a hand by his eye level. Bakugou hums when he notices it, and raises his hand to hold yours-- only for you to dodge it, and keep it open.
Let me have it, silly.
After checking ‘what on earth you were getting at’, he tilts to see your fingers open again. The blond head of hair at your chest sighs, decides, then takes the lone hearing aid out and returns it into your open palm. With careful depositing, you set it on the counter behind you with the note-to-self to put it back with its mate– and return your hands to yours .
Bakugou centered himself by breathing you in. Once he had you snug in his arms again, he pressed a firm kiss through your shirt, hoping you felt everything he couldn’t say behind a tight throat.
You thought it silly, but with him resting fairly tame right on your chest, you thought you'd try a little enrichment for him:
That stupid song from the pop-up takeaway truck was still stuck in your head, so you started humming it to him.
With how high you stood above him doling out scritches to his temple, you missed how his eyes opened for a flash in recognition of today’s current brainrot love ballad; but you didn't miss how he pressed in closer to you and really listened.