Work Text:
When Katsuki loses his quirk after the war, after he died, he is perpetually cold. His quirk always kept his body temperature much higher than an average person’s, but now that it’s gone, he’s freezing. And he hasn’t been talking to anyone in 2A, because he doesn’t belong there anymore, he knows that. They still try to see him, tried to stop him from moving out of the dorms, then tried to coax him out of his home. But nothing works–it’s a futile effort, but they won’t stop trying, reaching out their stupid hands as if Katsuki isn’t completely undone by this loss.
They hear the exhaustion in his voice, when they call and he bothers to answer, or is able to hear his phone over the dull roaring in his ears. But it’s only Izuku who notices how tight his voice sounds, and the distinct (well-hidden) clattering of teeth.
When Izuku stops by the next day, the Bakugous eagerly welcome him in, because no one has been able to actually see Kacchan, not since he moved home, and they had to run out for some groceries, which would mean their son would be left alone. Masaru had tears in his eyes too, before they left, at the pain his son was in. A pain he couldn’t understand, and worse, a pain he couldn’t fix.
And something allows Katsuki to open the door, when he knocks, to see him. And he sees, through the slim crack he’d opened, that the dork’s arms are full of sweaters and blankets and heating pads and heated blankets and hand warmers and fuzzy socks and warm gloves.
Katsuki's eyes, despite himself, fill with tears. Izuku looks down sheepishly (knowing Katsuki probably doesn’t want to be seen crying, knowing how uncomfortable that would make him).
“I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out,” he stammers out, rubbing the back of his neck, “but, you’re cold, aren’t you?”
The blonde barely manages to nod.
“Can I come in?” The words are careful, gentle, as if even the wrong timbre may force Kacchan to change his mind. But… Katsuki steps aside, and he watches in awe as Izuku just… starts working. He adjusts his thermostat to stay on heat, he cleans up the trash and the clothes and organizes things and makes the room look Katsuki-Bakugou-approved.
He does this quietly, only some idle mutterings here and there. Mainly, because he doesn’t want Kacchan to think he’s a burden, or that he’s gross, or that he’s unworthy of his kind of help. Because everyone needs to be lifted up sometimes. No one can carry a weight this heavy alone forever.
Once the dishes are in the sink and the clothes (and bed sheets) are washing, Izuku takes out the new sheets he bought (with a cute fire pattern). He throws them in the dryer so they get extra warm before he makes the bed. And he adds the blankets. and he turns on the heated blanket. and he turns around with a small smile, feeling triumphant that he was able to help. When he sees Kacchan, his face looks like the shock and wonder and awe on little kids’ faces when they see their Christmas presents under the tree.
“Why did you…”
“You would’ve done the same for me.”
Kacchan swallows hard, but nods at that. “Is there anything else I can—?”
“Stay,” Kacchan interrupts, his voice breaking, tear stains on his round cheeks, dusted in a rose blush, “please… stay.”
And he does. And they talk. And Izuku holds Kacchan as he cries. And Izuku murmurs soft, sweet nothings into his ear about how amazing he still is, how amazing he will always be, quirk or no quirk. And Izuku gives him the sweater he’s wearing, and his heart swells as Kacchan immediately accepts it and is swallowed in the fabric. And Izuku strokes Kacchan's hair as he falls asleep. And he stays there to keep him warm, and safe, and protected.