Work Text:
“Catch!” Bakugou threw a stick into the distance, and Black Fang immediately ran after it. Izuku couldn’t help but giggle–as much as Bakugou tried hiding it, he had a very soft side to him that he only dared show to Izuku, and even then he only showed it begrudgingly.
“It’s cute how much you and Fang get along, Kacchan!” Izuku teased Bakugou, and Bakugou immediately gritted his teeth.
“Hey! It’s called training him for hunting. If he can’t catch a stick, how is he supposed to catch a rabbit!?” Bakugou yelled, at which Izuku simply giggled. Even though he tried to hide it, Kacchan only proved Izuku’s point further, as the small blush on his face clearly showed how flustered he was at being caught in a moment of care.
Izuku could’ve easily teased his boyfriend even further with that, but he decided not to. After all, their journey to gather resources for the Spirit Festival had just begun, and they had a week ahead of them. *Plenty* of opportunities to tease Bakugou.
The Spirit Festival was Deku’s favourite time of the year. It was always held mid winter, and was the time for reuniting with the spirits of your ancestors, deceased and celebrating their lives. Most importantly, it was listening to stories about their lives, what they believed in, and taking their wisdom to heart for the following year. The streets and houses were lined with decorations, traditionally handmade by the children and the elderly, with a huge feast being prepared by everyone else in the village. Bakugou wasn’t one to celebrate the festival as happily as everyone else, but Deku would often catch him praying away from everyone else, secretly enjoying the connection he had with his late grandma. He never bothered him, but he had a feeling Bakugou knew about this, and still trusted him enough to not tell anyone.
Snapping himself out of his thoughts and clearing his throat, Izuku brought out the list of items he had written on parchment paper.
“Ok, so we’re going to need to gather a ton of wood for the bonfire, cloudberries, stinging nettle, wood sorrel, dandelions, blackthorn…”
Bakugou audibly groaned. “Blah blah blah, what’s with all the plants? I brought Black Fang for a reason–we need hares! Deer! And let’s not forget boar!”
Izuku simply ignored him and continued on “...chestnuts, acorns and hazelnuts. As for meat, I was getting to it, but thank you for your input!” Izuku said genuinely, and Bakugou simply let out a tsk. He always knew exactly how to prick him right where it would annoy him. Izuku’s genuineness sometimes - no, often - got on his nerves, but if he was being honest, there was nothing better than seeing him light up.
As they continued walking, dragging their sled with them, Fang got back with his stick, hoping for yet another round. He dropped the stick on the ground in front of them, vocalised and sat down. This time, it was Izuku who picked the stick up and threw it into the distance. Fluffy bleated, this time running after the stick as well. The two animals got to the stick at the same time, each grabbing the opposite side, and they started fighting for it, each pulling in their own direction.
This was going to be a long week.
Izuku knew this was just friendly fire and let them at it, but Bakugou, who was already on edge due to being forced to gather herbs and not just hunt, was not having fun. He frowned and yelled.
“Hey, drop it! We don’t have that much time to lose, idiots. Deku, tell your lil sheep to let it go.”
Izuku simply sighed. “They’re just having fun. Besides, I think we have plenty of time. Let them play, they’re way ahead of us as is.”
Bakugou ignored Izuku’s words, and instead just started running in their direction, quickly catching up, and crossed his arms.
“Hey, cloud boy, drop that!”
Izuku sighed and started walking a little bit faster, now pulling the sled by himself. “Fluffy, it’s ok! You can let it go.”
Fluffy, who was getting tired of their little play, dropped the stick, and Fang emerged victorious. He wagged his tail and ran a few circles around him, at which Fluffy just bleeted. Bakugou smirked and petted Fang.
“Good boy! I knew you would win.”
The victory was short-lived. No sooner had Bakugou finished praising the wolf than Fang, in a fit of triumphant exuberance, shook the stick with such force that it flew from his jaws and landed squarely in a dense thicket of brambles.
“Dammit, mutt!” Bakugou snarled, stomping towards the brambles. “Now look what you did.”
Izuku finally caught up, the sled skidding to a halt. “It’s okay, Kacchan. We can just leave it. There are plenty of sticks around, we can easily find a new one for them to play with!” He peered into the thicket, his eyes scanning the branches. “Oh! Look, there’s a blackthorn bush right there. We can kill two birds with one stone.”
Bakugou grumbled, but he couldn’t argue with Izuku’s logic. He hated it when Deku’s nerdiness was actually useful. “Fine. Whatever. Just get the stupid stick and the stupid thorns so we can move on.”
Izuku, ever eager to be helpful, carefully approached the thicket. The blackthorn was indeed growing right where the stick had landed, its dark, spiny branches promising a painful encounter. “I’ll just climb this little tree next to it,” he mused and pointed to a young, slender birch. “I can lean over and reach both without having to fight through the brambles at the bottom.”
“Tch. Don’t fall, you klutz,” Bakugou warned, though he already had his attention elsewhere. Fluffy, in his excitement, had gotten tangled in a bush while running around and teasing Fang. It was on Bakugou to untangle his wool and set him free once again, and yet the ram looked utterly unbothered by the entire ordeal.
“I’ll be fine!” Izuku chirped, his confidence bolstered by the simple, straightforward task. He found a foothold on the birch and began to climb up. The tree was slim and flexible, bending slightly under his weight. It was an easy climb, and in moments he was level with the upper branches of the blackthorn. He stretched out his arm, his fingers brushing against the smooth wood of the lost stick. “Almost… got it!”
And that was when Izuku’s world turned upside down.
The birch, unable to bear the shifting weight, suddenly let out a single crack. It wasn’t dramatic or loud, the slenderness of the young tree making it softer, but the noise was loud enough to let everyone in the near vicinity know the tree had snapped in two.
Izuku’s stomach lurched, and he found himself unable to react to the sudden danger he had found himself in. For a single, weightless second, he was suspended in the air. Then gravity took hold.
“Kacchan!”
The next thing he knew, he hit the ground with a heavy thud, with a sharp, blinding pain forming in his right ankle. He could feel it swelling, pressing tight against his boot. The air rushed from his lungs in a pained gasp. The stick and a few broken blackthorn branches landed beside him, a mocking prize.
Bakugou’s head snapped up at the sound. He saw Izuku on the ground, clutching his leg, his face contorted in a silent scream before the sound finally escaped. A cold jolt, entirely different from his usual anger, shot through Bakugou’s veins.
“Deku!” He was at his side in an instant, shoving a concerned Fang and a bleating Fluffy aside. “You absolute idiot! What did I just say?!” His voice was loud and frustrated, but his hands, as they moved to Izuku’s leg, were surprisingly gentle, telling an entirely different story.
“I-I’m okay,” Izuku wheezed, tears of pain pricking the corners of his eyes. “It’s just a twist. I can keep going.”
“The hell you can!” Bakugou barked, his fingers carefully touching the outside of Izuku’s ankle, trying to note the severity of the damage. Izuku flinched, a hiss escaping his lips. “You’re not walking on this. Don’t even think about it. That’s a stupid idea, and you’re not a stupid person, so stop acting like one.”
Bakugou removed Deku’s boot and sock, leaving his foot out in the open. He worked with a grim, practised efficiency. He shrugged off his backpack and rummaged through it with a series of grumbled curses directed at Izuku’s “reckless, self-sacrificing, damn-noble bones.” He pulled out a roll of clean bandages and a small jar of salve–a potent mix of comfrey and arnica that his own mother had made for just such occasions.
“This is going to sting a little,” was his only warning before he slathered the salve onto the swollen joint. Izuku gasped at the sudden prickling feeling, but the numbing effect was almost immediate. Bakugou’s hands were firm and sure as he began to wrap the ankle, the bandage tight and supportive, a perfect lattice of care and frustration. He didn’t look at Izuku’s face, his focus entirely on the task, but his focus was perfect, clenching his jaw in frustration. “You’re gonna sit your ass down and you’re gonna rest. That’s an order.”
Izuku wanted to protest. The sun was still shining, and they had so much more to gather. Hell, they had barely even started gathering! But the pain was powerful and undeniable,, and the fierce, worried intensity in Bakugou’s crimson eyes stole the argument from his lips. He simply nodded, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.
Bakugou finished the bandaging with a sharp, final tuck. He stood, his gaze sweeping the small clearing. It was as good a place as any. A small stream bubbled nearby, and the trees provided a natural windbreak.
“Stay,” he commanded, pointing a finger at Izuku as if he were one of the animals. He then set to work, his movements a study in controlled, purposeful energy. He cleared a circle of ground, built a ring of stones, and within minutes had a small, crackling campfire going. He dragged their supply sled close, creating a barrier on one side. He unpacked their bedrolls, laying them out side-by-side near the fire’s warmth. He set Deku’s boot and sock to dry as well, as they had gotten wet from their long walk.
The late afternoon sun dipped below the treeline, plunging the forest into a deep, blue-tinged twilight. The fire became the heart of their little world, its light pushing back against the encroaching dark.
The day was already cold, but it couldn’t compare to the freezing temperatures of the evening. Izuku, even though he was more than prepared for the cold with his woolen, thick jacket, found himself shivering.
Bakugou saw it and slowly made his way over to Izuku. He sat down beside him, his body a solid, warm presence. He didn't say a word, just grunted and pulled a thick woollen blanket from his pack, draping it over Izuku’s shoulders. He wasn’t goingn to let his boyfriend get a cold on top of his injury.
“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku murmured, pulling the blanket tight. But he was still shivering. The ground was covered in snow and his right foot only had the bandages covering it, and the shock of the fall was finally beginning to set in. He looked at Bakugou, who sat a respectful, almost rigid distance away, who was himself mildly shivering himself. Bakugou was always the type to try and avoid any kind of sappy behaviours, even though he secretly enjoyed it equally as much as Deku did. A bold, tender idea sparked in Izuku’s mind.
“Kacchan… you’ll get cold,” he said softly. “The blanket’s big enough for two. You should… come under.”
Bakugou stiffened. He stared into the fire, his profile sharp and unyielding. “I’m fine. I don’t need to coddle you.”
“It’s not coddling,” Izuku insisted, his voice gentle but persistent. He lifted the edge of the blanket in invitation. “It’s… efficiency. Sharing body heat is the most effective way to stay warm. It’s just practical.”
Bakugou shot him a look that could kill a small animal. “Don’t try to nerd-logic your way into cuddles, Deku. I’m fine, and you need the blanket more than I do.”
But Izuku just looked at him, his green eyes wide and sincere in the flickering light, the blanket held open like a promise. Bakugou held his gaze for a long, tense moment, a silent battle of wills. Finally, with a sound that was half-groan, half-growl of defeat, he scooted over. He slid under the blanket, his body stiff and uncooperative at first. He kept a few inches of space between them, as if maintaining a final bastion of his pride.
The silence that fell between them was different now. It was filled with the crackle of the fire, the chirping of crickets, and the shared warmth that began to bloom under the wool. The tension in Bakugou’s shoulders slowly began to seep away.
Izuku pulled out some of the food they’d packed–dried meat, hard cheese, and a loaf of crusty bread. They ate in quiet companionship, the simple meal tasting like a feast in the heart of the wilderness. As they ate, Izuku’s courage, fueled by the intimacy of the moment, grew. He finished his last bite of cheese and, with his heart hammering against his ribs, he leaned over.
He pressed a soft, quick kiss to Bakugou’s cheek.
Bakugou froze, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. He turned his head, and for a second, Izuku feared he’d crossed a line. Bakugou didn’t like to be surprised with affection, but Izuku just couldn’t help himself! He looked so cute in the warm firelight, and he wanted to show him how grateful he was. But then, Bakugou’s face turned a soft shade of pink, and his expression, which had been all sharp angles and irritation, softened into something unguarded and incredibly rare. He didn’t say a word. He just leaned in and captured Izuku’s lips with his own.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was all Bakugou–demanding, intense, a little rough around the edges. But it was also warm and real and held a depth of feeling he never could have voiced. It tasted of smoked meat, shared hardship, and a fierce, unspoken devotion. When they broke apart, both were breathing a little heavily, a faint blush high on Bakugou’s cheeks.
“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, turning back to the fire, but he made no move to increase the distance between them.
Izuku just smiled, a warm, contented feeling spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the fire. The adrenaline of the day, the full stomach, and the enveloping warmth finally took their toll. The exhaustion he’d been holding back crashed over him like a wave. His eyelids grew heavy, his blinks becoming longer and longer.
He tried to fight it, to stay awake and savour the moment, but it was a losing battle. His head began to nod, and without conscious thought, he leaned to the side. His temple came to rest against the solid, reliable plane of Bakugou’s shoulder.
Bakugou went perfectly still.
He expected Izuku to jerk away, to mumble an apology. But he didn’t. Instead, he let out a soft, sighing breath, his entire body going limp and heavy against Bakugou’s side. Asleep.
Bakugou sat there, frozen, the weight of Izuku’s head on his shoulder feeling heavier than any pack or sled. He could feel the steady, slow rhythm of Izuku’s breathing against his skin. He looked down.
In the firelight, Izuku’s face was peaceful. All the usual lines of anxiety and determination were smoothed away. His freckles stood out like tiny constellations against his pale skin, and his messy green hair was a riot against Bakugou’s arm. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked… young. Innocent. And so damn trusting, it made something in Bakugou’s chest ache.
He found he couldn’t move. The idea of shifting, of jostling him awake, was unthinkable. It was so… cute. The word felt foreign and ridiculous in his mind, but it was the only one that fit. He looked utterly, devastatingly cute.
A low whine came from his side. Fang had crept closer, his golden eyes reflecting the fire as he looked up at his master and the sleeping boy. He rested his head on his paws, watching them.
“Quiet,” Bakugou whispered, his voice barely a breath. The wolf obediently settled down, though his tail gave a single, soft thump against the ground.
Fluffy, not to be outdone, ambled over and lay down on Izuku’s other side, a living, woolly space heater. The little camp was now a tangle of sleeping bodies and quiet loyalty.
Bakugou let out a long, slow breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He carefully adjusted his posture, making himself a more stable pillow. He pulled the blanket a little higher over Izuku’s shoulders with his free hand. Then, he simply sat.
He watched the fire dance and consume the logs. He listened to the sounds of the forest at night and the even sound of Izuku’s breathing. The village, the festival, the long list of supplies–it all faded into a distant, unimportant hum. The entire world had shrunk down to this single, fire-lit circle, to the warm weight on his shoulder, and to the profound, soft feeling blooming in his heart.
He was Katsuki Bakugou. He was a warrior, a hunter, a force of nature. And in that moment, there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than trapped as a pillow for a sleeping, injured nerd.
He sat there, keeping watch, long into the night. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t need to. The peace on Izuku’s face was a more potent rest than any he could have found for himself. The mission could wait. For now, his only job was to be here. And for once in his loud, explosive life, he was perfectly, utterly content with the silence.