Chapter Text
A white room greeted Shouto.
He opened his eyes slowly, heavy with sleep, before closing them. He would be happy to sleep some more, but it seemed that someone was having none of it.
"Oi, you half ‘n half bastard, wake the fuck up!"
Shouto did not wake the fuck up! Half petty and half sleepy made for a dynamic duo that annoyed Bakugou a lot, and was thus one of Shouto's favourite moods.
He mumbled something instead, but when a familiar warm hand stroked his hair, his eyes peeked open again.
"Ha!" Bakugou crowed. "Knew that'd get ya up, you lazy idiot."
The words were boisterous, but even in his exhausted state, Shouto could see the worry behind those red eyes he was becoming accustomed to seeing almost everyday.
He wondered why.
"Ah, Todoroki-san, you're awake," a stranger said, and peered at him. "How do you feel?"
Ah.
A nurse.
A hospital. He was in the hospital.
He was also in pain.
"Yes," he rasped. Then, "I feel ok."
"Bullshit," Bakugou said instantly, eyes narrowing. "Your hand's fuckin' trembling."
"No it's not," Shouto denied, and childishly hid his hands under the bed sheets where the tremors could remain safely hidden, away from the blond's sharp gaze.
But Bakugou- grabbed them. He held Shouto's hands in his own, clasping them like a prayer and engulfing them like a safety blanket.
"They are," Bakugou repeated softly, but it didn't seem like he was saying it out of arrogance, or to get the last word in like he usually did. He looked lost, staring at their joined hands, while Shouto was staring at Bakugou, equally lost.
A cough startled them both, their daydream bubble popped to submerge them back in reality.
"It seems like everything is in order," the nurse said. "We'll monitor you for another hour, but you should be discharged by this evening. I assume Ground Zero-san will be helping you at home?"
What.
"Huh," Shouto said. "I'll be alright by myself."
Really.
He wasn't too sure exactly why he was even in the hospital.
The nurse looked at him. "According to my assessment, your leg is partially broken. Usually it would be healed by now, but the villain's quirk made it so it'll be in the same state for up to four days."
"Villain?" Shouto asked.
"You fought with Stasis, remember? His quirk can keep something in the same state for up to four days," Bakugou informed, lip curled downward.
Oh.
Shouto moved his legs then. His right one was fine, but when he moved his left, he felt a whip of nerves sear a line from his ankle to his thigh like hellflame surrounded it.
He bit his tongue to suppress a yelp (old habits die hard), but his hands jerked in shock as the pain reverberated around his leg; pins and needles jostling around vigorously.
Bakugou was there though (like he always seemed to be these days). He squeezed Shouto's hands, and pressed a kiss to them- a nice touch to sell the boyfriend act, he thought idly.
"You dumbass," Bakugou scolded, though he looked more concerned than angry.
The nurse tsked, placing some painkillers in his hands. "Take these. The side effects are lowered inhibitions and drowsiness, but it will stop the pain."
Shouto took them dry, but accepted the water after gratefully. The nurse left soon after, leaving him alone with Bakugou. He was still looking grumpy, and while that seemed to be his usual expression, Shouto saw the tension; tautness in his eyebrows and rigid posture giving him away.
"Bakugou," Shouto blurted out, and continued at the other's hum. "Thank you."
"For what."
"For being here with me.”
"Tch. No need to thank me for that, it's like the bare fucking minimum."
Shouto shook his head. “No. The bare minimum would be a text.”
Bakugou let out a noisy breath. “Who do you take me for? What, you think I’ll see you get beat up in the news, enough for you to go to the hospital, and just send a shitty text?!”
A frown. Bakugou was getting it all wrong.
“I didn’t imply that,” Shouto said, slightly frustrated. “I just- I’m grateful you’re here with me. Usually I wake up alone.”
Always, always waking up alone. There were those precious moments in UA of course, where Izuku or Momo or another friend had waited for him to wake up. But after graduating, it was hard to make time to hang out, let alone see someone spontaneously in a hospital. Shouto understood it of course, but.
Having someone, having Bakugou be there, holding his hand and looking concerned and here, here, here, sent him to cloud nine, figuratively and- literally too. Even though he was lying still, he felt the world tilt slightly and get tainted in a cotton cloud fog.
Shouto blinked drowsily. The thumb circling on his palm was the only thing that felt grounding at this point; a constant, pleasant tingle that made him beam at the source.
❄️············· ☼☼☼ ·············💥
Katsuki had come as soon as he heard. One look at the alert on his phone, and he just blurted out some excuse to his sidekick, Magneta. “My uh, my boyfriend’s in the hospital. I'm gonna get out of here. Tell the agency. Got it?”
The words just fell out natural, and he didn’t even have time to feel conscious about it. His heart was racing, the worry (when had he even become a worrier? that was some Deku shit) just coursing through his veins.
“Your-oh! I’ve got it all covered here sir,” she said, always so eager-to-please. Kind of reminded him of a younger Deku, honestly.
He didn’t waste anymore time after hearing that. The hospital was only a few blocks away, and when he got there it annoyed him to no end that no one would tell him where to find Shouto. No-Todoroki. No. Shouto. His Shouto.
When the nurse at the desk looked up from the sheet he wasted no time telling her exactly who he was. “Jesus christ, I’m his boyfriend. He needs me! Let me see the chart myself, I’ll find him, fucking hell.”
Later, he’d rationalize to himself that he just said all of that because he wanted to check for himself that Todoroki hadn’t done anything too stupid.
‘Cause he (and every single one of their friends) was a self-sacrificing, run-straight-into-danger idiot. Yeah, it came with the job. Sure.
It just got so exhausting, sometimes. The broken bones. The unending torrent of what-ifs even when they were fucking fine, the long, pain-in-the-ass recoveries.
When he finally got to see Todoroki it was a bit of a relief. When he took hold of his hands and saw they were trembling though, it hurt. It was weird. It hurt Katsuki to see him like that. There was a connection there. Like they were one unit and anything that hurt Todoroki automatically hurt him too.
What the fuck.
Then Todoroki had the-the audacity-to thank him for being here. As if he would be anywhere else. Just twiddling his thumbs while Todoroki just lay there, hurt. It was wrong. Todoroki was stupid for thinking Katsuki would be anywhere but here.
Then even dumber still, after a while, when he started to get this weird look in his eyes.
“Oi, what exactly did you give ‘im?” he hissed at the nurse as she turned to leave.
“Like I said, just painkillers, but it had to be quite a high dose, to be effective even with the effects of the quirk he’s under,” she explained, almost apologetic. “It’s standard procedure.”
Standard procedure, his ass. He kept holding Todoroki’s hands and just kept looking at him. Todoroki looked at him right back, and he was smiling at Katsuki. So sappy. So fuckin’ cute.
“What?” he glared. “You high or something?”
“You’re pretty,” Todoroki said softly.
“What?” he said, again, but this time, quieter. In semi-shock.
“You are. I like the way you look at me,” Todoroki sighed. “Sometimes it feels like you’re my real boyfriend.”
Standard procedure, Katsuki repeated to himself. He’s under the influence of drugs, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking out of his ass like this.
“I always thought you were cute, but I never could tell you,” Todoroki frowned. “You would have probably thought I was mocking you or something.”
“I’m not cute,” Katsuki insisted.
“Not in a weak way,” Todoroki pouted. “See, you still don’t understand.”
“Like there’s something you understand that I don’t,” he said, and his grip on Todoroki’s hands tightened. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m your idiot, Katsuki,” the bastard smirked. It was a rare expression for him, but Katsuki liked it. The cockiness looked good on him. The way being cared for and taken care of right looked good on him. Lately.
Katsuki didn’t have a single coherent thought in him. Or words to say.
But he didn’t have to. Todoroki gave one more carefree smile (even in a hospital gown with his hair all matted, a mess, he was still so frustratingly good-looking) before clonking out completely.
What an utter dumbass.
❄️············· ☼☼☼ ·············💥
There was a strange sense of deja-vu, when Shouto stirred groggily again. He let out a sleepy mumble, turning his head away from the bright lights that shone through his closed eyes, and got rewarded with a light forehead flick.
“Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty,” an amused voice called.
Shouto did not ‘wakey wakey’, but the gentle nudge of a hand prodded him enough that he did. He slowly opened his eyes, accustoming his eyes to the lights as he glanced at Bakugou, the assailant responsible for the prods.
“Annoying,” Shouto mumbled, and caught the glimpse of a smirk on Bakugou’s face before closing his eyes again.
“Don’t do that,” Bakugou tsked, and went back to the shoulder nudges. “Seriously, Todoroki. You wanna go home, right?”
Shouto hummed an affirmative. “Yes. Soba is probably hungry-”
-which, reminded him of his situation. Their earlier conversation came back in puzzle pieces, fragments of sentences piecing together into coherent thoughts that he tried to decipher through the fuzzy fog. He did recall something about Bakugou offering his help, but.
He didn't need Bakugou's help. Shouto knew his instant noodle stash and sugary cereal were within reach in the cupboard so he didn't need to strain himself going up or down. The cat food though...
"Bakugou," Shouto said seriously, fuzzy fog replaced with determination. "Can you help me take care of the cat?"
"Ex-fucking-scuse me," Bakugou said.
"You're excused," Shouto permitted. Then repeated. "The cat... I probably won't be able to feed her since I put the food out of her reach, and it hurts a bit when I bend down."
He felt Bakugou still, hand still absent-mindedly on his shoulder gripping tight. Shouto looked at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Asking for help with the cat was a spur of the moment decision, but maybe...
Maybe it wasn't a good idea, if Bakugou's silence was any indicator.
"Actually, it should be alright," Shouto backtracked.
Shouto figured he could use a spatula to open the cupboard above him where the cat food was. The treats would be poured into a bowl messily on the floor, but it should be doable. Besides, he was accustomed to the pain; the sprained or bruised or broken or whatever it was ankle he had now wasn't too concerning in the grand scheme of his life.
Thinking back on it, it was silly, asking for help with such a minor thing.
"It's not alright," Bakugou said, tone fierce and gruff and- upset. "Course I'll help you with your cat, you can't even walk without making a stupid expression."
"Yes I can," Shouto refuted, and made a note to have a blank face when he walked next to prove exactly that.
Bakugou ignored him, as he does. "And I'll help your ass too."
What.
"You don't need to," Shouto hurried to say. Really. "I'm fine."
"I know I don't need to! I fuckin'- want to, ok?"
Like this, with Bakugou holding his hands, and saying he would take care of Shouto, and being here when no one else was... like this, it was easy to pretend like their pretend was real.
Selfishly, indulgently, Shouto whispered, "ok."
❄️
Bakugou drove Shouto home with his car. It was different from riding a motorcycle. The outer world drowned out the sounds of talking and his heart beating on two wheels. On four, the outer world was drowned out by their silence, only a soft city pop tune playing on the radio.
Bakugou was tapping the steering wheel, in tune to the turn right indicator.
"Don't you have patrol tonight?" Shouto blurted out.
It was Thursday, and Bakugou always had evening patrols on Thursdays.
"Took it off," Bakugou grunted.
"Oh." Shouto bit his lip, and stared out the window. The sentiment behind Bakugou taking the day off for him wasn't lost on him, but he struggled to find the right words. "You don't-"
"I swear if you say I don't have to one more time I'm gonna lose it."
"I just don't understand."
He didn't. Bakugou had never taken a day off for being sick (and Shouto would know, he had been there when the blond had coughed on a villain’s face), and if he did, it wouldn't be for something as inconsequential as-
"You don't have to," Bakugou said brusquely. “It’s simple. Your leg is fucked and you can’t even stand without looking all mopey and shit. What kinda hero would I be if I just let that happen?"
Oh. It revolved back to heroics then. Shouto hummed, leaning back on the chair.
"Besides Shitty Hair and the squad are workin’ tonight.” Bakugou continued. "If they really need me, I'll be on call."
It was testament to how much Bakugou matured, for him to leave heroics to other people he trusted. He trusted very few, and Shouto was honoured to be one of them.
"Thank you, Katsuki," Shouto said instead.
The familiar moniker slipped from his lips accidentally, but surprisingly, Bakugou didn't comment on it.
"Thank me by not injuring yourself more," Bakugou grumbled, and parked the car by a one hour park sign.
Shouto's chest squeezed funnily at the limited time, mental clock starting it's countdown till Bakugou was no longer by his side.
Shouto reached for the door handle, only for it to open by itself, or, well. Bakugou had opened it, like he had teleported to the other side.
"I can open a door," Shouto protested.
Bakugou tsked, and his arm snaked around Shouto's waist as he got up. It was embarrassing, to not be able to even walk by himself, but.
The touch was nice. With the chilly evening air and Bakugou’s warmth, Shouto could bask in the indulgent feeling forever. He leaned further into Bakugou's secure hold, and was handed his crutches soon (too soon) after.
"Good?" Bakugou asked.
Shouto nodded, gripping the crutches tightly as he walked up to his apartment, Bakugou a steady presence at his side. He held open the door, catching Shouto's elbow as he almost slipped.
"Careful," Bakugou murmured, right in Shouto's ear.
The close proximity led him to startle and bang his other elbow on the door. The irony wasn't lost on him, nor Bakugou who tsked and looked incredulous.
"Holy fuck. D'ya need me to carry you, Princess?" Bakugou used his free hand to flick Shouto's forehead, like it was his fault.
"No need," Shouto replied, and straightened as best as he could.
He could do this. He had to.
They made it to the elevator, and Shouto leaned against the rails as Bakugou pressed the button for his floor with the familiarity of one who had done so many times. A quiet befell them, though Shouto could read the other's expression of quiet, subtle worry through the mirror... He could see himself too, when he risked a quick peek, and regretted it once he saw his pallid face and matted hair.
The elevator pinged, doors sliding open, and Shouto sighed as he made his way out clumsily with Bakugou hot on his trail.
On days when he came home exhausted and bruised, the distance between his apartment and elevator had always seemed a ways away, like every step was saddled with despair and accomplishment simultaneously. Now, focusing on one step forwards at a time, straining to put his weight on one leg, he just fell into the plains of despair (see, he could do metaphors now too).
"You're almost there," Bakugou said, voice almost a whisper like he didn't want to ruin the sanctity of public hallways where words carried over to prying neighbour's ears.
Shouto grunted something. Even he wasn't sure what he was trying to convey, but silence to Bakugou's rare encouragement felt wrong.
After eons or maybe seconds, they reached Shouto's door where a new predicament took place.
"The- keys," Shouto said, looking at Bakugou. "Back pocket."
It was an awkward spot to put it, especially since he was wearing a long coat. He felt it lift and a hand reach into his back pocket to fish the keys out. It would've been a simple thing, if it wasn't for the blond being so, so near, spiky soft hair tickling his nape as he reached over. It also sort of felt like Bakugou was grabbing at Shouto’s ass as he grasped the keys, and that was mortifyingly nicer than he could have ever expected.
The keys jingled as Bakugou took them out, and he looked at them with an amused huff. "You still have this dumb thing, huh."
Shouto looked at the dumb thing, only it wasn't dumb at all. "It's a cat keychain you got for me. Why wouldn't I not have it?"
The double negative didn't take long to decipher, and to his delight, Bakugou's ears flushed a faint pink.
"It's kitchy as hell," Bakugou griped, and unlocked the door. "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised you like that stuff."
"It's cute. And you bought it, so you shouldn't be complaining."
"Hah?! Who said I'm complaining?"
"I did, because you are."
They carried their conversation to the kitchen, where the keys and keychain cat clattered on the tray with another little jangle.
"Well I'm not," Bakugou continued and helped Shouto lie down on the couch before heading off. "Don't move."
"I wasn't planning on it."
Well, until he saw Soba. He perked up, and liked to assume she did too, if her scurrying his way was any indicator. She scampered up the couch, and he couldn't bring himself to be mad at the claw marks he knew he'd find later, because his cat was in his arms again after a stressful day and it was bliss.
"Tadaima," he said, and slowly brought his hand to stroke her behind the ears. "I missed you."
Soba pawed at his face, and he took her pats with a soft laugh.
There was water running in the distance, sounding like a gurgling stream meeting the bath. Huh. Shouto wasn't expecting Bakugou to shower here, but he didn't mind all that much, or, at all really.
But it seemed that wasn't Bakugou's intent. He walked back into the living room, looming over Shouto with a strange expression.
"I ran you a bath, c'mon," Bakugou said, and his looming stopped when he squatted down to put an arm around Shouto's shoulder to heave him up.
"For me?" Shouto asked dubiously.
"No, for your cat- yes, you! Who else is a you here, hah? Some ghost you're not telling me about? Someone in the cupboard?"
It was- defensive, but Bakugou was always like that after he did anything remotely kind, like he was trying to hide one nice deed in the midst of obnoxiousness. Shouto wanted to comment, but in the blond's arms and Soba in his like a hug inception, combined with his tiredness, it didn't seem right.
"There are no ghosts or people in the cupboard," Shouto answered instead. He hummed conspiratorially. "That I know of."
"Keep it that way," Bakugou said. "You good to walk?"
Shouto planted both feet to the ground, and stupidly put weight on his broken one to test the waters. The same nerve-blinding flash snaked up his ankle, deep knuckle like indents digging into his muscle as he did so like acupuncture where the needle twisted his nerves all wrong.
All he managed was a bite of the lip and a hiss; suppress, suppress, suppress. He recalled the time limit of the parking, wondering how much longer they had until Bakugou would leave.
"I can walk," Shouto said blankly.
Bakugou intoned his own hiss, sucking frustration through gritted teeth. "Fuck. Look, I'm just gonna-"
Shouto felt the arm flex around him, then another arm wrap around his legs as Bakugou carried him bridal style.
It was the perfect position to kiss.
Shouto wanted to hide into a closet at the unexpected, slightly humiliating, gesture. At least he wasn't alone in his thought storm. He could see Bakugou determined, but maybe a little embarrassed too. He didn't falter (never did), and stomped to the bathroom.
It was warm inside, and Shouto saw their joint reflection in the foggy mirror; a blur of red and white and blond and togetherness.
And then disconnect.
Shouto was sat on the very edge of the bathtub to avoid the water, and Bakugou averted his gaze.
"Are you going to leave?" Shouto asked, and the intent came out all sorts of wrong. He scrambled to add, "for your car. It's been-"
"Ten minutes," Bakugou interrupted brusquely.
Huh. It didn't feel like ten minutes, but Shouto wasn't even sure what ten minutes was supposed to feel like. Time passed too quickly, and too slow, but always just passed no matter what the perception was.
"Oh. Are you going to stay then?"
"Still have to feed the cat, don't I? And making sure you don't drown."
"I'm not going to drown."
"Tell me after you're done your bath."
"I will."
Shouto would. He would make it out of the bath, undrowned, and tell Bakugou just because he could. But first, he needed to get in.
Well. Before the first, he needed to undress, but under Bakugou's gaze, Shouto didn't feel inclined to do so. Under Bakugou's gaze, Shouto already felt vulnerable, and he didn't want to add to it.
"Um," Shouto said, which snapped the blond out of his staring and into moving out of the bathroom.
"Call me when you're in," Bakugou demanded when he was outside. “I changed my mind. You’re clearly not going to be able to handle this alone.”
Shouto repeated a quiet um to himself. He started to undress, leaving his clothes in a messy pile beside the tub. His shirt was easy to remove, but the sweatpants were a bit harder. He wondered how Bakugou would react if he asked the blond with help to remove his pants, and huffed a bit in amusement at the instant thought of red ears and a loud 'hah?!'
But with enough patience and awkward wriggling, he removed his lower garments and sank into the bath with a relieved sigh. It was the perfect temperature, and Bakugou had even poured in soap so there was a fun foamy and bubbly layer Shouto was mesmerized with.
After a minute of soaking, he remembered Bakugou's words.
"I'm in," Shouto called, and Bakugou answered not a second later, armed with shampoo and conditioner. Shouto cracked a small smile. "Are you going to wash my hair?"
"No!" Bakugou refuted. "You ran outta soap, idiot."
"Oh." Shouto wasn't pouting, really.
Bakugou sighed. "Do you want me to wash your hair."
"If you want to."
"That wasn't my question!"
"Well it was mine."
"You're impossible."
Despite the grumbling, Bakugou complied with Shouto’s indirect question anyways. The blond wet his hands in the water before opening up the new shampoo and putting a dollop in his palms.
“Oi, get your hair wet,” Bakugou tsked, splashing Shouto’s face with water with his free hand.
Shouto took that moment to duck underwater, world distorting the soft bathroom lighting into slivers that rippled when he moved. He stayed under for a few more seconds, then breached the surface. With sufficiently wet hair, Bakugou finally began.
Shouto melted under Bakugou's touch. His fingers scratched at his scalp, lathering the soap in and in until he was lather himself, spread thin into a foam cloud of bliss.
"Close your eyes or you'll get soap in it, dumbass," Bakugou barked, and let out a sigh. "Geez."
Shouto could already feel a sud in his eye, and he shut both of them tightly, refusing to let it sting his eyes. He rubbed at it with his hand, but it only worsened the sting. Right. Bubbles.
"Are you a little kid," Bakugou griped once he saw Shouto's mopey expression. "Don't wipe soap away with more soap!"
"I know that..."
Bakugou swiped at Shouto's eyes gently, ever so gently, with some water, then dabbed at the area with a rag. Shouto opened his eyes, blinking to remove the residual tears. Bakugou wiped those away too, with a tenderness Shouto was becoming too accustomed to these past few months.
"Alright?"
"Mm."
"Close your eyes then, m'not done."
Shouto closed his eyes, and felt hands on his hair again. It was far longer than he would ever lather his hair for, but maybe Bakugou was doing something special, or well versed in hair care (which wouldn't be that surprising, thinking about it). Bakugou was always extremely competent, at everything.
After another minute of pure indulgence, Shouto risked taking a quick peek at his impromptu masseuse; a rapid open and close that left no sign of detection.
Shouto saw Bakugou lost in thought, looking at him the same way he looked at the effervescent sky, all those weeks ago on the meadow.
It had been nearing dusk, sun teetering on the mountains before falling, and the sky had been visceral shades of reds. Shouto had put down his soba to stare at it better, and when he turned to tell Bakugou, he was already gazing at it, lips upturned with a side profile Shouto could gaze at forever.
The sky had been stunning, and now Bakugou was looking at him like he was that same, beautiful sky, and Shouto closed his eyes tighter lest his thoughts wander somewhere forbidden.
He focused on the ministrations instead. They left him feeling boneless, rough fingers magic as the spark spread through his body contently.
Like this, Shouto felt his troubles ebb away; the ankle issue, the villain attack, his feelings-
He felt safe.