Chapter Text
It’s always the same shit. Deku bounding into danger like he’s some kind of indestructible motherfucker. They’ve been through the wringer enough times now, it shouldn’t panic Katsuki the way it does, but here he is clawing rubble out of the way like a fucking animal anyway. His throat is raw from yelling.
The villain’s strong, battering the city with an absolute deluge of rain, hail, lightning, thunder, even snow. His stupid cronies are commanding the winds, tearing down buildings and cackling like it’s a fucking movie. Tornados spin out of control and all Katsuki hears is the shatter of glass. Shit’s hitting the fan, hard, and he’s too cold now to break up a good sweat. He should be able to formulate some, for the love of God he’s not this weak, but they’ve already been out here for hours and his body is slick from the icy downpour. For once in his life he wishes Shoto were here to heat things up. That bastard’s on the other side of the country on some stupid mission with Iida.
“Deku!” He calls again, lugging an impressive chunk of concrete below.
The crumbling apartment complex below his feet had caved. It had started splintering only moments before and of course Deku had shot off like a rocket, shouting about civilians.
He was too fucking fast, there hadn’t been time for anyone to let him know this place had already been cleared. It had practically deteriorated in seconds. Deku had been too caught up in combat to keep tabs and then he was buried under the fucking parking garage.
He should be out by now. He should’ve blasted through the debris like a bat out of hell, eyes glowing green, snapping Blackwhip in the air. He’s not this weak, either.
But he hasn’t.
The earth shifts, runs muddy and mucky as water starts to swell. The streets are almost rivers now.
“Fuck, come on!” Katsuki snaps, jamming his boot into another narrow space and kicking as hard as he can. A tiny fissure opens, a gust of cool, wet air hits him in the face. Here’s his window.
“I’m going down there!” He yells into his earpiece.
“Wait a second—” Kirishima can’t finish his argument because a literal doorframe swings towards him. He punches it apart with ease, ducks at the next. “Jesus—be careful!”
“Uravity is on her way!” Kaminari informs, not even wincing when more lightning shoots through his arm and into the ground. He’s been at this a while, redirecting it from the others. “She can lift all that!”
No shit she can, but it won’t matter if Deku drowns in the meantime.
“Tell her—,” Katsuki grits his teeth as he slithers down into the crevice. The soles of his shoes skid on a slippery surface. It’s fucking freezing and the cement tears harshly at his arms. “Tell her to haul ass!”
He drops down below, suddenly waist-deep in water that swirls with fury. It’s pitch black but for a few lone light fixtures that dangle from sparking, haphazard wires. Fucking fantastic.
“Deku!” He cups his hands to amplify the sound. It’s a war zone outside, howling and raging. He can hear a few other heroes join the scene above. “Where the hell did you end up?!”
Katsuki wades further, shimmying around crushed cars and random broken furniture. The uneven building frame shakes every so often.
“Answer me, dumbass!”
Katsuki’s stomach is in knots. He’ll never fucking admit that but the increasing lack of reply makes him want to blow chunks. His heart slams against his ribcage, which definitely isn’t good for it, but.
No time to rest.
“Seriously, what the fuck?” He growls.
There are too many pathways, giant pieces of infrastructure mashed together in ways they shouldn’t be. He could be anywhere, under anything, and it’s so goddamn dark.
“If you’re dead I’ll kill you, I swear to God!”
Katsuki rubs his hands together, hoping for any kind of crackle. Maybe if he can light the place up more that’ll help.
But he’s frozen to the bone. It’s never been this bad.
Well, it has, but—
He sees a blip of green. Too bright, it’s not a house plant. Wedged in a corner, halfway underwater, it’s Deku’s head.
Katsuki’s body moves on instinct. He’s not thinking anymore, charging through the current like a bull in a china shop. He’s far across the way but gets there in seconds flat.
“Christ—you idiot!”
He yanks Deku up immediately. He’s got a pulse but his lungs are raspy. Blood gushes from an intense wound at the base of his skull. His head lolls, out like a light. The ceiling must’ve taken him by surprise.
“Wake up, dammit!” Katsuki rights him, presses a gloved hand to his cheek. His lips are purple, his eyelids blue. His four billion freckles make gloomy constellations against pale skin.
“Fuck.”
They need to get out of here, or at least to higher ground, out of the water.
Hastily, he pulls the yellow scarf from Deku’s neck and wraps it over the bloody mess at the back of his head. The fabric is waterlogged but it’s all he has right now. Then he scoops him up like a princess. It would be funny in any other scenario.
“I got Deku.” Katsuki relays. “He’s fucked up.”
He hears Kirishima try to reply but it’s fuzzy with static. Uravity better be five fucking seconds away.
He hauls Deku on top of one of the mangled cars, setting him upright against the windshield. Waterfalls stream around them through every nook and cranny, ever-threatening. Tiny pebbles sprinkle down. Katsuki shakes Deku’s armored shoulder.
“C’mon, wake up. Do I need to slap you?!”
Wouldn’t hurt.
He rears back and does it, half-hearted, only wanting to startle him.
Deku’s eyelids twitch and his brows pull down with a wince. He makes a sound that’s part whimper and part cough, and then very suddenly folds in half and spews his guts onto the hood.
“Dizzy.” Is all he says between hacks. It’s all just the water he inhaled, nothing more, but it looks pathetic and sad and Katsuki kind of hates it. But he sighs in relief.
“At least you’re breathing.” Katsuki scrubs his face, heart finally slowing. They’re still in a shit situation but Deku’s awake. “Is it just your head?”
“Think so.” He answers, quiet, finally finished puking. Deku motions to touch the spot, but seemingly decides against it. “I’m really dizzy. And cold.”
He screws his eyes shut, probably keeping the vertigo at bay.
“Sorry to say Icy Hot isn’t fucking here.” Katsuki grumbles. “And my quirk is shot right now, I’m cold too. What were you thinking, stupid?! You could’ve died under here!”
Deku shrugs, then slumps. He’s slipping out of consciousness again.
“W-wait, don’t—don’t fucking sleep.” Katsuki shifts sideways to line their bodies up hip to hip. He wraps an arm over Deku’s shoulders and puts pressure on the head wound with his hand. There’s blood on his palm before long.
“Deku. Hey! I just said don’t sleep!”
Green eyelashes flutter. “Hm?”
“You’re one hundred and ten percent concussed right now, stay awake or you’re gonna give yourself even more brain damage than you already have.”
The water is roaring beside them now. It’s almost level with the hood and the bottom of the car windows.
“Don’t make me blast you in the temple.”
“Just said you can’t.” Deku slurs. His chin falls sideways and his nose digs into the crook of Katsuki’s shoulder. Deku curls into him, seeking what little body heat is left between them. His hands find purchase at Katsuki’s chest.
“Hey! No, don’t get fucking cozy!” Katsuki’s breath stalls and he feels a blush slide up his neck, through his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. Maybe he’ll finally start fucking sweating.
“‘M not asleep.” Deku mumbles against his throat. Katsuki feels the buzz of it against his skin and this really isn’t the fucking time.
“Keep—keep talking then. Tell me vocabulary or some shit. Or hero stats.” Katsuki forces his voice to stay level as he engulfs Deku in his arms. He ignores the way he fits there, just right. It’s to keep him from getting hypothermia, he justifies. Because obviously it is.
“Who’s number one right now, huh? Deku?”
A plop of water hits Katsuki in the forehead. He looks up to see a new leak, sprung right overhead. Maybe they’ll both fucking drown here. Again, fucking fantastic.
“Number one? Hello, Deku?” He prompts again.
When there isn’t a reply, Katsuki’s heart starts beating hard again.
“Deku. Izuku.” It feels strange, slipping from his lips. Soft and sacred, or something. “Hey.”
That gets a stir from the other. One tiny hum of a laugh. He’s either surprised at the use of his first name or delirious from head trauma.
“Me.” Against his collarbone.
“That’s right, so you’re sorry ass can’t fucking die under a parking garage. Me and Half-and-Half aren’t gonna fight over your rank after you choke out in such a lame way. Have some fucking self respect.”
Deku doesn’t respond, no playful comeback. His fingers had been clutching Katsuki’s top and now they’re lax.
“Hey! What did I just—”
What’s left of the roof explodes and a torrential rush of water washes over them both.
********
It’s not even close to the first time the beeping of a hospital monitor wakes Izuku, and it certainly won’t be the last. His limbs are stiff, his mouth is dry, and the back of his head feels like it was hit by a truck.
But he’s certainly been in worse shape.
“…awake!” A familiar voice coos. He blinks and suddenly Ochaco is there, leaning over the side of the shoddy hospital bed and squeezing his shoulder. She blocks out the gross fluorescent lights. “Took you long enough.”
Izuku hums quizzically and lifts a hand to rub his crusty eyes. An IV is stuck under his skin, feels itchy.
“Yes, the doctors said once they lowered the dosage he’d come around.” That’s Iida. He was supposed to be hours away?
“…enough morphine to knock out a horse.” And Shoto?
“Whas goin’ on?” Izuku mumbles. His memory is a little blurry. He just recalls a lot of bad weather, catty villains, and being smashed under a building like a soda can. He’s so thirsty.
Ochaco adjusts the collar of his hospital gown and wipes back his hair in a maternal way. She moves some tubes out of the way and pats his chest gently.
“You were crazy and went to save nonexistent citizens. The building had already been evacuated by some interns, but I guess you didn’t realize. You got hit pretty hard and Bakugou found you. But then the complex caved in even more. I made it just in time before you guys got washed away!”
A thread of panic wiggles through him at the idea of Kacchan in his own hospital bed, for the millionth time.
“Is he—?”
“He’s fine.” Shoto answers. “Just bruised. Probably his ego more than anything, he couldn’t get an explosion out with the weather. He was barking like a dog about it.”
Sounds like Kacchan.
“Wait, what are you guys doing here anyway? Weren’t you doing intel a few cities over?” Izuku takes in their appearances now. Everything is coming back, the room is forming in his peripherals. It’s a small recovery bunk at the agency. His visitors are in casual street clothes, they aren’t on duty.
Iida smiles softly and adjusts his glasses. “You’ve been out a few days, Midoriya. They know you’re too hard-headed to rest so they sort of forced it upon you.”
“Ah.” That explains the sore muscles, he hasn’t really moved. “Hah. Yeah, they’re probably right to do that, huh?”
“Absolutely.” A new voice joins the conversation and Izuku turns his head to see Hawks in the open doorway. He’s got a manilla folder in hand that’s stuffed full of paperwork. “Glad you’re awake, you’ve got a lot to do.”
“Huh?! What’s all that?”
His friends chime their greetings to Hawks as he enters the room. He’s dressed and ready for patrol, sunglasses pushed in his hair. His wings fold closely to his back so they don’t knock over the IV stand.
“Figured I’d drop this by on my way out. You’re backlogged on your reports, been Sleeping Beauty for a week.”
“A week?!” That was way more than he expected.
Hawks smirks. “You aren’t sixteen anymore, kid. Or even twenty. Your body won’t always bounce back like it used to, especially considering everything you’ve already put it through. And I’m sure as hell not sixteen or twenty either, so get better quick and I can stop covering your shifts.”
Izuku balks, feels the color drain from his face. A whole week? How was the city, how were the crime rates?!
“I-I’ll go out now, don’t even worry—”
He moves to tear off the thin blanket but Shoto puts a hand on his ankle.
Izuku halts.
“Uh.” Ochaco scratches her cheek.
“‘Uh’?” Izuku repeats, looking between the four of them. No one wants to meet his gaze. “What’s ‘uh’?”
Hawks drops the folder onto the mini bedside table. It falls with a loud thwap.
“You’re not cleared yet. You’re going on a short leave until you get medical authorization.”
“Wait, what? Hold on, I can’t just—”
“You need to rest, Midoriya.” Iida insists, always the voice of reason. “You gave us a scare.”
Izuku waves his hands back and forth as if to magically wipe the words away.
“I did rest! For a week apparently. I’m rested! All I need is a warm up.”
Hawks taps Izuku’s nose. “You’re not. You’re like two injuries away from losing your health insurance coverage—which is already pretty damn high, number-one-hero. Do you wanna foot this hospital bill?”
Izuku swallows. The overhead lights buzz loudly and the monitors continue to beep. He gets what Hawks is saying, but how long is this “leave”?!
“I’ll—”
“You’ll rest.” Hawks cuts in, final. He drums over the file folder, snaps the rubber band that’s wrapping it together. “And you’ll have this done by the end of the week.”
Izuku deflates. No more room for argument, apparently. He doesn’t wanna cry, but man, but his throat stings.
“Sorry, Izuku.” Ochaco frowns. “It’s for the best, you know.”
It actually feels like it’s for the worst, but—
“Why’s everybody so fucking quiet? Jesus, you guys give me the creeps, he isn’t dead.”
Izuku snaps up, relief blooming in his chest. The encroaching tears subside when Kacchan stomps through the threshold. He’s carrying a pack of strawberry Pop-Tarts and a venti coffee.
“Kacchan.” Izuku says, almost a whisper.
Kacchan actually stops mid-stride, apparently caught off guard that Izuku is awake. His Vans squeak on the floor, his crimson eyes widen in surprise, his breath catches. It’s minuscule to Izuku’s friends, they probably don’t even notice. He looks so handsome in that singular moment of pause that Izuku gets butterflies.
Despite the recent bad news, Izuku smiles. “Hi.”
“‘Hi’?!” Kacchan’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead with familiar rage. He almost crushes the plastic coffee cup. “You’ve been out cold for a week and just say, ‘Hi’?! Not, ‘Sorry I’m an idiot, thanks for saving my fucking life, Bakugou’?! You’re insane!”
He did save Izuku’s life. He would’ve drowned down there, surely. It’s not a rare thing, in their line of work, or with the two of them, but Izuku feels warm anyway. And he’s glad Kacchan does look totally unharmed.
“Chill, hothead, you’ll blow up the emergency room.” Hawks crosses his arms. “But glad you’re also back, I need to talk to you, too.”
Kacchan glares. He can look menacing even in a black hoodie and track pants. “I already filled out all your dumbass paperwork. Kirishima submitted it two days ago once he did his section.”
“Did you guys apprehend the villains?” Izuku asks. “Was anyone else hurt?”
Hawks nods. “Yes, they’ve been captured. And everyone’s fine but you, problem-child.” He probably would’ve ruffled Izuku’s hair, if the back of his head wasn’t padded with bandages.
“No, this isn’t that.” Hawks continues. He points lazily at Kacchan. “You’re gonna hate this, but you’re benched too, Bakugou.”
“What?!”
The Pop-Tarts hit the floor and Kacchan’s practically steaming.
“Yikes.” Shoto deadpans.
“Shut up!” Kacchan gripes at him and then whirls on Hawks. “Why?! I was barely even scratched, I’m not the one who busted my head open!”
Hawks checks his phone, like he really doesn’t have time for this conversation or care that Bakugou is snapping at his throat. It’s blinking with several notifications.
“Look, you know the rules we have now. No partner, no patrol. And your usual partner is still recovering, so. Just for a little bit. Help him with his, that.” Hawks gestures vaguely to the folder.
Kacchan aggressively sets his coffee on a chair and Iida offers him the fallen Pop-Tarts. He snatches them.
“This is stupid—who’s your partner, flyboy, huh? Have you been working solo all week?!”
Why wasn’t Kacchan Hawks’ partner all week? Worry snaked through Izuku’s gut. Maybe he was hurt, after all, and they weren’t telling him? Why hadn’t Kacchan been in the field this whole time?
Hawks pockets his phone. “Tokoyami filled your slots with me. Relax, pretend it’s a vacation. I dunno. I gotta go. Stay with Midoriya and keep him from running into walls or something.—Actually, wait, yeah, keep an eye on him, that’s your duty until he’s cleared.”
“Excuse me?!”
Shoto chuckles. “Aw, how polite.”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut your trap?!”
Izuku breathes deeply, trying to quell his anxiety. He picks at the tape holding down his IV. Are they hiding something?
Hawks shrugs and saunters to the door. He pointedly steps around Kacchan, ignoring the temper tantrum.
“I really do have to go. Get well soon, Deku.” He throws them a two-finger salute and leaves.
Izuku eyes Kacchan, his twitching jaw and grumpy forehead. He’s tearing into the Pop-Tarts like a bear who found trash at a campsite.
“It’ll go by quick!” Ochaco pipes up, trying to lighten the mood. She sends him a beaming smile. “And we’ll hang out as much as we can!”
Iida’s phone rings then, going off almost in time with Shoto’s. Ah, they’re on call. Izuku is quickly losing opportunities to ask more questions. Would they even answer about Kacchan being hurt, if he’s still in the room?
“Yeah, let us know when you’re home tomorrow and we’ll plan to come by soon.” Shoto nods. “We have to go, too, but, glad you’re doing better.”
The two bid him goodbye with half-hugs, careful to avoid the medical stuff wired to him.
“I have work with Tsu in a few hours myself.” Ochaco explains. “I was worried you’d be bored, but, well, I guess you have work to do.” She smiles again, but it’s sort of a grimace.
“I’ll text you later tonight, okay?” She kisses his cheek and makes her way to the door.
Izuku’s eyes graze the room when he turns to see her off. He notices a black backpack on the table near the foot of his bed…And actually, a crossword puzzle book, a phone charger, a sweater, and a little pouch of toiletries?
“Ochaco, you forgot your stuff!” He calls. It’s weirdly a lot of stuff for a short visit, but maybe she’s between shifts.
She spins back around to investigate and then waves her hands in front of her.
“Oh, no,” She explains casually. “That’s Bakugou’s stuff, he’s been here with you all week!”
Izuku blinks.
Huh?
Kacchan chokes on his Pop-Tart.
********
“Oh, Kacchan, are you okay?!” Deku asks, like he’s not the one laying in a damn hospital bed. Katsuki slams a fist to his chest and knocks the crumbs loose.
“Fine, nerd.” He coughs.
“Bye, guys!” Uraraka slips out the door, like she didn’t just drop a fucking bomb. Deku didn’t need to know Katsuki had been at his bedside for seven fucking days.
So sue him for worrying.
“That’s…So you…You’re…,” He can hear Deku making mental calculations. It quickly disintegrates into unintelligible muttering.
“I’m fine, like I said. Quit doing that.” Katsuki wads the Pop-Tart wrapper and lobs it into the trash can. His coffee is lukewarm now, which he hates. He plops into the uncomfortable chair that his ass has become way too accustomed to. Thing’s hard as a rock and not in a good way.
“Like Hawks said, I’m supposed to watch you or whatever.”
Deku tilts his head like a puppy. “I thought he just assigned you that?”
“He—,” Fucking Christ, perceptive bitch, “He told me to here, and he just assigned me to do it after here, too. Fucking annoying.”
Katsuki puts his boot against the footboard and leans back against the wall. He sips his drink, looking away.
“Right.” Deku sighs. “Sorry about that.”
His voice draws Katsuki’s eyes back. Deku’s pitiful in the bed, wrapped up in shit and wearing that ugly hospital gown. He’s been unconscious for a week but looks tired somehow. His green hair is mussed up from the gauze, curling over itself in every which way.
It’s nice to see some color back in his face, though. He’s not so blue and lifeless.
Katsuki shakes off the dread of the memory and growls.
“You should be! Almost died again, stupid.”
Izuku takes a deep breath. Then a wry smile forms. “Right. What was it? ‘Sorry I’m an idiot, thanks for saving my fucking life, Bakugou.’”
Calling him something other than “Kacchan” is jarring and Katsuki almost chokes again. He almost throws the coffee at Deku’s head, but it would probably seep into the dumb wound.
“Smug, ungrateful asshole.” Katsuki rolls his eyes.
They’re quiet for a minute, and when he looks up, Deku is watching him. Katsuki swallows, forcing it down, for fuck’s sake. Now’s not the time, it’s never the goddamn time. There will never be a time. Even if Deku’s eyes are so, so green.
“Still sky-high on morphine?” He teases. “You’re like a space case.”
Deku laughs a little, and Katsuki begrudgingly aches at how much he missed it.
“I am grateful, Kacchan. Thanks for saving me...Like you always do.”
Katsuki’s hand twitches on the cup. He bites his tongue, holds it an extra second before something stupid bubbles out uncontrollably. Staring at these four walls for days, mostly alone with Deku, has made him weird, sort of sappy, undeniably weaker. Not physically, but metaphorically. Like, in the knees or something. He can’t imagine more of this. He has to be fucking careful. He draws a wobbly line in the sand and tells himself not to cross it.
“That’s right.” He digs into his pocket to pull out his phone for a distraction. He can feel Deku’s eyes on him, still, probably paired with a mushy, ridiculous smile. “Gonna start charging you for it.”