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The Sundays at UA High were sacred.
A single, glorious day full of freedom for the twenty teenagers inhabiting the dorms, giving them the opportunity to rest, relax, and socialize to their hearts content. The blissfully long hours were spent sleeping in, playing video games, gossiping and chattering about- or with fellow classmates, and even the occasional board game.
However, this Sunday was different. It was the middle of May, so all of the plants were flourishing, the sound of birds chirping accompanying the buzz of bumblebees as they floated lazily in the breeze towards vibrant flowers dotting the grass. Tree branches were weighed down with ripe fruit, hanging just low enough for children and passersby to reach up and pluck a snack from above. It was one of the most beautiful times of the year, and no one wanted to miss it.
All-Might had (miraculously) convinced Principal Nezu to grant the students permission to head into town for the day, provided Aizawa supervised. Everyone was ecstatic, and friend groups spent the days leading up to the trip eagerly discussing how they wanted to spend their time. After all, Principal Nezu had let them go, but they were given a strict curfew of 8:00 PM.
“If anyone is late, you’ll all be forbidden from leaving school premises for an undetermined amount of time.” The principal had warned, and back at the dorms, Iida had proposed that they all meet by a small bakery around 7:40 PM, so they’d be early to the bus, and ride back to the dorms together, making it back by 7:55 PM. No one wanted to be the reason the class couldn’t go out anymore.
Saturday night, everyone retired to their dorms early to pack a small bag of whatever they wanted to bring into town. Whether it was money, a camera to take pictures, or an extra snack, the teens wanted to be able to grab their stuff and be off by 9:00 AM, so they could make the most of their time.
Sunday Morning, 8:15 AM
The cheerful beeping of Bakugou’s alarm sent daggers into his skull, causing him to growl out a curse. Despite his body’s protests, he lurched out of bed, nearly falling over, and stumbled to his dresser to slam a fist on the offending clock. It ceased its irritating squawking, leaving Bakugou alone with a headache that was threatening to break his skull in half. He squinted in the morning light, the sun beaming from outside his window hurting his eyes.
The world did not match his mood. Chirping birds, laughter trickling in from outside his dorm, and just the overall joy radiating from the atmosphere was suffocating him in a blanket of gooey, touchy-feely happiness.
It disgusted him. Why couldn’t the world match his misery?
His head fucking hurt. His body ached. He wanted to go back to sleep.
No. He was going back to sleep. With any luck, he could pass out and not have to deal with reality for a few hours. By the time he woke up, he’d probably feel better.
Hopefully.
As Bakugou trudged back to his bed, keen to put his plan into motion, a knock at his door made him pause. He groaned.
Who the fuck was knocking? It wasn’t even a school day.
The blonde sighed. “Coming.”
Might as well get this over with.
Bakugou yanked the door open, a scowl already etched on his face, ready to tell whoever was behind it to leave him the hell alone- but he stopped short at the sight of spiky red hair and a shark-toothed grin standing in front of him.
Kirishima gave a little wave. “Hey, Bakubro! I was wondering if you had a hoodie I could borrow? I…” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I accidentally destroyed the last one with my quirk. I’ll return it, I promise!”
He clasped his hands together in front of him, a pleading gesture as he looked at him with big red puppy dog eyes.
Bakugou couldn’t say no to that face, even if he wanted to.
“Fucking fine, you idiot. Come in, just pick one out.” He opened the door wider, allowing Kirishima to step inside. He shut the door behind the redhead, leading him over to his closet. He opened the closet to reveal a row of hoodies in varying colors, almost every color in the rainbow, actually. All except white and brown. (Technically, not in the rainbow, but yk.)
Kirishima gawked at them, impressed at the variety.
“Dude, this is so manly! You even have a Crimson Riot one!” He pulled one off the rack, holding it up to admire. “Awesome!”
Bakugou snorted. “I barely even wear that one, you might as well keep it if you like it.”
He blinked, a bit surprised he’d said that. He never gave shit away. Kirishima glanced at him, also seeming shocked.
“Really? I mean, if you’re offering! Thanks, man!” Then Kirishima looked closer at him, a look of concern flitting across his face.
“Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale. And why aren’t you dressed? We’re leaving soon.”
Bakugou was confused.
“The fuck? Leaving where?”
Kirishima laughed, which would have pissed Bakugou off, if he had any clue what his friend was talking about.
“The field trip? We get to spend all day at Mustafu?” At Bakugou’s continued look of bewilderment, Kirishima stopped laughing. “Come on, don’t tell me you forgot! We talked about it all day yesterday!”
That’s when it hit him. Shit. The field trip! He wasn’t even dressed!
Bakugou cursed so colorfully it almost made Kirishima cover his ears. And it didn’t do anything except aggravate his headache.
Bakugou winced and pressed his palm to his forehead, sitting back down on his bed, willing his headache to calm. Kirishima looked worried, but unsure of what to do. Hesitantly, he sat on the bed next to the blonde, ready to harden if Bakugou tried to blow him up.
But nothing happened. Bakugou simply drew his knees up to his chest with a groan, tucking his chin against his chest and burying his face in his knees.
Cautiously, Kirishima brought his hand up, and laid it on Bakugou’s back.
Bakugou didn’t move.
Kirishima felt like defying death today.
He slowly began to rub circles on his friends’ back, hoping to provide some sort of comfort. Bakugou shifted, and Kirishima had to fight not to jump away from him in fright, keeping his hand where it was. A spiky head turned to face Kirishima, and crimson eyes blinked up at matching ruby irises. Kirishima saw the faint haze of a coming sickness clouding his eyes, but he was going to have to approach the subject with a bit of caution.
“Bakubro, you don’t have to go if you don’t feel well. I mean, it sucks that you got sick-“
“I’m not sick.”
“Oookay… it sucks that you’re…um…feeling under the weather. If you need something in town, just text me and I’ll grab it for ya! I can tell Sensei you’re not gonna come.”
To Kirishima’s surprise, Bakugou didn’t argue. He simply nodded, and stayed in his balled up position until Kirishima said his goodbyes and left the room, Crimson Riot hoodie in hand. He did make Bakugou promise to call him if something happened, or he needed help.
He was almost certain Bakugou would rather die than ask for help, but it was worth a shot.
—————————————————————
As soon as Kirishima had closed the door, Bakugou had released himself from the tight ball he’d scrunched into and sprawled out on his bed, willing the jackhammer in his head to stop pounding at his temples.
It didn’t work.
From his position on the bed, Bakugou could see the bus idling by the entrance to the school, a cluster of his classmates gathered around it, talking and laughing.
The blonde watched as his friends boarded the bus, and it puttered down the street towards town. Once it faded from view, he closed his eyes. He might as well get some sleep.
———————————————————
A commotion outside of Bakugou’s room startled him awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His headache had dulled to a soft throb, but it was manageable. A crash came from outside, followed by the sound of cursing. Bakugou immediately went on the defensive, creeping to his door and peeking out into the hallway, one hand sparking with the beginnings of an explosion.
As soon as he spotted the bright yellow, sky-high mohawk, Bakugou let the sparks fizzle out. He stepped out into the hall, closing his door behind him. Present Mic glanced up from where he was crouched on the floor, hurriedly picking up shards of what looked to be a flower vase. Eri stood a few feet away, looking distressed, holding a slightly drooping rose in her small fingers.
“What the fuck’re you guys doing here?” Bakugou asked, drowsiness dulling the bite that would usually be present in his words. Present Mic sighed. “Hello, Bakugou. I got called into work for an extra patrol, and no one can watch Eri, since Shouta is out on the field trip. I was going to leave Eri in an empty dorm room, but she accidentally knocked over the vase, and now I’m gonna be late!” The usually smiling face of his professor was tightened into a stressed frown.
Before Bakugou could fully process what he was doing, his legs bent, and he was crouched next to the mess, sweeping the glass shards all into a pile with his hands. Not a great decision to touch glass with his bare hands, but his professor was doing it, so he would too. In addition to his body moving before his brain could fully process, his mouth decided to have a go as well.
“I can watch Eri. I’m not doing anything anyways.”
Present Mic looked surprised at his offer. Frankly, Bakugou was too. What was he doing? This was supposed to be his time to rest, to sleep without any of the extras banging his door down.
Well, too late now. Present Mic stood, hands cupped with most of the glass inside. “That would be a huge help. I won’t be too long, only a few hours. Eri won’t be any trouble, right Snowflake?”
Eri shook her head quickly, the rose still clutched to her chest. Bakugou grunted. “It’s whatever. I’ll fucking watch her.”
Present Mic needed no further confirmation. He pecked Eri on the top of the head, and was across the room in a blink, door already shutting behind him.
“Thank you so much! See you later, listeners!”
With that, he was gone.
Bakugou looked down at Eri, who’d crept over to him in the wake of her father’s exit.
“You hungry?”
Thirty minutes later, Eri was perched on the counter, watching in awe as Bakugou diced veggies, fried meat, and sprinkled spices over his various plates and pans spread out before him. “What’s that?”
Eri pointed to the pan of sizzling meat. Bakugou glanced at it, using a spatula to give it a quick stir, while his other hand sprinkled cheese on a finished tostada. “That’s carne asada meat. It’s a type of steak.”
Eri nodded, taking this in. “What about that?”
She pointed to a bowl filled with chopped onion, tomato, and a few leafy things she didn’t recognize. Bakugou set the finished tostada beside her on the counter, letting it cool. “That’s called pico de gallo.” He said it with a perfect Spanish accent. “It has tomato, onion, cilantro, lime juice, and pepper if you’re feeling spicy.” He winked at her, amused at his own joke. Eri giggled. Bakugou tapped the plate beside her. “This is called a tostada. It’s a Mexican dish. Sero gave me the recipe from his mom. Try it, I think you’ll like it.”
Hesitantly, Eri picked up the stiff tortilla, laden with meat, guacamole, cheese, and other toppings, ant took a small bite. She chewed, contemplating.
Bakugou was almost nervous to hear her response. What if she hated it? Then what was the little fucker supposed to eat? The ingredients he’d used to make the tostadas was all that was left in the pantry and fridge.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to figure that out.
Eri swallowed her mouthful, beaming up at Bakugou. “Wow, this is so good! You’re a great cook, Mr. Bakugou!”
Bakugou felt his heart melt a little.
Damnit, she’s fucking adorable!
The blonde turned away to control the grin spreading without permission across his face. He schooled his features into what he hoped was indifference, and swiveled around back to Eri. She wasn’t looking at him, too focused on snarfing down her tostada to notice that her puppy eyes melted him into a gooey mess of feelings and shit.
“Just Bakugou is fine.”
Eri looked up at him, confused.
“Huh?”
Bakugou was quick to clarify. “You don’t need to call me mister. Just- just Bakugou.”
Eri looked hesitant. “Daddy an’ Papa say I should always call a grown-up mister, or missus” She nodded sagely. “Good manners.”
Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, I’m not a grown-up, so you don’t have to.”
“You’re not? But- you’re so grumpy! Only old people are grumpy.”
Bakugou’s eyes twitched. He could feel his headache returning. “You know what, nevermind. Call me whatever you want.”
“Okay, Mr. Kacchan!”
“Wait, where did you learn that- DAMMIT, DEKU!”
— — — — — — — — — — — —
An hour or so later, Bakugou (Mr. Kacchan) and Eri are seated on the couch, watching Despicable Me with a bowl of popcorn sitting between them. Unfortunately, Bakugou’s headache had chosen this moment to resurface with a vengeance from where it had been simmering in the back of his skull, and it brought company. Full-body shivers wracked his frame, and he fought to still them, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm. Normally, Bakugou naturally ran hot, but right now he felt like he’d been dipped into an ice bath and left to sit out in the cold. The smell of popcorn wafting from beside him made the blonde nauseous, stomach roiling as he fought to keep his dinner in. Eri glanced over at him, and Bakugou sat up straighter, an attempt to appear normal.
“Mr. Kacchan, are you sick?”
Bakugou scowled. “Don’t call me- what?”
No. He couldn’t be sick. He didn’t get sick.
But… he had been feeling off lately. He’d just chalked it up to not eating enough, and training too much, and not getting enough sleep. Actually, those things were probably the reason. Add the recent stomach flu outbreak to the mix, and Bakugou realized, at that moment, that he’d created a recipe for disaster.
Dammit. He probably was sick. But he had to keep watching Eri. Bakugou gave the little girl a pat on the head. “I’m fine, squirt. You want something to drink?” He asked, standing to get something for himself in the kitchen.
Eri nodded. “Milk, please!” She called as Bakugou made his way over to the fridge. He opened the door, the cold air making his shivers more pronounced. As he squinted, scanning the shelves for milk, he spotted a small apple sitting in one of the drawers. Maybe it could help settle his stomach? He grabbed it, along with two cartons of milk, one labelled ‘Unsweetened Vanilla Macadamia Nut Milk’ and ‘Vitamin D Fortified Organic Reduced Fat Milk’.
Bakugou had no idea why the milk had such complicated names. Why couldn’t it just say ‘Cow Milk’? What was this random horseshit? Nut milk? Come on, who bought this?
Bakugou grabbed two glasses, filling one with the nut milk and the other with the reduced fat milk. He brought both to Eri, his apple tucked into the crook of his arm. He presented both cups to Eri. She looked at them, confused. Before she could ask, Bakugou spoke.
“They had two types of milk, so I just grabbed you both.”
Eri paused. “Which one is the normal one?”
“I have no fucking clue.”
“O-oh. Okay, thanks Mr. Kacchan!”
Eri took the cups from him carefully, sipping from both and contemplating which one she liked best. Ultimately, she went with the Vitamin-whatever-reduced-something-straight-from-a-cows ass-milk, and he took the other glass back to the kitchen to dump it out.
A sudden wave of dizziness hit him, and Bakugou stumbled, catching himself on the counter. The apple tumbled out from where he’d still had it balanced on his forearm, rolling across the floor. Bakugou swayed, seeing double.
The word was spinning, too fast for his mind to keep up. The nausea reared its ugly head, and Bakugou’s throat began to close up.
“Ugh…shit.”
Bakugou moaned, sliding down to the floor, setting the milk on the edge of the counter, his vision blurring in and out of focus.
Unfortunately, he’d placed his cup half on the smooth marble surface, with the other half teetering dangerously on the edge.
Bakugou let his head fall back against the cabinets with a dull thump, panting with the effort of keeping his stomach under control.
CRASH.
The milk glass shattered as soon as it hit the floor, milk and shards of the cup spraying everywhere. Most of the milk ended up on Bakugou, soaking through his pants and part of his shirt. The glass scattered all over the floor, luckily not cutting the blonde.
“Damn it!” Bakugou cursed, sitting up- only to immediately regret it as his stomach heaved. He gagged, clamping a hand over his mouth, the other curled around his stomach. He brought his legs up tightly to his chest, willing his gut to calm.
The pattering of footsteps had Bakugou turning his head briefly to see Eri peeking out from behind the cabinets, regarding the scene with wide eyes.
“D-don’t come over here. Th-theres glass a-all over th’ floor…”
Bakugou shoved the stuttering words out words out before his stomach heaved, and then he was on his hands and knees, vomiting up half-digested food. His arms shook with the effort of holding himself up. Distantly, he heard Eri gasp, and saw her hesitantly step towards the mess. Bakugou held a trembling hand out to stop her. She did, and then ran out of the room.
Good. He thought. Now she doesn’t have to see all of this shit.
A moment later, he heard more footsteps. But these sounded different. Still small, but a bit more defined. Eri was back in the doorway, but with small pink sneakers on, dusted with glitter. A bright pink scrunchie was fisted in one of her small hands, the other holding a roll of paper towels. She carefully stepped over the glass, ripping paper towels off of the roll and laying them over the milk spills along the way. Once she reached Bakugou, who was still puking, she set the paper towels down and moved to stand behind him. On her tiptoes, she carefully gathered his hair up in her hands and tied it back, so his spiky hair didn’t go near his mouth. Once she finished, she put a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles while Bakugou retched, tears dripping and mixing with the foul-smelling vomit on the floor. His stomach began to cramp, and his breath choked, his throat burning. It was getting harder to breath, with no break for Bakugou to try to rest. He let out a pathetic whimper, his arms giving out. Eri yelped, grabbing his shirt to try to haul him back, but he was too heavy. He tipped forwards, landing in the vomit.
Bakugou tried to push himself back up, but his arms gave out, and he was back in his vomit, the smell making him gag again. Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou watched Eri bolt out of the room again, returning a moment later with his phone clutched in his hand. He saw her crouching beside him, asking for his password. Weakly, he rasped out the numbers before he was puking again, his stomach refusing to let up until nothing was left inside. Eri’s voice reached him, and he tried to focus on it, instead of his guts emptying all over the wooden floor of the kitchen.
“Mr. Kirishima…vomiting a lot…no, he isn’t… okay, please hurry!”
Eri ended the call, before crouching back down to Bakugou’s eye level, her nose wrinkling a bit at the stench of the vomit in front of her.
“Don’t worry Mr. Kacchan, Mr. Kirishima and Mr. Deku are coming back. I think other people are coming too, but their names are really long and I don’t remember. They said I should keep you awake.”
Bakugou panted, still in a puddle of his own sick. The vomiting had stopped, thank the sun. Gingerly, the blonde sat up and sat back against the cabinet, trembling. Eri patted part of his knee, one of the only appendages not covered in milk or puke. She started to babble, about everything from the weather to her favorite singer. Bakugou listened, his eyes glazed with exhaustion, but fighting to stay awake. The blonde’s gut was still roiling, and occasionally his stomach would spasm, and he would gag, leaning over to spit out a glob of acid. He didn’t even hear the door open, and only registered that someone was in the room when a blur of red entered his line of sight.
Kirishima.
Bakugou let out a reedy whine at the sight of his best friend, trying to reach for him, and his stomach cramped, protesting any movement. He sat back, tears leaking out of his eyes. He could barely even move. His whole body ached, and he felt uncomfortably wet, his shirt clinging to him, the vomit making him want to crawl out of his skin.
“Oh, Kats…” Kirishima murmured, reaching out to smooth a lock of spiky hair back that had fallen out of Eri’s makeshift ponytail. Bakugou sniffled, a pathetic noise that had him internally cringing. Deku appeared in his line of sight, a worried frown on his usually-smiling face.
“I can take Eri. Do you want to take Kacchan to his room and… clean him up a bit?”
Kirishima nodded, and bent to gather Katsuki in his arms, looping an arm under his knees and letting his face fall against the redhead's chest. Bakugou groaned, the jostling hurting his head.
How had he gotten so sick so quickly? His body must have given out all at once.
This is so fucking embarassing.
Kirishima carried him up the stairs, opting out of taking the elevator to their floor. He reached Bakugou’s door- which he’d left unlocked, that’s how out of it he really was- and walked to his bathroom. Carefully, the redhead set Bakugou on the toilet seat, before crouching down in front of the boy, hands on his knees.
“Hey, Katsuki. We need to clean you up a little bit. Is it okay if I help you take off your clothes, and wash you up? I promise I’ll be quick.”
Bakugou’s pride bucked at the thought of Kirishima cleaning him- how was he so weak he couldn’t even shower right?- but he was too drained to argue. He nodded, staring at the floor.
“Are you sure? We can wait a bit, or I can get Midoriya to do it instead. No pressure.”
Kirishima smiled up at him. Bakugou met his gaze, before touching a hand that wasn’t crusted with puke to the one Kirishima had resting on his kneecap.
“You can. I trust you.”
The blonde’s voice came out cracked and hoarse, but the sentence meant the world to Kirishima.
Bakugou trusted him.
Kirishima got to work, lifting Bakugou’s arms above his head and carefully removing his shirt. Kirishima paused for a moment before removing his new Crimson Riot sweater, setting it outside of the bathroom before shutting the door. He didn’t want to get it dirty. Somehow, vomit hadn’t stained the red fabric, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Kirishima pulled Bakugou to standing, carefully pulling off his sweats and boxers before helping the blonde step out of them. He removed the scrunchie from Bakugou’s hair, the spikes falling around the blonde's pale face in a messy halo. Kirishima turned on the bathtub faucet, plugging the drain at the bottom to fill the bath with warm water. He grabbed a washcloth, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash from the cabinet under Bakugou’s sink, setting them along the edge of the tub. Once the bath was steaming, Kirishima helped Bakugou in, letting the blonde sink into the silky water and rest his head on the edge.
Gently, Kirishima lifted Bakugou’s hand, and after squirting some soap onto the washcloth, be began to clean the other boys’ arm, rubbing up and down in a slow circular motion. Bakugou closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. Kirishima continued this, rubbing away the crusted vomit, and draining the tub a few times so Bakugou didn’t sit in a bath of his own filth. Occasionally, Kirishima would gently ask the blonde to turn, or move a bit, but he let Bakugou rest for the most part. The only trouble came with Kirishima washing Bakugou’s hair. The poor boy had fallen asleep, exhausted. Kirishima had been rinsing his hair, the conditioner making his hair soft and smooth under the water spray. Kirishima had turned on the shower setting, so the bath was drained, and the redhead used the handheld shower nozzle. Unfortunately, because Bakugou was asleep, he wasn’t holding himself up. The blond tipped over after Kirishima let him go for a moment to adjust the temperature of the water, and the boy had to lunge to keep his friend from smacking his head on the floor. Bakugou jolted awake, but relaxed once he saw Kirishima.
“You okay?” Kirishima asked quietly.
Bakugou nodded, looking down at his now-clean body. He shifted a bit, covering himself with his hands, feeling oddly self-conscious.
“Can… can you go out while I change? Please?” Bakugou asked softly. Kirishima nodded quickly, then laughed a bit.
“Of course. But I get a please now? Who are you ans what have you done with my best friend?”
Bakugou tried to scowl, but the corner of his lips tugged upwards in the beginnings of a smile.
“Shut up, Shitty hair.” He huffed, looking away as a blush tinted his cheeks. Kirishima stood, giving the blonde his desired privacy.
“I left clothes for you on the sink. The towel is hanging on the bathroom door. Yell if you need me!” Kirishima called as he shut the bathroom door behind him.
Bakugou was alone.
Carefully, the blonde hauled himself out of the tub, water dripping down his body. He walked on shaking legs to his towel, pulling it off of the hook and draping it around him. He rubbed himself dry, reveling in the way his skin felt clean and soft. He glanced towards the pile of clothes. He tugged on the boxers, then sweatpants, and pulled the hoodie over his head. Once he was finished, he opened the door. Kirishima was sitting on the edge of his bed, texting someone as Bakugou walked towards him. He looked up when the blonde stopped in front of him, turning the screen off and setting it on Bakugou’s nightstand nest to his bed.
“Hey. The squad was wondering if you wanted anything in town. Soup, crackers, maybe an energy drink? They wanted to come back with us, but Aizawa didn’t want a bunch of people in the dorms unsupervised.” Kirishima said, moving to sit in Bakugou’s desk chair, letting the other boy crawl into bed.
Bakugou hummed, squirming to get under the covers, glancing at Kirishima’s phone. “I don’t think I can keep anything down. Pretty sure I caught a fuckin’ bug from one of the idiots.” He looked at Kirishima. “How’d you get ‘Zawa to let you come, anyways?”
Kirishima grimaced at the memory. “Lots and lots of begging. The phone call from Eri helped, though. Showed him that something was seriously wrong, and not just us trying to sneak off. Not that we would,” Kirishima hurried to add, “But that's why he didn’t let anyone else go. Don’t want to risk anything, right?”
Bakugou nodded sleepily. His eyes were beginning to drift closed. Kirishima placed a trashcan next to the bed, just in case. The redhead settled into his chair, and was beginning to drift himself, when he heard the sound of the door opening. He looked up to see Midoriya and Eri standing in the doorway, peering at Bakugou with worried eyes. Eri had a tight grip on Midoriya’s hand, and tugged him forward as she pattered over to where Bakugou lay. She put a small hand on his shoulder, and his eyes opened, crimson irises peeking out from under his lashes. He grinned weakly. “What’s up, squirt.”
Eri didn’t smile at the nickname. “Are you better now?” She asked quietly. Bakugou huffed a laugh, which morphed into a hacking cough. He covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow, sitting up and turning away from her as he wheezed. Midoriya quickly left the room, letting go of Eri’s hand, calling over his shoulder that he was going to get some water for Kacchan.
Kirishima stood, walking to the edge of the bed to crouch beside the little girl, resting one of his calloused hands on her shoulders.
“Bakugou’s a little sick right now. He needs lots of rest, but he’ll be good as new in a few days.”
He kept his voice light, trying to ease the little frown on the girls face. It worked, if only a little. Eri looked back at Bakugou, studying him.
“Papa says that people feel better when they get a hug. Can I give you a hug, Mr. Kacchan?” She asked, rather bravely. Kirishima almost expected Bakugou to refuse, to yell that he felt fine, that he didn’t need any of their help.
But he didn’t.
Probably because his mind was addled with exhaustion.
Instead, he shifted, moving back a bit to make room for Eri. She didn’t need further prompting. She leapt onto the bed, wrapping her arms around Bakugou’s neck and burying her face into his shoulder. Bakugou felt Kirishima’s eyes on him, and was oddly self-conscious.
“I was really scared when you got sick, Mr. Kacchan.”
Eri’s soft voice filled the silence that had grown in the room. Bakugou felt a stab of guilt go through him. He really wished Eri hadn’t been there to see his vomiting episode. His stomach felt tamer now, if a bit sore.
“I’m sorry. I won’t scare you like that again. You were very brave.”
What the hell was happening to him?!
He was spewing straight sappy nonsense.
Kirishima must have thought so too, because he leaned forwards and rested a palm on the blonde’s forehead.
“I think you have a fever.” Kirishima said, sitting back on his heels.
Bakugou groaned. “Of course I do.”
He hesitated, then asked,
“Can you ask someone to pick up medicine? I feel like shit.”
Kirishima grinned. “Already done. Mina says she’s grabbing some from the pharmacy right now.”
Bakugou grunted in acknowledgement. The steady warmth of Eri against him was once again lulling him to sleep.
Soon, he was asleep, snoring softly, one arm wrapped around Eri.
Kirishima quietly snapped a pic of them, and sent it to his groupchat, currently titled “Certified Menaces” (The name is changed at least once a day. Kirishima is pretty sure Kaminari came up with the current one.)
Red Boi: Photo sent
Pinkie Pie: OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH SAVED SEND MOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEREEEEE
Off-Brand Spider-Man: Dude you’re so dead when he wakes up
Red Boi: Let me have my moment
Pikachu: You’d better start running remember when Mina snapped that pic of him asleep on your lap
Pinkie Pie: I still have nightmares about that night
Red Boi: MINA I THOUGHT YOU DELETED THOSE
Pinkie Pie: Nooooo I need them for your wedding so I can say I called it from the beginning
Red Boi: Bold of you to assume you’re invited
Pikachu: Le gasp
Off-Brand Spider-Man: Fight fight fight fight
Aux Master: We’re all sitting next to each other why are we texting
Pikachu: Just saying our goodbyes to Kirishima before Bakugou incinerates him
Aux Master: Nah Bakugou wouldn’t kill his future husband
Pinkie Pie: YESSS JIROU HOP ON THE SHIP TRAIN WITH MEEEEEEEE
Off-Brand Spider-Man: Speaking of, is Bakugou doing better? What happened? You left pretty quick, so we didn’t get to ask
Pinkie Pie: Btw I grabbed the medicine, and some soup in case Bakubabe gets hungry
Red Boi: Thanks Mina!
I think he caught a stomach bug, he was throwing up a lot when I came. I had to help him get cleaned up. He has a fever, but I think he’ll be okay.
Pikachu: Help him get cleaned up???????
Red Boi: Oh gosh look at the time I gotta go
Pinkie Pie: EIJIROU KIRISHIMA DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME ON THAT CLIFFHANGER
Aux Master: Who needs fanfiction when I have real life yaoi right in front of me
Red Boi: LEAVING NOW
Pinkie Pie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO KIRISHIMAAAAAAA GET BACK HEREEEEEE
Kirishima shut his phone off, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.
Bakugou was going to KILL him when he saw the messages. He might as well enjoy his last few hours of life.
Kirishima must have drifted off to sleep, because he jolted, opening his eyes to see Midoriya standing in front of him, holding a water cup out to him. Bakugou saw another glass next to a still-sleeping Bakugou on the nightstand, Eri curled on his chest.
“I cleaned up downstairs. I think the others are almost back, Shoto’s been texting me with updates.”
Kirishima nodded, glancing at the sleeping form of his friend. “Thanks for your help Midoriya. You’re a good friend.”
Midoriya blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It was no trouble! Besides, you did most of the work. I can see why Kacchan loves you.”
Kirishima startled, and Midoriya clapped a hand over his mouth, mortified.
“I-I mean, why he likes you! Yes yes, like like like no love- not that he doesn’t, but- oh god, forget I said anything!” Midoriya stumbled over his words, voice raising as he tried to correct his slip-up.
A groan from the bed had them both turning.
Bakugou blinked at them blearily, red eyes hazy with sleep.
“Y’re bein’ too loud.” He mumbled, shifting a bit to adjust Eri, who just hummed and burrowed closer to him.
“Sorry!” the redhead and greenette whispered quickly. Bakugou just grunted and closed his eyes again. Midoriya made a break for the door.
“I’ll just go wait for the others outside-”
“Wait, Midoriya!”
But the boy was already gone, footsteps retreating down the hall.
Kirishima sighed.
“Eijirou.”
Bakugou’s voice made him turn to stare at the other boy.
“Come here.”
“W-why?” Kirishima stuttered, confused.
“Shut up and get over here.”
Kirishima obeyed, crossing the room to stand at the edge of the bed, looking down at the boy.
“Sleep with me.”
Wait, what?!
“B-bakugou, you can’t be serious-”
“Not like that, you perv. Just- just get in here.” The blonde grumbled, tugging Kirishima closer.
The redhead hesitantly crawled onto the bed, sliding under the covers.
Almost immediately, Bakugou latched onto his torso, causing a gasp to escape Kirishima’s lips.
Bakugou was nuzzling into his neck, his spiky hair tickling Kirishima’s nose.
“Katsuki… what are you doing?”
Kirishima fought to keep the shake out of his voice.
“Thank you. For helping me.” Bakugou said quietly, looking up to meet Kirishima’s eyes.
“You’d do the same for me.”
“Still. You didn’t have to.” Katsuki murmured.
Kirishima chuckled. “I wanted to, you goof.”
Katsuki snorted. “You’re crazy.
“Yeah, but you still love me.”
Katsuki stiffened, and Kirishima worried he’d pushed too far.
Damn it. I shouldn’t have said that. It just slipped out.
But a moment later, Katsuki relaxed.
“Yeah. I do.”
Kirishima blinked.
Then blinked again.
“You… what?”
Bakugou raised his eyebrows. “I love you?”
Kirishima’s brain stopped working.
“You- really?”
Bakugou looked at him like he’d grown two heads.
“Eijirou. We have sleepovers, all the time. We’re almost always touching, even if it’s just us holding hands. Most nights I go to sleep beside you, and wake up next to you. We’ve cuddled before. I- I’ve loved you for a long time. I’ve tried to show it, more than say it, I guess. I’m not good with words.”
Bakugou ducked his head, uncharacteristically bashful. “I… was going-”
Katsuki’s next words are muffled by the press of Eijirou’s lips on his.
The kiss is warm, soft. Searching and gentle.
It’s unlike anything Katsuki has ever felt.
Kirishima pulls away, much to the blonde's chagrin, and grins at the other boy.
“I love you too.”
Katsuki almost stops breathing. Its only when Eri shifts on top of him that he remembers that he needs oxygen… and that they should save the kissing for when the little girl was out of the room.
Kirishima shifted closer to Bakugou, and wrapped his arms around the boy.
“We can talk more about this tomorrow, when you feel better.”
Katsuki nodded blearily, burrowing closer to the boy he loved. Kirishima rested his chin on Katsuki’s head, hugging the other boy close.
Bakugou hadn’t felt safer.
Midoriya nudged the door open with a slow creak, trying to be as quiet as possible.
The scene in front of him nearly made him squeal.
Kirishima and Bakugou were wrapped around each other, Eri partially cocooned between them, hugging Bakugou’s chest. She was in a tight ball, arms smushed against her own chest, knees brought up to her chin.
Midoriya whipped out his phone. I'm sending this to Mina.
Eri shifted, kneeing Bakugou’s stomach, which made the blonde wince, face twisting in pain. He curled into himself unconsciously, trying to protect the sore spot.
His stomach was probably still sensitive, and sore. There had been…a large mess to clean up. Kacchan owed him big time, but Midoriya wouldn’t hold him to it.
He tiptoed over to the bed, then grasped Eri under her shoulders and lifted her up into his arms. She whined, cracking her eyes open a bit before closing them once Midoriya wrapped her up in a blanket he picked up from the floor.
As soon as she was gone, Kacchan instinctively moved towards Kirishima, searching for the missing warmth. Kirishima, still out cold, wrapped his arms tighter around the boy.
Kaminari’s socked feet padded along the floor, creeping towards Bakugou’s room. Mina, Sero, and Jirou followed close behind him, but letting him take the lead- and the brunt of Bakugou’s attack if he caught them lurking. Kirishima hadn’t responded to their messages for the past few hours, and Kaminari couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. The group stopped in front of Bakugou’s door, staring at it like it might bite them if they tried to open it.
“Well, it was nice knowing you guys!” Kaminari whispered cheerfully as he pushed the door open. The group braced for yelling and bombs- but it was quiet.
Four heads poked into the room to see Kirishima and Bakugou curled around each other, asleep.
Mina whipped out her phone and snapped at least twenty photos, moving around to get different angles.
“Mina!” Sero hissed when she leaned over the duo, taking a final pic.
It was then that Bakugou’s eyes opened, fixing on Mina’s with a murderous gleam.
The blonde’s hand shot out and grabbed Mina’s arm with surprising speed. Bakugou yanked himself upwards, face twisted in a snarl. He glanced behind her, and spotted the rest of his friends watching this unfold.
“YOU FUCKERS!” He roared, trying to grab Mina’s phone. She yanked her arm out of his grip and danced away, cackling. Bakugou tried to get out of bed, but suddenly Kirishima was there, holding him down and yelling ‘RUN!!’ to the rest of his friends.
“We’ll remember your sacrifice Kirishima!” Kaminari yelled as he bolted out of the room.
“Feel better Bakugou!” Jirou called, before she shut the door behind the group. The sound of laughter trailed after them as they scampered down the hall.
Bakugou flopped back down onto his bed, growling under his breath. A pale hand came up to rest on his stomach, exposed from where his sweatshirt had ridden up. He let out a low groan.
“My fucking stomach hurts.”
Katsuki’s voice sounded strained, noticeably missing its usual bite. Kirishima quickly dropped the playful act, his hands relinquishing their hold on Bakugou’s arms.
“What can I do? How can I help?” Kirishima asked, almost desperate. Bakugou grunted.
“I don’t know. It’s just sore.”
Kirishima hesitated. “Can…can I try something?”
Katsuki shrugged. “I guess.”
Carefully, Kirishima placed his palms over Katsuki’s stomach. He began to work his thumbs into the skin, feeling the taut muscles there, held tight by tension. He pressed his thumb into one of the spots, dispelling the tension. Bakugou let out a heavy breath.
“Keep doing that.”
Kirishima obliged, massaging Bakugou’s stomach, being careful not to press too hard.
Bakugou was limp, eyes closed as Kirishima dispelled the ache in his gut. When he was done, Kirishima simply started to run his fingers up and down the blonde’s arms, seeing how much Bakugou would let himself be held. He hadn’t attacked yet, so Kirishima decided to test his luck. He ruffled the blonde’s hair, which was always off-limits. Katsuki didn’t react, just leaned into the touch.
“They were worried about you, ya know.”
Kirishima offered the words as a way of breaking the silence. They, being the rest of the Bakusquad.
Bakugou grunted. “I’ll kill them.”
“You’re so cute when you’re mad~” Kirishima cooed, pecking Bakugou on the forehead.
The blonde flushed a deep red, burying his face in his pillow.
“You’re such an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”
Kirishima ended the last word with a kiss to Katsuki’s lips.
“You shouldn’t be kissing me. You could get sick.” Katsuki grumbled, but he pulled Kirishima towards him when the redhead paused.
“You don’t sound very convincing,” Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou mumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said you’re a good kisser.”
Kirishima grinned. “Speak up? I can’t really-”
He barely had time to harden before a small explosion almost lit his hair on fire.
“Hey!! No more kisses for you, you-” He struggled to find an insulting word- “You angsty chihuahua!”
Katsuki’s mouth dropped open.
“Angsty chihuahua?!”
The blonde shoved at Kirishima’s chest, but it was weak. Kirishima laughed softly.
“Save the punches for when you aren’t sick.”
Katsuki sulked.
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, Kats.”