He’s lost track of time in the midst of the fight. Ten minutes could’ve gone by just as much as two hours because Bakugou was completely unable to know how long it’d been. His muscles are sore, the palms of his hands begging for a break as they tremble within the already half broken equipment of his suit but he’s glad for the distraction - if he had a minute to spare to think about anything else, his mind would straight up go into Deku and that’s not a distraction he needs right now. He doesn’t need to think about what the hell made him throw caution to the wind and decide that now was a good time to act on impulse and kiss him. He also doesn’t need to think and realize that it hadn’t all been impulse.
He can think about all of that later when he’s kicking Deku’s ass for breaking an ungodly amount of bones.
There are clear signs of when the battle against the villains is dying down; the seeming leader of the group they were fighting seems to get information that he isn’t all too pleased about and yells for retreat, which catches everyone off guard - including the villains themselves. As tired as everyone was, they take the opportunity to catch the retreating figures, leaving the last two in the distance to be chased by a couple of the pro-heroes closer to them.
The mess of half broken buildings and debris that surrounds him paired with the exhausted cheers from his classmates manages to lull Bakugou into a sense of security that he enjoys only momentarily, leaning against a wall and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath that only forces him to inhale smoke and dust, that he’s quick to cough out. And by the time Aizawa appears to check up on everyone and make sure they were all still standing, he expects to see him trailing behind, ready to be embraced by everyone’s praises and congratulations.
But he’s not there. And his stomach sinks with a foreign emotion that he can’t quite name.
He was taken to the hospital. Aizawa’s voice breaks through the deafening thunder in his ears. He was in rough shape but he’ll make it.
He made it. He actually made it, that idiot. There’s a semblance of a proud smile on his lips though Bakugou doesn’t allow for it to remain there for long. He had other things to do like just straight up ditch his hero gear with Denki with very clear instructions to take it back to the dorms and making his way to the hospital, paying no mind to the odd looks he gets from every single doctor and nurse. His bruises and scratches could be taken care of later, it was nothing deadly, but he’ll be damned if that’s what stops him from checking up on Deku.
And sure, maybe he’s had to offer a couple of punches to some nurses that seemed to refuse him access to the room that UA student was in (their utterly annoying words, not his) but he finally gets through and… God, the sharp pain in his chest when he sees him lying on the bed like that - no words are good enough to describe it.
For anyone that walked in just then, they wouldn’t see much. A hard-faced Bakugou leaning against the now closed door of the hospital room, seemingly devoid of emotion. But that was as far from reality as it could ever be; his mind runs a million miles an hour trying to process the fact that he was here. Wounded and probably sleeping until the next day, he figures, but he’s there. Alive.
Still, his legs seem to deny him the satisfaction of coming closer and see it for himself, feeling the life wafting from his still frame - he feels weak and blames it on the rush of adrenaline that is slowly but surely making him crash though in the back of his mind there’s a voice that calls him out, calls him an idiot because it’s not that but something akin to concern for him.
Get a grip. Once he finally manages to make his legs move, Bakugou is slow to approach the bed. His chest tightens at how small he looks. Powerless. Even without a quirk, he’d always looked so big and full of life and now - he doesn’t want to think about it. He refuses. So instead his hand lifts from his side and hovers above Deku’s for a few moments - he’s so tempted to touch him, to feel warmth seeping from his skin, a reassurance that he’s alive - but soon enough he gives up on second guessing every single thing he’s doing and finally does it. It’s brief, only enough for his palm to burn with the touch before his hand is by his side once more, a scoff escaping his mouth just as quickly. “Stupid Deku.”
He shakes his head before deciding to settle in for the night on the chair next to the bed. He pulls it closer to where he sleeps peacefully and finally sits down, laying his head on crossed arms just beside the hand he’d briefly touched. “Just wake up, you idiot. Don’t leave me hanging. My back’s going to hurt tomorrow and it’s going to be your fault.”
The deep ache in his bones is the first sensation Izuku registers when he stirs. His whole body feels heavier than it should, and exhaustion lingers even as he pushes his way into consciousness. There is a steady beeping sound echoing in the room and the smell of something sterile fills the air. Oh. He’s used to this, isn’t he? It just takes his muddled brain another minute to put together why.
He’s in the hospital. He’d been hurt again.
Did he lose a lot of blood? What had— right. He’d… been in a battle. All those Pros and third years working together to take down a big villain group. The crazy plan they’d come up with for him to sneak up and engage, dismantling everything from the inside by taking down the center of their operation, their secret weapon. He remembers… getting hit with some attacks there, but his injuries must have been more serious than he’d realized.
And there was… a kiss. Kacchan kissed him. Oh gosh, he hadn’t dreamed that part, had he?
Strengthened by the influx of emotions that came with the phantom sensation of Kacchan’s lips against his, Izuku blinks open his eyes. The room is fairly dark, so it must be late, and other than the sound of the equipment, it is silent. Izuku’s scan halts as he lands on an outline by his bed. Beside him, laying his head next to Izuku’s hand, is that…?
“K-Kacchan,” he breathes. His chest feels sore when he talks and his voice comes out all croaky, but it’s okay. That doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that he’s here and they’re together.
All the training Kacchan helped him with over the years has paid off. All those survival instincts he made sure were jammed into Izuku’s head taking control. And with that, Kacchan had trusted him to win that fight. And he did. He’s back. He’s alive. And he thinks this might be the most relieved he’s ever been to be so.
Kacchan’s asleep, or… he was, because it looks like the sound of Izuku’s voice caused him to stir a little. Heh, that’s Kacchan, alright. Always on high alert.
Yet, he manages to look so peaceful lying there, even with his new bruises. Izuku is tempted to reach out and caress them, if only he knew whether such a touch would be welcomed or rejected. He focuses instead on Kacchan’s soft hair, the expression on his face, the curves of his features. Gosh, he really is… so beautiful.
Izuku’s chest is warm simply watching him there. Kacchan, he… he really wants to be here. By his side, sticking close. Izuku knows Kacchan is constantly looking out for him, protecting him, whether he admits to it or not. He cares, he really cares, and Izuku cares too. He’d fought hard for this. Tooth and nail to make it back to Kacchan, specifically. For Kacchan. It always came back to him. And really, it’s more than just care Izuku feels, it’s— it’s—
His face burns red, and his hand flinches, pulling away from where it had been unintentionally hovering over Kacchan’s own, as if he were preparing to hold on tight. Yikes. Not now. He doesn’t need to do any of that now! Or be thinking too deeply about any of this! He almost died and he’s recovering. That’s— that’s the priority! He might not even be— be thinking straight and—
Oh gosh, Kacchan’s opening his eyes!
Izuku smiles at him, as wide and bright as he can manage in his relatively weak state, and he thinks he pulls it off without looking suspicious. He is so glad he’s there, after all. He doesn’t need to hide how much that means. When he speaks, he keeps his voice soft. “H-Hey, how are you? You’re not hurting at all, are you?”
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