[As soon as the knee lifts, Bakugou realizes he's in trouble, they're both in trouble. His thighs part, wordlessly turning him into a real slut, and then they close tightly back over Midoriya's leg.
The whole of his face bunches, like he wants to be angry, like he's about to be angry, but the held breath ruggedly shakes out of him when he releases it, and the expression fades quickly into something resigned, flushed, pleased. When he bites his bottom lip, it nearly bleeds.
Once he returns the grind, he freezes, leaning heavily into Midoriya's body. His head ducks down without tossing the hand off, and he presses his forehead into Midoriya's shoulder, frustrated. Then he presses it into Midoriya's neck at the collar of the shirt, breathes a:] Fuck. [like he knows this is a bad idea and wants not to care. He's quiet for so long, heavy on Midoriya's chest, breathless, half hard, smelling sickeningly sweet.]
I want to wreck you. I want to destroy you. I want you... so fucking badly.
[What he doesn't notice is the smoke. The fog? Iridescent like the soap and oil in bubbles, but thicker. It spills low on the floor, heavy, out from the event room and into the mouth of the hallway. The tendrils of it stretch slowly out, pushed along by the rest that just keeps coming. In the distance edge of the room, along the boundaries of where everyone is gathered: more smoke, the sudden lack of much sound, the scrape of chairs.]
[ Midoriya knows he's got him the moment that happens. His lips twist into a pleased little smile and he tugs playfully at his hair lightly this time, smoothing his fingers down the nape of his neck gently a moment later. He loves looking at Bakugou like this, flushed and wanting and all worked up because of him. It's different from the thrill that he gets when they're fighting, sparring against each other but it's still delicious. ]
I want you to. It was all I could think about when you were dressing up, you look so good and I - I. Uh.
[ He's been sort of keeping an eye on the door just in case they have to act like this is just a really enthusiastic hug, but there's smoke starting to lick out from underneath the door, almost iridescent when the lighting hits it. He's entirely distracted from Bakugou in a heartbeat, staring at it and then he pushes at him. ]
There's smoke. Kacchan.
[ They're both flushed and a little messy but Midoriya doesn't care because he doesn't know what that is but it can't be good. ]
...I'm gonna lose the bet, aren't I.
[ They're absolutely about to get messy and his nice suit is going to be ruined. One more kiss, and then Midoriya slides off his jacket, giving Bakugou a lopsided smile. ]
[Bakugou's heart leaps into his throat the moment he twists back to glance behind him. Smoke. There's no roaring of flames, and it's not floating at the ceiling--it's on the ground.]
What the fuck? Don't breathe it. [He's stunned by the kiss not because he gets it but because of the smoke, the fear. He shields Midoriya when he turns around. Fuck.] Out the damn window, we'll go around.
[On the way, Bakugou wants to know why the hell anyone in their right mind would attack a gala housing this many heroes. A bold move, but a stupid one it felt like? This many registered do-gooders who could kick your ass, and some moron... No. The League. It's gotta be the damn League.
Getting back in elsewhere gives them the element of surprise, though also offers them an equal amount. They're not wrong: it's the League, a few of them. The smoke isn't exactly like the smoke from the camp, but similar enough. The floor and tables are littered with unconscious people--their classmates. He's a lawful jock, hot-headed, wants to rush in, and it takes Midoriya's incessant reassurance for him not to do it.
Working together is something Bakugou's grown more use to over the years. Instead of trying to relegate himself to the front, the best, he's willing to focus on the victory of helping others. But he's still powerful, and he knows his quirk isn't made for saving so much as destroying. The building doesn't stand up against his rallying. The building doesn't stand up against villains willing to use friends and allies as leverage.
For once, there's something more important than winning.
Katsuki Bakugou gives up his assault when Midoriya crumples beneath the broken rubble of the building. It's about Izuku, but more than that. It's about Deku. It's about One for All. It's about All Might handing down one of the most prized gift, and Bakugou refuses to just let Midoriya go down, be smeared into a stain like the man isn't going to become Number One.]
DEKU! [The slab of cement rolls away, and he trips when he tries to slide into the opening, curses as the skin is stripped away along his leg, his pants doing with it. There's hardly anything left of his shirt, his tank top. Dust and blood cover his face and his shoulders and arms, but he reaches down to hook his hand carefully below Midoriya's neck, thumb smoothing the cheek in front of the ear.
The touch is too light, like he thinks Midoriya is dead, like the neck will just twist in his hand and show it's snapped.] Deku, you fucking bastard, open your damn eyes! [Please.] Izuku! [Stone shifts.
He barely gets to glance over his shoulder when another cement slab is lobbed down on top of them. It snaps against the hole, but covers it, hit him solid in the back and knocks the wind out of him. He slips further into the alcove and lands on top of Midoriya with a strangled wheeze and then a fit of coughing.
Killed him, he thinks. He finished the job, not unlike All Might. The new Symbol of Peace and Hope is destroyed by him again, and he growls hoarsely and airily in the dim confines of the collapse.]
[ Being a hero means going into dangerous situations. It means acting first and thinking later, doing his best to save as many people as he can, when and however he can. It means having the power to protect his friends and if he can't do that, what's the point? They'll be fine, though. They still have so much that they need to do and there are countless heroes here. While Midoriya can recognize it's the perfect place to attack if they're trying to take all of the heroes out and while from a strategy standpoint it's sound, he hates it.
For a while there's nothing but chaos. Half of the other heroes are out of commission if not all of them and for a while there's nothing but the pounding of his heart and the crackle of One for All mixed with Bakugou's explosions. Sweat drips into his eyes and he swipes a dirty hand against it, smearing dust and grit across his skin but keeping the sweat out of the way as much as possible.
Bakugou takes a hit Midoriya should have seen coming and he chokes out a mangled version of Kacchan! and then the building is collapsing. There's nothing he can do besides try and punch the debris out of the way and save as many people as he can with what he's got but even that isn't working. Bakugou's nice suit is going to be ruined he thinks fuzzily, one minute fighting and the next an impact hits him hard enough it takes him a few moments to pull himself back together. He comes to with Bakugou over him, coughing viciously and when he tries to lift his arm to reach out to him it doesn't feel like it's working. He raises his left instead and fits a hand around the muscle of Bakugou's forearm. His mouth is dry, dust in his eyes and sprinkled in Bakugou's hair along with smears of what he's pretty sure are blood on the other man. ]
Kacchan, are you okay?
[ He's clearly not. Neither of them are, but they're heroes and they have to do something. Slowly, he creeps his hand up through the mangled material of his jacket and Bakugou's arm, gripping it. His smile is trembling but he puts as much certainty into it as he can, adrenaline thrumming through him. They can't see covered like this, so he tries to focus as much of his quirk into him as he can, flickering lightning lighting Bakugou up in shades of soft, sickly green. Please be okay, Midoriya thinks toward anyone listening, and feels the building rumble around them. Some of the villains are down and other heroes are up, they have to be, which means they just need to get out of here. ]
[Worst than the shoot of fear he had at the beginning of all this is the drop of relief he gets when he hears Midoriya's voice by his head. Fuck. A ragged, strained cry--it's a cry, almost like a yell but he can't--busts out of him.
He sags on Midoriya, one hand clutching at the edges of cement and the other still looped around Midoriya's neck. His forehead rests on the other's shoulder, and he tries to steady his breathing with the slowly limiting oxygen.
One for All--the strangest sensation still when it ghosts over him, something he remembers from how it reached out to tickle him when Midoriya fought him in the street and came so close to hammering him with a leg. He groans softly from it; the sound is exhausted, pained.
Something warm is pooling at his hip, something that makes the scraps of shirt and tank top stick to him. Reaching carefully back, his fingers slip around a thin, wiry beam, and he hisses when his hand bumps the exit in the meaty section of his back at the hip.] Don't... move... [It's going in through the front and out the other side, but feeling down... it missed Midoriya's waist by millimeters.
He can't believe he's thankful.] Son of a bitch... [He lets his head rest against Midoriya for a little while longer, then lifts it to peer up into Midoriya's face.
The free hand he braces on the stone above--his palms crackle, and sweetness engulfs them. Then his hand slumps back down.] Too close... It'll fucking kill us... [And he can't turn around to blast backward, to get the slab off them.]
[ It's harder than he expects to get any idea of what's going on. It's dim and every so often the building shifts, rumbles around them. They're useless like this, trapped under here and all Midoriya needs to do is figure out how he can lift this rubble off of them. That's the easiest option, right? They shouldn't need other heroes to come after them and save them, they've been at this too long.
In the flickering light he can see Bakugou's messy hair and the shadows of the building around them. He lifts the arm that's cooperating a little bit more and...ah. Not great, then. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he shifts his arm around and tries to see if there are any bits of light creeping through where they're trapped but there's nothing. Limited oxygen, then, in addition to the two of them being here and sharing space. There's debris to contend with, too. Gingerly, he pulls the handkerchief out of the ruins of his suit and rips a strip of material off of his outfit. They're makeshift bandanas to cover their mouths and keep from inhaling too much dust, but at this point he's not even sure it's going to help.
Don't move, Bakugou says and Midoriya rasps out a laugh in response, his chest aching. ] I don't think I can, really.
[ Bakugou's a heavy weight over him, but there's warmth sliding down his side. He doesn't...think he's injured on his side, but everything feels fuzzy and distant and hard to concentrate on. Swallowing, he watches Bakugou's hand lift and then there's a faint crackle, but the cement is too far down on them, the space too small to do anything without risking blowing them up too. Shit. They'll be fine. They have to be fine. They've escaped worse than this before, haven't they? The wetness he feels makes sense at Bakugou's next words and the chill that sweeps through him makes his stomach turn in a way that has nothing to do with being hurt. ]
Alright. We... we're gonna stop that first. Don't move. [ His good hand starts feeling around, starting at his shoulder and working down until he feels cold metal and fear grips him. They can't remove it without making it worse, but there's no way to bandage this either. Think. ] Kacchan, can you reach your phone? We might be able to use the light, or text someone.
[ He tries groping for his in his back pocket but it's a pain in the ass to try and do with weight on top of him and minimal room to move. When he pulls it out, it's shattered, but it turns on and his head thunks back against the wall in relief. ]
I'm gonna try and put pressure on your - on the - [ His voice cracks, because there's no good way to say the metal gaping out of Bakugou's torso. Fabric rips wetly after he's settled his phone on his chest and then he starts winding it around the top half of where the metal juts out, holding off on pressing down too hard until he gets the okay from Bakugou. ] Okay?
[For a long time, Bakugou doesn't move again. He doesn't say anything, only breathes, raspy, like he's trying to conserve energy, air, or maybe like he's ready to pass out.
When he does move, it's careful and only as much as he needs to without shifting his body. His face grimaces, though, pauses. The pain that's starting to filter in breaks him out in a cold sweat, and he quivers gently on top of Midoriya despite how much he hardens his muscles to control it.
Getting his phone out has it in the same condition as Midoriya's. The screen is smashed. He drops it on Midoriya's chest by the other phone; his fingers keep slipping off the button, but no matter how many times he presses it, the screen won't light up.] God fucking dammit!
Shut the fuck up. Whatever.
[He's scared, in a way. About dying, but not even necessarily that. About being so useless. Again. About being shoved to the sidelines when he can be trying to do honest hero work.] Just fucking do it. [The fingers fiddling behind him cause him to draw a sharp, ragged hiss.]
Do it.
[The moment Midoriya does, white explodes behind his eyes, and he growls sickly in the back of his throat.] ...Stop... I'll... vomit... [The quivering is worse. He's still again for some time before trying to move his numb, tingling arm.] We've... gotta get... you out... [It's a useless effort to shove against the cement above them, only sprinkles down dust.]
[ He thought that the labored breathing and quivering was bad but no. No, the stillness is worse. For a while Midoriya just does his best to listen to the sound of his breathing, reassuring himself that Bakugou's alive in the only way he's able to. Their phones are busted but he might be able to make something work if he had a free fucking hand but glancing over, he realizes why he hasn't been able to move it. It's buried underneath rubble, and he can't tell if it's just caught, or-
Oh.
Midoriya inhales shakily and then shoves down the sense of panic that comes with the flickering, shadowy sight of that. He's got two working legs and Bakugou's bleeding out. His arm will be something to figure out later. Right now, he's more concerned with stopping the bleeding seeping out around the metal. Think. ]
We're both going to get out, and you're not going to vomit. [ Dust sprinkles down on them and Midoriya winds the cloth around the metal as best as he can and then lifts his good arm, trying to get an idea of where the lines of the concrete are, squinting. The space isn't large, but the biggest piece would crush both of them if it does topple down. They might be able to to hold it up if Midoriya wasn't pinned and Bakugou wasn't this injured. Tilting his head hurts like a motherfucker, he looks back at the concrete behind them and then his arm, feeling out against the concrete. Later, he'll unpack exactly how he feels about Bakugou acting like it's just him that's going to get out of this. Right now, he needs to figure out how to get both of them out. ]
Hey, Kacchan, I'm going to move, but you can't, okay? [ It takes every bit of concentration to keep his voice steady, to keep some semblance of a smile on his face as he slowly lifts a leg and plants a shoe against the concrete wall. ] I can keep this from falling on us. There's a smaller piece behind us, and I think... No, I know. You can blast a hole through it, and I keep this up, we'll at least be able to get oxygen in here and alert everyone else to where we are.
[ Bakugou can do this. Midoriya's certain of it. He's seen him blast through concrete before, he can do it again. If Bakugou can do that, then Midoriya can use his legs to keep this from falling down on them. ]
[As best he can, he's braced his knees and feet, braced his arms, having to forsake the back of Midoriya's head so he can utilize both of them. The movement still transfers to him faintly, and his lips sputter once almost like he's trying to hold back the moan of pain, trying to be better than that.
It's a thin pole. It's nothing. It's nothing.
The focus, at least, keeps him from thinking about the pain, the sick, heavy weight in his stomach, the shake to his limbs. Sweating is no problem. The sweat is there. Trying to get the energy to blast might be a small issue.
The fist of one hand bunches into whatever scraps he can find of Midoriya's chest, careful of the phones. A clutch, anxious, like he's afraid Midoriya is going to be hurt by something, anything.]
Is that... fucking all... nerd? Gonna ask me to fucking... light up the goddamn city...?
[He can do it. He will do it. Reaching forward, he waits until Midoriya is positioned, ready. He waits, like a dog at the doors of a race, for the go ahead. The palm crackles like pop rocks crunched in an aluminum mouth. Syrupy, sugary caramel. He tries to keep his hand as far from Midoriya as he can, flush against the cement.
One hand will be stronger, and he cups his hand at the last second to make the blast more controlled and less spread, and then he lets the nitro go. The blast isn’t bad. It shoots a straight hole through the debris, easy. The rubble quakes, and he has a bit of kickback that causes him to finally, actually moan under his breath before his arm slumps back down—then jumps up above them to try to help Midoriya hold what’s above them.]
[ It's a low, hushed whisper pressed against Bakugou's hair at the noise he makes, hating that what they have to do is just going to hurt him more. There's nothing he can do about that and as soon as they're out of here, someone will find them, they'll get to a hospital or to someone with a healing quirk and Bakugou will be okay. He has to be okay.
He rests his elbow in the dirt and grit and ignores the slight itch of it pressing into his arm, trying to focus as much of the lightning and energy from his quirk into his hand to give Bakugou enough room to see and aim. He wants to touch him, wants to reassure him that they're going to be fine but they won't be if they can't see what the hell they're doing, so this is the only option. Midoriya curls himself into Bakugou as much as he's able to to get out of the way of the blast and whispers You could do it if you had to, I know you could.
Both feet kick up and press hard against the top part of the concrete above Bakugou, and the moment the blast activates he shoves with as much power as he can manage, the whole structure shaking horribly around them. The sound of the explosion is near deafening but he has to focus, he can't let Bakugou get hurt further and with his teeth clenched he shoves back against the slab of rock, holding it. He can't maintain it forever, but there's light starting to creep in from the hole and he's not sure if it's the ringing in his ears but he thinks he hears voices.
His good arm splays over Bakugou's back, a haphazard hug along with putting as much pressure as he can on the wound to keep more blood from escaping. His lips press against Bakugou's temple, voice nearly inaudible. You're amazing you did it we're going to get out of here you're incredible, Kacchan, I--
Those are voices. Abruptly, there's a shout from the hole, then more and he faintly makes out the sounds of Uraraka saying something, the rubble around them shifting. Determinedly, he holds his legs steady, thighs aching, and waits. ]
[The quivering returns, but this time it’s the fall of adrenaline that leaves him weak. He droops only slightly, not able to move much more than that without hissing, without a sharp and agonizing sting and the resounding throb following.
Air rushes full on through the hole, scattering dust, but letting them breathe, letting them cool off, too. He can hear a faint buzzing, and he immediately tenses with his hand yanking unsteadily down to guard the hole—from villains maybe, to protect Midoriya. And only after several moments does he realize that it’s voices. He squints, the shaking in Midoriya’s arms faint. Voices...
Whatever he says it a garbled, inaudiable mess. Something slurred. Maybe something about a rescue.
He doesn’t even moan. His whole body slouches in Midoriya’s arms and the full of his weight unfortunately adds to the top of what all Midoriya is desperately trying to hold up above them. He murmurs something else, the ghost of words airy against Midoriya’s dirty, freckled cheek, and then his head thumps against Midoriya’s shoulder and neck as he passes out quietly, arm still extended out to guard the hole like he thought he’d die tooth and nail fighting for Midoriya and One for All.]
[ The full weight of Bakugou gets a slow exhale but Midoriya refuses to make any more noise than he has already, too focused on making certain what's rumbling around them doesn't fall. They're going to be okay, the others will get them out.
There are no words for the way he feels when Bakugou goes limp. He's been afraid countless times before, he's lost people in missions, he's failed in some situations but never like this. Never with someone this close, never with someone he's cared about this much. No, no, please wake up. Midoriya presses a frantic, blood-damp hand to the injury but Bakugou doesn't make any noise of pain, doesn't do anything. The first attempt at feeling for a pulse is too shaky, his fingers trembling too much to get a read, sliding slick over the column of his throat. When he finally does manage it, it's there even if it's fainter than he'd like. They're not going to die here. Bakugou's not going to die here.
What's important is saving the people you care about, protecting them. If he can't protect the people he cares about, what good is any of this, what good is this power All Might gave him? What good is making it this far if Bakugou isn't here with him?
Deku, you can stop holding it up, we've got it, Uraraka calls, the walls around them shuddering.
The decision's made before he even realizes it; he tips Bakugou's limp head up and presses their mouths together. Blood or spit, either's technically going to work and while he doesn't know exactly how it's transferred it has to be intentional and if it means saving Bakugou's life, buying him time, then every single molecule of him wants to do it. Uraraka's power holds the cement up, and when the part pinning his arm comes loose the pain is so raw and sharp that he has a brief moment of surprise before he blacks out.
When he wakes, Uraraka is floating him and Bakugou is loaded up to go to the hospital. He has a moment of clarity, slurring to her that he has to go with him, there's no other option and blessedly all those years of friendship means she doesn't question the panicked tone. They're separated at the hospital which he expects; Bakugou's worse off than he is but he manages to sweet talk them into putting them into the same room to save on space once they're out. Putting two pro heroes in the same room for recovery isn't uncommon when there's a massive event like this but he's put into the room sooner than Bakugou is and then he's stuck waiting. They stabilize him, and his arm is wrapped thickly with the doctors giving him lingering, concerned looks. He knows his arms are a mess. He knows. They won't know more until later and for the time being, Midoriya is left alone in the hospital bed while the heroes do cleanup and he gets to watch from the TV, hoping against hope that Bakugou's going to be okay. ]
[The air smells like the strangest scent when he opens his eyes, slow and languid. Like he had been napping at an uncharacteristic time of the day, like he’s groggy still, warm and comfortable. The smell is feminine... Floral with a small head of spice.
It takes a minute or two for him to realize he’s staring up at the sky, blue as sapphire and bright, almost clear except for a couple of lazy clouds. A very beginning of summer sky, but he can’t tell if the air is warm or cold. It’s simply calming, and there’s grass tickling his ears and neck beneath him.
A woman’s strong voice says, “Finally up? You’re a surprise.”
Above him, a silhouette comes into view: a woman with dark hair, pulled half up and smile on her face, amused and reassuring.] Who... the hell...? [This gets her to laugh. “You two are a lot different,” she admits. “But that’s fine. The most important thing about being a hero is a smile, and I guess you got me to smile.
“You must mean a lot to him. That’s important, too. Your friends.”
Friends. His brows draw together. Stubbornly, he tries to sit up, but finds he can’t. He’s held down, and a second of panic jolts through him until he realizes he isn’t being held down by anything in particular. “Don’t worry,” the woman says. “You have to give it back to him. I know you will. You feel it, don’t you? The power of all the people who have done their best at being a hero.” And she’s right; in the pit of him, it’s there. A crackling, swelling, burning energy. Powerful. So blinding and strong, endless. And so... very... Deku.
Is this, he wonders, what Deku truly has inside? This strength...?
His lips part and nothing emerges. The woman smiles knowingly at him and reaches up to push her mouth up at the corners. Smile. His eyes get heavy, and he can’t keep them open. There’s so many questions. He isn’t able to ask any of them. A void of darkness swallows him.
The next time he opens his eyes, he’s accosted by the steady beep of a heartrate monitor and the faint drip of an IV by his head. He stares at the ceiling, feeling sore, bruised, scraped. When he looks, not much is there on him. The rash he’d assume from cement is barely red skin, even if the feeling lingers, raw. Slowly, he turns his head to finally glance over toward the door, catches sight of the bed, the body in it. Without thinking, worried, he quickly tries to sit up to see Midoriya’s face only to freeze, hiss, and grimace.]
His phone and Bakugou's work, sort of. Not enough to do anything useful, but he answers one panicked call by managing to push at the green call button enough times it works, and Bakugou's mom's voice splits through it. He's not supposed to have his phone(s) or to be on them or doing anything more strenuous than being doped up on the very nice pain medication and waiting for word from Bakugou, so he's intercepted in just a few moments, and has to apologize profusely to the irritated nurse who then gets to deal with Mitsuki. It's a mess.
He spends a while floating, half-watching the news and knowing that unless something huge happens he's going to retain exactly 0% of anything unless it's more interesting than "heroes clean up a mess and turn in villains".
If he had his phones he could call the others and see how many are injured, he could get some kind of contact from them but not even the nurses will tell him anything. Another reason to get to number one, people actually tell you stuff. By the time they wheel Bakugou in Midoriya's played approximately a hundred games of tic tac toe with himself and isn't sure if he's winning or losing at this point.
By the time Bakugou wakes up, he's drifting in and out. He'll wake for a few moments and then drowse back off after reassuring himself that Bakugou's still there, still stable. Falling slightly behind the urge to see Bakugou wake up is the urge to shower. He still smells blood, and while he's had a fair amount of water to drink, he wants to brush his teeth fiercely. He's not sure what time it is when Bakugou does finally wake; he only knows it because of the squeak of the cot next to him. Gingerly, he sits up, suddenly feeling a thousand times more awake. ]
[For a long moment, Bakugou refuses to sit back or get up. He probably isn’t allowed up. He probably won’t be allowed up for a while no matter what kind of bullshit medical quirk they used on him. But he isn’t the kinda guy who takes shit lying down.
Rather than scream, the monitor dies when he yanks the clamp off his finger. He eases his legs over the side of the bed and waits a bit as his equilibrium adjusts. Even if Midoriya frantically tries to get him to stop, he won’t listen. He doesn’t. Both feet touch the floor, and he hauls himself up with the help of the IV pole. The wound on his hip smacks him with pain when he puts weight on one leg, so he shifts quickly, adjusts again.
And then he makes the short trek across the gap between beds until he can put a hand on it, curl into the stiff mattress and thin sheets.] You.. bas..tard... I’m going... to kill... your fucking... ass. [It seems Kacchan is back in partial swing.
And trying his damnest to climb up somehow into the bed with Midoriya. A small struggle, balancing the IV, letting it go, trying to get his fist bunched into the papery hospital gown by Midoriya’s shoulder and neck.] Deeeekuuuuuu...
What did... you fucking do...?! What happened... after I passed out...?!
[ If he gets out of bed carefully enough he can probably make it over and either steal a chair, or sit on half of Bakugou's bed assuming he's not injured so badly that it'd hurt him more. Midoriya technically ought to call the nurses but he doesn't necessarily want to, not when they probably need to talk sooner rather than later. If he -
Well, it doesn't matter what he does. While he's weighing the best options and trying to sort through them Bakugou is up and Midoriya does protest, but it's useless because Bakugou's there and Midoriya quickly realizes he ought to help him or this is going to go a thousand times worse. The nurses are going to be so pissed but Midoriya's not going to pretend like he doesn't want him here. ]
You really- I mean really shouldn't be moving, Kacchan. There was metal straight through you. All the way through. They didn't know-
[ The words are just sort of spilling out of him in a useless jumble, his stomach flipping itself into knots at the idea of Bakugou tearing stitches or hurting himself beyond what can be repaired just as soon as he's well. The hand in a cast settles onto his hips, and the other at his shoulder, gentle but firm. He'll catch Bakugou if he ends up falling, but it probably won't be graceful or pretty or all that helpful with his arm like this. ]
Kill me laying down, please, or we're gonna be in even more trouble. [ There's no thought given to publicists or nurses seeing two rising star heroes in the same bed, nor the rumors and trouble it could cause if someone sees one casually trying to strangle the second while the second tries to get him to lay down. Maybe a little thought, enough to cast a glance at the door, but it's still closed and no one is at the window, yet. ]
[This piece of shit. This nasty, glistening piece of shit.
A burning, strangling anger rises up in him, and a flush speckles his neck out from under the gown, up into his face. His fist curls tighter, crackles in a way not entirely familiar, and then he shoves Midoriya into the bed despite the motion being weak. He’s not sure what to do with the anger; he doesn’t want to hurt Midoriya actually. He’s confused, he’s terrified—
What he thinks is the case, what he can feel in the soul of him. Foreign. It isn’t his, and it doesn’t belong to him. He doesn’t want it like this, not this way. The only time this is acceptable is if All Might had plucked him out of the crowd, mentored him. Only from All Might, not Midoriya.
His teeth are bared but gritted. The exhale that comes out between is ragged and nearly a kind of stuttered hiccup. He wilts over Midoriya, loosens, drops without it being heavy enough to jar anything.] You fucking shitty bastard... You’re a fucking disgrace... Why would you... I don’t... want it from you... from shitty, disgusting Deku...
Not... from you... [He’s too weak to throw a fit. Midoriya gets what Midoriya got after they had just gotten into U.A., what All Might got more than Midoriya. The tears aren’t a cry so much as a silent, river-eyed release of frustration and worry. A hard reboot. What he can’t process or compartmentalize like a person who isn’t plagued by high personal standards and emotional constipation.
He keeps his face hidden against Midoriya’s shoulder and cries with nothing but the shiver of his shoulders and the clutch of his hands in the sheets of the bed.]
[ It's weird. There's a part of him that still hates to hear any of this vitriol, even if he knows that it's not exactly meant how it sounds. He's absolutely terrible at expressing himself in any sort of constructive way and Midoriya knows that, but he doesn't think he'll ever have a point where he likes hearing it. There's no anger, though, no defensiveness. He knows Bakugou. He knows what he's saying even if Bakugou doesn't know how to say it in a way that isn't 'jackass'. ]
I know you didn't.
[ Does he apologize for something he's not sorry for? Gingerly, Midoriya sinks back into his bed and scoots over to accommodate him as much as humanly possible and then takes the weight of him leaning in, barely resisting hugging him as tightly as he dares. The front of the thin hospital gown he's wearing starts to dampen and for a moment, Midoriya thinks of the way Bakugou's clothes felt, hot and damp with blood. His stomach turns and he dares to press his fingers against Bakugou's shoulder, shivering.
He's not sorry. Bakugou almost died, but he didn't. Midoriya might not ever know if the transfer of part of his quirk was what made the difference, but it's better than waking up in this hospital bed with someone telling him that Bakugou didn't. The weight of him is its own reassurance, really. Midoriya lifts his hand up and presses it against Bakugou's head, threading through his hair gently. His own eyes are prickling with the threat of tears but he tips his head back and closes his eyes, trying to will them away and failing. ]
I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't have... I know that's not what you wanted. How you wanted it. But the alternative was losing you and I didn't know if you... [ Too raw, too honest. Midoriya sucks in a breath, holds it until he thinks he can steady himself and then tries again. ] I'm just glad you're alright. I won't be sorry for that.
[Whatever he says is muttered and hoarse, almost too soft to be heard, but it's probably something along the lines of "stupid" and "Deku," and he keeps his face shoved into the thick curve of Midoriya's neck. His fingers are still stiffly tangled in the sheets, knuckles white.
It feels... disappointing. A disappointment in himself. He wonders if he'll ever be able to yank his feet out of the mud holding him back from the glory he desires, even if that means missing all the glory he has already obtained. Those glories are too small, he thinks: giving an All Might tie pin, telling Kirishima the suit he picked out is fine, turning away from battle to dig Midoriya out of the rubble.
The crying doesn't last very long at all. He's not mourning anything this way, and he only needs the hot tears to come and go like the tide of his anger, the frustration he doesn't know how to articulate without feeling weak.
So he doesn't say anything; otherwise, it would be a dismissive, "I didn't want your pity," and, "Why didn't you think about All Might's legacy?" and both of those are a useless arguments. But he doesn't pull away from Midoriya's warm, beacon body in the cold room, or the fingers twined in his soft, wiry hair. The hands clenching the sheets have finally loosened, leaving behind peaked wrinkles, and then they smooth palm-down under the edges of Midoriya's shoulder blades.
And he's like this for a long while, almost as if he's fallen asleep, except for the tickle of his lashes on Midoriya's neck when his eyes shift, when he blinks. His voice is rough when he does speak.] It's mine now. [There's a lack of malice in his tone, but a hell of a lot of surety.]
You aren't getting it back until every single thing wrong with you is healed. You don't deserve it until then.
[ He won't regret it because it means that Bakugou is here, alive, in one piece and that was the whole reason he even considered it. That extra durability combined with being able to survive almost anything thrown at him has kept him going, kept All Might going for years. It was the right choice to make sure Bakugou lived to see another day, Midoriya knows that but he also understands why Bakugou would be upset. He's so focused on fairness and what he's earned, what he deserves that getting the one thing that would rocket him to the top of the list with enough time but not earning it probably itches at him like an uncomfortable jacket.
He could, of course, just give it back. Midoriya knows he will eventually and knows that if another incident happened right now they've both be confined to the hospital without being able to argue their way out of it.
For a while, he floats. He's groggy, sore and exhausted and Bakugou's quiet crying dampens his shirt but otherwise they're not talking or fighting so Midoriya waits until he decides to speak again. In Bakugou's hair, his hand keeps stroking through it lazily, working through the tangles and knots gently until finally, he speaks again. ] Alright. I'll work hard to make sure I deserve it again.
[ He doesn't tense, doesn't mistrust Bakugou; if he says he's going to give it back, then he will and Midoriya knew that he wouldn't do any different. ]
When you...did you see anything? Or anyone, I guess, at all?
[When Midoriya is healed, Bakugou will give it back. He's an asshole, but he's lawful? A lawful asshole. When Midoriya has "earned" it, OFA will go back to where it belongs.
If it means Midoriya is healthy and strong; this matters more to Bakugou than what he thinks. On the surface, the vessel for the quirk should be protected. The host should be guarded and supported. But beneath that... it's deeper. Midoriya means a hell of a lot more to him than he wants to admit. Understands him more than he'd like to admit.]
The hell? [His voice is soft, and... wary maybe. Like Midoriya caught him hiding something.] Maybe. [After a long moment, he pulls his head out of Midoriya's neck and lifts it enough to peer down at Midoriya's face.] It was...
...I don't know, like a fucking dream or something. There was some woman. I don't know where the hell I was, but... she was there. It was a dream, though. When I was out.
[ Gently, he cards his fingers through Bakugou's messy bangs and sweeps them back when he leans down to look at him, smiling up at him. There are circles under his eyes and he's very clearly exhausted, but the smile is warm and real, relieved. ]
Yeah it's... I don't know how to describe it, really. It's one thing to know but it's something else to experience it, I guess.
[ Gingerly, he scoots over just a little bit more and then tugs the laughably thin sheet up around both of them, tucking them in as best as he can manage with two large bodies in a bed meant for one. He wants to ask what she said to him if anything, but that's not his business. He gave the quirk to Bakugou and it's up to him if he wants to share. For the time being, it's enough laying like this, watching Bakugou with sleepy-eyed contentment, playing with his hair. ]
[Though he tried not to settle down on top of Midoriya on his bad side, it still hurts to heft himself up and shift, to turn so the covers can be pulled from beneath him and instead put over the top of them.
He should really turn over onto his back, but there's something so warm and comforting about sprawling on Midoriya this way. Something less two Doritos trying to squeeze their broad shoulders in a twin-sized hospital bed.
So he'll stay this way until the pain of his hip forces him to move. Besides, Midoriya is playing with his hair, and he's a sucker.]
You saw that shit too? [Weird. But he... had the strangest respect for the woman. A connection he could feel, one he knew he had to honor. A deeper connection, too, though he hadn't seen anyone else at all.] Ehh...?
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about...
[A red flush creeps up his neck; the tops of his ears get darker, flushed. FUCK. Why did Midoriya have to say this?]
[ Careful, Midoriya mouths as he watches Bakugou settle himself in, hoping that he doesn't hurt himself trying to squeeze in there. He wants to tell him they should redo this, they should try and make sure that they're not hurting Bakugou but he's not about to insult his pride if he seems alright. ]
Yeah. It's... well, you know how it came about. Sometimes I see all the previous holders, and she was the one who trained All Might back then.
[ It's weird to think about the idea that he's going to be in a similar state when he's passed. Is he going to continue living on in that weird ghost...power form for the next users of One For All? Is Bakugou now that he's held the power? Does it mean that they don't really die? Does it mean that there's something after death if they have quirks?
Midoriya makes a little noise because it's way too much to consider and these kinds of weird philosophical questions are too much and it's much easier to grin at Bakugou flushing, tugging playfully at his bangs, stroking his fingers along the line of an eyebrow, tracing back to playfully thumb over a red ear. ]
I liked it. I mean, I--. Maybe not the context. The context kind of sucked, honestly, but I liked...mmm.
[ Now he's a little flustered, sinking further into the bed, cheeks warm. ]
[The shoulder of the ear hikes up gently when Midoriya starts rubbing it. He can tell it's red as shit just by how chilly Midoriya's fingers feel, and the rubbing isn't helping when it sends a soft roll of a shiver down his spine--when it tightens his stomach, it makes him wince very faintly under the fingers on his brow.]
What the hell? I SAID, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE... hell... you're...
[A soft exhale leaves him, and then he swallows. The look on Midoriya's face draws all of the ire right out of him for some reason, a far cry from when the mere glance of Midoriya's freckled and round-eyed head would fuel his rage and envy.]
Cut it the fuck out. I said I... [Midoriya isn't gonna listen to him period. This is a useless battle.] So what if I fucking did, huh? Don't give me that shit...
You were-- [The rolling concerns get wedged in the bottle neck of his filtered throat.] If you would have seen your dumbass face in that hole! You were fucking dead! I called you a hundred times, and you wouldn't open your goddamn eyes! What was I supposed to fucing do!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
did you wanna be cockblocked at peak drama bc it happened
Date: 2018-11-20 07:49 pm (UTC)The whole of his face bunches, like he wants to be angry, like he's about to be angry, but the held breath ruggedly shakes out of him when he releases it, and the expression fades quickly into something resigned, flushed, pleased. When he bites his bottom lip, it nearly bleeds.
Once he returns the grind, he freezes, leaning heavily into Midoriya's body. His head ducks down without tossing the hand off, and he presses his forehead into Midoriya's shoulder, frustrated. Then he presses it into Midoriya's neck at the collar of the shirt, breathes a:] Fuck. [like he knows this is a bad idea and wants not to care. He's quiet for so long, heavy on Midoriya's chest, breathless, half hard, smelling sickeningly sweet.]
I want to wreck you. I want to destroy you. I want you... so fucking badly.
[What he doesn't notice is the smoke. The fog? Iridescent like the soap and oil in bubbles, but thicker. It spills low on the floor, heavy, out from the event room and into the mouth of the hallway. The tendrils of it stretch slowly out, pushed along by the rest that just keeps coming. In the distance edge of the room, along the boundaries of where everyone is gathered: more smoke, the sudden lack of much sound, the scrape of chairs.]
HAHAHA
Date: 2018-11-20 08:05 pm (UTC)I want you to. It was all I could think about when you were dressing up, you look so good and I - I. Uh.
[ He's been sort of keeping an eye on the door just in case they have to act like this is just a really enthusiastic hug, but there's smoke starting to lick out from underneath the door, almost iridescent when the lighting hits it. He's entirely distracted from Bakugou in a heartbeat, staring at it and then he pushes at him. ]
There's smoke. Kacchan.
[ They're both flushed and a little messy but Midoriya doesn't care because he doesn't know what that is but it can't be good. ]
...I'm gonna lose the bet, aren't I.
[ They're absolutely about to get messy and his nice suit is going to be ruined. One more kiss, and then Midoriya slides off his jacket, giving Bakugou a lopsided smile. ]
C'mon.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 09:05 pm (UTC)What the fuck? Don't breathe it. [He's stunned by the kiss not because he gets it but because of the smoke, the fear. He shields Midoriya when he turns around. Fuck.] Out the damn window, we'll go around.
[On the way, Bakugou wants to know why the hell anyone in their right mind would attack a gala housing this many heroes. A bold move, but a stupid one it felt like? This many registered do-gooders who could kick your ass, and some moron... No. The League. It's gotta be the damn League.
Getting back in elsewhere gives them the element of surprise, though also offers them an equal amount. They're not wrong: it's the League, a few of them. The smoke isn't exactly like the smoke from the camp, but similar enough. The floor and tables are littered with unconscious people--their classmates. He's a lawful jock, hot-headed, wants to rush in, and it takes Midoriya's incessant reassurance for him not to do it.
Working together is something Bakugou's grown more use to over the years. Instead of trying to relegate himself to the front, the best, he's willing to focus on the victory of helping others. But he's still powerful, and he knows his quirk isn't made for saving so much as destroying. The building doesn't stand up against his rallying. The building doesn't stand up against villains willing to use friends and allies as leverage.
For once, there's something more important than winning.
Katsuki Bakugou gives up his assault when Midoriya crumples beneath the broken rubble of the building. It's about Izuku, but more than that. It's about Deku. It's about One for All. It's about All Might handing down one of the most prized gift, and Bakugou refuses to just let Midoriya go down, be smeared into a stain like the man isn't going to become Number One.]
DEKU! [The slab of cement rolls away, and he trips when he tries to slide into the opening, curses as the skin is stripped away along his leg, his pants doing with it. There's hardly anything left of his shirt, his tank top. Dust and blood cover his face and his shoulders and arms, but he reaches down to hook his hand carefully below Midoriya's neck, thumb smoothing the cheek in front of the ear.
The touch is too light, like he thinks Midoriya is dead, like the neck will just twist in his hand and show it's snapped.] Deku, you fucking bastard, open your damn eyes! [Please.] Izuku! [Stone shifts.
He barely gets to glance over his shoulder when another cement slab is lobbed down on top of them. It snaps against the hole, but covers it, hit him solid in the back and knocks the wind out of him. He slips further into the alcove and lands on top of Midoriya with a strangled wheeze and then a fit of coughing.
Killed him, he thinks. He finished the job, not unlike All Might. The new Symbol of Peace and Hope is destroyed by him again, and he growls hoarsely and airily in the dim confines of the collapse.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 09:21 pm (UTC)For a while there's nothing but chaos. Half of the other heroes are out of commission if not all of them and for a while there's nothing but the pounding of his heart and the crackle of One for All mixed with Bakugou's explosions. Sweat drips into his eyes and he swipes a dirty hand against it, smearing dust and grit across his skin but keeping the sweat out of the way as much as possible.
Bakugou takes a hit Midoriya should have seen coming and he chokes out a mangled version of Kacchan! and then the building is collapsing. There's nothing he can do besides try and punch the debris out of the way and save as many people as he can with what he's got but even that isn't working. Bakugou's nice suit is going to be ruined he thinks fuzzily, one minute fighting and the next an impact hits him hard enough it takes him a few moments to pull himself back together. He comes to with Bakugou over him, coughing viciously and when he tries to lift his arm to reach out to him it doesn't feel like it's working. He raises his left instead and fits a hand around the muscle of Bakugou's forearm. His mouth is dry, dust in his eyes and sprinkled in Bakugou's hair along with smears of what he's pretty sure are blood on the other man. ]
Kacchan, are you okay?
[ He's clearly not. Neither of them are, but they're heroes and they have to do something. Slowly, he creeps his hand up through the mangled material of his jacket and Bakugou's arm, gripping it. His smile is trembling but he puts as much certainty into it as he can, adrenaline thrumming through him. They can't see covered like this, so he tries to focus as much of his quirk into him as he can, flickering lightning lighting Bakugou up in shades of soft, sickly green. Please be okay, Midoriya thinks toward anyone listening, and feels the building rumble around them. Some of the villains are down and other heroes are up, they have to be, which means they just need to get out of here. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 09:49 pm (UTC)He sags on Midoriya, one hand clutching at the edges of cement and the other still looped around Midoriya's neck. His forehead rests on the other's shoulder, and he tries to steady his breathing with the slowly limiting oxygen.
One for All--the strangest sensation still when it ghosts over him, something he remembers from how it reached out to tickle him when Midoriya fought him in the street and came so close to hammering him with a leg. He groans softly from it; the sound is exhausted, pained.
Something warm is pooling at his hip, something that makes the scraps of shirt and tank top stick to him. Reaching carefully back, his fingers slip around a thin, wiry beam, and he hisses when his hand bumps the exit in the meaty section of his back at the hip.] Don't... move... [It's going in through the front and out the other side, but feeling down... it missed Midoriya's waist by millimeters.
He can't believe he's thankful.] Son of a bitch... [He lets his head rest against Midoriya for a little while longer, then lifts it to peer up into Midoriya's face.
The free hand he braces on the stone above--his palms crackle, and sweetness engulfs them. Then his hand slumps back down.] Too close... It'll fucking kill us... [And he can't turn around to blast backward, to get the slab off them.]
I'm bleeding out.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 10:03 pm (UTC)In the flickering light he can see Bakugou's messy hair and the shadows of the building around them. He lifts the arm that's cooperating a little bit more and...ah. Not great, then. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he shifts his arm around and tries to see if there are any bits of light creeping through where they're trapped but there's nothing. Limited oxygen, then, in addition to the two of them being here and sharing space. There's debris to contend with, too. Gingerly, he pulls the handkerchief out of the ruins of his suit and rips a strip of material off of his outfit. They're makeshift bandanas to cover their mouths and keep from inhaling too much dust, but at this point he's not even sure it's going to help.
Don't move, Bakugou says and Midoriya rasps out a laugh in response, his chest aching. ] I don't think I can, really.
[ Bakugou's a heavy weight over him, but there's warmth sliding down his side. He doesn't...think he's injured on his side, but everything feels fuzzy and distant and hard to concentrate on. Swallowing, he watches Bakugou's hand lift and then there's a faint crackle, but the cement is too far down on them, the space too small to do anything without risking blowing them up too. Shit. They'll be fine. They have to be fine. They've escaped worse than this before, haven't they? The wetness he feels makes sense at Bakugou's next words and the chill that sweeps through him makes his stomach turn in a way that has nothing to do with being hurt. ]
Alright. We... we're gonna stop that first. Don't move. [ His good hand starts feeling around, starting at his shoulder and working down until he feels cold metal and fear grips him. They can't remove it without making it worse, but there's no way to bandage this either. Think. ] Kacchan, can you reach your phone? We might be able to use the light, or text someone.
[ He tries groping for his in his back pocket but it's a pain in the ass to try and do with weight on top of him and minimal room to move. When he pulls it out, it's shattered, but it turns on and his head thunks back against the wall in relief. ]
I'm gonna try and put pressure on your - on the - [ His voice cracks, because there's no good way to say the metal gaping out of Bakugou's torso. Fabric rips wetly after he's settled his phone on his chest and then he starts winding it around the top half of where the metal juts out, holding off on pressing down too hard until he gets the okay from Bakugou. ] Okay?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 10:35 pm (UTC)When he does move, it's careful and only as much as he needs to without shifting his body. His face grimaces, though, pauses. The pain that's starting to filter in breaks him out in a cold sweat, and he quivers gently on top of Midoriya despite how much he hardens his muscles to control it.
Getting his phone out has it in the same condition as Midoriya's. The screen is smashed. He drops it on Midoriya's chest by the other phone; his fingers keep slipping off the button, but no matter how many times he presses it, the screen won't light up.] God fucking dammit!
Shut the fuck up. Whatever.
[He's scared, in a way. About dying, but not even necessarily that. About being so useless. Again. About being shoved to the sidelines when he can be trying to do honest hero work.] Just fucking do it. [The fingers fiddling behind him cause him to draw a sharp, ragged hiss.]
Do it.
[The moment Midoriya does, white explodes behind his eyes, and he growls sickly in the back of his throat.] ...Stop... I'll... vomit... [The quivering is worse. He's still again for some time before trying to move his numb, tingling arm.] We've... gotta get... you out... [It's a useless effort to shove against the cement above them, only sprinkles down dust.]
One... for All... You can... fucking do it.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-20 10:44 pm (UTC)Oh.
Midoriya inhales shakily and then shoves down the sense of panic that comes with the flickering, shadowy sight of that. He's got two working legs and Bakugou's bleeding out. His arm will be something to figure out later. Right now, he's more concerned with stopping the bleeding seeping out around the metal. Think. ]
We're both going to get out, and you're not going to vomit. [ Dust sprinkles down on them and Midoriya winds the cloth around the metal as best as he can and then lifts his good arm, trying to get an idea of where the lines of the concrete are, squinting. The space isn't large, but the biggest piece would crush both of them if it does topple down. They might be able to to hold it up if Midoriya wasn't pinned and Bakugou wasn't this injured. Tilting his head hurts like a motherfucker, he looks back at the concrete behind them and then his arm, feeling out against the concrete. Later, he'll unpack exactly how he feels about Bakugou acting like it's just him that's going to get out of this. Right now, he needs to figure out how to get both of them out. ]
Hey, Kacchan, I'm going to move, but you can't, okay? [ It takes every bit of concentration to keep his voice steady, to keep some semblance of a smile on his face as he slowly lifts a leg and plants a shoe against the concrete wall. ] I can keep this from falling on us. There's a smaller piece behind us, and I think... No, I know. You can blast a hole through it, and I keep this up, we'll at least be able to get oxygen in here and alert everyone else to where we are.
[ Bakugou can do this. Midoriya's certain of it. He's seen him blast through concrete before, he can do it again. If Bakugou can do that, then Midoriya can use his legs to keep this from falling down on them. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 12:04 am (UTC)[As best he can, he's braced his knees and feet, braced his arms, having to forsake the back of Midoriya's head so he can utilize both of them. The movement still transfers to him faintly, and his lips sputter once almost like he's trying to hold back the moan of pain, trying to be better than that.
It's a thin pole. It's nothing. It's nothing.
The focus, at least, keeps him from thinking about the pain, the sick, heavy weight in his stomach, the shake to his limbs. Sweating is no problem. The sweat is there. Trying to get the energy to blast might be a small issue.
The fist of one hand bunches into whatever scraps he can find of Midoriya's chest, careful of the phones. A clutch, anxious, like he's afraid Midoriya is going to be hurt by something, anything.]
Is that... fucking all... nerd? Gonna ask me to fucking... light up the goddamn city...?
[He can do it. He will do it. Reaching forward, he waits until Midoriya is positioned, ready. He waits, like a dog at the doors of a race, for the go ahead. The palm crackles like pop rocks crunched in an aluminum mouth. Syrupy, sugary caramel. He tries to keep his hand as far from Midoriya as he can, flush against the cement.
One hand will be stronger, and he cups his hand at the last second to make the blast more controlled and less spread, and then he lets the nitro go. The blast isn’t bad. It shoots a straight hole through the debris, easy. The rubble quakes, and he has a bit of kickback that causes him to finally, actually moan under his breath before his arm slumps back down—then jumps up above them to try to help Midoriya hold what’s above them.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 12:25 am (UTC)[ It's a low, hushed whisper pressed against Bakugou's hair at the noise he makes, hating that what they have to do is just going to hurt him more. There's nothing he can do about that and as soon as they're out of here, someone will find them, they'll get to a hospital or to someone with a healing quirk and Bakugou will be okay. He has to be okay.
He rests his elbow in the dirt and grit and ignores the slight itch of it pressing into his arm, trying to focus as much of the lightning and energy from his quirk into his hand to give Bakugou enough room to see and aim. He wants to touch him, wants to reassure him that they're going to be fine but they won't be if they can't see what the hell they're doing, so this is the only option. Midoriya curls himself into Bakugou as much as he's able to to get out of the way of the blast and whispers You could do it if you had to, I know you could.
Both feet kick up and press hard against the top part of the concrete above Bakugou, and the moment the blast activates he shoves with as much power as he can manage, the whole structure shaking horribly around them. The sound of the explosion is near deafening but he has to focus, he can't let Bakugou get hurt further and with his teeth clenched he shoves back against the slab of rock, holding it. He can't maintain it forever, but there's light starting to creep in from the hole and he's not sure if it's the ringing in his ears but he thinks he hears voices.
His good arm splays over Bakugou's back, a haphazard hug along with putting as much pressure as he can on the wound to keep more blood from escaping. His lips press against Bakugou's temple, voice nearly inaudible. You're amazing you did it we're going to get out of here you're incredible, Kacchan, I--
Those are voices. Abruptly, there's a shout from the hole, then more and he faintly makes out the sounds of Uraraka saying something, the rubble around them shifting. Determinedly, he holds his legs steady, thighs aching, and waits. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 01:19 am (UTC)Air rushes full on through the hole, scattering dust, but letting them breathe, letting them cool off, too. He can hear a faint buzzing, and he immediately tenses with his hand yanking unsteadily down to guard the hole—from villains maybe, to protect Midoriya. And only after several moments does he realize that it’s voices. He squints, the shaking in Midoriya’s arms faint. Voices...
Whatever he says it a garbled, inaudiable mess. Something slurred. Maybe something about a rescue.
He doesn’t even moan. His whole body slouches in Midoriya’s arms and the full of his weight unfortunately adds to the top of what all Midoriya is desperately trying to hold up above them. He murmurs something else, the ghost of words airy against Midoriya’s dirty, freckled cheek, and then his head thumps against Midoriya’s shoulder and neck as he passes out quietly, arm still extended out to guard the hole like he thought he’d die tooth and nail fighting for Midoriya and One for All.]
This is...re...the discord messages but i can edit if it ain't kosher
Date: 2018-11-21 01:57 am (UTC)There are no words for the way he feels when Bakugou goes limp. He's been afraid countless times before, he's lost people in missions, he's failed in some situations but never like this. Never with someone this close, never with someone he's cared about this much. No, no, please wake up. Midoriya presses a frantic, blood-damp hand to the injury but Bakugou doesn't make any noise of pain, doesn't do anything. The first attempt at feeling for a pulse is too shaky, his fingers trembling too much to get a read, sliding slick over the column of his throat. When he finally does manage it, it's there even if it's fainter than he'd like. They're not going to die here. Bakugou's not going to die here.
What's important is saving the people you care about, protecting them. If he can't protect the people he cares about, what good is any of this, what good is this power All Might gave him? What good is making it this far if Bakugou isn't here with him?
Deku, you can stop holding it up, we've got it, Uraraka calls, the walls around them shuddering.
The decision's made before he even realizes it; he tips Bakugou's limp head up and presses their mouths together. Blood or spit, either's technically going to work and while he doesn't know exactly how it's transferred it has to be intentional and if it means saving Bakugou's life, buying him time, then every single molecule of him wants to do it. Uraraka's power holds the cement up, and when the part pinning his arm comes loose the pain is so raw and sharp that he has a brief moment of surprise before he blacks out.
When he wakes, Uraraka is floating him and Bakugou is loaded up to go to the hospital. He has a moment of clarity, slurring to her that he has to go with him, there's no other option and blessedly all those years of friendship means she doesn't question the panicked tone. They're separated at the hospital which he expects; Bakugou's worse off than he is but he manages to sweet talk them into putting them into the same room to save on space once they're out. Putting two pro heroes in the same room for recovery isn't uncommon when there's a massive event like this but he's put into the room sooner than Bakugou is and then he's stuck waiting. They stabilize him, and his arm is wrapped thickly with the doctors giving him lingering, concerned looks. He knows his arms are a mess. He knows. They won't know more until later and for the time being, Midoriya is left alone in the hospital bed while the heroes do cleanup and he gets to watch from the TV, hoping against hope that Bakugou's going to be okay. ]
the adults are gonna murder him
Date: 2018-11-21 03:08 am (UTC)It takes a minute or two for him to realize he’s staring up at the sky, blue as sapphire and bright, almost clear except for a couple of lazy clouds. A very beginning of summer sky, but he can’t tell if the air is warm or cold. It’s simply calming, and there’s grass tickling his ears and neck beneath him.
A woman’s strong voice says, “Finally up? You’re a surprise.”
Above him, a silhouette comes into view: a woman with dark hair, pulled half up and smile on her face, amused and reassuring.] Who... the hell...? [This gets her to laugh. “You two are a lot different,” she admits. “But that’s fine. The most important thing about being a hero is a smile, and I guess you got me to smile.
“You must mean a lot to him. That’s important, too. Your friends.”
Friends. His brows draw together. Stubbornly, he tries to sit up, but finds he can’t. He’s held down, and a second of panic jolts through him until he realizes he isn’t being held down by anything in particular. “Don’t worry,” the woman says. “You have to give it back to him. I know you will. You feel it, don’t you? The power of all the people who have done their best at being a hero.” And she’s right; in the pit of him, it’s there. A crackling, swelling, burning energy. Powerful. So blinding and strong, endless. And so... very... Deku.
Is this, he wonders, what Deku truly has inside? This strength...?
His lips part and nothing emerges. The woman smiles knowingly at him and reaches up to push her mouth up at the corners. Smile. His eyes get heavy, and he can’t keep them open. There’s so many questions. He isn’t able to ask any of them. A void of darkness swallows him.
The next time he opens his eyes, he’s accosted by the steady beep of a heartrate monitor and the faint drip of an IV by his head. He stares at the ceiling, feeling sore, bruised, scraped. When he looks, not much is there on him. The rash he’d assume from cement is barely red skin, even if the feeling lingers, raw. Slowly, he turns his head to finally glance over toward the door, catches sight of the bed, the body in it. Without thinking, worried, he quickly tries to sit up to see Midoriya’s face only to freeze, hiss, and grimace.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 03:24 am (UTC)His phone and Bakugou's work, sort of. Not enough to do anything useful, but he answers one panicked call by managing to push at the green call button enough times it works, and Bakugou's mom's voice splits through it. He's not supposed to have his phone(s) or to be on them or doing anything more strenuous than being doped up on the very nice pain medication and waiting for word from Bakugou, so he's intercepted in just a few moments, and has to apologize profusely to the irritated nurse who then gets to deal with Mitsuki. It's a mess.
He spends a while floating, half-watching the news and knowing that unless something huge happens he's going to retain exactly 0% of anything unless it's more interesting than "heroes clean up a mess and turn in villains".
If he had his phones he could call the others and see how many are injured, he could get some kind of contact from them but not even the nurses will tell him anything. Another reason to get to number one, people actually tell you stuff. By the time they wheel Bakugou in Midoriya's played approximately a hundred games of tic tac toe with himself and isn't sure if he's winning or losing at this point.
By the time Bakugou wakes up, he's drifting in and out. He'll wake for a few moments and then drowse back off after reassuring himself that Bakugou's still there, still stable. Falling slightly behind the urge to see Bakugou wake up is the urge to shower. He still smells blood, and while he's had a fair amount of water to drink, he wants to brush his teeth fiercely. He's not sure what time it is when Bakugou does finally wake; he only knows it because of the squeak of the cot next to him. Gingerly, he sits up, suddenly feeling a thousand times more awake. ]
Kacchan?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 03:44 am (UTC)Rather than scream, the monitor dies when he yanks the clamp off his finger. He eases his legs over the side of the bed and waits a bit as his equilibrium adjusts. Even if Midoriya frantically tries to get him to stop, he won’t listen. He doesn’t. Both feet touch the floor, and he hauls himself up with the help of the IV pole. The wound on his hip smacks him with pain when he puts weight on one leg, so he shifts quickly, adjusts again.
And then he makes the short trek across the gap between beds until he can put a hand on it, curl into the stiff mattress and thin sheets.] You.. bas..tard... I’m going... to kill... your fucking... ass. [It seems Kacchan is back in partial swing.
And trying his damnest to climb up somehow into the bed with Midoriya. A small struggle, balancing the IV, letting it go, trying to get his fist bunched into the papery hospital gown by Midoriya’s shoulder and neck.] Deeeekuuuuuu...
What did... you fucking do...?! What happened... after I passed out...?!
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 03:54 am (UTC)Well, it doesn't matter what he does. While he's weighing the best options and trying to sort through them Bakugou is up and Midoriya does protest, but it's useless because Bakugou's there and Midoriya quickly realizes he ought to help him or this is going to go a thousand times worse. The nurses are going to be so pissed but Midoriya's not going to pretend like he doesn't want him here. ]
You really- I mean really shouldn't be moving, Kacchan. There was metal straight through you. All the way through. They didn't know-
[ The words are just sort of spilling out of him in a useless jumble, his stomach flipping itself into knots at the idea of Bakugou tearing stitches or hurting himself beyond what can be repaired just as soon as he's well. The hand in a cast settles onto his hips, and the other at his shoulder, gentle but firm. He'll catch Bakugou if he ends up falling, but it probably won't be graceful or pretty or all that helpful with his arm like this. ]
Kill me laying down, please, or we're gonna be in even more trouble. [ There's no thought given to publicists or nurses seeing two rising star heroes in the same bed, nor the rumors and trouble it could cause if someone sees one casually trying to strangle the second while the second tries to get him to lay down. Maybe a little thought, enough to cast a glance at the door, but it's still closed and no one is at the window, yet. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 04:18 am (UTC)A burning, strangling anger rises up in him, and a flush speckles his neck out from under the gown, up into his face. His fist curls tighter, crackles in a way not entirely familiar, and then he shoves Midoriya into the bed despite the motion being weak. He’s not sure what to do with the anger; he doesn’t want to hurt Midoriya actually. He’s confused, he’s terrified—
What he thinks is the case, what he can feel in the soul of him. Foreign. It isn’t his, and it doesn’t belong to him. He doesn’t want it like this, not this way. The only time this is acceptable is if All Might had plucked him out of the crowd, mentored him. Only from All Might, not Midoriya.
His teeth are bared but gritted. The exhale that comes out between is ragged and nearly a kind of stuttered hiccup. He wilts over Midoriya, loosens, drops without it being heavy enough to jar anything.] You fucking shitty bastard... You’re a fucking disgrace... Why would you... I don’t... want it from you... from shitty, disgusting Deku...
Not... from you... [He’s too weak to throw a fit. Midoriya gets what Midoriya got after they had just gotten into U.A., what All Might got more than Midoriya. The tears aren’t a cry so much as a silent, river-eyed release of frustration and worry. A hard reboot. What he can’t process or compartmentalize like a person who isn’t plagued by high personal standards and emotional constipation.
He keeps his face hidden against Midoriya’s shoulder and cries with nothing but the shiver of his shoulders and the clutch of his hands in the sheets of the bed.]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 04:30 am (UTC)I know you didn't.
[ Does he apologize for something he's not sorry for? Gingerly, Midoriya sinks back into his bed and scoots over to accommodate him as much as humanly possible and then takes the weight of him leaning in, barely resisting hugging him as tightly as he dares. The front of the thin hospital gown he's wearing starts to dampen and for a moment, Midoriya thinks of the way Bakugou's clothes felt, hot and damp with blood. His stomach turns and he dares to press his fingers against Bakugou's shoulder, shivering.
He's not sorry. Bakugou almost died, but he didn't. Midoriya might not ever know if the transfer of part of his quirk was what made the difference, but it's better than waking up in this hospital bed with someone telling him that Bakugou didn't. The weight of him is its own reassurance, really. Midoriya lifts his hand up and presses it against Bakugou's head, threading through his hair gently. His own eyes are prickling with the threat of tears but he tips his head back and closes his eyes, trying to will them away and failing. ]
I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't have... I know that's not what you wanted. How you wanted it. But the alternative was losing you and I didn't know if you... [ Too raw, too honest. Midoriya sucks in a breath, holds it until he thinks he can steady himself and then tries again. ] I'm just glad you're alright. I won't be sorry for that.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 04:10 pm (UTC)It feels... disappointing. A disappointment in himself. He wonders if he'll ever be able to yank his feet out of the mud holding him back from the glory he desires, even if that means missing all the glory he has already obtained. Those glories are too small, he thinks: giving an All Might tie pin, telling Kirishima the suit he picked out is fine, turning away from battle to dig Midoriya out of the rubble.
The crying doesn't last very long at all. He's not mourning anything this way, and he only needs the hot tears to come and go like the tide of his anger, the frustration he doesn't know how to articulate without feeling weak.
So he doesn't say anything; otherwise, it would be a dismissive, "I didn't want your pity," and, "Why didn't you think about All Might's legacy?" and both of those are a useless arguments. But he doesn't pull away from Midoriya's warm, beacon body in the cold room, or the fingers twined in his soft, wiry hair. The hands clenching the sheets have finally loosened, leaving behind peaked wrinkles, and then they smooth palm-down under the edges of Midoriya's shoulder blades.
And he's like this for a long while, almost as if he's fallen asleep, except for the tickle of his lashes on Midoriya's neck when his eyes shift, when he blinks. His voice is rough when he does speak.] It's mine now. [There's a lack of malice in his tone, but a hell of a lot of surety.]
You aren't getting it back until every single thing wrong with you is healed. You don't deserve it until then.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 06:04 pm (UTC)He could, of course, just give it back. Midoriya knows he will eventually and knows that if another incident happened right now they've both be confined to the hospital without being able to argue their way out of it.
For a while, he floats. He's groggy, sore and exhausted and Bakugou's quiet crying dampens his shirt but otherwise they're not talking or fighting so Midoriya waits until he decides to speak again. In Bakugou's hair, his hand keeps stroking through it lazily, working through the tangles and knots gently until finally, he speaks again. ] Alright. I'll work hard to make sure I deserve it again.
[ He doesn't tense, doesn't mistrust Bakugou; if he says he's going to give it back, then he will and Midoriya knew that he wouldn't do any different. ]
When you...did you see anything? Or anyone, I guess, at all?
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 07:26 pm (UTC)If it means Midoriya is healthy and strong; this matters more to Bakugou than what he thinks. On the surface, the vessel for the quirk should be protected. The host should be guarded and supported. But beneath that... it's deeper. Midoriya means a hell of a lot more to him than he wants to admit. Understands him more than he'd like to admit.]
The hell? [His voice is soft, and... wary maybe. Like Midoriya caught him hiding something.] Maybe. [After a long moment, he pulls his head out of Midoriya's neck and lifts it enough to peer down at Midoriya's face.] It was...
...I don't know, like a fucking dream or something. There was some woman. I don't know where the hell I was, but... she was there. It was a dream, though. When I was out.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 07:48 pm (UTC)Yeah it's... I don't know how to describe it, really. It's one thing to know but it's something else to experience it, I guess.
[ Gingerly, he scoots over just a little bit more and then tugs the laughably thin sheet up around both of them, tucking them in as best as he can manage with two large bodies in a bed meant for one. He wants to ask what she said to him if anything, but that's not his business. He gave the quirk to Bakugou and it's up to him if he wants to share. For the time being, it's enough laying like this, watching Bakugou with sleepy-eyed contentment, playing with his hair. ]
You called me Izuku earlier, you know.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 08:59 pm (UTC)He should really turn over onto his back, but there's something so warm and comforting about sprawling on Midoriya this way. Something less two Doritos trying to squeeze their broad shoulders in a twin-sized hospital bed.
So he'll stay this way until the pain of his hip forces him to move. Besides, Midoriya is playing with his hair, and he's a sucker.]
You saw that shit too? [Weird. But he... had the strangest respect for the woman. A connection he could feel, one he knew he had to honor. A deeper connection, too, though he hadn't seen anyone else at all.] Ehh...?
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about...
[A red flush creeps up his neck; the tops of his ears get darker, flushed. FUCK. Why did Midoriya have to say this?]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 09:17 pm (UTC)Yeah. It's... well, you know how it came about. Sometimes I see all the previous holders, and she was the one who trained All Might back then.
[ It's weird to think about the idea that he's going to be in a similar state when he's passed. Is he going to continue living on in that weird ghost...power form for the next users of One For All? Is Bakugou now that he's held the power? Does it mean that they don't really die? Does it mean that there's something after death if they have quirks?
Midoriya makes a little noise because it's way too much to consider and these kinds of weird philosophical questions are too much and it's much easier to grin at Bakugou flushing, tugging playfully at his bangs, stroking his fingers along the line of an eyebrow, tracing back to playfully thumb over a red ear. ]
I liked it. I mean, I--. Maybe not the context. The context kind of sucked, honestly, but I liked...mmm.
[ Now he's a little flustered, sinking further into the bed, cheeks warm. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-21 09:29 pm (UTC)What the hell? I SAID, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE... hell... you're...
[A soft exhale leaves him, and then he swallows. The look on Midoriya's face draws all of the ire right out of him for some reason, a far cry from when the mere glance of Midoriya's freckled and round-eyed head would fuel his rage and envy.]
Cut it the fuck out. I said I... [Midoriya isn't gonna listen to him period. This is a useless battle.] So what if I fucking did, huh? Don't give me that shit...
You were-- [The rolling concerns get wedged in the bottle neck of his filtered throat.] If you would have seen your dumbass face in that hole! You were fucking dead! I called you a hundred times, and you wouldn't open your goddamn eyes! What was I supposed to fucing do!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: