[ It sounds like a joke, but it isn't. He does like hearing Bakugou talk when he's not yelling, or cursing, or generally being a dick just to be one. This is nice. This is just Bakugou's low, warm rumble underneath his ear, the line of his body pressed close. He doesn't stumble over words like Midoriya knows he would. This is the Bakugou that he knew from a child: painfully smart, articulate, the kind of person Midoriya ached to be. Bakugou's confident as he reads, shaping the words easily, working through it and before Midoriya really realizes what's happening, his eyes are sliding shut.
He's not going to fall asleep. There's still the nurses to contend with and technically they're not supposed to be in the same bed together, that's why he had the chair. He's not going to fall asleep because Bakugou's bored and he needs someone to keep him entertained, and it's not fair to leave him alone like this.
He absolutely falls asleep, slumping into Bakugou's side, mouth pressed so he's exhaling warmth against the curve of his collarbone, nosing into his throat sleepily as he dozes. ]
[Honestly, Bakugou doesn’t mind Midoriya falling asleep. He won’t mind if the nurses find them, even if the nurses find his stack of potato sticks either. Mainly because, he too will be asleep when all of this happens.
He keeps reading for the hell of it, voice almost a whisper. Midoriya’s labored breath on his neck is the lull. The book and arms begin lowering, and his own head, leaned on Midoriya’s, gets heavy. His eyes shut, open, shut again; there’s no way he can keep them open like this. He doesn’t get as good a sleep in the hospital as he does when Midoriya is squeezing into the stupid bed with him, when they’re entwined at the legs and arms together. It’s good.
He’d die before he ever admitted any of this to anyone.
But it’s good. Midoriya wrapped up in him and asleep, nothing for him to get riled up about. Snacks. Midoriya’s hair smells fresh and faintly washed, the wavy curls soft. A pillow he won’t ever say he enjoys. Like the bookish reading, Bakugou’s sleeping face is a dream. He’s so much gentler, a real handsome and sweet boy when his eyes aren’t narrow and his brows together.
And maybe Midoriya gets an e-mailed picture way later of the two of them from the same nurse as the first time.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-11-23 06:32 pm (UTC)[ It sounds like a joke, but it isn't. He does like hearing Bakugou talk when he's not yelling, or cursing, or generally being a dick just to be one. This is nice. This is just Bakugou's low, warm rumble underneath his ear, the line of his body pressed close. He doesn't stumble over words like Midoriya knows he would. This is the Bakugou that he knew from a child: painfully smart, articulate, the kind of person Midoriya ached to be. Bakugou's confident as he reads, shaping the words easily, working through it and before Midoriya really realizes what's happening, his eyes are sliding shut.
He's not going to fall asleep. There's still the nurses to contend with and technically they're not supposed to be in the same bed together, that's why he had the chair. He's not going to fall asleep because Bakugou's bored and he needs someone to keep him entertained, and it's not fair to leave him alone like this.
He absolutely falls asleep, slumping into Bakugou's side, mouth pressed so he's exhaling warmth against the curve of his collarbone, nosing into his throat sleepily as he dozes. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-11-23 07:55 pm (UTC)He keeps reading for the hell of it, voice almost a whisper. Midoriya’s labored breath on his neck is the lull. The book and arms begin lowering, and his own head, leaned on Midoriya’s, gets heavy. His eyes shut, open, shut again; there’s no way he can keep them open like this. He doesn’t get as good a sleep in the hospital as he does when Midoriya is squeezing into the stupid bed with him, when they’re entwined at the legs and arms together. It’s good.
He’d die before he ever admitted any of this to anyone.
But it’s good. Midoriya wrapped up in him and asleep, nothing for him to get riled up about. Snacks. Midoriya’s hair smells fresh and faintly washed, the wavy curls soft. A pillow he won’t ever say he enjoys. Like the bookish reading, Bakugou’s sleeping face is a dream. He’s so much gentler, a real handsome and sweet boy when his eyes aren’t narrow and his brows together.
And maybe Midoriya gets an e-mailed picture way later of the two of them from the same nurse as the first time.]