Friday night, Bakugou was lying on his bed, flipping idly through his phone when it began to vibrate in his hand. Kirishima, the screen read.

Bakugou froze. Shitty-hair had never called him before; when he needed something, he sent a text or found Bakugou directly. Not to mention, this time on Fridays, he was supposed to be at his internship. Had he called by mistake?

Bakugou decided to answer in order to sate his curiosity. "Yo," he said. "Don't you have your internship? What the hell are you calling me for?"

"Hello, Bakugou. I'm sorry to bother you. This is Aizawa."

Bakugou froze.

"Kirishima is okay," Aizawa said quickly, perhaps knowing how easy it would be for Bakugou's mind to assume the worst. "I mean… his arms are both broken, but he's okay, relatively speaking. He's conscious and safe."

"Two broken arms doesn't sound fucking okay," Bakugou said, jumping out of bed and one-handedly shoving his shoes onto his feet. The wrong feet. Fuck. "Where is he right now?"

"He's in Recovery Girl's office. He asked for you - that's why I called."

"Tell him I'll be there soon," Bakugou said, and hung up, stomach churning.

When he arrived, Kirishima was propped up in a bed with his arms in slings against his chest. Aizawa was slumped over in a chair off to the side - Bakugou couldn't tell if he was asleep or not - and Recovery Girl herself was nowhere to be seen.

"What's the fucking deal?" Bakugou said, addressing both of them. "What happened?"

"I was at my internship and things went south. But don't worry, we won," Kirishima said, and shot him a toothy grin. "We got him, no sweat." But Bakugou could tell he was tired; his movements were slower than normal, his smile more forced. "Recovery Girl did as much as she could in one session and says she'll have at least one of my arms fixed tomorrow, both if I'm lucky and she thinks I can handle it."

"Bakugou, as it is, Kirishima can't feed himself," Aizawa said, apparently awake after all. "We could have a nurse do it, but Kirishima suggested asking you first. You're absolutely not obligated to agree, of course."

Bakugou looked at Aizawa through narrowed eyes. He was obligated to agree, and Aizawa fucking knew it. He could have asked Bakugou on the phone before calling him over, but here, in front of Kirishima himself, there was no way he could refuse. "I'll do it," he said at last, crossing his arms. "I don't see any food, though."

"It's on the way," Aizawa said, checking his phone. "Should just be a couple more minutes."

Bakugou sat down awkwardly and looked at Kirishima. He only dared to do so because Kirishima's eyes were closed; he was breathing deeply, and for a moment Bakugou wondered if Kirishima had fallen asleep, but after a moment he cracked open an eye and gave Bakugou a small smile.

"Food's here!" someone called, entering the room.

They all turned. Fucking Present Mic was there for some reason, coming towards them with a to-go container, which he set on a table next to Kirishima with a flourish.

"Thanks, Hizashi," Aizawa said, rising. "You two, I'm taking off. Bakugou, if you need help, there's a nurse on call." He pointed to a whiteboard, upon which a phone number was written. Bakugou scoffed; he already knew he wouldn't need to call for help. "Just help him eat and he'll probably fall asleep immediately afterwards," Aizawa said, standing in the doorway. "He's supposed to spend the night here, so don't let him leave."

"I can hear you, you know," Kirishima said. "And I wasn't planning on leaving, so don't worry!"

"Bye-bye!" Mic said, waving, as they walked off together.

Well, that was pretty fucking weird, Bakugou thought. He turned back to where Kirishima was lying and examined the food that Mic had brought. It was in a bowl with a plastic lid, and as he took the lid off he was greeted with a blast of steam.

It was ramen . "Ooh, that smells good," Kirishima said, turning his head to look.

"I can't believe he brought ramen. Why did he get you the messiest food? Is he a sadist or something?"

"Oh," Kirishima said, "I asked for it." He paused. "I didn't really think about that. I was just really craving it."

"You…" Bakugou shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you."

"Sorry," Kirishima said. "Look, I don't mean to be a pain in the ass. If it's a problem, you really don't have to! You can call the nurse or someone over and they can do it - that's what Aizawa said. I really don't mind."

"It's not a problem." Bakugou sat down on the chair next to Kirishima's bed with a thump. "Just give me a sec."

There was a side table next to the bed, upon which sat the bowl of ramen, as well as a plastic spoon, disposable chopsticks, a stack of napkins, and a cup of water. Bakugou stirred the broth, then raised the spoon to his lips to taste. "It's too hot still," he said. "Be patient."

"Okay."

Kirishima was giving him a broad, silly grin. It pissed Bakugou off. Why was that weirdo smiling when he couldn't even move half his limbs? "What's got you in such a good mood, you goddamn invalid?"

"I was half expecting you to just shove it in my mouth and get it over with," Kirishima said, a little sheepish. "But you're actually taking your time to make sure it won't burn me! That's so nice, dude!"

Bakugou stared at him, eyes narrowed. "You think I'd just let it burn you when you were already sitting there, looking so pathetic? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"Hey man, I just appreciate it!"

A few minutes passed in silence, Bakugou stirring the broth and testing it every so often. Finally he decided it had cooled enough to begin - but he'd never fed anyone before, and he wasn't sure it was possible to spoon-feed an adult and not have it be fucking weird. "Uh, open up, I guess," he said, guiding the spoon towards Kirishima's mouth, but Kirishima began laughing, forcing Bakugou to pause.

"You don't have to say anything," Kirishima said. "I can see the spoon. I know I need to have my mouth open."

"Oh," Bakugou said. "Well, when it's someone as thick-headed as you, I wasn't sure." Maybe the insult wasn't up to his usual standards, but Bakugou felt it wouldn't be worth it to waste his best ones on someone who was in this state, anyway.

When the first spoonful entered his mouth, Kirishima actually groaned in pleasure. "God, that's so good! I was so hungry!"

"Shut up," Bakugou said. "I can't feed you if you're talking."

"Okay, I'm sorry!"

After feeding him broth for a few minutes, Bakugou decided to switch it up. He picked up the chopsticks and grabbed some noodles. It was messy, though; they didn't quite all make it into Kirishima's mouth, forcing him to slurp them up afterwards and spill some. Bakugou could see his chin was wet with broth.

"Hold still," Bakugou said, picking up a napkin. "You're so messy. It's like feeding a baby."

"Aww, you're wiping my chin! Yeah, I am pretty messy, sorry."

The same thing happened at the next mouthful, too. Kirishima laughed as Bakugou wiped his chin again. "You might as well wait until the very end, dude," he said, but Bakugou ignored that. It gave him an unpleasant feeling to see Kirishima not only unable to feed himself, but unable even to wipe the food off his face.

Bakugou waited until he was done feeding Kirishima to ask the question that had been burning a hole in his skull the entire time. "Why'd you call me, of all people? You know anyone would have done this for you, right?"

Kirishima finished chewing and paused, thoughtful. "I don't really know," he said at last. "You were the person I wanted to see the most."

"You already said you thought I'd be in a hurry and shove hot soup in your mouth just to get it over with. If you really thought that, why did you want me to come help you?"

"I don't know," Kirishima said again.

Bakugou wiped Kirishima's face one last time, then set the napkin down.

"Bakugou?"

"Yeah?"

"If you… Not that I would want this to happen to you, of course, but if you were in this situation, would you call me?"

Bakugou thought about it, frowning. He wasn't even sure how Kirishima could let himself be fed and not die of shame. Bakugou knew he himself wouldn't be able to stand it. "I'd probably just go hungry. It's just the one night, anyway."

"You could call me," Kirishima said. His voice had a strange note of urgency in it, as if suddenly this completely hypothetical situation was the most important thing in the world to him. "If something like that happens, you can call me. You know I'd wanna be there for you."

"Your pain meds must be making you loopy," Bakugou said, standing and throwing their trash away. "You're being extra weird today."

"I'm serious," Kirishima said, following Bakugou's movement with his eyes. "Weird or not, you can rely on me, okay dude?"

"You thirsty?"

Kirishima nodded, so Bakugou held the cup in front of his face so he could drink. Thankfully it had a straw. After Kirishima finished, Bakugou stepped towards the door.

"Are you leaving?"

"No." Bakugou turned in the doorway. "Well, yeah, I guess I am. But I'm coming back."

"Where are you going?"

"To get a pillow and a blanket." Bakugou looked over at the empty bed next to Kirishima, bare except the mattress. "It doesn't look very comfortable as-is."

"Dude," Kirishima said, his voice loud with surprise, "you - you're spending the night?"

"You're too pathetic to be on your own right now," Bakugou said, "and you're not supposed to go anywhere, so it looks like this is my only choice."

"You don't…" Kirishima paused and shook his head. "Thanks again, man. I really appreciate it."

"You talk too much," Bakugou said, trying not to blush at Kirishima's wide, unguarded smile.

Kirishima was already asleep when he came back. Bakugou looked him over closely, trying to figure out exactly how bad off he was. He couldn't see any wounds other than the broken arms, but there was something in Kirishima's scalp that might have been dried blood, and he smelled strongly of sweat and something else - oil? chemicals?

Bakugou clicked his tongue. Hopefully Kirishima would be healed enough the next day to clean himself. The idea of helping Kirishima bathe made Bakugou's face grow hot, and he didn't linger on the thought for long. He'd do it, of course, if he was asked - but for Kirishima's sake he hoped it didn't come to that.

Bakugou turned off the light and made his way over to the empty bed using the light of his phone. The mattress wasn't comfortable, exactly, but it wasn't awful, either. Bakugou knew he'd sleep better here than in his own bed, thinking of how alone and helpless Kirishima felt if he woke up alone.

"Keep yourself safe, dumbass," Bakugou muttered. When he held still he could hear the sound of Kirishima's breaths, faint but steady; in the end, it was that sound that lulled him off to sleep.